Part of the Hall's re-constituted Veterans Committee will vote on the current Managers & Umpires ballot on December 2 at the Winter Meetings, with results announced on December 3. I'm hoping that total votes will be released, but it may be a simple in/out list, which is so much less interesting.
The ten candidates on this imminent M&U ballot. Candidates who were on the previous VC ballot (February 2007) will have very brief comments, unless I see a need to substantially reconsider my opinion from then to now. In the ever-popular alphabetic order, managers first:
1. (Manager #1) Whitey Herzog
Reviewed in February.
2003 VC ballot: 31.6%
2007 VC ballot: 35.8%
Good career. Not a great one. Whitey was good, but only delivered half, maybe 60% of a Hall-class career, and I don't know why he never got back into a dugout.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
2. (Manager #2) Davey Johnson
Claims to fame: manager of the New York Mets, Cincinnati Reds, Baltimore Orioles, and Los Angeles Dodgers, a total of 14 seasons. A short career but a brilliant one -- other than an inherited Reds team, Johnson's teams finished in first five times, second seven times, and third once. Career 1148 wins and a .564 winning percentage, and the monster 1986 Mets championship, a team he helped build. Won the 1997 American League Manager Of The Year Award despite being fired by the Orioles at the end of the season.
Baseball bonus points: was a player for 13 seasons, with the Baltimore Orioles, Atlanta Braves, Philadelphia Phillies, and Chicago Cubs, plus almost two complete seasons with the Tokyo Giants (click to see his stats in Japan -- scroll down about 4/5 of the page). A four-time All-Star, three Gold Gloves at second base, and a member of the 1970 World Series champion Orioles. Probably best remembered, as a player, for hitting 43 homers in 1973, becoming (with Evans (41) and Aaron (40)) the first 40+ HR trio of teammates. (Was on the Hall's player ballot once, got 3 votes, below 1%, and was relegated.)
Johnson was always a proven winner, one players spoke highly of, and yet -- and yet. Why couldn't this man keep a managerial job? He was a smart manager, maybe too smart, as he got fired four times in an 11-year period despite winning results on the field. And that he never got picked up after his last ouster in 2000 says something, but exactly what and about whom (either Johnson or how various owners and GMs viewed him) is uncertain. He knew what he was doing in the dugout and got results, and it's hard to evaluate him on anything other than that. Damn good manager; I'm going to give him the nod.
Chipmaker's vote: Yes.
3. (Manager #3) Billy Martin
Reviewed in February.
2003 VC ballot: 27.8%
2007 VC ballot: 14.8%
Fiery, sure. Whipped teams into shape for a short haul, burned them out for anything longer. If he hadn't managed the Yankees to one championship (and then got fired during a successful defense thereof) and mixed it up with Reggie now and then, he wouldn't be half so remembered as he is. Doesn't have the historical weight to merit the Hall.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
4. (Manager #4) Gene Mauch
Claims to fame: 26 seasons as manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, Montréal Expos (from the start of the franchise), Minnesota Twins, and California Angels. Notorious for never managing in the World Series, and best-remembered (unfortunately) for the 1964 Phillies, a team that collapsed in the final two weeks. Two AL West titles with the Angels, both times being stopped in the ALCS. Career 1902 wins, .483 winning percentage.
Baseball bonus points: was a player for nine seasons (1944, '47-52, '56-57) with the Brooklyn Dodgers, Pittsburgh Pirates, Chicago Cubs, Boston Braves, St. Louis Cardinals, and Boston Red Sox, but was never more than a spare part. Typically played second base.
Mauch stuck around a long time and made a lot of friends. He does own a lot of responsibility for the 1964 crash, as he overworked the pitchers, but he wasn't one of the guys on the field and it was bad enough for the blame to be spread around widely. A good manager but not a great one; the great ones can whip a team into shape even if it takes a few seasons. Hey, no one can hammer the manager of a first-year expansion team, it's a job and someone has to do it -- but in seven years with the Expos, they never finished above fourth (of six), and there wasn't any particularly powerful contender during that span -- Pittsburgh was the most dominant but could be beaten, and the 1973 NL East was simply begging some team to win it. And it was much the same in Minnesota, and most of his time in Philadelphia -- lots of second-division (bottom half) finishes. I cannot see anything in Mauch's managerial career that stands up and proclaims Hall-worthiness. There doesn't have to be championships or even division titles, but there has to be some winning.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
5. (Manager #5) Danny Murtaugh
Claims to fame: longtime manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates (15 seasons in four tenures from 1957-76). Skipper of the 1960 and 1971 World Series champion teams. Three other NL East titles. Career of 1115 wins and a .540 winning percentage. Continued to work for the Pirates in other roles during the gaps in his managerial career. Won The Sporting News' Manager Of The Year Award in 1960 and 1970.
Baseball bonus points: was a player for nine seasons (1941-43, '46-51) with the Philadelphia Phillies, Boston Braves, and the Pirates. Four seasons as a regular, mostly played second base. Useful but mainly a spare part. Led the NL with 18 stolen bases in his rookie season, which says a little bit about Murtaugh and a lot more about the National League in 1941.
A Pirates lifer, basically, and while he didn't always run a winner he was good at getting value out of his team; never had a complete disaster team. Even his bad finishes, ranking-wise, weren't teams with especially bad records -- under .500, two times barely (75-79, 80-82) and only one other, strongly losing season, finishing at .457. And of course, two trophies are a sweet and rare accomplishment, though when your squad has guys like Clemente, Stargell, and Mazeroski playing it makes it that much easier. Knew what he was doing, and twice got the big prize (the 1960 title by the skin of the teeth, but a win is a win; Murtaugh did get the team into position for Maz to end it in dramatic fashion). I might change my mind tomorrow or next week, but right now I like Murtaugh's record.
Chipmaker's vote: Yes.
6. (Manager #6) Billy Southworth
Claims to fame: 13 seasons as manager of the St. Louis Cardinals and Boston Braves. Player-manager in 1929, a breed extinct today. Won four National League pennants (1942-44 with the Cardinals, 1948 with the Braves) and two World Series championships (1942, 1944). Never finished below fourth place, and his only two losing seasons were partial ones, in his first and last managing seasons. Career 1044 wins and a sterling .597 winning percentage.
Baseball bonus points: was a player for 13 seasons (1913, '15, '18-27, '29) with the Cleveland Indians, Pittsburgh Pirates, Boston Braves, New York Giants, and St. Louis Cardinals. Good but not great hitter. Mainly played right field. Member of the 1924 NL champion Giants, when he did very little in the World Series, and the 1926 World Series champion Cardinals, where he was the starting RF for all seven games as the Cards knocked off the Yankees, batting .345 with a double, triple, and home run. Led the NL in triples in 1919. Good player, but clearly this part of his career wasn't going to get him into the Hall -- he was on the writers ballot seven times between 1945 and 1958, and peaked at 6.8% (under today's rules he'd have been relegated after his first ballot).
The wartime years might have been a bit thinner for baseball, but Southworth made the most of them, bringing home three pennants and two trophies. And that winning percentage, .597, is fifth-best among long-time managers, behind HOFers McCarthy, Comiskey, and Selee, and Mutrie (and the next seven behind Southworth are HOFers as well, so ten of the top twelve). Not a long career but, like Johnson, a brilliant one, both in wins and hardware. I don't know why the Hall hasn't welcomed this man already.
Chipmaker's vote: Yes.
7. (Manager #7) Dick Williams
Reviewed in February.
2003 VC ballot: 41.8%
2007 VC ballot: 37.0%
Wore out his welcomes, though not as quickly as Martin did. Popular when winning but never got a break when losing; didn't build up the goodwill needed to get a chance to pull out of a dive. Short-term managers have their purposes, but adorning a Hall plaque isn't one of them.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
8. (Umpire #1) Doug Harvey
Reviewed in February.
2003 VC ballot: 60.8% (highest return on ballot)
2007 VC ballot: 64.2% (highest return on ballot)
I don't see much need for the Hall to honor umpires, as to me they are not participants in the game, but part of the framework. So I don't really care if an umpire gets elected or not. The previous VC, which was player-heavy, obviously liked Harvey but not enough. The new electorate has eight former players, two former managers, three executives, and three writers. If these players like Harvey, he'll probably get in. If they don't, he won't. So far they've liked him, but he needs 12 of 16. I think he'll get it, but no tears if he doesn't.
Chipmaker's vote: Yes, as before, but again I'm just riding the player pool opinion.
9. (Umpire #2) Hank O'Day
Claims to fame: National League umpire for 29 years (1895, 1897-1911, 1913, 1915-27). Officiated in ten World Series, including being the only NL ump in the three of the first four (1903, '05, '07). Developed a stand-offish persona for professional reasons, as one- or two-man crews were the norm of the time, and he wanted to avoid even potential improprieties; this became the bedrock of his reputation for excellence. One of the umpires in the 1908 "Merkle's Boner" game that ended in a tie, forcing a replay game a few weeks later to decide the NL title.
Baseball bonus points: started out as a player, lasting seven years mainly as a pitcher, with the Toledo Blue Stockings (American Association), Pittsburgh Alleghenys (AA), Washington Nationals (National League), New York Giants (NL), and New York Giants (Players League), from 1884-90. His 329 IP workload in his final season left his arm too sore to continue. Adequate but nothing great, and no hitter whatsoever. O'Day was also a manager for two seasons, in 1912 for the Cincinnati Reds and 1914 for the Chicago Cubs. Both teams finished in fourth place; O'Day finished with 153 wins and a .498 winning percentage.
It's nearly impossible to assess an umpire objectively even in modern times, and O'Day's career was a century ago. Legends tend only to grow over time. I think O'Day is a good candidate and might be a good HOFer some day, but my general view of umpires still applies, and I've already cast a fainthearted vote for Harvey. So, not this time. Impressively varied career though.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
10. (Umpire #3) Cy Rigler
Claims to fame: longtime National League umpire (1906-35, 30 years). Credited for creating umpire hand-signaling for balls and strikes, a technique he pioneered while still working in the minors. An expert in groundskeeping and field layout. Worked in ten World Series. Noted for having a thick skin and great patience during on-field arguments, and had a dominating physical presence.
Another impressive career, but like O'Day another (very) olde-tymer. If Rigler is a sufficiently critical part of baseball history (and just for the hand signals alone, he deserves a lot of credit), he should have been in the Hall before now. So, another good candidate, but not this year.
Chipmaker's vote: No.
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Summary of Chipmaker's Yes votes: Johnson, Murtaugh, Southworth, Harvey.
If I could vote for only one: Southworth.
Coming soon: the Executives ballot.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
The Hall Of Fame's NEW Veterans Committee, part 1: The Setup
The Hall revamped the Veterans Committee after the 2001 election, primarily because it, both the Board and the constituent honorees, were tired of the format: an unaccountable handful of men, former players and retired executives and olde-tyme writers, horse-trading to put a few names in every year or two. There's more to it, but that's the boiled-down version, and it's not something worth rehashing here.
So the VC was revamped and the electorate expanded, to include all living HOFers (a group hovering in the 60-70 headcount range), all living winners of the Frick and Spink Awards (honored announcers and writers, respectively), and any members of the former VC whose terms had not yet expired. This new VC was given two mandates: vote on retired players every other year, and vote on retired managers and executives every fourth year. And the VC didn't elect any players in 2003 or 2005 or 2007, nor any managers or executives in 2003 or 2007, and neither did it show any promising trends to get around to electing anyone any time soon. So, following the third consecutive shutout in 2007, the Hall bailed on that VC design.
The NEW new Veterans Committee has a diverse membership, but the entire group doesn't vote on any single ballot. The VC now has ownership of four different ballots, each of which has a different relevant electorate. Standard conditions apply -- anyone on baseball's Ineligible List cannot be considered, 75% vote return required for election, etc. With that in mind, let's step through each new ballot.
1. The ballot: "Post-WWII Players" -- retired players who began their major league career in 1943 or later and have passed from BBWAA consideration.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2008 (2009 Induction for electees).
The ballot composition: some details are still vague, but a BBWAA-appointed committee (of indeterminate size) will name 20 candidates. A separate, Hall-appointed committe (consisting of six HOFers) will name five candidates. The two lists are combined (duplicates deleted if necessary) for a draft ballot of 20-25 candidates. The living HOFers then review and cull the draft list down to a final ballot of 10 candidates.
The electorate: the living HOFers (currently 62, following the death of Phil Rizzuto) will vote the ten-candidate ballot, with 75% minimum return needed for election.
The practical upshot: being voted on only by playing peers might finally get Ron Santo the bronze plaque in 2009. I don't expect this ballot will ever elect more than one player per ballot, but I do think it will finally deliver a very select few their key to the Hall. Also, since any player debuting in 1943 would have been born around 1918-25, a window which corresponds to the current oldest HOFers (MacPhail, Feller, Musial), there's the likelihood that at least one voter has first-hand familiarity with anyone on the final ballot, which adds a depth of perspective that a page of stats just cannot provide.
2. The ballot: "Pre-WWII Players" -- retired players who began their major league career before 1943.
Voting frequency: every five years, beginning in 2008 (2009 Induction; next would be 2013 for 2014 Induction).
The ballot composition: uncertain, but likely to be crafted by a multiple-iteration review process by one or more Hall-appointed committees, which is how the Hall likes to do these things. Size of the final ballot unspecified, but probably no more than ten.
The electorate: a special committee of 12 members (HOFers, writers, and historians), appointed by the Hall Board.
The practical upshot: provides a lasting albeit very narrow doorway for olde-tymers to earn the plaque, if some lost diamond hero is uncovered or deeper research reveals some overlooked star. As I think by now there are very few remaining injustices across the long reach of history (not named Santo), I cannot imagine who might be identified for the ballot, let alone get elected. Looking back to the 2007 VC ballot, the oldest players by debut were Carl Mays (1915) and Lefty O'Doul (1919), good players but clearly not Hall caliber (and the vote return validated this). The oldest debut player that I liked for the Hall was Joe Gordon (1938). The historical research continues, and while the statistics are available for everyone maybe yet some name will jump out, but I just don't think there's any players buried in the deeps of time that really, really demand induction. This ballot seems part safety valve, part feel-good (door not locked forever), part old horse-tradin' style Veterans Committee (or at least could become abused in such a manner; 12 voters is a small enough group in which one or two proponents could wield substantial influence). Well, we'll just have to see. The five-year interval certainly makes it not a priority ballot.
3. The ballot: "Managers and Umpires" -- just what it says, though I find this a very curious pairing.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2007 (2008 Induction for electees). Ballot results to be announced December 3 (whether only inductee names or actual voting totals is not yet clear).
The ballot composition: an 11-member, BBWAA-appointed committee of writers crafted the ballot of ten total candidates of retired managers and umpires. (The 2007 ballot happens to have seven managers and three umpires.) The writers who contributed to the 2007 ballot: Dave Van Dyck, Bob Elliott, Rick Hummell, Steve Hirdt, Moss Klein, Bill Madden, Ken Nigro, Jack O'Connell, Nick Peters, Tracy Ringolsby, and Mark Whicker. (It's nice to know the committee members, though I don't think it's all that important, unless someone wants to write to one or more and tell them how good or bad a job they did on crafting the ballot. At least we know who they are.)
The electorate: a 16-member committee appointed by the Hall, each for a term of one year (which is renewable). Electors may cast as many as four votes, with no write-ins. For the 2007 ballot the committee includes HOFers (Aaron, Bunning, Gibson, Jenkins, Kaline, Lasorda, Niekro, Perez, Weaver, and Billy Williams), executives (Jim Frey (retired), Roland Hemond, Bob Watson), and writers (Jack O'Connell, Tim Kurkjian, Tom Verducci). I don't like O'Connell being on both the ballot committee and the election committee as a matter of principle, but he's the only one, so I'll let that pass.
The practical upshot: Interesting that this committee is player-heavy (eight, nine counting Lasorda), plus two managers (one legendary for mixing it up with umpires), so at first glance any umpire candidate is doomed; but perhaps not. I see little need for the Hall to recognize umpires, but that'll be up to the committee.
4. The ballot: "Executives" (edit: the background issue appears to be fixed) -- anyone who did something for baseball in an office, unless there's a better definition, who is either retired or active and over age 65.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2007 (2008 Induction for electees). Ballot results to be announced December 3 (whether only inductee names or actual voting totals is not yet clear).
The ballot composition: an Executive Voting Committee developed a ballot of ten candidates.
The electorate: a 12-member committee appointed by the Hall Board, each for a term of one year (which is renewable). Electors may cast as many as four votes, with no write-ins. For the 2007 ballot the committee includes HOFers (Irvin, Killebrew), executives (Bobby Brown (retired), John Harrington (retired), Jerry Bell, Bill DeWitt, Bill Giles, David Glass, Andy MacPhail), and writers (Paul Hagen, Rick Hummell, Hal McCoy).
The practical upshot: I don't see a lot of need for executives to get plaques either, as most of the true pioneers and visionaries have already been inducted. There is one enormous oversight, however -- former players union executive director Marvin Miller. With a player-heavy electorate, he'd have waltzed in by now; but with this owner/general manager dominated electorate, first impression is that he has no chance whatsoever (I cannot imagine former Wal-mart CEO David Glass ever voting for someone who not only worked for a union, but forged it into the strongest labor union the country has ever seen). Election from this ballot takes nine of 12; even with the players and writers on his side (no sure thing), Miller would still need a majority of the executives, four of seven. I could rave about Miller for pages, but the short version is that no one, no one, has had a greater or more lasting positive impact on the business of baseball than he, and that is exactly the sort of contribution that the Hall should seek to honor. Putting Miller before this electorate is either inept consideration or deliberate relegation from him having a legitmate candidacy, neither of which reflects well on the Hall or its new VC policies. Marvin Miller is without a doubt the most worthy person of the Hall who is not yet in, and making him stand before an electorate which is composed of present and former office-holders who would consider him an enemy is profoundly cruel. One can almost smell the conspiracy of "let's never let Marvin Miller get a plaque", and denying this man's historical impact on the great game is a disservice to everyone.
But then again, maybe he'll get elected. He surely deserves it, and I'd like him to be alive (he's in his 90s) when the election announcement comes.
Final comment: by expanding the mandate of the Veterans Committee and breaking its purview into four parts, each with a smaller electorate than before and a smaller ballot, the chances of this VC edition electing someone, anyone, from at least one ballot is better than it was during the 2003-07 approach. While I think that electing no one is a very valid result, the Hall (and the city of Cooperstown) has vested interest in seeing at least one person (preferably someone living) starring in the annual induction ceremony every summer -- and with Steroids Era candidates coming up in recent years (and Canseco already relegated -- not that he was Hall worthy, but he got clobbered on the ballot return), chances for many potential 1990s-window candidates are looking uncertain but dodgy. This multi-track Veterans Committee should, I think, put one or two people (or descendants thereof) on the podium, and this is a happier outcome than a perpetual "no, no one this year" response.
Coming very soon, reviews of the candidates on the Managers & Umpires and Executives ballots.
So the VC was revamped and the electorate expanded, to include all living HOFers (a group hovering in the 60-70 headcount range), all living winners of the Frick and Spink Awards (honored announcers and writers, respectively), and any members of the former VC whose terms had not yet expired. This new VC was given two mandates: vote on retired players every other year, and vote on retired managers and executives every fourth year. And the VC didn't elect any players in 2003 or 2005 or 2007, nor any managers or executives in 2003 or 2007, and neither did it show any promising trends to get around to electing anyone any time soon. So, following the third consecutive shutout in 2007, the Hall bailed on that VC design.
The NEW new Veterans Committee has a diverse membership, but the entire group doesn't vote on any single ballot. The VC now has ownership of four different ballots, each of which has a different relevant electorate. Standard conditions apply -- anyone on baseball's Ineligible List cannot be considered, 75% vote return required for election, etc. With that in mind, let's step through each new ballot.
1. The ballot: "Post-WWII Players" -- retired players who began their major league career in 1943 or later and have passed from BBWAA consideration.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2008 (2009 Induction for electees).
The ballot composition: some details are still vague, but a BBWAA-appointed committee (of indeterminate size) will name 20 candidates. A separate, Hall-appointed committe (consisting of six HOFers) will name five candidates. The two lists are combined (duplicates deleted if necessary) for a draft ballot of 20-25 candidates. The living HOFers then review and cull the draft list down to a final ballot of 10 candidates.
The electorate: the living HOFers (currently 62, following the death of Phil Rizzuto) will vote the ten-candidate ballot, with 75% minimum return needed for election.
The practical upshot: being voted on only by playing peers might finally get Ron Santo the bronze plaque in 2009. I don't expect this ballot will ever elect more than one player per ballot, but I do think it will finally deliver a very select few their key to the Hall. Also, since any player debuting in 1943 would have been born around 1918-25, a window which corresponds to the current oldest HOFers (MacPhail, Feller, Musial), there's the likelihood that at least one voter has first-hand familiarity with anyone on the final ballot, which adds a depth of perspective that a page of stats just cannot provide.
2. The ballot: "Pre-WWII Players" -- retired players who began their major league career before 1943.
Voting frequency: every five years, beginning in 2008 (2009 Induction; next would be 2013 for 2014 Induction).
The ballot composition: uncertain, but likely to be crafted by a multiple-iteration review process by one or more Hall-appointed committees, which is how the Hall likes to do these things. Size of the final ballot unspecified, but probably no more than ten.
The electorate: a special committee of 12 members (HOFers, writers, and historians), appointed by the Hall Board.
The practical upshot: provides a lasting albeit very narrow doorway for olde-tymers to earn the plaque, if some lost diamond hero is uncovered or deeper research reveals some overlooked star. As I think by now there are very few remaining injustices across the long reach of history (not named Santo), I cannot imagine who might be identified for the ballot, let alone get elected. Looking back to the 2007 VC ballot, the oldest players by debut were Carl Mays (1915) and Lefty O'Doul (1919), good players but clearly not Hall caliber (and the vote return validated this). The oldest debut player that I liked for the Hall was Joe Gordon (1938). The historical research continues, and while the statistics are available for everyone maybe yet some name will jump out, but I just don't think there's any players buried in the deeps of time that really, really demand induction. This ballot seems part safety valve, part feel-good (door not locked forever), part old horse-tradin' style Veterans Committee (or at least could become abused in such a manner; 12 voters is a small enough group in which one or two proponents could wield substantial influence). Well, we'll just have to see. The five-year interval certainly makes it not a priority ballot.
3. The ballot: "Managers and Umpires" -- just what it says, though I find this a very curious pairing.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2007 (2008 Induction for electees). Ballot results to be announced December 3 (whether only inductee names or actual voting totals is not yet clear).
The ballot composition: an 11-member, BBWAA-appointed committee of writers crafted the ballot of ten total candidates of retired managers and umpires. (The 2007 ballot happens to have seven managers and three umpires.) The writers who contributed to the 2007 ballot: Dave Van Dyck, Bob Elliott, Rick Hummell, Steve Hirdt, Moss Klein, Bill Madden, Ken Nigro, Jack O'Connell, Nick Peters, Tracy Ringolsby, and Mark Whicker. (It's nice to know the committee members, though I don't think it's all that important, unless someone wants to write to one or more and tell them how good or bad a job they did on crafting the ballot. At least we know who they are.)
The electorate: a 16-member committee appointed by the Hall, each for a term of one year (which is renewable). Electors may cast as many as four votes, with no write-ins. For the 2007 ballot the committee includes HOFers (Aaron, Bunning, Gibson, Jenkins, Kaline, Lasorda, Niekro, Perez, Weaver, and Billy Williams), executives (Jim Frey (retired), Roland Hemond, Bob Watson), and writers (Jack O'Connell, Tim Kurkjian, Tom Verducci). I don't like O'Connell being on both the ballot committee and the election committee as a matter of principle, but he's the only one, so I'll let that pass.
The practical upshot: Interesting that this committee is player-heavy (eight, nine counting Lasorda), plus two managers (one legendary for mixing it up with umpires), so at first glance any umpire candidate is doomed; but perhaps not. I see little need for the Hall to recognize umpires, but that'll be up to the committee.
4. The ballot: "Executives" (edit: the background issue appears to be fixed) -- anyone who did something for baseball in an office, unless there's a better definition, who is either retired or active and over age 65.
Voting frequency: every other year, beginning 2007 (2008 Induction for electees). Ballot results to be announced December 3 (whether only inductee names or actual voting totals is not yet clear).
The ballot composition: an Executive Voting Committee developed a ballot of ten candidates.
The electorate: a 12-member committee appointed by the Hall Board, each for a term of one year (which is renewable). Electors may cast as many as four votes, with no write-ins. For the 2007 ballot the committee includes HOFers (Irvin, Killebrew), executives (Bobby Brown (retired), John Harrington (retired), Jerry Bell, Bill DeWitt, Bill Giles, David Glass, Andy MacPhail), and writers (Paul Hagen, Rick Hummell, Hal McCoy).
The practical upshot: I don't see a lot of need for executives to get plaques either, as most of the true pioneers and visionaries have already been inducted. There is one enormous oversight, however -- former players union executive director Marvin Miller. With a player-heavy electorate, he'd have waltzed in by now; but with this owner/general manager dominated electorate, first impression is that he has no chance whatsoever (I cannot imagine former Wal-mart CEO David Glass ever voting for someone who not only worked for a union, but forged it into the strongest labor union the country has ever seen). Election from this ballot takes nine of 12; even with the players and writers on his side (no sure thing), Miller would still need a majority of the executives, four of seven. I could rave about Miller for pages, but the short version is that no one, no one, has had a greater or more lasting positive impact on the business of baseball than he, and that is exactly the sort of contribution that the Hall should seek to honor. Putting Miller before this electorate is either inept consideration or deliberate relegation from him having a legitmate candidacy, neither of which reflects well on the Hall or its new VC policies. Marvin Miller is without a doubt the most worthy person of the Hall who is not yet in, and making him stand before an electorate which is composed of present and former office-holders who would consider him an enemy is profoundly cruel. One can almost smell the conspiracy of "let's never let Marvin Miller get a plaque", and denying this man's historical impact on the great game is a disservice to everyone.
But then again, maybe he'll get elected. He surely deserves it, and I'd like him to be alive (he's in his 90s) when the election announcement comes.
Final comment: by expanding the mandate of the Veterans Committee and breaking its purview into four parts, each with a smaller electorate than before and a smaller ballot, the chances of this VC edition electing someone, anyone, from at least one ballot is better than it was during the 2003-07 approach. While I think that electing no one is a very valid result, the Hall (and the city of Cooperstown) has vested interest in seeing at least one person (preferably someone living) starring in the annual induction ceremony every summer -- and with Steroids Era candidates coming up in recent years (and Canseco already relegated -- not that he was Hall worthy, but he got clobbered on the ballot return), chances for many potential 1990s-window candidates are looking uncertain but dodgy. This multi-track Veterans Committee should, I think, put one or two people (or descendants thereof) on the podium, and this is a happier outcome than a perpetual "no, no one this year" response.
Coming very soon, reviews of the candidates on the Managers & Umpires and Executives ballots.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
A Valiant Pug, Remembered
When Val first moved in, more-or-less for good, she of course brought the two sister pugs, Song-hai and Mui-mui, with her, and in mid-1996 she found Chan-ho. Walking the entire pack with leashes was pointless, so we simply didn't bother. They never wandered far.
The pugs were the biggest reason we made friends with a couple down the street, David and Monet, because they had a pug also, a beefy male, almost as big as Chan-ho, named J.C. Pinkerton, or JC for short. David was also a baseball fan -- Yankees his favorite, but he's one of the delightful, sane Yankee fan types -- so whenever he stopped by on a walk, he and I could yak for an hour easily. Our pugs were always trying to be friendly with JC, but he was too used to being a solo pug. It took him months to warm up to our little pack, but eventually a reasonably warm detente was reached. Sometimes David would tell us that, while out walking with JC, neighbors would call out "where's the other two?" We loved that (three pugs are memorably noticable).
Monet amicably moved on, and David met Lori and they married and JC heartily approved of this. And then they moved to a larger home, not so far away but well beyond walking distance, a newer neighborhood on the other side of the highway. Tile floors! JC adapted. Pugs do -- comfortable places to sleep, a known spot where the food dish is, and a small yard is all they really want, so JC was good.
Our pugs, in turn, went away to that great soft blanket in the sky. But, whenever David and Lori left town, we gladly watched JC for them. It was always good to have a pug around the house again. Despite getting on in years (14 or so), and having various health concerns (some of which our pugs had had, or similar), JC was easy to caretake. Our last time keeping him was a few weeks ago, and he was in good spirits and had a typical pug appetite. JC had recently had surgery to remove some skin cancer tumors, but apparently had healed nicely. David came and picked him up, and though he seemed a bit more sluggish than usual, I didn't think anything of it.
Last week David called and told us that JC had taken a turn for the worse, and was declining fast. We talked for a while, and later that night I visited. JC was lying by the back door, apparently comfortable, but he had very little strength left -- he lifted his head to sniff my hand, but showed no interest otherwise. He didn't seem to notice my stroking his coat; he was simply exhausted, even worn out.
Since Val and I had put down three pugs -- it never gets easy, but there is small comfort in being familiar with the process -- I gave what little advice and succor that I could. JC's longtime vet could not give a promising prognosis, and from what I could tell by observing him, it was only a matter of time, or choosing to let him go. It isn't easy news to deliver, but JC was at the point that he couldn't be helped, only kept comfortable for a while. Everything David, Lori, and I discussed came back to the same conclusion. JC's tail was never up -- the sign of an unhappy pug. He had decent appetite but was slowly losing interest. He had a very hard time standing up, and his sides twitched when he exhaled, signs of losing muscle control and strength. David had found him lying in his own puddle one morning. It was miserable, but the cancer had gotten JC, and all that was left was to decide when to let him go. It is the hardest, harshest, and kindest thing an owner ever can do for a pet, but it becomes that or let the wee beastie descend into physical ruin. A clean death is the humane choice, no matter how dismal it is.
JC hardly moved the entire time I was there, at least an hour -- lifted his head a little, shifted a tiny bit, but otherwise just snoozed and snored. He was a sweet pug, a good pug -- well, they all are, really.
Last Wednesday, David and Lori took JC to his vet and let him go.
Goodbye, big pug, our "fourth pug". Very glad to have known you, and so sorry you had to go. You were well loved, JC.
Dogs' lives are too short, and really, that is their only flaw.
----------
Euthanizing a cherished pet is a rotten decision, but one nearly every pet owner has to face sooner or later. There is no easy way to get to that decision; the best pets are like family. When we let each pug go -- they each had different terminal conditions -- it was a question of the quality of their respective lives. We couldn't do anything more but give them the kindness of release from their misery (and yes, they were miserable; we probably kept each one a little longer than we should, but it was very, very hard to let them go, even as we watched them obviously dying). So, here is a short list of advice I give to people having to make this ultimate choice for their animal friend.
1. The pet's quality of life -- are they ever happy any more? If they aren't enthused about eating (dogs in particular) or being stroked or scritched, they are not happy. Your vet probably won't suggest euthanasia, but will take you to the brink of that choice. Listen deeper to his or her advice. When your pet has nothing left, let them go -- keeping them longer is mostly for your sake, and that's not helping your pet.
2. Be there for your pet when he goes. You've been a good owner this long, don't abandon him now. He deserves that much. And it's not so bad -- they fall asleep, and are at peace.
3. Think about how to treat the remains. Cremation, burial at home, pet cemetery -- decide on something ahead of time.
4. Decide what to do with no-longer-needed toys, leashes, etc. Any remaining food should be donated to the local shelter or Humane Society, they can always use it.
5. It's okay to take pictures. Someday you may want to remember those last moments, or afterwards.
6. You are doing a kind thing. Good pets don't deserve to suffer.
7. When you are ready, later, there are many, many good animals -- dogs and cats and others -- waiting to be adopted, and wanting nothing more than a welcoming home. Rescue another animal that is not in need of the final nap. You'll both be glad you did.
The pugs were the biggest reason we made friends with a couple down the street, David and Monet, because they had a pug also, a beefy male, almost as big as Chan-ho, named J.C. Pinkerton, or JC for short. David was also a baseball fan -- Yankees his favorite, but he's one of the delightful, sane Yankee fan types -- so whenever he stopped by on a walk, he and I could yak for an hour easily. Our pugs were always trying to be friendly with JC, but he was too used to being a solo pug. It took him months to warm up to our little pack, but eventually a reasonably warm detente was reached. Sometimes David would tell us that, while out walking with JC, neighbors would call out "where's the other two?" We loved that (three pugs are memorably noticable).
Monet amicably moved on, and David met Lori and they married and JC heartily approved of this. And then they moved to a larger home, not so far away but well beyond walking distance, a newer neighborhood on the other side of the highway. Tile floors! JC adapted. Pugs do -- comfortable places to sleep, a known spot where the food dish is, and a small yard is all they really want, so JC was good.
Our pugs, in turn, went away to that great soft blanket in the sky. But, whenever David and Lori left town, we gladly watched JC for them. It was always good to have a pug around the house again. Despite getting on in years (14 or so), and having various health concerns (some of which our pugs had had, or similar), JC was easy to caretake. Our last time keeping him was a few weeks ago, and he was in good spirits and had a typical pug appetite. JC had recently had surgery to remove some skin cancer tumors, but apparently had healed nicely. David came and picked him up, and though he seemed a bit more sluggish than usual, I didn't think anything of it.
Last week David called and told us that JC had taken a turn for the worse, and was declining fast. We talked for a while, and later that night I visited. JC was lying by the back door, apparently comfortable, but he had very little strength left -- he lifted his head to sniff my hand, but showed no interest otherwise. He didn't seem to notice my stroking his coat; he was simply exhausted, even worn out.
Since Val and I had put down three pugs -- it never gets easy, but there is small comfort in being familiar with the process -- I gave what little advice and succor that I could. JC's longtime vet could not give a promising prognosis, and from what I could tell by observing him, it was only a matter of time, or choosing to let him go. It isn't easy news to deliver, but JC was at the point that he couldn't be helped, only kept comfortable for a while. Everything David, Lori, and I discussed came back to the same conclusion. JC's tail was never up -- the sign of an unhappy pug. He had decent appetite but was slowly losing interest. He had a very hard time standing up, and his sides twitched when he exhaled, signs of losing muscle control and strength. David had found him lying in his own puddle one morning. It was miserable, but the cancer had gotten JC, and all that was left was to decide when to let him go. It is the hardest, harshest, and kindest thing an owner ever can do for a pet, but it becomes that or let the wee beastie descend into physical ruin. A clean death is the humane choice, no matter how dismal it is.
JC hardly moved the entire time I was there, at least an hour -- lifted his head a little, shifted a tiny bit, but otherwise just snoozed and snored. He was a sweet pug, a good pug -- well, they all are, really.
Last Wednesday, David and Lori took JC to his vet and let him go.
Goodbye, big pug, our "fourth pug". Very glad to have known you, and so sorry you had to go. You were well loved, JC.
Dogs' lives are too short, and really, that is their only flaw.
----------
Euthanizing a cherished pet is a rotten decision, but one nearly every pet owner has to face sooner or later. There is no easy way to get to that decision; the best pets are like family. When we let each pug go -- they each had different terminal conditions -- it was a question of the quality of their respective lives. We couldn't do anything more but give them the kindness of release from their misery (and yes, they were miserable; we probably kept each one a little longer than we should, but it was very, very hard to let them go, even as we watched them obviously dying). So, here is a short list of advice I give to people having to make this ultimate choice for their animal friend.
1. The pet's quality of life -- are they ever happy any more? If they aren't enthused about eating (dogs in particular) or being stroked or scritched, they are not happy. Your vet probably won't suggest euthanasia, but will take you to the brink of that choice. Listen deeper to his or her advice. When your pet has nothing left, let them go -- keeping them longer is mostly for your sake, and that's not helping your pet.
2. Be there for your pet when he goes. You've been a good owner this long, don't abandon him now. He deserves that much. And it's not so bad -- they fall asleep, and are at peace.
3. Think about how to treat the remains. Cremation, burial at home, pet cemetery -- decide on something ahead of time.
4. Decide what to do with no-longer-needed toys, leashes, etc. Any remaining food should be donated to the local shelter or Humane Society, they can always use it.
5. It's okay to take pictures. Someday you may want to remember those last moments, or afterwards.
6. You are doing a kind thing. Good pets don't deserve to suffer.
7. When you are ready, later, there are many, many good animals -- dogs and cats and others -- waiting to be adopted, and wanting nothing more than a welcoming home. Rescue another animal that is not in need of the final nap. You'll both be glad you did.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
The Hall Of Fame's NEW New Veterans Committee
Following the third consecutive shutout by the Veterans Committee in February, the Hall decided to revamp the VC yet again, since the 2001 respin clearly wasn't doing anything that couldn't be accomplished by having no VC at all (which is, at times, an appealing thought). I knew about this, the Hall rather slipped the only press release under the door during the All-Star hoopla in July (where it got totally ignored), and have a few words to say about it, but the quick version is that the ballots will be smaller, and therefore it is more likely that someone will get elected. Which will be a good thing, as there are a few names deserving the honor.
There are two ballots, results of which will be announced in early December, one for managers and umpires (curious pairing, that) and another for executives. The candidate selection and ballot constitution methodologies also got revised, and we'll get to that soon as well. To conclude, here are the candidates, ten names per ballot (another new wrinkle):
Managers (7) & umpires (3): Whitey Herzog, Davey Johnson, Billy Martin, Gene Mauch, Danny Murtaugh, Billy Southworth, and Dick Williams; Doug Harvey, Hank O'Day, and Cy Rigler.
Executives: Buzzie Bavasi, Barney Dreyfuss, John Fetzer, Bob Howsam, Ewing Kauffman, Bowie Kuhn, John McHale, Marvin Miller, Walter O'Malley, Gabe Paul.
In the next few days I'll review the names that were not included in the February 2007 voting, with very brief recaps of those who were, because I cannot imagine my opinions have changed since then.
The one name that jumps off the page is, of course, longtime MLBPA executive director Marvin Miller, who had greater and longer-lasting impact upon the game than any other off-field personnel in the history of the game.
There are two ballots, results of which will be announced in early December, one for managers and umpires (curious pairing, that) and another for executives. The candidate selection and ballot constitution methodologies also got revised, and we'll get to that soon as well. To conclude, here are the candidates, ten names per ballot (another new wrinkle):
Managers (7) & umpires (3): Whitey Herzog, Davey Johnson, Billy Martin, Gene Mauch, Danny Murtaugh, Billy Southworth, and Dick Williams; Doug Harvey, Hank O'Day, and Cy Rigler.
Executives: Buzzie Bavasi, Barney Dreyfuss, John Fetzer, Bob Howsam, Ewing Kauffman, Bowie Kuhn, John McHale, Marvin Miller, Walter O'Malley, Gabe Paul.
In the next few days I'll review the names that were not included in the February 2007 voting, with very brief recaps of those who were, because I cannot imagine my opinions have changed since then.
The one name that jumps off the page is, of course, longtime MLBPA executive director Marvin Miller, who had greater and longer-lasting impact upon the game than any other off-field personnel in the history of the game.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Backpacking through the years
Our daughter Amalie began school this year, and so needed a backpack. Not for hauling around books other than the occasional library check-out; kindergarten doesn't impose great demands on classical academics. So I picked up an appropriately pink roller model at Target (the rollers were Amie's idea).
Then we switched her school -- the private institution just wasn't the place for her -- and the new school, public, strongly recommends against roller models. So, off to Target, where there was still a good supply, now on clearance sale. A new, similar, pink backpack was procured.
And soon, the loop handle ripped. Given how light the loads within have been, this was unacceptable quality. It went back to Target, and a third, different, yet still pink backpack was acquired.
And the loop ripped on this one, too. Feh. Enough is enough -- there's no substitute for quality, so last night I ordered a JanSport brand bag for Amalie, pink of course. I've been using a JanSport since college, lo over two decades ago, and while it now looks (and is) beaten to hell, it is still enduring. Loop handle intact, straps firmly anchored, tough suede leather bottom (nothing can Take It like suede), zippers strong. Some of the seams have burst, but the way I've treated this pack over the years, I'm more than impressed. So it'll be a JanSport for Amalie as well. Unless she needs something bigger, she'll still be using it in 20 years, you betcha. And mine, past 40, will probably still be around as well.
Then we switched her school -- the private institution just wasn't the place for her -- and the new school, public, strongly recommends against roller models. So, off to Target, where there was still a good supply, now on clearance sale. A new, similar, pink backpack was procured.
And soon, the loop handle ripped. Given how light the loads within have been, this was unacceptable quality. It went back to Target, and a third, different, yet still pink backpack was acquired.
And the loop ripped on this one, too. Feh. Enough is enough -- there's no substitute for quality, so last night I ordered a JanSport brand bag for Amalie, pink of course. I've been using a JanSport since college, lo over two decades ago, and while it now looks (and is) beaten to hell, it is still enduring. Loop handle intact, straps firmly anchored, tough suede leather bottom (nothing can Take It like suede), zippers strong. Some of the seams have burst, but the way I've treated this pack over the years, I'm more than impressed. So it'll be a JanSport for Amalie as well. Unless she needs something bigger, she'll still be using it in 20 years, you betcha. And mine, past 40, will probably still be around as well.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Building A Dynasty, One Championship At A Time
The Boston Red Sox are the 2007 World Series champions. Yow!
The Olde Towne Team gave it quite a run this year -- they tied for the best record in baseball, they fought off the dreaded Yankees at every charge, crushed the Angels in the Division Series, went tooth-and-claw with the Indians in the ALCS and surged back from a 3 games to 1 deficit, and then surmounted the Rockies in a sweep, their second consecutive.
It wasn't so long ago that the 2004 Sox also swept the Series, and that one was the culmination of an amazing ride (which we won't rehash here). Amalie still remembers me pouring champagne on my head, and Carson was still percolating within Val at the time. Tonight, I gathered the kids to me, and we watched the last few outs together. They were happy with me as Papelbon got Smith to strike out, clinching another trophy a mere three years after the legendary 86-year gap since the previous championship, when Babe Ruth was still on the team. I pointed out to Carson that he wasn't here (mostly) the last time, so it was good he got to see this one (who knows, it could be 86 years to the next one, again).
We stepped out back, I popped the bottle of Taittinger, and drank some -- not all of it, not this time -- and for the principle of it, and at Amie's behest, poured a small amount on my head. Satisfied, we went back in, and Amalie headed to bed -- school tomorrow, after all.
Winning always feels good, yes. But I got the one I really wanted in 2004 -- the one so many of us had waited for. This one -- excellent of course, no complaints -- but it feels more like a bonus, a cashing in of overfunded good karma, delight but not ecstacy. It was a show we've seen before, and recently. And no mistake, the 2007 team was better than the 2004 edition -- but for dramatic impact, it couldn't compare. After all, there's no more Curse to break, heh.
I watched it, with my kids (both this time), and it was a good time. The Red Sox are not only champions, they are champions AGAIN. I never imagined I'd be able to write that sentence in earnest. A most happy ending to the 2007 baseball season.
And that's the downside of the World Series and the crowning of a champion: it's the end of the season. Baseball goes away, mostly, for five months.
Thank you, baseball, and hurry back. I miss you already.
The Olde Towne Team gave it quite a run this year -- they tied for the best record in baseball, they fought off the dreaded Yankees at every charge, crushed the Angels in the Division Series, went tooth-and-claw with the Indians in the ALCS and surged back from a 3 games to 1 deficit, and then surmounted the Rockies in a sweep, their second consecutive.
It wasn't so long ago that the 2004 Sox also swept the Series, and that one was the culmination of an amazing ride (which we won't rehash here). Amalie still remembers me pouring champagne on my head, and Carson was still percolating within Val at the time. Tonight, I gathered the kids to me, and we watched the last few outs together. They were happy with me as Papelbon got Smith to strike out, clinching another trophy a mere three years after the legendary 86-year gap since the previous championship, when Babe Ruth was still on the team. I pointed out to Carson that he wasn't here (mostly) the last time, so it was good he got to see this one (who knows, it could be 86 years to the next one, again).
We stepped out back, I popped the bottle of Taittinger, and drank some -- not all of it, not this time -- and for the principle of it, and at Amie's behest, poured a small amount on my head. Satisfied, we went back in, and Amalie headed to bed -- school tomorrow, after all.
Winning always feels good, yes. But I got the one I really wanted in 2004 -- the one so many of us had waited for. This one -- excellent of course, no complaints -- but it feels more like a bonus, a cashing in of overfunded good karma, delight but not ecstacy. It was a show we've seen before, and recently. And no mistake, the 2007 team was better than the 2004 edition -- but for dramatic impact, it couldn't compare. After all, there's no more Curse to break, heh.
I watched it, with my kids (both this time), and it was a good time. The Red Sox are not only champions, they are champions AGAIN. I never imagined I'd be able to write that sentence in earnest. A most happy ending to the 2007 baseball season.
And that's the downside of the World Series and the crowning of a champion: it's the end of the season. Baseball goes away, mostly, for five months.
Thank you, baseball, and hurry back. I miss you already.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Tax Liberty Day
You know that day, which keeps getting later every year, when you finish paying your taxes and begin earning for yourself? I think it's currently in mid-May. That is not what this is about.
The IRS allows, without fuss, an extension to file the annual return, an extra six months past the notorious April 15 date. I took the extension in 2006, finished up our return in a mad crush as October 15 approached, filed and paid what we owed, and swore to myself I wouldn't do THAT again.
Oops, I did it again.
Sunday was another mad crush, organizing receipts (for 2006; I still need to catch up on 2007, and there's some leftover 2005 stuff as well, nothing important, obviously), figuring out how much we had forked over in sales taxes (since Texas residents can deduct it; we don't have a state income tax), working out how badly stock sales would hit us (not bad at all really), and finally waltzing it all through TaxCut and e-filing. And, heck, I had over 11 hours to spare! Plus a nice refund coming.
It felt like Frodo delivering the Ring into the fire, with the upside that I didn't have to have a finger bitten off.
So this time, in public (inasmuch as anyone reads this sketchy blog), I hereby promise myself that my 2007 return, next year, will not take so long to file. Next year I will be diligent. And praise be unto the people who produce TaxCut.
When filing, did you take the long distance phone tax refund? The standard value maxes out at $60.00, but if you can provide receipts you can claim the actual value. I'm enough of a nerd that, yep, I have all the phone bills for the last N years, though only back to early 2003 are meaningful for this purpose. I wrung out all the actual tax paid, dollars and cents, and it worked out to $76 and change, so a small win for the home team. Well, it got better -- the IRS only deals in whole-dollar amounts, so everything got rounded up -- a small gain there -- and the kicker, there was a few dollars of interest included! Final score, $92. Man, tax accounting is weird.
The IRS allows, without fuss, an extension to file the annual return, an extra six months past the notorious April 15 date. I took the extension in 2006, finished up our return in a mad crush as October 15 approached, filed and paid what we owed, and swore to myself I wouldn't do THAT again.
Oops, I did it again.
Sunday was another mad crush, organizing receipts (for 2006; I still need to catch up on 2007, and there's some leftover 2005 stuff as well, nothing important, obviously), figuring out how much we had forked over in sales taxes (since Texas residents can deduct it; we don't have a state income tax), working out how badly stock sales would hit us (not bad at all really), and finally waltzing it all through TaxCut and e-filing. And, heck, I had over 11 hours to spare! Plus a nice refund coming.
It felt like Frodo delivering the Ring into the fire, with the upside that I didn't have to have a finger bitten off.
So this time, in public (inasmuch as anyone reads this sketchy blog), I hereby promise myself that my 2007 return, next year, will not take so long to file. Next year I will be diligent. And praise be unto the people who produce TaxCut.
When filing, did you take the long distance phone tax refund? The standard value maxes out at $60.00, but if you can provide receipts you can claim the actual value. I'm enough of a nerd that, yep, I have all the phone bills for the last N years, though only back to early 2003 are meaningful for this purpose. I wrung out all the actual tax paid, dollars and cents, and it worked out to $76 and change, so a small win for the home team. Well, it got better -- the IRS only deals in whole-dollar amounts, so everything got rounded up -- a small gain there -- and the kicker, there was a few dollars of interest included! Final score, $92. Man, tax accounting is weird.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Why I Love Baseball, Part 1 (of an open-ended series)
I love baseball, and I know it shows. I am not a "sports fan" -- I am a baseball fan. There is a dreadful amount of marketeers worldwide who continually fail to grasp this simple distinction.
One reason why I love baseball is that it has charm, a dimension of suitable silliness that simply does not exist in any other organized sporting competition. Today's exhibit: Dave Bresnahan. Some readers may know him better as "the potato guy".
In 1987, hanging on as a backup catcher in AA level on a cellar-dwelling team, Bresnahan contrived to break the tension of the end of a long summer. He decided to pull a prank play, throw something to third base, and deliberately miss the fielder, to trick the runner into breaking for home, where Bresnahan would have the ball and tag him out. He decided to use a peeled, carved potato as the doppelganger ball. The play worked, but when the potato was pointed out, the umpire awarded the runner home plate, and the game continued. The story has only grown in the 20 years since. The potato is now preserved by the folks at The Baseball Reliquary.
Great story, yes? It gets better. Bresnahan's old team (he was released the next day, and his baseball career was over), the Williamsport Bills (now the Crosscutters), recently gave away bobbleheads of Dave Bresnahan, throwing a potato.
Bobble Dave, spud in hand.
Last year, the Portland Beavers gave away bobbleheads of former Vancouver Canadians player Rodney McCray, in honor of his legendary crashing through the outfield wall (link to video) in Portland in 1991.
McCray crashes through a wall panel, just like in real life.
And you just don't get these sorts of things in other sports -- not the antics or events, not the legends afterwards, and certainly not the decade anniversary celebrations (no matter how silly or small; the point is, these things get remembered).
And that's one reason why I love baseball. Even the ridiculous bits of history are there to be looked back upon, and commemorated again later.
One reason why I love baseball is that it has charm, a dimension of suitable silliness that simply does not exist in any other organized sporting competition. Today's exhibit: Dave Bresnahan. Some readers may know him better as "the potato guy".
In 1987, hanging on as a backup catcher in AA level on a cellar-dwelling team, Bresnahan contrived to break the tension of the end of a long summer. He decided to pull a prank play, throw something to third base, and deliberately miss the fielder, to trick the runner into breaking for home, where Bresnahan would have the ball and tag him out. He decided to use a peeled, carved potato as the doppelganger ball. The play worked, but when the potato was pointed out, the umpire awarded the runner home plate, and the game continued. The story has only grown in the 20 years since. The potato is now preserved by the folks at The Baseball Reliquary.
Great story, yes? It gets better. Bresnahan's old team (he was released the next day, and his baseball career was over), the Williamsport Bills (now the Crosscutters), recently gave away bobbleheads of Dave Bresnahan, throwing a potato.
Bobble Dave, spud in hand.Last year, the Portland Beavers gave away bobbleheads of former Vancouver Canadians player Rodney McCray, in honor of his legendary crashing through the outfield wall (link to video) in Portland in 1991.
McCray crashes through a wall panel, just like in real life.And you just don't get these sorts of things in other sports -- not the antics or events, not the legends afterwards, and certainly not the decade anniversary celebrations (no matter how silly or small; the point is, these things get remembered).
And that's one reason why I love baseball. Even the ridiculous bits of history are there to be looked back upon, and commemorated again later.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Namesake
Oh, lotta catching up to do. We were away nearly the whole of July, and there were many adventures worth mentioning. But I made a promise to do this one first.
We took a day trip down to the White Plains, NY, area -- still a bit familiar to me, even 21 years after I last co-oped for IBM there -- and visited our daughter Amalie's namesake.
My grandmother-in-law, Pauline, passed away six years ago this month, just before the great unpleasantness -- and while I would have loved her to stay longer, in some ways it was just as well, as she deserved to live in a better world than what we have today. I only met her the one time, on a trip with Val to Wisconsin in, oh, 1995 I think it was. She was delightful, and honest in that special seniors' way -- tell you to scoot, leave, she needed her time alone. No one minded.
Long ago, after she had her only child, my father-in-law Jack, she remarried to a man named Spiegel, who had a sister, Amelie. Pauline and Amelie were great friends as well as sisters-in-law. And, glad tidings, Amelie is still with us. She turns 102 right about now.
After Pauline passed, and Val was carrying our first, we thought to name her (we knew we were getting a girl) after her great-grandmother, but the name didn't quite fit. However, "Amelie" just sang to us both -- yes, there was the concurrent movie in release, but that had nothing to do with it -- and after tweaking the spelling (I thought a second "a" was more feminine), we had our daughter's name: Amalie. (To this day, she is still the only Amalie we have known, although there is a brand of motor oil, which was good for a chuckle when we found out.)
Amalie (age 5) meets her namesake, Amelie (age 102).
We drove down; Amelie and Amalie met. "Elder Amie" is still spry, gets around fine, sharp; has a morning helper but gets by otherwise. We showed pictures of some visits to various Wenner kin, and asked for some olde-tyme stories of Pauline when she lived on Park Avenue in NYC. Amelie related one anecdote -- Pauline's apartment had a balcony overlooking 34th Street; turn and look west and the Empire State Building is but blocks away, towering over everything. Pauline had been preparing for a fund raiser dinner and had set many fresh gardenias out on the balcony, among the many tasteful preparations for the evening. As party time approached, she went out to check the balcony -- and pigeons had descended and camped, utterly ruining the gardenias. Pauline was livid, her mood was ruined (along with the flowers), and the fund raising didn't come off quite as planned. (Amelie made this sound better than I have recounted.)
Junior and senior.
Time passed, and we had to leave. It was a good visit, we hope we can do it again.
We took a day trip down to the White Plains, NY, area -- still a bit familiar to me, even 21 years after I last co-oped for IBM there -- and visited our daughter Amalie's namesake.
My grandmother-in-law, Pauline, passed away six years ago this month, just before the great unpleasantness -- and while I would have loved her to stay longer, in some ways it was just as well, as she deserved to live in a better world than what we have today. I only met her the one time, on a trip with Val to Wisconsin in, oh, 1995 I think it was. She was delightful, and honest in that special seniors' way -- tell you to scoot, leave, she needed her time alone. No one minded.
Long ago, after she had her only child, my father-in-law Jack, she remarried to a man named Spiegel, who had a sister, Amelie. Pauline and Amelie were great friends as well as sisters-in-law. And, glad tidings, Amelie is still with us. She turns 102 right about now.
After Pauline passed, and Val was carrying our first, we thought to name her (we knew we were getting a girl) after her great-grandmother, but the name didn't quite fit. However, "Amelie" just sang to us both -- yes, there was the concurrent movie in release, but that had nothing to do with it -- and after tweaking the spelling (I thought a second "a" was more feminine), we had our daughter's name: Amalie. (To this day, she is still the only Amalie we have known, although there is a brand of motor oil, which was good for a chuckle when we found out.)
Amalie (age 5) meets her namesake, Amelie (age 102).We drove down; Amelie and Amalie met. "Elder Amie" is still spry, gets around fine, sharp; has a morning helper but gets by otherwise. We showed pictures of some visits to various Wenner kin, and asked for some olde-tyme stories of Pauline when she lived on Park Avenue in NYC. Amelie related one anecdote -- Pauline's apartment had a balcony overlooking 34th Street; turn and look west and the Empire State Building is but blocks away, towering over everything. Pauline had been preparing for a fund raiser dinner and had set many fresh gardenias out on the balcony, among the many tasteful preparations for the evening. As party time approached, she went out to check the balcony -- and pigeons had descended and camped, utterly ruining the gardenias. Pauline was livid, her mood was ruined (along with the flowers), and the fund raising didn't come off quite as planned. (Amelie made this sound better than I have recounted.)
Junior and senior.Time passed, and we had to leave. It was a good visit, we hope we can do it again.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Birthdays and Anniversaries
Today, 17-June-2007, is both Father's Day -- and I qualify -- and also my parents' 46th wedding anniversary. I wasn't there, but have seen the pictures. Dad was in his Navy whites, Mom in a white gown, of course. I'm not going to say my parents are my heroes -- that's both sappy and clichéd, and simply being my parents is more than enough burden to celebrate. I cannot imagine what it's like fulfilling the role of "parent" for nearly a half-century, but I do hope I get to find out. It's a pretty good example for which to strive. I started a lot later, though.
Also recently, both the dear wife and I had birthdays in the past few weeks. We were in Houston when mine rolled around, a weekend spent going to Astros games (all of us for one, me alone for the second), the Houston Art Car Parade (too many pictures to choose just one; I'll try to get a gallery up), then one night in Galveston at Moody Gardens, where we toured the rainforest pyramid before heading home. Val and the kids surprised me (really!) with a few presents -- a baseball book and a toy sushi set, which was great fun (but which, by now, I've largely relegated to the kids to enjoy).
Amalie prepares a California roll (well, not really).
After the Art Car Parade, we walked back across downtown Houston -- our hotel was right next to the ballpark -- and it wasn't so hot or bright a day that we were miserable, though it was a decent trek (the buildings provided plenty of shade). Along the way we came across a huge sculpture that was perfect for the kids to play with, so we took a few minutes and let them poke about.
The kids interact with a gigantic sculpture in downtown Houston.
Pretty birds at Moody Gardens.
Val's birthday is less than a month after mine, and while I'd like to say I was on top of things, that wouldn't nearly be the case. The traditional gift, a medallion -- she collects them -- of the 2007 Iditarod winner (it was Lance Mackey), was frustrated in that such a medallion has not yet been produced, and may never be (some of the winners apparently are hard to get to agree to personal image licensing, as was the case in 2006). So the day before, I started just winging it, picking up a few things we needed or wanted anyway, plus a roll of paper, and to be fair I had gotten her a book a few days earlier, so I wasn't a total basket case. In all, Val got eight gifts, and the one roll of paper served the need perfectly; there were two leftover bits just about right for Amalie's origami hobby, so she took them and folded them into animal heads, which currently are lost among the usual ground clutter. As with the kids, Val had to find the gifts scattered about the homestead, but with two small and eager helpers this only took a few minutes.
Val, assisted by Carson, surveys her birthday hoard.
Opening the gifts was not a problem either, as she had four extra hands more than ready to rip and tear. The haul included: a new rice cooker, a grilling rack, the aforementioned book about physicist Richard Feynman, a DVD movie (The Queen; it's pretty good), a standup banana hook for the kitchen, a bar of peach soap, a pound of organic coffee, and a new wallet. This one was particularly special for me, both because her old one was falling apart, and the pockets inside were so small that I had to abrade my knuckles whenever retrieving receipts or filching a bit of cash. The new wallet is sturdy, well-conditioned leather with roomy pockets; it went into service immediately with hearty approval.
The finishing touch was, of course, birthday desserts. While we make cakes for the kids, the preferred option among the big people is a selection of treats from Central Market, which is what I did get. A small chocolate cheesecake, a brightly-frosted cupcake, a walnut brownie, and a slice of carrot cake (my personal favorite, though I'm more than happy to share), all eaten in a round-robin style, though the kids liked the cupcake best, as witness below.
Amalie enjoys some birthday cupcake.
As does Carson.
Guess who got baths later?
So, good birthdays to enjoy. There was a Mother's Day in there as well, and Val was suitably feted, mainly through our vacation weekend with not a meal to be cooked nor (and this is more important) cleaned up. And we got in some swimming in Galveston, which is always fun.
And as for Father's Day? All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a few minutes peace to read the comics, and I got it. It helps to aim small sometimes.
Also recently, both the dear wife and I had birthdays in the past few weeks. We were in Houston when mine rolled around, a weekend spent going to Astros games (all of us for one, me alone for the second), the Houston Art Car Parade (too many pictures to choose just one; I'll try to get a gallery up), then one night in Galveston at Moody Gardens, where we toured the rainforest pyramid before heading home. Val and the kids surprised me (really!) with a few presents -- a baseball book and a toy sushi set, which was great fun (but which, by now, I've largely relegated to the kids to enjoy).
Amalie prepares a California roll (well, not really).After the Art Car Parade, we walked back across downtown Houston -- our hotel was right next to the ballpark -- and it wasn't so hot or bright a day that we were miserable, though it was a decent trek (the buildings provided plenty of shade). Along the way we came across a huge sculpture that was perfect for the kids to play with, so we took a few minutes and let them poke about.
The kids interact with a gigantic sculpture in downtown Houston.
Pretty birds at Moody Gardens.Val's birthday is less than a month after mine, and while I'd like to say I was on top of things, that wouldn't nearly be the case. The traditional gift, a medallion -- she collects them -- of the 2007 Iditarod winner (it was Lance Mackey), was frustrated in that such a medallion has not yet been produced, and may never be (some of the winners apparently are hard to get to agree to personal image licensing, as was the case in 2006). So the day before, I started just winging it, picking up a few things we needed or wanted anyway, plus a roll of paper, and to be fair I had gotten her a book a few days earlier, so I wasn't a total basket case. In all, Val got eight gifts, and the one roll of paper served the need perfectly; there were two leftover bits just about right for Amalie's origami hobby, so she took them and folded them into animal heads, which currently are lost among the usual ground clutter. As with the kids, Val had to find the gifts scattered about the homestead, but with two small and eager helpers this only took a few minutes.
Val, assisted by Carson, surveys her birthday hoard.Opening the gifts was not a problem either, as she had four extra hands more than ready to rip and tear. The haul included: a new rice cooker, a grilling rack, the aforementioned book about physicist Richard Feynman, a DVD movie (The Queen; it's pretty good), a standup banana hook for the kitchen, a bar of peach soap, a pound of organic coffee, and a new wallet. This one was particularly special for me, both because her old one was falling apart, and the pockets inside were so small that I had to abrade my knuckles whenever retrieving receipts or filching a bit of cash. The new wallet is sturdy, well-conditioned leather with roomy pockets; it went into service immediately with hearty approval.
The finishing touch was, of course, birthday desserts. While we make cakes for the kids, the preferred option among the big people is a selection of treats from Central Market, which is what I did get. A small chocolate cheesecake, a brightly-frosted cupcake, a walnut brownie, and a slice of carrot cake (my personal favorite, though I'm more than happy to share), all eaten in a round-robin style, though the kids liked the cupcake best, as witness below.
Amalie enjoys some birthday cupcake.
As does Carson.
Guess who got baths later?So, good birthdays to enjoy. There was a Mother's Day in there as well, and Val was suitably feted, mainly through our vacation weekend with not a meal to be cooked nor (and this is more important) cleaned up. And we got in some swimming in Galveston, which is always fun.
And as for Father's Day? All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a few minutes peace to read the comics, and I got it. It helps to aim small sometimes.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Rocket Launch 2007
Tomorrow, Saturday 09-June, is supposed to be when Roger Clemens makes his major league debut this season, starting for the Yankees against Pittsburgh.
I'm glad he's going to be back on the mound. I just don't much care for the uniform he'll be wearing.
Yes, I am a Red Sox fan of long standing, and so, in a good-natured, love-the-game way, I hate the Yankees. It's nothing personal; I've never hated any individual Yankee player (except Bernie Williams, and that was for baseball reasons). And it's not like Clemens hasn't worn the pinstripes before. This time, however, I really think he did not make the best choice of team for which to play.
Clemens made no secret that, were he to come back in 2007 (and I never, never doubted that he would), it would be with the Yankees, Red Sox, or Astros, where he had pitched since 2004.
Looking at these teams in turn:
Boston simply doesn't need him. The Sox have a huge lead in the AL East, and while no lead is ever big enough until the magic number reaches zero, it has to feel good to be sitting, not only on top, but seeing the Yanks down in fourth, sometimes fifth (dead last) place. So, while Clemens would have looked great -- perfect, really -- wearing the Fenway whites again, it was not necessary for the team to get him.
The Astros, well, I kinda figured this year was doomed. They staggered badly last year, only staying in contention because the Cardinals were so weak as well, and the 2007 team was going to be Biggio's march to 3000 hits. (Aside: and that's what the team is doing. Bidge is clearly on the very cusp of being washed up, and his presence atop the lineup is one reason why the team is doing so poorly. He's not all of the cause, but he isn't helping. Hurry up and get him to 3000, maybe around 3015 for the respectability of it, and then sit him down.) Clemens in Houston would help, sure, and he's got plenty of ancillary reasons to play there -- I'll detail in another post soon -- that I thought he would find compelling. But not so, this year.
So, the Yankees... nearly $200 million in payroll, and losing. This team simply has not come together like many expected, and has dug itself into so large a hole that nothing is likely to help. They paid a fortune for Rocket's services (and I honestly do not care how much he earns; one, he's worth it, and two, it was willingly offered. The Yankees can afford doing things like this), but it won't be enough. I'm not here to diagnose the Yankees' woes (and actually find it somewhat amusing, but that's a topic for another time), but I expect the 2008 team will be significantly different, and that Clemens won't be a part of it. There's still a lot of the season left to play, but it's not looking too well in the Bronx, Rocket or not.
So Clemens is coming back, but his impact will necessarily be limited. For that, and other reasons, I would have much rather seen him in Houston. Ah well; good luck in Noo Yawk, Roger (except against Boston). Come back again in 2008.
Yes, I think he will. And in 2009. But those are posts for another time.
I'm glad he's going to be back on the mound. I just don't much care for the uniform he'll be wearing.
Yes, I am a Red Sox fan of long standing, and so, in a good-natured, love-the-game way, I hate the Yankees. It's nothing personal; I've never hated any individual Yankee player (except Bernie Williams, and that was for baseball reasons). And it's not like Clemens hasn't worn the pinstripes before. This time, however, I really think he did not make the best choice of team for which to play.
Clemens made no secret that, were he to come back in 2007 (and I never, never doubted that he would), it would be with the Yankees, Red Sox, or Astros, where he had pitched since 2004.
Looking at these teams in turn:
Boston simply doesn't need him. The Sox have a huge lead in the AL East, and while no lead is ever big enough until the magic number reaches zero, it has to feel good to be sitting, not only on top, but seeing the Yanks down in fourth, sometimes fifth (dead last) place. So, while Clemens would have looked great -- perfect, really -- wearing the Fenway whites again, it was not necessary for the team to get him.
The Astros, well, I kinda figured this year was doomed. They staggered badly last year, only staying in contention because the Cardinals were so weak as well, and the 2007 team was going to be Biggio's march to 3000 hits. (Aside: and that's what the team is doing. Bidge is clearly on the very cusp of being washed up, and his presence atop the lineup is one reason why the team is doing so poorly. He's not all of the cause, but he isn't helping. Hurry up and get him to 3000, maybe around 3015 for the respectability of it, and then sit him down.) Clemens in Houston would help, sure, and he's got plenty of ancillary reasons to play there -- I'll detail in another post soon -- that I thought he would find compelling. But not so, this year.
So, the Yankees... nearly $200 million in payroll, and losing. This team simply has not come together like many expected, and has dug itself into so large a hole that nothing is likely to help. They paid a fortune for Rocket's services (and I honestly do not care how much he earns; one, he's worth it, and two, it was willingly offered. The Yankees can afford doing things like this), but it won't be enough. I'm not here to diagnose the Yankees' woes (and actually find it somewhat amusing, but that's a topic for another time), but I expect the 2008 team will be significantly different, and that Clemens won't be a part of it. There's still a lot of the season left to play, but it's not looking too well in the Bronx, Rocket or not.
So Clemens is coming back, but his impact will necessarily be limited. For that, and other reasons, I would have much rather seen him in Houston. Ah well; good luck in Noo Yawk, Roger (except against Boston). Come back again in 2008.
Yes, I think he will. And in 2009. But those are posts for another time.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
And the fog cleared
Success! And there was much rejoicing. My friend Steve was able to diagnose, repair, and recover everything. The old hard drive is dead as a doornail, but the new one did get a complete copy of everything before things went transwarp weird. And that disk is now live and the important stuff backed up.
Steve just rocks, man. Geeks rule.
Steve just rocks, man. Geeks rule.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Onward through the fog
Subsequent to the lightning strike, I pulled out all the PC gear from the office and diagnosed each component. For the most part everything worked. But my OS had been acting dodgy, and at a suggestion from a valued geek friend, I bought a new, bigger hard drive with the intent of giving it a clean install of the PC OS I use (Windows 2000) and porting over all the important data -- mainly the family picture archive, but there's some other things I want to keep as well. Some tax records, things I've written, assorted baseball data, a few games and apps, my eBay records.
An eternal pox upon the scabrous head of Bill Gates. I have no idea exactly what went wrong, and I'm certain that the drives are not cooked (the data is still there; there's no reason either one would be erased), but right now my PC isn't working at all. So tomorrow I'm off to Dallas for some personal tech service, which I hope will bring things back to life.
This is just so, so wrong. Technology is meant to serve us. I am so disgusted that I'm thisclose to simply bailing and buying a new PC box loaded with Vista. I hate that seven-year old technology is doing this. Thankfully I have my Mac, which rarely barfs, and never so badly.
Anyway... here's hoping that tomorrow brings recovery.
An eternal pox upon the scabrous head of Bill Gates. I have no idea exactly what went wrong, and I'm certain that the drives are not cooked (the data is still there; there's no reason either one would be erased), but right now my PC isn't working at all. So tomorrow I'm off to Dallas for some personal tech service, which I hope will bring things back to life.
This is just so, so wrong. Technology is meant to serve us. I am so disgusted that I'm thisclose to simply bailing and buying a new PC box loaded with Vista. I hate that seven-year old technology is doing this. Thankfully I have my Mac, which rarely barfs, and never so badly.
Anyway... here's hoping that tomorrow brings recovery.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Growing up
Despite my pleas that Amalie remain little, she always (rightfully) refuses and states that no, she will get bigger. And we agree that this is the way of things. I so love this kid.
This was going to be a short post about how, days ago, she got her first loose tooth, but that's already old news. Let's skip the standard thousand words and just go to the picture:
How ever did five and (almost) a half years go so quickly?
This was going to be a short post about how, days ago, she got her first loose tooth, but that's already old news. Let's skip the standard thousand words and just go to the picture:
The first to go.
How ever did five and (almost) a half years go so quickly?
Babies
In 2004, a mating pair of birds built a nest inside our front door foyer, well out of reach of the cats and nicely insulated from harsh weather. This was rather clever of them, as we had some lashing storms that year, yet they stayed nicely dry and out of the winds.
Our front doorway where the birds roost.
I don't know what species the birds are, if it's the same pair each year, or maybe offspring (how long do birds live?), or if it's even the same species of bird, but they've been back every year since. In 2006 they hatched two clutches of eggs.
They finally came back again this year, late April, and the baby birds hatched a couple of weeks ago. Today they started flying; by the middle of next week I expect them to be gone, and the mating pair will probably start on a second batch. They're kind of entertaining -- they twitter-tweet at the cats, sometimes even dive-bomb at them, despite that the cats have been here all along and have no chance at getting at the nest. I suppose this is typical bird-parent defensive posturing, but if it is the same original pair, don't they ever get acclimated? The cats are only a threat if the birds are dense enough to get near them. (Make no mistake, both cats can and have nailed other birds on occasion, but not the nesting birds.)
It's been fun watching the babies fly -- only two so far, the other two no doubt in a day or so -- and I like that they come back every year.
Our front doorway where the birds roost.I don't know what species the birds are, if it's the same pair each year, or maybe offspring (how long do birds live?), or if it's even the same species of bird, but they've been back every year since. In 2006 they hatched two clutches of eggs.
They finally came back again this year, late April, and the baby birds hatched a couple of weeks ago. Today they started flying; by the middle of next week I expect them to be gone, and the mating pair will probably start on a second batch. They're kind of entertaining -- they twitter-tweet at the cats, sometimes even dive-bomb at them, despite that the cats have been here all along and have no chance at getting at the nest. I suppose this is typical bird-parent defensive posturing, but if it is the same original pair, don't they ever get acclimated? The cats are only a threat if the birds are dense enough to get near them. (Make no mistake, both cats can and have nailed other birds on occasion, but not the nesting birds.)
It's been fun watching the babies fly -- only two so far, the other two no doubt in a day or so -- and I like that they come back every year.
The baby birds take a break from flying practice
(two obvious, one hunched down at right).
(two obvious, one hunched down at right).
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
It's the oil of bergamot that makes it great
A few years ago -- 2004, 2005, I don't recall -- my folks gave me a 200-count canister of Earl Grey teabags for Christmas, Twinings brand. Wonderful stuff; I drink coffee a few times a week, usually because Val is having a cuppa, but I generally prefer tea, and in the world of tea Earl Grey is my favorite. And, yes, central Texas winters are cold enough to enjoy a good, hot cup more than once a day. When the weather turns warm, I don't drink it nearly so often. So that canister has lasted me a good, long time.
I woke with a rough throat this morning, and decided that a cup of hot tea would be just the thing. And realized that, at last, I was down to my last bag of Earl Grey from that huge canister. I wasn't particularly wistful or longing about it, so I set up the kettle and my mug and waited for the whistle.
I set myself up with my tea, and the kids awoke, and I managed to drink about half of it while getting everything ready to take them to school. Got back, noticed the mug, and took it to the kitchen and dumped it.
Other than books, gifts rarely last so long. I can't say I miss my huge canister of tea -- the can itself was recycled months ago as the supply dwindled -- but it was good gift, and I enjoyed it plenty. Thanks, Mom & Dad.
I woke with a rough throat this morning, and decided that a cup of hot tea would be just the thing. And realized that, at last, I was down to my last bag of Earl Grey from that huge canister. I wasn't particularly wistful or longing about it, so I set up the kettle and my mug and waited for the whistle.
I set myself up with my tea, and the kids awoke, and I managed to drink about half of it while getting everything ready to take them to school. Got back, noticed the mug, and took it to the kitchen and dumped it.
Other than books, gifts rarely last so long. I can't say I miss my huge canister of tea -- the can itself was recycled months ago as the supply dwindled -- but it was good gift, and I enjoyed it plenty. Thanks, Mom & Dad.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Ultor Returneth
You've probably heard the old sawhorse that lightning never strikes the same place twice.
I tell you true: bullshit.
Just after 2:00 am Central on 16-May, our house was either struck by lightning, or the strike was so close that the internal wiring harness took a huge surge. I was up reading, and heard the storm growing. Checked the kids, both sleeping soundly, and decided to go out on our back deck, which is covered, to watch a bit. I had opened the back door, my left hand still on the knob, and was about to open the storm door when the world flashed white, followed (mere microseconds later) by a massively loud, crackling SNAP. It was all over in less than a second; I blinked my eyes to recover my sight. My left hand felt lightly itchy, though I ignored it. I heard an ululating beep, figured it must be the hard-wired smoke detectors, but it stopped before I could be certain. (I didn't imagine it because Val heard it too, the strike and beep had awakened her, which is rare.) The kids kept on sleeping, thankfully. I got the big flashlight in case we lost power -- and about ten minutes later, we did, for a very short time (a minute or two). The rain came down in bucketsful, about two inches deep in the front yard depression outside the front door.
I went to turn on the big TV to see the local weather... and got nothing but a hysteresis blur. I knew what that meant -- we'd taken the surge and were sure to have several electronics pieces ruined.
The bit about striking twice? We had the same thing happen (while we were not at home) in 2001. A lightning strike or surge, home electronics burned out all over the house. This time wasn't as bad, but we still took plenty of damage. I haven't inventoried everything yet, but both televisions are toast, both DVD players, the good stereo receiver, the cable modem (already replaced, which is how I'm posting this), and it looks like the wireless modem is dead as well. Later today I'll finish assessing the desktop computer array and the home entertainment speakers. Worst, though, is that the central air conditioning was knocked out -- just like last time, a control board got baked. Repair on that won't be complete until Thursday morning, but luckily it's been a very nice night so we have the windows open, and it's not stuffy or miserable. And, good news, our new Yamaha digital piano came through intact. (And yes, most items were plugged in through surge-protective power strips. I suspect the surge came through the cable television lines.)
Finally among the damage, the bathroom mirror. This is where I first noticed evidence of the 2001 strike -- the grounding in the back bathroom is incomplete, and when the first strike occurred it partly grounded itself out of studs and into the mirror. I went in to brush my teeth and noticed a coppery blot about the size of a golf ball just above the sink, and also found some of the reflective backing melted behind the faceplate of the electrical outlet. This time, the blot grew to the size of a grapefruit, and the mirror fractured around the outlet. So it'll get replaced for certain, and we'll probably have the wiring checked and repaired while we're at it.
The darker, central blot is from 2001, the expanded corona from 2007.
I showed the mirror to the kids when they awoke, pointing out that thunder is scary, but it's the lightning that can cause the damage. Carson (now 2 1/4) interpreted my description as though the mirror had been smashed by Lightning McQueen.
This is a major pain in the ass, though insurance will cover some of it. Partly, though, I'm looking forward to replacing some old stuff and being forced into re-doing the office desktop setup, plus having the chance to vacuum up lots of dusty nooks otherwise inaccessible. And we'll look into getting lightning rods installed.
And I'm certain that my hand, by being on the metal doorknob when the bolt hit wherever, got a kiss of electrons, probably coupled in by the immediate e-field, so I'll never fear mere static again. I've held the lightning.
Two strikes in six years -- I figure we must now be waaaaay out into the far end of the probability curve, and a third strike would be inconceivable.
But if we do get hit again -- screw it, we're moving.
I tell you true: bullshit.
Just after 2:00 am Central on 16-May, our house was either struck by lightning, or the strike was so close that the internal wiring harness took a huge surge. I was up reading, and heard the storm growing. Checked the kids, both sleeping soundly, and decided to go out on our back deck, which is covered, to watch a bit. I had opened the back door, my left hand still on the knob, and was about to open the storm door when the world flashed white, followed (mere microseconds later) by a massively loud, crackling SNAP. It was all over in less than a second; I blinked my eyes to recover my sight. My left hand felt lightly itchy, though I ignored it. I heard an ululating beep, figured it must be the hard-wired smoke detectors, but it stopped before I could be certain. (I didn't imagine it because Val heard it too, the strike and beep had awakened her, which is rare.) The kids kept on sleeping, thankfully. I got the big flashlight in case we lost power -- and about ten minutes later, we did, for a very short time (a minute or two). The rain came down in bucketsful, about two inches deep in the front yard depression outside the front door.
I went to turn on the big TV to see the local weather... and got nothing but a hysteresis blur. I knew what that meant -- we'd taken the surge and were sure to have several electronics pieces ruined.
The bit about striking twice? We had the same thing happen (while we were not at home) in 2001. A lightning strike or surge, home electronics burned out all over the house. This time wasn't as bad, but we still took plenty of damage. I haven't inventoried everything yet, but both televisions are toast, both DVD players, the good stereo receiver, the cable modem (already replaced, which is how I'm posting this), and it looks like the wireless modem is dead as well. Later today I'll finish assessing the desktop computer array and the home entertainment speakers. Worst, though, is that the central air conditioning was knocked out -- just like last time, a control board got baked. Repair on that won't be complete until Thursday morning, but luckily it's been a very nice night so we have the windows open, and it's not stuffy or miserable. And, good news, our new Yamaha digital piano came through intact. (And yes, most items were plugged in through surge-protective power strips. I suspect the surge came through the cable television lines.)
Finally among the damage, the bathroom mirror. This is where I first noticed evidence of the 2001 strike -- the grounding in the back bathroom is incomplete, and when the first strike occurred it partly grounded itself out of studs and into the mirror. I went in to brush my teeth and noticed a coppery blot about the size of a golf ball just above the sink, and also found some of the reflective backing melted behind the faceplate of the electrical outlet. This time, the blot grew to the size of a grapefruit, and the mirror fractured around the outlet. So it'll get replaced for certain, and we'll probably have the wiring checked and repaired while we're at it.
The mirror crack'd.
The darker, central blot is from 2001, the expanded corona from 2007.I showed the mirror to the kids when they awoke, pointing out that thunder is scary, but it's the lightning that can cause the damage. Carson (now 2 1/4) interpreted my description as though the mirror had been smashed by Lightning McQueen.
This is a major pain in the ass, though insurance will cover some of it. Partly, though, I'm looking forward to replacing some old stuff and being forced into re-doing the office desktop setup, plus having the chance to vacuum up lots of dusty nooks otherwise inaccessible. And we'll look into getting lightning rods installed.
And I'm certain that my hand, by being on the metal doorknob when the bolt hit wherever, got a kiss of electrons, probably coupled in by the immediate e-field, so I'll never fear mere static again. I've held the lightning.
Two strikes in six years -- I figure we must now be waaaaay out into the far end of the probability curve, and a third strike would be inconceivable.
But if we do get hit again -- screw it, we're moving.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Catching Up
Foo. I just went the whole of April with only one post. Shame on me.
So there'll be much catching-up in the next few days. The Clemens signing. Strawberry picking (heading out in a few minutes). Our new piano. A fun baseball book-signing. Amalie's tee-ball, which I'm helping coach. New lawn mower to go with Val's new and improved lawn.
But I'll start with my finger. I'd been trimming the old nail, front and back (yes, it feels weird), as it grew along. Finally, in late April, it was down to a little arc, and peeling away from the underflesh on all sides; the pink underneath was the size of a crumb. I couldn't wait for the darn thing to finally fall off -- whenever it snagged (and despite being very careful, sometimes it would) it hurt, more a twinge than real pain, but nothing appealing.
Yesterday, Sunday, I took a nap while Carson was enjoying an extra-long one (he was sick on Saturday evening so needed the extra rest). Woke up, sat down to watch a bit of baseball, pulled Amie into my lap -- and noticed my fingernail bit was, at last, gone. Gone! YES!
I still have a ridge of the hardened underflesh that needs to finish outgrowing before my baby nail will push forth and be ready for its first trimming. I've never given much thought to nail growth rate -- I know my toenails grow slower than my fingernails, but have never timed either -- but this time I couldn't ignore it. Granted my right index finger had been messed up with the infection, but if the growth rate stayed normal, and it appeared to be steady relative to my other carpal digits, then my fingernails completely regrow in about 3-4 months.
I still don't yet have the a functional fingernail but at least I can stop worrying about getting it snagged.
So there'll be much catching-up in the next few days. The Clemens signing. Strawberry picking (heading out in a few minutes). Our new piano. A fun baseball book-signing. Amalie's tee-ball, which I'm helping coach. New lawn mower to go with Val's new and improved lawn.
But I'll start with my finger. I'd been trimming the old nail, front and back (yes, it feels weird), as it grew along. Finally, in late April, it was down to a little arc, and peeling away from the underflesh on all sides; the pink underneath was the size of a crumb. I couldn't wait for the darn thing to finally fall off -- whenever it snagged (and despite being very careful, sometimes it would) it hurt, more a twinge than real pain, but nothing appealing.
Yesterday, Sunday, I took a nap while Carson was enjoying an extra-long one (he was sick on Saturday evening so needed the extra rest). Woke up, sat down to watch a bit of baseball, pulled Amie into my lap -- and noticed my fingernail bit was, at last, gone. Gone! YES!
I still have a ridge of the hardened underflesh that needs to finish outgrowing before my baby nail will push forth and be ready for its first trimming. I've never given much thought to nail growth rate -- I know my toenails grow slower than my fingernails, but have never timed either -- but this time I couldn't ignore it. Granted my right index finger had been messed up with the infection, but if the growth rate stayed normal, and it appeared to be steady relative to my other carpal digits, then my fingernails completely regrow in about 3-4 months.
I still don't yet have the a functional fingernail but at least I can stop worrying about getting it snagged.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Is Jackie Worthy?
With the impending 60th anniversary (Sunday, April 15) of Jackie Robinson's major league debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers, and MLB's concurrent celebration thereof, the question came up: would Jackie Robinson be in the Hall Of Fame if he were not the first black ballplayer?
Overlooking the historical inaccuracy in the question, the quick answer is Yes, absolutely. But let us take a long walk to get there, including some of the sidebar issues that arise.
Here's a look at Jackie, in the format I used for the Veterans Committee 2007 Hall ballot candidates a few weeks ago:
Playing career: 10 seasons; Brooklyn Dodgers (1947-56), plus one season with the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues. Robinson spent three years, immediately preceding his professional baseball career, in military service during WWII; this is something that many players did, lose time to the war effort, but it surely took at least a few seasons off his career. No baseball credit earned for this, but he deserves a smart salute for his service.
Standout season(s): 1949 (.342/.432/.528, 16 HR, 12 triples, 124 RBI, 37 SB, 152 adjOPS).
Career stat highlight: .409 OBP (39th all-time, around 30th when he retired).
Major honors and statistical crowns: 1949 NL MVP, 1947 Major League ROY (inaugural award), six All-Star selections, batting average once, OBP once, stolen bases twice. Member of the 1955 World Series champion Dodgers and five other NL champion teams (1947, '49, '52-53, '56). Consistently in the Top Five or Top Ten of many of the good offensive categories. Jersey #42 retired by the Dodgers in 1972 and by all of Major League Baseball in 1997 (50th anniversary of his debut; other than special events like the upcoming 60th anniversary, the last remaining active player grandfathered to wear #42 is Mariano Rivera). The Rookie Of The Year Award is now named in his honor. There's a Jackie Robinson Parkway in Brooklyn. The Mets' new park, scheduled to open in 2009, will include a Jackie Robinson Rotunda at the main entrance. Generally recognized as the first black to play in the major leagues; that's not quite accurate -- the Walker brothers, Moses and Welday, predated him by decades -- but Jackie is the one who had the lasting, profound, and positive effect of destroying the color barrier. I realize that, eventually, it looks like MLB is laying it on with a trowel, so thick are the tributes and commemorations of Jackie Robinson, his career, and his impact, but he really does merit all of it.
Outside of baseball, Robinson was awarded (posthumously, unfortunately, but wherever he is now he probably appreciated them anyway) the Presidential Medal Of Freedom in 1984 and the Congressional Gold Medal in 2003.
Primary position: second base.
BBWAA Hall voting: won election to the Hall on his first ballot in 1962, with 77.50%.
Robinson was also the pre-eminent second baseman of his era. Here's the primary 2Bmen for all 16 major league teams in 1949, Jackie's MVP year (yeah, that makes it a bit easier on him, but I have a point to make after the data).
NL (MVP: Robinson):
Dodgers - Jackie Robinson: .342/.432/.528, 152 adjOPS, 133 runs created.
Braves - Eddie Stanky: .285/.417/.358, 114 adjOPS, 75 RC.
Cardinals - Red Schonedienst: .297/.351/.356, 86 adjOPS, 80 RC.
Cubs - Emil Verban: .289/.309/.327, 73 adjOPS, 34 RC.
Giants - Hank Thompson: .280/.377/.444, 119 adjOPS, 46 RC.
Phillies - Eddie Miller: .207/.294/.320, 67 adjOPS, 24 RC.
Pirates - Monty Basgall: .218/.291/.273, 50 adjOPS, 24 RC.
Reds - Jimmy Bloodworth: .261/.304/.385, 83 adjOPS, 53 RC.
AL (MVP: Ted Williams):
Athletics - Pete Suder: .267/.306/.416, 93 adjOPS, 56 RC.
Browns - Jerry Priddy: .290/.382/.414, 107 adjOPS, 86 RC.
Indians - Joe Gordon: .251/.355/.407, 103 adjOPS, 77 RC.
Red Sox - Bobby Doerr: .309/.393/.497, 128 adjOPS, 106 RC.
Senators - Al Kozar: .269/.321/.357, 81 adjOPS, 40 RC.
Tigers - Neil Berry: .237/.299/.271, 51 adjOPS, 26 RC.
White Sox - Cass Michaels: .308/.417/.421, 125 adjOPS, 98 RC.
Yankees - Jerry Coleman: .275/.367/.358, 92 adjOPS, 58 RC.
Here's the point: it's not even close. Among his second basemen peers (in this one season), only Doerr (also in the Hall) and Michaels are within shouting distance (and they were both in the other league). Robinson was easily the best second baseman in MLB, and he sustained that distinction for several more seasons. And it wasn't just his brilliant hitting; he was pretty much the best with the glove as well, leading the NL in double plays and fielding percentage several times. Jackie retired before the Gold Glove awards were established, but had there been such an award in his time he'd probably have picked up a couple for the home trophy case.
Jackie really was that good a player. Add in his immense social value, and it's no contest; he is eminently Hall worthy.
And now, some of the sidebars...
What about Jackie's years in the Negro Leagues?
Robinson only played one season in the Negro Leagues, with the 1945 Kansas City Monarchs. You can check here to see his recorded stats for that year. He was, no surprise really, devastatingly good; in addition to that .387 AVG, his SLG was .613, and we cannot know (from this limited data) what his exact OBP was but it was likely well above .400 for the season. Jackie only played in 47 games -- whether that was a function of the official league schedule or him not joining the team until later in the summer isn't clear -- and there's no precedent for simply adding his 1945 stats to his later MLB stats. That's not important anyway; it's but one season, it was (typically) excellent, and it certainly doesn't weaken his playing legacy.
Jackie played 1945 with the Monarchs and debuted with the Dodgers in 1947 -- what about his 1946 season?
Dodgers GM Branch Rickey broke in Robinson with his top minor league affiliate, the Montreal Royals of the International League, in 1946, partly on the basis that Canada wouldn't be so racially harsh on the man. Jackie won the league batting title with a .349 AVG (.462 SLG, approximately .461 OBP -- had 92 walks), led in runs scored with 113, and was second in stolen bases with 40. The Royals stormed the league, finishing with a 100-54 record for first place by +18.5 games, knocked off Newark (four games to two) in the first round of the playoffs, pushed aside Syracuse (4-1) for the league title, and then defeated the Louisville Colonels of the American Association, 4-2, for the Junior World Series championship. Jackie doesn't get all the credit for this spectacular season (scroll down for Royals player stats), but he was a huge (and league leading; always good) contributor. As history records, he didn't come back in 1947.
All of which is just that much more evidence that Jackie Robinson could play and do so exceptionally well. Jackie was 27 in 1946, and studies have shown this to be the most typical peak playing age.
In evaluating Robinson for the Hall, should his Negro League stats count? What about modern-day Japanese expatriate players? Is their situation comparable?
The Hall's mission statement (which is, I suppose, as close as we can get to an actual charter, at least on line), declares that it "...(honors) those who have made outstanding contributions to our National Pastime" -- and Robinson certainly did that, with a magnitude of impact equalled by few others -- and "(h)onoring, by enshrinement, those individuals who had exceptional careers, and recognizing others for their significant achievements" -- and no matter how we define "exceptional", Robinson nails this slightly different version as well.
Under the Rules For Election, one of the requirements for eligibility is "(p)layer must have played in each of ten (10) Major League championship seasons..." -- there's a couple of conditions this and the other requirements define, but one thing we can boil out is that a candidate must have played in a major league as considered by the Hall. In 2007, this includes only the two constituent leagues within the organization known as Major League Baseball; other, long-defunct leagues have also been recognized as holding "major league" status, such as the Federal League and several different leagues in the 19th century. Don't ask me how such distinctions are made; it's not really clear. But, what is clear is that the various leagues which operated under the general Negro Leagues banner (there were specific league names; Robinson's 1945 Monarchs were in the Negro American League), and the various leagues in Japan, have not been granted that recognition. The Hall, to its credit, has made earnest and welcome outreach efforts to recognize, elect, and induct the best players from the Negro Leagues, for the past several decades; but candidates considered specifically for their careers in the Negro Leagues (unlike short-timers like Robinson or Hank Aaron) have never appeared on the annual Baseball Writers of America Association ballot. The Hall's primary electoral college (the BBWAA) considers players from major leagues, and the various Negro Leagues have not been recognized as such, at least for the Hall's purposes. I do think this is a good thing for the purpose it serves, that primary Negro League players have not been conflated with MLB players on the ballot, as comparison and contrast between the two player pools would have been, not exactly difficult (challenging, certainly, but possible), but somewhat awkward. Primary Negro League players have been considered under separate committee formats, and while it's not the sort of system that pleases everyone, it has worked pretty well and honored some more than deserving individuals.
So, no, Robinson's stats from his one season with the Monarchs really shouldn't "count", and in his particular case it's such a small amount of data that it doesn't really change his candidacy (though it was a great year, and so if considered, would simply make him look better), but to be honest, I have no idea if the BBWAA electors either can, or want to, ignore such "non major league" data when it is available. The Negro Leagues folded in the early 1960s (and, in a way, Jackie helped bring about this demise), so there's not really any more candidates that the BBWAA could consider who have Negro League stats buried within the far reaches of their careers (Aaron was the last former Negro League player to retire from MLB). But what about future candidates from Japan or other parts of Asia/Pacifica where organized baseball is played? Park arrived in 1994, Nomo in 1995, and Suzuki became the first significant non-pitcher import in 2001; and some of these men, the Asian Invasion, bring along sterling professional careers in their homelands before hooking up with MLB teams. If and when any of them reach the Hall ballot, what weight will their pre-MLB careers carry? Strictly speaking, it should be no weight at all, but right now there's no telling what the voters might do, or if the Hall might expand its mission to encourage such consideration of international playing careers. (Note, I don't think Park or Nomo is Hall-worthy, even factoring in some pioneering value; I mention them as being the first of the invasion, and sufficiently recent that no one has yet arrived on the Hall's ballot screening committee's agenda. It'll be a few years still before any Asian import player stands as a viable future candidate. Ichiro certainly looks to be on the right path though, and it really wouldn't shock me if he plays long enough within MLB to seal the deal, maybe reach 3000 hits, his previous 1278 hits in Japan notwithstanding. His years with Orix simply won't matter. It's likely that some other player will have to be the acid test for offshore playing time factoring in, officially or not.)
(Tangential topic: the official name of the Hall is The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. It's purview is baseball as played within the United States, hence "National". Yes, there is a team in Toronto and there was one in Montreal, but MLB and its franchises operate under governance of New York State law for league-wide matters. So Blue Jays players or former Expos players will have full consideration by the Hall in each man's due time. Even Vladimir Guerrero, the man with the Russian given name, the Latino surname, who played the American game in the French part of Canada, can earn a Hall plaque. And probably will, too.)
If Jackie is Hall-class, isn't Don Mattingly also?
In general I really despise the "if Player A, then Player B" type of argument for supporting Player B for the Hall (and when Player B is Pete Rose, it should be a hanging offense). It's a cheap method and tends to be applied to players whom are very much not similar, except that a few of their career totals match up. So let's destroy the notion that Mattingly can get in because Robinson did.
First, position matters. Robinson actually made his famous debut at first base, but played the bulk of his career at second, and played more at third than he did at first. The Hall recognizes him as a second baseman. Good-hitting 2Bmen are harder to find than good-hitting 1Bmen, so the general level of excellence with the bat is higher at first than at second when the Hall takes a look. Robinson was one of the best-hitting second basemen in major league history; among first basemen, Mattingly makes a rather faint showing. So, Robinson worthy, Mattingly not.
Second, era matters. Robinson's time, the 1950s, was a time of lesser offense (though not nearly as much as the 1960s were). Mattingly's 1980s were a low point between the 1970s and the 1990s, but there were a few more runs scored (comparing their MVP seasons: 1949 NL, 4.54 runs/game; 1985 AL, 4.56 runs/game. It's close enough to call it a wash for our purposes). Don had a few really great peak seasons, but then the back injury derailed him and, when the powerball 90s came along, he was league average and unimpressive. Jackie made his mark (six great seasons, offensively, out of ten). Mattingly had four great seasons and two very good ones (out of 14, though one was a cuppa coffee), but there's an obvious cliff in the middle of his career where he got injured and fell off. Robinson sustained his peak better.
Best full seasons by adjusted OPS:
Robinson: 154, 152, 150, 140, 139, 136.
Mattingly: 161, 156, 156, 146, 133, 128.
Best Runs Created per 27 outs:
Robinson: 8.51, 8.37, 7.90, 7.79, 7.33, 7.14.
Mattingly: 8.96, 8.01, 7.96, 7.87, 6.21, 6.10.
Getting those numbers from a second baseman is harder than getting them from a first baseman.
On a career basis (and not adjusting for era or anything else), Robinson edges Mattingly in slugging, .474 to .471, and utterly tramples him in on-base percentage, .409 to .358. That career OBP alone indicates that Robinson is a seriously good player -- currently it ranks 39th in history, and was around 30th when Jackie retired.
Would Jackie be in the Hall if he were a white man?
I think so, though it probably would have taken a few more ballots -- he was a genuinely great player, though his career was short.
It counts for nothing, but thinking "what if" -- as in, what if Jackie hadn't had to encounter the color barrier? -- would have given him only two more seasons, at most, in the major leagues. Prior to 1945, he was in the military, and I refuse to consider taking that away from him and postulating more seasons on the field. Two more seasons would have looked good, to be sure, but Robinson didn't and doesn't need them. Great player; Hall worthy. Then add in the impact he made on baseball (all for the better) and society in general, and his candidacy is overwhelming.
But, as a Hall honoree, he doesn't need that enormous bonus value, and it's worth noting that his Hall plaque doesn't mention it. And really, it doesn't have to. He earned that plaque, fairly, on the field. That MLB continues to honor him and celebrate his lasting impact on the game underscores his greater influence beyond his hitting and fielding. The Hall plaque honors his playing greatness. The continuing fanning of the Robinson flame, while somewhat smacking of marketing, is worthwhile, because his story is important enough to tell and re-tell, and keep in living memory.
Overlooking the historical inaccuracy in the question, the quick answer is Yes, absolutely. But let us take a long walk to get there, including some of the sidebar issues that arise.
Here's a look at Jackie, in the format I used for the Veterans Committee 2007 Hall ballot candidates a few weeks ago:
Playing career: 10 seasons; Brooklyn Dodgers (1947-56), plus one season with the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues. Robinson spent three years, immediately preceding his professional baseball career, in military service during WWII; this is something that many players did, lose time to the war effort, but it surely took at least a few seasons off his career. No baseball credit earned for this, but he deserves a smart salute for his service.
Standout season(s): 1949 (.342/.432/.528, 16 HR, 12 triples, 124 RBI, 37 SB, 152 adjOPS).
Career stat highlight: .409 OBP (39th all-time, around 30th when he retired).
Major honors and statistical crowns: 1949 NL MVP, 1947 Major League ROY (inaugural award), six All-Star selections, batting average once, OBP once, stolen bases twice. Member of the 1955 World Series champion Dodgers and five other NL champion teams (1947, '49, '52-53, '56). Consistently in the Top Five or Top Ten of many of the good offensive categories. Jersey #42 retired by the Dodgers in 1972 and by all of Major League Baseball in 1997 (50th anniversary of his debut; other than special events like the upcoming 60th anniversary, the last remaining active player grandfathered to wear #42 is Mariano Rivera). The Rookie Of The Year Award is now named in his honor. There's a Jackie Robinson Parkway in Brooklyn. The Mets' new park, scheduled to open in 2009, will include a Jackie Robinson Rotunda at the main entrance. Generally recognized as the first black to play in the major leagues; that's not quite accurate -- the Walker brothers, Moses and Welday, predated him by decades -- but Jackie is the one who had the lasting, profound, and positive effect of destroying the color barrier. I realize that, eventually, it looks like MLB is laying it on with a trowel, so thick are the tributes and commemorations of Jackie Robinson, his career, and his impact, but he really does merit all of it.
Outside of baseball, Robinson was awarded (posthumously, unfortunately, but wherever he is now he probably appreciated them anyway) the Presidential Medal Of Freedom in 1984 and the Congressional Gold Medal in 2003.
Primary position: second base.
BBWAA Hall voting: won election to the Hall on his first ballot in 1962, with 77.50%.
Robinson was also the pre-eminent second baseman of his era. Here's the primary 2Bmen for all 16 major league teams in 1949, Jackie's MVP year (yeah, that makes it a bit easier on him, but I have a point to make after the data).
NL (MVP: Robinson):
Dodgers - Jackie Robinson: .342/.432/.528, 152 adjOPS, 133 runs created.
Braves - Eddie Stanky: .285/.417/.358, 114 adjOPS, 75 RC.
Cardinals - Red Schonedienst: .297/.351/.356, 86 adjOPS, 80 RC.
Cubs - Emil Verban: .289/.309/.327, 73 adjOPS, 34 RC.
Giants - Hank Thompson: .280/.377/.444, 119 adjOPS, 46 RC.
Phillies - Eddie Miller: .207/.294/.320, 67 adjOPS, 24 RC.
Pirates - Monty Basgall: .218/.291/.273, 50 adjOPS, 24 RC.
Reds - Jimmy Bloodworth: .261/.304/.385, 83 adjOPS, 53 RC.
AL (MVP: Ted Williams):
Athletics - Pete Suder: .267/.306/.416, 93 adjOPS, 56 RC.
Browns - Jerry Priddy: .290/.382/.414, 107 adjOPS, 86 RC.
Indians - Joe Gordon: .251/.355/.407, 103 adjOPS, 77 RC.
Red Sox - Bobby Doerr: .309/.393/.497, 128 adjOPS, 106 RC.
Senators - Al Kozar: .269/.321/.357, 81 adjOPS, 40 RC.
Tigers - Neil Berry: .237/.299/.271, 51 adjOPS, 26 RC.
White Sox - Cass Michaels: .308/.417/.421, 125 adjOPS, 98 RC.
Yankees - Jerry Coleman: .275/.367/.358, 92 adjOPS, 58 RC.
Here's the point: it's not even close. Among his second basemen peers (in this one season), only Doerr (also in the Hall) and Michaels are within shouting distance (and they were both in the other league). Robinson was easily the best second baseman in MLB, and he sustained that distinction for several more seasons. And it wasn't just his brilliant hitting; he was pretty much the best with the glove as well, leading the NL in double plays and fielding percentage several times. Jackie retired before the Gold Glove awards were established, but had there been such an award in his time he'd probably have picked up a couple for the home trophy case.
Jackie really was that good a player. Add in his immense social value, and it's no contest; he is eminently Hall worthy.
And now, some of the sidebars...
What about Jackie's years in the Negro Leagues?
Robinson only played one season in the Negro Leagues, with the 1945 Kansas City Monarchs. You can check here to see his recorded stats for that year. He was, no surprise really, devastatingly good; in addition to that .387 AVG, his SLG was .613, and we cannot know (from this limited data) what his exact OBP was but it was likely well above .400 for the season. Jackie only played in 47 games -- whether that was a function of the official league schedule or him not joining the team until later in the summer isn't clear -- and there's no precedent for simply adding his 1945 stats to his later MLB stats. That's not important anyway; it's but one season, it was (typically) excellent, and it certainly doesn't weaken his playing legacy.
Jackie played 1945 with the Monarchs and debuted with the Dodgers in 1947 -- what about his 1946 season?
Dodgers GM Branch Rickey broke in Robinson with his top minor league affiliate, the Montreal Royals of the International League, in 1946, partly on the basis that Canada wouldn't be so racially harsh on the man. Jackie won the league batting title with a .349 AVG (.462 SLG, approximately .461 OBP -- had 92 walks), led in runs scored with 113, and was second in stolen bases with 40. The Royals stormed the league, finishing with a 100-54 record for first place by +18.5 games, knocked off Newark (four games to two) in the first round of the playoffs, pushed aside Syracuse (4-1) for the league title, and then defeated the Louisville Colonels of the American Association, 4-2, for the Junior World Series championship. Jackie doesn't get all the credit for this spectacular season (scroll down for Royals player stats), but he was a huge (and league leading; always good) contributor. As history records, he didn't come back in 1947.
All of which is just that much more evidence that Jackie Robinson could play and do so exceptionally well. Jackie was 27 in 1946, and studies have shown this to be the most typical peak playing age.
In evaluating Robinson for the Hall, should his Negro League stats count? What about modern-day Japanese expatriate players? Is their situation comparable?
The Hall's mission statement (which is, I suppose, as close as we can get to an actual charter, at least on line), declares that it "...(honors) those who have made outstanding contributions to our National Pastime" -- and Robinson certainly did that, with a magnitude of impact equalled by few others -- and "(h)onoring, by enshrinement, those individuals who had exceptional careers, and recognizing others for their significant achievements" -- and no matter how we define "exceptional", Robinson nails this slightly different version as well.
Under the Rules For Election, one of the requirements for eligibility is "(p)layer must have played in each of ten (10) Major League championship seasons..." -- there's a couple of conditions this and the other requirements define, but one thing we can boil out is that a candidate must have played in a major league as considered by the Hall. In 2007, this includes only the two constituent leagues within the organization known as Major League Baseball; other, long-defunct leagues have also been recognized as holding "major league" status, such as the Federal League and several different leagues in the 19th century. Don't ask me how such distinctions are made; it's not really clear. But, what is clear is that the various leagues which operated under the general Negro Leagues banner (there were specific league names; Robinson's 1945 Monarchs were in the Negro American League), and the various leagues in Japan, have not been granted that recognition. The Hall, to its credit, has made earnest and welcome outreach efforts to recognize, elect, and induct the best players from the Negro Leagues, for the past several decades; but candidates considered specifically for their careers in the Negro Leagues (unlike short-timers like Robinson or Hank Aaron) have never appeared on the annual Baseball Writers of America Association ballot. The Hall's primary electoral college (the BBWAA) considers players from major leagues, and the various Negro Leagues have not been recognized as such, at least for the Hall's purposes. I do think this is a good thing for the purpose it serves, that primary Negro League players have not been conflated with MLB players on the ballot, as comparison and contrast between the two player pools would have been, not exactly difficult (challenging, certainly, but possible), but somewhat awkward. Primary Negro League players have been considered under separate committee formats, and while it's not the sort of system that pleases everyone, it has worked pretty well and honored some more than deserving individuals.
So, no, Robinson's stats from his one season with the Monarchs really shouldn't "count", and in his particular case it's such a small amount of data that it doesn't really change his candidacy (though it was a great year, and so if considered, would simply make him look better), but to be honest, I have no idea if the BBWAA electors either can, or want to, ignore such "non major league" data when it is available. The Negro Leagues folded in the early 1960s (and, in a way, Jackie helped bring about this demise), so there's not really any more candidates that the BBWAA could consider who have Negro League stats buried within the far reaches of their careers (Aaron was the last former Negro League player to retire from MLB). But what about future candidates from Japan or other parts of Asia/Pacifica where organized baseball is played? Park arrived in 1994, Nomo in 1995, and Suzuki became the first significant non-pitcher import in 2001; and some of these men, the Asian Invasion, bring along sterling professional careers in their homelands before hooking up with MLB teams. If and when any of them reach the Hall ballot, what weight will their pre-MLB careers carry? Strictly speaking, it should be no weight at all, but right now there's no telling what the voters might do, or if the Hall might expand its mission to encourage such consideration of international playing careers. (Note, I don't think Park or Nomo is Hall-worthy, even factoring in some pioneering value; I mention them as being the first of the invasion, and sufficiently recent that no one has yet arrived on the Hall's ballot screening committee's agenda. It'll be a few years still before any Asian import player stands as a viable future candidate. Ichiro certainly looks to be on the right path though, and it really wouldn't shock me if he plays long enough within MLB to seal the deal, maybe reach 3000 hits, his previous 1278 hits in Japan notwithstanding. His years with Orix simply won't matter. It's likely that some other player will have to be the acid test for offshore playing time factoring in, officially or not.)
(Tangential topic: the official name of the Hall is The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. It's purview is baseball as played within the United States, hence "National". Yes, there is a team in Toronto and there was one in Montreal, but MLB and its franchises operate under governance of New York State law for league-wide matters. So Blue Jays players or former Expos players will have full consideration by the Hall in each man's due time. Even Vladimir Guerrero, the man with the Russian given name, the Latino surname, who played the American game in the French part of Canada, can earn a Hall plaque. And probably will, too.)
If Jackie is Hall-class, isn't Don Mattingly also?
In general I really despise the "if Player A, then Player B" type of argument for supporting Player B for the Hall (and when Player B is Pete Rose, it should be a hanging offense). It's a cheap method and tends to be applied to players whom are very much not similar, except that a few of their career totals match up. So let's destroy the notion that Mattingly can get in because Robinson did.
First, position matters. Robinson actually made his famous debut at first base, but played the bulk of his career at second, and played more at third than he did at first. The Hall recognizes him as a second baseman. Good-hitting 2Bmen are harder to find than good-hitting 1Bmen, so the general level of excellence with the bat is higher at first than at second when the Hall takes a look. Robinson was one of the best-hitting second basemen in major league history; among first basemen, Mattingly makes a rather faint showing. So, Robinson worthy, Mattingly not.
Second, era matters. Robinson's time, the 1950s, was a time of lesser offense (though not nearly as much as the 1960s were). Mattingly's 1980s were a low point between the 1970s and the 1990s, but there were a few more runs scored (comparing their MVP seasons: 1949 NL, 4.54 runs/game; 1985 AL, 4.56 runs/game. It's close enough to call it a wash for our purposes). Don had a few really great peak seasons, but then the back injury derailed him and, when the powerball 90s came along, he was league average and unimpressive. Jackie made his mark (six great seasons, offensively, out of ten). Mattingly had four great seasons and two very good ones (out of 14, though one was a cuppa coffee), but there's an obvious cliff in the middle of his career where he got injured and fell off. Robinson sustained his peak better.
Best full seasons by adjusted OPS:
Robinson: 154, 152, 150, 140, 139, 136.
Mattingly: 161, 156, 156, 146, 133, 128.
Best Runs Created per 27 outs:
Robinson: 8.51, 8.37, 7.90, 7.79, 7.33, 7.14.
Mattingly: 8.96, 8.01, 7.96, 7.87, 6.21, 6.10.
Getting those numbers from a second baseman is harder than getting them from a first baseman.
On a career basis (and not adjusting for era or anything else), Robinson edges Mattingly in slugging, .474 to .471, and utterly tramples him in on-base percentage, .409 to .358. That career OBP alone indicates that Robinson is a seriously good player -- currently it ranks 39th in history, and was around 30th when Jackie retired.
Would Jackie be in the Hall if he were a white man?
I think so, though it probably would have taken a few more ballots -- he was a genuinely great player, though his career was short.
It counts for nothing, but thinking "what if" -- as in, what if Jackie hadn't had to encounter the color barrier? -- would have given him only two more seasons, at most, in the major leagues. Prior to 1945, he was in the military, and I refuse to consider taking that away from him and postulating more seasons on the field. Two more seasons would have looked good, to be sure, but Robinson didn't and doesn't need them. Great player; Hall worthy. Then add in the impact he made on baseball (all for the better) and society in general, and his candidacy is overwhelming.
But, as a Hall honoree, he doesn't need that enormous bonus value, and it's worth noting that his Hall plaque doesn't mention it. And really, it doesn't have to. He earned that plaque, fairly, on the field. That MLB continues to honor him and celebrate his lasting impact on the game underscores his greater influence beyond his hitting and fielding. The Hall plaque honors his playing greatness. The continuing fanning of the Robinson flame, while somewhat smacking of marketing, is worthwhile, because his story is important enough to tell and re-tell, and keep in living memory.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Bulky Trash Time
Twice a year, Austin has bulky trash collection -- as far as I know it is ongoing continuously, but it takes a while to cover the entire city, so our neighborhood comes up in the rotation about every six months. We get a postcard in the mail announcing our week; they don't publish neighborhoods and dates on the official website, and when I once asked about this, was told it was to discourage scavengers. This was really silly, as (a) the scavengers find out anyway and (b) since they take a lot of stuff, they ultimately make the official collection an easier task on city resources. That's a bureaucracy for you, I guess.
Our lawnmower had pretty much given up the ghost at the end of the 2006 mowing season, and I'd reached the limits of what maintenance I could perform that would help. So, I bought a new one at Sears (another gas-powered, and likely my last one; the next will be electric), picked it up this week, and brought it home. Assembly was trivial -- unfold and lock the handle and it's ready to, well, have the battery charged, but by tomorrow I'll probably be cutting the grass. The garage is (like usual) a bit too full of stuff, so Val and I decided that the perfect way to make room was to remove the old mower and set it atop the driveway in anticipation of next week's bulky trash pickup.
Val parked it streetside (handle pointing out, making the "take me" aspect obvious) around, oh, 3:30 this afternoon. She took Amie to dance and soccer practice a little before 4:30, and the mower was still there. Carson awoke around 5:45, and I took him to over to the park (he loves kicking around the soccer ball; too bad there's no 2-year-old league) at maybe 6:00. And the mower was gone. I hadn't even drained the gas (though it was likely close to empty anyway).
And this is how bulky trash always goes: the scavengers take a lot of the stuff, which really is the point. Perhaps some industrious home businessman will refurbish the mower and sell it (yay, capitalism), which is fine by me. I try to be conscientious about disposing of items, but the old mower was beyond my skills, and I knew someone else would be ready to take it away.
I just didn't think it would be that fast.
Our lawnmower had pretty much given up the ghost at the end of the 2006 mowing season, and I'd reached the limits of what maintenance I could perform that would help. So, I bought a new one at Sears (another gas-powered, and likely my last one; the next will be electric), picked it up this week, and brought it home. Assembly was trivial -- unfold and lock the handle and it's ready to, well, have the battery charged, but by tomorrow I'll probably be cutting the grass. The garage is (like usual) a bit too full of stuff, so Val and I decided that the perfect way to make room was to remove the old mower and set it atop the driveway in anticipation of next week's bulky trash pickup.
Val parked it streetside (handle pointing out, making the "take me" aspect obvious) around, oh, 3:30 this afternoon. She took Amie to dance and soccer practice a little before 4:30, and the mower was still there. Carson awoke around 5:45, and I took him to over to the park (he loves kicking around the soccer ball; too bad there's no 2-year-old league) at maybe 6:00. And the mower was gone. I hadn't even drained the gas (though it was likely close to empty anyway).
And this is how bulky trash always goes: the scavengers take a lot of the stuff, which really is the point. Perhaps some industrious home businessman will refurbish the mower and sell it (yay, capitalism), which is fine by me. I try to be conscientious about disposing of items, but the old mower was beyond my skills, and I knew someone else would be ready to take it away.
I just didn't think it would be that fast.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
TMNT, 2007
I don't get out to see movies in the theaters very much -- hard to believe with my schedule, but it's true -- but last night provided an opportunity, and there was a new release that I did want to see. TMNT, by now a sufficiently well-established brand name that they need not spell out the full version, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
There have been countless imitators of the title style -- three disjointed, somewhat absurd adjectives piling on top of a non-sequitur noun -- but none of those ever lasted long. Eastman and Laird did it first and did it best. I was in college when I first heard the name, and even my rather good primary comics store (the now-gone FantaCo in Albany, NY) couldn't hook me up. So I wrote out a check for some $6 and change and mailed it to Mirage Studios in Massachusetts. A few weeks later, a large envelope arrived, semi-folded in half (to fit the pathetic mailbox at my college apartment), containing issues #1 (third printing), #2 (second printing), and #3 (first printing; I mention this because I don't want anyone thinking I scored a now highly-valuable first printing of #1 for cover price; not so. Some of those earliest printings are valued highly, but the ones I have are not). I spent the next hour enjoying the heck out of some darn good comic books. The turtles themselves were well-developed characters -- not particularly deep, but consistent and motivated -- and the stories had actual plots, though nothing extraordinary as comic book stories go. It was good, sound craftsmanship with an amusing twist, though the fact that the protagonists were turtles never seemed to be particularly important; it was something to be worked around cleverly, and Eastman and Laird did so (stay out of sight, how did they become mutant turtles?, etc.) but the fact of their reptilianhood was rarely central.
Mirage hit a home run on its first try, and they cashed in big, with a cartoon series (never really watched; it was too juvenile, deliberately so, and yes, I realize I'm serving that criticism against a series sourced from comic books), and three live-action films in the early 1990s. (Super-short critiques: first film good, second atrocious, third a nice try based on actual Eastman & Laird comic stories, but it didn't get put together very well.) And then the turtles just sort of ... dropped out of sight ... I couldn't say why. Maybe the audience needs a generation to reset, like the Disney animation target demographic does. Anyway, the turtles are back.
The new film is CGI, of course, but I thought it was quite good; it allows the turtles to have a sleeker, more athletic design than the live action costumes did, good as they were. Overall the film is dark, but being set in New York City at night most of the time makes that unavoidable. The rather thin story -- a 3000-year old (and immortal) general is rounding up 13 transdimensional monsters in order to reverse the ritual he completed three millenia ago, and the turtles get involved -- isn't really interesting or sensible, but it doesn't have to be; it's a vehicle for the turtles to show their stuff. The general also has four lieutenants made of animate stone charged with capturing the monsters, and the turtles' traditional enemy, the Foot ninja clan (whom, aside from their leader, are primarily cannon fodder), also show up. Monsters, statues, ninja, and the turtles -- let's get it on! This movie is for the fight scenes, and they are very, very good (no matter how ridiculous or excessive -- really, that's the point). Throw in some inter-turtle strife between Leonardo and Raphael, which leads to a breathtaking duel and the film's emotional climax, and this is a delightful and thrilling popcorn flick.
About the only part of the film that disappointed me was the graphic design of the turtles' rat sensei, Splinter. He didn't have the right bulk -- should've been either larger or smaller -- and his fur was much too spiky. But, Splinter was voiced by the late, great Mako, who nailed the "wise, gruff, but loving master" voice decades ago, and whose talents will be missed from future installments (as well as from the fine television series Avatar). So this is more nitpickery than actual failing.
I didn't expect a lot, and got plenty and more. Well worth even a full-price ticket (for me, $8.50) at least one time. Definitely gonna get the DVD. Out of five stars: three.
There have been countless imitators of the title style -- three disjointed, somewhat absurd adjectives piling on top of a non-sequitur noun -- but none of those ever lasted long. Eastman and Laird did it first and did it best. I was in college when I first heard the name, and even my rather good primary comics store (the now-gone FantaCo in Albany, NY) couldn't hook me up. So I wrote out a check for some $6 and change and mailed it to Mirage Studios in Massachusetts. A few weeks later, a large envelope arrived, semi-folded in half (to fit the pathetic mailbox at my college apartment), containing issues #1 (third printing), #2 (second printing), and #3 (first printing; I mention this because I don't want anyone thinking I scored a now highly-valuable first printing of #1 for cover price; not so. Some of those earliest printings are valued highly, but the ones I have are not). I spent the next hour enjoying the heck out of some darn good comic books. The turtles themselves were well-developed characters -- not particularly deep, but consistent and motivated -- and the stories had actual plots, though nothing extraordinary as comic book stories go. It was good, sound craftsmanship with an amusing twist, though the fact that the protagonists were turtles never seemed to be particularly important; it was something to be worked around cleverly, and Eastman and Laird did so (stay out of sight, how did they become mutant turtles?, etc.) but the fact of their reptilianhood was rarely central.
Mirage hit a home run on its first try, and they cashed in big, with a cartoon series (never really watched; it was too juvenile, deliberately so, and yes, I realize I'm serving that criticism against a series sourced from comic books), and three live-action films in the early 1990s. (Super-short critiques: first film good, second atrocious, third a nice try based on actual Eastman & Laird comic stories, but it didn't get put together very well.) And then the turtles just sort of ... dropped out of sight ... I couldn't say why. Maybe the audience needs a generation to reset, like the Disney animation target demographic does. Anyway, the turtles are back.
The new film is CGI, of course, but I thought it was quite good; it allows the turtles to have a sleeker, more athletic design than the live action costumes did, good as they were. Overall the film is dark, but being set in New York City at night most of the time makes that unavoidable. The rather thin story -- a 3000-year old (and immortal) general is rounding up 13 transdimensional monsters in order to reverse the ritual he completed three millenia ago, and the turtles get involved -- isn't really interesting or sensible, but it doesn't have to be; it's a vehicle for the turtles to show their stuff. The general also has four lieutenants made of animate stone charged with capturing the monsters, and the turtles' traditional enemy, the Foot ninja clan (whom, aside from their leader, are primarily cannon fodder), also show up. Monsters, statues, ninja, and the turtles -- let's get it on! This movie is for the fight scenes, and they are very, very good (no matter how ridiculous or excessive -- really, that's the point). Throw in some inter-turtle strife between Leonardo and Raphael, which leads to a breathtaking duel and the film's emotional climax, and this is a delightful and thrilling popcorn flick.
About the only part of the film that disappointed me was the graphic design of the turtles' rat sensei, Splinter. He didn't have the right bulk -- should've been either larger or smaller -- and his fur was much too spiky. But, Splinter was voiced by the late, great Mako, who nailed the "wise, gruff, but loving master" voice decades ago, and whose talents will be missed from future installments (as well as from the fine television series Avatar). So this is more nitpickery than actual failing.
I didn't expect a lot, and got plenty and more. Well worth even a full-price ticket (for me, $8.50) at least one time. Definitely gonna get the DVD. Out of five stars: three.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Lasagna
Food to make the tastebuds happy.
Tonight I'm making lasagna. If you want to join in at home, here's the recipe.
You need:
Edibles:
28 oz. can Italian tomatoes (I prefer crushed; plain or seasoned is okay)
8 oz. can tomato sauce (not paste)
1 bulb fresh garlic
15 oz. tub ricotta cheese
1 can grated parmesan cheese
8 oz. package shredded mozzarella cheese
1.5 lb ground beef (at least 85/15; anything less is a waste)
1 package lasagna noodles (regular or oven-ready)
oregano
salt & pepper
olive oil
Equipment:
large frying pan with lid
9" x 13" pan (rectangular cake pan or similarly-sized casserole)
measuring cup
oven with stovetop
the usual gang of utensils
Peel apart the bulb of garlic and dice 2-3 peeled cloves (note: you can use more. It's not really possible to overdo garlic, if you like it as much as I do).
Brown the diced garlic in a dollop of olive oil over medium heat.
Add the beef; cook until brown. Drain the fat.
Reduce heat to medium-low, add tomatoes, sauce, tablespoon of oregano, whiff of salt & pepper.
Simmer 30-45 minutes. Kitchen, house will eventually reek (in a delightful way) of garlic.
Sit out the cheeses (especially the ricotta) so they can soften.
Noodles: if regular, boil and drain. If oven-ready, simply open box.
Lasagna construction:
In cake pan, from the bottom --
1 - 1.5 cups meat sauce
2 - one layer of noodles (3 if really wide, 4 if not)
3 - half of ricotta cheese
4 - 1/3 cup of parmesan
5 - 1/3 package of mozzarella
6 - another 1.5 cups of meat sauce
7 - another layer of noodles
8 - remainder of ricotta
9 - 1/3 cup of parmesan
10 - 1/3 package of mozzarella
11 - remainder of meat sauce
12 - last 1/3 of mozzarella
13 - at least 1/3 cup of parmesan (pile it on at will)
Bake at 350º F for 1 hour 15 minutes. Let stand 15-30 minutes before serving.
Refrigerate leftovers and enjoy again tomorrow, when the sauce has had time to congeal a bit, adding some mechanical strength with no loss of flavor.
Tonight I'm making lasagna. If you want to join in at home, here's the recipe.
You need:
Edibles:
28 oz. can Italian tomatoes (I prefer crushed; plain or seasoned is okay)
8 oz. can tomato sauce (not paste)
1 bulb fresh garlic
15 oz. tub ricotta cheese
1 can grated parmesan cheese
8 oz. package shredded mozzarella cheese
1.5 lb ground beef (at least 85/15; anything less is a waste)
1 package lasagna noodles (regular or oven-ready)
oregano
salt & pepper
olive oil
Equipment:
large frying pan with lid
9" x 13" pan (rectangular cake pan or similarly-sized casserole)
measuring cup
oven with stovetop
the usual gang of utensils
Peel apart the bulb of garlic and dice 2-3 peeled cloves (note: you can use more. It's not really possible to overdo garlic, if you like it as much as I do).
Brown the diced garlic in a dollop of olive oil over medium heat.
Add the beef; cook until brown. Drain the fat.
Reduce heat to medium-low, add tomatoes, sauce, tablespoon of oregano, whiff of salt & pepper.
Simmer 30-45 minutes. Kitchen, house will eventually reek (in a delightful way) of garlic.
Sit out the cheeses (especially the ricotta) so they can soften.
Noodles: if regular, boil and drain. If oven-ready, simply open box.
Lasagna construction:
In cake pan, from the bottom --
1 - 1.5 cups meat sauce
2 - one layer of noodles (3 if really wide, 4 if not)
3 - half of ricotta cheese
4 - 1/3 cup of parmesan
5 - 1/3 package of mozzarella
6 - another 1.5 cups of meat sauce
7 - another layer of noodles
8 - remainder of ricotta
9 - 1/3 cup of parmesan
10 - 1/3 package of mozzarella
11 - remainder of meat sauce
12 - last 1/3 of mozzarella
13 - at least 1/3 cup of parmesan (pile it on at will)
Bake at 350º F for 1 hour 15 minutes. Let stand 15-30 minutes before serving.
Refrigerate leftovers and enjoy again tomorrow, when the sauce has had time to congeal a bit, adding some mechanical strength with no loss of flavor.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Good-bye, Brad Delp
Brad Delp, lead singer for rock band Boston, died today.
Boston has only released five original albums in its 31-year history -- Don't Look Back, Third Stage, Walk On, Corporate America, and the first, the classic (iconic even), eponymous Boston. That first album hit like a thunderstorm in 1976 -- it was pure rock 'n roll, sweet guitars and cosmic sounds, and I was on the very cusp of my teenage years when such things were, and still are, so influential. And Delp's vocals were so fluid, integrated with the music, even integral to it. Yeah, Boston was always Tom Scholz' playground, but Delp's voice brought it to life and made it worth listening to.
I saw Boston live twice, in 1976 at the New Haven Coliseum and in 2004 at the Frank Erwin Center here in Austin. Both shows blew me away, and despite the 28-year interval and the evolution of Scholz's music and available tools and instruments, I couldn't tell the difference in how I felt after each show, other than being older, probably better able to appreciate the performance, and hoping the daughter was asleep when we got home following the 2004 concert.
The Coliseum came down in January after being closed for years -- and it's not sorely missed, because it was a dump from the day it opened. But I saw Boston play there (and probably inhaled my first marijuana smoke that night -- not mine, I was but twelve, but there was plenty being lit up), and that will always be a fond memory. Delp, Scholz, and the band were but dots down on stage, but damn, I saw Boston play, and even if it was very early in its career, it was probably the band at its peak; they've hardly come down since, and that was, to me, a great show.
Scholz works at a glacial pace, but maybe he's got a few tracks still unreleased that, some decade, he'll grace and surprise us with, some last legacy of Brad Delp's voice -- not great by itself, but so wonderful within the Boston sound. Well, we can but hope, and it'd be a topic for another time anyway.
I'm gonna pull out a Boston CD and play it. Why not do the same? Or find some clips on YouTube. Go forth and enjoy the delightful works Brad Delp left behind.
Thank you, Brad. Sorry you had to go.
(All potential Boston lyric-related puns deliberately avoided, I hope.)
Boston has only released five original albums in its 31-year history -- Don't Look Back, Third Stage, Walk On, Corporate America, and the first, the classic (iconic even), eponymous Boston. That first album hit like a thunderstorm in 1976 -- it was pure rock 'n roll, sweet guitars and cosmic sounds, and I was on the very cusp of my teenage years when such things were, and still are, so influential. And Delp's vocals were so fluid, integrated with the music, even integral to it. Yeah, Boston was always Tom Scholz' playground, but Delp's voice brought it to life and made it worth listening to.
I saw Boston live twice, in 1976 at the New Haven Coliseum and in 2004 at the Frank Erwin Center here in Austin. Both shows blew me away, and despite the 28-year interval and the evolution of Scholz's music and available tools and instruments, I couldn't tell the difference in how I felt after each show, other than being older, probably better able to appreciate the performance, and hoping the daughter was asleep when we got home following the 2004 concert.
The Coliseum came down in January after being closed for years -- and it's not sorely missed, because it was a dump from the day it opened. But I saw Boston play there (and probably inhaled my first marijuana smoke that night -- not mine, I was but twelve, but there was plenty being lit up), and that will always be a fond memory. Delp, Scholz, and the band were but dots down on stage, but damn, I saw Boston play, and even if it was very early in its career, it was probably the band at its peak; they've hardly come down since, and that was, to me, a great show.
Scholz works at a glacial pace, but maybe he's got a few tracks still unreleased that, some decade, he'll grace and surprise us with, some last legacy of Brad Delp's voice -- not great by itself, but so wonderful within the Boston sound. Well, we can but hope, and it'd be a topic for another time anyway.
I'm gonna pull out a Boston CD and play it. Why not do the same? Or find some clips on YouTube. Go forth and enjoy the delightful works Brad Delp left behind.
Thank you, Brad. Sorry you had to go.
(All potential Boston lyric-related puns deliberately avoided, I hope.)
Monday, March 05, 2007
The Zilker Park Kite Festival, 2007
Sunday was one of Austin's annual fun-for-all (and free!) events, the Zilker Park Kite Festival, the 79th edition. We've been to a few of the recent ones; it's many (but not too many) people, an assortment of dogs, many kites aloft, fresh air, sunshine, and a generally good time to be outside. Plus there is a display of giant (and always impressive) kites, which alone are worth seeing.
This year we decided not to fight for parking and availed ourselves of the free downtown parking garage and shuttle buses; for the kids this just added to the adventure. On the short drive through Austin, we passed by the rubble and remains of the Intel iSore, blown up last weekend (on purpose; post coming soon; video is complex to me), so that was interesting.
We got to Zilker Park about noon, soon joined up with Amalie's friend Noah and his family (Steve, Sarah, baby Lucy), and minutes later (I'd hiked off for a few quick pictures of the giant kites from a different view) Carson wandered off. I wasn't gone ten minutes, but when I came back only Steve was with all our gear, and before he could explain what had happened, a Festival attendant came back with Carson, solo. Some quick cell calls rounded up everyone else, and he was kept under watchful eye the rest of our time there.
We set up base camp at the edge of the large field overlooking the skyline, and I was granted leave to walk about for more picture-taking. I did a large loop, skirting the main field and walking back up to the giant kite display field and circling it. Then I made the mistake of deciding to buy a sandwich, the line wait during which my beard got noticably thicker. Finally I got back to base camp; Val had left to follow Carson's free-roaming. They eventually went as far as the Mopac footbridge, so that was probably a 2-mile hike on their part; more, knowing how Carson meanders.
Noah & family took their leave -- it was nearly 2:00 -- and we left soon after, taking more time to watch the giant kites (provided by Gomberg Kite Productions International -- fun site; surf around to find The World's Largest Kite, entertaining kite disasters, and more). The squid, I thought, was particularly amazing -- huge, yes, but also graceful and quite a clever design. It was fun to watch in much the same way observing fire or waterfalls or even fish are -- they are beautiful, almost hypnotically fluid in motion, and there's always a good chance that something surprising will happen, some unexpected shape or shift that evokes something deep in personal or racial memory, even if you're not exactly sure just what. (I'm pretty sure this was the 50 foot squid; a longer one is available, but it just didn't seem to be that huge. Still beautiful.)
We trundled on to the shuttle buses (they were school buses, and I honestly cannot recall the last time I was on one of those), got back to the car, and drove for home. Both kids dozed off on the way. The Zilker Park Kite Fest on a perfect day -- one could hardly ask for more.
This year we decided not to fight for parking and availed ourselves of the free downtown parking garage and shuttle buses; for the kids this just added to the adventure. On the short drive through Austin, we passed by the rubble and remains of the Intel iSore, blown up last weekend (on purpose; post coming soon; video is complex to me), so that was interesting.
We got to Zilker Park about noon, soon joined up with Amalie's friend Noah and his family (Steve, Sarah, baby Lucy), and minutes later (I'd hiked off for a few quick pictures of the giant kites from a different view) Carson wandered off. I wasn't gone ten minutes, but when I came back only Steve was with all our gear, and before he could explain what had happened, a Festival attendant came back with Carson, solo. Some quick cell calls rounded up everyone else, and he was kept under watchful eye the rest of our time there.
Part of the Giant Kite display -- stingray, dog, shark, elephant head, squid.
We set up base camp at the edge of the large field overlooking the skyline, and I was granted leave to walk about for more picture-taking. I did a large loop, skirting the main field and walking back up to the giant kite display field and circling it. Then I made the mistake of deciding to buy a sandwich, the line wait during which my beard got noticably thicker. Finally I got back to base camp; Val had left to follow Carson's free-roaming. They eventually went as far as the Mopac footbridge, so that was probably a 2-mile hike on their part; more, knowing how Carson meanders.
Kites against the Austin skyline, including the Frost Tower.
Noah & family took their leave -- it was nearly 2:00 -- and we left soon after, taking more time to watch the giant kites (provided by Gomberg Kite Productions International -- fun site; surf around to find The World's Largest Kite, entertaining kite disasters, and more). The squid, I thought, was particularly amazing -- huge, yes, but also graceful and quite a clever design. It was fun to watch in much the same way observing fire or waterfalls or even fish are -- they are beautiful, almost hypnotically fluid in motion, and there's always a good chance that something surprising will happen, some unexpected shape or shift that evokes something deep in personal or racial memory, even if you're not exactly sure just what. (I'm pretty sure this was the 50 foot squid; a longer one is available, but it just didn't seem to be that huge. Still beautiful.)
The Stingray and Squid demonstrate Synchronized Sailing.
We trundled on to the shuttle buses (they were school buses, and I honestly cannot recall the last time I was on one of those), got back to the car, and drove for home. Both kids dozed off on the way. The Zilker Park Kite Fest on a perfect day -- one could hardly ask for more.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Getting the finger (back to healthy)
Sometime in January I got an infection around the base and cuticle of my right index finger. I'm not sure how; anyway, it was annoying, and late in the month I finally decided to try lancing and draining it. That helped a little, but I didn't do a very good job of it. The infection got worse, home treatment didn't help, and when I saw my nail starting to turn white (the infection spreading underneath) I finally went to a walk-in clinic, figuring this wasn't so complicated I should try for my regular physician or the local emergency room.
I was right, it wasn't complicated. I asked the attending doctor if I might lose the nail; he replied it was possible, but that it would grow back, no permanent harm. That was encouraging. The doctor prescribed me two different antibiotics, standard ten-day courses, and decided to perform his own lancing, telling me he was going to pierce my fingernail. That gave me pause, as it sounded, well, unpleasant. I asked if he was going to give me a local anasthetic. Nope. I said it sounded painful; he replied it would only be a little bit so, said he was going to get his "drilling kit", and left for a few minutes.
I got to sit there, thinking about what having my un-numbed fingernail pierced would be like.
The doctor came back with, oh, a double-aught gauge hypodermic, or something about that size. I held my hand flat on the table on a pad, and he cored a hole into the center back end of my nail. Yes, it hurt; not nearly the worst pain I've ever had, and I didn't flinch, but it hurt. He inspected his work and decided he hadn't gotten deep enough; the needle re-cored my nail. Deeper hurts worse; but this time he struck oil, or at least blood, which leaked out a good bit. Then he had me immerse my finger into a cup of peroxide for a few minutes; it foamed up like a high school science project volcano, killing the bad things and cleaning my finger quite well. When a nurse came around to clean and bandage my finger, there was only a little bit of peroxide left in the cup. She wrapped a complicated, full-finger bandage around my digit and told me to keep it on for two days. It lasted 36 hours, but I re-wrapped it well after the first bandage gave up. A checkup four days later resulted in a prognosis that the healing was well underway and to continue with the antibiotics and general cleaning and bandaging.
I finished the antibiotics earlier this week; the infection is long dead. The back end of my nail, which was starting to become visible when I went to the clinic, is now well up my finger, and a bit of baby nail material is growing behind it. Here, have a look:
The yellowish area is where my nail has separated from the finger. I typically keep an adhesive bandage on it during the day, mainly to prevent it from snagging on anything and possibly separating more. It doesn't hurt but I see no point in letting it get abused more. Earlier today I did something to further prevent snag potential, something which, I expect, few people have ever done. It only took a few seconds.
Today I trimmed the back of my fingernail.
Anyway... glad to have my finger heading back to healthy (even if it looks weirdly mangled). My kids find it amusing, and I got a strong reminder not to let infections linger. My arm still tenses a bit when I think of the piercing.
I was right, it wasn't complicated. I asked the attending doctor if I might lose the nail; he replied it was possible, but that it would grow back, no permanent harm. That was encouraging. The doctor prescribed me two different antibiotics, standard ten-day courses, and decided to perform his own lancing, telling me he was going to pierce my fingernail. That gave me pause, as it sounded, well, unpleasant. I asked if he was going to give me a local anasthetic. Nope. I said it sounded painful; he replied it would only be a little bit so, said he was going to get his "drilling kit", and left for a few minutes.
I got to sit there, thinking about what having my un-numbed fingernail pierced would be like.
The doctor came back with, oh, a double-aught gauge hypodermic, or something about that size. I held my hand flat on the table on a pad, and he cored a hole into the center back end of my nail. Yes, it hurt; not nearly the worst pain I've ever had, and I didn't flinch, but it hurt. He inspected his work and decided he hadn't gotten deep enough; the needle re-cored my nail. Deeper hurts worse; but this time he struck oil, or at least blood, which leaked out a good bit. Then he had me immerse my finger into a cup of peroxide for a few minutes; it foamed up like a high school science project volcano, killing the bad things and cleaning my finger quite well. When a nurse came around to clean and bandage my finger, there was only a little bit of peroxide left in the cup. She wrapped a complicated, full-finger bandage around my digit and told me to keep it on for two days. It lasted 36 hours, but I re-wrapped it well after the first bandage gave up. A checkup four days later resulted in a prognosis that the healing was well underway and to continue with the antibiotics and general cleaning and bandaging.
I finished the antibiotics earlier this week; the infection is long dead. The back end of my nail, which was starting to become visible when I went to the clinic, is now well up my finger, and a bit of baby nail material is growing behind it. Here, have a look:
The yellowish area is where my nail has separated from the finger. I typically keep an adhesive bandage on it during the day, mainly to prevent it from snagging on anything and possibly separating more. It doesn't hurt but I see no point in letting it get abused more. Earlier today I did something to further prevent snag potential, something which, I expect, few people have ever done. It only took a few seconds.
Today I trimmed the back of my fingernail.
Anyway... glad to have my finger heading back to healthy (even if it looks weirdly mangled). My kids find it amusing, and I got a strong reminder not to let infections linger. My arm still tenses a bit when I think of the piercing.
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