JSngry

This, however, this is the kind of thing that really drives you nuts: http://www.brooksbaseball.net/pfxVB/szoneCDB.php?pitchSel=all&game=gid_2011_06_15_texmlb_nyamlb_1/&innings=yyyyyyyyy&s_type=3&sp_type=1&h_size=700&v_size=500&reParsed=0&extraStr=|06/15/2011|Texas%20Rangers%20@%20New%20York%20Yankees If I understand how to read this thing,, green = balls, red = strikes. Rangers pitcher had 11 pitches called balls (green triangles) that were either within or on the fringe of the strike zone. Rangers pitchers also had, it looks like, six pitches calla strikes that were outside of the strike zone. Yankees' pitchers. otoh, had only two pitches called balls that were in the strike zone, and four pitches that were called strikes that were outside the strike zone. This umpire clearly was squeezing the zone down, up, and out (probably just for right-handed hitters), and of course, it is the duty of players to adjust to what the ump is calling, but look at the bottom of that zone. Clearly there was some inconsistency there, I one of those called balls, I'm pretty sure was Strike 3, Out Three in the Yankee 5th, the "extra" strike that resulted in the "extra" out, that resulted in two runs. That's what pitchers have to deal with, a strike zone that the umpire keeps adjusting, and when you get a strike down earlier in the game and now it's a ball, well, you gotta bring it up just a little, just a little to now it's much more hittable. Veteran hitters and veteran pitcher get these breaks. some say that the Yankees get a more favorable call at home, but I find that hard to be true, at least on a consitent basis. Howver, when you see men in socring position and what looks like to be a no-brainer strike three get called a ball, you gotta wonder what the game being played really is. Of couse, the ultimate responsibility lies with Holland, he's got to find that place inside him that will deliver that pitch to that batter that gets the out no matter what. At some point, I suspect, you don't really know what is going to be what anymore and just make your "best pitch", which usually ends up being hittable heat, and..there you go. I've been looking at these charts on and off since the beginning of the season, and most of the time, almost all the time, there's a few errors but nothing really egregious. But this one here, this one just looks bad, and although I'll not say that bad umpiring made Derek Holland pitch badly, I will say that it might have pushed him to deliver a little fatter stuff in tight counts than he ordinarily would. Chalk it up as yet another "learning experience", but geez, sure this is not the best umpiring the game can get, is it? I hear rumples along the same lines from other cities as well. How are things in your town?

Inconsistent pitching drives me crazy while the game's going on. Not getting strike three. Not getting outs one or three. Just getting payed like a punk. MAkes my already high blood pressure go even higher. When I calm down and look at what was expected from this rotation at the beginning of the year & then what they've done often enough to this point, and then remind myself that these are mostly still kids w/o a whole lot of real starting experience under their belts yet, and that every start, good or bad, is a learning experience, well, that makes it better. Better but not ok. And getting for all intents and purposes raped by the most-hated team in my baseball world (at this juncture in our history) is truly maddening. I'm judging this years's Rangers starters like they're this year's Phillies starters, which is really not fair to anybody, especially my sanity, but...you see glimpses from these guys, all of them, and then they put together a nice little run for a week or two like they've done, and then, when it cools off, it's kinda hard to swallow that these guys AREN'T the Phillies starting 4 of seasoned battled-savvy vets, these are some kids trying to grow into the role becuase they have to, they're all we've got. The potential for success is immense, or so it seems at times,, but so is the potential for abject ruinous failure it seems at times (like since last Friday). And when the offense fails (and it did fail tonight,too many LOB, even with Nova looking pretty damn good when eh needed to)... This is not a team with a "proven track record", a "great tradition" to instill in its players. Their is no "Ranger Way", at least not yet.. At least not one to encourage. This is a team that is pretty much inventing itself as it goes along, and when they stumble, there's no proof that they'll get back up and get back on. Last year is over. What happened last year may or may not happen again this year (not the series, though, that's gonna be Phiily & Boston, barring divine intervention), but even if it does happen, even if the team springs to life and plays consistently well, it's not going to happen like it did last year. The worst mistake they can make, and I swear I see some signs of it here and there, is thinking that hey, we'll be ok, we just need to "stay the course" (ugh) and everything will be ok. No, it won't. Last year was last year, this year is this year. ADJUST, BITCHES! Hope, I have plenty of, fragile though it may be. Patience, I'm working on it. But love for these guys? Plenty of it. Plenty of it.

Nice to see this back up...over the years I've grown quite fond of Point Of No Return, the last collaboration with Axel Stordahl. Very gentle, very kind, and Stordahl's charts are so much meatier and juicer, imo, than the ones he did for Sinatra in the 40s. "Glowing" is the word that comes to mind.

I would like to hear that story. me too! Ok... This story was told to me by Chick Ramirez, one of those guys who started playing "rock and roll" in the mid-1950s when it was still called "rhythm and blues" The story takes place around 1963-65, and involves a rock and roll show band that Chick, his brother, a few other guys, and a sax player named Joe Vendemia had that was tearing it up in the DFW area. I can not do justice to the telling of it by Chick, but here are the rough details. They all decided to go out to LA to see if they could catch a break, drove out the entire way, stopping along to sit in and make waves, calling ahead to LA every time they did with a report and the sound of the crowd going wild. By the time they got to LA, a few people were curious and wanted to hear them, so a showcase was set up at the Whiskey, which they nailed. Some lady (Chick can't remember her name) signed the band on the spot to a "personal services contract" and immediately started hustling TV spots, movie dates, etc. They were IN. They were also living at the lady's house, first class everything at their disposal, convinced, perhaps rightly so, that they had found the right person at the right time in the right place. Opportunities were pouring in, rehearsals were ongoing, the show was getting supper tight, they looked fantastic, sounded even better, and the chicks were going wild for Joe Vendemia. And then Joe Vendemia wanted to go back home for a weekend to see his girlfriend. Ok ok,we understand, be back Monday though, we got an audition that afternoon. Ok, yeah, I'll be back Sunday night, promise. The only thing that came Sunday night was a phone call from Joe Vendemia saying that he was staying in Dallas to get married. No amount of begging, pleading, or threatening by the band would change his mind. Monday morning came, and the patron arrived to see a final run through before the audition. Where's Joe? Well, uh,,,Joe decided not to come back, but uh, don't worry, we got somebody just as good, maybe a little better, we just need to make him an offer and... Offer? There is no offer. The band I saw is the band I signed. The band I signed had Joe Ventemia. No Joe, no deal. Now where is Joe? Uh...Joe won't be back. Well then, I guess we won't be needing this. Out comes the contract, and up ripped gets the contract. And out walks the lady. When the band returned to the lady's house, their goods were all being packed rapidly and without a great deal of caution. The lady was not to be found, but their vehicles were, along with firm instructions to leave within the hour. A little money to get home on? Nope. By 1 PM, they were on the road. Well, the fellows went back like they came in, stopping here and there to sit in, only this time, whatever tips they could scrounge were put in the gas tank, with what ever remained used to buy some kind of food. Somewhere in Nevada, they came upon a club where Timi Yuro was playing. They stopped, went in, and tried to talk to somebody to set up another sit in. Instead of meeting the manager, they were excorted back to Ms. Yuro's dressing room, where she screaming at her band, clad only in bra and panties, "built like a brick shit-house" (Chick was very adamant about this.) Turns out the bandleader was a drunk who had been stealing money from Timi and splitting it with the band. So...she looks at our boys when they walk in and says "what the hell do you want?" Well, we're a band and we were wondering if...Do you know my songs?...yeah, we're fans, we know your songs...Get on the fucking stage and be ready in 15 minutes. $100 for all of you, cash, one set only. Then the manager was called in, the old bandleader was dispatched to locations unknown, and somebody went to work finding a band for the show after this one. Our boys played the set, took the $100, tried - and failed - to get back in Ms. Yuro's dressing room for either another set or another look at her in her undies, and finally left. They all made it home.. Most of the guys still play, the ones who are alive still, none extremely well in a contemporary "professional" sense, but none better than Chick whose skills are limited but whose groove is not, especially on a shuffle, at which he is, by now, a genuine master. Chick will tell you the Joe Ventemia story if you ask him, and he never tells it without his voice trailing off at the end for a few seconds before he snaps to with a "and THAT was my shot at the big time". Joe Ventemia, who I have met in passing more than once, did not continue to play, but did get married, and to the best of my knowledge remains happily so. He and Chick appear to be on good terms, but that story still gets told after he leaves. And Timi Yuro is always built like a brick shit-house when it is. Always.

Eat it, I'd hope. But not alive. That's how disease gets spread.

A bullshit strike zone gives the Yankees Strike 4 and of course the get 2 runs as a result, but that's no excuse. The Rangers had ample opportunities to get runner in and failed, Derek Holland had multiple chances to hold a lead and didn't. You gotta carpe diem, mf-ers. Mark Lowe in, I'm out. This team needs to toughen up, and in a hurry.

"End result" and "objective" are subtly different things, maybe...??? Maybe has more to do with "process" than "goal"? I will tell you this, though - Cuban's open arrogance did create an atmosphere of whiny "entitlement" in some of his teams that had them looking for excuses instead of heart. You want to hope that he's matured, but I'm still wary of him...

Cobbler! Like pie, only better!

I've read vague comments over the years that Mingus & Rollins had bruised feeling towards each other. Have never heard specifics though...wonder if this has something to do with it?

Fine album. McCann is in very good voice, song selection is tasty, and this was Wilson's prime. Recommended!

Of course. All "major media" is part of the marketing machine, sports media even more so. That's not intrinsically/necessarily "bad" or anything, but commercial media by definition must feed consumerism in order to survive. And for the record, I have no problem "celebrating" either Jeter or Clemente, two great athletes with great accomplishments to their credit. I do, however, find the image of a "club" with Clemente as "greeter" to be cheaply sentimental, however, and feel that both men can and should be honored without the "violins".

Yeah, I distinctly remember reading various articles from the 60s that portrayed him as "moody", "sullen", things like that. There's a reason besides "regional pride" why he's a hero and a role model to so many Latino players. I see the Ubaldo Jimenez commercial running on MLB TV now, the one where he's looking for a gift-shop license plate with "Ubaldo" on it, sure that it's got to be there somewhere, maybe it's in the back, tell the bus to hold up a minute, and I remember the baseball cards of "Bob" Clemente that I had as a kid, and how it came out later that Clemente himself insisted that he be called "Roberto" by god, because that was his name, stop trying to make me a "Bob", I'm not a "Bob", and I think to myself, "what a wonderful world!" Not really. But if the notion of him being a "greeter" in his "baseball afterlife" appealed to me, maybe I would. Interesting in the Youtube video, Bob Prince calls Clemente "Bobby." IIRC, Prince's refusal to stop that was a sore point with Clemente. But it was Bob Prince, so what do you do? The full story of Latin-American players and the various ways of accommodating US culture has yet to be told... Look on YouTube for Orlando Cepeda and see the videos of him playing congas w/Tito Rodriguez!

Marketing is based on the manipulation of emotions, and not just in baseball. Sentimentality is the most easily manipulated type of emotion. A lot of times the manipulation is bought into and furthered without even realizing it. The marketeers thank us when we do that, thank us with a laugh, a smile, and a receipt. I suspect we have differing opinions on the degree and type and healthiness of marketing found around us today, not just in baseball, so I'll not go any further than this in response. But to answer your question, that's why.

Yeah, I distinctly remember reading various articles from the 60s that portrayed him as "moody", "sullen", things like that. There's a reason besides "regional pride" why he's a hero and a role model to so many Latino players. I see the Ubaldo Jimenez commercial running on MLB TV now, the one where he's looking for a gift-shop license plate with "Ubaldo" on it, sure that it's got to be there somewhere, maybe it's in the back, tell the bus to hold up a minute, and I remember the baseball cards of "Bob" Clemente that I had as a kid, and how it came out later that Clemente himself insisted that he be called "Roberto" by god, because that was his name, stop trying to make me a "Bob", I'm not a "Bob", and I think to myself, "what a wonderful world!" Not really. But if the notion of him being a "greeter" in his "baseball afterlife" appealed to me, maybe I would.

The word "greeter" is all "Rock and Roll Heaven" and stuff. Like Clemente will be standing there to shake your hand or something, like there really is a "club". Clemente is dead, and there is no club, except in the overripe imagination of fans. Now, if you want to use the word "club" non-literally, as a term to group people of a certain statistical subset, fine. I do that myself all the time. But when you introduce the notion of having a "greeter", that makes it something else, something more than statistical. That's like all Field Of Dreams and shit, which, ok, yeah, I was touched by that movie and all that, but c'mon...emo stuff like that is good for the moment (sometimes), but then let it go and get back to reality, please. There is no cornfield, and the diet Pepsi commercial is fake. Besides, "greeters" are servants, unless they are hosts. Is it The Roberto Clemente 3000 Hit Club now? Smilin' Bob welcome you in and instructs the staff to take care of you, take your coat, fix you a drink? 3000 hits is a damn significant accomplishment, and it puts you in rare company. But there ain't no club and there ain't no greeter, multi-faceted attempts to manipulate consumer emotions notwithstanding.

Kinda of sappy & morose, I think. Clemente would easily have put on a couple hundred hits more if he had lived, could have changed the dynamic of the way the Pirate franchise evolved in the '70s, could have done a lot more good things for baseball and humanity in general, and I'm supposed to get a tear in my eye because he's now the phantasmagorical "greeter" to some statistical club? Like the harmless smiling old people you see at Wal-Mart, or the tuxedoed servants you see at "social affairs"? Emo baseball. Yuck.

Verified

The team seems mentally off right now, that sparkle's no there. Wonder if players are having family matters or such. I just hope Wash (or somebody) wakes everybody up, and soon. The Rangers have a collection of some of the most infectious smiles in baseball. Sure would be nice to see lots more of them. Right now it's like a sleeping giant on Saturday morning, trying to get in a few more winks. WAKE UP

Ogando's now surpassed his career high total of inning pitched. Gotta wonder what kind of walls lie ahead. OTOH, this is the second time this year I've seen him lose effectiveness after going into a deep single-inning pitch count. So maybe he just needs to get stronger in that regard. Either way, Rangers' arms and bats have both been off lately. Not much fun there.

It is being reported that the kidney stone of Matt Harrison has finally passed (presumably without wincing, since the attending physician was Dr. Ron Hunt). However, Mr. Harrison's tricep remains bruised, although he is still slated to make his next scheduled start Saturday, in Atlanta. Although the overall evidence strongly suggests otherwise, this incident/ordeal/human tragi-drama supports the wisdom of the evolutionary/intelligent design/random outcome of humans having a urinary tract not located in their pitching arm. And vice-versa.

Yeah, in 2000: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_League_Baseball Well, that's too bad,

Might not have anything to do with your speed, but might be the amount of your memory. Or even your browser cache. Clear that puppy out and see what happens.