Baseball – Regular Guy

Regular Guy’s Afternoon Off

brian — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 14:27:15 +0000

I think everyone has wanted their own Ferris Bueller moment. You know, the day when you simply throw all your cares away and grab life by the scruff of the neck instead of going through your daily business.

That didn’t happen last week, but I did indulge myself in some of the movie character’s shenanigans. I went to a noon-time baseball game down in Baltimore.

The whole escapade bore little resemblance to what you see in the movies. I arranged for the afternoon off well in advance, I didn’t go with any friends, and I certainly did not tool around in a priceless sports car on my way to Oriole Park.

I didn’t even catch a foul ball.

But I did enjoy a warm, sunny day, eat a couple of hot dogs and savor an adult beverage. I also ran into two old friends and caught up with them.

That beats a day of work in my book.

Ironically, I read an article earlier in the day where an executive preached the importance of disconnecting from our connected lives from time to time. He spent nine days on vacation without a cell phone, tablet or computer. He didn’t even read the newspaper.

Now I don’t think all of us need to go that far, but I think the idea of simply throwing caution to the wind and having some time to ourselves makes a ton of sense.

I did have my phone with me because I don’t have to constantly check my e-mail and such when I take some time off. The secret for me lies in disconnecting mentally, not physically.

I didn’t worry that no one I knew could go to the game. An out-of-town friend had initially intended to visit during the day, but had to push his plans back. Siblings either couldn’t get off of work or had other plans. Friends envied me for getting the afternoon off.

So I had no problem settling into a seat by myself and getting ready for a great American tradition. I watch sports alone often enough on television so I didn’t see much difference. I don’t think we need to have a crowd around us at all times.

Still, I enjoyed it when a grade school friend swung by my seat. He saw a post on Facebook where I let people know where I would be and decided to come by. We spent several innings catching up and reminiscing.

Then I saw a former co-worker post a picture on Facebook of his view and realized he had sat down a few rows ahead of me in the great quest to find the perfect seat that you didn’t want to pay for. We also chatted for a while.

I ended up catching the last few innings (and the disappointing 11^th-inning resolution) solo in a seat a couple dozen rows behind home plate. On the ride home, the disappointment of an Orioles loss could not overwhelm the satisfaction of the enjoyable experience.

The O’s have two more midweek afternoon games. The York Revolution and Harrisburg Senators each have a handful of late-morning or early-afternoon games (mainly aimed at schools and summer camps). Why not carve out some time for yourself and enjoy a game?

Oriole Memories

brian — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 13:28:14 +0000

Like with most things, I discovered the news from my friends online. I don’t know whether I first saw the announcement on Twitter or Facebook, but I learned Earl Weaver had died when I checked in to see if anyone had posted any funny pictures while I was busy.

I try not to get caught up in hero worship so I didn’t have an immediate visceral reaction to the news. Weaver was 82 years old. He lived a good, long life. I couldn’t get too sad over the death of someone I never met, but one other emotion did take over.

Nostalgia.

Some of the best times I had growing up related to Baltimore’s baseball team. Weaver played a big role because I could, for some reason, relate to a short, temperamental person born on August 14. Sharing a birthday with the manager of my favorite team always made me smile for some silly reason.

Weaver also had a story that I could relate to. He never made it to the major leagues and eventually channeled his passion for the game into managing. The chip on his shoulder might have come from knowing he missed reaching his dream by just one step.

I never had a chance to even sniff the minor leagues, and can’t say that my life paralleled Earl Weaver’s in any way, shape or form, but I did learn some lessons as I obsessively followed the team in my elementary school days.

Back then, baseball was a family affair for me. Both my parents grew up avid fans of the game, and they passed that down. Sometimes, a whole bunch of us would plan for a night at Memorial Stadium, but more often than not, we would go to a game on a lark because you could always find a seat in the bleachers.

We would dissect the decision to play Cal Ripken at shortstop and debate the merits of the new rookie who had appeared in the bullpen. So many great Oriole pitchers started their careers that way, we always had hope that another legend would grow before our very eyes.

At the same time, the team resembled a family in a way teams just don’t seem to anymore. This could sound like a (getting older) guy complaining about the good ol’ days in sports, but that’s really not the point. I understand why things have changed for pro athletes.

That doesn’t mean that the era I grew up in didn’t affect me. I could go to games with my older brothers for a pretty low price and watch a bunch of guys who really seemed to care about each other led by a guy who I could relate to on some superficial level.

I don’t know if that can happen again. I carry as much of the blame as the current atmosphere in pro sports. My days of covering sports as a reporter along with my coaching and officiating experience make it hard for me to get too wrapped up in things anymore. I really enjoy the games, but just can’t invest the love and hate I used to.

That’s why I smiled a little inside when I thought about Earl Weaver last week. I’m glad I have those memories.

The Magic Has Returned

brian — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 17:31:38 +0000

As I got ready for work the other day, I spotted something hidden behind a chair in our computer. Once I realized what it was, I knew I had to make a change.

So I found an empty nail in the wall and hung the frame which held some special memories for me. I figured with the Baltimore Orioles actually in the hunt for the playoffs, I could return the tickets for the final three games at Memorial Stadium, the first game at Oriole Park and the 1993 All-Star Game back to a place of prominence.

Growing up, few things meant as much to me as my hometown’s baseball team. I grew up in a house filled with baseball fans and have distinct memories of cheering the Birds on during those glory days.

When I went away to a sleepover wrestling camp for the first time, my father gave me a tiny battery-operated radio which I could use to sooth any homesickness (didn’t work – I had a rough week) and keep up with the scores.

Most Oriole fans have memories of the June 22, 1979 game when a home run by Doug Decinces capped a comeback win, a game credited for giving birth to the notion of “Orioles Magic.” I have clearer memories of the doubleheader a day later which featured a pair of comeback wins. We had a family cookout night (eating between games of course) and gathered around the radio en masse to listen those final innings.

During the spring of my junior year in college, a friend kept warning me the hot start for the O’s would come to an end. When we got back to school in the fall of 1989 for our final year, he had to admit that the “Why Not?” team had proved him wrong.

My love for the team has honest origins, but so do the reasons I have drifted away in recent years. Family, work, the way Peter Angelos has run the team and many other factors have conspired to make me only follow the Birds from a distance.

But something has changed this year. The promise of young players fans have heard of for so long has actually panned out. No one has blown out their arm or come down to earth after an ungodly performance early in the season. They have had the kind of luck every winning team needs.

This has allowed me to proudly embrace my fair-weather fan status. I used to just kind of keep up with the team when I heard others bring them up in conversation. True to my constant also-ran status in my fantasy baseball league, I would nod and smile and pretend I really understood what was happening with the team.

Now I make sure to watch a few innings here and there, sometimes even catching most of a game. I have started to yell at the TV when something good happens. I might even open up my wallet and go see a game, through gritted teeth since I still can’t stand the owner.

But most of all I will rekindle those memories from when I moved heaven and earth so I could see that final series at the old stadium, spending the final game surrounded by strangers three rows from the top of the upper deck behind home plate. Something magic has indeed happened.

An Orioles Memory

brian — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 15:38:04 +0000

In “Groundhog Day,” one of my favorite movies, Phil Connors picks an enjoyable day from his past and wonders, “Why couldn’t I get that day over, and over, and over….”

Now I don’t want to make it sound like I am stuck in an endless loop at this point in my life, but I look back to what I was doing 20 years ago today and wonder if I could get that day over and over and over.

Less than two years out of college, a short period of unemployment had just ended when I accepted a job in Hanover. While that does rank up there because it led me to my wife and all the wonderful things which have happened over the past two decades, April 3, 1992 stands out for a different reason.

Baltimore opened its new baseball stadium that day.

The official records say that Oriole Park at Camden Yards opened on April 6 of that year, but that doesn’t take into account the exhibition game the team played a few days earlier against the New York Mets.

As luck would have it, my late father was partners in a law firm with someone who played a critical role in the development of the groundbreaking stadium. That allowed us to have a few perks along the way.

One of my sisters and I went downtown a few months before the first games for a special tour of the still-unfinished stadium. Only half of the outfield had grass. Some areas of the facility didn’t have seats yet. The press box had none of the finishing touches I would come to enjoy when I would occasionally cover games over the next few years.

That visit made me appreciate the finished product 20 years ago even more than I expected. Not only had I seen it grow from the outside – I had a part-time job at nearby Harborplace – but I knew the potential a half-finished interior held.

We had the opportunity to watch the exhibition game and home opener in style. The team gave my Dad’s law firm a skybox for the two games. At least I want to think they gave it to the firm, but the owner at the time, Eli Jacobs, needed money. Regardless, we had great seats, plenty of food and perfect weather. I was in heaven even if I knew the team had a bad owner and might have trouble competing.

It’s funny how things come full circle. At that time, I only knew the name Angelos through wrestling – I competed against the son of current Orioles owner Peter Angelos in high school. Now I have the same disdain for Angelos as I did for Jacobs back then with the team nowhere near its glory days.

But even with the problems Orioles fans seem to always have with the team’s owner, we still have those sun-soaked days in early April 1992. We have that first vision of the green seats. We have that feeling of awe from when we first saw the warehouse looming in center field. We remember the hope that a new beginning provides to a baseball fan.

As I watch this year’s version of the Orioles (probably) stumble their way through Opening Day on Friday, I’ll probably think back to Phil Connors and his wistful memories of the day he’d rather have the one he has in front of him.

Book Review: Moneyball

brian — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 13:23:05 +0000

Before I get to my thoughts on this book which took me far too long to add to my reading stack, I want to talk about how awesome it is to get books for Christmas. I walked away with six things to read. That should, unfortunately, hold me through Easter at least. I wish I could read faster because I bought one interesting book after Christmas and have found a couple of more since.

One of the best parts of my Christmas bounty belies my support of local businesses, but is still really cool. My wife got me three books for my Kindle, but took advantage of the program which allows someone to purchase them as a gift and not show on on the device until Christmas Day. She gave me a note telling me about this, I went to my e-mail and clicked a button to download each book. Very cool.

I do wish it were a little more seamless – yeah, this is me complaining about the magic of books appearing on a wireless electronic device – so they just appeared the next time I turned on my wireless, but it’s not a big deal. I still try to support local bookstores and libraries when I can, but this experience was pretty fun.

One of those Kindle books was Moneyball, something I had talked about reading a bunch of times, but never got around to it. I had hoped to read it at the beach last summer, but the library didn’t have any copies available for the week I traveled. My nephew brought his copy, but I was already buried in my stack of books and didn’t pick up Michael Lewis’ book .

When I saw the movie recently, I knew I needed to change this. Luckily, my wife pays attention to me when I talk about things like this. When I tried to choose which book I would tackle first, I knew I had to knock this off my list once and for all. What a great decision.

I really get into the analytic aspect of sports. This comes from hours upon hours of playing Strat-o-Matic sports and trying to figure things out. While I generally loathe sports talk, I do enjoy the bits I can find where the announcers really examine what happens on the field instead of just yelling.

So I can relate to the quest Billy Beane and Paul Depodesta went on to find a better way of evaluating players. As someone who has, during my days as a reporter, suffered the glare of pro athletes because they think you’re not worthy to ask them certain questions, I can understand the motivation “outsiders” have when they want to prove the establishment wrong. As someone who watched the way Earl Weaver managed growing up, I wondered why more people didn’t choose their own path.

The book did a great job getting into the details of how and why the whole “moneyball” approach came about and actually worked. It also showed how dangerous emotion can be in athletic decisions, something we have known forever but don’t heed often enough. This sounds silly now, but it’s easy to see why this book had such a huge impact. Not only did it cut to the heart of many of baseball’s problems, but Lewis wrote it in such an engaging and readable style that people had to pay attention.

Unless you’re an idiot like Joe Morgan or stubborn fool like Peter Angelos.

The Oakland A’s may have not won a World Series in the early days of Beane’s strategy, but his outlook undeniably changed baseball. His critics point to Oakland’s declining success since the early 2000s, but a lot of that is because other teams have caught on and the market correction made it harder for the A’s to get the bargains they wanted.

Just take a look at the way Beane analyzed the 2002 amateur draft, a topic the book covers in great detail (and was understandably lost in the movie version). Maybe he just got lucky, but his perfect 20 and resulting picks have an amazing success rate. Jeremy Brown, the primary poster child for the strategy, may not have made an impact at the major league level, but he did continue to get on base at a pretty solid rate in the minors. He just didn’t seem to adjust as the pitching got better, but the things Beane and Depodesta saw in the big guy certainly did play out.

Billy Beane never professed to get everything right. He just said that other people who said they got things right may not see the whole picture. Since most people have started to adopt his approach in some way or another, their criticisms of how he did it don’t carry much weight with me. I just hope the next time someone writes a groundbreaking book about how someone has changed an entire sport, I don’t wait eight years to get in on the action.

Money Shot

brian — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 14:28:03 +0000

I generally don’t pay attention to the Academy Awards, especially the minor awards for very technical things. I don’t know cinematography from candy so don’t feel qualified to really understand if the right person won most categories.

But I will pay very close attention to the sound categories next year when the awards go out because the folks who made “Moneyball” better get some serious consideration for how they used sound … or the lack of it … to help create the narrative in this outstanding movie.

We ended up seeing the movie near the end of its theatrical run. I have never read the book, but am familiar with the story and wanted to see how they translated it to the big screen. The writers did a wonderful job creating a character study of Billy Beane even if they did have to bend some truths to get there. By now, we all need to just accept that movies won’t always capture reality if we want them to entertain us.

Besides crafting a narrative which engaged people regardless of their interest in balls, strikes, WHIP or WAR, they took a line from Beane (I’d love to know if it’s really something he said) about the sound of losing and turned that notion almost into a vital character in the story. Silence represented the sound of losing for the talkative Beane and injecting long periods of silence into a movie can truly jar the viewer.

That’s why they deserve an Oscar for finding the right places for this trick and not beating it to death. They took what is an almost cliched comment from a competitor and turned it into a very effective narrative device.

The movie didn’t just get me with the sound issue, however. The performances of Brad Pitt and Chris Pratt led the way for an outstanding cast. They stood out for me even though I thought pretty much everyone did a really nice job. I know Art Howe is not happy with how he was portrayed by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, but I think most people who follow baseball can accept that a manager might just be a cantankerous codger. From what I read, it was not much different than the way he was portrayed in the book so it’s not like they created his crankiness out of nowhere.

Besides the cast and the use of sound, I also appreciated how they didn’t end the story with Oakland’s playoff loss. They took it through Boston’s attempts to sign Beane and his decision to stay in Oakland. That shows how, despite some stretching of the truth (and ignoring the importance of the A’s pitching staff in their success), the writers and producers understood this was about more than a few decisions made by the front office of one team in one season.

Some people will say that the Moneyball concept has not revolutionized baseball since Beane’s teams never won a World Series, but it’s hard to deny that the ideas have given a lot of people pause about how to evaluate players. Maybe Beane (and the many others not depicted in the movies who espoused the Bill James philosophy prior to the Oakland story – Beane didn’t invent this stuff) haven’t pushed the old school completely out of the game, but they certainly have started a new debate within the game, which is good for everyone. People who are more into it will probably have more to say about it, but I just know that the topic seems to have revived interest in at least arguing about baseball.

Besides, you know the coach in the movie who argued Scott Hatteberg would have trouble playing first base? That’s Ron Washington. He now manages the Texas Rangers, who have been to the World Series the last two seasons. Washington likes Beane and credits him for giving Washington a chance as a coach, which led to his managerial success. But Washington is not a big proponent of Beane’s philosophy. The battle within baseball continues. That’s why this movie succeeded.

Opening Day Musings

brian — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 13:18:07 +0000

Once upon a time, I worshiped this day. My parents would get me out of school on Opening Day so I could head down to 33rd Street – just a few blocks from my current office – and watch the Orioles open the baseball season. Baltimore always opened at home, and I pretty much always went.

Over time, Opening Day and baseball in general have diminished in importance in my life. I still play in a fantasy baseball league, but enjoy the social aspect more than following the sport. It’s no surprise why I finish in the middle to bottom of the pack each year.

A lot of things have influenced this change in my life over the past 10-15years. I still followed the Orioles closely in the late 1990s when they had some pretty good teams. I covered the team off and on for the paper in Hanover where I worked until 1998.

But then we had a kid. And I started a day job which required a long commute. And Peter Angelos started running the Orioles with the same skill I ran my fantasy league team. There was a strike. Bud Selig took over the league. Soccer slowly crept into my life.

I didn’t walk away from baseball and move towards soccer as some sort of protest. I had followed MLS in the late 1990s, but not as crazily as I did in the beginning of the next decade. I found lots of ways to follow soccer on the Internet and met lots of great friends that way. Little by little, baseball receded into the background.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I enjoyed seeing the Orioles gain some measure of success last year. I do try my best to put together a strong team in my fantasy league even if I don’t have the time or interest to obsess over potential players. The sport had too much of a hold on me in my youth for me to walk away completely.

So Opening Day may not mean the same thing it did when I was 11, and I watched the Birds begin their march to the World Series with a 5-3 win over the White Sox. At least I think I went to that game. On Opening Day, facts don’t always matter because a new season is built for boasts and exaggerations. That’s why I have a some hope that the O’s will actually contend and I might threaten for my first fantasy league title in almost 20 years in this league.

Play Ball!

Poor Steve Wynn

brian — Sun, 30 May 2010 13:39:19 +0000

I feel bad for Steve Wynn. Not the casino mogul, but the musician.

Wynn led a band called Dream Syndicate in the 1980s and has carved out a nice solo career over the past two decades. My real familiarity with him comes from The Baseball Project, a recent endeavor with Peter Buck from R.E.M. and Scott McCaughey, who has served as R.E.M.’s side man for the past few albums and tours.

The group, has a bunch of fun baseball-themed songs covering topics such as steroids, the role of the closer, Ted Williams’ brashness and more. My personal favorite is “Harvey Haddix,” an ode to the pitcher who threw 12 perfect innings in 1959 only to lose the gem in the 13th inning. Major League Baseball does not classify this as a perfect game, taking it off the list in 1991.

The lyrics both recount the spectacular feat, urge for Haddix’s name to return to the list and tick off everyone who has thrown a perfect game in baseball’s modern era. The catalog of the 17 names on the list fascinated me. Then something happened last year. Mark Buehrle of the Chicago White Sox added his name to the list, forcing Wynn and the band to slightly alter the song.

Three weeks ago, Dallas Braden of Oakland made himself the 19th player to accomplish the feat. Wynn had more work ahead of him, but pulled it off for this performance on May 22.

Then Roy Halladay went and screwed things up even more with a perfect game yesterday. Not only does Wynn have to add yet another name to “Harvey Haddix,” but the band released an ode to Halladay and the possibility of him winning 30 games this season. You can (safely) download the song here. Better do it before they have to do a new version of that too.

The band, which only plays together on occasion, had a set of dates over the weekend. I can’t wait to see if an even newer version hits YouTube soon.

ITEOTWAWKI: Happy Birthday, Peter

brian — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 16:39:39 +0000

I totally spaced on Peter Buck’s birthday earlier this week. I don’t really pay attention to their birthdays that much, but remembered that two of them were very close . I can just never remember which two and when it happens.

Peter is the player and creator of so many memorable guitar lines, the most awesome jumping guitar player I have ever seen, the bard of liner notes and the guy who probably single-handedly saved R.E.M. with his insistence that they return to their roots with the fast-paced Accelerate in 2008.

So let’s share some of my favorite Peter Buck videos.

Peter fucking up “Rockville” at the 2008 show I saw, just down the road from Rockville, Md.

Peter handling interview duties for the band on their Letterman debut with the honesty and wit he always brings to the table.

One of my favorites because of its simplicity and how it kind of defines Peter’s playing style. Often called the first ‘real song” the band ever wrote. I love that they did it for the Hall of Fame induction.

And Peter in one of his many side projects, this time playing bass for The Baseball Project.

ITEOTWAWKI: Crushed

brian — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 18:46:09 +0000

I usually like to know all the facts. I don’t like to believe in myths or legends. I want cold, hard facts.

In the case of former major league pitcher “Black” Jack McDowell and The Baseball Project‘s song “The Yankee Flipper,” I wish I had stayed ignorant.

A quick summary: the song chronicles a night of drinking with McDowell, Mike Mills, Smithereens drummer Dennis Diken and Scott McCaughey, who provides lead vocals for the song. The night of partying allegedly preceded McDowell giving a full Yankee Stadium the finger after a poor performance.

One one of those days where I just got a little too excited about reading up on new information, I found a blog McDowell does for a Chicago newspaper. One entry is called “Ask Black Jack.” He confirms the night of drinking happened after R.E.M. played at Madison Square Garden in June 1995, but implies that its connection to the Yankee Flipper incident isn’t quite so true.

So I looked up his Wikipedia page and discovered that he flipped off the crowd on July 18, 1995. The band had a break from touring at the time because Mills had his appendix out. There’s no way the drinking could have caused the finger.

I don’t know if I can go on.