By Tony in Hitchin
League 4
League 7
11:51, Eng 296-7 Mills beats Anderson all ends up outside off, before Jim slices through gully for a dooblay. Quiet at Trent Bridge so far - the stands are filling up nicely, but there are papers to read and first-drink decisions to be made.
I appreciate that paragraph possibly makes about as much sense to most of you as it would if written in Spanish, but to an Englishman it says a great deal. Ah, the mysteries of some sporting terms.
By The Jersey Hitman
League 6
League 17
Former Yankee outfielder Bobby Murcer passed away yesterday after a long, toughly fought, battle with brain cancer. He played for the Yankees from 1965-1974 and, then, again from 1979-1983. He has been one of the team’s broadcasters since the day he retired.
Bobby Mercer was a childhood hero of mine. From the first time my father took me to Yankee Stadium, and he got the game winning hit, Bobby was my guy. When the Yankees traded him to the Giants, before the 1975 season, I was crushed. I remember hearing the news on the radio in my mom’s car and crying.
By Tony in Hitchin
League 4
League 7
At the weekend, I had the pleasure of catching up with an old friend. Over a couple of cold ones, we chatted as old friends do, laughing at stories from our youth, and the conversation turned to his soccer team, Millwall FC. Back in the dark days, when hooliganism was a real problem, Millwall fans had a fearsome reputation for violence, and to take a trip to their ground, appropriately named The Den, was rarely advisable.
The fans embraced their reputation, rarely disappointing visiting fans and inviting those brave enough to “step outside” if they fancied their chances. They stood on the terraces - this was before all-seater stadia became the norm - and through wind and rain chanted, “Nobody likes us, and we don’t care.”
As we were chatting merrily, it made me think that a similar chant could be adopted by fans of my favourite team, the Kansas City Royals, because nobody likes us.
By Tony in Hitchin
League 4
League 7
Annie Szemanski wasn’t the first woman to reach the major leagues. The story of her journey from the Federales League of Bolivia to starting second baseman for the Sparrows is an invention, a piece of fiction, the vehicle for Garrison Keillor to teach us a life lesson or two in his whimsical, gentle, Midwestern style. But it made me think of the role women play in the National Pastime. After all, can it really be the National Pastime without our better halves?