Posted by: furmanbisher | June 15, 2009

Loose Ends

Just a few little matters that invade my mind:

The first athletic cup was used in hockey in 1874. First helmet was used in 1974. In other words, it took 100 years for hockey players to realize the importance of the brain. (I can’t take credit for that, but I don’t know where it came from.)

Notice how many times tour golfers go into a tournament and they say, “This course fits my game,” then they miss the cut. Well, Phil Mickelson just said it about Bethpage, but he also says, “I’m playing because I believe I can win. I’m looking forward to four or five hours when I’ll be able to focus on something else”—-speaking of his wife Amy’s cancer diagnosis.

Just a little quiz for those of you out there with a flexible memory, and can remember when Eddie Mathews played third base for the Braves: Which would you prefer playing third base for the Braves in his prime: (a) Mathews or (b) Chipper Jones? Check one

For all the miscalculated deals the Braves have made, and for all the players now holding up lineups around the majors—from Jermaine Dye of the White Sox to Mark DeRosa of Cleveland— probably the worst loss was not a player, but Dayton Moore. He was longtime aide to John Schuerholz, then was lured away to run the Kansas City Royals, already showing the fine touch of his hand. Had he still been around, Dayton Moore would now be running the Braves, and it isn’t far-fetched to suggest they’d be in far better condition than they are now.

Talk about suing for non-support, how about Javier Vasquez? You don’t see better games pitched than the beauty he laid on the Pirates Thursday, and then was told after eight innings he was coming out. He had plenty left, but he became victim of the most incomprehensible mode that has inflicted big league managers, one of the most flagrant, Bobby Cox. Whoever started counting pitches, and deciding that 100 is the killer number should be sentenced to forever in purgatory. Poor Valdez, he came out after 113 pitches—the number given to me—and his fate was left to Rafael Soriano, tall, lean, hairy and inconsistent, and who immediately blew the game. Come on, Bobby, when a pitcher paints a beauty like Vasquez, at least let him finish his work of art. OUT WITH PITCH COUNTING!

Pitch around Chipper and you’ve just about solved the Braves offense. Stick around. Jeff Francoeur ain’t through yet.


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