Baseball

Readers, the Reds have one game to go to clinch the National League's Central Division title! They play the Astros tonight, and hopefully we'll be celebrating at the feet of the Johnny Bench shrine. Go reds!

Tonight is also an exciting night for baseball for another reason: PBS is airing the first part of Ken Burns' Baseball: The Tenth Inning (starts at 8pm!). The doc will focus on the 90's & 00's, so get ready to hear about the player strike and steroids--it was a depressing & scandalous two decades. Anyway, that's the nerdy little documentary elf there in the photo (I didn't know you could still buy denim shirts...)

By the way: did I ever tell you about the time I came thisclose to meeting Ken Burns? It was back in June at the big annual librarian conference in D.C. He was set to be meeting and greeting at the Baker & Taylor booth, and as I was walking over to say "hi" (or something...I'm not so good with celebrities) I noticed that another booth a few aisles over had a copy of his Civil War book. I thought it would make a better impression (i.e. lessen the odds of me doing/saying something awkward) if I had one of his books in hand for him to sign, so I made a detour to get it. Well, the lady at the booth was reluctant to sell it to me, so I had to guilt-trip her a little, giving her my breathless "butIgottahaveitsoIcanmeetKenBurnsandI'minabighurry,lady!!" explanation before she agreed to take my 5 bucks. Sheesh.

By the time I speed walked back to Baker & Taylor, he had disappeared (45 minutes before he was supposed to)! I got an apologetic shrug from the two B&T office drones manning the booth: "Uh, sorry--Mr. Burns is very busy, so, uh, he had to leave early. But maybe you can catch him--he just left right before you walked up..." They pointed vaguely. I considered that scenario for a minute: spotting Ken Burns from across the enormous, jam-packed showroom floor of the Washington National Convention Center, I could sprint the 200 yard distance towards where he is getting on the escalator to the equally-enormous lobby, dodging fragile Nancy Pearl wannabes, shoving tattooed teen lit enthusiasts and vaulting bookbag-laden oldsters on Rascals. I would catch up to him, maybe yelling out over the din of the crowd, and then demand that he sign the book (which isn't even one I have actually read).

I decided against it. (Moral of the story: if you are about to meet a celebrity just square your shoulders, feign normalcy and say something about admiring their work. It probably helps if you pretend to be about 60% as excited to meet them as you really are).

Anyway: it's a great night for baseball, so go get some, Americans!

Hey, Cincinnati fans: as of today the magic number for the Reds to clinch the NL central division is now down to 3! That means any combination of 3 losses by the Cardinals or wins for the Reds will cause something to happen that hasn't happened since 1995: the Reds will win something! They'll be in the playoffs, readers: the post-season!

As you can see, this calls for a candles-and-incense vigil to be held at the official Johnny Bench shrine here at MM HQ--the first time in 15 years that such ceremony has denoted legitimate hope (rather than fragrant, effigial denial). We'll keep the candles burning 24-hours-a-day this weekend, while the Reds are in San Diego, hopefully clinching the division title!

Go Reds!

Sanders Memoir Uncovered, 11 Herbs & Spices Still At Large

So I tend to find a lot of "gems" during the course of my job at the public library, many of which I've noted here before. But nothing piques my interest so much as a mysterious, out-of-print book concerning controversial hometown spectres--especially those who have achieved ubiquitous, world-wide iconography. I'm talking, of course, about "Colonel" Harland Sanders and his lost autobiography: Life As I Have Known it Has Been Finger Lickin' Good. Score! I was even more excited about it than I was that time I found a copy of Dave's Way lying around. You see, early American entrepreneurial ventures--along with their accompanying origin stories, secret histories & hidden meanings--are a regular pop culture Da Vinci Code that I find absorbingly interesting. In the realm of iconic fast food empires I think we can all agree that the Colonel is an Illuminati. A really folksy, maddeningly rambly, poorly edited Illuminati (seriously, it's like he got absolute, unmonitored editorial carte blanche on this thing--the Citizen Kane of shitty, tell-all memoirs).

Anyway, this one is truly remarkable in that I hadn't heard about it, which seems really surprising. I mean, I went out of my way once to visit the Colonel's grave (not very far out of my way, but still). It was published in 1974 by Creation House in Carol Stream, Illinois. I was pretty excited to dig into this lost treasure, but wow, it is proving a real challenge. This, for instance, is the first paragraph:

"Dadgummit! Ever since I was seventy-four and got paid two million dollars for my fried-chicken franchising business--that I started when I was sixty-five and was thinking about settling down with my social security check--folks has been hounding me to write my life story."

You find yourself saying the words in your head in a Yosemite Sam voice, punctuated by pistol fire sound effects and an occasional "YEE-HAW!" interjected. He goes on to brag about being on talk shows, in parades & on set for his tv commercials (a regular hillbilly jet-setter), & then he bitches about how hard it is to write things (I strongly suspect that this is what Going Rogue must be like...). That's pretty much the entire first chapter, if you can hack it that far. But as far as I can tell, he isn't giving up any real information concerning the underbelly of the chicken biz: the secret of the "famous recipe" is still well-kept (it is common knowledge here in Louisville--home of KFC HQ--that the original, hand-written recipe of the notorious 11 herbs & spices is kept hermetically sealed in a high-security vault, the only existing hard copy. Access to the vault is restricted to a select group of upper-level Freemasons, each of which has memorized a specific part of the recipe. Before their deaths, each selects a successor to pass on their part of the secret to, thus preserving the recipe and its perfect, unbroken line of hush-hushy-ness). So of course, the intrigue does not abate.

One other point of interest: look how serious everybody is in the cover photo! What must the Colonel be reading to that (surprisingly diverse) group of children? Those kids are downright gloomy--like the cruel chicken man just informed them that the world is really a cold, unfeeling meat grinder of cutthroat business deals, complicated franchising logistics & extra-crispy backstabbery. Santa Claus cannot possibly exist in such a morally ambiguous place, children--the Colonel is here to tell you that.

Pete Rose: Can He Get Any Scum-Baggier?

This story about the corked Pete Rose bats has broken recently, and I just don't know what to think about this guy anymore. Sheesh, I totally believed Pete for all those years he denied having gambled on baseball while he was managing the Reds. I loved him for his hustle (certainly not for his looks); he was scrappy, he was entertaining, and he was a colorful part of one of the best baseball teams of all times, so I always thought he deserved the benefit of the doubt and a place in the Hall of Fame.

Then he comes out and admits the whole gambling thing in a crummy, gossip-mongering tell-all book (guess he needed some cash). I was pretty much over him after that, but then the steroid scandal happened and I began to reconsider: yes, gambling on your team is scummy, for sure, but it's not nearly as bad as doping yourself into a Jolly Green Giant physique (Hello, Roid-ger Clements, Sammy Sosa, Mark Macguire, et al). And besides, I rationalized, he never did anything but try like hell to win, so it's not like he was betting against his own team and then taking a dive.

But now this. Jeeze, Peter, just when I was coming back around, too. Keep the bum out, I say. Just another reason to love Johnny Bench even more, I guess.

Bats Take 1st Game in Playoff Series

Readers, it was a great night for baseball yesterday at beautiful Louisville Slugger Field: the Bats defeated the Durham Bulls in the first of the 5 game series. Whoever comes out on top will own the title of best in the International League, and then get to go on to play the winners of the Pacific Northwest league next week.

It was looking a little bad at first: the Bulls scored two runs early and the Bats seemed a bit shaky. I have to admit, Durham is pretty sharp looking, both in their manner of play and in their uniforms: they are really the only team I've seen who actually all wear their socks/pants properly (i.e. knicker length, with visible socks/stockings covering the entire calf). I'm a little obsessed with men's hem lengths these days, both on and off the baseball field...is it just me, or do guys seem to have no idea how to wear their pants? And lest you think I'm treading fuddy-duddy territory here: I'm not strictly talking about the trend of "sagging," I'm just saying what's the appeal of having a big puddle of fabric around your ankles? It looks terrible generally, and in baseball it seems terribly un-athletic. Wouldn't they be more mobile and have a better range of motion if their pants didn't extend to their ankles? Marge Schott is probably rolling in her grave over the yards of wasted fabric billowing over Johnny Cueto's cleats. ha-rumph!

Anyway, you can read the play-by-play here, but check out that picture up there! nice seats, eh? And check out that ballpark! Easily the finest you'll see in the minor leagues, incorporating the original red brick facade of the old Louisville Gas & Electric Co. building, offering nice views and breeze from the Ohio river. And hey: that's real Ky bluegrass on the field--the original grass that was laid down in 2000, the year it opened (unusual since most ballparks re-sod before each new season). A beautiful evening and a very exciting game: lots of hits, a few homers, and steller pitching from our boys made for a good night out at the ballpark. My only complaint? Man, the $1 hotdogs were GODAWFUL! Buddy Bat was on his best behavior, so no drama there (although a couple rowdy fans did heckle the nearest umpire every time there was a close play by invoking the name of the recently-ejected mascot...this, unfortunately, elicited no response).

It seemed like most of the familiar names were absent from the lineup: the Reds apparently called many Bats up before the end-of-season deadline in order to use them for their own impeding playoffs. This meant, sadly, we had to do without the mustachioed majesty of perennial favorite Corky Miller. Oh, well--that might mean a post-season appearance for him in Cincinnati, which would be pretty great. Go, Porky!

And also: go Bats!

Schreck's Photo Diary: Unholy Yule-Time Flavor Combo

Readers, it's been too long since our last booze shopping adventure over at everybody's favorite liquor store: Schreck's Kentucky Liquor Store Drive-In! This time around the stand out product was the Old New England Chocolate Egg Nog, a bargain(?) at $5.99. I have to say, it always impresses/surprises me how fast the turnaround is at Schreck's on these pre-mixed novelty type things--there's always something new to gawk at! Whoever does the ordering there seems to try to keep things fresh by continuously replacing stock with newer, weirder offerings touting what would rightfully be considered ill-advised ingredient match-ups--do you remember the Chocovine "wine" they were selling a few months back? Euw.

According to the label, Old New England Chocolate Egg Nog is "freshly made," which is a good start I guess. Interestingly, this product does not seem to warrant its own website, so any other claims from the manufacturer are not known at the moment. I am no fan of egg nog, and though I am quite a fan of chocolate I don't see how including it into the mix could do anything other than ruin otherwise perfectly fine chocolate. What really impresses me here is how ahead of the game they are at Schreck's--how heartening it is to be looking at holiday-oriented beverages already! I've been completely over our shitty summer o' hell for several months now and any reminder of impending winter (and winter-related imbibing) is a welcome sight for me. So, just strictly based on timing, meteorological conditions, and my own emotional state, Old New England scores a point with this shopper.

However, I am calling the manufacturer out for a big missed opportunity regarding the name: if you're going to try and go for that quaint, old timey feel, for gawd's sake add an "e" to the name! "Old" egg nog just sounds gross, but "olde" egg nog adds that extra little flourish of class, wouldn't you say? A rookie mistake like that steals any possible surface cred from that suggestive little sepia pastoral scene on the label, which is kind of a shame (they probably paid some poor art student 30 bucks for that painting).

The final verdict, based solely on these observations: this product reminds me a lot of Chocovine; I would venture to put them in the same category of chocolate-plus-spirits products. So it would not be too presumptuous to assume that they are direct competitors for whatever audience there is for cheap, chocolate-infused libations (probably the cheap, holiday party-going prankster set). Thus, I would have to say that, based on slicker marketing and a more handsome, European-ish label, Chocovine would likely snag most of the customers who are in the market for alcoholic Yoo-Hoo.

Ump Has Minor League Sense of Humor

Readers, I am happy to report the hometown favorites of the International League have clinched the Western division title and are now moving on to the playoffs! The Louisville Bats--AAA farm team of the Cincinnati Reds--beat the Indianapolis Indians (farm team of the Pirates) yesterday 6 to 3 in their last regular season game of the year. Very exciting news (a situation that will hopefully be duplicated by our big league affiliates to the North pretty soon)--in fact, I'm planning on attending tomorrow night's game vs. the Durham Bulls for the first post-season game (it's dollar hot dog night!). So stayed tuned for highlights!

Also: one thing that grabbed our attention regarding yesterday's game is a little irregular, and I'd say deserves a little investigation. Apparently there was a mid-game ejection involving one member of the Bats organization who usually stays (more or less) clear of controversy: the above-pictured team mascot, Buddy Bat! The local papers are clueless when it comes to news people actually want to read--the morning sports section mentions the ejection, but fails to account for it, like we wouldn't care about a life-sized plush toy getting so out of hand he was barred from completing his day of work! Of course I care about that! What did he do? Was he using obscene language or gestures? Were children weeping? Was he fined? Will the AAA mascot union take action on Buddy's behalf? Come on, Courier-Journal, give us the facts!

It is sad that I have to turn to internet blogs for real news, but so it goes. According to "Nancy" over at Sandlot Swashbucklers the 3rd inning ended after a questionable double-play at first base. Apparently Louisville fans took umbrage, and the predicament inspired Buddy to make a statement:

"Buddy the Bat took the field to challenge a small fan to a race around the bases between innings, and as he did so, he was waving his arms/wings and gesturing about the just-completed double play -- apparently in a way that the first base umpire Lance Barrett did not appreciate."

Ha! Subversive charades! Nice one, Buddy--way to take one for the team! And way to flex that minor league authority there, Lance (some guys got no sense of humor). Go Bats!