Some baseball-related deity up there really, really hates me.
Situation: Cards 5, Astros 2. Adam Wainwright has just blown through a perfect and spotless 7th inning in which he has struck out 2 of the 3 batters he faced. So he goes back for the eighth. Gets into trouble straightaway. Gives up two runs - although the ump did screw him like a drill on one call to Biggio, which should have ended the AB before he had the chance to get that RBI single. They pull Adam for Tyler Johnson, who executes a Houdini-like bit of wriggling to get out of it. God, the nightmares I have about the bottom of the eighth inning at the fucking Juice Box in Houston.
Then Braden Looper is put in to hold a slim 5-4 advantage in the bottom of the ninth. Fat Elvis Berkman isn't involved this time, but the outcome is the same. Looper, abruptly realizing that he's supposed to suck, lives up to his billing and blows it. 6-5 'Stros is your final.
I don't have anything else to say. St. Louis Cardinals: Your 2006 NL Central Winners. By default.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
An Addendum to Agony
Posted after a little time to chill out, talk to my sister, and get myself psyched up about playing softball for the SLC Gryphons. Which is going to be awesome.
I own two Cardinals T-shirts, one Wainwright and one Carpenter. I usually wear my Wainwright T-shirt to bed, but tonight I'm going to wear Carp. Just because I still love him, even after a really tough outing. The precise reason that this was so gut-wrenching to watch is because you know it didn't have to be that way, because it usually isn't. Chris Carpenter is a stud and he and Albert Pujols make me proud to be a Cardinals fanatic.
I've had some time to mellow, and while this loss is still awful, it'll be okay. It really will. We're still going to clinch the Central, and if that's are far as we go... well, that's okay. No one's really expecting us to do anything else, and if we do go farther, I'll be ecstatic. But I can't help but love them, and that's why baseball rocks my little world.
I'm going to peace out and get some sleep, because I have class early tomorrow and it's philosophy, I want my mind to be fresh. So to bed I go, and I love my Redbirds, because I can't do anything but.
I own two Cardinals T-shirts, one Wainwright and one Carpenter. I usually wear my Wainwright T-shirt to bed, but tonight I'm going to wear Carp. Just because I still love him, even after a really tough outing. The precise reason that this was so gut-wrenching to watch is because you know it didn't have to be that way, because it usually isn't. Chris Carpenter is a stud and he and Albert Pujols make me proud to be a Cardinals fanatic.
I've had some time to mellow, and while this loss is still awful, it'll be okay. It really will. We're still going to clinch the Central, and if that's are far as we go... well, that's okay. No one's really expecting us to do anything else, and if we do go farther, I'll be ecstatic. But I can't help but love them, and that's why baseball rocks my little world.
I'm going to peace out and get some sleep, because I have class early tomorrow and it's philosophy, I want my mind to be fresh. So to bed I go, and I love my Redbirds, because I can't do anything but.
My Heart Has Been Torn Out Of My Chest, Stomped On, And Eaten Raw By Cannibals Before My Eyes
Sports fanaticism is not a good thing for a person. I mean it. The emotional turmoil it puts you through is just too much.
Earlier today, I was riding pretty high. Rich Harden came back to make his triumphant return for the A's after eight zillion years on the DL, and pitched 3 innings, allowing 2 hits, 1 run, and racking up 7 strikeouts. That's right - 7 of his 9 outs were of the K variety, and his only mistake was grooving a straight fastball to Grady Sizemore, who's a good player and doesn't miss it when you put it right in his wheelhouse. Other than that, everything was sunshine and warm fuzzies in Oakland today, as the A's took 3 of 4 from the Chief Wahoo Crew and cut that ever-important magic number down to 4, sporting a 7-game lead as the LAAAAAAA roll into town for a three-game weekend set. If the A's win two of three, they'll get to clinch on their home turf in front of their biggest rivals. Ahhhh, that would be so wonderful.
So why the nihilistic title? Mainly because tonight's recent events have me feeling as if exactly that has happened to me, maybe even adding a sledgehammer into the equation somewhere.
Situation: Cardinals have a 5-game lead in the NL Central, with the same magic number. They're not playing that well, but it's all right; there's nobody playing well enough to challenge them and they're going to take home the hardware eventually. So why the pain?
Let's start by setting the scene. 5-4 Cardinals, bottom of the eighth, two out, man on second. Chris Carpenter is trying to gut out one more out after a (for him) subpar outing. He's given up 4 runs already, two of them coming on a home run by Lance "Fat Elvis" Berkman, who has always hit Carp well and who was the author of the blast that put the 'Stros ahead in NLCS Game 5 last year before Prince Albert worked his three-run walkoff magic against Brad Lidge, who's never been the same since. (See: Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen).
And for some reason, Tony La Russa had a total brainlock and didn't walk Berkman. First base was already open. Carpenter sets him up with a steady diet of cutters, runs a two-seamer in, and gets to 3-2. I'm dying. Carp throws the cutter again, which Berkman was either sitting on or has hit Carp well enough to guess his pitch selection. Takes it downtown. 6-5 Astros, just like that, and the Cards go quietly against Dan Wheeler in the ninth, Phil Garner not being a brave enough man to risk Lidge against his personal pack of nemeses.
So why the pain? A) I want more than anything to see Carpenter take home his second straight Cy award. His numbers are outstanding by any yardstick you use, and he's top of the heap in pretty much any category. After that loss, he's even still 15-7 with a 2.93 ERA. But as the NL Cy race is a two-horse contest between him and Brandon Webb of the D-backs, he needs absolutely everything he can get.
Secondly: Home-field advantage is incredibly important for the Cards in any playoff series, and they need to keep winning (and have the Dodgers and Padres lose) in order to secure it. Carpenter is a manbeast at home, registering a 1.46 ERA, but he's more human on the road, even mediocre, posting a 4.52 mark (that's undoubtedly gone up after tonight's debacle). Having him start the opening game of any series at New Busch is something that the Cards desperately need, especially as their rotation after Carp is pick-and-choose junk. Suppan has been very good, with a 2.27 ERA since the break, but after that, you descend into the wilderness of Reyes (wild, tendency to get pounded) Weaver (spotty and totally unpredictable) and Marquis (total worthlessness). They need to jump out to that early lead to hang on with whatever they throw out there.
And for purely selfish reasons, this loss feels like a kick in the gut. I'll admit it, I fucking love Chris Carpenter. I must have a thing for tall, gray-eyed, unbearably adorable Cardinals power pitchers, who possess ERAs of 2.93 and 2.92, respectively, and are the aces of a) the rotation and b) the bullpen.
If you guessed Carp and Adam Wainwright, you are, naturally, right on the mark. The two Cards shirts I own are #29 Carpenter and #50 Wainwright. Carpenter became a desperate favorite of mine this season, for whatever reason, even after his Cy campaign last year. Maybe it's his sensational smile and nice-guy demeanor, the fact that I love to watch him baffle hitters, or simply that I'm blindly biased in a pro-Cards direction, but I freakin' adore that man. He's a stud. Even tonight. Watching that happen - especially since the whole of Cardinals Nation was screaming for an IBB of Berkman and Tony completely missed the memo. It didn't have to happen. Luke Scott, the hitter right after Berkman, popped out on the second pitch he saw.
Complete game from Carp, giving up 2 runs to people not named Lance Berkman. He's the only hitter on the Astros, and he knows Carp well - as demonstrated. Absolutely no reason to pitch to him in that situation, and despite all La Russa's assurances that he's not trying to pad Carp's case for a repeat Cy, I have to wonder if there was a little of that going on tonight.
I know that Carp's the ace, but Berkman has his number. Ackn0wledge that fact. Since Adam was anointed the new closer after Isringhausen's departure, if you absolutely must pitch to Berkman, then put Adam in to do it.
This one hurt. This one really, really hurt. The Cards will clinch eventually, but it would be bittersweet if it came at the expense of home-field advantage and they went out quietly in the first round.
Crawling-off-and-crying time now.
Earlier today, I was riding pretty high. Rich Harden came back to make his triumphant return for the A's after eight zillion years on the DL, and pitched 3 innings, allowing 2 hits, 1 run, and racking up 7 strikeouts. That's right - 7 of his 9 outs were of the K variety, and his only mistake was grooving a straight fastball to Grady Sizemore, who's a good player and doesn't miss it when you put it right in his wheelhouse. Other than that, everything was sunshine and warm fuzzies in Oakland today, as the A's took 3 of 4 from the Chief Wahoo Crew and cut that ever-important magic number down to 4, sporting a 7-game lead as the LAAAAAAA roll into town for a three-game weekend set. If the A's win two of three, they'll get to clinch on their home turf in front of their biggest rivals. Ahhhh, that would be so wonderful.
So why the nihilistic title? Mainly because tonight's recent events have me feeling as if exactly that has happened to me, maybe even adding a sledgehammer into the equation somewhere.
Situation: Cardinals have a 5-game lead in the NL Central, with the same magic number. They're not playing that well, but it's all right; there's nobody playing well enough to challenge them and they're going to take home the hardware eventually. So why the pain?
Let's start by setting the scene. 5-4 Cardinals, bottom of the eighth, two out, man on second. Chris Carpenter is trying to gut out one more out after a (for him) subpar outing. He's given up 4 runs already, two of them coming on a home run by Lance "Fat Elvis" Berkman, who has always hit Carp well and who was the author of the blast that put the 'Stros ahead in NLCS Game 5 last year before Prince Albert worked his three-run walkoff magic against Brad Lidge, who's never been the same since. (See: Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen).
And for some reason, Tony La Russa had a total brainlock and didn't walk Berkman. First base was already open. Carpenter sets him up with a steady diet of cutters, runs a two-seamer in, and gets to 3-2. I'm dying. Carp throws the cutter again, which Berkman was either sitting on or has hit Carp well enough to guess his pitch selection. Takes it downtown. 6-5 Astros, just like that, and the Cards go quietly against Dan Wheeler in the ninth, Phil Garner not being a brave enough man to risk Lidge against his personal pack of nemeses.
So why the pain? A) I want more than anything to see Carpenter take home his second straight Cy award. His numbers are outstanding by any yardstick you use, and he's top of the heap in pretty much any category. After that loss, he's even still 15-7 with a 2.93 ERA. But as the NL Cy race is a two-horse contest between him and Brandon Webb of the D-backs, he needs absolutely everything he can get.
Secondly: Home-field advantage is incredibly important for the Cards in any playoff series, and they need to keep winning (and have the Dodgers and Padres lose) in order to secure it. Carpenter is a manbeast at home, registering a 1.46 ERA, but he's more human on the road, even mediocre, posting a 4.52 mark (that's undoubtedly gone up after tonight's debacle). Having him start the opening game of any series at New Busch is something that the Cards desperately need, especially as their rotation after Carp is pick-and-choose junk. Suppan has been very good, with a 2.27 ERA since the break, but after that, you descend into the wilderness of Reyes (wild, tendency to get pounded) Weaver (spotty and totally unpredictable) and Marquis (total worthlessness). They need to jump out to that early lead to hang on with whatever they throw out there.
And for purely selfish reasons, this loss feels like a kick in the gut. I'll admit it, I fucking love Chris Carpenter. I must have a thing for tall, gray-eyed, unbearably adorable Cardinals power pitchers, who possess ERAs of 2.93 and 2.92, respectively, and are the aces of a) the rotation and b) the bullpen.
If you guessed Carp and Adam Wainwright, you are, naturally, right on the mark. The two Cards shirts I own are #29 Carpenter and #50 Wainwright. Carpenter became a desperate favorite of mine this season, for whatever reason, even after his Cy campaign last year. Maybe it's his sensational smile and nice-guy demeanor, the fact that I love to watch him baffle hitters, or simply that I'm blindly biased in a pro-Cards direction, but I freakin' adore that man. He's a stud. Even tonight. Watching that happen - especially since the whole of Cardinals Nation was screaming for an IBB of Berkman and Tony completely missed the memo. It didn't have to happen. Luke Scott, the hitter right after Berkman, popped out on the second pitch he saw.
Complete game from Carp, giving up 2 runs to people not named Lance Berkman. He's the only hitter on the Astros, and he knows Carp well - as demonstrated. Absolutely no reason to pitch to him in that situation, and despite all La Russa's assurances that he's not trying to pad Carp's case for a repeat Cy, I have to wonder if there was a little of that going on tonight.
I know that Carp's the ace, but Berkman has his number. Ackn0wledge that fact. Since Adam was anointed the new closer after Isringhausen's departure, if you absolutely must pitch to Berkman, then put Adam in to do it.
This one hurt. This one really, really hurt. The Cards will clinch eventually, but it would be bittersweet if it came at the expense of home-field advantage and they went out quietly in the first round.
Crawling-off-and-crying time now.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Let The Salivation Begin
So the Colorado Rockies, apparently heeding to my very whim, have decided to put out a preliminary PDF of ther 2007 home schedule. I, being the maniac that I am, scanned it eagerly, to plan what games I'm going to go to next summer once I get home from college.
I came up with a list including the 4-game St. Louis series at the end of May (oh thank you, Scheduling Gods, for putting it there and not sooner, as my last day of class is May 11 and I'll fly home later that day). I have to wear my new Adam Wainwright T-shirt somewhere, right? And where better to do so than to a season-inauguring set between the Rockies and Redbirds?
(Disclaimer: Although I love the Rockies, who won me over this season, I adore the Cards, and I can't possibly root against them. All other games you may see me at, however, I'll be rooting for the Rox).
If I can make it to one of the Yankees games, I will (read: Wednesday night, as on Wednesdays, Coors Field gives away a voucher for a free ticket to every female through the gates) solely for the purpose of booing A-Rod. But those would be a madhouse and I'd probably be lucky to get tickets even if I booked them now. And I'd go and root like hell for the Rockies, because despite my four-year transplantation to New York, I still don't like their baseball teams any better.
After that, I'd like to catch the Reds, the Astros, and any others that I can manage, winding down to August 8, 7:05 PM against the Brewers. Why the Brewers, you ask? Well, because my sister and I went on August 2 of last year, Rockies vs. Brewers, for the last game of the season (well, our season, since both of us had commitments afterwards). It was one of the best nights of my life and just the thought of doing it over again in '07 gives me the shivers.
What I really need: a Rockies hat.
Speaking of Colorado, I miss it. A bit more than I expected, actually. I'm not that homesick, and I love my school, my classes, my profs, and basically everything else, but it rains too damn much in New York. I miss Colorado blue sky, mountains, and crisp days and nights (the humidity here is quite something new). I also miss the Rockies. My summer spent in their company was one for the truly awesome annals. Even though they're out of the race and spent most of the past two weeks shitting the bed, I am desperately eager to get back into their company starting May 28, 1:05 PM against the Cardinals.
On another baseball-related note, ESPN Page 2's "Hometown Bums" feature, mimicking MLB's "Hometown Heroes," is just about the funniest thing I have read in my life.
The Hometown Bums. "How come Jose Mesa is listed for only three teams?"
BWAHAHAHAA. As a Rockies fan, however, that stings a little too close to home. God, if I could count the years off my life that I've wasted watching that man quote unquote pitch... I also think it is vastly amusing that Dan O'Dowd is listed as a Rockies nominee. Seeing as he, along with Republicans, is also a running punchline in my house, it's got to be him. He was the, cough cough, "genius" behind the assorted fiascos that have characterized the Colorado franchise since they hired him.
The Hometown Bums ballot. I love it that A-Rod is present under both Rangers and Yankees. To be fair, he was less of a bum in Texas than he was in New York. Either way you slice it, can't stand the guy.
From an A's fan perspective, got to be Jeremy Giambi. "SLIDE, JEREMY, SLIDE!" Ahh... if you don't know what that means, you have not suffered enough to be an A's fan. I doth decree that you shall be exiled into the deserts of Red Sox/Yanks fandom for forty years.
From a Cards fan perspective: Mark Mulder. I loved the guy to death when he was with Oakland, and was heartbroken when he was traded. However, he has done some major pooch-screwing in St. Louie, isn't getting any better, is hurt and doesn't appear to know why, and generally appeared to fall off the face of the earth once Billy Beane gave him the boot. Besides, Danny Haren is one of my favorites now, and Kiko Calero is a member of the unstoppable bullpen troika (the other two being Justin Duchscherer and Huston Street). This trade was a major winner for the A's.
I've done my homework for the evening, so I'm generally wasting time on the Internet. Maybe I'll go see if someone emailed me. I don't think that my family emails me enough. They apparently disagree.
I came up with a list including the 4-game St. Louis series at the end of May (oh thank you, Scheduling Gods, for putting it there and not sooner, as my last day of class is May 11 and I'll fly home later that day). I have to wear my new Adam Wainwright T-shirt somewhere, right? And where better to do so than to a season-inauguring set between the Rockies and Redbirds?
(Disclaimer: Although I love the Rockies, who won me over this season, I adore the Cards, and I can't possibly root against them. All other games you may see me at, however, I'll be rooting for the Rox).
If I can make it to one of the Yankees games, I will (read: Wednesday night, as on Wednesdays, Coors Field gives away a voucher for a free ticket to every female through the gates) solely for the purpose of booing A-Rod. But those would be a madhouse and I'd probably be lucky to get tickets even if I booked them now. And I'd go and root like hell for the Rockies, because despite my four-year transplantation to New York, I still don't like their baseball teams any better.
After that, I'd like to catch the Reds, the Astros, and any others that I can manage, winding down to August 8, 7:05 PM against the Brewers. Why the Brewers, you ask? Well, because my sister and I went on August 2 of last year, Rockies vs. Brewers, for the last game of the season (well, our season, since both of us had commitments afterwards). It was one of the best nights of my life and just the thought of doing it over again in '07 gives me the shivers.
What I really need: a Rockies hat.
Speaking of Colorado, I miss it. A bit more than I expected, actually. I'm not that homesick, and I love my school, my classes, my profs, and basically everything else, but it rains too damn much in New York. I miss Colorado blue sky, mountains, and crisp days and nights (the humidity here is quite something new). I also miss the Rockies. My summer spent in their company was one for the truly awesome annals. Even though they're out of the race and spent most of the past two weeks shitting the bed, I am desperately eager to get back into their company starting May 28, 1:05 PM against the Cardinals.
On another baseball-related note, ESPN Page 2's "Hometown Bums" feature, mimicking MLB's "Hometown Heroes," is just about the funniest thing I have read in my life.
The Hometown Bums. "How come Jose Mesa is listed for only three teams?"
BWAHAHAHAA. As a Rockies fan, however, that stings a little too close to home. God, if I could count the years off my life that I've wasted watching that man quote unquote pitch... I also think it is vastly amusing that Dan O'Dowd is listed as a Rockies nominee. Seeing as he, along with Republicans, is also a running punchline in my house, it's got to be him. He was the, cough cough, "genius" behind the assorted fiascos that have characterized the Colorado franchise since they hired him.
The Hometown Bums ballot. I love it that A-Rod is present under both Rangers and Yankees. To be fair, he was less of a bum in Texas than he was in New York. Either way you slice it, can't stand the guy.
From an A's fan perspective, got to be Jeremy Giambi. "SLIDE, JEREMY, SLIDE!" Ahh... if you don't know what that means, you have not suffered enough to be an A's fan. I doth decree that you shall be exiled into the deserts of Red Sox/Yanks fandom for forty years.
From a Cards fan perspective: Mark Mulder. I loved the guy to death when he was with Oakland, and was heartbroken when he was traded. However, he has done some major pooch-screwing in St. Louie, isn't getting any better, is hurt and doesn't appear to know why, and generally appeared to fall off the face of the earth once Billy Beane gave him the boot. Besides, Danny Haren is one of my favorites now, and Kiko Calero is a member of the unstoppable bullpen troika (the other two being Justin Duchscherer and Huston Street). This trade was a major winner for the A's.
I've done my homework for the evening, so I'm generally wasting time on the Internet. Maybe I'll go see if someone emailed me. I don't think that my family emails me enough. They apparently disagree.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Confessions of a Music Freak
I have to admit. I am freaking addicted to music. My iPod is my life, filled only with my 700-odd handpicked songs, the ones that I love and can play over and over, and often do. Whenever you'll see me, it's often with a pair of little white buds plugged into my ears, and my head bopping wildly as I respond innately to the chords floating through them. Therefore, this leads me to a confession:
I have got to stop buying new music on iTunes. My debit card account is not infinite. But there's so much great music out there, and I've already bought other things or two, not to mention I really want to save money for whatever infrequent jaunts to NYC that I can scrounge up on an extremely limited budget, aside from having little to no knowledge of the train system and how to get around. But what can I say?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go download the Kingdom of Heaven soundtrack.
I have got to stop buying new music on iTunes. My debit card account is not infinite. But there's so much great music out there, and I've already bought other things or two, not to mention I really want to save money for whatever infrequent jaunts to NYC that I can scrounge up on an extremely limited budget, aside from having little to no knowledge of the train system and how to get around. But what can I say?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go download the Kingdom of Heaven soundtrack.
Brokeback Mountain
So I finally watched it. This has been one episode that I have been planning with Machiavellian precision ever since before I'd left home. I wanted to see it but I didn't think there was any way I could sneak an R-rated "gay cowboy" movie past my parents, who are cool on some things but a bit more tetchy on others. So, I decided to wait until I was at school, which, obviously, is where I am now. I bought the DVD for less than $10 off Amazon, got it today, and stuck it into my handy-dandy laptop, which plays movies in addition to being, well, a computer.
I was blown away. I came into the film with high expectations - everyone and his brother talking it up and it sweeping practically every awards show that it encountered. But... well... wow. I finished it about 15 minutes ago and I think the real weight of it is just hitting me now.
Confession. Guys think that girl-on-girl is pretty fuckin' hot; well, it's the reverse for me. I happily admit that I find guy-on-guy incredibly sexy. But that is entirely not what BBM is about. There's only one sex scene between the protagonists, and then tastefully shot with no nudity at all, mostly in the dark. BBM, as just about anybody with an Internet connection to IMDB knows, is not about that. It's about love - real love, the kind that we only get (or give) once in our lives, and how there was tremendous pressure on the cowboy main characters to "conform," to live normally, to marry and have kids, when what they really wanted (but could never admit to) was a life with each other.
[SPOILERS]
At the end of the film, when Ennis calls Lureen to find out what happened, and then later goes through Jack's closet and finds the bloodstained shirt that he kept all those years, my heart was just breaking. Heath Ledger did a marvelous job at portraying the emotions of a character who thought that he wasn't allowed to feel them, and my entire thoughts through this five-minute-plus scene consisted of, Oh, Ennis. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That and sobbing my eyes out. It was a good thing that I was alone in my dorm, or I'm pretty sure that anxious questions would have been levied. Fortunately, one roomie's off with her boyfriend, and the other went to a volleyball game.
So, yeah. Nothing else to say in this post but, holy crow. I'm watching it with my sister when she comes to visit me in November, and I think she's going to like it almost as much as I did.
I was blown away. I came into the film with high expectations - everyone and his brother talking it up and it sweeping practically every awards show that it encountered. But... well... wow. I finished it about 15 minutes ago and I think the real weight of it is just hitting me now.
Confession. Guys think that girl-on-girl is pretty fuckin' hot; well, it's the reverse for me. I happily admit that I find guy-on-guy incredibly sexy. But that is entirely not what BBM is about. There's only one sex scene between the protagonists, and then tastefully shot with no nudity at all, mostly in the dark. BBM, as just about anybody with an Internet connection to IMDB knows, is not about that. It's about love - real love, the kind that we only get (or give) once in our lives, and how there was tremendous pressure on the cowboy main characters to "conform," to live normally, to marry and have kids, when what they really wanted (but could never admit to) was a life with each other.
[SPOILERS]
At the end of the film, when Ennis calls Lureen to find out what happened, and then later goes through Jack's closet and finds the bloodstained shirt that he kept all those years, my heart was just breaking. Heath Ledger did a marvelous job at portraying the emotions of a character who thought that he wasn't allowed to feel them, and my entire thoughts through this five-minute-plus scene consisted of, Oh, Ennis. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That and sobbing my eyes out. It was a good thing that I was alone in my dorm, or I'm pretty sure that anxious questions would have been levied. Fortunately, one roomie's off with her boyfriend, and the other went to a volleyball game.
So, yeah. Nothing else to say in this post but, holy crow. I'm watching it with my sister when she comes to visit me in November, and I think she's going to like it almost as much as I did.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Articles of Interest
Let us put a face to the shadowy Internet presence with Ethernet connection and Inspiron laptop. Let us plumb the darkness of ignorance and this black template thing that I've got going on. Let us strip aside the flesh and excavate the bone, let us dig into the cadaver and --
Let us get off this particularly undelightful metaphor and do the introduction, shall we?
About Me. I am eighteen years old and a woman, although on occasion I have been mistaken for being a) in my mid-to-late twenties and b) a boy. In my defense, I am not boyish-looking at all, but I am five-foot-ten and broad-shouldered, and at the time of the sad misidentification incident(s), I was usually wearing some piece of disguising clothing such as a ski helmet and goggles, and/or a bike helmet and sunglasses. Must be something about the protective gear.
I like music - in fact I can't live without it. I like chocolate, as most everyone with two X chromosomes does. I write because it is my life and the words would never leave me alone if I did not. I architect and manipulate and sculpt and battle. I love the English language, with the way you can piece it together into poetry like turning a kaleidoscope, and I believe there is a special place in hell for people who write "alway's fresh" on grocery-store signs or "As it looked around, it's eyes flared" in schlocky fantasy novels. I am an apostrophe defender, a grammarian warrior, and have adopted Lynn Truss' zero-tolerance policy toward punctuation. Do it right, the end.
I am deeply in love with baseball for reason having nothing to do with a) an interest in other women, or b) a fervent desire to get the players drunk and then sleep with them. Don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the aesthetic aspects, and there are some players that I would go for - but only if they talked to me first. ;) I am not a slut. I don't drink, do drugs, or smoke. However, when I fell for baseball, I was seven years old, far too young to notice such things as the fact that Brad Hawpe has a fine, fine ass. The love of baseball, just baseball as the sport, stayed with me as I grew up. No need to reiterate my teams - you know them already.
What else do I like? I like cold winter days and attractive men. I like inventing wildly when given a modicum of truth to start with. I like staying up until 3:00 AM and waking up at noon. I like my sleep in general. I am deeply sympathetic to the liberal side of things in America, and have relatively little patience for Republicans, who are the running punch line in my family's house.
I have been kissed by someone that I didn't like but I have kissed someone that I did. I am cynical, cheerful, easy-going, funny, sarcastic, and occasionally reclusive. I am perfectly content to spend hours with only the creatures of my imagination for company. I would rather go home and work on my writing than go out to a party and get wasted. I like having the freedom to do what I want. I am a very responsible person in general but I like to drive fast. I miss the sunshine of Colorado and my younger sister, my best friend. But I am excited beyond measure to be where I am and now I really must work on philosophy.
Let us get off this particularly undelightful metaphor and do the introduction, shall we?
About Me. I am eighteen years old and a woman, although on occasion I have been mistaken for being a) in my mid-to-late twenties and b) a boy. In my defense, I am not boyish-looking at all, but I am five-foot-ten and broad-shouldered, and at the time of the sad misidentification incident(s), I was usually wearing some piece of disguising clothing such as a ski helmet and goggles, and/or a bike helmet and sunglasses. Must be something about the protective gear.
I like music - in fact I can't live without it. I like chocolate, as most everyone with two X chromosomes does. I write because it is my life and the words would never leave me alone if I did not. I architect and manipulate and sculpt and battle. I love the English language, with the way you can piece it together into poetry like turning a kaleidoscope, and I believe there is a special place in hell for people who write "alway's fresh" on grocery-store signs or "As it looked around, it's eyes flared" in schlocky fantasy novels. I am an apostrophe defender, a grammarian warrior, and have adopted Lynn Truss' zero-tolerance policy toward punctuation. Do it right, the end.
I am deeply in love with baseball for reason having nothing to do with a) an interest in other women, or b) a fervent desire to get the players drunk and then sleep with them. Don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the aesthetic aspects, and there are some players that I would go for - but only if they talked to me first. ;) I am not a slut. I don't drink, do drugs, or smoke. However, when I fell for baseball, I was seven years old, far too young to notice such things as the fact that Brad Hawpe has a fine, fine ass. The love of baseball, just baseball as the sport, stayed with me as I grew up. No need to reiterate my teams - you know them already.
What else do I like? I like cold winter days and attractive men. I like inventing wildly when given a modicum of truth to start with. I like staying up until 3:00 AM and waking up at noon. I like my sleep in general. I am deeply sympathetic to the liberal side of things in America, and have relatively little patience for Republicans, who are the running punch line in my family's house.
I have been kissed by someone that I didn't like but I have kissed someone that I did. I am cynical, cheerful, easy-going, funny, sarcastic, and occasionally reclusive. I am perfectly content to spend hours with only the creatures of my imagination for company. I would rather go home and work on my writing than go out to a party and get wasted. I like having the freedom to do what I want. I am a very responsible person in general but I like to drive fast. I miss the sunshine of Colorado and my younger sister, my best friend. But I am excited beyond measure to be where I am and now I really must work on philosophy.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Mea Culpa
Freddy Garcia of the White Sox loses a perfect game against the LAAAAAAA with two out in the eighth. Ooooh.... damn you Adam Kennedy...
A Note on My Baseblogging
I have never laid claim to being the most objective of sports bloggers. While Sparks of Dementia will delve into any and all topics that I might find interesting at any particular moment, one of the recurring themes, as you may already have noticed, will be my obsession with baseball. Therefore, let me take this moment to post a small disclaimer in relation to my sports coverage, which admittedly will be somewhat patchwork and deeply biased in pro green-and-gold and red-and-white directions. (Translation: Oakland A's and St. Louis Cardinals, both of whom I care about far more than is healthy for anyone's mental health).
Baseblogging Notes on Sparks of Dementia:
1) I know every stat. Sometimes, however, I prefer not to cite them, or I post out of emotion or outrage at somebody's current piss-poor performance and/or possible screwing the pooch of said team's playoff chances. As noted in my header, I make no guarantees of rationality (see: "I Hate Joe Kennedy.") This is my blog, after all, and I want to feel free to vent and blow off steam instead of having to put together an objective, analytical argument. Check out my sidebar - any of the SportsBlogs cited (AN, VEB, PR) will fill that role for you. There will be plenty of analysis, believe me, but as a side note. This blog is about my reactions as a fan, not my machinations as a sabermetric nerd. (And yes, I do know what VORP, OPS, and all other "nerdy" stats are. I even know how to calculate most of them).
2) I will also make no secret of my blatant favoritism - I'm a sports fan writing from a sports fan's perspective, not a journalistic standpoint, and if I call a Red Sox pitcher (say, Curt Schilling) an asshat, you can rest assured that at least you will never see me writing for a major newspaper and getting away with that. By the way, Curt Schilling is, in fact, an asshat. See my groups listing on Facebook.
3) If you come on here after a big A's/Cards win, you may expect to find me gloating freely. If a loss, expect to find me in a corner sobbing. Seeing as I am a devout agnostic, this is the closest thing that I get to a religion, and believe me, this is serious stuff.
4) If you don't know who Adam Wainwright is, you'd better brush up. I love him. Love him.
5) Let's establish this from the get-go so there is no confusion later.
People I Dislike (And Will Insult Freely)
The New York Yankees, esp. Alex Rodriguez
The Boston Red Sox, esp. Curt Schilling
The Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA, esp. everyone
The Texas Rangers, esp. George W. Bush
List subject to revision. If you have a problem with any of it, skip it.
That's about all I can think of right now. If warranted, further Notes on Baseblogging will appear later.
Baseblogging Notes on Sparks of Dementia:
1) I know every stat. Sometimes, however, I prefer not to cite them, or I post out of emotion or outrage at somebody's current piss-poor performance and/or possible screwing the pooch of said team's playoff chances. As noted in my header, I make no guarantees of rationality (see: "I Hate Joe Kennedy.") This is my blog, after all, and I want to feel free to vent and blow off steam instead of having to put together an objective, analytical argument. Check out my sidebar - any of the SportsBlogs cited (AN, VEB, PR) will fill that role for you. There will be plenty of analysis, believe me, but as a side note. This blog is about my reactions as a fan, not my machinations as a sabermetric nerd. (And yes, I do know what VORP, OPS, and all other "nerdy" stats are. I even know how to calculate most of them).
2) I will also make no secret of my blatant favoritism - I'm a sports fan writing from a sports fan's perspective, not a journalistic standpoint, and if I call a Red Sox pitcher (say, Curt Schilling) an asshat, you can rest assured that at least you will never see me writing for a major newspaper and getting away with that. By the way, Curt Schilling is, in fact, an asshat. See my groups listing on Facebook.
3) If you come on here after a big A's/Cards win, you may expect to find me gloating freely. If a loss, expect to find me in a corner sobbing. Seeing as I am a devout agnostic, this is the closest thing that I get to a religion, and believe me, this is serious stuff.
4) If you don't know who Adam Wainwright is, you'd better brush up. I love him. Love him.
5) Let's establish this from the get-go so there is no confusion later.
People I Dislike (And Will Insult Freely)
The New York Yankees, esp. Alex Rodriguez
The Boston Red Sox, esp. Curt Schilling
The Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA, esp. everyone
The Texas Rangers, esp. George W. Bush
List subject to revision. If you have a problem with any of it, skip it.
That's about all I can think of right now. If warranted, further Notes on Baseblogging will appear later.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen.
Sorry for the ridiculous third post in a row within a matter of hours - I must seem like one of those stream-of-consciousness people, which I'm not. And I've never been accused of loquacity either, so this probably comes as a surprise and won't happen again once I get over the first transcendent high of new bloggerdom. But I couldn't let this pass unremarked, and especially not after the gut-wrenching loss that the A's just suffered at the hands of the Twinkies. I happened to look up at the St. Louis game, which I was following only marginally after Jeff Weaver screwed the pooch, and noticed that the final score was Cards 6, Astros 5. It had been 5-4 Astros going into the bottom of the ninth, and I had just braced myself for that devastating double-loss day when neither of my teams can get their heads out of their collective asses and instead meekly hand the game to the other team. Nes pas, when Albert Pujols is in the building.
In case you are not aware, Brad Lidge (Astros closer) is Albert's bitch. I will never forget watching NLCS Game 5 on a television purloined from my grandmother (in our defense, she was out of town and would have had no objection even if she did know) and watching Albert launch that colossal moonshot in the top of the ninth to win the game for the Cards. My sister and I jumped out of our seats and danced around ecstatically. Seriously. Then Mark Mulder, who's fast slipping in my good graces after his terrible season this year, gave it up in Game 6, but you know. Can't have everything and all that.
So, El Hombre worked his magic once again tonight. Two runners on, two out, Cards trying not to follow up Chris Carpenter's gem with a Weaver-piloted clunker. Albert yanks one to left field, Busch Stadium goes berserk, happy feelings abound. Except, not if you're Brad Lidge, and have been presented with resounding proof that you are, in fact, still Albert Pujols' bitch.
That's gotta be in his head for a loooong time now.
Roy Oswalt vs. Jason Marquis tomorrow. My usual expectation of Marquis is that he will suck, and I'm usually not disappointed in this regard. Right now, please join me in this heartfelt and entirely unsarcastic plea:
LET'S GO CHICAGO WHITE SOX!!!!!!
(why, you might ask? They are playing the LaAAAaAAA, only one of the most evil teams on earth).
In case you are not aware, Brad Lidge (Astros closer) is Albert's bitch. I will never forget watching NLCS Game 5 on a television purloined from my grandmother (in our defense, she was out of town and would have had no objection even if she did know) and watching Albert launch that colossal moonshot in the top of the ninth to win the game for the Cards. My sister and I jumped out of our seats and danced around ecstatically. Seriously. Then Mark Mulder, who's fast slipping in my good graces after his terrible season this year, gave it up in Game 6, but you know. Can't have everything and all that.
So, El Hombre worked his magic once again tonight. Two runners on, two out, Cards trying not to follow up Chris Carpenter's gem with a Weaver-piloted clunker. Albert yanks one to left field, Busch Stadium goes berserk, happy feelings abound. Except, not if you're Brad Lidge, and have been presented with resounding proof that you are, in fact, still Albert Pujols' bitch.
That's gotta be in his head for a loooong time now.
Roy Oswalt vs. Jason Marquis tomorrow. My usual expectation of Marquis is that he will suck, and I'm usually not disappointed in this regard. Right now, please join me in this heartfelt and entirely unsarcastic plea:
LET'S GO CHICAGO WHITE SOX!!!!!!
(why, you might ask? They are playing the LaAAAaAAA, only one of the most evil teams on earth).
I Hate Joe Kennedy
(Or, you learn where my loyalties lie. This is a preview of what is to come: long posts re: the Oakland A's and St. Louis Cardinals, with the Colorado Rockies thrown in for variety. I told you that a lot of this blog would deal with baseball).
Situation: Oakland A's 5, Minnesota 3, bottom of the eighth at the House of Horrors in Minneapolis better known as the Twinkie Dome, better known as the Metrodome. A's doing their best to hang on to a 5.5 game lead in the AL West and slice their magic number down in a desperate attempt to fend off their usual September slide and another humiliating choke to the Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA. I think they may do it this year, but sure as hell not if what just happened happens again.
Joe Kennedy is somebody who I've never understood Athletics' management's fixation with. Great ERA, because he lets everyone else's runners score instead of his own, sort of like the Jose Mesa of the AL. Terrible WHIP of 1.71, last time I checked. (In case you don't speak Baseballese, this number is an estimation of the number of walks and hits a pitcher permits per inning. In this example, it means Kennedy allows nearly two baserunners per inning). And it just bit him in the ass... I knew we weren't going to get through the meat of the Twins' lineup unscathed, and sure enough, JFK coughs up 3 runs to give the Twins a 6-5 edge.
(Note: I exaggerated. According to Yahoo! Sports, JFK's WHIP is 1.25. Still not stellar).
Now, it's not over yet, and Twinks closer Joe Nathan threw 30+ pitches last night, so there's still hope, but the A's absolutely must end this jackassery of bullpen management. Justin Duchscherer and Kiko Calero are the go-to guys in late, tight, close games that you really need to win late in the season, and Calero was kept in long enough to get a double play in the seventh, then pulled. Duchscherer was brought in to close the barn door after Kennedy had kindly let all the cows out.
Agh... I just can't stand this. September is going to turn my hair gray. Memo to Ken Macha: Use Kennedy if you must. Certainly not in situations like this. I just don't trust him, and I never have.
Update: 7-5 Twins win. Ugh..... wow, there hasn't been a loss that felt so much like a punch to the gut in a long time. I guess I know that I am unhealthily invested in the outcome of baseball games, and I've been trying to lessen my addiction, but apparently it hasn't worked. I feel like crying. The LAAAA can't keep losing on every night that we do.
I guess painting my fingernails green and gold didn't help much. Excuse me, I'm going to go crawl off into my corner now.
Situation: Oakland A's 5, Minnesota 3, bottom of the eighth at the House of Horrors in Minneapolis better known as the Twinkie Dome, better known as the Metrodome. A's doing their best to hang on to a 5.5 game lead in the AL West and slice their magic number down in a desperate attempt to fend off their usual September slide and another humiliating choke to the Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA. I think they may do it this year, but sure as hell not if what just happened happens again.
Joe Kennedy is somebody who I've never understood Athletics' management's fixation with. Great ERA, because he lets everyone else's runners score instead of his own, sort of like the Jose Mesa of the AL. Terrible WHIP of 1.71, last time I checked. (In case you don't speak Baseballese, this number is an estimation of the number of walks and hits a pitcher permits per inning. In this example, it means Kennedy allows nearly two baserunners per inning). And it just bit him in the ass... I knew we weren't going to get through the meat of the Twins' lineup unscathed, and sure enough, JFK coughs up 3 runs to give the Twins a 6-5 edge.
(Note: I exaggerated. According to Yahoo! Sports, JFK's WHIP is 1.25. Still not stellar).
Now, it's not over yet, and Twinks closer Joe Nathan threw 30+ pitches last night, so there's still hope, but the A's absolutely must end this jackassery of bullpen management. Justin Duchscherer and Kiko Calero are the go-to guys in late, tight, close games that you really need to win late in the season, and Calero was kept in long enough to get a double play in the seventh, then pulled. Duchscherer was brought in to close the barn door after Kennedy had kindly let all the cows out.
Agh... I just can't stand this. September is going to turn my hair gray. Memo to Ken Macha: Use Kennedy if you must. Certainly not in situations like this. I just don't trust him, and I never have.
Update: 7-5 Twins win. Ugh..... wow, there hasn't been a loss that felt so much like a punch to the gut in a long time. I guess I know that I am unhealthily invested in the outcome of baseball games, and I've been trying to lessen my addiction, but apparently it hasn't worked. I feel like crying. The LAAAA can't keep losing on every night that we do.
I guess painting my fingernails green and gold didn't help much. Excuse me, I'm going to go crawl off into my corner now.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Classical Update
So, I got into the history class, which I am thoroughly jazzed about. The only problem is that "The Anglo-Saxons," which is the book that I'm currently slogging through in preparation for class each day, is so irredeemably dense that I constantly find myself reading a paragraph, understanding each word individually, but having to reread again to make sure I know what it means as a whole. And, geek that I am, I already have a rough idea of what I want to do for a conference (end-of-semester) project: "The Kings on the Island: The Royal Scots of Iona and their Culture." Yeah, so I'm a nerd. Lay it on me.
That reminds me... I haven't read the Ecclesiastical History yet, and I've got another class tomorrow. Er... I'll get to it in a second. It's only seven PM.I didn't get into the politics class, which is unfortunate but not heartbreaking. Besides, there were an assload of books that probably would have overloaded my already strained bag, and I got into my first second choice, a philosophy course about rationalism and empiricism. If you want dense, talk about dense... I have a feeling I'll be going through those texts with a microscope in one hand and a dictionary in the other.
Still, I'm excited. I like thinking. I like learning, and I think that my brain has had enough of a summer to wallow in, no matter how perfectly delightful that summer was. So, yeah.My third class, and one which I am sinfully excited about, is my First-Year Studies course, which for me is fiction. Writing is my passion, and it says something about that if you consider that I just had my first class - today - and I'm already madly in love with the course.
I love to write. I think about words and I lie awake at night exploring the inner intuition of my characters. I just wrote my first piece, "Memories of a Dream," and if you know anything about my proclivities, you may be able to guess who the main character is based on.Otherwise... I'm settling really well into life at SLC. Truth is, I love it here - it just feels so much like my kind of place, and I've already got a core group of friends. Emily and Markel, my roommates, to start with, and then Steve (who is himself an entire entry, lol) Katie O and Kate, Chet, Amie, and many others. It's just so nice to have a group to march down to Bates at dinnertime and hog an entire table, as authoritatively as if you were upperclassmen and knew everyone, dammit.
I'll definitely be happy to see my family at Christmas, though. My little sister and I have a vast and complicated network of our own stories that are updated daily through email, but it's not the same as telling them. And it'll be fun to see my parents - my guess is that after four months, everybody's willing to forget your irritating little foibles and just be happy to socialize, but after a month, the honeymoon's over and they're ready to pack you back off. ;)
Actually, though, my parents are pretty cool. And I must have mentioned that I love shared iTunes - I desperately need to find a music card now, since I've discovered so many new songs that my little heart desires.
SLC lost power on Saturday afternoon, and it didn't come back on until yesterday (Monday). Yeesh. So, on Saturday night, I went into New York City for the first time ever, with Jasmin, Christina, Lily, Sara, and some other kids that I didn't know at first. It was raining the whole time, we rode the subway to Union Square for dinner and walked to the Village for milkshakes, and it was incredibly cool. I'd never done anything like that before. It was definitely an awesome way to experience the City for the first time, although I have to see what it looks like a) in daytime and b) sans the ever-present rain.
We rode the train back to Bronxville at 12:30 and sloshed back to a depressingly wet and still dark campus, and sleepwalked through the next couple of days, suffering ravenous tech-addict withdrawal symptoms. It was like mother-effin' Christmas when the power (and Internet) came back on, and we all tore onto our respective computers to get our fix. Scary... I swear that the book Feed, by M.T. Anderson, is entirely too eerily accurate.
Other than that... the little things that people complain about, like the food (which isn't bad at all) and the somewhat unorthodox registration procedures (which are cool and unique) don't bother me at all. I guess it's just because I'm so happy to be here and I feel like my life is really beginning. Talk later...
That reminds me... I haven't read the Ecclesiastical History yet, and I've got another class tomorrow. Er... I'll get to it in a second. It's only seven PM.I didn't get into the politics class, which is unfortunate but not heartbreaking. Besides, there were an assload of books that probably would have overloaded my already strained bag, and I got into my first second choice, a philosophy course about rationalism and empiricism. If you want dense, talk about dense... I have a feeling I'll be going through those texts with a microscope in one hand and a dictionary in the other.
Still, I'm excited. I like thinking. I like learning, and I think that my brain has had enough of a summer to wallow in, no matter how perfectly delightful that summer was. So, yeah.My third class, and one which I am sinfully excited about, is my First-Year Studies course, which for me is fiction. Writing is my passion, and it says something about that if you consider that I just had my first class - today - and I'm already madly in love with the course.
I love to write. I think about words and I lie awake at night exploring the inner intuition of my characters. I just wrote my first piece, "Memories of a Dream," and if you know anything about my proclivities, you may be able to guess who the main character is based on.Otherwise... I'm settling really well into life at SLC. Truth is, I love it here - it just feels so much like my kind of place, and I've already got a core group of friends. Emily and Markel, my roommates, to start with, and then Steve (who is himself an entire entry, lol) Katie O and Kate, Chet, Amie, and many others. It's just so nice to have a group to march down to Bates at dinnertime and hog an entire table, as authoritatively as if you were upperclassmen and knew everyone, dammit.
I'll definitely be happy to see my family at Christmas, though. My little sister and I have a vast and complicated network of our own stories that are updated daily through email, but it's not the same as telling them. And it'll be fun to see my parents - my guess is that after four months, everybody's willing to forget your irritating little foibles and just be happy to socialize, but after a month, the honeymoon's over and they're ready to pack you back off. ;)
Actually, though, my parents are pretty cool. And I must have mentioned that I love shared iTunes - I desperately need to find a music card now, since I've discovered so many new songs that my little heart desires.
SLC lost power on Saturday afternoon, and it didn't come back on until yesterday (Monday). Yeesh. So, on Saturday night, I went into New York City for the first time ever, with Jasmin, Christina, Lily, Sara, and some other kids that I didn't know at first. It was raining the whole time, we rode the subway to Union Square for dinner and walked to the Village for milkshakes, and it was incredibly cool. I'd never done anything like that before. It was definitely an awesome way to experience the City for the first time, although I have to see what it looks like a) in daytime and b) sans the ever-present rain.
We rode the train back to Bronxville at 12:30 and sloshed back to a depressingly wet and still dark campus, and sleepwalked through the next couple of days, suffering ravenous tech-addict withdrawal symptoms. It was like mother-effin' Christmas when the power (and Internet) came back on, and we all tore onto our respective computers to get our fix. Scary... I swear that the book Feed, by M.T. Anderson, is entirely too eerily accurate.
Other than that... the little things that people complain about, like the food (which isn't bad at all) and the somewhat unorthodox registration procedures (which are cool and unique) don't bother me at all. I guess it's just because I'm so happy to be here and I feel like my life is really beginning. Talk later...
Monday, August 28, 2006
Transformation into an Adult (Possibly)
So I actually did find the post office, got everything retrieved, and only had a minor heart attack when my third box wasn't originally in. I probably harassed the post office people too much, but at least I know where it is, and I figured out how to open my mailbox. This is a big achievement. Yeah, yeah, you can stop clapping, thankya, thankya verra much.
I also got my first piece of collegiately themed gear, or two if you count the planner, but I'm sure they won't be the last. A T-shirt and a daybook, the first time in my life that I've kept one, but I'll need it to keep track of reading assignments, papers, conference projects, time priority and on and on.
Today, I met my don (Joan Silber) and the rest of my First-Year Studies class. Looks like fun. It was also really cool - it just felt more like actual college rather than a 400-person frosh party. I even got my first assignment, due next Tuesday, when we have our first actual college class. I'm also going to start signing up for interviews tomorrow. SLC registration is a bit different - you get to interview your professors before you sign up for their courses, asking about expectations, conference work, etc., etc.
So I'm interviewing five professors for two course spots.The two courses I really REALLY want to take:
The Medieval Foundations of English Art & History: An Interdisciplinary Workshop.
- Why? I love England and Scotland, probably because I'm mostly Scots/English (clan MacAllister... yay) and I want to do my junior year in Oxford, so this would be a great prerequisite.
Elections, Campaigns, and Political Parties in the United States: Democracy and Disenchantment
- Why? Because I'm pretty liberal, hold the opinion that Bush stole the 2000 election, and am curious to see why this might be and the rationale behind the giant "screw the government" mentality. Not that I disagree, but it would be a really interesting exploration.
Now, if I could just find those signup sheets...
Trivialities:
- I got some great new headphones that have awesome sound.
- I love my bike.
- I am NOT the only baseball freak who brought her mitt and ball to SLC! Kate, who lives down the hall, did the same thing, and we're totally going to play catch.
- I'm going to play for the SLC Gryphons (softball).
- Facebook is totally addicting.
- Hopstop.com is really useful for people like me, who have to rely on the NYC train/buses to get to LaGuardia Airport so I can fly home for Christmas.
More later....
I also got my first piece of collegiately themed gear, or two if you count the planner, but I'm sure they won't be the last. A T-shirt and a daybook, the first time in my life that I've kept one, but I'll need it to keep track of reading assignments, papers, conference projects, time priority and on and on.
Today, I met my don (Joan Silber) and the rest of my First-Year Studies class. Looks like fun. It was also really cool - it just felt more like actual college rather than a 400-person frosh party. I even got my first assignment, due next Tuesday, when we have our first actual college class. I'm also going to start signing up for interviews tomorrow. SLC registration is a bit different - you get to interview your professors before you sign up for their courses, asking about expectations, conference work, etc., etc.
So I'm interviewing five professors for two course spots.The two courses I really REALLY want to take:
The Medieval Foundations of English Art & History: An Interdisciplinary Workshop.
- Why? I love England and Scotland, probably because I'm mostly Scots/English (clan MacAllister... yay) and I want to do my junior year in Oxford, so this would be a great prerequisite.
Elections, Campaigns, and Political Parties in the United States: Democracy and Disenchantment
- Why? Because I'm pretty liberal, hold the opinion that Bush stole the 2000 election, and am curious to see why this might be and the rationale behind the giant "screw the government" mentality. Not that I disagree, but it would be a really interesting exploration.
Now, if I could just find those signup sheets...
Trivialities:
- I got some great new headphones that have awesome sound.
- I love my bike.
- I am NOT the only baseball freak who brought her mitt and ball to SLC! Kate, who lives down the hall, did the same thing, and we're totally going to play catch.
- I'm going to play for the SLC Gryphons (softball).
- Facebook is totally addicting.
- Hopstop.com is really useful for people like me, who have to rely on the NYC train/buses to get to LaGuardia Airport so I can fly home for Christmas.
More later....
Relocation of an A's Fan: Or, The Hunt For Baseball In Your Dorm
As you may or may not know, I recently departed home (Colorado) for college in New York, just outside the city. Well, here I am now (and entirely too excited) and preparing to start registering for classes. 1600 miles appears to be a non-issue, as I love it here and I am seriously ready for classes to actually start. But as happy as I am to be at my first-choice school, several nagging questions remained. Such as: Is there anyone else in this entire school with whom I can talk baseball?
So, I began my hunt. As soon as I got my laptop set up and connected to the campus network, I opened MLB.com to check on the prognosis of my beloved A's and Cards. My RA came in, took one look, and said, "Baseball fan?" I said, "Yeah!" She laughed and said, "The homepage was a giveaway."
But I still had not found that elusive someone. My roommate liked baseball, but didn't really follow it or have a team to support. So, although it would be nice to have a baseball fan in residence, it was not to be. Onwards rolled the mighty search.
While walking to an orientation meeting, I spotted someone in a Giants shirt. I pounced, figuring that a Giants fan was better than no fan at all. Turns out, the guy wasn't even a Giants fan; he just wore the shirt since he was from San Francisco. Crap... denied.
So, it happened by accident. I was asking someone in a Cubs shirt if they were a baseball person (they weren't, but they had lived in Chicago and liked the Cubs) when someone overheard me and said, "BASEBALL! Yeah, I'm a total baseball person!"
She's from Oregon, so she supports the Mariners and the Giants, but she lives two doors down the hall in my dorm and we are already plotting to hijack someone's TV when the postseason rolls around. Having baseball on my laptop makes me feel quite comfortable, at home, and now I've posted all my pictures from a summer of attending games over my bunk.
There's me and Gillian, me and Swish, Coors Field, the Cardinals bullpen... on and on and on. My autographed A's hat is dangling from my bunk post, my jersey is in the closet, and you can bet that when the A's make the postseason, I will be strutting around campus like a lunatic, proudly sporting the green and gold, and pissing off all the New Yorkers who wear their logo-emblazoned hats with a flat brim, rapper-style. (I personally think that style is entirely stupid. ;)
I'm really happy to be where I am. I signed up for a theatre group, will be taking a full courseload (writing, and hopefully history and politics as well) and the best part - I am planning to play softball for the Gryphons, my college's team. I know how to hit and I know how to throw (that's why I'm in right field just watching the dandelions grow) and whenever I play a game, I will ALWAYS wear the high socks. :D
Let's go OAKLAND!!!! :D :D :D
So, I began my hunt. As soon as I got my laptop set up and connected to the campus network, I opened MLB.com to check on the prognosis of my beloved A's and Cards. My RA came in, took one look, and said, "Baseball fan?" I said, "Yeah!" She laughed and said, "The homepage was a giveaway."
But I still had not found that elusive someone. My roommate liked baseball, but didn't really follow it or have a team to support. So, although it would be nice to have a baseball fan in residence, it was not to be. Onwards rolled the mighty search.
While walking to an orientation meeting, I spotted someone in a Giants shirt. I pounced, figuring that a Giants fan was better than no fan at all. Turns out, the guy wasn't even a Giants fan; he just wore the shirt since he was from San Francisco. Crap... denied.
So, it happened by accident. I was asking someone in a Cubs shirt if they were a baseball person (they weren't, but they had lived in Chicago and liked the Cubs) when someone overheard me and said, "BASEBALL! Yeah, I'm a total baseball person!"
She's from Oregon, so she supports the Mariners and the Giants, but she lives two doors down the hall in my dorm and we are already plotting to hijack someone's TV when the postseason rolls around. Having baseball on my laptop makes me feel quite comfortable, at home, and now I've posted all my pictures from a summer of attending games over my bunk.
There's me and Gillian, me and Swish, Coors Field, the Cardinals bullpen... on and on and on. My autographed A's hat is dangling from my bunk post, my jersey is in the closet, and you can bet that when the A's make the postseason, I will be strutting around campus like a lunatic, proudly sporting the green and gold, and pissing off all the New Yorkers who wear their logo-emblazoned hats with a flat brim, rapper-style. (I personally think that style is entirely stupid. ;)
I'm really happy to be where I am. I signed up for a theatre group, will be taking a full courseload (writing, and hopefully history and politics as well) and the best part - I am planning to play softball for the Gryphons, my college's team. I know how to hit and I know how to throw (that's why I'm in right field just watching the dandelions grow) and whenever I play a game, I will ALWAYS wear the high socks. :D
Let's go OAKLAND!!!! :D :D :D
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Indoctrination of an Ingenue
It's definitely interesting. Everyone's still in the upheaval period, still figuring out how to do the rudimentary stuff like feeding and clothing oneself before moving onto the heavier stuff like academics and - gasp - laundry. There have been a shitload of events to date, with seemingly every minute of time ruthlessly monopolized while we, the helpless frosh, are inundated with everything we'll need to know in four years at SLC. It feels like a lot to absorb, but as everyone's adjusting to life on their own, it's getting better.
Personally, I'm looking forward to things settling down into smaller niches. Big group events are all well and good, but they're not why I came to SLC - if I wanted that, plus a raging party scene, I could have gone to hometown CU Boulder for considerably less money. I came to SLC because I wanted the privacy and the personalized educational experience, and although the various parties and seminars are fun (and it's wonderful to finally have a social life!) what I really like right now are the quiet moments when I can just chill out in my dorm and kabitz about the Internet. I still need some time to get acclimated and adjusted, which will come. This is going to be pretty awesome.
Things I Need To Do:
1) Find the damn post office and pick up my printer and books before they get mailed back home again, as the cost of postage to send them back would undoubtedly irritate my parents.
2) Finish reading the course catalog.
3) Stop stressing so much.
I'll just work on it, shall I....
Personally, I'm looking forward to things settling down into smaller niches. Big group events are all well and good, but they're not why I came to SLC - if I wanted that, plus a raging party scene, I could have gone to hometown CU Boulder for considerably less money. I came to SLC because I wanted the privacy and the personalized educational experience, and although the various parties and seminars are fun (and it's wonderful to finally have a social life!) what I really like right now are the quiet moments when I can just chill out in my dorm and kabitz about the Internet. I still need some time to get acclimated and adjusted, which will come. This is going to be pretty awesome.
Things I Need To Do:
1) Find the damn post office and pick up my printer and books before they get mailed back home again, as the cost of postage to send them back would undoubtedly irritate my parents.
2) Finish reading the course catalog.
3) Stop stressing so much.
I'll just work on it, shall I....
Sunday, August 13, 2006
A Special Summer with the Rockies
Something funny happened this summer. It wasn't just my rabid anticipation to quit the modest foothills of Evergreen, Colorado, and jet cross-country to New York, where I'm starting my freshman year in college this fall. It was something a little different, something which made this summer one of the best in recent memory.
I discovered the Rockies.
Well, it wasn't as if I'd been unaware of them before. Born in Denver, and having lived in Colorado for the greater part of my formative years with the exception of a four-year detour out East, I did at least have a working knowledge of the boys in purple and silver. However, my family moved back in 1997, and by then, the Rockies' brief flirtation with success - the 1995 Wild Card and the Blake Street Bombers - had already evanesced into distant memory. Larry Walker, Todd Helton, Vinny Castilla - they were all still around - or in Helton's case, just starting on the way up - but the Rockies began their fade right around then, vanishing into ignominy permanently in the NL West cellar.
I'm a girl who honestly, truly, and completely loves baseball. During the aforementioned detour to the East, my family lived in Columbus, Ohio, and we got to 10-15 games a year (all with dugout seats) for the Columbus Clippers, the Triple-A affiliate of the New York Yankees. My two sisters and I would play "baseball" with our dad in the backyard, using the balls that the players would roll to us over the dugout, taking our gloves along wherever we went, telling stories about the players, and more. Ah, the glory days of youth.
Naturally, we were Yankees fans for quite a while, but eventually started to drift off them, and the acquisition of A-Rod just killed the franchise for us. My younger sister, who's also my best friend, and I had already moved onto our current #1 - the Oakland Athletics - and eventually, the St. Louis Cardinals joined the ranks as well. But not the Rockies. Not yet.
There is something of a tradition in our house of following the Rockies, if only to groan at all the bad decisions made by Dan O'Dowd, Clint Hurdle, and Co. We didn't pay much attention to them in the grand scheme of things, and generally expected them to inhabit the cellar. They never disappointed us in this regard.
That changed this summer. It started when my dad bought tickets to all three of the Rockies/Athletics games for my high school graduation gift. And, well, the A's are my favorite, so I couldn't exactly root against them, and I wasn't yet a Rockies believer. So I was there for all three games - the first two were a disappointment, the third was awesome - and managed to snag a Ladies Night voucher on Wednesday.
This introduced my sister and I to the lovely concept of free tickets, which we took full advantage of. All three of us - my two sisters and I - went to the July 5th game against the Giants and freely rooted for the Rockies, partly because we dislike the Giants and Barroids Bonds intensely. But something happened. We didn't root for the Rockies just because we had to. The Rockies were fun. They played hard. They actually ran out ground balls, unlike the old, slow, lazy farts with San Francisco across their chests. There was a spark among the fans. Even in Denver, notoriously known as Broncos country, people cared about their baseball.
My other favorite team, the Cardinals, hit town for a July 25th and 26th pair of games, both of which a combination of sisters and I attended (myself and younger for the first, myself and both for the second) and, well, I can't root against the Cards either. But this time, even though I (admittedly) cheered the Cards on to victory in both games, I felt a little bad for having to root against the Rockies to do so.
Somewhere along the line, the conversion, or addition, had taken place. We were Rockies fans (and when I say "we," I mean my younger sister and myself -- my older sister likes baseball, but isn't particularly passionate about any team). Coors Field is a beautiful ballpark, the Wednesday night free tickets are a blast, and the Rockies are a young, passionate team that is just a lot of fun to watch. (Management incompetence aside, but that's a topic for another diary). Also, I have a sneaking suspicion that Brad Hawpe may just be the reason that we got so interested in the first place. He's a good player, fun to watch, and it does not hurt that the view of him from behind is, er, extremely aesthetically pleasing. :D
The last game that my younger sister and I could get to was August 2, against the Brewers - she had two weeks of the Aerial Dance Festival up in Boulder and I was leaving for college after that. Oddly enough, this turned out to be quite possibly the best game of the lot. More free tickets landed us in the first row of the second deck - perfect seats - and we sat there throughout batting practice, making jokes about how little we knew about the Brewers and refusing to budge even when a brief and intense pregame rainstorm swept through and splattered us.
The game started, and we rooted for the Rockies. We rooted our hearts out. We wore purple, black, and white to the game, and we took every opportunity to cheer for the hometown nine.
The game started - the outcome was never really in doubt, as the Rockies plated four in the first and four thereafter, to end up with a final score of 8-1. But the game itself was just a thing of beauty. We weren't really stressing over how things were going to turn out, it was a beautiful night, and it was our last game together for the summer. We were almost wishing that that the Brewers would mount a big rally just so it didn't have to end.
At one point, I said, "Rockies, hit a home run. I want an excuse to stand up and scream." Perhaps an inning later, Todd Helton took a Brewers reliever downtown, and I did just that. It was transcendent.
During the seventh inning, we got ice cream, then stood by the outfield boxes, gazing out over the field and just drinking in how beautiful it was. We were already planning to buy tickets there next year when I got home from college - we'd go on Wednesdays and free-ticket our way through the season. During the eighth inning, as the game was drawing to a close, we both got a little choked up because of how supremely special it had been to spend the summer with the Rockies. We weren't always rooting for them, but in the end, we had become believers in purple and silver.
The Rockies weren't just the Rockies, the rather useless and overlooked hometown team that occasionally cropped up in local sports pages and snide commentaries. They were ours. We had grown to care for them, to honestly cheer for them and want them to win on their own merits. We wanted them to do well, to keep on trucking, and to, hopefully, shock the world by pulling out the NL West title.
As far as they go, I'll be cheering for them, even though I'll be in New York instead of Colorado and won't be able to be there in person for them. So do it, Rockies. You can. And thanks for an absolutely terrific, unbelievably awesome summer that we got to spend with you guys over at 20th and Blake.
I discovered the Rockies.
Well, it wasn't as if I'd been unaware of them before. Born in Denver, and having lived in Colorado for the greater part of my formative years with the exception of a four-year detour out East, I did at least have a working knowledge of the boys in purple and silver. However, my family moved back in 1997, and by then, the Rockies' brief flirtation with success - the 1995 Wild Card and the Blake Street Bombers - had already evanesced into distant memory. Larry Walker, Todd Helton, Vinny Castilla - they were all still around - or in Helton's case, just starting on the way up - but the Rockies began their fade right around then, vanishing into ignominy permanently in the NL West cellar.
I'm a girl who honestly, truly, and completely loves baseball. During the aforementioned detour to the East, my family lived in Columbus, Ohio, and we got to 10-15 games a year (all with dugout seats) for the Columbus Clippers, the Triple-A affiliate of the New York Yankees. My two sisters and I would play "baseball" with our dad in the backyard, using the balls that the players would roll to us over the dugout, taking our gloves along wherever we went, telling stories about the players, and more. Ah, the glory days of youth.
Naturally, we were Yankees fans for quite a while, but eventually started to drift off them, and the acquisition of A-Rod just killed the franchise for us. My younger sister, who's also my best friend, and I had already moved onto our current #1 - the Oakland Athletics - and eventually, the St. Louis Cardinals joined the ranks as well. But not the Rockies. Not yet.
There is something of a tradition in our house of following the Rockies, if only to groan at all the bad decisions made by Dan O'Dowd, Clint Hurdle, and Co. We didn't pay much attention to them in the grand scheme of things, and generally expected them to inhabit the cellar. They never disappointed us in this regard.
That changed this summer. It started when my dad bought tickets to all three of the Rockies/Athletics games for my high school graduation gift. And, well, the A's are my favorite, so I couldn't exactly root against them, and I wasn't yet a Rockies believer. So I was there for all three games - the first two were a disappointment, the third was awesome - and managed to snag a Ladies Night voucher on Wednesday.
This introduced my sister and I to the lovely concept of free tickets, which we took full advantage of. All three of us - my two sisters and I - went to the July 5th game against the Giants and freely rooted for the Rockies, partly because we dislike the Giants and Barroids Bonds intensely. But something happened. We didn't root for the Rockies just because we had to. The Rockies were fun. They played hard. They actually ran out ground balls, unlike the old, slow, lazy farts with San Francisco across their chests. There was a spark among the fans. Even in Denver, notoriously known as Broncos country, people cared about their baseball.
My other favorite team, the Cardinals, hit town for a July 25th and 26th pair of games, both of which a combination of sisters and I attended (myself and younger for the first, myself and both for the second) and, well, I can't root against the Cards either. But this time, even though I (admittedly) cheered the Cards on to victory in both games, I felt a little bad for having to root against the Rockies to do so.
Somewhere along the line, the conversion, or addition, had taken place. We were Rockies fans (and when I say "we," I mean my younger sister and myself -- my older sister likes baseball, but isn't particularly passionate about any team). Coors Field is a beautiful ballpark, the Wednesday night free tickets are a blast, and the Rockies are a young, passionate team that is just a lot of fun to watch. (Management incompetence aside, but that's a topic for another diary). Also, I have a sneaking suspicion that Brad Hawpe may just be the reason that we got so interested in the first place. He's a good player, fun to watch, and it does not hurt that the view of him from behind is, er, extremely aesthetically pleasing. :D
The last game that my younger sister and I could get to was August 2, against the Brewers - she had two weeks of the Aerial Dance Festival up in Boulder and I was leaving for college after that. Oddly enough, this turned out to be quite possibly the best game of the lot. More free tickets landed us in the first row of the second deck - perfect seats - and we sat there throughout batting practice, making jokes about how little we knew about the Brewers and refusing to budge even when a brief and intense pregame rainstorm swept through and splattered us.
The game started, and we rooted for the Rockies. We rooted our hearts out. We wore purple, black, and white to the game, and we took every opportunity to cheer for the hometown nine.
The game started - the outcome was never really in doubt, as the Rockies plated four in the first and four thereafter, to end up with a final score of 8-1. But the game itself was just a thing of beauty. We weren't really stressing over how things were going to turn out, it was a beautiful night, and it was our last game together for the summer. We were almost wishing that that the Brewers would mount a big rally just so it didn't have to end.
At one point, I said, "Rockies, hit a home run. I want an excuse to stand up and scream." Perhaps an inning later, Todd Helton took a Brewers reliever downtown, and I did just that. It was transcendent.
During the seventh inning, we got ice cream, then stood by the outfield boxes, gazing out over the field and just drinking in how beautiful it was. We were already planning to buy tickets there next year when I got home from college - we'd go on Wednesdays and free-ticket our way through the season. During the eighth inning, as the game was drawing to a close, we both got a little choked up because of how supremely special it had been to spend the summer with the Rockies. We weren't always rooting for them, but in the end, we had become believers in purple and silver.
The Rockies weren't just the Rockies, the rather useless and overlooked hometown team that occasionally cropped up in local sports pages and snide commentaries. They were ours. We had grown to care for them, to honestly cheer for them and want them to win on their own merits. We wanted them to do well, to keep on trucking, and to, hopefully, shock the world by pulling out the NL West title.
As far as they go, I'll be cheering for them, even though I'll be in New York instead of Colorado and won't be able to be there in person for them. So do it, Rockies. You can. And thanks for an absolutely terrific, unbelievably awesome summer that we got to spend with you guys over at 20th and Blake.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Indoctrination of an A's Virgin
Anybody who knows me well will probably tell you that my life centers largely around my passion for some certain green and gold-clad fellows. If they knew me really well and you asked, say, my sister, she might tell you that I tend to get a little obsessive. But there are some things even she doesn't know, like when I go to 7-Eleven and get a Slurpee, my straws are green and yellow. I have been known to coordinate my nail polish to avoid painting my fingers a color belonging to the team that the A's are playing that day, and if that IS the case, to take it off posthaste. (Occasionally I fall down on the job. I put part of the blame for the disastrous Texas series on the fact that I was still wearing blue polish. The rest of it might have had something to do with the fact that our beloveds sucked, badly, at that time).
I have loved the A's since 2003, where I fell for them during the ALDS against the hated Red Sawx. Granted, this was not the best time to become an A's fan, but it was something like trial by fire, and I still remember Harden coming on in relief and giving up the extra-inning game-ending HR to Trot Nixon in Fenway. And, of course, that is the least of the painful memories for that series....But whatever. The point was, I was in, and that was when I discovered the Big Three. That was what really cemented it. I was in love. And that's the reason that, despite all the animosity toward Mulder on AN, I can't hate him. I just can't.
I began to follow the A's. But there was one problem... I live in Colorado, and as you all know, this is not exactly a bustling mecca for AL teams except in June, and even then, you have to wait for the schedule to align just right so that the A's come HERE instead of vice versa. Well, this year, I finally got my chance to see them, live and in person, for the first time. For my high school graduation gift, my dad bought me tickets to all 3 A's games at Coors. He, my sister Gillian, and myself were scheduled for the first two, and the entire family got a present in the third.
My graduation party itself was very A's-themed - green and yellow trim on the cake, even green and yellow flowers that I picked out specially. With my graduation money, I bought an A's jersey and then neurotically tracked the package online waiting for it to arrive, making one false-alarm trip to the post office in my eagerness. Fortunately for the state of my mental health, it arrived the next day.
But at last the long-sought game days came. And I promised myself that I'd write up a nice, long report. So here goes.
GAME 1
This was a really, really big deal. We left our house around 4:30, got to Coors Field around 5:30, and spent the hour and a half before the game huddling along the third-base side with our fellow green and gold-clad faithful. You might have seen us there - I was in jersey and A's hat, Gillian was in an A's elephant hat, and we were both wearing green and gold Mardi Gras beads. (These beads are cursed. We should have known better).
Anyway, we began the autograph hunt. The first one we scored was Mark Ellis, in the high socks and all, and we zipped over there and nudged in. He started to leave as we got there, saw us, came back, and signed for us. I said, "Come back, Mark, we need you," and he said, "Thanks." I did notice that his thumb was no longer in a splint or bandage, so maybe his return is on the horizon.
We were quite pleased about this, but the hunt was far from over. Next we scored Chavez! Chavy is quite possibly my favorite, so I shuffled into the queue rapidly forming about him, extended my hat, and managed to squeak out a "Thank you so much," when he returned it to me. Then we zipped over to the other side while I got Swisher and Gillian got Zito. (We later reversed, while she nabbed Swish and I got Z). Gillian, being a scientist, wanted to know about the effects of high altitude on ballplayers, and had a rather unintentionally hilarious conversation with Z:
GILLIAN: So, Barry, I got a question.
Z: What's up?
GILLIAN: I was wondering, you know, some people come up here and get altitude sickness from the elevation. Does that affect you at all?
Z: Really?... I dunno.. I haven't really noticed anything different... I heard hangovers are worse though...
Now who did he hear that from? My guess is Swish... :D
As for Swish himself, he was really friendly and personable, shaking hands and calling everyone "honey" and telling them it was great to meet them. After this series, I have emerged with an even deeper love for him...he's AWESOME!
Last but definitely not least, we got Huston as we were going back to our seats. Five autographs! We were in paradise! :D
The game itself was...okay... up until the eighth inning. We were screaming and cheering for Danny and the A's, and finally someone in front of us turned around and asked how we knew the players so well. We answered that we followed them obsessively. She said that she'd thought we were Danny's sisters, since we kept cheering for him and rooting him on so hard and calling him "Danny Boy." :D That, obviously, really flattered us, but no, 'twas not the case. And the third run was entirely Swish's fault. He completely misjudged the ball and it cost us.
The eighth inning...sucked. First Crosby grounded into his second DP of the game to leave 'em loaded, and afterwards, Witasick and Sauerbeck combined to make wrack and ruin of Danny's game. We were making bets on whether or not that inning would ever actually end, and afterwards they went meekly in the ninth. Still, I couldn't be too depressed, I'd just seen the A's play for the first time ever. No, that came afterwards. ;)
GAME 2
This, as we all know, was very ugly, so I won't waste much time on it. There weren't many people signing before the game, so we only got Kielty and Halsey. However, we did spot Danny, so Gillian shouted at him. After a second, he raised himself up languidly on one arm, looked around at us, and nodded, then he sat back down. :D He had just been running sprints, so I assumed he wanted to sit down, but when he left, he said he'd come back later. Either he forgot or he ran out of time, because we didn't see him again. Bad Danny. We wanted to get his autograph so much, but we didn't manage it.
This time, we remembered to bring a camera, so both Gillian and I got pictures with Swish, and he put his arm around both of us. :D That was awesome. Several people speculated that he was only signing to make up for yesterday's miscue, but as he was signing the first game as well, I think it is just because Swish loves people. Later in the game he made a great catch to rob J.D. Closser of his second homer of the game, though, so something must have worked.
Here, Gillian gave Swish a card in which she'd written a note to the A's, telling them that she loved the team and wanted to thank them for being there. The front said, "Shoot for the moon -- if you miss, you'll still land among the stars." She told Swish that that made her think of him. He was quite flattered, and shook hands with her - he still had the card when he went in, and it might have even made its way into the clubhouse.
The hitting was anemic (even the balls they pounded, like the one Chavez rocketed into right-center, got chased down) Loaiza sucked (big surprise) and things looked bleak for Game 3. I was really upset, practically crying on the way home, and I wanted to see a win so badly. It did not appear to be likely.
But Game 3... oh my GOD, Game 3....
GAME 3
I have to admit, I almost chickened out of wearing my full A's regalia to this game, because we had represented ourselves so miserably in the past two. But in the end, the jersey and hat went on (no cursed beads) we chivvied our reluctant family out the door at 4:40, ran ahead while they walked, and zipped into the stadium and back down to the huddle of A's fans. I just loved sitting down there, watching the field, so close, with other fanatics of a green and gold persuasion. :D
Today, the signing was better, and we got Captain Kirk, Chad Gaudin, Scott Sauerbeck, and Witasick. (We refrained from saying anything pointed to the latter two, however much we wanted to). :D Witasick was very nice, however, going, "Hey, what's up," and signing down the line. We asked him if we'd missed batting practice, and he laughed and answered that they hadn't taken it because it hadn't helped them much in the past few games.
We also got a picture with Huston. He was also very nice about it, took a picture with Gillian, started to sign a ball, and looked worriedly at me. I smiled and told him, "It's okay, you can sign it," so he did, and then took a picture with me.
Once while I was up in the walkways, I saw another A's fan decked out in hat and shirt, and we gave each other a silent fist pump. It was a moment of fraternal unity between the green and gold faithful. :D Actually, there were quite a few A's fans there, more than I expected.
The game started and Zito wiggled out of a few early jams. (There was an extremely loud and annoying Rockies fan behind us whooping loudly for every routine flyball, but fortunately it started to rain and that got rid of her). Kielty made a great play to nail a guy at third. And finally, FINALLY, we had a chance to stand up and shout when Swish (God, I love him!) broke our scoreless streak with a no-doubter into straightaway center.
We hung on after that, barely, until the seventh, where a few lapses scored the Rockies' second run of the game. After that, things looked bad, because the closer Fuentes was coming on and he's lights-out. We held out hope, but it was waning.
And then... BOOM! Swisher with his second HR of the game, us out of our seats and screaming, giddy and disbelieving, and several stunned Rockies fans around us. ;) We sweated through the bottom of the ninth, which Huston whizzed through, and hoped in the tenth, but Rouse left us hanging.
Around this time, the two of us got into a friendly joshing match with a nearby Rockies fan, who kept trying to drown out our shouts and screams of "Let's go OAKLAND!" and "Come on KIKO!" Every time he shouted "Let's go ROCKIES!" though, we answered, and at one time it was going "ROCKIES!" "OAKLAND!" "ROCKIES!" "OAKLAND!" Some other people got into it too, yelling "Padres!" (which was good, because they beat the Rangers) and "Sky Sox!" (Rockies' AAA affiliate.)
The ribbing was sooo fun, and completely good-natured. Then, a guy wearing a Yankees (!) hat told us to keep cheering, said he was from Reno and always used to go to Oakland for baseball. He asked if we were from California, and we said no, we just loved the A's. He said, "Well, you certainly cheer your team on!"Then came the eleventh, which was flat-out awesome. Swisher did it for us again, Kielty got it done, Chavy was thrown out trying to extend the lead, and off we went to the bottom of the eleventh. Oh. God. I was dying, rocking back and forth on the edge of my chair, raking the seat in front of me with my fingernails, living and dying with every pitch, my heart out there on the field. It was the most intense game I have ever been to.
We were SCREAMING, and I mean SCREAMING, for Kiko out there, rooting for him and encouraging him, shouting ourselves hoarse, having a heart attack when Garrett Atkins lofted a high one to center that Kotsay tracked down. Then - single, worry, line-out, awesome, and then a force-out that Scooter handled to end the game and propel us out of our seats in euphoria. Someone said, "Good job, Oakland!" to us as we were leaving, with these cheesy Swisher-size grins on our faces.
All in all, the third game almost, almost made up for the suckiness of the entire series, and I was sad to see it end. But we had a great time, cheered our guys to a win, and got 10 autographs! Who can complain?!
Some random observations amassed from all three games:
At the first and second games, there was a family there that seemed to know EVERYONE. I mean, the players ran over to talk to them, shook hands, hugged them, posed for pictures, etc. We were very jealous, wondering if they were related or something. We should have cozied up to them. ;)
The defense was great. Whenever the Rockies had a chance to try for an extra base on a hit in the outfield, they never challenged the A's arms. Kielty made a great play to keep someone to a double when they wanted a triple, later threw Holliday out at third, and Kotsay of course was his usual self, running hard for balls in the gap and snagging them by the wall. Swish atoned for his bonehead defense in Game 1 with a great play in Game 2, which by then was already a lost cause. Chavy showed several times why he is a Gold Glover.
Scoot was awesome. I don't care what people say about him, he saved me from multiple heart attacks. I can't tell you how many times I thought a ball was surely ticketed for the hole, and then there would be Scoot to snag it. The play that ended Game 3 was one such, and there were many others. Gillian and I kept looking at each other and saying, "Without Scoot, the world would be dead."
I am developing a new appreciation for Klownhair Kielty, who really needs to grow back the `fro. He played solid defense, got hits when it seemed no one else could, and came through in the eleventh for the winning run.
Jamey Carroll is a. HUGE. Pest. He's slapping singles through the gaps, zipping around, stealing hits, getting in the way. Chavy stung one that Carroll intercepted and robbed him of a single, and that wasn't the only time. And in fact, when we went to the bottom of the tenth and had to face Helton and Holliday, my first thought was of relief: "We don't have to face the PEST!"
Kiko and Huston are gold. Solid gold. I have no more words. I trust those two (and Duke) with my life.
In person, Eric Chavez, Huston Street, Danny Haren, and Nick Swisher are extremely hot. But we knew that, right?
In the end, a bad series was redeemed by the truly awesome final game, we got autographs aplenty, and pictures will be up as soon as we can get them. We didn't have a camera for the first game, but snapped away at Games 2 & 3.
I have loved the A's since 2003, where I fell for them during the ALDS against the hated Red Sawx. Granted, this was not the best time to become an A's fan, but it was something like trial by fire, and I still remember Harden coming on in relief and giving up the extra-inning game-ending HR to Trot Nixon in Fenway. And, of course, that is the least of the painful memories for that series....But whatever. The point was, I was in, and that was when I discovered the Big Three. That was what really cemented it. I was in love. And that's the reason that, despite all the animosity toward Mulder on AN, I can't hate him. I just can't.
I began to follow the A's. But there was one problem... I live in Colorado, and as you all know, this is not exactly a bustling mecca for AL teams except in June, and even then, you have to wait for the schedule to align just right so that the A's come HERE instead of vice versa. Well, this year, I finally got my chance to see them, live and in person, for the first time. For my high school graduation gift, my dad bought me tickets to all 3 A's games at Coors. He, my sister Gillian, and myself were scheduled for the first two, and the entire family got a present in the third.
My graduation party itself was very A's-themed - green and yellow trim on the cake, even green and yellow flowers that I picked out specially. With my graduation money, I bought an A's jersey and then neurotically tracked the package online waiting for it to arrive, making one false-alarm trip to the post office in my eagerness. Fortunately for the state of my mental health, it arrived the next day.
But at last the long-sought game days came. And I promised myself that I'd write up a nice, long report. So here goes.
GAME 1
This was a really, really big deal. We left our house around 4:30, got to Coors Field around 5:30, and spent the hour and a half before the game huddling along the third-base side with our fellow green and gold-clad faithful. You might have seen us there - I was in jersey and A's hat, Gillian was in an A's elephant hat, and we were both wearing green and gold Mardi Gras beads. (These beads are cursed. We should have known better).
Anyway, we began the autograph hunt. The first one we scored was Mark Ellis, in the high socks and all, and we zipped over there and nudged in. He started to leave as we got there, saw us, came back, and signed for us. I said, "Come back, Mark, we need you," and he said, "Thanks." I did notice that his thumb was no longer in a splint or bandage, so maybe his return is on the horizon.
We were quite pleased about this, but the hunt was far from over. Next we scored Chavez! Chavy is quite possibly my favorite, so I shuffled into the queue rapidly forming about him, extended my hat, and managed to squeak out a "Thank you so much," when he returned it to me. Then we zipped over to the other side while I got Swisher and Gillian got Zito. (We later reversed, while she nabbed Swish and I got Z). Gillian, being a scientist, wanted to know about the effects of high altitude on ballplayers, and had a rather unintentionally hilarious conversation with Z:
GILLIAN: So, Barry, I got a question.
Z: What's up?
GILLIAN: I was wondering, you know, some people come up here and get altitude sickness from the elevation. Does that affect you at all?
Z: Really?... I dunno.. I haven't really noticed anything different... I heard hangovers are worse though...
Now who did he hear that from? My guess is Swish... :D
As for Swish himself, he was really friendly and personable, shaking hands and calling everyone "honey" and telling them it was great to meet them. After this series, I have emerged with an even deeper love for him...he's AWESOME!
Last but definitely not least, we got Huston as we were going back to our seats. Five autographs! We were in paradise! :D
The game itself was...okay... up until the eighth inning. We were screaming and cheering for Danny and the A's, and finally someone in front of us turned around and asked how we knew the players so well. We answered that we followed them obsessively. She said that she'd thought we were Danny's sisters, since we kept cheering for him and rooting him on so hard and calling him "Danny Boy." :D That, obviously, really flattered us, but no, 'twas not the case. And the third run was entirely Swish's fault. He completely misjudged the ball and it cost us.
The eighth inning...sucked. First Crosby grounded into his second DP of the game to leave 'em loaded, and afterwards, Witasick and Sauerbeck combined to make wrack and ruin of Danny's game. We were making bets on whether or not that inning would ever actually end, and afterwards they went meekly in the ninth. Still, I couldn't be too depressed, I'd just seen the A's play for the first time ever. No, that came afterwards. ;)
GAME 2
This, as we all know, was very ugly, so I won't waste much time on it. There weren't many people signing before the game, so we only got Kielty and Halsey. However, we did spot Danny, so Gillian shouted at him. After a second, he raised himself up languidly on one arm, looked around at us, and nodded, then he sat back down. :D He had just been running sprints, so I assumed he wanted to sit down, but when he left, he said he'd come back later. Either he forgot or he ran out of time, because we didn't see him again. Bad Danny. We wanted to get his autograph so much, but we didn't manage it.
This time, we remembered to bring a camera, so both Gillian and I got pictures with Swish, and he put his arm around both of us. :D That was awesome. Several people speculated that he was only signing to make up for yesterday's miscue, but as he was signing the first game as well, I think it is just because Swish loves people. Later in the game he made a great catch to rob J.D. Closser of his second homer of the game, though, so something must have worked.
Here, Gillian gave Swish a card in which she'd written a note to the A's, telling them that she loved the team and wanted to thank them for being there. The front said, "Shoot for the moon -- if you miss, you'll still land among the stars." She told Swish that that made her think of him. He was quite flattered, and shook hands with her - he still had the card when he went in, and it might have even made its way into the clubhouse.
The hitting was anemic (even the balls they pounded, like the one Chavez rocketed into right-center, got chased down) Loaiza sucked (big surprise) and things looked bleak for Game 3. I was really upset, practically crying on the way home, and I wanted to see a win so badly. It did not appear to be likely.
But Game 3... oh my GOD, Game 3....
GAME 3
I have to admit, I almost chickened out of wearing my full A's regalia to this game, because we had represented ourselves so miserably in the past two. But in the end, the jersey and hat went on (no cursed beads) we chivvied our reluctant family out the door at 4:40, ran ahead while they walked, and zipped into the stadium and back down to the huddle of A's fans. I just loved sitting down there, watching the field, so close, with other fanatics of a green and gold persuasion. :D
Today, the signing was better, and we got Captain Kirk, Chad Gaudin, Scott Sauerbeck, and Witasick. (We refrained from saying anything pointed to the latter two, however much we wanted to). :D Witasick was very nice, however, going, "Hey, what's up," and signing down the line. We asked him if we'd missed batting practice, and he laughed and answered that they hadn't taken it because it hadn't helped them much in the past few games.
We also got a picture with Huston. He was also very nice about it, took a picture with Gillian, started to sign a ball, and looked worriedly at me. I smiled and told him, "It's okay, you can sign it," so he did, and then took a picture with me.
Once while I was up in the walkways, I saw another A's fan decked out in hat and shirt, and we gave each other a silent fist pump. It was a moment of fraternal unity between the green and gold faithful. :D Actually, there were quite a few A's fans there, more than I expected.
The game started and Zito wiggled out of a few early jams. (There was an extremely loud and annoying Rockies fan behind us whooping loudly for every routine flyball, but fortunately it started to rain and that got rid of her). Kielty made a great play to nail a guy at third. And finally, FINALLY, we had a chance to stand up and shout when Swish (God, I love him!) broke our scoreless streak with a no-doubter into straightaway center.
We hung on after that, barely, until the seventh, where a few lapses scored the Rockies' second run of the game. After that, things looked bad, because the closer Fuentes was coming on and he's lights-out. We held out hope, but it was waning.
And then... BOOM! Swisher with his second HR of the game, us out of our seats and screaming, giddy and disbelieving, and several stunned Rockies fans around us. ;) We sweated through the bottom of the ninth, which Huston whizzed through, and hoped in the tenth, but Rouse left us hanging.
Around this time, the two of us got into a friendly joshing match with a nearby Rockies fan, who kept trying to drown out our shouts and screams of "Let's go OAKLAND!" and "Come on KIKO!" Every time he shouted "Let's go ROCKIES!" though, we answered, and at one time it was going "ROCKIES!" "OAKLAND!" "ROCKIES!" "OAKLAND!" Some other people got into it too, yelling "Padres!" (which was good, because they beat the Rangers) and "Sky Sox!" (Rockies' AAA affiliate.)
The ribbing was sooo fun, and completely good-natured. Then, a guy wearing a Yankees (!) hat told us to keep cheering, said he was from Reno and always used to go to Oakland for baseball. He asked if we were from California, and we said no, we just loved the A's. He said, "Well, you certainly cheer your team on!"Then came the eleventh, which was flat-out awesome. Swisher did it for us again, Kielty got it done, Chavy was thrown out trying to extend the lead, and off we went to the bottom of the eleventh. Oh. God. I was dying, rocking back and forth on the edge of my chair, raking the seat in front of me with my fingernails, living and dying with every pitch, my heart out there on the field. It was the most intense game I have ever been to.
We were SCREAMING, and I mean SCREAMING, for Kiko out there, rooting for him and encouraging him, shouting ourselves hoarse, having a heart attack when Garrett Atkins lofted a high one to center that Kotsay tracked down. Then - single, worry, line-out, awesome, and then a force-out that Scooter handled to end the game and propel us out of our seats in euphoria. Someone said, "Good job, Oakland!" to us as we were leaving, with these cheesy Swisher-size grins on our faces.
All in all, the third game almost, almost made up for the suckiness of the entire series, and I was sad to see it end. But we had a great time, cheered our guys to a win, and got 10 autographs! Who can complain?!
Some random observations amassed from all three games:
At the first and second games, there was a family there that seemed to know EVERYONE. I mean, the players ran over to talk to them, shook hands, hugged them, posed for pictures, etc. We were very jealous, wondering if they were related or something. We should have cozied up to them. ;)
The defense was great. Whenever the Rockies had a chance to try for an extra base on a hit in the outfield, they never challenged the A's arms. Kielty made a great play to keep someone to a double when they wanted a triple, later threw Holliday out at third, and Kotsay of course was his usual self, running hard for balls in the gap and snagging them by the wall. Swish atoned for his bonehead defense in Game 1 with a great play in Game 2, which by then was already a lost cause. Chavy showed several times why he is a Gold Glover.
Scoot was awesome. I don't care what people say about him, he saved me from multiple heart attacks. I can't tell you how many times I thought a ball was surely ticketed for the hole, and then there would be Scoot to snag it. The play that ended Game 3 was one such, and there were many others. Gillian and I kept looking at each other and saying, "Without Scoot, the world would be dead."
I am developing a new appreciation for Klownhair Kielty, who really needs to grow back the `fro. He played solid defense, got hits when it seemed no one else could, and came through in the eleventh for the winning run.
Jamey Carroll is a. HUGE. Pest. He's slapping singles through the gaps, zipping around, stealing hits, getting in the way. Chavy stung one that Carroll intercepted and robbed him of a single, and that wasn't the only time. And in fact, when we went to the bottom of the tenth and had to face Helton and Holliday, my first thought was of relief: "We don't have to face the PEST!"
Kiko and Huston are gold. Solid gold. I have no more words. I trust those two (and Duke) with my life.
In person, Eric Chavez, Huston Street, Danny Haren, and Nick Swisher are extremely hot. But we knew that, right?
In the end, a bad series was redeemed by the truly awesome final game, we got autographs aplenty, and pictures will be up as soon as we can get them. We didn't have a camera for the first game, but snapped away at Games 2 & 3.
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