Spring Training Thoughts: Baseball Bets and Florida Fun
Ah, baseball begins again! The pitchers and catchers are playing in the sweet, sparkling sunshine in the land of the fabled Fountain of Youth.
No, hard eyed Ponce de León never found that magic fountain. The murderous conquistador died painfully kicking his Spanish leather boots in the hot sand with a sharp poisoned arrow burning up his brain.
Florida, like baseball, is not always what it seems.
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No, it is Seminole Bingo, foreclosed houses, empty, half-built condos, and angry, frightened senior citizens.
It is aging, armed CIA "Spooks" and cranky Cubans waiting for Castro to croak.
It is the witness protection mob hit men running crazed calzone shops and cracking customers.
It is the Space Coast praying their space ship does not shatter.
It is a Key West so yuppified Hemingway would weep in his whiskey.
It is Goofy, Mickey, Minnie, and Daffy drinking heavily because Madoof made off with the big mad mouse's hoarded money. Minnie is moaning every night and tearing out her perfect mouse hair because that black-hearted bastard stole her stash.
In is a warm land of cartoon characters gone to seed, the demented Daffy Duck is the one ye should be worried about. Not only is the duck drunk all the time but the frightened mice whisper that he is heavily armed and angry. He is also sick of being treated like a cartoon character by some twisted banker big boy in a $10,000 suit.
Minnie says debauched Daffy waves his pistols in his cracked mirror, dead drunk by midnight, and roars "Say hello to my little friend." He also screams "are you talking to the demon Duck, are you talking to me!"
Degenerate Daffy lost a bunch on a bad bankers' hunch. With morning whiskey on his septic tank breath, he hisses to frightened fat children: "It ain't Disney World no more fat ass, get in shape and get a damn job. The big darkness be coming."
It is "quacky" Daffy, howling drunk, raging in the long black night and viciously vowing to sack Palm Beach like the Visigoths sacked old Rome. Mickey, they say, was never the mean one. It was always the duck that was demented and dangerous. Daffy went bad and Goofy mean mad, but maybe Jerry Jones will make them Cowboys so they ain't so sad.
It is bombed, soft-brained B-list Bunnies overdosing and dying in bizarre Indian casinos.
It is stoned gators being wrestled by half-drunk Seminoles. It is parts of Miami that are so mean that even the police fear to tread there.
It is the sleepy-eyed mob men sadly moaning about a new breed of criminal. The Eastern Europeans, the Triad, the Caribs, and the South Americans bustling about making bucks the old-fashioned American way--stealing them.
It is the vapid, silicon-soaked, capitalistically-crazed, super skinny shades of South Beach. Empty cocained eyes, maxed credit cards, plastic faces, and white noses rolling along like mad mice on an old crumbling wheel.
It is dead-eyed junk bond kings and frightened bankers gone bad hiding in billion-dollar mansions hoping the storm, and the indictments, will pass them by. They are praying even harder that the terrible Skink Tyree does not slither from the swamp to deliver them justice--old-southern style.
It is the old Fontainebleau whispering mad tales of mob glories of yore: plots, dames, rum-drunk generals, and dangerous men long dead, now just angry shades roaming its haunted halls hissing of plots and Black Op's, murder, mayhem, assassinations and coups on moonless midnights.
It is the sad ambushed, ghost of John Ashley wandering the steamy Everglades nights wondering what became of his Florida.
It is the big hurricane waiting to happen, and sometimes you can sympathize with the little dog about to be gobbled down by the icy eyed, evilly grinning gator. Sometimes you are that doomed dog.
It is Florida, and it is baseball in all it reptilian grace.
Florida can bring out the werewolf in all of us, even on moonless nights on desolate beaches slowly dying from the ripping oceans ever crashing tides.
The moon calls the tune we all dance to but, as George Carlin said, "There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls."
This is not a Carl Hiaasen tome so let us bring on the baseball banter.
It is not A-Roid, A-Hole or A-Fraud or whatever he is called these days.
It is not the Mets stadium being bilked for billions from a bailed out bank.
No, it is not the Mets fans bleating from the stands because they have just been fleeced.
It is not Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens looming indictments or Roberto Alomar's ugly AIDS court case.
It is not the Shakespearean tale unfolding in Gotham where Hank and Hal have food tasters trying each dish the other one prepared while they draw lots to see who will smother the old Emperor gone to seed.
It is not arrests, steroids, drugs, divorces, and it is especially not Madonna with that phony British accent laughing in A-Roid's ear.
No it is baseball, damn it. It is America's pastime they say. It is as pure as chess with strategy and tactics as tricky as war or so the purists say. What is left to say?
Except for this:
"Where have you Gone Joe Dimaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.... Joltin' Joe has left and gone away."
It is almost spring! Rebirth, baseball, Sweet Persephone is making her ancient, long winding-way up from the Underworld to meet her welcoming, warm-armed Momma.
Play Ball!
Hit it, John!
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.
A-roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin’ it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don’t say "it ain’t so", you know the time is now.
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Yeah! I got it, I got it!
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it’s time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch ’em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) it’s gone and you can tell that one goodbye!
Yeah!
ODDS TO WIN THE 2009 MLB WORLD SERIES
Sun 3/1 1:00 a.m. (EST)
9001 ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS +1900
9002 ATLANTA BRAVES +1500
9003 BALTIMORE ORIOLES +8000
9004 BOSTON RED SOX +700
9005 CHICAGO CUBS +700
9006 CHICAGO WHITE SOX +2500
9007 CINCINNATI REDS +4000
9008 CLEVELAND INDIANS +1250
9009 COLORADO ROCKIES +5000
9010 DETROIT TIGERS +2500
9011 FLORIDA MARLINS +4000
9012 HOUSTON ASTROS +6000
9013 KANSAS CITY ROYALS +8000
9014 LOS ANGELES ANGELS +1200
9015 LOS ANGELES DODGERS +1800
9016 MILWAUKEE BREWERS +5000
9017 MINNESOTA TWINS +2500
9018 NEW YORK METS +600
9019 NEW YORK YANKEES +250
9020 OAKLAND ATHLETICS +3000
9021 PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES +1000
9022 PITTSBURGH PIRATES +9000
9023 SAN DIEGO PADRES +10000
9024 SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS +3000
9025 SEATTLE MARINERS +8000
9026 ST. LOUIS CARDINALS +2500
9027 TAMPA BAY RAYS +1000
9028 TEXAS RANGERS +5000
9029 TORONTO BLUE JAYS +6000
9030 WASHINGTON NATIONALS +10000
2009 AMERICAN LEAGUE PENNANT
ODDS TO WIN THE 2009 AMERICAN LEAGUE PENNANT
Sun 3/1 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9031 BALTIMORE ORIOLES +5000
9032 BOSTON RED SOX +350
9033 CHICAGO WHITE SOX +1200
9034 CLEVELAND INDIANS +800
9035 DETROIT TIGERS +1500
9036 KANSAS CITY ROYALS +4000
9037 LOS ANGELES ANGELS +650
9038 MINNESOTA TWINS +900
9039 NEW YORK YANKEES +125
9040 OAKLAND ATHLETICS +1000
9041 SEATTLE MARINERS +5000
9042 TAMPA BAY RAYS +700
9043 TEXAS RANGERS +3000
9044 TORONTO BLUE JAYS +2500
2009 NATIONAL LEAGUE PENNANT
ODDS TO WIN THE 2009 NATIONAL LEAGUE PENNANT
Sun 3/1 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9045 ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS +900
9046 ATLANTA BRAVES +900
9047 CHICAGO CUBS +300
9048 CINCINNATI REDS +1500
9049 COLORADO ROCKIES +1700
9050 FLORIDA MARLINS +1500
9051 HOUSTON ASTROS +2000
9052 LOS ANGELES DODGERS +800
9053 MILWAUKEE BREWERS +1700
9054 NEW YORK METS +250
9055 PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES +500
9056 PITTSBURGH PIRATES +5000
9057 SAN DIEGO PADRES +3000
9058 SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS +1200
9059 ST. LOUIS CARDINALS +1200
9060 WASHINGTON NATIONALS +5000
2009 NATIONAL LEAGUE EAST DIVISION
NL EAST
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9101 ATLANTA BRAVES +450
9102 FLORIDA MARLINS +600
9103 NEW YORK METS +120
9104 PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES +150
9105 WASHINGTON NATIONALS +4500
2009 NATIONAL LEAGUE CENTRAL DIVISION
NL CENTRAL
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9106 CHICAGO CUBS -160
9107 CINCINNATI REDS +600
9108 HOUSTON ASTROS +1500
9109 MILWAUKEE BREWERS +500
9110 PITTSBURGH PIRATES +2000
9111 ST LOUIS CARDINALS +500
2009 NATIONAL LEAGUE WEST DIVISION
NL WEST
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9112 ARIZONA DIAMONDBACKS +160
9113 COLORADO ROCKIES +600
9114 LOS ANGELES DODGERS +140
9115 SAN DIEGO PADRES +1800
9116 SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS +400
2009 AMERICAN LEAGUE EAST DIVISION
AL EAST
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9117 BALTIMORE ORIOLES +5000
9118 BOSTON RED SOX +175
9119 NEW YORK YANKEES -135
9120 TAMPA BAY RAYS +350
9121 TORONTO BLUE JAYS +1500
2009 AMERICAN LEAGUE CENTRAL DIVISION
AL CENTRAL
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9122 CHICAGO WHITE SOX +300
9123 CLEVELAND INDIANS +200
9124 DETROIT TIGERS +350
9125 KANSAS CITY ROYALS +1200
9126 MINNESOTA TWINS +150
2009 AMERICAN LEAGUE WEST DIVISION
AL WEST
Sun 4/5 12:00 p.m. (EST)
9127 LOS ANGELES ANGELES -220
9128 OAKLAND ATHLETICS +250
9129 SEATTLE MARINERS +1000
9130 TEXAS RANGERS +500



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