tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44137589659585650432024-03-06T01:07:21.929-06:00The Henry Wiggen BlogSports, Journalism, Kansas City and everything in betweenJohn Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.comBlogger519125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-22491779767090463802013-09-26T22:02:00.003-05:002013-09-26T22:07:58.354-05:00Home finale was biggest moment in Royals history since 1985<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was much younger, my father took me and my brother to a the last game of the season for the Kansas City Royals.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-03118921-5d62-bdd1-7db0-1394322f0e01" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went to a lot of games when I was a kid - one summer, it seemed like we were out at the ballpark every other night - but this game sticks in my mind. It was the the late 80’s or early 90s. Back then the Royals were pretty good, posting a winning record most years, but the MLB structure of the time lumped the Royals into the huge American League West division, which featured seven teams and only one playoff spot each season. They were never good enough to break through and make the playoffs.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That year, the Royals were well out of the race, and the final month of the season was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The last game of the season was especially pointless.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But we had an absolute blast that day. The stadium was on the verge of being empty. The orange seats of the Royals Stadium (yes, this was in the pre-Kauffman Stadium days) upper deck were a vast sea nothingness, and they belonged to us. The players were having fun down there on the field, looking forward to their pending winter vacation, and it rubbed off on the handful of us in the crowd. After the game, we waited outside the stadium and collected autographs. All the players were signing that day. All of them were happy. One of the players (Danny Tartabull, maybe?) left the stadium in a huge fur coat, a woman on each arm, and climbed into the back of the biggest limousine I’ve ever seen.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As for the game itself? I remember nothing. I just remember the atmosphere that day.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flash forward twenty or so years to Sunday afternoon. The 2013 version of the Royals were playing their last home game of the season. That game was much different. The Royals were in the midst of a Wild Card race, the first time they had been playoff contenders for a decade. After battling the Texas Rangers into extra innings, Justin Maxwell blasted a walk-off grand slam for the win.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And it was arguably the most important moment in Royals history since Game 7 of the 1985 World Series.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, the Royals were sadly eliminated from contention a few nights later. But when this season started, could you have imagined the Royals competing for a wild card spot?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This team was written off multiple times during the season - even before the season began.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the team traded top prospect Wil Myers to Tampa for James Shields, they were written off as an organization with its head placed firmly up its butt.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the Royals lost on Opening Day, they were written off as a team that couldn’t even win with Shields, a legitimate ace, on the mound.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the team went 8-20 in the month of May, they were written off as the same old Royals, with no hopes for postseason play.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the Royals lost 10 out of 12 after a stretch where they went 17-3 spanning late July and early August, they were written off as a team that couldn’t stay on a roll.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And in the heat of the playoff race, every time the Royals </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">lost a game</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, they were written off.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But the truth is, the Royals were contenders through the first 158 games of the 2013 season. And this season was no fluke; the 2014 Royals should be just as strong, if not stronger. They won’t be written off so quickly in the future.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Which makes last Sunday’s home finale that much more important.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wasn’t just an amazing, walk-off, extra-innings win in front of a sellout crowd. Sunday’s game was a message to the rest of Major League Baseball: The Royals are not a joke anymore. The Royals are for real. They may be eliminated in 2013, but any opponents who write off the Royals in the future will regret it.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- Matt Kelsey</span></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-73503794672265282382013-09-04T10:37:00.003-05:002013-09-04T10:37:45.789-05:00New York Times lede a clue we are being softened up for the cartoon characters of war, rather than the bloody reality of war<div dir="ltr">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></strong> </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Take a look</span></strong> at the lede paragraph from the New
York <em>Times'</em> Syria story today. Peel back the layers of language. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
The key thing to notice here is
how the persona of the leader substitutes for the names we might apply to the
actual troops in battle. That is <i>always </i>dangerous, in my opinion. It
represents the beginning (or end) of the process of 'softening up' the country
for war. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-size: 12pt;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>President Bashar al-Assad’s public activities — in which he acts as if nothing untoward is happening in Syria — mask his increasing aggression in battle and belie his supporters’ fears of an American attack.</i></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Notice this phrase: <i>'...<strong>his</strong> </i>increasing aggression in battle...' The writer
might otherwise have said, simply 'mask the increasing aggression <i><strong>of his
troops</strong> </i>in battle...' That is more accurate. al-Assad, is not actually in battle. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
By
summarizing the entire 'other side' in the person of one man -- Hitler,
Hirohito, Fidel, Ho Chi Minh, Sadam -- the other side of the conflict can become
the cartoon face of some comic/evil character. That's the danger.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
This lede paragraph posits the
entire problem with al-Assad -- demonizes him in a narrow frame. That's not to
say he isn't a demon, but it is to say the intent of the writer -- conscious, or
unconscious -- is to suggest his elimination will end the conflict. Of course,
the destruction of Damascus and/or the end of his regime will do no such thing.
See the results in Egypt.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I haven't been reading closely for this
but my impression is this represents a sharp change of direction in the language
of the New York <em>Times</em>. It isn't easy to see but it's there all the same, and it's something to worry over. To me, it is always a signal we are, as a people, being softened up for war.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
--Lofflin</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
</span></span></div>
</div>
</span></span></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-79689732631620507402013-08-06T11:34:00.001-05:002013-08-06T11:41:14.169-05:00Yawn... A-Rod 'drama' unfolds, Great baseball is otherwise played, and a lovely baby is born... Note to Everyone: Rodriguez is just another hack who got caught... he goes zero for zero<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">The suspension of a dozen</span></strong> major league ballplayers for performance enhancing drug use -- cheating -- was big news yesterday. Biggest news was the suspension mess around media darling Alex Rodriguez, a New York Yankee pain in the neck who should have been banned for life but was just banned for, in essence, two seasons.<br />
<br />
So stupidly dominant was this story that other broadcasts of major league games cut away, often at critical moments, to his four rusty, uninteresting, turns at the plate in Chicago. Four ESPN talking heads -- two of them former Major League players, one reporter and one 'host' -- attempted to put the situation into perspective, but failed. Their words were sometimes thoughtful but their demeanor betrayed impatience and boredom with a subject so overblown, so inflated, yet so 'newsworthy' that it forced them to rehash what they had rehashed from what they had rehashed a week ago.<br />
<br />
Lost in the thick fog of the no longer compelling A-Rod scandal were a number of excellent games instrumental to the progress of a wonderful baseball season. The Dodgers, for one, moved into second place all-time for consecutive road wins with a nail-biter pitcher's-duel against the St. Louis Cardinals. Other interesting moments in the life of the season were revealed in other baseball cities, including our own August miracle.<br />
<br />
A daughter was born to one of my former students -- a college pitcher himself -- during the Rodriguez soap opera. If he hadn't been at bedside through 16 hours of labor, he might have, himself been ranting about Mr. Rodriguez. Instead, he sent me a photograph this morning of him holding his tiny new daughter in his big hands, the way you hold a baseball if you are a pitcher -- soft and gentle. Funny thing: No mention of Rodriguez in his e-mail message.<br />
<br />
Yes, the drama of the baseball cheats, and the passion play of the biggest cheat of all, may have held baseball fans in its thrall -- though I doubt it -- but many more important events happened yesterday.<br />
<br />
The <a href="http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/08/05/how-a-rod-doesnt-add-up/?hp&_r=0">finest words</a> on this subject came from former Major League player Doug Glanville in today's New York <em>Times</em>. I'll leave you with these because they are damn near perfect:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>There used to be a reason we were counting. It helped build
a story. Numbers allowed us to compare players within a generation or an era,
and across leagues, countries and decades. They tallied how you ranked in any
category and subcategory of your choosing. Or, better yet, in ways that may
have mattered just to you in that quiet moment playing with your son in the
backyard.<o:p></o:p></em></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span><em></em></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>You accumulated because each chip was a singular flake of
gold from the game. I had 1,100 hits in my career, but none were as magical as
number 1, and none as emotional as numbers 999, 1,000 and 1,001, which all came
the day my father died.<o:p></o:p></em></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span><em></em></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Numbers can have meaning because of what we bring to them.
Their value, and meaning, may change over time. But when all that matters is
the numbers as numbers, you have zeros.</em></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">--Lofflin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-43218615259168259742013-08-02T14:52:00.001-05:002013-08-02T15:04:03.532-05:00Summer's first tomato... bow your heads<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVmAvBUmPQS-R1epX-elxqXly0eWSFFUbw_FUc8FHj_wK6MoIq4ArQ5JnHNixMjgwBsWOARMBGOz4ZCnndup2IRVPDjlnPRdfUHFKWLtYVw4vfDTpQr_TkBCEgyhYTwCpRr7tx4ylqKfT/s1600/tomato+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVmAvBUmPQS-R1epX-elxqXly0eWSFFUbw_FUc8FHj_wK6MoIq4ArQ5JnHNixMjgwBsWOARMBGOz4ZCnndup2IRVPDjlnPRdfUHFKWLtYVw4vfDTpQr_TkBCEgyhYTwCpRr7tx4ylqKfT/s400/tomato+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">I had wine</span></strong> for breakfast today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't worry. It wasn't exactly wine. It was a fresh tomato from the garden. The first
of this late blooming year. A Celebrity, if I’m not mistaken.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not large. Somewhere between a baseball and a softball. Unmolested
by squirrel teeth outside; deep red and full of juice and flavor inside.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As flavorful as red wine. Three dimensional flavor. Tangy.
Summer sweet. Lingering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took one bite and had to bow my head on the tablecloth to
savor all that little tomato had to offer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, what to call the other red fruit I’ve been eating all
winter? Tomato will not do.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--Lofflin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-72938626473575212822013-07-31T12:33:00.001-05:002013-07-31T12:33:29.412-05:00Just sayin'... Billy Beane traded for Callaspo today, Ibanez in trade rumors, Royals looking for a second baseman... it all makes you wonder about the Brain Trust despite a .500 season so far<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Royals hunt</span></strong> for second baseman.<br />
<br />
Just a quick hit on this today. The Royals' Brain Trust says it is searching for a second baseman at the trade deadline. Apparently, nobody who has played the position this year is satisfactory for a playoff run.<br />
<br />
No question the Royals need a second baseman. They have needed a second baseman since Frank White.<br />
<br />
The interesting notion that the Royals are buyers instead of sellers -- or would-be sellers... you have to have something someone else wants to be a seller -- at the trade deadline tells you life is better in the executive suite and on the field. <br />
<br />
Now, this thought certainly goes back a ways and is probably unfair. It has, however, stuck in my craw a while.<br />
<br />
In 2010, the Royals traded Alberto Callaspo to the Angels at this time of year for two pitchers, Sean O'Sullivan and Will Smith. Callaspo was yet another player the Royals' Brain Trust thought wouldn't amount to much, despite showing promise. Think Raul Ibanez.<br />
<br />
Ibanez, by the way, has hit 24 home runs this year and is mentioned in several trade rumors today. O'Sullivan, has pitched 19 innings and given up 23 hits for San Diego in 2013. Smith has been up and down I-29 this season, with little success here.<br />
<br />
Today, Billy Beane traded a number one draft choice for Callaspo as the first-place A's prepared for a stretch run. What did the A's need? <br />
<br />
A second baseman.<br />
<br />
--LofflinJohn Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-41669166697550518402013-07-12T20:10:00.001-05:002013-07-12T20:10:29.033-05:00Something ELSE the Star should apologize forAs an addendum to <a href="http://henrywiggen.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-kansas-city-star-should-apologize.html">John's article last week</a>, here's something else the Kansas City Star should apologize for: <a href="http://www.kansascity.com/2013/07/12/4341775/sharknado-can-it-happen-here.html">this article</a> referencing a recent SciFi Channel movie called "Sharknado," which is about sharks falling out of tornadoes or some such thing.<br />
<br />
The headline is "Sharknado: Can it happen here?"<br />
<br />
I think the Star's article is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek. But it's hard to tell from the writing. In fact, the reporter went so far as to interview the display curator at the Sea Life Aquarium in order to ascertain whether shark tornadoes are a thing that is real.<br />
<br />
(Spoiler alert: NO)<br />
<br />
I'd like to think this poor reporter was given a crummy assignment on a slow news day and tried to do his best with it.Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-19124374573529532582013-07-05T12:44:00.000-05:002013-07-05T13:05:09.127-05:00The Kansas City Star should apologize to its readers for disrespectful news decisions -- Paula Deen is apprently the second most important event in the world at noon today... click bait on a hook won't save journalism<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">I’m calling out</span></strong> the Kansas City Star here and now for bankruptcy of news judgment this morning. At 11:59 a.m., a story about Paula Deen was actually listed SECOND under “Latest News” on their opening Web page.<br />
<br />
You read it right: Latest <em>News</em>.<br />
<br />
Second under “Latest News” is certainly bad enough. With Kansas City erupting in violence of surprising variety and Egyptian troops firing on demonstrators, with a do-nothing congress and hairball legislatures on both sides of the state line rendering governance either dangerous or cockeyed, in a world struggling to cope with completely new viruses both real and virtual, and a universe of new threats to privacy in the name of security sprouting up like mushrooms after a rainy season, opening the Web page with Paula Deen is just the worst message this newspaper could send its readers about 1) what’s important in the world this morning, and 2) what the editors of this newspaper <em>think</em> is important in the world this morning.<br />
<br />
If you are a reader of the Kansas City <em>Star</em>, you have been disrespected by this tripe.<br />
<br />
And, tripe, it is. Not only is this a story about poor Paula Deen, a woman caught in the meat grinder of a 24-hour news cycle that has turned all of us into sick paparazzi, but it’s a story about Paula Deen being offered a publicity stunt deal by a porn outfit. Nothing happened here. Some bright public relations or marketing person saw an opportunity to send out a press release and get a little notice for his or her boss. That’s all. No action. Nothing. Probably didn’t even waste paper or stamp on the idea. Hacked out an official looking e-mail and sent it to every newspaper in the country with a single click. That’s it. A worm on a hook.<br />
<br />
Now, don’t go to the story if you’re expecting something juicy. It’s a plastic worm -- dare I say? -- for a plastic world. (Yes, I did watch "Woodstock" yesterday…) There is no there, there. If you are looking for something salacious, you’ll be completely disappointed. <br />
<br />
And, if you care about journalism as a profession at all, you’ll be sorely disappointed by the writer of this story who actually received a byline for a 10-paragraph, 124-word, brief. I use the word ‘story’ loosely. What is the story here? Search for it yourself. I mean, it isn’t even funny, let alone a story.<br />
<br />
Oh, the writer was careful to include a few obvious puns about aprons, biscuits and butter – no reference to “The Last Tango in Paris,” unfortunately. None of it was delivered with any sort of wit, even juvenile. I’d be shocked if she spent more than five minutes knocking it out on the computer.<br />
<br />
Apparently, her editor spent less time considering whether to publish it, and where to publish it.<br />
<br />
The writer and her editors, and the newspaper as an entity, owe their readers an apology. They might as well apologize to Paula Deen in the process because she is, after all, a real human being, not just headline type or pixels in a mug shot. Ugh!<br />
<br />
--LofflinJohn Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-68809247326588118322013-07-02T11:46:00.000-05:002013-07-02T11:53:51.139-05:00Royals sign 16-year-old shortstop for $1.3 million... somehow the idea doesn't sit well; will they even let the kid finish high school? Mr. Escobar, you better learn how to beat Billy Butler to first base on those routine ground outs<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Just a little queasy</span></b> is how I feel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did the Royals just sign a 16-year-old to a $1.3 million
contract?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Mr. Escobar were my regular, best-hope, shortstop, I’d be
looking for help, too. But, a 16-year-old? <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Question: Will the Royals make it possible for Marten
Gasparini to finish high school?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading about ‘gap-to-gap’ power in a 16-year-old just feels
strange. Above average bat speed, they say. Above average for 16-year-olds or
above average for minor league or major league players. Marten is already six
foot – are they sure he is finished growing? What happens when he discovers
girls?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember what happened to my baseball work ethic when I
discovered girls at about the same age. Well… when I <i>really</i> discovered girls, since I had discovered them long before in
a more, let’s say, <i>passive</i> way. Only god knows what would have happened if I'd had $1.3 million to spend on girls at 16. As it was, I embezzled $32 as treasurer of the MYF to keep my first girlfriend in french fries and malted milk.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
$1.3 million in the pocket of a 16-year-old? Mickey Mantle
was 19 and had graduated high school when he signed with the Yankees for
$1,500. And he still had a lot of growing up to do. Think about it. Mickey was
raised on hard scrabble ground by his tough lead miner father in a dusty
Oklahoma town. If anyone should have been seasoned for the mental rigors of
professional baseball, it was The Mick.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, he nearly folded during his first year in the minor
leagues. It took some harsh words from his father, Mutt, to keep him from
boarding a bus back to Commerce, Okla., mid-season.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no idea what sort of life Marten Gasparini has lived
in Italy. But the idea of a 16-year-old with a $1.3 million bonus makes me
queasy. And, not just for the money spent because the Royals certainly waste
plenty of money on much older folks. I’m just thinking about the kid, about
what this means in the shape of his life. Somehow, ironically, it doesn’t seem
quite fair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin<o:p></o:p></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-57429112309816287152013-06-21T11:59:00.000-05:002013-06-21T12:19:05.105-05:00Last 39 seconds of the NBA finals were all the professional basketball I needed... yes, the NBA has problems<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">Played softball</span></strong> last night. A</span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">rrived home from the park about 9:30 p.m. My wife was
watching Star Trek and, exhausted, I settled into the couch next to her. Like
an alien force, a species previously unknown to man, I was sucked into the
Enterprise, a vapor existing only in the big ship's computer grid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">When the Enterprise was safely on its way again, I returned
instantly to human form and suddenly remembered Game 7 of the NBA’s final contest of the
season.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">That’s the point of this screed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I went upstairs and turned on the television. When the
picture came up, I saw a long shot of the court from high in the arena. The players were returning to the court from a time out. The
announcer told me the game was down to the last 39 seconds. It seemed like it
took half an hour to play those 39 seconds – in reality, well… it may have. I
didn’t put a clock on it. It was good basketball – tough, smart, skillful… full
of fury, joy, despair, and balletic feats so contrary to the laws of gravity
they were bound to amaze even the most jaded watcher.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But those 39 seconds were all I needed. I didn’t pine for
the other 47:20. I didn’t hope for overtime. I didn’t wish for another game. I
didn’t regret missing entirely four games of the series. Those final 39 seconds
were quite enough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes, the NBA has problems.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">And, I’m not a casual basketball fan. I love the sport. In
winter, the smell of the gym was ambrosia to me. I sat parked on the floor in
front of our black and white television countless Saturday afternoons in winter
watching Russell and Chamberlain do battle. A freight train could have rumbled
through the living room and I wouldn’t have budged. I didn't miss a single game my alma mater played this past college basketball season. Not one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">But, somewhere along the
line, professional basketball lost its luster for me. Maybe it began to seem too
easy for the players. Maybe the chest bumps and styling to the sideline cameras
got old. Maybe it’s the simple fact that the finals are played in June -- on the longest day of the year -- when my
body has retooled completely for summer, for outdoors, for sun and wind and
cottonwood in the air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Whatever the reason, it was surprising to me to realize those
final 39 seconds were all I wanted of professional basketball for the year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">--Lofflin</span><br />
</div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-10822854149915628682013-06-17T17:02:00.003-05:002013-06-17T17:02:57.218-05:00If I were GM...Some of this may be obvious to the casual baseball fan, but if I were General Manager of the Kansas City Royals, I would do the following things over the next several weeks:<br />
<br />
* When Jarrod Dyson is healthy enough to re-join the major league club, release Jeff Francoeur. Dyson and David Lough have proven this season that they're better contibutors than Francoeur, <a href="http://mlb.mlb.com/mlb/gameday/index.jsp?gid=2013_06_16_kcamlb_tbamlb_1&mode=recap_away&c_id=kc">despite his power surge</a> in yesterday's game. Francoeur is an amazing personality and a great guy to have in the clubhouse. But with the exception of his exceptional throwing arm, Francoeur is a liability. I would recommend trading Francoeur, and obviously as GM I would take that route if available, but who's gonna want him in any kind of decent trade? Releasing him is the only option. And heck, if he is claimed off waivers, the Royals might get some salary relief or a player-to-be-named-later in a waiver trade.<br />
<br />
* Give Dyson a chance to earn the extra starting position. He's earned it. But I would keep him on a short leash. If he stops hitting, and if his incredible speed doesn't help to produce runs, I would flip David Lough to the starting position with no hesitation. Heck, since Dyson's injury, Lough has practically been the starter anyway.<br />
<br />
* Trade Ervin Santana, even if the Royals are in the chase by the trade deadline. Santana is having a pretty solid year so far, and it turned out to be a really good pickup. I think he could help us win down the stretch. But not long after the trade deadline, two really promising arms - Danny Duffy and Felipe Paulino - will be returning to the team after recovering from Tommy John surgery. And they're gonna need a spot to fill. I would trade Santana for either prospects or a run-producing second baseman to a National League contending team in need of pitching.<br />
<br />
* Figure out the infield situation. George Brett's presence as hitting coach has coincided with a resurgence by first baseman Eric Hosmer, but the same can't be said for third baseman Mike Moustakas. He may need to spend some time in the minors to figure things out. I'd give him to the All-Star Break, and if he doesn't get it together, send him to Omaha. Alcides Escobar is struggling at the plate this year, but I like him as the NO. 9 hitter instead of the No. 2, and I don't have any problem with him remaining the every day shortstop. Then there's second base. I love Chris Getz' attitude, but he's not a major-league caliber everyday player. The second base job needs to belong to Eliot Johnson and/or Miguel Tejada until a more permanent solution is found. That solution could be a trade (see above) or the emergence of Christian Colon in the minor league system.<br />
<br />
* If the Royals don't have a winning record by the All-Star Break, it's time to fire Ned Yost. This team should be winning. And some of his decisions as the field skipper have been downright baffling. And keep this in mind: the last time a team fired Ned Yost during the season, by the 2008 Brewers, that team made the playoffs. If Yost fails, <a href="http://henrywiggen.blogspot.com/2013/05/number-five-on-top-step-of-dugout.html">I like John's idea</a> of offering the job to Frank White. If the Royals have to fire Yost, it probably means we're mostly writing off this season, so I'm good with giving an inexperienced White a chance to prove himself. But long-term, I think we should be looking for a successful, experienced major league manager.Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-37217498602586236282013-06-04T21:35:00.000-05:002013-06-04T21:35:09.177-05:00Book sale justiceJamie and I took a trip to Metcalf South Shopping Center tonight for the annual Johnson County Library Used Book Sale. It's awesome - seriously, check it out. It's the best used book sale in Kansas City, and <a href="http://www.jocolibrary.org/default.aspx?id=3154">it's going on all week</a>.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes at the sale, we noticed one of the things we despise most: poachers.<br />
<br />
What are poachers? If you've been to a used book store, a thrift store or a used book sale in the past few years, you've probably seen one. They have little barcode scanners attached to their smart phones, and they scan each and every book they run across to see if they can make a profit by selling it online.<br />
<br />
To put it plainly, these people are assholes. I hate them. If you are one, I hate you. What those people do is not illegal, but it's annoying an immoral as hell, in my opinion. Book sales are for people who love books; people who come in and take all the best ones simply to resell them at a profit are despicable human beings. They don't care about the books they're scanning; in fact, they generally don't look at anything except for the barcode.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.enzymepdx.com/prototype/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Scanner_book_512_304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://www.enzymepdx.com/prototype/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Scanner_book_512_304.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: the hand of an asshole.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The poachers were out in force tonight at the book sale. They were working in teams; I saw three women who were connected to each other via bluetooth headset, talking over strategies wirelessly. All the poachers carted their finds around in big wheeled carts that, of course, blocked the stacks of books from the regular people who were just looking for good things to read. And they were aggressive, too; pity the poor soul who gets in between them and a table of potential profit.<br />
<br />
Jamie and I shopped around for about an hour, then before exiting we found a bench and sat down to take stock of our selections and weed out the ones we really didn't want after all. We ended up with a stack of four or five books in a discard stack.<br />
<br />
Before Jamie had a chance to re-shelve the books, I stopped her. I saw a poacher in front of us and I was struck with inspiration. I laid out my plan to Jamie, and we executed it brilliantly.<br />
<br />
The poacher was scanning a table of books and had started to wander away from her cart. When the space between her and her cart got big enough, I stepped between the two. Jamie swiftly came in behind me and gently placed our leftover books in the poacher's cart, then walked off. When the poacher turned around and noticed I was between her and the cart, I apologized and walked away in the opposite direction.<br />
<br />
We met up a few minutes later and high-fived.<br />
<br />
The beauty of our revenge mission was that the poachers don't actually look at the books they scan, so she probably never noticed our books in her cart. When she gets home and scans the books again to post them on Amazon or eBay or wherever, she'll be confused as hell wondering why she put those books in her cart. Heck, maybe the four or five bucks we cost her will make her reconsider whether it's a profitable venture. Probably not, but a boy can dream.<br />
<br />
As I said earlier, these people are completely within their rights to poach at used book sales. And I feel like I'm within my rights to screw with them. I have zero remorse, and I would happily do it again.<br />
<br />
In fact, if you're a poacher, and I run across you at a book sale, don't be surprised if you end up with a few duds in your basket.Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-54657016382185890892013-05-31T10:17:00.002-05:002013-06-01T23:28:28.212-05:00Number Five on the top step of the dugout; brilliant baseball move, brilliant public relations move... Moore to fans and radio talkers: Now shut up<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Dammit, Dayton Moore</strong> beat me to the punch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But only because I’m in the middle of a big writing project.
Otherwise, I’d have filed this piece Wednesday morning and beaten him to the
punch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hiring George Brett as hitting coach for the local boys Thursday morning was
a stroke of genius. Well, put it this way: Sometimes the smartest thing you can
do is the most obvious thing you can do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or, as a Texas politician once said: When you realize you
are digging a hole for yourself, stop digging.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Royals have dug one helluva hole for themselves as an
organization. And, from the beginning they’ve had some of the answers right
under their noses but refused to turn to them. My guess is every<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>general manager and every manager wanted to
do this thing by himself, make his own name, put his own stamp on the turnarounds
that never came. To bring in Brett was to introduce into the current equation the fiercely </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">competitive impulses of those
brief shining moments in Royal’s history. That could be dangerous for the brain trust.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And George said it himself in interviews yesterday, though
not in these exact words. How can you be the one to fire George Brett?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, I’m going to expand the discussion a bit. What I would
have posted Wednesday morning would have been this. Dayton Moore should start
by driving over to Community America Ballpark today with a five year contract
in his hands, walk up to Frank White between innings, apologize, then hand him
the contract. Frank White should be the manager with a guaranteed five years to
work.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And Kevin Seitzer should return.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, I’ll stop there for now. I sound like a damned homer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The public relations brilliance of this is difficult to
overestimate. In essence, what Moore is saying to the fans – would be saying if
he took my advice – is, ‘OK, stop complaining, stop whining, stop yelping.
Here. Here are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your</i> guys. The guys <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> want in the dugout. They’re here for
five years, at least. I don’t want to hear another word about it. I can’t fire
them and neither can you. They ARE the franchise. I’ll put my full attention on
getting them the players they need. But, in the meantime, shut up.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, something like that. This move alone will stick a sock
in the radio sports talkers for a while. Which is fine. They can yodel all they
want about how brilliant this move was. They can take credit for it, if they
like. It’s their job. It’s how they make a living. Everybody wins.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, winning is what this is about, as much as public
relations. Or, should be. Did you see new life in the dugout last night when
the television cameras focused there – which they did a lot with Number Five on
the top step? Did you see smiles? Did you see that, ‘What did I tell you look?’
pass between the worst hitting right fielder in baseball and the man with 3,114
career hits after the ninth inning home run? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, it can’t last forever. But, then again, did you ever
think anyone could take Goose deep when George did?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, one more thing. When you read Brett’s comments in the
paper this morning, you realized what has been missing in that dugout this
season. The man who could always choose the right pitch to hit into the alley has trouble choosing the safest words to say politically. His words this morning could lead to only one
conclusion. The current manager doesn’t have it. Maybe never did. He has to go.
The two cannot co-exist in the Royals’ dugout for long. They see the game, the
players, the spirit of winning, to say nothing of the craft of hitting a baseball, from completely different angles, and those
angles are incompatible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><strong><em><u>Who's faster: Billy Butler or Alcides Excobar?</u></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">A club run by the likes of Brett and White would not tolerate the play of some of the current nine. While Alcides Escobar <em>can</em> make brilliant plays a short -- and muff the easy ones just as often -- Billy Butler beats him to first base every time on a pop up to the outfield or a ground ball to second. In the scorebook, the result is the same. But in the spirit of the nine, such things make all the difference.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, Dayton Moore needs to take my advice and get himself
out to a T-Bones game. The reclamation work has only begun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0pc 0pc 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">--Lofflin, feeling strangely energized this soggy morning…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-69862061297701872822013-05-16T10:51:00.000-05:002013-05-16T10:54:00.241-05:00Bottom of the ninth, Royals down two, bases empty, two out...<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span></strong>If Willie Wilson could get on ...<br />
And bring George Brett to the plate...<br />
Well...<br />
You could dream a little<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">...</span><strong>"</strong></span><br />
<br />
Rest in peace, Fred White<br />
<br />
--LofflinJohn Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-81093176535485881282013-05-12T18:09:00.001-05:002013-05-23T18:19:07.262-05:00Dad<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For over five years now my family has been keeping a secret that isn’t a secret at all: anyone who has interacted with my parents during that time knows exactly what it is.</span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s a problem that has come to consume all of our lives. A problem that continues to grow worse. But because that problem reached a breaking point recently, it’s one we feel like we can talk about. These are the words that until now I’ve only been able to say to close family members and the closest of friends:</span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father has Alzheimer’s disease. </span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-338b0760-9afc-1c31-4015-ffb7ebe55f48" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We first started to notice it six or seven years ago. During the course of a Saturday afternoon, Dad would ask one of us a simple question, something like, “What time do the Royals play tonight?” An hour later, he would ask the same question again. We didn’t think much of it, or at least we didn’t admit it to ourselves.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As his memory got worse, my wife and I whispered about it in bed at night. My brother and I discussed it in secret asides at family get-togethers. We didn’t use the “A” word, not at first.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the next year, there was no denying Dad’s memory was leaving him. When driving, he would forget the speed limit, and slow down to 35 miles per hour, even if he was on the interstate. If we were eating at an unfamiliar restaurant, Dad would get confused and think we were in a different city. He began “sundowning,” a nightmarish cycle where dementia sufferers experience increased confusion in the evenings, and he never wanted to leave the house after dark, or even if it was approaching nighttime.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By this point, while our immediate family was discussing the situation openly with Dad out of the room, my brave Mom slowly convinced Dad that he should see a doctor about his memory. The doctor asked him a series of simple questions: Who is the president? What year is it? What’s 16 plus 27? My Dad, a 68-year-old, college-educated accountant, couldn’t answer any of the questions.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The official Alzheimer’s diagnosis followed. Dad was placed on a medication called Aricept, which was supposed to slow the symptoms. It didn’t. Dad only got worse. He often would ask the same series of questions 20 times in the span of an hour. Dad would tell a story from his childhood, and as soon as the story came to an end he would start to tell the exact same story over again.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s like someone hit the “reset” button on his mind every few minutes.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Imagine you wake up out of a dream you can’t remember. But you’re not in bed. You’re walking through your own living room. Your son is sitting on the couch and you say hello, as though he just arrived for a visit, but he tells you he’s been there for an hour. You ask where his wife is, and he points across the room: she’s standing right there, and she’s been there for an hour too. Confused, you close your eyes.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When you open them, you’re standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and you’ve never been there before. You have no idea why you’re there, and you don’t see a familiar face anywhere.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You blink again, and suddenly you’re riding in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. You can tell your family is around you, enjoying a pleasant afternoon drive, but you have no idea where the car is headed and you have no recollection of how you got in the car in the first place.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blink. You’re in the middle of a conversation with a complete stranger. You don’t know where you are, so you ask. “You’re at the hardware store,” the stranger says, “and that’s the third time you’ve asked me that question.” </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blink. Now you’re in a vast parking lot. You seem to be leaving a store, but you don’t know what kind of store, what’s inside the bag in your hand, and of course you don’t know where you parked. You walk around the parking lot but nothing refreshes your memory. Your search becomes frantic.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s getting dark. You’re scared. And you are utterly alone.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is the very real nightmare that is Alzheimer’s disease.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the last few years, we began to discover the other symptoms of Alzheimer’s, as if complete short-term memory loss wasn’t enough. Alzheimer’s disease also has a way of enhancing a person’s worst characteristics while destroying the best. Dad became constantly irritable and angry. He hardly ever talked and never wanted to socialize, especially with people outside the immediate family. And inside Dad’s brain, he began to craft elaborate conspiracy theories. One day, he believed he was being imprisoned. The next, he thought that his house, where he had lived for the last 35 years, was a hotel in a different city, and he wanted to know why our family pictures were all over the walls.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then came the breaking point.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Three weeks ago: Dad developed a particularly nasty conspiracy theory that he wouldn’t let go. He was as angry as I’ve ever seen him, just plain mad at my mother, my brother and I for the situation we had put him in. And Dad began to show signs of violence: he slammed doors, threw things, made threats, and shoved my brother during a confrontation.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two weeks ago: My brother received a frantic phone call in the middle of the night from Mom; she was scared that Dad would hurt her, and she needed to be picked up. My brother called me on his way over to get her, and my wife and I drove to my brother’s house.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the twilight hours of that night, we decided it was time to act. My brother and I drove to Dad’s house at 3 a.m. By that point he was completely calm and had forgotten about the events that had caused us to come over. We spent the night at his house. But by 7 a.m. the next morning, Dad was furious again, for no reason he could enunciate. We were worried he would hurt himself or one of us.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That day was the hardest of my life. Because of his sudden behavior change, Dad’s doctor recommended we take him to the emergency room for evaluation. Of course, he wouldn’t go willingly. We called 911 and a platoon of squad cars and an ambulance arrived. He went, unwillingly, but without incident. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About one week ago: Dad was transferred from one hospital to another, this one with a special psychiatric unit that treats elderly dementia patients. He is there now. This hospital represents a transition phase. He’ll be there another week or two. And then we will have him transferred to a nursing facility with a secure Alzheimer’s wing.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s the only option. We all know it. Dad can’t come back home. But that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. At least a dozen times in the past week, I’ve had doubts about whether we’re doing the right thing. I can’t sleep at night sometimes, worried that we’ve made a terrible mistake.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But every time those doubts surface, I remember two things:</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First: At 3 a.m. on Dad’s last day at home, during a lucid moment, he told my brother and I something he’s told us several times since the disease took over: “If I end up going crazy, and you decide it’s time to put me away, just promise me that you’ll do what’s best for your mother.”</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Second: As Dad climbed into the ambulance and looked back at his house for perhaps the last time, he told my brother and I that he never wanted to see us again.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The former incident was my Daddy talking, telling us that everything was going to be all right.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The latter incident was the disease talking, telling us that everything we ever loved about our father was gone for good.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’ve lost Dad, and there’s no getting him back.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’ve lost him to a disease that takes away, among other things, his ability to remember, so it’s ironic that the best thing we have left of him is our memories.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Saturday mornings with my Dad. When I was little, I always woke up first on the weekends. I would tiptoe to Mom and Dad’s bedroom and I would whisper, “Hey, Dad!” He would joyfully wake up and we would go have an adventure together.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember summer family road trips. While my Mom and my brother conspired or napped in the backseat, I rode up front with my Dad and served as his navigator.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember the books. Dad loved to read, and he taught my brother and I how to love it as well. He opened up the universe to us in the pages of the vast library in his house.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Dad always left work at the office. He never seemed tired when he got home from work; Dad was overjoyed to see us and spend the evening with us, each and every night.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Dad took us to countless Royals games during hot Kansas City summers, and even if he had to work the next day, he would always let us stay well after the game ended to get autographs from the players.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Dad’s pride at my youthful accomplishments: a good grade, a sports trophy, graduating from high school and college. He was there every step of the way.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember that well after dementia had taken over, my brother and his wife had a baby. Dad hadn’t been able to remember anything for years, but the instant he heard the baby boy’s name, Bryce, it became a part of him. To this day he knows his grandson’s name.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Louis Edward Kelsey not by the disease that destroyed his brain and his life, but the man he made me. I remember Louis Edward Kelsey as my Dad.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- Matt Kelsey</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCONcipCTKaXg0p75XjMpGBj-WPy0Xm5ZGW91oq1sdA0pUBpmm4Vo7Uk3rI6Bta30MX0o7dsj3mmrQUYtto-ePho7zWIFNv1E939KZkY9ct5_sf0Pab95awWCeBXa5cZOWAs6T6Z9504/s1600/dad+for+wiggen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCONcipCTKaXg0p75XjMpGBj-WPy0Xm5ZGW91oq1sdA0pUBpmm4Vo7Uk3rI6Bta30MX0o7dsj3mmrQUYtto-ePho7zWIFNv1E939KZkY9ct5_sf0Pab95awWCeBXa5cZOWAs6T6Z9504/s400/dad+for+wiggen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/iMVc0vG4K_k/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/iMVc0vG4K_k&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/iMVc0vG4K_k&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</b>Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-81932539745242672172013-04-19T22:24:00.001-05:002013-04-19T22:24:10.655-05:00A new cap, but not my favorite<i>NOTE: Since I don't have anything significant to add about the tragic Boston Marathon bombing case, and since that seems to be all you can find online the last few days, a brief diversion...</i><br />
<br />
After work today I drove to the mall.<br />
<br />
That's a sentence I thought I would never utter again. I'm too old to be a "mall shopper," and malls aren't what they used to be. But I had a specific purchase in mind, and the mall was the best place to find it.<br />
<br />
I wanted to buy a new Kansas City Royals cap.<br />
<br />
I own several Royals hats in all styles and colors. I have a cap from Royals Spring Training. I have caps from the 2012 All-Star Game. I have giveaway caps from the ballpark. I even have one, a gift from my brother, that's bright yellow with "Royals" written across the front in a red rock-n-roll font; if you don't look at it closely, you'd assume it said "Aerosmith," or "Macho Man Randy Savage."<br />
<br />
But my classic white-KC-on-solid-blue cap was getting a little worse for the wear. So I decided it was time to replace it.<br />
<br />
The one I bought, from the mall hat store, is awesome. It's the exact same kind the big leaguers wear: New Era 59-Fifty, hand-stitched, MLB authenticated, fitted size 7 1/2, and, surprisingly, made in the USA. It's a beautiful cap.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cdn.bleacherreport.net/images_root/images/photos/001/216/461/109370845_crop_650x440.jpg?1305289208" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://cdn.bleacherreport.net/images_root/images/photos/001/216/461/109370845_crop_650x440.jpg?1305289208" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
But it's not my favorite Royals cap I've ever had. That distinction belongs to a cap I wore a long, long time ago.<br />
<br />
My family had a close family friend when I was growing up, a gentleman named Ralph Lynch, who was my dad's co-worker. I could write post after post about Ralph, who passed away a decade ago. Besides my dad and my brother, Ralph was the greatest man I ever knew. Both of my grandfathers passed away before I was born, so Ralph was like a grandpa to me.<br />
<br />
He was a Royals fan, too. One of my earliest memories is watching the 1985 World Series from the carpet of our living room next to my big brother. My mom, dad and Ralph were seated behind us. When George Brett embraced Bret Saberhagen on the mound after the final out of Game Seven, my brother and I pounded our fists on the carpets and screamed until our throats were raw.<br />
<br />
Not long after the '85 series, Ralph was over at our house one Saturday. He and my dad were sitting on the back deck drinking Pabst, and my brother and I were pretending to be Star Wars figures or something like that. Ralph was wearing a Royals cap that day, and for some reason he decided it had outlived its usefulness - Ralph was unsentimental, and if something needed to be replaced, by god, he replaced it. Ralph took the cap off and threw it in the trash can.<br />
<br />
But I didn't have a Royals cap at the time. So I dug Ralph's old hat right out of the trash. And I wore it.<br />
<br />
Every day.<br />
<br />
<i>For years.</i><br />
<br />
That was the best cap I ever owned.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2RWmtahF8CR8mV74_clg2o6cNyODS_daU5mQJVAVH4kjLG2RPd5mdc_H4ed5E3kbBDFdZoC3NW3y194vo47b2Nm3NKOMmJwO1mR4jvDUrAqrv9sVHI6KvexhLMTbWBzJLTcFPPXJXZc/s1600/ralph+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2RWmtahF8CR8mV74_clg2o6cNyODS_daU5mQJVAVH4kjLG2RPd5mdc_H4ed5E3kbBDFdZoC3NW3y194vo47b2Nm3NKOMmJwO1mR4jvDUrAqrv9sVHI6KvexhLMTbWBzJLTcFPPXJXZc/s400/ralph+2.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-5435282855497569832013-04-18T09:22:00.000-05:002013-04-18T14:29:52.539-05:00Lift the black cloud ... the old order is just clinging by its fingernails and the cultural glacier moves on. Someday we'll laugh at this silliness. Gun craziness. Gay marriage bans. Maybe not today... but someday<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Do you mean</span></b> to tell me women couldn’t vote in America before
1920? Why, that was just 93 years ago."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"You’re not serious. Really? Blacks were once counted as only
three-fifths a whole person? In America?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"What? Coca Cola once contained cocaine? That’s crazy."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not so crazy, actually. All true. And, this morning allow me to
use those three hard-to-imagine ideas to lift the black cloud of recent events
from my head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We live in interesting times. Since the early 1960s, we have
lived in a world in the midst of great cultural upheaval, not unlike the vast
political, geographic and economic upheaval of the industrial revolution. Real
change, real revolution is slow. The 1960s did more than introduce the world to
Muddy Waters and end the Vietnam War. They began the glacial movement of the centerpoint of American culture that we are today finally able to measure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The centerpoint will continue to move across our landscape.
You can’t hold it back or turn it around any more than you could hold back a
glacier once it is in motion. The game is still being played but the outcome is decided.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what we see in these final machinations of the political
and cultural machine are the last ditch efforts of the past to hold back the
future. It is that thought with which I comfort myself this morning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Someday, I propose, somebody will say to somebody else:<br />
<br />
<b>‘You’re
kidding. You could buy a gun at a gun show or on the Internet without a background check? That’s crazy.’<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘You mean to tell me in those days a person could keep an
arsenal fit only for war in the closet of his home?’<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘That’s wild. People actually argued for fewer restrictions
on the rights of people who are mentally ill to have guns? Guns?’<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘Man, what a crazy time. The government kept track of who
bought cold medicine but not machine guns?’<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>'Really. Are you serious? A guy actually shot his wife by accident in a restaurant when the gun in his pocket went off? In his pocket? In a restaurant?'</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>'A teenage kid. A nine-millimeter in the pocket of his hoodie? Went off accidentally and shot a child??'</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘Are you serious? The Missouri legislature spent time
debating a law about chili suppers when all this was happening?’<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘Really. Investment bankers actually got away with that shit in those days? That's highway robbery!’<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>'Do you mean to tell me they didn't have universal health care back then? How could that be? What happened if you got sick?'</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, of course:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>‘The government actually restricted who could be married to
whom? Really? If you were gay you couldn't marry? They actually said marriage
is defined as one woman, one man? They said that?’</b><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
These changes are inevitable. They have already happened.
Nowhere was Bob Dylan more prescient than 50 years ago when he wrote “The Times
They Are A-Changin’.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>“Come senators, congressmen</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Please heed the call</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Don’t stand in the doorway</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Don’t block up the hall</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>For he who gets hurt</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Will be he who has stalled</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>There’s a battle outside and it’s ragin’</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>It’ll soon shake your windows</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>And rattle your walls</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>For the times they are a-changin’...</i>"</blockquote>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Way back in 1963, Mr. Dylan just about nailed what happened in Congress and the rest of the world yesterday. As he so
eloquently put it: “The order is rapidly fadin…’ Indeed, it is, though on some
days it may not look like it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-88806184151681432302013-04-07T22:30:00.002-05:002013-04-08T09:50:53.788-05:00Drone Reporting 101... journalism education atwitter again as technology drives innovative storytelling and shoe leather -- shoe rubber actually -- becomes obsolete<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jH_OB62CuFPBG9QTdumNtF98sGCBk7Yc0pwm0gIhQp5Vml57r03j1nf5TK4hG7aVEF210GuAKCFJfXmoX8xaEaohVft9fZWkHOd5hu5C9t5-esAp5AhKETc3wIaBaH3iThBayVkBIiJo/s1600/drone.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jH_OB62CuFPBG9QTdumNtF98sGCBk7Yc0pwm0gIhQp5Vml57r03j1nf5TK4hG7aVEF210GuAKCFJfXmoX8xaEaohVft9fZWkHOd5hu5C9t5-esAp5AhKETc3wIaBaH3iThBayVkBIiJo/s1600/drone.jpe" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Tony Botello's new awesome unmanned tipster</b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">OMG!</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.kansascity.com/2013/04/06/4166505/media-zooms-in-on-university-of.html">Drone Reporting 101</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’re falling behind again. It is just impossible to keep up
with the technological curve in the field of journalism.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a while, journalism educators were all atwitter about
teaching students to tweet their stories. This doesn’t make much sense, in
practice, because students already know more about tweeting than even the most
thumb adept professor. Most of the students can tweet with ease but can’t write
a simple declarative sentence to save their souls. Come to think of it, being
able to write a simple subject-verb sentence may be the most important skill a
tweeting reporter needs to learn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some educators have been intrigued by video games designed
to teach journalism. Others are falling
all over themselves to teach Facebook journalism. Of course, cell phone
journalism is passé. Ipad journalism is teetering on the edge of passé. Four
square anyone? Not your father’s playground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Technology isn’t new to journalism. Reporters have always
made nearly instant use of whatever tools they could. The job demands it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My own career spans tools from the old Associated Press
teletype to Google search. I nearly got fired over a teletype machine. The old
machine had bells to tell you how important a story crossing the wire was. When Vice President Spiro Agnew’s resignation crossed the wire, the machine sounded four bells.
Having never heard four bells I rushed to see what was being transmitted. When
I saw the news I let out a hoot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My boss, unfortunately, was a died-in-the-wool Republican. He
was not amused.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also got into trouble with a phony story I cooked up with
another reporter on one of the first generation newsroom computers… but I’ll save that
tale of nearly career-fatal obscenity for another time. Our pioneering
mini-computer system was fragile, to say the least. One morning I was picking
out my readheaded Afro in front of the screen and the static electricity turned
everything to Zs, including the page I had spent an hour building.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later, as computers moved to the desktop, I bought an early IBM PC to be able to transmit stories to New
York without having to go through the rigmarole of Western Union. The first day
the $3,000 machine was on my desk at home I got frustrated because I couldn’t get the dial-up
modem to work. Not that I knew what a dial up modem was. I just knew the damned thing would not connect to New York, or any place else. I went to the bookstore and got a book on Basic thinking something must be wrong with the
programming. Within a half-day of freeing the computer from the box, I had done
something irreparable to the system. From that day until the day I finally retired
the machine six years later, the second message on the screen <i>every </i>time it booted up read: “Unrecognized
command in config system.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I don't know to this day what that message actually means, but to me it says, <i>"Think before you tinker, you idiot."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, now, I am to be turned loose with a drone to do my
reporting. All day I’ve been trying to figure out how I would use it -- as
the Kansas City <i>Star </i>writers put it – to tell stories. I assume the primary use for the Lofflin-Bot will be research, not actually storytelling. I
can’t see the advantage of hovering it over the keyboard, but, with technology, you never know. Maybe it could watch me type and edit my work in real time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I <i>can</i> see how it might be good for interviewing. I could sit
home in my pajamas and interview over the phone while sending the L-Bot through
the door of the subject’s workplace to provide environmental elements for the lede.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or, in the case of a corporate interview, the L-Bot could be
unleashed to read the notes the PR guy is slipping to the CEO while he's talking to me on
the phone. Intriguing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, I understand I couldn't send it into the women’s
shower at the health club, but if I turned off the video couldn't I use it to eavesdrop on women
council members in the powder room? Some interesting ethical issues arise. In some cities, three or four women council members might actually be a quorum and, thus, a meeting. Sunshine laws might apply.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I like the idea of sending L-Bot to city council and school board meetings instead of young reporters who are easily bored and eternally distracted. L-Bot suffers neither malady and, when the council or the board decides to hide out in executive session L-Bot might well slip through the door in pursuit of government transparency. I can see the headline: <b><i>"From bathroom to backroom, we seek the truth."</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can see how useful it would be to cover fires. Ernest
Hemmingway complained in a letter to his brother at the turn of the last
century that covering a Kansas City fire had put holes in his cashmere overcoat
and the <i>Star</i> had been too cheap to
pay for the damage. Always be ready for the worst, he warned. The L-Bot,
naturally, will eliminate this danger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Speaking of heat, next time the temperature tops 110-degrees and we need to
send someone out to fry an egg on the sidewalk – I did, actually, try this once and to no avail – we’ll send L-Bot instead and stay cool in the newsroom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<i>Note to students</i>: Be warned. We’ll have a 10-point piloting quiz
on Monday. I won’t be there, however. The university has decided to jump right
into the unmanned classroom craze. Don’t be late because L-Bot will only call
roll once.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin – wondering after watching a few minutes of the ACM awards on television tonight, what the C stands for.<o:p></o:p></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-39073652842196952392013-03-31T13:00:00.001-05:002013-04-01T12:03:24.520-05:00OK, a ray of hope on Opening Day in KC: My wife didn't give me up for lent, the Royals might be kinda good, and the Weather Braintrust has taken snow out of the forecast... for now<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">It would be macabre</span></b> if it were anyone else – any other
couple – in any other city. But in Kansas City, it seems somehow natural that
Ewing and Muriel Kauffman would build their own graveyard in the middle of the
city, plant it to 7,000 varieties of flowers, herbs, trees and scrubs – from lemon
trees to orchids – then open it to the public and one very fat cat…. of the pure
feline variety.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So it is with Kauffman Gardens on the east end of the
Country Club Plaza in a fine green space the city has somehow managed to
preserve smack between the two ends of its economic spectrum. Well… it wasn’t
the city who preserved this green space, it was Mr. Kauffman – the same way he preserved
baseball here. Except for the pests – wedding photographers mostly – his garden
has turned into a peaceful oasis for city dwellers to collect thoughts, lament
the end of the summer of green and growth, and, especially, to welcome the
rebirth of spring.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which is why I was there in mid-March with a film camera and
a hopeful heart. Hopeful, for one, the snows were over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope soon, and dramatically, dashed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was also there hopeful about the prospects for Mr.
Kauffman’s home nine. <i>Every</i> city is
hopeful for the home nine in spring – visions of pennants spring to mind like
crocuses in the backyard. But, in this city, at least, hope is always tempered
by reality. In my case, hope is always tempered by the reality of rooting for
the home nine since the mid-1950s. If you look at the history of baseball in
Kansas City across that half-century, you understand why tempered takes on the
full meaning a blacksmith would apply. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The combined wins for the Kansas City A’s and the Kansas
City Royals since 1955 total 4,182, stacked against 4,860 losses. That’s a
winning percentage of just .462, which would be the lowest winning percentage
of any team in the era if the names hadn't changed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a friend who became an atheist for two reasons.
First, in high school, his best friend gave him up for lent. And, second, when
he was younger yet, he prayed in church every Sunday morning across the summer
the home nine would win the afternoon doubleheader and they usually dropped
both games. He came to the conclusion there could be no God.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I don’t come by baseball hope easily or in quantity. Yet,
on this trip to the Gardens I found myself standing at the foot of Mr. Kauffman’s
grave, which is tucked in around a corner nearly hidden in summer by trailing
vines, speaking words that even surprised me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mostly, I have stood there in September and apologized. “I’m
sorry, Mr. Kauffman. This season was horrible. I’m glad you can’t see what they've done to your team. The brain trust… I can’t really explain except to say it’s
obvious they don’t give a damn… they only want to do just enough to make a
profit.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Something like that with variations, and I’m reluctant to
admit on Easter morning, obscenities.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this March, I stood at the feet of the great man and couldn't believe my ears. “Maybe," I said, "just maybe, I have something good to
report. This spring, there may be hope. They may just have figured this out.
Time will tell, but I’m thinking they could be pretty good this year. There are a lot of ifs…<i> but it’s possible
they could actually be kinda good.”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Embarrassed by this outburst and thankful no one other than
my extremely tolerant bride could hear, I moved on quickly. But as I finished
the first aisle, I silently went over all the caveats – the third baseman and
first baseman have to prove they are what the scouts think they are, the
centerfielder has to stay healthy and prove he can hit the curveball, something
surprising has to happen in right field … The pitching has to be way better
than its collective history... the second basemen-- … I’ve been through <a href="http://henrywiggen.blogspot.com/2013/02/pray-theyre-wrong-about-snow-and-right.html">all of this before</a>. But I didn't want to
bother the great man with caveats. It was after all, the first week of spring
and more snow was just a rumor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here is an image of some orchids at the Gardens from a visit last summer for your reading pleasure:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGRgd9DDumKuoSBFPjLWyMQJbiNstedpiq6yU9UlDo4yJHQQiEp6fiI-jdVdz1qKqTLLwGvieEnGkUCc3-Gsp9mFOB9VIeMQY1s5-EFj9gyBQG3_E88py0BpKH2YupLOFyOyLn37FFOWl/s1600/orchids+film+silk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGRgd9DDumKuoSBFPjLWyMQJbiNstedpiq6yU9UlDo4yJHQQiEp6fiI-jdVdz1qKqTLLwGvieEnGkUCc3-Gsp9mFOB9VIeMQY1s5-EFj9gyBQG3_E88py0BpKH2YupLOFyOyLn37FFOWl/s400/orchids+film+silk.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Lofflin 2012</b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-20268568001434968372013-03-29T11:41:00.004-05:002013-03-29T14:17:07.300-05:00I don't give a damn about the weather; spring has sprung... just listen to it<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I remember the day</span></b> my wife gave me cardinals. Not the St. Louis Cardinals. Not a St. Louis Cardinals' baseball cap. Not even a single cardinal held captive in a bird cage.<br />
<br />
Cardinals, plural. All cardinals. Forever.<br />
<br />
That was the day she gave me the words to their song. Pretty...pretty...pretty....pretty...<br />
<br />
That's all. Just the words. Since then, I've owned them. Thing is, they were always there. I just didn't know it. They were just part of the static of the city, along with the dump trucks, police sirens, tree saws, car doors banging, kids squealing, and the ringing in my ears.<br />
<br />
Now, at this moment, I hear them as clearly as if they are calling my name. And, I'm ready. Ready to fly. Ready to put this long late winter to rest.<br />
<br />
--LofflinJohn Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-7987534838080469202013-03-25T21:20:00.000-05:002013-03-25T21:20:10.235-05:00MatchupsJust like most Royals fans, I've had my doubts about General Manager Dayton Moore's decision to send super prospect Wil Myers and a few others packing for starter James Shields and a few others. But today I saw something that gave me a better snapshot of how Moore's purpose this offseason - to build a <i>pitching rotation -</i> should make the team a whole lot better.<br />
<br />
And I believe he has done that. Today I saw the potential matchups for the Royals' first three games this season. The Royals open up the year on the road against the Chicago White Sox, a team that has been a consistent contender for most of the past decade. This year should be no exception.<br />
<br />
But you know what? When it comes to starting pitchers, the Royals are just as good, if not a little better, than the Sox. And that's something we haven't been able to say for a while. Let's take a look at the probable matchups for the Royals' first three games this season, as well as who started the first three games for the Royals just one year ago:<br />
<br />
<b>Game 1, April 1, 2013</b><br />
Royals: James Shields<br />
White Sox: Chris Sale<br />
<i>Last year's Game 1 starter for Kansas City: Bruce Chen</i><br />
<br />
This is a matchup of Shields, the Royals' centerpiece offseason acquisition and a perennial Cy Young contender, versus Sale, a young starter who had a great year last season but still has a lot to prove. I'll take Shields any day of the week. Chen, last year's Game 1 starter, is now the No. 5 starter for the team. That's pretty telling.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Game 2, April 3, 2013</b><br />
Royals: Ervin Santana<br />
White Sox: Jake Peavy<br />
<i>Last year's Game 2 starter for Kansas City: Luke Hochevar</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
Striking similarities between these two starters: Both Santana and Peavy were once viewed as among the best pitchers in the league and with huge upside. But both fell on hard times and a couple difficult seasons. Peavy had a better season last year, so I'll give him the edge here. But I like Santana, and I'm excited to see him pitch for the Royals this year. Last year's Game 2 starter is nothing short of a laughing stock in KC and has been relegated to bullpen duty this year. Meanwhile, the Royals appear to be doing everything they can to get rid of Hochevar through a trade (but of course, nobody else wants him).<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Game 3, April 4, 2013</b><br />
Royals: Jeremy Guthrie<br />
White Sox: Gavin Floyd<br />
<i>Last year's Game 3 starter for Kansas City: Jonathan Freakin' Sanchez</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<br />
After bouncing between the majors and the minors earlier in his career, Gavin Floyd has been a fairly reliable starter for the White Sox the last couple years. But if Guthrie can even come close to matching his success with the Royals last year - after he was traded from Colorado for Sanchez - then the Royals will have a terrific No. 3 starter. Sanchez was just plain awful for Kansas City last year and ended up on the D.L. before long for Colorado. (Ironically, Sanchez won his first game for the Royals in 2012 against the Angels. Their starter in that game? Ervin Santana.)<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
After those three, the Royals still have Wade Davis and Bruce Chen to follow up. Davis could be a starter on just about any team in the league. And Chen? Well, the good news is, Felipe Paulino and Danny Duffy will probably be battling to replace him after they recover from Tommy John surgery come this summer.<br />
<br />
Seven days until Opening Day!Matt Kelseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07167575805423190445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-66680817681670121052013-03-18T12:45:00.001-05:002013-03-18T13:01:59.667-05:00Make Puerto Rico the 51st state now so Americans can cheer the finals of the World Baseball Classic tomorrow, and Americans can remain exceptional<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlmVy5jOvRiCgJSY_1YzX3CQQ5hqTGP6xV6MzsEBg5A7tULEUz19KEOAaeJjJnpUOYSvyO2RAVJHKC1PMCXOfbjFBb9mV_cBUUoUX8EE3ykY8wh91WmEMlCiQIX-NUycrYwk1YFQ9t0Tx/s1600/puerto+rico.jpe" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlmVy5jOvRiCgJSY_1YzX3CQQ5hqTGP6xV6MzsEBg5A7tULEUz19KEOAaeJjJnpUOYSvyO2RAVJHKC1PMCXOfbjFBb9mV_cBUUoUX8EE3ykY8wh91WmEMlCiQIX-NUycrYwk1YFQ9t0Tx/s320/puerto+rico.jpe" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Time has come</b></span><br />
to make Puerto Rico <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2012/12/05/politics/puerto-rico-statehood">the 51st state</a>, whether<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/11/08/puerto-rico-state-reasons-will-not-become-51st-state_n_2095366.html#slide=1739512"> the Puerto Ricans like it</a> or not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, of course, we could say USA baseball is still alive in
the World Baseball Classic. USA baseball, would, in fact, be preparing for the
world finals tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead… Well, the millionaire USA baseball players are back
to their Grapefruit and Cactus Leagues, preparing for another high-priced
season.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, you argue, Puerto Rico’s baseball team <i>is</i> American baseball. And, in a way, you
are right. Many of Puerto Rico’s players are Major League ballplayers; some are even big time stars of American baseball. They may not be Americans by citizenship – though some
are – but they are Americans by paycheck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you buy the paycheck argument, you can rest easy because
American baseball beat Japanese baseball yesterday. The Japanese nine sported
no American major league players.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What a relief, eh? After the ‘pure’ major league team was
ousted in the semi-finals, it is nice to know a team of American major leaguers
– not, perhaps, the white bread players you had in mind, unfortunately – but major
leaguers nonetheless – beat the Japanese.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This World Baseball Classic is tough on American chauvinists.
We grasp at straws.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The world, our times, our reality, is kind of hard these days
on American Exceptionalism. I grew up with this idea. It was everywhere –
books, movies, television, the stories your father told. It was Cold War
driven, but its roots were much, much older… in fact as old as the republic.
And the idea wasn’t always the exclusive province of Sarah Palin conservatives.
It was in the poetry of Carl Sandburg and the music of Woody Guthrie. It was
deep seated in the notion of ‘The People.’<i> The People</i>, who despite their crude, often uneducated, always rebellious ways, knew more than the snot nose
aristocracy, worked harder, and always prevailed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, the aristocracy was never – until very recently – the object
of American exceptionalism. It was an idea reserved for "The People." It took
Palin and Rove and the other conservatives to contort it to include the likes
of Trump and Goldman Sachs. They managed to twist the idea into the view that doing anything to limit the excesses of American Millionaires and Billionaires was tantamount to limiting American Exceptionalism. Maybe the millionaire American ballplayers fit that new idea of American exceptionalism – if someone is willing to pay you
$100-plus million dollars to play the game you must be exceptional. How
could you possibly be out-hit by the relatively impoverished Italians or
out-pitched by minor league, or never-been, Puerto Ricans?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, here we are, baseball once again a mirror for the
reality of its times. But I think for tonight and tomorrow night, I’ll put
these silly political ideas away and just enjoy this fascinating <i>world </i>of
baseball, in the broadest sense of the word. The passion of the World players
in infectious; it is the polar opposite of the American millionaires going
through the paces wrapped in cotton by their corporate owners, in the lackadaisical
sun of spring training. There, winning is meaningless. In San Francisco tonight
and tomorrow night, winning will be everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin<o:p></o:p></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-66033506955243521142013-03-09T12:07:00.001-06:002013-03-10T21:14:12.164-05:00The US squeezes into the second round of the World Baseball Classic begging the question: Is our World Series really a 'world' series? or is it a presumptuous public relations gimmick?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOm7GBAc1hAr1FhDItFKUgeBj-_icgX0syhYBvcIm2KNlYRfRsWrGXx73G7Q_z1Jz4IZXZHw4yXeV_WduZgFk7otwjcDP9uWmmlgcF5Xlmt-KzYxxQIDt35eQacDCqQPtB5x_8skDnci_/s1600/wbc_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVOm7GBAc1hAr1FhDItFKUgeBj-_icgX0syhYBvcIm2KNlYRfRsWrGXx73G7Q_z1Jz4IZXZHw4yXeV_WduZgFk7otwjcDP9uWmmlgcF5Xlmt-KzYxxQIDt35eQacDCqQPtB5x_8skDnci_/s200/wbc_300.jpg" width="190" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Win or lose,</span></b> the World Baseball Classic begs the question: Do Americans still play the best baseball on the planet -- or do they just play the most expensive?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Let me lead off here with a caveat. I do not root for the home team in the World Baseball Classic. I tend to root for Cuba because Cuba is the biggest underdog in the world. Not the biggest baseball underdog, by any means, but certainly the biggest political underdog. This tiny country, hidden in our massive shadow, has suffered under terrible sanctions since 1960. That's 53 years of Cold War retribution, because any notion that sanctions lead to regime change have certainly been wiped away by Cuban history. Why a 53-year blockade? The best answer anyone can mount is that the Cuban economic system is socialist and the government has a record of cruelty to its own citizens. Seems to me we have a few major trading partners, at whose feet we tend to genuflect, who sport the same attributes but against whom sanctions are unthinkable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
A knee-jerk political action 53 years ago, in the midst of the 'Cuban Spring,' has persisted through several enlightened presidents who simply did not have the guts to stand up and say Basta!<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span>The Cubans are more like us than different. Nowhere is this reality more evident than between the white lines of a baseball field. How crazy, how out-of-date, how far from reality, are these sanctions? Think of the Cuban Democracy Act this way: Imagine black Americans are still banned, in 2013, from Major League Baseball.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If that were the case, the whole world would look on Americans as idiots.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
OK, I didn't intend a political rant. I root for the Cubans because they're underdogs and because they play a stylish brand of baseball. I also root for the Netherlands because in baseball they're even greater underdogs. When the Cubans play the Netherlanders Monday morning at 5 a.m., I'll root for the Netherlanders. It's a simple calculus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Back to the World Baseball Classic where the home team took a terrible drubbing at the hands of the Mexican team Friday which created much hand-wringing among self-identified patriots. If Ryan Braun and company had lost to the miraculous Italians Saturday, they would have been back to their Grapefruit and Cactus League games tomorrow. But they pulled out the Italian game on one swing of the bat Saturday and finally took the lead over Canada in the eighth Sunday. The television talker wondered aloud why so many teams had given up on the Canadian pitchers, since the big league "all-stars" were handcuffed by them most of the night. He was watching American all-stars handcuffed by 10-year minor league pitchers -- at best. The Americans (North, that is) have not won the World Baseball Classic in two tries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Don't bring the argument in here about how the Classic happens at an awkward time for American baseball players. If they wanted to win, they'd have started conditioning earlier and brought their A-games to field of play. So far, they haven't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
And don't even think about arguing this isn't a <i>real </i>all-star team. First of all, a real all-star team would consist of many players on other World Baseball squads. Second, and this is what boggles the mind, these players are drawn from an enormous pool of talent -- talent paid in multiples of millions in major league cities and future millionaire prospects in minor league cities. The chauvinist in me asks, how can they <i>not </i>dominate the World Baseball Classic?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Look at the competition. World teams are cobbled together from current major leaguers, former major leaguers, major league nevers, players from major leagues around the globe, players from industrial leagues, minor league prospects, local heroes, and comeback hopefuls. In some places they are just learning the game. I read a comment from a coach in the Netherlands who said when he first handed a baseball to a kid on a practice field, the kid dropped the ball on the ground and kicked it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Either they want it more, their style of play is better suited to winning, or... they're better players.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
All three of which lead to the inevitable question. Is the World Series really a <i>world </i>series or it is a public relations gimmick? Is it really a <i>world </i>series, or is it a pretension, a big fat presumption born of 1900s ethnocentrism which has persisted, like the Cuban Democracy Act of 1960, well past the time when it made sense, if it ever made sense?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Let's just call our end-of-the-season tournament the Fall Classic and get everything back into perspective. A <i>World </i>Series it obviously is not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
--Lofflin</span>John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-58368418050211640932013-03-03T12:50:00.002-06:002013-03-03T12:54:06.478-06:00Open Letter to Bill James... because I don't have his address and need to know a number<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dear Mr. James,</span></b><br />
<br />
As a fan and a player fifty years past his prime, I'm looking for a stat I haven't seen before.<br />
<br />
I understand the problems with Runs-Batted-In as a measure of a hitter. The arbitrariness of it is obvious, especially if you are blessed with a home team that doesn't get on base a lot, doesn't advance runners, doesn't steal bases consistently, doesn't hit and run and frequently stumbles rounding the bag at third.<br />
<br />
As a player, I'm always looking for ways to keep track of value to the team. When you get to my age, you worry about just taking up space.<br />
<br />
When I come to the plate and see a couple of fifty-five year old runners on base, I feel an innate duty to get a hit.<br />
<br />
So, what I want to know about a player is what <i>proportion </i>of the time he contributes a hit in that situation.<br />
<br />
This seems like a better way to get at the value earlier generations sought in runs-batted-in. And, it seems like an essential test of a hitter. We know the negative value of an out in this circumstance. The outcome statistics seem to capture that. And, we know the positive value of a hit.<br />
<br />
So, I'm looking for individual values related to this. Phrased as questions: What is the correlation between batting average and hits with runners on? If the two correlate -- which my guess is they should -- are some players more likely than their batting averages suggest to get a hit with runners on base? And, are some less likely? It seems to me this is something good to know and for an individual player to track.<br />
<br />
Along with on-base-percentage, how often a player contributes a hit with runners on base seems like a good measure of value to wins while eliminating the complicating factor of how clumsy those runners are. And, since hits contribute slightly more than walks, this seems like a better measure of value.<br />
<br />
I put my friend, sabremagician <a href="http://kingsofkauffman.com/2013/02/27/a-new-storyline-emerges-james-shields-and-his-old-school-soul/">Kevin Scobee</a>, on it. He said go to <span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.fangraphs.com/"> FanGraphs.com</a></span>, but be aware you might never come out. I know what he means because I heard a Fangraphs guy talk at a conference put on by <i>I-70 Baseball</i>'s Bill Ivy once and my head was spinning for days.<br />
<br />
But, I thought, why not just go to the well. So, I am.<br />
<br />
--Lofflin<br />
<br />
<br />
By the way: I played tabletop baseball at The Ballpark on Iowa Street in Lawrence in the late 1960s and early 1970s. You were probably there one of those long afternoons, right?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-29575112270607214882013-02-25T11:06:00.001-06:002013-02-25T11:20:41.754-06:00Pray they're wrong about the snow and right about the Royals... A sober look on a snowy day at the Burpee catalogue and the Royals in 2013...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">With more snow</span></b> on the way thoughts naturally turn to spring
and baseball. The second question most people ask after, “Have you ever seen anything like this snow?”
is “How do you think the Royals will do this year?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, it’s February, spring training has just begun, so
the question is full of hope. It’s part
of the rhythm of our lives, the way humans have learned to cope with the
seasons, as long as they insist on populating these ridiculous climates. It’s
the same with gardening. You look in the seed catalogue and all you see is
potential.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Burpee Ultra Big Boy. Yields bushels of 8 to 10-pound
redder-than-red fruits with tender flesh, all meat, no seeds, perfect for
slicing, canning, cooking, salads, salsa… stores for months… disease resistant,
deer resistant, cat resistant, heat resistant, snow resistant, never needs
water… utterly foolproof.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You pore over the seed catalogue in February and all you see
is potential. You don’t see wilt or bugs or drought, or your own inability to
control the urge to water, water, water. You don’t see the weeds, the dead
plants, the bottom end rot. You see bushels of 10-pound ultra tomatoes and big
flat slices on big fat hamburger patties.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s the same with baseball in February. All Aristotelian
potential.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Royals? Well, let me offer a simple, sober, admittedly one-dimensional, analysis of
the situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baseball is a hard game. It’s every bit as hard as growing
Rutgers tomatoes through a Kansas City summer. Because its statistics are
accumulated across a huge number of events, and because the game is so
difficult, its numbers are pretty consistent, pretty sober, indicators.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We don’t like to think of life in these terms. We like the
idea of improvement. We like to imagine a breakthrough is just around the corner
for us, just 100 more situps away. We like to believe – we have to believe –
this will be the summer the garden flourishes, the tomatoes are all perfect,
the beans don’t dry up, the squash bugs don’t appear.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I’d say in a nutshell the Royals of 2013 are all
potential. In baseball, that ain’t ever good because the numbers rarely lie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To be competitive, the Royals need their first baseman,
third baseman, second baseman, centerfielder and right fielder to hit
significantly better than they did in 2012. Significantly better. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the case of the
right fielder and the second baseman, two of the five potentials, that would
mean accomplishing something their significantly large body of work suggests is
out of reach. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because the first and third baseman have logged far fewer
at-bats, their respective ceilings are pure speculation. Scouts think their
ceilings are pretty high. For the Royals to be competitive this summer, the
scouts will have to be right and the two players will have to accomplish
breakout years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The center fielder is a question mark because both his small
body of work and the scouting reports are modest in their estimates. And, he
will have to stay healthy, which is the one worrisome trait emerging from his brief time
in the major leagues. So, three of the five will have to realize a good deal of
their potential <i> right now</i> for the team
to be competitive and the other two will have to cheat their numbers and accomplish something logic says is out of reach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the real estate business, you’d say that’s a lot of blue
sky.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: blue;"><b>Here’s one way to look at it. For those five key players to
each hit .300, they’d have to raise their collective batting average 250
points, an average of 50 points each. That’s a lot of blue sky.</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, two players, the shortstop and the catcher, will have
to <i>maintain </i>a high level of play from last season for the Royals to be
competitive. Their respective bodies of work are also brief; it is difficult to
know if last season was indicative of their skills or not. For the team to be successful, you have to
hope last season was not an anomaly for either. Can the catcher hit .301 again
and the shortstop hit .293?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The shortstop has close to 2,000 plate appearances across
five years and his cumulative batting average is .263. He would need to play
roughly 40 points above that to produce the same season. The catcher has less
than 500 major league at-bats but his average is .311. <i>Chalk </i>him in. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of the seven unproven key players, only one appears a solid
bet to produce competitive numbers based on history.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The left fielder and the designated hitter have a pretty large
body of work and they played about even with it last year. They are the only
two of the nine everyday players you can <i>pencil </i>in for 2013. The left fielder
will probably hit in the neighborhood of .280 or .290 with a decent slugging
percentage and generally good production. The designated hitter, the only other
proven major league player of the nine, will hit once in every three at-bats,
show significant power to the alleys, show a high slugging percentage and
ground into more double-plays than most fans like.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact, if fans had their way, he’d have been traded years
ago. Think about it. The only legitimate all-star, the only everyday player on
the team likely to be a starter on any actual first division club in the major
leagues, would have been traded by fans long before now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, if you look at the coming season from a sober
perspective, you realize this spring, hope indeed springs eternal in the Royals’
breast. This is, perhaps, the most hopeful team in baseball. And, I guess I’m about
as hopeful about a playoff spot in 2013 as I am the weather scientists are
wrong about today’s big snowstorm.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then again, if Major League Baseball has its way, we’ll
eventually see three-fourths of its teams in every division in the playoffs every September. I
say September because that’s when the playoffs will have to start. It works for
the NBA, you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4413758965958565043.post-37512699722959094162013-02-22T10:56:00.001-06:002013-02-22T13:41:53.418-06:00Peace and quiet, even in the city, a good reason to enjoy 12 inches of snow... the great ice storm of 2002 reminds us peace and quiet are not the same thing and at least trigger fingers were also stilled<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Cutting through</span></b> this white fog of silence, a cardinal. In
the frozen tree by the window, he sings crisp notes of love or territory, but
with less joy than a week ago when the temperature was sixty degrees. Today, it
is twenty degrees and yesterday’s snow is piled up a foot deep beneath a gray
sky lit by weak morning sun, hidden but luminous, so the world below feels like the
inside of a fish bowl. The big burr oak and the bleached white sycamore stand nearly motionless, swaying only slightly in the sky. The blue spruce is heavy with
snow, globs of it, caught in the branches top to bottom. A single junco ventures out on the blue spruce mountain peak scratching for berries.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here, in the middle of the city, dead silence. The hum of traffic
is gone. For now, no fire engines or ambulances. No small jets or propeller
planes roaring overhead in landing patterns aimed at the old airport by the
river. No police helicopters or rescue helicopters bound for the hospital
chopping up the air. No dogs and no children. No trash trucks grumbling. Not
even shovels scraping driveways and sidewalks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The city will wake soon. A city can stand silence only so
long. I’ll do the same eventually, lace up boots, pull on long underwear and
heavy coat, push open the back door and take the handle of the snow shovel
leaning next to it against the house. I’ll be out there soon enough, pushing
snow, clearing a path down the brick sidewalk to the car, then clearing the
driveway and uncovering the car – though I have no plans to go anywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning is a bit like the morning in 2002 after the great
ice storm. That morning broke just as quiet, but not so peaceful. Peaceful and
quiet are not the same. That morning a large sycamore lay sprawled across the
icy grass of the front yard. Power was off and no telling when it would come
back on. The house was cold and getting colder. Menace has been in the air the
night before. Electrical transformers were exploding – a blast of lightning in the sky then the sound of a gunshot. Fire engines and ambulances were background noise deep into the night. More frightening was the sound of trees cracking ominously in the wind then the distant rushing noise as they crumbled in long gusts to the ground. Then, suddenly, not in the
distance but in the front yard and loud as a freight train.Nothing you could call sleep arrived
even into the early hours.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was quiet that morning, not even the sound of the furnace
coming on, but it was not peaceful. And, yet, even in the aftermath, the morning was
strangely beautiful, brilliant sun, deep blue sky, everything, every branch,
every rail, every sidewalk, every blade of grass, shimmering in ice lit from
behind. And, then, the tree saws started their incessant growling up and down
the block.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning broke with both peace and quiet. Ah… there…
the first shovel scrape. Humans have arrived, their natural urge to go, to
move, to dominate nature – <i>even if there
is nowhere to go to</i> – has won. More scrapes. Now the sound of a spinning
motor and, of course, the sound of spinning tires. The digging out has begun
and the quiet is gone. The quiet is gone, but not the snow.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
And, for at least one day, the people of Kansas City seemed at peace with each other. The last report on the Kansas City <i>Star's </i>homicide page was three days and two hours ago. When the headlines describe the snowstorm of 2013 as fierce, brutal, dangerous, and paralyzing, and the reports scream that everything from airports to highways are closed, take comfort. Apparently, Kansas City's itchy trigger fingers were also paralyzed -- at least for a few hours.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
--Lofflin</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
John Lofflinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15278336968891726815noreply@blogger.com2