good to the last drop

The walk-off squeeze bunt in the 10th inning wasn't even the strangest thing that happened at the Sox game last night.



Neither was LeiGh Vanna White-ing a bag of Sox peanuts while behind bars.

Most of it happened in the second inning. To wit:

• There was genuine applause when Frank Thomas came up the first time in the second. Which instantly turned into "uh, what now?" when he promptly escorted the baseball to deep left, just like he always used to do. I mean, we're happy to see you do well, but uh, why couldn't you be satisfied with, say, a double off the wall? And then he hits another homer in the 5th. Garland sucks.
• Ozzie, annoyed with the tight strike zone and Garland's generally sucktacularity, comes out to the mound to talk to his pitcher after giving up Thomas' aforementioned and a back-to-back, cherry on top, solo shot to Bobby Crosby. Umpire Doug Eddings comes out to break up the meeting, Ozzie apparently didn't like the color of Eddings' trousers, gets tossed.
• Play is stopped for a good long while as a squirrel prances around in the left field grass. Pablo Ozuna, hamfisted outfielder though he is, knows enough to not get near the wild animal, and generally gives off the body language of, "I don't get paid for that." The security guys along the left field stands? Not moving an inch.
  
  Finally, like sheep to the slaughter, two grounds crew guys jog out of the visitor's dugout, which is on the right field side, i.e., the furthest away from the squirrel possible. The crew dudes start sprinting when they realize 40,000 people are watching them attempt to do their jobs. The squirrel, alert to the possibility of a golden comedic moment, now jailbreaks for the center field warning track. Grounds crew guys freak, try to cut off the path of escape, squirrel doubles back to the left field corner. Cheers of "SQUIRREL... SQUIRREL... SQUIRREL" have predictably arisen. Jill shakes her head, wonders where we are "right now." Helpful fans along the left field stands try to reach out to catch it, maybe not thinking about how dumb grabbing a feral rodent might be. Order restored when the squirrel hides under? inside? the tarp. ToddH deadpans, "maybe the squirrel can pitch."

The rest was pretty straightforward. Mackowiak ties it, Jenks holds' em, Pablo squeezes it.

from the creators of Anchorman...

...comes my sleeper pick for the summer. Too bad it releases in August.


Going to the game tonight. Figures to be a lot of runs scored with Garland pitching.

may showers

People often ask me how I'm coping with the job thing. I grumble about it mostly (that's what's expected). But, I think I need to do a little more navel-gazing, a little more grousing to catch up because I've been having too much fun lately to grouse.

I drove up to Milwaukee Friday night to spend some QT with family friends the Twins (TM) and godson Alex (who loves to introduce me as his "godfather" for the odd looks), who, ceremony notwithstanding, are officially done at Marquette. Did this make me feel old? Yes, yes it did.


Laura looks happy and relieved, Alex looks scared and about to relieve his pants. Can you cry laugh at the same time? The random "Road work ahead" sign in the corner is also great, and kind of ominous.

We took in a Brewers game, which went undeterred by finicky Midwest spring weather because of Miller Park's retractable roof, and where Prince Fielder became a new favorite (how many can you have at once, anyway? Double digits too many?) after he pounded a monstrous drive to deep center, which was "estimated at 475 feet, the second-longest since Miller Park opened in 2001."

What's not to like about a guy that has a great name, great baseball pedigree, weighs 280 lbs, and can hit baseballs farther than I can hit golf balls? Pretty much nothing. And he just turned 22, and looks a lot like Big Papi. The thing is, David Ortiz didn't turn into Big Papi until his age 28 season.


See the Cingular and Roadrunner billboards (right of the scoreboard)? Fielder's homer hit the beam under the ads. For good measure, he cranked out an opposite field shot his next AB.


Saturday night, went to check out Secret Machines at a midnight show at Metro. Why a midnight show, guys. I know, so I'd be bleary-eyed for Mass the following morning. Random observations include:

1. I could have sworn guitarist Ben Curtis was wearing a blouse. A little too tight to be "fitted," black, cap sleeves, v-neck, topped off with a rather large charm on a silver chain, which would have fit *right* in during the 80s heyday of terrible movies like "Conan the Barbarian" and "Beastmaster." This jives with MaxFactor's observation that crowd seemed, more um, non-hetero than he'd envisioned. Nothing wrong with it, just didn't know the gay community was so into psychedelic rock. Good on you guys.

2. Drummer Josh Garza is a golden god. And it was his birthday.

3. SM has a very strong "it's-all-about-the-music" vibe during their performances; they don't indulge in Crowd Banter 101, they don't have a traditional floor configuration (main singer is off to the side, the trio faces each other), and lots of time you can't even see them cuz their usually backlit, the light show lases directly into the audience and the smoke takes care of the rest. So it's a little weird to listen to the new album, which sounds post-relational and attention-needy, and juxtapose it with how they carry themselves. Also, Ben Curtis wants to be a Guitar Hero (TM), which sort of makes sense considering their avowed Zeppelin love, but doesn't considering their generally aloof vibe. Anyway. They're probably still in the middle of figuring it all out.

4. I should have gotten the other shirt. Dah. At least I still have a shirt that says "Secret Machines" on it.

Woke up Sunday and had a great brunch with the boarders, my parents, my godson's and his cousin's families. Fun. This doesn't even include the two Sox games I went to last week. To answer your question, yes, I'm still actively looking for work, but what are you supposed to do when a school that's interested can't hire you because you don't coach soccer? Oh well. Here's to good times until then.

late night

Conan's been in town this week, giving us precious moments like following Mr. T around the town:



Have a good weekend.

When I consider

Sonnet XIV (1652)
John Milton

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

Freddy loves MJ

The longest laugh of the today goes to Freddy Garcia allegedly testing positive for marijuana use during the World Baseball Classic. Apparently, smoking weed also means you lose 3-4 MPH off your fastball, adding a few pounds, and some of his mound demeanor.

"You talk to Freddy off the field, and he's the same way: laid back. He doesn't look like Venezuela. He looks like he's from California, I guess," says Ozzie.

I suspect a plot by Brandon McCarthy to break free from bullpen duties. All it would take is an unsuspecting IM conversation:

BMacSKILLZ: u ther?
FG34Calcetines: sup
BMacSKILLZ: wutcha doin
FG34Calcetines: internet poker its the bombbbbbbbb
FG34Calcetines: wanna play
BMacSKILLZ: no thx
FG34Calcetines: ok
FG34Calcetines: wut u doin?
BMacSKILLZ: eatin for the 5th time today
BMacSKILLZ: i want Oz to have a cool signal 4 me when i come out of the pen
BMacSKILLZ: the goatee thing didnt fly, i guess
BMacSKILLZ: anywayz
FG34Calcetines: thats cool man i can talk to him
FG34Calcetines: hes mi gente cuz of my wife
FG34Calcetines: he gonna listen to me cuz we're from Tierra de la gracia
BMacSKILLZ: s'ok
BMacSKILLZ: listen, there's gonna b a hydrant flushing next week
BMacSKILLZ: near my place, gonna be beer, ppl chillin out, food, hookahs and stuff
FG34Calcetines: hookaz are awesome

reading

One of my tutoring students asked me what I read. Nowadays, I tend to read stuff in a style that I want to write. So, Nick Hornby, John Irving, Chuck Palahniuk of late. I was trying to explain to my student, that for a writerly nerd, it's hard to just enjoy a plot, because I'm wrapped up in analyzing the language or dissecting how the dude turned that phrase so hilariously. I know *just* enough to be dangerous.

"Piano" (1918)
D.H. Lawrence

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.