06 May 2010, by Ted
I enjoy it when retired pitchers turned broadcasters in expensive ties grab a baseball that some intern had to scare up for them and demonstrate how to throw a cutter or a circle change. The starched cuff of a fine dress shirt, a little bling on the fingers and slow demonstrative arm gestures remind me of Little League, when the dad who was also a lawyer would pull up in his beamer and teach the kids a thing or two before heading off to the steakhouse to make deals.
My dad never worked nine-to-five, so I suppose there was something mysterious about these well-dressed, clean-shaven dads. I didn't envy them. In fact from the beginning I thought it was tacky to put a glove on and toss it around in business clothes. It didn't feel right. I didn't appreciate, at the time, the tightening noose of time that each day presents.
But I digress. The reason I brought it up is because FackYouk has an awesome dramatization of an Al Leiter broadcast booth demonstration. What he is demonstrating, I have no idea. I do know that is is Magic®.
via a Reader share from WalkOffWalk
05 May 2010, by Eric
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="191" caption="Evan Longoria probably just fungoed a ball to some desirous fans in the third deck. "]
[/caption]
I was lucky to sit behind home plate at last night's Rays-Mariners game in Seattle. It was freezing. And aside from the cringing and the averting my eyes with each successive backwards K for Milton Bradley and sad, flailing swing by Ken Griffey Jr, my evening of baseball was perfectly pleasant. This despite the fact that nobody attends Safeco Field on weeknights, and despite the fact that the Mariners committed 4 errors (2 in the first inning, when Ichiro also got picked off first base).
The reason I was lucky to sit behind home plate at last night's game was that it offered me my first chance to watch Evan Longoria in person. I watched him play catch along the edge of the dugout with some unnamed Ray. I watched him step into the batter's box with the same off-handedness one might step to the cashier at a grocery store, or the teller at a bank. He doesn't have a stance, per se. He just rocks gently --never achieving any kind of stillness-- and times the explosion of his swing with languid perfection. I don't think Safeco has seen a prettier right-handed home run swing since the last days of Edgar Martinez.
Aside from the homer, Longoria walked and singled twice. Maybe it was the crowd of 700's fault, but his was the quietest 3-4 Hr, BB night I can remember. It was not a quiet night for the two Rays fans -- a couple, both in their mid-20s -- seated about ten rows below us, so about ten rows from the field. They wore matching Longoria #3 tee-shirts. Before the game began, when Longoria was done playing catch with his nameless distant partner, he turned toward our section. The guy in the Longoria shirt stood up. Longoria threw a ball toward him -- and missed (okay, so he's not entirely Joe Mauer). Then he disappeared briefly into the Rays dugout.
Moments later, Longoria reappeared with a new baseball in hand. He stood there on the edge of the field, and stared up at the Rays fans in our section. It took a solid 2 minutes before the surrounding Safeco fans awoke the attention of theRays fan who stood up, probably grinning. Judging from Longoria's own grin and nod, the two made some kind of eye contact. And with admirable calm, the fan received this second baseball from his shirt-sake, yelled his thanks, and stared at it with wonder.
Then, of course, came the home run -- a line drive shot into left center -- and the singles and the walk. America, welcome to Evan Longoria.
03 May 2010, by Eric
Along with three friends, I am coaching a Little League team of seven, eight, and nine year olds. All four of us are in our early twenties. Needless to say, we are the only coaches in the league without kids of our own. Our goal? Utter domination. Throughout the season I will keep Pitchers & Poets readers updated on the goings on surrounding the team.
It's trendy right now to whine about the length of major league baseball games. I can assure you the people who make those complaints do not coach little league teams. If they did, they would marvel at how the Yankees and Red Sox are able to play nine entire innings in just three and a half hours. They would wonder how a game, taking into account warmups and bullpens and commercial breaks, is ever actually finished.
The Killer Bees, for example, played an epic game this weekend. It was a see-saw battle against the rival Beekeepers. It saw blood and tears (more tears). It saw real defense. It saw throws accurately made, and then caught. It saw a play at home plate (on a sacrifice fly!). It saw lead changes each half-inning. In the end, despite a late comeback, the Killer Bees found themselves down 8-7 to the Beekeepers when the game was called because we had played our allotted two hours. It was the fourth inning.
It was a tremendously exciting game in chilly, slightly drizzly weather. The parents were on the edges of their lawn chairs and bleachers. The kids were up against the fence screaming their one, extremely obnoxious cheer through the chain links. Young John Kruk, who normally asks for the time twice every inning --aware that the game will finally end for him at three -- only asked once. And I won't lie, even the coaches were competitive. Our word of the day was not focus, or defense, or aggressiveness. Rather, it was victory. And because in Little League, the moral victory is a very real thing, the Killer Bees achieved their goal.
On that note, I'd like to take some time to introduce the team. Coach Kenneth (an occasional PnP contributor), has compiled some stats for us as well. Here are some notes on the roster (aliases in effect, of course) and the players' wOBA's through 5 games. This does not include our most recent matchup, so stats are a bit on the low side, especially for Frank Thomas, who absolutely crushed a double early on, and Darin Erstad who collected some clutch runs batted in.
If you are interested in more detailed statistics, Kenneth will be happy to answer all questions in the comments.
29 Apr 2010, by Ted
In this episode, we call out pitchers calling out hitters, debate Barry Zito's hipster factor and remind most of you that you are tired of talking about the AL East.
Plus, all you Zune owners can now download the mp3.
[podcast]http://www.roguesbaseballindex.com/pnp_podcasts/PnP_008.mp3[/podcast]
Save Link As to Download
27 Apr 2010, by Ted
ESPN took a break from its coverage of the NFL draft to acknowledge the National Pastime in Silly Little Game, a part of its 30 for 30 series of films. Silly Little Game is a documentary about the founding parents of Rotisserie baseball. The story is re-told through the magic of interviews with scions and gauzy reenactments.
Both Eric and I are on the heels of reading and discussing Fantasyland, a book about fantasy baseball from ancient times through this very second, so this recent renaissance of the history of Rotisserie just seems to keep going and going.
I'm not totally up on the public's view of the 30 for 30 series, except for the occasional bout of extreme praise that I've heard here and there. I'm not much for college sports or Al Davis stories, so I haven't made a solid effort to watch any of them until Silly Little Game predictably caught my eye. I consider it a success when long form storytelling makes it into the popular culture.
The production value of Silly Little Game is a few notches above the typical Behind the Lines or whatever crappy Fox Sports docudrama of the week that they used to show after I got home from baseball practice. The goofy, improvisational dialogue and fast and loose historical reenactment style definitely owes something to the drowsy recreations of Drunk History. And I am surprised at how funny this film actually is. I haven't--since the days of Olbermann and Patrick riffing on highlights on Sportscenter--associated ESPN with laughter.
The many interviews with the founding fathers and mother are the highlight, though. Dan Okrent and his compadres reminisce about the first draft, the unanticipated obsessions that developed around Rotisserie baseball, and the labor involved in gathering statistics. They are joyous reminisces, too, which for some reason the film decided unnecessarily to sour by including the subsequent failure to monetize the game. I'd have been happier with the narrower story scope, and Okrent himself admits near the end--refreshingly--that it was probably better off that they made no money, as they had only started out to have fun.
The film not only tells the story of the first Rotisserie season, but it also addresses the challenge of visualizing fantasy baseball in a creative way. Floating numbers and actors playing Bill Buckner and random relief pitchers, and the film gleefully cheesifies the mental life of a Rotisseries baseball addict. A little self-consciousness can go a long way, and it separates this cheerfully schlocky dramatization from, say, an episode of Rescue 911. Directors Adam Kurland and Lucas Jansen don't truly believe that a mad rotiserrieman spun madly at his gyrating poultry as Dan Okrent narrated the nascent rules of the game that would rule the world, but it makes for good documentary.
I'm a sucker for nostalgic gatherings of intellectual types, so this is all right up my alley and I could listen to these folks tell stories all day long.