Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Confusion is tearing my heart apart

There was a time as a teen when I felt something similar to as I feel now. During my high school years, a certain local interest caught my eye. She was hot, young, and exciting. Back then, my affection for a distant lover was not as strong. Eventually, this sexy local interest lost what made her exciting and my heart overcame its dilemma.

Now, however, I don't know if I can be as strong.

Last year, hanging out with the local interest was a fun way to pass the time. I had no problem differentiating between the object of my desire and a friendly associate. I was head-over-heels in love with my long-distance love; anyone else was just a friend.

How things have changed.

My long-distance love has let her life go to hell. I feel bad saying this, and maybe I am too hard on her, but it's true. Since last summer, since we laughed and loved and talked about our October plans, she had become lazylistless, and completely uninterested in being the best she can be. As I have mentioned before, watching her digression has become maddeningly frustrating.

Meanwhile, the local interest has become the talk of the town. After pulling herself out of the basement, nee the gutter, she has totally reinvented herself with new found confidence. She has gone from not-so-super to supermodel.

Although I used to talk openly about our friendship, her recent success has me curious about how life would be if we were exclusive. I even find myself slightly jealous whenever anyone talks about her lovingly. In a way, I guess I feel as if I found her first. But I know as long as my heart lies elsewhere and I stay committed to a struggling relationship, being jealous of my local interest's new fame is not fair to her, me, or my long-distance lover.

This is the most confused I have ever been. If only love was easy.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

From the Bigs to the Buses



(This post originally appeared on Bus Leagues Baseball.com)

From the rural sandlots to the city stadiums, the basic premise of baseball – three strikes, three outs, nine innings, etc – remains constant. Sure, the talent level rises with every step to the majors, but does an increase in whiz-bang glitz and glamour make for a more entertaining game? Is happiness and emotional attachment at the ballpark directly related to cost and hype? Or have I been reading too much Freakonomics?

These questions are a result of seeing two games of various levels this past weekend. Last Friday night, I used one of my season tickets and saw James Shields of the Tampa Bay Rays one-hit the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The next night, I traveled to Viera, nee Melbourne, Florida, received a free ticket and watched the Class-A Florida State League Brevard County Manatees take on the Tampa Yankees.

As anyone who has followed my past writings knows, I am a closet Rays fan. Although I grew up a Mets fan, since moving to Tampa two years ago, I’ve had an interest in the Rays, especially in regards to the team’s transformation from doormat to dominant. So as an admirer, and not yet a full-blown fan, I was on my feet applauding what may have been the best pitching performance in franchise history.

Unlike my newfound fascination with the Rays, the Brevard County Manatees have been my favorite minor league team since their inception in 1994. Formerly a Marlins’ farm team, the Manatees are now the A-ball representative of the Milwaukee Brewers. Personally, I still wear the teal Manatees hat. I think it looks better than the newer red and blue version.

My two weekend destinations, independent of the score, couldn’t have been more different. A trip to the Trop is almost like a journey to the amusement park. Despite its reputation as a bad place for baseball, the Rays ownership has turned Tropicana Field into a fan friendly experience, with batting cages, speed gun contests, and plenty of other bells, whistles, gizmos, and doo-dads. The coup de grace of this new Trop is the new large video score board installed before the 2007 season. Every stat the above-average fan needs is broadcast, from OPS to pitch count, WHIP to walks per nine innings.

Even the fans at Tropicana Field have their own vibe. Whereas a growing number are starting to pepper the stands with Upton and Shields jerseys, many still wear generic merchandise mixed with attention-getting flare such as clown wigs and boxing robes. Topping off this group of new fans was an American Idol contestant in town to sing the National Anthem.

A Manatees game at Space Coast Stadium, on the other hand, is a far different experience. Instead of a celebrity singing for America, for example, the Manatees had two anonymous local crooners. Instead of a promotional foul line race between characters dressed as Pepsi, Aquafina, and Sierra Mist, the Manatees featured two local little league coaches dressed in generic ketchup and mustard bottles. Instead of amplified stereo noise, blinking lights, and new-age scoreboard, Space Coast Stadium relied on an old fashioned public address system and a video screen fit for an Sega Genesis.

So was the Rays’ game I paid for that much better than the low-budget Class-A Manatees contest I saw for free? Well, in this case, yes. But only because of the magnificent pitching artistry of James Shields. If not for the great Mr. Shields, it might have been a toss-up.

One small pitch for baseball, one giant event for Commodore alumni

Saturday was a glorious day in the history of my high school alma mater. Yesterday, for the first time ever, former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 1984 Tim Wakefield faced former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 2002 Prince Fielder. Since only one other baseball player from my high school has ever made the big leagues, former reliever Jeff Tam, this is kinda a big deal.

Unfortunately, due to the Brewers league shift back in '98, the Brewers don't play Boston regularly. So I, and all the possibly dozens and dozens of EGHS fans that care about stuff like this, have had to wait nearly three years into young Prince's career for a highly anticipated match-up against Wakefield.

So what did these Commodore legends do against each other?

In the top of the second, Fielder grounded to short.

In the top of the fourth, Fielder doubled to deep right.

In the top of the sixth, Fielder flied out to center.

So overall, Fielder went 1 for 3 with a double against his Commodore predecesor. As the Brewers won't face the Red Sox again until 2011 and Wakefield is already 49 years old (give or take a few years), this might be the only big league match-up of the two Eau Gallie High players and maybe the last one of its kind for a while.

Until the next Commodore makes the majors.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

From the Bigs to the Buses

(This post originally appeared on Bus Leagues Baseball.com)

From the rural sandlots to the city stadiums, the basic premise of baseball – three strikes, three outs, nine innings, etc – remains constant. Sure, the talent level rises with every step to the majors, but does an increase in whiz-bang glitz and glamour make for a more entertaining game? Is happiness and emotional attachment at the ballpark directly related to cost and hype? Or have I been reading too much Freakonomics?

These questions are a result of seeing two games of various levels this past weekend. Last Friday night, I used one of my season tickets and saw James Shields of the Tampa Bay Rays one-hit the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The next night, I traveled to Viera, nee Melbourne, Florida, received a free ticket and watched the Class-A Florida State League Brevard County Manatees take on the Tampa Yankees.

As anyone who has followed my past writings knows, I am a closet Rays fan. Although I grew up a Mets fan, since moving to Tampa two years ago, I’ve had an interest in the Rays, especially in regards to the team’s transformation from doormat to dominant. So as an admirer, and not yet a full-blown fan, I was on my feet applauding what may have been the best pitching performance in franchise history.

Unlike my newfound fascination with the Rays, the Brevard County Manatees have been my favorite minor league team since their inception in 1994. Formerly a Marlins’ farm team, the Manatees are now the A-ball representative of the Milwaukee Brewers. Personally, I still wear the teal Manatees hat. I think it looks better than the newer red and blue version.

My two weekend destinations, independent of the score, couldn’t have been more different. A trip to the Trop is almost like a journey to the amusement park. Despite its reputation as a bad place for baseball, the Rays ownership has turned Tropicana Field into a fan friendly experience, with batting cages, speed gun contests, and plenty of other bells, whistles, gizmos, and doo-dads. The coup de grace of this new Trop is the new large video score board installed before the 2007 season. Every stat the above-average fan needs is broadcast, from OPS to pitch count, WHIP to walks per nine innings.

Even the fans at Tropicana Field have their own vibe. Whereas a growing number are starting to pepper the stands with Upton and Shields jerseys, many still wear generic merchandise mixed with attention-getting flare such as clown wigs and boxing robes. Topping off this group of new fans was an American Idol contestant in town to sing the National Anthem.

A Manatees game at Space Coast Stadium, on the other hand, is a far different experience. Instead of a celebrity singing for America, for example, the Manatees had two anonymous local crooners. Instead of a promotional foul line race between characters dressed as Pepsi, Aquafina, and Sierra Mist, the Manatees featured two local little league coaches dressed in generic ketchup and mustard bottles. Instead of amplified stereo noise, blinking lights, and new-age scoreboard, Space Coast Stadium relied on an old fashioned public address system and a video screen fit for an Sega Genesis.

So was the Rays’ game I paid for that much better than the low-budget Class-A Manatees contest I saw for free? Well, in this case, yes. But only because of the magnificent pitching artistry of James Shields. If not for the great Mr. Shields, it might have been a toss-up.