Number One, A Lost Art, The Boss
It’s not often the TinCaps score three runs and win a game, but they managed to do it on Wednesday night’s series opener against West Michigan. It was just the 10th time all season that Fort Wayne has picked up a win when scoring three runs or fewer. The TinCaps got only three hits, but didn’t need much more than that because of the pitching of Colin Rea.
In his first win at Parkview Field (he’s been in the rotation since May 10th), Rea threw six innings and gave up just two hits. He didn’t allow a base hit through the first four innings. He credited his ability to get ahead in the count and the aggressiveness of the Whitecaps hitters as integral parts to his success.
The further we go into this season, sometimes the less you can feel like you’ve got a read on a team. West Michigan came into Parkview Field last night on a three-game winning streak after taking three of four from Lansing. The Lugnuts, by the way, have the best record in all of minor league baseball. But by the time Luis De La Cruz threw two innings and Matt Stites one for his 11th save, West Michigan had just two hits for the entire ballgame, after scoring 15 runs over the past three games.
Ruben Mejia starts today, looking not just for his first win at Parkview Field, but for his first win in the TinCaps starting rotation. Here’s to a second straight day of firsts.
In today’s TinCaps Report Podcast, hear from Colin Rea, who tells us about what led him to a successful start and his first win at Parkview Field:
A LOST ART
When was the last time you sent a postcard? Not only can I not think of the last time I sent one, I can’t think of any time I’ve ever sent one. I suppose this link will be more appreciated by the older generation of blog readers, then. Here’s a blog entry from The New York Review of Books entitled “The Lost Art of Postcard Writing.”
“Until a few years ago, hardly a day would go by in the summer without the mailman bringing a postcard from a vacationing friend or acquaintance. Nowadays, you’re bound to get an email enclosing a photograph, or, if your grandchildren are the ones doing the traveling, a brief message telling you that their flight has been delayed or that they have arrived. The terrific thing about postcards was their immense variety. It wasn’t just the Eiffel Tower or the Taj Mahal, or some other famous tourist attraction you were likely to receive in the mail, but also a card with a picture of a roadside diner in Iowa, the biggest hog at some state fair in the South, and even a funeral parlor touting the professional excellence that their customers have come to expect over a hundred years.”
Who doesn’t like getting a piece of handwritten mail? My grandfather still regularly sends me letters, and it’s easily the best part of my day to open those and realize that someone took the time to sit down and write something to you, rather than typing it in an email or sending it in a text. Plus, all the other mail I get is bills and junk. I know I can’t be the only one.
The first thing I usually do each day when putting together a blog post is figure out who the musical guest will be. The song can be a reflection of the weather outside, the way the team is playing, or it can have no connection to what’s going on and it might just be a song I heard on the radio. Maybe three or four times this year I’ve used a Bruce Springsteen song. I like Springsteen, but maybe not to the extent that some other folks do. Some of my friend have seen him more than five times in concert. New Jersey Governor Chris Christie has seen him perform live 129 times. Wow.
While the music is good, I’m more interested in what make’s a successful person successful. How did he get to be so good, and how has he stayed that good for so long? Malcolm Gladwell has theorized on what it takes to be successful with his hypothesis of 10,000 hours–the time it takes to really master something.
Springsteen is now 62 and is still rocking faces (he has seen a million, and rocked all of them) across the land. I don’t know what it takes to perform a rock concert, but I’d imagine it makes you rather tired. I get tired after eating a Subway sandwich, so I can’t imagine what a two-hour concert must feel like.
“He is five-nine and walks with a rolling rodeo gait. When he takes in something new—a visitor, a thought, a passing car in the distance—his eyes narrow, as if in hard light, and his lower jaw protrudes a bit. His hairline is receding, and, if one had to guess, he has, over the years, in the face of high-def scrutiny and the fight against time, enjoined the expensive attentions of cosmetic and dental practitioners. He remains dispiritingly handsome, preposterously fit. (“He has practically the same waist size as when I met him, when we were fifteen,” says Steve Van Zandt, who does not.) Some of this has to do with his abstemious inclinations; Van Zandt says Springsteen is “the only guy I know—I think the only guy I know at all—who never did drugs.” He’s followed more or less the same exercise regimen for thirty years: he runs on a treadmill and, with a trainer, works out with weights. It has paid off. His muscle tone approximates a fresh tennis ball. And yet, with the tour a month away, he laughed at the idea that he was ready. “I’m not remotely close,” he said, slumping into a chair twenty rows back from the stage.”
OAR…take it away!