One of the most appealing things to me about baseball is the fact that the game isn’t governed by a clock. There’s no chewing the clock or running the clock out. You play the game until the nine innings are over. I try not to be “that guy” but I will immediately correct anybody who…
As Patrick Dubuque taught us last week, every man has a breaking point. I’ve seen it many times. Most recently, I saw it this past weekend. What you are witnessing in the above image from Saturday night’s loss to the Twins is Trevor Bauer’s. Slack-jawed, dumbfounded, and perplexed, he is wondering just how in the…
Through the generosity of a good friend I recently came into possession of one (1) Official Scorebook for the 1969 Seattle Pilots. The year is both vital for establishing cultural context, and completely unnecessary, as the 1969 Seattle Pilots were the only Seattle Pilots. The next season they left for Milwaukee, and Seattle has only…
Some families have more tragedy woven into the fabric of their family tapestry than others. The Grimaldis are said to be cursed in love, the Guinnesses cursed by cars, the Hemingways cursed by dark thoughts coupled with substance abuse. The Kennedys are just plain cursed. The Furcal family might be baseball’s most cursed family. Silvino…
Eddie Rosario’s family should show up more often, because when it does, he goes over the fence in threes.