"Let's show some hustle out there..."

Friday, June 18, 2010

I was sitting in my most excellent seats (behind the Indians dugout about 20 rows back – thanks Sharon) when, for the second time that night, I watched a hitter from the Mets fail to run to first base after a called third strike that the catcher failed to catch. When this happens, even though the batter has struck out, he can run to first base. Should he beat the throw from the catcher, he would be safe and the catcher would be charged with an error for not catching the ball. All outs must end with someone catching the ball. The odds of getting to first before the catcher picks up the ball and throws to first are almost none. Almost. If I were the manager, each of those players would have had hefty fines for not hustling. C’mon…you’re pros…play the game the way it was meant to be played…hustle!

I called John to complain. He’s as in to baseball as I am.

“John…I just saw this play…” I started, but noticed a bunch of white noise in the background.

“Can hardly hear you. I’m at the game,” he said.

“Me, too. Where are you sitting?”

“Behind the Mets dugout,” he said.

“I’m behind the Indians. I’m wearing my yellow cap,” I said.

“Yeah…I see you. I’m waving.”

I looked and even with Savannah saying, “he’s…right…there…in that nerdy, striped shirt waving like a dork,” I still couldn’t see him. Until I did. He was illegally located – his tickets were in another section, further from the action. But he cheats, so he moved closer (I do too, but didn’t need to tonight). He was also getting the boot from the usher and moved over by us. When he arrived, we discussed the sorry state of professional baseball as it is played today.

“…and another thing…did you notice how no one watches the field between innings? They’re all watching that goofy shit that’s happening on the scoreboard,” I said.

“Yeah. I know. People have to be watching a video. Savannah…when we used to come, there was no jumbo-tron scoreboard, no people running across the dugouts and throwing shirts into the crowd, no stupid people in hot dog suits racing around the infield…you just watched the players warming up between innings and talked about the game…or went to pee,” John said.

“Nice story, grandpa,” she said…watching the hotdogs and texting three friends.

The Indians lost, but at least I got to watch Trevor Crowe, after striking out but noticing that the catcher had dropped the ball, hustle down the line towards first base. He was out, but not by much. Way to hustle, Tribe. They’re going to be alright.

I’d done my workout before the game. Since the abs were still hurting, I’d thrown the backpack in the car, loaded with 60 pounds, and planned a long hike. Besides, it’s time to start getting ready for some trips to the Adirondacks and that means time with a pack on my back. I was thinking I’d also do a 30-minute run after the hike…beautiful plan for an inflamed lower abdominal wall.

I started with 20 step-ups on a boulder 12 inches high at the trailhead. These strengthen the quads, something I’ll need for climbing in the Adirondacks. I noticed that the left side of my abs were more painful than the right. Oh well. I walked for 70 minutes doing only one more set of step-ups, but taking a reasonably hilly, off-trail course. It was hot and muggy and I was pretty beat up by the time I returned to the car. My shoulders and hips were feeling the weight of the pack – it’s been over two months since I last did this – so I decided to bag the run. No sense pushing my luck and I had a run and survival workout scheduled for tomorrow morning. Though it wasn’t an aerobic day…my heart rate was around 100 bpm, it certainly burnt some calories.

Hike duration: 70 minutes.

Training Heart Rate: 100.

Calories burned during workout: 700.