A tip of the cap to the Mets, who took advantage of the Cardinals' one mistake last night and won, 2-0. The Mets got the seeing-eye hits (Lo Duca) and not the Cardinals (Belly twice was robbed, as was Pujols), and Jeff Weaver made one very poor pitch to Carlos Beltran. Ballgame. I like the fact that we held this vaunted offense to two runs (and really just two hard-hit balls), and that our pen did the job again. I'm feeling confident heading into tonight's game as we prepare to face the Mets less effective starting pitchers over the next few days.
Bad news for Illini basketball fans. Stud recruit Eric Gordon, a 6-foot-4 shooting guard from Indianapolis, is going to renege on his verbal committment to Bruce Weber and sign with Indiana. I won't bore you with the details -- which involve just about everything that muddies up the water of college recruiting -- but this is a HUGE blow for the Illini. Gordon was a Top 5 talent in the class of 2007. He was probably a one-and-done player anyway, but a team hoping to vault itself into the echelon of the Dukes/Arizonas/Kansases of the world can not continue to fail in recruiting top talent. Weber could coach a fivesome of circus monkeys into the NCAA Tourney, but without elite talent, Elite Eight runs are hard to come by.
Some will say, "Look at what he did last season after losing Williams and Head and Powell and Ingram..." But he still had two NBA players on that roster. Now, he arguably has none -- with no great prospects on the horizon. Still, I support the coach. He's honest, he knows his Xs and Os, and there are worse programs/coaches to model yourself after than Purdue and Coach Keady, who got the most out of the least year after year. The sad thing is, I strongly feel that if you give Weber just one stud, he'll give you an unforgettable team. It was true of Keady with Glenn Robinson, and the same would have been true of Weber with Gordon. Oh well, have fun at Indiana, EJ. Best of luck with Kelvin Sanctions as your coach.
I'm moving on. Tonight is Midnight Madness at the Assembly Hall, Jeremy Piven is the emcee, and I'm going to break the orange tee out of mothballs. Then there's Cardinal baseball to watch afterward (thanks DVR!). So today is looking up.
Plus, I just learned that Chavez's entire catalogue is being re-released by Matador on one CD. I own two-thirds of it already, but I may be getting the new release, Better Days Will Haunt You, simply to have my own copy of this video, which is included with the CD. I only saw this once on MTV back in the day, but I told everyone who would listen how it was the greatest music video ever. Sure enough, YouTube has a copy of it as well. It's still as great as I remember it being. That James Lo drum lick is the bomb. Enjoy.
Chavez - "Break Up Your Band"
10.10.2006
20 things fans of the Pond Scum need to know about my Cardinals
(For the benefit of Listmaker and his readership.)
1. You didn’t intimidate us in ’86, we just felt sorry for ya. That’s all.
2. You got lucky against us in ’00; I wouldn’t hold your breath this time.
3. Don’t stray too far off of first, lest ye be picked off by the rifle that is Yadi Molina’s right arm. And be careful on your way down to second, Jose.
4. Beware “Belly”! He may be fat, but Ronnie Belliard is a gamer who likes to stick his tongue out of his mouth more often than His Airness, has been good in the clutch as of late, plays a deep second base, and makes the off-balance throw to first better than anyone I’ve ever seen.
5. Scott Rolen stinks right now, whether he (or his bum, surgically-repaired shoulder) wants to admit it. Pitch to him all day and all night, and watch him feebly pop up to short center field.
6. Chris Duncan (or “Chaw” as he’s called in my house) wears a skillet for a glove, but carries a mighty big stick, much like one former U.S. President.
7. Hollywood Jim Edmonds is suffering from “post-concussion syndrome,” whatever that means. He also has a tinge in his shoulder and an ouchy on his foot. Man, is he playing in pain. You will now cringe as the broadcasters remind you of this four times each game.
8. You do not want to face Chris Carpenter. Seriously, you better abduct him while he’s in St. Louis, otherwise you aren’t winning Game 3.
9. Don’t look Wainwright’s curve ball in the eyes — it’ll break your heart.
10. The only current Redbird to ever hit a homer off of Billy Wagner is … wait for it … a little longer … David Eckstein. (That just means Pujols is due.)
11. Speaking of the Big Guy, Albert the Great, he’s got two career hits against Maine in three at bats. Both of those hits left the yard. (Did someone say SEVEN RBI?)
12. That tuft of red hair on Speez’s chin is a year-long gimmick that won’t die. Please make it die. Pretty please?
13. I don’t like Tony La Russa. I think he’s overrated, so I guess we share something in common. But boy did he pull all the right strings in the NLDS. Too bad he has a habit of choking in the NLCS and beyond.
14. About the veggie lovin’, animal huggin’, former middle-infield scrub: He’s having a hard time deciding whether to start veteran Jason Marquis and his 6.02 ERA in Game 4, or rookie Anthony “Hey! Did you forget that I one-hit the White Sox this year?” Reyes. Them’s smarts. That’s what a law degree will getcha.
15. Soup — or Sooooooooooup if you’re really feeling it — is our version of Greg Maddux, minus the Hall of Fame credentials. Laugh all you want, but Delgado, Green, and Beltran are hitting a combined .172 against him in his career.
16. I don’t know why So Taguchi is on a Major League roster either, unless it’s to up our cute factor. (But isn’t that why we acquired Eckstein?)
17. Juan Encarnacion collected ONE RBI in his first 19 games this year. Everyone hated him. Then he had a game-winning triple in Game 4 of the NLDS. Now everyone loves him.
18. Jeff Weaver is one ugly motherfucker.
19. We will not let Braden Looper beat us. He’s been relegated to mop-up duty, unless the rest of our inexperienced pen implodes. (Very doubtful: we’ve got Tyler Johnson, Josh Kinney, Brad Thompson, Randy Flores, and Josh Hancock on our side — all names that strike fear into the minds of opposing batters.)
20. Those who pitch around Pujols are pussies. Smart baseball, my ass!
1. You didn’t intimidate us in ’86, we just felt sorry for ya. That’s all.
2. You got lucky against us in ’00; I wouldn’t hold your breath this time.
3. Don’t stray too far off of first, lest ye be picked off by the rifle that is Yadi Molina’s right arm. And be careful on your way down to second, Jose.
4. Beware “Belly”! He may be fat, but Ronnie Belliard is a gamer who likes to stick his tongue out of his mouth more often than His Airness, has been good in the clutch as of late, plays a deep second base, and makes the off-balance throw to first better than anyone I’ve ever seen.
5. Scott Rolen stinks right now, whether he (or his bum, surgically-repaired shoulder) wants to admit it. Pitch to him all day and all night, and watch him feebly pop up to short center field.
6. Chris Duncan (or “Chaw” as he’s called in my house) wears a skillet for a glove, but carries a mighty big stick, much like one former U.S. President.
7. Hollywood Jim Edmonds is suffering from “post-concussion syndrome,” whatever that means. He also has a tinge in his shoulder and an ouchy on his foot. Man, is he playing in pain. You will now cringe as the broadcasters remind you of this four times each game.
8. You do not want to face Chris Carpenter. Seriously, you better abduct him while he’s in St. Louis, otherwise you aren’t winning Game 3.
9. Don’t look Wainwright’s curve ball in the eyes — it’ll break your heart.
10. The only current Redbird to ever hit a homer off of Billy Wagner is … wait for it … a little longer … David Eckstein. (That just means Pujols is due.)
11. Speaking of the Big Guy, Albert the Great, he’s got two career hits against Maine in three at bats. Both of those hits left the yard. (Did someone say SEVEN RBI?)
12. That tuft of red hair on Speez’s chin is a year-long gimmick that won’t die. Please make it die. Pretty please?
13. I don’t like Tony La Russa. I think he’s overrated, so I guess we share something in common. But boy did he pull all the right strings in the NLDS. Too bad he has a habit of choking in the NLCS and beyond.
14. About the veggie lovin’, animal huggin’, former middle-infield scrub: He’s having a hard time deciding whether to start veteran Jason Marquis and his 6.02 ERA in Game 4, or rookie Anthony “Hey! Did you forget that I one-hit the White Sox this year?” Reyes. Them’s smarts. That’s what a law degree will getcha.
15. Soup — or Sooooooooooup if you’re really feeling it — is our version of Greg Maddux, minus the Hall of Fame credentials. Laugh all you want, but Delgado, Green, and Beltran are hitting a combined .172 against him in his career.
16. I don’t know why So Taguchi is on a Major League roster either, unless it’s to up our cute factor. (But isn’t that why we acquired Eckstein?)
17. Juan Encarnacion collected ONE RBI in his first 19 games this year. Everyone hated him. Then he had a game-winning triple in Game 4 of the NLDS. Now everyone loves him.
18. Jeff Weaver is one ugly motherfucker.
19. We will not let Braden Looper beat us. He’s been relegated to mop-up duty, unless the rest of our inexperienced pen implodes. (Very doubtful: we’ve got Tyler Johnson, Josh Kinney, Brad Thompson, Randy Flores, and Josh Hancock on our side — all names that strike fear into the minds of opposing batters.)
20. Those who pitch around Pujols are pussies. Smart baseball, my ass!
10.09.2006
Changing my tune
So I'm a little more interested in the NL playoffs now. Cards vs. Mets has the makings of a good series. More on that in a second.
First, let's review my playoff predictions. I missed out on the A's and Mets, and really screwed up in having the Dodgers going all the way to the Series. They were my Big Mo team, the team no one was talking about that I felt had a good shot to ride a wave of momentum into the Series. Their pitchers did keep the ball in the yard -- allowing just two homers in three games -- but unfortunately the ball was sprayed all over the yard, especially with runners in scoring position. I was also wrong in the AL, calling the A's-Twins match up the "series to watch". The A's really stepped it up a notch, especially their starting pitching.
I was absolutely correct, however, on the Cards and Tigers. Detroit's pitching was too much for the Yanks, just as I predicted. Did you see Zumaya hitting 103 on the gun? If The Gambler has any mojo left, look out A's. I like the match up of two deep, talented staffs in the ALCS.
I was also dead-on with the Cards. The Cards scored runs early in their victories, making the Padres pen a non-factor. Surprisingly, however, they also did a great job of keeping the Padres from scoring. Part of that can be blamed on some fluke-ish poor hitting in the clutch from San Diego. But honestly, that lineup is not going to put the fear of god in any opposing staff this side of AAA. Sure, they were a good hitting club in the regular season, but they lack big boppers and they are a far cry from the Cards next opponent: the Mets.
I'm taking infield grounders this week before the start of the NLCS by reading Jeff Pearlman's tribute to the rowdy, skirt-chasing, assholes of yore, the '86 Mets. Sadly, there's been no definitive tome written on the White Rat's Runnin' Redbirds ... yet.
I wonder what Listmaker is doing to ready himself for this sure-to-be-classic NLCS slugfest? Growing a playoff beard? Wearing the same, smelly Mets cap to bed every night? Asking the baseball gods to locate Sidd Finch and rush him to the Mets rotation? Or maybe checking to see if Seaver and The Doc still have live arms? Inquiring minds want to know. Would Listmaker be up for posting an NLCS preview of the Mets on my blog, in exchange for me giving him a post to his blog on the Cards?
I guess I just needed to warm up to the idea that my Redbirds were good enough to win a playoff series, and now that I am, I'm ready to watch some NL baseball. On the wall of my office at work, staring at me all day long, is a shrine to Cardinals past. (Sure, that may sound cheesy, but I do work at a sports publisher, so it also makes some sense.) Nine framed black and white photos adorn the wall: The Dean brothers, Gibby, Rajah, Flood, Country Slaughter, the Gashouse Gang, Brock, and The Man. But the ninth in particular has caught my eye right now: a photo of Boyer, Gibson, and McCarver hugging on the mound after the '64 Cardinals knocked off another New York team, the Yankees, to win the Fall Classic. Fans are spilling over the 12-foot-high outfield fence at Sportsman's Park, preparing to storm the field. Maybe, just maybe, this'll be the year...
First, let's review my playoff predictions. I missed out on the A's and Mets, and really screwed up in having the Dodgers going all the way to the Series. They were my Big Mo team, the team no one was talking about that I felt had a good shot to ride a wave of momentum into the Series. Their pitchers did keep the ball in the yard -- allowing just two homers in three games -- but unfortunately the ball was sprayed all over the yard, especially with runners in scoring position. I was also wrong in the AL, calling the A's-Twins match up the "series to watch". The A's really stepped it up a notch, especially their starting pitching.
I was absolutely correct, however, on the Cards and Tigers. Detroit's pitching was too much for the Yanks, just as I predicted. Did you see Zumaya hitting 103 on the gun? If The Gambler has any mojo left, look out A's. I like the match up of two deep, talented staffs in the ALCS.
I was also dead-on with the Cards. The Cards scored runs early in their victories, making the Padres pen a non-factor. Surprisingly, however, they also did a great job of keeping the Padres from scoring. Part of that can be blamed on some fluke-ish poor hitting in the clutch from San Diego. But honestly, that lineup is not going to put the fear of god in any opposing staff this side of AAA. Sure, they were a good hitting club in the regular season, but they lack big boppers and they are a far cry from the Cards next opponent: the Mets.
I'm taking infield grounders this week before the start of the NLCS by reading Jeff Pearlman's tribute to the rowdy, skirt-chasing, assholes of yore, the '86 Mets. Sadly, there's been no definitive tome written on the White Rat's Runnin' Redbirds ... yet.
I wonder what Listmaker is doing to ready himself for this sure-to-be-classic NLCS slugfest? Growing a playoff beard? Wearing the same, smelly Mets cap to bed every night? Asking the baseball gods to locate Sidd Finch and rush him to the Mets rotation? Or maybe checking to see if Seaver and The Doc still have live arms? Inquiring minds want to know. Would Listmaker be up for posting an NLCS preview of the Mets on my blog, in exchange for me giving him a post to his blog on the Cards?
I guess I just needed to warm up to the idea that my Redbirds were good enough to win a playoff series, and now that I am, I'm ready to watch some NL baseball. On the wall of my office at work, staring at me all day long, is a shrine to Cardinals past. (Sure, that may sound cheesy, but I do work at a sports publisher, so it also makes some sense.) Nine framed black and white photos adorn the wall: The Dean brothers, Gibby, Rajah, Flood, Country Slaughter, the Gashouse Gang, Brock, and The Man. But the ninth in particular has caught my eye right now: a photo of Boyer, Gibson, and McCarver hugging on the mound after the '64 Cardinals knocked off another New York team, the Yankees, to win the Fall Classic. Fans are spilling over the 12-foot-high outfield fence at Sportsman's Park, preparing to storm the field. Maybe, just maybe, this'll be the year...
10.06.2006
My new favorite band
Meet Black Lips, who hail from Atlanta. They puke on stage. They play their guitars with their dicks. They drop-kick each other. They love feedback like no other. They play with the shittiest equipment money can buy. They're fucking stoopid. They've been banned from a slew of clubs and stiffed by an army of promoters. They don't shower and they refer to themselves as "Flower Punks". And they covered one of my favorite obscuro garage rock tunes of all time -- Jacques Dutronc's "Hippie Hippie Hoorah" -- on their 2005 full length Let It Bloom.
Greg Shaw signed 'em when they were still in their teens. Then they went to In the Red and now they're on the hip Vice Records and are opening shows for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Who knows how long they'll be this good. See for yourself...
Black Lips - "Fad"
Greg Shaw signed 'em when they were still in their teens. Then they went to In the Red and now they're on the hip Vice Records and are opening shows for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Who knows how long they'll be this good. See for yourself...
Black Lips - "Fad"
10.02.2006
Who's excited for the NL playoffs? Not I.
We've been hearing all about it for the past few years: the AL reigns supreme over the NL. The point has been driven home in All-Star games and World Series alike. ESPN is the leading booster, making certain we know it's so by pumping as much AL-related content down our throats as possible. (We must have deep throats, too, considering all the fucking Red Sox-Yankees-White Sox games we had to choose not to watch this year.)
But the truth is, well, the truth: the AL is superior to the NL. This year's playoffs will surely cement that point as Fact No. 1 in baseball's collective conscious. Think about it: In the AL you've got four supremely talented teams paced by exciting players (yes, even the Tigers have Pudge, Jonesy's handlebar stache, and a 100-mph-throwing phenom named Joel Zumaya, who you will know soon enough); in the NL you've got, uh, Pujols? Do the Padres get your blood pumping? No, not even in their camo jerseys. Not even when Trevor "The All Time Saves Leader" Hoffman toes the rubber to unleash a nasty 74-mph change up. Not even with Mike "Tight Pants" Piazza batting clean up and Brian "I Will Walk 500 Times" Giles in the two-hole.
What about the Dodgers? Sure, they've got Nomah (when he's healthy enough to play) and JD Drew (when he's healthy enough to play) and Kenny Lofton (when he's healthy enough to play) and Brad "my career highlight came when I struck out the side in the '06 All-Star game" Penny. But they've also got at least one player who is nearly impossible to root for -- Jeff Fucking Kent -- and a legion of no-name, good-play rookies.
How about the Mets minus Pedro? They've still got Glavine and El Duque and Wagner and a scary lineup ... but you gotta admit that without Pedro, you find yourself doing a huge double-take before handing over the NL pennant to the Mets. Pedro had been unhealthy and ineffective for the entire second half of the season, so the Mets won't really miss him. (They were 54-35 at the break this year, and just a tick worse at 43-30 after, even as Pedro posted just two wins and an ERA north of seven.) But still, this is Pedro we're talking about. You can't really believe New York's chances will improve by inserting a rookie into Pedro's spot in the rotation, or needing to count on a strong start from the likes of Steve Trachsel.
And then there's my Cardinals, who finished the year doing their best impersonation of a ticking time bomb. I know ya'll are sick and tired of hearing me babble on about Sir Albert Pujols, but if you really don't think that he's deserving of the MVP Award, then you don't know jack about baseball. He ended our most recent 7-game losing streak just in time with yet another walk-off homer to ensure that we had a fighting chance of fending off the reigning NL pennant-winners, those pesky (steroid using) Astros. The Cardinals suck, folks. I mean, they suck bad. Only in this weak-ass NL playoff picture do we actually stand a chance at winning a division series, even if no pundit on Mother Earth will put their rep on the line and pick us to do so.
So, am I excited by the prospects of watching my Cards fall behind early and often to the Padres? Am I anxious to see Greg Maddux face off against Tom Glavine in a battle of 40-something ex-teammates? Uh, FUCK NO. The only thing worth watching in this year's playoffs is the play of Jose Reyes, who is the best player in the NL not to have his name thrown into the MVP voting ring. (When was the last time your team's leadoff hitter smacked 66 extra-base hits, drove in 81 runs, and swiped 64 bases?)
For once, I'll be much more interested in watching the AL, where I will take pleasure in watching the Tigers embarrass Joe Torre's crew (one can hope) while the playoffs best series -- Twins v. A's -- develops one for the ages. And by the way, a big FUCK YOU to Major League Baseball for having Santana v. Zito be the fucking NOON game on Tuesday. Why, you ask, would baseball be so dumb? Oh, so the Yankees can have primetime to themselves. ESPN, Fox, and MLB needs to grow some balls and kindly do what's right for baseball fans around the globe whose teams aren't in the hunt -- whom their new playoff advertisements are oddly enough targeting -- instead of worrying only about the ratings. Give us a chance to actually watch some exciting baseball this October. Better yet, allow Oakland fans to actually watch some evening playoff baseball instead of sticking them with the early morning game every time out.
Okay, moving on ... I've got one last tidbit to tidy up from earlier in the season. Way back at the end of April, when Pujols was ripping the cover off the ball much as Ryan Howard did in Half Two, I made the following prediction as to how Albert's season would finish up. Of course, I didn't foresee the oblique strain that would sideline him for 15 games, permanently altering his season when he was in peak form. But, for comparison's sake, let's see how he ended up.
My April prediction is listed first, followed by his actual production (asterisk denotes career high).
Plate appearances: 675/634
Walks: 140/92
At-bats: 515/535
Hits: 182/177
2B: 36/33
HR: 52/49*
RBI: 123/137*
Runs: 148/119
On-base %: .487/.431
Slugging %: .753/.671*
Avg: .353/.331
Conclusion: While he missed my high marks overall, Pujols still posted some career highs in key categories. But the Cards' lack of punch hurt Sir Albert, as his run total was down this year despite homering at a career-best rate. For the first time in four seasons, he won't lead the league in runs scored.
We also know that opposing managers were foolish. Given his 24 game-winning hits (tying Willie Mays for best ever) and the fact that he killed with runners in scoring position, Albert should have been walked more frequently. He was intentionally walked a career-best 28 times, but that was less than Ryan Howard's 37 IBBs. Given Howard's lack of productivity with runner's on, that difference is a bit perplexing. Pundits love to point to that stat in affirming why Howard should get the nod over Pujols in MVP voting, but that's just silly. Why put such stock in a number that is essentially based on reputation and not in the player's immediate control? There's no shame in Howard being the NL MVP, but it won't make it right should it happen.
To wrap up this post, here are my postseason predictions...
NL MVP: Howard, PHI (I'd give it to Pujols, of course)
NL Cy: Carpenter, STL
NL Manager: Girardi, FLA
AL MVP: Jeter, NYY (although I'd give it to Mauer or Morneau)
AL Cy: Santana, MIN (for shits and giggles, compare him to Wang, who also finished with a 19-6 record)
AL Manager: Leyland, DET
Cardinals over Padres in 5
The Padres have learned the hard way to walk Pujols late in games, but for once the Cards offense will jump on top first, allowing Pujols to do enough damage early in games and negating the Padres solid pen.
Dodgers over Mets in 5
Gutsy call, and not a popular one. Penny and Maddux didn't fare too well versus the Mets in the regular season, and Penny specifically has stunk it up since the break. But I like LA's chances with a staff that keeps the ball in the yard. And something just tells me that this isn't the Mets year. (See: Pedro)
Dodgers over Cardinals in 5
Unless Pujols suddenly becomes Babe Ruth and toes the rubber, I don't see the Cards advancing any farther in the playoffs. They were 7-0 against the Dodgers this year, but they're going to be 1-4 against them when it counts most.
Twins over A's in 5
I think this is the series to watch. Too bad I won't get to see much of it thanks to TV scheduling. On paper, this is the weakest of Beane's Moneyball teams. They struggled all season long offensively, but the Twins rotation is paper thin beyond Santana, so I see lots of offense in this series, despite two solid pens. Slight edge to the Twins.
Tigers over Yankees in 4
Great oh-fence for the Yanks, but can they keep their opponent from scoring? The Tigers offense pales in comparison. Still, I like the Tigers deep, consistent rotation and lights-out pen. Choke time for Torre and Co.
Tigers over Twins in 7
Great matchup, but will anyone pay attention to two northern midwest teams? Unless Santana figures out a way to start four games, I don't see the Twins taking out the Tigers. Mauer keeps 'em in it until Game 7, when The Gambler blanks 'em through seven and Zumaya, his arm ready to fall off, slams the door shut with 102 mph fastballs at the knees.
Dodgers over Tigers in 6
So what if no one else saw this coming? The difference maker here is that the Dodgers are the fresher team, having taken care of the Cards in five. Takashi Saito pitches five scoreless innings of relief to notch three saves, and everyone in the country learns how to correctly pronounce his name. Meanwhile, Jeff Fucking Kent hits a game-winning home run, and Nomah, wincing in pain after every swing, delivers his own walk-off home run in the clincher against Todd Jones, who curses his handlebar stache after the game as having betrayed him for the last time!
Am I nuts? Rob Neyer agrees with me regarding the Dodgers, so maybe so. Just a hunch. After all of my earlier talk of the AL's dominance, I think this may be the year the NL gets even. Ever the optimist, I suppose.
What are your picks?
9.17.2006
Dead Moon rising on Sub Pop
One of my favorite discoveries of the past few years is getting a proper retrospective on Sub Pop: Oregon garage rockers Dead Moon. They're one of the truly great unknown rock bands in the land of liberty, and now that their songs are readily available via a mega-indie, you have no excuse for not falling in fucking love. I say they sound like Love if Arthur Lee and the boys had huffed a mighty dose of Radio Birdman. Or, more to the point, they sound like a trio of crusty punks, each with a broken, bleeding heart tucked under a tight, sweaty T. It doesn't get any more sincere than Fred Cole and company. If anyone knows squat about maintaining his cool, it's Cole, whose pushing 60.
My only complaint about this 49-song comp is the omission of my fave Dead Moon song, "Crazy to the Bone". It would have been a fitting 50th song. Here's a synopsis from their Sub Pop bio to get you up to speed, followed by some tunes:
Clackamas, Oregon’s Dead Moon is truly one of the most independent and revered Northwest underground bands of all time. With Fred Cole on guitar and vocals, his wife Toody on bass and vocals, and the indefatigable Andrew Loomis on drums, Dead Moon have been churning out their own indescribable brand of rock and roll for nearly 20 years now. Their dedication and love for each other and what they do make it unlikely they will be stopping anytime soon.
Fred began his recording career in 1964 with The Lords, releasing the single "Ain't Got No Self-Respect." Fred’s next band The Weeds released a 7” before being renamed The Lollipop Shoppe to avoid confusion with The Seeds (with whom they shared a manager). Their 1968 burner “You Must Be a Witch” was released on 7” by MCA subsidiary Uni Records and eventually landed on the first Nuggets anthology box set. The Lollipop Shoppe / Weeds configuration went on to play with the likes of The Doors, The Seeds and Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin before disbanding in 1969.
Fred and Toody met in Portland in 1966 after The Weeds ran out of gas on their way to Canada where members of the band were planning to wait out the Vietnam War. They were married in 1967, and when The Lollipop Shoppe disbanded in 1971, the couple spent some time homesteading in the Yukon, briefly lived in LA and finally landed back in Oregon, just outside of Portland, in Clackamas.
In 1987, after years spent playing in and releasing records by a dizzying succession of bands, Fred and Toody recruited Andrew Loomis to play drums for a new rock and roll band that would be stripped to its rawest essentials: electric guitar and bass with no effects, simple, powerful drumming, and tough, impassioned vocals (from both Fred and Toody). A red moon Fred and Toody saw on the way home from one of their many trips to Reno spawned the name for the new band, and Fred’s desperate, intense and haunting lyrics fit perfectly...
Dead Moon - "Dagger Moon"
Dead Moon - "A Miss of You"
Dead Moon - "Walking on My Grave"
9.13.2006
You can beat the Cardinals...
...But you can't beat Pujols. It's a saying that started in Cardinals nation last year, gaining significant momentum in the playoffs when Albert crushed that game-winning home run against Brad Lidge. It's been true ever since then, including last night when Pujols collected his 23rd game-winning hit of the season -- 18 of which have been homers. Last night's was merely a two-run single in the bottom of the ninth against Lidge. With that hit, Pujols probably halted the Astros run at the postseason.Talk of the MVP race is heating as usual in September. Ryan Howard has grabbed a bulk of the headlines with his barrage of home runs, and deservedly so. The kid is having a monster second half. If you look at his core stats -- 56 HR, 138 RBI, .316 AVG -- he's hard to argue against. I don't buy into the argument that if the Phillies miss the playoffs he shouldn't receive as much consideration in voting, because he's carried his team this far -- to the brink of a playoff spot. There are too many other factors that will ultimately decide if his team makes it or not. But we can be certain that they wouldn't be in the hunt this late in the season without his lumber.
However, I can't give him the nod over Pujols -- despite the traditional stats in his favor. Pujols only leads Howard by the slimmest of margins in OPS, and trails him by a considerable amount in homers and ribbies. But I can't get beyond those Major League-leading 23 game-winning hits. Where would the Cards be without even half of those? The answer is in second place -- or worse. I shy away from the term "clutch" because so much of baseball is pure luck. But in Pujols' case, I make an exception. The man is capable of willing his team to victory, and he's proven that fact time and time again this season. His typical Pujols numbers (he's on pace for a career-best 51 HR, 137 RBI, and 121 runs) coupled with his stellar play in the field (a Gold Glove is not out of the question) give him the qualities one looks for in an MVP candidate. And his name recognition alone will probably give him the slight nod. But this year, maybe more so than any other, he truly deserves it, with key injuries to Edmonds and Eckstein (his protection and lead-off hitter) and our pitching staff's ineffectiveness causing this team to stumble throughout the season. This is weakest Cardinals team of the Pujols era.
Of course, just because he deserves it doesn't mean that he'll get it. He'll have to battle Howard, set to break 61 homers, and fabulous seasons from Carlos Beltran, Lance Berkman, Alfonso Soriano, and Miguel Cabrera, the latter of which right now is what Pujols was to Bonds four years ago. But for my money, there's no one else in baseball that I want at the plate with the game on the line and runners on base. And that, to me, is one true way to measure an MVP.
I'll leave you with these splits, which illustrate that sometimes the numbers don't give you the whole truth. RBIs -- of which Howard leads Pujols by 18 at this point -- are a function in part of the effectiveness of the lineup around you. Anyone who has watched more than a handful of Cardinals games this season can tell you how poor our 7-8-9-1-2 hitters have been this year at reaching base. Pujols has simply had fewer opportunities to knock in runners than Howard: Albert's had 150 plate appearances with runners in scoring position; Ryan's had 197. What Albert has done with those opportunities, however, is why he gets my vote for MVP.
With runners in scoring position, Albert is hitting .383 and slugging .766 to Howard's .248 and .517. With runners in scoring position and two outs, Albert is hitting .405 and slugging .703 to Howard's .230 and .473. Howard narrows the gap in close and late situations -- Albert's at .306/.742 to Howard's .293/.646 -- but the fact remains that Albert does his damage when it counts the most. Hard to argue with that.
UPDATE: Apparently, I should write for ESPN. I noticed this article was posted today, but I had no advance knowledge of it before penning the above. Funny, we're making a lot of the same points.
9.09.2006
The absolute worst baseball uniforms of all time: Part 2, 1950-2006
It's been a while since Part 1 of my countdown of the worst fashion baseball has had to offer. Without further ado, here's the second half of the list. I'm skipping odd one-off unis that have appeared, like those camo jerseys the Padres occasionally trot out in honor of the troops.
Baseball unis from 1950 on are, for the most part, a bore. I had a hard time finding anything from 1950-1970 worth including on this list. Uniforms were plain Jane, to a fault. The same can be said for 1990 onward. The years inbetween, especially the flamboyant '70s, make up the bulk of this list thanks to uniforms featuring lots of color. Enough color to blind you. Colors that grown men should never wear from head to toe. And that makes their selection almost too easy. Or, maybe too hard. It's difficult to fault those who tried to stray from the norm. But instead of interjecting just a splash of color, these uniforms go overboard. Here's the losers...
No. 10
1969 Seattle Pilots (64-98; last in AL West)
Ah, the one-year losers that gave us Jim Bouton's Ball Four and these sickly road unis. The Pilots got the trend started: yellow as an accent color on powder blue unis. Upon relocating to Milwaukee in 1970 and renaming themselves the Brewers, the team continued this terrible tradition well into the '80s. But back to the Pilots, led by a group of grizzled vets, including two-time batting champ Tommy Davis and the aforementioned Bouton, the Pilots stunk it up and would be all but forgotten if not for Ball Four, easily one of the top five baseball books ever published.
No. 9
1983 New York Mets (68-94; last in NL East)
From 1962-82, the Mets home uniform looked pretty much the same. Pinstripes, blue caps and stirrups, and "Mets" scrawled across the chest in cursive. In 1983, they added a small embellishment -- an orange and blue stripe -- down the shoulders and up the sides. In a word: overkill. Why add stripes to a pinstriped uni? The Mets had been sucking for years, and this change to their uni's trim did little to turn that around in their first season in revamped unis. However, in the following season Davey Johnson came on board as skipper, Darryl Strawberry blossomed, and a young kid named Doc Gooden toed the rubber in his rookie season. Needless to say, they did alright despite their uniforms.
No. 8
1977 Atlanta Braves (61-101; last in NL West)
In case you haven't noticed the trend yet, teams playing in ugly uniforms haven't fared so well. The '77 Braves didn't buck that trend, finishing a distant last to the Garvey-Cey-Lopes-Russell Dodgers. Red pinstripes should never be an option. Ever. This was the first of four years the Braves tried this look for their home jerseys, and they won an average of just 69 games per year over that time span. The '77 Braves featured one of my favorite-named players of all time, catcher Biff Picoroba, as well as slugger Jeff Burroughs and a second-year outfielder soon to break through, Dale Murphy. A couple other points of interest about this team: 1) Phil Niekro tossed 330 innings that year, the first of three-straight years of 330-plus innings; and 2) media mogul and hands-on team owner Ted Turner took a turn as manager one day in the '77 season. It was his first, and only, turn as skipper, and the Braves did him the honor of losing. About managing, Turner said, "Managing isn't that difficult, you just have to score more runs than the other guy". On this day, he didn't, as they lost 6-2 to the Big Red Machine.
No. 7
1971 Baltimore Orioles (101-57; won AL pennant)
The '71 O's bucked the losing trend of the other teams on this list with their third-straight 100-win season. Earl Weaver's boys were led by sluggers Frank Robinson and Boog Powell and a vacuum cleaner at third, Brooks Robinson. And in this particular year, four 20-game winners: Cuellar, Dobson, Palmer, and McNally. Helluva team; still surprises me that they only won one World Series in three successive attempts. Anyway, in 1954 the St. Louis Browns moved to Baltimore and became the Orioles. For several years, the O's kept the Browns brownish unis, eventually morphing from brown to a dull orange. For one year only, they tried an alternate uni at home that featured an orange jersey and pants. I think it speaks for itself -- not the best look. It must've gone over with a dud, as they used orange only as an accent color the following three years before going back to orange jerseys for a long stretch. The question on my mind is: Does Listmaker have this vintage orange uni, and if so would he kindly model it?
No. 6
1975 Cleveland Indians (79-80; 4th in AL East)
Everyone knows the Indians sucked in the '70s. Matter of fact, they pretty much defined mediocrity throughout the '60s, '70s, and '80s, until Albert Belle and Manny Ramirez rescued them in the mid-'90s. That '75 team was managed by 39 year-old, rookie skipper Frank Robinson, who took his turn in the field as well. Was it Frank's idea to make one of the Indians' two road unis feature red pants and jerseys? (Maybe he was inspired by the success of the '71 O's? After all, Boog Powell played on this Cleveland team, too.) They sort of look like ketchup bottles, especially if you imagine the unis without the blue undershirts. The unis stuck around throughout Robinson's three-year stint as manager, and then promptly disappeared just as he did. So maybe he did have something to do with the bold look?
No. 5
1963 Kansas City A's (73-89; 8th in AL)
In the '60s, the KC A's were continuing their proud tradition of being a farm team for the Yankees. The A's roster was like a turnstile during this time. They would ship their best talent to the Yankees and other winning clubs in losing trades time and time again. Their stability was so poor that the team actually used 11 managers in the decade of the '60s alone. This particular team featured a bunch of who-dats: Bobby Del Greco, Gino Cimoli, Jose "Father of Danny" Tartabull, Ed Charles, and the like. Five years later, owner Charlie Finley would move the team to Oakland. But in '63, Finley had other changes in mind, namely to his team's unis. This was the beginning of the colors green and yellow for the A's. Finely ditched red and blue for the more vibrant scheme, which surely shocked his players as much as the fans. At least he had some restraint: Upon moving the team to Oakland in '68, Finley decided to make the socks yellow, too. It would have been easy to select any of the '70s A's unis for this list, but this is where they all got their start.
No. 4
1972 San Diego Padres (58-95; last in NL West)
Speaking of yellow, how about this variation on a theme? Ugh. Coupled with the brown, doesn't this scheme sort of resemble cat diarrhea? The Padres have had some ugly uniforms since their inception in '69, but none top this uni, which somehow survived for two seasons. I don't know how anyone could get geared up to play when part of the process involved slipping into this uniform. Sure enough, the Padres won just 37% of their games while wearing these colors. In '72, they were under the guidance of rookie manager Don Zimmer, who had an anemic offense and an abysmal pitching staff to name as scapegoats. But I'd still blame the unis.
No. 3
1975 Houston Astros (64-97; last in NL West)
Seriously, are you keeping track of how many of these teams suck? How can you possibly ignore the threads when considering how poorly these teams performed? The Astros went radical in '75 with the debut of these famous jerseys, which they wore both at home and on the road. Never has any team tried something so odd. I was tempted to put this uni on the good list, simply because it's such a ballsy design. But let's be honest, do bands of orange and yellow stripes do much for hiding the gut of a major league player? I think not. But the Stros kept these jerseys around until 1987. And throughout those years, they did have some flashes of brilliance, three times winning their division. But in '75 they stunk. Fireballer J.R. Richard, then 25, had yet to strut his All-Star stuff, and veteran Larry Dierker was at the end of the rainbow (and there was no pot of gold). But over the next four seasons Richard would win 74 games and strike out 1,044 batters while his team slowly rose in the standings.
No. 2
1979 Philadelphia Phillies (84-78; 4th in NL East)
Well, pick your poison with this one. I hate all three of these uniforms. The Phillies had been sporting the maroon pinstripes at home for years. It's the easiest one to swallow of the bunch, but still makes my stomach turn due to the lack of an accent color. So you would think adding another color would help. But when that color is baby blue, well, puke. Those road jerseys had been around for several seasons as well. But the all maroon solid color look, that was new in '79 with the arrival of Pete Rose, and it didn't last a year longer. I'm guessing that Mike Schmidt and Steve Carlton approached ownership after the season and said, "Either the alternate unis go, or we go." And the Phils chose wisely.
No. 1
1977 Pittsburgh Pirates (96-66; 2nd in NL East)
Chuck Tanner's "Fam-a-Lee" sure played the game the right way; too bad they were wearing the wrong unis. The Pirates needed to fire their creative director. I mean, who came up with one of these unis and then said, "You know what? We need four more uniforms to complement this one. I'll get to work." All five of these unis debuted in '77, even though they were popularized by the '79 World Series winners. I've got an image of Dave Parker in uni No. 4 emblazened in my mind from my childhood, and I don't think I could shake it if I wanted to. The worst part of these uniforms was the hat, with its piping wrapping around the skull several times. U.G.L.Y. But the ridiculousness of Pittsburgh's uniforms coincided with the excessiveness of the Disco era, and in part I can excuse such blunders in design as a result. Still, large adult men simply should not wear bright yellow uniforms. M and Chris may disagree, but they're just allowing their childhood emotions to get the best of 'em.
Baseball unis from 1950 on are, for the most part, a bore. I had a hard time finding anything from 1950-1970 worth including on this list. Uniforms were plain Jane, to a fault. The same can be said for 1990 onward. The years inbetween, especially the flamboyant '70s, make up the bulk of this list thanks to uniforms featuring lots of color. Enough color to blind you. Colors that grown men should never wear from head to toe. And that makes their selection almost too easy. Or, maybe too hard. It's difficult to fault those who tried to stray from the norm. But instead of interjecting just a splash of color, these uniforms go overboard. Here's the losers...
No. 10
1969 Seattle Pilots (64-98; last in AL West)
Ah, the one-year losers that gave us Jim Bouton's Ball Four and these sickly road unis. The Pilots got the trend started: yellow as an accent color on powder blue unis. Upon relocating to Milwaukee in 1970 and renaming themselves the Brewers, the team continued this terrible tradition well into the '80s. But back to the Pilots, led by a group of grizzled vets, including two-time batting champ Tommy Davis and the aforementioned Bouton, the Pilots stunk it up and would be all but forgotten if not for Ball Four, easily one of the top five baseball books ever published.
No. 9
1983 New York Mets (68-94; last in NL East)
From 1962-82, the Mets home uniform looked pretty much the same. Pinstripes, blue caps and stirrups, and "Mets" scrawled across the chest in cursive. In 1983, they added a small embellishment -- an orange and blue stripe -- down the shoulders and up the sides. In a word: overkill. Why add stripes to a pinstriped uni? The Mets had been sucking for years, and this change to their uni's trim did little to turn that around in their first season in revamped unis. However, in the following season Davey Johnson came on board as skipper, Darryl Strawberry blossomed, and a young kid named Doc Gooden toed the rubber in his rookie season. Needless to say, they did alright despite their uniforms.No. 8
1977 Atlanta Braves (61-101; last in NL West)
In case you haven't noticed the trend yet, teams playing in ugly uniforms haven't fared so well. The '77 Braves didn't buck that trend, finishing a distant last to the Garvey-Cey-Lopes-Russell Dodgers. Red pinstripes should never be an option. Ever. This was the first of four years the Braves tried this look for their home jerseys, and they won an average of just 69 games per year over that time span. The '77 Braves featured one of my favorite-named players of all time, catcher Biff Picoroba, as well as slugger Jeff Burroughs and a second-year outfielder soon to break through, Dale Murphy. A couple other points of interest about this team: 1) Phil Niekro tossed 330 innings that year, the first of three-straight years of 330-plus innings; and 2) media mogul and hands-on team owner Ted Turner took a turn as manager one day in the '77 season. It was his first, and only, turn as skipper, and the Braves did him the honor of losing. About managing, Turner said, "Managing isn't that difficult, you just have to score more runs than the other guy". On this day, he didn't, as they lost 6-2 to the Big Red Machine.No. 7
1971 Baltimore Orioles (101-57; won AL pennant)
The '71 O's bucked the losing trend of the other teams on this list with their third-straight 100-win season. Earl Weaver's boys were led by sluggers Frank Robinson and Boog Powell and a vacuum cleaner at third, Brooks Robinson. And in this particular year, four 20-game winners: Cuellar, Dobson, Palmer, and McNally. Helluva team; still surprises me that they only won one World Series in three successive attempts. Anyway, in 1954 the St. Louis Browns moved to Baltimore and became the Orioles. For several years, the O's kept the Browns brownish unis, eventually morphing from brown to a dull orange. For one year only, they tried an alternate uni at home that featured an orange jersey and pants. I think it speaks for itself -- not the best look. It must've gone over with a dud, as they used orange only as an accent color the following three years before going back to orange jerseys for a long stretch. The question on my mind is: Does Listmaker have this vintage orange uni, and if so would he kindly model it?No. 6
1975 Cleveland Indians (79-80; 4th in AL East)
Everyone knows the Indians sucked in the '70s. Matter of fact, they pretty much defined mediocrity throughout the '60s, '70s, and '80s, until Albert Belle and Manny Ramirez rescued them in the mid-'90s. That '75 team was managed by 39 year-old, rookie skipper Frank Robinson, who took his turn in the field as well. Was it Frank's idea to make one of the Indians' two road unis feature red pants and jerseys? (Maybe he was inspired by the success of the '71 O's? After all, Boog Powell played on this Cleveland team, too.) They sort of look like ketchup bottles, especially if you imagine the unis without the blue undershirts. The unis stuck around throughout Robinson's three-year stint as manager, and then promptly disappeared just as he did. So maybe he did have something to do with the bold look?
No. 5
1963 Kansas City A's (73-89; 8th in AL)
In the '60s, the KC A's were continuing their proud tradition of being a farm team for the Yankees. The A's roster was like a turnstile during this time. They would ship their best talent to the Yankees and other winning clubs in losing trades time and time again. Their stability was so poor that the team actually used 11 managers in the decade of the '60s alone. This particular team featured a bunch of who-dats: Bobby Del Greco, Gino Cimoli, Jose "Father of Danny" Tartabull, Ed Charles, and the like. Five years later, owner Charlie Finley would move the team to Oakland. But in '63, Finley had other changes in mind, namely to his team's unis. This was the beginning of the colors green and yellow for the A's. Finely ditched red and blue for the more vibrant scheme, which surely shocked his players as much as the fans. At least he had some restraint: Upon moving the team to Oakland in '68, Finley decided to make the socks yellow, too. It would have been easy to select any of the '70s A's unis for this list, but this is where they all got their start.
No. 4
1972 San Diego Padres (58-95; last in NL West)
Speaking of yellow, how about this variation on a theme? Ugh. Coupled with the brown, doesn't this scheme sort of resemble cat diarrhea? The Padres have had some ugly uniforms since their inception in '69, but none top this uni, which somehow survived for two seasons. I don't know how anyone could get geared up to play when part of the process involved slipping into this uniform. Sure enough, the Padres won just 37% of their games while wearing these colors. In '72, they were under the guidance of rookie manager Don Zimmer, who had an anemic offense and an abysmal pitching staff to name as scapegoats. But I'd still blame the unis.
No. 3
1975 Houston Astros (64-97; last in NL West)
Seriously, are you keeping track of how many of these teams suck? How can you possibly ignore the threads when considering how poorly these teams performed? The Astros went radical in '75 with the debut of these famous jerseys, which they wore both at home and on the road. Never has any team tried something so odd. I was tempted to put this uni on the good list, simply because it's such a ballsy design. But let's be honest, do bands of orange and yellow stripes do much for hiding the gut of a major league player? I think not. But the Stros kept these jerseys around until 1987. And throughout those years, they did have some flashes of brilliance, three times winning their division. But in '75 they stunk. Fireballer J.R. Richard, then 25, had yet to strut his All-Star stuff, and veteran Larry Dierker was at the end of the rainbow (and there was no pot of gold). But over the next four seasons Richard would win 74 games and strike out 1,044 batters while his team slowly rose in the standings.No. 2
1979 Philadelphia Phillies (84-78; 4th in NL East)
Well, pick your poison with this one. I hate all three of these uniforms. The Phillies had been sporting the maroon pinstripes at home for years. It's the easiest one to swallow of the bunch, but still makes my stomach turn due to the lack of an accent color. So you would think adding another color would help. But when that color is baby blue, well, puke. Those road jerseys had been around for several seasons as well. But the all maroon solid color look, that was new in '79 with the arrival of Pete Rose, and it didn't last a year longer. I'm guessing that Mike Schmidt and Steve Carlton approached ownership after the season and said, "Either the alternate unis go, or we go." And the Phils chose wisely.
No. 1
1977 Pittsburgh Pirates (96-66; 2nd in NL East)
Chuck Tanner's "Fam-a-Lee" sure played the game the right way; too bad they were wearing the wrong unis. The Pirates needed to fire their creative director. I mean, who came up with one of these unis and then said, "You know what? We need four more uniforms to complement this one. I'll get to work." All five of these unis debuted in '77, even though they were popularized by the '79 World Series winners. I've got an image of Dave Parker in uni No. 4 emblazened in my mind from my childhood, and I don't think I could shake it if I wanted to. The worst part of these uniforms was the hat, with its piping wrapping around the skull several times. U.G.L.Y. But the ridiculousness of Pittsburgh's uniforms coincided with the excessiveness of the Disco era, and in part I can excuse such blunders in design as a result. Still, large adult men simply should not wear bright yellow uniforms. M and Chris may disagree, but they're just allowing their childhood emotions to get the best of 'em.
On turning 30
I believe it was former Giants outfielder Chili Davis who said, "growing old is mandatory; growing up is not." Mark Twain may have put it better when he said, "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." But I prefer the ageless wisdom of Bob Hope, who said, "middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle." So by adopting that philosophy, I'm still in my 20s.
But who am I kidding? The 20s sucked. They were so ... you know ... 20s. At any rate, they're over. Ain't no going back. I woke up one day last month, and I was 30. I even took a picture to prove it.
My 30th just happened to fall on a Sunday, and not just any Sunday but the Sunday that the Cards went for a sweep of the Cubs. To celebrate the potential broomstick I headed to Mike & Molly's with my peeps. There, I met up with the MVP of the '82 World Series, Mr. Darrell Porter, and we enjoyed a cold one. (Left to right: Cold One, Porter, a kick-ass homemade B-day card.)
Later that night, I was given plenty of fabulous gifts. Gary Bennett hit a walk-off grand slam to secure the sweep of the Cubs, and my friends chipped in a stack of old baseball cards (including some Fleer!), several mix CDs, a gift card that turned into Willie Nelson's new book The Tao of Willie, a collection of Cardinals DVDs showcasing their World Series years from the '40s to the present (thanks M!), and the following stellar shirt from D&A (keeping me in the coolest threads as I enter my 30s).
Of course, no birthday at MnMs is complete without an Irish Car Bomb (or two). Bombs away!
I'm not sure that Amy -- who turned 30 just one month prior -- approves of all this drinking.
I leave you with this, a salute to beards and Hall-of-Famers with the baby blue Birds on the Bat. Bet you wish you got this for your b-day, huh?
But who am I kidding? The 20s sucked. They were so ... you know ... 20s. At any rate, they're over. Ain't no going back. I woke up one day last month, and I was 30. I even took a picture to prove it.
My 30th just happened to fall on a Sunday, and not just any Sunday but the Sunday that the Cards went for a sweep of the Cubs. To celebrate the potential broomstick I headed to Mike & Molly's with my peeps. There, I met up with the MVP of the '82 World Series, Mr. Darrell Porter, and we enjoyed a cold one. (Left to right: Cold One, Porter, a kick-ass homemade B-day card.)
Later that night, I was given plenty of fabulous gifts. Gary Bennett hit a walk-off grand slam to secure the sweep of the Cubs, and my friends chipped in a stack of old baseball cards (including some Fleer!), several mix CDs, a gift card that turned into Willie Nelson's new book The Tao of Willie, a collection of Cardinals DVDs showcasing their World Series years from the '40s to the present (thanks M!), and the following stellar shirt from D&A (keeping me in the coolest threads as I enter my 30s).
Of course, no birthday at MnMs is complete without an Irish Car Bomb (or two). Bombs away!
I'm not sure that Amy -- who turned 30 just one month prior -- approves of all this drinking.
I leave you with this, a salute to beards and Hall-of-Famers with the baby blue Birds on the Bat. Bet you wish you got this for your b-day, huh?
8.28.2006
For all of you that may have missed...
The Cards delivered the best 30th birthday gift possible -- a sweep of the Cubs thanks to a 9th-inning, walk-off grand slam by back-up catcher Gary Bennett. His second game-winning hit in two days! Seriously, I screamed my ass off in Mike & Molly's tonight. Thanks to all who were there to share my 30th with me. You will not be forgotten; nor should you find shame in taking a back seat to Gary Bennett on this night. (I kid.) Unforgettable!
8.25.2006
Birds prepare to migrate south (in the standings)
Another day, another rant. I haven't written about the Cardinals in a while. And the reason is simple: they haven't been an inspiring team as of late, as evidenced by their recent sweep at the hands of Listmaker's Big Apple darlings, the Mets. Of course, I saw that one coming from a mile away. With the pitchers we are running out there on a nightly basis, it's a miracle that we win more than 1 out of every 5 games. Outside of Chris Carpenter and his 3.05 ERA, we don't have a single starter in our current rotation with an ERA under 5.00: Suppan, 5.03; Weaver, 5.74; Marquis, 5.77; and Mulder, 6.77 (!). Reyes, who we recently sent back down to AAA to allow space for Mulder to suck ass as he "rehabs", had a 4.73 mark (with a 1.31 WHIP) upon being sent down. In his first start in AAA -- finally outside of the harmful influence of pitching coach Dave Duncan -- he threw six shutout innings and struck out 9. Poor kid just needs a chance to be himself.
The offense hasn't really been the problem, as we saw in the Mets series. Everyone is performing at or above career norms, with the exception of the injured Edmonds. Yes, we have a pathetic bench; sure we have little pop in the bottom third of the order; yes, our leadoff hitter is weak. But we've got the best hitter in baseball in the third-hole, and a mighty fine clean-up hitter behind him. The offense is producing at a good enough clip to keep us in most games, and that's about all you can expect. Could they improve in close-and-late situations? Yes. But is the offense the reason we stink this year; the reason our lead in the Central has evaporated as of today? No.
That fault lies on a pitching staff regressing to its norms. After banking on another awesome season from every member of the rotation -- including Carp, who was just nasty for 5/6 of last season -- every Cardinal pitcher has reverted to his norm, or something close to it. And the signs -- a quick glance at the peripherals, the poor K/9 especially -- were all there. Management fooled themselves if they thought otherwise. Izzy is toast. He's done. He can't accept that his cut fastball ain't cutting like he wants, and so he won't stop throwing it and get back to the basics, what made him a good closer in the first place: a 95mph fastball and a deadly curve. He doesn't even throw the curve with any frequency nowadays. Why not? Cause he's constantly behind in the count, due to a cutter he can't locate.
Izzy's problem is stubbornness, which is unfortunately ingrained in him on a daily basis by his pitching coach and manager -- possibly the two least flexible beings in baseball. I could spend an entire post speaking to the ways in which La Russa and Duncan have ruined their stud youngster, Anthony Reyes, by demanding that he pitch to their style versus the style that has garnered him success throughout his career. But I'll save you those details. The coaching staff's stubbornness is the stuff of legend among Cards fans this year. It's why they continue to trot out Izzy to close games, when anyone -- even Braden F'in Looper -- would be a better bet at this point. It's why they continue to give starts to Marquis and Mulder instead of allowing Wainwright or Reyes -- both obviously more capable pitchers -- to fill in at a time of dire need. It's their instinct to trust veterans over rookies that is killing us right now.
That stubbornness is going to cost us a trip to the playoffs. But they're not entirely to blame. The GM and ownership also should receive a healthy wag of the finger. Jocketty set us up for a dud of a season by failing to make any impact moves in the offseason. The lone impact moves for this season were: 1) a spring-training roster decision made by La Russa, allowing Wainwright a role in the bullpen (he quickly advanced from long-relief to set-up man on the strength of his stuff, and he now owns the pen's best ERA at 3.14); and 2) allowing Chris Duncan some PT around mid-season (he's since become our BEST hitter this side of Pujols). Imagine that: two youngsters coming up big. Huh. Go figure. We've essentially stockpiled a collection of DFA-worthy veteran scrubs this season: Aaron Miles, Deivi Cruz, So Taguchi, Larry Bigbie, Gary Bennett, Randy Flores, Sidney Ponson, Junior Spivey, Timo Perez, Jeff Weaver, Preston Wilson, Jose Vizcaino, and Jorge Sosa. Those last five names were all acquired around or since the trading deadline -- all of them DFA'ed by their former teams. Ponson, Perez, Cruz, and Spivey have all since been DFA'ed by the Cards. This was our attempt to improve our roster in the offseason.
Then there's the owners perceived greed this season. They opened a new ballpark, sold-out the entire season, created several new sources of revenue, and have refused to budge payroll up in a significant manner. They claim its not how much you spend, it's how you spend it, which is true. And look at how we've spent our money: on a long list of DFAs. Why? Jocketty claims it was a better decision to roll the dice on them rather than spend on proven talent. Of course, for him, proven talent means Juan Encarnacion. So I sorta get his drift. But I'm not buying into it.
Point being: Cards fans got a bum deal this year. We're not going to make the playoffs on the pace we're on now -- and even if we do, we'll probably be drop our first postseason series. Coming off of a trip to the World Series and a trip to the NLCS, that's simply not good enough. Sorry.
The result is that we may just turn into the Cubs: pack the park every year and watch a mediocre team take the field. I'd look into a new coaching staff first, and a new owner second. That won't happen, of course. But it doesn't mean it shouldn't.
The offense hasn't really been the problem, as we saw in the Mets series. Everyone is performing at or above career norms, with the exception of the injured Edmonds. Yes, we have a pathetic bench; sure we have little pop in the bottom third of the order; yes, our leadoff hitter is weak. But we've got the best hitter in baseball in the third-hole, and a mighty fine clean-up hitter behind him. The offense is producing at a good enough clip to keep us in most games, and that's about all you can expect. Could they improve in close-and-late situations? Yes. But is the offense the reason we stink this year; the reason our lead in the Central has evaporated as of today? No.
That fault lies on a pitching staff regressing to its norms. After banking on another awesome season from every member of the rotation -- including Carp, who was just nasty for 5/6 of last season -- every Cardinal pitcher has reverted to his norm, or something close to it. And the signs -- a quick glance at the peripherals, the poor K/9 especially -- were all there. Management fooled themselves if they thought otherwise. Izzy is toast. He's done. He can't accept that his cut fastball ain't cutting like he wants, and so he won't stop throwing it and get back to the basics, what made him a good closer in the first place: a 95mph fastball and a deadly curve. He doesn't even throw the curve with any frequency nowadays. Why not? Cause he's constantly behind in the count, due to a cutter he can't locate.
Izzy's problem is stubbornness, which is unfortunately ingrained in him on a daily basis by his pitching coach and manager -- possibly the two least flexible beings in baseball. I could spend an entire post speaking to the ways in which La Russa and Duncan have ruined their stud youngster, Anthony Reyes, by demanding that he pitch to their style versus the style that has garnered him success throughout his career. But I'll save you those details. The coaching staff's stubbornness is the stuff of legend among Cards fans this year. It's why they continue to trot out Izzy to close games, when anyone -- even Braden F'in Looper -- would be a better bet at this point. It's why they continue to give starts to Marquis and Mulder instead of allowing Wainwright or Reyes -- both obviously more capable pitchers -- to fill in at a time of dire need. It's their instinct to trust veterans over rookies that is killing us right now.
That stubbornness is going to cost us a trip to the playoffs. But they're not entirely to blame. The GM and ownership also should receive a healthy wag of the finger. Jocketty set us up for a dud of a season by failing to make any impact moves in the offseason. The lone impact moves for this season were: 1) a spring-training roster decision made by La Russa, allowing Wainwright a role in the bullpen (he quickly advanced from long-relief to set-up man on the strength of his stuff, and he now owns the pen's best ERA at 3.14); and 2) allowing Chris Duncan some PT around mid-season (he's since become our BEST hitter this side of Pujols). Imagine that: two youngsters coming up big. Huh. Go figure. We've essentially stockpiled a collection of DFA-worthy veteran scrubs this season: Aaron Miles, Deivi Cruz, So Taguchi, Larry Bigbie, Gary Bennett, Randy Flores, Sidney Ponson, Junior Spivey, Timo Perez, Jeff Weaver, Preston Wilson, Jose Vizcaino, and Jorge Sosa. Those last five names were all acquired around or since the trading deadline -- all of them DFA'ed by their former teams. Ponson, Perez, Cruz, and Spivey have all since been DFA'ed by the Cards. This was our attempt to improve our roster in the offseason.
Then there's the owners perceived greed this season. They opened a new ballpark, sold-out the entire season, created several new sources of revenue, and have refused to budge payroll up in a significant manner. They claim its not how much you spend, it's how you spend it, which is true. And look at how we've spent our money: on a long list of DFAs. Why? Jocketty claims it was a better decision to roll the dice on them rather than spend on proven talent. Of course, for him, proven talent means Juan Encarnacion. So I sorta get his drift. But I'm not buying into it.
Point being: Cards fans got a bum deal this year. We're not going to make the playoffs on the pace we're on now -- and even if we do, we'll probably be drop our first postseason series. Coming off of a trip to the World Series and a trip to the NLCS, that's simply not good enough. Sorry.
The result is that we may just turn into the Cubs: pack the park every year and watch a mediocre team take the field. I'd look into a new coaching staff first, and a new owner second. That won't happen, of course. But it doesn't mean it shouldn't.
8.22.2006
Fixing the Fork
As I sit here sipping on my Fuze White Tea and listening to The Gongettes "Gong Gong Song" -- one of the best '60s girl group songs you've never heard -- I'm pleasantly reminded of how I'm just soooo much fucking hipper than you. I may be turning 30 in less than a week, but I'll be damned if I'm not still going to be cooler than you -- all because of the music knowledge in my noggin. And thanks to such knowledge, I can tell you plainly that Pitchfork's recent countdown of the top 200 songs of the '60s is total bullshit. Complete, utter crap. A total waste of time. An exercise in jacking off. Good for several hearty laughs. Et cetera.
Okay, kidding aside (about me, not the Fork), the list is a ridiculous attempt to catalogue the best decade in rock music history, and flawed through and through. Pitchfork provides us with no real reasoning for how they selected the songs, other than stating they limited the list to five songs per artist, entirely fair to bands both prolific and superb like the Rolling Stones and The Beatles. We don't know if they polled their writers (as they've done in the past) for a ranked list of 100 songs and then tabulated the results to give us an overall ranking. Although, it's pretty clear by looking at the list that they did not. (They couldn't have possibly had enough critics vote for Ennio Morricone's theme song "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" for it to end up ranked No. 32. No fucking way. And if they did go this route -- wherein someone on their staff of, say, 30 peeps, selected that tune No. 1 or 2 on their list which in turn gave it enough "points" to earn a No. 32 overall rating -- then once again we're seeing a clear flaw.) So, we have to suppose then that they simply had some sort of a roundtable discussion, with certain people spearheading the decision making about how high certain songs should be ranked. And of course, that's what I think they did, especially considering how tailored and snobby the list ended up. Then there's the staff's obvious desire to be genre inclusive; instead of sticking to rock and excluding other genres, they attempt to incorporate jazz, country, electronic music, R&B, and other genres, which only leads us to contemplate apples and oranges. A bad decision I think.
Anyway, humor me while I debate some of the more, well, suspicious selections. The list is suspect from the start. Before we even make it out of the bottom 10, Nos. 200-191, we find trouble: Johnny and June's "Jackson" is No. 193. A song that is clearly considered by plenty to be among the finest tunes in Cash's catalogue -- and no I'm not just sentimental a year after seeing the flick in the theater -- and it barely cracks the list? Pa-lease! Or, how about song No. 200, The Kinks' "Sunny Afternoon", from their unfortunately overlooked 1966 masterpiece Face to Face? Sure, it's a good song. But name me a person with ears who finds it a more valuable asset to society than its record-mate, "Rosie Won't You Please Come Home", and I'll show you a red-faced liar. Sure, this is all up for grabs -- and my opinion shouldn't hold more weight per say -- but listen to the Fork's explanation for why this song made the cut: "While already rightly revered as bratty garage rockers by the time of this track's release, the Kinks truly excelled when singer Ray Davies took a more observational, wry approach to songwriting -- and "Sunny Afternoon" is one of his wriest on record." Oh, okay, so it's more wry than the rest. Gotcha.
Debates aside -- cause I could debate plenty on this list -- how does one reasonably say that "Sunny Afternoon" is a cut above "Dedicated Follower of Fashion" or "Tired of Waiting for You" or "David Watts", none of which made the list? And while we're on the subject of The Kinks (okay, fuck not debating this shit), what the hell is up with "You Really Got Me" at No. 88? Oh, let's just neglect the song that spawned punk and hard rock with one mighty swing of Dave Davies' axe. Eighty-eight? Gimme a break.
There's plenty of additional WTF moments throughout the list. MC5's "Kick out the Jams" at No. 176 when it was an anthem for rebellion in the anti-government climate of the late-'60s? The Kingsmen's "Louie Louie" at No. 154? Oh, sure, cause it didn't kickstart a national garage rock phenomenon or anything (and besides that fact is a bitchin' song). John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things" at No. 130? Sorry, but the song defined the man's greatness on so many levels. (And there's only three other "jazz" tunes ahead of it on the list -- Miles at No. 125, Ray at No. 52, and Vince Gauraldi at No. 43. Must've been a slow decade for jazz, eh?) Ben E. King's "Stand By Me" doesn't break the Top 100? Neither does Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'", Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" (which has no business on this list since it was originally recorded in the 1920s), or Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces". Simon & Garfunkel's classic "Mrs. Robinson" peaks at No. 94. Why, cause it's too popular?
Speaking of popular, "staples" like the Stones' "Satisfaction" and The Who's "My Generation" are totally absent. Meanwhile, did you know that The Beatles' "I Am the Walrus", "Tomorrow Never Knows", and "A Day in the Life" were the best three songs they ever recorded? Tis true! That's not eye-opening enough for you? How about this: there are four Beach Boys tunes in the Top 21, including "God Only Knows" at No. 1. Now that's a damn fine tune -- and works perfectly as the theme song to HBO's Big Love -- but I can't even say it's the best song on Pet Sounds ("I'm Waiting for the Day" or "Wouldn't It Be Nice"), let alone the best song of the entire decade.
As for how I would change this exercise: For starters, stick to one genre, like rock/pop. Adding in jazz and country (while mysteriously snubbing blues) just muddies up the water. (It's clear Pitchfork's intent was to focus on rock/pop, so do so exclusively.) Not to mention, each genre is worthy of their own list. You can't do any of them justice by sprinkling a few singles in amongst the majority of rock/pop cuts. And considering the decade, it's not like country tunes were competing on the charts with rock singles. So, keep 'em separate. That opens up slots on the list for obvious MIAs like Captain Beefheart, Wilson Pickett, the Small Faces, the Dave Clark Five, Paul Revere & the Raiders, The Doors, more early rock & roll artists from both sides of the pond, and more of the deserving (albeit one-off) garage rockers.
The big change I would make is to own up to the fact that your list is going to have a lot in common with Time-Life compilations: you can't get around selecting songs like "Satisfaction", "Purple Haze", "Mr. Tambourine Man", and "Blowin' in the Wind" simply because they're ingrained in our fabric. A song's timelessness is one of the biggest clues as to whether it warrants inclusion. So stop trying to inform people of how "under the radar" you can fly and instead try to create the best list, period. At least, that's my two cents.
Okay, kidding aside (about me, not the Fork), the list is a ridiculous attempt to catalogue the best decade in rock music history, and flawed through and through. Pitchfork provides us with no real reasoning for how they selected the songs, other than stating they limited the list to five songs per artist, entirely fair to bands both prolific and superb like the Rolling Stones and The Beatles. We don't know if they polled their writers (as they've done in the past) for a ranked list of 100 songs and then tabulated the results to give us an overall ranking. Although, it's pretty clear by looking at the list that they did not. (They couldn't have possibly had enough critics vote for Ennio Morricone's theme song "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" for it to end up ranked No. 32. No fucking way. And if they did go this route -- wherein someone on their staff of, say, 30 peeps, selected that tune No. 1 or 2 on their list which in turn gave it enough "points" to earn a No. 32 overall rating -- then once again we're seeing a clear flaw.) So, we have to suppose then that they simply had some sort of a roundtable discussion, with certain people spearheading the decision making about how high certain songs should be ranked. And of course, that's what I think they did, especially considering how tailored and snobby the list ended up. Then there's the staff's obvious desire to be genre inclusive; instead of sticking to rock and excluding other genres, they attempt to incorporate jazz, country, electronic music, R&B, and other genres, which only leads us to contemplate apples and oranges. A bad decision I think.
Anyway, humor me while I debate some of the more, well, suspicious selections. The list is suspect from the start. Before we even make it out of the bottom 10, Nos. 200-191, we find trouble: Johnny and June's "Jackson" is No. 193. A song that is clearly considered by plenty to be among the finest tunes in Cash's catalogue -- and no I'm not just sentimental a year after seeing the flick in the theater -- and it barely cracks the list? Pa-lease! Or, how about song No. 200, The Kinks' "Sunny Afternoon", from their unfortunately overlooked 1966 masterpiece Face to Face? Sure, it's a good song. But name me a person with ears who finds it a more valuable asset to society than its record-mate, "Rosie Won't You Please Come Home", and I'll show you a red-faced liar. Sure, this is all up for grabs -- and my opinion shouldn't hold more weight per say -- but listen to the Fork's explanation for why this song made the cut: "While already rightly revered as bratty garage rockers by the time of this track's release, the Kinks truly excelled when singer Ray Davies took a more observational, wry approach to songwriting -- and "Sunny Afternoon" is one of his wriest on record." Oh, okay, so it's more wry than the rest. Gotcha.
Debates aside -- cause I could debate plenty on this list -- how does one reasonably say that "Sunny Afternoon" is a cut above "Dedicated Follower of Fashion" or "Tired of Waiting for You" or "David Watts", none of which made the list? And while we're on the subject of The Kinks (okay, fuck not debating this shit), what the hell is up with "You Really Got Me" at No. 88? Oh, let's just neglect the song that spawned punk and hard rock with one mighty swing of Dave Davies' axe. Eighty-eight? Gimme a break.
There's plenty of additional WTF moments throughout the list. MC5's "Kick out the Jams" at No. 176 when it was an anthem for rebellion in the anti-government climate of the late-'60s? The Kingsmen's "Louie Louie" at No. 154? Oh, sure, cause it didn't kickstart a national garage rock phenomenon or anything (and besides that fact is a bitchin' song). John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things" at No. 130? Sorry, but the song defined the man's greatness on so many levels. (And there's only three other "jazz" tunes ahead of it on the list -- Miles at No. 125, Ray at No. 52, and Vince Gauraldi at No. 43. Must've been a slow decade for jazz, eh?) Ben E. King's "Stand By Me" doesn't break the Top 100? Neither does Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'", Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" (which has no business on this list since it was originally recorded in the 1920s), or Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces". Simon & Garfunkel's classic "Mrs. Robinson" peaks at No. 94. Why, cause it's too popular?
Speaking of popular, "staples" like the Stones' "Satisfaction" and The Who's "My Generation" are totally absent. Meanwhile, did you know that The Beatles' "I Am the Walrus", "Tomorrow Never Knows", and "A Day in the Life" were the best three songs they ever recorded? Tis true! That's not eye-opening enough for you? How about this: there are four Beach Boys tunes in the Top 21, including "God Only Knows" at No. 1. Now that's a damn fine tune -- and works perfectly as the theme song to HBO's Big Love -- but I can't even say it's the best song on Pet Sounds ("I'm Waiting for the Day" or "Wouldn't It Be Nice"), let alone the best song of the entire decade.
As for how I would change this exercise: For starters, stick to one genre, like rock/pop. Adding in jazz and country (while mysteriously snubbing blues) just muddies up the water. (It's clear Pitchfork's intent was to focus on rock/pop, so do so exclusively.) Not to mention, each genre is worthy of their own list. You can't do any of them justice by sprinkling a few singles in amongst the majority of rock/pop cuts. And considering the decade, it's not like country tunes were competing on the charts with rock singles. So, keep 'em separate. That opens up slots on the list for obvious MIAs like Captain Beefheart, Wilson Pickett, the Small Faces, the Dave Clark Five, Paul Revere & the Raiders, The Doors, more early rock & roll artists from both sides of the pond, and more of the deserving (albeit one-off) garage rockers.
The big change I would make is to own up to the fact that your list is going to have a lot in common with Time-Life compilations: you can't get around selecting songs like "Satisfaction", "Purple Haze", "Mr. Tambourine Man", and "Blowin' in the Wind" simply because they're ingrained in our fabric. A song's timelessness is one of the biggest clues as to whether it warrants inclusion. So stop trying to inform people of how "under the radar" you can fly and instead try to create the best list, period. At least, that's my two cents.
8.17.2006
50 cents a pack: John Henry Johnson
I've been meaning to post a link to this article about the demise of baseball cards for a while. Sadly, I came up in the same era of collecting as the author. I still have about 40 too many Bobby Bonilla rookie cards. Sigh.
At least I still have my 1987 Topps John Henry Johnson card to keep me happy. This particular year of Topps cards has to be among the ugliest baseball cards of all time. I mean, wood grain? C'mon. I'm sure they were going for a retro feel, but they failed.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the man with three first names -- other than, what the fuck is up with that hair? Seriously. White boy fro! It looks as if someone gave poor Johnny the Wooly Willy treatment.
Johnson's eight-year career was so forgettable that the amazing factoid Topps provides on the back of his card is ... drum roll ... wait for it ... "John Henry participated in Little League ball." Well that surely distinguishes him from the pack.
To be fair, there were a few high points to his career. For starters, he was traded along with seven others by the Giants to the A's to acquire Hall of Fame hurler Vida Blue (who may have his own 50 cents entry later). He debuted in the majors the year of the trade ('78), and had a decent rookie year: better-than-average 3.39 ERA, 11 wins, and 186 innings pitched. He was actually seventh in the league in hits allowed per nine innings. He stunk it up for the A's the following year and was traded mid-season to the Rangers, where he continued to stink. In 1980, the Rangers said "to hell with you starting" and moved him to the pen, where he posted a sparkling 2.33 ERA and better than a K per inning in limited duty, probably saving his major league career in the process.
I'm guessing injuries did him in in '81, as he only pitched in 24 games and missed all of '82. Interesting side note: Johnson went from striking out 1.2 batters per inning in '80 to 0.3 in '81 -- probably due to an arm injury that caused a drop in velocity. Texas dealt him to Boston, where Johnson regained his K-form and became a serviceable reliever. Again, he missed an entire season in '85, however. I'm not sure if it was injury again, or what. He was released by the BoSox in April of '85, and signed ten days later by the Pirates, who then released him in late July without him ever taking the mound. Must have been another injury or a rehab gone wrong. But a month later, Johnson was signed by the Brewers -- his third team in one season despite never playing in a major league game. Hmmm...
Johnson (and his hair) was healthy enough to pitch in 19 games for the '86 Brewers, in which he posted a 2.66 ERA. For his services, he netted $60,000. The following year he got bombed to the tune of a 9.57 ERA in 26 innings, and his career was over. John Johnson never pitched for a division winner, so there's no postseason stats to examine. Oh well, maybe he won a championship in Little League.
At least I still have my 1987 Topps John Henry Johnson card to keep me happy. This particular year of Topps cards has to be among the ugliest baseball cards of all time. I mean, wood grain? C'mon. I'm sure they were going for a retro feel, but they failed.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the man with three first names -- other than, what the fuck is up with that hair? Seriously. White boy fro! It looks as if someone gave poor Johnny the Wooly Willy treatment.
Johnson's eight-year career was so forgettable that the amazing factoid Topps provides on the back of his card is ... drum roll ... wait for it ... "John Henry participated in Little League ball." Well that surely distinguishes him from the pack.
To be fair, there were a few high points to his career. For starters, he was traded along with seven others by the Giants to the A's to acquire Hall of Fame hurler Vida Blue (who may have his own 50 cents entry later). He debuted in the majors the year of the trade ('78), and had a decent rookie year: better-than-average 3.39 ERA, 11 wins, and 186 innings pitched. He was actually seventh in the league in hits allowed per nine innings. He stunk it up for the A's the following year and was traded mid-season to the Rangers, where he continued to stink. In 1980, the Rangers said "to hell with you starting" and moved him to the pen, where he posted a sparkling 2.33 ERA and better than a K per inning in limited duty, probably saving his major league career in the process.
I'm guessing injuries did him in in '81, as he only pitched in 24 games and missed all of '82. Interesting side note: Johnson went from striking out 1.2 batters per inning in '80 to 0.3 in '81 -- probably due to an arm injury that caused a drop in velocity. Texas dealt him to Boston, where Johnson regained his K-form and became a serviceable reliever. Again, he missed an entire season in '85, however. I'm not sure if it was injury again, or what. He was released by the BoSox in April of '85, and signed ten days later by the Pirates, who then released him in late July without him ever taking the mound. Must have been another injury or a rehab gone wrong. But a month later, Johnson was signed by the Brewers -- his third team in one season despite never playing in a major league game. Hmmm...
Johnson (and his hair) was healthy enough to pitch in 19 games for the '86 Brewers, in which he posted a 2.66 ERA. For his services, he netted $60,000. The following year he got bombed to the tune of a 9.57 ERA in 26 innings, and his career was over. John Johnson never pitched for a division winner, so there's no postseason stats to examine. Oh well, maybe he won a championship in Little League.
8.12.2006
Sorry it's been a while
I'll pick up the posting pace once work settles down in, uh, well, sometime in the future. In the book publishing business, the summer months are the busiest, which sucks for a long list of obvious reasons. While many of my friends are taking lengthy jaunts across the country, sipping adult beverages on the beach, or simply going out 'til 3 in the morning and sleeping in 'til noon, I'm busting my ass at work.
I've worked close to 40 hours of OT in the past two weeks alone. Since we release about 70% of our list in-between July and September, that means I'm on a perpetual deadline from about May 15 through late August. This year our production department also downsized, causing the well-oiled machine to get gummied up. And my entire department (all 4 of us) had to move our offices this week to a new part of the building. In the process, I lost my: 1) ceiling; 2) door; and 3) window. I gained a few square feet in the shift, but now I'm in a loft space with tall walls, but no way to keep the sound from traveling. Worse yet, I'm about 10 feet from a printer that squawks and squeaks every time it's asked to do its thing.
To remind me once again that I'm overworked and underpaid, a new project was conveniently dropped in my lap a few weeks ago. It's a 300-page coffee table book on a certain NYC neighborhood that I shall not name for Googling purposes. Let's just call it "America's most diverse ethnic neighborhood," a claim that I don't endorse, but nonetheless one that we're considering for the book's subtitle. We're to receive all of the materials for the book by Aug. 21, and the book needs to go to the printer 11 days later. Not 11 "work" days, mind you, but by Sept. 1. In other words, it's what we call an "instant book".
The short of it with these instant books is that the source providing us with the photos and text needs to be on top of their game. We know how to put these suckers together and without fail hit our deadlines. And we usually receive adequate cooperation from the source, because that source is typically a newspaper. Obviously, they have experience in hitting deadlines, too. But this time, the source is a Chamber of Commerce, and while they're working in tangent with NYC's second-highest circulating daily, they are not used to working on deadlines of this nature. They also lack some common tools, like the ability to follow simple directions that I give them. I ask them for chickens, and they give me monkeys. Woe is me. The short of it is, to all my NYC friends, I would highly recommend NOT purchasing this book.
Outside of work, I've been busy on the weekends. Two weeks ago I soaked through two T-shirts in the 90-plus degree sunshine at the Pitchfork Festival. I was excited about the lineup, but I think the weather clouded my enjoyment by providing a lack of cloud coverage. Still, it was great to see the following bands, in order:
1) Jens Lekman: We got to the festival on Day 2 a song or two into Jens' early-afternoon set, but what we saw was just FUN FUN FUN! Jens had a 6-female backing band of Swedes, including a three-person horn section. He's such a great performer, and he proved me foolish for wondering how the intimate club performance I witnessed a couple years ago would transfer to the big stage.
2) Destroyer: I love Dan Bejar, and his set, featuring almost exclusively songs from his latest album, Destroyer's Rubies, met expectations for my first live encounter. His was one of the only sets that I camped out up front for, quite a feat considering he was on during the beastly late-afternoon sun. But the lead guitar blasting into my left ear was a thing of beauty.
3) Mission of Burma: Plenty of late-'70s/early-'80s bands that are reforming as of late have no business playing their old material, let alone recording new stuff. They come across as second-rate cover bands, in part because they're missing original members and in part because they've simply aged and lost their spunk. However, MOB's new material is full of punch, and their old songs -- like my personal fave "Academy Fight Song" -- still sound spectacular. (On a related note: Os Mutantes didn't do much for me. They sound little like their original selves, and they were missing original frontwoman Rita Lee. Boo!)
4) Devendra Banhart: With a bearded, long-haired lookalike backing rock band (think: Skynyrd), Devendra came across much different than on record. For having three electric guitarists on stage, he was still very mellow. And his in-between song banter was a bit befuddling and longwinded at times. (He actually invited some guy from the audience on stage as a lark, I presume, to perform a song. The kid gets up there, straps on Devednra's guitar, and the band leaves the stage, bottles of Jack in hand. The kid, obviously influenced by Banhart, plays an original song that was not embarrasing given the circumstances, much to the crowd's approval. Unfortunately, this stripped about 10 minutes from Devendra's set.) All in all, a mixed back from Banhart. I wish I would've saw him do a solo gig two years ago, when I had the tickets in hand.
Bands I missed or ignored while laying in the shade/eating tamales/drenching myself in the misting tent/waiting in line for Ben & Jerry's/camping out in front of the opposite stage for the next band: Yo La Tengo (sounded more rockin' from a distance), Spoon (the usual), Ted Leo (heard he bloodied his forehead by headbutting the mic), Art Brut (snore), The Mountain Goats (man they were quiet), and The Futureheads (sounded good from a distance). Bands I didn't have the patience for: The Liars (too hot for that shit), The Silver Jews (too tired for that shit), and Man Man (too far away for that shit).
All in all, the sound quality was poor again this year. I'm guessing they can only crank it up so loud due to the surrounding neighborhoods, but at a festival with 15-20,000 peeps in attendance, you don't want to have the wind fucking with your ability to hear the music when you're standing a football field away from the stage due to the massive crowd. The weather was again unbearable, making my mood and energy level -- and hence my enjoyment -- of the festival a wash. Despite the affordable tickets, food, and drink, I won't be going next year unless they raise Syd, Jimi, Stiv, and Arthur from the dead.
Last weekend, I spent time with my family in celebration of our many August birthdays. Mine is included in that list; I turn 30 on Aug. 27. More details to come on what, if anything, I'll be doing locally to celebrate another year of living.
Now, since it's a gorgeous 73 degrees outside, I'm going to go for a long bike ride to make up for a couple weekends spent drinking beer instead of peddling.
I've worked close to 40 hours of OT in the past two weeks alone. Since we release about 70% of our list in-between July and September, that means I'm on a perpetual deadline from about May 15 through late August. This year our production department also downsized, causing the well-oiled machine to get gummied up. And my entire department (all 4 of us) had to move our offices this week to a new part of the building. In the process, I lost my: 1) ceiling; 2) door; and 3) window. I gained a few square feet in the shift, but now I'm in a loft space with tall walls, but no way to keep the sound from traveling. Worse yet, I'm about 10 feet from a printer that squawks and squeaks every time it's asked to do its thing.
To remind me once again that I'm overworked and underpaid, a new project was conveniently dropped in my lap a few weeks ago. It's a 300-page coffee table book on a certain NYC neighborhood that I shall not name for Googling purposes. Let's just call it "America's most diverse ethnic neighborhood," a claim that I don't endorse, but nonetheless one that we're considering for the book's subtitle. We're to receive all of the materials for the book by Aug. 21, and the book needs to go to the printer 11 days later. Not 11 "work" days, mind you, but by Sept. 1. In other words, it's what we call an "instant book".
The short of it with these instant books is that the source providing us with the photos and text needs to be on top of their game. We know how to put these suckers together and without fail hit our deadlines. And we usually receive adequate cooperation from the source, because that source is typically a newspaper. Obviously, they have experience in hitting deadlines, too. But this time, the source is a Chamber of Commerce, and while they're working in tangent with NYC's second-highest circulating daily, they are not used to working on deadlines of this nature. They also lack some common tools, like the ability to follow simple directions that I give them. I ask them for chickens, and they give me monkeys. Woe is me. The short of it is, to all my NYC friends, I would highly recommend NOT purchasing this book.
Outside of work, I've been busy on the weekends. Two weeks ago I soaked through two T-shirts in the 90-plus degree sunshine at the Pitchfork Festival. I was excited about the lineup, but I think the weather clouded my enjoyment by providing a lack of cloud coverage. Still, it was great to see the following bands, in order:
1) Jens Lekman: We got to the festival on Day 2 a song or two into Jens' early-afternoon set, but what we saw was just FUN FUN FUN! Jens had a 6-female backing band of Swedes, including a three-person horn section. He's such a great performer, and he proved me foolish for wondering how the intimate club performance I witnessed a couple years ago would transfer to the big stage.
2) Destroyer: I love Dan Bejar, and his set, featuring almost exclusively songs from his latest album, Destroyer's Rubies, met expectations for my first live encounter. His was one of the only sets that I camped out up front for, quite a feat considering he was on during the beastly late-afternoon sun. But the lead guitar blasting into my left ear was a thing of beauty.
3) Mission of Burma: Plenty of late-'70s/early-'80s bands that are reforming as of late have no business playing their old material, let alone recording new stuff. They come across as second-rate cover bands, in part because they're missing original members and in part because they've simply aged and lost their spunk. However, MOB's new material is full of punch, and their old songs -- like my personal fave "Academy Fight Song" -- still sound spectacular. (On a related note: Os Mutantes didn't do much for me. They sound little like their original selves, and they were missing original frontwoman Rita Lee. Boo!)
4) Devendra Banhart: With a bearded, long-haired lookalike backing rock band (think: Skynyrd), Devendra came across much different than on record. For having three electric guitarists on stage, he was still very mellow. And his in-between song banter was a bit befuddling and longwinded at times. (He actually invited some guy from the audience on stage as a lark, I presume, to perform a song. The kid gets up there, straps on Devednra's guitar, and the band leaves the stage, bottles of Jack in hand. The kid, obviously influenced by Banhart, plays an original song that was not embarrasing given the circumstances, much to the crowd's approval. Unfortunately, this stripped about 10 minutes from Devendra's set.) All in all, a mixed back from Banhart. I wish I would've saw him do a solo gig two years ago, when I had the tickets in hand.
Bands I missed or ignored while laying in the shade/eating tamales/drenching myself in the misting tent/waiting in line for Ben & Jerry's/camping out in front of the opposite stage for the next band: Yo La Tengo (sounded more rockin' from a distance), Spoon (the usual), Ted Leo (heard he bloodied his forehead by headbutting the mic), Art Brut (snore), The Mountain Goats (man they were quiet), and The Futureheads (sounded good from a distance). Bands I didn't have the patience for: The Liars (too hot for that shit), The Silver Jews (too tired for that shit), and Man Man (too far away for that shit).
All in all, the sound quality was poor again this year. I'm guessing they can only crank it up so loud due to the surrounding neighborhoods, but at a festival with 15-20,000 peeps in attendance, you don't want to have the wind fucking with your ability to hear the music when you're standing a football field away from the stage due to the massive crowd. The weather was again unbearable, making my mood and energy level -- and hence my enjoyment -- of the festival a wash. Despite the affordable tickets, food, and drink, I won't be going next year unless they raise Syd, Jimi, Stiv, and Arthur from the dead.
Last weekend, I spent time with my family in celebration of our many August birthdays. Mine is included in that list; I turn 30 on Aug. 27. More details to come on what, if anything, I'll be doing locally to celebrate another year of living.
Now, since it's a gorgeous 73 degrees outside, I'm going to go for a long bike ride to make up for a couple weekends spent drinking beer instead of peddling.
8.04.2006
Arthur Lee: Alone Again Or
What's up with all of my favorite cult rock figures from the late-'60s passing as of late? First Sir Barrett, now Arthur Lee of Love. If you haven't heard the news, Lee died yesterday after fighting a mighty battle with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The man was an eccentric for sure, with prison terms to his credit, but he was also a true artifact of the '60s that was blessed with a gorgeous voice and one of the best backing bands of all time. If you haven't stumbled upon Love yet, I'll hook you up with some additional mp3s later. I feel like running home right this second to throw on my Love tee shirt. Not sure what the co-workers would think, but fuck 'em. 'Tis a sad day.Love - "Alone Again Or"
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