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Politics : Sioux Nation -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: twmoore who wrote (165512)	4/14/2009 1:57:47 AM
From: stockman_scott	Respond to of 362787

Porcello's youth doesn't worry Leyland jimhawkinsop.blogspot.com <<...The year that Rick Porcello was born, Jim Leyland managed the Pittsburgh Pirates to a second-place finish in the National League East. By then, Leyland had already been in the game for a quarter of a century. The year Porcello turned nine, Leyland won the World Series with the Florida Marlins. Leyland played in 446 games in the minors and managed 1,402 others. Porcello has played in 24. Leyland has managed 2,694 big league games. Porcello has pitched one. The 20-year-old Porcello, who won’t even be able to legally buy a beer until December, is scheduled to make the second start of his big league career Tuesday afternoon against the Chicago White Sox in a key early battle in the AL Central division race. But Leyland isn’t worried about Porcello’s youth. “Age, to me, is just a number,” Leyland said Monday. “He’s more mature than some 25 year olds I’ve been around. If I’m afraid to use him, I should send him out. “It’s got to be mind-boggling,” Leyland admitted. “I know it was mind-boggling to me when I first got to the big leagues. “But I think he’s figured things out pretty good. He’s figured out there is breakfast in the lunch room when he gets here in the morning. And he knows there is a nice spread after the game. This is a pretty good gig. “He’s walking around here like a 10-year veteran. He handles himself well, this is a neat thing for him. “I look at him as a major league pitcher,” Leyland continued. “He and Ryan Perry are here because we thought they could help the team...>>

To: twmoore who wrote (165512)	4/14/2009 2:10:42 AM
From: stockman_scott	Respond to of 362787

When Bird was the word freep.com By DREW SHARP DETROIT FREE PRESS COLUMNIST April 13, 2009 Mark Fidrych’s death came with the same frenetic pace of his fame – swiftly and unexpected. There’s a tragic irony to how the 54-year-old former Tiger died Monday, reportedly trapped underneath the weight of a dump truck he tried repairing. His career collapsed under the massive burden of recreating a rookie season in 1976 that turned a gangly, curly-haired eccentric into a pop culture phenomenon. Fidrych epitomized the mythical shooting star. He had his one brief flicker of light. And then, in a flash, it was over. Nobody saw it coming, especially Fidrych himself. He was a non-roster invitee to Tigers’ spring training in 1976, coming to Lakeland with a wardrobe consisting of two pairs of torn blue jeans and a pitching repertoire consisting of a tight slider with pinpoint accuracy. Fidrych’s lack of pretentiousness remained his enduring charm. The Bird always said that if baseball hadn’t worked out, he could’ve pumped gas back in Massachusetts and still happily fly about life as though he were the luckiest man on earth. Fidrych scrunched an entire career into that delightful summer. He had a no-hitter through seven innings in his first start, won nine of his first 10 starts, started the All-Star Game and even had Howard Cosell genuflecting at his feathered feet before a national television audience – all in a span of two months. He didn’t really talk to the baseball as much as he talked to all of us, reminding everyone that baseball is supposed to be fun. There was nothing wrong with a little honest goofiness. Detroit was a sports wasteland in 1976. The Tigers lost 102 games the previous season – the second highest loss total in franchise history at the time – and expectations weren’t much brighter the following year. The Wings had missed the playoffs for the sixth straight season, the franchise’s longest consecutive playoff drought. Nobody cared about the Pistons then, especially after they traded Dave Bing the prior winter. And the Lions were … well, they were the Lions. Fidrych brought rare positive light to the local sports landscape. Every start that summer became an event. Every thing stopped when Fidrych took the mound. After every victory, he’d shake every hand that was available, including the groundskeepers. Crazed fans wouldn’t leave Tiger Stadium until the Bird returned from the clubhouse for a curtain call, often in his stocking feet. The Tigers hadn’t had such an iconic national star since Denny McLain fraternized with Ed Sullivan and frequented Vegas nightclubs while winning 31 games in 1968. And then, in a blink, it was over. Fidrych never really took flight again. There were several false starts in subsequent years, but Fidrych’s career soon became the model for missed opportunities. He became one of sports’ more wistful ‘What Ifs?’ Maybe he could’ve become one of the greats had he lived a little less recklessly and grew up a little sooner. But Fidrych once told me during one of his triumphant returns to Detroit over the years that he harbored no regrets for a life span in the spotlight that lasted as long as it takes to snap a finger. Most don’t even get that split second of fame. Fidrych always thanked Detroit. It should be the other way around.