When the New York Yankees signed Morgan Ensberg…
… to a contract, he was assigned uniform number 21, which he wore in Spring Training. Not since Paul O’Neill…
… left the team in 2002 had those digits been worn by a Yankee. That tradition will continue. Ensberg will where the number 11 made famous [infamous] in the late 1950’s by Hector [whose nickname was “What A Pair Of Hands”] Lopez.
Morgan wants to wear #14 but currently his teammate Wilson Benemit…
… dons Bill”Moose” Skowron’s…
… and Gene Woodling’s…
… old digits. Ensberg offered Benemit $5,000. “No deal,” said Wilson.
Stay tuned, sports fans, this drama is not over.
In 1951, the first year I can remember being a baseball fan, Harry S. Truman [a crafty lefty] threw out the first pitch in Washington. Casey Stengel [far right] seems bemused.
Tomorrow lame duck, schmuck George Bush will throw out the first pitch to Washington Manager Manny Acta. Traditionally the recepiant of thie ceremonial peg is the catcher. Not this year. National’s backstop John Lo Duca is up to his “tools of ignorance ” in the steroid scandle.
Well guess what, sports fans? The former owner of the Texas Rangers [George W Bush], along with every owner, executive, manager, coach, player, and trainer in Baseball are [if not directly involved] guilty of contributing to the cover-up.
It serves no purpose to further embarrass Lo Duca, who has already copped to his wrong doings.
I hope I live long enough to here the fascist pig W cop to his criminal war crimes “wrong doings.”
Yea, like that will happen.
Rich in military tradition, it once served as a Navy Base and now is home to the SS Hornet [now a museum] and former Air Force Buck Sergeant Ralph Zig Tyko [now a fossil]. Here’s a picture I took of what serves as my backyard, overlooking San Francisco. I’m blessed.
Dick Berk, who is able to recognize poignant humor with the best of ’em, sent me this joke.
The Husband Store
A brand new store has just opened in New York City
that sells husbands. When women go to choose a
husband, they have to follow the instructions at the
entrance:- ‘You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There
are 6 floors and the value of the products increase as
you ascend the flights. You may choose any item from a
particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next
floor, but you CANNOT go back down except to exit the
So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a
On the 1st floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1 –
These men have jobs.
The 2nd floor sign reads: Floor 2 – These men Have
Jobs and Love Kids.
The 3rd floor sign reads: Floor 3 – These men Have
Jobs, Love Kids and are extremely good looking.
‘Wow,’ she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the 4th floor and the sign reads: Floor 4
– These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good
Looking and Help with Housework.
‘Oh, mercy me!’ she exclaims, ‘I can hardly stand it!’
Still, she goes to the 5th floor and sign reads: Floor
5 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead
Gorgeous, help with Housework and Have A Strong
Romantic Streak. She is so tempted to stay, but she
goes to the 6th floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 – You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor.
There are no men on this floor. This floor exists
solely as proof that women are impossible to please.
Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opens
a New Wives store just across the street.
The 1st floor has wives that love sex.
The 2nd floor has wives that love sex and have money.
The 3rd through 6th floors have never been visited.
Here’s a link to to recent articles that appeared in the Alameda Journal and the Alameda Sun.
A number of us in Alameda marched for peace the other day, knowing full well that there are 300 some odd days until this administration [mercifully] comes to an end. Twixt now and then the casualty rate [4,000+ GIs killed] will rise. Here are some pictures:
… they found the body.
Don’t let the shocking news stop you from having a terrific Sunday. :-)
So, I fire up the ol’ computee in order to set my lineup for the beginning of the Fantasy Baseball season. The Sea Otters are set to compete, once again, in a Public Yahoo 5×5 League. I check the recent news on mlb.com, the most up to the minute source on the net. During Spring Training, the best news is no news at all. The exhibition game results don’t mean squat. Players statistics mean less. What counts are injuries, or preferably no injures.
After six weeks of terrific health for all, Curtis Granderson [whom I’m counting on for big numbers] was hit on the hand. Although he feels confident that it’s “nothing serious,” precautionary x-rays were ordered.
As in real baseball, it’s likely that the teams least beset by health problems over the course of the year are apt to prevail in the end.
Last month Sal Maglie, ace pitcher for the New York Giants, hurt his back and will miss the rest of the season [the Harlemites have since tanked ] in the computer baseball game I’m playing, simulating the 1954 season. Since Sal died in real life in 1992, this isn’t going to have much of an effect on his survivors. However, much like the Granderson news today, it sure changed my mood.
Indulge me in my silliness, gentle reader. Time not spent thinking about my mortality, war, recession, global warming, rigged elections, and fascist administrations is quality time… injuries not withstanding.
Here’s a picture of Curtis Granderson, 2008 AL MVP [health permitting]:
Here’s a link to an article in Wikipedeia about Kittatinny’s most famous alum, Jerome Robbins.
I wonder if he graced the “Midget Playhouse” on Pioneer Row. This picture was from my first year at camp, 1953.