A Little Cameo

So on a quiet Sunday night (which I badly need after last night) I am listening to local sports talk radio and we have quite the doozy from your typical uninformed, stereotypical host:

I'm sure stat people can find something about Scott Podsednik that calls him average, but then again they probably could say something about Ichiro. Not that I'm comparing Podsednik to Ichiro or anything.

Even in this renaissance (read fluke) season for old Scotty Pods, he has an OPS+ of 93, below the league standard of 100 (which is a pretty basic stat that even the ESPN types have started to use in their analysis). Even though I think Ichiro is a bit overrated since he hates taking walks or hitting for any kind of power, he still has an OPS+ of 129 this season and 118 for his career (whereas Podsednik has a career OPS+ of 86 and only one reason of an OPS+ of 100 or better). Not to mention the fact that Ichiro is light years better as an outfielder and a bit better base runner (though both guys get caught on stolen bases way too often).

Basically, I am not saying that Podsednik is an average player. He has (save his rookie year) and always will be a below average player that brings nothing to a team but a lot of smoke and mirrors and I hope White Sox management lets another team overpay for the flash of a fast, yet dumb base runner that cannot play the outfield.

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DeWayne Wise is a walking cliche

Just flipped to AMC, which is showing For the Love of the Game. Those familiar with the movie may remember that the Tigers' center fielder robs a home run to record the 23rd out of Billy Chapel's perfect game. Seems awfully familiar.

Ok, so Wise's catch was in the ninth and not the eighth, and he caught it in left-center, not straightaway center. Nevertheless, it's shocking that Universal hasn't sued Wise for copyright infringement. (Oh, that's right--they've already dispatched every available lawyer to bleed money out of online video distributors and file sharers.)

Anyway, I couldn't find a video with the robbed homer clip, though I did find this, which you may have seen before but is far more entertaining:

UPDATE: The guy who makes the final out for the Yankees would have to be slower than Paul Konerko carrying fat Kevin Mitchell on his back to get thrown out on that play. It's a high chopper off the bat; the ball deflects of Chapel's glove and bounds toward second base long enough to show several slow-mo seconds of agonized Costner-face; the shortstop then has to dive to field the ball--on the far side of second base, no less--before coming to his feet and throwing to first. And the throw still beats the runner by a full stride. Ridiculous.

Also, having never seen the movie before, it's obvious that For the Love of the Game was just a high-budget platform for Kevin Costner to indulge in his fantasies to be a major leaguer and play in Yankee stadium (with a younger woman as a love interest to boot). How pathetic. / I'm jealous.

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Gymnastics

This graphic (lifted from a friend's Facebook post without permission) appeared on ESPN last night. What it tells us is... something:

All priceless information (especially the bottom scroll). Beamed through your cornea in crystal-clear HD.

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For real?

I mean, seriously:

Perfect games are cool and all, but I'm not sure I could justify one being lead story for the world's biggest news organization. Don't they know that Michael Jackson died???

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Comment on real website = Post here

Over at Craig "Shyster" Calcattera's NBC Sports blog, I had an Andy Rooney moment after reading a post he made regarding a failed attempt at a start-up baseball league in 1959. The comment being more substantive than anything I've posted here in a while, I thought I should re-post it here.

Call me crazy, but I could see the idea of a rival league gaining momentum in the not-too-distant future as the live game experience continues down the path toward stimulatory overload. Assuming that chairback touchscreen monitors and the like will become MLB-wide status quo within a few decades (and assuming that most farm and indy-league teams will piggyback), I expect an underserved market of fans to emerge whose ideal live baseball experience is still an escape from their plugged-in, clamorous world--not the extension of it that MLB have become. It seems the market is already palpable, and it's not just made up of people over fifty.

I'm 25. I love the internet. I love loud music. I love things that flash lights and make noise when I touch them. However, I do not desire these things when I'm watching live baseball. Some things go together well. Others do not. Modern MLB games are like fine merlot with Skittles and a side of fireworks. I long to be one of those fans in the grainy newsreel footage, and I worry for the fate of the endangered organist.

I think this crackpot theory of mine was cemented Friday night when I went to the Sox game with Zuch and a few other friends. Granted, it was a cold night game, and we sat in the club section (ahem, the LG Skyline Club section, as Hawk Harrelson so dutifully refers to it each time a foul ball lands there), which can distort the perceptions a bit. But even still, that familiar good vibe I always get at baseball games was hard to find. Too many colors, too much motion, too much "(I Don't Wanna Lose) Your Love."

Of course, it's not just the Cell. I'm fairly certain the P.A. at Wrigley is several decibels louder than it was, say, six or seven years ago. And for what? A more intense atmosphere? Regular-season baseball is as much about intensity as government work. Trying to fabricate intensity with intro music is futile and obnoxious.

Whether it spawns interest in a new league or not, I do think the tension between escapism and sobriety is poised to build in the next few decades. Ideally, it wouldn't be an all A versus all B choice; rather, both A and B would be a ticket away.

Us romantics have grudgingly tolerated the MLB on FOX for fifteen years, but if we can no longer enjoy the live experience, it may be time to split the congregation and start a new church.

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Brilliant promotional idea for the White Sox

I've already lent my genius consulting services to the Brewers. Hopefully, it caught the eye of the White Sox people too because I just came up with a brilliant idea for them. That's what we do here at Vinnie's Brilliant Ideas, Inc., and it's a fool-proof business model. We pay me to think; I churn out brilliant ideas, which is a matter of habit for me. Just another day at the ofice.

So what's this latest great idea from the Vinnie's pipeline? Simple--Invite a special guest to sing the seventh inning stretch during the Cubs-Sox series at the Cell this year. Who, you ask? Why none other than P.R. Chief in Chief, Barack Obama.

The reasons to stage this promotion are multifold and obvious. 1) As we all know, Barry's a huge Sox fan, and since being innaugurated, he's already shown up once at the Cell--to throw out the first pitch on opening day this year. 2) He should have the time, now that he's finished flubbing the big decisions on the economy. 3) It would piss off Cubs fans who feel that they own the celebrity-performed (and occasionally sortafamousperson-performed) seventh inning stretch tradition. 4) We'd get to hear Barry sing! 5) It would settle the current mess in Iran... at least in some alternate reality construed by the lefties in the mainstream media.

Now, some Sox fans might object and be all like, "No! That's something gay the Cubs do, and they're fags who suck! We don't wanna suck like them!" But of course--as seasoned Chicago baseball fans know--the singing of the seventh inning stretch began as a White Sox tradition.

It would be great. They could even have the Motivational Speaker in Chief join Hawk and Stone Pony in the booth to call a few innings and try to catch foul balls with Harry's old fish net. Harrelson-Stone-Obama: What a dream team! My palms are sweating just thinking about it. (Oh wait--that's just because I've my hands in my crotch for the last hour. But still!)

I think the Sox need to act fast on this idea, though, and do it during this year's series before rising unemployment gives rise to civil unrest and ultimately a violent coup, at which point Obama will be just another refugee seeking asylum from the Limbaugh Liberation Militia. In the meantime, though, it'll be fun at the ol' ballpark, Obama-style.

So what do you say, Chairman Reinsdorf? Is it a go? Hell yeah, it's a go! No, thank you, Chairman Reinsdorf. You can send my check to:

Accounts Receivable

Vinnie's Brilliant Ideas, Inc.

1010 Awesome St., Suite Idea

Badass, IL 60606-$$$$

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Youtube Insomniac Theatre: Brokertothestars

Whenever I'm up as late as I am right now, I inevitably find myself surfing around for video of old baseball clips--or anything even tangentially related to baseball--in part to find hidden gems to share with others but mostly because I am child who flocks to familiar images for comfort.

Call it a quarter-life crisis if you must, but my fascination with places I vaguely remember from childhood has been especially potent recently. Couple that fascination with my intrinsic obsession for places that no longer exist (particularly those that once hosted baseball games), and voila--you have an unnecessary blog post dedicated to some dude's camcorder footage of old Comiskey Park in its final days. Say what you will about the video quality and the cameraman's awkward (though endearing) exchanges with the his wife, this guy did a good job of getting different perspectives of the place.

Highlights include: Rookie Frank Thomas and Rookie Alex Fernandez, Ozzie Guillen in his playing prime, Carlton Fisk in his twilight, the 1990 Red Sox, Andy the Clown, and lots and lots of huge glasses. Enjoy.







Not to exclude our east coast fans (Danny), here's another one of his videos--a 1989 Kincks-Bullets game at the Garden, featuring head coach Rick Pitino:

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I've always loved Ozzie Guillen, right?

"I asked Peralta if that pitch was low and in, and he said yes," Guillen said. "They thought I was crazy because I wasn't protecting J.D. I was protecting the opposition. That means I was going to send the message that I wasn't here to protect my players. I was here to protect baseball."

This is a brilliant tactic. Why don't more managers do this rather than just lobbying for their own team? What better way to grease an ump than purporting to value fairness over all else, including your own team's success. If the ump buys it, he's likely to be more receptive to future protests by that manager, and if he takes offense--like DiMuro did--the manager still wins by making the ump look like a Sensitive Sally. I love it.

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Happy Opening Day from YCS

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Not to make fun of a dying guy...

...But something about the sight of Castro in an Addidas track suit cracks me up.

Oh crap... I need to somehow make this about sports. Ummm... That's right! Castro used to play baseball! And he is, after all, wearing a track suit. Oh, and how do you think Dayan Viciedo will do for the White Sox?

Relevance: salvaged. *blows on finger like smoking pistol*

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Economic Forecast for October 2008

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Na-na Na-Naah Na-na Na-Naah HEY Hey hey You DIIIIIE!!!!

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Thank you, Jesus

The Chicago White Sox have announced today that Steve Stone will take over the color analyst role for TV broadcasts next season, replacing current color man Darrin Jackson.

For those of you that don't live in the Chicago TV market or have never watched White Sox games on WGN, it's impossible for me to overstate how huge of an improvement this is. (Imagine upgrading to a Lamborghini from lung cancer. It's something like that.)

As for Darrin Jackson, he seems like a very nice guy, and I feel bad about all the harsh words I've had for him on this blog. Having said that, he is--quite simply--a bad color analyst. Maybe he'd be fine as a pannelist on a studio show or a technician in an eye-care clinic, but he is not good at calling live baseball games. Hopefully he will find his niche elsewhere.

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Dumb broad

A woman shown on TV just now during a Jim Thome at-bat was holding a sign that said, "THOME HIT IT TO-ME."

While that's an awesomely clever and cool sign (not to mention artful, having been made with one of those Office Max posterboards and a Sharpie) that I'd typically give my fullest endorsement, there was one problem: She was sitting in the first row... behind the visitors' on-deck circle... right over Thome's shoulder... meaning a ball hit to her would not only be foul but would likely kill her. Please, Jim--do hit it to her.

(Sorry, I'm just bitter that Zuch and I could have been at this game to ridicule her in person from equally awesome company-funded seats if one of our two jerk friends could have used the third seat instead of being the jerks they are and not being able to use the seat.)

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Some of Chicago partying like it's 1993

I first heard the news of Ken Griffey Jr. being traded to the White Sox in the form of a "breaking sports report" by a Chicago classic rock disc jockey (who's name I believe is Steve Downs) on my drive into work yesterday morning. As the details of the trade were yet to be released, he jokingly suggested that the White Sox had offered Navy Pier in return--which I guess was his clever way of saying, "something of tremendous value."

Ok, no big deal. Classic rock DJ doesn't fully realize that Ken Griffey Jr. can no longer play center field and that his .753 OPS is rather pedestrian for a corner outfielder. I give him a pass. He is--after all--a classic rock DJ.

Mike Downey, on the other hand, is just really, really confused what year it is.

Some other things Mike Downey is stoked about:

• the new 386 processor
• the upcoming season premier of Northern Exposure
• MCI's new "Friends and Family" plan
• Hot Shots, Part Deux
• the McLean
• [other 1993ish-era pop culture reference]

What's funny is that even the Honorable Capt. J. Obvious Mariotti has the sense to realize, "The White Sox are not getting the first-ballot Hall of Famer, the Ken Griffey Jr. once endorsed for president by Nike, the phenom who scaled fences and blasted home runs in flurries and defined the essence of the five-tool stud."

So to Steve Downs or whatever your name is, I say: Stick to classic rock.

To Mike Downey: Fire up that 386 beast at least once every four or five years, and look up some stats.

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Pro-bunting propoganda, starring A.J. Pierzynski, Hawk Harrelson, and the honorable Richard M. Daley

I just saw this commercial for the first time last night, but it wasn't uploaded to Youtube until today--apparently by "Da Mare" himself. And befitting of Mayor Daley, embedding the video is forbidden, no doubt in the interest of some wide-scale corruption going on in City Hall.

By the way, if this ad campaign confuses you, watch the related videos that feature the other commercials in this series. (You'll still be confused.)




And just for kicks, enjoy this one starring Carlton Fisk and Richard Dotson from 1984:

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In the words of the man himself, "That is BS!"

A few minutes ago, the colorful, legendary voice of the Chicago White Sox, Ken "the Hawk" Harrelson made--in my estimation--a somewhat dubious claim.

He and partner Darrin "D.J." Jackson were discussing the incredible out-of-the-box speed of Royals outfielder Joey Gathright. According to Jackson, Gathright has been clocked at 3.3 seconds to first on a bunt and 3.6 swinging. Pretty fast, huh?

Not to be left out, however, Hawk, as is his trademark, invoked the exploits of a player from his day--just to make sure none of the viewers would get the crazy idea that players today might be as good, or better, than those of yesteryear.

According to the Hawkmeister, the great Mickey Mantle was clocked at "three seconds flat" out of the left-handed batter's box. That's right--3.0 seconds. That is, 0.3 seconds, or 9% faster than one of the speediest players in the game today.

Consider: That corresponds to a rate of 10 yds/sec (ok, maybe 9.8 when you subtract the distance between home plate and the lefty batter's box). Now let me ask you this: How many times have you heard of an NFL player running a 4.0-40? Though, when you think about it, a 3.0-30 would actually correspond to a 40 time below 4.0 since the last ten yards are run at a higher velocity than the acceleration distance shared by both a 30-yard and 40-yard sprint.

Am I finished? Oh no.

The 100-meter world record in 1956--about the same time as Mantle's prime--was 10.1 seconds. Today, it's 9.72 because--get this--people are faster.

Let's pile on some more. What, if you had to guess, was the error tolerance on a mid-20th century stopwatch? A hundreth of a second? A tenth? Note that the 100-meter records weren't measured to the second decimal place until at least 1961. And I really doubt that whatever bench coach or scout recorded this alleged 3.0 home-to-first did not possess the cutting edge stopwatch technology that was used in the Olympics.

(Still going.) The depth of scouting--and therefore the accuracy of scouting--in Mantle's time was not nearly what it is today. I'd fancy that a Yankees coach with poor reaction time could have "timed" Mantle by counting to three on his fingers like the owl in the Tootsie Roll Pop commercial with very few, if any, checks by opposing scouts.

Also...

No... No, I think I've finally had enough. This was totally not worth the effort.

(Also, I bet Mickey Mantle never did this:



Mercy!)

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The last untapped angle of the Cubs-Sox interleague series

It's a Len Kasper-Steve Stone joke-off!

I think you can guess who got my vote.

(Here's a hint:



)

And if you didn't already know, Ryan Dempster's delivery is impeccable. But here's the twist--I'm not talking about his pitching delivery!

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Side-By-Side Comparison

The introduction paragraphs to the Sox-Angels game last night in today's Chicago Tribune, penned by Dave van Dyck.

"Carlos Quentin hit a pair of home runs Sunday night, including the game-winner to lead off the bottom of the ninth inning, as the White Sox avoided a sweep and
finished a short homestand by winning four of six games. Quentin's second shot gave the Sox a 3-2 victory over the Angels in a game that took only 2 hours 5 minutes and made them winners for the ninth time in 11 games."

Who, When, What, Where, and How all answered succinctly, and with enough context to give the reader some backstory. The Sox won a dramatic victory with a bottom of the ninth home run to end a short slide and get back to their winning ways. Compare to Phil Rogers' same opening paragraphs for the Cubs-Pirates game.

"Earth to Alfonso Soriano, come in please. Earth to Soriano...Earth to Soriano...report in please. About the only thing that didn't happen to the Cubs over the weekend at PNC Park was an alien abduction, and the persistent misadventures of Soriano left you wondering if the sun was the only thing in his eyes. Perhaps Soriano was distracted by a beam from a hovering spacecraft, which messed with his internal wiring, at the very least. Maybe he was switched with a clone, although he did look like his old self for one moment in Sunday's 6-5, 11 inning loss to the Pittsburgh Pirates."

Basic story information replaced with a dated "Earth to" joke, extraterrestrials added to the list of things blamed for a Cubs loss other than the players , and suspicion of human cloning of outfielders with mixed results.

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Pick-on-Hawk Week continues

Or cliched hyperbole-style:

"I swear... every break... on a bad call by an umpire... has gone against us on this road trip."

-Ken "Hawk" Harrelson, colorful and popular White Sox play-by-play announcer after a close force play during today's Giants-White Sox game

To be fair to Hawk, I never heard him complain about balls and strikes at any time throughout the scattered moments of today's game that I actually saw, which may have marked the first time I've watched a Sox game this year when I could say that. Of course, I only caught about three innings total, and I stake my spotless reputation on the probability that he uttered at least one, "Where was that pitch?" or, "That was a strike when Paulie was up there," over the course of today's game.

The point is, Hawk needs to understand something: the Major League Baseball Umpires Union does not have--nor has ever had--an organized conspiracy to screw over the Chicago White Sox. Go ahead--call me naive. Call me blind. Say I'm too trusting of authority. But I don't believe that sports umpires and officials--on the whole--show arbitrary bias in favor or against particular teams or players, with the exception of NBA officials' persistent effort to break the will of Rasheed Wallace.

I also believe it's statistically remote--to the point of being impossible--that luck has gone against the Sox on every single borderline call over the course of this baseball season (not to mention the past two seasons during which Hawk's whining has gradually escalated to where it is today).

And that leads me to the one plausible conclusion: Hawk Harrelson has a severe personality disorder and needs to be institutionalized.

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