We survived the long, painful six months without baseball.

We can let go of an injury-riddled season, of Buster Posey’s horrific collision with Scott Cousins, of Andres Torres’s bittersweet departure.

It’s a new season and anything feels possible. These are not original or unfamiliar words to write, but they are so, so sweet today.

2012, here we come.

Take a hint, guys: this is not the way to begin a conversation with the girl you see sitting in the stands. When the gentleman who posed this question found out that I wasn’t there to see my boyfriend or husband play—let alone to try and snag one—he swiftly switched the subject to the dedication and loyalty of the Mariners fan base.

Surprisingly, this wasn’t the first frustrating conversation of my morning. Earlier in the day, another stranger asked me why I was going to watch the Mariners. Before I could reply, the answer dawned on him. “Oh, I know why you’re going. You just like watching the players. I get it.”

You can stick “Are you dating the players?” right up there with “Are you pregnant?” on the list of questions you should never ask women. It’s not just the insulting assumption that a woman must be romantically involved with a player to enjoy baseball, but the idea that she needs to explain why she’s a fan before she can fully be accepted into the inner sanctum of the Male Sports World.

Over the past two years of my baseball fandom, I’ve witnessed many instances of discrimination against female fans and writers. Most recently, it appeared in the form of an article from SeedSpitters, titled “Baseball knowledge and an appreciation for significant others.” In it, the author applauds women for “hopping on the Giants bandwagon on behalf of their men,” and confidently proclaims that while “men constantly yearn for baseball knowledge,” most women do not.

Never mind that he is oblivious to the 47% of female fans in MLB. Never mind that talented women writers make consistently brilliant contributions to sports sites like SB Nation, Fangraphs, and Baseball Prospectus. Never mind that the possession or lack of certain body parts doesn’t have any bearing on a person’s ability to enjoy, understand, or analyze baseball.

What makes me most upset, whether a so-called sportswriter is rejoicing in his girlfriend’s “attempt to understand baseball” or another fan is questioning my relationship status, is that instances like this place us back on defense. In order to be taken seriously as fans, we have to repeatedly prove our knowledge of the game and our loyalty to a team.

Even if our dedication appears sincere, the assumption remains that our love for baseball must stem from a desire to please our boyfriends, husbands, fathers, brothers, or male friends. More often than not, we actually have to say the words, “No, I’m not dating a player. No, I don’t watch baseball because the players are cute.”

For the men who profess to be delighted by this sudden and strange influx of women in the sports world, here’s a novel idea: try talking to me about the game instead of gaping at the fact that I’m sitting next to you in the stands. Until then, asking me which player I find the most attractive will get you nowhere.

John Ward, 1885 Providence Grays
John was 23 years old when he broke into the major leagues. He pitched 8.0 innings, struck out three batters and gave up ten hits, seven runs, and one walk. In his three at-bats, John struck out twice. This is his only recorded game.

Harry Fuller, 1891 St. Louis Browns
A 29-year-old third baseman, Harry struck out once in his two at-bats. The year prior to his debut, he played for the 1 ½ season Texas League Waco Babies.

Frank Kelliher, 1919 Washington Senators
Frank lasted for a single at-bat in the majors. Even worse, he was listed as a pinch-hitter that day.

Russ Ennis, 1926 Washington Senators
Russ may have made it as a 29-year-old catcher, but he never stood at the plate to bat.

Frank Trechock, 1937 Washington Senators
Finally, a player with a hit to his name. A 22-year-old shortstop, Frank finished the game with four at-bats, two hits, and one strikeout.

Jerry Lynn, 1937 Washington Senators
Frank’s teammate, 21-year-old second baseman Jerry Lynn, reached the majors on the same day. He was even luckier at the plate, going 2-for-3 with a single and a double.

Fred Marolewski, 1953 St. Louis Cardinals
Unfortunately, Fred also falls under the category of players who reached the majors but not the batter’s box.

Gordie Sundin, 1956 Baltimore Orioles
Gordie is the youngest of this bunch, making his pitching debut at just 19 years old. He is credited with 0.0 IP, two walks, and one earned run in two batters faced.

Jesse Hudson, 1969 New York Mets
Another young pitcher, 21-year-old Jesse lasted 2.0 innings with the Mets, facing ten batters for three strikeouts, two walks, two hits, and two earned runs.

John Lickert, 1981 Boston Red Sox
John spent nine innings behind the plate, but failed to record a plate appearance.

Jeff Richardson, 1990 California Angels
Of all these obscure one-time players, Jeff has to be my favorite. First, he made his debut on the day I was born. Secondly, he pitched 0.1 innings, facing two batters, allowing a hit, and somehow escaping with a 0.00 ERA. And lastly, his major league initiation was also the final game of his major and minor league career.

Of course, I don’t mean to be cruel by suggesting that I chose a favorite player because his career ended just as he completed a significant milestone. I simply find it interesting that a 12-5 loss to the Detroit Tigers abruptly terminated his six-year journey to the major leagues.

Should the brief stories of these eleven players inspire you to research the other 961 major league debuts, you can find the complete list here.

First, Torii Hunter gets traded for Blake Beavan in the middle of a game.

Then, Andrew Taylor is called upon to replace himself.

Miles Mikolas is also asked to replace himself.

Perhaps all of these pitchers have stunt doubles.

Finally, the most impressive at bat I’ve ever seen out of Joe Panik.

]]> http://westcoastfangirl.mlblogs.com/2012/03/07/oh-gameday/feed/ 0 47.740478 -121.986148 47.740478 -121.986148 Annelise 7abab592689b11e18bb812313804a181_7 b3ec6c4f6c0043258cd22ef1328bdf8a_7 50a117ba0fdb11e180c9123138016265_7 14bab80467cf11e1abb01231381b65e3_7 1c759eca4b334c4a9b6c284774c50b4d_7 http://westcoastfangirl.mlblogs.com/2012/03/06/out-of-my-league/ http://westcoastfangirl.mlblogs.com/2012/03/06/out-of-my-league/#comments Tue, 06 Mar 2012 20:00:38 +0000 Ashley V http://westcoastfangirl.mlblogs.com/?p=2193027 Continue reading →]]> Typically, I won’t buy a book after watching its author spend the day promoting it online. Typically, I won’t download said book to my phone instead of waiting until the next day to pick it up from a bookstore.

Then again, Out of My League is not a typical book.

Dirk Hayhurst is a minor league pitcher chasing the elusive major league dream. He lives with his grandmother. He dates Bonnie, a music therapist from eHarmony. He diligently climbs the rungs of the Padres’ farm system. And one day, he gets The Call.

It’s a touching story of hard work, success, and failure, but not one made unique by any event Dirk so vividly details. Rather, it’s the way he builds character, humor, and candor into each chapter that elicits both empathy and admiration. You get the feeling that there is nothing you could ask him that he wouldn’t reveal, from the tumult of his family life, to the triumph of his love life, to the struggle of his personal life.

Of course, the stories are pretty wild, too. Dirk invents the Garfoose, a mythical animal that doubles as his Twitter handle and serves as a good luck charm in his career. He gets caught in the middle of a transvestite convention. He boards a plane full of players in Hooters uniforms.

(And really, if the above paragraph doesn’t inspire you to pick up this book, nothing will.)

In one of the most moving parts of the book, Dirk’s loyalty to a major league baseball career is called into question. Despite a lifelong pursuit of the ultimate baseball dream, he is challenged when that dream begins to change shape. “I realized that everyone has their reasons to play,” he says, watching a fellow teammate take the mound. “But whatever those reasons are, to work they have to be able to change, to evolve, just like we do.” Dirk wrestles with the reasons fueling his career from page 1 to page 406 (relax, I’m talking about the Kindle edition), and finally finds peace in a life that encompasses both baseball and family. Of course, to discover just how he makes his peace with this, you’ll have to read the book… and probably the next one he writes, too.

Now, I could write a compelling final paragraph that will have you speeding to the nearest Barnes & Noble, but I’ll make this easy on you. You can purchase Out of My League here. Download it. Read it. And then go follow Dirk Hayhurst (TheGarfoose) on Twitter and tell him how his book has, hopefully, impacted your understanding and appreciation for America’s pastime.

However, there’s one bone I have to pick with Twitter, and it’s this: there is no way for me to transition smoothly from cyber friendships to real friendships.

Now, I’m not talking about scary Internet strangers or looking to bring up safety issues. It’s not as if I have a goal of meeting every one of my 300-something followers—at least a third of whom seem to be weird spambots. I’m just talking about the average baseball fan you might meet at Safeco Field or AT&T Park or your mother’s basement (no offense).

Here’s an example. Last month, I attended the Mariners’ annual FanFest at Safeco. Unable to coerce any of my friends or family into joining me, I went alone, fully intending to indulge in six hours of baseball interviews, discussions, and autographs. While standing in line with 499 other fans to get Jesus Montero’s autograph, I started chatting with some friends on Twitter, and decided it might be fun to meet up with some of them after the main events of the day.

Off I went to Dugout Dialogue, where 70 fans or so were crowded around the third base line to hear players chat about the upcoming season. As I waited for the interviews to conclude, I spotted several Mariners fans I follow on Twitter. The more I looked around, the more tweeters I found. This is great! I thought. Look at all these people I’ve chatted with on Twitter. I should say hi!

Before I could jump out of my seat to say hello, I realized I had no idea how to introduce myself. Sure, I could just walk up and say hi, or make some witty and tweet-worthy comment about the latest round of player interviews, but I felt self-conscious about walking over several rows of people just to make these “offhand” comments. Then, it occurred to me that some of them didn’t even follow me back on Twitter. They would probably (and rightly) assume that it was creepy I should recognize them from Twitter, especially if they didn’t recognize me. I couldn’t very well go up and say, “Hi, I’m Ashley. I follow you on Twitter. You may or may not know me as @wcoastfangirl.” I promise I’m not a stalker in real life, but Twitter does not help with this at all.

In the end, I decided to stay put. Three people I talked to on Twitter—let me clarify, these were people I had already arranged to meet up with—somehow found me, and without much awkwardness, we enjoyed a great conversation while the park slowly emptied.

So, Twitter friends, if we ever happen to be in the same ballpark and you’d like to meet up, feel free to come up to me and say, “Hey, I know you from Twitter.” Sadly, I just can’t bring myself to do the same.

I also did not grow up enjoying Mariners baseball, although my parents took me to a few games as a kid. I can’t tell you any of the players from those games, much less the final scores. My only childhood memory of the Mariners is confined to standing in line for hot dogs with my mom and betting on the outcome of a hydros race.

When I started watching baseball in earnest two years ago, I fell in love with the Giants. I didn’t mean to at first; they were just supposed to introduce me to the sport, since I was hesitant about following a Seattle-based team with a poor track record. To make a short story shorter, watching Andres Torres sparked my interest in the team, and following the Giants’ ride to a World Series championship cemented my affection and loyalty.

This offseason, however, I have found myself inexplicably drawn to the Mariners. Maybe it’s because I finally realized there is a wealth of baseball at my disposal. (The commute is certainly easier, a mere 29 miles versus the 828-mile trek to AT&T Park.) Perhaps it’s because Safeco Field feels like a second home. Whatever the reason, I know that my affinity for the M’s is not a substitute for the Giants.

Of course, following several teams is bound to bring on a little skepticism from both fan bases. The questions go something like this: “So, if you had to choose, which team would you pick? Who would you want to win in a Mariners-Giants World Series? Who will you root for when the Giants come to Seattle this summer?”

This may come as a surprise and disappointment to my fellow Mariners fans, but these are fairly easy questions to answer. I’d pick the Giants every time. Although I love the Mariners, although I will stand behind them through difficult seasons ahead and believe in their ability to reach the World Series, and although it pains me to watch my two favorite teams face each other, it simply wouldn’t feel right to ever root against the Giants. They came first. Without them, I wouldn’t be writing this blog post, and I wouldn’t love baseball.

I’ve been told before that choosing two teams cheapens the experience of watching baseball. Giants fans don’t understand why I care about the Mariners, while Mariners fans give me strange looks for saying I love the Giants (to be fair, this usually happens when I’m sitting in the Safe). But hey, whether you love the Giants or the Mariners, you have to be glad I’m not an A’s fan, right?

Despite the title of this post, this won’t be a plug for my entry into the 2012 MLB Fan Cave. Actually, I didn’t apply for the Fan Cave, if only because I prefer blogging to vlogging and the thought of competing against other fans is more than a little scary (should I choose to apply in 2013, please disregard that sentence).

Instead, I’ve been watching countless YouTube videos to see how far these fans will go to sit on a couch in New York City and watch over 2,000 baseball games. Here are my three favorite submissions so far. You go, MLB fans!

First up, Toronto fan and cap fanatic Pat Doran. He gets my vote if and only if he wears all these caps during his time in the Fan Cave.

Next, Detroit fan Jay Tuohey. He holds doors open for other fans and cries during Field of Dreams and… okay, his video just made me laugh. And the future “Designated Sitters” should make us laugh, right?

Finally, San Francisco diehard Ally Williams. If there’s anyone I want to see in the Fan Cave, it’s a female fan who loves her Giants!

Who gets your vote?

As a writer, I know that personally, the biggest two needs I have to fill are 1) finding topics to write about, and 2) getting people to read those thoughts. However, when it comes to applying for blogging networks, I’m finding that the really successful sites also have tight-knit communities where you can bounce ideas off each other, help promote great work, and improve the quality of your own writing.

Back to the point… this great site I write for called Aerys Sports is gearing up for Spring Training, and it’s their goal to cover all these MLB teams by Opening Day. Check out the openings below and see if your favorite team needs a writer!

National League Teams 

• Arizona Diamondbacks – Snakes on the Grass
• Atlanta Braves – She’s Out Of Your League
• Chicago Cubs – A League Of Her Own
• Cincinnati Reds – C-ing Red
• Houston Astros – Tales From the Juicebox
• Los Angeles Dodgers – Ravine Report
• Miami Marlins – A Fishy Situation
• Milwaukee Brewers – Fresh Brewed
• New York Mets – Curious Case of Sidd Finch
• Philadelphia Phillies – View From Section 116
• San Francisco Giants – Third Street Kings
• San Diego Padres – COMING SOON
• St. Louis Cardinals – Aaron Miles’ Fastball
• Washington Nationals – Win For Teddy

American League Teams

• Baltimore Orioles – Charm City Yakyuu
• Boston Red Sox – Fenway Fatales
• Chicago White Sox – South Side Hit Girl
• Detroit Tigers – Tigers Amateur Analysis
• Kansas City Royals – Drinking the Royals Blue Aid
• New York Yankees – Spreadin’ the News
• Oakland Athletics – Oaktown Breakdown
• Seattle Mariners – Needle Ball
• Tampa Bay Rays – Cowbell Clankers
• Texas Rangers – Big Game Claws
• Toronto Blue Jays – The Way of the Jay 

Contributing Writer Openings

You can apply if: You love baseball!

Teams: All MLB teams

Who to contact: Click on the website you’re interested in, and contact the Lead Writers through Aerys.

Lead Writers

You can apply if: You’re a girl who loves baseball! (Sorry, guys…)

Teams: Colorado Rockies (hurry, this one might be filled soon!), Pittsburgh Pirates, Minnesota Twins, Cleveland Indians, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (this might also be filled soon!)

Who to contact: Reply to us at @AerysSports, @Aerys_MLB, or through Tumblr.

Questions? Leave them in the comments!

Credit: Brian Rothmuller/Flickr

A little over a month ago, Andres Torres was dealt to the Mets for Angel Pagan. I have thought many times about writing down my feelings on this trade, and read many wonderfully penned tributes to him as a ballplayer, a Giant, and a man of great kindness and character. This story will not come close to touching those articles, because there is still too much emotion attached to the loss of Torres for me to write anything well.

In the summer of 2010, I was just getting acquainted with baseball. I had watched a handful of games, chatted briefly with fans on Twitter, and was for the most part enjoying myself. Baseball was fun, but it wasn’t my life.

That all changed one day in June, during a game I have frequently and unsuccessfully tried to recall. Perhaps it is a moment that exists more clearly in my memory than in any Gameday log. It was a late afternoon at AT&T Park, and Andres Torres was on first base. Without warning, he took off for second, then dove for third. I had never seen anything like it. (In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t know you were even allowed to steal a base, let alone two at a time.) I don’t remember the opposing team, the resulting play, or the outcome of the game, but I do remember feeling captivated by Torres, and over the next few weeks, the Giants as a whole.

That began the best first year I could’ve hoped for as a baseball fan—one that started with a heart-stopping play and ended with a World Series Championship. Every story I hear of Torres’s genuine care for others and unwavering dedication to the Giants has furthered my appreciation for his time spent in San Francisco. Above all else, I will always be grateful to him for helping me fall in love with Giants baseball.