Archive for July 2008
HBP
30. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I can’t help it. When HBP hits a batter now, I laugh.
I take a perverse pleasure every time his number increases and feel something akin to, not, but akin to, pride that he is the HBP leader in both leagues. In the eighth inning tonight, HBP hit a Y and was ejected from the game by an overreacting ump. It was an unfair ejection, yet I was tickled. Not just because he hit a Y. That’s a bonus, of course. It’s that I’ve come to count on at least one batter getting it and I feel a little cheated if HBP makes it through an entire game without adding one to his magical number.
We narrowly won tonight, but we won with HBP pitching eight innings before his ejection. JJ was brilliant and Sherrill showed us his specialty, his own unique flavor of fan torture.
Final score: 7-6 thanks to Huff’s insurance homer in the 9th. I can’t say what I want to say because I don’t want to jinx it, but I know you know what I’m thinking.
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Well Done!
29. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I’m back at work. Because that is depressing enough, I thought I might as well look at the standings. Okay, we’re 11 games back, but we broke our Sunday losing streak and we stomped all over the Ys yesterday. 13-4. 13-4. Delicious!
You see! Things are looking up!
I left Mindpinball in charge of the team while I was gone, so let us thank him publicly for an outstanding job!
(Please don’t blame me if we lose tonight.)
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Back in Charlotte…
29. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
We’re just back to Charlotte and there’s so much to say that I can’t wait until I have a block of time long enough to write about it. I can’t wait to share about the Ys fans who ran their mouths (it’s a given), and Frank, and the B&B where I stayed and the wonderful, wonderful Inn owner and other guests that we met, what Cooperstown is normally like on an Induction weekend…the beauty of the varyingly tall and rolling hills of upstate New York that I could never adequately describe…I want to capture all these memories while they’re still fresh, to keep them indelibly and permanently captured through this virtual medium. Even more, I wish I could stop time to live the experience in slower motion, to savor these memories for a little longer before they begin to fade, as they do so quickly the minute one returns to the normal daily cycle of work and chores.
For now, I will not write much. I will happily organize the laundry and open the mail, my excuse to procrastinate learning the outcome of this weekend’s games. (The longer I am away from the Internet, the better.) I will hold onto my Cooperstown high…
It was after this point last year that things got really ugly. More specifically, we found our way irretrievably into a pit of despair after mid-August. The Os were waiting to see if Trembley could handle a loss before officially appointing him as manager. Handle a loss, he did. Perhaps this year, this weekend will mark the turning point when we recover, when we resurface, drawing in a long, deep breath after suffocating, lifeless and listless without air for too long in the depths of the division. Maybe we will no longer need to hold our collective breath through the Orioles pitching, exhaling when we bat, and starting the cycle all over again the next inning, until all breath escapes in frustrated sighs. Perhaps, this will be when we remind the entire baseball world that we command respect, that we cannot be so easily dismissed, that we are the Baltimore Orioles, and in our short history have produced six of the greatest players baseball has known. Yes, we have an admittedly smaller, but it is just as loyal, following, and we know that though one team may have more Hall of Famers, their history is longer. A history, do not forget, that started with us. These fans may swell with pride in their great sums of money and strategy for purchasing more than fostering and growing, but their superiority, if any is warranted, is our superiority, as they were once us, founded in our fair city.
But this isn’t about them. It’s about us and a new and energizing era in Baltimore, about our own history and future of greatness. Future. Greatness. The Orioles will again breed a caliber of player that belongs in the Hall. For some of us, the existing six are special and cannot be equaled. We will always revere them and the memories they gave us with an unmatched fondness. We will always regard them as unique. ‘No one like them.” Yet, our hearts are big and there is room for more and different love. We are eager and ready to make room for new talent, to start filing away stories of magnificence for future reminiscing. We don’t want to buy a World Series. That is unsatisfying and inglorious. We want family. We want to be awed as our young, new rookies mature, as they develop and astound us with their ability. We choose to suffer with them as they grow because that’s what families do; it is the price in order to rejoice. We want Orioles and the Oriole Way. Our success may not be overnight; maturation is a process. But when that success comes, we want it to be ours, with ORIOLES.
I realize how all this may sound, but this is what Cooperstown does to you. If you love baseball, you cannot help but leave the town feeling in love. A sparkle in your eyes, you cannot wait to come home and share with others who love what you love the enthusiasm that is infused in you after only a weekend. It overcomes you.
But there will be more of and about that later…for now, I have to get back to procrastinating with laundry, holding onto this hope and wonderful mood for as long as possible.
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Cooperstown Bound
25. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I have started several posts in the last week, but haven’t been able to finish them. Really, it’s not right the misery of our pitching. If we could have, like, just mediocre pitching, our bats could take us the rest of the way. But, nevermind. We all know that. What more can we say except that we’ll keep bleeding orange, and one day, everything will come together, I hope with most of the members from our current team. At such point, we will hear the beautiful singing of angels and I will be sitting in the stands watching every game in person. (This fantasy is entwined with my Lotto fantasy that I’ll have to save for another time.)
Last night, Jim Palmer and Gary Thorne interviewed Cal Ripken, Jr. and Eddie Murray in the broadcast booth. Learning that they will both be in Cooperstown served to mitigate some of my suffering that I am not in Baltimore on so many occasions this season when the Orioles are honoring the ‘83 team. Sure I didn’t get a Wild Bill Hagy t-shirt, but in three short days, I will have the honor of viewing Eddie and Cal from a great distance through a zoom lens during the Induction ceremony. And this year, perhaps the zoom lens will actually work, and take pictures, unlike last year during the Great Conspiracy of the Electronics to destroy the last threads of my sanity and have me permanently institutionalized. They didn’t win. But it was close.
Will I meet Goose? I haven’t heard a reply from the guys who claim to be friends with him, and as my luck runs, it would be foolish to assume that I should hope for anything other that enjoying the wonderful gift of being in Cooperstown during Induction weekend. Truthfully, that will be plenty enough for which to be grateful, especially considering my husband, who had no intentions of ever returning to Cooperstown, agreed to come with me. (I think he may actually be on the verge of becoming a fan despite grumbling tonight, “You’re not planning to watch the game again tonight, are you??” Yes, I handed him the remote. What choice did I have? On second thought, his accompanying me to Cooperstown may work against me. How many points do I have to award and for how long? I’m just realizing that I didn’t completely think this through.)
Tomorrow will be the first time I’ve been to New York City in more than seventeen years. We’re hoping to eat in Carneige Deli, tour the Rockefeller Center, and walk the streets of Manhattan before we drive the rest of the distance to CTown. I know nothing will compare to last year’s experience, but this year will have a charm all its own. Namely, the ability to park a car without paying a small ransom or getting up before the sun to find a space.
If there is time or wireless Internet access, I will post at Nomadic Traveler. I’m temporarily turning over the chaperoning responsibility to you, dear readers, and I expect to come back to a winning team in time for the Ys series!
Happy weekend my friends!!
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Daily Cheer
21. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I was certain that yesterday we would end our Sunday losing streak. Absolutely certain. First, there’s statistics. Then, if they didn’t want to be on our side, I did the backup. I jumped on Oprah’s, “Laws of Attraction (crap)” bandwagon, sending positive thoughts out into the universe, telling the Orioles that they would win (”WIN DAMN YOU!”). Yet, strangely, it didn’t work. ???
As someone who doesn’t really believe in the supernatural, I think I know what’s up. I hate to blame Wild Bill again, but consider this. He died on a Monday (August 20). The previous Sunday, we lost to Toronto 2-3. It was probably that loss, after so many, watching Hoey, Cabrera, oh, let us not speak the names, that sent him “home” as some say. I think it’s only logical to assume that Wild Bill…oh forget it.
I can’t even come up with some twisted way to blame Wild Bill. There is no answer, no explanation for why a team we love so much likes to hurt us in creative, new ways.
Nevermind. Let’s not think about our cursed fate for a moment, and enjoy this moment with Jose Canseco. To my knowledge, it is one of the few ways that the Orioles have not had their bad luck expressed. Yet.
I’ll try to find other things to cheer us. I mean some of us are really bummed. Some of us really thought we had a shot at some finish above last. Some of us don’t even have the courage to look at the standings because we can’t handle the truth. Some of us wonder in the quiet of the night, “WHY! WHY! WHY TAMPA, DAMMIT! WHY CAN’T WE EVER HAVE THE GOOD PITCHING!!!! $&@@#%&*($&!!!” Then our face turns all red and screwy and our eyes get all swirly and crazy, and we look just like Odd Todd when he’s fighting with MCI.
Then some of us take a deep breath and try to make peace with the situation, admitting that yes, Tampa deserves first too, and we don’t begrudge them that, though it would have been courteous if all of this could have happened when I lived in Tampa. Then we try to think about Cooperstown and how much fun that will be. Then we’re all better again. Almost better. Almost.
There will be a lot of Ys fans in C-Town and that will be quite awful. Quite awful. But we will proudly sport our orange and black and cocoon in little happy baseball world pretending that Ys fans are really just like normal people. Normal, really bad, soulless people.
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Luuuuuuukkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeee!
20. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I think the title says it all.
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Definition of a Friend
17. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I’ve been deservedly damned to hell. A friend of mine and I were talking on the phone a couple nights ago. As we were talking I was watching the start of the All Star Game. I assumed he was too. “Oh, there’s Frank” I exclaimed. “Are you watching the game?” “No,” he replied, “I wasn’t planning on it.”
But no self-respecting Orioles fan could hear that Frank was on the TV and not turn it on. So he did. A few minutes later the camera showed Earl. We shared our delight. After chatting for half an hour, including our usual argument over some piece of Orioles trivia, this time over whether Dempsey did (he did, I saw it!) or did not ever perform his rain delay home run act at Memorial Stadium, we hung up and went about our nights. For my part, I turned off the All Star game in the fifth inning to read and went to bed at a fairly reasonable hour. Somewhere in a small city in Ohio, my friend was sucked into watching a game he never intended to watch that lasted fifteen innings until 2:00 a.m. on a work night.
I chuckle with self-satisfaction. That’s what a real friend is. A real friend helps you overcome your baseball apathy even at the cost of your job performance. (Plus, that’s what he gets for not trusting my Orioles authority.)
SGG bringing positive change to the world. Just one more service I provide.
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SGG Keys to the Game
8. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
Welcome to the SGG Advice Column, where no Oriole will ever come for advice.
Before every Orioles game, Rick Dempsey provides his list of “Keys to the Game.” I confess that I usually don’t get to see them because there just isn’t enough time in the day to work full time, watch the pre-game show, the post-game show, and three or more hours of baseball, plus still have time left for cooking, laundry, or attending to daily hygiene (though I’ve scaled back on these things as much as I can).
I’ll grant that Dempsey may have more experience or be more qualified than I to make a list, but since concern for quality has never been a deterrent to me running my mouth, I’m making my own list. It’s more of a general “Keys to Success” since I’ve been promising all season that we’re going to the World Series, and even I, in all my denial must admit that things have to start happening now if the Orioles are going to fulfill this promise to my one loyal reader (thanks!).
Here we go. Here’s how we get to the WS:
1) Outfit HBP with a bluetooth headset. When he starts losing focus, ring him and talk him through it.
2) Allow Cabrera to pitch more. I don’t know his full story yet, but perhaps we could try him as a starter?
3) Liz, sorry, not ready. Three wild pitches in one game tell me somethin jus ain’t right.
4) Massage therapy. I met this creepy masseuse in February who told me during a very worrisome and uncomfortable massage, between panting (story for another time), that he and some friends used to work for a minor league team. The masseuse’s friend worked for the Cubs and he spouted off a long list of numbers (on which I was able to concentrate only marginally given that the greater part of my attention was focused on devising an escape plan if it came to that, and I was quite sure that it would) about how many fewer injuries the team incurred from the massage and stretching program his friend devised. I promised myself to never set foot in a discount massage parlor again, so I have never seen the dude again and consequently can’t tell you how credible he was, but the idea makes sense. Given the activity of our DL, this may be something our team is missing.
5) Don’t let Burres pitch again unless everyone else on the team, including Roberts, is involved in some freak accident that amputates all their arms.
6) Don’t trade any fielders. Nope. I said, “NO!” Wen ich nein sage, ist nein!
7) Tell the starters to pitch better and not give away so many runs.
8 ) Tell Hernandez to catch the ball.
9) Tell Trembley to keep doing what he’s been doing. We love him!
10) Ditto for JJ and Triple Hot (though for the latter, perhaps some love is not for a strictly baseball reason). Does it matter though? Love is love.
That’s it. Pretty doable, don’t you think?
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HBP
3. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
My husband is complaining that he hasn’t eaten yet, “Will there be food tonight?” Some days I wonder what I was thinking marrying a baseball-less Brit. Anyway, I have to keep this short, cause I do love the man, and it would be tragic if he starved to death because of my neglect.
Here’s the two-second wrap, because it is so note-worthy, I have to share. HBP pitched tonight. Are you ready for this? NINE FULL INNINGS! NINE. Guess how many walks? Wrong! ZERO! Guess how many batters he hit? ZERO again! Isn’t that phenomenal!
Look out Josh, our man is finding his game. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to change my nickname for him to Strikes. That would be a heavenly world.
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Nanny Nanny Boo Boo
3. July 2008 by Orioles Fanatic.
I have a dear friend from Baltimore who now lives in another state. We’ve been close since the 9th grade, and as much as I love him, he has a really annoying habit. He likes to argue every fine point about the Orioles with me, even though, a) I watch every game and he lives in a desolate place without MASN and b) Hello!
At the beginning of this season, he made some snide remark when Olson was brought up to the Os, “Isn’t he the one you hated last season?” “One of the ones I hated,” I corrected. In another conversation last year I was complaining about Hernandez’s lack of success in throwing out base stealers, “I miss Dempsey. No one stole a base on his watch.” My annoying friend promptly looked up statistics to prove to me that Dempsey was just average. Average my tushy.
This is how some people go wrong. They think they know the game or can predict a team’s success just by looking at the numbers. I’ll say it again, numbers only paint part of the picture. There’s much, much more to the game. For example, statistics don’t tell you when a play that was scored as a hit could have been a double play if your fielder had been a little faster, or when a reliever prevented the runners he inherited from scoring. (Well, I’m sure there is some statistic like that, it is baseball after all, but hopefully you know what I’m saying.)
Anyway, the whole point of this post is to point everyone to this wonderful post at Roar from 34, in which my whole point about Dempsey is confirmed by someone who is smarter and less biased than I.
In my usual mature way, I virtually stick out my tongue to my know-it-all friend. 
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