And now for something completely different…truth in politics. Wouldn’t it be great if politicians felt secure enough to tell us what they really think? Suppose there were no polls or focus groups and the two parties could just come out with it. Because we are Americans this concept seems incomprehensible. We are conditioned to spin-meisters. All of us instinctively know that whatever our elected officials say is carefully field-tested to appeal to the widest demographic possible. Consequently, we sorta know that we’re being lied to and we accept it as a political fact of life. But, how cool would it be if they just threw caution to the wind and let fire with what all of them wish they could say?
For Democrats it would be liberating. They could stop pretending to like the private sector. They could just come out and say that business is evil and it’s the job of government to take as much money from the rich as humanly possible. See, the problem isn’t that we have too many entitlement programs that cost too much, the problem is that we don’t have enough welfare and the only reason we have budget shortfalls is because the American people don’t pay enough in taxes. Democrats know that the average American is too stupid and too lazy to take care of himself. Besides, even if he can, the odds are stacked against him because this country is irretrievably racist, homophobic, and misogynistic. Those who have succeeded have done so through no personal ingenuity, but rather on the backs of others. Therefore the government has an obligation to step in and level the playing field by eliminating the class and economic disparities that unfairly exist in our society. For Democrats history is simply the story of mankind evolving away from the greed and self-interest of the individual to the utopian paradise of the collective. Each of us needs to give up our personal ambitions and desires and let the government have more and more of our money so that all of the ambitions and desires of everyone can be achieved. They could just cut all the crap about tax rates and fairness and just go ahead and say that the rich should pay a minimum of 75% of their income in taxes and be grateful that it isn’t 90%. With the new-found revenue that would flow into Washington, the great society would finally be in reach. Everyone would have free health care. College education would be free to all. People who lose their jobs would get 100% of their pay for as long as it took until they found a job. Housing would be free. Food would be free. It would be a beautiful world.
For Republicans it would be equally liberating. They could stop pretending to support Social Security and Medicare. They could just admit that the only reason they say that they do support these things is that they realize that the American people do by huge margins and to say otherwise would destroy their careers. They could unburden themselves of their core belief that all of the welfare legislation that has been passed from FDR through LBJ is in the process of destroying the fabric of the country by turning us into a nation of dependant slobs. The type of Americans who established the 13 colonies, tamed the West, and won WWII no longer exist because the modern welfare state has destroyed the epic American spirit of rugged individuality and self reliance. The modern nanny state has made pussies of us all. The real problem with the debt ceiling is that it should be lowered, not raised and we should be talking about scaling back government spending, not just slowing its growth. For Republicans, it would be such fun to just look out at a rally and say something like…”If you people expect the government to take care of you, then move to Norway! This is America. The sky is the limit here and if you want a big slice of it, its yours for the taking. Elect me and I’ll fight to help you keep as much of your own money as possible. But don’t even think of asking me to trim the defense budget because we republicans love the concept of Empire and we like to be able to kick ass every once in awhile. Oh, and if you lose your job, don’t come running to us to pay you a bunch of money for sitting on your assets for two years looking for work. That’s what a savings account is for! Want health care?…buy insurance. Can’t get insurance because youre sick? Sorry. Life is and always has been unfair. Think the government should pay all of your medical bills?…then move to Cuba. I mean really…you think we can provide health insurance for 300 million people? Have you been to the DMV or tried to mail a package at the Post Office lately? You’re on your own out there, like its been for 5000 years of recorded history…deal with it!”
The truth is this. There are more Americans who want the government to take care of them than there are Americans who want the government to leave them alone. Which is why we have a debt ceiling crisis. Ultimetely, the Democrats will win and before too much longer they won’t have to lie about it anymore.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Dummers Beach Journal...Part Five
Our last day at Dummers dawned clear and bright and I felt like my old self. I slept all the way through the night and awoke without a headache. I drove up to Morning Glory bakery, bought 4 muffins and a paper and returned to camp to drink my coffee on the beach. The mountains looked bigger somehow and closer. The sky was filled with thin feathery clouds with a soft half-moon still visable against the pale blue. The forecast was for hot temperatures today but just as I headed back to camp for breakfast a wind had started to blow, raising waves from west to east across the lake, a good sign.
Breakfast was typical Webb Lake cuisine. Bacon and ham, French toast, muffins and juice, and for the first time all week I could actually taste it. Wonderful. By this time a steady wind was blowing, the thin high clouds were thinning further and the sun was getting hotter. We made it to the beach by 10 or so and immediately went for a swim. The water was surprisingly warm and the slow agony of walking a half an hour in thirty minutes before we could jinn up the courage to go under was replaced by going under right away and doing the Dummers Beach crawl in reverse. All morning the view across the lake was stunning. At one point a float plane circled overhead, landed about a mile to the north then took off again soaring up towards Tumbledown mountain. The dude was clearly showing off and I was insanely jealous. Pam suggested that the four of us head to the canteen for a snack. All the very best candy was available, cow tails, Snickers, and the most delicious Nutty Buddy ever! Upon returning to our favorite spot on the beach and after an hour or so of reading, Pam and Kaitlin decided that it was time for lunch. Flashing their best 19th century feminine wiles they offered to serve us on the beach! There would be fluffer-nutter sandwiches, finely sliced chunks of watermelon, our choice of chips, and cold iced tea. Clearly, this place has magical powers.
The rest of the day was spent swimming, floating on rafts, and engaging each other in relaxed conversation. Surprisingly, no tears were shed. Because this would be the last day, Pam was determined to stay in the moment and enjoy every second. After a delicious dinner of Italian grilled chicken, we all loaded up in two cars and made the pilgrimage all the way to Farmington for Gifford’s Ice Cream. The night was perfect with not a trace of humidity, a fine breeze blowing. Heading back to camp we could see the fiery western sky in the distance. The sunset at camp would be incredible if only we could make it there in time. Although we missed the best of it, we all gathered in chairs by the lake to watch the dying embers of this perfect day in Maine. The camp fire later was quiet and soothing, but the smoke kept drifting to where Russ sat. He pointed out that this simply proved the old adage that smoke follows the “most beautiful” person!
We awoke to dark skies and a light mournful rain. It seems that every year we pack up in the rain. Sharon thought that the Lake was crying with us. It was a very sad morning. After saying our good-byes we began the 14 hour trip home. For Pam the tears didn’t slow until we made it to the Maine Turnpike. We arrived home at 11:15 last night to a rapturous welcome from Molly. Now I face the tyrannies that await me at the office, the demands that the real world makes upon me. Today I will rest, prepare for the hectic week ahead, and do my chores. But in a quiet corner of my mind I will linger on that beach and listen for the Loons.
Breakfast was typical Webb Lake cuisine. Bacon and ham, French toast, muffins and juice, and for the first time all week I could actually taste it. Wonderful. By this time a steady wind was blowing, the thin high clouds were thinning further and the sun was getting hotter. We made it to the beach by 10 or so and immediately went for a swim. The water was surprisingly warm and the slow agony of walking a half an hour in thirty minutes before we could jinn up the courage to go under was replaced by going under right away and doing the Dummers Beach crawl in reverse. All morning the view across the lake was stunning. At one point a float plane circled overhead, landed about a mile to the north then took off again soaring up towards Tumbledown mountain. The dude was clearly showing off and I was insanely jealous. Pam suggested that the four of us head to the canteen for a snack. All the very best candy was available, cow tails, Snickers, and the most delicious Nutty Buddy ever! Upon returning to our favorite spot on the beach and after an hour or so of reading, Pam and Kaitlin decided that it was time for lunch. Flashing their best 19th century feminine wiles they offered to serve us on the beach! There would be fluffer-nutter sandwiches, finely sliced chunks of watermelon, our choice of chips, and cold iced tea. Clearly, this place has magical powers.
The rest of the day was spent swimming, floating on rafts, and engaging each other in relaxed conversation. Surprisingly, no tears were shed. Because this would be the last day, Pam was determined to stay in the moment and enjoy every second. After a delicious dinner of Italian grilled chicken, we all loaded up in two cars and made the pilgrimage all the way to Farmington for Gifford’s Ice Cream. The night was perfect with not a trace of humidity, a fine breeze blowing. Heading back to camp we could see the fiery western sky in the distance. The sunset at camp would be incredible if only we could make it there in time. Although we missed the best of it, we all gathered in chairs by the lake to watch the dying embers of this perfect day in Maine. The camp fire later was quiet and soothing, but the smoke kept drifting to where Russ sat. He pointed out that this simply proved the old adage that smoke follows the “most beautiful” person!
We awoke to dark skies and a light mournful rain. It seems that every year we pack up in the rain. Sharon thought that the Lake was crying with us. It was a very sad morning. After saying our good-byes we began the 14 hour trip home. For Pam the tears didn’t slow until we made it to the Maine Turnpike. We arrived home at 11:15 last night to a rapturous welcome from Molly. Now I face the tyrannies that await me at the office, the demands that the real world makes upon me. Today I will rest, prepare for the hectic week ahead, and do my chores. But in a quiet corner of my mind I will linger on that beach and listen for the Loons.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Dummers Beach Journal...Part Four
Of all of the most dreaded contingencies of life, being ill while on vacation isn’t the worse thing that can happen to someone, I suppose. I mean, it’s certainly not as bad as being told by a doctor that you have a rare disease that will prohibit you from ever eating cheese again. It’s not as bad as being forced to watch reality TV all day, or even worse...C-SPAN. But as someone who has been sick almost from the day that I arrived on the sun-splashed shores of Webb Lake, I am here to tell you that it IS worse than most things.
Yesterday it got so bad I had to drive myself to the Farmington Medical Center. I was prepared to write a snarky piece about my experiences in what I was sure would be some rundown backwoods hospital. I had even come up with a name for the place…the Farmington Medical Center/ Book-Emporium/ Late-Night Car Wash, etc.. But I was pleasantly surprised to find the place to be a first-class facility with courteous, competent employees who all seemed devastated that I was here on vacation and had gotten sick. They were even more devastated to tell me that I had the mother of all colds, a venomous brew of bronchitis and sinusitis that would require high powered antibiotics and strong cough medicines. Today I sleep-walked through the day. But tonight I’m screwing on a happy face and taking the family to the Kawanhee Inn for a lovely dinner which for me will be tasteless. Afterwards, as is our tradition, we will pose for a photograph on the beautiful deck that overlooks this great lake. When you see it, you will not be able to tell that I am sick. But every time I look at it for the rest of my life, I will remember the endless coughing, no appetite, sleep-deprived, getting up to pee 5 times a night because of the stupid medicine I was taking ordeal that this week has been.
Today at lunch Vi walked up to the table all excited to tell us that they had in fact sold the camper for full price to a couple of real nice Christian ladies who were just thrilled to have it. Pam instantaneously burst into tears. Even though she understands what good news this was for them, my wife is a person of huge heart and immense loyalties. When the finality of the transaction was announced, she just was overwhelmed with loss. I feel for her and admire the intensity of her emotion. The next few days will be tough last days, as all “last days” are but we will get through it as a family. It’s what families do. It will be my job for the rest of my life to find a place that will, over time, take up residence in her heart. Nothing will ever replace Dummers for Pam, but a new place that we can call home in July will help us build new memories. Family is all about place, and for Pam this was that place for over 45 years. A new place is waiting for all of us out there somewhere. It’s my job to find it.
Yesterday it got so bad I had to drive myself to the Farmington Medical Center. I was prepared to write a snarky piece about my experiences in what I was sure would be some rundown backwoods hospital. I had even come up with a name for the place…the Farmington Medical Center/ Book-Emporium/ Late-Night Car Wash, etc.. But I was pleasantly surprised to find the place to be a first-class facility with courteous, competent employees who all seemed devastated that I was here on vacation and had gotten sick. They were even more devastated to tell me that I had the mother of all colds, a venomous brew of bronchitis and sinusitis that would require high powered antibiotics and strong cough medicines. Today I sleep-walked through the day. But tonight I’m screwing on a happy face and taking the family to the Kawanhee Inn for a lovely dinner which for me will be tasteless. Afterwards, as is our tradition, we will pose for a photograph on the beautiful deck that overlooks this great lake. When you see it, you will not be able to tell that I am sick. But every time I look at it for the rest of my life, I will remember the endless coughing, no appetite, sleep-deprived, getting up to pee 5 times a night because of the stupid medicine I was taking ordeal that this week has been.
Today at lunch Vi walked up to the table all excited to tell us that they had in fact sold the camper for full price to a couple of real nice Christian ladies who were just thrilled to have it. Pam instantaneously burst into tears. Even though she understands what good news this was for them, my wife is a person of huge heart and immense loyalties. When the finality of the transaction was announced, she just was overwhelmed with loss. I feel for her and admire the intensity of her emotion. The next few days will be tough last days, as all “last days” are but we will get through it as a family. It’s what families do. It will be my job for the rest of my life to find a place that will, over time, take up residence in her heart. Nothing will ever replace Dummers for Pam, but a new place that we can call home in July will help us build new memories. Family is all about place, and for Pam this was that place for over 45 years. A new place is waiting for all of us out there somewhere. It’s my job to find it.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Dummers Beach Journal....Part Three
A couple of nights ago we had our first fun weather event. After a gorgeous sunny day of 86 and a nice night around the campfire we got all snuggled in our amazing RV for the night. Earlier, on a whim, Pam had decided to put the 4 inflatable rafts we had been using in the huge storage bay under the RV instead of leaving them on the ground as we had done all week. In literary circles this plot device is called foreshadowing!!
Around 1:45 in the wee hours Pam and I became vaguely aware of a whistling noise from out side. Since we run the overhead fan all night and it makes such a horrendous racket we weren’t entirely certain what it was until we felt the RV start to rock gently from side to side. We quickly opened the shades to our bedroom window that faces the lake. Everything was awash in moonlight with only a few dark clouds off in the distance obscuring the view of Tumbledown. But the boats on the lake were all bobbing up and down wildly. The trees were bent over and small pieces of camp debris was flying through the air. We looked out the back window just about the time that our neighbors were evacuating their daughters from their freestanding tent in favor of the pop up camper. If Pam had left the rafts out in this mess we would have had to drive to Weld to find them! Pam walked down the hallway (yes..we have a HALLWAY in this beast!!) to check on the kids and to reassure them that ,in fact, this was NOT the end of the world. Kaitlin was enjoying the righteous sleep of the just, totally oblivious to the gale-force madness outside. Patrick was newly awake, not quite alert enough to understand what was happening but aware that his bed was rocking a pretty cool rhyme. Who knows, maybe it will inspire a composition that wins him some fabulous scholarship to graduate school.
Actually this is the sort of thing that I enjoy about camp in Maine. There’s a certain amount of fiction at play in Maine, an element of danger, a sense that all is not quite safe here. Anything might happen. Nothing is guaranteed. The uncertainty is visceral. It’s the thing that makes camp unique, the possibility of nature blowing a gasket. When I’m here, no matter how beautiful the weather is I always have one eye on the horizon with a mixture of dread and excitement.
Today I play golf. Then the afternoon on the beach. Then a lobster-roll dinner celebrating Pam’s 4-?? Birthday. I still feel awful, but its vacation so you have to plow through. I read my e-mails last night and discovered that there is a world of grief awaiting my return to Richmond. I will try to cast that depressing thought out of my mind for the next 5 days. In literary circles, that’s called denial.
Around 1:45 in the wee hours Pam and I became vaguely aware of a whistling noise from out side. Since we run the overhead fan all night and it makes such a horrendous racket we weren’t entirely certain what it was until we felt the RV start to rock gently from side to side. We quickly opened the shades to our bedroom window that faces the lake. Everything was awash in moonlight with only a few dark clouds off in the distance obscuring the view of Tumbledown. But the boats on the lake were all bobbing up and down wildly. The trees were bent over and small pieces of camp debris was flying through the air. We looked out the back window just about the time that our neighbors were evacuating their daughters from their freestanding tent in favor of the pop up camper. If Pam had left the rafts out in this mess we would have had to drive to Weld to find them! Pam walked down the hallway (yes..we have a HALLWAY in this beast!!) to check on the kids and to reassure them that ,in fact, this was NOT the end of the world. Kaitlin was enjoying the righteous sleep of the just, totally oblivious to the gale-force madness outside. Patrick was newly awake, not quite alert enough to understand what was happening but aware that his bed was rocking a pretty cool rhyme. Who knows, maybe it will inspire a composition that wins him some fabulous scholarship to graduate school.
Actually this is the sort of thing that I enjoy about camp in Maine. There’s a certain amount of fiction at play in Maine, an element of danger, a sense that all is not quite safe here. Anything might happen. Nothing is guaranteed. The uncertainty is visceral. It’s the thing that makes camp unique, the possibility of nature blowing a gasket. When I’m here, no matter how beautiful the weather is I always have one eye on the horizon with a mixture of dread and excitement.
Today I play golf. Then the afternoon on the beach. Then a lobster-roll dinner celebrating Pam’s 4-?? Birthday. I still feel awful, but its vacation so you have to plow through. I read my e-mails last night and discovered that there is a world of grief awaiting my return to Richmond. I will try to cast that depressing thought out of my mind for the next 5 days. In literary circles, that’s called denial.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Dummers Beach Journal....Part Two
The trip up was uneventful with no rain and very little traffic except for the brief period when I let Pam take the wheel. As soon as she made her way back unto 495 in Eastern Mass. The interstate ground to a halt as if the Gods of transportation knew that something was just not right. An hour and a half and 45 miles later I had had enough. We pulled into a rest area in New Hampshire and I once again seized the wheel. When I merged back onto 95 the mysterious traffic jam had disappeared and it was smooth sailing. The thirteen and a half hour trip ended at 4:45 pm Saturday afternoon. The lake was beautiful, the mountain views stunning and clear, and my throat was on fire and my chest felt like there was an anvil sitting on it. Other than that all is well.
So far Pam has cried/ gotten choked up/ abruptly ended sentences about some Dummers memory only three times. I suspect that there will be many more. She actually had convinced herself that she was prepared to say good-bye to this place. I knew better. Just before I left Richmond I bought 100 shares of Kleenex.
Today it was 86 and sunny with a wonderful breeze. The rest of the week looks even more delightful with even lower temperatures. Our fancy new Rent-A-RV diggs are amazing. Air-conditioning, working fridge and freezer, queen size mattress actually thicker than the hard backed edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. This place is sweet. But just so we don’t start feeling cocky we have discovered that the AC leaks causing a small puddle to form right in front of the kitchen sink. And apparently this place does NOT come with a cleaning service as I was lead to believe. My father-in-law….such a cheap-skate!
Ordinarily I would head out to Wilson Lake to play golf in the morning. But I feel pretty lousy and am short of breath so I think I’ll give it another day.
So far Pam has cried/ gotten choked up/ abruptly ended sentences about some Dummers memory only three times. I suspect that there will be many more. She actually had convinced herself that she was prepared to say good-bye to this place. I knew better. Just before I left Richmond I bought 100 shares of Kleenex.
Today it was 86 and sunny with a wonderful breeze. The rest of the week looks even more delightful with even lower temperatures. Our fancy new Rent-A-RV diggs are amazing. Air-conditioning, working fridge and freezer, queen size mattress actually thicker than the hard backed edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. This place is sweet. But just so we don’t start feeling cocky we have discovered that the AC leaks causing a small puddle to form right in front of the kitchen sink. And apparently this place does NOT come with a cleaning service as I was lead to believe. My father-in-law….such a cheap-skate!
Ordinarily I would head out to Wilson Lake to play golf in the morning. But I feel pretty lousy and am short of breath so I think I’ll give it another day.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Dummers Beach Journal....Part One
Tomorrow morning at 3 am I will leave Richmond in the wee hours heading to the great state of Maine and a little corner of paradise called Dummers Beach. I was introduced to this obscure dot on the map 29 years ago when I was dating Pam. Her family had always vacationed here since the dawn of time and I just HAD to go. I had heard them all celebrating its many virtues, its beautiful mountain views, its clean and perfect lake, the lobster rolls, a mysteriously named “canteen”, holder of all manner of delectable treasure. So, against my better judgment and drunk on love I climbed into their giant station wagon for the 13 hour trip. Upon arrival I was treated to the pure delight of setting up a pop-up camper in the dark, in a thunderstorm. Afterwords, soaked to the bone, I settled around the camper table for a pizza dinner featuring the much bragged upon and famed “Maddies” Pizza. It was cold and the entire bottom was black. But after the previous 14 hours of my life anything would have tasted good. At that point I figured nothing else could ever be as bad as the trip, the camper assembly and burnt pizza. I was wrong. Once we all got in our bunks for the night, that would be me and all 5 of the Whites in a camper which could comfortably sleep zero people, I discovered the terrifying echo effect that campers have with snoring. Because I refuse to publicly identify the culprit, I will just say that this particular chainsaw-Harley-Davidson-turbine engine-like sound came from my future in-laws’ wing. I may have dozed off once for 10 minutes or so but my night was spent wondering why on earth I had let my love for Pam allow me to make such an epically awful decision.
Then, the sun came up. I rolled out of the rack-o-pain torture chamber that was my “bed”, opened the door and stepped out into perhaps the biggest single surprise of my life. First of all, it was July and it was FREEZING! I quickly rummaged through my suitcase in the car to find a bath robe. Unfortunately I hadn’t packed my winter coat. I cursed softly under my breath for being such an idiot to agree to this God-forsaken vacation where I was going to freeze to death eating molded pizza for the next week. Then I glanced through the trees and saw the sun reflecting off the lake. I saw the path leading down to the water. I found myself walking slowly, mouth open in wonder. I’m from Virginia. It happens to be the best state in the union without question, but the thing is, we don’t have lakes. At least we don’t have lakes like this. I made it to the beach and saw the most beautiful combination of water and mountains I had ever seen. Little did I know then that I would be coming back to this spot 20 more times in my life and that I would fall in love not only with Pam but with her lake as well.
This week will be our last Dummers Beach trip. Russ and Vi have decided that its too much for them at this point in their lives and that’s ok. I am in the process of finding a lake house near Camden because after 29 years I’m hooked on this State. But this will be our last time here. I will be updating this blog with the hilarity that will surely ensue in the week to come. If my tech-savvy children can show me how, pictures will be forthcoming as well. Hope you enjoy.
Then, the sun came up. I rolled out of the rack-o-pain torture chamber that was my “bed”, opened the door and stepped out into perhaps the biggest single surprise of my life. First of all, it was July and it was FREEZING! I quickly rummaged through my suitcase in the car to find a bath robe. Unfortunately I hadn’t packed my winter coat. I cursed softly under my breath for being such an idiot to agree to this God-forsaken vacation where I was going to freeze to death eating molded pizza for the next week. Then I glanced through the trees and saw the sun reflecting off the lake. I saw the path leading down to the water. I found myself walking slowly, mouth open in wonder. I’m from Virginia. It happens to be the best state in the union without question, but the thing is, we don’t have lakes. At least we don’t have lakes like this. I made it to the beach and saw the most beautiful combination of water and mountains I had ever seen. Little did I know then that I would be coming back to this spot 20 more times in my life and that I would fall in love not only with Pam but with her lake as well.
This week will be our last Dummers Beach trip. Russ and Vi have decided that its too much for them at this point in their lives and that’s ok. I am in the process of finding a lake house near Camden because after 29 years I’m hooked on this State. But this will be our last time here. I will be updating this blog with the hilarity that will surely ensue in the week to come. If my tech-savvy children can show me how, pictures will be forthcoming as well. Hope you enjoy.
Monday, July 11, 2011
The Greatest Pitcher of All Time
This being the All-Star break for baseball, sports pages all over the nation are running retrospectives of the 2011 season and highlighting the best performers. So it was in yesterday’s USA Today. There in bold print with a color picture covering half the page was a story about the year’s best pitcher, Justin Verlander. In the article mention was made that he is having a “ Sandy Koufax type year” and that comparisons were being made throughout baseball between Verlander and Koufax, to which I must humbly respond…what a steaming pile of barnyard manure!!
I love Justin Verlander. He is the best picture in baseball at the moment with amazing stuff , not to mention the fact that he grew up right down the road in Manakin-Sabot. But Justin has done nothing this year or ever to warrant comparison with Sandy Koufax except that they both are pitchers. A cursory examination of the numbers would have saved the USA Today writer a world of embarrassment. First, Verlander.
So far this year Justin is 12-4 with a 2.15 era, terrific numbers for this or any season. He has made 20 starts and has 4 complete games and 2 shutouts. In 151 innings he has stuck out 147 batters, all great numbers. In addition , his career numbers through 6 seasons are impressive. He has a 95-56 career record with a 3.6 era, 14 complete games, 5 shutouts and over a thousand strikeouts. Nice work. But to compare him to the most dominant pitcher in history is laughable.
Sandy Koufax was an blazing comet that lit up baseball for 10 short years until an arthritic arm forced him to retire at the age of 31. In the last four years of his career from 1963 through 1966, Sandy Koufax was as close to un-hittable as any pitcher( since the end of the dead-ball era) has ever been. In those 4 years he had a record of 97-27 with a surreal era of 1.84. He was given the ball 150 times and threw 89 complete games and 31 shutouts. In those 1192 innings he struck out 1228 batters while managing 4 no-hitters, one of which being a perfect game. Oh, and his team made it to the World Series twice in those years with Sandy going 4-2 with an era of 0.95, winning MVP both years as he led his team to victory. During that 4 sesaon domination he won 3 Cy Young awards back when only one was given for all of baseball, not one for each league. All three awards votes were unanimous. No other pitcher in baseball history ever compiled such a four year record, not Gipson, Ryan, Seaver, Carlton, Feller, Clemens..nobody. There was nothing like Koufax then and there has been nothing like him since. The only reason he is not universally listed as the most dominant pitcher in the history of the game is because his career was cut short by arthritis. But for those four glorious years the baseball world agreed with the great Mickey Mantle who famously and profanely muttered after being blown away in the 1963 world series by Koufax…” how in the hell am I supposed to hit that sh**??” The great Willie Stargell described trying to hit Koufax this way…” its like trying to drink coffee with a fork”
I am a big Verlander fan and will continue to be. But until he becomes twice the pitcher he is today I will studiously avoid using his name in the same sentence with the great Sanford "Sandy" Koufax.
I love Justin Verlander. He is the best picture in baseball at the moment with amazing stuff , not to mention the fact that he grew up right down the road in Manakin-Sabot. But Justin has done nothing this year or ever to warrant comparison with Sandy Koufax except that they both are pitchers. A cursory examination of the numbers would have saved the USA Today writer a world of embarrassment. First, Verlander.
So far this year Justin is 12-4 with a 2.15 era, terrific numbers for this or any season. He has made 20 starts and has 4 complete games and 2 shutouts. In 151 innings he has stuck out 147 batters, all great numbers. In addition , his career numbers through 6 seasons are impressive. He has a 95-56 career record with a 3.6 era, 14 complete games, 5 shutouts and over a thousand strikeouts. Nice work. But to compare him to the most dominant pitcher in history is laughable.
Sandy Koufax was an blazing comet that lit up baseball for 10 short years until an arthritic arm forced him to retire at the age of 31. In the last four years of his career from 1963 through 1966, Sandy Koufax was as close to un-hittable as any pitcher( since the end of the dead-ball era) has ever been. In those 4 years he had a record of 97-27 with a surreal era of 1.84. He was given the ball 150 times and threw 89 complete games and 31 shutouts. In those 1192 innings he struck out 1228 batters while managing 4 no-hitters, one of which being a perfect game. Oh, and his team made it to the World Series twice in those years with Sandy going 4-2 with an era of 0.95, winning MVP both years as he led his team to victory. During that 4 sesaon domination he won 3 Cy Young awards back when only one was given for all of baseball, not one for each league. All three awards votes were unanimous. No other pitcher in baseball history ever compiled such a four year record, not Gipson, Ryan, Seaver, Carlton, Feller, Clemens..nobody. There was nothing like Koufax then and there has been nothing like him since. The only reason he is not universally listed as the most dominant pitcher in the history of the game is because his career was cut short by arthritis. But for those four glorious years the baseball world agreed with the great Mickey Mantle who famously and profanely muttered after being blown away in the 1963 world series by Koufax…” how in the hell am I supposed to hit that sh**??” The great Willie Stargell described trying to hit Koufax this way…” its like trying to drink coffee with a fork”
I am a big Verlander fan and will continue to be. But until he becomes twice the pitcher he is today I will studiously avoid using his name in the same sentence with the great Sanford "Sandy" Koufax.
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