Watson, Hill and Keri: Asking New Questions About Sports and Domestic Violence

Jonah Keri was one of my favorite sports writers.

Keri knew his material inside and out. He peppered his baseball writing with statistics, but kept it accessible to casual fans. He knew how to analyze facts about player performance and how to communicate the data to his audience.

Keri didn’t sacrifice the quality of his writing to do it, either. He wrote with sophistication and simplicity at the same time. His writing included references to pop culture, politics and the music world. He knew years ago what many influencers are still figuring out: you need more than one vertical to stay relevant.

Keri was funny too. He could trade barbs with anyone and used his self-effacing humor to put his podcast guests at ease. (“My voice is sort of a mix of Seth Rogen and Kermit the Frog,” he’d say.) It was that humor that landed him guest spots on The Late Show with Seth Meyers and repeated appearances on the Bill Simmons and the ESPN Fantasy Focus podcasts.

Jonah Keri was smart, endearing and accomplished.

He was also a domestic abuser. Continue reading “Watson, Hill and Keri: Asking New Questions About Sports and Domestic Violence”

Turning Fantasy Sports Into Real Relationships

I came back from the dog’s morning walk to find E sitting at the dining room table. He was hunched over his Chromebook, initially reserved for schoolwork but since used for numerous other activities. I recognized the website’s purple banner, grid lines and the list of blue names on the left hand side immediately.

He was looking at his fantasy football team.

I read a piece a few years ago by Matthew Berry, ESPN Fantasy Analyst, author and former Hollywood writer, about starting a fantasy league with his son and some other local families. I’d already been playing fantasy sports for years at that point but it was the first time I really thought about getting E involved. E was still very young so I knew it would be a while. But I began imagining a draft day tradition with kids huddling over rankings and their parents sharing in the excitement.

Fast forward to this year, when E had just returned home from his first summer at sleep-away camp. He had made a slew of new friends and wanted to keep in touch with them. He had also asked me previously about starting a fantasy league for the coming football season. My wife reached out to the other parents to gauge interest and, a few days later, the league was born. Continue reading “Turning Fantasy Sports Into Real Relationships”

The Happiest Animal in the World

The team made its way out to left field for our post-game meeting. There was an obvious mix of enthusiasm among its members. Some jogged, still showing the hustle after the game that their coaches had been preaching all season. Others ambled more slowly than rush hour traffic in midtown.

I couldn’t blame them for feeling listless; we’d just lost 12-0.

The boys knelt or sat cross-legged in the outfield and promptly began pulling out blades of grass while they waited for my coaching partner and me. We exchanged some brief thoughts about who had earned the game ball and walked out to join the team.

“Look,” I began, “I know it’s hard to think about positives after we just lost a game like that.”

A few of the players smiled ruefully as I continued. I mentioned their progress in working together as a team, including some players who played out of position in that game. I pointed out that two of our better players had not been available. And I added that we had played hard against our opponents, who were the best team in the league.

I went on to say that Memorial Day Weekend was essentially our All Star Break. We had passed the mid-point of the season and wouldn’t have another game for a full week. I encouraged the players to come to practice in a few days ready to work, but also to put tonight’s game behind them. I had just finished reminding them that, in our league, everyone makes the playoffs when our starting catcher raised his hand.

“E, you have something to add?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to face his teammates.

“We have to be like goldfish.” Continue reading “The Happiest Animal in the World”

The Best Part of a Little League Grand Slam

It wasn’t the hit.

The metal bat made a solid ping as it sent the baseball soaring toward the vine-covered fence in right-center field. I’d heard the sound before, mostly when watching the Little League World Series or college baseball games on television. I heard it occasionally during my son’s games in person too, though less often. This moment notwithstanding, pitchers his age often struggle to find the strike zone, which means the batters are less likely to have the chance to connect so directly.

It wasn’t the swing.

Long gone are the days when he would amble over to home plate, take his stance and bring his bat around with the faint hope of making contact. Now he walks up with a purpose, plants his cleats firmly in the dirt and sways back and forth slightly while the pitcher sets. He raises the bat high over his back shoulder, drawing little “O’s” in the air as he waits for the delivery. He takes a step toward the mound and swings over the plate, extending his arms and following through. I admire his form and hope that I looked that smooth swinging the bat when I was his age. Continue reading “The Best Part of a Little League Grand Slam”

Navigating the Space Between

I was a high school junior by the time I started to really appreciate quality literature and wordplay. It was around that time that I discovered ESPN’s quirky Sportscenter anchors. Rich Eisen, Kenny Mayne, Dan Patrick and John Anderson, just to name a few, were gifts to a teenage boy looking for a way to combine loves of sports, humor and good writing. Chris Berman, in addition to being one of the original ESPN anchors, was larger than life in both his energy on set and his physical size. When many of his colleagues were using catchphrases to liven up their highlights, Berman found his niche by making popular culture references using athletes’ names during his narration.

I loved every minute of it.

The Chicago Bears didn’t produce too many highlights during my high school years; at least, not the kinds of highlights for which they would have been proud. They finished last in their division every season that I was in high school (1997-2000); their best record in that stretch was in 1999, when they went 6-10. Their defense was mediocre and their offense was even worse, largely due to the quality of their quarterbacks. Erik Kramer was in his mid-30s in ’97 and ’98 and at the end of his career. The next two seasons featured the combinations of colossal-draft-bust Cade McNown, the talented-in-college-but-inconsistent-pro Shane Matthews and the serviceable-but-hardly-a-world-beater Jim Miller.

Matthews might not have set the NFL world on fire but he had a few moments in the sun. More importantly, he had a name that rhymed almost exactly with one of the most popular bands of the ’90s and Chris Berman knew it. I can still hear Berman cheering his way through the highlight, describing the Bears scoring play that never came frequently enough.

“The Shane Matthews Band finds The Space Between for the touchdown!” Continue reading “Navigating the Space Between”

Swinging For the Fences

He pulled on his slightly-too-small helmet, wincing as he tugged it over his ears. We had been saying for weeks that he needed a new one – he was still using the same helmet he got when he started playing baseball three years ago – but life got in the way and we hadn’t been able to make it happen. I helped him slip on the batting gloves, holding the faded white fabric steady so he could push his hands in. He stretched and wiggled his fingers, adjusting for comfort, and held his hand out for me to tighten the Velcro base. He hoisted his bat out of his bag as we went over the details of his stance one last time. I gave him a smile and a few good-natured knocks on his helmet before he made the short walk to the batters box. He set his feet, bent his knees and lifted the bat behind him, elbow pointing directly back toward the umpire, just as we had discussed.

Three pitches went by and he made the same short walk back to the dugout.

His name wasn’t Casey and we weren’t in Mudville.

E had struck out. Continue reading “Swinging For the Fences”

Boys Just Need to Have Fun

He crouched slightly, a few feet away from third base, hands on his knees in his “ready position,” and waited.

The ground balls came to him faster than he was accustomed, which was to be expected coming off the bat of a coach instead of other seven-year-olds. He fielded each one cleanly, though, getting his glove down to the ground and squeezing the ball as it hit the webbing. He popped up quickly after each catch and fired as hard as he could across the field to throw out the imaginary runners at first.

Not one throw reached on the fly. Continue reading “Boys Just Need to Have Fun”

It’s [Supposed To Be] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Spring has always been my favorite time of year.

It’s not just the literal return of warmth to the air, though I appreciate walking outside without feeling like Queen Elsa has moved to the New York area and decided that people would look better without their outer layer of skin. It’s not just about seeing the trees beginning to bud, the flowers starting to bloom and the general renewal of life around me. It’s not even about the fact that spring means my birthday is coming.

Since I was a child, the arrival of spring has always meant one thing: baseball. Continue reading “It’s [Supposed To Be] the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

Keeping Safety 1st During Late Night Baseball

The text message popped up on my phone just after midnight.

T was trying to fall asleep in our bedroom and I was on the couch in the living room. The Cubs and Rockies had just gone into extra innings in their win-or-go-home playoff game and I didn’t want to disturb my exhausted wife by reacting to key pitches or controversial calls. I was exhausted too, of course; caffeine only works for so long and my energy stores had already been low after a frustrating day at work. Sports fandom being what it is, though, I was determined to see the game through for as long as I could keep my eyes open.

I had been alone for maybe ten minutes when the soft glow of my cell phone caught my eye. I picked it up, expecting to see another message from my friend with whom I’d been texting during the game, but it wasn’t from him. It was from T. Continue reading “Keeping Safety 1st During Late Night Baseball”

The Gift

“Wait, where is E?” T asked.

We had come to Citi Field to celebrate E’s birthday and to see the Cubs play the Mets.1 A baseball stadium was never a good place to lose a child, but especially not on his birthday.

We scanned our group quickly. My brother, his wife and their daughter were sitting in the row in front of us and my youngest brother, his wife and their young son were another row down. My mother and her husband were in that row, as well. I kept moving my head from side to side, trying to crane my neck around S, who was standing on my lap and dancing with the music blaring through the PA system, but there was no sign of E. Continue reading “The Gift”

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