Posted by caesari on 8/27/2012 5:11:00 PM (view original):

Ted Lyons - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Posted by rooskie on 8/31/2012 3:24:00 PM (view original):
This is us:

adreid; Arte; axtell; ballgame43; blanch13; bluenoser44; caes717; clinds30; cyben5150; gators55; kelly_mccann; litigator01; mark102857; mikemiele; mmiller989; mmeier; npg32433; pat007ohmss; peachbase; pwesseler; rayman2112; robboogi; rooskie; rootgargle; rugrat; sermonauthor; slurie2001; sonneyboy2000; spursbasebal; tpbik; Thunderclese

Posted by mirky on 8/31/2012 6:50:00 PM (view original):
I'm fairly certain that it is Ed Delahanty and not Joe Cronin that "fell" into the Niagara River

Posted by caes717 on 8/28/2012 3:37:00 PM (view original):
The first thing I remembers the game that I love. 
A man on the diamond with a golden glove, 
daddy with me in the cheap seats above sayin 'boy keep your eye on the ball'. 
The crack of the bat, the stadiums roar, 
we were up on our feet for the tie-breaking score. 
I said 'daddy I know what you brought me here for' he said 'good I hoped you'd hear the call' 
 
Life's a fastball, belt high,
coming right down the middle.
Don't stand there and let it go bye 
swing hard and aim for the stands! 

My field of dreams was covered in stone, 
an old gravel Parkin' lot next to our home. 
Dad on the mound until the daylight was gone, 
sayin 'boy keep your eye on the ball' cause it's "hey batter, hey batter, swing batter, swing" the world is an infield always chattering. 
If you don't concentrate they'll spoil your timing, 
and you'll walk away cussing them all. 

Life's a fastball, belt high, 
coming right down the middle. 
Don't stand there and let it go bye, 
swing hard and aim for the stands!

Posted by caesari on 8/26/2012 1:53:00 PM (view original):

Posted by mmiller989 on 8/25/2012 1:08:00 PM (view original):

Posted by rooskie on 8/20/2012 2:39:00 PM (view original):

Posted by sermonauthor on 8/20/2012 12:39:00 PM (view original):

Just one question Mr Commish, sir . . .

with all the Hall of Famers and baseball greats' names still available . . . .

how did we end up with a name like . . .

*gulp* . . . .

DIRT ?

It is where the games are played and and the grass grows. It is what a batter kicks to cover the plate and a manger kicks at an umpires shoes; not to mention the cerimonious rubbing up of the balls with it and scratching out a nice spot in it in front of the rubber. And never forget it's whay you're going to eat some of when sliding head first into a bag, or the plate. Tha infamous brush back pitch will make you hit it from time to time. Without it what would the game be?

I feel a warmth occurring...rubbing...scratching...eating. I have a strange urge to pick up my wife's copy of 50 shades of gray.

Your wife's copy... Suuuuuuuure.