Memories, Baseball, and a Frank break
April 3, 2022
I was thinking about Weekly Readers and the semi-annual book orders that took about three months to arrive, similar to today’s mail. I remember two of the books I bought-Csonka and The Towering Inferno. Two fairly different levels of reading levels. There’s no way in hell I sat down and read The Towering Inferno, but maybe I impressed some chick.
Another neighborhood dog passed away… friends are disappearing…and Abby stares at a wall for 30 minutes…
I’ve found it a bit difficult to get back in the Canon groove after Frank deep kissed the town’s mayor at the end of Season 2…wtf? Why did the writers feel the need to scratch Cannon’s libido itch? I just can’t pull the trigger for awhile. Sorry, Frank.
Strat-o-matic 1977 part deux
I’ve been holding back on the headline. It’s happening. The wheels are in motion.
Strat-o-matic 1977 baseball season is under way. AL 39 games, NL 33 games (3 games vs each team in league, five man rotation). We will find out the REAL champion instead of that lame fix job of Reggie and the Yankees. This is be the official 1977 champion that I will refer to.
I’m 55 years old sitting in my office writing down lineups, making relief pitcher decisions, base stealing, sacrifice bunts, etc., and rolling dice to get the results and record them. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I look forward to the 30 minute games. Imagining Riverfront Stadium with the power house Big Red Machine, Exhibition Stadium with snow in the bullpen area, Wrigley Field when all games were daytime.
I remember my dad telling me many years ago how much better his ballplayers were than mine in the contemporary era. Now I understand. I can’t watch games now. Four hour games. Batters can’t hit the other way, can’t bunt. Home runs and strikeouts.
Nolan Ryan winging it, Rod Carew swinging away, and Dave Concepcion scooping up the
most difficult grounder. Oh, in the latest game, Bill Buckner got hurt and is out 6 games.
I don’t need 2022 baseball.