July 19- Chicago Cubs

I have no idea who the guy on the right is.

It was the fall of 1993. My older brother Adam and I had just been sent to live with our father after a lengthy and costly custody battle left my mother with no choice but to have us live on the other side of town. We were one week into the school year when I had to go from my Mrs. Carver’s fifth grade classroom at Leo B. Hart Elementary School to Mrs. Miller’s classroom at Discovery Elementary School. It was an awkward time. I had to leave behind all of my friends and start over from scratch. As weird as the transition was I am thankful for this time period as it taught me how to be an extrovert. I could have easily kept to myself and shied away from meeting new people, but ultimately that would have affected me for the rest of my life. One of the first friends I made was a kid I met on the playground during recess named Mike McBride. He was in the same grade as me, but was in a different classroom. As it turned out he had an older brother named Paul who was my brother Adam’s age and the four of us routinely hung out at the McBride house after school. As fate would have it, the McBride’s lived only two blocks down the street from our house on Feather River Road in Bakersfield, California.

The importance of this friendship laid the foundation for this post. On the first day my brother and I got together with the McBrides we took to the garage where the pool table resided. Their garage was completely white, as in there were no posters on the walls and a white carpet had been placed on the floor as it housed both the pool table and their father’s dark green convertible Jaguar which we weren’t allowed to touch. Even to this day I can’t help but wonder why their father thought it was a good idea to place such an expensive car next to a pool table and expect nothing to happen. Luckily nothing did happen, but still. Since we were the “visiting team” my brother and I were on racking duties while Paul took to the stereo to put on some jams. This was the first time I heard 10 by Pearl Jam.

Even though “Once” is the first track on the album Paul skipped it and started off with “Even Flow.” Even at the age of 10 I knew I was listening to something special. I asked Paul what he was playing and he, Brian and my brother all looked at me like I was crazy. Adam told me it was Pearl Jam and then added “dumbass” on the end. Needless to say, after that I never bothered to ask who a band was when I heard it, I conducted my own research. But that’s all beside the point. The point is that had I not made new friends, gone to their house and played pool it may have been a bit longer before I heard the amazing vocals of Eddie Vedder, sick licks of Mike McCready and Stone Gossard, tight bass of Jeff Ament and bitchin’ beats of Dave Krusen.

My girlfriend Angie Kinderman has been a massive Pearl Jam fan since she was 12-years-old. In her life she has attended 15 Pearl Jam shows and seven Eddie Vedder solo performances. In my lifetime I had yet to attend a Pearl Jam show, a fact that Angie routinely joked about why we could never be together. But, like the loving girlfriend/future wife that she is she made sure to fix that a few days after New Year’s of 2013 (this year). As a member of the Pearl Jam Fan Club Angie has the ability to enter a lottery for a chance to buy tickets to their shows. The one show in particular that she wanted to go to was the one that the band was most looking forward to this year, the Wrigley Field show. As luck would have it, Angie hit paydirt.

On the morning of Friday, July 19, 2013 Angie boarded a plane, leaving from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida while I boarded one from Portland, Oregon, both of us headed to Midway Airport in Chicago, Illinois. The two of us hadn’t seen each other since I had left Florida back in early May, so our reunion in the airport was especially satisfying. I’ll spare you the details of the heated make-out session in the terminal, but we walked hand-in-hand through the terminals and down to the L-train, headed to our hotel in downtown Chicago. The show was that night so we didn’t have a lot of time to hang around. We showered quickly, put on a change of clothes and met up with Angie’s friends Matt and Melissa from Minnesota.

We all chuttled together down about 10 blocks to the closest L-train station which took us directly to Addison. From there we headed straight to Wrigley Field to pick up our tickets before enjoying a plethora of adult beverages in the many bars, speakeasies and public houses that Wrigleyville had to offer. 

Since the three of them weren’t rookies to the Pearl Jam concert game there were a slew of friends that had acquired over the years from other shows, all of whom I was introduced to, but don’t exactly remember any of their names due to the amount of Old Style and Pabst Blue Ribbon I had consumed. The only time it seems that I didn’t have a beer in my hand was when Angie and I went and grabbed a slice of pizza from down the street. One of the coolest parts of that sojourn was that I wan into a guy with a pretty awesome Pearl Jam shirt from one of their gigs in Montreal.

As I’ve come to find out in the time that I’ve known Angie, and even in time before that, the members of Pearl Jam are all huge sports fans. All of their posters, patches, sticks, shirts and other swag over the years has in some way been reflective of the sports teams in whichever city they play in. When you get a free chance I highly recommend looking through some of the photos that show this. Most of their old stuff is pretty badass much like the Montreal Expos-style shirt above. But after our brief pizza-based intermission, it was back to drinking.

Hours passed, and the sun seemed to get brighter and hotter. It had been a while since I partook in day drinking before a big event and I was definitely unconditioned. With about an hour to go before the show I threw in the towel. Angie, born and raised in Wisconsin, showed me a thing or two about powering through. About a half hour before the show was slated to start we headed over. This was also about the time when everyone else had done their fair share of boozing on the streets and decided to take indoors. Our seats were ground level, which meant that we had to go in through the front entrance, make our way to the left field bleachers and head out through the ivy over to the third base side bullpen. Now, I’ve been lucky enough to be able to walk across the field at two ballparks, the Oakland Coliseum and Tropicana Field, but this was something special. Never in my life could I have ever dreamed to be standing on the field at Wrigley, and I made sure to document it as much as I possibly could.

Bullpen

The roadies were still setting things up so Angie and I chatted with a few of the folks around us. Then finally, around 8:45 PM, the show kicked off. They kicked everything off with “Release,” the 11^th track off of Ten and then followed it up with “Nothingman,” “Present Tense,” “Hold On” and “Low Light.” It was around this time that we all started to notice clouds starting to creep in from behind the scoreboard in centerfield, but no one thought much of it at the time. 

It was also at this time that a girl in front of us who was too short to see over the person in front of her decided to stand up on her chair. It didn’t bother me as much as it did Angie and everyone else behind us, but we let it slide through the song “Come Back.” As Pearl Jam laid into their next song, “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” it was becoming apparent that the girl in front of us wasn’t going to budge. 

So rather than me being the “rude male” Angie took the lead and asked the girl to sit down because other people behind us couldn’t see. The girl then retorted, “No speak English,” you know, a total bitch move. What nobody expected was for Angie to say, “¿Puedes por favor siéntese? Todo el mundo detrás de usted no puede ver el espectáculo. Estás siendo muy grosero,” which translates to “Can you please sit down? Everyone behind you cannot see the show. You're being very rude.” At this point the girl just stood there, stunned that she had just been bested at her own game. Her boyfriend tried to come to the aid of his woman but was immediately halted by a “Now you’re just being rude” from the woman to my left and a “Shut the f--- up and sit down!” from behind me. For “not speaking English” the girl got down pretty fast after that. But more important out of all of this is the unanswered question of this show, or any show for that matter, which is: “Why the hell would you buy floor seats if you know you’re not going to be able to see over the person in front of you?” As “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” came to a close as did the show. Officials had informed the band that everything would need to be put on hold as the thunderstorm that had been brewing was about to take siege over Wrigley. Vedder took to the microphone and let everyone know what was going on and said that they would get back to things in “hopefully 45 minutes at most.” With little options and no desire to get struck by lightning, Angie and I retreated to the concourse areas.

45 minutes would have totally been fine; however, it ended up being a near three hour delay. Granted, this was of no fault of Wrigley Field or Pearl Jam, but it still sucked to be cooped up in borderline boiler room conditions, waiting for the show to commence. After two hours of waiting Angie and I said screw it to the floor seats and made our way to covered seats on the third base side so we could not only get a better view of the stage, but to be able to breathe clean air and sit in a chair, and not on the ever-disgusting walkways.

At about 10:45 PM security reopened the floor, and everyone who had general admission tickets for that section took off into a dead sprint to get their spots back. Angie and I were ever so grateful to not be mixed up in that crowd, except when the music started back up about 25 minutes after that. It’s a mystery as to whether it was Eddie Vedder’s intention to play this particular song next or if the weather had anything to do with it, but it was perfect for everything that we had all just been through.

In the history of songs that have been written about baseball there are few that can hold up to the test of time. Some are very dated like Natalie Cole’s “Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit that Ball” or “Catfish” by Bob Dylan, while others are eternal like John Fogerty’s “Centerfield” and Dr. John’s version of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” In keeping with this tradition Eddie Vedder wrote and sang an anthem about Chicago Cubs fans and Wrigley Field for Hall of Famer Ernie Banks. Do yourself a favor and just watch this. It’s the song, the creation of the song and appearance by a special guest.

I never really hung on to my affection with Pearl Jam as I got older, but I have enjoyed several of their songs over the years, but I never felt as much of a kinship with any of their songs until the first time I heard “All the Way.” Everything about it is perfect. Being able to hear and sing along with that song in its home with my sweetie was all I needed that night. Everything else they played was an added bonus in my eyes.

Pearl Jam played 16 more songs before leaving the stage, only to come back out to play nine more as the clock was quickly approaching 2 o’clock in the morning. Not wanting to push their luck and never be allowed to play at Wrigley again, they complied and ended the show after their cover of Neil Young’s classic “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World.” As the crowds took to the stairs and concourses I noticed that they were allowing people to leave through the exits in right field. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to take more photos on the field, let alone be able to touch the ivy, I quickly grabbed Angie’s hand and guided her down the steps and to the entrance just to the right of the dugout. Since we had wristbands for the floor seats I figured it wouldn’t be an issue to get back onto the field. As it turned out, I was correct. The security guard could have been a jerk about everything especially with as late as it was, instead he smile and told us “have a good night” as he let us through.

There was a memorabilia stand set up right where home plate would be so Angie made her way through the crowd to see of there was anything worth buying. Most of the cool stuff had all ready been pilfered through, so nice dice. Angie and I took a leisurely stroll from third to first base side, snapping a few photos on out way to the exit. 

This was the only exposed clump of grass from the night, which I made sure not pull out or damage. 

We had to get a photo in the visiting dugout.

I had heard that if you do the stadium tour you’re not allowed to touch the ivy. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, we both made sure to take advantage.

As we left the stadium we noticed the large line of people waiting to get back onto the L-train to head wherever. Rather than just stand there like a couple of suckers we made a break to the McDonald’s across the street for a snack before waiting for our chance to make our way back to the hotel. Because after all, it’s not like we were getting The Matterhorn or Space Mountain at Disneyland. Weak. Angie, her friends Matt and Melissa and I did hit a Chicago White Sox game the day after the show, but I pretty much covered all the best parts a few days ago.

Overall I have to say it was an amazing trip. It was the third time I’ve had the luxury of catching a concert inside of a baseball stadium with the other two being Third Eye Blind in Nationals Park and Bruce Springsteen at Fenway Park, but I’ll get into that story in another post. One of the more enjoyable, personal moments from the trip was when I was able to hit the New Era Flagship Store before Angie and I headed to the airport to fly home. It was great because we were able to meet up with two of my friends who I met in Buffalo during the #CrewEra13 trip, Chris Cornolo (@ccornolo) and Alex Mendoza (@Type1SXC). Chris happened to be in town for a three-day music fest put on by Phish and Alex lived just outside of the city. It had been a little less than month since we had all seen each other, but we all had stories to tell and hats to pick up. Actually for me, it was the one time I had ever walked into a New Era store and not purchased anything. Crazy, I know.

Onto the hat. The Cubs first used this cap, or at least a variation of it, in 1934 for home games, but it disappeared after that until 1957 when the Cubs introduced this cap which I wrote about on April 26^th. The only difference between the one on my head and the 1957 cap is the white piping going down the sides. In 1958 the Cubs ditched the piping and left this beautiful cap which has served as the Cubs’ game cap every year until 1994 when they introduced the red-billed road cap. So, from 1994-2008 this cap only served as the home cap until the red-billed cap was discontinued following the 2008 which put reinstated the all-blue cap back to its original game style platform. An interesting little side note is that the Pearl Jam show was the first place I had ever worn this cap, even though I’ve owned it for well over a year. I suppose I just needed the perfect time, place and person to be with.

6/5/85: For this mark I direct you to the video. Seriously, it’s only like 100 seconds long and you’ll easily recognize it. If you didn’t watch it, this is the date in witch Alan Ruck, Mia Sara and Matthew Broderick attended the Cubs game versus the Atlanta Braves in the scene from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Now, what I didn’t know until February 6, 2011 is that no one, at least of note, had written about or discovered the particular date in which the cast and crew attended the game. Well, that’s not necessarily true. In fact, I had actually figured it out back in 2002 with little to work with other than box scores and the Harry Caray sound bites from the film. I was 19-years-old at the time when I solved it and did a brief write up in my old Gateway computer; however, that computer has since bit the dust along with anything that I write from my high school and junior college days. So, as a result of not backing up my files, Larry Granillo from Baseball Prospectus was given the distinction as the guy who figured it out… nine years after I did. Here’s his article if you want to give it a gander. 

As a kid "Ferris Bueller's..." was sort of my Catcher in the Rye. I still quote it like crazy and the philosophies are still dear to my heart, hence why you always find me running around, going on adventures. I've never lived life with regret, but I know that would if I never took the amount of chances as I have done. If there is any lesson I can teach to anyone it's that you should never limit yourself. Never tell yourself it's a bad time, or you can't afford it, etc. You always have the time. You can always afford it if you save and commit yourself to whatever you desire. There's nothing more depressing than keeping yourself from your wants and desires. I was fortunate enough to learn this at a very young age from my mother who would never let me settle for mediocrity. I challenge you to live by this creed as well.

June 14- Hillsboro Hops

It’s weird to think that it’s only been two years since professional baseball left Portland, September 6, 2010 to be exact. I wrote about that date back on March 6^th in my first of several posts about the then-Portland Beavers who are now the Tucson Padres. And while the city has been two years removed from the game I love, it felt like an eternity. A lot has happened in such a short time frame, at least from my perspective: I graduated from the University of Oregon… twice, went to New York City to be a member in season two of the MLB Fan Cave, traveled the country and Canada after being kicked out of the Fan Cave, fell in love with Angie Kinderman (@sconnieangie), went to Europe and made a lot of new friends. Yes, I’ve kept busy, but that still doesn’t mean I didn’t miss having a professional team in the city in which I call home.

From 2007 through the middle of March of this year I lived in Eugene, Oregon, going to school for the majority of the time that I was there. For the first two years I did my best to attend as many Beavers games as I could, but found myself attending more Eugene Emeralds games more and more each year due to proximity. Then, in 2009, the U of O baseball was re-established after a 28-year hiatus. These moments, in conjunction with the back-to-back National Championships in baseball that my school’s rival, Oregon State University, won in 2006 and 2007 were proving to the community and the surrounding states that baseball was finally becoming a thriving, successful sport in Oregon. But alas, the Portland Beavers were out as the newly-promoted Major League Soccer team, the Portland Timbers, needed a soccer-specific stadium to host their games. Their solution? Renovate and all ready renovated baseball stadium, PGE Park, convert it to a soccer-specific venue and leave the Beavers high-and-dry. Thus, the move to Tucson without a better option.

In May of 2011 buzz began to build about the possible return of professional baseball to the Portland area… sort of. Across the I-5 bridge to the north the town of Vancouver, Washington was scrambling to put together a proposal and business plan to be able to house the Yakima Bears and build a new baseball facility on the campus of Clark College, a junior college I happened to graduate from, in the southern portion of the city. Everything seemed to be in place for the upcoming 2012 season, but the deal fell through, leaving the Bears n limbo. On June 26, 2012 the town of Hillsboro, a thriving suburban just west of Portland, threw voted unanimously to bring the Bears, and professional baseball, back to the Portland area. In October the reality set in as the newly named Hillsboro Hops broke ground for a stadium renovation at Hillsboro Ballpark near Sunset Highway. 

On June 14, 2013, today, the Hops played their first game against Northwest League rival the Salem-Keizer Volcanoes. Despite the fact that the Hops went on to lose 2-3, the reality is that all of the hard work and effort that it took general manager K.L. Wombacher, the Hops and the town of Hillsboro to put this all together need to be applauded no matter what the result on the field was. Baseball in the big city is back.

This particular hat is one that I sadly don’t own yet. Much like my Oakland Athletics Stars and Stripes post from May 21^st, I had to borrow this one to be able to pull it off in time for the season opener. This will explain why there aren’t any marks yet. This is the first cap the Hops wore for their first game in the 2013 season, and will serve as such as their road cap for the rest of the season to go along with their classic grey uniforms. The name itself, the Hops, is comes from the beer ingredient which is grown in abundance throughout the state of Oregon. Believe it or not, most beer you drink comes as a result of Oregon having a hand in it. The name is also part of a three-year collaboration the Hops are doing with BridgePort Brewing Company, the official beer of the Hops.

The Hops themselves are an affiliate of the Arizona Diamondbacks organization, and have been so since 2001. Prior to becoming the Hops, the Bears resided in Yakima, Washington, a town in the southern-central part of the state since 1990. From 1990-2000 they were an affiliate of the Los Angeles Dodgers, but I’ll go into more detail about that later in the year. Notable alumni include Dan Uggla, Conor Jackson, Pedro Astacio and Paul Konerko. It’ll be interesting to see what this young Hops team will amount to in the years to come.

As I mentioned above I still need to get the hat, but I already picked up my marks. Once I get it in my possession I’ll be sure to update my photo. Until then, here you are.

RK: The start of any short season-A season is interesting because it comes right at the tail end of high school graduations, college graduations and Major League Baseball amateur draft. Most of the players on these teams are made up of the Major League affiliate’s recent acquisitions, so there is usually a pretty high turnover rate, so to speak, that comes at this level. Upon looking at the roster for the inaugural season for the Hops there was one name that really jumped out me, for literary and historical reasons mostly. In the 18^th round and with the 540^th overall pick the Diamondbacks selected Ryan Kinsella out of Elon University in North Carolina. If the name Kinsella doesn’t ring a bell, then you’re clearly not a baseball fan.

Kinsella is the last name on Kevin Costner’s character in “Field of Dreams;” in fact, it’s actually the last name of the guy who wrote the original story, W.P. Kinsella. I did my best to find out if the two were related, but my trail went cold. This particular Kinsella is catcher from Warren, New Jersey. He and the Phoenix made it to the final game of their Regional, but fell to the University of Virginia Cavaliers 11-3. Kinsella hit .291 in his two years at Elon including 13 home runs and 78 RBI. He is only the third player with the last name Kinsella to play at the professional level, and the first with that name to play after the release of “Field Of Dreams.”

#15- Hops pitching coach Doug Drabek has been affiliated with the team since the starts of the 2010 season back in Yakima. The following season he was promoted to the advanced-A California League affiliate the Visalia Rawhide before being brought to Hillsboro to help a new, fresh-faced batch of talent compete in their new home as the Hops.

Drabek’s career in baseball dates back to when he was selected in the 11^th round of the 1983 amateur draft by the Chicago White Sox. After signing with the White Sox, Drabek was assigned to the Niagara Falls Sox in the short-season New York-Penn League where he finished 6–7 with a 3.67 ERA in 16 games with 103 strikeouts in 103 2/3 innings. After pitching one game for the Class A Appleton, Drabek was promoted to the AA Glens Falls White Sox and was 12–5 with a 2.24 ERA. On 13 August, he was traded to the New York Yankees along with Kevin Hickey to complete an earlier deal made on July 18 for Roy Smalley. Drabek then spent the rest of the 1984 season at AA Nashville. In 1985, Drabek returned to AA and spent the entire season at Albany-Colonie in the Eastern League and finished with a 13–7 record with a 2.99 ERA with 153 strikeouts in 192 2/3 innings. After starting the 1986 season at AAA Columbus, Drabek made his Major League debut on May 30, coming in relief for starter Joe Niekro in a 6–3 loss to the Oakland Athletics. He would spend the rest of the season with the Yankees, appearing in 27 games (21 starts) and go 7–8 with a 4.10 ERA. 1986 would be the only year in which he didn’t wear #15; that season he wore #36. Following the season, he was traded with Logan Easley and Brian Fisher to the Pittsburgh Pirates for Rick Rhoden, Cecilio Guante and Pat Clements.

Drabek enjoyed his best years with Pittsburgh, from 1987 to 1992, during which time he regularly pitched over 230 innings and consistently finished in the top 10 in the National League ERA. On August 3, 1990 Drabek had a no-hitter broken up by a Sil Campusano single with two out in the ninth. The hit was the only one Drabek would allow in defeating the Philadelphia Phillies 11-0. He went 22–6 with a 2.76 ERA in 1990 en route to winning the National League Cy Young Award and leading the Pirates to the postseason (where they lost in the NLCS to the Cincinnati Reds). His 22 wins that year were a league high; it was also 7 more wins than his previous single-season mark.

Drabek signed as a free agent after the 1992 season with the Houston Astros. Despite a solid 3.79 ERA and playing for a rising team, he posted a 9–18 record. He improved in the strike-shortened 1994 season to 12–6 with a 2.84 ERA. When play resumed after the players' strike in 1995, however, he was unable to maintain his success and retired after the 1998 season, having compiled a 35–40 record over his final four seasons.

May 9- Toronto Blue Jays

March 17- Boston Red Sox

Tonight’s post will be taken with a different approach. While a few of the others in the past have involved me enjoying a good beer that I nursed throughout the writing process, with this one I will be completely inebriated. I’ve slugged down two Pabst Blue Ribbons, a pint of Guinness and a shot of Jameson… all on an empty stomach. I know I don’t need to do this. Hell, there may not even be anything really that original about it. Nonetheless, it’s St. Patrick’s Day and I’m Irish. Like the famous Irish writers who have come before me (James Joyce, Flann O’Brien and William B. Yeats) I have elected to follow in their footsteps and try to come up with something profound… but probably won’t. Enjoy!

Boston has been long known as a hot bed for the Irish immigrants and their families who sailed across the Atlantic in the hopes of making it big in America. Like their ancestors who came before them, professional baseball players are hardly different. Both had a particular skill or talent, and both had dreams of making it big in the country which has always been overtly prosperous. However, like Irish of old, sometimes you’re never given your shot; sometimes hard times and the unfortunately reality that your time has come to an end lies in your path.

This cap was first used on St. Paddy's in 2004 and every subsequent March 17th since.

#48- Unless you’re an extreme baseball historian, I highly doubt that any of you know who Tim Lollar is or was. Hell, prior to three days ago I didn’t even have a clue. But, in keeping with the day, and what I said in the previous paragraph, I doubt very few of you will forget him.

For the longest time I had always thought that the Boston Red Sox were the first team to introduce the green St. Patrick Day uniforms to Spring Training. The reality was that the Los Angeles Dodgers had done it briefly in the 1960s with their warm-up uniforms, but it was the 1978 Cincinnati Reds that first donned the actual St. Paddy’s unis in a game against the previous year’s World Series champion New York Yankees. But, as years passed and more and more teams jumped in the St. Paddy’s Day bandwagon it was only a matter of time before the Red Sox took notice as well. 1994 was the first year the Red Sox partook to be exact.

In keeping with the date and team I had to search intently through years of facts, numbers and stores in order to put together a legitimate St. Patrick’s Day story for the Red Sox. Unfortunately, no matter which book I combed through, and no matter which Web sites I pillaged, all I could find was this name, Tim Lollar.

Lollar was born on St. Patrick’s Day of 1956 in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. He attended the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville and was drafted as a pitcher by the Yankees in the fourth round of the 1978 amateur draft. His career only lasted seven years, at which his most notable statistical came in 1982 with the San Diego Padres when he went 16-9 with a 3.13 ERA and 150 strikeouts. Lollar had begun his career as a starting pitcher; however, by the time he got to the Red Sox in 1986 he was utilized more out of the bullpen.

Lollar pitched in 32 games in ’86, going 2-0 with a 6.91 ERA for hands down the worst year of his career. His performance that season was so questionable that his final career game came on October 5^th, a few games before the season had ended. Lollar was so disregarded by the Sox that they left him off the playoff roster. The only time Lollar ever got a chance to lay in the postseason came in 1984 with the Padres in the National League Championship Series and the World Series against the Detroit Tigers. His performance in the ’94 World Series ended with 1 2/3 innings pitched, four earned runs, four hits, four walks, a home run given up and a loss. But that’s the way it goes in the Show sometimes. You have your good days, and certainly your bad ones. The one thing I can’t help but think about is Game 6 of the ’86 Series. Had Calvin Schiraldi gotten that final out against Gary Carter in the bottom of the 10^th inning, Lollar would have had himself a World Series ring to at least be prideful about. For Schiraldi, that was certainly a bad day; a day that affected more than the men on the field, but the guys who never got their shot to redeem themselves in the postseason.

After Lollar’s career ended he moved to Lakewood, Colorado and got heavily into the golf scene. So much that he became a PGA pro and built a more successful career as an instructor.

Unfortunately there’s not much else to be said about him. I still find it a bit odd that this is the only St. Patrick’s Day related bit of fodder within the history of the Red Sox organization; however, since the day falls within Spring Training, I suppose there isn’t much that can be done about that.

January 21- Minnesota Twins

If there was ever a team who struck gold with changing/introducing a new hat, hands down it has to be the 1987 Minnesota Twins*. Also, if there was ever a team who didn’t deserve to be hated, but for some reason I do, it’s the Minnesota Twins.

The Twinkies introduced this hat at the start of the 1987 season, kicking the long time favorite “TC” logo to the curb; which had been a staple of the organization since the Washington Senators were relocated in 1961. I’m honestly curious to know what the fan response to the hat/logo change was prior to the start of the season, especially considering that the Twins won the World Series in 1987 and 1991 while sporting this cap. For some reason, in my head, I can picture droves of fans booing the switch; almost comparing it an abomination to the team. In the same light I can also picture Carl Pohlad giving the fans the finger… with a World Series ring on each middle finger. My dreams are weird sometimes. Anyway, this is a constant, repetitive theme that I will be bringing up on my blog posts for the next 334 days, if you haven’t figured that out.

The “M” logo, in my opinion, is the best hat logo the team ever had. Keep in mind the team has only had four total hat styles. I’ve just always enjoyed. It has that special something, and a bit of bite to it considering the success the organization has had with it. Now, a very important detail that I must point out: I bought this hat in October of 2011. At the time my plan was to only have one hat from every organization, so I picked this one up off the Lids Web site for $16. Why so cheap? Here’s why…

When I had originally purchased this hat the 2010 Target Field patch didn’t bother me. Then, it showed up in the mail… and I’ve hated it ever since. When it comes to “on field” caps I prefer just the team logo and the MLB logo on the back. Patches on the side, with the exception on the New Era logo, have always been distracting to me; makes the hat too busy. Also, when starting my marking process, it makes these numbers a bit out of place when considering that this hat was used for one specific year, and should have been represented by an event or player(s) form that team. But like I said before, I was only planning on getting the one Twins hat, and went with the two guys who I most associated with my time really following the organization.

For some it’s hard to believe that my first conscious memory of baseball on TV is Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. I say this because I was three-years-old when it went down. The 1987 World Series I remember just as vividly. I can tell you every detail of my house in Stockton, California from where the TV sat to who was in the room and where they were sitting while we were watching it. With that, I chose the two most (personally) memorable figure from that squad.

#34- Kirby Puckett should receive no argument on any grounds. 1987 was his breakout year, posting .332/28/99 along with an American League leading 207 hits. Not too shabby for a guy hitting in the seven hole. Not only could dude pal hit, he was a Gold Glove lock in the outfield. For as short and pudgy as he was, the cat was a five-tool player if there ever was one. I should also point out that, as a four-year-old, I was very impressionable, and seeing a guy who looked like Kirby (plus the name) made it hard to resist now being a fan of his.But most important, his unfortunate injury sidelined what could have been an amazing addition to his career. Having only played 12 years, his stats were an obvious Hall of Fame lock: .318 lifetime average and 2304 hits. He would have easily gotten to 3000, and quite possibly 4000.

#16- This is the moment when I first realized how badass facial hair is. Frank Viola’s mustache was, and still is amazing. Sweet Music was the best starting pitcher the team had that season… and the next for that matter too, since he did win the AL Cy Young in ’88. His 17-10 season record was only closely matched by Bert Blyleven’s 15-12 record, and an equally as boss beard. Plus, even a 42-year-old Steve Carlton had to sit back an admire Viola’s dominance in the Series: 2-1 with 16 strikeouts and an ERA of 3.72. And oh yah, did I mention he was the World Series MVP? Viola that is, not his mustache.

*One thing that should also be pointed out when reading this post is that my girlfriend Angie Kinderman (@sconnieangie) is a huge Twins fan. She will rub this, and every positive thing I say about the Twins in my face. Lame. :(