I Met Al Leiter Today

[Valadius]

I came home today, as my last final was at 8:00 AM. I packed up and got to Union Station at around 3:30. I emerge from the Metro and I walk through Union Station with my bags when I notice a familiar face walking towards me. Who should it be than the one and only Alois Leiter, in the flesh.

He was with his daughter, a blonde of perhaps 10 or 11. They walked past me, but I turned around and said, "Al?" Al Leiter slowly turned around. I went up to him and said, "Hi Al, my name's Steve Lieberman, and I'm a very big fan. Nice to meet you." We shook hands and Al said, "Nice to meet you too." He then walked away, daughter in tow. He seemed quite nervous and shaken in person.

I wait for my train, the 4:00 Acela. As I walk out onto the platform, who should I see but again, Mr. Alois Leiter and his daughter, bags in tow. Two guys noticed him and one said, "Hey Al! Merry Christmas!" Al kind of grimaced and said, "Thanks." He then hurried off with his daughter onto a car far up on my train.

I don't know what Al was doing in Washington alone with his young daughter. They both had a considerable amount of luggage, though. Maybe they were checking out the Washington area, with Al taking his daughter to look at schools? Who knows. But one thing's for sure: I ran into Al Leiter.

[Willets Point]

Alois has a future in Washington.

[Guest OlerudOwned]

Sounds like a lot of fun for you, lucky.

Not so much for Al.

[Guest Edgy DC]

Al Leiter reportedly has a funky history running into college-aged strangers.

Leiter declined the Yankees arbitration offer yesterday. They still have until January 8th to sign him, but I'd've taken it.

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

Alois is much more amenable to the "Would you please sign this ball for my 9-year-old lefty who grew up emulating you?" approach.

[metirish]

Val are you Joe Lieberman's son?,you've hinted that your Dad knows more than a few heavy hitters, it makes perfect sence....

[Guest cooby]

Valadius wrote: . He seemed quite nervous and shaken in person.

He always seemed that way on TV, too, especially on the pitcher's mound.


Just busting your chops, Valadius, nice job!

[Guest Edgy DC]

According to his bio, Sen. Lieberman has four kids: Matthew, Rebecca, Ethan and Hana.

No Steves in the lot. Unless Val is an unofficial kid.

[Guest Johnny Dickshot]

Remember when that guy at mofo met Leiter at the gym? He spilled some news, tho I don't recall what it was.

[Guest Spacemans Bong]

Edgy DC wrote: According to his bio, Sen. Lieberman has four kids: Matthew, Rebecca, Ethan and Hana. No Steves in the lot. Unless Val is an unofficial kid.

That man whore.

[Valadius]

Nope, but now that my identity is out in the open, I guess my dad's is fair game too.

http://www.optionsclearing.com/press/board_members/bio_lieberman.jsp

[soupcan]

Johnny Dickshot wrote: Remember when that guy at mofo met Leiter at the gym? He spilled some news, tho I don't recall what it was.

cooby'll remember - If I recall correctly she knew the guy.

[Guest cooby]

Only in my nightmares

[soupcan]

Wasn't his name 'Chuck'?

What was the revelation he posted about Leiter?

[Guest KC]

I think Valad needs to start a stocks to watch thread under another handle.
We can all get rich and get Al a car service. I don't know if I'd be futsin' around
with luggage and a kid and Amtrack delays - and I'm poor. Way to be a regular
guy, Alois.

[Guest Bret Sabermetric]

"Nice to meet you." Nice to MEET you? When you could have said,

"Al, don't you realize that deliberately running up high pitch counts is an essentially give-up philosophy wherein you're conceding certain tangible advantages to the batter, primarily having the count in his favor a significant percentage of the time but also including giving the opposing teams much needed chances to accustomize themselves to the pitches you have available on a given day, and that the least of what you're conceding is that your team's bullpen will doomed to overwork whenever you pitch, and that you're far better to challenge the batters at least a sizeable minority of all the batters-facing-pitchers encounters? Huh, don't you?"

Nice to meet you, my ass.

[smg58]

And now we know why Al looked so nervous and uncomfortable...

[Elster88]

Bret Sabermetric wrote: "Al, don't you realize that deliberately running up high pitch counts is an essentially give-up philosophy wherein you're conceding certain tangible advantages to the batter, primarily having the count in his favor a significant percentage of the time but also including giving the opposing teams much needed chances to accustomize themselves to the pitches you have available on a given day, and that the least of what you're conceding is that your team's bullpen will doomed to overwork whenever you pitch, and that you're far better to challenge the batters at least a sizeable minority of all the batters-facing-pitchers encounters? Huh, don't you?" Nice to meet you, my ass.

I hate reruns.

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

I'm laughing to myself, picturing Bret meeting Al in person. Only because I recall a dinner at Bobby V's when many of us met Bobby, and Bret passed on his chance to tell the then current Mets manager everything that he thought of his managing style.

BTW, the memory of that lost opportunity helped prod me to mouth off at Steve Phillips when I had my shot at him last month

[Guest Bret Sabermetric]

I did, however, smoothly slip "homina, homina, homina" into the conversation.

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

Yes, that was quite smooth

[Guest Bret Sabermetric]

Besides, like Al Leiter, I took an essentially conservative approach to verbal jousting with Bobby V., who could convince you that the earth is a cube if give him a chance. I figured "The more HE talks, the more fun we can make of him afterwards, whereas the more I talk, the more fun everyone will make of me afterwards."

So why is it you're mocking me now for keeping my trap shut?

I'm writing this, btw, with a snapshot of me staring agog at BV that night hanging in plain sight.

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

Mocking? Nah - not mocking. Just ribbing you a little. Assuming that it's a "laughing with" rather than "laughing at" kind of thing.

[Guest Bret Sabermetric]

Just playing an over-sensitive dweeb on the Internet, is all,

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

I suspected as much.

[Vic Sage]

BV shot down my "don't you think we need a stronger top 3 for the rotation" with his denial that a front-loaded rotation has any kind of advantage over a deeper but less dominant rotation, even in the post-season.

He was wrong, of course, so he was either being purposely dense or just trying to support his current team. I didn't see any point in pursuing any other points with him that night.

I don't remember Bret being particularly tight-lipped, howwever.

[Guest Edgy DC]

Meet a Met!
Meet a Met!
At Union Station I met a Met
Hauling kiddies, hauling bags
He was shaken and his face kind of sags

I said "Merry Christmas!" and "I'm a big fan
He looked kind of nervous as I shook his hand
East Coast! Corrider!
Acela roaring into town
I rode with an M-E-T --- a Met!
A New York Met

When I have a Christmas greeting but a Jewish last name
Where do I go?
To meet a Met!
When he's acting inconspicuous like Valerie Plame
What do I do?
I meet a Met!
'Cuz i'm a fan of the orange and blue
Though he's walking with his head down
And he played for my fave ball club
And I'm meeting him out of town!
Give him a yell!
Give him a hand!
And if he's surly, break his Yankee left hand!

[Guest ScarletKnight41]

Nice Edgy. But I still prefer your multi-religion version of the song

[Valadius]

You know, I was working on a song on the train, but I couldn't get it the way I wanted. I'll come up with one soon, though.

[Valadius]

'Twas Six Days Before Christmas

'Twas six days before Christmas, and Hanukkah too,
And writing two papers had made me quite blue.
On Harriet Miers I'd written a lot -
Her brief nomination had all been for naught.

My days had been spent largely stuck in my bed,
As I, naive freshman, was in over my head.
I'd procrastinated till all hope seemed quite lost -
I studied so much that my brain did exhaust.

And then it was Monday, the date of my test,
And after I'd finished, I'd go home to rest.
At eight in the morning I had my exam -
In my mental ballgame, I hit a grand slam.

With a skip in my step, I returned to my room,
Having finished my quest to avert my own doom.
I opened my drawers and I looked through my things,
And packed up what one who is going home brings.

In, boxers! In, blue jeans! In, polos and t-shirts!
In, laptop! In, slippers! In, iPod and sweatshirts!
To the depths of my suitcase!
To the end of the hall!
Now roll away! Roll away!
Roll away, all!

I rolled my large suitcase, complete with a tag,
Past the bum, BOVA, in his sleeping bag.
I rolled down New Hampshire with all my supplies,
And passed a LaRouchite, mind twisted by lies.

I got on the Blue Line and then switched to Red,
"This is Union Station," the loudspeaker said.
I got off the Metro and entered the station,
As someone familiar approached my location.

He was wearing a tan leather jacket with jeans,
But that face I remembered from plenty of scenes.
His daughter was with him, a cute little blonde,
And it took me some time for my brain to respond.

"It is him! Al Leiter! How awesome!" thought I,
As Leiter and daughter walked up, then walked by.
I then turned around as he passed and said, "Al?"
Al Leiter then stopped and turned to face me, young Val.
He looked a bit nervous as I shook his right hand,
As if his day hadn't gone just as he'd planned.
"Hi, I'm Steve Lieberman. I'm a really big fan."
"Nice to meet you," I said. He seemed like a nice man.
"Nice to meet you," said Al, and he left with his daughter.
Al probably wished that he'd never have brought 'er.

Now I was excited. I thought, "This is cool!"
"I can't wait tell my friends at the Crane Pool!"
As I sat down to wait for my four o'clock train,
I thought it absurd that I'd see Al again.

The train began boarding at quarter to four,
And I was quite shocked when I saw Al once more.
He was helping his daughter, who'd fallen behind,
And as I walked closer I thought I'd lost my mind.

"Hey Al! Merry Christmas!" said some random guy,
And Al looked quite nervous as I passed him by.
And the last thing Al said was indeed quite polite:
"Merry Christmas to you!" Then he vanished from sight.