MichaelLortz.com/JordiScrubbings.com

The other day, while watching MTV2, I started thinking about the origin of sports jerseys. For the last decade or so, sports jerseys have become commonplace in the attire of musicians and performers. Rappers wear them, rock stars wear them, even Mariah Carey sported her own Michael Jordan jersey-dress a few NBA all-star games ago. But when did the trend start?

Back in the day, fans hardly ever saw performers in sports jerseys. Aerosmith never went on stage with Red Sox or Celtics garb, the Motown groups didn’t represent the Tigers or the Red Wings, and I don’t think the New York City punk bands ever sported Knicks, Giants, Jets, Mets, or Yankees attire.

Somewhere along the line, sports jerseys hit the stage.

But when?

Here are the earliest examples I’ve found of performers wearing jerseys:

1982: .38 Special drummer Gary Moffatt represents the Atlanta Braves and pitcher Joe Cowley in the video “Caught Up In You” (1:45 mark):

(Embedding Disabled: Click Here)

1984: Spinal Tap‘s legendary guitarist Nigel Tufnel wears a Sadaharu Oh jersey while on stage in Japan (see 2:40 mark):

These are the oldest two examples I could find. I know there has to be more. Maybe Run DMC, the Beastie Boys, or other old school rap legends represented their team during their heyday.

Consider this The Serious Tip‘s first bleg. When did musicians, rappers, or other performers start wearing sports jerseys?

If you know of anything pre-1982, please include a link. Thanks.

As the temperature in Tampa soars beyond 88, and people are jumping in the water plug just for old times sake, it helps to think cool thoughts.

So because nothing is cooler than winter, and in honor of the soon-to-be-played Olympics, I present my latest obscure find: Sportlov, a recently-disbanded heavy metal band of winter game loving mock Satanists from Sweden.

According to the metal gothic web site Tartarean Desire, Sportlov was a brutal black metal band with a penchant for tunes about “skiing, drinking hot chocolate in the cold snow, stabbing with ice-taps, (and) snowball wars” all in the name of the Dark Prince. And Tartarean Desire dare call them “a parody band”.

Because I don’t speak Swedish, I attempted to roughly translate a verse from Sportlov’s epic Snöbollskrieg. From the following,

INGEN DÖDLIG MÅ STOPPA VÅR FRAMFART
I BLINT APOKALYPTISKT RASERI
BERED DIG ATT DÖ FÖR VÅRA VAPEN
STENHÅRD SNÖBOLL MED GRUS INUTI

We get:

No Mortal May Stop Our Foregone
In Blind Apocolyptic Fury
Prepare Yourself to Die With (Para) Weapon
As Hard As Nails Snowball With Sand Inside

For more insight into the dark mind of these lethal Lucifer lovers, check out this video for Snöbollskrieg (might want to play on mute, unless you like incoherent metal).

For being Evil Incarnate, don’t these guys throw like girls?

Sportlov’s myspace.

Growing up I was a loyal reader of the Florida Today, the local newspaper in Melbourne, Florida. As a matter of fact, in the days before the Internet and my Google Reader, I got most of my sports news from the Florida Today. It was my end-all be-all for scores, news, and notes.

So it was with great disappointment that I learned that the Florida Today, the paper responsible for covering Melbourne and Melbourne-area sports stories, failed to even mention the first-ever major league match-up between Eau Gallie High baseball alumni, Boston Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield and Milwaukee Brewers first baseman Prince Fielder. To my knowledge, The Boston Globe was only media outlet besides my site to cover this event. To put it bluntly, the local paper dropped the ball.

After I posted about this occasion on my site and failed to find it written about on the Florida Today’s online edition, I emailed sports editor Lee Nessel and expressed my disappointment. As I received an “out of office” reply from Ms. Nessel, I re-sent my email to Mike Parsons, also of the Florida Today. Unfortunately, as of five days later, I have yet to receive a response from either representative.

I would think the major league meeting of two of Eau Gallie High’s three professional baseball alumni would have been an ideal feature for the local newspaper. To me, this was a story that could have drawn readers and significant local interest. Even Gordon Edes of The Boston Globe mentioned the idea of an Eau Gallie photographer immortalizing the event. For whatever reason, Florida Today did not seize on this opportunity. I guess Florida Today just didn’t care enough to cover it.

One Small Pitch for Baseball, One Giant Event for Commodore Alumni (The Serious Tip)

A New Power Prince (The Boston Globe – Boston.com)

Tis the season for delegates, superdelegates, uber delegates, and super-duper delegates. All across the nation people are campaigning for their candidates, proclaiming their greatness and downplaying the attributes of their competitors. So in the spirit of things, and without further ado, I’ve decided to announce my endorsement for those I feel will best lead us into the future. A future of glory, prestige, and prominence.

Oh, and if you haven’t yet, or you want to again, Vote Here.

The Serious Tip’s 2008 Endorsements

National League

First Base – Prince Fielder, Milwaukee Brewers

Because he went to my high school. Started last year with 2,706,020 votes.

Second Base – Dan Uggla, Florida Marlins

Toss-up between Uggla or Chase Utley. Uggla wasn’t even in the top five in fan votes for his position last year. That’s a shame. Vote for Uggla.

Shortstop – Hanley Ramirez, Florida Marlins

Again, a Marlin or a Phillie (Jimmy Rollins)? Ramirez is the most underrated player in baseball and deserves to be an all-star. How has he not been an all-star yet? Oh yeah, Jose Reyes. I guess we don’t have to worry about him this year.

Third Base – David Wright, New York Mets

Between Wright or Chipper Jones. I can’t do it. No matter how good of a season he is having, I can’t vote for a grown man named “Chipper”.

Outfield – Justin Upton, Arizona Diamondbacks

Might as well start getting used to voting for him now. He is going to be an all-star for a long time.

Outfield – Matt Holiday, Colorado Rockies

The coming-out party continues for one of the best hitters in the National League.

Outfield – Xavier Nady, Pittsburgh Pirates

Because for some reason Lance Berkman is listed as a first baseman. I thought he was an outfielder.

Catcher – Brian McCann, Atlanta Braves

Umm… because.

American League

First Base – Carlos Pena, Tampa Bay Rays

Slow start this year, but 46 homers last year deserves a reward. And Big Papi can’t play first if his life depended on it.

Second Base – Robinson Cano, New York Yankees

I have nothing against Cano. Even for a Yankee, he’s a good ballplayer. Even though Cano is hitting around .200 this year, I refuse to vote for Dustin Pedroia. And voting for Akinori Iwamura might scream of homerism.

Shortstop – Michael Young, Texas Rangers

Five straight years of 200 or more hits. Bet you didn’t know that.

Third Base – Alex Rodriguez, New York Yankees

I don’t care how great of a season Mike Lamb is having in Minnesota, A-Rod is the best player in baseball. Also the world’s leading vote-getter last year with 3,890,515 votes. That’s about the population of the City of Los Angeles.

Catcher – Victor Martinez, Cleveland Indians

I saw him hit a home run in spring training. He’s good.

Outfield – Carl Crawford, Tampa Bay Rays

Follow the call of The Professor over at Rays Index and vote for Carl. I figure it takes about 2.5 million votes to become a starter in the all-star game. If everyone in Tampa, St. Petersburg, and Clearwater each voted for Carl four times, he would be a shoo-in.

Outfield – B.J. Upton, Tampa Bay Rays

See Justin Upton. And B.J.’s tendency to get thrown out at third absolutely needs to be seen on the national stage.

Outfield – Curtis Granderson, Detroit Tigers

Had a monster season last year. He’s also a blogger. Wasn’t even in the top 15 AL outfield vote-getters last year. Should be an all-star this year.

Designated Hitter – Frank Thomas, Oakland A’s

Because a future Hall of Famer who was released earlier this year should absolutely be an all-star.

—————-

Remember, in the words of Clinton, you don’t need the bullet when you got the ballot. So go vote.

There was a time as a teen when I felt something similar to as I feel now. During my high school years, a certain local interest caught my eye. She was hot, young, and exciting. Back then, my affection for a distant lover was not as strong. Eventually, this sexy local interest lost what made her exciting and my heart overcame its dilemma.

Now, however, I don’t know if I can be as strong.

Last year, hanging out with the local interest was a fun way to pass the time. I had no problem differentiating between the object of my desire and a friendly associate. I was head-over-heels in love with my long-distance love; anyone else was just a friend.

How things have changed.

My long-distance love has let her life go to hell. I feel bad saying this, and maybe I am too hard on her, but it’s true. Since last summer, since we laughed and loved and talked about our October plans, she had become lazy, listless, and completely uninterested in being the best she can be. As I have mentioned before, watching her digression has become maddeningly frustrating.

Meanwhile, the local interest has become the talk of the town. After pulling herself out of the basement, nee the gutter, she has totally reinvented herself with new found confidence. She has gone from not-so-super to supermodel.

Although I used to talk openly about our friendship, her recent success has me curious about how life would be if we were exclusive. I even find myself slightly jealous whenever anyone talks about her lovingly. In a way, I guess I feel as if I found her first. But I know as long as my heart lies elsewhere and I stay committed to a struggling relationship, being jealous of my local interest’s new fame is not fair to her, me, or my long-distance lover.

This is the most confused I have ever been. If only love was easy.

Longtime readers of The Serious Tip may remember my interview with Florida independent wrestler Bryan Manson. Well, because it’s been a while since I wrote about rasslin’, here is an update:

Manson is now a heavyweight champeen.

So what does this mean?

This means the ides of the apocalypse are upon us. It means there will be seven brides with seven signs for three amigos and four horsemen. It means the song of Cthulhu will be heard again. It means Satan himself is thawing from his frozen capture. It means Saddam Hussein will come in glory to rule the world.

For your further edification, here is Manson and fellow wrestler Jay Icon squaring off and beating the snot out of each other to the music of No Doubt.

Saturday was a glorious day in the history of my high school alma mater. Yesterday, for the first time ever, former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 1984 Tim Wakefield faced former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 2002 Prince Fielder. Since only one other baseball player from my high school has ever made the big leagues, former reliever Jeff Tam, this is kinda a big deal.

Unfortunately, due to the Brewers league shift back in ’98, the Brewers don’t play Boston regularly. So I, and all the possibly dozens and dozens of EGHS fans that care about stuff like this, have had to wait nearly three years into young Prince’s career for a highly anticipated match-up against Wakefield.

So what did these Commodore legends do against each other?

In the top of the second, Fielder grounded to short.

In the top of the fourth, Fielder doubled to deep right.

In the top of the sixth, Fielder flied out to center.

So overall, Fielder went 1 for 3 with a double against his Commodore predecesor. As the Brewers won’t face the Red Sox again until 2011 and Wakefield is already 49 years old (give or take a few years), this might be the only big league match-up of the two Eau Gallie High players and maybe the last one of its kind for a while.

Until the next Commodore makes the majors.

For those who might have missed it, I was did a cameo spot over at Bus League Baseball last Wednesday. The fine proprietors of Bus League Baseball, The Extrapolater and One More Dying Quail, were kind enough to let me write about my trip to both a Rays game and minor league Brevard County Manatees game last weekend. So yeah, this news is already a week old. But go read it anyway.

By the way, what name rhymes with “link”?

From the Bigs to the Buses – Bus League Baseball

(According to OurSportsCentral.com, the Minnesota Twins are holding a big league try-out on Saturday, June 7th. As Fort Myers is only three hours away from Tampa, I am definitely going. And in anticipation of my pursuit of becoming a Twin, a Red Wing, a Rock Cat, a Miracle, or a Snapper, this week I am presenting a three-part story about the last time I tried to seize my big league dream.)

(If you missed Part 1 and Part 2, go back and read them.)

“Seventy-five,” came the call from behind the backstop.

“Let’s see your curveball,” the head scout stoically said. His tone of voice made it clear he was just going through the motions and that barring a miracle, I wouldn’t be pitching in Turner Field any time soon.

“I don’t throw a curve,” I embarrassingly replied. Things could not get worse.

“How about any breaking pitch?” he asked.

“Well, I know how to throw a slider,” I said. I lied. I had never thrown a slider in my life, although I did know the correct grip and release of the pitch.

Thinking fast, I strode back upon the mound and threw the best slider I knew how. Surprisingly, my wanna-be slider actually acted like a slider, breaking about four inches or so before reaching the catcher’s mitt. Unfortunately, the pitch traveled at only about 60 miles per hour – minor league fodder and hardly the stuff of a future Brave.

“Ok, what else can you throw?” the scout asked.

“I have a change-up,” I admitted. Hardly one to blow people away, I was actually quite proud of my ability to throw a circle change. After learning how former Brave Tom Glavine gripped his all-star caliber change-up, I learned to master the deceptive arm speed necessary to strike out everyone on my block. Unfortunately, games on my block were played with a tennis ball, not a baseball.

Using Glavine’s grip on an actual baseball, I hurled my change-up towards the plate. Good location – lower outside corner with a little sinking action at the end. I was proud of myself. But a good change of pace does not a major leaguer make. I still had to break 80 with a fastball.

After receiving the ball from the catcher one last time, I took a deep breath. This was it. All my baseball aspirations coursed through my veins. Long hours of practicing. Years of little league semi-dominance. Thoughts of pitching Game Seven of the World Series. It all hung on one pitch. One fastball.

The slow, easy, rocking wind-up …

The pitch … a strike.

“Seventy-three.”

The four syllables that crushed my big league dreams.

With a look of disappointment, I slowly walked off the mound.

Sensing my sorrow, the head scout turned to me.
“You know you could always pitch in a local adult league if you still want to play.”

After the tryout concluded, my practical side re-emerged and I asked the scouts for any contact information they could provide that might lead to a job with the Braves. At least I succeed somewhere, scoring an address and an email to a Braves human resource officer.

A few months later, acting on the scout’s advice, I signed up for the Tallahassee Adult Baseball League. Without even trying out, I played a season and a half of adult baseball before my academic commitment forced me to prematurely retire. During that time, I found myself back on the mound twice, pitching two innings, allowing three runs on four hits and five walks. It was the end of my baseball career. But although I haven’t set foot on a pitcher’s mound since, I still haven’t given up hope. One day the Braves may call.

(This post originally appeared on Bus Leagues Baseball.com)

Getting to know other writers is one of the best things about having a blog. Since OMDQ and I have been in the writing version of the Bus Leagues for more than a year, we have met some great people we are proud to call friends & colleagues. One of those is Jordi, who writes about baseball, politics, and other blood sports at his site, The Serious Tip. Today, he shares his weekend experiences going from MLB to A-ball in South Florida. Enjoy.

From the rural sandlots to the city stadiums, the basic premise of baseball – three strikes, three outs, nine innings, etc – remains constant. Sure, the talent level rises with every step to the majors, but does an increase in whiz-bang glitz and glamour make for a more entertaining game? Is happiness and emotional attachment at the ballpark directly related to cost and hype? Or have I been reading too much Freakonomics?

These questions are a result of seeing two games of various levels this past weekend. Last Friday night, I used one of my season tickets and saw James Shields of the Tampa Bay Rays one-hit the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The next night, I traveled to Viera, nee Melbourne, Florida, received a free ticket and watched the Class-A Florida State League Brevard County Manatees take on the Tampa Yankees.

As anyone who has followed my past writings knows, I am a closet Rays fan. Although I grew up a Mets fan, since moving to Tampa two years ago, I’ve had an interest in the Rays, especially in regards to the team’s transformation from doormat to dominant. So as an admirer, and not yet a full-blown fan, I was on my feet applauding what may have been the best pitching performance in franchise history.

Unlike my newfound fascination with the Rays, the Brevard County Manatees have been my favorite minor league team since their inception in 1994. Formerly a Marlins’ farm team, the Manatees are now the A-ball representative of the Milwaukee Brewers. Personally, I still wear the teal Manatees hat. I think it looks better than the newer red and blue version.

My two weekend destinations, independent of the score, couldn’t have been more different. A trip to the Trop is almost like a journey to the amusement park. Despite its reputation as a bad place for baseball, the Rays ownership has turned Tropicana Field into a fan friendly experience, with batting cages, speed gun contests, and plenty of other bells, whistles, gizmos, and doo-dads. The coup de grace of this new Trop is the new large video score board installed before the 2007 season. Every stat the above-average fan needs is broadcast, from OPS to pitch count, WHIP to walks per nine innings.

Even the fans at Tropicana Field have their own vibe. Whereas a growing number are starting to pepper the stands with Upton and Shields jerseys, many still wear generic merchandise mixed with attention-getting flare such as clown wigs and boxing robes. Topping off this group of new fans was an American Idol contestant in town to sing the National Anthem.

A Manatees game at Space Coast Stadium, on the other hand, is a far different experience. Instead of a celebrity singing for America, for example, the Manatees had two anonymous local crooners. Instead of a promotional foul line race between characters dressed as Pepsi, Aquafina, and Sierra Mist, the Manatees featured two local little league coaches dressed in generic ketchup and mustard bottles. Instead of amplified stereo noise, blinking lights, and new-age scoreboard, Space Coast Stadium relied on an old fashioned public address system and a video screen fit for an Sega Genesis.

So was the Rays’ game I paid for that much better than the low-budget Class-A Manatees contest I saw for free? Well, in this case, yes. But only because of the magnificent pitching artistry of James Shields. If not for the great Mr. Shields, it might have been a toss-up.

Thanks, Jordi! Readers will also enjoy hearing about the J-man’s quest to join the minor-league ranks during open tryouts.