The bats have fallen silent. After last Wednesday game seven we shall not hear the thwack of a well-struck ball or the thwap of a fastball finding the back of a mitt until the middle of February. No more box scores with morning coffee. No more late night West coast games as an excuse for staying up too late. No more double plays, no hit and runs and no grand slams about four months. Rogers Hornsby once said “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” There are 102 days to go until we get back to baseball and I will be counting down the days.
It has been a fantastic season. For my Orioles, we made the playoff wild card game and then dropped it to Toronto, but it was a winning year with some solid highlights. Zach Britton saved 47 out of 47 opportunities. Mark Trumbo led the league in home runs. Manny Machado gave us another season of Manny. Gausman and Bundy developed solidly. The bullpen as strong. We need to get some front line pitching and will probably have some free agent loss to replace, but I like our team and look forward to spring training.
The Cubs had themselves a year. The fairy tale came true down on Addison and Clark as Wrigley Filed at long last turned into Cinderella’s castle. The team that Theo built was the best in baseball with 203 wins. If you play in the National League, you have to be concerned because that team is young and free agents are going to have the Chubs high on their list of preferred teams.
The playoffs were as good as gets. The Indians were a juggernaut rolling over two hard slugging teams in Toronto and Boston and then gave the Cubs everything they could handle in the World Series. We will also see them again in the playoff picture for the next few years. The World Series was one of the best you will ever see, and I got to go to a game with my daughter. All in all a great year of baseball.
There were some questions as well including:
What the Fuck happened to Bryce Harper? He is better than he played for much of the year.
What the hell was Jose Fernandez thinking?
What in the fresh hell prompted Dan Duquette to trade for Wade Smiley? For that matter when do you get smart and just eat the contract on Ubaldo?
Will Giancarlo Stanton ever play a full year?
How did Tamp Bay get so little from such strong pitchers?
Why is Manny Machado avoiding talking about a long-term extension with Baltimore?
How good is Gary Sanchez going to be and how good will that makes the Yankees?
For now, the season is over, and the question is just something to talk about over the winter. There will be distractions, and I will stay on top of the Hot Stove League, watching MLB Tonight to keep track of all the maneuvering. I have a mild interest in college basketball, and we have several weeks of Navy Football left to follow. There are lots of books to read and some series the wife wants to binge watch now that there are no games on every night. There will be weather report to send to my Northern friends shortly in my annual ritual and tracking the snowfall in daughter Chicago neighborhood is always amusing. But there will be no baseball.
It will be back. There will be therapeutic afternoons in the stands of major and minor league professional baseball. There will be spring training afternoons and beach bar nights over in Sarasota in just 101 days or so. There will be box scores and radio broadcasts and the Orioles on MLB-TV on my phone just a surely as the sun will come up tomorrow. As sure as the heart of a politicians heart is black Baseball will return. But for today there is no baseball.
And I don’t fucking like it one little bit.
You don’t know. You don’t know who will win the World Series next week. You don’t know which teams will play in the Super Bowl. You don’t even know who will win the election in a few weeks. You don’t know what the stock market will do in 2017. Hell, you don’t even know what the stock market will do on Monday. You don’t know any of these things. You may have an opinion, belief or hope but you do not know. But you like to pretend you do.
You don’t know if which is worse for those looking to unwind at the end of the day, a bong hit or a bourbon. You don’t know who I should love or how I should love them. You don’t know what best for my children. You have no clue what is best for my body. Hell, you don’t even know if coffee is good for me or killing me on sip at a time. You have no clue where I should live or how I should earn my living. But you like to pretend you do.
You have no idea if God Exists. If God is real, you have no idea what she wants from us. You have no idea what the voice of God sounds like but God is not talking to you. You have no idea what the meaning of life is. You do not know what God looks like. You have no clue what God created all of this. You may have deep beliefs and an unshakeable faith, but you do not know. Of course, that’s no reason not to pretend that you do know, is it?
If you want to have your beliefs about God, life and everything else that would be just fine with me. But that’s not enough for you, is it? I have to believe exactly as you do or I am a heretic, a godless heathen; I am going to burn in hell, roast in the eternal fires weeping and gnashing my teeth while you wither quietly strum your harp or screw your brains out with all those virgins depending which story you chose to favor. What’s all the hype about virgins anyway? I find highly unlikely than any of the 72 know how to give a solid blowjob for know about the reverse cowgirl so I can’t imagine it is going to be all that much fun. Teaching 72 women the doctrine of “No Teeth” seems almost arduous to me. And the harp is one of the most overrated and boring instruments of all time. Of course none of that matters I must believe as you or am condemned for all time.
Naturally, I must also agree with all your thoughts about how to runs society and the world as well. Should my beliefs be different than yours I am a fag loving pothead communist fuck head or a racist, bigot, misogynist, genderist fuck head. I have to agree with every scrap of dogma your political leaders spoon feed you or I am unfit to be a citizen of the country or live in this world. You know exactly how much of my money should go to support your particular cause or invasion and if I don’t it like I can go to jail or better yet, just go straight to hell. Because your side knows what best and there is no room for disagreement. You know what’s best and you are going to do it for the children. And by the way that includes my kids even if I don’t like it.
Three little words would make the world a much better place. I don’t know. I don’t know who God is. I have my ideas, but I won’t force them on you because the reality is I am not sure. I have an idea of how I should live my life but have no clue how you should live yours so I’ll just let you go about your business as long as it cause me no harm. I know who I like to have sex with, but I do not know your preference so I will just get along your way and best of luck to ya. I understand how I like to spend my money but simply do not know what is best for you. I know what kind of things I like to eat and drink but have no idea what your choices might be so “Cheers.” Enjoy whatever you choose. I know what I think life is about but have no clue whatsoever what it all means and the point and purpose of it all so I will just live my life in accordance with my thoughts, hopes, and dreams and leave you alone to do the same.
I don’t know would solve a lot of the world’s problems. Why won’t more people just say the three magic words?
I just don’t fucking know.
This is the year I stopped giving a shit about the NFL. It has been coming for some time as my interest in the game has faded the past few years. I knew I had crossed over into Notgiveashitstan when I looked at the cable bill and realized that under no circumstances did I think the NFL package on Direct TV was worth $45 a month. I canceled that day and decided just to settle for whatever local game was on. The problem with that is that I live in Florida and all of the local teams are horrid. I figured given my love of all things Pirate, the Buccaneers over in Tampa would be a natural choice until I tried to watch a game. I was asleep on the couch before halftime. It was just boring football.
It is not that I don’t still like football. I am still a huge fan of the college games, and there is a lot of yelling and screaming going on here when one of the two teams of my youth are playing. Being an Irish Catholic kid in the 1960s growing up in Annapolis, Maryland I root for Navy and Notre Dame, although the Irish are making it a little difficult this year. I have adopted the Florida Gators as my instate team and although they can be hard to watch they play incredible defense which has always been my favorite part of the game. Plus I look fantastic in Blue and Orange.
However, the Pro game has become boring. All the rule changes to make it safer have turned the games into flag fests. They have also turned the defense into bystanders. Let me let you in on a little secret. Football is not a safe sport, and everyone on that field knows it. It is not like they are gladiators in ancient Rome taken as slaves and forced to fight. Each and every one of them has worked their whole life to get exactly where they are. They love the game, and they love the money. If you told them they had to play with no pads and leather helmets, they would still play. It is like boxing in the 1950s and 1960. It is dangerous, and you can hurt but if you succeed you succeed beyond your wildest dreams. We watch NASCAR for crashes and Pro Football for the big hits. Take the violence out of football, and we might as well be a bunch of Englishman sitting around sipping tea and watching soccer.
The league has also made it against the rules to have a personality. No uniform additions. No end zone celebrations. No taunting whatever the fuck that is. No excessive celebrations. Mr. Goodell, nothing exceeds like excess and trying to turn an NFL game into a dull day at the office takes half the fun out of the game.
Of course, in today’s world of participation trophies, we have parity rules to make sure every team has a chance. All parity rules have done is ensure that there is a whole lot mediocre football played each and every Sunday. It takes a rare combination of coach and owner found pretty much only in New England these days to consistently field a good team year in and year out.
I grew up with the Baltimore Colts. We had Johnny Unitas and Raymond Berry doing things that had never been done. We had Bubba Smith and Artie Donovan, Mike Curtis, Ted Hendricks and Rick Volk. They were blue collar guys who played smash mouth football in the world’s largest outdoor zoo on 333rd street. They didn’t always win, but they won a lot a lot, and they were fun to watch. And then in 1983 the moving fans showed, and they were gone.
I moved out west after that and while I followed the 49ers and admired how great those Bill Walsh teams were I was not a rabid fan. I went to a few games while I was out there but that was because I was given tickets. I never bought a ticket to a game in the five years or so I was in California.
I had a football renaissance of sorts when I lived on Kent Island in Maryland from about 2000 to 2010. Baltimore had the Ravens, and they were defensive wunderkinds in the last era where you were allowed to kick ass on the defensive side of the field. Football was also a huge social thing in the fall and winter. The boats were in storage; it was cold, and there is not a hell of a lot to do in a boating town when the boats are out of the water, so football took center stage. If you had tickets you were at the game and if you didn’t you were at Annies or Lukes to watch football with a bunch of friends, eating lots of food and above all drinking a lot of beer. There were Ravens fans and Redskins fans in the area and the taunting while good natured was endless. It was a hell of a good time with a bunch of great friends, and I became a serious NFL Fan. Fantasy Football was a blood sport played for a pretty good amount of money, and that helped further energize Sunday afternoons.
When I moved to Florida, I lost a lot of the social aspect of the game. I found some bars in the areas that are Ravens fan bars and of course the local sports bars all have pretty good Sunday crowds, but I lack the motivation to bother. My days of drinking all day Sunday and being moderately functional before Tuesday are behind me now. My wife would probably happily drive me to the game just to get me out from underfoot, but I prefer to stay home. I would rather putter around the office, doing some research, maybe read a book and get a decent nap in then spend the day in a bar watching bad football.
The NFL is now on the same level as the NBA for me. I can catch the highlights on Sports Center, and that’s all I need. I will probably watch the championship games and the Super Bowl, but I won’t care who wins. I will spend the offseason like Hal of Famer Rogers Hornsby who once said “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.
It is a combination of things- the rule changes, restriction on the defense, parity driven mediocrity and yes, the lack of the social environment, but this is the year I stopped giving a shit about the NFL
It has been some many months since I penned the Field Guide Part One. As we edge ever closer to the circus that we so grandly call the electoral process it seem wise to turn our eyes once gain to the Sage of Baltimore for some keen observations and perhaps a shred of advice for dealing with the sewer of shit and dogmatic politics that is the current state of American Politics and Government.
I suspect Mencken would be appalled to see the mess we have made of the American system of government and politics. Much of what he warned us about has indeed to come to pass, and I do not think he would like the world he saw before him. Back in 1920, he wrote “The American of today, in fact, probably enjoys less personal liberty than any other man of Christendom, and even his political liberty is fast succumbing to the new dogma that certain theories of government are virtuous and lawful, and others abhorrent and felonious. Laws limiting the radius of his free activity multiply year by year: It is now practically impossible for him to exhibit anything describable as genuine individuality, either in action or in thought, without running afoul of some harsh and unintelligible penalty. It would surprise no impartial observer if the motto “In God we trust” were one day expunged from the coins of the republic by the Junkers at Washington, and the far more appropriate word, “verboten,” substituted. Nor would it astound any save the most romantic if, at the same time, the goddess of liberty were taken off the silver dollars to make room for a bas-relief of a policeman in a spiked helmet. Moreover, this gradual (and, of late, rapidly progressive) decay of freedom goes almost without challenge; the American has grown so accustomed to the denial of his constitutional rights and to the minute regulation of his conduct by swarms of spies, letter-openers, informers and agents provocateurs that he no longer makes any serious protest.”
How much less personal liberty does the average American have today? He is told by various overseers what color he must paint his house and landscape his yard. He must wear a seat when operating his automobile, and only the foulest black-hearted bastard would allow their child to enjoy the pure pleasure of riding a bike without a helmet as well as pads about the knees and elbow. He does not dare light a cigarette in his own office. There are those among us who would restrict the size of the soda she buys at the convenience store. City dwellers are under almost constant observation from cameras of one sort of another when outside of their home. Government agencies can listen to every single phone conversation you have and see every file stored on your computer at will. We must buy certain insurance contracts is we wish to move about in public and avoid certain penalties. We can only use intoxicants that are on the approved list. Every law, rule, and regulation passed by the US Congress down your homeowners association restricts out personal liberties, and we are not doing one single thing to stop it. As long as we the people have the internet, cable TV and cheap beer we just do not give a flying fuck.
Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want and deserve to get it good and hard.
This is the new essence of American Politics and government. We were not supposed to be a democracy. The founding fathers were afraid of pure democracy and turned to the Republican form of government. Citizens would elect learned and earnest men who would vote upon the matters of state and reach common sense solutions. Unfortunately, the learned and sincere men have become money grubbing shit holes whose entire purpose in life is getting re-elected to keep the money and blow jobs flowing in their direction. The founders feared this and created two houses of the legislature with only one house with very short terms of office and one with a longer term that governors and state legislatures would send to Washington to protect the interest of the state and its citizens. For the first 125 years o National existence this worked very well. So well, in fact, the politicians realized that doing away with this provision and allowing a direct election for both houses opened up a whole new path to personal prosperity. Now they could browbeat and scaremonger the general public into longer and more lucrative term of government. So in 1913 it was changed to allow direct election of Senators. The ordinary people of the unwashed electorate were now firmly in charge of the electoral process.
What does the great unwashed want? Whatever they can get. What will they settle for? As near I can tell the answer involves cable TV and beer. The public is being bent over double by elected officials, and their massive bureaucracy is giving it to the common good and hard every day and the public not only takes it they cheer for some of these morons and swear allegiance to their own destruction. If a politician can convince one sector f the Convinced that he is their champion he becomes not a mere money grubbing man but a disciple of truth justice and the American Way even as he violates them in the vilest of manners.
The fact is that the average man’s love of liberty is nine-tenths imaginary, exactly like his love of sense, justice, and truth.
Here is the truth of it all. We profess to love liberty, but liberty carries an awesome and awful responsibility for our own actions. If we are free, we have to accept the consequences of our choices. If we fuck up and get fired or lose our business we are on our own. If we make a wrong decision it is on our own heads and no one else is responsible. We have to actually read and think, tasks that scare the average person absolutely stone cold shit less. Our survival and prosperity then depend on our own achievements and efforts with no assistance. If we cannot make enough to buy the things we want, we silly will not have them. If we start a business that harms people or treats them poorly, then the failure is on our own head, and there will be no bailout. The free man pays his own way and is responsible for his own actions. If someone else achieves more than we do there is nothing the free man can do but strive harder to achieve more. Very few want that and will gladly trade the liberty to avoid the responsibility.
The kind of man who wants the government to adopt and enforce his ideas is always the kind of man whose ideas are idiotic.
The ugly truth is that anyone who files to run for office should be automatically disqualified for moral reasons. Politicians are right there with religious leaders as members of the Absolutely Convinced that for some strange, bizarre set of reasons thinks they know more about how you should live your life than you do. The idea that someone could make their own decisions about where to live, where to work, how to raise their kids, what to drink or eat, who and how to love is a pure puzzlement to them. They have conversed with the universe and deities and are the truly enlightened that can you lead down to the path of righteousness and prosperity. All too often the path will result in unfettered imbecility and a great deal of ass raping.
The best person to guide your life is you. As long as your actions are Hippocratic in nature and do no harm, then your politics should be based on the concepts of “Leave Me the Fuck Alone, and I will do the same for you” than any of the drivel produced by these two criminal gangs.
There are very few days in your life that could not be improved by the introduction of a plate of chicken fried steak and eggs. It is simply the best thing one can eat with all your basic food groups well represented. You have your meats in the form of a deliciously prepared cheap cut of steak tenderized viciously and then deep fried like one of Colonel Sanders victims. You have your gravy group in the form of the delicious sausage gravy slathered over the harshly tenderized cheap steak. Your vegetables are there with your perfectly fried hashbrowns and you have your biscuit group that possibly includes more gravy depending on the size of your appetite that particular day. And of course, you have your eggs which all know are healthy and good for you. All sorts of healthy outcomes are attributed to coffee so I usually wash mine down with a hot cup of joe.
In the midst of the worst truly awful, fuck the world I want to get off, day a good plate f chicken friend steak eggs with the proper trimmings can quickly and easily take the edge off the pain and suffering. It may not eliminate your problems but it should improve your mood at least until its late enough in the day to begin indulging in the age-old art of drinking one’s problems away.
I came across an excellent chicken friend joint last week on my way to Sanibel and my wife filed her usual thorough Yelp review.I ma a non-Yelper but she is a fan of the service. She wrote :
Six years ago I married this guy named Tim. Tim is a man with a passion. A passion for Diners. Now, do not be confused. By diner, I do not mean “Cracker Barrel” or “First Watch”. The occasional visit to a “Waffle House” will somewhat satisfy his diner addiction. But, what he truly desires is the type of greasy spoon one can usually only find on the back roads of small-town America. The Dundee Diner is one such establishment. Whenever we go on a trip, it is his mission to seek out and enjoy the cuisine of every mom-and-pop joint we come across. I cannot deny that I have aided and abetted this habit utilizing my skills on Yelp and Google. And, that is how we were lucky enough to stumble upon the Dundee Diner! Some folks may think it would be hard to mess up a simple breakfast of eggs and meat products but, let me set the record straight. A great diner is hard to find. This morning we hit the jackpot! We were greeted by very friendly staff, kept happy with a super server named Tasha who was quick to fill the coffee and checked on us throughout the meal. The grits were hot and delicious (says me- the Mister can’t stand grits). The eggs were fresh and perfectly cooked and the sausage patties and country fried steak were amazing! The homemade biscuits also hit the mark!! Overall, we thought the place was perfect and if you ever find yourself in the town of Dundee, FL (population 3,717) make sure and stop in at the diner. You won’t be disappointed!! Even if your husband is a diner connoisseur like mine!!
Chicken Fried and eggs. Getcha some.
Extend Us The Same Courtesy We Extend You
From the wife last week after my daughter was here for a week I’ve decided that everyone should have a Melvin. I have been blessed with three…
The End of The Line by the Traveling Wilburys
All the different places we can find answers