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Around the Horn: Chapter 2. Latvia

latvia

Latvia

Ahoy, lusty wanderers! Since setting out some weeks ago on my bold and gastronomically reckless circumnavigation of the baseballing world, I have endured great hardship, engaged in hilarious and poignant miscommunication, and witnessed America’s pastime thriving in the least likely of settings. In a felt-lined yurt in the heart of the Gobi I sipped fermented mare’s milk and debated lineup optimization; on a rice barge on the Malabar coast I swapped hot-stove rumors over the roar of the monsoon; amidst flower-strewn meadows on the high slopes of the Karakoram I gasped my way through pickup games, the cheerful taunts of the Tibetans ringing in my wind-whipped ears. Step by arduous step I conquered Asia, and now I find myself on the grey shores of the Baltic, where baseball has a rich history.

According to scholar Josh Chetwynd:

Latvia had a brief flirtation with baseball in 1920, according to the October 10th edition of the New York Times that year. The paper recounted a game in Riga featuring members of the American Red Cross Commission of Western Russia and the Baltic States that garnered high-level political attention. “During the third inning,” the paper wrote, “the Prime Minister of Latvia drove onto the field. [The fielding team] whooped with joy, thinking that here was a worthy player to match [the other club’s star]. Instead, the Minister-President took our first baseman away with him.”

With such deep roots in the sport, it’s no surprise to find baseball still thriving in this land of zithers and pierogis. The nation’s amateur league, the Latvian Baseball Federation, consists of eight clubs with such names as (if my translation is correct) the Valmiera Cartridges, the Miami Devilbats, and the Legends of Light. The official website of the LBF includes a helpful and thorough overview of the history of baseball, as well as its professional format in the United States:

“World Series” is the MLB finals, where competing teams have passed the play-off round. Although the name sounds like that should participate in the tournament teams not only from America, it is not. Americans think that the team that produced the MLB championship, produced the world’s strongest team title. Admittedly, however, they are true.

The site also features an excellent tutorial on the rules of baseball, with some of the better explanatory graphics I have seen:

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As to the particular character of the game as it is played in Latvia, I can perhaps best convey it with a typical snippet of action from a recent game recap:

Perhaps the outcome of the game was the key Moot Arthur Knopkena shot in the air to catch Andra Gutman addition to some fly-ball figure of Christ, at a time when there was a similar outcome of the game and the kick nenoķeršanas would bring in several points.

The Latvians’ firm grasp on the fundamentals of the sport, and their obvious natural creativity on the diamond, have not, it seems, translated into great success on the global stage. In qualifications for the 2012 European Championship, the Latvian national team finished last in their group, losing all four of their games while being outscored 57-8. One particularly disappointing outing saw the team rather thoroughly outclassed by the Belgians, giving up 17 runs in five innings, while committing four errors, going completely hitless at the plate, and striking out eight times in 16 at-bats. Though this country seems to face long odds in living up to its proud baseball heritage, the spirit of its people remains undiminished, as the following picture affirms. Join me in wishing a hearty Veiksmi! to the good folks of Latvia — and join me, at some highly uncertain later date, for the next chapter of my suspense-filled journey — Around the Horn!

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SnotGraphs

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#QueBarbara

Jose Bautista is a bilingual gentleman. When he tweets, he tweets in full sentences that are often adequately punctuated. Significant tweets, he translates into English if first tweeted in Spanish, into Spanish if first tweeted in English). He is dapper.

Jose Bautista, surely, is not unaware of the sometimes awesome differences of expression in the two languages that he speaks. Consider especially the discrepancy in hashtags of the following tweets — the first the original tweet in English and the second Mr. Bautista’s own translation:

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I Learned How to Search by Image

As a well-traveled and well-practiced “explorer” of the World Wide Web, I assumed that I knew everything there was to know about finding my way around in “cyberspace.” Thus it was with considerable shock and disorientation that I learned, somewhat recently, of the possibility of exploring the web in an entirely new way. Google’s Search by Image feature, to put it bluntly, promises to do for the web search experience what Providence Grays shortstop Arthur Irwin did to the baseball glove: revolutionize it, or, at least, add some comfortable padding.

Because this innovation pertains so directly to our own experience as “tech-savvy” 21st-century sports enthusiasts, I wanted to take a few minutes to highlight its possibilities. As with so many great innovations, I find that it reveals truths that we knew all along, but could not have fully embraced — until now.

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Anagram New Snot Cretins

I mean Anagram Contest Winners.

VERY HONORABLE MENTIONS:

From Big Daddy V:
DELMON YOUNG: Ungodly Omen

From Reillocity:
JOSH REDDICK: DJ Horsedick

From Valen Dreath:
PABLO SANDOVAL: Panda Oval Slob

From Well-Beered Englishman:
JOE BUCK AND TIM MCCARVER: Dim Jock, Vacant Cerebrum

From Danny Knobgobbler:
CARSON CISTULLI: Local Crisis Nut

AND THE WINNER:

From Chris Cwik:
MADISON BUMGARNER: Bang me, Mr. Dinosaur


Anagram Contest

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Winners get their anagrams featured in a post later this week! What a prize!

These will not be the winners:
JUSTIN UPTON: Justin Up? Not.
MIKE TROUT: Mike Tutor
STEPHEN STRASBURG: Pets Banter, Shrugs
ANDREW MCCUTCHEN: Mac Crunched Newt
CLAYTON KERSHAW: Cy Heals War Knot
JUSTIN VERLANDER: Revel, Ninja Turds
BJ UPTON: BJ Up? Not.

These are a little better:
DUSTIN PEDROIA: Pa, I Dun Steroid!
BUSTER POSEY: Super Best, Yo.

(No, this is not the first time I’ve posted about anagrams.)


Taking Sabermetrics to the Streets

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A simple request this weekend begat a nerdgasm: Maury Brown asked for favorite concert on twitter, and just a little listicle tickling jarred something loose.

It wasn’t so much the particulars of the list. I’ve liked a lot of bands, and in my case, it was as easy as picking the best of each genre. Phish played from before midnight till dawn of 2001 in the swamps in Florida, that was pretty amazing. One of the hipster halloween shows — Flaming Lips in London or Fischerspooner in New York — had to be there, although since I was a perfect Kenny G in New York, I suppose that’s the pick. Arthur Lee and Love got the ‘orchestral arrangement’ pick. Amon Tobin’s ISAM got the electronica pick, even if Goldie at The End in London was epic. Burning Spear with 500 people on the beach in Negril got the reggae bid. The Meters at the Fillmore for funk. Goldfinger and Reel Big Fish together in some category or another, even if Less Than Jake’s spiderman dude makes for a lot of fun. Ratatat at Terminal Five has to register.

When I got to the hip hop entry, the saber side of me began to percolate.

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Why Is A NotGraphs

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[Author’s Note: Due to forces totally within the author’s control, such as the fact that he went to see a show last night, the results of Villanelle Week will be posted on Monday. This gives you a couple of days to polish off your half-finished poem or, alternately, a few extra days of suspense. Please schedule your lives accordingly.]

As evidenced by the Call to Action made by our Fearless Leader on Tuesday, we have in the midst of our poetics taken a moment to consider the essentials of our being. That is, we have asked ourselves and all of you, that defining question: “What is a NotGraphs?” You answered, dear readers, and you answered pithily.

Now I’d like to take a moment, if it pleases you, and if it doesn’t, to follow with a second query: “Why is a NotGraphs?” But first, an aside.

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Villabelle

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Against my better judgment, Villanelle Week continues.

Albert, we knew you as Joey then,
When yours was still a world with room for doubt,
Before you took your leave of lesser men.

You had a family once; you were a twin,
A model teammate and an Eagle Scout;
Albert, we knew you as Joey then.

Before the hurled balls, the cork, the gin,
Before the costumed vandals ranged about,
Before you took your leave of lesser men;

Before you had to face the pressing din
And twist your voice into a vulgar shout,
Albert, we knew you as Joey then.

You can’t have known the judges of your sin,
Or known the crushing sentence meted out,
Before you took your leave of lesser men;

That in black dreams you’d mourn what could have been,
And stalk those gilded halls that kept you out.
Albert, we knew you as Joey then,
Before you took your leave of lesser men.


Now Calling The Bullpen…

More on the new T-Mobile bullpen phone deal…

[scrippet]
EXT. WHITE SOX BULLPEN

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