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Parker Hageman

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  1. Like
    Parker Hageman reacted to BaseballGenius123 for a blog entry, Why Am I a Twins Fan, And a Little About Myself   
    This post will be about why I am a Twins fan and some memories of the Twins, and a little about me. My name is Levi Hansen, I am 24 years old and I am from Rochester, Minnesota. I went to high school at Mayo High School and graduated in 2016. When I was in high school I knew that after I graduated I wanted to go to college and major in something that involved sports, but I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to go for. My senior year I decided I wanted to go to school and major in Athletic Training, after a couple years of doing this I found out that this wasn’t right for me, so I switched my major to Mass Communications, I graduated from Rochester Community and Technical College for my Associates Degree this last Spring Semester after I was done with my internship. For my internship I did play-by-play for the Yellowjackets at Rochester Community and Technical College men’s and women’s basketball team’s. At first I was really scared to do play-by-play because I am not a huge basketball fan in general, but halfway through the season the Athletic Director at school stopped me in the hallway after one of the games and told me that an assistant coach from one of the team’s really enjoyed listening to my play-by-play announcing, but the one thing I could change is to say the player’s names more instead of saying the jersey number. At the end of season I was really mad because I think I improved a lot throughout the season and I didn’t want the season to end.
    I think I got the love of sports, mostly baseball and football from my father, both my parents are from Trempealeau, Wisconsin, my dad grew up a huge Vikings fan, and when my mom was pregnant with me my dad would read the sports section of the newspaper to my mom’s growing stomach. I like to thank my dad for doing that because I love my Minnesota Twins no matter if they are one of the best teams in the regular season and sadly 0-18 in the last 18 playoff games, or if they are having a disappointing season like they are having this season. Ever since I was in Kindergarten my dad would ask myself, along with my younger brother and sister if we wanted to play youth sports, I played baseball, football, from Kindergarten thru my freshman year of high school and I wrestled from Kindergarten thru my 8th grade year, I truly miss playing all these sports. I also did Boy Scouts for a couple years and they would do a fun night at the Metrodome watching the Twins game and have some fun activities and at the end of the night the Boy Scouts could sleep on the turf. Those times were very fun.
    All good things come to an end. I decided I didn’t want to play football anymore after my freshman year, and I wasn’t good enough to make the high school team my freshman year, the players wanted me to stay and be the student manager my Sophomore year, I knew this was an easy choice I ended up managing the baseball team my sophomore year through my senior year for the baseball team and I ended up managing the football team my senior year both of them were so much fun being around a good group of guys and some good coaches. A little story. The Twins drafted Bradley Mathiowetz in the 2014 draft in one of the later rounds. Bradley was a couple years older than me in high school. I thought that was pretty cool that I went to high school and knew a Twins draftee either  though he ended up not signing. Bradley ended up being Mr. Baseball for Minnesota in 2014, Bradley was a treat to watch it seemed he hit a home run every at bat and he was a pretty great defensive catcher as well.
    Over my 24 years of being a Twins fan, there have been several good players, however my favorite Twins fan of all time is power hitting, gods defensive first basemen Justin Morneau. I think Justin could’ve been in the Hall Of Fame if it wasn’t for all the concussions he suffered while playing the game tough. Justin ended his playing career with 1,545 games played, 5,699 at- bats, 247 Home Runs with a .281 Batting Average, those are pretty good career numbers if you ask me. There was a time I got to meet Justin Morneau at the Metrodome. Years ago there was a reading contest through Cub Foods and people had to read a certain number of minutes to meet Justin, I completed the assignment not because I love to read (I only like to read sports books.) It was because I wanted to meet my favorite player. I remember going through the line as a little kid telling him he was my favorite player it was very fun meeting my favorite player. 
    The year 2020 was a very sad year with COVID making the world a not so very fun place to live. Spring Training was cut short because of it. When I heard there might not be baseball played last year I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t know what to do in my free time. When there wasn’t any baseball I found some fun baseball podcasts to listen to, I really enjoy Nash Walker’s podcasts and really like Aaron Gleeman and John Bonnes’s podcasts both podcasts are a treat to listen to, another podcast I love listening to are Twins Daily offseason podcasts. If there is ever a time that I could join a Twins Daily offseason podcast it would be so fun. I like listening to the podcasts because I just really like listening to people’s takes on my favorite sports team, most of their takes I agree with but, some I don’t. I wanted to pick up my blog I took a break off from writing on Twins Daily, but a couple months ago I stated blogging again. I love to blog on Twins Daily because I can write whatever comes to mind about the Twins, and people can comment on posts. When I found out there was going to be baseball, but only 60 games, without any fans I was really happy that ”America’s Favorite Pastime” was coming back. Other Twins fans can follow me on Twitter my handle is LeviHansen11
    Hopefully you guys like this post. My next post will be about the trades the Twins made at the trade deadline and if I like them or not. 
     
     
  2. Like
    Parker Hageman reacted to TwerkTwonkTwins for a blog entry, Potayto, Potahto. Simmons, Semien. Did the Twins make the correct middle infield acquisition?   
    The day is January 26th, 2021. The Minnesota Twins had been rumored to be interested in various middle infield free agent options, but Marcus Semien was their top target, according to Darren Wolfson. The fit made some amount of sense, as the right-handed Semien would provide some pop against lefties and defensive flexibility across the infield. 
    Semien did not sign with the Twins on January 26th. He accepted a one-year contract worth $18M to join the upstart Toronto Blue Jays, as their primary second baseman. The Twins quickly pivoted, signing Andrelton Simmons to a one-year $10.5M contract a few hours later as their fallback option. 
    Fast forward, and today is May 27th, 2021. It's been over four months since the Twins made that pivot from Semiens to Simmons, over a difference of $7.5M. A lot has changed in that span, as the Twins quickly went from division favorites, to 8.5 games back from first place.
    With 30% of the season in the books, I think it's fair to look back and evaluate if the Twins made the right decision by not outbidding Toronto for Semien's services and shifting to Simmons. 
    Before we dive in, it is important to call out that comparing Simmons and Semien across their career has been a bit like apples and oranges .The two players are both indeed starting middle infielders, but Simmons has been one of the most elite defensive shortstops in a generation, while Semien was a Top-3 MVP finalist due to his offensive performance. Semien has also been playing primarily at second base this year, but has started roughly 9% of his games at shortstop. 
    With that out of the way, let's see how Semien and Simmons have fared so far in 2021 across overall, offensive, and defensive categories: 
     
      Overall Offensive Defensive   Games Played PA fWAR bWAR AVG OBP SLG HR OPS+ wRC+ Hard Hit % Barrel % WPA DRS Outs Above Average Runs Prevented Fielding % Marcus Semien 47 212 2.2 2.4 .286 .349 .536 12 143 143 44.9% 8.1% 0.6 3 3 2 .988 Andrelton Simmons 37 138 0.2 0.7 .238 .326 .320 2 92 87 27.3% 1.0% -0.6 2 8 6 .966  
    In one way, the overall result is what you expect. Semien is a better offensive player, and Simmons takes the edge defensively, especially when accounting for time spent at shortstop.
    But Semien isn't just outpacing Simmons offensively -- he's among the league leaders in offensive production. Semien not only has a higher slugging percentage and weight runs created plus (wRC+) than his 2019 season where he was a MVP finalist, but he currently leads all qualified MLB second baseman in those two categories. Toronto took a chance Semien would look more like his 2019 self, than his 2020 version. They have been right so far. The move to second base has also worked to this point, where multiple defensive metrics point toward positive contributions. All together, his 2.2 fWAR ranks 7th among all MLB hitters, 
    On the other hand, Simmons has always been known as a player who gives the team value through his glove. His offensive skillset usually ends up slightly below average across his career, and he's been just that in 2021 (both his OPS+ and wRC+ are below 100, which is the league average). Simmons won't strike out that often, but he won't provide any power at all. Both his Hard Hit % and Barrel % are below the 5th percentile of all MLB players. Weak contact can be dangerous.
    The Twins have definitely received value from Simmons and his magic glove. Simmons ranks second in MLB with 8 Outs Above Average, according to Statcast, which has saved the Twins 6 runs over the course of the season. FanGraphs is not as glowing as Statcast, as Simmons ranks 11th among MLB shortstops in Defensive Runs Saved.
    The eye test will tell you Simmons has been amazing, but we can all point to a few plays this year where a mental lapse has resulted in a key dropped ball, or a double play that wasn't turned. That lack of clutch ability has also shown up in his -0.6 Win Probability Added (WPA), where as Semien has the reverse positive WPA of 0.6. 
    Overall, I do think the Twins have received a positive contribution from Andrelton Simmons. He's performed in the baseline of his career, with his elite defense outweighing his offensive downfalls. But when you compare the two contracts, it's hard to justify that signing Simmons to one-year and $10.5M has been more valuable than Marcus Semien at one-year and $18M. FanGraphs claims Semien has already provided $17.7M worth of value for Toronto, while Simmons has provided $1.5M worth of value for the Twins. 
    There were probably other factors that led Semien to Toronto, rather than Minnesota. It's not 100% up to the team in free agency, it is a dance that involves many other factors for the player aside from the dollar amount. But if the decision for a middle infield acquisition came down to a $7.5M difference between the front office's top target and their fallback option, it's clear Falvey and Levine should have ponied up a bit more. The Twins are missing out on a early dark horse for the 2021 MVP candidate. 
     
     
     
     
     
  3. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Hosken Bombo Disco for a blog entry, Let Them Swing How They Want   
    Byron Buxton, a father who happens to play center field for the Minnesota Twins, was asked how he approaches working with his young son on his game.
    On the Sports Info Solutions podcast with Mark Simon, Buxton said that he lets his kid hit anyway he wants. 
    “When we go out to hit, before we do anything, he’ll hit like any player he wants to hit like. He wants to hit like Max Kepler or hit like Cody Bellinger. Anybody he wants to hit like, that’s what I let him do,” Buxton says. “For him, he likes Mookie Betts’ leg kick but he likes where Cody Bellinger’s hands are at. I’m not going to make you hit like me or hit like this person because there are days where you might have to back off the plate or open up a little bit. So it’s one of those where I’m literally whatever he wants to do on the diamond, I do whatever he wants to do because that’s what keeps it fun.”
    There are coaches and parents who give relentless instructions until the young hitters conform to some preconceived notion of what a hitter should look like. This presents several problems. This first is that motor learning rarely progresses well from that style of teaching. And what works for one hitter, might not for another. People need to have creativity and freedom to explore movements in order to find optimal ones for them. 
    “I was forever trying a new stance, trying to hit like [Hank] Greenberg or [Jimmy] Foxx or somebody, and then going back to my old way,” Ted Williams wrote in his book, The Science of Hitting. “I recommend that for kids. Experiment. Try what you see that looks good on somebody else.” 
    Read the rest of the post at Get Better Baseball.
  4. Like
    Parker Hageman reacted to Tyy1117 for a blog entry, Revisiting Falvine Trades: Part 1, Ryan Pressly   
    The 2021 Minnesota Twins have a very bad, beyond terrible, no-good bullpen. We all know that. Let's take a break from the 2021 Minnesota Twins Dumpsterfire Bullpen, and talk about something closely related, the Ryan Pressly trade. As part 1 in a series where we'll take a look back at trades "Falvine" made early in their tenure, and re-evaluate them, what's more fitting for right now than this deal that has an impact on Twins' bullpens of past, present, and future?
    The Trade:
    Houston Astros Receive: RP Ryan Pressly (MLB)
     
    Minnesota Twins Receive: P Jorge Alcala (MiLB), OF Gilberto Celestino (MiLB)
     
    Twins' fans weren't fans of this one at first, especially as Pressly went on to be dominant down the stretch in 2018 posting a 1.49 FIP in 23.1 IP after his arrival in Houston. In 2019 he followed that performance up with an All-Star appearance in a season worth 1.7 WAR. All this and Twins' fans had yet to see Celestino or Alcala in the Majors. So at this point some of y'all may be saying "So if we weren't fans of it at first, why would we be fans now?" The answer, Jorge Alcala. He had a 3.79 xFIP in 2020 and has followed it up with a 3.80 xFIP so far in 2021 (although he has had some home-run-itis lately, but that should regress to the mean according to xFIP). He has started to become a quality reliever, and has just barely hit a year of service time. 
     
    Oh, and don't forget the Twins' number 8 prospect according to MLB.com, and Buxton's heir apparent, Gilberto Celestino. He's not going to be Buxton, but he does profile as an eventual starting center fielder. 
    So let's break down exactly what each team got in terms of production.
     
    Houston Astros:
    --Ryan Pressly
              3.1 WAR paying $2,800,000 and eventually the right to overpay him by a LOT.
     
    Minnesota Twins:
    --Jorge Alcala
              0.5 WAR paying minimum MLB salary, and 5 more years of team control.
    --Gilberto Celestino
              Nothing, yet. However he is the 8th best prospect the Twins have, which holds considerable value for the future
     
    Hey, it all seems okay. A trade where the Twins probably got more value, but the Astros got a reliever that helped them hold on to leads given to them by trash cans, leading them deep into the playoffs. All parties involved come away happy, the makings of a wonderful trade.
     
    All stats are thanks to Baseball Reference and Fangraphs, photo is thanks to MLB.com
  5. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Doctor Gast for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Becoming a More Patient Leader:
     
    Two good tips on how to increase patience in these stressful times.
     

    Redefine the meaning of speed. The U.S. Navy SEALs are known for their saying “Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.” These rapid-response special forces teams are paradoxically methodical and patient in both planning and executing their time-critical missions. They have learned over 60 years of operating in crisis situations that working at a slow and smooth pace reduces mistakes and re-dos and in the end speeds up the mission. In short, they have learned that leaders shouldn’t “confuse operational speed (moving quickly) with strategic speed (reducing the time it takes to deliver value).” And this of course means that leaders need to clearly define what delivering value means from the start. 

    Thank your way to patience. Gratitude has powerful effects on a wide range of our attitudes and behaviors. For example, keeping a journal about things you are thankful for increases generosity with others and lowers stress. It is no wonder then that gratitude may also positively spill over to our ability to demonstrate patience. Research in experimental psychology has found when people feel more grateful, they are better at delaying gratification and are more patient. 
    Travis D’Arnaud’s Offensive Breakout:
     
    Atlanta’s Travis D’Arnaud has transformed into a dangerous hitting catcher, finally living up to his draft expectations. Here’s some good insight on how he reached that level and an interesting take on how playing with the Rays versus one of the New York teams could allow him to focus on his development:
     

    Mottola would watch his batting practice swings, his on-deck swings, his in-game swings, and ask questions. Why are you attacking heaters this way? Why don’t you try to stay on top of the ball, without pulling off with your front side? Sometimes d’Arnaud didn’t have an answer. But because he knew Mottola — because he trusted him — he didn’t get defensive. This was coming from a place of compassion. 

    They tried every idea they could think of. D’Arnaud hit barefoot for a couple of days. One time, he added another tee to create a right bat path. Another time, Mottola had him try a wide-open stance, just so they could figure out what his straight line through the middle of the zone was. 

    “It was all these little moments that just finally came together,” he said. “In St. Pete, it was just like, man, the only people I have to answer to are my teammates and coaches. That’s why we’re allowed to do some things outside the box; we don’t have the same scrutiny. It seems like when you’re on the Yankees and Mets, you need to hang out in the cage all day just to get a little peace. 

    “To be yourself, and not always have to answer to your failures, is really refreshing for a lot of these guys.” 
    Loss of Sports Hurting Families:
     
    Sports have a way of bringing families together and without it, will some families lose bonding time?
     

    To Luker, the pandemic-fueled decline in youth participation is just one piece of a larger puzzle. 

    Few people are attending games of any kind. The fear of large crowds is wise, and it’s keeping most of us away from sitting in stands or standing on sidelines or even gathering for television watch parties. 

    But we need to be aware of the cost: Children, families and friends have been cut from fandom’s communal tradition. There are now far fewer chances to form friendships around watching sports together, and less opportunity for our youth to feel the generation-to-generation connections that come from getting together and rooting for a team. 
    Better Sleep Equals Better Results:
     
    Houston Astros’ reliever Josh James had terrible sleep habits as a prospect. He credits improving his rest to his improved performance (2020 stats notwithstanding).
     

    James did some research and finally saw a sleep specialist in December 2016. He spent the night hooked up to monitors and was diagnosed with sleep apnea, a potentially serious sleep disorder in which breathing repeatedly stops and starts. The condition caused the 2004 death of NFL Hall of Famer Reggie White. 

    James was given possible surgical remedies that included removing his tonsils or fixing his deviated septum, though none of those were a guaranteed fix. Instead, he chose to start using a CPAP machine (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure), which delivers pressurized air through a mask that's worn at night to stop snoring. 

    The effects on James' energy were gradual. 

    "Just a little bit more refreshed in the morning, a little bit more refreshed about the day, and slowly I started feeling a little bit better every day," James said. "No naps needed. Normally, I'd come home and need a nap, and now I'd come home and be able to do stuff or cut the grass or watch TV." 

    The effects on James' career began blossoming this season. He went from sitting at 91-94 mph with his fastball, occasionally hitting 95, to touching 100 mph, to go along with a good slider and changeup. A beast was unleashed. 
    Improving Your Batting Practice Environment:
     
    As winter begins here in the north, baseball players will retreat to the comforts of indoor training. Brock Hammit has some excellent (and affordable) tips for coaches and trainers on how to improve that environment.
     
    Random:
     
    I recently finished reading The Fish That Ate The Whale, a story of a banana peddler’s rise to one of the most powerful men on the planet.
     
    The story of Sam Zemurray is fascinating as well as tragic for the Central American countries that he would disrupt in order to maximize profits for his fruit companies. In order to accomplish toppling governments and replace them with ones who would be more aligned with his business desires, Zemurray would require the help of Edward Bernays, the father of public relations, to tell his story and portray him favorably.
     
    Bernays, Sigmund Freud’s nephew, would use psychological tactics in his approach to managing people and brands. One of his specialities was indirection.
     
    Bernays was once hired by the publishing industry to increase the sales of books. Rather than take the message directly to the public that they should purchase more books for entertainment or educational purposes, Bernays approached homebuilders and convinced them to add built-in bookshelves to their new homes thereby making the owners head to the bookstore to fill the empty space.
     
    The subtle indirection greatly boosted sales of books.
  6. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Platoon for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    MLB’s Brain Drain:
     
    The Minnesota Twins are hiring but it would seem that the industry as a whole might be in trouble.
     

    However the next several years play out, it appears that the baseball industry is in a liminal space. Front office gigs, long glamorized, have become less desirable to those with options. The individuals who remain in the industry feel underpaid, undervalued, and overstressed. The most conscientious are concerned that an already exclusive industry is going to build larger gates, and become more homogenous and bland because of misplaced priorities. The industry, then, is in a bad place -- and it might remain there for the foreseeable future.  

    "A lot of people call it their dream job," the former senior analytics member said. "This was one of those things that makes you realize that a dream job sometimes is still a dream." 
    Practice Analytically, Perform Intuitively:
     
    Training with data will not impede a player’s ability to improvise during play.
     

    Seeing the errors in how people intuitively think about the golf swing made Bryson question how other parts of the game were played. Having majored in physics at college, he operates like a scientist. He subscribes to Charles Dickens’ famous line from Great Expectations: “Take nothing on its looks; take everything on evidence. There’s no better rule.” 

    Where other golfers guess why they’re struggling at the driving range, Bryson brings two military-grade launch monitors so he can quantify his swing path to the tenth-of-a-degree. Where other golfers use standard grips, Bryson uses the world's largest commercially available grips so he can reduce wrist cock in his swing and hold the club with his palms instead of his fingertips. Where other golfers have a half-inch length difference between every iron, all of Bryson’s are cut to 37.5 degrees, the length of a standard 8-iron. Where other golfers change their putting technique based on how they feel that day, Bryson’s implemented a system called vector putting: he uses math to compute the break and determine how the ball will roll along the grass. Where other golfers hit 7-10 degree drivers, Bryson copied the world long-drive champion and put a 5.5 degree driver in the bag. Where other golfers use a 45-inch driver, Bryson’s experimenting with a 48-inch one. 

    Bryson showed that a determined contrarian, armed with the right data and a definitive plan, can upend conventional wisdom and prove that there’s a better way to do something. 
    Gophers Baseball PACK Mentality:
     
    The University of Minnesota’s offense has been good. That’s owed partially to a cultural mindset.
     

    One of the signature components of Gopher Baseball's offensive approach is the PACK Mentality, centered on four primary characteristics: performance, aggressive, consistent and knowledgeable. The goal of the PACK Mentality is to turn individual at bats into a team approach. As a unit, the offense is more effective than if at bats were attacked solely as individuals. 

    "The idea of this is like a pack of wolves hungry to hit," said Raabe. "No matter who is on the mound, we have a sense of 'no fear,' because you have eight other guys behind you if you fail… Everyone has an individual role in the PACK system." 

    {snip} 

    The PACK Mentality also drives Minnesota's success in these areas of emphasis, as the situational scenario of the game is different every time a player steps into the box. This requires absolute buy-in from every member of the offense, allowing each hitter to adapt to the unique situations that occur as they arise. 

    "We are all three-hole hitters that have many tools at our disposal in order to get whatever job done that needs to be done," said senior catcher Jack Kelly. "At the very least, be a tough hitter to pitch to by having quality at bats with lots of hard contact and good two-strike approaches." 
    Stock Up On Average Players ($):
     
    Some teams have found success by loading a roster with “average” players.
     

    Amid the welter of modern stat tools, one idea often gets buried: The difference between a great or near-great player and an average or slightly above-average player is enormous in terms of glamour, fan appeal, all-star and even Hall of Fame consideration. But the difference — on the field, in run differential and in the standings — often just isn’t that big. 
    The Mad Genius of Eddie Van Halen:
     
    RIP.
     

    The Van Halen family—father Jan and mother Eugenia, plus Eddie and Alex—left Holland for the United States in 1962; Eddie was 7 years old and spoke very little English when he arrived in Pasadena, California. Jan Van Halen was a musician—a working one, when he could find a gig. He played clarinet and saxophone, and in their teens, the boys would often join him in his various wedding bands. Eddie was an introvert, an inventor: He boiled guitar strings (for elasticity), dipped his pickups in hot paraffin, cut vibrato bars in half, transplanted the neck of one guitar onto the body of another. 

    One early El Dorado was something he called the “brown sound”—a distortion that was thick, sleek, organic, and unrelenting, but that didn’t blow up your amp. He pursued this brownness with endless mad-scientist tinkerings. “He tried aiming the amp at the wall,” writes the Van Halen biographer Ian Christe in his peerless Everybody Wants Some, “stuffing it with padding, and covering it with a plastic hood before discovering that he could overdrive it at a lower volume if he starved it for voltage using a Variac variable power supply.” Later, he would house a delay unit inside the hollowed-out body of a decommissioned U.S. Army bomb, to create what Christe calls a “big metal ordnance-cum-reverb-chamber” that he would face onstage while playing “Eruption.” 
    Telling A Great Bedtime Story:
     
    Some excellent advice for the newer parents out there.
     

    “Listening to the story without the benefits of the illustrations requires the child to picture the characters and the events in their own mind,” said Rebecca Isbell, Ph.D., an early childhood education consultant and professor emerita at East Tennessee State University. “They are creating the story for themselves. They are listening to it, and as they do they’re turning on that movie in their head.” 

    These mental movies are powerful — in her research, Dr. Isbell has found children understood (and retained) more of a story they were told out loud than having the same story read to them. “I think that’s something that gets lost with reading,” she said. “You’re focused on the words and the phrases, not the deeper meaning of it.” When you tell a story, there’s no book to focus on, for you or your child, so you can use gestures and eye contact to add drama, suspense and intrigue. 
    Podcast Recommendation: Gaynor Strength & Pitching
  7. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Hosken Bombo Disco for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to this week’s What I’m Reading.
     
    This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles that you might enjoy.
     
    The Brilliance of Brad:
     

    Facing American League-favorite Oakland in the opening round of the 2002 playoffs, the Twins got off to a horrendous start. Radke issued a one-out walk in the first inning to Scott Hatteberg and Pierzynski’s error on Eric Chavez’s two-out single would ultimately lead to two runs scoring. 

    The Twins got a run back in the top of the second inning but more disaster awaited in the bottom half. They allowed a harmless infield pop fly to fall in with two outs, allowing a run to score, then third baseman Corey Koskie booted the next play. 

    “(Radke) was ticked off,” Koskie said. 

    Pierzynski rarely saw Radke get frustrated. That wasn’t the case in Game 1. 

    “He never got mad at anything but he came in and started screaming at us,” Pierzynski said. “’Wait a minute, Brad is mad? We must have really screwed something up.’” 

    Steady as always, Radke found a way to work around it. He retired 10 of the final 13 batters he faced, completing five innings. Though he left with a 5-3 deficit (only one of the runs was earned), Radke set the tone for an all-time Twins comeback. 
    The Porta Potty Park:
     
    Ah, the temporary outdoor stadium that never was.
     

    Minnesotans had been staying away from the Dome in impressive numbers. It had become a cliché for former Twins attendees to say, “It’s not just the losing. We don’t get enough nice summer days to waste them by going inside the Dome.’’ 

    Clouser decided passion could be rekindled by giving the fans a chance to see the Twins play outdoors. 

    Ellerbe Becket was recruited to design a ballpark with bleachers holding 25,000. The grass at Bloomington’s Kelley Farm site would be manicured. Temporary restroom facilities and concession areas would be constructed … this only a handful of Killebrew home runs from where the fans last saw an outdoor home game for the Twins at Met Stadium in 1981. 
    Voit’s Growth As A Hitter:
     

    Health is part of the explanation for Voit’s season, but Pilittere said he’s focused on working more efficiently and in preparation for a game-by-game basis. Instead of taking pregame swings by volume, he’s facing machine pitching that simulates the pitchers the Yankees expect to see on a given night. If the starting pitcher is a slider-heavy left-hander, he’ll take swings in preparation for that. 
    Data-Driven Decisions:
     
    Sam Bornstein, a University of Iowa baseball’s analytics team member, has joined SimpleSabermetric’s Jake Stone to contribute to that website.
     
    In his introductory post, he demonstrates how technology is improving an organization’s player development decisions.
     

    While some may view the introduction of these technologies as bad for the game, that is certainly not the case. These technologies give us a quantifiable method to make data-driven decisions. Using technology to aid in the player development process is a lot like using a calculator on a math exam - without it you may be able to get to the right answer, but with it you can be sure you're making the best decisions possible to get to that answer quicker. This example is directly applicable to today’s game as well. The coaches who have been in the game forever have an immense amount of valuable experience. However, as more and more technology is introduced we are able to rely more on data to make our decisions than previous experiences. 
    Matthew Wolff’s Unorthodox Golf Swing:
     

    He’s a golfer who swings the club like a baseball player. And he’s 18 holes away from defying logic all the way to a historic major championship. 

    {snip} 

    Wolff and DeChambeau are at the vanguard of a generation of golfers who hit the ball far. Really, really far. They worry about the consequences later. 

    “There’s a lot of holes out there that maybe people would try to hit it in the fairway or maybe take the safe play because it is a U.S. Open and they know that pars are a good score, but I don’t really like to think of it that way,” Wolff said Saturday. 

    {snip} 

    Before swinging, Wolff shimmies his hips like he’s readying himself for a dancing number. Then when he draws the clubhead back, he takes it unusually far outside. It sets up for an unusual follow through. But the result is clear: Wolf creates an extraordinary amount of power that few on tour can rival. 
    Here’s a video breakdown of Wolff’s swing. While not necessarily the same, you can see some of the same elements in some baseball swings. For instance, Byron Buxton’s hips and legs using the ground to generate force. It’s amazing to me how much golf as a sport has embraced using technology and breaking convention if the numbers back it up, which feels different when watching baseball broadcasts and hearing announcers lament the “launch angle swing”.
     
    While Wolff is a good story, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that US Open champion Bryson DeChambeau transformed himself into one of the greatest long ball hitters on the tour today -- through science, technology and intent. What’s interesting is that Dechambeau developed his own powerful swing derived from a 45-year-old golf textbook, not unlike one of today’s hitter’s refining their craft using Ted Williams’ seminal book.
     
    Building Mentally Strong Players:
     

    Footballers can tend to mentally rehearse failure daily. They can remember the mistakes and the poor plays in detail. They can learn helplessness in the quiet of their mind. They may need to deliberately shift these inner pictures to their best games, best moments, best plays. 
    This tweet from sports psychologist Dan Abrahams reminded me of something pitching coach Wes Johnson did for Jose Berrios last year.
     
    LAST:
     
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Rec)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Rec)
  8. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Squirrel for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to What I'm Reading. This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles I’ve read this past week.
     
    Behind Nelson Cruz’s Maniacal Preparation:
     
    From his Seattle Mariner days but a reminder of how much work the 40-year-old Cruz puts in to maintain his elite level of play.
     

    Nap time can vary, but it’s daily. 

    “If we play at home, I like to do it after BP,” he said. “If we are on the road, I do it before BP.”
    Post nap will include a dip in the cold tub for about five minutes, followed by some time in the warm tub. 

    Cruz’s on-field workout is another process. He doesn’t walk into the cage and try to bomb homers. There’s a plan to his batting practice, which includes driving the ball to the opposite field. Sure, by the end, he’s launching balls over the fence at distances his teammates only wish they could reach. 

    But he’s become a more complete hitter by showing this discipline in batting practice. Though he rarely plays in the field anymore, Cruz will still take fly balls on most days because he still wants to play in the outfield at some point. He’ll even take ground balls in the infield to keep his body active. 

    “It’s fun for me,” he said. 
    Kansas City Royals Pitching Development Has Changed:
     

    “We’re not going to draft a guy, have them come in and be like, ‘We need to do this, this and this,'” Stetter said. “The biggest thing is, you have to trust your eyes. If a pitch is working, the hitter is going to tell you. The hitter is going to let you know if your stuff is good enough. And if it is, you’re going to keep going with it. And if you get to Double-A and the hitters start hitting it, you’re not getting swings and misses, we’ll know what kind of changes we might make to that pitch to make it better.” 

    {snip} 

    “A lot of times, if you’re having a guy throw a four-seam, and it’s got a two-seam tilt, it might not always add up that he should be throwing all four-seams,” Stetter said. “There’s some stuff with Rapsodo and Edgertronic camera where we can sit there and make a decision on a guy, where, it might be more beneficial if he throws more two-seams, or it might be beneficial that he throws more four-seams. With new technology, you can tailor it to the guy. Certain grips play better to horizontal-breaking sliders.” 
    Joe West Never Missed A Call:
     

    "This is what people don't understand: When an umpire has a bad night, he goes back and looks at it," he said. "There has to be a reason you missed the call. Three ways you can miss a call: lack of concentration, lack of positioning, lack of timing. The Denkinger play at first base [in 1985 when the] Cardinals lost the World Series to the Royals. Don Denkinger overhustled on that play. He took himself out of position to see that play. Is that a bad thing that he hustled? No. But he put himself in the wrong spot. He's one of the best umpires the American League has ever had. He's remembered for that call. That's not fair. There's no batting average for performance for an umpire. They grade you, yes. But when you miss some, you can't go out and hit a homer. You have no recourse to get that back." 
    99-Year-Old Roger Angell On Modern Baseball Statistics:
     

    I think some of the new stats are useful. Good baseball played by Major Leaguers is so far beyond us—it’s the hardest game in the world to play well. And what underlies [the stat revolution] is, I think, a conscious and effective way to get some of this back, to say, “We know better. We know what the batters are doing. They don’t know what they’re doing.” It’s understandable, but it doesn’t add to the joy of the game for me. I’m not very statistical by nature, so I could be wrong about this. And I know a lot of people now use these stats and talk about them with interest. But also, it’s part of the huge alteration of the game itself. People tilting their swings and swinging for homers and striking out in huge numbers. This is a gigantic change in the game. I think home runs are OK, but on the whole, I prefer a triple. 
    Are We Teaching Wrong?

    Mr. Hirsch also takes issue with grade schools’ focus on “skills.” Whether it is imparting “critical thinking skills,” “communication skills” or “problem-solving skills,” he says such instruction is a waste of time in the absence of specific knowledge. He describes the findings of the National Academy of Sciences on the subject of the “domain specificity of human skills.” What this means, he explains in the new book, “is that being good at tennis does not make you good at golf or soccer. You may be a talented person with great hand-eye coordination—and indeed there are native general abilities that can be nurtured in different ways—but being a first-class swimmer will not make a person good at hockey.” 

    He cites the “baseball study,” conducted by researchers at Marquette University in the 1980s, which found that kids who knew more about how baseball was played performed better when answering questions about a text on baseball than those who didn’t understand the game—regardless of their reading level. The conventional response in education circles is that standardized tests are unfair because some kids are exposed to more specific knowledge than others. In Mr. Hirsch’s view that’s precisely why children should be exposed to more content: Educators “simply haven’t faced up to their duty to provide a coherent sequence of knowledge to children.” 
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Playlist)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Recommendation)
  9. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Hosken Bombo Disco for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to What I'm Reading. This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles I’ve read this past week.
     
    Behind Nelson Cruz’s Maniacal Preparation:
     
    From his Seattle Mariner days but a reminder of how much work the 40-year-old Cruz puts in to maintain his elite level of play.
     

    Nap time can vary, but it’s daily. 

    “If we play at home, I like to do it after BP,” he said. “If we are on the road, I do it before BP.”
    Post nap will include a dip in the cold tub for about five minutes, followed by some time in the warm tub. 

    Cruz’s on-field workout is another process. He doesn’t walk into the cage and try to bomb homers. There’s a plan to his batting practice, which includes driving the ball to the opposite field. Sure, by the end, he’s launching balls over the fence at distances his teammates only wish they could reach. 

    But he’s become a more complete hitter by showing this discipline in batting practice. Though he rarely plays in the field anymore, Cruz will still take fly balls on most days because he still wants to play in the outfield at some point. He’ll even take ground balls in the infield to keep his body active. 

    “It’s fun for me,” he said. 
    Kansas City Royals Pitching Development Has Changed:
     

    “We’re not going to draft a guy, have them come in and be like, ‘We need to do this, this and this,'” Stetter said. “The biggest thing is, you have to trust your eyes. If a pitch is working, the hitter is going to tell you. The hitter is going to let you know if your stuff is good enough. And if it is, you’re going to keep going with it. And if you get to Double-A and the hitters start hitting it, you’re not getting swings and misses, we’ll know what kind of changes we might make to that pitch to make it better.” 

    {snip} 

    “A lot of times, if you’re having a guy throw a four-seam, and it’s got a two-seam tilt, it might not always add up that he should be throwing all four-seams,” Stetter said. “There’s some stuff with Rapsodo and Edgertronic camera where we can sit there and make a decision on a guy, where, it might be more beneficial if he throws more two-seams, or it might be beneficial that he throws more four-seams. With new technology, you can tailor it to the guy. Certain grips play better to horizontal-breaking sliders.” 
    Joe West Never Missed A Call:
     

    "This is what people don't understand: When an umpire has a bad night, he goes back and looks at it," he said. "There has to be a reason you missed the call. Three ways you can miss a call: lack of concentration, lack of positioning, lack of timing. The Denkinger play at first base [in 1985 when the] Cardinals lost the World Series to the Royals. Don Denkinger overhustled on that play. He took himself out of position to see that play. Is that a bad thing that he hustled? No. But he put himself in the wrong spot. He's one of the best umpires the American League has ever had. He's remembered for that call. That's not fair. There's no batting average for performance for an umpire. They grade you, yes. But when you miss some, you can't go out and hit a homer. You have no recourse to get that back." 
    99-Year-Old Roger Angell On Modern Baseball Statistics:
     

    I think some of the new stats are useful. Good baseball played by Major Leaguers is so far beyond us—it’s the hardest game in the world to play well. And what underlies [the stat revolution] is, I think, a conscious and effective way to get some of this back, to say, “We know better. We know what the batters are doing. They don’t know what they’re doing.” It’s understandable, but it doesn’t add to the joy of the game for me. I’m not very statistical by nature, so I could be wrong about this. And I know a lot of people now use these stats and talk about them with interest. But also, it’s part of the huge alteration of the game itself. People tilting their swings and swinging for homers and striking out in huge numbers. This is a gigantic change in the game. I think home runs are OK, but on the whole, I prefer a triple. 
    Are We Teaching Wrong?

    Mr. Hirsch also takes issue with grade schools’ focus on “skills.” Whether it is imparting “critical thinking skills,” “communication skills” or “problem-solving skills,” he says such instruction is a waste of time in the absence of specific knowledge. He describes the findings of the National Academy of Sciences on the subject of the “domain specificity of human skills.” What this means, he explains in the new book, “is that being good at tennis does not make you good at golf or soccer. You may be a talented person with great hand-eye coordination—and indeed there are native general abilities that can be nurtured in different ways—but being a first-class swimmer will not make a person good at hockey.” 

    He cites the “baseball study,” conducted by researchers at Marquette University in the 1980s, which found that kids who knew more about how baseball was played performed better when answering questions about a text on baseball than those who didn’t understand the game—regardless of their reading level. The conventional response in education circles is that standardized tests are unfair because some kids are exposed to more specific knowledge than others. In Mr. Hirsch’s view that’s precisely why children should be exposed to more content: Educators “simply haven’t faced up to their duty to provide a coherent sequence of knowledge to children.” 
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Playlist)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Recommendation)
  10. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from ToddlerHarmon for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to What I'm Reading. This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles I’ve read this past week.
     
    Behind Nelson Cruz’s Maniacal Preparation:
     
    From his Seattle Mariner days but a reminder of how much work the 40-year-old Cruz puts in to maintain his elite level of play.
     

    Nap time can vary, but it’s daily. 

    “If we play at home, I like to do it after BP,” he said. “If we are on the road, I do it before BP.”
    Post nap will include a dip in the cold tub for about five minutes, followed by some time in the warm tub. 

    Cruz’s on-field workout is another process. He doesn’t walk into the cage and try to bomb homers. There’s a plan to his batting practice, which includes driving the ball to the opposite field. Sure, by the end, he’s launching balls over the fence at distances his teammates only wish they could reach. 

    But he’s become a more complete hitter by showing this discipline in batting practice. Though he rarely plays in the field anymore, Cruz will still take fly balls on most days because he still wants to play in the outfield at some point. He’ll even take ground balls in the infield to keep his body active. 

    “It’s fun for me,” he said. 
    Kansas City Royals Pitching Development Has Changed:
     

    “We’re not going to draft a guy, have them come in and be like, ‘We need to do this, this and this,'” Stetter said. “The biggest thing is, you have to trust your eyes. If a pitch is working, the hitter is going to tell you. The hitter is going to let you know if your stuff is good enough. And if it is, you’re going to keep going with it. And if you get to Double-A and the hitters start hitting it, you’re not getting swings and misses, we’ll know what kind of changes we might make to that pitch to make it better.” 

    {snip} 

    “A lot of times, if you’re having a guy throw a four-seam, and it’s got a two-seam tilt, it might not always add up that he should be throwing all four-seams,” Stetter said. “There’s some stuff with Rapsodo and Edgertronic camera where we can sit there and make a decision on a guy, where, it might be more beneficial if he throws more two-seams, or it might be beneficial that he throws more four-seams. With new technology, you can tailor it to the guy. Certain grips play better to horizontal-breaking sliders.” 
    Joe West Never Missed A Call:
     

    "This is what people don't understand: When an umpire has a bad night, he goes back and looks at it," he said. "There has to be a reason you missed the call. Three ways you can miss a call: lack of concentration, lack of positioning, lack of timing. The Denkinger play at first base [in 1985 when the] Cardinals lost the World Series to the Royals. Don Denkinger overhustled on that play. He took himself out of position to see that play. Is that a bad thing that he hustled? No. But he put himself in the wrong spot. He's one of the best umpires the American League has ever had. He's remembered for that call. That's not fair. There's no batting average for performance for an umpire. They grade you, yes. But when you miss some, you can't go out and hit a homer. You have no recourse to get that back." 
    99-Year-Old Roger Angell On Modern Baseball Statistics:
     

    I think some of the new stats are useful. Good baseball played by Major Leaguers is so far beyond us—it’s the hardest game in the world to play well. And what underlies [the stat revolution] is, I think, a conscious and effective way to get some of this back, to say, “We know better. We know what the batters are doing. They don’t know what they’re doing.” It’s understandable, but it doesn’t add to the joy of the game for me. I’m not very statistical by nature, so I could be wrong about this. And I know a lot of people now use these stats and talk about them with interest. But also, it’s part of the huge alteration of the game itself. People tilting their swings and swinging for homers and striking out in huge numbers. This is a gigantic change in the game. I think home runs are OK, but on the whole, I prefer a triple. 
    Are We Teaching Wrong?

    Mr. Hirsch also takes issue with grade schools’ focus on “skills.” Whether it is imparting “critical thinking skills,” “communication skills” or “problem-solving skills,” he says such instruction is a waste of time in the absence of specific knowledge. He describes the findings of the National Academy of Sciences on the subject of the “domain specificity of human skills.” What this means, he explains in the new book, “is that being good at tennis does not make you good at golf or soccer. You may be a talented person with great hand-eye coordination—and indeed there are native general abilities that can be nurtured in different ways—but being a first-class swimmer will not make a person good at hockey.” 

    He cites the “baseball study,” conducted by researchers at Marquette University in the 1980s, which found that kids who knew more about how baseball was played performed better when answering questions about a text on baseball than those who didn’t understand the game—regardless of their reading level. The conventional response in education circles is that standardized tests are unfair because some kids are exposed to more specific knowledge than others. In Mr. Hirsch’s view that’s precisely why children should be exposed to more content: Educators “simply haven’t faced up to their duty to provide a coherent sequence of knowledge to children.” 
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Playlist)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Recommendation)
  11. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from dbminn for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to What I'm Reading. This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles I’ve read this past week.
     
    Behind Nelson Cruz’s Maniacal Preparation:
     
    From his Seattle Mariner days but a reminder of how much work the 40-year-old Cruz puts in to maintain his elite level of play.
     

    Nap time can vary, but it’s daily. 

    “If we play at home, I like to do it after BP,” he said. “If we are on the road, I do it before BP.”
    Post nap will include a dip in the cold tub for about five minutes, followed by some time in the warm tub. 

    Cruz’s on-field workout is another process. He doesn’t walk into the cage and try to bomb homers. There’s a plan to his batting practice, which includes driving the ball to the opposite field. Sure, by the end, he’s launching balls over the fence at distances his teammates only wish they could reach. 

    But he’s become a more complete hitter by showing this discipline in batting practice. Though he rarely plays in the field anymore, Cruz will still take fly balls on most days because he still wants to play in the outfield at some point. He’ll even take ground balls in the infield to keep his body active. 

    “It’s fun for me,” he said. 
    Kansas City Royals Pitching Development Has Changed:
     

    “We’re not going to draft a guy, have them come in and be like, ‘We need to do this, this and this,'” Stetter said. “The biggest thing is, you have to trust your eyes. If a pitch is working, the hitter is going to tell you. The hitter is going to let you know if your stuff is good enough. And if it is, you’re going to keep going with it. And if you get to Double-A and the hitters start hitting it, you’re not getting swings and misses, we’ll know what kind of changes we might make to that pitch to make it better.” 

    {snip} 

    “A lot of times, if you’re having a guy throw a four-seam, and it’s got a two-seam tilt, it might not always add up that he should be throwing all four-seams,” Stetter said. “There’s some stuff with Rapsodo and Edgertronic camera where we can sit there and make a decision on a guy, where, it might be more beneficial if he throws more two-seams, or it might be beneficial that he throws more four-seams. With new technology, you can tailor it to the guy. Certain grips play better to horizontal-breaking sliders.” 
    Joe West Never Missed A Call:
     

    "This is what people don't understand: When an umpire has a bad night, he goes back and looks at it," he said. "There has to be a reason you missed the call. Three ways you can miss a call: lack of concentration, lack of positioning, lack of timing. The Denkinger play at first base [in 1985 when the] Cardinals lost the World Series to the Royals. Don Denkinger overhustled on that play. He took himself out of position to see that play. Is that a bad thing that he hustled? No. But he put himself in the wrong spot. He's one of the best umpires the American League has ever had. He's remembered for that call. That's not fair. There's no batting average for performance for an umpire. They grade you, yes. But when you miss some, you can't go out and hit a homer. You have no recourse to get that back." 
    99-Year-Old Roger Angell On Modern Baseball Statistics:
     

    I think some of the new stats are useful. Good baseball played by Major Leaguers is so far beyond us—it’s the hardest game in the world to play well. And what underlies [the stat revolution] is, I think, a conscious and effective way to get some of this back, to say, “We know better. We know what the batters are doing. They don’t know what they’re doing.” It’s understandable, but it doesn’t add to the joy of the game for me. I’m not very statistical by nature, so I could be wrong about this. And I know a lot of people now use these stats and talk about them with interest. But also, it’s part of the huge alteration of the game itself. People tilting their swings and swinging for homers and striking out in huge numbers. This is a gigantic change in the game. I think home runs are OK, but on the whole, I prefer a triple. 
    Are We Teaching Wrong?

    Mr. Hirsch also takes issue with grade schools’ focus on “skills.” Whether it is imparting “critical thinking skills,” “communication skills” or “problem-solving skills,” he says such instruction is a waste of time in the absence of specific knowledge. He describes the findings of the National Academy of Sciences on the subject of the “domain specificity of human skills.” What this means, he explains in the new book, “is that being good at tennis does not make you good at golf or soccer. You may be a talented person with great hand-eye coordination—and indeed there are native general abilities that can be nurtured in different ways—but being a first-class swimmer will not make a person good at hockey.” 

    He cites the “baseball study,” conducted by researchers at Marquette University in the 1980s, which found that kids who knew more about how baseball was played performed better when answering questions about a text on baseball than those who didn’t understand the game—regardless of their reading level. The conventional response in education circles is that standardized tests are unfair because some kids are exposed to more specific knowledge than others. In Mr. Hirsch’s view that’s precisely why children should be exposed to more content: Educators “simply haven’t faced up to their duty to provide a coherent sequence of knowledge to children.” 
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Playlist)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Recommendation)
  12. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from mikelink45 for a blog entry, What I'm Reading   
    Welcome to What I'm Reading. This is a collection of interesting or insightful articles I’ve read this past week.
     
    Behind Nelson Cruz’s Maniacal Preparation:
     
    From his Seattle Mariner days but a reminder of how much work the 40-year-old Cruz puts in to maintain his elite level of play.
     

    Nap time can vary, but it’s daily. 

    “If we play at home, I like to do it after BP,” he said. “If we are on the road, I do it before BP.”
    Post nap will include a dip in the cold tub for about five minutes, followed by some time in the warm tub. 

    Cruz’s on-field workout is another process. He doesn’t walk into the cage and try to bomb homers. There’s a plan to his batting practice, which includes driving the ball to the opposite field. Sure, by the end, he’s launching balls over the fence at distances his teammates only wish they could reach. 

    But he’s become a more complete hitter by showing this discipline in batting practice. Though he rarely plays in the field anymore, Cruz will still take fly balls on most days because he still wants to play in the outfield at some point. He’ll even take ground balls in the infield to keep his body active. 

    “It’s fun for me,” he said. 
    Kansas City Royals Pitching Development Has Changed:
     

    “We’re not going to draft a guy, have them come in and be like, ‘We need to do this, this and this,'” Stetter said. “The biggest thing is, you have to trust your eyes. If a pitch is working, the hitter is going to tell you. The hitter is going to let you know if your stuff is good enough. And if it is, you’re going to keep going with it. And if you get to Double-A and the hitters start hitting it, you’re not getting swings and misses, we’ll know what kind of changes we might make to that pitch to make it better.” 

    {snip} 

    “A lot of times, if you’re having a guy throw a four-seam, and it’s got a two-seam tilt, it might not always add up that he should be throwing all four-seams,” Stetter said. “There’s some stuff with Rapsodo and Edgertronic camera where we can sit there and make a decision on a guy, where, it might be more beneficial if he throws more two-seams, or it might be beneficial that he throws more four-seams. With new technology, you can tailor it to the guy. Certain grips play better to horizontal-breaking sliders.” 
    Joe West Never Missed A Call:
     

    "This is what people don't understand: When an umpire has a bad night, he goes back and looks at it," he said. "There has to be a reason you missed the call. Three ways you can miss a call: lack of concentration, lack of positioning, lack of timing. The Denkinger play at first base [in 1985 when the] Cardinals lost the World Series to the Royals. Don Denkinger overhustled on that play. He took himself out of position to see that play. Is that a bad thing that he hustled? No. But he put himself in the wrong spot. He's one of the best umpires the American League has ever had. He's remembered for that call. That's not fair. There's no batting average for performance for an umpire. They grade you, yes. But when you miss some, you can't go out and hit a homer. You have no recourse to get that back." 
    99-Year-Old Roger Angell On Modern Baseball Statistics:
     

    I think some of the new stats are useful. Good baseball played by Major Leaguers is so far beyond us—it’s the hardest game in the world to play well. And what underlies [the stat revolution] is, I think, a conscious and effective way to get some of this back, to say, “We know better. We know what the batters are doing. They don’t know what they’re doing.” It’s understandable, but it doesn’t add to the joy of the game for me. I’m not very statistical by nature, so I could be wrong about this. And I know a lot of people now use these stats and talk about them with interest. But also, it’s part of the huge alteration of the game itself. People tilting their swings and swinging for homers and striking out in huge numbers. This is a gigantic change in the game. I think home runs are OK, but on the whole, I prefer a triple. 
    Are We Teaching Wrong?

    Mr. Hirsch also takes issue with grade schools’ focus on “skills.” Whether it is imparting “critical thinking skills,” “communication skills” or “problem-solving skills,” he says such instruction is a waste of time in the absence of specific knowledge. He describes the findings of the National Academy of Sciences on the subject of the “domain specificity of human skills.” What this means, he explains in the new book, “is that being good at tennis does not make you good at golf or soccer. You may be a talented person with great hand-eye coordination—and indeed there are native general abilities that can be nurtured in different ways—but being a first-class swimmer will not make a person good at hockey.” 

    He cites the “baseball study,” conducted by researchers at Marquette University in the 1980s, which found that kids who knew more about how baseball was played performed better when answering questions about a text on baseball than those who didn’t understand the game—regardless of their reading level. The conventional response in education circles is that standardized tests are unfair because some kids are exposed to more specific knowledge than others. In Mr. Hirsch’s view that’s precisely why children should be exposed to more content: Educators “simply haven’t faced up to their duty to provide a coherent sequence of knowledge to children.” 
    What I'm Listening To (Spotify Playlist)
     
    What I'm Listening To (Podcast Recommendation)
  13. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Hosken Bombo Disco for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  14. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Musk21 for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  15. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from thuuuuney for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  16. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Squirrel for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  17. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from TFRazor for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  18. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Doctor Gast for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  19. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from woolywoolhouse for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  20. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from VOMG for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  21. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from nclahammer for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  22. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from Platoon for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  23. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from dcswede for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  24. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from ToddlerHarmon for a blog entry, What Are We Going To Do About This Hand Twin Thing?   
    A friend of mine passed away over the holiday weekend.
     
    We had attended high school together, were distant friends through college, and spent two years as roommates back in the cities after that.
     
    When we lived together, he was attending culinary school and the roommates would have the benefit of eating food that is normally not accessible to broke post-college kids trying to repay student loans. He would concoct four course meals and we were more than happy to be test subjects.
     
    We’d declare it the best thing we’ve ever eaten and he, being his own worst critic, would inform us that it was garbage and would vow to make it better next time.
     
    He modeled himself a bit after Anthony Bourdain. He had a beat up copy of Kitchen Confidential that he constantly implored me to read. I never did.
     
    Eventually the house split up. We went separate ways and saw each other less. Everyone my age or older likely has friendships like that. I had a growing family and he was launching a culinary career that took him to Central America and Alaska for work.
     
    The relationship became just a bi-yearly message to each other on Facebook, randomly sharing a couple inside jokes and stupid obscure pop culture references. We exchanged one just the previous week.
     
    He sent a one-liner: What are we going to do about this hand twin thing?
     
    It came from a Friends episode we watched years ago. He had an ability to bring groups of people together and our house used to host viewing parties during the final seasons. The line, delivered by Joey Tribbiani in the bathroom of a casino, always cracked us up. Sharing innocuous lines like that over the years just let each other know you were thinking about them.
     
    I spent most of Sunday night reflecting on our time. I spoke with another roommate of ours who had moved out of state as well. We shared memories of the years we all lived together.
     
    I realized how much baseball fandom can imprint on our lives.
     
    He once hosted a weekend-long party at his college house in Duluth. It was epic, as the kids would say. Thinking back to the revelry, I also remember slipping away to see Matt Lawton hit two home runs in Cleveland.
     
    Another time he went to visit a girl in New York City. He returned with a small panoramic of the old Yankee Stadium that he got at a secondhand shop because he knew how much I despised the Yankees. I still have that picture and I still hate the Yankees.
     
    His family would host gatherings at their cabin in northern Minnesota. They were amazingly hospitable people. His mom legitimately made the best sloppy joes. When my daughter wasn’t even a year old, he invited us for a low-key weekend of boating and bonfires. On the drive home, as my little girl slept in the back, I listened to Johan Santana’s 17-strikeout performance on the radio.
     
    When the Twins had a weekend series at Wrigley Field, we ran into each other at the Cubby Bear, the bar across the street from the stadium. We took time to share a Cubby Blue Bomb together, update each other on our current lives, and then went back to the separate group of friends we came with into Chicago.
     
    The last time we saw each other in person I was handing off tickets to him before a Twins game.
     
    We met at The Depot Tavern and played catch up. His seats were on one side of the ballpark and ours were on the other. We vowed to meet on the concourse or somewhere after the game but neither of us followed through.
     
    You are not supposed to live with regrets yet we do. I regret not reaching out more, not making an effort to stay connected. I regret not checking in more frequently to hear about his family, fiancee, and other adventures.
     
    Thirty-nine is way too young. You feel like you always have more time: There will be some other opportunity to catch up, there will be some other chance to reconnect, or some other time to say those were amazing memories.
     
    Looking back, I admired how he followed his passion. We were just becoming functioning adults and he already knew that he wanted to run kitchens and make people happy through food. Someone shared a video of him teaching a culinary class in a Facebook remembrance, making the room laugh in doing so. In a way he did become a version of Bourdain, traveling the world and experiencing cuisine in parts unknown.
     
    Maybe now I’ll listen to him and read that book.
  25. Like
    Parker Hageman got a reaction from nclahammer for a blog entry, Baseball Is Back. So Am I.   
    The question I’ve received the most the past few months is why was my original Twitter account suspended.
     
    On March 13 I was covering the Twins in Fort Myers on what would be the last normal day before everything in this world went goofy.
     
    I awoke at the Twins Daily-rented AirBnB, and immediately checked Twitter on my phone as I am wont to do in case I missed something earth shattering in the six hours since I last peeked in.
     

     
     
    Account suspended, it read.
     
    I couldn’t pull down the stream to get that satisfying no-clip-scissor-ride-through-wrapping-paper when refreshing a completely new set of tweets on my feed. I couldn’t get that dopamine rush of seeing that someone liked or retweeted some content I had created. I simply got nothing.
     
    I flipped over to my Gmail and found this.
     

     
    It was a DMCA takedown notice -- removal of video content in which the music was copyrighted, in this case, the song “Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship and owned by Sony Entertainment Group.
     
    Jfc.
     
    I had just moved up my flight to make sure I wasn’t stranded on America’s sweaty jockstrap of an isthmus and now my main portal of information to the outside world was cut.
     
    How did this happen?
     
    I had started by making Vines --a defunct application that featured seven second video clips that loops-- with game highlights set to Starship’s 1987 hit song. It was a nod to the World Series winning team. The bit became somewhat of a localized hit. Soon, people would tweet at me after big victories, asking for their nightly montage.
     
    When the Twins fell flat on their face in 2016, I created a longer lowlight version and it took off. It was a blooper reel set to perfect music for the occasion. A surprising amount of people would thank me for posting them. People affiliated with the team would even reach out. It became an annual tradition.
     
    I didn’t get anything out of it other than smug, self-satisfaction that I had contributed just a little bit of joy to this awful, awful world. Now I was being accused of pirating Starship’s music (ok), using it inappropriately (whatever), and had violated Twitter’s rules (yap).
     
    While covering the Twins in Florida this spring, I read Stephen Witt’s illuminating book on the music industry, How Music Got Free. It documents the rise of mp3s, Napster, iTunes, and VEVO from the 1980s through today. It reads like the Moneyball of music. Highly recommended.
     
    It also helped me understand how we got to the point of suspending accounts like mine.
     
    Long ago, in the 1990s, a music executive named Doug Morris was printing money by selling CDs based on one or two hit songs surrounded by unlistenable garbage. Because we could not wait to listen to “Mmmbop” on the radio, we’d slap down $17 to listen to an entire album of dreck.
     
    But then Napster showed up and saved us. While illegal, it gave the world a better business model than what Morris was providing.
     
    When iTunes and the iPod finally killed CDs, Morris discovered the rising popularity of YouTube and how his grandkids were watching music videos on that site. He then created VEVO, bought a giant catalogue of the music, and in 2007 he sent his lawyers to takedown any videos created using VEVO-owned music.
     
    If you posted a video of yourself baking a cake set to 50 Cent's "In Da Club", it was ripped down. No more sampling the goods. If you wanted to hear a song, you either had to pay or listen on a revenue-generating platform.
     
    Morris is now the chairman of Sony Entertainment Group. The same outfit that owns the rights to Starship’s song. So you can see how that company would aggressively protect its property.
     
    Twitter does not want to run afoul of music’s law dogs like the RIAA or the IFPI -- the enforcement arms of the record companies -- and has a policy that prevents users from posting videos with non-licensed music in it. They even assist in the flagging of potential violators.
     
    But it is not always consistent.
     
    After The Last Dance aired, an account on Twitter was spawned that showed Michael Jordan rocking out to more contemporary tunes. That account has over 52,000 followers and no takedowns or suspensions.
     
    You’ve probably seen numerous videos showing crushing sports moments set to one of the worst songs of all time, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”.
     
    One account, @TitanicTD, who affixed the song on top of NFL and college football touchdown highlights, was suspended in early 2020. Perhaps not surprisingly, Celine’s ballad is also property of Sony Entertainment Group.
     
    While I understood the general rules and risks, I had considered my use of the song protected under the Fair Use guidelines on Twitter.
     
    I used a portion of the song, not reposted the entirety. There was no monetary gain for the video, it was non-commercial. I wasn’t attempting to claim ownership.
     
    In my mind I was giving life to a lifeless song that was over thirty years old. If I had the ability to access Spotify’s data, I would bet since I began posting the tribute videos, that song’s streaming numbers on the music app probably jumped by the tens. (THE TENS!)
     
    The Fair Use act is definitely something that is difficult to argue as it is almost completely subjective and open for interpretation. For some reason I figured Twitter would understand my position. At the very least, I figured they would ask me to delete the video, not suspend my account for months.
     
    And there is some legal context for it.
     
    In 2008 Universal Music Group, then headed by the aforementioned Morris, issued a DMCA takedown to YouTube for the video of a

    The 13-month-old’s mother and video’s creator, Stephanie Lenz, responded to YouTube citing Fair Use and YouTube reinstated the video. Lenz then sued Universal for misrepresentation under the DMCA, hoping to set a precedent against companies going after videos like hers. Ultimately the courts ruled in Lenz’s favor but as the case ascended to higher courts, the two parties eventually settled when the Supreme Court declined to hear the case.
     
    Lenz’s video remains posted on YouTube. But even now Twitter users regularly receive DMCA takedowns for videos where music is inadvertently captured in the background at events or weddings. Two months after my suspension, the Star Tribune’s Michael Rand had one of his tweets flagged.
     

    https://twitter.com/RandBall/status/1260942572572246016

     
    Twitter, however, is cowing to the International Federation of Phonographic Industry (IFPI) and has been aggressively botting users’ feeds to find anything that can be construed as stolen music. According to one article, Twitter’s system has failed to decipher between which music videos are Fair Use and which are actual copyright violations. And numerous users, like Randball above, in early 2020 received temporary suspensions over perceived violations.
     
    Over the next few weeks I sent multiple emails to the Twitter copyright department, Twitter itself, and even to Greame Grant, IFPI’s Director of Anti-Piracy. I explained myself, my motivations and said I would never do something so egregious as providing their client with free advertisement again. The only thing I didn’t do was drive to the nearest rural casino to catch Starship on tour and beg the band for forgiveness.
     
    I did not receive one response beside the form email Twitter sends out encouraging violators to reach out to the copyright submitter -- in this case IFPI -- in hopes of getting them to retract the takedown request.
     
    So that’s what happened to my Twitter account.
     
    I was frustrated at the platform. The lack of response. The lack of consistency in punishment. I didn’t want to come back, not until my original account was freed. I did not want to give Twitter the satisfaction of having to rebrand and regrow. Since joining that hot steaming mess in June 2009 I have built a good following, a good brand and even better contacts (one of the worst parts about being suspended is that you cannot access your DMs or followers lists).
     
    That’s why I didn’t start tweeting from a new account right away.
     
    Plus, you know…[gestures everywhere]...this.
     
    Truthfully, given the state of the country and the on-going battle with the coronavirus, I don’t have the utmost confidence that baseball will actually be played come the end of the month. That being said, since the game is moving forward for now and there is some honest-to-goodness baseball happening at Target Field, I’ve come out of the shadows from my other account.
     
    I’m ready to talk about baseball again.
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