You Stink Blue!

The smell of the freshly cut green grass. The sounds of the ball popping the mitt and flying off the bats. The sunshine, the cheering, and the competitiveness. The Yankees are back. And so are the Mets, and Phillies, and Jaguars and Bearcats and Mustangs. Of course, I'm speaking of Little League. And yours truly has decided to give back to the organization that gave him so much. No, not as a coach, but as a, what else, an umpire. After responding to an ad in the paper, I am now the newest umpire to roam the fields of New York City. My first official game was a Tee-ball match up  the 2nd week of April. There was actually no tee, but coaches pitched and the kids were of T-Ball age. All I had to do was keep track of swings and rule safe or out on the bases. The only thing that made it difficult was the fact that it was raining and about 45 degrees out. But we got thru the game and fortunately for me, I didn't even have to put on the gear. I was just happy to get out of the rain.

But this past weekend was my real debut. I was to work a Pony League doubleheader in the North Meadow of the great Central Park. I would be behind the plate for the first game, the base umpire for the second. I believe the ages of the kids was 14 and 15, and maybe even 16, although I'm not sure. They played on a regulation field, which I'll tell you off the bat was a little too big for some of the kids. But being that this was the oldest age group the Yorkville Youth Athletic Association offered, I was curious as to just how hard the pitchers would throw. I remember when I was 15, there were guys who threw real hard. So, being that it had been about 14 years since I put on a cup, and about 20 years since I put on gear to be behind the plate, I was both excited and apprehensive.

But I strapped it on and arrived at the fields in the middle of the upper west and east sides of Manhattan prepared to take my licks. The day was a perfect one for baseball: a clear blue sky, bright sunshine, and the temperature was a brisk 60 degrees, but warming up to about 70 by the time the second game started at 11:15 AM. After a brief meeting with the coaches at home plate, it was time for the boys to take the field. I won't go into too much detail about the game because this email is already getting too long, but I'll just touch on a few highlights.

First of all, I was totally expecting the be like Lieutenant Frank Drebin, aka Enrico Palazzo, aka Leslie Nielsen in the Naked Gun when he was the umpire in the Angels/Mariners game played at Dodgers Stadium (a beef I have with the movie actually, but we'll save that for another time). I figured that I'd just have that blank stare on the first pitch because I was either pissing my pants from fear or I just couldn't see the pitch. But, luckily for me, the pitcher didn't throw that hard and I actually felt quite comfortable squatting behind the catcher with all my gear on. It took me about 3 pitches to realize that I have the same problem as an umpire as I did as a player: I can't pick up the outside part of the plate. I chuckled to myself because I literally thought about it at the time. But for the most part, I was wishing I had a bat in my hand because there were so many pitches that I would have loved to take a hack at. 

The catcher for one of the teams couldn't catch anything which concerned me, but he was thankfully able to protect me from getting hit. I was also lucky enough not to take any foul balls off my elbows or any other part of my body. I got to ring a few guys up on called strikes which was really cool. I lost track of the count once and had to ask my base umpire (that was embarrassing) for the correct one. I called a runner safe on a close play at the plate (I thought he slid under the tag, cause the tag was high...we'll just assume I was right). I even received a "Oh c'mon Blue" from one of the parents which made feel all warm and fuzzy inside. One of the coaches questioned a ball I called by asking "Where was that one?" I answered with a confident, "Inside." His response reminded me again of The Naked Gun..."Inside!!??" Never mind that the pitch almost hit the batter. I will say that, looking back, I think I could open up my strike zone a little bit. But I think it's because I still think like a hitter, and not wanting to cheat the batter, I don't want to give the pitcher anything close. But I'll have to work on it, cause this is Little League after all.

There were 2 plays that are worth mentioning. I'll just give you the situations. 

1 out, runners on 1st and 3rd, 3 balls on the batter. On the pitch, the runner on 1st takes off for 2nd. The pitch is high and I say, "Ball 4." In hindsight, I should have said that louder, because the catcher threw down to 2nd trying to get the guy stealing. Because he sucked, he threw the ball into centerfield, and the runner from 3rd scored. No problem, right? Wrong. My base umpire calls timeout and motions for me to come over to him in the middle of the field. His take was that since it was ball 4, the runner on first gets a free pass to second and therefore the play is dead and the run should not score. I disagreed immediately, saying if the catcher throws the ball away, the other runners are free to advance, and that a walk does not create a dead ball situation. He disagreed and he called the coaches over, neither if which had a problem with my ruling and we continued the game. I asked my boss, who showed up a little later into the game, and he agreed with the base umpire. I still say I'm correct, so if anyone wants to validate my ruling, feel free.

2nd play...runner on 1st, 1 out, and 1 strike on the batter. Again, the runner on first takes off, and the batter swings and foul tips the pitch, which is caught by the catcher. The runner steals easily without a throw and all I do is give the swinging strike signal. No problem. right? Wrong. The base umpire calls time out and says because it was a foul tip, the runner has to go back to 1st. I said that because the catcher caught the ball, it's just a regular swinging strike and play is not dead. He disagreed and because I was only 95% sure bout this one, I gave him his ruling. Again, the coaches didn't really argue, but I looked it up in the rule book the other day and sure enough, I was correct again. The Pony League uses MLB rules for the most part and in the book it clearly states that I was correct. You can look it up if you want to.

The game ended after 5 innings because one team was up by more than 12 runs. So my first game behind the dish was in the books, and all in all, I had a great time. I felt like I was playing again and it was great to be out there. I hope I'm still saying that when I get hit by my first foul tip. Now I could relax and work the bases in game 2.

Nothing major to report on the bases...had a close play at 3rd in which I called the guy out....almost got hit by a line drive missile up the middle in which I just got out of the way of... and had a bunch of routine calls at first. The funniest part of the game was when the pitcher, in the windup set, realized he needed to be in the stretch because there were runners on base, asked for time. I said to him, "Just step off with your right foot." (He was right handed). He replied, "I don't know how." I felt bad for him at this point so I called time, but I told him that in the future, all he had to do was step off with his right foot. That's right, my first game, and I was already molding young ball players into better ones. I think I'll take up coaching next summer.

This coming Sunday I work the 8,9, and 10 year olds. I hope the catcher can catch.

You Stink Blue...Chapter 3

The weather guys had predicted rain all weekend, so I was expecting to not even work. But, like usual, the weather guys were wrong. Although early on it looked like they may be right. When I woke up at 6:30 am for my 8 am game, it was cloudy, damp and a little cool. After calling the league's hotline number to confirm the games were still on, I got dressed and started walking to the Great Lawn in Central Park. The Park is only about a five minute walk from my apartment, so I was happy about that. The Great Lawn is a huge oval of grass and LIttle League/softball fields which is used by ball players, kite flyers and sun bathers alike, and all at the same time. It seperates the Upper East and West Side, and stretches from 77th St. to 86th St., approximately. It is the heart of Central Park and a popular meeting place for the locals who hang out in the city on the weekends. It's also where the New York Philharmonic and Metropolitan Opera set up for their summer productions. And apparantly at 7:30am on a Saturday, the paved oval that surrounds the lawn is a meeting place for dozens and dozens of dogs. How nice.
The morons at the Parks Department do not actually open up the Lawn, however, until 8 am exactly, which makes it pretty difficult to start the game on time.  I was shocked and impressed to see though that they dragged and raked the field that early. That was always one of the advantages, as I remember, of playing the day's first game: a freshly dragged infield. It started to drizzle a little bit and I was worried we wouldn't get the games in. The gates were finally opened and I allowed the two teams, the Bobcats and the Coyotes, some time to warm up. I also had to put the bases out and make sure they were 60 feet apart. I used the tape measure to be official.
After the usual meetings with the coaches, it was finally time to play ball. I recognized the light blue uniforms of the Bobcats from last week. I also recognized the short chubby kid who happened to be pitching this week. This kid was a dead on ringer for the fat kid in the movie Little Giants. If you've seen the movie, you know who I'm talking about. If you haven't seen the movie, go see it so you'll know who I'm talking about. Not much to report on this game. The Bobcats took another one on the chin, getting pummeled by a score of 16-3, I think. To be honest, I stopped counting at that point.  Fortunately for the Bobcats, the game ended after 5 innings, because we reached the 2 hour time limit. A representative from the league, Elon, was also present and he was the one who enforced the time limit. The rule states that an inning cannot be started with less than 15 minutes to go before the 2 hour max. We were at 10 minutes and because there was a game after this one, we had to be strict with it.
The Pumas and Colts provided a little more excitement in the 2nd game, and by a little, I mean a whole lot. These were clearly the top 2 teams in the league, and it showed in the first inning. The Pumas, wearing black, loaded the bases in the top half on 3 singles. This was a first for me. The pitcher actually threw strikes and the hitters actually hit the ball. And the kid playing SS wasn't bad either, as he turned an impressive unassisted double play to end the inning, catching a hard line drive and touching 2nd to keep the game scoreless. Not bad. The bottom half of the inning was just as impressive as the Pumas pitcher threw nothing but strikes, and the Colts went 3 up and 3 down, even though they put the ball in play all 3 outs. Wow, I thought to myself, finally a well played game. 
I was wrong. The same kid who threw nothing but strikes in the top of the first, couldn't get anything over the plate in the top of the second.
I know I haven't played organized ball in awhile, and I'm sure Little League has changed a little since I played it, but the last time I checked, there's a reason why the guy who sits behind the plate and wears all that gear is called a "Catcher". He is supposed to "catch" the ball. Well, someone forgot to explain that to the kid who caught for the Colts. I was waiting for this day to come and thank goodness the balls are a little softer than the real things. I still have a little bruise on my right forearm, also a little swollen, and I have a bruise on my right hip. I also took a foul tip off  the face mask, which didn't hurt a bit actually, but knocked the mask right off. This kid who they had the nerve to put behind the plate, not only couldn't catch anything, and I mean anything, he also stood up out of his crouch on almost every single pitch just before the ball crossed the plate. I have to tell you, that makes it very difficult for an umpire to see balls and strikes. I wanted to ask the coach if they had anyone else they could put back there, but that would I have been wrong I think. I was real close to just asking if I could borrow a glove and catch and umpire at the same time. That would have been a lot easier, and probably fun too.

You Stink Blue...Championship Saturday

Forget about the Final Four, this was the real Championship Saturday. The Division A championship was at 8 am, followed by the Division B championship at 10 am, both on the Great Lawn, then the winners square off for the Little League Championship at 2 pm at the North Meadow. And yours truly was working all three. But this time, I had help. Games this big required 2 umpires…real official stuff. Hey the kids were impressed. You should be too.

I get to the field around 7:30 and both teams are already warming up. Yup, they meant business alright. The Stallions and the Panthers would square off for the Division A Championship. I recognized the Panthers, wearing the blue shirts, as I had worked them before, but the Stallions looked new. I was behind the plate for this game, basically because I arrived at the field before Ty, my partner, and I already had the gear on. After the usual pregame meeting with the coaches, it was time to play ball.

Have you ever seen the pitcher go up to the umpire and shake his hand BEFORE the game starts? Well, it happened to me this game. Nice kid, the coach’s son I think. Just before we got underway, one of the Panthers on the bench says, “Did we bring the steroids?” Thanks MLB.  Anyway, the blue shirts struck first in an action packed 1^st inning. After retiring the Stallions in order in the top half, they loaded the bases in the bottom half. A sac fly later and it was 1-0. Then a little action. With runners on 1^st and 2^nd and 1 out, the batter hits a ball back to the pitcher. The throw goes to 1^st base, but a little wide and the 1^st baseman drops the ball trying to stretch. The runner from 2^nd comes around 3^rd and tries to score, but a great throw and an even better tag gets him at the plate. But the highlight of the play had to be my out call. Now, a quick side note: In the beginning of the season, we were told not to be too dramatic with our strike out and out calls to the Little Leaguers because it “made them feel bad.” Well, maybe it was the fact that it was a championship game, but I got caught up in the excitement and gave an out call that Eric Gregg would have been proud of. The second baseman ended the inning with a spectacular diving catch up the middle, and it was 1-0 at the end of 1.

The Panthers exploded in the 2^nd, scoring 4 runs. Here’s what happened: A bunch of kids got hits, causing a bunch of other kids to score. I ruled a foul tip which might not have been. I thought I heard a tip, but it could have just been the ball hitting the catcher’s glove, which he dropped. Lesson learned: See the tip, don’t hear it. 5-0 Panthers. The home team brought in a new pitcher in the top of the 4^th and he threw pretty hard. Not only that, but on a come backer to him to end the inning, he showed the runner the ball before flipping to 1^st. It was classic. In the next inning, I ruled catcher’s interference which I didn’t want to, but the catcher, a really small kid, reached for the ball and the swinging bat hit it, knocking the glove off. I had no choice. The catcher didn’t understand what he did wrong and started to cry. I wanted to give him the “There’s no crying in baseball speech”, but I decided to just explain what he did wrong. For the rest of the inning, he complained about every single pitch, whining in a voice even his mother would find annoying. The final was 9-3 Panthers; they were headed to the Championship game in the afternoon. Good for them.

Time to work the bases for the Division B Championship between the Bears and the Colts. The shortstop put on a defensive clinic for the 1^st 2 innings, recording 3 assists, and wouldn’t you know it…we had ourselves a pitchers duel. Do you believe that? A pitchers duel in Little League baseball. The Colts broke a scoreless tie in the bottom of the 3^rd (I don’t remember how they scored), and then gave up a run in the top of the 4^th on a throwing error to the catcher. With the bases loaded, the next batter hits one back to the pitcher, who decides to run home and get the force out himself. As he walks back to the mound, he says out loud, “I’m not taking a chance by throwing it, I’ll do it myself.” In the bottom half of the 4^th, my boss Hector shows up…with my paycheck for the season. As Borat says…Niiice! The bullpen for the Bears fell apart in the bottom of the 5^th, walking in 3 runs, and the Colts won 4-1. I’m sure more went on in the game, but I didn’t write any notes about it, and it’s been too long for me to remember. Oh, but I did get a cookie from one of the mom’s after the game. I think it was oatmeal.

So the stage was set: The Colts and the Panthers for all the marbles on the North Meadow. My buddy Bill came to watch me work, but when I told him I wasn’t working behind the plate, he left. Loser. I must have known something though, because after this game, I’m glad I didn’t put the gear on. And Bill may have missed the single greatest Little League game ever. Ever. I’ll try and be brief with this, cause there’s just too much to write about and I know all of our time is precious. Perhaps if there ever is a book version, you’ll get the full story. But for now, you’ll have to settle for the Cliffs Notes version.

With some kind of Puerto Rican music festival going on across the street, the Colts and Panthers played in front of a large crowd on field #2 just off 96^th street. The parents were lined up down both foul lines. I had really never seen such a crowd. It was kind of exciting. They all came out for this one, including the mother who talked on her cell phone for 3 innings (way to pay attention mom), and the Asian mother, wearing the triangle rice hat and the long leopard print, velvet pants. Not to mention my boss, her boss, and maybe a couple scouts, I’m not sure. It was the place to be.

Both teams scored 2 runs in the 1^st inning, and then they go scoreless for the next 6 innings. Controversy reared its ugly head in the top of the 5^th. A runner is on with 2 outs. The batter swings and hits what appears to me to be a foul ball, as the ball hits the fence of the 1^st base dugout. Apparently, the ball hit the kid in the hands, not the bat. The umpire working the plate (a different guy than the 1^st 2 games), rules a hit by pitch. Coaches argue, and we conference. Now, my first instinct was to call the kid out, cause I thought the swing occurred before the kid got hit. The umpire said he wasn’t sure which occurred first, so we go with my call, strike 3, batter out. The other coaches go nuts and we conference again. I say that I’m not completely sure, so we call it a foul ball and the kid gets out on the next pitch. I later find out that I was right in the first place, once a batter swings, he must make contact with the ball, otherwise it is a swing and a miss. If he checks his swing and gets hit on the hands, it’s a HBP.

Ok, here comes the abridged version of what happened next. In the top of the 8^th, the first extra inning, the Colts score 2 on a double over the left fielder’s head. Game over, I’m thinking. The Panthers score 2 in the bottom of the inning and we go to the 9^th. No score in the top of the 9^th, the Panthers strand a runner at 3^rd in the bottom, and we go to the 10^th. Both teams don’t score, so we go to the 11^th. The Colts appear to end it again in the top of the inning on a double over the centerfielder’s head, scoring a runner from 2^nd. They strand 2, and dadgummit, the Panthers score one of their own in the bottom half, but not without a little controversy. Runners are on 1^st and 3^rd with 2 outs when the batter hits a ground ball to short. He throws the ball over the first baseman’s head and hits the fence behind the dugout. The tying runs scores, but the runner from 1^st tries to come all the way around to score. But the ground rules are that if the ball hits the fence on an overthrow, the ball is dead, and the runners get 2 bases. So I make the winning run go back to 3^rd, much to the chagrin of the Panthers coaches. The argument was so intense, my boss had to get involved and tell the coach to simmer down. I was calm the whole time, explaining that the ground rule was discussed prior to the start of the game, and that was it. Plus, why end a game like this on an overthrow?

We go scoreless in the 12^th; we’ve now played 2 full games. I tell the 1^st base coach of the Panthers that I need a beer. He tells me he needs a whole case. The game started at 2 pm. It’s now almost 6 pm. One of the mothers, mine I think, says, “How much longer are they going to play for? I’ve got tickets to a show in 2 hours.” In the bottom of the 13^th, the Panthers had a runner on 2^nd with 2 outs. The hitter was a small kid who I don’t think came close to making contact all season. He was one of those kids that looked like he was swinging in slow motion. So of course, he hits a long fly ball that looks like it’s going over the left fielder’s head, but the LF makes a great running catch. Yep, that’s why they play the games. After the Colts fail to score in the 14^th…yes that’s right…the 14^th inning…in Little League, both coaches decide that the bottom half of the inning will be the last, whether or not the Panthers score. They don’t, my legs are exhausted, and there are Co-Champs. Two winners, no losers, 14 innings, a little over 4 hours, and possibly the greatest Little League game ever.

And the best part was after the game, one of the kids from the Panthers gave me a Capri Sun fruit drink, a package of Oreo cookies, and told me I was the best umpire they had all year.  What a way to end my first summer as a Little League umpire. I can’t wait till next year.

UFR...The Baseball Chronicles: The Last Dance?

So football season is officially over. What are we going to do now? Easy. Time to get ready for another baseball season, and perhaps another title run for a certain team that plays south of NYC and north of Maryland? But we can't start a new season until we finish the previous one. And with spring camps set to open in a few days, I saved the final UFR for this week. Honest, I planned it this way all along. (Got to tip my hat to the UFR Marketing and Research team for that one.) Plus, those of us in the northeast need something to remind us what warm weather is like. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J05GItzHKvQ)

On a personal note, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken the time to read these over the last 6 months. OK, 10 months. Wow, I really know how to stretch out a good thing, huh? I've enjoyed receiving comments from many of you and welcome others to do so. Let me know what you think. Entertaining or a waste of time? Who am I kidding? In the age of facebook and twitter, is anything a waste of time anymore? Oh, and while I'm waiting for that book deal or Disney to buy the movie rights to all this, I'm available if anyone is looking for a private baseball instructor. (See, more marketing.)

Week 10, June 12, Playoffs round 2, vs Tigers, Central Park

In addition to winning, as a coach you want to see improvement in your team. Especially with kids at this age, getting better is more important than getting victories. All we can ask of our players is that they listen, work hard, and show a passion and respect for the game. But of course, nobody wants to lose. That's no fun. And baseball is supposed to be fun. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeiYnVScg7w)

Another picture perfect day in Central Park and we were all a little jumpy for the tilt. Especially the coach from the Tigers. While Jeff and I were looking great in our full uniforms, this guy was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt and a team hat. Even an hour before the game started, he started asking us to flip a coin to see who was home and visitor. He wouldn't stop talking either. We kept telling him, we'll wait for the umpire to do it. A few minutes later, he kept going.

"I have to prepare my team. Let's do it now", he said.

"The ump has to do it, coach. Let's just wait for him. Keep it official," Jeff replied.

"I don't want to wait. I have to prepare my team. You guys want to be home?"

"Uh, yeah, if you're giving it to us, sure."

We were more than happy to be the home team. Hey, anything else you want to give us? How about the win? Fine by me! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veTVnroZ7OQ) We'll take any advantage we could get. Afterall, it's the playoffs. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYeRDCWU1HA) And not only do the playoffs bring face painting, added excitement and pressure, but apparently, they bring the cameras too. After winning his age group in MLB's Pitch Hit and Run contest, the Association wanted to do a feature on Ned for their website. So a camera man was there to shoot the game and get some sound bites. Pretty cool for Ned by the way. He won a couple of local competitions, then was invited to be recognized at Yankees Stadium, representing all 12 year olds. I wish I can take credit for it, but the kid is really talented, which clearly means I had nothing to do with it. He's a good egg.

Overall, the boys probably played their best game of the season. We trailed the whole game, but never more than a couple runs. Everytime the Tigers would score, we'd fight back and score. Once again, we had chances to really take control of the game, but just couldn't get that timely hit. It killed us all year. The guys got out of some potential big innings with great pitching and defense. We were hanging around and felt we would break through. After getting out of a bases loaded jam in the top of the 6th, we had the momentum in the bottom half. Down 4-3, we ended up loading the bases ourselves and had Fred coming up. Fred had some big hits this year, but I knew he was nervous as he walked up to the plate. He had told me once earlier in the season that he was nervous in a similar situation. I thought about calling time out and talking to him quickly, to settle him down. Maybe, I thought, I'd tell him if he got a hit, I'd be his friend on Facebook, since he had been bugging me so much at the high school game the previous week. He was a little like this guy. (

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP9gSfXgir0&feature=related) But then I figured, why put more pressure on the kid. I mean, getting a hit in that situation is tough enough, but the prospect of becoming my friend might be too much for anyone to handle. So I decided to sit back and see if he could get through it on his own. I should have called time out. He struck out swinging on 3 pitches. Again, we're all learning here, including me. Damn.

Tough way for the season to end. But they all must end, and only one team can win it all. Meeting as a team in shallow left field, we told the boys how proud we were of them for battling hard all year, especially today. Nobody likes losing, but in a transition year like this one, there’s no need to focus on the scoreboard. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEUSyVjQH6g) I told them that their level of play dramatically increased from the beginning of the season to the end and they should hold their heads up high.

Jeff and I were presented team photos signed by the entire team (and a nice unexpected monetary tip from the parents). Jack’s father, our scorekeeper, offered some nice words on our behalf. It meant a lot that our efforts were so appreciated by the parents. I certainly felt a level of responsibility coaching these boys. When you’re paying close to $750 for your son to play on the team and the coach is receiving a paycheck from the Association (albeit a very small one), you feel as if you’re working for the parents. And in a sense, you are. They trust you with the development of their child as a ballplayer for one, but also that you will be some sort of a role model for them. I take great pride in carrying that trust and responsibility. And as I told the parents, in all my years involved in youth baseball, as a player, umpire, and now coach, (just past 30 years) I’ve never seen as much support from the parents as I had from this group.  It made me even more appreciative (if that is possible) of my own parents, who made sure I made every practice, and attended every single game when I was a kid. That’s what made my first season of coaching all worthwhile. It was one of the greatest decisions I’ve ever made.

Final record: 5-10-5. One playoff win.

Go Phillies!

UFR...The Baseball Chronicles: The Ghost of Earl Weaver

With the cold weather now here and another snow storm about to hit the northeast, I figured it was a perfect time to go back to a warmer time, a simpler time. (cue sappy music) The longest baseball season ever moves on, and being that I never like to see anything go unfinished, here we go. And Happy New Year!

Week 9, June 6th, 1st round of Playoffs vs Rye Brook, Randall's Island

Before I started coaching, I made a vow to myself. Being an umpire, and having over 10 years experience working with NFL officials and being an Instant Replay Official myself, I told myself I would never argue with an umpire over a judgement call or balls and strikes. Well, I tried. I really did. But if you've been reading these, you know that vow was broken very early in the season. The very first game actually. I've had many an argument with the umpires in my rookie season, but it all came to a head in the playoffs. 

For some reason, we played 2 games in the 1st round of the playoffs, against the same team, and advanced if we only won one of them. Made no sense to Jeff and I. But neither did this statement from our favorite umpire, Snuffalufagus: "There's nothing foul about a foul tip." That left us scratching our heads.

The kids from Rye were real small. Like Tanner from the Bad News Bears small. But we knew we couldn't take them lightly, even if in my head I thought we should have no problem. The boys played real well in Game 1. Ned was dominant on the mound, as usual. The defense made plays, even Fred threw out a couple runners from behind the plate. After Ned tired in the 4th, walking 4 straight, we brought Albert in to slam the door, which he did. A convincing win and we advanced to the 2nd round. 

The June heat was stifling. Fortunately, Rod's dad brought a huge tarp that we covered the dugout with. Still hot as heck, but much more bearable in the shade. Jeff and I felt like putting our feet up and cracking open a beer. But that would have been wrong. Game 2 was more of a formality, but we played to win all the same. We gave the pill to Brad, hoping he'd duplicate his performance from the tournament. He didn't. He didn't have the same swagger, no Lebowski-esque "Don't mess with the Jesus." I even said that to him between innings, which made him laugh. We ended up losing the game, but that wasn't the part worth mentioning. That darn umpire.

Earlier in the game, I questioned a call at the plate in which Albert got called out. Trust me, he wasn't out. But that just set the stage for what happened in the last inning. Instead of blaming the umpire for the following, I'm going to blame the excessive heat. And the umpire.

Rye had runners on 1st and 3rd with 2 outs. Jeff and I put the play on that has worked almost every time we've called it. Albert took the throw from Fred and we got the guy from 3rd in a rundown. Albert chased down the runner with his speed but the umpire ruled that he missed the tag. ("He missed the tag! He missed the tag!") Since this happened right in front of me, and we had already advanced in the playoffs, I figured I should let the umpire know of my displeasure. So without moving off the bench, the following conversation took place.

Me: “Hey Blue, next time get in position before you blow the call. Every game you’ve worked for us you blow at least one call. That was your second one this game.”

Blue (Walking towards dugout.): “Listen, I said he missed him.”

Me (still sitting): “I know what you called. I didn’t say I couldn’t hear you. I said you were wrong and out of position. Get out from behind the plate. Every week with you.

Blue: If you don’t like the way I work a game, call my supervisor and ask him not to put me on your games anymore.

Me: OK. I will. I’ll do that. Thanks.

Now at this point, the argument should have ended. Being an umpire myself, I know that you never want to extend an argument by provoking the coach. And when he’s done, the argument is done. Unless, you really want to toss the coach.

Blue: I know you guys are a little frustrated. And when you are losing, you have more to complain about.

Jeff lost it on this and jumped up from the bench.

Jeff: Oh wait a second! That’s ridiculous!

Me: That’s a cop out. I don’t complain unless there’s reason to. Don’t say that to me. You missed the call. That’s why I complained.

Amazingly, neither of us was tossed, but I think he wanted to do it. Jeff looked at me and said, "I can't believe he didn't run you for that." But we had a good laugh anyway. Hey, it's Little League. It's supposed to be fun, right? It was. And it turned out that, after looking at the rules, old Snuffy was correct about that foul tip line. Go figure. Always trust the ump. And I might add, that when a coach argues with me while I'm umpiring, I still enjoy getting into it with them. It's part of the game. I say, as long you don't say nothing about my mama, bring it on. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUGE2teGwaI)

As a treat, Jeff and I took 4 of the boys to the New York City High School Championship game at Cyclone Park, in Coney Island, where the Cyclones play. We picked up Ned, Rod, Geoff, and Fred in the city and the 6 of us drove out there. We took the boys for some dogs and famous french fries as well. It was the first time I had been to the stadium, right on the boardwalk, next to the famous Nathan's hot dog stand. We had a great time at the game, a thriller that went extra innings. Fred found out during the game that I was on facebook and wanted to friend me. He kept bugging me about it. Jeff had given me some advice about there being a fine line between being a coach and a friend and it was important to maintain the authority figure persona. "You can be friends with your players," he said. "But never so much that they forget you're the coach. Otherwise, you'll lose respect on the field." Sound advice. I've had some great relationships with coaches in my past, but I always remembered that they're my coach first.

Hanging out with the kids was great. While coaching, Jeff and I treat the boys like they are older than they are. That sometimes gets us into trouble, as we forget they are only 12 years old. But an outing like this allowed us to remember they are just kids. It was refreshing to see their youthfulness and innocence. And it probably will help me as a coach down the road. But I have to say, spending 7 hours with four 12 year olds is not as easy as it sounds, (or maybe it’s as difficult as it sounds) even when you feel only slightly older than them yourself. They are a lot to take. Especially when Fred kept farting in the back seat and Ned was talking absolute jibberish and slurring his words from all the Mountain Dews he had at the game. Jeff and I thought he was on drugs. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mo0baknLDdU) He also reminded me of this kid. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txqiwrbYGrs&feature=related) (Really??!!! 77 million hits??!!! C'mon, it's amusing, but not that funny. You'd think people had more to do in their lives than look at youtube clips. Wait a minute....) They both couldn’t stop laughing for a good 20 minutes. Meanwhile, Rod was fast asleep and Geoff, the quiet, innocent one, looked like he was watching a horror movie as he sat between them both. As much as I enjoyed my time with them away from the field, I was happy to get out of the car.

Next episode: The Last Dance?

UFR...The Baseball Chronicles: Thunder Road

Just because the Phillies aren't playing anymore, doesn't mean the baseball season has to end. What's that? The World Series is going on right now? Well, those of you who have Cablevision and can't watch might as well continue with your favorite youth team.

Week 8, Memorial Day Tourney, North Branford, CT.

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-p5LecBXZqQ&feature=related)

One of the highlights of any Travel team’s season is playing tournaments. In the past, this team has traveled to as close as Delaware and as far as Florida to play. It’s a great way to expose the kids to even better competition from all over the country and to let them experience high level playing situations. This year’s choice was in North Branford, CT, only a couple hours away from NYC. We were guaranteed to play 3 games: 2 in pool play and then at least one playoff game. It was high stakes and I was fired up.

I played in one Little League tournament when I was 12 years old. I was on the All-Star team, which is basically what this travel team is. (We didn’t have travel teams in Jacksonville. Add that to the list of things Jacksonville didn’t have.) However, it was the first tournament in the official Little League World Series tournament. And had we not been eliminated, I may have been pitching in Williamsport.

Not to toot my own horn, I was pretty good at 12 years old. I had the nastiest curveball. I don’t know how I learned to throw it, nobody taught it to me. It was unhittable. Seriously. I once struck out 8 of the 9 batters I faced. Not joking. I threw the curve every single time I had 2 strikes on a hitter. They knew it was coming, and still couldn’t touch it. But in hindsight, I wish I never threw it. I blew my elbow out, ending my pitching career the following season when I moved to the big boys field. My arm strength didn’t develop like it should have. It’s too bad too. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0waNRaz6wU) It’s why I won’t let any of my 12 year olds throw one. It’s unnecessary and too damaging. They are a couple years away. The body does its most growing between years 12-15. I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen a lot on TV. Unfortunately, parents and coaches are blinded by their hunger for success for their kids and players. There’s a reason why you never see kids who pitch in the LLWS end up pitching in Yankee Stadium. It’s not rocket science. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8u7aUbRyMX0)

Our first game wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon, so Jeff and I drove up together early in the morning. It gave him a chance to brief me on what to expect and to discuss strategy. There were also some unusual rules, which I learned were really not that unusual in tournament play. Among them, pitchers could only throw 7 innings the entire tournament. (When I pitched we could not pitch more than 3 innings a game. Who knows how many more Ks I would have had in that 8 of 9 performance had I been allowed to pitch more.) In the event of a game ending in a tie, a runner would start the next inning on 2^nd Base.  If the score was still tied after the 1^st extra inning, a runner would start the next inning on 3^rd Base.  

The complex in Branford was a typical Little League one, consisting of 5 fields. They were all dirt infields, with fences surrounding the outfields. The dugouts were covered and above ground. A couple of fields had designated bullpen areas. Most of the teams were from the northeast area. There were a couple tents set up for vendors of gloves and bats and other pieces of equipment. One guy was able to break in gloves in as little as 10 minutes, without the use of oil. He’d take the glove, disappear into a tent, and come out with a completely broken in glove. It was amazing, but personally, I always enjoyed the process of breaking in a new glove. It contributed to the connection a player should have with his glove. You bring it home from the store, spend a few minutes rubbing oil into the leather, then stick a ball in the pocket and tie the glove up with a rubber band. And that first night, you’d sleep with the glove tucked tightly under your mattress. All night you’d dream about all the great moments you’d share with it. You’d wake up with the youthful exuberance like 8 year old, no, 9 year old Vinny on Christmas morning, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9t2R9m7jqE) finding your glove in perfect condition. You couldn’t wait to go outside to play catch.  Ironically, I was 12 years old the last time I broke in a glove like that. And not surprisingly, I have not used another glove since.

As we waited for our first game to start, my adrenaline was racing. It was important for us to get that first win under our belt. And it was even more important to get on the board first. So it was a good thing we lost the coin toss and were the visiting team. The boys seemed loose, but who knew what they were really thinking. I was more of a rookie than most of them anyway. Most of them had played in tournaments before.

Things got off to a great start as we scored 2 in the first, but left the bases loaded…again. But with Larry on the hill, Jeff and I still felt pretty good.

I got the first two outs in my All-Star tournament debut. The curve was working, like usual. I didn’t throw hard, but I was crafty like Greg Maddux. Hit your spots, I told myself. Get ahead in the count, then drop the hammer on them.

After putting a couple runners on, one of the biggest 12/13 year olds I’d ever seen came to the plate. Keep it low, just keep it low Larry, I said to myself.

Up walked the biggest 12/13 year old I had ever seen. Keep it low and try to hit the corners, I said. I started him off with a curve ball, uncharacteristic for me, but successful in this case. Most kids are taught to take the first pitch, especially a curveball. I told you I was crafty.

As the kid walked to the plate, Larry looked at us with a “what the heck do I do with this guy?” look. Jeff does a great job of calling pitches. And he was right on the money in guessing that the kid was juiced up and looking fastball. We started him off with a changeup and the kid swung out of his shoes. My heart skipped a beat with that swing.

I kept him guessing on the next pitch, throwing a Jamie Moyer-esque “fastball” up in the zone. The breeze from the kid’s swing almost knocked me down, but luckily he swung right thru it. Whew, that was close. Don’t throw that again. Awesome though, I’m up 0-2.

A little confidence came back to Larry’s face. I didn’t even have to say it to Jeff. He already knew. Throw it again. This time though, Larry got it a little up and the kid hit a long fly ball…just foul. Whew, that was close. But we’re up 0-2.

Time to waste one in the dirt, maybe he’ll bite. No bite. Striking this cocky kid out would be huge. I can’t let him get the better of me.

Striking this kid out would be huge. Not only would it get us out of the inning, it would also give the boys a ton of confidence. Jeff calls for a fastball up. Way up, out of the zone. Maybe he’ll chase one. Good call. No chase.

I can’t throw the fastball again. If I miss, he’ll crush it. Go with the bread and butter, and let it roll off the table. Sit this kid down. Shock the world.

C’mon, sit this kid down, right here, I said only loud enough for Jeff to hear. He was with me, as usual. He calls for the changeup again, below the knees, almost in the dirt. Let the bottom drop out of it.

As soon as I let it go, I wanted to take it back. It was rare, but sometimes, my curve didn’t break. And when a curve doesn’t break, it might as well be placed on a tee. This was one of the those rare times. It happened in slow motion.

Piiiing!!!!! Balls aren’t supposed to travel that far. Not from a 12 or 13 year old. And high. Maybe too high.

I didn’t want to turn my head. I knew. But I couldn’t resist. I took a peak. I shouldn’t have looked…

Just like that we lost our lead, and although we battled back a couple times, and overall fought hard, we never had the lead again.

After a team lunch at a nearby pizza place, we came back to the complex for Game 2, under the lights. Although I use the word “lights” in its loosest sense. Up the middle was dark like a cave. The ball was almost invisible. We sent Brad to the hill and he pitched his ass off. He also developed an unusual cocky swagger that we had never seen from the usually reserved Latino. After a strikeout to end the 3^rd inning, he came running off the field saying, “Don’t mess with the Jesus!!” He did again after the 4^th and then again after the 5^th. It was as if he was possessed. At first, I thought he was just channeling his religious upbringing. But then it hit me. He was quoting Lebowski!! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onzGJXTBt1A&feature=related) It was awesome to see.

Unfortunately, much like the Phillies this year, we couldn’t score. Our defense was garbage too. Albert committed a 2-out error in the 2^ndinning that let a run score. Then 2 more crossed. We should have been out of that inning tied at 0-0. We lost the game 6-1. The lack of offense was especially frustrating because we were using aluminum bats. Jeff and I thought that the switch from wood to aluminum would surely be an advantage for us. Not so.

After we took Brad out, he sat at the end of dugout and his eyes began to water up. I went over to him and patted him on the back. “Hey buddy. You pitched awesome. You’ve got nothing to feel bad about.” I loved seeing the emotion from him. Then Jeff sat down next to him, put his arm around him and told him the same thing. I really felt for the kid. He pitched so well and got zero run support. But hey, that’s baseball.

Going 0-2 on Day one was not what we had planned. But we had at least one more game the next day and still had a chance to advance in the playoff round. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40mhBE5MpbA&feature=related) All we needed was a good night’s rest and we’d come out like tigers in the morning.

Jeff had told me stories of tournaments past and the shenanigans that took place between him and some of the fathers in the hotel. I like shenanigans. I was looking forward to the night. (Side note: Is that not the greatest name for a bar you’ve ever heard?! I’m serious. I claim copyright to it right now. The attorneys on this distribution list can act as witnesses to this. That’s how it works, right? I took a media law class in college and we covered copyright laws. I could be wrong though. My memory of college is as foggy as an LA morning. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYx7YG0RsFY&ob=av2e) Go Gators!

At the hotel Jeff and I joined a few of the dads in the bar, which was pretty dead. But they did have karaoke. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlKhfEWchf8&feature=related) Trouble. After a couple beers, a few scotches, and an electric sing-a-long version of Centerfield by Jeff and Mike, it was my turn. Mike, who had earlier slipped on the steps in the bar but impressively did not spill his drink, was now reminding me of Bill Murray’s lounge singer act on Saturday Night Live. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXAE5hsb-2M&feature=related)  He came up to me and said, “We’re singing something Bri, so either you pick it or I will.” Without hesitation and knowing that he was also a Springsteen fan, I said, “Thunder Road.” We weren’t as good as Dong, but slightly better than Nick.

Our high hopes that we went to bed with for the following day turned into a nightmare when we took the field when the sun came up. We came out flat on both sides of the ball. Ned couldn’t find the strike zone and nobody could get a hit. Frustrating to say the least, especially to go 0-3 in the tourney. Maybe it had something to do with half the team swimming in the hotel pool until close to midnight. (Or the coaches having a few adult beverages?? Nah, we're adults, we can handle it.) I guess as coaches we should have set a curfew, but they are just kids afterall, and why shouldn’t they have some fun. And we figured after the two tough losses, a little fun may do them some good and keep them loose. Not the case, I guess. Although I think they had fun swimming. And the coaches also had fun hanging with the dads. 

So from a winning standpoint, the tournament was a huge disappointment. But it’s more about the experience than it is about winning, right? And as long as we're having fun, who cares about winning and losing. Right? Right? Anyone? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4zyjLyBp64&feature=related)

Next episode: The Ghost of Earl Weaver

UFR...The Baseball Chronicles: Chicken Bones?

Now that we are in the middle of the baseball postseason (Go Phillies!), what better way to get in the spirit than to check back in with your favorite NYC youth baseball team. Even though the season ended months ago, I've been saving the rest of these for this time of year. You thought the season was over, didn't you? Or maybe you thought I just forgot about sending these out. Or maybe you were hoping I had forgotten about them. Or maybe you never noticed I sent anything in the first place. Or maybe there has been a deep, dark, empty whole in your lives for the past 3 months without them. It's ok, we know. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HGS7p4gSqg) 

And away we go...

Week 7, May 22: Non-league game vs Spartans; May 23: Diamond Buddies

As I've mentioned before, our home field on Randall's Island is truly picturesque. With the warehouse off the water in right field, the NY Post building in the distance beyond left field, and the tug boats pushing the freighters back and forth the East River, it's quite breathtaking. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DoARSlv-HU). But for some reason, every now and then when we show up first thing in the morning on a Saturday or Sunday, there is trash everywhere. It's as if the fields become landfills in the middle of the night. I have no idea what goes on. Do the clowns from Cirque Du Soleil throw insane parties and just trash the place? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRNmSPoTDBA) And it's not only the trash, but occasionally I've noticed chicken bones lying on the infield. Chicken bones?! Do the fields turn into a farm when the sun goes down? Are religious groups holding seances? Or are there after-hours picnics taking place and buckets of fried chicken are being consumed? Whatever it is, it's strange. 

On Saturday, we scheduled a non-league game against the Spartans, another local organization. The good news is we didn't lose. The bad news is we didn't win either. The boys played well, but striking out 11 times will not result in too many wins. The game ended in a 1-1 tie, with Brad pitching lights out, striking out 10 in only 5 innings. But we had plenty of opportunities to score runs. These boys will only get better, but right now it seems they are not handling the pressure of batting with runners in scoring position. It'll come. We've all been there. I remember when I was 14 or 15, I was up with the bases loaded and the winning run on 3rd base. My brother and a high school teammate of his were in the stands watching. I definitely was nervous being in that situation. Between the winning run being on 3rd and my brother being there, my heart was racing. The little brothers out there know what I'm talking about. For some reason, I was unable to take the bat off my shoulders and watched 3 perfect fastballs go right by me and struck out looking. As Yogi said, "hitting is 90% mental and 50% physical." I know how these kids must feel. As coaches, we must figure out a way to ease their nerves when they are in these situations. Hey, much like Joshua and Julius, I'm learning too. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeOHEU7Ykyg&feature=related) (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MszWzD4otec)

Trying to build on the strong pitching and defensive effort on Saturday, Sunday's regular season finale double header against the Diamond Buddies was a great chance to pick up a couple of much needed wins to close out the regular season. In game 1, Ned once again threw incredibly well, striking out 10 and not giving up a hit until the 4th inning. Finally a couple of timely hits early in the game gave Ned a 2-0 lead. Our favorite (not really) umpire took a 3rd run away from us when he called Albert out at home. From my position down the 1st base line, Albert clearly slid under the catcher's tag on his shoulder. The ump, who reminds me of Snuffy from Sesame Street and every time he moves I hear his music in my head, once again, did not get out from behind the plate. He said that Albert never touched the plate, when clearly that was not the case. As I walked off the field, I said to the ump, "Next time just tell me you missed the call instead of saying something that clearly isn't true."

In the 4th, Jay and Larry led off with back to back singles. Then a rarity in baseball happened, especially at the youth level. On a fly ball to right field, for some reason, both Jay and Larry took off as if there were 2 outs. My yells of "GET BACK!!" were not heard and the right fielder threw to second base for out number 2 and then the shortstop threw to first for the third out. A triple play!! As the center fielder came running off the field, he said, "Wait, what just happened." I have to admit though, seeing the triple play was cool, even though it happened to us. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2RiI9v3io4&feature=related)

It appeared we had the game in our hands but Ned started to tire in the 5th, walking in a run. With 2 outs and the bases loaded, but still up 2-1, Ned forced a little dribbler back to him. Great, we're out of it. But Ned didn't field it cleanly and then in a hurry, threw high to first and the run scored. He got the next guy out, but we couldn't recover from that, and the game ended in a 2-2 tie. Another freakin tie! The boys were frustrated. We were playing so much better, which was a good thing, but not getting wins when you have the chance hurts. Jeff and I had no answers and all we told the boys was they were right there and just had to keep battling like they were. Good things would eventually happen. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeVca9MwDX8)

In Game 2, the bats finally came alive...a little. As a coach, it's rewarding to see improvement in your team from one game to the next. Although we've been inconsistent, we've clearly done some things better as the season has gone on. It's great to see the kids respond to what we tell them from one game to the next. It means they're listening, and trying to say the least. And that's really all we as coaches can ever ask of them. Larry pitched outstanding, working out of a couple jams in the 1st and the 2nd inning. As he came off the field after the 2nd inning, he says to me, "I've decided I'm just going to try to get them to hit the ball." I congratulated him on cracking the secret code to pitching: Throw strikes and trust your defense. OK, maybe it's a little more complicated than that. But at this level, that's basically it.

Among the offensive highlights was a triple by Brad over the right fielder's head which rolled to the fence, Fred's bomb in the left center field gap, and a couple of perfectly executed squeeze plays. Jeff and I love the squeeze play, if at the very least, out of necessity. When you are inconsistent at the plate like we are, especially with runners in scoring position, you have to manufacture runs and play a little small ball as they call it. Sometimes, however, we like it a little too much. When you go to the well often, sometimes the bucket comes up dry.

In the 4th, with the game tied at 2, Brad is on 3rd after his triple. Larry lays down a perfect bunt that goes past the pitcher and is fielded by the 2nd baseman. There's no chance of getting Brad at the plate, but the second baseman still threw home. Upon seeing this, for some reason, Larry stopped running to first base halfway down the line. My amazement and cries of, "Keep running!" startled Larry, or woke him up from his trance, and he just reached safely. I walked over to Larry, patted him on the back and said, "Great bunt buddy. Sorry for yelling there, but you almost gave me a heart attack when you stopped halfway down the line. Never stop running." He smiled as if to say, "Just messing with you Coach." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfLUya64ovc) Crazy kids.

Now, as I mentioned above, sometimes playing small ball and being aggressive can backfire. Such was the case in this game on multiple occasions.  We tried to hit and run with Jack on 1st. The other team pitched out and nailed him at 2nd. With Brad on 1st and no outs, Greg laid down a great bunt. Jeff tried to catch the defense sleeping and waved Brad to 3rd. They weren't sleeping and Brad was thrown out easily. We tried to suicide squeeze one again with Sam at the plate and Fred on 3rd with 1 out. Sam, one of our best contact hitters and has great bat control, missed the bunt attempt and left Fred out to dry. Believe me, when your decisions don't work out, you feel awful. But as I told Jeff, I'd rather be aggressive and fail than be passive and fail. Hindsight is always 20/20 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE8jj2t23yI)

What would be a game without a little controversy with the umpires, right? In the 5th, after we just took the lead in the 4th on Larry's squeeze bunt, the Diamond Buddies got a runner on 2nd with no outs. We expected the bunt so we put the wheel play on, where the 3rd baseman charges and the shortstop covers third. Sure enough, the batter squares and the runner takes off for 3rd. The pitch is a ball, but Albert beats the runner to 3rd and the throw from Ned is right on the money. Of course, the umpire rules safe. Naturally, being behind the runner and out of position, he had a great angle on the play. Jeff lost it. He ran out of the dugout screaming and got into the face of the umpire. I thought he was getting tossed for sure, so I followed him, hoping to calm him down. Fortunately, as soon as he got to the umpire he caught himself and walked back to the dugout, still fuming. The next batter hit a ground ball to our 2nd baseman and the tying run scored. I looked at Jeff and said, "Well, since cirque de soleil is in town, looks like one of the clowns escaped from the circus.  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrtwWraQDn8). Jeff smiled. 

After complaining about the other pitcher balking multiple times, there was a close play at first in which the 1st baseman's foot came off the bag. Coaching 1st base, I had a bird's eye view of the play. The umpire hesitated, obviously because he saw the same thing as I did. But then he ruled out. So I had to say something to him. And then all of a sudden, one of the dads sitting behind me chirps (Get it? Bird's eye view? Chirps?), "Man, these guys complain about everything." Well, I snapped. Immediately, I turned around and said, "HEY, PIPE DOWN AND JUST WATCH THE GAME!" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8E_zMLCRNg) Now, in hindsight I let my emotions get the best of me and realized I should have been the one to pipe down. I'm not proud of doing that. A friend of mine who has coached for many years told me to never get into it with a parent from the other team. It can and often will get ugly. Only speak to the coach. Good advice. But fortunately in this case, it worked. Even the guy's friend told him to be quiet.

And finally, every now and then Jeff and I will receive coaching tips from some of the dads. Ned had been struggling at the plate and so Fred's father figured he'd tell us how to fix it. He says, "“I don’t know a lot about baseball, but I know what’s wrong with Ned’s swing.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgX7i0C-IK4&feature=related) 

Those darn clowns.

End of Regular Season. Record: 3-8-3. 7th Place finish in the division.

Next episode: Thunder Road.