Trouble is a good thing sometimes

This winter, my buddy Al from out in Scotsburn burned me a copy of “The Last Play at Shea” (yes, he stole it), which is part Billy Joel biography and also a historical look at Shea Stadium in New York, the former home of the new era hats sale Mets that was torn down a couple of years ago. I have watched this DVD now at least 20 times: it is so completely cool that I can’t tell you how cool it is. You don’t even have to like baseball or Billy Joel to like this DVD.

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Thanks somewhat to Christie Brinkley and Paul McCartney – it would take too much time to fully explain this, you’ll have to steal the DVD for yourself – I am now a New York Mets fan, or at least enough of one to want to buy a Mets cap.
Speaking of the Mets, it dates me to type this but Gary Carter was my first baseball hero, maybe my only true one. I still remember the night I was at my grandparents’ house watching an Expos’ game – this would have been when I was about 10 – and Carter was at bat, and I told my grandfather that Gary Carter was my favourite ballplayer and I hoped he’d hit a home run. Just to show that the baseball new era men hatsgods smile on everybody once in awhile, a couple pitches later The Kid came through for me, slamming one over the left field fence. It’s funny how a relatively insignificant moment like that will stay with you (my grandfather, probably the most likeable of my family members, was buried more than a decade later on a Saturday, the day the Toronto Blue Jays won the 1992 World Series over the Atlanta Braves).

New era yankees hats

Carter died of cancer a little more than a week ago and his death made baseball fans of a certain age stop and think about him. Mostly remembered as an Expo, he was perhaps the greatest catcher of his generation, a clutch hitter, a personality that drew fans his way. He also played a minor part in my “The Last Play at Shea” DVD: Carter kept the Mets alive in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series wholesale snapback caps when his two-out base hit in the ninth inning started a Mets’ comeback that is one of the most memorable moments in World Series history. RIP, Kid
The Pictou County Junior Crushers picked the exact wrong time of year to hit the skids. This is written before Thurday’s game against the Bridgewater Lumberjacks, so maybe the Crushers showed signs of pulling out of their late-season funk with a win over the Lumberjacks – although, the ‘Jacks are so terrible it really wouldn’t prove much. In any event, the playoffs are closing in and the Crushers are running out of time here.
Sure, it’s enjoyable to poke fun at NASCAR fans, making sweeping generalizations about them being hillbillies and backyard grease monkeys, but fans of the left-turn are officially geeked up today and, although I’m not with the program, I totally get their enthusiasm: it’s the weekend of the Daytona 500. I know of at least one person who literally books vacation time around the Daytona – not so he can head to Florida for the big weekend, but merely so he can focus all his time and energy on the 500, without having to worry about the Monday and Tuesday after.

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I was reading this week about the safety measures NASCAR has undertaken since Dale Earnhardt’s death in 2001, and while it’s obviously a very good thing that the odds at surviving a stock car crash are much, much greater than a decade ago, in some way it takes some of the edge out of the New era yankees hats  which is almost regrettable (does that philosophy make me a bad person? Maybe not, but it’s hardly something to be proud of).
Anyway, you don’t even have to watch a single lap to get some enjoyment out of NASCAR, you just have to devote a little time to reading about it or catching the clips on TV. What with all the fistfights on the track or in garages, the NASCAR wives, and the sniping in the media between drivers – it’s like a soap opera for people who like cars and engines and stuff like that.
Happy race-watching.