I am embarrassed to have an opinion about what a director I’ve only seen I think 3 movies by said on a podcast but every time I’ve ever seen Matthew Lillard in a movie I’ve enjoyed it; giving props to work you like rules over being catty and rude, & people who think catty and rude is good are bores
Long time Alice Cooper sideman Ryan Roxie.
@lansingmifacts.com you guys might already be on this but I thought this was possibly of interest: variety.com/2025/film/ne...
I appreciate the 92.1 Ticket memory! Jack E. with Tom Crawford. Mad Dog, Valenti, Fred Heuman did great interviews with his Detroit connections.
TIGERS WIN. PLAN THE PARADE.
FINAL
Wiffle ball in style - thanks to Baseball Central’s owner TJ Runnells and his appreciation of baseball art.
beautyofagame.substack.com/p/a-los-ange...
MLB is celebrating the 12 active Japanese players through custom manholes to be installed at locations associated with the player’s baseball roots in Japan. Cubs Suzuki's will be located in Arakawa Ward, Tokyo & Imanaga's in Kitakyushu City, Fukuoka Prefecture.
Here's what they'll look like:
Today on Beauty of a Game I talk with author Luke Epplin about how vintage sports cards inspire the cover design of his critically acclaimed books.
@lukeepplin.bsky.social
open.substack.com/pub/beautyof...
“Tasted a little tear gas— tasted like fascism”
imagine if we had given billions in govt subsidies to Sun Ra instead
Incredible blog here. This is a gift link: defector.com/what-world-d...
The Pope being a baseball fan means it's time for my favorite story. StL great "Ducky" Joe Medwick from the Gashouse Gang once met Pope Pious XII during a USO tour. He said, "Your Holiness, you and I have something in common." "What is that?" Pious asked.
"We were both once Cardinals."
Colored-pencil card drawing of the Destroyer
Pro-wrestling legend Dick Beyer wrestled his first match as the Destroyer on this date in 1962.
If they don’t fire the coordinator it’s bullshit.
ah yes we're going into extras and true to the Manfred man, there's a runner in the night
SamurCy Skubal, “My
blade shall drink deeply this day.”
Orioles vanquished.
Colored-pencil card drawing of the Phillie Phanatic
The Phillie Phanatic made his MLB debut on this date in 1978.
27000 days ago (May 22, 1951), 19-year-old Bob Lightbody, who’s missing his right hand, throws a three-hit shutout for Great Falls in the Class C Pioneer League. He eventually gets sent down to Class D ball and pitches well there, but his career ends in 1951, possibly due to injury.
Colored-pencil card drawing of Tyler Soderstrom
Tyler Soderstrom, Athletics, 2024 Topps
#cardsky
Reggie Jackson & a bunch of kids wearing what can only be described as "Late-'70s summer wear," 1979 #Yankees
#Baseball
ELLY DE LA CRUZ IS AMAZING
Jack Lohrke survived the Battle of the Bulge and the invasion of Normandy during WWII—but the former Spokane Indians player found life and his baseball career just as perilous upon his return. #GoSpo
Colored-pencil card drawing of Roddy Piper in “They Live”
Remembering “Rowdy” Roddy Piper, born on this date in 1954
Colored-pencil card drawing of CJ Abrams after hitting a home run, with pitcher Landon Knack pointing at the ball in flight
Screen shot on which the card drawing is based
I’m a few days late on this one, but I’ve been meaning to draw this CJ Abrams home run (and Landon Knack reaction) ever since it happened last week…
Chet Lemon, 1975 #Whitesox
#Baseball
Colored-pencil card drawing of George Steele eating the corner of the card
Pro-wrestling legend George “the Animal” Steele was born on this date in 1937.
Matthew Trueblood nails it: "[Jackie Robinson] brought diversity, equality and inclusion into the workplace, not diminishing meritocracy in the process, but introducing real meritocracy for the first time in the history of that workplace." twinsdaily.com/news-rumors/...
This is absolutely wild
A newspaper clipping from Mike Ryoko part one: Jackie's Debut a Unique Day All that Saturday, the wise men of the neighborhood, who sat in chairs on the sidewalk outside the tavern, had talked about what it would do to baseball. I hung around and listened because baseball was about the most important thing in the world, and if anything was going to ruin it, I was worried. Most of the things they said, I didn't understand, although it all sounded terrible. But could one man bring such ruin? They said he could and would. And the next day he was going to be in Wrigley Field for the first time, on the same diamond as Hack, Nicholson, Cavarretta, Schmitz, Pafko, and all my other idols. I had to see Jackie Robinson, the man who was going to somehow wreck everything. So the next day, another kid and I started walking to the ballpark early. We always walked to save the streetcar fare. It was five or six miles, but I felt about baseball the way Abe Lincoln felt about education. Usually, we could get there just at noon, find a seat in the grandstand, and watch some batting practice. But not that Sunday, May 18, 1947. By noon, Wrigley Field was almost filled. The crowd outside spilled off the sidewalk and into the streets. Scalpers were asking top dollar for box seats and getting it.
Part II: I had never seen anything like it. Not just the size, although it was a new record, more than 47,000. But this was twenty-five years ago, and in 1947 few blacks were seen in the Loop, much less up on the white North Side at a Cub game. That day, they came by the thousands, pouring off the northbound Ls and out of their cars. They didn't wear baseball-game clothes. They had on church clothes and funeral clothes·suits, white shirts, ties, gleaming shoes, and straw hats. I've never seen so many straw hats. As big as it was, the crowd was orderly. Almost unnaturally so. People didn't jostle each other. The whites tried to look as if nothing unusual was happening, while the blacks tried to look casual and dignified. So everybody looked slightly ill at ease. For most, it was probably the first time they had been that close to each other in such great numbers. We managed to get in, scramble up a ramp, and find a place to stand behind the last row of grandstand seats. Then they shut the gates. No place remained to stand. Robinson came up in the first inning. I remember the sound. It wasn't the shrill, teenage cry you now hear, or an excited gut roar. They applauded, long, rolling applause. A tall, middle-aged black man stood next to me, a smile of almost painful joy on his face, beating his palms together so hard they must have hurt.
Part III: When Robinson stepped into the batter's box, it was as if someone had flicked a switch. The place went silent. He swung at the first pitch and they erupted as if he had knocked it over the wall. But it was only a high foul that dropped into the box seats. I remember thinking it was strange that a foul could make that many people happy. When he struck out, the low moan was genuine. I've forgotten most of the details of the game, other than that the Dodgers won and Robinson didn't get a hit or do anything special, although he was cheered on every swing and every routine play. But two things happened I'll never forget. Robinson played first, and early in the game a Cub star hit a grounder and it was a close play. Just before the Cub reached first, he swerved to his left. And as he got to the bag, he seemed to slam his foot down hard at Robinson's foot. It was obvious to everyone that he was trying to run into him or spike him. Robinson took the throw and got clear at the last instant. I was shocked. That Cub, a hometown boy, was my biggest hero. It was not only an unheroic stunt, but it seemed a rude thing to do in front of people who would cheer for a foul ball. I didn't understand why he had done it. It wasn't at all big league. I didn't know that while the white fans were relatively polite, the Cubs and most other teams kept up a steady stream of racial abuse from the dugout. I thought that all they did down there was talk about how good Wheaties are.
Part IV: Late in the game, Robinson was up again, and he hit another foul ball. This time it came into the stands low and fast, in our direction. Somebody in the seats grabbed for it, but it caromed off his hand and kept coming. There was a flurry of arms as the ball kept bouncing, and suddenly it was between me and my pal. We both grabbed. I had a baseball. The two of us stood there examining it and chortling. A genuine major-league baseball that had actually been gripped and thrown by a Cub pitcher, hit by a Dodger batter. What a possession. Then I heard the voice say: "Would you consider selling that?" It was the black man who had applauded so fiercely. I mumbled something. I didn't want to sell it. "I'll give you ten dollars for it," he said. Ten dollars. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what ten dollars could buy because I'd never had that much money. But I knew that a lot of men in the neighborhood considered sixty dollars a week to be good pay. I handed it to him, and he paid me with ten $1 bills. When I left the ball park, with that much money in my pocket, I was sure that Jackie Robinson wasn't bad for the game. Since then, I've regretted a few times that I didn't keep the ball. Or that I hadn't given it to him free. I didn't know, then, how hard he probably had to work for that ten dollars. But Tuesday I was glad I had sold it to him. And if that man is still around, and has that baseball, I'm sure he thinks it was worth every cent.
The largest paying crowd in the history of Wrigley Field was the day Jackie Robinson made his debut. Wrigley is the only park left Jackie played a game in. Mike Ryoko was a kid at that ballpark that day and he wrote about it. Take a minute and read this today.
press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago...
Jackie Robinson. Boys Clubs of Boston Roxbury Clubhouse.
