Riding the Not-So-Slow Boat

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Riding the Not-So-Slow Boat
Written by Casey Neal
Daily Log of a Fresh-faced Graduate
April 7, 2013

Don-o and I, we're like the utility infielders of pick-up men – good enough to play on any given day, but not sure enough to bet the pennant on. We're a good tandem, though, both able to play either the pick-up guy or the wingman, and that telepathic connection that lets us swap roles seamlessly when the moment calls for it. I like to think of it as akin to that same magic that a good double play combo carries around inside them. We win nearly as many as we lose, so everything kinda works out and, if nothing else, we figure we’ve got a hella story to tell over Black and Tans.

This bit is important to my wandering tale of adventure because the night after watching Reno slice into my Warriors, Don-o and me found ourselves at the Grand Opening of Studio 12 (a nightclub down lakeside) and tied into a pair of chick-a-dees who seemed to be interested. Don-o laid his dorky kinda magnetism on the blonde, and I had just gotten a great arm-touch response from the brunette after telling her my "Got Lost Shopping for My Mom's Birthday Present" story when these two beefed-up, gorilla-faced dandies (probably Crystal Lake fans) arrived on the scene and suggested that their girlfriends weren't so interested in us after all.

Don-o, he disagreed perhaps a bit too vehemently.

Before we knew it, we were racing down the docks at action-film speed and being chased by Guido the Killer Pimp and his buddy Jockstrap, who were both yelling holy Hell and threatening to grind us to hamburger. This wouldn't have been so bad, but the Purple Heaven chose the moment we hit the Studio 12 back door to kick into max-warp.

Yeah, I know. Shouddinta dunnit, but we were doing so flippin’ good that I figured it would help keep things interesting. I mean, it’s not like I dropped A into anyone else’s drink, eh? That ain’t me. And it’s not like I had any plans on operating any industrial machinery or nothing. So sue me… just don't tell my Mom, okay?

Anyway, we’re running over the dock and I’m ducking bolts of lightning falling around me like the spark shower from a Roy Hobbs blast.

"This way," Don-o says. His waving hand strobed before my eyes like a “Slappy” Bradley fastball, and he jumps on a boat. I dove over the rail, dodging the dragons and bats that swooped in on me all the while. It was a fishing trawler, probably a 50-footer. Over in the water, I saw this massive thing that looks like a Mandelbrotian octopus begin to devour the boat, so you can understand why I missed the expressions on Guido and Jock's faces as the craft pulled away. Things settled down, and we found ourselves face-to-face with the crew.

Luckily, the dudes running the boat were cool enough. Don-o turned them onto the vid-mashings of our buddy Joi McKenna, and they let stow away once they heard we didn’t care where they were headed as long as it didn’t entail going back to pick up Guido and Jock Strap.

Did I mention that I get seasick? Don-o had good fun fritzing with my mind as the boat churned, and I spent the next ten hours alternating between warm-chumming and pounding on the live bait wells like Keith Moon on "Won't Get Fooled Again". Don’t give me the whole, “Neil Pert was better,” line… or Mike Portnoy, or John Bonham, or Lars freakin' whoever. Moonie just had something zany about him that the others ain’t got, and that still speaks to me through the ages. I admit I don't see the big flare-up about Townsend and the blondie-boy singer is a loser, but Keith Moon can play anything and it’s freakin’ cool enough to dig on CSI reruns, especially when you’ve got the Purple going.

But I digress. By the time the sun was rising, I had finally come down and we were through the Sault St. Marie locks and already on Lake Michigan. This is – believe it or not, though – a story about baseball. So I figure it's about time I get around to investigating that subject.

As fate would have it, we hit the dock at Muskegon at about 11 a.m. with just enough time that I can get my land-legs back and thank God for stable land before we hitch a ride to Kalamazoo for the 2:05 game at Portage Park, home of the double and the best corn-dog chili in the league. Unfortunately for K-zoo fans, it's also the home of the Badgers, a team that won 100 games in their first season and have been on a downward spiral ever since. Sorry to report, but I don’t know that this year is going to be a whole lot better (as if Badgers fans need my sorry behind to tell them that). We’ve all read the news that the franchise was in the red at the end of last season and was seriously working toward cash generation this year – not a frame of mind that most fans want to hear.

Regardless of all that corporate wonk, the Badgers hosted Palm Springs that day. The Codgers must have brought their weather with them; the temperature was a rosy 51° as Badgers starter Stephen Carpenter threw the first pitch, a fastball about a foot over RF Mark Lamb's head. Lamb would eventually single but then get caught stealing. This would be a theme of the day, as Badgers catcher Doug Erickson, who I never thought of as particularly bazooka-like behind the plate, threw out three guys on the day.

That's about all that went right for Kalamazoo, though, as Carpenter gave up eight runs in the second inning without getting anyone out. This was a particularly LaLoshian performance, starting with a single by John Gustafson and continuing with – no joke – hit batsman, single, 3-2 walk, 3-2 walk, 3-2 walk, 3-0 walk, 3-2 walk. The guy couldn't find the plate with the Hubble Telescope.

It was poetic justice that when the Badgers finally delved into their pen that reliever Xiao-yan Chao walked the next guy, too.

Not that the offense was particularly inspiring. Bottom line here is that Kalamazoo's offense was about hind-end last year, and I would need a kazillion microdots of Purple Heaven to see them much better this year. You have to feel for K-zoo favorite Raúl García because the guy is the only real major league hitter on the team. He seems happy where he's at, though, so more power to him. Of course, he's making seven million clams, which probably makes it a lot easier to sleep at night after being on base three times in a losing cause. The team did get a homer from John Collins, who can look a little beastly from the left side of the plate and is averaging about 30 homers a year, but the guy is 34 and has to be on the downside, doesn’t he?

Aside: Collins went 3-4 with three RBI, good enough for Player of the Game even though his team lost 15-7… WTF? How can you give PotG to a guy whose team lost 15-7? I mean, the Codgers’ Joe Parks was 4-5 with a pair of RBI, and John Gustafson was 3-5 with 2 RBI before being pinch-hit for. Gimme a break.

Anyway, as I was saying, García is solid, and a guy like Joel Swedlove can at least get on base a bit. The Badgers’ front office bled cash for Gerardo Soto in the off-season, and if he can keep riding the mid-30s development wave, maybe he can help, too, but at $7M a year, he seems like an expensive gamble. If nothing else, those big doubles alleys in his home park should play to his strengths. If I squint, I can see these guys picking up a spot or two on the offensive end.

One cool thing about a blowout is that Don-o and I got to see pretty much the entire Badgers bullpen. Overall, I was pretty impressed, though Tanner Brown got lit up. What a shock, eh? It was so bad that Badgers manager Martyn Steger brought in #1 starter Dan Burhoe (there’s a name dying for a teenage laughing jag) to close out the game – a move that just has to make you wonder. I mean, seriously, dude? Who is Steger’s dealer? The team is down 15-7 in the 9th inning of a game in April and you bring in your ace starter to get one out. For this kind of thinking, you get $700K a year?

Sigh.

Of course, one can wonder about the idea of Burhoe as a #1. Yeesh. I thought my Warriors had it rough. I mean, look at Burhoe and Er Hang… what do you see? Me, I see $15M sunk into two arms who are a combined 106-119. This does not bode well, though. I guess if I were a MR with an appearances bonus clause in my contract, Kalamazoo would be the place I would point my agent to. So there’s a bright spot in every dark corner. Or something like that.

Regardless, the game was fun to watch, and the Kalamazoo fans were pretty easygoing for a lot that has had to watch their guys roar to a 1-4 start. By the time we left the park, it was getting cold and both Don-o and I were feeling a little short of sleep, though my spirits were buoyed by the smell of stale peanuts and the news that Duluth had taken Reno 7-4 in other league action. We agreed we would find a Motel 6 and zonk out, then hit the highway bright and early tomorrow to find the next installment of sweet, sweet baseball, PEBA-style…