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.

Woe is Minnesota, 1981

I now have an inkling of what Gene Mauch felt like in the summer of 1961.

Mauch, the manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, watched 51 years ago as his team embarked on a 23-game losing streak. It is the record for futility in the World Series era of Major League Baseball.

Comparatively, in my APBA baseball game replay of the strike-shortened 1981 season, the Minnesota Twins — nay, my favorite team the Minnesota Twins — are engaged in a similar journey. Through my skillful managing, the 1981 Twins have now lost 21 games in a row and counting.

The APBA game is an ingenious one based on statistical occurrences. The game company computes batting and pitching tendencies and replicates those on individual players’ cards.  Fans of the game roll dice and replay baseball seasons with those cards. I’ve been doing some version of the game since 1977.

Despite the math-geekiness sound to it, the game doesn’t always stick to statistical probabilities, algorithms and frequencies. There’s always an anomaly or two in each season I’ve played. In my 1957 replay, Mickey Mantle played horribly and the Chicago White Sox actually won the American League pennant over the real life winner, Mantle’s Yankees.  Kansas City couldn't lose in 1987, beating out the real life winner Minnesota Twins for the pennant that year.

This one, however, is the worst. I’ve juggled the 1981 Twins’ lineup a bit, hoping for some stroke of luck that will end the losing streak. I generally stick to the suggested lineups the game company provides, but if a player seems to be “hot,” I may move him up in the order to utilize his bat more efficiently.

It hasn’t worked for the Twins.

Minnesota had the powerful bats of John Castino, Rob Wilfong, Hosken Powell, Glenn Adams and Danny Goodwin. Not heard of them, you say? Well, join the club. And I lived in Minnesota.

In my replay, the Twins led only one time in their 21-game kaputt. The streak began on July 7, 1981, against California. Their latest loss, to Cleveland, happened on Aug. 1, 1981. Only six games were loses by two runs or less. Only two games extended into extra innings.

Their pitching staff didn’t render fear in the hearts of man, either. Fernando Arroyo, Don Cooper, Pete Redfern. I guess, in those days, the ol’ adage, “Spahn and Sain and pray rain” became: “Erickson and pray for work stoppage.”

Which was what actually happened in the real season. The 1981 season was disrupted by a baseball strike. And here’s the irony: When I began this 1981 replay last December, I decided to play the full season. The strike never happened in my game. And, on the inverse, the games my replay Twins are playing never actually happened.

So, I roll on and hope each time Minnesota plays a game. I average maybe five games a day, so the Twins don’t play but every four or five games here. I have a few days to prepare for yet another loss.

On an interesting historical note, Mauch, the manager of the ill-fated 1961 Phillies, actually managed Minnesota. His last season with the Twins was in 1980. Maybe he saw the handwriting on the wall and left, leading the California Angels in 1981, because he didn’t want to be associated with my own poor managing skills.

Begrudging Sports

The kid wearing the Washington Nationals baseball cap backwards in the grocery story ticked me off the other day.

It was the night Washington beat St. Louis in Game 4 of the National League Division series and sporting a cap of such in Cardinals’ country wasn’t a great idea. So I told him. I actually scolded him for wearing the wrong hat. “Dude,” I said, trying to reach his generation with my hip talk. “That ain’t cool.”

And then I realized, I was a crotchety old man complaining about the kid’s team. But that realization didn’t last and my sports grudge flared again.

A week later, I spoke to a woman who, offhandedly, said she was a Washington Redskins fan. I immediately said something about them beating my beloved Vikings last week. My anger rose again.

Those kinds of grudges stick with me apparently. I’ve forgiven people who’ve stolen from me, ex-girlfriends who broke my heart and my parents for moving from Minnesota. But I hold on to sports things for a long, long time.

My first grudge developed at a very early age. The Washington Redskins beat my Vikings on a last-second play once when I was but a grade school imp. I asked my father where I could get enough explosives to blow up the nation’s capital city. Musings of a small kid, sure. But I still remember today that anger I felt over the game. It stays with you.

In 1975, the Dallas Cowboys beat the Vikings on quarterback Roger Staubach’s Hail Mary pass to Drew Pearson. I thought it was blatant offensive pass interference on the Cowboys. The referees thought otherwise and I felt the utter crush of defeat. I also felt a rising hatred for Dallas.

I also harbor ill feelings toward the Boston Red Sox. Coming back from a three-game deficit to beat the New York Yankees was bad enough in 2004. They added the fuel to my burning dislike of them when they swept the Cardinals in the World Series.

I am over a half-century old. Some of these offenses I still cling to happened four decades ago. It may be time to let it go.

But it’s hard and that’s what gives the characteristics of sports fans. It’s more fun to root for a team you have reasons to hate. A victory over that particular team gives an added enjoyment. On the inverse, getting beat by a grudge team hurts and it perpetuates the discord and the everlasting hatred.  

There are more teams to form grudges against. I’m developing one now for the San Francisco Giants as they battle the Cardinals in the National League Championship Series. It’s a minor thing now, but if the Giants win on some controversial play, or they injure a Cardinals’ star it’ll develop fully.

I’m sure there are people in San Francisco now who are working on their own grudges against St. Louis.

I’ll return to the grocery store where the Washington cap-wearing fan was and I’ll try to understand my sports obsession and my grudges that last lifetimes. And even though it may be a problem, at least I maintained some civility and didn’t knock that hat off his head.

Yet.

America's Real Debate

I  signed up for an online survey about last week’s presidential debate to answer questions that ultimately would end up on CBS News before I realized that the event coincided with the last day of the baseball season.

Here, in Cardinals’ Country, St. Louis’ game against Cincinnati was not a pivotal game. The National League playoffs had already been set. The American League teams were also set, it was  just a matter of who played who.

So, I had to weigh the importance of both. The debate versus the baseball games. American politics versus the American game. I debated myself over my choices. Debate leader Jim Leher or fair balls?

The debate, the first of three planned, focused on the economy. In these troubled times, economic recovery is important to the country. It would be interesting to see what each candidate had to offer while making veiled promises to fix everything and set us back on the right track.

So, I pondered my choices. I was a conscientious American and, like millions of others, had a stake in the presidential election. Although, personally, I don’t think the effects of whoever wins next month will trickle down to me that much. Still, this was America and it was an important night.

I chose what to watch as a red-blooded American. I picked the most important event, the one that had a longer-lasting impact on us all. 

I chose the baseball games. Romney against Obama? Give me Yankees and the Red Sox. Even the Cardinals’ game, which featured a lot of the team’s Triple A players from Memphis held my interest more.

And that’s said, what with me being in news. 

I did glance at the debate during pitching changes and when the innings ended, so I got a feel for what was going on. And I did participate in the after-debate online survey that simply asked my impression of each candidate on a basic semantic scale.

It’s a measure of what an imbecile I am, I guess. I couldn’t repeat what Romney’s stance is on cutting taxes and stimulating economy. I don’t know Obama’s plans on boosting employment. But I know the Cardinals are a good two-strike hitting team and Detroit has the one-two combination of pitching and hitting to make a playoff run.

Republican versus Democrat? Bah. American League versus National League is far more compelling for me. Ah, sports addiction.

Computer Illiteracy, LOL

In this world of hi-tech devices of wireless internet, instant information, apps and other gadgets, I remain pretty primitive when it comes to computers. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Maybe it’s because I am computer illiterate and fear anything new, frightened of being so far left behind that I come across as a doddering old man.

Oh, sure. I have an iPhone — provided by work. And I use it like everyone else: checking scores, looking at the internet while afield and calling up  weather radars to see if rain is headed my way. Why, the other day I attended a college football game and even used the iPhone to find the scores of other games in progress. I thought I was pretty 21st century until I saw the hordes of others in the stands doing the same thing.

For the most part, I reject the pageantry of gadgetry. Wi-Fi? Why fight it, you say. It’s here to stay and we are evolving into info geeks with large thumbs and a new language used for chatting. LOL.

But this may be why I embrace the dice game of APBA. It’s simple, doesn’t require electricity and I’m not handicapped if a computer breaks down or the power goes out. Give me a dice, a pen and ambient light and I’m fine. 

I remember a debate I saw on an internet message board for the game company once. A person was crowing about the computerized version of the baseball replay game. He said he set his lineups up and chose managerial styles for his teams and then left his home for the weekend. When he returned, the season was completed, the statistics compiled and a champion crowned. But what’s the fun in that?  It takes forever to complete a dice-rolled season, but at least you’re part of it. You see it develop game by game and, while it may be old fashioned, there is the excitement associated with each game, much like in real life. 

I’m sure I sound like some crotchety old-timer harping on about newfangled contraptions and all. Of course, it’s easy for me to shun the technology. I grew up in a time when ESPN didn’t exist and we relied either on local evening news for sports reports or the newspapers for baseball standings. West coast games? Forget about it. They were never completed before the papers went to press, so editors simply put “N” by the game indicating it was played at night.

So, while we hurtle toward more instant information (I predict one day we’ll have chips implanted in our brains and contact lenses to receive internet in our vision), I continue to grasp an old tradition that I learned as a child and hope to continue on for years to come.

Longevity of the Game

A friend of mine recently said she met a couple who had been married for 70 years. My first question was whether the couple still liked each other after all that time. I mean, each has seen seven decades of changes in the other person and chose to stay together.

But my second thought was the dedication to consistency they shared and I pondered on my own longevity.  Obviously, not being 70 years old yet, I’ve not done anything close to the time this couple shared.

I pondered. The longest I’ve stayed at a job is the one I have now — 15 years now. I was married 11 and a half years before my wife passed away. Next month, I’ll have lived in this state for 21 years.

So I realized, the longest thing I’ve done consistently is play this APBA sports replay game I write about. I know that’s weird when considering life’s travails, but so be it.

I began playing the football game in 1977 and then began rolling the basketball game a year later. Those who remember the old solitaire basketball game understand it could take 20 years to complete a replay season with its terminally slow, plodding pace.

Since I started rolling games, I have gone through a lot of changes in life. I’ve counted 22 moves I’ve made since I began playing. I lived in three states, had every girlfriend and wife relationship begin, ensue and end while playing the game. I rolled games while in college —during undergraduate work, my masters program and the failed attempt at earning a Ph.D. — and at my subsequent news jobs that followed.

And  it may seem sad to those who married at an early age, raised children and stayed at the same job for decades and think that’s what consistency really is about. But this game has helped. It eases the struggle of life; it provides the escape we all look for in some way. 

The game, as I’ve said before, is the only real consistency I’ve had. I’m at 35 years playing and counting, halfway to the 70-year mark. If I make it to 87, I’m sure I’ll still be playing the game and I may even finish a basketball season by then. 

The Kelly Hearn/Kenny Heard Callings

I’ve been besieged lately by calls from several online colleges. At first, when I saw the names and numbers on the caller ID of my phone, I ignored those calls.

But rather than take the hint, the callers intensified their attempts to reach me and often called early in the morning or late in the evening — both the times I generally reserve for playing the APBA game.

So, I began answering the phone.

And I found that the callers all sought “Kelly Hearn,” who apparently requested more information for the online services. I told them there was no one here by that name and the callers promised to take me off the calling list.

Hours later, each time, the phone would ring again and it would be the same online college calling for Kelly Hearn again.

I’ve answered calls from the University of Phoenix, Kaplan University, Capella University and Westwood College. There may have been others; “Caller Blocked” and “No Data” may also be names of Internet course providers, according to the caller ID function on the phone.

I don’t know if this is a joke or not. The name “Kelly Hearn,” is rather close to my childhood name: "Kenny Heard.” Change two letters in my name and I’m a course-seeking person. Perhaps someone submitted my name as a prank so I’d get swamped by calls. If that’s the case, it’s kind of funny. Once in high school, I sent off for a body building catalogue in the name of a fellow student. I used his name and his home address and requested the entire gamut of information the catalogue service offered. The joke was that the fellow student was in better shape than Charles Atlas or Jack Lalanne, or whoever the pitch man for that company was.

So, I appreciated the attempt at humor if my calls were done as a prank. Although, those early morning calls that disrupted whatever APBA baseball game I was playing became annoying. As did the professed promises from the representatives never to call again, only to have them call a few hours later. I was tempted at times to tell them that Kelly Hearn was here, but she decided to forego college and instead chose to make money as a prostitute or a drug dealer or a sports bookie.

But then I thought maybe Kelly Hearn is a real person and she’s sitting somewhere contemplating her future and wondering why all those colleges from which she requested information had never called her. Maybe she’s worried that the clock’s ticking and she wants to enroll somewhere by the first of the year, or for the spring semester and she has heard nary a word. Her phone, perhaps a transposed digit from my phone number, lies quietly while I field calls for her on a daily basis.

So, either someone’s yukking it up over the clever prank he pulled on me, or Kelly Hearn is sitting somewhere forlorn that her future looks bleak.

Either way, the 1981 APBA baseball season games I’m replaying are briefly delayed while I take yet another call for Kelly Hearn. And then they are delayed again while I contemplate the machinations for why the calls are coming to me in the first place.