February 2000 Archives

February 29, the day that reminds us that everyone makes mistakes. I mean, if the time and calendar guys can't figure out exactly how long a year is, why should we care that we make a few mistakes or don't know everything we should. This day is always a day of retrospect for me. I take time to ponder all the things I don't understand. Now I don't profess to be a rocket scientist, and there are more than a few things that confuse me. For example, we can develop a microwave oven that heats things from frozen to steaming in 1 minute flat and yet we can't develop a reverse microwave that will take things from steaming hot to frozen solid in the same amount of time. Another one that always confused me was why hot dogs are sold in packages of 12 while hot dog buns are sold in packages of 8? Are there really 4 people who don't want their hot dogs surrounded by bread? If so, what do these people do at the ballgame? I have eaten my share of hot dogs at the game and I have never seen anyone ask the vendor for a dog without a bun. Where do these people live? The other thing that always bothered me was why all beverages only come in even servings? Every can of pop, juice, water, regardless of the size of the container is always an even number ounces. Could this be what happened to all of my elementary school classmates that were absent the day we learned about odd numbers? I'm telling you, don't try to buck the system on this one. I have tried on numerous occasions and people just don't want to deal with it. Don't take my word for it though, try it next time you go out to eat. Ask the waitress for a 15 ounce beverage, not a 12 ounce nor a 16 ounce, tell her you want 15 ounces. She will completely freak out. I have had more waitresses go on break while serving my table than I care to remember. At first I thought it was a coincidence that they went on break while I was eating so I started going to restraunts and different times. Sure enough, they would take my order, I would request an odd number of ounces in my drink and the next thing I knew they were on break and a new waitress would complete my order. I cannot prove it, but I think they were just having problems with the odd number of ounces in my drink. There are many of these imponderables that I hope to explore. It's probably a good thing this day only comes once every four years.

There are a handful of days that stand out in a baseball fan's life, Spring Training report day, first Spring Training game, Opening Day, All-Star break, first day of the playoffs, first World Series game, and Fantasy Baseball draft day. Well, today was one of those days. It was the annual draft for the Cactus League Cast-offs fantasy league and I was prepared and ready to go. Looking at the draft order, I was in uncharted territory. I had the number three pick in the draft. It means that after Pedro Martinez and Randy Johnson are picked, it is up to me to set the tone of the draft. Do I go for the number three best pitcher or do I stock my team with high-octane hitters? Such a quandary. I paced the floor trying to solidify my strategy. As the commissioner called my name, I was on the clock. I settled with a strategy that would send ripples among the other owners. I selected Alex Rodriguez with my pick. This sent the other owners scrambling to pick up the other high-powered shortstops and when the first round was finished, the only positions drafted were starting pitchers and shortstops. I was now in a groove. I began picking hitter after hitter, not drafting a pitcher until the fourth round. When all twenty-five rounds were complete, my roster looked like this:
Catchers Jason Kendall (PIT), Todd Hundley (LA)
First Basemen Carlos Delgado (TOR), Mo Vaughn (ANA)
Second Basemen Edgardo Alfonzo (NYM), Jeff Kent (SF)
Third Basemen Jeff Cirillo (COL), Troy Glaus (ANA)
Shortstop Alex Rodriguez (SEA), Miguel Tejada (OAK)
Outfielders Ken Griffey Jr. (CIN), Brian Jordan (ATL), Barry Bonds (SF), Jeromy Burnitz (MIL), Roger Cedeno (HOU), Moises Alou (HOU)
Starting Pitchers Tom Glavine (ATL), Brad Radke (MIN), Al Leiter (NYM), Roger Clemens (NYY), Livian Hernandez (SF), Kris Benson (PIT), Brian Anderson (AZ)
Relief Pitchers Trevor Hoffman (SD), Jeff Shaw (LA)

As the draft ended, I felt pretty good with my selections. My pitching isn't quite what I had in mind before the draft, but they should be respectable. This was a good day.

One of the reasons I decided to get a dog was for Dakota. Having never been around dogs in his life, he was one scared two-year-old. I couldn't let him be afraid of a dog. We had looked at a lot of breeds but none seemed to fit as much as a Basset Hound. My grandpa once described these dogs as half a dog high and two dogs long. Anything this funny looking could never breed fear in a child. So far, Dakota has proven me wrong. If Dog Dot Com comes anywhere near him, he freaks completely out. If these two were going to ever hit it off, I was going to have to step in. I did the one thing that I knew would bring a kid and a dog together, I brought out a baseball. Now I didn't expect a two-year-old boy and a nine-week-old puppy to immediately become friends or even start playing ball effectively and I wasn't disappointed. After hitting each of them in the head a couple of times with the ball, I quickly decided we needed to switch to a softer ball. At the end of an hour of playing catch, I am happy to report someone has been trained to play ball, me. The both have got me throwing the ball and then retrieving it. When I bring it back, Dakota cheers and Dog Dot Com wags her tail. I am beginning to wonder who is smarter, me or the kid and the dog. In the end though, it was all worth it. Dakota has made a new friend and they are both out in the back yard together constantly. Every hour or so, they will both come find me in the house and ask if I will come out and play ball some more. There is nothing quite like a boy and his dog to make life complete.

Today, I took the kids to the Milwaukee Brewers Spring Training Fan Fest at the Maryvale stadium. We had a lot of fun as the kids were able to obtain several of the Milwaukee Brewers player's autographs. Tiffany took part in an on-field baseball clinic sponsored by the Major League Baseball Players Alumni Association. There she was able to receive instruction and tips from several former players on different aspects of the game. She had a wonderful time and learned quite a lot from these players. There was a card show at the stadium so Dakota and I spent a lot of time wandering around the booths looking at the various cards. Mallorie spent most of her time talking to the current Brewers players and getting their autographs. Whitney was mostly interested in the balloons and eating. She downed two hot dogs and numerous treats and was thrilled to get a couple of packages of Pokemon cards. Trina took the time to take pictures and was able to go down on the playing field with Tiffany to snap photographs of her going through the drills. While she was on the field, she had the opportunity to meet Ferguson Jenkins, the Hall of Fame pitcher from the Chicago Cubs. I used to watch Fergie pitch quite often as I grew up a closet Cubs fan. I can remember spending Saturday mornings watching the game of the week. The Cubs seemed to be on a lot and Ferguson was always pitching. He was one of my idols. Trina knew this and approached Mr. Jenkins and told him my story. To my surprise and delight, Trina and Ferguson Jenkins came to where I was standing and I was able to talk with him and have my picture taken with one of my childhood heroes. He finished our visit by autographing a baseball for me. It was one of the great moments of my life. Trina never ceases to amaze me as she goes out of her way to make my dreams become realities. Ferguson Jenkins may have been my childhood hero, but Trina has become my adult hero.

We lived in Idaho before moving to Arizona six years ago. While living there, we owned two Basset Hounds. The first was a male that I bought for Trina for our first anniversary, his name was Bandit. Bandit lived to be eleven years old before we had to have him put to sleep due to an injury he sustained. A year after his passing, we bought another Basset Hound. I was not yet ready for another dog but after a lot of coaxing by the family, I relented on the condition that I got to name the dog. When we brought our new puppy home, I named him Bone Crusher. The kids were horrified and determined to call him BC for short. That didn't quite fit him so I added to his name and he became Bone Crusher Hammer Man or BC Hammer for short. When we decided to move to Arizona, we did not have a place for BC so we decided to sell him. It just so happened that the people who came to look at the dog also liked the house and bought them both. On moving day, we said good-bye to BC, sent him to the backyard and moved out. The other owners moved in and let BC back into the house. To this day the dog is probably trying to figure out what happened. As we moved to Arizona, Trina vowed to never have another dog. She and BC were not exactly on speaking terms when they left. The kids and I had asked for a new dog but Trina has always put her foot down on this subject. That is, until today. We were shopping for my brother's birthday present when we happened to walk by a pet store. There in the window was the cutest little female Basset Hound we had ever seen. After holding her for a while, we decided maybe it was time to have another dog. I once again made the stipulation that I got to name the dog. After the last round, the family was less lenient and decided they had a veto vote on the name I chose. After working through all of the baseball terms I had, I could not come up with an appropriate name. Each suggestion I had was met with a resounding no. Squeeze Bunt was denied as were Homer, Grand Slam, and Infield Fly Rule. In desparation, I came up with a brilliant name, I will call her Dog.com. It is perfect, or so I thought. Trina and the kids were horrified at the name. I tried to explain that she would be the first dog in the AKC with her own domain name but they were apalled. As a compromise, I have agreed to allow them to call her Dottie. Besides, that is the name of the main character of A League of Their Own, a baseball movie about women's baseball. I'll have to give this more thought but I think I may have a winner.

Besides never missing a Diamondbacks home game, I do have other interests. I am also involved in a couple of Fantasy Baseball Leagues. This is usually difficult for me since I struggle when one of my Fantasy players are playing against the Diamondbacks. Last year, it got so bad that Trina made me trade a couple of players and promise not to play anyone against the Diamondbacks during games that she was attending. She seems to think that I get a little crazy when I have Diamondbacks players playing against Fantasy players. I would have to agree with her. Today, the leagues I am involved with filled up which means it is time for the draft. My first draft is scheduled for Monday morning while the other draft is on Wednesday. I went to the book store tonight and bought every stats book I could find that covered the 1999 baseball season. I will be hovered around the computer developing draft strategies for the next several days, trying to find that elusive secret weapon that will propel my team into first place. Fantasy baseball is one of the great inventions of the twentieth century. The ability for fans to own and operate their own franchises is the ultimate dream. Now let me see, if I have the first pick in the draft, should I go for starting pitching or an awesome hitter?

Trina of course had plans for this evening and once again these plans did not include me. I was once again asked to keep the three younger kids (Tiffany, Whitney, and Dakota) while Trina went out with the two older girls (Ashley and Mallorie). Her last words as she walked out the door were, "The kids have not eaten and they need to be in bed early." Well, that is what she claimed she said. What I actually heard was, "Take the kids to McDonalds and then you can take them to the store and get some treats." While Trina was gone, the kids and I went out to play. We stopped at McDonald's and ate Happy Meals until the smile on our faces became permanent. From there we went over to the mall and checked out the new sporting goods before ending the night with a trip to Krispy Kreme donuts for a last minute snack. We were all in a great mood and never wanted to see the evening end. When we finally got home, there were the three older members of the family standing at the garage door waiting for us. "Where have you been?" we were asked. As I explained all the places we went, I could see Trina's patience become less and less. Now given that I had shown the kids such a good time, I felt that I had the upper hand. After all, they would never turn on their dad in the face of a little adversity would they? You better believe it. By the time they got done, they were singing like song birds turning states evidence against their father. To hear them tell it, I had held them at gun point and forced them to each candy while they begged to please have vegetables and other nutritional foods. I could see there was no way to win this, I guess I will listen to the lecture and call it a night. On an up note, a couple more nights like tonight and I should be eliminated from having to baby-sit ever again.

For all the grief I give Trina, she has got to be the greatest wife a guy could ever have. Sometimes I portray her as less than sympathetic but given that she has to put up with me every day, she is a saint. I'm sure that in most cases, she believes she has six children rather than five kids and a husband. For the past several months, I have been constantly bugging her. Through a lot of detective work, I have found the business which made the seats for Bank One Ballpark. Given that I have sat in these seats and watched 166 games so far, you would think I would be tired of them. On the contrary, I find myself missing my seat and wishing I could get into the ballpark just to hang around in them. Trina has been asking for a new dining room set for quite some time and our chairs are getting pretty bad. I have suggested in the past that we get some Diamondback seats and set them around the table. I thought it would be pretty cool. I was alone in that thought. Regardless, I have been relentless in efforts to get some of these seats for the house. After all, I already have the seat cushions so they would be quite comfortable. Today was the last straw. Trina needed to take some film in to be developed but she needed directions to get to the photo lab. She called from her cell phone and I walked her through directions. Little did she know that the directions I gave her actually sent her to the seat manufacturer (hey, it was on the way for crying out loud!) At first, she saw little humor in this situation but in the end, she exacted her revenge. She bought two seats as a surprise for my birthday next month. She brought them home and set them up so that I could see them. She placed them so that there is no way I can get to them until my birthday so now I have to sit and look at them for three weeks without touching them. This is almost more than a guy can stand. Regardless, I still love her. Now if only she would allow me to make the roof on our house retract. That would be way cool!

As President's Day arrives, I am reminded of my time in Elementary School. Of course back then, we actually celebrated two birthdays. George Washington first and then Abraham Lincoln. With each birthday, we would dress up in period costumes made of colored construction paper and make hats. My favorite was the three corner hat. I always seemed to get in trouble though when I attempted to chop down the trees out in front of the school. The day always ended with the teacher asking us what we would do if we were President? Even at that early age, I had no aspirations of being president. I had my sights set much higher than the Commander-in-chief of the free world. I wanted to be Commissioner of Baseball. That is where the real power laid. Where else could you suspend ballplayers and fine them undisclosed amounts of money or at the drop of a hat decide that pitchers no longer had to bat for themselves? I would just like to see Bill Clinton attempt to mandate the starting of spring training. Everyone would just laugh at him. No, I think being Commissioner of baseball be the coolest job in the world.

While down at Bank One Ballpark yesterday, members of the Diamondbacks community relations department were walking along the line of people waiting to buy tickets and handing out a preliminary list of promotional dates the Diamondbacks would be having this year. I collected a copy of this and went about my business not thinking much more about it. When I got home, the I placed the list on the kitchen counter and worked on the camera. Today, I was sitting reading the paper when I noticed someone standing in front of me. Looking up, I saw Mallorie standing there with the promotions listing in her hand. "Where did you get this?" she asked. I explained that they were handing them out at the ballpark. As I was telling the story, Tiffany and Ashley joined into the conversation. By the time I had finished recounting the events from yesterday, all of the kids were standing there in front of me. I was impressed that my story telling ability could gather such a crowd, then I realized that they had quit listening to me a long time ago. They were now jockeying for position to try and see what was being given away at which game. They were now each yelling dibs for specific games and trading dates with each other while calculating the amount of swag they were going to collect. During all of this, Trina was standing in the back, reading the calendar yelling days of the week as the kids called out dates. She was quickly writing names to the dates as they were finalized. The entire sight was comical to watch. During it all, Dakota sat on my lap looking up at me with his Diamondbacks hat on. "I want to go to the ballgame dad." I'm beginning to think I should have stood in line and got a few more tickets yesterday.

After being at the ballpark yesterday, I decided that maybe I should go down again today. I had already gotten the tickets that I needed so there really wasn't a need to, but why waste a perfectly good excuse to hang out at Bank One Ballpark. When Trina asked where I was going and why, I made up some excuse about wanting to get a few pictures for the web site. She bought it and I was on my way. The crowd yesterday was estimated at around 3,000 people spread out over four or five hours it wasn't to bad. Today couldn't possibly be worse, right? Wrong! There were people everywhere. Tickets were to go on sale at 10:00 AM this morning. At 7:00 AM people were already in line. When I got there about 10:30, the line already stretched further than yesterday. People had lawn chairs, blankets, sleeping bags, and about anything else to keep them comfortable. It was amazing. I walked around stopping every so often to take a couple of snapshots. People were obviously confused at a guy with a camera taking pictures of them standing in line. It wasn't quite clear who was more crazy, them for standing in line or me for taking their picture. I wish I had a dime for every time someone asked me why I was taking pictures, I would have paid for my season tickets. After a couple of hours of fun and wandering around, I left and went home. My camera showed I had taken 25 pictures. I would change rolls of film at home, get these developed and have the pictures on the web by tonight. I rewound the film and opened the back of the camera. There I was greeted with an empty magazine. "Oh", Trina said, "I forgot to tell you. The kids used all of your film and you need to reload it before you take any more pictures." I guess I know now who the crazy one was this morning.

Tomorrow single game tickets go on sale to the general public. Today they go on sale to season ticket holders and members of the Diamondbackers Frequent Fang program. I had long decided that I would take the whole family to Opening Day this year so I loaded Trina into the car and headed down to Bank One Ballpark. I didn't really think to much about it. I mean, how many people could there really be waiting for tickets on a Friday morning. Evidently, there are a lot. We parked at the ballpark and walked towards the ticket windows. It was then I realized that perhaps I had misjudged the turn out. The line seemed to stretch longer than a game pitched by Armando Reynoso. When we finally reached the end of the line, it had stretched from one end of the block, around the corner to the other end of the stadium. We were well past the entrance to Friday's Front Row grill and the hopes of obtaining tickets to opening day were quickly fading. I'm sure Trina was not real thrilled about spending the morning and most of the afternoon standing in line but she held up like the trooper that she is. I on the other hand became bored early and left line on numerous occasions to check things out. I went into Friday's so that I could look over the field. The grass is completely gone and they are preparing to re-sod maybe as early as next week. I went to the team shop and looked around making Trina a list for my upcoming birthday. I stopped by the ball sculpture in the plaza to watch the balls roll around and bounce from section to section. After waiting in line for the equivalent of an Andy Benes complete game (2 hours 47 minutes), we finally made our way to the ticket window. I meekly asked, "Do you have any tickets left to opening day?" "Yes", the Ticket Representative said, "Where would you like to sit?" "I don't care, I already have tickets." I replied only to be not-so-gently nudged by my wife. "Oh, I mean what is the best available seating you have because nothing is to good for my family." I proclaimed. At that point, Trina decided she had better take over negotiations before this got out of hand. We were able to obtain tickets in Section 319, Row 16-17, Seats 1-3. I attempted to help telling the Ticket Representative, "I spoke to Luis Gonzalez last week, he said to mention his name and you would upgrade our seats." After much laughter, he stated, "Good one. I saw Luis just yesterday and he didn't mention you." Rats, that never works. If I ever do meet Luis Gonzalez I am going to ask him for a note to help me get tickets. I don't want a favor, I just want to see the look on the face of the customer service people when I show it to them. Upon getting the tickets, I did the Spring Training jig at the ticket window, kissed the tickets, and thanked the stunned Ticket Representative before leaving. Trina merely stood there in shock, her face red from embarrassment. Now I just have to wait 46 days for the game to get here.

Ah, I have survived another off-season. Given this accomplishment, I crawl out of bed and quickly dress in my best Diamondbacks gear and head out the door for work. I still do not understand why we are required to work on such a momentous day. After all, the beginning of Spring Training is much more important than some of these other so-called national holiday. I mean come on, don't you think that celebrating the beginning of our national pastime is of greater significance than celebrating women giving birth? Exactly how is any warm-blooded American sports fan supposed to get into Labor Day while ignoring something as monumental as grown men throwing a baseball back and forth after a six month hiatus? These are the kind of thoughts that separate the human mind from that of the common ape. I am eternally grateful that somewhere in past generations that my ancestors decided that opposable thumbs would be much more useful than a sixth toe and evolved appropriately. As I arrived at work, I greeted everyone I came in contact with and wished them a Happy Spring Training Reporting Day. Those individuals who were knowledgable enought to recognize this date as the holiday that it is, thanked me and reciprocated. Those a little lower on the mental food chain simply looked blankly into space no doubt wondering why those pictures of Uncle Larry in their family album looked remarkably close to the sketches of the missing link Darwin kept referring to. I could hardly wait to get home tonight to see what kind of celebration Trina had planned. I was counting on having our traditional Spring Training Reporting Day feast of hot dogs and peanuts. Imagine my surprise when we had chicken? I gave Trina my best Ward Cleaver look as I had to remind her what today was. Forgetting a day like this, boy she must feel so foolish. I mean I could have seen her forgetting something trivial like our Anniversary after all, I forget that nearly every year but this is important. Looks like her priorities aren't quite set correctly yet.

With pitchers and catchers reporting on February 17, the off-season officially comes to a close. Now it is time to get down to business and that is exactly what the Diamondbacks have done in the week leading up to report day. The Diamondbacks now have all players under contract including all those who were eligible for salary arbitration. Going into the off-season, the Diamondbacks had four players where were eligible for arbitration. These players were Brian Anderson, Matt Mantei, Andy Fox, and Brad Clontz. It was reported earlier here that Anderson signed a three year deal with the club. This was followed by Matt Mantei signing a one year deal with the Diamondbacks with the team and Matt agreeing to continue to work on a long term deal. Andy Fox was the next to sign when he also agreed to a one year deal. The final player to sign was pitcher Brad Clontz who signed a one year deal the day before his scheduled salary arbitration hearing. With these players under contract, the Diamondbacks can now focus on the task at hand, getting ready for the upcoming season.

This is one of those red letter calendar days that is filled with anticipation. As a kid, there were a few holidays that were more special than others. Who can forget the butterflies and excitement surrounding Christmas Eve when you just knew you were going to get that G.I. Joe with the life-like hair and the kung-fu grip? Or what about the night before Thanksgiving when you knew that morning would bring the Macy's Day parade and the chance for an 80-foot balloon to come loose and terrorize New York City? Well these all compare to what a baseball fan feels the day before Spring Training begins. Just think, tomorrow will mark the official beginning of baseball 2000. Pitchers and catchers will emerge from hibernation to begin loosening their arms and tightening their belts as they begin to get ready for another 162 games. I am giddy as a school girl waiting for pitchers and catchers to begin tossing the ball around. I am already feeling a little ill and may have to take off from work tomorrow to watch them play catch. I can see already that I am not going to get much sleep tonight. I may have to resort to counting fly balls (real baseball fans don't count sheep) to get myself to sleep. Before going to bed, I carefully lay out my best Diamondbacks shirt to wear tomorrow when I get up. I put on my baseball pajamas and settle down to watch Field of Dreams one more time. I can hardly wait.

Well, I finally have all of the pieces of my new computer system. I have all of my files transferred from the old system to the new. I have all of the new peripherals installed and working. All that is left is to place the pieces in my desk and get to work. I moved the desk which in and of itself is no easy task since it weighs about 350 pounds. Once pulled away from the walls, I took my old computer apart and moved it upstairs for the kids use. I then began the task of installing the new system. How hard can this be. I should be done in a couple of minutes and have all evening to see who was going to marry that millionaire on television. I started off with the easy part, the monitor. As I began to move it into place I found that the 19 inch monitor was a lot larger than the 17 inch I had before. I found that it did not want to fit very well. Not to be outdone by a piece of furniture, I nudged it into place with man's best friend. No, I didn't hit it with a dog! Jeez, give me a little credit, I used a hammer. With only a couple of dents in the desk and one on my thumb, the monitor was in place. Next came the computer. I carefully slid the tower into it spot in the desk. Well, I tried to carefully slide the tower into its spot. Unfortunately, the computer and the spot were incompatible. It must be a Microsoft thing. It seems the old computer was roughly two inches narrower than the new one. This left no space for the computer in the desk. Again, I brought out trusty old "MC" and gave the shelves a few whacks and in the process removed them from the desk. I now had lots of room for the computer plus I had extra wood for another new project. You know, I have watched Norm Abram in the New Yankee Workshop every week and he never has this kind of problems. I think maybe all I need is a shop with $200,000 in tools and I could have this problem licked.

As Valentines Day arrives, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had remembered that it was Monday and had even done a little shopping. Armed with a card, flowers, candy, and a gift; I was going for major points. A guy has so few opportunities to get out of the dog house, he has to make the most of it. I had gone all out. I even had a card especially made from one of those machines. I don't presume to be a poet but my heart was in the right place. It simply said, "You're better than a home run in the bottom of the ninth." I thought if anyone would appreciate that, it would be Trina. As she opened the card, I had a hard time judging whether I was making points or not. When she finally got to the gift, she had a look of anticipation and I was sure this was the perfect gift. I was so eager for her to open it that I had to jump in as one of the kids and help her tear off the gift wrapping. As the box was opened, I waited for the squeal of joy that I was sure this gift would bring. Instead, I heard those five words that I have become so accustomed to, "Did you save the receipt?" I couldn't believe it. How could any woman not love a satin teddy? I made sure it was the right size as I had feigned interest in the laundry for two weeks so I could get underwear sizes. I knew it would fit. I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't be parading around in this thing. It was perfect. It was made of material that had thousands of little Arizona Diamondbacks logos all over it. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. I probably would have gotten one for myself if they would have had one my size. I just don't get this holiday.

Groggy from another late night working on the computer. I use the term loosely since I spent a couple of hours last night watching The Matrix on DVD on the computer. Hey, a guy has got to test doesn't he? I wandered out the front door this morning in my Diamondbacks pajamas with my Goofy slippers on to retrieve the newspaper. There across the street was my neighbor watering his lawn. "Geez, is that all that guy does is water is lawn?" I thought. "Geez, does this guy ever dress like a normal person?" he was probably thinking. Regardless, I wander back into the house, the paper in tow. As I opened it up, there on the front page was proclaimed, Spring Training Baseball Extra in today's paper. I could hardly contain myself as I tore through the paper trying to find this section. As I went, paper flew like debris through a tree chipper. Trina rushed in to see what the commotion was. Is I found it, I jumped up and let out a Hoot!, the ears on my Goofy slippers flapping against my jammies. "I guess this means you won't be finishing the computer today then?" she asked. I'm thinking it would be wise to read while loading software if I know what's good for me.

As a special favor to me today, the kids all in unison went down to the mail box (Dakota of course had to wear his snow gear just to be like Dad) to gather the mail. I of course was still sprawled out on the floor. Partly from exhaustion due to staying up all night playing on the new computer and partly from shock that the kids were getting the mail without being asked. When they came back, the marched in parading by size through the front door singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", our family national anthem. Dakota being the smallest was first in line. Above his head he carefully held the February copy of the Diamondbacks Magazine. He approached me and held out his little hands which were carefully holding this precious gift. I felt much like Joseph must have when the three wise men brought gifts celebrating the birth of the Christ child. I accepted his gift and ran to the one quiet room in the house and began reading. I emerged three hours later, a peaceful solitude about my countenance. Much like a drug addict, I have once again gotten my fix of Diamondbacks information. I should be able to survive another month until the next issue arrives.

I'm sitting in a meeting this afternoon when I received a page from Trina. "Congratulations, you are the proud owner of a bouncing baby Hewlett Packard 9690c Computer!" That message brought a tear to my eyes. I have been waiting what seems like an eternity for my new computer to arrive. What started two months ago as a search to see if there was something a little faster and a little bigger on which I could develop Now Hitting web pages ended up with the purchase of a massive home computer system capable of streaming live video to the web. I rushed home from work and tore into the boxes. I pulled the cobalt blue case out and admired it. My first reaction was, wouldn't have been cool if it were Diamondback purple. As I started to set it up, I immediately began customizing the computer. First thing to go was the sleek mouse that HP had sent. Although it was cool, it did not compare to my Arizona Diamondbacks mouse. I then booted the system and immediately installed the baseball theme and my Arizona Diamondbacks background and screen saver. Well, it is now starting to look like a real computer. All I have left to do now is install 27 software packages and transfer my files from one PC to the other. I should be done just about the time spring training starts next Friday.

I've seen Mike Tyson fight, I've watched the WWF Monday Nitro, I have even seen the Ultimate Fighting Championship on Pay-per-view but nothing could have prepared me for the events of today. New Year's Day, Trina and I had purchased a bunk bed for the kids. We had expected delivery later that week. As of today, we were still awaiting delivery. This shopping experience has been a nightmare as the company either delivered garbage to us or missed delivery dates. Well, we had finally had it and Trina went to demand a refund. The salesperson at Beds Direct who was also the owner gave Trina every excuse imaginable for why her company was not at fault and stressed at the top of her lungs that there were no refunds. Trina was tenacious not backing down meeting this Amazon woman decibel for decibel. Customers who were unfortunate enough to wander into the store were treated to quite a sight. Two women standing toe-to-toe, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Now Trina was mismatched giving away probably a good 65 pounds to her opponent. To the untrained eye, this fight looked to be very lopsided. But there was information I knew about Trina that would tip the scales in her favor. First, she was married to me. Anyone who could survive 19 years of me on a daily basis could definitely take this Shamu in pantyhose. Second, there was the incident with Bone Crusher my Basset Hound. He ran off one time and would not return when Trina called him. This infuriated Trina to no end and when she finally caught him, she had him neutered. Third, I once took a self-defense class with Trina and I watched her drop a 6 foot 3 inch 245 pound black-belt to the ground and come inches away from shoving his nose into his brain cavity. This babe obviously had no idea what she was dealing with. During the foray going on in the showroom, Mamma Cass raised her arm like she was going to strike my wife. Trina glared at her with her steely dark eyes and calmly said, "Touch me and I will drop you like a rock." The Walrus immediately backed down and cheerfully refunded our money. It was probably the wisest decision she would ever make. As we traveled home, I looked at Trina and said, "My car is leaking oil. Could you take it in and do what you just did at the dealership? If they ask, I would like the Red Corvette for my trouble."

With opening day only 55 days away, I have a lot to do. I got into the closet today and pulled out the seat cushions. I better start getting these packed if I want to be ready when the Diamondbacks open the season on April 4 against the Philadelphia Phillies. On one hand it seems like only yesterday that I was watching the Diamondbacks in the playoffs against the New York Mets. On the other hand, I can hardly remember what it is like to be sitting in the stands watching a Major League Baseball game. I can hardly wait. I opened the pocket on the seat cushion and looked inside. It was like Christmas morning all over again. Hey, there is the ticket stub from the playoff game! I wondered where that was. And there is my water bottle still half full. Feels a little warm, I probably should put it in the freezer so it is ready. Wow, there are still three salted peanuts left from last year so I shouldn't have to buy any at the first game. And there is still one piece of Cotton Candy stuck to the inside of the pocket. Looking around to see that no one was watching, I ate that. It doesn't have the same consistency after four months. Deep in the bottom of the bag was two yellow gummy bears without heads (I always eat the heads off first. It is kind of a king of the jungle thing I guess). Finally, one piece of Bubble Yum bubble gum, hard as a rock. This last treasure I threw away although Dakota retrieved it from the garbage and chewed it before I could stop him. With the inventory completed, I got the cushions dusted off and ready for another season. All that is left to do is wait.

After a hard day, I made my way home. As I sat down on the couch Trina yells from the kitchen. "Hey Nanook the mail is on the counter!" Well, it seems my demonstration did have some lasting effect since I didn't have to beg for the mail today. I reached the pile and began rummaging through it. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are the worst. If I see one more add for carpet cleaning, I think I am going to Ralph! Then I came to a stack of cards. Each card was the same. White 3 X 5 inch cards with Phoenix postmarks scrawled across the front. In the upper left hand corner was the familiar logo of the Arizona Diamondbacks. I grabbed them and leafed through them. There were cards for each member of the family and two for me. I eagerly turned them over to see what was on them. There was the announcement I had been waiting for. Single game tickets will go on sale in the next two weeks for the 2000 season. When I read that I got so excited that I yelled and threw the cards straight in the air. Everyone in the house came running from every room in the house to see what was going on. There they found me in the dining room postcards floating around the room like confetti. In the middle, I was dancing a little jig in circles like some crazed leprechaun. Baseball season was finally coming close. I could almost taste the hot dogs. I think we need to celebrate this occasion. A trip to the team shop is in order.

As I arrived home from work tonight, I asked the same thing I ask every night, "Did anyone go and get the mail?" Tonight, I received the same response I receive every night, "Oh, do we have to?" I often wonder about kids and what makes them tick. I mean how hard can it be to take the mail key and walk 100 yards to a mail box in 72 degree weather and retrieve four or five pieces of paper? It is not like I am asking them to battle fierce cold or march across the great plains in the dead of winter. But each day is the same thing. Well to save myself the trouble of repeating the lecture my father always gave me, I decided it would be best if I got the mail myself. So getting on my snow boots and snow pants, putting a turtleneck, sweater and parka on. I wrapped my neck in a scarf put a fur hat on and donned my down filled mittens to make the daily trek down to the mail box. The journey was long as I fought the fierce gale force winds shielding my eyes from the blizzard like conditions. My family waited eagerly at the window their breath fogging the glass as they awaited my return from the Arctic frozen tundra of Chandler Arizona. It seemed to take forever for this journey. I looked across the street my eyes now getting accustomed to the white-out conditions. I could make out my neighbor who was also battling the elements. There he stood staring at me as he was watering the lawn in his shorts. I must have looked like a crazed Eskimo mime. But looks mean nothing when you are battling the fierce elements of an Arizona winter. I reached the mailbox and quickly emptied its contents and stuffed them in my parka so they would not freeze and quickly made my way back to the house. There I was greeted at the door by my daughter Ashley. "Think you could have made that any more dramatic dad?" I think I made my point. Maybe next time they will not give me so much grief when I ask them to get the mail. Who am I kidding? Tomorrow will be the same. For now I am content to get out of this coat, I am dying. I home there are some popcicles left. I gotta cool off.

Dakota awoke this morning with a fever. I guess I get elected to stay home from church with him. It probably wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to watch Tarzan five times in a row. I am beginning to root for Clayton to kill every gorilla on the screen. When the closing credits again ran, I talked Dakota into taking a ride in hopes that he would calm down. I put his jacket on and we got into the Suburban. As we started driving, Dakota asked if we could listen to some music. Since most of the radio stations were playing garbage, I turned to the CD. As the music started, Dakota and I began to get very excited. I could name this tune in seven notes. I have heard this song so many times and yet I never get tired of it. It is the roof opening music at Bank One Ballpark. As it starts, I reach for the electric window controls and begin lowering all of the windows in the Surburban. Dakota just loves that and he makes me play the song over and over. We laughed until we were both tired. I turned the car around and as I lowered and raised the windows for the tenth time, Dakota fell asleep. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

After my comments yesterday about alternative seating arrangements, I should have known what was coming next. I was to busy comtemplating Spring Training starting in two weeks to think about coming up with a good story today. So when Trina suggested we go look at furniture, I was left staring like a deer in headlights. I knew I was in danger and I should run, but I was fascinated by the bright lights bearing down upon me. So, without a good excuse, I was drug to the car and forced to wander aimlessly down aisles of couches, love seats, and chairs. Forced to endure the torture of examining fabric swatches. I was asked my opinion (I have no idea why since it was completely ignored) of various types of styles and fabrics. I was bored out of my mind but had to act interested. Our final stop in this death march was the Lazy Boy store. You would think with a name like that they would cater to guys but that was not the case. I wandered around the store looking at simulated living rooms. It was obvious that none of these rooms were designed by men since there was no television, everything was color coordinated, and it was way to clean. Then I saw it. In the distance was the Nirvana of male furniture. A leather recliner with a cooler in one arm, a massage control in the other. It had a place for numerous television remotes and was even equipped with a telephone with Caller ID. I dove for the chair and tested all of its amenities. As Trina wandered the store I sat in a chair second only to Captain's Kirks in importance. I took the salesman aside and asked the most important question, "Can I get it in two tone leather? I want the sides in purple and the front and back in teal green." I took off my Diamondbacks hat to match the leather colors exactly. I know that Trina has her heart set on a couch, but I think three of these chairs stacked side-by-side would be about the same size. Surely she would see the genius of this plan.

After a long day at work, I came home to find Trina and the kids working on the house getting everything all cleaned up. At first I panicked. Usually when this amount of cleaning is being done, it usually means we are going to have company. I'm not sure I can deal with out of town guests right now. Trina assured me that was not the case. I was confused. I knew something was up, I just didn't know what. Trina and the kids brought me the newspaper with the sports page on top and a cold pop. Now I was really worried. Then Trina laid it on me. "You know, the couch in the living room is really showing it wear. Perhaps we should think about replacing it." Now I am not one to start an argument, I am also not one to roll over and agree. "Sure" I said, "I know just the thing for this room." I did too. I had recently found the company that made the seats for Bank One Ballpark. It would be awesome if we got a row of seats and set them in the living room. Not only that, we could eliminate the end tables too. Each seat comes with its own beverage holder. This would be perfect. The green seats would even match the curtains. I had everything covered. By this time, I was getting really excited. I would be the envy of everyone in Section 133. But before I could savor the mental image, Trina shot me down. There is no way we are getting ballpark seats for the living room. If I attempted such a purchase, I would find myself sleeping in those seats. Disenchanted, I felt it better that I let this battle lay for a while. She probably would have flipped anyway when I started throwing peanut shells on the floor.

My friend George Taylor paged me this morning with a simple question, "Do you want to go to a Phoenix Coyote hockey game tonight?" I quickly checked my calendar, Mallorie's Middle School Band Concert 7:30 PM. "Sure", I responded back. I knew I should go to my daughter's band concert, but who could choose listening to a hundred struggling student musicians over watching three periods of fighting and an occasional goal. I am sure the family will understand. After all, I had to suffer through shopping for beds for a whole month. I should at least get time off for good behavior. Surprisingly, Trina agreed that I should probably spend some time out of the house. I think she is still a little freaked out about the spring dance the other morning though I keep telling her it was just a bad dream, I don't think she is buying it. With the family's blessings, George and I went downtown to America West Arena. The drive seemed so natural like I had done it 167 times before. I have gotten so that I could probably drive it in my sleep. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that I was parked in the Bank One Ballpark parking lot where I usually do for the baseball games. I found myself less interested in the hockey game and more interested in knowing whether they were ready to lay the new sod on the playing field. I went to the game and as I watched the Coyotes lose 2-0, I couldn't help notice that I was the only one wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks jersey and hat. What is up with these people. They are less than 400 yards away from Bank One Ballpark and no one was wearing purple pinstripes. There are times I really have to wonder about where society is going.

Today is Groundhog Day, I have for years attempted to have this day recognized as a major holiday but to no avail. Outside of Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, no one seems to care. What is up with this country? We celebrate a calendar rolling over from one year to the next without a second thought but suggest we celebrate a rodent predicting the weather and people think you're nuts. So I am left once again celebrating on my own. I prepared my traditional Ground Hog dinner of sausages and the family took turns making shadow puppets on the walls. We ended the day watching the classic Bill Murray movie Groundhog Day. As I sat watching the movie, I began to ponder how all events have a connection to baseball. This holiday is no different. In life, the groundhog comes out of hibernation and looks around to see if spring has arrived. In baseball, pitchers and catchers come out of hibernation to see if spring training has arrived. In life, fans cheer if the groundhog doesn't see his shadow and spring arrives. In baseball, fans cheer if pitchers and catchers don't see their shadows and spring training arrives. In life, after the groundhog reports, he is locked away in a cage for six weeks. In baseball, after pitchers and catchers report, they are locked away in dormatories for six weeks. In life, everyone questions why we care what a rodent has to say about the weather. In baseball, everyone questions why we care what a rodent has to say about minorities in New York. In life, I cannot find anyone who agrees that Groundhog Day should be a national holiday where we all get out of work. In baseball, I cannot find anyone who agrees that Spring Training should be a national holiday where we all get out of work. Sometimes these parallels even scare me. This is like some kind of Twilight Zone episode.

"Released pitcher Bobby Chouinard." Never have four little words ever carried so much emotion. For anyone outside of Phoenix, that is all they would see when perusing the Major League Baseball transaction log. Unless they followed the team closely last year, they may never even know who Bobby Chouinard is. But those who have been following the events of the past six weeks know that this is only the end of chapter one of this saga.

To a baseball fan, January is the longest month of the year. It is close enough to spring training to whet your appetite but still far enough away that it seems it will never come. So when the month ends, baseball fans all around the world sigh a great relief that they have survived another off-season. All attention now focuses on the middle of February. For it is that time that life springs eternal. As major league players all journey to the sunny climates of Arizona and Florida. As I got up this morning, I looked out of my bedroom window and saw a new day dawning. I began an uncontrollable urge to begin dancing. There I was in my Goofy slippers and my pajamas dancing away my arms swinging back and forth. Suddenly I came to the realization that unlike other days, Trina had not gotten up before me, there she was laying under the covers, a confused look on her face. Rarely does a wife ever get woken from a dead sleep to the sight of a thirty-eight year old man dancing in Diamondback pajamas wearing slippers shaped like Goofy's head. As she rolled over trying to erase this image from her mind, I heard her say, "So this is what they meant when they said for better or for worse. It doesn't get much worse than that."