driving to work this morning i was thinking about spring and how it has definitely sprung, now. this week my tv has had baseball all over it. prior to last night’s angel’s and dodger’s games, i even watched some of the red sox-rays game and caught glimpses of the yankees-orioles and reds-mets while picking up a pizza.
david eckstein is a padre now. matt holliday is an a. manny’s hair is longer-he looks like a reggae sunsplash player more than a left fielder for the dodgers. all the old faces in new places, the new faces in old places; like jordan schafer who hit two dingers in the first few days of the season and emilio bonifacio who is hitting .600, has a homer, four rbi, four runs and three stolen bases already in this young season, the renewed outlooks even for perennial also-rans like the pirates who won on opening day and sat atop their division if only for a night, the fresh dirt on the uniforms, the sounds of bat on ball or the pop of the catcher’s and first baseman’s gloves, it is spring because it is baseball because it is spring, after all.
baseball is america’s pastime. i have grown up with this game and i love it in so many ways. i love vin scully’s voice and I used to love to hear mel allen on tv on saturday mornings talking about “the week in baseball.” the buzzing bees in the trees these days remind me of the pesky little hitters who wreak havoc on pitchers, guys like ichiro, ellsbury, figgins, kinsler and so on, or from the past guys like brett butler and rickey henderson, or freddie patek or bert campaneris. These are the infamous “swarm of gnats,” scully has referred to when a team gets beaten by a bunch of dinkers and dunkers.
i love baseball food, too. “peanuts!” “yeah, over here buddy but throw them from 12 rows down where you are right now. it feels more like baseball.” who can eat a hot dog any time of year without thinking of baseball? (that must be why we have dodger dogs and ball park franks, after all.)
my third wedding anniversary is in just a few weeks, the first week of may actually, and I am told a gift this year should involve leather. would it be wrong to get her a brand new rawlings glove with a full grain leather shell and deer tanned cowhide lining for that special, baseball feel? i mean, i know she won’t play with it but it would certainly be a gift of love.
yesterday vin scully commented on the padres’ camouflage uniforms in honor of their “military night,” at the stadium, and mentioned how the town was abuzz with discussion of some of the military downsizing taking place these days and a certain airplane that has apparently lost its funding. he highlighted the fact that politicians are making these decisions and that people have strong feelings about whether those decisions are right or wrong, then he casually left it at that and i wondered what vin’s opinion is. i thought of emerson’s quote about not speaking speaking volumes but then thought vin is simply too classy to share his opinion publicly. in private he is probably an open and forthright person happy to share opinions and discuss things from a fairly informed perspective. who knows? what we can know is that he has not lost much as it relates to his status as the greatest baseball broadcaster of all time.
and today as my baseball infatuation is in full bloom i woke to the news of the death of nick adenhart, who died in an intersection five blocks down the street from my office. i was saddened because 12 hours earlier i admired adenhart as he escaped a bases loaded jam in the 6th to complete an outing of six scoreless. adenhart was 22 and had an especially bright future ahead of him in baseball. tragedy has struck baseball before. lyman bostock comes to mind. i heard adenhart's agent on the radio today and his voice cracked and the angels called off tonight's game and flowers assembled out front of angel stadium and the joy of spring cracked too, like a scratch on a record, and tomorrow the games will resume with all the requisite great plays and fantastic finishes.
i don't know though... when i started writing this little ode to baseball yesterday spring had sprung and all was glorious. right now, in the middle of the crack it feels like spring is broke. i can't hear the chirping birds or the buzzing bees. there is only a silence emanating from the mound at angel stadium where today nick adenhart's dad spent a moment beneath a sky full of clouds with his hand over his eyes.
david eckstein is a padre now. matt holliday is an a. manny’s hair is longer-he looks like a reggae sunsplash player more than a left fielder for the dodgers. all the old faces in new places, the new faces in old places; like jordan schafer who hit two dingers in the first few days of the season and emilio bonifacio who is hitting .600, has a homer, four rbi, four runs and three stolen bases already in this young season, the renewed outlooks even for perennial also-rans like the pirates who won on opening day and sat atop their division if only for a night, the fresh dirt on the uniforms, the sounds of bat on ball or the pop of the catcher’s and first baseman’s gloves, it is spring because it is baseball because it is spring, after all.
baseball is america’s pastime. i have grown up with this game and i love it in so many ways. i love vin scully’s voice and I used to love to hear mel allen on tv on saturday mornings talking about “the week in baseball.” the buzzing bees in the trees these days remind me of the pesky little hitters who wreak havoc on pitchers, guys like ichiro, ellsbury, figgins, kinsler and so on, or from the past guys like brett butler and rickey henderson, or freddie patek or bert campaneris. These are the infamous “swarm of gnats,” scully has referred to when a team gets beaten by a bunch of dinkers and dunkers.
i love baseball food, too. “peanuts!” “yeah, over here buddy but throw them from 12 rows down where you are right now. it feels more like baseball.” who can eat a hot dog any time of year without thinking of baseball? (that must be why we have dodger dogs and ball park franks, after all.)
my third wedding anniversary is in just a few weeks, the first week of may actually, and I am told a gift this year should involve leather. would it be wrong to get her a brand new rawlings glove with a full grain leather shell and deer tanned cowhide lining for that special, baseball feel? i mean, i know she won’t play with it but it would certainly be a gift of love.
yesterday vin scully commented on the padres’ camouflage uniforms in honor of their “military night,” at the stadium, and mentioned how the town was abuzz with discussion of some of the military downsizing taking place these days and a certain airplane that has apparently lost its funding. he highlighted the fact that politicians are making these decisions and that people have strong feelings about whether those decisions are right or wrong, then he casually left it at that and i wondered what vin’s opinion is. i thought of emerson’s quote about not speaking speaking volumes but then thought vin is simply too classy to share his opinion publicly. in private he is probably an open and forthright person happy to share opinions and discuss things from a fairly informed perspective. who knows? what we can know is that he has not lost much as it relates to his status as the greatest baseball broadcaster of all time.
and today as my baseball infatuation is in full bloom i woke to the news of the death of nick adenhart, who died in an intersection five blocks down the street from my office. i was saddened because 12 hours earlier i admired adenhart as he escaped a bases loaded jam in the 6th to complete an outing of six scoreless. adenhart was 22 and had an especially bright future ahead of him in baseball. tragedy has struck baseball before. lyman bostock comes to mind. i heard adenhart's agent on the radio today and his voice cracked and the angels called off tonight's game and flowers assembled out front of angel stadium and the joy of spring cracked too, like a scratch on a record, and tomorrow the games will resume with all the requisite great plays and fantastic finishes.
i don't know though... when i started writing this little ode to baseball yesterday spring had sprung and all was glorious. right now, in the middle of the crack it feels like spring is broke. i can't hear the chirping birds or the buzzing bees. there is only a silence emanating from the mound at angel stadium where today nick adenhart's dad spent a moment beneath a sky full of clouds with his hand over his eyes.
1 comment:
Wow. What a drag. But I hafta say I love Vin Scully. I miss Vin Scully. Vin Scully was my introduction to baseball and I will always remember listening to him on my mom's old clock radio late at night, hoping for extra innings sometimes.
Ross Porter and Jerry Doggett just didn't have what Vin has. My Dodger days are long behind me, but baseball is in my blood and a lot of that is because of Mr. Scully. Classy that he didn't give you his real opinion--but I have so much respect for him, I want to know too!
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