Barb’s Burblings

I went to three of the Orioles’ first four home games; I also went to three of their last four home games. They were 0-3 at the beginning; they were 2-1 at the end. Which is about right. In all, I went to 16 games, and the team went 7-9, which is astonishing, given their record. The season started off horribly, of course. My boy got injured and was gone until the end of July; the bullpen imploded; nobody performed the way they were expected to. The team went from hopes of .500 to speculation about being historically bad.

And then came Buck Showalter. Players recovered from injury. Pitchers got through the sophomore slump and actually pitched well. Every now and then, hitters managed to get hits with runners in scoring position. The team managed to have a winning August and September, unlike pretty much every other year in the past 10 years. The team had a better record this year than last year. Who’d have thunk it? I think back to those horrible, boring games in the beginning of the year (which were not unlike today’s game, actually), and am so happy for what we have now. Optimism.

I came home and turned on MLB Network and watched the San Francisco Giants beat the San Diego Padres to win the NL West. I saw the crowd at AT&T Park and thought, “That’s going to be us, soon. And I can’t wait.”

For the moment, I’ll be cheering on the Giants and the Yankees. Back in 2006, I visited St. Louis and cheered the Cardinals on to World Series victory. Maybe my presence earlier this year will help out the Giants similarly.

Besides, they have the right team colors

How excited was I to see an article that explains the Nationals’ poor luck? So excited. Because it turns out that the Nats are cursed, and there’s nothing more fun than a baseball curse. And what could be more awesome than a curse related to the Lincoln assassination? Nothing. Nothing is more awesome than that.

Nationals Park sits directly on an infamous stretch of the Anacostia River where authorities conducted the autopsy of John Wilkes Booth on the ironclad U.S.S. Montauk anchored at the Navy Yard. Next door at Fort McNair, Booth’s co-conspirators were held and tried at the country’s first federal penitentiary, and four of them were hanged there in July 1865. Booth himself was buried there until his remains were later moved.

Nestled beside where Lincoln’s killers were executed, the placement of the stadium may have unwittingly exposed the Nationals to the conspirators’ vengeful ghosts. That the apparitions of Booth and his gang would aim their ghoulish enmity on modern baseball may seem strange, but it makes sense given President Lincoln’s affinity for what became our national pastime.

Nothing makes more sense than Lincoln’s assassins haunting a baseball team. I totally think that the Nats should capitalize on this somehow. Nationals Park needs something to give it character. This is the perfect opportunity! I’m thinking exorcism. I’m thinking a plaque, at least. I’m thinking anti-Booth chants. I thinking it will be fantastic.

I wasn’t really aware of the scandal surrounding USC and the Heisman and fines and stuff. I really don’t pay much attention to football if I can help it. I usually can’t remember who won the most recent Super Bowl (the Saints, right?), much less stuff about college football. But the more I heard about Bush returning the award, the more annoyed I got.

And it made me realize how much I appreciate baseball. Sure, baseball’s big with Little League and such, and I’m sure there are colleges where it’s big (probably Georgia Tech, given the number of Major Leaguers to come from there, and probably some schools in California), but really, you don’t hear about most baseball players until they’re in the majors. And I think that’s great. The whole culture of college football and basketball annoys me. I can’t help but feel like college football and basketball players who are playing at that elite level are focusing themselves a LOT more on athletics than academics. And though I’m all about extracurriculars in college (if you saw my schedule during college, you’d know), going to college is about academics.

I’ve read any number of articles about how impressive college athletes are, balancing athletics with their school lives. First of all, it strikes me as insane how much they travel. (How many classes do these people miss???) Second of all, there are TONS of people who balance extracurriculars with academics. I managed to graduate magna cum laude while also being the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper (for which we won an award, people!) (did you read that? “The Pulitzer Prizes of student journalism”. I am made of AWESOME), being active in a service fraternity (including serving on the exec board twice, plus once for my pledge class), studying abroad, participating in student theater, and working two jobs. And you know what? Most of my friends were similarly active. And yet, it’s student athletes who get the focus.

And baseball’s not like that. Sure, when players are drafted, a lot of them get a lot of money. And I’m sure that agents woo players and such. But the whole thing just feels less…corporate than other college sports. Which I think is a good thing.

My thoughts about Stephen Strasburg are fairly obvious, so you can imagine my reaction to him going on the DL for the second time in the 2 months he’s been in the major leagues. Honestly, my problem isn’t with him. It’s just that I fear that people have him built up. Just because he’s really, really good doesn’t guarantee him a spot in the Hall of Fame or in the next 10 All-Star Games.

Or, you could just read what Joe Posnanski wrote:

There is an endless list of names … players who could have been in Cooperstown with the great stuff they had … Roger Salkeld … Dean Burke … Les Rohr … Brien Taylor … David Clyde … Bill Pulsipher … Todd Van Poppel … these are not cautionary tales. These are not exceptions to the rule. They are the rule. These are the reality pitchers, the ones who had their great careers ended before they began.

All of which is to say that Stephen Strasburg fights the odds. But he was fighting the odds anyway, long before this latest injury. Pitchers get hurt in a thousand different ways. And it isn’t the ability to endure pain that gets them through even if a lughead like Rob Dibble thinks Strasburg should just “suck it up” and “stop crying.” No, it’s preparation, and it’s luck, and it’s taking care of yourself, and it’s luck, and it’s maintaining form, and it’s luck, and in many cases it’s surgery.

So I wish Strasburg luck. And if his career is one of flashes of brilliance and extended stints on the DL, I’ll be saddened. But not surprised.

A while back, a coworker walked up to me and asked me whether I watched the game the night before. I emphatically said that no, I hadn’t. “Wow, I’m surprised,” she said. Which makes sense. She knows that I’m a baseball fan. How could I not watch Stephen Strasburg’s major league debut?

The answer is: I am so incredibly sick of Strasburg that I could scream. All spring, the Washington Post has had article after article after article about Strasburg. And I’m not talking about only the days he pitched. No, no. That would make too much sense. I’m talking about articles practically every day. (Well, they had to fill the space somehow, seeing how the Redskins aren’t playing.) If I wanted to see last night’s box score, I had to dig through the Strasburg News of the Day.

I had hoped that his debut would lessen the talk. Unfortunately, much like how I hoped that winning a World Series might shut Red Sox fans up a bit, I was sadly mistaken. I understand that he’s an incredibly good pitcher. Really. I get that. But can we stop talking about him all the time? And making excuses for when he isn’t totally brilliant? “He walked 5 men in 5.1 innings? The mound was messed up.” Well, the other pitcher walked 3 in 5.2…but who notices that? He gave up 9 hits in 6 innings? They were bloopers. The other pitcher? Five hits and 2 walks in 6. Which means, even with the walks, that he allowed two fewer men on base…but obvously that doesn’t matter.

And now, it’s all talk about whether or not he should go to the All-Star Game. No. No, he should not. Even if he wins his next couple of starts, no. And not because I’m sure he’ll being going to All-Star Games for the next 20 years, which is a lot of people’s arguments. It’s because he hasn’t even played a half-season in the major leagues. You want to send a pitcher from the Nationals to the ASG? Send Matt Capps. He’s been awesome for them.

If you’re looking for an illustration of what I’m talking about, let’s turn to the O’s-Nats game on Friday. Out of nowhere, Rob Dibble is like, “Let’s talk about Stephen Strasburg.” What? Why? So blah blah blah about Strasburg. The Nats’ announcers annoy me enough already (every single play is one of the best ever; if Zimmerman lays his hand on a ball, it’s all, “Well, that’s what having a All-Star/Gold Glover/best third basemen in the majors will do”–even if the play isn’t that challenging), but to add that? Kill me. I muted it. A few minutes later, I unmuted…to hear “Strasburg.” And quickly muted it again.

Look, again, I get it. But you know what? Crap happens. People get injured. They get into accidents. Weird things happen. Hopefully, Strasburg will still be pitching in 20 years. But it’s not something you can count on. Enjoy him now, but realize there’s a lot else going on.

Not that everyone else is helping. I flipped over to the Yankees-Dodgers game last night only to hear one of the announcers ask the other whether Strasburg should be an All Star. That sound? Was me throwing my remote against the wall.

(Also? Strasburg has stupid facial hair.)

I was at the O’s game tonight (but let’s not talk about that), and, of course, was surrounded by Yankees fans. In fairness, the ones right around me weren’t too bad. The couple behind me were idiots, but they weren’t loud. And around the 7th inning, I was ready to smack the kid next to me once he decided to start yelling “O’s suck!” a lot. (I may have yelled “OOH, COULDN’T EVEN HIT THE WARNING TRACK!” in the kid’s face when some Yankee flied out and the kid was all, “Get out of here!” even though the ball was obviously going to stay in the yard.) (This was possibly not my proudest moment.) But for the most part, the loud idiots were well behind me. This meant that I could focus my attention on the shirt of the guy in front of me:

At first I was fine with it, and was pleased to see that at least it wasn’t a 2009 World Series Champions shirt. (I was amazed at the number of people who had bought the official one. Seriously, very few knock-offs. Which is kind of sad, but when I was shopping for a Christmas present for my father, I discovered how hard it was to find non-official merchandise online.)

And then I took a closer look. This was obviously a knockoff. I started getting annoyed at the “East Division.” Nowhere on the shirt does it say “American League.” It’s not the MLB has a single “East Division.” It has, in fact, two of them.

Yes, my annoyance level was already somewhat high, but this just got to me after a while. (Obviously. I mean, I went to the trouble of taking a picture.)

Also, what’s up with the flag?

When I woke up this morning, my first thought was, pretty much, “Thank God I took tomorrow off.” It’s been just a crazy weekend. I took Friday off, too. (The only thing that makes the gap between Presidents Day and Memorial Day manageable is 4-day weekends.) But in the past 48 hours, I’ve been to two baseball games, gone to a parade rehearsal, been in a parade (which involved waking up at 5:45 Saturday morning), volunteered at the American History Museum (during peak tourist season), and hosted my dad. I actually got home from the museum this afternoon and took a quick nap–otherwise, I wasn’t making it through the day.

It was one of those weekends where everything has been really, really fun…but totally exhausting. So it’ll be nice to have a day to sleep in, hang around the house, watch some tv, play with the Internet-enabled Wii (yay!), and go to another game. (Oh yes. Three games in four days. Maybe the third time will be the charm and they’ll actually win tomorrow?) (Although I’ll have to distract myself from the sorrow of my boy going on the DL.)

God bless my large vacation day reserves.

Sure, yesterday was Opening Day for most of Major League Baseball. But it was put off until tonight for the Orioles and the Rays. Luckily their first game is at night, so I don’t have to miss the O’s first game of the season. It always sucks when they open away, but I’ll be there on Friday to welcome them home. I’m just bummed that Matusz is pitching Thursday, not Friday.

And since it is the beginning of the baseball season, I can’t help but include one of my favorite commercials…

Screw it, let’s throw in some of the MLB Network commercials, too.

Because I’m still chilly, some 2.5 hours after coming inside and despite adding layers, I’ve decided to distract myself by thinking of baseball. It’s almost February, which means that it’s almost time for pitchers and catchers to report! Spring training, yay! Not that I’m going this year, unfortunately. But still, baseball makes me happy. Now I’m just going to pretend that it’s July, and I’m sitting at Camden Yards, and it’s hot…

Also, happiness that O’s FanFest was last weekend, and thus the return of the “Barb in the O’s dugout” series:

I went to my first professional basketball game tonight, watching the Trail Blazers lose to the Grizzlies. (But I got to wear my awesome Przybilla jersey!) The Blazers were pretty sloppy for most of the game, and at times trailed by over 20 points. (They wound up losing only by 10 points, 106-96, and at times were as close at 8 points.) They had a really, really bad first half. But anyway, it was a good time–very loud (my throat’s a bit sore), entertaining.

What got me, though, was the guy in the row in front of me. By a few minutes into the second half (after they had FLY BALL during halftime! EPIC WIN!), the guy was sitting there, head in hands, clearly unhappy. And I looked him and thought, I know that feeling. How many Orioles games have I gone to and wound up in that position? It was actually liberating to watch the game, rooting for the Blazers but not being that involved in the outcome. I could enjoy the random stuff going on, cheer the team on, and leave the arena having had a great night, even though the team lost. Sure, it would’ve been better if the Blazers had won, but ah well.

Seriously, it’s nice to just not have that pressure. Fandom can be so trying sometimes.