Years ago I was caught up in the song "Willie, Mickey, and the Duke", aka "Talkin' Baseball", written and recorded by Terry Cashman. I thought it might be clever to write a Twins parody to the song. Joe Souchery, then of the Star Tribune and author of "Once there was a Ballpark", got wind of my song, gave me a special number to his Sportstalk show on KSTP, and I called in and sang it on the radio show. Rob Leer of KSTP news heard it and invited me to sing it on the news broadcast in August 1981. There was a baseball strike on at the time, so I guess the sports desk was a little slow. I am sharing the lyrics here:
Zoilo, Tony, and the Brew
(sung to the tune of Talkin' Baseball)
The Millers had Galen Cisco, The Giants moved to Frisco,
And watching minors wasn't too much fun.
The Majors were a dream, The Met needed a team
Then Calvin moved the Senators from Washington.
Talkin' Baseball
Bertoia, Bonokowski
Talkin' Baseball
Mincher, Perranoski
The Mudcat, the Kitty, and Old Blue
They knew them from Duluth to Waterloo,
Especially Zoilo, Tony, and the Brew.
And then came the Series, The fans were delirious,
To watch their hometown boys play in the fall
Jim Grant was at his best, The Twins had met the test
'Til Sandy blitzed them down with his fastball
Talkin' Baseball
Bertoia, Bonokoski
Talkin' Baseball
Mincher, Perranoski
The Mudcat, the Kitty, and Old Blue
They knew them from Duluth to Waterloo,
Especially Zoilo, Tony, and the Brew.
Now my old friend Brandy, he loved to watch the Killer Clout 'em out,
And my pals from the alley, would go to see Versalles,
And me, I always loved Tony O. -- Where did they go?
The fans now are bored, with Jackson and Ward,
And Calvin, and Twinkie, and the boys.
With Adams and the Koos, they always seem to lose,
The crack of the bat at the Met is just a lot of noise.
Talkin' Baseball
Roy Smalley and Castino
Talkin' Baseball
They ought to go get Dino
Sluggers, my gosh they need a few
Goodwin and Butch will never do
They're not like Zoilo, Tony and the Brew.
That's the original. The reference to Dino was Cicerelli who was tearing up the NHL with the North Stars at the time. In 1982, I added the following verse:
The fans in the first deck are now cheering Hrbek
Since Calvin traded half the team away
They've got a brand new home, it's downtown in the Dome,
In spite of rain or snow there'll be a game today.
Talkin' Baseball
Eight dollars gets you in
Talkin' Baseball,
Go out and see them win
Though Gary, Kent, and Tom will park a few,
There'll never be another Rod Carew,
They're not like Zoilo, Tony and the Brew.
So, that was 26 years ago. If I ever write a new verse, or expand the song, you can believe Kirby and two World Series Championships will find their way into it.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Bats and Balls
Professional baseball players are sometimes superstitious, fussy, and even arrogant at times, but when you are paid enormous sums of money to excel in a game, we mere mortals need to expect and accept the quirks of personalities. We all remember Serrano of “Major League”, using shortstop Dohrn’s golf head covers as “hats for bats”, and sacrificing a chicken (from KFC) to Jobu so he could get a hit.
In real life, there are a number of rituals and specifications. Travis Hafner of the Cleveland Indians bonks his head with a new bat and listens to the sound. I hope it isn’t distorted by ringing in his ears. Justin Morneau weighs his supply, to find only the ones that are exactly 32 ounces. Ted Williams used to travel to the Louisville Slugger factory to pick out which tree he wanted made into bats. Also, when a bat is pretty good, but not perfect, the players will rub it with the bone of a cow. I wonder why it has to be cow. Wouldn’t a walrus tusk do the job? How about the bone of a dog. There are a few in my neighborhood that I would volunteer for the task.
Personally, I think bats should have names. Model C341 just doesn’t do it for me. How about a plum scented “Big Fly Agent”. Maybe a “Tater Zone”. Michael Cuddyer could use a “Shock and Awe”, and when he connects; could give it an awesome flip before rounding the bases. I expect Alexis Casilla and Nick Punto use an old Piranha when they bowl, I’m not sure of their bat choice.
Whether it’s striking out in baseball, or failing to strike in bowling, it seems we are all quick to blame the equipment. It couldn’t possibly be that we failed to execute. There are so many different bowling balls on the market these days. Many different ways to drill them also. And each one could be a little different out of the box. But in spite of what or how many bowling spheres you have in the bag, you still have to roll them with your arm, hand, and wrist. Some people change balls at the drop of a unit of oil. But if you’re not blessed with a huge arsenal, there are a number of methods to get Ol’ Betsy to knock em all down. Move on the approach, move your target, change speeds, change your hand position at release, and when all else fails, make sure to pick up those pesky spares. Then you’ll see that average rise.
I’m closing for now. I have to dig a few bowling balls out of my garage, bounce them off my head to see how they sound, and decide if they are gamers.
In real life, there are a number of rituals and specifications. Travis Hafner of the Cleveland Indians bonks his head with a new bat and listens to the sound. I hope it isn’t distorted by ringing in his ears. Justin Morneau weighs his supply, to find only the ones that are exactly 32 ounces. Ted Williams used to travel to the Louisville Slugger factory to pick out which tree he wanted made into bats. Also, when a bat is pretty good, but not perfect, the players will rub it with the bone of a cow. I wonder why it has to be cow. Wouldn’t a walrus tusk do the job? How about the bone of a dog. There are a few in my neighborhood that I would volunteer for the task.
Personally, I think bats should have names. Model C341 just doesn’t do it for me. How about a plum scented “Big Fly Agent”. Maybe a “Tater Zone”. Michael Cuddyer could use a “Shock and Awe”, and when he connects; could give it an awesome flip before rounding the bases. I expect Alexis Casilla and Nick Punto use an old Piranha when they bowl, I’m not sure of their bat choice.
Whether it’s striking out in baseball, or failing to strike in bowling, it seems we are all quick to blame the equipment. It couldn’t possibly be that we failed to execute. There are so many different bowling balls on the market these days. Many different ways to drill them also. And each one could be a little different out of the box. But in spite of what or how many bowling spheres you have in the bag, you still have to roll them with your arm, hand, and wrist. Some people change balls at the drop of a unit of oil. But if you’re not blessed with a huge arsenal, there are a number of methods to get Ol’ Betsy to knock em all down. Move on the approach, move your target, change speeds, change your hand position at release, and when all else fails, make sure to pick up those pesky spares. Then you’ll see that average rise.
I’m closing for now. I have to dig a few bowling balls out of my garage, bounce them off my head to see how they sound, and decide if they are gamers.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Super What?
Each year, around the time that Puxatawny Phil is searching for his shadow, and we are left wondering why those six weeks left of winter are the longest weeks of the year, a hundred million Americans or more huddle in front of the television set for the annual super spectacle. Many of those care about the game, (most of them having placed a wager), but an equal number just want to check out the new TV ads, imbibe with friends, or watch the halftime show in hopes of another wardrobe malfunction.
Since the NFL has blatantly stolen the name of “Bowl” for their winter spectacular, (think about it. They claim the name comes from the New Year’s Day college rank stadiums, but those stadiums are ovals at best, some are shaped like horseshoes), if the PBA ever wishes to reach this level of attention, they need to come up with the “Super Kegle”. I’m thinking it could start with 64 of the best players in the world, and those players would be seeded into a large bracket consisting of four regions. The bracket pairings could then be posted in the daily newspapers and 32,000 web sites with associated contests to pick the winners. The conversation at the watercooler at work would go something like: “Who did you pick in the Bohn III vs. Williams Jr. match.” Or “Do you have Couch in the Sweet 16?”. “Can you believe Rash knocked out Weber?”, “I never pick those upsets.”
Commercials could include Charles Barkley giving golf swing lessons for Callaway. Natalie Gulbis showing Ben Rothesberger how to ride a Harley-Davidson hog. And David Spade interviewing various Twins players for a Capital One competitor: Joe Nothan, Pat Noshek, Nick Puntno, and Francisco Liriano, all get jobs, and Justin Morneau is appointed supervisor. The last guy is kicked out and goes to work for Capital One, Michael Cuddyeah.
The Final Four of the Super Kegle would of course feature the four survivors from the regional brackets. Because of the huge fan interest, the show has to be moved from the National Bowling Stadium to the huge Metrobowl in Minneapolis. This domed facility was converted when the Twins moved to their new home by the garbage recycling dump, and the Vikings moved to their floating stadium on Lake Minnetonka. The matches are converted to three game sets, so they can fill five hours, and stop after the fifth frame of the middle game for the half time show. This year’s show features the Dixie Chicks, who were canceled from their originally scheduled appearance at the Republican National Convention. The Chicks set features some of Willie Nelson’s favorite bowling classic tunes – “Mama, don’t let your babies grow up to be bowlers”, “My Heroes Have Always Been Bowlers”, “Whiskey River Lanes”, and “Help Me Make it Through the Night”.
The Super Kegle mercifully ends after an hour of bowling and four hours of commercials and halftime show, when Wes Malott fouls on his final shot and loses to Walter Ray Williams Jr. 257-248. My bracket was wiped out long ago so I rush to my tipboard number clipped to the refrigerator with a National Bowling Stadium refrigerator magnet. Sigh – I had 5-5. Why is it that none of these pro games ever end in five.
Each year, around the time that Puxatawny Phil is searching for his shadow, and we are left wondering why those six weeks left of winter are the longest weeks of the year, a hundred million Americans or more huddle in front of the television set for the annual super spectacle. Many of those care about the game, (most of them having placed a wager), but an equal number just want to check out the new TV ads, imbibe with friends, or watch the halftime show in hopes of another wardrobe malfunction.
Since the NFL has blatantly stolen the name of “Bowl” for their winter spectacular, (think about it. They claim the name comes from the New Year’s Day college rank stadiums, but those stadiums are ovals at best, some are shaped like horseshoes), if the PBA ever wishes to reach this level of attention, they need to come up with the “Super Kegle”. I’m thinking it could start with 64 of the best players in the world, and those players would be seeded into a large bracket consisting of four regions. The bracket pairings could then be posted in the daily newspapers and 32,000 web sites with associated contests to pick the winners. The conversation at the watercooler at work would go something like: “Who did you pick in the Bohn III vs. Williams Jr. match.” Or “Do you have Couch in the Sweet 16?”. “Can you believe Rash knocked out Weber?”, “I never pick those upsets.”
Commercials could include Charles Barkley giving golf swing lessons for Callaway. Natalie Gulbis showing Ben Rothesberger how to ride a Harley-Davidson hog. And David Spade interviewing various Twins players for a Capital One competitor: Joe Nothan, Pat Noshek, Nick Puntno, and Francisco Liriano, all get jobs, and Justin Morneau is appointed supervisor. The last guy is kicked out and goes to work for Capital One, Michael Cuddyeah.
The Final Four of the Super Kegle would of course feature the four survivors from the regional brackets. Because of the huge fan interest, the show has to be moved from the National Bowling Stadium to the huge Metrobowl in Minneapolis. This domed facility was converted when the Twins moved to their new home by the garbage recycling dump, and the Vikings moved to their floating stadium on Lake Minnetonka. The matches are converted to three game sets, so they can fill five hours, and stop after the fifth frame of the middle game for the half time show. This year’s show features the Dixie Chicks, who were canceled from their originally scheduled appearance at the Republican National Convention. The Chicks set features some of Willie Nelson’s favorite bowling classic tunes – “Mama, don’t let your babies grow up to be bowlers”, “My Heroes Have Always Been Bowlers”, “Whiskey River Lanes”, and “Help Me Make it Through the Night”.
The Super Kegle mercifully ends after an hour of bowling and four hours of commercials and halftime show, when Wes Malott fouls on his final shot and loses to Walter Ray Williams Jr. 257-248. My bracket was wiped out long ago so I rush to my tipboard number clipped to the refrigerator with a National Bowling Stadium refrigerator magnet. Sigh – I had 5-5. Why is it that none of these pro games ever end in five.
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