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-Seven: Felix Hernandez, Seattle Mariners (via Ken Griffey Jr.)
My baseball memories of Autumn 1995 are dominated by the image of delirious Seattle Mariners baseball players diving atop Ken Griffey Jr. on an evening in early October. They tackled Griffey because, in the bottom of the 11th inning, his slide home had defeated the New York Yankees in the deciding game of the very first American League Division Series. I remember the sinking feeling that came with watching Edgar Martinez lace a Jack McDowell pitch into the left-field corner, and the shouts that followed the sight of both Joey Cora and Griffey dashing around the bases to claim Seattle’s first-ever playoff series. For a Yankees fan who’d gone 14 years without seeing his team in the playoffs, it was a sorry sight.
But that memory, dismal as it may be, is about the only thing that went wrong in my life during that fall a decade and a half ago. This was, after all, the September in which Amy and I were married. Fifteen years ago today, she walked down the aisle with her father and we said a couple of I do’s. Fifteen years ago, we danced and hugged and smiled for the cameras in a glorious celebration of life and commitment. It’s hard to believe that it’s been this long, but life does chug along pretty quickly – sometimes, it seems, about as quickly as that Ken Griffey sprint in October 1995.
After 15 years, I am amazed at how many things I’m still learning about my wife. I’m proud of how resilient we’ve been in working through challenges together. I’m impressed by the passion and effort we’ve given to parenting. I’m thrilled about our mutual willingness to try new journeys, both together and independently. And, more than anything, I’m fascinated by the ways in which my love for her deepens with each year.
If you take away all the team allegiance stuff, there really isn’t a much better sight in baseball history than Griffey’s dash home in ’95. The perfect ballplayer made the perfect run and the perfect slide, then flashed the most perfect smile baseball had seen in a long time. I watched it again today, and as I viewed it I didn’t feel much in the way of Yankee-fan sadness. Instead, it reminded me of the fact that I had watched that play in the bedroom of my new apartment, folding clothes next to a woman to whom I had just been married a few weeks earlier. It wasn’t the play I thought of; it was Amy. She was there with me, that day and the next day and thousands more days after.
Fifteen years. Wow. Ken Griffey has retired now, and Felix Hernandez is the perfect player in Seattle these days. The Yankees have made the playoffs nearly every year since then, and both teams have provided thrills aplenty.
And that’s all just fine. But for me today, 15 years means just one thing: I still do, honey. Today, tomorrow, and forever.
Showing posts with label Ken Griffey Jr.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ken Griffey Jr.. Show all posts
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
What's Next? (One Sixty-Two: Day 56)
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-Six: Nick Swisher, New York Yankees
Throughout the year, ESPN has been running an innovative collection of documentaries titled “30 for 30.” In the series, the network celebrates its 30 years of existence by airing one-hour documentaries about sports events from the past three decades, created by various filmmakers.
Last night, ESPN debuted “June 17, 1994,” directed by Brett Morgen. Without conducting a single retrospective interview and using only video footage from that day, Morgen has created a breathtaking review of one of the most fascinating days in recent sports history.
The New York Rangers are parading down Broadway to celebrate their first Stanley Cup in 54 years. Arnold Palmer is limping along the course at Oakmont in his final U.S. Open. The World Cup is getting underway in Chicago, with President Clinton and Oprah Winfrey welcoming the world. Ken Griffey Jr. has launched a homer off of David Cone to reach 30 home runs in a season faster than any man in baseball history.
In Madison Square Garden, the fast, furious and physical NBA Finals between the Houston Rockets and New York Knicks are set to play Game 5 on this evening. Patrick Ewing and Hakeem Olajuwon are both in search of their first-ever title, and the teams are about as evenly matched as the 2010 Celtics and Lakers are.
So much sports excitement. And yet, it is all being pushed aside without a moment’s hesitation. The news is out of Los Angeles: One of sports’ most celebrated superstars has been charged with murder, and the L.A. police cannot find him. As O.J. Simpson and the infamous white Ford Bronco become visible on the highways of Southern California later in the day, American television news is quickly ushered into a new era. It is an era of news as entertainment, as soap opera, as sensationalism, as reality and as 24-hour Shakespearean drama.
It’s a day that altered the way our news is covered, and its imprint is all over the electronic journalism we encounter today – from the 24/7 oil spill camera, to the coverage of Tiger Woods and Michael Jackson, to the up-to-the-moment critiques and analysis of every political maneuver, to the constant overlap of news and reality television (balloon boys, White House gate crashers, American Idols, and YouTube sensations, to name a few).
My brother was showing me his Twitter account the other day, and he was explaining how it all works. He was using his iPhone to search around Twitter for people to “follow,” and he came across a very popular Twitter page for New York Yankees outfielder Nick Swisher. The people who follow Swisher’s Twitter page get any up-to-the-moment thoughts that the friendly Yankee slugger has to share each day. How was last night’s game, Nick? What are you up to today? Who are your Twitter friends? Swisher has voluntarily placed a portion of his life on display every minute of every day. He knows that his fans crave nothing less.
Technology has changed dramatically over the past 16 years. But the cultural shift of June 17, 1994, is guiding what we do with this technology: We create our own news, our own realities, and give ourselves the constant rush of something new. We want to be both consumers and newsmakers at once, so we take off for the highway overpass and wave to the cameras following the Juice.
You don’t get to follow a Ford Bronco through L.A. every day, with one of the best football players in history holding a gun to his head in the back seat. But when nearly 100 million people tune in to watch something as gripping as this, they want to know one thing: What’s next?
It’s June 17, 2010. Turn on your phone, your laptop, your TV. He’s still there, still in that Bronco. It never ends. It never has. There’s always something next.
Day Fifty-Six: Nick Swisher, New York Yankees
Throughout the year, ESPN has been running an innovative collection of documentaries titled “30 for 30.” In the series, the network celebrates its 30 years of existence by airing one-hour documentaries about sports events from the past three decades, created by various filmmakers.
Last night, ESPN debuted “June 17, 1994,” directed by Brett Morgen. Without conducting a single retrospective interview and using only video footage from that day, Morgen has created a breathtaking review of one of the most fascinating days in recent sports history.
The New York Rangers are parading down Broadway to celebrate their first Stanley Cup in 54 years. Arnold Palmer is limping along the course at Oakmont in his final U.S. Open. The World Cup is getting underway in Chicago, with President Clinton and Oprah Winfrey welcoming the world. Ken Griffey Jr. has launched a homer off of David Cone to reach 30 home runs in a season faster than any man in baseball history.
In Madison Square Garden, the fast, furious and physical NBA Finals between the Houston Rockets and New York Knicks are set to play Game 5 on this evening. Patrick Ewing and Hakeem Olajuwon are both in search of their first-ever title, and the teams are about as evenly matched as the 2010 Celtics and Lakers are.
So much sports excitement. And yet, it is all being pushed aside without a moment’s hesitation. The news is out of Los Angeles: One of sports’ most celebrated superstars has been charged with murder, and the L.A. police cannot find him. As O.J. Simpson and the infamous white Ford Bronco become visible on the highways of Southern California later in the day, American television news is quickly ushered into a new era. It is an era of news as entertainment, as soap opera, as sensationalism, as reality and as 24-hour Shakespearean drama.
It’s a day that altered the way our news is covered, and its imprint is all over the electronic journalism we encounter today – from the 24/7 oil spill camera, to the coverage of Tiger Woods and Michael Jackson, to the up-to-the-moment critiques and analysis of every political maneuver, to the constant overlap of news and reality television (balloon boys, White House gate crashers, American Idols, and YouTube sensations, to name a few).
My brother was showing me his Twitter account the other day, and he was explaining how it all works. He was using his iPhone to search around Twitter for people to “follow,” and he came across a very popular Twitter page for New York Yankees outfielder Nick Swisher. The people who follow Swisher’s Twitter page get any up-to-the-moment thoughts that the friendly Yankee slugger has to share each day. How was last night’s game, Nick? What are you up to today? Who are your Twitter friends? Swisher has voluntarily placed a portion of his life on display every minute of every day. He knows that his fans crave nothing less.
Technology has changed dramatically over the past 16 years. But the cultural shift of June 17, 1994, is guiding what we do with this technology: We create our own news, our own realities, and give ourselves the constant rush of something new. We want to be both consumers and newsmakers at once, so we take off for the highway overpass and wave to the cameras following the Juice.
You don’t get to follow a Ford Bronco through L.A. every day, with one of the best football players in history holding a gun to his head in the back seat. But when nearly 100 million people tune in to watch something as gripping as this, they want to know one thing: What’s next?
It’s June 17, 2010. Turn on your phone, your laptop, your TV. He’s still there, still in that Bronco. It never ends. It never has. There’s always something next.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Kings James & Carl (One Sixty-Two: Day 40)
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 Forty: Carl Crawford, Tampa Bay Rays
The Lakers are playing the Celtics again in the NBA Finals this year, but this matchup of legendary franchises is not the top story in the NBA right now. Since 28 other teams are done for the year, and the most talented basketball player on Earth is a free agent, the biggest story is this: Where will LeBron James be playing next year? Will he re-sign with his hometown Cleveland Cavaliers? Or will he go for the big-city life and choose the New York Knicks, New Jersey Nets, Chicago Bulls or Los Angeles Clippers?
The team that James chooses will immediately become a playoff contender, if it’s not one already. His presence on the court will carry his team to dozens of wins that it wouldn’t have claimed without him. A championship requires more than one great player, but one LeBron James can serve as a ticket to the NBA’s postseason.
Baseball is much different, in that one player cannot single-handedly lead his team into the playoffs. Ken Griffey Jr. couldn’t do it for the Reds, Alex Rodriguez couldn’t do it for the Rangers, and Carlos Lee hasn’t done it for the Astros. In baseball, the best free-agent signings are the ones that provide the one missing piece a team needed in order to rise from good to great. The Boston Red Sox’s 2003 signing of David Ortiz, the slugging lefty, is one such example. When Ortiz entered the Boston lineup, he prevented teams from pitching around Manny Ramirez. One year later, the Red Sox were champions.
So in baseball this winter, there will be no talk of LeBron James. The big question, instead, will be this: Where will Carl Crawford play next year? The Tampa Bay Rays’ left fielder is one of baseball’s elite talents: He plays the best left field in baseball, he steals bases at will, he hits for average, he pops just enough home runs to keep outfielders from playing him shallow, and he serves as a vocal leader in the clubhouse. In short, there’s very little the man can’t do. Add him to an already-strong team, and you might just have yourself a championship club.
Losing Crawford would deal a devastating blow to Tampa’s civic pride, in the same way that Cleveland would suffer without James. Fans of the Rays hope that a great 2010 from the team (the Rays currently hold the best record in baseball) will keep Crawford in town beyond this year. As for the rest of baseball, there are an awful lot of owners with their checkbooks ready.
By the time we reach October, Crawford’s free agency might just overshadow the on-field drama of the World Series. By then, an enormously wealthy LeBron James will be starting his season – somewhere, with a team still to be determined. Stay tuned.
Day Forty: Carl Crawford, Tampa Bay Rays
The Lakers are playing the Celtics again in the NBA Finals this year, but this matchup of legendary franchises is not the top story in the NBA right now. Since 28 other teams are done for the year, and the most talented basketball player on Earth is a free agent, the biggest story is this: Where will LeBron James be playing next year? Will he re-sign with his hometown Cleveland Cavaliers? Or will he go for the big-city life and choose the New York Knicks, New Jersey Nets, Chicago Bulls or Los Angeles Clippers?
The team that James chooses will immediately become a playoff contender, if it’s not one already. His presence on the court will carry his team to dozens of wins that it wouldn’t have claimed without him. A championship requires more than one great player, but one LeBron James can serve as a ticket to the NBA’s postseason.
Baseball is much different, in that one player cannot single-handedly lead his team into the playoffs. Ken Griffey Jr. couldn’t do it for the Reds, Alex Rodriguez couldn’t do it for the Rangers, and Carlos Lee hasn’t done it for the Astros. In baseball, the best free-agent signings are the ones that provide the one missing piece a team needed in order to rise from good to great. The Boston Red Sox’s 2003 signing of David Ortiz, the slugging lefty, is one such example. When Ortiz entered the Boston lineup, he prevented teams from pitching around Manny Ramirez. One year later, the Red Sox were champions.
So in baseball this winter, there will be no talk of LeBron James. The big question, instead, will be this: Where will Carl Crawford play next year? The Tampa Bay Rays’ left fielder is one of baseball’s elite talents: He plays the best left field in baseball, he steals bases at will, he hits for average, he pops just enough home runs to keep outfielders from playing him shallow, and he serves as a vocal leader in the clubhouse. In short, there’s very little the man can’t do. Add him to an already-strong team, and you might just have yourself a championship club.
Losing Crawford would deal a devastating blow to Tampa’s civic pride, in the same way that Cleveland would suffer without James. Fans of the Rays hope that a great 2010 from the team (the Rays currently hold the best record in baseball) will keep Crawford in town beyond this year. As for the rest of baseball, there are an awful lot of owners with their checkbooks ready.
By the time we reach October, Crawford’s free agency might just overshadow the on-field drama of the World Series. By then, an enormously wealthy LeBron James will be starting his season – somewhere, with a team still to be determined. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Sleeping in Seattle (One Sixty-Two: Day 20)
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 Twenty: Ken Griffey Jr., Seattle Mariners
I woke up in the middle of the night last week, my heart pounding. I had just dreamed that while my school’s principal was observing my class, I’d fallen asleep and left my co-teacher to take care of things. I had looked up from my desk after a half-hour, mumbled something about my students completing their journals, then conked out again. In the dream, my boss had watched intently as I snoozed the whole period.
Sleep. So often, those of us in our 30s and 40s are unable to get as much shut-eye as we know we need. Work, parenting, household duties, overall stress – they team up to sandwich themselves between us and the rest we crave. Just two nights ago, I set the timer on the bedroom TV, as I always do before going to sleep. But my wife got to bed far too late after a long night’s work, and the TV was off already. So she turned it back on, watched some news, and set no timer. A little while later, I began dreaming of partisan politics. When I awoke at 3 a.m., MSNBC greeted me with a tense debate about the news on Capitol Hill.
All of this brings us to Ken Griffey Jr., the 41-year-old Seattle Mariner whose Hall of Fame accomplishments have been overshadowed in recent days over a question of sleep. A Tacoma (Wash.) News Tribune report quoted two unnamed teammates as saying the great lefty slugger had slept through a potential pinch-hitting opportunity the other day in Seattle. Was Griffey really asleep in the clubhouse when his manager called his name? Or is this all just a tall tale?
I don’t know, and I don’t think we need to send the Law & Order crew to Seattle to investigate this. As the aforementioned dream attests, none of us wants to be caught napping on the job. I will say this, though: For the past two decades, Ken Griffey Jr. has given thousands of youngsters lots of reasons to dream through their sleepy nights beneath the covers. For many budding ballplayers, nothing was more soothing than a vision of Junior’s long, loopy swing sending a ball on a long journey into the night sky. And what was cooler than the sight of Griffey soaring above the centerfield fence to grab a ball before it landed over the wall?
For all the sleep he has helped procure throughout his extraordinary career, I say Ken Griffey Jr. gets a pass on the “Sleeping in Seattle” controversy. I see that he pinch-hit today and drove in a run. That makes for 1,835 RBI, along with 630 home runs over 21 seasons. The guy will have to sleep through a lot worse to ruin his reputation. Even if his boss is watching.
Day Twenty: Ken Griffey Jr., Seattle Mariners
I woke up in the middle of the night last week, my heart pounding. I had just dreamed that while my school’s principal was observing my class, I’d fallen asleep and left my co-teacher to take care of things. I had looked up from my desk after a half-hour, mumbled something about my students completing their journals, then conked out again. In the dream, my boss had watched intently as I snoozed the whole period.
Sleep. So often, those of us in our 30s and 40s are unable to get as much shut-eye as we know we need. Work, parenting, household duties, overall stress – they team up to sandwich themselves between us and the rest we crave. Just two nights ago, I set the timer on the bedroom TV, as I always do before going to sleep. But my wife got to bed far too late after a long night’s work, and the TV was off already. So she turned it back on, watched some news, and set no timer. A little while later, I began dreaming of partisan politics. When I awoke at 3 a.m., MSNBC greeted me with a tense debate about the news on Capitol Hill.
All of this brings us to Ken Griffey Jr., the 41-year-old Seattle Mariner whose Hall of Fame accomplishments have been overshadowed in recent days over a question of sleep. A Tacoma (Wash.) News Tribune report quoted two unnamed teammates as saying the great lefty slugger had slept through a potential pinch-hitting opportunity the other day in Seattle. Was Griffey really asleep in the clubhouse when his manager called his name? Or is this all just a tall tale?
I don’t know, and I don’t think we need to send the Law & Order crew to Seattle to investigate this. As the aforementioned dream attests, none of us wants to be caught napping on the job. I will say this, though: For the past two decades, Ken Griffey Jr. has given thousands of youngsters lots of reasons to dream through their sleepy nights beneath the covers. For many budding ballplayers, nothing was more soothing than a vision of Junior’s long, loopy swing sending a ball on a long journey into the night sky. And what was cooler than the sight of Griffey soaring above the centerfield fence to grab a ball before it landed over the wall?
For all the sleep he has helped procure throughout his extraordinary career, I say Ken Griffey Jr. gets a pass on the “Sleeping in Seattle” controversy. I see that he pinch-hit today and drove in a run. That makes for 1,835 RBI, along with 630 home runs over 21 seasons. The guy will have to sleep through a lot worse to ruin his reputation. Even if his boss is watching.
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