OK, so this was supposed to be a funny newsletter about how our oldest daughter Elizabeth cut my hair over the weekend. It was going to be filled with all sorts of one-liners and punchlines about her getting back at me for all the embarrassing Dad things I’ve done such as come into her room when she’s on the phone with her boyfriend and say: “Hey I have a question for you.”
“Hold on,” she says bitterly as she pulls the phone away from her ear and gives me the look that says, “If I don’t get out of this house soon I will literally melt into a puddle of teenage fury.”
“It’s important,” I say.
“WHAT?” she asks in all capital letters.
“How does a cow get information?”
“Get out! Get out now!”
“From the moos-paper,” I said.
At this point, I ams sent out of the room by some sort of rage rays and the door slams, and I get why she is upset. Newspapers are having a rough time right now. Anyway, I really thought she was going to leave me looking like Bert from Sesame Street as an act of teenage rebellion.
There were two things I failed to appreciate. One is that I am bald. I am not balding. I am bald. The hair that does grow is just as likely to come out of my ear anywhere n my head … and MORE likely than it is to grow off the top of my head. So, honestly, there really was only so much damage she could have done.
But the second thing I missed is this: Elizabeth is really good at this kind of stuff. She is like a beauty savant. She does makeup for her sister and mother. She’s really into SFX makeup — the other day she came into my office looking as if there was a unzipd zipper on her face and blood was gushing out (this, apparently, is the teenage version of the Dad joke). So, she cut my hair flawlessly and when she was done it looked EXACTLY the way it does when I get it cut at Sports Clips or wherever I get my hair cut that month.
I mean EXACTLY.
I mean I have been wasting my money for YEARS because I have a daughter at home who can basically cut my hair the exact same way.
I’m sorry I don’t have a funnier story to tell you. Now, the horrendous beard I’m growing … well, that’s a whole other story.
So, yeah, I did think about taking a long break after the Baseball 100. No, seriously, I did think about it. The Baseball 100 really did take a lot out of me. I still feel some of the after-effects. But, as you probably guessed if you follow this blog or anything else I have done, I am not capable of stopping. It’s a problem. I have friends who can just go to the beach and sit in a chair for like 43 straight days. I envy that. Well, I don’t envy the beach part because, as covered in the PosCast, beaches are horrendous. But I envy the ability to just turn off, decompress, relax. I can sometimes do it for like an hour.
And then I think, “It’s been a while since I’ve looked at Dale Murphy’s Baseball Reference page.”
Or I think, “I ought to write a 6,000 word thing about that scene in Megamind where Metro Man (Brad Pitt) starts singing.”
So, no, taking a long break after the Baseball 100 was never really in the cards. I probably should have taken at least a couple of days, or even one day, but I didn't. Maybe I will this weekend. But for now, I’ve already sketched out the next project.
And what is it? Drumroll please …
No, forget the drumroll. Too dramatic.
I’m tentatively calling it 60 Moments. My editor Kaci Borowski and I are still playing with the name. But here’s the idea: I’m going to count down the 60 greatest moments in baseball history(!)(?).
Here’s the thing: This list I’ve put together is wild. It’s different. It is not going to just be the moments you expect … in fact, I can tell you up front that one of the moments you undoubtedly expect to be on there will not be on there. Actually, it’s likely that several moments you expect will not be on there, but I know at least one for sure.
The idea is to come up with the 60 moments that best express the joy of baseball. And also, since it is a companion list to the Baseball 100, there will be some moments on there that highlight great players who just missed out on the 100 (and some moments missing that have already been highlighted in the 100). I worked really hard on the list, and while it’s still at least a little bit in flux, I think it’s pretty fun.
If we do it right, I think it will be pretty spectacular.
What are the chances we do it right? Well, it did take me three tries to finish the Baseball 100.
Why 60? Well, there is actually a specific reason beyond the name “60 Moments” (does it work? I can’t tell). As you will see, the list is timed. How? Well, I won’t go into any more details because I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But I will say this: As of this writing, we don’t know when baseball will be back. One of the hopes is that this list will make you smile and think about baseball in the meantime … and maybe real baseball will be there at or near the end.
Anyway, that’s the plan. Look for 60 Moments to begin soon, thought it might be called something else like “Three moments.”
On the PosCast this week, I talk with Brandon McCarthy and one of the greatest ever pitchers in baseball history (from Australia) Peter Moylan. We draft the funniest things we’ve ever seen on a baseball diamond. I had a huge advantage, having covered the Royals throughout the 2000s. All five or my draft picks are mid-2000s Royals moments.
On next week’s PosCast, it looks like Michael Schur and I (and a couple of guests) will break down the new Name of the Year ballot, which came out today.
Thank you all for your kind words about my grandmother, Miriam Perel, who passed away over the weekend at age 95. She was a powerhouse, and she lived a rich and full life, and I feel very lucky for knowing her.
There has been some buzz on Twitter for some reason about the John Fogerty song “Centerfield.” It seems many people feel like this is a great song, perhaps even the best baseball song. I believe deeply, as Nick Offerman has said so eloquently, that everybody should get to like what they like without having to endure the taunts and carping of others. And so if you are one of those people who loves “Centerfield,” I want to say to you: Enjoy it. Love it. Don’t let anybody break your stride.
Man do I hate that song, though. I mean, seriously, what a malcontent. The coach has already decided to sit you, buddy — maybe because your homemade bat is terrible. You’re not Roy Hobbs, OK? Buy a bat. And quit bragging about how new your shoes, we don’t care.
If you have a chance, please catch my friend Gary Gulman’s ranking of consonants on Twitter (#GulmanTop21Consonants). Gary and I just love ranking things.