First off, we want to send a shout out to a group of guys and gals with whom we've had the gleeful delight of sharing our thoughts on music. It is a closed email group with a mysterious history but a mighty future. Though there is little point, and even less moderation, to our communiques, the recurrent theme is the music that moves us with a spotlight shown on the why, how, when, and where. Without this gang of oddballs, the majority of music on The Banter of One's lists would not be on The Banter of One's lists. Viva la Geek!
So without further fuss, here is our Top Twenty of Twenty-Eleven.
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1) Girls Father, Son, Holy Ghost
Nothing on here sounds new, yet nothing on here sounds as if we've ever heard it before. Pink Floyd, Otis Redding, Deep Purple are all represented, yet this album does not sound even remotely like any of their albums, these styles so masterfully weaved in and out of the overlying nap of the album proper. That's a huge credit to the writing and singing styles of head Girl, Christopher Owens.
2) The Rural Alberta Advantage Departing
We're pretty sure what makes this band so enjoyable is the drumming of Paul Banwatt. When we first heard The RAA, we were taken aback by the fills and attacks, and pure firmness, of his style. But then we saw them in concert, and we couldn't take our eyes off of him. He keeps lead singer Nils Edenloff's lyrics on a path right to your midsection, delivering his message with a pace and urgency that we just don't tire of. Departing contains song after song of well crafted goodness, both lyrically and musically, right up to, but not including that last track, "Good Night." Jeez, it's terrible.
3) Tom Waits Bad as Me
We're not gonna lie, we're pretty big Tom Waits fans, so we took to listening to this one a ton, just to make sure it wasn't a biased selection. Then, during all that listening, a funny thing happened. It just kept getting better and better and better still. The Godfather of Simple Grandeur just does what he does so well, it blows our minds. And it's got Keith Richards on it, and we can't really even tell. Meaning to say, Mr. Waits (or, specifically, Mrs. Waits — Kathleen Brennan — who gets the production credit) doesn't need to tip the production to showcase guests who might be more well-known than he, because, well, he just doesn't.
4) Thao and Mirah (Self Titled)
We've always generally liked Thao Nguyen's offerings (sometimes recording with The Get Down Stay Down), and so knew we'd download this one the second it dropped, even though we had no clue who Mirah was (and really still don't). Boy howdy, are we glad we did. It sounds sparse, even though it's not really sparse. It sounds angelic, yet it's not really angelic. It comes off with such ease, it just drips into our ear canals like honey, intoxicatingly so, and before we know it, the album's over. So melodic and beautiful.
5) Jolie Holland Pint of Blood
Her lyrical delivery comes off like some mysterious drug that works unlike any drug yet known to man. It tricks your mind into thinking you know exactly what she's singing about, yet you have not a clue. And it's not synthetic. Nope, totally natural, like something growing indigenously on the only plot of land not yet discovered on this earth. Hers is a sound that sounds brand new everytime we listen to her. Not an easy feat, let us tell you.
6) Iron and Wine Kiss Each Other Clean
I know, I shouldn't like these guys any more, right, cuz they're all over the Twilight soundtracks? Damn sell-outs. Not so, say we! At least not where I&W are concerned. No one does whisper rock better than Sam Beam. This is one of the earliest releases of the year to make this list, which, to us, says it stood up to the test of time. No question there will be selections on this list that we will wish we had vetted better come this time next year, but this won't be one of them.
7) Lia Ices Grown Unknown
Not unlike M&Ms, melts in your eardrums, not in your hands, its hard candy shell protecting the sweet goodness inside from getting all over everything. But once the shell comes off, it's pure pleasure, inside and out. Like an old Kate Bush album, it uses musically only what it needs to prop up a seraphic voice just so. So right.
8) Gillian Welch The Harrow and the Harvest
Like Lucinda Williams' Blessed later on this list, there's nothing new here, in terms of their oeuvre, but when someone does something so well, so consistently, it just gets listened to a lot. And that can't be discounted. We're not gonna just say, "Well, it's no Time (The Revelator) — or Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, in Lucinda's case — so it doesn't deserve to be on this list." Nope. In fact, we had a damn hard time keeping this out of the Top Five. With Dave Rawlings, her lyrics (first) and picking (OK, also first), just meander out of the speakers and dance around us like happy little devils, joyously so.
9) White Denim D
The first real rocker on this list and one that we think deserved way more indie cred than it got. What a blast this is to listen to, time and time again. It does so methodically, calculatingly, daringly, and with aplomb.
10) The Black Lips Arabia Mountain
Hey! It's the second real rocker on this list. Even though they're two totally different albums, just take the above description and replace "with applomb" with "without apology." Yeah. That'll do.
11) Middle Brother (Self Titled)
They're basically the Dawes lead singer and Deertick's lead singer, and some other guy who we're not familiar with who all got together, pretty much on a whim, we think, and put together an album. In fact, when they introduce themselves on their Daytrotter set, they don't even have a name yet. Regardless, I hope they get together some more in the future. Thoroughly enjoyable.
12) Centro-matic Candidate Waltz
Thick, groovy, dirty, yet poppy ditties that get into your pores, and stay there.
13) Lucinda Williams Blessed
See #8
14) Kurt Vile Smoke Ring for My Halo
Guitar driven, guitar delivered.
15) Deerhoof Deerhoof vs Evil
Kinda Cibo Matto-ey, but eschew the pop for the rock.
16) Destroyer Kaputt
Dan Bejar has always been hit or miss for us, although we will say that a lot of our favorite New Pornographer songs are ones he penned, but on this one, he's consistently delivering the kind of Canadian pop only Bejar can summon.
17) Jessica Lea Mayfield Tell Me
Only 21 when she released this album in February, there's nothing immature about it. It's country at its core, but not exclusively so. Lick it up.
18) James Blake (Self Titled)
We don't usually care for albums made without any real instruments. And, to be fair, there's piano on this one, but so much of it, including the vocals, is put through the sonic blender. But what comes out when the blendin's done, is remarkably cohesive. It won't get anyone dancing, but, hell, half the stuff on this list won't either.
19) Agesandages Alright You Restless
We kept passing this off as something that should get Honorable Mention at best, but it just kept calling our name. "Oh, Bantery," it would beckon. We'd try to pretend we didn't hear it. But it just kept hollering. It's not far off the path beaten by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros or Mumford & Sons, but this one's actually good.
20) The Indelicates David Koresh Superstar
What business does a little-known British band have putting together a concept album borne of the ATF's 1993 siege on the wacky Branch Davidian cult from Waco? None. None at all. But we're sure as hell glad they did.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Music of 2011, Part One (The Honorable Mentions)
We here at The Banter of One are kept on our feet by music. It's the thing that keeps all other things in order. It's like breathing, eating, and shelter for us. We've never tried to live without it, and we don't want to. Can't, we suspect.
And so, here we are at the end of another year — a great year. Thusly, we have some lists of music that we want to share. Stuff we thought was extremely satisfying. Herein lies Twenty Honorable Mention albums that we just couldn't fit into our Top Twenty list. Said Top Twenty List will follow in Part Two, and our favorite songs will appear in Part Three. There probably won't be a Part Four.
Off we go, in alphabetical order.
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Army and Navy The Last Place
Not a big fan of the eighties, but there were some good hooks from that exiguous decade, and this platter takes 'em and bakes 'em.
The Beastie Boys Hot Sauce Committee Part Two
Just great to have them back, and in force, too. Plus, the 30 minute "video" for "Make Some Noise" is epicly epic.
Kate Bush 50 Words for Snow
Probably would crack our Top Twenty if we had a few more weeks to let it sink in, but it's only been out for a short while. Ethereal, textural, and relaxing. Good to hear from one of our all-time faves, especially topnotchually.
Bill Callahan Apocolypse
You are probably more familiar with his music as Smog. He's not getting any worse, let's just say.
Dawes Nothing is Wrong
SoCal mellow offerings in the same vein as vintage Jackson Browne, America, or very early Eagles. It makes us feel young again.
Dinosaur Bones My Divider
Nothing pithy to share; just good, enjoyable pop tuneage.
The Donkeys Born with Stripes
Pop. Not soda, but music. Through and through. Thoroughly enjoyed every listen of this layered and toe-tappingly good disc.
Eleanor Friedberger Last Summer
Boy how we fell in love with this album when it came out. It was like nothing we'd ever heard before. Catchy vocals, uniquely and catchily wrapped around sparse compositions. But then we learned that she was the female half of the band The Fiery Furnaces — a band we'd been aware of, but not familiar with. And so we tuned into some of their albums, and fell in love with them, too, but in the end, we couldn't justify her landing on our Top Twenty list because it was more like a brief and torrid love affair, but one where, once the sex stopped being fun and new, we were just better off as friends. And we'll be friends for a long time.
Joe Henry Reverie
Recorded in a room in his house with all the windows open. So? It makes for a sonic quality that is as dramatic as it is comfortable. Like he's performing it in our own living room.
The Ladybug Transistor Clutching Stems
Vaguely brings back memories of Lloyd Cole and the Commotions. Nuff said, right?
Megafaun (Self titled)
Jaunty indie pop music, jauntily popping just the way we like it.
The Poison Control Center Stranger Ballet
See Megafaun
Portugal. The Man In the Mountain in the Cloud
See The Poison Control Center, except not indie, cuz it's on Atlantic, but still cool cuz they're from Alaska. Alaska!
The Rapture In the Grace of Your Love
At the risk of seeming to be getting lazy, see Army Navy.
St. Vincent Strange Mercy
Just exactly how this missed our Top Twenty list we're not quite sure, and we'll probably look back at this list this time next year and blame it on all the pain meds we're on right now. Edgy, slightly experimental-cum-beautiful music that challenges to grab your attention like a boa constrictor grabs its prey. But, of coure, you don't die.
TV on the Radio Nine Types of Light
Man, these guys are good. Uniquely, boldly, and purposefully going where no one else goes, not because no one else dares to do so, but because they don't know how.
The War on Drugs Slave Ambient
Layers of guitars and vocals that weave in and out of our consciousness like birds of prey coasting on the heat vectors high in the sky on a hot, sunny summer day, dipping, then rising, and dipping again, finally fetching their prey tightly in their tallons.
Yellow Ostrich The Mistress
Contains possibly our favorite song of the year, "Whale." Once it crams itself in your noggin, it stays there, but in a welcome way.
Dengue Fever Cannibal Courtship
Cambodian pop music? We're in. Infectious as it is incomparable.
The Sea and Cake The Moonlight Butterfly
Nothing terribly new from Sam Prekop and his Chicago brethren on their ninth album. Opulent pop meets opulent jazz, all jangly and wonderful. But like most of their music, honorably deserves mention.
And so, here we are at the end of another year — a great year. Thusly, we have some lists of music that we want to share. Stuff we thought was extremely satisfying. Herein lies Twenty Honorable Mention albums that we just couldn't fit into our Top Twenty list. Said Top Twenty List will follow in Part Two, and our favorite songs will appear in Part Three. There probably won't be a Part Four.
Off we go, in alphabetical order.
——————————
Army and Navy The Last Place
Not a big fan of the eighties, but there were some good hooks from that exiguous decade, and this platter takes 'em and bakes 'em.
The Beastie Boys Hot Sauce Committee Part Two
Just great to have them back, and in force, too. Plus, the 30 minute "video" for "Make Some Noise" is epicly epic.
Kate Bush 50 Words for Snow
Probably would crack our Top Twenty if we had a few more weeks to let it sink in, but it's only been out for a short while. Ethereal, textural, and relaxing. Good to hear from one of our all-time faves, especially topnotchually.
Bill Callahan Apocolypse
You are probably more familiar with his music as Smog. He's not getting any worse, let's just say.
Dawes Nothing is Wrong
SoCal mellow offerings in the same vein as vintage Jackson Browne, America, or very early Eagles. It makes us feel young again.
Dinosaur Bones My Divider
Nothing pithy to share; just good, enjoyable pop tuneage.
The Donkeys Born with Stripes
Pop. Not soda, but music. Through and through. Thoroughly enjoyed every listen of this layered and toe-tappingly good disc.
Eleanor Friedberger Last Summer
Boy how we fell in love with this album when it came out. It was like nothing we'd ever heard before. Catchy vocals, uniquely and catchily wrapped around sparse compositions. But then we learned that she was the female half of the band The Fiery Furnaces — a band we'd been aware of, but not familiar with. And so we tuned into some of their albums, and fell in love with them, too, but in the end, we couldn't justify her landing on our Top Twenty list because it was more like a brief and torrid love affair, but one where, once the sex stopped being fun and new, we were just better off as friends. And we'll be friends for a long time.
Joe Henry Reverie
Recorded in a room in his house with all the windows open. So? It makes for a sonic quality that is as dramatic as it is comfortable. Like he's performing it in our own living room.
The Ladybug Transistor Clutching Stems
Vaguely brings back memories of Lloyd Cole and the Commotions. Nuff said, right?
Megafaun (Self titled)
Jaunty indie pop music, jauntily popping just the way we like it.
The Poison Control Center Stranger Ballet
See Megafaun
Portugal. The Man In the Mountain in the Cloud
See The Poison Control Center, except not indie, cuz it's on Atlantic, but still cool cuz they're from Alaska. Alaska!
The Rapture In the Grace of Your Love
At the risk of seeming to be getting lazy, see Army Navy.
St. Vincent Strange Mercy
Just exactly how this missed our Top Twenty list we're not quite sure, and we'll probably look back at this list this time next year and blame it on all the pain meds we're on right now. Edgy, slightly experimental-cum-beautiful music that challenges to grab your attention like a boa constrictor grabs its prey. But, of coure, you don't die.
TV on the Radio Nine Types of Light
Man, these guys are good. Uniquely, boldly, and purposefully going where no one else goes, not because no one else dares to do so, but because they don't know how.
The War on Drugs Slave Ambient
Layers of guitars and vocals that weave in and out of our consciousness like birds of prey coasting on the heat vectors high in the sky on a hot, sunny summer day, dipping, then rising, and dipping again, finally fetching their prey tightly in their tallons.
Yellow Ostrich The Mistress
Contains possibly our favorite song of the year, "Whale." Once it crams itself in your noggin, it stays there, but in a welcome way.
Dengue Fever Cannibal Courtship
Cambodian pop music? We're in. Infectious as it is incomparable.
The Sea and Cake The Moonlight Butterfly
Nothing terribly new from Sam Prekop and his Chicago brethren on their ninth album. Opulent pop meets opulent jazz, all jangly and wonderful. But like most of their music, honorably deserves mention.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Physics
Certain laws are non-negotiable. The man-made ones certainly are negotiable. Murder is illegal for obvious reasons, but it's manifest from a sociocultural dogma, and however inconceivable, could actually be legal, if we, as a society and culture, were so inclined. It is, in fact, negotiable.
Laws of physics, however, are another story. No amount of negotiation will cause gravity to work in the other direction, for the mass of an object not to effect its rate of speed, or for Donald Trump's hair to look OK.
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It is due strictly to these non-conciliatory truths that my head and right shoulder met with a slab of concrete. Concrete is hard. Very hard. Bodies, and the bones within them, are not as hard. And bikes will always yield to cars when the two collide.
And so it is that I sit here at my lovely laptop with a broken collar bone and 5 broken ribs. I am typing with both hands for the first time in six days, but in order to do so, I have to grab my right hand with my left hand and rest it on the keyboard, in just the right place. My right arm does not move on its own very well.
But the important bits of me do, and those that don't, will in time. So all is well.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Mountain time.
I remember when I was a kid, like eight or nine maybe, my grandma had this watch that she sometimes wore on a chain and around her neck. When she did this my grandpa would pronounce that if you asked her the time, whatever time it was would be considered to be from the Mountain Time Zone. Pretty damn funny, I used to (and still do) think. We lived in Iowa back then.Today, in baseball, the Mountain Time Zone is still somewhat of a joke. For starters, Kevin Millar, on MLB Network spoke out about the Rockies' Troy Tulowitzki saying that he's not a superstar because he's never tallied more than 110 RBIs in a season. Yeah. Whatever. Apparently 20+ home runs in six weeks of baseball (dating back to last season) is lame.
I'm pretty sure that if a little-known second basemen who goes about 5-9 and 150 lbs was getting on base at a clip of just under .600 for the Yankees (that's Venezuelan Johathan Herrera I'm referring to), the Baseball Gatekeepers (I'm talking about the ESPNs and Sporting News and MLB.coms and Sports Illustrateds and the like) would be going off the hook bragging about him and proclaiming him to be the next prince of New York.
If Troy Tulowitzki played for the Yankees, Derek Jeter would now be a DH at best, and as close to a foot note as he's ever been in his career.
I would assume that if either the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox were 11-2 after 13 games into their season, there would be a considerable amount of chatter.
It boils down to the fact that, in the baseball lexicon, the Mountain Time Zone is forgotten. Good, I say. Keep it that way, I say. No need to get all up in their faces about how none of the Rockies' starting pitchers have recorded a loss. How the only two losses the team has are in extra-inning games.
You guys over there on the East Coast just keep covering the surprisingly horrible Red Sox and a Yankees team whose starting rotation is already showing signs of cracking. Pay no attention to us over hear in the mountains.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Giant bullet dodger
I was very keen on last night's match-up between the Dodgers and Giants—the first such match-up since the last series ended. The last series started with the bludgeoning of a Giants fan by some dumb ass Dodgers fans in Los Angeles. The bludgeonee, Bryan Stow, is still in a coma. I was concerned that a retaliation of some kind might be in order seeing how last night's game was in San Francisco. I had the game on but was unable to pay more attention to it than a glance here and there so it wasn't until this morning that I learned of some good news.
Both teams held a pre-game ceremony in which there was a moment of silence and after which Giants pitcher Jeremy Affeldt (a former Rockie) took the microphone and talked for a spell about what a great rivalry the Giants' and Dodgers' has been and how it's OK to want your team to beat the other while the game is on, but once over, it's back to peace, love and understanding. I'm paraphrasing, of course, but what I'm not paraphrasing is what happened between fans at AT&T park. To my knowledge there was no retaliatory bullcrap. It was, as I paraphrased, peace, love and understanding.
UPDATE: Just when I thought this thing was mellowing out and cooling down—aside from Bryan Stow's condition, obviously, who's still in a medically-induced coma, and had part of his skull removed to allow for the swelling of his brain—I read what this tool from Pittsburgh has to say. John Steigerwald writes for the Observer Reporter, a paper serving Washington and Greene counties near Pittsburgh. He is obviously fishing for links and clicks because suggesting that it's Bryan's own fault for what happened to him simply because Mr. Snow was wearing a Giants jersey in "enemy" territory is one of the most stupid things I've heard ever. I'm not sure who I'm more appalled by: the thugs who beat up Bryan Stow, or John Steigerwald.
Both teams held a pre-game ceremony in which there was a moment of silence and after which Giants pitcher Jeremy Affeldt (a former Rockie) took the microphone and talked for a spell about what a great rivalry the Giants' and Dodgers' has been and how it's OK to want your team to beat the other while the game is on, but once over, it's back to peace, love and understanding. I'm paraphrasing, of course, but what I'm not paraphrasing is what happened between fans at AT&T park. To my knowledge there was no retaliatory bullcrap. It was, as I paraphrased, peace, love and understanding.
UPDATE: Just when I thought this thing was mellowing out and cooling down—aside from Bryan Stow's condition, obviously, who's still in a medically-induced coma, and had part of his skull removed to allow for the swelling of his brain—I read what this tool from Pittsburgh has to say. John Steigerwald writes for the Observer Reporter, a paper serving Washington and Greene counties near Pittsburgh. He is obviously fishing for links and clicks because suggesting that it's Bryan's own fault for what happened to him simply because Mr. Snow was wearing a Giants jersey in "enemy" territory is one of the most stupid things I've heard ever. I'm not sure who I'm more appalled by: the thugs who beat up Bryan Stow, or John Steigerwald.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Thoughtservations…
I want to get to this first because it cannot be overstated how sadly messed up it is. Last Thursday, at Dodger Stadium, opening day for both the Dodgers and visiting Giants, a Giants fan was beaten to a pulp by a couple thuggish Dodger fans after the game. It is said that he has brain damage and is obviously facing an arduous recovery. It is also said that over 100 people may have witnessed the beating, yet the thugs are still at large. In fact, there is now a $150,000 reward for information leading to their whereabouts.
As baseball rivalries go, this is a good one, dating back to both teams' days in New York, but going to a baseball game should not be a life-threatening event. I don't care how much you love your team, and "hate" your teams' rivals, you don't kick the shit out of someone to prove your team loyalty. I have been heard to say things like "I hate the Yankees" or "I hate the Dodgers" because I always have "hated" those teams. But not hate hate. I don't wish ill will on their fans or players. Hell, I went to a game once at Dodger Stadium, versus the Rockies, and I was wearing my Rockies jersey proud, and I don't recall even a sour glance. But it's unnerving to think one could go to a baseball game wearing the out-of-town colors and get the crap beat out of him.
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Appendix(citis) A: The baseball season is just a week old, but already two guys this year have had their appendixes surgically removed. Matt Holiday and Adam Dunn (who apparently has the healing powers of a wolverine). What is up with that? Add Andres Torres from late last season, and that's three guys in two months of baseball with emergency appendectomies.
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There are two still-winless teams, and their identities are pretty surprising. Boston and Tampa Bay. Say what? Pretty much everyone predicted the Red Sox to win the World Series. And pretty much not quite everybody, but at least a handful of pundits had Tampa Bay finishing right behind them in the AL East. Wanna know who's leading the AL West? Baltimore. Say what?
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For those of you who don't particularly care for baseball because there's not enough contact, Minnesota second baseman Tsuyoshi Nishioka had his fibula busted by Nick Swisher trying to break up a a double play today.
As baseball rivalries go, this is a good one, dating back to both teams' days in New York, but going to a baseball game should not be a life-threatening event. I don't care how much you love your team, and "hate" your teams' rivals, you don't kick the shit out of someone to prove your team loyalty. I have been heard to say things like "I hate the Yankees" or "I hate the Dodgers" because I always have "hated" those teams. But not hate hate. I don't wish ill will on their fans or players. Hell, I went to a game once at Dodger Stadium, versus the Rockies, and I was wearing my Rockies jersey proud, and I don't recall even a sour glance. But it's unnerving to think one could go to a baseball game wearing the out-of-town colors and get the crap beat out of him.
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Appendix(citis) A: The baseball season is just a week old, but already two guys this year have had their appendixes surgically removed. Matt Holiday and Adam Dunn (who apparently has the healing powers of a wolverine). What is up with that? Add Andres Torres from late last season, and that's three guys in two months of baseball with emergency appendectomies.
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There are two still-winless teams, and their identities are pretty surprising. Boston and Tampa Bay. Say what? Pretty much everyone predicted the Red Sox to win the World Series. And pretty much not quite everybody, but at least a handful of pundits had Tampa Bay finishing right behind them in the AL East. Wanna know who's leading the AL West? Baltimore. Say what?
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For those of you who don't particularly care for baseball because there's not enough contact, Minnesota second baseman Tsuyoshi Nishioka had his fibula busted by Nick Swisher trying to break up a a double play today.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Closing Day.
That's what today is. Guess that makes tomorrow Opening Day. Yup. Pretty much. 12 teams get baseball officially started up tomorrow. And I'd be remiss if I didn't weigh in on at least a thing or seven.
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There's a lot of chatter out there about the Red Sox winning it all this year. Easy money is what that is. It's about as good a bet as any in baseball. Last year they were devastated by injuries, and still finished 16 games above .500. This year, if they're pitching staff can stay healthy, they own an an offense that could be scary good.
But that's not where I'm headed. There's another team garnering a fair amount of chatter, too. A team that a lot of people are expecting good things from this year. And I can't say it's not because of a good deal of unintended spin. I'm talking about the Pittsburgh Pirates. They're the owners of a major-sprots-league-best 18 consecutive losing seasons. A handsome number of know-it-alls connected with baseball are suggesting, hinting, alleging (read: definitely not "predicting") that might change this year. I think it's because the Bucs are all decked out with a new manager this year. One who knows a little something about getting a team to the World Series sans expectations. Clint Hurdle did just that with the Rockies in 2007 when they won 21 of they're final 22 regular season games that year, and went on to sweep the first two rounds of the playoffs, only to have their brooms turn against them in the World Series by the Red Sox.
Nothing against Clint Hurdle or the Pirates. If I have a second-favorite team, it's the Pirates. And I like Hurdle a lot, as baseball guys go. But I think that's where some of this misplaced spin is sourced. I don't think the Pirates have a pitching staff worthy of consistent run abatement. Although they do have a good core of hitters. And one of the best center fielders I've seen in Andrew McCutchen.
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I'm really geeked up about the Rockies' chances this year. Like any team that captures a World Series title, they've got to have a bunch of stuff go right for them this year, but they've got more depth right now than I can ever remember. To wit: Their last Spring Training game was actually what they call and Exhibition Game because it was versus their AA affiliate in Tulsa. The Drillers no-hit their Major League elders for eight innings, and won 5-3.
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If I were forced to pick a team to watch out for—a team who, like the Padres last year, stays unexpectedly competitive till the last day of the season—it would probably be the Florida Marlins. Their pitching staff is dominant. And they've got Mike Stanton, who many scouts project 40+ home runs out of this year. If they were in the NL Central, they would almost certainly contend.
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Speaking of the NL Central, what a bummer for the Brewers, who plucked Zack Greinke from the Royals this off-season, only to find out that he will be nursing an injury until early May. Good thing they're in the NL Central. Could be the worst division in the bigs.
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The World Series champs Giants announced their opening day roster today and it features rookie Brandon Belt at first base, for whom they designated Travis Ishikawa for assignment. The guy's so young and inexperienced at this level that I'm pretty sure his Little League team just stopped practicing together a couple months ago. I'm not convinced this was the right move for them. But when you're coming off of a World Series win, you can do no wrong. Maybe that's why so few teams actually repeat the feat the following year.
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I saw some buzz today about how the Rockies installed some new purple lights atop the outside of Coors Field. They look pretty cool. But no one's talking about how they switched those ubiquitous dimpled floor matt-like things at intersections from neon yellow to Rockies purple. Rode my bike by there the other day and crews were replacing them. Brilliant, I thought.
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Lastly, there's not a better time in recent memory for the Rockies to capture the hearts of local sports fans than now. The Broncos and Avalanche stink. And the NFL and NBA (and maybe even the NHL) are facing labor pains (sorry, couldn't resist) that could shut down those sports temporarily. How huge would the Rockies become in the minds of potentially erstwhile Broncos fans if they contend all year, and make a run at the World Series? Pretty darn huge, if you ask me.
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There's a lot of chatter out there about the Red Sox winning it all this year. Easy money is what that is. It's about as good a bet as any in baseball. Last year they were devastated by injuries, and still finished 16 games above .500. This year, if they're pitching staff can stay healthy, they own an an offense that could be scary good.
But that's not where I'm headed. There's another team garnering a fair amount of chatter, too. A team that a lot of people are expecting good things from this year. And I can't say it's not because of a good deal of unintended spin. I'm talking about the Pittsburgh Pirates. They're the owners of a major-sprots-league-best 18 consecutive losing seasons. A handsome number of know-it-alls connected with baseball are suggesting, hinting, alleging (read: definitely not "predicting") that might change this year. I think it's because the Bucs are all decked out with a new manager this year. One who knows a little something about getting a team to the World Series sans expectations. Clint Hurdle did just that with the Rockies in 2007 when they won 21 of they're final 22 regular season games that year, and went on to sweep the first two rounds of the playoffs, only to have their brooms turn against them in the World Series by the Red Sox.
Nothing against Clint Hurdle or the Pirates. If I have a second-favorite team, it's the Pirates. And I like Hurdle a lot, as baseball guys go. But I think that's where some of this misplaced spin is sourced. I don't think the Pirates have a pitching staff worthy of consistent run abatement. Although they do have a good core of hitters. And one of the best center fielders I've seen in Andrew McCutchen.
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I'm really geeked up about the Rockies' chances this year. Like any team that captures a World Series title, they've got to have a bunch of stuff go right for them this year, but they've got more depth right now than I can ever remember. To wit: Their last Spring Training game was actually what they call and Exhibition Game because it was versus their AA affiliate in Tulsa. The Drillers no-hit their Major League elders for eight innings, and won 5-3.
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If I were forced to pick a team to watch out for—a team who, like the Padres last year, stays unexpectedly competitive till the last day of the season—it would probably be the Florida Marlins. Their pitching staff is dominant. And they've got Mike Stanton, who many scouts project 40+ home runs out of this year. If they were in the NL Central, they would almost certainly contend.
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Speaking of the NL Central, what a bummer for the Brewers, who plucked Zack Greinke from the Royals this off-season, only to find out that he will be nursing an injury until early May. Good thing they're in the NL Central. Could be the worst division in the bigs.
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The World Series champs Giants announced their opening day roster today and it features rookie Brandon Belt at first base, for whom they designated Travis Ishikawa for assignment. The guy's so young and inexperienced at this level that I'm pretty sure his Little League team just stopped practicing together a couple months ago. I'm not convinced this was the right move for them. But when you're coming off of a World Series win, you can do no wrong. Maybe that's why so few teams actually repeat the feat the following year.
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I saw some buzz today about how the Rockies installed some new purple lights atop the outside of Coors Field. They look pretty cool. But no one's talking about how they switched those ubiquitous dimpled floor matt-like things at intersections from neon yellow to Rockies purple. Rode my bike by there the other day and crews were replacing them. Brilliant, I thought.
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Lastly, there's not a better time in recent memory for the Rockies to capture the hearts of local sports fans than now. The Broncos and Avalanche stink. And the NFL and NBA (and maybe even the NHL) are facing labor pains (sorry, couldn't resist) that could shut down those sports temporarily. How huge would the Rockies become in the minds of potentially erstwhile Broncos fans if they contend all year, and make a run at the World Series? Pretty darn huge, if you ask me.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Rankings, ranklings, and hankerings.
A couple weeks ago or so I opined about which teams will finish last in each division this year. Let's take a quick look at how my guesses compared to the recently-released predictions of Buster Olney in ESPN: The Magazine. I didn't guess team's records, but The Magazine did, so I'll show those in parenthesis.
AL East:
My pick - Toronto Blue Jays (79-83)
Their pick - Baltimore Orioles (77-85)
The reason I went with the Blue Jays to lose the battle of the birds is vindicated by something The Mag wrote in their synopsis:
Yeah, I didn't go with the idea of "might," but rather "will."
AL Central:
My pick - Kansas City Royals
Their pick - Kansas City Royals (69-93)
I love it when that happens. I have to mention, though, that this could be the last time in a long time the Royals finish last. They have stocked up such a tremendous trove of talent—both through trades, and by great player development—that they could realistically start to contend as soon as next year. And when they do, I expect them to continue to do so for years to come.
AL West:
My pick - Seattle Mariners
Their pick - Seattle Mariners (70-92)
So when do I start getting paid for this stuff?
NL East:
My pick - New York Mets (79-83)
Their pick - Washington Nationals (73-89)
The Mag actually picked the Mets to finish third, above the Marlins and the Nationals. This is just crazy. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Buster Olney. He is one of the most balanced and level-headed baseball guys out there. But what are you thinking, Buster? The Marlins have one of the best—and obviously under-rated—rotations in the game. The Nationals certainly are no threat to make a surprise run at a division title, but they are really pretty average. They have a maybe-a-tick-below OK pitching staff and above average (although not by much) offense, which means to me that they finish just below .500, in my opinion.
The Mets, on the other hand, are one jacked up bunch. They have no ace (or at least not until mid-summer when Johan Santana is expected to return), they just released their second baseman,José Reyes Luis Castillo, to whom they still owe six million dollars, and their ownership group is under constant scrutiny due to their involvement with that rapscallion Bernie Madoff.
In my defense, he has the Mets finishing only six games out of the cellar.
NL Central:
My pick - Houston Astros
Their pick - Houston Astros (69-93)
I would say that I don't mean to brag, if only it were true. Olney says:
Which is exactly what I said. Kind of.
NL West:
My pick - Arizona Diamondbacks
Their pick - Arizona Diamondbacks (73-89)
As my cousin once wrote, "I don't know much, and much of what I do know, I only think I know," but I like how I did against one of baseball's best banterers. Four identical picks, one close one, and one head-scratcher.
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I love it when managers say things on the record that they probably shouldn't really say. Like a couple years ago when White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen said that he pukes every time he goes to Wrigley Field (as they do once a year as part of inter-league play to take on the Chicago Cubs). Welljust yesterday in the April edition of Mens Journal, Orioles manager Buck Showalter (and former Yankees manager, it is worth noting) didn't have anything nice to say about their division foe Yankees, and specifically had this to say about Boston Red Sox' off-season acquisitions:
Ahhhh yes.
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Spring Training is about to give way to the whole raison d'être there's Spring Training in the first place. Major League Baseball's season opens on March 31st featuring six games. The Rockies start the following day, at home, against the Diamondbacks, with me in attendance. That's a week from tomorrow. Already I'm checking the forecast, and it's looking lovely. 70º and sunny. And I'll probably start out with a Maharaja Imperial India Pale Ale on tap from FreshCraft or The Falling Rock Tap House. Not that I'm putting too much thought into it or anything.
AL East:
My pick - Toronto Blue Jays (79-83)
Their pick - Baltimore Orioles (77-85)
The reason I went with the Blue Jays to lose the battle of the birds is vindicated by something The Mag wrote in their synopsis:
The real drama could be at the bottom of the division, where the Orioles—who brought on slick-fielding shortstop J.J. Hardy, 40-home run threat Mark Reynolds and nine-time All-Star Vladimir Guerrero this off-season—might have the goods to snap a 13-year streak of losing seasons, longest in the AL.
Yeah, I didn't go with the idea of "might," but rather "will."
AL Central:
My pick - Kansas City Royals
Their pick - Kansas City Royals (69-93)
I love it when that happens. I have to mention, though, that this could be the last time in a long time the Royals finish last. They have stocked up such a tremendous trove of talent—both through trades, and by great player development—that they could realistically start to contend as soon as next year. And when they do, I expect them to continue to do so for years to come.
AL West:
My pick - Seattle Mariners
Their pick - Seattle Mariners (70-92)
So when do I start getting paid for this stuff?
NL East:
My pick - New York Mets (79-83)
Their pick - Washington Nationals (73-89)
The Mag actually picked the Mets to finish third, above the Marlins and the Nationals. This is just crazy. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Buster Olney. He is one of the most balanced and level-headed baseball guys out there. But what are you thinking, Buster? The Marlins have one of the best—and obviously under-rated—rotations in the game. The Nationals certainly are no threat to make a surprise run at a division title, but they are really pretty average. They have a maybe-a-tick-below OK pitching staff and above average (although not by much) offense, which means to me that they finish just below .500, in my opinion.
The Mets, on the other hand, are one jacked up bunch. They have no ace (or at least not until mid-summer when Johan Santana is expected to return), they just released their second baseman,
In my defense, he has the Mets finishing only six games out of the cellar.
NL Central:
My pick - Houston Astros
Their pick - Houston Astros (69-93)
I would say that I don't mean to brag, if only it were true. Olney says:
The Astros have been teetering on the edge of disaster for years and could finish last for the first time since 1991. That would mean progress for the Pirates.
Which is exactly what I said. Kind of.
NL West:
My pick - Arizona Diamondbacks
Their pick - Arizona Diamondbacks (73-89)
As my cousin once wrote, "I don't know much, and much of what I do know, I only think I know," but I like how I did against one of baseball's best banterers. Four identical picks, one close one, and one head-scratcher.
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I love it when managers say things on the record that they probably shouldn't really say. Like a couple years ago when White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen said that he pukes every time he goes to Wrigley Field (as they do once a year as part of inter-league play to take on the Chicago Cubs). Well
You got Carl Crawford 'cause you paid more than anyone else, and that's what makes you smarter? That's why I like whipping their butt. It's great, knowing those guys with the $205 million payroll are saying, "How the hell are they beating us?"
Ahhhh yes.
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Spring Training is about to give way to the whole raison d'être there's Spring Training in the first place. Major League Baseball's season opens on March 31st featuring six games. The Rockies start the following day, at home, against the Diamondbacks, with me in attendance. That's a week from tomorrow. Already I'm checking the forecast, and it's looking lovely. 70º and sunny. And I'll probably start out with a Maharaja Imperial India Pale Ale on tap from FreshCraft or The Falling Rock Tap House. Not that I'm putting too much thought into it or anything.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Why local is where it's at.
I have this thing about having to go to Home Depot. Just having to think about going there is obtuse. Being there is worse. Because when you get there, the parking lot is a freaking mess. It simply does not matter which of my local Home Depot's I decide to attend, each one is equally maniacal.
And then… you have to go inside.
Oh my god. Why did someone decide to build a shopping mall, and then at the last minute tear down all the interior walls holding up the roof and fill the newly-opened expanse with screws, lumber, paper towels, cement floors, people in orange aprons, dust, and candy bars and call it a Home Depot? Or Lowes? Or Super Walmart? Or to where ever the frick people are fricking flocking these days?
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Perhaps growing up in a small town which featured, quite proudly, a one-square-block-perimiter of retail stores from which one could buy daily wares—like screws, or paper towels, or orange aprons—finessed me into a guy who likes to be coddled when he buys something. Don't get me wrong. I don't need my hand held when I'm shopping. I'm that guy who actually likes to forage for what he's looking for. But when I have a specific need that needs filled, I need it filled by an aficionado, not a clerk.
But I don't think my growing up in said small town had everything to do with it. It's many things, including the fact that I run my own small business—more of a business-to-business business, but still. I know when to—and how to—tell the difference between a store owner who appeals to the masses, and one who digs the community. And it's not to be poo-pooed. I—and by "I" I mean my family—go out of my way to support local business owners. It's a big deal, really. Among the questions I ask myself:
Is there somewhere in our neighborhood we can buy the same thing or service?
Whose pockets do the profits line?
Why is there a scantily-clad mannequin in front of your coffee shop?
Are you a locally-owned bar, and what are the other bars you own?
When is your fine-foods market going to open up shop three blocks from my house?
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Take, for example, the neighborhood liquor store I frequent. I walk in and I am usually greeted, if not by name, by a knowing smile. With a knowing regard for what it is I am hankering. Not unusually by a guy who knows my name. He knows my name because of my guerilla shopping mentality. Because I insist on disregarding the stores whose profits fill the pockets of yonder boys—corporations who probably don't give a shit about you.
Do me a favor. Think, for a second, about where you buy stuff these days. Probably online a lot. Probably at Walmart a lot. Probably at Starbucks a lot. But do you ever think about opportunities about buying stuff like that from proprietors who are also your neighbors? Look, I don't meant to get all ideological on your asses, but think about what you buy, and from whom you buy it, from now on. Why not buy your next steamed mocha half soy venti non-decaf grande latte from your local coffee purveyor? Because it will suck? Highly unlikely. Because it will take longer? It might; it might not. Because you are helping build a more socially verdant community? Yes.
And because it sucks that Home Depot drove so many neighborhood hardware stores out of business because those neighborhood hardware stores employed aficionados. Home Depot employs clerks.
And then… you have to go inside.
Oh my god. Why did someone decide to build a shopping mall, and then at the last minute tear down all the interior walls holding up the roof and fill the newly-opened expanse with screws, lumber, paper towels, cement floors, people in orange aprons, dust, and candy bars and call it a Home Depot? Or Lowes? Or Super Walmart? Or to where ever the frick people are fricking flocking these days?
————————
Perhaps growing up in a small town which featured, quite proudly, a one-square-block-perimiter of retail stores from which one could buy daily wares—like screws, or paper towels, or orange aprons—finessed me into a guy who likes to be coddled when he buys something. Don't get me wrong. I don't need my hand held when I'm shopping. I'm that guy who actually likes to forage for what he's looking for. But when I have a specific need that needs filled, I need it filled by an aficionado, not a clerk.
But I don't think my growing up in said small town had everything to do with it. It's many things, including the fact that I run my own small business—more of a business-to-business business, but still. I know when to—and how to—tell the difference between a store owner who appeals to the masses, and one who digs the community. And it's not to be poo-pooed. I—and by "I" I mean my family—go out of my way to support local business owners. It's a big deal, really. Among the questions I ask myself:
Is there somewhere in our neighborhood we can buy the same thing or service?
Whose pockets do the profits line?
Why is there a scantily-clad mannequin in front of your coffee shop?
Are you a locally-owned bar, and what are the other bars you own?
When is your fine-foods market going to open up shop three blocks from my house?
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Supporting the locally-owned little guys help give your community a personality. This is important to the vitality of your neighborhood. Not just important, but mandatory. "What have we, if we have not a community?" I just made that up to sound like something Ben Franklin, or Thomas Jefferson, or someone really stately and smart would say. Because it's true.
Take, for example, the neighborhood liquor store I frequent. I walk in and I am usually greeted, if not by name, by a knowing smile. With a knowing regard for what it is I am hankering. Not unusually by a guy who knows my name. He knows my name because of my guerilla shopping mentality. Because I insist on disregarding the stores whose profits fill the pockets of yonder boys—corporations who probably don't give a shit about you.
Do me a favor. Think, for a second, about where you buy stuff these days. Probably online a lot. Probably at Walmart a lot. Probably at Starbucks a lot. But do you ever think about opportunities about buying stuff like that from proprietors who are also your neighbors? Look, I don't meant to get all ideological on your asses, but think about what you buy, and from whom you buy it, from now on. Why not buy your next steamed mocha half soy venti non-decaf grande latte from your local coffee purveyor? Because it will suck? Highly unlikely. Because it will take longer? It might; it might not. Because you are helping build a more socially verdant community? Yes.
And because it sucks that Home Depot drove so many neighborhood hardware stores out of business because those neighborhood hardware stores employed aficionados. Home Depot employs clerks.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Some stuff I thought of once. A little while ago. Like, today.
The Rockies had a double-header today at their still-brang-new Spring Training facility in Scottsdale, AZ, which has been Bantered About By One here. I don't have the figures at my fingers (which is to say, I'm too lazy to do the research to find them—which the Banter of One will hereafter refer to as "research") as to what the record is for a double header at their erstwhile Spring Training facility in Tucson, AZ (Hi-Corbett Field), but I would be happy to buy you dinner if you can prove to me that it was greater than today's combined attendance of 23,600.
It seems to me, from research I've gathered, that attendance at most ballparks, in the Cactus League at least, has been baron. But not at Salt River Fields. No siree. Seriously, the Rockies basically pulled off two sellouts in one day. In One Day. Even weekday games at Salt River Fields are faring better than their Cactus League counterparts, according to my research.
Indeed, according to this article, attendance is trending upward in the Cactus League. And I especially like how it doesn't even credit the Rockies in this trend:
"This year, the elevated number of attendees can be attributed primarily to two factors: the Arizona Diamondbacks, who are playing their first season in the Valley after moving their spring-training home from Tucson, and the San Francisco Giants, the 2010 World Series Champions…"
See, the Rockies share Salt River Fields with the Diamondbacks. And the Diamondbacks call Phoenix their regular-season home. I have this sneaking feeling that if the Rockies and their entire slate of Spring Training competition Spring Trained in Denver (provided the weather allowed them to do so), attendance for the Rockies would be sensational. Sensational, and all the synonyms you can come up with for sensational. To wit: During the 2010 regular season, Colorado averaged greater than 10,000 per game more than the Diamondbacks. Even in 2001, the year that the Diamondbacks won the World Series, the Rockies still out-attended them by an average of over 5,000 fans per game. Now that's research backed by some serious research.
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The AppleTV is a really cool gadget. Especially now that its most recent software update allows it to stream to me my MLB.tv subscription. My wife and I took our dog for a long walk in City Park, after which I camped out on the couch and watched the Giants and Dodgers do some Spring Training battle. And then later in the day I kept track of the Rockies and Diamondbacks tilt. All on the 46 inch TV in the living room, as opposed to the computer.
So I've got that going for me.
It seems to me, from research I've gathered, that attendance at most ballparks, in the Cactus League at least, has been baron. But not at Salt River Fields. No siree. Seriously, the Rockies basically pulled off two sellouts in one day. In One Day. Even weekday games at Salt River Fields are faring better than their Cactus League counterparts, according to my research.
Indeed, according to this article, attendance is trending upward in the Cactus League. And I especially like how it doesn't even credit the Rockies in this trend:
"This year, the elevated number of attendees can be attributed primarily to two factors: the Arizona Diamondbacks, who are playing their first season in the Valley after moving their spring-training home from Tucson, and the San Francisco Giants, the 2010 World Series Champions…"
See, the Rockies share Salt River Fields with the Diamondbacks. And the Diamondbacks call Phoenix their regular-season home. I have this sneaking feeling that if the Rockies and their entire slate of Spring Training competition Spring Trained in Denver (provided the weather allowed them to do so), attendance for the Rockies would be sensational. Sensational, and all the synonyms you can come up with for sensational. To wit: During the 2010 regular season, Colorado averaged greater than 10,000 per game more than the Diamondbacks. Even in 2001, the year that the Diamondbacks won the World Series, the Rockies still out-attended them by an average of over 5,000 fans per game. Now that's research backed by some serious research.
————————
The AppleTV is a really cool gadget. Especially now that its most recent software update allows it to stream to me my MLB.tv subscription. My wife and I took our dog for a long walk in City Park, after which I camped out on the couch and watched the Giants and Dodgers do some Spring Training battle. And then later in the day I kept track of the Rockies and Diamondbacks tilt. All on the 46 inch TV in the living room, as opposed to the computer.
So I've got that going for me.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The "Iowa thing" and Baseball vs other sports.
Got really into a college basketball game tonight. Accidentally. I didn't mean to.
Had reason to be at a bar tonight. Not that that's a stretch in and of itself, mind you, but the majority of the people I was there with I had never met. All the while, a local small college basketball team was competing to join the March madness thing I used to follow and still hear about from time-to-time. One of the guys in my group was extra interested because he and his wife were introduced to one another by the guy who happened to be a coach of one of the two teams (The University of Northern Colorado Bears).
My sports-watching background is such that if I get interested in a contest of non-baseball proportions, I still become vested, and yearn to learn who wins and who loses. I get drawn in. For better or for worse. But this game was exciting not just because the guy I was hanging out next to knew a coach, but because the guy I was hanging out next to was also from Iowa.
There's something about people from Iowa. It's not like we had any mutual Iowa friends, or were back-of-the-hand familiar with each other's hometown. In fact, we weren't even the same age. But put a couple strangers at the same table who are obligated to spend a few hours together and have them both be from Iowa, and you've got a recipe for camaraderie. I can't explain it.
It's like those octogenarian WWII or septuagenarian Korean War veterans you see from time-to-time who wear those navy blue hats ordained with ornamental embroidery signifying their time in a certain infantry or battalion or whatever. (I'm not taking for granted veterans, or military personal in general, I just don't have a proclivity to such things and therefore can't quite describe it.) Put two strangers from Iowa in a bar who both know they're going to be in each other's company for a few hours, and suddenly you have two guys who may as well have been in each other's wedding.
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So it was that I found myself watching—and rooting for—the University of Northern Colorado Bears to win a game that would garner them entry into the dance, or show, or whatever they call it. It was a game that was close down to the last half-minute or so. And in the end UNC did indeed earn their first-ever berth to said dance.
But it got me thinking about a subject that has no shortage of dialogue over the decades. About how this game had a gripping sense of urgency about it. Especially as the game got closer to the end. Much in the same way a close football contest might keep a viewer on edge until the clock runs out.
Until the clock runs out. The clock runs out and, sans a tie, the game ends. In baseball, when the clock runs out.... Wait. In baseball, there is no clock. Save for the one that tracks the duration of the game for no other purpose than that of posterity. No, sir. There is no governing clock in baseball. None.
And that's kind of cool, you have to admit. Because baseball games tend to average about two-and-a-half to three hours. Any longer than four, and they makes the news. Like when the Colorado Rockies and San Diego Padres battled for 22 innings, for over six hours, back in April 2008. At the time, it was the longest game since...
The longest-ever game in MLB history was an eight hour-six minute contest between the Chicago White Sox and the Milwaukee Brewers (then of the American League) in 1984 that went 25 innings and was eventually won 7-6 by the Pale Hose.
That's like two-and-a-half games. In one game. Even when other sports go into overtime, or sudden death, they're not likely to extend fifteen minutes beyond regulation.
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So I'm just saying... look how unique baseball is because of this. And don't get me wrong: there is a ton of urgency in a baseball game. The best chance for a team to nudge ahead and stake its claim to victory could just as easily happen in the first inning as the last. Or the 22nd, for that matter.
I mean, it's cool the Bears are in the Dance and all, and I hope they fare well as a 16th seed, and at least don't get blown out—and maybe even pull off an upset. But regardless. If you watch, you will no doubt—and uncontrollably—have your eye on the game clock. And while you're doing that, every once in a while, think about how baseball has no game clock whatsoever.
Had reason to be at a bar tonight. Not that that's a stretch in and of itself, mind you, but the majority of the people I was there with I had never met. All the while, a local small college basketball team was competing to join the March madness thing I used to follow and still hear about from time-to-time. One of the guys in my group was extra interested because he and his wife were introduced to one another by the guy who happened to be a coach of one of the two teams (The University of Northern Colorado Bears).
My sports-watching background is such that if I get interested in a contest of non-baseball proportions, I still become vested, and yearn to learn who wins and who loses. I get drawn in. For better or for worse. But this game was exciting not just because the guy I was hanging out next to knew a coach, but because the guy I was hanging out next to was also from Iowa.
There's something about people from Iowa. It's not like we had any mutual Iowa friends, or were back-of-the-hand familiar with each other's hometown. In fact, we weren't even the same age. But put a couple strangers at the same table who are obligated to spend a few hours together and have them both be from Iowa, and you've got a recipe for camaraderie. I can't explain it.
It's like those octogenarian WWII or septuagenarian Korean War veterans you see from time-to-time who wear those navy blue hats ordained with ornamental embroidery signifying their time in a certain infantry or battalion or whatever. (I'm not taking for granted veterans, or military personal in general, I just don't have a proclivity to such things and therefore can't quite describe it.) Put two strangers from Iowa in a bar who both know they're going to be in each other's company for a few hours, and suddenly you have two guys who may as well have been in each other's wedding.
————————
So it was that I found myself watching—and rooting for—the University of Northern Colorado Bears to win a game that would garner them entry into the dance, or show, or whatever they call it. It was a game that was close down to the last half-minute or so. And in the end UNC did indeed earn their first-ever berth to said dance.
But it got me thinking about a subject that has no shortage of dialogue over the decades. About how this game had a gripping sense of urgency about it. Especially as the game got closer to the end. Much in the same way a close football contest might keep a viewer on edge until the clock runs out.
Until the clock runs out. The clock runs out and, sans a tie, the game ends. In baseball, when the clock runs out.... Wait. In baseball, there is no clock. Save for the one that tracks the duration of the game for no other purpose than that of posterity. No, sir. There is no governing clock in baseball. None.
And that's kind of cool, you have to admit. Because baseball games tend to average about two-and-a-half to three hours. Any longer than four, and they makes the news. Like when the Colorado Rockies and San Diego Padres battled for 22 innings, for over six hours, back in April 2008. At the time, it was the longest game since...
The longest-ever game in MLB history was an eight hour-six minute contest between the Chicago White Sox and the Milwaukee Brewers (then of the American League) in 1984 that went 25 innings and was eventually won 7-6 by the Pale Hose.
That's like two-and-a-half games. In one game. Even when other sports go into overtime, or sudden death, they're not likely to extend fifteen minutes beyond regulation.
————————
So I'm just saying... look how unique baseball is because of this. And don't get me wrong: there is a ton of urgency in a baseball game. The best chance for a team to nudge ahead and stake its claim to victory could just as easily happen in the first inning as the last. Or the 22nd, for that matter.
I mean, it's cool the Bears are in the Dance and all, and I hope they fare well as a 16th seed, and at least don't get blown out—and maybe even pull off an upset. But regardless. If you watch, you will no doubt—and uncontrollably—have your eye on the game clock. And while you're doing that, every once in a while, think about how baseball has no game clock whatsoever.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
What's wrong with the Phillies.
The Philadelphia Phillies probably made the biggest news this offseason with the surprise signing of left hander Cliff Lee. He joins a rotation of 19 other aces. OK, maybe not 19. But two or three, for sure, in Roy Halladay, Cole Hamels, and Roy Oswalt. Joe Blanton rounds out a rotation that is mighty, make no doubt about that.
Their offense, however, is not mighty. It's not mighty because it features no one who bats righty. Not true, but it sure rhymed nicely. And it's not too far off the mark. The Phillies lost their best right handed bat (Jayson Werth) to free agency, and now have maybe three in the lineup, counting the switch hitting Shane Victorino and Jimmy Rollins. The guys who batted the Phillies to the playoffs in 07, and the World Series in the two subsequent years—sluggers like Ryan Howard, Jimmy Rollins, and Chase Utley—just ain't bringing it like they used to. Every Phillie fan to this day has the look on Howard's face when he struck out looking to end the 2010 NLCS etched in their memory, and if they tell you otherwise, they're lying.
Point is, the Fightin's don't hit like they used to. For the worse. But they don't pitch like they used to, either. For the better. And they say pitching is what wins baseball games. However, because they lack offense I see them losing low scoring games more than they'd like. And getting beat in the late innings more than they'd like. And if closer Brad Lidge struggles like he's been known to, watch out.
Nope. I don't see a division title being the lock the flock of Phils fans figure it will.
Their offense, however, is not mighty. It's not mighty because it features no one who bats righty. Not true, but it sure rhymed nicely. And it's not too far off the mark. The Phillies lost their best right handed bat (Jayson Werth) to free agency, and now have maybe three in the lineup, counting the switch hitting Shane Victorino and Jimmy Rollins. The guys who batted the Phillies to the playoffs in 07, and the World Series in the two subsequent years—sluggers like Ryan Howard, Jimmy Rollins, and Chase Utley—just ain't bringing it like they used to. Every Phillie fan to this day has the look on Howard's face when he struck out looking to end the 2010 NLCS etched in their memory, and if they tell you otherwise, they're lying.
Point is, the Fightin's don't hit like they used to. For the worse. But they don't pitch like they used to, either. For the better. And they say pitching is what wins baseball games. However, because they lack offense I see them losing low scoring games more than they'd like. And getting beat in the late innings more than they'd like. And if closer Brad Lidge struggles like he's been known to, watch out.
Nope. I don't see a division title being the lock the flock of Phils fans figure it will.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My predictions for each division's cellar dwellers.
It's not that I wallow in underachievement. And I certainly don't get off on other folks' misfortunes. But I was thinking today about predictions. About how all the big timers will put forward their carefully culled predictions for each division's finishers, from top to bottom. Most will jibe with the others, save for a couple disagreements here and there. And they will be close, generally, when the year ends, in their predictions. Because they have the capacity to send minions of reporters to each team's Spring Training facility—to Arizona, and Florida, and then back to Arizona, followed by one last stint in Florida—to do their highly calculated research—in person, most importantly—about which player may improve, recede, surprise, astonish, frustrate, etc.
But this nascent blog does not possess such fortitude. No, this blog has to go on good, old-fashioned guts. As in, gut feelings. And so it is with those feelings of the gut that I put forth my predictions of who will end up at the bottom of the rung. Yeah, it's a bit of a cop out. But it's still a prediction. And until The Banter of One can afford to send minions back and forth between Florida and Arizona, and forth and back, this is what we have to work with.
We shall start with the American League (I, for as long as I can remember, have liked to save the best for last).
AL East (See what I did there?): This one's gonna come down to two teams: Baltimore and Toronto. Bittersweet, too, because both are good. This is, hands down, the most miserable division in all of baseball, from a parity standpoint. That is simply not debatable. This is a division in which, last year, the fourth (fourth) place team finished eight games above .500. I don't see that changing in 2011(well, maybe the number of games above or below .500 will, but you know what I mean). But I do see the dweller at the bottom changing. Last year it was Baltimore. This year, it will be Toronto. In recent years, Toronto has had no problem scoring runs, but Baltimore won't this year, either, with the addition of Vladimir Guerrero, Derek Lee, and Mark Reynolds. Sure, the Jays still have last year's AL home run champion in Jose Bautista, but I don't see that being enough.
Dweller of the Bottom: Toronto Blue Jays
AL Central: This is a tough division to predict, too. Zack Greinke has left KC for Milwaukee and the more pitcher-friendly national league, but yet it's still a two horse race between Cleveland and the Royals. And it's closer than beans and corn bread. I'm having a tough time getting my hands around whose offense is worse, or whose rotation is worse. In other words: neither is very good. But I think it's gonna be the Royals who get the nod. They just don't have enough of either. And Cleveland has some guys who can mash. Like Shin-Soo Choo. And if Carlos Santana remains healthy and stays on the vaunted baseball trajectory he's been projected to ride, guy's gonna hit. And then there's the Grady Sizemore situation. He swears he's coming back to his old form this year. So it is that I go with the Royals to end up at the bottom.
Dweller of the Bottom: Kansas City Royals
But this nascent blog does not possess such fortitude. No, this blog has to go on good, old-fashioned guts. As in, gut feelings. And so it is with those feelings of the gut that I put forth my predictions of who will end up at the bottom of the rung. Yeah, it's a bit of a cop out. But it's still a prediction. And until The Banter of One can afford to send minions back and forth between Florida and Arizona, and forth and back, this is what we have to work with.
We shall start with the American League (I, for as long as I can remember, have liked to save the best for last).
AL East (See what I did there?): This one's gonna come down to two teams: Baltimore and Toronto. Bittersweet, too, because both are good. This is, hands down, the most miserable division in all of baseball, from a parity standpoint. That is simply not debatable. This is a division in which, last year, the fourth (fourth) place team finished eight games above .500. I don't see that changing in 2011(well, maybe the number of games above or below .500 will, but you know what I mean). But I do see the dweller at the bottom changing. Last year it was Baltimore. This year, it will be Toronto. In recent years, Toronto has had no problem scoring runs, but Baltimore won't this year, either, with the addition of Vladimir Guerrero, Derek Lee, and Mark Reynolds. Sure, the Jays still have last year's AL home run champion in Jose Bautista, but I don't see that being enough.
Dweller of the Bottom: Toronto Blue Jays
AL Central: This is a tough division to predict, too. Zack Greinke has left KC for Milwaukee and the more pitcher-friendly national league, but yet it's still a two horse race between Cleveland and the Royals. And it's closer than beans and corn bread. I'm having a tough time getting my hands around whose offense is worse, or whose rotation is worse. In other words: neither is very good. But I think it's gonna be the Royals who get the nod. They just don't have enough of either. And Cleveland has some guys who can mash. Like Shin-Soo Choo. And if Carlos Santana remains healthy and stays on the vaunted baseball trajectory he's been projected to ride, guy's gonna hit. And then there's the Grady Sizemore situation. He swears he's coming back to his old form this year. So it is that I go with the Royals to end up at the bottom.
Dweller of the Bottom: Kansas City Royals
AL West: This one's gonna come back and bite me, I worry. Cuz it just feels so easy. It's gonna be the Mariners. I don't see any way around it. The Angels aren't much better than they were last year because of a net subtraction during the offseason (Hello. My name is Vernon Wells.). But they didn't suck last year. They didn't compete like everyone thought they would, but they didn't suck. The A's are way better because of a great young pitching staff, and a guy nicknamed Godzilla. And the Rangers went to the World Series last year. So I'm going with the Mariners, but I really worry about the Los Angeles Angels. Partly because the reigning Cy Young winner still plays for the Mariners and I'm pretty sure he gets better run support than he did last year.
Dweller of the Bottom: Seattle Mariners
NL East: I don't see how we keep the Mets out of the cellar this year. The imbroglio surrounding their ownership situation, not to mention their lack of starting pitching and offense, really hamstrings them. I don't even know what else to say. I guess Washington could pose somewhat of a threat, but that's patently unlikely.
Dweller of the Bottom: New York Metropolitans
NL Central: It is with great pleasure that I predict that the Pirates do NOT finish last in the division. Nope. Houston has its own ownership issues to deal with this year (though they pale in comparison to the Mets and Dodgers), and really are dilapidated, both on the mound and at the plate. Plus, their projected starting catcher, just today, was likely lost for the season.
Dweller of the Bottom: Houston Astros
NL West: Similar to the West in the AL, I'm worried here. The obvious choice is Arizona. They're fortified offensively, no doubt, by subtraction. They lead the league in strike outs last year, and the culprits have gone to other pastures. But no pasture is without manure. And the manure in this lineup is inconsistency. Same with the pitching corps. New manager Kirk Gibson is super psyched about new closer JJ Putz, but my question is, what is the advantage of having a great closer if you never have the lead going into the ninth? But hold on. I'm not sure the Padres won't challenge the DBacks. They lost a starting pitcher. But more importantly, they lost one of the best left-handed hitters in the business in Adrian Gonzalez. So there's no one to protect in their lineup. That gives opposing pitchers more leverage and latitude. Plus, last year's surprise ace, Mat Latos, kind of nose-dived at the end. I just don't see it being a great year for them. But I reckon it won't be that bad.
Dweller of the Bottom: Arizona Diamondbacks
Just you watch, I'll probably strike out on every count. Yeah, that pun was intended. But what if I hit a home run? Can't say I won't say I told ya so.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Some baseball thoughts I need to get off my chest.
Spring Training is underway, but it's barely a week old. I've already learned to pace myself. Make no mistake, though, I'm in the best shape of my life, and I'm willing to do whatever I need to do to help my team. To that end, here are some fragments of my noggin's contents:
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Talking to my dad yesterday, I said something like, "Well, you know baseball has started because the Cubs are fighting in their dugout." That got a good laugh out of him. But I wasn't really trying to be funny. Well, probably I was, but still.
In a game against the Brewers this week, Cubs pitcher Carlos Silva got scorched for six runs, many of them unearned due to three errors—just three of the fourteen errors the Cubs had committed through their first four games. Apparently he said something in the dugout, mostly to himself, about the lack of quality defense, but it was overheard by third baseman Aramis Ramirez, who himself committed one of the three miscues. A rhubarb ensued and the two had to be separated by coaches, and Silva was escorted to the locker room.
Aramis Ramirez, on the scuffle, in The Chicago Tribune, said that it's a long season and you're going to have ups and downs. That it happens everywhere. Hey, 'Rami. It happened during the fourth game of Spring Training. Fourth! Of Spring Training! When these things happen, they're typically in the heat of the dog days of summer. Oh, and one more thing. They don't happen everywhere. Mostly just with the Cubs.
And then Cubs manager Mike Quade said "Everything has gone kind of good, except for the obvious mistakes in the games." Aside from the fact that he goes on to use the word "donnybrook"—for which he gets high praise from me—what in the hell is this guy talking about? "Kind of good?" What is kind of good? Doesn't that mean bad? Certainly not good. Good is good, kind of good is, well, bad, in my opinion. Bet the Cubs faithful are really feeling good that Quade got hired as manager during the offseason, squarely pissing off fan favorite, Hall of Famer, and erstwhile Cub Ryne Sandberg when the Cubs decided not to bequeeth him the keys to the clubhouse.
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Freak injuries and baseball have been good friends for decades, so this is nothing new, but it is funny. Baltimore Oriole left-hander Brian Matusz is missing a start because of a wart that had to be removed from his throwing hand. It had to be removed because his attempt to treat it himself during the offseason did not work.
Now look, there's nothing funny about warts, and the above paragraph is decidedly not funny in and of itself. But when I go to ESPN's baseball home page and one of the headlines reads "Orioles' Matusz (wart) could miss spring start," I can't help but laugh.
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Tough break for ex-Rockies manager and new Pirates skipper Clint Hurdle. His best left handed reliever Joe Beimel (also a former Rockie) is out til who-knows-when with a shoulder or arm issue that is proving tough to diagnose, or at least to MRI.
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Rockies manager Jim Tracy the other day, while talking about closer Huston Street, who is trying to get his sinker dialed back in after he struggled with it—his "out" pitch—last year, said to The Denver Post "...he's an artist. You have to give an artist a little bit of time and make sure all the bristles on his brush are right where they need to be."
Not too many managers get quite so creatively descriptive.
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That's it for now. Keep an eye out for my division-by-division predictions. For last place. Yup. Just decided today that I'm gonna do a season-preview post unlike any other.
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Talking to my dad yesterday, I said something like, "Well, you know baseball has started because the Cubs are fighting in their dugout." That got a good laugh out of him. But I wasn't really trying to be funny. Well, probably I was, but still.
In a game against the Brewers this week, Cubs pitcher Carlos Silva got scorched for six runs, many of them unearned due to three errors—just three of the fourteen errors the Cubs had committed through their first four games. Apparently he said something in the dugout, mostly to himself, about the lack of quality defense, but it was overheard by third baseman Aramis Ramirez, who himself committed one of the three miscues. A rhubarb ensued and the two had to be separated by coaches, and Silva was escorted to the locker room.
Aramis Ramirez, on the scuffle, in The Chicago Tribune, said that it's a long season and you're going to have ups and downs. That it happens everywhere. Hey, 'Rami. It happened during the fourth game of Spring Training. Fourth! Of Spring Training! When these things happen, they're typically in the heat of the dog days of summer. Oh, and one more thing. They don't happen everywhere. Mostly just with the Cubs.
And then Cubs manager Mike Quade said "Everything has gone kind of good, except for the obvious mistakes in the games." Aside from the fact that he goes on to use the word "donnybrook"—for which he gets high praise from me—what in the hell is this guy talking about? "Kind of good?" What is kind of good? Doesn't that mean bad? Certainly not good. Good is good, kind of good is, well, bad, in my opinion. Bet the Cubs faithful are really feeling good that Quade got hired as manager during the offseason, squarely pissing off fan favorite, Hall of Famer, and erstwhile Cub Ryne Sandberg when the Cubs decided not to bequeeth him the keys to the clubhouse.
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Freak injuries and baseball have been good friends for decades, so this is nothing new, but it is funny. Baltimore Oriole left-hander Brian Matusz is missing a start because of a wart that had to be removed from his throwing hand. It had to be removed because his attempt to treat it himself during the offseason did not work.
Now look, there's nothing funny about warts, and the above paragraph is decidedly not funny in and of itself. But when I go to ESPN's baseball home page and one of the headlines reads "Orioles' Matusz (wart) could miss spring start," I can't help but laugh.
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Tough break for ex-Rockies manager and new Pirates skipper Clint Hurdle. His best left handed reliever Joe Beimel (also a former Rockie) is out til who-knows-when with a shoulder or arm issue that is proving tough to diagnose, or at least to MRI.
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Rockies manager Jim Tracy the other day, while talking about closer Huston Street, who is trying to get his sinker dialed back in after he struggled with it—his "out" pitch—last year, said to The Denver Post "...he's an artist. You have to give an artist a little bit of time and make sure all the bristles on his brush are right where they need to be."
Not too many managers get quite so creatively descriptive.
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That's it for now. Keep an eye out for my division-by-division predictions. For last place. Yup. Just decided today that I'm gonna do a season-preview post unlike any other.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Black outs. And I'm not even drunk.
The Durlam family is now in its second year of having cut the cable cable. Well, technically, we cut the satellite cable. In other words, with the exception of baseball, there was nothing that we were watching regularly on TV that couldn't be had, we felt, via Netflix Streaming, Hulu, iTunes (purchase or rental), or the like, so we decided to try an experiment. We decided to ditch DirecTV and get our "TV" from the ditches of the internet superhighway.
We knew not everything we wanted to watch would be free, but we believed that over the course of a year, we would spend less than we did with DirecTV. As it turned out, we did. In fact, I kept a spreadsheet of all of our TV show / movie purchases, plus music and iPod Touch apps. The bottom line after a year was a little less than what we spent on DirecTV the year prior. So we basically got our music for free and iApps gratis.
We knew not everything we wanted to watch would be free, but we believed that over the course of a year, we would spend less than we did with DirecTV. As it turned out, we did. In fact, I kept a spreadsheet of all of our TV show / movie purchases, plus music and iPod Touch apps. The bottom line after a year was a little less than what we spent on DirecTV the year prior. So we basically got our music for free and iApps gratis.
Another reason it was easy to butcher the tether: generally speaking, I think that TV's pretty much a time suck. Yeah, there are several shows I've seen over the last few years that I'm genuinely glad I saw (Six Feet Under, Lost, Better off Ted, Pushing Daisies, The Riches, the first couple seasons of Chuck). But the idea of sitting in front of a TV, turning it on, and scanning through channels just to see what's on sounds about as fruitful as playing solitaire with a deck of 51 cards.
So we now plan our viewing more proactively. We watch what we truly want to watch, or we don't watch anything. In fact, both my wife and I have read far more books in the last year than ever before. Hell, the fact that I've even started this blog could be partially credited to the increased reading I've been doing as reading is a more thought provoking use of time.
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Anyway, all that is not really my point. If you're curious what we've done right during this transition, and what we've done wrong, leave a comment—I'd be happy to share.
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My concern is, of course, baseball. Specifically, MLB.com's $100.00 ($120.00 for "Premium") internet-only-viewing package one can purchase to watch, EVERYWHERE!, any and every baseball game being played at any given time (mlb.tv). Except for one that is being played by a team in your "local market," even if that team is playing on the road, and therefore not in its local market. I live in Denver, Colorado. My local market includes the Colorado Rockies. That's my team. The team whose games I really like to watch. But the blackout restrictions prevent me from doing that, unless I am out of town.
But at least I don't live in the midwest (anymore). There are 30 teams in Major League Baseball. If I lived in my hometown of Jefferson, Iowa, I would be unable to watch games involving the Cubs, the White Sox, Milwaukee, St. Louis, Kansas City, or the Twins. If none of those teams were playing each other on a given day, that would exclude me from watching six games involving twelve teams. Nearly half of MLB would be off limits to me.
Finally, I get to that which I've set out to rail. The Blackout. I understand a home sporting event not being televised in a local market if enough tickets haven't been sold. The team wants people in the seats, and I get that. But nearly all of the Rockies games (not just home games) are televised on FSN Rocky Mountain (soon to become ROOT Sports) or ESPN or FOX, whether they sell enough seats or not. Now, I do have an antenna hooked up to my TV, so I could watch a Rockies game televised on FOX, but I am unable (unwilling might be a better term, I suppose) to watch ROOT Sports or ESPN (ESPN3 notwithstanding).
Why doesn't MLB.tv offer a non-blackout package? As far as I can tell, the reason for the MLB to black me out from viewing a Rockies game is that ROOT Sports makes them. Because ROOT wants me to watch it traditionally. And I just do not get that. Why can't they offer their feed to MLB.tv just like they do to Comcast, DISH, DirectTV, Cox, and others? Let me watch it on my computer, but make me watch the commercials. I won't mind. You might think me crazy, but in our new set-up, I don't see many commercials, and I actually kind of miss them. Well, some of them, anyway.
When I watch a game that I'm allowed to watch on MLB.tv, and it goes to commercial break, nine times out of ten I get a generic screen with an MLB.tv logo and the text: Commercial Break in Progress. Are you kidding me? The sponsors who advertise during Rockies games are now missing me entirely. Yeah, I know they probably don't care about one guy, but more and more people are starting to get their video this way, so it would behoove them to start worrying about it.
Finally, I get to that which I've set out to rail. The Blackout. I understand a home sporting event not being televised in a local market if enough tickets haven't been sold. The team wants people in the seats, and I get that. But nearly all of the Rockies games (not just home games) are televised on FSN Rocky Mountain (soon to become ROOT Sports) or ESPN or FOX, whether they sell enough seats or not. Now, I do have an antenna hooked up to my TV, so I could watch a Rockies game televised on FOX, but I am unable (unwilling might be a better term, I suppose) to watch ROOT Sports or ESPN (ESPN3 notwithstanding).
Why doesn't MLB.tv offer a non-blackout package? As far as I can tell, the reason for the MLB to black me out from viewing a Rockies game is that ROOT Sports makes them. Because ROOT wants me to watch it traditionally. And I just do not get that. Why can't they offer their feed to MLB.tv just like they do to Comcast, DISH, DirectTV, Cox, and others? Let me watch it on my computer, but make me watch the commercials. I won't mind. You might think me crazy, but in our new set-up, I don't see many commercials, and I actually kind of miss them. Well, some of them, anyway.
When I watch a game that I'm allowed to watch on MLB.tv, and it goes to commercial break, nine times out of ten I get a generic screen with an MLB.tv logo and the text: Commercial Break in Progress. Are you kidding me? The sponsors who advertise during Rockies games are now missing me entirely. Yeah, I know they probably don't care about one guy, but more and more people are starting to get their video this way, so it would behoove them to start worrying about it.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Is it Opening Day yet?
Yesterday was Opening Day.
For Spring Training.
But it felt different than usual. Like it was the real opening day, almost.
I said almost.
I know why. It's because the Rockies new Spring Training facility—Salt River Fields at Talking Stick—opened up with a calculated amount of circumstance, and some pomp thrown in for good measure. It's a beautiful park (these are my pictures from when I got to tour the facility at the tail end of the Rockies Fantasy Camp). In fact, it's so renowned already, that before yesterday's first-ever game at the park, to announce Joe Torre's appointment to the position of Major League Baseball's Executive Vice President of Baseball Operations, MLB comish Bud Selig dragged his dogs and ponies down to its beautifully coiffed diamond to make the announcement official.
Then, over at The Denver Post online, there are four articles directly relating to Opening Day in their All Things Rockies blog, and two articles on the main DP Rockies page. Again, some of that is predicated by the opening of the new ballpark, but it just feels like it's such a big deal—much bigger than any past Spring Training Opening Day. I'm not complaining, though. Just observing.
And finally, it could also have something to do with the fact that there's this palpable feeling, if you're a Rockies fan, that this is gonna be a special year. I know, I shouldn't write about it. Could jinx it. Suffice it to say that expectations are gargantuan. Anything less than a division title would be a disappointment.
But we've got a ways to go before any of that's figured out. Seven months, to be exact. Yeah, so I got that going for me.
For Spring Training.
I said almost.
I know why. It's because the Rockies new Spring Training facility—Salt River Fields at Talking Stick—opened up with a calculated amount of circumstance, and some pomp thrown in for good measure. It's a beautiful park (these are my pictures from when I got to tour the facility at the tail end of the Rockies Fantasy Camp). In fact, it's so renowned already, that before yesterday's first-ever game at the park, to announce Joe Torre's appointment to the position of Major League Baseball's Executive Vice President of Baseball Operations, MLB comish Bud Selig dragged his dogs and ponies down to its beautifully coiffed diamond to make the announcement official.
Then, over at The Denver Post online, there are four articles directly relating to Opening Day in their All Things Rockies blog, and two articles on the main DP Rockies page. Again, some of that is predicated by the opening of the new ballpark, but it just feels like it's such a big deal—much bigger than any past Spring Training Opening Day. I'm not complaining, though. Just observing.
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| An entrance into the Rockies new Spring Training facility. |
But we've got a ways to go before any of that's figured out. Seven months, to be exact. Yeah, so I got that going for me.
Friday, February 25, 2011
My view of reviews.
As mentioned in my last post, I plan to comment on why I think music reviews are lame, for the most part. I still am might, but today I've gathered you all here to learn about what kinds of reviews can be trusted and which ones just can't. And it's really not the fault of the reviewer.
When I buy something online—something tangible—like from Amazon or Buy.com or Apple or REI—like a toaster, or a USB cable, or a pair of shorts—I tend to read the user reviews, and tend to trust them. I mean, if a dude reviews some gloves I'm thinking of buying for cold-weather bicycle commuting, and he notes that his fingers always get cold, you can be sure I would look for a different option.
But when it comes to something that is consumed and enjoyed by a matter of opinion, reviews become worthless. I freaking love the movie Ishtar. Seriously. It was a dud at the box office. And most reviews will pan the darn thing. But mine wouldn't. Mine would make it sound like the funniest damn movie to ever be set in a desert, near a desert, around a desert, or in spite of a desert. It is funny as hell, stupid as hell, and clever as hell. And outstanding as hell. But it is, and shall always be, the failed toaster oven of movies.
There's an album called The Best Little Secrets are Kept by a San Diego band called Louis XIV. It came out in 2005. I love it. There's guitars, and drums, and sexually-charged lyrics. It's rock and roll. There's nothing—not one thing—groundbreaking about it. But it sure as hell is a fun album to listen to when I'm in the mood for something to get my hands and arms air-drummin and air-guitarin. But those know-it-alls over at Pitchfork gave the damn thing a 1.5 out of 10. (Yeah, 10's the best.)
So here's my deal: one million people could hate a certain movie, but if I saw it and loved it, then what do I care what those one million people think? But when seven people review those gloves I was thinking about buying, and five of them say that their fingers go numb when they use said gloves, then I'd be stupid to buy them.
I'm still gonna dive into my diatribe on record reviews, but I've got some research I need to do, and I'm not sure when I'm gonna have it all compiled. Because of all that research. And because…
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Because there's baseball to be had. Sweet, succulent, juicy baseball. Tomorrow, the Rockie's first Spring Training game gets underway just around one. And it will be broadcast over the thingie-be-widget I call the internet. I'm especially psyched about that because we Durlams choose to get our video—the content which you undoubtedly refer to as TV—from that afore-mentioned cloudish substance. And my provider of baseball—MLB.tv—has found it in their typically frigid heart to not blackout any Spring Training games. Someday, when I'm full of mirth and gaiety, they won't blackout any regular season games, either. About which, faithful readers, you will learn more in the future. (That's just a thinly-veiled attempt to get you to keep checking back here at The Banter of One headquarters.)
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And there's also my wife. Who, today, had delivered, by a guy who comes to my house almost every day, a book inside which contained a personal message that brought a tear to my eye because of its earnestness. It was a stop-you-in-your-path kind of moment. One of those moments that reminds you how you got here and what you're still doing here—and why there could be no other here. And the book's gonna be awesome, too.
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So I got that going for me.
When I buy something online—something tangible—like from Amazon or Buy.com or Apple or REI—like a toaster, or a USB cable, or a pair of shorts—I tend to read the user reviews, and tend to trust them. I mean, if a dude reviews some gloves I'm thinking of buying for cold-weather bicycle commuting, and he notes that his fingers always get cold, you can be sure I would look for a different option.
But when it comes to something that is consumed and enjoyed by a matter of opinion, reviews become worthless. I freaking love the movie Ishtar. Seriously. It was a dud at the box office. And most reviews will pan the darn thing. But mine wouldn't. Mine would make it sound like the funniest damn movie to ever be set in a desert, near a desert, around a desert, or in spite of a desert. It is funny as hell, stupid as hell, and clever as hell. And outstanding as hell. But it is, and shall always be, the failed toaster oven of movies.
There's an album called The Best Little Secrets are Kept by a San Diego band called Louis XIV. It came out in 2005. I love it. There's guitars, and drums, and sexually-charged lyrics. It's rock and roll. There's nothing—not one thing—groundbreaking about it. But it sure as hell is a fun album to listen to when I'm in the mood for something to get my hands and arms air-drummin and air-guitarin. But those know-it-alls over at Pitchfork gave the damn thing a 1.5 out of 10. (Yeah, 10's the best.)
So here's my deal: one million people could hate a certain movie, but if I saw it and loved it, then what do I care what those one million people think? But when seven people review those gloves I was thinking about buying, and five of them say that their fingers go numb when they use said gloves, then I'd be stupid to buy them.
I'm still gonna dive into my diatribe on record reviews, but I've got some research I need to do, and I'm not sure when I'm gonna have it all compiled. Because of all that research. And because…
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Because there's baseball to be had. Sweet, succulent, juicy baseball. Tomorrow, the Rockie's first Spring Training game gets underway just around one. And it will be broadcast over the thingie-be-widget I call the internet. I'm especially psyched about that because we Durlams choose to get our video—the content which you undoubtedly refer to as TV—from that afore-mentioned cloudish substance. And my provider of baseball—MLB.tv—has found it in their typically frigid heart to not blackout any Spring Training games. Someday, when I'm full of mirth and gaiety, they won't blackout any regular season games, either. About which, faithful readers, you will learn more in the future. (That's just a thinly-veiled attempt to get you to keep checking back here at The Banter of One headquarters.)
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And there's also my wife. Who, today, had delivered, by a guy who comes to my house almost every day, a book inside which contained a personal message that brought a tear to my eye because of its earnestness. It was a stop-you-in-your-path kind of moment. One of those moments that reminds you how you got here and what you're still doing here—and why there could be no other here. And the book's gonna be awesome, too.
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So I got that going for me.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Some freeform thoughts, for reconnoiter purposes.
I'm not much of a basketball fan anymore, but I heard there was a pretty prominent Denver sports figure who got traded today. Some Carmelo Anthony guy. If you only read one article that breaks it down, make sure it's the one by the guys over at the blog called The 701 Level. Shep and Gil break it down for you like no one else. I'd quote a line or two for you, but there's nothing I can take from their post that works right once it's out of context. You'll just have to go check it out for yourself.
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I'm gonna post a blog here right soon about why I think most record reviews are crap. I went to see the Dum Dum Girls last night at the Hi-Dive with a buddy of mine who finds it in his heart to go out and take photographs of area concerts for The Denver Post. While he and I were chatting, the conversation strayed over to music reviews and I told him that I thought most of the record reviews I've ever read are really just a heaping jumble of dorky and meaningless analogies that give the reader no idea of what the record actually sounds like. So, yeah. Stay tuned for more on that.
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I'm gonna post a blog here right soon about why I think most record reviews are crap. I went to see the Dum Dum Girls last night at the Hi-Dive with a buddy of mine who finds it in his heart to go out and take photographs of area concerts for The Denver Post. While he and I were chatting, the conversation strayed over to music reviews and I told him that I thought most of the record reviews I've ever read are really just a heaping jumble of dorky and meaningless analogies that give the reader no idea of what the record actually sounds like. So, yeah. Stay tuned for more on that.
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Spring Training got up and running for certain this week. So we've got that going for us. Last month, when I was busy getting my teeth bashed in by a baseball, I was lucky enough to get an in-depth tour of the new Spring Training facility that the Rockies and Diamondbacks share, called Salt River Fields at Talking Stick. You can check out the pictures I took (using nothing but a telephone!) of the joint here. The word on the street—and by "street," I mean "Twitter"—is that it's the envy of the major leagues right now.
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That's it for now. I'll be back up here tickling the keyboard soon. And, seriously, thanks for taking the time to listen.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
I would like to think.
What's it like to make so much money that your biggest financial worry is... umm.... well... you really never—N E V E R—have financial worries? I can't put myself in the shoes of that person. Can't even put myself into the shoestrings of that person. And I doubt that I ever will, which is fine.
Albert Pujols knows what it's like, though. And yet he's due for a raise. He's currently making $16 million a year. That's over a million a month. A MONTH!!! And this will come as no surprise to any of you: he's not even close to the highest paid baseball player today. Now, based solely on his statistics and performance, he absolutely positively 100 percent deserves to be. The. Highest. Paid. Player. In. Baseball. I do not argue that.
But what happens when the guy who currently holds that title should not hold that title, or at least should not be making what he's making? Alex Rodriguez makes $27.5 million a year over with those crazy, overpayin' Yankees. Do the math on that real quick and you see that he's making in just over a couple weeks what Pujols can only manage to scrounge in a month.
Look, I don't mean for this to be a monologue on how baseball salaries are off the charts ridiculous. Plenty of iInk has been spilled on that topic. I have always said that teachers and doctors should be the best compensated individuals in our society, but our society is all out of whack in so many ways, and I'm just not smart enough to dissect that whole mess.
My unease with this Pujols debacle is pigheadedness. The Yankees obligated themselves to pay Rodriguez that insane amount of scratch SEVEN years ago! Why? Because they could afford to and they knew no other team could. And they were right. It's seven years later, and no one's signed as rich a contract. But the baseball know-it-all's now are saying that because Pujols is the best player in baseball—and they're not wrong about that—that he deserves to be the highest paid. And they wouldn't be wrong about that either, had the Yankees not raised the ceiling on that to heavenly proportions. Funny, too, because they're as close to the devil as a baseball team can be. Ahh, but that's another story.
So here I go: I would like to think that if the name on the back of my jersey read "PUJOLS" I would stay a St. Louis Cardinal, take a raise—knowing it falls short of A-Rod territory, because even A-Rod shouldn't be making A-Rod money, and neither should I—and be happy. Ecstatic, even. Ecstatic because I set an example of playing with pride. Of playing with the same team for my whole career and not following the money to some team out east that can afford to pay me better than A-Rod money. And, I would like to think, not ruin it even further for baseball when the next supreme talent, ten, twenty, fifty years from now is due for a raise, by pushing that ceiling even higher still than it ever needed to be pushed in the first place.
I would like to think, anyway.
Albert Pujols knows what it's like, though. And yet he's due for a raise. He's currently making $16 million a year. That's over a million a month. A MONTH!!! And this will come as no surprise to any of you: he's not even close to the highest paid baseball player today. Now, based solely on his statistics and performance, he absolutely positively 100 percent deserves to be. The. Highest. Paid. Player. In. Baseball. I do not argue that.
But what happens when the guy who currently holds that title should not hold that title, or at least should not be making what he's making? Alex Rodriguez makes $27.5 million a year over with those crazy, overpayin' Yankees. Do the math on that real quick and you see that he's making in just over a couple weeks what Pujols can only manage to scrounge in a month.
Look, I don't mean for this to be a monologue on how baseball salaries are off the charts ridiculous. Plenty of iInk has been spilled on that topic. I have always said that teachers and doctors should be the best compensated individuals in our society, but our society is all out of whack in so many ways, and I'm just not smart enough to dissect that whole mess.
My unease with this Pujols debacle is pigheadedness. The Yankees obligated themselves to pay Rodriguez that insane amount of scratch SEVEN years ago! Why? Because they could afford to and they knew no other team could. And they were right. It's seven years later, and no one's signed as rich a contract. But the baseball know-it-all's now are saying that because Pujols is the best player in baseball—and they're not wrong about that—that he deserves to be the highest paid. And they wouldn't be wrong about that either, had the Yankees not raised the ceiling on that to heavenly proportions. Funny, too, because they're as close to the devil as a baseball team can be. Ahh, but that's another story.
So here I go: I would like to think that if the name on the back of my jersey read "PUJOLS" I would stay a St. Louis Cardinal, take a raise—knowing it falls short of A-Rod territory, because even A-Rod shouldn't be making A-Rod money, and neither should I—and be happy. Ecstatic, even. Ecstatic because I set an example of playing with pride. Of playing with the same team for my whole career and not following the money to some team out east that can afford to pay me better than A-Rod money. And, I would like to think, not ruin it even further for baseball when the next supreme talent, ten, twenty, fifty years from now is due for a raise, by pushing that ceiling even higher still than it ever needed to be pushed in the first place.
I would like to think, anyway.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Chuck Tanner & Johnnie Sunshine
(Don't forget, from a big picture standpoint, that while the 1979 Pittsburgh Steelers also won the Super Bowl, the city in general was not in a very good place, what with the steel industry in the crapper, and unemployment at an all-time high during that period.)
But the real reason I'm bringing all this up is that I totally forgot, until today, who he was and that he even managed that team. And so, as happens whenever anyone of consequence dies, I'd seen a few short articles rehashing his career. And then one struck me. It was by Brian McTaggart who is the beat writer for the Houston Astros. Phil Garner was the Astros' manager in 2005 when they won the NL pennant. And it gets better. Phil Garner was on that 1979 Pirates team. In fact, he hit .500 in the World Series.
The article is worth checking out because it's just a good article, but there was one specific sequence that moved me.
Phil Garner on Chuck Tanner: "He never met a day he didn't like. His famous deal was you could get beat 15-0 in the worst conditions under the sun—snowing, sleeting and hailing—and he'd come in after the game and say it was great. He'd say, 'Just think what else we could be doing? Nothing else is as good as playing baseball.' We'd say, 'Yeah, right, Chuck,' but his attitude permeated everybody's spirit."
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Now, I'm the kind of guy that does his share of complaining. But I like to think that mine is a constructive brand of complaining. Not bitching just for the sake of bitching. But generally—and my wife will surely second this—I'm mister Johnnie Sunshine. Always giving the benefit of the doubt. Thinking anyone innocent unless proven guilty. I'm just not a big fan of people who spend a lot of time whining, especially without there's a reason.
So that reminiscence of Phil Garner, about Chuck Tanner, by way of Brian McTaggart, pleased me. It reinforced that there is a place for good-natured positivity. That there's always a place.
Yeah, students of the game will point out that Tanner could have shown some accountability during the cocaine scandals of the late '70s and early '80s. No one's perfect. And neither are most people well regarded at looking at the positive in spite of the negative. But Chuck Tanner was. And I'm all for that.
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1) Before Game 5 of that 1979 World Series, with the Pirates trailing 3 games to 1, Tanner's mom passed. His response: "My mother is a great Pirates fan. She knows we're in trouble, so she went upstairs to get some help." The Pirates obviously went on to win that game, as well as the final two of the Series, which were in Baltimore. To this day, they are the last team to win a Game 7 of the World Series on the road.
2) "Everyday was a great day. When we won, we beat the greatest players in the world. The second greatest thing was that you lose because you've had the chance to play against the best players in the world."
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Let's talk about The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, shall we?
Why? Because I'm sick of it. What In The World is the point of the rock and roll hall of fame? Oh, why yes, we have to honor those musicians, engineers, producers, song writers, and joint rollers, who have "in some major way, influenced the music industry through the genre of rock music."
In whose opinion? Sure as hell not mine. If it were, you could scratch a bunch of inductees off the list. Let's start with Rod Stewart. Gone. See ya later Black Sabbath. Bye-bye AC/DC, Van Halen, Genesis, Talking Heads, Elton John.
I could go on. But I think I'll let Johnny Lydon show you what's on his mind:
The Sex Pistols got invited to the hall in 2006 and succinctly declined. And they're right. The thing is a joke. In baseball, we have a hall of fame into which one is elected based on, theoretically anyway, a set of statistics that are kept of a game that has changed, rules-wise, very little in over 100 years. I'm not saying that the baseball hall of fame is perfect, because it ain't. Jim Rice? Uhhh, I don't think so. But I am saying that with baseball we have a set of accomplishments that are measured today as they were ten years ago, fifty years ago, even a hundred years ago. It wasn't any easier to get a fastball over the plate in 1923 than it is today, or to hit one over the fence in 1959 than it is today. Today's guys can be fairly stacked up against yesterday's guys pretty objectively, if not fairly.
But the problem that the rock and roll hall of fame presents for music—and there are so few problems with music, in my mind, that that in-and-of-itself blows the cover off the rock and roll hall of fame right there—is that there is no objective "statistic" on which to compare today's top artists with yesterday's. So we're basically letting a few guys subjectively tell us who has had the most influence on this moving target of a genre we describe as rock and roll.
My list of first-year inductees would be different than yours. And my neighbor's. And his grandmother's. And her great uncle's. OK. You get the point. Tom Waits is going to be inducted this year. Are you kidding me? He, for me, would have been in the year it opened. Those acts I mentioned above saying they should not be in? I like all of them a lot. In fact, some of the best albums of ALL TIME were recorded by some of them. But then again, the best baseball player I've seen in person is Larry Walker. He may never get into the baseball hall of fame. (I've seen Tony Gwynn, Ozzie Smith, Pedro Martinez, Greg Maddux, and many more, so don't argue that I've just not seen enough live baseball to weigh in.)
I should also mention that one of the dudes whose idea it was to even start a rock and roll hall of fame in the first place is Ahmet Ertegün, who, along with Herb Abramson, founded Atlantic Records back in the 1947. Atlantic Records is only responsible for some of the best music ever recorded. Ray Charles. Aretha Franklin. Led Zeppelin. Otis Redding. Sam and Dave. Big Joe Turner. Ertegün was a genius. But not all the ideas of a genius are genius.
In the end, music is such a subjective thing that there's no way to fairly enshrine one into a music hall of fame. We each have our own. Everyone's idea of who's important musically is unique. And that's a REALLY good thing. Otherwise there would be one radio station. And we would all listen to the same thing, because we would all like the same thing.
Maybe I'm over-simplifying the whole thing.
But no.
No, I'm not.
In whose opinion? Sure as hell not mine. If it were, you could scratch a bunch of inductees off the list. Let's start with Rod Stewart. Gone. See ya later Black Sabbath. Bye-bye AC/DC, Van Halen, Genesis, Talking Heads, Elton John.
I could go on. But I think I'll let Johnny Lydon show you what's on his mind:
The Sex Pistols got invited to the hall in 2006 and succinctly declined. And they're right. The thing is a joke. In baseball, we have a hall of fame into which one is elected based on, theoretically anyway, a set of statistics that are kept of a game that has changed, rules-wise, very little in over 100 years. I'm not saying that the baseball hall of fame is perfect, because it ain't. Jim Rice? Uhhh, I don't think so. But I am saying that with baseball we have a set of accomplishments that are measured today as they were ten years ago, fifty years ago, even a hundred years ago. It wasn't any easier to get a fastball over the plate in 1923 than it is today, or to hit one over the fence in 1959 than it is today. Today's guys can be fairly stacked up against yesterday's guys pretty objectively, if not fairly.
But the problem that the rock and roll hall of fame presents for music—and there are so few problems with music, in my mind, that that in-and-of-itself blows the cover off the rock and roll hall of fame right there—is that there is no objective "statistic" on which to compare today's top artists with yesterday's. So we're basically letting a few guys subjectively tell us who has had the most influence on this moving target of a genre we describe as rock and roll.
My list of first-year inductees would be different than yours. And my neighbor's. And his grandmother's. And her great uncle's. OK. You get the point. Tom Waits is going to be inducted this year. Are you kidding me? He, for me, would have been in the year it opened. Those acts I mentioned above saying they should not be in? I like all of them a lot. In fact, some of the best albums of ALL TIME were recorded by some of them. But then again, the best baseball player I've seen in person is Larry Walker. He may never get into the baseball hall of fame. (I've seen Tony Gwynn, Ozzie Smith, Pedro Martinez, Greg Maddux, and many more, so don't argue that I've just not seen enough live baseball to weigh in.)
I should also mention that one of the dudes whose idea it was to even start a rock and roll hall of fame in the first place is Ahmet Ertegün, who, along with Herb Abramson, founded Atlantic Records back in the 1947. Atlantic Records is only responsible for some of the best music ever recorded. Ray Charles. Aretha Franklin. Led Zeppelin. Otis Redding. Sam and Dave. Big Joe Turner. Ertegün was a genius. But not all the ideas of a genius are genius.
In the end, music is such a subjective thing that there's no way to fairly enshrine one into a music hall of fame. We each have our own. Everyone's idea of who's important musically is unique. And that's a REALLY good thing. Otherwise there would be one radio station. And we would all listen to the same thing, because we would all like the same thing.
Maybe I'm over-simplifying the whole thing.
But no.
No, I'm not.
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