June

So, yikes - it's the end of June. My first season coaching is over, trophies and pizza to wrap it up for the dudes. My first semester is over, as is the first of my 2 summer sessions. The second starts next week and includes Educational Foundations and Teaching Science in the Elementary Classroom (the latter I'm totally excited about).

The Mets are leading the majors in grand slams allowed, which I'm finding to be one of the least pleasant superlatives to watch your team achieve. The U.S. exited the World Cup - disappointing, as I was really getting into the team vibe. I'll root for the Dutch now, because they're orange and fun and I just got a dutch Gazelle road frame from the late 70's.

I received the unexpected birthday present of selling one of my bikes to Wyatt Cenac of the Daily Show. We are not new-best-friends yet, but there's time.

Becky and I have a full-season of weddings to attend from now through December, having only knocked-out Buffalo thus far, and peaking Labor Day weekend when we'll be attempting a New-Jersey-New-Hampshire-Saturday-Sunday-flip-twist-turnpike. 5.8 difficulty (out of 6).

There have been some mighty achievements in the kitchen the last 2 months. These include:

fish tacos with fresh tortillas and avocado/sour-cream sauce

artichoke and tomatillo soup with blended white beans (this was a home run as far as warm-weather soups go)

and this plate of pasta from last night, which while simple, was so summery fresh (it's all in the peas, kids!), that even brutal 90-degree-quilt-like-humidity couldn't stop the chow-down.

The Blind Side and Mercy Rules

Saturday was The Firebirds' 4th game of the season, and as Coach Andrew was out of town, it was just me in the dugout with the boys. We were playing a team we'd received advance warning on, and true to that warning, they were big hitters and they played like an experienced squad. What can I say - we lost 12-0, called in the fourth on the Mercy Rule, but the boys played well. I know this coaching thing is a good match for me when I still have a great time on the wrong end of a Mercy Rule game, and it seemed like despite the score, my guys had a good time too. They're totally starting to gel as a team, at least as far as pre-game horseplay is concerned. It's pretty easy to see improvement week to week in their skills, especially the kids who started a little behind the others. When the guys that haven't got the bat on the ball once in a game do it for the first time, it's honestly thrilling. We missed some basic baseball concepts that will be addressed at Wednesday's practice, but really - as long as the team looks like they're having fun, I think I'm doing my job well.

Last night, Bec and I finally saw the Blind Side. She loved it; I was entertained. For the first 30 minutes of the movie I could barely look at that sad kid's sadder face, even though I knew it was going to turn out well. My simple review would be this: there wasn't enough football to be a movie about football; there wasn't enough tension to be a movie about race and class. I think maybe it was a movie about motherhood, but there wasn't enough of the other kids in the family. I'm just going to have to read Lewis's book. Maybe that will help me understand how Joe Theismann's broken leg fit into the movie's bookends. At the very least, I now have more respect for Sandra Bullock and her somewhat appliance-like face.

Put Me In, Coach!

A friend from Hunter, Andrew, and I quickly found out that we both like sports, more importantly - baseball. This lead to the following exchange at happy hour after we finished our last midterm:

A: Dude, I've been meaning to ask you - would you be interested in coaching a little league* team with me?
J: Absolutely.
A: Sweet!

A few days later I found myself as a coach, at my first youth baseball practice ever. My list of realistic regrets is pretty short, but not playing youth baseball myself, is in the top 3. Never mind the personal history there - I swear I could've been a solid 1st baseman (lefty that I am) - 4 practices and one official game into this season and I must say it's stupendously fun. Saturday, the Prospect Park Baseball Association opened the season with a parade in Park Slope that went down Seventh Ave and up 9th st to the Park, with a local marching band leading the way. The streets were filled with teams, coaches and family. Then later in the day we had our game. I suppose I should report that we did not emerge victors, but isn't the score fun-against-fun when it's 9 - 2? Wait...how does that saying go...I better look it up. Really, I was very proud watching our guys out there stealing bases (yes!), striking out the other team's little dudes (yes!), and even blasting a couple deep shots. We had the bases loaded a few times but couldn't bring 'em home. Luckily, there's a whole season ahead of us to figure that one out. While walking the dogs I'm finding myself thinking of drills to run in practice, and now that we have this game under our belt, I'm thinking of what we did well and what needs work. There were a lot of smiles in the dugout and I think we've got a pretty scrappy Bad-News Bears vibe kicking around, which is good because I'm a big Walter Matthau fan.


*technically, not Little League. It's a local Brooklyn organization.

Baseballtime

Can the Mets break hearts a fourth year in a row? I've had several months of not entertaining this question, but now with these first semi-expected-miserable April days, it's the beginning again. I will say two things. First, is that I wasn't heartbroken at the end of last season, since I was telling my dad and Bec that the Mets "definitely have something wrong" about a third of the way through the season. Becky would now assert that I thought all the pieces were in place when they signed Johan, which I can't utterly deny, but that was before the season began and for the most part, a feckless assessment. Bottom line: it wasn't surprising they crapped the bed in the face of the Phillies chase, just sort of impressive that they were able to so thoroughly execute the chokejob we were all afraid of. Not winning the Endy-Catch Game 7 (which I was at, mind you) was horrible. Watching the next season's collapse and attending 2 of the final 3 games including THE Tom Glavine 1st inning implosion game...well that was also horrible but in a new, more nauseating way than the prior horrible. Becky said it best, after attending far more games in one season than I'm sure she would've preferred (thank you, babe): "Baseball seems really depressing - everyone gets their hopes up and then they get disappointed, over and over.*" I guess she's been paying attention.

Here we are though. A new season. A few million have landed us one of the best closers in baseball[Frankie Rodriguez], a potential lockdown setup guy [Putz], a great bit of platoon/pinch-hitting pop in the bottom of the order[Sheff]. Dan Murphy and Big Pelf are looking really solid, and Oliver Perez has to get less crazy at some point, right? Aside from Luis Castillo, I really really like the team this year. I think we're going to the Series. Unfortunately I think the affection-holding Sox might be too, which is a pickle I will have to cross when I count my gift nickles, as they say.

Yesterday I left the house to get a couple of groceries around the 5th inning with a Met lead of 1-0. How could I leave, you might ask. Easy. First of all: I knew the score would be 2-1 Mets in the 8th when I got back, which it was. Secondly, I had the comfort of knowing that there will be baseball for the next 7 months, laconically moseying into the fall with a gradual acceleration of intensity barely perceptible as it's happening, but boiling the frog by the end of September. I love that with baseball (and DVR), I can leave the room and come back. I love that in New York, yesterday's game results track me down even if I've missed them. I'm pleased that despite the big signings, there's a core of guys that really feel like Mets to me. I'm thrilled to watch some games at the new park, even though it's got a paid-for name and ugly brick that undercuts the really nice arch and metal work. I'm psyched that I can see the Mets doing really well, but personally I'd rather lose with a team I like, than win with one I don't.



*Try Pittsburgh, says a smirking Ron Schmal.