So it’s come to August 4th, 2010, with the Astros still not dead yet in the NL Central, despite sending away Roy and Lance, and the Indians somewhat revived with a roster averaging under 27, and the Padres in first place in the NL West with great pitching and .238 hitting. And I find myself in first place in the fantasy baseball league.

I can’t remember when I have been in first place in fantasy beisbol, and it is likely not for long, but it has been fun to see my lineups produce, with several rookies leading the pace in their respective positions, and with die-hards Evan Longoria and Brian Wilson holding their own.

August is a semi-satisfying time of year, nestled just before September call-ups and at the start of heated-up pennant races. August is neither summer nor fall, and thus capable of raising hopes while dashing them a day later. But August is still for dreaming.

None of the previous copy would have made any sense to me in my childhood reveries about baseball.

The NL teams, the divisions, the very idea of “fantasy baseball”—these did not yet exist. Baseball was still a wonderfully compact mystery of faraway midwestern cities (Kansas City, Baltimore), gorgeously unpronounceable uniform names that didn’t fit into agate type box scores (Aspromonte, Amalfitano: they both ended up playing for the Houston Colt 45s), and two equally balanced though stretched AL and NL leagues of 8 (LA and SF now made for quite a journey for any team east of St. Louis).

I’ve had 57 Augusts, and thus 57 pennant races, as I head into my 58th year on Sept. 5th. My earliest memory of a significant pennant race is probably 1959, when I was 7. It was the year the White Sox won the pennant over the Indians with speed and defense, and Cleveland had great pitching and slugging. Imagine, the Indians in a pennant race—it actually was more common than you would think. The winner would face the transplanted Los Angeles Dodgers, two years removed from Brooklyn, whence they last were in the World Series.

This would be my first remembrance of caring purposefully about a team and not just a player or two. The Indians were in a pennant race. I remember being excited by finding out that Gillette blades came with a little booklet of rosters and schedule for the whole year.

I had not yet discovered The Sporting News which featured the box scores of all the games from the previous week, even the West Coast ones that hardly ever appeared in the local papers. (How was one to find out, pre-internet, ESPN, or late night news, how your team did on the West Coast?) So this little orange booklet was a real find, a gold mine, a treasure so amazing, that listed player names and numbers! O brave new world that has such things in it!

Expansion would eventually come to the AL in 1961 (with teams in Los Angeles and Minnesota–the Angels, and the Twins, the latter inheriting the Senators roster and Washington being the expansion team), followed in 1962 by two NL teams (Astros and the Mets), but they would not split into two divisions for 7 years, making for a lot of disappointed fans come August each year. So it was your team against the seven others in a single “division.” 1959 was the last great year for pennant races, and it boasted not one, but two All-Star games a month apart (July 7 in Pittsburgh; August 3, LA Coliseum). Wow!

Anyway, I remember being outside on one of those hot, mid-August Akron OH days in 1959 pretending to be an outfielder taking away home runs near the top of my grandfather’s garage, and doing play by play. The Gillette booklet in my back pocket gave me the real names of real ballplayers to use in my commentary and near home run calls. The Indians batters (say, Woody Held or Rocky Colavito) would, of course, exceed my grasp and win the game for the home team Indians. (BTW Rocky was the AL home run champ in 1959—and still was traded to the Tigers in 1960!)

Indians alas faded in July and August, leading till then dog days of summer, but losing the pennant by 5 games, after being only 2 games behind on Sept. 20, and despite such formidable batters and pitchers as Vic Power and Tito Francona (Terry’s dad), and Mudcat Grant and Jim Perry; but this was the year the Sox’ Luis Aparicio (“the Go-Go Sox”) established himself as a star through his lead-off and base-stealing prowess, and C Sherman Lollar, 2B Nellie Fox, and OF Jim Landis had superb years. All the names are still fresh for me, but carry with them the whiff of August, my dad and mom, and intense radio surveillance of the Indians.

The White Sox started fast in Comiskey (a 11-0 first game rout), but wilted themselves under the sublime pitching of the Dodgers, who had to win a one-game playoff game against the (Milwaukee) Braves. Oh what names the Dodgers roster sported: pitchers Drysdale, Podres, Koufax, sluggers Snider, Hodges, Moon!!

The White Sox could only muster one more win, the fifth game, and simply couldn’t tame the Dodgers, who played in the spacious LA Coliseum—check the dimensions for Left field (251.6 ft.!) and the attendance for the LA games (92,000)! They were day games, all of them then, and I rushed home from school to see if the games were still on at 3:30. I was glad for the LA games; for they did not start until 4:00 EST!

The icons of the sport, the color and design of the home and away uniforms, the records broken or established, the urban greenery of a storied ballpark or random diamonds seen from an aerial view, the magical, magisterial voices of hometeam broadcasters rendering a game with the unique lore and jargon of baseball (“he stood there like the house by the side of the road”), oh the mighty power of memory to distill or capture a moment, even a whole summer in the mention of a single ballplayer or his hometown.

This is the part of baseball’s attraction that is unduplicated by the NFL or NBA, or any other sport, its standing as a uniquely American though increasingly worldwide phenomenon. I know there is someone just like me in Japan and Venzeuela and Australia and South Korea this very moment savoring a local or national or international baseball memory, from the present or from the past. A box score from last night.

Ah, baseball. Thanks for keeping me going every August these past 57 years, and some more Augusts to come, I hope.

Post Spoiled Sport

The thing about rooting for a team, any team—and I originally cared about the San Diego Chargers because (1) Marty Schottenheimer coached them and (2) my son lived there—is that you have some focal point for what is, in essence, a fabulously fickle endeavor.

I mean, here are millionaires competing against millionaires on behalf of billionaires and media moguls. So why should it matter to me to wear powder blue or #21 on a Sunday afternoon and feel sad when they lose? Were they playing for you?

Yes, in a sense. First, it’s vicarious fun to pretend to have something resting on a team’s victory, even if they could care less if you are following them. Second, it’s fun to think of a rival you wish you vanquish, even if the teams don’t even play in your vicinity. Third, you do have associations with certain teams and players that transcend the immediate presence and register personal loyalties and memories between you and your sons and daughter.

Fourth, when your team is playing one of your family’s teams—like the Jets yesterday, and next week, the Colts—you have appropriately mixed emotions, but really you can’t lose. If your team doesn’t win, your loved one’s does. Finally, there are some nice touches and ironies to some games. Yesterday, Brian Schottenheimer, Marty’s son, coached the offense against the team that unceremoniously fired his dad three years ago after a 14-2 season:

Marty’s boy, Brian, the offensive coordinator of the Jets, had just done his part Sunday orchestrating an offense with a rookie quarterback and a rookie running back into an upset of the Chargers that left the locals just as deflated as they were in 2006. And as a light rain fell on this crumbling place, Brian took out his cell phone, dialed his dad’s number, heard him say, “Hello,” and son said to father: “Dad, this one’s for you.” (Peter King, SI)

Thanks, Brian. I like that. And I love the idea that dads and sons and daughters have this bond, this connection that all sports lovers understand. A common team, an affection for certain colors, and a Sunday afternoon of watching or listening together, even if a continent apart. It’s the communion of saints, the communion of sports, the joy of victory and the agony of defeat, shared in the expectation that next season we’ll all get our chance again.

Giants*, Jets, Cavs, Chargers, Indians, Browns, Astros, Texans, Colts, Brewers, Padres. Go team(s)! Someday soon, we’ll win.


*At least the venerable Giants won a Super Bowl while we were all watching! ;-)

Ready 4 the Game

Ready 4 the game from Bruce Edwards on Vimeo.

Ol #21 gets ready in the laundry room.

Reading Bill Simmons’ BIG BOOK OF BASKETBALL inspired me on this winter day to list my own greatest pro sports moments. It’s too early for baseball, but i am restless and Simmons’ sportswriting is motivating. You may not like the teams that he roots for (Boston–uggh, I don’t) but he deeply understands what it is to love sports and to be a fan and, thus, to experience the emotional uplift and the depression they bring, season to season.

These items represent things I have seen in person or watched on tv or listened to on the radio–and their common denominator is not that they changed sports history as much as they represented for the Edwards clan in the moment a thrilling performance in which we had something invested for me, or for family heritage.


  1. Kirk’s Gibson’s homerun against the Oakland A’s, coming off the bench with a bad leg and two outs in the ninth, and two clear strikes. I was already in bed, listening on the radio; there two outs and the guy in front of him, Mike Davis, drew a walk, setting up the dramatic moment. So I got up. The homerun comes on a three-two count. Just watched it again. Tearing-up, again. A Village Drive special. (Oct. 15, 1988).
  2. LeBron James’ single-handed destruction of the Detroit Pistons in which he scored 29 of the last 30 pts. for the Cavs–virtually every point from the third quarter on and through the trumphant overtime. It was astonishing and ridiculous at the same time. We were texting throughout! (June 1, 2007).
  3. Chris Burke’s 18th inning HR in the greatest NLCS playoff, maybe greatest baseball game ever (Roger Clemens even pinch-hitted!), coming the heels of a miraculous comeback against the Braves, led by Lance Berkman (Grand Slam HR in the 8th) and sustained by Brad Ausmus with dramatic HR in the bottom of the 9th! All HRS here. Scroll to Oct. 9 Justin & I consulted by phone! (October 9, 2005).
  4. Eli Manning’s pass to David Tyree with 59 seconds sets NY Giants up to beat the hated Patriots in the last 40 seconds during their “19-0″ (18-1) season. I immediately thought of Justin with Matt in SD. Amazing. (February 4, 2008)
  5. Another LeBron moment: his rescue of the Cavs in the last seconds of the Orlando finals (May 22, 2009).
  6. Doug Flutie’s Hail Mary . I still can’t believe I saw this (he was playing against Bernie Kosar on Miami’s sidelines) and saw it live on TV–just about to flip the channel. (Nov. 23, 1984).
  7. Vince Young’s scramble wins Rose Bowl. The greatest collegiate football performance ever. Another watched in the old 1040 Village house on the big square Sony. (Jan. 4, 2006).
  8. Not a touching moment, but an unforgettable one, that takes its place among 3 Cleveland Browns painful sports moments that we cannot forget: Brian Sipe’s famous RED RIGHT 88 vs. Oakland in semi-finals of 1980 playoffs. Watched in Austin TX from our barracks apartment. Yes, I could not speak the rest of the day. (Jan. 4, 1980). I didn’t feel good again until Justin arrived in March. ;-)
  9. Larry Bird steal, pass, layup, triumph over Pistons. Matt was 12 years old. Nice to see the Pistons lose. (May 26, 1987).
  10. Don Larsen’s perfect game in 1956 world series. I watched this with my mom–and didn’t even know what I was watching at the time, let alone historic baseball! I had only turned 4 years old barely a month earlier. But it lodged baseball deep in my heart (Oct. 8, 1956).

BONUS PICK:
  • Boise State dismantles Oklahoma in 2007 Fiesta Bowl. Great David over Goliath triumph.

  • It’s Only Fair that I. . .

    complete my post-August baseball playoff predictions, since I did the NFL Saturday.


    AMERICAN DS

  • Boston (wild card) vs. Angels; Angels win 4-1
  • New York vs. Detroit; Yankees win 4-2

    NATIONAL DS

  • Colorado (wild card) vs. St. Louis; Rockies win 4-2
  • LA vs. Phila.; Dodgers win 4-3

    angelsNLCS

    Rockies beat Dodgers in 7

    ALCS
    Angels beat Yankees in 7


    WORLD SERIES
    Angels beat Rockies in 6

  • I Have the World’s Password

    eaiSince the beisbol season is long over with, and the Padres and Indians playing their best rookies, and the Astros looking for somebody under 30 who can hit or pitch, it’s time to turn attention to my NFL predictions for 2009-10.


    NFC

    WEST: Seattle; CENTRAL: Minnesota; EAST: NY Giants; SOUTH: New Orleans; WILD CARDS: Philadelphia; Atlanta


    AFC

    WEST: San Diego; CENTRAL: Baltimore; EAST: Miami; SOUTH: Tennessee; WILD CARDS: Indianapolis; Cleveland.


    NFC FIRST ROUND:

    Falcons over Seattle; Vikings over Eagles;

    AFC FIRST ROUND:

    Colts over Ravens; Browns over Dolphins;


    NFC Championship Round: Giants over Vikings; Saints over Seahawks; Saints over Giants.

    AFC Championship Round: Chargers over Browns; Colts over Tennessee; Chargers over Colts;


    SUPER BOWL: Chargers over Saints, but Brees outplays Rivers for MVP.

    Names = World Conspiracy?

    bliueblazersDid you ever notice trends in baseball surnames? Once upon a time, it seemed every star was named Alou, Mota, Rodriguez, or Yazstremski. (Ok, maybe not Yazstremski.) A preponderance of certain surnames in any one era could pose a Buckaroo-Banzai-like conspiracy dilemma (Were they all born on October 31st and named “John”? Any named Big Booty?)

    But how about this: 9 (nine!) MLB players now share the surname, Cabrera.

    Look here:

  • Alex Cabrera
  • Asdrubal Cabrera
  • Daniel Cabrera
  • Everth Cabrera
  • Fernando Cabrera
  • Jolbert Cabrera
  • Melky Cabrera
  • Miguel Cabrera
  • Orlando Cabrera

    I can’t think of a natural explanation, can you? Did all the Cabrera moms and dads who weren’t raising their lads to be baseball stars suddenly decide to buy them pitchbacks and spikes? And when Cabrera becomes so common, and the worldwide Cabrera conspiracy is unleashed, it’s no wonder someone reaches down into Assyrian history and, for uniqueness sake, decides, “Aha, Asdrubal is the name for this baby shortshop!”

    But wait, there’s more. These five are on their way from A, AA, and AAA ball:

  • lberto Cabrera
  • Angel Cabrera
  • Edwar Cabrera
  • Francis Cabrera
  • Willie Cabrera

    Mr. and Mrs. Cabrera(s), wherever you are, thanks for shouldering the load of producing prodigious major leaguers. (And can you let us know if you are planning to take over the world? I will get the Blue Blazer Irregulars ready.)

  • April Showers

    April can’t come to a close soon enough for anyone who cares about the Indians or Astros. Weak hitting for good pitching, poor pitching (especially in relief) when the good hitting shows up. Nothing much to root for because you keep waiting for the Bad Inning. Listlessness is not a good mode for baseball lovers. “What else can happen!” You know, two hrs to Prince Caspian Fielder.cb-baseball-rain

    For a while, the Padres had that mystique thing going; a team that is competing that shouldn’t through hustle and hard work every out, every inning. But one trip to San Diego and a wasted weekend with their pitching (including Peavy!) and your hopes for an interesting dilemma (rooting for someone like the Astros or Indians) are dashed.

    We need the sun to start heating things up. No one looks like they are having fun playing in April weather, except maybe the Pirates and Mariners.

    But they both belong to the sea.

    Print this Page

    « Backward in time