Rose colored glasses

I've always had a soft spot for Pete Rose, the The Hit King. Check my previous post about how Charlie Hustle bears a striking resemblance to aging disco star K.C. of the Sunshine Band.

When baseball's annual Hall of Fame discussion comes up, Rose is always in the middle of it, sticking his foot further and further down his mouth.

I loved Pete's relentless approach to the game, and head-first slides. But seeing him hawk autographs down the street from Hall of Fame ceremonies in Cooperstown is embarrassing.

Today I'm here to remind you of a baseball commercial classic. I hadn't seen this in thirty years but was still able to hum the words from verse one.

Whether he is hawking autographs or splashing on Aqua Velva, Rose is all wet.

Un-Retirement Party - You're Invited!

I haven't posted a blog entry in a month. Well folks, I've decided to come out of retirement. I talked it over with the family and I decided it was the best thing for me and the team. 

Is my 'coming out of retirement' announcement any less preposterous less those of Brett Favre, Roger Clemens or Michael Jordan? I think not.

Year after year, we're reminded by the media that every touchdown, every dunk, every tobacco loogie could be the player's last. A tearful press conference is held to say goodbye.

Until they return the next season with a media-hyped comeback. Can you imagine if 46 year-old Jamie Moyer pulled this crap every year?

I realize the NFL delights in media coverage not related to a gun charge, but the Favre charade was ridiculous.

Minute-by-minute helicopter coverage of Favre's every move? For an aging backup with a five o clock shadow in grimy cargo shorts? Spare me.

Let's face it. Athletes are babies. And for some of these guys, endorsements, strippers and multi-million dollar contracts aren't enough.

They also throw press conference birthday parties to stroke the ego. The publicity-starved team that makes the risky sign gets ink and tv coverage. And the media have a lead story. Everyone's happy.

But I wouldn't have returned unless I truly felt I had something left in the tank. I wanted to go out on a high note, and I felt this blog was a good fit.

I want to tell all my fans that I'll make sure to let you know if I hang it up for good. But I promise to talk it over with family if I come out of retirement. Again.

Checking in with the fans in Mannywood

I had some amazing baseline box seats for sunday's oven bake of a game between the Astros and Dodgers.

Playing in that heat is not easy. Miguel Tejada aged another year and Joe Torre lost seven of his eighty-three remaining hairs. 

It was 108 degrees on the field, so I made frequent trips to the air-conditioned all-you-can-eat Wolfgang Puck buffet that came with the tickets.

The shaved ham was great, but Wolfgang Puck belongs in an Austrian hockey arena.

But I talked to fans pre-game and mid-game, from top to bottom of Dodger Stadium - to bring you this video update from Mannywood.

2009 MLB All Star Game

The 2009 All Star game felt like a three-hour commercial for its biggest corporate sponsors. I forget who won the game - the American League, or Budweiser?

One thing I know for sure is that Flomax got more coverage in the Home Run Contest than Brandon Inge, who failed to knock one out of the park.

Flomax is an appropriate product for Inge, who was embarrassed by his own dribblers.

Joe Buck, who raced through the introductions for both teams, managed to give extended intros to St. Louis players and natives as if they were royalty.

And color man Tim McCarver, an ex-Cardinal, was beaming like it was his first birthday party.

Cardinals fans booed the intro of pitcher Ted Lilly, who plays for the rival Chicago Cubs. Why?

Since 1908, the Cubs have yet to a win a title, yet the Cards have racked up 10 World Series trophies in that time. So maybe St. Louis needs to choose a "rival" that doesn't play like the Bad News Bears.

Kudos to Tampa Bay Rays outfielder Carl Crawford, the MVP of the game, who said that the spectacular catch he made was "definitely probably the best catch" he ever made.

I totally, sort of, definitely, maybe agree. For sure. Perhaps.

At one point I noticed my gardener playing first base and wearing a Padres uniform. Oh wait, that was Adrian Gonzalez.

And I'm still trying to figure out if the close-up of that bald dude in the stands is the guy from 'Fringe' or David Cone.

All in all, it was a quick, enjoyable game. Until the camera focused on the frightening face of Commissioner Bud Selig, who looks like a C grade CPA on decaf.

I'm going to watch the legends and celebrities game again on TiVo. Sadly, the 2009 All Star Game just didn't compare with Jenna Fischer's batting stance and home runs by Nelly and Andy Richter.

Manny & Joe Plus 24

Manny Ramirez is making news again as he gets into playing shape in preparation for his return to baseball from a 50-game steroid suspension.

Ramirez tested positive for the female fertility drug known as Clovid. Which means Ramirez is one of the most feared hitters in the history of the game with a breast pump. Is that why it was such an issue for Manny to cut her beloved braids?

When the season began, everyone in the clubhouse must have wondered why Manny's locker was filled with onesies, diapers and pacifiers instead of cleats and a uniform. 

But Manny's ability to distract team-mates by nursing them to sleep with warm milk and lullabies must have had something to do with their silence.

Never doubt a she-man on Clovid. 

Listening to Joe Torre apologize for Manny's transgressions, giving preferential treatment to the favorite son, the Dodgers should have their own reality show called 'Manny & Joe plus 24'. Jon and Kate eat your heart out.

Manny's dysfunction in the Dodger family is just as absurd as the one in the TV show. One notable difference is that Manny is actually being welcomed back after the separation.

The Dodgers have been criticized for being young and brash. Which means that Torre, like Kate, needs to give his kids an occasional nap and burping.

But fortunately, when the Dodgers white pantsies suddenly get a brown stain, its usually from a stolen base, and doesn't necessitate a diaper change. 

Meanwhile, Manny's suspension has given him time to think. He's angry and tired of the jokes. Hell has no wrath like a woman scorned.

Interestingly, the young Dodgers remained in first place during Ramirez's absence. So, Manny's hitting skills may have suffered, but his mothering skills improved.

Is that such a bad trade?

Baseball Managers - a weighty issue

It used to be easy to pick the manager out in a dugout. He was the only one with white hair, an enormous belly and orthopedic sneakers instead of cleats.

Now Major league baseball is gradually shifting from older managers to younger ones, and the same trend is occurring with coaches in the NBA.

Many of the old school managers had a big boiler, something that reminded you what happened to a man whose daily diet consisted of fried chicken steak and beers from the clubhouse spread.

But back in the day, waistline equaled wisdom. Current Mariners manager Don Wakamatsu looks like a model from a Bowflex commercial. This is wrong. The presence of a pot belly in the dugout is part of baseball.

I enjoyed when managers made their way to the pitching mound, where the pot belly was on full display. To me, they always looked like an old man in a Halloween costume.

Tommy Lasorda, Don Zimmer, Lou Piniella and others would often unbutton the bottom two snaps of the warm up jacket in an attempt to mask the expanding waistline. This classic boiler-hiding method is still employed by managers and portly pitching coaches today.

Only a svelte skipper like Sparky Anderson could button that elastic lining around his hips and not look like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Joe Maddon, the Tampa Bay Rays manager, had an old-school beer belly going for awhile, but slimmed down. I was very disappointed. His horn rim glasses and big gut were a sight for sore eyes. Very 1968.

Other current managers, like Wakamatsu and Jim Tracy, look like they could run a marathon and have energy afterwards for a game of horse. These guys need to cut the aerobics and go back to whiskey and chewing tobacco.

No-one defies the mold like Washington Nationals skipper Manny Acta, who looks totally bad-ass, like an ultimate fighting champion or the head of a Colombian drug cartel. 

Which reminds me, has anyone checked the outfield lining at RFK stadium for heroin? I'm just saying ... ya' never know.

Finally, a manager's trip to the pitchers mound, once an opportunity to fix a sandwich, is now a brisk one.

It used to be a test of a guy's hip replacement and pacemaker. But the new managers sprint. That leaves no time for fans to boo.

I wouldn't trust a manager without white hair or a beer belly. At the very least, they have to take Flomax. Or wear a pair of orthopedic sneaks.