Law School Libraries, Where Sundays Go To Die

Every weekend seems to get more and more random. Not a bad thing, but I am learning that no matter what happens, Sunday finds me staring at the ceiling of the law library wondering how I possibly convinced myself that law school was my childhood dream. I took some random mental notes along the way this weekend…

-My personal crusade against H1N1 was successful this weekend despite a scare that included an impromptu Vitamin buffet. I don’t know what St. John’s Wort does but you should never bite the plastic cover off.

-Has anyone ever gone to a football tailgate and met someone they don’t like? Seriously, my buddy Giles invited me to a tailgate this weekend and every person I met there was cool, nice, and interesting. Very excited that football tailgates are a legit part of the law school experience.

-Lifetime (Television for women) had a Lifetime Original called “The Haunting of Sorority Row” on tonight. How is this station still going? Do they have a PBS like annual telethon with all the former members of 90210 begging for another chance?

-I am a Cincinnati Bengals fan. I always have been, I always will be. However, hearing about the Patriots decimate a team like that today made me sad when I realized that my team will most likely never do anything like that no matter how good a season we are having.

-Hank Moody was one “Perfect 10″ model away from hitting for the “man cycle” in last night’s episode of Californication. How do you land that role? Outstanding effort Duchovny. Must be tough to play yourself on TV.

-My whole life I planned on going to law school but I never once thought about becoming a Judge. Now that I am reading all these opinions handed down from the courts, I realize that God knew to keep certain aspirations in check with me. The intelligence level from those of the bureaucratic cloth is humbling.

-Sometimes when I spell a word so badly that even the Spell Check doesn’t have a suggestion, I open a Google search and type the word in. Google always finds a way to get it right. I did that in the last sentence with bureaucratic.  If Google can figure it out, why can’t the regular spell check? Is Google better at that too?

-Thursday is the new Friday. Friday is the new Monday. Monday is still Monday. Something isn’t right here in the law school schedule.

-My average bed time used to be 2:30 AM. My new average bed time is 11:30 AM. I have a feeling the new bed time is here to stay.

-Last random thing, a wise person once told me that if I complimented three people every day randomly, not only would my day be productive but three people would be better for it. I’ve kind of forgotten that piece of advice so this week, my goal is 50 genuine compliments. I encourage you to do the same. Let me know how it goes, I would love to hear some of these responses. Given the weather in Boston, I could probably use the morale boost.

Law School = Junior High (if nothing else, read the last line for charity)

This past week, I got yelled at by a teacher for talking too loudly in the hall between classes. This is my life people…law school.

I can’t say I am not enjoying it. The people are great. We have these people with resumes beyond comprehension. One guy almost won a Pulitzer Prize for photojournalism because he took these incredible pictures while embedded in Israel during the Hammas ordeal. One woman was already a lawyer in China, and now she’s here picking up a U.S. law degree. Another is a nuclear physicist who also doubles as a rabbi. Put that in your pipe James Bond. I played baseball. Which one doesn’t belong?

That said, everyone has been real cool and accepting. Some people even laugh at my Saved By The Bell references although I am pretty sure a girl who sits two rows in front of me in Property class might not be a huge fan after I dissected why Courtney Cox was the perfect choice to head up Cougartown in a group discussion. Yeah that was two TV jokes in one run-on sentence, what now?

The most surprising thing, the lunch room. Seriously, I sit at lunch with a group of guys every day, and all we do is tell terrible jokes and make fun of each other. It feels very similar to a bullpen except that people get up and go to class instead of warmup. And no one has nearly as big a dome as Jeff Stevens. I think anyone that paid good money for front row seats at Wrigley this September and ended up behind his head deserves a refund. There, I said it. Now every Cub fan has constructive notice that they shouldn’t buy those seats for next year because Jeffrey should be a staple in that bullpen all year next season.

Back to the lunch room, today we sat around discussing a group Halloween costume. I mean, how many times can you get six dudes on the same page? We’ve thrown all sorts of ideas out there but it appears that everyone is on board trying to come up with some hilarity, any ideas would be worthwhile.

The one thing I was ready for and haven’t been disappointed with is the reading. I am surprised more lawyers don’t go blind. Small print, densely packed, with no end in sight. In fact, I am skipping reading right now to write this. There is absolutely no end to the reading. I try to get ahead and I realize that I am actually ten pages behind. I guess I signed up for this but if I ever run into this Socrates character I am going to give him a swift kick to the groin. That was a law school joke people and not a good one.

As you can tell my jokes are getting lamer, my posts shorter, and my TV references less a propos. At least my GM didn’t call me out in the papers, wear that Vaughany.

I’ve got a century club scheduled tonight with my boys. One hundred videos chopped down to one minute apiece just for timing sake and if you don’t know what I am talking about then you probably should have put the gravity bong down in college. With the century club in tow, I should have a new that guy ready to go here in the next few days.

Last little plug, if anyone is living or knows anyone living in the Kansas City, Missouri area, a charity I work with, Friends of Jaclyn (www.friendsofjaclyn.org) is looking for some people to help out with a cool family down there. It takes little commitment and it means the world. Leave a comment or email me and I’ll help put you in touch with the right people.

Thanks for reading, or not reading, we will check on it.

Don’t Be That Guy- In The Club Edition

It’s been a while since I’ve called out someone that I don’t know but can’t really understand in a little section I like to call “Don’t Be That Guy”.

For those who don’t know me, I am that guy a lot, so it’s ok for me to make fun of them. It’s along the lines of the you’re allowed to make (insert your own ethnicity, religion, race, etc.) jokes if you are a member of (insert your own ethnicity, religion, race, etc.) group. For instance, I can make fun of that guy because I have definitely been that guy.

So for this one, we travel to a boat on the harbor of Boston. Yes, it is a scenic site, but a couple weeks ago while on a boat cruise with many of my fellow students, it was also the site of the newest “That Guy” award winner.

The fellow, I didn’t catch his name per usual, was dancing in a large group of people on this boat. I was dancing too, a lot of people were, however, this fellow was dancing without a shirt on. Well actually, he had a “S-Medium” tee on.

What’s the big deal you ask? Most people on the boat were in formal affair. At the very least, khakis and a collared button down. This guy, had come dressed that way, but apparently the shirt got way too tight around his biceps and midway through “Shout” he decided that the whole boat needed to see how jacked and tan he was. Unfortunately for us, he was not tan. In fact, at first I thought they had thrown a disco ball on because of the blinding light.

Then I realized it was solely the man without a shirt on spinning around the dance floor. To top it all of, he was a sweaty mess.

No some might argue that he was way too hot and that’s why the shirt had to come off. I offer that this is no excuse on the grounds that the shirt would have at least absorbed the moisture that many of us around this guy were soaking up as a result of his shirtless prancing.

So to boil it all down, if you are ever on a hot dance floor on a boat cruise with a bunch of people that you barely know, please don’t strip down to the Smedium Tee. It’s not worth the snickers that you aren’t noticing and the blog post that some random guy is writing about you because you are “That Guy”.

Tetanus Shots, Law School Anxieties, and Baseball Road Trips

Boston College made me get a tetanus shot today. I felt like I was six. Seriously, after it was done I asked the Doc for a lollipop. She first explained that she was a nurse, a nice nurse at that, and that at Boston College Health Services they don’t offer lollipops but I could take a handy STD chart if I needed one. I passed.

First big ups to Jeff Stevens and Chris Gimenez, both of whom made it to the Big Leagues during my month long blogging break. Both are great guys and I am really excited for their careers and I can only hope for their continued successes.

So sorry for the that hibernation from this spot but I took the last month to try and get my life together as I make the transition from “professional” athlete, very loose quotes there, to first-year law student. I appreciate all the comments and emails and I have to say I am really excited that so many people have kept checking in on the blog.

Most people think I am a bit off my rocker to change gears like this but it really was a great decision. Let’s just hope I am saying that come November when I am studying for exams in Boston instead of playing in Venezuela.

I have to be honest, I miss baseball. However, I can honestly say that I am as happy as I have ever been and I am excited to get to this point in my life. I am going to start talking about my retirement over the next couple of weeks. I am also going to be blogging a lot more, not only about my own life, but about the transition, and about baseball both as a player and as an outside observer.

I’ll be back with a new That Guy Award in the next week and I will also be talking about the changes I am going to make to this little blog thing.

And to answer a baseball related question, someone asked how many hours I think I spent on the road over the past five years. You figure a minor league season is 142 games, and my first season doesn’t really count, so that’s about 560 games, half on the road, average road trip about 5 hours away; I’d say around 1400 hours on the road. I’ve actually missed some of the shenanigans from those experiences and I am certainly less well read without all that down time, but the bus itself is not something I miss.

Alright, off to bed at 11:30, you’ve got to be kidding right? Nope, I’m a student now and I’m trying to get used to school nights like every good nerd should. More to come…

The Draft- Part II

You hear a lot of experts who say that you cannot judge a draft until years later. Sure, you cannot give a conclusive grade to anything until hindsight clears it up.

For instance, hindsight now shows that the Twins big mistake (which a lot of people considered it at the time) by passing on Prior and taking Mauer was pure genius. The truth is, it was probably a little genius and a lot of luck.

The Twins couldn’t afford Prior and his asking price and Mauer was from home, and anyone that knows someone from Minnesota knows how proud they are of other Minnesotans. If Joe Mauer was from Texas, and Mark Prior felt like the Twins were a good fit for him, that might have changed everything.

The point is, the way the draft is set-up now, talent and future potential as rated by the clubs are major factors but not the only considerations in a pick.

On the flip side, if you continually pick players that other teams would not draft until later rounds, I don’t care how well they work out, you’ve lost value. Anyone in fantasy can tell you that Joe Nathan is a great closer, but if you take him in Round 2, he was a liability, as opposed to round 5 or 6 where he becomes an asset.

So it is with the draft. That’s why you can judge a draft right after it’s over. It’s also why that judgement needs to be comprehensive and not just based solely on talent evaluations alone.

Probably a worthless post but I don’t have a ton of worthwhile things to say and I promised myself I would write more now that I am no longer playing.

The Draft Is Flawed–Part I

I think I could write a book on the subject of the MLB Amateur Draft and I can promise you that it wouldn’t be pretty. I would rip that thing so far to shreds that people would barely recognize it. Even worse, I know without a shadow of a doubt that my version would work better, be more efficient, and probably lead for better results for 98% of minor league players and help every major league club. Fans would even understand it. I am going to get into this over a series of posts but first I wanted to get a little into the human component of the draft.

I should also point out my own biases, as I feel the media should do (on both sides, CNN and Fox), in the fact that I absolutely abhor the draft. I hate it. It actually made me cry once. True story. When I was coming out of Tufts in 2004, I was basically told by a few different scouts that it was a done deal and their club was going to take me. Sure enough I tortured myself and listened to nearly the entire second day of the draft only to come up empty. And that’s when it happened. In round 46 or one of those late rounds that matter only to a scout and kid with a dream, as my heart was breaking, I heard a team that had basically guaranteed me that they were going to take me take a relative of the scouting director. That’s when I realized the draft was a crock and I made myself go out and throw against a wall determined to find a job in baseball to relieve this injustice. So that’s my bias, a broken heart and a chip on my shoulder that has never gone away.

That back story aside, I know without a doubt if I was  scouting director, given the way the draft is set up and the way the minor leagues work I would not have drafted me either. And I would have been wrong to a degree, the exact same way that I believe 30 scouting directors were when I get passed on. However, that’s life and sure as I sit here writing this post, there is a player out there who’s heart has been crushed and will still find his way onto a big league roster. So if you are one of those players, prove everyone wrong, it is possible.

Out of 1500 picks, maybe 200 or so will end up in the big leagues at some point or another. Of that, 100 of those will be from the first 5 rounds, that leaves about 100 players out 1400 picks. The odds are exactly that; odds. As is cliche, the draft is not exact science, it cannot be so long as subjectivity is alive. So my point is that the draft from the outset is inherently flawed. Some may argue that the current system is the lesser of the evils but my point is that why settle. Baseball shouldn’t settle. It never has. That is why it is still relevant today. Every time the game takes a down swing, baseball seems to right itself. 

This is one thing that needs to be righted. This ship is sinking. With kids skipping out on high school, enrolling in junior colleges without ever attending class, parents spending there entire paychecks on kids coaches, travel teams, and showcases, and teams spending small fortunes on players that never make it out of A-ball, the system needs fixing. That much is clear to almost everyone and yet no one does anything about it.

That will change soon. When that next Collective Bargaining Agreement comes up, you can be sure that MLB is going to try to change the draft.  The Players Union, representing only those on 40-man rosters, will allow some concessions, throw a fit about slotting and then let MLB crunch everyone after round 3. They’ve done it before and they will do it again.

That’s where these next couple of pieces come in. I hope to get out in front of this whole thing and almost in advocates least get some ideas out there to help the player in the draft who isn’t going to be a Scott Boras super bonus baby. I’m for Mr. Irrelevant and every other player who signs for $1000 bucks and a plane ticket and I think there are a lot of people who are with me.

There Are Levels Of Losing…

It’s true. Despite what some motivational coaches say, not all losses are born equal. Just the thought that every game means the same is ridiculous on the surface. A loss in September might count just the same in the standings as a game in May but the momentum of that loss can be very different.

Then there is this type of losing. I’m still down, with the help of the Pirates trying to nurse myself back to health here shortly, and while I’ve been down, I felt more helpless then ever in my baseball career. The team I am on, the Altoona Curve, is close to one of the worst baseball teams in professional baseball according to the standings. Unfortunately for me, I am downright optimistic about the team.

We have some decent hitters, we have some decent pitching, we can play some D, we aren’t a stupid bunch, and yet we cannot for the life of us win. It’s almost embarrassing how many games we’re losing. After coming from winning team after winning team, it’s draining me like crazy.

I know that people have said that the minor leagues are all about “player development” and I understand this argument. But, and I truly believe this, part of development is learning how to win. That’s where we are having a major hang up as members of the 2009 Altoona Curve. It isn’t any one person, it isn’t team chemistry, it’s knowing how to finish games and win.

We’re competitive in almost every game. Every game it seems is close until that one moment where the other team just breezes past and ends up closing the game out with a 5-3, 6-4, 9-6 win. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it but I think it really comes down to pure, straight up confidence. Winning teams believe they are going to win.

At this point last year I was on a team that went down 10-0 in the fourth inning, had two pitchers left, and somehow we won a game 11-10. The next day, with an uber-prospect on the mound and facing a 6-0 deficit in the seventh, our leadoff hitter looks at the bench and goes, “6-0…matters”. That same player is now in the big leagues. That confidence is what propels players and teams to go beyond talent and come together.

Now, as an injured player, in an organization that I am just becoming familiar with, I am trying to figure out how I can bring this confidence to a team that probably needs that type of injection. We’ve all talked about it, no one is giving up, but the losing has to stop. The losing has to be replaced by the only thing it can be replaced by; winning. Simple theory; one win leads to the confidence for another, and then another, and pretty soon the team figures out it can win and this is how.

We’re at rock bottom now but tomorrow starts June, when the men separate from the boys, and I am hoping, betting, and praying that June will be the salvation of both the 2009 Altoona Curve and for me personally. I have confidence, and where confidence abounds, winning usually follows.

Anyone but Kobe…

This is random but I want to say that I could care less who wins the NBA Finals as long as the self-titled “Black Mamba” Kobe Bryany doesn’t take it home. Either the Magic or the Cavs, although I am a little impartial to the Cavs being an Ohio boy, but I cannot get over how little people remember Kobe’s faults.

Luckily it’s going to be real tough for Kobe to win the NBA title with the entire ESPN Crew hanging all over him. This guy did some pretty bad stuff, and yes he was acquitted in a legal sense, but I still think he’s a selfish prima-donna and I challenge anyone to prove me wrong with facts.

I understand that he is a public figure and sometimes things get taken out of context but this guy cares about himself only. You can even see it in his eyes that every time Luke Walton messes up he wants to “bitch” slap him. I might not know the guy but you can get a good read on people in the heat of the moment and you can tell me I’m hard on Kobe but this guy just doesn’t deserve another title.

So here’s hoping either Bron Bron or Superman can take down ring one, they both seem like decent people who I can at least respect.

Sorry for the blast but this Sportscenter love-fest on Kobe has me all riled up after a four hour game in Trenton.

My Malibu Fred and Life in Altoona…

I am not actually able to pitch right now. For the first time in my career, I’m actually dealing with a little muscle injury that has kept me out for the past couple of days. I should be good to go soon but between my pretty terrible performance my first week, and now this injury thing my second week, my time with the Pirates has not been great so far. However, the training staff and strength coach here have been really good and helped me to learn a lot about my body and how to prevent stuff in the future so I guess there is a decent takeaway. Nonetheless, I am frustrated with both my health situation and my performance, but I am confident both will change.

Now on to the post…this down time has given me a chance to look back on some of the things I have been overlooking that past couple of years while I’ve been so focused on pitching every night. None the least of which is the personalities of the fans at games. Today, since I wasn’t playing, I volunteered myself for the Hot Seat at Education Day where kids from different schools could ask me personal questions on the jumbo-tron. I figured the least I could do for the team was to do this considering the game started at 10:30 AM and this Hot Seat Q and A was at 10.

The questions that I received ranged from a girl asking my shoe size, 13 (no comment on anything else), to my favorite reality show. However, it was a kid named Zach who asked me the most bizarrecreative (I wanted to be a real blogger so I used the strike out font there, did you notice, did you notice…) question of the bunch; Do you have a nickname for your car?

The honest answer is no and that’s what I told him but I said do you want to nickname my car and he decided to call it Fred. My 1998 Chevy Malibu’s Nickname is going to be Fred. I bring this up because while some people consider my lifestyle to be glamorous, I honestly don’t know what I would do without ole’ Fred. 160,000 miles, a little rust here and there, but it has literally taken me everywhere I have gone in the minor leagues. My mom, dad, brother, girlfriend have all driven my car to me at some point so that I could have it during the season. Without old Fred, I would be stuck and so if I every right a book on this journey of mine, I might just have to name it How to Pack A Chevy Malibu And Other Stories of A Baseball Nomad….

So that was my day, Q and A with a bunch of sixth graders and a whole lot of working out trying to get myself better. I did however, since we have had like four day games in a row, take some time and vary my routine. Instead of Chili’s to Go tonight, I upgraded with a little Outback Steakhouse to go. One good thing about a bad economy, the prices at these restaurants are going way down. I just spent 11 dollars on a great steak dinner with a salad and sweet potato (Should I Dan Quayle it?). Can’t beat that. Yep, this is living in Altoona.

We’re off to Trenton tomorrow and you better believe that I am excited to see Jersey up close and personal. There are bound to be some stories from that place.

Side Note–I just ran spell check over this thing and for the first time, maybe ever, I actually spelled the word restaurant correctly. This has been my spelling nemesis for years. I needed to share.

That Guy- Baseball Edition

It’s been a while so it’s time for new “That Guy” award.

Today we’re going to stick with the baseball theme and I want to give the award to the guy who handed me an Anderson Machado card to sign in Bowie the other day.

Now as you know, the fans are my favorite part of this whole professional baseball experience. I especially love the high school/college age kids who are still working, hoping, and dreaming of making it themselves. However, if there is one type of fan I sometimes get upset with, it’s the Autograph Hawk.

Please don’t mistake me, there is a huge difference between an Autograph Hawk and an Autograph Seeker. I love the guys that come to the ballpark early and try to get their entire team set signed. Those people, there are some great women autograph seekers out there too, are some my favorites. They enjoy the game, love interacting with the players, and are genuinely a pleasure to deal with. However, in each group there is one or two who could care less who you are and what you do, they are there for money and cards they turn around and try flip on Ebay (although I don’t know how lucrative that business is these days). They are the ones that have zero Randy Newsom’s in their collection to be signed but three sheets of Joe First Rounder. They come equipped with all sorts of Sharpies and next to zero personality most of the time. And they usually try to cut in front of the best fans who are too nice to mention anything about it to the overzealous card peddler.

The biggest problem that I have with these guys is that often times they don’t even try to match the picture on the card to the person they are yelling at. In fact, I hate to admit this, but last year one of these Autograph Hawks asked me to sign a card of one of our top prospect’s and so I did. I never told the prospect about it but I am sure he would probably laugh and then feel bad for the fellow who’s card I ruined. Either way that guy is now the proud owner of Randy Newsom signed Wes Hodges card.

Back to Bowie. This guy was definitely a Hawk. Three times I walked by him for certain reasons and each time he yelled a new name at me. Brad (a former first rounder), Steve (a forty man roster guy), and finally Anderson (a Latin player who has some Big League time).

With the Anderson call, I finally acknowledged him. Sure enough he held out the card. Probably should have known better. Just taken one little peek at the card. In all fairness, Anderson looked very Gringo-esque in the picture. That doesn’t change the fact though that I am a 6’2″ 200 lb. corn-fed Midwestern white pitcher. Not a 5’10″ 175 lb. slick-fielding Venezuelan infielder.

I was so amused that I even gave the guy a chance by joking “that’s a good picture of me, huh”. He chuckled, made a quick comment, and never looked down. Not until I finally started laughing as handed me the Sharpie did he look at the card and realize how off he was.

Of course this then led to a very awkward exchange where he basically mumbled a quick apology but forcefully took the card back before I could John Hancock it but not before he became the newest member of the “That Guy” club.

Congrats Bob Autograph Hawk, you’re infamous for upstaging all the great autograph seeking fans out there. And too all those great Autograph seeking fans, thanks for coming out, it’s always been a dream of mine to have my own baseball card, and signing those cards for true fans is one the highlights of my day.