We are, who we are.

I apologize profusely that this blog has fallen so far from what it started out to be,
I take a good chunk of responsibility for the lack of updates, and a general departure
from online posts. I feel like we’ve put so much into the podcast last season and early
this year, that it just seems like we’d be subjecting ya’ll to the same information.

But take this first post for the 2014 season as a starting point. We’ll do better to
keep you all in touch with our series previews as the season goes along.
All of that out-of-the-way, the Reds instagram account has had a contest running for
the last month. Each day is a new Reds related post, that has your personal touches
(and unbelievable filters).

This past week, I added what was only my second contribution, when it was a culmination
of sorts for everyone else. What being a Reds fan, means to me, or how we got here.

So let’s do a little history lesson, a quick rundown of how I got here.
Baseball is in my blood. My grandfather had one hell of an arm, and in the early 50’s
was in fact invited to the St.Louis Cardinals spring training. Personal circumstance
brought him back before he ever really got a shot, and instead started a family
with my Grandmother. My dad and his brothers all played baseball, so I grew up around
an entire generation of baseball players, and I cannot overstate how those summers would influence me as not just a baseball fan, but as a person.

Yeah, I know, hiss and boo because I have family ties to the enemy.

My mom’s side also has strong Pittsburgh roots, so feel free to run me out-of-town any
day now. And it was her father, my Grandpa Traverse, that really brought me into the
game. We would go on these province wide road trips that usually involved camping
myself and my three sisters in a pop up camper with both grandparents. It wasn’t the
trips, the swimming, the bonfires, or the wilderness hikes that I remember with
absolute clarity. It’s the late nights after everyone had gone to sleep, laying in a
bunk with my Grandpa, listening to Tom Cheek call Toronto Blue Jays games on the radio.
Where most kids had a lullaby, or stories to safely send them off to Neverland, for me
it was Kelly Gruber, Jesse Barfield, Tony Fernandez, Dave Steib and Tom Henke. I was
raised to cheer for the boys in blue. The sounds of the crickets chirping, the wind
playing the creaks and groans of the camper like a terrible orchestra backdrop to the
boys of summer. That’s where I came from. A good Canadian kid, that couldn’t skate, but
learned to throw a curveball.

I would split my summers between both grandparents’ towns. My Pops on my Dads side,
would tell me how the only player worth following was Pete Rose. He never slowed, he
never gave anything less than 100%, and how he’d kill a guy to win, and almost had at
one time. He never explained just how influential the Ray Fosse play was in defining
Charlie Hustle, but it’s something I still point to as a character moment for Pete.
At the same time, my Dad is a lifetime Phillies fan, so the Pete Rose influence for me
started early. It’s just that he was wearing a different jersey than I associate with
him now. My dad wanted me to be a third baseman, desperately, he’d send me out during
my practices to take grounders at third. My bruised and beaten arms and chest left a
lot to be desired, this is also why I gravitated to the outfield, the ball seemed far
less of a sociopath when it was hurtling back to earth, and ultimately my glove.

My relationship with my Dad early on was exceptionally destructive, his lifetime of
having an angry father took its toll, and had direct impact on his own four kids in
return. Don’t get me wrong, I do not begrudge or blame my dad for how he’d physically
reprimand us early on, it was all he had known. But this is also the catalyst for the
relationship and bond we share now.Dad entered anger management, where we’d have family sessions and openly discuss our feelings. With three sisters, I often felt left out of
the loop on time with either of my parents, mostly my father.

In 1995 my dad and I took our very first, and certainly not last, trip to a live ball
game. I had been to a few others, but with my Moms folks, never my own dad. We would
drive the two hours to Toronto, and talk about everything. How to read a ball off the
bat, what school was like. We began to develop a relationship that my own father came
to realize, he had always wanted with his own. My grandpa died in the winter of 1995,
one of two moments I have ever witnessed my hardened Dad cry. And not like, one of
those solitary tears and it’s over type deals, a full on emotionally devastated cry.

We had finally begun to cultivate a relationship ourselves, and it made my Dad realize
just how much he had missed out on as a kid growing up. So our baseball trips became a
yearly event, often times outside of Canada just to visit different ball parks. Our
first big road trip was to Jacobs Field in Cleveland, Ohio. I was enamored with Jim
Thome, and so badly wanted to see my favorite ball player live. And after a four-hour
rain delay, and a nine-hour drive home, I would be stuck waiting for another few years
before that came to fruition.

Our second trip, was to see the Los Angeles Dodgers take on the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field. Needless to say, I was fully behind the boys in blue that day. I detested the
stadium. From the trough style urinals, to the belligerent ticket lady that refused to
give me the Budweiser giveaway, because I was under the age of 21. The entire
experience left me disappointed.But hey, deep dish makes everything better.

Our third big trip, was to Veterans Stadium in its final year of hosting the
Philadelphia Phillies. I wish I could explain how excited my Dad was. A Phils, Eagles,
and Flyers fan, walking down Broad Street. At that point, I realized just how important
our road trips were. It didn’t matter where, because it was taking us to these
historically significant stadiums, cities, and seeing the teams that hundreds of
thousands of fans shared a love with. I saw Jim Thome play that day. But it was the
first time I saw the Cincinnati Reds in person. Years previous, we had been part of a
Scout Troop that visited Wright Patterson in Dayton, and while there a marine handed me
this rolled up paper. Years later, I would find it again. Great American Ball Park
plans, art work, blue prints.

It’s weird how this works, huh?

Our next three trips were back to Chicago, to see Frank Thomas, and the White Sox. If
you know me, you know my heart is broken into three pieces for baseball. The pale hose,
Jays, and our beloved Redlegs. I saw the Sox receive their world series rings, my dad
and I waiting in line outside of USCF for four and a half hours to ensure we got our
replica rings as part of the first twenty thousand through the gates. They had brought
Aaron Rowand back for the ceremony, and I teared up. It happens, baseball is so deeply
rooted in our hearts, that tugging at the strings of the old ticker happens a little
more easily. They lost to the bastards from Cleveland that day, Freddy Garcia pitched
like garbage but I finally experienced a chance to see my team celebrate a World Series.

We went to Detroit a few times after that, some minor league ball parks in Michigan, and finally back to Chicago in 2010 to see the same White Sox retire Frank Thomas’ number. Crying in baseball #2. I love the Big Hurt, and always will.

We’ve been through 12 years of baseball road trips, and in 2011, my dad and I made a trip to Great American Ball Park in Cincinnati, Ohio. The Reds Museum and Hall, a weekend long series against the Barves, and a Jonny Gomes bobble head later, we had our most memorable trip to date.

Friends from Wisconsin, Toronto, Michigan, and all over made the trip that weekend. We had 10 of our closest friends all in one place. After the Friday night game, and I will never forget this, Dad and I stood out on the concourse in center field above the Reds bullpen, the stadium lights the only thing left in the stadium. Dad turned to me and said one of the few things that ever really caught me off guard.

“These trips, make losing my Dad a little bit easier. Thank you”

I never realized how important it was until that moment, and even two years after our first trip, when we made our third pilgrimage to Cincinnati, I cannot express how full my heart is, knowing that while these moments have meant the world to me as a fan, they mean more to my Dad as a father.

Baseball is my heart, I share it with my best friends, my family, and the love of my life. So while we get ready for another season, I urge everyone to reflect on the moments that defined them as a fan. How they came to be Reds Country.

What’s your story?

Cincin13 081 Cincy20112 086 Random Mobile 031Cincy20112 023

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Just as the title says, I collected a bunch of the suggestions from a whole bunch of Reds fans earlier this afternoon. Put together a little jam session for everyone to get them through until first pitch! Get it cranked! LETS GO REDS!

So This Is What Being A Reds Fan Is All About?

 

So This Is What Being A Reds Fan Is All About? (WARNING: GENERALIZATIONS AHEAD)

The team is only a few games behind the division leading Cardinals and less than two games in front of the third place Pirates – the team that happens to be going up against the Reds tonight at GABP.  Even though it is a home game for the Reds, and the Pirates are shutting out the home team and winning by three runs (and end up winning 4-0), the crowd cheers wildly and suddenly erupts in cheers and fans high-five and hug all around the ballpark like Jay Bruce just hit a clinching home run.  The thing is, though… he didn’t.

I’m all for fans cheering and acting how they want to as long as it doesn’t make the fanbase – as a whole – look stupid.  The Woo (at any time of the game) and cheering for free pizza while the Reds are getting waxed does just that.  I would rather see the wave start in the 9th inning than hear Reds fans cheer like they did tonight while losing to the team breathing down the Reds necks in the standings (and I’m not a fan of the wave at critical game moments, either).  I think it’s time for LaRosa’s to rethink their promotion and make the offer valid ONLY if the Reds win. I’m pretty sure the Reds are right around .500 when striking out 11 or more during a game at Great American Ballpark, Yes, some of you may have to actually BUY your $4 personal pizzas from LaRosa’s, but maybe then Reds fans would care about the score and not just the strikeout total.

 

I’m Not Saying #FARRRDUSTY, But…

…when Dusty’s time with the Reds is over, I wouldn’t mind giving Clint Hurdle a decent lookover while searching for a new manager. The guy is a local product and makes positive things happen on the field.  Maybe his record doesn’t seem so high-powered, but he makes my short list, for sure.

 

Mat Latos Is My Favorite Pitcher

This guy has been an absolute horse for the Reds and seemingly just the guy you need in the Reds clubhouse.  I absolutely loved seeing Mat get fired up in the dugout when the butt-Pirates hit Choo. He had a bad first inning tonight, but put the Pirates in a virtual headlock afterwards.  He owns a 6-1 record and had FIVE blown games by the bullpen!  Remember when people were questioning if Latos was worth the “potential” the Reds traded away for him?  Makes me glad there are professionals handling the trades and not armchair GMs…

 

Speaking Of Armchair GMs…

…my buddy who was suggesting that Jay Bruce should be traded hasn’t come out to say he was wrong, but he’s hinted at it so much that I accept his apology for such a silly comment.  He has since said that he “always love Jay Bruce” and now sees the reason for keeping him.  Sometimes being pretty smart a super genius means you know when to give up a fight.  Knuckles, Andrew!

 

Pete Rose

Not sure what to say about Pete.  I mean, the camo hat was better than most of the headwear we’ve seen The Hit King sport at a Reds game. We’ve known he’s not the most fashion-forward guy dating back to the showing-off-your-hairy-body-while-standing-in-your-underwear advertisement, but who among us wouldn’t call in sick if Pete had an extra ticket for a ball game?  Let me just go ahead and fly this flag in case Pete sees it: Pete, if you have an extra ticket, I’d enjoy going to the game with you and talking about baseball. It’d make one hell of a Head First Slide posting!

 

Finally, Something Positive From Your Angry Blogger!

Congratulations to Richard (@HFSPodcast on Twitter) and his wife on the birth of their beautiful daughter.  Sunday was my first Father’s Day with my ten-month old little girl, but having a two week old must’ve made the day even more special, if possible.  For me, being a father has been the greatest thing to happen, and I’m sure Richard feels the same way with his new family.  Congrats buddy!

 

 

As always, thanks for reading.  I’m serious, Pete – I’d basically quit my job if you’d let me tag along to a Reds game with you. Yes, I consider this begging, but since very few people read my posts and even fewer read this italics part, I’m ok with that. Let’s make this happen!  For the non-Pete Rose readers, feel free to make fun of my begging ways in the comment section or on Twitter at @GeoffreyHoman.  Thanks again!

 

 

 

3 am Ramble on beanballs and super trolls

Disclaimer
First off I know there has been a lot of baby talk on here recently. I promise you this will not become a baby centered blog. It will continue to be Reds/Baseball etc. but I will check in with what is happening in my life (as will other contributors) and that means you might read baby related things.

Restless Red Stockings
2-1 against a very very good team is nothing to be ashamed of! But good lord did that one sting! Ahead all the way until the 8th to be defeated that way is just a disappointing result!

That being said you cant help but look at the overall weekend as a success. The team went into hostile territory down a game on Pittsburgh and left tied with them. Last time I checked anytime you gain ground on those ahead of you it is a good thing.

Beanball
This will probably be the topic of a further blog post and most assuredly on the next edition of the podcast (tentatively scheduled for this week). The Reds have been getting hit by a lot of pitches. A LOT.
So checking Baseball Reference it shows that the Reds have been hit 29(!) times this year WOW! They’ve hit 17 batters as well.

Choo of course leads with 15 times hit, Frazier and Phillips are next up with 5 each then Votto with 3 and Hanigan with 1. Now Phillips is injured based on getting hit during saturdays win in Pittsburgh. There was of course a lot of questions as to whether the Reds should retaliate and coincidentally in the first inning today a batter for the Pirates got hit.
Heres what gets me after he was hit both benches were warned. BOTH BENCHES WERE WARNED. So why when a Reds batter was then hit by a reliever was he not then tossed? Why then when we hit a batter in the later innings was our pitcher (simon?) not tossed? Thom opined on the air that the “Slider” got away from him. Lets use that as an excuse for any future beans ok? Make sure they are sliders and that they look just out of control enough that we get away with them.

SuperTroll
Stayed up really late tonight and you’d never guess why. Apparently little miss julie thinks that about 3 AM every day is time to “Rock and Roll” instead of time to sleep. Well tonights 3 AM viewing consisted of Superman 3. Good god was this a bad movie. That being said there are parts of it that are really, really funny. I don’t know if its by design or just by being a sarcastic/at times jaded person at this point in life.

Theres a whole series/subplot to the movie where Superman basically goes Emo and starts trolling everybody this part is one of the funniest damn things I’ve ever seen in a super hero movie.

What kills me with this movie though is just how strange it gets at points. I mean seriously the “Emo” superman at one point has a white light shoot through his body (out of nowhere after a day of heavy drinking) and splits into two and fights a version of clark kent. Yes all of this happens, theres more too involving a living computer and Richard Pryor. On top of everything else Lois is in the movie for all of about 3 minutes.
The whole thing is really strange overall and in many ways best forgotten, what is funny though is as someone who had forgotten much of the movie I enjoyed watching it through one more time….which I will probably never do again.

Thats all for today folks
-Richard
Follow me on twitter @hfspodcast