Finding Inspiration

This is the first time I've returned to this blog since August of last year.

I'm not sure why I stopped. I have some ideas.

A new job. A new job with really difficult hours. A wedding proposal. A wedding that needs planned. Projects around the house. Other social media outlets like Facebook and Twitter taking up too much time.

Life in general seems to have run me over like a steamroller.

My poor blog isn't alone in it's neglect. My DVR has about 60-70 shows recorded that I most likely will never see.

I think something else has kept me away as well.

The plain and simple fact is, I really wasn't sure what to write about anymore. I don't want this to be an outlet for rants. Nor do I want to expose too much of my "real" life here.

I've also been promising to come back. Yet, that hasn't seemed to happen.

Well, I'm going to give it an honest effort. Probably more of an effort than I ever have before.

Why?

Well, I found some inspiration. And it came in the form of a major league baseball player, of all things.

Dirk Hayhurst is currently a pitcher for the Toronto Blue Jays.

He grew up in Stark County, like me. He went to Kent State, like me.

But, that's where our similarities end. I washed out of baseball in high school, Dirk is a big leaguer.

But, Dirk isn't necessarily famous, nor has he ever been what you might call a "prospect." He was an 8th round pick, who, I discovered, was on the verge of quitting the game when he finally got called up to the big leagues.

But, if Dirk didn't make the majors, he had a plan. He began writing down his fears, his doubts, and all those tales of life in the minor leagues.

He blogged on a regular basis. His column was called the "Non-Prospect Diary." This is where I first ran across Dirk Hayhurst.

If you haven't read his work, Dirk is no dumb jock trying to ape Shakespeare. Hayhurst has a gift for the written word, his columns are funny and honest. And now and again, they make you think.

They were so good, in fact, that a publisher asked Dirk to write a book about his experiences. An auto-biography. At the age of 28.

Well, that book is being published in March. It's called the Bullpen Gospels. And, Dirk Hayhurst is getting noticed now more than ever.

Keith Olbermann has written a glowing review of the book. Say what you will about Olbermann's politics, but he's always been a gifted writer. And a baseball nut, to boot.

And he's not alone in saying good things. Bob Costas has given the book a thumbs up. So have other notable sports writers.

With this in mind, I recently made contact with Dirk, to see if he'd like to appear on a news program I work for. He leaped at the opportunity.

As I spoke to him before and after his interview, I couldn't have been more impressed. Dirk is a funny, outgoing, humble guy. A guy who, as a co-worker told me afterward, you would have no idea is a big-leaguer. A guy who you feel like you've known for 10 years, after talking to him for 10 minutes.

He's a person who now feels like he can take the world by the horns, after struggling for so long in his chosen profession. He has big plans, big goals, big dreams.

I really treasured my short time with Dirk, not because he's a baseball player, but because he's a heckuva human being.

So, I thought about it some more. No more excuses. I'm going to write. And hopefully write a lot.

I doubt I have Dirk's talent for the written word. And I know I don't have his talent for throwing a curveball. But, if something so simple can make such a profound change in his life, why can't it make mine a little brighter as well?

And all it takes is a few words here, and a few words there.

So, I'm back. My reason for being here still isn't clear. But, maybe that will come.

Oh, and one other thing. Dirk just had arm surgery. He'll miss at least half of the upcoming season, perhaps more. But, nothing can get Dirk Hayhurst down these days.

So, do me a favor. And do Dirk a favor. If you like baseball, buy his book. If you don't like baseball, buy it anyways. Because I'm told it's not just a sports story, it's a life story.

I know that seems like a commercial, but for inspiring me to make things happen, it's the least I can do for him.

(By the way, here's Dirk's interview)

I'm Out ... of the Tribe.

I preface this post by saying ... I'm a baseball fan.

Always have been ... always will be ... it's far and away my favorite sport.

And the Cleveland Indians are my favorite team.

But, I'm staging an intervention for myself, because I can't take this anymore.

You see, my favorite team is staggering out of the gates yet again, starting this season at 0-5.

While the hitting is strong, the pitching looks horrible, and the fundamentals are ... well, fundamentally missing.

So it pains me to write the following words.

The Cleveland Indians are dead to me. At least until changes are made.

This off-season began with me fighting a ticket salesman with the team, a saga that I outlined here and here.

Then, the team's GM, whose name I shall no longer speak, swung some deals. However, in doing so he ignored the squad's weak starting pitching ... and a number of bargains on the free agent market.

Then, to top it off, that very weakness caused the Indians' horrible start to the season.

And this isn't the first time the Tribe has stumbled out of the gates. It seems to be a trademark of the skipper, whose name I shall also no longer speak.

I've decided I can't do this anymore. I can't wear the gear. I can't live and die with every pitch.

So, until the the aforementioned nameless GM and Manager are dismissed, I'm done.

Sure, I'll still watch. I'll even go to the ballpark (maybe when they cut ticket prices in half once the team is out of contention and they're desperate for fans).

But, I can't bring myself to root, root, root for the home team anymore. Not like I used to.

Now, some of you may call me a fair-weather fan ... someone who will jump back on the bandwagon when the team succeeds again.

That's not going to happen. I've lost faith in the stewards of this team. And I don't believe a playoff berth is in the Indians 2009 plans.

Now, we both know I'll never be able to say goodbye completely, after all, I'm a baseball fan and they're the team I rooted for since I was a little kid with a big plastic bat in my hands.

But somehow, the joy is gone.

I'll root like I did in the 70's and 80's ... more casually, and no longer expecting greatness.

So, Mr. Dolan, do us long-time supporters a favor, and sacrifice your geniuses to the baseball gods.

Maybe then, I can once again hope to reach the top of the mountain.

A Grab-Bag

I've been remiss in writing for a few days ... so today, you get a mash-up of a few topics.

1. The future

Last night, I was invited by my alma mater, Kent State, to speak at a "Careers Over Coffee" event on the subject of journalism. Yes, the irony was profound.

The panel was an interesting mix ... a 1953 grad and longtime Plain Dealer reporter, the 1989 grad and former Beacon Journal editor turned instructor, then there's the '93 grad and representative of the broadcast genre (me!), and the 2003 grad and writer for Cleveland Magazine.

A couple tips for anyone hoping to have a session like for journalists.

First, leave more than 45 minutes, because we can TALK. And talk. And talk.

Secondly, it might be better to have more upperclassmen than underclassmen in this session. I got the impression this group didn't really know what they wanted to do with their lives just yet.

Thirdly, a positive step. None of the panel hid the fact that the media is in a tough spot right now. We stressed that opportunity is there, but it's going to be harder than ever to break in. It seems their professors are giving them the same message. Which is good, because, while I loved my profs back in the day, I think they failed in setting us up with the "real-world" view that was needed once you went pro.

All in all, a decent night, the current crop of Kent State students was way too quiet for my liking ... they may have been too young to be anything more than overwhelmed.

2. The past

Like a lot of baseball fans, I was glued to the A-Rod/Steroids interview on ESPN.

My first thought was, "Wow, a body language expert would have a field day with this."

What was with him constantly looking to the right? Was his lawyer standing there? Was Gammons on the clock? Was Madonna pole dancing in the corner?

Also, you could tell A-Rod had been prepped with talking points, as he loses his way about midway through his first answer.

What's my take?

Well, I give him credit for the admission, even if it did follow a lie to 60 Minutes.

But, someone asked me what the fallout would be?

To me? None.

Look, this may sound jaded, but there is absolutely not a single name that could come out as being a steroids user that would surprise me. Ripken? Nope. Gwynn? Nope. Maddux? Maybe (but only because his gut was a thing of legend in baseball clubhouses.)

Also, look, the players weren't alone. The trainers, GMs, and owners were just as complicit in perpetuating the Steroid Era as the players taking the junk.

After all, chicks dig the long ball.

3. More Of The Past

Staying on the baseball theme, this morning's news about a lawsuit contending Robby Alomar and AIDS is a little stunning.

But, this goes back to my prior point.

When I was a kid, I idolized players. Mike Hargrove, Roger Clemens, guys like that.

Now, I find myself rooting for the team, the uniform ... not the individual players.

Sure, I love watching Grady Sizemore hit as much as the next fan. But, I do so knowing that he's likely leave the Indians after 2012, and I can't get too attached.

Also, and I've learned this the hard way, a lot of pro athletes aren't the best role models off the field.

Face it everyone, baseball (and sports) is filled with young, single, hard-partying, sexual conquesting Alpha males.

Always have been, always will be.

If I was in their shoes, I'd probably be the same guy, sadly. Young, single, and rich, without a care in the world.

However, the closer I got to these guys over the last 15 years, the more I realized that I could no longer put them on the pedestal they once sat atop.

I'll always be a baseball fan ... but I love the sport, the game, the story, not necessarily the players.

4. Born To Run.

I know I talked in depth about my love for Bruce Springsteen and his halftime performance at the Super Bowl.

Some loved it, some hated it.

But, I will say this, Bruce Springsteen can WRITE. And not just songs.

Please, read this diary that he wrote about the Super Bowl experience.

Never have I read something so well-written about a 12-minute performance.

It really does put you in his shoes as to why he wanted to do this, and what goes through a performer's mind when they're on the largest stage in the world.

Also, to give you more incentive to read, Cleveland gets name-dropped as Bruce finally playing before an audience he always hoped to see. Good stuff there.

It's just one more small reason that this is one man who will always be a favorite of mine.

Swing And A Miss

Well, if you've followed my blog ... you saw my letter to the Cleveland Indians sales department, informing them why I would not be purchasing tickets prior to the 2009 season.

15 days went by before I got a response from the account executive.

It came yesterday via e-mail. The exact same pitch to buy tickets ... word for word ... basically, a form letter.

So, my new friend in the front office got another e-mail from me, asking for his supervisor's name and explaining how disappointed I was that I received a second, identical pitch when the concerns of my first letter were not addressed.

The account executive got back to me, after a delay, during which I'm guessing he frantically tried to find my previous e-mail.

He explained his supervisor was out of the office this week, and that my prior e-mail likely ended up caught in a spam filter. He said this despite the fact that my most recent e-mails went through just fine.

I thanked him, but still insisted upon his supervisor's e-mail, which I received in a one line message.

So, another e-mail went off to both the supervisor ... and, for the heck of it, Indians President Paul Dolan.

Surprisingly, I got a very nice letter back from the supervisor, apologizing for the customer service, and assuring me it would be taken care of. I responded with a thank you, especially considering how the account executive mentioned he was out of the office.

Plain and simple, the Indians aren't just inept on the field ... but in their sales department. I was flat out lied to by a salesman trying to peddle tickets to me.

As a fan who's always supported the team through off-season ticket purchases, that really made me angry, and strengthened my resolve to just buy tickets at the gate for any game I might want to see in 2009.

Sorry, Cleveland Indians, I tossed you a fastball over the plate, and you took a big swing and a miss.

One more strike, and you're out.

Running? What the Devil?!?!

Well, I'm trying something new with my down time ... running.

It's a big leap for me, because, frankly, I'm not a runner.

It's not the act itself that worries me ... it's the huge mental block I have towards the activity.

You see, I grew up a baseball player. And in baseball, running is punishment.

We would begin practice indoors in March, and play catch in the school gym.

Coach would say "Every time I hear a bad throw rattle off the bleachers ... the team runs a lap." Needless to say. you grew to hate that noise ... and those laps.

Then, once we moved outdoors, we would end particularly bad practices with the baseball version of a suicide. It involved running out a single, double, triple, and home run .. from home plate ... in succession ... at full speed.

Now, running 90 feet as hard as you can, followed by 180, 270, and 360 doesn't sound like a lot. But, as John Kruk once so eloquently said, "Honey, I ain't an athlete, I'm a baseball player."

So, running has always been a bad, bad thing in my mind.

But, since I have some time on my hands, need to get outdoors, and frankly, need something to take my mind off my situation ... I'm giving it a shot.

Look, I'm never gonna run a marathon ... nor would I ... because frankly, I'd lose interest a few miles in. And, I vow to never be one of those people who feel the need to tell you how many miles they ran that day.

I don't look graceful doing it. I don't feel graceful doing it. All I'm trying to do is avoid hearing my old Coach yell "That's another lap!"

But, if it keeps me moving ... I'll give it a shot.

On The Move

Well, being out of work has its perks I guess ... as I took my mind off the job search for 3 days ... and had some fun.

Thursday, a friend and I went to the Hocking Hills State Park ... for a little hiking. It's a great park with a lot of interesting rock formations ...

We ended up climbing up, down and all around a bunch of ravines ... probably about 6-7 miles in all ... and not easy miles. Other than me sweating like a pig, it was a great time. Pictures to come.

We grabbed a little dinner in C-bus on the way back ... my first ever trip to PF Chang's was a solid one.

Friday, I became the last person in America to see The Dark Knight. Good, fun, movie ... and for 2 1/2 hours long ... it really kept moving pretty well. Heath Ledger is amazing, and Christian Bale has redefined Bruce Wayne. Plus, apparently he's now also going to play an adult John Connor in the new Terminator movie, so he shouldn't have to worry about his checks bouncing.

After the flick, we took in an Aeros game. I love watching minor league baseball. It's a great, family atmosphere, plus you get to see some Indians of the future.

Saturday, more baseball, as we took advantage of some free tickets to catch the Tribe and Angels at Progressive Field. It was a sloppy game, but wanted to mention one aspect of it.

It was a "Turn Back The Clock" game at the Prog ... so they tried to recreate the way things were in 1948. That meant turning off the giant scoreboard, except for a recreation of the old board at Municipal Stadium.

It also meant no one yelling at me between innings from said scoreboard, no between-inning music (except for some fake organ stuff), and no walk-up music for batters.

Can I tell you how much better this was? You see, I'm a baseball purist ... I hate that ballparks and arenas have to entertain every waking moment of the game. So, today, the ballpark was kind of quiet ... and I liked it.

I did miss my statistics and the out-of-town scoreboard (especially with a 1st place fantasy team) ... but, man, I'd take a music-free day at the park any day of the week.

Of course, the Tribe couldn't stick to their "no video" policy on the big board, because they showed a wedding proposal in the 8th inning.

For the record, the proposals were cute when they happened a few times a year. Now, it's just a little cheesy to see them each and every game.

C'mon guys ... can't you do better than a ballpark engagement?

Sports Heresy

Yes, it's officially that time of the year when I become a bad, bad fan.

You see, I'm an avid fantasy baseball player, in a highly competitive league.

There might even be some money on the line, but I can't confirm that, because Uncle Sam considers fantasy sports gambling.

Now, to confess my sins.

It's one of those years, where my favorite team, the Cleveland Indians, have given up and are out of contention.

Oddly enough, though, my fantasy team is in 1st place. Barely.

So, who do I root for?

Well, my rules have always gone like this:

1. Root for the Indians above all.
2. Should the Indians not be competing, and my fantasy team is, switch allegiances.

So yes folks, if one of my fantasy starting pitchers tosses against the Tribe ... I'm rooting for the Tribe to go down.

I'll be at the game this Saturday against the Angels. Neither pitcher is on my team. Which is good, I can root for the Indians.

But, if the Angels' Chone Figgins happens to go 5-5 with a couple steals, I wouldn't complain.

Hamilton a hero?

Anyone who passed on Major League Baseball's Home Run Derby missed quite a show last night.

Texas Rangers outfielder Josh Hamilton set a derby record by launching 28 homers in the first round. And they were some moon shots ... huge, towering, 500 foot drives.

For those of you who don't know ... Hamilton's story will be made into a movie someday.

He was the top pick in the draft, but eventually blew all his money on drugs, missing almost two full seasons due to a heroin addiction.

Now, he's back, fighting his demons, and an MVP candidate. A remarkable turnaround.

However, the Hamilton story brought up a pet peeve of mine. The overuse of the word "hero."

I consider "heroes" to be people who put their lives on the line every day ... soldiers, police officers, firemen ...

So, no, I don't consider Hamilton to be a hero.

I do think he's an inspiration, though. If hitting long ball after long ball last night convinces one person battling their addictions to get their life back together, then he's accomplished much more off the field than he has on the diamond.

I just hope that when his movie script is eventually written ... it has a happy ending.

Oh, and if you want to read more on Hamilton, by writers much better than I, check out these stories today:

Peter Gammons' take

Jayson Stark's story

Steve Buckley's article

Seeya CC

Well, it had to happen. And it did. By all reports the hammer has dropped on the Indians trading CC Sabathia to Milwaukee.

I'm a realist about baseball. You can't get too attached to the players you love, especially in a market like Cleveland.

That being said, I'm a little sad to see CC go.

He and I go way back. In fact, the first time I saw him pitch, was for the Akron Aeros back in 2000. I was working overnights at the time, and the Aeros were playing an afternoon, weekday double-header. The attraction ... Sabathia was pitching Game 1, and Danys Baez (the Tribe's hotshot Cuban signing) was starting Game 2.

CC looked HUGE in person ... and I remember an even bigger batter taking him yard. Still, it was pretty impressive. (By the way, Baez got ejected in Game 2 for throwing at a batter.)

I also remember being at then-Jacobs Field the very next season for CC's major league debut. He was just 20 years old, and had made the team out of spring training. Even more fun than watching CC on the hill, was sitting a few rows behind his mother, who was cheering as loud as she could for her little boy.

CC didn't win that day ... but he quickly won over the crowd.

So, now, CC is a Brewer. Probably never to return. The economics of the sport make deals like this happen ... and they'll keep trading favorites unless Mark Cuban buys the team.

So, I wish CC well ...

Oh, and by the way, if the names we're getting in this trade are correct, I think Mark Shapiro got fleeced. I'm ok with the stud hitter (LaPorta) ... but a lousy AAA pitcher and a closer-in-waiting in "A" ball ... I think we could have done better.

If that's the real deal ... and I'll wait to see if it is ... I am considering renouncing the Indians until Wedge and Shapiro are gone.

In the meantime, Go Cubs!

(EDIT: After posting this, new reports came out that a young 3B/2B may be the PTBNL in the deal. If that's the case, I may hold off on renouncing my fandom. Consider it in limbo right now.)

This is MY team?!?!?!

OK ... so I've pretty much established how geeky I am about baseball. That's why this Indians season is absolutely killing me.

As I sit here and write this, the Tribe has slipped to last place, 10 games below .500, and 11.5 behind the first place White Sox.

In case you're wondering, there are only 4(!) teams in all of baseball with worse records.

Friends know about my baseball geekdom ... and ask me what the team should do. I'm not real sure.

Here's the problem as I see it ... most small-market teams, like the Indians, have a small window to win it all. And as I see it, the Tribe's window is slamming shut.

Trading guys like Sabathia, Byrd and Blake is probably a good start. But, let look into the crystal ball for 2009 ... I'm not real hopeful.

Let's start with the good. Victor Martinez and Grady Sizemore should continue to be special players. That's about it.

Now, the not-so-good. Around the infield, we have a 1B in Ryan Garko that doesnt generate a ton of power or average. We have question marks at 2B regarding both Asdrubal Cabrera and Josh Barfield. Jhonny Peralta doesn't look to be a "special" player at shortstop. And 3B is a black hole, unless Wes Hodges comes along FAST.

Besides Sizemore, we have Ben Francisco, Shin-Soo Choo and Franklin Guiterrez in the OF. No offense to any of them, but they ALL feel like fourth outfielders to me.

And, I have to be honest (without using the dreaded "S" word), I think Travis Hafner is done.

The starting rotation is in shambles. You have to assume Sabathia and Byrd are gone, and with Jake Westbrook out for a year ... that leaves Fausto Carmona, Cliff Lee and Aaron Laffey as your 1-2-3. Yikes. Carmona was showing severe control problems this year, and I love Laffey as a 5, but not as a 3. Oh, and Jeremy Sowers isn't a major-league quality arm. Let's just accept that.

Did I mention we won't have a closer either?

So, what would I do? I'd start playing for next year NOW. Give Andy Marte consistent playing time at 3B, to see what you have. If he flames out, cut him and don't worry about the consqeuences.

Or, shift Peralta to third, Cabrera to SS, and Barfield stays at 2B (when they're healthy). I'd seriously think about moving Victor to 1B, and giving Kelly Shoppach more time behind the plate.

You can't tinker too much with the rotation, other than hoping you get a close-to-ready hurler in return for Sabathia, and pray that David Huff or the perenially-injured Adam Miller are close to ready.

As for the pen? Shift Kobayashi to closer NOW ... to see if he can do the job. That way you can set up the pieces for next year.

But, there's what makes me mad. I think the front office is too concerned about the fans and attendance (and they probably have to be) to do what's right. Sabathia should have been traded in the off-season ... in order to reap the benefits.

Take a look at what the White Sox did. They traded one of their top starters to fill a hole at shortstop. It worked. They gave up a minor-league prospect for Carlos Quentin. Check. Oh, they took advantage of the "sell-mode" A's to pick up Nick Swisher. Not a big win yet, but for what they gave up, not bad.

The A's also managed to rebuild in one season ... by trading some key pieces.

C'mon Mark Shapiro ... have the guts to do something aggressive, no matter if the fans scream. You know what, I'd be open to trading anyone on this team, short of Sizemore, if the deal was right.

I'll always be a Tribe fan, but it's getting harder to do.

Ode To Omar

I couldn't help but smile when I read this piece in the Plain Dealer this morning.

For the record, I'm way too old to idolize ballplayers like I did when I was a kid. Baseball has always been a business, and these guys are commodities. Especially in Cleveland, you can't afford to get too attached to them.

That being said, Omar Vizquel was the one guy I loved to watch ON the field.

We had a rough start however. I was living in Rockford, Illinois in 1994, the year then-Jacobs Field opened. Being a lifelong Indians fan, it killed me to be out of town when the new ballpark swung open its gates. So, I booked a flight, and came back into town to see the place.

The Tribe had the makings of a good team. And we had traded for a good-field, no-hit shortstop named Vizquel.

Needless to say, I wasn't real thrilled to see this glove wizard make not one, not two, but THREE errors in the game I traveled in to see. (A 12-9 Indians loss to the Royals on April 16, 1994)

But, gradually, his plays became more and more amazing in the field. But, it was what he did BETWEEN innings that turned into my greatest memory.

I had somehow gotten 2 passes into my then-employer's loge, and took my buddy Mike. Needless to say, we were greatly enjoying the free food and beer, when the moment happened.

The Indians were warming up in the field between innings, when the catcher (Sandy Alomar, I think), rifled his throw down to second. Omar was fielding at the bag, and as the ball arrived, he just crossed his arms.

He didn't so much catch the ball, as deflect it directly off his glove, right to Robby Alomar, who was standing next to him. Alomar then fired it around the horn to end warmups.

My reacton in the loge was something like "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

That's when Mike said, without even turning to look at me, "I'm so happy you saw that. Because I wouldn't even know how to describe it to you."

We may have been the only ones in the ballpark that day to see it. And it remains a great story to this day.

When Omar's career is done, I'd love to see the Tribe sign him to a 1-day contract, like some others have done, and allow him to retire as an Indian.

(And while I'm at it, good luck to a fellow Kent Stater, Emmanuel Burris, who will likely succeed Vizquel as the Giants shortstop.)