Today, Roy Halladay signed a 1-day contract with the Toronto Blue Jays, before announcing his retirement. Halladay's career stats are as followed: 203-105 W-L; 3.38 ERA; 2117 SO; 1.18 WHIP: 2749 IP. The most striking number is Complete Games pitched, at 67, considered a throwback to a lesser known era when pitchers were treated more like work mules.
Although his career didn't start off as expected, the re-invention of his delivery and mental make up are well documented. My friends over at Mop Up Duty have an awesome article about his transformation to the Hall-Of-Fame-caliber that he turned out to be.
Halladay won two Cy Young's. One in each league. He also has pitched a perfect game, and in the playoffs a no-hitter. He was 4-5 in his last season with Philadelphia, with a 6.82 ERA. His last two years were plagued by back issues, which he revelated today, thus altering his pitching motion, and lastly prompting his retirement.
Every time I zip past the Gardiner Expressway past the dome, I always look over and get somewhat sad, because there used to be a tall banner on the side of a once-dominant, efficient, quiet pitcher, who always had control of every game that he started. I tried to catch as many as I could, because I knew, as we all did, that we haven't seen anybody even close to him since Christy Mathewson of the 1900's.
|It took over 90 years for us to see someone like him. Hell, it might be another 90 more years before we ever see somebody like him again.
As of last night, the Toronto Blue Jays have not tendered a contract to JP Arencibia, this blog's most famous lazy catcher, thus making him a free agent.
As I've alluded to before in other posts, his defensive shortcomings (and no ambition to improve upon them), his awful game calling, and the 2013 campaign of a .194 batting average, were the telling signs that he was due to get shuttled out of town. The 13 passed balls from this year, and last didn't help him much, either.
Left-hander Mark Buerhle refused to let Arencibia catch him, for reasons of his questionable, and slow game-calling. Buerhle is notoriously a quick worker when on the mound, and forced JP to play catch up.
So say goodbye to our much maligned lazy catcher. He'll watch his career roll all the way to the backstop before he picks it up.
I had a friend show me how to throw a knuckleball, back when I was throwing the baseball as a physics experiment and learning all of the grips. The knuckleball was one of the oddest pitches to throw (next to a screwball, which I do completely wrong. I look like I'm throwing a grenade when I let a screw-gie loose!), and I couldn't get my head around throwing a ball super slow, with no spin, and to let the wind take over.
My friend told me to throw it like a shotput, and to push it towards the plate. It works to great effect when you mix it up with other pitches. The slow knuckler just freezes batters when they're not expecting it. Junkballer Bill Lee says that you really don't use your knuckles to throw the pitch, instead to use your fingertips. And to, "extend the tips of your fingers when you throw, as if you're helping push a ball of socks into the laundry hamper."
The last time I threw a knuckleball, my friend at bat was waiting for it and hit a comebacker right to my balls. I wish I wore a cup that day. Or at least had faster hands.
I love the acquisition of knuckleballer R.A. Dickey in the Blue Jays rotation. I never thought we would ever see the likes of him in the city of Toronto, but we have him.
The knuckleball is such a peculiar pitch to throw, and to watch being thrown. It could be sometimes frustrating to watch, because of its tendency to end up in the seats. Sometimes it would be awesome to watch as it frustrates the opposing hitters, because of the perplexing way the pitch misses their bats.
Knuckleballers are an odd bunch too. They seem to never get any credit, but they always get 100% of the blame. There never seems to be any patience when it comes to them. Usually, they're in the game to mop up some innings in a lost game, or a sacrificial lamb in a doubleheader, or an afterthought to an injured pitcher. They seem to have a fraternity of their own.
I like the part when knuckleball pitcher Tim Wakefield retired, part of his retirement speech inferred to R.A. Dickey as "the one to carry the torch now."
Even better than that, in the movie, Dickey said that he will keep pitching until the next knuckleball artist comes around. It's totally feasible. He's only 38. He's smart, eloquent, with that Tennessee drawl of his, and quite the personality.
Probably a lot of naysayers hate how ineffective he is when things aren't working. I think it will be the case of 'you don't know what you have until it's gone.'
All I have to say is, be patient, and enjoy R.A. while you can, because you won't see the likes of him, or that pitch, after he's done with baseball.
(On an unrelated note: I had an R.A. Dickey dream where we were best friends and he was taking me everywhere for our bro-date. All I could remember was that drawl, and every time he spoke, everything was okay. It was weird, because we all know who I want to be best friends with . . .)
8===D - - - -
When's OUR bro-date, Colby?!!!!!!!
Silent Optimism
- I wasn't going crazy, like all of the other bandwagon jumpers, this winter when all of the trades and acquisitions took place. There are lots of factors that needed to be put in order before you could say that we are a good team.
- Mark Buerle and Josh Johnson look totally unenthused over the trade up north. Buerle being away from his family and dogs, and Johnson leaving his right arm in Miami.
- Jose Reyes was a great pick-up. We all know of his injury history, though, and could see something like his ankle sprain or something along those lines being imminent.
- J.P Arencibia is still a lazy defensive catcher. He'll often disguise his glaring holes behind the plate by showcasing his offensive side. Really though, home runs don't matter, when you've let the opposition score five or six runs against you. He calls a lousy game, and doesn't expand the strike zone for the pitchers. He still lets through a lot of passed balls, waving at most, instead of using his body to keep it in front of him. No matter what improvement he shows, he's still goddamn lazy.
- I hate when Rajai Davis starts a game and he does all of the wrong things. If you want a pop up to first, just get Adam Lind to lead off.
- Let's just put this early losing spell in the words of Dodger great Tommy Lasorda as, "just getting all of the losses out of the way." Let the winning begin.
- It takes a team some time to gel together before they start something good. This summer's World Baseball Classic was the worst ever timed event for the Blue Jays. A lot of players participated and ended up missing the pleasantries and comraderie of team play through spring training, and you ended up losing your every day third baseman because of it.
- Brett Lawrie is a beast on third. It showed how deficient we were at that position when we have jags(Just A Guy) at that post. When Brett came back, he showed the range, the speed, and the athleticism that we were missing.
- Just to remind you guys that there is an extra wild card position up for grabs this year, and that any team can get hot at the end of the season. Remember, to win it all in the playoffs, you have to be the first to win 14 games. If you get that wild card, you have to win 15 first. Possible? Totally.
- Also, with the exception of Johnson and Rasmus, pretty much all of your current roster will be back next year. And to boot, we have a surplus of young pitching coming back from injury in the likes of Luis Perez, Kyle Drabek, and Drew Hutchison next year.
- Really guys, it really can't be all that bad. Years ago, I paid a full price ticket to watch Tomo Ohka pitch live . . . batting practice it seemed. It rained baseballs that day, and not in the good way. Let's hope the rainy season is over.
Alright. It's the same mix, with the covers flipped over. For love. I've been making my wife mixes for the past 4 years. I don't think I'll ever stop.
twin shadow - you call me on
mystikal - danger
chairlift - take it out on me
big boi ft. phantogram - cpu
jupiter - hula hoop
lana del rey - blue velvet(penguin prison remix)
sky ferreira - everything is embarrassing(twin shadow remix)
shiny toy guns - fading, listening(treasure fingers epicwave mix)
miike snow - paddling out(penguin prison remix)
breakbot ft. ruckazoid - why
friendly fires - skeleton boy(grum remix)
two door cinema club - sleep alone(betaucue remix)
crystal castles - violent youth
morgan page ft. tegan and sara - body work
tegan and sara - closer
Quickly:
- I've taken a break for a little while and decided not to update, and not to write. I might be back, or not.
- All I do is troll the internet looking for Lana Del Rey remixes.
- I do hope to get back on this writing thing. I have some stories that I'd like to put down before I forget them.
- Ruckazoid soooo sounds like Michael, it's disgusting.
- The Jays look like a capable team this year . . . Capable of disappointing! ZING! Maybe after last season's shit show, I might put down $12 and see them this year.
- I might bring back "Shitty Blue Jay," and anoint a certain Dustin McGowan as the unluckiest, and shittiest blue jay. Thoughts?
sky ferreira - everything is embarrassing(twin shadow remix)
shiny toy guns - fading, listening(treasure fingers epicwave mix)
miike snow - paddling out(penguin prison remix)
breakbot ft. ruckazoid - why
friendly fires - skeleton boy(grum remix)
two door cinema club - sleep alone(betaucue remix)
crystal castles - violent youth
morgan page ft. tegan and sara - body work
tegan and sara - closer
Quickly:
- I've taken a break for a little while and decided not to update, and not to write. I might be back, or not.
- All I do is troll the internet looking for Lana Del Rey remixes.
- I do hope to get back on this writing thing. I have some stories that I'd like to put down before I forget them.
- Ruckazoid soooo sounds like Michael, it's disgusting.
- The Jays look like a capable team this year . . . Capable of disappointing! ZING! Maybe after last season's shit show, I might put down $12 and see them this year.
- I might bring back "Shitty Blue Jay," and anoint a certain Dustin McGowan as the unluckiest, and shittiest blue jay. Thoughts?
I will be helping my brother dj an all 80's stag and doe for my friends Steve and Julia. I figured that 80's music would be my wheelhouse when it comes to djing, but I'm actually having a hard time flowing it all together. It will be a very interesting night. Check out the flyer below for more information, or click here to pre-buy tickets. Or you can contact me.
I'm opening up for my brother DJ VinnieV. An 80's-themed buck and doe. Vin will rock the place with all of the hits. I'll try to warm everybody up.
Here is my rough set:
When In Rome - The Promise
The Buggles - Video Killed the Radio Star
Wang Chung - Everybody Have Fun Tonight
Peter Cetera - Glory Of Love/Joe Esposito - You're the Best
Beastie Boys - She's Crafty
Nu Shooz - I Can't Wait
Bananarama - Cruel Summer
Baltimora - Tarzan Boy
Prince - Kiss
Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up
Depeche Mode - Everything Counts
Billy Ocean - Caribbean Queen
Information Society - What's On Your Mind?
Yaz - Situation
ABC - The Look Of Love
Jermaine Stewart - We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off
Rockwell & Michael Jackson - Somebody's Watching Me
The Gap Band - You Dropped A Bomb On Me
Ready For the World - Oh Sheila
Duran Duran - Hungry Like the Wolf
Stacey Q - Two Of Hearts
Real Life - Send Me An Angel
Prince - I Would Die 4 U
Pretty Poison - Catch Me/Journey - Don't Stop Believing
I'm sure things will change between now and the 29th, so this won't be verbatim. Just a quick go at her.
In the 90's, my brother and I had a three-piece band called Curtis Mathis. It was named after a tv. We wrote songs, played around for a bit, then released a split 7" with another band called Cartoon Khaki called Naked Boys, Naked Boys, Sweaty, Glistening, Naked Boys! We pressed 500 copies, and still have oodles and oodles of vinyl leftover!
Most of the songs that my brother and I collaborated on were just childish attempts at songwriting. We did our best to fill a live set. Even though we released the best representation of us in vinyl form, most of the songs from our sets were never recorded. Hell, I haven't even tried to revisit those songs in close to 20 years!
My brother recently suggested that we try and record those lost tracks. In this day and age of technology, it would be on the cheap. I'm still thinking about it.
We'll try to keep you updated on whether or not we go through the recording process or not. I'm still not keen on unearthing some of those songs. I feel that those pieces of writing were a part of the past, and feel no need to rehash.
I again apologize for the lack of posts. On vacay with the fam-dam for a while, so the entries have been nonexistent. Here we go:
Jesse Litsch Tells It Like It Is
Nothing much happened on the week before I took a hiatus. Dix N Chix lost again miserably. Awful start, clawed back late. Way late. By the time we were ready to play, the opposition were already packing their equipment, enjoying their easy win.
The heat was kind of an issue with all of us. We were kind of listless when we took the field. It was tough to care when one: you team is losing, very badly. and two: when it's hot as fuck, and all you're doing when you move, is breathe fire in and out of your lungs. Anyway, it was a bad scene.
I went 0 for 3 at the plate. All horrible, lazy hits.
The umpire at the game looked exactly like Jesse Litsch, that fat dickskin that used to pitch for the Blue Jays. After the game, he mentioned to me that I was reaching for every ball that I swung at. Everything out of the strike zone. I thought about it long after the game was over, and then I said, 'fuck that fat piece of shit Jesse-Litsch-lookalike! I'll swing at whatever I want!'
I think maybe next time though, I'll swing the bat with my eyes open.
The Week After: The Tie!
This week's edition of Dix N Chix were a completely different team. We were loud, confident, and had flashes of being fundamentally sound. I found myself growling from the outfield, and I could feel the opposition, unfortunately named The Poisonous BeeYotches, shitting their pants a little.
I hit a leadoff home run to start the game, the first of my three hits of the game. A couple of things led to a change in my productivity at the plate: first, during my vacation time with the family, I snuck out to the batting cages and refined a couple of things to transition me into a pull hitter. I came into the game confident of pulling anything, including my nuts. Second, our regular home run hitter brought in a new bat to break in. I love using new things. His bat had an odd weight distribution to it, where it was heavy on the end, and was hard to get the body used to it. The bat was tailored for my swing, which was slow and lumbering.
I ripped the ball down the third base line for a triple on my second at bat. I am now a pull hitter.
The team were showing improvement on the defensive side. We were communicating well, defending, and even backing each other up, which I never thought would catch on. We were pretty good on the basepaths as well, showing a lot of hustle, making the BeeYotches look like the real deal, making error after error on their throws.
My last at bat. Bottom of the last inning, the 7th or whatever it was. Two out. Game tied. Runners in scoring position. I loved that situation. Put me in that place every time and I'll always come through. Not this time, though, as I hit into a fielder's choice, and I'm growling and freaking out, wanting to do it over again.
Yup. Dix N Chix are still looking for that elusive win. Of course, I'd love for my baseball games to be as lush and crisp and green as the picture above, but alas, it's never like the pictures. In reality, we play on a handful of fields that are poorly maintained, at best. At least the field last night had benches and bleachers to plop our asses down on.
The picture above is how I envision myself when I'm out there, in a romantical(it's my new word) way. Hell, we both possess the same number.
Again, there is this thing with this team. We have the potential to be good. But we don't tend to wake up until the late innings, when the game's already out of hand. I think last night's score was a very competitive 14-7, but that alone is deceiving. At one point, we were on the losing side of 7-0, then compounded to a 14-2, before we realized that we were in a ballgame.
I went 2 for 3, with some cheap singles. The only ball I hit with authority was a lazy fly to left. The swing is under construction. I took some hacks at the fastball cages last week and made some adjustments. The big home run hitter on our team referred to a dude on Youtube, maybe 5 foot-fuck-all, hitting home runs with consistency.
"All about swing mechanics," he says.
Before the change in my swing, I was asking him what he was doing while he was in the batters box before clobbering the ball.
"I'm thinking about everything. My wrists, my grip, where my feet are, where the bat head is placed. Everything."
And you wonder why my swing got messed up? Talking to team's slugger butt fucked everything.
The fielding was relatively okay. We held the opposition a few times. We played some fundamentally sound baseball for a few innings, but the errors through the overthrows, getting burned in the outfield, and just good hitting from the opposition did us in.
I made one out on a liner to shallow left. I also took an awful route to a grounder to the outfield, and the ball squibbed through my legs. The picture below illustrates.
Next week we'll be better. Unless we're not.
NOTES:
- If anyone knows that YouTube guy's name, please scroll to the right and email me. God knows I could use the direction.
- Just finished The Art Of Fielding by Chad Harbach. Got through it in a day and a half. As I keep telling my wife, "I don't read anything except baseball books and vintage porn." I don't count gay erotica as porn though, so sorry Chad Harbach, you only met 1 out of my 2 requirements. Good try.
Team lost 15-5. At the beginning of the game we finally received our shirts. Baby blue with 'DIX AND CHIX,' in hot pink. At least now we can say that we lose in a colourful manner.
I went 0 for 2, lining out hard both times. My swing is fucked.
Caught a ball hit on a line, and I nonchalantly got it. I made an outfielder's motion to indicate the outs, and some guy on the other team called me Colby.
So, I'm weeks into my new slo-pitch team. It's been years since I made MVP of the league in Hamilton. I was so meticulous with stats then. Now, I don't even bother.
I know this year, I've hit a grand slam, 2 triples, lots of legged out singles. This year, is about fun. I stress 'fun,' every game, since losing isn't at all part of my makeup. And all we do is lose. I think we're 0-8 this season.
I'm patrolling either right or left center in the outfield, and can runanything down. When I first started playing at a late age, I didn't want anyone to hit it my way. I prayed at every at bat that nobody would hit the ball to me to expose the flaws of my defence. I really prayed until I tried to catch a lazy fly ball with my chest. I remember playing the rest of that season with what felt like some cracked ribs. These days, I can't wait for chumps to hit it my way.
Last night's game was the worst night to play, with the day's heat just lingering on. It just felt like my cleats melted on the grass. I made a boneheaded groundball play where it went between my legs. A lazy fly ball that I got to, trickled off my glove. I finally made a play for the year with a line drive putout. I felt like Cletus Rasmus at center, making it look routine, which I may say, is not a bad thing. The mercy rule was put upon us, 20-5. Yuck.
I'm also a pesky baserunner. I run hard at everything, because the coach on my first team would have my head if I didn't hustle and use my speed on the basepaths. Last night, I slid hard at 2 bases. The guys on the other team liked the intense way I played. I'm the only one out there getting dirty. Maybe I should have hooked up with them.
My batting swing this year is totally fucked. I'm usually a straight line drive hitter, but this year I feel totally out of shape, and it feels like I'm not hitting with any authority. There's this guy on my team that hits huge home runs, and after talking with him and what he goes through in his head at every at bat, my swing is as worse as ever. He recommended that I quit going the opposite way and start extending my arms and pull the ball. The results are brutal.
Anyway, dear readers, I'll keep you posted. This is supposed to be 'fun,' right?
I made it. I was freaking out on Kelly Johnson and maybe Luis Perez over the major league level showers. I was jumping up and down in front of them and they were giggling. I was in awe.
My role was to cover Colby Rasmus at center. I was shagging flies with him out on the field and was amazed at how much ground he covered, his glove was a magnet to all those fly balls. It was impossible for me to do what he does. Just last week, I misjudged an easy fly at softball. Nevertheless, John Farrell said, "if Colby's out, you're in," which was a great boost for my confidence.
After warm-up, the guys decided to have a round of 'bieber my balls,' where we all gathered in a circle and knee'd each other in the crotch, crane-style. Extra points were given to the guys who got both knees in. Jason Frasor was my partner, and he was easy to bieber.
After my turn, I realized that it was close to game time, and I was out of uniform. I was sitting on a bench in front of the lockers watching Colby Rasmus hurriedly getting dressed. Right beside his locker was mine, getting restocked, I just sat there marvelling over my last name in blue and white.
- I was a heavy metallist in the early 90's, before Kurt Cobain obliterated my people with his shitty Fender Jazzmaster. I had to bury my metal tendencies deep down and began to appreciate technically shitty and very lazy indie rock(remember Pavement, anyone?). I went through all kinds of transformations and progressions, but kept my metal roots. Moving into electronic music was an organic transition, since indie rock and all of it's shittiness was becoming very boring, and was trying to shift in that direction anyway.
- The Moon Boots/Jupiter/Lana Del Rey section is awesome. I'm enjoying the use of Virtual DJ. The song to song transitions are starting to get less sloppy now.
- I went to one of the last Disco/Punk's that I will ever attend, and DJ Nights played something so killer, that I had to ask him who the fuck it was. Breakbot.
- Disco/Punk no longer exists in Hamilton. My wife and I are looking for another one. Any suggestions? We are trying to follow the title of this mix. Reply below or e-mail me.
