A 'lil HooHaa

Messing with the blogging world since 2005

Baseball

My pitch to manage the Phillies (if they hadn’t hired Girardi!)

(Note: The Philadelphia Phillies hired Joe Girardi to be their next manager. I’m quite stoked about this and hope it’s what the Phillies need. Too much talent to just be 81-81. That being said, I had drafted this up … you know, in case they still needed a manager. So, this is my pitch from all my years of managing adult softball to come out of “retirement” and be the manager of the Phillies!)

Dear Mr. Klentak,

Coming out of my managerial retirement wasn’t something I had planned on contemplating, but as they say – when opportunity knocks, answer the door!

While I am sure you are seeking somebody with big league experience for the next manager of the Philadelphia Phillies, I still felt it necessary for a life-long Phillies fan to see about the possibility, especially somebody with the managing pedigree that I bring.

What I bring is a championship background and would love to bring that to the dugout of the Philadelphia Phillies. For nearly 30 years, I built and managed an adult softball team in my area that went on to do well not only here, but at the state and national level. Success took a little time (hey, it’s not easy starting with a “rebuild” and having to recruit players right away!) but once we reached the highest level, we stayed there.

Me with the Phanatic a few years ago.

You could say was somewhat of a GM/manager/player (probably why if I can ever afford the Phillies Phantasy Camp, I’ll want to do so with the GM part), and I feel that experience could lead to a successful run as skipper of the Phillies.

Over the 28 years I managed, we had a constant flow of players and personalities. It’s not easy to juggle all of that, especially if they are coming straight from work or had a cold one in them. We played modified pitch, which is as close to baseball as it comes – and we lived on small ball. We had some power, and good pitching. And we were usually pretty solid in the field (not if I was out there – hitting was my prowess. Fielding, not so much).

And, of course, we had some egos and tempers and everything else. I feel I handled it all well. And I know pitching is something of a sore spot to people, as well. But I have to be honest – I manage pitching with git instinct. I want pitchers to test their limits and become old school of sorts. To be fair, we only really had one pitcher over the last 19 years I managed. I pitched some, too, but the old knuckleball didn’t always work and that proved to be tough at times. And, our pitcher 60 in my final year, but he could still go.

Some of my credentials: 

  • 7 league championships
  • More than 400 victories (estimated)
  • Belief in the youth movement
  • Letting players be players

And, Mr. Klentak, I can’t lie – I can second-guess current managers with the best of them (though, to be fair, I don’t really do it online, so maybe it doesn’t count?) as I attend anywhere from 40-75 live games a year between the minors and majors.

I’m also a baseball nerd (have scorebook, will travel) and love all the analytics of the game. Though, to be fair, I tend to manage more by seeing how the game unfolds more so than worrying about whether or not a guy facing a certain player a third time would be bad. If a guy is dealing, I want him to keep dealing. I’m sure with more analytics, I’d be all over it. There’s not many scouting reports, though, in upstate New York for an over-35 dynasty. We just win!

My salary requirements won’t be too crazy, I promise. I’ll bring fire, that’s for sure. I’m a supporter of the Phillies in many ways – from traveling to see them play to even taking part this past year in the Phillies 5K to getting many clothing items – and I’ll continue to do so as manager (though, a uniform and such will be free, right?) I also believe in the system and have been a supporter at the minors and have a good feel for what’s in the system (prospect guides rule)!

I’m ready for my eighth championship to come with the Phillies.

References available upon request. I look forward to discussing this possibility.

Sincerely,

P.J. Harmer

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!

Lessons on life … and baseball

I had been working full-time at a local daily newspaper for no more than 3-4 months when a happy gentleman wandered into the office.

He came up to my desk, extended his hand, and said “Hi P.J., Sam Nader. Here’s the schedule for the Oneonta Tigers for this season.”

Me and Sam Nader
I grabbed a snap with Sam following his ceremony. A wonderful day for a great man.

That was in March or April of 2004. At that point, Sam would have been a spry 84 years old. His 85th birthday would come a few months later.

The schedule though? Hand written.

This is the way Sam had always done it. A hand-written schedule, boxed off with the days like a calendar. A few scribbles and the such, but pretty much a clean-cut piece of baseball nostalgia – something you won’t see anymore, that’s for sure.

And even at the lowest levels of the minor leagues, it’s usually not the owner of the franchise hand-delivering the schedule. But that was Sam. And that was how things had always been done. 

We chatted for a few moments and he said he looked forward to working with me during the upcoming season.

He then left, got in his car and headed home. Little did I realize that Sam would be somebody I would not only deal with for the next five-plus seasons of New York-Penn League baseball in Oneonta, but he would also become a friend and somebody I would grow to admire more than most I’ve come across.

***

When I was first hired full-time at The Daily Star in January 2004, I was told “You do realize this position includes the Oneonta Tigers, right?”

This was a bad thing?

It seems, in the past, this beat wasn’t the most desirable. And, to an extent, I could understand that. It’s short-season Single A baseball, running from late June to early September. The players are newer to the professional ranks and it’s a grind in the summer, when small-town newspaper people (who live on local high school sports) could get a breather and prep for the upcoming fall season.

For me, it was glorious.

I had always had a goal of covering professional baseball, and I had the chance to do that for six seasons. For all but one of those seasons, Sam was the owner of the team. And until the day they sold the team, he and the only other living partner of the original group to buy the franchise did things old-school. By that I mean, Sam would still take the nightly draw out in a small metal lock box, wander to his car, and head home.

It’s not like there was any chance somebody would try and wrestle that away from Sam – people were always watching out for him.

***

Sam turned 100 on July 8 of this year.

He’s not as spry as he once was, of course, but he’s still sharp as a tack. I stopped and visited with Sam for two-plus hours in the late spring and enjoyed a great conversation about life and baseball.

Sam and Jeff Idelson
Former National Baseball Hall of Fame President Jeff Idelson greets Sam.

His memory is impeccable. He still has a great sense of humor, humility, and hospitality.

Safe to say, he’s still Sam. 

At one point during our conversation, Sam turned to his aide and asked her to grab a guest book from a drawer. She handed him one and he waved it off, noting that wasn’t the one. Get the other one, he said. So she did.

Once in possession of it, Sam had a wide smile on his face. He opened and then handed me the book and said to look at it.

On the page were signatures from Mickey Mantle and Joe DiMaggio. You see, they had visited Sam at his house many years ago. That shouldn’t shock people who know Sam, though, as his connection to the New York Yankees goes deep and covers decades of baseball.

***

Sam, Sid Levine and a small ownership group brought professional baseball back to Oneonta in 1966. The first year, the Red Sox were the affiliation. The following year, Oneonta became the Yankees, forging a decades-long relationship with the most storied franchise in Major League Baseball. That relationship ran through the 1998 season. Oneonta shared the league championship that year, the last time a NY-Penn champion would hail from the City of the Hills.

Even the Boss – George Steinbrenner – had a great relationship with Sam, stopping in Oneonta a few times. Sam also still wears a World Series ring given to him by Steinbrenner after one of the Yankees’ World Series victories (though I’m not sure which year it is from).

Many well-known Yankees have come through or started their careers with Oneonta, including players like Don Mattingly, Bernie Williams, Andy Pettitte, Willie McGhee, Jorge Posada and NFL Hall of Famer John Elway. Buck Showalter managed the O-Yanks for two seasons. Other greats have been here in the early days for barnstorming games or other public relations-type events.

The Yankees left after the 1998 season, heading to Staten Island for a new stadium. Oneonta then began an eight-year relationship with the Detroit Tigers.

The history between the Yankees and Oneonta can’t be ignored, however. Teams won 12 championships (sharing that 1998 crown with Auburn) during the Yankees’ tenure in Oneonta. And despite a NY-Penn team no longer being in Oneonta, the 12 championships is still the most in league history.

The next highest? Auburn with eight.

***

The summer of 2008 was tough. Rumblings of Sam and Sid selling the team were becoming more and more widespread.

This is something nobody ever thought would happen. They had turned down major offers in the past because keeping baseball in Oneonta was very important to them.

But, in the landscape of baseball today, it’s harder and harder for locally owned “mom and pop” sort of ownership, especially when you don’t draw. And unfortunately, Oneonta didn’t draw well. The team was one of only a few throughout minor league baseball that didn’t sell beer. 

When you went to Damaschke Field, it was for baseball, not all the glitz that modern baseball gives, especially at the minor league level.

This was tough professionally, as well, as everybody was keeping quiet. Myself, and other members of the newspaper staff, tapped into every source we could. Nobody would say anything. Even Sam, who usually would be as up front as anybody, wasn’t saying a thing.

Something was up and it was a sad time.

The sale came a few days shy of Sam’s 89th birthday. Sid was 95 at the time. It took a bit of work, but we did get the “scoop” the night before the news conference. It took some prodding and pushing, but somebody close to the team finally gave up some info to me, with the understanding that they couldn’t be on the record, but that I knew what to do with the information. Whispers had been out there. We had stories pointing to different things already, but this was confirmation.

The only people who knew that source was that person, and my boss. We’ll leave it that way, too. But it was somebody who grew to trust me and he knew how important it was for us to be the ones to have the story.

The next day, the conference took force and the news was widespread. It took place in one of the new locker rooms at Damaschke Field. Following the season, the new ownership held meet-and-greet sessions with local businesses and media. They wanted to stay, they said. A two-year agreement to stay was so they could work on something more long-term.

Eventually, the sale was announced. Sam and Sid were there. The new ownership was there. Baseball would stay in Oneonta for at least two more seasons, and hopefully well beyond that, the new group said.

During the news conference, Sam and Sid noted how it was hard, but they weren’t getting any younger and it was time to let it go. The feeling in the room was sadness, and people knew this was probably the hardest decision Sam ever had to make.

The two handled it with dignity and class, a lesson that would have been good for the new group to watch and try and emulate.

The promises new ownership made weren’t followed, though. There was only one more season of professional baseball in Oneonta as the new ownership group and management talked out of both sides of their mouth, telling people one thing and all the while not actually doing what they claimed they were doing.

Following the 2009 season, they packed up and moved to Norwich, Connecticut.

Professional baseball would be gone from Oneonta following the 2009 season, but the legacy Sam Nader had in Oneonta wouldn’t leave or fade.

***

The gentleman that is Sam Nader isn’t lost on those who know him. He served as Mayor of Oneonta in the 1960s and has been a respected resident and businessman throughout his life.

Program for Sam's day
The program for Sam’s celebration day.

He greets people with a smile and a firm handshake and always has a story to tell.

Until Sid died at age 99 in 2012, Sam was still visiting him almost daily. The friendship the two had was a strong bond.

One time, after I was out of newspapers, I stopped to visit Sam with a colleague at the paper. Sam took us to his basement which is a virtual shrine to the game of baseball.

Autographs, photos, trophies and more are on display. Oneonta is lucky to still call Sam an upstanding citizen of the community.

Sam was a heck of a golfer, too. I was supposed to go with him and some others who have worked with him for years, but it never happened. It’s probably not a bad thing as he was still scoring well in those days – stories told to me said he shot his age when he was 84.

It was rare for me to shoot 84 in my 30s, let alone when I am hopefully 84.

***

Sam was inducted into the New York-Pennsylvania League Hall of Fame in 2013, the second class for the Hall. He went in with a crew of people who left indelible marks on the league – including the league founder, three league presidents, and Nader. 

The playoff championship trophy in the NY-Penn is named after his late wife, Alice. The mark of the Nader name will be part of the NY-Penn League for many years.

That should tell you something about who Sam is, and what sort of impact he’s had.

***

Sam’s reach goes well beyond Oneonta. I’ve told this story many times and it still blows my mind.

It was the summer of 2009 and I was still in the newspaper industry. Besides the Oneonta Tigers, part of the baseball beat was covering the National Baseball Hall of Fame, a piece that I truly loved.

The Hall was holding the first Hall of Fame Classic, an old-timer’s game to replace the now defunct Hall of Fame Game. This is something I called for in a column when the Hall of Fame Game was canceled, and I was pumped to see it take place.

Especially, considering who was going to start the game – Hall of Famer Bob Feller. Yes, that Feller. The one who was then in his 80s. I was told by my boss to get some sort of story with Feller. Along the way, I learned a lot about respect and patience.

See, Feller did interviews one at a time. You waited in line for your turn. When I walked up, Feller was speaking to somebody he obviously knew as they were reminiscing and enjoying the chat. I wasn’t worried as I was second in line and was enjoying the situation,

It seems the reporter in front of me didn’t have the same patience as he tried to interrupt, was then scolded by Feller, and told to leave as he would not be speaking to him. The reporter left, flustered and red-faced. I stood there with my eyes open a bit more, but didn’t say a word. The person who Feller was speaking with then said he’d be going and pointed to me and said you have a patient reporter waiting.

When the seat next to him was open, Feller looked at me, patted the seat as an invitation to sit and looked at me, shook my hand, and said “What’s your name and where are you from?”

I told him my name, the newspaper and said “Oneonta.”

With a bit of a gleam in his eye and a small smile on his face, Feller looked at me and said “Oneonta… How’s Nader?”

And like that, Feller and I got into a 10-minute conversation about Sam, and about how long the two had known one another. I barely got any questions about the game, and soon I was on my way with a unique story.

It worked well, though, as Feller pitched to three batters and when he was done, he met with reporters in the runway at Doubleday Field in Cooperstown. Everybody seemed to be in awe as Feller scanned the group and not one person flinched. He looked at me, pointed and said “You… young fella – ask a question.”

So I did. And he answered with some humor, but when he was done, he looked back at me and said “And tell Nader I said hello.”

***

Baseball still remains in Oneonta, though in the form of a collegiate wood bat league team. They’ve won two championships since starting in 2010, following a championship lineage started in Oneonta by Nader, Levine and that ownership group.

In July, the weekend after Sam’s birthday, the Outlaws hosted the celebration of Sam, as well as the 1969 Oneonta Yankees, a team that won the NY-Penn Championship 50 years ago.

Sam greeted
Sam is greeted by a former Oneonta Yankees player, as Sam’s son John looks on in the back.

Several members of that team, as well as other years came for the celebration of Sam. There were local political dignitaries, as well as the outgoing president of the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

And what a perfect day.

Blue skies dotted with a few clouds. It was perfect for baseball. And there sat Sam, front and center at home plate and people echoed words, gave proclamations, and honored a man who had given so much to the City of Oneonta, as well as to baseball. There were a lot of faces in the crowd, too, who might normally not be at an Outlaws game – folks who came out to celebrate Sam and be part of this event.

Sam smiled and watched and it looked as though he was in a place he always belonged – a baseball field. He shook hands, had photos taken with many, shared memories and hugs with those on the field. At the end, a big birthday cake was wheeled on the field and the crowd sang “Happy Birthday” to him.

It was a fitting celebration for a man who has given so much to Oneonta, baseball, and so many people over his century on Earth.

A great day, for a great man.

Thank you, Sam, for being a man with steadfast convictions, honor, and for being a friend – to so many. It’s my hope that everybody who came back to celebrate this man has showed the impact he’s had on many lives.

When the celebration was over and Sam left the field, a game started soon after. Just as it should be – baseball on a perfect summer night in Oneonta.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!  

Rest in peace, Coach

Have any of you seen the video from this year’s Little League World Series, where the one coach from New Jersey gets all emotional saying how honored he was to be called coach?

If you haven’t, you should. You can view it by clicking here.

To me, there’s only been one coach. Sure, I’ve been coached by many, but that term – “Coach” – is and always will only point to one person in my mind. And many others in my town or who graduated from my Alma mater would likely agree, especially if they were coached by him.

Jack Gariepy.

Coach died last week at the age of 75. I hadn’t seen him over the past few years, but what he meant to me over the course of my younger years can’t be measured. The memories can’t be erased.

“Coach” — Photo from funeral home site.

Born in Scranton, Pennsylvania, Coach was a top-notch baseball player in his youth. I remember him telling us he got looks or was offered a minor league contract out of high school, but he opted for college. He played two years (1966, 1967) for the University of Scranton, which, again, if I remember right, he blew out his arm and thus ended his baseball career.

Turns out, that would be something that would benefit many kids in my town as he went on to teach history for 30 years at Delhi. He also coached cross country, baseball, and golf. On top of that, he served as a high school and college basketball official for several decades.

Three times he led the girls cross country team to state championships – in 1978, 1979, and 1981. Those stood as the school’s only state championships until the football team won in 2001, followed by girls basketball in 2018.

I knew Coach from a young age. He had a larger-than-life personality, a smile that wasn’t overshadowed by a slight gap in his front teeth, and those thick-rim glasses he wore for decades. For decades, it was never “P.J.,” with me – it was always “Piege,” something that only a few ever called me. If he wasn’t teaching, you’d likely see him in a Detroit Tigers hat, and if cooler out – jacket.

He was always involved in baseball, from youth to high school. I played varsity my junior and senior years and spent time back and forth from starting to the bench, I was never much of a great player – a bit average and never a standout. He always would give people chances, though. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we failed.

To be sure, those who played for him or were in his class will likely have stories. I mean, for those in school at that time (when teacher’s still could smoke in the break room), who doesn’t remember him smoking at his desk after school? Or those on the baseball team remember Coach in the catcher’s position, leaning against the fence during a game with a smoke?

Times have changed, that’s for sure.

I used to sit toward the front of the bus on baseball road trips. Following games, Coach would take the book, go through everything and have the team and individual stats updated before we got back to school. All by hand. No smart-phone calculators or anything. Just knowing how to calculate ERAs, averages and everything else. I love baseball stats, but I definitely need a calculator.

A few memories really stick out to me with baseball over my two varsity seasons. These first two came during my junior season.

First, we were playing in Afton. I had singled, so I was pretty stoked. My brother was the assistant coach at the time and was coaching first.

The steal sign was pretty simple – Coach would say your name and clap. So he did that. I looked at my brother and seemed confused. I asked if he did what I thought. My brother shrugged. So I .. stayed put. It had to be a mistake. I was definitely not some nimble-foot runner.

Before the next pitch, Coach looked across the diamond, and with a little more force said my name and clapped. I got a lead and took off and slid in safely, much to my surprise.

Again, I am not some sort of a base stealer.

So I was pretty stoked. Stolen base… all right! I look over and wouldn’t you know it… my name and the claps… AGAIN.

I took a deep breath and on the pitch, I took off, sliding in – shockingly enough – safe again. I couldn’t believe it. He says to me, quietly, if I hadn’t ignored the first sign, he probably wouldn’t have made me steal third – though it worked out in the end. Seems he was always teaching lessons.

But hey, in my high school baseball years, I had a 100 percent stealing average – he never sent me again.

The second memory came during a Saturday double-header. As a junior, I didn’t play a ton. So, that was normal. Our third baseman – also one of our top pitchers – got hurt in the first game. So, Coach looks down the bench, calls for me and sends me out to third.

Third base?

OK, let me get this out there – I am not a great fielder. I never have been, I never will be. I do OK, but I am average at best, if not a bit below. My strongest point was always my hitting, or at least my ability to sacrifice bunt (which I did a lot during my junior and senior years). I was a pretty good catcher, but there were several ahead of me on that totem pole. So when I played the field, it was more at second base.

Today? I was the one going in.

Coach, I said… I’ve never played third base. Just get in front of the ball he said.

So off I went to third. I must have looked nervous as the opposing coach said something to me. And, despite knowing I shouldn’t say anything, I noted it was my first time ever playing third, and that I was a wee bit nervous. He told me that it was like any other position and just relax and play the game.

First batter rips one right at me and I had no chance to think. I scooped it and threw it across to get the out. The opposing coach noted it was a good play and well done. At the end of the inning, I ran into the dugout and Coach didn’t say a word to me – he didn’t have to. He just looked and smiled.

I ended up playing third base for both games. I made some plays. I had one or two errors, too. I never played third base again after that game, but the lessons were endless it seemed.

There’s plenty more. From being benched my senior year, to getting other chances along the way, Coach was also working to give everybody the chance to succeed in baseball and in life.

One final one I need to add — the nicknames. Those of you who played for him in baseball, do you remember your nicknames at the sports awards? I’ll never forget mine — “WWF Hulk Harmer” and “Coach, I can pitch if you want me to.” I think we all looked forward to those names every year.

In his later years, I had the chance to play a few rounds of golf with him, or even just seem out when he worked at the local course as a ranger. He was one of the three or four teachers many of us wanted to have a beer with when we hit 21, and I had a couple with Coach over the years.

His passion was also found in his teaching of history. It wasn’t just from books, it was from his research and learning that made you get into his classes. He was unique and ahead of his time. He found ways to reach all kids and make them interested. History wasn’t just about what happened – it was much bigger. He found a way to get you interested in the topic by his passion and the way he’d deliver the material. He challenged you as a student to think outside the box. He’d offer advice and tips. He always was teaching.

But baseball was a love we all knew about.

And goodness did Coach love the Detroit Tigers. Many conversations I had with him over the years, be it seeing him on the street somewhere or at the golf course, centered on our mutual love of baseball. When I was covering the Oneonta Tigers for the local paper, I had a bunch of conversations with Coach about the old Tigers I had the chance to meet and get to know.

He truly loved this community. He gave back and he was definitely a one-of-a-kind personality. May you rest in eternal peace. You will be missed.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!

Social media blunders: Why open the gates so late?

Social media in 2019 is a powerful tool. 

It can be a lot of fun, it can sometimes be mean, and it can be somewhere in between. It’s also a place for a lot of information, which is great. But, if you are putting out information and something seems a bit off or fishy, then somebody likely will be there to call it out.

That seems especially true on Twitter.

For those who don’t follow minor league baseball teams, there are a lot of teams who embrace social media (especially Twitter) and really have a lot of fun with it. And, at the same time, if they post something not fully right, they will usually man up and take the blame and try and have fun with it. 

Not so, recently, in the case of the Trenton Thunder, the Double-A affiliate of the New York Yankees. 

Now, before I get into the whole situation, let me be clear on one thing – I have no issue in what they did in regard to gates and such. It is their right, and they had reasons. But, the fact that they gave false information, then basically doubled-down on it before giving away their true reason (without admitting the first was false) is where this goes wrong. 

Look, I understand what Minor League Baseball is all about. And I love it. But I don’t like when teams swerve fans, especially when there are facts to back up the fan side of things. 

Trenton is one team that usually has a pretty good grasp on things. I even blogged about it in 2016 (https://hoohaa.com/?p=10103). This time, not so much. 

With that in mind, here’s the story. 

It started with a simple Tweet on July 22 – talking about the game that night being postponed. The kicker is that it was a scheduled bobblehead day. For those not into minor league baseball – bobblehead nights are usually massive draws and most of the time only with a limited amount to give away (usually anywhere from 500-2,000). When some stadiums seat upward of 8,000-10,000 people, it’s often necessary to get in line an hour or two early to have a chance. 

So, Trenton postponed this game. And then posted these two tweets:

And …

Harmless, right? People seemed OK with it, but something stood out.

The gates for season-ticket holders would open at 5:30 p.m. – the same time as the first pitch was scheduled. And if you weren’t a season-ticket holder, then you were stuck waiting for the gates to open at 6 p.m. – 30 minutes after first pitch.

People picked up on this. Check out some of the responses, as well as the replies from the team (these are from each of the original tweets, not just one of them):

I mean, really?

I’ve probably been to a dozen or more Eastern League doubleheaders – single-admission and starting earlier than “normal” and been allowed in at least 30 minutes before the first pitch. This got me really wondering. So I had to ask.

And while asking, I got a more truthful answer.

I responded to that with this, which didn’t receive a reply.

On the other thread, they were questioned, too:

This received the “real” answer as well, along with a funny response from their opponents – Akron.

In searching other social media for this situation, Trenton held the line with the Eastern League rule, but when called out, the team again noted the bobblehead deal.

Those responding didn’t seem thrilled with this. And one idea came out that made sense (and I had wondered why they didn’t do this initially, either) — why not have a different entrance for those wanting to just get into the game and not worry about a bobblehead?

So, let me share some of the Facebook goodness, too.

You have to give the team credit for sticking to their stance — but the rule. This is what really got to me. They said it was a league rule, but haven’t shown anything about it. And, in the end, if you were doing this for the bobblehead (which, to be honest, makes no sense why not to open early… if people want the bobble, they’ll be there. Reality is… the night you were washed out was the bobble night — so all bets are off after that. I guarantee you’d still give away 1,500 bobbles), then say so from the beginning without throwing your league and some “rule” out there.

Especially when not everybody cares about the bobblehead. This, from the night of the doubleheader:

But, being the former newspaper person I am, I was really curious. Could this possibly be a true rule?

I think we all know the answer, but I needed to at least try and find out. So, I tweeted at the Eastern League.

Shockingly enough, I never received a response. I’m guessing it isn’t a rule.

And then …

I’d like to point out that I went to a Binghamton Rumble Ponies doubleheader on July 31. First pitch was scheduled for 5:35 p.m. Sound familiar?

Note when the gates open.

Apparently if it was an Eastern League rule… Binghamton didn’t get the memo. Or maybe it was just for a week or so. And why would I think that?

Well, on August 1, Trenton was again scheduled for a single-admission doubleheader. Note the start time. And note the gate time.

Fireworks and drink special night, but doesn’t appear to be a bobblehead night. Maybe that’s the rule they were referring to … or maybe …

Here’s the kicker to this doubleheader — in the opener, Trenton had a no-hitter. Only the sixth in franchise history — yet the second this season. In the minors, doubleheaders are seven-inning games. That no-hitter took 1 hour, 27 minutes to complete.

Let that sink in for a second — 1 hour, 27 minutes. The Trenton’s Brian Keller needed just 70 pitches for this dandy. IF, this had been a bobblehead day. And IF they had pulled the same bull about when the gates open. And IF you are were toward the back of the line because you got there a little later, there’s a chance you aren’t in the stadium and to your seat until about an hour into the game, give or take.

IF that had happened, the Trenton Thunder would have robbed fans of watching a dandy of a game, seeing history, and seeing something that not everybody gets to see on a regular basis in it entirety. And if you had stopped off to grab a hot dog or something, who knows how much you would have seen.

IF that had been me in that situation, I would have flipped. I love bobbleheads. And I have a lot of them. And I like giveaways like anybody else. But when I go to a baseball game, it’s for the game first — everything else second. Maybe Trenton will realize moving forward that many others think this way as well and not rob a possible amazing experience for a rescheduled giveaway item.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!

Can of Corn Challenge: Fall Classic (October)

It’s that time of year.

The fall classic is upon us as baseball playoffs are in the full swing. So far, the playoffs have been pretty exciting and I have a feeling the World Series will be pretty good this year. I know who I am pulling for, but I’ll keep that away from the blog for now.

This also will mark the end of the Can of Corn Challenge for 2017. The odds are, too, that this will end the Can of Corn Challenge. It was a good two-year run, but it hasn’t brought in any other people. And for a writing challenge to succeed, then it needs more than one and, occasionally, a couple of others checking in. The idea of this challenge was to try and attract others who would like to write about baseball, but it never did that well … so it’s been fun, but time to move on.

But the Fall Classic.

I was still young when the Phillies won the World Series in 1980. I have some small memories of it, but not vivid. I slightly remember the Phillies losing to the Orioles in 1983. And 1993 … well, Joe Carter can go pound a serious amount of salt.

But then there’s 2008.

World F’N Champions.

If you wonder why I added that “F’N” – well, just Google Chase Utley’s speech after the championship parade.

Baseball is a funny sport. There are times when you feel like things go your way and 2008 was that way for the Phillies. They battled bad weather and everything else to fend off the Tampa Bay Rays to win the World Series and set up a crazy parade down Broad Street.

The team was filled with colorful players and was an incredibly fun team to watch. They played the game in an old-school way and played it right. There was solid pitching, defense, and hitting. It was just great.

Heck, all of the playoffs were great. There were some amazing moments. And it’s something I’ll remember for a long time. I might never see the Phillies win another World Series. I always said that if I had the chance to see my teams win championships in my lifetime, I’d be happy with one. Yes, I thought they should have won more than one during their run – but they won the one.

Baseball is a great sport. Playoffs are as good, if not better, than hockey. And that says something considering the fact that hockey playoffs are amazing. It doesn’t matter the level though – minors or majors – playoffs are great.

But 2008 was special for me. It’s a Fall Classic I’ll never forget.

Link up below if you want to take part in this month’s challenge!

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!