Congratulations Chase and the Raspberries!

Yes, you read that right. Raspberries. A group of 13 and 14 year old boys named their maroon-shirted soccer team the Raspberries. Well, I guess that is OK, since they not only won the regular season, but were champions in the playoffs as well. Way to go, son.

Humility Stands Out Because It is So Rare

I was happy to see Derek Jeter gain his 3,000th hit with a home run. I have always appreciated his clutch skill when watching him during the playoffs against my favorite teams. It seems that the Yankees always did my Mariners in during the first round years ago, and now do the same thing to the Twins. Jeter always got his hits in the clutch.

The following paragraphs are what stood out to me when reading the article about his success. O for more outward actions like this...

But even more impressive, to me anyway, was the way Jeter reacted to it. Surely, he knew as soon as he made contact that the 3,000th hit was finally his. Quite possibly he knew it was leaving the ballpark, his first home run over the fence at this stadium in more than a year.

But there was no bat-flipping, no jumping up and down, no Cadillac-ing around the bases. Jeter left the batter’s box as if he had dribbled one down the third-base line and needed to run like hell to beat it out. And when it was obvious that no one was catching this one, he settled into a respectful trot. He did not leap onto home plate, or pump a fist, or do anything to embarrass the opposing pitcher or himself. He simply continued running into the embrace of the first of 24 teammates rushing out to meet him at home, who happened to be Jorge Posada, perhaps his closest friend on the team.

Read the whole thing.

Baseball was a Magic He Could Run Around in

Henry successfully kept his mind on the game, which might seem strange for a boy who slept beside a wall of magic. But baseball was as magical to him as a green, mossy mountain covered in ancient trees. What's more, baseball was a magic he could run around in and laugh about. While the magic of the cupboards was not necessarily good, the smell of leather mixed with dusty sweat and spitting and running through sparse grass after a small ball couldn't be anything else.

—N. D. Wilson, 100 Cupboards, pp. 155-156

Great game, then dessert!

Chase's team was down 8 to 0. Yes, the big fat zero. Chase was up to bat. Two strikes. One ball. Lined one into the outfield for a double. Stole third. Third baseman let it go between his legs. Stole home. Game hero. Reward below.

Twins Win! Twins Win!

Last Saturday night, April 15, Chase and I had the good pleasure of attending a Minnesota Twins baseball game in the Metrodome. The Twins were playing the Yankees, who happen to be Chase's favorite baseball team. I am sure that this is a travesty to Alex Bejerano and Tim Wines, who taught me to enjoy baseball, and consequently hated the Yankees. Oh, well. I think Chase mostly likes the Yankees because they have a bunch of former Seattle Mariners.

The Twins started out very well, getting up to a quick 4-0 lead. Unfortunately, they couldn't hold their lead, and ended up down by one, 5-4, going into the ninth inning.

The Twins were able to hold off the Yankees in the eighth inning. The Yanks brought in Mariano Rivera at the end of the eighth to try for a five-out save. He shut the Twins down.

On to the ninth. Yankees were at bat first, and were taken care of relatively easily. Three outs left for the home team. The first guy (I don't know their names; I am not from Minnesota) got on base. The second guy got on base. Then the king of saves, Mariano Rivera, struck out the next two Twins batters. The situation was this: down by one, bottom of the ninth, two outs, and facing arguably the games' best closer. The Metrodome was so loud you couldn't hear yourself yell.

The fifth batter hit a single to right field driving in both runs to win the game.

Twins Win! Twins Win!

Chase was bummed, for the mighty Yankees fell, but the two of us, we had a great time. It is good to be a dad.