Tag Archives: SF Giants

Groovin’

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I always assumed that being “in a groove” came from the days of vinyl record albums when your needle needed to stay in the groove in order to get the music out. (This will date me, but I did tape pennies to the needle arm in order to keep it from skipping.)

Now, I find out – because I love Google – that “groove” is from Middle English and has evolved from “grove” or “groeve” which means a deep pit. (See, and you thought you weren’t going to learn anything from me today.)

So, being in the groove would seem to be a very bad thing.

A groove is also what baseball calls the juicy middle of the strike zone.  Groove one in there, Mr. Hanrahan. Just watch … click here.

That kind of groove is great for a hitter.  For a pitcher? Not so great.

Lots of ballplayers complained last week that they weren’t “in the groove.”  The ups-and-downs of Opening (Day) Week … day game/off day/night game/day game/night game … threw players out of their rhythm.

The first week of the season is sort of the weirdo week of a very long baseball season anyway.

It seems to be so important, and yet no one seems to be in the groove.  The games played in April are important, but aren’t really any more important than the games that will come next week, next month, or the month after that, or the month … oh, you get the idea.

Opening Day games sell out in the middle of the week.  Everyone wants to go, even when the weather is brisk.  An insanely chilly 38 degrees in Chicago for instance.  

(One of many things that makes baseball far superior to football is its devotion to being a warm-weather sport.  There is no place for snow on a baseball diamond. Well, now that J.T. Snow is retired anyway.)

Casual fans go for the hotdogs and beer, the ambience, and to say they’re going to Opening Day, which never seems to lose its nostalgia and luster.

Many just like an excuse to take a half-day at work, and really, who can blame them? Celebrities throw out the first pitches. The best pitchers in the game face off.

And, all the team Mascots are freshly laundered and smell like clean fluffy muppets, weeks away from the grimey, sweaty, mustard stained fuzz balls of mid-summer.

Dedicated fans and sports pundits wrestle with a scant handful of stats from a scant handful of games, but are still ready to make Playoff and World Series predictions, even though there are 156 games left to play.

Some players start off crazy-hot.  Homerun shmoosher Chris Davis, I’m looking at you.  And, you know it can’t last – won’t last – but you try to envision it anyway.  At one point last week, the Orioles’ Chris Davis was on pace to hit 162 homeruns this season.

(The only point to this blog post, really, was getting to say “the Orioles’ Chris Davis was on pace to hit 162 home runs this season.”  You can stop reading now if you want.)

Some players have very, very bad days that skew statistics in most awful ways.

When you’ve played a week and still are batting .000, or are a pitcher with an earned run average of 20+ runs a game, you know you’re definitely not in your groove. (Yet.)

We all have grooves.  We get in them.  We lose them.  We revel in them while we have them, pine for them when they’re gone.  Sometimes we don’t even know we are in a groove until we’ve fallen out and things start going wrong.

Every time I step on my Yoga mat, I know, probably within 30 seconds, whether I’m in my groove or not.   It’s easy to practice Yoga when you’re in your groove.  It is infinitely more important to push through your Yoga when you are not.

I guess that’s good advice for all grooves.

Grooves are fleeting.

Which is why it’s too early to give the Orioles’ Chris Davis the MVP trophy and the Giants’ Barry Zito (2-0, ERA 0.00 in 14 innings) the Cy Young Award (even though I’m a-ok with either).

And, it’s also too early to give up on your team just because they haven’t found a groove yet.  (Unless you’re a Miami Marlins fan, in which case the team owners owe you an apology.)

This is the FOURTH complete blog post that I’ve drafted in the past week and the only one that will see the light of day (true confession: I’ve written that on all the discarded drafts too, so there’s no telling if this one will even make it to the Editor/Husband “here, have a look” stage).

So, clearly, I’m not in my blog groove.  But, I’m still happy that baseball season is here.  And, I’m happy to keep unrolling my Yoga mat because I know there’s a groove hiding in there somewhere.

Not in your groove today?

Here, try this … it’s a guilty pleasure.  “Let the Groove Get In” … Justin Timberlake … definitely worth a spin.  Click here

Justin Timberlake

Yoga vs. Zumba … Baseball vs. Football

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I’ve had a few Yoga students leave me for Zumba, the Salsa-Aerobic workout.

I admit it. It hurt my feelings.

What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with Yoga? Why go? Stay. Stay.

I think that Yoga vs. Zumba is similar to my feelings about Baseball vs. Football.

Yoga is … Serene … Mindful … Toned … Disciplined … Careful … Graceful … Strong. Yoga is bathed in a long, rich, and often-quirky history.

Zumba is a nice work-out to some sassy music, but that’s it as far as I can tell.

(But, then I’m biased. You’ll have to check out the Zumba Girl’s blog — Football, Zumba, Life … (and she)? —  to get the other side.)

Baseball … Football … same thing.

I see baseball as this graceful game of strategy, and mindfulness, and strength, and focus. A game that treasures its own long, rich, and often-quirky history.

Football has some strategy yes, but isn’t the point really to just smoosh the other guy a little harder than he just smooshed you? (And, history is often lost, except for the occasional throwback uniform like this cute little Steelers number last Sunday … click here.)

As a massage therapist, I can tell you that I’ve had to work my way through a good number of Zumba injuries in my clients over the years. Yoga, a few, yes, not many. Likewise, I’ve got a few clients who still suffer from aches and pains from long-ago (sometimes decades-old) football collisions. Again, baseball? Ok, a few.

In an earlier post, I explained why I boycotted baseball (and even my beloved Orioles) for several seasons … disillusioned by the widespread use of PEDs (performance-enhancing drugs). I’m back now, although I know that, sadly, the drugs are still there.

Now, I am boycotting football and have been for the past couple seasons. (Sorry, beloved 49ers.) The distressing violence of the game, the ignorance over the long-term damage of head-to-head collisions and concussions, finally made it unbearable to watch.

But, I know I’m the minority.

The World Series hit a televised record low this year.

Really? You all missed Sergio Romo … Barry Zito … Pablo Sandoval! It was good (unless you’re a Detroit fan, then, not so much). And, you missed the free Taco Bell tacos for America … awarded when the Giants’ Angel Pagan stole a base. (I also missed it, because there’s no Taco Bell nearby).

Today on National Public Radio, Frank Deford discussed the decline of Baseball, the rise of Football. (Sadly, no discussion of Yoga vs. Zumba.)

Here it is. He’s much more eloquent than me. Hope you listen!

NPR: The American Pastime Fades In Popularity

What’s wrong with Baseball? Why go? Stay. Stay. Just 111 days until pitchers & catchers report.

Swing Like You Mean It

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Hitting a ball just once is not enough for Hunter Pence. How about hitting a single pitch three times?

San Francisco Giants outfielder Hunter Pence comes from a world I don’t understand.

No, not the National League.

When he was traded to the Giants this summer, I quickly realized that Hunter Pence is from another planet … where the energy is so plentiful and so intense that its inhabitants need no Starbucks or Monster drinks to thrive. In fact, a double espresso or a Red Bull would likely cause spontaneous combustion.

Hunter Pence is like a pinball in a machine gone crazy.

When Hunter Pence swings at a baseball he doesn’t really swing. He slashes, chops, sweeps, hacks, oh hell, just make up a word … ok, he scaswables at the baseball. Over and over and over.

He swings like he’s been covered in cobwebs. He swings and swings and swings. He drops to one knee as he swings. He spins himself around. He swings at the air as though the air has done something to irritate him. He is crazy mad at the air.

Just go over to YouTube and search “Hunter Pence warm up swing” and you’ll see things like this.

So was it any surprise that Hunter Pence hit a single pitch not once, not twice, but three times with a single swing of the bat last night?  No, not crazy by Hunter Pence standards.

But, what was crazy is that the bat broke as it hit-hit-hit the ball, and the ball still went fair. It was a hit. A hit that drove in three runs.

If the St. Louis Cardinals had a sinking feeling about last night’s Game 7 last chance, it had to come with that single improbable, impossible, insane swing of the bat.

It’s pretty cool to watch. Here it is in super slo-mo. Click here

But, you probably ought to see the entire thing unfold in real time. And, you can do that here.

But, was it fair?

Well, thanks to my Husband/Editor who — as a joke, I think — got me a baseball rule book, I can tell you that there is, in fact, a rule for just this sort of Hunter Pence insanity.

I turn your attention to Rule 6.05 (h) in the “comment” section.

(The comment section isn’t even really part of the official rules. It’s where the rulemakers explain what they meant in the official rules. See, Hunter Pence has his own world going on here that the rulemakers have to explain separately from the rules that apply to everyone else.)

Anyway, back to explanation: “If a bat breaks and part of it is in fair territory and is hit by a batted ball … play shall continue and no interference called.”

So, yeh, hit the ball as many times as you like, Hunter. In fact, the rulemakers also allow you to hit the ball with your bat and then with your batting helmet and still be fair. So you see, the rulemakers were trying to come up with every potential Hunter Pence at bat that they could in formulating this comment section.

With an at-bat like that, which resulted in 3 runs, well, you know the Giants were going to win.

And so, 9-0 later, they did.  And, the Giants go to the World Series.

By the way, I bleed Orange & Black … and that is for the Baltimore Orioles … the team that taught me what baseball is all about. The Orioles are MY team.

But, there’s a little orange and black that I save on the side for the Giants. My dad was really more into basketball and football.  But, he enjoyed some good times in L.A. and so, if baseball was his only option, then a Dodgers fan he was. It seemed only fair, to us anyway, that I cheer for the Dodgers’ rival.  A little Giants fan was born.

And, so I guess I have some World Series games to watch.

“Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.”

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More reflections from my “Day with the Dalai Lama”

While His Holiness the Dalai Lama refreshes mind, body, and spirit with the nightly “good sleep” he recommends for all of us, he has a friend in India who, instead, watches television well into the night.

As His Holiness impresses on us how healing, revitalizing, and important a good night’s sleep is, he widens his eyes and laughs and laughs as he describes his friend who enjoys a good cricket match on TV.

“I prefer to sleep, not look at cricket,” the Dalai Lama says. “He can watch cricket all night.”

“Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.”

An average cricket match, by the way, can run about six hours a day – with matches lasting three to five days.  Those lengthy cricket matches are known for their utterly civilized breaks and tea times. No cheap 7th-inning stretch for these fellas.

By comparison, the average baseball game in America runs about three hours (unless you are the Baltimore Orioles, in which case, you could very well go on for 12 or 14 or 18 innings … and rival cricket hours, except no tea time.)

So, I’m wondering … how did His Holiness know that I watch way too much baseball?

Does he know that some games this season kept me up well past midnight?

Does he know that last Sunday’s hours-long rain delay in Baltimore meant I slogged through the next day with less than three hours sleep?

Does he know that a season of baseball is 162 games? That the Orioles (and your favorite team) will play some 500 hours a year (even more if they go to the post-season)? That’s a lot of baseball.

His Holiness doesn’t know my deep dark baseball-watching secret. Well, if he reads this blog, I guess he does now. But, I’m pretty sure he’s sleeping, not blogging.

Oh, sure maybe you don’t watch baseball (or cricket). But, maybe you have your own kind of baseball that keeps you up … reading, or knitting, or worrying, or work, or … reading blogs. 

I think many of us have our own cricket.

Many of my massage clients come in to their appointments tired. They tell me they might fall asleep on the table. Some tell me that the little nap they catch during their session is the best sleep they’ve gotten in awhile.

Some of my Yoga students fall asleep in class during relaxation. They drop right off. And, snore.

We are a sleep-deprived culture. And, we all know it. And, yet, many of us don’t make the changes we need to improve our sleep. (And, by “many of us,” I, of course, mean me … and  maybe some of you, but mostly me.)

So how much sleep is enough? “Eight, nine hours, I think, is good for health,” the Dalai Lama says. Ayurveda and Yoga, which call adequate sleep absolutely essential to healing, suggest seven or eight. Basically, everybody agrees that somewhere between six and nine would be great. My cat Stevie highly recommends 18.

Writing this has made me tired.

Oh, wait, Giants-Cardinals game is about to start.

I’ll sleep in November.

Stevie takes the Dalai Lama’s good sleep advice to heart.

Read Part One of my “Day With The Dalai Lama” … click here.

You Can Make It Simple … Or Not

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There’s this thing amongst many Yoga students … that a challenging, pretzel-twisting pose is somehow more valuable and more beneficial than something plain and simple.

They’re wrong, of course. And, I spend a lot of class time trying to convince them that a beautiful, simple pose, done well, can be powerful and transformational.

A massive, powerful swing of the bat can turn into a glorious homerun. But, a nicely placed and well-timed double can be just as effective. Earl Weaver says the best play in baseball is the three-run homer.  A “simple” double, with three men on base, can do the very same thing. You just won’t get the fireworks.  But, you still get the runs. (And, oh yes, Orioles win.  Yay!)

And, here it is … simple. Effortless. And, did I mention that three runs score?

Orioles outfielder Nick Markakis off of the White Sox last night:

(right click on the video above.  Click “open in new tab.”  That oughta take you to the clip without taking you away from this post.  Because there’s another clip coming up that you also need to watch.)

Oh, all right. You talked me into it. Yes, the fancy-pants plays have their place in baseball too.  (And, the fancy-pants Yoga poses are, I admit it, rather fun.)

So, here you go.

Also from last night.

The Giants’ 3B Pablo “Panda Bear” Sandoval and SS Brandon Crawford combine, somehow, some way, for an out.

Not so effortless. But, a joy to watch none the less.

A little circus music might be a nice touch.

So, in baseball, as in Yoga, your ice cream can come in delicious vanilla (and I do love vanilla), or you can go load it up with cookie dough and sprinkles and chocolate.  And, that’s delicious, too.

Slumpasana

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Slumpasana.  That’s what I call the droopy pose I sometimes see my Yoga students in.  They’re sitting at the start of class, but clearly the day has worn them down.  They’re stooped over, scrunched up.  Their muscles have abandoned them and their posture curls.   Their heart sinks into their belly.  Their spine collapses.

I can’t even make eye contact, because they’re all curled down.  They look so sad — a deflated body where a person used to be.

I’ll step behind them and adjust them by drawing their spine up and shoulders open.  It’s about getting the heart to widen.  Sometimes they stay up.  Sometimes … they slump right back down … or as soon as they think I’m not looking.

Without strong, healthy muscles, the body loses its structure.  Without energy, the body loses its structure.  And, when the world weighs heavy on you – physically, mentally, emotionally – you hang down your head and slump.  It just seems easier to be curled down.

Orioles catcher Matt Wieters is in a slump.  If my math is correct (and it is sometimes) he is 1 for 27 over the past week.  Wait, scratch that.  Since I’ve tinkered so long on this, he is now 1 for 30.  Sigh.  I better post this before I have to update again.

I don’t mean to pile on here.  I know it’s only temporary … slumps always are. Aren’t they?

It’s painful to watch a batter or a pitcher in a slump as they grimace in frustration, drop their head down, stoop their shoulders and shuffle off … out of the batter’s box or off the mound.  It can just break your heart.

I endure slumps on my Yoga mat.  Unrolling my mat can feel like an invitation to fail.   Fortunately, I don’t have 30,000 people staring at me as it unfolds.

Sometimes the failure is physical.  Really?  I’m a Yoga instructor and I can’t hold this pose for a minute?  I am weak and old and horrible.    Sometimes the failure is mental.  Dammit, where is this bliss they keep talking about?  Why am I the only one who sucks at this?  Heaven knows I’m miserable now.  Really? You, too, Morrissey?  And, sometimes I just lose energy.  I slump because all the energy has been sucked right out of my bones.

Sometimes I just lie down and wonder if that can be “good enough” for my practice.  And, that slump affects every other aspect of my life.  I sigh and my body sighs and everything seems harder and heavier and more annoying.

By the way, I’m actually rocking the Yoga mat like Buster Posey right now (he’s had a good couple weeks).  I feel strong and inspired and every once in awhile I see that magical bliss sitting out there and I can just about reach out and … nearly … nearly … nearly  touch it.  I vibrate from the inside out, and things are fun and the birds sing and my heart is wide and my spine is long and my body feels strong. Everything seems so effortless.

The next slump seems so far away … although I know it’s out there, just waiting for me to get cocky and a little too comfortable.

Not too long ago, I told one of my Yoga teachers about a struggle I was having with my practice.  He sent back a brief email.  It read: “Persistence is success.”

Oh.

Just unroll the mat.  Just do it again, even if it really seems to not be getting better.  Because sometimes it’s the doing that is the most important part.  And, how will you know if a slump is gone, unless you keep at it?

So, what’s the point?  No point.  This is a blog afterall that is only a week old and really had no point at the start.  But, we all slump.  And, we unslump.  And, we slump again.

I hope Matt Wieters unslumps.  I hope that I don’t slump soon.  And, I wish non-slumps to you.

I fell in & out of love with baseball …

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I fell in love with baseball.  I fell out of love with baseball.  I fell back in love with baseball.

And, over the years I discovered that baseball was a lot like the other things that sustained me … the Yoga, the meditation, the mindfulness of being present, right here, right now.   It may not mean anything to anyone else.  But, it all weaves together and it’s the stillness, and mindfulness, and, yes, even the oft-time unending slowness of this simple sport that seems to have a lot in common with my Yoga mat.

Just like my Yoga practice … a baseball fan sits and watches and waits for something to happen.  Trying to enjoy the present moment, even when there’s no exciting “action” to hang onto.  It is the sitting and watching that IS the bliss.  True fans know that.

Occasionally, your Yoga practice is upended by a burst of Samadhi — that purest of bliss, however fleeting.  Those fleeting moments are like the moments of action in a baseball game.  Having watched … and waited … there comes a moment of athletic beauty the blossoms out of a play in the outfield, or a baseball is hit way into the stands, or a pitcher simply, smoothly, effortlessly, fires a fastball right by a batter for strike 3.  But, those moments of baseball Samadhi are just that … moments.  And, then the quiet and the waiting and the watching begins again.  The stillness.

I don’t play.  I’m just a fan.

It’s who I am.  And, I like to type words which is sometimes thought of as writing, but often is just typing.  But, I thought, why not type about baseball?  And, Yoga.  And, Zen.  And, me.

When I’m not scoring games, watching games, checking out an arcane baseball stat, or reading about the history of baseball, … or unrolling my own Yoga mat in search of bliss in my practice … I’m a Yoga instructor and a massage therapist.

And, in case you’re wondering … I bleed Orange & Black.  That’s for the Orioles.  But, I bleed a little on the side for the Giants.  So, I can see the Yogic appeal of having a DH … or not.  And, I married a Yankees fan … which shows my capacity for understanding and compassion.  Although I have been able to squeeze a bit of Orange & Black out of him in recent years.

In any event, I don’t know if anyone will ever see this … or read a single word.  I don’t have any clue where this will go, or if it will stall out like other blogs that come from a person’s real passion, but never quite make the transition onto a page.

But, to see baseball and Yoga on the same page makes me feel very happy indeed.   And, if you did find this and read this far … Namasté!