It’s plays like this that made me happy to give up my centerfield position and take over at shortstop.
Many Little Leaguers could empathize with [Brett] Gardner, when the Yankees left fielder lost Davis’ flyball in the fourth despite wearing shades. While ranging back onto the warning track with his glove up, Gardner took several awkward shuffle steps and fell on his backside as the ball bounced off the dirt just a foot or two behind him and into the crowd. Gardner was initially given an error but postgame it was changed to a double.
At first, I thought shortstop was a demotion because, “Bucky Dent doesn’t hit any home runs!” But then the coach reminded me:
The announcer was Bill White. When I die, I hope they just put old ball games on an iPod and let me listen to his voice as I drift off.
so true.
so true.
………………………
Inequality Is the New Affirmative Action–for White People
It’s become the go-to populist term for white middle-class rage over the wealth gap, and another way for politicians to avoid difficult conversations about race.
By: Charles D. Ellison
Posted: July 23 2015 3:00 AM
With 2016 on the horizon, presidential candidates are all on the new policy-wonk flavor of the year: “inequality.”
And they’re using it in a heated bid to win as many white votes as they can get.
Interestingly enough, the cognoscenti once talked up the canyon-sized gaps between rich and poor as default markers for a broader conversation on the inequality we always knew: racism. Today “inequality” is an umbrella term for all sorts of unequal conditions that are in neatly constructed sociological silos: economic insecurity keeping its distance from racial inequality, even though, as policy expert Kathleen Geier correctly notes, “they are closely intertwined.”
Now it’s as if “inequality” has quickly evolved into the go-to populist expression of middle-class white voting rage–conveniently segregated from that uglier conversation on race. It’s what a largely white field of Democratic and Republican candidates now use to show authenticity when street cred is questioned.
On the left, Hillary Clinton feverishly embraces inequality when she’s viewed as too cozy with Wall Street; Bernie Sanders continues his love affair with inequality because, well, who doesn’t hate Wall Street? Even Republicans, from red-state firebrands like Texas Sen. Ted Cruz and former Pennsylvania Sen. Rick Santorum to the less Tea Party-aligned such as Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul and former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, are clumsily fashioning themselves as proponents of the poor.
So long as you don’t mention the underserved people of color whom inequality hits the hardest. These days, “inequality” discourse has gone the way of hip-hop: co-opted. Once an exclusive narrative of black plight, anti-oppressor themes are watered down so that white electorates can feel less guilty and fearful. It’s then, for example, better to say that everyone is unequal rather than to admit #BlackLivesMatter.
http://www.theroot.com/articles/politics/2015/07/inequality_is_the_new_affirmative_action_for_white_
people.html
What could be a better metaphor for American aspirations of an egalitarian society than baseball? From sandlots to the majors it’s close to perfect in all ways.
Coincidental that income and wealth inequality increased as football overtook baseball as the #1 spectator sport?
To everyone but Yankee fans (especially Red Sox fans), Bucky Dent’s middle name is Fucking. </correction>
Yes, and it is such sweet music.
Ah, one of the great moments from my childhood. Used to watch games with across-the-street neighbor, Eric, a big Mets fan. In the preseason, the Mets and Yanks would play. One time the Mets were up by 9 or more runs in the 9th and the Yanks came back to crush ’em. Of course those games were just for bragging rights. Our teams never played during the season back then. We’d watch the standings as the Mets immediately fell to the bottom. I gave Eric so much shit.
That year, “78, the Yankees seemed to fall out of contention. Eric was lording it over me day after day when I finally lost my temper and proceeded to tell him my team was going to come back strong and win the pennant, something even I didn’t believe, before stomping off.
Then the Sox slumped and the Yanks came on strong. Billy Martin had been replaced by Bob Lemon, who seemed to have the right medicine for this team of charismatic narcissists. Suddenly the Yanks had turned me into Carnac. They were up a few games coming down the stretch. Then things reversed and the season ended in a maddening, tortuous tie.
So there we were, watching on the little 19 inch black and white tv in my parents’ den as the “78 Sox, one of the best teams I’ve ever seen, took on the Yankees at Fenway. I was scared. Eric was licking his chops, thinking he was finally going to get back at me for years of lording the Yankees’ success over him. Looking back, I can see why. I was an ass.
Tough game. The Sox were up. Their pitching was superb. So was their hitting. Mike Torrez was throwing a great game. They had relief pitchers up the wazoo. Jim Rice was a monster. The guy was known to occasionally hit home runs over the Green Monster on check swings. Yaz had already homered and was such a clutch player (even at 37). If he didn’t hit another, Fisk or Lynn or Evans or Scott surely would. Unable to get the ball out of the infield, it seemed like the Yanks were done.
But the thing about green monsters is they cut both ways. Little Bucky Dent — fuckin’ Bucky Dent to you — did the unthinkable with a bat that Mickey Rivers said had a home run left in it.
Eric left my house muttering under his breath (again!), swearing the Yanks would get it against the Royals. Of course he said the same thing when the Yanks faced the Dodgers. Poor Eric. Looking back, I feel sorry for that kid. Don’t know why I got to be such a spoiled little sod.
Torrez was so bitter.
Remember that Dent broke his bat fouling a pitch off his ankle. That’s why he had Rivers’ bat.
I chose my user name here in honor of the centerfield I was able to play into my fifties. In slow-pitch softball. Co-ed.
Thank God I always handled myself well in the outfield, and my legs generally held up and stayed injury-free. Because I couldn’t play infield worth a tinker’s damn; total scattershot arm on me. Shortstop was a promotion for you, BooMan- crucial position. But I’m sure you know that now.
Oh, and fuck the fucking Yankees!