Little League Chew

1993

It was almost Halloween time, and the Jays were in the World Series. In Game 1 of the '93 Fall Classic, the camera followed Philadelphia star Lenny Dykstra to first base after he hit safely into the outfield, and I saw him chewing something big and brown. It looked like caramel, but my Dad called it "Chew". I knew he was chewing, but what he was chewing I did not know.

So the next day, I grabbed a few toffees from the candy stash in the pantry and went to school to find my friends. Samir, Ryan, Rakesh and I stood behind the portables to talk about the game, which the Jays won ^_^, and about Lenny Dykstra's candy. We all had the same questions: What is it? Can you buy it at the store? Why doesn't he swallow it?

Finally, I remembered the toffees I took from home, and I pulled them out of my pocket. "Here are some toffees. I think he had a whole bunch in his mouth." I said to the group. "If you have a whole bunch in your mouth, maybe you can chew like that Dykstra guy!" I was the smartest one in the group, so...

We each took four toffees, which we pooled together from our individual candy stashes, and put them in our mouths.

"Make surb you chu Harg!" I gargled as I smacked my lips.
"Whab?" Samir asked.
"I said Chuu Harg!" We were chewing for a good minute, until Rakesh asked, "Okeg, now whaa?"
"Now, we spib!" I remembered Lenny Dykstra got a good, short, spit when he finished chewing, so each of us prepared a good collection of saliva and caramel in our mouths and spit!

Minutes later, we were in Mr. Lee's fifth grade class. When Mr. Lee spotted us at our desks, he turned his head and blinked at the caramel running from our lips, down our chins, and staining our shirts.
"What happened to you?" He asked us.
"Lebby Dykscrab" I answered.

Classic Post: Treason

I wrote this on April 5th, 2010 for my old blog, but I decided to post it again on H&E. Enjoy!

That is what she called it...treason.

Wearing my Nationals jersey, which I recently acquired with authentic patches and no number on the back, I walked downstairs and headed for the living room. Sure, the shirt was size 40 and too tight for my body, but I was stylin'. My older sister, who returned home from Boston for a visit, spotted me in my Washington Nationals gear and paused. I wore everything: Navy socks, navy jeans, road grey Nationals jersey with "Washington" printed in bold letters, Under Armour Coldgear navy mock underneath, and the authentic navy hat with the white "W" emblazoned on the front.

One word escaped her lips: Treason. The Nationals left the cozy confines of the Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec, several years before, but she remembered the day the Montreal Expos 'deserted' their loyal fans and left for the U.S. capital. Treason: For a Canadian to celebrate the departure of one of Canada's last professional sports franchises, much less an institution and symbol of pride in the province of Quebec, by wearing the clothes of their evil clone was an outrage.

I don't wear my Nationals gear around her anymore, nevertheless I don't find much use in wearing it now, save for my Nationals' hats. I waited my entire life for a baseball team that has the letter "W" for a logo; I'm not going to give that up.

I miss the Expos, though; I really do miss them. ESPN Classic still shows replays of "Blue Monday", which is the moniker for the disastrous defeat to the Dodgers in the decisive playoff in 1981, the closest the club ever got to a World Series. The team, which introduced Gary Carter, Steve Rogers, Andre Dawson, Larry Walker, Pedro Martinez, Larry Johnson, and Vladimir Guerrero to the baseball world, will hold a special place in my heart. I remember when the stars aligned for the Expos in 1994, and how no one in the National League could touch them as "Les Expos" coasted towards a 100-win season and a certain championship berth. However, the strike happened, and those dreams remained unfulfilled...

Perhaps my Yankees fan sister was right, but only if we do not remember and celebrate the history of Canada's first professional baseball team. They were a collection of "not quites" and renegades (see Larry Walker bio), symbolizing the ingenuity and never-say-quit attitude of Canadians, even while no one watched.

Here's to you, Youppi. Keep sliding...!

Youppi says for more on the Expos, go to your local library, Wikipedia, or ask Phil Wood (...What?)

NO to the Electronic Strike Zone!

There is more hoopla and controversy involving the on-field product of baseball with umpiring, once again, in the middle of the controversy. Here is a more recent example of what I'm talking about. Photos, too!

Furor over misjudged calls grows with each passing game, and calls for replays, reviews, coach's challenges, multiple camera angles, robot umpires, and (sigh) electronic strike zones increase with each passing day. The idea of Bud Selig as Commissioner over this great sport scares me, but the idea he might give into the pressure scares me even more!

I hate speaking in hypotheticals and contingencies because there is always another twist to the scenario laid out, but for the purpose of this blog I will. Radio hosts on the FAN590 here in Toronto take calls from disgruntled baseball fans about blown calls, and some suggest electronic strike zones, and to my amazement some of the hosts agree with them! While on paper this seems like a good idea, no one lives on paper alone (is that thunder?).

Suppose there is an electronic strike zone in baseball; what questions must you answer before Chad Qualls throws that pitch to Michael Young?

1) What purpose will the strike zone serve?
2) Where is the strike zone?
3) Who will use the strike zone?
4) When will the strike zone come into use? Duration?
5) How will you implement the strike zone?
6) Why is there a strike zone?

Do you feel it, too? That feeling of knowing something no one else does? It gives you a sense of power, doesn't it? Maybe, however, that feeling is an illusion, for that information you guard is known to everyone including the batter! I call that feeling CORRUPTION.

The strike zone, and not the umpire, will judge whether Chad Qualls' pitch will be a ball or a strike. Until Qualls pitches, the ball is neither, so Qualls must decide whether the pitch will be a ball or a strike. Therefore, its "identity" will be a secret until Qualls releases the ball. A computer gauges the flight of the ball as it proceeds towards Michael Young, and then gives information to whom? A central computer, yes, but whose computer? The Rays' computer or the Rangers' computer? From there, who will know if Qualls' throw is a strike? Another umpire, the P.A. announcer, the managers, the fans, or perish the thought, the other players?

We must also know where exactly the ball is in the strike zone, too. How high or low in the strike zone is the ball? Dead center or across the street? Who decides how large or small the strike zone must be, for every player is different in body type and batting stance. My friend from softball (Hi In-Ting) and I love to mimic our favourite baseball players from David Ortiz's post-hit bat waggle to A-Rod's glare. The strike zone must account for every nuance and angle, so it would be fair to regulate an "average" strike zone to suit all players. However, for every player to assist in finding an average strike zone every player must know where the strike zone is.

Thus, there is a conundrum: If there is an electronic strike zone, then the strikeout will become all but extinct. If the pitcher can't win, then what will he throw? If the batter knows that pitch is a strike and misses, what will happen to him after the game when the coach asks him to come into his office? If the information about each pitch is for us, what human emotion will prevent the fan from supporting his player in the bottom of the ninth and yelling "DON'T SWING"?

At its core, replays, reviews, coach's challenges, multiple camera angles, robot umpires, and electronic strike zones IN BASEBALL have the same problems. Plus, the caveat lector is there is no discernable link or proof that play or pitch will force a certain result on the next play or pitch. On Qualls' next pitch, Michael Young hit a three-run homerun. There is no before the fact argument one can make to suggest one blown call "led to" a homerun. When things happen after the fact, however, we yell in the face of the umpires, we scream "Replay" from the stands, and we bombard local radio stations with angry calls for electronic strike zones.

Isn't baseball wonderful? Do you see? This is why we go to the game, why we watch with baited breath every hit & error, why we disagree with every borderline pitch, and why we call the radio stations the next morning. If the Yankees lost to the Blue Jays 5-3 because they lost 5-3 no one would watch, because there was no human connection to draw us into the game. If instant replay or electronic strike zones came into baseball to prevent errors, would we stop with just umpires? How about Cristian Guzman, or little league baseball players (The LLWS is using replay because grown-ups make mistakes, but kids don't. Televised LLWS bases its programming on errors and crying kids; what kind of message is that to send)?

Posey & The Steal: Homecooking or Comedy of Errors

Mark Bowman writes a good blog on the Braves website: Click here to read it!

Homecooking?! You decide!

When Buster Posey of the San Francisco Giants stole second base in the 4th inning in Game 1 of the 2010 National League Division Series between the hometown Giants and the Atlanta Braves, replay shows Atlanta second baseman Martin Prado tagged Posey's midsection before the runner touches the bag. Umpire Paul Emmel, who covered second base that night, incorrectly ruled the play 'safe'. Subsequently, Posey scored on a basehit in the same inning, and the Giants defeated the Braves by the 1-0 scoreline. Before we get into issues of replay and challenges, why not consider the following:

1) The Throw

When picking off a runner, who attempts to steal a base, the catcher delivers the ball in close proximity to the right of second base. In this manner, the second baseman or shortstop catches the ball directly above the closest portion of the base the runner attempt to touch (From the catcher's viewpoint). However, in the Posey play Braves catcher McCann throws the ball too far to the right, and forces Prado to bring the ball back across his body to apply the tag.

2) The Umpire

In any play involving a runner attempting to steal second base, the umpire is already standing at four o'clock position relative to the base. Here are a few examples I found on MLB.com :)

a) Molina (TEX) catches Izturis (LAA) stealing
b) Wieters (BAL) catches Jennings (TB) stealing. The throw forces the shortstop to catch across his body, but he applies the tag at the runner's foot, and the umpire gives the benefit of the doubt. If you remain on the link, MLB.com provides other similar examples of runners being caught stealing.

During Posey's steal attempt, the umpire is running with haste towards the bag to get a good view. When you weigh in McCann's throw, the umpire's vision obscured by Posey's body, and Prado's unusual tag you have a recipe for disaster.

2) The Score

Whatever the Giants do on offense has no bearing on the Braves' offensive performance. San Francisco's starting pitcher Lincecum threw a complete game shutout and struck out fourteen Atlanta Braves' batters; it would be difficult to argue the blown call at second base led to the Braves losing the ball game.

3) McCann catches Huff

If you saw Giants' runner Aubrey Huff in the eighth inning caught stealing by McCann, then that is the proper technique for catching stealers at second base.

For more on this game and others, check out this link to the photo gallery and MLB.com

Dad visits Fenway Park

Aiya...

If you are not careful, you could walk right past and not know it. It was warm, clear April afternoon when my Dad and I spotted the pine green paint of the old building on Yawkey street. Crossing onto Van Ness, I took as many low resolution pictures as I could. There is something about one hundred year old stadiums you can't find in modern sports palaces of today. I'm not talking about the history, particular moments, or players that made these theaters roar. Rather, it is the smell.


Dad asked if this was the place Babe Ruth built. I looked at him like he was crazy, and then shook my head. "Wrong place" I said to him, and we continued on. There are pennants numbered with specific years on the west side of Fenway Park facing the row of Pro Shops and sweat shacks across the street. Numbers such as 2007, 2004, and 1918 are printed on red flags, but other numbers like 1946, 1975, and 1986 are on navy flags. I stopped at 1986 to take a picture; it's a bad one...I think I have it somewhere on my camera.

Before stepping onto Brookline, I told Dad "I suppose I would need to choose between Red Sox and Yankees now." My older sister went to Fenway Park many times since moving to Boston. However, she lived in New York before this, and when the Jays started losing she started supporting the Yankees. "Never wear a Yankees hat in Boston" She told me once, "Under ANY circumstance". I wore my Pittsburgh Pirates jersey at the time, and I did receive some looks. "These guys sure hold a grudge." I said to Dad as we walked along the outside of the Green Monster, "The 1903 World Series was only 107 years ago, but they will not let things go." I checked my camera again before taking another picture of Bostonians walking up and down the terraces of the left-field wall. Dad shook his head as we looked up at the structure, and said "it's not that tall."

Before reaching Lansdowne, I spot a sign...
"No charge?" I utter. Without asking, I run inside the restaurant and find the nearest and largest mesh fence leading to the inside of Fenway Park. At first, I just stood there and looked; almost like that first night out to sea from Buenos Aires, only it is daylight and no stars are out (not even the baseball kind). I pulled out my camera and started recording a video; at first I take shots of the stadium behind the fence, and then try fitting the lens through the mesh capture the whole of the stadium: The Green Monster, the stand behind home plate, the championship pennants, the red coloured seats, and that pine green around the ballpark. I was so happy I wanted the whole world in my hands, even if Dad said "the place is too small", and how "television makes it larger than it actually is". The manager said he needed to close the fence because flies were buzzing into his eatery, nevertheless it was time to leave.


Dad asks if the guy in the picture up ahead is Lou Gehrig. I look at the picture of Ted Williams and do a vintage "Jean-Luc Picard" facepalm. Then, Dad asked me "Who is Ted Williams?" Double Facepalm.

That was only last Tuesday when Dad and I went to Fenway Park. He still asks questions about sports, and I answer some and facepalm others. Much like that old ballpark in Boston, I doubt he will ever change.
That's him walking down the street beside Fenway Park, by the way.