Media: Ripping Kevin Acee's guts out and lighting them on FIRE!

You've followed a link due to an inflammatory title and I would like to tell you that I have lied to you. And I'd like to apologize for my underhanded tactics. The Union Tribune, having minimized our free access and provided a scant 15 page clicks for free, has resorted to provocative titles in order to draw our attention. They too have lied. But they'll give no apology for it. Whereas, I have.

Now that I have reestablished my credibility I want to tell you that Kevin Acee's column this morning is worthy of the 2 clicks against your 15 click allotment -- plus the the month of June is about to conclude, so use 'em up people.

You see, Acee's column reads like a pissy rant from a blogger. This is a good thing. Blogger types call 'em like they see 'em. If it walks like a man who just propositioned a gold digging gynecologist whore then it must be -- well, John Moores. And that's what Acee just did.

Let us examine Kevin Acee's column . . .

The O’Malley family cares about baseball. It will be passionate about the team it owns. It will be involved. It won’t tolerate an empty stadium, which is largely the product of a bad product.

Valid point and reassuring, although the April-August Padres of 2010 takes umbrage with your last point. There was a winning product falling in the woods . . . but nobody there to hear it.

I hope I’m not being wistfully naive.

You are. You're not unlike a five year old girl caring for the Barbie doll that had its head torn off by an older brother who naively believes that the dolly will one day regain a proper neck swivel. It won't. That doll is done.

Admittedly, I see O’Malley ownership through the romantic prism of my youth. For one fantastic year that affirmed a lifelong love of baseball and showed me that the major leagues could be almost as friendly as Little League, I was a beat writer covering the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Are beat writers allowed to be wistfully naive or romantic if they aren't watching the pairing of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail?

Now, all that said about the O’Malley magic, what I really care about is where the O’Malley group is getting its money – and how much of it the consortium will have to invest in the on-field merchandise after being fleeced by John Moores.

Fleeced! Yes! More!!!!!

Look, the almost-completed purchase of the Padres could leave the O’Malleys on food stamps and their group’s ownership might still be an improvement over Moores’ fraudulent indifference.

Stop. You had me at fraudulent indifference. Time to start a website called John Moores' Fraudulent Indifference.

Moores remains a commendable philanthropist and shrewd businessman, but he only used to be a good team owner.

Used to be! Yes! More!!!!!

What he’s done lately is simply scam the people of San Diego.

John Moores: Scam artist! This is honestly awesome. I retract 3 of my derogatory Kevin Acee tweets during the month of June.

He made hundreds of millions off the Petco Park development, had to give away some big-time dough in a divorce, regained control of his team through some questionable turns of events and in the process ripped us off by not paying to field much more than a minor-league version of a major-league team.

Luis Durango and Walter Silva respectfully disagree but keep going. Tell us more.

On its own, the financially based decision to draft Matt Bush instead of one of the surefire All-Star pitchers in 2004 set the franchise back several years.

I am beginning to feel wistfully naive and romantic. I'm a blogger. It is something I'm permitted to do.

But Moores long ago lost interest in the team he once saved.

 Chasing tail will do that to you. What do you want? After redevelopment, the Gaslamp Quarter became a hoppin' place.

And, then, on his way out the door, he essentially takes the $200 million in advance payment from the Fox Sports television deal by including it in the cost of the team.

I hate John Moores!

But I digress.

Hey, Wayne's World references.

The Dodgers won six World Series under the ownership of Walter and Peter O’Malley but did not win a playoff game between their 1988 World Series triumph and the end of the O’Malley reign.

Blah, blah, blah, Dodgers.

All that is ancient history, however.

Thank God.

How ancient?

I don't know. You keep talking about it . . . so, not very?

Golf has made Mickelson awfully rich, and Fowler is extremely wealthy for a guy who sold beer. 

Beer? Tell us more.

We know neither how much money this group has after paying Moores’ high price nor how much they’re willing to spend.

The beer. What about the beer?

The answer to the latter question will determine whether we resume caring about the Padres and whether we continue to revere the O’Malleys.

I care about the Padres but I'm in the minority. I hope things change and that caring ownership is the catalyst. Or beer.

Nice work Mr. Acee. Moores needed to be dragged across the coals.

Padres and Pints: Green Flash Brewing with Craig Elsten

Last week we met-up Craig Elsten of XX1090 over at Green Flash Brewing for the latest installment of Padres and Pints.

 We talked about a wide array of topics including the deliciousness that is GREEN FLASH!!!

 Now this particular episode of Padres and Pints is nearly 40 minutes long but objectively speaking it's worth EVERY second of your time. Craig is insightful and witty. We are moronic and funny. It's a delightful marriage of sport, humor, and beer . . .


But if you haven't the time to watch the entire video here's the breakdown for each segment:

INTRO and Craig Elsten’s Move to XX1090

0:00-2:33

Tim Sullivan Discussion

2:33-6:13

Bringing the spirit of the 619 to XX1090

6:15-8:33

Tony Gwynn Criticism

8:34-11:49

F’ing Ownership Issues

11:52-17:00

Carlos Quentin and his oft-injured forefathers, Phil Nevin and Ryan Klesko

17:05- 24:15

Damn Park Effects

24:19-28:42

Green Flash Brewing: Tasting Room Manager Dave Adams breaks it down for Padres and Pints

28:43-32:12

Rapid Fire!!!!

32:14-35:40

Sisterhood of the Traveling Jersey/ Kevin Elster Jersey Outtake

35:57-39:21

Choose your interest and jump in. Then go back and watch the WHOLE thing! Go forth and watch Episode 4 of Padres and Pints.

As always, thanks for supporting.

Finding Stray Quarters. And Pitchers

Yesterday I found stray quarters beneath the seat cushion in my vehicle. There were three quarters, and they were together. By together I mean they were side by side, shiny, staring at me, edges touching as if preordained. This is an uncommon find but an important one nonetheless, good reader!

You see, as I found these three quarters, I felt like the Padres. More precisely I felt like Padres General Manager/Philosopher, Josh Byrnes. I now had a better handle on what it means to be a Big Believer In Belief.

Having difficulty understanding the significance of this event*? Let me explain.

*Yes I just referred to finding three quarters as an "event".


I don't believe in paying for parking downtown. Others feel similarly. In fact it's probably the biggest complaint* Padres fans have regarding a trip downtown for a game. Because I'm loathe to pay for parking I do my best to minimize this cost. This is possible to do. All it takes is the right parking meter and a few quarters. What do I mean by the right meter? There are meters downtown that allow you to park for up to 9 hours and it only costs 0.50 cents/hour. So if a game starts at 7:05 and you're intent on arriving early (meters must be plugged until 6pm) so you can get yourself to Lolita's before the line goes nuts then you can likely park for less than a buck. You see what I'm saying? Quarters are like gold in this situation.

*Aside from the regular complaints about the fences, uniforms, run suppressing atmospheric conditions, constant strikeouts, poor defense, Bud Black's peculiar line-ups, belligerent ushers who despise cheering fans who stand, inability to lock up players long term, and the absence of Gulden's brown mustard at concession stands.

Quarters are like gold. Except they're not. They're important in the context I've just explained but I still only found 0.75 cents. With inflation, I can hardly purchase a can of soda-pop with that much money. Those quarters have value but when all is told, they won't get me too far down the road of life. Those quarters are a symbol, though. Those quarters are like the arms Josh Byrnes continues to acquire in an effort to stem the endless stream of pitchers headed to the disabled list in 2012.

While I basked in the thrill of finding three quarters Josh Byrnes one-upped me by scouring the earth and finding four: Jeff Supan, Jason Marquis, Ross Ohlendorf, Kipp Wells. 

Yes, these guys are the quarters beneath my seat. These individuals are the discolored little quarters that, due to melting kid snacks, have become caked in a syrupy residue, consequently absorbing all stray hairs and synthetic fibers found in the bowels of my car. I intend no disrespect to these gentlemen as human beings nor do I wish to offend the utility of the quarter.

Signed as a free agent in February, 37 year-old Jeff Supan went 2-3 with a 5.28 ERA before being given his walking papers in early June. Jeff Supan was an old quarter, found resting idly in some California  restaurant. He's not even one of those new, cool, quarters representing a state. Jeff Supan was just an old worn down quarter from 1975, now likely taken out of circulation forever.

An old 1978 quarter in the form of 33 year-old Jason Marquis and his mustache rolled into town from Minnesota on May 29th. As a Padre, Marquis carries an unimpressive 1-3 record, but a spectacular 2.05 ERA. Perhaps he's more like the cool 2001 New York quarter emblazoned with that famous gift from the French, the Statue of Liberty? With a surname like Marquis it's clear that he too was a gift from the French. Jason Marquis is liberty personified!

Ross Ohlendorf is a youngster at 29 years of age. He's like the bright beacon of hope that is the star etched on the 2004 Texas State quarter. Ross Ohlendorf is 1-0. Ross Ohlendorf has struck out 12 batters in 13.2 innings. Ross Ohlendorf's name isn't even Ross. It's Curtis. With the complete absence of caked debris so often found on stray quarters, Curtis Ross Ohlendorf is a shiny piece of prosperity!

The most recent quarter found by Josh Byrnes, goes by the name of Kip Wells, formerly of the Chicago White Sox*. The former 1st round draft pick out of Texas is similar to that quarter known as Curtis Ohlendorf -- but without the star. Wells is older than dirt and that star has worn away. Last night against the Houston Astros, Wells took the loss while surrendering 5 runs, only 2 of which were earned. But when you throw 5 innings, giving up 7 hits and 3 walks the odds are never in your favor.

*The city of San Diego acknowledged this kindness from Chicago by granting exclusive negotiating rights to former North County Times beat writer, Dan Hayes. 

What does all of this mean? 'Tis difficult to surmise. The only thing I can be certain of is that the next time I go downtown, my parking is paid for . . . and the odds are good that Josh Byrnes will be showing off some new (old) quarter he came upon.

Darrel Akerfelds and Western meditations on death

While at Spring Training a couple of years ago, Dan Hayes, formerly of the North County Times, made a comment about Padres pitching coach Darren Balsley. The comment in question suggested a real appreciation for  "Balls" as a baseball mind but also who he was as a man.

When news broke that bullpen coach Darrel Akerfelds had finally succumbed to the pancreatic cancer that he had been diagnosed with in 2010, I began to contemplate the nature of death.

I also wondered what Dan would think.


Having left San Diego last week to begin his new job covering the White Sox I thought Dan would likely have an insightful comment on "Ak" but would be without the forum in a Chicago news outlet to say it. I offered Dan space at AJM to write something if he wished and he responded with the following quotes:

"Ak was a great man. I wish I knew him as well as his teammates did. He was just a guy who loved his job and didn't want the limelight."

"What I do know is the man took on his battle with more courage and bravery than most. He always believed, with us, he would make it."

"Jake Peavy put it best: 'I think the way he handled his situation is inspirational'. I'm saddened by the loss but proud to have known Ak."

Many who commented on the loss of Darrel Akerfelds yesterday, offered that he was a great man. I used the word 'courage' when I first learned of his death. And I couldn't agree more with Jake Peavy in his description of Ak as 'inspirational'.

Darrel Akerfelds was inspirational. After being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer he managed his chemotherapy around the 2011 season so as to miss as few games as possible. While battling his cancer he still coached in 148 of the Padres games last year, an amazing commentary on his mental and physical toughness, but also his commitment to the ideals of team.

I saw Darrel Akerfelds at Spring Training in late March of this year. Once a large man, he had been reduced considerably by his physical battle. He looked like a boy in his uniform as he transitioned from batting cage to dugout. We all shook our heads in disbelief as we watched his slow, deliberate movements. I couldn't bring myself to take a photograph of him. That Darrel Akerfelds had even made it to Spring Training in such a weakened state said so much about him as a person.

I've always had a keen interest in Buddhism and other Far Eastern philosophies. The basic tenets of Buddhism always resonate most when I think of death: Life is impermanent; life is suffering; seek to eliminate suffering by reducing attachment.

If we were able to accept impermanence, the transient nature of all life, it would be so much easier to let go when someone passes away. I would make a terrible Buddhist because I often find it so difficult to let go, to greedily want more time with those people around us. This is my Western mind. My Eastern mind understands what to do in the case of death but that Western hemisphere has a powerful hold.

My uncle passed away a little over two years ago now. It's difficult to keep the timeline straight because there never was a funeral. He was a great man. I knew of his greatness when I was 15 years old. He had married my father's sister so we were not related by blood but I always felt like he cared about me more than anyone. Everyone felt that way about him. It's what made him great. My aunt didn't handle his death well. We waited and waited on word for the funeral arrangements but that word never came. My aunt couldn't handle the impermanence of my uncle's existence. I don't fault her - who would want to let go of such greatness?

I have daughters now. I think of my mortality often but not out of my own fear of impermanence. I fear not being there for my children as they grow, as they navigate their way through life and require the guidance of a father. Those are difficult thoughts, Western thoughts that can be crippling.

We will all die, this cannot be controlled. We can control our approach to life, though. We can control how we treat those around us. We can also reveal ourselves when faced with adversity. Darrel Akerfelds has shown us this over the last two years.

If we focus on living well, perhaps when our time comes, friends and family will accept the temporary nature of who we were. I suppose that it is my Far Eastern dream -- that there will be acceptance and that maybe I will have done enough to be described in the same way I thought of my uncle.

Here's to the hope that the family of Darrel Akerfelds finds solace in the revelation that so many people close to him thought of greatness first.

I want to thank Dan Hayes for taking the time to give a few comments about a Darrel Akerfelds.

Cuckoo For Nick Canepa: Hoyt Wilhelm and Knuckleballs

After my initial Cuckoo For Nick Canepa post, written yesterday, the UT promptly released news that the company would begin charging customers for their on-line content produced each day. I don't know that the UT is worth a dime of my money so we'll see how this series progresses.

A couple of weeks ago Nick Canepa wrote an article about the horrible television contract with Fox and the complete lack of progress being made with Time Warner Cable to distribute Padres games to a large segment of San Diego. Definitely a topic worthy of coverage by Nick Canepa.

While the column was timely, I did take umbrage (and I was not the only one) with the following analogy by Canepa:

And things are moving along about as swiftly as a Hoyt Wilhelm knuckle ball, but with very little movement.

There is nothing swift about the speed of a knuckleball in its path to homeplate. It be slow, indeed. Nick Canepa is trying to let his readers know that the contract negotiations are moving slow and he uses something a baseball fan can relate to: The slow moving knuckleball. I get it.

Since when, though, is there a scenario where a knuckleball has "very little movement"? 

Knuckleballs move ALL over the place. They move so much that catchers can't even catch them. They move SO much that the otherwise completely useless Doug Mirabelli found gainful employment because he was the only one who could catch a Tim Wakefield knuckler. Do you even comprehend what I just said? Doug "FREAKING" Mirabelli!

Doug Mirabelli was horrible at the game of baseball but he possessed perhaps one of the rarest skill-sets in Major League Baseball: He could catch the knuckleball. Truth be told I'm pretty sure he sucked at it too, only he sucked less than every other catcher holding down a job in the league. So even the best knuckleball catcher in MLB sucked. Why? Because the knuckleball MOVES!

Let's say you don't believe me about the movement of the knuckleball. Would you believe Hall of Famer, Willie Stargell? And I quoth:

”Throwing a knuckleball for a strike is like throwing a butterfly with hiccups across the street into your neighbor’s mailbox.”

Poetic, no? Why would Pops describe the ability to throw a knuckleball for a strike in such a way? Because it moves. It moves a lot. Knuckleballs move. It is, quite simply, what they do.

We've established that a knuckleball has movement, and as such, using it to describe something that is not moving at all (TV contract discussions) demonstrates an exercise in poor judgement by the writer. But what of the reference to Hoyt Wilhelm?

Hoyt Wilhelm was a knuckleballer during the 1950s. And 60s. And early 1970s. He pitched forever and he did it so well he made it into baseball's Hall of Fame. Its what knuckleballers do. They throw FOREVER.

Wilhelm was special though. He won games starting AND closing*. He was kind of like an early Dennis Eckersley except he didn't throw sidearm and his hair wasn't perfectly feathered. He threw a knuckleball. Which moved a lot. If you call yourself a baseball fan, you should know the name and exploits of Hoyt Wilhelm. I have a 1958 Topps baseball card of Hoyt Wilhelm. I KNOW ABOUT HOYT WILHELM.

How about a more contemporary example of a knuckleballer, though? I get that Wilhelm is the hallmark for those who throw the pitch but maybe an R.A. Dickey analogy might resonate with readers.

At the time Canepa's column was written Dickey was coming off a complete game 1-hitter in which he struck out 12 batters. Using Dickey would have made Nick Canepa look like a genius. You know why? Dickey followed that performance-up with another 1-hitter and struck out 13 batters in that one!

R.A. Dickey is also old. He's 11-1. And old. He's 37. But he's 11-1!

R.A. Dickey also just had a biography released earlier this year. He's kind of had an interesting life. R.A. Dickey also climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro during the off-season. If Nick had used Dickey instead of Wilhelm he could have wrote:

 "Things are moving as swiftly as an R.A. Dickey knuckleball dancing at altitude in equatorial Africa, but with little movement."

Canepa could have even mixed in an allusion to Ernest Hemingway had he used Dickey! Ah hell, what do I know**.

*He also didn't do any of that "1 inning" save crap that is so prevalent today. Hoyt Wilhelm worked.
** I know that I wrote this pretty swiftly on account of it being old news and me having to rush Mrs. AJM to the airport. Sorry if it reads like something Nick Canepa mailed-in.

[EDITED 8:43 am in an attempt to give the appearance that I did not completely "mail it in".]

Cuckoo For Nick Canepa

When I was a kid I would sit down at the table for breakfast with the San Diego Union Tribune in front of me and a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. I would read the sports page cover to cover. The Sports section of the UT was thicker during that time of my life, more to read.

With no CNBC in the old days, adults often read the business section of the daily paper to see how the NYSE performed, feverishly charting their personal portfolios. Baseball box scores were my stock index. As a baseball card collector this was my form of investment tracking. I was going to be rich one day courtesy of my little cardboard gods. Rich from cardboard, huh? I'm moving in two weeks and those cards are moving with me. What a burden those boxes have become.

In addition to the box scores, I also read all of the sports columnists. San Diego Union columnist and editor, Jack Murphy, had passed away years before I moved to San Diego but I read all of the columnists who worked in the path he had blazed. This included Nick Canepa who, incidentally, has been around forever. Nick Canepa is a goddamn institution in this town.

As a kid, I didn't really have opinions of Nick Canepa or the other columnists as writers. I just read and continued to eat the Cocoa Puffs, gradually carving deeper and deeper into the box.

By the time my brother would come down for breakfast the box of Cocoa Puffs or Fruity Pebbles, or whatever other cereal graced our cupboard would be nearly gone. And the brother would be pissed. But I was bigger than him so I paid little mind to his plaintiff wails. With the sports section finished, I started my day.

Older now, I use coffee for breakfast.

I drink coffee, sifting through San Diego's poor excuse for a sports section, and I develop my own opinions on those columnists who proffer their opinions. I don't like Nick Canepa's writing. There's a lot about it I don't like. Sometimes Canepa writes an entire column that is so bad it warrants a complete dissection. Fortunately he doesn't always do this because I simply don't have the time in my schedule to be the UT's watchdog.

For the uninitiated, there is always one guarantee with a Nick Canepa column: It will include at least one pop culture reference that nobody below the age of 40 will understand or a reference that could have been updated to reflect some sort of continuous improvement as a writer. 

I appreciate history as much as anybody but there's something to be said for a writer who can stay up to date with both pop and sports culture. Not everything has to be about how, "Things were better in my day!"

Evolve, that's all I ask.

Nick Canepa doesn't believe in evolution. As is the case, I will regularly take Nick Canepa to task for his crappy writing in a series called . . . Cuckoo for Nick Canepa*!

* Points of clarification: I was Cuckoo, or enthusiastic, for Cocoa Puffs. So I ate the whole box. Nick Canepa's writing drives me cuckoo, or insane. Therefore I will write about the insanity. Just so we're clear about the whole Cocoa Puffs analogy.

Padres and Pints: Beerfest 2012

The most recent Padres and Pints segment was filmed at the 2012 Beerfest on June 1st.

Rick of RJ's Fro and the Dancing Friar as recorded by AJM

The event took place prior to the game against Arizona which the Padres won in convincing fashion. . . ahem . . . or so I'm told.

Rick (of RJ's Fro) recently purchased a new camera and microphone so the video turned out great as we reeled in as many fans on the street as possible. Enjoy the most recent Padres and Pints . . . and do so responsibly.

Forgetting birthdays and turning three

From time to time I work with young people in my non-AJM life. It is part of the curiosity of youth, let's call it "make-up", to want to know my age. So they guess and they guess. And they guess some more. I admonish them when I determine that they have guessed far too high and I smile profusely and offer them thanks when they come in at the low end. Ultimately, I never tell them my age. It is not information that they need.

As the youngsters offer their educated guesses I often pause and silently ask of myself, "How old are you?"


 
I'm at that age now where I don't really think about age so when people ask it generally takes a couple of seconds for me to gather myself. And then I guess the age I'm about to turn. When I self correct and realize I'm younger I get really happy. It's all very weird

Mrs AJM asks, "What do you want to do for your birthday?" 

I reply, "When is it?"

I don't know if you're like this, only that I am. This amusing anecdote is my way of conveying to you, good reader, that I have forgotten that Avenging Jack Murphy recently celebrated a birthday, turning three years old on June 6th.

I had blogged under the name "Hate the Patriots" for about 10 months prior to the name change. I began blogging about the Chargers, hating the Patriots, Voodoo dolls, Jessica Alba, and pretty much anything else in the sports world. Those were things that people read. Now I blog entirely about the Padres, which people don't really read. My choices . . . all very weird.

Since I only blog about the Padres I'm in a bit of a quandary. You see, I live in a Time Warner Cable zone, and Direct TV is also unavailable. Since I can't watch the Padres with regularity I find it difficult to write about the Padres with regularity. I blame Time Warner. And John Moores.

For those of you who stop by religiously, thanks. I'll try and do a better job of giving you something to read.

As I offer a belated birthday to myself I also want to apologize to the brave men who stormed the beaches at Normandy during Operation Overlord. I did not intentionally choose the anniversary of your heroic act to be the launch date for this debacle of a weblog.

Historians have offered that D-Day was arguably the most important day of the 20th century. I hope I have not sullied your accomplishments by borrowing your date in history to commemorate Avenging Jack Murphy . . . which certainly must rank as one of the least important day of the 21st century.

Happy reads, brothers and sister.