I've come to the conclusion that this is probably the latest I've gone in spring without starting to mow the loan. I'm betting on another clear day tomorrow to continue to dry things out. Then Saturday comes and the dreaded mowing chore gets back on the schedule. The lawn right now looks like it has a severe case of "bedhead" or "hat hair". Kind of like US Open rough.

So, I started to do some lawn prep like charging the old Grasshog up. I have to make sure I also have gas for the mower. My mower is not a Deere and it certainly does not run like one, but it gets the job done. I'd like to think everyone will be out this week doing that.

Meal of Links

The jury has been selected in the Phil Spector trial. I'm interested to see how widespread the coverage is on this.

Here is Patti Smith's version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit". You can actually discern the lyrics on this cover, so take a listen if you've never understood "...a mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido...". Overall, not so bad, and she still adds her own narrative in there, too.

Anthony Bourdain skewers the "The Food Network Awards". I cannot recall the last time I saw the term "whale shit" used in a review.

Exercise Yard

That was tough to watch.















Did you see the 16 Minutes of Hell that concluded the Indians game today? We had the broadcast on at work and could not believe it. I just saw the replay on STO and could not believe it. The Indians were leading 6-2 in the bottom of the ninth. Closer Joe Borowski comes on. Uh-oh. Joe already has an ERA of over 5.00. He also claims he is not like Bob Wickman, but his results are very reminiscent of the Wicky Wicky One.

Here's how I saw it. He gets the first out rather easily. Melky Cabrera fouls off a bunch of pitches in his at-bat, before grounding to short. I'd say he saw 10 pitches. Borowski basically gets lazy and throws Josh Phelps a room service fastball and he smacks a homer, 6-3. I now realize Borowski's fastball today has no movement, straight as an arrow, and he can't throw the breaking ball consistently for strikes. Double uh-oh. Let's see if he can get out of this with the crap he's been throwing. Jorge Posada lines one near Borowski's head for a single. Ouch.

He then walks Johnny Damon. That brings up Derek Jeter and he singles. The score is now 6-4. Very uncomfortable. Carl Willis, the pitching coach visits the mound around this time, so I guess they did try to delay the inevitable. The next batter is Bobby Abreu. He notices Jhonny Peralta is cheating up the middle, so he lines a single through the hole at short, Damon comes in, and now it's 6-5. Sheesh.

A-Rod comes up. He's done nothing all day, but is swinging a hot bat. First pitch to the backstop. First base now open. Do you now walk him and pitch to Giambi? Waiting...waiting...nope. They'll pitch to him. Borowski throws him another crap fastball down the middle. Tom Hamilton did no justice to this homer on the radio. It was a no-doubter as soon as A-Rod swung, he even flipped the bat and raised his arms immediately. And he absolutely crushed this ball deep to just left of center. Not even close to being caught. Ballgame! Yanks win, 8-6. Enter this into the pantheon of closers blowing games for the Indians. Easily in the top 5 of all time. Borowski threw 31 pitches, gave up two homers, three singles, a walk and tossed a wild pitch. He leaves New York with an ERA of 13.50.

Remember that old film clip of that guy getting hit in the stomach with a cannonball? That's how Victor Martinez looked after the game, as if he had taken that blow to the solar plexus. Will it have a lingering effect? I don't know, we play Tampa Bay next. That might be good medicine.

Visitor

35 Across: "Here Come the Warm Jets" composer (3 letters) Answer: Eno