The Prince

Sans steroids (allegedly) and hamburgers (allegedly), Prince Fielder hit a ball 611 feet during batting practice with the Tigers today. That's far. Far for me; a kid that could barely reach the outfield grass at Fulton Park. That infield was huge! Endless amounts of dirt.

For Prince, probably not that far. The guy hit a home run out of Tiger Stadium at the age of 13. I dyed my hair orange at age 13 using Sun-In. I blame Marshall Mathers and middle-school peer pressures. Fielder hit 50 home runs in the big leagues at the age of 23. First ever to reach 50 at such a young age. I drank 15 beers and taped them together to form a "Wizard's Staff" when I was 23. Probably not the youngest ever to finish 15 cold ones, but a great feat nonetheless.

My point is, Prince is a true ballplayer and great power hitter. He also seems like a good guy and has done a whole lot of damage in a short time. And I wish the Mets had him. Much love for the Prince. Keep swinging hard.

El Beisbol

The great migration south begins. Baselines are re-rolled. Bleachers are shined. Bags of seeds and tins of Skoal are lined up in Florida locker rooms and Arizona dugouts. Bat bags are tossed into on-deck circles along with fresh packs of pine tar. Infields are crisper than ever and bad hops are inexcusable. I can almost smell the leather. I can hear the warm sounds of balls hitting mitts.

ESPN's Bottom Line is alive with updates:

Manny Ramirez signs minor league contract with the Oakland A's. Quality pick-up Billy Beane.

Mariano Rivera hints at retirement. Why?

Dmitri Young loses 50 pounds and attempts comeback. Rooting for you, D'Meat Hook! Please hit your weight.

Tim Wakefield retires. A great knuckleballer and two-time WS champion with 200 wins. He can now drink all the beer and eat all the wings he wants.

Terry Collins touts the Mets will surprise a lot of people and be better than expected.

A new season is here. A new start. Anybody can win. Hope Springs eternal.

Hooray Baseball.

Gone Phishin'

Is Phish my favorite band? No. Do I know the names of any of their band members? No. Do I care? No. Do I even like fish? No. Ever since my Mom told me the story of finding an earthworm in a tuna can while making a sandwich for my Dad, I've tried to avoid the species all together. I also am deathly afraid of sharks. I've actually had nightmares about sharks growing legs and walking among us; ravaging homes and eating newborns in just one bite. Anyway...

The Don was in town around New Year's Eve this year. Why did the Don decided to grace us with his presence? No doubt he wanted to see his old friends from college, tour the Big Apple and lounge in our cozy Spanish Harlem bachelor pad. But Da Don also had a bigger agenda in mind. His favorite band Phish was in town and playing Madison Square Garden three nights in a row. The Don was on a mission and taking us along for the ride. Lynch and I would become Phishheads for one night.

The area surrounding Madison Square Garden was mobbed. I'd never seen so many people loitering outside the NYC sports/concert mecca. I'd also never seen so many without shoes on. Quite frankly, I was frightened. Sharks with legs dream frightened. It was as if Walking Dead had taken over the streets outside MSG. Walkers everywhere. Thought about hiding under a car. Where's RICK!

Entering the arena was like entering another dimension. Flashing lights, guitarists jumping on trampolines, swaying bodies all moving in a scattered, kind of beautiful unison and lots and lots of smoke. I'd never seen so much smoke in an enclosed space. It was probably similar to living with Patty and Selma from The Simpsons. I wanted to call the FDNY but couldn't see my phone.

One big-time Phishhead (I could tell because she had no shoes) noticed me swaying in the aisle. Guess I was swaying pretty well. This is how the conversation went:

Woman: Great show, huh? One of the best they've ever had.

Me: Yeah. Oh, definitely one of the best.

Woman: I'm from Nantucket. Where are you from?

Me: Nantucket, wow! Didn't know people lived there year-round. I live in New York.

Woman: Yeah, I'm a chef. Do you like food?

Me: Yeah, almost as much as I like Phish! What's your favorite dish to make?

Woman: something, something, something with eggs and bacon.

Me: Wow, that sounds delicious.

Woman: I know, so how many shows is this for you? This is my 112th!

Me: Um. Actually..This is my first one.

Conversation over.

She was actually pretty nice about ending the conversation and wanted to stop talking so I could "enjoy to the maximum." I thanked her and continued swaying.

Overall, the Phish concert was an awesome experience. Sure, they may have 25 minute songs, but they're songs that hit a nerve you never thought you had. A stress-free nerve that allows you to be friendly to people you've never seen before, say things you've never said before and sway. Just sway and feel free. A welcome atmosphere after a stressful week in the office. There's nothing quite like it. So a big thanks to Trey, Jon, Mike and Page. And also to Don for dragging us along. Below is a video I filmed on my way back into the concert from the bathroom. No bathroom shots unfortunately.

Wired

Re-watching The Wire with my two roommates this week. One of the best shows I've ever seen. Better than American Horror Story. Even better than Fraggle Rock. Remember that intro?

Anyway, I've started using phrases like "the produc" to describe Bermuda to journalists at work. "You wanna' know more about the produc? See even when the economy doing bad, we still doing pretty good. Everyone still needs a vacation. Caribbean islands man...that shit is forever."

I often find myself whistling while walking around the office, peering into offices and giving people strange glares when I need a monthly report done or a newspaper scanned. Monooo comin'.

I even told my roommate that a girl at the bar looked "right." "She was right, man." Unfortunately, she thought I was wrong.

Not sure what it is that makes me bring out these wire-esque lines. Could be the fact that I'm presently watching The Wire (definitely the case). Or maybe it's because I'm from the dirty Waterbury, where the water's brownin' and the economy drownin'. Maybe it's living in Spa-Ha with the wonky-eyed bodega owners and rats feasting on cats? Sheeeeeettt man. Guess I'm just a gangsta, I suppose...

Rock the Casbah

I just wanted to post this song again. Incredible, funk-filled beat. It's been in my head all day. I actually wrote "Rock the Casbah" as a press release title three different times today.

The song is so good Big Will made time to sample it on Willenium. Which version is better? I can't be the judge of that.