Ernie Harwell

I have to take a moment on here to mark the passing of a legend, radio voice of the Detroit Tigers, Ernie Harwell.

For years, I listened to Mr. Harwell doing the play-by-play for the Detroit Tigers, on the radio. He was the voice of the Tigers for 42 years, so I guess I was a listener for most of them ... in my car, at work ...

One time my sister and I were driving back from Michigan, and we were able to pick up a baseball game on the car radio around the call letters of WJR (the "Great Voice of the Great Lakes"). I think we were in PA. We knew it was a Tigers game because we recognized the voice immediately.

Here's a video from ESPN.

Ernie died yesterday at the age of 92 - a good run.

Holding the Red Sox hostage

Yesterday I was clicking through the few remaining TV channels I actually get now that I have scaled back my Comcast service.

I noticed that while I still get Home Shopping Network, I still have no access to baseball games in this crucial point in the season.

Highly significant games are being broadcast on stations such as TBS (31 on Comcast), ESPN, etc.

I was told when I reduced my service for economic reasons that I would get channels up to, I think, channel 25. The Red Sox, of course, are broadcast on NESN, which is channel 51. I choked down acceptance that I had lost regular baseball viewing from my life until the ALCS and/or World Series.

If I can't afford an expensive Comcast cable package, I certainly can't afford to go to an actual game - even if they weren't all sold out.

I pointed out the fact that Comcast was holding the Red Sox hostage when the Comcast woman described the package to me. She said it wasn't Comcast's fault that NESN is channel 51.

For those of you who don't remember - or never knew - the Red Sox games used to be broadcast on channel 38, which was actually viewed on channel 6 (I have no idea why).

I object to having access to the Home Shopping Network, which mysteriously moved from some high-numbered channel to channel 3 during this whole transaction, and not the Red Sox games.

The only good thing that came out of this is that I no longer watch TNT all day. In fact, I rarely turn on the TV at all anymore.

Being poor sucks for more reasons than one would think.

Never date within the division

OMG, take a look at the new (?) commercials for the Boston Bruins.

They're over there, on the video bar.

I just saw the dating one on NESN and knew I had to share ...

Mark Fidrych RIP

It's hard to explain pitcher Mark Fidrych. If you never saw him pitch during his glory year, well you really missed out on something.

Fidrych was killed yesterday on his farm in Northborough, MA. He was 54 years old.

From the Boston Globe:

Fidrych’s baseball legacy is as one of its more memorable and enjoyable shooting stars in the sport’s history. In 1976 -- less than two full years after the Tigers selected the lanky righthander in the 10th round of the 1974 amateur draft out of Worcester Academy -- Fidrych made the Tigers’ Opening Day roster out of spring training as a non-roster invitee.

With his out-of-nowhere success, affable grin and unkempt curls -- he was nicknamed ‘‘The Bird,’’ after the Sesame Street character to whom he bore a resemblance -- it wasn’t long before the 21-year-old had an enormous following.

Fidrych’s starts soon became must-see events -- he appeared on the covers of ‘‘Sports Illustrated’’ (once with Big Bird) and ‘‘Rolling Stone,’’ among others. But his newfound celebrity did not hinder him on the mound.

I guess with the huge number of ex-baseball players out there, many have died tragically, per capita.

But gee - Billy Martin (ex-Tigers manager) gone in a truck crash, (Tigers first baseman) Stormin' Norman Cash drowned - OK, so they were both drunk at the time - and now The Bird.

Funny I never realized he was from MA, but as soon as I watched the clips on Flint Expatriates and he opened his mouth, I heard the accent.

At any rate, thanks to Fidrych for the great memories.

Tigers and Lions and Pats

What paper in its right mind would ask a question like this:

How many games do you think the Tigers will win this season?

I'll give you three guesses ... no fair clicking on the link first ... and I hope they don't ask that same question later this year, about the Lions ...

More yearning - this time for the days when players like Alan Trammell, Lou Whittaker, Al Kaline and etc. played their entire career for one team.

I also remember in 1984, when the Tigers were 16-0, then 35-5 ... the excitement, the fear when they fell to only 9 games ahead of the second place team with 11 games left in the season ... ah, 1984, where did you go?

I won't even go into the New England Patriots and their insane trading of players that I like.

Sorry for the interruption

I deleted my last post because all of a sudden my computer was attacked by a Trojan horse (?) virus after I was on that website. Good thing I have numerous anti-virus and spyware programs installed on my laptop.


(Damn, because I was typing instead of paying attention, I just missed that HULU ad with Alec Baldwin!)


Anyway ... I'm not making the accusation that it came from the Zimbio site, but I thought it was probably prudent to remove the post with the link - and I didn't think to just change the link to another site because I was still in a panic.


For those of you who did not see it, it was about Comcast subscribers in Tucson, AZ, getting 30 seconds of porn during the Super Bowl.

What's the Super Bowl without porn? Here is the story from CNN.com.

Just as Cardinals' superstar Larry Fitzgerald watched himself sprint into the end zone on the stadium's Jumbotron during Sunday's Super Bowl, 10 seconds of eye-popping pornographic imagery "flashed" across the screens of those watching at home.

"We are mortified by last evening's Super Bowl interruption, and deeply apologize to our customers for the inappropriate programming," Comcast Cable said in a written statement.

Apparently there was male frontal nudity. Ten seconds? The other report said 30 ... oh well, as I said before, I was so startled by the up-close view of the Springsteen crotch that, had I been watching in Tucson, my powers of sight might still have been impaired.

What did you think of the Superbowl? No, not the game, silly!

What did you guys think of the Superbowl? I mean the ads, not the actual game! Nobody cares about the game ...

I was in Gloucester, in front of a giant hi def TV that could probably be seen from space, if it were outside. You could see every crater on every face, every bead of sweat dripping from a player's nose ... every detail of Springsteen's crotch.

What's with those pants he had on? We concluded that they were made of some material that would only stretch just so far, thus allowing him to bend backwards from his knees and still be able to stand up again (albeit ever so slowly).

Glory days indeed.

But I digress.

I left Gloucester to go home shortly after halftime, so I guess I missed some good commercials ... and some good game, from what I can tell, but that's not the point.

According to this piece from the New York Times, this year's Superbowl ads "pushed our usual (well-worn) buttons."

Since I don't tend to retain ads from every Superbowl ever televised,* as does Stuart Elliott, apparently, I have no complaints. I was vaguely impressed with the 3-D effects in the ad for the Disney movie (some of the elements appeared to be right in the room, in front of me) and I recall some guy getting hit by a bus.

I am still smiling about the one with the moose's ass; but although I know it had to be for some career-oriented company, I can't remember which one it was. I also liked the one with Conan O'Brien, but was offended by some others (they are gone already from my recollection).

But I missed the mother lode, I guess, when I missed Alec Baldwin in a HULU ad. What the hell is HULU? Oh, OK.

*I can't even say how many Superbowls I've watched, or who was in them, fer cryin' out loud.

Ten things I've done that you probably haven't

I'm caught up in all these ... er, memes? ... going around. So taking a clue from a Facebook friend (actually, he's both a blog and a Facebook friend), I'm 'fessing up to these 10 things (read about what may be the start of all this on author John Scalzi's blog, called Whatever):

1. I spent one night and two days on a replica of a tall ship (I've posted about that before).

2. I once drove from Michigan to Baltimore, MD, to see The Cars in concert (disclaimer: my sister Sarah has done this, since we did it together).

3. I was at game 5 of the World Series in 1984 when the Detroit Tigers finished off their incredible season with VICTORY (again, Sarah was there, too).

4. This isn't something I did (looking at the cat), but I once found a dead mouse down at the foot of my bed, between the top sheet and the blanket. I have no idea how many nights I slept with a dead mouse ...

5. I've lived in 3 different countries, counting the one I was born in but was taken out of when I was 3 months old.

6. I once went to rock concerts on three consecutive nights (again, Sarah ... what can I say? We used to live together!). I think this is another Cars-related entry.

7. I rang the church bell at The First Parish Church, Newbury (MA). It was way cool.

8. I have twice been in the building from which the bridge tenders raise the Gillis Bridge over the Merrimack River between Newburyport and Salisbury. It's tall and right over the middle of the river - and the view is terrific.

9. I was on an airplane one time and I was trying to open one of those packets of salad dressing they give you - and the salad dressing sprayed all over the woman sitting next to me.

10. I nearly emasculated Sen. John Kerry one day outside the State House in Boston. I was walking home, swinging my furled umbrella, and he was behind me. He grabbed it just before the point hit his crotch. At least I think it was Kerry ...

I used to believe I kissed the Pope's ring when my mother and I still lived in Barbados, but my mother recently told me it was just some bishop.

Now that I think about it, these things are probably supposed to be more impressive ... like, hey, I met Mother Teresa while feeding starving children in India ... great, now I'm depressed.

No more lists! Unless you guys want to do it, of course ....

Patriots

OK, I'm singin' my little Patriots song ...

I'm grilling chicken

Oh, sorry, I thought I was on Twitter or Facebook, where I'm supposed to report what I'm doing.

Back to reality - See, this is how it goes:

I goof off for the first two days of the week (see Gillian goof off), then I go into panic mode because I haven't got a story for SeaCoast Scene. Then I go into double panic because I realize everyone expects something from me by close of business Friday.

Want me to go with you to the garden center on a Monday? Sure thing, I'm right there.

Need me to tell you why you can't get Twitter to work on Thursday afternoon? Go away and call customer support, silly person.

It's a matter of on which day you catch me.

So I really don't have much upon which to comment. Except that the Patriots are looking mighty sucky right now.

Aw, man!

There are some things that just break your heart, and this is one of them - the photo to the left, of Tiger Stadium being dismantled.

My sister shot some photos on her recent visit back to Michigan.

Michigan and Trumbull will never be the same again ... oh no!

That was the address of Tiger baseball for 104 years. What a loss to all Tigers fans, old and new.

By the way, Tiger Stadium by Irwin J. Cohen is available from the publisher online at http://www.arcadiapublishing.com/ or by calling 888-313-2665. View other excerpts from Arcadia Publishing’s Michigan books at Michigan in Pictures!

Olympics *yawn* fever

Oh blah, the Olympics coverage continues to disappoint - and bore.

Does beach volleyball really excite millions of people? I don't think that any sport at which I'm fairly competent should be Olympics-worthy. It is kind of funny, though, that the swimmers have more cover on their bodies than the beach volleyball set.

Do those women really have to wear those skimpy outfits? Mahatma must have psychologically-induced blindness by now with this assault on his tender sensibilities.

I do like to watch the swimming, though, the gymnastics, and the diving.

But man, look at that haze, or smog, or whatever they are calling it now. Beach volley ball players, run back inside and put on some more clothes! Your lungs will thank you ...

Is Manny a menace?

I was watching last night's Red Sox game, and of course a lot of the talk was about Manny.

Manny being Manny, Manny being unhappy, the Red Sox ownership being unhappy - and I was thinking, you can get away with a lot if you're good at your job. That is, if you believe that Manny is/was pulling some shenanigans (I know my knee hurts a lot and nothing is structurally wrong, having had previous knee surgery to correct what was structurally wrong).

This from Dan Shaughnessy, in yesterday's Globe:

[Red Sox General Manager Theo] Epstein has wanted to get rid of Manny since the end of the 2003 season. Now he has the hammer. He has an owner who has seen the light. Manny insulted John Henry during the All-Star break and the once-naive billionaire is now on board with his baseball operations people. They all love Manny's presence in the cleanup spot, but the nonsense has reached a point where it's just not worth it anymore.

Really? It's just not worth it anymore? If one or two other members of the team had matched Manny's performance last night, the Red Sox might have won the game. He went 2 for 3, with 3 RBI, in the 7-5 loss.

I also ponder the multi-million dollar deal that brought pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka to the Sox. He gave up 6 runs in one inning (something not uncommon in him)! Is that worth it anymore?

Not being the manager, the general manager, or the owners, I can't say when enough is enough. But I can say that bad trades seem to be the particular forte' of the Red Sox.

Gimme a dog with mustard and cup of chowder, please

I was reading this story from Sunday's Globe North, about Fenway Park and hot dogs. Everyone loves a good dog at the park, right?

Well, it seems the upscale trend has hit America's favorite pastime, with the park now offering - rotisserie chicken, turkey wraps and clam chowder?

Actually, I kinda, sorta knew that already. Jerry Remy last year joked frequently about people in the luxury boxes dropping their sushi when a fly ball came their way. But I guess you can get whatever you want brought into your luxury box, or your suite at Fenway.

And I can't help but think, "What the .....?"

Are regular hot dog loving folks being "yuppified" out of everywhere: here, there, EVERYWHERE, dammit. OK, you go to the ballpark, you expect to pay too much for a hotdog. The vendors have to make money, too, and where better than with a captive audience?

But going to the ballpark and eating clam chowder?! Somehow, that seems sacrilegious. Sort of like yakking on your cell phone during the game ...

There is hope, though, according to the story: hot dogs are still #1 at the park. YAY

Now I wish I could afford to go to a game.

Play ball! Oh, ouch

Reading Tom Salemi's post about softball teams, I was reminded of my old team.


Well, it wasn't mine, I was just on it.


We were in a league.


We were awful.


I think we only won one game, and that was by forfeit. We celebrated as if we'd won a gold medal in the Olympics. What am I saying? We celebrated our losses as if we'd won a gold medal. We even celebrated when one of us broke her leg during a game (she was a real sport; as they carried her to the ambulance, she called to us to come over to her house in a couple of hours).


I remember one time, a friend of mine coming to watch our game. I think he mostly came to scope out the chicks. Anyway, we were practicing before our game and I was in the outfield, shagging fly balls.


He told me afterwards that he looked away for a few seconds (What did I say about scoping out chicks?) and when he looked back, I was lying on my back in the outfield, a softball lying in the grass not far from my gloved hand. I think he was exaggerating; I don't remember going down to the ground.


That was the first time I was hit in the head area by a fly ball. The second time I was swiftly driven to the hospital to make sure my nose wasn't broken because it was bleeding profusely.


We never took it seriously, so thank God our sponsor wasn't the "must-win-at-all-costs" type.


For example, we in the outfield would get very irate in practice when a ground ball would get through the infield. Sometimes it would knock over one of our bottles of beer. I can still hear the coach yelling, "Forget the beer! Get the ball!"


Our coaches were always a teammate's husband, or brother, or some other poor schnook who probably thought beer would make us better.


Nevertheless, I played softball from the time I was a little girl (I had my own glove and my own bat) to the time I moved away from Flint (to Pontiac, before we moved here). And even then, I reluctantly handed over my bats (had two by then - a wooden one and an aluminum one) to my friend's son.


Could never part with my glove, although I have no idea where it is at this moment.

Alone by the phone

So, once again I tune in the Red Sox game and am only vaguely paying attention. I notice that Jacoby Ellsbury makes another spectacular catch. Very similar to the one he made the other night.

Jon Lester is pitching, again. Then they show the full moon and I'm thinking, "WOW, another full moon ... hey!"

Once again, I have been deceived by one of those "Red Sox Replay" games. They aren't identified as such. And what busy blogger can keep track of the fact that the Red Sox are in Oakland tonight?

Which begs the question, if I'm so busy, what am I doing home on a Friday night, tuning in to 'old' Red Sox games?

That is a rhetorical question, by the way.

Oh, man! Lester pitches a no-hitter

What a game! Is Jon Lester a miracle man, or what?

For those of you who don't know, a 22-year-old Lester in Sept. 2006 was diagnosed with a rare form of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, a blood cancer. Read about it here, from the Boston Globe.

He is the first Red Sox lefty to throw a no-hitter since 1956.

"I've been through a lot these last couple of years," Lester understated immediately after the game. He said later, in the post-game press conference, that it takes a while to set in.

"You don't feel tired in that situation at all," he also said, in answer to a question from the press. (Why do they always ask, "What was going through your mind when ... blah, blah, blah?")

And congratulations to Jason Varitek, the only major league catcher to catch 4 no-hitters.

"You need a catcher who will take it to the house." - former Red Sox ace Dennis Eckersley, in post-game comments.

This is what I love about baseball, football ... sports: I think his teammates were even happier than was Lester. There is nothing like a team.

Go Sox!

I would have paid THEM

So today I got this email from the editor of Merrimack Valley Magazine:

"(The publisher) sent me to photograph a Happenings event this morning- it was extremely last minute (found out about it late yesterday afternoon) and I didn’t want to bother you to get up early for it :) ..." She geos on to ask if I'll write "a snippet" about it anyway.

So far, so good. I hate getting up early. Then I read on:

"The event was a sort of introductory breakfast at Salvatore’s in Lawrence this morning. Red Sox 3rd baseman Mike Lowell was there as a special guest."

Did I ever mention that Mike Lowell is, like, one of my favorite men in the world? No? Well let me tell you, I would not only have arisen at 5 a.m., if necessary, I honestly would have paid the magazine for the chance to be face-to-face with Mike Lowell, if that is what it took.

Rats!

All Quiet on the Eastern Front

After a flurry of huffy comments over on Ari Herzog's blog all has quieted. Everyone must be watching the Red Sox game, which has gone all boring and which is why I'm here doing this with the game on in the background. Just think of all the energy I'm wasting with both the computer and the TV on.

Well, ya know? I've been a fan of baseball ever since I was a sprout. Don't know why; no one else in my family was (then) a fan. I would sit by myself, watching my beloved Detroit Tigers and my cheers echoed off the walls of an otherwise empty room.

Sometimes my mother, who is of English origin, would try to watch but she kept getting confused with her cricket background and would cheer when someone caught a fly ball - I mean, when MY team would be out. She never could get that straight.

Anyway, this big tiger head would come on the screen when a Tiger hit a home run and there would be all this roaring and it was fun. They don't do that anymore.

I remember the first time I went to a game in Tiger Stadium. I was in college, in Ann Arbor, and my friends who were from Detroit invited me to a game. I don't remember exact details (we were probably ... errrr ... in an altered state of consciousness?) but it was good. I do remember people yelling "Hit da ball, Willie!" at slugger Willie Horton.

More recently ... as in 24 years ago ... I was at Tiger Stadium for game 5 of the World Series. Coincidentally, the Tigers won the World Series that night. This I remember vividly. The Roar of '84.

I wasn't alone in '84, though. My sister (the one who lives in Gloucester), her friend and I were there together and were united in outrage, I recall, when the next day the front page of the Detroit News had a full-page photo of Kirk Gibson, heralding him as the hero of the night before.

It was Lance Parrish, the catcher, who actually hit the game-winning homerun.

I still have a Tigers gizmo on my keychain, after all these years of living here in Mass. My Tigers cap was lost when our family's sailboat broke free of its mooring in Gloucester Harbor and was smashed into oblivion on the rocks.

The Tigers in '84 had 2 on-air guys: outfielder Al Kaline of the great '68 team and former third baseman George Kell.

Chet Lemon was up to bat. Now, normally, George did most of the talking. Here's why.

"One strike and no balls on Chet Lemon," Al announced. Honest, he said it. Ask my sister (the one who lives in Gloucester).