Vacation Hibernation

I'm heading on a vacation for a while. Normally, you wouldn't care (and I wouldn't care to tell you), but since Joyce is moving, Wes is back home, KJ's hands are finally germ-free, and Andrew is off busily building buzz (say that 10 times fast), that means the ol' Blog is going on a brief hiatus.

Fear not, though, loyal readers. Absence simply makes the heart grow fonder.

If you truly love something, set it free, and see if it comes back to you. That's deep. (If it doesn't come back, by the way, follow it around until it calls you a stalker, files a restraining order, or finally recognizes and reciprocates your love. That's what I do, at least.)

Since the Blog is inanimate, however, and can do none of the above, just sit tight (or better yet, catch up on past hijinks by reading through the archives).

There'll be more posts on the way in mid-October!

-- Dave

Goin' Back to Cali

Joyce Huang is a German-and-Chinese-speaking native of the planet Mars (or the state of California...I always get them confused) who loves math, knows nothing about pop-culture from 1970-2004, has a tapeworm named Frederick that causes her to eat 15 times a day, thinks Step Up 2: The Streets deserves an Oscar, and occasionally smartens up the blog with actual intelligent posts from time to time. Oh...and she is also a flat-leaving traitor who is pulling an L.L./Brooklyn Dodgers on us (not that we're bitter or anything):

Sadly, I recently gave my two weeks’ notice to the Cyclones, and I'll be leaving Brooklyn to return to my native California. It has been an eventful three years in New York, and naturally, the less time I have here, the more I appreciate what I’m going to miss.

Normally, I wouldn’t think to write a farewell blog (because let’s face it, we don’t want to throw my many personal fans, who definitely know who I am, into a deep abyss of depression), but...

1. Dave asked if I wanted to, and when Dave asks you something, you don’t say no (unless you simply don’t feel like it)

2. The season is over, and I’m about to leave for good, so there’s not much to do except blog

and

3. I like making lists, which I will be doing here as I recount what I will miss most about working in Brooklyn with the Cyclones:

• I will never pick up a ringing phone in California and hear “How you doin’?”
• In Cali, they don’t greet you with that warm, heartfelt kiss on the cheek the way they do in Brooklyn, so that you feel like you can always come over for milk and cookies. Where I’m from, they greet you with the Oprah/pregnant lady hug, where you stand an arm’s length from each other and pat each other faux-enthusiastically on the shoulder. When I inevitably forget, and lean in for the kiss, I am going to end up getting a lot of harassment complaints from Californians.
• There can never be a duplicate of Ricky Viola. Though that’s probably a good thing for concerned parents everywhere, I will miss him, his disturbing personality, and his “that has GOT to be fake” Brooklyn accent.
• I will never again have Dave summon me to his office to debrief me on proper behavioral protocol before my first trip to John’s Deli (“Know exactly what you want when you get in there; don’t react to the vulgar stuff they have playing on the TV in the corner; don’t be offended by the guy they call Pancho…or the other guy they call Pancho; and for the love of God, don’t get out of line!”)
• I will never again be able to listen to the ticket office’s phenomenal ability to argue a topic endlessly (after work hours, Steve), while throwing in references to Ivy League schools, the birth date of America, someone’s sister, and New Hampshire. In one conversation. The View has nothing on John, Pat, Katie, and Adam.
• I will never work with another ticket manager with the same combination of quiet good-naturedness and devastating one-liners as Chris.
• I will never again be able to experience the lunchtime improv that is KJ and Ricky.
• If I ever get into a fight at a bar, my most helpful ally, Elizabeth Lombardi, will be on the other side of the country.
• I will never be able to joke to Nino of Gargiulo’s that I would appreciate a tray of meatballs the next time he came to the stadium, only to have him actually show up at a game with a tray of meatballs for me. As everyone who knows me can tell you, food is the fastest way to my heart, and my love for Nino is now forever.
• I doubt I will find another Lisa Gavaletz among the more relaxed California sports fans…she has cheered us on through thick and thin, sat through 24 Hours of Baseball, and best of all (for me), brought the front office lollipops on the last game of the season. I’ll miss you, Lisa! And thank you Simos Xenakis, for the pastries you dropped off for Pat (which I neglected to tell him about until after I took my share of cream puffs).
• I will never again, on a road trip, be able to listen to Dave ask Kevin Mahoney (a country music fan): “What would you like to listen to? Brooks and Garth? Swift Taylor?” And then see the look on Kevin’s face that makes me a little afraid for Dave’s life.
• The next Gary I work with probably won’t tolerate me calling him “Gare-Bear.”
• The first wave I ever caught surfing was not in CA, but in Long Island (thanks Shawn, for being my teacher and doing all the work for me while I just lay on the board and got a push).
• I’ll never again be able to watch Brian The Intern (BTI) struggle to speak Spanish (inadvertently mixed with French) to a customer at the ticket window, only to see Miguel The Intern (MTI), who is fluent, sitting to the side, leaning back with arms folded and observing in silent, unhelpful amusement. And then have Steve Cohen walk in on the scene and try to come to Brian’s aid by exercising his entire Spanish vocabulary: “Dos! Dos tickets! DONDE ESTA LA BIBLIOTECA?!”
• Speaking of Miguel, I will miss the most powerful marketing tool we have ever placed at our selling window. When girls see him there, they automatically want to buy tickets. When guys see him there, they are automatically intimidated into buying tickets.
• I will never be able to watch a girl from Commack, Long Island (that’s you, Alexa) rap Lil’ Wayne for three minutes straight in the back seat of a van on the way back from Aberdeen.
• Since there is no snow in California, I will never again be able to experience a snowball fight on our field with our front office in the winter.
• The next accounting dept. I encounter will not allow me to steal their chocolate and cookies the way Tatiana and Olena have.
• I will likely never again hear more than ten New Hampshire references a day (Pat and Brandy)…or for that matter, hear a man from New Hampshire rap Lil’ Wayne as well (that’s you, Pat).
• I will never again have a boss like Steve Cohen. No one who will remind his staff on a daily basis that he is a handsome man; who will play third base during a front office vs. interns game while pulling a sandwich out of his pocket; who will take us out to a relaxing, bonding evening in a restaurant and pull out pocket schedules for the hostess; who will ask during a drizzly game over the walkie-talkie, as we’re waiting at the end of the third baseline to pull tarp, “Is it raining in Section 21 yet? Because it’s starting to in Section 5;” or when I hint a month and a half in advance that I might be leaving, immediately comes in and starts taking measurements on my cubicle.

Front office and Brooklyn fans alike, I will miss you dearly. There is no one else like you.

-- Joyce

Brooklyn Bashes Birds in Blowout Bonanza

Apt alliteration aside (help! I can't stop), the Cyclones' front office staff did put on a dominating display against the Aberdeen IronBirds' staff on Tuesday in our annual softball challenge.

Each year, for the past four years (except last year), we have rotated the home field, with each team taking the road trip into enemy territory. We drove to Maryland the first year and lost, then they drove to Brooklyn the next year and lost, then last year, we made the mistake of trying to involve other teams and it never happened. So, this year it was our turn to hit the road. Adding to the excitement, this year we'd be on the big stage, as we were slated to play in an actual stadium, with dugouts, seats, and a press box. It's the jewel of the amateur side of the Ripken complex -- "Cal Sr.'s Yard!"

We loaded up the van and headed for Aberdeen, knowing that the road team had never won in the series (usually because they were literally weighed down by Roy Rogers or Nathan's)...until now.

On Tuesday, we took the all-time series lead by busting out the heavy lumber (actually, lightweighted aluminum) to sweep a doubleheader, winning the first game, 9-3, and the second game, 17-4. And neither game was even as close as the score indicates. In Game One, Aberdeen scored two of their three runs only because Mahoney refused to catch any ball Steve or I threw to him, because we offered to fire him and give his job, office, and company car(s) to a far more attractive IronBirds staff member trade him. In Game Two, we had 37 hits. 37! (And yes, we actually keep score. We're dorks.)

This was truly a total team effort, with big hits, big defensive plays, and a big pitching performance.

Chicks dig the long ball, so we'll start there. Gary put the "round" in round-tripper by blasting three home runs, including a shot to lead off the game that set the tone for the day, and would have made his "refer to myself in the third person" idol proud. For one day, at least, he didn't just look like the Bambino, he hit like him! I later followed with a three-run blast of my own (S.I.S.). Miggy made up for an otherwise hitless day with a mammoth shot off the warehouse (Sr.'s Yard is a replica of Camden Yards), and Big John busted out the rye bread and the mustard when he went Grand Salami in the first inning of Game Two.

"Eagle Eye Viola" morphed into "Ripping Ricky" when he tripled his lifetime hit total in one day by notching seven hits -- including a 5-for-5 performance in Game Two. Chris used his "Nerve Gas" on the mound to paralyze the Aberdeen hitters and hold them to just one earned run all day. Steve was a righthanded Ichiro at the plate, his usual Brooksy self in the field, and terrorized both teams on the bases. Mahoney had five hits of his own in Game Two, and ended the day wanting to fight a guy on the other team, because...the guy ran hard and tried to reach base safely. Adam (ATI) had some clutch hits, and played the outfield one-handed without spilling. Alexa and Brandy added some big hits of their own, gave our lineup some pop all the way through, and shored up the right field defense. Liz kept a meticulous scorecard (allowing for the stats herewith), and Joyce was a passive-aggressive third-base coach, leading to a variety of injuries and hilarity in the 60 feet from the hot corner to home plate (more on this later).

Here's how Damage, Inc.'s performance will be remember by the annals of history:

• Gary: 4-for-10, 3 HR, 5 RBI, one 4.7 Richter Scale landing at home plate.
  
• Steve: 4-for-9, two diving stops, seven defensive gems, one on-purpose error, one ball thrown into the stands because Mahoney wouldn't go to first base.
• Dave: 5-for-9, 1 HR, 3 RBI, two "leaping" catches that totaled 6.1" off the ground, one ridiculously stupid slide that caused the game's only bloodshed (my own).
• Big John: 7-for-9, 1 GSHR, one Web Gem catch to rob a home run in the left field corner, zero fights with random passersby (for once).
• Mahoney: 6-for-9, one hit batsman, one near-fight, one boycott of throws from the left side of the infield.
  
• Miggy: 1-for-9, 1 monster HR (only because ABD plays with a "no strikeout" rule), one missed class, one highway rest-stop stalker, countless broken hearts.
• Alexa: 3-for-9, one at-bat with 15 swings and misses, 12 f-bombs, one sniper shot to the ankle.
• Chris: 3-for-9, 34 smiles, 0 HR allowed, 0.64 ERA, three words spoken.
• Adam: 4-for-9, two failed pick-up lines.
• Ricky: 7-for-9, one collision/tumble/romantic interlude at third base, seven new reasons to protest being slotted at the bottom of the lineup in the future, 74 passed balls during his three innings as catcher.
  
• Brandy: 3-for-9, one generally calming and pleasant personality on a team filled with raving lunatics.

I mentioned some injuries earlier. I slid into home plate when Joyce waved me home, despite me being out by 20 feet (on 60-foot bases). Normally, no big deal. However, Sr.'s Yard apparently hadn't been watered since the season ended, so it was a bit like sliding on concrete. In shorts. I wound up with a massive raspberry on my shin, a slightly smaller one on my knee, and a third on my ankle. I like to think I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but I almost cried and nearly passed out in the shower when the soap and water hit my leg last night, and again this morning. Thanks, coach.

Baby Alexa was also a victim of Joyce's coaching style, when she was waved home, only to be told "Um, wait. Maybe stop." She rolled her ankle in the confusion, and it's now swollen to the size of Rishi's head.

Best of all, though, had to be Miggy, who "fake dove," four or five steps after already catching a fly ball (a la Derek Jeter). Only problem was, he jammed his shoulder, and potentially blew his chances of being drafted, since we all know of at least one scout in attendance who included the boneheaded injury in his post-game report. Plus, Miggy will probably fail whatever class he skipped when his professor reads this blog. (Because everyone reads this blog, Steve. Mwah hah hah hah!)

The ride home was a strange, though victorious, one. Liz "missed" the bridge (It's a giant steel structure connecting two land masses over a body of water. How can you "miss" it?) and took us on a scenic tour of lovely Wilmington, DE. Alexa went all Commack-style on us and gangsta-rapped the lyrics of a Taylor Swift song ("Yo, she wears dem high heels, yo, I wear da sneekaz, she da cheer captain, @#!*%, but I'm on da bleechaz"). Mahoney tried to punch the spider-webbed glass of the back window in the hopes -- yes, the hopes -- that it would shatter and critically sever his jugular. And ATI expounded on his religious upbringing and pop-culture beliefs ("Billy Joel is my favorite Jew...besides Moses").

All in all, it was another legendary outing for the Dream Team. (No, seriously, have you ever seen that movie? Click on the link. Watch the trailer. Tell me we don't have waaaay too much in common with escaped mental patients on a road trip. I think about it every time we're in a van together.)

Two dominating (like Mike Swindell) wins, and one ultra-long blog entry. I call that a success any day. Sure, we're a bunch of weirdos...but we're good at what we do.

-- Dave

The Veekies!

The Cyclones recently received a "Veekie Award" from ESPN The Magazine, in recognition of one of the best promotions of the year -- our Baracklyn Cyclones night!

The Veekies are highlighted on page 30 of the Sept. 21 edition of The Magazine (on stands now...Tim Tebow is on the cover). The award is named after the late Bill Veeck, who is hailed as baseball's ultimate showman (after Steve Cohen, of course).

As you probably remember, the Baracklyn Cyclones night was great fun, a huge success, and drew rave reviews around the world (except from McCain supporters, who didn't get the joke).

Earning the Veekie is a very cool nod to our hard work, and a great honor for us. (Perhaps more importantly, it gave me a legitimate excuse to email Amber/Obama Girl girl again!)

• Check out a PDF of the awards page

The '09 season has only been over for a few days, but we're already brainstorming about some big ideas for next season, too. Hopefully, this is only our first Veekie, and not our last!

-- Dave

The Cyclone of Life

With the conclusion of the season, and the mixed emotions it brings, some of us "veterans" in the office have been talking about the thoughts and feelings that ebb and flow throughout the calendar year -- the Cyclones Cycle, if you will.

We may not hoist baby Alexa in the air like Mufasa each season, but there is a certain Circle of Life among members of the front office that repeats itself year in and year out. Birth. Life. Death. Repeat. OK, maybe it's not quite as dramatic as that Circle, but it's our Circle, so it's important to us. Aaaaand, if it's important to us, it must be important to you (at least, that's the self-absorbed philosophy that keeps the Blog alive).

So, without further ado, I give you (a condensed version of) the front office Circle of Life -- the Cyclone Cycle! (And I'll start with the birth of the new season, in the hopes of beating this analogy as far into the ground as humanly possible.)

There are, of course, unique blips that occur on the radar of each season, but the following are things that you can set your watch to, without fail. The real Groundhog Day elements of the job. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and the Cyclones have this:

Mid-June
Everything's (hopefully) in place. The players have been drafted, the promotional nights have been finalized, ads have been running, tickets have been sold and shipped, Ponte's been mowing the grass for the last 273 consecutive days, and anyone who hasn't quit Vlad's crew has been painting, scrubbing, and generally fixing up the ballpark to get it looking in tip-top shape. Opening Day is upon us. All the time and energy we've spent preparing for the last several months has all been for this. The gates open, the fans file in, the players line the steps to meet them, and a new season is underway.

The staff feels a thrilling sense of anxious excitement, anticipating the craziness to come in the next three months...coupled with a crippling sense of intense dread, fearing the craziness to come in the next three months.

We say goodbye to our friends and family for the summer and say hello to our Cyclones friends and family for the summer. Like many of the emotions involved with the job, it's a mixed bag. That's just the way it is.

Get yourself ready for 15-hour days, tarp pulls, unloading boxes of last-minute promo items, and all the other fun stuff in store. Here we go!

July
With a few games now under our belt, the newbies have been broken in, and everyone's starting to get into their own routines, and into the full swing of the season. Steve has learned at least three players' names (two of whom were on the team last year), and will now spend the next month trying to match up their faces, and complain that it's impossible, because they all look the same -- 6'2" blond kids from Idaho, or wherever.

July brings the Kids Camp (which means Liz will be super-stressed, and Gary will finally get to talk to the players he drafted...and the two of them will come very close to killing each other).

The midway point of the season also means the pennant race is on, between the Cyclones and the Yankees. No offense to the IronBirds and Renegades (or the Crosscutters and Cardinals before them), but this is basically a foregone conclusion. Since the Cyclones entered the league in 2001, no other team besides Brooklyn and Staten Island has worn the McNamara Division crown.

Mid-July is also when we as a staff start to hit that imaginary wall. So much effort and energy goes into kicking off the season, that once that initial high wears off, you look at the remaining games on the schedule and can't believe you're only halfway through it. Halfway? That means that everything you've just done? You have to do it all over again. Your friends are all going on vacations, going to weddings, going to the beach, and like, having lives and stuff. And you hate them for it. That light at the end of the tunnel? It looks like this. At this point you can't wait for the season to be over (but be careful what you wish for...more on this later).

August
August brings the NYPL All-Star game, which serves two purposes for the staff:

1. Provide a break in the action and an opportunity to recharge.
2. ROAD TRIP!

Now, I realize that those two things don't really go hand in hand. You finally get a few days off to get away from baseball and catch up with friends and family, so you...leave your friends and family to travel with colleagues to go watch baseball?

Part of the reasoning behind this is that you have to be a little "touched" to work in baseball. You just have to be. So things that make sense to normal humans don't really apply. Another part of it is that although you spend most of your day with co-workers, players, and coaches, you don't actually get to unwind or really hang out with them in a relaxed setting all that often, so the ASG is a good opportunity to do so. Another part is that the host team usually sets up some cool events -- go-cart racing, pub crawls, brunches with Hall of Famers, freak shows at the aquarium -- and you feel like you deserve to enjoy the fruits of someone else's labor after months of your own hard work. And last, but certainly not least, you know that if you don't go, you'll be ripped mercilessly by everyone that did, both to your face and behind your back.

Anyway, the ASG comes and goes, and there are now about three weeks left to the season. That's it? Man, it went by so quickly! I wish we had more time.

Whaaaaaaaaat? Do you hear yourself? Just a couple of weeks ago, you were comparing the season to Moses' journey through the desert.

I don't know...I told you, there are mixed emotions all over the place, and we're all a little off, anyway. And we're never happy with whatever situation we're in. Don't try to figure it out. It is what it is.

Early September
We're in the home stretch now. The division race is coming down to the wire, the interns are all going back to school, and the video guy has put in his two weeks' notice. (We should, like, download some video clips or something.)

Unfortunately, it's also Labor Day weekend, and school is starting, so our usually vivacious and electric crowds thin out a bit. The beginning of the end.

We make the playoffs (or we don't), travel to one or two more upstate/western NY destinations, and then -- win or lose -- it's over. The team is gone the next day, the circus tent is gone the next day, Coney's neon lights are gone the next day, and it is officially the offseason.

Ugh. And whew! Oh no. And thank goodness. (There are those mixed emotions again.)

Mid-September
The first couple of days & weeks immediately following the season are filled with housekeeping stuff. Writing season recaps (and seemingly endless blog postings about the Cyclones Cycle), running attendance numbers, creating proof-of-performance packets for sponsors, cleaning the stadium, etc.

It's also time to re-introduce ourselves to society, and to the people we love -- Ms. Pac Man, Pac Man, and Junior our families.

Plus, we'll throw in some outdoor activities like softball games against other front offices, baseball games against over-60 leagues, or football in the outfield to make up for lost time in the summer.

Many of us (but probably not enough) will also get back into the gym and try to lose the extra pounds we packed on by eating ballpark food twice a day for 120 days.

October













November - December
Gearing up. That's the catch-all phrase when people ask you what you're up to at work. It can mean anything, and it's used so frequently throughout baseball that no one really makes you go into any more detail.

A typical winter conversation will go something like this:

"Good season for you guys?"
"Yeah, it was. Lots of good stuff to build on."
"New Year just around the corner."
"Yup. Another season."
"You guys getting ready?"
"Gearing up."
"I hear ya."

No further explanation is necessary.

So these are the months for gearing up. Well, that and scouring HotJobs.

December is also the month for the Winter Meetings, baseball's annual trade show/league meeting/job fair/networking extravaganza. For those of us that go, it's the time of year to refocus on new ideas, new giveaway items, new entertainment options, and generally get revitalized about the upcoming season. For those that don't go, it's a nice few days with Steve and Kevin out of the office.

January
Winter break is over, and the calendar has turned to a new year. This is the month that we traditionally announce our new schedule and coaching staff, start selling sponsorship packages & ticket plans, and start brainstorming for the season ahead. After all, it's "right around the corner."

Only. Six. Months. Away.

Now it's like we're coming through that endless tunnel in reverse!

February - March
Spring Training! Baseball is finally in the air again. And although the players who will make up the coming year's roster are mostly still in college at this point, we can watch former Cyclones play with the big boys in the major leagues. Even if it's split-squad games.

April
The MLB season starts, and we can see which of our alumni have made the cut. This is also the start of the really busy couple of months just before our season. The sales teams are beating the pavement. Print and ad deadlines are hurtling towards us, classes are touring the ballpark, high schools and colleges are playing on the field, and the weather is starting -- just starting -- to hint at Spring.

May
Now, the season really is just around the corner. Most of our promotional dates are locked in, we've designed and ordered the giveaway items, and no one can actually believe we're going to do this all over again. Now, if only we knew who was going to be on the team...

Early June
The draft takes place in the second week of the month, and we start playing in the third week, so you can imagine what that last-minute rush is like.

We're also putting the finishing touches on several other last-minute ideas, updates, and adjustments. At this point, we're hip-deep in it, and we're rolling with what we've got.

What comes next? Scroll back to the top and start all over again!

-- Dave

Wes' (Final) Week That Was

23-year old Wes Wrenn was selected by the Mets in the 35th round of the 2009 draft, out of The Citadel, in South Carolina. He makes his home in Greensboro, NC. Wes took his his first professional steps towards his big-league dreams in a professional debut season with the Cyclones. Each week, Wes checked in on the Blog to get readers behind the scenes. The following is his final entry of the summer:

After three months of playing here in Brooklyn, I would have to say that my first year of professional baseball has been all that I expected and then some. The Brooklyn fan support, the Cyclones staff, the golf tournament, the kids camp, the ladies camp, the craziness of Coney Island, the pricey tours of Manhattan, the extensive road trips to places I never thought existed, and being on the number one team in the organization this year! It all has all provided me with more than enough memories and stories to tell. So while we may have fallen a little short in the playoffs, we still had an amazing year, one of the best in franchise history, and I'm proud to have been a part of it.

I would like to say “thank you” to all the fans that supported us through all the ups and downs of this year’s roller-coaster season. We started out unbeatable with a 16-2 record at one point, and then we lost a few players and a few more games to go along with them. But overall, this year was definitely a great success. We made friends that will last a lifetime, we learned some valuable life lessons and baseball knowledge from our experienced coaching staff, and we’ll have stories to talk about for years to come.

I can only hope that next year, wherever I end up, is as exciting as this year.

So long Brooklyn!

-- Wes

All Good Things Must Come to an End

The 2009 Cyclones season has come to its end, unfortunately, but it was another fun-filled chapter in the story of Brooklyn baseball.

We led the league in attendance again (nine years in a row), and qualified for the playoffs again (six times out of nine). Think about that for a second. Think about how impressive either of those feats are on their own...and then think about the fact that we do both almost every year. It's become kind of commonplace, and somewhat expected (some might say to take the "somewhat" out), but every once in a while when I actually stop to think about all the work that goes into both those things, and the support from the fans that makes it all possible, it's pretty unbelievable.

We had some amazing moments both on and off the field this year -- no-hitters, Hall of Famers, Commanders-In-Chief (sort of), All-Stars (of the minor and major league variety), and much, much more. Several of those highlights are recapped here.

And for a give-you-goosebumps end-of-year video that captures even more on camera, check this out:



The summer goes by too fast. It's a pretty intense three months, during which you spend lots of time with people who are all working together (sort of) towards a couple of common goals. And then, like that (a la Keyser Soze), it's gone. Even after nine years of it, that sudden end still takes some getting used to.

This season, though, was an unforgettable one, and we'd like to sincerely thank the fans, coaches, players, staff members, and everyone else (especially the Blog readers) that were a part of it.

Don't worry, you don't have to go 100% cold turkey. We've got some more good stuff in store for you in the coming weeks to ease you out of Cyclones baseball slowly. And we've already got a few tricks up our sleeve for next year, too.

Stay tuned. And thanks again.

-- Dave

Playoffs? Yes, Playoffs!

After 75 regular-season games, the Cyclones went 45-30, won the NYPL Wild Card, and tonight begin the "second season," needing four more wins to become champions of the New York-Penn League.

As any blogger worth their salt knows, when talking about the playoffs, you are contractually obligated to link to this. Done and done. (If there's one thing everyone says about me, it's that I'm worth my salt.) However, you simply can't get to the playoffs without practice...which is why I think this is even funnier.

Anyway, back to the playoffs ("playoffs?" Sorry. Once you get started it's hard to stop). We'll take on the Mahoning Valley Scrappers at home tonight in the first game of a best-of-three series. Games Two and Three (if necessary) will be played at Mahoning Valley on Wednesday and Thursday. (We'll be trying to make Game Three unnecessary by winning the first two. I wasn't in the team meeting, but I'm pretty sure that's the game plan.)

Over in the other Semifinal match-up, Staten Island and Lowell will be slugging it out for the right to face us in the Championship Series. (Or, hypothetically, the Scrappers...but we don't allow negativity to permeate the positive zen of the Blog.)

We're sending our two-headed Ace Monster to the mound in the first two games, with Mark Cohoon (9-2, 2.15) toeing the rubber tonight, and Brandon Moore (he of the no-hitter, and the team-best 2.09 ERA) getting the start tomorrow. So, on paper, our rotation couldn't have lined up any better for us. Now we just have to get it done on the field. And as our 10th man (technically 11th, thanks to the DH, but that doesn't sound as good), you can help out from the stands!

Come on down to Coney Island tonight to cheer on the Cyclones and help us bring another championship to Brooklyn!

See you at the game.

-- Dave

Staff BP

From time to time, a few Cyclones managers have offered to throw the front office staff batting practice (and become staff favorites in the process) -- TJ, Fonzie, and now...Pedro.

Pedro invited us all outside today to embarrass ourselves show off our swings, while hitting coach Jack Voigt looked on (in what had to be agony and disgust).

We all had a great time. Steve and I showcased the left-side infield defense that has people calling us "The Wall" (and by '"people," I mean me and Steve). Speaking of walls (ahem, ahem), I hit a few balls off the big one in left field, but couldn't quite find the pop to put one out. Alexa jumped in the cage in jeans and a polo, smoked a few line drives, and then disappeared back inside. Miggy had a hard time shaking off his late-night salsa-dancing rust and never quite got in the groove. (Hitting, that is. Apparently, his dancing groove was working just fine.) Gary stepped to the plate to his very own theme song after earlier receiving a brand-new nickname. Nicole made her mark as the only Beach Bum willing to wake up before 1pm take a shot at the whole "baseball" thing (and she was pretty good for someone who had to be taught how to put on a glove)! Liz used her unusual combination Jeff Bagwell/Phil Plantier stance. Andrew took off his Rolex in the middle of his round (not sure it helped). Joyce ogled from the stands.

All in all, it was a good day.

Many thanks again to Pedro and Jack for giving us the chance to get out of our offices and get on the field! We truly appreciate it.

-- Dave

Stayin' Alive

We're already in the playoffs, so whether or not we win the division isn't really all that important...but you have to admit, it'd be nice.

We lost tonight, but so did Staten Island, which means we're still 1.5 games back with two games left to play.

Call me Lloyd, but I'm still hanging onto hope.



See you at the ballpark on Saturday!

-- Dave

Down the Stretch We Come

The last three games of the season are upon us, and the Cyclones are locked into a playoff berth, but still battling for the division title. We've played about .500 ball over the last two weeks, but Staten Island has rattled off 13 wins in a row. So...these last three games will be interesting. We need some wins, and we'll be doing some scoreboard watching.

Making things even MORE interesting, we've got a superstar centerfielder playing for us these days -- Carlos Beltran!

Beltran is rehabbing with us on his way back to the majors, after being sidelined since June 22nd. It's always exciting to see star big leaguers like Beltran, Wright, LoDuca, Floyd, etc. take the field wearing the Brooklyn uniform.

Beltran is in the lineup again tonight, and may be with us throughout the weekend.

With the playoffs on the horizon next week, this Labor Day weekend should be a good one at the ballpark, filled with a pennant race, star sightings, fireworks, giveaways, and more.

-- Dave

Quantum Physics and Miracles

Kevin Jimenez is the Cyclones' Graphics Manager...and resident germaphobe. Today, he updates us on an earlier post:

Чудо... Miracolo... Wunder....奇迹 .

There are many ways to say "miracle" in many languages. “The miracle of life” is a phrase I’ve heard from time to time. Life across the Universe? I don’t think we’re alone. Its been said that the Universe has no edge - that when you reach the end, you are at the beginning again. My fiancée's godfather was one of the astronauts to fix the Hubble telescope earlier this year. He’s seen these maravillas firsthand. I envy him.

But I digress.

When I made my initial soap-related blog entry, I spoke of the continued malfeasance in our restrooms. The lengths my co-workers and I have to endure just to keep ourselves from spreading the Black Death (which still exists, by the way) to each other. Those who have read that entry have made strides to help us, your favorite front office people, in the effort to keep our lungs free and our eyes bright and clear. One fan brought me a canister of liquid soap – and I think she started a movement to sell soap bonds to raise additional refills! Nonetheless, that dispenser kept us clean for an additional two weeks (not a lot of tarp pulling during that time), but the war rages on, and we continue to fight the good fight. Maybe the Obama Administration should reinstitute the Works Progress Administration – great design work I’d love to be a part of.

Yesterday, I found that edge and saw the beginning of the Universe. Well, not exactly like that – but the discovery of something just as outstanding. Something just as spellbinding. Something... just as elegant. Jump on the Vengabus, folks – it’s time to party!

Metaphorical, existential, call it what you will – I have witnessed history. Someone -- or something -- silently and effectively installed an actual mounted soad dispenser on the wall of the bathroom! It can be refilled! It can't be stolen! Oh, happy day!

This simple device, this friend to hygiene and humanity alike, has found a new home in the front office. As with the rest of the Universe, even the most incomprehensible actions can be solved with a simple solution. Einstein loved sweatshirts – they were comfortable and made life easier. He also didn’t know his home phone number, because “Who’s there to answer it?” Well – maybe he should have, since Marilyn Monroe found him sexy and probably would have called him. I’d be happy with Joan Holloway from Mad Men (AWESOME show...“Marilyn is a Joan” - Paul Kinsey).

I digress again.

Oddly enough, our castile cad ceased and desisted after my exposé. It evoked a positive response that was twofold. Now, keeping up with the refills – that’s another story.

Yes, the Universe. Its a very big and scary place. It poses for great pictures though. Godfather Mike knows this. The Universe may have no end, but our restrooms have foaming soap dispensers. And although 99.99% of us will never visit outer space...the same percentage of bacteria will be washed away from my hands. What a Чудо... Miracolo... Wunder....奇迹. Miracle.

Staying cleaner,

-- KJ