Duking It Out

Ever since I found Duke's Mayonnaise is available locally I have been using it on nearly all my foods.

Ham and cheese sandwich? Duke's!

Turkey and cheese sandwich? Duke's!

Roast beef sandwich? Duke's!

Corned beef and Swiss sandwich? Duke's!

Tuna sandwich? Duke's!

What do you use with fried fish instead of tartar sauce? Duke's!

You need a dip for potato wedges? Duke's!

Out of milk for your breakfast cereal? Duke's!

Okay, maybe not that last thing. But you get the idea. I'm Duking it out! I bought two more jars already. It's. That. Good

Anticipation

One of my favorite things about baseball is that you can savor moments, at least more so than in many sports. In hockey, and I do like hockey, goals seem to come up suddenly, indeed almost unexpectedly. Blink and you miss. But baseball? The moments allow a certain enjoyment because they tend to build.

Take the Columbus Clippers game which the Ohio Cosgriffs and I were at last Saturday. The home team won, but it was a slog. They weren't hitting very well, and then the second baseman couldn't complete a double play in the top of the seventh inning, which allowed the lead run to score for the visiting Omaha squad. As that night's match could only be seven innings by rule (it didn't start until after 9 PM because of a rain delay, and in the minor leagues any game beginning that late is seven rather than the typical nine innings) that run loomed large. 

Columbus, then, was down 2-1 as they came up for their last at bats. When the first hitter struck out, it looked bad for the Mudville Nine. But the second batter drew a walk, and a pinch runner who was presumably fleet footed was sent to replace him at first base. A bit of hope was felt by the crowd.

Batter three swung mightily at the first pitch he saw yet missed for a strike. But on the next pitch he connected for a moon shot, a huge, arching fly ball which caused the crowd to jump to its collective feet. The ball sure appeared to be a home run off the bat. Yet you must wait and see. You get to anticipate that happiness which you know approaches.

The ball sank around ten rows beyond the left field wall. Cheers erupted. Columbus wins 3-2 on what is known as a walk off homer, because technically the batter doesn't have to jog around the bases, the contest being decided.

He did, of course, and the patrons could revel in that, their patient fandom rewarded with the late victory. 

Sure, walk-offs as such can happen in other sports. But they aren't as magical as in baseball.

Monday Marty Mini-rants

If someone tries to frame you into a Catch-22, do what's right and don't worry about them. No one has the right to put you in an impossible situation. It's the very heart of gaslighting.

If you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, don't. No point working towards damnation.

A stitch in time saves nine. Yeah, I never got that one either.

Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away. You can't let another person's bad attitude affect you.

Lincoln was right: never argue with a fool. People might not be able to tell you apart. 

See what a sleepless night can lead you?

MiLB

The Ohio Cosgriffs and I went to the Columbus Clippers game last night. The Clippers play in the highest baseball minor league, the Triple-A level. It's pretty good ball.

Huntington Park is their home field. It's cozy; seats around 10,000 I'll hazard to guess. It's a nice stadium, pretty much downtown in Ohio's capital.

Baseball brings out the kid in you. Just setting foot in a new arena brings back all those memories of going to games with me Pops and me family. Looking over the old baseball uniforms and equipment on display; the smell of the food; the deep, lush green grass, the bright white bases against the well raked brown soil on the diamond; there's not much better places on Earth than a ballpark. 

I think I'll go again sometime.

82 years

D-Day: June 6, 1944. More than eighty years ago today began the largest amphibious landing of an armed force in world history. As Allied troops hit the beaches at Normandy in the wee hours of the morning, at points code named Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno, and Sword, the liberation of Europe was begun. The high point of the Greatest Generation was underway.

The Greatest Generation stands now at its wane. Its members are all in their 90s now. The celebrations of their accomplishments are becoming fewer, smaller, and less intense. Even with improvements in medicine and diet, only a mere handful will still be around in a decade. Most of their number are gone already.

It is no small compliment to call them the greatest. Has there been any other challenge successfully met by anyone else in any other time? True, we are dealing in immeasurables when we say such things. Yet it's still pretty clear that nothing anywhere close to the magnitude of World War II has occurred in all of human history. Might a greater threat and a greater harm rise? Yes, of course. Indeed, I would expect it at some point. But to date, this is it.

What can we learn from these people? We can learn perseverance, we can learn faith; we can learn to believe that, when a serious threat to home and hearth nears, humanity can rise to meet and defeat it. We can learn the humility which so many of the Greatest have displayed when speaking of their efforts in later years. We can learn that all of history teaches us to respect and remember what those who have gone before us have done for us. We can remember that our lives are here today only because of what they did with their lives, and against terrible odds under unspeakable conditions.

We can learn to respect heroism. We can learn to revere the heroes.

Never forget.

Own It

I recently read an article which claimed that the two sports with the oldest average fan base are baseball and golf. The average baseball fan is 58; for golf, it's 62.

What are two sports I watch far and away more than any others? Baseball and golf.

Old age. I am owning it.

Just Trying for a Picture

As I was enjoying my daily constitutional this morning, I reflected on how pretty nature can be even in the big city. The wispy red clouds which greeted me as I left my house were sublime; a thin mist held sway just above the grounds of nearby Wayne State University. A few minutes later I noticed the morning Sun shining straight down Warren Avenue, wonderfully illuminating even the asphalt pavement in a yellow glow. I decided to try to get a picture of that.

Taking out my phone, I tapped on the camera icon. I sought the best angle for the shot without the bright Sun obliterating the scene. Too much Sun and you wouldn't see anything; it would overpower the lens. Once or twice I tried but things weren't quite right. A third attempt seemed to offer the best picture. 

As I began to take it, other sweet morning sounds came to my ears. There was the blaring of a bugle which may have been a car horn; there was an earnest voice which offered, "Hey old man! Get out of the street you're gonna get killed!"

So maybe morning rush hour traffic isn't the right time to catch nature's beauty. At least not in the middle of Warren in the city of Detroit.