…to be a Palin fan.
Not so much to be a Cubs fan.
We come from cities
Near and far.
We’ve got Canadians,
Irish ones, and Swedes
We’re all for one,
We’re one for all,
Dottie Collins, a mainstay pitcher of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League, has died of a stroke, at age 84, in Fort Wayne, Indiana, home of the Daisies.
How’d you like to play baseball in a miniskirt? R.I.P., Mrs. Collins.
I haven’t been watching the Olympics much, but I did see Phelps get his seventh, and last night I watched the frame-by-frame replay of Phelps vs. Cavic and the whole women’s 50-meter freestyle.
Michael Phelps vs. Milorad Cavic. One one-hundredth of a second difference between gold and silver. Cavic glided while Phelps took another stroke and came out on top by a fingertip.
Dara Torres vs. Britta Steffen. One one-hundredth of a second difference between silver and gold. Torres glided while Steffen took another stroke and came out on top by a fingertip.
No room for coasting in the Olympics.
What up with this quote, AP?
His Olympics looking lost, Michael Phelps decided to flap those gangly arms one more time.
Lost? His whole Olympics would have been lost had he gotten only seven gold medals instead of eight? Yeah, what a loser, all right. The reporter, that is.
Wow. Twelve thousand calories a day. And what calories! I think even Pippin would have turned his nose up at pizza.
What a circus Green Bay’s management is making of Favre’s wish to unretire. Granted, the wish lends itself to spectacle. In a perfect world Favre would have made sure he was really serious about retirement before going ahead with it, but c’est la vie. NFL Commissioner Goodell has now reinstated Favre, so Green Bay’s choices remain: Play him, trade/release him, or dangle money enough that he will retire at their command.
Management is being extremely silly here. They say they want to move forward with Favre’s replacement QB, but they won’t release Favre because they’re afraid he’ll sign with the Vikings.
This is not even silly; it is downright stupid. There are only two possibilities here that should dictate management’s action: Either they believe 1) That Favre can play at something approximating his optimal levels; or 2) That Favre cannot play at these levels. If they think he can play, they should have taken him back, no questions asked, except with a little private grumbling and a sop to his potential replacement. The man should have earned a little leeway, not to mention loyalty, by now. Replacement QBs will come and go, but in Green Bay there is only one Favre, even with his star slightly tarnished by a false-start retirement. If they believe he cannot play, they should have quietly admitted him back to the rosters and quietly released/traded him. Because if they don’t believe he can play, what harm does it do anybody but Favre himself and the Vikings if he goes to the Vikings? Certainly wouldn’t hurt Green Bay; in fact they’d have a prime opportunity for their players to show the old man that he should have stayed off the field. An ignominious end, certainly, but that risk should be left up to Favre to take.
Seems like management’s letting its pissiness at Favre’s desire to do something other than what they want to dictate its actions. They need to come down off the high horse and make a decision based on football, not their bruised egos.
I was out doing errands while they ran the Kentucky Derby. Little Bean and Daddyman were watching at home. The Bean once went several months racing us everywhere, calling himself Seattle Slew, me Affirmed, his father Secretariat. The two of them are interested in the horses and their names and what races they win. I was horrified when I called home and was told that the horse of The Bean’s choice, Eight Belles, had had “an accident” on the track and broken both ankles after coming in second. Me, anxiously: “What did they do for her?” Daddyman, conscious of The Bean’s listening ears close by: “Well, they pulled the horsey ambulance around to the track and … took care of it … right there.” The Bean knew nothing of what “took care of it” meant, even when the TV announcers used the word “euthanized.” Fortunately he didn’t think to ask about that long-tailed word’s meaning.
And I spent the rest of the day thinking there must be something wrong with horse racing, even if I personally don’t know exactly what it is, and that maybe people shouldn’t race horses like this.
Eight Belles was three-years old and 17 hands high. The average amateur, like me, wouldn’t even start jumping her until she was five because her bones haven’t finished developing. Am I smarter than the megabuck owners and trainers? I’d have to say “yes.” Just look at the outcome.
I got Lucy, my fat Thoroughbred who flunked out of racehorse training when she was two, on the New Year’s weekend when she turned three. I treated her like a baby. She was a baby and didn’t finish growing until she was past five. I didn’t start jumping her until she was five. This is considered common sense.
I don’t have much sympathy for animal rights groups, but I do have a lot of sympathy for animals and concern over their treatment at human hands. I’m
relieved to find that it’s not racing as a practice that is abusive, still a bit on the fence about whether racing as a practice is abusive, but relieved to find that what seems to cause these shocking deaths is not racing, but the racing of horses before their time. The destruction of these beautiful animals is terrible. Read Anne’s whole piece if you were shocked by the fate of Derby runner-up Eight Belles, and remember that human skull bones don’t fully fuse until we’re over twenty years old. Over twenty! Allowing the horses’ bones to set hard before they’re put through these paces is the least race owners, trainers, and jockeys can do.
But the mistakes can be hard–rock-hard. Or diamond-hard, as in baseball. [Link changed in October when original link broke.] The Cubs can’t do anything right even on their statuary.
Before the [Ernie] Banks statue went on display at Wrigley Monday, many people had inspected it, and they agreed: Mr. Cub, 7 feet and 300 pounds of bat-swinging bronze, looked great.
Cella, who works at the Fine Art Studio of Rotblatt-Amrany in Highwood, had scrutinized the things that mattered most to him as the sculptor.
How was the patina? Excellent. Was the inscription on the correct side of the granite base? Yes, it was. Right down there on Ernie’s left it said:
LETS PLAY TWO.
Katelyn Thrall, a Cubs representative, walked in, brusquely stuck out her hand and didn’t wait for me to explain.
“We’re going to fix it,” she said. “That’s all I can say.”
Fabulous. Will you also fix Harry Caray’s while you’re at it? You can just take his apostrophe off and give it to Banks.
H/t Banks article: J. I saw the Caray myself lo those years ago, last time I was at Wrigley.
Update: That was quick. You can tell there was no space for it to begin with, but we’ll take what we can get, which apparently does not include anybody noticing, commenting on, or fixing Harry Caray’s. H/t J again.
Billy Crystal takes BP with the Yankees in preparation for an exhibition game against the Pirates.
[BP pitcher] Martinez, prodded by Jeter, playfully tossed a pitch behind Crystal’s helmet during BP. Crystal was equal to the moment, walking toward the mound and pointing his bat.
Crystal ended the 90-minute session with his best swing of the afternoon. The righty lined what would’ve been a double down the left-field line, then lingered a few extra minutes talking with Triple-A hitting coach Butch Wynegar about mechanics.
“I was surprised. You could tell he’s been working at it,” Martinez said.
The Pirates’ manager doesn’t have a problem, but I like their pitcher’s remarks the best:
“It’s a no-win situation for me,” [lefty Paul Maholm] said, smiling. “I’m supposed to get the guy out. If he gets a hit off me, though, I might to have hang ’em up after the game.”
Little Brother, plus a grinding team of blitzers, stuffing it into Brady’s smug, arrogant face. Way to go, Giants, that was totally incredible. The Patriots didn’t even come close to giving it away, either. It was taken from them by force. Hard fought and well done, Giants. A lot more lovin’ for Eli is in order.
And then there’s Bill Belichick, leaving the field with one second left while his team lines up for the last futile play. What an ass. Tony Dungy would never dream of perpetrating such an act of disgust towards his own team, Bill, no matter how close they came to an undefeated season before having it snatched from them. Which is why he’s the better man. How ya like them apples?
Because, seriously, if your boy can’t keep his head just because his (ex-)girlfriend’s at the game, he doesn’t belong in the NFL.
…but if Eli and the Giants can manage to make Brady chew a little turf, I’ll be giving little brother some lovin’ on the side.
image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace