Sideline SquawkBox

BLOGGING BY THE NUMBERS...

115: number of days since I posted anything on this blog

2760.5 : number of hours since I posted anything on this blog

31: percentage of a year the above referenced time frame represents

20: current average 'hits' per day for this website

16: number of hits that originate from my computer

92,400,000: approximate number of web pages I've perused in the above referenced time period

91,000,000: the number that were porn related

0: total number of blogging ideas that I've come up with since I lasted posted

0: percent interest I have in the current political climate

about a million to 1: odds I will have anything interesting to blog about in the forseeable future

6,701,361,251 and counting: approximate human beings now populating the earth

0: number of the above who are concerned about my recent bout of writer's block

100,436,751 to 1: odds that this current post will get a Glenn Reynolds-style Instalanche

about even: the odds that someone reading this will at least get a momentary chuckle

THE BLAME GAME: NORTH KOREAN NUKES

Who are we to blame for the fact that the North Koreans now have Nukes? I'm guessing it's probably T.O. or A-Rod's fault...

PSEUDO-WORDS OF THE DAY

snotcicle - In cold weather climates, when a nose runs and the resulting mucous freezes as it drips out of a nostril.      

usage: It was so cold out Tommy had snotcicles hanging from his nose.

addadictomy - The operation performed when a transexual woman becomes a man.      

usage: has never, ever come up in normal, everyday conversation...

lottomobile - A vehicle that has a one-in-a-million chance of reaching its destination.      

usage: John attempted to drive his lottomobile to the grocery store, but it died halfway down the street.

BUYING A BAT IN THE HIGH TECH AGE

When I was kid growing up in the Bronx, buying a baseball bat was a real simple thing: you didn't--ever. If you played on a Little League team, a baseball bat was one of those pieces of equipment that simply came along with the team--like the catcher's gear or the helmets. It wasn't something you had to worry about as a kid. Besides, a bat was a luxury you just couldn't afford to buy anyway. It was bad enough you had to spring for the glove. A glove, which, if you were like the average Joe back in the day, was most likely still on your hand at your first kegger softball game in college.

No, personal ownership of a baseball bat is a relatively new phenomena--chalk it up to the affluence of a new generation. The only exception to having your very own bat when I was kid was going to Yankee Stadium and getting one for free on Bat Day. Growing up, I lived just six subway stops--a short twenty minute ride away, from the House that Ruth Built. From the time I was 8 years old through high school, my Dad and I always made the trip down to the stadium to get next season's bat.

Of course, the first one I got naturally became my favorite. It was the "Herman Munster" bat--so dubbed because it was signed by some player I didn't really know at the time with a really strange name-- "Thurman Munson"--which I mistakenly thought was that green, square-headed giant on the Munsters. When the usher at the gate handed it to me, I thought to myself--Crap! I wanted Graig Nettles...and immediately sought out a trade. Apparantly, the rest of the screaming 30,000 brats wanted a Nettles bat, too--so I was stuck with the Herman Munster bat. Eventually, I took the Munster bat to a Little League game and got a few hits with it--and voila!--instant favorite bat! That's all it takes, really. Even with today's bats. You can lay out 200 bucks on the latest carbon-fiber, nanotech flex-tube airfilled wonder bat and if the kid strikes out with it on his first at bat, well then you're out 200 large my friend. So sorry. Give that same kid a tree branch and if he manages to eek out a hit with it he'll sleep with that tree branch under his pillow the rest of the baseball season. The baseball gods are a strange bunch.

I had that Munster bat--and a good number of other 'free' Bat Day bats--for well over twenty years. Had I known they were going to invent eBay, I might've kept 'em a little longer, too, and not agreed to throw them away when it came time to move in with the new bride...(curses! why is it always our stuff that's gotta go?) I also used the bat at each and every game, piling up hit after hit. I had no idea what length it was, or how many ounces it was, or what the barrel diameter was. I had no concern (nor would I have had the foggiest idea) what it's 'core flex ratio' or 'barrel to handle balance proportion' was. Technology in those days was reserved for episodes of Star Trek--not baseball. When the Munster bat began to splinter from being left out in the rain too many times, I simply taped-up the handle with black electrical tape. In those days, we taped all of our equipment with electric tape. We used to get spare rolls from the Con Ed utility trucks working in the neighborhood. We'd tape the ends of our hockey sticks, stickball bats, baseball bats--we'd even tape the toe-ends of our hockey skates with the stuff to keep them from wearing down. When the tape roll was almost used up, it was the perfect size to use as a street puck for roller hockey.

The point I'm trying to make is, things had a more durable quality about them in those days--they lasted. Or, at least, we made them last. We weren't such a 'throw-away' society back then.

Fast forward to the present. I just finished purchasing both of my sons bats for the upcoming summer baseball tournament season. This has got to be, what, the third or fourth bat I've bought for each of them--they're 11 & 9 years old. Oh, how times have changed! But the competition has changed, too. This is not exactly sandlot ball they're playing--and with the cost of college quickly approaching the GNP of most third-world nations, a baseball scholarship would be nice, wouldn't it?

Shopping for a baseball bat these days is a lot like shopping for a car: lots of spiffy sounding features (which you don't really understand) accompanied by sticker shock. It's hard to believe that a 30" piece of aluminum (er, pardon me, a 30" piece of graphite alluminum alloy) could be so expensive. Oh, but come now... Don't be so alarmed--silly person! This one! This one is packed--PACKED I tell you with technology! Come! Just look at this baby! Can't you see? Our patented design  lengthens the sweet spot by increasing the barrel flex towards the contour end of the bat to provide maximum performance along the entire length of the composite barrel! Do you not see? The CNT Carbon Nanotube Technology strengthens the composite structures, optimizing designs for maximum performance! And if all of this was not enough, we utilize Integrated MatriX technology to optimize the relationship between materials, design technologies and manufacturing process, thus, delivering the hitter with the ultimate in bat performance and durability.!

Whew! Ok, ok--I'll take it--but for 200 beans, he better not strike out with it, or I swear I'll come over there and break the Carbon Nanotube over your head, and then it's back to the tree branch for the little bugger...

PASS THE PEANUTS, PLEASE

The family and I just flew in from Texas, back from a wonderful cruise of the Caribbean. The whole vacation was fabulous (more on this later--I promise) but of course, the last day was the dreadful 'travel day'. We spent the day passing from one line to the next--herded like cattle going to the slaughter. Disembark the ship, pass through customs, line up to get on a bus, pass through airport security, line up to get on one plane, get off that plane, WAIT, line up to get on another plane--pure hell. It was a miserable experience that tested everyone's patience. By the time we boarded the final flight in Atlanta, we were all tired and cranky. To make matters worse, the flight was delayed by almost 40 minutes for reasons unkown.

As soon as the plane took off and the flight attendants went through their usual safety show that no one ever pays any attention to, an announcement was made that the snack choice on the flight would be severely limited because someone on the plane was allergic to peanuts and therefore no peanuts--or products containing peanuts--would be served. To anyone.

Shit. Why can't I have a peanut? After 12 hours of travelling around the country, I was really looking forward to that bag of peanuts and a soda pop. In fact, I was thinking about asking for two bags (and possibly a product containing peanuts)--just to hold me over.

Now, here's the thing--about 1% of the US population, or 1 in 90 people, have an allergy to peanuts. Sometimes the allergy can be real bad, as in anaphylactic shock or death. I'm not trying to make light of something like this--but it's really not my problem either now, is it? I mean, I can understand the whole school situation--where school age kids are no longer allowed to take peanuts to the lunchroom, because, well, they're kids and kids aren't expected to know any better. But how in the world did this airline find out someone was allergic to peanuts? Was a survey handed out? If one was, I certainly didn't get mine--because I would've mentioned something about being 6'3" and not being able to fit into the seats for two and half hours on my survey. No, some adult mentioned to the flight crew that they or their child had a peanut allergy.

Think about that for a second. Really think about it. The airline certainly isn't at fault. We live in an extremely litigious society, and the airline, once informed of this information, protected itself from a lawsuit and took the easy way out by banning all peanuts and peanut products from the flight. The person who informed the airline of their peanut allergy, on the other hand, was a real piece of work. Instead of taking personal responsibility for their own well being and their own actions, they instead shifted that burden onto the airline, and subsequently, onto everyone else. Obviously, they are aware of this allergy and deal with it on a daily basis. You would think they would simply avoid eating peanuts or products containing peanuts instead of @#$&ing it up for the rest of us.

I got a cookie instead. At least it said 'cookie' on the wrapper. It was more like one of those things you give to a four month old baby when they're teething. Drats. I was really looking forward to those airplane peanuts...