Last week, on Thursday the 15th to be precise, I heard the three most beautiful words in the English language: pitchers and catchers. Now, before your mind wanders and you start thinking strange things about me, I’m talking about baseball. All other position players are due at camp this week, but pitchers and catchers report first and thus signal the beginning of spring and the first glimmer of hope that the long, cold winter is almost over. I don’t know what to do with myself between the end of football season and the beginning of baseball. Watch hockey? Pshh. C’mon, I live in Georgia.
So, in honor of spring training I figured I'd give my opinion on the outlook of the Braves this year and my predictions for the NL East. Since no one really reads this anymore it won’t matter if I’m way off, but if I’m right I’ll have the evidence to prove it.
Bull Pen: A
The key off season moves this year strengthend the bull pen: the Braves picked up Mike Gonzalez and Rafael Soriano. These two excellent set up men, and possibly occasional closers, along with regular closer Bob Wickman, give us one of the strongest pens in the league. This will make this season a lot less stressful. Last year, Braves fans started rocking like Leo every time Bobby came to the mound with the hook. Look for this to take a big load off starting pitching as they won't feel like they have to go 7 or 8 innings each outing.
Starting Pitching: B
The starting rotation is still a question mark. John Smoltz should be strong as ever. Word is that he’s the type that won’t let his recent divorce affect him on the field, and since he’s in the last year of his contract he’s going to want to put up some good numbers to stick around a few more years (with or without the Braves). Tim Hudson is back, but will we see the Huddy of the last few years, or the one that was one of the most dominant pitchers in baseball when he played for Oakland? The biggest question mark is Mike Hampton who is planning to return from missing a season and a half because of injuries. Let’s hope he can return to his pre-injury form. Closing out the rotation will be Chuck James, a rookie who showed a lot of promise last year. If everyhing comes together, this staff is an A+.
Infield: C+
The biggest losses in the off season did a number on the right side of the infield. Marcus Giles was released as a free agent and Adam LaRoche was traded to the Pirates. Giles has always been one of my favorites, and his off the field spirit will probably be missed more than his bat. As for LaRoche, I’ve gone from not liking him because of his lack of hustle to coming around some with his amazing second half offensive performance last season. Whatever you think about him, he leaves some decent sized shoes to fill. Rookies will be taking over at both positions, Scott Thorman at first and Kelly Johnson at second (who hasn't played second since high school) so only time will tell how that will work out. Look for prospect Jarrod Saltalamacchia to perhaps come up late in the season. If he can find his bat and pick up some skills at first, we could be set there for a while.
As for the rest of the infield, we look pretty good. Edgar Renteria is a soft spoken guy that speaks loudly with his bat. He had a couple of great hitting streaks last season. Chipper is Chipper. The main question is: will he stay healthy? If not, we'll have a very young infield as his replacement will probably be Willy Aybar who came up in 2005 with the Dodgers. Behind the plate, we have probably the best young catcher in baseball. There’s nothing not to like about Brian McCann. Overall, there are a lot of holes, so we'll all be counting on Bobby to work some magic.
Outfield: B
There are two main questions in the outfield: who gets the starting job in left and will Frenchy draw a few walks this season? Ryan Langerhans and Matt Diaz are the two guys in the running for the left field spot. While Langerhans is a great defensive outfielder, he has struggled at the plate. Diaz is a better hitter, but hasn’t been as strong in the field. Perhaps there will be a platoon, but I have a feeling one of them will end up on the trading block. Spring training may just determine which one. Jeff Francoeur is a great left fielder and has promise to be one of the league’s best hitters. Now if he could just lay off the first pitch… He only drew 23 walks in 651 at bats last season. I'm surprised it's even that high. Andruw Jones in center is the strongest part of the outfield. Word is he’s in the best shape he’s been in for years at the start of spring training and he’s also going to be playing for $$$. This is the last year of his contract, and he’s up for a HUGE raise if he performs well (unfortunately, it most likely won’t be with the Braves who have a payroll cap that will likely stay with new owners Liberty Media). At the very least, we’ll get one more great season from him. Be sure to catch some games this year just to see Andruw, because this may be the last time you see him in a Braves uniform.
Bench: C
The bench is very young and will most likely be playing musical chairs as Bobby tries to come up with the right combination for the open infield spots. If Chipper goes down, the bench will be even thinner. We're not going to have a lot in the line of pinch hitters, but we will have some speed and some hustle. Pete Orr deserves mention here. He's no great threat right now, but he plays like a ball player. He hustles to first even on a little bouncer to the mound. Hopefully his spirit will be contagious.
Overall, if the pitching and infield questions work out, the Braves have a good shot of taking the division again this year. Pitching is what always won it for us in the past, and if we can work out some kinks, we could be staring down on the rest of the East, as it should be.
Prediction for final NL East standings:
1. Atlanta Braves – Yea, gotta go with the hometown team
2. New York Mets – Will be very tough again this season, but pitching is the question, espcially their aces. Pedro has been injured and Glavine is getting up there.
3. Philadelphia Phillies – Have a good shot of taking the whole division, I’d put them no more than a game back from the Mets. Ryan Howard is amazing: there's not reason he won't hit another 50 home runs this year with the short porch at Citizens Bank Park
4. Florida Marlins - A young team loaded with talent. They'll be the team to beat in a couple of years, of course they need to get their front office in order first and get out of Dolphin Stadium.
5. Washington Nationals - Still in transition and trying to rebuild. Wait until they get their new stadium and a permenant home.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Friday, February 09, 2007
Folk Tales I
Here is my first folk tale re-telling. You can read my introduction to these here. This comes from a Japanese folk tale called The Mirror of Matsuyama. I have changed the setting from Japan to the American west, but have left most of it the same. You can read the original story here. So, without further delay, here is my version:
The Mirror
A thin beam of light from the setting sun shone through the crack in the door, climbed up the wooden table in the center of the room, and ran down the other side before dying out next to a woman sitting in a rocking chair, knitting. Her daughter played on the wooden floor next to her with a rag doll, its left eye hanging by a thread.
The door swung open and a tall man walked in. His eyes were tired and his clothes ragged. The little girl jumped up, leaving her doll on the floor where she was playing, and ran to her father. She jumped in his arms and the father let out an audible groan at the extra weight, but he still grabbed the girl and tossed her into the air as if she were a doll.
“I have news,” the man said as he set his daughter down. “Word is that prices are up. I need to go to town tomorrow with some of the harvest now before they go back down again. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Can I come?” the daughter asked, looking up at her father.
The man bent down.
“No, darling, you must stay. But if you’re a good girl, and look after your mother, I’ll bring you a surprise.”
***
The sun stood a perfect sphere, high in the pale blue sky. A gentle breeze blew through the small girl’s hair as she did cartwheels near the small log cabin. She fell and lay in the warm grass looking up at the sky. She heard her mother's footsteps rush from inside the cabin and out onto the porch and looked up to see her father emerge over the hill driving the horse carriage. When he spotted his family he waved.
The dust settled and the man jumped down from the carriage to be greeted by his wife and daughter.
“What did you bring me?” his daughter shrieked in excitement.
“It’s nice to see you too,” the man said with a laugh. He kissed his wife and then reached into the back of the carriage.
He pulled out a wicker basket and set it on the ground. The little girl clasped her hands and jumped up and down in excitement. He reached into the basket and held his hand there for just a moment until he thought his daughter would burst and then pulled out a brand new doll, with shiny button eyes and a clean checkered dress, and a small tin with candies. His daughter held her new treasures in her hands and then gave her father a hug. Her father then pulled out another gift.
“This one is for your mother,” he said, and handed a beautiful metal mirror to his wife. The back of the mirror had a painting of a horse grazing next to a pond.
She held the mirror up and was startled to see the woman looking back at her, at first thinking it to be someone else, and then chuckling to herself at the idea. Being far from town and not having much money, the woman had never owned a mirror and had never seen such a clear reflection of herself before. She remembered looking into a pond when she was a girl and seeing her blonde curls spill around her face, but this was entirely different. She smiled as she looked into the mirror just as the wind blew her hair and her husband and daughter shared a look both knowing the image in the mirror must be the most beautiful site a person could behold.
“I love it,” his wife said. “It’s perfect.”
***
The moon shone cold through the window on the woman lying in bed. Every blanket in the house was piled on the bed and her husband sat next to her, holding a cool wet cloth to her forehead. The woman coughed until she couldn’t breathe. Her daughter sat across the room clutching her doll. She was terrified and couldn’t sleep.
After this last coughing fit the woman lay back and looked almost peaceful. Her skin was a pale white and appeared more so in the soft light of the full moon. She looked up and motioned for her daughter to come close.
Slowly, the little girl walked to her mother.
“Dearest,” the mother began in a soft whisper, “I am leaving soon and I will not be back. But this does not mean that I will not always love you and always be with you. You are my treasure and have filled my life with joy. Please take care of your father. You will miss me, but when you are lonely, look into my mirror and I will be with you.”
The mother took the mirror from next to the bed and handed it to the little girl. The metal was cold in her hands and she held it to her chest, still looking into her mother’s face. Slowly, her mother lay back, closed her eyes, and became still.
***
“Wake up!” the woman snapped. “I need your help in the kitchen, you have slept long enough. When I was your age this kind of sloth would not have been tolerated!”
The little girl rubbed sleep from her eyes and saw her step-mother standing over her. It was cold and the girl could hear the rain outside.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” the woman said as she turned back to her chores.
The little girl rose and slowly dressed. She stood for a long while looking at the mirror her mother had given her. She smiled and reached for it, but was jolted back into the present to another call from her step-mother.
Often over the past 3 years since her mother had died, and especially the past year since her father had re-married, the little girl would take the mirror somewhere quiet. She would sit in the corner between her bed and the wall, or take it out to the big oak tree outside, and would stare into the mirror. Whenever she did, she saw her mother’s face, not pale and sick as it was at the end, but beautiful and full of life.
The girl couldn’t bear the thought of another morning of chores, and grabbed the mirror and sat between the wall and her bed. Impatient that she had not come to the kitchen, the woman walked back to the girl and saw her looking at the mirror and grinning.
Surely she is up to some sort of devilry, the woman thought. She must be plotting all manner of terrible things. That must be some instrument of the devil she’s got. Well, I won’t stand for it.
The woman hurried out of the cabin and found her husband working in the field. She explained to him the situation. Hardly believing it he walked back to the cabin with her, but the more she talked the more convincing she sounded.
He walked into the cabin and his daughter looked up and slid the mirror quickly under the covers. Now, thinking she must be up to something if she would be so quick to hide the instrument, he confronted her.
The girl looked up surprised at her father’s accusation.
“I would never hurt someone that means so much to you, father. You are happy, and I am happy for you. I mean no harm.”
“What is it that you hid so quickly?”
“It is the mirror you gave to mother and that she gave me. She told me to look in it whenever I was lonely. When I do, which has been often, I see her face, smiling and beautiful as I remember it best.” The girl pulled the mirror out and held it up to her father. He reached for it, warm from being under the covers and in the girls hands, and looked at his reflection. A tear came to his eye and he looked to his new wife.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to hold back her own tears, “I never knew, I…” She trailed off, and began to cry. Her face softened and she looked at the little girl as if for the first time. The three stood with each other in the small room as the rain gently eased up outside.
The Mirror
A thin beam of light from the setting sun shone through the crack in the door, climbed up the wooden table in the center of the room, and ran down the other side before dying out next to a woman sitting in a rocking chair, knitting. Her daughter played on the wooden floor next to her with a rag doll, its left eye hanging by a thread.
The door swung open and a tall man walked in. His eyes were tired and his clothes ragged. The little girl jumped up, leaving her doll on the floor where she was playing, and ran to her father. She jumped in his arms and the father let out an audible groan at the extra weight, but he still grabbed the girl and tossed her into the air as if she were a doll.
“I have news,” the man said as he set his daughter down. “Word is that prices are up. I need to go to town tomorrow with some of the harvest now before they go back down again. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Can I come?” the daughter asked, looking up at her father.
The man bent down.
“No, darling, you must stay. But if you’re a good girl, and look after your mother, I’ll bring you a surprise.”
***
The sun stood a perfect sphere, high in the pale blue sky. A gentle breeze blew through the small girl’s hair as she did cartwheels near the small log cabin. She fell and lay in the warm grass looking up at the sky. She heard her mother's footsteps rush from inside the cabin and out onto the porch and looked up to see her father emerge over the hill driving the horse carriage. When he spotted his family he waved.
The dust settled and the man jumped down from the carriage to be greeted by his wife and daughter.
“What did you bring me?” his daughter shrieked in excitement.
“It’s nice to see you too,” the man said with a laugh. He kissed his wife and then reached into the back of the carriage.
He pulled out a wicker basket and set it on the ground. The little girl clasped her hands and jumped up and down in excitement. He reached into the basket and held his hand there for just a moment until he thought his daughter would burst and then pulled out a brand new doll, with shiny button eyes and a clean checkered dress, and a small tin with candies. His daughter held her new treasures in her hands and then gave her father a hug. Her father then pulled out another gift.
“This one is for your mother,” he said, and handed a beautiful metal mirror to his wife. The back of the mirror had a painting of a horse grazing next to a pond.
She held the mirror up and was startled to see the woman looking back at her, at first thinking it to be someone else, and then chuckling to herself at the idea. Being far from town and not having much money, the woman had never owned a mirror and had never seen such a clear reflection of herself before. She remembered looking into a pond when she was a girl and seeing her blonde curls spill around her face, but this was entirely different. She smiled as she looked into the mirror just as the wind blew her hair and her husband and daughter shared a look both knowing the image in the mirror must be the most beautiful site a person could behold.
“I love it,” his wife said. “It’s perfect.”
***
The moon shone cold through the window on the woman lying in bed. Every blanket in the house was piled on the bed and her husband sat next to her, holding a cool wet cloth to her forehead. The woman coughed until she couldn’t breathe. Her daughter sat across the room clutching her doll. She was terrified and couldn’t sleep.
After this last coughing fit the woman lay back and looked almost peaceful. Her skin was a pale white and appeared more so in the soft light of the full moon. She looked up and motioned for her daughter to come close.
Slowly, the little girl walked to her mother.
“Dearest,” the mother began in a soft whisper, “I am leaving soon and I will not be back. But this does not mean that I will not always love you and always be with you. You are my treasure and have filled my life with joy. Please take care of your father. You will miss me, but when you are lonely, look into my mirror and I will be with you.”
The mother took the mirror from next to the bed and handed it to the little girl. The metal was cold in her hands and she held it to her chest, still looking into her mother’s face. Slowly, her mother lay back, closed her eyes, and became still.
***
“Wake up!” the woman snapped. “I need your help in the kitchen, you have slept long enough. When I was your age this kind of sloth would not have been tolerated!”
The little girl rubbed sleep from her eyes and saw her step-mother standing over her. It was cold and the girl could hear the rain outside.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” the woman said as she turned back to her chores.
The little girl rose and slowly dressed. She stood for a long while looking at the mirror her mother had given her. She smiled and reached for it, but was jolted back into the present to another call from her step-mother.
Often over the past 3 years since her mother had died, and especially the past year since her father had re-married, the little girl would take the mirror somewhere quiet. She would sit in the corner between her bed and the wall, or take it out to the big oak tree outside, and would stare into the mirror. Whenever she did, she saw her mother’s face, not pale and sick as it was at the end, but beautiful and full of life.
The girl couldn’t bear the thought of another morning of chores, and grabbed the mirror and sat between the wall and her bed. Impatient that she had not come to the kitchen, the woman walked back to the girl and saw her looking at the mirror and grinning.
Surely she is up to some sort of devilry, the woman thought. She must be plotting all manner of terrible things. That must be some instrument of the devil she’s got. Well, I won’t stand for it.
The woman hurried out of the cabin and found her husband working in the field. She explained to him the situation. Hardly believing it he walked back to the cabin with her, but the more she talked the more convincing she sounded.
He walked into the cabin and his daughter looked up and slid the mirror quickly under the covers. Now, thinking she must be up to something if she would be so quick to hide the instrument, he confronted her.
The girl looked up surprised at her father’s accusation.
“I would never hurt someone that means so much to you, father. You are happy, and I am happy for you. I mean no harm.”
“What is it that you hid so quickly?”
“It is the mirror you gave to mother and that she gave me. She told me to look in it whenever I was lonely. When I do, which has been often, I see her face, smiling and beautiful as I remember it best.” The girl pulled the mirror out and held it up to her father. He reached for it, warm from being under the covers and in the girls hands, and looked at his reflection. A tear came to his eye and he looked to his new wife.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to hold back her own tears, “I never knew, I…” She trailed off, and began to cry. Her face softened and she looked at the little girl as if for the first time. The three stood with each other in the small room as the rain gently eased up outside.
An Introduction
As the time between posts increases, I become more agitated that I cannot think of anything to write about. There is not much going on in current events and I am often too tired, or don't have the time, to write anything original. I feel it is a cop-out to continue to post other people's poetry (not that I'm going to stop, mind you). So, I tried to think of a way to write and not have to be completely original. That's when I got an idea from The Decemberists.
As you will see in my review of their new album below, they wrote three songs based around the folk tale of The Crane Wife. This got me to thinking. I began reading folk tales on-line, which is an enjoyable practice in and of itself, and I decided to try my hand at re-telling some of them. Why do this? Three reasons: 1) I cannot seem to think of anything else to write lately, 2) I would like to bring some great old stories into the light and perhaps shed some new light with my own telling, and 3) it's an excellent writing exercise. So, if for no other reason than to force myself to write, it's worthwhile. And hopefully you'll enjoy the product.
I do not know how much I will change the stories. I plan to keep them true to the original as much as possible, but I may take creative license here and there. My main point is to add the flesh. Folk tales are mostly stories of morals, lessons, and values, and tend to be very minimal. They tell you what they want to tell you and leave out the rest. They are kind of a skeleton of a story and I would like to add in the details, and practice the rule of "show, don't tell", a basic tenant of craft that should be learned in Creative Writing 101. Hopefully I'll succeed. If not, well, all three of you that read this blog can deal with it.
And now my laziness catch...if this only happens once, oh well, it happened once, but hopefully this is something I can make a regular feature. We'll see. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
As you will see in my review of their new album below, they wrote three songs based around the folk tale of The Crane Wife. This got me to thinking. I began reading folk tales on-line, which is an enjoyable practice in and of itself, and I decided to try my hand at re-telling some of them. Why do this? Three reasons: 1) I cannot seem to think of anything else to write lately, 2) I would like to bring some great old stories into the light and perhaps shed some new light with my own telling, and 3) it's an excellent writing exercise. So, if for no other reason than to force myself to write, it's worthwhile. And hopefully you'll enjoy the product.
I do not know how much I will change the stories. I plan to keep them true to the original as much as possible, but I may take creative license here and there. My main point is to add the flesh. Folk tales are mostly stories of morals, lessons, and values, and tend to be very minimal. They tell you what they want to tell you and leave out the rest. They are kind of a skeleton of a story and I would like to add in the details, and practice the rule of "show, don't tell", a basic tenant of craft that should be learned in Creative Writing 101. Hopefully I'll succeed. If not, well, all three of you that read this blog can deal with it.
And now my laziness catch...if this only happens once, oh well, it happened once, but hopefully this is something I can make a regular feature. We'll see. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
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