Parked Brains

I went to see U2 in Chicago last night. There are a couple marginally-baseball related things in this story.

It's a five and a half hour drive between the place I am in Ohio and Chicago. I left at 7am, as I had a floor ticket and I wanted to get close to the stage, hence the need to lineup around noon (I had the advantage of a one hour time difference.) The drive was great until about an hour away from Chicago, when the brake line on the car I was driving ruptured. I coasted to the side of the road after blowing through a red light (fortunately no cars were coming). There was just enough brake power to stop at 20mph if I pumped them, so I rolled a little down the road and found a mechanic about a half a mile away.

Fortunately, the mechanic was taking an extended vacation and was closed. I looked across the street, when lo and behold, there was an Enterprise car rental. I rolled over there and not only did they have a car left to rent, but they even called the Firestone where they take their cars and took me over there (I had to roll down the street a couple of blocks). The whole process took about an hour, and I was back on the road towards Chicago.

When I arrived at Soldier Field, not really in a panic, but having lost enough time that I wasn't going to park away from the stadium and walk, I was blindsided by the cost of parking at the stadium. $46

$46.

Yes, that's $4 short of $50, nearly the cost of my ticket.

Now, anyone who's even heard of basic economics knows there's such thing as inflation. But $46 is not inflation. $46 follows no law of economics at all. In fact, it's just another form of corporate oppression from which this country suffers. I had one of two choices - to find a garage somewhere downtown for probably $20 (also ridiculous), walk, and lose another half hour or more walking (which could mean the difference between getting in the inner circle near the stage and standing on the football field unable to see anything) or paying the $46.

Why do we put up with this? People, it's not "capitalism." So many in this country have not only been brainwashed into thinking this kind of behavior is the "free market" or "capitalism," but also glorify it as "freedom." It's not freedom. It's no different than a government tax, except its a private corporation imposing it. Free markets have laws that make economies work. When we go to a baseball game, we shouldn't have to pay the price of another ticket to park a vehicle, especially in this country where you have to use a car to get anywhere.

Frank McCourt, of Dodgers bankruptcy fame, made his fortune on parking lots. What an absolutely stupid thing it is to make someone a millionaire for allowing you to stop your car for a few hours.

Anyway, I paid my $46 and got in line at 1pm. It proved to be early enough, as I was right next to the stage when I finally got inside. There was a baseball moment during the show, when Bono told us that Larry Mullen Jr. had been to the White Sox game the night before, when they beat Kansas City.

The other baseball-related moment occurred before U2 came on stage. Interpol was the warmup band. I had a pretty good view of the stage, but this giant ugly guy with a Cardinals t-shirt kept shifting right until by the end of their set, I couldn't see anything anymore. I was NOT going to be blocked for U2, but the thing about U2 shows is that people for the most part respect each others places, so I was reluctant to change my place. But I thought, that guy is oblivious to those of us behind him who can't see, why shouldn't I step in front of him, where there's a big space? And then I thought, he's a freaking Taint Louis fan, why should I care, so I ducked under his arm to the space in front of him, where I had the best view of the stage as I've had in my entire two decades of being a U2 fan. Also, since the guy was a foot taller than me, he could see over me just fine.

But I felt animosity towards him from the very beginning because of that t-shirt. Talk about parked brains. :)

Smoking

Ok, forget about getting swept by the Indians (a good team) or by the Pirates (a not-so-good team). Let's think back to happier times, back to last weekend, when we all weren't screaming for the beheadings of Jonny "Outomatic" Gomes or Edinson Walkez. Remember sweeping the hated Taint Louis Deadbirds? Well, here is an MS Paint/Photographic/Musical recollection of the fun we had then. We will have it again, I'm sure of it!

Gone fishing in the Mediterranean of my mind

So I checked my Blackberry (that people probably died to make) this afternoon to discover the Reds had swept the Fish. I watched exactly zero of the games in this series. I had exactly zero interest in watching these games. I blame Arcade Fire. And a bartender in Beirut. And the St. Louis Pigeons, who crapped all over last week, crapped out the trash they eat, those giant rats with wings.

First, the Arcade Fire album (number one in the USofA.) Something so amazing shouldn't send a person spiraling into the mire of depression and despair. But a hundred years from now when Chinese and Indian scholars are studying the demise of the American empire, they will make this album a big part of their research, because it says exactly what is happening now with nice music to go along with the narrative.

As for the bartender in Beirut, well two phone calls from Lebanon in a weekend and a homesickness for a place I don't belong and have no business longing for has plagued me to the point where I'm shaving days off my trip to Paris, a city I have pined for over the last decade, to go to a city where war could break out at any time, a filthy city where I can't breathe from the smog and the smoking and that gave me food poisoning five times in four months because of a lack of health and safety regulation enforcement, a virtual anarchy...but the human body is 75% water, and my slowly aging body is 75% Mediterranean water. Oh, this is a place where you can see snowcapped mountains next to the most beautiful body of water on the planet, a place where you can ski and go to the beach in the same day, a place where there is a bartender who drinks his Almaza beers with a Cincinnati Reds jersey coolie. Hmm...I wonder how that got there...

And the freaking Deadbirds, well, where's Dickhead Cheney when you need him? That series just made me realize how much making the playoffs and then NOT winning the World Series is going to stink. Because I really believe we are going to the playoffs. But I don't believe we are going to get to the World Series. I just don't think we have that extra It you need to win it all. They couldn't step it up when it mattered. But hey, at least I'm developing that little shield thingy around my heart so it won't hurt so much when we Paul Keels over. And hey, it's a heck of a lot better than Paul Keelsing over in June.

Isn't it?

For tonight

In case you hadn't heard, a couple of weeks ago Kings of Leon canceled a concert in St. Louis because they kept getting crapped on by pigeons as they were playing. Well, being as juvenile as I am, I've run with the whole Pigeon Poop thing for anything dealing with the Deadbirds. I wanted to have this graphic done in time for the series, but didn't finish. Maybe tomorrow. The voodoo just needs to be put out there now.

Is this the real life? Is it just fantasy?

I chose to watch the Reds game on E$PN last night for a national perspective and just to watch it on a big television screen rather than the tiny computer screen.

The beginning was a Joey lovefest. Joe Morgan interviewed him before the game and Joey couldn't stop smiling. He is clearly loving the attention, even if he says it doesn't matter - he looks like a kid at Christmas. And wow, he really was upset - rightly so - in not making the All Star team. I hope he mashes the Phillies this week.

I have the Rockies-Deadbirds game on right now, cheering for Colorado like I actually cared about that team. Dexter Fowler is a hero. Jimenez is, too. I don't think twice about these guys for 156 games of the year.

The season began ho-hum enough. Like a lot of Reds fans, I didn't have the same level of enthusiasm for the start of the season as I had in the past. It didn't seem like the team had tried to improve much, and I knew better than to be fooled for the tenth season in a row. Losing on our Holy Opening Day was just icing on the ho-hum cake. April seemed pretty crappy - the team went 12-11 and there was still a long season ahead. Then suddenly it was June 1 and we were in first and everyone was looking for signs that it was all a fluke. You know the Texas saying (maybe it's Tennessee), "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice...uh...uh, you can't get fooled again."

We passed the halfway point in the season a few games ago and now we're three games up on the Hated Deadbirds and find ourselves wondering what the heck is going on. How are we supposed to act? Why are we watching a Rockies-Deadbirds game and cheering as the Rockies go up 4-1 in the 5th? Why did we just spend a great deal of time in the last few days voting for a fourth Red for the All Star team? Four? Really?

Last night's E$PN game seemed like they were introducing the Cincinnati Reds to America. From the Joey interview to the in-game commentary that was much more about the Reds than the Mets, it seemed like E$PN was showcasing our team for much more national attention to come.

Is this the real life? Or are we going to be let down like we have been so many seasons in the past decade? It certainly feels different. It certainly feels legit. And god, is it fun.

Feels so good to take a series from the Deadbirds

Now...sweep!

There's something about this team...

.297/.458/.581

Know what I mean?

Yeah, I had great seats for Thursday night's game against the Deadbirds. Got up close with Prince Poopholes. But you know what? I like the Reds first baseman A-OK and think he's gonna be as good as the Dark Prince of Missouri. I just want the Nationals leftfielder back in Cincinnati.

Photos from the game:

Stormy winter

You know my hatred for the Cardinals is matched by a hatred for no other team. You know I created a virtual voodoo doll of Albert Pujols that made him go on the DL just a couple of days later. But did you know that my burning animosity toward that team is so intense that as I stare out a window at the snow-covered ground, I see a cardinal eating berries from a bush and think, "Stupid bird, not migrating to warmer climates for winter. Typical cardinal."?

The thing is, I like birds. I like watching the colorful ones hop around and eat things and ride air currents and all that. I liked cardinals until realignment put that team in our division. The cardinal is Ohio's state bird, probably because it is the only thing with color once winter's gloom settles over the Midwest.

See, folks? You shouldn't hate. Hatred makes you irrational. But it's so easy when Pujols is on the team.

In other news, or I guess I should say in news, I am happy that David Weathers has accepted arbitration. I know that there are mixed feelings about Stormy. I can hear some of the groans as I read the article on reds.com. Yet I am saying a little out loud "yay" to myself. Why? The reason is irrational. It's because he is so nice.

Yes, I am yaying because of the niceness of a player. The year was 2006. The day was the day after the trade deadline. Myself and fellow Reds fans sat in the Mayflower Hotel stalking the players. At first, it was just me, and I was having an overpriced coffee in the lobby while pretending to do work and waiting for the players to get up and go to the ballpark. Stormy was one of the first ones I saw. I said, "Hi Stormy," as he passed me on his way back from what I think was a smoke break. He flashed a genuine smile and gave me a return "hi" in his Tennessee drawl. Later on that same day, after I had taken a much longer lunch than an hour, he came over and started chatting with the few Reds fans that were hanging around (they were there thanks to my big mouth). The guy was really down to earth and I became a Stormy fan that very day.

Now, I realize what we are losing out on is a supplemental first round draft pick and a chunk of dough, plus there's the whole if you use him for more than an inning or bring him in with men on base, you'll experience heart attack-like symptoms, but hey, he's an effective reliever, a leader in a young bullpen (with guys like Herrera and Roenicke potentially landing roles), and it's only a one year deal, RIGHT REDS?

I applaud this move with a golf clap and a smile.
___

I'm in a Friday state of mind

So here are some random baseball notes and thoughts...

You know I hate the Deadbirds with every ounce of my being - but the Rick Ankiel story is pretty incredible. That he hit a three run homer in his first game back in the big leagues since 2004 just makes the story all that more appealing. Ankiel is replacing Scott Spiezio, who is having substance abuse issues. Now, I can't stand Spiezio and that stupid red soul patch on his chin, but I hope he gets the help he needs and overcomes his problems.

Does losing make all GMs sound like jackasses? The Padres Kevin Towers is blaming former D'backs GM Joe Garagiola Jr. for not winning the NL West the last time they didn't win it. Why? Because Garagiola wouldn't trade him Steve Finley to him. Towers told the Union Tribune that Garagiola treated the Padres like a leper colony.

The Chub$ are a half game out of first. Sorry Sausages, you aren't going to win this division. The Sausages just lost Graffinino for the rest of the season. Ben Sheets is still hurt. Plus, the Chub$ are rich now that they've undertaken the blasphemy of putting advertising all over the sacred Wrigley Field. Let me ask something - when you see a sign at the ballpark, does it make you buy the product? I mean, having a giant outfield sign saying "Toyota" actually makes me NOT want to buy a Toyota because their garbage is on the wall. I realize that teams need the revenue, but I think some outside the box thinking would work really well in today's rapidly changing baseball. You know what I think would be interesting? A team having a private school in its home city - a baseball academy, if you will. They have these things in the Caribbean, where kids go to school and then play baseball. Just think of what kind of revenue a private school could bring in - or not just revenue, but player development, too. Shoot, if the Reds had a private baseball school, I'd have a kid just so I could send him there. Or what about selling customized paint jobs for cars bearing the team logo? Not only would you have people buying the paint jobs, but you also would have cars driving around with the logo - free advertising! There's a ton of stuff that can be done if execs would just step away from conventional thinking. And we don't have to see the eyesores on the outfield walls and the insanity of "This call to the bullpen brought to you by..." and "Bank of America Presents the National League Player of the Week."

The Apocalypse is on - the Giants and the hated Dodgers made a trade with each other.

And finally, this guy has an awesome story about a game at Shea Stadium in the seventies against the Big Red Machine.



___

The Battle of Archopolis

Good triumphed over evil in the waning hours of yesterday, when an oppressed people fought gallantly to victory against an imperial force who had stolen baseball in a conquest just six months earlier. The hero of the battle had been a punching bag for Negativocles, who seemed to pop up everywhere, from the dark corners of the blogosphere to the incandescence of a stadium to the talking heads of the $por$ network$. Negativocles said he was a waste of money, destined to ruin a season with his light lumber and his aged 30 year old body. Negativocles looked up to the sky and saw clouds where blue should have been and screamed "The sky is falling!" Then came the thunder.

It came in the form of the coveted longball, the holiest of hits. While El Birdbrains watched in not-so-silence as their evil empire crumbled before their eyes, the enemy they had dismissed so readily hacked away at their outfield fences, and the hero, called The Man Who Has No Bat (misnomer), sent two missiles into the peasantry, who watched the battle from their tiny plots of stadium land.

The Man Who Has No Bat (misnomer) was also known as Defensively Overrated (misnomer) by Negativocles' followers, but he was renamed The Man With The Bat and was awarded the Webgem Medal of Honor for his skill on the soaking battlefield, which had been pounded by oceans of storms that had temporarily suspended the contest prior to its start.

Some notes about the battle:

• The Imperial Prince was silent for most of the night, and then a battle injury took him out of the fight. The injury was brought on by a wizard who had put a voodoo curse on him.
• The Artillery kept firing pitches with the blessing of St. Cy Young, who was tragically ignored during his own sacred holiday last year when the High Priest appointed under his name was chosen. The Artillery had been a perfect representative of the saint, yet the blasphemers chose a lesser deserving candidate.
• The Immortal One wrote his own page of history when he pushed Mr. October off Olympus into the land of the lesser gods. Finally.
• Steamy Hot Drink was full of spoiled milk once again as he secretly tried to aid the enemy in the ninth, but He Who Has No Bat (misnomer) fought the treason successfully, and victory over the hated Deadbirds was sealed.

Final score: 10-3.

Here we go

I'd say we have Harang going tonight and Bronson going tomorrow, but that hasn't worked out so well thus far since we have no freaking offense. I feel so disappointed that I'm not even looking forward to the game this evening. I know it's early. I know that saying the season is done is akin to saying the sky is falling. But I'm sick and tired of watching the losing, and even the winning is close to losing since we can't find the plate with a scoring foot. It doesn't even matter if the Reds are facing Randy Keisler on Thursday, because we can make shitty pitchers look like Cy Young right now.

But never give up hope. This, too, shall pass.
___

Going to Cincy

Mom just got some Reds tickets for us, so I'll be going to Cincy to see three games in four days!

Sat., June 30th vs. Deadbirds, sec 107,
Sun. July 1 vs. Deadbirds, sec 108, and
Tues, July 3rd vs. Giants, sec 140, MoonDeck.

Looks like mostly bleacher seats left for the Deadbirds series. That's awesome news! Hopefully Eric Milton hasn't put the Reds out of contention so those games against the Deadbirds are important. Or perhaps Braden Looper will have put the Deadbirds out of contention?

Ahh, it brings me back to just last year, the back to back sweep of the Deadbirds and the Asstros, the rage of excitement flowing through our veins as we realized our team was in first place in June, those hyperexciting dollar hotdog nights against the Deadbirds later in the year before that fateful plunge into the Pacific Ocean all but drowned our dreams. We surfaced one last time thanks to the floundering Deadbirds...It was a great season, even if it was a losing one. This one will be even better!
___

There's a Bush leaguer for you...

It was a bad day at work, and had I known the entire Deadbirds team was three blocks from my office today, it would have been even worse. Or perhaps their black karma was what was making my day bad.

Stupid Deadbirds.

Stupid Flanders.

I hope the Deadbirds lose 162 games next year

83 wins, one game above .500, St. Louis sux. The MVP Corvette Hobbit, Jeff "I want people to suffer from Parkinson's" Suppan, Jeff "I got cut from the Angels Weaver," Albert "Tom Glavine struck me out four times he sux" Pujols, Jim "I'm Dizzy" Edmonds, Chris "I can't catch a flyball" Duncan, Scott "I'm ancient" Rolen, Scott "Worst facial hair in baseball" Spezio, Chris "I am the Walrus" Carpenter, and Tony "Mafia" LaRussa are on the worst team to ever win the World Series.

And now there's no more baseball. What am I going to do for four months? Probably will take me that long to recover from this horror. Oddly enough, I kind of feel liberated by the end of the season. I'm actually going to go to dinner with a friend tomorrow and go to a Halloween party.

At least Fox ended the season with U2. I think it's a sign that next season is going to be a good one...

On Wednesday I start writing my story for National Novel Writing Month. I've tentatively titled it "In the Big Inning," a play on that joke about how God is a baseball fan. (Appropriate, don't you think?) I have yet to decide on a name for the main character. His last name is O'Hagan, as the Irish in him plays a big role in his identity. Stay tuned...

That's it, I quit

None of my voodoo or prayers or knives in birds or pleading is making the Deadbirds lose, so I quit. A Deadbirds World Series win will just make the Reds West Coast trip that much worse. We won the season series against St. Louis - four more wins on the year and we could have done this, too.

Stupid Jerry.

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Stadium Royale

Synopsis: Bond's mission takes him to Detroit, where he is to investigate a group of terrorists who are known as the Deadbirds. Following a lead to the visiting dugout, he encounters Prince Albert DePoopoo and his pal the Woodcarver, who are suspected of being part of the Deadbirds, a suspicion made greater by the red birds emblazoned across their shirts.

Bond discovers that DePoopoo is planning to hit a guy he calls Verlander, and he overhears the Woodcarver say he's going to strike out a guy named Ordonez. Bond investigates and finds an arsenal of wooden bats stored in a locker with DePoopoo's name on them. He concludes that the Deadbirds plan to slaughter the city's baseball team during the World Series and pump clouds of heartbreak over the city.

In Detroit, Bond aligns himself with Ivan, a stocky guardian of a valuable and sacred plate, and Sean, the mayor. While trying to uncover the terrorist plot, Bond meets a woman, Ima Horenstein, played by Scarlett Johansson. Captured by her stunning beauty, he does not realize that she is also part of the Deadbirds. However, she falls for his charms like the countless other bad girls, and she helps him escape after he has been stuffed into a catcher's equipment bag by DePoopoo.

The marathon games proceed with dirty tricks and violence reaching a terrifying climax. Will Bond save Detroit?

Yeah, I'm pumped for the new Bond movie, Casino Royale, which hits theaters November 17. It's kind of a prequel, a remake of the really awful television show that came out before Dr. No. I'm upset they didn't bring Pierce back for it, though. He was an awesome Bond - just look at him!

Hear the new Bond song here, performed by Chris Cornell. It isn't the final mix, and in my opinion, there needs to be less Chris and more strings.

New Bond film, new U2 CD/DVD, new Congress...man, November's going to be a killer month!

Dear Deadbirds, how do I hate thee?

Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach with every ounce of might
To the ends of Being and in every way.
I hate thee to the level of everyday's
Gametime deed, by sun and stadium light.
I hate thee truly, as the falling snow is white;
I hate thee strongly, more than the hated Yankees.
I hate thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I hate thee with a hate I seemed to lose
After my Reds were done,–I hate thee with the breath,
Frowns, tears, of all my life!–and, if Tigers choose,
I shall but hate thee better after you lose.

With apologies, of course, to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I feel like the Reds just lost the NLCS.

We are in Purgatory

The baseball gods teased us with thoughts of October through much of the season - right up to the end - then they slap us in the face with these Deadbirds victories.

Such cruelty, baseball gods - why? What have we done to deserve such torture? You have cursed us time and time again, and we have suffered mightily for it. In 1981, we had the best record in baseball but were denied October glory. In 1994 we were denied October due to another strike. You sent us the wrath of Carl "Swift Boat" Linder for a miserable span of time. You kicked your fallen angel Pete from the Cornfield in Iowa and denied us another drink of baseball glory. You gave us The Trade.

Enough! Hand these Deadbirds their defeat during the next two days and give us our dignity back!

I miss the Reds

The playoff games have been good ones, and I'm so happy the Tigers beat the Yankees. But last night as I was watching the Deadbirds lose, I realized how much I really miss watching Reds baseball. I became envious of Mets fans and hateful of Deadbirds fans. I want that. I want that screaming, the signwaving, the electric air. I want to have to wear a jacket to a Reds game to protect me from the cool October evenings. I want to watch fireworks shoot from the smokestacks as a Dunn homer brings a 2-0 lead, not apples and Beltrans. I want the country to be talking about a young stud third baseman who wears red, not blue, or the most underrated pitcher in baseball who led the league in wins, strikeouts, and complete games this year, not a 41 year old pitcher who's made 34 post-season appearances. I want the nation to worship Ken Griffey Jr. for a few weeks, to complain about how annoying Ryan Freel is, to talk about how Cincinnati baseball is back to its glory days.

Why can't I have that, Mr. Castellini?