Archive for Event

We have, as you may be aware, reached the latter weeks of June.  It’s a time when a young man’s fancy lightly turns back away from love.  Youths of all ages escape from their brick-lined educational prisons, and celebrate their freedom by devoting themselves to console video games and working at fast food restaurants.  Finally, it’s that magical time of year when hitting coaches are lined up at the guillotine, sacrificed in the name of organizational change and statistical deviation.

Three men have already been led into the abattoir this season.    John Mallee lost his post with the Florida Marlins, replaced by a man in Eduardo Perez who has no coaching experience on any level.  Former corporate mouthpiece Edwin Rodriguez described him thusly: “…he doesn’t have much experience at teaching, as a coach, but he played in the big leagues for 13 years, so I think that’s good enough.”  Logan Morrison was so enraged by the move that he devoted more than 140 characters to his wrath.  Fortunately, as we can all agree, the move solved all of the Marlins’ problems instantly.

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Hard to argue with one Mr. Aron Bender’s bestowing of the title “Balk of the Year” on this little gem:

That’s Mike Pelfrey pitching for the Mets in Saturday’s game against the Phillies, with Dom Brown batting. The balk moved runners to second and third, but luckily for Pelfrey, he got Brown to ground out to end the inning. If Brown singles in one or two runs there, I’m sure Pelfrey hears about it the next day from Mike Francesa. Instead, it’s just a harmless (albeit hilarious) balk.

Pair your media experience with Trader Joe’s Mediterranean Hummus.

A teacher of mine in high school — one who was very enthusiastic about what I’m almost certain is called “experiential education” — had a number of guiding principles by which he conducted his pedagogical self. Of these, one he’d repeat pretty often concerned the idea of “authoring” one’s education. “A student,” this teacher would say, “needs to become the author of his education — of his experiences, in general.”

Though I’ve likely fallen short of this ideal — too many “experiences,” it seems, involve swimming nude in a public water source, an activity which I regard as indecent on multiple levels — it’s an idea with merit, this. The passive consumption of experiences/ideas/media is wrong not on a moral level, as many hippies/communists/Portlanders would argue, but on an aesthetic level. Which is to say, it’s imperative that we tailor our experiences to our own specific preferences and talents; otherwise, said experiences will surely underwhelm.

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The lamb is breaking the seals, or something like that.

I don’t know remember the exact passage, but certainly somewhere in the Book of Revelation does John note that, just before the rivers turned to blood or whatever, an auction was started in his fantasy league for Jeff Francoeur.

Well, thanks to Mike Axisa, that very same thing has just happened in my FanGraphs’ ottoneu league.

Thanks for nothing, Axisa. Hope you like your plagues in tens.

Born in a blowout.

ottoneu creator Niv Shah wasn’t always a Cleveland Indians fan. In part one of this two-part piece, we covered the beginning of that night when Niv called friend Chad Young (currently blogging about being a member of the FanGraphs Experts League) and said he had some tickets to the game that night between the Rays and Indians.

Though there might have been some resistance to the strange formatting, the die is cast. The format has been decided. Chad got Niv to the game, it turned into a blowout, and yet they stayed to appreciate the Jake. Now it’s time to bring this night to its thrilling conclusion!

Eno Sarris: Do you remember a moment when you were like, hey wait a minute, let’s sit down? A player at the bat, or some cheering or something?

Niv Shah: i honestly don’t think we did. i remember a point where we were like, wait a minute, we might come back here – i think it was fryman’s homer in the 7th… definitely a home run in the 7th that was like “Wait… we are not down that much”

yeah

david f*cking lamb too

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It’s been three weeks since the FanGraphs staff — some of the coolest mother you-know-whats on the planet — descended on Phoenix, Arizona, to revel in the sights and sounds of Spring Training. And I can’t get her out of my mind.

Salt River Fields at Talking Stick. Now that, friends, is a name for a baseball stadium. Nay, a baseball complex. Say it: Salt River Fields at Talking Stick. Say it twice. Not only does the name roll off the tongue, but the brand-spanking new facility — home to both the Arizona Diamondbacks and Colorado Rockies — is a stunning example of why Florida’s Grapefruit League just might be on baseball’s list of endangered species.

The jaunt down to Phoenix was my first ever to watch Spring Training’s fake games. And Salt River Fields at Talking Stick, which opened its doors for the first time on February 11, 2011, and hosted its first game two weeks later on February 26, was everything I imagined Spring Training to be.

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Mere hours ago, I attended a Boston Red Sox-Florida Marlins game with my 90-year-old grandfather, Philip (né Filippo) Cistulli. Below is a brief account of same.

Before I begin in earnest, some brief information about my grandfather: he’s originally from Bristol, Connecticut, son of immigrants. After his father died (when my grandfather was quite young), he resolved more or less to become The World’s Greatest Pater Familias. By most accounts, he succeeded. He’s now a widower who splits his time between Florida and the Boston area.

Another note: despite the fact that my grandfather’s story could very well be rendered beautifully and heartbreakingly by someone so inclined to do such a thing, Carson Cistulli is decidedly not that writer. Most of our interactions consist of him offering career advice and me pretending I know better. It would be disingenuous to represent them otherwise.

Now, here:

Five Brief Conversations We Had
ONE
Me: Grandpa, you mind if I write about our trip to the game this afternoon?

Grandfather: I’d be honored — so long as you don’t write anything stupid.

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The beacon that draws us north.

It’s the beginning of March, and that means the players report to warmer locales while the nerds head north. It all makes sense when you look at the lineup that MIT Sloan Business School puts together for their annual Sports Analytics Conference.

This year, FanGraphs will be in full force at the event, as Daves Cameron and Appelman will be attending, and your intrepid NotG reporter will be covering the event’s nerd-angles and nerd-crevices. If you doubt the credentials of the event, just check this list. The invited speakers and panelists this year include:

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Earlier today, Full-Time Employee Dave Cameron announced that FanGraphs will be hosting not one butbutbut two live events in Phoenix, Arizona — on March 11th and 12th, respectively.

While Cameron’s notice surely gives a basic sense of what to expect, I thought I might elaborate on some other notable events that are sure to occur as the weekend unfolds.

Here are they are, in no particular order:

• Eno Sarris will not once be seen in the same room as Malcolm Gladwell. This, of course, has less to do with their physical resemblance and way more to do with how Macolm Gladwell will actually just be swimming in a pile of money in some gigantic New York loft apartment.

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Given that the Dodgers-Giants blood feud already has a body count, what follows might strike some as an example of imprudent brinksmanship:

As most of you die hard fans know, The World Champion San Francisco Giants open up Major League Baseball play at Chavez Ravine in Los Angeles. In this hostile environment The World Champion San Francisco Giants will need the support of The World Champion San Francisco Giant’s Faithful. The plan is to fly a banner 3 miles above Chavez Ravine that says, “Giants 2010 Champs: BEAT LA”. This banner will fly in Los Angeles for the Thursday, Saturday and Sunday games for an hour and 20 minutes. It is a great way to pay tribute to The World Champion San Francisco Giants while giving the other organization a taste of what it is like to be World Series Champions: something they haven’t tasted since 1988. So, we ask the faithful of The World Series San Francisco Giants to pledge whatever you can to make this idea, this dream, a reality.

As righteous causes go, it’s hard to argue that this one ranks up there with St. Jude, but if nothing else one must admire the grassroots zeal. My only complaint is that “Beat L.A.” is a bit tepid and uninspired. I mean, if you’re going to risk inciting a riot at least ramp up the airborne taunt with something like, “Ha ha, Dodgers, you suck!” or “Vin Scully doesn’t recycle!” or “Sandy Koufax was decidedly a belly-itcher!” or “You are all foul-smelling, withered gargoyles, the lot of you!” or “Barry Bonds was better than Franklin Stubbs!” or “One could argue –and this flying machine does — that the 1981 championship wasn’t entirely legitimate!” or the like.

Mostly, I’m left wondering what you, upstanding readers, would put on the flying banner if you were taunting your rivals from the heavens and had set up a 501c3 to that end. Regale us!