Whoa

UConn freshman Johnny McEntee can do some pretty damn impressive things with a football. I mean, who knows how many takes some of these took, but still. Via the Big Lead:

My friend Bill had a cannon for an arm and started at quarterback for our varsity team our freshman year — the first time that ever happened at our high school. And every day before practice he’d stand outside the locker room entrance and throw a few footballs at a garbage can that was probably 45 yards away. He hit the can a bunch of times but I’m not sure he ever made it in. I wasn’t there to witness it, but Bill maintains that one day Mike Ryan — remember Mike Ryan? — walked by and asked him what he was aiming for. Bill said he was trying to get it in the garbage can, and Ryan took one try at it and nailed it. So goes local legend.

Humorless Fort Wayne bureaucrats disrespect proud legacy of Harry Baals

Despite garnering far more support in an online poll than the thicket of other suggestions, residents shouldn’t expect Fort Wayne’s new government center to be named after one of the city’s longest tenured mayors.

Deputy Mayor Beth Malloy said naming 200 E. Berry St. the Harry Baals Government Center was “probably not” going to happen….

Baals – pronounced “balls” by the then-mayor but “bales” by his descendents – became the Republican nominee for mayor in 1934 and was elected for three successive terms. He returned to politics in 1951 by winning a fourth term but died in office in May 1954. His accomplishments include elevating the railroads in town and negotiating the contract with the Army to establish Baer Field as an air base.

Benjamin Lanka, Fort Wayne Register.

In a story that easily could have been ripped from a spec script for Parks and Recreation, the government of Fort Wayne, Ind. put the name of its new building up for an online vote and somehow failed to consider that Fort Wayne’s longest-tenured mayor ever was named Harry Baals.

Now, they’ve either got to go to work every day in the Harry Baals Center or disrespect the legacy of the great mayor Harry Baals. I’d obviously opt for the former, but apparently the Fort Wayne government doesn’t like to work blue (pun only vaguely intended).

Also, the polls are still open. Rock the vote.

And I suppose now is a reasonable enough time to admit that the fake student-government campaign from my college days that I’ve alluded to several times on this site was indeed for a candidate named Harry Balls. Every year, the full list of every tallied vote — regular and write-in — was published online. We chose the name because we thought it was funny in its simplicity, but also because it was easy to remember and spell correctly in the write-in form. Also so our campaign materials could be filled with various puns like the ones made here.

The funny thing — or maybe the unfunny thing — is that the campaign sort of spiraled out of control. We wound up dedicating way more time than we expected to and committing way more energy than we thought we would, and some of the real candidates — most of whom took themselves and student government extraordinarily seriously — got pretty worked up about it. In an incident that to this day marks the most thorough missing-of-the-point I have ever witnessed, one candidate actually approached me hoping to gain Harry Balls’ “official endorsement,” insisting that he and Harry Balls represented a lot of the same ideas.

When it came time for the outcome of the election to be announced, we actually went down to the student center to hear the results. But there was a delay. And then more delay. Some guy came out and said they were having a problem with the computer voting system. About an hour later, they announced the winner — not Harry Balls. But for the only time in the four years I attended the school, they never published the full results of the election. I’m still suspicious.

This post does not contain a picture because I am unwilling to search for “Harry Baals” on Google Images from my work computer.


Mets getting their s@#$ together

It sounds like the Mets are doing exactly the same thing I’m doing: Scrambling to tie up a bunch of loose ends before heading down to Spring Training.

They’ve restructured their scouting department under J.P. Ricciardi. Andy Martino has more, but the crux of it is that instead of assigning scouts to levels and/or regions, they’re assigning them to comprehensively scout other organizations, top to bottom. Pro scouts will be responsible for three organizations each.

They’ve brought back lefty Casey Fossum, who pitched in Japan last year. Fossum is probably best remembered as that guy I kept drafting to fantasy teams in the middle part of the last decade hoping he’d figure out how to turn his Nintendo pitches into Major League success. He never did, and though he’s way better against lefties than righties, his Major League lines against lefty hitters probably are not good enough to play for a lefty specialist. Still, most of his Major League work has come out of the rotation, so perhaps in a strictly relief role he could flummox Ryan Howard often enough to deserve a roster spot.

And they’ve signed a dude named Dale Thayer to a Minor League deal without inviting him to Major League camp. Matt Cerrone predicted I would welcome Thayer because of his sweet mustache, and he’s absolutely right. It is a sweet mustache, so I do welcome Thayer. Plus Thayer reportedly throws in the low 90s and has been a good reliever at every Minor League stop — though he’s 30 now and has always been old for his level.

I’m never clear on why certain guys get invited to Major League camp and others don’t. Since Thayer pitched in the Majors last year (however briefly) he seems like he should have been at least invited to hang out with the big-leaguers for a little while, but then I guess the decisions could easily have as much to do with the number of available lockers as it does with Thayer’s ability.

Playing professional football hurts

“My anxiety is off the charts,” says Lucas, an analyst for SNY, ESPN and the Rutgers Radio Network. “I’m scared and I’m nervous about this, but I need to do this to be a better dad to my kids and a better husband to my wife. If I can get her to smile like she used to, it will be worth it.”

In a profile that appeared in the Daily News in September, Lucas talked about the pain and depression he has suffered since he retired from the NFL after the 2003 season. He became dependent on painkillers to dull his physical and emotional distress, but even high dosages didn’t bring relief.

Michael O’Keeffe, N.Y. Daily News.

I don’t know Lucas, even though he works here. Since the Jets’ crew is normally in during the evenings and on weekends, our hours don’t often overlap. And I missed this Daily News feature in September, which detailed Lucas’ struggles with pain and injuries and noted his lack of health insurance. NFL players are covered for only five years after they retire, one of the issues the union hopes to address in the upcoming collective bargaining agreement.

Painkiller abuse and addiction is a league-wide problem. Former Eagles lineman Sam Rayburn was taking more than 100 prescription painkillers a day before he got arrested and got help.

I don’t even know where to begin, really. It’s not in the NFL’s best financial interest to insure all its ex-players for a long time — at least so long as the league can shoulder the PR hit — so the onus really falls on the NFLPA to force the league to provide better long-term care. As of 2006, the average life expectancy for a former NFL player was 55.

You can follow along with Lucas’ rehab at his official Facebook page.

Right, baseball

This isn’t to share an overly rosy prediction for the 2011 season. This isn’t to ignore the clouds that have been swirling around the Mets for quite awhile now. This is about remembering that the Mets play the sport of baseball.

Ah yes, baseball.

Dave Rosado, Hot Foot Blog.

In his post, Rosado goes on to explain how he hopes to start paying more attention to the on-field Mets than the in-court Mets, and I can’t imagine many could argue with that.

But since he reminded everyone that the Mets play baseball, I’ll take the opportunity to extrapolate and remind everyone that anything can happen for the on-field Mets in 2011.

We expect — rightfully, based on the information we have — that the Mets will struggle to contend with the Phillies and Braves this season. But as I’ve admitted before, I dismissed the Reds and Padres as “unlikely to contend” before the 2010 season. And both did.

I imagine the sense of Met-fan fatalism surrounding the club’s prospects for 2011 will fade as soon as Spring Training starts and we begin reading more about who is working on a new pitch and who is in the best shape of his life. And by Opening Day we’ll all have convinced ourselves that the Mets are well on their way to October baseball, ignoring odds that are long for various reasons.

And that’s good, because otherwise what’s the point?

Wait a minute, really?

Mob families are so infested with rats these days it’s a wonder there isn’t ear-piercing feedback from all the recording devices.

One Colombo captain, Anthony (Big Anthony) Russo, was taped in December pledging to track down a rat and “chop his head off” only to turn into Tiny Tony and start eating cheese the minute he was pinched.

Now, we have a Genovese associate-turned-informant named Joe Barone crying about the FBI dumping him for getting involved in a murder-for-hire case with an NYPD informant.

Rats ratting out rats!

It’s almost enough to make you admire the standup guys, if there are any left.

Michael Daly, N.Y. Daily News.

I hope this post doesn’t stray too close to sanctimony or politics, two realms I normally try to avoid. But really, Michael Daly?

To his credit, Daly goes on to explain that the mobsters in question — the ones who take their full punishments and do not cooperate with investigators — aren’t exactly good people. But isn’t stigmatizing and terrorizing cooperative witnesses like, a real problem, and not just in mob movies and The Wire?

David Wright on his own bowling abilities

“Sometimes there’s not a lot to do,” the third baseman said. “I’ve picked up the bowling ball a few times this offseason, especially once I heard we’re going to have this league. I don’t want to be surprised by anything. So I practiced a little bit and I think I’m ready to go.”

Wright originally was coy about what he can bowl, but then offered: “I think it’s just the same with my baseball — just a lot of inconsistencies. Every once in a while I’ll creep up around 200. I can also bowl a 120 or 130. Just like baseball, I think it’s kind of parallel. I need to find some consistency in baseball, find some consistency in bowling.”

Adam Rubin, ESPN.com.

Maybe I’m just desperate for any little bit of baseball news, but there’s a lot to love in the quotes from Wright.

First and foremost, that’s about my same bowling range, though I don’t bowl that often. That means if I ever had the opportunity and things were falling my way, there’s actually some sport I might beat David Wright at.

Second, it’s hilarious and completely predictable that Wright, upon learning that the Mets would have a team bowling league this season, would practice for it. And it’s going to be especially funny when Wright strikes out the first time in Spring Training and some small but vocal group of morons asserts he should have spent more of his offseason watching game film and less of it bowling.

Also, and most interestingly — paging Seth Samuels — Wright here acknowledges his inconsistency. That’s not groundbreaking for a ballplayer (players speak of the need to achieve consistency all the damn time), but it feels at least mildly notable given how frequently Wright’s streakiness has been discussed this offseason.

Sandwich of Last Week

Less talk more rock:

The sandwich: Cheesesteak with Cheez Whiz, without onions, with hot peppers from Carl’s Steaks, 34th and 3rd in Manhattan.

The construction: Basically all those things I listed above, on a hero roll (hoagie if you want to be all Philadelphian about it).

Important background information: OK, I don’t want to make this a whole thing about cheesesteaks because I’ve already written a whole thing about cheesesteaks, way back when. But I suspect that, at least in part due to the simplicity of their construction, cheesesteaks have a higher floor and lower ceiling than most sandwiches. More on this to follow.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Primarily, it tastes like a cheesesteak.

Whenever I eat a cheesesteak that someone has recommended to me — as I have at Pat’s in Philly, and as I did at Carl’s — I come back to the same question: What is it about this particular cheesesteak that merited the mention?

Obviously there are particulars that impact the taste, some clearer than others: The roll has to be fresh. The cheese has to be reasonably plentiful. There should be ketchup, added by the sandwich’s maker or by me.

But once we get beyond that, what is there to a cheesesteak? Almost the entire sandwich is constituted of the thinly sliced steak, which tastes pretty much the same no matter where you get it — mostly dry, and more than anything a beefy conduit for delicious cheese and ketchup flavors.

Obviously cheese quality matters, but if you’re opting for the choice that’s standardized across many cheesesteak purveyors — the Cheez Whiz — then it just seems like there’s not going to be a hell of a lot of difference between the best and worst cheesesteaks*.

As for this cheesesteak: It was a pretty good cheesesteak, even on the narrow cheesesteak spectrum. The bread was clearly fresh, the proportions were fine, and the hot peppers added a nice kick to it. Would I say it was the best cheesesteak I’ve ever had? No, but then I can’t remember a specific cheesesteak deserving of that honor.

Is the one from Carl’s better than the one from the Midtown deli/foodbar place downstairs from my office? I think so. The bread is better and there’s a little more meat. Plus the place downstairs uses sliced American cheese, and I like the gooey creaminess the Whiz adds to Carl’s offering.

Can the cheesesteak at Carl’s compare to the famous sandwich at Pat’s? It’s not as big, for certain. But then I didn’t have to go to Philadelphia to get it. And the people at Carl’s are nice, to boot. I’ve said this before, but there’s really nothing I detest more than places that make it their shtick to be mean to customers. I’m paying you. It’s just a cheesesteak, bro, no need to be a jerk about it.

What it’s worth: The cheesesteak was $6.75 and the peppers were an extra 50 cents — totally reasonable. Also a trek around Murray Hill, but that’s a different story.

How it rates: I’ll say 73 out of 100, and note that a 73 is still a very good sandwich. And I’ll offer that probably all cheesesteaks made on even remotely fresh bread fall between 60 and 80 on the scale. I’ve yet to be blown away by a cheesesteak, though I remain open to having my mind changed about the whole narrow-deliciousness-spectrum thing.

*- Friend of TedQuarters Jake Rake has astutely pointed out that Jamaican beef patties are probably our most consistent food. You can get one at a chain like GoldenKrust or at a local place like Christie’s in Prospect Heights, or get one at a bodega or a pizzeria, and they all pretty much taste the same: awesome.

Baseball!

On my drive home from DC yesterday I had a doozy of a blog post swimming around in my head. It aimed to detail the trip itself, with the determined pace of the cars on the road and the Packers and Steelers flags flying from side-view mirrors, and suggest that the road made for a better pregame show than any of the slick-suited barking on television. It was to contain the line “the air was crisp with Super Bowl zeitgest,” and it would at once indict and celebrate the grand annual festival for capitalism that concludes the NFL season, investigating our near-religious adherence to rituals and ultimately condemning either the league’s owners or the citizens of the United States of America for their excesses. Something like that. It was to be a towering achievement, I promise.

Then the game happened, and the Packers won. One of the game’s best quarterbacks outplayed another of the game’s best quarterbacks, and there were some spectacular catches and hilarious commercials and epic halftime show blunders.

And then this morning, walking up Madison Avenue in the sunshine, I realized I felt nothing. Excited as I was for the Super Bowl on the length of the 5-hour drive, I no longer harbored any desire to pen the single most important piece of sportswriting of this century — or at least not if it pertained to last night’s game. The Super Bowl is what the Super Bowl is: Just another diversion to help us pass time until baseball season.

The Super Bowl has that in common with pretty much everything else besides baseball season.

On Twitter today, news trickles in from Port St. Lucie as the first Mets arrive in camp. Bullpen catcher Dave Racaniello is in the house. Josh Thole survived the perils of air travel. Things vaguely pertaining to baseball!

Baseball!

That is all.