Fellow blogger Mark Ahrens, Books on Baseball, recognized my clairvoyance in writing "Easy in Pinstripes," which celebrated Yankee rookie Colin Curtis well before most others began to sit up and notice him. This new post focuses on Matt Garza's outing back on June 30; it was written prior to the gem he pitched last night in Tampa.
My son called to me from the living room at around 9 pm while I was doing the dishes: "Hey Mom, Garza has a no-hitter going into the 8th." The news didn't surprise me. I was almost certain he would go all the way. I felt this no-hitter coming a long tine ago.
I hope the editors of Baseball America won't mind that we used their publication as fish wrap last Saturday night. Recycling newsprint in the form of a paper tablecloth has been a family tradition for at least two generations here on Cape Cod, and this is how it works. You order the 2 lb. lobsters from the market early in the day, specifying "steamed, cracked, and split," and you pick them up just before dinnertime. That way you don't have to watch the creatures die, and you don't have a huge mess at the end of the evening.
Layers of newsprint nicely absorb all the drippings of butter and broth, wine and beer, and then when the meal is finished and dishes are cleared, you gather the remains - discarded shells, paper napkins, bibs, tentacles and other random lobster parts - and roll them all up in soiled paper, and then it's done.
If you happen to choose a decent publication, it's sometimes fun to stop and read while setting the table, maybe even during dinner too, when an interesting article or photograph might catch your eye by candlelight.
This is how we enjoyed dinner three nights ago. Most of the time it doesn't work this way, however. For one thing, lobster is expensive and I hardly ever buy it. What's more, I usually dine alone.
It's either feast or famine in our house, both figuratively and literally. Lots of family in summer, lots of groceries and food prep, dishes and cleanup. I'm on my own in the off season, and life changes dramatically. Meals are sparer and much simpler. Dinner takes place in my study, a.k.a. the "All Star Room," home to many baseball books, autographed balls, photographs, and other treasures of the game.
The swivel chair sits about seven feet from a 42" flat screen. Material possessions don't mean a whole lot to me, but I love my high-definition Sony television. ESPN 1 and 2, MLB Channel, NESN, ESPNU, Fox, and sometimes the MLB package on cable. And a big dinner plate on my lap.
My son has trouble believing me when I tell him that back in the day we had no ESPN - nothing remotely like it. No web gems, no game summaries, no replays, no exhaustive analysis, no Mike and Mike for four hours every morning. I can't believe what I just wrote: four hours?
We were lucky to get two or three quick minutes of sports highlights at the end of the evening news, maybe a video clip or two. Games didn't play on television every single night, certainly not ten or twenty of them to choose from. We were happy if WOR-TV Channel 9 broadcast an occasional Mets game when they were on the road. One of the major networks carried one "Game of the Week," and occasionally that game might feature your favorite team, but not very often. No spring training coverage or televised exhibition games, no panels of five men analyzing every conceivable situation, no retired Hall of Famers in classy business suits demonstrating bunt technique on a charming little set made to look like a big league clubhouse.
As a young girl, had I ever been given a sneak peak at the future of baseball on television, I would have thought I had died and gone to heaven. Now that this future has arrived, I have no idea how I would live without it, how I would survive every night in spring, summer, fall, and winter if I didn't have baseball to keep me company. I'm not one to go sit in a bar.
I feel a little nervous and uneasy when I start eating dinner at 7:05 p.m. on June 30. Boston vs. Tampa Bay. It's almost impossible to relax when Dice-K is on the mound. Matsuzaka issues three walks in the top of the 1st, which is pretty much what we all expect to see. Zobrist, Pena, Joyce. It's hard to watch Daisuke when you're eating dinner, because he inspires so little confidence. It's even more challenging to watch Matt Garza, especially in hi-def, because he messes with your appetite. His visage inspires terror (in me, at least) and a little bit of loathing too - not just on the mound, but in the dugout as well, where he sits alone and readies himself for the first pitch, headset sending motivational music and waves of percussion through his head and over his entire frame, which shakes and writhes on the bench, while he dwells in his own scary world far from the city of Boston.
My leftover salmon filet, lighly glazed with apricot and lemon and grilled the night before, sits on a bed of baby spinach laced with olive oil and garlic, next to a side of cheesy grits. My Chardonnay of choice is a label I found on sale at the Village Market - "subtle citrus aromas, elegantly balanced flavours, and a crisp, clean finish" - Oak Vineyards, two for ten dollars, and it's surprisingly good. I drop a few frozen purple grapes into my glass to keep the wine nicely chilled. Those seedless fruits taste delicious all infused with alcohol when the game is over and the wine glass is empty, and I'm told they're good for me too.
He gives up a lead-off single to Scutaro. Then Patterson grounds into a double play on an 0-1 count. Garza would allow four hits and one run over 7 innings before leaving the game in the 8th. The Rays will go on to defeat Boston, the score a very disappointing 9-4. I figured it would turn out like this, remembering all too well the outcome of Game 7 in 2008, the same year in which Matt Garza won ALCS MVP. Clearly he earned the coveted award, but his two successful outings in that post-season campaign had been extremely difficult to watch.
I used to think that ESPN and NESN and Fox should post warning signs when Garza is pitching: Not recommended at dinnertime. Do not try this at home. Not suitable for women and children. The only time I don't enjoy watching baseball on my beautiful high definition screen is when Matt Garza takes the mound.
I'm not the only one
who feels squeamish when he is throwing. My sister feels the same
way, and so do some of my blogging acquaintances: "I
literally just watched him spit 5 times in the 5 second span he was
just on tv. Watching his games is so gross," blogs one male fan in
Minnesota. Some fan reactions are so extreme, I can't even reprint them here, but clearly, it's not just women like me who are uncomfortable with the imagery: "My eight year old
wants to emulate this jerk," declares one disgusted dad. "I love baseball, and I spit a lot," writes another fan, "and [Garza] makes me sick. Like physically ill."
My cheesy grits taste perfect with the grilled salmon, and I decide I'll have to try this combination sometime for company. Midway through the game, it occurs to me that my little meal for one isn't nearly as unpleasant as I'd expected it to be. For some reason, Garza isn't spitting and twitching as much as he used to; there's not the usual close-up detail on a larger-than-life face that forces you to turn your head away from the game. No sign of it after he throws a wild pitch in the bottom of the 7th. No sign of it after after Scutaro's infield single in the bottom of the 8th. Nothing that can be termed disgusting or offensive.
Apparently, Garza has refined his approach, his mound presence, and maybe his mental game too, even though the quality remains erratic, his ERA an unremarkable 4.08. Still, he looks quieter to me, more grounded, centered.
First-round pick in 2005 (25th overall) out of Fresno State, Matthew Scott Garza throws a 4-seamer that maxes out at 98. He commands a frightening repertoire that also includes a two-seam fastball, slider, and looping curve. He has a well-documented tendency to lose control. He also loses his temper. But not as much as he used to.
I'm wondering if someone turned to the young player a year or so ago while watching videotape - maybe it was the sports psychologist who showed up at the suggestion of Joe Maddon. "Matthew, you gotta listen to me. Look at that," he says, rewinding and then pausing the film. "Ya know, that is just plain gross. It's hard to watch, man. You gotta understand, dude, there's people watching this game. Women and children. People are eating dinner."
We missed last night's no-hitter, most of it anyway. We were busy eating a casual supper outdoors on a beautiful summer evening - ten of us enjoying Tex-Mex out on the deck while the kids shot nerf guns and played wiffle ball in the yard - and I had no idea that a no-hitter was unfolding until it was almost too late.
I did manage to enjoy the final three outs, but not on television this time around. Computerized gameday on my lap. No close-ups, no human faces, no sound at all - just a simple, quiet narrative and stick figures and primitive visuals, pitch by pitch by pitch. I love watching the game this way - the pace and pure silence of it, no replays and no distractions.
But I really do wish I had seen Matt Garza on hi-def television last night from start to finish. Pitch by pitch, the entire thing. I'm disappointed to have missed that opportunity. It would have been an almost perfect night to have him over for dinner.
Matthew Scott Garza, RHP, 6'4" 215 lbs.
Born: November 11, 1983, Selma, California
W11- L5 ERA: 4.06
Wonderful entry, Judy. How cleverly you blend baseball with food, family, life—just as it should be! What a strange transformation in attitude I experienced last night: feelings of repulsion at Garza’s strange, intense face disappeared as he became downright handsome after the no-hitter. Suddenly, I noticed the sparkling brown eyes, great smile, and the fact that he’s well-spoken! I love the last line of your entry-- and it's fortunate the BB was in the second so that no one was thinking "perfect" throughout the game.
Posted by: Susan | 07/27/2010 at 02:55 PM
Wow, your post reminded me as a kid how I looked forward to watching "This Week in Baseball" every week. It was the only chance to get to see those baseball highlights that are now seemingly on demand with all the media outlets we have today. Its unfortunate that often you don't appreciate things when they are always present. Baseball highlights were such a treat back in the day.
Posted by: Tom | 07/28/2010 at 07:19 AM
That particular part of the entry seemed like a digression and I almost omitted it ... but now I'm glad I left it intact amidst all those other words. So pleased to know that you experience similar memories!
Posted by: watching the game | 07/28/2010 at 10:57 PM
ahhh....digressions are the best part. I grew up in Fair Lawn. I bet we share many similar memories.
Posted by: Tom | 07/29/2010 at 06:39 PM