Translating Obamaspeak (so you don't have to)

After more than a year of constant study and analysis, yours truly has been able to decipher some of the jibber-jabber that comes out of the president's mouth. Here are some of his most commonly used phrases, along with the translation into normal English.

Obama: "Let me be clear..."
Translation: "I'm going to obfuscate, dance around the issue and muddy the waters to the point you've forgotten what I was talking about."

Obama: "I think it's obvious..."
Translation: "Look, just shut up and nod."

Obama: "This is about bringing hope and change to the American people."
Translation: "This was about getting me elected, now it's about getting me re-elected."

Obama: "We need to get this done quickly because that's what the American people expect."
Translation: "If we don't get this crap done quickly, someone may read the legislation and we're screwed."

Obama: "We're going to restore America's place in the global community."
Translation: "I'm going to apologize to every living thing on this planet so my approval ratings in Berlin kick ass."

Obama: "Things are on schedule in Iraq."
Translation: "Bush won the war and I'm ignoring it now."

Obama: "We need a different course in Afghanistan.
Translation: "Arm the Predators."

Obama: "We're a loyal ally of Israel and will protect her."
Translation: "If Iran gets the bomb, sucks to be you guys."

Obama: "We saved the economy."
Translation: "Don't look at the numbers."

Obama: "We're going to be the most transparent administration in history."
Translation: "404--File not found"

Obama: "This isn't about me."
Translation: "It's always about me."

Let's play "Name that President"!

Which president:

• Has insulated himself from the outside world and refuses to listen to opposing points of view on the issue he's made most important?
• Is not really interested in (or is too lazy to learn OR is too stupid to understand) the details of the key issue, just wants it done, now;
• Is perfectly content blaming others for problems;
• Has said that he'll stay the course, even if his wife, daughters and dog are the only ones supporting him?

If you said George W. Bush on Iraq, you are....

DEAD WRONG.

That's Barack Obama on health care. No knowledge of the specifics, no comprehension of the cost and a massive ego driving him ever forward. Not that you'd know that if you listened to the MSM...

Madonna's regret

Apparently, the queen B (with an itch behind it) is back on tour, contributing to the world's lousy opinion of Americans (especially ones who believe in Kabbalah and speak with an English accent, even though they're from DETROIT). The stage for one of her shows collapsed the other day, killing two workers.

Last night, at another show, she broke down, saying that she hates to be associated with anyone's suffering. Way to keep the spotlight on your self, you subhuman dirtbag.

But, her comments pose a question--will she apologize to the entire listening public around the world for everything she's done since Vogue--and her entire acting career? She's put us through a lot of suffering, after all.

Strike the pose..

Transportation FAIL

Yes, that guy is taking a bike through a drive-thru. At a pharmacy. Could too many trips through the drive-thru using the products of the pharmacy be the reason he's on a bike, wasting my time looking at his new product?

Dumbass.

University of Oregon professors are quite stupid

From the Fox News "Political Grapevine":

And a University of Oregon grad student is asking where are all the conservative professors? Dan Lawton writes in the Christian Science Monitor: "Nearly all my professors are Democrats. Isn't that a problem?"

He said despite millions of dollars invested by the university into a diversity program, there are just two registered Republicans out of 111 staffers across five departments. He says some faculty members have railed against his concerns. One told him: "If you like conservatism you can certainly attend the University of Texas and you can walk past the statue of Jefferson Davis everyday."

Dear University of Oregon Professor:

You, individual, are stupid. If you had been to that school in Austin anytime lately, you'd see the signs for the University of Texas Maoist Society, long-haired hippies reeking of dope staggering along "The Drag" and Obama stickers everywhere. If that's your idea of "conservatism," what's your idea of progressive?

Viva la revolucion!

Why Obamacare is in more trouble than he thinks

With overwhelming majorities in both houses of Congress, it would appear that Obamacare should be on a fast track to destroying our health care system. But it's not; in fact, it may go down the humiliating road of Hillarycare (yay!). And why is this a possibility? Mostly because there's a mid-term election in 2010 and a lot of folks who vote for this will find themselves firmly placed in the "toast" category. Here's a few reasons why:

• It's already unpopular. Rasmussen Reports, which is about as accurate and comprehensive a pollster as there is, has said for more than a week that a majority of Americans oppose Obamacare (House Version) by 49 pecent to 46 percent margin. A Zogby poll today already puts a majority, not a plurality, of Americans, against it. And this is before the real details of the 1,018-page plan get out.
• It costs too much for too little. The Democrats are claiming that their plan will cost somewhere around $600 million (in new taxes) and 97 percent of the American people will be covered. Yeah, right. The Congressional Budget Office, in its preliminary analysis of the plan, said it'll cost more than $1 trillion and still leave 17 million people without coverage. So, in essence, Obamacare (House Version) costs about $66,000 a person for some etherial version of health care that doesn't even cover everyone. It's crap.
• It relies on new taxes, wishful thinking and unrealistic expectations. This $600 million (or so) in new taxes are supposed to come from "the rich"--in other words, individuals making $300,000 or more or couples making $350,000 or more. Now, think about this: $300,000 sounds like a lot of money, but what if you live in a place like New York, Washington or L.A.? Suddenly, it ain't so much. With the additional taxation and state taxes, the tax burden for the "rich" is now over 50 percent, which is not a good thing for the economy. In fact, that will be the highest tax level since Jimmy Carter (who Obama is acting a lot alike). Another problem: enough of "the rich" will find charities or other tax shelters that will reduce their tax burden, leaving the coffers short. So, then what? On to taxing the middle class! That may (almost certainly) happen anyway, because the government is expecting to get a lot of money back from Medicare and Medicaid to defray costs. Considering they're already pretty much bankrupt, odds of that happening are painfully slim.
• Americans like options. Don't buy into this "public option" crap. The intention of Obamacare is to make the "public option" the only option. The idea of competition still resonates with the majority of Americans. They also tend to believe that it'll provide better, cheaper products. Losing control of their options is unappealing.
• Obama has presented this thing horribly. Obamacare is socialism, plain and simple, and Obama has not done a very good job of hiding that. The comparisons to the heathcare system are terrifying: government hacks deciding whether or not you get arthitis medication or whether or not you even get life-saving care. If you're over 65, say, you're toast. You're out of the way. To paraphrase Obama's own words, it's probably just easier and better (read: cheaper) to just give you medicine to lessen the pain than do more tests that may discover a cure. To quote Michael Barone, "Hip replacement at 60? Hey, that's expensive, and you're too old." Chilling.

The left has deluded themselves into thinking that government controlled health care couldn't be any worse than what we've got. Let me tell you: yes, it can. Operating from past experience working in the federal government, I can attest to the truth that there is no drive, no motivation among the employees. They cash their checks and, for the most, part, don't give a damn about the people they're supposed to be helping. In addition, you're adding layers of bureaucracy and paperwork to an already convoluted system. It's a recipie for disaster.

I present a challenge to Democrats (especially Blue Dog Democrats): go ahead. Vote for Obamacare. See what happens to you next year. The economy's already a mess, and your beloved leadership is is demanding more in taxes. This plan will require a lot more than your leadership is saying, increasing our debt burden even further. And, to boot, the end product is going to seriously suck.

Obama thinks he's got all the answers, that Obamacare will pass and it will be wonderful. He's wrong. Passage will be a disaster to the health care industry and the economy as a whole. Voting for it, or even considering it, will be a disaster for many Democrats. Ask Bill Clinton about it, and what happened in 1994. And end result like that will end Obamacare and his socialistic agenda, because the Republicans will be in charge.

Democrats more interested in Bush-bashing than al-Qaida killing

There is a stereotype that Democrats abhor, that they're soft on defense and are more interested in talking things out -- almost certainly to the advantage the opposition -- than protecting America's national security.

The problem for them is, that for the past 30 years, it's been absolutely true. The group of disgusting wimps currently in Washington proved it yet again over the past few days, screaming about some "secret" Bush-era program that they weren't told about.

We know that CIA Director (and career bureaucrat) Leon Panetta shut down the program and that you've got idiots like Diane Feinstein and nitwit Nancy Pelosi screaming that Dick Cheney has done something criminal. Ok, so what is this program? Is it some kind of domestic surveillance program? Is it the arrest of American citizens without probable cause or a warrant?

None of the above. It was a program intended to kill and kidnap members of al-Qaida in foreign countries.

Yep, that's it. Kill the people who wanted to kill us. Big whoopee. I don't have a problem with this, and I doubt a lot of other Americans do, either.

Of course, you haven't heard a whole lot of about the real intention of the program, because it's not as sexy (to the media) as the evil Cheneymonster hatching another plot to harm the American people. After all, the intention isn't what's important--it's that it was hidden from Congress, right? EVIL BUSH! EVIL CHENEY! DAMN THEM!

Except it's a lie.

Former CIA Director Michael Hayden has violently refuted the Democrat allegations, saying they damned sure well were told about the program. And, if that wasn't good enough for the lefties, how about these statements directly from the president himself:

“All told, more than 3,000 suspected terrorists have been arrested in many countries. Many others have met a different fate. Let’s put it this way — they are no longer a problem to the United States and our friends and allies.” (2003 State of the Union Address; comment met with applause from both sides of the aisle)

“In response to attacks on our home soil, we have captured or killed terrorists across the Earth.” (2005 radio address)

So this is an outrage? This program is worth eliminating? Why? What the hell is wrong with offing a bunch of lousy frigging terrorists whose interest is killing Americans, Brits, other Europeans, Indians, Saudis and whoever else looks at them funny?

The only people in America who would have a problem with this are on the left side of the aisle. Their biggest, dumbest mouths are currently in D.C. I certainly hope someone's taking score on all this, because they have no interest in defending the nation from terror; they only have an interest in villifying two guys who made them look stupid for six years.

The 2010 midterms can't get here fast enough to dispatch some of these morons. They're repulsive.

10 baseball player's I'D pay good money to see in the prime

Ok, yesterday Tom Verducci of SI.com wrote a column in which he picked 10 guys he'd pay to see play. Considering that he's probably never had to pay to see a damned game in his life, you would think that would count for something.

Then he produced a list that, in my opinion, simply sucked. Ted Williams 10th? Bo Jackson? Jackie Robinson first? I'm sorry, but at the last one, I was appalled. The column stopped taking on a baseball tone and became a political statement. His rationale for Jackie being #1 were weak at best. Robinson's truly great and did everything very, very well--but he was never dominant in any area. Would you rather go see Clyde Drexler play, or Michael Jordan? I put Jackie more in the Clyde category, which still makes him tremendous--just not someone I'd put in a top 10 list.

There are some people missing from this list because, well, I did pay to see them in their prime. Hence, no Cal Ripken Jr. or Jeff Bagwell, even though their 1991 and 1994 seasons, respectively, were as good as it gets. There were also a lot of close calls, like Ty Cobb, Bob Feller, Frank Robinson, Hank Aaron, Ken Griffey Jr. and George Brett, but 10's 10 (yeah, like I'm gonna stick to that). But without further adieu, my 10 guys I'd pay to see in their prime (note: since my MLB covering days are pretty much dead, I wouldn't have a choice, anyway):

10. Joe DiMaggio, New York Yankees:

He's...going...STREAKING!

Joe D. may have been a weird bird off the field, but give him credit for two things: he nailed Marilyn Monroe and nobody defined offensive consistency better than he did. Nobody's gotten close to a 56-game hitting streak since 1941 and, probably, nobody ever will. The dude could rake. And, if the legends are right, nobody played a better center field or ran the bases better. The complete package who just won, baby. I would have like to have seen him take his hacks in the summer of 41.

9. Mickey Mantle, New York Yankees:

He hit one 565 feet? One ticket, please.

I am not a Yankee fan. In fact, I loathe them. I've heard enough about Mantle as a person to dislike him immensely. But Mantle, in his time, was the dominant force in baseball. Before he got hurt, he had great speed. He had a cannon for an arm. And he was, simply, the best switch-hitter ever. But he not only hit for average, he hit for power--a sick amount of it. Even though he struck out a lot, when he made contact, it was incredible. He almost hit a ball out of Yankee Stadium and hit one 565 feet in Washington. That's not too tough to do--if you're hitting a golf ball. No roider did it hitting a baseball (suck it, Barry), so the Mick's something special.

8 (tie). Nolan Ryan and Randy Johnson

Heat, 90-2000s version, meet heat, 70-80s version.

I pondered for a long time about guy I wanted to leave off this list, then decided I couldn't leave either off. The dominant right- and left-handed power pitchers of all time, Nolan and the Big Unit amazed well into the 40s. Nolan's later years with the California Angels and his stint with the Houston Astros were remarkable, as he crushed hitters with his 100 mph-plus fastball and big bending curve. Sadly, only two of those teams (1980 and 86) were worth a hoot, so his record suffered. Johnson's fastball was nearly as fast and his slider as devastating, so he owned both leagues for more than a decade.

Both guys were intimidating not only because they threw hard, but because they weren't afraid to throw AT you, either. The plate was theirs, and if you tried to get too close (or talk trash), they'd drill you. Reggie Jackson said that Nolan was the only pitcher who ever scared him, not because he could strike you out, but "because he can kill you." Nobody ever said that about Randy Johnson--probably because they were too scared to.

Man, it would have been fun to watch those guys light up the radar gun in their prime.

7. Greg Maddux, Chicago Cubs/Atlanta Braves

Dear hitter: A nerd is fixing to own you.

The only guy to come close to Randy Johnson in the 1990s and the first part of the 21st century fairly (get the hell out of here, Clemens, you scumbag) when it came to pitching excellence was a guy topped out at about 90 mph on the gun. Greg Maddux didn't intimidate anyone, on or off the mound (trust me, I've see him in the locker room, and "nerd" is an accurate descriptor); he just made hitters look really, really stupid. Maddux had absolute command of all of his pitches, absolute command of the strike zone and studied hitters weaknesses like he was trying to pass a nuclear physics exam. The combination of the three made him one of the greatest pitchers not of his time, but any time. I saw him pitch once, late in his career (against scumbag Clemens, actually), but it didn't kill the desire to see him pitch in his prime. I used to watch him on TV and just laugh as he carved up the opposition. It would have been a thrill to see that Mad Dog in person.

6. Albert Pujols, St. Louis Cardinals

Must. Crush. Ball.

I have seen Albert Pujols in person. I've seen him in the playoffs against the Astros. Against my boy Brad Lidge.

Lidge struck him out the time I saw him, though. I didn't see the homer that essentially Lidge's career in Houston in person. In fact, oddly, he's never CRUSHED BALL when I've been in attendance.

So I want a mulligan.

I've watched Pujols destroy a pitch and the stroll up the line with a look of disdain so many times on TV that I want to experience it in person (though not really against the 'Stros anymore). He is the greatest hitter of our time--maybe the greatest right-handed hitter of any time--and such talents (when clean) should be embraced. We may never see the likes of him again, so I'd like to see some more. Just, if you must homer against the 'Stros, Albert, do it when you're down like 10-1, ok?

5. Sandy Koufax, Los Angeles Dodgers

The heat or the hammer? Not that it matters, you can't hit it.

It's a crying shame that Koufax struggled with his control in his early career, then suffered from an arthritic condition that ended his career long before it should have. Because, is his prime, there's an argument that could be made that Sandy Koufax was the greatest pitcher ever. He was left-handed, had good command, a blazing fastball, sweeping curve and even a good changeup. He didn't do well against the National League--he owned it. And he crushed the Yankees and Twins in the World Series, to boot. His last start was Game 2 of the 1966 World Series against the Orioles, were he pitched magnificently, but was undone by bad outfield play in a 3-0 loss. The Oriole who outdueled him? A 20-year-old rookie named Jim Palmer. Palmer, of course, was the dominant pitcher of the 1970s.

4. Walter Johnson, pitcher, Washington Senators

You can't hit what you can't see.

My wife's great-uncle actually pitched for a short period of time with the Washington Senators in the 1920s, which means he got the best seat in the house to watch the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball. Walter Johnson pitched for some horrible, horrible Sens teams, but still goes down in history as one of the hardest throwers and biggest winners the game has ever known. He threw sidearm, which some people say cuts down the reality that he could throw hard, but I don't buy that. Baseball has been around 160 years and there's only been one Babe Ruth, so to think that Walter Johnson couldn't be another extraordinary talent is silliness.

Bob Feller who claims he threw much harder than Nolan Ryan (he says 104 mph), is very proud of his fastball, but says he's not the hardest thrower of all time. That man, he says, is Walter Johnson. I'd sure like to see for myself.

3. Willie Mays, center fielder, New York/San Fransisco Giants

Say Hey.

Willie Mays might have been the ultimate five-tool player in the history of baseball. He hit for average and for power; he could steal bases, he patrolled center field like no other and had a cannon for an arm. To see a player do one thing better than everyone else is a treat--to see someone do everything better at the same time is astounding. But that was Willie Mays.

2. Ted Williams, Boston Red Sox

Simply the best hitter. Ever.

It's been nearly 70 years since Ted Williams hit .406 and nobody's done it. But Williams was much bigger than .406--he redefined how opposing teams dealt with hitters. They used the first infield shift against him, decided pitching around him wasn't "bush league", since it saved their butts from defeat, and some say that the slider was invented as a way to get him out (he figured out how to crush that pitch, too). There are tons of Ted Williams stories I've read that describe his greatness, but the one that my dad told me is the best. His father took him to Griffith Stadium to see a ballgame, then my grandfather stood up and applauded (along with a number of other Senators fans) when the third hitter for the other team came up.

My father asked his dad what he was doing. "That, son, is the greatest hitter of all time."

That hitter, of course was one T.S. Williams. Who promptly homered. What I wouldn't give to have seen it.

1. Babe Ruth, New York Yankees

As if it could be anyone else.

He was the ultimate showman. He was, and remains, the ultimate power hitter. He is baseball. To see him swing that massive bat would have been something to savor. Even if he didn't homer--even he struck out--the experience must have been electric. But to even consider the prospect of seeing Babe Ruth, the man who out-homered an entire league, hitting is something that can give you chills.

I'm really sick of this Michael Jackson stuff

Michael Jackson died 12 days ago. I’ve been tired of hearing about him for about 11 of those 12 days. By now, as his memorial service is going on, I’m so fed up with hearing about the passing of the gloved one that I could puke.
Let’s take a look at what has happened since Jackson died: U.S. troops pulled out of all Iraqi cities; the Marines launched a strong offensive against the Taliban in Iraq. Sarah Palin quit as governor of Alaska. The president of Honduras was overthrown and a serial killer terrorized a city in South Carolina. Steve McNair was murdered by his girlfriend, who then shot herself, in an affair that is becoming increasingly sordid.
All of these were overshadowed by the death of a (to put it mildly) screwed up entertainer.
For the sake of accuracy, let’s review the subject of this inane reverence. Michael Jackson was a singer—I don’t even know if he was a musician, because I don’t know if he played an instrument. He was good at what he did, which was sing and dance. He was very, very popular, because he sang and danced.
He was also a black man who bleached his skin because he didn’t want to be black, a man whose nose had collapsed due to multiple plastic surgeries and a man worth hundreds of millions of dollars who was hundreds of millions of dollars in debt. He was, at worst, a criminal pedophile; at best, he was a porn-inhaling pervert (see the stuff from his trial, which his defense team did not refute, about his porn collection).
Sadly, he was also addicted to prescription drugs for 25 years—an addiction that killed him.
The life of Michael Jackson should serve as a cautionary tale. Instead, the global masses are ready to beatify him. All because he could sing and dance.
Frankly, I am revolted by many things involving the spectacle following Jackson’s death. I’m revolted by his father pimping his businesses any time he speaks about his youngest kid; I’m sickened by how his folks have swooped in and tried to take control of his estate, which is not in accordance with his will. I’m disgusted by how Debbie Rowe, who bore Jackson two kids then walked away from them, suddenly wants them back (along, no doubt, with a nice fat check). The idea that anyone (family or promoters) wanted to charge people to attend his memorial service is simply vomit-inducing.
And then there’s the fans. The screaming, crying, we love you we will never forget you you were our personal God fans. Give me a damned break. The cult created by these folks in a matter of less than two weeks to this very flawed, very human individual is a testament to the stupidity and naïveté of the global public. Michael Jackson was a tremendous talent, and those talents will be missed—but to the extent of people camping out at Neverland or flying in from around the world to try to go to a memorial service? That 1.6 million people would try to attend it? That people were committing suicide in their angst over the loss of Michael Jackson?
Get a life!
This level of adulation shows that independent thought is still at a premium on this planet. People who saw Thriller on MTV and were hooked are mourning like we’ve lost a great prophet or someone changed their lives on a personal level (don’t give me this crap that “Billie Jean” or “Beat It” did just that). The guy slept in the bed as pre-teen boys, spent money irresponsibly and had a drug problem. What is to be revered here? Nothing. But somehow, there’s a disconnect between Michael Jackson the human being and Michael Jackson the musician. That’s no slam on Michael Jackson; that’s a huge slam on society.
How dumb are we as a society? Are we completely incapable of digesting the full picture on anyone, that there’s such a need for idol worship that doing things that are fundamentally wrong can be ignored or overlooked because we can’t handle the truth? Do we have to go insane with grief over actors, athletes and musicians when they die, then turn around and ignore the passing of truly great people just because they weren’t famous?
The answer to the question of our stupidity is plain: see Hilton, Paris and Kardashian, Kim. They should be sources of ridicule, but instead, we’ve idolized them. How weak.
Steve McNair was blown away by a pissed-off girlfriend, possibly because he decided he didn’t want to leave his wife. McNair’s memory will forever be tarnished for the way he died, which was in a situation he shouldn’t have placed himself in. Michael Jackson OD’ed and his loss is being mourned with greater intensity than that of Pope John Paul II’s (ironically, many people who don’t believe in a higher power are among those wailing Jackson’s loss in a way befitting a deity).
Pathetic. Sad. Disgusting.
Godspeed, Mike. Congratulations on leaving the circus behind.

The things you do for a baseball bat

Dear non-existent reader:

My apologies for being so slow (or pathetic, whichever you prefer) in updating this blog you don't read. But the last few weeks have been busy, so I'm trying to write this thing up before heading to the airport--again--to catch a plane. This trip is on short notice, as opposed to the one the missus and I took a few weeks ago. That trip was to Cooperstown, New York. And we because of a baseball bat.

Let me explain. This is not a regular bat; it's a bat that was made by the Cooperstown Bat Company, in Cooperstown (duh), and has a imprint of Doubleday Field, the legendary home of the first baseball game. I've had the bat for about two years now, after I bought it. When I did, it was already more than a regular bat--it had a few autographs on it. To be precise, it had the signatures of Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Yogi Berra, Stan Musial, Don Drysdale, Duke Snider, Eddie Mathews, Tom Seaver and Willie McCovey on it. (Note: I also got Craig Biggio, the former Astro, to sign the bat. I think it's a safe bet he'll be ranked with these other guys come 2013.)

They're all Hall of Famers, in case you didn't know. The National Baseball Hall of Fame, of course, is in Cooperstown, N.Y.

In April, we found out that there was going to be a baseball alumni game at Doubleday Field in mid-to-late June. Scraping up nickels and dimes that have been a little bit more available to be scraped this year as opposed to the past, the Missus and I decided to fly up and go to the game.

It turned out to be one of the best decisions of our lives.

For one thing, Cooperstown is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. It looks like God touched the land and put the town there--at least, five or six months out of the year. They also had signs indicating snowmobile crossings, which made me quite happy to live where I do. But when you've been dealing with a week of 100-degree-plus days, there's something to be said for 72 degrees and occasional afternoon showers in June.

A view of the lake, one block from the Hall of Fame

The exterior of the Hall itself

We arrived on Saturday, the 20th, with the game on the 21st. We weren't sure how many people were going to show up for this thing and expected maybe a couple thousand. Our bad; there were about 7,000 people who showed up. There were five Hall of Famers playing in the game: Brooks Robinson, Bob Feller (at age 90!), Ferguson Jenkins, Paul Molitor an Phil Niekro. So we took the bat. Yes, from Houston to upstate New York.

I've always hated trying to get autographs, no matter how much I enjoy having them, because I feel like two-bit scum trying to fight through a line, butt past a kid and stand there like I'm entitled. I hate the jerkoffs that are there plainly to get something to sell even more, and there were hordes of them. But I still got close with the bat for Brooks Robinson's signature. (Note: For me, this is a big deal. I've met Brooksie before, have his autograph and all that--but this is the best third baseman of ALL F-ING TIME. That's the Orioles fan in me talking.) But it looked like I was gonna be out of luck, as he was heading in the other direction.

Then two things happened: one, a guy from Austin (!) let me get up to the fence separating fans from legends and the Missus grabbed the bat.

"Nobody says no to a lady," she said, elbowing an eight-year-old in the head to get him out of the way.

"Mr. Robinson, sir, will you please sign this?" My wife asks with her suthun belle charm.

"Sure, honey," Brooskie replies.

The bat wobbles a bit, and Brooks says, "Darlin, you're gonna have to hold it real still or neither of us are gonna be happy with this."

The Missus says, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I'll do my best."

Brooksie smiles and says, "It's ok, Darlin, it's my fault."

BROOKS ROBINSON CALLED MY WIFE DARLIN. TWICE. He has, of course, made a fan for life right then and there, and I'm not talking about me. And the bat is signed by one more HOFer. The wife asks me if I got a picture of the magical moment. Alas, I had not, which means I probably lost a fan. Typical.

To my frustration, Paul Molitor and Phil Niekro walk away from the autograph line right before signing the bat. Molitor actually looks at it, ponders, then turns and goes away. That's annoying, but it's life.

The start of the game is the best part. Molitor, leading off for his team, takes his hacks against Feller.

"These guys have faced off before," I say to my wife. Several guys look around at me like I'm on crack.

"Where?" some guy says incredulously.

"On my computer game," I respond, getting a chuckle out of the guy. It truly is an amazing moment, and you wonder how one of baseball's best over power pitchers would have done against such a good contact hitter.

Feller vs. Molitor. Check out the beautiful background.

Outside of this one at-bat, the game was a relative disappointment. I spent an hour in an autograph line that didn't move until I gave up out of frustration and so I didn't kill some jerk from New York City in front of his kid on Father's Day. But all in all, who cared? It was a great day with great weather and a celebration of baseball.

We were walking down the street after the game when we saw that Fergie Jenkins was doing an autograph signing at one of the stores. It was the Cooperstown Bat Company--the place where the bat came from to begin with! The cost for an autograph? A $20 donation to the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. Done, or so I thought.

I asked the guy outside (the manager of the store), if the bat was fair play. He said sure, $20 for anything. I stayed in line for five minutes, got up to the guy taking the "donations," and he said, "Oh, no. Fergie won't sign anything signed by anyone else for $20. That's $75."

Before I could completely lose my mind and embarass myself by pummeling this guy to death with an autographed bat in front of a Hall of Famer, my wife miraculously appears beside me.

"If that's $75, you'd better go tell the guy outside, because he said it was $20," she said. "And I doubt my husband would be the only pissed off person in this line. And I can tell he's getting to be very pissed off."

The guy pauses. "He said $20? Then it's $20." Done, again.

11 Hall of Famers on the bat.

The next day, we hit the Hall itself. What an experience! If you love baseball, this is a place you gotta see. The stuff in there will simply take your breath away.

Babe Ruth's real locker. Babe Ruth's real jersey. Really.

There was so much awesome stuff at the HOF that I'll probably just post another blog with pictures. It's too much to talk about here. By the time we got home Tuesday, though, I was already excited about something else: it was four days until we met Cal Ripken.

Cal's been, for lack of a better term, one of my heroes since I was about eight years old. Unlike most sports-related heroes, Cal hasn't shown himself to be a complete and utter scumbag over the past quarter-century; indeed, he's universally regarded as one of the classiest celebrities of any kind anywhere. With the Tristar memorabilia show coming to town, I figured it would be, maybe, the only time I'd have a chance to get him to sign the well-traveled bat. So I shelled out a lot of money (how much I won't say, except it's as much as two high-end tires for the Honda) to pay for the right to get that autograph.

As part of the deal was something that I didn't put much into at the time--you got to have a picture with Cal "with your own camera." Since, as you know from above, I don't like paying for autographs, I had no idea what that meant. I did some reading and figured out that picture taking at these memorabilia shows is a hell of a racket. A lot of other hall of famers, including guys I like, charge between $100 and $150 for the "privilege" of having your picture taken with them. Then you get to buy the print, blah blah blah. What a gyp. Cal was doing that for free, which probably meant a "savings" of $120 or so (if you would have paid for it, which I wasn't gonna do).

So, me and the missus got in line and waited for Cal to sign the bat. When he did, the Missus, who is much more with it than I, got a picture of it.

Cal with the bat. If you look close, you can see the signatures of Willie McCovey, Johnny Bench and Craig Biggio.

After we got the bat signed, we got in another line to get our picture taken with Cal. There was some drama with that (I'll let Momma Pug handle that story), I got to meet The Man.


I thought the picture thing was pretty cool. But can you imagine what it would mean to a little kid? What a great thing (even if you are paying a lot for the privilege, even though all of it went to the Cal Ripken Sr. Foundation).

And guess who was signing autographs next to Cal? Paul Molitor. As we walked past, I stopped and said, "See this bat? This time I've decided you're not signing it."

He looked at me like I was from Neptune and asked, "Should I know that bat?"

"Yeah," I replied. "You walked away from it at Doubleday Field last Sunday."

"Oops," Molitor said.

Yeah, oops. Another 15 seconds and I'd have had 14 Hall of Famers on that doggone bat. But I'm pretty happy with the ones that I've got. Another 20 signatures or so and I'll sell it and pay for my kids' college.