G-Fafif

Right hamstring ouchie pulls Murph from game in Jupiter. Perhaps it was a gravity issue.

In the midst of the Hodges book. Whitey Lockman is "Lochman"; the Gowanus is "Gowanes"; and, most egregiously for those of us of a certain geography, Rockville Centre is "Rockville Center". That's not reflective of the Gil content, just discouraging.

batmagadanleadoff wrote: That would be excellent information to have. More than a good catch -- one a roomful of people paid to read things closely missed. Looks like you cleared up that snafu. http://www.faithandfearinflushing.com/2015/03/01/meet-the-mets-authors/ This thread reminded me that sort of thing can be important.

Papi Valdy! [youtube:2yys32km]WjjibOBQzcI[/youtube:2yys32km]

I'm hoping they're replacing the LET'S GO METS sign with a LET'S GO METS! sign. I never understood the lack of exclamation.

HahnSolo wrote: That's a track the buggies are parked on, right? I might lean LA Coliseum. That is indeed a telling detail. Plus w/o an Alouettes helmet and a time machine, we'd have to eliminate the Big O.

Em-dashes in URL make above link a little screwy. Google Charley Pride Brewers for full article.

I thought I recalled his proto-Garth Brooks shtick with the Brewers. Apparently it did occur. http://www.dmagazine.com/publications/d-magazine/2008/june/charley-pride-turns-70-and-�-galdurnit-�-hes-still-got-something?single=1 I know all this because I�m a fan. My parents introduced me to his music when I was a kid. I also know Pride�s accomplishments because I�m standing next to him on a practice field at the Texas Rangers� spring training facility in Surprise, Arizona, and Pride, outfitted in a full Rangers uniform, is telling it to me�again. He gave me the same speech two weeks ago on the phone, while he was at the airport waiting to board a flight to Ireland. At this point in his life, Pride is his own biographer, telling his story because no one else will. But on this glorious February morning, he�s just a ballplayer, same as he was when he left the cotton fields of Sledge, Mississippi, as a teenager, bound for the Negro Leagues and later, he imagined, history. It didn�t work out that way. The pitcher and switch-hitting outfielder made it as far as spring training with the expansion Los Angeles Angels in 1961. "But at least I got there," he says. "I didn�t stay, but galdurnit, I had something." These days, he contents himself with yearly stops at spring training. Pride began doing this in the early 1970s with the Milwaukee Brewers, on the recommendation of singer Roy Clark, who used to train with the Baltimore Orioles. A couple of years later, the Rangers invited him to start working out with their squad instead, and three decades later, he still makes the trip every February. This is his vacation, but he says, "I work my can off." He�ll spend the next week or two mostly on his own, then a couple of weeks mixing it up with the team. For a long time, Pride could have passed for a player. Now, though he�s tall and fit, albeit a bit thicker in the middle than he used to be, someone�s more likely to mistake him for manager Ron Washington. And in Surprise, the players are still respectful to a fault, but his presence isn�t as big of a deal as it once was. A couple of the black players have gravitated to Pride, trading shoulder bumps with him to and from the clubhouse. Kevin Mench stops to talk to him, but he�s been around forever. Michael Young, the dutiful face of the franchise, slows down for a moment to ask Pride about his morning workout. That�s about it. Pride is older than most of their fathers. He�s older than many of their grandfathers.

Still looks like the Murph to me. Perhaps they assembled in San Diego and charged up I-5 to the Coliseum. Or maybe it was just some preseason photo shoot.

Down goes Morris! To the minors.

Pride would set aside his regrets about his missed chance to play for the new California club with the release a decade later of his biggest hit, "Kiss An Angel Good Morning," implicitly dedicated to Leroy Stanton, an American playing the American game. But I am having a hard time believing Casey Stengel took time out from his busy schedule of inventing the Mets to pass that much judgment on Charley's fitting-in proclivities.

Longtime courtwatchers consider him the swing vote that could determine the fate of the Affordable Care Act... Oh, sorry. It only seems like Carlos Torres has a lifetime appointment to the middle relief role. I predict he will be fair and judicious.

Are Darling and Ojeda barefoot? And does that make the bike go faster? This, I believe, was the same spring the Mets starters decided to wear numbers in the 10s, until Sid backed out.

I'm totally buying what you're saying about the Eagles vs. Cardinals because a) yes, of course, those wings were rather garish; and the football Cardinals seem like the kind of team they'd forget to put together a helmet buggy for.

Not sure if I still have my NFL mini-helmet collection, thoughtfully garnered mostly from a South Florida IHOP by my parents in advance of my ninth birthday. At that juncture, when I became familiar with what every pre-concussed player protected his head with, Oilers wore silver, Redskins were still yella and I had no idea that a bronco was a horse, so it took me a while to match that logo to that team. I also didn't know the Patriot was a patriot, per se. I thought he was some kind of cowboy at first glance, though not a Dallas Cowboy. Or would Bill Price say those who grew up in the early '70s enjoying this sort of thing probably don't have too many wonderful memories of it?

Now that two of us have asked about it in the past 30 years, they will realize the pent-up demand and get them on the shelf pronto!

Also, am I mistaking the Oilers helmet for the Broncos?

That white one with the space for a stripe where there isn't a stripe has me flummoxed. Also, the one toward the back that I'm believing to be the Browns -- is that the Niners, except with the color not reproducing correctly?

batmagadanleadoff wrote: The photo could also have been taken at a Super Bowl. If so, Rice Stadium and Tulane Stadium are possibilities. Ladies and gentlemen, for your halftime entertainment, please direct your attention to the sidelines, for the most wondrous if slightly incomplete assemblage of football helmet buggies, some with visible drivers! They will be accompanied by the trumpet stylings of Al Hirt as they roll onto the field of play and into your hearts...

Seeing, NFC edition... NFC East: Giants, Redskins, Cowboys, Cardinals (assuming the Eagles were still in white helmets) NFC Central: Lions, Packers, Vikings, Bears NFC West: Rams, Saints Not necessarily seeing, NFC edition... Eagles (or, perhaps, Cardinals, pending whether the Eagles were green by then) 49ers Falcons Seeing, AFC edition... AFC East: Jets, Dolphins, Colts, Bills, Patriots AFC Central: Bengals, Steelers, Browns AFC West: Raiders, Chiefs, Broncos, Chargers Not necessarily seeing, AFC edition... Oilers

Where did gathering of helmets convene? My first guess is the Murph, when it was still San Diego Stadium. But maybe wherever in Hawaii they have the Pro Bowl? Though I think the Pro Bowl wasn't yet a Hawaiian entity when the white Rams horn was still in effect.

batmagadanleadoff wrote: Edgy MD wrote: If you're at loose ends, but really want to bring something to the table, get us some new posters before the season starts. God knows I'm not bringing them in. Okay. Here's a poster. I'd normally post it in the Butterball thread but I'm not entirely sure whether the photo was shot in front of the Butterball Batting Eye or at the Payson Complex. Still, those are some mean dudes. Hide the women and children. [fimg=666]https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7588/16856706792_302e94f998_o.jpg[/fimg] I looked for this poster at Gerry Cosby's. They didn't have it.

If Michael Moraitis is the competition, Bill Price sweeps the Pulitzers.

batmagadanleadoff wrote: The topic is aqua green walls. Colors. Shades. Fences. Uh...1967. Shea. Early in the season. Colors. Lighter than usual. Not blue. Oh boy...Seaver...Goossen...

What gets me about that Price lede is whatever drove him to a life covering sports probably sprouted in those days when allegedly there weren't too many wonderful memories. That's when you're getting your most unshakable wonderful memories. The standard's being set. If he wants to assert it wasn't as good later or that the Mets sucking on and off the field diminished his ardor or that a piece of Shea concrete crumbled into his lap one Saturday afternoon and it left him wondering for a while what the hell's so great about this place (that happened to me in 1999), fine. But it's just lazy and intellectually dishonest -- unless that's really his story -- to say "it sucked to be a kid at the ballpark, but the bullpen cart was kinda cool." Hackish approach. Transcend frigging mediocrity.