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Ogden Nash, Sport Magazine
In the 1930’s, Jimmie Foxx socked more homers than any other player. A fearsome power hitter whose strength earned him the moniker “The Beast”, Jimmie Foxx was the anchor of an intimidating Philadelphia Athletics lineup that produced pennant winners from 1929-31. The second batter in history to top 500 home runs, Foxx belted 30 or more homers in 12 consecutive seasons and drove in more than 100 runs 13 consecutive years, including a career-best 175 with Boston in 1938. He won back-to-back MVP Awards in 1932 and ’33, capturing the Triple Crown in the latter year. Called “the right-handed Babe Ruth.” Foxx became a baseball legend because of his enormous strength. In Comiskey Park, he hit a ball over the double-decked stands, clearing 34th Street. His gigantic clout in Cleveland won the 1935 all-star Game. In Yankee Stadium, he hit one into the left field upper deck where it broke a seat! A strong, powerful hitter, he was menacing looking at the plate.
He had great powerful arms, and he used to wear his sleeves cut off way up, and when he dug in and raised that bat, his muscles would bulge and ripple.
After years in Philadelphia playing under the penurious Connie Mack, he finally started making good when he was traded to Boston. Tom Yawkey, who always paid his players well, even gave Foxx a share in gate receipts. Universally liked, almost everyone loved him, from Lou Gehrig and Babe Ruth to Ted Williams. (Ted Williams even claimed that Jimmie could drink 15 glasses of scotch whisky and not be affected) He always went out of the way to befriend new teammates and rookies.
In July of 1967, after years of bad investments and ill health, Foxx died on the way to the hospital after he choked on a piece of meat in the backyard of his brother. By that time, he was a beaten and broken man, and those close to him felt that Jimmie had finally just given up, and did not have the will to live anymore. It was a very sad ending to a simply great guy.
I drag my Dodgers loving girlfriend down to Anaheim once a year to see the A’s play the Angels because, well, the A’s are the greatest team on the planet, so fuck you. We do our usual pre- game routine of buying bottled water, sunflower seeds and other assorted bric-a-brac and then we’re off on the 45 minute drive south of Los Angeles to a place known as Anaheim. I’m not going to get into it here about my feelings on the O.C. (we get into that later) but let’s just say I think it’s homogenized crap.
We get to the stadium rather uneventfully and I say to the gfriend, “hmmm…the parking is much easier here than at Dodger stadium.”
“That’s because it’s in the middle of a city, this is a suburb!” she shoots back. Fair enough.
It’s 80 degrees outside. A perfect California night, and I’m feeling good as we begin to take the escalators to our upper deck seats. Now, there is a back story here. (Although readers Scott, Katrina, and Don “the cheese” will make fun of me unmercifully for this one.) I almost ALWAYS buy the cheap seats, wait the unwritten baseball rule of 3 innings, and then move to a better seat of my mood and choosing. (this has worked in Seattle, Oakland and San Diego) So I do this, buying 5 dollar seats off of some cynical asshole on stub hub and then pat myself on the head for a job well done. Dear readers, for future reference….THIS DOES NOT WORK IN ANAHEIM OR LOS ANGELES. These stadiums are not as “fan friendly” when it comes to common sense. Ahem. So my plan failed. Fuck you.
The game starts and the A’s scratch across 2 runs in the 2nd, and then a Howie Kendrick jack in the bottom half of the inning makes it 2-1. Ok, we got a ballgame.
gfriend: (who is proud of her Salvadorian heritage, mind you.)
” The vibe is different here, and the crowd is so…..white. All this red reminds me of Republicanism.”
No doubt, sweetheart. I hate the Angels and John McCain too.
Top of the 3rd: Jed Lowrie golfs a three run tater off Garrett Richards that barely clears the out of town scoreboard in left center for a 5-1 lead. I notice then that the Red Sox aren’t playing tonight. Tommy Milone does his best job of fucking it up in the bottom half, giving up a bases drunk double to Howie Kendrick to cut the lead to 5-4. I’m upset and even say a few un-choice words about Tommy boy under my breath, but I want to seem cool in the enemies ballpark, so I let it go. A few innings go by, and we make fun of everyone around us who seem to be checking Facebook on their phones.
Top 7th: “Boss” Moss hits one of the HIGHEST jacks I have ever seen into the Angels right field “shit dump,”
(I have no idea what it is…but it looks ghastly) to make it 7-4. I don’t know about you, but to me, this guy will be long remembered as one of my favorite Oakland A’s. Raw power and passion with a fucking red George Michael beard = bad ass mother fucker. The A’s bullpen effectively holds the Halos down, and they scratch together a few more runs to make it 10-5 as the Angels fans leave en masse to our delight (parking issues,dog!) Grant “gives me a fucking heart attack or puts me to sleep” Balfour comes in, walks a couple of guys, throws a shit load of pitches (his innings always seem as long as the first 8) and finally ends the game by striking out Hank Conger. There was a strange feeling that Angels fans had conceded. Even the victory was sort of bitter-sweet as I couldn’t wait for the playoffs, ergo the passion to start. We pass the strip club down the street and listen to oldies the rest of the way as the gfriend asks me about who I think the Dodgers will play in the playoffs.
sidenotes: Angel dogs are infinitely better than the Dodger dog. I will fight you if you disagree.
Tommy Milone has 12 wins. I can’t remember a pitcher who had so many wins and received so much criticism because he had “lost it” so quickly. The baseball gods are a fucking trip, man.
Howie Kendrick with a jack and 4 RBI’s. Always thought that dude was solid.
Josh Reddick has 55 RBI’s in a year that was a DISASTER with injuries. He’s going to be a special player when he gets right.
Daric Barton hasn’t been Mr. “look at a bazillion pitches” lately and he’s a better hitter for it.
A.J. Griffin was supposed to start this game. I was disappointed when he didn’t.
Two words: NO YO. bummer.
When the Rally Monkey crap started on the scoreboard, 2 Angels fans behind me said, “yeah, we’ll start our rally….in spring training next year!” Hilarious.
Mike Trout K’d 3 times. I’m lovin’ it.
Shyra: we met when I was 16 and we were the “firsts” for everything. She was compassionate, and loved my artwork, writing, and irrational love for baseball. I would drag her to all sorts of games ( from minor league to sub minor league) and she was patient, even asking a lot of “girlfriend questions” in order to boost my ego, yet she never officially had a team. She did, however, buy tickets to games and I felt like she enjoyed them. favorite team: none
Summer: dumb fucking name aside, this girl was absolutely brutal with attitude. I did ecstacy for the first time with her and some semi-famous D.J. asshole that I refuse to name here. She lived in Oakland and thought she was cool with her retro clothes and “diagonal haircuts”, but was a music nerd who had absolutely ZERO interest in the game. I remember watching Tim Hudson when he was a young buck in her room while her gay room-mate (who was going to Cal-Berkeley and absolutely HATED me) would make strange noises in the room next door. favorite team: none
Alisa: A sweet ginger. We went to a lot of AAA games together (Rivercats). She learned how to score a game, (which she enjoyed) yet never took a big league team under her wing. She had favorite players and we even named our cat after the announcer of the ‘Cats at the time. (Bip Roberts) favorite team: Sacramento Rivercats
Lindsay: She has to take the cake as the WEIRDEST girl I have ever dated. She was petite, artsy, a clothing designer, and a stripper. She also had a crazy Russian coke-dealer stalker who would confront me on occasion before I eventually got fed up and kicked his ass in front of a club and then kicked her ass to the curb. We went to a minor league game once and didn’t show up until the 3rd because she was too spacey too get her shit together. All in all we watched 6 innings in about 2 hours and she said it was “perfect.” favorite team: none….with a bang!
Oki: sweet, asian girl who had absolutely no interest in the game. She was a D.J.who had interests in painting and music and had a lot of knowledge in that area, yet I would sneak in games when I had the chance. favorite team: none
Tanya: The absolute love of my life and future wife! She grew up in Los Angeles and learned to love the Dodgers at a young age. I knew she was the COOLEST girl I had ever met on our 2nd date…and I was right! She woke me up the other night cheering because of the fact that Scott Van Slyke had just hit a game winner to left for the Dodgers in late night extra innings, and it reminded me why I was in love. I have been to some of the greatest concerts I have ever seen with this woman and she even took me to Anaheim to see the A’s and Angels. “This park sucks,” she said. OH…MY…GOD! favorite team: Los Angeles Dodgers