I just have to go away and dream it all up again

Yes, I've been neglecting my duties as a faithful servant of the great religion of baseball. The truth is, suddenly, as if seven years of losing caught up with me all at once, I've had a sort of decrease in interest. I did watch the All Star debacle, all five hundred and fifty-five hours of it, and I felt a twinge of excitement when I saw potential 20 game winner Voltron on the mound (wood, where are you?) Despite his failure to protect the National League, I was proud of him. Can you imagine how he'll feel on Sunday, getting to pitch against his childhood idol Pedro Martinez? Proof that dreams do come true. Sometimes I need a reminder that they can.

I've been catching up on all the reading I missed during my woefully inadequate public education, all the reading that either Bible thumpers or outraged parents or lazy administrators failed to teach me about, and I was in the AP classes! I can't imagine what it was like in the what is termed college prep or below. Boy, are our public schools pretty worthless. I think they exist to make us all into mindless drones who will be content to sit in gray, suffocating cubicles and tasked to sell bolts to some Chinese defense contractor or to buy wholesale cheap plastic junk from said China to sell in characterless leviathan stores that have swallowed the economies of entire towns. The more I think about it, the more I marvel that I was able to read a book like Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man as a senior in high school, that I was allowed to read it. James Joyce - the spawn of Satan! Then again, I had as an English teacher one of the throwbacks to a time when thought actually mattered, he and my senior Government teacher and my sophomore World History teacher. These people actually had profound influences on my life that I am just coming to realize fifteen years removed from secondary education. So, Mr. Stephen, Mr. Weadock, and Dr. Ross, if you come across my blog in some random chance over the course of infinite universe expansion, thanks.

I wrote a nice little post about the All-Star game, but I wrote it in my head and failed to remember much of it, even the point of it, really. It was something of a lamentation for the days when baseball kind of meant something to America in the way that it means something to those few of us who still marvel at the game's beauty, its poetry. I look around and see empty playgrounds and yards and sometimes find it difficult to believe their are actually children living in this country. Used to be kids played stickball when there wasn't proper equipment. Now they Playstation their baseball, if baseball is even involved, if it isn't deemed "too boring" to pass for a pastime. I must be an incarnation of some long gone New York Giants fan who died of a broken heart when they left for California. I know it was the Giants because of the hatred I feel for the Dodgers in my current incarnation as a moody 31 year old woman who wants more than anything to be drinking a Leffe Blonde on the Grote Markt in Leuven, Belgium right at this moment.

I think the decline and fall of the Major League empire began with California baseball. Sure, Californians love and deserve baseball teams, but expansion - not transmigration of the soul - should have blessed them with franchises. Just think of all that happened after that. I mean, the DH, for one. Free agency. Two strikes that kept the Reds out of the playoffs when they were probably the best teams in baseball. Greenies in the seventies, cocaine in the eighties, steroids in the nineties, corporate rape in the whatever this decade is called. Tearing down Yankee Stadium. Yeah, there was something about that in the post I wrote in my head. I wanted to cry at the end of that game. It was like the baseball gods were trying to make that game last forever because it was the final time an assemblage of All-Stars would take the field there, at least an assemblage of All-Stars who don't wear the same pinstriped uniform. But our National Disgrace had to go and ruin it with the threat of a tie that he created back in 2002.

A piece of me kind of died during that game. A piece of America died.

The worst part about it all is that most people don't care. They just shrug it off as another one of life's sucky tragedies. Not even tragedy. Just a happening, like a picnic in a park. Do people even take picnics anymore? I mean aside from on the Fourth of July and Memorial Day and days like those? They don't care because well, the earth's axis is located in their living rooms or something. Right next to the plasma screen television.

I always admired the people in Boston, because they do care. They saved their park. But you know, Boston has given us so many great patriots that it seemed like just another great chapter in the great history of Beantown. Maybe they have better schools up there, schools that don't produce mindless drones that cause people to submit to rampant corporatism. Hell, I don't know. I've only been there once. It was pre-2004 so the fandom there was still genuine.

Anyway, so that's what I have to say about that. Disillusionment, you know. A sort of curse of the thinking class. Now I'm going to go have a beer and be annoyed by Jim Day on Reds live while trying to read John Dos Passos' USA. That's one of those books we never read in English classes. God forbid we touch the socialists! How evil! People who think that society is better off when we're not hiding behind our picket fences with loaded guns ready for the boogeyman who dares try to steal our DVDs! Run away! Run away!

If I post nothing this weekend, I'll be back next week sometime. In the meantime, Go Reds! We're only what, 7 games back in the Wild Card race? Only 5 teams ahead of us in the race, including the Mets, who we play four games this weekend? As they say, we ain't done yet!

Dusty Baker - L

Lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty lefty righty

Homer should have never come out of that game.

Reds second half surge?

By the pricking of my thumbs

It was a little fun, wasn't it? Just when I have myself believing that I am done with baseball for the year, that I cannot take any more disappointment, the Reds have to go out and get a four game sweep to move within four games of .500. Irrationality strikes again as we go into a six game road trip against the Chub$ and the Sausages. Time to gain a few games in the standings and climb back into the race. A sprinkle of luck and a dash of hope, double, triple, toil and trouble, Chubbie$ burn and Sausages bubble! The Wild Card looks like it will come from the NL Central this year, so hey, who knows?

Don't get your hopes up, though. Besides, the sweep was against the worst team in baseball. Still, to sweep, perchance to dream.

I'm going to the Dragons game tonight. They've been pretty awful for the last month or two, but hey, it's Reds baseball, Version A.0.

I can't watch

I didn't bother to watch the end of the game last night. I was so disgusted I turned it off. Losing two of three to the Pirates, wasting two home runs by Jay Bruce, having Corey Patterson still on the team, Josh Fogg wants to move back into the rotation, losing Gonzalez for the season, I just can't do this anymore.

I'm happy to see that the Rays completed a sweep of the Green $ox. Now there's a team that knows what it's doing, and a fun team to watch, too. And can you believe it? People are starting to show up at Rays games.

Now here's a good idea. Not the cowbells. The giving a promotion away only to those who don the team gear.

But the cowbells were only given to fans wearing Rays gear, a point that helped band together the faithful and elicit a sense of pride.

I'm jealous of "Raysmania." I look at the Reds and see the good young talent, but I'm tired of waiting for the future.

I'm not upset that Thompson gave up 7 runs. I'm upset that Affeldt and Bray gave up two more. I'm upset that the team didn't hit, that without Bruce's two homers and Dunn's one, there was no offense. Again. I'm upset that Ken Griffey, Jr. continues to bat third in the lineup. I'm upset that only the worst place Washington Nationals have a poorer hitting team. I'm upset that an offense that has been pretty good over the last several years was fixed so now it's broken because of some old school obsession with strikeouts. Yeah, great, we've cut down on team strikeouts. We've also cut down on HITS! And that small ball crap? We're third in baseball in caught stealings. When we do manage to get runners on, they just get thrown out on the basepaths!

I'm tired of it all. Fed up. I have nothing to write about any more. Baseball has ceased being fun for me.

"We played some good games with these guys, but the bottom line is you've got to win," Bruce said. "Good games don't count as wins."

Amen.

Press One for Baseball, Two for...

I lost my cell phone about six weeks ago - I think it was at a Reds game. I wasn't too upset - it was a cheap phone with a pay as you go plan. I'm not a big phone person. I'd much rather be sitting across a table from someone drinking beers and having awesome conversations about life than talking into a little mechanical device where you don't get one hundred percent of communication, where you're missing the facial expressions, the hand gestures, the body movement. That's as much a part of communication as the words, maybe more, because words can lie, but unless you're a world renown poker player, your expressions and your gestures can give you away. Besides, I find it difficult to concentrate on what someone is saying over the phone because there are so many distractions.

I spent two years of my life without a phone. Not just a cell phone. No land line either. I had run up my cell phone bill due to what turned out not to be included text messaging to an outrageous amount and canceled my service because of what I felt was deception. I didn't bother to get another phone and I had a laptop for wifi, so I communicated by email. I tell you what, it was funny watching people try to deal with a person who had no phone. My favorite memory was when I was late to a Nats game due to a meeting at work (sometimes people call those happy hours). It was a giveaway night, and my friend Stephen didn't want to miss the promotion, so he went inside. Being used to my lack of phone, he waited for me at the food court that hangs over the main gate at RFK. When I arrived, he dropped my ticket to me. That's what people did before cell phones. I think there was a lot more thinking going on back then.

I didn't miss the first pitch or my promotion, and I still managed to meet up with him. Another time I was late I found him seated at the stadium. I used my legs and walked around looking for him. I suppose it's easier when you're only getting 20K on a good day, but I was able to use my sense of reason to overcome the lack of a phone.

That being said, it was tough to live in 2005 and 2006 without a phone. I finally broke down and got one, but I didn't get anything fancy because I knew I just wouldn't use it enough. I say "I'll meet you there" and meet someone there. It's quite a simple concept actually. Still, it is nice to say you're running late or something like that. I'm not anti-technology - I mean, I run a website fore Pete's sake.

So I lost my phone about six weeks ago and figured I'd have to pay full price for a new one and the area code would be 937 instead of Washington's 202, where I plan to go back to anyway, and I just didn't bother with getting another one, I thought I'd just wait until I got back to DC. Only my Reds fan friend Clark asked me if I'd gotten another one yet since we are probably going to meet up this weekend at GAB(p), and I thought, you know, I really should check to see if I can order a new phone. Funny thing about how I met Clark. Last year when the Reds came to DC for that terrible sweep (oh, the agony), I had four tickets to the first game and only three people to use them, so I sold one to a scalper. Clark, a Reds fan, bought the ticket from the scalper.

Anyway, so I find out today I can get a free replacement phone if I pay the shipping costs. I can even order it online. First, I had to suspend my account. Nobody's used the old phone because my account balance is still there, probably because the battery was about dead when I lost it (hence the reason a good samaritan couldn't call me to say he'd found it. At least that's what I choose to believe.) I order the phone, type in all of my information, and hit send. I get, we can't process your order now, call 1-800-blahblah. I find that quite irritating, but I make the call.

I am still suffering the after affects of the ordeal. I am emotionally drained. We all know the frustration a customer "service" call can bring. I call, and get a somewhat pleasant but kind of abrasive voice on the line - a recorded voice. I think her name is Simone. She tells me to say English for English, so I say English. Then she gives me a host of options to say. I hate those stupid voice systems. Why can't I just press a button? I have a generic American accent, not some nasally old twang you can find in the Midwest, yet I always seem to have problems with those systems. Didn't matter though, because they didn't have my option. They also didn't have an option for talking to a live person. I pressed 0 and Simone says, I know you want to talk to a live person, but I need to know what you're wanting to talk about. Say blah for blah, blah for blah, etc. I tried to say talk to someone. Talk to a live person. Talk to a customer service representative. Simone told me she didn't understand. Then she asks a question and tells me to say yes or no. I scream No. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand the word no? She asks me something different. I scream No.

At this point, I've been on the phone for about twenty minutes trying to figure out what option I should say to take me to a live person. I continue to press 0, which only brings more questions from Simone. Now I'm starting to cuss a little. Ok, a lot. Screaming, actually. I want to talk to a live person! I want to talk to a live person! With some words in between those.

Finally, I hung up. I tried again. Same deal. So I go online to try to find a different number. I google Virgin Mobile lost phone. A different number comes up. I call it. I get a live person very easily. I talk to him, tell him my frustration, tell him I just want to order a new phone and it wouldn't let me do it online. Then he asks me what province I live in.

I thought it strange, but since my number is DC, I said DC. He thought for a minute, then said, oh, you're in the States. He was quite nice about informing me I had called the Canada line. Very nice, actually. Then he proceeds to give me Simone's number.

I finally decided to just make answers up and if I ever got a live voice, she could transfer me to the appropriate department. I got someone, some bimbo with no personality and a strange inability to write down numbers as you spoke them to her. She wasn't nice. She wasn't nasty, either, just sort of there, a voice on the phone.

Oh well, I ordered a new phone. Should be here in two days if she wrote down the numbers correctly.

Road trip - Sunday's game

Sunday was Slider's birthday at The Jake. They gave away Slider hats to kids 14 and under. I tried to get the guy at the gate to give me one, but he just laughed. Everyone was really nice. The guys at the merchandise stand where I went to buy an interleague ball (I collect balls from various stadium and events I attend) remembered me on Sunday when I couldn't resist buying a pack of 2008 Topps cards. Even though I no longer collect baseball cards like I once did, I still pick up a pack every now and then. As I stood at the cash register, I remembered why I stopped buying them. For ten cards, I had to pay $4. No wonder kids don't collect baseball cards anymore. I got Alex Rodriguez and Andruw Jones and Tony LaMafia and Jermaine Dye, Jason Isringhausen, some dumb league leaders card, some dumb this guy did something on this date card, and I can't remember the other three. They never put any Reds into the packs do they? Last year I bought a pack and got Jerry Narron. I thought about sticking voodoo pins in it, or at least taping a picture of a brain onto it. But we got Pete Mackanin and all was pretty good for awhile. Those pics of him sitting watching the Reds as a scout last week sent a little flutter through my heart. I couldn't help thinking what if he were the manager this year?

Sunday's game was pretty fun, though the weather was weird. At one point the rain came down and drenched everything in site for about a minute and that was it. There wasn't really any time to think about putting the tarp on the field. We were lucky because we were sitting under the restaurant and didn't have to move, but the scene of everyone rushing to leave was pretty funny, especially since by the time they got to shelter, they were soaked and the rain had stopped.

Bronson still didn't have his best stuff but the Indians were missing everything so it was A-OK. I really hope the Reds don't trade him. He'll be a great number five pitcher when Thompson and Cueto get their youthful jitters out and Harang rights the ship. He has personality, you know? He gives a face to the team. It's dangerous when you become attached to individual players in this day and age, because you'll just have your heart broken when they leave, but I can't help it.

I love Edwin Encarnacion, too. I was pumped to see him hit one out.

I just loved the photo of the kids in the hats, and I love that a kid is wearing a Dunn jersey in it. Smart kid. Sign Dunn to a longterm contract!
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Baseballs soaring into the Cincinnati night

Hey, the Reds got the lead in Baseball Tonight even before the ten straight minutes about the Red $ox game.

Those kind of wins are the best. Send your heart soaring with delight.

Junior looked pissed while batting, pissed while circling the bases, pissed during the scrum at home plate, and pissed while doing a postgame interview. I wonder what was up.

We have Volquez going tonight after a bad outing. Let's take this win streak to four in a row! Maybe we can make this leap out of last place permanent.

Road trip - Saturday's game

There I was at The Jake seeing the Reds in their familiar gray uniforms. Over the last several years, I've seen them play on the road more than I have at home, so it looked pretty natural to me. It was upsetting to see Corey Patterson instead of Norris Hopper in the lineup, but at least Toothpick isn't batting him lead off anymore. Now that we have Hairston back, is there any reason Patterson should still be on this team? We don't need six people who can play outfield. It'll be hard enough to get Hairston in there with Edwin back, though in my opinion, it should be Dunn-Hairston-Bruce in the outfield since Griffey isn't hitting. But protocol dictates you don't bench a future Hall of Famer who is going to be starting the All-Star game, even if he is hitting .230 something.

I'm looking for a nice ten game win streak. Cueto started it all with a well-pitched game. He got into trouble a couple of times but wiggled out of it - seems to me that he's getting used to the big leagues. He had that one period of time where he struggled, but most of his last seven or eight starts were pretty good for a young pitcher. Better than Harang, right? I see Harang having a good second half. He has to, right? Right?

The Jake reminds me a lot of Camden Yards. Maybe it's the green seats and the trees in centerfield. Maybe it's just the American League park. Maybe it was the Oriole mascot tromping around the park on Sunday. (It was Slider's birthday, and some of his friends helped to celebrate.)

It's always nice to see a full stadium. These games weren't quite sellouts, but they were close. There were a lot of Reds fans there, too, so it didn't feel exactly like an away game.

It's nice to have a lot of offense, especially since the pen wasn't exactly stellar. Dunner's homer was a line drive - the only question was would it be high enough to clear the fence. When the Reds took a 4-0 lead, there was a noticeable difference in crowd noise.

Us Reds fans were happy though.


What a beautiful night it was.
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I tell you what - Cordero is having a heck of a year. I hope it isn't wasted. Remember, he signed a four year contract - we were supposed to compete this year. We can expect him to decline a little by the end of the contract, but we can hope he doesn't. Even though it wasn't a save situation, I was glad to see him in there. I caught this picture from my seat below the restaurant.

Victory!

Road trip

Over the rivers and through the woods to Jacob's Field we go.
The car knows the way to carry us through the rain and lightening oh.
Across the fields and through the plains the city stands on high.
The mistake by the lake was such a dump its river caught on fire!

I attended the Reds' two victories that secured a winning road trip and brought them to 9-6 on the season in interleague play. We're one of only three or four NL teams that have a .500 record in interleague play. Can you believe that? And to think we did it while having to play the Bankee$ and the Green $ox. Not bad at all. We seem to do better against the good teams. I hope that's not the case this week playing the Pirates and the Nationals. It would take a miracle to get back into the race, but hey, even though my head tells me we're through, there's still a part of me that believes a good July could put us five or six games back, which is not an insurmountable deficit. But a single winning road trip can do that for you, make you forget that terrible homestand you just had. Yet I know Harang can't pitch so poorly for the rest of the season, and Cueto seems to be getting used to the big leagues. Ach, stupid irrationality!

I love these series with Cleveland. There's such a huge area of mixed loyalties in the state of Ohio that us fans are all kind of used to each other, which makes for a great road trip. Contrary to what people who did not grow up Reds or Indians fans think, the revival of the Ohio Cup is fun. I remember that last Spring Training game back before interleague play when the two teams used to meet up in Cooper Stadium in Columbus. I suppose people from Ohio are a bit strange in their state loyalty, but as I've traveled and moved around enough, I've often found that people from Ohio who leave the state still tend to find each other. I'm sure if E$PN had played the bit where everyone in the stadium was singing O-H-I-O during Hang on Sloopy, they'd make fun of us for it. I don't think all Reds fans get the whole Ohio thing since many of them hail from Kentucky, Indiana, and West Virginia.

I know there are a lot of mixed emotions about interleague play, and this year is evidence of its detriment, as the Reds have played ONE series against a team in their division in the entire month of June, and only TWO series against NL Central teams in May. How the heck were they supposed to make up any ground by never playing within the division? Yet I love these Cleveland series and attended three of the six games (all wins!) I could go for cutting it down to one series against Cleveland a year and then two other series against AL teams. We'd only play teams like the Bankee$ and the Green $ox once in a blue moon, but isn't that better? While it generates beaucoup de bucks, it also isn't fair when a team plays the likes of the Royals or the Pirates or some perpetually losing team (like the Reds?)

The weather was strange all weekend. On Saturday it stopped raining a little before the gates opened and ended up being a pretty nice night. We stopped at the Thirsty Parrot before the game began and had a celebrity sighting. I still didn't drink the High Life, though I must admit, I like those commercials, especially the one where he goes into the luxury box and no one is paying attention to the game. That's exactly how I feel about people who use those boxes. And to think us common folk have to suffer torn down stadiums and higher ticket prices so those people can go to baseball games and not watch them.

The Indians weekend uniforms are nice. I'm a sucker for throwbacks and these are simply classic. Here, Grady models them for me. It took me awhile to get an answer about why they were wearing those uniforms. I thought perhaps they were just having a throwback night, but it turns out they wear them on weekends. They look even better with the high socks.

Seriously, Jimmy Haynes? Seriously? You can tell a lot about a person by the jersey he wears. This one screams "I think I'm cool! But I'm really a dork who tries too hard!" The guy thinks he's proving himself to be a "true fan" by wearing a semi-obscure jersey. To us diehards, though, that name reeks of a decimated farm system with zero pitching under old Leatherpants. Not something I want to remember. Jimmy Haynes? Seriously?

I was given applause by Indians fans when I pulled off all the Progressive stickers on the cupholders around me. There were many, many comments regarding the name change over the course of the weekend. Seems as if everyone calls it The Jake. I am taken back to Riverfront Stadium, which will always be Riverfront Stadium to most of us. Reds fans never really started to call it Cinergy. I just don't get it. These corporations are spending millions of dollars to have their name on a field, but that's not going to get anyone to buy their product. Who among us sees Progressive Field and thinks "I'm gonna have to check out their insurance?"

Check back for more photos and some commentary about the games later.
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Those were the days

I've been watching a lot of French movies lately because I am trying to sharpen my language skills. It's been awhile since I've used the language except to read - I was fortunate enough in my old job to use it in that way, and my nose is constantly in some French book. (The last one I read was 99 Francs (13.99 euros) by I'm sure it's out in English now - they're making a movie of it. I highly recommend it, especially if your heart breaks from excessive marketing.)

Anyway, I've been checking out French movies from the library, which has a surprisingly large collection of foreign movies, especially for an industrial town. Problem is, they aren't properly sorted by language, so when I do an online search for French films, anything with French comes up - French Kiss, French Connection, anything with Jean Reno in it even if it is a Hollywood movie. So I got this movie called Babette's Feast. It's Danish with a tiny bit of French in it. The French woman, Babette, learns to speak Danish very quickly and that's that.

Despite this, I enjoyed the film. A small town in the Jutland has a puritanical preacher who never lets his daughters marry. They grow up and grow old having never known anything but religion. By chance, a French opera singer comes to the town for a respite and falls for one of the daughters, but she would have none of it though she really wanted to. Years later, a woman appears at their door with a letter from the singer. He asks them to take her - Babette - in as a refuge from a war in France which has killed her husband and her son, so she becomes their maid.

For the 100th anniversary of their father's birth, the sisters plan a feast. Around that time, Babette learns she has won 10,000 francs in a French lottery. She begs the sisters to be able to cook a French feast for the anniversary dinner. Twelve puritans are to attend. She orders the food from France - a bunch of living things arrive, like a giant turtle for soup. The women freak out and think she's planning a witches feast. It starts to get funny around this time. They rush to the friends who will be attending the dinner and they all pray to God to lose their sense of taste for the meal. It doesn't happen. They all adore it and amends are made between friends, old loves, etc.

The sisters assume since Babette had won the money, she'd be returning to Paris. She couldn't, however. She'd spent the entire 10,000 francs on the feast. Turns out she was the head chef at one of the finest restaurants in Paris, where a dinner for 12 costs 10,000 francs.

It was a movie worth watching - if only for the pleasure of watching good food and drink being consumed. Which brings me to the wine. I bought a bottle of the Junior cav today. I'd gone into Kroger to get some Sam Adams and wandered over to the wine to see what was available from a chain grocery store in an industrial town. I never got very far, because my mind was distracted by baseball. On display in the very front were bottles of Junior and Homer, both cabernet savignons, and Larkin, a merlot.

I'm not expecting much from them. The bottles cost $13.99, but I'm sure much of the price is in the label. I'm willing to bet the wine is more akin to a $6.99 bottle. Now, there are some decent $6.99 Californian and Australian wines, so I'm hoping this will be one of them. I chose the Junior wine because I don't like merlot, but I'm going to have to get a bottle just to have the bottle. I'll get it last.

Ahh, Barry...those were the days.

Stay tuned for a full report...

Les Rouges

I watched a French movie yesterday called Z, directed by internationally acclaimed director Costa-Gavras. The film won two Oscars in 1969, including Best Foreign Film. The acting is bad in that sixties movie kind of way, and the "action" shots look fake. In one seen, a policeman pushes a club supposedly used in the murder of a Deputy too hard into the supposed murderer and you can see it bend. But most sixties movies were bad like that.

The film parallels the real life assassination of Gregorios Lambrakis, a Greek doctor and humanist whose murder led to a public scandal. I don't know much about anno domini Greek history, but I am constantly amazed that Greece didn't somehow descend into chaos sometime during the 20th century. It nearly did. Lambrakis was killed by some rightwing nutjobs who controlled the police forces and wanted a Christian theocracy led by a monarch. The killers were pardoned, while the judge who conducted the investigation and indicted some of the highest authorities in the land was sent to prison. Many of the witnesses and colleagues of Lambrakis had "accidents" and died soon after the affair. It always amuses and saddens me to see those who run around screaming about communists the loudest are equally as violent and evil as those about whom they profess their hatred.

Lambrakis became a martyr. His followers went around writing the letter Z, which, when pronounced the American way "zee," sounds close to the Greek zei, meaning "he lives."

I'm not gonna pull a Grande and make some comparison between watching a French language movie and playing in Canada, because the political sensitivities revolving around French speaking Canada and the English part are too great. Toronto is not Montreal, and a Quebecois would spit on someone who said so. No, the movie reminded me of The Reds because they kept saying Les Rouges. I'd laugh and then think back to the whole stupidity of the McCarthy era when the Cincinnati Reds had to change their name because of some rightwing nutjob akin to those who killed Lambrakis. I shouldn't laugh. A lot of lives were ruined. But it all just seems so ridiculous, like it couldn't really have happened.

Dunn's batting second! Yay! Finally!

1976 Reds > 1927 Yankees

I woke up with a song in my head this morning. I do that quite often, but most of the time, they're songs that I like. This morning, for no reason I can fathom, Ebony and Ivory was in my head. Yeah, the Paul McCartney/Michael Jackson song. No, I don't know why it was in my head. I wish it weren't.

It seems strange to me that such a song had to exist, not because it's so awful, but because of its subject matter. Since I escaped the middle of the country a decade ago, I've been to many places and met enough people to think the racial problems that have plagued our nation's history are in the past, like they are just part of a Stephen King novel, left for our nightmares.

Alas, that is not the case. Yes, we have made progress, and many of the more educated and traveled folk of my generation have reached a point where race doesn't matter except in being part of someone's identity. But in many parts of the country, well, suffice it to say that racism is a part of the daily existence. How sad. How backwards.

Which brings me to baseball. All weekend, people were thinking about which team was better - the 1927 Yankees or the 1976 Reds. The '27 Yankees played before segregation. The '76 Reds ran out Joe Morgan, Ken Griffey, George Foster, Cesar Geronimo, Tony Perez, Dave Concepcion, and Dan Driessen to sweep the Yankees in the World Series.

Imagine if the '27 Yankees had had to play the likes of Cool Papa Bell, Buck Leonard, Mules Suttles, Fats Jenkins, Turkey Sterns, Oscar Charleston, Willie Wells, Bullet Joe Rogan, a young Satchel Paige, Smoky Joe Williams, or Bill Foster, among many others. Would the Yankees have had five starters with at least 10 wins, three of them with at least 18 (plus their closer, who had 19 wins. No, that's not a typo.)? Would the team have had a .307/.381/.489 team batting line? Would Babe Ruth have hit 60 homeruns if he had had to face Bullet Joe Rogan or Smoky Joe Williams?

It's pretty tough to compare eras. The '27 Yankees and the '76 Reds played at very different times. The '27 Yanks wound up with 6 Hall of Famers: Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig (take a look at his stats - they always leave me in awe), Earl Combes, Tony Lazzari, Waite Hoyt, and Herb Pennock. The '76 Reds had 3 Hall of Famers, plus Pete Rose and Davey Concepcion, both of whom SHOULD be in the Hall. But I'd have to say the competition was much tougher in 1976 than in was in 1927, thanks to integration. Edge = Reds.

I'm so proud of baseball for playing such a vital role in the advancement of human rights. It's just one of the many things to love about this game.
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Say hello to the Bambino

Poor Gonzalez, poor Keppinger, poor Hairston, poor Cabrera, they finally got a chance to play...Paul Janish, beware!

Something strange came over me as I watched the Reds play in Yankee Stadium last night. It was a feeling I had when at GAB(p) last Friday, too. I was in awe. I couldn't believe it. The Reds were playing the Yankees and Red Sox.

I don't know if it's the hyper-focus by the national media that made me think "OMG, we're playing real teams!" or if I've always had a sense of awe about them, but I felt somewhat ashamed within the confines of my living room as I let myself be taken in by the thrill of the New York Yankees as they fell to defeat by my beloved Reds. Woo!

I certainly felt something different when I went to Fenway in 2003 (to see the Yanks play) or to Yankee Stadium in 2006. I thought it only appropriate that the World Series was held in Yankee Stadium in 2001. I rooted my heart out for the Red Sox in 2004 as if I myself added Rs to words that don't have them and dropped them from words that do. I clearly remember watching the 1996 World Series, what some called a "return to glory," feeling it was something special.

I have a confession. I wore a Yankees cap around back then. When I wasn't wearing a Reds cap.

I remember the furor felt around campus at that time. The Yankees were in the World Series. It was that team of the legends, those guys you read about in books, not the losers of the 1980s, the ones whose baseball cards I shrugged away with indifference. One of my professors asked what all of the fuss was about. The Yanks hadn't made the playoffs since 1981! This is a team with more championships than any other professional sports team in the world!

Those days, sadly, are long gone. The naivity of such youth has been replaced by the bitterness of reality. I have learned hate, deep hate (although not as much for them as the Deadbirds.) I have learned the unfairness, the way the rich steal from the poor, the unlevel playing field, A-Rod. I've learned how to pay $8 for a beer without wincing and how to deaden the pain when a player I want to love goes to a team with more money. I've watched as a once great cable channel devoted to sports fell victim to the same demons that play Beatles songs to sell products and that tell people what they are allowed to enjoy and follow. I've seen the poison of corporatism steal the innocence from the game I so love, and the New York Yankees are the ringleaders.

Oh yes, Yankees are loathsome creatures. But there is no denying the mystique that surrounds them. Baseball would not be baseball without them, and I will continue with the occasional goosebumps I get when watching Daryl Thompson make his Major League debut today in Yankee Stadium. Yankee Stadium. Yankee Stadium. Yankee Stadium.

The Steinbrenners are traitors to the nation for building a new stadium. They should be drawn and quartered. Or tarred and feathered and paraded around Boston, where the people there, baseball gods bless them, saved their own beloved ballpark from the evil fingers of the corporate warlords.
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