Baseball has started, which made me think about dad. How old was I when we first played catch? When he taught me to throw and catch a baseball? I know I was young. I also thought about some of the other life lessons that were a part of that process.
Continue reading “Playing Catch”
The Natās pitchers and catchers reported for spring training last week on February 12th. Iām excited, but also a bit sad. My old friend, Bill Wagner, passed away last September. He was the owner of the season ticket group I belong to and there will be a hole in my heart on Opening Day.
Continue reading “Play Ball!”
Last Thursday, I checked something off my bucket list – for the first time ever, I saw a no-hitter at Nats Park. Of course God had the last laugh. The Nats were no-hit by San Diegoās Dylan Cease. I guess beggars canāt be choosers when it comes to bucket list items.
No-hitters are a rarity. There might be one or three in any given baseball season. Thatās one or three no-hitters, out of the 2,430 games the 30 teams play each year, not counting the playoffs. Iāve seen many grand slam home runs over the years. Iāve seen walk-off homers. I even checked off another bucket list item when I made a Nats World Series game in 2019 (they lost the game, but won the series). But a no-hitter? Thatās a big no-no never. Until July 26th, 2024.
The game started at noon and at 12:15, there was a rain delay of 76 minutes. The first half inning wasnāt even over. When the game resumed around 1:30, Natās pitcher Corbin gave up three runs. Ugghhh. After that, he settled down and both Corbin and Cease were pitching well.
At the top of the 6th, I looked at my watch. Holy Cow! It was only 2:30. 4 1/2 innings were covered in one hour. THAT is some fast and effective pitching. It was also about then I noticed the Nats didnāt yet have a hit. Still plenty of time for that.
By the 7th, we were talking about the possibility amongst ourselves. The Nats went no-where that inning. You could feel the tension mounting in the park.
The 8th – the same thing. Cease got the side out on 9 pitches total. We were all talking. Could this/would this really happen?
And then it was the 9th. Vargas made him work for an eight-pitch groundout. Young ground out on the next pitch, and a yell went up inside the park. Abrams came up with two outs. He hit a low liner that looked like it might drop, and NO! The right fielder caught it!
The San Diego fans in the stadium let out a roar. And then the Nats fans stood up and the vast majority of us also started clapping. Not for the Padres winning, but the superb effort Cease had given. You can honor effort and history without disrespecting your team and thatās what we were doing. Against the Nats, I wouldnāt have said he was dominant, but he was d@mned efficient.
It turns out Cease has only given up two hits in the last 22 innings he has pitched. The man is currently on fire. Itās also worth pointing out he played for the White Sox before this season. Jerry Reinsdorf traded him away at the start of this season. Did I mention no one in Chicago cares much for Reinsdorf these days?
And the Nats? Since baseball returned to Washington in 2005, itās only the second time theyāve been no-hit in the last 14 years.
Iāve thought about my emotions at the end of the game. Through the 8th, I was hoping for a hit and a rally from the Nats. In the 9th? I was holding my breath, and to be honest, Iām not quite sure what I hoped. For the Nats to win? Certainly. But on that last at bat? Two outs? Yea, maybe I was holding my breath, waiting to see if history would be made. I know after the right fielder caught the line drive, I too rose, and softly clapped. You can honor effort and history without disrespecting your team.
Two questions simultaneously occupied my brain ā āWhy would I possibly order a hotdog with mac nā cheese and crab meat on it?ā – and – āHow could I possibly turn down a hotdog with mac nā cheese and crab meat on it!?ā I admit it – Iāve sampled some strange ādogs at the ballpark this year.
Until last season, a good brat stand was not far from our seats and it became my go-to place at Natās Park. Itās gone now, or moved somewhere else. Instead, behind our seats in section 219 is a concession stand with burgers and hotdogs. It also has a specialty hotdog called āTaste of the Majorsā on the menu.
The āTaste of the Majorsā hotdog changes every series, depending on who the visiting team is and where they are from. It pairs the hotdog with something that city or region is known for.
If the Cubs or White Sox are visiting, itās easy and a straightforward Chicago dog is on the menu. With Milwaukee, itās always a brat instead of a hotdog, maybe with grilled onions if you want. Both of those make sense. Itās when other cities visit that things can get, well, a little strange.
Earlier this season, when the Baltimore Orioles were in town, they added crab meat and mac nā cheese. The crab meat I understood, but not sure I knew Balāmore was a mac ān cheese hotbed. Seeing it on the menu, I felt both appalled and intrigued. āIntriguedā won out and I ordered it.
And?
In its own weird way, it was delicious. And messy. I needed a knife and fork to finish eating it.
A few weeks later, the NY Mets were in town. The Taste of the Majors ādog? A hotdog with pastrami, sour kraut and mustard. Excellent. A hotdog with kraut is fairly normal, so the pastrami was just a nice add-on. As a bonus, no knife or fork were required.
A week later the Atlanta Braves were visiting. OK, this was interesting – A deep fried hotdog with pulled pork, BBQ sauce, cole slaw and a pickle. My stomach rumbled just looking at the description. My brain said no. My stomach said no. Some other part of me said āYou must try this!ā, so I ordered it. It was interesting, butā¦ I wouldnāt get it a second time. I thought it might be a cousin to a chili dog and taste pretty good, but that wasnāt the case. It tasted just as strange as it first sounded. I should note did take a Pepcid before going to bed that night. Curiously, as I write this blog, I am re-tasting the Atlanta dog – a not entirely pleasant sensation.
So the early season review? The Oās ādog was intriguing and good; the Mets ādog was a perfect blend of tastes; and the Braves ādog was a clash of flavors that didnāt quite work together.
Each of these puppies weighed in at around 850-900 calories. Healthy is never a term used to describe a hotdog, let alone these bad boys. Cath rolls her eyes when I tell her what I had to eat at the park. Still, my macabre fascination remains. We arenāt at the All-Star break yet and there are many games and ādogs to go. At some point, will common sense or my taste buds prevail and Iāll heed Nancy Reaganās advice and āJust say no!ā to these mutants?
Thatās a question I canāt definitively answer, but my guess is that for better or worse, I have a few more āTaste of the Majorsā hotdog creations in my future.
Addendum:
ā Between this blog and the one I did about sausage gravy Pizza, Iām sure at least some people are asking what the hell kind of stuff is Max putting in his system. I actually do eat healthily most of the time – salads, vegetables/vegetarian, some meat, and not much dairy, potatoes or pasta. Still, I think itās good to enjoy life and challenge the olā digestive track on occasion. Otherwise, whatās the point of it all?
“Love is the most important thing in the world, but baseball is pretty good, too.” – Yogi Berra.
Iāve loved baseball since I was a kid. Unfortunately, itās probably going to be a long season for our No Name Gnats this year. Still, I love live baseball and Iām happy Opening Day is finally here this week. A beer and a brat will be a fine way to start the year, and weāll see what develops.
2019 and the Nats World Series win was eons ago now. Since then, itās been three straight last place finishes. Many of the heroes of ā19 are scattered around the league – Scherzer, Turner, Soto and Rendon to name a few. Zim, Baby Shark, Eaton, and Kendrick are all retired. Robles is still here in the outfield, but hasnāt put up great (or even good) numbers. And of course, we still have Strasburg and Corbin here in DC. Those two sure helped us win in ā19, but have been a disaster ever since. Stras has pitched a total of just over 30 innings since ā19 and Corbin was the worst pitcher in all of baseball last year.
Ownership is up in the air – will they or wonāt they sell the team? Or will they bring in another partner? Or do nothing? Nobody knows.
Fans are, well, fans. You can tell the ones that jumped on the bandwagon in 2019 – most of those are long gone ā¦ after whining incessantly and displaying their lack of knowledge. Among the real fans, the long term fans, there is grumbling as well. But itās a different type of grumbling. It comes with an understanding of the ups and downs and the fickleness of baseball. Everyone is unhappy about the ownership situation (will they or wonāt they). People understood trading Scherzer two years ago, and even Turner, who had a year left on his contract. Soto? That one hurt.
I remind folk that weāve been through nothing. You want long term suffering? Be a Cubs or Red Sox fan – they went 80 to 100 years between World Series wins. Cleveland is currently sitting on a 75 year streak with no World Series. Three last place finishes after winning the World Series? No, Iām not happy about it, but please, get some perspective people.
And so we come to the ā23 season. A probable opening day lineup of players most people outside of DC have never heard of – Thomas, Smith, Menenes, Garcia, Ruiz, Abrams, Robles, Dickerson and Candelario. Pitchers will include the previously mentioned Corbin, along with Gray, Gore and a couple of others TBD. Seriously, how many of those names do you know? Hell, most fans in DC donāt know several of those names either.
Itās generally a young line up, and Iām particularly excited to see what Garcia, Ruiz and Abrams can do in the field, and Gray and Gore on the mound. With luck, we will see a couple of bright spots.
For this year, the team will be what it will be and Iāve made my peace with that. Iām just happy to get back to the park, as sure a sign of spring as anything I know. As the great Hall of Famer and Saint Louis Cardinal 2nd basemen Rogers Hornsby once said – āPeople ask me what I do in the winter when there is no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”
See you at Nats Park. Iāll be in section 219.
Summer is almost here and schools will soon release their prisoners for the season. I envy the kids and their feelings of anticipation right now. Summertime, and the livinā will be easyā¦ Of course lots of the summer will be planned out, as seemingly everything is for children these days. Do they ever have the chance to just act like kids?
I was thinking back to summertime during my own youth and growing up in Tomahawk Terrace on the Southside of Ottawa, Illinois – population 18,000. There wasnāt much planning of our time at all, with every day itās own adventure. Playground at the school? Playing Horse or two-on-two basketball at Schaeferās or Cavanaughās house? Playing army in Varlandās nearby corn field or cow pasture? Hanging out and reading comics? ā¦ The possibilities were endless.
There were some organized activities in my life, such as Little League Baseball, or Boy Scout Camp, but most of the time? It was just us kids hanging out. You had to be home for lunch, and you had to be home for dinner. After that, I donāt really remember any other requirements.
I think one of the best memories was playing āWork Upā baseball behind Honerās house, next to the cemetery.
Work Up? Whatās that you say? Itās the baseball game you play when you donāt have enough players for two teams, or maybe even one team. Hell, itās the game the kids on the movie āSandlotā would have been playing if the film had really gotten it right (and yes, I do love the movie).
The rules? Well there werenāt really any rules, but there were norms. Typically weād have 7, 8 or 9 guys show up to play. Youād have 2 or 3 guys up to bat, with the remainder in the field. In our case, that included, in order of importance, a pitcher, 1st baseman, shortstop, 2nd baseman, and right and center fielders. We didnāt have a catcher, it was just whoever was up next to bat. The game was called Work Up because you would bat and run the bases until you made an out. Then the pitcher would go in to join the batters, the first basemen became the pitcher, and everyone else advanced one position. Whoever made the out moved to right field. Oh, and if you hit a fly ball and someone caught it, you did a direct exchange with that player.
The game was really adaptable. As an example, if you didnāt have enough kids, there might be only one outfielder, or maybe no 2nd baseman.
The only rules I really remember concerned Left Field. Our āball diamondā had a graveyard where much of left field normally was. We never put a player in left field, although the center fielder might shade that way a bit. When you were at bat, if you hit a tombstone on the fly, it was an out – we basically assumed the gravestone ācaughtā the ball. If you hit a tombstone on the ground, we assumed the gravestone fielded a grounder and it was an automatic double. If you hit a ball and it didnāt touch any of the gravestones (almost impossible to do), then the ball was in play.
I donāt remember us ever having a set time for a game. Word just spread around and some number of guys would show up. We might play pickle, while waiting for enough folk to show. Most everybody was from the āTerrace, with the occasional friend or cousin added in. This included the Honer brothers, the Hinsons, Deaks, Hazelwoods, Steve Schaefer, John Levy, Chuck Ogden, Jim Habben, one of the Leach boys, Leonard Mayberry, Howard ā¦ other names I have long forgotten. If everyone showed up, weād actually have enough for two teams and play pick-up, but that rarely happened. Kids ranged in age from a couple years older than me to a couple years younger, and there were lots of younger brothers in attendance. One unwritten rule was you didnāt try and take advantage of the younger kids. I mean, it was OK if one of your hits went towards them, but if you did it every time? Not so cool.
By the way, there was never an adult in sight. We seemed to manage just fine by ourselves, without their oversight or interference.
I donāt recall much about the games themselves, I just remember playing the game on hot summer days until we were tired. It might have been an hour, it might have gone on for three hours. Eventually someoneās mom would call and that player went home and then someone else would have to leave, and the game slowly broke up. We might reconvene again the next day, or maybe not until a week later.
I know itās a different world today. Things are more complex, more challenging, and perhaps less safe. Kidās lives, from what I can see as an outside observer and non-parent, are organized to the nth degree. Multiple activities, multiple practices, multiple study activities. I guess they are able to try more things, but I also think some things might get lost in the process, like the ability to entertain yourself, informal group interactions and how to handle them, and perhaps even learning a little about leadership for better or worseā¦
I dunno, do kids even want to spend time outside these days, or is it all mostly computer and video games? Back in the day, I know mom, or our babysitter, would have kicked us out of the house if we were hanging there too much.
I suppose some of this makes me sound like a grumpy old man after a fashion. I donāt really mean it that way. I just remember how much fun we had hanging out on our own behind Honerās house, playing ball and trying like hell to not hit a fly ball to left field, where it was sure to be caught by a tombstoneā¦
Addendum:
(With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Taylor).
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Baseball, the fans are all locked out.
Of course Taylorās poem, Casey at the Bat is a classic. The famous last stanza is a monument to hubris:
ā¦
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville – mighty Casey has struck out.
Unfortunately, the billionaire owners and millionaire players are fighting over money again this year. Like the Mighty Casey, their hubris knows no bounds. They need to be careful, or they too might strike out.
Who doesnāt have a seat at the table? We fans.
Iāve been a baseball fan since I was a kid. Although I started as a White Sox fan like most of my friends at the time, Iāve been a Cardinal fan since ā64, when they won the World Series and my father convinced me of the error of my ways.
Iāve remained a Cardinal fan, but Iāve also followed other teams over the years. Truth be told, I love live baseball. I may take a nap watching a game on TV, but in the ballpark? I love it. There is nothing like being at the ball park. The excitement, smells, and sounds. Having a beer and a brat. The roar of the crowd. Itās a very nostalgic feeling.
Over the years, Iāve attended live baseball games all over the country. Certainly the Cards, Cubs and White Sox back home, but I followed several other teams as well.
Many folks hate the Yankees, however, when I was at West Point in the ā70s, military personnel could attend games for free and I went to a few. The military wasnāt particularly popular then, and their gesture has always stayed with me. When we moved to DC in ā89, there was no local baseball, but the Orioles were just up the road. Cath and I attended the occasional game at the old Memorial Stadium, and then when they built Camden Yard, we bought a mini season ticket plan with friends.
When the Nats came to DC, I became a season ticket holder with three other friends. They were great seats, right behind home plate. We kept those tickets for their first two years at RFK stadium, and then they jacked the prices up, and we let them go.
Several years later, I joined another group of four guys and have been attending Nats games ever since. I saw the All Star game in ā18 when it was in DC, and made one of the World Series games in 2019, when they won it all. I still root for the Cardinals, but Iām as much of a Nats Fan as a Cardinal Fan these days. Donāt tell my dad – heād probably roll over in his graveā¦ š
I love baseball.
And now? Now, I just donāt get it. The 2020 season was lost due to Covid. The first third of the 2021 season only had limited seating, again due to Covid. You would think the last thing anyone would want now, is an impact on the 2022 season, and yet, here we are. The first two series of the season are already cancelled, and they are about to cancel more.
I wonāt pretend to understand the intricacies of the current negotiations. What I do know is that they are continuing to lose fans. Greed never looks good, and to this fan, thatās what it looks like. Greed on the part of the owners, and greed on the part of the players.
Itās true fans donāt have a seat at the negotiating table. Ultimately though, fans DO have a vote – they can vote with their pocket books. It seems to me that both the owners and the players could learn something from Caseyās hubris.
This fan of baseball for the past sixty years is considering his options for the future.
Addendum:
– Special Thanks to my niece, Tami Harmon, who provided several suggestions for this blog. A life long Cubs fan, she knows quite a bit about baseball.
– Casey at the Bat was originally written in 1888. You can find a link to the complete poem here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45398/casey-at-the-bat
– UPDATE: Two days after this blog was originally published, the two sides reached an agreement. Iām sure this write up is what pushed them across the line. ;-).
