Welcome to the end of week 2 of the 2009 season. Events of note in baseball this week include both New York teams losing their inaugural games at Theft From Taxpayers Stadiums, the 8-1 start of the low-payroll Marlins, and perhaps the Wakefield near-no-hitter. As is my custom, the Nachoman will ignore these well-covered stories, choosing to focus on Polish Sausages, reality television, and the details of a basebrawl that didn’t make the headlines. But first…
West Virginia rules that OJ Mayo is, in fact, a jerk
Here’s a case that probably didn’t make the local papers. According to this month’s Referee magazine, the West Virginia supreme court of appeals overturned a lower court’s ruling and said that the state high school sports association DOES, in fact, have the power to suspend athletes for on-court incidents without due process.
You may remember the original incident. Back in 2007, National high school basketball star OJ Mayo taunted an opponent after he (Mr. Mayo) consummated a dunk. The official assessed a technical foul, escorted Mr. Mayo to the bench, and gave instructions for Mr. Mayo to stay away from the opponent for the time being. OJ willfully ignored the official’s instructions, and headed directly back to continue his taunt… whereupon the official T’d him up for the second and last time. Mayo was ejected; he bumped the referee so hard he knocked him down. Five of Mr. Mayo’s teammates were similarly ejected when they left the bench in the ensuing near-melee.
In West Virginia, a player who is ejected from a basketball game must serve an automatic two game suspension. Slimeball lawyers immediately went to court on behalf of Mr. Mayo and his teammates. The slimeballs argued that a government institution such as a public school may not suspend players, causing “irreparable harm,” without due process (i.e. formal hearing of an appeal). A judge issued an injunction allowing everyone involved to play in the next two games, which not coincidentally included a game against a regional powerhouse that would be on national television.
This part of the case made headlines everywhere a few years ago. What you probably didn’t hear was that the court eventually ruled in favor of Mayo and his posse – they basically usurped the official’s right to make a judgment on the court by branding the West Virginia state rule about suspensions unconstitutional. (They also directed the school system to pay Mr. Mayo’s court costs.) Now, regardless of whether you share the Nachoman’s views of Mr. Mayo, such a ruling sets a dangerous precedent. Can you imagine the late-night local television ads? “If you’ve been injured in an accident, or if the ref gave your innocent son a red card, then you can get compensation. Call the law offices of Jones and Snake.”
Fortunately, the West Virginia supreme court was smart enough to stop the insanity. They overturned the lower court ruling. Even though the event involved a public school, they said, extracurricular participation is not a civil right, like school attendance; therefore, sports are not subject to due process rules. Now, at least, West Virginia courts have set the same precedent as many (but not all!) other states: The judgment calls of sports officials are not subject to review by the legal system. OJ Mayo was able to buck the system, but hopefully the next spoiled brat will not have the same success.
I am ceaselessly fascinated with the Milwaukee Sausage Race.
In Friday’s race, according to CSN Chicago, the Hot Dog had quite a mishap. He fell down, “right out of his bun.” Anyone have a highlight to show me?[1]
This is not an infield fly
I’m waiting to see a catcher take advantage of an obscure rules provision. Imagine runners on first and second with less than two out and the pitcher batting. Ideal sacrifice situation, right? Right. Let’s say the pitcher pops up the bunt attempt in front of the plate. What do you do as the catcher?
You let the ball fall to the ground untouched. Then you throw to third and to second for the 2-5-6 double play. (If the pitcher didn’t bother to jog out the popup, then you can get a 2-5-6-4 triple play.)
Why does this work? The runners have to stay close to their bases, assuming the ball will be caught. Then when the ball is dropped, the runners are forced to move.
But Nachoman, isn’t the infield fly rule designed to prevent just such a double or triple play? Why yes, it is… in the situation I described, if the batter swings and hits a popup, he’s automatically out, regardless of whether the ball is caught, so as not to put the offense at a disadvantage. But the rules explicitly exclude bunts and line drives from being ruled as infield flies.
Note that the catcher must let the ball fall *untouched*. If he intentionally drops the ball after contacting it, the batter is dead and the batter is out.
Ooh, a fly ball!
Marty Brennaman noted that Milwaukee fans don’t seem to understand the notion of a routine fly ball. Every time the ball goes in the air, they ooh and ah as if Hank Aaron himself still played in their town, even if the left fielder camps under the ball 80 feet in front of the warning track. I watched on television Tuesday and Wednesday, and I decided he’s right. The Milwaukee crowd reminds me of the old NFL Europe crowds, who knew nothing about football but were drunk enough to cheer for anything. Since they were soccer people by nature, they reserved their cheering for extra points and routine field goals, because hey, kicking, they understand that!
New member of the Nachoman’s enemies list for slow play
Francisco Rodriguez, Mets reliever. Sure, the guy is good… his curveball looks exactly like the fastball coming out of his arm, and he made plenty of Padres look silly in his inning Thursday night. But… he took for EVER between pitches, walking around, rubbing up the ball, looking in as if the catcher’s signals were dissertations sent via Morse code. Frankie Rodriguez, your slow work and disdain for the proper pace of the game has landed you a spot on the Nachoman’s Enemies List.
I’ll never understand why ESPN can’t figure out international soccer.
The Champions League playoffs are, to Europeans, every bit as exciting and important as NFL playoffs to Americans. The structure of a playoff match is straightforward: two full, regulation, 90-minute games are played, one at each team’s home ground. The winner is the team who scores the most total, or “aggregate,” goals. If the teams are tied in aggregate, the team who scored more goals at the opponent’s ground wins.
The effect of the two-legged structure is that each “game” should really be treated as a “half.” For example, two weeks ago, Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-1 at Liverpool in the first leg of their match. On Tuesday, when the teams played at Chelsea, Chelsea was up by two goals. The aggregate is the only score that matters.
Nevertheless, ESPN chose – and has ALWAYS chosen, in every Champions League match I’ve ever watched on the channel – to display only the score of the current leg on screen. The screen said 0-0, even though Chelsea held an overwhelming 2-goal lead. The current-game score is worse than useless, because it gives a false sense of the game situation.
Why does ESPN not show the aggregate score on screen? Would they ever show just the second-half score of a football game? No, of course not, because ESPN people actually understand football.
And they not only buried the lede, they completely missed it
A brawl will always attract the attention of the Nachoman, especially when it involves one of the pitchers on my fantasy team and a 6-game suspension. Red Sock Josh Beckettt earned baseball jail for 6 games because he threw at Bobby Abreu’s head in Sunday’s game.
“Evil bastard, how could a major league pitcher throw near someone’s head. How awful. Burn him.” That’s what most folks would say after reading the ESPN story about the suspension, especially if those folks are as sick of the Red Sox as the rest of the universe outside New England. But before rendering your own moral judgment, take a look at the video and the mlb.com story. The video speaks for itself… what ACTUALLY happened was that Mr. Abreu called time, the umpire called time while Mr. Beckett was already in his motion, and Mr. Beckett went ahead with his pitch, as pitchers are taught to do.
The question becomes, did Mr. Beckett throw at Mr. Abreu’s head as retaliation for the heinous act of calling time? Or, die Mr. Beckett just throw the ball randomly? It’s hard to tell. Joe West’s umpire crew did not acknowledge any inappropriate action on Mr. Beckett’s part – he was not ejected from the game. (About three Angels were ejected, primarily for attempting unsuccessfully to fight with Mr. Beckett.)
Evil corporation of the week
I got an unsolicited phone call from “your local Domino’s Pizza” this afternoon, promising a “special offer just for you!” Not bloody likely, I thought – if this isn’t a prank call or phishing scheme, then I’ll bet Domino’s just called every customer in their database.
Upon my inquiry, the manager at the local Domino’s confirmed that yes, the call was authentically from Domino’s, but that the advertising scheme was developed and run by the corporate office, NOT the local store. In fact, he said, he’s been trying desperately to contact the corporate office because he’s had so many customer complaints about the phone calls.
I’d say that Domino’s has just lost my business… but their cold, flavorless, cardboard pizza already lost it. I’ll take Papa John’s and Pizza Hut any day.[2]
Only Vin Scully could make Jackie Robinson Day interesting
Okay, okay, the universe gets it – Jackie Robinson was the first black major leaguer in the 20th century, he was stoic in the face of ungodly prejudice, and so on. That is all correct; Mr. Robinson is, without question and with no sarcasm intended, the greatest baseball player who ever lived. That said, my own perspective is that it would be nice if the country would take the occasion of the election of the first black president to turn Jackie’s story into a historic footnote – mainstream Americans no longer issue casual death threats to people based on their race. Instead, baseball chooses to whack their viewers over the head with the social sledgehammer.
The only broadcast that, in the Nachoman’s opinion, handled Jackie Robinson Day properly was that of the Dodgers. The only mention of the festivities was made at the opening, with a Vin Scully story. He gave a first-hand account of the Dodgers clubhouse on a tense day in Cincinnati when Jackie Robinson had received some credible death threats. In the locker room, Robinson’s teammates kept trying to break the tension with jokes, none of which really worked… until one Dodger made a comment that Vin remembered as “poignant” 62 years later: he said, “I’ve got it. We can *all* wear number 42, then no one in Cincinnati will know who’s the real Jackie Robinson.” *That* produced laughter throughout the clubhouse.
Of course, Mr. Scully told this story on the anniversary of Mr. Robinson’s debut, when, yes, everyone on every team wore number 42. I generally can’t stand it when baseball broadcasters try to wax poetic or show off their social consciousness.[3] I’ll listen to Mr. Scully, though, talking about any topic in the universe.
Why do I even bother to watch Edinson Volquez anymore?
Consider his outing against the Brewers on Monday, which was typical: More balls than strikes… 3-2 on seemingly every hitter… took his time in between pitches… failed to cover first base on a grounder to the right side… balked… overthrew the fastball… He generally looked as if he had no clue what he was doing, like a boy trying to do a man’s job. I don’t understand. With the kind of killer stuff that comes out of Mr. Volquez’s right arm, he could throw down the middle of the plate and simply dare the opposition to hit him, and he’d be successful. Why nibble?
I note that two pitchers in particular, Ryan Dempster and Kyle Lohse, are having considerable success after leaving the Reds organization. When they were with the Reds, they were known as head cases without the mental fortitude to succeed at the major league level. Now, they’re among the league leaders in all sorts of pitching categories. What changed? I wonder if this says anything about the Reds’ coaching staff over the years. I hope it doesn’t predict the future of Edinson Volquez.
Dusty finally did what I wanted to do all night
“This might be one of those woodshed deals,” said Marty Brennaman when Dusty Baker came out to talk to Edinson Volquez with no one warming up in the bullpen.
The late Jack Soete, who taught me how to holler at the television, dived into essentially a comedy routine when the pitching coach would come out to talk to 1990s reliever Rob Dibble. Mr. Dibble had been a lights-out reliever in the Reds championship year, but in later years, he couldn’t control his pitches or his temper.
When the pitching coach came to the mound to talk to an angry Dibble, the coach looked totally intimidated. “Oh, Mr. Dibble,” Jack would shout in a falsetto. “Mr. Dibble, would you pretty please throw some strikes, if it suits your plans for the evening? Also please don’t punch me.”
Unfortunately, Jack’s theatric interpretation of the Reds pitching coach conversing with his pitchers has seemed more accurate than not for the past couple of decades.
The Nachoman would prefer a Polish Sausage.
Cincinnati television broadcaster Chris Welch turned 53 on Tuesday night, when the Reds played in Milwaukee. The rest of the broadcast team presented him not with a birthday cake, but with a birthday Italian sausage, complete with candles. Mmmmm…
News is what gets broadcast, and what gets broadcast is news.
Um, why is it such a big deal when the NFL releases its schedule? Other than, because ESPN and the NFL say it is? I mean, everyone knew ahead of time exactly which teams would play which other teams. The schedule follows a formula: two games each against divisional opponents, one game against each team in two other divisions, and two conference games determined by last year’s order of finish. The only new information in the “release” included the dates and times of each game. That’s exciting?
Burrito Girl, sports are the original reality TV shows.
On Tuesday night, the Nachoman’s wife and sidekick Burrito Girl tried to tempt the Nachoman away from watching the Brewers-Reds game. She noted that several “much better” shows might be on, and I may want to switch to watch one of them with her. I thought she was just making up silly-sounding show names, but apparently she was serious about all but one.
So, which of the following Burrito Girl suggestions is NOT an actual reality show:
The Biggest Loser
My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance
The Littlest Groom.
Who Wants to Marry a Deformed Millionaire
The answer:
The Biggest Loser is about a bunch of fat people who compete to lose weight.[4]
In My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance, a young woman torments her poor parents by bringing home an over-the-top oaf and introducing him as her fiancé. How obnoxious.
The Littlest Groom made Burrito Girl snort in glee. In this short-lived 2005 FOX reality special, a “little man” (i.e. a dwarf, midget, or whatever your PC term of choice may be) lives with six women for two days before choosing one of them to be his bride. Of the women, three are also dwarfs, while three are normal-sized. (Note that I truly have no intent to offend any person of shortness here, unless said person submitted him- or her-self to a FOX reality show in which he or she made a nuptial decision based on two days of camera-fueled melodrama.)
On one hand, TLG seemed to be designed to generate controversy, and thus publicity. In searching for information about the show, Burrito Girl found the requisite statement from dwarf rights organizations[5] about whether or not this show was offensive. Fox was successful in that respect… but they were decidedly unsuccessful in attracting viewers. The show did not have much shelf life.
Problem is, Burrito Girl asked the same question as did I, as did the students at my dinner table tonight: Whom did The Littlest Groom choose? Did he choose a little woman or a big woman? And did they actually marry? Did they stay together? Burrito Girl could not find out the answer to these questions, despite close to an hour of intense internet searching. The good news was that her quest kept her away from the remote control, allowing me to watch the Reds victory in relative peace. The bad news is, we still don’t know who ended up being the Littlest Bride. Anyone with information, please post a comment.
West Virginia rules that OJ Mayo is, in fact, a jerk
Here’s a case that probably didn’t make the local papers. According to this month’s Referee magazine, the West Virginia supreme court of appeals overturned a lower court’s ruling and said that the state high school sports association DOES, in fact, have the power to suspend athletes for on-court incidents without due process.
You may remember the original incident. Back in 2007, National high school basketball star OJ Mayo taunted an opponent after he (Mr. Mayo) consummated a dunk. The official assessed a technical foul, escorted Mr. Mayo to the bench, and gave instructions for Mr. Mayo to stay away from the opponent for the time being. OJ willfully ignored the official’s instructions, and headed directly back to continue his taunt… whereupon the official T’d him up for the second and last time. Mayo was ejected; he bumped the referee so hard he knocked him down. Five of Mr. Mayo’s teammates were similarly ejected when they left the bench in the ensuing near-melee.
In West Virginia, a player who is ejected from a basketball game must serve an automatic two game suspension. Slimeball lawyers immediately went to court on behalf of Mr. Mayo and his teammates. The slimeballs argued that a government institution such as a public school may not suspend players, causing “irreparable harm,” without due process (i.e. formal hearing of an appeal). A judge issued an injunction allowing everyone involved to play in the next two games, which not coincidentally included a game against a regional powerhouse that would be on national television.
This part of the case made headlines everywhere a few years ago. What you probably didn’t hear was that the court eventually ruled in favor of Mayo and his posse – they basically usurped the official’s right to make a judgment on the court by branding the West Virginia state rule about suspensions unconstitutional. (They also directed the school system to pay Mr. Mayo’s court costs.) Now, regardless of whether you share the Nachoman’s views of Mr. Mayo, such a ruling sets a dangerous precedent. Can you imagine the late-night local television ads? “If you’ve been injured in an accident, or if the ref gave your innocent son a red card, then you can get compensation. Call the law offices of Jones and Snake.”
Fortunately, the West Virginia supreme court was smart enough to stop the insanity. They overturned the lower court ruling. Even though the event involved a public school, they said, extracurricular participation is not a civil right, like school attendance; therefore, sports are not subject to due process rules. Now, at least, West Virginia courts have set the same precedent as many (but not all!) other states: The judgment calls of sports officials are not subject to review by the legal system. OJ Mayo was able to buck the system, but hopefully the next spoiled brat will not have the same success.
I am ceaselessly fascinated with the Milwaukee Sausage Race.
In Friday’s race, according to CSN Chicago, the Hot Dog had quite a mishap. He fell down, “right out of his bun.” Anyone have a highlight to show me?[1]
This is not an infield fly
I’m waiting to see a catcher take advantage of an obscure rules provision. Imagine runners on first and second with less than two out and the pitcher batting. Ideal sacrifice situation, right? Right. Let’s say the pitcher pops up the bunt attempt in front of the plate. What do you do as the catcher?
You let the ball fall to the ground untouched. Then you throw to third and to second for the 2-5-6 double play. (If the pitcher didn’t bother to jog out the popup, then you can get a 2-5-6-4 triple play.)
Why does this work? The runners have to stay close to their bases, assuming the ball will be caught. Then when the ball is dropped, the runners are forced to move.
But Nachoman, isn’t the infield fly rule designed to prevent just such a double or triple play? Why yes, it is… in the situation I described, if the batter swings and hits a popup, he’s automatically out, regardless of whether the ball is caught, so as not to put the offense at a disadvantage. But the rules explicitly exclude bunts and line drives from being ruled as infield flies.
Note that the catcher must let the ball fall *untouched*. If he intentionally drops the ball after contacting it, the batter is dead and the batter is out.
Ooh, a fly ball!
Marty Brennaman noted that Milwaukee fans don’t seem to understand the notion of a routine fly ball. Every time the ball goes in the air, they ooh and ah as if Hank Aaron himself still played in their town, even if the left fielder camps under the ball 80 feet in front of the warning track. I watched on television Tuesday and Wednesday, and I decided he’s right. The Milwaukee crowd reminds me of the old NFL Europe crowds, who knew nothing about football but were drunk enough to cheer for anything. Since they were soccer people by nature, they reserved their cheering for extra points and routine field goals, because hey, kicking, they understand that!
New member of the Nachoman’s enemies list for slow play
Francisco Rodriguez, Mets reliever. Sure, the guy is good… his curveball looks exactly like the fastball coming out of his arm, and he made plenty of Padres look silly in his inning Thursday night. But… he took for EVER between pitches, walking around, rubbing up the ball, looking in as if the catcher’s signals were dissertations sent via Morse code. Frankie Rodriguez, your slow work and disdain for the proper pace of the game has landed you a spot on the Nachoman’s Enemies List.
I’ll never understand why ESPN can’t figure out international soccer.
The Champions League playoffs are, to Europeans, every bit as exciting and important as NFL playoffs to Americans. The structure of a playoff match is straightforward: two full, regulation, 90-minute games are played, one at each team’s home ground. The winner is the team who scores the most total, or “aggregate,” goals. If the teams are tied in aggregate, the team who scored more goals at the opponent’s ground wins.
The effect of the two-legged structure is that each “game” should really be treated as a “half.” For example, two weeks ago, Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-1 at Liverpool in the first leg of their match. On Tuesday, when the teams played at Chelsea, Chelsea was up by two goals. The aggregate is the only score that matters.
Nevertheless, ESPN chose – and has ALWAYS chosen, in every Champions League match I’ve ever watched on the channel – to display only the score of the current leg on screen. The screen said 0-0, even though Chelsea held an overwhelming 2-goal lead. The current-game score is worse than useless, because it gives a false sense of the game situation.
Why does ESPN not show the aggregate score on screen? Would they ever show just the second-half score of a football game? No, of course not, because ESPN people actually understand football.
And they not only buried the lede, they completely missed it
A brawl will always attract the attention of the Nachoman, especially when it involves one of the pitchers on my fantasy team and a 6-game suspension. Red Sock Josh Beckettt earned baseball jail for 6 games because he threw at Bobby Abreu’s head in Sunday’s game.
“Evil bastard, how could a major league pitcher throw near someone’s head. How awful. Burn him.” That’s what most folks would say after reading the ESPN story about the suspension, especially if those folks are as sick of the Red Sox as the rest of the universe outside New England. But before rendering your own moral judgment, take a look at the video and the mlb.com story. The video speaks for itself… what ACTUALLY happened was that Mr. Abreu called time, the umpire called time while Mr. Beckett was already in his motion, and Mr. Beckett went ahead with his pitch, as pitchers are taught to do.
The question becomes, did Mr. Beckett throw at Mr. Abreu’s head as retaliation for the heinous act of calling time? Or, die Mr. Beckett just throw the ball randomly? It’s hard to tell. Joe West’s umpire crew did not acknowledge any inappropriate action on Mr. Beckett’s part – he was not ejected from the game. (About three Angels were ejected, primarily for attempting unsuccessfully to fight with Mr. Beckett.)
Evil corporation of the week
I got an unsolicited phone call from “your local Domino’s Pizza” this afternoon, promising a “special offer just for you!” Not bloody likely, I thought – if this isn’t a prank call or phishing scheme, then I’ll bet Domino’s just called every customer in their database.
Upon my inquiry, the manager at the local Domino’s confirmed that yes, the call was authentically from Domino’s, but that the advertising scheme was developed and run by the corporate office, NOT the local store. In fact, he said, he’s been trying desperately to contact the corporate office because he’s had so many customer complaints about the phone calls.
I’d say that Domino’s has just lost my business… but their cold, flavorless, cardboard pizza already lost it. I’ll take Papa John’s and Pizza Hut any day.[2]
Only Vin Scully could make Jackie Robinson Day interesting
Okay, okay, the universe gets it – Jackie Robinson was the first black major leaguer in the 20th century, he was stoic in the face of ungodly prejudice, and so on. That is all correct; Mr. Robinson is, without question and with no sarcasm intended, the greatest baseball player who ever lived. That said, my own perspective is that it would be nice if the country would take the occasion of the election of the first black president to turn Jackie’s story into a historic footnote – mainstream Americans no longer issue casual death threats to people based on their race. Instead, baseball chooses to whack their viewers over the head with the social sledgehammer.
The only broadcast that, in the Nachoman’s opinion, handled Jackie Robinson Day properly was that of the Dodgers. The only mention of the festivities was made at the opening, with a Vin Scully story. He gave a first-hand account of the Dodgers clubhouse on a tense day in Cincinnati when Jackie Robinson had received some credible death threats. In the locker room, Robinson’s teammates kept trying to break the tension with jokes, none of which really worked… until one Dodger made a comment that Vin remembered as “poignant” 62 years later: he said, “I’ve got it. We can *all* wear number 42, then no one in Cincinnati will know who’s the real Jackie Robinson.” *That* produced laughter throughout the clubhouse.
Of course, Mr. Scully told this story on the anniversary of Mr. Robinson’s debut, when, yes, everyone on every team wore number 42. I generally can’t stand it when baseball broadcasters try to wax poetic or show off their social consciousness.[3] I’ll listen to Mr. Scully, though, talking about any topic in the universe.
Why do I even bother to watch Edinson Volquez anymore?
Consider his outing against the Brewers on Monday, which was typical: More balls than strikes… 3-2 on seemingly every hitter… took his time in between pitches… failed to cover first base on a grounder to the right side… balked… overthrew the fastball… He generally looked as if he had no clue what he was doing, like a boy trying to do a man’s job. I don’t understand. With the kind of killer stuff that comes out of Mr. Volquez’s right arm, he could throw down the middle of the plate and simply dare the opposition to hit him, and he’d be successful. Why nibble?
I note that two pitchers in particular, Ryan Dempster and Kyle Lohse, are having considerable success after leaving the Reds organization. When they were with the Reds, they were known as head cases without the mental fortitude to succeed at the major league level. Now, they’re among the league leaders in all sorts of pitching categories. What changed? I wonder if this says anything about the Reds’ coaching staff over the years. I hope it doesn’t predict the future of Edinson Volquez.
Dusty finally did what I wanted to do all night
“This might be one of those woodshed deals,” said Marty Brennaman when Dusty Baker came out to talk to Edinson Volquez with no one warming up in the bullpen.
The late Jack Soete, who taught me how to holler at the television, dived into essentially a comedy routine when the pitching coach would come out to talk to 1990s reliever Rob Dibble. Mr. Dibble had been a lights-out reliever in the Reds championship year, but in later years, he couldn’t control his pitches or his temper.
When the pitching coach came to the mound to talk to an angry Dibble, the coach looked totally intimidated. “Oh, Mr. Dibble,” Jack would shout in a falsetto. “Mr. Dibble, would you pretty please throw some strikes, if it suits your plans for the evening? Also please don’t punch me.”
Unfortunately, Jack’s theatric interpretation of the Reds pitching coach conversing with his pitchers has seemed more accurate than not for the past couple of decades.
The Nachoman would prefer a Polish Sausage.
Cincinnati television broadcaster Chris Welch turned 53 on Tuesday night, when the Reds played in Milwaukee. The rest of the broadcast team presented him not with a birthday cake, but with a birthday Italian sausage, complete with candles. Mmmmm…
News is what gets broadcast, and what gets broadcast is news.
Um, why is it such a big deal when the NFL releases its schedule? Other than, because ESPN and the NFL say it is? I mean, everyone knew ahead of time exactly which teams would play which other teams. The schedule follows a formula: two games each against divisional opponents, one game against each team in two other divisions, and two conference games determined by last year’s order of finish. The only new information in the “release” included the dates and times of each game. That’s exciting?
Burrito Girl, sports are the original reality TV shows.
On Tuesday night, the Nachoman’s wife and sidekick Burrito Girl tried to tempt the Nachoman away from watching the Brewers-Reds game. She noted that several “much better” shows might be on, and I may want to switch to watch one of them with her. I thought she was just making up silly-sounding show names, but apparently she was serious about all but one.
So, which of the following Burrito Girl suggestions is NOT an actual reality show:
The Biggest Loser
My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance
The Littlest Groom.
Who Wants to Marry a Deformed Millionaire
The answer:
The Biggest Loser is about a bunch of fat people who compete to lose weight.[4]
In My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance, a young woman torments her poor parents by bringing home an over-the-top oaf and introducing him as her fiancé. How obnoxious.
The Littlest Groom made Burrito Girl snort in glee. In this short-lived 2005 FOX reality special, a “little man” (i.e. a dwarf, midget, or whatever your PC term of choice may be) lives with six women for two days before choosing one of them to be his bride. Of the women, three are also dwarfs, while three are normal-sized. (Note that I truly have no intent to offend any person of shortness here, unless said person submitted him- or her-self to a FOX reality show in which he or she made a nuptial decision based on two days of camera-fueled melodrama.)
On one hand, TLG seemed to be designed to generate controversy, and thus publicity. In searching for information about the show, Burrito Girl found the requisite statement from dwarf rights organizations[5] about whether or not this show was offensive. Fox was successful in that respect… but they were decidedly unsuccessful in attracting viewers. The show did not have much shelf life.
Problem is, Burrito Girl asked the same question as did I, as did the students at my dinner table tonight: Whom did The Littlest Groom choose? Did he choose a little woman or a big woman? And did they actually marry? Did they stay together? Burrito Girl could not find out the answer to these questions, despite close to an hour of intense internet searching. The good news was that her quest kept her away from the remote control, allowing me to watch the Reds victory in relative peace. The bad news is, we still don’t know who ended up being the Littlest Bride. Anyone with information, please post a comment.
Who Wants to Marry a Deformed Millionaire
… does not exist. Sorry.
He won’t replace Skip Carey, but he ain’t bad
Sunday afternoon, Nationals at Braves. I had the pleasure of listening to Rob Dibble on MASN (Mid Atlantic Sports Network, the cable home of the Gnats). Pleasure, you say? I never used to like Mr. Dibble on ESPN’s Baseball Tonight… but I enjoyed his commentary during this particular game. He and his partner included three gems in their broadcast.
First of all, Dibble gave some insight that I hadn’t thought of. He noted that you shouldn’t ask an infielder how his pitcher looked in an outing. Why not? Because the infielders should always be watching the batters, not the pitchers. Dibble suggested that an infielder who tracks the pitch all the way to the bat will get a slower jump on the ball than an infielder who keeps his eyes locked on the hitter. Now, I have no idea whether Mr. Dibble is correct in his assertion – I will have to ask some folks who know baseball better than I. But it was an intriguing thought.
Next, he noted how Jair Jurrjens, a native of the Netherlands Antilles, became interested in baseball: because he watched countryman Andruw Jones. (Mr. Dibble presumably based this fact on personal communication with Mr. Jurrjens. He did not cite any other source.)
Then Dibble saw a bunch of guys in bunny suits hopping and romping around Turner Field on that Easter Sunday afternoon. His comments convinced the production crew to show the event. “The Bunny Hop Parade is in progress,” said Dibble. “Those are grown men.”
Mr. Brave? No, “Homer.”
The Braves have a mascot, don’t you know. “Homer” looks exactly like Mr. Red, or Mr. Met: person in baseball jersey with giant baseball head. The Nachoman says, unless your mascot is special and unique (see Phanatic, Phillie, or Chicken, San Diego), then your team neither needs nor wants a mascot. Homer isn’t as bad as Steely McBeam, but it’s a near thing.
On Sunday in Atlanta the song was performed by two out of tune Shriners. Seriously.
Give me “America the Beautiful” any day. Or “My Old Kentucky Home.” The Nachoman hereby goes on record as hating “God Bless America.” Not only is it a bad, melodramatic song… it also prolongs baseball games at which it is played. (Not to mention, if you’re at a Yankees game you must respect the song as the Soviets respected the hammer and sickle. At least that’s what a fan and the NYCLU claim in a lawsuit.)
Kudos to SNY for good coverage of a bad game
I did not enjoy Thursday’s Padres-Mets game, primarily because starting pitchers John Maine and Jake Peavy might as well have just told the umpire to add three balls to each batter’s count to get them over with. But I do want to praise Sportschannel New York for their outstanding coverage. They provided a game-focused broadcast without too many extraneous asides. Their one major side-story was to take a camera through the visitors’ bullpen at Citi Field. It’s not possible to watch the game from the bullpen… if you can see through three chain-link fences, then you get a view of the right fielder and that’s it – everything else is blocked by opaque ads on the outfield fence. (The poor view led one of the Pads relievers to take a seat in the stands for the first five innings on Tuesday.)
Best of all, SNY kept their audience informed of activity in both teams’ bullpens. Since I was working for STATS, INC Thursday night, and since one of my jobs is to indicate who is warming up in the bullpen, I was most appreciative of SNY’s efforts.
Next Week…
… the Nachoman probably prattles on about the Sausage Race again. I mean, the dang Milwaukee Sausages have appeared in virtually every column the Nachoman has ever written, dating back to this column’s 2005 origins. You can even do a successful google search for “Nachoman Sausage Race” Enough already, right?
Perhaps I’ll stop prattling when someone manages to get me into the Polish Sausage costume for a real live Miller Park race. That is the Nachoman’s lifelong dream.
… does not exist. Sorry.
He won’t replace Skip Carey, but he ain’t bad
Sunday afternoon, Nationals at Braves. I had the pleasure of listening to Rob Dibble on MASN (Mid Atlantic Sports Network, the cable home of the Gnats). Pleasure, you say? I never used to like Mr. Dibble on ESPN’s Baseball Tonight… but I enjoyed his commentary during this particular game. He and his partner included three gems in their broadcast.
First of all, Dibble gave some insight that I hadn’t thought of. He noted that you shouldn’t ask an infielder how his pitcher looked in an outing. Why not? Because the infielders should always be watching the batters, not the pitchers. Dibble suggested that an infielder who tracks the pitch all the way to the bat will get a slower jump on the ball than an infielder who keeps his eyes locked on the hitter. Now, I have no idea whether Mr. Dibble is correct in his assertion – I will have to ask some folks who know baseball better than I. But it was an intriguing thought.
Next, he noted how Jair Jurrjens, a native of the Netherlands Antilles, became interested in baseball: because he watched countryman Andruw Jones. (Mr. Dibble presumably based this fact on personal communication with Mr. Jurrjens. He did not cite any other source.)
Then Dibble saw a bunch of guys in bunny suits hopping and romping around Turner Field on that Easter Sunday afternoon. His comments convinced the production crew to show the event. “The Bunny Hop Parade is in progress,” said Dibble. “Those are grown men.”
Mr. Brave? No, “Homer.”
The Braves have a mascot, don’t you know. “Homer” looks exactly like Mr. Red, or Mr. Met: person in baseball jersey with giant baseball head. The Nachoman says, unless your mascot is special and unique (see Phanatic, Phillie, or Chicken, San Diego), then your team neither needs nor wants a mascot. Homer isn’t as bad as Steely McBeam, but it’s a near thing.
On Sunday in Atlanta the song was performed by two out of tune Shriners. Seriously.
Give me “America the Beautiful” any day. Or “My Old Kentucky Home.” The Nachoman hereby goes on record as hating “God Bless America.” Not only is it a bad, melodramatic song… it also prolongs baseball games at which it is played. (Not to mention, if you’re at a Yankees game you must respect the song as the Soviets respected the hammer and sickle. At least that’s what a fan and the NYCLU claim in a lawsuit.)
Kudos to SNY for good coverage of a bad game
I did not enjoy Thursday’s Padres-Mets game, primarily because starting pitchers John Maine and Jake Peavy might as well have just told the umpire to add three balls to each batter’s count to get them over with. But I do want to praise Sportschannel New York for their outstanding coverage. They provided a game-focused broadcast without too many extraneous asides. Their one major side-story was to take a camera through the visitors’ bullpen at Citi Field. It’s not possible to watch the game from the bullpen… if you can see through three chain-link fences, then you get a view of the right fielder and that’s it – everything else is blocked by opaque ads on the outfield fence. (The poor view led one of the Pads relievers to take a seat in the stands for the first five innings on Tuesday.)
Best of all, SNY kept their audience informed of activity in both teams’ bullpens. Since I was working for STATS, INC Thursday night, and since one of my jobs is to indicate who is warming up in the bullpen, I was most appreciative of SNY’s efforts.
Next Week…
… the Nachoman probably prattles on about the Sausage Race again. I mean, the dang Milwaukee Sausages have appeared in virtually every column the Nachoman has ever written, dating back to this column’s 2005 origins. You can even do a successful google search for “Nachoman Sausage Race” Enough already, right?
Perhaps I’ll stop prattling when someone manages to get me into the Polish Sausage costume for a real live Miller Park race. That is the Nachoman’s lifelong dream.
NM
[1] And no, the Nachoman emphatically does NOT find this erotic. Amusing yes, erotic no. Thank you.
[2] Or I won’t, because I gave up cheese last week. I really, really need a “cheesaholic’s anonymous”-style meeting… “Hello, my name is Greg, and it has been three days since I last ate cheese. Every day is still a struggle. I need your support.”
[3] Some of the announcers’ pontifications remind me of the apocryphal question posed to Super Bowl MVP Doug Williams: “How long have you been a black quarterback?”
[4] Possibly by giving up cheese. I am sad for them.
[5] Author Terry Pratchett calls such a group the Campaign for Equal Heights
[1] And no, the Nachoman emphatically does NOT find this erotic. Amusing yes, erotic no. Thank you.
[2] Or I won’t, because I gave up cheese last week. I really, really need a “cheesaholic’s anonymous”-style meeting… “Hello, my name is Greg, and it has been three days since I last ate cheese. Every day is still a struggle. I need your support.”
[3] Some of the announcers’ pontifications remind me of the apocryphal question posed to Super Bowl MVP Doug Williams: “How long have you been a black quarterback?”
[4] Possibly by giving up cheese. I am sad for them.
[5] Author Terry Pratchett calls such a group the Campaign for Equal Heights
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