Balance

Always captivating Gregg Easterbrook, aka TMQ on ESPN.com writes in his article about the manic coach firings in College Football:

a university exists to educate; winning football games is a secondary concern

Probably a sentiment that make BCS officials choke on their breakfast, but an important point nevertheless.

College football is now completely removed from the "amateur" status - in 2007 Forbes calculated the Notre Dame football programme's financial worth at $91m. ND receives $9m annually from NBC alone, far more than any other programme, and of course amplified by ND's independent status, allowing them to keep their income for themselves and not revenue share with other conference teams.

Clearly that financial issue, combined with ND being 21 years removed from it's latest national championship caused Charlie Weis, the former Patriots co-ordinator, to walk the plank after 4 years. Weis' first season (9-3) was a moderate success, but after a 10-2 second season his bck to back 6-6 seasons were not enough to save him.

However, Notre Dame's academic standards have also been considered markedly higher than other school, prompting Easterbrook to point out:

Notre Dame was among the few prominent holdouts, insisting its football players be students too. This generated a recruiting disadvantage -- and a recruiting disadvantage caused by high standards, not Weis suddenly forgetting how to coach, is the reason for the recent records of Notre Dame football. Notre Dame alums and boosters should have been proud that high standards keep the school from going 12-0!

With more than 10000 players in the NCAA div 1 and only 256 players drafted by the NFL each year, the odds are better than winning the lottery....but not by much.

As entertaining and as passionate college football is, shouldn't the universities be able to strike a better balance between academics and sports?

If not, isn't it time to start paying the "student-athletes"?

Hot Stove...

...lukewarm Niners (picture of Alex Smith from sfgate.com) and a pretty ice cold Liverpool.

That's probably an accurate snapshot of the current sports situation for Mr.N personally.

The Red Sox shored up their troublesome SS position by signing Mr. Utility - Marco Scutaro, formerly of the Blue Jays. Since Nomah led the Sox from the SS position as one of the three best shortstops in the league from 1997 to 2003, the Red Sox has essentially treated the position as a revolving door. Since mid-2004, 7 players have manned the position for the Bostonians. (Well, 6, but Alex Gonzalez did it in 2006 and again in 2009.)

Now they have one of the best fielding shortstops in the league when healthy (he suffered from a nasty case of Plantar Faciitis last season), he's played more than 115 games in 5 of the last 6 seasons since becoming a full time player with Oakland in 2004. Even with his foot injury last year he only played on less game than 2008, his first year with the Jays (144 vs 145 games.)

What's more interesting is, as Peter Gammons mentions in his column, Scutaro's performance at the plate has gone up more or less every year. From an OBP of .297 in 2004 to a respectable .379 last season. Something that must have made the Red Sox FO salivate with glee is also his ability to wear down pitchers, as he lead all MLB shortstops in pitches per at bat in 2009.

2 years and $11 million gives the Red Sox solidity to a position that could almost become a strength for the team if Jed Lowrie can get healthy and assume a super utility role.

Obviously the Red Sox have some outstanding issues, such as a big bat (Bay or M. Holliday...or Adrian Gonzalez?), Ortiz's rapidly declining skills, Lowell's health concerns and possibly another starting pitcher or two. Whether the last issue is solved by a monster trade for Doc Halladay or a more buy low option of a Ben Sheets type pitcher remains to be seen.

We haven't even gotten to the winter meeting yet! So far no sign of the Yankees trying to continue their plan of buying every player in the world - although clearly Cashman's strategy worked last year. On occasion I can't stop thinking what the outcome would have been with Teixeira at 1B and Youk at 3B for the Sox if Henry and the gang had upped their bid by 5%....

Pigskin times

As for the NFL, we're in week 13 and we have 2, count 'em two, teams still undefeated; the Saints and the Colts. Theoretically we could have two 18-0 teams in Miami in January. Wonder what the 1972 guys will think then.

The Niners might actually have a shot at the post season for the first time since the Mooch era, with a pretty manageable schedule up to Christmas. Only Philly and possibly the Cardinals look like nail biting games, especially with an (almost) dominating defense and a resurgent Alex Smith at the helm of the offense.

Of course they'd have to navigate the Vikings, Saints and Dallas (plus two wildcards) in the playoffs if they get there, but in all honesty I'd be ecstatic by just a return to January football this year.

There's always next year...

Seems to be the mantra in Liverpool. Now out of the Champions League, with a shaky ownership and already 15 points behind the league leaders, 2009 seems to be a season that before Christmas has gone from "This is the year" to "well, maybe next year".

What's clear is that Liverpool's squad is paperthin compared to Chelsea's and ManU's. Without Gerrard and Torres Liverpool was as potent as a paper tiger, and now languish outside the top 4.

I still think they'll finish in a CS spot, but this season is not one for the ages.

Finally

The best pop culture v sports comparison of the day goes to Bill Simmons (again), as he compares the Cavalier's Shaq with a bald Aretha Franklin. I recommend reading his entire column, especially the dire look at the city of Cleveland's fortunes.

What now?

With only half an eye on the CS, I struggle to justify staying up to 5am to watch the Angels, Yankees, Dodgers or Phillies.

I've frantically been searching for an article breaking down which of the teams in the CS a Red Sox fan should support, but essentially the conclusion is the Phillies or the Angels.

While we're on the topic of the Phillies; the Red Sox sign John Smoltz and get a pale replica of the once great pitcher. The Phillies sign Pedro and get 7 innings of 1 hit pitching. Against an almost equally flawless Vincente Padilla. Yes, the Vincente Padilla who was tossed from both the Phillies and earlier this year the Rangers.

The discussion of the level of play between the NL and the AL has been going on for years, nay decades, but take a look at Smoltz and Padilla:

Smoltz:

BOS (AL): 40.0 IP, 59 Hits, 8 HR, 9 BB, 8.32 ERA, 1.70 WHIP, .343 BA against

STL (NL): 38.0 IP, 36 Hits, 3 HR, 9 BB, 4.26 ERA, 1.18 WHIP, .248 BA against

Padilla:

TEX (AL): 108.0 IP, 4.91 K/9 ip, 4.92 ERA, .286 BA

LAD (NL): 39.1 IP, 8.69 K/9 ip, 3.20 ERA, .252 BA

This is not just a question of an improvement due to change of scenery. The NL is bordering on being Quadruple-A.

As for Pedey, last night was a superb display from a pitcher who has realised age has caught up with him and has had to change game plans. The frustration among the Dodger hitters was palatable, as Martinez "pounded" the strike zone with pitches varying from 65 to 91 mph. Even his curve varied by as much as 8 mph.

So, with the CS analysis out of the way, what's next? Seeing if the 49ers can get some use out of Crabtree after his less than brilliant plan of holding out? Watching Liverpool, with more losses through the first half of October than the entire 2008 season, to see if they can finally win the Premiership (I'm not holding my breath...)

Or simply a slight pause from sports?

Nah, didn't buy that myself.

Although my life will probably be a little bit more balanced as I actually finished the Royal Parks Half Marathon last weekend. (In 2h16mins, not as fast as I wanted, but as it was my first 13.1 race, I'll take it).

Here's to an interesting off-season.

Halos Redux....again. Or not.

Here we go, here we go, here we go....again....

Like an old vinyl record with a scratch in it, returning the track to the same starting point again and again.

That was the start of my pre-ALDS post, which got lost due to time constraint. Alas, as we now know, history did not repeat itself.

After treating the Halos as their personal bitch (in the post season only of course. during the regular season the Angels owned the Red Sox) for about a decade, going 9-1 in the last 3 post season series, Grumpy finally got one over Tito. The Angels swept a thoroughly un-impressive Red Sox team that played like a team that finally got caught by the findy-outy-police.

The heart of the order; Martinez, Youk and Ortiz (although Bay and Ortiz swapped 5th & 6th spot in game 3) had a total offensive production of.......4 for 35, or a .114 average in the series.

The Red Sox bullpen, previously considered one of the better 'pens in the league imploded. Papelbon, who hadn't allowed a run in 26 post season innings, allowed 3 runs to score on 4 hits in game 3 - all with 2 outs.

Simply put, and to stop this from being a complete recap of all stats, the Red Sox did not show up. The batters didn't...well, bat. The pitchers gave the Angels plenty of straight down the middle pitches - and walks - lethal against a speedy team. All in all, the Angels were much better.

Sooo.....

What does this mean for the Red Sox?

Well, to start with, I suspect (with sadness, albeit with inevitable acceptance) that we've seen the last of our Captain. At least as a starter (well, that's a given). There is no way the Red Sox will pick up their $5m option on Varitek, although he of course has a $3m option himself.

The question for the Sox is what would benefit the team more in the long run; Varitek as back up and teacher to Martinez for a year or bringing up another catcher to develop.

Other obvious question marks are Bay (probably the best free agent hitter available this off season), Lowell (will he be productive and healthy for one more year?) Ortiz (which one will show up in March, the Ortiz of April-May 2009 or the June-Sept Big Papi) and the never-ending search for a short stop.

This period (and the end of July) is why they pay Theo the big bucks. Over to you Mr. Epstein.

Priorities

So, you are a valued employee, perhaps one of the key members of staff.

You're coming up to the biggest deadline you've had for many years, literally a make or break project for your company, and your bosses rely heavily on you to deliver your very best with this project.

How do you prepare? Study the parameters of the project, run through different scenarios and prepare to the very best of your ability, and then get a good nights sleep so that you can truly shine and deliver the next day?

Not if you're Miguel Cabrera.

His team, the Detroit Tigers, for so long in complete control of the AL Central but now hobbling towards the finishing line ferociously chased by the resurgent Minnesota Twins, went into the last 3 game series of the regular season against the White Sox 2 games ahead in the standings on Friday.

After a dismal 0-4 performance in game 1, where he left 4 runners on base, did Miguel, in all his wisdom, decide that the best preparation for the incredibly crucial game 2 (as the Twins had won their first game it was now a 1 game lead in the AL Central) was to take extra BP and some film studying of next game's opposing pitcher, the rejuvenated Freddy Garcia who had re-discovered his lethal forkball?

Ehh, no.

He thought the best way to prepare was to go to a nearby hotel, where some friends were staying. Friends who happen to play for the WHITE SOX, the series opponent and the team standing between the Tigers and a playoff spot.

He staggered in to his Detroit house at 5am the next morning, talking so loudly on his mobile phone that he woke up his young daughter and wife Rosangel. Rosangel was understandibly less than impressed, and heated tempers on both sides ended up with Miguel being picked up by Detroit's finest.

You see, not only did he fraternise with the opposing team, he also decided that his preparation would be best suited by getting ABSOLUTELY HAMMERED. After making his way home, having a row with his wife, dealing with the police and transported to the station, he was then finally tested for blood alcohol level. A guess is that this happened probably at least an hour after he finished drinking, assuming that he left after he finished his last drink.

So, around 6am, 13 hours before probably one of the most important games in his career and certainly the most important one since becoming a Tiger, Cabrera has a blood alcohol level of .26.

To put that into perspective a little, the legal limit to drive in Michigan is .08, the same as in the UK. In Sweden the legal limit is 0.03, whereas the limit for Drunk Driving (the more serious offence) is .1.

Michigan police has a policy to send anyone to the hospital if they test at 0.35 or higher. Considering that rule of thumb is that you sober up by 0.01 per 40 mins after you stopped drinking, Cabrera probably was very close to this level during his night of "celebrations".

As the cherry on the pie, Cabrera, who wasn't arrested but merely removed from his house at his and his wife's request, finished the evening (or in this case morning) by being picked up by the Tigers General Manager Dave Dombroski. That must have been a pleasant ride.

Despite all his pre-game preparation, amazingly Cabrera did not raise his game against the White Sox, finishing game 2 with another 0-fer game, this time leaving 6 runners on base. He also managed to kill the best chance the Tigers had, when 3 runs behind in the 7th and 2 runners on when he meekly hit into a double play.

Cabrera, who is a catholic also practices a religion called Santería, and he became a high priest, or a Babalao in 2006. Babalao roughly translates to "wise man".

Time to hand back that robe, Miguel, wise man you are not.

Now, if I showed up to my office on one of the most important days of the year still drunk and blowing a presentation for a big deal, I'm certain that would possibly endanger my future employment with my company. Then again, Miguel is guaranteed $150m over the next 5 years, so I guess the incentive might be a little bit less for him. Although you have to wonder what his team mates, front office and fans think about him.

Finally, as if Miguel's behaviour couldn't be more exemplary, another story has emerged today. Apparently Cabrera, in a previous incident at the same hotel as Friday's "prep-fest", taunted a 15 year old boy about his weight issues and then challenged the boy and the people around the table to "take it outside".

Now, here in the UK there's a chant used on the football terraces whenever the opposition has a somewhat less than athletic looking player:

Who ate all the pies?

Cabrera has eaten more than his share of pies over the years, in fact so much that the Tigers moved him from third base to first as his range had diminished to the point where he was a big liability defensively.

In 2007 the discussion in the majors was if Cabrera could join A-Rod in the $200m contract club, but one AL Executive said:

His weight is a major issue

Clearly Miguel has worked at losing a little of his voluminous body, but only in a world of 400 lb people would he be called slim.

In tonight's one game pennant play-off at the Metrodome, I'd say that my heart lies with the Twins, but I also know that the Tigers would probably put up a better challenge for the Yankees.

Miguel, you have one shot tonight. Time to put up or shut up. Or to quote Marshall:

Look, if you had one shot or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

The ball's in your court.

15 mins that shook the world

The most important half time talk ever....

2005 redux

After watching Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS, it was time to revisit the other top sporting moment of my life...

Necessary Inconvenience

Most of us commute to work in some form or another. I alternate taking the Tube (the subway for North Americans) and cycling. For years I endured a relatively long train journey on overground train into London, with its inevitable issues and complete lack of punctuality.

As seasoned commuters will testify, delays will and do happen, but the worst thing is being kept in the dark. Nothing makes you feel more insignificant than waiting forever without no information whatsoever why you are waiting, or some generic "sorry for the delay" - when you "know" they're not really sorry.

For many years, from the early Yawkey days through the Clemens "led" 80s, the Red Sox had a more than tension filled relationship both within the team and externally with fans and the local media. As much as we love Yawkey way, the man the street is named after was a bigot and a drunkard who surrounded himself with similar people. Fans had to endure the smallest and second oldest stadium in the country, with horrible facilities. For many years fans were treated with a sense of "you should be honoured that we let you come to Fenway".

Clearly this has changed significantly since the Henry group took ownership, and the restorations they have done to Fenway in some aspects are nothing short of remarkable considering the limitations a 97 year old stadium would create on any attempts of modernisation.

The Henry group also immediately changed the relationship with the local fan base and media. Led by former VP of Public Affairs Dr. Charles Steinberg, who became Theo Epstein's mentor when TE began in baseball as an intern with the Baltimore Orioles (and who bizarrely also was the Orioles team dentist), led the Red Sox on a blitzkrieg of public relations and with a few notable exceptions in the press, generally turned a very tension filled relationship with the surrounding elements in Boston into a much more amiable situation.

Steinberg and the Henry group broke the ice with several former players alienated by the Yawkey trust and improved relations with fans both outside and inside the now continuously improving Fenway Park.

With John Henry even being on Twitter, one could possibly even go so far to say that no other franchise in sports is so accessible to the fans as the Sox.

So why did my recent trip to Boston leave a little to be desired?

As the Girl and I travelled up through Connecticut on the Amtrak, the forecast was somewhat unclear. Rain was peltering the train windows, but the weathermen and women told us that it should clear up by the evening in the New England area.

Once in Boston, we eagerly made our way first to Cask & Flagon for some reminiscing, and then wandered to the Yawkey Way Store (for some "necessary" merchandise), the premium beer vendor (for a Smithwick's) and the Grille (for a sausage with peppers and onion) before taking our seats in the rightfield bleachers. There was a mist

in the air, but with every possible offering to the weather gods, the game did in fact start on time.....and lasted for a total of 0 innings...

Jon Lester fired a fastball...at the backstop in anger after having the game delayed 3 batters into the top of the first.

The big screen above the outfield bleachers posted a non-specific statement about "inclement weather" and we were "entertained" by a soundless tv image of first the Rangers game (until they were rained out) and then a Seattle game (I think).

At this point I was still so happy about being at Fenway I wasn't too worried. Hey, it was Friday evening, I was with the Girl, I had a Sam Adams in my hand and we were wandering around the concourse (and later another trip to the Yawkey Way Store) waiting for the rain to subside.

But it didn't....

So we then waited for the inevitable official announcement of the cancellation of the game, thinking that they would add a day game to the Saturday's scheduled evening game, thus allowing us to re-use our tickets.

But they didn't....

Still the same non-descript message on the big screen, now displaying to only a handful of brave souls still in their seats (all but two under the grand stand roof).

After a 1h45min delay, the announcement came just before 10pm that the game was off. And re-scheduled for noon on Sunday. Precisely 2 hours after my flight back to the UK was scheduled to take off. Grumbling about "why-didn't-they-call-it-earlier-so-they-could-play-tomorrow" we wandered off to C&F again for some food and some more beer.

Still, it was Friday evening in the Fens, I was with the Girl, I had a Sam Adams in my hand, so I'd certainly had worse days.

We still had another chance to go the Saturday game, and my inside tip allowed me to get face value grandstand tickets behind the Red Sox dugout at face value, but we had to take a $100 loss on re-selling the now Sunday game tickets - oh, well.

Saturday was miserable and grey, and we spent most of it strolling around Back Bay eating and drinking, looking forward to Joshua take the mound and stem his recent generosity with the longball. After beginning the evening at C&F again, we took our seats in section 20 and as the earlier torrential downpour had diminished to a fine mist, we felt confident that the game would start on time.

But it didn't....

Despite any rain whatsoever, with the tarp still on the field 15 mins before supposed game start, we all knew what was coming.

"We apologise, but the start of the game has been delayed due to inclement weather in the area. We thank you for your patience."

So, we sat around, fiddling our thumbs in the clear evening sky for 90 mins, when the grounds team suddenly came out to prepare the field.....just as the rain actually started again.

So the tarp went back on for 10mins. And then back off again.

And then we were kindly informed that the game would start 40 mins later, at 9.15pm, 2 hours and 5 mins behind schedule.

Finally....

And then we had glorious baseball at last. Beckett pounded the Rays batters with fastballs and confounded them with kneebuckling curves, allowing 1 hit in the first 4 innings. Once the Red Sox bats chased Rays' starter out of the game while batting around the order and scoring 8 runs in the third, this game was over either way. Youk hit a monster homer over left centre in the 4th before the game was put on delay yet again after 5 innings and 2 hours of baseball just before 11pm, and was ultimately called a complete 5 inning game just under an hour later.

So why am I a bit miffed? Sure, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that paying $250 for 2 hours of baseball over two nights (and probably another $100 or so spent at the stadium) was annoying.

But ultimately rain happens. As Nuke Laloosh once said:

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.

What could have made the evening more endurable would have been a more detailed stream of information from the Management instead of the generic non-info we got - especially when we sat for more than 90mins looking at a rain free sky before the game started. Add those 90 mins to the playing time and we easily would have had a complete 9 inning game. Although I don't want to be a cynic, a part of me struggles with the notion that for every minute the fans stay at the stadium before leaving once the game is called or cancelled, the Sox and concession owners make another small fortune on $7.85 beers and $6.50 sausages.

As we all know in our private lives; communication is key. The Red Sox should have known better in their communication, and on this occasion they failed. I don't think they are returning to the days of treating the fans as a necessary inconvenience, but they need to up their game if they want to continue with their streak of sold out games.

And buy a better weatherforecasting system than Meteorlogix.

The way it was meant to be...

$10 box seats.

$4 beers.

$20 caps.

Constant promotions and competitions involving the audience and especially engaging the kids.

And several former (and hopeful to be future) major leaguers.

That's the way baseball really should be played and enjoyed. Players hustling every ball as they know this might be the last chance they have to get to the majors. Fans being able to take their family to the game on a regular basis without a need for a lottery win.

An evening at Long Island Ducks Citibank field is...well, I can't find a more eloquent word than "fun". Estimated by Hall of Fame catcher and Red Sox heartbreaker Gary Carter, who is trying to make it to the show as a manager now by taking on the LI Ducks in the independent Atlantic League, as equivalent to AA minor league ball, the Ducks are looking for their 2nd championship since the creation of the team 10 years ago.

Whilst some teams such as the Newark Bears focus on former Major Leaguers such as former Red Sox Keith Foulke and Carl "CHB" Everett, the Ducks roster consists mainly of former players from minor league affiliates, including several LI locals.

Peanuts, base hits, beer and a mascot called Quacker Jack. It's simply brilliant entertainment for your buck.

City of Fatherly Love

I so want to believe that I would have the composure to do what this guy did at last night's Phillies game... (apologies for the commercial before the clip - courtesy of ESPN)

Truly a display of good parenting :)

Perspective

I could be writing about the horrible sweep by the Yankees or that the Red Sox for a moment even lost the lead in the wild card standings.

I could write about the torn feelings of admiring Smoltz pitching a gem in a Cardinals outfit while I reminisce about his 8+ ERA for the Red Sox.

I could follow up on my short and impulsive posts about the recent beaning frenzy, especially after the Porcello-Youkilis fracas.

Or I could write about the complete disbelief that follows watching Usain Bolt run any sprint distance. (Please God, make him be clean. I would stop watching athletics forever if it turns out he's juiced too.).

Ultimately though, money aside, those are all....well, games. Whilst in many cases it feels like life or death, it's not.

For Greg Montalbano(above, picture by Boston Globe) baseball went from being the more or less sole focus of his life and the dream to one day pitch in the Majors for his beloved Red Sox to something much less important. As a freshman at Northeastern University, where Montalbano had enrolled after pitching for St John's High in Shrewsbury, he was diagnosed with testicular cancer in 1996, but battled through his illness, and in his last two years at NU was voted on to the All-American team. With the Red Sox A affiliate in Sarasota, he proved the Red Sox right for picking him in the 5th round of the '99 draft by tearing through the minor league levels.

Unfortunately, tumors were constantly tearing through his body too. He in the end lost count on how many times he'd had surgery to remove benign and malign tumors, at least 16 or 17 times in ten years.

After shoulder problems prevented him from taking the step up to Triple A in 2002, a combination of arm problems and yet another bout of tumor removal made him lose almost 2 years of baseball, although he did team up with another well known left handed cancer survivor

in the Red Sox Gulf Coast team in 2004; Jon Lester.

When he finally got a reprieve and became healthy in 2005, the Red Sox released him after spring training. As horrible as that is to write (and read), we all know, as did Greg, that baseball is a business, and after 5 years the Red Sox had to go down another route.

Greg took another path too. Now back to full strength, he dominated, nay crushed, the opposition in the Can Am Independent League, at one point going 35 1/2 innings without giving up a run in July 2006, posting an 0.86 ERA that had the major league scouts calling once again.

Sadly, this is not a Hollywood movie where a Tom Berenger on his last knees gets a final chance in the show and makes the most of it. On his way to the stadium for his scheduled start, Greg got the call he feared the most; the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute telling him his cancer had returned....again.

"I am a tumor machine," he says. "I make tumors. I have no idea why."

An great article by Stan Grossfield in the Boston Globe in October 2008 highlighted Greg's personal fight for me, and I've been following him on the net since.

Greg left baseball to focus on the next step of his life, using his engineering degree from NU and working incessantly for the Jimmy Fund, raising awareness and money for cancer research and treatment.

Even a sterile medium as the internet was able to portray Greg to me, and no doubt to other readers, as a truly great person. The kind that we see too rarely in life, but when we do they leave a permanent mark.

Often death "sanitises" the picture of a person, making him seem better, nicer and friendlier than he or she might actually have been in real life. However, in Greg's case, without ever having the privilige of meeting him, I don't doubt for a second that he truly was as good a person as the testimonials portray him to be.

The cancer took its final toll on Greg on August 23rd 2009, 13 years after his first diagnosis, but I suspect Greg still managed to leave this world a winner.

Greg lived every single moment and accomplished more in his 32 years than most do in their entire life.

His sister Kristen described Greg as a person who never allowed his incredibly persistent illness to get the better of him emotionally.

Hopefully our donations to the Jimmy Fund can some day allow another person beat cancer and take the field at Fenway.

Greg Montalbano was laid to rest the day after what would have been his 32nd birthday, accompanied by more than 1400 people at his wake and a standing room only 400 at the ceremony. I'll leave the final words of this post to his sister Kristen.

"Happy birthday, Greg. Your life was far too short, but you pitched a perfect game."

Karma

Have to wonder what Rick Porcello is thinking now, sitting in the visitors' clubhouse at Fenway, watching Jason Bay tattoo a ball over the green monster, tying the game.

Toot, toot. Karma bus stop for Porcello.

Beantown

I know Porcello's young, but that was just f**king stupid. I just wish Youkilis would actually have given him a nice right hook.

Welcome to the big leagues dumbass.

Fountain of youth?

Naturally after my post about David Ortiz's seemingly unstoppable slide into retirement he made me, and all other doubters, eat our words.

After batting like a broken old man/drunken circus clown/[insert your own adjective here], he promptly turned his game back on. After his slow .230(avg)/.290(obp)/.623(ops) start in April he virtually fell off the cliff with a .143/.278/.590 May.

I started writing my original post in early June, but by the time I actually posted it BP had already hit the (no doubt incredibly hard to find) ON switch.

His .320/.409/1.062 June is almost on par with one of his career best years in 2007 when he batted an astoningishly .332/.445/1.066. (In 2006 he hit his career high 54 HR, but had lower overall numbers).

After hitting his first home run on May 20th, he hit 7 in June and so far in July has hit 2, including a 3 run blast against Oakland last night.

Getting out of a prolonged slump can be incredibly frustrating, especially when you're at a level of a Major Leaguer. As just an observer (albeit an above average such), Ortiz hasn't changed his stance, his kick or his swing plane. He doesn't look like he's lost weight or gotten fitter, yet his hands move oh so much faster than 6 weeks ago.

Being completely unable to catch up to a 91 mph fastball in May has turned into putting a 94 MPH heater into the stands in June.

It's not the first time I say it on these pages, and most likely not the last.

Mea culpa, David. Welcome back

Age...

When we're young, we can't wait to get older. Every birthday is celebrated with passion and gusto. Every birthday means we're another year closer to driving/graduating/leaving home/drinking/[fill in your desire].....

At some point we reach equilibrium, when we're pretty much the age we'd like to stay at - we're young and active enough to be able to do everything we want to do, yet mature and wise enough to realise the folly in some of the potential endeavours. For me, I suspect that age was around 33-34 years of age. I was fit, I was well educated and I made a comfortable salary.

If we believe the birth records, David Ortiz is 33 years of age. Yet for all of spring, he looked like a man who suddenly either forgot everything he ever knew about swinging a bat, or like the flick of a switch suddenly had his body, in a Duran like moment, just say: "No mas."

Ortiz could not buy a basehit for weeks. He looked like a very old man playing a young mans game.Bill Simmons looked at all of the obvious issues regarding Big Papi's extensive slump, but ultimately focused on age. And reminded us about a very important lesson:

Everything ends badly, otherwise it wouldn't end.

David Ortiz, at least until his recent 10-15 game potential recovery (I'm not counting my chickens just yet), seemed truly like a man who age had caught up with. At 33, playing 162 games per year is draining. If you're actually 36, it's probably even more so.

I tore my hamstring last year, at the age of 36, ironically when turning out of the batters box whilst trying to beat out a ground ball whilst playing for my Sunday amateur team.

A year later with tons of therapy and about 200 miles of running to strengthen the leg, I still feel it....a lot. Granted, I don't have access to the daily physio facilities a professional athlete has, but age has certainly caught up a little with me.

I carry a few extra pounds still, but stamina wise I'm probably the fittest I've been for 15+ years. I run and cycle more than 50 miles per week, I eat relatively healthy and I'm running a half marathon later this year and hopefully a marathon next year.

Still.

I feel my age much more than just a few years ago.

Is there a specific cut off point? Or is it, probably much more likely, a combination of factors? If so, what are they? If a professional athlete, making $13m per year, with access to every trainer, nutritionist, coach and fitness professional in the world yet still can't stop the aging process, what hope do we mortals have.

Still.

I don't care. I will run my half marathon, I will run my marathon next year, and if the powers that be allow me to, I will regain that six pack sometime this year.

So what if it still hurts when I turn out of the batters box to beat the throw, or when I try to steal 2nd.

2 weeks already?

Stephen King and Stewart O'Nan chronicled in their book "Faithful" , the Red Sox simply do not play well on the West Coast. Ever.

Well....

A quick look at Baseball-reference.com show that's not entirely the case. Since '99, going into this season, the Sox have a road record against the A's and the Halos of 40...and 40. As in .500.

Ironically King and O'Nan wrote that the Sox never win on the West Coast in 2005. Which was in fact the first year since 99 that the Red Sox didn't have an overall winning record in California.

From 2000 through 2004, had a 24-15 record in CA, but since then only a 12-21 record. Why is this?

Still, the opening 3-6 record in 2009 shouldn't be the cause of too much concern. Clearly, with the exception of Youk and Wake, the rest of the team is playing very much below expectations, and most of them should improve (and some, including Lowell, have shown that they are).

However, what is more a cause for concern is Big Papi. I watched 2 of the West Coast games, and every time he comes up to bat, my first thought is:

There's no way that wrist is 100 %

He looks uncomfortable in the batter's box, his swing looks noticably slower and pitchers clearly have his number right now. Bay and Drew have the potential to make up some of the power numbers, and Youk is on a mission to steal the MVP title from his team mate, but if BP remains a shadow of his former self, then with the loss of Mannyland, this team will struggle with power.

I've been wrong with predictions before, so but I'll be watching with a sligly baited breath....

However, with the punching bag otherwise known as the Orioles coming to town, I suspect the Red Sox will be substantially closer to .500 by the end of the series.

Aural memories....

I'm a music nut.

There's no other way to describe it.

After getting my first radio and cassette player (remember those?!?) at an early age, my life has been surrounded by music. More or less every significant event or time period in my life can be connected to certain songs, albums or artists.

Junior High? My metal phase, mainly Iron Maiden (The Power Slave and Somewhere in Time albums) and Van Halen. Albums on heavy rotation were 1984, 5150 and the aforementioned IM records.

High School? My guitar was my life in junior high and early high school and I listened more to guitarists than bands, so Eddie Van Halen, Clapton and Steve Lukather featured frequently. I moved after my first year in high school and making new friends expanded my musical genres, and I was introduce to The Cure and Depeche Mode, and later the first ventures into dance music - which also coincided with the beginning of regular concert going. Albums included Staring at the Sea, Violator, Fahrenheit and Lettin' Off Steam.

In college? More of The Cure, and got introduced to Red Hot Chili Peppers, Barenaked Ladies, D:A:D and Manic Street Preachers. This was also the period when I started DJing, both at clubs and on the radio, so my music taste became even more eclectic; discovering more house music, R'n'B, hiphop and soul. A Tribe Called Quest, De-La-Soul, Guru, KLF, NWA/Ice Cube and Snoop/Dr.Dre did many turns on the turntables. Most of my income was spent on records, and I had now amassed a substantial collection. Influential albums; Gold Against The Soul, Gordon, Blood Sugar Sex Magic and The White Room.

Emigrating? Moving from Sweden to the UK ironically made me embrace Swedish music to a greater extent as well as some new British discoveries. Eric Gadd and Blacknuss represented Sweden, whilst Fat Boy Slim and to an extent Oasis represented Britain. I also reacquainted myself with Aerosmith and Beastie Boys, and a certain Marshall Mathers came on the scene. Albums included Allstars, 2001, What's the Story?, You've Come A Long Way Baby, Nine Lives and Floating.

Often I'd go through more bands than clothes. Whenever I'd discover a new band, I HAD to get all the records the artist had ever released, and I'd listen exclusively for a few weeks or months until I found the next one. Some artists stuck, others were laid by the wayside.

Somewhat bizarrely, on a trip to India I spotted a video on an Indian music channel by John Mayer, and his music has played a big part in my recent life. His Continuum album came out days after discovering the events that lead to my divorce, but luckily I can now listen to the album without my first thoughts going back to that time period.

In the last eight to ten years my taste has returned a little bit to the more guitar oriented genres, and artists frequently played on my iPod(s) include Linkin Park, Lostprophets and probably my all time favourite - the Foo Fighters.

I've over the years been to more concerts in my life than I can remember, but I sadly never got to see Van Halen with their original line-up. Despite that I did manage to many of the bands I listened to more frequently, including this (at least in Europe) somewhat unknown band that my Canadian dorm-mate introduced me to in 1992 - Barenaked Ladies. All good things must come to an end, but it's still sad to find out that one of the lead singers, Steven Page, went down a path in his life that ultimately ended with him leaving the band. At least I managed to see the original line-up several times, including a very memorable New Years Eve in Phoenix, AZ.

Ah well, time to go to work, so it's Paramore and Prodigy on the iPod...

And over to Todd...

I recently joined a sportsbloggers group on LinkedIn and found this gem today. This is the kind of writing I aspire to produce.....still working on it. As many things in the post ring true for me in several levels, I wanted to share this...

Todd Civin writes:

It was the night of my first race. The Derry five miler. The most I'd ever run at work is 45 phone poles, or about three miles. "What's an extra two?" I thought. That was until I passed the three-mile mark.

Read his full post here.

Thank you Curt

For 2004 alone we should be grateful, but there are so many more things worth mentioning...some other time.

Thank you again #38.

Nice week

After a solid purge (and getting a ladder to the storage space in the loft), most of my belongings are now more or less arranged in a somewhat orderly fashion in my room.

Which is good.

Liverpool also beat Real Madrid 4-1, ManUtd 4-0 and Aston Villa 5-0.

Which is also good. (Which is an understatement!)

London also displayed itself to the fullest last week with glorious sun most of the week and mid teens temperature. My relatively short relocation has opened up new venues and my recent run through Richmond Park passing a herd of deer completely oblivious to people taking pictures and running past them. (Although the picture below was not taken by me...sadly)


Truly an oasis in the midst of metropolitan hustle. I was (relatively easily) convinced to sign up for a half marathon later in the year, so my training has now started in earnest. Which should no doubt help me in many other ways, including getting from 1st to 2nd base a fair bit faster.

Sometimes life is good, despite its challenges.

Materialistic madness

What you sow you shall reap. What goes in must come out. Etc. Etc.

So how come I'm so bloody surprised about the amount of stuff I have? How can I be shocked that my belongings (sans furniture) required almost 30 moving boxes? Which I now have to try to fit into a 100 sq ft room....

Not. Going. To. Happen.

I'm sitting here, trying to see the actual floor in between the masses of just....well....stuff.

So the next weeks will be spent weeding and sorting and filtering. Not used in the last year? Gone.

Things to do:

1. Hang up pictures. (Might seem like a strange priority, but you'd be surprised how much space pictures take on the floor. )
2. Sort and put away clothes. (Note: Try to avoid having a non-functioning washing machine for 2 weeks before moving house. Result is all your clothes in big blue IKEA bags.)
3. Pack up one more box of books and put into storage. (Surprising stat no. 47: Books take up space. And when you've had 10+ years in a large house, with plenty of bookshelves, restricting your large collection to 1 bookcabinet is not an easy task. )
4. Sort out parking permit.
   
5. Try to fit everything into the kitchen cabinets. (Clearly some weeding out needed here too.)
6. Go for a run. (This will actually be item no.1. October might seem far away, but so is 13 miles through London on foot. In 2 hours hopefully. Running programme starts in earnest today.)

Thank god I've got nothing to do then. At least I've got just about 3 weeks until the season starts in glorious HD.

Couldn't happen to a nicer guy

Or should the title of this post be "What Goes Around Comes Around"? Or perhaps "The wheels on the Karma Bus goes round and round".

Imagine the sorrow and sadness I felt after reading that even the Dallas Cowboys - the mecca that is the gathering of the maladjusted and the miscontent - have cut overall nice guy Terrell Owens.

So what's that T.O? 17 teams that have thrown your sorry ass out on the street? I cannot even imagine how you can ever have survived playing with such clearly inferior quarterbacks such as Steve Young, Jeff Garcia, Donovan McNabb and Tony Romo. Poor you...

Don't let the door slam you on the way out.

Fan...wait for it...aticism

So, most of my posts have been about one love - sports.

As we twiddle our thumbs waiting for the first pitch thrown in anger, I thought I'd orate a smidgen about another passion, both personally and professionally - television.

See, I get paid to watch TV...to simplify things a little bit. Yes, I know "we" (as in society) should not watch too much TV, and when given the choice of a nice day outside and or vegetating on the couch, I'm often the first one out the door. I play sports, I love to hike and enjoy fresh air walking around.

Still, I will not deny that I watch a fair bit of television, both professionally and personally. However, I'm quite selective about what I watch. I refuse to watch anything "reality" based - in my opinion it peaked with The Real World: San Francisco. Since then, a bunch of has-beens or never-will-be's trying to be the most outrageous person on tv just to get famous enough to be invited to turn on the Christmas lights in Oldham. Super.

Give me a properly scripted, well cast drama or comedy show any day. Over the years I've watched glimpses of more shows than I can remember, and followed a (not) suprisingly vast amount of shows.

Sooner or later though most show "jump the shark". Rarely does a series maintain the writing and energy produced in earlier seasons. Every now and then comes along the exception that drags you in. Now even the shows that fail to jump the shark have their ups and downs, but in today's TV market the leash is much, much shorter and many shows are cancelled long before they fulfil their promise.

Other shows seem to spend a weekly waiting game to see if they get renewed for another half season. Gone are the days of Cheers and Mash, both series that performed below average at launch before going on to run very succesfully for more than a decade.

Currently worth spending 45 mins on:

• Life - Damian Lewis of 'Band of Brothers' fame stars as a falsely imprisoned LAPD officer who is exonerated and returns to LAPD with a goldbadge, untold million$ and an urge to find out who framed him. All while in a Zen like frame of mind.
  
• How I Met Your Mother - A story told in flashbacks of how a group of 20-somethings live in NYC. It would be too much of a cop out to call it Friends for the next generation - plus this show is funnier.
• Entourage - Sex and the City for men. The city is LA. The sex is with a star actor, his hanger-ons and friends with countless number of starlets and wannabes. An HBO production, so not a PC dialogue in sight.

Now I'm off to see OC Ska...and then pack for my move this weekend. Joy and pain all rolled into one.