It’s August 9th. Exactly one month before we leave for camp. I have hardly missed a day in the last 8 months. But I need to recommit myself to my training. It suddenly struck me, I’m a long shot, a no one– not Israeli enough to be considered for one of the few roster spots reserved for Israelis, and not good enough to be considered for one of the spots reserved for Americans. And my knee hurts. I didn’t want to say anything, but ever since I caught those 4 innings (just 4 innings!), it’s been giving me fits. I can’t squat. And after I run it tightens up and aches like hell. I am going to see Doc Root about it. But my spirit is strong. I cannot be stopped. I am the Jewish Mohammed Ali, the Black James Brown, and the Asian Shirley Temple. I am the Champ. The buddha. I am free! There have been people that are better at baseball than I am, better at writing, and better at dancing and painting rocks with better collections of gold jewels, but there has never been anyone better at all of these things. I am the only one. The King of Jewish Baseball. So kiss my ass. Who needs a knee? A little pain never hurt anyone. You’re going to have to put one in my head and nail the coffin shut to keep me off the field. I’ll lubricate my knees with the warm blood of the defeated and move forward. I’ll eat rocks and shit dirt. I’ll show this world what love is. Jupiter, Florida, prepare yourselfs, KOJB is coming!
DODGER FOR A DAY, by the…
7 AugI’m baaaaaaaaaaack. In New York. On the internet. KOJB. Posing for my photos. Pondering all of my options. Running sprints in Maria Hernandez Park. Lifting weights at Richie’s. Preparing. Group workout tomorrow in the park with the High-School Crew. Ground balls. Boom! Fly balls. Boom! Tee work. Bam! Sprints. Bucky! Soft toss. Bang! Double play feeds. Boom! There will be fireworks and magic, people.
In serious news, we had tryouts Sunday for Team Jew.S.A. 16 kids showed up. A manageable number. But not enough. One came all the way from Kansas. One from Oregon. One from San Fransisco.
We will take between 15 and 18 players to Israel next summer for the Maccabi games. Of the 16 kids that came to the LA tryout, depending what happens in Chicago and New York, 5 will likely make the team, and 2 or 3 will be named as alternates. Chicago tryouts are in two weeks. And New York the week after that. We should have a total of between 50 and 75 players trying out.
Tryouts were at a high-school field in Encino. Josh and I got there early to set up the registration table and get the field ready though it was already good-to-go thanks to Rocco who takes care of the facility. From the first workout, it appears most of the kids who make the team will be able to play some level of college baseball. I was so feverishly focused at tryouts that I forgot to take a picture. If I had remembered, it would appear below.
***
I got to be a Dodger for a day Saturday. Matt got me an all access field pass. Can you believe it? – it was the King of All Jewish Baseball’s first time on a Major League field during batting practice!
We arrived around 1:30 and walked into the clubhouse. It was modest compared to the clubhouse in Minnesota where Matt played before. I wanted to stare at everything but knew I should not so mostly refrained. Matt had a lot of gear in his locker– uniforms, 8 pairs of spikes – and he flipped me a brand new Nike glove with his name on it. Kershaw was starting that day and was sitting at a chair in front of his locker two spaces down from Matt. Matt walked me out to the dugout. He had to get ready to throw his bullpen so I sat and watched some of the guys do their work in left field.
The Dodgers recently aquired Shane Victorino, Hanley Ramirez, and Joe Blanton. Blanton was running sprints in the outfield. Jerry Hairston was playing with his son in center field. Hairston’s grandfather, father, and brother all played Major League Baseball, and he was prepping the next generation for what seems to be his inevitable fate. Some fans who were on a tour of the stadium spotted Matt in the dugout and screamed, “Holy Shit, Bro, It’s Matt Guerrier. Can we get a picture with you man?” I watched Matt’s pen. He threw 30 pitches. He looked good and said his arm didn’t hurt.
Game time was 6:05. I kept an eye on the clock to see what the daily routine is like for these guys. Most of the players arrived by 2pm, 4 hours before game time. Next guy out, after Blanton, was Treanor (His wife is currently playing beach volley ball for the United States in the Olympics, and her match was playing on the TVs in the clubhouse after the game). Treanor threw about 20 to seconds base, getting faster and stronger as he went, 10 to third, and blocked for another 10 minutes. Steve Yeager, the Dodger’s catching coach, came out early too to work with Treanor, and I talked to him in the dugout.
Yeager caught for the Dodgers for 15 years. And he appeared as third base coach Duke Temple in Major League, the film! Here he is waving Willy Mays Hayes around to score at the end!
He is also a Jew! He told me he converted 22 years ago. Jesus. How does this keep happening to me? The power of my Jewish Baseball Magic has grown too strong. Even crazier, he had a 17 year-old son, who, after explaining why I was in California, being the King of Jewish Baseball that is, came to Team Jew.S.A. tryouts the following morning.
At 3:05, 3 hours before game time, all the pitchers came out together to warm-up, run, and throw before going back into the clubhouse for their daily meeting. After pitchers, position players came out slowly.
BP started at 3:45. Ramirez and Victorino came out together and stuck close, the new guys. Dee Gordon, the starting short stop until a few days ago when Ramirez arrived, was taking ground balls when they came up the dugout steps and the two of them exchanged a look without any friendly acknowledgment. Mattingly came in the dugout and a group of reporters surrounded him for their feed, a media briefing on the state of the team– Kershaw, the new guys, the San Fransisco Giants who are 1/2 a game up on the Dodgers in the NL West.
The players both did and did not work hard during warm-ups. It appeared very casual. But was not. They have different gears. These guys are special. They have a gift. And they do this every single day. Most of them wore sneakers during batting practice. Matt shagged fly balls in right-center field. The fat, gay guy from Modern Family was throwing out the first pitch so I hung out on the top step of the dugout with him and watched home-runs fly.
Rizzo from the Cubs looked best in BP. Guy’s a monster and was just smashing the ball the other way with ease. Hitting group #2 for the Dodgers wasn’t bad either– Kemp, Ethier, Ramirez.
I sat behind home plate in the second deck for the game. Kershaw threw 7. Kemp homered. Dodgers won 3-1. Matty’s spot came up in the 8th inning, Dodgers winning 2-1. He normally would throw that inning. But he was in the dugout in a sweatshirt with some other pitchers and watched Ronald Belisario throw a 1,2,3 inning.
I just looked up Belisario. You’ve got to check out this guy’s wikipedia. It reads like a wrap sheet. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Belisario. Between 2009 and 2012 with the Dodgers, he has shown up late to Spring Training every year. He failed a drug test for cocaine. He has been issued a DUI. And he’s served multiple suspensions for failing MLB drug tests for unspecified substances.
After the game, we took the elevator up the the top floor to the players parking lot, and headed home. Just another day for a couple of Los Angeles Dodgers like ourselves…
Click this link, or be turned into fine art…
LOS ANGELES
2 AugKing Of goes over 2,000 readers! Boom. Follow KOJB on twitter @kingofJbaseball. It will drastically improve your lot in life, promise– after all, you will be in the company of royalty. We’re taking this all the way to Jupiter, and back. 1 million readers is the goal.
Not a lot of team news. MLB.com ran this story a couple days ago about Coach Green and the team…
http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20120731&content_id=35915560&vkey=news_mlb&c_id=mlb
It is true, what you’ve heard, I left the comforts of my palace in New York City to fly on my aircraft, Jew Force One, across the land all the while looking down on my minions.
I ask you now, what is better than this place? – this Los Angeles, as it’s called, with its wide boulevards lined with impossibly tall trees that look like dinosaurs and its perfectly manicured lawns and its white people. It’s like a heaven. I am considering ordering my concubines here to build me a new palace, with a baseball field in the middle. We’ll call it… Yankee Stadium.
I have some shocking news. It turns out I am not the first Baseball King. In fact, as most young royals eventually come to terms with, I am simply one in a long line of hilarious, sick, self-obsessed demigods. There have been two men before me who shared a similar title, Clown Prince of Baseball. And here’s the kicker. They were both Jews. So now I, current sovereign leader of Jewish Baseball Clowning, must pay my respects to those that came before me, KOJB the 1st, and KOJB the 2nd, if you will.
First, there was this fella’, Al Schacht…
Schacht played three years in the Major Leagues compiling a perfect 14-0 record in his career. But he was best known for his ability to imitate other players and entertain the crowd from the third base coaching box earning him the nickname, Clown Prince of Baseball. He coached 13 in the Bigs.
Then, there was Max Patkin, the real Clown Prince of Baseball.
Patkin performed over 4,ooo times in 51 years as the Clown Prince. He even appeared as himself in Bull Durham. Here he is, doing his thing… the one, the only, Max Patkin.
They don’t understand, Max– the love, the pain, the tears of the Jewish Baseball Clown. But I hear you. Brother, one day we will unite in the Great Baseball Hall of Fame in the Sky, Los Angeles I believe it is called. I’ll see you there. Until then, I’ll make sure the legacy of Jewish Baseball Clowning is safe. Humbly, KOJB… the 3rd.
TEAM JEW.S.A.
31 JulDo not be alarmed! It is I, the King of All Jewish Baseball, only with a new header photo. And that is just the beginning, a sample if you will, from the upcoming photo series and film, The King of Jewish Baseball, by Danny Dwyer, himself the King of All Slovenian/Irish Filmmaking. Here is the full image…
I apologize for the delay since my last post. It’s been 5, almost 6, days. But I am preparing something very special for you, The Greatest Ejection of All Time! – From Saturdays’s game with the A’s in the Zorrilla. It’s not quite ready. So we will proceed…
There was an article about Shlomo in the Wall Street Journal yesterday! Check it out. Bandito!
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10000872396390444226904577557233510814236.html
It’s Tuesday, July 31st. I am going to LA tomorrow. As King of All Jewish Baseball, I was the logical choice for head coach of the Junior National Team for the 2013 Maccabi Games, and we have our West Coast tryouts on Sunday. We have three tryouts– LA, Chicago, and New York, all in August (the 5th, the 19th, and the 26th respectively). We’ll name the team in September. The Games are in Israel July of 2013.
The Juniors baseball team is theoretically comprised of the best Jewish baseball players in the country 18 years-old or younger. There have been some good players and coaches in the past. Max Fried who played on the team last time around, 4 years-ago, in 2009, was just selected 7th overall in this year’s draft. Our team should win the gold medal, another demonstration on the workings of global baseball. Like our team for the WBC, we have access to a better pool of players. I hope. We’ll see Sunday. The difference is these kids will be Americans representing America in Israel, not Americans representing Israel in America.
I’ll see Matt in LA. Matt and I spent our formative years together playing ball and rapping our hearts out to Biggie Smalls and Dr. Dre and the Wu-Tang Clan in Shaker Heights, Ohio where we’re from. When we were 16, at a tournament in Kentucky, Matt struck a guy out on a 3-2 bases loaded curveball and I thought right then that he would be a major league baseball player. And he is!
California, America, prepare yourselfs! KOJB is coming.
THE PEDRIN ZORRILLA SEMI-PROFESSIONAL BASEBALL LEAGUE
25 JulThe day is Wednesday, July 25th. It is 5:03 pm East Coast Standard Time. 46 days until camp. 56 until the tournament. My name is the King of All Jewish Baseball, prepare to die.
I trained yesterday in Maria Hernandez and at Richies, and today in Central Park.
6 games in the next four days, again. Thursday (tomorrow), Friday, and Sunday with the Thunder Dogs. And Saturday double-dip with the A’s.
I did some research on the Zorrilla, and it turns out it’s not as hidden as I thought it was. I will now, using the power of copying and pasting and captions and a little Jewish Baseball Magic, present the very things you could yourself find if you were crazy or bored enough to google “Zorrilla baseball”, only in a slightly more logical order.
Here’s an article from the New York Times.
http://www.nytimes.com/1998/05/03/nyregion/the-last-chance-season.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm
And this, from the Alicia Patterson Foundation, a blog and American journalism fund. Both good stories. The pictures are great.
http://aliciapatterson.org/stories/lost-new-york-baseballs-latin-ghetto
Pedrin Zorrilla owned the Santurce Crabbers in the Puerto Rican Professional League in the 40’s and 50’s and was also a scout for several Major League organizations and a politician and apparently an all around amazing person…
And our league is named after him. According to this clip, shot to the highest quality professional videographic standards, this is the 61st year for the Pedrin Zorrilla League! (Pardon the absurdly long intro…)
And look, a sweet promo…
If you can bear any more of the fast paced action and the mind numbing special effects, then YOU MUST check out this strike three call from the announcer around the 2:30 mark!
It appears, my team, the A’s, are the stars of the league. If you didn’t notice, we’re in the green in the previous clip. Here are a couple of our guys in the dugout. I do not know what anyone is saying, and no one is paying any attention to the game until there’s a pop-up near the dugout at the 35 second mark when the video turns off…
So it appears the King of Jewish Baseball, after 40 years of wandering the desert, naked, has found his home amongst his fellow baseball cast-offs, the Okland A’s (of East New York), fallen superstars of the Pedrin Zorrilla Semi-Professional Baseball League.
THE FUNDRAISER
23 JulThunder Dogs win Saturday. A’s win Sunday. Good weekend. Another 6 games this week. Day off today. Had to catch the last 4 innings Saturday and the knees instantly turned to dry gears.
We had the fundraiser dinner last night at the City Winery, Shlo’s place. There were 8 tables of guest between giant silver tanks of wine. Peter flew in from Israel to host and give a presentation. Check the new promo video for a new stadium…
The Winery doubles– triples, as a restaurant and music venue as well. From my seat in the wine room, I could see into the main room where, on stage, none other than Kenny Fucking Loggins was performing. Can you believe it, the King of All Jewish Baseball, and Kenny Loggins, King of All Movie Soundtrack Theme Songs (I’m Alright/Caddy Shack, Danger Zone/Top Gun, and Footloose/Footloose), in the same place at the same time? This was a truly magical evening.
King of Jewish Baseball over 1,500 readers! Follow the KOJB and Team Israel on our Journey to Jupiter on twitter @kingofJbaseball.
And support Israel baseball here…
HOW TO BE A PROFESSIONAL AMATEUR
21 JulRain out. Our game tonight was canceled.
Before we get to our instructional portion of today’s lesson, allow me to point out that you are reading the musings of the genius no longer known only as the King of Jewish Baseball, but as a citizen of New York State who is legally permitted, if accompanied by a licensed driver, of course, to operate a motor vehicle. That’s right, folks. You heard correctly. We did it. We got our learners permit! – And it only took 5 more hours and $250. I paid the seatbelt ticket ($180), passed the written test, got the photo, passed the eye test, and was given this piece of paper, my temporary permit ($75). The ID will come in the mail in two weeks. All I have to do is take a 5 hour driving class and pass my road test and I will be free to speed profusely across the highways of the nation.
Before we move on, allow me to point out that if population sample at the DMV is an accurate representation of the whole, we, America, are doomed. Is there a separate bureau for fully functional members of society that I do not know about? Because from what I could see there were none in attendance, myself, King of Jewish Baseball, excluded of course. Was I in the wrong office? – Was this the ESL DMV? I have clearly been spending too much time with smart, dynamic people and have lost touch with the average Brooklynite, a 14 year-old Southeast Asian boy addicted to scratching his arms and fast food. If you are ever feeling comfortable or complacent or are starting to believe that humanity in general is headed in the right direction, just take a trip to the DMV. You’ll be filled with a new sense of horror and social purpose. This cannot continue. We gotta get this ship on track. Do you hear me? ON TRACK.
I feel like hell today. Not sure if it’s all the time at the DMV, or the rain, or the fact that I struck out swinging to end the game last night.
I represented the winning run. Top of the 9th. They were winning 6-4. Neil and Shea singled and were on 1st and 2nd – 2 outs. All game I had been fouling off good pitches to hit. My swing didn’t feel right. In the first inning I had sac bunted “on my own”, meaning I did not receive the bunt sign from the third base coach. There were no outs, runners on 1st and 2nd, and I thought it was a good time to try and control the game and put a bunt down. I will not be hitting third in the WBCQ if I am hitting at all. I will potentially be asked to do things like bunt and it was a good chance to work on sacrificing in a live game. Anyways, not to over think it, bunting in that situation represents a certain lack of aggression which is not a great way to start a game off. The hitter after me, WILL SMITH, hit a home-run to right center field that put us up 3-0 and rendered my decision all the more puzzling. Maybe we could have been up 4-0. Maybe Will could have grounded into a double play and we only score 1 in the inning. Who knows?
Either way, they scored 2 in their half of the first, and were winning 6-4 in the 9th. In my at-bats following the bunt, I grounded out hard to short, hit a fly ball off the fence in left field (it could have been caught) – off the fence is becoming the standard, struck out looking, and was preparing to strike out swinging at a high fastball to end the game though I couldn’t have known it at the time. I was thinking what I always think, HR. I am not trying to hit home runs per se, but when I visualize between pitches, I see a home-run to center or right center field. Would have been sweet. But I fouled off a first pitch fastball that in hindsight was my best shot. I can feel my front side “pulling off” when I stride and it’s throwing everything off. Felt it all night. So I just went to the park to hit off the tee, and to Richie’s to work on some things.
It would be great to be a big leaguer, wouldn’t it? – the travel is sweet, great gear, trainers, anything you want. But not all of us are lucky or good enough, so we settle for the next best thing. Ladies and gentleman, without further ado, I, King of All Jewish Baseball, now present… The step-by-step guide… How To Be A Professional Amateur Athlete.
As a pro-am, you have to be your own trainer, bus driver, and equipment manager. Here is how it’s done….
It starts with The Bag. There are no lockers and no clubhouses when you’re a pro-am. Your bag is your clubhouse. So get a big bag with wheels. They’re a bit childish, and they sucks to haul on the subway, but you need it. Now get your gear in there. Here is what I have in my bag right now…
From the bottom right…
2, wood bats
1, batting tee
1, rubber band with baseball attached for warm-ups
1, weighted baseball (black, you can barely see it) also for warm-ups
1, crumpled up batting practice jacket in case it rains
1, pair of spikes
1, glove (should have 2)
(the first aid section)…
2, wraps for quick repairs
1, roll of tape to secure repairs
a handful of disinfectant wipes
1, jar of advil (not pictured)
1, small bag of baseballs
1, batting helmet
1, shin guard
1, compression sleeve (not pictured)
2, pairs of batting gloves
2, small plastic bags (one fore personal items; phone, cash, keys… and one for cameras to film at-bats and for pen and paper for notes)
2, large plastic bags for trasport of dirty laundry
Which brings us to, step 2, your laundry. Your uniform is important. You have to look like a pro without any of the benefits of actually being one. Have multiples of everything; jocks, pants, sliders, socks, under shirts… so you can get through a couple days without having to wash your stuff. And plan wisely. For example, I have two jocks. I like one better than the other. So I have to choose days in advance which of my upcoming games is most important because that is the day I want to wear my good jock. This may seem extreme even to some of you who play baseball and understand the superstition involved – all baseball players look to the spirit-world for good fortune, but these my friends are simply the inner mechanics of a baseball genius at work. Always carry your uniform in a separate plastic bag within your big bag as to not lose small items and to make the laundry transfer into your large laundry bag after the game as easy as possible. Compartmentalize!
Step 3, the process. The most important. Most pros are very devoted to process. And they can be, it’s there job. But the pro-am has to be particular devout, because in addition to almost being an elite athlete, you have an actual life doing such trivial things as earning a living and maintaining your status as a licensed driver. Process is everything. Since we got rained out and are not playing an actual physical game tonight, let’s let’s play a virtual game in the great abyss called the internet located behind the screens of our computers. Tonight’s game was supposed to be a 7:30 start. I would have left my apartment in Brooklyn, giant bag in tow, at 4:30, got to Dave’s on the Upper East Side at 5:30, drove about an hour north, and arrived to the park at 6:30, one hour before game time…
Change behind the dugout into your uniform minus jersey (the jersey will go on later, before infield/outfield). Go down the left or right field line depending on which dugout you’re in. Carry with you your glove, your rubber band, your weighted baseball, and two regular baseballs and place them all in foul territory down the line. Jog twice from the line to the center field fence and back. Go through your dynamic warm-ups; high-knees, lunges, shuffles… Warming-up is the hard part. It will get easier. Go through your static stretches; right leg over, throwing arm across… You should be warmed-up now and ready to crank it up. You still have 30 minutes ’til game time. Find a good spot along the fence and do your rubber band and weighted ball work. Go through your core and coordination routine. Do short hops. Throw. Depending on the day, long toss. Carry your warm-up gear back to the dugout. Get your jersey on. Take 10-20 dry swings, bottom hand, top hand, stress lower body mechanics. Get ready for infield/outfield. Take infield/outfield. After infield/outfield, watch them take infield/outfield. Who has a good arm? – Who doesn’t? And watch their pitcher throw in the bullpen to see what you can see. 2 sprints in the outfield when umps and coaches are going over ground rules at home plate. Get the line-up. Game time. Hope for the best. You’ve prepared, but you know you are never completely in control. Anything could happen – a bad hop, a bad call. Stop thinking about results. Commit to effort. Great effort and great energy are the only acceptable options. Never take a pitch off. If you take a pitch off, the baseball gods will kill you. Stay focused. Almost done. Stay focused. Commit to effort. Focus. Stop looking at the sist on the third base coach’s eyelid. Stay focused. Don’t mind the train going by in the background, or the shitty lights, or the shitty field. Just keep going. After the game, change behind the dugout back into your regular clothes so you don’t have to bear the humiliation that is wearing a baseball uniform on the train. Drive an hour back to the city. Subway back to Brooklyn. Drag the bag home. Eat. Shower. Ice. Throw a towel on the floor and do your rehab excersizes so you can do it all again tomorrow without too much pain. And finally, sleep. It’s 1:00am. It took just over eight hours. Try not to think about the strike out. You’ll get ’em tomorrow.
THE TOURNAMENT
19 Jul53 days.
I trained in Central Park with the high-school crew today. It was hot. 103 degrees.
I went back to the DMV too. In this blog post, I will eruditely encapsalate all that is the World Baseball Classic for you using only words and images. But first, the DMV.
I was shaking when I walked in. I had all my documents. But the DMV is cryptonite to King of All Jewish Baseball.
Step 1 was turn in application to window 39. There was a short line. Without anyone looking or speaking directly to me, I was handed a test. This was it, THE WRITTEN TEST. I was not expecting this at all! I’m not sure what I thought would happen. I had never gotten this far into the process. The magic of the DMV is their ability to suspend all things in a paralytic state of confusion like the moment after a poisonous saber toothed jellyfish strikes its prey. When I am at the DMV, I’m terrified I will miss my turn, and simultaneously have no idea what it is I am supposed to do when my turn finally comes. I pulled myself together for the test. Looking around, my reading comprehension level was definitely higher than the 15 year-old kid next to me who couldn’t figure out to fit both the test and his bag of McDonalds on the desk, the woman in the burqa whose native language was not English I may have wrongly assumed, and the short bearded man whose wife was cheering him on from on the other side of the glass, all which made me feel better. I read my answers over a second time looking for stupid mistakes before I handed in my test – can you imagine? – the King of All Jewish Baseball failing his written test.
Passed. Boom. Well on my way to a learners permit.
Step two. Take a number, your documents, and the stamped test to the room next door and wait for your number to be called. I can do that. It’s 100 degrees outside. At least it’s cool in the DMV. I had F920. I slowly figured out their clandestine system. Three windows were responsible for learners permits. They were on 865, 55 people ahead of me, but it’s alright, numbers are moving fast, and I’m getting a license! An hour passed. Eventually my number came up, I got my photo taken, and was handed all of my documents plus test plus new documents in a neatly paper clipped packet.
Step three. After your photo, take a new number, your documents with your stamped test and new stamped documents, and report back to a new window when your new number is called. 45 minutes. But this was it. The last window. Where you pick up your new learners permit. I handed over my packet. I took, and passed, the eye test – the written test, the photo, the eye test – all staples of license getting. I was set! I waited for the ID to print out of the machine.
Step 4. Receive the crushing blow. The lady at the booth looked up and said, “We have a suspension on you. Unpaid ticket from 2004. You’ll have to go to the traffic violations office, but they’re closed, and we’re closed, so even if you went over there you couldn’t get back in here. And we can’t keep the test. You’ll have to start all over once you pay the fine,” and she dropped my test in the garbage next to her desk. Nooooooooooooooooooooo. The seat belt! 2004. I wasn’t even driving. I was in the front seat and got a seatbelt fine and never paid it. Her words momentarily liquified my bones with emotion and I nearly lost consciousness. I was able to work up the strength to ask, “Could I have been told this four hours ago when I started the process?” She looked at me and said, very simply, “No. There is no way.” Crushed again. For now. I will return tomorrow and I will triumph.
But this blog post is not really about the DMV. Its about the tournament! – The World Baseball Classic.
The World Baseball Classic ain’t no joke. There have been two WBCs, 2006, and 2009. Japan has won both beating Cuba and Korea in the finals respectively. The Olympics stopped including baseball and softball in 2008, so the WBC is now the undisputed champion of international baseball tournaments. It is the World Cup for baseball. There used to be something literally called the World Cup of Baseball where the winners of the Euro Championships, and the North American Champioships, and the Asian Championships, and so on, would meet and play. But the WBC is now the only sanctioned elite world tournament.
The same 16 teams have competed in the first two WBCs. But this time, WBCI, the committee responsible for organizing the tournament, invited 12 new countries to try and qualify. Enter Team Israel, and a bunch of other fringe baseball countries trying their best to put together a competitive team. The bottom 4 countries from ’09 are joining the 12 new countries making a field of 16 playing to qualify for those final 4 spots in the tournament. 16 team, 4 groups of 4, winner of each group qualifies. These are the groups and where and they’ll be playing.
Group 1
Regensburg, Germany
- CANADA
- CZECH REPUBLIC
- GERMANY
- GREAT BRITAIN
Group 2
Jupiter, Florida, USA
- FRANCE
- ISRAEL
- SOUTH AFRICA
- SPAIN
Group 3
Taipei, Taiwan
- CHINESE TAIPEI
- NEW ZEALAND
- PHILIPPINES
- THAILAND
Group 4
Panama City, Panama
- BRAZIL
- COLOMBIA
- NICARAGUA
- PANAMA
So the four host locations are, from east to west, Tawain, Germany, Florida, and Panama. Once the qualifiers are done and the winners are named, the actual Classic will take place in March of 2013 at which point Major League players can join their countries.
The countries you would expect to be the best because of their players, the United States and the Dominican Republic, have not medaled (the US finished 4th in ’09), which says a lot about what it takes to win in international play. Mainly, from what I can gather, you need pitching which is no mystery. Daisuke Matsuzaka from the Red Sox has won the WBC MVP twice, earning 3 wins in each tournament including pitching and winning the final game both times.
I am not sure which is more difficult, getting a license, or winning the World Baseball Classic. I would say they’re equally monumental accomplishments. And I, King of Jewish Baseball, am, to my knowledge, proudly, the first man to ever attempt both at the same time. It will not be easy. I will need your help. I will have to face Daisuke, and the dragon at the DMV. But together, we will earn international baseball supremacy, and our learners permit.
I have four games in the next four days – Thursday, Friday, Saturday with the T-Dogs, Sunday with the A’s. Time to crank it up, again. Will let you know what happens. Now, I must rest, big day at the DMV tomorrow.
THE DMV!
18 Jul54 Days ’til camp! 64 days to the tournament!
KING OF JEWISH BASEBALL WENT OVER 1,OOO VIEWS TODAY! – according to the stats I check every hour or so. Almost to 1,200. The blog is consuming me. Help. It, along with my play on the field, dictates my mood lately along with obviously the amount of gold jewelry I am wearing at the time.
Baseball Bandits united in the park today.
Went to the DMV today too. Now, before your very eyes, ladies and gentleman, I am going to attempt the magic of not only being the King of All Jewish Baseball, but a legal driver in the great State of New York.
I do not have a license. It expired. I never renewed. Six years ago.
For those of you who do not live in New York, this may seem insane, and maybe it is, but let me tell you, it’s never been an inconvenience. Just last week I rented a car, drove to a barn upstate where I DJed a very nice wedding, and returned the car, all without incident. I am personally of the opinion that I do not need a piece of plastic to tell me when to drive, for I am a very good driver. But I figure my luck is used up. And it would only be appropriate that as King of Jewish Baseball and a professional blogger that if I at any point I am asked to drive the Bandit Mobile in a parade, or rent a car from a legitimate establishment, that I legally be allowed to do so. Lord knows, I have tried before, and failed.
Two years ago Joe and Carry were getting married in Wisconsin. I had a flight. But my passport was set to expire, and I didn’t have ID. I went to the DMV to get a license a simple, naive, care-free man. Two weeks later, I was paranoid and broken, writing my local congress person, begging for an ID.
I went to the DMV that dreaded day, nothing in hand. I was quickly crushed. You can’t just walk into the DMV like that – It’s war in there, and leave with a license. It had been more than two year since my license had expired, so I had to start all over, get a permit, and pass the written and road tests.
I asked if I could get a New York State ID. The answer was yes! I just needed to score 6 points on the chart to prove my identity. 2 points for a passport. 2 points for a social security card. And so on.
I prepared for my next trip. I had my passport. And a couple pieces of mail.
But my passport expired within the 6 month limit. Rejected! They told me to get a social security card.
I went to the social security offices. I was told that because my passport was going to expire, they could not issue me a new card, as I had no other form of ID. They told me to get a note from a doctor verifying my age and identity. I am serious. I had a doctor write me a letter confirming I was me and returned for the card.
Back to the DMV for my new New York State ID. Social Security card. A birth certificate my dad had driven to the hospital where I was born in New Hampshire for! No one man alone could accomplish something as difficult as being issued a New York State photo ID. This was a family thing now. And I was still trying to push the soon to be expired passport as a legitimate form of ID.
Still shy of 6 though. No ID!
Shit. I began thinking I would be deported. And the wedding was getting close.
I went to a place in mid-town where they get passports fast and paid $200 for them to work their beautiful magic. I would have paid twice that so never have to go back to the DMV.
But today I returned. Two years strong. Refreshed.
I was immediately slapped and sent away.
I showed up just before 4pm, confident I would get my license this time, battle hardened, all the right documents in hand – my valid passort, Social Security Card, birth certificate. expired passport, a urine sample, and a drawing of a bird, and was told the booth I needed closes at 3:30.
But I will not be defeated. Oh no. I, King of Jewish Baseball, am getting my license.
6 GAMES, 4 DAYS
16 JulIt’s Sunday night. Just got home from a double header with the Thunder Dogs. I’ve played 6 games in the past 4 days. Played well, for the most part. Teams typically play a short spring training for a long regular season. I’m playing a long spring training for an amazingly short regular season – or more accurately, I am skipping the regular season and going straight to the playoffs – four days, September 19th – 23rd. So, what it seems I have done is nothing more than have a good week at spring training, which, although better than the alternative, goes mostly without meaning. And if I’m honest, it wasn’t even that good. Today alone I struck out a total of three times and made an error at third during a long and bizarre day at the ballpark that lasted almost eight hours. Of my last 30 waking hours, 15 have been on the baseball field. Even I, King of Jewish Baseball, have my limits, and by the end of our rain delay halfway though game two today, we all wanted out. Guys were sitting in the dugout fantasizing about Chinese food and other things not fit for print. And my hip hurts. But we’ll get to that. For now, let’s rewind, as some magical things have happened.
Friday night. T-Dogs win! We beat the Bears again. It was too close through seven innings, 3-3 game. We scored 4 in the 8th inning, and that was it. I was 3 for 4 with 3RBIS, but only one ball was truly hit hard.
Saturday double header with the A’s. It was a nice day. I got to the field first, but at least knew what to expect this week. Games were scheduled to start at 10am and 1pm sharp. Game 1 started just before 11. Game 2 started more or less on time but dragged along to a 13-17 final. They won both games. Between the arguments, the walks, pitching changes, and more arguments, the game went until 4:30 putting my time on the field at just under eight hours, an honest days work. I was a total of 4 for 7. 1 for 3 in the first game. 3 for 4 in the second game. 5 RBI’s total. The magic I speak of happened in my first at-bat of the second game. Runners were on first and second. Their guy threw me a first pitch slider. And it hung, or hanged. At which point I blacked out. I do not remember the swing. And I did not feel the ball hit the bat (it’s funny that when you hit the ball hardest you feel nothing, and when you hit it soft, it hurts). But I heard a very loud noise. Then I heard our dugout screaming. Ever since my top-of-the fence debacle a few weeks ago, I have been running everything hard out of the box. As I got near first base, I looked for the ball in left field, just in time to see it clear the trees behind the left field fence and land in the middle of Atlantic Avenue and take a high bounce across the highway. Home Run. As the new guy in the league, I would just assume get around the bases fast and resume my spot in the dugout. But Jose had a different idea. He started walking as soon as I hit the ball, so I was forced, as the runner behind him, to slow down to his pace and more-or-less walk around the bases. Ray hits second, Orlando hits third, Jose hits fourth, and I hit fifth. The three guys ahead on me in the line-up have almost 20 years pro experience between them. Let’s take a moment to meet the A’s…
Hitting 2nd for the A’s, Ray Montanez, Short Stop. Ray does not show up on Baseball Reference or Baseball Cube for some reason which leads me to believe that is not his actual name. But he says when he played pro ball he was with the Rangers, and I have no reason not to believe him. At upwards of 40 (a guess), he still looks like a big leaguer on the field. Have a look for yourself…
Hitting third, Right Filder, Orlando Encarnacion. Orlando was an UDFA (undrafted free agent). He signed with the New York Mets in 1997. He played 3 years in the Mets organization getting as high as AA before being released. He then played independant pro baseball. All told, Orlando played 7 years of pro ball. He’s a great hitter. Ray calls him Babe Ruth…
Hitting fourth, and doing the catching, none other than, if not the the one and only, the biggest, Jose Reyes. Jose was also as UDFA. He signed with the Pirates in 1994 and stayed with them until 2002, a good long run. He was playing in AA in 1998 and ’99. I have to point out, there is a huge difference between guys that played low level minor league baseball like rookie ball or low A for example, and guys that were good enough to elevate to AA and AAA. People sometimes make the mistake of thinking minor league baseball is just minor league baseball, but there is a drastic difference. The guys that played AA and AAA are good, great. They essentially are Major League baseball players who got lost in the system or didn’t quite fit in or swung at too many sliders in the dirt. I am not sure what kept Jose out of the big leagues, but he can play at what appears to be any level he choses. In any case, Jose, even if it’s just for the few people at our games and a free beer, is still at it, catching double headers and hitting balls a mile….
And hitting fifth, none other, the King of All Jewish Baseball, the only Jew to ever hit a ball across Atlantic Avenue, as far as I know, yours truly.
After the game, our coach kept saying something to me in Spanish. I think he knows I do not speak Spanish, but there’s no alternative because he doesn’t speak English so he persists hoping that if he tells me something enough times that I will somehow understand it. I thought he was asking for money for umpires, so I went into my pocket when one of the guys finally came over to translate and said, “He is saying make sure you come to every game from now on.” So it appears, after just three games, I have earned my stipes in the Zorrilla.
I woke up tired today. Had at 1:30 double header at Manhattanville College about an hour north of the city. We arrived at 12:30. Getting lose is always the hardest part of the day. The legs hurt. The arm hurt.
I was having trouble focusing early in the game. It was like I still wasn’t awake. Sometimes it’s hard to crank up the apparatus for these games. There’s no extra energy. No one is there. It’s totally quiet besides the sounds of the game and the birds. In the Zorrilla there are people and Merenge is blasting and a couple other teams are usually hanging out down the third base line right where I play, so it’s a little easier to get the adrenaline going. But this was an overcast sleepy Sunday in Westchester. The forecast was for rain all day. It hadn’t rained yet, but rain out was in the back of everyone’s mind, mine at least, which made it even harder. I am trying to let you into the inner workings of the mind of a certified baseball genius, but what I am really doing is making excuses, because early in the game, I got an easy ground ball and booted it. Total focus thing. I am Still not completely comfortable on the field yet. I am still searching for what any genius is searching for, the honest performance, front to back. But flubbed one early.
At the plate, I was 2 for 3. It happened again… again, for the third time now. I hit one off the top of the fence. Left field this time. Hit it well. But mostly on a line and it hit the fence and the kid playing left came up with it cleanly and quickly and it went as a single. Next guy, my man Josh Corn, former Stanford and Penn superstar catcher, singles to right field. I could have scored on the play if I was able to advance to second on the one off the wall which made me think I should have tried, or stolen second early in Josh’s at-bat, but the walk-off that was not a walk-off up in Peekskill is obviously still lingering because I did not try and stretch it. We ended up winning the first game 8-6 I think it was. We did our best to make it close as it’s said by giving up 3 in the 7th. But Frank struck out the last batter representing the go-ahead run, game over.
It still wasn’t raining by the start of game 2, but the storm was right over us and we had even delayed the start to see if it would pass. It was almost as dark as night the clouds were so thick, and none of us could see the ball on defense. I told Richie I’d pay $40 for a rain out. And in the 4th, losing 3-1, down came the thunder, and the Thunder Dogs. The umps pulled us off the field into the dugouts. Talk of Chinese food and other expletives enter. First rain delay of the season. It rained long and hard. We all began changing out of our uniforms for the sprint to our cars. But when the rained stop, the other team pulled out the rakes. They were winning and still needed 6 outs to make the game official. An hour passed. We continued talking about food and women. They continued raking. We were shocked they didn’t have wives or drug habits or favorite Sunday night shows to return home to, but they clearly did not. The sun came back out, we put our uniforms back on, and resumed the game. If it was hard to get pumped up for the start of game 1, we were now – 6 hours later, hungry, and soaked, more or less just standing around. We had crossed the line into a special territory you enter a couple times a season if you’re lucky – during games that take way too long, or if you’re hurt badly but still playing. We were in survival mode. Numbness. Anything could happen, and nothing mattered. What did happen is we finished the game, lost 6-3, and everyones wishes came true. They got their win, we got our Chinese food. Total of 2 for 7 on the day bringing my total in the 6 game stretch to 9 for 19 – 7 singles, 1 double, 1 home run, 8 RBIs. Not my proudest day at the park, but we made it out alive.
When we took the field after the rain delay, I told the ump that if I got hurt I would sue. I was kidding, but I was right. With all the warming up and cooling down and warming up and cooling down, I hurt myself a little. Left hip flexer/groin. Was gonna train tomorrow, but am resting, blogging. As we walked off the field I told the umps they’d hear from my lawyers in the morning.
In team news, Peter saw my most recent blog post – the one where I say most things about the team and the tournament are still unknown, and sent some answers along for us. We have added Scott Schoeneweis as a player coach. Schoeneweis is a left handed pitcher and played for 7 teams in the Major Leagues between 2000 and 2010. We also will have Josh Satin. Satin is in the Met’s organization now. He was in the Major Leagues last year for a while. The deal with guys in Satin’s situation regarding our team is this… If they are on a Major League 40-man roster come September, they cannot play with Team Israel obviously. But if they’re not, they can join the team for the Qualifier. There are a handful of guys in this situation and we won’t know about their involvement until 40-man rosters come out…