August 2010
The One Week Mark
Hello and thanks for stopping by as August becomes September and, as was said in Ken Burns’ Baseball, spring’s new hope gives way to the hard realities of autumn. Of late we at the RockHounds have basically been holding serve, maintaining our prior four game lead over San Antonio throughout the ebb and flow of wins and losses. After a so-so series against Corpus Christi, we just completed a series win against second place Frisco, which puts our “magic number” to clinch a playoff spot at four heading into a big series against the aforementioned San Antonio Missions, which means two wins will put us in. However, just for a little perspective, last place Corpus Christi is still mathematically alive so work remains to be done. I have only had two appearances over the past week or so, a byproduct of both happenstance and our starters giving us a lot of quality innings of late, but I have thrown the ball fairly well of late and that is the main thing that matters with the playoffs looming.
I really wish that I had more to report in the way of exciting off-field adventures, but unfortunately I have had a fairly nondescript week. The most notable event of the past week was packing up and moving out of my apartment and into the team hotel for the duration of my time in Midland, which was exactly as exciting as it sounds. In the process I did manage to find a number of things I misplaced in the course of my previous cross-country move and sloppy unpacking job, but really there is no part of the experience that I can imagine anyone wanting to read about so I’ll spare you any further details. Otherwise, I have spent most of my time on buses, studying for one or the other of the two classes I am enrolled in this semester, hop scotching through a library copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (the book that made poetry a relevant part of my daily life), and sketching out what promises to be a painting utterly beyond my technical capabilities and which will have to wait until I get home and unpack my painting stuff. After stretching myself a little bit for my last painting and having it turn out much better than I had expected (a comment on my expectations rather than my artistic proficiency) I decided to try something even a little more ambitious, but given my overall shortcomings in most areas artistic it promises to be an adventure. I guess I’ll see once I have the opportunity to try it, but until then I’ll fight the impulse to bore you with more details and sign off until next week. Until then I will leave you with a few selections from old Walt and hope you enjoy them as I do.
A Noiseless Patient Spider
by Walt Whitman
A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
Among the Multitude
by Walt Whitman
Among the men and women, the multitude,
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs,
Acknowledging none else–not parent, wife, husband, brother, child,
any nearer than I am;
Some are baffled–But that one is not–that one knows me.
Ah, lover and perfect equal!
I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections;
And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you.
Clear Midnight
by Walt Whitman
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson
done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars.
Highway 61 Revisited
Hello once again. Since I last checked in there has been a lot of change, but ultimately more of the same. We have basically split our games over the last ten days, but as we have won and lost so has everybody else in the Texas League South so at present we still maintain the three game lead we had a week and a half ago. We have one more game against Northwest Arkansas tonight (followed by an awful 12 hour bus trip), but then we have fourteen games against the other teams in our division so we definitely need to put the pedal down and put some distance between ourselves and second place to ensure we make the playoffs. Personally, I have had a few good outings and one horrendous outing since I last logged on. Obviously having poor outings is not great and I would prefer not to have them, but there isn’t much to be done except keep plugging along and finish the season strong. The prospect of making the playoffs is definitely a motivating factor for me and hopefully that can help drive me to a strong end of the regular season and a good performance in the playoffs.
Away from the field I have been dedicating a lot of time to searching for a job to occupy my time during the offseason. I have also started working on the two classes I will be taking during the fall semester, but which unfortunately will overlap the end of the season and eat up most of my free time until then. I have had the opportunity to do quite a bit of reading in Norton’s Anthology of Modern Poetry and a couple of Stephen Dunn books that I picked up recently. In the interest of being prepared, I have been spending some time planning out my trip home at the end of the season so I can have it done and out of the way and just focus on baseball for now. I’m trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to work a return trip to Guadalupe Mountains National Park into my drive home so I can hike the Devil’s Hall trail, which I missed out on last time and really want to see. Hopefully I’ll be able to work it in, but I am not hopeful. Anyhow, I’ll call that good for now since I don’t have a whole lot to write about and leave you with a couple poems for your trouble. Enjoy.
Temper
by Beth Bachmann
Some things are damned to erupt like wildfire,
windblown, like wild lupine, like wings, one after
another leaving the stone-hole in the greenhouse glass.
Peak bloom, a brood of blue before firebrand.
And though it is late in the season, the bathers, also,
obey. One after another, they breathe in and butterfly
the surface: mimic white, harvester, spot-celled sister,
fed by the spring, the water beneath is cold.
Graves We Filled Before the Fire
by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
Some lose children in lonelier ways:
tetanus, hard falls, stubborn fevers
that soak the bedclothes five nights running.
Our two boys went out to skate, broke
through the ice like battleships, came back
to us in canvas bags: curled
fossils held fast in ancient stone,
four hands reaching. Then two
sad beds wide enough for planting
wheat or summer-squash but filled
with boys, a barren crop. Our lives
stripped clean as oxen bones.
There and back again
Hello again and welcome back. As stated at the beginning of my last entry, I had some computer issues that prevented me from posting my previous entry, but seeing as how I had already written it out I figured I would share it rather than relegate it to the recycle bin. In any event, the entry is there if you should choose to read it. Recent events in the Texas League South have created a jumbled mess in the standings. We with the Midland RockHounds have had a difficult stretch, going 4-7 over our last eleven games. In that time the standings have been compressed significantly, going from a five game lead over second place to currently being only five games in front of the last place team. The good news is that we are still in first place and for the next two weeks we are playing the other division so we should have a good opportunity to put some distance between ourselves and the rest of the division if we are able to play with a bit more consistency. I myself have seen the end to my recent hot streak. I had a couple outings where I gave up some cheap hits, but Monday I had one of the worst outings of my professional career and gave up four runs in less than an inning. I bounced back with a solid outing last night, throwing 2-plus innings of scoreless baseball, and we as a team bounced back as well with a much needed victory over Tulsa. Hopefully this will be a harbinger of things to come for both me and my teammates.
Away from the field, I have spent the better portion of my time during this homestand putting my affairs in Midland in order in preparation for the end of the season. While the main focus certainly remains firmly on winning games and making a push towards the playoffs, it is inevitable that we as players face situations in which we also have to plan against a premature end to the season. Because we have to set up residences in the same way we would have to if we expected them to be permanent–despite the extremely temporary nature of our actual habitation–at the end of the season we as players are left trying to tie off the loose ends of our housing arrangements while still leaving us a roof over our heads. So with that in mind, I have been making all of the final arrangements for our current apartment and setting us up at the hotel for the duration of our stay in Midland, which will hopefully include a long run through the playoffs. In addition to mundane tasks such as this, I finally got to take my trip to Carlsbad Caverns and Guadalupe Mountains National Parks on our off day this past Tuesday. I love being out in the middle of nature with no sounds but those of nature filling my ears and nobody to intrude upon my solitude, which is exactly what I got from this trip. I started off early enough Tuesday morning to arrive at the Slaughter Canyon trailhead in Carlsbad Caverns N.P. at dawn and spent about three hours hiking Slaughter Canyon trail–encountering two rattlesnakes, various insects, a multitude of spiders and seeing numerous deer and elk prints–before making the strenuous ½ mile hike up to the entrance of Slaughter Canyon Cave. The cave itself was an amazing experience. While it lacks for some of Carlsbad’s grandeur, the lack of trails or lighting made for an amazing experience, especially once we got into the pristine portion of the cave. After finishing the cave tour, I hiked back to my car, drove 25 miles down the highway to Guadalupe Mountains N.P. and spent the remainder of my afternoon hiking the El Capitan trail, sweating profusely and taking in the beautiful scenery. The most interesting wildlife experience I took in on the day was on this trail and wasn’t even an encounter with an actual animal (although I did see a couple more rattlesnakes and a few deer), but instead was seeing some mountain lion tracks in dried mud a few feet off the trail. Pretty cool and a definite incentive to be back before dark. In any event, it was a much needed break and I would strongly recommend both parks, but I’ll stop myself there before I bore everyone to death. Until next time, please enjoy the customary poem.
Wood’s Edge
by Brenda Hillman
Infinity lifted:
a gasp of emeralds.
I thought I felt
the tall night trees
between them,
no exactitude,
a wait not even
known yet.
I held my violet up;
no smell.
It made a signal squeak
inside, bats,
lisps of pride;
ah, their little things,
their breath: lungs of a painting,
they swept me
in four ways, their square
plans, as I have made
a good square saying,
you I
you not-I
not-you I
not-you not-I,
ritual of hope
whose weight
has not been measured–
The Entry Not Posted
***I attempted to post this entry a week ago, but computer issues kept me from doing so. I decided to post it in addition to a new entry.***
Greetings once again. I am signing in on the morning of day two of a ten game, eleven day homestand. The week and a half will be a welcome respite from the road as we make a push through the end of the season and hopefully into the playoffs. The two upcoming days off will have to be cherished as well, as after this time at home we have 20 games in 20 days to wrap up the regular season, including a return trip from Northwest Arkansas to Midland with no day off for travel. Anyhow, moving the focus from the future to the recent past, we at the RockHounds are coming off a forgettable road trip. We pried one game each from Corpus Christi and Frisco, but in a week’s worth of hard fought games we would certainly have liked to take home a few more wins. However, as it stands we are still in first place in our division with plenty of opportunities left to put space between ourselves and the res of the Texas League’s Southern Division. Personally, I’ve had three outings since my last entry, running the gamut from poor to good. The good news is that there are a few easily identifiable and correctable mistakes to be culled from my less stellar outings and some positive things to build on from my good outing. I have also been throwing pretty well of late, which makes the occasional bump in the road a little easier to absorb.
Away from the field, there hasn’t been a whole lot to report of late. Other than burying my nose into one of a couple textbooks I’ve been at work on and continuing to hop-scotch my way through the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry, my main extracurricular has been tending to my plant collection. I finally replaced my giant sequoia seedling and added a few pitcher plants as well. Perhaps the development I am most happy about, however, is the germination of all but one of my monkey puzzle seeds while I was gone over the recent week-long road trip. I also finally tied down the last couple loose ends of the plan for my trip to Slaughter Canyon Cave and Guadalupe Mountains in a few days. Should be fun and hopefully I won’t get eaten by a mountain lion (just kidding, they are an extremely rare sight and I won’t be there at night when they’re active). Anyhow, I suppose I should cut myself off there and leave you with the customary poetry (an old favorite of mine). Enjoy.
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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