Baby Drew: House Mom

Char:  Chris Young was literally just having an extended conversation with a bat in the dugout

Trinity:  um...okay

 Char:  he was! just talking to it  

Trinity:  lol!  

Char:  not to anyone else in the dugout with a bat in his hand, but talking to the bat It's Parra's bat  

Trinity:  giving it a pep talk?  

Char:  could be hes on the DL so he has to make his own fun  

Trinity:  so true

Char:  The Dbacks make me want to throw myself off a bridge  

Trinity:  oh. you think the dbacks make *you* want to throw yourself off a bridge? Today was the 100th anniversary of Fenway park game. Against the Yankees. The ANNIVERSARY of FENWAY. WE FUCKING LOST TO THE MOTHERFUCKING YANKEES  

Char:  at least losing to the Yankees is traditional?

 Trinity: IT WAS THE ANNIVERSARY OF FUCKING FENWAY FUCKING PARK!  

Char: :-(  

Trinity: god damn red sox  

Char: they miss Jacoby

Trinity: they're just stupid  

Char: and Bobby Valentie's running his mouth

 Trinity: lol. I miss Terry Francona

 Char: it was time to go especially considering that beer and friend chicken thing dbacks losing 7-0  

Trinity: lol, yeah aww

 Char: it's only the sixth  

Trinity: there's still time!  

Char: there's not a chance in hell we're scoring 8 runs  

Trinity: heehee

 Char: Stephen Drew made everybody T-shirts aww he's like the house mom

 Trinity: omg, that's so adorable  

Char: I wonder what else he brings from home?  

Trinity: freshly baked muffins, of course

 Char: Sandwiches with the crusts cut off  

Trinity: 8:45 pm chocolate chip cookies Char: I bet be brings water bottles with fresh slices of lemon in them  

Trinity: and scented candles for the clubhouse  

Char: He leaves notes in lockers. "You're appreciated!"  

Trinity: on post it notes! With little smiley face stickers  

Char: Yes! And he reminds everyone to put their uniforms where they belong to help the equipment managers  

Trinity: He makes signs in Print Shop to remind them not to spit on the clubhouse floor.  

Char: He always shares his sunflower seeds  

Trinity: of course. and you know he went to the paint your own pottery place and made everyone a personalized jar in which to spit the shells.  

Char: When he makes brownies, he never adds nuts because nobody likes brownies with nuts.  

Trinity: and someone might be allergic

 Char: you have to consider these things  

Trinity: you do! every Christmas he makes little gift bags for everyone and leaves them in the lockers before everyone else gets to the clubhouse. Homemade fudge and those slice and bake cookies with the christmas tree in the middle.  

Char: Chocolate chip cookie mix in mason jars. With a ribbon.  

Trinity: curled ribbon, naturally.

Char: But he respects Hanukkah too  

Trinity: and kwanzaa

Char: He explains how Sandra Lee's Kwanzaa cake was really insensitive  

Trinity: lol

Diamondbacks Roster: Some Assembly Required

Chris Young went on the disabled list today.

Justin Upton is day-to-day with a thumb injury that he had to have drained of fluid the other day.*

Geoff Blum was placed on the DL last night though the only thing wrong with him is a terrible case of being mostly useless when the team needs a roster spot. Or, if you’re the Diamondbacks, “an oblique strain.” Yeah. That’s convenient.

Called up from Triple A in this fiasco is one guy who’s been raking** and one guy currently passing kidney stones. Because I guess there wasn’t anyone else available. Maybe someone with both an inflamed appendix and a nasty case of gout. But they had to find somebody. I mean, do we really want to see Willie Bloomquist in left field everyday?

I didn’t think so.

Young was on a tear to open the season. I mean a hitting-.410-with-5-home runs-13-RBI kind of tear. When Matt Kemp looks in the mirror, he sees Chris Young behind him getting closer and ever more threatening. If Kemp had Mad Eye Moody’s Foe Glass, he’d be seeing the whites of Chris Young’s eyes.

Everybody else: not so much. Miggy’s doing that thing where he tries to hit lots of home runs and forgets that he has a very pretty and decidedly effective swing when he’s not trying so hard he nearly spins in a circle and falls over like the least graceful kid trying to hit a pinata.*** Ryan Roberts has no idea what’s going. Paul Goldschmidt can’t seem to get a regular start and I’m pretty sure it’s making him sad. Besides Joe Saunders , the starting pitching has just been kind of okay.

Losing the one guy currently striking fear into the hearts of our enemies hurts. Especially since he made a beauty of a catch. Really. It was the kind of thing you can use to feel superior when your friends say that baseball players are fat and aren’t capable of doing anything more than standing still in the outfield as the ball falls into their gravitational well. I’m at least partially convinced he’s some sort of a superhero now, with the the way he flew through the air like that.

It just ended badly. As soon as he collided with the wall, I stopped making meatballs+ and began wailing like an old Italian lady. “No, Chris. Oh no. This is bad. This is so bad.”

And it was bad. The trouble is that while we can afford to lose Upton for a few days while he works that thumb thing out, losing Young at the same time puts the team in a much worse position. It’s like chopping someone’s legs off and then telling them to go run the Boston Marathon: yeah, they could do it but it takes a long time to get used to prosthetics and you trip and fall down a lot.

If we’re going to make it through, the other boys will have to step up. The are the Never Say Die-mondbacks and this is the first time this season where their backs against the wall. We’ll see how it goes. Until then. we’ll hope CY doesn’t go the way of Jacoby Ellsbury.

*Ew
*In Reno, where the air is so thin any hard hit ball is at-risk of entering a low Earth orbit
***Boy, it took me a long time to get to that analogy, didn’t it?
+Delicious snacks! And so portable!

VORSing the BMGM on Opening Day

We could play Opening Day bingo. I could feed my text into the Baseball Metaphor Generating Machine (it works by adjusting Value Over Replacement Simile) and talk about hope springing eternal. But let’s skip it. Especially since hope isn’t springing. Hope has sprung.

There’s a definite feeling among the team and the fans that this is the Diamondbacks’ year. The front office has made it very clear that they’re in win now mode -- you can tell because that’s the only way to justify spending $7.5 million on Jason Kubel just after Gerrado Parra wins a Gold Glove in left field. The front office wants to go to the World Series. Kirk Gibson wants it, the players want it, and the fans want it. This is it.

Which is why I was walking through Chase Field nearly vibrating with excitement and proclaiming, “It’s all happening!” over and over to a friend. Opening Day wasn’t about hope for me but about the exciting arrival of a day you’ve been looking forward to for a very long time. It’s Christmas. It’s getting on the plane to Disneyland after months of counting down the days. Something very good has been coming our way and it’s finally here..

And it was good. I got the chills as fighter jets flew over Chase Field (is there a dramatic flyover corps in the Air Force because if that’s all they do, it’s a pretty sweet gig). I sat in the sun. I dripped ice cream down the front of my brand new customized jersey. And I watched the Diamondbacks win.

Tim Lincecum, making poor choices, said leading into Opening ay that the first series was important, that it would set a certain tone after the defending World Series champs not only lost the division to Arizona but the Dbacks clinched the division while playing the Giants at home at Chase.

Timmy thought the games would make a statement and they did. They stated that Arizona is in this thing, that predictions of the Giants to walk over the division on the strength of their pitching and the return of Buster Posey riding a unicorn sent by God on a mission to deliver the Giants with championships were premature. The Diamondbacks sent a resounding message that if anyone wants to take the division, they’re going to have to fight.

Because, let’s face it, the games weren’t great. I was at the park Friday and Saturday and watched most of Sunday’s on TV. In the words of Cher Horowitz, the series was a complete Monet: okay from far away but up close it’s a total mess. The pitching was only all right, good enough when it needed to be. Kennedy and Hudson were just okay, Collmenter had a complete meltdown that has almost everybody reaching for the panic button. But Wade Miley saved the day on Sunday by refusing to allow any more runs and the Diamondbacks, comeback kings of 2011 rallied from being down 6-0 to win 6-7.

And the Giants esteemed pitching looked shaky. Lincecum in particular struggled - even I pointed out his loss in velocity. Goldy still owns him too, a storyline I look forward to following with glee.

But the point is that even if they win dirty, this team is going to win. That they’re good enough to do it. That they refuse to be written off. And besides the sheer delight of handing smug Giants their first 0-3 start in decades, that’s what I’m taking away from the series.

I’ve already sprung.

It’s going to be a fantastic season.

Changes and Reflections

So. Some things have changed since the last time I was posting regularly here. Deepwater Horizon. Arab Spring. Occupy Wallstreet. I got a new laptop. Trinity and I took a trip to New York where we not only saw four Broadway shows in five days (we’re sports fans who like musicals because our interests are varied and complicated) but also saw the Diamondbacks play the Mets at Citi. I discovered CrossFit. My sister is about to get married.

Shit’s changed, y’all.

But even as life has gone on, what hasn’t changed is how I feel about baseball. I may not have been posting but I was still watching. I could never stop watching this game. I survived the 2010 bullpen - a bullpen so historically bad you have to go back decades to find anything worse. You could still recognize Diamondback fans from that year by the haunted look in their eyes. We went through some stuff.

I was watching in 2011, the year of the Never-Say-Die-mondbacks. I started the year hoping we wouldn’t come in last for a third year in a row and ended it listening on my phone while travelling in a shuttle bus between Tucson and Phoenix as the Diamondbacks took the Brewers into the tenth inning of game five of the NLDS and holding in my reactions lest my fellow passengers start wondering what’s with the crazy girl.

2011 was a gift. An unexpected ride from a team no one predicted to do much of anything and when it was over, I was grateful that I got to be a part of it, even in my own small way. Watching the boys scale the outfield fence to jump in the pool after clinching the West will remain one of my favorite moments from the year.

One of. Not top.

My top moment is game three of the NLDS. I was there.

The day didn’t start well. The 90-minute drive between Tucson and Phoenix took four hours thanks to a dust storm that completely shut down the highway and had me convinced I was a going to die. Seriously. I damn near called my mother to tell her I love. That was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. The landscape was alien when we could see it, as if we were travelling along the surface of the moon. There were times when visibility was reduced to zero. Driving down the freeway in a 15-passenger van in pitch blackness is something like going swimming with sharks while wearing Lady Gaga’s meat dress: terrifying on an absolutely primal level.



But I lived. And I made the game on time.

The seats were about 10 rows behind the Diamondbacks dugout. I went with my mother. I loved being able to explain who all the players were and why I love them. I loved explaining in-jokes and nicknames. I loved telling her that if she does nothing else, she had to boo when Prince Fielder came up to bat.

I loved chanting Goldschmidt’s name as the Brewers walked Miguel Montero to get to him. The bases were loaded, the crowd clamoring for magic. And it began. “Gold-SCHMIDT. Gold-SCHMIDT. Gold-SCHMIDT.” I was there when Paul Goldschmidt launched that baseball over the right field fence and became a legend.



The place became unglued. I’ve never heard a crowd yell like that. I was screaming, jumping up and down, I turned and hugged my mother because I was so happy, I felt like it was spewing out of me, like vampire sparkles in a Twilight movie. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and the ultimate gift on the ultimate unexpected season.

Life still goes on but I’ll remember that moment forever.

New Year's Resolved

Until I met Trinity in person, I had never met Trinity in person. Internet friendships are like that. Message boards. Instant messages. Millions of people bonding on thousands of different websites over hundreds of varied interests. Ours was a community writing project about characters in a Boston apartment complex. It was geeky, creative, and sociable - as sociable as any online project can be. My character was a baseball fan. Hers was a banker. They were friends and so were we.

I talked to a stranger over the internet (see Mom, it’s not so dangerous) the way I would any of my other friends. Her job. My college courses. Anything else that crossed our minds. Spent a year doing that.

Then the Red Sox and the Diamondbacks both made the post-season in 2007. I’d gotten used to checking the Boston box scores just to have something to write about. It taught me to think about the game but I wasn’t a fan. I didn’t care. But with the TV Writer’s Guild strike looming, I figured I might as well cheer for the local Arizona team than invest my time in television shows that were about to go on indefinite hiatus.

I cheered on the Diamondbacks, Trin cheered the Red Sox for the first time and we both fell in love with the game. Opening Day 2008 and we were both fanatics for teams as far from each other as we were.

In July of 2008, I met my best friend for the first time in baggage claim of Logan International. I’d never been so far east in my life and Trin was my guide. A former Boston resident, she showed me the city, how to ride the T, and indulged me when I spent 20 minutes in the Boston Common chasing a squirrel - desert people have a tendency to be surprised by things like that.

We folded ourselves into Fenway Park that trip, knees jammed against the seats in front of us. We ate hot dogs and sang Sweet Caroline and lost our minds when the Red Sox won on the strength of a grand slam over the Green Monster.

At the end of the week, I went home and she went home and we stayed friends. In 2009, Trinity visited me in Tucson and we made the 90 mile trip to Phoenix, pilgrims to the cathedrals of baseball to see Dan Haren rage at the Dodgers. It was the day of the infamous four-out inning and we had seats behind the dugout in the Sunday sunshine.

And then we went back to Tucson and she went home and the vacation ended. We still talked but not as much as we used to. Busy lives pull people in opposite directions and it’s hard to communicate online the way you do in person. Dating websites run ads of happy mostly white straight people but there’s no manual of how what to do when your best friend is on the internet. Nobody runs commercials for that.

It was a long time before the next meeting. Two years is a long time but when she made plans to visit New York City for Spring Break, I invited myself along. The long winter had left me depressed and lonely to a degree I’d never experienced. The trip was a way to break out of it.

We saw four Broadway shows in five days with only a one day gap between shows. That day we rode the subway from Harlem where we were staying to Brooklyn for shopping to Harlem to change clothes and then all the way to Queens to see the New York Mets play the Arizona Diamondbacks at Citi Field. If the trains gave out frequent flier miles, we would have raked them in.

The Dbacks lost but it didn’t matter. My father grew up in Brooklyn and the Mets were his team. I lost him to cancer when I was six but it gives me great pleasure and terrible heartache to know that we’d follow this sport together if he lived. That game was for my daddy.

The New York trip was just about eight months ago and tonight is New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow is 2012 and tonight is a night for resolutions. I’m spending it watching Moneyball because Opening Day is months away and I’m 60 pages from the end of the book. Which explains why I decided to put into words something Trin and I have been doing since 2008.

We’ve seen three baseball games in three different parks around the country. Why stop now? We’re going to see them all. Two women - two sports fans - paying tribute to the greatest game in the world and to what it means to be a friend.

Three down and 27 to go. I can think of worse things to spend the next 20 years of my life doing with my best friend.

Moneyball was right. It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball.

How can you not be romantic about baseball, indeed?

In under the Opening Day wire

I explained to my mother recently that all baseball fans are inherently religious. We spend 162 days a year in worship and then spend the 203 remaining days praying for summer - and that's assuming your team didn't make the playoffs. Now with glorious summer returning at last after what turned out to be a very wet winter out here in the desert - ruining a variety of perfectly good cliches; it would be much better if I could write about how the onslaught of summer cleared away the tumbleweeds of joyless winter or something not that's it's not going to be fucking hot this summer too - it's finally time to start looking to the season ahead.

(That sentence officially got away from me the way public support of ticket surchages for a Cubs stadium got away from the Mayor of Mesa.)

Going into my third year as a baseball fan, I feel much better prepared for the season this year. I feel like I have more of a handle on who the Diamondbacks are, what kind of team they are and how they play. We're familiar with each other now, the team and I. It's like getting to the point in a relationship where you don't have to pretend you wear sexy lingerie to bed anymore and can finally kick back in an old T-shirt you got for free in college for signing up for a credit card and a pair of pajama pants with a hole in the leg.

Here's what I feel like are the biggest issues going into the season.

(Feel free to disagree with me cause hey, what do I know? I've only been watching this sport two years now and also I'm a girl.)

1. Starting pitching.

Name a Diamondbacks starting pitcher. Okay, now name one who isn't Dan Haren.

Exactly.

A lot is riding on when and even whether Brandon Webb comes back. And like a slumlord who's been promised the check is in the mail, I'm skeptical. He hasn't pitched from the mound yet and the team's been quiet about his progress. What info out there is pretty general. Webby feels "good," Webby feels "stagnant," Webby feels "that it's going to rain on Thursday because of the way his trick knee is acting up." Basically, nobody knows what's going on with Brandon Webb, including, I'm beginning to believe, Brandon Webb. But it's true the team needs him, if only so he can get his trade value up before we let go of him at the deadline.

2. The bullpen.

Remember the eight inning last year? No, I don't mean the eighth inning of any particular game - I mean the eigth inning of every single last year. All 162 of them. The eighth inning is the reason I have to buy Tums in bulk (can you buy ant-acids in a 10 lb bucket? Anybody know?). Expecting your starter to throw a complete game every time he's on the mound to avoid giving up four runs in the eighth is an inefficient way to win a ball game. It also gets you on Dan Haren's shit list. And believe me, you don't want to be there. An improvement in this area will be needed if we want to have a shot to contend.

3. Offensive production.

Basically, this boils down to "be more better." Chris Young is coming off a horrible year and if he wants to keep his job, he'll need to start producing at even a modest level. It's also important Stephen Drew returns to the potential hinted at in 2008. This is very important to make feel better because while I talk about Baby Drew, I fear he's going to wind up like his brother: overpaid and under producing.

I know, that's pretty much every aspect of the game to be concerned about, right? But there are upsides. Conor Jackson is back from Valley Fever and if his numbers from winter ball and spring training are any indication, he should be back to form and getting on base like a machine. Missed you, Gravity! Justin Upton has nothing but supsides and if he can stay healthy this year, he's a superstar in the making with a contract that delays his inevitable pinstripes just a little bit longer. Mark Reynold looks to continue to be a leader both in the clubhouse and on the field, driving in runs like we pay him to do. If he maintains what he did last year the man is going to be a dirty dirty beast, and I love it.

In all, this year should turn out to be much much better that last and now that it's started, it's time to pray. Somebody pass the Tums.

That just happened

At one point during last night's Red Sox/Orioles game -

Wait. Can we really call it a game? More like a meltdown of the highest order. I mean, we went from spanking the Orioles to being on the wrong end of the biggest comeback in the franchise's history. Last night's game was epic, and not in a good way. And for once, nobody can blame Julio Lugo.

I'll bet he's relieved.

I certainly hope that after last night's dreadful performance, Tito sat the bullpen down and gave them what we in the education industry call a "Come to Jesus" meeting. You know, one of those ones where your teacher sits you down and goes "Look, you're great and all, but..." followed by a blessing out that could make the toughest of grown men cry (I do this a lot in my job; I'm pretty good at it). Because come on! There's no excuse for last night. Rain, schmain. Before the rain delay, we were 10-1. Then the bullpen happened. Let's take a look at the worst offenders:

Justin Masterson: 2IP, 5H, 5R
Hideki Okajima: 0.1IP, 5H, 4R

Seriously? Seriously!

In between those two embarrassing outings, Manny Delcarmen came on and managed not to screw anything up, but it didn't do any good. Then Takashi Saito tried to stop the hit parade, but only managed to make things worse.

Enter Jonathan Papelbon, intrepid closer. Even the Papelstare couldn't save this one. The Os managed to score two off him in the 8th, leaving the rest of us scratching our heads in bewilderment. What happened to the best bullpen in the AL? They gave up 10 runs over two innings. TWO. Which, you know, is a pretty impressive feat, just not one anyone wants to see. So this afternoon we turn to our ace, Baseball Boyfriend himself, Josh Beckett. No pressure there, Commander Kickass. He's 5-0 in games after losses this season, so there's hope. And that's what being a Red Sox fan is all about. Hope.

Last night felt kind of like being in Oz. Let's hope Beckett's able to take us back to Kansas.

How do you score a homebunt?

Char: Here, read what happened in the Dbacks game today, this'll get you going.
Char: E. Aybar reached on bunt single to pitcher, E. Aybar to second on pitcher D. Davis' throwing error, E. Aybar scored on right fielder J. Upton's throwing error.
Char: INSIDE THE PARK HOMERUN.
Trinity: Yay!!!
Char: By a guy who was BUNTING!
Trinity: Wait.
Char: No, this is bad.
Trinity: Oops
Trinity: Boooooooo.
Char: BUNTING!
Char: HE WAS BUNTING!
Trinity: lmao.
Trinity: Homebunt!
Char: ok, lol.
Char: I am so glad i wasn't watching'we lost, 2-1.
Char: BECAUSE OF A BUNT!
Char: HE SCORED ON A BUNT!
Trinity: Homebunt!
Char: Heee.
Char: You're not appeciating my pain!
Trinity: But it's funny!
Char: It is funny.
Char: Why couldn't it have happened to the Dodgers?
Trinity: Because the universe is conspiring against the Dbacks, duh.
Char: Well, we have added another body to the DL.
Char: People are dropping faster than pitchers in the WBC.
Trinity: lmao!
Char: Eric Byrnes fractured his hand.
Trinity: Boo Byrnes.

How not to throw a baseball

Okay. Let's see here.

Boston Red Sox starting rotation:
Josh Beckett: 7-3, 4.15 ERA. Off to a rocky start, but slowly returning to the Baseball Boyfriend I know and love.

Tim Wakefield: 9-3, 4.39 ERA. Has been pitching like a rock star lately - who saw that coming?

Brad Penny: 6-2, 4.94 ERA. Not too shabby for a middle-of-the-rotation guy. He does what he does.

Jon Lester: 5-6, 4.69 ERA. I've got faith he'll get better.

Daisuke Matsuzaka?


ETA: According to the ESPN Gamecast, Dice-K's ERA, over the course of four innings, has blossomed to an impressive 8.23. Someone remind me why we keep him around.

Goonies never say die*

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? You get two baseball teams who refuse to give in or give up. This week, the Diamondbacks spanked the Cubs two games and were sent home crying for their mamas in one. For those of you playing along at home, that means the Dbacks won their second series in a row.

Game one was another gem by Dan Haren. He began the night by giving up a leadoff homerun and ended the night with a three-hitter. His last hit of the night was also a solo homerun, ballooning his season ERA to 1.54 The other hit was by Ted Lilly, but you know Danny. He had quite enough of Cubbies on his basepaths and set the rest of the team back down.

Cubs pitcher Lilly - famous for slamming his glove down after giving up a homer to Chris Young in the 2007 playoffs - well, let's just say that while he didn't slam his glove, he did drop a few choice words after allowing Chris Snyder's first homerun of the year and after Dan Haren helped himself to an RBI double. And for the first time this year, the Diamondbacks really seemed to be having fun.

The Carlos Zambrano happened. He dominated on the mound. He hit a homerun. And I don't want to talk about it.

Yesterday though, yesterday Cubs pitchers couldn't find the strike zone with both hands and a map, while Doug Davis and the bullpen combined for the shut out. Hey! I just used the word bullpen and shutout in the same sentence! Awesome. The game was out of reach for the Cubs when their closer (in for the seventh inning to get some work) walked two, intentionally walked Chad Tracy to load the bases with one out, hoping Mark Reynolds would hit into a double play. Instead, Reynolds also walked. And so did Conor Jackson (Gravity would also have an RBI BB in the eighth). And then Justin Upton cleared the bases with a double.

Although the Diamondbacks still haven't been able to string together more than two wins in a row, they are up two series now for the first time. Best of all, the team is showing signs of life and it feels good to know that the season isn't dead on arrival. It's a great way for the team to hopefully gain some confidence going forward.

*Which Diamondbacks player is what Goonie?

Chris Snyder: Brand
Eric Byrnes: Steph
Conor Jackson: Mouth
Bob Melvin: Data
Stephen Drew: Andie
Tony Clark: Chunk
Justin Upton: Mikey

Lou Pinella: Mama Fratelli

Sound the trumpets

Trinity: Mike Lowell had SIX rbis today.
Char: Holy crap.
Trinity: Yeah.
Char: He was on FIRE.
Char: God, no wonder they won.
Trinity: LOL. And Tek his hit fourth homer of the season, and Ellsbury hit his first
Char: Yay!
Trinity: Yeah. All of a sudden, Tek is a stud who hits bombs. Who knew?
Char: Byrnes homered today too.
Trinity: Isn't this a sign of the apocalypse?
Char: No, Jon Rauch appearing in scoreless innings two games in a row is, so you better start counting horsemen
Trinity: LMAO.

You wouldn't like him when he's angry

So, you know the Hulk? Big green guy, you wouldn't like him when he's angry, etc.? Well, let's just say Edward Norton's got nothing on Dan Haren. The guy is seriously a second away from erupting off the mound, skin a bright Sedona red and his clothes tearing away, leaving him in only a ragged pair of baseball pants.

You wouldn't like Dan Haren when he's angry and the poor guy is definitely starting to get a little hot under the collar.

On a personal note, I've managed to fulfill twelve months of wanting by getting to see a Dan Haren start in person when Trinity and I made like Annie Savoy and worshipped at the church of baseball - see her awesome post about it. Watching him pitch in person is a delight. Not only did we get to see his unusual delivery - Haren pitches slowly, freezing in the top of his windup like Neo just before he dodges a bullet. I've described it before as Dan Haren pitches like he's standing undwerwater: languid and slow. No one that graceful should be so devasting. The man is a beast and I love it.

If he is a beast though, he's one that's about two seconds away from trampling you to death. You can see him seethe. The Dodgers invented a run - turns out if a runner fails to tag up, you have to protest before you leave the field in order for the runner to be called out. Essentially, the Dodgers scored on the fourth out. Damn Dodgers, of course they did. And afterwards Dan Haren was practically blowing steam from his ears. You could make a cup of tea just by setting a mug of water on top of the man's head. It was obvious he blamed himself for the situation, since he was the one who allowed the baserunners to begin with. He tore through the lineup after that and the Dodgers didn't score against him again.

In return, the Diamondbacks' offense gave him a measly one run of support - a season high actually, after the zero runs he recieved a few days before.

Getting the offense to score in games Haren starts has been like pulling teeth. You'd think the team didn't want to win and personally, I wouldn't be surprised to see Dan Haren taking extra batting practice, because clearly, he's going to have to do everything himself.

It was the same old problem again last night. Haren worked over the Giants, giving up only one lousy run. In return, Mad Scientis Melvin pulled him in the seventh for a pinch hitter after only 79 pitches. We were approaching the Hulk line. Haren walked immediately into the clubhouse while San Fransico made a pitching change of his own. He returned to the dugout, folding his arms over the railing at the top step and resting his chin on his hands to see Tony Clark fly out to left in his place. The team never did manage to score a run.

Dan Haren now has an ERA of 1.89, a WHIP of .789 and record of 0-3. At this rate, Dan Haren will become the first pitcher in history to win the Cy Young with a losing record.

The Diamondbacks better get him some runs, or he just might hurt somebody.

In baseball we trust

Easter Sunday. Most people spend it in their Sunday best, singing hymns and listening to a priest drone on about the miracle of Christ's resurrection (I'm Catholic and we're famous for monotonous preaching; excuse me if I'm a little biased here)... I remember being a little kid on Easter Sunday, going to Mass in my new Easter dress and stiff patent leather shoes, wearing itchy white tights and a hat that never wanted to stay on. It was all ridiculously uncomfortable and unbelievably boring, but that was how I spent all my Easter Sundays for many, many years. As I grew up, I ditched the hat and tights and sometimes even wore a nice pantsuit instead (gasp! Pants in church!), but for all these years it's basically been the same ritual, over and over.

Until this year. This year, I made a pilgrimage to Arizona, where my fearless partner-in-blogging Char and I spent Easter Sunday worshiping at the church of baseball. There were no hymns (unless you count Take Me Out To the Ballgame, which I do), no robotic priest, no resurrection - the Dbacks were down by two in the third on some silly obscure baseball rule and never managed to recover - but I did have a brand new hat and my baseball Sunday best, by which, of course, I mean an awesome Dbacks hat and a Conor Jackson t-shirt. Instead of communion, there were hot dogs and cheese fries. Instead of a sermon, there was announcing and cheering and lots of boos for Manny Ramirez. No worship music, just entrance music. And upon the altar? None other than Char's baseball boyfriend himself, Dan "Pirate Hair" Haren. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, really. Granted, Chase Field isn't a cathedral like, say, Fenway or Wrigley Field. In the world of baseball, Chase is more like one of those non-denominational mega-churches, the ones you drive by in town and go "really? That's a church? it's so...modern." Because really, what's more modern than a stadium with both a retractible roof and a pool in the outfield?

Going to Fenway is like going to Mass. You're a Sox fan, the guy next to you is a Sox fan, everyone around you is a Sox fan with the exception of the occasional out-of-town team fan who sits and looks awkward while everyone stands up for the last out - kind of like the few non-Catholics who get dragged to Mass by friends or spouses and look out of place sitting in the pew while everyone else gets up for Communion. That's Fenway. At Chase, though - again, it's a non-denominational mega-church. We had unbelievable seats - 12 rows behind the Dbacks dugout; we could see facial expressions and sweat and the ball as it crossed home plate. The people next to us were Dbacks fans, but the people in front of us? Dodgers fans. And they weren't the only ones, either. There was quite a bit of Dodger blue in the stands, something you'd never see at Fenway. In a way, though, it was a lot more comfortable. Chase is the kind of place where you go to see your favorite team play, be they the home team or the visiting team, and either way you have a great time because you got to see your boys on the field. It doesn't have the intensity of Fenway, where the seats are stuffed full of rabid Sox fans who want their team to win so much that every moment seems to be do or die. Chase was a lot more relaxed; all you have to do is kick back (literally; I was able to put my feet up on the seat in front of me and it was awesome), relax, and watch some baseball. Nobody really cares what team you're cheering for, because it's not about that so much as it is just enjoying a day at the ballpark. Sit in the sunshine, eat a hot dog, stare at Conor Jackson's ass when he's up to bat...good times.

Last year's trip to Fenway was like going to Mass at the Vatican. I'm glad I did it, but I don't know if I'd do it again. Going to Chase felt more like going to this Unitarian church I went to once - nobody really cared what you wore or how you expressed yourself; it was enough just to come together to worship - at the altar of baseball, that is.

PS: Thus lending further credibility to the theory that Josh Beckett and Dan Haren are really the same person, the Red Sox lost on Easter Sunday with Beckett on the mound. I'm just sayin'.

So. That happened.

The first series of the year is completed - an interesting feeling after the long offseason, as if your psyche has to relearn how to handle the ups and downs of rooting for a proffessional sports team. For instance, if you told me that opening day would have Brandon Webb getting knocked around for six runs in a slugfest and that the next day Dan Haren would throw a three-hitter, one-run effort and still lose, I'd laugh in your face.

The Diamondbacks did lose the series though, in all the old familiar ways. The offense sputtered and then collapsed on the field, gasping choking for one last breath of life. Jon Rauch happened. New season means new hope but it felt like watching the same team that came apart down the stretch last September.

But all is not lost! (I mean, it's only been three games for crying-out-loud). Dan Haren is a beast, who continues to prove Trinity's theory that the only difference between him and Josh Beckett is some facial hair and half-a-dozen hemp necklaces. Sweet Jesus, I love this man. Trinity and I are taking a pilgrimedge to Chase Field Easter Sunday to watch Haren take on the Dodgers.

Also promising: Felipe Lopez. He had two homeruns on Mon and made a great play yesterday. I like you, Felipe Lopez.

I have other things to post about sometime, like why I can never remember what Baby Drew looks like and how Conor Jackson is totally the type to get drunk and go walk around the 99 Cent Store, but those are other thoughts for another time. Right now let's make like Barack Obama and reflect that hope springs eternal. Example: I eternally hope we beat the Dodgers.

Winter's end

Ladies and gentleman, our long nightmare is over. At last, the icy grip of winter has melted away, bathing us in spring greens and pinks and golds. Baseball season is finally here and summer's just over the horizon.

For most of us. It's a bad day to be a footwear related sports team: both the Red Sox and White Sox openers have been postponed due to weather.

Whatever. Here in sunny Arizona it's 75 degrees and time to play ball. Brandon Webb takes the hill this afternoon in the Diamondbacks' first opener at home since 2005.

The heartbreak of last season is replaced with 162 games of hope and most experts predict the Diamondbacks and Dodgers to be fighting for the division until the fall. If the Dbacks want to take it all, here's what needs to happen:

• We need Eric Byrnes back at full-health and, more importantly, full-speed. He may be an overpaid fourth outfielder, but Byrnes always plays to win. We need him hitting strong and tearing up the basepaths.
• We need to cut back on Vitamin K. It's no secret the Diamondbacks were plagued by strikeouts. Mark Reynolds seems to approach every at bat like he's going to knock in a five-run homer. He led the league in Ks and that's not the kind of thing you want to repeat. Time to start working the productive at bats and get on base. Sometimes, lacing a double into the corners is better than going yard. Stop looking for home runs and start making contact.
• We need the bullpen to improve. I'm tired of feeling like I'm going to throw up every time Jon Rauch comes into a game. A girl can only take so many antacids and watching the game while trying to cover my eyes isn't any fun. Get better. We've got the best 1-2 punch in the league, let's continue what they've started.
• We need to break out. With the exception of Baby Drew, the rest of the starters were always this close to getting to the next level. Waiting time is over and I know this squad's got the skills. Time for not only Justin Upton (why don't we call him Baby Upton?) but Chris Young as well to...step up to the plate as it were. I love these boys and I want to see them play to their full potential. This also goes for Gravity and Balls of Steel Snyder.
• We need the management to be smart. I know they like to call Bob Melvin the Mad Scientist but can we downgrade the wackiness? Maybe he can be something a little less out there, like the Eccentric Tinkerer or something. Melvin, I don't want to start tearing at my hair and yelling "what are you doing?!" when you do something crazy. At least we finally sent Chris Burke packing, so that's one affectation I don't have to worry about anymore.

So there it is.

Oh, and one more thing.

Go Dbacks!

The Shooting Gallery

Trinity and I have been following the WBC - well, more myself than Trinity since the poor thing temporarily lost access to the MLB Network (tell me, how did we survive before this channel? I'm a devout viewer; if my roommate comes home to find me watching it one more time, she may just kill me). It's been a lot of fun - and a great way to watch some baseball while we're still in the offseason. The highlight was watching the Netherlands. Cheering for the underdog is an American tradition and I was all for the Dutch, who defeated the Domincan Republic twice. Watching the Dutch play was intense - no matter how much trouble they got in, the bottom just refused to drop out; you keep waiting for their inevitable crushing to happen only it never does. Eventually though, the fighting Netherlands were eliminated by whichever members of Team USA still have full use of their limbs.

To say that the Americans have struggled with injuries is like saying Brad Pitt is only mildly good looking. Seems like everyday another one bites the dust. Last night, the only bench player they had left was the backup catcher. I expect to get a phone call recruiting volunteers to join the team any day now. The tough part is that injuries risk players being ready to start the season and make it harder for managers to support sending their guys to the tournament in the future. It's a shame - the WBC's been fun and it's great to see so many players from different teams interacting. If the tournament is to survive, Americans need and deserve to see their best players on what should be the world's grandest stage.

Fouk Yu!

Trinity here. You know what I find fascinating about baseball players? The facial hair. I'm not normally a facial hair kind of person, but watching ballplayers with their ever-changing beard holds some kind of strange sway over me. I don't know what it is. You can tell a lot about a player by his facial hair, though. Take, for instance, wee Dustin Pedroia (who, incidentally, is in these awesome commercials for MLB '09 The Show). You know how you can tell that Dusty's having a hitting streak? He stops shaving. The further up his cheeks the stubble goes, the longer he's gone without an out. And then there's Dan "Pirate Hair" Haren, who seemingly doesn't shave unless he loses. As good as he is, that usually results in a mountain man look - complete with neck beard - that makes you wonder sometimes if he's going to start showing up on the mound in a flannel shirt and work boots.

*sings* He's a lumberjack and he's okay; he pitches all night and he works all day...

While we're on the subject of facial hair, I should mention that Josh Beckett and his soul patch are having a decent spring training so far. But the real focus here is poor Kevin Youkilis. Youk...well, he's not doing so well, and not only is his ego taking a beating this spring, but so's his chin. I present to you...

The Incredible Shrinking Goatee! (Or the Incredible Expanding Chin, whichever you prefer)

This is Youk last year. Good year for the Greek God of Walks:

Notice the multitude of chin hairs. Clearly, this is a happy Kevin Youkilis.

Next we have Youk at the start of spring training:

New season, new look. He dubbed this the "Youk-Fu." Clever.

And then this happened. Says Joe McDonald of The Providence Journal:

"Something was bothering Red Sox first baseman Kevin Youkilis Saturday morning.
His walked at a serious pace into the clubhouse after leaving the batting cage, threw his bat into his locker and yelled a couple of curse words before storming off to the back room.
He emerged a little while later without his signature goatee."

Oh, Youk-Fu. We hardly knew ye. So what happens the next time Youk has a bad day? No more eyebrows? That's pretty much the only hair left on his head.

In other news, does anyone have 8.5 million dollars I could borrow? Manny Ramirez is selling his Boston condo and apparently my Baseball Boyfriend is his neighbor. This is the perfect opportunity for Beckett to discover that I exist! Just have to scrape up a huge wad of cash...

I'll get right on that.

This where you get tickets to the bandwagon? One please.

It's slightly unusual to be posting on a baseball blog when the state of Arizona is currently football crazy (I don't know if you've heard, but the Cardinals are in the Super Bowl), but there's been a lot of talk about bandwagoning recently because of it. You know what I say to accusations people only like the Cardinals because they're winning?

So what? That's what I say. So what?

By that definition, I am a bandwagon jumper. Yeah, you heard me. I'm a bandwagon fan. Definition of one, actually. My foray into true baseball fandom began during the 2007 postseason when the Diamondbacks went to the NLCS and the Red Sox won the whole shebang.

In the 2008 season, I watched all but a handful of the Diamonbacks' games on television, saw three games in person at Chase Field and flew across the country to see the Red Sox at Fenway.

So what's so wrong with the bandwagon? The 2007 postseason put the taste of the sport in my mouth, reminded me how it felt to cheer for something. It flipped a switch.

I love the game of baseball. I love it just as much as I would if I'd been following it my whole life. This is my sport so thank goodness for the bandwagon.

If a succesful team brings people to the sport, then I approve. Some of them may discover a passion. Some of them may just remember how it feels to root for a team and they'll look back on that team fondly. Happy memories are never bad, no matter how genuine some people feel they are. People will remember this Cardinals team well and maybe they'll remember sport in general as well. Maybe if they have free time, they'll swing by Chase and catch a Diamondbacks game or check the Cardinals score in the newspaper next year. Anytime a local sports teams win, it's good for all the others, it's good for improving the reputation of Phoenix as a sports town.

I'll never follow football like I follow baseball, but I hope like hell the Cards win. It's never wrong to have a reason to celebrate.

Okay, now that sanctimonius preaching is over, there is baseball on the horizon. Got the Dbacks Hometown Tour and FanFest coming up and Spring Training is on the way. I'm hoping to post some kind of retrospective/preview in the next few weeks.

Rumours of our death have been greatly exaggerated.

Winter Meetings

There are rumors swirling about a possible Eric Byrnes/Julio Lugo trade. I don't know how to feel about this. First, a collision of my two favorite baseball teams is just weird. Second, do we want Mr. E6, himself? I have no problem getting rid of Eric Byrnes. The fanbase will miss him, but I wasn't watching the team when Byrnesie had his 'career year.' In my opinion, we're paying him $10 million a year to strike out/pop up to the infield. I also wonder how much of his season-ending injury was caused by him pushing himself too hard and refusing to admit there was a problem.

In the end, this will all probably boil down to rumor. Byrnes has a no-trade clause so they can't send him anywhere without his approval, though playing for a major-market team may be attractive (I wonder how long it will take them to start saying he's Byrnesie being Byrnesie and if NESN will give him a TV show?). Another snag: the Dbacks reportedly signed infielder Felipe Lopez to a one-year contract, clearly to fill the hole at second base. This leaves little room for Mr. E6 Lugo, since he's for damn sure not about to replace to Stephen Drew at short.

The only remaining possibility for a Red Sox trade is to throw a catcher into the mix. The Sox are in the market with one and now that we've got a spare now that we snatched up catcher James Skeleton off the rule 5 draft (I think I might start calling him Jolly Rodger - he's super thin, so Skeleton is appropriate and skeletons make me think of pirates). If a catcher does go, I'm hoping it'll be Miguel Montero (sorry Miggy). I love Chris Snyder with every fiber of my being, he's got a great bat and calls an excellent game. Personally, I think the Dbacks have a brighter future with Snyder behind the plate. Not only that but the guy will literally bust his balls for the team.

Oh, and people need to stop talking about Conor Jackson as trade bait right now. That shit ain't funny.

Chicks and Sticks love the Discovery Channel

I love the foul lines
I love the Cubbies
I love the outfield
I love Chase Utley
I love the playoffs
And all their mystery

Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
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I love the Red Sox
I love World Series rings
I love Beckett's fastball
I love Pedroia's swings
I love October baseball
And its intensity

Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
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I love the strikeout
I love the double play
I love the grand slam
I love the Devil Rays
I love the game we play
And all its majesty

Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda

I love stolen bases
I love to watch C.C.
I love the long ball
I love to hate Manny
I love the playoff season
And all the fun it brings

Boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda
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