Tag Archives: baseball

guess we’re all in trouble, huh?

Guys, this is totally my jam:

It’s a challenge for me to not associate Phantom Planet with The O.C., which probably says something about my musical knowledge/taste, but I lurve this song. I’m going to totally dance around my bedroom to it all summer long.

Speaking of dancing, last night Kathleen and assorted other friends of ours went to the Red Sox/Nationals game, and at the end of the game Miss Potter, my roommate, hooked us up with access to a suite. Excitement about moving from the nosebleeds to a suite (Suite 1, no less), prompted some celebratory awkward dancing. (To replicate, be gangly, then wave limbs around wildly.) See, Kathleen’s Connecticut-loving boyfriend — let’s call him Miguel — and I are both wonderfully awkward dancers. I say wonderfully because when you’re an awkward dancer, you just have to embrace and love the awkwardness, or it just gets worse. Kathleen (poor thing) was blessed with actual coordination, so Miguel and I made a pact that if we ever find an Awkward Dance Contest for Couples, we will totally enter. And totally win. Our confidence is so enormous that Miguel makes this bold claim: “I could enter an Awkward Dance Contest for Couples and win, alone.” Bring it on.

In related news, remember the time Kathleen and I reviewed the 2008 All-Star game? (Here, read it again!) J.D. Drew was at bat at some point last night, and Kathleen was all, “Hey Mal, remember the time we wrote about the All-Star game and we like loved J.D.?” And I was all, “[Awkward laugh] Yeah…I mean, actually, no, I don’t remember that at all.” Kathleen proceeded to make fun of me and said that we both had huge crushes on J.D. Drew and we were both a little ashamed (and mocked by Miguel), because J.D. Drew looks like this:

Which isn’t to say Mr. Drew is unattractive, but I mean, he is a bearded ginger, and I think I would have remembered having a huge crush on a bearded ginger. Turns out, this was the boy we were talking about in said All-Star post:

This means, of course, that Kathleen was wrong! Huzzah! I may have the long-term memory of a housefly, but I’ll take the little victories where I can find them.

[Posted by Mallory]

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arthur giddon at bat (boy) again.


arthur gibbons

This NYT story will make your day (and, obviously, it made me cry):

“Hi ya, young fella.”

Babe Ruth greeted Arthur Giddon as he did most 13-year-olds, even those in uniform. Giddon chatted with the Babe for a moment but tore himself away because he had a job to do. It was 1922, and as a Boston Braves bat boy, Giddon had to break out the bats, polish some spikes and otherwise outfit his players for that afternoon’s game at Braves Field.

Eighty-seven years later, on Saturday, Giddon will reprise his role for his now-beloved Red Sox — as a special 100th birthday present, he will serve as the team’s honorary bat boy prior to the game against the rival Yankees

Happy Friday!

[Posted by Mallory]

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the baseball game that took for-ev-eeer.

Wow, what an All-Star game! Since Kathleen and I are practically professional MLB commentators, we have a lot of insight on the game. Because we like you, we’ll let you see some of the wisdom we passed back and forth while we watched:

Kathleen: this allstar game is absurd
Mallory: im glad youre watching! its nuts!
Kathleen: seriously!
Mallory: that uggla guy is a huge fuckup
Kathleen: haha never in a million years would i have pegged myself as the kind of girl to watch a baseball game all by herself at 1 a.m., but here i am

And then Kathleen blew me away with this one:

Kathleen: i love jd drew right now

Then we got extremely sophisticated in our analysis. If you don’t know a TON about baseball, you may not be able to follow this:

Kathleen: francona was really cute…did you see him freak out?
Mallory: yes that was adorable! i love baseball!
Kathleen: i feel so american
Me: im not even sad…theyre all so cute!
i like that shaggy one on the rangers
something like that
hes cute

And just so you know, Kinsler IS cute. Which is probably the adjective he strives for. See:

Soooo anyway, in case you live on the east coast and maybe have a job that prevents you from staying up until 1:45 a.m. watching baseball, I’ll fill you in. After a grueling 15 innings and almost five hours, the American League won this year’s All-Star game, 4-3. It was so intense that Kathleen and I both stayed up and watched until the end! That’s impressive! Besides Dan Uggla committing like 300 errors, everyone played really well, and I don’t actually know what I’m talking about so I’ll stop here. Good job everyone! Go America! Goodnight!

[Posted by Mallory]

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confession: i’ve never been to fenway.

Mallory and I are usually on the same side with everything, but alas, I have found a difference between us: she supports the New York Yankees. Being that this blog is 50% mine, I will keep things balanced (but not “fair and balanced” because Fox News and their deceptive slogan makes me sick to my journalistic integrity-loving stomach) and talk about the Boston Red Sox. (Haha I love you, Mal!)

Those who know me know that I’m far more likely to know political scores than baseball scores, but come on, I do live in New England. And my journey to being a Red Sox fan is not a long one, but before you judge me and call me a fair-weather fan, hear me out. I grew up with Cal Ripken, the Orioles and Camden Yards. But upon moving to New Hampshire from Maryland my sophomore year of high school (I had one girl say to me, “New Hampshire? Isn’t that, like, up north somewhere?” Yes hun, it is.), I quickly realized that loving the Red Sox was not just a passion some people have; it is a way of life.

It didn’t come easily, but after awhile, I began to slowly develop affection for the Sox much like Belle for Beast in the Disney classic, “Beauty and the Beast”. Sorry, I had to throw that in. I spent hours watching the games with friends, a pastime I would never have done as an O’s fan. So I started off slow, just watching the games and learning the personalities of the players. Now, I have lived in NH for six years-and because of this I consider myself to be on the same level as a six-year-old child when it comes to my love for the Red Sox. My dad bought me my first Red Sox hat last year! Hooray!

But Mal and I have one thing in common despite our different sides in one of the deepest and longest of rivalries: I have never been to a game at Fenway Park, just as she’s never been to a game at Yankee Stadium. It’s humiliating, but true. I yearn for the day when I can join pretty much every other New Englander and say that I went to Fenway and saw the World Series champions.

So, if anyone wants to help me on my journey, give me a call. Take me out to the ball game. I love hot dogs. And beers.

[Posted by Kathleen]

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tribute: to uncle kevin, yankee stadium.

Though I generally just support all Denver sports, I would consider myself to be a Yankee fan. It’s in my genes. My dad has always been a big Yankee fan (I’m actually not sure why, considering he was born and raised in Denver), and my mom’s whole side of the family is from New York. In fact, my mom and her four brothers grew up in the Bronx, not too far from Yankee Stadium. My mom’s youngest brother, my Uncle Kevin, is a die hard Yankee fan, and he truly appreciates the rare times he actually gets to go to a game in person.

My sister and I went to visit my Uncle Kevin about ten years ago, and he was determined that we experience a game at Yankee Stadium. I remember getting there, buying some souvenirs, and being introduced to what my uncle said was a quintessential New York baseball food: a soft pretzel with mustard on the side. (I still love pretzels dipped in mustard.) Then, to our disappointment — but much more so to my uncle’s — the game was rained out, and we didn’t get to see a single pitch.

Now that this is the last year the Yanks will play at their beloved old stadium, I’ll probably never get to see a game there. Still, I’m glad that I got pretty darn close, with someone whose passion for the game did the experience justice.

[Posted by Mallory]

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Filed under family, RIP, sports

solo cab rides are pretty lonely.


So last night I went out with two of my friends from elementary school (look at the longevity there). We went to a Rockies game, which is always a good time, and then stopped by a bar to see another friend’s band play. Various events in the night got me slightly freaked out about this whole being-an-adult thing (that is, if you consider living at home, temping as a receptionist, and still making bad decisions with alarming frequency being an adult). For starters, at the baseball game we sat in front of these obnoxious kids (including boys who were wearing strangely short shorts) who felt the need to comment on every aspect of the game, and loudly say things like “Should we take the shooters now?” I was blissfully happy eating my burrito, drinking my Coors Light, and staring at the mountains, so I was more entertained than annoyed by these strangers, but from an objective perspective, I could see that they were irritating as hell. My friends and I joked about this and laughed at the antics of these young hooligans, and then I realized…that was me. And I’m not talking that was me like waaay back in college a month ago, but that was me approximately a week ago, at a different Rockies game. People like that aren’t exactly loved by the rest of the population. How long can I get away with shit like this?

After it was clear that the Rockies were going to win (take THAT, Cleveland), we went to the bar to watch my friend’s band play. The band turned out to be awesome, and it was generally a great time. One of the highlights of this little concert was watching the hammered parents of the band members acting like college students, which means they were dancing on tables and making out in corners. This seems to answer the earlier question with a resounding “You can get away with shit like this for a long time! You can get blacked out on a Tuesday and grind up on strangers even when you have children of your own!” And even though I assume, if I’m being honest with myself, that I probably will be one of those parents one day, it still doesn’t seem quite right.

So after watching these drunk adults for a few hours, my elementary school friends left and I decided against my better judgement to stay for a while. After dancing like a hippie to the next band, whose lead singer had one of the greatest Jewfros I’ve ever seen, I started thinking I should go home, and I called a cab. Because my other friends didn’t have important things like filing invoices and answering phones to do the next day, they decided to stay. Which means I had to take a cab home alone. Now, I’m not the type of person who necessarily hates being alone, but I felt self-conscious and pathetic hopping into that yellow sedan all by my lonesome. I knowww that adults do that sometimes — I’ve seen it in the movies — but I didn’t like it.

As much I want to end this bit of rambling with a Carrie Bradshaw-esque conclusion that ties this all together with a neat analogy and an “I couldn’t help but wonder,” (i.e., “And I couldn’t help but wonder…was my fear of being alone in the cab indicative of a larger fear of being alone…forever?), I really don’t know where I’m going with this. I think part of me is still devastated that a night out is no longer a trip to a campus bar where everybody knows your name, you can pay for beer on your meal plan, and you can walk home in five minutes. I’m also not entirely sure what I can do with this borderline-alcoholism that we all pick up in college now that I’m (GASP) not in college. On the weekends, when my drink of choice is still a whiskey coke in shady water bottle form, it’s easier to pretend that nothing’s changed. But this whole “work” thing, this whole “growing up” thing, is really cramping my style. Thank god for grad school.

[Posted by Mallory]

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Filed under definitely not politics, post-college depression