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Throwing Cards at a Hat in the Clubhouse
The I-Cubs are supposed to play at noon today, but I wouldn't count on it. It's been raining for hours and isn't supposed to stop. So I thought I'd rummage through the fridge and throw something together while waiting for the draft to resume.
I've linked a couple articles below. One announces Mitch Atkins' selection as the PCL pitcher of the week for last week based on two strong six-inning starts. The other quotes Skipper Sandberg as confirming his interest in the position of Oriole manager if his old pal Andy MacPhail called and offered. As of this morning Ryno is 7th out of 12 candidates with 4.1% of the vote in an unscientific popularity poll that's been running in the Baltimore Sun since Dave Trembley got canned.
The I-Cubs have cooled recently and fallen to their division basement although the overall record is still just on the right side of .500.
I got to see the 7th of Hi-Ho's eight wins from the vantage point of a club box seat when he beat the Cardinals on May 29. Very precise location and a nice mix of pitches. That was the double digit strikeout day and he really worked in a nice rhythm. From little league to the bigs, you gotta love the strike-throwers. I got burned in the clubs despite lacquering up with sunscreen after shivering the day before and craning around a pole underneath the upper deck in terrace reserved. The two days were almost identical weather conditions. Ahhh, the bi-polar confines!
I also got to see one of the premiere screenings of the documentary film, "Ballhawks" that weekend which has been briefly discussed here previously. I was predisposed to like the film and was not disappointed. It figures to appeal more to baseball romanticists than statheads, although there is an aspect of number-crunching to it, and I am certainly in the former camp. I don't really have an answer to those who find the core, longtime ballhawks objectionable on the grounds that they lack lives and are stealing candy from babies, other than to suggest that it is not for anyone to be critical of another's joy in life [within reason, which I think ballhawking is]. And the ballhawks are not tramplers of children either. Frankly, they are more boyish in their adult attachments to a kids' game than are the millionaire sluggers whose homers they shag. You always hear that refrain: "they're getting paid millions for playing a kids' game." Well, the ballhawks play for nothing and I think they are as uniquely Wrigley as the ivy and the scoreboard. I heartily recommend the film if you get a chance to see it.
Grabow finally found a league where he can work a scoreless inning. Deep Threat had a three-walk frame of work the other night, but his jersey sold for the second highest amount [about $250] in the shirt-off-their-back charity fundraiser over the weekend. Sandberg's fetched over $500.
Nobody's too hot with the bat right now...
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