HitTracking Miguel Olivo’s Raburn-Aided Home Run

In case you missed it, Miguel Olivo hit what will surely be in the running for Funniest Homer of 2011 in yesterday’s Mariners/Tigers game. You can check the video here.

Of course, when it comes to home runs, there’s no better resource than the fantastic HitTracker Online, which charts and stores every home run dating back to 2005. Their entry* for this home run is interesting, to say the least:


(Click to embiggen)

*Slightly edited by yours truly**
**Not to scale***
***Or well done


Want: Orioles F*ck Face T-Shirt

Embiggen! Be delighted! Grab your credit card!

The legend of Billy Ripken’s F*ck Face baseball card lives on, now in t-shirt form. As it should, I say.

From the folks at No Mas, where you can order the newest addition to your wardrobe:

Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

In the great whodunnit debate over this most precious of error cards, we say the wound was self-inflicted. How else would he have known to hold the bat so perfectly straight for the camera. The self-degradation provided the perfect cover for what may be the ultimate baseball prank.

You can have you your Cal, and your hall of fame plaque, and your fancy consecutive game streak, and your All-Americanosity. We love us some Billy.

Preach on, No Mas. Preach on.

Not just $34 well spent, but rather $34 very well spent.

Leaping chest bump: Old Time Family Baseball.


Image of the Day

This BBTF thread yields this stirring image plucked directly from the history books …

Indeed, on this dark day all seemed lost until Blast Furnace O’Dwyer showed up and, with a righteous Christian fury on loan from Increase Mather, cudgeled that murderous thunder lizard into a dead, bloodied pudding.

Our fair game — and our world — were saved.


More Jerky News Regarding MLB.TV for PS3


Still entirely relevant.

As noted previously in these electronic pages, Sony’s PlayStation Network went silent last Wednesday.

NotGraphs readers — particularly those who access MLB.TV through their PS3s — will be displeased to learn not only that (a) the Network is still down, almost a week later but that (b) there’s evidence that the security of some personal information has been compromised.

From the Sony’s PlayStation blog:

Although we are still investigating the details of this incident, we believe that an unauthorized person has obtained the following information that you provided: name, address (city, state, zip), country, email address, birthdate, PlayStation Network/Qriocity password and login, and handle/PSN online ID. It is also possible that your profile data, including purchase history and billing address (city, state, zip), and your PlayStation Network/Qriocity password security answers may have been obtained.

The Wall Street Journal referred today to the outage as “indefinite,” while Sony’s Senior Director of Corporate Communications & Social Media Patrick Seybold has suggested (in the above-cited blog post) that Sony has “a clear path to have PlayStation Network and Qriocity systems back online, and expect to restore some services within a week.”

You ask me, I think it’s time to greenlight the Seal incursion.

Credit to my enemy’s enemy, Grant Bisbee — or “Brisbee,” as some would have us believe.


Baseball’s One Crack at Paul Konerko

I came across an article in The New York Times yesterday, by the esteemed Tyler Kepner, about 35-year-old Chicago White Sox slugger Paul Konerko. In it, I learned that Konerko doesn’t subscribe to the “See the ball, hit the ball” mantra so many baseball players have found salvation in. Konerko, as the article points out, is more of an intellectual; a thinking man. And it was Konerko’s final quote in the piece, discussing his future as a potential hitting coach, that in turn got me thinking.

Never say never. But I’m thinking the game might only get one crack at me.

As someone who’s only ever been a recreational athlete, and having watched baseball my entire life wondering what it might be like to play the game at the elite MLB level, I was a bit taken aback by the quote. Baseball might only get one crack at Paul Konerko. Not the other way around — i.e., Paul Konerko might not get a second crack at the game.

I have to admit, I never thought of it that way. I always figured someone who plays baseball for a living — someone like Konerko, who’s made millions upon millions of dollars while doing it, and doing it well — was taking a crack at baseball.

But perhaps Konerko’s right. Baseball, after all, is a game of failure. It beats men down. And as I grow older, and I hope a very little bit wiser, I realize more and more that it’s that very aspect of baseball — failure, and overcoming it — that I love most about the game.

Paul Konerko, like so many others, chose to try and make a living playing baseball. It’s a tough road, with no guarantees. So many don’t make it. Konerko did. Baseball took its best shot, a fastball, at Konerko; it’s “crack.” Konerko recognized what was on the way, squared up, and slammed it down the left field line for a stand-up double.

Image via Curved White.


Get Yer Middleton Rookie Card

I was and am a Topps brand evangelist. Sure, as a kid I had a sherpa’s load of Fleer and Donruss cards lying around, but something about the Topps family of products inspired in me a consumerist loyalty I would not experience again until my discovery of fine Corinthian leather.

Why is this the case? It’s probably hail-fellow-well-met Manny Sanguillen. How can you see this expression of uncorrupted joy at the world about us …

… And not emerge from the experience with a love for everything everywhere? You cannot, say I.

Anyhow, I recently began purchasing Topps cards anew for my male human child, who will one day — provided he agrees not to follow his father into the absurd, toad-like existence of the liberal-arts major — inherit the full complement of my palatial holdings. And now comes this, a Topps innovation like none other

Sure, I don’t care a whit about the confluence of lowered expectations and bet-hedging known as a “wedding,” and I don’t care about the World’s Leading Preppies and their opulent rituals. But I do care about kings. Why? Because the very mention of such an ancient and now-mythical designation makes me think a unicorn or an elf might show up.

I won’t buy this — holy crap, I will not buy this — but knowing it’s out there makes me think of dragons. So thanks again, Topps. I very much look forward to once again giving you some U.S. currency in exchange for durable goods.


Fully Prepared for the Mets Game


Ready.

David Wright Jersey? Check.
Gotta represent for the tuffest dude on the team.

Mets hat and glasses? Check.
The sun can get in your eyes a little on the first base side, you know. Plus, makes me look like a badass.

Corncob pipe? Check.
A relaxing puff off the pipe always sets the mood right.

Carpet? Check.
Gotta keep the paws warm on a blustery spring day in New York.

Bag full of treats?
Check.
I mean, I love me some Shake Shack but that line is RUFF.

Tip jar? Check.
I mean, if I’m going to sit here looking this good, might as well let people show their appreciation. Monetarily.


Sports Computer Opportunity

So the well dressed ballroom dancers over at Seamheads.com are holding a contest. What do you have to do? Come up with an awesome nickname for a current player. If you prove better at this than the competing hordes, then what do you win? A copy of MLB2K11 for the Xbox 360 machine, which I assume is a series of motorized pulleys that runs on a standard 120-volt outlet.

Once again: Come up with a compelling baseball nickname, and your precious lucre will be a board-certified copy of MLB2K11.


Photo: David Price and Hand Puppet


David Price has benefited greatly from play therapy.

There’s clearly a lot to enjoy about this photo — the fact that a talented major leaguer is wearing a hand puppet, the expression (which seems to say, “I don’t necessarily like you, but I respect the hell out of you”) on said major leaguer’s face, etc.

In this case, I’d like to draw attention to the angle in which Price’s cap is resting on his head — an exact replica, as it turns out, of the manner in which Dickens’ Artful Dodger wore his hat.

Image stolen directly from TampaBay.com. Brought to the author’s attention via the scrappy, always hustling Erik Hahnmann.


Fondest Monkey Dreams

If you will, please part the ever-thickening mists of time and think back to when we first met those blessed purveyors of miracles, Team Ghost Riders. If you were as moved as I was by what you witnessed — and indubitably you were — then you no doubt have been roused from sleep each night by a gnawing curiosity: Who is the patriot behind Team Ghost Riders, who have brought so much righteous joy to minor-league ballparks across this, the world’s only country?

Wonder no more, page viewers. Wonder no more …

I’m not sure if the quote is an original or something lifted from the Magna Carta, but it is surely among the greatest of all human utterances: “And in 1962 a little boy was born, and his dream and his goal was to own a monkey.”

Absorb it. Know it. Fathom it. Now repeat it: “And in 1962 a little boy was born, and his dream and his goal was to own a monkey.”