Dunn just hit a field goal!

Right through the smokestacks!

Here's a fun fact: Adam Dunn and Albert Pujols are the youngest players to ever reach 150 homeruns. Yeah, that's right. Dunn. Do you have him on your fantasy team?

Oh, winning is so much fun!

Update: Apparently, the Dunn's homer hit a passing car outside of the stadium and the guy stopped to pick it up before driving on.

On travel

As obvious from the bizarre dual nature of this blog, I live in DC and grew up in Ohio - saw my first Reds game in San Diego at one year old. My parents were from Southwest Ohio but lived in Southern California at the time, hence the Padres game, good old Jack Murphy Stadium. Since my birth over 29 years ago in the land where rain never dampens a baseball game, I've lived in such places as Luxembourg, Ireland, California, and Texas.

Baseball games used to be shown on network television and nothing else. I can remember the Reds playing on most weekends when there were no cable contracts. There was no evil Comcast or Fox Sports Net, which, by the way, has total control over the teams with which it has contracts and allows less than 1% of the games to be broadcast on network television. Even with the weekend games, we didn't have the option of watching all of the games, so cable does a service, if you are inclined to purchase it. During the games that weren't broadcast on television, we listened to Marty and Joe on 700 WLW, a station which Jack Kerouac said had the furthest reach of all stations in the country in On the Road. (I wish I could find the quote for you.) On clear days, I've been able to pick up the station here in DC.

Joe Nuxall is semi-retired these days. He does a few games a year, and he's doing the game tonight as I listen to the radio broadcast and watch the Pirates feed, and his voice is a sweet song of nostalgic baseball bliss. At least Marty is still there day in and day out, giving his opinion without any care about who hears it. If there is anything constant in my life and my moving around all of the time, it is Marty Brennaman doing the Reds play by play on the radio.

I've missed two Opening Days in my life in all of my travels. Nothing rings truer than The Crack of the Bat, a poem I meant to post on Opening Day, one that completely resonated with me as I spent time in Euroland. I like Whitman. I like Shakespeare. I like Browning and Byron and Keats and Yeats. Still, nothing hits me like the simple verse of this poem, which the International Herald Tribune publishes every year on Opening Day. Anyone who has spent a summer away from the U.S. of A. and its national pastime during Opening Day and the season can relate:

Away on this side of the ocean
When the chestnuts are hinting of green
And the first of the cafe commandos
Are moving outside for a fine
And the sound of spring beats a bolero
As Paree sheds her coat and her hat
The sound that is missed more than any
Is the sound of the crack of a bat.

There’s an animal kind of feeling
There’s a stirring down at Vincennes Zoo
And the kid down the hall’s getting restless
Taking stairs like a young kangaroo
Now the dandy is walking his poodle
And the concierge sunning her cat
But the heart’s with the Cubs and the Tigers
And the sound of the crack of a bat.

In the park on the corner run schoolboys
With a couple of cartons for props
Kicking goals a la Fontaine or Kopa
While a little guy chikies for cops
“Goal for us,” “No it’s not,” “You’re a liar,”
Then the classical shrieks of a spat
But it’s not like a rhubarb at home plate
Or the sound of the crack of a bat.

Here the stadia thrill to the scrumdowns
And the soccer fans flock to the games
And the chic punt the nags out a Longchamp
Where the women are dames and not dames
But it’s different at Forbes and at Griffith
The homes of the Buc and the Nat
Where the hotdog and peanut share laurels
With the sound of the crack of a bat.

No, a Yank can’t describe to a Frenchman
The rasp of an umpire’s call
The continuing charms of statistics
Changing hist’ry with each strike and ball
Nor the self-conscious jog of the slugger
Rounding third with the tip of his hat
Nor the half-smothered grace of a hook slide
Nor the sound of the crack of a bat.

Now, the golfer is buffing his niblick
And the tennis buff’s tightening his strings
And the fisherman’s flexing his flyrod
Like a thousand and one other springs
Oh, the sports on both sides of the ocean
Have a great deal in common, at that
But the thing that’s not HERE
At this time of the year
Is the sound of the crack of a bat.

Hat tip: Fistful of Euros

Casey lifts his helmet to the crowd who gives him a standing ovation. I miss him. He signed a one year contract, and I still have delusions about him returning to Cincy next year. Or even in the middle of this year, when the Reds offense has carried them into contention and the Pirates are out of it. !!!

Oh, one other thing. WHY IS WOMACK PLAYING OVER FREEL??!!!!!???!!!

Dutch!

What's this, the Nats showing power? Three homers in one game? Huh? I'm confused. Five runs in an inning? Sweeeeeeeeet! Victory!

There's something thrilling about extra innings that shoots a jolt of electricity into the game, the kind of electricity that sends visible blue sparks into the late baseball sky, even if you have to stay up past your bedtime to watch (or listen, as the case may be with the Nats.) Sometimes the nervous anxiety is overwhelming, even if it is only the second game of the season. When you get to extra innings after baseball's third basemen of the future (with respect to David Wright) hits his first Major League homerun to tie the game, the game takes on a whole other meaning, like you gotta win it for this kid! At least, that's what I felt last night, when it seemed like the Nats were about to drop their second game to the Mets, and second one-run loss, of all things. (As Ball Wonk said, why do we still have the 2005 Nats hanging around?) I mean, it was Billy Wagner pitching. Billy Wagner! Dutch waited to go deep for the first time on one of the most dominant closers in baseball, a guy who commanded a salary fit only for the fat wallets of Big Apple spending madness.

The game had pretty much been one of those where you frequently mumble @#$%! under your breath and let out long, disgusted sighs as if the season had already been decided by your team's little league inability to get the job done. Your best or second best starter had performed poorly when a win was needed out of him, since your second best or best starter had lost his game two days earlier and your next three starters should be selling insurance or real estate or something other than pitching for a Major League Baseball team. Four innings? Four innings were all he could muster out of his "tight forearm." You had your $10,000,000.00 whino benched for not running out a pop foul. All of the sudden you find your finger inching closer to the radio off button because you have Billy Wagner trying to close out the game when Bang! Zoom!, Dutch hits one out. Sweeeeet.

Suddenly, your eyes open. You stare at the radio as if somehow you'll magically be able to watch the rest of the game, like the baseball gods just might finally grant you a miracle after they'd damned you to baseball hell. Your heart pounds as the Chief loads the bases in the bottom on the ninth, just to make things interesting before getting the third out, and then the fun starts.

My roommates must think I'm insane with the noises that come from my room, the jeers and the cheers and yes, even clapping, but I assure you, my pulse as yours doth temperately keep time, and makes as healthful music. It is not madness I've uttered, but a cheer of jubilation as a contractless Guillen goes yard, the start of a five run ninth which eventually leads to win number one of the year. Victory!

Free the Nationals!

See the image to the right? It's a Baltimore Orioles stock certificate. Can we all pool our resources and buy out the Orioles? Peter Devilos has affected an entire city's ability to watch their team on television.

YES I'M ANGRY.

That's right, non-Nationals fans. Peter Devilos, owner of the Baltimore Orioles, has made sure that Washington Nationals fans cannot see their team play on television if they actually live in the District, you know, the place where the Nationals play. And evil Comcast is letting him get his way. [I wish people cared enough to organize a boycott against Comcast, but, alas, no one sacrifices these days. It's too much to ask people to get rid of their cable television, isn't it?] A hearing before Congress is scheduled for Friday.

YES, I'M ANGRY.

Last year, I watched about 80% of the Nats games, half of them online. Now, I am listening to the radio because the game is blacked out on MLB.TV. I'm also watching the Brewers-Pirates game with the sound turned off. (Casey's up!) Yeah, I know, last year I would have said Milwalkee verses Pittsburgh would be the last game I would watch, but both teams have some great young players, like Jason Bay, who just hit one out.

YES, I'M ANGRY.

While I'm talking about how DCites are abused, non-DC folk, did you also know that us residents of DC don't have Congressional representation? That's right, 500,000 people who live in the capital of the democratic world don't have a democratic voice. But that's another story.

YES, I'M ANGRY.

You know, I spent two years in DC rooting for the Orioles before the Nats came. I and many others would have continued to go to a couple O's games a year, I'm sure, but with this jerk Devilos pulling all of his selfish antics, I won't spend money on tickets to his park. And it's sad, because Camden Yards is such a nice place to see baseball.

Update: Nationals Enquirer and Federal Baseball are equally as angry.

This is going to hurt

Ok, which one of you Reds or Nats fans threw it? It wasn't me, I swear.

Shh...don't tell!

Such a lovely, lovely thing to be able to watch a beautiful, sunny baseball game while suffering the slings and arrows of a day at the office without worrying that someone important is going to drop by, as all of our upper management, including my boss, are in Istanbul for a conference. Us peon types are the only ones left, confined by these drab gray walls and blinding fluorescent lights. Woohoo! Aurillia hits a two run bomb! Reds up, 4-2. Anyway, did I mention that MLB.TV is great? I have the sound turned off and am listening to Marty and Steve on the radio broadcast, although somehow, the tv, which had been a bit ahead of the radio, is now a bit behind the radio. Technology, hmph. I'm not complaining. I'm watching the Reds. At work. In Washington, DC.

Dunn is all smiles and is waving to the crowd after catching a ball in left field. The guy has a great sense of humor. How can you NOT like the guy?

Arroyo's doing it with the bat so far today, hitting one out, laying down a perfect sac bunt, and drawing a walk. Oh yeah, and he's pitching pretty well, too, messing up once for a two-run shot by Ramirez.

Griffey went yard, too. Love that guy.

I wanted to point out a couple of blogs I've added to my blogroll:

Chad Gramling, a Cubs fan, has a nice description of his Opening Day experience in Cincy on Monday.

Ballbug is a great place to find baseball news from the press around the country.

Baseball Bias features articles by bloggers from teams all over the league.

Update: Sweeeeeeeeeeeet! Nothing better than hearing Marty say, "...and this one belongs to the Reds!" (Thanks, Marty, for mentioning my blog on the radio!)

Nats line up change

Watson has got to stop bunting with Livan on base. Number 61 is the baseball equivalent of the Buick in the left lane with the turn signal on for the last five miles. - Eucalyptus

Perhaps batting ¡Livan! eighth is in order. Really, you're not hurting anything by doing it. ¡Livan! is no sloutch at the plate, and Schneider has the pop to make up for number 61's dire lack of speed, because Watson just isn't going to hit it far enough to push ¡Livan! around the bases.

¡Livan! has set a goal of 25 hits this year, and he needs 24 more to achieve his goal. Frank needs to take advantage of the opportunities his star pitcher gives the Nats. Is this idea unreasonable? I think not. It wouldn't be the first time a pitcher has batted eighth.

The loneliest player

I am watching the hated Yankees-A's game right now. In the space where commercials are on, they are simply showing Jason Kendall receiving warmup pitches, an overhead solo shot of the back of the catcher wearing his tools of ignorance. Most of the mics in the booth are turned off, but you can faintly hear the crowd, and The Verve's Bittersweet Symphony (such fond college memories) is playing in the background. It's a pretty awesome picture; something about it moves me, like it is a work of art.

It takes a certain kind of person to be a catcher. You don't quite fit in with the position players, but you don't fit in with the pitchers either. Even though a good catcher is in control of the whole game, it can be a lonely place behind the plate.

I was a catcher once upon a time, all because no one else wanted to play the brutal position. As a kid, I had been on track to most likely play third base, but in eighth grade, no one would don the gear, so I voluteered. I was a catcher for the next five years on some pretty good teams (even once got to go to Australia for an international tournament.) I have a slighty crooked right index finger from foul balls hitting my throwing hand.

Respect all catchers - they have the toughest job on the field. Go A's. At least for this series.

Frank Thomas doesn't look right in a green uniform.

Update: Oh yeah, Yanks lose in the bottom on the ninth.

IT'S ONLY ONE GAME!

Yesterday was a blustery, windy day in Cincinnati, and it caused a few balls in the air to fly around like a paper bag on American Beauty. Adam Dunn had such a horrendous day in left field that he made Soriano look like Jim Edmonds. But he wasn't the only one responsible for the Reds pathetic 16-7 loss to the Cubs yesterday. The defense was like a Little League team's, and the offense blew its share of opportunities, leaving 13 runners on base. Dunn was 2-4 with 2 RBI and 2 runs scored, so it wasn't like he was slacking at the plate.

The Reds blogosphere is alit with degrading comments towards Dunn and what is perceived as his "big contract." The Reds fans at the game were pretty nasty, too.

I hate to use baseball as a microcosmic example of something more fundamentally wrong with rational discourse in this country, but I've begun to see a pattern throughout the baseball world, and it is starting to make me worry that the place where I go to get away from the world, that being the ballpark, might actually let some of that real world in. The comments on some sites are as hateful as something you'd see on Moldy Footballs or unDemocratic Underground.

Take, for example, some of the comments on Mark Lancaster's blog.

some of you people make retards look like brain surgeons.

Some people need to un-bunch their panties, calm the hell down, and decide if they're baseball fans.

Maybe you guys should drink a little less beer at the game (it could save some money). Sounds as though some of you probably took off work and bought a couple cases of hudie. Or, maybe, find a team you don't have to trash. Yeah, I understand you want a winner.........but, damn, did you actually think it was going to happen over the winter when very little in the way of pitching was added to the roster?

GET A LIFE

And John Perricone of Only Baseball Matters has been getting hate for weeks for his views on steriods and Bonds.

I vaguely recall some pretty partisan nonsense going on last year when George Soros wanted to get into the Nats ownership group, with people saying they wouldn't renew their season ticket packages if he did.

Now, it's all fun and games to debate baseball, to rip on Bowden, or to Googlebomb National Disgrace. But when the namecalling starts, when people are screaming profanities at a guy who's having a bad day on the field in only the first game of a long season, when bloggers are having to delete abusive comments, we've lost all sense of reason and rationality. Baseball is a beautiful game. Sure, it's not without its flaws, like National Disgrace, for example, but it is a game that abounds with the best qualities that life has to offer. Has America become so hostile, so divided, that we can't even enjoy Opening Day, that holiest of baseball holidays?

Chad at Redleg Nation has some rational perspective on the situation.

It's BASEBALL! There's no mudslinging in baseball! Save it for November!

One play does not a season make

It was 3-2 in the top of the eighth inning. Dutch hit a double down the line. Suddenly, we find ourselves embroiled in controversy, all at the drop of a bat. Or so everyone is saying.

If you look at the photo, you'll notice the bat in a precarious position at the exact point of entry for a feetfirst slide into homeplate, so I suppose there is some truth in Soriano's excuse for the dangerous headfirst slide. That bat was sitting there just waiting for the chance to break our $10 million dollar man's ankle, and you can see the black menace nearly salivating at the chance to do the deed. Yet Soriano was quick minded enough to realize this danger, only to put his neck at risk instead. And the worst part is the fact that Tschida missed the call and took away the tying run, so Fonzie put his life on the line for naught.

What does a season make, however, are LOBs. The Nats left plenty of them, too, in getting 12 hits and only two measly runs. Schneider left six all by himself, and Guillen, Johnson, and Clayton left three each. It's not that they had bats laying in the way of hits with RISPs, unless you count the bats in their hands.

Vidro had an exceptionally good day (3-5, 1 RBI) until he was thrown out at second for the last out in the ninth in an attempt to stretch a single into a double. He's looking pretty good this year, dropping a noticable amount of weight to make him look more like his former All-Star self. I didn't see any bats in the way of his getting to second, though. He just didn't make it. Not a good way to end a game. Not a good way to start a season.

What is faith?

Faith is not only sticking around for the game when your team is down 12-5 in the middle of the sixth inning, but actually believing that your team will come back to win the game. At the end of six, it was 12-6; at the end of seven, it was 12-7.

I know it's rainy and cold in Cincy, but the team is an offensive machine, and a game is never over until it's over. I'm looking at the sea of empty red seats and wondering if Reds fans have lost their sense of loyalty. Being a fan means putting up with suckiness, too. You can complain and boo, but you don't turn it off or go home!

There are still 161 games to go, and look on the bright side, Dunn and Hatterburg are leading the league in homers. Oh, wait, Pujols hit two today. Rats. So much for my optimism.

Stupid errors.

Opening Day update 1

Nats loss number one of one hundred?

Ok, maybe not. The pitching was good today, as the Nats bullpen gave up no runs, so that was nice. Soriano only missed one ball he should have caught, but he did have a bonehead headfirst slide into home to get thrown out. Is he trying to commit suicide or something? Get a broken neck so he doesn't have to play left? Someone ought to tell him sliding headfirst into home is NQB. (Not Quite Bright.) We won't mention that the ump missed the call.

Looks like the Reds are getting slammed. A lot of stupid mental errors have led to some, well, most of the runs. Don't trade Aaron Harang from your fantasy team, however. While he did give up nine runs, six earned, leftfielder Adam Dunn seems to forget he is actually supposed to catch the ball and is responsible for many of those runs - just now he fell down as a ball was coming to him. Still, it's only the sixth inning. Yes, the Reds are down by 7 runs now, but they did hit the most homers in the National League last year, and they are playing at Great American Ball Park. Anything can happen. And that Cubs bullpen? Ryan Dumpster? We shall see.

Oh, and in case you haven't heard, the Rocket met with Boston today.

It's here! It's really here!

Woohoo!

I had a nice sleep in this morning, as I have taken the day off on account of this religious holiday. However, I don't think I've made enough sacrifices to the baseball gods this year, for it seems to be raining in Cincinnati, that same system that soaked the Tribe-Sox game in Chicago last night. The storm is heading this way, too, and could reach the East Coast by game time. We could have a nationwide washout. :(

I am thinking back to Opening Days past, remembering teachers in elementary school pulling in televisions to let us watch the game, and I would race home when school let out around the fourth inning so I could see the rest. There was the time when I skipped class during my freshman year of college, only to outrageously discover the game was not on network television, but as I listened on the radio, they didn't play, for home plate umpire John McSherry had a heart attack and died on the field. Not a pleasant memory. I remember the hopes we had for 1994, a season that robbed the Reds of a post season appearance when there was no post season. I recall the 2000 season, the first with a guy called Griffey. We were fresh off a season where a one game playoff verses the Mets had kept us out of the post season, and Griffey was supposed to be that missing piece of the puzzle. Sigh...

I have illogical hopes for this season, one where a few miracles can make my Reds competitive. Ahh, Opening Day, my favorite day of the year. Go Reds!

The start of the 2006 season sputters...

Rain Delay? On Opening Night? What's this about? The baseball gods must be pissed off, for why else would they send this storm and ruin Opening Night? Maybe they want to rightfully give Cincy back the first game of the season. Maybe it's just global warming. But a rainout on the first game of the season? That can't be a good sign. National disgrace better back off with the steroids thing, lest he ruin the sport forever. The baseball gods just don't seem to like him.

I was rooting for the Tribe. I don't have ESPN, so I had to go to Buffalo Billiards to watch the game. I was there with 10 others who were watching, which was nice, especially when they were cheering when something good happened. Something bad happened, too, when Sabathia left the game with an injury. (It turned out to be an ab sprain, so hopefully he won't miss a start.) I'm not sure what it is about that place, but I got two free beers and was charged happy hour price for the others, the second time I got free beer there in the last month. All of this at a time when I am trying to grow my hair out after I cut it short in boredom last month and it looks like a mess. Maybe they just feel sorry for me because of it. I'm not complaining.

Danny Graves relieved Sabathia, though not very well. It was good to see him make the team, despite his throwing a ball into center field in a pick off attempt and his five hundred walks in his one inning. Cincy pretty much destroyed his career in the 2003 attempt to make him a starter, and I wish him well in this new season.

The first pitch of the game brought a tear of joy to my eye. Seriously. I love this game that much.

So the Nats game is on ESPN, destroying my plans of watching the game on television and the Reds game online. Unless I can find a bar with the Nats game AND wireless, I'll just have to miss the Nats game. I think I've only missed one Reds Opening Day in my life, and it was one when I was in Europe before MLB.TV was invented. I won't be missing this one, either. Fado has wireless. If they have ESPN, I'm set for the day. Please have ESPN...Please have ESPN...Please have ESPN. UPDATE - it's on WDCA, too, woohoo!

It'd be easier if I knew someone with ESPN. And wireless.

Go Reds! Prove everyone wrong! Go Nats! Yay, it's baseball!

Anything the Nationals front office can do wrong, they will

It's Bowden's Law, I guess. See, I am still fuming about Friday night's ticket fiasco. We didn't make it into the park until the bottom of the fourth inning because the lines for tickets did not move thanks to a slow computer system and absolute morons running that system. Sure, we arrived at the park a bit late, soon after the first pitch was thrown, but missing most of four innings because you can't get a ticket? It was outrageous. It's like the Nationals front office wants to have no fans. The guy in front of me said he would not be returning to RFK this season because of it. We missed half the game, yet we still had to pay full price for the tix. I guarantee that the front office will be getting a nasty letter from me demanding something in return for putting up with the idiocy.

Seeing the field did a lot to diffuse the anger, however, and so did that sweet sound of a Patterson pitch hitting Schneider's mitt. He didn't pitch all that well, but it was nice to see him out there all the same.

The lineup for tomorrow:
1. Brandon Watson, CF
2. Jose Vidro, 2B
3. Nick Johnson, 1B
4. Jose Guillen, RF
5. Alfonso Soriano, LF
6. Ryan Zimmerman, 3B
7. Royce Clayton, SS
8. Brian Schneider, C
9. Livan Hernandez, P

It looks good pretty good on paper (or computer screen.) The reality, on the other hand, is quite different.

Smile, it's baseball.