To Slide Into First or Not

Apparently, Nick Punto is being stubborn about sliding into first base, as he has been wont to do for several years. This is much to the dismay of many Twins fans and media-types, and I suppose other baseball fans who think that you just don't do that, because, well, everyone knows you don't.

But consider these points:

1) It has never been proven that NOT sliding is better, it has only been passed down for years as "studies show" or "everyone knows" hearsay.

2) On a throw that pulls the first baseman off the bag, the head-first slider is immeasurably more difficult to get out with a sweep tag. You will commonly see this type of throw on a hurry-up play, a play that is likely to be close, yet the runner doesn't quite know HOW close, like a high-chopper or a bunt...the type of play in which Nick commonly finds himself.

Bottom line...if you know how to slide head-first without getting hurt (which, by the way, is the SAFEST base to slide into), go for it.

If you are Justin Morneau, step on the bag and head to the dugout. You'll get 'em next time.

I would not, however, recommend sliding into first in recreational softball. On the bang-bang plays in which the fielder has made an on-target throw to first, most umpires will likely have the old "everyone knows you don't do that, therefore I'm calling you out for doing that" mentality. You may occasionally avoid a sweep tag on poor throws, but it is still at best a wash, and just not worth it for us wannabes.

Oh, and in case anyone wants to submit the argument that you don't see sprinters diving head-first at the finish line, consider these three points:

1) It isn't exactly slide-friendly dirt on the other side of the finish line
2) They DO stick out their chests, an act which detracts from proper sprinting form (thus slowing them down, to borrow from the anti-sliders' logic)
3) Sometimes they do

Twelve Goals for 2009

Here they are, only two months late or so:

Learn five songs on accoustic guitar completely (not just strumming the chords)
Write five new complete songs
Get bodyweight down to 185 lbs. at no more than 12% bodyfat
Finish 12 books
Sell something on E-Bay (so far, I have only ever purchased things)
Paint the house
Fix the bad boards on the deck and re-stain
Fix boards under the window sills
Get golf handicap index to less than 1.0
Quit raising my voice at the kids
Become better organized at work
Become better organized and tidier at home

I have mini-goals that I'd rather not publish. Basically, they are goals that are more measurable and specific than things like not raising my voice at the kids. They are designed to supplement the more vague goals above (mainly, the last three).

Wish me luck, especially on the golf handicap. I finished 2008 at 4.3. The chances of an experienced golfer making such a drop in one season are pretty slim. But I've got a plan, at least. If I work the plan, but still miss the goal, I can live with that.

No SC Just Yet

My wife go the word today that her clinical will be in St. Peter, at the Community Hospital, about an hour drive from home. It's a good thing we live in the South Metro, and that she'll generally be driving against the heavier traffic. Still, that's quite a long commute.

Her clinical is only for one semester, however, so I suppose South Carolina is not out of the question. We'll know where her second clinical is no later than July 3.

Why Tomorrow's News May Mean Year-Round Golf

My wife is in her last semester of classroom learning (for Radiology), and will then go on to two semesters of what they call "clinicals." My understanding is that it is something akin to an internship, the end of which hopefully becomes a paid, full-time employment offer.

A potentially life-changing event in the process happens tomorrow. The school will decide where each student will spend his/her clinical. Most of them are located in Minnesota, primarily in the Twin Cities area. Three positions, however, are located in South Carolina.

Approximately 15-18 students will find out their fate tomorrow, and there really is no preferential treatment regarding where one gets placed. One student did volunteer to go to SC, but even if that happens, there is still a one-in-eight (or thereabout) chance that my wife will spend May to December in South Carolina.

If that happens, we will have some major decision-making to do in the coming months. But my mother always told me not to worry about things over which I have no control. While year-round golf definitely has its appeal, I'll wait until tomorrow before thinking about the good or bad of possibly relocating. I'm afraid the bad would outweigh the good, and I don't need that keeping me up all night.

Psychics and Scheisters and Other Synonyms

I am a skeptic.

Say that to some people, and they will assume you mean you are a cynical, negative person: an all-around jerk.

I'm not any of that (although some may disagree; we all have our detractors). I just think extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, to borrow one skeptical axiom.

So when I saw that an upcoming Sylvia Browne show was sold out at the 3,000-seat auditorium at Treasure Island Casino, yet the recent Frank Caliendo show was not, I was more than disappointed. More accurately, as a skeptic, I was disgusted.

Tonight, my wife and I watched one of her favorite TV shows, Medium, which is supposedly based loosely on medium/psychic Allison DuBois. As a fictional drama, it's an average show. (I'd like it slightly better if I weren't so sick of Patrica Arquette jumping up in bed after every bad dream. I can't think of one time that ever happened to me.) To think some people may see it as based on true life events is another ugly thought. Hopefully, most people recognize it as fictional.

Same with Ghost Whisperer, with which psychic James Van Praagh has some production ties. Again, it's so-so fiction, but Van Fraud makes me sick, so perhaps I am biased.

As does Gary Spivey, a guy who does a lot locally, including guest spots on KDWB's morning show, hosted by Dave Ryan, a guy whom I might otherwise respect. But hey, if Sylvia Browne can sell out at TI, KDWB probably gets a good audience with Spivey, so Dave will kiss his butt until that changes, I imagine.

Of all of them, including John Edward, Sylvia Browne makes me the most ill. Probably because she is so obviously bad at what she does, yet gets big appearances on Montel, Larry King, and these dang live sold-out shows. And how many freaking books are people going to keep buying of hers before realizing they do not belong in the non-fiction section?

I could go on and on about my disdain for Browne. One story exemplifies what I find so loathsome about her. Just Google sylvia browne coal miners and you'll find numerous sources. Or go straight to this link from a site whose mission I support: stopsylvia.com. She is a fraud, and deserves the reverence of a common criminal. Worse, her audience is largely made up of people who have lost loved ones and want so desperately to believe her.

Check the link above, then tell me I, the skeptic, am the jerk here.

MIA at MOA

Saturday night, my wife and I learned just how quickly one can lose a child. At the Mall of America, no less. What seemed like an hour, but was really probably no more than 15 minutes, may have taken a couple years off of our lives.

Actually, I was pretty cool-headed. Awful thoughts entered my head, but exited just as quickly as I stayed focussed on finding him. So was my wife, although she said inside she was just about ready to give up, when we finally found him. Here's how it happened:

It was my wife, our two kids, and two of my kids (out of three from a previous marriage; the other was at a sleep-over). After we had supper at Johnny Rocket's on the third floor, we decided to head down to Nickelodeon Universe and buy some ride tickets (wrist bands, really, but we misspoke and called them tickets...more on that later).

So as my daughter was pushing our one-year-old toward the elevator, our three-year-old is following behind her. My wife, looking at the menu at the yogurt stand, asked me where we might find some milk for the one-year-old. I glance at the menu, then look at my daughter across the busy mall hallway, and ask, "Is (three-year-old) with you?"

"Yes," she answered.

So my wife and I look at the menu further, only to realize there is no milk on it. After a little less than a minute of that, we decided to just head down and look later.

When I got to the elevator, my daughter was waiting for us with one-year-old. I looked around and asked, "Where is (three-year-old)?" It turns out when I asked her if he was with her before, she thought I meant (or said) the one-year-old. Spinning around and scanning the area quickly, I realized he was not within 50 feet of us, and said, "You gotta be kidding me!" How I kept from cursing, I do not know.

It was no one's fault, really. Three-year-old managed to walk 100 yards or so to the Radio Shack. I don't really remember whether someone noticed he was lost on their own or whether they noticed him after Security had communicated. Again, it happened quite fast, yet seemed so long.

Apparently, when the first woman (of the two who returned him) talked to him, the conversation went something like this:

"What's your name?"

"(Name)"

"Who are you with?"

"With my brother. My daddy is going to get some tickets."

"What's your daddy's name?"

"Daddy!"

"What's your mom's name?"

"Mommy!"

I was most worried about his love of escalators and other things he could get himself injured on (not to mention, heaven forbid, a three-story fall). Also, whether he would be scared. He wasn't, although when he was returned to us, he first saw my older son, and he ran towards his big brother and said, "I missed you!"

My wife was, understandably, worried about the worst. She says she nearly lost it; I was pretty proud of how well-composed she kept.

One thing we both agreed on: after something like that, you want to hug the little guy and not let go for a while.

I thank the MOA security for how quickly and professionally they responded.

Twenty Years Younger in '09

I'm almost ready to post my 2009 goals.

Here's a teaser: In January 2007, I weighed an all-time high for me, 251 pounds. I lost 37, then gained a lot of it back.

In January 2008, I weighed 231. I lost 31, then gained a lot of it back.

Yesterday morning, the day of the kick-off to an office "Biggest Loser" contest, which will last about three months, I weighed 218. The last eight-or-so pounds was from intentionally pigging out, as all of us did, leading up to the contest. (For the contest, I officially weighed 219.8, which included clothing weight.)

So one goal in 2009 is to get down to 185, and to keep it at 190 or less by January 2010, and get my body fat percentage down to below 15% (It's around 18% right now). The last time I weighed as little as 185 was around 1989.

Here's to looking 20 years younger this Summer! I might actually take my shirt off at the beach this year.

Super Boss and Speed Balls

As a huge Bruce Springsteen fan, I thoroughly enjoyed his Super Bowl performance last night. I got a kick out of his version of a "wardrobe malfunction" controversy; his crotch-to-the-camera slide. If he gets into trouble for it, a la Janet and Justin, maybe he can blame it on a "Depth Perception Miscalculation."

I also ordered my tickets for his May 11 show at Xcel Energy Center today. It will be my wife's first Bruce concert. For some, their first Bruce concert is almost like a religious awakening. I'm not getting my hopes up on that, but hopefully she'll at least reach a new level of respect for him.

My father-in-law was glad to see him perform Glory Days last night, his personal favorite. My dad, who on the other hand doesn't know Bruce's stuff too well, called me from Florida after the show and asked if the song was kind of his signature standard.

"Not really," I answered, "but lyrically, it was a logical choice to follow up his new song with and close the set, because he's 59 and trying to stay relevant, unlike a lot of older rockers who bank only on nostalgia." I wasn't quite that poignant, but that's the gist of it.

Funny thing about that song is that I've heard at least four times over the years from friends (and one comedy writer) comments to the effect of, "What the heck is a speed ball, anyway?" (The comedy writer, and one friend even, offered this answer: One thrown by Steve Howe. It was a topical joke once upon a time.)

(If you'll pardon another parenthetical, for any who do not know what "speed ball" refers to, the opening lines to the song go like this:
I had a friend, was a big baseball player, back in high school
He could throw that speed ball by you, make you look like a fool, boy)

Now, I've thought about this long and hard over the years, because I took it as a comment against Bruce's writing, and thus, a personal insult. As if to say that Bruce, who is supposed to write believable stories about common, everyday folk, is a fraud because he can't even get common baseball terms right.

My argument is that "speed ball" is the perfect term for the song. The song, after all, is about how we end up telling "boring stories of glory days" as we get older. Bruce, in character as the narrator, even admits:

And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinkin' about it
But I probably will

It's a key point worth repeating that Bruce is in character. It isn't Bruce telling us this story, it's a character. And I've met guys like this character, talking about the glory days - just fish stories, really - and I've noticed certain things in their stories that just don't add up. Having the character in the song call it a "speed ball" only furthers the purpose that this song is, in large part, about telling boring stories. After all, what believability does a story have coming from a guy who doesn't even know the game well enough to call it a fast ball?

I know it's a stretch to believe someone might actually be so unknowledgeable as to use the term "speed ball," because most people over the age of twelve know enough about baseball to call it a "fast ball." But I've heard people call extra innings in baseball "overtime," so perhaps it's not that much of a stretch.

Bottom line is this: I think Bruce consciously chose "speed ball" over "fast ball" just to add a little more "fish story teller" touch to the character. I remember the professor from my undergrad course, Understanding Literature, saying that great writers do not waste words. I think Bruce has realized this, and at least after his first two albums, rarely wasted any words himself.

That said, please don't Google the lyrics to his song Reno. Pretty please.