Happy Wife: Free Agency is a Family Matter
I have always been intrigued by the athlete’s wife. Before anyone paints me a misogynist, as of this morning, there are no women playing any of the four major sports, and also as of this morning, there are no openly gay players on any of those teams (we can be certain there are some…
Roy Halladay: 1997-2017
I have suffered a great deal of loss in my years. I have attended more funerals, and delivered more eulogies, than most people do in a lifetime. And when someone dies, we, as a society, have an immediate reflex to turn the deceased into a saint, a hero, a flawless soul who graced this mortal…
Game 5: A Long Day’s Journey Into Morning
At about 11pm Eastern time on Saturday night, as the Dodgers wrapped up Game 4, my wife asked me the following question: “Do you want to go to the game tomorrow night?” I dismissed the idea out of hand; but she was already fingers-deep into Travelocity, attempting to change flights out of Florida and into…
A Star Was Born: Kiké Hernández Goes Hollywood and Honors Puerto Rico
In the Summer of 2012, a few years before Sports Illustrated christened the Houston Astros the 2017 World Series champions, my son’s travel baseball team ventured to Lancaster, California to watch the Single-A Jethawks play. The purpose of the visit was for each player on my son’s team to take the field for the national anthem (no…
Absolution or Ignominy
Some moments are indelible. When they happen, we know we have witnessed history. And no matter what happens after, those moments will be lodged in our memory, forevermore. “The Giants win the Pennant…the Giants win the Pennant…the Giants win the Pennant” is arguably the most famous moment in baseball history. And yet, the memory of…
Narrative Lost
Sometimes the horse gets out of the barn, the toothpaste gets out of the tube, the water goes under the (Golden Gate) bridge. Sometimes the words you say are not the words the listener hears. Sometimes people have the best of intentions, and then other people co-opt those intentions. And sometimes, because of that co-opting,…
Clayton’s Dad
Clayton Kershaw was born my sophomore year of high school. For reasons that we need not get into here, I cannot possibly be his father. However, when he takes the mound — and especially when he takes the mound late in the game — and especially when he takes the mound late in a post-season game — I may as well…
THE JOY OF OWNERSHIP
So you want to own a baseball team? Who doesn’t? We sit in the stands, we sit on the couch, we think we have all the answers. More cogent player personnel decisions, check. A more efficient parking system at the stadium, check. Cheaper beer, of course. A better variety of food, done. Fire that damn…