Archive for Audio and/or Visual

David Ortiz has an announcement to make regarding Boston — which announcement utilizes language typically reserved only for the bedroom and the boardroom.

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Sometimes it might feel like we are mere dwarves among the giants that play this game. And, if you’re standing next to Jon Rauch or Giancarlo Stanton, you’re probably right. But, sometimes the players themselves are rendered tiny by this beautiful game.

Thanks to Joe Frisario for the big bat pictures.

There’s no obvious reason why it would be the case, but if the reader woke up this morning with a newfound resolve just to like the hell out of Dodgers outfielder Tony Gwynn, this video of him playfully mimicking a particularly vocal member* of the outfield bleachers (during a PCL game, it would appear) is going to be rather helpful in that endeavor.

*And/or Sam Kinison impersonator?

Video courtesy balls.ie, it appears and brought to the author’s attention on Facebook via Seth Stohs.

Look, I’m not saying I would buy a sex robot. But if I did, its face would be a flat screen playing this on a loop.

Strange thing. There’s something in here about Duane Kuiper typing in ‘FanGraphs’ on a computer and a revealing Jon Miller popping up with a bottle of Pinot Noir. I can’t make heads or tails of it.

KNBR Giants Post-Game Wrap, 9/8

A glass of my finest Northern California Pinot to Chris Cwik for his technical expertise.

Accomplished German filmmaker Werner Herzog is not a baseball fan, per se. He is, however, a particularly astute observer of the human condition — which qualification lends to his thoughts on the cruel beauty of Matt Harvey’s slider a real and certain credibility.

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The first game-action video of Aaron Gleeman has recently emerged on the internet, as the noted blogger continues his remarkably under-reported transition from writing about to actually playing major-league baseball.

Here’s a brief scouting report on Gleeman’s main tools based entirely on the five seconds of footage embedded here.

Hitting: Extreme opposite-field approach. Like, exclusively.

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When the BBWAA admitted the present author to its ranks, what they likely had in mind is that he’d produce high-quality content like that which follows — namely, a 20-second audio clip of Ryan Braun taking batting practice today at Miller Park, and ending in an sound effect called Large/Sharp/Boomy Explosion with Falling Debris.

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“…to the girls and boys and people above. This is the time to fall in love.”

Human beings, speaking generally, are creatures of habit. Godless vagrants and general contractors aside, most people do the same thing every day. Of course, there are fluid variables — birthdays, dinners, concerts, funerals, Labor Days, ski trips, mental breakdowns, trips to the dentist.

During the winter months, baseball ceases to be a constant for the current author and reader. It is there for so many days, then gone. A new routine is established for the time being, and this routine turns to the new constant. So when baseball starts again, it is time to adjust our daily habits.

This Sunday, it will be time to make that adjustment.

We have habits — subhabits, if you will — that take place slightly before, or perhaps concurrent with, this tipping point. For baseball, it may be a cookout, or the purchase of a new cap or jersey. It may just be a small, internal celebration. The latter action is of no less importance than any other, because it is still a signifier of something that, at the time, seems like the most important thing happening.

The entrance of spring — speaking in terms of the calendar, at least — isn’t always apparent here in the middle west. But no matter the weather, baseball is its own barometer. Baseball doesn’t give a shit about what the weather has to say. When it comes, it’s spring again.

And so, to mark the official official beginning of spring, I listen to the song embedded below. It’s not the most basebally song — in so much as it doesn’t even reference the sport and the video features golf (the fact that this video may deserve its own post is not lost on me). It’s not even a terribly good song. But this is my subhabit. And since I won’t be “seeing” you until games have already started, I’m sharing it with you today.

Presenting the vocal stylings of Mr. Biz Markie:

Max Scherzer, bathed in the uncreated light.

How has the author spent his Sunday? Generally speaking, not in any way that would credit the species.

Yet, just like a broken clock, that same author is both (a) standing quite still in your grandmother’s anteroom and (b) occasionally right.

In this particular case, a brief moment of inspiration has produced the following — i.e. three premises towards what would likely be an important syllogism were it complete. But it is not complete. And perhaps — like all things that are beautiful but imperfect — never will be.

In any case, here are those same three premises, sans conclusion.

Premise No. 1
To philosophize is to learn how to die.

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