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The Case of Roger Clemens vs. the Little League World Series

This time of year most kids are trudging back to school, reluctantly returning to once again counting down the days until vacation. Baseball season is long over and the biggest drama they’re facing is upcoming homework, projects and book reports. But one lucky group of kids gets to hold onto summer holiday a bit longer than the rest. Those kids have dedicated the summer, and probably much of their young lives, to the dream of playing baseball on the biggest stage. Each won their respective city, state, and regional qualifying tournaments and earned the right to represent their hometown in the Little League World Series.

Wide eyed and full of ambition, every last week of August youngsters from around the globe descend upon South Williamsport, Pennsylvania for the only youth sporting spectacle that still captures the imagination of grown men. At that age every kid with a hat and glove thinks he can make it to the big leagues and they play with that spirit every pitch. We know the action we’re watching might not be Major League-sized, but the heart and excitement sure is.

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Welcome to Summer: The College World Series begins

After watching the USA claw back into a draw with some tiny Eastern European country this morning, I’m feeling a little proud to be an American.  With the College World Series set to begin tomorrow and Ron Ron’s single apparently dropping sometime in the near future, it’s a pretty fun time in sports.  The best part about this time of year for me, though, is that the sports world only has baseball to follow (and US soccer every 4 years) until the damn NFL season starts.  I personally hate football and don’t really care for basketball either.  Hockey is not a sport in New Mexico, but from what I gather, other places unfortunately seem to care about it.  To me, these other sports are simply a massive distraction to the public and divert conversation and concentration away from the one game that actually deserves to be followed.  What I am getting at here is that for folks who primarily/only care about baseball, get ready for the best 2 months of the year.

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John Wooden: Confucius of the Court

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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Stay the Fuck Off My Mound!

April 27, 2010

braden

Dallas Braden 4/22/10 – “It’s a shame because that guy is a tremendous talent a superstar in every sense of the word and he plays for a very classy org who always do things first class the right way every time. And for him to not understand the baseball etiquette of running across that pitchers mound is right next to terrible and inexcusable.  I’m not a speck on his radar and that’s fine, but he will know I was out there, and he will know not to do that again because there will be repercussions if he does that again.”

A large smile crept across my face as I saw the video clip and listened to Braden tell Alex Rodriguez what is what. At least there was still one pitcher in baseball willing to stand up for himself before he won a Cy Young award or an ERA title.  Ever since baseball began keeping statistics for every game in the late 1800’s the sport has vacillated between offensive and defensive eras.  The early years or “dead ball” era saw very few homeruns and poor defense.  Afterwards Babe Ruth stormed on the scene and boosted the offensive output of the league.  By the 1960’s the scoring outputs were so low that the league felt compelled the lower the pitchers mound.  A more moderate period followed which game way to the offensive era we have seen since the early 1990’s.  In this more modern era ballparks have shrunk to a fraction of the size they were at the Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, or Candlestick park back in the day.

It seems that every move including a complete aversion to calling the high strike has led to more and more offensive output.  In the very recent past a few rules involving ejections and warnings after what the umpire deems intentional acts have gone too far.  The pitcher has been emasculated to the point where only Cy Young award winners are willing to stand up to the game’s best hitters, but any rookie who hits a deep fly ball feels comfortable flipping his bat and trotting to first base.  Dallas Braden showed me that pitchers can still be noticed and recognized and feared.  They just have to be more willing to step up and do it.  The best pitchers of the last decade or so all had a mean streak to them.  Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson, and Pedro Martinez all struck fear in the hitters because of their big fastballs and willingness to throw the ball inside.  Even control artists Maddux and Glavine were willing to throw a pitch inside with a purpose ever now and then.  Hitters now have body armor covering every part of their body and are totally willing to hang with their elbows two or three inches over the inside corner.  It seems the only safe place for a pitcher is the small dirt mound they call home.  Alex Rodriguez thought he could show Dallas Braden up by walking slowly across the mound on his way back to first after a Robinson Cano foul ball.  I think he might flinch on an inside fastball the next time he faces Braden and once again the pitcher will have the upper hand