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"How are you doing?" each visitor would say, smiling sadly, as he or she entered my room.
"Oh," I’d say, adding a very slight wince to my brave smile. "I can’t complain."
"You’re so brave," the loving visitor would say. "And hey, I brought you a bootleg video of all eight episodes of Quark."
As fantasies go, it’s probably not as alarming as, say, fantasizing about going one step further and offing oneself, but it’s not exactly a sign of robust mental and spiritual well-being. I mean, consider that oft-mentioned and supposedly motivational notion of a deathbed, as in "When you are on your deathbed, how are you going to look back on your life?" (It’s supposed to inspire you to seize the day, I guess.) But in my fantasy, when I’m finally on my deathbed and looking back at my life, I’ll be looking back at a life spent on a deathbed. Which is a pretty narrow way to go through life. And so when things start to seem narrow, from now on, I will try to remember Expansion Day.
As Expansion Day approaches I’ll have more to say about it, maybe, about what it means to me, about the rituals involved in such a day, about the many legends and miracles intertwined with that day, but for right now I will just pass along the date of this holy day, November 5, and take a stab at the core of its importance to me and my ridiculous religion: It is about possibilities.
Lame as it is, there is a certain purity to my religion, in that I am its only adherent. This will always be the case, but if instead it followed the path of development of other religions fissures and splits would inevitably occur. Take Expansion Day. The cleancut, success-oriented BlueJayists would emphasize the day as one in which seeds of future glory were wisely planted, while the more fatalistic Marinerites would find complicated klezmeresque celebration among the inescapable solemnity of life. Joy in the tears. The list of names would be at issue, the Holy List of the Expanded, and among the names of the Blue Jays would be some, Whitt, Clancy, Iorg, who would one day rise up from the ignominy of being deemed unnecessary to appear in the miraculous baseball version of the afterlife called the postseason, whereas among the Mariners listed there seem to be only years of neither rising nor falling, none of the Holy Names ever offering any readily apparent deliverance.
But still, even though you are marginal, unimportant, unprotected, cut loose, drifting, possibilities dwindling or gone, there is Expansion. You are chosen.
Now playing in my head: http://tinyurl.com/6hu6ql
Speaking of mysteries, that Spencer deal is kinda hard to figure from the White Sox perspective. Thomas and a minor leaguer for Spencer and a couple other guys doesn't quite equate; Spencer had just put up decent power numbers and won a Gold Glove in '77. I guess there was still hope that Stan Thomas would regain the promise of his pre-Mariner years.
His cap & uniform shirt look doctored and since the Mariners played in a dome that clearly isn't their home stadium in the background. Must be a photo taken when he was on Cleveland in 1976.
I don't know why I remember that he was on the Yankees, but as soon as I saw the card I thought "he was on the Yankees, wasn't he?".
Mystery solved
On July 10 of 1977, the Twins were playing the Seattle Mariners. I was listening to the game while riding in the back end of our Dodge station wagon.
With nobody on in the first inning, up came Mike Cubbage against Stan Thomas. Thomas fired the first pitch at Cubbage's head. It missed. Seemed odd, Herb Carneal said, this early in the game for a pitcher to be throwing at somebody.
Next pitch, same place. Thomas missed Cubbage again. Third pitch, right at Cubbage's legs. Fourth pitch, again, right at Cubbage's shoulder. He walked. Carneal was really buffaloed. What was going on?
Darrell Johnson, the Seattle manager came out of the dugout. He pulled Thomas from the game. A few days later, Thomas was traded to the Yankees. A few weeks after that, he was traded to the White Sox, and by the next spring he was out of baseball.
Turns out, Thomas and Cubbage were roomates at one time in the minor leagues. It didn't come out at the time, but thanks to Warroad blogger Seth, I found out just now the reason for the blowup: Cubbage had stolen Thomas' girlfriend.
Uff da. You'd think that wouldn't be worth ruining your major league career.
What happened was that, after the season, his players all walked away. OK, they ran.
November 1, 1976
Sal Bando granted Free Agency.
Don Baylor granted Free Agency.
Bert Campaneris granted Free Agency.
Nate Colbert granted Free Agency.
Rollie Fingers granted Free Agency.
Willie McCovey granted Free Agency.
Joe Rudi granted Free Agency.
Gene Tenace granted Free Agency.
I dug up the link for that post, from the blog entitled Country Scribe (you have to scroll down to see the Stan Thomas info):
http://tinyurl.com/5d5mbz
I'm actually reading a novel right now called California Rush that hinges on a woman-related incident in the minors that causes one player to dedicate his life to getting revenge on another player.
One other piece of Stan Thomas arcana: On the back of this card, Thomas' home is listed as Mexico, Maine.
16 I knew a guy from Indiana, Pennsylvania.
At first I confused him with Roy Thomas -- another largely forgettable swabbie on the Mariners' eternal journey to nowhere.
His name escapes me for the moment.
Josh, did you see Wall E? The hoverchairs from the second half of that movie sound a little like what you're talking about.
19 Helluva trade. For that matter, before they all walked out on him, Finley had built up one hell of a team - the talent and balance to beat you every way possible, fun and interesting to watch.
"This is the day / Of the expanding man / That shape is my shade / There where I used to stand"
and also includes:
"So useless to ask me why / Throw a kiss and say goodbye / I'll make it this time / I'm ready to cross that fine line"
which all seems oddly relevant to expansion drafts, guys leaving teams, and beer guts.
3 CG trivia time: Is this the first post to not include the player in the main copy, only in the comments section?
I've never quite seen the light with them yet, but that song you quote has certainly gotten caught in my head before, especially the line "I want a name when I lose."
Trivia question answer hint: Obsessive own-hair-sniffer featured in classic 1970s baseball book.
on the back of a winged horse
through the sky, pearly grey
love is leaf-like
you and me, baby
twinkle, twinkle
blah blah blah
e t c
D. Boon was a great American, and I've long loved and been inspired by Mike Watt (and am looking forward to seeing him play bass for The Stooges in a couple weeks). Only recently have I seen the light about Hurley. Jesus was he an amazing drummer. What a band they were.
But I've never seen "The Decline of Western Civilization Volume 1", so I may be off base about it.
"I must look like a dork".
I think of that line often.
Before the season started, Seattle traded him to KC, where he won Rookie of the Year.
I also saw them twice in L.A. in September of that year, including 1 acoustic show. It was so sad when he died a few months later.
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