A New Blog Home

A lot has changed since I launched this blog a few years back. Then, I had no children. Now, my eldest has lengthy, well-thought-out conversations with me, and my youngest is crawling all over the house. Then, I lived in a cozy 1200-square-foot College Hill Victorian home. Now, I live in a 3000-square-foot Price Hill castle. Then, I longed for the days when I cut classes and spent hours playing that Baldwin upright in Room 113 of the MSJ music wing. Now, I just long to be home with my family.

Blogger has been good to me, but it’s time to move on. I’ve been tinkering around on WordPress and have decided to move my internet home from my college happy place to my home in real life. Also, WordPress has more aesthetically-pleasing templates. And I think it will be friendlier on the picture posts, which have become quite a bear here on Blogger.

Other than the URL, not much will change. I’ll still ramble on and on about stuff most of you won’t care about. I’ll still use the blog as a place to journal my thoughts and the happenings of my family. There will be house stuff, neighborhood stuff, family stuff, angry stuff, sports stuff, quasi-inspirational stuff, and hopefully the occasional blogjacking by my wife.

So, update your RSS thingies, bookmarks, and links to http://961olive.wordpress.com. See you there.

On Sports and Money

Manny Ramirez earned over $128 million while playing for the Boston Red Sox from 2001 through 2007. Oftentimes, his prima donna attitude created unnecessary drama to the organization* paying him such an enormous wage. In 2008, a year in which he would earn just shy of $19 million, his poor/immature attitude finally moved the Sawks to trade him away, washing their hands of the malcontent hundred-millionaire.

This morning, Manny turned down the Los Angeles Dodgers' fourth different contract offer that would pay him over $20 million annually. Not enough money.

*It would be ludicrous to suggest that Ramirez didn't truly earn his pay. His production in his Red Sox tenure was unmatched in the league, and Boston won multiple World Series titles with him. I'm not trying to paint Boston as a victim, here. (Salary info here.)
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Albert Haynesworth stomped, with his football cleats, on an opposing player's unguarded face during an NFL game in 2006. He was suspended by the league. He has been in trouble, both on and off the field, since his days as a college athlete. He continues, to this day, to have legal issues relating to his off-field behavior.

This morning, Haynesworth signed a contract with the Washington Redskins worth $100 million. His agent has reported that there were at least 6 teams offering guaranteed money in excess of $30 million.
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I know, I'm not one of the most dominant right-handed hitters in baseball history. Nor am I an elite defensive tackle on the gridiron. But... dang... these guys make an awful lot of cash even though their actions would have gotten most Americans either fired (in Manny's case) or jailed (in Haynesworth's case).

Meanwhile, as the sole earner for my stay-at-home wife and 2 young children, as someone who has never created a disturbance at work, as someone who has never been arrested... I've taken a 25% pay cut.

I'm not complaining*. It's life. I'm not even going down the "life's not fair" road. Truthfully, I find it kinda fascinating. Mindboggling, even.

(*In fact, for full disclosure, I must confess that I would love love love for Uncle Bob to pony up $30 million so that Manny could hit cleanup for the 2009 Reds. I think Manny in the heart of the order makes this team a contender to win the Central. I'd throw a Manny Party. Really. I would. And I'd definitely go to more games this summer.

And, I sure wouldn't mind Haynesworth on the Bengals' D-line. He's a difference-maker. And I want to watch the Bungles win.)

On Newspapers

There was a Cincinnati Enquirer on my front steps this morning. Either a delivery mistake or a desperate attempt at luring me in. While my dad will be a daily subscriber until the fish wrap is no more (and it will be no more, at some point), I haven't bought a newspaper in many years. I'll scan one if it's free and available (at dad's house, at a hotel, sitting by the water cooler at work), but this morning's edition is a fine example of why the printed paper is nothing I'll likely again pay for...

I threw the paper in the car and drove to work. Did my morning routine at the office. Heard that Manny turned down the Dodgers' latest offer and that Albert Haynesworth signed a big deal with the Redskins. Opened up the paper during a brief coffee break and found nothing about Manny or Haynesworth. Why? Because those stories broke this morning. After the paper was printed.

(It did feel good to get a little ink rubbed off on my fingers, and the smell was familiar and friendly, I must confess.)

Top stories on the sports page this morning? UC defeats Huggs, XU wins a road game, Micah Owings impresses in his spring training debut. Those stories interest me, but I don't need to read them. I read about them online last night before going to bed. Now, I actually wanted to read about Manny and Haynesworth, but the paper won't help me there. Too new news for the newspaper.

Hello, ESPN.com, sportingnews.com, si.com, and sports.yahoo.com.

I heard on the radio that the Rocky Mountain News printed its last edition this morning. The Cincinnati Post is no more. Many papers have gone under. Sigh. I loved reading the sports page growing up, but it doesn't do anything for me anymore. I miss the ink on my thumb and the scent of the paper, but it's obsolete to me.

(Postscript: Cin Weekly and CityBeat are different. Their news is good for a week, if not longer.)

Hope Springs Eternal

Here we go again. This is the time of the year when I talk myself into the Reds being a contender. This is the time of the year when my optimistic/hopeful part of my brain tries to convince the pessimistic/realist part of my brain that:

• Kirk Saarloos and Josh Fogg just might become Jose Rijo circa 1990.
• Danny Graves will successfully make that transition to the rotation.
• Brandon Claussen will finally have that breakout season.
• Tony Womack is the answer to the world's economic crisis.

Not this year. I can't do it. I can't forecast this team scoring enough runs.

I could talk myself into believing that the pitching staff could be one of the best in the league:

• Harang will likely bounce back.
• I think Arroyo shows more of his 2nd half form.
• It is likely that Volquez's reality is somewhere in between his 1st and 2nd half. That means he's pretty good.
• I think Cueto takes a quantum leap this year and shows more top-of-the-rotation ability.
• Plug in Owings or Ramirez or Bailey or somebody to be a reasonable excuse for a major leaguer and that's one sweet rotation.
• The bullpen will be fine. Cordero + Burton + Bray + Rhodes + Lincoln + Roenicke = solid.

Well, heck... if the pitching is solid... they wouldn't have to score as many runs...

No. I can't do it. Not again. I won't do it.

Votto is going to be a force in the middle of this lineup for years to come. For the third consecutive year, I am going to predict that Encarnacion is going to break out with a .280/30/100...

...but I refuse to get excited about a club counting on:

• A leadoff hitter coming off a .251 AVG while playing home games in a hitter's paradise.
• Phillips batting 4th. (Look at his numbers vs. RHP... not good.)
• A LF platoon of non-roster players.
• A 32-year-old defensive specialist SS who didn't see the field last year due to leg injuries who happens to own a sub-.300 career OBP.

To me, this looks likes an offensive team with less power that will not only have trouble driving in runs, but simply getting on base.

I think this team can, if everything goes right, finish 2nd in the Central. StL, Mil, Hou, & Pit don't impress me at all. And while I don't expect the Cubs to make any noise in October (you know, since they are the Cubs, after all), I find it hard to believe that anyone else could win the division.

(The Cubs' order will feature Alfonso Soriano, Derrek Lee, Aramis Ramirez, Milton Bradley, Geovany Soto, and solid OBP contributors Ryan Theriot & Aaron Miles. Even if we assume quantum leaps for Bruce & Encarnacion, I see no reason to rationally believe that the division is winnable by our beloved Redlegs. Especially not with Willy Taveras in a starting lineup.)

I'll still be following this team like crazy. But I'm not as hopeful as I've been in years past.

Postscript to Hope Springs Eternal

• Every year, the first time I hear the end of the national anthem, followed by Marty's "If you're ready now, the starting lineups..." gives me chills. Really good chills. Screw Punxatawney Phil -- it's Brennamen who lets me know spring is on the way.
  
  
• Again, to quote the HOFer, I'd be a lot more excited if I was regularly hearing "the shortstop, Jerry Hairston, Jr." A quasi-friend of mine agrees with the thought of Hairston: "I'd ride that horse until it collapses." Why not? He far outpaced his career averages last year, but I'd give the guy who finished 2008 with an .871 OPS the upper hand at starting over the guy who didn't touch the field in said year. Ride him until he collapses. If and when his collapse comes, thank him, pat him on the back and send him on his way.
  
  
• If I were in the Reds front office, I would have pushed hard to obtain a middle-of-the-order bat for a corner OF. Nady... Abreu... even Dunn. I never would have signed Willy Taveras (in case you didn't catch on to that, yet). Between Dickerson, Hairston, and Bruce, I'd have assumed CF was solid enough and placed the "need" at a corner position.

Fatter Again

Honestly, I'm not even sure why I'm surprised anymore. I've done it again. For the third time in the last 4 years, I have lost 15 or more pounds, then put 15 or more pounds back on again. Right now, my morale is so low I don't believe I'll ever successfully keep weight off.

I've been in denial about it. In November, I kept telling myself that I'd get back in a healthy routine after the Europe trip. In December, I kept telling myself that I just needed to get through the holidays. In January, I swore I was gonna get back on track "next week". February is almost over, and I'm out of excuses.

It's really depressing. I was sure I'd keep it off this time. And now, at some point, I must begin again.

Chapter 764, In Which The Family Cook is Interviewed, and Toby Takes a Stranger Upstairs

(Sorry for the long title, but Winnie-the-Pooh is oozing from my brain right now. Thus, it must be parodied in this post.)

• Sharing the blog love amongst family, the official wife is up to 3 posts. Apparently, while obtaining 11 hours of sleep last night in an effort to shake this nagging sickness, I missed out on a hellacious evening with Aimee. I'm deep sleeper, but I had no idea it was possible to sleep through an hour-and-a-half of nonstop baby screaming. However, that's what I'm told I accomplished last evening. Many thanks to mi'lady for allowing me to rest. Venting wife post here.
  
  
• The official sister (a.k.a. The Family Cook) has been published. Cin Weekly, that bastion of local journalism, selected the sister as its cook of the week. The lovely photo of the sister and her dish is taken in a beautifully-restored-and-familiar kitchen. (The dish definitely can serve more than 6, IMHO.)
  
  
• When the very cool photographer arrived at our house, the food wasn't quite finished yet. "Dave" introduced himself to all of us, and Toby immediately took a liking to him. Tobe took Dave by the hand and said "want to see my room? I'll show you my trains..." and led him away. Dave, certainly aware that he was a stranger in our house, looked back at me with a very uncertain face. I accompanied them upstairs, where Dave quickly tried to figure out a way to get back downstairs. It was quality.

Quote of the Day (2-23-09)

I sing. It's one of the things I do. At church, I try to sing well. At home, sometimes I sing to be funny. It's fun to cut loose a nice loud obnoxious "DID YOU EVER KNOW THAT YOU'RE MY HEEEEEE-ROOOOOOOOW?" now and then. This oftentimes amuses Toby and gets Robyn to roll her eyes at me. Everyone wins.

Dateline: Yesterday, dinnertime, at the house. I had just walked in the door after the commute home. After some family banter, I unleashed a "BAILAMOS! LET THE RHYTHM TAKE YOU OVER, BAILAMOS! TE QUIERO, AMOR MIO..." It was much more Chris Cannon than Enrique Iglesias, if I may say so myself, which I consider a victory, of course.

And... scene!

"BUY THE MOOOOOOOOOST! BUY THE MOOOOOOOOST! BUY THE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!"

- Toby, running in circles around the living room, miraculously avoiding stepping on a large assortment of toys with his bare feet, smiling broadly with his hands above his head

Pure awesomeness. High comedy. Another reason to have a child.

Friendship

I started hanging out with Mike when we were approximately 6 years old. (Maybe we were 7. Neither of us seem to be able to remember...) Regardless, we grew up together.

From elementary school through college graduation, from part-time jobs to the beginning of our career paths, from those awkward pre-teen crushes through marriage, from being boys to being fathers, there aren't many experiences we haven't shared.

It is a sublime kind of friendship that a very precious few are ever so blessed to know. Even though Mike has been multiple states away for the last several years, ours is the kind of friendship that seems to pick up where it left off, bereft of any uncomfortable moments, even when face-to-face for the first time in many months.

This week, Robyn and I packed up the kids and the car and drove to Asheville to spend a few days with Mike & Jerri and their boys. While Toby and Aidan have certainly met on a few occasions, it was their first time to hang out with each other for an extended period of time. They hit it off pretty dang well. Playgrounds, meals, car rides, toys, hikes...









I hope our kids are as blessed as we are to find such a wonderful lifelong friendship. I'm not so naive as to think 2 boys, 300+ miles away from each other, will become best friends simply because their daddies are best friends. But it was fun to watch them play together.

We've done well, brother. Somehow, we emerged from childhood and adolescence and were able to convince a couple beautiful girls (way out of our league) to marry us and start families. Praise God for the journey, and praise God that we're not done yet.

I Can't Get Over the Steroids

I love baseball... so much.

I try not to throw around the word love... you know, I love God, and my wife, and my kids. I like Mexican food, as it wouldn't seem right to love it. I think I might love music, but again, it's probably just a really strong appreciation, not necessarily a love.

But I love baseball.

Steroids have really messed with my head over the last few years. Seeing hallowed milestones and records (such as 500, 3000, 61 and 756) passed, now knowing that they were passed on the juice is tough to swallow. But none of the players whose names have been named are players I care much about. McGwire, Sosa, Palmeiro? Bummer... Bonds? That sucks.

But A-Rod? I have strong feelings about the guy. I don't like him. Would I like him wearing Red, playing SS or 3B, batting in the heart of the lineup at GABP? Hell yes I would. But, as a non-Red, I find him to be very easy to dislike.

Although, I always thought he was clean. One of the best to ever play the game? Absolutely. Clean? I sure assumed so. But now? Now, not only is he going to break Bonds' record that Aaron should still have, but he's not even going to be able to claim he did it right.

Another big ol' * for the record books.

And instead of writing any more on this topic, let me just leave it to a pro to say it better than I can:

"...to see someone like Barry Bonds or Alex Rodriguez come along and show such blatant disrespect for the history of the game, well, it infuriates me. I’ve written this before, but if you’re Barry Bonds, how do you possibly justify breaking Hank Aaron’s all-time home run record while loaded with steroids and HGH? You know the man faced bitter racism in his pursuit; know he received death threats on more than one occasion. So how do you cheat? How? Or, in a similar case, you’re Mark McGwire. You’ve been juicing regularly, and when you pass Roger Maris’ single-season mark you rub your bat against his and begin to cry. How? How? Roger Maris’ 1961 was, from an individual standpoint, a nightmare. The media rooted against him; he began losing his hair and chain smoking. It was pure hell—and you come along, cheat and claim the title as your own? How?"

--Jeff Pearlman, February 18, 2009

Obviously, at this point, there's really no one we fans should assume is clean. There has been much discussion about how Junior Griffey is clean, but why should I believe that? That's what sucks the most about this whole situation... there's really NOTHING in the game I love that I can look back on and assume it was done fairly.

If I find out that Barry Larkin was juicing when he became the first 30/30 SS, I'll be depressed. If I find out that Jose Rijo was juicing when he won the '90 WS MVP, I'll be depressed. If I find out that Sean Casey was juicing when he went 25/99 in that 'almost' 1999 season, I'll be depressed.

If you find any of these to be true, please spare me the details. I need some good baseball memories to remain pure.

Hi, I'm Scott and I'm a Snob

As of my last post on this topic, I stated that I'm probably not officially a full-blown coffee snob yet. Well, now, I probably am.

My last 3 cups of coffee have been made with my new super-cool handy-dandy French press.

The kitchen counter is getting kinda crowded. It now contains (in order of age):

• Drip coffee + espresso maker
• Bean grinder
• Espresso Pot
• Electronic Tea Kettle
• French Press

I have a problem. But it's ok. Caffeine is good for the soul.

(Many thanks to Jeff and Jessica for getting me started on the road to coffee snobdom.)