October Prognostication

As we sit in the brief 15 hour window between the game that finished deciding the playoffs and the game that begins them, it's time to make some predictions and let the world shoot holes in my reasoning. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep this daily throughout the playoffs as I did a few years back. Of course, I didn't have a job then, which made it much easier...

Here goes!

Rockies v. Phillies -- Phillies in 5.

The Rockies have had an unbelievable second half of the season...again. I think that magic and the strength of their home-field advantage when in the mountains buys them two wins. Eventually, though, the Phillies superior pitching will prevail. Unlike in 2007, Cole Hamels actually has some playoff mileage now and it will show. Cliff Lee will be fine. Maybe if the Rockies had de la Rosa I would follow my heart instead of my head. The only doubt that lingers is that Brad Lidge seems to now remember who he is. Bad closing doesn't fare well in October.

Twins v. Yankees -- Yankees in 5.

In the name of full disclosure, you can read all about my allegiance to the Twins this postseason in yesterday's entry. When I look at this series I reflect on a few things: the advantages of the Metrodome, the Twins' 17-4 record over their last 21 games, the ability of recent Yankees teams to lay an egg in the playoffs (and especially the divisional round). Then it's all eclipsed by the planet known as CC. The Twins are not going to beat Sabathia tonight (which, I assume, is one of the reasons they're basically throwing out a sacrificial lamb to pitch...it's like tying up a goat and waiting for Tyranosaurus CC to come out of nowhere). The Twins are not going to beat Sabathia in a game 5 in Yankee stadium, either.

All of this makes game 2 the most important game of this series. Nick Blackburn stood toe-to-toe with Zack Greinke on Saturday and out-pitched him. The Twins have a chance to win this game. If they do, game 3 can be won on energy alone. Which means the Yankees will bring back CC for game four. Against Scott Baker. This is the one chance the Twins have...and it's not a good one. If the Twins lose game 2, all the Homerun Hankies in the world aren't going to take 3 in a roll from a superior rotation.

I can still believe, though.

Cardinals v. Dodgers -- Cardinals in 4.

A lot of people have been getting on the Dodgers for dragging it through the final month. Haven't we seen this before, though? Isn't this what Joe Torre teams do? Sandbag September then come alive in October? I don't believe the Dodgers are completely dead. I do believe, however, that your rotation most often wins a short series, and the comparison between starters here is not even close. The Cardinals have the best two pitchers in this series (Carpenter and Wainwright) going in the first two games in LA. The Dodgers better light it up big and light it up quick. But I doubt it will happen. The Dodgers' arms are younger overall. And the offense hasn't sparked in the magnitude they need lately. The Cardinals will finish this off in St. Louis...I give it four games only because something quirky usually happens in these series.

Red Sox v. Angels -- Angels in 5

I've preached about pitching a lot in this blog. But which is more important, this season or past playoff performances? I give the nod to recent history here. Also, when pitching is close, I give the nod to the more consistent offense. Something just isn't quite right with these Sox...

Some would say the Angels need to win game one to vanquish their demons of postseasons past. I think Lester might even be able to take this game..but the Angels will still win the series. I'm not sold on Beckett anymore, or on Buchholz. I think Scott Kazmir is still one of the best-kept secrets in baseball. And, again, the Sox this year just lack...something.

Maybe it's innocence lost with the Big Papi steroid talk...I don't know. The magic seems gone.

I'll make predictions round-by-round, of course. But for the record, here's a brief prediction for the rest of the playoffs:

ALCS: Angels over Yankees in 7

NLCS: Cardinals over Phillies in 5

WS: Angels over Cardinals in 7

Fire away!

Dome Sweet Dome

I've found myself increasingly interested in the MLB pennant races over the past week. Admittedly, this happens to me in most years, as the Reds become mathematically eliminated and underdogs cross the line from "Wouldn't that be nice?" to "Holy Hell! This might just happen!" This past week however, has struck me with an unusual intensity. I didn't realize it initially, but had to stop and think on it, when I found myself yelling at the TV at a baseball game on Saturday.

Generally, there are four reasons this might happen:

A) I'm watching the Reds in a game that actually counts

B) I'm rooting for someone to complete one of those magical baseball moments, like a no-hitter or perfect game.

C) I'm rooting against a hated team to make the playoffs (i.e. Red Sox, Yankees, Cardinals)

or

D) The success of my fantasy team is on the line.

Saturday's game in question was between the Twins and the Royals. Neither team remotely falls in my "hated" zone, so that takes out reason C. The game didn't involve the Reds and, besides which, neither the Reds nor my fantasy team have been alive for some time. Thus go reasons A and D. And, other than being a fabulous pitcher's duel for 6 innings, no baseball feats were threatened in this game. If we take out reason B, then why was I yelling at this game? What came over me? It took me a while, but I figured it out: The Hefty Dome.

The Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome (opened in 1982) is a dinosaur by current ballpark standards. Instead of inviting natural grass, the field is made up of turf, with cut-outs for the base areas and the pitcher's mound. The outfield seats are mostly high above the wall, making room for pushed back bleachers that can be pulled out for football games. The classic MLB on TV camera angle from behind the pitcher shows only wall and exhaust fans. Balls bounce high off the floor, players don't kick up tufts of turf, and luxury boxes look like out-of-place eyesores. Charm is non-existent...unless you grew up a baseball fan in the 80's.

The Metrodome is everything baseball was in the 1980's. A inorganic, decidedly non-intimate crater of a park that lent itself towards speed and pitching (look at those foul areas!) instead of homers and "fan experience." And the Metrodome was one of the most legendary of these parks! Plastic that looks like garbage bags stretched over the right field bleachers: check! The Teflon dome responsible for hundreds or thousands of lost balls: check! The in-play speakers: check! And (cue the national anthem playing quietly in the background) GENERAL ADMISSION SEATING!!!! Say it with me: GENERAL ADMISSION SEATING!!!!

Can any one place remind me so much of both my days as a boy watching baseball on TV and going to Old Cardinal Stadium to watch the Redbirds play live? Let's face it, children of the 80's, these outdated, ugly, multi-purpose parks are the foundation of our baseball heritage. They're you're first car: not pretty, not completely functional, but a hell of a lot of fun. I have nothing but good memories of these parks. (Including sitting almost top-row in swirling winds in an early May game at the Vet. It wasn't cozy, but it was an experience).

It's funny. for all of the hubbub over how crappy the Metrodome was, I attended two ballgames there, and had a great experience both times. Say what you want about how close the fans sit now, and how great the experience is, the fans make the experience. And Twins fans make it more than most. For instance, do you realize that the Twins are undefeated at the dome in the World Series? A perfect 8-0. No team has a better home-field advantage than the Twins right now (not even you, Fenway, or you Wrigley. When everyone, and I mean everyone starts showing up for just the baseball, we'll talk). When the dome is packed, no one can beat it.

I think of my own fan-dom, and I wonder. Am I better off in Great American Ballpark than I was in the yellow deck of Riverfront Stadium? Sometimes I wonder. I love the standing room vistas of the new park, and many of the amenities, and the aesthetics...but is it all that much better? Is it better?

In the end, though, the better question is "does it matter?" Progress is progress and people who go to the park on a regular basis do not need to be confronted with the end-warehouse scene from every 80's action movie on the way to their seats. The deserve comfort. But I deserve my memories. At least, for one more damned October, I deserve my memories.

I call upon you, fellow baseball fans of my generation. If your team is out of the playoffs, band together in support of the Minnesota Twins. Band together in support of our baseball heritage. As artificial turf goes the way of the dinosaur (except in Tampa, though the Rays didn't exist in the 80's) and Toronto, where Skydome started the trend toward stadium decadence). I want to hear the shear volume as, one more time, Minnesota fans blow the roof off of the Hefty Dome and, as I turn 30, watch major-league baseball finally completely distance itself from the baseball I knew in my youth.

I'm not bitter about it, mind you. I love several of the new stadiums, and look forward to taking my own children to grow up watching baseball in these places (and watching many more games on TV at these places). I simply relish one last look at turf manipulated to look like a lawn-mower cut it, choppers that take off like super-balls, and exhaust fans...oh, those suspiciously large Metrodome exhaust fans. Oh, and the innocent youthful exuberance that baseball has never lost for me...just sometimes misplaced.

Long live the Dome! WHO'S WITH ME??!!!!!!!!!!!

A poem before the summer ends

Yeah, I know...the summer doesn't "officially" end for another month and a half or so. As a teacher, though, it pretty much ends tonight. Which means that this poem has reached its maximum ripining point. And, thus, I present it to you.


A kiss
Like a magnet
Lifts you to your toes,
Draws eyes closed,
Submerges you sweetly
In the surf of a distant dream.

A kiss
Like a second thought
Offers your longing
A linger or two,
Offers reflection
In the reflection of a pool of first feelings.

Summer's balmy breath
Moves from the cheek
Over lips
To the whole of the mouth.

A kiss
Like a whisper
Draws you in,
Draws you under
The spell of a siren song
Awash in a riptide of passion.

There is no shame in surrender
To the sudden clarity
Of a smiling heart
Before summer's rays
Dance, disappear
Ever farther above your head.

Poetry on a Monday

Been holding this one for a couple of weeks...the mindset is right, though.



I’ve never tasted a caramel
In the midmorning sun,
Whose cool embers
Give way to waves of warm butter
Poured over lips,
Adorn milky velvet,
Savored,
Indulged,
Melts into a rich mirth of nectar.

Sating flavors linger heavy on the tongue,
Promise more than the day can hold.

Poetry in the raw.

That's right...two Wednesdays in a row! Let's hear it for lit night! Let's try a bit of applied haiku tonight. This one is written today, published tonight. How's that for efficiency?




Slow burn. With a taste,
Beaujolais glares trickle from
Dark fermentation

In thirsty vineyards,
Carefully hidden, tended
To lush excesses.

Your riddle entwined,
Veiled in the blithe tannins of
A transient smile

Awash amongst the
Steep nose, frail legs of the glass
Of Dionysus.

POETRY!!!

So...blogger still won't let me format properly. Fuck them...here is my latet poem (in leiu of my larger poetry project) without the proper formatting (imagine each lower case line indented 5 spaces).

(Note: I wrote this last night while half inebriated and mostly asleep. I polished it up today)

A flash,
A fount
of inspiration,
of feline paradox,

Where a question
is an invitation
And a front of naïveté
a snare of better thinking.

Where youth is a hindrance
and a necessary medium
For tiptoe graces,
For telling faces
and a question
and answer,
unbelieving.
Sonata.

Where I masquerade,
and proceed to cavort
With probability,
With mirth
and retreat to the sideline.

A vision,
A dream of entropy

Where words hang heavy,
bored
And a question
is an invitation to our dance
Of glee
I lead
In three
we waltz

And curiosity
Springs me from the limbo
Of a higher purpose
in a flash.

Dreams and the Like

The morning that began "Winter Storm 2009" I fixed breakfast alongside Tammy and listened for the first time to Bruce Springsteen's Working on a Dream album. I had read through the lyrics sheet when I had arrived home the night before, an uncharactaristic move for me prior to listening. However, I had stayed up until midnight (quite an experience for me these days) to purchase the album and drive home in one hell of a sleet storm to assure I would have it during what I predicted to be multiple days of being homebound. I've been meaning to write about the album ever since.

Many longtime Springsteen fans have had a reaction that can be best described as tepid to the new album. I think I've finally figured out the reason. Bruce, probably more so than any other artist recording today has mastered tying an album around a concept. Up until Working on a Dream, fans had been spoiled with album-long novellas chornicling the need for liberation, the burden of liberation, the Reagan 80's (twice!), he breakdown of false love, the solidarity of true love (or as true as it gets), the plight of the downtrodden in an increasingly affluent nation, 9-11, and The Bush Administration, to name most of the concepts. Springsteen fans seem as likely to be literature fans as music fans. And that's where Bruce throws something of a curveball.

Working on a Dream is still based around a concept, but it's much more of an aural concept than a lyrical one. Hell, Good Eye has three whole verses (and calling them verses is pushing it). But the song is a rollicking good time. WoaD communicates much of the same positive vibe as Lucky Town. But Bruce does so by playing with a happy sound, instead of just happy lyrics. A certain loose playfulness is reflected throughout the disc. Admittedly, the lyrics are some of his simplest, but that's part of the point. (Ironically, many of the Springsteen mega-fans hype up "The Wrestler" as God's gift to songwriting, but the lyrics are no more striking than many of the other songs). A quick blow-by-blow:

Outlaw Pete: Admittedly, I still don't get this one yet. It's been very hard for me to chomp off 8 minutes of attention to dedicate the listening that it needs.

My Lucky Day: A pretty basic fast-paced Bruce single. Solid, but nothing outstanding.

Working on a Dream: A much more bold statement than the preceding song. That's probably the reason why the album is named for it and not the former. I can actually feel myself looking forward to this song. The album as an analogy for life. The point is in the Working, not the final product. Perhaps I'm reading too much in, but I think Bruce wanted to communicate a less polished feel to this album. Less slick, not as coherent. All we can really do is work on the dream. Will we ever achieve it? The working is the achievement.

Queen of the Supermarket: I could write a blog on this song alone (and have considered it). Possibly the high point of entire album, a simple story of love from a distance. But for those of us that have experienced this, the best presentation of it I've seen. The song is quinessentially Bruce (lyrical longing, regret, appreciation), just set in the mundane suburbanite setting. Even the f-bomb at the end is not only appropriate but necessary. A matter-of-fact delivery is elevated by the power of the word to match the music in the background. A wow moment. And I could go on...

What Love Can Do: Pretty basic Bruce stuff again. I might be more appreciative of this song if it didn't follow Queen of the Supermarket. However, in it's current spot, it just seems like a digression. It does serve as a fast-paced bridge to the next track, though

This Life: This track channels Roy Orbison unlike anything I've ever heard in Bruce's catalog. Needless to say, I love it.

Good Eye: The rollicking blues number mentioned above. Probably the best evidence of the underlying point of the album.

Tomorrow Never Knows: Warm and fuzzy Bruce? So you have it. The use of trumpet in the background is especailly nice. Nostalgic, airy, a bit light in the lyric. But a great contrast to the previous track

Life Itself: By far the best of the "Bruce" songs on the album (in other words, those that would fit in on almost any of his albums). He knocks this on out of the park.

Kingdom of Days: A valentine of a song. Bruce at the happiest I've heard him...ever. But not sappy. Just gleeful. The lyric says a bit. the music says more. His voice, however, says volumes about the level of contentment he's found in life.

Surprise, Surprise: Gleeful to the point of being silly. But an appropriate follow-up to the track before (and certainly a great anti-setup to The Last Carnival). I hear a lot of early Beetles influence in this one.

The Last Carnival: The tribute to Danny is poignant and appropriately literary. the fact that it's a de facto tribute to Wild Billy's Circus Story is off-the-wall brilliant. The ending bugged me a little at first, but I've since come to reconcicle with it. One of the disc's best.

The Wrestler: The writing is a bit basic, but the performance is the low-key, desperate, and fading setting the song screams for.

In short, Bruce has finally recorded a disc that's for popping open a bottle of wine, cranking up the stereo and taking an emotional adventure with the brain OFF. No need for the head in this one. The music points the way. Let the mind sink into the heart and lose yourself in it.

Of course, that's against everything Bruce stands for, right? He's the thinking, songwriting Dylan-in-waiting, right?

Meet Bruce the musicianm Bruce the composer, Bruce the charmer.