Monday, February 17, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
The Baltimore Colts
Falling in Love. Just where does that phrase originate? Somewhere in Paris maybe. Did Romeo slip and fall off the balcony when climbing up to be with his Juliet, and in Shakespeare's head he thought, "He risked life & limb to be with Her, and so the morning dew acted in that vein causing Romeo to fall for his Love. He lay in a bed of flowers below as Juliet looked down upon him, and he knew she was his everything." Or something along those lines:)
The Baltimore Colts were William & Pop Gildea's mutual love. William was a boy when his father introduced him to the team, when they were still wearing the green jersey's from their days in Miami as the Seahawks. When the Colts Belonged to Baltimore is William Gildea's tribute to his father & the team they didn't just root for, but shared a community with back in the days when professional football players were regular joe's. Father & Son bonded over the games at Memorial Stadium and in front of the family television set, spending endless hours recounting great plays and memories that children not yet born would relive through their telling.
I suppose as children we tend to fall for a team the way we fall for a girl when we get a little older. There's an initial introduction by a loved one and then in time a passion is revealed through devotion and care. We look out for their better interests and tell others about the exciting moments we share together. Your team, like a significant other, is at times a joy & occasionally they drive you insane. Nevertheless, the relationship is fulfilling and makes your life more enjoyable than if she or they weren't around.
My own love affair with the team in red & white pin stripes began as a six-year-old, baseball-card-collecting, momma's boy with a Father and Grandma that watched their games religiously. I attended my first game back in September of 1987 when the Phillies played the Mets and we sat in the upper deck of Veteran Stadium. Damn it was cold! But anyway ever since, I've been a devout Phillies fan. I hated seeing Harry go. Games just haven't been the same since 'Harry the K' passed, but I was very glad the Phils captured their second title in '08 before 'the voice' relocated to heaven early next season.
Our relationships with our sports teams become as important as the ones with actual people in our lives. Some of us even spend a little too much time on the games and teams. It's good to have a hobby, but when it becomes an obsession you really should re-evaluate the situation.
I think the most that can be derived from cheering on your team is a sense of community. William Gildea spoke of this in his book. A large group of people from varying backgrounds come together to root, root, root for the home team. The comraderery is especially gratifying when someone you love shares it with you. Sports are a Gathering Place. It's not just men & women playing kid's games. It's people falling in love while watching their team. It's Father's & Son's playing catch in the backyard. It's Mother's & Daughter's at the game together. One day you grow up and realize it was never about the team you were cheering for. It was all about the great times and memories you made with the ones you love, and the folks who wore the same colors as you that cheered so hard, cried, yelled at the tv, high-fived at the stadium and bled for the team, same as you. That's what Sports are all about.
The Baltimore Colts were William & Pop Gildea's mutual love. William was a boy when his father introduced him to the team, when they were still wearing the green jersey's from their days in Miami as the Seahawks. When the Colts Belonged to Baltimore is William Gildea's tribute to his father & the team they didn't just root for, but shared a community with back in the days when professional football players were regular joe's. Father & Son bonded over the games at Memorial Stadium and in front of the family television set, spending endless hours recounting great plays and memories that children not yet born would relive through their telling.
 |
| http://uvmemory.blogspot.com/2013/01/some-cards-are-just-pretty-while-others.html |
I suppose as children we tend to fall for a team the way we fall for a girl when we get a little older. There's an initial introduction by a loved one and then in time a passion is revealed through devotion and care. We look out for their better interests and tell others about the exciting moments we share together. Your team, like a significant other, is at times a joy & occasionally they drive you insane. Nevertheless, the relationship is fulfilling and makes your life more enjoyable than if she or they weren't around.
My own love affair with the team in red & white pin stripes began as a six-year-old, baseball-card-collecting, momma's boy with a Father and Grandma that watched their games religiously. I attended my first game back in September of 1987 when the Phillies played the Mets and we sat in the upper deck of Veteran Stadium. Damn it was cold! But anyway ever since, I've been a devout Phillies fan. I hated seeing Harry go. Games just haven't been the same since 'Harry the K' passed, but I was very glad the Phils captured their second title in '08 before 'the voice' relocated to heaven early next season.
Our relationships with our sports teams become as important as the ones with actual people in our lives. Some of us even spend a little too much time on the games and teams. It's good to have a hobby, but when it becomes an obsession you really should re-evaluate the situation.
I think the most that can be derived from cheering on your team is a sense of community. William Gildea spoke of this in his book. A large group of people from varying backgrounds come together to root, root, root for the home team. The comraderery is especially gratifying when someone you love shares it with you. Sports are a Gathering Place. It's not just men & women playing kid's games. It's people falling in love while watching their team. It's Father's & Son's playing catch in the backyard. It's Mother's & Daughter's at the game together. One day you grow up and realize it was never about the team you were cheering for. It was all about the great times and memories you made with the ones you love, and the folks who wore the same colors as you that cheered so hard, cried, yelled at the tv, high-fived at the stadium and bled for the team, same as you. That's what Sports are all about.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Bryce Harper: First Impression
It's May 27 2012 early in the morning. I've watched this kid hit now for about a month and each time I see a new AB for Bryce Harper I think I am watching greatness. HOW CAN THAT BE!?!?!?! THIS KID IS 19! How can a nineteen-year-old hitter dominate in the major leagues? He hits like Tony Gwynn. Harper sprays the ball to all fields like a seasoned veteran. He hit a home-run in Atlanta to the opposite field alley on a line last night. Atlanta's power-alleys are 390 feet, he hit a low line drive over that fence. I don't know if I'm watching a reincarnate of Lou Gehrig, Stan Musial or a left-handed throwing and hitting version of Willie Mays? But this guy Harper is the real deal for sure.Right now he's only hitting .278, but its the greatest .278 I've ever seen. I guarantee you Tony Gwynn watches this guy hit and just smiles and says, "Wow." His at-bats are unlike any other 19 year old you've ever seen in the Big's. If you watched Barry Bonds hit during his prime HGH years, that is how good Bryce Harper's hitting approach is. He takes pitches that are inches (or maybe quarter-inches) off the strike zone. I swear for the first month I've watched him play, I've watched in complete disbelief. Like, "How is this possible?"
A month ago I was gushing at how good Matt Kemp is. Now I'm watching Bryce Harper in his first year, at 19, and I'm thinking there is no ceiling for this kid. He already stole home on Cole Hamels after Hamels hit him intentionally in the first inning on the first pitch. Hamels admitted he did it on purpose after the game and got suspended. Harper stole home on Hamels as if to say, "That's all you got Cole?"
3 HRs, 10 RBIs, a .278 average and a .366 on base% never looked so damn good as they do for Bryce Harper's first 26 games in the Major Leagues. He runs, throws, hits, competes and interacts with the field of play as if he knows he is the best player, not only on the field but in the entire game. I know this sounds like hype. I know this article sounds like an over-excited column about a ball-player having a great first month, but no one can deny what we're seeing. This is not hyperbole, this is reality. Bryce Harper believes that no one on a baseball field can touch him.
Right now the numbers are not great. They don't even project into a 'rookie of the year' type season. But when you watch Bryce Harper play, when you watch him hit or run the bases or make a throw from the outfield, U CAN SEE IT. The guy IS better than everyone else on the field. Ok, his stats probably won't prove him to be the best this year... but next year and the year after, watch out. Bryce Harper's talent is freakish. You know how Lebron James fills a stat sheet like no other & how his player efficiency is tops by far. Bryce Harper will fill stat sheets just like that. The new statistical ratings that measure player efficiency like Wins Above Replacement (WAR) will prove Harper to be a top 10 player as soon as this year.
Is a slump even possible for a guy with an approach this good? It's not as if he's tearing the cover off the ball at .278. I just can't remember seeing a batter hit a baseball better. Not for power, but for sheer hitting ability. For pure batting skill and swing fluidity. For a 19 year old to possess this type of prowess is astounding. He won't have the best numbers in baseball this year, but for talent level and overall ability, he just might be the best player in the game. ALREADY.
Update: Ok Mike Trout is better.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
THROWBACKS
They didn't turn their shoulders & aim for the chest. They didn't keep their heads-up when a wide-receiver came across the middle. If a running-back broke through the line, they weren't going to hit him low. These guys were taught to go for the head. You think a Legion of Boom is tough with their loud crowd? Well put the children to bed, cuz the THROWBACKS make these latte-drinkin' Momma's boys look soft as labial tissue.
Dick "Night Train" Lane, Jack Tatum, Jack Lambert and Ronnie Lott were the hardest hitting Linebacker's & Safety's the NFL had ever produced. They didn't just make tackles, they inflicted punishment on opponents. In a time when the only cameras on an NFL field were that of NFL Films, the lone objective was not to make SportsCenter, but to make your adversary regret the day he signed up for this shit. You can almost feel the pain & taste the blood.
We no longer celebrate the mass destruction of professional athletes the way we used to. We're more humane & educated now. But every now and again an NFL player delivers a hit. I MEAN A REAL, FUCKING HIT where the defender gets low and sends a shockwave through the helmet all the way down the sideline. Every coach and teammate feels it. Today it costs you $50,000 but you still get the respect. You still command the fear. Everyone gets so hype they roar like a Lion standing over a kill. Just ask James Harrison.
Maybe it's better this way. Afterall, arthritis in the legs is better than not knowing where you were 5 minutes ago. The Game has changed as far as intent, but you still have to make the tackle, you still have to run hard.
The players of old will never apologize for the way they played football, nor should they. The NFL was different back then. Today, it's still a great game... just a bit more vaginal. XOXOXO
Dick "Night Train" Lane, Jack Tatum, Jack Lambert and Ronnie Lott were the hardest hitting Linebacker's & Safety's the NFL had ever produced. They didn't just make tackles, they inflicted punishment on opponents. In a time when the only cameras on an NFL field were that of NFL Films, the lone objective was not to make SportsCenter, but to make your adversary regret the day he signed up for this shit. You can almost feel the pain & taste the blood.
We no longer celebrate the mass destruction of professional athletes the way we used to. We're more humane & educated now. But every now and again an NFL player delivers a hit. I MEAN A REAL, FUCKING HIT where the defender gets low and sends a shockwave through the helmet all the way down the sideline. Every coach and teammate feels it. Today it costs you $50,000 but you still get the respect. You still command the fear. Everyone gets so hype they roar like a Lion standing over a kill. Just ask James Harrison.
 |
| http://uvmemory.blogspot.com/2013/01/cheese.html |
The players of old will never apologize for the way they played football, nor should they. The NFL was different back then. Today, it's still a great game... just a bit more vaginal. XOXOXO
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
The Biblical Mandible
At 92 years of age this man of many stories walks into a room filled with people. Most of them are only half his age and never even witnessed one of his glorious fights. The Children are only privy to the tales told by their fathers and uncles about "The Bronx Bull," but I get the feeling today he might be inspired to share a past experience of his days at the top of the middle-weight division or the time he spent with Hollywood's elite.Jake LaMotta fought 106 professional fights in only 13 years (1941-1954). At the height of his boxing career in 1949 he won the National Boxing Association Middleweight Title. LaMotta fought Sugar Ray Robinson, who many consider as the "pound-for-pound" greatest fighter ever, 6 times. He only defeated Robinson once, but was never knocked down in their fights. In fact, LaMotta's lone suffered knock-down occurred against Danny Nardico in 1952. No one was able to take a punch like "The Raging Bull." Boxing Announcers described his chin as "the granite jaw" & "the biblical mandible."
He sits at the table, signs his John Hancock and shakes hands with every extended paw. The old man still commands the room and smiles at the faces of kids who don't know his name, but will someday. One patron brought a picture of The Champ with Paul Newman from the 1961 film, The Hustler. Jake smiled and said, "What a classy guy that Pauly."
Amazing this man is still going strong after all the years. He's got a website, a fiancee and plenty of Bronx-charm to go around. Jake LaMotta is best known
for fighting, but his stage and business careers have been just as successful. His name and face are recogizable by any sport-loving American. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. LaMotta. Thank you Sir for being so Great.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)