Good grief, more baseball!

I saw “The Punisher” today, which was filmed in, and takes place in, Tampa. I don’t think I’m giving anything away here, since it was mentioned in several reviews I’ve read, but there’s a torture scene involving someone’s facial piercings and a pair of pliers. Perhaps it would have been more effective if the torture had instead involved attendance at a Devil Rays game.

I say that with love, of course, since the stars have aligned such that I will be in my hometown a mere three weekends from now, and I will be seeing the Devil Rays play the Rangers at Tropicana Field on Tuesday, May 11th. I guess technically, this counts as a new stadium for me, although I’ve seen both NHL hockey games and college basketball games there in its previous incarnations as the Florida Suncoast Dome and as the Thunderdome.

The answer you’ve been waiting for

Here’s the answer they gave on “Car Talk.” (Had to wait for it to be posted to the web site, since the show airs in L.A. while I’m at work on Saturday.) Levi is correct in the comments on the question (back on April 13) that this is a hard situation to plan for, and Luke is correct that they’d mention his pick-off move to first. If only we’d sent in the answer, perhaps we could have won a gift certificate for “Car Talk” merchandise.

RAY: The fact that his nickname was Lefty should help. Lefties have good pick-off moves. So imagine this: It’s the top of the ninth, and the game is tied. The opponents have a guy on first base and there are two outs. Lefty’s brought in. He doesn’t throw a single pitch. Instead he picks the guy off of first base.

Inning over. Did he throw a pitch?

TOM: No.

RAY: Bottom of the ninth, one of his teammates hits a home run, end of game, Lefty wins, gets his bonus, gets his thousand bucks, and the manager gets fired anyway.

Just when you had forgotten about the hockey robots

As is my habit, I watched my recording of last night’s “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” during the 5:00 P.M. hour today. Joe Buck was the third guest, promoting tonight’s Fox “‘Wonderfalls’ Memorial Friday Night Broadcast” of the Red Sox-Yankees game, and at one point, the topic turned to Fox’s new innovations for their baseball coverage this year.

Their discussion of one of the innovations led me to immediately start the TiVo recording the game, mainly because I wanted to see if it really existed, or if this was a bizarre example of Joe Buck’s deadpan sarcastic humor.

The innovation in question is Scooter the animated talking baseball, and he really does exist, much like the bubonic plague really does exist. Now, upon hearing about Scooter, Conan immediately did an impression of him, saying in a high voice, “Hey, kids, a slider moves from side to side!”

Since the game had already started, my TiVo recording only captured the third inning on, and I had to fast-forward all the way to the eighth inning, stopping only to admire Johnny Damon’s hair, before Scooter showed up. Now, first of all, referring to him as “animated” is an insult to actual animators, by which I mean that Fox just has him making one certain mouth movement over and over again while he’s supposedly talking; even the cheapest 10-frame-per-second cartoons never resorted to that sort of thing (in fact, the cheapest cartoon ever, “Clutch Cargo,” superimposed actual mouths on the drawings rather than have incorrect mouth movements).

And, as you might have guessed, Conan’s impression was almost perfect; the only fault was that it wasn’t long enough. Here is my transcript of the Scooter segment I saw: “What’s up, bros? This is Scooter. When Scooter really wants to scoot, it’s time for a little heat. The pitcher just rears back and throws me as hard as he can. Whoa! A good fastball comes so fast, a hitter has no time to react. Stee-rike!”

Anyone who thinks Tom Kenny should start limiting himself to HBO sketch comedy programs and maybe “Powerpuff Girls,” raise your hand. I thought so.

Original comments…

Levi: You must be making this up. Otherwise, there’s no hope in the universe. And I refuse to believe that.

Only trust the audience on questions about movies

Later that same episode…the second contestant, going for $64,000, is faced with the question “in 1947, who became the first African-American baseball player to play in the American League?”, and the choices Larry Doby, Satchel Paige, Dan Bankhead, and Jackie Robinson.

He says that he knows it’s not Jackie Robinson because the Dodgers are in the National League, but then makes the mistake of polling the audience. The poll results: 55% for Paige, 23% for Doby, 18% for Robinson, and 4% for Bankhead. Then he takes the 50/50, which leaves Paige and Doby, says “I should have trusted the audience instincts,” makes Paige his final answer, and leaves with $32,000.

If only it had been a question about Rob Dibble!

Obscure references to baseball players

On the November 28, 2000, episode of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” the four answer choices were “nib,” “tang,” “bail,” and “dibble” for the $125,000 question “what is the name of the unseen part of the knife blade that secures the blade to the handle,” and the following ensued:

Regis: Well, I drank some Tang once, if that helps. Somebody bailed me out, as a matter of fact. And I do dibble well.
Contestant: Rob Dibble — he was a pitcher with the Reds at one time.
Regis: There you go. Good reliever. (Although as Regis said it, it sounded more like “reliefer.”)

The contestant chose to quit, and left with $125,000. If only he had been able to think of Frank Tang-nana!

Original comments…

Levi: Is it the nib?

Jim: No, it’s the tang, hence my reference to Frank Ta(ng)nana, and not to, um, Nibbles.

A nib is the metal part you write with on a fountain pen; a bail is, among other things, the metal bar on a typewriter that holds the paper against the platen; and this is a dibble (used to make a big enough hole in the ground so that you can put in a bulb or a seedling).

Viral marketing

The Subservient Chicken will play baseball, if asked. But he doesn’t know how to steal home, and when asked to cork his bat, he just plays baseball.

Original comments…

Luke, hanger-on: I think the truth is that it’s actually a Subserviant Cub inside a Subserviant Chicken suit. It does not know how to “go to the World Series” or even “win,” but it does know how to “lose,” “make questionable trades” and “raise, then dash, hopes and dreams.”

Levi: Speaking of stealing home: I learned today that Jackie Robinson stole home 19 times in his career!

Why, oh why is there not more stealing home? It’s one of the greatest plays in sports. But I’ve never gotten to see it live.

Time to clone Jackie Robinson!

Jim: I saw someone steal home live in a minor-league game involving, if I recall correctly, the Lancaster Jethawks and the team that was then known as the Mudville Nine in an ill-conceived attempt to disguise the fact that they were from Stockton.

I’m sure it would have been slightly more impressive if it happened in a level higher than Class A, where the players are slightly more skilled.

"Things we should have thought of", or "Pat and Ron, Nor DNA Tap"

On the WGN Radio broadcast of today’s Cubs game, Pat Hughes thanked a listener for sending him and color man Ron Santo a book of palindromes. “Well be getting to that later on,” Pat said. I can’t think of a better gift for those two.

Now we get to see how Luke spells a weary groan in the comments.

Oh, and while we’re on the subject, here’s Ron Santo on the Opening Day weather (This is from memory, so it’s not exact): “I remember Opening Day back in 1997 was so cold I couldn’t feel my toes. Of course, I can’t feel my toes today, either.”

Original comments…

Luke, hanger-on: !OooooooooO!

Steve: “Florida Marlins 4, Chicago Cubs 2 Day Game Played on Tuesday, April 1, 1997 (D) at Pro Player Stadium”

That must have been a cold day in Miami…..

Luke: Heh. Clearly Levi is remembering this cold day and this humbling loss to the Marlins. Low of 24, gusts up to 31 mph! My first Opening Day, and I think the first time I met Jim.

Levi: How embarrassing. Luke and Steve are right. I had the wrong week. By the time we saw the Cubs for the first time that year, they were already something like 0-6.

Steve will remember attending this game with me two days later. I remember the heaping plate of futility that Alex Fernandez served the Cubs that day, but I was surprised to learn it was so cold. I guess when you go into a game expecting a no-hitter and you come very close to seeing one, you don’t notice that you don’t notice your feet.

Levi: Also, if you look at that box score, you’ll see that “third baseman” Bobby Bonilla had already committed three errors.

Jim: And from today’s L.A. Times: “On this day in 1997, the Chicago Cubs set the mark for the worst start in National League history, losing their 12th consecutive game, 4-0 to the Colorado Rockies, and breaking the record of 11 losses in a row by the 1884 Detroit Wolverines.”

Ah, yes, that was the trip to Chicago where I had some sort of 24-hour stomach flu and spent the first day on the floor of Stacey and Nikki’s dorm room (although if you’re going to have stomach flu, Stacey and Nikki’s dorm room is a pretty good place to have it). Perhaps I caught the virus from the Cubs as they were leaving Miami, flying over Florida a few days before I followed them up north.

The secondary purpose of that trip was to meet up with some game show fans I knew from the Internet, and I was supposed to go with them to another Cubs game that week that ended up being snowed out.

Bobby V.

Stacey pointed out that my suggestion back on April 7th that the Cardinals pretend, for an important at-bat, that Albert Pujols is So Taguchi resembles former New York Mets manager Bobby Valentine’s greatest moment. To recap: On June 9, 1999, In the 12th inning of a game against the Toronto Blue Jays, Bobby Valentine was ejected for arguing a catcher’s interference call. He went to the clubhouse–presumably after doing a bit of dirt kicking and enthusiastic swearing–but returned a few minutes later wearing a disguise. After a while, the announcers noticed the stranger lurking at the back of the dugout, and a few days later, the National League suspended Valentine for two games and fined him $5,000.

The difference between Valentine’s approach and the one I advocated for the Cardinals is instructive. When confronted by the league about the disguise, Valentine fessed up. He argued that he wasn’t really trying to fool anyone, and he swore–despite seemingly contradictory photographic evidence–that he wasn’t in the dugout. But he never denied that the man with the big nose, glasses, and mustache was him.

Denying photographic evidence is a start–in fact, it will be a necessary part of my plan–but it has to be accompanied by an all-out denial on all fronts. The only hope of avoiding a lengthy suspension for Pujols, Taguchi, LaRussa, and probably me, too, is a refusal to accept that any type of evidence proves that the player who we claim is Pujols is not actualy Pujols. It’s hard to believe, given Valentine’s reputation, but in this case what did him in was not being stubborn enough. I wonder what Ari Fleischer’s doing these days. Given some of the lines he peddled during the last couple of years, this would be child’s play.

I wonder if Bobby Valentine would put up that kind of defense if you accused him of manufacturing that strangely orange tan he sports these days?

Oh, and the Mets won, 4-3.