ZimTown

Back on the diamond with the Renner Monarchs

Last night I put a baseball uniform back on. After (last year) going an entire summer without playing organized baseball for the first time since, like, 1986, I was back on the diamond for the Renner Monarchs’ season opener. We played the Harrisburg Woodies in Harrisburg.

Just getting to the game in uniform proved to be difficult. Manager Kevin Knetsch had told me beforehand that my No. 22 jersey hadn’t come in yet, so I just wore a green-sleeved baseball shirt. The Monarchs wear white pants with their green jerseys, and I knew I owned a pair of white baseball pants, as well as green baseball socks, so I didn’t worry too much about digging them up until it was time.
I had gone to Rookies for a late lunch (long story) yesterday and came home to take a nap before the game. I awoke at 6, giving me just enough time to grab my stuff and go. But I couldn’t find my white pants. I found literally eight pairs of gray pants (I used to manage amateur teams that wore gray pants), but the white pants — which I KNOW I have somewhere — were nowhere to be found. Neither were the green socks.
So…great. My first game with a new team — a team that has won seven state championships since 2001 — and I have no jersey, no hat, no socks and the wrong colored pants.

Fortunately when I got to the game (after a stop at a Harrisburg gas station that didn’t have regular sunflower seeds, only flavored ones, seriously, what is the deal with the flavored sunflower seeds, people?) Knetsch had brought a few old jerseys for the new guys that didn’t have one yet. He had hats, too, but my head is enormous, and the biggest he had was a 7 1/2. I wear a 7 3/4. As I write this, I’m wearing a cap that I can’t really pull down over my forehead.

Juan Thomas feels my pain. The 41-year-old former Canary who hit 291 career homers in the minor leagues, couldn’t fit into any of the jerseys we had, so he went to a printing shop and had them put ‘35’ on the back of a T-shirt and ‘Renner’ on the front. But he had to go with white, because they didn’t have any green T-shirts that were big enough.

But Juan rocked the white T confidently, so I didn’t worry about my pants or socks (nobody said anything about my gray pants, but a couple guys commented on my lack of colored hosiery).

I arrived at the park at roughly the same time as Matt Wilber, the longtime Dell Rapids Mudcat standout and former USF and SDSU basketball assistant, and since we’re both new, we latched onto each other to warm up, even after he was informed he would be the game’s starting pitcher.

We started throwing, and within  minutes, everything was back to normal. It was like I had never taken a year off. The pregame routine was still familiar. My arm felt good. I enjoyed the feel and sound of the ball popping in my glove. I was 18 again.

I knew I wasn’t going to be in the starting lineup, but I looked forward to taking infield. When we did I went to third base, and that’s when the year off hit me. I didn’t quite remember how to execute ‘one-and-cover’, and got confused on who was supposed to take a throw from the outfield, nearly getting Eric DeJong, our starting third baseman, maimed.
When it was time to field a grounder, I bobbled the first one that came my way. Then, after chasing after it and picking it up, I one-hopped the throw past Knetsch, our first baseman and manager. Ugh.
I fielded the next one cleanly, and when I threw to first I thought, ‘that felt good, nice throw’. But it was another one-hopper. At this point I wondered if I should’ve stayed retired.

As the game got going, though, I watched and realized that while most of the guys out there were better than me (certainly all of the guys on our team), this is a game I’ve played for a long time, and used to be kinda good at. I told myself that I needed to remember that. Yeah, I’m on a team with a bunch of former college studs, but there was a time when I used to take pride in competing against and holding my own with those kinda guys. I might not be able to so much anymore, but dammit, I might as well tell myself I can.

On the strength of a 7-run 2nd inning we took a big lead, and I realized I would probably get into the game eventually. I actually got pretty pumped. I tried to remember the swagger I used to take with me to the plate when I was 16, more than half my life ago (good God).

I told myself that when I got to the plate, a laser show would ensue.

I came up in the 7th, with us leading 13-3. David Borchardt, maybe the best player on this year’s Augustana team, had just struck out.
I tried so hard to be relaxed and confident but damn I was nervous. It had been almost two years since I’d stepped in the box. I tried hard to empty my thoughts, but like Dan Aykroyd in Ghostbusters, I couldn’t.

‘Swing hard’
‘Take til you get a strike’
‘Keep your hands back’
‘He wouldn’t throw a first pitch breaking ball, would he?’
‘Just don’t strike out’

All those thoughts ran through my mind. When the first two pitches both missed badly, giving me a 2-0 count, I got some of the swagger back.

‘OK, meat. Lets see it.’

I was geared up for a cock shot (that phrase is not as inappropriate as it sounds), but the pitcher either threw a change-up or a really slow ‘get-me-over’ fastball. Lacking confidence in my own bat-speed, I lunged forward. I was caught out on my front foot. But I had kept my hands back, and managed to throw them at a truly meaty, begging-to-be-crushed pitch.
And flied out lazily to shallow left field.

On one hand I was upset because I knew that in a 2-0 count against an average pitcher I should get a hit, but on the other, it was my first AB in two years and I made fairly solid contact.

I went out to third base for the bottom of the inning and didn’t have to field anything, as Augie right-hander Sam Gotham basically blew away the three guys he faced (thank God, I was wearing my cup in my compression shorts instead of a jock and that’s a mistake I’ll never make again).
It was a 13-3 win. Not bad for having almost no practices.

But for me, the most important thing was realizing that coming back out to play again was the right decision. I only played one inning and I had a blast.

It’s gonna be a fun summer.

Gardy still stinks at bullpen’n.

Last night in Atlanta, the Twins were in position to snap their losing streak at six. Anthony Swarzak (who is apparently kinda good now) threw four strong in relief to give the Twins a chance, and on came Glen Perkins in the ninth to save it. Perkins was 8-for-8 in save chances coming in.
But he blew it.
That in itself isn’t a real big deal, even though the Twins ended up losing, extending their streak to seven games. Even the greatest closers blow a save now and then, especially when they only have a one-run lead to work with.
What really bothered me, though, was the realization, after looking at the numbers, that Perkins has pitched the fewest innings of anyone in the Twins pen.
He’s their best reliever. And Ron Gardenhire uses him more sparingly than all his other ones.
Now, to be fair, Swarzak is a long man, so he’s going to throw more innings than the closer. And Ryan Pressly appears to be kind of a mop up guy, so maybe he will, too.
But the whole bullpen? If you’re using your best reliever less than all your other ones, you’re doing it wrong.
I’m not saying Perkins blew the save last night because he was rusty. He just made a mistake.
But I am tired of Gardy badly mismanaging his bullpen.
There’s no good reason for Josh Roenicke and Casy Fien to have thrown more innings than Glen Perkins.
None.

Live Chat Day

Twins, Canaries, Storm, whatever. See ya at 2.

Breakfast with the Birds

This is a new one, but hey, give the Canaries credit. They’re not afraid to try new ideas to get people excited about their ballclub.
They’ve already changed the name, now the Birds are inviting fans to the Birdcage for an Opening Day…breakfast?

The Canaries are offering fans free breakfast from 7-9 a.m. Friday at the Birdcage. Players and coaches will be there, and the first 50 fans receive a free ‘The Birds are Back’ T-shirt. Fans will also have a chance to step in the batters box and take some hacks on the field, and can register to win a luxury suite for a game this weekend.

The Birds open the season tonight in Sioux City, then finish the series with Friday’s home opener at 7 p.m.. There’ll be postgame fireworks. The three-game series winds down Sunday afternoon, and it’s worth noting that they’ve finally moved Sunday start times up an hour to 1 p.m.

The Birds are back

Today is media day for the Sioux Falls Canaries Fighting Pheasants Canaries. I’ll be there gathering everything I need for my usual season preview, stuff, which will include a column with me complaining about the second name change. At around 1 p.m. Stu and I will host a special Sports Web Live with Steve Shirley and Ben Moore our guests.

That means no live chat this week. The season opener is Thursday at Sioux City, the home opener is Friday night. There is a chance of rain, but the temp is supposed to be in the 70s. Considering we’ve had a few home openers over the years in the 40s, I’ll take it.

TWTW: Way to go, Scott

I was in desperate need of a day off Sunday, so you’re not getting the typical weekly recap from me. I took a day to enjoy myself with the person who’s most important to me.

But instead of reading my drivel, read this story about my good friend Scott Nelsen. Scott spent several years as the SID at Minnesota State in Mankato, and we became fast friends because, well, he’s about the nicest guy you could ever hope to meet, besides being a devoted champion of MSU athletics.

He was also a big fat guy when I met him, but now he’s not.

Scotty has dropped well over 100 pounds and he isn’t done. The Mankato Free Press caught up with Scott to tell his inspiring story this Sunday, and it’s a worthwhile read.

Congrats, my friend.

Pick a number, any number

After a year away, I’m back playing amateur baseball again this year, for the 15-time state champions of the state, the Renner Monarchs.
While I’m sure I’ll spend most of my time coaching first base, warming up the pitcher between innings and hoping for our hitters to build a big enough lead that I can be trusted to pitch an inning or two of mopup duty, I’m still happy I’ll get to put a uniform on again. I missed it last year, especially during the state tournament, where Brandon Valley (now the Sioux Falls Brewers) defeated the Monarchs for the state title. It was weird covering a game in which I was friends with most of the guys on both teams.

A couple weeks ago, I got a text message from Brian McGuire, a longtime friend dating back to high school and the Monarchs shortstop for the last decade or so. Apparently B-Mac (baseball nicknames are so badass, I know) had been put in charge of ordering the uniforms, and he wanted to know what number I wanted.

This wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, but now Brian had kind of put me on the spot. I’ve never been a guy who obsesses over his jersey number, but it’s not like I don’t care, either. Two numbers I’ve always been vehemently opposed to are 5 and 6. I don’t know why, but both are just completely lacking in personality to me. There aren’t a lot of superstars that wore the number that spring to mind (when I think of 5 I think of, um, I suppose Joe Dimaggio, who I’ve always disliked immensely, and when I think of 6 I think of Tony Oliva - meh), and both numbers just have a shape to them that doesn’t look cool on the back of a jersey.
But other than those two numbers? Whatever.
I can’t recall every number I’ve ever worn in my sports playing days, but I know at one time or another in either baseball, football or basketball I’ve worn 1,4,8,10,11,12,13,16,19,24,25, 34 (in my one-day stint with the Canaries — I tried to sneak out with the jersey, but they were way ahead of me) and 50. I chose 50 for 7th grade basketball and I felt totally stupid the second I took the court wearing it. I was 4-foot-9 and terrible but apparently I thought I was David Robinson.
Through all of my youth I never really had a number that I felt attached to. My senior year for Post 15 East I was No. 1. I didn’t like it, but whatever. In football I wore 19 as a freshman and 16 as a sophomore. I had hoped to stick with 16 (Joe Montana), but when I got to varsity they didn’t have 16. I asked for 20, because I thought it would be cool to be a quarterback that wore No. 20 (kinda like Doug Flutie wearing 22 for Boston College), but no-fun coach Kim Nelson refused. So I took 13 and wore it for my two years on varsity.

That was the first time in my life I’d ever worn the same number for consecutive seasons, so that was enough for me to decide 13 would be my number. When I started playing amateur ball I wore 13 pretty much every year, all the way up through the last season I played, in 2011 with the Renner Roadrunners.

Now, for as long as I’d played amateur ball against the Monarchs, No. 13 had belonged to unintimidating soft-tosser Derek Ohme, one of the most decorated pitchers in amateur baseball history and also an area football referee who doesn’t know how to blow his whistle.
Ohme has kind of been in and out of retirement the last few years, but I didn’t ask if the number was available. Out of respect, I wouldn’t want to wear it even if it was.

McGuire had asked for a few numbers. I gave him 33, 10 and 20.

‘All three of those are taken,’ he said.

Crap. OK, maybe this year is the year to do the Kirby Puckett tribute (even though I’m totally unworthy).

‘How ‘bout 34’

‘Taken’

‘How many (expletive) guys are on this team’ I texted back incredulously.

McGuire suggested 69, and while the Jared Allen tribute was tempting, I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’.

So now I actually took some time to think about it.

I tried to think of some of the players I’d watched in recent years that I really liked and respected, who were the kinds of players I tried to mold myself after.

‘How about 22’ I asked.

‘22 it is’.

22. In tribute to former Twins righty Brad Radke. Always one of my favorites. Radke had been a pitcher I tried to mold myself after in high school. Like me, he didn’t throw really hard or possess some freaky, unhittable breaking pitch. Like me, he was a control specialist and like me, his best pitch was a changeup. Like me, he gave up a lot of home runs. (Click that link, seriously)

But he overcame those shortcomings to have an outstanding career. I also loved the way he approached the game. He was maybe the most unemotional pitcher I’ve ever seen. Complete game shutout or seven earned in two and a third, he had the same emotionless expression at all times.

I got to meet him at Twins Fest in 2002, when I snuck behind a rope while he waited to do a radio interview. I asked him a couple questions about pitching and fishing (because I knew he was a big fishing enthusiast), and asked him to show me how he threw his ‘sinker’ on a baseball I’d brought with to potentially get autographs. He took the ball and patiently told me that his sinker was really just his two-seam fastball, and showed me how he held it and slightly rotated his wrist just as the ball left his hand. I was amazed that he was so nonchalantly nice to me.

Four years later I was in the Twins locker room after Game 2 of the ALDS, when the Twins had lost to fall behind in the series 0-2. Radke had been pitching through a fairly serious shoulder injury down the stretch (there was a crack in his arm socket), and he was going to attempt to pitch through it in Game 3. It would end up being his final start in the big leagues, and most of us knew it that night.
I remember, while me and most of the reporters in the clubhouse surrounded Game 2 starter Boof Bonser to get reaction from the young rookie (who had actually pitched quite well in his playoff debut), some dude who appeared to be a small-town radio guy (very) nervously approached Radke for an interview, and proceeded to ask the dumbest questions I’ve ever heard a major league player subjected to (‘So what’s the deal with your shoulder, anyway?). I could tell Radke was like, ‘Oh, my God this guy is a moron’, but he patiently stood there while getting dressed and gave this guy an interview.
Three days later, his career was over, and I was sad.

But this summer, I’ll be wearing 22 for him. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to find out.

A Rough Draft of the Augie and USF football depth charts

I covered the Augie and USF spring football games over the last two weekends. USF’s defense handled its offense pretty good, while Augie didn’t even really play a game, just holding a public practice session.
With USF having graduated 25 seniors and Augustana transitioning to a new coaching staff, it’s obviously a new era for both teams. That meant there was plenty to be curious about heading into the spring games, and plenty to try to keep tabs on.
Neither coaching staff has been very helpful in helping to identify potential starters (which is understandable), so this is my attempt to give you a rough idea of who appears — and I stress the word appears — to be in the No. 1 slot on the depth chart on offense and defense for both teams.
I basically just tried to eyeball it — so in no way should this be considered official or anything. I can’t guarantee its accuracy.
But hopefully it at least gives football-hungry fans something to chew on.

Augie
QB - Justin Heinrich (Jr.)/Trey Heid (RFr.)
RB - Dajon Newell (Jr.)
FB - CJ Ham (So.)
WR - Grant Gebhardt (Jr.)
WR - Darren Niklason (Sr.)/Matt Gerry (Jr.)
TE - Nick Lee (Jr.)
OL - Sam Lee (So.)
OL - Brian Long (So.)
OL - Chris Mathieu (RFr.)
OL - Bruce Manz (Sr.)
OL - Nick Pappas (Jr.)
* Justin and Jason Greenway took carries at RB during the spring game with Newell and Ham both injured.

DL - Joel Slinden (Sr.)
DL - Jake Lee (Jr.)
DL - Paul Ingram (Sr.)
DL - Zach Sirek (Sr.)
LB - Nate Kirby (Jr.)
LB - Ross Peterson (Sr.)
LB - Ben Skelly (Jr.)
DB - Thomas Vanasek (Sr.)
DB - Anthony Tucker (Sr.)
DB - Devon Alber (Sr.)
DB - Garrett Earl (So.)


USF
QB - Calvin Jacobson (So.)
RB - Brady Rose (RFr.)/Nephi Garcia (Jr.)
WR - Carrington Hanna (Sr.)
WR - Garrett Shutt (Jr.)
WR - Josh Angulo (RFr.)/Kyle Athmann (RFr.)
TE - Austin Van Hove (Sr.)
OL - Terry Huber (RFr.)
OL - Max Koehn (RFr.)
OL - Antonio Oliver (Jr.)
OL - Trevor Westcott (RFr.)
OL - Sam Dooyema (Sr.)
* OL JT Surgant (Jr.) did not play in the spring game. He’s a starter. Derek Delaney (Jr.) also did not play, and is a candidate to start.

DL - Devin Flesher (Sr.)
DL - Jarrett Grabbe (Jr.)
DL - Grant Schindler (So.)
LB - Michael Tolkamp (Jr.)
LB - Clint Wilson (So.)
LB - Jonathan Talbot (Sr.)
LB - Raymond Batista (Jr.)
DB - Jeremy Hudson (RFr.)
DB - Solomon St. Pierre (So.)
DB - Jordan Johnson (Sr.)
DB - John Tidwell (So.)

This Bill Dance blooper video is the funniest thing I saw this week

Unstable patio furniture?
Middle-aged men falling in lakes?
Runaway trolling motors?
Labradors shot out of cannons?
It’s all here.

“Ded Gummit!”

So long, Chris Kluwe

Over the last couple years, Chris Kluwe became my favorite player in the NFL.
That isn’t as significant as it may sound — while a lot of thought goes into picking a favorite player as a kid, when you grow up, you find yourself rooting ever more for the laundry. It feels kind of silly to have a ‘favorite player’ when you’re an adult, because they’re an adult and you’re an adult, too. In some respects, they’re just another working stiff like you. They just have cooler jobs.

There are exceptions, of course, but you pick those favorite players for different reasons. Justin Morneau is my favorite Twin — maybe ever — because I like his style. He’s a hockey guy in cleats, subtly funny in interviews, friendly with fans and media, etc.

Ricky Rubio is my favorite basketball player because he’s ridiculously fun to watch.

Kluwe became my favorite player because he’s a bright, interesting, articulate, individual in a league of robots, in a league that discourages true characters.
And on Monday, my favorite team cut him. I’m sad about that.

Kluwe made plenty of headlines and became the most famous punter in the world due to his activism on gay rights, and while I applaud his efforts on this issue because they are aligned with my own views, that actually had little to do with my becoming such a fan of his.

I admire Kluwe more for his refusal to let himself be defined by his job. For his courage to be himself. For his willingness to take on sacred cows, mix it up with fans and media, and for his understanding that there are more important things in life than football, and that it’s OK, even for football players themselves, to admit that.

Kluwe’s letter to a Maryland senator that tried to silence Ravens linebacker Brendan Ayanbadejo for his support of gay marriage was an epic and fairly courageous piece of work, but it was hardly the first time Kluwe showed off his intellect and humor in writing.

It started (for me, anyway) with these comics he crudely drew up to explain (correctly) why the owners were the bad guys in the NFL lockout.

He called out Peyton Manning and other NFL stars for holding up a lockout agreement, and when a former practice squad tight end-turned writer named Nate Jackson wrote that Kluwe had no business weighing in because he’s a punter, Kluwe responded with one of the greatest rebuttals of all time.

Later there was the piece about gay marriage, his rant about Ray Guy being continually left out of the Hall of Fame, and an eye-opening letter detailing just how bad the replacement refs were.
He even made one of those Hitler video parodies about the lockout, which I’d link to, but I’d get in trouble (look it up on youtube, it’s worth it).

Kluwe plays in a band, he’s an avid video gamer, he even did a Gangam style dance after a punt back when nobody knew what it was (normally I might hold that against him, but it was kinda funny).

None of these things make him extraordinary, really, except for the fact that he’s also a pretty good NFL punter.
What surprised me, though, is how many people think Kluwe’s off-field interests were somehow a bad thing, or that they detracted from his work.

Kluwe is a punter, not a quarterback. If you’ve ever been to a football practice, you know that punters aren’t asked to do a whole lot, and besides, the idea that athletes must always be living, breathing, thinking, studying football, or baseball, or basketball, is stupid anyway.
Yet tons of Vikings fans seem to think that’s how it should be, as Star Tribune stories this week were inundated with comments from fans applauding the Vikings for getting rid of a punter who ‘wasn’t focused on football’.
Even Kluwe’s own position coach last year made it clear he was tired of Kluwe’s off-field interests, which included wearing a patch on his shirt supporting Ray Guy for the Hall of Fame.
Geez, what a punk.

If you’re a banker, would you be OK with someone telling you to quit wasting your time training for marathons on weekends and focus on banking?
If you’re a construction worker, are you OK with someone saying, ‘Instead of spending all day Sunday watching football and all of your weeknights reading about football maybe you could’ve got that road finished sooner’?
Why is it any different for Kluwe?
The idea that writing humor columns for deadspin or sitting for interviews with Stephen Colbert or spending his nights playing World of Warcraft or his guitar were interfering with his punting is stupid.

Kluwe has been a consistently good-but-not-quite-great punter for his entire Vikings career. At no point should his off-field interests be held against him.

A lot has been said and written in recent days suggesting that the Vikings replaced Kluwe because he was becoming a distraction. The idea that Kluwe supporting gay marriage or playing in a band could somehow affect the way Christian Ponder throws the ball or Phil Loadholt blocks or Leslie Frazier coaches is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but that doesn’t mean the Vikings might not be playing that card.
But I don’t think they are. From a pure football standpoint, replacing Kluwe with fifth-round draft pick Jeff Locke is a solid risk that will save money and probably won’t hurt the team that bad even if it fails.
Maybe I’m naive in thinking Kluwe’s personality had nothing to do with the move. But when you consider how well replacing Ryan Longwell with Blair Walsh worked out, and the fact that Kluwe was due to make $1.45 million this year and was one of only four players on the roster over the age of 30, I think Rick Spielman deserves the benefit of the doubt (special teams coach Mike Priefer, on the other hand, does not).

I assume Kluwe will find work elsewhere. If he doesn’t, it would make all of this ‘would a team accept a gay player’ talk a little more interesting.
Yes, we’ll accept a gay player, but not a straight player who campaigns for gay rights.

I’ll still be a Vikings fan, and I’ll still be a Kluwe fan. He’s one of the rare athletes who refused to keep his head down and color inside the lines as another worker drone on the assembly line.
He’s a reminder to all of us that what we do for a living is not what we are.

(Live Chat today at 2 p.m.)