On This Date in Reds History

1970 A sellout crowd of 51,050 is on hand for the dedication of Cincinnati's Riverfront Stadium, rushed to completion so the Reds can host the All-Star game. There is no electricity in the refreshments areas, and the scoreboard occasionally misfires. but Hank Aaron doesn't misfire as he hits the park's first home run. The Braves win, 8 - 2. In the first inning, visiting outfielder Hank Aaron hits the park's first home run off Cincinnati's starter Jim McGlothlin.
1983 The Reds score eight runs in the first inning and go on to beat the visiting Giants, 15 - 5. Paul Householder drives in four runs, two on a freak inside-the-park homer. With Ron Oester on 1B, Householder hits a shallow fly that LF Chris Smith loses in the sun and it bounces over his head. Smith then slips going after the ball and the two baserunners race around the bases. Oester slides across the plate just ahead of Householder's slide, which is so close he spikes Oester's knee
1999 Cincinnati defeats Arizona, 2-0, as Ron Villone and Scott Williamson combine on a 1-hitter. The Diamondbacks' only hit is a single by OF Tony Womack. Randy Johnson strikes out 17 in a magnificent but losing effort; in his last start he struck out 14 in losing to a no-hitter by Jimenez.
Baseball-Reference.com and thanks for the posting Lance...

Mark: Idol, Hero

I read the name of a guy from my youth the other day. We’ll call him Mark C for this blog. Mark C was my idol as a kid. I am guessing he must be close to 50 now? He was huge then and probably still is. Huge shoulders, tall and thick like a lumber jack. He was probably twice my size but in grade school, I probably didn’t notice the size difference. He was just like a big brother to me. His wife (then future wife) Carol and her family lived in my neighborhood growing up, and Mark and his family went to my church, I think his mom still does, I really don’t. I used to tag along behind Mark at church, he'd help me out here and there. We'd play basketball and he was always involved with my youth group stuff. I used to dress like him when I could. He and Carol actually stayed with us for a week or two when my mom and dad went on vacation. I haven't spoken to him in a very long time. I lost touch with Mark around the ninth grade. We'd run into each other from time to time over the next ten years or so. His mom and dad were the youth group leaders when our youth group went to Denver in about 1985. I knew his brother David a little. His parents were terrific people. When his dad Ken died I wrote a handwritten letter to Joanne telling her how wonderful I’d thought Ken was and that I felt the same way about her and that it was time to remember what a good life Ken had led. And even though I don't see any of them anymore, they've all had an impact on my life.

My mom told me over the weekend that one of the boys from that youth group, a boy named Steve, died a week or so ago, and Joanne went and spoke at the funeral. This kid Steve was my roommate on our Denver trip, and Joanne mentioned that trip at his funeral and all of us in her speech. The odd thing for me, is that I’ve thought about Mark dozens of times and hadn’t thought about Steve once in all these years. Steve was about my age, Mark was not. Steve was a crazy dude, Mark was not. Steve and I snuck cigarettes behind the church and Mark did not, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve killed me if he’d caught us. So Mark was my hero, my idol, ten years older than me. And Steve was my friend my accomplice, my same age. Steve and I had Catechism together and were Confirmed together. Mark and I had fun together; Steve and I had some adventures in trouble together. I have no idea what any of this means. It’s sad though, that I’m much more interested in the idea of looking up Mark and having a beer with him, after all these years, than I am of grieving about a guy I ran with a few times in Junior High School. That’s not to say that I take Steve’s death lightly, because I don’t. But the heroes that we have as children will always be our heroes. And in this world, in this day and age, it’s good to know that your heroes have survived in spite of it all.

I wonder how I’d call him up. I wonder how it would sound, “hey Mark, this is Joe, I know we haven’t’ spoken to each other in a couple of DECADES, but I was thinking about you randomly, and I was wondering, and don’t take this the wrong way, but would you like to go have a beer?” Yeah, that’s it. That sounds great. And then he changes his number and goes on an abrupt vacation for the next couple weeks. Maybe I’ll just leave him be and see if fate runs us by each other one more time. That might be a bit more poetic. And in the end, a heroes’ legend won’t be tainted by an awkward phone call and I will be spared the embarrassment of stammering through that awkward phone call. I kinda feel better just having thought about this for a while, almost as if Mark and I did catch up. But if you ask me, in a rare, non-cynical moment, I’ll tell you straight up: I’m rooting for fate.

Oh Shit, It's in the Hollywood Water...

First Dom Deluise, then Ed McMahon, Farrah, MJ and now this dude...WTF is going on out there? My heart really can't take much more of this.

I take it back, you're a bad bad man Mike

Mikes a good musician, no doubt. weirder than hell..yep. judge not lest ye be judged, and all that. But dude paid someone off for TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS so that he wouldn't be tried for child molestation. you're a bad bad man Mike. just sayin...

R.I.P. Mike Part deux

Ok, I admit it, I liked MJ back in the day. He's spent the past 15 years being a complete wacko train wreck though. But right now, I'm not gonna focus on the bad, just the good. Here's one I've always loved, and I hope you do too. R.I.P. Mike.

Reds Season Falling Apart

Things seem to be falling apart fast for Dusty and the boys...

i should be in advertising, i should've written this...

I love Hardee's even more today. Click here and watch their new commercial.

Please Don't Forget the REAL KING today

On Steroids in Baseball

Today i read that Manny Ramirez is back to baseball, with the Dodgers minor league AAA Affiliate. I guess I thought he was suspended till July 3rd. But the minor league club is okay to reap the benefit of having a big league superstar in their midst for a week or so huh? hmm. I don't really know how I feel about that. On the one hand, you have Manny taking something er other. Whatever it was, it really didn't sound like it was going to help him hit 400 for the second half of the year last year, or help him center the bat on more balls right? And how come noone ever talks about defense when it comes to steroids? And if someone did say that steroids helped outfielders field their positions better, would it kinda not matter if Manny did it anyway? Since he's a terrible fielder? And since the Big Club Dodgers can't benefit from someone who is "taking drugs" because he might help their club illegally, why then is it okay for him to help the minor league club sell tickets? Doesn't that seem a bit shady? And he's working for free too, just so everyone knows. Where is the union? Shouldn't they be there saying "one of our players doesn't play for free, he has to at least make the minimum." Thats what unions do, right? Sounds to me like the union doesn't want to be around Manny right now. Sounds to me like Manny is getting special treatment. Sounds to me like maybe the Dodgers and the Isotopes are really cleaning up on this suspension. Good? Bad? I still don't know how i feel about it.

I love baseball and I love the intergrity and the stats and the history of baseball. But how is PED's different than greenies and amphetamines that the players took in the 70's, 80's and 90's? Look, baseball has all these traditions and acts like it has all this integrity, but the truth is, there has always been something behind the scenes. What is it... the bats are harder now, the balls are crisper, the batting gloves have better technology. Did you ever see Mickey Mantle wear the body armor that Barry Bonds did? No. I'm not so sure I care too much about steroids. I think they have a handle on it now. I say make even stiffer penalties. What happened in the past sounds like it was going on everywhere, even with the good guys. And i don't want to know what is on that list of 100 players that is supposed to be sealed forever. You can't go back in time. YOU CAN'T GO BACK! Let's move on. Manny and A-Rod are Hall Of Fame quality baseball players, that played in an era that led to the banning of steroids. I just can't get all worked up about it. Baseball allowed it to go on for a very long time before they did anything about it. I just don't think we can condemn a decade if not more because of this. The playing field was level. You can't discount Bond's homeruns. How many would he have hit if he weren't taking a banned substance...allegedly?

We need to move on. Elvis found out what taking drugs does to a person, he knew it while he was taking them. So did Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison and thousands of other people in the history of the world. They all knew...its BAD FOR YOUR BODY. Period. If baseball catches you, you're gonna be out of the game. You have to live with your body forever...or until it fails. But I'm not going to hold it against anyone. And i'm not going to get all holier than thou about it either. Manny sounds like an idiot. He did something stupid by all accounts. Shocking? Not in the least. Let's move on.

Snowy Hill

(this was written in February)
Today I was driving home through the rolling hills and endless valleys of western West Virginia, alone, close to crossing the Kentucky border. The roads were clear and the sun was shining, the snow from the day before yesterday laid peacefully on every hill and pasture. And in the distance, on one hill i saw a dozen cows. All were standing in no particular form or in any type of unified order. Some wandered from here to there. Others stood still looking off to the distance. There was to be no grazing as the hill was covered with 6 inches of snow. And amidst it all, a dog played. He ran to each of the cows, in no particular order, and would stand and bark. Then as if possessed he would run from the group and bark to the distance. He'd run back and fitfully engage another cow. I was too far away to hear anything. But by the posture of the dog, I am sure he was barking at the top of his lungs. And I realized the dog was very much like me. Trying to influence those around him, barking at the sky, running in circles, stopping and darting to the next subject that he thought he could persuade. But the cows had no concern for the dog; and the dog wouldn't give up. Uninvolved, uncommitted and unconcerned, the cows stood, or walked, or rolled their eyes. The dog continued. I drove and smiled. I felt the heat of my car heater through my black leather shoes, and it was toasty, almost musky with the melted snow on the carpet under my feet. All I could think of was the dog, and the cows and the hill and i had a distant feeling of someone saying something like “snug as a bug in a rug” but it was more like déjà vue than anything else. I smiled bigger as I opened my window a few inches from closed. I hate the cold. But for a minute, I enjoyed the arctic blast and the smell of winter and earth flowing freely through my Honda. I was still smiling miles past the dog-and-cows scene. But before I turned the radio back on, I made a promise to myself to remember the scene. Turns out, I can’t forget it no matter what.

Feb 6 09

R.I.P. Mike

Um, this is weird, first Ed McMahon, then Farrah today, then Mike today too? weird. wonder which way Mike went? up or down?

80's Angel is an Angel now...

When i was ten years old, Farrah Fawcett Majors was 34 and the year was 1980. She had gotten married to the Six Million Dollar man when I was 3. 1980 was her last year on Charlies Angels. I remember watching Charlies Angels, but I barely remember her on the show. In fact, I remember all the other replacements more than her. She was a lot older than me. But she was still a sex symbol most of my life. Today she died and I'm just a little sad about that. I loved the 80's tv shows, Angels, Six Million Dollar Man, Bionic Woman, The Incredible Hulk, Love Boat, Fantasy Island, M*A*S*H, Threes Company, All In The Family, etc. I am obsessed with the 80's. I have no idea why, maybe that was the best time of my life and it's all been downhill ever since, and I'm trying to relive those times. Or maybe Farrah was just a beautiful woman and I wanted to mention her here on my blog.

Sam's Uptown Cafe

I am in Charleston West Va., and it is a beautiful night. I am overlooking the beautiful river from my 9th floor hotel room. I went for a jog through downtown which I absolutely love doing, dodging the pedestrians and listening to my I-pod. I am traveling with another rep from my company, and he and I are going to SAM'S UPTOWN CAFE tonight, my favorite haunt in the Mountain State. The beer is cold, the music is loud, the customers are drunk and the waitress, who eats fries off my plate because she thinks she's funny, calls herself ODB (old dirty bitch). She's 41. Anyhow, i am off to have a plate of wings and watch Dennis eat a half pound burger. exciting!

Fathers Day 2009

Today is the fifth Fathers Day I’ve spent without my dad. Five years, man. Hannah was almost 3 when he died, and Sarah and he never shared this earth simultaneously. I think I’ve become jaded about what Fathers Day means, is, should be. I’m glad I got my card from my daughters. I’m glad they made me coffee.

I got up and read the paper and had another cup of coffee. I read this perfect piece by my man Mo Egger.

And then I thought about writing some about my dad. And then I put it away in my mind, fearing that I wouldn’t have anything good to say. I mean, I miss my dad. Is that ok to say? I miss him, and I think about him all the time. Its gotten easier over the years but I miss him terribly. I don’t think people say this enough. If you know me, you know that I think my dad was one of the finest men to ever walk the earth. He epitomized everything a man should be…strong, tough, funny, successful, loved his kids and his wife and his family. The guy gave more than ten men should have, could have or would have. He was the classiest of men. I learned everything I ever needed to know about life from him, and he never taught it to me, he lived the lessons. He walked the path. He was no savior and he wasn’t perfect, but damn my old man was as good as it gets.

So the rest of my life will be spent trying to remember him enough to be a little like him, and trying not to obsess about him so much that I am upset forever. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t lay in bed all day crying or anything even close to that, but its been tough. I hope I never stop missing him, and I’m sure I never will. But the things that I wish I could talk to him about, the things I wish I could show him will always get me down a little. I wish that my girls had a grandpa on my side of the family. Hannah called him Poppy and now sarah does too. It melts me that Sarah, who at three years old has never met him, but grabs his pictures wherever we are and says “dats Poppee”. The girls missed out. I try and keep his memory alive for them, but what I am supposed to do? Who knows. There’s no book. There’s no rules on how to deal with this stuff. Its whatever works for you. Do what you have to do to get on with life.

Today on Father’s Day I was sad, and I got to spend the day swimming with my girls, so I was happy too. In the end, I guess we always need to remember the good, remember the bad and take from all of our experiences in life, so that we can one day, all be like Poppy.

Remembering Chuck Taylor

When junior high collided with high school, I was the second youngest boy in my class. Roger was the youngest, and one of my two best friends. John was the other, he was the scientific, hard worker, non girl chaser, non beer drinker in our trio, but that’s another story for another time. I have no idea how me and Roger and John got to be so close over the past years from grades seven through nine. Roger and I met in homeroom on the first day of seventh grade. He was an “O” and I was an “R”, and so our paths converged. Roger was a tough kid from a poor family, raised by a strong single mom. He was tough as nails, and smart as a whip, and was totally into himself. Me, I was more the dreamer sort, with a quick smartass tongue to complicate my life. John, Roger and I had a ton of classes together, and played soccer and basketball on the same teams, and just as we learned to not bring our Star Wars action figures to seventh grade, we also learned about girls, life and beer together. For some reason, although we were three totally different kids, we were totally inseparable and totally loved being best pals. We read the Outsiders by S.E. Hinton together and Roger thought he was Dallas, and I thought I was Ponyboy, (and John didn’t see himself in that story) and so that’s how Roger and I existed; two sides of the same coin. Yin and Yang. Id and Ego, with John there to knock our heads together whenever we needed it. And for some reason it really worked until the graduates of Wilson Jr High, along with the graduates of Garfield Jr. High matriculated to Hamilton High School, to be bumped from the head of the food chain to the end of the line. Big men on campus became little fish in a big pond.

And so we spread our wings some and made all kinds of new friends. We met Tony, Bobby, David, Bryan and Darren Steele, otherwise known as Chuck Taylor, because he always wore old school Converse Chucks. I loved these new friends, they were musicians and drank beer, and weren’t exactly wild, but fun loving guys. We were inseparable for the better part of the next four years. The band Stealth was formed, girls came and went, but we all loved hanging out together. When high school was over, we all went in different directions. Some stayed together, others went on their own. We would never get back together as a group again. Clichéd though it may be, this was somewhat sad, but true.

Two weeks ago I learned that Chuck had died from brain tumors caused by radiation therapy he underwent as a kid when he was fighting leukemia. I am seriously shocked by this news. Apparently he died 4 months earlier, and I just hadn’t heard. And although I hadn’t seen my high school buddy for seven or eight years, I miss him terribly. Darren was a one of a kind. He was a serviceable drummer as a kid, he loved music, and he was very funny. The best part of him was when he laughed. He was born to laugh, and he could get a laugh going at something stupid that would infect those around him. Chuckie could be a real pain in the ass, and God knows he was set in his ways, especially for a young guy. But he was a guy that loved to talk, tell stories and loved hearing the good stories of others. I remember when someone would disagree with him, even about something trivial, he would get this amazed look on his face and would be awed by the possibility that he might be wrong, but probably more disgusted that someone disagreed with him.

Chuck was a small guy, very short and very thin, but had this big mane of hair (remember the rock band, and yes, it was the 80’s) that seemed to be made completely of baby’s hair. Thin, curly, whispy and mostly blonde, he was a funny looking kid, but still had his own very original look. He always wore Converse Chuck Taylors, he always wore colorful “look at me” Hawaiian type shirts and he was always in the middle of everyone. He made funny comments barely out of earshot of someone who might not enjoy the comment. He always made fart noises at just the right times in classes and in group gatherings (think Principal addressing group of students). He was a funny kid who always was around. And now he’s gone.

People go their separate ways everyday. Mostly we never know exactly the last time we’re going to see someone. We can’t go back and we can’t ever know our own destiny. I will always remember this little funny looking, fun loving world changer that was my friend for many years in the high school years of my life. Why we die is mostly not important. How we live is much more crucial to the memory of those around us. And when people’s lives are examined after they’re gone, the core of the human personality is what should be preserved. For me, this is the second high school best friend I’ve lost (Bobby’s suicide ten years ago). Our whole group has lost two now. Most of us don’t see each other anymore, but some stay in contact. That’s not sad for me, but what is sad is the idea that someone who was so full of life, had so much to offer the world in optimism and laughter and thoughtfulness, won’t be bringing his sunny disposition to anyone new ever again. I remember Chuck as the boy before the man, and the blueprint of his life had already been drawn early in life. So when I think about my friend, I will think of his infectious laugh and his big heart and his Converse. The shoes were the ultimate metaphor for his life. They were fun, colorful and seemed bigger than their actual size, and everyone liked them. That’s how I’ll remember Chuck, that’s how I’ll remember Darren.

Speed Racer

Let me first say that i haved loved Speed Racer since i was a kid. i always thought it was so cool, cooler than me and my tastes. I loved it from a distance though, not like living the experience like Star Wars or Indiana Jones. Nevertheless, i was excited to see it being made a few years back, and since i don't have little boys, i didn't get to the theater to see it. I'd heard it was a train wreck. The box office receipts were abysmal. And i figured i'd wait for it to come to cable. And so i did, and so it did, and i sat to watch it this week. WORST. MOVIE. EVER. i gave it about 15 minutes and turned it off. Like i said before, i don't know everything about speed racer, but this movie was unwatchable. it was as lame as the old cartoons were cool. if you have premium channels through your cable or satellite provider, do yourself a favor and gouge your eyes out with a fork, then pour gasoline in the ocular cavities and strike a match before you sit for this movie. i am as open-minded about movies as one can be, but this is the absolute worst i've ever seen.