"PLAY BALL!"
Imagine...you're standing in the sunken center of an ancient crater that some know as Fenway Park (pronounced 'Paak', by its closest supporters). You're right there, pinpointed on that brown bump of dirt at the hub of the oldest active stadium in professional baseball. You're surrounded by a countless mob of raucous and (most-likely) inebriated fans (let's face it; it's opening day baseball, Sox-Yankees in Beantown...you think even half those people are sober?). They're casting their bellows down at you from all sorts of random angles in this awkwardly structured, haphazardly fenced, green monstrosity of a building they call a sporting venue. Some deride you. Most applaud you. All hold their collective breath and wait. Paralyzed with excitement. Riddled with anxiety. Wide-eyed. Fixed. Honed. Laser-beamed in....on you.
Imagine...you're standing in the sunken center of an ancient crater that some know as Fenway Park (pronounced 'Paak', by its closest supporters). You're right there, pinpointed on that brown bump of dirt at the hub of the oldest active stadium in professional baseball. You're surrounded by a countless mob of raucous and (most-likely) inebriated fans (let's face it; it's opening day baseball, Sox-Yankees in Beantown...you think even half those people are sober?). They're casting their bellows down at you from all sorts of random angles in this awkwardly structured, haphazardly fenced, green monstrosity of a building they call a sporting venue. Some deride you. Most applaud you. All hold their collective breath and wait. Paralyzed with excitement. Riddled with anxiety. Wide-eyed. Fixed. Honed. Laser-beamed in....on you.
Imagine...having that much power in the palm of your hand. Who knew back when it all started in Scotland in 18shdefjc that a little rubber core wrapped in cowhide leather would one day mean so much to so many. There you are; 60 feet, 6 inches separating you and your teammates from the start of a very long, very arduous road. You get the sign. Fastball. Four-seam. Inside corner. You nod. You step back. You wind-up. A sudden blitzkrieg of photon explosions envelopes the whole of your periphery. But it is of little distraction. You're honed in now. You're blind to everything but that zone, that mitt, that little spot, that little window on the inside corner. Your arm loads up. Your wrist cock. And just as the ball jettisons out of your grasp...just in that fraction of a fractions' fraction of a moment when the seams leave the sliver's edge of your fingertip...it happens.
The season starts.
So...can you tell I'm a little bit excited? Sure, this is a highly dramatized of the scene that will take place about 50 minutes from now, but what can I say? Opening day really brings out the drama in me. Before I ramble any farther ahead , I should introduce myself. Hi. I'm Bullfrog. And I'll be your slightly informed, vaguely prophetic, egregiously verbose "information guide," if you will, as we venture through the 2010 MLB season following everyone's favorite 27-time world championship franchise: The New York Yankees. I have been a Yankees fan for about as long as I can remember anything. The 1996 World Series was the first time in my life I can remember being whole-heatedly invested in any sports team that I didn't play for, and since then, the Yankees have been my crack. Crack, the drug. Not the part of your...yeah...anyway...
Basically, I've been an avid fan, and maybe even a more avid critic (contradiction of terms?) of the Bombers for many a moon, and since I'm trying to break into the field of sports journalism/media, a blog about the Yankees feels like the right choice at this juncture of my life. I figured it was time I have something to use as a conversational/showcase piece to potential employers. Plus everyone in the media has a blog these days. It's fun! It's easy! (Note: This is not a plug for blogspot, although this site really easy to use; props to the code monkeys...okay so I guess that was kind of a plug for blogspot, ha.) And it's about something I have way too much pent-up passion about. It is essentially the ideal outlet for my emotional and occupational well-being. How's that for a rigorous self-analysis?
So my goal with all this is to provide as objective an evaluation of the Yanks' progress throughout the course of the season, both strengths and weaknesses, good and bad decisions, as well as to provide some counterpoints and critique of the opinions of some fellow sports evaluators in the business who actually get paid to do this in a professional forum. Don't worry, this isn't gonna be one of those 'I'm the next Jim Rome' kind of deals...though that's mainly because you won't see my face or hear my voice. But you shall feel the acrid sting of my pretentious, English-majory words suckers! HAHAHA!
Oh relax, reader (all 1 of you who may or may not be reading this awful post right now...thanks girlfriend!). I'll be sure to shell out praise and credit as much as I do blame and chastisement. So without further to do, as they say in the Bronx...
"PLAY FREAKIN' BALL ALREADY!!!"
P.S. - I actually love Fenway. Don't get too comfortable though Sox fans. I'll give you something to curse my name about soon enough.
The season starts.
So...can you tell I'm a little bit excited? Sure, this is a highly dramatized of the scene that will take place about 50 minutes from now, but what can I say? Opening day really brings out the drama in me. Before I ramble any farther ahead , I should introduce myself. Hi. I'm Bullfrog. And I'll be your slightly informed, vaguely prophetic, egregiously verbose "information guide," if you will, as we venture through the 2010 MLB season following everyone's favorite 27-time world championship franchise: The New York Yankees. I have been a Yankees fan for about as long as I can remember anything. The 1996 World Series was the first time in my life I can remember being whole-heatedly invested in any sports team that I didn't play for, and since then, the Yankees have been my crack. Crack, the drug. Not the part of your...yeah...anyway...
Basically, I've been an avid fan, and maybe even a more avid critic (contradiction of terms?) of the Bombers for many a moon, and since I'm trying to break into the field of sports journalism/media, a blog about the Yankees feels like the right choice at this juncture of my life. I figured it was time I have something to use as a conversational/showcase piece to potential employers. Plus everyone in the media has a blog these days. It's fun! It's easy! (Note: This is not a plug for blogspot, although this site really easy to use; props to the code monkeys...okay so I guess that was kind of a plug for blogspot, ha.) And it's about something I have way too much pent-up passion about. It is essentially the ideal outlet for my emotional and occupational well-being. How's that for a rigorous self-analysis?
So my goal with all this is to provide as objective an evaluation of the Yanks' progress throughout the course of the season, both strengths and weaknesses, good and bad decisions, as well as to provide some counterpoints and critique of the opinions of some fellow sports evaluators in the business who actually get paid to do this in a professional forum. Don't worry, this isn't gonna be one of those 'I'm the next Jim Rome' kind of deals...though that's mainly because you won't see my face or hear my voice. But you shall feel the acrid sting of my pretentious, English-majory words suckers! HAHAHA!
Oh relax, reader (all 1 of you who may or may not be reading this awful post right now...thanks girlfriend!). I'll be sure to shell out praise and credit as much as I do blame and chastisement. So without further to do, as they say in the Bronx...
"PLAY FREAKIN' BALL ALREADY!!!"
P.S. - I actually love Fenway. Don't get too comfortable though Sox fans. I'll give you something to curse my name about soon enough.
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