Chasing the Blues

The Braves Sink

The saddest story in Atlanta these days is the decline of the Braves. After winning a series in Tampa Bay a little over a week ago, the Braves appeared one of baseball's best, but since then have lost eight straight games marked by a series of mysterious maladies, from Brian McCann's "flulike symptoms" that turned out to be the true flu to Freddy Freeman's scratchy eyes.

With Freeman slumping, and now out of the lineup, glimpsed on the bench with huge Clark Kent black-framed glasses he doesn't want to wear on the field, the Braves have lost their offensive punch. Their starters and relievers have been awful, except for Craig Kimbrell, who never has a game to close these days. Tommy Hanson, whose long-awaited breakthrough to pitching stardom keeps getting derailed by horrible outings, has a curious motion, in which he freezes for a moment just before releasing the ball, as if he's trying to guide his pitches.

Outside of Michael Bourn and Martin Prado, and occasionally Dan Uggla, the Braves lineup looks anemic when compared with juggernauts like the Cardinals, now in town. Heralded "can't miss" prospect Justin Heyward displays signs of the Jeff Francoeur syndrome. With his height and long arms, his swing must travel too far to reach the plate, making it tough for him to reach outside pitches.

If the Braves don't rebound, they might turn into one of those clubs that start trading off ballplayers in the heat of summer. It might be a good idea, if they can get a good pitcher.

Michael Bourn Boosts Braves

The Braves' Michael Bourn shows that a baseball player with speed running the bases can give as much excitement as a football touchdown pass, a basketball fast break and the 100-meter dash. ... Bourn gives the Braves the true leadoff man they've rarely had, even in their glory years under Bobby Cox. ...With Josh Hamilton's four home runs drawing attention to one of baseball's rarest feats, it's a wonder that one of the steriod boys didn't hit five or six home runs in a game. ...The NBA keeps playing. Quick, can you name all of the teams left? Commissioner David O'Brien must be dreading an Indiana-San Antonio or Indiana-Oklahoma City final. ...I keep trying to get interested in the New York Rangers-New Jersey Devils series, but hockey ramains a tough sell on TV. ...The loss of Chris Bosh stirs panic in the Miami Heat ranks. Apparently in landing all of that talent, Pat Riley neglected to sign a backup big man.

 

Chipper Jones Painting a Final Masterpiece

Baseball history is filled with stories of great players who stayed too long, embarassing themselves in their final season. The rare scenario is the player who goes out in a final burst of glory, such as the Atlanta Braves' Chipper Jones is accomplishing this year.

Jones, who announced his retirement in spring training, is putting together a magical final season, with several dramatic home runs and other hits and stellar defensive play at third base. He is accomplishing this with two bum knees, which preventshim from playing every day.

I always thought Jones was a good, but not great, player, but I've changed my mind because of his work this spring, as well as recent years. With his bat control and his ability to hit the pitch wherever its location, he will finish with a high batting average. He doesn't have the power he used to, and is unlikely to finish with the 500 home runs that would guarantee his spot in Cooperstown, but he still has a home run stroke. He is the unquestioned leader of the team, looked at as a peerless mentor by his young teammates.

Braves, and baseball fans, are being treated to a rare occurrence, a MVP caliber season in Jones' final chapter of a career marked by unusual loyalty to one team and apparently a shunning of steroids while playing in an era marred by them. Fans should cherish every last Chipper moment. We are seeing one of the greats, a baseball virtuouso.

The Saints, and Saint Tebow

A lovely winter Saturday, waiting to see if the Saints can whip the 49ers. After the LSU BCS debacle, I would love the healing of a Saints win. As usual, the Saints-49ers game holds SEC ties, with Ole Miss' Patrick Willis leading the '49er defense. I remember him almost single handedly beating LSU on a game I heard over the crackling radio signal from WWL. Only a four or five years ago, unlike today, every game wasn't televised.

After the Saints, I won't be able to hold myself away from watching Tim Tebow and the Broncos take on the Patriots. Saint Tim vs. cool Tim a week after Saint Tim vs. Randy Ben. Now Tebow's really receiving the big media attention, with a front page feature Saturday by The New York Times' Dan Barry and a sidebar by Richard Sandimor, and pieces in the Wall Street Journal.

Funny, Barry used a Jim Thorpe reference about Tom Brady, when I see Tebow as a throwback to the old NFL guys of the 1920s. The way he plunges forward, not sliding to the ground to avoid being hit like other NFL qbs (such as Brady) brings to mind Bronco Nagurski. The kid had some pretty good throws against the Steelers, and it looks as if the Broncos have come up with some plays going left to help him with his southpaw throws. Tebow also reminds me of old guys like Billy Kilmer and Bobby Layne who weren't the greatest passers in the world but just knew how to win. 

The Journal even had a thumb-sucker about whether Tim's wins are divinely inspired. That seems ridiculous, but who knows? In most cases, I would be put off by someone who makes as big a show of religion as Tebow does, but I find his "Tebowing" and praise of Jesus something new and different. It looks like honest emotion, something all too rare in America these days. With all of his modesty and affirmation of his virginity, Tebow does endorse Jockey shorts. I was amused to see that Jockey has posted a photo of Tebow on its web site, wearing Jockeys with no shirt. Hmmm, there is something gay about the way Tim talks. And what's with that beard?

Along with old-time NFL players from the Red Grange era, Tebow recalls a much older tradition, the medieval virtuous knight. His popularity/notoriety proves the power of even ancient cultural icons.

The NFL always succeeds in capturing the public's imagination. Major League baseball and the NBA can't ever find anything as dramatic and controversial as Tebow. God might not be backing the Broncs, but the NfL surely may be. If the Broncos win tonight, will we start to suspect that the games are rigged to get Tebow to the Super Bowl? I generally eschew conspiracy theory thinking, but sometimes I wonder. Just imagine the Saints vs. the Saint. 

Houston Astros Going to the American League

My years as a Houston Astros fan will enter a new stage in a couple of years, when the 'Stros head into the American League. From reports, Major League Baseball bribed the new owner, whose name I don't recall presently, by greatly reducing the purchase price for the team, which might have been the worst in baseball history last year. As an Astros fan, I had the unpleasantness of watching former Astros players on almost every playoffs team this fall. Perhaps the new guy can use the payoff money from MLB to rebuild the franchise, just recently quite competitive.

I guess it won't make much difference to me seeing the Astros in the American League, although ever since I was a child I've thought of the Astros as a National League team. Long before the days of interleague play, which will become more common when the Astros leap to join the Texas Rangers in the A.L. West, the 'Stros played the Giants, the Dodgers, the Cardinals, the Braves. Now they'll be playing the Red Sox, the White Sox, the Yankees, etc. 

Gee, my first major league game was seeing the Cardinals play the then .Colt 45s, when the Astrodome was a rising skeleton seen from our seats in the brutally hot, open air Colt stadium. There I was with my late father, my late grandfather and a neighbor, Richard. We had made the trip from Baton Rouge to Houston on U.S. 90 through Jim Bowie and Cat Doucet's Opelousas and Lake Charles and Orange; I-10 had not yet beeen completed. The young Bob Gibson was on the mound for the Cardinals, and the aging Stan Musial in the dugout, although Stan the Man did play in the second game of the twi-night double header. While the Cards had Lou Brock, Bill White, Dick Groat, etc., the 'Stros had the likes of Turk Farrell, Bob Aspromonte (LA Dodgers farm club product) and the 19-year-old Rusty Staub, fresh out of Jesuit High in New Orleans. 

Over the years, I spent many a sultry night on a front porch in Baton Rouge, listening to the 'Stros, slowly shifting over the years from iced tea to beer to bourbon, back to iced tea. The names: the Rooster, Doug Rader; the Flea, Bob Lillis;  the Toy Cannon, Jimmy Winn. The 'Stros. Trading away Rusty Staub because owner Judge Hofeinz got pissed when Staub refused to play on Vietnam Moratorium Day. Trading away Joe Morgan. Trading away Mike Cuellar. Cesar Cedeno. The killer Bs. Roy Oswalt. Nolan Ryan. Fat Elvis, Lance Berkman. (Speaking of Fat Elvis, I once saw him perform in the Astrodome, but that's another story). Yes, the 'Stros had some great years, before wrecking the franchise again.

Well, once again, as with the college conference realignments, tradition goes by the wayside in the interests of money. The 'Stros in the American League. Sure, I'll buy it. 

Dog Days Keep Barking

The PGA at Atlanta Athletic Club shows again how that once maligned, fourth-sister major, is gaining ground each year. The U.S. Open,with Congressional disgracefully weak this year, has been in freefall for at least a decade. First, the USGA folks killed the excitement with the unplayably hard courses, then swung too much the other way...The Tiger Woods-Rocco Mediate playoff in 2008 was the last memorable open.... Once the PGA had inferior courses, but now the Atlanta Athletics Club proved a much more challenging championship test than Congressional. ...The USGA held the open once at the AAC, then never again, while the PGA has held four championships there. What doesn't the USGA come back?

...Gee, hooked on the Braves again. The Giants-Braves series was a good one. Any lover of good pitching feels sympathy with Tim Lincecum, who has received no runs at all in 10 games this year. He must feel like a great football defense that keeps seeing its quarterback throw interceptions. ..Baseball, at least in the National League, has really shifted to a pitching-dominated game in which one or two runs is usually good enough to win. Baseball dinosaurs like me might like it, but pitching duels likely bore the videogame generation. No doubt baseball can be a tedious event; the other day I grew irritated when a pitcher kept looking around at a baserunner, etc. A football team would have run three plays and an NBA team scored three goals in the time it took him to at last throw a pitch.

..I'm beginning to warm up to Freddi Gonzales as manager, but I still find his batting order screwy. I like Brian McCann, and he's a good hitter, but I don't see him as No. 3. And, while Constanza's been a spark, I'd like to see Heyward playing everyday, no matter how badly he's been going.

...The GOP is screaming about Obama vacationing in Martha's Vineyard. He would be much closer to the people if only he had his own ranch in Texas. ...Government can't create jobs, the conservatives say. The old Tammany Hall Tweed gang, as well as Southern populists like Huey Long, did pretty well in crearing jobs. 

August, the Dog Days, or is that old man wolf howling at the door?

Another long assumed certainty crumbles: the U.S. no longer has a AAA credit rating. Chatterers on CNN say don't worry, it really means nothing. The Wizard of Oz scenario once more; pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

Nothing better to do while waiting for the Apocalypse and or the start of college football season than to deeply engage with the Braves. Now they are playing at the Mets' Citi field. Although the Mets are severely diminished, another victim of the financial crash except for the splendid Reyes, the Braves playing there always seems more like real baseball than when they're playing against a team like the Arizona Diamondbacks, which could disappear tomorrow and I wouldn't care. New York among other things means baseball to me. 

Of course, watching the Braves on TV pushes my tolerance for the cornball announcer Chip Caray, who shows little of the talent for low-rent humor of his dad, Skip, or his grandad, Harry. Recently, I escaped Chip by listening to the Braves on the radio with Don Sutton and whoever his partner is. Sutton and pal give more insightful analysis and a more pointed, adult humor. But, I like to watch on TV. Perhaps I'll turn down the sound and listen to the radio.

Last night, the Braves at last bested the Mets behind Dan Uggla's amazing revival. The Braves broke through when the Mets removed their young knuckleballer R.A. Dickey, one of the traditionalists who wears his uniform trousers above his stockings. Watching Dickey's knuckleballs, I wanted the pitch to be banned, like the spitball. Although I loved Phil Niekro, and even Hoyt Wilhelm, the knuckleball seems bogus, based on trickery more than skill. Dickey appears to be an OK guy, a bit nervous, but I say throw the slider, the fastball, the curve or get out of the game. Ban the knuckleball!

Even my TV viewing's lost, after the end of "Treme." I watched the three episodes of a strange little show on PBS, "Zen," which starred Rufus Sewell as a detective in Rome. I liked the depiction of the ancient, corrupt Italian city, and a luscious Italian actress who after making it as a Bond girl to Daniel Craig now does three-episode Masterpiece series shows. I'm unable to get back to "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Entourage," both of which I've already buried. 

So, after long days of eyeball-searing work, I ruin the old orbs even further with reading. Faulkner's "The Hamlet," a long tome on World War I, books on Huey Long, Jonathan Yardley, the New Yorker, Commonweal, the Kenyon Review, the New York Review of Books, The New York Times. At times, I'll sit down and play the piano, lately I've been practicing on "Rally Round the Flag Boys."

 

Tim Lincecum as "The Kid"

I had a flash about the Giants' Tim Lincecum; one of his gestures reminded me of that famous picture of William S. Bonney, Billy the Kid. Linceum's adolescent appearance, long hair and killer's ability definitely are in the spirit of "The Kid." 

The vaunted pitcher's duel between Linceum and the Rangers' Cliff Lee turns into a game of offensive power. After tightly pitched playoffs games so far, perhaps the Series will turn into a showcase for hitting. 

A Promising World Series

The Giants vs. Rangers promises to be a good World Series. Cliff Lee vs. Tim Lincecum will continue the fall's great pitching matchups. The Rangers look to have a bit more hitting power through the lineup, but the Giants are a scrappy group. 

Hail to the Rangers

During my youth and early adulthood, I was a strong Yankees fan, but at some point I turned into a Yankees hater. Old man Steinbrenner grew distasteful, they kept getting who they wanted. The last straw was the demise of old Yankee Stadium. So, I'm glad that the Rangers are going to the World Series.

Memo to Joe Girardi: It's not a good idea to walk Josh Hamilton and face Vlad Guerrero. Hamilton's a great hitter, and Vlad's not the hitter he once was, but he's proven all year that he's still devastating in the clutch. It was fascinating to watch Girardi repeat the mistake. Now the plot of "Damn Yankees" has come true, if you recall that the Rangers were once the Washington Senators, at least the Senators' second incarnation. 

Now if the Giants can beat the Phils, I'll be happy. If so, I'll root for the Giants over the Rangers. In my childhood, I was a Giants fan as well, loving those great teams with Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Orlando Cepeda, Juan Marichal and Tom Haller. 

Fascinating too to see the Giants and the Rangers receive delirious fan support. Even in their great days, the Giants were a tough sell in San Francisco, and Dallas has always cared more about the Cowboys. Now baseball is hot in both those towns.