I have scanned the,old sports pictures, old baseball cards and TV's 2016 channels for a glimpse of the sacred "low five".
Why has it been hidden for so many years? Who has hidden it? How did it vanish? I have many questions about this. I hope to find the answers to some of them.
The first time I witness the low five was watching a baseball game in 1974.
The game was between the Oakland A's and the (then) California Angels.
I saw outfielder Joe Rudi coming to the dugout after hitting a home run and he eyes Reggie Jackson as if to say "put them out dude!"and Reggie has his two hands stretched out in front of him and Joe slams both of Reggies hands down with his own. Big smiles on both of their faces. That's my Kodak "low five" moment.
The low five was used throughout my childhood. All us kids used it when we crossed home plate, scored a touchdown, hit the game winning basket, or just said something clever.
Hey guys Slap me five, or slap me ten, slip me some skin..too slow.
Those low fives meant more than just celebrations on the field.
You could low five to say hello.
Low five to to say good bye.
Low five to say your sorry.
Low five to promise.
Low five to agree.
Low fives for doing something cool.
I remember Kenny Muccis low five. One of the most enthusiastic guys I have ever known.
He'd hit you so hard , he had hands of stone, I thought my arms would come out of the sockets, arms just laying there on the ground. I always received low fives from him, but also was praying he would take it easy for once. No such luck.
I remember the tingly feeling and the red palms to this day.
So what happened to the lovable low five? Was it banned from sports (those commissioners ruin everything), was a diabolial marketing plan for the High Five in the works? Did the low five become a gang sign?
What?
Dusty Baer and Glenn Burke of the Los Angeles Dodger , were thought to start the "High Five Craze". With the first above the head, one time, one handed, palm to palm slap all the coolness of the low five was just slapped into oblivion.
We have progressed though. We have gone from High Five to Fore Arm Smash to Chest Bump to Fist Pump to now the high performance slap routines.
All the above creations are unique in there own ways and everyone has there own style of giving and receiving. Some people know how to give them and some people should just let the professional do it. I know a dude who broke his wrist because of a forearm smash. Moron!
However, I would most like to see the Low Five revived and live on in sports lore.
We all deserve a second chance, right?
So if you see me from afar and we come to cross paths. Keep you eyes alert and your hands low.
This is what makes me a sports freak. Low five..on the side.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
An Old Ball Game
As I turned on the TV to catch up on the baseball game, the camera view of the game was very interesting. For a total of 26 seconds the screen did not have any stats of the game telling me the essential game info. I didn't know how many out, what inning and most importantly who was winning. There was no continuous ticker running at the bottom of the screen telling me the same thing over and over. Was I in the Twilight zone? Had I gone back in time 30 years?
During this 26 seconds of bliss, it got me thinking to my idea of having a true RETRO Baseball Game. Not the retro games that everybody has done a thousand time before . You know them, the 70's Disco Night, Rockin' the 80's andThe 60's Peace Out has been there a few times as well.
My game would be a retro game from the 1920"s or 1930 era.
Some of things that I would love to see happen for this game would be.
Baggy Cloth Uniforms. The game would stipulate that they be worn correctly. The socks worn to the knee the pants to just below the knee. The belts would be there as well. Aren't we all sick of the new trend that players are looking like they are wearing their pajamas on the field.
Cleats. Cleats should be cleats. Sharp metal ones, not the sissy plastic ones they play with now. The cleats worn in the day by players were all the same. No company sponsored shoes. Not for basketball looking cleats . Black with black laces, simple.
The Reporters/Photographers. I would love to see the reporters sitting in the stands with the paying patrons. The seats are where you really feel the action of the game. Reporters could get a great stories just listening and watching the fans. Not the booth half way up the stadium and to boot it is sound proof. Reporters would have to carry a pad and pencil, have their Official Report ID on the suit or hat.
Photographers, I know you are around the field level already but wouldn't it be cool to be out on the field around home plate , ten or so feet from the batter or on the foul line during then game. Using your old time cameras,even those tripods that look 6 feet tall.
I would love to see that.
Concessions: This is the easiest. Make the cost equal the 1930's.
Make sure that the Game Program has a scorecard is included.
I am sure a hot dog company would love to sponsor the 5 cent dog night.
Double goes for the beer company.
Oh yeah, no sushi, no quesadillas, no wraps, no chicken and brocolli dinners, no cotton candy
Just concession food from the 193o's
These seem like some good ideas until I thought what I think may be the best
FANS. All attending guests must dress to impress.
Yes ladies you should be in a dress and lovely hat. An umbrella to protect you from the sun. Sunglasses weren't around then.
Dudes!! the Dark suit ,ties and shoes along with the hats that were the rage then.
No jerseys.No jeans. No sneakers . No freaking business casual wear allowed.
Stadium staff would have the right to turn you away if you came inappropriately dressed.
I hope that I have the opportunity to take in a ballgame like the one describe above.
We can all dream.
That's what makes me a sports freak.
During this 26 seconds of bliss, it got me thinking to my idea of having a true RETRO Baseball Game. Not the retro games that everybody has done a thousand time before . You know them, the 70's Disco Night, Rockin' the 80's andThe 60's Peace Out has been there a few times as well.
My game would be a retro game from the 1920"s or 1930 era.
Some of things that I would love to see happen for this game would be.
Baggy Cloth Uniforms. The game would stipulate that they be worn correctly. The socks worn to the knee the pants to just below the knee. The belts would be there as well. Aren't we all sick of the new trend that players are looking like they are wearing their pajamas on the field.
Cleats. Cleats should be cleats. Sharp metal ones, not the sissy plastic ones they play with now. The cleats worn in the day by players were all the same. No company sponsored shoes. Not for basketball looking cleats . Black with black laces, simple.
The Reporters/Photographers. I would love to see the reporters sitting in the stands with the paying patrons. The seats are where you really feel the action of the game. Reporters could get a great stories just listening and watching the fans. Not the booth half way up the stadium and to boot it is sound proof. Reporters would have to carry a pad and pencil, have their Official Report ID on the suit or hat.
Photographers, I know you are around the field level already but wouldn't it be cool to be out on the field around home plate , ten or so feet from the batter or on the foul line during then game. Using your old time cameras,even those tripods that look 6 feet tall.
I would love to see that.
Concessions: This is the easiest. Make the cost equal the 1930's.
Make sure that the Game Program has a scorecard is included.
I am sure a hot dog company would love to sponsor the 5 cent dog night.
Double goes for the beer company.
Oh yeah, no sushi, no quesadillas, no wraps, no chicken and brocolli dinners, no cotton candy
Just concession food from the 193o's
These seem like some good ideas until I thought what I think may be the best
FANS. All attending guests must dress to impress.
Yes ladies you should be in a dress and lovely hat. An umbrella to protect you from the sun. Sunglasses weren't around then.
Dudes!! the Dark suit ,ties and shoes along with the hats that were the rage then.
No jerseys.No jeans. No sneakers . No freaking business casual wear allowed.
Stadium staff would have the right to turn you away if you came inappropriately dressed.
I hope that I have the opportunity to take in a ballgame like the one describe above.
We can all dream.
That's what makes me a sports freak.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Wiffle Ball
As I was walking through Wal-Mart today when I overheard a little boy pleading for his mom to buy him a wiffle ball and bat. To his dismay and mine the mom said "Sorry honey, maybe next time". I'm sure my groan was heard throughout the store.
Wiffle Ball is, was and shall be the easiest but most complex game that I have ever played.
You would probably think may cricket or jai alai, but no really, it's the kids game that I love.
I played wiffle ball with the classic yellow bat and white wiffle ball with the wiffle holes. The originals. Nowadays the kids think the red bat that Barney Rubble could've use and the ball made with no holes is wiffle ball. No holes!
I remember the games played in my neighborhood, the one on one battles, the two on two gems and catcher flies up til sundown. We made fields out of any yard, Steve's backyard was long & thin with trees as foul ground on the third base side and the house as foul on the first base side. We played until we wore out base lines in the grass. You think his dad would have been pissed. But he played with us kids. Using his patented "salami sinker" pitch he mowed us down like Nolan Ryan.
Amazing how you can still visualizethe batting stances of your childhood friends. Davey's classic stroke , picture perfect. Sal's looping swing- only hitting the low and away pitch, everything else was missed by a mile. Mine- a right handed dead pull hitter. I must have hit a thousand foul into the tree down the line at third. Which make my most vivid memory all the weirder. My first homerun in the yard was a left handed (yes lefty.. for christ sakes!) mammoth shot hit off Steves Dad. I saw Steves, running from second, head turn quick to look at the ball soaring and seeing his open mouth screaming excitingly, smiling like crazy kid. I heard nothing. Jogging in slow motion, watching the ball, I wished the ball would have stayed in the air forever.
Perfect.
I can still hear Mom's whistle calling me in during the middle of an intense game in front of Marios house. I'd scream back" I'm coming!" 3 more whistles and 3 more screams from me was the norm. Marios front yard was diffcult terrain to cover. We pitched from one side of the street to the other. Fielders played on the lawn, the really nicely manicured lawn. We ran through the flower beds and dove into the shrubs to catch the damn ball. Big Len got bent many times after finding his new flowers trampled. Not sure why none of us ever broke our necks. Pure love of the game spared us, I guess.
Pitching the wiffle ball was never my thing. I studied the box, you know the box, it would show you how to grip the ball to make it curve in, out, up, down, diagonal. I never got it. My favorite pitch was fast and straight. Needless to say I was lit up more than Brian Kingman, yes that Brian Kingman. Mario on the other hand could make the damn ball dance. He'd hit the strike box on the wall every time. My upper cut pull swing was no match for his submarine pitch, his over the top slider, his Fernando Screw Job pitch, his Rose Place curve. He didn't name them, I did, out of respect. Still to this day when I see someone pitch a wiffle ball, I say to myself, Mario would put them to shame.
ToLenny, Mario, Steve, Davey, Sal, Kenny, Frankie, Jayu .
Good game guys.
Whhoooossh of the bat. The "Click"of the hit
Oh yeah....the pain when your finger got stuck in the ball.
That why I'm a sports freak.
Wiffle Ball is, was and shall be the easiest but most complex game that I have ever played.
You would probably think may cricket or jai alai, but no really, it's the kids game that I love.
I played wiffle ball with the classic yellow bat and white wiffle ball with the wiffle holes. The originals. Nowadays the kids think the red bat that Barney Rubble could've use and the ball made with no holes is wiffle ball. No holes!
I remember the games played in my neighborhood, the one on one battles, the two on two gems and catcher flies up til sundown. We made fields out of any yard, Steve's backyard was long & thin with trees as foul ground on the third base side and the house as foul on the first base side. We played until we wore out base lines in the grass. You think his dad would have been pissed. But he played with us kids. Using his patented "salami sinker" pitch he mowed us down like Nolan Ryan.
Amazing how you can still visualizethe batting stances of your childhood friends. Davey's classic stroke , picture perfect. Sal's looping swing- only hitting the low and away pitch, everything else was missed by a mile. Mine- a right handed dead pull hitter. I must have hit a thousand foul into the tree down the line at third. Which make my most vivid memory all the weirder. My first homerun in the yard was a left handed (yes lefty.. for christ sakes!) mammoth shot hit off Steves Dad. I saw Steves, running from second, head turn quick to look at the ball soaring and seeing his open mouth screaming excitingly, smiling like crazy kid. I heard nothing. Jogging in slow motion, watching the ball, I wished the ball would have stayed in the air forever.
Perfect.
I can still hear Mom's whistle calling me in during the middle of an intense game in front of Marios house. I'd scream back" I'm coming!" 3 more whistles and 3 more screams from me was the norm. Marios front yard was diffcult terrain to cover. We pitched from one side of the street to the other. Fielders played on the lawn, the really nicely manicured lawn. We ran through the flower beds and dove into the shrubs to catch the damn ball. Big Len got bent many times after finding his new flowers trampled. Not sure why none of us ever broke our necks. Pure love of the game spared us, I guess.
Pitching the wiffle ball was never my thing. I studied the box, you know the box, it would show you how to grip the ball to make it curve in, out, up, down, diagonal. I never got it. My favorite pitch was fast and straight. Needless to say I was lit up more than Brian Kingman, yes that Brian Kingman. Mario on the other hand could make the damn ball dance. He'd hit the strike box on the wall every time. My upper cut pull swing was no match for his submarine pitch, his over the top slider, his Fernando Screw Job pitch, his Rose Place curve. He didn't name them, I did, out of respect. Still to this day when I see someone pitch a wiffle ball, I say to myself, Mario would put them to shame.
ToLenny, Mario, Steve, Davey, Sal, Kenny, Frankie, Jayu .
Good game guys.
Whhoooossh of the bat. The "Click"of the hit
Oh yeah....the pain when your finger got stuck in the ball.
That why I'm a sports freak.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Usain-ity!
"The 100 meter dash"
The winner of this race is pronounced as the "World's Fastest Human."
Let me say this again, The World's Fastest Human.
As I was driving home, I had remembered seeing earlier in the day the headline for the much hyped Tyson Gay vs Usain Bolt 100 meter race at this years World Championships. My foot could not have been pushing on the accelerator harder. I couldn't get home fast enough.
This event for me has as much excitement as does a Heavyweight Title Fight (then) or UFC Title Match (Now). I almost drove through the garage door knowing that I could not dare to miss one second of this race (Really that's just 10% of the race).
The runners arrived to the track, walking regally to their lane assignments. The runners couldn't have been more different.
Tyson Gay was all business Getting himself psyched up to the point of crossing over to the dark side. I was looking for him to slap himself into a frenzy. Sort of scared the crap out of me.
Usain Bolt on the other hand, mugging for the cameraman to get his face on the stadium big screens. Striking his patented pose "The Lightning Bolt" for another ten thousand people wanting to get that shot of him. He was kidding around with countrymen, Asama Powell, like they were kids. The thousands of spectator in the stadium and the one in his living room were eating this up. My eyes couldn't move from the TV. I felt like standing to watch this so I did, like this would make me feel more in the moment, as they ran down the track. I could may be run with them.
The starting gun goes off (POP!!!) My hair is standing on end right now.The Bolt has shot from crouch to running top speed in 4 steps. He is a giant compared to the other men running already looking to catch up. At 50 meters, Usain has reached his cruising speed (like 164 mile an hour!). The other runners look pained at the thought of having to run another 50 meters, as Usain was looking around for the nearest camera to smile into. I am seeing this but not believing the speed of this man.
Then Bolt glided, yes glided (wasn't even breathing hard) over the final 50 meters while running through the tape like a true sprinter should (Reminder to Usain...you should always run through the tape). I can't believe my eyes as I see the clock and it shows 9.58 seconds a New World Record. My heart is beating as fast as any runner right now. My fists pumping in the air wishing I could be high fiving the guy next to me in that stadium.
This is that moment that makes me a sports freak.
As I arrived to work on Monday I asked my co worker if he had seen the race that Usain ran and his response was "Who?"
The world is Usain's stage now. Get ready for the show. Don"t blink or your going to miss it.
The winner of this race is pronounced as the "World's Fastest Human."
Let me say this again, The World's Fastest Human.
As I was driving home, I had remembered seeing earlier in the day the headline for the much hyped Tyson Gay vs Usain Bolt 100 meter race at this years World Championships. My foot could not have been pushing on the accelerator harder. I couldn't get home fast enough.
This event for me has as much excitement as does a Heavyweight Title Fight (then) or UFC Title Match (Now). I almost drove through the garage door knowing that I could not dare to miss one second of this race (Really that's just 10% of the race).
The runners arrived to the track, walking regally to their lane assignments. The runners couldn't have been more different.
Tyson Gay was all business Getting himself psyched up to the point of crossing over to the dark side. I was looking for him to slap himself into a frenzy. Sort of scared the crap out of me.
Usain Bolt on the other hand, mugging for the cameraman to get his face on the stadium big screens. Striking his patented pose "The Lightning Bolt" for another ten thousand people wanting to get that shot of him. He was kidding around with countrymen, Asama Powell, like they were kids. The thousands of spectator in the stadium and the one in his living room were eating this up. My eyes couldn't move from the TV. I felt like standing to watch this so I did, like this would make me feel more in the moment, as they ran down the track. I could may be run with them.
The starting gun goes off (POP!!!) My hair is standing on end right now.The Bolt has shot from crouch to running top speed in 4 steps. He is a giant compared to the other men running already looking to catch up. At 50 meters, Usain has reached his cruising speed (like 164 mile an hour!). The other runners look pained at the thought of having to run another 50 meters, as Usain was looking around for the nearest camera to smile into. I am seeing this but not believing the speed of this man.
Then Bolt glided, yes glided (wasn't even breathing hard) over the final 50 meters while running through the tape like a true sprinter should (Reminder to Usain...you should always run through the tape). I can't believe my eyes as I see the clock and it shows 9.58 seconds a New World Record. My heart is beating as fast as any runner right now. My fists pumping in the air wishing I could be high fiving the guy next to me in that stadium.
This is that moment that makes me a sports freak.
As I arrived to work on Monday I asked my co worker if he had seen the race that Usain ran and his response was "Who?"
The world is Usain's stage now. Get ready for the show. Don"t blink or your going to miss it.
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