Posts belonging to Category Brett Phelps

Strasburg will make his 3rd major league start tonight vs. the White Sox

Grips seams tight in glove

Lets loose a blazing fastball

Circle K – sit down

Mark Reynolds was golden on Saturday against the Cardinals

Hat trick plus uno

Awful day for fantasy

Golden sombrero

“Love has its sonnets galore. War has its epics in heroic verse. Tragedy its sombre story in measured lines. Baseball has Casey at the Bat.” – Albert Spalding

This is my modern take (my remix, if you will) on Ernest L. Thayer’s classic 1888 poem, Casey at the Bat. Anyone that takes the time to check their fantasy squad daily (or multiple times daily for you real nerds) but has never taken the 60 seconds required to read this poetic piece of baseball lore should offer up their testicles (or ovaries, ladies) for batting practice.  After reading Señor Towel’s piece, mentioning baseball’s most sacred stanzas, I got to wondering what it would be like if Casey had played in my lifetime instead of Wee Willie Keeler’s.  And I’m sorry Wee Willie but these days – chicks dig the long ball!

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Legendary college hoops coach John Wooden passed away last Friday, June 4.  The renowned strategist and mentor, best known for his 10 titles in 12 seasons at UCLA, was ninety nine years young.  Wooden was revered by those who played under his tutelage, remembered fondly as a strict disciplinarian and master motivator.  He accumulated a vast amount of wisdom throughout his years, eventually earning the nickname the Wizard of Westwood.  Since his death many articles have been written sharing some of his greatest nuggets of knowledge.  The old man really was a modern day Confucius, and his words will surely be passed down for generations to come.  While reflecting on some of these axioms, it occurred to me that many could be useful in either describing or advising some of our greatest sports heroes.  So call me Big Pun, because what we’ve got here is a list of proverbs from Mr. Wooden himself dedicated to some of sport’s biggest stars

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May 31, 2010

I was certainly more raised on baseball than I was on hip hop.  I was whiffing at balls on a tee for my preschool squad and Baltimore choppin’ in the batting cages before Biggie and Pac ever started beefin’.  I knew California Love and was vaguely familiar with some other more popular rap of the day, but didn’t really get into hip hop until my older brother Griff played me Dr. Dre’s seminal Chronic 2001.  It was labeled parental advisory and I’m not sure how he even acquired it but knowing what a vile opinion our parents held of rap music we didn’t dare bump that shit in the house.  The only place we could safely blast such depraved filth was in Griff’s Ford Exploder and I’ll be damned if we weren’t bumpin’ the Doc just about every day on the way to school my 8^th grade year, two years after I had actually stopped playing baseball.

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