baseball's plan to cause me angst

According to an article in USA Today, Major League Baseball is considering having an abbreviated season using a modified league and division alignment. This isn't the place to go into great detail, but at a high level:

• Teams would play their home games at their spring training sites, which are all in Arizona and Florida.
• The MLB would be split into two leagues, based on spring training sites and nomenclature. That actually works nicely, since Florida and Arizona each hosts fifteen teams.
• Each of these leagues would be split into three divisions.
• The leagues would play an abbreviated schedule, with the champions facing off in a world series in November.
• All games would be played without a live audience.

I'm not going to pretend to have a clue as to whether the plan is feasible or makes economic sense. I don't know any of the details of the television contracts or player contracts, so I don't know who is out how much money if the season doesn't happen, or whose losses are mitigated if an abbreviated season occurs. Clearly, though, money is a major motivator. Relatedly, MLB wants to stay relevant. I also have to wonder about the health issues. Even without a crowd in the stands I don't see how they can play a baseball game while social distancing. But all that's for them to figure out.

I don't really care much as a fan. I don't follow baseball. I used to. But I stopped when they had the strike in 1994. Except for the various stoopidstats I like to look at at the end of the season.

My concern is how this affects my stoopidstats. As an ongoing stoopidstats project, I keep track of the cumulative wins and losses of all franchises in major league history. I also like to group them by nickname, location, and state (or state-like entity*). After the 2019 season, I updated the statistics and blogged about it here. If MLB goes ahead with its plan, I will have some decisions to make. For the sake of this discussion, I'll reference the Phillies, though it applies to 27** of the 30 teams.

According to the plan, the Phillies would be playing their home games in Clearwater, Florida. For grouping wins by franchise, by nickname or location there's no issue. I take location as indicated in the team's name. They are the "Philadelphia Phillies," so their location is indicated as Philadelphia. For the record, the Brooklyn Dodgers are included as "Brooklyn" rather than "New York."

But what about state or state-like entity? Should that be informed by what state the team, plays in? Or what state the location indicated by their name is located in. In the case of the Phillies, would their wins be credited to Florida (since they'd be playing their home games in Florida) or Pennsylvania because they are still called the "Philadelphia Phillies" and Philadelphia is in Pennsylvania?

This is actually related to an issue I have thought about without coming to a conclusion. Look at Football. The New York Giants and New York Jets play their home games in New Jersey, even though their name indicates a city in New York State. If the Yankees (or Mets were to move to New Jersey but retain the "New York" in their name, would I start crediting their wins to New Jersey or New York?

And let's not even think about what to do if the Boston Red Sox start following the example of football's Patriots and start calling themselves "New England."

*The state-like entities are states, Canadian provinces and the District of Columbia. To date, there have been MLB franchises in 25 states, two provinces and DC.
**The issue, as described, is not a concern with respect to the three teams that already play their home games in ARizona and Florida.

floral friday - creeping phlox

To a lot of people, creeping phlox isn't particularly impressive. It's a low-lying ground cover that spends most of the season in its post-bloom green stage.

But I like it. When it's in bloom, there's something really special about the sight of the blues, pinks, whites and purples. And it's great for preventing soil erosion on hills. I especially like the way we have places in our yard where it kind of pillows out between rocks. In one particular spot (not pictured here) it encroaches on the sidewalk, reminding me of slow flowing lava.

thursday nights in new york -- the warriors

Continuing the theme of saluting movies set in America's pendemicular epicenter...

Tonight's offering: The Warriors (1979)

Attending a summit of the city's gangs, the Warriors are framed for murder. Now they have to make their way from the Bronx back to Coney Island with every other gang (not to mention the police) gunning for them.

There's a certain silliness to this film, what with all the themes. There's a gang of mimes, a gang on roller skates, a gang who wear baseball uniforms and use bats as their weapons. But it's also thrilling and suspenseful. In a goofy sort of way.

it's zmedsday!! (lxvii)

life during strangetime

The contrasts of life right now feel like an insane collision joy and pain. Living in gratitude and love with my husband has been rejuvenating to my soul and spirit, as well as healing to my body. At the same time, the hourly obituaries of loved ones is devastating beyond belief, creating an emotional wave of debilitating weakness. Balance is impossible to attain, and the rollercoaster ride of current daily life is fucking exhausting.

And somehow, we carry on. We must. Sending love and healing prayers to anyone kind enough to read these words. We will find the energy to smile and laugh tomorrow. Again, we must.

-- Larry Flick

Living in New York, the American epicenter of the Coronavirus epidemic, I find that the strangest thing is the split personality of the emergency.

In some ways there's a real sense of urgency. I know a lot of people who contracted COVID-19, and a few who have died from it. I know some people, including family, who are immunocompromised and I particularly worry about them. If I think about it too much, I get numb and need to joke to distract myself. We avoid going anywhere, though there are occasional trips -- mostly to the supermarket or the drugstore. And when we do go out, we're sure to have masks and gloves. I have heard that Elmhurst Hospital has been overwhelmed. And I have heard stories of the city buying large numbers of body bags, of potential shortages of ventilators, and of medical personnel having to decide who gets life saving care and who doesn't. These stories are anecdotal, so it's unclear what's really going on. And that is scary. Any time I cough, I grab for a bottle of essential oil or bleach or something, anything, with a strong scent to reassure myself that I still have my sense of smell.

On the other hand, there are some ways that things seem oddly casual. Since we live in a relatively suburban part of New York, I can look out the window and things look normal. Blair was in our yard the other day and saw a neighbor washing his car. His kids were with him and they were all having fun. He told her (yes, they were at a respectable distance) that he tested positive and he's in quarantine. But it's not a big deal. Lots of folks in the neighborhood have it, he told her.

Somewhere between the extremes of hair-raising panic and shoulder-shrugging casualness is the reality of our occasional trips out. We need groceries, and so we go to the Supermarket. Sometimes we need some individual item, and go to the drug store or even a bakery. Sharon and I used to go out to breakfast every Saturday for some much-needed father-daughter bonding. We can't eat at restaurants anymore, but we can get take-out and then sit at home watching a movie on Netflix. And on these trips we make sure to wear masks and gloves when we leave the car, and it feels as if we're in a zombie movie, trying to keep a reasonable distance from strangers, and always being on the lookout -- though I'm not sure exactly what we're looking out for. We sometimes have to wait in line before entering a store because they are limiting the number of customers that can be inside at once. And on line for the cashier we have to stay away from the people in front of us in line. Far enough away that it would look comical in normal times. Still and all, Sharon and I manage to have our weekly breakfast together. And we can mostly get whatever groceries we want. And we can get our cat the medicine he needs. And I had no trouble (OK, a little trouble) getting a black and white cookie for Frank Gorshin's birthday. All of those things are luxuries that many people in the world don't have even in the best of times.

Until last summer I worked at home part time. It was a luxury. I did it for ten years before my company decided that too much collaboration and camaraderie was lost when too many people work from home on a regular basis. As of last summer we ended the work-from-home arrangements and all came back to the office. So now we're back at home. All of us. Full time. Until further notice. But this isn't a luxury. This feels like exile. Still, I have to remember that I'm fortunate. I know many people who can't work from home. Some of them are deemed essential and need to go to work and face the public. Others have lost employment. And I have friends who rely on gigs. They get paid for public speaking -- a market which has dried up. So, for now I'm fortunate that my paycheck hasn't been affected. Yet. There are no guarantees that that will last.

And when the home feels like a prison, I have to remember that the cage is gilded. I am sitting here on a computer writing a blogpost as a recreational activity. I can watch videos. I can listen to music. I can read books and do puzzles. I can go out in my garden and enjoy the flowers that are coming up. And I am sharing this prison with my wife and children -- the most important people in my life. And, as far as we can tell, we're still all healthy.

Knock on wood, and stay safe and well.