More Nomar Reaction

More Nomar reaction around the web: Of course, everyone's favourite magazine has a reaction, what those terror warnings were actually all about was, in fact, Nomar's departure to the Cubs. And Joe Sullivan has a pretty good article in the Union Leader.

I feel exactly the same way as Joe... I felt like I'd been divorced Saturday afternoon, sort of a "Funeral Blues" kind of:

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W. H. Auden

I swore off the Sox that afternoon (been following them since I was a kid in the mid-to-late seventies, a child of Worcester, Mass)... but I wound up coming back... a lot like I did just a few years ago, getting over my long state of discontent over the strike year (I'll grant you, this turnaround was a bit shorter). I'm a lot more wary now, and have, unfortunately, accepted it as a business, that's the way things go. It was nice, for example, to see old Timmy, whom I'd liked as Pirate, and was thrilled when the Sox acquired him, go out and pitch pretty well after a little two run hiccup. But not instant messaging scores around to L, who is also a Sox fan (learned, not born), like I would with a resounding "MANNNNYYYYY! Off the Coke bottles!" or "NOMAAAAAAR! Two run shot!"

I think the biggest reason I've come back around to watching the team through my fingers again (well, metaphorically... as we're stuck in California for a few years it's more like watching the Sox through the throttled stream of WEEI via mlb.com over a 56k modem) is that I think we may still be in for a reconciliation. It's stupid, I know, but don't you think that way in a divorce? And why not? Nomar's a free agent in the autumn, why wouldn't the Sox throw their hat in the ring, pick him up in the offseason, dust him off, and give him a great big hug. "Nomar, welcome back. We were just testing you... and," as Lucchino turns to the fans standing at the foot of the stage, "you guys. We were just kidding." And with that he hands back Nomar's #5, and Nomar flashes one of his smiles, and grabs a bat from some lackey on the edge of the stage, and he looks at his most comfortable, leaning on the bat like he's stretching out before a game or something. And Theo's just standing there on the side of the stage, smiling, with his arms folded across his chest, resisting the urge to wipe the little bead of sweat off his brow. Plausible, right?

Ohh, I'm sure the harsh realisation will hurt, but until then it gives us something to look forward to, come October...

No More Nomar...

Gargh.

Oh well. It really sucks that things got to that point, that there was really nowhere else for Nomar to go but out but there you have it -- a couple of rejected contract offers, a lot of bad press about injuries, the missed trade, and he's out.

Nomar, for the record, is what brought me back to baseball after those years after the strike year, when I just lost interest... and Saturday night I really thought I was just going to pack it in again... after all, baseball is a business. Maybe not so much when you're younger and don't read the goddamn newspapers so much and just have your posters on the wall to tell you about your heroes (Steve Grogan, Ray Bourque, Larry Legend, Roger Clemens...).

It's just a bit saddening, really.

Here's hoping they manage to not make so many errors and the bats come alive...

Bill Simmons on Missing the Sox Games

Bill Simmons (aka The Sports Guy) has a beef with the decision not to show the Sox-Spankees game on Saturday by Fox.

Right on, brothah!

(Umm, yeah, I'm white. At least I don't follow the NBA any longer.. sorry.)

I was gutted to find, after rushing home from a mid-morning softball game in sunny Silicon Valley, leaving the car as the Sox were coming up to bat in the bottom of the second (found it on ESPN radio, thankfully), slamming round the corner, up the stairs, off the walls in the hallway, into the door as I tried to jam the key in, flung the door open -- L. (my own personal Sports Gal) standing there, staring at the tv: "It's not on."

I dove for the couch, flipped up the clicker, flicked through the usual suspects, 2, 38, 39, 40, 41, a couple more north of there just in case we were having channel displacement and every channel had been shifted a couple of numbers. I went back and tried 3 and 4 just in case that theory had legs.

No. Friggin'. Game.

Correction. Giants-Cardinals game. To quote Bill: "I'm sure there were pennant implications and stuff. It's just that I don't care. I don't care about the National League. I care about the Red Sox. "

Unfortunately, we don't have a radio, we've made due with a combo of WEEI from mlb.com over our crappy little dial-up or listening to music off the old iTunes. And the internet wasn't an option because, as soon as she found out the game wasn't on the television L. started in on some phone calls back home to Ireland she had to make. I could feel the great primal scream coming from somewhere deep inside me. The same primal scream our ancestors probably made when they first crawled out of the sea and realised there weren't any cabanas or chaise lounges set up just yet. The same ones that remember Smokey Joe Wood.

So I ran the whole way down to Walgreens, literally. This isn't as impressive as it sounds, as Walgreens isn't particularly far from the house, but I did do it in sandals, which has to up the difficulty factor a little bit. Rummaged through all the aisles in Walgreens looking desperately for a battery-powered AM radio. Got a little huffy with a woman and her cart who obviously didn't realise the guy running around with the sweaty 'B' cap was involved in a quest of monstrous proportions.

Finally found the radios near the front of the shop (damn this new and newly laid out location they've put themselves in... last year, before I started work over here I would have found those radios in milliseconds, that's how well I was acquainted with the old Walgreens building), grabbed one that mentioned AM and battery on it, grabbed a pack of 9V batteries, and ran out of the store, back up the street towards home.

I had the bright idea to open the battery pack and radio to try and listen to it on the way home, sooth the savage soul, as it were. Only bits of radio really need to have a table or something to rest on, if you're going to take them apart, I think that might even be mentioned in the instruction manual, because the parts just seem to flip out of your hands way too easily and are made out of that plastic that hits a surface and instantly skids out of reach and, if one is available, under a fridge. And using a plastic bag, which is filled with the plastic bags that contained the radio box and the radio inside the plastic box, as your table is not a great substitute.

But I did it. I managed to get the battery in. I had to stop running at this point, and to get those little caps on the nubs I had to stop completely. I probably had my tongue stuck out and my mouth twitching at this point, as I apparently do when I'm concentrating on something. I've never seen it, personally, as I'm usually concentrating on whatever it is at the time.

And no sound. Damn. It. I flicked both dials around to see if there was no sound due to the fact that I wasn't on a proper frequency or maybe had the sound down too far. Still no luck. I bolted across the road, finally, glaring at the back of those cars that didn't realise you're supposed to stop to let pedestrians cross at crosswalks in the civilised world (of which California doesn't fall, but hey, we're hoping they all learn someday), especially when there's a Red Sox game on. I would have chucked the radio at them if 1) I didn't need it to listen to the game and 2) this were the movie world, where I could get away with such a thing, especially if it wound up hitting the car and breaking their rear view windshield or something and 3) I thought it would make me feel better.

So, with my lifeless radio back into the apartment, L. still on the phone, television quiet.

I plugged the radio in in the kitchen, and flipped through frequencies. Scared L. out of the room when sound, just nonsensical, incredibly loud sound blasted out. I settled down. Breathed in deep once or twice. This may have also been due to the fact that I hate running and was sucking wind like nobody's business. My hands were shaking slightly, I thought. It made it difficult to tune the radio. I made a slight placating gesture to L's back as she left to room to continue her conversation in a room in which she could actually hear and turned back to the radio.

Finally, struck gold, got the ESPN radio announcers, and settled in.

At the next break, I took it outside, plugged it into the outdoor outlet, which seems to like it better if the plug isn't pushed all the way in but rests sort of halfway out, tempting little kids' fingers (should there be any around), set up on of the patio chairs, grabbed some juice from inside and proceeded to, at long last, enjoy the game.

Man, living on this coast is tough.

Giambi's Mystery Illness

Now, every time this story comes up I have to wonder... why, with all the crap, almost completely unsubstantiated journalism going on out there, has no one really asked if Jason Giambi's decline in health has been due to his extreme weight loss over the offseason (notice how I didn't even mention the rumoured kicking the BALCO steroids that has been snickered at as the reason for his weight loss and not, as he put it, laying off the hamburgers)?

The only place(s) I've seen this raised thus far is in the nyyfans.com forums (and the people who suggested it were quickly shouted down with cries of slander! slander! -- Jesus, guys, it's a forum, a fan forum, there's going to be all kinds of crap...) and in the NY Daily News online. Has this been commented on elsewhere?

It's not a sign of disrespect. Forget the playing aspect of it (I think it's a joke he was voted on to the All Star team, especially after the stink that was raised when Nomar, who hadn't played by that point, was leading the shortstop voting... the guy looks like a scarecrow and he's the starting first baseman for the American League? Over write-in Papi? Come on.). The guy's really sick.

I just wonder why no one's asking the obvious questions now... Or maybe they are, if they are, please show me who's asking them.

Oh Tessie! Sox Win, Sox Win!

Tessie, you are the only, only, ooo-oo-oo--oooonly!

Man, what a weekend.

Lesson number 1) Never let people try to make plans with you when the Yankees roll into Fenway.

Lesson number 2) Maybe it's a good thing, for your heart, that you missed Matsui's grandslam, leaving the house with the Sox up 8-2.

The video for the new version of Tessie is here, which is the 56k link, as even on a pretty hefty Internet connection the DSL version kept crapping out.

Here's hopin' all the good vibes carry over from the weekend's series into the road trip... I'd love to see some vintage Pedro by the time we get to visit Worcester in mid-August...

Don't Bother Holding the Debates

I would say we don't really need the debates for the November elections... this film says it all pretty much in a nutshell.

It's that time of year again, when you should leave the country and try coming back when it's in a better state.

Or just watch a lot of films... Sane's getting into the swing of it with movie reviews lately.

Bindings and NSTableView subclasses

Just a tip, for anyone wanting to use bindings with a custom subclass for NSTableView (say you wanted to create a subclass so you could handle a user pressing the delete key ) is that, if you want sorting to work automagically you need to do a little extra work... don't worry, it's not a lot.

Instead of just hooking up the content binding to your NSArrayController you will also have to explicitly hook up the selectionIndexes and sortDescriptors bindings.

A picture might help. Your bindings inspector is going to look like the following in InterfaceBuilder:

You can find this advice, as well as loads of other good advice with regards to binding at mmalc's Bindings tips and tricks.

Set My People Free!

This is a load of, well...

Why do people think blogging is the end all be all? Not only am I getting disillusioned with the state of journalism these days, it's not like "participatory journalism" is any better.

"Some of my pleasantest hours were during the long rain-storms in the spring or fall, which confined me to the house for the afternoon as well as the forenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and pelting; when an early twilight ushered in a long evening in which many thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves. " - Walden, somewhere in the middle.

Of course, we all know Thoreau cheated by hanging out down at old Emerson's house half the time, don't we?

Good Old Manny

Man oh man.

I'm beginning to think that it's not going to be down to a blockbuster trade that'll put the Sox over the top towards winning it all... it'll be the media in Boston putting a big fat cork in it, for Pete's sake.

Manny took a day off yesterday, and the media get stirred into a frenzy. Nick's response seems to be the most level headed, but come on... is this an issue? Who cares if Manny takes a day off? He's been on a tear for the last month or so, coming into the break with MVP numbers and hasn't had too many days off this season so far (you can tell I swear by the cold heard stats of the game)... between him and Ortiz the Sox couldn't really afford to rest either of them, seeing as how they were carrying the team. And now that Nomar does, indeed, seem to be back, and Johnny Damon appears to have been possessed by the spirit of Teddy Ballgame (you can only imagine Ted wondering what the hell he's doing with all that hair), Terry can afford to give Manny a little breather.

I think Ed had a good idea when he abstained from the Boston media for Lent... and you hear the talk of clubhouse cancers...

Hopefully the CHB gets in a good article about this one, as he seems to enjoy misery like this.

At any rate, let's get this joke of a show out of the way this week and let 'em roll on into Anaheim, where we'll be making the trip down to catch Saturday's game (Wakefield to start, I believe), I'm looking forward to seeing the Sox bats light it up once again.

Sox v the MFYs

Surviving Grady has a great entry about last night's game... I think I'm worried, now, about the prospect of Butch Hobson's ghost visiting me at night...

And Bill Simmons, the Sports Guy, has a great article, as well, about last night's painful one... Hopefully tonight Petey can pull it together...

What Kind of Bird is That?

It's a whine bird. Or a couple of them.

Robb (who must have been enslaved and beaten daily in a previous life by someone who wound up working at Apple) and David K Every seem to be getting more and more vitriolic these days, don't they? Jesus.

To be fair, though, I never thought much of DKE... I've never run across... ehm, journalism, sure, journalism, as rife with broad, sweeping statements that have no basis in fact. I suppose he'd make a good columnist in the Dan Shaughnessy mold (please, we don't need another one... or even the first one, come to think of it), but for pete's sake I wish he wouldn't pass it off like he's an objective observer. I did enjoy his little full disclosure note at the bottom, though... nice touch.

John Gruber has a pretty fair assessment of the recent controversy.

Weblogs shouldn't be mistaken for journalism, kids. You're more like the wackjobs muttering to themselves (mind, not the ones on the actual soapboxes) at Speaker's Corner.

Just figured I'd point out some... well, not quite interesting, but, well, it's writing, anyway.

The standard disclaimer applies.

[Also, in the interest of fulll disclosure I once had a 'blog entry all ready to go, all about DKE's terrible writing style and miserable attempts to pass himself off as a real journalist, but never ever published it. Go figure. Just so you're informed. I also once had a dog named Coffee. No lie.]

Counting Crows at the Mountain Winery

Caught a great show last night from the Counting Crows and the Graham Colton Band at the Mountain Winery... what a place to see a concert, the views from the top of the hill are fantastic (almost killed the car, but that's all right, kudos and thanks go out to the Santa Clara Sheriffs Department and their crack staff of former Ford mechanics)... highly recommended, if you're in the South Bay area (the trip up, not the (minor) car troubles).