Go Fish.

It must be a day for old socks. In August 2004, Kevin Millar found himself replaced by Doug Mientkiewicz when Mientkiewicz came over in the Nomar Garciaparra deal. Millar wasn't hugely pleased with being relegated to "el bencho" but it worked out alright in the end. Mientkiewicz has, however, upstaged Millar again by signing a minor-league deal with the Florida Marlins and the same day that Millar goes to play independent ball.

For the Love of Baseball.

Kevin Millar was cut by the Cubs at the end of Spring Training and signed on to be an analyst for MLB Network but that job doesn't mean that he'd done with playing. Millar has signed on to play independent ball for the St. Paul Saints this season. Best of luck to him.

Nomar.

Reuters Pictures.

So, Nomar Garciaparra day, huh? It's cool I guess. He's happy. The front office is happy. The press is pissed off that they can't get anyone to hate him anymore. It seems a little bit unnecessary but no harm, no foul.

Cancer Sucks.

There are probably plenty of things that Dave Roberts has done in his lifetime that he will be remembered for. Around here there's only one moment that really matters. A long time ago I promised that, should I ever be in charge of naming a little boy, I would call him David Robert _______. It's close enough, it's not overly obvious, and it's a nice name. Sadly, now the man who ran for Kevin Millar is battling Hodgkin's lymphoma.

It's a highly treatable cancer and they, reportedly, caught it early. So that's good news. The absolute best of luck to him and hope for a full and speedy recovery. And perhaps consider giving blood or, if they'll take you, signing up for the bone marrow donation registry, with Roberts in mind to help others with lymphomas.

Pa-hone-icks.

Gentlemen:

I don't think that I ask for too much; 162 wins a year, repeated World Series championships, perfect games, general feats of baseball greatness, and most importantly the dismantling of the Yankees. So I have a small favor to ask of you, if your grand scheme is to be like the phoenix and rise dramatically from the ashes of this disastrous season, could you please do it tonight? I've had a rough twenty-four hours topped off by spending the night in the ER with my mother (She's fine but given her familial history better safe than sorry) and I really need an evening to just veg out on the couch and be carefree. If you boys could do that for me, I'd be super-duper grateful.

Thanks in advance,
Liz

New Lows.

Being swept by the Baltimore Orioles is about as hard to do as, to quote the president of BP America, "...performing open heart surgery at 5000 feet, in the dark, with robot-controlled submarines." He was, of course, talking about repairing his company's broken oil well in the Gulf but I enjoy the absurdity of the quote.

On Losing.

Dearest Team:

Hiya. How are things? You may have noticed that things have gone a bit quiet around here lately. It's not that I fell off of the bandwagon, twisted an ankle, and was, therefore, unable to catch up to it again. I promise. There was an attempt to give up baseball all together in a show of solidarity for Wake but that didn't last very long. The thing is: writing about losing day in and day out is boring. Whining about what an awful team this year's would appear to be is unattractive. Who would want to read about that? So rather than spending a fair amount of time on new and interesting ways to lose baseball games, I didn't write anything at all.

But, dear hearts, I do have a piece of advice for you: If you're going to lose, then just lose. It seems to me that in the majority of baseball fans, there's this odd co-mingling of cynicism and optimism that, by it's very nature, leads to the worst kind of heartbreak. Tonight's one step forward, two steps back routine is a prime example. I couldn't help but think "This is it. They're going to win the game and it's going to be the catalyst for them to stop being a mediocre baseball team." alternated with "Aw. Crap. Never mind." And ultimately, sometimes it really sucks to be proven right.

Kisses,
Liz