A Stupefying Loss
April 25, 2008
We may be moping around after the Flyers were cheated out of a win last night by the referees, but even our disappointment cannot compare to that of young goaltender Michael Leighton:
The Phantoms set franchise records for shots by beating host Albany, 3-2, in a staggering fifth overtime in the longest American Hockey League game ever played. The Phantoms took an even more staggering 101 shots to obliterate their previous playoff record of 64.
The shot that counted came from Ryan Potulny 2 minutes, 58 seconds into the fifth OT to give the Phantoms a three-games-to-two lead in the AHL East semifinal series.
River Rats goaltender Michael Leighton stopped a stupefying 98 shots. And lost!
The marathon was the first AHL game ever to reach a fifth overtime. The previous record was 114 minutes, 56 seconds (74:56 of overtime) on May 30, 2003, when Hamilton beat Houston, 2-1.
Game 6 is scheduled for 1:05 p.m. tomorrow at the Wachovia Center.
For the unitiated, the average goaltender sees about 30 shots a game, and still lets in about 3 of them. That’s a hard luck loss right there. After 100 shots, I imagine he was just damn tired.
Thursday Night Marauding
April 24, 2008
What to do tonight? Find your favorite pub with TVs, and watch the Flyers take on the Habs in Game 1. We’ll be getting our first taste of the new Memphis Taproom.
My Own Private Liquor Store
April 24, 2008
Lew Bryson wants to dismantle the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board:
The PLCB exists because at the time of Repeal, Pennsylvania had a governor, Gifford Pinchot, who still ardently believed in Prohibition, and a legislature that believed Repeal may well be temporary and that Prohibition was still a strong political force — to be fair, a belief that was prevalent in the day. Few people knew that Prohibition as a political force was deader than a doornail, in a state of complete collapse.
Working with what they knew, Pennsylvania’s legislators put together a “control” system that was actually fairly common among states. They would control all sales of wine and liquor (note that beer was not included) through state-run stores. The clerks would simply deliver the bottle; they would not make recommendations of any one brand over another, a policy rooted in a brute force approach to fairness that would unfortunately lead to a total lack of any kind of service mentality. “We got it, you want it: play by our rules or get lost” was the attitude that ruled in the State Stores, and largely still does, despite the recent development of a human face.
The PLCB justifies itself by the revenues it brings in, by the supposition that it ‘controls’ abusive and underage drinking better than privately-owned businesses would, and by the money it “infuses” into the state economy by paying landlords for leases on the stores and the wages it pays its employees. It is a system that works so well that Pennsylvania is surrounded by great liquor stores across its borders.
I say we take it down.
If nothing else, you have to love Lew’s enthusiasm. He’s right, too. PA possesses some of the more archaic liquor laws around, and just about everyone in the Philadelphia area (at least, the ones who are into wine and liquor, and even beer) have headed down to Delaware and Maryland, or just across the river to New Jersey, for the better selections and (often) better prices of private liquor merchants.
Naturally, Pennsylvania, being a government and all, is slow to change, especially in regards to making drinks with alcohol more available to its residents (after all, think of the children!). So, even though Lew is getting plenty of support, this is going to take time. There are a lot of surrounding issues for privatizing liquor sales (for instance, the state employs a lot of people in those stores), but we have no doubt that between now and the Rapture, Uncle Lew will cover most of them.
Of course, the next question, the next step can only be: who is going to go undercover in the enemy’s lair?
Playing Favorites, NL
April 23, 2008
Here we go with the overly long follow up to Sunday’s AL-edition of this meme.
ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS
Who. Mike Fetters
Why: A few Twins fans might remember him, and everyone else just sort knows him as a journeyman reliever. However, he was a beloved pitcher among the members of my uber-competitive Summer/Fall 2002 Wiffle Ball League. Why? Because Fetters took the mound standing upright, facing third, and then would sharply snap his head toward home to take the sign. There was something comical about this, and by the end of the year, every wiffle pitcher dabbled in Mike Fetters impressions.
Wear the Jersey? Despite the semi-hideous nature of the 2002 D-back uniforms, I probably would.
COLORADO ROCKIES
Who. Bret Saberhagen.
Why: I don’t feel good about this. There are plenty of guys on and off this list for whom I have more affection than Saberhagen. But, truly, I can’t think of a single damn Rockie for whom I have any positive feelings at all. Maybe one of the big cats. But probably not.
Wear the Jersey? No. Definitely not, for every possible reason.
SAN DIEGO PADRES
Who. Andy Ashby.
Why: Doesn’t everyone like Andy Ashby?
Wear the Jersey? Nah.
LOS ANGELES DODGERS
Who. Orel Herschiser.
Why: Nerdy pitcher, and holder of one of the more impressive records in baseball: 59 scoreless innings.
Wear the Jersey? Eh, probably not.
SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS
Who. Juan Marichal.
Why: There are just too many things to love about the Dominican Dandy. The high leg kick, the blazing fastball, the clubbing of Johnny Roseboro, the general insanity.
Wear the Jersey? With pride.
CHICAGO CUBS
Who. Andre Dawson.
Why: As a child, it would’ve been Ryne Sandberg, who played second well and could hit a bit. But the older I’ve gotten, the more unbearable (to me, at least) Sandberg has become. So, with all that in mind, I choose Andre Dawson, who, of course, is at the tops of the list of players who were more exciting than good.
Wear the Jersey? No.
MILWAUKEE BREWERS
Who. Rob Deer.
Why: Like there’s any other choice. I’m a longstanding member in the Rob Deer Fan Club.
Wear the Jersey? 8 days a week.
PITTSBURGH PIRATES
Who. Bobby Bonilla.
Why: In my mind, as a child, he was Barry Bonds, but bigger, stronger, and, therefore, “better”.
Wear the Jersey? Almost certainly not.
HOUSTON ASTROS
Who. Roy Oswalt.
Why: I like that Drayton McLane gave him a tractor after winning a playoff game. I once read a story about Oswalt that mentioned that he intended to retire after his 10th year in the majors so he could go back home and farm. I loved that story. Of course, that story changed a bit when the Astros decided to give him $73 million, but, maybe, just maybe, he’ll walk away from it all after the 2010 season, anyway. It’s not that I really want him to retire. I just like the mythology of it.
Wear the Jersey? Maybe. I’d probably wear that red alternate jersey.
ST LOUIS CARDINALS
Who. Ray Lankford.
Why: Excellent player, though overlooked while discussing the better players of the 1990s. Looking around at Cardinals outfielders, they’ve really had an impressive string of players manning CF. Stretching back to the late 1970s, they’ve had George Hendrick, then Willie McGee, then Ray Lankford, then Jim Edmonds, and now Rick Ankiel. There was also a year of the young JD Drew in there. None of these guys are Hall of Famers, but, really, the Cardinals have hardly had a complaint about CF in 30 years.
Wear the Jersey? Probably not. Something about the team just rubs me the wrong way.
CINCINNATI REDS
Who: Joe Morgan.
Why: The Reds, honestly, have an extraordinary number of people to choose from. Adam Dunn!, screams the RDFC member inside me. Pete Rose is about as much fun to watch (ya know, as a player) as anyone I can think of. Johnny Bench is, justifiably, a legendary player, and the absolute pinnacle of his position. But Joe Morgan, despite the frequent crotchety insanity of his broadcasting, was, I think, an even better second baseman than many people realize. This is a Hall of Famer, with a couple of MVP awards, and a place of honor on one of history’s great teams, and I’m saying he might be a touch underrated. Joe recently remarked that Utley might be one of the better second basemen in baseball history. I’m not even sure if Joe’s considerable ego realizes how much better Utley has to get to justify the comparison. And Utley is, like, really, really good.
Wear the Jersey? Almost certainly.
NEW YORK METS
Who. Tom Glavine, but only if I can get some kind of mention of his final start as a Met. Otherwise, Turk Wendell.
Why: Glavine’s lousy performance gave the division to the Phils on the final day of the season, before the Phils even started playing a must-win game. Turk Wendell just batshit crazy.
Wear the Jersey? Glavine, almost certainly not. I don’t actually like him, I just like what he ended up doing for my favorite team. Wendell, maybe. Definitely while drunk.
ATLANTA BRAVES
Who. Greg Maddux.
Why: There are so many reasons to love Maddux. The speed at which the games he pitches move along (quickly), the absolute dominance of his career, the longevity, the stories of him peeing on rookies in the shower. Really, he’s the whole package.
Wear the Jersey? Really, my anti-Wahoo sentiments (perhaps best expressed by the second song here), extend to Braves and the Redskins and the rest of the clubs that use Native American stereotypes. It’s silly, and dumb.
WASHINGTON NATIONALS
Who. Walter Johnson
Why: I have no interest in considering the Nationals to be the same thing as the Montreal Expos, and though I’m too young to remember the old Washington Senators, the Nats are too young to have earned my affection. Incidentally, are there any pictures of Johnson pitching? Or was his pitching motion just that relaxed? All the Google images are like the one I’ve got, or pics of him looking like he’s just lobbing a ball, as if to a small child.
Wear the Jersey? Depending on which one. I’ve got mixed feelings about that collar.
MONTREAL EXPOS
Who. Vlad Guerrero.
Why: Vlad is everything Andre Dawson fans wish Dawson was. Or, at least, as an Expo, he was. Absolutely incredible arm and bat, and, once, an excellent fielder. Absolutely unique style of play (as shown by the fact that no scout will ever write the words “looks like a young Vlad Guerrero” about a prospect). Somehow, despite swinging at everything, he’s walked more than he’s struck out 4 times in his career. Arguably, the most exciting player of my lifetime, thus far.
Wear the Jersey? I’d even dance with Youppi while wearing it.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES
Who. Michael Jack Schmidt.
Why: I love Chase Utley. I love Jimmy Rollin’s charisma. I love everything about Pat Burrell. I love the nostalgia of Richie Ashburn, and I miss having him in the booth. I love Steve Carlton’s slider, and that he was a pioneer in the field of “personal catchers”. I loved both Curt Schilling’s mouth and his fastball, and how he signed autographs when the grocery store near my parents’ house opened up. I’ve had bizarre adorations of Mickey Morandini, who could field and hit triples, and David Bell, who could field. I loved Dykstra. I love, love, love, Tug McGraw (”Tug, do you prefer grass or astroturf?” “I don’t know. I never smoked no astroturf.”). I loved John Kruk, as a player. I even loved Geoff Geary’s shortlived, up-and-down, middle relief career as a Phillie. I loved the disaster that was Turk Wendell. I rooted so hard I’m sure I’ve ground my teeth down to flat stones while watching Joe Table collapse time and time again. I can name hundreds of Phillies players, many of whom played before I was born.
But there is only one God, and his name is Mike Schmidt.
Wear the Jersey? You bet your ass.
Squeezing the Zone
April 22, 2008
We’ll get onto the Playing Favorites in the NL soon, but for now, just a quick Pitch F/x aside. I was at the Phils - Mets tilt featuring Johan Santana and Cole Hamels on April 18th. The two were pretty even in their handling of the opponent lineups, until the 8th inning, when the opponents started handling them.
Two men in the row behind me commented that the umpire, Brian Runge, appeared to be squeezing the strike zone on Hamels, or stretching it a bit for Santana. I’m not sure if any of the wizards at Baseball Prospectus or elsewhere have tracked any sort of tendency among umpires to give better calls to the larger celebrity among players, and we’re not about to go in a full-blown study here, but we can at least look at the location of the calls from that game for both pitchers.
All these charts are taken from Jnai’s website, which can be found here. If you have any interest in Pitch F/x, I cannot recommend this tool highly enough. It’s thoroughly wonderful. And a big thanks to TangoTiger, who seems to always find the most wonderful toys.
Anyway, here are the pitch locations from 4/18/08 for pitches thrown by Hamels.
If you click on the picture, you should get a slightly larger image. It’s a bit hard to read, anyway, but here are the facts:
Hamels threw 5 pitches well within the strike zone that were called balls. Most of these are located in the lower left quadrant of the strike zone. All 5 were in the lower half. He also threw several pitches that were on or near the border of the strike zone that were also called balls. Hamels threw one pitch that was outside the zone which was called a strike. It would certainly seem that Hamels was getting squeezed a bit. Well, a good amount. The question, of course, is, was Johan Santana getting the same treatment?
Here’s the same chart, but for Johan:
Santana also gets a few would-be strikes called balls, though only one or two of these are egregious (one all by itself in the bottom right, and another one high in the zone, in the middle). The rest are all on or near the strikezone border. Santana did get four pitches outside the zone for called strikes, as well.
It would seem that Santana did get a bit more benefit of the doubt than Hamels, as Runge was more likely to call a ball a strike for Johan than for Cole. Obviously, we’re only talking about 5-10 total pitches, here, but the difference between a 1-0 count and an 0-1 count are significant. Needless to say, Brian Runge, at least from Friday night, is not a friend of the Curious Mechanism.
Playing Favorites
April 20, 2008
So, ShysterBall started this bit of nonsense over here, debating whose jerseys he’d be willing to wear from each team. Since then, Jeff Snider has picked up on the game, and Mr Thursday is nothing if not a cheap ripoff artiste. So, here, below, our favorite player from each team in the Junior Circuit (we’ll send up the NL choices soon), and whether or not that player rates highly enough on a nebulous system of judgement to warrant a jersey purchase. Ya know, if we weren’t broke over here.
LOS ANGELES ANGELS OF ANAHEIM
Favorite: Bert Blyleven.
Why: Everyone remembers him as a Twin, and I imagine a few fondly remember his years Cleveland and Pittsburgh, but when I was a young, wide-eyed child, Bert was busy sporting sub 3.00 ERA for the California Angels, as well as grooming an outstanding beard, and I distinctly remember being given one of the first analogies of my young life: Blyleven : Curveball :: Nolan Ryan : Fastballs. I loved him.
Wear the Jersey? You bet.
OAKLAND ATHLETICS
Favorite: Dave Parker
Why: I have never liked the A’s. I think, perhaps, the first off-color joke I’ve ever known involved postulating what the “A” on the cap stood for. Furthermore, most of their good players, during my lifetime, are or were in some sort of disgrace: Rickey Henderson’s a nut, Jose Canseco…well, Pat Jordan’s pretty much got him nailed, Mark McGwire hides in disgrace, Tony LaRussa is a pompous ass (the A’s! Get it?), and Eckersley, to me, is just the guy who gave up the Kirk Gibson homer. That said, Dave Parker has always been cool. I mean, his nickname was Smoke. Smoke!
Wear the Jersey? Not a chance. I like Parker relative to his Oakland peers, but I still don’t like him that much.
TEXAS RANGERS
Favorite. Nolan Ryan
Why: He’s an easy answer, especially for someone under 30 who grew up watching the National League almost exclusively. But, I love pitchers like him. He has easily the most strikeouts, ever, but he also has easily the most walks, as well. His “stuff” was so filthy that on any given start, he was approximately equally likely to implode as he is to toss a line of zeroes. There are a lot of pitchers like that nowadays, though none of them have been able to harness their powers as consistently as Ryan: guys like Carlos Zambrano, Oliver Perez, and Daniel Cabera, and, to a lesser degree, Edwin Jackson.
Wear the Jersey? Certainly. I think of Ryan more as an Astro (a product of rewatching Game 7 of the 1980 NLCS so many times), but he’s the best I’ve got for Texas.
SEATTLE MARINERS
Favorite. Ken Griffey Jr.
Why: I had roughly 10,000 baseball cards, collected from eras. The collection began in 1988, but picked up steam in 1989, when I got a first edition Topps Ken Griffey Jr rookie card. It was one of my favorite cards. In 1994, when the players went on strike, I quit little league and started giving away the cards. I distinctly remember selling Junior’s (mint condition, in case) card to a lady with a 4 year old son for 50 cents at garage sale. I also sold her a 1983 Carl Yastrzemski and an autographed Curt Schilling. She paid $1.50 for the three. I took the strike pretty hard.
Wear the Jersey? I’m not sure. I’m not much for nostalgia, and as much as I adored the Kid, my love for him is something remembered, and not something that has endured.
CHICAGO WHITE SOX
Favorite. Carlton Fisk
Why: Played catcher in little league and admired the guy. Also, I would happily piss off Boston fans.
Wear the Jersey: Yes, but I doubt I’d pay the necessary money to own it in the first place.
KANSAS CITY ROYALS
Favorite. Bret Saberhagen
Why: I cannot explain why I loved him so much when I was younger. I have no particular attachment to George Brett (likely because I grew up knowing that Mike Schmidt is God), and, to me, Danny Tartabull represents disappointment. But Saberhagen, as a younger man, could throw it with the best of them. Sure, he was almost certainly a victim of tossing too many pitches at too precious an age. But, at least, I remember him only fondly.
Wear the Jersey: Certainly. Especially since Bill James/Rob Neyer/Rany Jazeryerli/Joe Posnanski have turned all of us into secondary fans of the Royals, I have no problem remembering where my fondness for the team began.
CLEVELAND INDIANS
Favorite. Jim Thome.
Why: Class act. Legs like tree trunks. Reported wonderful teammate. Hits thunderous homers. Thunderous. Hit his 400th homer while I was sitting in the (second) best seats of my life: 12 rows behind home plate.
Wear the Jersey? Not a chance. It has nothing to do with Thome, but, like others, I cannot abide the Wahoo.
MINNESOTA TWINS
Favorite. Chuck Knoblauch.
Why: Not all of us remember him for Steve Blass disease (some of us just ignore it when our favorite players become Yankees). Some of us just like to remember 143 OPS+, 45 SB, and apparently good defense from second base. Loved that guy.
Wear the Jersey? Nah. I never liked those uniforms.
DETROIT TIGERS
Favorite. Can’t I just get some Ernie Harwell swag? What about a Sparky Anderson jersey? Is that weird? Okay, fine, Lou Whitaker.
Why: No great reason. Wonderful player, second baseman, and I’ve always had an affection for players who just aren’t quite good enough to be Hall of Famers. Well, actually, Lou might have been good enough. Excellent hitter, outstanding defender, and part of the legendary Trammell-Whitaker double play combo.
Wear the Jersey? Probably. I like Whitaker, and I have no problem with the Tigers.
BOSTON RED SOX
Favorite. Pedro Martinez
Why: Largely for the same reasons as everyone else. Randy Johnson, Roger Clemens, and Greg Maddux have been, at times, nearly as good as Pedro was. But Pedro’s combination of stuff–the crazy fastball, the changeup, the hard breaking stuff–and control, and “pitching smarts”, not to mention a mean streak. I mean, he brought out the absolute best in baseball writers, trying to describe what they were witnessing every time he went out to the mound.
Wear the Jersey? No, thanks.
BALTIMORE ORIOLES
Favorite. Billy Ripken.
Why: Partly because he played second base, and largely because I owned The Card, too.
Wear the Jersey? Nah. Despite a long professed love of irony, I don’t want to (literally) wear it on my shoulder.
TORONTO BLUE JAYS
Favorite. David Wells.
Why: Big, blustery, and funny. Any interview with David Wells is a good interview. Also, as a fat, soft-tossing lefty, he gives me hope that I, too, could still be a professional baseball player.
Wear the Jersey? No. Cannot abide those uniforms.
NEW YORK YANKEES
Favorite. Alex Rodriguez.
Why? Partly just for the history. It’s interesting to watch one of the all-time great players do his thing. It’s equally interesting (though less fun) too see his home crowd despise him while he does it. So, partly because I like A-Rod, and partly because I hate Yankee fans.
Wear the Jersey? Unlikely. I’ve never been one for pinstripes, and I’d hate for anyone to think I’m a Yankee fan, instead of just an A-Rod fan.
TAMPA BAY MEPHISTOPHERAYS
Favorite. Edwin Jackson. Seriously.
Why: Unlike a lot of baseball fans, I’ve never felt like the Rays should be contracted (or, at least, I’ve never appreciated the jokes to that effect), and I’ve been on the the “2009 World Champion Devil Rays” bandwagon since, like, 2005. I mean, I’m not driving the bandwagon, but I do get to ride shotgun to Jim Callis. That said, for reasons I cannot explain fully, (though the Nolan Ryan tidbit explains part of it), I love Edwin Jackson. I want him to succeed, badly. He doesn’t have to become Nolan Ryan or even Mike Mussina, but if he could end up like Mark Langston or Mark Boddicker (decently long career, and generally average or slightly above), I’d be thrilled. Also, for some reason, I really love his fastball. It’s an aesthetically pleasing pitch to watch him release.
Wear the Jersey? Absolutely.
I Love The Whole World
April 18, 2008
This is the new Discovery Channel commercial. It’s less of an advertisement, and more of a reminder that, as they say, “the world is just awesome”. After watching this, I couldn’t agree more.
Enjoy.
Man Man: Rabbit Habits
April 9, 2008
I cannot hear out of my right ear right now, at least, not adequately. I noticed this particular problem just before midnight last night, while walking east on Spring Garden. The hearing hasn’t improved, and, sure, part of me is worried about this. Most of me is irritating by the static whistling in there. But most of me knows the hearing will return in another day or so. This is the price you have to pay, sometimes. Man Man are fucking loud. It’s popular to compare them to Tom Waits and Captain Beefheart, but, ya know, fuck that. Beefheart has always been a bluesman, even in the midst of his noisemaking. Waits and Man Man occasionally chart similar musical terrain, but if Man Man is taking cues from Waits, they’re taking what Waits has done and bringing it to the point of Bacchanalian excess. As a younger man, Waits was a balladeer. When he got older, he became obsessed with found sound and bizarre percussion, and integrated those sounds into his thematic oeuvre (yes, oeuvre, thank you), with the hookers and loneliness and cigarettes in dank Eastern European bars with carnies at 4AM. That’s Tom Waits. Man Man is their own beast.
Man Man deals in heartbreak and melancholy, certainly. But they wrap it up in the twisted, half-ironic machismo, and frame it all in the violent bravado of the revolution.
Rabbit Habits is the band’s third album, following debut The Man in a Blue Turban With a Face and 2006’s brilliant Six Demon Bag. In an interview with Pitchfork, Man Man calls Rabbit Habits their “pop album”, which, of course, is appropriate for an album that makes use of fireworks and dogs-barking-in-bathtubs as percussion. Last night was the album release party at the Starlight Ballroom. To get everyone really in the mood, someone made the decision to play Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” on loop while the previous band (Dirty Projectors) took down their set, and Man Man set up. Needless to say, after 30 minutes or so of the song on repeat, everyone was in a super mood.
Man Man doesn’t banter during the set. They don’t say thank you, until the very, very end. The don’t give song titles. They don’t give explanation. They plug in, and bang everything they can reach as hard as they can, as fast as they can, and, impressively enough, in really, really good rhythm. The band is tight, which is all the more impressive given how insane they are. Leader singer and synthesizer/piano guy, Honus Honus climbs all over and under his equipment, like he’s looking for something desperately. Sitting next to him is the drummer, while the rest of the band stands behind the two throughout the show, switching places and instruments. They are relentless and brutal and fantastic.
How is Rabbit Habits? It’s hard to really talk about an album the day after you first heard it, but, early on, it might now quite measure up to Six Demon Bag, but, in a way, it most resembles the frenetic live show that makes Man Man what they are. But, hell, it’s still better than everything else out there.
