Netflix Is For Rubes

I was going to include some streaming vid here, but, alas, I ran out of bandwith.

Suicide Squeeze - Home Stretch ('92 Upper Deck)

Three Things Less Believable Than Chad Durbin's 12th

Not to dwell on  Chad's improbably inflammable appearance, but I would rank it fourth over the past week in bizarre MLB occurrences.  In case you've been stoned the entire time, it has been quite a week.  Here is the reprise.

#3)  ManRam retires.  So Manny's dumb; we know that.  After a second positive test for a prohibited substance, Ramirez chose to call it quits rather than face a 100 game suspension.  Even the decision boggles my mind; either way he sits on his rump.  Either way he gets a deluge of scorn from the press and the fans.  Why make such a rash move?  Just Manny bein' Manny.  Check out his timeline of ignominy here.

#2) Josh Hamilton breaks arm while trying to score on a pop foul to the third baseman.  I have never seen anything like this.  Josh blames the third base coach, kind of.  Regardless, he will miss 6-8 weeks.  And isn't allowed anything for the pain. ;-j.



#1) Adrian Gonzalez and David Ortiz triple in the same game.  Amidst Daisuke Matsuzaka's extended BP to the Rays on Monday, two unlike Sox both ended up on third thanks to the unique dimensions of Fenway and some overly aggressive outfield play by Tampa.  While Big Papi holds an unlikely distinction as the only AL player to triple in each of the past 12 seasons, the probability of of the daily double (triple?) was astronomical.  Given their performances over the past five seasons, the odds of Gonzalez (7 3B in 799 G) and Ortiz (6  in 704) tripling in the same contest were approximately 1 in 13,000.  If you prefer a percentage, there was a 0.0075% or three quarters of a hundredth of a percent chance of that outcome.  Factor in the probability of both hits being viewed live by me and the % drops straight to zero.

So, Chad, you've got all that going for you.

Cheers.

P.S.  Thanks again, Joe Smith activated and Frank Herrmann to Columbus.  For now.

Oh, I Forgot, The Terrorists Won

Is this just PC BS to avoid the appearance of profiling?  The day a little girl like that is truly a threat is the day I defect to Canada without stopping to look back.

Well, That's Embarrassing

About a week ago I promised to tell you all about my misadventures in snatching foul balls at the park.  My opening day resolution was to release all embarrassment that I have over my own actions.  I like who I am and I'll be damned if I let the fools of the world force the smile from my face.  Thanks, Stuart Smalley.  We'll order these ascending to the closest that I ever came.  Coincidentally, they all flow to what was the most mortifying.

#3) Progressive Field, Summer 2010.  I got some wicked sweet seats right behind home plate.  Even though I do not prefer to stare through the screen, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to sit so close.  Round about the 7th inning, there was a foul tip.  The screen at the Jake does not feature the horizontal cover, just the vertical bit behind the plate.  The tip screamed a touch over the top of the screen and headed to my right.  The seat to that side was open, so I shuffled and leaned into my closest neighbor.  Alas, the ball glanced off of my fingertips (it stung) and rattled away to another.  Sorry Dad, touched it, couldn't catch it.  The most upsetting part was the ruse perpetrated by the buddy I was at the game with.  A wry grin on his face, he convinced me, with the help of another friend that was watching on tv, that I has been front and center on STO's coverage and looked quite the hands of stone.  I have to stop believing what that dude says.

#2) Jacobs Field, Summer 2005.  I am sitting on the third base side in decent seats, just past the dugout, just under the overhang.  With me are the same jackass from above and a second dude, who's just hangin' out, doesn't give a flying fish about baseball.  Attendance was sorta sparse and the 3 rows in front of us were completely empty.  A foul comes looping towards us, but dies two rows too soon.  Jackass and I lunge for it, but we both miss.  There's a rattle and a clatter and before I know what's going on dude #3 has plucked the prize from its resting spot within a cup holder.  Jeez oh man.  Worst of all?  He offered it to me.  Nice thing for a friend to do, but salt in the cosmic wound.

#1) Canal Park, Summer 2004.  This one is bad.  Really bad.  I'm watching the Aeros with a couple of college buddies and there is a set of pretty girls in the row in front of us.  We're just off to the first base side, about 3 or 4 rows behind the plate.  This one is pop foul.  This time I'm wearing my oversized high school outfielder's mitt.  The ball goes up and I turn to the guy on my right, the more athletic of the two, and I box him out.  Literally.  Just like goin' for a board, I drive my backside into him and push him out of the way.  I'm tracking the ball the whole time and my heart is a pumpa-thumpin'.  In the last moment, I realize that, like most pop-ups, this thing is coming straight down.  Instead the ball is slicing back towards the plate.  I make a feeble attempt to swipe it out of the air, but, of course, I miss.  The ball ka-thunks right off the middle back of the chick in front of me.  Ouch.  Not enough beer in the world.

Ob la di.  I got mine.

These guys understand.  ;-j


Now you know.  And knowing is half the battle.

Cheers.

Pretty Girl 04.14.11 - Fiona Johnson

See if you can spot this one.  Mr. Anderson.