Manny Bein' Manny

My friend Barb the Evil Genius said she would like me to write about Manny, since she is an Indians fan, and very familiar with him (and since he's been going around advertising that's where he'd like to finish his career as well). Problem is, its just been too busy and too NICE to sit in here on the computer.

But here goes...STUPID GIT...or something that rhymes with that. I'm not concerned for the Dodgers. Manny has been a powerful influence, and his bat is important, but our guys have been doing just fine without him. I knew he'd be trouble one way or another, and have insisted all through the off-season that we did not want this guy if we could not have a contract that would be short, since he gets arrogant and difficult the more secure he is.

Anyway, so that man, and I use that term loosely -- HCG and all, drags us all through a tortuous contract process, knowing he's taking this stuff. He signs the contract, knowing that if he gets caught, he's of no use to us for 1/3 of the season, and who knows how he will be when he comes back.

Not only that, he's called into question our new record of most wins at home at the beginning of the season. Some say we wouldn't have gotten it if Manny hadn't juiced. I don't know if that is the case, with his sore hammy, he has mostly hit doubles, but then again, pitchers don't want to mess with him. He's also called into question all the success he has been associated with his entire career, including Boston's 2004 World Series.

My personal take...I would love for the Dodgers to sue to nullify his contract. I'm sick of these steroid guys (notice how a lot of them seem to be Boras's guys?). I really don't think that losing a few million and sitting for a month and 1/2 is enough. Manny intentionally signed a contract that he knew he might not be able to fulfill, that would put the Dodgers in a bind if this happened. Emphasize to these jerks that if they do steroids, they could lose it all. I don't think it will stop, really stop, until that hits home.

Baseball's Here!!!

Baseball season is here again, and I must admit, after five years here in Indiana, I am still not adjusted to the idea of being horribly cold on the first day. And looking at snow on the ground (though just in patches) is just plain wrong.

But still, all is once again right with the world. My Boys in Blue are ready to play, and I'm excited about the team. I am thrilled with the signings and I love our young guys....and Maggie and I managed to once again obtain Russell Martin for our fantasy team. What more could I want?

Woo Hoo! Go Dodgers!

Baseball Imitating Life....In the Middle Ages

My husband is a fan of Ebbets Field Flannels and loves the look of traditional baseball jerseys, and it is just fun to look at the different uniforms and muse over the names of Negro League and minor league teams long gone (and some still around).

Looking through their website tonight, we found a cap for one team that was a pretty obscure historical reference, the type you rarely find in baseball...especially minor league baseball

The York White Roses.

Clever, and I hardly would've expected a minor league baseball reference to the famed War of the Roses that tore Britain apart for so long...IN THE 15th CENTURY. After all, the stereotype is that most of the fans and definitely the players back then could barely read. To see a reference in baseball to the thirty-four year battle for the throne that waged between the House of York and the House of Lancaster...Wow. That was unexpected to say the least.

But what struck me as completely ironic was the blip in the section on the history of the team:

Managed by Rudy Hulswitt, York finished in 7th place, 17 1/2 games behind the pennant winner. The franchise MOVED TO LANCASTER!! in 1941, but the move didn't help, as the franchise finished dead last, 39 games out.

It however, doesn't say whether or not the franchise was renamed to the Red Roses when they moved.

And yes, I am a complete geek. I know it.

Comerica Park

It is hard being a Dodger fan and being so far away. Luckily there are things like the MLB package so that we can actually see the games (and In-n-Out commercials. That is tortuous). But the one thing I can say is that it at least affords us the opportunity to see other parks, occasionally. That wasn't too important to us when we lived in L.A. I've never even been to see the Angels at home (and since they keep changing their name and their field's name...I can't keep that straight, either). We did go to see the Dodgers play the Diamondbacks back when it was at "The BOB." (the saddest thing about Chase taking over Bank One was the loss of the coolest park name in baseball). And I've been to see the Padres twice, back when they played at Jack Murphy Stadium (aka Qualcomm). I'd love to see the new one.

But since we've left California, we've seen Coors Field (Rockies), Busch Stadium (Cardinals. We've all been to the old one, and Jeff has been to the new -- that's what happens when you let a Cards fan be godmother to your children), Great American Ballpark (Reds), and now Comerica (Detroit Tigers).

Last month, we went to see the Dodgers play the Tigers (and see them lower themselves to utilizing the abomination called the designated hitter). We went with my parents, who live in Michigan in the Summer. And I must say, I was very impressed. It's not easy to impress someone who is used to one of the most beautiful parks in baseball. Comerica was beautiful, and the fans were great. Some places can't really pump themselves up without cutting down the other team. The Dodgers don't do that...and neither did the Tigers.

(aside) The only time I have heard an opposing team booed at Dodger Stadium didn't have to do with the opposing team...those in the left field seats can't seem to resist chanting "Barry sucks" whenever Bonds came to town. It had nothing to do with his being a Giant. It had to do with his being Barry. But Dodger fans knew it way earlier than the rest of baseball -- it is an ontological thing. (Though I am sure that if Vin went down and graced left field, all who indulged in the ridicule would've hung their heads in shame, condemned by the class that exudes from his pores. No "talking to" would've been necessary) (I don't feel too guilty. The Giants are probably among the worst offenders of beatin' on the opposing team to make themselves feel better about themselves...though they are worse with the Dodgers than any other. Its a good rivalry).

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It was an interesting experience being in a park for a team that had a mascot that actually connotes power. When you think about it, most baseball teams don't have really powerful mascots -- Dodgers, Red Sox, Cubs, Cardinals, Orioles, Blue Jays, Marlins, Angels, Phillies (just to name a few) -- not generally images that can leave you shaking in your shoes, if there really is even an image to think of.

The Tigers use tigers very well, and they don't go hokey, and they easily could. The statues of Tigers that were up above the gates, staring down on us were artistic, gorgeous, and very intimidating. There were heads of tigers (carved in stone, of course, not real) mounted all over the buildings, each gingerly holding a baseball in its mouth, gently holding it in place with its fangs. The scoreboard was awesome, also with two tigers flanking it, looking like they were pacing anxiously, getting ready for the kill). The carousel in the eating commons was composed entirely of tigers, rather than the menagerie of animals that we are used to. The announcer would roll his R's in a subtle growl when he would announce players coming up to bat (though it was subtle enough that it took a few innings to realize he was doing it). I really love how they embraced their "Tiger-ness." But no Tony the Tiger, nothing outright goofy.

The ballpark was small, but it was beautiful . While the Tigers do not have their own parking, there were plenty of lots close by, and plenty of workers willing to herd us in and guide us into a spot. I'd always balked at parks that "went commercial" with rides, bars, stores, and regular restaurants. But the commons area where there were restaurants and bars were nice. They also abstained from the goofy between inning promotions every inning. They had giveaways, but they weren't huge productions or terribly corny (you can have some fun). The Tigers did it all well, and didn't make it seem like an amusement park with a baseball game going on to the side. And I must say, the frozen daquiris (adult Icees) really hit the spot for me!!! (and my mom, too). I'm all for something like "Daquiri's" in Dodger Stadium. (Mr. McCourt...get on that!)

The park itself was flanked by two very old churches. I am sure there was some legal protection there that allowed them to stay in place (registered historical sites, I am sure). The Methodist Church took full advantage of it. They sold premium parking, sold peanuts, had a Tigers memorabilia store, and a chili bar. The church that flanked the other side seemed more quiet.

The game was good...but we lost, of course. The guys behind us were bantering with us the whole game...though as their alcohol flowed, the bantering was a little less coherent (and the sound system was balanced enough so we could hear them....a flaw that is increasingly common).

It was an awesome day. I wish I could say the baseball was as good. There were a few good plays, but it was one of those days where each team was proving who could lose it better, not who was more skilled. But when you have 162 games every year and when your team is in a pitiful hitting slump , there are going to be games like that. (Unfortunately, it is always when we manage to see our Dodgers on the road.) We were in it for a while though.

It was still good to cheer on my boys in blue though. I miss them.

From "The League"

I always end up calling our fantasy baseball league "The League" with an ominous voice. It dates back to a series of commercials that ESPN had promoting their own league package...it started with a guy contacting his friends "I'm getting THE LEAGUE back together." and then they'd run and try to get other guys. The best one was "Hey Tom, we're getting the League back together." "You keyed my car!!!" the other guy screams. "Yeah" the first one admits, "But its THE LEAGUE."

Heidi and John are the first marriage that has occurred in our Fantasy Baseball League (obviously, they knew each other outside of that). So, for this very special occasion, The League got them a commemorative baseball bat, engraved with their names, their wedding dates, and their team names, signed by all of us. This was Designated Knitter's brainchild, and she helped facilitate shipping it across the nation as well, so it could be signed by everyone.

We were the last stop on the "road trip," (living in close proximity and actually being able to attend the wedding) so it fell to us to figure out how to wrap it. I think the Commish (my ever so creative husband) did a great job, don't you? He definitely had fun with it.

We signed the card from everyone as well, and made sure to also include instructions that this cannot be used on each other, or on any of their future parishoners!!

Deja Vu All Over Again

After lessons today, my 11 year old son was looking through the issue of Boy's Life which arrived earlier.

"Hey mom, listen to this!" he said excitedly. "At Rockies' Stadium in Denver (aka Coors Field), because it is so high, they have a row of purple seats near the top that marks the one mile altitude mark. That's pretty cool"

He looked up at me. I stared bemusedly at him. "What?" he asked after a minute.

I was so bemused because he HAD been there, and we dragged him (not literally) kicking and screaming right up to that row and made him grimace for a picture, as we were driving on our way to move here.

Well, at least now that he thinks it is cool, he can say that he's done it.

(another point to remember you exuberant moms of young ones who don't want their kids to miss anything...if it is before they are ten, they are just as likely to forget it as to remember it...and if they are male, probably more likely. My kids have forgotten more 'special experiences' than you could ever fathom)

Over the last several weeks, I've been trying to figure out how to express the feelings that I have about the Mitchell Report since it has come out. Maybe tonight, the night before Congress convenes to hear Roger Clemens testify that he never took steroids or HGH, and hear his trainer say "yes, he did"....maybe this is the night to do so.

I've read most of the Mitchell Report, and I would have to say, I believe it. Mitchell did not report hearsay, but instead reported the testimony of suppliers who could provide copies of the mailing labels, cancelled checks, doping schedules, voice mail recordings of orders, and so on. Names were not simply thrown out there. There was significant evidence for the names that were listed on that report.

The whole controversy over Clemens has (maybe thankfully) overshadowed two players that had been near and dear to my heart. Paul LoDuca and Eric Gagne, and I am sure but for anyone but Clemens, Gagne's save record would have been the media focus. I'm not saying he should be spared that. I'm just glad that I have been.

More than in any other sport, in baseball, you really become attached to the players. The ball clubs make sure you do. You see them play every day, you root for them every day. They make sure you know why each man on the field is special so that you will cheer for them, so that you will be at the plate with them, and so that you will buy their jersey.

The year before I became a Dodger fan, the O'Malleys, who had owned the Dodgers since they were in Brooklyn (and for decades before) decided to sell the team to Fox Network. The Dodgers had gone from being family-owned, steeped in tradition, to another corporate pawn (which really the point in Fox's buying them was to stop ESPN from establishing a regional network chain like Fox Sports has now). In the process, a well-loved GM was fired (Fred Claire), and a battle for salary started with the much-loved Mike Piazza. Piazza to this day insists that he wasn't asking for as much as Fox says he was, but he did want a no-trade clause so that he could have his entire career be as a Dodger. Fox very speedily traded Piazza to the Marlins. The hole at catcher wasn't nearly as big as the hole in most fans hearts. Most Dodger fans remember the day Piazza was traded, and whether they were mad at Piazza for holding out, or at Fox for betraying the fans so readily, the pain was tangible.

The next few years were followed by a tortuous experience with a terrible GM who pretty much let Scott Boras run the team (and several of the new players were making gobs more than Fox refused to pay Piazza), and we suffered several mediocre catchers. When Jim Tracy was hired as manager, he said he was going to give this kid a chance that had been waiting for years down at AAA. Kid was a misnomer. Paul LoDuca was 30, and he'd been waiting a long time. He was good, dang good. But he was short, and the general belief was that he didn't have the build to be a good, everyday catcher.

But the masterful art of Vin Scully weaved a legend out of LoDuca, waiting in the wings -- about how he struggled, about how he almost returned to help his wife and his dad run a little bitty restaurant in Sedona, Arizona, but he loved baseball so much. There were stories about how his mother used to pitch beans to him that he tried to hit-- which is why he almost never struck out. And then there was the touching effect of how every first at bat, Pauly would write his dead mother's initials in the dirt before he entered the batters box. That combined with how scrappy he was (one time he was hit in the face with a pitch. After just a couple of minutes, he trotted over to first, after every fan was sure his orbital bone must have been fractured to bits...then after one day off, he played every day while that huge rainbow welt healed). Then there was how he handled his pitchers. They all liked him...but he took care of them, whether they liked it or not. He took the ball from Darren Dreyfort and from a fuming Kevin Brown (two pitchers whose bodies were falling apart at alarming rates..and Kevin Brown was another mentioned in the Mitchell Report -- none of the coaches had the gumption to do it, and he spotted that something was wrong before anyone else was ready to act on it. Sometimes I wonder if they listened to him because he knew they were doping as well-- at least Brown was.)

Then there is Eric Gagne....oh man. Every time that kid got on the mound to pitch in the first inning, you knew it was "Game Over" even then. Only back then, it was clear that if Gagne was pitching, we were going to lose. He was a bundle of nerves, but everyone had faith in him. He spent 5 days each week working himself up for the game and tying his stomach in knots (then he'd go back down to AAA and pitch shutouts). The only game he started masterfully was the one where he was sent out onto the mound only ten minutes after he had arrived on Sept. 1st, when the roster was expanded. That was the Gagne everyone said was there. And that was the Gagne that became this masterful closer. He did well when he didn't know he was going in, that made him perfect. And when that guitar started into the first few notes of "Welcome to the Jungle" and all the lights around Dodger Stadium flashed "Game Over" as he trotted out on to the field, I cannot even begin to convey the excitement. Only a Dodger fan knows it. Gagne's dirty cap and his consecutive save record were some of the most exciting baseball I will probably ever see.

My heart broke the day that X*#@% new GM traded away Paul Lo Duca. And I know I wasn't the only one. Jim Tracy, the manager took Lo Duca's # for his own. Eric Gagne had #16 written on his famously stained cap in several places, and it didn't go away until they faced each other...and Gagne lost and three Marlins, including LoDuca came across the plate that inning, winning the game. And before that inning, you could see him in the bullpen, sitting by the window. He wasn't even watching the game. He always watched the game. He didnt want to pitch..whether it was facing his best friend, or the catcher who would have the best insight into beating him, or was it the one who knew he was taking steroids, who helped him get them and injected him with them....who knows. But I knew we lost when he came out....from how he was acting, and from the fact that this was the first game ever that Vin Scully did not say "Bienvenu Monsieur Gagne" as he came out of the gate (and again...why did Gagne walk LoDuca...why did he lose that game? Was it emotions, or was it that LoDuca knew Gagne was on steroids, and that he had something on him? That's the evil thing about cheating...you never know how far it goes, what is real and what is not. That's what wrong with what Pete Rose did...and that is what is wrong with steroid use).

These are the things that are in my heart. And the first thing that comes to my mind is "its all a lie." The stories Vin told, the love that I had for them...the joy, the sweat...lies. Big fat doping lies. I don't think Vin lied. He did his job, and did it well, and Vin loves with all his heart, too. But Pauly lied. Gagne lied. The Dodgers who figured they were both doping lied. And the fans are the ones who sit there with their hearts broken trying to figure it out. It was just another Hollywood production.

But I don't know how much of it really was lies. Lo Duca I was prepared for...after hearing about his escapades with the Mets -- cheating on his wife, and acting like a jerk in many various ways. I want to think that was not the Dodgers' beloved Pauly. The Mitchell Report says that the Dodgers didn't think that LoDuca was taking after his first season when he hit a bunch of homers. I don't know. Lo Duca had several more great years...never big homerun years...but he was on fire to make the All-Star team, to be recognized after the years he waited...and he was, and he became a regular. Who knows what was real or fake? I just know that as a fan, I feel betrayed.

I don't know when Gagne started. The fact that he had to call the supplier to ask how to get bubbles out of a syringe (a very basic thing) in 2005 leads me to hope that the Cy Young and the all time save record weren't lies....It doesn't makes sense that he wouldn't know how to do that if he had three years experience with them, even if he wasn't always the one who injected himself.

But the point is...I can't tell. And I really despise them for it.

I understand the temptation they went through...if that was even an issue for them. I can imagine the pressure they were under to make it...but as a fan...I would've rather never cared...never heard about their sainted mothers or seen their tears when they were sent down yet again...I would've rather never gone through it with them...if their journey was a lie...if it wasn't them...it it was them mutating themselves. I would've rather heard the stories of those who would be in their places who weren't injecting themselves with steroids..even if the stories weren't nearly as interesting. I'm sure the Dodgers would've made it so.

I've known for a couple of years now that Lo Duca had a slimy side to him. I've been through hearing all the stories about Gary Sheffield's journey into Christianity only to see him threaten to destroy a team because he wanted a new contract in the middle of his old one. And quite honestly, I knew it was a possibility that Gagne was taking steroids as well. He went from a skinny kid to this big mound of a man...all fat and sloppy. He could've been a steroid posterboy....but I still hoped. I know this is how it goes. I hate that part of it...but I know this is how it goes. And I know there will be other players that I will "fall in love" with (thanks to Vin's masterful art of weaving these stories) and I know I will probably go through this again...but if anything shattered my innocence....this did. This all started when Mark MacGwire wouldn't give a straight answer, and I realized "Oh my God, it is true." when I knew it was..but the fact that he wouldn't answer was worse than the truth.

And tomorrow, more lies will be added.

I apologize that this is all over the place, because in reality, that is where my thoughts and feelings still are, even two months later. As each year goes by, I realize that as much as I love this game - and it is impossible for me not to love it, I hate being a fan in the steroid era. There will never be another player in my lifetime probably, that will be successful without that hanging over his head. And I hate them for destroying the innocence of so many fans...and so many fans to come (kids especially)...who will be cynically evaluating every player, every statistic, wondering if it is safe to really like them...to cheer for them...to be a fan, a real fan and to wonder whether the heartfelt stories are something that Hollywood would eat up...or whether it is a dream born in a chemistry lab.

Gambling in Sports

To paraphrase my husband, can anyone look at the uproar that has followed the officiating scandal in the NBA, and not see how what Pete Rose did was so completely detrimental and damaging to baseball, the game he claimed to love?

Record holder or not, amazing player or not, gambling on a sport where you have some control of the outcome (and I don't believe Pete Rose had the self-control or the desire to stay away from gambling on his own team, or as Commissioner Stern said "when you gamble, you lose the benefit of the doubt), not to mention putting the sport into the hands of organized crime, should automatically leave you ineligible for the Hall of Fame. A Hall of Famer should be more than a record holder, he should be someone who lifted up the game and made it better.

What Am I Thinking????

(Ah, Nomar -smile-)

Oh, uh, sorry. Anyway, when I was reading Dr. Veith's comments about the fantabulous Brewers the other day, I realized that I really haven't posted about my beloved Dodgers practically this entire season.

Seemingly, there would be a lot to write about. They are having a really good season. They are going back and forth with the Padres for first place in the NL West. Nomar is still adorably cute (and to think, I was against signing him). Russell Martin is having a stellar year and is healing that gut-wrenching pain after the Paul LoDuca trade (of course, Paul LoDuca is managing to erase that himself, by kind of being a schmuck). Our veterans are relatively cool, and our rookies are exciting. So why do I feel so drab?

Maybe this is what a Cubs fan feels like every year. I can't quite place it. We are often in first place, yet for the first time in several years of hearing that the NL is subpar (despite the fact that our records were better against other divisions than against our own!), I think "if we are in first place, then the NL West stinks this year. "

I have not been fond of Luis Gonzalez, and not simply because he used to badmouth us and accuse us of stealing signs when he was a Dback. He's still a good hitter, but he is not a good fielder anymore, and he often gives up a run through an error for every RBI he gets. Opposing teams are well aware that if they hit the ball to left or to center, they can get a double or make it home if they are at first. It is reminiscent of when we had Jason Phillips as a catcher, and he could NOT get throw to 2nd. We had one team steal 6 bases on him in just a few innings. Gonzo and Pierre just don't have the arms. But with personalities like Jeff Kent and Brad Penny, I think Gonzo's value is probably in the clubhouse.

I'm thrilled to death that Pierre is stealing again, but I'm frustrated with Rafael Furcal. He is playing hurt and I get so sick of players who insist on being on the field and being a liability to the team when they could be on the DL for a while and heal, and be an asset as we race for the playoffs. I still wish we had not signed him, and that we had waited for Cesar Izturis. Defensively, even now, Izzy is better.

I hope we make it to the playoffs, but with this team, I don't know if we can compete once we get there. We are not playing like a playoff team. We are playing like a team that for some unknown reason, happens to get key hits. I don't mind that we don't hit homeruns. I LOVE little ball. But I wish we were better at that. We fight through the whole game. That is something new over the last year or so. There are a lot of games we win in the eighth or ninth. And man, he may not have the charisma of Gagne, but Saito is fabulous.

So I guess I'm kind of mixed up, and I haven't written about it because I don't want to think about it. So, just in case you were wondering....I guess it is just one of those seasons.