i just submitted an F1-related photo to sadjoshhamilton.tumblr.com and i hope it’s good enough to be posted
i just submitted an F1-related photo to sadjoshhamilton.tumblr.com and i hope it’s good enough to be posted
can we get some more reblogs for sadjoshjamilton it’s a great blog that no one reblogs and i feel that’s bullshit
tumblr loves pizza so they’ll probably like the infamous “here comes the pizza” incident, which coincidentally occured on 4/15
I still haven’t seen the David Freese home run in Game 6 of the 2011 World Series.
I didn’t have to. I knew that it was coming. I saw it in my mind. It had a be a home run. I had to be then. I haven’t seen the hit and yet, I can safely label it the worst moment of my entire life.
I know what that sounds like. It sounds like an exaggeration or an off the cuff remark you would say at a sports bar to prove your dedication to the drunk next to you, but I promise you that it’s earnest. I don’t call the end of Game 6 the worst moment in my life to garner any sympathy, companionship, or empathy. It’s simply the truth. It was a moment that I’ll be dealing with in some way for a long while. To better help you understand, I’ll paint the picture of my world shattering that night. The beginning is always a good place to start a story, no matter how delayed.
Though I’ve lived in Texas since 1990, I didn’t become an active Texas Rangers fan until high school in 1999. I say active, because this was the first time I actively sought out the sport and the team, rather than just tag along to games for free Pudge tshirts that I would wear into my twenties. The team excited me. Without the burden of friends or girls showing interest in me, I could get lost in a game on a Friday night. Hell, the team was good. At least for me, they were. Though I watched the games, I had a lukewarm understanding of the rules, the other teams, and what good stats looked like. I just enjoyed the crack of the bat and the fluids of fielding. As with all first loves, I strayed a tad during college, but I went right back into hardball’s loving arms during my junior year and rode the exponential rise in my fandom from there on out.
I dove headfirst into the game. I learned the minor league teams, studied stats, learned deeper stats not available on prima facie, and became obsessed with everything Texas Rangers. I scoured for ticket deals and managed to squeeze out 10+ games a year on a non-profit, liberal arts degree career. Where polos once hung now saw Michael Young throwback jerseys, Ian Kinsler shirseys, and minor league shirts for Justin Smoak. And as if the baseball Gods had begun to notice my cannonball into the unknown of this sport, I was rewarded with a team that did better and better every year. And not just better, but more exciting.
Players were joining the 20-20 club left and right. Cycles were being chased and sometimes achieved. My favorite player of all time destroyed records in the Home Run Derby in old Yankee Stadium. It was the beginning of a beautiful wave forming for the Texas Rangers and their fans. The lover who spurned us and others for decades upon decades finally changed into the winner we always hoped. Someone we could take home to Mom and Dad and be proud of.
The rest of the story is written and I do not have to bore you with the long details of 2010 or most of 2011. We were a bankrupt team that achieved the unthinkable. We were a one legged, poor David taking down a Goliath with $200M and Derek Jeter in his back pocket. 2010 was so unexpected that even though the Rangers were absolutely crushed in the World Series, there was a welcome home parade and fan summit. I commemorated the berth with a Rangers tattoo.
2011 was different, though it did not feel that way. The fans that sat to the left and right of me all season didn’t expect another World Series appearance. No one did. We were happy. Most of the band was still together, with a few pieces of E-Street caliber guys. And yet, a part of us didn’t want to imagine the heartbreak of what to do when we truly expected a ring and failed. And like the baseball Gods heard us once again, the wave reached its crest.
2011 Game 6 was our death. Game 7 was the funeral. I felt a loss that I’ve never felt before and wish upon no one. It was like the whole world conspired against the Rangers. My stomach hurt. I couldn’t talk. I walked home in the rain after Cruz missed the catch. I knew what was coming. The cruel history of a cruel world.
It’s not just a game. That’s the one point that I want to drive home to everyone who wants to understand baseball. It can be your entire life. It can be your religion. You become so invested in something, that the ups and downs begin to mirror your life. I went to grief therapy for 6 weeks after the 2011 World Series. I had bleeding stomach ulcers. I had reoccurring nightmares, which I later confirmed that our radio announcer Eric Nadel also experienced. It’s so much more than a game.
And yet, despite all of that, this is what I love so much about baseball. It allows me to feel those feelings in a way I never thought possible. The peaks and valleys of emotion are in itself beautiful. I’ll always have the memories of the meteoric rise of 2010 and 2011 and I’ll always be thankful for those the blessing of those feelings. How lucky are we to have something that can send us down the gamut of human emotion in 9 short innings? The Rangers will no doubt make me happy, sad, and oftentimes frustrated through 162 games in a year, but I’ll always be there for them, and they’ll always be there for me; permanently inked on the back of my right leg.
Lee Knox is a resident of Dallas, Texas, where he lives with his wife Shannon and his Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Dr. Dorian. He was the top editor for #sports on Tumblr for the entirety of 2012. He has never caught a foul ball or a home run. Follow him on Tumblr or Twitter.
Doctors Without Borders is an international medical organization that provides independent, impartial assistance in more than 60 countries to people whose survival has been threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe. Please help them by giving what you can and donating here.
You’ve awoken in a hellscape. Your thoughts, your feelings are no longer your own. Were you drugged? You must have been because otherwise why would everything be so bright and your head be filled with fluff? Is this the work of a madman or just the run off of Eli Roth’s imagination?
Or maybe it’s just the Winnie the Pooh Home Run Derby.
Don Larsen and Yogi Berra, World Series Game 5, Oct. 8, 1956 New York Yankees pitcher Don Larsen hugs catcher Yogi Berra (8) after pitching the only perfect game in World Series history, at Yankee Stadium. The Yankees would win the Series in seven games. (via 100 Greatest Sports Photos of All Time - SI.com)
In one of the most iconic plays in baseball history, Giants outfielder Willie Mays chases down a long fly ball during Game 1 of the 1954 World Series. The catch secured a Giants 5-2 victory on their way to a World Series sweep. (AP)
Earlier today, Kevin Youkilis signed a one year, $12 million contract with the New York Yankees. Unfortunately, this fractured our current timeline into three, separate, distinct, and terrifying futures.
It will be up to our NASA scientists, the ones who created this chart, to re-align us onto the proper path. The only problem? We’ll never know if we’re in the proper timeline until it’s too late.
(for hi-res version, one that may give you some chance of reading the writing, click here)
May god help us all.
Obit of the Day (Breaking): Former Baseball Union Head Marvin Miller
Marvin Miller, the man who led the way for baseball free agency (and, in turn, free agency for all other professional sports), has passed away at the age of 95. Miller led the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) beginning with its formation in 1966 until his retirement in 1982.
Miller was a labor economist who had worked with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) and the United Steelworkers before coming over to assist the major league baseball players. In 1968 he led the first successful collective bargaining agreement with MLB raising the minimum salary of ball players by 67%, from $6,000 to $10,000. Four years later the players struck for the first time - for all of 13 days - earning an increase in pension payments and the addition of arbitration to the collective bargaining agreement.
A year later, Miller partnered with St. Louis Cardinals outfielder, Curt Flood, to fight the decades old “reserve clause.” The clause allowed owners to re-sign players to one-year contracts in perpetuity if they player and team could not come to a salary agreement. It also allowed players to be traded at any time without input or agreement. The Cardinals attempted to trade Flood to the Philadelphia and he refused the trade.
Miller recommended that he sue baseball and Flood did. Flood v. Kuhn (1970) would eventually end up in front of the U.S. Supreme Court. Unfortunately Flood lost and would never play again but MLB created the “10/5” (aka, The Curt Flood Rule) that allowed players who had played ten seasons, and five with the same team, to veto any trade.
In 1974 Marvin Miller began to make inroads against the reserve clause. First he sued Oakland A’s owner Charlie Finley in 1974 for violating the contract of his star pitcher Jim “Catfish” Hunter. An arbitrator agreed and Hunter became free to sign with any team. Hunter signed a five-year contract for $3.5 million with the NY Yankees - an unheard of sum up to that point.
The following year, Miller encouraged pitchers Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally to not re-sign their contract and take MLB to arbitration. After the hearing, the arbitrator decided that both players had fulfilled their contracts and they need not re-sign with their teams. The floodgates to free agency had opened wide.
Miller told the story in Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball that originally every player in MLB would become free agents the following year but owners were so worried about that prospect that they demanded that free agency be limited to certain veterans. Miller was happy to comply because it created a scarcity, which would raise salaries. He was right.
In 1965, the year before Miller joined the MLBPA the average players salary was $14,361 (in 1965 dollars) . When Miller retired in 1982 it was $245,000. For the 2011 season it was $3.1 million.
Famed Brooklyn Dodgers broadcaster, Red Barber, called Marvin Miller “one of the two or three most important men in baseball history” after Babe Ruth and Jackie Robinson.
(Image of Marvin Miller, right, with Curt Flood, 1970, is copyright of AP and courtesy of ThePoint)