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Sacramento 3, Your Portland Beavers 1

Inning One

It’d be hard to tell by looking at me now, but when I was in fourth grade I was a little bit of what you might call “a giant nerdbone.” My hair was vigorously unkempt, my clothes were more than a notch below haute couture, and whatever the opposite of “only speak when spoken to” is, that’s what I did. The silver lining of this giant, dorky cloud is that I was actually, if memory serves, a fairly decent student. And, perhaps more than that, I was an incredibly ambitious one.

Which is why, when my friend Rob Carroll revealed to me that his teacher Mrs. M* had allowed him to move up to the very difficult and mature Spelling Book E from the embarrassingly simple, really almost childlike Spelling Book D, I took it (i.e. his relative success) as a challenge. The very next day (we’ll pretend, for drama’s sake), I requested some face time with my own teacher, Mrs. Terry of the Deep South, to request that I move up as well.

What Mrs. Terry of the Deep South could have said, if she really thought that I wasn’t ready for the very difficult and mature Spelling Book E, is maybe something like, “I appreciate your desire to do well, but I’d like you to stay with the embarrassingly simple, really almost childlike Spelling Book D for the time being.” That’s what she could’ve said. What she did say, totally straight-faced and without any sense that it was inappropriate in any way, is: “Carson, you’re not as special as Rob.” Which, I’m no child psychologist, but I’m just gonna guess that this isn’t the sort of sentiment to help a young person down the road to Self-Esteemville.

The reason I bring up this story is not so much to arouse the reader’s pity (I’ve done enough of that inadvertently, I’m sure), but rather to say that, were Mrs. Terry of the Deep South to resurface today, look me in the eye, and inform me that I wasn’t as special as my friend and co-blogger Ross McSweeney, I would, instead of regarding it as a slight, just give her a tip of that hat as a offer of tacit agreement.

This, or something like it, is what I was thinking shortly after I read Ross’s most recent post at The New Enthusiast, where we blogicate with our friend Danny Woytek. It’s about — that is, his article — is about stadium financing and Thomas Pynchon simultaneously. So frig that guy.

*This isn’t a pseudonym or anything. It’s just, I forget this lady’s name.

Inning Two

One of the issues upon which Ross touches in the aforementioned post is the recent decision by the Portland City Council to offer backing, in the form of bonds, to the tune of $65 million to soccer-ize PGE Park and build a minor league baseball stadium in Portland’s Rose Quarter. It appears as though the Council was greatly persuaded by a “personal guarantee” from Portland Beavers/Timbers owner Merritt Paulson and his family.

It might interest the reader to note that I have written many of the words for this fledgling column within spitting distance* of Merritt Paulson, as he spends a great deal of time around the ballpark, in general, and the press box, specifically. Because I’m not as smart as Ross — and therefore less susceptible to recognizing the glaring injustices of stadium financing — I find myself unfazed by these close quarters. Rather, I find myself thinking other, simpler things like, “Wow, that guy is rich” or “Wow, his hair is so neat.”

Mostly I mention this to impress upon the reader the degree to which I roll with the fabulously wealthy.

*Not that I ever would spit on him.

Inning Three

In observaton of Earth Day, PGE Park and the Portland Beavers presented Nothing Night this evening. In an attempt to promote conservation, they turned off the video board, limited their PA announcements, and played nothing but organ music between innings.

Possibly in observation of Earth Day, a whole bunch of hippies smoked some of the chronic really close to my house this afternoon.

Inning Four

Along with temporarily abstaining from the above-mentioned, the Beavers also suspended on-field promotions for the evening — again, in the interest of conservation. Perfect timing, as far as I’m concerned, as it allows me to deliver on a promise I made last Report, when I suggested that I’d like to contribute some of my own ideas (for free!) for promotional activities.

This isn’t native territory, so bear with me. Still, I think the following might be a big hit with the masses. My big ideas — I like to them “BIs” — my BIs are as follows:

• Give two young people a fifth of vodka and typewriter each. Next, send them to Spain. To win: become The Next Ernest Hemingway. The prize: literary stardom and rampant alcoholism.
• Give two young people a fifth of vodka and duelling pistol each. Next, ask them to duel. To win: shoot the other young person. The prize: an authentic Aaron Burr replica duelling pistol and tricorne.
• Give Carson Cistulli a fifth of vodka. Thanks, now I have a fifth of vodka.

Inning Five

Sacramento, Portland’s opponent this evening, is nicknamed the River Cats. If my calculations are correct — and they must be because Wikipedia is never wrong — there are six (6!) minor league teams with the word “cats” in the name. They are (accompanied by level and parent club):

• Sacramentio River Cats, Triple-A, Oakland A’s
• New Britain Rock Cats, Double-A, Minnesota Twins
• New Hampshire Fisher Cats, Double-A, Toronto Blue Jays
• Carolina Mud Cats, Double-A, Cincinnati Reds
• Lynchburg Hillcats, Single-A, Pittsburgh Pirates
• Tri-City ValleyCats, Rookie League, Houston Astros

Of these six things, only one of them isn’t just something plus the word “cat.” The fisher cat, or simply “fisher,” is a North American marten, a medium-sized mustelid (whatever that means). According to Intrepid Radio Broadcaster Joe Castiglione, who once spoke at length about the fisher during a particularly slow Red Sox game versus Toronto, it is “a very nasty creature.”

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Inning Six

Kyle Blanks Watch!

Kyle Blanks is the only star in the Ecstatic Truth sky. Also, he’s a giant.

In 4 PA Monday night, he went 1 for 3 with a 1B and BB.

In 4 PA Tuesday night, he went 1 for 4 with a 1B.

In 4 PA tonight, he went 0 for 3 with a BB.

His line entering tonight’s game was: 340/475/532 (AVG/OBP/SLG) with 10 BB and 13 K in 59 PA.

One other note: Blanks batted with the bases loaded in the bottom of the third and I almost peed my pants with excitement. Unfortunately, he grounded into a double play. Double unfortunately, I had pee in my pants for like six innings.

Inning Seven

Will Venable Watch?

Will Venable, CF/RF for the Beavers, hit two home runs Tuesday night to bring his season line entering Wednesday’s game to 347/418/694 (AVG/OBP/SLG) with 6 BB and 14 K in 49 PA.

Venable is somewhat of an interesting case study because, while he’s a bit old (26) to be considered a prospect, he’s always played pretty well for his levels. And, as this year’s installment of Baseball Prospectus suggests, there’s some reason to expect late development from Venable on account of he didn’t play a full season of baseball until age 23. in addition to being a standout baseball player there, Venable was also a first-team All-Ivy League basketball player for Princeton University, which accounted for his inability to focus on one sport, in particular.

Current Baltimore Oriole and former Philadelphia Sixer Mark Hendrickson (the hot guy pictured below) is an interesting comp for Venable — less for any physical likeness (Hendrickson is 6′10″ while Venable is 6′2″) than because he also played basketball and has something almost interesting to say about the limits it put on his baseball development:

Because he devoted so much time to basketball, Hendrickson had a lot to learn about life as a full time pitcher. “I was always around baseball,” he commented, “but what a lot of people don’t realize, and what I didn’t realize is that I didn’t put in the time in the time and dedication into know how to get my arm into shape, how to take care of it, and how to pitch on a regular basis.”

It’s possible the same could be true for Venable — except where Hendrickson discusses his arm and learning how to pitch, that might be plate discipline for Venable. How bout we wait and see, hm?

Inning Eight

Critics of baseball — including, I’ve recently found out, almost evey last student I currently teach at Portland Community College — cite baseball’s slow pace as the number one reason for disliking it. If they’d watched tonight’s game with me, they would’ve turned to me and just gone, “Q.E.D., Carson Cistullipants.” I swear, with the exception of Chad Huffman’s trip-piece (baseball’s most exciting play!) in the bottom of the fourth inning, almost nothing happened. At one point, I did stab myself in the face, but that — like David Eckstein’s grit — doesn’t show up in the box score.

Inning Nine

If someone can tell me what the deal is with Manny Parra, I — along with all the other members of my spirited fantasy team The Old Americans — would sure love to know. Please feel free to reach me at thenewnethusiast@gmail.com. If this is Manny Parra reading this, you have some explaining to do, buddy-boy.

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