On "Taking the Fun Away."

"Deal with it."

"Oh, it was only a joke."

"You just want to take all the fun away."

-responses to a request to tone down the misogyny

I am tired of it being assumed that I am "taking things too seriously" and that I "have no sense of humor" when I fail to be amused, and am indeed insulted by the constant objectification and degradation of women on a great number of sports websites.

This post has been a long time in the making. When I started this blog, I never thought I'd be making any kind of "feminist" statement, until I did, in defense of Sloane Martin (defense? statement of solidarity? personal hashing out of feelings?) A lot of what I said then is still true now. A few important things are not.

I have long prided myself on having a particularly "thick" internet skin. I may rant about my frustrations with the general population of these electrons in private, but until recently I accepted that if I wanted to talk about sports with sports-intelligent people, I'd have to just deal, I'd have to just accept the constant belittling of my gender, the ever-present deluge of judgements and assumptions.

I grew more and more uncomfortable with both the unthinking behavior I was surrounded by, and the outraged response by some when asked to, for instance, stop posting nearly-nude images of women as "rally images" (and those images were then ranked and stripped of all humanity by the hordes, who reduced women down to "would/would not.")

The final straw on the proverbial camel's back came just the other day-after seeing the opinion of their female fans held by one baseball club, a friend of mine was insulted and then mocked when she asked that members of a website behave themselves a little more like human beings.

Silence, in many cases, is implied agreement. I cannot let myself be silent anymore.

Any Expectations

Writing about the minor leagues, for me, takes a blend of unimpeded optimism tempered like eggs with the bitter honesty of realism.

Take, for example, a 23 year old second baseman who (as of this second) has one more home run than year on this earth. He's walking 11.9% of the time, and striking out 22.1%, the latter of which is not insignificant, but appears much nicer when placed next to the K% (30%!) of his teammates. He has moderately decent defense at second base. The 24 homers and .254 BA look okay, and promotable, and even supportable, except that these numbers are coming out of class-A Hickory.

Rambling On.

This past week, I've been struggling with a pretty serious case of writer's block. None of my loosely thrown together processes have worked, at all, and I end up staring at the same sentence over and over, before wearily hitting delete, again.

The Narrative

It's no secret that I have an affection for what some would call unconventional pitching. Sidearmers, submariners, guys that somehow throw 95 when they look like they're pushing the ball out of their hand, all these guys have a permanent spot in my baseball-loving heart.

The writer that I am loves them because of the narrative. A lot of these guys aren't prospects at any time in their career, for various reasons, many of them starting with the letter "v" and ending "elocity," and I root for the underdog. I want them to pitch in a three-tiered stadium at least once, and I want them to get guys out when the conventional wisdom says they can't, and of most importance to a writer, I want them to continue to give me a narrative.

Bits (1)

-My brain is too scattered and shaky to actually create a full post around one topic. Hence, bits.

-I don't recall deliberately watching a single of second of hockey before the belated start of this last season. I'd always been a baseball fan, and college football and basketball snuck up on me the way that winning seasons tend to do, but hockey? The Stars, Dallas' local team, were last relevant (to my knowledge) when I was 8, and though Modano, the name, has a sticking place in my sports memory, I'd never really thought that I would find myself ever watching overtime hockey hoping neither team would score. Now? Overtime for the third straight game would just be awesome.

Single-Tiered Stadiums and Three-Legged Races

Half-way through the second inning of what would turn out to be a wholly unexceptional game for the big league club a few days ago, I came to a realization. Not a completely unsurprising realization, but a defining one nevertheless.

My name is Kate Morrison, and I'm a minor league addict.