38 and 19

It's funny the different times of my life that have coincided with witnessing Curt Schilling perfect his craft on the mound. He has triumphed and also failed on the grandest stage of all, the World Series. In 1993 I was a snot nosed teenager who inevitably knew everything about anything. In being this knowledgeable of a fellow I also knew that jumping off the stage at school during "Enter Sandman"may get me a little time in the doghouse. The 3-month grounding I received ran through late October which meant no watching of the Fall Classic between Philadelphia and Toronto. Watching on what seemed to be a 6 or 7 inch television with rabbit ears I saw Curt Schilling pitch complete game domination over a Toronto line-up that included PaulMoliter, Rickey Henderson, Roberto Alomar, Pat Borders,Joe Carter, John Olerud, and Tony Fernandez. Keeping those hitters in check was almost as difficult as keeping my mom from knowing I was watching the game. Listening for her footsteps as fiercely as Schilling silenced the Bluejay
bats. This particular experience ended bittersweet as Ole 38 won Game 5, but never got to come back on short rest to try and win a Game 7 as Joe Carter dashed my hopes with one swing.

Flash to 2001. As many folks were trying to figure out what it all meant at the end of that year, a veteran squad led by two fierce fireballers helped show what kind of spirit American sports were all about. This time getting to see Curt Schilling would forever rank in the top three of my baseball experiences. With a trusted partner in toe and Rand McNally at my finger tips I made my way down to the B.O.B. and saw with my own eyes Curt Schilling beat the hated Yankees in Game 1 of the 2001 World Series. Once again hurling a complete game for the ages as the D'Backs went on to a thrilling 7 game victory over "America's team". That series taught me the true meaning of David vs. Goliath. The only people in the entire country and world I should say rooting for the D'backs were in Arizona and scattered sparingly across the country. The support that New York got after 9/11 almost seemed an unfair advantage. I felt my man was going to give it his all, but believed that somewhere above the decision had been made that New York needed some healing after 9/11. What transpired was probably the most fulfilling World Series I will ever experience. Although Schilling would only end up with 1 victory although he started 3 games (leaving with a lead in Game 4 and throwing 7 solid innings inGame 7) the gods decided to shine on the true motor that ran the team and named Curt Schilling and Randy Johnson co-mvp's of the Series.

Blinkto2004. A line had been drawn in the sand. You had either been a red state
or a blue state. With these colors I mean rooting for the Red Sox or the Yankees. The Championship Series had provided more twists and turns then McQueen on Lombard. The momentum coming out of that Series and I think a little adrenaline too helped Curt Schilling enter the realm of mythic World Series performers. The "bloody sock" will be remembered by folks 20 years from now and they won't know why. It's recent enshrinement in Cooperstown guarantees the story will be told every year for the rest of our lives. Watching his 6 innings of mastery over a vaunted Cardinals line-up that suddenly sputtered was almost as enjoyable as seeing the final out made to break the "Curse of theBambino".

Skip ahead to 20??. Somewhere I will be tending to my future. Maybe chasing a little one around or heading up endless meetings at some job. The announcement of his retirement will be brief when I hear it. Probably during the off-season when news seems to go unnoticed. It may not cause much fanfare, but the memories and thoughts will stir like a crowd of 40,000 screaming for their fella to dig deep and hurl just one more strike.

Thanks Curt.

Bringing it home for Finn's

Who the hell plays softball in 40 degree weather during the month ofNovember? Finn McCools that's who. On a not so toasty evening in San Mateo a mostly sober crew pulled it together and won the 1st chipper for the new sponsor. Beating an old rival in a nail biter and then going ahead and topping that game with a comeback for the ages. The best line that summed it up was veteran 1st sacker Bryan "Jesus, is that thing evergoing to land" McKevitt rallying the troops during both games with "It's no secret why we're here". Good words my man.


As with any review of a championship team goes we start at the top. Field General Mark "the missing Coors Light twin" Schaukowitch put together a motley crew of hooligans and hot chicks. In trying to get a sound byte from the coach in the parking lot after the game I was met with screeching tires and a challenge to beat him to the bar. His line-up juggling and strong skills of fielding balls with his head turned towards the sky truly was the driving force behind this chipper.


The catcher for this drive to the championship was Jamie H. Following up her successful Rookie of the Year campaign in SSF she came up with the most clutch at-bat of her young career. Beating out a grounder inthe bottom of the 7th to extend the inning was by far the most important at-bat of the evening. Atta girl. Pitching for Finn's this evening was none other than Andy "I cant coach 3rd I have to rest" Dunning. Since he is a caveman and doesn't have email access we can rip all we want........but we won't. His 2 run gem against CBG cannot be put into words. You had to be there. Watching him hobble around the bases and take until he got a strike reminded me why Lions eat their young.


Picking errant throws and blasting moon shots @ 1st base was none other than McKevitt. While putting his cleats up for the off season he clearly stated why he is so successful in this game "They pitch it to you underhanded so...ya know what the fuck". Snaring hot shots and generally starting a rally when it was needed was none other than Tess "WTF"Pajarillo. In asking her what the trick was for her smacking the ball all over the park she simply stated "I whip my bf with a tree branch inthe back while he does the dishes and it sharpens my batting eye." Take note ladies. El Capitan of the infield was Shock with his steady glove and his cool headed approach. When defiance needed to be showed towards an umpire who couldn't make a call there was Shock offering a olive branch of peace by slowly rolling the ball to the umpire. A born leader. The hot corner was patrolled by our own fiery pistol Annette.Whether it be gracefully stabbing line drives or driving up our fan attendance with a wink and a smile this gal shows up to play. A key free agent acquisition during the summer.


Roaming the corner outfield positions were Diana and J-Lo fo sho.Whether it was D flashing her cannon and keeping folks from taking the extra base or Janice doing her best impression of Kung Fu-Matrix-Corkey from Life Goes On while trying to field a line drive there is never a dull moment with these gals. The middle of the outfield seemed to be where hits go to die. Whether its Richie serving up a little "What can brown do for you?" with his sure glove and timely hitting or Joe "Wheres the fire" Perna passing off his veteran wisdom to the younger players about recliner chairs and switch hitting. Often there is no words to describe a player who brings his A-game for the playoffs, but what good ol' Mike "Peck-Peck" Peckham brought on this crisp Wednesday evening was beyond words. Whether it was his sound assessment of his at-bats....I believe gay was how he described it......or his all out hustle to dive for flyballs without an open mitt. He definitely brought the right stuff to push this group over the hump.





"We are the Champions, my friends"

756

How can you dispute the number?

It's as daunting as Everest. It resonates in your ears when it is said in your direction. If only because 755 was so unimaginable.

I have long fallen on the side of the fence reserved for the "Haters" as one of my colleagues so eloquently put it one Sunday afternoon on the ball field. The only question I put to you(if you are a baseball fan)is How do you go about proving he isn't the greatest ball player of all-time?

You can blindly say you are a (fill in the blank) fan and can't stand his guts. That works for about a minute until he hits a shot out of your home stadium and your standing up with your dog in one hand and mouthing Oh my God as the ball crosses the moon like ET once did. You could stand up for the Moral Majority(are there any left?)who say that he cheated and his numbers from his Incredible Hulk days shouldn't be counted. Okay then. Where do we begin? Is it from where he supposedly got jealous of the '98 blind eye lovefest known as the McGwire-Sosa chase or around the time that YOU noticed he had turned into a true Giant with a new hat size and all. A little fuzzy on when that was? Trying to reach back to a point in time before he hit 73*. Chances are you can't pinpoint exactly when you noticed he was a freak of good lab practices, but that doesn't matter. You do know that before he became public enemy #1 he was the best baseball player in the game. Matching speed, defense and hitting. The proverbial 5-tool player just missing the postseason glory that cements your place with the Gods. Does it really matter if he ever admits that he cheated? My answer now has to be No.