Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Forty-Three: Melvin Mora, Colorado Rockies
Today we had it out. They refused to clean their rooms once again, and then they wanted to turn the living room into a third play area. I said no. They pouted. And on it went.
I get little help on the cleaning front because my wife believes our two girls need to take ownership over their own rooms. If they don’t want to clean, she says, then let them deal with the consequences themselves. I have just a wee bit of obsessive-compulsiveness within me, so I cringe when I see the clothes strewn about and the emptied bins of American Girl doll clothes all over the floor. I often give in and clean the rooms myself, which only serves to enable the thing I’m trying to change.
So what is a father to do? How do you make it through the moments when two kids seem like two more than you can handle?
You think of Melvin Mora, that’s what you do. The Colorado Rockies third baseman, now in his 12th season as a major-leaguer, is the father of 9-year-old quintuplets. I am sure that this man’s home features a frenzy of activity the likes of which I have never seen. If I’m going to stress out over two messy rooms, I can only imagine what it’s like for a father of five active fourth-graders. I would imagine that you learn to put things like dirty socks into perspective. You choose instead to check on how everyone is feeling today, and if the homework’s been completed, and if everybody has eaten. You spend some time playing and talking with your kids, and you listen to them tell you about their classes and friends and sports teams. Cleaning up, I would think, falls a bit lower on the list.
At age 38, Melvin Mora is near the end of a successful career that has seen him collect nearly 1,500 hits while playing various infield and outfield positions for the New York Mets, Baltimore Orioles, and Colorado Rockies. Mora’s quintuplets weren’t born yet when he appeared in the playoffs for the first and only time, with the 1999 Mets. This year, Mora has been a backup for the Rockies, but he has started nearly every day since starting third baseman Ian Stewart went down with an injury a couple of weeks ago. And during Mora’s time in the lineup, the Rockies have become baseball’s hottest team, winning 10 straight games and pulling to within 1½ games of the National League West division lead. If the red-hot Rockies keep it up, perhaps the Mora Five will have the chance to see their dad play in the postseason, after all.
There’s probably very little time for cleaning in the Mora household these days, other than all the sweeping that Dad’s team has been doing at the expense of other baseball teams. It’s a busy time of year, what with school starting and pennant races running full-tilt. It’s the kind of bustle that leaves kids to take care of their own rooms.
After all, the American Girl doll clothes won’t destroy the house. And, when you least expect it, they will clean. They are your kids, and you’ve raised them well. Take a breath, Dad. Watch a ballgame. Check out those Rockies.
Showing posts with label Colorado Rockies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colorado Rockies. Show all posts
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
No Doggin' It (One Sixty-Two: Day 117)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Seventeen: Carlos Gonzalez, Colorado Rockies
I paid my fine today. Five dollars to the library, for a lost magazine.
Only it wasn’t lost. This copy of The Writer was, in fact, eaten – partially, at least. A bite-size chunk of pages 1-10 was taken out of the periodical by an 8-month-old dog who happens to live in our house. Whenever Daisy finds herself full of energy yet devoid of others’ attention, she looks around for some mischief to munch on. Typically, she searches for tissues or pieces of paper. At my parents’ house, this habit hit a new high (or low) when she devoured my mom’s $200 mouthpiece. When you catch her in the act, Daisy lowers her head and ducks beneath the nearest piece of furniture. She may not have complete self-control yet, but she does have an idea of what guilt feels like.
These are the dog days of summer. And while some of us have actual dogs searching for ways to spice up these days, even those without a frisky canine share an understanding of what this time of year means. The Romans created this title in reference to the proximity of Sirius, also known as the Dog Star, to the sun during these warm summer days. They figured this shift in the constellation was the reason for all the hot weather and unpredictable behavior July and August would bring. In today’s world, we tend to connect this seasonal nickname with metaphors: It is in August, for instance, when we’re most likely to “dog it,” and move about at a slower, more lethargic pace. In a particularly warm summer such as this one, this is often true.
In baseball, the dog days bring with them summer’s fiercest grind. As the season begins its final 45 games, players find themselves handling yet another 90-degree day, another nine-inning game, and another nine-pitch at-bat. It can be difficult to keep the focus and momentum going. Yet, when you’re trying to stay in a pennant race, that focus is essential.
Carlos Gonzalez has had a long season as the Colorado Rockies’ versatile starting outfielder. His team is struggling to remain in the National League West divisional hunt, but Gonzalez is fighting against the drain of mid-August. Instead of slumping through the dog days, Gonzalez has taken his own bite out of the magazine, grabbing fans’ attention with an MVP-caliber season. So far, Gonzalez has belted 25 home runs, driven in nearly 80 runs, stolen almost 20 and hit for an average above .320. He leads the National League in hits, and is second in total bases. Gonzalez, along with fellow National Leaguers Joey Votto of the Reds and Albert Pujols of the Cardinals, is making a serious run at winning the first Triple Crown in 43 years (that’s leading the league in homers, RBI and batting average).
Three years ago, as the dog days turned toward September, the Rockies put together an astounding string of victories that led them all the way to the World Series. It’s not too late for that to happen again in 2010. But if history is to repeat itself, Carlos Gonzalez may have to lead the way. If he does, he’ll clearly be Denver’s top dog, and its biggest star. That’s Sirius stuff. Enough to push a player through the grind.
Day One Hundred Seventeen: Carlos Gonzalez, Colorado Rockies
I paid my fine today. Five dollars to the library, for a lost magazine.
Only it wasn’t lost. This copy of The Writer was, in fact, eaten – partially, at least. A bite-size chunk of pages 1-10 was taken out of the periodical by an 8-month-old dog who happens to live in our house. Whenever Daisy finds herself full of energy yet devoid of others’ attention, she looks around for some mischief to munch on. Typically, she searches for tissues or pieces of paper. At my parents’ house, this habit hit a new high (or low) when she devoured my mom’s $200 mouthpiece. When you catch her in the act, Daisy lowers her head and ducks beneath the nearest piece of furniture. She may not have complete self-control yet, but she does have an idea of what guilt feels like.
These are the dog days of summer. And while some of us have actual dogs searching for ways to spice up these days, even those without a frisky canine share an understanding of what this time of year means. The Romans created this title in reference to the proximity of Sirius, also known as the Dog Star, to the sun during these warm summer days. They figured this shift in the constellation was the reason for all the hot weather and unpredictable behavior July and August would bring. In today’s world, we tend to connect this seasonal nickname with metaphors: It is in August, for instance, when we’re most likely to “dog it,” and move about at a slower, more lethargic pace. In a particularly warm summer such as this one, this is often true.
In baseball, the dog days bring with them summer’s fiercest grind. As the season begins its final 45 games, players find themselves handling yet another 90-degree day, another nine-inning game, and another nine-pitch at-bat. It can be difficult to keep the focus and momentum going. Yet, when you’re trying to stay in a pennant race, that focus is essential.
Carlos Gonzalez has had a long season as the Colorado Rockies’ versatile starting outfielder. His team is struggling to remain in the National League West divisional hunt, but Gonzalez is fighting against the drain of mid-August. Instead of slumping through the dog days, Gonzalez has taken his own bite out of the magazine, grabbing fans’ attention with an MVP-caliber season. So far, Gonzalez has belted 25 home runs, driven in nearly 80 runs, stolen almost 20 and hit for an average above .320. He leads the National League in hits, and is second in total bases. Gonzalez, along with fellow National Leaguers Joey Votto of the Reds and Albert Pujols of the Cardinals, is making a serious run at winning the first Triple Crown in 43 years (that’s leading the league in homers, RBI and batting average).
Three years ago, as the dog days turned toward September, the Rockies put together an astounding string of victories that led them all the way to the World Series. It’s not too late for that to happen again in 2010. But if history is to repeat itself, Carlos Gonzalez may have to lead the way. If he does, he’ll clearly be Denver’s top dog, and its biggest star. That’s Sirius stuff. Enough to push a player through the grind.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Soda Bottles, Ankle Sprains & Pie (One Sixty-Two: Day 104)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred-Four: Chris Coghlan, Florida Marlins
It was a beautiful beach day, but not for me. Not when you’ve got to accompany your wife to the urgent-care center.
Now I understand your instinct here: How in the world can I complain about losing a few hours in the sun when my wife is in need of medical attention? I get that. What you don’t know, however, is the reason for this visit. It has something to do with a bicycle and some empty 2-liter bottles. And it doesn’t get any better from there.
While escorting our kids to a wonderful session at Cape May’s nature center, Amy made a couple of interesting choices: One, she rode her bicycle while wearing Tevas; and two, she rode with a bag full of empty soda bottles. The nature center had asked parents to bring in the bottles for some sort of project, and Amy dutifully obliged. However, while crossing the street with the plastic bag on her handlebars, a bottle started to slip out. She reached for the bag, lost her balance, and caught her foot in the back wheel.
So that led us to a bloody foot, a hobbling wife, and an urgent-care center. After X-rays, the kind doctor explained that Amy’s bloody ankle was sprained, not broken, and a smiling nurse administered a tetanus shot to cover the cuts from Amy’s metal spokes.
I’m grateful that my wife is fine, of course. But as you might have figured out, I’m a bit annoyed by the reason for the injury. In this way, I’m not unlike Florida Marlins manager Edwin Rodriguez, who lost one of his key players last week in an equally bizarre injury. Left fielder Chris Coghlan, who was last season’s National League Rookie of the Year, was celebrating teammate Wes Helms’s game-winning hit on July 25 by giving Helms a pie to the face. While carrying out this increasingly popular baseball ritual, Coghlan managed to tear the meniscus in his left knee. He’s hoping to play again this year, but surgery will be required even if he can play again this summer.
Coghlan is by no means the first baseball player to sustain a strange injury, as there have been a couple of doozies this year alone. Los Angeles Angels first baseman Kendry Morales was lost for the season after breaking his leg while jumping on home plate after a game-winning home run. San Diego Padres pitcher Mat Latos landed on the disabled list after straining an oblique while sneezing.
Clint Barmes knows all about this kind of thing. As a utility infielder for the Colorado Rockies, Barmes has managed to play a key supporting role in the Rockies’ success over the past several years. But in the spring of 2005, Barmes was putting up numbers that exceed anything he’s done since. Some were wondering if he was the next great hitter to come out of Colorado. And then, one spring day, Barmes fell while carrying a package of deer meat he’d received from a teammate. The result: a broken collarbone. After recovering, Barmes returned to the Rockies, but his breakout season was interrupted forever. While carefully handling meat of all kinds these past five years, Barmes has remained a key contributor in Denver.
So this is a man who knows that pies in the face can lead to knee injuries, and that soda bottles can lead to ankle sprains. And if Barmes knew Amy’s husband, he'd remind the man that despite his occasionally cute way with words, the husband has surely experienced an embarrassing injury of some sort; we all do. And he’d be correct. I should know as well as anyone what these kinds of injuries are all about. There was, after all, the finger spliced open with a pocket knife while trying to scrape bark off a tree. There was the hand cut open while trying to catch a glass I’d knocked off a counter. There was the face full of dirt collected after tripping over first base in an attempt to leg out a single (I was out, of course). We can go on - for a disturbingly long time, I might add.
So Amy, I hope you’ll ride safely next time. Maybe you can even try a helmet when you’re on the bike. But I will do whatever chores you need while you recover. And I’ll stop complaining about the lost sun rays. Because I’ve been there and done that, far more often than you have. We all, at some point, get a pie in the face.
Day One Hundred-Four: Chris Coghlan, Florida Marlins
It was a beautiful beach day, but not for me. Not when you’ve got to accompany your wife to the urgent-care center.
Now I understand your instinct here: How in the world can I complain about losing a few hours in the sun when my wife is in need of medical attention? I get that. What you don’t know, however, is the reason for this visit. It has something to do with a bicycle and some empty 2-liter bottles. And it doesn’t get any better from there.
While escorting our kids to a wonderful session at Cape May’s nature center, Amy made a couple of interesting choices: One, she rode her bicycle while wearing Tevas; and two, she rode with a bag full of empty soda bottles. The nature center had asked parents to bring in the bottles for some sort of project, and Amy dutifully obliged. However, while crossing the street with the plastic bag on her handlebars, a bottle started to slip out. She reached for the bag, lost her balance, and caught her foot in the back wheel.
So that led us to a bloody foot, a hobbling wife, and an urgent-care center. After X-rays, the kind doctor explained that Amy’s bloody ankle was sprained, not broken, and a smiling nurse administered a tetanus shot to cover the cuts from Amy’s metal spokes.
I’m grateful that my wife is fine, of course. But as you might have figured out, I’m a bit annoyed by the reason for the injury. In this way, I’m not unlike Florida Marlins manager Edwin Rodriguez, who lost one of his key players last week in an equally bizarre injury. Left fielder Chris Coghlan, who was last season’s National League Rookie of the Year, was celebrating teammate Wes Helms’s game-winning hit on July 25 by giving Helms a pie to the face. While carrying out this increasingly popular baseball ritual, Coghlan managed to tear the meniscus in his left knee. He’s hoping to play again this year, but surgery will be required even if he can play again this summer.
Coghlan is by no means the first baseball player to sustain a strange injury, as there have been a couple of doozies this year alone. Los Angeles Angels first baseman Kendry Morales was lost for the season after breaking his leg while jumping on home plate after a game-winning home run. San Diego Padres pitcher Mat Latos landed on the disabled list after straining an oblique while sneezing.
Clint Barmes knows all about this kind of thing. As a utility infielder for the Colorado Rockies, Barmes has managed to play a key supporting role in the Rockies’ success over the past several years. But in the spring of 2005, Barmes was putting up numbers that exceed anything he’s done since. Some were wondering if he was the next great hitter to come out of Colorado. And then, one spring day, Barmes fell while carrying a package of deer meat he’d received from a teammate. The result: a broken collarbone. After recovering, Barmes returned to the Rockies, but his breakout season was interrupted forever. While carefully handling meat of all kinds these past five years, Barmes has remained a key contributor in Denver.
So this is a man who knows that pies in the face can lead to knee injuries, and that soda bottles can lead to ankle sprains. And if Barmes knew Amy’s husband, he'd remind the man that despite his occasionally cute way with words, the husband has surely experienced an embarrassing injury of some sort; we all do. And he’d be correct. I should know as well as anyone what these kinds of injuries are all about. There was, after all, the finger spliced open with a pocket knife while trying to scrape bark off a tree. There was the hand cut open while trying to catch a glass I’d knocked off a counter. There was the face full of dirt collected after tripping over first base in an attempt to leg out a single (I was out, of course). We can go on - for a disturbingly long time, I might add.
So Amy, I hope you’ll ride safely next time. Maybe you can even try a helmet when you’re on the bike. But I will do whatever chores you need while you recover. And I’ll stop complaining about the lost sun rays. Because I’ve been there and done that, far more often than you have. We all, at some point, get a pie in the face.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Just a Number (One Sixty-Two: Day 87)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Eighty-Seven: Jason Giambi, Colorado Rockies
Yesterday, I hit the halfway point in my final year as a 30-something. There’s no turning back now, like it or not. The age-39 roller coaster is in that moment of uneasy calm between the ominous climb and the terrifying fall.
Oh, it’s not that bad, I know. Forty is just a number. Of course, it didn’t help that my haircutter told me yesterday that she was skipping the step of thinning my hair after the cut, since it appears that the thinning process is now happening naturally. Nice. Thanks, here’s your tip.
So many people fret over 40 because they know that they will probably experience the aging process more distinctly during the next 10 years than they did during any of the previous four decades. There are reasons why most pro athletes retire around this age, if not earlier. And yet, there’s no one saying you can’t look and feel great while also accommodating the changes that will be there. And life in our 40s brings all kinds of exciting moments with family, careers, vacations and community involvement.
It’s just a number; that’s my mantra. Baseball-Reference.com has a list of all the big-league players born in 1971, and it shows that 14 players of that birth year have played in the majors this year. They range from Ivan Rodriguez of the Washington Nationals to Billy Wagner of the Atlanta Braves to Jorge Posada of the New York Yankees. Most of the players who are still around are either veteran catchers, like Rodriguez, Posada or Gregg Zaun of the Milwaukee Brewers, or specialized relief pitchers, like Wagner, Jose Contreras of the Philadelphia Phillies or Ron Mahay of the Minnesota Twins. In fact, there is only one active 1971 baby who doesn’t play either pitcher or catcher.
It’s a bit ironic that this individual is Jason Giambi, now a backup first baseman and pinch-hitter for the Colorado Rockies. For the past six years, Giambi’s name and his overall health have been sports-headline material, much of it related to steroid investigations taking place in and around baseball. The left-handed slugger has experienced severe blows to his reputation and career statistics over these half-dozen years, enough to ensure that his 412 career home runs, .405 career on-base percentage and seven years as a New York Yankee will not be enough to land him in the Hall of Fame. The latter half of Giambi’s career has not been without its highlights – he did, after all, slug 32 or more homers three out of four years from 2005-08 – but his life as a 30-something will always be connected with what-ifs and whys.
And yet, here he is, still suiting up to swing for the playoff contenders in Denver. Come January 8 of next year, Giambi will turn 40. While his career may be winding down, a new decade might provide him with a chance to contribute more positively to baseball, and perhaps to improve his overall reputation in the game. Maybe Giambi will coach a team’s hitters, and give them advice fueled by his own mistakes, successes and incredible batting eye. Perhaps he will find a way to pass along the competitive fire that guided him through those tough at-bats against Pedro Martinez back when the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry was white hot. Or maybe he’ll move away from baseball altogether, and instead help individuals who live their lives outside the white lines.
A few days after Giambi turns 40, I will follow suit. I don’t have a baseball career to look back on, nor have I ever found my name on the back page of the tabloids. That’s OK, actually. I’ll be moving on in my own way, as a teacher, writer, father, husband, son, friend. There’s so much to do, and so much to look forward to, that I wonder if I’ll even have time to count the years. Maybe the real number that matters when you start your fifth decade is 24 – as in the number of hours each day carries in it. If you’re as busy as many of us are at this age, you may find yourself wishing for 40 hours in a day more than you find yourself wishing against 40 candles on a cake.
Day Eighty-Seven: Jason Giambi, Colorado Rockies
Yesterday, I hit the halfway point in my final year as a 30-something. There’s no turning back now, like it or not. The age-39 roller coaster is in that moment of uneasy calm between the ominous climb and the terrifying fall.
Oh, it’s not that bad, I know. Forty is just a number. Of course, it didn’t help that my haircutter told me yesterday that she was skipping the step of thinning my hair after the cut, since it appears that the thinning process is now happening naturally. Nice. Thanks, here’s your tip.
So many people fret over 40 because they know that they will probably experience the aging process more distinctly during the next 10 years than they did during any of the previous four decades. There are reasons why most pro athletes retire around this age, if not earlier. And yet, there’s no one saying you can’t look and feel great while also accommodating the changes that will be there. And life in our 40s brings all kinds of exciting moments with family, careers, vacations and community involvement.
It’s just a number; that’s my mantra. Baseball-Reference.com has a list of all the big-league players born in 1971, and it shows that 14 players of that birth year have played in the majors this year. They range from Ivan Rodriguez of the Washington Nationals to Billy Wagner of the Atlanta Braves to Jorge Posada of the New York Yankees. Most of the players who are still around are either veteran catchers, like Rodriguez, Posada or Gregg Zaun of the Milwaukee Brewers, or specialized relief pitchers, like Wagner, Jose Contreras of the Philadelphia Phillies or Ron Mahay of the Minnesota Twins. In fact, there is only one active 1971 baby who doesn’t play either pitcher or catcher.
It’s a bit ironic that this individual is Jason Giambi, now a backup first baseman and pinch-hitter for the Colorado Rockies. For the past six years, Giambi’s name and his overall health have been sports-headline material, much of it related to steroid investigations taking place in and around baseball. The left-handed slugger has experienced severe blows to his reputation and career statistics over these half-dozen years, enough to ensure that his 412 career home runs, .405 career on-base percentage and seven years as a New York Yankee will not be enough to land him in the Hall of Fame. The latter half of Giambi’s career has not been without its highlights – he did, after all, slug 32 or more homers three out of four years from 2005-08 – but his life as a 30-something will always be connected with what-ifs and whys.
And yet, here he is, still suiting up to swing for the playoff contenders in Denver. Come January 8 of next year, Giambi will turn 40. While his career may be winding down, a new decade might provide him with a chance to contribute more positively to baseball, and perhaps to improve his overall reputation in the game. Maybe Giambi will coach a team’s hitters, and give them advice fueled by his own mistakes, successes and incredible batting eye. Perhaps he will find a way to pass along the competitive fire that guided him through those tough at-bats against Pedro Martinez back when the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry was white hot. Or maybe he’ll move away from baseball altogether, and instead help individuals who live their lives outside the white lines.
A few days after Giambi turns 40, I will follow suit. I don’t have a baseball career to look back on, nor have I ever found my name on the back page of the tabloids. That’s OK, actually. I’ll be moving on in my own way, as a teacher, writer, father, husband, son, friend. There’s so much to do, and so much to look forward to, that I wonder if I’ll even have time to count the years. Maybe the real number that matters when you start your fifth decade is 24 – as in the number of hours each day carries in it. If you’re as busy as many of us are at this age, you may find yourself wishing for 40 hours in a day more than you find yourself wishing against 40 candles on a cake.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The Cone of Shame (One Sixty-Two: Day Fifty-Eight)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Fifty-Eight: Troy Tulowitzki, Colorado Rockies
It looks like our dog got into a tussle with a lampshade, and came out on the losing end.
Some call it an Elizabethan collar, others call it a space collar, and still others label it the “cone of shame.” For Daisy, this upside-down, plastic lampshade is meant to keep her from chewing open the stitches that are part and parcel of the spaying she underwent this week.
Daisy is a 6-month-old golden retriever who’s normally teeming with energy. With the collar, though, she seems a bit depressed. She keeps bumping into doorways, and has trouble sleeping in her favorite spot beneath our bed. We have to fill up the water bowl higher than normal so she can actually reach the water and drink. And, to be honest, it’s also kind of hard for her to lick her butt these days. The dog wants her life back.
But for now, she must adjust. There are times in our lives when recovery is the name of the game, whether we like it or not. Troy Tulowitzki is the best player on the Colorado Rockies, a team viewed by many in April as a sure-fire playoff team. Thursday night, Tulowitzki was batting against Minnesota Twins reliever Alex Burnett in the later innings of a Rockies win. The pitch came inside, struck Tulowitzki’s left wrist, and changed his season completely.
Doctors found a fracture in the shortstop’s wrist yesterday. It won’t require surgery, but Tulowitzki is not going to be playing any baseball until August. Whether he likes it or not, he’s wearing a cast instead of a baseball glove. The ground balls that Tulowitzki typically scoops up so smoothly will be fielded by someone else. When the All-Star Game rolls around in a few weeks, Tulowitzki will be watching the game on TV, rather than suiting up for the game with his peers.
It’s not fun, this recovery thing. It’s easy to wallow in self-pity and stare blankly at the TV. But this too shall pass, as they say. And Troy, you can take comfort in the fact that however uncomfortable that cast feels, it is no lampshade. You really don’t want that; take it from Daisy.
Day Fifty-Eight: Troy Tulowitzki, Colorado Rockies
It looks like our dog got into a tussle with a lampshade, and came out on the losing end.
Some call it an Elizabethan collar, others call it a space collar, and still others label it the “cone of shame.” For Daisy, this upside-down, plastic lampshade is meant to keep her from chewing open the stitches that are part and parcel of the spaying she underwent this week.
Daisy is a 6-month-old golden retriever who’s normally teeming with energy. With the collar, though, she seems a bit depressed. She keeps bumping into doorways, and has trouble sleeping in her favorite spot beneath our bed. We have to fill up the water bowl higher than normal so she can actually reach the water and drink. And, to be honest, it’s also kind of hard for her to lick her butt these days. The dog wants her life back.
But for now, she must adjust. There are times in our lives when recovery is the name of the game, whether we like it or not. Troy Tulowitzki is the best player on the Colorado Rockies, a team viewed by many in April as a sure-fire playoff team. Thursday night, Tulowitzki was batting against Minnesota Twins reliever Alex Burnett in the later innings of a Rockies win. The pitch came inside, struck Tulowitzki’s left wrist, and changed his season completely.
Doctors found a fracture in the shortstop’s wrist yesterday. It won’t require surgery, but Tulowitzki is not going to be playing any baseball until August. Whether he likes it or not, he’s wearing a cast instead of a baseball glove. The ground balls that Tulowitzki typically scoops up so smoothly will be fielded by someone else. When the All-Star Game rolls around in a few weeks, Tulowitzki will be watching the game on TV, rather than suiting up for the game with his peers.
It’s not fun, this recovery thing. It’s easy to wallow in self-pity and stare blankly at the TV. But this too shall pass, as they say. And Troy, you can take comfort in the fact that however uncomfortable that cast feels, it is no lampshade. You really don’t want that; take it from Daisy.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The Impossible Feat (One Sixty-Two: Day Seven)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Seven: Ubaldo Jimenez, Colorado Rockies
While teaching a college reading-skills course one summer, I assigned my students David Ferrell’s Los Angeles Times feature story on the ultra-marathon known as “Badwater.” As we read and discussed the story, my students were amazed that there are human beings who run a 135-mile race from Death Valley to Mt. Whitney, Calif., often through temperatures well above 100 degrees. It doesn’t seem humanly possible, yet there are a select few who start and finish Badwater.
Achieving the near-impossible – it’s something that humans have been striving to do for as long as they’ve walked the earth. Climbing the tallest mountain, tightrope-walking between skyscrapers, swimming across channels – it’s part of what we do, part of our genetic makeup. And whenever we break another barrier, a name gets added to the list of trailblazers, stretching from Pheidippides the marathon runner to Phelps the swimmer.
It is time to add another name to that list. This young man has figured out something that no one has done before: He’s learned how to pitch dominant baseball in Denver, Colorado. For the past 17 years, Coors Field in downtown Denver has been known more as a launching pad than as the home to baseball’s Colorado Rockies. The thin, dry Rocky Mountain air helps baseballs soar farther at Coors than they would at lower elevations. Even though the Rockies have been storing their balls in an atmosphere-controlled room known as the “humidor” for eight years, the balls can still fly out of that park: Witness yesterday’s 12-11 Arizona win over Colorado in Denver.
But now, amid the long fly balls of 2010, a trailblazer has arrived. He is 26 years old, 6-foot-4, and born in the Dominican Republic. He has endured his share of tough games at Coors, but now things are different. As April comes to a close, the National League will surely name Ubaldo Jimenez its player of the month. He is 5-0 with a 0.79 earned-run average so far this year. Since May 1 of last year, Jimenez is 19-9, and not once have hitters hit better than .250 against him in a month. On April 17, Jimenez took things a step further and pitched a no-hitter – the first in Rockies’ history – against the Atlanta Braves.
Oh, and the kicker – he pitches no worse at home in Coors than he does away. Indeed, Ubaldo Jimenez has found a way to do what many thought to be impossible. This is a team that many pitchers have long avoided, for fear that the Denver air would wreck their careers, not to mention their statistics. This is a stadium known more for football-like scores than baseball ledgers. And yet, here he stands, 98-mile fastball in hand.
The Associated Press reported that on the day after his no-hitter, Jimenez awoke at 6:30 a.m. and ran six miles, slightly longer than his usual run on the day after he pitches.
Hey, it wasn’t Badwater. But for now, at least, one impossible feat is enough.
Day Seven: Ubaldo Jimenez, Colorado Rockies
While teaching a college reading-skills course one summer, I assigned my students David Ferrell’s Los Angeles Times feature story on the ultra-marathon known as “Badwater.” As we read and discussed the story, my students were amazed that there are human beings who run a 135-mile race from Death Valley to Mt. Whitney, Calif., often through temperatures well above 100 degrees. It doesn’t seem humanly possible, yet there are a select few who start and finish Badwater.
Achieving the near-impossible – it’s something that humans have been striving to do for as long as they’ve walked the earth. Climbing the tallest mountain, tightrope-walking between skyscrapers, swimming across channels – it’s part of what we do, part of our genetic makeup. And whenever we break another barrier, a name gets added to the list of trailblazers, stretching from Pheidippides the marathon runner to Phelps the swimmer.
It is time to add another name to that list. This young man has figured out something that no one has done before: He’s learned how to pitch dominant baseball in Denver, Colorado. For the past 17 years, Coors Field in downtown Denver has been known more as a launching pad than as the home to baseball’s Colorado Rockies. The thin, dry Rocky Mountain air helps baseballs soar farther at Coors than they would at lower elevations. Even though the Rockies have been storing their balls in an atmosphere-controlled room known as the “humidor” for eight years, the balls can still fly out of that park: Witness yesterday’s 12-11 Arizona win over Colorado in Denver.
But now, amid the long fly balls of 2010, a trailblazer has arrived. He is 26 years old, 6-foot-4, and born in the Dominican Republic. He has endured his share of tough games at Coors, but now things are different. As April comes to a close, the National League will surely name Ubaldo Jimenez its player of the month. He is 5-0 with a 0.79 earned-run average so far this year. Since May 1 of last year, Jimenez is 19-9, and not once have hitters hit better than .250 against him in a month. On April 17, Jimenez took things a step further and pitched a no-hitter – the first in Rockies’ history – against the Atlanta Braves.
Oh, and the kicker – he pitches no worse at home in Coors than he does away. Indeed, Ubaldo Jimenez has found a way to do what many thought to be impossible. This is a team that many pitchers have long avoided, for fear that the Denver air would wreck their careers, not to mention their statistics. This is a stadium known more for football-like scores than baseball ledgers. And yet, here he stands, 98-mile fastball in hand.
The Associated Press reported that on the day after his no-hitter, Jimenez awoke at 6:30 a.m. and ran six miles, slightly longer than his usual run on the day after he pitches.
Hey, it wasn’t Badwater. But for now, at least, one impossible feat is enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
