I Hate you Now Leave me Alone September 10, 2010

My mind races. I can feel the fear rising up in me as he nervously inches towards me. This short slightly overweight goofy looking guy in glasses is making a beeline right for me. This isn’t right. If I was standing in front of an elevator or a staircase I might understand, but I’m not. I am standing next to the exit to the bathroom at PNC Park and this dorky looking Pirates fan is heading straight for me. Maybe he wants to tell me to go fuck myself because the Nationals just finished taking their first road series since May by outscoring the Pirates 17 to 3 in the last two games, but that isn’t it. When he gets to me he asks me where I am from. I want to tell him I am from where he thinks I am from. How many fucking Nats fans aren’t from the DC area? I really just want to tell him to fuck off, but I answer his question honestly but tersely.

Obviously he doesn’t get the message as he has  follow up questions. He asks if I am in town for the whole weekend. The fact that it is Sunday afternoon should give that one away, and I don’t know how to answer this retard. I simply tell him no I am leaving when my friend gets through desecrating a stall at PNC Park. I actually leave that last part off and just tell him no. He of course has more questions and comments. I really want this to end. I have no idea why this guy is talking to me. Do I look interesting or interested? He keeps going though. He tells me that Zimmerman made a good play at third. My response is, “I know.” Zimmerman does do it all the time after all. He is the best defensive third baseman in baseball.  Lucky for me I see my friend exit the bathroom and with no further words I am gone. I look back briefly and sad lonely eyes are following me. I feel no remorse I fucking hate strangers and I hate it more when they talk to me.

This instance of a stranger talking to me is nothing new. It has happened in nearly every city I have travelled to this year to watch baseball. From a Nats fan in Ohio telling me his life story and why he is a Nats fan to a guy in Philly wanting to stop me so he could chat about Strasburg’s injury and Jim Riggleman’s handling of pitchers. It happened a few other times in Pittsburgh as well. Mostly the topic of conversation is Strasburg and if I think he will come back. Well I know he will come back. The problem is he might break down again or not be the same pitcher, but he will return to the mound and statistics show that he most likely will be the same pitcher.

The topic of conversation here isn’t Strasburg. It is strangers trying to have conversations with me. I don’t know why it happens. Maybe because I am a Nats fan on the road they assume I know something about the Nationals. I do probably know more than most non-diehard Nationals fans, but I don’t think I know that much more than any other Nationals fan. I simply like to travel and like to watch baseball when I travel. It is funny because no stranger tried to talk to me in Chicago or Milwaukee, but that time I was with my Asian friend and maybe they think I am his translator or something and don’t want to start an uncomfortable conversation. Well I got news for you strangers out there; every conversation you start with a stranger is fucking uncomfortable. It is weird to think that at some point in time all my friends and I were strangers, but I met most of them in some form of schooling, and if you think about it your classmates aren’t really strangers.

 It is for that reason that I think I would be open to a fellow Nats fan talking to me, but some beady eyed chubby Pirates fan is a no go. Although I have to say when a random pizza delivery guy in Cleveland decided to talk to me it was kind of cool, but he was there and I was there. We were both in the places we were supposed to be going about our daily business and he decided to talk to me. After a minute or two I did want to get away, but it wasn’t the same kind of confusion mixed with fear that I suffered in PNC Park.

The waitress at the Original Oyster Bar kidding us about the Nationals is one thing as is the guy sitting next to us at a bar, but it is an entirely different thing to approach a stranger out of nowhere and start jibber jabbering and trying to make conversation. It isn’t nice or fun to feel trapped. I had to wait for my friend to get out of the bathroom. Looking back right now I just realized I could have just run off to the team store and sent a text message, but I am a much faster thinker in hindsight. At that moment I was trapped in a little corner of PNC Park. A corner where no human being not exiting the bathroom would have a reason to be. Why this little turd felt the need to walk up to and then start talking to me is beyond me. Of course now I also feel bad about calling him a turd. He is probably just some socially awkward guy that feels any fellow baseball fan is a possible friend.

I just dislike people. I dislike crowds. The worst place in the universe to me is the grocery story. I stopped eating cereal because the isle is always too crowded. My wife now does all of the grocery shopping and I can’t be happier. When I do have to go to the store it is always a scary time. People are rushing around me and darting in front of me. One woman was tailgating me the other day with her cart. I stopped to pick up some beer and she almost ran into me. Listen sweetheart it is a grocery store people buy things. They ain’t there to take a stroll through the fucking cheese isle. Also walk how you fucking drive people. Walk to the goddamned right.

I guess the point is it doesn’t really matter where I am in the world I dislike strangers, and I dislike it even more when they approach me for no good reason to have a conversation I am not interested in. I can sit and watch a ballgame in complete silence, lost in deep thoughts and meditation, transfixed by the beauty of the game on the field. The last thing I want is my fortress of solitude to be broken into and have to listen to some guy asking my opinion about many various things. Maybe I should just have a business card made up with various web addresses on it of where my opinions can be read. Of course there is a reason I don’t have many friends and never seem to have fun at social functions, but hey if I cared I wouldn’t be me.

Exploring My Nerd Tendencies September 9, 2010

Do stat nerds like being called stat nerds? Would they prefer to be called something other than that, like sabrminded or number cruncher? I don’t really consider myself a stat nerd. Maybe others would. When I talk about batters I don’t even look at batting average and RBI. I want to know the triple slash and more importantly the OPS. Of course even with those numbers there is more to look into. Every stat can be broken down by situation. What is a batter slugging with men on base, how often they reach base on the road, every little bit of information we could ever want is out there, and thanks to the internet any average Joe can look it up.

It is funny to think about this. To think if someone wants to be called a nerd. We wouldn’t walk up to an overweight person and ask if they mind us calling them Leviathan. Could you even imagine walking up to a person of a different race and asking if they liked to be called whatever they wouldn’t like to be called. I can’t imagine people liking to be called nerds, but maybe they do.

There is an entire subculture of people that hang out at comic conventions dressed in customs of their favorite characters. Then again this is sports we are talking about. Sports are not the domain of nerds and geeks, but sometimes they are. Sports are made more by the people that watch them than the people that play them. Both are needed to make everything work, but why can’t the observer be someone more interested in numbers and math than other aspects of the game, or maybe all aspects of the game appeal to them and they just like to play armchair GM.

What makes a person anything is an odd question. Being a nerd is based more on a person’s taste in entertainment or in this case views on baseball. Stat nerd is a bit of a pejorative term. It carries with it a negative context that I can’t imagine many people liking. In a way I embrace my nerdom. I may qualify as a stat nerd although I don’t think I do it doesn’t matter what I think, and I am a blogger so there is a big point against any argument I have, but besides the baseball thing I like to play video games (mostly RPGs the nerdiest of all), I listen to bands like Iron Maiden and Iced Earth, I enjoy the Star Wars movies (but only the first three), I am antisocial and like to keep to myself, and I have a giant comics collection and am currently trying to get back into comics (by the way check out the Luna Bros they are local and amazing).

What this all means is I have nerd tastes, but I don’t wear glasses except to read, I go to the gym on a regular basis, and I like sports. Of course my liking of sports could be seen as a nerd quality as well since I like it in the nerdy way. I may talk at times about the poetic beauty of the game, but the fact that Willie Harris makes diving catches and looks like he is really playing hard doesn’t mean I don’t think his numbers can be and should be replaced. I actually don’t think Willie Harris should be replaced. He can play all three outfield positions, can every now and then crack a homer, and in a pinch can even sub in the infield. I just don’t think he should be the first bat off the bench.

If you met me somewhere and just saw me and judged me by appearance I don’t know if you would call me a nerd. My tastes do learn towards the nerd side, but I don’t think I would like to be called a nerd. I might hit you, and it would most likely hurt. It is an insult to call someone a nerd, so no I don’t think stat nerds like to be called stat nerds, because I wouldn’t like to be called a nerd. Oh, sorry to cut this short Mother needs her breakfast and I am still in my Spider-man underoos on the basement computer.

Out of the Cave August 2, 2010

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. 1 Corinthians 13:11

Baseball might be the greatest sport on earth. In what other sport can abject misery turn to joy so quickly? Sitting there Saturday night waiting for Brad Lidge to not be Brad Lidge and slam the door on the Washington Nationals while listening to thousands of Phillies fans cheering on their hometown team was misery. Then it happened. With one beautiful swing of the bat Zimmerman recreated the famous NLCS moment and made all the Phillies fans feel like Brad Lidge in that moment. I am sure you have seen the picture. Pujols is in the background admiring his homer and Lidge in the foreground staring at it, mouth agape in complete and utter shock and realization at what he had just done. When the news comes that Brad Lidge has retired it will be that moment that imagine that is burned into everyone’s mind. That is Brad Lidge. 

That moment Saturday night before the ball had even left the ballpark every Nationals fan rose in admiration of Ryan Zimmerman. Everyone stood to witness the joy, the miracle he had brought us. He had turned a sure Phillies victory into a defeat. I am sure the Phillies percent of winning at that time was in the high 90’s. With one swing of the bat Zimmerman turned what was almost a statistical certainty into an anomaly. The Nationals fans in the stands were filled with feelings of joy and euphoria. Cheers erupted in celebration of some being greater than us, one that can deliver miracles.

It was also on this day that Adam Dunn was not traded. That he would remain a Washington National. Earlier that day Peter Gammons wondered why the Nationals would trade Adam Dunn. He believed Dunn was a big part of the ball club and could help the Nationals win sooner rather than later. After the trade did not occur Buster Onley exclaimed that he was confused as to what the Nationals were doing and didn’t understand it. Onley should call his former colleague he can explain. The difference in the way MLB network and ESPN treat baseball is night and day. The ESPN analysts are still shackled in the cave watching a puppet show they believe to be reality. They do have a few good ones, but with the advent of MLB network it can be reasoned that guys like Kurkjian and Stark are not long for ESPN.

The day before the trade deadline was when the Nationals made most of their moves, and one of those moves made me sad. Not because I loved the player. In fact I didn’t care for them at all. Cristian Guzman was traded to the Texas Rangers for two AA pitchers. If they turn out to be another Chico and Mock it is a good deal. Guzman was not helping the team and him batting second was not good in any way. Despite his high average he was not a good hitter. My friend loved him. He enjoyed when he would come to bat and it was like an event in the stadium. It wasn’t some mortal being likely to swing at the first pitch and ground out softly it was Cristian Guuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzman. He was here to save the day and get a table turning hit. In my friends mind Guzman was always the underdog hero.

That is where the problem lies. I tried to explain to my friend that Guzman simply wasn’t a good player. I pointed out his OBP his SLG, WAR, VORP, wOBA, and every other advanced metric I would pull off the internet, but he wouldn’t listen, and he was the smart one. Why should he listen to me and let me ruin his fun. It is fun to believe that guys like Guzman, Nieves, and Harris can deliver the same type of moments that Zimmerman can. We believe what we believe because we have left the Cave and seen the light. When someone new comes to baseball we try and help them to see the light the way we see it, but not all people want to. They want to live in the dark world of the Cave where Guzman is good at the game of baseball. They want to think and reason with the mind of a child. The announcer says his name with such emphasis he must be good. They want to argue not with stats or logic, but with tide turning base hits and small sample sizes.

This year my friend has come to baseball. He has gone with me to Pickles to drink $2.50 beers and watch the Nationals lose to the Orioles. We have gone to Nationals Park and seen Stephen Strasburg. He has come to baseball with a mind different from mine. He does not see things the way I do, and I times I regret the fact I see the way I do. The game would be more fun if I could believe in guys like Guzman. If I could look at the old style stats and see a good player. The term ignorance is bliss exists for a reason. We want to think the steak is a steak and not some gruel being feed to us through a tube by machines. Opening your mind to a higher level of thinking sometimes closes it to a more enjoyable way of living.

The Sad Tale of Jason Bergmann April 16, 2010

The way that time flows for a baseball player is judged solely on performance. Jason Bergmann was one of the first Nationals to come through the minor league system. I remember him watching at the tail end of the 2005 season, a season that started out magically and ended tragically. Jason Bergmann was there as a relief pitcher and he didn’t look too bad. He pitched 19 2/3 innings with a 2.75 ERA and 21 strikeouts. Those are pretty promising numbers. But the situation for the Nationals got worse and Bergmann was needed elsewhere.

In 2006 Bergmann started in 6 games. I don’t really remember Bergmann much in 2006, but his stats don’t look good as he was bounced between starting and relieving and was never able to stay up in the majors.

The 2007 season is where most of my found memories of Jason Bergmann come from. I even remember buying a ticket just to see Bergmann pitch only to learn that he was headed to the DL and instead I witnessed the rise of Mike Bacsik. Bergmann had a string of starts to rival any ace. Two games from that stretch stand out to me. One was a one to nothing lose to the New York Mets where Bergmann pitched seven innings and only gave up one earned run on a Carlos Beltran homer, but was out dueled by John Maine as the Nationals offense was unable to provide any run support.

The second of those games was a near no hitter against the Atlanta Braves.  It is one of my fondest memories of Nationals baseball along with Zimmerman’s walk-offs against the Yankees and the Braves, Pedro Astacio’s complete game shutout, and Elijah Dukes walk-off walk against the Braves. Is it odd that four of those five moments are against the Braves? If we wanted to keep going I could throw in Soriano’s three homer game against the Braves. But this is about Jason Bergmann and one magical night in May where everything worked for him.

His fastball danced away from the hitters bats. His change-up sunk and confused the hitters. In eight innings pitched he had ten strikeouts. He had the Braves hitters off balance all night until Brian McCann came to the plate to lead off the eighth inning with a solo homerun. Bergmann finished the inning and his night giving up only one run on two hits. It was a very solid performance and a night I will always remember as the high water mark of Jason Bergmann’s career.

After the 2007 season with the Nationals in a new home hope was high for the 2008 season. The Nationals won their home opener in front of a National audience on a walk-off homerun off the bat of Ryan Zimmerman. That night couldn’t have been scripted any better. They took the first two of three in Philadelphia, and then everything fell apart, and it is all Jason Bergmann’s fault.

The Nationals scored five runs in the top of the first against Phillies starter Jamie Moyer. Jason Bergmann looked like the Bergmann that had those wonderful games against the Mets and Braves, and it looked like the Nationals would be 4-0 to start the season. The Nationals entered the sixth inning leading 6-1 and that is when Philly struck, and they struck quickly. After recording the first out of the inning Jason Bergmann gave up four straight singles before being lifted for Saul Rivera. Rivera was known for letting inherited runners score, and this day would be no different. After a wild pitch and three more singles Rivera was replaced by Ray King who hit a batter and gave up one more single before getting a double play ball to end the inning. The damage had been done and the Phillies went on to win by the score of 7-6.

Bergmann has never been the same since that day. He has spent most of his time since then in the bullpen, but he has never lost his knack for giving up costly homers. His very first pitch of this season was a grand slam to Placido Polanco. After giving up a game winning homerun to Shane Victorino in the 5^th inning of the Nationals 14 to7 lose to the Phillies Wednesday night Jason Bergmann’s time as a National may be at its end. Bergmann could still clear waivers and be sent to AAA, but this is most likely the end of him. He showed promise in 2007, but he was never able to get the homerun ball out of his repertoire. I will end this with what Jason Bergmann said yesterday which is probably the best way to end it, no excuses.

  “I got fired from my job today,” Bergmann said. “It’s the hardest thing to deal with. It’s probably the worst day of my life right now.”

Made of Scars April 14, 2010

Although I immensely enjoy watching baseball and care about the Nationals very much I surprise myself with how negative I can be. I am currently denied coffee for three weeks and could be denied for three more weeks if the Nationals win tonight and tomorrow. I said out loud that the Nationals would be 0-9 to start the season and if they weren’t I wouldn’t drink coffee for a week for every win they got in that stretch. Currently they are 3-4 with two more games left in Philadelphia which I do not believe they can win. So I decided that if they can win them both to add on another week to my torture.

Not having coffee for me is almost as bad as not eating meat. It is pure torture. Every cup of coffee someone else has smells sweeter and more fragrant than coffee has ever smelled before. The bold earthy aromas slink through the air lighting on my tongue. Teasing and tempting me to end my self imposed torture. If I do however the Nationals may not win another game this entire season.

As I suffer now for coffee must be how the Nationals suffer for wins. As they watch the other team celebrating on the field it teases them with a happiness they cannot embrace. They sit there in their dugout after sulking off the field and seeing teams celebrating hundreds of time while they suffer defeat. Life is better when you are winning. Getting up in the morning is easier. The sun is brighter and the air fresher. It is just better to be a winner than a loser, but knowing what it feels like to suffer is important as well.

In three weeks when I take that first sip of coffee it will be the best cup of coffee I have ever had in my life, and it is because I am denying myself now. I don’t think the Nationals are actually trying to lose the games they lose, but they aren’t winning them either. As they suffer and wait for talent to arrive the thirst and the desire gets greater, and when they do start winning it will feel that much sweeter.

It would be nice if the wait wasn’t that much longer, and it might not be. The entire rotation could turn over by next season, but if they don’t resign Adam Dunn that is going to leave a gaping hole in the line-up that realistically can’t be replaced from within. They need hitting as well as pitching to win, and there is no guarantee that any of the pitching will work out.

As fans we hope for all these things to work out, but the more we suffer the more we doubt. It comes to a point where anything good that happens is a surprise. If winning becomes common in the coming years and losing the uncommon and unexpected event then we as fans will see a big change in personality, but the dues we pay now will make those wins feel that much better. That is if they ever come.

The Beauty of Not Caring April 13, 2010

This weekend with the Nationals out of town I ventured up to Baltimore to watch the Orioles take on the Toronto Blue Jays; who are off to a torrid start despite losing their best starting pitcher and having a line-up that is on paper one of the worst ever. It was a good game with good pitching from both sides and some Manny Acta type managing from Dave Trembley that led directly to two of Toronto’s three runs. Trembley opted to walk the number eight batter to load the bases and pitch to the number nine batter who in the American League is not a pitcher. David Hernandez promptly hit him to force in a run. The second run I blame on Trembley was bringing Will Ohman in to pitch. That is never a good idea and almost a guaranteed run for the other team. In spite of the Orioles losing I enjoyed myself immensely because I just didn’t care. It was just fun to watch a well pitched briskly played game.

The Nationals are now back playing the Phillies which is never good, but Jim Riggleman is not Manny Acta and that is a great thing. First thing that happened to prove this was Garret Mock was demoted after being warned that walking batters and pitching like a pussy would not be accepted. This was true and wonderful accountability. Manny Acta would have made excuses for Mock and talked about how he is young and still learning and just needs to time learn in the majors, and then he would have praised the Mets hitting some. Instead Mock is gone. He needs to do his learning in the minors so he can play in the majors.

The second instance where Jim Riggleman proved that he isn’t Manny Acta was when he got ejected from the game yesterday. The umpires decided that it was their job to help the Phillies win. The Phillies offense doesn’t need any help scoring runs but the umpires felt they did. Suddenly the strike zone for Jason Marquis disappeared. It was gone and nowhere to be found. After a bad throw from Pudge gave the Phillies an extra out Riggleman went out to the mound to talk to his pitcher and then lit into the umpires. The days of watching the team being jobbed in the field and the manager sitting on their hands are over. The umpires better learn to respect the Nats and let them play with the same rule book or they will hear about it. Maybe this fear of hearing about it will do something or maybe Acta is right and it accomplishes nothing, but I doubt it. It shows the umpires that there is a price for jobbing the Nationals. Maybe the next umpire thinks twice before calling a strike a ball because they will be hearing about it from Jim Riggleman.

A Somewhat Glorious Return April 7, 2010

It has been a long time since I have posted anything here. In the year since I have posted a lot of things have happened. Work has gotten a lot busier and thus I have enjoyed my free time more and more. The less I could do the better. Sitting around and doing nothing is now my most desired social activity.

I am writing now because something happened Monday afternoon that needs to be written about. Many other people have voiced their opinion, but I feel a need to add my voice to the crowd. This might be my fourth or fifth attempt at having a blog, but now I will write about something I care about very much, baseball. More importantly, Washington Nationals Baseball.

Monday was a very special day in the United States of America, it was Opening Day. I was at the presidential opener in the capital city of our great nation. I had kissed my grandma, ate an apple pie, and washed it down with a couple hot dogs, and it was time for baseball to begin again. But there was no joy in Natstown for the mighty Phillies had brought all their fans.

When we pulled into our normal parking area we noticed it was far more crowded than normal, but then when we paid and went through the gates we noticed it was filled with Phillies fans. My nearly 70 year old father commented how they were like maggots crawling out of the woodwork, and my normally calm and beautiful wife said it was disgusting. My heart sank and drowned in stomach acid at the site of so many Utley and Howard jerseys.

As we made our way out of the parking lot the two other Nationals fans in the lot cheered us for being Nationals fans. The only other time this had happened was when I saw a lady in a Zimmerman jersey in Atlanta. This was going to be a long day.

The concourses were full with fat, out of shape, Philadelphia sweat hogs. The anger rose through ever fiber in my body and coursed in my blood. I looked around and saw few curly W’s. This was a tragedy. There is nothing more that can be said. When we finally made it to the stands there were less Philly fans than there were walking around and many of the Nats’ fans were later arriving, but none of that matters. A team’s fanbase shouldn’t be made to feel like outsiders in their home park on any day let alone Opening Day.

As the game went on and the Nationals got slaughtered 11-1 I had to listen to one fat guy with a triple-chin stand up and do a Ric Flair Whoooooooo every time the Phillies got a hit. I am not sure what someone from Charlotte, North Carolina by way of Minnesota has to do with a city where their greatest sports hero is a fictional character, but listening to this guy made my skin bubble with anger. I wanted so badly to piss in my empty cup and throw it right into his open whooooing mouth.

After the game nothing got better. I ranted and raved on message boards until I was told I needed my own blog. So that is why I am restarting this one. I will from now on talk about baseball. Maybe a burger or steak now and then, but for the most part it will be the ups and downs of watching one of the worst teams in baseball play out the string from April to September. There will probably be post more optimistic than this, and a sure as hell hope there aren’t any as depressing as this. Tonight I venture out to another game and will probably be surrounded by even more Philly scum, but such is life, and all we can do is endure or give up.