I Love Baseball. Why Love Baseball?

The start of my history with baseball is really not terribly uncommon, I suppose. Like many autistic children, I cycled through special interests with an inspired level of fervor. First it was dinosaurs and you had better believe that I learned to spell pachycephalosaurus when I was five years old. They were so cool! Then it was animals, where I was like Lisa Simpson in her efforts to teach Maggie that nature doesn't stop at the barnyard. Pangolins and tapirs and axolotls, oh my!

Then my mom brought home some packs of 1989 Topps and a whole new world was opened to me. At that point, I was in first grade and knew basically nothing about sports in spite of my (soon-to-be-absentee) father being an ardent fan of basketball in particular. However, these cards were a treasure trove of new wonders that piqued my interest in so many ways. Different teams had different colors in their uniforms, which was ably denoted in Topps' design that year. The variety of photo types - both posed and action - depicted a world that was both foreign and fascinating. While a lot of the facts on the back of the cards were fairly generic in terms of dates on which certain feats were achieved, others gave a glimpse into hobbies and interests. And then there were the statistics. Oh my goodness, the statistics. To say that I was enamored would be a massive understatement. Including the things that I am currently working on, the amount of stat-related projects that I have undertaken almost exclusively for my own enjoyment over the past three-plus decades has been too large for me to estimate. Starting in second grade, I was the kid who knew way too much about baseball. For over 30 years, I played and coached in hundreds of games, collected an absurd amount of baseball cards, and based a huge part of my life around the sport. Today, I am the girl in the rando community who knows way too much about baseball - and will happily talk about it on end. And yet, in spite of all of this, I frequently ask myself one simple question: why do I love baseball?

Gary Carter redeem from Knucks

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As I have talked with more people from my various communities, many of whom are queer, I have heard no shortage of stories about how the sports well was poisoned for them at a young age. For many, a fixation on hypercompetitiveness by both adults and peers made what was supposed to be a fun experience into an ordeal that was stressful at best, agonizing at worst. Similar to school as a whole, differences in personalities, body types, athleticism, et al. are often stigmatized in sports, especially on local levels. Professional sports often feature some truly dreadful individuals and organizations who are nonetheless celebrated for their talent, skill, and on-field success, which can make it extremely hard to relate to those in the arena and give a very legitimate reason for tuning out.

These stories tend to be disheartening to me on multiple levels, one of which is that I can very much see myself in the shared stories despite of the difference of specific experiences. Particularly once puberty started to get thrown into the mix, relating with peers was often brutal, especially those from my own grade. During my time coaching, highly aggressive parents and fellow coaches often pulled the focus away from creating cultures of teamwork and fun, with that trend veering more and more frequently to the realm of abuse as the years went on and I moved up the levels. I cannot say how many times it was pointed out to me over the years that I was "different" from other people in the baseball community, with the sentiment sometimes even coming from individuals that I had just met. While it should be noted that many of these framings were intended to be positive, it can be draining to frequently hear that folks are taking note of how atypical you seem. Especially at the high school level, being in exclusively male-dominated spaces rarely felt comfortable and on many occasions left me feeling a lack of safety that was (and still is) hard to define. And pro sports, where to begin? Let's go with 'the Mets not only bring back Jeurys Familia and José Reyes, but celebrate them despite their history of domestic abuse' as a catch-all for how readily it gets demonstrated just how little these organizations' ethics resemble my own.

By any measure, there were a myriad of occasions in which it would have been more than fair for me to join the litany of folks who found themselves sidelined and disenfranchised in an environment that ostensibly should be for everyone. I observed recently that I feel as though I know how to endure and know how to survive, but I do not know how to live, which could be easily used to explain why I put up with so much negativity. Particularly during the final few years at RHS, I do feel as though there was a kernel of truth to that notion, as I knew that the situation was often uncomfortable and yet I could stick it out because, you know, baseball. However, I do not think that this is actually the answer.

                          Pat Borders redeem from Echo       Andrés Galarraga redeem from Royale

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Not like it truly matters, but I actually wrote this section quite a bit differently before realizing that I was getting too verbose and losing track of what I really hoped to convey. When I actually cut through the noise, I came to realize that a very simple answer actually existed: in spite of the slings and arrows that came from the lowest points in my time with the game, there have been so many worthwhile moments and relationships that baseball brought into my life that have nothing to do with wins/trophies for me to downplay what the sport has meant.

While it is not even close to being an exhaustive list, here are some of the things that most readily come to mind from my time in baseball thus far:

- I mentioned it years ago on this blog, but one of my teammates during my eight-year-old season was a boy named Elijah who struggled mightily to make contact even in soft toss, let alone off of a pitching machine. Given that at bats at this level exclusively ended via strikeout or by putting the ball in play, it was rough to see a teammate go down on strikes literally every time. Our coaches devised a plan to basically measure out where the pitches were coming in that day and have Elijah put his bat on that plane, which eventually resulted in two balls being hit into fair territory. The second of those two pieces of contact may have only rolled slightly down the first base line, but it stayed fair and Elijah beat it out for his lone hit. That was easily the best moment of the season for every member of our whole team.

- While not all of my youth coaches were experts at instruction, the vast majority were nonetheless great people and treated the kids with kindness. This included my mom, who, despite raising three young kids, twice took the time to coach me in the sport that I loved. On each occasion, she was the lone woman coaching and I admired her so much (still do - please don't cry, Emily).

- I made an out in t-ball by popping up into the upturned glove of a fielder who was not looking at the infield and hit my lone homerun the following year in part to a left fielder playing with the dirt instead of noticing a line drive hit his way. It seems like both of those kids were having their own kinds of fun.

- My 13-U Babe Ruth coach once pulled me aside to tell me that I was the best teammate to the other 11 players on the squad, but the worst teammate to myself. He'd likely say the same thing today, LOL, but it really meant a lot that someone recognized that I tried my absolute best to be a positive teammate to others.

- Despite the fact that I was a high school student, Al and Don (the coaches of Squash's when I began coaching) never treated me as though I did not belong there and were willing to let me handle things like scouting and individual instruction that I have still seen few coaches entrust to young coaches. I tried to treat the former players who returned to help me coach with the same level of consideration.

- The running jokes. Oh, the running jokes. From the "Golden Glove" fielding competition on those early Squash's teams to José Lima telling the kids to "look him up on the internet, Lima was great!" at a Bridgeport Bluefish game to Jack/Ryan bringing huge amounts of levity to our 2018 JV team as juniors, and everything in between.

- The conversations. One thing that I tried to never lose sight of from the start of my coaching tenure to the end was the idea that people are people. They might be kids in school, they might be adults making obscene salaries, but no matter what, they are all people. Especially in the roughest years at RHS, I had a lot of very real talks with players about stuff that meant way more than statistics and win-loss records, and those discussions hold a lot of meaning to me (and hopefully did to them).

- Three of the people who meant the most to me in term of friendship and mentorship passed away over the span of 10 years, but their influences still hit me in worthwhile ways to this day. I met Peter when I took over as the new coach of his son Sage's team in 2010 and, despite a disability suffered in college and having no real athletic background, Peter was still out the field every practice to try to help make the game his son loved more fun (while offering up his chair in the dugout to any player who wanted a seat(. I still tear up thinking about how he thanked me for making him feel like part of a team, which had always been elusive for him, and he swiftly became a dear friend to both me and my mom. Peter passed away just hours after giving me a ride home in 2011 and us making plans to visit his art restoration work at Yale in the near future... Peter's chair would become a fixture in our dugout for every game for the decade that followed and it was an honor to tell the new players about the lovely person who we were remembering.

I coached with Ken so many times over the years that I do not actually know the number, as I'm pretty sure that his son Daniel played more games on my teams than anyone else that I coached. While he was a little more intense than me, we meshed well and always struck a good balance together as a coaching tandem. Even after Daniel moved up the ranks, Ken remained a good friend, mentor, and even helped me get involved in coaching high school again. I mentioned earlier that my father had almost no positive impact on my life and I have long struggled to find the worthwhile male role models, but Ken probably came the closest to being someone in my life whose impact on me at times felt the most like what I wish that a father figure could have offered while never once being patronizing. His passing was a total shock and came not long after we had been talking about my hiring at RHS.

Dave was twice my all-star coach in Little League, an older guy who simply loved the sport and kept coaching for decades after his own kids had aged out of the program. I remember him giving me rides to away games in his classic convertible, being willing to talk about the game for hours, and having the most impeccable architect's handwriting on his lineup cards (that I emulate to the best of my abilities). In his 80s and having been away from coaching for over a decade, Dave nonetheless reached back out to me to fill a "scorekeeper" role in the mid-2010s, an offer of which I gladly accepted. He treated the kids so well and did way more to improve their experience than merely keeping score, that's for sure. While it was rarely a shock to hear about elders passing in 2020, it definitely made a terrible year even worse. Despite losing all three of these wonderful people, though, the positive impact that they made on me before their passings cannot be understated.

(Also, my aim earlier to not cry completely fell to pieces here.)

- In my 2025 "coming out" post to the people in my broader life, I made a point during the section concerning my fairly abrupt departure at RHS to say that the kinds of things listed above were what had been missing during those final handful of seasons. The former players who reached out were not only uniformly supportive of me being trans, they also said that when they caught up with friends and reminisced about baseball, the conversation always focused on the fun/funny stuff and the support that I had provided - not the championships. All of that meant a lot.

Kitty Bear redeem from Tank

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For the last few years, I have been trying to find myself, which has been a tricky process filled with its ups and downs. In spite of the bits of progress, I still felt like there was something else missing even should transition, home, community, et al. all work out and I eventually realized that I have also been trying to find baseball. I have been asked by many people if coaching is in the cards and my answer is always a definite maybe, although I am definitely not mentally at that point right now and figuring out coaching in a new area while also being trans is stressful on its own. There is a women's softball league in town and I may still pursue that option as an additional sporting outlet, but I have also seen that queer-friendly does not always equal trans-friendly and recent local backlash against drag performers makes me less than eager to find out if the folks involved are actually cool.

However, a friend on Bluesky recently passed along an article that she thought might be up my alley. The subject of the piece was "tgirl baseball," all-transwomen baseball teams that were popping up around the country. I had to slow down while reading, as the events being described sounded almost ideal in their inherent imperfection. For many of these teams, the level of experience of players ranged from folks who had played from childhood until adulthood to those who had never played previously. The small victories - making contact, trying out positions, supporting each other - were the real successes; score and stats were mostly afterthoughts. There also seemed to be an actual sense of community around the games, with some folks playing little or not at all, yet still being just as much a part of the team as a whole.

In the span of a few days, I went from not even knowing that such groups existed to believing pretty steadfastly that I had found the kind of baseball that I wanted back in my life. Figuring out how to make that happen on a local level in a new place is more of a challenge, which has resulted in me reaching out to a bunch of folks to learn about the individual steps that they took for the many moving parts involved with making their respective groups come to fruition. I was also fortunate to be able to join in with Albany Queer Baseball this past weekend and, in spite of my social anxiety doing its usual thing and still not being able to run post-surgery, it was an amazing time. Being back on the field felt so good, the people were so kind/inclusive, and it was simply an occasion in which the "right" things about baseball were the focus - including a mid-practice trip to the ice cream truck. ;)

While my summer already felt gobbled up by recovery from the aforementioned surgery, it's definitely also a little bittersweet to not discover queer baseball until the weather is starting to turn. However, I feel pretty good about the potential for this avenue being what I have been looking for after so many years. We are holding a pretty simple "community catch" day this coming Sunday in Oneonta and I hope that at least one other person wants to come by the field, toss around the ball, and chat. I am also super excited to go back to Albany the following weekend for the season-ending Halloween game - although my social anxiety about being new might now be overrun by my complicated history with costumes. :X I love baseball and think that I finally found it again.

Arya/Emily redeem from Shin

What's in a Name?

Names are an interesting concept if one really thinks about it. From the time we are young, identifying people, places, and things by their names is a key aspect of not only learning on its own, but also finding ways to navigate the world in which we live. For the most part, these identifiers are considered to be set, static titles. As with most aspects of language, conveying meaning and gaining shared understanding does have significant benefits in terms of interpersonal interaction.

Most things that we recognize by name are inanimate in nature, lacking in consciousness and ability to consent. Many other living beings, such as animals and plants, do not share our language or concept of identity in the way that we know it, leaving it again to humans to engage in the process of assigning and disseminating their various names. However, the concept of names for people has always fascinated me for the manner in which it plays out. For the vast majority of folks, they are named at birth by their parents and, save for some minor tweaks such as nicknames ('Matt' instead of 'Matthew,' 'Peg' instead of 'Margaret') or going by one's assigned middle name rather than one's assigned first name, that's just the way it is for the rest of their lives.

Of course, this convention makes sense at birth given that a baby does not yet possess the language skills or the levels of wordly awareness that they will even just a few years later. What is intriguing is that even once these attributes develop, "their" name is still usually one that has been assigned rather than one of their own choosing. For trans people, this concept can prove to be particularly vexing, as assigned names typically align with a gender to which one does not relate and can feel like a further reminder of the lack of autonomy over our own lives that society often tries to claim exists. That, however, is an illusion to be smashed.

                     Cecil Fielder redeem from Royale               Derek Bell redeem from Will

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Quite a few years ago, I spent some time compiling a list of first names that I liked. Most of them started with a vowel with a lighter sound and I used several for character creation in games. The common throughline, of course, was also that they were all feminine names. It was the one thing related to my ideation of preferred gender that I remember getting "caught" with, as my mom found the list and inquired about it. I played it off by claiming that it was a list of prospective names should I ever have a daughter and that I simply had not yet gotten around to the names for boys. That was a lie, of course. Besides the fact that I never had plans to have children, there was never going to be a list of boys names. I had already been assigned one of those and never really wanted it, in spite of my mom's best intentions.

During my process of finally figuring things out two years ago, I read many stories from other trans people (mostly trans women) about their own experiences. Two that stood out for me on this particular topic were Mae Dean's comic about self-realization and Doc Impossible's personal story that springboards from having also read Mae's comic [TW: later posts in Doc Impossible/Zoë's series of articles do include considerations of self-harm]. In both instances, each woman had one name in the back of their respective self-consciouses that they would ultimately pick for their chosen name. This got me thinking back to the list of names in a concrete fashion for the first time in a long time, rather than it just being something that I had compiled and slightly referenced.

Unlike Mae and Zoë, there wasn't a single name that was emblazened in my brain as one that I had specifically singled out for use. It's not an exaggeration to say that there were probably several names that I would have been okay with using as my own; they had made the list, after all. However, as I further considered the notion that this would indeed be my name, I kept coming back to the point that I wanted it to be my name. There were plenty of other names on the list that I also liked, yet were ones that I associated with other women. Elizabeth was my grandmother's name, I knew several Emmas and Ericas/Erikas, Anne was the name of a lot of adults that I had known over the years (they weren't all names that started with an 'e'...), et al. Aside from a couple of minor acquaintances, I really did not know anyone else named Emily. It struck me right and felt good.

Even after I made the decision that Emily was my choice for name going forward, it's not as though things instantly changed. Sharing that this was how I wanted to be known going forward was still scary, both in terms of what reaction I might get as well as the fact that, to me, it felt like just saying the name made this real. However, the responses that I received were uniformly positive and even seemingly silly stuff like changing one's email address or website username to reflect the change gave me a positive jolt. I went from being very reticent to wondering why it had to take so long to be able to see a probate judge in order to make a legal name change. That day did eventually come, though, and getting to officially sign something using my new name was so unexpectedly cathartic. I cried a little bit when we got home from the courthouse, but it was okay. Emily had a good, happy cry that day. ;)

                                                       Frank Thomas redeem from Zax

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 It would not be something that I write if it was all sunshine and rainbows, of course. One thing that transphobes love to do is deadname trans people, which is typically enacted as a means of control and authority. This actually strikes a stark parallel to the world of sports, where athletes who have converted to Islam in particular have often had their chosen names be ignored. Think about how, even if 2026, you will hear Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Muhammad Ali casually referred to by the names that they have not used in 60 years, while Ahmad Rashad was repeatedly called by his old name before getting traded to the Vikings and having coach Bud Grant taking the care to actually respect Rashad's personal/religious autonomy.

When you come back to the initial point in this post, though, it feels ludicrous to me that anyone would have the temerity to tell people - trans or otherwise - what their names are. It is particularly wild when it occurs online and the folks hurling insults are utilizing pseudonyms that I'm pretty sure are not on their birth certificates. However, I believe that there's a lot in a name and a lot of value in being able to call yourself something that makes you feel whatever positive sentiment one wishes a name to bestow. Whether that name is one your have chosen, one that was picked for you, or anything in between, it's yours to decide and yours to hold. Even though my name wasn't always Emily, I've always been Emily and I am happy to get to speak the name aloud. :)

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In between posts, we've had a ton of redeems on my Twitch channel, going over 100 custom cards in the gallery. That triggered a switchover from the 1952 Topps design to 1987 Topps, which has definitely been a fun change of pace. I've also gone through way too many archives and found a bevy of other designs that I can semi-replicate with my stellar MS Paint skills, which should help keep up some variety going forward. In IRL news, I threw on Tuesday for the first time since 2024 and it was great. Hopefully that can be the kickstart toward playing something next spring!

     

                                                      Kirt Manwaring redeem by Ahab

A Return...of Sorts

Well, um, who saw this coming? Who saw any of *gestures broadly* any of this coming? It is actually pretty wild to take note of the fact that my last post came nearly seven years ago. So, has anything changed in that span? Um, well, let's see:

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- When we last left off in 2019, things were kind of rough on the health front (in large part due to my still-unresolved sinus problems) and I was coming off an incredibly stressful high school baseball season in which the Varsity coaches had been fired for abuse, which proved to be a greater betrayal of trust to me emotionally than I would have guessed. Due largely to the backing of way more folks than I would of guessed, I wound up applying for and getting the Varsity head coach position for the 2020 season. So, maybe there existed the chance for things to improve on that end, right?

- So, um, then 2020 happened... A worldwide pandemic that shuts down most aspects of our society, kills millions, and continues to present a health crisis with major short-term and long-term implications certainly can change things. Having grown up in what I call "survival mode" for most of my youth and large swaths of adulthood, covid most certainly hit on all of the horrible anxieties associated with just trying to get through things and literal survival felt paramount over anything else. I definitely don't feel like I'm anywhere close to being on the same level emotionally or motivationally that I was prior to the onset of the pandemic, nor has my concentration been as good as it was pre-covid. :/

- The years that followed after things opened back up were kind of a mélange that really ran together in terms of sameness. I did wind up coaching Varsity for four seasons, including winning a regular season conference title, knocking off a top-seeded team in states, and seeing a couple of players that I coached get drafted in recent years. If I am being fully open, though, it never really felt fun. My focus for coaching was always about team building and positive effort/motivation, which led to much success over the years without me ever having to fixate on wins and losses as a primary motivating factor (which I disagree with as a concept). Unfortunately, the hyper-privatization of travel teams and instruction in a very affluent area of CT led to very few kids entering high school in a good position to actually play for a team, as they were told by parents and private coaches that their own stats and being visible for college coaches was all that mattered. Please contain your surprise here, but almost none of these kids actually played in college. After getting stuck with an antagonizing assistant coach and receiving abuse from parents (as well as total outsiders), the enjoyment was sucked dry and this became what I never wanted coaching to be - a job that I was only doing because it loosely involved baseball. Following the 2024 campaign, the situation was so atrocious and other aspects in my life were so far from what I wanted that it was time to move on. Honestly, it *should* have happened earlier, but I kept holding on in hopes that the environment would revert to what it was when things were fun and/or that I could fix it. That just wasn't going to happen, unfortunately. I miss baseball and coaching a lot, but what I miss is the dynamic that existed closer to 2010 than 2024. That realization was important.

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- So, speaking of realizations, let's get to the biggest one, which was that the other significant life event for me in 2024 was coming out as being trans. I've never strayed from heavy topics on this blog and won't start now, although I don't think that too many details are really necessary. The Cliff's Notes version is that while I was aware for years (even decades) of most of the characteristics that made me trans, I did not know that they were pieces to an actual puzzle. After allowing myself to experience aspects of femininity that I had repressed, a lot of things made sense and I felt levels of positive self-valuation that had not existed since elementary school. With the support of my family, friends, and a gaming community that I had met through A Link to the Past Randomizer (ALTTPR), I was able to try out things in more low stakes environments. The interesting thing is that even when the down moments hit or I was faced with more momentous aspects of transitioning, there was not a doubt that this was the right thing for me.

I changed my name to Emily in the fall of 2024 and have taken a great deal more steps since then toward becoming a person who feels like she is actually me, rather than just trying to muddle through life in a role that never fit. Again, it's certainly not all sunshine and rainbows, but the differences that I feel in terms of openness, comfort, and self-care are night and day from what they were just a few years ago. I am still trying to navigate this new version of the world in which I find myself and life in this country can often be exceptionally cruel toward trans people, which is a farce based on nothing except blind hatred and bigotry. I am happy - and even proud - to be trans, though, as I'm literally only living my life doing most of the same things that I have, just in a mental and physical frame of existence that actually makes getting up each day feel okay rather than trash. If that's considered a negative rather than a positive for someone, I reckon that I feel sorry for them.

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So, what is the motivation for coming back to this and potentially reviving this blog in some fashion? Well, it's twofold. One, I have started to finally again feel the impetus to write for the first time in a long time. I did briefly start a new blog when I was beginning my transition, but things were so hectic at that time that my focus simply wasn't there and navigating the vast amount of changes that were taking place at that time took most of my energy. However, after a pretty packed spring that included a move and surgery, things have finally settled down just enough for me to focus again.

Secondly, I mentioned the great support that I have received from the ALTTPR community, which is the first larger group of people that I've ever been a part of in which I have truly felt as though I fully fit. I have developed somewhat of a reputation of being the girl who knows way too much about sports and created a redeem on my Twitch channel for folks to ask me to talk about various athletes (mostly baseball). It's been rather well-received and, for me at least, a ton of fun, especially in terms of filling in some of dead air that can take place while playing rando seeds. I had wanted to make baseball cards for all of the redeems, but initially lost the list. However, I recently found it and set to making the cards, which have been sprinkled throughout this post and can be viewed in full on the sidebar. Given that I have neither a worthwhile image editing program nor much artistic aptitude, these are in the style of 1952 Topps since I can create them in MS Paint, LOL. I'm nonetheless pretty happy with these cards, had fun seeking out cool photos, and enjoyed getting to include my friends' avatars on the nameplate.

As for everything else, well, I guess that I'll figure it out as we go. While I have continued to read other folks's blogs over my hiatus, my level of engagement wasn't super high and I haven't done too much on the collecting front since the pandemic. I was making some progress toward consolidating toward players/sets that I want to keep and move others, but, um, my collection is presently several hours away, so that part will still be TBD. For now, though, I might just write what comes to mind and throw in images of the newest cards that join the array regardless of if they fit the theme of the piece. Something is better than nothing and I'm mostly just happy to be motivated enough to write, even if it's just a little. There's a lot of folks for whom am thankful for helping get me back to this place. 🧡

The Autumn Wind

The Autumn Wind is a pirate
Blustering in from sea,
With a rollicking song, he sweeps along,
Swaggering boisterously.
His face is weather beaten.
He wears a hooded sash,
With a silver hat about his head,
And a bristling black mustache.

He growls as he storms the country,
A villain big and bold.
And the trees all shake and quiver and quake,
As he robs them of their gold.

The Autumn Wind is a raider,
Pillaging just for fun.
He'll knock you 'round and upside down,
And laugh when he's conquered and won.

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I was going to again lead off this post with a disclaimer/apology regarding the fact that there was yet again a sizable gap of time between posts, but I think that the crux of the narrative itself will be more than sufficient. As noted the first time in which the rhythm of these postings was disrupted, concentration levels and energy are key for me when it comes to being able to be locked into writing, particularly since my writing style is rather averse to doing things piecemeal. When it comes specifically to this blog, it certainly has not been for lack of interest or oversight, as I have often thought about the planned construct of future topics and have consistently read others' works. It is also not due to a deficit of topics, as I have a lengthy list from which to draw and received two really amazing trade packages from other bloggers that I am eager to display - both as a thank you to those who took the time to find/send me cool stuff as well as the likelihood that many who read this site will also enjoy seeing the contents of these packages.

Over the last few weeks, however, it has been a major struggle to find the groove necessary in order to sit down and pen anything that I would consider to be worthwhile in terms of depth and/or length. This is due to a multitude of dynamics, none of which can necessarily be pinned down as being *the* cause for any issues that I have experienced. The outset of a new school year has certain brought with it more commitments and obligations than did the summer - this despite the fact that I have not even done any subbing at the schools thus far. I help run the local rec basketball leagues for high schoolers, which is a very fun affair on the whole, yet also includes a lot of small responsibilities and events that can add up as minor stressors often do. Similarly, this has been a year in which small injuries, illnesses, and irritations have almost comically popped up one after another. In addition to a nagging nasal issue that I have had since January (first diagnosed as sinusitis, then allergies, now currently ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), I have experienced a ton of short-term muscle pulls, allergic reactions, anxiety spikes, and other concerns that would go away just in time for the next one to arrive. Again, I feel as though I cannot really complain given that most of these ailments did not have much staying power, thereby paling in comparison to the issues experienced by those who live with chronic pain. It has merely been consistently obnoxious to see the cliché of "it is always something" play out with such regularity.

1991 Pro Set Premium
Howie Long

More than anything, though, the issue that causes hiatuses such as these or delays in completing certain open-ended tasks is tied to sleep. To the best of my recollection, I slept pretty well prior to the advent of my concussions, but that dynamic has gradually worsened as time has progressed. I have been prescribed a myriad of sleep aids and tried various dosage amounts of melatonin, most of which initially worked at helping me fall asleep, failed to permit me to consistently sleep through the night, and swiftly lost their level of efficacy very quickly. I have played around with so many other variables in an effort to find that ideal zone that will facilitate quality sleep, yet it often remains elusive. There are times in which it is easier for me to sleep when the temperature is cool and I bundle up in blankets, other times it is preferable for the temperature to be warm and cooling down eases me into sleep. The very same day, neither thing could be true and I lie awake for hours despite feeling exhausted. It is perplexing.

The two variables that do consistently help facilitate sleep, though, are finding a way to block out as much light as possible and having some manner of ambient noise. The latter is easy in the spring and summer months, as I can simply turn on a fan to both cool off the room and serve as a blocker of the many individual noises that can serve as distractions as I try to put my mind to rest. In the northeast, however, this week brought with it the reality that autumn is indeed here, as temperatures dropped nearly 30 degrees from Wednesday to Thursday and, save for a minor push back into the 70s tomorrow, it looks as though cooler weather will be here to stay. As such, keeping a fan on as temperatures dip into the low 50s/high 40s at night becomes both impractical and unwise. Finding an alternative, however, has been surprisingly difficult. After my grandfather's passing, I inherited his white noise machine, only to discover that all of the supposedly distinct sounds that it made hit my ears like a jackhammer blasting into concrete - even when played at the lowest setting and muffled under a pile of clothes. Other efforts at playing artificial background noise have proven similarly fruitless, which tends to lead to many long, restless nights in the winter.

This week did, however, remind me of just how restful my sleep can be when the natural ambient noise is conducive to creating a positive sleep rhythm. The aforementioned temperature drop mid-week was due to what felt like the first lengthy rain storm that we have had here in quite a while, one that was accompanied by a whistling wind that, at least to me, is distinctly found in the fall. While I also love to sleep during summer's thunderstorms, they are characterized more by power and force than anything else, with this past summer's storms often being fairly short-lived. In contrast, while the autumn wind can certainly create a feeling of rawness for those who meet it head-on, I love the manner in which its interplay with the rain creates a strangely restful milieu. I slept pretty well for parts of Thursday and again as it rained today, finally providing enough focus to get back to some of the things that have fallen through the cracks. The autumn wind may well be a raider, but it was also my friend this week.

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Although I no longer watch or support the NFL given the many, many reasons that it has provided as evidence that it values money and power over humanity (I also fully acknowledge that the other professional sports leagues, including the NCAA, are guilty of many similar issues), it would be wrong to pretend as though it did not also bring some positive things into my life. Fairly close to the top of the list would have to be the early works of NFL Films, whose on-field camera work, pointed narrative voice-overs by John Facenda, and inclusion of orchestral music composed by Sam Spence were truly remarkable to experience even several decades after their initial airings. While most TV broadcasts of sports contests in the 1960s and 1970s were shot from oft-grainy fixed camera angles well above the fields of play, with perhaps a quick and jarring cut to an on-field/on-court angle, NFL Films showcased game action in ways that had never before been available to viewers. Between zoomed shots of the actions courtesy of a litany of field level cameramen and clips of coaches/players reacting on the sidelines, the Sabol family was able to collect copious amounts of footage that was then painstakingly edited into the sports equivalent of works of art.

While I would love to take credit for the poem at the outset of this post, the Wiki link notes that it was inspired by a poem by Mary Jane Carr, with Steve Sabol's adapted version then read by the aforementioned Facenda. I listened the the NFL Films soundtrack on loop many times over the years, with there being too many tracks to list as recommendations. However, "The Autumn Wind" was always my favorite for the manner in which it interwove clever writing with Facenda's powerful reading style prior to segueing into a track that builds momentum at almost the perfect pace. The finished product laid over video is what I would consider to be art in the manner that its were painstakingly pieced together so as to form a cohesive and heavily layered whole. It seems fitting to make note of this level of effort this week in particular, as it has been one in which another iconic sports entity from years past, Sports Illustrated, was purchased and subsequently gutted by one of the far too many soulless corporate raider types that overpopulate our society.

Similarly, the NFL now fully owns NFL Films, with the output definitely paling in comparison to what was produced during the company's time in the Sabols' care. This was not necessarily as malevolent as case as SI's demise given that the NFL did not wantonly lay off copious amounts of staff and lie about wanting to increase quality of writing via turning a respectable publication into a content mill staffed by underpaid freelancers in the fashion that the ghouls who purchased SI have done. However, it does feel fair to lament in some fashion an era that does not care terribly much about quality as long as short-term quantity yields enough profit to enrich those in charge while cutting the jobs of those whose hard work produced results far more substantive and memorable than a Top Ten list. Unfortunately, you can find plenty of those in NFL Films' current output and will surely be able to view similar content at SI if its new owners consider that result to be preferable to providing its employees health care. As Ray Ratto ably notes in one of the links above, the type of brilliance and artistry once found in outlets like SI and NFL Films still exists; it will just take time and effort to locate these efforts so that they can be properly appreciated. Nonetheless, it would also be nice if those who took over venerated institutions actually appreciated these qualities, too, rather than behaving more like a swarm of locusts that strip resources to the ground before moving on without a second thought to the destruction left in their wake.

The Tao of Greinke (plus a trade with Matt/Sport Card Collectors)

At one point last year, I looked to share with several people a link that would help explain how Zack Greinke had quietly worked his way up to effectively being my current favorite major league player. Aside from being a masterful hurler and a skilled hitter (sometimes not even needing the "for a pitcher" caveat), Greinke, I explained, was also one of the funniest athletes that I can recall. This link, cleverly entitled "The Tao of Greinke," was a collection of Zack's quotes from around the time of his breakout 2009 season in Kansas City that saw the right-hander handle all of the best teams in the American League and net the Cy Young Award despite pitching for a moribund 65-97 Royals squad.

2014 Topps (Mini Pink) - Zack Greinke

Posting 10 WAR, as the righty did in 2009, is a difficult feat for any player not named Mike Trout, one that was made all the more impressive when one grasps that Greinke's career nearly ended several years prior. Despite reaching the majors in 2004 and excelling at the sport's highest level at just 20 years of age, Greinke left the Royals during the 2006 season and noted that he, similar to Ryan Jaroncyk from one of my previous posts, did not expect to return to the game. Greinke would later be diagnosed with depression and social anxiety disorder, diagnoses that were certainly odd to see publicly recognized given the stigma inherent to admitting "weakness" that permeates the toxic aspects of sports culture. Understanding and accepting concerns regarding mental health have often been major shortcomings at all levels of society, particularly in the arena of sports. It is odd to consider why there tends to be such reticence to empathize with the struggles that are faced by professional athletes even if we cannot innately sympathize with being able to easily throw a ball 95 mph or club homeruns into the upper deck, as the basic idea that people are still people should - in theory - take precedence over perceived status differences. Unfortunately, that is often not the case, with the concerns of the "haves" frequently being dismissed under the fallacious notion that they are illegitimate given that athletes, celebrities, et al. 'have millions of reasons to not be depressed.'

Fortunately, the Royals appeared to have both respected Greinke's medical issues and offered enough support that the 22-year-old was able to return to the diamond at the conclusion of the 2006 season. Having also suffered from (then undiagnosed) depression and social anxiety, I saw a lot of myself in Greinke and that continued when Zack was a frequent figure profiled by writer Joe Posnanski. Whether struggling or dominating, Greinke always seemed to be himself and had a very blunt, honest style of answering questions. This was never more evident than in one of the quotes featured in the link mentioned at the outset of the piece, one that has unfortunately been deleted with the quote in question being one that I cannot find elsewhere on the internet. To paraphrase to the best of my recollection, a reporter noted that while they understood that Greinke did not like to be the center of attention, surely having a lot people congratulate him on his success in 2009 must be extremely gratifying.

Greinke's reply? 'No, it's actually kind of annoying,' a sentiment that he has effectively reiterated when noting that the "hassle" that comes with throwing a no-hitter would be more frustrating than would the feat itself being enjoyable. I found both of these statements to be hilarious - but most certainly think that I am in the minority in this regard.

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What makes something funny is one of those eternal questions that, even with the acknowledgment of the subjectivity inherent to humor, has likely been attempted to be answered for ages. I certainly cannot define my own humor, as I have laughed at and told jokes that are many combinations of simple, crude, complex, and intellectual. Sometimes it was the punchline that was funny; on other occasions, it was the reaction by others and the subversion of expectations that was entertaining. This subversion of expectations, along with the incongruity between statements/questions and responses, often play key roles in when I find something to be humorous, as is the case with the paraphrased quotes above.

A few years back, a prompt on Twitter or something of the like asked users what was the funniest thing that they ever said. In thinking back, none of the "jokes" that came to mind were things that one would use in a stand-up set, although I have surely told several that could hopefully be described as being somewhat clever. Rather, the two "humorous" statements that readily came to mind were both along the lines of the quotes that Greinke has made - earnest statements that others can and did take in a different manner than intended due to different perspectives. The second of these two responses requires a lot of backstory lead-up and could still be grossly misinterpreted even after the necessary framing of the situation, so I will leave it for another time.

The first of the two responses, however, came following my sixth grade year in school, one in which I missed nearly the entirety of the fourth marking period due to horrendous recurring stomach pains that would result in a myriad of doctor's visits and multiple invasive procedures. Remarkably, not once do I ever recall my medical doctors or counselors at school raise the possibility of anxiety and/or stress causing even a portion of these issues, a fact made all the more remarkable by it often being the first guess of people to whom I have since relayed the story.

As such, I spent part of my summer back at the middle school in various pressure-inducing meetings with various school counselors and administrators who had not shown terribly much concern with my well-being when my total number of absences was rapidly ascending. I recall one particular meeting with a school psychologist in which I was asked a battery of questions that greatly bothered me due to their (intentional?) vagueness, as I tend to have issues with queries that are not specific as to what is being asked and what type of answer the questioner is hoping to receive, with that only being compounded by the concept of theory of mind. These problematic aspects all came together in the form of the question, "what do other people think of you?" My response was that I was not other people and that it was they who should probably be asked that question.

To say that this caused the meeting to grind to a screeching halt would be a massive understatement. Despite the fact that I was reserved and effectively intimidated for the majority of the assessment, the psychologist accused me of being a smart-ass who was screwing around, which then colored her reports to other members of the administration that I saw. At one point, her recommendation was for me to be held back a year, which seemed to be based out of spite more than anything else. Fortunately, a new school counselor was also involved in the assessment process and dismissed this idea as being ludicrous, as she noted that my history of academic success and the manner in which I had handled the battery of IQ-type tests (legitimize their relevance however you wish) indicated that this was not an academic concern. The situation would ultimately be resolved with me moving on to seventh grade, although that was effectively where it was ended, as no future support or follow-ups were required, let alone offered.

The reaction of the school psychologist still makes me laugh much for the same reason that Greinke's statements do. Neither what I said nor what Zack relayed to reporters was meant to be a joke. Rather, they were statements meant in earnest that could apparently be received in a different fashion when viewed with a different perspective. Because of that, I find humor in them and an appreciation for similar lines that can prove to be entertaining in somewhat unexpected fashion - regardless of original, non-humorous intent.

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I recently completed yet another trade, this one with Matt from Sport Card Collectors, to whom I reached out after seeing that I could offer help when it came to several of his set needs from the 1990s. Making things all the better, Matt's want list focused largely around football sets and I am more than interested in trading many of my football cards given that I do not actively support the sport anymore. A trade offer was quickly accepted and I was thankful to see that what I sent out proved to be helpful to many of the sets that Matt is aiming to complete.

After making its way toward Connecticut in good time, the package that Matt sent in return disappeared from tracking for several days. Where did it go? The smart money is clearly on the Springfield Mystery Spot, particularly given that it was devoid of cards of Ozzie Smith when it did arrive. ;) Fortunately, despite the mysterious journey on which the postal service took said package, it did indeed come last week and I was blown away by its contents. Given that I have bought very little in the way of new releases in recent years, my collection probably skews older than that of most who blog about cards. Matt helped bolster my collections of more recent players in a big way, including that of Greinke, who was tied with Tim Lincecum for the player most represented in the deal with 12 cards apiece. Shin-Soo Choo (6), Jacob deGrom (11), Bob Feller (6), and Scott Kazmir (5) were all also widely included, with most of the cards being inserts and/or serial-numbered editions from brands that I would have never bought.

Pictured directly above are the stacks of cards from those six players including some of my favorites from each. I was particularly enthused to get both the regular and parallel editions of the very cool 2018 Stadium Club card of Choo that was shot with a fish-eye lens, multiple colorful parallels of Greinke (including the one at the outset of the post numbered to 25), and a couple of framed Gypsy Queen parallel cards of Kazmir that I did not know existed. The Lincecum featured atop his stack amused me greatly given that it celebrates the future Cy Young winner losing a game and details a poor start that he made, which strikes me as a funny thing to celebrate.

Other fun highlights included:

- Four cards of Michael Conforto, including the one pictured that features the New York Mets' homerun apple rising out of the hat. I have not been to Citi Field due in large part to not wanting to give the Wilpons any money, so it is heartening to see that this key part of Shea Stadium was carried over to the new park.

- Both a multiple-exposure photo and a fun disc of Jim Abbott, with the latter being reminiscent of the kind that I would get at the bottom of my Slurpee cups during Sunday trips to 7-Eleven when I was young.

- A rare HoJo in the wild has been spotted! Despite posting a trio of 30/30 seasons for the Mets from 1987-91, Howard Johnson often seems to have been a forgotten star on those stellar clubs. While it was definitely cool to add a card from his final strong campaign, it was also neat to see the deckled edge mini from 2014 which hopefully means that Johnson is not totally out of the minds of fans.

- The Jackie Robinson insert from Stadium Club is very pretty. That is all.

- Perhaps the funniest part of the trade (Mystery Spot aside) and definitely the most ironic is the fact that a big part of my motivation was to move out football cards, yet two of the coolest cards that I got in return were of football players. Prior to my previously-blogged-about trade with Chris, I did not have any cards of Colin Kaepernick or Eric Reid in my collection. While some claim to have stopped watching football due to the protest efforts led by the former 49ers teammates, I always supported their efforts to use their voices and platforms to bring attention to issues of racial inequality that continue to plague the country. The willful misinterpretation of these protests and the subsequent blackballing of Kaepernick cemented my decision to no longer support the sport, particularly given that Kaepernick has proven to be a person who more than backed up his pledges to charity and who has been demonized by those acting in bad faith.

As such, it is probably funny to be excited to get a jersey card or autograph from a football release, but that was the case when Matt's package arrived. Included in one of the above images below the Kaepernick jersey and Reid autograph from this trade are the mini Allen & Ginter replicas that came in my trade with Chris (including the Kaepernick that I mentioned in the post). These cards were so expertly crafted that it was not until Chris left a comment indicating that they were created by his friend, Ryan, that I became aware that they were not actually from A&G's release itself, so I wanted to make sure that they were properly recognized in a future post. Thanks again, Matt, for an awesome trade and to everyone with whom I have traded thus far for their amazing generosity! I have done my best to offer proper attribution on my individual trade pages and would certainly love to continue making swaps - particularly if anyone is interested in acquiring some football cards. ;)

Advocating for Silliness (plus a trade with Chris/Nachos Grande)

As I started this post, our new upstairs neighbors' children were heading out the door, backpacks in tow as they went to meet the bus for the first day of school. Just like that, summer - or at least the portion of the year that is unofficially recognized as summer - is apparently done. While I have coached and tutored for a long time, the previous school year was the first in which I worked in a substitute teaching and paraprofessional role, in part to gain additional perspective as to what I may or may not want to do professionally on a long-term basis. A major positive aspect of being a substitute on a district-wide basis is having the opportunity to effectively pick your schedule and assignments. Given that I have sleep issues that can make waking up early on a consistent basis problematic and have been battling a sinus infection for eight months now, having the opportunity to eschew morning assignments at the high school (which starts at 7:25 AM) or outdoor supervisory work on bitter cold days that would have made me then feel ill for a week was a crucial bit of flexibility that is not available when one is working full-time at a given school.

2004 Topps Bazooka Adventure Relics
Edgardo Alfonzo

Having worked primarily with kids who are in fifth grade and up for most of the time that I have been coaching/tutoring, I was also keen on seeing different perspectives and environments. My personal experiences during school varied greatly as I rose through the grades, with the changes in social dynamics turning what was a fun time in elementary school into often stress-inducing ordeals in middle/high school in which the bell to end classes was the world's most welcome sound. Save for having to endure one riled-up tenth grade history class, I was fortunately able to avoid much in the way of exposure to situations that took me back to the negative experiences that I had in school, although it was impossible to not take note of how very different things were at the various levels.

Particularly as a daily substitute, filling in for classes on the middle school and high school levels was often akin to babysitting. All of the students' assignments were uploaded to sites accessible via their personal laptop computers and only once did I have to answer questions as to how to analyze a given portion of an assignment. Past that, my time was largely spent giving permission for students to use the bathroom, retrieve items from their lockers, and check in with other teachers, while once again counting down the minutes until the bell rang. I suppose that it is certainly better to be doing so out of boredom than being stressed in the manner that I often was while growing up, yet it was still not a compelling environment in which to spend one's time. In contrast, there always seemed to be something happening in most of the elementary school classes in which I substituted. The pair of week-long stints that I took with a pair of kindergarten classes were most certainly the most enjoyable experiences from my first year of substituting, as they gave both me and the students to build relationships and develop routines that allowed the day to flow. Even single-day assignments with older grades in elementary schools offered the potential to provide instruction, which was certainly more fulfilling than effectively playing bathroom gatekeeper. What was also intriguing was that even as the students got older, they still maintained a level of silliness and excitement even as social dynamics changed and attempts to seem "cool" emerged.

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During my brief assignments at the various schools prior to baseball season, I received a pair of drawings from kindergarten students. One was a picture of me drawn by a boy in a class where I had spent a full week, with the student attempting to include as many details as possible, including the computer-generated stick-on name tag that I had to wear every day. This boy's older brothers happened to play Majors in the spring, with the boy making sure to come over, say hi, and let me know what the class had been up to on the occasions in which the team that I coached faced his brothers' squad. He and his entire class were outstanding and the students all definitely loved to be creative when afforded the chance.

The other drawing that I received came from a girl in a very rambunctious kindergarten class at another school, one in which keeping an eye on everything that tended to transpire in even the shortest span of time felt like a ten-person job. This student said that she wanted me to remember the day, so she drew an array of purple flowers of various length. When I asked why purple flowers, which were not featured in any of the activities that the class had attempted and were definitely not yet in bloom with snow still on the ground, her reply was that it was silly and she liked them. They were silly and I, too, liked them.

As alluded to earlier, one can observe the manner in which social dynamics start to change as one bounces between grade levels, with the third and fourth grade classes for which I subbed definitely showing the signs of social stratification. Something that amused me about one particular assignment was the manner in which one of the boys in class took great pains to note that he was an amazing athlete and most certainly far more mature than the rest of his classmates. About what was this worldly nine-year-old writing for his current classroom project? A presentation on why puppies are cute.

Bringing up this story is not intended to embarrass this student; after all, my third grade teacher encouraged us to write short stories and nearly all of mine centered around adventures featuring the classroom hamster (Daisy), another student's anthropomorphic Koosh ball (Scopes), or both. Rather, I want to celebrate the fact that even the "cool" kids in elementary school are still writing about how animals are cute and other ideas that are deemed to be silly in a positive fashion, yet are often derided when students get just a little bit older. I used to draw a lot and briefly created cartoons with my friend, Chris, yet we kept them largely private after other middle school students mocked our efforts. The same was true for another classmate who was really into anime, as his drawings and interest were often the subject of ridicule for no reason other than kids trying to demonstrate power via mockery.

For some reason, continuing to like things in adolescence and adulthood that one did when young is often deemed to be "immature," with the concept of silliness becoming a negative rather than a positive. There is a sense of irony when this notion was applied to things like animation, as it was totally cool to watch The Simpsons, but silly or pointless to enjoy anime or Disney films. The feeling that one should be obligated to "grow out" of things is one that has simply not ever fully made sense to me, although I was also always multiple steps behind most peers in terms of social dynamics and struggled to glean the point of most trends, so that was likely to always be the case. However, if someone likes something that brings them joy - however "silly" it may be - and it is in no way harmful to others, shouldn't that be celebrated rather than shamed? The elementary school kids that I taught lit up when given the opportunity to draw creative pictures or talk about their cats. The same was true for my summer 19-U team, which occasionally spent batting practice claiming that they were the San Diego Padres' infield of Hosmer/Kinsler/Machado/Tatis. Why were a bunch of Varsity-level players and college students pretending that they were players on a major league team that plays clear across the country? Who knows, but it was silly and fun and funny and great.

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When initially starting this blog, I reached out to Chris from Nachos Grande, as he was reprising his "Better Know a Blogger" series that provided some background information on many of the individuals whose sites I had read for a while. Similar to my reticence to reach out to Tom, it took a bit of self-encouragement for me to get the gumption to ask if I, someone whose had barely established this current blog, could participate in the series. Thankfully, Chris, like pretty much all of the other bloggers with whom I have engaged, was extremely welcoming and noted that letting someone introduce themselves to the online community was something for which he had hoped that the series could do. I think that the ensuing interview went pretty well, too, and I appreciated the kind comments at the end.

Shortly afterwards, I contacted Chris about setting up a potential trade, as I had quite a few cards that he needed for a variety of set builds and other collections that he was assembling. A swap was quickly okayed and it was once again fun to see just how many cards I could find that would hopefully be of help. Chris' return package arrived earlier this week and most definitely fits this blog post's theme of silliness being awesome, beginning with the neat blog sticker that was included in which Nachos Grande is preceded by the tagline "Baseball and Cards at their cheesiest."

Chris noted that he was not able to find a lot of individual cards of players that I collect, which is not a surprise given that I have fewer current "favorite" players, particularly major stars, than most folks seem to (I have added a secondary list to my trade page of players that I like, but may not wind up actively collecting). However, in addition to the cards that he was able to find, Chris included a variety of packs that he hoped that I would enjoy opening and that was certainly the case. Between the bevy of illustrated cards (none of which I previously had), multiple Scottie Pippen cards, a Dream Team era Michael Jordan, and rookie cards of notable players like Carlos Carrasco, Randy Johnson, and Rafael Palmeiro, there was a lot of fun stuff to be found. I found the art card featuring Manute Bol to be particularly silly, as the expression on his face and pose are certainly a departure from many of the illustrated cards that one saw at the time. Given that Bol stood 7'7" and sports card are typically 2.5" x 3.5", it feels like poor Manute is being crammed inside a box that is far too small (similar to when he was forced to sit on courtside seats that were too short for his frame).

Included in the individual cards that Chris was able to find was my first card of Colin Kaepernick, one in which he is depicted wearing a San Francisco Giants cap rather than anything related to football. That is pretty silly. However, nothing matches the silliness of the very shiny Edgardo Alfonzo jersey card that is pictured at the outset of this post. Coming from Topps' partnership with Bazooka, it is probably to be expected that inserts would be fairly offbeat and this certainly fits the bill. Between the cartoon body, the description of a performance from when Alfonzo was a Met (rather than a Giant, with whom he is pictured), and the fact that Alfonzo's facial expression does not match the level of excitement indicated by the quip within his cartoon text bubble, everything about the card is silly. And great. Thanks again for the trade, Chris!