text:
Can we move on to the Hot Stove phase of the season yet, Whit? I realize that there's a series being played, but it's somewhere out in the Midwest, amongst all those red state people that we don't talk about at cocktail parties. I'd rather focus on what matters to us East Coast elites. Like the fact that the Sox resigned Mike Timlin this week to a $2.8m, 1-year deal. Guess I'll be waiting another year before I give him that Gilley's gift certificate as a retirement present.
We've got big plans here at the LC, including but not limited to the expansion of the blogroster and a broadening of the focus to include 2 more of our favorite things, beer and music. If we execute on this vision, you're looking at the interweb's primary purveyor of all things baseball, brews, and backbeats. Or, perhaps, a site frequented by 25-30 mostly bored nitwits, as opposed to the 15-20 that visit us now.
So we need you to wrap up the Mets' season, which despite the admittedly painful end was a pretty damn successful one. As we've discussed, the pain will serve to make the pleasure that much sweeter next year, if the Curse of MLC runs its natural course.
Here's Where the Story Ends
Game 7 - NLDS
Cardinals 3, Mets 1
Cardinals win National League pennant, 4-3
I'm not ready to talk too much about this yet. The highest of highs was all too quickly followed by the deepest depths. There are stories to be shared, but it'll have to wait until the nausea that comes with every discussion fades away. I'll say with the perspective that 48 hours brings that the Endy Chavez catch was the greatest live sports moment in my life. The chills still come at the memory of the moment that we all realized he'd actually come down with it, not to mention the double play that ensued. If only . . .
Damn. It's just . . .
Posted by Whitney at 11:23 PM No comments: Links to this post
New York City/The Believer
NLCS Game 6
Mets 4, Cardinals 2
Series tied, 3-3
My nameless colleague asked me to pinch-hit for him this afternoon as he speeds up Interstate 95 with his equally nameless brother-in-law, bound for Mezzanine Section 33 of Shea Stadium and a Ferris Bueller-esque evening of hijinks and merriment (and, in all likelihood, heart-stopping tension). Jealous? Yes, perhaps just a tad.
I found myself nervous and fidgety as Billy Wagner turned a 4-0 Mets lead into a tightrope exercise by eschewing his 100 mph fastball for his slightly wild 85 mph slider, so I can only imagine what my Metfan friend was going through. (In truth, I know exactly what he was going through - echoes of 2004, and all that.) In my brief interview with him this afternoon, though, he claims to have been mostly calm, expecting Wagner to finish off first Taguchi (not So much - erkerkerkerk) and then Eckstein (ecks-hale).
As for this evening, both Shea-bound Mets fans surveyed are mostly happy that their squad finds themselves in this situation, describing their mindset as "cautiously optimistic". I neglected to ask how many road sodas had already been consumed. I might have a different take, were I a Met fan contemplating the fact that Oliver Perez was taking the ball on 3 days rest in the most important game of the season.
There's already been some interesting symmetry between these Mets and the Idiot Red Sox of 2004, so I leave my colleague with this thought, lifted directly from my entry on the afternoon before Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS: "I don't have any words of analysis, because none of them are worth anything. Roll the balls out, get the game on, and let the chips fall where they may."
Is This It
Cardinals lead, 3-2
Well, that wasn't much fun. The Mets are now on the verge of elimination, and their saving grace is one John Maine. Oh, my. All season long, like most in the Mets' blogosphere, I have offered my two cents on exactly how the Mets should tackle the challenge at hand. I have no such guidance at this point. Here's all I can muster in the way of advice:
Score more runs than your opponent through nine innings.
Genius, I know.
Looking at the pitching match-up is the first place to begin any pre-game analysis, and it doesn't bode well for the Metropolitans. That said, nothing in this series has gone down the way it should. From the Met bats being silenced, to the crappy Cards hitters blowing up, to the good pitchers pitching badly to the bad pitchers pitching well, it's been an altogether . . . stupid series, for lack of an appropriate baseball term. No reason to think it'll get any smarter from here on out.
Worth mentioning: we've got tickets to Game 7 in hand. Man, oh, man, do I not want Patrick to get reimbursed for those. Get me there, Mets, and I'll take care of the rest. (Hey, I have 24 hours and a train ride to think of how that'll happen.)
NLCS - Game 4
Mets 12, Cardinals 5
Willie Randolph did well to paraphrase an old baseball adage last night, that momentum is only as strong as the next day's starting pitcher. Honestly, it means little to nothing in this game. (And in the Township, mention "Big Mo" and you've got a knuckle sandwich ordered up.) Now, in the case of sweeping momentum, a la the Detroit Tigers of the past couple of weeks, it's palpable. When it's a game's worth, or even a couple, it really can be undone with one starting pitcher.
Enter Oliver Perez.
Okay, I'm joking. But he did get enough of a job done to make it work, and frankly he was a hell of a lot better than Maine or Trachsel . . . hey, a quick typo there enlightened me to the fact that "trash" is in "Trachsel." Who knew?
The real story of last night's enormous, gargantuan, series-swinging, and if you believe the hype, momentum-changing win was the offense. Big bats went a-flyin' in Busch Light last night, and about the only downside I could find was a continued reliance on the long ball -- but hey, if they're going to keep hitting them with that regularity, press on. (And they did manage some old-style rallying after the barrage of taters.)
True Confessions: I may have pulled a muscle in my side when I leapt off the couch upon seeing Carlos Delgado's three-run jack. Worth every twinge as I danced and jumped and made hideous caucasian fist-pumping mayhem in the den. It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive, the sage once crooned. And dammit, I was.
Rain in tonight's forecast; more chatter worthy of talk radio and other low-brow forms of communication as to which club is better aided by the delay. Both starters will be going on the same two days' rest. Glavine has done it fairly often, not to much success in the playoffs, but he doesn't rely on velocity much. Weaver throws harder, but he's younger and presumably heals more quickly. What a quandary. Don't care. After last night, momentum is suspect but my frame of mind is bolstered immeasurably. I'm still mentally frail and wrought with anxiety, but my debilitated state has a pleasantness to it absent 24 hours ago. Play tonight, play tomorrow, but just play the way you can -- like last night reminded you, perhaps?
Let's Go Mets.
To the Kill
Games 2 & 3 – NLCS
Well, that was just pure agony. The past two nights have been brutal on my innards, as the usual angst and tension supplemented by doses of frustration, rage, resignation, disappointment, and dread. Watching baseball sure is fun, huh?
Game 2 hurt because I felt the game was in hand all night, even as the Cards kept coming back. As I predicted, the Mets got to the St. Louis ace, Chris Carpenter, but John Maine went in the tank. Guillermo Mota held fast, then let up – that was the blown lead that really stung, when I thought the Mets would coast. But this Redbird team has that increasingly annoying eye of the tiger / team of destiny thing going on – there's no denying it. They, along with the Tigers, seem propelled by a force greater than what's on display between the lines. Damn them.
That sentiment was underscored when Jeff freaking Suppan shut down the Mets' O and, oh yeah, homered off Steve Trachsel. There's little I can say about Trachsel that hasn't already been said, capitalized, emphasized with many exclamation points, and censored at certain Mets forums in the last 24 hours – or that hasn't been written in this space. His upside over the years (inning-eater, solid, not prone to the big inning) evaporated in an instant last night. He and John Maine both folded when the Mets most needed them.
The home plate umpires have had something to do with it. Not that you can take the onus off Maine & Trax – hell, no – but they rely on calls like Glavine got, and instead they got squeezed like an intern's cheeks in the Steve Phillips era. It was a recipe for a long night, and that it was . . . twice.
I've been trying like hell to get my superstitious regimen lined up, but this series has stood as Exhibit A in the case to debunk the voodoo hex that has commanded my behavior in postseasons past. Hats, shirts, and Met gear of all kinds – no configuration seems to work consistently. Patterns of where I watch, how I watch, with whom I watch . . . non-existent. The only thing I have noticed that has worked has been the Rob Russell Anti-Mojo Factor. Basically, when Rob has made a comment lauding or cheering for the Mets' opposition, the Mets seem to win. It's a bizarre reverse-psychology form of fortune I employed several years ago in the ALCS when the Red Sox went down 2-0 to Oakland until I donned an A's cap and changed the outcome. I need something from my cohort now before it gets desperate here.
Oliver Perez goes tonight in a must-win game, a horrifying statement for Mets fans throughout the Township. On a related note, I'm going to go throw up. David Wright appears to have regressed into wide-eyed rookie status, Jose Valentin left his bat in the regular season, and the Mets' world seems to quake when Scott Spiezio steps to the plate. It's been ugly for a couple of nights, and there's at least a decent chance that it could get worse tonight.
Meanwhile, my brother-in-law is pleasantly applying the blinders and sipping the Kool-Aid, bidding on tickets for Game 7 and checking out plane fares to Detroit. I'm a wreck, of course. Now that the Redskins have soiled themselves once again, costing Rob 50 grand, this has the makings of the worst sports weekend for me in recent memory. Only William & Mary's fourth-quarter comeback against a team they should beat with their second string on roller skates saved a clean sweep, but good reason, the Mets are consuming my rooting interest now.
This is it. These are the moments that will stick with you forever, boys. As Gordon Gano sang, this will go down on your permanent record. Don't get so distressed, just go out there and play the kind of baseball you're capable of playing. I'm not ready to kiss off this season just yet.
Game 1 -- NLCS
Mets lead, 1-0
Last night I watched a Mets game that could hardly have been more perfect. It was a tense, tightly contested match-up that was neck-and-neck for all nine innings. There was stellar pitching, there was inspired defense, and there was a mammoth Met bomb off the scoreboard that won the game. Oh, and it opened up the 2006 NLCS.
Everyone wants to talk about Beltran's tater, how he has dominated in a small but freakishly good but still small sample size in October and especially against St. Louis. I think it's great, of course, and I hope all of the chatter will get Chris "Rainy Days & Mondays Move Up My Start" Carpenter and the rest of the Card staff fixated on Beltran while the other guys get their more than capable licks in. Cliff Floyd is out, and it hurts, but pitching & defense win these things, and without Endy Chavez's dazzling display of the latter, who's to say how last night turns out? The lineup has to pick it up for Clifford, just the way Tom Glavine did in unbelievable fashion for his fallen comrades.
Carpenter vs. Maine is one of the few match-ups in this series that seems overwhelmingly Redbird. Much has been made of the advantage garnered by the Cards because of the rainout-induced shift in the rotation, specifically how much better off they are with Carpenter going tonight. Here's a scenario I'm putting atop my wish list: Chris Carpenter, with one less day of rest and away from the friendly neo-Busch, takes a loss tonight against the revved up Met bats; St. Louis is then faced with opening up their home stint the next night without their ace and in a load of hot water. It could happen, and it would make my weekend just a tad less anxious.
John Maine, nobody wants to talk about what you bring to the Mets. Here's hoping that the next after-the-fact media story is a re-visit to the spring trade of Kris Benson, and the Mets laughing last.
For the record, how I have been feeling all week, especially late last night, is precisely why I got so cranky at the Mets for denying me the past few years. The energy is amazing.
Let's Go Mets. It's a mantra simple enough you could teach it to a three-year-old, and I did. Don't let her down.
Suddenly, and sadly, we're at one of those momentum-halting breaks in the action where brutal reality wakes us from the dreamlike state of baseball fandom. The bizarre and tragic news of ex-Met pitcher Cory Lidle's fatal plane crash into the side of a Manhattan apartment building derailed all of the focused attention on the New York Mets and their playoff future. It's just a rotten development for baseball and a depressing day for the people who watch, coach, and play it.
Deep confession time - I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider how the tragedy might affect the Mets tonight and in this series. The weaker team in any match-up hopes for any sort of distraction to upset the odds. Not that the Cardinals could be glad for such a startlingly horrible distraction, but New York residents must be a little frazzled today, and the Mets may be no exceptions. Getting back to playing baseball was a nice salve for more globally horrific events of the past, so perhaps a Mets win tonight could have a similar effect on a smaller scale. That's about as much as I want to incorporate someone else's personal tragedy into thinking about my team's baseball games.
A more usual disturbance to the Met train could be the weather. There is always a ton of chatter as to if and how a rain-out affects the outcome of the series; Captain Kurkjian thinks it favors the Mets unless it means Chris Carpenter gets an earlier start. The latter appears to be a definite possibility, to the point where some supposed tide could turn the Cards' way from it. I actually am hoping to hear a whole lot about it, and then to see the Metbats thump the ace in another display of the sports press being a day late and a buck shy.
In truth, I am wishfully thinking that none of the above will make a difference on the result of this series, and that the better team -- by my calculations, anyway -- should prevail. It's been since Saturday since the Mets played, though, and I'm just itching to see them get out there again. Game on . . . finally.
A few posts below, you'll note my brilliant (and clearly obvious) plan to foster a false sense of security in the New York Yankees by denigrating the Detroit Tigers. (Little known fact: Johnny Damon is a huuuge MLC fan, stemming from that time we wrote about his haircut, or something.) In conjunction with Whitney's diabolical sabotage of the Minnesota Twins, anointing them (or their riverine doppelgangers) presumptive World Series champions, the events of the first round of the MLB playoffs have shaped up quite nicely for his Mets.
It goes without saying that I'm pleased as punch with the Yankee loss and the concomitant chaos in their organization. I think Big Stein will come to his senses, but I'd prefer if he fired Joe Torre and replaced him with Lou Piniella - not only will the pitching rotation be a wreck by next July, the resulting clubhouse tension would put to shame the Bronx Zoo-era Bombers. For entertainment value alone, the 2007 Yankees would be worth the price of admission.
I'd be pretty confident right about now if I were in Whitney's shoes, but my respect for the superstitions of the game means that I will understand completely when he responds in (probably mock) horror at the suggestion. Despite the Mets pitching woes, they match up fairly well with the threadbare Cardinal staff, Chris Carpenter notwithstanding. And the Metros' offense and bullpen are clearly better than those of their opponent. New York in 6, and only because Carpenter gets to pitch twice.
In the Junior Circuit, I'm torn. I'd like to see Detroit win because it'd be a great story, and I'm grateful to them for their systematic dismantling of the Yankees. On the other hand, an Oakland triumph would be a rich and overdue retort to the old-line sports media and their uninformed hatred of the Moneyball system. Listening to Joe Morgan have to congratulate Billy Beane (you know, the author of the book in question) would be sweet music, indeed. In the end, I think Le Tigres are just thismuch deeper in the rotation and bullpen, and the 2 offenses are a wash. With Mark Ellis' ALDS injury meaning that the A's have to start Marco Scutaro and DeAngleo Jiminez in the middle infield, the scale tips to the Motor City - something that would have been unfathomable to me 7 days ago. Detroit in a full 7 games.
Ahh, baseball, you magnificent bastard - many thanks for the early end to angst-filled autumn evenings and here's looking forward to some edge-of-the-seat action over the next 2 weeks.
Moving Right Along
Game 3 – NLDS
Mets 9, Dodgers 5
Mets win, 3-0
The quick and efficient dispatching of Los Angeles didn't come without a price, as Cliff Floyd's latest battle wound (a strained Achilles tendon) might keep him on the shelf for the duration of the Mets' time in the playoffs. The irony of Floyd suffering that particular injury is fairly thick, what with that part of his body so obviously not his only weak spot. Still, it's hard to be anything but pleased as punch with what went down in the NLDS for the Metros.
Losing Floyd should be neither under- nor overstated. His veteran (and fairly bad-assed) presence in the outfield and the lineup will be missed, though we'll assume he'll still be in the clubhouse. Clearly, he still has some pop, as Derek Lowe found out in Game 1, and despite the erratic year he had, I like the Mets' chances better with him in the mix. That said, his year was erratic, with too many stints of ice cold in the batter's box or icing down another body part instead of taking the field. I'd like to believe that it's another case of the Mets withstanding a body blow in this quest for the title, and since these things usually come in threes that this marks the final segment of the injury bug. I can't help but believe, however, that the team cannot endure many more losses like this.
Most important in the sweep, as my brother-in-law remarked wisely, was that it took an Oliver Perez Game 4 start out of the equation. He's a question mark I'd rather leave on the keyboard for now. Now it's time to get everything set up for St. Louis. Here come the Cards, left for dead a week ago but looking ominously Phoenix-like at the moment.
As with the Tigers, the Cardinals' season-closing downward spiral had the pseudo-pundits of the sporting world writing them off entirely. (Meanwhile, somewhere below I had the St. Louis E Street Shuffle advancing to face the Mets. We won't mention my miles-off predictions for the AL. I'm an NL guy, anyway.) It's not really that surprising that they both rebounded splendidly in the NLDS; you might remember a team that backed into the playoffs in 2005; the South Siders needed a Cleveland collapse to get in, then blew through the postseason convincingly. Maybe this is the new design for October success? Here's hoping the inane allusion I make a week from now won't be a geographically pertinent Twain quote about the Cardinals' demise being greatly exaggerated, but maybe something closer to Monty Python's not-dead-yet old man being clubbed in the head by the Mets. Regardless of the absurdities typed in this space, the Mets will have their hands full with Phat Albert and the gang in this seven-gamer.
The Mets that my peers and I have written about for six months aren't quite who we have poised to play the Cards right now. In addition to the trio of plan-altering injuries, Carlos Beltran is running at about 80% (which is about where he was last year, in case you don't remember what all the booing was about). Reyes and Wright were excited but cool under pressure during the season, but in the early-going of the NLDS, they looked like a couple of does in the high-beams. They cooled down eventually – to a degree, and let's hope that was as geeked-up as they'll get. The way things change from the long slog of the season to the blink-and-you're-gone immediacy of the postseason . . . well, the club managed to get past it somehow in round 1. Pulling together as a unit, that's how it's done.
I have 50+ more hours to pore over the match-ups of the next series, ones that seem to favor the Mets. It's a fairly futile exercise, though, since so much of the statistical advantage is inevitably rendered moot come the first pitch. It would far more rewarding to sit back right easy and laugh after walking over L.A., but since when does that ever happen?
Coming Into Los Angeles
NLDS – Game 2
This is, of course, what should be happening. All of the nervousness and anxiety I described below goes against the logic of a likely Game 2 result. The hitters did just enough hitting, Tom Glavine and his relief pitched brilliantly, and the Mets leave for the west coast with a comfortable 2-0 lead. Comfortable to a point, of course; let's not pretend that the apprehension has dissipated that much at this point.
Steve Trachsel was fairly well disparaged in this space well before he took leave for family reasons last week. Who knows how his frame of mind is faring now? I've given Trax grief as much for his annoyingly "deliberate" approach to his starts as I have for his intermittently second-rate performance. I don't have a wealth of confidence in the guy, but he's a veteran more than capable of a playoff-worthy performance. My only plea to him is "throw strikes." With Nomar injecting more steroid speculation into the rumor mill with yet another injury, and with the rest of the Dodger bats staying relatively mum, that torturous corner-picking may not be the best approach. We want seven innings and fewer than four walks out of Trachsel.
No letting up, dammit.
Listening to Grady Little's press conferences, I kind of can't believe he's a two-time playoff manager. The Texas drawl as a first impression doesn't exactly add IQ points, but he just sounds like he's several boilermakers in and making illegal left turns every time I hear him. He's not known for his in-game cunning, from what I read here a couple of autumns ago, and he doesn't exude confidence with his demeanor. What's the appeal? I guess I really don't want to find out over the weekend.
With the way the geniuses in the sports media seem to be getting everything wrong in these playoffs, I'm not at ease with the momentum switching back to the Mets' camp. Rob, can you give L.A. another shout-out just for good luck?
Nervous Guy
Whew. That took some doing, and I don't just mean the Mets' ordeal in the opening game of the postseason. It took quite an effort for me to see bits and pieces of the contest, then more effort not to hear or see the final score until I could watch the end myself . . . which I ended up not quite able to do.
I hunkered down at the Dubliner in Washington to catch the opening frames. My bartender extraordinaire and drinking buddy there joined me in observing one of the most bizarre plays on a baseball field I've seen, as a double off the right-field wall resulted in bang-bang tag-outs at home (within a couple of seconds of each other) of Jeff Kent from second base and J.D. Drew from first. The quiet, dark, Irish pub doesn't lend itself to vocal outbursts, but I couldn't help myself as I yelped upon watching Paul LoDuca make the two quick tags. The play saved the Mets from a big inning, and likely saved the game.
That said, the Dubliner was not feeling like the right venue to bring the Mets luck, and they remained down, 1-0, for several innings. Enter the Irish Times. (I did.) As soon as I made the miniscule trek to the second bar (it was right nextdoor), Carlos Delgado and Cliff Floyd took Derek Lowe deep for a pair of solo shots. When the Mets tacked on another pair of runs, it was obvious I'd found a fortuitous viewing locale, but softball called, so I made the sacrifice and left. I'm so altruistic like that.
Bad idea. In the car, I heard the game go to 4-4 and quickly turned off the radio. At that point I didn't want to hear any more until I could relax and catch the final few innings via Gheorghe blogmaster TJ's DVR. A challenge, of course, because folks at the park and in the sports bar afterwards wanted to discuss the game, naturally. Oh, and the 100 TV's felt the need to offer scores and highlights non-stop. Bastards.
I managed to make it through celebrating our softball win and drowning the sorrows of our loss with no knowledge of the Mets' final score, and the DVR indeed had recorded . . . most of the rest of the game. It cut off in the ninth inning with the Mets up, 6-4. Painful. I now know that it got hairier before the happy conclusion, and it's probably just as well that I didn't see it.
I spent a great deal of yesterday anxious, and it's not going away with the one win. When I was watching the Mets struggle in the early going, I had that white-knuckle, taut muscle ache that plagues us all in these moments. I've actually kind of missed this tension, and I welcome it a tad. The closest I'd come to it in recent years was when I signed on to support Rob and his Sox in '04, as I described in a post then. It's the greatest form of agony I know.
Maybe it shouldn't feel this way, but yesterday's win feels enormous. After an uncanny succession of calf tears not seen since Animal Farm, the Mets found themselves dropped from heavy favorites to major question marks. To rally, then rally again, then stave off the rally – well, that's a redundancy I'd love to see repeated throughout these playoffs. Game 2 offers a match-up (Glavine vs. Kuo) more in the Metropolitans' favor, but there can be no let-up. Show some patience at the plate, youngsters, and keep up the concentration in the field. (That means you, Mr. Valentin.) Keep doing what you've done all year, and more good results will find us.
Is it just me? Doesn't it seem like decades since the Mets were in the postseason? I guess once you sink to the depths, it makes you forget recent successes. Let's hope that this fall makes us forget those depths.
Derek Jeter had a massive game against the Tigers in Game 1 of the ALDS, going 5-for-5 with 2 singles, 2 doubles, and a homerun to pace the Yankees to an easy 8-4 win. Predictably, the sports media seized upon the moment to wax poetic about "The Captain" and his predilection for postseason heroics. And his calm, dreamy eyes. And his dirty uniform and spirited fist pumps. Can't forget the fist pumps. Let's let the Washington Post's Dave Sheinin elaborate:
"The Yankees have not won a World Series championship now in six years -- a
long, awful lifetime by the standards of this franchise. Jeter, the Yankee
captain, was 26 then. He is 32 now, and perhaps can better appreciate the finite
nature of an athletic career. He certainly played with a controlled urgency that
suggested it was so. His jersey was the dirtiest on the field. His fist-pumps
were the most emphatic."
I come here not to bury Derek Jeter – far from it. As much as it pains me to admit it, Jeter's a real, live legitimate stud. He's probably the American League's Most Valuable Player for 2006. As a fan of the Yankees' major rival, I state unequivocally that he scares me more than any other Yankee when he comes to the plate in crucial situations. Jeter doesn't suck, even if A-Rod might swallow.
Here's the thing, though. You'd think that the media who swoon for Jeter every year when the weather starts to turn could be convinced to do a modicum of research before the annual coronation. For all the legend-making, Jeter's postseason numbers are a fairly consistent mirror of his regular season marks – he doesn't "step it up a notch" in the clutch any more than anyone else does. Jeter's got a career OPS of .851 and a career postseason OPS of .864. He performs extremely well in ALCS competition, posting a 1.023 OPS in the penultimate series, but he actually underperforms his career norms in both the ALDS (a very average .744, even with Tuesday's explosion) and the World Series (.809 OPS).
As a point of fact, Jeter has the 4th best postseason OPS on the current Yankee roster, behind the much-maligned A-Rod (.923), HGH poster-boy Jason Giambi (.971), and Hideki Matsui (.908). Bernie Williams nearly matches Jeter with his .856 OPS and has outhomered his more-celebrated teammate (22 to 17) and driven in significantly more runs in a similar number of games (80 to 48).
The italics in the quote above are mine. Do you see at least a little bit why the non-Yankee portion of the baseball universe gets a mite tired of the hyperbole? For the record, I can understand why others might feel the same way about David Ortiz (except that his postseason numbers are even better than Jeter's, and he's way more fun to listen to. I digress.). Is it too much to ask the media to be creative, to avoid the easy way out for once?
Yeah, I already know the answer to that, too.
Since Rob publicly dedicated himself to the Metwagon, the Mets' starting rotation has lost its #1 and #3 pitchers to season-ending calf tears. Hmm.
Uh, dude . . . if you're carrying that wicked virus that decimated the Sox a couple of months ago . . . please hop off the wagon. Lickety split.
Oh, and here's a reason for Sox fans to root for the Mets -- now, if the Mets actually make some noise in the playoffs, I think we can safely say the transparent melodrama surrounding the Yankees' muddling through their bout with key injuries might fade away entirely. I'd like to think so.
Meeting Across the River
With the playoffs set to commence in a matter of minutes, it's time to take a look at the field of playoff teams, and while my cohort's club isn't one of the eight for the first time since MLC was conceived, I do hope he'll continue to weigh in throughout the postseason with commentary, asides and snides as play continues sans Sox of any color.
We've interwoven baseball and rock & roll for the entire season, so it's only so much of a stretch to perform the following analogous exercise. Recently I've heard Bruce Springsteen songs used as the backdrop of montages for both the Yankees and Mets; while I think even the casual Bruce/baseball fan would clearly throw the lovably dingy Boss into the Mets' camp rather than the white-collar Yanks' (no bias here, natch), there's more than enough Springsteen to go around. There's a far better discussion to initiate, as least in my increasingly surrealistic brain. Trying to rank the playoff teams and their chances for success is a bit like trying to rank Bruce Springsteen records – they're all good, but which stands out above the rest?
Let's dive in, shall we? (For our purposes, we'll stick to the first incarnation of Bruce and the E Streeters, before they busted up and he lost his musical way, only to be reborn to run some more. We'll ignore the fact that The Rising is one of the best albums of the past decade and one of the greatest comeback albums in music history.)
The first major release by "the future of rock and roll" came in 1973 in the form of Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ. This album was solid – more than solid, though not the complete open-to-close masterpiece of later releases. One thing that surely strikes the unfamiliar listener is the tunes that they've heard elsewhere. Manfred Mann's Earth Band had a huge hit with Bruce's "Blinded By the Light" and lesser hits with "For You" and "Spirit In the Night" (for this I admire the band's taste greatly and respect their creativity not at all). Greg Kihn also covered "For You" to some success; it's likely only die-hards who have tracked down Bowie's takes on "It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City" and "Growin' Up." In much th e same way, the Los Angeles Dodgers seem to be comprised of players you're more familiar with on another team – not just any other team, for free agency makes most of the ballclubs fit that description, but Rob's Red Sox. Nomar was the face of the Sox for so long, and Derek Lowe did so much to enable 2004 to end the way it did. Meanwhile, Rob's old favorite Grady Little is perched at the helm. (Hell, Aaron Sele is even on the roster.) In addition to the ex-Sox haven, the Dodgers are also a team of youth. The team is young – a little green, perhaps, but they may build into something special in years to come. The same could be said for Greetings; a very fine album on its own, how it paved the way for some of Bruce's classics is probably how it will be remembered.
Springste en followed up Greetings with The Wild, The Innocent, & The E Street Shuffle, a more meandering collection of epic tracks. Even as we acknowledge that there are no duds in these eight great albums, very few folks outside the most impassioned would target Shuffle as their tops. Even as we acknowledge that there are eight mighty good baseball teams in the playoffs, very few folks outside of St. Louis are favoring the Cardinals this October. Even as we acknowledge that it's arguable that the single greatest song/player in the library/league resides here (Albert "Rosalita" Pujols), that's not enough to sway the conventional wisdom that this selection won't be top dog at the end of the matter. Don't get me wrong; leadoff dazzlers "The E Street Shuffle" and David Eckstein entertain me to no end. Don't misunderstand – some of the more rabid fans on the planet cherish this record/club. But this is a fair assessment by any standards.
And then, in 1975, came true virtuosity . . . Born to Run. Appreci ated by enthusiasts of the genre, not just the die-hards, it's clearly among the finest around. Bruce's characters evolved from the Shore's Bohemian dirtbags into New Romantic heroes of the Tri-State area. The growing talent in Springsteen exploded to much fanfare (so said Time & Newsweek), very much in the same way the New York Mets have burst onto the scene as the pre-eminent contenders of the NL. Are the Mets an all-timer like Born to Run? Doesn't seem likely at this point, but great teams aren't crowned before the Fall Classic, anyway, so let's wait on that judgment. Born to Run isn't a perfect alb um by outside criteria – at eight songs and 39 minutes long, it could be deemed on the short side. The Mets have their shortcomings too, with a rotation and bench looking thin. Born to Run is certainly bombastic, with a tad of "Wall of Sound" style production and theatrics, just as the cheesy omni-coverage of the "The Team. The Time" Mets has been. But it's also full of heart, and that's an element artists and producers, players and managers all try to create – yet it's less of a creation and more about things magically falling into place. I'm comfortable enough with the team Omar Minaya has assembled to throw the Born to Run link out there. Let's see if the Mets will provide the runaway American dream for us New Romantic dirtbags in the Township.
An al bum that often gets lost in the mix is 1978's Darkness on the Edge of Town. Springsteen's legal battles with his label meant a three-year wait for the masses, and it only reinforced the notion of a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately public. Dedicated readers of Backstreets magazine and the like hailed the release of Darkness, but there was none of the same widespread reverence as with its predecessor. Not for a lack of brilliance, mind you. From Max Weinberg's "Ba dlands"-opening drum pounds to Danny Federici's final organ notes on the title track, it's vintage Bruce and should be reckoned with. The Oakland Athletics are a similarly overlooked force in the American League. They seem to get little of their opponents' press, yet they cruised through their division without the usual late-season challenges this year. Their rotation looks increasingly solid, and there's a cohesion among the lesser-knowns that's missing in other clubhouses, from Huston "Racing in the" Street to Adam "Raised a Cain" Melhuse to Nick "Candy's Room" Swisher. (Okay, so they don't all work.) The A's are no slouches. You give me Barry Zito, Frank Thomas, "Prove It All Night," and two bottles of Wild Irish Rose, and I'll take my chances most any night.
The Min nesota Twins and the double-album The River are linked by more than a motif of duality; they are both thoroughly complete, filled with talent, and easy to get behind. Both have stars of some acclai m: Joe "Hungry Heart" Mauer, Torii "Cadillac Ranch" Hunter, Justin "The River" Morneau, and of course, Johan "You Can Look But You'd Better Not Touch" Santana. The Twinkies complement respected veterans with rookie talent (Radke & Bonser), while The River abuts bleak solemnity with theretofore unseen optimism ("Point Blank" & "I Wanna Marry You"). They each have killer closers in Joe Nathan and "Wreck on the Highway." Both are undeniably strong entries in either rankings; there's every chance that they won't hold up with the more highly touted submissions here, but you're hard-pressed to see exactly why.
An d then you get to Nebraska, which brings as much hoop-la in this progression as it does on an itinerary. This record is enigmatic; the stripped-down, E Street-less Bruce sports a popularity directly proportional to the musical snobbery of its judge. The general public dismissed the guitar-and-harmonica affair lightly, while many a purist credits it as his or her favorite. It's certainly in vogue to say you favor Nebraska, and I kind of feel that way about picking the Padres this year. It seems like a lot of folks in and out of the media who like the Pad Squad haven't actually watched much Padre ball this year, which included some true moments of suck. (The next person who swoons over Jake Peavy is going to have to explain his 11-14, 4.09 year to me in terms better than "H e was better than that in August and September.") Granted, none of that matters now, as whoever gets hottest in October wins, but in the – far from expert, but better than oblivious – glance I got at San Diego through Extra Innings this year, I believe they're only pretty good, with a couple of stand-outs. Peavy can be great at times, but how Brian Giles, Woody Williams, and Trevor Hoffman fare could better dictate how far the team goes. Meanwhile, "Atlantic City" and "Johnny 99" make my best-of compilation every time. Beyond this collection of players and tunes, however, I see good, not great. That's just one man's opinion, of course, and I always like to be the kid to yell "Naked emperor!" when I smell groupthink, perhaps to my own detriment. But it's my post, and I'm not elevating these entries to the top.
Back in 1984, if you had a radio, you heard Born in the U.S.A. Boy, did you hear it, again and again and again, well beyond the unenforced limits of overplay. Even I grew sick of the record, despite its obvious merit. There is a bevy of people that to this day would claim to hate the album – and some who can't stand Springsteen – because of the reckless spinning of some unadventurous DJ's of the mid-eighties. Bruce became an international superstar, much to the dismay of his legion of faithful fans.
Fast-forward a decade, when the New York Yankees began to evolve into the ubiquitous blitzkrieg of ball-mashing and overspending that they are today. They have made fans around the globe; at the same time, they have made fans of baseball loathe the current system even more than BITUSA turned music fans off Bruce. Though the mere mention of the team or the album may dredge negative connotations within you, however, you cannot deny the incredible assemblage of superior performances on each. Jeter is the title track, the central symbol of the team/album and when watched or heard, impossible not to admire. ARod is "Dancing in the Dark," the former worldwide smash with dazzling appeal that has lost all luster of late and now stands out like a sore thumb.
Damon, Sheffield, Matsui, Posada. "Glory Days," "I'm On Fire," "No Surren der," "Cover Me." Mussina, Unit, Rivera. "I'm Going Down," "Working on the Highway," "Bobby Jean." All great. Even the unsung ones like Cano or Wang? If you haven't lately, listen to "Downbound Train," then "Darlington County." Unbelievably good songs, never played. This team and this rock and roll album are solid beyond all comprehension, and yet they annoy the hell out of a good many people. Bruce moved to L.A., distanced himself from the band, married a Barbie doll, and got soft, even . . . dare I say . . . mediocre for a time after this album. There is plenty of reason to be irritated at what this record symbolized for the purest of fans. As for the Yankees – you don't need me to spell it out for you why any baseball fan with a soul detests what the Bombers of today represent in the game. We appreciate the performances, to be sure, but we cannot get behind what it means in the long run. Fair enough.
Finall y, the end of the E Street Band's run came with Tunnel of Love in 1987. The full band had little to do with the record, and it was disappointing but not surprising to learn that Bruce would be touring without them afterwards. "Brilliant Disguise," the first single from the album, gave fans a big reason to expect good things from Tunnel, but it quickly went downhill with the synthy title trac k. It was going to be difficult to generate widespread support in the album in BITUSA's wake, and some argued that it never stood a chance. So go the '06 Detroit Tigers. We'd have loved for them to be the dominant Tigers of two decades prior, but at this stage of the game, it's not happening. There are bright spots – the rotation is sharp, while Pudge, Magglio, and Casey still possess some of their league-topping skills of a few years back, just as "One Step Up" and "Tougher than the Rest" manage to shine on ToL. That said, I've not yet met the man who objectively picks the Tigers to win in 2006 or chooses Tunnel of Love as the best Springsteen album.
So there you go. It seems pretty clear that my relative fondness for Springsteen albums mirrors my feelings on the 2006 playoff picture. How would it play out if seeded as the playoffs are?
ALDS:
Born In the USA over Tunnel of Love, 3-0
The River over Darkness on the Edge of Town, 3-2
NLDS:
Born to Run over Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ, 3-2
The Wild, the Innocent, & the E Street Shuffle over Nebraska, 3-2
ALCS:
The River over Born in the USA, 4-3
NLCS:
Born to Run over The Wild, the Innocent, & the E Street Shuffle, 4-2
World Series:
The River over Born to Run, 4-3
Hey, I'd love to pick the Mets, but The River is that good. Check it out.
"40"
Games 159 through 162 – Red Sox
Red Sox 4, Orioles 3
Orioles 5, Red Sox 4
Final Record: 86-76, 3rd place, AL East
If 2005 was cast in the warm, gauzy afterglow of the epic 2004 season, 2006 found the the Nation groggily waking up next to a moderately cute, but wildly overpriced hooker with creaky joints and worse teeth and spending the better part of 8 months trying to figure out how to get her to leave.
The Sox' final game was a fittingly unsatisfying cap to an enormously unsatisfying season. Devern Hansack pitched a no-hitter against the already-on-the-golf-course Orioles, which is pretty cool, save for the fact that a Biblical rainstorm halted the game after 5 innings. Not for nothing, but the mere happenstance that Devern Hansack took the hill for the Sox in an October contest pretty well encapsulates the donkey punch that was 2006.
At the risk of trudging once again over much-traveled territory, the Sox were undone in 2006 by the twin travails of extremely ill-timed, inordinately extensive injuries and related underperformance by key personnel. On August 4, a scant 60 days (or so) ago, the Sox stood at 65-43, their patchwork pitching staff still hanging in, and the impacts of losing Trot Nixon and Jason Varitek yet unfelt. Over the next 5 days, they dropped 5 consecutive games to the Devil Rays and Royals, and the bottom just kept falling out, not stopping until the Bostons skidded to a 21-33 mark over the season's final third. By August 12, I was reduced to arguing with myself and Whitney over my mental status, and by August 23, I was scouring retrosheet.org for classic contests – anything to take my mind from the gruesome train wreck the Sox' season had become.
From contenders to roadkill in less than 3 weeks. How did this team fail? Let us count the ways, falling back once again on the musical theme that's made this season moderately bearable:
Play Deep – the Outfield's 80s classic fits the Sox' twin bullpen terrors, Julian Tavarez and Rudy Seanez perfectly, as they yielded rocket after rocket to opposing batters when not walking them at inconvenient times. The 2 veterans were counted on to stabilize the back of the Boston pen, and coming off strong 2005 campaigns, looked like solid offseason pickups by the Sox front office. It was bad enough that Tavarez' 3.43 ERA, 2.6/1 K/BB, and 1.32 WHIP turned into 4.47, 1.27/1, and 1.56, but when Seanez followed suit, going from 2.69, 3.8/1, and 1.18 to 4.82, 1.84/1, and 1.65, the wheels catapulted off the Sox bullpen, leading directly to…
…Sweet and Tender Hooligan in the forms of Craig Hansen and Manny Delcarmen, both talented but probably thismuch too green to be learning their craft in the midst of the Boston maelstrom. Hansen, still only 17 month removed from his college graduation, showed flashes of extreme promise in the season's early stages, but as Tavarez and Seanez proved unworthy, the young righty was thrust into situations for which he was clearly unprepared. On July 26, Hansen's ERA stood at 4.12, courtesy of scoreless outings in 5 of his previous 6 appearances. From that point on, as the load and expectations increased, he posted a 9.34 ERA in 20 games, earning a demotion to Pawtucket and leaving the Sox' bully in an even bigger predicament. Delcarmen was generally more consistent than his youthful compadre, but posted an 11.25 ERA in September as the Sox watched their hopes slip completely away.
The hope here is that both pitchers use 2006 as a learning experience – the fear is that their confidence will be irreparably damaged, because the Sox had no choice but to let them learn on the job. Tavarez and Seanez strike again.
High Hopes could probably describe the outlook for the entire franchise entering the season, but Josh Beckett was the most obvious personification of that sentiment. The former World Series MVP arrived with a Yankee-killer rep, a wicked curveball, and a sick heater. We close the door on the season with Beckett trailing a string of gopher balls, a hardhead label, and a plus-5.00 ERA in his wake. Ebby Calvin posted 7 outings with 7 or more earned runs, which is both a testament to his extreme inconsistency and Terry Francona's complete lack of trust in all members of the bullpen not named Papelbon. The good news – Beckett's only 26 and he gave the Sox 204 innings with no health issues, which is so very much more than I can say about…
…Matt Clement, David Wells, and Tim Wakefield, Three the Hard Way. Clement, Wells, and Wakefield, three-fifths of the prospective rotation as the Sox broke camp in April, combined to pitch 252 innings in Boston uniforms after averaging 578 innings as a group over the last 4+ years. Jon Lester took up part of that 326-inning slack, giving the Sox 81 innings of mostly effective, always competitive effort. The remaining 265 innings went to the likes of Royals castoff Kyle Snyder, Indians reject Jason Johnson, AA callups David Pauley and Kason Gabbard, never-was Kevin Jarvis, afterthought Lenny DiNardo, and the aforementioned Devern Hansack. Almost makes you wonder how many innings Bronson Arroyo threw for Cincinnati this season. Oh, 240. Interesting.
Ahhh, almost went there, down that easy blamecasting path, scapegoating Theo and the front office for trading Arroyo for Wily Mo Pena. Hindsight being what it is, and memories what they are, many in the Nation lay the blame for the pitching woes on the General Manager. Those same people forget that the Sox had a wealth of starting pitching before the season began, even with Wells fighting knee problems in Spring Training. At the time of the deal, as the Sox traded an average AL starter who got killed by lefties for a promising, if raw, 4th outfielder, most of the Nation was pleased as punch. It was only after Arroyo tore through the mediocre NL to post career-best numbers and the Sox staff went down like so many dominos that the recriminations began.
The other easy front office target was the inability/unwillingness to make a deadline deal for a starter. Easy target, with the brickbats again poorly aimed. No significant starting pitcher changed teams at the trade deadline this season, and the ones that were rumored to be available would have cost the Sox dearly over the next several campaigns. The front office was no doubt acutely aware of the breakout successes posted by Freddy Sanchez in Pittsburgh (sent away for Scott Sauerbeck and Jeff Suppan in 2003) and Hanley Ramirez and Anibal Sanchez down Florida way (gone in exchange for Beckett and Mike Lowell). Their reluctance to deal for short-term salvation showed marked restraint, and some level of prescience – as no single deal would have likely been able to salve the Sox' many wounds in August and September.
Theo may have made some mistakes this season (see Tavarez, Julian and Seanez, Rudy, for example), but he gets a pass on this one. Wily Mo Pena had a .838 OPS this season while adjusting to a new league and getting limited playing time, and he's still only 24 years old (I'm beginning to sense a theme). Arroyo could've pitched 400 innings for the Sox this season, and it wouldn't have been enough. And his arm would've fallen off.
One final note on the rotation – in a season with a lot of low points, Jon Lester's cancer diagnosis may qualify as the very lowest. This is a goofball blog with a seriously unserious mien, so I may be out of place with this, but I'm rooting for that kid as much as I've ever rooted for any player, Sox or otherwise.
Hi, We're the Replacements - From the real world to that of cartoon characters, Coco Crisp just never got off the ground in Boston, and we're just finding out now how much his finger injury impacted him. Crisp was asked to carry a massive burden, replacing Johnny Damon not only in the lineup and centerfield, but also filling the mythical gap left by Johnny Jesus in the hearts and minds of a once-adoring Nation. Even if fully healthy, his task was immense. As it is, Crisp's .702 OPS marks a significant dropoff from his previous 2 seasons, and the fits and starts in his season made it tough for Coco to win over the Fenway Faithful. I'm willing to wait and see on Coco, as he showed some flashes of what might be if he can come back healthy in 2007.
Breaking out a little T'Pau now, just 'cause I know you like it, deep down in places you don't talk about at sports bars. The Sox were in the thick of it right up until the Heart and Soul went down. Though Jason Varitek had a mediocre season, with his .725 OPS by far his weakest production since 2002 (last time the Sox missed the playoffs – coincidence, I think not), the Sox offense was holding its own until he went out. His departure required the Sox to use Ken Huckaby, Corky Miller, and Javy Lopez' rotting corpse behind the plate, costing the Sox runs on offense and defense.
While I absolved the front office of much of the blame for the pitching woes, 2006 wasn't Theo's finest hour. As it turns out, the first-half's most entertaining transaction may well have been the team's worst. After Josh Bard gave up 10 passed balls in 5 starts "catching" Wakefield, the Sox sent him and Cla Meredith away to bring Doug Mirabelli back from San Diego to much fanfare, and a Boston PD escort from Logan to Fenway. Mirabelli proceeded to suck on ice, posting a .602 OPS – and Wakefield got hurt, completely negating 'Belli's value. The fact that Bard went to San Diego and put up a .943 OPS in a pitchers park stings, but the Cherry Bomb on top of this shit sundae was Cla Meredith's performance. The sidewinder posted a 1.07 ERA in 50 innings as a critical component of the NL West champion Padres bullpen and was absolute murder on right-handed batters, holding them to a .300 (!) OPS. Meredith looked lost in his short stint in the bigs last season, but it sure seems that the vaunted player evaluation machine in Boston whiffed this one.
It wasn't all plague and pestilence in the Nation, it just seems that way because of the way the season just petered out. The Sox' very own Supernova, David Ortiz was once again a transcendent force, setting an all-time franchise mark with 54 homers and almost single-handedly keeping the Sox in the race in June and July when his walk-off fireworks went plaid, they were so beyond the pale. Papi put up a 1.049 OPS, and led the AL in both HR and RBI, but even he was not immune to the bizarre rash of ailments, leaving the team for a week with mysterious heart pains. It was almost as if, like the mythical John Henry (the railroad man, not the owner – but try that mental comparison on for size), his heart gave out from the strain of carrying his teammates.
Ortiz' Dominican pal, Manny Ramirez and his band of media naysayers have perfected the art of turning a Whisper to a Scream. Raise your hand if you knew that Manny had a higher OPS than Papi. Now put your hand down if you're a SoSH member. Now, punch yourself in the neck if you're Dan Shaughnessy or one of the other spineless assmunches in the Boston media trying to run the best right-handed hitter in the American League out of town. All Manny did, once again, was hit 30+ homers, drive in over 100 runs, and post a 1.058 OPS. And if you believe the conventional wisdom, he's played his last game in a Red Sox uniform. That's a pisser.
Jonathan Papelbon took the hill in a Blaze of Glory in the season's first week, and kept firing heat all the way through one of the league's most dominant individual performances. Papelbon's 4-2, 0.90, 35 save season was probably the only sustained bright spot on the pitching side of the ledger, and even he fell victim to the Mildly Irritable Reaper, shutting down for the season's final month with a tired arm. Damn right it's tired – it carried the whole freaking team for 4 months.
Working for a Living fairly well describes the efforts of most of the rest of the roster in 2006. Mike Lowell was surprisingly good, with an .814 OPS and 47 doubles to go with Gold Glove-caliber defense. Kevin Youkilis proved to be a better-than-average leadoff guy, posting a .391 OBP – he'll need to add some power if the Sox want to keep him at first next year. Curt Schilling turned in another workmanlike year, recording 15 wins to go with his 3.97 ERA. Alex Gonzalez is probably the best fielder ever to grace the shortstop position in a Sox uniform – which is a good thing, because he ain't winning any prizes for his .698 OPS. Mark Loretta didn't hit for a lick of power, but he was consistent during a season that mostly went without. Alex Cora was a consummate backup, and Gabe Kapler…well, he looked pretty good in the uniform. Trot Nixon was another of the walking wounded, recording an altogether mediocre 8 HR and 52 RBI. Mike Timlin channeled the Prodigy in the season's latter stages (and not in a good way), teaching his bullpen mates the chord progressions to Firestarter.
It's an odd feeling watching the playoffs start without the Sox involved. In some small ways, I'm looking forward to just enjoying baseball, but those ways are really tiny in comparison to how much I'll miss the pit-of-the-stomach anxiety of a close, late playoff game that matters to me. Somehow, rooting against the Yankees doesn't provide the same juice.
Looks like we'll be saying goodbye to some old friends in the offseason, as it's likely Trot Nixon and Mike Timlin won't be back in 2007. Manny Ramirez and Doug Mirabelli may well join them, as should Gabe Kapler. It's the nature of the beast, I suppose. The following quote from A. Bartlett Giamatti is part of Red Sox broadcaster Joe Castiglione's season sign-off. This is the first time in several years that I've felt it deeply – over the last 3 seasons, the exhilaration has taken longer to wear off.
"The Green Fields of the Mind"
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time,
to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days
are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. Today, October 2, a Sunday of
rain and broken branches and leaf-clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped,
and summer was gone.
Games 161 & 162 – Mets
Mets 13, Nationals 0
Final Regular Season Record: 97-65, 1st place in NL East by 12 games
So ends the 2006 regular season, with the Mets sweeping the Nationals at RFK. Off go the easy, breezy three-gamers against paltry league foes; on comes a potentially arduous three-gamer against the Los Angeles Dodgers. Bring it.
It's funny how sports media personnel (outside the home market) seem to get the story about a week late. A week or two ago, everyone was icing the Mets' cakewalk to the World Series, patting the Mets on the back whilst slagging the remains of the Senior Circuit. Of course, while the papers were praising our lads, the Metmen were spending their garbage time smelling no better than the refuse they'd tossed around for five months. We fans were on edge, inexplicably to the peripheral people.
Now, of course, I am reading a stream of articles on the New York Mets' sudden fallibility. (Losing your ace will do that, but it's gone well beyond overstating Pedro's void.) Right as the Mets were winning the last four games of their long-locked-up season in dominating fashion, every two-bit sportswriting genius penned a eureka-reeking column on the Met woes. Now, at long last, folks are seeing that the man behind the curtain is actually Steve Trachsel, and that's more frightening that a pack of flying monkeys to those of us in the 'ship.
Except that by now, the Mets seem to have steadied themselves, readied themselves, and poised themselves for a true title run. They managed to resolve some lingering questions – maybe not with ideal answers, but with definitive answers nonetheless. There should be little doubt about who's going to battle in the royal blue and blaze orange. (Were this a real battle, of course, wearing such colors into combat would be tactical hari-kari, but this is baseball, not guerilla warfare.) The offense began to flex those muscles again for the first time in a while, and unlike some of their peers in the playoffs (the 7-in-a-row-winning Trolley Dodgers excluded), the Mets have a little momentum rolling into the postseason.
Game 1 is Wednesday at 4:00 PM. I'll be finishing up a day's work in the nation's capital as quickly as possible so as to catch the opening pitch (figuratively speaking). Anyone in the DC area looking to share bar space with a frenetic freak of a Mets fan should give me a shout.
Of Note: Game 5 of this series, if necessary, will be at Shea on Monday the 9th. My brother-in-law Patrick got us tickets, and though I will have to defy tremendous odds to be there, I'm planning on it somehow. Anyone wanting to watch my children to help me out should give me a shout. (Please, Mets, just win in 3 and let me go to the NLCS.)
Tomorrow I'll take a closer look at the Dodgers, the match-up, and why Rob Russell is going to have difficulty living up to his promise to root on the Metropolitans when they square off against L.A.
For now, it's time for us to bear down and prepare for the next phase, just as the team does. It's been a ton of fun to sit through the regular season. It really has, but that's over now. Cakewalk be damned, there will be no gimmes from here on out. Supreme confidence and total anxiety are currently sumo wrestling in my belly, and I think only a malt beverage rain-out will clear the mat.
Cheers, mates.
Jumping in where I don't belong to send a quick shout-out to the Detroit Tigers for gift-wrapping a trip to the ALCS for the Yankees. The Motor City Kitties needed 1 win in their last 5 games to clinch the AL Central and send the Twins to the Bronx. Instead, they gacked 5 straight, including s season-ending sweep at the hands of the Royals (the Sox have some experience with that particular art form).
As a result, Detroit heads to New York to face the Yankees, where they'll be summarily dispatched as the Bombers tune up for their inevitable romp through the postseason. It'll be nice for the denizens of Yankee Nation to finally be able to begin the post-2004 healing process. Begin, but not nearly complete. And if you don't think I'll use some variation of that line everytime I get grief from a pinstripe-wearing mouth-breather, you've got another think coming. It came to me out of the clear blue sky at today's Nationals/Mets game, when some jerkoff in a Yankee t-shirt cracked wise at me (wearing my Sox cap). His stammered non-response almost made this circle-jerk of a season worth it. Almost.


text:
Q: Exposing C++ interface in boost python Sample code to illustrate:
struct Base
{
  virtual int foo() = 0;
};

struct Derived : public Base
{
  virtual int foo()
  {
    return 42;
  }
};

Base* get_base()
{
  return new Derived;
}

BOOST_PYTHON_MODULE(libTestMod)
{
  py::class_<Base>("Base", py::no_init)
    .def("foo", py::pure_virtual(&Base::foo));

  py::def("get_base", get_base, py::return_internal_reference<>()); //ignore mem leak
}

*

*Base::foo will not be overridden in python

*Base:foo will be implemented in c++ but that should not be exposed to python

Tried the above code but fails to compile.
update:
Compilation Error:
/path/to/boostlib/boost/1.53.0-0/common/include/boost/python/object/value_holder.hpp:66:11: error: cannot declare field 'boost_1_53_0::python::objects::value_holder<Base>::m_held' to be of abstract type 'Base'
Main.C:59:8: note:   because the following virtual functions are pure within 'Base':
Main.C:61:15: note:         virtual int Base::foo()

A: Abstract classes actually CAN be exposed to Boost.Python without wrappers.
The trick is defining your class with boost::noncopyable and avoiding pure_virtual method wrappers.
Here is the corrected code (tested with Boost.Python 1.47.0 and Python 2.7.6):
#include <boost/python/class.hpp>
#include <boost/python/def.hpp>
#include <boost/python/module.hpp>

struct Base
{
  virtual int foo() = 0;
};

struct Derived : public Base
{
  virtual int foo()
  {
    return 42;
  }
};

Base* get_base()
{
  return new Derived;
}

BOOST_PYTHON_MODULE(libTestMod)
{
    namespace py = boost::python;

    py::class_<Base, boost::noncopyable>("Base", py::no_init)
        .def("foo", &Base::foo);

    py::def("get_base", get_base,
        py::return_value_policy<py::reference_existing_object>()); //ignore mem leak
}

Testing:
$ python
Python 2.7.6 (default, Mar 31 2014, 16:04:58)
[GCC 4.7.3] on linux2
Type "help", "copyright", "credits" or "license" for more information.
>>> import libTestMod
>>> base = libTestMod.get_base()
>>> print base.foo()
42

A: Abstract C++ classes cannot be exposed in this manner to Boost.Python.  The Boost.Python tutorial gives examples as to how to expose pure virtual functions.  In short, when decorating methods with boost::python::pure_virtual, a wrapper type needs to be created to allow C++ to polymorphic resolve the virtual function, and the virtual function implementation will delegate resolving the function polymorphically in the Python object's hierarchy.
struct BaseWrap : Base, boost::python::wrapper<Base>
{
  int foo()
  {
    return this->get_override("foo")();
  }
};

...

boost::python::class_<BaseWrap>("Base", ...)
  .def("foo", boost::python::pure_virtual(&Base::foo))
  ;

For details, when a type is exposed via boost::python::class_, HeldType defaults to the type being exposed, and the HeldType is constructed within a Python object.  The class_ documentation states:

Template Parameter:

*

*T: The class being wrapped

*HeldType: Specifies the type that is actually embedded in a Python object wrapping a T instance [...].  Defaults to T.

Hence, the boost::python::class_<Base> will fail, because T = Base and HeldType = Base, and Boost.Python will try to instantiate an object of HeldType into a Python object that represents an instance of Base.  This instantiation will fail as Base is an abstract class.

Here is a complete example showing the use of a BaseWrap class.
#include <boost/python.hpp>

struct Base
{
  virtual int foo() = 0;
  virtual ~Base() {}
};

struct Derived : public Base
{
  virtual int foo()
  {
    return 42;
  }
};

Base* get_base()
{
  return new Derived;
}

namespace python = boost::python;

/// @brief Wrapper that will provide a non-abstract type for Base.
struct BaseWrap : Base, python::wrapper<Base>
{
  BaseWrap() {}

  BaseWrap(const Base& rhs)
    : Base(rhs)
  {}

  int foo()
  {
    return this->get_override("foo")();
  }
};

BOOST_PYTHON_MODULE(example)
{
  python::class_<BaseWrap>("Base")
    .def("foo", python::pure_virtual(&Base::foo));
    ;

  python::def("get_base", &get_base,
              python::return_value_policy<python::manage_new_object>());
}

and its usage:
>>> import example
>>> class Spam(example.Base):
...     pass
...
>>> Spam().foo()
Traceback (most recent call last):
  File "<stdin>", line 1, in <module>
RuntimeError: Pure virtual function called
>>> class Egg(example.Base):
...     def foo(self):
...         return 100
...
>>> e = Egg()
>>> e.foo()
100
>>> d = example.get_base()
>>> d.foo()
42

It is possible to expose an abstract class in Boost.Python by exposing it with no default initializer (boost::python::no_init) and non-copyable (boost::noncopyable).  The lack of an initializer prevents Python types from deriving from it effectively preventing overriding.  Additionally, the implementation detail that Base::foo() is implemented within C++ by Derived is inconsequential.  If Python should not know about a foo() method at all, then omit exposing it via def().
#include <boost/python.hpp>

struct Base
{
  virtual int foo() = 0;
  virtual ~Base() {}
};

struct Derived
  : public Base
{
  virtual int foo()
  {
    return 42;
  }
};

struct OtherDerived
  : public Base
{
  virtual int foo()
  {
    return 24;
  }
};

Base* get_base()
{
  return new Derived;
}

Base* get_other_base()
{
  return new OtherDerived;
}

BOOST_PYTHON_MODULE(example)
{
  namespace python = boost::python;
  python::class_<Base, boost::noncopyable>("Base", python::no_init)
    ;

  python::class_<Derived, python::bases<Base> >("Derived", python::no_init)
    .def("foo", &Base::foo)
    ;

  python::class_<OtherDerived, python::bases<Base> >(
      "OtherDerived", python::no_init)
    ;

  python::def("get_base", &get_base,
              python::return_value_policy<python::manage_new_object>());

  python::def("get_other_base", &get_other_base,
              python::return_value_policy<python::manage_new_object>());
}

Interactive usage:
>>> import example
>>> b = example.get_base()
>>> b.foo()
42
>>> b = example.get_other_base()
>>> b.foo()
Traceback (most recent call last):
  File "<stdin>", line 1, in <module>
AttributeError: 'OtherDerived' object has no attribute 'foo'

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Q: Panel with autoscroll, and inner panel that is large. Resizes huge. C# I have a Panel where I am editing some boxes in that is 4000 x 4000 in size.
I put it in a Panel with scroll bars set to auto.
If I make the outer panel not resizable then I get the scroll bars fine.
If I make the out panel resizable so I can resize the window and have it grow and shrink, then the outer panel grows to 4k x 4k and the window is huge and won't let me resize the window.
How does one make a large canvas scrollable in a outer scroll panel such that the outer panel resizes to take up extra space but does not make the outer window resize huge?


Syntec Optics develops, manufactures, and assembles custom precision polymer optical solutions for defense & security, medical, and virtual reality applications. Syntec Optics offers plastic optics, polymer optics, molded optics, diamond turning, optical assembly, optical coating, opto-mechanical design, illumination design, optical tooling and glass molding. Syntec Optics has become North America's largest polymer optics assembly and opto-mechanical component provider.


text:
Last Updated: September 11, 2020, 5:22 pm
DSU volleyball taking unknowns in stride with Division I jump
By: Brock Doman
Megan Treanor, a senior communication studies major from Salem, and Jordyn Nelson, a senior medical laboratory science major from Phoenix, are beginning their final seasons as trailblazers with uncertainty. Photo by Emily Wight.
In a year filled with uncertainty, Dixie State University volleyball is taking it in stride as it prepares for a new division, conference and even stadium to play in.
The jump to Division I has been big for the Trailblazers as they look to add more in-state games they were eager to compete against.
"We were scheduled to play SUU, Weber and Utah State, so we had some in-state rivals we were looking forward to," head coach Robyn Felder said. "We are waiting to see what the NCAA will let us do, and then we are going to get after it."
The upcoming collegiate volleyball season across the nation is still experiencing unknowns, but this hasn't stopped the Trailblazers from prepping for its first DI game.
Sydney Johnson, a senior business administration major from Spokane, Washington, said, "We don't want to just creep into the WAC, we want to come in, play a full season and establish our university and team in the conference."
Along with the change from DII to DI, the volleyball program now has different scholarship regulations as well.
Latest in Sports:
Sports impacted by number of fans in stands
DSU women's basketball season canceled over concerns for student athletes' health
DSU men's basketball looking forward to WAC competition
"As a DII [program] we could scholarship as many kids as we want." Felder said. "Everything can be partial…I could give one kid half [scholarship], housing [paid for], where at the DI level if I give one player a dollar it counts as a full ride, and I only get 12 [scholarships]."
This could potentially affect the Trailblazers and the way they recruit. Previously almost all players on the roster could have areas of their college paid for, where now they are only permitted 12. The jump to DI also affects recruiting because players have dreamed of playing DI ball their whole playing career.
The jump for the DSU volleyball team has been an unforgettable one.
"I'm just excited to finally be DI," said Megan Treanor, a senior communication studies major from Salem. "As of now, we are supposed to have a preseason and tournaments before our WAC games begin."
The NCAA has yet to announce any further action regarding scheduling for the spring season, which has left the Trailblazers with a handful of unknowns.
"It's frustrating because we have no control over it, and neither do our coaches," Treanor said. "It was hard just waiting week by week to see if we were even going to have a season."
Once the NCAA announced that the season will be played in the spring of 2021, there weren't many other details to follow.
"We don't want to just creep into the WAC, we want to come in, play a full season and establish our university and team in the conference."
Sydney Johnson, a senior business administration major
"They haven't set the parameters of how long our season is going to be, or if they are going to give us a pre season," Felder said.
The Trailblazers do, however, know one for sure change, and that is their games will now be held in the M. Anthony Burns Arena, which has a capacity of 5,000.
"The Burns [arena] is bigger, it feels different, the ceilings are high, you've got the jumbotrons, it just feels like a bigger setting, and that's going to be huge for us," Felder said.
The Trailblazers had games scheduled against well known Division I colleges including the University of Gonzaga, located in Spokane, Washington. This game was going to mean a lot to the Tailblazers, but particularly for Johnson because she is from Spokane.
"I went home last spring once classes went online, and I played sand volleyball against some of the girls that play there [Gonzaga]," Johnson said.
The outside hitter for the Trailblazer recorded 54 kills with 10 aces last season.
"Even though it would have been nice to play in the fall, more than anything we want a full season," Johnson said. "If that means we don't play in the fall, but we play in the spring so we can play more games, that's where we stand."
For now, DSU is pushing themsevles and trying to focus on areas they can control, opposed to worrying about outside factors.
"As a team, something we wanted to focus on this fall was being mentally tough, we are there physically and have the capability to compete physically with these DI players who have physical talent, but I think mentally is where we want to really get there," Treanor said. "The games are going to be tougher, the crowds are going to be meaner, things are going to be different, and the level is going to be a lot higher."

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Penn State Events
Penn State Music
Penn State Non-Music News
Mainstream Music
Outsource Interviews
Matt Fell: Catch Him If You Can
Olivia Price
Music, Penn State News Reviews and Interviews
Comments Off on Matt Fell: Catch Him If You Can
Following the modest success of his pop/hip-hop duo, Heyyo, Matthew Fell (junior telecommunications major, music tech minor) has recently debuted three songs from a promising self-entitled solo project. Earlier in the month, the local artist prescribed us all a taste of two originals: "Best Thing So Far" (folk-pop) and "Walking These Streets" (electronic indie-pop.) However, what sets his latest release, "Catch Me If You Can," apart from the rest is the degree to which it showcases the very thing that drove Heyyo to obtain its immediate 50,000+ plays: Fell's catchy vocal riffs and amazing production skills.
In a brief interview, Matt expressed that "Catch Me If You Can" was written to both lyrically and melodically convey the breaking of routine to achieve a goal on your own terms. Perhaps a commentary on society at large, the lyrics illustrate the well-known discouragement that derives from falling into a seemingly generic way of life. Especially at our age, it's so easy to just follow the path that has been placed before us, even if we know it's not the one that will truly make us happy. Matt Fell inspires us in the chorus to reject what society tells us should make us happy and pursue the thing that could fulfill our own, unique lives. He exceeds at proclaiming his admirable message sonically by experimenting with his songwriting, showing the world that he really is stepping outside of his comfort zone.
I'm an advocate of pursuing your dreams, I'm an advocate of going against the grain, and I'm an advocate of Matt Fell and the talent he has yet to share with the world. Catch him if you can because he's about ready take off.
Support local music: give it a listen, like, and share!
Next Penn State Event
New Music Tuesday – October 29th
New Penn State Music: Taking The Chance
Shawn Fox Releases "Apricity"
Carrie Brandon – In the Fall EP [Review]
Copyright © 2016. State In The Real / About / Contact


A very practical and neat folding cane, the Handbag Folding Cane folds into five sections instead of the usual four, making it particularly compact when folded, and so will fit easily into a handbag or coat pocket. The hardwood handle is a petite size, suitable for those with smaller hands. The strong and light, tropical flowers aluminium shaft is height adjustable in 2.5cm increments from 81 to 89cm. Ferrule diameter 16 mm. Total item weight 260 g.


Musical Artists Wanted: Dead or Alive?
After Tupac's digital debut at Cochella, what does this mean for the music industry?
You won't be disappointed with the sophisticated sounds of MacFarlane's "Music Is Better Than Words." So turn off the auto-tune, play a little jazz and share in the preservation of these wonderful classics.
If the General Field categories are so iconic and reflective of the year's finest, why don't we see more representation of winners from rap and hip hop?


text:
Stanley Alan Corngold
Stanley Alan Corngold, professor of German and comparative literature, was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1934. His undergraduate study at Columbia University was punctuated by two years of service in the U.S. Army; he graduated from Columbia with special distinction in English in 1957. His postgraduate transition toward the study of German and comparative literature took place at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, where he studied Sanskrit, and again at Columbia, where he studied German. After teaching as an instructor in the European Division of the University of Maryland, he entered the Ph.D. program in comparative literature at Cornell University. He received his doctorate in 1968 with a dissertation on Rousseau and Kant directed by Paul de Man, Robert M. Adams, and O. Matthijs Jolles. Stanley's first academic appointment came in 1966 as assistant professor of Germanic languages and literatures at Princeton. He was promoted to the rank of associate professor in 1972, and was named associate professor of comparative literature in 1979. He has served as professor of German and comparative literature since 1981.
Stanley's achievement and influence in the fields of German and comparative literature can hardly be overestimated. He is the author of six books and more than 100 articles; he has also translated or edited a further six volumes. He is best known as an authority on the great 20th-century author Franz Kafka—his work has changed our view of Kafka more than that of any single scholar of the last 40 years. His earliest work on Kafka, and especially the article "Metamorphosis of the Metaphor" (1973) is the key to any understanding of the textuality of Kafka's work. Stanley went on to produce a Kafka trilogy: The Commentator's Despair (1973), Franz Kafka: The Necessity of Form (1990), and Lambent Traces: Franz Kafka (2004), all which have opened Kafka's depths to generations of students and general readers.
Yet Stanley's range and influence is not limited to one author. As good as the Kafka books are, his most influential single work is perhaps The Fate of the Self: German Writers and French Theory (1986). In a magisterial study of German literature and philosophy between 1800 and 1950, he presents a compelling case for considering German writers and modern French theory together. Stanley's work staked out the terrain for a whole new approach to the field. This, book, too, has a kind of sequel. Complex Pleasure: Forms of Feeling in German Literature (1998) moves again over that broad terrain, adding new authors, new literary and philosophical problems, and a new, historically conscious approach to literature.
In fact, his books only suggest a fraction of Stanley's range. His essays examine philosophers such as Rousseau, Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Dilthey, Freud, Benjamin, Adorno, and Heidegger, and writers such as Lessing, Goethe, Hölderlin, Stendhal, Flaubert, Mann, Kraus, Sebald, Kosinski, and Coetzee. And his treatments of theoretical issues have been widely admired and persistently influential: Stanley is a leading figure not just in poststructuralist thought, but in hermeneutics, narratology, and psychoanalytic criticism as well.
Stanley has, for decades, served as one of Princeton's most influential teachers of the humanities. Courses such as "The Romantic Quest" and "Forms of Excitement" have long been on the "must-take list" for every talented Princetonian with aesthetic inclinations. He is the kind of highly individualized, memorable classroom presence of which we frankly have far too few. And he has reshaped the reading habits and reading ability of hundreds of students over the years. There is, moreover, hardly a leading German department in North America without a Princeton Ph.D., and virtually all of them have been marked by Stanley's graduate teaching. His advisees have consistently been among the department's most sophisticated and accomplished graduates, and have gone on to distinguished positions in our field. It is in fact very difficult to think of a more influential trainer of young scholars in North America. In 2009, he was honored with the Howard T. Behrman Award for Distinguished Achievement in the Humanities.
All of this achievement has been extravagantly recognized outside Princeton: Stanley has won ACLS, Fulbright, Guggenheim, and NEH fellowships; been named visiting fellow at the Internationales Forschungszentrum Kulturwissenschaften in Vienna and at the American Academy in Berlin; and served as a distinguished visiting scholar throughout North America and Europe.
Annual Emeriti Booklet Excerpt:
Stanley Alan Corngold 2009 Book.pdf


text:
POSTPONED A People's History of South Florida Program Series sponsored by the Marcia J. Kanner Memorial Fund
Saturday Mar 28, 2020 9:30 AM - 12:30 PM
This program series looks at Miami's history, from early settlers to its current evolution into a global city. Discussion points will include immigration, civil rights, gentrification, and other topics that help tell the story of the Magic City.
Wondrous Women of Miami Coach Tour
Meet at HistoryMiami Museum South Building, 101 West Flagler Street, Miami, Florida 33130
Celebrate Women's History Month and the YWCA of Greater Miami-Dade's Centennial on a tour with the YWCA's Kerry –Ann Royes and HistoryMiami Museum's Resident Historian, Dr. Paul George. Reflect upon the lives of women who have shaped Miami, including early pioneers Julia Tuttle, Mariah Brown, and Flora McFarlane. Learn how Mary Glenn Jackson led the effort to establish the local chapter of the YWCA in 1919, giving voice to the women and families of this community.
Ticket includes complimentary pass to HistoryMiami Museum.
About Resident Historian, Dr. Paul S. George
For over three decades, HistoryMiami Museum's Resident Historian Dr. Paul George has toured his way to local, national, and international acclaim with his continuing series of historic tours. As a South Florida native, author, and former college professor, Dr. George has gained fame for his uncanny ability to recall the most impressive details about the people and places that make South Florida so unique.
Presented with the support of the Marcia J. Kanner Memorial Fund
YWCA is dedicated to eliminating racism, empowering women and promoting peace, justice, freedom and dignity for all. To learn more about the YWCA of Greater Miami-Dade, please visit their website.
No audio or video recording, please. Onsite registration not available if tour is sold out.
By attending this program, you consent to interview(s), photography, audio recording, video recording and its/their release, publication, exhibition, or reproduction to be used for news, web casts, promotional purposes, telecasts, advertising, inclusion on web sites, or any other purpose by HistoryMiami Museum (HMM) and its affiliates and representatives. You release HistoryMiami Museum (HMM) its officers and employees, and each and all persons involved from any liability connected with the taking, recording, digitizing, or publication of interviews, photographs, computer images, video and/or or sound recordings. By entering the premises, you waive all rights you may have to any claims for payment or royalties in connection with any exhibition, streaming, webcasting, televising, or other publication of these materials, regardless of the purpose or sponsoring of such exhibiting, broadcasting, webcasting, or other publication irrespective of whether a fee for admission or sponsorship is charged. You also waive any right to inspect or approve any photo, video, or audio recording taken by HistoryMiami Museum (HMM) or the person or entity designated to do so by HistoryMiami Museum (HMM) You have been fully informed of your consent, waiver of liability, and release before entering the premise.


At the center of Indian Camp Creek Park is the eco-playground that celebrates the natural environment of the region. A hexagonal shaped pavilion overlooks the unique facility, which combines art and play.
Dotting the rocky landscape are stone frogs and a turtle that were created by renown St. Louis artist Robert Cassilly, who also designed the statues at Turtle Park (located along Highway 40 in St. Louis). Along with the large stone animals, smaller figures depict creatures common to the area such as turtles, frogs and salamanders.
Young explorers will delight in digging in the sand, with several surprise finds to uncover. In addition, tracks of animals and fossils found within the park have been captured in the sidewalk surrounding the pavilion and playground.
Play features include 2 slides, a tire swing, and a half-mile asphalt and boardwalk path around the nearby fishing pond.


text:
OpenGLAM and Open Science
Updates from Creative Commons Headquarters
· News
Copyright Law Must Enable Museums to Fulfill Their Mission
"London Museum," by Victoria Heath (CC BY);
Outdated and misaligned copyright rules fail to accommodate the legitimate activities of museums as they work to disseminate the world's shared heritage online through digital images, metadata, etc. Thus, central to CC's copyright policy agenda is making sure museums' concerns and needs are treated on equal footing with those of copyright owners, in a balanced and fair manner. In this blog post, we focus on the importance of copyright limitations and exceptions (L&Es) as the pillars on which museums can rest to fulfill their mission free of any undue legal encumbrances.
See https://creativecommons.org/2020/05/18/copyright-law-must-enable-museums-to-fulfill-their-mission/
Using CC Licenses and Tools to Share and Preserve Cultural Heritage in the Face of Climate Change
"Sultan Ahmed Mosque," by Konevi (CC0);
Cultural institutions are entrusted with a vast amount of humanity's memory—digitizing that memory and using the right legal tools can and should be done.
See https://creativecommons.org/2020/04/26/cc-licenses-tools-share-and-preserve-cultural-heritage-in-the-face-of-climate-change/
From Historic Images to Galactic Datasets: A Look at NASA's Mission to Be Open
Astronaut Edwin Aldrin walks on lunar surface near leg of Lunar Module by Neil Armstrong/NASA (Public Domain);
The space agency is not only required under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 to give you access to many of its materials but it also really wants you to use them. Here's why that matters for space science and space exploration more generally.
See https://creativecommons.org/2020/05/25/from-historic-images-to-galactic-datasets-a-look-at-nasas-mission-to-be-open/
Open COVID Pledge: Removing Obstacles to Sharing IP in...
Call for Proposals: Grant for the Web Announces Early...


This past weekend my dad and continued our annual tradition of going to the NCAA Men's Basketball championship, more commonly knows as "The Final Four." This is one of my absolute favorite events, for a number of reasons.
First, I get alone time with my dad. That's the only time all year we get that.
Second, my dad gets some vacation and relaxation time. He's a busy heart surgeon who works many hours every day, and I know he doesn't relax often. So I'm glad I can enable and encourage some R&R for him.
Third, we both love basketball, the central attraction of the weekend. We both love basketball more at the college level than the professional level. The enthusiasm for the game, the energy of the fans, it's addictive and infectious.
This year the Final Four was in Detroit, Michigan. I expected the city to be kind of a disaster zone, based on news and movies. I was wrong, and I am happy to admit it.
The downtown area was kept clean and organized. It was fun to walk around, see the river front, some of the nice buildings. Everyone was exceptionally nice, from the hotel people to servers at every restaurant, to ushers in the stadium. Just uniformly good customer service, which is rare and I appreciate it.
The Henry Ford museum and Ford Rouge factory tour were incredible. I might write a separate blog post on this topic. But they were worth the visit by themselves, easily. There are fascinating places, very well-organized and well-planned. I can't recommend them highly enough.
The basketball games were pretty good, as always. Ford Field was an adventure. Easily the biggest place I've ever seen a basketball game. It kind of sucked to be far away from the court even though we had relatively good seats in the lower area of the arena. It's just so wide. The energy of the stadium, filled with fans, could have been amazing if Michigan State made more of a game in the championship round.
All in all, we had a tremendously fun weekend. I was kind of bummed at first that the Final Four was in Detroit, but I can definitely recommend the city now much more. And of course, congratulations to the UNC Tar Heels!
Last year's review: 2008 Final Four in San Antonio.


text:
extern "C" {

// =============================================================================
//   Basic
// =============================================================================
void* cv_cuda_gpu_mat_default();
void cv_cuda_gpu_mat_drop(cv::cuda::GpuMat*);
void cv_cuda_gpu_mat_upload(cv::cuda::GpuMat*, cv::Mat*);
void* cv_mat_from_gpu_mat(cv::cuda::GpuMat*);
void* cv_cuda_gpu_mat_from_mat(cv::Mat*);

// =============================================================================
//   Hog
// =============================================================================
void* cv_cuda_hog_default();
void* cv_cuda_hog_new(Size2i win_size, Size2i block_size, Size2i block_stride, Size2i cell_size, int nbins);
void cv_cuda_hog_drop(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_detector(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, std::vector<float>*);
void cv_cuda_hog_detect(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, cv::cuda::GpuMat*, CVec<Rect>*);
void cv_cuda_hog_detect_with_conf(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, cv::cuda::GpuMat*, CVec<Rect>*, CVec<double>*);

void cv_cuda_hog_set_gamma_correction(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, bool gamma);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_group_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, int group_threshold);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_hit_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, double hit_threshold);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_l2hys_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, double l2hys_threshold);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_num_levels(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, int num_levels);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_scale_factor(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, double scale_factor);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_win_sigma(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, double win_sigma);
void cv_cuda_hog_set_win_stride(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*, Size2i win_stride);

bool cv_cuda_hog_get_gamma_correction(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
int cv_cuda_hog_get_group_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
double cv_cuda_hog_get_hit_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
double cv_cuda_hog_get_l2hys_threshold(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
int cv_cuda_hog_get_num_levels(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
double cv_cuda_hog_get_scale_factor(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
double cv_cuda_hog_get_win_sigma(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);
Size2i cv_cuda_hog_get_win_stride(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::HOG>*);

// =============================================================================
//   CascadeClassifier
// =============================================================================
void* cv_cuda_cascade_new(const char* const filename);
void cv_cuda_cascade_drop(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
void cv_cuda_cascade_detect(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, cv::cuda::GpuMat*, CVec<Rect>*);

void cv_cuda_cascade_set_find_largest_object(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, bool);
void cv_cuda_cascade_set_max_num_objects(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, int);
void cv_cuda_cascade_set_min_neighbors(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, int);
void cv_cuda_cascade_set_max_object_size(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, Size2i);
void cv_cuda_cascade_set_min_object_size(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, Size2i);
void cv_cuda_cascade_set_scale_factor(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*, double);

Size2i cv_cuda_cascade_get_classifier_size(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
bool cv_cuda_cascade_get_find_largest_object(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
int cv_cuda_cascade_get_max_num_objects(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
int cv_cuda_cascade_get_min_neighbors(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
Size2i cv_cuda_cascade_get_max_object_size(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
Size2i cv_cuda_cascade_get_min_object_size(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
double cv_cuda_cascade_get_scale_factor(cv::Ptr<cv::cuda::CascadeClassifier>*);
}

#endif  // OPENCV_GPU_H_

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


Saudi Arabia 2018 World Cup kits for Dream League Soccer 2018, and the package includes complete with home kits, away and third. All Goalkeeper kits are also included. This kits alos can use in First Touch Soccer 2015 (FTS15).
The shirts themselves do not have much to emphasize, making use of the new Nike template and traditional color combinations. It jumps the novelty of the new shield of the Football Federation of Saudi Arabia and the use of the old logo on the back of the neck.
The local shirt is painted bright white and green, while the visitor's shirt has a single shade of deep green.
3 Komen untuk "Saudi Arabia 2018 World Cup Kit - Dream League Soccer Kits"
could you please make 2010-11 barcelona kits?