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Charles has sort of entered a mildly regressed, whiny, misbehavin’ state since Josephine showed up; a little jealousy, a little boredom, a little attention-seekin’. So I try and make sure he gets to be the center of attention every so often. To this end, he and I went to purchase ice cream at a little place up the road from us. He got a vanilla soft-serve cone covered liberally in sprinkles, 1/3 of which he ate, 1/3 of which he rubbed over every inch of his body, and the remaining third of which I put into the freezer after he left it to melt onto the coffee table. I got a chocolate milkshake the size of Charles’s torso, and picked up a peanut-butter shake for Sarah, who remained home to feed Josephine.

While we were there, I met an aged gentleman who had on, of all things, a Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society tshirt. I was unaware that such a society existed, and asked him about it; apparently they have a little museum somewhere up near Hatboro, PA. After he went on his merry way, I whipped out my phone and did a little googlin’. As you might surmise, they have a website. More importantly, they have a store, filled with stuff like this. Daddy want. Wait, wait, no. Daddy really want, except without Foxx’s name, since players didn’t have their names on their uniforms until 1960. Plus then people would be like, “What the hell is that you’re wearing? Oakland’s colors do not include blue,” and I would say “It’s a replica Jimmie Foxx jersey, man, know your SHIZNIT.”

I have strange conversations.

Crazy day for baseball today. First, Manny Ramirez suspended 50 games for using a banned substance. MLB didn’t specify what was used, but Manny explains:

“Recently I saw a physician for a personal health issue. He gave me a medication, not a steroid, which he thought was OK to give me,” Ramirez said. “Unfortunately, the medication was banned under our drug policy. Under the policy that mistake is now my responsibility.”

Tough break for the Dodgers, who are running away with the NL West right now. Perhaps the pendulum has swung too far the other way? I fully support throwing the book at guys who are popping greenies and squirting HGH under their skin, but if a doctor in good standing gives someone a medication for a health issue, perhaps that could be taken into account? Of course, if Manny receives any special treatment (he almost certainly won’t), Phillies fans would rightly be murderously angry over J.C. Romero’s treatment in an almost identical situation.

In sadder news, Danny Ozark, Phillies manager in the 70s when they were pretty darned good, passed away this morning at age 85.

To brighten the mood, here’s a touching piece on Stan Musial. It’s from last summer, but I just found it today and wanted to make sure my homies saw it. I never knew much about Stan, but over the last few months have been learning more, and he’s rapidly becoming my favorite “Non-Philadelphia Ballplayer That I Never Actually Saw Play.” I even selected his batting stance as the one I use for my MLB2008 “The Show” 3rd baseman (who obviously throws right, but bats left, like Jesus Chase Utley).

Stan’s somebody I would have liked to ask my grandfather (a lifelong baseball fan, as well as a darned fine semi-pro player in the 1930s) about before the Alzheimer’s. Too bad.

Even if you don’t care much for basketball, this article by the inimitable Malcolm Gladwell is worth a read. The basic gist of the story is: even if you aren’t particularly good at something, you will be more successful than those who are by simple effort. This is something we tell our kids but tend not to believe ourselves; it’s nice to see it examined and proved.

Great job, “fans.”

Here’s the rule I propose: if you’re at a home game, don’t mess with the opposing fans. They’re the insurgents; you’re the US Army. Screwing with them is just like torture. It just pisses them off.

Let’s face it: Mets fans aren’t that bright. If they were, they wouldn’t be Mets fans. (Ha ha! Just kidding, Mets fan who might be reading this! Please don’t torch my car!) Now we’ll have thousands of them showing up at the Vault all season, rolling 15-20 deep, just itching to beat the crap out of someone. And some poor guy in a Cole Hamels jersey who’s taking his daughter to her first baseball game, and asked an idiot in a cheap David Wright knockoff jersey to stop dropping F-bombs, is gonna end up in the hospital. That’s gonna be so…great.

Some schmuck “fan” just created a baseball environment in which somebody’s going to get maimed. Thanks, douchenozzle.

So the Phils have quietly and sneakily crept back into first place with last night’s win over the Natinals. Well, maybe not sneakily; Monday’s win was effected via two, count ’em, two grand slams, one from Ryan Howard to tie it up early, and then another from Raul “RBI” Ibañez in the bottom of the eighth to take a 13-11 lead. So not sneaky, but quite loud.

The offense has been en fuego for the last week or so, getting on base, hitting huge bombs. They’re getting on base 35% of the time, 5th best in the league, and slugging .472, topping the league. Most importantly, they have 118 runs, third in the league but only one behind the tied leaders. Woo!

On the mound, however, we have a different story. In 19 games, starters have gone 7 innings only twice. The bullpen is performing admirably (aside from Lidge blowing his first save as a Phillie last week), but they’re getting worn out. Hamels is off to a disastrous start, with an ERA over 7, and while he allowed no runs last night, he only faced 18 batters over 4 1/3 innings before spraining his ankle while fielding a bunt. He says he’ll be okay to pitch again next Monday, his next scheduled start, but frankly I’d rather they 15-day DL him so he can make sure he’s back to full health. The team is good again this year, and has a strong chance of defending last year’s title; I think it behooves them to make sure their ace starter is healthy, rather than risk injury on a game in May.

On a positive note, Raul “RBI” Ibañez is close to joining Chase “Sloppy Splinter” Utley on the official “Matt Hearn Would Go Gay For These Men” list. They’re neck-and-neck in the stats: Utley’s batting .357, with an OPS of 1.142, and Ibañez is batting .355, and his OPS 1.143. Utley started hot like this last year but was slowed by his hip injury, but whichever of them can maintain a pace like this is your NL MVP, and I guar-on-tee it.

Here’s a snap from Tuesday’s ball game, described here.

I’ve been trying to find fun stuff to do with Charles before The Baby comes and takes us out of the power play and into man-to-man coverage. Earlier in the month we went to the zoo (always a favorite for me; I love a good capybara). Yesterday, I discovered that as a result of Monday evening’s rainout, the Wilmington Blue Rocks were going to play a twi-night doubleheader, with the first game starting at 5:05. I figured we’d get there late, stay to the end of the first game, and then sneak out before the rains started.

I picked up Charles at the usual time and asked him if he wanted to go to a baseball game, and he was SUPER-excited. (One great thing about children is that they cannot hide enthusiasm: they actually say things like “Yay!” and “Wow!” completely unironically.) So we got in the car and headed down to Frawley Stadium. Charles, being under the age of 4, required no ticket, so I bought a general admission ticket for $6. We went inside and were each given a free Rocky Bluewinkle hat, after which Charles got to meet the moose himself and shake hands. Then we went and found a little bench just outside the reserved seating area to watch a few at-bats.

Next to us, a stadium usher was chatting with an EMT (of which there were several around; I wasn’t sure if the Blue Rocks’ fans had a particular problem with coronary thromboses, or what; I can report that most of the fans, myself included, are well into the “obese” area of BMI measurement), discussing what idiots the fans were for thinking that they could move out of the General Admission seating into the almost utterly empty “Reserved” area. Anyone that tried was summarily dismissed to the bleacher seats. By the end of the game, there were hundreds of people crowded into “GA,” and literally tens of fans in reserved seating. Supposedly they would be permitted to upgrade their seating for the second game, but c’mon, Blue Rocks management. That’s kind of a silly policy on a Tuesday evening with threatening skies.

We watched a few at-bats, and I tried to explain to Charles what the fielding positions were; he grasped “pitcher” and “catcher” because, well, they pitch and catch, respectively. We got to see one Salem player knock one out of the yard, and I thought of Harry Kalas. Charles’s attention span being what it is, we had to find something to do after a bit, and got some chicken fingers and fries. Again, his attention span failed us as I got him to eat approximately 6 fries and no chicken before he spotted what he called a “trampoline,” but was in fact a small moon bounce. I insisted we eat some dinner, but he was too amp’d up. I finished off the chicken and threw most of the fries away (in our defense, the fries appeared to have been cooked during the last Democratic presidential administration) and wandered over to the moon bounce, where I was charged $2 for the privilege of watching my son bound around with wild abandon.

Once I finally convinced him to take a break, we headed up into the General Admission area, to the top row, where he watched baseball for about 30 seconds and then spent 10 minutes watching trucks go by on I-95. After a time, he decided he needed some popcorn, so we went off to retrieve that, and then returned to the bleachers to watch some more. By then it was close to 7pm, and Charles was entering a loopy state wherein he would say deliberately unintelligible things and then giggle uncontrollably, so I realized it was getting to be time to go. We shuffled out of there back to the car and were home and watching Thomas do his Tank Engine Thang by 7:30.

The Blue Rocks won, 8-3.

I’m pretty frustrated with the rainouts affecting the Phils. They seem to get to play 2 games, then they have rain or a day off and their momentum is gone. Super frustrating, and as an added bonus I’m sure they’ll be playing a bunch of doubleheaders and 8-game weeks, burning out the bullpen. Please hold me, as I am scared.

On the other hand: that Raul “RBI” Ibanez sure can hit, caint he? The jury is still out, but I’m willing to consider eating a lot of crow on the subject. (I believe my take on his signing was expressing great dismay that we gave up Pat Burrell and replaced him with an older, pricier guy who’s slightly better defensively and bats left-handed when we already have two powerful lefties and a panload of switch hitters but not one reliable righty starter. Not only is that sentence horribly constructed and painful to read, I might be, horror of horrors, wrong.)

Here’s hoping a series against the 4-8 Brewers can help get the good guys back to .500 and salvage April.

Hey look, the Phillies are up 3-1 in the World Series. I must have blacked out for a few weeks. Is it good opportunity to drink liveblog the action? Yes. Yes it is.

• 8:53 pm – We’re coming to you late, at the top of the 2nd, because I didn’t think of starting a liveblog until just now. And despite the STRIKE on the word “drink” above, I am going to spend most of the evening tossing back Pink Gins to keep my nerves under control. Alcohol and night baseball: it’s a winning combination!
• 8:55 pm – If you’re just joining us, Cole Hamels got through 3 quick outs in the top of the first, and the Phils scored 2 on a bunch of hits and walks (I wasn’t counting, sadly; what am I, ESPN?). And Cole just got two more quick outs. This is shaping up Nice.
• 9:00 pm – Because Joe Suck and Tim McMoron may be the worst commentary team in the history of professional sports (more on this later), I’ve got a radio set up tuned to 1210AM so I can listen to Scott, Larry, and Harry. I highly recommend, if you happen to be in the North DE/Southeast PA area, you do the same.
• 9:02 pm – My wife might be mad later. The DVR was supposed to record Heroes, but Dancing With Stars is also on, and my DVR can only see 2 things at once. Obviously I’m not changing the tuner showing the game. So I made an executive decision: she watches Dancing With Washed Up Stars every other day, it seems, but we haven’t watched any Heroes episodes yet this season. Easy choice.
• 9:04 pm – Coincidentally, Larry Anderson is talking about going on Dancing With The Stars. I would pay cash money to see this.
• 9:06 pm – Jayson Werth needs a nickname to justify his ridiculous facial and head hair. Since he looks like he could be a pornstar, I’m going with “Furburger.” Jayson “Furburger” Werth. Win, right?
• 9:07 pm – Bottom 2nd, 2 out, and the aforementioned Furburger singles.
• 9:10 pm – Dang. The rain is coming hard; I’m about 25 miles south of CBP, hopefully it’ll take a few hours to get really nasty at the game. I’m not holding my breath. And of course, tomorrow I have a recording session and won’t be home until close to 11.
• 9:12 pm – Nice, Harry’s back on. He’s a good luck charm, like a Leprechaun or midget.
• 9:16 pm – Cole is looking kinda en fuego. He’s only struck out 2 guys in 7 outs so far, but he looks like he’s just daring them to swing. And then they do, and ground weakly to short, or pop out, or just whiff at the change.
• 9:17 pm – And of course the instant I press “submit,” he gives up a base hit. Luckily he then immediately induces the next guy to ground out to second, so I repeat: EN FUEGO.
• 9:18 pm – Political side note: somebody at the McCain campaign has big freaking brass testicles to be running ads saying Obama represents big government. Did they miss the last 8 years? The government is currently bigger than yo mama! And she so fat SHE ATE THE IRS.
• 9:20 pm – Onto my second Pink Gin. What’s a Pink Gin? I’m glad you asked! Dash of bitters, then a bunch of gin. It ends up sort of a brownish red, and is mega spicy. Highly recommended.
• 9:22 pm – Milo asked an important question: can they call a WS game after 5 innings?
• 9:23 pm – Eek…Scott Kazmir seems to be getting a little en fuego as well. This is displeasing, since I fear the middle of the Rays lineup is due.
• 9:29 pm – EEEEEEK. Deep double off the wall by Pena, followed by an RBI single by Longoria that just scooted by Jimmy. 2-1 Phils.
• 9:31 pm – Whew. Double play to end the inning. Aight, good guys, let’s put some guys on and get ’em home.
• 9:33 pm – It’s heartening to hear AIGDirect.com commercials on the radio, since that’s my beleaguered employer and all. It’d be nice to be, um, not laid off.
• 9:35 pm – If, and this is a BIG IF, my favorite team were to someday in the staggeringly near future win a World Series, I am concerned that I would then spend several hundred dollars on Paraphernalia. For example, I really want a World Series hat with earflaps. I would wear that all winter long. And one of those warmup jackets would be nice; preferably the one that Jamie Moyer is currently wearing.
• 9:37 pm – Dang. Ruiz gets a nice base hit, and then Hamels gets him out on fielder’s choice, and along the way got hit on the pitching knuckles. (It also hit the bat, sadly, so it was a foul ball, not an HBP.) So to recap, 2 outs, pitcher’s at 2nd, and his pitching hand hurts.
• 9:40 pm – The rain at CBP seems to be really coming down. Luckily, the decision to halt play is up to Commissioner Bud Selig, I think, and Lord knows he won’t do anything until Fox tells him to, regardless of danger to players or fans. So play will continue.
• 9:43 pm – Why the hell didn’t I play baseball in my youth? I would have been a spectacular pitcher. Left-handed, strong as an ox, reasonably tall, and dumber than Tim McCarver. I’d be Ryan Madson! Dang non-athletic musician parents all not forcing me to play sports and screaming at me for my inadequacies.
• 9:45 pm – Cole Hamels has been running on 3-2, 2 out counts for the past two batters. He’s sprinted off the base like 8 times now, since Furburger keeps fouling off breaking balls. And now Fur gets the walk; let’s see if Utley can do something. Some coach I don’t recognize is out to dry up Kazmir’s tears and bring him a change of panties.
• 9:50 pm – Dang. Bases loaded, Chase grounds the 3-2 pitch straight to the shifted 2nd baseman. On the plus side, the Phils are still a lock for “WS winner with worst RISP average.”
• 9:53 pm – Oh good, Jimmy loses a popup in the rain and Baldelli gets to first base for free. STOP MAKING THIS INTERESTING, DAMMIT!
• 9:56 pm – And Chase “Messiah” Utley gets an awkward double play to clear the bases! 2 outs! And the rain is getting really, really messy. And a quick K ends the inning.
• 10:00 pm – Rain is gross, and getting grosser. And it’s what, 45 degrees? Holy hell, it must be MISERABLE at the game. This, to my mind, is proof that there is a God: He’s saying “You can have your championship, Philadelphia. Maybe. But you’re going to suffer for it. Oh yes, but you will suffer.”
• 10:07 pm – My bad; it’s actually 40 degrees. Ouch. Howard and Burrell both walked, with no outs in the 5th, so they’ve yanked Kazmir. Here’s how this should play out: the Phils have a huge inning and go up like 7-1, at which point the rain gets crazy and everybody agrees it might be a good idea to just call the game at this point. Which is when I freak out.
• 10:12 pm – The great thing about listening to the radio and muting the TV, is that during the long break to try and dry out the infield, they showed Buck and McDumbass chatting, and since I can’t hear them, I can make up dialog:

  Joe Buck – So hopefully we’ll be able to get this game in.
  Tim McCarver – Yes, because if you don’t play 9 innings, it’s not a complete baseball game.
  Buck – Ummm…yes.
  McC – Also, they should do all they can to keep the mound dry, because if it’s not dry, it’s rather wet.
  Buck – You might be retarded.
  McC – How come we don’t hang out? You should come over for BBQ! I make my own sauce!
  Buck – Really? What’s in it?
  McC – Joe Maddon’s sex juice.
  [crickets]

• 10:17 pm – After the pitching change, now the radio is like 5 seconds ahead of the TV, which is REALLY ANNOYING.
• 10:19 pm – Really? Again? 2 guys on base with no outs, and nobody scores? This is unbelievable. Excepting last night, the Phils are batting .002 with runners in scoring position.
  (Important note: I made that statistic up. But it’s not off by much, I’ll wager.)
• 10:24 pm – Third Pink Gin. Chris Wheeler Scott Franzke reports that a WS-clinching game has never been shortened by rain.
• 10:27 pm – Quick shot of Shane Victorino in center field with his hand in his pants. I guess he wanted to keep it warm, and wasn’t taking a mid-inning sex juice break.
• 10:30 pm – Hamels is making quick work of the top of the 6th; Ks Iwamura, and then Crawford grounds out to first. Keep it goin’, Cole.
• 10:31 pm – Dang, Upton dinks a 2-2 pitch to Rollins, who can’t get a handle on the wet ball. Upton at first for Pena, who is hitting altogether too well lately. And Upton has the look of a man who is going to try and steal 3rd from 1st on one pitch.
• 10:39 pm – This is regoddamndiculous. They didn’t call it for rain, and now the Rays have tied it up. So now what the hell happens? It’s now the middle of the 6th with a tie game! I predict they’ll stop play with a tie game after 6, and pick it up tomorrow, either here or in Tampa. Either way, it’s stupid. They had an official game after 5 innings and let the field turn into a swamp.
• 10:42 pm – Oh great, they’ve decided to delay the game. Which is a great idea, since the rain isn’t going to stop until 3am. It’ll be superb waking up tomorrow to find out if the Phils won. “Hey Daddy,” Charles will say to me in 2019, “did you see the Phillies win their last World Series before the team moved to Halifax, NS?” “No, son, the commissioner was a dumbass and decided to finish the game at 3am. So I was asleep.”
• 10:47 pm – Argh. They’re sending us to “local programming” while they try and wait out the rain. I’m going to to do the same; I intend to stay up as long as I possibly can, but no promises.
• 11:42 pm – Okay, they’ve suspended the game until at least tomorrow at 8pm (by which time I expect it to be snowing). Which is great, since I have a recording session scheduled until 10. Did I say that already? I AM PISSED TO THE POINT OF PERSONAL CONFLAGRATION. So I’m going to suspend the blogging until then as well. Hopefully I’ll be around tomorrow night when the Phrozen Phils win this one. If not, I’ll post something rude and angry about having missed it. See you then!