Baseball? I Thought This Was a Hockey Blog!

Look O’s fans, you need to settle down a bit. Mark Reynolds is exactly who he is meant to be. A man with the ability to product majestic, towering home runs and also a man who swings through a shockingly large number of pitches. That’s who the O’s traded for, and that’s who the Orioles got. No sense getting upset because he’s hitting .190. After all, he is leading Baltimore in home runs.

The struggles of Reynolds, the blonde hair bomber, is a microcosm of the 2011 Baltimore Orioles. Before the first pitch was thrown this season, the club was shaping up as a team that would struggle it’s way to mediocrity. They would be an improvement over last year, but still one or two players away from serious competing with the Red Sox, Yankees and Rays.

The Orioles of 2011 were not created to win the World Series, they were not created to win the American League East, they were created to find out where the organization stood in terms of its pitching development. Look at who has made up the starting rotation this year - Zach Britton, Chris Tillman, Jake Arrieta, Brad Bergesen, embattled Jeremy Guthrie, and now finally Brian Matusz. This year the higher ups find out if they’ve been groomed to contend in the majors or if it’s time to jettison them.

Over at third base, Reynolds wasn’t brought in to win a batting title or a Gold Glove. He was brought in to be a power presence in the middle of the lineup. Because he hits in the middle of the lineup, he’s going to come to the plate with runners in scoring position. And because he strikes out a lot he’s going to leave a lot of those runners stranded. That’s the bad you take along with his ability to hit the three-run homer.

Where this team ends up come October still remains to be seen. Some weeks their young pitchers have looked unhittable. Conversely, there have been weeks they’ve been eminently hittable. That’s part of the reason the team has been so streaky. Win four games then lose eight in a row. Win another 4 games and then lose five more contests. Unfortunately, that is the bane of running a young pitching staff out there.

On a player level, Reynolds has weeks where he is the fearsome slugger that fans hoped would be launching blasts into the bleachers all summer long. Other days he appears professionally inept at the plate. Personally, I’ve seen few hitters swing through pitches with the shocking regularity that Reynolds does. It’s not like he chases lots of bad pitches, say as Adam Jones does from time to time. Reynolds swings though fastballs as if they were puffs of smoke that dissipate into a fine mist whenever his bat comes close.

There are reasons other than having a young core of pitchers that is hurting this year’s squad. The overall absence of power is one thing. From Nick Markakis to Luke Scott to Vlad Guerrero the inability to put the ball over the fence is clearly hurting the team. This is not a team built to manufacture runs like the Rays. This is a team that moves station to station, and waits for a slugger to put one on Eutaw Street.

The bullpen hasn’t been able to pick up for struggling starters either. Whatever talent Michael Gonzalez once possessed seems to have evaporated into thin air. Kevin Gregg seemingly can’t go more than three hitters without walking at least two of them. The rest of the bullpen has been maddingly inconsistent as well.

However, instead of dwelling on what isn’t going well, why not look at the good? Jones, despite his occasional obsession with swinging at sliders in the dirt, is blossoming into one of the young stars in the league. A bona fide yearly Gold Glove candidate he already has several highlight reel plays on the year. At the plate he is showing a blend of power, speed and hitting that hasn’t been seen in the O’s outfield for years.

Zach Britton, the rookie southpaw who should have started the season in the minors is proving the doubters (such as this writer) wrong. A quality start machine he has baffled major league hitters by using his above average fastball to set up a devastating slider. His recent run of tough starts might indicate that he’s hitting a bit of a rookie wall, but he appears to have the pitching smarts to make the necessary adjustments.



How about the blossoming of the Catching Jesus? Matt Wieters is showing how patience and belief in a prospect can pay off. The “Mauer with Power” might not be delivering light tower home runs just yet, but he is excelling at every other aspect of his game. He personally controls other team’s running games by cutting down 40% of would be base stealers. The pitchers and coaching staff rave about his ability to handle the pitching staff and his production at the plate is increasing at a rate that makes him a viable All Star candidate.



So O’s fans don’t despair so much. The season is but a third of the way done. At this time last season they were a unfathomable 20 games out of first base, this year just six. The team is light years ahead of last year talent wise, and should only improve now that some key pieces are returning to the line up and rotation. This is not a team that is under achieving, it is a talented, but flawed product that at least one year away from serious contention.

So go the Yard, drink a Natty Boh and munch on some of Boog’s BBQ while watching a team develop. Enjoy the sun and the face that you can watch a game at one of the best parks in the league for a cheaply scalped ticket. Look for the good things on the field and don’t dwell on the negative. Much like a towering Reynolds home run the losing seasons will soon be going, going, going, gone…..

Chicago Photo 10 - Rainy Days Downtown

 

Ahh the Chicago skyline in all its reflected glory. The Duchess and I decided to spend a Saturday at the aquarium. Mainly because they have a jelly fish exhibit that looked pretty cool. Apparently half the city of Chicago thought it would be a good idea as well. The line stretched out the doors, down the steps and wrapped back around itself two or three times. There was no way it was less than a 3 hour line.

Sooooo with that plan scrapped we took a hot dog break. Well, she had a hot dog, I had a bag of chips. We watched the Segway tours zip by, the bike tours ride by and the tours of grumpy kids and exhausted parents stagger by. What to do with the rest of our day? Food, eh wasn't totally hungry, but I know I was feeling a bit parched.

To the Billy Goat! Underneath Upper Wacker Drive lies the dive bar/ hamburger stand made famous to locals by the writings of Mike Royko and to the nation by Jim Belushi on Saturday Night Live. That's right, "Cheezebooger, cheezebooger, cheezebooger. Chips. No Pepsi, Coke!"

As we wandered up Michigan Ave, dodging tourists and street performers the skies clouded over. They've been clouded over since February it seems. Or if it hasn't been cloudy it's been super cold. It's been the winter that never ended. Not exactly the weather you want when you're trying to convince a Florida born and bred girl that the weather here is wonderful in the spring.

Any who, we stopped at Millennium Park for a quick rest room break (it's a rather lengthy stroll from the museum campus to Miracle Mile) and I snapped a photo or three. The one above is the skyline reflected by Anish Kapoor's iconic sculpture Cloud Gate. More commonly known as "The Bean" it's kidney shaped, all reflective surface can yield unique perspectives on the city.

We did make it to the Billy Goat, had some food, washed it down with some beer and watched Barcelona eviscerate Man U in the Champions League final. A dreary day, but a good one.

Victory or Loss - Game Sevens Drive Me Insane

I probably should have posted this up earlier, but I decided to head to Wrigley and freeze my cajones off at a thrilling Cubs/Pirates matinee. However, I’ve invested too many keystrokes in it by now to not post it. Congrats to the Bruins – they brought the pressure in Game 7 and deserved the win. No on with the regularly scheduled column….

No fan really likes a Game 7. If they tell you how much they enjoy one, or how much they are looking forward to one they are lying. Ok there is one case where a fan might say he’s looking forward to a seventh game. That’s the fan whose team is down 3-2 after Game 5.

It is in the aftermath, that their greatness is born. But that is only after the final whistle is blown ane the handshake line is through. Before that, it’s all nerves, tension and Alka Seltzer. Every shift is important, every penalty kill is breath stopping. Even goals are only momentary relief. Once the puck drops again the pressure is back on.

I’m sure you’re asking yourself, “Why didn’t Justin do a live blog, or a running diary of Game 7?” Well, concerned reader, allow me to explain. If I was to catalog my thoughts of a Game 7 they would all pretty much be the same:

In the defensive zone:

“Oh my god…ohmygod..getitout..getitout…GET IT OUT! Oh no a shot! Is it in? No it’s in the corner! GETITOUT….GETITOUT….GETITOUT!

In the offensive zone:

“Shoot it! No don’t shoot it, it’ll get blocked! Shoot it! Keep it in! Is it in? No it’s in corner! Pinch! No don’t pinch! How much time is left? Eighteen minutes. Too much time. No not enough time! Shoot it! Score lots! Oh god it’s going the other way!”

So instead of subjecting you to that for 60 minutes I’ll give you a brief synopsis of my past Game 7’ in order of enjoyment.

3. Game 7 2004 Eastern Conference Finals against Philadelphia. I’m sure this was a great game. How could a 2-1 win not be great? The truth is – I only saw about five minutes of the game. See I was on a quasi-date with my future girlfriend. To her eternal credit , she offered to cancel the date when she realized it would clash with the game.

I demurred and we went to see Casablanca at the historic Tampa Theater, and the rest is history. We did go for post movie drinks at The Hub (another Tampa institution) and celebrated the Lightning’s first trip to the Stanley Cup Finals with a host of eclectic bar mates.

It actually wasn’t that hard of a decision. Hang out with a girl I really like or drive myself insane watching a hockey game I have no control over. I really, really don’t like watching Game 7’s. I’m not good company. I set in front of the TV (or computer) hunched over staring intently. I don’t make small talk, I don’t eat. I am an ass. Sorry. I was glad she gave me a reason not to watch it, and for two hours it was out of my mind.

2. Game 7 2011 First Round against Pittsburgh. We’ve covered this game already in recent weeks. Tue Penguins had one hope – get a lead early and hold on. In my mind the Lightning were playing with house money having won Games 5 and 6 to tie the series back up. All of the pressure was on Pittsburgh and once the Lightning got the lead it was over.

1. Game 7 2004 Stanley Cup Finals. If you think I’m a mess for normal Game 7’s imagine what it was like for a Stanley Cup Final Game 7. Put this way, I turned down a ticket to go. It wasn’t a free ticket, but I had enough discretionary income at the time to afford it (unlike the Super Bowl ticket when the Ravens played in Tampa). Frankly I needed pacing room and didn’t think the fans in my section would appreciate that too much. So alone in my condo I watched the game. And I paced. And paced. I think I may have scared the neighbors when Fedatenko scored his first goal. Definitely scared them when he scored his second.

My Dad (living in Hawaii at the time) asked me to give him updates. I called him between periods to keep him updated. He was on the golf course, and I remembered thinking, “How can he be so care free during a Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals?”

Oh yeah, he’s not a Lightning fan. I’m not even sure he’s a big hockey fan. But it was nice of him to show interest in his kid’s obsession.

Other than that I don’t think I spoke to anyone during the game. After the game, my somewhat intoxicated friends who did attend the game called and tried to have a certain Tampa sports celebrity talk to me. However, that’s a story for another time.

So now as I finish this up, I have to figure out where tonight’s game fits in the rotation. Unfortunately, it’s the first time they’ve suffered a defeat in a Game 7. I’m stuck between happiness because of a season no one expected and disappointment because they were so close to moving on.

I’m sure with time the disappointment will fade (an announcement of a long term contract for Mr. Stamkos would help as well) and pride will prevail. As far as the series on the whole it’s probably one of the better ones I’ve ever witnessed. It had everything a hockey fan could want and showed two evenly matched teams gutting it out to the very end.

The End

Sad Panda says it all.

Well except for - Go, Canucks, GO!

A Through The Mail Day

A couple of years ago I picked up a pack of Upper Deck's first incarnation of a hockey based retro set - Champs. I gave it a hearty "meh" and moved on my way. Too few cards in a pack and a dastardly mini card.

I'm not a fan of the mini card. They always slip out of the pack and hit the floor. They're almost always part of multiple parallels and have mini serial numbers. Are they short printed, over printed, normal printed? Who knows?

So I put them in a box and promptly forgot about them. Till last winter. Then I decided to parse down the collection. What to do with these lonesome cards? Well why not send them out for autos? So I did.

Chris Pronger sent one pack (even personalized!) and now I got back my second. After more than a year - Carolina Hurricane star Eric Staal sent a signed card back.





Now I guess I should get the rest of his brothers to sign something, eh?

A Playoff Beard Deconstructed

One of the great joys that I haven't been able to partake in for the last few years is growing a playoff beard. The tradional means for a hockey fan to show his committment to his favorite team. Honestly, it's a stupid tradition, since it has no affect on the outcome of the games. But since when are fans rational?

So with the Lightning returning to the playoffs, I've abandoned the razor and let the hair sprout; much to the disdain of my better half. On more than one occasion she's referred to it as a "homeless man's beard," sighed and shook her head in the way that can only mean, "why am I dating this imbecile?" I'll admit, for six weeks of growth it is a bit patchy, but hey it's the best I can do.

Unfortunately (or fortunately for some), due to a work related opportunity the beard would not see life after game six no matter what the outcome would be. With the Lightning facing elimination, a very, very small part of me was hoping they would lose so that my conscious would be alleviated. Then it wouldn't be my fault if they lost the series. Because as you know, the presence of a beard on a fan 1000 miles away directly sways the outcome of a playoff match between professionals.

For posterity's sake I decided to document the take down of the beard, and to show a couple of fashion choices I was contemplating unleashing on the world.

Base point:



Bask in its scruffiness. Look at those gray hairs. When did I get old? How has my boss let it go this long without saying anything? Why am I not randomly searched when I get on the train? In my mind it's thick and lustrous, yet not so much when captured on film.

Living in Chicago I'm taken for a chubby hipster more often then I am a hockey fan. I've never lived in a town that embraces the scruffy beard more than the Windy City. Granted most of them are on 110 lb vegans that hang out in coffee shops, but still they're all over the place. As for being called a hockey fan, since the Blackhawks have been eliminated hockey doesn't exist here anymore.

Let's begin the destruction.

New Look 1:



Nice Elvis sideburns and an out of control goatee. My buddy, Saint Leo Mike, once grew the world's most hideous goatee. I think he was making some sort of anti-establishment protest at the uptight company he worked for. Imagine the goatee you see here and multiply it by 100. It was beautiful.

I tried the big sideburns once in my 20's. It lasted about two days. Alas, kids in those days associated more with Brandon from 90210 than they did with Elvis. Damn heathens!

Look, I know goatees went out with the Y2k hoax, but I lack the sharp chin of the classicly good looking. My face gets really round when it's lacking facial hair.

Let's make a slight alteration:



Kept the sideburns and tried to trim the goatee into a Fu Manchu. I didn't quite pull it off and the people I'm meeting with in a day might question my judgment if I rolled up wearing a suit and sporting this facial hair.

Much to the exasperation of my mother I once sported a true Fu Manchu. It the summer after my freshman year in college. I had earned a spot as the closer on my American Legion team and felt that I should adopt a fearsome image. After all, when you can barely break 75 with your fastball you need to get an advantage anyway you can.

At the same time my mom wanted the family to take a portrait together. You know for memory. Please remember this is before digital cameras were affordable and camera phones were as available as hover boards. If I remember correctly, she asked me about 3 or 4 times to shave it off, but I refused. Mainly because I thought it was cool (it wasn't) and because I look even dumber with a regular mustache or completely clean shaven.

She let it go, I'm sure if you ask her she would have grounded me if she could, or smacked the hair off my face if it was socially acceptable to slap you kids. And she would have been right to do so. Frankly, it was a dumb thing to do (especially since I ended up shaving it off three days later). My mom is pretty good at letting me make my own mistakes and not telling me "I told You".

But the photo still remains out there. The smiling, happy family. Not only did I rock the Fu, I also had a Star Wars tie on. No I wasn't dating anyone at the time, why do you ask?

The final product:



Slightly more professional, with much less gray! It even got the girlfriend's stamp of approval. Hopefully, it pays off. Sacrifices I make for my career, sheesh.

For the record the beard was shaved off before Game Six was over, so the Lightning won despite the decimation of my facial follicles. Now on to Game 7!

Cards in the Mail. I Got Cards in the Mail!

It's Monday. The sun was out all day, but now it has set over beyond the El Tracks. Hockey is on the computer and Mike Smith is in the net. Wait, what? Insert image of jaw comically hitting the floor. Mr Smith Goes to a Playoff Game? I guess that's cool, but you know what's cooler than that? New cards!

First up is the newest Vincent card for the collection. The captain has had a bit of an inconsistent Eastern Conference Finals, but I expect him to re-enter beast mode for the remainder of the series.




A Donruss 2010-11 base card. Sexy, ain't it? I picked this one up out of box I split with my co-worker Scotty. If you've paid attention to any previous breaks, then you know I didn't actually open the pack that this came in. I had to trade him a Patrick Kane or something for it. I might be semi-responsible for Scotty getting back into the hobby. So that's kind of like me getting someone hooked to heroin, except for the fact that cards can't kill you, aren't illegal and won't make you all heroiny looking. Other than that it's the same.

Speaking of Scotty, he provided the next two cards.




A Topps Cal Ripken All Star Insert. That's right kids, back IN MY DAY these were the only chasewe could look forward to. As a matter of fact, I can't even remember how we got them I think they were some sort of redemption set.

Sitting next to Cal, and checking off another "want" is an Eddie Murray 1990 Topps Mini Leaders. It's so weird to see him in a Dodgers uniform. I know it happened, I know why it happened, but it just isn't right. He should always be an Oriole. Can't we have a Ministry of Truth (card edition) go back and airbrush all of these old cards?

Moving along. If there was an award for best named blog, my vote would go to Plaschke, Thy Sweater is Argyle. Any blog that contains both "Thy" and "Argyle" is aces in my book. So in exchange for a Manny Relic what did he send back? Gold baby! Cardboard Gold!



A rare card indeed. A Peter Bondra showing the Washington sniper sans mullet. The insert photo on this 91-92 Pinnacle does, however, have excellent yearbook photo potential. But this isn't the Gold, neither was the Sandy McCarthy Topps that I neglected to scan for reasons unknown. This is it.




Yeah, baby. He promised a surprise and he delivered. 2010-11 SPX Winning Materials Dual Jersey card. In other words, a card I would probably get outbid on 4 or 5 times on the bay. And not it's mine, ALL MINE!!!!!


As always, a huge thank you to all of those out there kind enough to send me cards. Oh and later this week I reveal a long lost Through The Mail auto! Yea!