It is no secret that I’m a big Lake County Captains fan. We’ve had great times at Classic Park this year. Apparently we’ve had much more fun than manager Ted Kubiak has had recently. He must be feeling a lot like Lou Brown in Major League. Check out this article in the News-Herald and feel the white hot seething frustration.
After Casey Frawley lallygagged twice in the season finale Kubiak yanked him:
“Casey wondered why he was out of the game. That’s how much he doesn’t understand,” Kubiak said, his words carrying an unmistakable bite. “I don’t give a (expletive) if you’re tired. You can give an (expletive) effort out there.”
I’m also proposing a fun party game. Print out copies of this article and have your friends fill in the (expletives) in this and other quotes with the words they assume were deleted. The team with the most matches or most creative profanity can be declared winners.
I really like how Kubiak yanked Frawley and how Frawley seems to have “seen the light”.
Lets Go Caps!
Back when I was a kid, the scoreboard at Cleveland Municipal stadium had a cartoon of a vampire feasting at a dinner table. It played when there was a 3-2 count. Get it? The Count is Full. I like puns, so I liked that one.
The phrase “the count is full” means that there are the maximum number if balls and strikes in an at bat. The following pitch is called the “pay-off” pitch. But that is not exactly true as a foul ball will extend the batter’s at bat.
But there is another phrase in baseball describing the pitch count that is a pet peeve of mine. I’ll often hear an announcer say “That brings the count even at two and two.” But let’s take a step back. The batter is retired at three strikes and the batter advances at four balls. Therefore, the next pitch may retire the batter or extend the at bat. How is that even? Seems to me that a 2-2 count actually favors the pitcher.
Which brings me to the idea that a 3-2 pitch is actually “even”, as the batter may either retire or advance on the basis of the next pitch. But that doesn’t make for a fun animation, so a little joy of my childhood would be missing. I guess I just have to let this go.
Our eldest is crazy about baseball. From morning until night everyday the topic will usually turn to who the Indians should try and get or when he will play next. If he can’t play, he makes up imaginary line score on imaginary line-ups. And then there is always Wii MLB 2K10 – something to get us through the winter.
He is seven years old now. But here is a link to a clip from when he was two. Coco Crisp played for the Indians then. I think that is one of the reasons he is a lefty at the plate.
Slugger Jack 2005
I know full well that including “virgin” in the title of this post will send some strange search engine traffic my way. But a pithy title is half the fun of blogging.
I’m just old school enough to savor a freshly printed newspaper at my breakfast table.The experience of stepping out one’s front door to retrieve your local daily to with the birds singing, braced by the dew in the cool morning air is something that may be lost in a generation.I love to pour a cup of freshly brewed Joe and be the first to retrieve the Sports.
The very fact that I’m a happily married man is somewhat related to this enthusiasm.I met the Lovely Joyce on a blind date. In the first awkward moments, in an attempt to make conversation, I asked her what was the first thing she read in the Sunday paper. She said”Hal Lebovitz”. I knew then I had to marry her.
But the fruits of this marriage now makes it a very rare occasion that I actually lay hands on a pristine sports section. Our oldest (who is 7) will grab the sports section and consume almost every bit of data concerning the Indians, Captains or Cavs. There is hardly a day that I’ll see a page that isn’t crumpled, folded, mutilated or bearing the stain of a buttered bagel.
And do you know something? I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I was on my way home for Bowling Green yesterday. My trip took me past Jacob’s Field, and I was inspired to take this picture from my inexpensive camera phone. At about 60 miles per hour. The image turned out pretty good.
The game being played at the time turned out even better, as the Cleveland Indians secured the American League Central championship. Go Tribe!
The Indians Win! My camera phone captured the Indians celebrating on the field and the fans exchanging high fives in the stands after the Tribe beat the Tigers. My generous employer gave the staff a day at the ballpark. We saw my beloved Wahoos dash the hopes of the Motor City Kitties by completing a sweep. So now the magic number is three.
Not the singer, not the guy at the theater with a flashlight, notthe fellow who tries to squeeze “just two more” in an already packed pew.
I was a professional usher for the Lake County Captains in 2003. My brush with greatness was asking Fausto Carmona to please move the case to the video camera out of the aisle. Safety first, people!