There used to be a baseball announcer named Richie Ashburn (Google him, Youtube him, do what you gotta do). If you were ever fortunate enough to listen to him you'll know why we dislike Tim McCarver.
To properly illustrate the overall point of great players doing their everything to help their respective teams win a game, I give you "Exhibit 1-A," in St. Louis second baseman, Matt Carpenter.
I have met more and more Latino fans that tell me that they don't particularly have a "favorite" baseball team. They might care to watch more of their home team games simply because of their location and a particular player, or players.
"Adam Wainwright acted like Hulk Hogan after he won Game 5 against the Pirates, so he shouldn't be saying anything about Mickey Mouse stuff." That's what former All-Star reliever and 4-time World Series champion Jeff Nelson told me.
I love baseball. I almost wrote I still love baseball, but that's unnatural. That comes from a discussion I heard on sports radio this spring. The announcers were all giddy with anticipation, save the 20-something NBA reporter. He claimed most of his generation remained unbitten by the baseball bug, only interested in the NBA and NFL. I was first stunned, then saddened.
Watching the sport, whether on television or in person, provides a cathartic release like none other.
For a group of fans who pride themselves on rooting for a team allegedly steeped in class. These tweets simply can't be ignored.
No matter who wins this year's MVP, the view from the Trout Farm was fantastic. And... we got a Mike Trout T-shirt! Those of us that had the pleasure of watching Mike's phenomenal season from section 101 in 2013 are already anticipating the enjoyment of watching him play in 2014.
Beltran's post-season credentials are a product of his strong play, but also of the era in which he played. When baseball moved to the expanded playoff system following the 1993 season, it pro-actively sought to change how its past is viewed.
This team could get bumped in the first round. Oakland came to town a few weeks ago and pushed us around like we were the Marlins -- perhaps a bad analogy given the no-hitter they tossed against our b-team Sunday.
September 21, 2008. A gorgeous summery day in the Bronx. Sunshine, and scattered harmless clouds in the sky. The bat, its white-taped hilt towering above the rubble and fencing around its base.
With eight teams still left in the playoffs, baseball's biggest post-season battle, the one between platitude and tautologies, can begin.
There is no amount of money, fines, settlements or payments that is commensurate with the hardship that the arrogance, unethical and fast dealing behaviors of banks and their leaders have caused.
As much as showing me a father's quiet love, my dad taught me life lessons by using the history and proper practices of baseball as his guide. He had been a ball player as a kid, and a lifelong student of the game. Perhaps because we listened to so many "foreign" broadcasts, my dad hated "homers" -- that is, play-by-play announcers who would ignore the facts and shade their analyses so they could curry cheap favor with the hometown radio audience. (Hey, wait a minute! That is exactly what is happening in Washington, not only in Congress but everywhere else in the city!) He told me that the worst thing you could be when you were at bat was a "rabbit ears" -- that is, someone who got upset and distracted by the cheap taunts from the dugout of the other team. (The Congress is full of those kinds of people.)
If you're sports-challenged like I am, I hope this info will help you get in on the conversation when the big games arrive.
There are dozens of year-end films that no one has seen yet, but Oscar pundits have been calculating different movies' odds since January.