Quirky Superstitions

A friend of mine said she described me to another person as being “quirky and eccentric.”

Well, I’m certainly not eccentric. I don’t have enough money to be considered as such. The difference between “eccentric” and simply “weird” is based upon income. You can follow the psychological definition of a mental status by finances. Rich equals “eccentric.” Middle income can be considered “weird” or “different.” Poverty level is “insane.”

I’ll take “different.”

But I’ll grant her that I may be quirky at times.

And some of that quirk comes from sports, I’m sure. There are quirky superstitions sports fans have to follow in order to lead their team to victory. You know — don’t talk about an ongoing no-hitter; wear the lucky pair of socks, pants, hat, etc., during games; sit on the correct side of the couch when watching games on television; park in the same spot if you can when attending games live. The list goes on.

And in my case, and this may be the quirky part, it carries over to the replay game I love and write about. There are several obsessive-compulsive things I do during games. For instance, I roll the dice on a computer mouse pad. If the dice goes off the pad, it doesn’t count. Dice have to stay on the pad.

If a pitcher in my replay games gives up six earned runs in six innings and I take him out, I won’t write on the score card the “6-6-6” he earns for the number of innings, runs and earned runs. I’ll leave the runs off first and write in the walks and strike outs first. Can’t be summoning the devil with the evil number during replays, now.

Also, I won’t leave in the middle of a game that I’m playing. I stay to the end, and at times that’s difficult when it’s 2 a.m. and a game goes into extra innings. It’s also becoming a bit more of a task since my last doctor’s visit. The doc put me on a diarrhetic to help get fluid off because I’m old and a fat ass and yada yada... The point is the pill has a tendency to create situations. Nothing worse than a rain delay in a game, if you get my drift. 

I also compile the games’ final scores, update the standings and keep up with the little statistics that I do the same way after every game. The routine is compulsive, but I figure it works since I’ve been playing APBA for 35 years now.

So, it’s superstitious, quirky, weird, insane. But it is what it is and I’ll continue doing it the same way. I’m hoping one day I’ll make enough that my actions are considered only “eccentric.”

When a Season Ends

The end of any sports season is sad in itself, but I include a ritualistic ceremony that makes the completion of whatever sports I’m obsessing over that much more forlorn.

After the last World Series pitch is thrown, after the victors parade the  Stanley Cup around the ice, the colored confetti falls from the Super Bowl stadium and the coach snips the netting from the winning team’s basketball goal, I sit for a moment and reflect.

Then, the ritual begins.

Sadly, I take the preview magazine of whatever season just concluded and move it from my living room coffee table back to a bedroom closet where all old sporting magazines go.

Since I’m not married, I have no one telling me I can’t put things on the coffee table. I’m not even sure why it’s called a “coffee table.” I don’t put coffee there. My table is generally covered with the preview magazines, Sports Illustrateds and Hockey News. 

I just moved the baseball preview publication back to the closet shelf, stacking it with years of other magazines. I’ve done it for years, now.

I don’t think I’m a hoarder by any means. I’ve never had the health department come in with masks and expressions of morbid disgust and I can easily maneuver around my home without tripping over anything I collect. I mean, it’s only one shelf where the magazines reside.

Instead, I think it’s the reluctance of letting the season go. Sure, there’s another one ahead. Sports is never ending. There are more magazines to buy and seasons to watch. But the passing of a season is rather sad. We watch it in its entirety, know the personalities of the players and teams, learn the quirky stories that accompany the games and become immersed in it all.

I don’t know why I keep the old magazines. I may use the schedules printed in them whenever I decided to do an APBA season replay. I don’t frequent the magazines that much other than maybe to quickly reminisce on a team or a player of ago. 

Soon, the college and pro football magazines will be placed in the closet shelf. The college basketball preview will go there in April. And the NHL preview ... I have no idea when I’ll put that away. There may be no season at all; I could shelf it now for that matter.

So, when the season ends, I pick up the magazine and carry it like a Tibetan monk back to the sacred back bedroom closet and stack it with the rest of them. I’m not a hoarder, but it is tough letting that stuff go.

The Streak Ends

After losing 26 games in a row  in my 1981 APBA baseball replay game, the Minnesota Twins’ streak is over. It took them a Pete Mackanin home run in the 12th inning to beat Seattle, and what had become a routine of suffering for me has ended

I opted to replay the 1981 season for two purposes. One was to correct the baseball strike that split the real season in half. The division almost rendered that year irrelevant. The playoffs system that ensued didn’t seem real  what with the first and second half division winners playing each other to advance to the league championships. The L.A. Dodgers’ World Series victory didn’t carry the credibility that a full season win would have.

The second reason for that year’s replay was for a more personal basis. My college girlfriend moved to New York to attend art school in the fall of 1980 and we didn’t make it. I learned that absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. It makes it forget. That New Year’s Eve of 1980 was the last day I saw her. The following year began sadly for me in the way  that lost love renders all things for youngsters. 

So, I tried to rely on ensuing baseball campaign in the spring of 1981 to quell the loss. But that season broke, like my heart, and for over a month in midsummer, there were no games; the parks were empty, the bats silence and, in my stat-addled world, the newspaper was vacant of box scores.

Forward 31 years to now. I began to replay the 1981 season in December to see how things would have turned out had there been no strike. I wanted also to focus on a season that, when the teams were actually playing, I didn’t totally pay attention to. Each baseball year is a gift and, as a fan, I felt I should have devoted more heed to it. Instead of moping, I should have followed the game.

But in an attempt to right my emotional wrong of 1981, I brought back another world of hurt. Those dang Twins couldn’t win, and it got to the point of being ridiculous. After they lost their first 10 games, I began wondering if they would win. The next 10 loses came and went as well and it reached absurdity.

They tied the 1961 Philadelphia Phillies’ 23-game losing streak, which set the actual baseball record for futility. And they lost three more.

I play four or five games a day, so it takes about three days of replays to complete one real day of baseball. The Twins’ streak lasted more than two months in my replay.

The Twins’ victory almost didn’t happen. The team built a 7-2 lead in the sixth inning of its game against Seattle, but gave up four runs in the sixth inning on seven singles. I felt the doom approaching that came 26 times before, the realization that the team I grew up with was going to lose yet another game. Dave Engle hit a homer for Minnesota in the top of the eighth and the Twins led, 8-6. But Richie Zisk (remember him?) hit a two-run home run in the bottom of the inning and the teams were tied.

Mackanin, who hit only four home runs in the real season, popped his with two outs in the 12th and the Twins hung on.

Now, I reflect back on that 26-game streak as well as my life in 1981. I once went to a relationship counselor on the bequest of another girlfriend who, after I questioned his motives, told me I analyzed things too much. “What do you mean by that?” I queried him.

Maybe I do overanalyze things and try to find meaning in all, including this 1981 season. I’ll have to ponder on that one. In the meantime, the Twins’ next replay game is 11 games away for me and they play Seattle again. It’ll take three or four more days to get to that game. They’ve won one game now. Let’s see if they can start a new streak.

More Woe is Minnesota, 1981

“August 2, 1981 CLEVELAND (AP) — The Minnesota Twins took a 6-0 advantage into the fourth inning against the Cleveland Indians, but bumbled its lead, losing 7-6 and extending its winless streak to 22 games.
Miguel Dilone hit a bases loaded triple to drive in the winning runs for the Indians. “Miguel Dilone?” asked Twins reliever Doug Corbett who gave up the hit and was saddled with the loss. “Who is Miguel Dilone?”

Minnesota still had a chance in the top of the ninth, but Indians’ reliever Sid Monge mowed down Minnesota like a yard boy with a new Briggs and Stratton engine. Danny Goodwin ended the game striking out.

Twins manager Billy Gardner did not attend a post game press conference and sources said team members had to talk Gardner off the ledge of the downtown Ritz-Carlton where the team was staying.

Minnesota will head to California where it will attempt to lose its 23rd game in a row and tie the 1961 Philadelphia Phillies for futility.”

See how serious the APBA game I am playing is getting? I’m actually writing news stories about fictitious games. But that’s the draw of this baseball replay game. During the several days between the Twins’ 21st loss and their 22nd loss, I found myself thinking about their upcoming game.

Will they win and end this horrible streak? Will they lose and draw out the pain even further? 

I’ve said this so many  times before. The game is a great diversion from the reality we face. We have an upcoming presidential election that, based on campaign advertisements, we’re doomed which ever way the outcome is. Holidays are looming, which is a bit depressing for me since I have no family at all. And because I am in the newspaper business, I chronicle mostly bad things that people do.

So, the game is a great distraction and a calming point for me. Even if I spend my time contemplating on how I may become the worst manager ever in APBA history.