Your Portland Beavers 6, Salt Lake City 5
Inning One: Waxing Intelligent
A lot of snarky people out there — by which I mean “Buddhists,” primarily — like to ask questions along the lines of: “If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?” This sort of question, I’m led to believe, is referred to as a koan, and I bring it up on account of some of my days here at the ol’ ballpark have forced me to ask a question along similar lines. Said question goes something like: “If you’re watching a Beavers game at PGE Park and almost no one else is there to watch it, does it really count as a baseball game?”
As a fan of the Boston Baseballing Red Sox, and native of the Greater Boston Areas, it’s a stone mystery to me that anyone could dislike baseball. More than a sporting club, the Red Sox are as ubiquitous as, and frequently better than, the weather in the very recently aforementioned Greater Boston Areas. For one to say, “I dislike the Red Sox” is sort of on par with saying something like “I dislike oxygen” or “Frig this water I have to drink in order not to die.” It’s unheard of. And yet, here, in beautiful Portland, Ore, people barely notice the sweet Triple-A baseball going on underneath their well-trained, entirely shade-grown noses.
The average attendance at PGE Park is reported to be somewhere in the area of 5600.* I’m not sure that’s so bad, really, but it’s less than the attendances in smaller cities like Pawtucket, Rhode Island (ca 9100 per game) and Round Rock, Texas (ca 9300 per game) and certainly seems insignificant in light of PGE Park’s capacity of close to 20,000. Also, sometimes this happens, and that’s no fun for anyone.
Part of the joy of sport, so far as I can tell, is not only enjoying the action on the field, but the sense of having witnessed something with others. This would take many more words to articulate well, but the conclusion isn’t so difficult: fewer empty seats = good.
*2008 numbers
Josh Berezin / Portland Sportsman
Inning Two: Waxing Intelligent, Redux
There’s another giant hippy out there* with whom you may or may not be familiar and his name is Paulo Freire. Anyway, I bring his name up because he a) allows me to use the term “full Brazilian” without any fear of editorial recourse** and b) is the author of Pedagogy of the Oppressed, a selection from which I use in my classes at Portland Community College.
You may or may not be aware of one of the more touching passages from the aforementioned text. In discussing one of the larger themes of his work, education as a means to understanding reality, Freire writes:
In one of our culture circles in Chile, the group was discussing (based on codification) the anthropological concept of culture. In the midst of the discussion, a peasant who by banking standards was completely ignorant said: “Now I see that without man there is no world.” When educator responded: “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that all the men on earth were to die, but that the earth itself remained, together with trees, birds, animals, rivers, seas, the stars … wouldn’t all this be a world?” “Oh no,” the peasant replied emphatically. “There would be no one to say: ‘This is a world.’”
Not dissimilar is the ballpark scenario. The fewer people that are in the stands, the fewer to say, “This is a baseball game.” Which means even fewer to say it well.
Which isn’t to say I’m complaining. It’s just … okay, I’m complaining a little bit.
Like baseball, Portland!
*Besides these Buddhist guys, I mean.
**On account of he’s actually Brazilian, not because of his shaving practices.
Inning Three: Actual Fact, Volume I
While we at the Ecstatic Truth Baseball Report have hitherto vigorously avoided what Herr Herzog has referred to disdainfully as “the accountant’s truth,” it might interest the reader to know that tonight, May 8, 2009, in the Year of Our Lord, Eulogio de La Cruz pitched for the Portland Beavers. This is notable not only for the fact that a) his name is Eulogio, and that’s totally awesome, but b) Eulogio De La Cruz has the rare ability to uncork what we in the industry refer to as “blazing fastballs.” His top speed tonight was 97 mph, and he was regularly throwing at 94 mph, both of which are fast speeds for baseballs to travel at.
If all has gone well — and that’s not a given, you probably know, when it comes to the Sportsman – but if all has gone well there might even be a photo appended to this Report which captures the aforementioned Latino having just heave-ho-ed a baseball plateward at maximum velocity. [Proof of the 94 mph pitch -Ed.]
Josh Berezin / Portland Sportsman
Inning Four: Actual Fact, Volume II
This shit must be catching or something, because I got accountant’s truth comin outta me like nobody’s bidness. Anyway, fact number two concerns another event that occurred this evening — namely, the dual ejection, in the bottom of the seventh inning, of Beaver centerfielder Will Venable and Beaver manager Randy Ready.
Venable, called out on what appeared to be a curveball having maybe or maybe not gotten some of the outside of the plate, turned immediately to home plate umpire Tyler Funneman and proceeded to give him (i.e. Funneman) the proverbial business.
Well, as you might imagine, Funneman wasn’t having any of it and, using that power vested in him by Minor League Baseball, suggested to Monsieur Venable some of the places where he could spend the duration of tonight’s game. (Hint: none of them were “on the bench” or “still in center field.”)
Well, Beaver skipper Randy Ready, perhaps swelling up with a sort of paternal concern, rushed from his post in the third base coach’s box and directly to a spot about 3 inches from the nose of Funneman. The present reporter was unable to hear the precise words exchanged between the demonstrably miffed parties, but I am almost positive that Ready informed Funneman that his (i.e. Ready’s) seconds would call on his (i.e. Funneman’s) seconds.
More info when and if it becomes available.
Inning Five: Kyle Blanks Watch!
Kyle Blanks can swallow any size sword, I don’t even care how big.
His line entering tonight’s game was: 303/400/535 (AVG/OBP/SLG) with 14 BB and 27 K in 115 PA.
In 5 PA tonight, he went 1 for 3 with a HR, BB, and HBP.
Listen, I know it’s been a long time since I wrote this here Report, and I know you know that a lot has happened to Kyle Blanks in the meantime. What I don’t want to happen is for you to get all huffy about it, okay, people!?! I’m a man, and I have needs, too — like sleeping in on weekdays and ignoring the most basic of hygienic requirements. The point is, I’m here now, and entirely prepared to eulogize KB to the max.
While considering the aforementioned KB this evening, this is one thing I couldn’t help but notice: that, for Kyle Blanks, jacking a donger might actually be easier than taking candy from a baby. At least that’s what it seemed like when he just went ahead and jacked a donger off Salt Lake starter Brad Knox in the fifth inning of this evening’s game. I mean, I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure I saw him yawn at the exact moment he made contact with the Knox fastball that, very directly after said contact, was bouncing off the stone facade above PGE’s left field wall.
I don’t have a good read yet on how easy it is exactly to steal candy from a baby, but I assume there’s at least some effort involved.
This question remains unresolved, but I, your Intrepid Newsman, will do all I can to get the scoop!
Inning Six: Rob Neyer Watch, Redux
Rob Neyer has a direct line to God — or gods, for all you Greek people out there.
In the event that you live under a rock, you may not have noticed that ESPN Senior Writer and all-around ubermensch Rob Neyer — he of the giant readership, and equally giant, metaphorical brass knuckles – mentioned the ETBR on his preposterously famous blog, The Sweet Spot.
Besides being good for yours truly and yours truly’s occasionally deflated sense of self-worth, Neyer’s generosity in this case is a lesson for everyone, I think. I mean, I don’t know exactly how Neyer spends his time, but given his level of fame, I’m sure it’s not entirely unlike living in R Kelly’s video for “Ignition (Remix)”. In other words, he doesn’t really need to go around recognizing the modest, if entirely heartfelt, ejaculations of a fake journalist like yours truly.
Nor is Neyer’s behavior atypical for many of the sabermetric elite, it seems. I’m not gonna support this claim with anything even close to “evidence” or “examples,” but it’s the impression that I have.
Josh Berezin / Portland Sportsman
Inning Seven: The Stretch (with Rob Morse, sorta)
Owing to what I’ll call my “Very-New-England-Up-Bringing,” I’m not the sort of person to call attention to even the most glaring of my very glaring virtues. Having said that, if Portland Beavers Media Relations Intern “Rocket” Rob Morse becomes incredibly famous sooner than later, it will most likely be on account of how I, in the most recent of these Reports, called attention to his penchant for punifying.
Today, at the ballpark, the Rocket was a little pre-occupied with something he referred to as his “job.” Mysterious-sounding, I know. Still, I was able to extract from him two more fantasy team names that he’s invented recently, and which I think are worthy of an inning here at the Report. They are as follows:
Sir Lancelittle (for a team with with Houston slugger Lance Berkman on it)
The Silent Ts (in homage to Messrs Theriot and Fontenot, both currently of the Chicago Cubs and formerly of LSU)
Inning Eight: Entirely Idle Fantasy Baseball Reflections
On account of the fortnight-long interruption between Reports, there are really too many things to say about the changes, I, Carson Cistulli, have made to everyone’s most beloved fantasy team, The Old Americans of the Sneeze League. David Eckstein? Jason Varitek? Griffey Junior? Yesterday’s news, people. Try: Edgar Renteria, Chris Carpenter, Andruw Jones.
One pick-up I didn’t make, and regret not having made, is of Juan Pierre, who now, owing to Manny Ramirez’s giganto whoopsy, will most likely be manning (if you can call anything Juan Pierre does “manning”) center field for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Anyway, Pierre’s not a great player, but there’s a chance he’ll bat leadoff now and not strike out all that much while doing so.
Alternatively, there is also the specter of Xavier Paul to consider. While Paul hasn’t ever been considered a great prospect, he has been whooping the ball at Triple-A Albu-however-you-spell-it and his translated stats* (294/330/518) indicate he might be of some use.
*That is, his minor league stats, adjusted for level and ballpark.
Inning Nine: Game Summary
One of the things you learned if you watched this evening’s game is that Portland starter Matt Buschmann is not exactly what you’d call “major league ready.” The entry on Buschmann in this year’s Baseball Prospectus ends with the lines, “Triple-A Portland is a tough place to pitch, and many think he’ll meet his match there.” Well, I don’t know who these so-called “many” are, but, in this particular case, they’re pretty flippin’ correctomundo. I’m not old enough really to have been party to the big Rounders craze at the end of the nineteenth century, but my sense is that Buschmann, on account of his general tendency to give up base-knocks, would have maybe been more suited to the game which Walt Whitman, Father of American Poetry, once referred to as “totally hot, in a totally, but also ambiguously, homoerotic way.”
Hey, I didn’t say it, Whitman did.
Oh, and also none of that mess turned out to matter so much as Young Turk Chad Huffman, batting with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning, lofted a shot into right field just past the arm of diving Salt Laker Terry Evans. Said hit broke a 5-5 tie and gave the Beavers a thrilling victory of the walk-off variety.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Josh Berezin / Portland Sportsman
More pictures of the game located on Josh Berezin’s Flickr.
