One of my personal favorite things about going to the ballpark is getting myself a hot dog. I enjoy hot dogs in general (never mind the horror stories we all hear about them), but something about the atmosphere of a Major League stadium makes them taste that much better.
I seem to be on a theme of nostalgia lately, but I suppose there is nothing wrong with that, especially when it comes to baseball. It’s also been awhile since I posted a song by The Baseball Project, so here’s to mending that oversight. Enjoy!
To a pitcher, a base hit is the perfect example of negative feedback.
Chicago pitcher Ed Walsh, Sr. no-hit the Red Sox, 5-0, on August 27, 1911 at Comiskey Park. Walsh was particularly known for his use of the spitball. According to Hall of Famer Sam Crawford: “Big Ed Walsh. Great big, strong, good-looking fellow. He threw a spitball. I think that ball disintegrated on the way to the plate, and the catcher put it back together again. I swear, when it went past the plate, it was just the spit went by.”
There is definitely a difference between watching a game on TV and listening to it on the radio that extends beyond the visual aspect of it. The auditory experience of catching a game via radio is incredibly rich, and in my opinion, seems to mimic actually being at the ballpark more than watching it on television does.
You see fans holding their radios here and over there,
Intently watching the game, yet listening with care.
Some think us strange that we bring our transistorized friend,
Then they sit too close, and try to listen in.
So many, many voices of baseball present and past,
A very select few can make you feel that home run blast.
The team in the booth at times is the best,
The fans can hope for along with the rest.
Some of these voices have now faded away,
Going, going, gone to their final play.
The restless nights they talked us to sleep,
Just waiting for someone to take one deep.
Harry was the greatest Cub there ever could be,
There will never be another like him at ol’ Wrigley.
Vin Scully still bleeds that Dodger blue,
While Scooter will always be a Yankee too.
Nuxhall and Brennaman are my favorite radio men,
They have been a duo since way back when.
I was a boy when I first heard that familiar winning call,
“This one belongs to the Reds” now has its own place in the Hall.
So the next time you search for the game on TV,
Turn the volume way down, grab a radio, and you will soon see.
The voices of the game do much more than that old screen,
They bring you the nation’s game in a fashion unseen.
Yours truly finally made it to Kauffman Stadium for a Royals game this year! My first of the season — yes, I’ve been slacking. Need to get back on that. A lady at work had tickets, but then realized she had another obligation, and was kind enough to pass them on.
Yesterday had been a challenging day at work, which gave me the perfect excuse to splurge on a dog and an overpriced beer.
The crowd was small, just over 25K, as it usually is at Kansas City baseball games — unless, of course, they make it into the playoffs. I had forgotten what a stress release being at the K always seems to be for me. Even though I am very much an introvert, sometimes being in a crowd can be nice. I think I like the opportunity to blend in and become relatively anonymous.
I enjoy some of the distractions that being at the stadium can present. The hot dog derby, for example, never fails to bring out my inner little kid. Relish won this round, but ketchup is still leading the standings — at least at Kauffman. Go ketchup!
I love being able to see I-70 from the stands:
And the fountain display at the K is always worth taking a look.
However, none of this beats the excitement of sticking around to watch Eric Hosmer blast a walk-off home run off Greg Holland. No, I didn’t get any pictures of the celebration that followed that event. I found that I was much too happy and excited to do anything other than grin like an idiot and cheer. I will say, though, that oftentimes when I go to Royals games, I feel like I rarely get to see a win. It sure was nice to feel like I brought them a little bit of luck for once.
I always tried to do the best. I knew I couldn’t always be the best, but I tried to be.
Happy Monday, happy eclipse day, and happy Spumoni Day. This seems all too appropriate.
On August 19, 1900, Milwaukee pitcher Rube Waddell pitched two complete games in both contests of a doubleheader against the Chicago White Sox. He threw 17 innings in the first game, then was coaxed (with a promise of a few days off to go fishing) by manager Connie Mack to pitch the nightcap, in which Waddell threw a five-inning one-hitter. Milwaukee won both games, 2-1 and 1-0.
Here’s a song that resonates with anyone who’s experienced any kind of loss. The lyrics speak of a ballpark, but the metaphor works on a number of levels.