Around the Horn, and a Question About Dinner

Good afternoon, everybody. Here's some fresh gheorghasbord with A. Whitney Blogger.

Baseball season starts Thursday. And there was much rejoicing. Expect a “green fields of the mind” kind of baseball preview post coming up any minute now. We have top men working on it. Top. Men.

In the meantime, from the Nerd Herd: For the past couple of months, rob and Marls and I have participated in a Strat-o-matic baseball league managing players from the 1980's on middling clubs we assembled. Will Clark is really all I've got, though Cliff Johnson has hit 36 taters in 360 AB's (you do the math). My Tidewater Tides are 67-86 with three 3-game-series to be played over the next three nights. Marls' Queens Kings has the same miserable record, except that I have made 32 transactions since the season started and he hasn't touched his crap team. Kong has 33 dongs. And then there's rob, leading his garbage division at a 76-77 clip. Cecil Cooper's 44 dingers and Jimmy Key have led the way for him.  Will he make the playoffs? Will he do so with a winning record? Will Marls or I finish worst in the league (as we are now)? All this and more. Stay tuned!

Vinny Green Balls

The NFL Draft is a month away, but that doesn't prevent daily headlines about it. From the Who Gives a Shit? file cabinet, we announce Whitney's suggested pick for the Washington Football Team: Christian Darrisaw, LT from Virginia Tech. B'more guy who did some time at Fork Union Military Academy prior to becoming a Hokie. FUMA, known for Vinny Testaverde and Don Majkowski and Mike Quick and Plaxico and Anthony Castonzo and Morgan Moses and a whole mess o' Buckeyes like Eddie George. And Mel Turpin. And Jerry Richardson and Kevin Plank and The Big Lebowski. And Weenie Reynolds, our fraternity buddy. 

It's also known to me as the school in the Virginia Prep League we'd play every fall. My junior year we lost to them at home, 10-7, on a last-second FG. So sad, as it would have meant we registered two wins instead of one that special season. A year later we bused up to FUMA, focused on revenge. We trailed at the half, 53-0. It didn't get better from there. The kids working the chains (the best part of life at FUMA, I'd gauge) got into the game against us in the 4th quarter. So sad, as it would have meant we registered two wins instead of one that special season. 

Back to the original point... I hope the WFT takes him at #19. Speaking of that stupid acronym, team president Jason Wright says “Washington Football Team under consideration as permanent name, cites fan sentiment.” This isn't even in the Top 10 Idiotic Things Daniel Snyder's Team Ever Did, but it's up there. Morons.

Happy Birthday to Maimonides (whb 886), Jethro Tull (280), Francisco Goya (whb 275), Vincent Van Gogh (whb 168), Sean O'Casey (whb 141), Sonny Boy Williamson (whb 107), John Astin (91), Eric Clapton (76), Warren Beatty (84), Paul Reiser (65), Charlie Weis (65), MC Hammer (59), Tracy Chapman (57), Ian Ziering (57), Piers Morgan (56), Celine Dion (53), Secretariat (whb 51), Norah Jones (42), Sergio Ramos (35), Richard Sherman (33), Brooke Bush (21), and, I'm guessing, lots of other people. You're having cocktails and a fine feast of food at your house for an extended evening of conversation and post-meal activities of your choice (anything from Uno to leg wrestling); which four (4) of these people are you inviting to join you? If you like, you can pick the version of them from any age/era of their lives.

Norfolk brewery to host adult-only Easter egg hunt. Did anyone else's mind go to a dirtier place than the reality is? It's beer tickets in the eggs. And candy and toys, which aren't that adult. I expect there should at least be some cussing. Maybe some drunks. Probably not nudity. I guess they just hate kids. Fair enough.

All the news that's fit to print tells us that “the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention warned of 'impending doom' from a potential fourth surge of the pandemic.” Keep it wrapped until you're vaxxed. Godspeed, good people.

That said, whenever our annual summit resumes being in-person, we have the sign at the door, ready to roll. 

3-12 . . . popout (2b) plus injury

A handful of Gheorghies have partaken in the decades-old board game Strat-o-Matic baseball through the years.  We played the dice and cards board game as kids; we now play the online version against each other.  It's a bit of a cult thing, and it can be addictive.

The premise is that most players from most seasons of pro baseball are represented in card form as parsed out by seasons.  So everyone from Babe Ruth's 1927 season to Mookie Wilson's 1981 season are reflected not just in statistics, but in outcomes for dice rolls.  They are facing real pitchers from history, so look out when Mookie steps in against Koufax's 1963 card.  You pick a team from history or create a mish-mash team, make the lineups and rotations, and play it out.

It's a great game for kids.  And adults with kids.  Okay, and adults.

Yep.  It's pretty nerdy.  Any surprise that William and Mary alums like it?

I was introduced to Strat-o-Matic by my grandfather and uncles, and they routinely hammered my teams after I was given the game as a Christmas gift.  I had the 1979 season.  They could make the Orioles beat my Pirates every time and mocked me incessantly.  They're bullies.

In the summer after our sophomore year, Rob and I lived in Williamsburg and took some classes.  And worked as Pizza Hut delivery guys.  And drank 40's.  And played out individual seasons from the 1985 set, him with the Red Sox and me with the Mets.  No idea how our teams ended up doing, but I can tell you how we ended up doing with the ladies that summer.  And I just remember the catcalls from our fratres across the den as we occupied the dining room table with dice, cards, and homemade box scores all summer.  It didn't hold up to cool-guy scrutiny 26 years ago and still doesn't, but we had fun.

We even broke it out at an Outer Banks Fishing Trip one year.  '86 version, and a Buckner error cost the Sox the rematch.  Uncanny.  Jerry was a witness.

Now it's online.  For a small fee you can get into a league against either your dorky buddies or strangers, draft a team with a salary cap (hey, a novel idea) and have a go.  What can I say, it's amusing.

And now there's a documentary released this year about the game.  It's interesting to see which big league players new and old are also Strat-o-Matic players.  Anyway, it's a neat little game that has lasted for 50 years.  Not bad.