Your Somewhat Baseball-Related Holiday Gift Guide

Christmas!  You know what that means:  Holiday-themed posts on every sports blog.  Its great.  You barely have to come up with a concept as long as it ties into Christmas somehow.  So, I’ll barely graze an issue or two here while humming “Winter Wonderland” and call it a day.

Some things just go together, like music and drugs, or a boob and another boob.  Christmas is synonymous with “stuff” these days, habitually drowned in consumerism every year.  Its why Linus hung himself.

And, if any image is going to get you into the holiday spirit, it would have to be a beloved children’s cartoon character committing suicide.  My point is, its not Christmas if we’re not overdrawing our checking accounts in order to throw shit at each other and then get drunk.  Here at CttP, we have comprised a small list of some neat stuff you could use while bribing your family into loving you.  I’ve decided to pick one form from each media outlet to thrill you with.

When I was about 12, I got “The Only Way I Know” by Cal Ripken, Jr., and for some reason, decided to become a professional baseball player.  Dreams, like innocent ducklings wandering through a nature reserve that’s schedule to be turned into a parking lot, are inevitably crushed.  Mine were appropriately destroyed when my motor skills were described as “corpse-like” and the coach gave my athleticism an “F,” even though I was the only one who got a report card.  But Cal’s book really inspired me, and while I may not have lived out my MVP career/fantasy, I at least used that passion to become a baseball blogger, which I think we can all agree is the exact same thing.

My point is, the bar for baseball books in my life has always been set by “The Only Way I Know,” (which is probably not as good as I recall) and in a book section that’s clouded with local beat writers cashing in on a team’s success or biographies of legends, sometimes, people can miss, and miss hard.  Trust me.  You’re talking to a guy whose playing career was almost 100% missing.

So, yeah, I really only picked this book up because it had the word “cocaine” in the title.  But I liked “The Pittsburgh Cocaine Seven” by Aaron Skirboll.  Did you know the Pirate Parrot once crammed his beak full of cocaine in order to distribute it to players in the locker room?  Or that Keith Hernandez bought a few bags in the bathroom of Three Rivers Stadium between innings?  Or that Tim Raines used to only slide headfirst to avoid breaking the vials in his uniform pockets?

Yeah.  Read this book.

And for those of us who don’t celebrate Christmas, or get kicked out of parties by our families for bringing up “that thing” grandpa did in Vietnam during dessert, going to the movies can be an intricate part of the holidays.

As far as movies go, I hate movies.  Not all movies.  True Grit will probably be awesome.  I wish it was a baseball movie so I could write about it on here, even though I’ve haven’t seen it yet and would just go on and on talking about how awesome it is.  Anyways, baseball movies can be tough.  I mean, I get the whole “fathers and sons” thing with Field of Dreams, but for fuck’s sake, its like, shut the hell up, Kevin Costner.  He’s so unwatchable to movie crumbles to dust in your hands out of self-hatred.  And of course, he’s our guy in the movie industry–the guy whose taken it upon himself to make baseball movies, and then be in them.  “Outer Space” got Tom Hanks.  Shit!  That’s awesome!

And not only that, but Hanks is also the “WWII” guy.  He got two really cool things!  And baseball got Kevin Costner.  Really?  What about, like, Kiefer Sutherland, or Jeremy Renner, or shit, I’d even take that hilarious new guy on SNL.  Jay Pharaoh.

But I guess that’s why a good baseball movie can be tough:  Our go-to guy is Kevin Costner.  And Ken Burns.  Come on.

I can’t recommend Major League II, even though its on TV every day.  The first one was okay, but watching Charlie Sheen try to act is like watching roadkill learn how to die.  The Rookie was two hours of Dennis Quaid reminding you to follow your dreams, even if it hurts everyone you love and care about.  Also it had Dennis Quaid.  In fact, the baseball movie I like the best stars–holy crap–Tom Hanks.  That’s right.  I’m suggesting you get A League of Their Own for someone for Christmas.  Why?  Because when he threw that glove at that kid’s face and laughed maniacally, it was the funniest fucking thing to happen during World War II.

And now, video games.  My experience with baseball games has revolved mainly around fixing the holes I put in the wall with the controller.  Since the dawn of the industry, these have only become more and more complicated.  But when I think about “baseball video games,” the first thought in my head is “Bases Loaded” for the NES.  Which is a ridiculous, 8-bit carnival of sounds and freakishly ignorant computer ball players.  The sheer logistics of some of these games was incredible–the field was the size of a country, and none of the fielders could cover that much ground.  So if you missed a grounder, it was a home run.  This was usually when my controller met the wall.

It makes a “Wee-yoo!” sound every time the ball is thrown, there’s a quick cinematic of the pitcher having a nervous breakdown every time the opposing team hits a home run, and if I remember correctly, there’s not shortstop in the field.  But the thing is a classic, and by the end, you’re not even playing baseball–you’re playing Bases Loaded.  It has a totally different set of hurdles than an actual baseball game.  So maybe being detached from reality that far endeared it to me moreso than games that just remind me how terrible I was at playing it.

Also, New Jersey has a baseball team in the game.  I mean, New Jersey!  Ridiculous.

Was this list at all helpful?  Probably not.  Was it even a list?  Not really.  Merry Christmas. everyone.  Now go out there and purchase any one of those three hard to find and/or totally obsolete items I just mentioned.