No Talking in Hockey.

I’m an American living in Finland for the past two years.  Maybe you’ve heard some of the Finnish stereotypes–for example, that rowdy drinking and the occasional bar fight are a big part of the social culture.  Everyone loves sauna.  And Finns don’t talk much.  I can tell you that they are all true/not true.

So I recently went to a hockey game with a woman from work who had an extra ticket, Jokers against some other people.  I can’t say I follow sports, but I like a live event as much as the next person, and I am particularly fond of the sound it makes when one guy smashes the face of another guy into the plexiglass.

I understand that going to games is a social thing.  You eat some dogs, you cheer, you talk shit.   But about 10 minutes in, I realize I’m sitting with A Woman.  Sure, I’m a woman.  But she had turned into some other kind of stereotype I was not at all prepared for.  She had the odd, genetically recessive gift of yap, and all I could think of was, “So are you going to shut up and watch the game, or are we going to have a problem?”

I appreciated her explaining the rules to me, a foreigner, but I was pretty sure she was making them up.  She kept changing them, “No, no, no, I’m wrong about that, they can hit it from there if that other guy is behind him.  But not from that line.”   What? It’s hockey. You hit the puck into the thing.  I get it.

After she had exhausted all possible combinations of rules, she went on to explain the delicate make-up of sports psychology.  She seemed to have a keen understanding as to why players moved the way they did, their formations, why they push and spit.  Everything they did was attributed to lack of confidence.  Or an abundance of confidence.  Or sometimes, just a big psych-out.  I told her I was pretty sure they really just wanted to move fast and score. 

She then compared this game to the last one she went to.  Maybe it was The Blues.  Maybe it was JYP.   She couldn’t remember who won, or any spectacular plays. But it was better than this game.  And it was 16 YEARS AGO.  Which is what I guess made her the resident expert.  

When the game ended I cheered, mostly for its being over.  I had found it equally as exhausting to ignore the gab completely,  as it was to politely nod and say “yeah” from time to time.  What happened to sullen and quiet?  What happened to the Finnish economy of words?  It was yet another stereotype in this great land that had its consistent inconsistencies.  Much like its grammar.

As we filed out, my friend asked, did I want to go someplace for some dinner?  No.  I only wanted to grab a quick slice of SHUT IT, and get the hell home to the sanctity of my tiny overpriced northern European alcove apartment, where I would have a cold beer and a hot sauna waiting for me. 

Because, crap.  I’d take a bar fight to that any day.

Give a big Welcome to Katie Rinki, our newest contributor to The Scrum.

Sports Haven? Really?

I’ve been here a dozen years. Love the winters.  Actually, from late October right through early June, you just can’t beat the weather. Ask any relocate-ee from the north and they’ll tell you, the reason they moved here is the weather.  They might tell you it was a career move — they’re lying.

That said, there are other things in South Florida that make living here pleasant.  We’ve got among the best beaches on the planet. Some excellent restaurants. Spectacular entertainment. And for the nature enthusiasts — the Everglades really are incredible. 

Then there’s the sports scene. 

The Miami Dolphins have been here since 1966, so they actually have a history. They have a fan base, and a glory era from which to lure new fans — the mystique of the perfect season — the Hall of Famers like Marino, Czonka…and….well there are others.

The Florida Marlins repeatedly put viable talent on the field almost every year. They’ve got two World Series titles to their credit in just 16 seasons of existence. Impressive by any standard. But they draw slightly better than The Secret Life of Squirrels on the Discovery Channel.

The Heat? A perennial playoff contender in the late 90’s and one championship. Not too bad for a team that only started 20 years ago. But…lots of empty seats. And the one’s that are (save a few diehards) are filled with beautiful people hoping to be seen.

The Panthers.  Ice Hockey. NHL Hockey in South Florida. It’s a great game to watch, but somehow watching guys kill each other for three periods on frozen precipitation, then stepping outisde the arena into a tropical paradise…let’s just say it’s a little odd.

And that’s it really. It’s the fact that we kind of live in Shangrila down here.

Are there too many distractions? Why does the sports scene stink? These questions aren’t exactly new. Sportscasters have been trying to answer them for years.  But I haven’t heard the definitive answer yet. The real hardcore sports fans, are transplants from the Northeast, and maybe Chicago. In fact, I’ll go on record and say no metropolitan area in the country has more displaced fans. Not even LA. 

Go see the Mets play the Marlins at Dolphins Stadium and count how many blue and orange hats with the interlocking NY are in the seats.  I was at a game last season when the Mets fans’ cheer of “Let’s Go Mets” drowned out the Marlins chants. Perhaps drowing out is inaccurate — blew it away is more more like it.

Ready for the theories? Ready for the excuses?

Too many distractions. Too many displaced fans. Too much oppressive heat. Too many rainstorms during baseball season.

The teams aren’t winning? WRONG. Even during championship runs, there were plenty of empty seats in the stadium and arenas.

I think I’ve got it.  The one answer that really is quite simple. Everywhere you look in South Florida…every park, every makeshift field, every driveway, people are playing sports.  EVERYWHERE. They’re playing soccer and basketball and touch football and golf and tennis and baseball. I drive by sports complexes every single day…and no matter what time of the day it is or what time of the year it is…someone is out there…playing. Youth leagues are overflowing. Adult leagues are bursting at the seams. Pick up games have waiting lines.

And so, maybe…just maybe…we’ve been looking at this whole thing from outside in, instead of inside out. Maybe this city, this chunk of land at the end of a peninsula amid palm trees and tropical breezes is the greatest sports area in the country. Only nobody’s watching — they’re too busy getting in the game.

No matter what side of the political spectrum you sit on, you have to admit, Tuesday’s election of Barack Obama was historic.  The campaign certainly had its front page moments.  And, like every political season, the slogans were flying. Obama adopted YES WE CAN.  It caught on, but it wasn’t original. 

You have to go back more than thirty years when another African-American started using the line. But he wasn’t running for president.  He was an All-Star second baseman named Dave Cash. Cash was the Philadelphia Phillies YES WE CAN man. Just ask any Philadelphian in their early forties or older, and they’ll probably remember the catch phrase. He wore the slogan on T-shirts and the team actually used it (as pictured below) as their unofficial team battle-cry.  

The Phillies made YES WE CAN their battle cry in 1976 -- and Dave Cash coined it.

The YES WE CAN man, Dave Cash

You see, the Phillies were pretty awful until Cash showed up from the rival Pirates in 1974.  It was Cash who brought a winning attitude into the locker room. This fuzzy faced team with emerging stars like Greg Luzinski, Larry Bowa, and Bob Boone began to believe in themselves.  Oh yeah, they also had a couple of Hall of Famers in the making named Steve Carlton and Mike Schmidt. 

By 1976, the Phillies finally made the post season after 26 years of PHrustration, and the town caught Phillies Fever.  A song was recorded with the YES WE CAN man leading the way.  Have a listen, its wonderfully terrible, and undeniably 70’s.

I was told once ”Nothing is original. There are no new ideas.”  I’ve never completely believed that. If its true, does anyone have an actual date when all original ideas ran out?  How about, May 12, 1996? There, I just made that up…maybe that thought is original. 

One thing that wasn’t original? The use of YES WE CAN by the Obama campaign.  Credit goes to David Cash Jr.

Ok — So its been nearly a week since the Phillies won the World Series.  Of all my friends, only four are Phillies fans. The rest are Yankees and Mets fans.  There’s a Pirates fan and couple of Marlins fans too.

I heard from the Pirates fan, right here on this blog. Thanks for the kind words Angelo. The Marlins fans called too, they said they were happy the team I’ve endured the past 28 years won a title. Thanks guys. Classy move.

Then the Yankees fans chimed in. “The Phillies played great,” said one. “I’m happy for you,” said another. They all called or sent emails of congrats — not that I had anything to do with it. But thanks guys. I guess after you’ve won 26 titles, you can be magnanimous. Yankees fans understand what it means to win a championship. So their calls carried a lot of weight.

Then there were the Mets fans.

I heard from one Mets fan. One. He just happens to be the guy who co-owns TSD, Charles Epstein — A class act all the way around, so I wasn’t stunned he called.

But every other Mets fan I know?  NADA. Not one word. So typical. You know who you are. Can’t you guys put away your hostility for a simple act of good sportsmanship? I guess not. 

That’s it. I’m done Mets fans.  You won’t hear from me till spring training. Then it starts all over again.  But remember, WE’VE got the bragging rights.  And, should you be so lucky next year to win the title, I’ll one up you then too. 

Because, much to your chagrin, I’ll offer congratulations.

Nyet from Met. Not even a "you guys lucked out" from Mr. Met.

On Friday, Ocotber 31st at Philadelphia’s Citizen’s Bank Park, Phillies second baseman Chase Utley spoke to thousands of excited Phillies fans celebrating only their second World Series title in 126 years.

If you haven’t seen the clip, here it is:

Surprisingly, MOST people in Philly loved this. They didn’t mind their kids hearing Chase Utley drop the F-bomb as clear as day. EVERY TV station Philly carried it live.

What I love about this is that we witnessed a genuine moment of joy. Not the santized, scripted Disney-esque hoo-hah we always hear from our sports heroes.  Chase Utley simply said what every Phillies fan was thinking and feeling — every Phillies fan who had endured a generation of pent up frustration.  He captured it with one, simple beautiful phrase.  The word — FUCKING — was used not out of anger or spite, but out of joy.  

I have a young son. I don’t use the word regularly around the house - certainly not when he’s within earshot.  But I don’t shield him from it either.  It’s a word. There are so many other dangerous things out there besides saying FUCKING.

We’re so panicky about the language and sex on TV and in the movies. Yet, we buy our kids video games where soldiers blow apart ”the enemy” and think nothing of it.  But we spring into action the second someone says something we’re not supposed to say on TV.   Let’s be clear about something.  This IS NOT the pre-fabricated, witless, Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction from the Super Bowl a couple years back that unfortunately got the thought police (the far left and religious right) on a PC witch hunt.  This is a moment of exaltation… an honest, human expression of accomplishment, love and utter joy.  

There’s a difference — and shame on those who can’t tell the difference.

And by the way, this is not a Phillies issue, because I’m a Phillies fan. This is a real moment in time I’d defend if it was uttered by a World Champion member of the Dodgers, Yankees or Red Sox — hell I’d even smile if a Met had said it.

I sincerely hope Chase Utley doesn’t apologize (though he’ll be pressured to) for having perhaps the most honest emotion any professional athlete has ever had on a national stage.

I’ve watched this clip over and over - because in my lifetime, I have never seen a more honest reaction from fans — one of sheer surprise, unbridled joy and unconditional love for a hometown hero for speaking his mind and delivering on a long overdue championship. It is simply magical.

And if the do-gooders who shield their children from every joyous naughty word don’t like it…fuck ‘em.

* How do you know when you’ve grown up?  Well, I’m not sure, since I still consider myself to be a big kid.  But I’m STARTING to grow up.  How do I know?  It’s all about this year’s World Series.  You see, I’m one of those “bitter” people from Pennsylvania.  Well, not the ones Senator Obama is talking about.  I’m a “Baseball Bitter” former Pennsylvanian.  I grew up living closer to Philadelphia, but being the biggest Pirates fan in the World.  The Lumber Company.  Lumber and Lightning.  Willie Stargell.  Roberto Clemente.  Dave Parker.  John Candeleria.  Give me an hour and I’ll name every Pittsburgh Pirate who played in the 1970’s.  Back then, if you were a Pirates fan, you hated the Phillies.  If you were a Phillies fan, you hated the Pirates.  Cross-state rivals.  Bitter enemies.  It’s STARGELL’S destiny to win the Home Run title, not Mike Schmidt’s.  The Pirates rule the NL East, not the Phillies.  And yes, back in those days, when the Phillies crushed the Pirates’ hopes by winning a few NL East titles in a row, I’d cheer for ANYONE except the Phillies to win the World Series.  After all, they beat my team, so I wanted to see them fall.   We respected the Phillies, but we still hated them.  That mentality stuck with me even when I was chronologically an adult.  Hooray Joe Carter, Hooray.  Go Blue Jays.  Well, times have changed, and it’s not just because the Pirates are no longer in the NL East, and it’s not just because the Pirates suck now.  No, even if the Pirates were winning games, threatening to play .500—even if they were making the playoffs and losing to the Phillies—I’d be proudly cheering for the Phils to represent Pennsylvania the right way:  By WINNING!  This year, I picked the Phillies to win the World Series at the start of the playoffs.  I knew they had the right chemistry to win it all this year, and I like the guys on their team.  I was a Pirates fan who “turned Phillies red” for a few weeks in October of ‘08 and it felt good.  What a great season for the Phillies and their fans.  Someday, I hope the Pirates pull off a miracle to become competitive enough to matter again.  Then I’ll pull for them to beat the Phillies if they should meet in the post-season.  But if “the worst” happens and the Phillies advance?  GO PHILADELPHIA!  My Uncle Stanley would be proud of me!

126 Years. Second Title.

The first one I got to watch with my dad when I was 16.  Now, at 44 I got to watch the second one with my son.

There are times when I’ve asked myself “what makes life worth living?”  I’ve got a short list. My family. My friends. Listening to Chick Corea play piano.  Swimming in the Aegean Sea in the land of my fathers.

Tonight I got another answer.  When you love a city and it’s teams so much, but you’re not used winning, and the day that you do win finally comes, it means everything. EVERYTHING.

Then came the life changing moment. I wasn’t supposed to be here. On January 23rd, 2007 I had a heart attack. Had I not gotten immediate (and I mean immediate) help, I would have been dead. “Two minutes more” that’s what the doctor said. I’d be dead now if two more minutes would have passed. A massive, life ending heart attack. 

Instead, I survived.

After finding out I’d be OK – My wife asked me what I wanted to do or see.  A bucket list of sorts. Not that I planned on dying off any time soon.  I didn’t have to think very hard. It was all about baseball.  

I wanted to see a game in Wrigley Field.  I did that. I wanted to play catch with my son on the real “Field of Dreams” in Iowa. I did that. The third thing wasn’t so easy, because I had no control over it.  The third thing was I wanted to see the Phillies win another World Series.

THEY did that.

The first one I got to watch with my dad when I was 16.  Now, at 44 I got to watch the second one with my son.

Yeah, life is very definitely — worth living.

Hey Bud, what's your problem?

7:23 AM. That’s when I got the call from John Tuttle, the west coast organizer of BUD-Cott 2009. It was 4:23 AM in California.  Tuttle and his staff (made up of doctors, lawyers, accountants, and police officers), who have long been at work organizing BUD-Cott to oust abysmal MLB Commish Bud Selig, kicked into overdrive last night in an attempt to save baseball from any future horror shows. 

“We had ordered some pizzas last night and sat around watching the game,” said Tuttle. “We are baseball fans. We are made up of fans from all teams. Last night, about fifty of us in the LA area got together to watch game five of the World Series. We had a few folks sprinkled in the crowd rooting for Philadelphia and maybe two rooting for the Rays.  When the disastrous rains came followed by Bud Selig’s even more disastrous decision making and pathetic press conference, we sprung into action.”

The “springing into action” Tuttle refers to is to attach an actual clear, concise, plan and date to BUD-Cott. Make no mistake though, this has been in the works for weeks. It just needed a date. The date has been chosen.

It will happen in 2009, Opening Day. 

The message to the Commish? You’re out. 

Here is the open letter to every paying baseball fan of every team in America sent to me by John Tuttle.

Dear Fans,

We are the organizers of BUD-Cott 2009.  Our membership is 1,525 strong and growing every day.  We are fans like you. We are made up of Yankees fans, and Red Sox fans. Cubs fans and Cardinals fans. Dodgers fans and Giants fans. Phillies fans and Mets fans. Though we may all go head to head on the field and trash talk each other, we stand arm in arm on one matter.  NO MORE BUD SELIG. Period.

Therefore, the BUD-Cott 2009 boycott is scheduled to take place across baseball on Opening Day, 2009. We must get the message out now. It will take months to circulate and build to a fever pitch. There’s no better time to call attention to this boycott than right now, on the heels of perhaps the worst decision Selig has ever made — allowing game five to go on in deplorable conditions.

We are urging every fan to boycott opening day in every Major League park.  Don’t even watch the games on TV. 

This is NOT a protest against the players.  That needs to be clear.

This is a protest against one man and a message to the team owners that this level of incompetence must not and will not be tolerated for another season. Bud Selig is single handedly responsible for the worst decision making in the history of sports. If he was the head of any major corporation, he would have been fired long ago.  Yet, somehow he has been able to poison the great American game for seventeen seasons. 

Join us in ridding the game we love of Allan Huber “Bud” Selig Jr. once and for all.

Thank you,

John Tuttle, President, BUD-Cott 2009.

Tighten up the season -- please!!!

SUSPENDED. 

As TSD’s resident Phillies fan, I was all prepared for a long sleepless night of baseball bliss — a celebration of the second World Championship in the team’s 125 year history.  Instead, it’s the sixth inning and its knotted up at two, with the Phillies coming to bat. That’s all we know just after midnight as miserable weather has the upper eastern seaboard socked in.   When will the rest of the game be played?  Most likely not Tuesday as the weather is supposed to be worse. Wednesday? Maybe. It’ll be cold, but the rain is supposed to be gone from the Philadelphia area.  I can hardly wait.

Folks — its the end of October in the Northeast. The weather is supposed to be crappy.  Once MLB added the Division Series and all but eliminated regular season double headers, the already long baseball season, got longer.  Now a World Series can go into November. Its happened once already. 

The schedule needs to be altered somehow.

The players union and managers don’t want to see scheduled doubled headers anymore because it messes with their pitching rotations and the almighty pitch count.  The owners don’t want to see them because the once wonderful “let’s play two” mantra from Mr. Cub, Ernie Banks means only ONE ticket price for TWO games — oops, can’t have that.

So….

Here we are on the brink of November with potentially two and a half games left to play because Major League Baseball just doesn’t get it.  We should all be used to it by now though — after all, its the magical and never ending joy ride of the Bud Selig Adminstration.   

How can we fix this?  Let’s try a few obvious moves first. Accepting that we’re not going to change the 162 game season, we need to have less off days. Let’s also begin the season in warmer weather climates and/or in domed or retractable roof parks. Early April brings showers, even snow up north. Make sense right?  What does this mean? Califorinia, Florida, Arizona, Texas, Georgia, you guys and the select few indoor parks get to kick things off giving the season a great chance of getting those games in on time.

Next, travel days — shorten them up. Mondays and Thursdays are travel days. Make an adjustment here.  And have a heart and bring back the double header. It can save an extra two days a season.  

The All-Star break is three days long (always Monday-Wednesday). Often, a few teams don’t even play on Thursday making it four straight days without a regular season game. Unacceptable.  Here’s the solution. The Sunday before the All-Star break, all games should be noon starts with no games played west of the central time zone.  Immediately after the games, the all-star players fly to the All-Star City.  Have all All-Star activities like the homerun hitting contest, etc on Monday afternoon and play the game itself on Monday night.  Tuesday is the off day for travel and MLB goes “officially dark” for one day. Resume with at least a partial schedule on Wednesday.  

These measures can all but assure the regular season to end by around September 22.  The Division Series could then be over before October.  Then things could get back to normal.  The World Series could actually end before October 20th.  It gives the baseball gods, not to mention, the paying fans a chance to not have to endure freezing rain and baseball played at 34 degrees.

Wake up! 

And oh yeah, almost forgot…

Go Philles!!