Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that The Ref had a verified Twitter account, that is until he called Stephen Slater a ‘bag nazi’ and a ‘super slider earlier today. I apologize for not paying attention, Denis, because you’re first rate on Twitter; in the past week he hit the nail on the head re Whoopi Goldberg, Eat Pray Love and Snooki.
Yesterday, Leary put it to Alex Rodriguez nicely, using his own brand of scientific analysis to compare A-Rod to the past stars in a series of tweets dubbed ‘If the Old Stars Had Steroids’:
If you’re interested in that old school ‘No Cure For Cancer’ brand of Leary, follow him on Twitter. Also, Rescue Me is starting to pick up this season too if you ask me.
He could jump another few percentage points if the Collins original became his walk-up music.
Scutaro has been more than tolerable on the whole (.285 BA, leads the team in at-bats, second in hits) and on a tear recently (.485 BA in his last ten games). If you don’t agree, then you don’t know the Red Sox unremarkable shortstop history of recent times.
H/T to Ryan Hudson (Editor, SB Nation) for finding this deep link on the Red Sox website that lists their walk-up music. He especially likes Dice-K taking the mound to Fabolous. Personally, I don’t think it’s gets any better than Jeremy Hermida coming out to N2Deep’s “Back to the Hotel.”
Four different tracks. Artists and titles unknown.
They actually let him get away with that.
Is this something that’s universally listed on every team’s website? It should be. I did some not-great research, and could only find a listing of the 2008 Detroit Tigers entrance music. However, a coworker of mine who was at the Yankee game last night at least confirms that a certain captain comes out to this song…
In honor of my first trip back to Fenway Park this weekend, I put it out there to some of the sports blog intelligentsia to send: My First Sports Memory
You can read all about my personal moment of nostalgia – a heartwarming tale about how Fenway Park turned a shy six-year old into a leader of men – here. Below is some more true folklore (at least in the eye of the beholder).
If nothing else, this a great chance to see a few of your favorite sports bloggers really, really date themselves ( Game 3 of the 1986 World Series, a Kirk Gibson game, the John Havlicek retirement game!).
My earliest sports memory was Game 3 of the 1986 World Series at Fenway Park. My father had one ticket to the game (second row centerfield bleachers), but he decided to bring me figuring they wouldn’t deny an 8 year old entrance to the game. He was right, the old man at the gate pulled me up over the turnstyle and let me into the game. I don’t remember much about the game other than the fact that Oil Can Boyd was on the mound for the Sox and shit the bed.
I hope this led to a life of hurdling-the-turnstyle crime for Mr. Don Chavez.
I was 7 years old and we went to see the Salt Lake City Trappers on the 4th of July. I believe Hank Aaron threw the first pitch. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that there was going to be fireworks after the game. The only thing that I remember is that there was a loud bang that just scared me to death, and I
yelped out my first F bomb. The next moments were in slow motion. My step Dad looked at me and then told my Mother what her son just said. My next memory is having soap in my mouth.
They’ll be other examples of kids blinding loving the watered-down experience (especially when you’re not old enough to drink) that is Minor League baseball..as well as more F-bombs.
For me, probably around 1983-84, at Memorial Stadium to see the Orioles play. My father took my 4 siblings and I to the games to give my mom a break in the evenings. We always got there early to catch balls in the outfield bleachers, and get autographs signed by the players during batting practice. Cal “not overrated” Ripken would sign at every game, and sign for everyone. I have one baseball that he signed for me on four different occasions. When was the last time you saw a ball player spend 45 minutes signing autographs on game day? He is from Baltimore, and is Baltimore and every kid growing up in that era and in that area have Cal Ripken as their first and most lasting memory in Sports.
Touching, let’s hear about an autograph signing gone sour, shall we..
I remember going to a Bullets-Pistons game at the Capital Centre with my dad and one of my friends, around 1990. Well after the game ended, a few of the players including John Salley went down the line of waiting fans to sign autographs. Salley got the group to my right, looked directly at my friend Sean and me, and went directly to the next group on our left. My dad tried to get autographs for us also but he refused to sign for him too. I’ve never been a John Salley fan since.
Then again, if this goes differently, imagine the shame you’d be feeling right now if you grew up loving John Salley…
1986, it must have been. Tony Pena’s last year with the Pirates. I woulda been 2. I remember someone telling me that Pena was up to bat at Three Rivers Stadium…either my dad or the announcer. I was sitting in the nosebleeds, but remember saying “He’s gonna hit a home run,” which he did, to the leftfield seats way below me. Pena’s always been one of my favorite players because of that.
One of the many Red Sox games of my youth also featured a Tony Pena home run – the rarity of which can not be overstated (1,988 games career games – just 107 HRs).
1983, Left Field at Veterans Stadium, sitting in ubstructed view seats, so I actually ended up watching on television screens on overhang, my uncle lectures me, “Just remember that your Godfather took you to see Pete Rose play baseball.” I remembered. Though, I could have seen the same game at home.
I remember going to the Phoenix Firebirds game at Phoenix Municipal Stadium on my brother’s birthday. The Firebirds were the AAA affiliate for the Giants back then and I got to see a bunch of great players come through. But that night I couldn’t have been older than five or six. It was a night game because it’s Phoenix in the summer and you don’t play baseball during the day outside. I remember how packed the place was. Matt Williams was on the team and there was a buzz about him but I didn’t care about that. I just liked the environment of the ballpark. Nothing of note happened (besides hearing my brother’s name announced over the PA) but it was my first trip to the ballpark and I still remember the way the sky looked and the way the mountains made strange shadows on the field.
We were up in the nosebleeds. the place smelled real bad. I remember my science teacher Mr. Coyle was selling beer. Very surreal. On the floor for the Celtics were guys like Pistol Pete Maravich, Dave Bing, I remember they were playing buffalo and ernie d the former braves star but local kid from providence was on the celtics at the time. the place went absolutey nuts for hondo. ab-so-lute-ly nuts. i dont remember the garden ever rocking like that and we had seasons all through the bird years. thats the night my love
affair with the celtics began.
Josh, we can deduce that you were at least in grade school when this game took place – in 1978 – how old are you?
Little background info:
I was born in Bremerhaven, Germany and lived there until 1995 then moved to Olympia, WA.
After living in WA for a few months we went to a Mariners-Yankees game in the 1995 divisonal series playoffs. We went to game 5 of the series so the series was 2-2. It was a great game, we sat in left-center at the Kingdome(old Mariners stadium shared with the Seahawks). Since it was a old stadium, not all the seats were that good but who cares it was game 5. It went to 11 innings that night with my team, the Mariners(who I am still a huge fan of), winning the game 6-5.
My first baseball game: Mariners-Yankees, game 5, 11 innings. Mariners Winning.
This wins the reward for decrepit sporting venue visited in thine youth…whoops, wait a second…
My first live sporting event memory was on a cold October night at the old Tiger Stadium in Detroit. Back when Sweet Lou and Trammel ruled the middle of the diamond and Kirk Gibson was in shape.
My dad had a stache like Jack Morris and it was his first game as well.
It was 1984 and I was 10. The ball park seemed like a magical place despite the scary surroundings of Motown. The bathrooms had long pee troughs like a farm, the floors were dirty and the hand rails were sticky with beer (hoping that was the case).
I remember thinking that the field seemed way smaller than I expected and the grass much greener.
It was a frosty night and I also remember having a lot of hot chocolate to keep my hands warm, more so than enjoying it as a drink.
I don’t remember who the Tigers were playing, nor who won but I do remember Gibson hitting one out of the park and into the lumber yard across the street. It was all anyone was talking about.
I was just glad I did not miss it.
It may not of been the most glamorous place but the old Tiger Stadium will always have a soft spot in my sporting heart.
Back in like 1996 or 1997 the NBA pre-season schedule grabbed a spot in Missoula, MT of all places which happened to be a couple of hours from where I grew up. So my Dad and I and a couple of friends grabbed some tickets and went. The game was between the Sonics and the Grizzlies (Vancouver of course) and was a big deal to us small time Montana folk. Long story short – at some point in the middle of the game, George Karl showed his disagreement with the officiating by dropping an “F” bomb. Now you have to understand how small the arena was and as you can imagine, the entire place heard it, staring back at George in complete shock. George, realized he had been caught, and dropped the sheepiest of all sheepish grins while look around in embarrassment. Classic.
You sure you don’t remember flyfishing first? Because you were probably flyfishing the day before…and every day at 4 a.m. before and after. What is is with Montanadians and the fly fishing, anyway?
And what is it about effin that leave such an impression on the kids? Moving on…
My parents took me to a Yankee game when I was a really little kid. We had great seats on the first base line through my dad’s work. It’s every kids dream to catch a foul ball and on that day, mine came true…well almost did.
It was mid-way through the game when my dad went to get himself and my mom a few beers. When he got to his seat, one of the Yankee players hit a foul ball and it was coming right at us. Without any time to put the beers in each hand down, my father stuck the cup in the air in an attempt to catch the ball. As the ball fell from the sky closer and closer, my dad targeted the ball with the cup. And then, he caught it. Right in his cup. This was a million to one shot. You know that game where you have a ball attached to a cup with a string and you try to catch the ball in the cup? Well this was like that on PEDs and no string. I couldn’t believe he caught the ball.
We didn’t even have a chance to savor the moment. As this miracle catch happened, the asshole behind us was going for the foul as well. The ball didn’t even have a chance to get wet. This dick swatted at the ball hitting my dad’s cup, sending the ball 4 rows in front of us. Unbelievable.
Steve Melfi, who eventually forgave his dad for that fumble last Summer, wishes you all a Happy Father’s Day.
Jacoby “The Jet” Ellsbury steals home, the Sox close out the sweep of the Yankees at home, and my roommate and I had the first simultaneous “Holy S#@t” yell of the young 2009 MLB season (in the friendly confines of our home).
It was Ellsbury’s first steal of home plate since College, and the first one for the Red Sox since Jose Offerman did so in August 1999. Still, that one was part of a double steal; the last straight steal of home (love that expression) for the Sox dates back to 1994 (Billy Hatcher)
In honor of Ellsbury and all you grifters out there, I give you 10 videos featuring Great Moments in Stealing Home. We’ve got another Pettitte failing, some video game footage, Jenny Finch as a teen, and of course the classic 1955 steal by Jackie Robinson. (Also, something that doesn’t technically qualify as stealing home. I’m a sucker for a well-executed clothesline, what can I say.) Enjoy!
They really printed Conigliaro’s mongoloid eye on the cover after he got beaned upside the face. Really?
And Tony Conigliaro really wrote a by-line article for SI about the incident. Really?!
This was all way off my radar – which is apparently a pretty shotty radar, because this seems like a must read for anyone who seriously considers themselves a fan of the Red Sox.
SI.com posted a list of the Top-25 Sports Illustrated Covers of the 1970s. Check it out here.
So I was sitting around watching Norbit (for the second time) on HBO Comedy this weekend. When the plot intricacies became too much to bear, my mind wandered and I started to think (appropriately) about other things that suck. Specifically, things that I own.
Pretty high up there on this list of contraband is a signed black and white 8×10 of Mo Vaughn from his days on the Red Sox.
The Hit Dog was pretty beloved in Boston before his unceremonious departure. He left in 1998, signing the richest contract in the league at the time to go to the Angels, where he was plagued by injury. After that, he went to the Mets – where baseball players go to die – and was never seen or heard from again.
Regardless, I prominently display this autograph atop a stereo cabinet that has three of four – minus the woofer – speakers blown out. Mo has taken a few tumbles during Number the Beast (I keep dryer sheets in a more sturdy, in tact location).
Which leads us nicely to this week’s sports blogger poll…
What is the worst piece of sports memorabilia that you own?
Much like if you preface any potato product with bacon, sour cream, and/or cheddar cheese, adding freestyle in front of any sporting activity immediately grabs my attention.
…with that said, I give you freestyle bullfighting.
After the first 8 seconds, the strategy is essentially: SERPENTINE! SERPENTINE! But the back-flip was pretty cool.
And let the record show that the matador (??) is named Dusty Tuckness and the bull is named E-COLI.
