Mariners clinch, sort of

Josh Naylor was the hero again tonight, driving in three of Seattle's four runs

With a dramatic come-from-behind rally in the home half of the eighth inning, Your Seattle Mariners defeated the Colorado Rockies tonight. It was the team's 14th win over their last 15 games, which would be the talk of the baseball world if not for the Cleveland Guardians winning their 17th over their last 20 tonight as well, vaulting them into first place in the American League Central division. Stupid Cleveland, always taking the spotlight away from other American cities with their... er... not-on-fire-anymore river and rock-n-roll museum and bridge gargoyles. I guess.

Anyway, good for the Guardians, but that's of lesser importance. What matters is that in beating Colorado tonight the Mariners assured themselves of finishing the season as a playoff team—even if everything goes poorly from here on out, the worst they can do is be the final Wild Card team in the October postseason tournament. It's a rare thing around here, though not quite as rare as Google would have us believe:

 

It's actually their second trip to the playoffs since 2001, but I suppose you could be forgiven for not remembering that they were a Wild Card team in the first year of the current ridiculous playoff format, 2022, and were bounced out of the Division Series in three straight.

But really they haven't won anything yet. When they win tomorrow (confidence!) they will have won something—that would guarantee them first place in the American League West division, their first division crown since 2001. That's probably what the Google tech was going for, it just was a day early. Probably. It will be the team's fourth AL West title in their 49 seasons in the Majors and keeps them in the running to perhaps, maybe, win their first-ever American League championship and appear in their first-ever World Series.

It almost makes me wish I was still running that other website. Almost. Because odds are extremely high that it would still be a money loser. But it would have made for a pretty fun last couple of weeks to be covering the M's that way and I've thought about that a bit today. I might have had some pieces up about the "lucky mustaches," maybe interviewed that cute family of four all wearing Julio Rodríguez jerseys that I briefly spoke to on the last homestand, had some sort of Cal Raleigh Home Run Tracker as he keeps pushing for the AL record for homers in a season (he's three shy of it with five games left).

And there would have been a piece of some kind about Josh Naylor. The first baseman was a late-season acquisition by the M's and has made all the difference. Without him, it's all but certain that the club would have been eliminated by now. Naylor is having either the best or second-best season of his career, depending on your metrics, holding a .291/.350/.458 stat line with 20 homers and 28 stolen bases to go with surprisingly good defensive range and agility at first base. As soon as the season ends for the M's, they should make it a top priority to extend/re-sign Naylor for next year, as he'll be a free agent after the World Series. Raleigh may well win the Most Valuable Player award for the American League this year, but Josh Naylor has been the most valuable Mariner down the stretch.

Things are still really bunched up in the standings, so even though only two of 12 playoff slots are still up for grabs, the seeding is a bit of a free-for-all as the last five games get started. Assuming the M's win at least three more games and/or the other playoff teams lose a few, they'll be in what a couple of weeks ago looked to be the near-impossible position of having either the first or second seed in the tournament, meaning they go directly to the Division Series without having to face a Wild Card team first. I know there are some who think skipping the WC round is a detriment, as the rest allows for the adrenaline and "momentum" a team might have to fade, but given the minor injury ace pitcher Bryan Woo suffered the other day, I want the team to get the rest. Plus, after this amazing end of the campaign it would be ignominious to be bounced out by a lowly Wild Card club.

Right now the WC round would feature Detroit at Cleveland, Boston at the Yankees, the Mets at the Dodgers, and San Diego at the Cubs, but Houston, Cincinnati, and Arizona are all still viable and no team as yet is guaranteed to skip the WC series except the Milwaukee Brewers. A lot can still happen this week.

I'll be at the ballpark tomorrow for the expected division-clincher. Should be fun!

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Posted on September 23, 2025 at 11:59PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Does this one go to eleven? Twelve? More?

Cal Raleigh wielding the mustache card

While the nation's governing regime moves more and more into totalitarian dystopia, there is some good news: Your Seattle Mariners have won ten in a row and find themselves in first place with 11 games remaining in the season.

The lead in the American League West division is small—a mere half-game separates them from the hated Houston Astros, against whom the M's will play a three-game set later this week in Houston. But the 'Stros are banged up, missing their heaviest hitter, and have been a couple of games under .500 since the end of June. The Mariners, meanwhile, appear to be healthy and are riding a wave of momentum that might be enough to counter their season-long struggles playing on the road. The pitching rotations line up to be the top three for each side facing off in that critical series, so expect some nailbiters.

It's fun. And, man, do we ever need fun right now.

How are they doing it? Well, there's the witch's spell. Also, the power of the mustache: Several Mariner players and coaches, including manager Dan Wilson, have grown/are growing mustaches after someone (as yet unidentified, but I think formerly-full-bearded pitching coach Pete Woodworth might be the one) sported one in the clubhouse when the team started the win streak in Atlanta; as anyone who's played The Mr. B Game knows, the mustache card gives you superpowers. Or maybe it's the Cheetos. Or, you know, they just remembered they're pretty dang good at baseball.

I attended three games in the Mariners' most recent homestand, last Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday evenings. They were all good games, though the experience wasn't all good. Erik and I went together on Saturday and he made some notes about it. The noise level from the stadium speakers is something I've complained about before—both here on the blog and to the Mariners' customer service reps, whom I'm sure completely ignore me—but I am concerned more than ever about its cumulative damage. My tinnitus has never been worse, and here I am, three days after that Saturday night game, and the ringing has yet to diminish at all. That's new. I may have to invest in some noise-canceling headphones before next season, though that too would diminish the experience at games. (Just turn the frakking volume down, you jerks, there's no reason for it to be cranked that high in the first place.)

I'll go back, though. Because, again, it's fun. Ten straight wins, some of them in weird fashion, some of them featuring things I'd never seen in a baseball game, some of them just neat. For example:

• Wednesday night against the St. Louis Cardinals was a 1-1 game from early on—solo homer in the first from St. Louis, two singles and a sac fly in the second from Seattle—and stayed that way until the 11th inning. You would think that meant a really fast game, especially since both starting pitchers were more than solid in their efforts, but this one had to have been the longest regulation-nine-innings for a game with no more than two runs scored in the pitch-clock era. Seattle starter Logan Gilbert had a splendid line in the scorebook: 1 R, 1 ER, 5 H, 1 BB, 8 K, 2 HB, 1 HR, 96 pitches. Except that all that was in 42/3 innings. That's not a complaint, mind you, just an observation—just because there isn't scoring doesn't mean there's nothing happening, and watching Gilbert wiggle out of jams had its own appeal and I'd never seen a starter approach 100 pitches before finishing the fifth before. Usually when a pitcher has to throw tons of pitches early on it's because he's getting smacked around and/or walking in runs and he gets yanked well before the pitch count gets past 60ish, but the only run Gilbert allowed was that solo shot on the tenth pitch of the game.
• Another thing about that game that I've never seen—and would not have been possible before Commissioner Manfred's stupid extra-inning zombie runner rule—was retiring the side 1-2-3 with only two batters. The Cardinals began the 10th inning with their stupid Manfred Man on second base. The leadoff batter lined out. Then the second batter hit a fly ball to center that was caught by Julio Rodríguez, only the zombie runner didn't think it would be caught and had run to third base, so he was easily doubled off of second to end the frame. Wacky.
• Yet another first for me in Wednesday night's game was when Cole Young stepped to the plate to lead off the home tenth. With their own zombie runner on second base, everyone who was paying any attention at all knew that Young would be up there to bunt the runner over to third. Yet, before a pitch was thrown, the Cardinals held a meeting on the mound, using up one of their limited allotment of mound visits to discusss...how to defend the bunt? Couldn't y'all have done that in the dugout before taking the field, like, 20 seconds before? Sure enough, Young tried to bunt, but since he came up through the Mariners' minor leagues, he isn't good at it and popped it foul for an out.
• That game was won in the 13th on a first-pitch homer by unlikely hero Leo Rivas, who gave the best postgame interview ever after the fact. Rather than regurgitate the standard Crash Davisisms, he just exulted in the moment. No, I wasn't trying to hit it out, no I wasn't sitting on a fastball, I was trying to move the runner over! Duh! My scoresheet for that 13-inning marathon is a mess; next time I make a scorebook I should make the pages with space for more than 11 innings.
  
• Saturday night featured one of the best at-bats I'd ever seen, and the first one in which ball one came on the tenth pitch of the AB. Josh Naylor swung and missed on the first pitch and then fouled off eight in a row. It was almost disappointing when he took pitch number ten for a ball. On pitch eleven he grounded a base hit through the right side to drive in what would end up being the winning runs of the game.
• I wasn't at Sunday's game, but in that one the M's got out to an 11-0 lead (final score 11-2) behind George Kirby striking out 14, staying in just long enough to outdo Bryan Woo's 13 Ks the night before.
• Today's action, seen on TV, included Dom Canzone clubbing three homers and going 5-for-5. I'd seen 5-for-5 before—Ichiro and Tino Martínez both did it with me watching—but not like this. Cal Raleigh's two homers put him in a tie with Ken Griffey Jr. for most home runs by a Seattle player in a single season.

 The boys go for number 11 tomorrow in Kansas City. Let's see how far they can take it. The record is out of reach—Cleveland won 22 straight in 2017—but the longest winning streak this season is 14, by the Milwaukee Brewers last month. Can they beat that? Wouldn't that be something. (Of course, by accepted sports fan logic I have jinxed it from happening by even mentioning the possibility. But that's all nonsense, right?)

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Posted on September 16, 2025 at 11:14PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Strategery

Before I head down to the ballpark this evening, a little cut-n-paste. This comes to us from, as usual, the great Craig Calcaterra:

The Mariners had lost six of seven heading into this past Saturday's game against Atlanta but since then they've won four in a row. Did they make some adjustments? Did they watch some film? Nah, someone just cast a magic spell on 'em.

Over the weekend a Twitter user under the handle @notB0bR055 posted that he had paid a witch that he found on Etsy to cast a spell to end the Mariners' losing ways:

On Saturday morning, they posted an update with a screenshot of correspondence with SpellByLuna on Etsy, confirming the purchase of a $19.99 spell (with a $4 “shop discount”) to help the Mariners “get their act together and start winning baseball games again, and hopefully make their way to the World Series and win.”

SpellByLuna’s response reads in part: “I completed my spell with my best materials for you. It was a ritual process full of beautiful energies, dear, everything is fine. Now all you need to do is to stay positive and accept the manifestation of the spell.”

Since the casting of the spell, Seattle has outscored their opponents 37-9, thereby confirming the veracity of witchcraft. I hereby apologize to Rev. Samuel Parris and Matthew Hopkins who, as far as I'm concerned, stand vindicated.

Still, I'd be careful if I were the Mariners. There's a chance they'll be in an ALDS matchup against the Red Sox come October and we know how Massachusetts rolls with this sort of thing.

How long before the Mariners' promotions department organizes "Wiccan Night" at the park? And how would that work? Turn the evangelist with the bullhorn outside the gates into a newt and get in for free, maybe? Of course, full-size broomsticks would be prohibited as potential weapons, but if you can turn the evangelist into a newt I'd be unconcerned about the brooms.

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Posted on September 10, 2025 at 4:43PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Turning the page

The last couple of weeks haven't been great here in the confines of my chemistry-addled brain, but it's a new week now and the world keeps on turning.

Last night I had an umpiring shift, one of the final ones of the year as things wind down (I may get two or three more at most) and the final one that will involve some of my favorite players in the league. Bonus, I got to chat a little bit with Stephen, a guy that had been one of my favorite players to ump until he moved away last year, but who has now returned. Welcome back, dude! Hope to see you on the field next year. Also good to see Megan, Joel, Pat, Wyatt, Ray, and the rest of those folks yesterday for one final time until we convene again after New Year's. And Megan, thank you as always for the baked good samples. (Hey, I heard that, and they're not "special" baked goods. C'mon.)

I'm going to miss umping in the fall, but there'll be plenty of chaos to keep me occupied. Which is good, because the continual meltdown of the nation will undoubtedly pummel my psyche some more.

Meanwhile, there's three weeks of baseball left before the postseason and I've got tickets for three more Seattle Mariner games with the ever-present possibility of an extra or two. Despite their crappy last three weeks or so in which the M's went 6-15, they've decided to put some effort into it here at the end and have won their last three with 18 games to go. They're somehow only two games worse off in the standings since starting that 6-15 would-be collapse, going from tied for first place to, well, two behind, and two games is plenty surmountable with 18 left, especially since three of those 18 are against the team they're chasing. I say that, but I've also been a fan of Your Seattle Mariners for long enough to know that the most likely outcome is yet another missed-it-by-that-much end to the season.

This week also will see the season finale of Strange New Worlds, which has been really uneven in this third season of the series. After I have a chance to process Wednesday night's episode, I think a season recap/analysis post will be necessary since this show has been so frustrating to me—it has been so good in prior years, has the potential to be really great, and has shortchanged itself this season in some annoying ways.

Also, I watched Thunderbolts* the other night, having skipped it in the theaters. You know what? Pretty good. Certainly by the standard of recent efforts from Marvel Studios. I'd been forewarned by Erik's review that I probably ought to be in a decent headspace when I saw it, and I was. It is an interesting way to go, making depression the actual Big Bad of the film. Wielded by The Sentry, a character I was aware of in comicdom (a would-be Superman type created on purpose by nefarious experiments but that ends up being unstable) but never paid much attention to, I appreciate the way the depression was depicted, with Sentry's victims just poofing away leaving an ashy shadow behind; later we see what happens to them post-poof, they're trapped in a mindspace of sorts, reliving their traumatic or hurtful memories over and over. It's not a perfect representation, but damned if it isn't at least in the ballpark. The solution is for our reluctant (except for gung-ho Red Star, played to perfection by David Harbour) would-be heroes to coax Sentry out of his depressive episode and then after that restores everyone to normal keep working with him to manage his moods. There's also some absolute-power-corrupts-absolutely messaging here, which is good, but it is entirely unsatisfying to have the film end with Julia Louis-Dreyfuss' character Allegra de Fontaine slither out of trouble and manipulate things to her advantage again. Maybe that's appropriate given the real world we're living in, but that's also the main reason it's so irritating. Can't these criminal asshats even face justice in our comic-book movies??

Anyway, new week, new turn of the page, life goes on.

 

Tagged Umping, Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Star Trek, Movies, Posted on September 9, 2025 at 7:13PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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A not-blast from the past at the ballpark

What antiquated witchcraft is this?

I went to the ballyard last night to watch Your Seattle Mariners take on the fake rival San Diego Padres and was treated to a pretty interesting, if ultimately unsatisfying, game.

Unsatisfying because (a) the Mariners lost a game they could have won; (b) Seattle starting pitcher Luis Castillo was great—but in the way that George W. Bush kept us safe, you know, except that one time. Castillo was absolutely lit up in the first inning, needing about 35 pitches to retire the side after surrendering five runs, all before I had much chance to settle into my seat (thanks in part to the damned 6:40pm start time that necessitates an extra 30-40 minutes of travel time and even then count yourself lucky if you're not late).

Interesting because (a) it was a tightly contested affair, with the Padres ultimately winning by a single run; (b) the M's mounted a mid-game comeback with a bat-around, 6-run inning in the 5th with line drives scorched off of fake-Christian homophobic reliever Jason Adam, including a 3-run bomb by Geno Suárez, that couldn't have happened to a nicer relief pitcher; (c) the company was good as I got to catch up a little with some folks I hadn't seen in a long while; and (d) San Diego plated what would prove to be their winning run on one of my absolute favorite baseball strategems, a truly lost art in the game: the squeeze play.

I cannot remember the last time I saw a team successfully execute a squeeze bunt. I cannot recall if I've ever seen a team do it in person before. It's not quite a bigfoot sighting, but it's pretty damn rare in today's game.

Top of the 6th, San Diego's Gavin Sheets doubles to lead it off. Next batter is Ramon Laureano, who has always torched the Mariners for whatever reason (in 60 career games vs. Seattle, Laureano has 106 total bases including 11 homers), who also doubles, but good outfield play and cautious baserunning holds Sheets at 3rd. Then Jake Cronenworth singles to plate Sheets and tie the game, Laureano moving to 3rd base. Now one out, up comes 9th-place-batting catcher Freddy Fermín, who takes two pitches and then surprises us by squaring around for the third pitch as Laureano bolts home. Fermín lays down a textbook bunt and the Padres lead 7-6.

Absolutely f-ing brilliant play, beautifully executed. I tip my cap to Padre manager Mike Schildt.

Thanks to effective bullpen work by pitchers not named Jason Adam, that score held up. And despite Seattle reliever Carlos Vargas getting hammered—the guy pitched a harmless 9th, staying in due to a depleted Mariner ’pen, but in the 8th he was greeted with a hard lineout (Laureano again), a hard-hit infield single, a grounder that he tried to field himself when Suárez was ready to take it and thus ruined any chance of getting the out, and a rocket shot on the ground that took a nice play from shortstop J.P Crawford to snare and turn into a double-play—the score didn't get any worse.

Randy Arozarena nearly tied it in the 9th with a fly out to the wall in center, but that right there epitomized the game and, frankly, the Mariners as a whole of late: The Mariners need home runs to score. The Padres know other ways to do it too.

When the M's finally fired manager Scott Servais last year and gave the reins to Dan Wilson, the homer-reliance declined. A fuller mix of offensive methods took over to pretty good effect, and it's still there to some extent, but the boys are homer-happy again with old habits returning to the fore. Sadly, that's not unusual anymore, a lot of teams have the same issue, we live in a homer-happy era. 

But man, it was nice to see someone lay down a squeeze. Even if it was the Padres.

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Posted on August 27, 2025 at 6:33PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Celebrating the greats

Seattle's Hall of Fame #51s

This past weekend was Ichiro Suzuki weekend at the ballpark by Elliott Bay. The newly-inducted Hall of Famer had his jersey number 51 retired in a pregame ceremony on Saturday, which included a fine speech from the man itself, just two weeks after he gave a different speech at the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. He began his remarks by saying, "Who's idea was it to have me give two speeches in English in two weeks?" calling it "one of the toughest challenges of my career." This got the requisite laugh, and Ichiro demonstrated a more than competent command of the language, which he remains somewhat insecure about despite having greater fluency than the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue demonstrates on a daily basis.

It was a nice speech, humble yet acknowledging of his merit in receiving the honor, and pointed in its advice to the current team of Seattle Mariners—seize this moment. "As Edgar [Martínez, Mariner batting coach and fellow Hall of Famer] and Dan [Wilson, the Mariners' manager] know, winning is tough.... The thing about winning is it is always tough and never comes without pressure," he said. "Accept the pressure and figure out how you can perform at your best." The other unexpected thing was the amount of time Ichiro devoted to the man who wore 51 before him, fellow Hall of Famer Randy Johnson. Randy will have his own number retirement next year, and the two of them seem to really enjoy each other. Johnson was among the several Mariner greats and luminaries in attendance and the two of them taking selfies and goofing around afterward was a fun cap on the event before the game began. Ichiro will attend Randy's ceremony as well and will no doubt engage on more clowning around then. (No word on whether or not Rey Quiñones will be invited.)

Yesterday the festivities continued in a way, with giveaway replica Hall of Fame plaques (I didn't get one despite arriving more than an hour early) and video tributes between innings and such, but aside form the Mariner victory—their seventh straight and a capper on a 9-1 homestand—the highlight was the ceremonial first pitch, thrown by Ichiro to Johnson, whose six-foot-ten frame was decked out in catcher Cal Raleigh's chest protector and shin guards, which looked like a grown man wearing the clothes of a six-year-old. Both wore Sunday-variant versions of Mariner jerseys with 51 on the back and posed for more goofy pictures.

I umpired Friday night, missed an opportunity to attend Saturday night, and did attend yesterday afternoon before again umpiring last night. But I watched all three games and enjoyed them all, bookended by umping shifts that were fun and included plenty of appreciation from players. Pretty decent weekend, well timed and needed given the continuing state of the world.

It wasn't worth taking the time to come home after the M's game and then turn around an hour later to go back to Cap Hill to ump, so I spent the intervening time at Elliott Bay Books, where I ran into one of the softball players I've become vaguely acquainted with over the years (and who I would see later in the evening on the field). She recommended to me a sci-fi novel called The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, which I purchased and read the first few chapters of while awaiting the start of my shift. So far so good.

 

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, Ichiro, Umping, Books, Posted on August 11, 2025 at 5:14PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Laugh when you can while depression abounds

Hiya, netizens. It's been a few weeks. I've had a couple of folks check in with me to see if all was well, given my brain chemistry issues, so I figured a new post was in order.

The lack of posts hasn't entirely been black-hole related, but I have been fighting the gravity a bit. Not in a really dark, can't-get-out-of-bed sort of way, more in a mild ennui kind of way. Weary. Lethargic. Spurred on by the continual descent of the country into dictatorship and the corresponding frustration and anger with all the idiots who voted Republican despite having seen the sneak preview version of this play from 2017-2021.

Anyway. I won't turn this into a political rant today, at least not yet, because coherence when thinking about it is elusive. There's too much. Which atrocity to focus on? What can be said that hasn't been said already elsewhere? So I'll save that for later.

Instead, I'll just share something that amused me greatly when watching the baseball game from last Saturday between Your Seattle Mariners and the visiting Texas Rangers. There were two outs in the inning, M's at bat, Julio Rodríguez on 2nd base. Batter Josh Naylor taps a comebacker to the pitcher, who has a brain cramp and throws to third base trying to get the lead runner out even though he had an easy play at first which would have ended the inning. The throw gets past the third baseman because he wasn't expecting to be thrown to, Julio scores the tying run, Naylor safe at first, the inning continues.

This is something I had never seen in a big-league game but see all the frickin' time as a softball umpire. It has become kind of an inside joke just for me, one that I have stated out loud on occasion to the next batter in such a softball game, that one day, sometime before the heat death of the universe, I will be umpiring a game wherein the score is tight in a late inning and the defensive team takes the easy out at first to end an inning rather than attempt to get a lead runner instead. (To be fair, teams do take the easy out now and then, but never in a tense situation.) So when seven-year Major League veteran Merrill Kelly of the Texas Rangers did it I laughed very hard.

The M's still lost, though. Oh well.

Tagged Baseball, Seattle Mariners, The Black Hole, Politics, Umping, Posted on August 5, 2025 at 8:58PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Attention Overload!

Wow, is there a lot going on right now. Big things, little things, consequential things, trivial things, nerd things, political things, sporty things, personal things, many combinations thereof.

Now, the personal things tend toward the nerdy and trivial. Don't want to get anyone's hopes up. But between the news, pop culture, and baseball/softball, my brain is jam-packed with musings.

Some, about the latest debasing of Major League Baseball by its own commissioner, were posted yesterday, so no need to rehash that except to just say once again—because there's never a bad time to say it—that Rob Manfred is horrible. But related to the All-Star Game are musings about the gathering I hosted here for it; I invited a bazillion people, but knowing it was for an event that has lost its luster and that started at 5:00pm on a weekday, I figured maybe seven or eight people might show. I overestimated by a few, but we had fun and I ate way too much junk food, including some oddly-made pizza from Spiro Not-Agnew's down the street and so-so store-bought guac. (Always worth it to make your own guac, dummy.) Thanks to Abe, the one person from my umping world to pop by for a while, and Mack and Erik for bringing some of the junk food. (Abe didn't know my dietary preferences, so I skipped his, but still thoughtful.)

That was Tuesday night. Last night was my softball team's final game of the year—we play a really short season, for better or worse—which was typical: We lost by a lot, only got to play a little over half a game because of the enforced mercy rule, and in my one at-bat I swung blind as the sunset was happening right behind the pitcher and tapped out 1-3 but still managed to tweak my ankle running to first. Kind of fitting, really.

Meanwhile, I went to see the new Superman film and enjoyed it. If you want a good rundown on it, I recommend Erik's review, I basically agree with everything he says there. I now want to see it a second time to better gauge my feeling abut it as it was somehow both really good and kind of a drag and I can't quite put my finger on why. It's very comic-booky, for lack of a better description, as opposed to the gritty/angsty Zach Snyder version of Superman or even the operatic Richard Donner Superman; in some ways, that's great, kind of my wheelhouse, there was a lot of funny stuff in it that required that sensibility. In other ways I thought it was maybe too fast-and-loose with conceptual reality with its "pocket universe" and off-hand inclusions of semi-intelligent "troll monkeys" (though that made for one of the biggest laughs) and an unexplained kaiju-like giant monster that was the least effective sequence for me. But on first viewing, I'd say Superman (2025) ranks below Superman (1978) and Superman Returns (2006) but way ahead of Man of Steel (2013).

Also, the long-awaited season three of Strange New Worlds premiered last night with two episodes. Both eps were good, neither was great, and there was plenty of good character stuff and smart dialogue to meet my high Trek standards.

Those all fall in the pop-culture/trivial/personal buckets. As for the big political world-affecting stuff, I find myself navigating a mix of outrage, hopefulness, hostility, schadenfreude, anxiety, callousness, and trepidation. Which is, let's face it, the new normal, but with new dimensions given the latest info:

• The MAGA civil war is fascinating as some of the cultists belatedly realize that their champion actually is a lying garbage person who gaslights them and thinks they're stupid. The fact that they see this only because they bought into a conspiracy theory he and they promulgated for years that he is now denying hasn't sunk in yet, but hey, baby steps.
• Today's publication of an article in the Wall Street Journal, of all places, that reinforces what most of us already knew—that Donald Trump and Jeffrey Epstein were two peas in a pod in their depravity and criminality—is outstanding, as it is causing the wannabe dictator and his minions to panic and dig themselves deeper into the hole they're in with the cultists. I've oft wondered what it would take to get the cult to turn on this subhuman stain when none of the prior atrocities seemed to make a dent, and it figures that the answer is apparently reneging on an implied promise to inflict cruelty on people they don't like.

• With all that creating chaos for the White House, official spokesmodel Karoline Leavitt told the press corps that our wannabe-dictator has health issues—which, again, duh—that she plays down as minor but actually might well prevent him from finishing his term of office.

  The demented occupant of the Oval Office has Chronic Venous Insufficiency, which in and of itself is not a big deal. Lots of senior citizens deal with it. But the patient in question is not "lots of senior citizens," he's an obese rage factory who doesn't believe in exercise and maintains a fast-food diet. And this has progressed enough to include Stage 5 or 6 elements, e.g. venous ulcers (evident from photos of POTUS47’s hand and the lie from his press secretary that he was bruised from aspirin and an overabundance of handshakes). Whether the hand wound is from the CVI directly, a complication of it, or from something else, it indicates something more serious than swollen ankles. Add to this the daily evidence of cognitive decline and one has to wonder if the CVI is severe enough to have hindered blood not just to the extremities but to the brain.

  What makes this especially hinky is that the White House—in the first term and in this one—never reveals anything about Dear Leader's health. They give bogus doctor notes from their very own Dr. Nick that say he's the healthiest person that ever lived. We got no information when he had COVID. We got no information after he was mildly wounded when someone took a shot at him last summer. They never reveal anything about his health, yet today Leavitt said he has CVI, probably the most innocuous explanation for the photo of his swollen ankles.

  It's probably true as far as the CVI goes, but what's not being said? Is he looking at heart failure? What about vascular dementia? Has he had a stroke? It sure fits the observable circumstantial evidence that long-standing CVI (pun not intended) correlated with lack of circulation to the brain begetting vascular dementia accounts for a lot of his nonsensical rants and wandering tangents and inappropriate dozing off. (Then again, this is the laziest, stupidest, most emotionally stunted public figure in the world, so all that crap might have nothing to do with his blood flow.)

  Might this health admission be the first step in a soft coup by the oligarchs that want JD Vance to be emperor? Might it be a first move in a fallback contingency should the Epstein mess actually catch up with him—he could resign for health reasons, get pardoned by Vance, and completely avoid any accountability for anything?

  And why am I conflicted about the prospect of PseudoPresident Convicted Felon dying of heart failure soon? Frankly, that's a better scenario than a pardon.

Oh, and CBS canceled Colbert because they need to not piss off the regime in order to get FCC approval on their corporate merger with SkyDance. That's just lovely. (Skip the below video to about the two minute mark for more context.)

 

Tagged Politics, Movies, Star Trek, President VonClownstick, Baseball, Softball, Posted on July 17, 2025 at 9:02PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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All-Star circus

All-Star Game so-called MVP

The baseball All-Star Game has been a shadow of its former self for a long time now. For several years running the games themselves have been dull, assisted in their dullness by a circus atmosphere generated by the tandem producers of Bud Selig/Rob Manfred (commissioners) and Fox Sports (broadcasters).

There are several reasons why they've been dull, most of them not related to the generally low scores; low scores can be great under other circumstances (see below, 1987). They've been dull because the game itself has become kind of a sideshow. No one is trying to win beyond a perfunctory measure, strategy is limited to things like "when should so-and-so be put in to replace starter X" and "how can we generate a fake applause moment for a guy by taking him out of the game mid-inning." The powers-that-be (i.e. Selig/Manfred and Fox) have made it a regular thing to interrupt the game more than once for some sort of ceremony that would be better done pregame. Managers care more about using all/nearly all of their rosters than scoring runs. Broadcasters care more about having inane banter with players actively in the game than actually, you know, covering the game.

(The principal mid-game interruption this time was for a tribute to the late Hank Aaron, which was a fine subject, but Manfred/Fox blew it anyway. As Craig Calcaterra put it:

In an otherwise nifty tribute to Henry Aaron's 715th home run, they played the audio of Vin Scully calling the shot from back in 1974, but cut it off the last bit. Here was Scully's whole call back in the day:

"What a marvelous moment for baseball. What a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia. What a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A Black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol.”

Except, during the Aaron tribute last night, MLB decided to cut it off after “. . . for the country and the world." Which is awful, because when you omit "A Black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an all-time baseball idol" from Scully's call you completely alter what he was describing as "marvelous." Scully was NOT just broadly marveling. He was marveling at a very specific, very important thing.

But MLB didn't care about that. They no doubt cut off that sentence specifically because they didn't want to anger the white supremacists who run our country and of whom Rob Manfred is an ardent supporter by making note of an important moment in the racial history of the United States. It's the same reason MLB nuked its diversity and inclusion initiatives earlier this year and why so many other businesses and institutions have done the same.

It was an utter disgrace and everyone involved in that decision, be they with Major League Baseball or the Fox network, should be absolutely ashamed of themselves.

Craig noticed this in real time while I did not, as I was too busy talking with friends to pay strict attention to a clip I'd seen many times before.)

I'm not saying the players and even the TV crew shouldn't have fun with the ASG. It's an exhibition game, after all. But instead of the game itself being the showcase focus of a break in the regular season, Home Run Derby has become the thing that gets most of the attention, so much so that, for the first time since Manfred instituted yet another stupid change to the game, the ASG itself was decided by a home-run-hitting contest.

People seemed to like it. Social media posts on it were largely favorable.

I hated it.

Up until the farce of home-run-derby, last night's All-Star Game was easily the most interesting one to take place in at least 15 years. In fact, I'd take it back to 2008, another time when the game was tied after nine innings. But that just meant you kept playing, so the game went on, with drama in ensuing innings and an eventual win for the American League in the 15th. And managers were prepared for extras thanks to the debacle of 2002, when the game was tied after nine, continued for two relatively quick innings, and then abruptly halted because both teams were on their last pitcher (both starters in their regular jobs) and didn't want to make them throw a third inning. That was the game that gave us the iconic image of Commissioner Bud Selig just throwing his hands up in the air in a "well, I guess there's nothing to be done about it" show of utter impotence.

Subsequent to 2002, more pitchers were required (minimum 12 now) and managers re-learned to keep two or so pitchers capable of more than one inning in reserve in case of extras. No need for that now.

Because now any tied ASG is 2002 with a mini-derby to cap thigs off, completely erasing anything from the game itself from memory.

When thinking back on the 2025 ASG will anyone remember Ketel Marte's first-inning double off of Tarik Skubal to plate two? Or Pete Alonso's three-run blast that was a real home run off a real pitch from a real All-Star pitcher? Or Steven Kwan running out an infield chopper to plate the tying run with two out in the ninth? Eh, not many.

What people will recall is Kyle Schwarber hitting three balls over the fence in the "tiebreaker" that were lobbed to him from 35 feet away by a third-base coach.

Tied All-Star Games were the best in my mind because in extra innings they became more real. Rosters had been pared down to normal size, there weren't wholesale substitutions going on any more, strategy came back. My favorite ASG is probably 1987’s, played in Oakland for the first and only time. That game was a pitchers' duel, scoreless through 12 innings with pitchers going multiple frames; of 15 pitchers used, only five of them pitched one inning or less and Lee Smith—closer for the Cubs, used to stints of one-frame-and-done—pitched three innings before giving way to Sid Fernandez, who usually started games, for the 13th. The National League won after one of my favorites, Tim Raines, in his third at-bat since coming up for the first time in the 9th, tripled in two for his third hit of the game with two out in the top of the 13th after Willie McGee lined out in what appeared to be a rally-killing running catch by Dave Winfield. Fernandez would walk his first batter (current Mariner batting coach Kevin Seitzer) and then shut down the next three to lock up a 2-0 NL victory. 

1994 was also good, a ten-inning affair that saw the NL come from behind to tie it at 7-7 in the ninth, survive a 2-on, 1-out threat in the 10th, and win it in the next half when Moises Alou doubled on Pittsburgh's then-Astroturf to drive in Tony Gwynn from first base.

Before 2002, there was some emphasis on actually winning the game; it was minor, but there. Prior to that, through the early 1990s, it was a really big deal who won, at least for many. Back then, of course, the leagues were separate entities. They had their own presidents, their own rules, and were in a loose affiliation with each other as "the major leagues." There was no interleague play except for the World Series and ASG, which contributed to the ASG's specialness.

Now it's just a party that no one remembers any details of the next day, still in a home-run-derby hangover.

Alas.

This concludes today's Grumpy Old Man post.

 

Tagged Baseball, Rob Manfred, Posted on July 16, 2025 at 6:11PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Civil disobedience (baseball edition)

I have new respect for Jorge Polanco.

The infielder/DH of this year's Seattle Mariners has had a Jeckyll-and-Hyde kind of season, with a scalding-hot .395/.434/.816 line in the first five weeks or so, then .173/.236/.240 over the next two months, then .333/.375/.733 in the last week. He's been a questionable presence in the lineup, to say the least.

But in today's game against the Pittsburgh Pirates, Jorge showed me something.

Not with the bat, though he did notch his 1,000th career hit today (congrats). But with his sleeve.

One of Commissioner of Baseball Rob Manfred's goals in life, apparently, is to put advertising on as much space as he can within the game of baseball. It's truly disgusting how much ad space has proliferated since he assumed the role of Commissioner from the previous guy to hold the title of Worst Commissioner Ever. Ads on the outfield walls are as old as outfield walls, ads on stadium deck facings are somehow not terribly obtrusive. But since Manfred they're everywhere, including on the field itself and the ballplayers' uniforms.

The Mariners were slow to adopt the sleeve ads—this is the first year we've been subject to them—but there they are, bright orange to make them difficult to ignore, on the sleeve facing the center-field camera when one is up to bat (right sleeve for left-hand batters, left sleeve for righty batters).

Today Jorge rolled up his sleeve, obscuring the ad from view.

And why not? I don't know for sure that Polanco was defying the practice for philosophical or political reasons, or indeed making a statement of any kind, but I assume he was. He likely doesn't have anything against the sponsor company, which I will not name because, among other reasons, they aren't paying me anything.

Maybe Polanco figured they weren't paying him anything either, so why show the logo? Except they are paying him something indirectly, sort of, as his employer pays him out of revenue they collect from whatever sources, including sleeve ads. Which is perhaps why he rolled the sleeve down later in the game. Someone probably told him he was going to get in trouble with the team or the Commissioner or something.

What the Mariners get from the sponsor company for this defacement isn't widely known, but it's likely similar to the fee [other sponsor] paid for the naming rights to the ballpark, which is less than the typical salary of a middle reliever. (Most are undisclosed, but the top payment for a team is evidently the $25 million paid annually to the Yankees by their sleeve sponsor. The Cincinnati Reds and Miami Marlins each get $5 million a year for theirs. The average is reportedly around $8 million.) It's peanuts in the grand scheme of things for a Major League club's revenue, making the whole endeavor seem even pettier. Not even counting ad sponsorships, merchandise sales, or any other revenue, the Mariners—a middle-tier club in this regard—reportedly took in $70 million last year in ticket sales + TV and broadcast fees – player payroll. (What do you want to bet Manfred and the team owners start crying poor despite this when it's time to negotiate with the players' union again next year.)

I don't know what Polanco's thinking was either way, on rolling up the sleeve or rolling it down again later, but I was both amused and supportive when I saw the blocking of the ad.

Good on you, Jorge Polanco. Stick it to the Man(fred).

Tagged Baseball, Rob Manfred, Seattle Mariners, Posted on July 6, 2025 at 9:02PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Order in the time of chaos

The new basis for law and order

As is my wont, I spent some time today reading the latest missive from fellow baseball and politics nerd Craig Calcaterra. On many things, as you know if you've been here before, Craig and I, we reach. (Not on everything. I could not care less about European football and I have never been into indie bands like so many of my generational peers are/have been.)

Anyway, Craig devoted some of his newsletter today to his emotional state of mind regarding, well, the world, and in the wake of my Saturday rant I've been feeling much the same way. As Craig put it, "I do not believe it is hyperbole to say that America's 249-year old legal, political, and philosophical order has been effectively destroyed in a little over five months and whatever is left of it is severely wounded." I do quibble about the "five months" part, as the five months in question are in actuality a resumption of the destruction that started at a much slower pace in 2017 and was suspended in 2021, but the point is spot-on.

I don't think Craig is unique in this, I think a great many of us are freaking out to one degree or another as the POTUS47 regime and its compliant agents on the Supreme Court take a blowtorch to the Constitution without a peep of resistance from the majority party in Congress. I mean, there were big marches and stuff just a couple weeks ago. But the fact that despite the protests in the streets, despite the outrage and the lawsuits, despite the blatant betrayal of oaths, nothing seems to matter—at least, on a short- or medium-term scale.

In my latest spiral, my mind went where it most likes to go, to the universe of Star Trek; in this case, though, it wasn't uplifting at all. The Trek canon has been prescient in a lot of ways despite missing the mark on the eugenics wars of the 1990s (which has been suitably retconned to a few decades later). But ever since 1967 the shows were telling their audience that to get where we needed to go, we were going to hit the skids in a big way in the 21st century. Now that we're actually in the 21st century, the accuracy of some of the future history details is less impressive and more frightful. 

Craig is less of a nerd than I am in that regard, but he got to a similar place without the Trek references, living with anger and depression over the utter chaos being wrought. Order and the predictability of cause-and-effect, of action-and-consequence, are out the window because, again quoting Craig (who is a better writer than I), "we're living in an era of legal Calvinball." It used to mean something profound to be American, but now "even the most basic and explicit Constitutional rights mean nothing to this Court or this regime and that there is little if anything that can be done about it, at least any time soon."

Baseball is where Craig's and my nerddom intersect most completely, so when he discussed how attending a couple of games over the weekend provided a kind of therapy I completely understood. "Those games helped me feel like I was living in an orderly world," he wrote, continuing:

[I]t was worthy effort, because baseball is rooted in order. There are rules. They are enforced. There is a mathematical logic to how the proceedings in a baseball game unfold and following those proceedings required that I assume a logical and ordered mindset. There's nothing I know better or that I have known longer than how baseball works and retreating into a headspace where nothing was happening other than the baseball game in front of me had the same effect as reciting a mantra. It quieted my mind. It banished the chaos, at least for a while. It made me feel connected to something in ways I've not felt connected to anything for what feels like ages.

...  I felt more calm and centered than I've felt in several months. I know that feeling won't last because we live in an age of fresh daily horrors. I know that my disorientation at the lack of order and predictability of these times and my attendant depression will return the moment I begin reading the news once again. But any reprieve is a welcome one and the two ballgames I took in while in Detroit were just what the doctor ordered. They served as a reminder that, if I try hard enough, I can probably find my way through this shit.

 We can't take our eye off the ball, if you'll excuse the metaphor, but these reprieves are essential. We need to keep sane so we can eventually recover from the wreckage of the regime. If for you it's not baseball but something else, have at it. But take the break, clear your mind of existential dread, and come back fighting.

Because in the words of Captain Pike, "the future is what we make it."

Tagged Politics, Baseball, Craig Calcaterra, Posted on June 30, 2025 at 4:16PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Patriot Day: Protests and baseball

I frequent this place a lot as an umpire. Today the fields were swarmed by protesters, eventually reaching 70,000 strong

A lot happened today. Most of which I didn't actively participate in, but it still deserves some mention here, I think.

I fully intended to attend one of the smaller No Kings protests this afternoon; one took place not far from my home, I was planning to at least go and take photos and add my voice for a little while. I'd intended to, but my nocturnal ways caught up with me and I failed. I was umpiring last night until almost 11:30, got home well after midnight, then watched the full Mariner game from earlier in the evening, then had trouble falling asleep... anyway, when my alarm went off at 10:30am I had only been asleep for maybe three hours. Still, I got up and fed the cats, but then plopped back down to check in with things on my phone and before I knew it I had fallen asleep again. (In a rather awkward position, to, leaving me with a nasty kink in my neck that is still annoying me.) I re-awoke around 2:30. A quick shower and I moseyed out to the protest site, but it had mostly dispersed by then. Alas.

But even without me, Seattle showed up in style, with over 70,000 people congregating at Cal Anderson park (often the site of my umpiring adventures) before marching to Seattle Center. Along with several smaller events around town, the greater metro area represented well in the nationwide protests today and I am most gratified to see the great masses of Americans giving POTUS47 a metaphorical (and occasionally literal) middle-finger salute on his birthday. It's especially gratifying to see the split-screen, as it were, of protest turnout on one side and the "crowd" at Donny's multimillion-dollar ego parade in DC on the other. I hope he's seething about it.

Seems the vast majority of the events were civil and trouble-free, but there were bound to be a few exceptions, like the Virginia MAGAt who drove his SUV into protesters and someone in Salt Lake City shooting a protester. The forces deployed to LA unsurprisingly escalated things there, but not until after the No Kings event had ended; I wasn't there, I have no way to really know if the violence perpetrated by law enforcement/Federal forces was appropriate or not, but my instinct is to believe it was at best an overreaction. I know the elderly veterans being arrested in DC for nothing more than protesting Donny's ego parade will have quite the case when they sue, though.

Anyway, I did not attend but fully support the No Kings events. After my abortive look at the remains of the small suburban one, I came back and fixed a sandwich and started to clean up a bit before heading down to the ballpark. Not knowing what traffic would be like after today's disruptions, I left pretty early but getting downtown turned out to be a breeze and I was over an hour early to the game. Still didn't get a giveaway Steelheads cap, though, that was a small bummer. (I'm over it.)

Turned out to be a fun evening. One of my umpees (hi, Neal) was there and had free seats near him down low, so my Spuds teammate Mona and I ended up taking in the whole game from pretty close in, which was pretty cool. I am still very much used to my perspective from 327, so tracking the ball was a little tough from the more expensive seats. It's a nice change of pace, though, and the opportunity was much appreciated.

It was a great game, too, with the hometown M's staging a 9th-inning comeback to win in walkoff fashion. One dude sitting in the row behind me struck up some conversation here and there during the game, first about my scorekeeping then about ballparks and then about game strategy. Always fun. Nice to talk with Neal a bit off the softball diamond, too, though the PA onslaught at the game makes for a less than stellar discussion venue.

All in all a good Saturday. (Edit: Events in Minnesota notwithstanding—I just read about that a few minutes ago. Jesus.)

Below are a few of my favorite photos/signs from the nationwide protests today. Please to enjoy.

 

From Los Angeles. The Constitution is a perfect prop for today, but I also really enjoy the sign held up by the guy in the lower left corner.

Handmaid's Tale imagery has been used a lot, but hey, cliches are cliches for a reason. The sign is great, too.

From Florida. Glad to see the rest of the GOP get a mention, but mostly I like rooting for gators here.

A little hard to read, but it says "You don't get to talk about what's illegal when you voted for a felon."

Truly inspired to use "Schoolhouse Rock" here.

No notes. 100%.

And, just for fun, the celebration after the win at the ballpark. J.P. Crawford (2nd form left) had a perfect night, going 3-for-3 with two walks
(though he did get picked off 2nd base).

Tagged Politics, President VonClownstick, Baseball, Society, Posted on June 15, 2025 at 12:49AM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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