Driving home the other day and tuned in to hear what the Cardinals were doing on KTRS the other day. The Redbirds had played a day game that day (last game of a three-game set and getting out of town). John Marecek had thrown out a topic: "What's the best baseball player 'theme' song?" I wondered if anyone would call with my favorite. His favorite was Metallica's Enter Sandman for Yankee reliever Mariano Rivera. Wild Thing for Charlie Sheen's character was another notable, if fictional.
After the break, John came back and announced it was his worst topic idea ever. Only one person called in, and wouldn't go on the air ("Hell's Bells" for Trevor Hoffman was his offering, off the air apparently to John). He went on and on how he'd never drawn a big goose egg on his show.
So I ran in and googled the radio station's number, and they put me on the air. John was so happy to get any caller, but he loved my pick - he called me "the man", said I'd brought something to the table, reminded him of a theme he'd totally forgotten. He asked to stay on for a gift certificate that I'll probably never use.
What was the theme? The tune that ol' Ernie Hays used to crank out on the ballpark organ for Ken Oberkfell, the Card's third baseman throughout the '80s. Most of his RBI's seemed to come in contests where the Cards already had an 8 run lead. But he could field. We may have been slow back in the day, but it took a while to figure out why it was the Star Wars them - but it was for Obie, of course!
Showing posts with label Baseball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baseball. Show all posts
Monday, July 12, 2010
Friday, July 3, 2009
Injustice at the Hall!
Ok, not really. But more about that later.
Great trip to Cleveland this week to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nathaniel and his friend Pete Holohan made what they describe as their first sojourn there (of course, counting on that time in the future when they themselves will be inducted).
We started off things right with a Monday night visit to Progressive Field (f/k/a Jacobs Field, or "the Jake"). A short walk from our hotel room, we settled into some great seats right behind home plate. Pete treated us to burgers and waffle fries (well, he slipped me the cash later, but I had to fork over the actual $$ to the concessionaire because I bought a cold frosty one). The Indians were playing the White Sox, and there were quite a few Sox fans (good thing, it wasn't very crowded there, by St. Louis standards). Just the day before, the Indians and Cardinals had made a trade, swapping everyday player Mark DeRosa for reliever Chris Perez and a player to be named later. From the Indians' perspective, the other player better be named sooner rather than later.
Perez
entered for the Indians in the top of the 9th, with the Tribe trailing 2-0. He hit the first batter in the head (had to be removed from the game). Then he hit the second batter in the head. Then he walked the bases loaded. They left him in for some inexplicable reason. He got a couple of outs, but along the way coughed up three. Then wild-pitched in the fourth. As he left with two outs and the Tribe down 6-0, he was lustily booed off the field. Then of course Cleveland plated 3 in the bottom of the ninth, which would have been enough to win the game (pre-Perez). Oh well. We had fun--we certainly didn't care! We did notice the ridiculousness of that crazy mascot Cleveland has.
Then on to the main event Tuesday--a short walk in the other direction was the RRHF. It's a really cool building designed by architect I.M. Pei. The streets have giant Fender Str
atocaster sculptures to lead the way and whet the appetite. A modest Michael Jackson figure was in front of the hall, where people had laid little mementos, but there was no real MJ memorial set up yet (I'm sure it will come).
We entered and Pete and Nathaniel posed for the obligatory entry photo (forgot to check it out at the end--just now remembered--I was going to spring for the photo this time). You can't take photos inside the hall (bummer!), but it was the right tone from the beg
inning. Before you enter the exhibitions and get your wristband, there is a neat display of guitars, with about six Jerry Garcia guitars (these boys are real Dead-Heads, so that got them going), a Kurt Cobain guitar, and a Jimi Hendrix guitar, among others. (I don't think they were as impressed as I was with the Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins guitars there, but oh well.)
Then we parted ways and I let the boys ramble and explore. We'd bump into each other periodically and exchange the "did you see" this or that conversations, and then go to respectively check out what the other party recommended. I think they particularly enjoyed seeing the original lyric sheet for Hendrix's Purple Haze, Jeff Beck's well-worn Telecaster:
and the signature display (instead of plaques, like the baseball Hall of Fame, the inductees have their signature on a wall in the induction hall; the signatures are white against a black background and the lighting is quite cool). Pete and Nathaniel violated the no picture rule once, telling me they couldn't resist getting their picture beside the display of the little statuette the inductees receive when they get in. That was neat.
But the "injustice" they marveled at (2 really) was that neither Nirvana nor the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been inducted. There was a big Springsteen thing going on ("two whole floors to Bruce Springsteen?!?!" they said, "but no Nirvana??? Metallica is in but not the Peppers??"). The rules of induction are that you are not eligible until 25 years after your first record release. My dispassionate pleas to them that, they probably are right on the cusp of those numbers, don't worry, they'll get in, was not enough for these boys. Then we hit the gift shop. They were very reserved shoppers, opting mainly for some cool posters (the Who and the Grateful Dead for Nathaniel).
A late afternoon swim, then dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which itself had some pretty darn cool memorabilia. We googled Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and found the dates of their first releases, and when we found they were almost, but not quite, at 25 years, I think they felt more reassured. That, and getting their picture taken next to Jimi Hendrix's purple pants, which were on display at the restaurant.
A lazy day on Wednesday, sleeping in, trotting briefly down to the Science Center, then on the plane back, and voila, what a trip. Thanks to the Holohan family for taking us to the airport and then feeding us pizza on our return. Really one of the best parts of the trip was the "debriefing"--the boys are great, well-suited for each other, but VERY quiet (they retired to their room (we had a pretty large suite that worked out nicely, I slept on the fold out couch in the main room), and I looked in to see what they were doing and they were reading books!!). But it was so great to hear them just buzzing about the whole trip to Faith and Michael, Pete's mom and dad.
Bad dad--I also suggested a return trip (senior trip, anyone?) to the induction ceremonies in a few years. The clips they had of those ceremonies looked pretty darn cool! (Prince jamming on While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Tom Petty? C'mon!)
Great trip to Cleveland this week to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nathaniel and his friend Pete Holohan made what they describe as their first sojourn there (of course, counting on that time in the future when they themselves will be inducted).
We started off things right with a Monday night visit to Progressive Field (f/k/a Jacobs Field, or "the Jake"). A short walk from our hotel room, we settled into some great seats right behind home plate. Pete treated us to burgers and waffle fries (well, he slipped me the cash later, but I had to fork over the actual $$ to the concessionaire because I bought a cold frosty one). The Indians were playing the White Sox, and there were quite a few Sox fans (good thing, it wasn't very crowded there, by St. Louis standards). Just the day before, the Indians and Cardinals had made a trade, swapping everyday player Mark DeRosa for reliever Chris Perez and a player to be named later. From the Indians' perspective, the other player better be named sooner rather than later.
Perez
entered for the Indians in the top of the 9th, with the Tribe trailing 2-0. He hit the first batter in the head (had to be removed from the game). Then he hit the second batter in the head. Then he walked the bases loaded. They left him in for some inexplicable reason. He got a couple of outs, but along the way coughed up three. Then wild-pitched in the fourth. As he left with two outs and the Tribe down 6-0, he was lustily booed off the field. Then of course Cleveland plated 3 in the bottom of the ninth, which would have been enough to win the game (pre-Perez). Oh well. We had fun--we certainly didn't care! We did notice the ridiculousness of that crazy mascot Cleveland has.Then on to the main event Tuesday--a short walk in the other direction was the RRHF. It's a really cool building designed by architect I.M. Pei. The streets have giant Fender Str
atocaster sculptures to lead the way and whet the appetite. A modest Michael Jackson figure was in front of the hall, where people had laid little mementos, but there was no real MJ memorial set up yet (I'm sure it will come).We entered and Pete and Nathaniel posed for the obligatory entry photo (forgot to check it out at the end--just now remembered--I was going to spring for the photo this time). You can't take photos inside the hall (bummer!), but it was the right tone from the beg
inning. Before you enter the exhibitions and get your wristband, there is a neat display of guitars, with about six Jerry Garcia guitars (these boys are real Dead-Heads, so that got them going), a Kurt Cobain guitar, and a Jimi Hendrix guitar, among others. (I don't think they were as impressed as I was with the Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins guitars there, but oh well.)Then we parted ways and I let the boys ramble and explore. We'd bump into each other periodically and exchange the "did you see" this or that conversations, and then go to respectively check out what the other party recommended. I think they particularly enjoyed seeing the original lyric sheet for Hendrix's Purple Haze, Jeff Beck's well-worn Telecaster:
and the signature display (instead of plaques, like the baseball Hall of Fame, the inductees have their signature on a wall in the induction hall; the signatures are white against a black background and the lighting is quite cool). Pete and Nathaniel violated the no picture rule once, telling me they couldn't resist getting their picture beside the display of the little statuette the inductees receive when they get in. That was neat.
But the "injustice" they marveled at (2 really) was that neither Nirvana nor the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been inducted. There was a big Springsteen thing going on ("two whole floors to Bruce Springsteen?!?!" they said, "but no Nirvana??? Metallica is in but not the Peppers??"). The rules of induction are that you are not eligible until 25 years after your first record release. My dispassionate pleas to them that, they probably are right on the cusp of those numbers, don't worry, they'll get in, was not enough for these boys. Then we hit the gift shop. They were very reserved shoppers, opting mainly for some cool posters (the Who and the Grateful Dead for Nathaniel).
A late afternoon swim, then dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which itself had some pretty darn cool memorabilia. We googled Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and found the dates of their first releases, and when we found they were almost, but not quite, at 25 years, I think they felt more reassured. That, and getting their picture taken next to Jimi Hendrix's purple pants, which were on display at the restaurant.
A lazy day on Wednesday, sleeping in, trotting briefly down to the Science Center, then on the plane back, and voila, what a trip. Thanks to the Holohan family for taking us to the airport and then feeding us pizza on our return. Really one of the best parts of the trip was the "debriefing"--the boys are great, well-suited for each other, but VERY quiet (they retired to their room (we had a pretty large suite that worked out nicely, I slept on the fold out couch in the main room), and I looked in to see what they were doing and they were reading books!!). But it was so great to hear them just buzzing about the whole trip to Faith and Michael, Pete's mom and dad.
Bad dad--I also suggested a return trip (senior trip, anyone?) to the induction ceremonies in a few years. The clips they had of those ceremonies looked pretty darn cool! (Prince jamming on While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Tom Petty? C'mon!)
Sunday, January 11, 2009
"Go Kurt! Part Deux" or "Huh??"
Cardinals 33, Panthers 13? What? At Carolina?? These are the Football Cardinals, right??
I had a gig last night at a private party in a country club. In the distance I could see a T.V., which had the Cardinals/Panthers playoff game playing. I could see pretty much who had the ball, where they might be on the field at the time, and a very vague sense of what was going on. But I was way too far to see any screen rolls or running scores.
And I saw my man Kurt. A lot. And I mean a lot. I don't know what the time of possession margin was, but it must've been huge. I saw Jake Delhomme cringing after an interception (I didn't realize until well after the game was over Jake pretty much single-handedly lost the game by his lonesome by throwing five picks altogether).
But I was worried. I saw one Cardinal drive stall out with a field goal, and then another. I saw a Panther touchdown. And I had visions of a 7-6 Panther lead, and the Cardinals doing their best to one-up the Titans (who earlier that day had squandered opportunity after opportunity), and letting Carolina hang around, only to pull the game out. Then I saw a Cardinal receiver on a reception, getting tackled at about the four or five, but s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g to get the ball over the end zone line. I never saw the call on the play, for I was called on to play (a solo over a blues in E, or some such).
Then I saw the score in the 3rd quarter (27-7, apparently the halftime margin). Who knew? Who knew?
Watch out for the Cardinals next week in the game to get to the Super Bowl. My feeling after last night is that this team has come to the belief, somehow, some way, that they can actually win the game they are playing. That happens to a team sometimes...Hey, why can't we win it? Don't see any reason why not--let's go and get it done. No one expects them to win. I think teams in this mode don't necessarily expect themselves to win (e.g., Patriots of last year--they expected to win every game). It's different--I think they just don't see necessarily why they have to go out and meet expectations and lose--why not just win this next one? And the next one? And so on. This is what happened to the baseball Cardinals when they won the World Series in 2006. They limped into the playoffs, but suddenly were sort of healthy, and figured, why not win this game, this series, the next series, the whole enchilada?
So watch out. I don't think these football Cardinals expect to win. But I think they haven't also gotten the message they're supposed to lose: "What the heck, we're here, we've got football uniforms on, we've practiced and watched the films...what's say we just go out and score more points than the other guys?" And who better to lead them than Kurt Warner--I think we tend to forget that the Super Bowl winning Rams weren't supposed to go all the way either, even deep into the playoffs. But somebody forgot to tell that to weepy Dick Vermeil, "Mad Mike" Martz, "Marshall, Marshall, Marshall" Faulk, the Reverend Ike Bruce and that HyVee stock boy they had at QB for the fallen Trent Green.
Keep them away from anyone associated with the Chicago Cubs.
I had a gig last night at a private party in a country club. In the distance I could see a T.V., which had the Cardinals/Panthers playoff game playing. I could see pretty much who had the ball, where they might be on the field at the time, and a very vague sense of what was going on. But I was way too far to see any screen rolls or running scores.
And I saw my man Kurt. A lot. And I mean a lot. I don't know what the time of possession margin was, but it must've been huge. I saw Jake Delhomme cringing after an interception (I didn't realize until well after the game was over Jake pretty much single-handedly lost the game by his lonesome by throwing five picks altogether).
But I was worried. I saw one Cardinal drive stall out with a field goal, and then another. I saw a Panther touchdown. And I had visions of a 7-6 Panther lead, and the Cardinals doing their best to one-up the Titans (who earlier that day had squandered opportunity after opportunity), and letting Carolina hang around, only to pull the game out. Then I saw a Cardinal receiver on a reception, getting tackled at about the four or five, but s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g to get the ball over the end zone line. I never saw the call on the play, for I was called on to play (a solo over a blues in E, or some such).
Then I saw the score in the 3rd quarter (27-7, apparently the halftime margin). Who knew? Who knew?
Watch out for the Cardinals next week in the game to get to the Super Bowl. My feeling after last night is that this team has come to the belief, somehow, some way, that they can actually win the game they are playing. That happens to a team sometimes...Hey, why can't we win it? Don't see any reason why not--let's go and get it done. No one expects them to win. I think teams in this mode don't necessarily expect themselves to win (e.g., Patriots of last year--they expected to win every game). It's different--I think they just don't see necessarily why they have to go out and meet expectations and lose--why not just win this next one? And the next one? And so on. This is what happened to the baseball Cardinals when they won the World Series in 2006. They limped into the playoffs, but suddenly were sort of healthy, and figured, why not win this game, this series, the next series, the whole enchilada?
So watch out. I don't think these football Cardinals expect to win. But I think they haven't also gotten the message they're supposed to lose: "What the heck, we're here, we've got football uniforms on, we've practiced and watched the films...what's say we just go out and score more points than the other guys?" And who better to lead them than Kurt Warner--I think we tend to forget that the Super Bowl winning Rams weren't supposed to go all the way either, even deep into the playoffs. But somebody forgot to tell that to weepy Dick Vermeil, "Mad Mike" Martz, "Marshall, Marshall, Marshall" Faulk, the Reverend Ike Bruce and that HyVee stock boy they had at QB for the fallen Trent Green.
Keep them away from anyone associated with the Chicago Cubs.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Four-Letter Words
Cubs
Lose
Oops
Ouch
Alan Greenspan speculated that the current economic crisis might be described as a once-in-a-century event (let's put aside for now that he may have been one of the chief arsonists in that fire). That's still more frequent than a Cubs World Series win. Which all brings to mind another four-letter word familiar to Cubs fans:
Argh
If I may be permitted to offer one observation to those Cubs fans who read words on this space: A few years back, the Cardinals won 105 games in the regular season and were the class of major league baseball. Then they got whacked in four straight in the World Series by the dreaded Red Sox, ending the fabled Curse of the Bambino. It hurt. But, you know, it was a great season. Last season (2007), we stunk. Flat out. You know, it's much better to have a great season, even if you come up short.
I first got turned on to this concept being a Knicks fan back in the early '90s. The Knicks had gone to the finals (in a Jordan-less NBA) but lost in 7 to the Houston Rockets. Then Pat Riley promptly quit as head coach of the Knicks. "A wasted season" complained the players, and the NY sports press amplified that sentiment with their massive megaphone.
Not so fast, one astute writer observed. This was a great season and a great run of seasons for the Knicks. Yeah, they came up short, but they were competitive as hell, and it was fun to watch. In a few years, when no-one is showing up at the Garden on a Wednesday night to watch them play Golden State, the fans would look back with fond memories of the "glory years." It sure beat being mediocre.
Which all brings to mind yet still other four-letter words familiar to any Cubs fan:
Next
Year
Hope
Lose
Oops
Ouch
Alan Greenspan speculated that the current economic crisis might be described as a once-in-a-century event (let's put aside for now that he may have been one of the chief arsonists in that fire). That's still more frequent than a Cubs World Series win. Which all brings to mind another four-letter word familiar to Cubs fans:
Argh
If I may be permitted to offer one observation to those Cubs fans who read words on this space: A few years back, the Cardinals won 105 games in the regular season and were the class of major league baseball. Then they got whacked in four straight in the World Series by the dreaded Red Sox, ending the fabled Curse of the Bambino. It hurt. But, you know, it was a great season. Last season (2007), we stunk. Flat out. You know, it's much better to have a great season, even if you come up short.
I first got turned on to this concept being a Knicks fan back in the early '90s. The Knicks had gone to the finals (in a Jordan-less NBA) but lost in 7 to the Houston Rockets. Then Pat Riley promptly quit as head coach of the Knicks. "A wasted season" complained the players, and the NY sports press amplified that sentiment with their massive megaphone.
Not so fast, one astute writer observed. This was a great season and a great run of seasons for the Knicks. Yeah, they came up short, but they were competitive as hell, and it was fun to watch. In a few years, when no-one is showing up at the Garden on a Wednesday night to watch them play Golden State, the fans would look back with fond memories of the "glory years." It sure beat being mediocre.
Which all brings to mind yet still other four-letter words familiar to any Cubs fan:
Next
Year
Hope
Friday, May 16, 2008
Izzy
After a long preamble of "harrumphs" and pompous pontificating from all members (me included) of a little five-some at lunch today, a colleague posed the rhetorical question to the group of how the Cardinals could put Izzy on the disabled list if he didn't really have a disability, wondering whether there wasn't some rule or something on that. My response was that he does have a disability: He can't pitch.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Two Big Ones Last Tuesday
I'm referring of course to two unbelievable throws by Cardinal center fielder Rick Ankiel to nail two runners at third base in Tuesday night's game against the Rockies (what else did you think I was talking about?).
Third bagger Troy Glaus (the recipient of both missiles) said if he hadn't caught the balls they would have hit the base. Not sure that is true of the second one, but that was the truly astounding one, because he threw it from the warning track near dead center. Both on the fly. Maybe they could put him in as a pitcher--just hit a fungo to him in center field, then have him throw home a perfect strike.
The best part of all was watching the other players (bench included) react to the throws. Like the look on Tony's face when Rick hit that homer in his first game up as a position player last August.
Third bagger Troy Glaus (the recipient of both missiles) said if he hadn't caught the balls they would have hit the base. Not sure that is true of the second one, but that was the truly astounding one, because he threw it from the warning track near dead center. Both on the fly. Maybe they could put him in as a pitcher--just hit a fungo to him in center field, then have him throw home a perfect strike.
The best part of all was watching the other players (bench included) react to the throws. Like the look on Tony's face when Rick hit that homer in his first game up as a position player last August.
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