Today’s tour of all things baseball is all about taking you to other places on the internet. This is something I had planned to do when I started this blog and well… better late than never, right? Look for me to do this more often moving forward.
First up, is a story that’s bigger than any baseball game. It’s really about the mission of Jamie and Karen Moyer. Jamie is a major league pitcher currently with the Philadelphia Phillies. He and his wife Karen started Camp Erin…
Rather than try to explain what Camp Erin is all about here, I invite you to watch this video instead:
There are a great many baseball players like Jamie Moyer (and his wife) trying to make a difference in the world (many are listed on the left). The Moyer’s mission is “to offer encouragement, comfort and support to children enduring a time of profound emotional, physical or financial distress.”
One of my missions is to bring stories like that of the Moyer’s to you.
To learn more about the Moyer Foundation, please visit their web site.
Ready for more?
Next up on today’s tour is Joe Posnanski. Posnanski is a senior writer at Sports Illustrated, who worked as a columnist at The Kansas City Star from 1996-2009. During that time he was voted the best columnist in America by the Associated Press Sports Editors. If you’ve ever read Posnanski’s material, you know why. If you haven’t, I invite you to read this piece about “The Heart of Los Angeles.” I promise you; you will not be disappointed.
Joe Posnanski is my favorite sports writer. He also happens to blog and his web site: Joe Posnanski – Curiously Long Posts should be a frequent stop for anyone who loves baseball and sports in general.
Something Joe wrote in a post he had written about the Harlem Globetrotters’’ opponent for years and years – The Washington Generals and their coach Red Klotz inspired me. His blog focused on Klotz and what Posnanski called “The greatest quote ever,” but it wasn’t Klotz’ quote that caught my attention; it was something Posnanski wrote about himself as he was talking about the quote.
Posnanski said, “I have tried hard to write about the fun side of sports, the optimistic side of sports, the bright side of the street.”
That little statement has stuck with me and is part of the inspiration for this blog. I’ve given you just a taste of Posnanski here and with the link above. Again, I invite you to explore his material in greater detail.
Last, but not least today I invite you to think about something Rob Neyer had to say about the “Limits of our Knowledge” in his blog the “Sweetspot.”
Neyer makes a great point in that piece about the way we analyze and scrutinize what our baseball teams do or don't do. He talks about how there are limits to what we can know about what happens behind the scenes. Check out Neyer’s piece and keep what he says in mind the next time your team makes a move that you can’t understand. It really appreciated his perspective.
One more piece from Neyer that I enjoyed a great deal is about a letter he wrote to Chadd Hartman, who was a minor league ball player in the San Diego Padres system. It’s the kind of piece I just love to read. It’s about a baseball player, but not one who did his job in the spotlight of the national media or before 40,000 fans. It’s one of those "off the beaten path" kind of stories that’s easy to relate to.
It’s about statistics and numbers, but not in the dry lifeless sense, it’s about bringing numbers to life in a way that only baseball can do it.
And that concludes today’s tour. Again, I hope to do this more often. If you have an idea that you think I should check into, please don’t hesitate to contact me (contct information is on this page). I promise you that I will give your thought every consideration. Also - I’m still open to receiving “letters” about why you love baseball.
Until next time….
October 26, 2010
October 20, 2010
Catching up with "Rosey" Part 2
Welcome to part 2 of the “Catching up with Rosey.”
As I mentioned last week Chris Rosenbaum was kind enough to respond to my email about what he’s been up to since his last blog “And so it ends.”
Some of what you are about to read actually took place before his last blog and it’s included to fill in the gaps.
After being released by the Angels, Chris went back to his part time job with H&R Block in Tempe, Arizona. Meanwhile his girlfriend was finishing up an internship at Athletes Performance in Phoenix. When tax season ended Chris got in touch with Jaime Cevallos of The Swing Mechanic who is noted for his work with Tampa Bay Rays Ben Zobrist before his monster 2009 season.
Chris went to go work out with Cevallos for a week in Dallas. He had been trading video assessments with him. Cevallos is known for helping hitters get the most power out their swing (which was one of the knocks against Chris’s hitting).
He was hoping to hook up with an Independent League team. While there, he signed a contract with the Washington Wild Things of the Frontier League.
Chris went to their spring training for two weeks and during the process he decided his time was probably going to be better spent elsewhere focusing on what he called his “real career” which would either be in business or possibly in the front office side of baseball.
Being from up-state New York, Chris returned to Albany, New York to begin his quest. Armed with an under-grad degree in Finance and an MBA he decided to focus on investment banking. He looked at the field as the “professional baseball of the finance world.” As he would soon learn, it would be just as hard to break into as baseball.
He started from ground zero, cold calling and emailing banks; mostly small to mid-level sized banks. He knew the competition at the bigger institutions would be steep and those armed with Ivy League degrees and internships would have an advantage.
While searching for a job, Chris taught himself about “modeling” through an on-line course. He learned different ways to value companies; something that wasn’t one of his strengths. Just like in baseball, he realized he had to work on his weaknesses in the business world as well.
He spent a lot of time talking to people; looking for “someone who knows someone.” According to Chris, networking is very important part of breaking into the industry. Chris put in the effort, but the results weren’t coming along as he had hoped.
While Chris has had some luck talking to people, the interviews weren’t as plentiful. His most promising opportunity came at a full service investment firm in Tampa, Florida.
It all happened right around the third week of August. Chris flew down to Tampa with his family to help his sister, who was going to be a sophomore at the University of Tampa move back into school. Afterwards, he ended up flying back to California to help his girlfriend drive cross country to take her new job as an athletic trainer in Mobile, Alabama working with the baseball team at the University of South Alabama.
Along the way while traveling to Tempe, Alabama and back to Albany, Chris learned the bank was no longer interested in discussing a position with him.
Chris noted that his lack of experience in modeling and in working in the industry in general didn’t help his cause. Even though he has an MBA he lacks relevant work experience; something that’s hard to gain when you’re playing baseball. Chris said, that when push comes to shove, experience was “trumping education.”
That’s the finance side of the career search.
On the other hand, a few weeks back Chris started sending our “blind emails” to major league baseball front offices. He contacted somewhere between 15-20 teams. He’s now trying to network with this group to find out how they got involved in professional baseball.
Chris has discovered the best way in to a front office job is probably through an internship. Some are paid and some are not. His focus is on a paid internship, realizing that teams that put an emphasis on hiring from within are more likely to pay to get good quality people that they can retain if things pan out.
He believes his best shot is an internship with a Scouting Department. Chris may have found his best career path. As his girlfriend pointed out to him – he might not stand out when applying for a job in the finance world, but in baseball he’s unique because he not only has playing experience (“playing three years at a high level in a well-respected organization;” the Angels) he also carries an MBA with him.
So, that’s basically where he stands right now.
He also mentioned that he may do an internship with a AA team in Mobile, Alabama near his girlfriend. He hasn’t ruled out an internship in the business world. He’s basically looking to do anything to get some more relevant experience on his resume for either career path.
And that’s where our friend is today. Not the story book ending we might have hoped for, but then again – Chris’ journey is far from over.
We'll be sure to check back with Chris in the near future to see if there are any new developments.
If you're finding us for the first time - be sure to read Part 1 of this post as well.
As I mentioned last week Chris Rosenbaum was kind enough to respond to my email about what he’s been up to since his last blog “And so it ends.”
Some of what you are about to read actually took place before his last blog and it’s included to fill in the gaps.
After being released by the Angels, Chris went back to his part time job with H&R Block in Tempe, Arizona. Meanwhile his girlfriend was finishing up an internship at Athletes Performance in Phoenix. When tax season ended Chris got in touch with Jaime Cevallos of The Swing Mechanic who is noted for his work with Tampa Bay Rays Ben Zobrist before his monster 2009 season.
Chris went to go work out with Cevallos for a week in Dallas. He had been trading video assessments with him. Cevallos is known for helping hitters get the most power out their swing (which was one of the knocks against Chris’s hitting).
He was hoping to hook up with an Independent League team. While there, he signed a contract with the Washington Wild Things of the Frontier League.
Chris went to their spring training for two weeks and during the process he decided his time was probably going to be better spent elsewhere focusing on what he called his “real career” which would either be in business or possibly in the front office side of baseball.
Being from up-state New York, Chris returned to Albany, New York to begin his quest. Armed with an under-grad degree in Finance and an MBA he decided to focus on investment banking. He looked at the field as the “professional baseball of the finance world.” As he would soon learn, it would be just as hard to break into as baseball.
He started from ground zero, cold calling and emailing banks; mostly small to mid-level sized banks. He knew the competition at the bigger institutions would be steep and those armed with Ivy League degrees and internships would have an advantage.
While searching for a job, Chris taught himself about “modeling” through an on-line course. He learned different ways to value companies; something that wasn’t one of his strengths. Just like in baseball, he realized he had to work on his weaknesses in the business world as well.
He spent a lot of time talking to people; looking for “someone who knows someone.” According to Chris, networking is very important part of breaking into the industry. Chris put in the effort, but the results weren’t coming along as he had hoped.
While Chris has had some luck talking to people, the interviews weren’t as plentiful. His most promising opportunity came at a full service investment firm in Tampa, Florida.
It all happened right around the third week of August. Chris flew down to Tampa with his family to help his sister, who was going to be a sophomore at the University of Tampa move back into school. Afterwards, he ended up flying back to California to help his girlfriend drive cross country to take her new job as an athletic trainer in Mobile, Alabama working with the baseball team at the University of South Alabama.
Along the way while traveling to Tempe, Alabama and back to Albany, Chris learned the bank was no longer interested in discussing a position with him.
Chris noted that his lack of experience in modeling and in working in the industry in general didn’t help his cause. Even though he has an MBA he lacks relevant work experience; something that’s hard to gain when you’re playing baseball. Chris said, that when push comes to shove, experience was “trumping education.”
That’s the finance side of the career search.
On the other hand, a few weeks back Chris started sending our “blind emails” to major league baseball front offices. He contacted somewhere between 15-20 teams. He’s now trying to network with this group to find out how they got involved in professional baseball.
Chris has discovered the best way in to a front office job is probably through an internship. Some are paid and some are not. His focus is on a paid internship, realizing that teams that put an emphasis on hiring from within are more likely to pay to get good quality people that they can retain if things pan out.
He believes his best shot is an internship with a Scouting Department. Chris may have found his best career path. As his girlfriend pointed out to him – he might not stand out when applying for a job in the finance world, but in baseball he’s unique because he not only has playing experience (“playing three years at a high level in a well-respected organization;” the Angels) he also carries an MBA with him.
So, that’s basically where he stands right now.
He also mentioned that he may do an internship with a AA team in Mobile, Alabama near his girlfriend. He hasn’t ruled out an internship in the business world. He’s basically looking to do anything to get some more relevant experience on his resume for either career path.
And that’s where our friend is today. Not the story book ending we might have hoped for, but then again – Chris’ journey is far from over.
We'll be sure to check back with Chris in the near future to see if there are any new developments.
If you're finding us for the first time - be sure to read Part 1 of this post as well.
October 14, 2010
Catching up with "Rosey"
When I first started writing True Grich I hadn’t really read a lot of other blogs. If I did, I probably didn’t even realize they were blogs.
All that changed in the past year as I went looking to find the best baseball blogs on the internet. Turns out there are quite a few of them. Some are written by professional writers like Sports Illustrated’s Joe Posnanski and many of them are written by every day folks just like me.
And then there are those that are actually written by professional baseball players. You might be surprised by who actually blogs (I have a list of some of them on the left).
I recently found a real gem called “Looking through the Mask” written by Chris Rosenbaum (Rosey), a former minor league baseball player from the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim farm system.
Chris does an amazing job of telling his audience what it’s like to be a professional baseball player who is trying to achieve the ultimate goal of making it to the major leagues.
He had this to say in 2008:
For the lay baseball fan, it often goes overlooked that we are really baseball players in training, and that the final product on the field every night is not always going to be well polished. The time put in everyday working on hitting, fielding and pitching mechanics often goes unnoticed during days that usually begin five to seven hours prior to game time. Playing at the Class A level, we still have four more rungs to climb to get to the Majors (A-Advanced, AA, AAA, MLB). While we go out every night trying to win a baseball game, our primary objective is to develop as a player so that we are better players at the last day of the season than we were when we arrived in Cedar Rapids.
As you read through all his blog entries, you get a sense of what it must be like working your way through the minor leagues. He talks about his interactions with the fans, his relationships with teammates, the struggles of making it on a meager salary, the long days and so much more.
I found this piece regarding his relationships with teammates interesting:
Everyone in this business is trying to make it to the top. It is paradoxical that while no one can get to the Major Leagues by themselves, there is not enough room for everyone to make it. This is a team game played by individuals. While everyone is striving for the team to win, players are looking out for their individual success along the way. This balance is often strained and is a major reason why the relationships you develop with people should be kept professional with minimal vested emotion. There is only so much of the pie to go around, and no one around you is afraid to take your share.
Since Chris was a catcher and more importantly a catcher in the Angels organization that has Mike Scioscia’s thumb print all over it – it was a natural for Chris to talk about what it meant to be an Angels catcher.
He said this:
If there is a common thread throughout all of the teachings throughout the organization as it pertains to catchers, it is the strong emphasis on the pitcher and catcher relationship. When a pitcher is comfortable with his catcher, he is confident and will perform at his highest level. For this reason, fostering and maintaining these relationships is crucial for a catcher’s success in the Angels organization. These working relationships are so strongly valued that they are viewed at the same level of any other stats kept track of by the organization and can be enough reason to keep a mediocre performing offensive catcher around for several years.
Chris’s love for baseball was evident throughout his posts.
Several people have questioned why I put myself through this lifestyle when it appears that I could take my Bachelor’s and almost Master’s Degrees and go get a lucrative job in corporate America. I stick around because I love to play the game. I love the challenge that every day presents and how you never know what the next baseball discovery you will uncover. I stay in the game to experience the moment I did when we defeated Clinton in the divisional semifinals Thursday night. The excitement that our team shared that night with each other and with our devoted fans that made the trip is something I will never forget. This was the first playoff series Cedar Rapids had won since 2000, and it was amazing to see the energy of the team and the fans after winning that series.
More revealing tidbits from his blog:
The hardest part about minor league baseball is that there are no guarantees. What I mean by this, is that tomorrow is never guaranteed; you never know if you will have a job tomorrow, nor can you even be certain where you will be and who will be around you….
It is unfathomably hard to invest so much time and energy into something that can be gone without warning. Playing baseball is such a fickle profession where knowing the right people and being in the right place at the right time can be just as important as performing well on the field. However, the love of the game keeps most going during the long bus rides, minimal pay, unjust personnel decisions, and time away from home. It is the dream that most of us have had since we were young of playing in the Big Leagues that gets us through the setbacks to face another day.
Chris’s blog is all about his journey through baseball and like all journeys they eventually come to an end.
His final post “And so it ends” was posted on July 3, 2010. In this post Chris says good-bye to baseball. This post was actually the first post I read by Chris. It was so compelling, that I foun myself going back to read all of his previous posts. When I was done, I decided to reach out to Chris to find out what happened to him.
So I emailed him and much to my surprise he replied. We exchanged a few emails and Chris gave me an update on what he’s been up to. That will be the subject of my next post (coming soon). So… stay tuned.
In the mean time, I encouage you to visit his blog. If you really love baseball, you will probably enjoy learning about "Rosey." I encourage you to read all of his posts. Trust me, it will be like reading a good book.
All that changed in the past year as I went looking to find the best baseball blogs on the internet. Turns out there are quite a few of them. Some are written by professional writers like Sports Illustrated’s Joe Posnanski and many of them are written by every day folks just like me.
And then there are those that are actually written by professional baseball players. You might be surprised by who actually blogs (I have a list of some of them on the left).
I recently found a real gem called “Looking through the Mask” written by Chris Rosenbaum (Rosey), a former minor league baseball player from the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim farm system.
Chris does an amazing job of telling his audience what it’s like to be a professional baseball player who is trying to achieve the ultimate goal of making it to the major leagues.
He had this to say in 2008:
For the lay baseball fan, it often goes overlooked that we are really baseball players in training, and that the final product on the field every night is not always going to be well polished. The time put in everyday working on hitting, fielding and pitching mechanics often goes unnoticed during days that usually begin five to seven hours prior to game time. Playing at the Class A level, we still have four more rungs to climb to get to the Majors (A-Advanced, AA, AAA, MLB). While we go out every night trying to win a baseball game, our primary objective is to develop as a player so that we are better players at the last day of the season than we were when we arrived in Cedar Rapids.
As you read through all his blog entries, you get a sense of what it must be like working your way through the minor leagues. He talks about his interactions with the fans, his relationships with teammates, the struggles of making it on a meager salary, the long days and so much more.
I found this piece regarding his relationships with teammates interesting:
Everyone in this business is trying to make it to the top. It is paradoxical that while no one can get to the Major Leagues by themselves, there is not enough room for everyone to make it. This is a team game played by individuals. While everyone is striving for the team to win, players are looking out for their individual success along the way. This balance is often strained and is a major reason why the relationships you develop with people should be kept professional with minimal vested emotion. There is only so much of the pie to go around, and no one around you is afraid to take your share.
Since Chris was a catcher and more importantly a catcher in the Angels organization that has Mike Scioscia’s thumb print all over it – it was a natural for Chris to talk about what it meant to be an Angels catcher.
He said this:
If there is a common thread throughout all of the teachings throughout the organization as it pertains to catchers, it is the strong emphasis on the pitcher and catcher relationship. When a pitcher is comfortable with his catcher, he is confident and will perform at his highest level. For this reason, fostering and maintaining these relationships is crucial for a catcher’s success in the Angels organization. These working relationships are so strongly valued that they are viewed at the same level of any other stats kept track of by the organization and can be enough reason to keep a mediocre performing offensive catcher around for several years.
Chris’s love for baseball was evident throughout his posts.
Several people have questioned why I put myself through this lifestyle when it appears that I could take my Bachelor’s and almost Master’s Degrees and go get a lucrative job in corporate America. I stick around because I love to play the game. I love the challenge that every day presents and how you never know what the next baseball discovery you will uncover. I stay in the game to experience the moment I did when we defeated Clinton in the divisional semifinals Thursday night. The excitement that our team shared that night with each other and with our devoted fans that made the trip is something I will never forget. This was the first playoff series Cedar Rapids had won since 2000, and it was amazing to see the energy of the team and the fans after winning that series.
More revealing tidbits from his blog:
The hardest part about minor league baseball is that there are no guarantees. What I mean by this, is that tomorrow is never guaranteed; you never know if you will have a job tomorrow, nor can you even be certain where you will be and who will be around you….
It is unfathomably hard to invest so much time and energy into something that can be gone without warning. Playing baseball is such a fickle profession where knowing the right people and being in the right place at the right time can be just as important as performing well on the field. However, the love of the game keeps most going during the long bus rides, minimal pay, unjust personnel decisions, and time away from home. It is the dream that most of us have had since we were young of playing in the Big Leagues that gets us through the setbacks to face another day.
Chris’s blog is all about his journey through baseball and like all journeys they eventually come to an end.
His final post “And so it ends” was posted on July 3, 2010. In this post Chris says good-bye to baseball. This post was actually the first post I read by Chris. It was so compelling, that I foun myself going back to read all of his previous posts. When I was done, I decided to reach out to Chris to find out what happened to him.
So I emailed him and much to my surprise he replied. We exchanged a few emails and Chris gave me an update on what he’s been up to. That will be the subject of my next post (coming soon). So… stay tuned.
In the mean time, I encouage you to visit his blog. If you really love baseball, you will probably enjoy learning about "Rosey." I encourage you to read all of his posts. Trust me, it will be like reading a good book.
October 13, 2010
There are many reasons to love baseball
Every day is kind of like Christmas for me lately. Seems like every time I check my email, there's another story from a baseball fan who wants to answer my question "Why do you love baseball?"
The following post is from Matt Kelsey, who got wind of this blog from his I-70 Baseball colleague Bill Ivie and wanted to take part in the project as well. I'm glad he did....
I love baseball because my dad and my mom took me to games, back in the days when the Royals played respectable ball and you could take a family of four to a big-league ballpark for less than twenty-five bucks - parking and food included.
I love baseball because after the games, my brother and I would go stand around next to the visiting team bus and the home team parking lot, asking for autographs. More players said no than yes, but the ones who said yes - regardless of how they performed on the field - became our favorites.
I love baseball because of my grandmother. A first-generation American, she was born and raised in the small central Missouri town of Loose Creek, and grew up in the days of Ruth and Gehrig. She became a fan of the Kansas City Royals out of spite, for the exact same reason she voted Republican: her husband, the jovial town barber, told her she ought vote Democrat and root for the St. Louis Cardinals. My grandmother did the opposite. Our family friend Ralph Lynch took my grandmother to a playoff game in 1985, and bought her a Royals jacket. The jacket and a commemorative Dwight Eisenhower plate were her prized possessions. She wore that jacket every spring and fall until the day she died.
I love baseball because of that jacket.
I love baseball because of Ralph Lynch. Ralph was the kind of guy who would throw away caps when they became too worn out. Once, when he was over at our house, shucking corn and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the can with my father, he decided his old Royals hat was too worn out and chucked it in a garbage barrel. I dug that sucker out of the trash and wore it the rest of my childhood.
I love baseball because of Bret Saberhagen. He was the kid pitcher on the Royals in 1985, and he went on to win a Cy Young Award and the World Series MVP. He was my favorite player, and still is, even though he sprayed bleach on reporters while playing for the Mets and wore his hair in a ridiculous perm.
I love baseball because of Game 7 of the 1985 World Series. A Cardinals fan tried to tell me recently that the Royals would have lost the series if Don Denkinger, the guy who blew a call in Game 6, hadn't been behind the plate for Game 7. The Royals won Game 7 by a score of 11-0. Cardinals fans are delusional if they think a different umpire would have changed the outcome of Saberhagen's complete-game shutout or the Royals' offensive explosion. But I digress...
I love baseball because I was six years old during the 1985 World Series. My family watched the game from our living room, in the house where my parents still live. Ralph Lynch was there, too. My brother and I watched from the living room carpet, laid out on our stomachs, our heads cradled in our hands. When Darryl Motley caught the ball for the final out and Saberhagen leaped into George Brett's arms, we pounded on the carpet and screamed until our fists were sore and our throats were raw.
I love baseball because I love hating the Cardinals, and I love hating the Yankees.
I love baseball because of George Brett, the greatest player I ever saw. Years after he retired I witnessed him at an exhibition game. He was joking around with the crowd, signing a few autographs, and then he took batting practice and his expression became deadly serious. He whacked the ball all over the park, with that wonderfully ridiculous back-to-the-pitcher stance of his. I'll bet money George Brett could still hit .275 in the big leagues.
I love baseball because of birthday money. On my birthday, I would get $15 from my parents to spend anyway I liked, and my brother would get $10. On his birthday, we'd reverse it. One year on my birthday, I blew my entire wad on baseball cards. My brother had always had more cards than me, and it was sort of a sore subject. That night I came home and opened all my cards (probably 30 packs - they were a lot cheaper back then), and shoved all the gum in my mouth. Then, with a mouth full of sugary sweetness, I took my cards and stacked them up in a skyscraper. My brother stacked his cards up too. My stack, for once, was taller.
I love baseball because of the gum. My brother's friend once built a small box out of baseball-card gum and stored his valuables inside, because he swore the gum was fireproof.
I love baseball because of Buck O'Neil.
I love baseball because there's an old family rumor, largely propagated by my brother, that we're distantly related to Mickey Mantle.
I love baseball because my wife lets me teach her about the game, and she's come to love it, too, in a way only a perfect wife can, the kind of wife who doesn't just suffer her husband's obsessions, but shares in them.
I love baseball because it's the only game that matters. It's the only game I'll ever truly love. It's a game that belongs to me in the same way it belongs to all fans, and I belong to it as well.
Submitted by
Matt Kelsey
Content Director
I-70 Baseball
Be sure to check out Matt's blog:
The Henry Wiggen Blog
By the way Matt, I too love baseball because of Buck O'Neil
The following post is from Matt Kelsey, who got wind of this blog from his I-70 Baseball colleague Bill Ivie and wanted to take part in the project as well. I'm glad he did....
I love baseball because my dad and my mom took me to games, back in the days when the Royals played respectable ball and you could take a family of four to a big-league ballpark for less than twenty-five bucks - parking and food included.
I love baseball because after the games, my brother and I would go stand around next to the visiting team bus and the home team parking lot, asking for autographs. More players said no than yes, but the ones who said yes - regardless of how they performed on the field - became our favorites.
I love baseball because of my grandmother. A first-generation American, she was born and raised in the small central Missouri town of Loose Creek, and grew up in the days of Ruth and Gehrig. She became a fan of the Kansas City Royals out of spite, for the exact same reason she voted Republican: her husband, the jovial town barber, told her she ought vote Democrat and root for the St. Louis Cardinals. My grandmother did the opposite. Our family friend Ralph Lynch took my grandmother to a playoff game in 1985, and bought her a Royals jacket. The jacket and a commemorative Dwight Eisenhower plate were her prized possessions. She wore that jacket every spring and fall until the day she died.
I love baseball because of that jacket.
I love baseball because of Ralph Lynch. Ralph was the kind of guy who would throw away caps when they became too worn out. Once, when he was over at our house, shucking corn and drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the can with my father, he decided his old Royals hat was too worn out and chucked it in a garbage barrel. I dug that sucker out of the trash and wore it the rest of my childhood.
I love baseball because of Bret Saberhagen. He was the kid pitcher on the Royals in 1985, and he went on to win a Cy Young Award and the World Series MVP. He was my favorite player, and still is, even though he sprayed bleach on reporters while playing for the Mets and wore his hair in a ridiculous perm.
I love baseball because of Game 7 of the 1985 World Series. A Cardinals fan tried to tell me recently that the Royals would have lost the series if Don Denkinger, the guy who blew a call in Game 6, hadn't been behind the plate for Game 7. The Royals won Game 7 by a score of 11-0. Cardinals fans are delusional if they think a different umpire would have changed the outcome of Saberhagen's complete-game shutout or the Royals' offensive explosion. But I digress...
I love baseball because I was six years old during the 1985 World Series. My family watched the game from our living room, in the house where my parents still live. Ralph Lynch was there, too. My brother and I watched from the living room carpet, laid out on our stomachs, our heads cradled in our hands. When Darryl Motley caught the ball for the final out and Saberhagen leaped into George Brett's arms, we pounded on the carpet and screamed until our fists were sore and our throats were raw.
I love baseball because I love hating the Cardinals, and I love hating the Yankees.
I love baseball because of George Brett, the greatest player I ever saw. Years after he retired I witnessed him at an exhibition game. He was joking around with the crowd, signing a few autographs, and then he took batting practice and his expression became deadly serious. He whacked the ball all over the park, with that wonderfully ridiculous back-to-the-pitcher stance of his. I'll bet money George Brett could still hit .275 in the big leagues.
I love baseball because of birthday money. On my birthday, I would get $15 from my parents to spend anyway I liked, and my brother would get $10. On his birthday, we'd reverse it. One year on my birthday, I blew my entire wad on baseball cards. My brother had always had more cards than me, and it was sort of a sore subject. That night I came home and opened all my cards (probably 30 packs - they were a lot cheaper back then), and shoved all the gum in my mouth. Then, with a mouth full of sugary sweetness, I took my cards and stacked them up in a skyscraper. My brother stacked his cards up too. My stack, for once, was taller.
I love baseball because of the gum. My brother's friend once built a small box out of baseball-card gum and stored his valuables inside, because he swore the gum was fireproof.
I love baseball because of Buck O'Neil.
I love baseball because there's an old family rumor, largely propagated by my brother, that we're distantly related to Mickey Mantle.
I love baseball because my wife lets me teach her about the game, and she's come to love it, too, in a way only a perfect wife can, the kind of wife who doesn't just suffer her husband's obsessions, but shares in them.
I love baseball because it's the only game that matters. It's the only game I'll ever truly love. It's a game that belongs to me in the same way it belongs to all fans, and I belong to it as well.
Submitted by
Matt Kelsey
Content Director
I-70 Baseball
Be sure to check out Matt's blog:
The Henry Wiggen Blog
By the way Matt, I too love baseball because of Buck O'Neil
Labels:
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October 11, 2010
Sometimes baseball provides all the answers
Why do you love baseball? It's really a simple question. The answers; however, are often deeper than one could imagine.
Today's post comes to us from Bill Ivie, who is the Executive Editor and Founder of i70baseball.com. Enjoy...
It was one of the hardest times I have ever experienced in my life. As my relationship, my family life, and my professional career were all upended very quickly, I was struggling to find answers to more questions then I had ever asked before.
Everything seemed gone. My children, my friends, my family all seem to have disappeared. Looking back now I realize just how mind altering depression can be as many of those things were still there and as strong as ever. But that is not what this story is about.
There are songs, articles, books and stories that have been told for many years about that type of situation. All of these situations were solved by a visit to the author's childhood home. They would sit in their old bedroom, under a tree, on a porch swing, or in a field out back and remember who they were and what they needed to be. As my world felt like it was falling down around me, I decided to try and take their advice.
There was a problem here, though. I did not have that home. We moved a lot when I was younger and many of the houses that we lived in were no longer there. Still, I set out to areas that I had lived, hoping to catch just a little bit of that magic. I drove past a small elementary school that I attended, remembering how big it seemed then and how tiny it was now. I drove through the neighborhood that I spent my junior high school years living in, but it had changed so much that it was hard to even recognize. I drove through neighborhoods of childhood friends' houses, past the high school I graduated from, and even walked around property owned by my ex-father-in-law. Still there was nothing.
I pulled into the park that July night around dusk. An orange haze cast over the sky and there was a slight, unseasonable, chill in the air. The outfield grass was freshly cut and the dirt had been drug over recently leaving a light powder across the infield. There were no other people anywhere in the area as I stepped out of my car and approached the third base dugout.
I sat on the bench, looking out over the infield, barren of lines, with stark white bases protruding from their positions 90 feet apart from each other. I remembered sitting in that dugout as a young man, my father coaching the team that had made it to the championship, having just struck out the inning before with runners on second and third and two outs.
My team trailed by one run with just a few innings left to play and I had let them down. My father patted me on the back and gave me the old "get 'em next time" look. The look was mixed between the strategies a coach had running through his head and the love of a father realizing his son was not sure what to do next.
I remembered vividly that day grabbing my glove to head to left field and my dad stopping me on my way out of the dugout. He told me, "do something amazing and no one will remember the strikeout." With two outs in the next half inning I made a diving catch in left center field with the bases loaded to keep it a one run lead. Two innings later I worked a walk, stole second, and scored on a teammate's base hit to left field to win the game after my team had tied it earlier in the inning.
I think I am the only one that remembers the strikeout.
I stepped out of the dugout and walked to the area where the on deck circles would be drawn in chalk prior to the next day's games. I squatted down and scooped a handful of dirt and let it sift through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. I was reminded of relationship advice, being told to "hold onto her love like sand, too loosely and it falls away, too tightly and it will run through the cracks of you fingers and hands. Gently, yet firm, and it will stay".
I walked the field that night, leaning against the slightly rusty, yet still firm chain link fence. Reminding myself of the times that I chased foul balls down the line to that fence, crashing into it. Reminding myself that I always stood up, dusted off, and got back into the game.
I watched the sun set over the field and buildings that bordered the park. I stood near second base, watching the fence and bleachers reflecting the moonlight. I walked through the dugout, remembering the countless games that I would pack up my equipment and head home. I walked through the grassy park back to my car, wondering if I had found any answers.
I drove home that night, not sure where life would take me, how I would put my family back together, or what I needed to do to become successful in life. I had found no answers despite memories that provided me with lessons I had learned throughout my childhood that applied in the present situation.
On that field that night, all alone walking around, I found something more important than answers. Somewhere amongst fresh cut grass, soft infield dirt, crisp white bases and rusty fences, I found myself.
Because, you see, dear reader that is what baseball is to those of us that love it as deeply as I do. It invents us. It supports us. It identifies who we are. If you dig deep enough, you will find a passion and desire that is second to none. Most of all, when we need answers, it provides us with the right ones, even if we are asking the wrong questions.
And that's what baseball is all about, Charlie Brown.
Submitted by:
Bill Ivie
Executive Editor and Founder | I-70 Baseball
Assignment Editor | BaseballDigest.com
Member of Baseball Bloggers Alliance
Twitter: @poisonwilliam
You should also check out his More Hardball blog as well.
Today's post comes to us from Bill Ivie, who is the Executive Editor and Founder of i70baseball.com. Enjoy...
It was one of the hardest times I have ever experienced in my life. As my relationship, my family life, and my professional career were all upended very quickly, I was struggling to find answers to more questions then I had ever asked before.
Everything seemed gone. My children, my friends, my family all seem to have disappeared. Looking back now I realize just how mind altering depression can be as many of those things were still there and as strong as ever. But that is not what this story is about.
There are songs, articles, books and stories that have been told for many years about that type of situation. All of these situations were solved by a visit to the author's childhood home. They would sit in their old bedroom, under a tree, on a porch swing, or in a field out back and remember who they were and what they needed to be. As my world felt like it was falling down around me, I decided to try and take their advice.
There was a problem here, though. I did not have that home. We moved a lot when I was younger and many of the houses that we lived in were no longer there. Still, I set out to areas that I had lived, hoping to catch just a little bit of that magic. I drove past a small elementary school that I attended, remembering how big it seemed then and how tiny it was now. I drove through the neighborhood that I spent my junior high school years living in, but it had changed so much that it was hard to even recognize. I drove through neighborhoods of childhood friends' houses, past the high school I graduated from, and even walked around property owned by my ex-father-in-law. Still there was nothing.
I pulled into the park that July night around dusk. An orange haze cast over the sky and there was a slight, unseasonable, chill in the air. The outfield grass was freshly cut and the dirt had been drug over recently leaving a light powder across the infield. There were no other people anywhere in the area as I stepped out of my car and approached the third base dugout.
I sat on the bench, looking out over the infield, barren of lines, with stark white bases protruding from their positions 90 feet apart from each other. I remembered sitting in that dugout as a young man, my father coaching the team that had made it to the championship, having just struck out the inning before with runners on second and third and two outs.
My team trailed by one run with just a few innings left to play and I had let them down. My father patted me on the back and gave me the old "get 'em next time" look. The look was mixed between the strategies a coach had running through his head and the love of a father realizing his son was not sure what to do next.
I remembered vividly that day grabbing my glove to head to left field and my dad stopping me on my way out of the dugout. He told me, "do something amazing and no one will remember the strikeout." With two outs in the next half inning I made a diving catch in left center field with the bases loaded to keep it a one run lead. Two innings later I worked a walk, stole second, and scored on a teammate's base hit to left field to win the game after my team had tied it earlier in the inning.
I think I am the only one that remembers the strikeout.
I stepped out of the dugout and walked to the area where the on deck circles would be drawn in chalk prior to the next day's games. I squatted down and scooped a handful of dirt and let it sift through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. I was reminded of relationship advice, being told to "hold onto her love like sand, too loosely and it falls away, too tightly and it will run through the cracks of you fingers and hands. Gently, yet firm, and it will stay".
I walked the field that night, leaning against the slightly rusty, yet still firm chain link fence. Reminding myself of the times that I chased foul balls down the line to that fence, crashing into it. Reminding myself that I always stood up, dusted off, and got back into the game.
I watched the sun set over the field and buildings that bordered the park. I stood near second base, watching the fence and bleachers reflecting the moonlight. I walked through the dugout, remembering the countless games that I would pack up my equipment and head home. I walked through the grassy park back to my car, wondering if I had found any answers.
I drove home that night, not sure where life would take me, how I would put my family back together, or what I needed to do to become successful in life. I had found no answers despite memories that provided me with lessons I had learned throughout my childhood that applied in the present situation.
On that field that night, all alone walking around, I found something more important than answers. Somewhere amongst fresh cut grass, soft infield dirt, crisp white bases and rusty fences, I found myself.
Because, you see, dear reader that is what baseball is to those of us that love it as deeply as I do. It invents us. It supports us. It identifies who we are. If you dig deep enough, you will find a passion and desire that is second to none. Most of all, when we need answers, it provides us with the right ones, even if we are asking the wrong questions.
And that's what baseball is all about, Charlie Brown.
Submitted by:
Bill Ivie
Executive Editor and Founder | I-70 Baseball
Assignment Editor | BaseballDigest.com
Member of Baseball Bloggers Alliance
Twitter: @poisonwilliam
You should also check out his More Hardball blog as well.
Labels:
Baseball Digest,
Bill Ivie,
i70baseball
October 9, 2010
It's all about dad
My wife Cheryl and I have a favorite restauant in Long Beach called Jongewaard's Bake N Broil. Over the years we've had the pleasure of getting to know the manager there. His name is Andy and he's a big baseball fan (Dodgers) and a heck of a great guy too.
Last night we happened to go to the restaurant and while we were there Andy told me he was sending me something he had written for this blog. He was responding to my request to have people answer the question - Why do you love baseball?
When I started this blog it was with the intention of getting others to tell their stories. This project about why we love baseball has provided people with that opportunity in a big way.
Every time I sit down to read someone's story I get a little excited because it's kind of like going to a game. You never know what you're going to see, but you hope it's going to be something great. Well, Andy delivered a story that's just that....
It was probably the summer of 1970; it may have been the summer of ’69 but I don’t want to rip off a Bryan Adams song. My Dad took me down to sign up for the Kiwanis T-shirt Baseball league in Long Beach. It was the T-shirt league because our uniforms consisted of just that, a T-shirt and a hat. The hat had a letter of whatever the name of your team was, like an R for Rangers or an S for Sharks. The Sharks were a very good team.
Unfortunately, we got there too late and all of the teams were full. There were still a handful of kids like me that showed up late and didn’t get on a team. The kids looked like just what you might think; the last ones to get picked for a team.
My Dad looked around and decided to do a great thing; he decided to start another team and coach them. I don’t know if I realized it at the time, but my Dad was an amazing guy. He was a fan of the underdog; a teacher and a motivator. I’m not sure if he knew what kind of talent he had or didn’t have, but he started a team and the Kiwanis T-shirt league Giants were born.
I happened to be a pretty good player; not great but pretty solid all around. I never hit very well but I was very good defensively. I recruited a couple of my friends from school and the neighborhood. So with, Danny Sweeting and Tim Pedersen (who I knew were pretty good athletes), and the rest of the “last picks,” we had our team for better or worse.
Some of the kids didn’t have gloves and one kid literally didn’t know where first base was. I remember a mother of another kid asking my Dad what kind of glove to buy her son and he said, “Get one with a lot of fingers in it.” My Dad was a pretty funny guy.
Dad had his work cut out for him, but he was great.
He did some creative things like putting colored dots on balls when he pitched batting practice. He made us guess the color before we could swing; that way he would know if we were watching the ball. When we hit the ball and told him the right color, he would give us candy.
Some kids were afraid of the ball, so he drilled a hole in one and attached a rope to it. He would then swing it around and have us hit it. That way kids knew it wasn’t going to hit them.
I don’t think my Dad was ever a great athlete himself, but he had sound fundamentals. He knew a lot about the game and he passed it along to all of us kids.
By all accounts we had a pretty good season. We went 3 and 9, and believe me those 3 wins were huge.
After the season my Dad made trophies for every player. Looking back at it all, I realize what a great coach he was. He is the reason I love baseball as much as I do and I’m sure all the Kiwanis Giants feel the same way.
Submitted by:
Andy Child
San Juan Capistrano, CA
Last night we happened to go to the restaurant and while we were there Andy told me he was sending me something he had written for this blog. He was responding to my request to have people answer the question - Why do you love baseball?
When I started this blog it was with the intention of getting others to tell their stories. This project about why we love baseball has provided people with that opportunity in a big way.
Every time I sit down to read someone's story I get a little excited because it's kind of like going to a game. You never know what you're going to see, but you hope it's going to be something great. Well, Andy delivered a story that's just that....
It was probably the summer of 1970; it may have been the summer of ’69 but I don’t want to rip off a Bryan Adams song. My Dad took me down to sign up for the Kiwanis T-shirt Baseball league in Long Beach. It was the T-shirt league because our uniforms consisted of just that, a T-shirt and a hat. The hat had a letter of whatever the name of your team was, like an R for Rangers or an S for Sharks. The Sharks were a very good team.
Unfortunately, we got there too late and all of the teams were full. There were still a handful of kids like me that showed up late and didn’t get on a team. The kids looked like just what you might think; the last ones to get picked for a team.
My Dad looked around and decided to do a great thing; he decided to start another team and coach them. I don’t know if I realized it at the time, but my Dad was an amazing guy. He was a fan of the underdog; a teacher and a motivator. I’m not sure if he knew what kind of talent he had or didn’t have, but he started a team and the Kiwanis T-shirt league Giants were born.
I happened to be a pretty good player; not great but pretty solid all around. I never hit very well but I was very good defensively. I recruited a couple of my friends from school and the neighborhood. So with, Danny Sweeting and Tim Pedersen (who I knew were pretty good athletes), and the rest of the “last picks,” we had our team for better or worse.
Some of the kids didn’t have gloves and one kid literally didn’t know where first base was. I remember a mother of another kid asking my Dad what kind of glove to buy her son and he said, “Get one with a lot of fingers in it.” My Dad was a pretty funny guy.
Dad had his work cut out for him, but he was great.
He did some creative things like putting colored dots on balls when he pitched batting practice. He made us guess the color before we could swing; that way he would know if we were watching the ball. When we hit the ball and told him the right color, he would give us candy.
Some kids were afraid of the ball, so he drilled a hole in one and attached a rope to it. He would then swing it around and have us hit it. That way kids knew it wasn’t going to hit them.
I don’t think my Dad was ever a great athlete himself, but he had sound fundamentals. He knew a lot about the game and he passed it along to all of us kids.
By all accounts we had a pretty good season. We went 3 and 9, and believe me those 3 wins were huge.
After the season my Dad made trophies for every player. Looking back at it all, I realize what a great coach he was. He is the reason I love baseball as much as I do and I’m sure all the Kiwanis Giants feel the same way.
Submitted by:
Andy Child
San Juan Capistrano, CA
October 8, 2010
Baseball is always with us
The latest entry to the question Why do you love baseball? comes to us from a transplanted Cardinals fan.
It's simple, really. Baseball has always been with me, everywhere I go.
A little history: I come from a family of fans. My mom made me a fan, too. Born in 1937, she was just old enough to know who Jackie Robinson was when he made his major league debut ten years later and why he was so important.
She remembers the family sitting around the radio (Cardinal games were broadcast on KMOX then; the mighty St. Louis station could be heard all the way to Nebraska on clear nights), listening to the announcer call the Brooklyn Dodgers-Cardinals games. She remembers; as she grew up, the sense of pride that she felt in Robinson's accomplishments, the way he held himself, and the way he performed on the field.
She wept when he died. That, I remember vividly.
My own love affair with baseball has been a slow-burning one. As a kid growing up in St. Louis; listening to baseball or thinking about it, was just something you did: throw some catch in the backyard, play pick-up games in the park down the street, do homework while listening to Jack Buck call Cardinals games on the radio ("And that's a winner!").
My favorite player was Lou Brock; I used to hold my breath, wondering if he would steal home this time or catch that line drive down the line. My fondest memory; in fact, is the day he WAVED TO ME because I kept screaming his name from the bleachers during warm-ups. I don't remember who won that day, but man... Lou Brock waved to me! How ya like me NOW??
Sure, St. Louis had the football Cardinals (at least temporarily) and the NBA's Hawks (at least temporarily) and they still have the NHL's Blues, but none of them had a hold on our city the way the Redbirds did. Still don't. In fact, if you referred to "Redbirds" in the 1970s and 1980s, it was pretty much understood that you were talking about the baseball team. You didn't have to clarify.
My mom went to the World Series in 1967 and 1968 and her favorite player was Bob Gibson... that is until Willie McGee showed up and then she "adopted" him.
Another story: I was in Air Force basic training in 1982, the year the Redbirds played the Brewers in the World Series. After the Cardinals beat the Brewers in seven games, my terminally dyspeptic drill instructor called me into his office and yelled at me because he'd bet on the Brewers and it was somehow my fault that they'd lost. All I could do was apologize for my team winning the Series. Go figure.
Even now, having lived in Los Angeles for almost thirty years, I'm still a Cardinals fan. I'm also a fan of the Angels for sure, but man, the Cardinals? That's where it's at.
Submitted by
Terry Dickerson
Redondo Beach, CA
The idea that baseball has always been with Terry reminds me of a James Taylor song for some reason...
I close my eyes at night
Wondering where would I be without you in my life
Everything I did was just a bore
Everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before
But you brighten up for me all of my days
With a love so sweet in so many ways
I want to stop and thank you baseball
I just want to stop and thank you baby (woah, yeah)
How sweet it is to be loved by you (it's just like sugar sometimes)
How sweet it is to be loved by you
I guess his post reminds me of that song because baseball is game that when you love, it actually loves you back. Thanks Terry. That song is going to be in my head all day now.
It's simple, really. Baseball has always been with me, everywhere I go.
A little history: I come from a family of fans. My mom made me a fan, too. Born in 1937, she was just old enough to know who Jackie Robinson was when he made his major league debut ten years later and why he was so important.
She remembers the family sitting around the radio (Cardinal games were broadcast on KMOX then; the mighty St. Louis station could be heard all the way to Nebraska on clear nights), listening to the announcer call the Brooklyn Dodgers-Cardinals games. She remembers; as she grew up, the sense of pride that she felt in Robinson's accomplishments, the way he held himself, and the way he performed on the field.
She wept when he died. That, I remember vividly.
My own love affair with baseball has been a slow-burning one. As a kid growing up in St. Louis; listening to baseball or thinking about it, was just something you did: throw some catch in the backyard, play pick-up games in the park down the street, do homework while listening to Jack Buck call Cardinals games on the radio ("And that's a winner!").
My favorite player was Lou Brock; I used to hold my breath, wondering if he would steal home this time or catch that line drive down the line. My fondest memory; in fact, is the day he WAVED TO ME because I kept screaming his name from the bleachers during warm-ups. I don't remember who won that day, but man... Lou Brock waved to me! How ya like me NOW??
Sure, St. Louis had the football Cardinals (at least temporarily) and the NBA's Hawks (at least temporarily) and they still have the NHL's Blues, but none of them had a hold on our city the way the Redbirds did. Still don't. In fact, if you referred to "Redbirds" in the 1970s and 1980s, it was pretty much understood that you were talking about the baseball team. You didn't have to clarify.
My mom went to the World Series in 1967 and 1968 and her favorite player was Bob Gibson... that is until Willie McGee showed up and then she "adopted" him.
Another story: I was in Air Force basic training in 1982, the year the Redbirds played the Brewers in the World Series. After the Cardinals beat the Brewers in seven games, my terminally dyspeptic drill instructor called me into his office and yelled at me because he'd bet on the Brewers and it was somehow my fault that they'd lost. All I could do was apologize for my team winning the Series. Go figure.
Even now, having lived in Los Angeles for almost thirty years, I'm still a Cardinals fan. I'm also a fan of the Angels for sure, but man, the Cardinals? That's where it's at.
Submitted by
Terry Dickerson
Redondo Beach, CA
The idea that baseball has always been with Terry reminds me of a James Taylor song for some reason...
I close my eyes at night
Wondering where would I be without you in my life
Everything I did was just a bore
Everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before
But you brighten up for me all of my days
With a love so sweet in so many ways
I want to stop and thank you baseball
I just want to stop and thank you baby (woah, yeah)
How sweet it is to be loved by you (it's just like sugar sometimes)
How sweet it is to be loved by you
I guess his post reminds me of that song because baseball is game that when you love, it actually loves you back. Thanks Terry. That song is going to be in my head all day now.
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