The Dude wrote:pretty sure two of my friends at work are banging

The Dude wrote:pretty sure two of my friends at work are banging

One ball and two strikes.

When I think of baseball, that’s what I think. That’s what I hear. Out of context, and maybe even within it, there’s not much significance to the phrase itself, but kids remember strange things, and when I think of baseball, that’s what I remember. One ball and two strikes.

I was seven in 1993, and I suppose that’s when I truly remember becoming a baseball – and Phillies – fan. This isn’t an uncommon story for people my age and from my area, and I don’t think I’m special for sharing it. But while I vaguely remember the mullets, but I remember one ball and two strikes.

What’s funny, I don’t remember watching any specific game or any special moment during which that count occurred. It wasn’t the count on which Mitch Williams struck out Bill Pecota to secure the National League pennant for those ’93 Phils over the Braves (that was a full count), and it wasn’t the count on which Joe Carter’s deathblow ended the Phils’ season (that was 2-2).

But I remember Harry Kalas. And I remember Harry Kalas’ syrupy drawl. And the way he said “one ball and two strikes” was so perfect and so precise. So lasting that it would stick with a seven-year old for almost two decades, and will stick with him for as long as he continues to live.

And I suppose that’s what made Harry Kalas so special. In his legendary career, he had hundreds of memorable calls – Mike Schmidt’s 500th home run, the aforementioned 1993 pennant-winning strikeout, when he finally got to call a Phils’ world title live in 2008 – and there will never be a homer hit at Citizens Bank Park or anywhere else when I don’t wish Harry was there to exclaim “swing and a long drive” or (my personal favorite) call a Ryan Howard blast a “tremendous home run.”

But it isn’t these things that stuck out to a seven-year-old kid. It’s the way Harry said “one baaaallll and twooo striiiikes.” And looking back, it makes sense. Heck, with 162 games in a season, you can’t expect the guy to call historic moments every game. So if a play-by-play guy wants to be a memorable character in the baseball novel, the way he says “one ball and two strikes” is really important, maybe even more so than the way he calls the big Ks or the tremendous home runs.

And maybe that’s what I’ll try to do here. I’m a busy person and the only reason I haven’t started blogging is because I’m afraid I’ll quit. So I won’t set any parameters for myself. I don’t know how often I’ll update or what direction this blog will take. Where it goes, it goes. Hell, the e-market is saturated with Phillies blogs covering every possible niche there is. I take baseball seriously, but I’m not generally a serious person. Maybe I’m too bipolar and too disjointed to draw readers in. I guess we’ll find out. As Harry taught me, there’s only so many someone can say 162 different times a season. But it’s how he said it that counted.

Until the day he called his last game, Harry had the same intonation, the same poetic pace he always had. I could rely on it that. And to me, it’s all too fitting that on April 12, 2009, when Harry called his final out and drew his last breaths on air as a living legend, Brad Lidge retired Troy Tulowitzki at Coors Field on a count of one ball and two strikes.

The Dude wrote:pretty sure two of my friends at work are banging

jerseyhoya wrote:Yeah I've told myself I'm doing taxes over spring break in March.

My stomach will turn every time the tax thread gets bumped between now and then. They're the pinnacle of annoying paperwork crap that I hate dealing with. Make dealing with health insurance or my student loan people seem like a joyous trip to Chipotle...not because it's hard, just because it depresses me to see how much money I gave old people who are richer than I am this year. Well and the paper work is tedious and there's the fear that if you #$&! something up the IRS will #$&! your day up.

meatball wrote:Hypothetical situation....

Let's say you (male/early 30s) and your wife decide to separate/divorce/whatever, and you have to move out. You're in DE, but it's a small place, and although things btw you and her are amicable, you'd prefer not to see her all over town (especially if other dudes are eventually tagging along with her).

Consider that you travel for work, and your territory is Central PA--KOP--Center City--Delaware. Where would you move?

Just for shiggles (<--new word) here's some starting points:

West Chester
-- Young crowd, stuff to do, good apartment availability/variety, not too expensive

Philly
-- Great culture, nightlife, lots of ladies, but expensive rent/car insurance, etc

Lancaster
-- Downtown's surprisingly cool, inexpensive, close to family, but lots of memories

Colorado, CA, Oregon, etc
-- Tear up roots and start all over, plenty of hiking and scenery, but expensive w/ grizzly bears

...someplace else?

Hypothetically, where would you go. Hypothetically?

wogglymaster91 wrote:Pretty sure I have every Talking Heads song ever recorded on my computer.