Tagged: Sharon Waxman

Color me… not too bad

Hello again out there in cyberspace.  It has been another fairly uneventful week, but not necessarily a bad or non-productive one.  Our week on the road was much the same as our previous week at home, again taking two of three games from the Connecticut Defenders and again losing two of three games to the New Britain Rock Cats to again end the week at 3-3 overall.  As I said previously, I’m not sure that any of us are happy with losing a series, especially after we started the road trip on such a positive note, but having a .500 week is a luxury that we have earned by being 8.5 games up on second place and 10 on third place and a playoff spot at this point of the season.  I also had a similarly disappointing performance, frustratingly appearing in only one game during the trip.  In the first inning of my appearance I struck out two guys with a runner in scoring position t keep the game tied in the ninth but then gave up a run to lose the game in the tenth.  Again, I came out of the gates with a good performance but ended on a disappointing note in giving up the run and then having to sit on it for the duration of the trip.  So from both a personal and team perspective we will strive for better performance moving forward as we continue to chip away at our magic number (13 for the playoffs, 14 for first place), while realizing that a .500 couple of weeks is no cause for worries at this point of the season.

 

Off the field there hasn’t been a whole lot to report.  As the season gets to this point every year and the body starts to get a bit tired I tend to cut back on the extra curriculars and take it pretty easy away from baseball.  Probably the most notable thing that has happened over the last week is that I finally sold my first painting.  It was one of those things that I decided to do based on my trip to the Akron Art Museum and seeing all the terrible pieces that passed for art hanging there.  I figured I could make something as good as most of the things there and rather than just sit around saying it I decided to put my money where my mouth is, go forward with an attempt to start putting color to canvas, and paint something.  I won’t say that the result was a modern masterpiece or anything, but I think the results were pretty good (as good as most similar stuff anyhow).  Anyway, based on this initial success I am planning on doing a few more paintings (probably with an eye towards subsidizing my book collecting habits) and hopefully I’ll have another painting done in the next few weeks.  Other than selling the painting, the main excitement of the week was finishing a few books on the road trip.  I finished off R.A. Scotti’s Vanished Smile about the theft of the Mona Lisa, Fury the first of what will probably be the first of many novels I read by Salman Rushdie, and possibly the best book I’ve read this year: Loot by Sharon Waxman.  I’ll be sure to update you again sometime during the upcoming days during our series with playoff hopefuls Bowie and Erie and until then I leave you with a poem.

 

Kelp

by Jeffrey Yang

 

How easy it is to lose oneself

in a kelp forest. Between

canopy leaves, sunlight filters thru

the water surface; nutrients

bring life where there’d other-

wise be barren sea; a vast eco-

system breathes. Each

being being

being’s link.

 

Fields of Wonder

Hello again out there in cyberspace.  I am happy to report that things are looking up since I last checked in.  The Erie team that seemed invincible in their own park was noticeably more so back home in Akron.  We swept all four games from Erie and didn’t leave any of the outcomes in doubt, outscoring the SeaWolves 34-9 overall in the series.  After the Erie series we went on the road to Binghamton and rolled through the series.  The final game was a tight affair from start to finish resulting in a 3-2 victory, but the first two games were fairly lopsided with our offense propelling us out to early leads and the pitching holding on from there.  The wins were badly needed for morale after our string of prior losses and they also pushed our “magic number” to clinch a playoff berth into the range where it becomes worth keeping track of at 26.  As long as we keep our heads down and keep chugging along we’ll be through that in no time (hopefully).  The week was also a good one for me as I had three appearances and didn’t allow a run, but more importantly I stranded all five runners I inherited.  Overall, it was a good week for both myself and the team to build upon for the last month of the season and into the playoffs.

 

My non-baseball activities over the last week have not been overly exciting.  I finished a few more books from the huge unread pile I have that I can’t stop myself from adding to.  The Last Dickens by Matthew Pearl was an interesting and engaging historical novel about the circumstances surrounding Charles Dickens’ last novel that I had been meaning to read for a while, and I also started and finished two Pulitzer Prize winning poetic works: Native Guard by Natasha Tretheway and Practical Gods by Carl Dennis.  Also, on the day off yesterday I watched the movie Waltz with Bashir while I was laying out a painting.  The movie was excellent, probably the best movie I’ve seen from last year.  The painting…didn’t turn out exactly as I had hoped it would.  A couple of the colors didn’t work out as I would have liked, but since I’m basically doing it as a joke anyway I’m not sure it really matters.  Well, I think I’m going to call that good for now so I can go start in on a new book (Loot by Sharon Waxman), do some of the cleaning up I intended to do yesterday and then head to the field.  Until next time, I leave you with a poem by the great Langston Hughes and encourage you to visit this website to hear Hughes explain his inspiration for the poem and also give a reading of it.

 

The Negro Speaks of Rivers    

by Langston Hughes

 

I’ve known rivers:

I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the

     flow of human blood in human veins.

 

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

 

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

     went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy

     bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

 

I’ve known rivers:

Ancient, dusky rivers.

 

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.