There's an Injustice...

And no, it's not that I've gone this long without blogging, though I do apologize for it.

No, the injustice is here, and with baseball season underway, I figured I'd bring it up:

http://www.nfl-nba-mlb-nhl.com/category.sc?categoryId=98

There are some great, great, GREAT Movie/TV jerseys here. I mean, a Jimmy Chitwood Huskers "Hoosiers" basketball jersey? I'd wear that.

And there's some really good fictional players from many sports movies there.

The injustice comes when you note the selection from the Major League movies.

There's Wild Thing, Ricky Vaughn. There's Roger Dorn. There's Pedro Cerrano. There's Willie Mays Hayes. Theres...Tanaka? Well, okay. And that's it. Obviously, there are lots of people left out there. But one of them is glaring and I'm actually sorta steamed about it.

Where's #7? Where's Jake Taylor?

You can argue that the first movie is supposed to focus on a group of players, mainly Vaughn, Hayes, and Taylor (and to some extent Dorn, who, by the way, has many B.J. Surhoff separated at birth moments, especially after his "pep talk" to Vaughn before the penultimate strikeout that leads to the climax). I'd argue that it's Taylor's movie, the rest get second focus, and everyone else gets third. I'd even argue that while the focus clearly shifts in the second movie, it still has Taylor at the heart.

So where's his effin' jersey, you buttholes? I mean, you gave TANAKA a jersey. An offensive (though it's okay, its for laughs!) stereotype that, in the wake of all the good Japanese players that have crashed the MLB since looks so dated in the second movie...but you don't make one for Jake Taylor...the man not only was the heart and central focus of the original movie, but he ends up managing the team by the end of the second!

Yeah, you can get Taylor t-shirts on the web if you look, but I'm pointing a finger directly at that site for a grave failing on their part.

Side note: For those familiar with the movie, have you ever seen the alternate ending? Where Lou Brown hands in his resignation to Rachel Phelps, saying he has no intentions on hanging around while she machinates a move to Florida, and she tells him it was all a ruse? That she actually did love the team, and wanted to keep it in Cleveland, but it was on the verge of bankruptcy, so she not only personally hand picked him to lead them, but personally scouted the team, trying to find players she knew could turn it around. She then played the "Herb Brooks" ploy, uniting the team by being a bitch to them. Brown agrees to stay, but Phelps tells him he can never reveal what really happened, or her "true" nature. Test screeners liked having Rachel as the evil bitch villain though, so it was removed. You can find it on one of the special edition DVDs. Not to mention, she plays the bitch too often in the previous scenes, especially when alone with GM Charlie Donovan...an ending like that, while "happy" would seem jarring and out of place and too neatly wrapped up and perfect.

And just because I know you'd kill me if I didn't, your dose of cute:

And just for kicks, the final 20 minutes (cut in to two parts), which is basically the climactic win and you're in game they play vs. the Yankees for the pennant.

So Lets See...

What to talk about? Well, I got an iPhone, for I'm a slave to technology. For the same reason I talked my lovely wife in to a new TV (thanks honey!).

Erin remains irrepressibly cute, which is a good thing for her as her stinky diapers could be used as biological weapons, though I'm sure that's prohibited by the Geneva Convention.


Baseball season is right around the corner, so I'm excited about that. The Matt Wieters watch has officially begun!

Now excuse me as I watch Scrubs.

I admit it, I'm a bit immature...

But there's nothing quite as fun as a base-brawl.

But it's even better when it's not the girly girly shove matches. When players come out swinging haymakers...business is business, but that's personal.

Quick recap for the un-initiated: When Coco Crisp went in to second in a previous game, Rays SS Bartlett "dropped his knee" which is sort of an unwritten rule in a "gentleman's game." Crisp's retaliation for this was to, on a steal attempt and up by four runs, slide incredibly late and right at Ray's 2B Iwamura. If you don't follow baseball or don't understand what that would do...that basically puts all your momentum and directs at the other players ankle. He could have ended Iwamura's career.

So, pretty much everybody knew that Crisp was going to get thrown at yesterday. And he did. But instead of taking first like a man, he charged the mound. Rays pitchers Scott Shields knew he was coming and threw a devastating haymaker...well, it would have been had it landed:


But the best part is...Crisp had pissed off THE ENTIRE ROSTER of the Rays. Usually when this thing happens, you get a lot of people pulling off others...in this case, not so much. Commence pile on:



Here's a link to the video of the whole situation.


But what makes this even worse is that in the post-game interview, Crisp sounded like a complete d-bag.

Photo Hunt: Candy

I'm definitely stretching the limits of this one, but this was too good too pass up. This photo to me, represents...eye candy. I laughed SO hard when seeing this on the road, and a good personalized license plate is eye candy to me. So here you go...this weeks Photo Hunt photo...a person with a 21st Century sense of humor, taken with a camera phone two days ago:

PhotoHunt


Also, for my regular readers...I'm thinking about doing a weekly Orioles/general MLB post, with my own brand of humor. A regular feature. Whatcha think? Do I even have regular readers anymore?

An Open Letter To Roger Clemens:

Dear Roger.

I knew you were a headhunter, and dirty liar, but I didn't think you were an idiot. Thank you for proving me wrong.

Here's a tip for you, albeit it's a bit late, so you can't ever use it: if you're a relatively well known guy and are going to bring a lawsuit against someone claiming defamation of character...you might want to make sure your closet is so immaculately empty that the Pope could eat off its floor. Otherwise, every itty piece of dirty scrap that's in said closet will see the light of day. Kind of like it's doing right now.

I still think you're a lying sack of monkey feces about your PED use, but way to go on blowing any integrity you had left. You should have left well enough alone, and let history be your judge, as it will for everyone else who played in the now "steroid era." But you cried foul, and now look at how your name is getting dragged through the mud.

You should stop worrying about the defamation lawsuit and worry about getting a good divorce lawyer, bud.

I have to wonder what other things you might have "misremembered" about your past before trying to salvage your legacy? Because every smutty reporter is looking reaaally hard for more now.

Rhyme and Treason results!

Sorry to be a day late but I was kind of busy buying a car yesterday. My bad.

Dawn starts us off and can't get away from a Red Sox boast. Sorry, you lose. :D

...when the Mighty Papelbon strikes you out.

pope terry. brings us around the bend with
.. where the whole town smell of trout...


Want realism? Brian in Oxford

....Casey's steroids test's in doubt.

....David Wells gave Casey gout.

....Donald Fehr's a blowhard lout.

....Casey fouled one off his snout.


Cert. Never can make up his mind. Here's his second attempt.

.. - all the folks know it's a dud ville:
There's no Wal-Mart and the only traffic light in town's gone out.


whodatdare goes in two different directions.

... The peanuts and beer have run out....

From within the closet, mighty Casey has come out...


ohara gets all poetic on us

... But there is no joy in Mudville -
with hearts so full of doubt.

Oh Casey turn this game around the faithful crowd had cried
Oh Casey rise to the occasion, a thousand lips had sighed
And a thousand dreams were answered as that ball cracked o'er the field
And Caseys right to run was won and Mudville raised the shield.


chewy, you should have changed this to Yankee scout, that would have crushed the hearts of Mudvillians

.. The mighty Casey left with the Red Sox scout.

I'm actually a bit disappointed that some of you didn't attempt to kiss my backside with a Orioles reference. You probably would have won for sure. For SHAME people.

That being said, our winner this week is...


Brian in Oxford for his "Casey's steroids test in doubt" entry! Close second was ohara giving the poem a happy ending, but with Barry Bonds about to disgrac...er, I mean....break the all time home run record, I felt Brian knocked one out there. Pun completely intended.

Touch 'em all, Brian.

Iron Man

So, Cal Ripken is going to be inducted in to the Hall of Fame this Saturday. Most famous for "The Streak," which ended at 2,632 consecutive games played, he was also a pretty luminous player in his own right.

However, he's not the true Iron Man in the Baltimore organization.

Meet Ernie Tyler. Ball "boy" and umpire assistant for the Orioles. He's worked every Baltimore home game for 32 seasons.

His streak comes to an end Friday. Why? Old age finally creeping up on him? Hospital stay?

No.

He's going to Cooperstown to see Cal inducted.

It may not be irony, but it's definitely notably poignant.

Cooperstown: A Recap.

Nice town. Wouldn't want to live there.

A true one stop-light town

With a few possible exceptions, and I apologize to those of you who are those exceptions, Red Sox fans are the most obnoxious and rude baseball fans by far, if their Hall of Fame etiquette is any indication. Loud, rude, pushy, and kinda dumb. And if I had to hear "where's dah sawk?" one more time, I was gonna give someone a good sock.

How many baseball souvenir shops can one small town have?

Don't waste your money on the wax museum. While there's some funny things in there (like the "Pete Rose Induction" exhibit, or Steinbrenner and Constanza), they have a figure of Roger Maris in the right hands batters box, and misspell Vin Scully as Vin Sculty on a placard. No need for that.

I never knew that Cy Young wasn't his name. Cy that is. It was short for Cyclone. Annoyingly enough I can't remember his real name off the top of my head.

A League of Their Own took MANY liberties with the real AAGPBL. For instance, it was more like softball pretty much the entire period of WWII. Only near the end, in the 50s, did the rules become more like baseball.

There's something magical about watching a game at Doubleday Field, even if the "history" of Cooperstown is a bit bogus.

I highly recommend the Italian restaurant on Main Street next to the CVS.

There's a Chinese take out type place on Pioneer Street called Foo Kin John. That's hilarious.

I know many people named John who will get sent this image at times.

You shouldn't take a child under 5 or 6 in to a huge musuem. It took me and my friend about 7 hours to get through it. Think about what a place like that would do to a small child. Then think about what that cranky small child does to me. Now, make it like 100 cranky small children, but still only one of me.

Did I mention lately that I hate people?

Rhyme and Treason -Special Cooperstown Edition

Hello all, time for this weeks Rhyme and Treason. This week, we have "Casey at the Bat." However, the poem is much too long to post the whole thing, so only the last stanza is included. So try and remember it's about baseball, and have at it!

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville -

readygo

Probably Too Little, Too Late

However, I'm glad they did something.

Goodbye Sam Perlozzo. You were an excellent coach, but a horrible manager. I'll have fond memories of you sprinting to the third base coach's box. I'll have bad memories of your insistence to over use bullpens and the inexplicably poor bench you thought was essential, and how you let the inmates run the asylum.



Good luck in future endeavors.

Play Ball (Bart's Eye View)

Here's a very small sampling of pictures I took last night at the Oriole game (another freakin' loss). These are the ones I'm particularly proud of.

Freddy Bynum sliding back in to second on a pick off play. Note the ball coming towards first from the right side of the frame.

Cory Doyne, only brought up to the club that afternoon, warming up in the pen.



Doyne's first pitch as a Major Leaguer.



And for perspective, a shot with very little zoom applied.



Have a good Sunday, everyone. Don't forget to throw up your last lines for yesterday's Rhyme...and Treason.

Haiku!

Cal Ripken's secret?
He is really a robot.
The outlet is proof.

Photo taken at the Sports Legends Musuem outside Oriole Park at Camden Yards. They painted a mural over the ticket booth, which seemingly wasn't meant to be used for that purpose.

How dare you CHEER at a ballgame!?

Not all of the ushers at Camden Yards are a joke.

But some of them are. And it's absurd. Every year, with the O's down and the Yankees and Red Sox up, and relatively close, Camden Yards gets "invaded." And for some reason, the ushers seem to have been told to favor the out of town fan. Even if the out of town fan is over the top vulgar, making the scene, etc etc. I relay this story posted on the Orioles Hangout forums, by poster S'GOS. I wish this story was an isolated incident. Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. In actuality, I've heard hundreds of similar tales.

I'm a long time reader, but first time poster. Last night's game inspired me to finally get on here and put in my two cents. I'm a young guy, 2 years removed from college, work for a baseball scouting and college placement organization, and live and breath Baltimore sports. I try to hit up about 40 or so games a year. My friends and I always occupy the bleachers just right of the foul pole next to the flag court. We cheer our lungs out, start chants, drink a few beers, and get a little rowdy. But we have always took pride in our abilities to keep profanity and disrespect to a minimum. We bring nothing but positive vibes and try to get other O's fans "into" the game. Basically, to steal a quote from Raven's games, "Don't be a jerk!!"

Well, last night was one of the most dissapointing moments of my life. We ventured to our usual spot to find it littered with Red Sox fans. Big Deal, its something I have come to expect, but it didn't mean I was going to shy away from cheering for my team. Lowen started off really well and we were getting up on 2 strike counts. The Orioles scored early so we were up for that as well. There were a few Red Sox fans behind us that didn't take to kindly to that and the New England smut that followed made me sick to my stomach. I tried to stay oblivous to it, making a few exceptions to spin around and throw my hands up as if to give them high fives, but it was all in good fun.

Around the 5th inning or so, we were cheering durring a two strike count for Lowen and the bombs started dropping again, and the ushers came over and started pointing at us oriole fans to sit down. I ran down to the usher to see what he thought was suitable behavior for a home team fan. I kept my cool and even after the usher refused to make eye contact with me, I returned to my seat.

It is the 7th inning now, and BRob is up with a 1st and 3rd opportunity. We start cheering again and trying to get the O's fans into it. Yet again, the Sox fans start dropping bombs faster the F15 fighters over Baghdad. This time the ushers meant business. 3 Ushers came up and singled me out and and told me I had to leave. I laughed it off at first like it had to be a joke or something. Next thing I know there are 5 cops waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Well, at this moment, my heart broke. I couldn't believe what was about to happen. The jerk Sox fans behind me started a "hey hey hey goodbye" chant as I was ushered out. The best part was this; a handful of Red Sox fans came to my defense. They ran down and attemped to stop this tragedy saying, "he wasn't doing anything wrong at all" and "he was cheering for his own team, let him stay." But to no avail. That one butch looking usher ran over like a troll and asked for my ticket, she took it and wished me a smug "good night." I was tossed through the front gates "Jazz from Fresh Prince of BelAir" style. It was embarassing and heart breaking. I turned to the cop who threw me out and asked him where he was from. He said Baltimore, and I asked if he knew what he did was wrong. I told him I understood he was doing the "man's" work and that I have nothing against him, I just wanted to hear him say what just happened was wrong. I told him to shake my hand if he agreed, and shook it.

Luckily for me, I had 2 tickets that night. My buddy from work had given me 2 free tickets, and I couldnt find a taker on the other. So I ran around the warehouse and entered again on the other side. I watched the rest of the game from the bullpen area, and watched Pena's bomb land right in front of me. That was a dagger!! The stadium exploded and I was sulking. I told a few O's fans in the area my story from the night and they couldn't believe it. I made my way back over to meet up with my friends on Eutaw Street around the beginning of the 9th. They got a good laugh out of the whole experience but we all agreed that we needed to reevaluate our outlook on this organization. The game ended and we exited through the same gate I got tossed through and I actually made eye contact with a few of the ushers that threw me out. I shot them a smile as they bickered to one another and stared me down.

The moral of the story:

You can't take back what was never yours.

I cheered
I stood
I believed

But why?

Why do I put so much into something that obviously doesn't want a part of me?


I will continue to support the team, and attend as many games as I can, but this isn't my team, its the "man's"

The usher's at Camden Yards need to be reminded why they're there. Not all of them, but some of them. You're not the No Fun Police. Kicking people out for cheering for their team is absurd, especially when people are throwing out obscenities in the same section. Like I said, I wish this was an isolated incident, but it's far too common.

Straighten your ushers up, Orioles. This is yet another reason why your attendance is falling fast.

CSI: Cooperstown

So, last night during the Red Sox/Orioles game (I didn't see it, thankfully since the O's predictably blew it), O's announcer Gary Thorne cavalierly mentioned to color man Jim Palmer that he had a conversation with Sox catcher Doug Mirabelli a few years back. The topic? The infamous bloody sock of Curt Schilling. The meat? That Mirabelli told him that the blood was painted on as a PR stunt.

Mirabelli, of course, follows the first rule: Deny, deny, deny.

But you know what? I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if it were true. Schilling is a great character, but he's not exactly the most credible person around. What do they call him? Red Light? Something like that, to indicate that he goes running for the camera when he sees that red light come on.

Not to mention that Gary Thorne is a very well respected member of the media. He's not prone to hyperbole or making something up just to get a rise out of people.

So, the question is...was Thorne joking? Was Mirabelli joking with Thorne? If that's the case, why did he not say so, instead of denying that they even talked about it? If Thorne believed the story, why was he so cavalier about it? Does he think everybody thinks it was faked? And why did I say the question and then ask multiple questions?

People are already weighing on the subject. ESPNRadio's Mike and Mike say go test the sock, since it's at Cooperstown. People have chimed in and said that the sock on display still shows red, instead of brown, which dried blood usually turns after over 2 years.

The world may never know. Or perhaps not even care.

I know this. The Red Sox players are really laying in to Thorne over this, so if turns out to be either a massive misunderstanding, or that Thorne wasn't lying in the slightest, I hope they have the cajones to apologize. Because you know Thorne will if he's in the wrong.

SOCKGATE. DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUN.

I've got nothing to say...

I didn't kill your baby today...

Sorry, old song reference.

Didn't want you guys to think I was dead, or worse, a zombie. So I figured I'd give a shout out.

Thoughts I think I thought tonight:
I HATE YOU JOE WEST! CALL A CONSISTENT GAME YOU MUNCH!

Gee, Paul Bako, that was a heckuva hit you took from Morneau...it was enough to make a so called "all defense" catcher look like a little leaguer later in the game.

I HATE THE SUCKTRODOME! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH FOUL TERRITORY! DAMN YOU ALL THE HELL!!!

Nick "Honeybear" Markakis is the new Nick Markakis...

Now, a haiku for this night of angst.

Even with Johan "off"
The O's can't capitalize
oh so typical.

Can I borrow a feeling?

So, the heir apparent to the Yankee dynasty hit a slight snag. The fact that his marriage is ending. Why does that matter? Well...he was married to the Boss's daughter. Woopsie.

But I have to ask, does this remind anybody else of The Simpsons?

Milhouse's parents get divorced, and his father Kirk loses his job at the cracker factory as a result. Because Luann's father is the owner. Oh, and because crackers are a family food, of course.

I don't know, having real life imitate a Simpson's plot is funny enough, but for it to happen to the Yankees heir apparent is even funnier to me.

Better luck next time, Mr. Swindal.

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2816598

Obligatory Baseball Post

Just finished watching "For Love of the Game," and it got me to thinking. And no, not about how I actually like that movie, overly sentimental chick flick disguised as a baseball film that it is (sue me). No, about how one of the most embarrassingly awkward things in sports fandom is to be at your teams park and be no-hit/perfect gamed.

I was there, April 4th 2001, when Hideo Nomo no hit the Baltimore Orioles. Considering the overall career of Nomo, that was pretty much the pinnacle of the low point (I know, I know) of the O's ineptness these past 9 seasons. But beyond being a little buzzed, and taking care of my VERY drunk college buddy in the upper decks of Camden Yards (he actually fell down the aisle stairs at one point. Not too far, but enough), I remember it pretty clearly. In fact, I had to wake my friend up to what was going on around the 7th inning, since he was too drunk to notice the magnitude of the situation.

Part of me hates that it happened. The other part is happy that I saw a no-hitter in person in my lifetime. Even if it was against a division rival on the second bloody day of the season...sorry, there's the hate I was talking about. I'm sure there are other accomplishments that invoke that same feeling, that sense of "I was there for history, even if it was at the detriment of my team" but damn if I can think of them.

In the spirit of the upcoming season, here are a few pictures of my favorite current Orioles.

Starting pitcher Erik Bedard. This could be the year he becomes elite. I sure hope so.
Second basemen and resident "aw, look how small he is and all the women fans love him" guy, Brian Roberts.
Right fielding sophomore hoping to not hit that sophomore slump, Nick Markakis. If only he hadn't started slowly last year, he could have been a stronger contender for RotY.
Now ex-right fielder, former first baseman who can't seem to get the hang of playing there, maybe a DH but also maybe gonna be in LF some Jay Gibbons. Looking for all the world like he's hurt himself in this picture. Which is possible, since he should have "oft-injured" permanently added to his name. But I have a soft spot for Rule V'ers that actually build a halfway decent Major League career.
And last, Miguel Tejada, who managed not to whine this off season. Way to go Miggy! I like this picture of him leapfrogging Gary Matthews, Jr, while wearing an '83 throwback jersey. I wish we'd get that cartoon bird back...though I do prefer the solid black/orange bill of the 60s and 70s to the 80s white face version.