Diary of a Diehard

It has been said that nearly all domestic accidents happen around the home. Accidents have varying degrees of importance. Some can do bodily harm while others can produce mental anguish. In my case, there are also those accidents that can cause large amounts of ridicule from my family. Today I had one of those accidents. This afternoon, after a full day of working on the honey-do list, I was tired and thirsty. As is usually the case, I went to the refrigerator to get a pop only to find that all of the cold ones were gone. There was a whole case of warm pop, but who really wants that. So instead of waiting for one to cool down, or heaven forbid add ice to the pop I did what every other guy does. I put a can in the freezer. I had all intention of going back to retrieve it, I just got busy. So I am sitting in the kitchen contemplating how Mike Morgan could possibly still be pitching at his age when I heard a loud POP coming from the freezer. I quietly move to the fridge and carefully open the freezer door. I am not sure what I expected. I have never had aliens attack my frozen food so I doubt that is why I was so tentative in opening the door. When I did open it, there sat my can of pop, the top of it perfectly blown out. It looked very similar to the pictures I have seen of Mount St. Helens just after it erupted. I quickly tried to clean up the mess before my wife and kids could see but the root beer ooze was everywhere. The kids laughed their heads off at my predicament. Trina was in a much less jovial mood. Instead, she retrieved the “honey-do” list from my pocket and begin to fill it up again. It really wasn’t my fault. I think the can was defective. I think I will write to A and W to complain about their quality control.

My friend John Fischer moved away today. He and his family are moving to Denver Colorado. He and I have known each other for three years and have become pretty close. He only had two vices, one he was a Denver Broncos fan and made sure everyone knew it. Second, he was cursed. This was not your normal everyday curse, this was huge! During the inaugural season of the Diamondbacks, John went to nearly 20 games. At each of those games, the Diamondbacks lost. He and I tried everything to break this curse. We looked up mojo on the Internet and tried several things to break the streak of bad luck he was giving the team. He doesn’t know this, but I even went so far as to go to his house in the dead of the night and dance the mojo dance and bury a chicken (all I could get that late was KFC) in his front yard. In 1999, his streak continued. It got so bad that fans would send John to get beer just so the game would be close. John is a great guy and I will miss his company and his sense of humor. But I won’t miss the extended losing streaks that he caused. As a last farewell, we went to lunch at Bank One Ballpark and he got to look around one last time. It’s been a great run John, now go and destroy the Colorado Rockies hopes for a pennant!

I have been collecting baseball cards since I was a kid. I am in no way a serious collector. I buy a pack of cards a few times a year, mostly looking for Arizona Diamondbacks players. Today I happened to see that the Upper Deck 2000 Series I Baseball Cards were now available as I stood in line at the grocery store. Being the perfect impulse buyer that I am, I grabbed a couple of packs and put them in my cart. When I got home, I opened the packs and found that I had a Luis Gonzalez card. I was pretty jazzed. Getting this card reminded me of collecting cards as a child. I bought the cards mostly for the gum but I was also interested in getting cards of my favorite players. Because these were cards of my baseball heroes, I didn’t think of them as an investment. Those players who I could care less about, their cards became perfect accessories for my bicycle as I would clothes pin them to make noise in the spokes. When the cards became sufficiently bent, they would be discarded. I think back to the number of Nolan Ryan rookie cards that must have gone through my spokes or the limited Mickey Mantle cards that were destroyed and I now think about the thousands of dollars that are gone. Even the cards I held dear to my heart have been lost or thrown away by a ruthless mother who was more interested in a clean sock drawer than saving for my retirement. I sit and watch as Regis Philbin asks insane questions to socially deliquent geeks who used to be pummeled for their lunch money and I think that maybe I used to be a millionaire. But I traded the fame and fortune so that my bike would sound like a motorcycle.

With the lack of news coming from the Arizona Diamondbacks, you have to wonder if maybe Jerry Colangelo gave the team the winter off after all the hard work they put in last year. Since the first of January, the Arizona Diamondbacks have posted only two transactions and neither of them were related to the product on the field. All transactions have involved the front office with Bryan Lambe being named a special assistant to the general manager, Scott Geyer was hired as vice president of broadcasting and Gina Giallonardo as the director of marketing. While these are important posts to be filled, it doesn’t especially enthuse the fans to start buying tickets to next year’s games. Given the holes and questions still surrounding the team after their premature exit from last year’s play-offs, you have to wonder if Colangelo’s heart is still based in basketball.

Continue reading ‘Hello? Is Anyone Home?’ »

Tonight, Trina and the two older girls had an activity planned leaving me to take care of the three younger children (Tiffany [9], Whitney [6], and Dakota [2]). I am figuring this is part of my punishment from the Precious Moments episode earlier. As Trina was leaving the house she informed me, “You need to go to take the kids shopping for new bedspreads and sheets before the new bunk bed arrives tomorrow.” Oh, great. Besides baby-sitting, I also have to help pick out bedding. How hard can this be? All sheets and comforters look the same, right? I was so naive. As I arrived at Target, I found myself surrounded by Martha Stewart wannabes each looking for the perfect ensemble. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally looked at the cart to find a bizarre assortment of sheets, blankets, bedspreads, pillows, curtains, shams, and pillowcases. Now I don’t profess to be a genius but I am smart enough to know that if I went home with this mess I would be killed. Somehow, I needed to color coordinate everything while making the kids happy. After negotiations that would make the Arab-Israel peace talks pale in comparison, we finally settled on a single matching set of bedroom accessories perfect for any child’s room. Each of the girls and Dakota have matching baseball comforters with sheets and pillows having bats and balls on them. I even went so far as to find Arizona Diamondback wallpaper border for their room and paint that is the perfect match of the baseball bats in the wallpaper. We left the store all pretty happy. Me with three arms full of bedding and the kids each with an Icee and a King Size candy bar. I can’t wait to show Trina how well I did with this assignment.

In this day and age, baseball players change teams more often than Dennis Rodman changes hair color. The Free Agent Era has produced a boon in several industries. For example, with all the player movement fans are nearly required to buy a game day program just to see who is now on the roster. The team seamstress is now making overtime as well sewing on all of the names of the new players. With the changes, there is also a need for the media to meet and greet these new players. For better or worse, this also gives the players a chance to speak to reporters and give the fans a glimpse into their personalities and thoughts. Sometimes this is good, sometimes it isn’t so good. In the past week, two former Arizona Diamondbacks players were signed by other teams and as part of their signings, they took the opportunity to take some pot shots at their old team and its fans.

Continue reading ‘Would You Like Some Cheese with that Whine?’ »

Today was the announcement of who was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame for the class of 2000. I was at work when word arrived that Carlton Fisk and Tony Perez were elected. These two players will forever be linked to the 1975 World Series in my mind. I can still remember watching Game 6 of the series from my hospital bed. I was 15 years old at the time and it was the day before I was to go in for surgery. I had been playing football and happened to get my finger stuck between two helmets shattering the joint on my middle finger. I was pretty lucky, at least it wasn’t my pitching hand. I sat in the bed, glued to the television as the game went extra innings. When Fisk came up in the bottom of the 12th, I like everyone in the country cheered and leaned to try and help the ball stay fair as it sailed above the green monster. Doctors and nurses were all in the room cheering as it hit the foul pole and Fisk rounded the bases. That experience helped me get through a rough period of time in my life. I would like to say I remembered Perez homering in game seven to help Cincinnati win the series but I was experiencing better living through chemistry. It seemed appropriate that they should enter the Hall of Fame together.

My off-season education continued again today. It was kind of cold outside as the temperature only got to the mid-sixties. (Hey, it was cold to us so I don’t want to hear any comments from anyone. You don’t hear me questioning your stories about how you fought polar bears on your way to school with your spiral notebooks.) So instead of playing outside, Dakota and I decided to play catch in the house. Now growing up, my mother used to give me a lot of advice. I learned there were millions of starving kids in China that would kill for half-eaten lima beans. I know that if I make a weird face that it will freeze that way. I am well aware of the consequences of putting house flies in the microwave. But mostly, I was told never to play ball in the house. As I have grown older (notice I did not say up), I have challenged each of these rules. Today was my final test. Dakota and I set up across the room and began to quietly throw the ball back and forth. It seemed innocent enough, but one thing led to another and I must have gotten a little carried away. I threw the ball to Dakota and he should have caught it, but he didn’t. Instead, it bounced off of his little head and went straight for the Precious Moments figurine. Now I have watched enough baseball that I should have been able to do a diving catch at the wall, but after hurdling Dakota and sliding face first into the couch, I barely missed the catch. It seems the figurine isn’t quite so precious any more. I think that little girl looks perfectly ok without a head but I seem to be the only one. I spent the remainder of the day attempting to remove Super Glue from between my stuck fingers while staring at a headless girl with a duck. I am pretty disappointed in the Super Glue company. Her head won’t stay attached. On the commercial, that guy’s hard hat was stuck to the bottom of that girder and it worked great. Maybe if I stuck a G.I. Joe helmet on the Precious Moments doll it would work. That is enough writing, it is hard to type with only eight fingers.

January is always the darkest month for a baseball fan. It is far enough away from last season to make you begin to forget what happened and it is close enough to Spring Training to make you think it will never come. This is the time when most of the free agents have signed or determined where they will sign and teams are not willing to deal until Spring Training starts. This coupled with the fact that the only thing there is to watch on television is football and college basketball. I am beginning to pace the floor waiting for baseball. I think I have hit rock bottom. This afternoon I watched the Disney movie Angels in the Outfield and actually began to root for Anaheim. The sad part of this is that I have seen that movie about a hundred times. At least it was baseball. Oh how I long for the game of the week. If only I would have gotten the express written consent of Major League Baseball and the Arizona Diamondbacks so that I could rebroadcast the entirety or a part of the telecast of a single Diamondbacks baseball game. Curse the commissioner’s office and his legal cronies! Now where did I put that DVD of A League of Their Own. Nothing quite says baseball like Madonna.