A pitcher whose repertoire included smoke bombs, sneezing powder and live snakes.

A catcher who bought cattle during road trips and hauled livestock in his Cadillac.

An outfielder known to run the bases backward and spout maxims like, "This year I’m going to play with harder nonchalance."

What strange birds these Orioles can be.

Moe Drabowsky, Clint Courtney and Jackie Brandt were just three of the characters who have played for Baltimore through the years ...

Moe Drabowsky / Baltimore Sun file photo by Gene Sweeney Jr.

When the Orioles bought Moe Drabowsky for $25,000 in 1965, they got more than a bullpen savant. They got a master of comic relief.

Who put the garter snake in shortstop Luis Aparicio’s pocket? Gotta be Drabowsky. Who gave that hot foot to a howling Boog Powell? Just say Moe. The Prince of Pranks, they dubbed him.

In 1966, Drabowsky went 6-0 and emerged from the bullpen to win a World Series game. But it was his practical jokes, as much as his prowess, that drove the Orioles down the stretch.

"We had a pretty loose team, because Moe took the pressure off in the clubhouse," pitcher Eddie Fisher said.

He placed live mice in teammates’ shoes and lit firecrackers when the spirit moved.

"Rolling a cherry bomb under the door, while you’re in the bathroom, is real bad," said Powell, whose ears rang for days afterward.

Most stoppers are expected to put out fires. Drabowsky was a good bet to start them. He torched newspapers while players were reading them. A whiz at giving a hot foot, he delighted in igniting a match -- or a book of them -- that he had attached to someone’s shoe.

"It became his obsession," said Powell, the first baseman. "If there were 20 guys sitting on the bench, Moe would crawl on his belly under 19 of them to give the last guy a hot foot."

Everyone was fair game. Coaches. Reporters. baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn. Once, in Cleveland, Drabowsky lit the instep of an Indians fan.

He burned The Baltimore Sun’s Jim Elliott so often, the scribe took to staring at his shoes during interviews. Bemused, the pitcher struck a match to the notebook in Elliott’s hand.

Other Drabowsky shenanigans: He put goldfish in the visitors’ water coolers and sprayed their quarters with sneezing powder. In Kansas City, he telephoned the A’s bullpen, pretending to be the manager ordering a reliever to warm up.

Snakes were a regular prop. During a sports luncheon in Baltimore, Drabowsky snuck a small python into the bread basket at the head table. When Brooks Robinson reached for a roll, he nearly fell off the dais.

Drabowsky retired after 17 years, four of them in Baltimore. He died of cancer in 2006 at age 70.

Clint Courtney (left) and Bobby Thomson in 1960. (Baltimore Sun file photo)

Clint Courtney, a catcher who served two hitches with the Orioles (1954 and 1960-61) was a hoot - a tobacco-chewing, Louisiana farm boy who was strong as an ox and who smelled like one, too.

On Western swings, Courtney prowled the stockyards in Chicago and Kansas City, looking to beef up the herd on his 200-acre spread.

"Clint would stomp around in that cow manure, wearing his only suit, then come straight to the park," shortstop Ron Hansen said. "The stink didn’t bother him."

On the road, Courtney liked to lie in bed and spit at the ceiling, to the chagrin of his peers.

"I roomed with him -- once," first baseman Jim Gentile said. A dapper dresser himself, "Diamond Jim" watched in horror in a New York hotel room as Courtney unpacked a suitcase filled with dirty clothes.

"We’ll only be gone six days," the catcher said.

Courtney always drove Cadillacs, into which he squeezed everything from heifers to hound dogs.

"I rode with Clint once," pitcher Dick Hall said. "It was like being in a barn."

Courtney was bowlegged, balding and absurdly myopic. The first big-league catcher to wear glasses on the field, he struggled with pop-ups, circling the ball and squinting through Coke bottle lenses. The media likened the moves to those of a waiter serving pizza on roller skates.

Fiercely combative and quick to rile, the man whom teammates called "Scrap Iron" fought often but never won a brawl, they said.

"Guys would play tricks on him just to watch him get mad," catcher Joe Ginsberg said. "Once, during a game, they put Limburger cheese inside his glove. Every time he slapped [the mitt], the umpire would sniff and ask, `What is that?’

"Clint never did catch on."

If Courtney acted like he’d been conked once too often, well, maybe he had.

"I can still see him trying to catch Hoyt Wilhelm’s knuckleballs, with that oversized glove the Orioles gave him," outfielder Whitey Herzog once said. "Clint once bet me a fifth of booze that Wilhelm wouldn’t throw one past him.

"In the second inning, a pitch comes [fluttering] in, hits Clint on the button of his cap and bounces in front of the plate. Without rubbing his head, he turns to the dugout and hollers, `See? It didn’t get by.’"

For a spell in his 11-year career, Courtney forgot how to throw the ball back to the pitcher. Really.

"He had this mental block where he couldn’t get the ball to the mound," pitcher Jack Fisher said. "So Clint would either throw to third base, or walk halfway to the mound and lob it back."

In 1960, Orioles infielders complained that they couldn’t hold onto the catcher’s pegs. Unbeknownst to Courtney, he’d been trying to cut down base runners by throwing sliders.

Courtney retired a .268 hitter. He was managing Richmond, Atlanta’s Triple-A club, when he died in 1975 at age 48. It happened while he was playing ping-pong.

Jackie Brandt / Baltimore Sun file photo by Richard Stacks

Jackie Brandt was just as loopy, in a laid-back sort of way.

"My friends call me Flakey," the blue-eyed, crew-cut outfielder told his new teammates, following a trade in 1960. What Baltimore got was a player with a knack for doing and saying things that came out of left field.

Having homered, Brandt might slide into every bag -- or decide to run them clockwise.

Once, caught in a rundown between third and home, he did a back flip in an effort to avoid the tag. Brandt was out, but scored a "10" with the crowd.

"Everybody in the stands just roared," Ginsberg said. "Who but Jackie would have thought of that?"

His antics kept Brandt from a breakout career, teammates said. For every basket catch and barehanded pickup, there was a fielding gaffe or base-running blunder.

Asked about his erratic play, Brandt explained that the faster he ran, the more his "eyeballs jumped up and down."

Brandt had an excuse for every occasion.

"One time, he struck out on a 3-2 pitch with the bases loaded to end the game," Hansen said. "[Manager] Paul Richards asked, `What pitch were you guessing? Fastball or curve?’

"Jackie said, `Neither. I was guessing ball.’"

A regular for six seasons in Baltimore, Brandt drove four Orioles managers batty.

"I once asked him how he’d managed to misplay a fly," Hank Bauer, who ran the Orioles in the mid-’60s, once said. "Jackie said, `I lost it in the jet stream.’"

He even had an excuse for making nutty excuses.

"I said that?" Brandt would tell reporters, shaking his head. "My lips must have been sunburned."

Some called him lackadaisical, a .262 lifetime hitter with boundless potential.

"He was as loosey-goosey as they come," outfielder Al Pilarcik said. "Jackie was so carefree, I’m surprised he didn’t fall asleep out there."

"I’m trying to make myself think I’m trying harder," Brandt told The Evening Sun in 1962. "When you bust a gut and make things look easy, it’s hard to do the same things and make them look hard."

Off the field, Brandt was much the same. He once played 36 holes of golf before a doubleheader. Nuts over ice hockey, he talked the Baltimore Clippers into letting him drop the puck for faceoffs during practice.

Brandt played his last game in 1967. Now 75, he is reportedly living in Nebraska, where he is retired from a job with UPS.

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 12:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)
        

Back when this blog was firing on all cylinders (hang with us; we'll get there again) I professed my gigantic man crush on Orioles center fielder Adam Jones, and compared him to the opening pages of a great novel. Since every good novel needs to explain a character's back story, I wanted to make sure Orioles fans spotted this story by Chris Jenkins of the San Diego Union-Tribune about Jones' teenage years. It's kind of cool to think that Sam Horn and Jones are from the same neighborhoods.

As Jenkins points out in the piece, it's sort of remarkable that Jones didn't even really play much baseball until he was in high school, which makes you feel like he has even more untapped potential than what we're seeing right now.

It's also a nice reminder of just how important mentors can be in urban areas that are threatening to be overrun by drugs and crime. It always saddens me when I hear people rip on city schools, especially when it's talk radio knuckleheads who have never stepped foot inside one, blaming teachers unions or overpaid administrators for a litany of problems. It's always more complicated than that. Sometimes, it just takes one person to care about a kid and use sports as a vehicle to focus their lives in the right direction. And for every kid like Adams Jones who becomes a Major League Baseball player and has his story told, there are hundreds who simply make it to graduation or get to college, and it's no less of a success.

Photo: Getty Images

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 3:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)
        

Dear Matt:

So I know you're a little busy, what with your major league debut this Friday. And I'm sure you're a little bit nervous, too. You probably won't have time to read this. No one will think less of you if, by the way, you've got a few butterflies in your stomach. Quite honestly, it would be weird if you didn't have them. You probably spent much of your childhood dreaming of this moment, and now it's finally here.

Soon, you're going to walk out onto the field inside Camden Yards holding your mask and be showered with applause, and then crouch down and call your first pitch. I'm thinking three up, three down, no problem. And if you somehow get a chance to bat in the bottom of the first, I think the whole stadium might twitch with nervous energy. If you get a hit, we may even wake up Babe Ruth's ghost. The whole day will probably feel like a gigantic blur to you, so have someone from the team clip copies of Saturday's Baltimore Sun and send them to your parents. It will be a great way to explain to your kids one day what this crazy thing called newspapers were. (By the way, can we interest you in a subscription?) 

But before it all begins, on behalf of the city of Baltimore, I'm wondering if, as a transplanted Marylander, I can offer a few pieces of advice. Don't think of these as absolutes, just as a potential road map for what's ahead of you. This city was a little overwhelming to me when I arrived eight years ago. But somehow, I've grown to love it. Hopefully you will too. But here's the way to make that happen:

1. One day, when you have a night game and don't have to be at the ballpark too early, wander down to Lexington Market and get a jumbo lump crab cake platter from Faidley's. Sure, there are fancier places to eat in town. And there are a lot of places that brag about having the best crab cakes. But for my money, these are the best, and one of the best ways to capture the real spirit of working-class Baltimore is by strolling through Lexington Market to get them. This is a place where you can literally buy muskrat (although they call it Swamp Rabbit), which is fascinating and disturbing at the same time. But it's true Charm City, hon. Order some oysters and a couple Natty Bohs (still the best cheap beer you can buy), then devour a crab cake with a couple sides. Soak in the atmosphere and tell yourself, "These are my people." And remember, some food just tastes better when you eat it standing up with a plastic fork. No joke.

Photo: Megan Morrow/Norfolk Tides

2. Go to a concert at the Recher Theater in Towson. There are a lot of fun places to listen to live music in this area, but none fit the criteria of "dive bar" better than the Recher. (And that's a compliment. Dive bars rule.) Since you're like 6 feet 5, you won't even need to shove your way to the front to enjoy the show, unless you want to, of course. Sure, a lot of your teammates are going to want to take you to places to meet girls, and that's cool. Power Plant and Federal Hill and Fells Point have a diverse selection of skanks that would love to meet you and try to marry you, but sometimes a man just needs to hear some real rock 'n roll in a tiny, overcrowded venue where people step on your shoes and spill beer on your shirt. I saw Drive-By Truckers here recently and they absolutely rocked. My wife saw Wilco here right before Yankee Hotel Foxtrot came out. Gaslight Anthem just had a show here. I might make it my personal mission to make sure you don't have terrible at-bat music this year, especially since I plan on listening to it for the next 15 to 18 years. (And maybe longer if the O's move you to first after your knees give out.) Might I suggest the Old 97s show on June 27? This isn't that far from my house, so if you want to car pool, let me know. Maybe we can even talk Michael Phelps into coming, since his mom lives in Rodgers Forge. With Phelps in training for the World Championships, and having learned some hard lessons from his "youthful mistakes," maybe he'll even agree to be our designated driver.

3. Pick up all five seasons of The Wire on Netflix. Don't follow Jimmy McNulty's lead. On one hand, it would be pretty awesome if Adam Jones could be the Bunk to your Jimmy (we're already assuming in this scenario that Nick Markakis is Nick Sobakta and Peter Angelos is The Greek) but on second thought, we'd prefer you didn't develop a self-destructive streak brought on by narcissism and alcoholism, no matter how good you remained at your job. Still, The Wire is the most complicated yet beautiful portrait of an American city ever shown on screen, and it will give you a decent idea of what exists beyond the manicured outfield grass of Oriole Park. Just ignore all the talk you're likely to hear that Season 2 isn't as good as Seasons 1, 3 and 4. (Season 5 should never be ranked higher than fifth, and this has nothing to do with the fact that it's about the Sun.) In fact, Season 2 is, in my humble opinion, the most important season of The Wire, because it shows you that David Simon's goal wasn't to make a show about cops and drug dealers, but to create an entire fictional universe and then use it as a stage to tell stories about economics, morality, fate and the broken promises of the American dream. Watch Season 4 and suddenly you won't feel so bad about going 0-for-4 against the Yankees or Red Sox.

4. Buy an Ed Reed jersey, or a Haloti Ngata jersey, or even a Kelly Gregg jersey, and wear it to a Ravens game. Talk radio loves to bark about Ray Lewis this, Ray Lewis that, and it probably wouldn't hurt to throw some praise in the direction of the king. You can even mumble something about how you've always been a big fan of the middle linebacker, and how you thought he was framed. (On second thought, don't say that.) But if you really want to have this city eating out of the palm of your hand, all you have to do is embrace one of those players like they're South Carolina kin, and people will never forget it. Anyone can pretend to be a Ray Lewis fan or a Joe Flacco fan. But go with something a little different, something that suggests you're the kind of player who just shuts his mouth and takes care of business, and all the dads out there whose father's named them after Brooks Robinson will want to complete the circle and name their first-born son Matt. 

5. During Hon Fest, come to Hampden, drink too much, eat too much funnel cake, threaten to start a fight, yak in front of Holy Frijoles, and then make out with a chick with a beehive hairdo. Seriously. To the fan base, you represent absolute perfection and endless possibility right now. It would be good for everyone to realize you're human and allowed to make the occasional foolish mistake. Because then it won't be a let-down if you go into a slump. We like our stars to have a few flaws, or at least be human. (See: Lewis, Ray) This would seem like harmless fun. I promise I won't send the pictures to Deadspin.

6. Consider living here in the offseason once you're an established star. I know you're a South Carolina kid right down to the bone, and you're probably going to want to skip town the day after the Orioles World Series parade. (Not to put any pressure on you, but yeah, you have some of us dreaming of parades.) But once you have a family of your own, and you're thinking about putting down roots, give Baltimore a chance. For whatever reason, we just like it when our sports stars consider this city, and all its wonderful flaws, a place that feels like home. We're not saying that you have to teach your kids to play lacrosse or cheer for the Terps in basketball, but consider investing in us the way we're about to invest in you. It probably seems absurd, but people in this town kind of like the idea of our sports heroes fighting Beltway traffic, battling the humidity and complaining about local government, just like the rest of us.

7. Walk with kings, but don't lose the common touch. Seems silly to paraphrase Rudyard Kipling, a British author, for advice when we've got Edgar Allen Poe's grave right in the heart of downtown. But Poe's connection to Baltimore is a little more tenuous than we'd like to admit (he died here, but he lived many different places) and Kipling's "If" fits our modus operandi better. Plus, we'd prefer if your career was a bit less dark (OK, a lot less dark) than much of Poe's writing. It seems like you've got all the tools to be one of the greats, Matt Wieters. But you have a heavy burden to bear, kid. You're the biggest building block in a rebuilding project that has now taken 11 years to truly get going. Along with Markakis and Jones (and maybe even Nolan Reimold!) you're allowing us to believe in baseball again. This used to be a baseball town once, and it could be again. We've been beaten down for so long, we just want to go to the park in late September (or, Lord willing, October) and feel excited. Feel like we're a part of something. Also, it wouldn't suck to see you compete for a batting title, now that we think about it.

Lastly, no pressure, but ... please, please, please ... be for real.  

Sincerely,

Kevin Van Valkenburg

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 3:01 PM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (13)
        

So while we all wait to see if the dithering county council in Anne Arundel County will green light a slots casino for a Hanover shopping mall parking lot, Delaware has upped the ante.

Lawmakers in the nation's smallest state have approved legislation allowing bookies to set up shop as a means to help close a $780 million budget shortfall. The law is being reviewed by Delaware's Supreme Court. If it passes muster, the state's governor wants everything in place for the start of the pro football season.

One of the arguments by those in favor of slot machines in Maryland was that the surrounding states of Delaware and West Virginia were siphoning off sin dollars. Plus, the state wanted to help its racetracks and the racing industry, needed a new pot of money to pay for stuff and was loath to raise taxes.

So belatedly Maryland approved slots and then watched as interest, like the economy, waned. The state today is really no closer to new revenue than Republicans are to winning a majority in Congress.

And now Delaware is on the verge of unrolling the welcome mat for sports betting at Delaware Park, Dover Downs and Harrington Raceway. I don't have to tell you how close those three racetracks are. 

Naturally, the NFL and NCAA hope to block sports gambling to protect the (cough, cough) "integrity" of their games in a legal maneuver known as the "retroactive virgin defense."

Remember, this is the same NFL that announced last week that teams were free to negotiate deals with state lotteries for use of logos on instant-game scratch-off tickets. No gambling there, right? And everyone photocopies the NCAA basketball bracket just to keep up with the schedule, right?

Still, it will be interesting to see what happens to Maryland's already shaky slots plan should Delaware become the second state after Nevada to offer legalized sports betting.

The pressure is on. This state has a budget sinkhole of its own. The racetracks and the industry are still in a bad way. And unless Gov. Martin O'Malley wants to look like a hypocrite, he cannot raise fees because last election he criticized his opponent, incumbent Republican Robert Ehrlich, for doing just that.

There is a barrier on the road to perdition: a 1992 federal law banning sports gambling in all but four states--Nevada, Delaware, Oregon and Montana. Although there's a legal challenge to the law in the works, the odds are against it.

It would take an act of Congress, that beacon of virtue, to repeal the sports gambling ban. Unlikely? Perhaps. But Congressman Barney Frank has filed a bill to to legalize, regulate and tax Internet gambling. Frank, the chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, says he expects to hold hearings on the bill before the August recess.

In its current form, Frank's bill prohibits sports betting except for "fantasy or simulation sports games." But legislation lives to be amended and states and local governments, in their frantic scramble for money, are rationalizing all sorts of behavior, from charging students for locker room towels to raising tolls to drive on pothole-filled roads and ancient bridges.

We're reached a point where there's very little difference between betting on Rachel Alexandra and putting down money on the Denver Broncos.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 9:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
        

Each Tuesday in The Toy Department, veteran Baltimore Sun sportswriter Mike Klingaman tracks down a former local sports figure and lets you know what's going on in his\her life in a segment called "Catching Up With ..." Let Klingaman know who you'd like him to find and click here to check out previous editions of "Catching Up With ... "

He was a tall, gangly relief pitcher with a lofty IQ and a low ERA. The Orioles’ Dick Hall could compute batting averages in his head. Most of those who faced him watched their numbers fall.

Other pitchers threw harder than Hall but few threw any smarter than the 6-foot-6 right-hander, a graduate of Swarthmore College and a cog in the Orioles’ bullpen during the club’s finest years.

In nine seasons with Baltimore, Hall won 65 games, saved 58 more and had an ERA of 2.89. He helped the Birds win a couple of World Series (1966 and 1970) and two more American League flags (1969 and 1971).

He had pinpoint control despite a herky-jerky motion that one reporter said made him look like "a drunken giraffe on roller skates."

Fans chuckled at his awkward, near-sidearm delivery, and so did the pitcher.

"People said I threw like a girl," said Hall, now 78 and living in Timonium. "Hey, as long as it worked, they could say anything they wanted."

It was an effective, if unconventional style.

"I’d release the ball real close to my body and then I’d fall to one side," Hall said. "Because I was all arms and legs, hitters said they had trouble picking the ball up because the pitch seemed to be coming out of my uniform."

One time he retired 28 consecutive batters over five appearances. Strike after strike he’d throw, mixing fastballs and sliders and routinely nipping the outside corner of the plate. Walks? Nah. Hall surrendered less than one unintentional base on balls per nine innings.

So accurate was he that in 16 seasons, Hall was charged with just one wild pitch. He also holds the honor of having won the first League Championship Series game ever played, a 4-3 Orioles victory over Minnesota in 1969.

"I’m proud of that," he said. "At my age, you remember the highlights you didn’t have time to enjoy before."

In two hitches with Baltimore (1961-66 and 1969-71) he was part of a stellar bullpen that included Stu Miller, Eddie Watt, Pete Richert and the fun-loving Moe Drabowsky.

Drabowsky’s pranks kept them loose, but Hall got his licks in too.

"Whenever a new guy came (to the bullpen), I’d eat a moth," he said. "Once, Eddie dared me to bite a 17-year locust in half. So I did it – just for the effect."

When he retired at 41, as an Oriole, Hall was the oldest player in the AL.

Married 53 years, with four children and nine grandchildren, Hall works part-time as an accountant, the career he began in 1958. He is mostly recovered from a stroke he suffered eight years ago.

"I’ve had one knee replaced and my (right) shoulder is shot – I can’t throw a ball 50 feet," he said. "But I can walk and play golf, and that’s good enough."

Twice a week, he drives to Longview Golf Course in Timonium to play with a group that includes former Orioles Billy Hunter and Ron Hansen.

"Hey , Turkey!" they’ll yell when Hall enters. That has been his moniker since 1951 when he was a rookie with the Pittsburgh Pirates.

"I was in the team’s cafeteria, shoveling food in my mouth when [Pirates catcher] Joe Garagiola saw me and shouted, ‘Look at that turkey gobbler eat!’

"Well, I’ve got a long neck anyway, so the ‘Turkey’ nickname stuck."

Top photo: Ralph Robinson / Sun; Bottom photo: Paul Hutchins / Sun

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 6:00 AM in Catching Up With, Orioles, Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (24)
        

The Toy Department recently talked with Rob Dibble, who’s in his first season as MASN’s color commentator on Washington Nationals telecasts. Dibble, who won the 1990 National League Championship Series MVP during the Cincinnati Reds’ World Series-winning season, discusses his new broadcasting role, what needs to happen to ignite a true Orioles-Nationals rivalry, how he’d change baseball and more.

For viewers who have watched you for years on any number of sports shows, the Rob Dibble on MASN’s Washington Nationals telecasts seems -- dare I say it -- more mature. At 45, is the Nasty Boy becoming a nice man?

Rob Dibble: It depends on what role I’m in. If I’m doing semi-comedy, sports-news show, then they want me to be looser and more open. One of the things they always used to say to me was, ‘You really always have this serious look on your face.’ I’m like, ‘I’m really not that serious. It’s just a look I have. That’s maybe a deception on my part, but I can’t change the way I look.’ Anybody who knows me knows I’m nonstop, cracking jokes. I know how my bosses want me to be and how I’m supposed to be in this role and I act accordingly.

Some folks might say you clean up pretty good.

Rob Dibble: I give all the credit to my wife, Jonna, a former school teacher. She’s got her master’s degree and she’s very smart. She says, ‘Listen, you’re not going out there on TV like that.’ She gets a lot of my clothes, like Joseph Abboud and Hugo Boss, and she was just at Nordstrom getting more ties. She’s like, ‘I don’t know, would you like a Burberry tie that’s pink?’ And I’m like, ‘I don’t even know who Burberry is.’ She knows all that stuff and I leave it to her.

Would it serve any purpose in your present role on TV to be a more excitable boy?

Rob Dibble: In this role, for now until I know how far I can go and how edgy I can be I’m going to try and be more straightforward and kind of ‘Just the facts, ma’am.’ I work for both MASN and the Nationals and I want to be honest with the players on the field, too. It’s their time. It’s not about me.

I’ve already read some blogs and stuff that people are worried about what I’m saying. It has nothing to do with me. I’m not playing. I’m just sitting watching the game, too. I’ve been broadcasting for 12 years and I played for 7 ½. People say, ‘Well, you were this and you were that.’ Well, I’m not that guy anymore. I have to be factually correct. I try to be as informative as possible and be as fair and honest as possible. It’s got me this far. People still try and make me part of the story and that’s somewhat embarrassing because it’s not about me. Some people can’t separate me from the color analyst and me the former player and I’m trying to get some distance.

On The Junkies radio show a few weeks back, I heard you say the Nationals are capable of winning 90 games. Would you care, as they say in Congress, to revise and extend your remarks?

Rob Dibble: I didn’t say what year they would win 90 games (laughs), so I was politically correct. I’ve seen a lot of teams over the last 20 years, not only as a player but as an analyst, and this is an excellent team. They have some huge holes that they need to fill and one of them is defense. This team has all the makings of a 90-win team. They just don’t know it.

They need to put it together on the field as a team. It’s hard to bring in Adam Dunn and Josh Willingham and Scott Olsen and revamp the bullpen and expect immediate results. They’ve got to jell. You’ve got a new [pitcher], Jordan Zimmerman, who’s as good as anyone I’ve seen in 20 years starting out. But you have to remember he’s still a babe. He’s just a few games into his career, let’s not put a lot of pressure on him. Let’s just let him have fun. The one thing I don’t see the Nationals do is have fun. They don’t realize how talented they are and what a blessing it is to have a job that’s just going out and playing baseball. I had an advantage when I played with the Reds that I played with those guys for 5, 6, 7 years and they were family. I ended my career with Joe Oliver and we played together for a dozen years, from rookie ball to the end. You have to treat your teammates like family. I think the [Nationals] still aren’t family, but they’re getting closer every day.

We have the Orioles and Nationals playing each other six times this season. It’s not much of a rivalry now. Will that ever change and we’ll find ourselves with a honest-to-goodness regional rivalry?

Rob Dibble: Absolutely and very soon. I know my team and I’ve seen the Orioles an awful lot. Dave Trembley is trying to turn things around, but that’s the toughest division in the league and kind of an uphill battle. I think that with some of the younger players coming up and some of the talent I’m seeing on the field, once they settle in and start thinking about getting the bragging rights of the area, that’s when you’re going to get your rivalry. They don’t have to be right next door, like the Cubs and the White Sox. Having grown up in Connecticut between the Red Sox and the Yankees or the Bruins and Rangers and Islanders or the Celtics and the Knicks, you know they want to be the best in the area. When they rise and become competitive in their leagues, then you’ll see a Nationals-Orioles rivalry.

Three batters, nine pitches, three outs. That half inning you pitched against the Padres in 1989 was the mark of a dominant reliever. Is it hard to watch the Nationals pitching staff struggle with their economy of pitches?

Rob Dibble: Yes and no. I try not to put myself out there. I try to realize that maybe they’re not getting the coaching or tutelage at the lower levels like they should. I had a great conversation with Keith Hernandez about how the strike zone has shrunk. That’s the umpires and that’s Major League Baseball’s supervision thing they have going at every stadium. Years ago, you used to get that inside part of the plate. Now they look at it like, ‘In my opinion, you intentionally threw at the guy.’ Well, that’s absurd. A pitcher’s job is to pitch the inside and outside of the plate or else he’s not going to be able to make a living. Now you have umpires making a judgment call on you. When I was on the mound, it was business, it was never personal. Now, if you made it personal, well, you know where I am. I had 24 other guys depending on what I did. When I look at these guys (Nationals) and they’re not throwing strikes and they’re not challenging guys, there’re a number of reasons. So no, it’s not frustrating because I know why.

You’re a two-time All Star and a member of a the 1990 world champion Reds. But injury cut your career short. Any regrets?

Rob Dibble: I regret that my kids weren’t old enough to see me in my prime. My daughter was just 1 when we won the World Series and my son wasn’t even born yet. My daughter’s 19 and my son is 16. Being a divorced father now remarried, that might be my one and only regret. I don’t have any regrets on the field. I may not have had the quantity, but I had more quality than a lot of guys get in their career. The one thing I miss is being down there with the guys.

A couple of years ago on Fox, you advocated shortening the season and adding two wild card teams and another level to the playoffs to add some excitement to the game. Do you still feel that way?

Rob Dibble: Absolutely. I think stretching a season out nowadays, why do you need to go to 162 games when it used to be 154 games years ago. The first round is five games, which I don’t think is fair. Look at the Angels. You win 100 games, 50 on the road and all of the sudden, boom, you’re out in three games? Or the Cubs — you’re out in three games? I’m not a fan of that ….Why not make it a seven-game wild-card series, add more teams to it and make it more fun. Other sports have said, ‘The more teams in the playoffs, the more fun,’ because at the end of the day, you know what, it gives your fans hope. The players live for the postseason, they want to have something to play for. If you’re out of it by September and you have no shot at the playoffs, it really takes the fun out of the game.

While you still have your commissioner’s hat on, what else do you see that needs attention?

Rob Dibble: What I don’t like about the umpires is they merged. They became like a united front of umpires. There used to be a competitiveness between the two leagues. The National League was a lower strike-zone league. American League was a little bit higher. There was a give and take — ‘We’re the better umpires.’ ‘No we’re the better umpires.’ Now they’re all on the same page and now I’m shocked at how tight the strike zone is. As the game goes on it tightens up even more. That’s why you’re seeing games that are 14-12 and 10-8. Is that where the game is going, that it’s all offense, no defense and no pitching? We’ve lowered the mound, shrunk the strike zone and shrunk the ballparks. Is that all we want—offense?

It sounds like you’re mounting a campaign on behalf of the brothers of the mound.

Rob Dibble: Pitchers don’t want to put people on. My ego? I faced almost 2,000 hitters in my career, I hit 12. I’m not going to put you on for free. You’ve got to earn that right to get on base. I may scare you along the way, but that’s the inside part of the plate. People still consider me a headhunter yet I never threw at anybody’s head and never even came close. I had some good command my first five years until I got injured. To me, there is an art form to pitching inside. It’s no longer taught in junior high, high school and college so that by the time they get to the pros, that’s almost a fear thing that if I hit the guy, he’s going to charge the mound or I’m going to be ejected. If we alleviate a little bit of that fear in a pitcher’s mind, the games will be a little bit tighter. At the end of the game, there’s nothing more exciting than Mariano Rivera coming into Fenway Park with a two-run lead and then you come back on him. That’s better than some game … that ends up being a football score.

If you were putting together a team and you could have one starting pitcher, one everyday player and one reliever to build around, who would you choose?

Rob Dibble: Wow, that’s a tough one. Roy Halladay would be my starter. Albert Pujols would be my everyday player. Brad Lidge would be my closer.

Which two teams do you see in this year's World Series?

Rob Dibble: I’m picking the Cubs and the Red Sox because I’m all about history and I’d like to see the Cubs put this 100-year deal behind them. I love Lou (Piniella) and I love some of the guys on that team. Cubs-Red Sox, I think that would be great for baseball.

And who would you be rooting for?

Rob Dibble: I root for a great story (laughs). I’m the son of a newsman. My dad was a newsman in Connecticut for 50 years.

One last question, Rob. Who was the nastiest Nasty Boy?

Rob Dibble: By far, me (laughs). Being mean and nasty was just part of my nature … I was never well liked on a baseball field. My thing was, you’re going to get a battle. That’s what my dad taught me, to be the best at whatever I do or try to be the best. In a battle out there, you’re going to get the best of me and I’m going to get the best of you. That’s the thing I loved about my career. We could be getting blown out and because of my reputation, benches would stand up and they’d start heckling, but they would still give me their best at-bats.

Top photo: MASN Sports

Bottom photo: Handout

Posted by Candus Thomson at 9:45 AM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (17)
        

Each Tuesday in the Toy Department, veteran Baltimore Sun sportswriter Mike Klingaman tracks down a former local sports figure and let's you know what's going on in his/her life in a segment called, "Catching Up With ... " Let Klingaman know who you'd like him to find and click here to check out previous editions of "Catching Up With ..."

He spent only two years in Baltimore, but few players have touched Orioles fans more deeply than Eric Davis.

It was here that Davis learned he had colon cancer, here that he fought it and here that he beat it. When the Orioles outfielder hit a dramatic ninth-inning home run against the Cleveland Indians in Game 5 of the 1997 American League Championship Series – with chemotherapy drugs coursing through his veins – all of baseball applauded.

Eric Davis connects for a solo homer off Paul Assenmacher in the ninth inning of the 1997 ALCS.

The pinch-hit blast won the game for the Birds and froze Davis’ image forever.

"I will be a role model for cancer patients for the rest of my life," he said. "But you know what? When I was getting chemo, those people inspired me.

"Circulating through the children’s ward and seeing terminally ill kids, heads shaved, smiling and having a ball despite the tubes and needles sticking into them, I thought: What do I have to worry about? If God takes me, at least I’ve lived for 35 years.

"Every (get-well) letter I got touched my heart; I kept them all. But those patients helped me more than I ever could have helped them."

Now 46, his cancer long in remission, Davis works for the Cincinnati Reds as special assistant to the general manager. Plagued by injuries in his 18-year career, he’s in good health despite the 13 surgeries he had as a player. Nor does his six-month-old granddaughter make him feel aged.

"I’ve asked her to please call me ‘paw-paw,’ " Davis said. " ‘Grandpa’ sounds so old."

There were times when, as an Oriole, his life seemed at risk. Signed as a free agent in 1997, the two-time All-Star was diagnosed with cancer that May. Doctors at Johns Hopkins Hospital removed a tumor the size of an orange from his colon, then started Davis on chemotherapy. His season, if not his career, appeared over.

But Davis nursed himself into shape and, in mid-September, returned to the game to pinch-hit amid a tumultuous greeting at Camden Yards.

"Walking up to the plate, well, no words can describe it," he said. "There was a lump in my throat. I tried to step into the batter’s box, but the fans wouldn’t let me. The (ovation) must have gone on for two minutes."

Davis glanced left and right to see both dugouts empty in a nod to his courage.

"That was, like, whoa," he said. "After that, all I could think was, ‘Don’t mess up.’ "

Davis flied out to deep center field. Several weeks later, his ninth-inning homer off the Indians' Paul Assenmacher helped the Orioles take Game 5, 4-2. But he never boasts about that.

"I was called on to do a job, and I did it," he said.

Despite a banner year in 1998 in which he led the Orioles in batting (.327), hit 28 homers and connected safely in 30 straight games, the club cut him loose at season’s end. The move still irks Davis.

"Not being re-signed in Baltimore was probably the lowest point, mentally, of my career," he said. "That city was the only place where I wanted to be at the time, based on everything that had transpired."

Davis played three more years, then retired. A Los Angeles resident, he has created a foundation to raise money for oncology research. He’s a spokesman for colon cancer prevention. And he’ll never forget those who spurred his recovery.

Earlier this year, in spring training, a spectator waved to Davis as he stood on the field before a Reds game.

"Hi Eric," Keith Lillemoe said. "Remember me?"

Lillemoe was the Hopkins surgeon who had removed Davis’ tumor. It had been 12 years, but Davis knew him. Bear hugs followed.

"You don’t forget people like that," Davis said.

Photos: Top (AP); Bottom (Baltimore Sun photo by Kenneth K. Lam)

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 6:00 AM in Catching Up With, Orioles | Permalink | Comments (20)
        

Michael Phelps was busy in Charlotte, N.C., this weekend with his return to competitive swimming, so he couldn't attend the 134th running of the Preakness Stakes. But that's probably a good thing. The Olympian, you see, is still steaming a bit over the Derby bet that wasn't.

Phelps attended his first Kentucky Derby a few weeks ago, and he and his coach, Bob Bowman, spent the day in Bob Baffert's luxury box because Phelps is friends with a member of Baffert's family. The 14-time gold medal winner is an admitted novice to the Sport of Kings, so he decided prior to the day that he was going to be $20 on the No. 8 horse in every race. The number eight having special meaning for Phelps, obviously, because it matches the eight gold medals he won in Beijing in August, breaking Mark Spitz's record for golds in a single Olympics.

Considering that eventual Derby winner Mine That Bird -- a 50-to-1 long shot prior to the race -- was starting from the No. 8 position, you'd assume Phelps hit it big in his first Triple Crown race, right?

Not exactly. You see, Phelps managed to bet on the No. 8 horse in ever single race except the Kentucky Derby. His Derby bet, Pioneerof the Nile,

"It's a touchy subject, ok?" Phelps joked last week. "But yeah. Literally ever race except that one. I figured Pioneerof the Nile was a good bet to win. And as soon as (Mine That Bird) starts coming, my friends were like 'Nah, he's gonna die. No way. No way.' But he wins, and I just sat down and put my hands to my head. How do I not take the No. 8 horse?"

A few races prior to the Derby, Phelps had even managed to convince the people in the box next to Baffert's to put money on the No. 8 horse. He told them eight had always been lucky for him.

"Afterward, they were like 'We won!' " Phelps said. "I just shook my head. It's like getting one-outed in poker. Not cool."

Posted by Kevin Van Valkenburg at 5:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

Each Tuesday in the Toy Department, veteran Sun sportswriter Mike Klingaman tracks down a former local sports figure and lets you know what's going on in his/her life in a segment called "Catching Up With ... " Let Klingaman know who you'd like him to find and click here to check out previous editions of "Catching Up With ... "

When he chose pro basketball over a medical career, folks thought Jack Marin should have his head examined. Play for the bedraggled Baltimore Bullets rather than become a doctor? 

Forty-three years later, Marin has no regrets. The Bullets’ top draft pick in 1966 wouldn’t change a thing. His six years in Baltimore convinced him that it was more fun to take shots on the court than to give them in a hospital.

"I thought I’d play ball for a couple of years to get money for med school," said Marin, a Duke grad who averaged 15 points a game over 11 NBA seasons. "I didn’t know that I’d find the game so enjoyable and challenging.

"I guess I just wanted to be an adolescent a while longer."

Now 64, Marin is a lawyer living in Durham, N.C. While he once battled guys like John Havlicek and Jerry Lucas, he now represents them as outside counsel to the National Basketball Retired Players Association.

A two-time All-Star forward, Marin relished his time with the Bullets, helping the club go from worst to first in three short years. His rookie season, Baltimore won 20 games and finished 48 games off the pace. In 1968-69, the Bullets won a league-best 57 games and took the NBA East.

That team -- forwards Marin and Gus Johnson, guards Earl Monroe and Kevin Loughery and rookie center Wes Unseld -- put the town on the basketball map.

"What chemistry we had," the 6-foot-7 Marin said. "It was fun, up-tempo basketball, to play and to watch. I left after every game, exhausted."

His career highlight? The 1971 division championship series against the New York Knicks, won by the Bullets in seven games. That spring, Baltimore was still reveling in the Orioles’ 1970 World Series victory and the Colts’ Super Bowl title. When the undersized Bullets topped the hated Knicks, fans went nuts.

"Those games were works of art," Marin said. "Perfect matchups, perfect drama. The Knicks had Willis Reed, Walt Frazier and a championship aura. We were less disciplined, the upstarts. Those were chess games, all."

Marin was guarded by New York’s Bill Bradley, later a U.S. senator. Routinely, Bradley tried to rattle Marin by stepping on his toes and yanking at his shorts.

"When he (Bradley) retired from the Senate, I sent a note congratulating him on his service to his country," Marin said. "Then I wrote, 'You were a far dirtier basketball player than a politician.'"

A left-hander, Marin played with a large red birthmark that ran from shoulder to elbow. Self conscious? Not Marin.

"I told people that one night my shooting was so hot that I set my arm on fire."

In 1972 he was dealt to Houston in a trade for Elvin Hayes, who would help the Bullets to a world championship in 1978. Marin holds no grudge.

"I met my wife in Houston," he said. "She wasn’t into basketball. I told her I was with the Rockets. She thought I worked at the space center."

Married 35 years, Marin is an avid golfer, the champ at his country club and a favorite in celebrity tournaments. Last month, he defeated Mickey Tettleton (former Orioles catcher) by three strokes to win the San Diego Celebrity Classic.

Marin also volunteers as a golf instructor at Camp Lejeune, N.C., where he teaches the game to Marines wounded in combat.

"These are veterans who’ve suffered everything from burns to amputations to brain injury," Marin said. "Golf helps these guys get through tough times. Some say they want to be competitive players some day.

"That’s very rewarding."

Baltimore Sun file photos

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 6:00 AM in Catching Up With | Permalink | Comments (21)
        

They haven't even had the post draw for the 134th Preakness Stakes and already Rachel Alexandra has kicked up such a fuss you would think she was bringing swine flu.

A year after Big Brown brought his bad-boy steroids rep to Pimlico, a filly has become the diva of the Triple Crown. Who would have thought it?

Even the hint of her appearance this week had the high rollers backpedaling.

"Any man would be a fool to welcome that," said Chip Woolley, trainer of Mine That Bird, the shocking Kentucky Derby winner. "She's tough. Am I craving to run against her? No. If she's there, we'll try to beat her if we can. As much as anything, I don't want her to go if she's taking my rider."

And she will take his rider -- Cajun Calvin Borel -- if she goes.

Jess Jackson, part of the Stonestreet Stables ownership team that purchased Rachel Alexandra this week, said Friday he wants his new filly to run in the Preakness. She can, as long as 14 other horses nominated for the Triple Crown in the early nominating don't enter. She's out if that happens.

What a shame that would be. Let her run. Let's see what Mine That Bird and Musket Man and Papa Clem and General Quarters -- all Derby horses -- can do on the same track. What a stroke of good fortune for the Maryland Jockey Club, which can use it.

David Fawkes, whose Florida-bred Big Drama is one of the shooters this year, wanted to run in the Preakness because Rachel Alexandra's previous owner said she wouldn't run here. Fawkes said he wanted to avoid the super filly and this was the place to be.

Gary Stute, the trainer of Big Clem, was also nonplussed by the news. He saw the finish line at Pimlico, and then he saw Rachel Alexandra.

"That filly is in a different world than the rest of us," he said. "She is something spectacular. I'm trying to convince Bob Baffert to enter another horse, because if he enters another horse, we'd already have 14 entries and she'll be on the sidelines. To be honest, it really disappointed me [to learn the filly might run] because ... I thought I had one heck of a shot in the Preakness."

Baffert not only hasn't entered a second horse, the California trainer hasn't entered his first, Pioneerof the Nile, although he is tentatively scheduled to arrive at Pimlico on Wednesday for the draw. Pioneerof the Nile finished second in the Derby. If he shows, the top four horses from that race will be in Baltimore to take on Rachel Alexandra.

How could you ask for anything better?

AP photos

Posted by Ken Murray at 7:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)
        

It's a walk in the park. It's a contest. It's two, two, two events in one.

For the second year, the Maryland State Park Service is running "Park Quest," an adventure and scavenger hunt with a pot of prizes at the end that begins tomorrow and runs through Aug. 8.

Last year's inaugural contest was strictly an Eastern Shore affair, involving a half-dozen parks. Families and friends formed more than 100 teams and competed to see who could answer the most questions about the flora and fauna (and a few manmade items) at each site. The quest took part in the woods and on the water, with the parks service supplying the boats and kayaks. Some scavenger hunts were timed, some weren't.

The competition required teamwork and problem solving. As the only member of Team Spartacus, I was adopted by two other groups--Team Wandering Wootens and Team Fearless Foxes, both of Ocean Pines--and had a blast.

This year the contest has expanded to 14 parks, from Swallow Falls in Garrett County to Assateague on the Atlantic Ocean.

Getting started is simple: Register online, go to a park, get a clue sheet and find the answers, which could be on a map, part of a sign, under your feet or over your head. The whole shebang is free.

Teams that complete eight Quests will qualify for the Finale where teams compete for outdoor prize packages. Registration is limited to 300 teams.

The details are at: dnr.state.md.us/parkquest/index.asp

Baltimore Sun photo by Candus Thomson

Posted by Candus Thomson at 7:00 AM in Get Out | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

Who knew that "Manny being Manny," extended beyond being a petulant boob?

Our sister paper, the Los Angeles Times, broke today's story about Dodgers slugger Manny Ramirez being suspended for 50 games by Major League Baseball after testing positive for a banned substance.

It took Manny less than two months since signing a new two-year, $45-million contract to kick his bosses and teammates in the teeth.    

The Red Sox, who replaced Manny with Jason Bay and seem none the worse for wear, knew when to get out. Bay is hitting .311 with seven home runs and has a .462 on-base percentage and .622 slugging percentage. He's a better defensive player and good in the clubhouse.

After getting several months of tranquility last season after Manny's coast-to-coast trade, the Dodgers now know what it's like to have a hitting machine that doesn't care what the target is.

The team will have to replace its best offensive player -- six homes runs, .348 average, .492 on-base percentage and .641 slugging percentage -- with promoted Triple-A outfielder Xavier Paul.

And who, besides Red Sox general Manager Theo Epstein, gets the last laugh?

Once again, it's that one-man truth squad, Jose Canseco.

Last month Canseco said Ramirez's name "is most likely, 90%" on a list of 104 players that failed a drug test in 2003. The players were given anonymity in return for taking tests; only Yankees third baseman Alex Rodriguez has been identified among that group.

When Times columnist Kurt Streeter relayed Canseco's remarks to him, Ramirez laughed.

"I got no comment, nothing to say about that," Ramirez told Streeter. "What can I say? I don't even know the guy."

You don't have to say anything, Manny. Just go away.

AP photo

Posted by Candus Thomson at 12:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)
        

For a few hours this morning, we can hope that this year's Preakness will be joined by Rachel Alexandra, the fabulous filly that was the runaway winner of the Kentucky Oaks race at Churchill Downs the day before the Derby.

The 3-year-old horse was purchased by a group headed by the man who campaigned Curlin, the 2007 Preakness winner and two-time Horse of the Year. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/07/sports/othersports/07racing.html?_r=1&ref=sports

Jess Jackson, the head of the group, yesterday raised the possibility that he'll enter his new horse in the Preakness Stakes, although he noted that he doesn't have a trainer or rider yet.

Rachel Alexandra vs. Mine That Bird, the Derby winner. Now, that's the excitment needed to pump up lagging Preakness ticket sales.

And what a dilemma for jockey Calvin Borel, who rode both horses last weekend and proclaimed he liked the girl better. 

"I think she's the best horse in the country right now," Borel said last Saturday.

Rachel Alexandra has won five straight races, starting with last fall's Golden Rod Stakes at Churchill. She won the Oaks by 20-1/4 lengths, believed to be a record, and in near-stakes-record time.

With time rowing short and no chance at the Triple Crown, chances are Jackson will skip over the Preakness to have his horse ready for the Belmont Stakes.

And The Preakness, where the field is capped at 14, may not have room for Rachel Alexandra--not a Triple Crown nominated horse. There's nine definite entries, and a nominated horse would bump the filly if it came to that.

Jackson said in the The Times interview that he would decide today, after watching Rachel Alexandra work out.

Good on him for not making a snap decision on the future of his new purchase. But let's hope he has the new owner's itch to see what the girl can do.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 7:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
        

On August 13, 2007, Condoleezza Rice, former secretary of state, announced that Cal Ripken Jr. had been named special sports envoy for the U.S. State Department. Two months later, he set off on his first assignment – a week-and-a-half in China, meeting with dignitaries and teaching Chinese children how to play baseball. Hunt Valley-based Renegade, a multi-service production company, was there for every twist and turn of the trip. Renegade returned home with nearly 30 hours of footage, from which they’ve produced “A Shortstop in China.” The one-hour documentary debuts Friday on MASN, immediately following the Orioles game. It replays several more times.

Renegade president Tim Watkins and VP of product Chris Beutler recently spoke with the Toy Department about “A Shortstop in China.”

Before we talk about the documentary, what did you guys expect and what were you anticipating when you took on the project?

Watkins: When [Ripken’s PR representative] John Maroon floated the idea, we jumped at it. It seemed exciting and exotic.

Beutler: I think we were pretty excited to have the opportunity to do it. I was immediately psyched with the idea because I’ve always been interested in the whole "ping-pong diplomacy" thing with Nixon. There was legacy to it that I thought was an interesting opportunity. We believed there was a good story there.

What did you think of your access? Were there any restrictions or did you feel you were able to roam around and tell the story however you wanted?

Watkins: There were definitely some limitations placed on us from the Chinese side. ... There was a very rigorous schedule, so we had to stick with that. We would’ve loved to have gotten more Chinese human interest, but obviously, between the schedule and what we were allowed to do ...

Beutler: I always had a feeling that really good documentary film making is about the ability to build a relationship of trust with whatever subject matter you’re shooting. Considering the demands of Cal’s schedule every day, it was interesting process and I thought we got closer and closer to him as the trip went on. I think he really saw that we were able to tell the story without getting in way. ... I think that’s what people want to see in the film, a chance to see Cal as they’ve never seen Cal. Cal has this reputation as a pretty guarded guy for all of his career. With the press, you always wonder if you’re getting the guarded Cal, am I getting close to the real Cal?

The Renegade crew with former Oriole B.J. Surhoff (far left) and Ripken.

We obviously grow up with baseball here, but the Chinese are mostly unfamiliar with the game. Did this surprise you at all?The Renegade crew with former Oriole B.J. Surhoff (far left) and Ripken (center).

Watkins: It’s kind of funny because [Assistant Secretary of State of East Asian and Pacific Affairs] Christopher Hill at one point mentioned how this stuff is made there -- someone there is making baseballs -- and they have no idea what it is. ... Their reactions when we went on streets with a baseball were priceless and funny. Some people knew what baseball was, but there was no one who knew who Cal Ripken was. There was one guy who thought he might’ve been Andre Agassi.

There were surely many different emotions, considering you have everything from ratty orphanages to laughing children. When people watch this documentary, are they going to laugh? Cry? Think?

Watkins: I think there’s definitely cute emotive points, some funny elements, I think. There’s a lot of intrigue. China is a bit of a mystery – maybe a bit less after the Olympics – but they’re kind of quietly out there. And for 1.3 billion people to be quietly out there, I think people will have a natural interest in seeing what they’re like and how they play.

Beutler: What we always wanted to do was a feel-good film. At the end of the day, we wanted it to be a film of hope. And it was. It was a film about diplomacy as much as it was about baseball. ... I think it’s an interesting celebration of a sports personality who’s carved himself a very unique post-sports career. If you’re a Cal fan -- a baseball fan -- it shows sport as a means to develop skills that will help in life later on. It shows that sports are not trivial ways to waste time. I think Cal believes that and it really comes out. I personally, think this is the ultimate dad-and-son film; it’s something for dads to watch with kids and see what sports mean. On the flip side, it’s also a great chick flick. You got Cal hanging with kids, you got those big blue eyes. … It’s an upbeat, fun movie.

Watkins: Kids are kids and inherently, they‘ll act like kids. I thought it was funny, we were in Shanghai and the kids were given baseball cards. Well, we were watching the coaches take their own clinic, and the kids were up in stands and were taking their duplicates and trading them with each other. What could be more fundamental than kids taking their baseball cards and swapping them with one another?

Question: You met with Cal just before he left the country. Did you feel like he knew what to expect?

Beutler: I think he had reservations about two things: One, the program itself -- Will he be able to translate the sport of baseball with the language barrier? Secondly, I think he had a real concern that culturally, he’d do the wrong thing, do something culturally acceptable in America that might be misinterpreted in China.

Obviously Cal is accustomed to having all eyes on him when he walks in a room. You guys have seen him since his playing days; what did you find most striking whenever Cal entered a room with Chinese business leaders, interacted with locals or met with schoolchildren? How did he react and how did people react to him?

Beutler: When you watch the footage, I think Cal was very much a listener. He was very conscientious to be respectful of the culture. I think the guy truly believes respect is an important thing in life. I don’t think most of the people in the envoy really had the opportunity to see much, though. Their schedules were so booked.

Did he accomplish his goals for the trip?

Watkins: I think from the perspective of baseball’s success in the future ... on some level they have some commitment. We drove through towns where you saw 40-foot banners of Yao Ming, though, and basketball hoops everywhere. Basketball has taken over much of the country. To me, one of the things in the story is this triangle of diplomacy, commerce and sport and how they interact on an international scene is so important. In order for [baseball] to be successful in China, there was to be some commercialism attached to it. If they can’t attach that, it will be difficult for them to make it grow.

* View photos of Ripken's trip to China

* Read Baltimore Sun coverage of Ripken's trip to China

* Browse The Sun's Cal Ripken Jr. special section

Posted by baltimoresun.com at 5:00 AM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

In a perfect world, disgraced quarterback and dog-fighting mastermind Michael Vick would end up working for bullying and clueless Washington Redskins owner Daniel Snyder, allowing current quarterback Jason Campbell to tunnel out to a happier world. 

As much as Vick's conduct disgusts civilized people, there's an inevitabliity to his rehabilitation and march back to the NFL. He's paying his debt to society. We forgive and forget too easily. And too many teams need a quarterback.

Vick will be transferred from the federal prison in Levenworth, Kansas, to his home in Hampton, Va., on May 21 for two month's of home confinement. He'll work a $10-an-hour construction job during that time. But then what?

The NFL has said all the right things about Vick needing to show his remorse and about making amends before he is allowed to return. On Tuesday, Vick met with retired Colts' coach Tony Dungy, who is involved in prison ministry.

On the one hand, the better part of you wants Vick to get his head out of his butt and embrace some worthy cause. The Hollywood ending.

But his initial bankruptcy filing--his road map to the immediate future--indicates he's still off in the weeds. His debts vastly outnumber his assets. He expects to land another huge long-term contract and wants to keep his two homes (total value $3 million) and three luxury vehicles.

Who's his financial adviser, Michael Jackson? Maybe Vick should buy Neverland.

And there remains a suspicion that the meeting with Dungy was cooked up by Vick's agent, who called it "positive."

The Atlanta Falcons still have Vick under contract until 2013 and say they can trade his rights. An owner who long ago lost his credibility with the public might not care if PETA pickets.

If not Snyder, who loves to hire over-priced, over-the-hill talent (See: Sanders, Deion), how about Al Davis?

Hope for the best, but expect the worst.

Do we let Michael Vick out of the doghouse?

Posted by Candus Thomson at 8:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
        

So what are the odds the 3-year-old gelding that stole the Kentucky Derby can pull off another upset in the Preakness Stakes on May 16? Could Mine That Bird become the eighth Kentucky Derby winner in the last 12 years to take the Preakness, too?

Mine That Bird will be dismissed from Baltimore to the West Coast in the next two weeks, as a handful of Derby entrants and a giddy group of shooters arrive at Pimlico eager to defrock the Derby winner. Let's give the colt his due. Or let's let Jeannine Edwards, an ESPN racing analyst, give him his due.

"I do think the stars all aligned for him in the Derby," Edwards said this week. "And it would be hard to duplicate that. However, I think this horse has a ton of heart. And we've all seen he has ability.

"I don't think he would disgrace himself in the Preakness. I don't think he will run a terrible race. I think he's an honest, hard-trying little horse."

Edwards believes the slop at Churchill Downs and the heady ride from Calvin Borel made the difference in Louisville's cavalry charge. The horse had not been on an off track before, so no one knew how he would respond.

Before the Derby, Edwards asked trainer Chip Woolley Jr. about the horse's potential on a muddy surface.

"The horse was standing next to us," she said. "He's small, he's got these little deer feet. Chip said, 'They can usually skip right over the mud.'"

Skip he did, right up the best part of the bad track, along the rail, to blow away the Derby field. He had the speed to glide over the mud and the right size to squeeze into a tiny opening for his best chance to outrun Pioneerof the Nile.

Mine That Bird came out of the race in such good shape that Woolley and the horse's owners made plans to drive him up here early next week. The New Mexico cowboys had planned on running in the Belmont, a race won by Mine That Bird's sire Birdstone. That's a race Mine That Bird was bred for.

Asked if the Preakness might make it more difficult for Mine That Bird to win the Belmont, Edwards hedged her bet only slightly.

"He's a little horse, not a skinny horse," she said. "He's a well-bodied little guy. Chip Woolley knows the horse and if he feels it might take too much out of him, or he's not training with the same gusto, he just won't run [in the Preakness]."

And nobody wants to see Mine That Bird sit out the Preakness. We want to see another miracle.

Posted by Ken Murray at 6:00 AM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (0)
        

Nothing says, "Get your swine flu here," like a crowded sports venue.

And, brother, do we have a petri dish worth of events on the calendar: the Preakness, Capitals playoffs and NCAA lacrosse playoffs--men's and women's, for starters. Throw in college and high schools graduations and you've got an epic battle: Microorganisms, 10, Immune system, 0.

Kids in grade school learn to thoroughly wash their hands to the Alphabet Song. In the 20 seconds or so it takes to reach, "next time won't you sing with me?" the hands are scrubbed free of the nasties. (As an aside, Toy Department notes that police departments use the song to nab drunken drivers. Nothing says "bombed" like "MNLOP.")

But what about sports fans?

Well, the ESPN sports theme--Da-da-dah, Da-da-dah--takes two seconds. So you can do that 10 times.

A sprightly sung, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, runs about 30 seconds. Finishing washing at, "If they don't win it's a shame," and turn to the paper towels or air dryer for the, "One, two, three strikes," conclusion.

Now, Orioles fans don't have much to worry about, seeing as how the population of Camden Yards on most days doesn't measure up to the numbers in a good-sized university lecture hall.

Still, we want fans to be safe. So...

"Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!
Orioles Magic! Feel it happen!

O - R - I - O - L - E - S !

Magic! Magic! Magic! Magic!"

Wash, rinse and repeat. Return to your seat.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 11:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

Each Tuesday in the Toy Department, veteran Sun sportswriter Mike Klingaman tracks down a former local sports figure and lets you know what's going on in his/her life in a segment called "Catching Up With ..." Let Klingaman know who you'd like him to find and click here to check out previous editions of "Catching Up With ..."

The weathered metal street sign hangs atop the wet bar in his home, a green-and-white reminder of his baseball years in Baltimore. "Triandos Drive," it reads.

"That is my favorite memento," said Gus Triandos, 78, onetime Orioles slugger. Half a century later, he remains one of only three players to have a road named for him (with Brooks Robinson and Cal Ripken, Jr.).

A burly, brooding, slow-footed catcher, Triandos was the Orioles’ first power hitter – the favorite of fans when he rattled the fences and the goat when he didn’t. But the three-time All Star accomplished enough that in 1962, when he moved into a new development in Timonium, a street there took his name.

"Some years ago, they replaced the street sign and mailed the old one to me," said Triandos, of San Jose, Cal. "It’s one of my few (keepsakes). I didn’t save much stuff over the years. I never wanted to be in situations where I had to bore guests with my exploits."

In a 13-year career – eight with the Orioles – Triandos caught two no-hitters, hit 30 home runs in one season (then an American League record for catchers) and won the sympathies of fans for his ballyhooed efforts to handle the elusive offerings of knuckleball pitcher Hoyt Wilhelm.

Finally, the Orioles developed an oversized mitt to help Triandos capture Wilhelm’s knucklers.

"Hoyt’s was an amazing pitch. It waved at you as it went by," Triandos said. "Catching him wasn’t a great deal of fun."

In 1958, when Wilhelm no-hit New York’s AL champs, 1-0, Triandos’ 425-foot clout in the seventh inning won it.

"Catching Hoyt was such a miserable experience, I just wanted to end the game," he said.

An Oriole from 1955 through 1962, Triandos hit 142 home runs for Baltimore, many in cavernous Memorial Stadium which was more spacious early on than later. At 6 feet 3 and 215 pounds, fans thought him aptly named: Gus Triandos, a rugged Greek with a brawny look and a plodding gait.

He still derides his lack of speed.

"They called me the slowest player of the decade," he said, "but it was more like the century. Of course, I thought I was runnin’ like hell – except that the scenery didn’t pass by too fast."

Once he hit an inside-the-park home run against Boston, chugging around the bases as Hall of Famer Ted Williams chased the ball through the outfield.

"I scored standing up," Triandos said proudly. "Winded? Sure. I wasn’t used to stuff like that."

He also stole one base, against Yankees catcher Darrell Johnson on the final day of the 1958 season.

"I went in standing up on that one, too," Triandos said. "Johnson never got over that."

Dealt to Detroit in 1962, he bounced around the majors for a while. In 1964, Triandos caught Hall of Famer Jim Bunning’s no-hitter for Philadelphia.

After baseball, he moved to California and started a mail delivery business. Now retired, Triandos lives in a trailer park with Evelyn, his wife of 57 years. A great-grandfather, he is fighting a leg infection that has kept him in bed for two weeks.

"I think I’m mildewing," he said. "Whoever said that getting old is beautiful was full of it."

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 8:00 AM in Catching Up With | Permalink | Comments (62)
        

This is a plea to a warm-climate people, to a people who love sports but would never flip on a hockey game because hockey is that game with a lot of pushing and shoving with a punch thrown in for variety.

Watch the Capitals' Alex Ovechkin. Don't be the last person on your block to see the best thing on skates since Michelle Kwan won figure skating's world championship in Washington in 2003. 

Ovie is the real deal, not someone hyped by the sports star-starved Washington media. Pick a game, any game--the Russian with the gap-toothed grin can take it, shake it and make it his own.

Don't take my word, just read accounts of last night's 4-3 playoff win by the Capital over the Pittsburgh (boo) Penguins. Or ask Ravens coach John Harbaugh, who was part of the crowd of 18,277, even if he did watch from a luxury suite.

Ovechkin scored a hat trick to account for all but one of the goals by the Capitals. The other boy wonder of hockey, Pittsburgh's Sidney Crosby, matched him.

It was great theater. Add to the mix that the two don't like each other very much--well, not at all--and this series has the makings of a great passion play.

Crosby scored first to give his team the lead, which held up through the first period. Ovechkin answered early in the second period. Crosby scored again. The Caps added another before the close of the period.

In the final frame, Ovie fired in two before Crosby responded with his final goal in the final minute.

They play different styles. Crosby skims the ice like a drop of water on a hot skillet. Ovechkin chews it up and spits it out.

So the Caps lead the series 2-0 and head to Pittsburgh for a game tomorrow night.

The Orioles and Nationals aren't going anywhere this year. Ravens mini-camp is still on the horizon. So what do you have to lose?

If you're watching Ovechkin, not much.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 7:00 AM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (1)
        

Can you break your neck and not know it?

Patrick Worrall did.

A longtime steeplechase rider from Upperco, Worrall learned after a fall last month that he had suffered a fractured vertebra. The good news? The neck was broken years ago and has already mended nicely.

Worrall got the somber news six days before the Maryland Hunt Cup. Nonetheless, he chose to ride in that race but dropped out at midpoint when his horse balked at jumping a fence.

Worrall, 37, can’t understand how he could have no recollection of having suffered an injury of that magnitude.

"The doctors said it was a pretty serious fracture," he said. "But I will keep riding – and keep tabs on my soundness. It’s a dangerous world out there, but this is a beautiful sport.

"People talk about the thundering hooves, and how each rider has a bucket of courage – and how, as you get older, you start to run low on courage and scrape the bottom of the bucket.

"At this point, I feel that I still have something in that bucket."

Posted by Mike Klingaman at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
        

We of Toy Department are not a sentimental bunch. There's no crying in baseball and most other games we covered--except for a Brett Farve retirement news conference.

But it would be impossible to ignore the events of last week and the effect they had had on Toy Department, just five weeks old. The shelves, while not empty, just don't look right.

Cutbacks at the Sun took three of our members: Rick Maese, Bill Ordine and Childs Walker. Their loss and the loss of others in the newsroom brought things to a screeching halt. Nothing was posted on the site because, frankly, no one had the heart. Sports seemed pretty irrelevant. 

Toy Department really isn't of the Sun. It was designed on bar napkins at the Midtown Yacht Club, home of the never-ending peanuts and plastic pitchers of beer, a couple blocks away. Five of us kicked around ideas for a month, and with the help of our Web gurus, finally fired the site up just after the start of March Madness.

Unfortunately, the madness didn't stop after North Carolina won, so here we are.

So this is both Today's Special and an appreciation of our fellow toy makers. In honor of the Preakness, it's a daily double.

In a world of words, Walker also is a man of numbers. He keeps stats--the important ones, the silly ones, the "wow" ones. If you want to make a little money, he's the perfect guy to have next to you at a bar trivia contest. He may be looking for work, so keep that in mind. Our most versatile member, he was stateside backup to our Olympic coverage team during the Turin and Beijing Games, only bitching slightly. He enjoys a good political debate, too.

A love of the odds and the odd sports makes Ordine good company. He can talk poker and competitive eating, horse betting and darts. He can explain Philadelphia sports, no small task. He's served time as an editor, so he's battled-tested. A calming influence, he can tell hilarious stories about the nasty people we are forced to cover, making contact a little less icky.

Finally, we come to Maese, really the driving force behind Toy Department ("What if we took management's totally crappy blog idea and made it something worth reading?"). I'll tell just one story about him, mostly because it's the only one that doesn't require heavy redaction.

The two of us are at the 2006 Winter Olympics, our primary responsibility covering local figure skater Kimmie Meissner. We learn that she's training not in Turin, but in the Alps, two hours away. So Maese hires us a car and driver to get there. Now most reporters are tooling around in Mercedes and other high-end Euro cars. Our driver shows up in a Chysler mini-van.

As we climb out of the city, it begins snowing--hard. Our driver, who speaks little English, keeps to a steady 80 mph, fishtailing past tractor-trailers and saner-moving traffic and sliding toward the guardrail and a plunge to a certain death.

In the middle of a white-knuckle panic in the back seat, Maese pulls out a small digital camera, turns the lense toward us and pushes the shutter. "If we live, this will make a great blog post," he says.

We did, and it did. The photo a testament to I don't know what.

This is a new week, and those of us remaining at Toy Department will give it a go. It won't be easy. Bear with us.

Posted by Candus Thomson at 6:34 AM in Today's Special | Permalink | Comments (6)
        

It's Kentucky Derby weekend so we're revisiting Kevin Van Valkenburg's popular piece from last year comparing the Run for the Roses and the Preakness. We've dispatched Kevin to Kentucky to do some actual research for a change and see if it still holds up. Read his new Derby stories here.   

The Kentucky Derby and the Preakness are like fraternal twins. Though forever linked, they couldn’t be more different.

While the Kentucky Derby has staked its reputation to its air of wealth and class, the Preakness has always been more comfortable as the Everyman’s leg of the Triple Crown. You might spend $300 a night on a hotel at the Derby, and you might fork over $60 to park in someone’s yard outside the Preakness, but both might feel like a bargain, depending on what you’re looking for.

Before we reach the final turn in the buildup to the Preakness and before we put another furlong between ourselves and the Derby, we thought we’d size them up for a point-by-point comparison, like boxers at a weigh-in. Hope you enjoy.

Celebrities

Kentucky Derby

Hugh Hefner, P. Diddy, the Clintons, Ed Norton, Terrell Owens, Bill O’Reilly, Bo Derek, Joe Piscopo, Gabrielle Union, Fred Willard, Smokey Robinson.

Preakness

Um ... Does Tara Reid still count? We think she showed up once while she was in the process of derailing Kyle Boller’s NFL career.

Comment

You know the Preakness is hurting in this category when local sportscasters are considered celebrities.

Advantage

Surprisingly, Preakness. Who wants to rub elbows with boring rich people who know less about horse racing than they do about politics? Get them out of our way before we spill Coors Light on their Armani. We just spotted Gary Williams and want to buy him a drink.

***  

Song

Kentucky Derby

"My Old Kentucky Home"

Preakness

"Maryland, My Maryland"

Comment

"Maryland, My Maryland" was originally a nine-stanza poem written by school teacher James Ryder Randall upon hearing the news that Union troops were busting through Baltimore. It is, essentially, a call for Marylanders to take up arms against the North and brazenly refers to President Lincoln as both a "tyrant" and a "despot." Many scholars, including Frederick Douglass, felt that "My Old Kentucky Home," written by Stephen Foster, helped awaken sympathy for slaves on Southern plantations.

Advantage

Derby. In addition to the uncomfortable political undertones, "Maryland, My Maryland" loses points because it is sung to the tune of "O, Tannenbaum." Even Paula Abdul would take issue with that lack of originality ... at least before complimenting Maryland’s competitive spirit and then losing her train of thought.

*** 

Fashion

Kentucky Derby

Grandstand: big expensive hats, sun dresses, seersucker suits, anything that smells like money. Infield: capris, cargo shorts, halter tops, T-shirts, breasts.

Preakness

Grandstand: silk flower hats, khakis, sports coats, button-downs. Infield: wifebeater T’s, monogrammed T’s, exposed breasts, bare feet, vomit-stained jean shorts.

Comment

Am I hallucinating, or did I really just see an undergrad take off her thong and use it to slingshot Jell-O shooters into some guy’s mouth?

Advantage

Derby.

*** 

Food and drink

Kentucky Derby

Bourbon balls, pecan pie, pudding, grits and biscuits, mint juleps.

Preakness

Crab cakes, crab soup, pit beef, Lady Baltimore cake, Natty Boh, black-eyed Susans.

Comment

The second-greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing rich people that Early Times was a good whiskey to use in mint juleps.

Advantage

Preakness. Natty Bohs and Berger cookies are the perfect Preakness breakfast, kids!

***

Infield

 Kentucky Derby

The scene of Hunter S. Thompson’s famous piece, "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved," it helped launch gonzo journalism. On the lame side, you can’t bring your own beer inside the gates.

Preakness

Sort of like Caligula’s Rome crossed with MTV’s Spring Break, but with less attractive people. More disgusting acts are committed per square foot during the Preakness than just about anywhere else in the country. About the only thing you cannot do is fight. Also, look out for beer grenades!

Comment

Two must-haves when attending the Preakness infield: sunscreen, penicillin.

Advantage

Preakness. Yeah, depravity!

***

Aesthetic

Advantage

Preakness.

***

Overall winner: Preakness  

The Kentucky Derby is like a cross between the circus and the opera for rich people, only with more drinking and less-tasteful nudity.

The Preakness is more like a working-class celebration, something out of a Damon Runyon short story. It’s the people’s horse racing event, and it’s as exciting as it is unpredictable.