St. Patrick’s Day on a Friday. The last time this occurred was 2006.
I was in my first semester at San Jose State and living with three roommates. I was single and subsequently spent a lot of time on MySpace. I’m fairly certain that I got plastered at San Jose Bar and Grill. SJBG received a lot of my disposable income in 2005-2007.
Times have changed.
I left work early on Friday, plenty of time to hit a bar or two if I desired. I’m mature now, bars are no longer disirable (for the most part). I had to hustle home for T-Ball practice.
Yes. This is my life. Eat your jealous heart out.
T-Ball practice is challenging. It’s my own damn fault I didn’t sign up to be a coach. Our assigned coach doesn’t posses any baseball-related knowledge (as he readily admits) and hasn’t taken anytime to watch a YouTube video (or two) to see how to organize his practice. The topper is the coach’s older son, who happens to be the most distruptive force in the history of T-Ball practice. Come to think of it, the son is utterly facinating. I will take notes throughout the T-Ball season on his exploits and dedicate a blog post to the kid.
Cool, now I will look forward to T-Ball practice.
I got our T-Ball Star (she’s tries and hasn’t picked flowers yet, so she’s a star in my eyes) home after practice and got ready to head to our new St. Patrick’s tradition: Taking the family to my cousin’s (Joe) and his wife’s (Erica) home.
This was our third year in attendance. It’s something my wife and throughly enjoy. Joe brines USDA Prime Brisket for 10 days. Erica bakes her own bread. They also produce a fanatic broth that includes all the other St Patty’s staples. Drinks are plentiful, with plenty of Beer, Whiskey, and Wine.
It really has ruined any other way to do St Patrick’s day.
We made it home just after midnight. I woke up in the same clothes (Green St. Patrick’s Day Gigantes t-shirt) in my daughters bed. Guess the last few drinks put me over.
I dusted off the cobwebs and made pancakes for the kids (and the adults). I’m not trying to be humble, my pancakes are fucking delicious.
Yes, I keep score at T-Ball. But since everyone scores, My score is based on the number of outs a team records.
The Golden Cubs (our team) lost to the King Snakes (2-1) in the opening game of the season the previous week.
This week’s game was a tussel with the Hammer Heads.
After one hour and two complete innngs the game mercifully ended with a score of 0-0. The Golden Cubs nearly pulled out a victory, but failed to record an out in the bottom of the second.
After the game, the kids headed up to a birthday party for our friend’s youngest son.
It feels like we have a birthday party every weekend. I can’t make anymore friends (at least with kids). We have no weekend life.
At least Saturday evening allowed some adult time. I ordered the Gennady Golovkin/Danny Jacobs fight and invited a few friends (Big Ken Jones and Dante’). Joe and I made plans the night before to make ruebens with the Corned Beef leftovers. The drunken plans were not well talked through.
We both bought everything (minus the Corned Beef on my end).
Drunks should take notes.
The Ruebens were fantastic as were the fights (minus the Roman Gonzalez robbery).
During the fight card, Dante’ brought up going to the 2nd round of the NCAA tournament the next day. Hell yes, I was in.
After the fights we caught the end of the USA vs DR in the WBC.
Great game. What a catch from Adam Jones. I found this photo afterward. There is too much good stuff going on in the background. The guy holding the beer up, eyes close, and hand outreached is my favorite. Kenny noticed MadBum on the left side of the picture. Good eyes, Ken Jones.
All in all, a great Saturday.
I woke up on Sunday anticipating heading to the Golden One Center for the Oregon/Rhode Island and UCLA/Cincinnati games.
As I looked around the house (and the subsequent mess from the night before) and heard the baby crying it became pretty clear that I should not abandon my Wife to allow me to have another day of fun. I needed to stay home. I reluctantly texted Dante’ that I had to back out. I felt like a bad friend. But Dante’ can’t kick me out of the bed and banish me to the couch.
By the way, we had a new sleeper sofa delivered Sunday afternoon.
I most likely would have been forced to test its comfort if I went to the NCAA games.
Dad Life allowed me to sleep in my own bed. Which by 6am had somehow managed to contain every child and Buster.
Wow. I have been absent of my Gigantes blog duties for a long time. Here is a quick recap of my life since my last entry on The-Three-Bs.com (which I did not renew this year).
- Promoted at my job in May 2011 (the largest reason for my posts ending).
- Had my first daughter-12/31/11. She witnessed Los Gigantes win the World Series in her first baseball season. Charmed start to her life.
- Got Married -3/24/13. She is a fan of both the Dodgers and Seahawks. What a sick joke.
- Sold our First Home-12/24/13.
- Had my second daughter-12/26/13. There is something to be said for consistency. I guess there is one week a year that my wife and I cannot resist each other. This child also witnessed a Los Gigantes World Series in her first baseball season. Daughter number #1 is living in excess at this point.
- Founded my first company (side-gig) 1/25/14
- Moved into our new home in a new city- 3/8/14
- Forced to transfer to a new Location while retaining the same job (actually closer to our new home, so it worked out well) -5/1/2014
- Had a public company represent our product for distribution 9/1/2014
- Side Business started generating revenue 5/1/2015
- Public Company could not provide adequate support and meet the requirements of our distribution contract. We were able to terminate and self distribute.
- Company grew and added a Partner and additional products and services-6/1/2016
- Third Daughter was born-10/11/16. My wife was concerned we would have another child in the final week of the year. We gritted it out and enjoyed each other, a full two months before our normal week of passion. I watched Los Gigantes implode against the Cubs on my phone using the DirecTV app. The Hospital had surprising fantastic wifi, which I truly appreciated through 8 full innings.
I have continued to be a monster fan of Los Gigantes through all of my life changes and new responsibilities. My world view has evolved as a whole little clan depend on me for life necessitates. This is to be expected.
It is my goal to post on here every once in a while. Same rules as before- Don’t take anything to seriously. There is always a twinkle in my eye.
On this St. Patty’s Day 2017- Raise a Pint and your favorite Irish Whiskey (Red Breast, anyone?). Maybe make an Irish Boilermaker and enjoy.
Just be sure to get home safe and not end up like this guy.
Buster Posey Injury Hysteria
From the Diaries of The Three Bs contributors:
KJ: Day 1 AB: An eerie silence has come over us. The cheers of yesteryear have been quieted. Our Savior has fallen.
AP:In the innings prior we (fans) all rose as one, in this moment of great strife we all drew a ragged breath. Just as the Great Leonidas before him, our brave Gerald sacrificed himself in the name of what we call home.We, more than ever, must protect this house.
SLY: The bad dream I believed I dreamt was proven to not be a dream but a real life sports inspired nightmare.The nightmarish event doesn’t feel real and won’t until the name of Whiteside permanently resides in the starting nine.
Raise your hand if you thought Scott Cousins would rip your heart out, place it on a curb, and to curb-stomp it repeatedly until the organ was unrecognizable?
I guess it was about as likely as Wilson Valdez earning a W before a healthy Ubaldo Jiminez.
Three Perspectives on the Buster Posey Injury
Fan: Most fans will never have the chance to meet Buster Posey the Person.Their interaction is limited to watching Buster do his job. To them (fans), Buster Posey is as good as dead (until he returns).Turn on KNBR today.It sounds like a radio broadcast of a funeral.
Personal:I feel for the guy as I too, have had a devastating baseball injury.For Buster, time will go by excruciatingly slow in the upcoming days, weeks, and months.There will be setbacks.Sorry Buster, this will not be fun.Good luck.
Team:All the right things will be said to the media, but every player on los Gigantes understands what Posey means to the team.It is s safe to say the mountain to the 2011 playoffs just went from Camelback Mountain (which a fat Pablo could still dominate) to something closer to Mount Everest/Kilimanjaro (wherethe conditions have to be right to climb).
Lucky for los Gigantes, the conditions are still good in the NL West.
Showtime producers have struck gold.There has been extended time lost to do injuries to four (Ross, Torres, Sandoval, and Posey) of los Gigantes regulars within the first 8 weeks of the season and yet the team is in first place.
I have a proposal for documenting Posey’s injury.Showtime should shoot a History Channel style documentary in the vein of “24 Hours after the JFK Assassination”.
Here is the script: Each scene must state how many minutes or hours before or after the injury occurred.
Opening scene: Montage of 9th inning comeback.
Cut to bottom 12th: Injury. Cameras get reactions from players, coaches, and fans. Catch a OMG moment from a fan and at least one fan crying.
Queue silence, then dreary dark undertones, then sounds of chaos.
Follow Buster to training room.Add swear words if Buster will not swear.Cameras must be bouncing around to illustrate the panic of the situation.
Cut to los Gigantes final out and quietness of the players entering the clubhouse.
Showtime will only air questions to players about Buster’s injury to illustrate how the loss of Buster was larger than the loss of the game.
Highlight Murph and Mac and the funeral like mood of the show.Cut to G-Rad and his “Nobody died” line.
Show another montage of all the updated reports on Buster from the media.
Okay Showtime, you can take it from here.Check the “SLY” section if you want my contact information for some producing help.
Buster Olney suggested that collisions at home plate should be disallowed.I appreciate Olney sticking up for his namesake, but I feel it is part of the game.The BBM chat this morning between KJ, RT, AP, and I resulted with a rule that we felt was fair and kept the collisions legal.
Rule 7.002C: A player may collide with a player at home plate in an effort to reach the base safely. The running player may not collide with a player at an attempt to jar the ball from a player’s possession.If a collision occurs without an effort to reach the base safely the player shall be called out and all advancing runners must return to the previous base.
The call would hinge on the Umpire’s discretion.This play will be reviewable.
Buster Posey (2011): 4 Home Runs and 21 RBIs
Eli Whiteside (Career): 7 Home Runs and 25 RBIs
Please be healthy for 2012.
A Call to Action for More Neck Tattoos
I’ve often written about my affinity for neck tats and the people who decided they are a good look and fit for their lifestyle.
My hypothesis: Neck tattoos are predominantly on three groups of people:
1. Professional Athletes. (Basketball players are the worse offenders.)
2. Entertainers. (A better decision for Musical acts than Actor.)
3. Self-Employed or in a field that does not require customer interaction.
My thoughts are rational and I feel they are self evident.The all too proud owners of neck tattoos make the bold statement that: “I never have to worry about my appearance to make a living.”
A person in group #3 is most likely an excellent chef who has appeared on “No Reservations” or associated with illegal activities.
(I have been on a Tony Bourdain: No Reservations kick.I watched the Pacific Northwest episode where every chef was tat’d from head to toe.)
Gangland has also been a DVR favorite of mine the past few years.The number of tattoos on the necks of the criminals on Gangland is astounding. Why would anyone who engages in constant illegal acts ever want to have an easily identifiable trait?
Criminals must have been smarter in the past.I cannot think of one famous Mafioso who ever donned a neck tattoo.
This brings me to Giovanni Ramirez, the prime suspect in the Bryan Stow beating.I was elated on Sunday morning when the news was reported that he was in custody.I was more elated to learn what tip led to his arrest: Ramirez’s neck tattoo.
Ramirez’s Probation Officer (is anyone surprised that Ramirez is a convicted felon?) noticed that Ramirez’s neck tattoo was recently changed and that Ramirez resembled one of the men on the 300 Billboards around the Los Angeles area.
Why would someone change one of their most easily identifiable traits?Easy, when someone thinks that an easily indefinable trait may make them easier to indentify.
The ironic part is that if Ramirez left his neck tattoo as is, his probation officer probably never makes the call to the Los Angeles Police Department.
Witnesses may not even have been able to identify Ramirez’s neck tattoo.The senseless attack occurred at almost 9pm in parking lot that is not well lit.The sketches were not too detailed.
Ramirez’s paranoia from a physically identifiable trait he willingly added to his body led him make a decision which led to his arrest.
Maybe we should take a page out of the “Scarlet Letter” and brand our felons.Instead of a Scarlet A, we should think of a hideous neck tattoo to identify felons of the United States of America.
The “Felon Neck Tattoo” would have to be something big, bold, and bright.
(Yes, Three Bs alliteration pun intended.)
Have you ever had a day which went horrible but then when you look back and it could have been a lot worse?
That was my Monday.
I woke up on Monday with my eyes a shade of red which would have made Joseph Stalin blush.I arrived to work and tried to have as little contact with other employees and customers as possible. I had no idea what was wrong with my eyes.I thought about using WebMD.com for a self diagnosis but I didn’t feel like reading my obituary.WebMD seems to always come up with a diagnosis which is in need of immediate emergency care.
A Doctor’s appointment was made for later in the afternoon.
I filled out my new patient paperwork when I arrived at the doctor’s office.I saw a familiar face in the back of the office.
SLY: “Is that the Doctor?”
Receptionist: “Why yes, it is.”
SLY: “Funny, I know him. He is a customer of mine.”
Receptionist: “Where do you work?”
SLY: “Uh, the Casino.”
Dang it, I probably shouldn’t have called out the doctor before he sees me.
Doctor: “Whoa!” (As the Doctor entered the patient room)
I made sure to give the Doctor his proper respects by referring to him as Dr. (insert last name here), instead of the initials I have known him as for the last two years as a customer.
Doctor (insert last name here) had a surprisingly great personality.He was also a huge baseball and Gigantes fan.
Maybe that’s why I liked him.
Turns out I had some crazy allergies, much better than the diagnosis I would have received on WebMD.It took 27 years, but I finally experienced what so many of my family and friends complain of each year.
I now feel your pain in my eyes and wallet.The three prescriptions clocked in at $125.
Why do I pay for health insurance?
I arrived home in a bitter mood because of the cash spent on the prescriptions, the allergies, and there was no Gigantes game to look forward to.
The bitter mood soon turned to panic.
I noticed some water on the street in front of my house.I looked a little closer, it was not “some” water, it was a lot of water. Water was pouring into the street.I then heard an odd sound; it was the sound of water shooting into the air.I looked in horror as I saw what resembled “Old Faithful” in my backyard.
Water was shooting about 15 feet in the air.It was impressive.I would have taken time to snap a picture ff it wasn’t for the fact it was destroying the home I owe so much money on.
I threw off my suit, grabbed shorts, a shirt, and shoes I knew would be ruined.I ran to the backyard which was now 6-8 inches under water.I found the broken pipe, and was unable to stop Old Faithful.
I ran to the front of the house and turned off the main water supply.I looked like I just walked out of a swimming pool as I stood in shock on the sidewalk.
As I stood there soaked and dumbfounded, a lady walked past me with her dog.
LadyiWantedtoPunch: “Oh, Water.”
She then proceeded to lightly jump over the little puddle that was in her path.
I wanted to scream and curse her.
Look at me, almost grown up and able to deal with others.
I naturally called my Home Warranty company to fix my little water problem.
Turns out, the Home Warranty company (Fidelity Home Warranty) only covers incidents inside the actual home.
Thank you, I will now cancel your service.
I was unable to secure a plumber for Monday night.I would have brought out the soap and shampoo when Old Faithful was erupting if I known that would be the case.
A plumber arrived on Tuesday morning.I was expecting a hefty bill to fix the pipe.I acted like it was an easy fix to the plumber, and it was.$90 and 10 minutes later, my pipe was repaired.
As the plumber left he showed me where I could have shut off the water for only outside.
I felt like I belonged on the short bus.
I took a shower to wash off the shame of my home owner incompetence before work.
All in All the day could have been worse.My eyes could have had an un-curable new strain of pinkeye and my house could have been completely flooded.
I’ll take the $215 tab and shame of not knowing how my home functions.
I hate off-days.
The Slingin’ Johnny Sanchez Drinking Game
With the Spiritual Southpaw on the shelf I have been asked who would carry the Barry Zito Drinking game torch.
Easy, Slingin’ Johnny Sanchez.
It is an easy call because Sanchez’s starts are frustrating, fascinating, and often dominating. He can look aloof, focused, and aloof all within the same batter.
As Mama Gump famously said: “Jonathon Sanchez is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
Legal Disclaimer: The Three Bs and its correspondents are not responsible for the health risks involved in any drinking games.If you are too stupid to know when to quit, then shame on you.
Slingin’ Johnny Sanchez is wildly effectively wild; the rules reflect his best and worst traits.
Official Rules of the Slingin’ Johnny Sanchez Drinking Game:
On the Bump:
Strike out an opposing hitter: 2 drinks
For every base runner(s) stranded: 2 drinks
For every base on bal or HBPl: 2 drinks
For every Run allowed (earned or unearned): 6 drinks
For every wild pitch: 1 Beer
Every dumb, confused, or blank look by Sanchez will be worth: 1 Beer
Every time the camera catches Bochy with his hands on his hips, his size 8 hat off his noggin, or his hands in the air: 1 Beer
20+ Pitches in one inning: 1 Shot
4 Strikeouts in One Inning: Game Over. Every beer in the house must be finished. The participant(s) must spend an additional $100 if participating at the ballpark or bar.
At the Plate:
Reaching Base (Any way possible): 1 Beer
*Our empirical evidence found that 12 drinks equal a full beer*
This entry will be used as a way for me to write out the details of one of the craziest acts I have seen in my short time on earth.The details are fresh and there is a strong possibility I will be called for some sort of questioning.
The day started innocent enough.I woke up to Murph and Mac, listened to Krukow talk about pitchers fielding their position (Please!!!), and made myself some breakfast.
(I have to have at least one Gigantes mention)
I left my quasi-city complex around 8:30AM and headed southbound to the freeway.
For visual reference, the parkway from my quasi-city complex that leads to the freeway entrance has two lanes northbound and southbound.
I drove in the right hand lane at a speed of around 55 MPH.The speed limit is 45 MPH, but that speed limit is rarely observed.
At 8:35AM or so I noticed an unusual sight, a car driving in the field to my right.
The car was a newer model Dodge Challenger.The Challenger’s color was black, the front end was smashed, and it approached my vehicle at an alarming rate.
The Challenger passed my vehicle on the right, off the road in the field, at a rate of approximately 80 MPH.
I had no clue at the moment what was going on.
There was a work truck and car (I noticed 3 workers) parked in the field approximately ¼ mile up (South) the road.
It soon occurred to me what was about to happen.
The Challenger had no intention of moving back towards the road. The Challenger headed straight for the parked work truck and car.
The Challenger sped full speed into the work truck.I did not observe any break lights, or what happened to the people who were working in the field near the work truck and car.
The scene was something straight out of Quentin Tarantino’s “Death Proof”.
Shock is not a descriptive enough word.
One of my biggest strengths in life and what has made me successful at my job is the ability to access a situation and make an informed decision.
My first thought was that the driver of the Challenger attempted suicide and there was a good chance he was successful.
I expected multiple fatalities at the scene.
I approached the scene (in my car) with caution and normal human curiosity.
One man was seriously injured.The man was in shock and appeared to have devastating leg and hip injuries.He unsuccessfully attempted to get up multiple times.The other two people at the scene were in shock of what happened but appeared uninjured.
I had a decision.What is my role going to be here?
As I analyzed my options, another car quickly drove past me to the scene.The car had recently been rear ended.When I write “recently”, I mean as in the last 5 minutes.
The Challenger had at least one opening act before the finale.
The driver of the Challenger emerged from the wrecked car, he appeared uninjured.The driver was an Asian male, shaved head, and an age of mid 30s-early 40s.
The driver was someone who obviously was not of a sound or logical mind.
He walked around the scene with a sense of calm among all the devastation and destruction he was responsible for.
His sense of calm spooked me.I had the sick feeling that if he had a weapon, he would use it for harm on anyone around him.
I did not know the driver’s intentions or wanted to stick around to find out. Engaging the driver at the scene would not lead to anything positive.I felt as if the seriously injured party was being attended by the two others (excluding the driver) at the scene.
I called 911 as I left the scene.My call had one unique purpose as I knew 911 had already been called.
My goal was to alert dispatch that the accident scene should be treated as a crime scene as there was intent to injure and to proceed with caution with the driver.
I was glad I called as this was new information to dispatch.
The radio was silent for the 45 minute drive to work.I sat and thought about the surreal situation.
I was at a stop light the minute before.Would I have been the recipient of a high speed rear-end crash?I would have been an easy target.
All of a sudden, life felt very fragile and Aaron Rowand’s .484 OPS in May felt insignificant.
*** Thanks to Cyndie Moran of http://www.coffeequeenkeepsbusy.com/ for the photos***
The White Car was the Opening Act
The Once Pristine Dodge Challenger
The Field to the right is where the “accident” occured