The early start in Japan and all the associated drama finished, the next few days drag on until the M's season restarts on Thursday. There are workouts and Fanfest, two more exhibitions with the Padres, then resumption of the real season. And, of course, one big flip in the roster: Inchiro gone, Mallex Smith ready to play.
Partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity, I took some time to look at older, much older, posts I'd made to this blog. They go back ten years. On May 20, 2009, I wrote about baseball for the first time. Somethings never change I guess. Here's part of what I said then:
I grew up a Dodger fan. They abandoned Brooklyn but liberated southern California when I was in the 8th grade. Somehow I'd already become addicted to the game, following from the west coast the exploits of the Cincinnati Reds and my hero Ted Kluszewski starting a couple of years earlier. The arrival of the Dodgers three years later was truly a dream come true.
I never look at Daniel Vogelbach that I don't think of Big Klu. Vogie, by the way, is the cause of one of my most embarrassing moments. It was close to a year ago at the M's home opener. You can read all about it here in my Facebook post the next day:
https://www.facebook.com/100000957770498/posts/1933650526676854/
I'm not sure the video link is still active, but you'll get the idea.
Partly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity, I took some time to look at older, much older, posts I'd made to this blog. They go back ten years. On May 20, 2009, I wrote about baseball for the first time. Somethings never change I guess. Here's part of what I said then:
There's just no way I can talk over any period of time and not get around to baseball. It has been a passion since I was 8 and today still represents a major interest… all of it, the game, the history, the statistics, the physical activity. Tom Boswell used to speak of the "flash of the green," that first glimpse of the field seen as you enter a stadium tunnel: so full of promise, so inviting. Baseball has been a pastime, both active and passive, and a metaphor for a lot of things in my life. Not a day passes, at least from the start of spring training in February to World Series' final out, that doesn't find me thinking about it.
I grew up a Dodger fan. They abandoned Brooklyn but liberated southern California when I was in the 8th grade. Somehow I'd already become addicted to the game, following from the west coast the exploits of the Cincinnati Reds and my hero Ted Kluszewski starting a couple of years earlier. The arrival of the Dodgers three years later was truly a dream come true.
June 28, 1959 (exactly 14 years to the day my son Matt was born) marks the moment of the first major league baseball game I'd ever seen. By then, an aging Big Klu had been traded to the Pittsburgh Pirates. Although he didn't play that day (another poor managerial decision by skipper Danny Murtaugh) I did see him hit a ball out during BP. I failed to get his autograph after the game; he rebuffed me with a "get away, kid" and boarded the team bus. He wore a shiny green silk suit and clamped the biggest cigar I have ever seen in his mouth. My mother never forgave him, but he remained a God in my mind.
Later, now residing in the Pacific Northwest, my allegiance… suffering allegiance I should say… shifted to the Seattle Mariners. The one-year wonder Pilots preceded them and I may belong to a very small club of people who have attended every opening day of major league baseball in Seattle, starting with the Pilots in 1969, then picking up again with the Ms in 1977. Sicks Stadium to the Kingdome to Safeco… with a few notable exceptions I've seen a lot of mediocre baseball.
I never look at Daniel Vogelbach that I don't think of Big Klu. Vogie, by the way, is the cause of one of my most embarrassing moments. It was close to a year ago at the M's home opener. You can read all about it here in my Facebook post the next day:
https://www.facebook.com/100000957770498/posts/1933650526676854/
I'm not sure the video link is still active, but you'll get the idea.
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