To endorse the return of “No-DH” ball in the National League is not a knee-jerk thing, it’s not a howling repudiation of the designated hitter.
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To endorse the return of “No-DH” ball in the National League is not a knee-jerk thing, it’s not a howling repudiation of the designated hitter.
I get it, we live in a world where we have to feed the ‘Take Machine’. I understand.
Of all people, I didn’t expect our Murph & Mac platinum member “Friend of the Program” (Gentleman) Jim Nantz to knock me for a loop about the 2020 49ers.
No, the Jock Blog does not usually use datelines. But this one is different. This one is written from the ballpark.
Loving college football on Saturdays isn’t a totally clean ethical experience in 2020.
For a region going thru an apocalyptic nightmare of air quality, fire destruction and a crippling pandemic, we sure do it have good on the sports scene.
The discovery of hitting the baseball for the San Francisco Giants.
Here’s a sentence you may never see again in the Jock Blog…
Move over, Bobby Thomson. It’s really Fernando Tatis, Jr. who hit The Shot Heard ‘Round the World.
For five months now, we sports fans have dealt with life in the pandemic. What we’re dealing with includes cardboard cutouts, Gabe Kapler in a mask, and now an autumn without the Cal marching band in Strawberry Canyon. That’s pretty weird stuff.
And all of us getting to know Kapler, a man hired nearly ten months ago, a man yet to manage a game for the beloved Gigantes, and a dude already morphing through different iterations as a fan base watches.
You would think he would know about the danger of shark-infested waters.
And now for something completely different: optimism?
I have two words about these Puig-to-the-Giants rumblings.
The designated hitter in the National League. Pass the vomit bag.
Or, as I like to call them: Three Fountains of Hope. Or, the Trilogy of Belief. Or, the Trinity of Optimism.
And now we are all grappling with ghosts of America’s Original Sin: slavery, and the systemic racism that has taken root in our culture ever since.
As an old sportswriter, I keep a keen eye on my ink-stained colleagues. I still love to read them. When the Murphy family hard-copy newspaper hits our driveway every morning, it’s the sound of loyalty.
As if 2020 wasn’t surreal enough, we’ve now found ourselves somehow reliving the 1994 baseball strike in the middle of a global pandemic.
Could it be true? South Korea was not only starting a 144-game season, but ESPN would broadcast the games? Live ball?
We’ve all been bobbing and weaving, trying to survive the stoppage of life that is the CoronaVirus pandemic, but then came the news that may require a standing-eight count in my corner.
Only the all-conquering, all-powerful NFL could pull off the the COVID-19 draft, or as Roger Goodell might have wanted to call it ‘Pandemic Pandemonium’.
To be a sports fan in 2020, means we have to embrace being unable to be a fan.
Incredibly, it might be missing Tiger Woods in April that hurts most of all.
Today would have been the day.