Here's What .500 Looks Like, the June Edition

I don't think we're going to see that same, ugly implosion we saw last June. No sireee.

Is everybody else having fun with this? Because I sure as hell am.

Speed Kills, the MLB Version: The 2011 All-Fast Guy Team

Bud Selig used to love to say, 'chicks did the long ball,' which was kinda creepy coming from a guy who looks like he has Paris Hilton's dog perched on his head, not to mention wrong-headed, as steroid use finally exploded all over MLB and likely tainted Selig's run as commish permanently -- he will be known as "the Performance Enhancing Drug Commissioner," always linked to Mark McGwire's pathetic obfuscations and Barry Bond's giant coconut head.

At any rate, I'm not a huge fan of the home run. I'll take it, mind you. You'll never hear me gripe when one of my Buccos drills one to left field, but this chick? This chick digs speed. Nothing is more exciting than watching players who turn slow infield rollers into singles, guys who can go from 1st to home on doubles, guys who steal bases and make pitchers uncomfortable, speedy outfielders who get to balls in the gap. Speed, brother. That's what I'm after. And if I were a GM, I'd try to build a ball club with speed at every position.

Sunday Recipe: Polenta with Cremini Mushrooms

My Italian great-grandmother used to tell me funny folk tales, light, cautionary tales, mostly about the dangers of braggadocio and not keeping a clean house. Yup, these were the values passed on to me -- don't be a big mouth (or, as Gram used to say, 'a big bull-a-sheet,' her phrase for a big bull-shitter.) And also to always make the bed and do the dishes. In a funny way, that about sums up my entire world view -- if you have a clean kitchen and you aren't a big blowhard, you're probably a fine person.

What, you are by now asking yourself, does this have to do with food?

The 2011 Fat Guy Team

After making a gratuitous (some might say fatuous) Fat Jimmy Anderson reference earlier, I started to think about who are some of the fattest lard asses in MLB today? Needing no introduction, the 2011 All-Fat-Ass Team. [Look for MLB Fattest Asses of All-Time at a later date.]


Yankees reliever, Joba Chamberlain.
Dude was probably one of those 'husky' kids in grade school, but now he's just fat. And I know that muscle weighs more than fat and all that, and he's not Orca fat, but seriously? Joba? Seriously?

On Paul Maholm, Balks and Missed Opportunities

I like the unusual occurrences, the kinds of screwball plays that don't happen all that often -- like a great run down, the use of the infield fly rule or the triple play. This is why I love balks. Love. Them. You don't see them very often. They're tricky, slippery little suckers, nebulous movements that happen in a blink of an eye. So I usually revel in the rare balk.

But I was not at all happy yesterday to see my friend the balk arrive at Citifield in the bottom of the 8th inning. Jose Veras' balk moved pinch-runner Willie Harris over from 1st base to 2nd base, which then allowed Mets Skipper Terry Collins to insert Josh Thole mid-at-bat for Chris Capuano. It was like dominos falling. Capuano was there to bunt Harris to second, but with Harris already at second, Collins was freed up to put a real hitter in there. With Thole at the plate, and after having committed a balk, Veras went temporarily insane, threw a wild pitch that put Harris at 3rd and then walked Thole. Instead of a man on 2nd and one out, the Pirates were up against men on 1st and 3rd and no outs.

The Deadliest Balk.

Up and Down, and In and Out, with the Pittsburgh Pirates

Last night, in front of a sparse New York crowd (just about 25,000, of which 24,000 must have been in the upper decks, because it was mostly empty behind home plate and along the baselines), your Pittsburgh Pirates won their 17th road victory over the Mucking Fets -- as many road wins on June 1st, 2011 as they had throughout the entirety of the 2010 season. Per this morning's Post-Gazette story, the players are downplaying it, but I think that 2010 road trips must have felt like extended funeral corteges. Scratch that, I actually have been to funerals that were more fun than watching the Pirates on the road last year.

Stone Panels by PNC Park

Anybody know anything about the history of these stone sculptures just across from PNC Park? I'm a big fan of public art and I've admired these for 15 years. Any info would be welcome.

Pittsburgh Was Once a Baseball Town -- Can It Be One Again?

On Saturday night, I went to the Pirates game, a 6-2 win over the Detroit Tigers. Also, notably, it was a sell out, with the last 7,000 or so seats sold in walk-up traffic. Heck, I can't remember the last time I was at a sold out Pirates game. [Oh, wait, I can. It was opening day a couple of years ago, but before that, honestly, it had to be 1992 -- a late September game against the Mucking Fets at Three Rivers. I can actually picture my seats in the old concrete toilet on the third base side.]

The extraordinary drought since that 1992 season makes it easy to forget Pittsburgh's storied baseball history, perhaps the richest history you might find in a market this size, particularly when you factor in the amazing Negro League teams fielded by the Homestead Grays and the Pittsburgh Crawfords. Home to Honus Wagner. Site of the first World Series ever. Pie Traynor. Josh Gibson. And, of course, the great one, Roberto Clemente. It's a veritable murder's row of baseball luminaries.

Sunday Recipe: Tuscan Chick Pea Soup

The only idiot I know who ever got food poisoning in Florence, Italy is ... well ... me. To the people of Florence, a modest suggestion -- cook your sausage. C'mon man.

What the raw sausage incident meant in foodie terms is that, when I was finally feeling better and could safely leave the immediate proximity of my hotel room's toilet, I wasn't up for any big time food adventures or in the mood for another gigantic, tuscan seared Flintstones-type steak. I did luck out and find a great little local joint, with no menu, but a selection that varied daily. When I had lunch there, the soup of the day was supa de ceci -- just the essence of chick peas in a bowl and, I would point out, the best meal I had in Florence. Amazing stuff.

Top 10 Sporting Events to Take Us Beyond the Rapture

Well it appears the Rapture is indeed upon us. Maybe you call it the end of the world? Semantics, my friends. Semantics. But it seems to me, that if God is calling all the chickens home to roost, she might be in the mood to grant some wishes? I don't know, but I think God understands balance -- hellfire and damnation should be balanced out with some thoughtful presents. Dig?

So what I'm saying is, if the supreme being wants to give me a gift, he can permit me to witness, first hand, some of the great sporting moments in history. I'm almost ashamed to say that I've actually thought about this over the years, but if there were ten sports events I could attend in person, if money and the shackles of a little thing I like to call time and space were not objects, which is to say, if I could travel through time, what sports events would I want to see, live and in person? This list turns out to be kinda baseball heavy. Who knew?

One Game Over .500

Here's what 18-17 looks like kids:

Head Injuries, Progress and Pessimism

I have had this terrible thought for about a month now -- we may not see Sidney Crosby even at the start of the 2011-2012 season.

That Crosby suffered setback from his January concussion(s) mid-way through the playoff series versus the Lightning cannot be a good thing. Head injuries are funny. Not funny ha ha or funny witty, but funny sad ... really, really sad. And also tricky. There's not a straight line of recovery, the way there often is with a knee injury or shoulder injury. Brains are complicated. Months had passed and yet, Sid still had a nasty bout of symptoms. And I wonder ... if three months were not enough for his head to get better, why do we think six months will make it better? Or eight months? There are no guarantees here.

The All-Fro Team

This season, Oakland Athletic's player, Coco Crisp, has grown out a magnificent, Oscar-Gamble-Worthy Fro. I love the 'fro. Particularly in baseball. There are lots of trends that I hated in the 1970's, but the fro? I totally stand behind the big old afro. This is a good start to my All-'Fro Team:

The original, the one and only, the undisputed greatest baseball afro of all time, Oscar Gamble.

What in the World Is Wrong with Pedro?

More thoughts from Bucco central.

Since the days of Honus Wagner, a third baseman is supposed to be, by design, a serious bopper. It's truism because it generally works -- good baseball teams have a a big stick, or a reliable stick (or both) at third base.

All of which made suffering through the Andy Laroche era an especially painful indignity. Understandably, much rejoicing ensued in places as far flung as Carrick and Millvale, Bloomfield and East Liberty when the big club called Pedro Alvarez up from AAA ball. Word was that Alvarez was the draft pick that the Pirates finally got right -- a can't miss prospect, a prospect so coveted, in fact, that the Pirates drafted him second overall, even knowing they would have to deal with his agent, the noxious Scott Boras, in contract negotiations. Alvarez was so good as to be worth that. They, and we, expected to get some bang for our trouble.

Pittsburgh Passion Win 2011 Home Opener

The turning point, according to Michelle Brevard, was the offense getting something going midway through the 3rd quarter. As a six year veteran, team captain and starting safety for the Pittsburgh Passion, I suppose her opinion should count for something.