So, the Baseball Prospectus says Red Sox in seven.

Just goes to show you, you can look at all the data you want, but baseball is baseball. When the leading baseball statisticians on the planet er, punt on calling this series, you know why baseball is the greatest game in the world. Actually, this guy says it best:

“You can’t sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You’ve got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other man his chance. That’s why baseball is the greatest game of them all.” – Earl Weaver

And so, for the first time since 1993 (when I lived in N.L.-town Philly), I will be rooting for the National League team in the Fall(-to-winter-thanks-to-greedy-major-league-baseball) Classic. And I’m ok with that. Go Rockies!

OK, I know it’s been a while. Here is what’s on my mind:

• When you own a dog, you clean more than ever, and yet your place is generally messier.


• It’s snowing on the high peaks. Winter is just about here. While I like the look of the mountains with the snow on them, I’m dreading the thought of a winter like we had last year here in Boulder.


• The Colorado Rockies (baseball club) are absolutely tearing it up, and they remind me of the Phillies of 1993, another team of lower-paid gamers who ended up playing like a team instead of a collection of overpaid egos. I’ll be rooting for a National League team this year in the World Series.


• Speaking of baseball, I would love to see the Red Sox fold like the bunch of pussies that they are. They should already be declared the losers of the ALCS simply for Manny Ramirez’s bullshit posturing when he hit that home run last night. Sorry, I just fucking hate that guy. Actually, I’m not sorry. He is a douchebag.


• Speaking of baseball, who’s idea was it to have Dane Cook do ads for major league baseball!? I truly believe I’d rather watch Carrot Top try and generate enthusiasm for the game than this no-talent ass wipe.


• I got a new camera; just wait ‘till you see the incredible pictures.


• I saw my sister and my brother-in-law.


• Things are generally good.

Let me start with a quote, because I heard it in my head repeatedly throughout my (two) viewing(s) of ESPN2’s new miniseries “The Bronx is Burning“:

“Ahhh, 1978, there’ll never be another year like that, not in my lifetime.”

That gem was uttered by a co-worker from an old job, back in New York. The same guy who got me tickets to what ended up being Doc Gooden’s no-hitter against Seattle in ‘96, Joe is the quintessential Yankees fan: lifelong, diehard, one-sided, true. And he’s the guy I think of when I watch Billy Martin (expertly played by John Turturro) kick sand on the ump in this great, great show.

I was just a kid when the Bronx Bombers were running from their mediocrity of the early 70’s, and I really didn’t understand or appreciate baseball. Then. But, growing up in north Jersey, I dutifully watched the on-field antics of the 1970’s Yankees, and have the names and scenes of many Patented Yankee Great Moments burnished in my brain. You can’t help it, if you grew up in the New York City area back then, no matter your interest in the game. To this day, I do not understand Mets fans.

Today, I’d call myself a recovering baseball addict, having discovered a passion for the game when I was just getting out of college and living and dying with the Phillies (and Mitch Williams’ destruction of the season with a hanging 0-2 slider to Joe Carter, but I’m not bitter), and later on the Yankees’ amazing New Dynasty of the late 90’s. And so I was more than mildly interested in this new miniseries being trotted out by ESPN2.

Turns out, it’s pretty fun. Watching the on- and off-field antics of these adult kids in the Bronx that were going when I was a kid myself is pretty great, and it’s bringing back a lot of great memories of my youth.

Oh and by the way, I’m especially enjoying the portrayal of Reggie Jackson as an arrogant, egomaniacal douchebag. Remind me to tell you about the time I had great seats on the first base line at Yankee Stadium when I was a tyke and I saw Reggie Jackson give his glove to a kid who dutifully ran down to the wall and asked Reggie for his autograph every inning, only to ask for his glove back as he took the field the next inning. That little plot, along with the two drunk Irishmen seated a couple rows in front and to the left of us, created a scene that will never leave me. Reggie got his glove back, the kid got a brand new glove and two bats, and the drunks got to stay and watch the end of the game. And, as an extra bonus, Reggie heard all about how much of a dickhead he was. It was an awesome display for this eight year-old.

Anyway, if you have access to ESPN2 and you are at all interested in New York City history (Yankees, Son of Sam, Mayor Beame and the Mayoral race of the time), you should check out “The Bronx is Burning”.

One thing I miss out here, having moved 1,797 miles from Yankee Stadium, is of course the chance to see the boys in pinstripes with the white interlocking “NYs” on their chests take the field. Last year was my first full major league season living in Colorado, but the Yankees didn’t make it out here for inter-league play. This year, while reviewing the Rockies schedule I noticed the Yankees were coming to town and I suggested to Brenda that we go; she was very non-committal. I should have figured out what that meant, but of course I didn’t. I found out on my birthday, when I opened my present, which was a pair of tickets to game one of the series, tonight. Not only that, but we would be sitting behind the visitors’ dugout. The Yankee dugout.

The road grey uniforms took some getting used to, as I’d never seen those live before. Another change was the Harley Davidson animated motorcycle race through the Rocky Mountains replacing the festive little “subway challenge” animated subway race they do on the scoreboard back home in Yankee Stadium. “The four train! The four’s a LOCK!” I would yell, every time; so I went for the green Harley tonight, but he lost. Just like the goddamned Yankees. Oh well.

But I supported the troops, with the standard Yankee war chant: “LET’s go, YANkees!” (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap!) I did this until my throat was raw. It was a great game, really, despite the loss, and the popularity of the Yankees actually brought the pain of attending a MLB game back to the fore; the 41,000+ fans that showed up for the game actually stayed ‘till the bitter end, so the mass exodus was a study in group dynamics and the effects of alcohol. It also took 30 minutes to get out of the parking garage, and this was due to retards paying with change—just goes to show you assholes are everywhere, not just in New York. By the way, we parked several blocks from the stadium because the main lot was full, and all the commercial garages within several blocks of the stadium were charging between $25 and $40 to park for the evening. The best part was the handwritten signs with “$40” written on them, hastily taped over the normal $15 charge on the event parking signs they were all displaying. Do pirate parking lot attendants travel with the Yankees? One wonders.

The experience was in many ways a taste of what I miss about New York, and what I don’t. But above all, it was a great birthday present and a great night at the ballpark. Thanks, Brenda!

Came across this gem on YouTube, some video of a guy walking around in Section 39 at Yankee Stadium with a Red Sox jersey on, and the loving Yankee fans telling him exactly what he is for doing so. Gotta love those Yankee fans…

Sox Fan in the Wrong House