The Marlins Home Run Sculpture

This Mother’s Day I am sitting at home watching the Mets-Marlins game. In the 7th inning John Buck hit a 2-run home run to tie the game at 2-2. And then this happened:

OH GOD. THAT THING WILL DESTROY US ALL.


It’s Opening Day, Opening Day

Ogden Nash, again

Line-up for Yesterday

I is for Me,
Not a hard-hitting man,
But an outstanding all-time
Incurable fan.

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Old Philosophers Would have Known Ryan Leaf was a Bust or Ryan Leaf and the Marshmallow Test

Ryan Leaf Midway Through the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment

What could be a better measure of a man’s virtue than his quarterbacking ability? A quarterback has to exercise several kinds of intelligence, lead in the face of well-trained and motivated opposition, and appease a widely varied group of people off of the field. By comparing Ryan Leaf and Peyton Manning, we see many of the ways that western philosophers have been right about the characteristics necessary to be good quarterbacks and, by extension, good humans.
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Tim Tebow, Lefty

Today’s New York Times has an article about what may be the last remaining new angle on Tim Tebow–his left-handedness.

The headline: Tim Tebow Gives Left-Handers Someone to Cheer.

I’m left-handed. I’m not the only DUFLer who is–Anthony T is definitely a lefty, and I’m not sure about Diana, but she acts like a lefty.

I won’t be cheering Tim Tebow, and the fact that he and I share a hand will not enter in to that decision. My dislike of Tebow stems from his outspoken opposition to abortion rights, his insensitive missionary work, and his general football shittiness. (I also sometimes mock his virginity.)

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There’s No Such Thing as a Pitching Prospect: The Story of Generation K

They were supposed to be stars, to save the Mets from the doldrums of the post-Strawberry-Gooden-years. Three pitching prospects all in Baseball America’s top 35 prospects. Paul Wilson, the first pick in the 1994 major league draft. Bill Pulsipher, in Triple AAA Norfolk by age 21. Jason Isringhausen, the man with the power fastball and killer curve. And they had a good nickname too: Generation K. 
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The Brawl in Hockeytown

In a comment on her last post, Diana said that the stereotype of hockey players as brawling goons still exists.

Unfortunately, this post will do nothing to dispel that notion.


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Dog Shows and the Illusion of Order

I spent two nights last week watching the Westminster Dog Show with several other contributors to this blog. There were a few conversations about how immoral and sometimes cruel dog-breeding can be and about all the other ways in which this spectacle might be offensive: You have to be a certain kind of rich to even partake. And it’s a kind of objectification that most of its viewers would find objectionable in any other context. The most analogous “sport” or contest I can think of has to be the child beauty pageant. But I won’t go into that or into the ethics of the breeding.

What I really want to write about is how this contest purports to sort and rank among the thousands of dogs that are escorted around that stage every year.

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Brooklyn Dodgers, 1955 World Series Parade

In honor of the opening of Spring Training:

Since the guy in picture doesn’t need to be identified, I’ll explain how I came into these photos.

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The silliness and sublimity of baseball

In 1986 a 21-year-old Cuban-American became the starting right fielder for the Oakland A’s.  Tall, brawny and with the ability to hit towering home runs that seemed as if they would touch the billowy clouds above the Oakland Coliseum, he became an overnight sensation. Finishing the season with 33 home runs and 117 runs batted in, he was voted the rookie of the year.

I mention Jose Canseco now because he is my first memory of baseball. It started an obsession (that word might actually understate my feelings), which has continued to this day. Read the rest of this entry »


A long and likely very disorganized post about my thoughts on Jeremy Lin and, tangentially, issues in America

As an Asian-American male living in New York City, it’s fair to say that I’ve followed the Jeremy Lin saga with more than a passing interest. I’ve watched three of his performances this past week, by happenstance on Monday night, and deliberately on Friday and Saturday. Let the record show that I’m hardly an NBA fan (“Ugh, it’s a superstar league, and the end of games are so boring, with all the free throws and whatnot!”), and I’m particularly NOT a fan of New York City-based sports franchises (“Fucking fuckedy fuck! Fuck the New York Giants/Rangers/Knicks/Yankees! Eh, the Mets get a pass, I guess. Go Islanders!”).

I’m sure that a kajillion articles and blog posts have been written about JLin, and I’ve only read a handful of them, but after some deliberation over the past week, I think my thoughts on the JLin story have coagulated into something bloggable.
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