The 2020 year is apparently the year of “the unexpected”. At least that’s what it seems like up until this point. As we are all well aware, COVID is the culprit in this widespread disruption to all phases of life with many wishing to return to “normalcy”. I’m sure the virus’s influence will not disappear when it comes to baseball as the pandemic continues to spread here in the United States. Yet, we have been blessed with good news this week; MLB and specifically Rob Manfred announced that baseball would resume on July 23rd.
2007 American League Championship Series Game 6. Red Sox are down three games to two in the series to the Cleveland Indians. I’m talking shit about J.D. Drew the whole way down route 93 from Colebrook, N.H. to Boston, Mass. He hadn’t been hitting well and I think I have the answer. “Move Ellsbury over and put CoCo in; J.D.’s done- he’s a bum. Schilling’s on the mound and he’s a ground ball pitcher. We’ll be ok. We don’t need Drew’s glove in the outfield tonight.”
Thwack… Crack, these are the glorious sounds of leather on leather and leather on ash wood. If you listen carefully, you can hear the music of hot dogs grilling, and popcorn popping at concourse concession stands. Impatient children pestering their parents to know how much longer there is left in the game. Then, spotting the poor sweaty teenager dressed up in a mascot costume just trying to earn a few bucks as a milestone to future independence. It’s that time of year when I should be experiencing these sensations, but they have been put temporally on hold this summer, I keep hoping that it all will return to me soon.
The summer of 1998 went from something none of us baseball fans would ever forget, to one that we have all collectively tried to wash away from history. The cloud of steroids and the ugliness of lies and deceit that accompanied hearings in Washington D.C and public battles in the sports media are memories we’d all like to leave behind as much as the summer of '98 itself. It is the memories of bitter arguments among baseball historians and everyday fans that clouds what was once the most magical moment in the history of the sport, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa’s pursuit of Roger Maris’s single season home run record.
Faye Katherine Dancer was born April 24th, 1925 in Santa Monica, California Lloyd Augustus Dancer and Olive Victoria Pope. Faye attended Santa Monica High School, Dancer played softball for the Dr. Peppers and would later attend University High School in West Los Angeles.
I was born on Bronxdale Avenue and have very vague memories of the Bronx. You see, I was ripped away at five years old and clearly remember the excitement of being in the basement of our own house in Somers, NY. Little did I know, my euphoria was misplaced.
At one point in their kids’ childhood, it’s time for parents to help them choose a hobby.
Larry Bauman, Muscoot, Somerfields, and Somers Pub - we’ve been at this for twenty plus years. A lot of exciting moments, a few championships and a number of t-shirts mark our existence. But more importantly, there’s an excess of emblematic moments that define us and here’s a list of the best.
Harvey Friedman has umpired in the Mens Softball League since 1993. Finally hanging up his clicker, there’s been a lot of calls, and good standing usually depends on one factor. Who won and who lost. But there probably is one thing that can be agreed upon in regards to this affable man in blue. There are more stories told about Harvey than anyone involved in the league, and there’s no better framework to describe him.
With the Washington Nationals making the World Series for the first time in 2019, there is only one team left in the major leagues that has not made it to the World Series. Can You name that team?