The homestand got off to a shaky start. Gavin Floyd's second outing was diametrically opposed to his first, unfortunately. Floyd walked four in the first and one in the third, all of whom scored, and his evening was done after three and a third torturous innings. The Braves continued teeing off against alleged major leaguer Pedro Liriano and others to record an 11-4 rout. My wife and I were eating Mexican food while Floyd was struggling, and the radio was clicked off about the time "our" Pedro entered.
Saturday's game was a sterling matchup of aces, Jon Lieber vs. John Smoltz. We spent Saturday morning volunteering at Quest For Tech, an organization that refurbishes old computers and gives them away, along with training, to needy people. If you have any hardware or want to volunteer, click on http://questfortech.org. I awoke from a nap after we got home with the game in the second inning and still scoreless. The two righties matched zeroes up to the fifth, when catcher Johnny Estrada, who the Phils are kicking themselves for letting get away, doubled and then scored on Brian Jordan's single. Jordan was a Phillies killer for years in his last stint with Atlanta, and nothing appears to have changed. The Braves have Jordan and another aging former all-star, Raul Mondesi, hitting seventh and eighth, which could be a disaster or a tremendous advantage. Knowing the Braves, it'll probably work out brilliantly.
Jimmy Rollins, who may or may not have overcome his propensity to swing for the fences a bit too much last year, swung for the fences appropriately here and parked one off Smoltz to tie the game in the sixth. Smoltz then uncharacteristically walked Kenny Lofton and Bob Abreu, and just when the inning looked over after Burrell and Thome struck out, today's hero, Chase Utley hit a line single that scored Lofton with the go-ahead run. I missed it, because I was cleaning the bathroom. You don't understand. Our bathroom had been invaded by a civilization of about 400 quadrillion paramecium, and today's cleaning has only made them angry.
The Braves didn't threaten in the seventh and eighth, and Billy Wagner came on to start the ninth. My fears about Billy's hittability were not assuaged much today. Chipper (I Hate You) Jones lined a hard single in the hole to left field, and then Andruw Jones flied deep to left, just missing on a fast ball. That man, Johnny Estrada, who even Wags can't strike out, then hit a massive shot to dead center that Kenny Lofton tracked down at the base of the fence. Billy had to hold his breath as Lofton retreated, and let out a big sigh as our new center fielder gloved it. That brought up pinch hitter Julio Franco, who Harry Kalas said was pinch hitting for "Dave La Roche". He probably did pinch hit for Dave La Roche once, but today he was pinch hitting for Dave's son, Adam La Roche. Julio is so old, he started playing when AstroTurf was still new. Of course, he spanked a hit to right field, and after a 2-2 wild pitch to Mr. Jordan, Billy was now officially in trouble. Enter Chase Utley, playing the role of the Flash. On 3-2, Jordan fisted a low liner that looked destined for center field and at least a tie game when Utley dove head-long to his right and speared it backhanded for the final out. What a play! A game-saver to be sure, and boy did we need it. The spectacular play by Utley preserved the 2-1 win for Lieber, who is now 3-0. Tomas Perez christened Lieber with a shaving cream pie as he was being interviewed by Harry Kalas on the post game show. Welcome to Philadelphia, Jon.
The win puts us back in a last-place tie, this time with Florida, at 5-6. Nobody is running away with it, though, and the Nationals will have to come back to earth eventually. We've got an ESPN Sunday Night game tomorrow, with Mike Hampton facing Brett Myers. My wife and I will be at, incredibly, a pro hockey game. Yes, they still have that, at least minor league style. Quest For Tech is taking all the volunteers on an outing. Volunteer today, and you can go! There are actually 10 tickets left, so I'm not kidding. Send me an e-mail, and I'll get you hooked up.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
SPINNING THE LP
As promised, let's discuss the Phillies ownership group. Bill Conlin, the crusty, corpulent senior scribe for the Philadelphia Daily News, wrote an excellent article last October explicating the complicated proprietorship that is the Phillies, LP. As the official name suggests, the team is actually a Limited Partnership, with all the legal ramifications an LP entails. David Montgomery is the Managing General Partner. This affords him all managing duties over the partnership, and assigns to him the day-to-day operations of the club, as well as the responsibility over any lawsuits or judgments against the partnership. The remainder of the partnership are "Limited Partners", which more or less spells it out. They have no say in day-to-day operations, are not liable for any judgments or lawsuits, and most likely, per their Limited Partnership contract, are not allowed to make any public statements or pronouncements regarding the operation of the team.
The other Limited Partners are:
- Claire S. Betz. She is the widow of John Betz, who originally invested in the partnership in 1981. According to Conlin, she's a nice old lady who attends Spring Training games and splits her time between Key Largo and the Main Line. From all accounts, she does not own a Saint Bernard named Betzie, thank goodness. The Citizens Bank Park grounds crew is especially thankful.
- Double Play, Inc, which is a corporation owned by John Middleton. Middleton, says Conlin, comes from "fifth-generation Philadelphia old money". He also owns the McIntosh Inn chain of motels. If you are not familiar with these, they are in the Red Roof Inn class and are often strategically situated near a Denny's.
- Tri-Play Associates (did they all sit in a room to come up with these names?), owned by Alexander, Mahlon, and William Buck. They are better known (In business circles, anyway, I guess) as the venture capitalists TDH Capital Corporation. Think Duke & Duke, with an extra Duke.
- Giles Limited Partnership. This is the Giles family group, headed by former Managing General Partner Bill Giles. At least they don't have "play" in their name. Giles is the son of former National League and Cincinnati Reds President Warren Giles. Bill started this mess in 1981 by forming the LP and buying the Phillies for $30 million from Ruly Carpenter. Carpenter had built the Phillies into a powerhouse in the late 70's, leading them to their only World Series title in 1980 before promptly selling the team for fear of the impending free agency explosion, of which he was quite prescient. It's not like Giles and company haven't made out like bandits, however. Giles' original investment of about $100,000 from his father's estate is worth many times that (wouldn't W be proud?), and Conlin calculated that John Betz' initial $9.3 million investment would net his widow about $150 million in today's market.
Then there is David Montgomery himself, of course. He started with the Phillies in 1971 fresh out of the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, selling group and season ticket plans. Giles apparently found out about him through a friend, heard he was a Wharton grad, and told him, "Well, let's put you to work and see what you can do!" After that thorough vetting process, Montgomery slowly worked his way up the ranks, acquiring ownership shares along the way, until he was finally installed as Managing General Partner in 1997 while Giles concentrated on building a new stadium. Giles tenure had been marked by a couple of fluky successes, in 1983 and 1993, surrounded by years of mediocrity and worse. The farm system was systematically dismantled throughout the Giles era, and is only now producing quality big-leaguers again, albeit not very many. Montgomery hired Ed Wade away from the Orioles organization to be his General Manager, and has stuck with him through thin and thin. The franchise has not seen the postseason for the last 12 seasons, often not even coming close. In 2004, the team moved into the retro Citizens Bank Park after a long and contentious negotiating process with the city of Philadelphia and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania over public funding. While the park is a monumental improvement over the old Vet, it remains to be seen whether it will translate into the sort of revenue generator that will put the Phillies into the payroll sphere of the upper echelon teams, or if the Phillies LP even wants that.
So, what does this all mean for the fans? Limited Partnerships are pretty common around baseball, and can be very successful. The Red Sox and Yankees are LP's, and they do pretty well. The main problem with the Phillies ownership are the guys at the top. Montgomery is more than likely an able businessman. The franchise value has increased steadily over the years, and together with Giles they were able to get the new stadium built, which will certainly enhance revenue. What Montgomery and Giles have never shown any evidence of is that they know (or even care about) what it takes to produce winning baseball. Giles is the scion of the family who built a franchise once known as "The Big Red Machine", but little seems to have rubbed off. Montgomery has no background in the game of baseball whatsoever. The hiring and apparent undying loyalty to Ed Wade demonstrates that Montgomery and Giles believe in the "old school" of baseball orthodoxy, at least in terms of choosing and paying for talent. Wade almost unfailingly chooses aging veterans to fill open roster spots, never, ever overpays for a star player, and has little or no regard for the now-well-established (since the Red Sox triumph) science of sabermetrics, where computers and statistics are used in imaginative ways to unearth hidden player value. The team's choice of field managers also demonstrates their old school tendencies. After a brief trial with the young Terry Francona, brought in mainly to work with the rebuilding team that Wade had inherited, Wade and Montgomery decided that in order to get to the next level, the Phillies needed to bring in 1980 hero and fan favorite Larry Bowa. The Bowa regime was not an unmitigated disaster, but the team made almost no improvement over his reign, and quite possibly regressed. Bowa had never shown any ability to win at the big league level, and much worse, had shown a marked propensity for pissing everyone off. It was not surprising then when Bowa chased off star third baseman Scott Rolen, who helped lead the Cardinals to the NL title last year. Most of the rest of the players either harbored a seething animosity toward their manager, or were so intimidated by him that they underperformed badly (see Burrell, Pat). After four mediocre and disappointing seasons, the Phillies fired Bowa and replaced him with another, much quieter ante-deluvian retread, Charlie Manuel.
Can things improve? The new ballpark, and what the LP does with the money, is the most important factor in answering that question. If Montgomery and Giles pour it back into the free-agent market, or at least use it to retain the best talent and build the farm system, the Phillies can prosper. The chances of this happening, however, seem remote at best. Wade simply won't go the extra mile to pursue a top free agent, instead spending relatively small amounts of money for veterans with middling value, like Kenny Lofton and David Bell. Even the Jim Thome acquisition, by far Wade's most daring and expensive move, involved a 32-year-old player with only one real skill. Wade also never parts with prized youngsters in trade negotiations, which usually squelches any blockbuster deals. This would be fine if his youngsters developed into stars, but none have to date. The only player Wade either drafted or had a chance to sign who has blossomed lately is J. D. Drew. In a fairly indicative episode, Wade refused the bonus demands from Drew's agent Scott Boras and let him get re-drafted the following year by the Cardinals.
One of Wade's untouchables, righty Gavin Floyd, deals tonight against Horacio Ramirez, a promising lefty for the Braves. Floyd was brilliant in his first start, retiring 19 Cardinals in a row at one stage with a baffling curve ball. If Floyd can maintain this level of domination, Wade will finally achieve some measure of vindication. Much bigger vindication would come with a division title. The Nationals won their home opener last night in front of Tim Russert, Sen. Chris Dodd, and oh yeah, that Bush guy, which puts them in first all alone. The Mets also won, putting the Phillies in a tie for...last place. Keep dreaming, Ed.
As promised, let's discuss the Phillies ownership group. Bill Conlin, the crusty, corpulent senior scribe for the Philadelphia Daily News, wrote an excellent article last October explicating the complicated proprietorship that is the Phillies, LP. As the official name suggests, the team is actually a Limited Partnership, with all the legal ramifications an LP entails. David Montgomery is the Managing General Partner. This affords him all managing duties over the partnership, and assigns to him the day-to-day operations of the club, as well as the responsibility over any lawsuits or judgments against the partnership. The remainder of the partnership are "Limited Partners", which more or less spells it out. They have no say in day-to-day operations, are not liable for any judgments or lawsuits, and most likely, per their Limited Partnership contract, are not allowed to make any public statements or pronouncements regarding the operation of the team.
The other Limited Partners are:
- Claire S. Betz. She is the widow of John Betz, who originally invested in the partnership in 1981. According to Conlin, she's a nice old lady who attends Spring Training games and splits her time between Key Largo and the Main Line. From all accounts, she does not own a Saint Bernard named Betzie, thank goodness. The Citizens Bank Park grounds crew is especially thankful.
- Double Play, Inc, which is a corporation owned by John Middleton. Middleton, says Conlin, comes from "fifth-generation Philadelphia old money". He also owns the McIntosh Inn chain of motels. If you are not familiar with these, they are in the Red Roof Inn class and are often strategically situated near a Denny's.
- Tri-Play Associates (did they all sit in a room to come up with these names?), owned by Alexander, Mahlon, and William Buck. They are better known (In business circles, anyway, I guess) as the venture capitalists TDH Capital Corporation. Think Duke & Duke, with an extra Duke.
- Giles Limited Partnership. This is the Giles family group, headed by former Managing General Partner Bill Giles. At least they don't have "play" in their name. Giles is the son of former National League and Cincinnati Reds President Warren Giles. Bill started this mess in 1981 by forming the LP and buying the Phillies for $30 million from Ruly Carpenter. Carpenter had built the Phillies into a powerhouse in the late 70's, leading them to their only World Series title in 1980 before promptly selling the team for fear of the impending free agency explosion, of which he was quite prescient. It's not like Giles and company haven't made out like bandits, however. Giles' original investment of about $100,000 from his father's estate is worth many times that (wouldn't W be proud?), and Conlin calculated that John Betz' initial $9.3 million investment would net his widow about $150 million in today's market.
Then there is David Montgomery himself, of course. He started with the Phillies in 1971 fresh out of the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, selling group and season ticket plans. Giles apparently found out about him through a friend, heard he was a Wharton grad, and told him, "Well, let's put you to work and see what you can do!" After that thorough vetting process, Montgomery slowly worked his way up the ranks, acquiring ownership shares along the way, until he was finally installed as Managing General Partner in 1997 while Giles concentrated on building a new stadium. Giles tenure had been marked by a couple of fluky successes, in 1983 and 1993, surrounded by years of mediocrity and worse. The farm system was systematically dismantled throughout the Giles era, and is only now producing quality big-leaguers again, albeit not very many. Montgomery hired Ed Wade away from the Orioles organization to be his General Manager, and has stuck with him through thin and thin. The franchise has not seen the postseason for the last 12 seasons, often not even coming close. In 2004, the team moved into the retro Citizens Bank Park after a long and contentious negotiating process with the city of Philadelphia and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania over public funding. While the park is a monumental improvement over the old Vet, it remains to be seen whether it will translate into the sort of revenue generator that will put the Phillies into the payroll sphere of the upper echelon teams, or if the Phillies LP even wants that.
So, what does this all mean for the fans? Limited Partnerships are pretty common around baseball, and can be very successful. The Red Sox and Yankees are LP's, and they do pretty well. The main problem with the Phillies ownership are the guys at the top. Montgomery is more than likely an able businessman. The franchise value has increased steadily over the years, and together with Giles they were able to get the new stadium built, which will certainly enhance revenue. What Montgomery and Giles have never shown any evidence of is that they know (or even care about) what it takes to produce winning baseball. Giles is the scion of the family who built a franchise once known as "The Big Red Machine", but little seems to have rubbed off. Montgomery has no background in the game of baseball whatsoever. The hiring and apparent undying loyalty to Ed Wade demonstrates that Montgomery and Giles believe in the "old school" of baseball orthodoxy, at least in terms of choosing and paying for talent. Wade almost unfailingly chooses aging veterans to fill open roster spots, never, ever overpays for a star player, and has little or no regard for the now-well-established (since the Red Sox triumph) science of sabermetrics, where computers and statistics are used in imaginative ways to unearth hidden player value. The team's choice of field managers also demonstrates their old school tendencies. After a brief trial with the young Terry Francona, brought in mainly to work with the rebuilding team that Wade had inherited, Wade and Montgomery decided that in order to get to the next level, the Phillies needed to bring in 1980 hero and fan favorite Larry Bowa. The Bowa regime was not an unmitigated disaster, but the team made almost no improvement over his reign, and quite possibly regressed. Bowa had never shown any ability to win at the big league level, and much worse, had shown a marked propensity for pissing everyone off. It was not surprising then when Bowa chased off star third baseman Scott Rolen, who helped lead the Cardinals to the NL title last year. Most of the rest of the players either harbored a seething animosity toward their manager, or were so intimidated by him that they underperformed badly (see Burrell, Pat). After four mediocre and disappointing seasons, the Phillies fired Bowa and replaced him with another, much quieter ante-deluvian retread, Charlie Manuel.
Can things improve? The new ballpark, and what the LP does with the money, is the most important factor in answering that question. If Montgomery and Giles pour it back into the free-agent market, or at least use it to retain the best talent and build the farm system, the Phillies can prosper. The chances of this happening, however, seem remote at best. Wade simply won't go the extra mile to pursue a top free agent, instead spending relatively small amounts of money for veterans with middling value, like Kenny Lofton and David Bell. Even the Jim Thome acquisition, by far Wade's most daring and expensive move, involved a 32-year-old player with only one real skill. Wade also never parts with prized youngsters in trade negotiations, which usually squelches any blockbuster deals. This would be fine if his youngsters developed into stars, but none have to date. The only player Wade either drafted or had a chance to sign who has blossomed lately is J. D. Drew. In a fairly indicative episode, Wade refused the bonus demands from Drew's agent Scott Boras and let him get re-drafted the following year by the Cardinals.
One of Wade's untouchables, righty Gavin Floyd, deals tonight against Horacio Ramirez, a promising lefty for the Braves. Floyd was brilliant in his first start, retiring 19 Cardinals in a row at one stage with a baffling curve ball. If Floyd can maintain this level of domination, Wade will finally achieve some measure of vindication. Much bigger vindication would come with a division title. The Nationals won their home opener last night in front of Tim Russert, Sen. Chris Dodd, and oh yeah, that Bush guy, which puts them in first all alone. The Mets also won, putting the Phillies in a tie for...last place. Keep dreaming, Ed.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
D-RAILED
Well, that was Micco-sucky. I am of course referring a) to the ubiquitous signs for the Miccosukee Casino ringing Dolphins Stadium, and b) yesterday's game. I've never even heard of the Miccosukee tribe. I guess they were patrolling South Beach before leggy European models with an aversion to bikini tops and fey Cuban hairdressers with an aversion to restraint took over.
In any event, the Phillies and Marlins played a day game, much to my surprise, on a Wednesday of all days. I missed the whole thing, which was fine, since it didn't go well for the guys in red and gray. Dontrelle Willis upped his consecutive scoreless streak to 18 innings to start the season, recording his second complete game shutout of the year in two tries. If the Marlins keep this up, their pitching stats will start looking like the '68 Tigers and Cardinals. I half expect Denny McClain to start (and finish, naturally) the back end of a doubleheader.
Yesterday's 4-0 result in Florida, combined with Washington's 11-4 drubbing of Atlanta leaves the Marlins, Nationals, and Braves in first, with the Phillies one game back. Baseball Prospectus, my favorite baseball web site, lists the Marlins as the best team in baseball, and I can't disagree. Four complete games in nine outings? That's unheard of, and completely unsustainable, but it shows what they are capable of. I saw John Marzano on Daily News Live on Comcast Sportsnet yesterday afternoon, and he said the Phillies shouldn't worry, because number one and number two starters will pitch like this many times throughout the season. I have news for you, John: Dontrelle is the Marlins #3 starter. And they are in our division, so we get them 16 more times. I would worry.
The Phillies are (checking ESPN.com) off today, heading back home for a (checking ESPN.com again) seven game homestand against Atlanta, the Mets, and the possibly historically bad Rockies. Hey, this Internet thing really comes in handy sometimes, for looking up, like, facts and stuff. I'll have to enlighten readers on the mysterious intricacies of Phillies ownership tomorrow.
Well, that was Micco-sucky. I am of course referring a) to the ubiquitous signs for the Miccosukee Casino ringing Dolphins Stadium, and b) yesterday's game. I've never even heard of the Miccosukee tribe. I guess they were patrolling South Beach before leggy European models with an aversion to bikini tops and fey Cuban hairdressers with an aversion to restraint took over.
In any event, the Phillies and Marlins played a day game, much to my surprise, on a Wednesday of all days. I missed the whole thing, which was fine, since it didn't go well for the guys in red and gray. Dontrelle Willis upped his consecutive scoreless streak to 18 innings to start the season, recording his second complete game shutout of the year in two tries. If the Marlins keep this up, their pitching stats will start looking like the '68 Tigers and Cardinals. I half expect Denny McClain to start (and finish, naturally) the back end of a doubleheader.
Yesterday's 4-0 result in Florida, combined with Washington's 11-4 drubbing of Atlanta leaves the Marlins, Nationals, and Braves in first, with the Phillies one game back. Baseball Prospectus, my favorite baseball web site, lists the Marlins as the best team in baseball, and I can't disagree. Four complete games in nine outings? That's unheard of, and completely unsustainable, but it shows what they are capable of. I saw John Marzano on Daily News Live on Comcast Sportsnet yesterday afternoon, and he said the Phillies shouldn't worry, because number one and number two starters will pitch like this many times throughout the season. I have news for you, John: Dontrelle is the Marlins #3 starter. And they are in our division, so we get them 16 more times. I would worry.
The Phillies are (checking ESPN.com) off today, heading back home for a (checking ESPN.com again) seven game homestand against Atlanta, the Mets, and the possibly historically bad Rockies. Hey, this Internet thing really comes in handy sometimes, for looking up, like, facts and stuff. I'll have to enlighten readers on the mysterious intricacies of Phillies ownership tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
WOLF BLITZED
Last night was a typical outing for Randy Wolf against the Marlins: 6 IP, 5 ER, 2 HR allowed. My distant cousin Mike Lowell tied the game in the 4th with a mammoth shot over the scoreboard at recently rechristened Dolphins Stadium (they might as well call it "Hey Marlins, Get The Hell Out Of Our" Stadium). Dodger refugee Paul LoDuca made it 5-2 with another two-run shot in the 5th. The Aquamen roughed up the bullpen, including someone by the name of Pedro Liriano, for three more for an 8-2 final. The real problem for the Phils, however, was AJ Burnett. After missing nearly all of the 2003 World Championship season and about half of last season recovering from Tommy John surgery (can we call that something else now? How about, Welcome To The Big Leagues surgery), he's healthy and nearly unhittable. He was registering triple digit heat as late as the seventh inning, and his curve, slider, and changeup were all working. The Marlins starting rotation now has three times as many complete games as...the American League. Frightening.
In other news, my favorite player on my Strat team, Miguel Cabrera, continues to look like money. He lined a sharp single off Wolf (also, sadly, on my Strat team), and then casually slapped a Terry Adams do-nothing breaking ball into the left-field seats. He turns 22 next week.
Tonight's matchup is Cory Lidle vs. The D Train, Dontrelle Willis. Willis already has one shutout this year, and Abreu and Thome are normally rendered moot against lefties who come from the side like Dontrelle. I'm not optimistic. Lidle was decent in his first start, and he's the only Phillie to throw multiple shutouts last year, so there's a possibility something good might happen. I have a feeling we'll see that signature high leg kick of the D Train well into the late innings, though.
New Braves closer Danny Kolb gacked a big one last night, allowing three Nats to score in the ninth for a 4-3 loss. Atlanta still has a one game lead on us, Florida and Washington, with the Mets two and a half out.
The Mets lost their first five for new manager Willie Randolph before Pedro finally broke through against John Smoltz on Sunday. The Mets were our family team back in upstate NY. My mom grew up in Brooklyn, and she and my dad were ardent Brooklyn Dodgers fans for the better part of their lives until Dem Bums went west in 1957. The Mets arrived in 1962 as an expansion team, and were instantly adopted by my family. Even my maternal grandmother, who also spent a big chunk of her life in Brooklyn, loved the Amazins. My earliest baseball memories are of watching the highlights of the 1969 World Series win over Baltimore during rain delays. Clendennon, Agee, Seaver, Grote, Swoboda - this was the Pantheon in our house. I didn't really understand the significance of what had occurred, but I knew that we had been a part of something big, a bona fide Miracle. I didn't really start comprehending or appreciating the game until the '73 pennant run, when Big Bad Pete Rose started a fight with little Buddy Harrelson during the NLCS. The Mets somehow bested the Big Red Machine in five games, and then had to face the defending champion Oakland A's, they of the loud uniforms and hippie hair. I remember Charlie Finley firing Mike Andrews for making in error in one of the early games, and then being forced to re-instate him by Bowie Kuhn. I also remember the Mets improbable run finally wilting in the seventh game, and my uncle, who lived not far from the Oakland Coliseum, rubbing it in.
After that season, the Mets descended into a spiral of mediocrity and then downright atrociousness under the incompetent stewardship of M. Donald Grant. The low point was the 1977 trade of my hero, Tom Seaver, to the Reds for four nobodies. The late 70's and early 80's were a dark time to be a Mets fan. Of course, I was just getting into Little League and then puberty, so the Mets nadir couldn't have come at a worse time. While my classmates and teammates were jumping on the Steinbrenner Yankee bandwagon, I spent my summers wondering whether Dave Kingman could possibly strike out any more, and why Lenny Randle and Elliott Maddox were not only wearing major league uniforms, but getting serious playing time. The only solace was the announcing team of Bob Murphy and Ralph Kiner; Murph for his professionalism and class, and Kiner for his loveable incompetence. My favorite weekend afternoons were spent listening to a Mets doubleheader on the transistor radio at Glimmerglass State Park, riding back home in my Dad's Oldsmobile with Murph describing the late innings on the car radio, and after arriving back home to see the end of a rare Mets win, watching Kiner's Korner, seeing how many words Ralph would stumble over and what kind of insane questions he would ask. My favorite guests were Le Grand Orange, Rusty Staub, and of course, the man, Tom Seaver. Seaver was such a pro, possessing an encyclopedic knowledge of pitching and the ability to convey it, even after a grueling complete game. I loved his high pitched cackle whenever Ralph would say something crazy. Rusty was cool, charming, sophisticated, and could talk a great game. Both players epitomized in my mind what it meant to be a major league baseball player. They will always set the standard.
In 1980, the Mets were sold to publishing magnate Nelson Doubleday, of the Abner Doubledays, and Fred Wilpon. They hired Frank Cashen, architect of the great 60's and 70's Orioles teams, to be the new GM. It took a few years, but the turnaround had begun, just in time for my high school and college years. The first big acquisition was George Foster from the Reds. Big George had hit 52 homers in 1977 for the Reds, and Mets fans hadn't seen anything like him in their history. He was mostly a flop, but it gave us hope that the Mets were serious about bringing in star players. The next big move was the 1983 trade for Keith Hernandez, former co-MVP of the National League. Hernandez immediately took charge of the clubhouse and instilled an expectation of winning that had been missing since the '73 team. In 1984, the call-up of pitching phenom Dwight Gooden put the Mets right in the thick of the NL East race, eventually won by the Cubs, with the Mets finishing a respectable second. When Gary Carter was traded to New York for spare parts after the 1984 season, I knew that the Mets would be contenders for years. 1985, my senior year in High School, looked to be the year they would finally get back to the postseason. Another youngster with the impossible name of Darryl Strawberry was hitting baseballs in places where baseballs had never been hit, Gooden was untouchable, and Carter and Hernandez were having career years. They battled the Cardinals all season until succumbing in the final week.
Ah, 1986, the high point of my baseball existence. We had been so close in 1985, and with Strawberry and Gooden another year older, and Bobby Ojeda now in the rotation, we looked unbeatable. There's no doubt 1986 was my favorite summer. The Mets won games in every conceivable fashion that year. For the opponents, no lead was ever safe, no matter how late the in the game it was. My favorite game that year was in Cincinnati, when the Mets tied it with two outs in the 9th, and then ran out of position players when a brawl erupted after a steal of third by the Reds Eric Davis. Roger McDowell and Jesse Orosco spent the 10th through 13th innings switching between right field and the pitchers mound before Howard Johnson homered in the top of the 14th. That game was the essence of the '86 Mets: Whatever it takes.
The postseason that year has been dissected to exhaustion, but to be a long-suffering fan of the team that won it was the most exhilarating and rewarding experience of my baseball life. I remember being home from college for Fall Break during Game Three of the NLCS, and heading to the mall to get a haircut as the Mets fell behind early. When the haircut was done, the Mets had tied it, and then fallen behind again. Lenny Dykstra then belted a two-run homer off Astro closer Dave Smith in the bottom of the 9th, and we were up 2 games to 1. Back at school, we all gathered in my room to watch Game Six on the little 13" color TV my parents had bought me the previous Christmas. It looked bleak as Bob Knepper mowed down the Mets for eight innings, with Cy Young winner Mike Scott waiting to close it out in Game Seven. The Mets rallied for three in the 9th, and then I had to go to my Co-op Orientation Meeting. AAAUUGGHHH! I missed the Mets run in the 14th, and Billy Hatcher's foul pole homer to tie it, but I made it back in time to see the Mets score three in the 16th. The Astros scored two in the 16th, but Orosco got Kevin Bass looking, threw his glove to the ceiling, and the METS WIN THE PENNANT! I couldn't believe my eyes. The last time I had seen that, it was Tug McGraw getting mobbed at Shea in 1973. How far they had fallen, and then come back again. On to the World Series.
This is where Sox fans can stop reading (not that anyone is reading). For Game Six, my roommate and I were watching the final innings with a guy down the hall, Rob, who was from Framingham, MA. When Dave Henderson hit the homer to put the Sox up by two in the 10th, Rob was still wary, but clearly psyched. I think he went back to his room to call some of his friends back home. I remember having my finger poised on the remote button to turn the TV off if the Mets made the final out because I couldn't bear it. "My teams never win," I kept telling my roommate. And then. Well, at this point, I should have known. The Mets had been staging miraculous comebacks all year, and when I saw Bob "Steamer" Stanley trot in from the bullpen, it was over as far I was concerned. I knew from playing Strat-o-Matic that Stanley was a bum, and given the Red Sox accursed history, it all began to come together. The Buckner thing really didn't surprise me much. Whatever it takes. I do remember jumping high enough that my head almost hit the ceiling when Ray Knight crossed home. I don't recall even being worried about Game Seven. There was no way we could lose after Game Six. We fell behind early, but came storming back and won easily, 8-5. Vindication, at last.
The rest of the 80's were semi-successful. The Mets made the playoffs again in '88 only to run into the Orel Hershiser/Kirk Gibson Dodger juggernaut, and then slowly fell into decline. I moved away to Illinois and started following the Chicago White Sox, because I sure as hell wasn't going to root for the Cubs or Cardinals. Then I moved to Houston and found some room in my heart for the poor, pathetic Astros. I stopped back close to home at Cooperstown in 1992 to watch Tom Seaver get inducted into the Hall Of Fame, the first and only Met to make it. Other than that, my Met affiliation has been completely severed. Now I'm in Philly, and the Fightins are my team. I always have believed in rooting for the team that you can follow every day on radio, TV, and in the newspaper, and whose games you can actually attend if you are so inclined. I attended only five Mets games the entire time I rooted for them. Three of those were shutouts by Mets pitchers, and two of the games were in Montreal, near where I went to school. I went to three White Sox games, two in Old Comiskey and one in New Comiskey. I've been to countless Astros games. My boss had a mini-season ticket plan, and would often give me his tickets when he couldn't make it. I've only seen six Phillies games so far: four here, one in Baltimore, and one in Fenway. The Vet was a horrible place to watch a game, and the new ball park is a tough ticket. My wife and I prefer the local minor league park of the Wilmington Blue Rocks. The parking is free, the sight lines are fantastic, and it's still baseball.
Enough reminiscing. There's a season to be played.
Last night was a typical outing for Randy Wolf against the Marlins: 6 IP, 5 ER, 2 HR allowed. My distant cousin Mike Lowell tied the game in the 4th with a mammoth shot over the scoreboard at recently rechristened Dolphins Stadium (they might as well call it "Hey Marlins, Get The Hell Out Of Our" Stadium). Dodger refugee Paul LoDuca made it 5-2 with another two-run shot in the 5th. The Aquamen roughed up the bullpen, including someone by the name of Pedro Liriano, for three more for an 8-2 final. The real problem for the Phils, however, was AJ Burnett. After missing nearly all of the 2003 World Championship season and about half of last season recovering from Tommy John surgery (can we call that something else now? How about, Welcome To The Big Leagues surgery), he's healthy and nearly unhittable. He was registering triple digit heat as late as the seventh inning, and his curve, slider, and changeup were all working. The Marlins starting rotation now has three times as many complete games as...the American League. Frightening.
In other news, my favorite player on my Strat team, Miguel Cabrera, continues to look like money. He lined a sharp single off Wolf (also, sadly, on my Strat team), and then casually slapped a Terry Adams do-nothing breaking ball into the left-field seats. He turns 22 next week.
Tonight's matchup is Cory Lidle vs. The D Train, Dontrelle Willis. Willis already has one shutout this year, and Abreu and Thome are normally rendered moot against lefties who come from the side like Dontrelle. I'm not optimistic. Lidle was decent in his first start, and he's the only Phillie to throw multiple shutouts last year, so there's a possibility something good might happen. I have a feeling we'll see that signature high leg kick of the D Train well into the late innings, though.
New Braves closer Danny Kolb gacked a big one last night, allowing three Nats to score in the ninth for a 4-3 loss. Atlanta still has a one game lead on us, Florida and Washington, with the Mets two and a half out.
The Mets lost their first five for new manager Willie Randolph before Pedro finally broke through against John Smoltz on Sunday. The Mets were our family team back in upstate NY. My mom grew up in Brooklyn, and she and my dad were ardent Brooklyn Dodgers fans for the better part of their lives until Dem Bums went west in 1957. The Mets arrived in 1962 as an expansion team, and were instantly adopted by my family. Even my maternal grandmother, who also spent a big chunk of her life in Brooklyn, loved the Amazins. My earliest baseball memories are of watching the highlights of the 1969 World Series win over Baltimore during rain delays. Clendennon, Agee, Seaver, Grote, Swoboda - this was the Pantheon in our house. I didn't really understand the significance of what had occurred, but I knew that we had been a part of something big, a bona fide Miracle. I didn't really start comprehending or appreciating the game until the '73 pennant run, when Big Bad Pete Rose started a fight with little Buddy Harrelson during the NLCS. The Mets somehow bested the Big Red Machine in five games, and then had to face the defending champion Oakland A's, they of the loud uniforms and hippie hair. I remember Charlie Finley firing Mike Andrews for making in error in one of the early games, and then being forced to re-instate him by Bowie Kuhn. I also remember the Mets improbable run finally wilting in the seventh game, and my uncle, who lived not far from the Oakland Coliseum, rubbing it in.
After that season, the Mets descended into a spiral of mediocrity and then downright atrociousness under the incompetent stewardship of M. Donald Grant. The low point was the 1977 trade of my hero, Tom Seaver, to the Reds for four nobodies. The late 70's and early 80's were a dark time to be a Mets fan. Of course, I was just getting into Little League and then puberty, so the Mets nadir couldn't have come at a worse time. While my classmates and teammates were jumping on the Steinbrenner Yankee bandwagon, I spent my summers wondering whether Dave Kingman could possibly strike out any more, and why Lenny Randle and Elliott Maddox were not only wearing major league uniforms, but getting serious playing time. The only solace was the announcing team of Bob Murphy and Ralph Kiner; Murph for his professionalism and class, and Kiner for his loveable incompetence. My favorite weekend afternoons were spent listening to a Mets doubleheader on the transistor radio at Glimmerglass State Park, riding back home in my Dad's Oldsmobile with Murph describing the late innings on the car radio, and after arriving back home to see the end of a rare Mets win, watching Kiner's Korner, seeing how many words Ralph would stumble over and what kind of insane questions he would ask. My favorite guests were Le Grand Orange, Rusty Staub, and of course, the man, Tom Seaver. Seaver was such a pro, possessing an encyclopedic knowledge of pitching and the ability to convey it, even after a grueling complete game. I loved his high pitched cackle whenever Ralph would say something crazy. Rusty was cool, charming, sophisticated, and could talk a great game. Both players epitomized in my mind what it meant to be a major league baseball player. They will always set the standard.
In 1980, the Mets were sold to publishing magnate Nelson Doubleday, of the Abner Doubledays, and Fred Wilpon. They hired Frank Cashen, architect of the great 60's and 70's Orioles teams, to be the new GM. It took a few years, but the turnaround had begun, just in time for my high school and college years. The first big acquisition was George Foster from the Reds. Big George had hit 52 homers in 1977 for the Reds, and Mets fans hadn't seen anything like him in their history. He was mostly a flop, but it gave us hope that the Mets were serious about bringing in star players. The next big move was the 1983 trade for Keith Hernandez, former co-MVP of the National League. Hernandez immediately took charge of the clubhouse and instilled an expectation of winning that had been missing since the '73 team. In 1984, the call-up of pitching phenom Dwight Gooden put the Mets right in the thick of the NL East race, eventually won by the Cubs, with the Mets finishing a respectable second. When Gary Carter was traded to New York for spare parts after the 1984 season, I knew that the Mets would be contenders for years. 1985, my senior year in High School, looked to be the year they would finally get back to the postseason. Another youngster with the impossible name of Darryl Strawberry was hitting baseballs in places where baseballs had never been hit, Gooden was untouchable, and Carter and Hernandez were having career years. They battled the Cardinals all season until succumbing in the final week.
Ah, 1986, the high point of my baseball existence. We had been so close in 1985, and with Strawberry and Gooden another year older, and Bobby Ojeda now in the rotation, we looked unbeatable. There's no doubt 1986 was my favorite summer. The Mets won games in every conceivable fashion that year. For the opponents, no lead was ever safe, no matter how late the in the game it was. My favorite game that year was in Cincinnati, when the Mets tied it with two outs in the 9th, and then ran out of position players when a brawl erupted after a steal of third by the Reds Eric Davis. Roger McDowell and Jesse Orosco spent the 10th through 13th innings switching between right field and the pitchers mound before Howard Johnson homered in the top of the 14th. That game was the essence of the '86 Mets: Whatever it takes.
The postseason that year has been dissected to exhaustion, but to be a long-suffering fan of the team that won it was the most exhilarating and rewarding experience of my baseball life. I remember being home from college for Fall Break during Game Three of the NLCS, and heading to the mall to get a haircut as the Mets fell behind early. When the haircut was done, the Mets had tied it, and then fallen behind again. Lenny Dykstra then belted a two-run homer off Astro closer Dave Smith in the bottom of the 9th, and we were up 2 games to 1. Back at school, we all gathered in my room to watch Game Six on the little 13" color TV my parents had bought me the previous Christmas. It looked bleak as Bob Knepper mowed down the Mets for eight innings, with Cy Young winner Mike Scott waiting to close it out in Game Seven. The Mets rallied for three in the 9th, and then I had to go to my Co-op Orientation Meeting. AAAUUGGHHH! I missed the Mets run in the 14th, and Billy Hatcher's foul pole homer to tie it, but I made it back in time to see the Mets score three in the 16th. The Astros scored two in the 16th, but Orosco got Kevin Bass looking, threw his glove to the ceiling, and the METS WIN THE PENNANT! I couldn't believe my eyes. The last time I had seen that, it was Tug McGraw getting mobbed at Shea in 1973. How far they had fallen, and then come back again. On to the World Series.
This is where Sox fans can stop reading (not that anyone is reading). For Game Six, my roommate and I were watching the final innings with a guy down the hall, Rob, who was from Framingham, MA. When Dave Henderson hit the homer to put the Sox up by two in the 10th, Rob was still wary, but clearly psyched. I think he went back to his room to call some of his friends back home. I remember having my finger poised on the remote button to turn the TV off if the Mets made the final out because I couldn't bear it. "My teams never win," I kept telling my roommate. And then. Well, at this point, I should have known. The Mets had been staging miraculous comebacks all year, and when I saw Bob "Steamer" Stanley trot in from the bullpen, it was over as far I was concerned. I knew from playing Strat-o-Matic that Stanley was a bum, and given the Red Sox accursed history, it all began to come together. The Buckner thing really didn't surprise me much. Whatever it takes. I do remember jumping high enough that my head almost hit the ceiling when Ray Knight crossed home. I don't recall even being worried about Game Seven. There was no way we could lose after Game Six. We fell behind early, but came storming back and won easily, 8-5. Vindication, at last.
The rest of the 80's were semi-successful. The Mets made the playoffs again in '88 only to run into the Orel Hershiser/Kirk Gibson Dodger juggernaut, and then slowly fell into decline. I moved away to Illinois and started following the Chicago White Sox, because I sure as hell wasn't going to root for the Cubs or Cardinals. Then I moved to Houston and found some room in my heart for the poor, pathetic Astros. I stopped back close to home at Cooperstown in 1992 to watch Tom Seaver get inducted into the Hall Of Fame, the first and only Met to make it. Other than that, my Met affiliation has been completely severed. Now I'm in Philly, and the Fightins are my team. I always have believed in rooting for the team that you can follow every day on radio, TV, and in the newspaper, and whose games you can actually attend if you are so inclined. I attended only five Mets games the entire time I rooted for them. Three of those were shutouts by Mets pitchers, and two of the games were in Montreal, near where I went to school. I went to three White Sox games, two in Old Comiskey and one in New Comiskey. I've been to countless Astros games. My boss had a mini-season ticket plan, and would often give me his tickets when he couldn't make it. I've only seen six Phillies games so far: four here, one in Baltimore, and one in Fenway. The Vet was a horrible place to watch a game, and the new ball park is a tough ticket. My wife and I prefer the local minor league park of the Wilmington Blue Rocks. The parking is free, the sight lines are fantastic, and it's still baseball.
Enough reminiscing. There's a season to be played.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
FAITHLESS
It's been two weeks, time for a blog entry.
I've been listening to the Stewart O'Nan/Stephen King book "Faithful" on my iPod at the gym lately, and I've decided to try the same thing with the Phillies. Like O'Nan, I come late to this particular baseball affliction, but unlike King I don't happen to possess second row behind-the-dugout seats. Alas. We'll see how it goes.
The Phillies aren't nearly as loveable as the Bosox nor do they have quite the same tortured history nor do their fans suffer the same blind devotion. The Phillies just suck, and have for a couple of decades, and for many more decades before that. Phillies fans resign themselves to mediocrity in mid-February, and content themselves with Harry Kalas' lug-ub-ri-ous de-liv-er-y while they fritter away the summer down the shore. The Fightins are mere props in the long running touring company production of an inferiority complex that is life in and around Philadelphia. There are no expectations placed on the Phillies, aside from never having enough good players. They rarely even make the post-season, which deprives the Phillies fan of the Oresteian epics with the Yankees that Boston fans must endure. Mostly, Phillies fans like the Phillies because we like being able to complain. It's what we do.
The 2005 edition of the Phils once again will labor in the shadow of the Atlanta Braves, NL East Division winners every year since the divisions were trisected and a full season was played, in 1995. The Braves were once the plaything of Ted Turner, a Steinbrennerian media mogul with an unlimited wallet and the competitive nature of Karl Rove down 10 points in the polls. Ted eventually sold out to Time Warner who merged with AOL. The corporate suits have been threatening a drastic payroll reduction for the last few years, but the Braves have always been able to piece together a winner due to the steady management of GM John Schuerholz, Manager Bobby Cox and Pitching Coach Leo Mazzone. Atlanta is in every way a model franchise. God, how I hate them. Their fans are a bunch of assholes, too. Every time I see that Tomahawk Chop, I suddenly become an activist for Native American rights. And there isn't enough space in the known universe for me to fully explain my loathing for Chipper Jones.
The rest of the division has gaping flaws. The Mets picked up Pedro Martinez and Carlos Beltran in the free-agent market, but they have no bullpen, and Mike Piazza is a liability behind the plate. The Marlins have a loaded lineup and great pitching, but you never know with them. They look terrible in April and win the World Series, and then they look great and finish below .500. It has to take a lot out of a team to play in the Miami heat all summer before a half-empty stadium. Then again, they do have two rings in the last 8 years. The Nationals are a disgrace. Major League Baseball has been holding them in escrow for the last three years while they search for a permanent owner, they've been moved to an abandoned football/soccer stadium in a city that is 90% African-American during a period when baseball has done nothing to attract minorities, and on top of all that, they have no decent players. They should be lucky to avoid 100 losses, but somehow, they'll win the season series from Philadelphia anyway.
The Phillies stumbled through Spring Training this year with a record of 11-18, second to last in the Grapefruit League. The pitching was the biggest shortcoming. Vicente Padilla missed the whole spring and will be sidelined for several weeks of the regular season, and none of the other starters impressed. The team Spring ERA of 5.85 won't translate well up North. The main controversy in the Spring was what to do with young Ryan Howard. Howard can clearly hit for power, but as a natural first baseman, he will never supplant superstar Jim Thome. The Phils had him play some innings in left field, but had it been a medical trial it would have been cut short due to imminent danger to life and health of the test subject. GM Ed Wade finally decided to park Howard in Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes Barre until an injury forces him into the lineup or until some AL team in need of a DH offers something useful. Howard demanded a trade, which Wade laughed aside while pointing to the Major League Baseball Players Association labor agreement, subpart: "Players with less than six years major league service".
Citizens Bank Park, the Phils' still-sparkly newish home, hosted the season opener. New Philly ace Jon Lieber took on Washington, scattering 10 hits (he's like the Johnny Appleseed of hits!) in an 8-4 win over Livan Hernandez. Phils center fielder Kenny Lofton, another new addition, broke open the game with a line-drive three-run homer in the bottom of the fifth. I guess he is better than Marlon Byrd.
The Nats took the final two games of the series by victimizing the Phillies bullpen. Game two was a 3-2 nailbiter in the 8th until Charlie Manuel handed the ball to Tim Worrell. Four hits and four runs later, DC led 6-3 and tacked on another against Terry Adams to win it 7-3. Worrell struck again in Game Three, giving up the tying run in the 8th while Frenchy Cormier allowed the game-winner in the 10th. They better figure this out soon, or, boy we will be complaining a lot.
On the road to St. Louis we go. The defending NL champs have an offense that Mike Martz would be proud of, but only so-so pitching, which the Phils tore into fairly quickly. They built a 5-1 lead over newcomer Mark Mulder, only to blow it in the - you guessed it - 8th inning. Ryan Madson did the honors this time, with some help from lefty Aaron Fultz, who walked Albert Pujols with the bases loaded for the go-ahead run. Yikes.
Games two and three of the Cardinal series started to make me feel a little better. Both were blowouts, 10-4 and 13-4. Pat Burrell is hotter than an authorized Paris Hilton sex video. After the St. Louis series, he has 15 RBI. Nobody else has 10. The next stop is Florida, though. Those guys drive us crazy.
Brett Myers took on Al Leiter last night in game one. I caught this one mostly from the beginning on Comcast Sportsnet. This is as good a time as any to mention the TV coverage for what won't be the last time. The Phils air on cable on Comcast Sportsnet, which is sort of a local version of ESPN, and less frequently, on the local UPN station. Sportsnet is part of the huge-o-mongus Comcast cable/high speed internet/sports franchise empire. Comcast also owns the 76ers and Flyers in addition to the arena they play in. They also host this web site, so if I say anything bad about them, they may (deleted). In any event, Comcast pretty much runs sports and sports coverage in this town. They even refuse to give their signal to DirecTV and Dish Network so that you have to subscribe to cable to watch the Phillies. (Deleted). Hey! Whatever. In general, the coverage is pretty good. Harry Kalas' voice alone usually makes it worth watching. Harry been getting kind of full himself, though, since he was inducted into the broadcasters wing of the Baseball Hall-of-Fame. He hired an agent and demanded to not have to work with color man Chris Wheeler before they finally gave him some more money last year. Actually, I can't blame him for not wanting to work with that whiny loser Wheels. Larry Andersen, an old southpaw reliever who has fashioned himself into the Steven Wright of baseball announcers, rounds out the TV crew.
Anyway, the game. Burrell did it again in the top of the first, launching an upper deck shot over the Teal Monster (oh, please) to make it 2-0. Pat promptly gave a run back in the bottom of the first by dropping a fly ball to allow Carlos Delgado to score. Leiter infuriated everyone with 3-2 counts for the next four innnings, giving up another run before they started running out of baseballs and the Marlins had to pull him. The Delgado run turned out to be it for the Fish as Brett Myers and a newly non-incendiary bullpen blanked Florida for the rest of the evening for a 4-1 win. I don't know about Billy Wagner yet. He's throwing hard, but he looks a lot more hittable. Maybe I'm overreacting. He said he wants to retire after this season if the Phillies win it all. I'm not even remotely concerned with the Phillies winning it all, but you hate to hear a guy utter the "R" word, especially in March or April.
We're 4-3, with two more in Dade County before heading home to play the Atlanta Evil Spawn. Wolfie's going tonight.
It's been two weeks, time for a blog entry.
I've been listening to the Stewart O'Nan/Stephen King book "Faithful" on my iPod at the gym lately, and I've decided to try the same thing with the Phillies. Like O'Nan, I come late to this particular baseball affliction, but unlike King I don't happen to possess second row behind-the-dugout seats. Alas. We'll see how it goes.
The Phillies aren't nearly as loveable as the Bosox nor do they have quite the same tortured history nor do their fans suffer the same blind devotion. The Phillies just suck, and have for a couple of decades, and for many more decades before that. Phillies fans resign themselves to mediocrity in mid-February, and content themselves with Harry Kalas' lug-ub-ri-ous de-liv-er-y while they fritter away the summer down the shore. The Fightins are mere props in the long running touring company production of an inferiority complex that is life in and around Philadelphia. There are no expectations placed on the Phillies, aside from never having enough good players. They rarely even make the post-season, which deprives the Phillies fan of the Oresteian epics with the Yankees that Boston fans must endure. Mostly, Phillies fans like the Phillies because we like being able to complain. It's what we do.
The 2005 edition of the Phils once again will labor in the shadow of the Atlanta Braves, NL East Division winners every year since the divisions were trisected and a full season was played, in 1995. The Braves were once the plaything of Ted Turner, a Steinbrennerian media mogul with an unlimited wallet and the competitive nature of Karl Rove down 10 points in the polls. Ted eventually sold out to Time Warner who merged with AOL. The corporate suits have been threatening a drastic payroll reduction for the last few years, but the Braves have always been able to piece together a winner due to the steady management of GM John Schuerholz, Manager Bobby Cox and Pitching Coach Leo Mazzone. Atlanta is in every way a model franchise. God, how I hate them. Their fans are a bunch of assholes, too. Every time I see that Tomahawk Chop, I suddenly become an activist for Native American rights. And there isn't enough space in the known universe for me to fully explain my loathing for Chipper Jones.
The rest of the division has gaping flaws. The Mets picked up Pedro Martinez and Carlos Beltran in the free-agent market, but they have no bullpen, and Mike Piazza is a liability behind the plate. The Marlins have a loaded lineup and great pitching, but you never know with them. They look terrible in April and win the World Series, and then they look great and finish below .500. It has to take a lot out of a team to play in the Miami heat all summer before a half-empty stadium. Then again, they do have two rings in the last 8 years. The Nationals are a disgrace. Major League Baseball has been holding them in escrow for the last three years while they search for a permanent owner, they've been moved to an abandoned football/soccer stadium in a city that is 90% African-American during a period when baseball has done nothing to attract minorities, and on top of all that, they have no decent players. They should be lucky to avoid 100 losses, but somehow, they'll win the season series from Philadelphia anyway.
The Phillies stumbled through Spring Training this year with a record of 11-18, second to last in the Grapefruit League. The pitching was the biggest shortcoming. Vicente Padilla missed the whole spring and will be sidelined for several weeks of the regular season, and none of the other starters impressed. The team Spring ERA of 5.85 won't translate well up North. The main controversy in the Spring was what to do with young Ryan Howard. Howard can clearly hit for power, but as a natural first baseman, he will never supplant superstar Jim Thome. The Phils had him play some innings in left field, but had it been a medical trial it would have been cut short due to imminent danger to life and health of the test subject. GM Ed Wade finally decided to park Howard in Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes Barre until an injury forces him into the lineup or until some AL team in need of a DH offers something useful. Howard demanded a trade, which Wade laughed aside while pointing to the Major League Baseball Players Association labor agreement, subpart: "Players with less than six years major league service".
Citizens Bank Park, the Phils' still-sparkly newish home, hosted the season opener. New Philly ace Jon Lieber took on Washington, scattering 10 hits (he's like the Johnny Appleseed of hits!) in an 8-4 win over Livan Hernandez. Phils center fielder Kenny Lofton, another new addition, broke open the game with a line-drive three-run homer in the bottom of the fifth. I guess he is better than Marlon Byrd.
The Nats took the final two games of the series by victimizing the Phillies bullpen. Game two was a 3-2 nailbiter in the 8th until Charlie Manuel handed the ball to Tim Worrell. Four hits and four runs later, DC led 6-3 and tacked on another against Terry Adams to win it 7-3. Worrell struck again in Game Three, giving up the tying run in the 8th while Frenchy Cormier allowed the game-winner in the 10th. They better figure this out soon, or, boy we will be complaining a lot.
On the road to St. Louis we go. The defending NL champs have an offense that Mike Martz would be proud of, but only so-so pitching, which the Phils tore into fairly quickly. They built a 5-1 lead over newcomer Mark Mulder, only to blow it in the - you guessed it - 8th inning. Ryan Madson did the honors this time, with some help from lefty Aaron Fultz, who walked Albert Pujols with the bases loaded for the go-ahead run. Yikes.
Games two and three of the Cardinal series started to make me feel a little better. Both were blowouts, 10-4 and 13-4. Pat Burrell is hotter than an authorized Paris Hilton sex video. After the St. Louis series, he has 15 RBI. Nobody else has 10. The next stop is Florida, though. Those guys drive us crazy.
Brett Myers took on Al Leiter last night in game one. I caught this one mostly from the beginning on Comcast Sportsnet. This is as good a time as any to mention the TV coverage for what won't be the last time. The Phils air on cable on Comcast Sportsnet, which is sort of a local version of ESPN, and less frequently, on the local UPN station. Sportsnet is part of the huge-o-mongus Comcast cable/high speed internet/sports franchise empire. Comcast also owns the 76ers and Flyers in addition to the arena they play in. They also host this web site, so if I say anything bad about them, they may (deleted). In any event, Comcast pretty much runs sports and sports coverage in this town. They even refuse to give their signal to DirecTV and Dish Network so that you have to subscribe to cable to watch the Phillies. (Deleted). Hey! Whatever. In general, the coverage is pretty good. Harry Kalas' voice alone usually makes it worth watching. Harry been getting kind of full himself, though, since he was inducted into the broadcasters wing of the Baseball Hall-of-Fame. He hired an agent and demanded to not have to work with color man Chris Wheeler before they finally gave him some more money last year. Actually, I can't blame him for not wanting to work with that whiny loser Wheels. Larry Andersen, an old southpaw reliever who has fashioned himself into the Steven Wright of baseball announcers, rounds out the TV crew.
Anyway, the game. Burrell did it again in the top of the first, launching an upper deck shot over the Teal Monster (oh, please) to make it 2-0. Pat promptly gave a run back in the bottom of the first by dropping a fly ball to allow Carlos Delgado to score. Leiter infuriated everyone with 3-2 counts for the next four innnings, giving up another run before they started running out of baseballs and the Marlins had to pull him. The Delgado run turned out to be it for the Fish as Brett Myers and a newly non-incendiary bullpen blanked Florida for the rest of the evening for a 4-1 win. I don't know about Billy Wagner yet. He's throwing hard, but he looks a lot more hittable. Maybe I'm overreacting. He said he wants to retire after this season if the Phillies win it all. I'm not even remotely concerned with the Phillies winning it all, but you hate to hear a guy utter the "R" word, especially in March or April.
We're 4-3, with two more in Dade County before heading home to play the Atlanta Evil Spawn. Wolfie's going tonight.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Monday, March 21, 2005
Friday, March 18, 2005
LEAVE EVERY TINY LITTLE THING TO US
Holding hearings on steroids in baseball, issusing a subpeona to Terry Schiavo...welcome to your new and improved Full Service Congress!
You have a problem? We'll take it on! No problem is too small. Sure, we used to worry about stuff like war, civil rights, the Hawley-Smoot tariff, whatever the heck that was, but not anymore. Now we're focusing laser-like on your personal life. Yeah, you, buddy!
Got a neighbor playing his stereo too loud? Sounds like a job for the House International Relations Committee. Well, if your neighbor is Indian or something. God knows, sitar music isn't for everybody. The point is, Congress has nothing better to do! Nobody cares what we say about Iraq, Iran, or any of those other crazy places, or Social Security, or proliferation of nuclear material, or global warming (pffft!). Which is cool with us. We'd rather get some face time mediating disputes involving narrow issues that lots of our constituents are on one side of. It makes things so much easier.
So, sign up today! Contact your local Congressperson, and if you favorably answer the questions on our brief questionnaire (Question 1: Has this problem appeared on television on at least one major news network? Question 2: Do all your Republican friends agree on this issue?) we'll be holding hearings before you can say "abuse of power".
Holding hearings on steroids in baseball, issusing a subpeona to Terry Schiavo...welcome to your new and improved Full Service Congress!
You have a problem? We'll take it on! No problem is too small. Sure, we used to worry about stuff like war, civil rights, the Hawley-Smoot tariff, whatever the heck that was, but not anymore. Now we're focusing laser-like on your personal life. Yeah, you, buddy!
Got a neighbor playing his stereo too loud? Sounds like a job for the House International Relations Committee. Well, if your neighbor is Indian or something. God knows, sitar music isn't for everybody. The point is, Congress has nothing better to do! Nobody cares what we say about Iraq, Iran, or any of those other crazy places, or Social Security, or proliferation of nuclear material, or global warming (pffft!). Which is cool with us. We'd rather get some face time mediating disputes involving narrow issues that lots of our constituents are on one side of. It makes things so much easier.
So, sign up today! Contact your local Congressperson, and if you favorably answer the questions on our brief questionnaire (Question 1: Has this problem appeared on television on at least one major news network? Question 2: Do all your Republican friends agree on this issue?) we'll be holding hearings before you can say "abuse of power".
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Monday, February 14, 2005
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
ASK MONICA
Bill Clinton is being tapped by the U.N. to head up the tsunami relief effort.
Great choice. He's got a lot of experience dealing with wave after wave of!...oh, wait, wrong waves.
Bill Clinton is being tapped by the U.N. to head up the tsunami relief effort.
Great choice. He's got a lot of experience dealing with wave after wave of!...oh, wait, wrong waves.
HYPE PRESSURE AREA
Many people say there's too much Super Bowl hype. TCP says, "There's too many people who say there's too much Super Bowl hype!" Before we descend into a self-inflicted death spiral, we thought it would be helpful to provide a guide to Super Bowl week so that you don't actually have to watch it (or comment on it) yourself.
MONDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "Is T.O. going to play?"; "Can T.O. be ready by Sunday?"; "If T.O.'s fibula were a tree, what kind of tree would it be?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Are the Patriots a dynasty"; "When will you decide you're a dynasty?"; "If you win, is Bill Belichick going to change his name to Blake Carrington?"
TUESDAY:
Eagles Media Day. Questions will include, "What exactly is in a cheesesteak?"; "Who cracked the Liberty Bell?"; "It was T.O., wasn't it?"
Patriots Media Day. Questions will include, "Why do they call it Beantown?"; "Is it Foxboro or Foxborough? Or maybe Phahcksbireau?" "How about them Red Sox?"
WEDNESDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "How's T.O. doing?"; "Is T.O. any closer?"; "What would T.O. want God to say when he arrived at the pearly gates?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "How great a coach are you, Coach Belichick?"; "Are you guys the greatest team ever in the history of the universe, including the Roman Legion?"; "Coach Belichick, could you do my son's Advanced String Theory homework?"
THURSDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "How about it?"; "Any chance?"; "How about if I ask that T.O. question in one syllable?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Is there any way on God's green earth that an unstoppable juggernaut with the smartest coach in the history of sentient beings can lose?"; "If you guys lose, would a black hole come up from under the field and swallow the whole city of Jacksonville."; "Would that be an improvement?"
FRIDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "Well? (see I told you I could do it!)"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Coach, do you think your team could defeat an army of Romulans, Aliens, Predators, Mongols, Huns, Nazis, Al Qaeda, the Manson Family, the SLA, Ted Bundy and Scott Peterson, with their hands tied behind their backs, blindfolded, and their feet tied together simply by using their minds?"
SATURDAY:
Official Hype-Free Day, brought to you by Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Taco Bell, Burger King, Coors Light, Bud Light, Miller Genuine Draft, Tostitos, Cialis, Monster.com, Quiznos, Subway, Siemens, BASF, Charles Schwab, TD Waterhouse, Chunky Soup, Lexus, Toyota, GMC Trucks, EBay, Wal-Mart, ExxonMobil, Archer Daniels Midland, Halliburton, and Lockheed Martin.
SUNDAY:
FOX Pre-Game Show, starting at 12:00.01 AM.
12:00.01 to 2 AM - Terry Bradshaw acts all crazy and shit
2 AM to 4 AM - Howie Long calls Bradshaw crazy and challenges him to a rasslin' match
4 AM to 6 AM - Jimmy Johnson gets his hair shellacked
6 AM to 8 AM - Joe Buck reacts to Randy Moss' bootleg sex video
8 AM to 10 AM - Pam Oliver interviews Terrell Owens and finally gets the spanking she deserves.
10 AM to Noon - J.B. does nothing, but with class and quiet dignity.
Noon to 2 PM - Cris Collinsworth tries to stir up controversy until everyone realizes he sucked with the Bengals
2 PM to 4 PM - Troy Aikman makes broad, obvious statements that even a 70's Brian Wilson would consider sane and rational
4 PM to 5 PM - Johnson's hair gets a second coat prior to gametime
5 PM to 5:01 PM - Actual game analysis. Everyone agrees that the Pats should win, but that the Eagles could win if they "force at least eleven turnovers and Charlie Weis calls the offensive plays using the Jumbotron"
5:01 PM to 6:30 PM - Ogling Jillian Barberie (well, we can hope, anyway)
6:30 PM - Kickoff! Brought to you by The Simple Life: Interns
Halftime - FOX Super Bowl Halftime Special, starring Laura Bush, Mary Lou Retton, Celine Dion, and the FCC Approved Dancers
Enjoy the week everybody! And bet with your head, not over it. (Note: Super Bowl wagering is illegal in 49 states and the District of Columbia. *snort!* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Seriously, take the under, unless T.O. looks healthy.)
Many people say there's too much Super Bowl hype. TCP says, "There's too many people who say there's too much Super Bowl hype!" Before we descend into a self-inflicted death spiral, we thought it would be helpful to provide a guide to Super Bowl week so that you don't actually have to watch it (or comment on it) yourself.
MONDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "Is T.O. going to play?"; "Can T.O. be ready by Sunday?"; "If T.O.'s fibula were a tree, what kind of tree would it be?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Are the Patriots a dynasty"; "When will you decide you're a dynasty?"; "If you win, is Bill Belichick going to change his name to Blake Carrington?"
TUESDAY:
Eagles Media Day. Questions will include, "What exactly is in a cheesesteak?"; "Who cracked the Liberty Bell?"; "It was T.O., wasn't it?"
Patriots Media Day. Questions will include, "Why do they call it Beantown?"; "Is it Foxboro or Foxborough? Or maybe Phahcksbireau?" "How about them Red Sox?"
WEDNESDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "How's T.O. doing?"; "Is T.O. any closer?"; "What would T.O. want God to say when he arrived at the pearly gates?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "How great a coach are you, Coach Belichick?"; "Are you guys the greatest team ever in the history of the universe, including the Roman Legion?"; "Coach Belichick, could you do my son's Advanced String Theory homework?"
THURSDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "How about it?"; "Any chance?"; "How about if I ask that T.O. question in one syllable?"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Is there any way on God's green earth that an unstoppable juggernaut with the smartest coach in the history of sentient beings can lose?"; "If you guys lose, would a black hole come up from under the field and swallow the whole city of Jacksonville."; "Would that be an improvement?"
FRIDAY:
Eagles Press Conference. Questions will include, "Well? (see I told you I could do it!)"
Patriots Press Conference. Questions will include, "Coach, do you think your team could defeat an army of Romulans, Aliens, Predators, Mongols, Huns, Nazis, Al Qaeda, the Manson Family, the SLA, Ted Bundy and Scott Peterson, with their hands tied behind their backs, blindfolded, and their feet tied together simply by using their minds?"
SATURDAY:
Official Hype-Free Day, brought to you by Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Taco Bell, Burger King, Coors Light, Bud Light, Miller Genuine Draft, Tostitos, Cialis, Monster.com, Quiznos, Subway, Siemens, BASF, Charles Schwab, TD Waterhouse, Chunky Soup, Lexus, Toyota, GMC Trucks, EBay, Wal-Mart, ExxonMobil, Archer Daniels Midland, Halliburton, and Lockheed Martin.
SUNDAY:
FOX Pre-Game Show, starting at 12:00.01 AM.
12:00.01 to 2 AM - Terry Bradshaw acts all crazy and shit
2 AM to 4 AM - Howie Long calls Bradshaw crazy and challenges him to a rasslin' match
4 AM to 6 AM - Jimmy Johnson gets his hair shellacked
6 AM to 8 AM - Joe Buck reacts to Randy Moss' bootleg sex video
8 AM to 10 AM - Pam Oliver interviews Terrell Owens and finally gets the spanking she deserves.
10 AM to Noon - J.B. does nothing, but with class and quiet dignity.
Noon to 2 PM - Cris Collinsworth tries to stir up controversy until everyone realizes he sucked with the Bengals
2 PM to 4 PM - Troy Aikman makes broad, obvious statements that even a 70's Brian Wilson would consider sane and rational
4 PM to 5 PM - Johnson's hair gets a second coat prior to gametime
5 PM to 5:01 PM - Actual game analysis. Everyone agrees that the Pats should win, but that the Eagles could win if they "force at least eleven turnovers and Charlie Weis calls the offensive plays using the Jumbotron"
5:01 PM to 6:30 PM - Ogling Jillian Barberie (well, we can hope, anyway)
6:30 PM - Kickoff! Brought to you by The Simple Life: Interns
Halftime - FOX Super Bowl Halftime Special, starring Laura Bush, Mary Lou Retton, Celine Dion, and the FCC Approved Dancers
Enjoy the week everybody! And bet with your head, not over it. (Note: Super Bowl wagering is illegal in 49 states and the District of Columbia. *snort!* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Seriously, take the under, unless T.O. looks healthy.)
Thursday, January 27, 2005
YOU ASKED...
Washington Post columnist Maggie Gallagher was paid $21,500 by the Department of Health and Human Services to defend in her column President Bush's $300 million program encouraging marriage as a way to strengthen families. When asked by Post colleague Howard Kurtz if she felt she had violated journalistic ethics, she replied, "I don't know. You tell me."
Ok, Maggie. Read closely:
Scroll down some more...
Just a little more...
You'll be glad you did...
YES!
Washington Post columnist Maggie Gallagher was paid $21,500 by the Department of Health and Human Services to defend in her column President Bush's $300 million program encouraging marriage as a way to strengthen families. When asked by Post colleague Howard Kurtz if she felt she had violated journalistic ethics, she replied, "I don't know. You tell me."
Ok, Maggie. Read closely:
Scroll down some more...
Just a little more...
You'll be glad you did...
YES!
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
SIC SAD WORLDTM, Volume Next Highest Number
From Salon.com's The Fix, on the decidedly non-fatal nor massively destructive breakup of Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt:
"Speaking on behalf of Us Weekly, Wenner Media general manager Kent Brownridge put it this way: 'For a celebrity weekly, this is our tsunami.'"
From Salon.com's The Fix, on the decidedly non-fatal nor massively destructive breakup of Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt:
"Speaking on behalf of Us Weekly, Wenner Media general manager Kent Brownridge put it this way: 'For a celebrity weekly, this is our tsunami.'"
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
THE "ME" ENTRY
Why did it just occur to me today that both of Tony Orlando and Dawn's big hits are about non-verbal communication?
Sorry, searchers, Bitty Schram still isn't nude anywhere on my site, but today is my birthday! In honor of me, I've decided to list my many accomplishments.
Little League, 1976 - Hustle Award. Boy, have I changed.
Little League, 1978, 1979 - All-Star. My dad was the coach.
8th Grade Graduation, 1981 - Four of nine academic awards. That little b*tch Maureen, who now writes occasional book reviews for the New York Times (seriously), moved to my town for the last half of the year and took the other five. I'm not bitter. Hey, at least Michiko Kakutani didn't move into my town, or I wouldn't have won jack.
High School Graduation, 1985 - Valedictorian. It was a small town, and Maureen had long since moved away.
College Graduation, 1989 - Bachelor of Science, Chemical Engineering. Notice the distinct lack of Latin phrases after that.
Personal, 1993 - Marriage License. Just in case my wife ever discovers this blog.
Work, 1994 - 5 Year Service Award. Pretty much self-explanatory. And all-encompassing.
Home, 1996 - World's Greatest Dad, as awarded by my cat via my wife as proxy. This award was presented under a cloud of suspicion, where it remains today.
Other Work, 2003 - 5 Year Service Award. Somewhere along the line I decided that the 10-year Service Award at my first job was too challenging.
Well, that's it. Only two more years until I win the coveted Black Balloons of Middle Age award!
Why did it just occur to me today that both of Tony Orlando and Dawn's big hits are about non-verbal communication?
Sorry, searchers, Bitty Schram still isn't nude anywhere on my site, but today is my birthday! In honor of me, I've decided to list my many accomplishments.
Little League, 1976 - Hustle Award. Boy, have I changed.
Little League, 1978, 1979 - All-Star. My dad was the coach.
8th Grade Graduation, 1981 - Four of nine academic awards. That little b*tch Maureen, who now writes occasional book reviews for the New York Times (seriously), moved to my town for the last half of the year and took the other five. I'm not bitter. Hey, at least Michiko Kakutani didn't move into my town, or I wouldn't have won jack.
High School Graduation, 1985 - Valedictorian. It was a small town, and Maureen had long since moved away.
College Graduation, 1989 - Bachelor of Science, Chemical Engineering. Notice the distinct lack of Latin phrases after that.
Personal, 1993 - Marriage License. Just in case my wife ever discovers this blog.
Work, 1994 - 5 Year Service Award. Pretty much self-explanatory. And all-encompassing.
Home, 1996 - World's Greatest Dad, as awarded by my cat via my wife as proxy. This award was presented under a cloud of suspicion, where it remains today.
Other Work, 2003 - 5 Year Service Award. Somewhere along the line I decided that the 10-year Service Award at my first job was too challenging.
Well, that's it. Only two more years until I win the coveted Black Balloons of Middle Age award!
Saturday, January 01, 2005
A (REALLY BORING) CHRISTMAS STORY
I promised more. I never promised good.
Our Christmas started at the Philadelphia International Airport. It remained there several hours later as a single lonely US Airways employee slowly loaded bags into the cargo hold of our plane to Orlando. Very slowly. More slowly than Estelle Getty completing the Ironman Triathlon.
Finally, we arrived in the Seasonal Rain State. The rental house my niece booked did, in fact, exist, and we all settled in for the week. We called the maintenance guy to turn on the heat to the jacuzzi. It may come on sometime next week. It never heated up while we were there, but it was fun imagining we had a jacuzzi.
Day 2 was Christmas Eve. My sisters, their families, and my mother came over. Absolutely nothing happened. I mean, things happened, but I was too busy watching football and playing PlayStation with my brother to have paid attention. We played Trivial Pursuit. It was aptly named.
Ah, Christmas, when 33 adults and 9 children cram into a rental house and eat enough to feed several villages worth of tsunami survivors. The best part was when my grandnephew ran head first into the sliding glass door, and appeared to improve. My nieces organized a $20 buy-in Texas Hold 'Em game in lieu of watching their children. Who could blame them? I snagged two scratch-off lottery tickets in the Yankee Swap. I hope to parlay the $5 I won into a recording contract. Actually, I bought five Florida Lottery quick picks.
I'm getting tired of writing this, and let's face it, Christmas was the money shot anyway. Let's condense. Princesses (or at least really hot actresses playing princesses) everywhere at Disney. My grandniece peed on her mother. Traffic on I-4. My sister's dog peed on my wife. Traffic on 192. I conflated Susan Sontag and Erica Jong (I'm such an idiot). Several cell phone calls. More visits with my sisters. Lunch at Universal. "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou" (loved it). More traffic on 192. The Pats beat the Jets (real life), and the Eagles beat the Falcons (PlayStation. I was the Eagles). An uneventful flight back to Philadelphia. And now I'm here typing this.
The Florida Lottery drawing is tonight. Wish me luck! If I win, either I never have to write in this blog again, or all I ever have to do is write in this blog. I hope I find out.
I promised more. I never promised good.
Our Christmas started at the Philadelphia International Airport. It remained there several hours later as a single lonely US Airways employee slowly loaded bags into the cargo hold of our plane to Orlando. Very slowly. More slowly than Estelle Getty completing the Ironman Triathlon.
Finally, we arrived in the Seasonal Rain State. The rental house my niece booked did, in fact, exist, and we all settled in for the week. We called the maintenance guy to turn on the heat to the jacuzzi. It may come on sometime next week. It never heated up while we were there, but it was fun imagining we had a jacuzzi.
Day 2 was Christmas Eve. My sisters, their families, and my mother came over. Absolutely nothing happened. I mean, things happened, but I was too busy watching football and playing PlayStation with my brother to have paid attention. We played Trivial Pursuit. It was aptly named.
Ah, Christmas, when 33 adults and 9 children cram into a rental house and eat enough to feed several villages worth of tsunami survivors. The best part was when my grandnephew ran head first into the sliding glass door, and appeared to improve. My nieces organized a $20 buy-in Texas Hold 'Em game in lieu of watching their children. Who could blame them? I snagged two scratch-off lottery tickets in the Yankee Swap. I hope to parlay the $5 I won into a recording contract. Actually, I bought five Florida Lottery quick picks.
I'm getting tired of writing this, and let's face it, Christmas was the money shot anyway. Let's condense. Princesses (or at least really hot actresses playing princesses) everywhere at Disney. My grandniece peed on her mother. Traffic on I-4. My sister's dog peed on my wife. Traffic on 192. I conflated Susan Sontag and Erica Jong (I'm such an idiot). Several cell phone calls. More visits with my sisters. Lunch at Universal. "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou" (loved it). More traffic on 192. The Pats beat the Jets (real life), and the Eagles beat the Falcons (PlayStation. I was the Eagles). An uneventful flight back to Philadelphia. And now I'm here typing this.
The Florida Lottery drawing is tonight. Wish me luck! If I win, either I never have to write in this blog again, or all I ever have to do is write in this blog. I hope I find out.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
THE REAL REAL WORLD
This is the true story of nine people, picked by birth and marriage to live in a house in Florida around the Christmas holiday and have their lives blogged. Watch what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting...familial.
It's that time of the year, when people who have nothing in common with each other besides serially subletting the same womb get together to celebrate the birth of someone they probably have even less in common with. My family will gather in the "I Can't Believe It's Not A Democracy" state of Florida, where many of them already live and are disenfranchised. Most of the rest of us who live in states where they actually count the votes will gather in a rental home picked out by my niece from a list of about 6,700 web sites, according to Google. The house has an address, so we're hoping it actually exists. It may end up being imaginary, in which case we'll kill my niece and serve her in a rich bearnaise sauce.
As far as I can divine, this particular house has no high speed internet access, making actual blogging problematic. Nevertheless, I am packing the Official Laptop of The Crossbow Project, which I recently purchased with money that should be in my 401K. Since the house supposedly has phone lines (how quaint!), I should be able to partake of NetZero, assuming my housemates exclusively use their cell phones to contact their dealers. That sister-in-law of mine, what a crank fiend!
We depart from Philadelphia's piquant (or, more accurately, urine-soaked) airport on Thursday. More to follow...
This is the true story of nine people, picked by birth and marriage to live in a house in Florida around the Christmas holiday and have their lives blogged. Watch what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting...familial.
It's that time of the year, when people who have nothing in common with each other besides serially subletting the same womb get together to celebrate the birth of someone they probably have even less in common with. My family will gather in the "I Can't Believe It's Not A Democracy" state of Florida, where many of them already live and are disenfranchised. Most of the rest of us who live in states where they actually count the votes will gather in a rental home picked out by my niece from a list of about 6,700 web sites, according to Google. The house has an address, so we're hoping it actually exists. It may end up being imaginary, in which case we'll kill my niece and serve her in a rich bearnaise sauce.
As far as I can divine, this particular house has no high speed internet access, making actual blogging problematic. Nevertheless, I am packing the Official Laptop of The Crossbow Project, which I recently purchased with money that should be in my 401K. Since the house supposedly has phone lines (how quaint!), I should be able to partake of NetZero, assuming my housemates exclusively use their cell phones to contact their dealers. That sister-in-law of mine, what a crank fiend!
We depart from Philadelphia's piquant (or, more accurately, urine-soaked) airport on Thursday. More to follow...
DOWNWARD UPWARD MOBILITY
Wackenhut, the security firm essentially fired after 9/11 by the US Government from their bang-up job of protecting the nation's airports, is now protecting the nation's uranium stockpile, with predictable results.
What if the sports world and the private sector worked like the government? Here are a few historical headlines that might have been:
1973: MUNICH BASKETBALL ARENA TIMER TO RUN SWISS WATCH COMPANY
1979: JOE PISARCIK TABBED AS GIANTS OFFENSIVE COORDINATOR
1987: BILL BUCKNER TO RELEASE FIELDING INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEO
1991: BILLS SIGN SCOTT NORWOOD TO LIFETIME PLACE-KICKING CONTRACT
1998: TYSON CHOSEN AS NY TIMES FOOD CRITIC
2004: BARTMAN GETS FREE CUBS SEASON TICKETS, FIRST ROW THIRD BASE LINE
Wackenhut, the security firm essentially fired after 9/11 by the US Government from their bang-up job of protecting the nation's airports, is now protecting the nation's uranium stockpile, with predictable results.
What if the sports world and the private sector worked like the government? Here are a few historical headlines that might have been:
1973: MUNICH BASKETBALL ARENA TIMER TO RUN SWISS WATCH COMPANY
1979: JOE PISARCIK TABBED AS GIANTS OFFENSIVE COORDINATOR
1987: BILL BUCKNER TO RELEASE FIELDING INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEO
1991: BILLS SIGN SCOTT NORWOOD TO LIFETIME PLACE-KICKING CONTRACT
1998: TYSON CHOSEN AS NY TIMES FOOD CRITIC
2004: BARTMAN GETS FREE CUBS SEASON TICKETS, FIRST ROW THIRD BASE LINE
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