in the name of baseball and bobby higginson

my extensive research (read: google) (compiled for baseball love poems) led me to this gem:

"Hitting is all muscle memory," says Higginson . "Your mind absorbs things and transmits them to your muscles." He thinks he may have learned that in Psych 101. "It definitely wasn't in calculus," he says.

and another, from the same article:

"I'd rather throw out a guy at home than hit a home run," says Higginson , who has done that seven times in the last two seasons. "Nail a guy at the plate, and all the momentum swings to your side."

oh, higgy, where are you now? probably fat and balding and knocking up another stripper. becoming an anti-legend.

woot! / what i did last week

I was working on a story with Kyle, my boss at MIRS/softball coach, who just happens to rule. And write well. And rule.

Here's the article; "THOUGHTS from the MIND" are always welcome.

this is how you beat john mccain

(i only wish i could take credit for it)

from tim, the brilliant man about philly who really should be hired at the new york times or the inquirer. seriously.

remember the swiftboat smear? this is what john kerry should have done. now obama, and his ninny-pants handlers, need to buck up and say "that's a lie, stop lying, you old old crazy man."

this is point number one:

Give a speech specifically about McCain. Attack everything that voters think they know about him, every perceived strength. Begin by telling America, "If you think you're voting for John McCain who ran for President against George Bush in 2000, you're wrong." Detail every backtrack McCain has made, every position he's reversed himself on, every move he's made to cozy up with the Bush administration, the Republican-led congress, and the base of his party. Attribute it to a combination of ambition and delusion. Call him by his first name whenever possible.

click the pretty link above and read the rest yourself.

you won't regret it.

i stand corrected, saving is for the 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th innings

jim caple on the "closer", the overrated importance of said position, and how it is ruining baseball:

The save is the only situation in which a manager makes his decisions based on a statistic rather than what makes the most competitive sense for his team. The only comparable is when a manager stays with a struggling starter with a big lead so he can get through the fifth inning and qualify for a win, but this occurs rarely. Managers, however, routinely bring in their closers just because it is a "save situation" rather than a situation in which the opponent is truly threatening. It's ridiculous. Managers feel the need to please their closers -- and their closer's agents -- by getting them cheap saves to pad their stats and their bank accounts.

so, as an addendum to my "how to fix the tigers" plan: after you make the DH a speedy guy hitting sixth, you (as caple points out) bring your best pitcher in not in the 9th, but in the 7th.

who would that be for the tigers? rodney (i hate myself for saying this) performs better in the 7th or 8th innings. he pitched three great innings against the white sox, and might be detroit's best hope for a "long reliever". as in, the guy who can come in when the starter gets shelled. he also seems to improve the longer he's out there.

todd jones might also fare better in a less specialized role. it couldn't hurt his nervousness, sweating, ulcerificness. (yes, i just made up a new word.)

bobby seay is steady. he's built for middle innings. zumaya is best in the 8th, and can then pitch the 9th as well.

while i am guilty of loving the WWF-style theatrics of closers and entrance music, and a dominating 9th inning guy, i want the tigers back in the world series. and i want them to win it. the only way i can see that happening is if they change the rules--stop playing the way everyone else does. shut your opponents down in the 7th.

be the equivalent of boise state football a few years ago, or the red wings when scotty bowman first introduced the left-wing lock. jim leyland is a bit of a baseball historian--he can do this. right?

baseball love poems preview #3

SIX THINGS

for Tim, suggesting I make a list of ten things I truly believe

I believe in Bobby Higginson

the working class hero

my father who rises every morning

before it is morning

to hurl watt after watt like lightning bolts

from the open blisters of his palms.

I believe in being five

my father teaching me to throw

in the backyard/ our house on Crescent Avenue:

sidearm

hard

almost no arc on the ball

watched it tail

as a ten inch comet

to my father’s open mitt.

I believe in drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon

between innings

bruise like a lunar eclipse on one thigh

being knocked unconscious

waking with the ball still in my glove.

I believe in protecting the plate.

I believe in falling in love

with baseball players:

the way a man’s quadriceps change

when he is crouched behind the plate

the certain perfection of a

fundamentally sound swing

the feathery gradations infield dirt makes

on home jerseys;

the way a man watching a ball

orbit

into the upper deck of right field

arms stretched

bat as an arrow

seems ready

to impale the stars.

I believe in the light

created by a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball

Zumaya hurling pitches

that pass in a blur of seams

red giant:

flames flaring up one wrist.

baseball love poems preview #2

FOR THE FOXY REPUBLICAN WHO TELLS ME I HAVE A REAL HOMERUN SWING

I'm

not

trying

to score.

Just

connect.

baseball love poems preview

a few drafts in progress from the baseball love poems book, also in progress.

SWING AWAY

This pitch is high, but I don't like called third strikes. This pitch is high, but it will carry. This pitch is high and I know I need to swing

\

I will wait on it because I can wait anything out if I think I will win

and I think of Jim Leyland saying the sound of the ball coming off the bat of a great hitter is distinct and pure

I imagine like middle C on the piano

and I think of Mike Piazza saying broken bats are the most beautiful music he's known

and I think of a woman I knew and a man I loved and wonder what they're doing in my old bed at my old house

and I think of choking up but decide not to because I hate being told to choke up

and I think the third baseman is tall and lean like young Johnny Cash

and I think of the sweet spot and Sweet Lou and how the porta-johns on the Little League diamonds always smelled like giant Sweet Tarts

and I think of my friend who told me

The Tigers are the Tigers. But the game is real, Angela,

and the game is as beautiful as Lou Whitaker's right arm.

Find a bat that feels right, tap it twice against each cleat, and swing.

and I think of Bobby Higginson and wish I had a great beard or a mouthful of chewing gum or heavy metal music playing when I walked into the batter's box

and I think I still have to wait

and I think they're playing me shallow and I think I will burn them each in their red jerseys

and I think I hear the left fielder say she's gonna swing but I'm not hearing it right

\

I'm singing and I'm rounding first

and I'm singing and I'm standing on second with my hands on my hips and dirt across my cleats and

the only thing I can remember is the sound

of a tolling church bell and relief and Swing Low Sweet Chariot.

Batman is Catholic!

well, a friend writing over at the Counterfictionals blog seems to think so.

check it out here.

silver fox

i just have to say...i just saw this photo as part of the lead story on espn.com

why is brett farve so much more attractive when we can see his gray hair, beard, and smile?

great hair.

jim leyland, can you hear me?

yes, he can!

only a day after i posted about my fixes for the tigers, one big change has already come through.

from today's Detroit News:

Tigers name Zumaya closer

Tom Gage / The Detroit News

CHICAGO -- It might last one game, it could last longer and, who knows, if he pitches well it could be permanent but Joel Zumaya was moved to the closer's role for the Tigers' game Tuesday night against the White Sox.

"If we have a lead in the ninth inning, that's who will pitch," manager Jim Leyland said, after finding out that Zumaya's recurring arm discomfort is no longer an issue.

"He's fine."

***

i would have embedded the link, but i'm working on a mac, and i cannot make it cut and paste for me. so. technology 1, angela 0.

if Zumaya starts to rock the knee socks, i might pass out.

This is how you fix the Tigers

I say bench anyone who is hitting less than .250 with RISP.

Of the regular players, that means these guys will sit: Pudge Rodriguez, Brandon Inge, Gary Sheffield, and Marcus Thames. Also knocks out minor-major player Clete Thomas.

Pudge, having been traded, is no longer an issue. Inge has to be in the lineup as the everyday catcher, and that I am fine with. Hit him ninth and convert him to an NL-style hitter. Make him bunt. Bring back the drag bunt, try the softball-style slap-bunt, just make him get on base. In fact, this is the perfect time to teach him about plate patience. Essentially, I don't care what he does in the box, as long as it isn't striking out. I want him to be on base when Granderson comes up, and I want him to be prepared to run fast. Sheffield, either compete for a position, or retire. Leyland doesn't even have the option of throwing him into left at this point; that shoulder has had how many surgeries in the last five years? Marcus Thames should then be switched to the everyday DH. I am confident his BA with RISP will rise when he gets more at-bats, more consistently. If he isn't effective, send him out for some prospects.

Clete Thomas is a youngin' who should be competing with Matt Joyce for an everyday spot, say, left field. Thomas has an incredible amount of plate patience (two bases-loaded, two-out, two-strike walks in one game), and Joyce has power. Let them fight it out, and rotate them until you decide. Or, if Thames doesn't perform, try this: let Thomas become the everyday DH. Hit him sixth. Make him a scrappy guy who just gets on base. The DH shouldn't be pigeon-holed as an aging power guy with bad knees and shoulders. Mix it up a little bit. If Tony LaRussa can hit his pitchers eighth, why can't Leyland reimagine the role of the DH?

Here's what else you do: you reward Brandon Inge's loyalty (well, loyalty and the fact that Dombrowski couldn't trade him) by anointing him Leyland's guy. Tell him to own the effing team. Call the game with no signals from the bench. Be the Steve Yzerman, the quiet power. Hell, be the holy terror, but take control of this team. I don't see Ordonez or Guillen doing it; be the Wyatt Earp, Brandon.

Cut Fernando Rodney. Immediately. Tell Zumaya he'll be the closer in spring training provided he starts mixing his pitches. If Inge comes along as the catcher you don't shake off, Zumaya will continue to improve. Chalk Farnsworth up as the guy who unloaded Pudge's contract. Nothing more.

Don't bank on Dontrelle Willis coming back as a starter. Have him practice middle-relief in some bullpen sessions with Chuck Hernandez. If nothing else, it'll force him to think about what he's throwing and improving his pitch location if he does come back as a starter.

Why are we getting smacked around by teams like Minny and Tampa Bay? Easy. They scrap. TB had less hits than us in the second game but won. We had 11 hits and lost. Take a cue from Minny and drill the hell out of situational hitting in batting practice. If your batters are mentally lazy, tell them to stay home.

Most importantly, hire me as your bench coach. I'll swear and take smoke breaks with Leyland. I'll do it for 50K. I'll wear cleats in the dugout. I just won't chew tobacco.

mystery solved, scooby gang

the reason fernando rodney wasn't traded at the deadline...because we wouldn't have gotten anything for him anyway!

may as well cut him, and it looks like that blessed, most holy of days is FINALLY here.

praise Leyland. may he have the strength to do what is right and just.

pig number two, same story