My five-year-old daughter decided early in the season that Jason Kendall was her favorite player. I’m not quite sure why, but she kept telling everyone who would listen that Kendall is “fast for a catcher.” That piece of trivia really fascinated her, for some reason.

She didn’t get her cues about her favorite player from me. Kendall has probably been my least favorite A’s player this year. All those weak grounders to third and one-hop throws to second have really grated on me. Early in the season, I blurted out in my daughter’s presence that Kendall was a “double play machine”, and I still feel bad about it.

* * *

MLB.com authentic customized Jason Kendall jersey made of comfortable and resilient polyester: $189.99.

Home-made Jason Kendall jersey, made with a roll of paper, some tape, and a pen: priceless.

* * *

How many things in life are better than helping your kid become a baseball fan?

Very few, so I better not blow it. It’s not right for a kid to have a favorite player, to decide on her own to replicate a jersey, and then later find out that her dad thinks that player sucks. I need to learn to love Jason Kendall.

I’ve been trying to appreciate what Kendall can do well–get on base, call a game, and make good decisions–and accept his weak arm and powerless swing. But it isn’t easy to turn a reasonable argument into an emotional reality.

That’s where a play like today’s game winning run helps. Kendall’s been in the center of the two most memorable plays of this magical season, the tag of Soriano at home in Texas, and today’s mad dash home off Francisco Rodriguez. They were both unlikely, game winning plays where Kendall’s instinctive, quick-thinking and aggressive style won a game for the A’s.

That’s something I can appreciate. Hey, maybe that kid’s OK.

“That’s one for the books! Holy Toledo!”

That’s one for the blogs, too. Wow. More soon…

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

The house was almost full. Over 40,000 people showed up on a Tuesday night for the battle for first place between the A’s and Angels.

The crowd was buzzing. Up in the stands, everyone seemed excited. The game started. The first pitch:

And that was the end of the good news. All the bad breaks, crazy bounces, and unfortunate mistakes that the A’s had been avoiding for two months suddenly showed up all at once in the first two innings. The A’s had double-play balls in each inning that resulted in no outs. There was a strikeout that didn’t get an out. Rich Harden’s a very good pitcher, but it’s hard for even the best pitchers to hold down the opposition when he has to get 11 outs to get through two innings.

It left me shaking my head. It felt just like one of those playoff losses where the A’s lost, not because the other team beat them, but because of the most bizarre, uncharacteristic plays you could imagine.

Looking down on the field quickly went from exciting to depressing. I decided to look up instead. The sky was much more interesting than the game.

There was a small moon over the Arena:

And a colorful sunset over the parking lot.

Good night. See you tomorrow.

There’s a scene in Twelfth Night, where the siblings Sebastian and Viola, who had feared each other dead, finally discover the other is alive.

Yet, they don’t immediately start celebrating. (“Viola, you’re alive!” “Sebastian! Thank God!”) Instead, (partly because Viola is dressed like a man) they proceed as if it is impossible to believe such good news without first providing each other with overwhelming proof:

SEBASTIAN: …Were you a woman, as the rest goes even,
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek,
And say ‘Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!’

VIOLA: My father had a mole upon his brow.

SEBASTIAN: And so had mine.

VIOLA: And died that day when Viola from her birth
Had number’d thirteen years.

SEBASTIAN: O, that record is lively in my soul!
He finished indeed his mortal act
That day that made my sister thirteen years.

VIOLA: If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp’d attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola; …

That’s what this upcoming three game series with the Angels is like.

The A’s have miraculously survived a shipwreck of a May to come back and reach a first-place tie with the Angels. It’s miraculous–could there be a happy ending in store for us?

But there’s that one little thing that holds us back, that makes us gather more and more evidence before we can believe it: we’ve been here before. We’ve seen more tragedies than comedies. We’ve seen the A’s have miraculous streaks; have big leads; make big comebacks; take the lead in playoff series…only to have our dreams crushed at the end in excruciating fashion by cruel fate.

Tonight, there’s a most wonderful buzz in the air. The excitement is building around us and within us. Our greatest hopes are right there, in front of our very eyes, but it isn’t quite enough to fully let loose. We need to know just a little bit more, just one more piece of evidence before we can truly accept that this is for real.

So as I head out tonight to the Coliseum, that’s what I’m seeking: the right combination of events, that extra line in the play, the perfect circumstance of place, time and fortune to demonstrate that A’s are indeed a championship-quality team.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

Tonight, I somehow managed to surf my way to Orson Welles’ famous Frozen Peas rant, where he complains about the copy he’s supposed to read for an advertisement.

Listening to the mp3, there was something about the rant that really reminded me of Bill King.

It wasn’t really Welles’ voice; that sounds more like Jon Miller than Bill King. It was something else, and I’m trying to put my finger on it.

In particular, when Welles said:

“You’re such pests!”

I almost felt Welles and King merging into one.

Perhaps it’s in the pronunciation, the dialect. I immediately noticed the way Welles fully enunciated the “ch” and “s-t-s” in “such pests”. The intonation of that phrase also struck me as similar to King’s.

Or perhaps it was simply the unusual mix of emotions you get when a well-educated master of the English language refuses to suffer fools gladly. A well-phrased, well-delivered and well-deserved insult is quite satisfying to listen to, but there’s also a underlying sense of intimidation: not one where you fear for your physical safety, but one where you fear for your self-esteem. If a man of that stature decides you’re a fool and lets you know about it, you’d probably want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

And on that note, I better stop right here. If King doesn’t like the comparison, he may channel Welles and put me down:

That’s just idiotic, if you forgive me for saying so. That’s just stupid.

and that would be the end of me.

Adam Melhuse could not hold out any longer. Today, he hit the first home run by an A’s catcher this year. And he just barely missed a second one–in his second at-bat, he hit one off the top of the center field wall for an RBI double. That leaves Jason Kendall as the undisputed Master of His Domain.

At this moment, the A’s are blowing out the Royals for the second straight day, 8-0 in the 4th, heading for a series sweep.

Last night, the A’s moved into a first place tie with the Angels. They also moved four games up on the Yankees in the wild card race. Even if the A’s don’t end up making the playoffs, this is still an amazing accomplishment. IIRC, there was one point this season when the A’s playoff odds had fallen below 1%; now it’s 71.4%.

The bad news: Mark Kotsay’s back looked visibly stiff, and he came out of the game. Thank Beane for Jay Payton.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

There are many reasons why people blog. Mine are twofold:

1. Because I enjoy the creative process.
2. Because I want to remember. I want to remember the things I learn, the things I find interesting, and the way I felt about those things at the time.

When I have trouble blogging about the A’s, it’s usually because I didn’t see anything that I felt was worth remembering. The last two games against the Twins were like that.

The only thing to note is that Dan Johnson came back home to Minnesota as a major leaguer for the first time, playing in front of large numbers of friends and family, and had a very good series, including an upper deck home run on Thursday. That was nice to see. Good for him.

But otherwise, these were two well-played games by both teams, close until the end. Each team came out with a victory: a fair result, all things considered, but unremarkable. Later, these two games will probably just blend away into the fabric of the season, and disappear.

* * *

But I think I’ll remember this day, for personal reasons. It was my half-birthday. Six months left to the big 4-0. My wife’s ten-year-old nephew (I’ll call him Hermey for reasons that will soon become clear) came over for the day to play with my two daughters (8 and 5).

Hermey’s pretty much an average kid except for one thing: he’s been obsessed with baseball since he was about four years old. The game comes incredibly naturally to him; his left-handed pitching motion is about as smooth as any I’ve seen at any level of play. Last year, he struck out 40 batters in 19 innings pitched. A couple weeks ago, he threw a no-hitter in an all-star tournament.

He studies the motions of every left-handed pitcher he sees, until he can imitate that pitcher with uncanny precision. I worry that he might ruin his great natural delivery some day by copying some major leaguer with worse mechanics than his.

I played some catch with Hermey, and the first thing he did was show me his latest imitation. “Look, this is how Joe Kennedy pitches,” he said. Sure enough, suddenly I’m playing catch with Joe Kennedy’s shorter twin, complete with Kennedy’s straight-kneed, stiff front leg that makes it look as if he’s gonna jam his thigh bone up into his hip. Enough of that, I think, let’s imitate some better mechanics. “Show me Barry Zito,” I say.

* * *

After lunch, we took my oldest daughter to her first ever visit to the orthodontist. So many memories I had buried long ago suddenly resurfaced: the scratchy feeling of gauze in my mouth after having teeth pulled, the icky smell of the wet plastic of my retainer, the strange feeling of pressure on my teeth while having my braces tightened, and the even stranger lack of pressure when those braces finally came off.

Obviously, my memories of orthodontics aren’t too pleasant. My daughter probably sensed that from me. She looked a little nervous going in. But it ended up not being a problem at all, because we had Hermey with us.

Hermey in that dentist’s office was like the proverbial kid in a candy store. He was excited by everything: the waiting room, the toothbrushes, the chairs, the mirrors, the computers, you name it. He loved it all. Finally, he just burst out: “Oh man, this is all so cool! When I grow up, I am definitely either going to be a ballplayer or a dentist!”

Now who can be nervous in the presence of such enthusiasm?

* * *

Most of us are lucky if we find one thing we are passionate about in life. Hermey has two. At some point in his life, he’ll have to choose between them, to decide which passion is greater. I can see it now: Eight years hence, Hermey is drafted in the first round of the draft:

GM: Why won’t you accept our offer?

Hermey: I just don’t want to play professional baseball.

GM: Oh well if that’s all– What? You don’t want to play professional baseball?

Hermey: No.

GM: Hermey doesn’t want to play professional baseball!

Scouts: Hermey doesn’t want to play professional baseball! All that talent going to waste! Shame on you!

GM: Would you mind telling me what you do wanna do?

Hermey: Well, I’d like to be a dentist.

I think Hermey could genuinely walk away from that contract negotiation and still be happy elf human being. That’s what I call leverage.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

Why put the blame on Mazzilli?
The GM needs pitchers more skilli.
Lee can’t have controlled
That Sosa got old,
And Roberts and Mora went chilli.

Last night, the A’s beat the Twins, 5-2. They could have moved into a first place tie in the AL West had the Angels lost, but Vladimir Guerrero didn’t cooperate.

On the other hand, the A’s did manage to move into first place in the MLB Heavyweight standings. They equalled the Blue Jays’ 20 title bout victories. But since it took the A’s ten fewer games to get those 20 wins, the A’s now own first place.

The Blue Jays had been in first place by themselves since May 11.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.

We humans think we’re all hot stuff cuz we got an Advanced Civilization with cool High-Tech gizmos like them Computer Internets that can quickly inform the masses of important information, like the news that They Found Steroids In Rafael Palmeiro’s Pee.

Piffle.

Yesterday, I left an open container of sugar on my counter, and in less than 24 hours, not only had every ant in Northern California found out that They Found Sugar In Ken Arneson’s Kitchen, they had all physically appeared inside my house to investigate the chemical for themselves.

Until we humans learn to do teleportation, we’ve got nothing on the ants.

* * *

Question: Which of these news stories on Monday was the most surprising?

A. Barry Bonds declares himself out for the year.

B. Rafael Palmeiro tests positive for steroids.

C. Joe Blanton outpitches Johan Santana.

D. Bomb explodes outside BA, BP Offices in Iran

Gotta be D. I didn’t even know Baseball America and Baseball Prospectus had offices in Iran.

* * *

While the ESPN commentators were blathering on about Palmeiro during Monday’s A’s-Twins game, they completely ignored a really interesting play. Bobby Kielty executed a textbook example of when and how to slide into first base. SS Jason Bartlett threw high to first base, forcing Justin Morneau to leap off the bag to catch it. Kielty reacted perfectly, quickly sliding right under Morneau’s tag attempt. If Kielty had run straight through, he would have been out. ESPN didn’t even notice what a cool play Kielty made. They didn’t discuss it, or even show a single replay. But trust me, go find the tape and put that play in your own personal instructional video. I give it my full en dorse ment.

* * *

Just wondering: why would anybody invest over a million dollars to build robots to mow ads into grass, when you could just use existing first-down-line technology to accomplish the same thing on TV?

* * *

SI.com has a nice photo gallery up on the A’s. This picture is the final out from an A’s-Phils game I went to. When I saw it live, I thought Johnson missed the tag, and seeing this picture, I still can’t tell.

* * *

I agree that classical music isn’t inherently superior to modern musical genres. Neither, however, is it doomed to obscurity: BBC’s recordings of Beethoven symphonies recently became (by far) the most downloaded music recordings ever. The classical art forms still have a role to play in the modern world, but as the times and the technologies and the art forms change, it takes time to figure out what that new role is.

* * *

I was thinking about the Baseball Hall of Fame ceremonies this weekend. There’s one award for Print Journalism. There’s another for Broadcast Journalism. Will there come a time, when we have come to understand the role of blogging in our society, when we see a third award category, for Online Journalism?

* * *

That’s it for now. Gotta go run and fight off another wave of ants…

I (Capital) never (Dot).
Ever (Period). Took (Not
by mistake (Close paren))
Any steroids (Footnote 10)
and cross my (Comma), hope to (Dash)–
Stuck (No) needles in my (Ca$h).

The trade deadline has passed, the Hall-of-Famers have been honored, and now that all those pleasantries are over, it’s time to get back to the action on the field bad news about the sport.

Wait a minute! I still have some unresolved rants regarding the trade deadline. It’s not nice to try to distract my audience with Big News™. I wasn’t done!

Screw it, I’ll go anyway:

One relatively heretofore (and heretoday, too, thanks MLB) unnoticed feature of the A’s recent string of playoff appearances is the immobility of their AL West competitors come the trade deadline. The A’s have been blessed in recent years by a division filled with GMs who do little but twiddle their thumbs in July. It’s not just luck that the A’s outperform these teams in the second half.

This year, the Angels and Rangers both still have decent odds of making the playoffs, but did nothing to improve themselves. Again.

How tough would the Angels be to pitch to if they had Mike Sweeney batting behind Guerrero and Anderson? That really worried me. I’m relieved it didn’t happen. It still could, I guess; can’t imagine too many teams would risk taking on his salary with a waiver claim given his history of back problems. But what would change in August that couldn’t have happened in July?

The only AL West team that did anything this weekend was Seattle. The Mariners now have Bill Bavasi instead of good ‘ol Stand Pat at GM, and Bavasi did a good job of pulling in some talent.

All the Mariner trades look good to me. In particular, the Randy Winn trade really annoys me, both because it improves an A’s rival, but because as a fair-weather Giants fan, I think the trade is just plain stoopid, in so many ways.

First of all, the Giants don’t need Randy Winn. Without Barry Bonds, the Giants are not going to win anything. With Barry Bonds, they don’t need Randy Winn.

Secondly, the difference between Randy Winn (.275/.342/.391/.733) and either of the two men he would replace, Michael Tucker (.260/.338/.399/.737) and Jason Ellison (.276/.331/.385/.716), is small. They’re all the same type of player. Is that small difference worth giving up either Yorvit Torrealba or Jesse Foppert? Maybe, but I don’t think so. Both? No way.

Third, with Foppert, I think they’re making the exact same mistake they made with Joe Nathan. They looked at his year coming off arm surgery and thought he had lost his stuff and was washed up, and traded him. Next year, Nathan’s stuff is back, and he’s an all-star. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Foppert did the same thing.

Fourth, and most importantly (to me), I like Torrealba, but Brian Sabean doesn’t. I wanted him to be the starting catcher for the Giants before they traded for A.J. Pierzynski and before they signed Mike Matheny. From what I’ve seen of Torrealba, I think he can be a pretty solid catcher if he got a chance. Not great, but good enough, especially for a minimum salary. Sabean had two chances to give Torrealba a shot at the starting catcher job, but decided to go the far more expensive route instead. I still can’t figure out why.

And now, as a direct result of Sabean’s distrust of Torrealba, he went and traded for Pierzynski and Winn, giving up not only Torrealba, but Foppert AND Nathan AND Boof Bonser AND (this may be the most painful part of all) Francisco Liriano (go take a look at Lirano’s stats this year for the final dagger in the folly of Sabean’s dislike for Torrealba)–with, in the end, just the difference in production between Winn and Tucker/Ellison to show for all of that distrust.

Just an awful, awful, awful sequence of events for Giants fans. It will cost them for years to come. There’s a thick fog rolling in over San Francisco, and as I look toward SBC Park from across the bay, I suspect it will be a long, long time before this fair-weather Giants fan will be able to see a thing. So long, I may forget they even exist.

My only reminders will come on days like today, when the A’s face Joe Nathan’s Twins. The A’s will probably have to face him and Liriano and Foppert many times in years to come. And each time they do, I will shake my head and remember, knowing that these talented opponents, and those thick gray clouds that block my view to the west, all grew from one brain cell in Brian Sabean’s mind, where he stored his inexplicable dislike of Yorvit Torrealba.

This is Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.