The Curse of Stein and Scarpa

Hello All,

Let me preface this by saying I though of it in a bar last night. Alone. Not drunk, just alone with my black coffee.

I feel terrible. Honest to goodness, I feel like I have just ruined someone else's life, and I did it unwillingly and unknowingly.

To make it worse, I not only ruined one person's life, but I am afraid I might have ruined an entire fan base's.

First, a little background.

Every year my friend Scarpa and I attend as many UM Baseball games as we can. It is a little harder now that we have graduated, but we have been talking about trying to get down there for one of the big weekend series.

Anyway, to say that we love that program is an understatement. I always have been and always will be a football guy first, but UM baseball is a VERY close second in my heart. Ever since my family went to see the 2001 team (eventual national champions, maybe the best college team ever assembled) play in a tournament in Minneapolis and the players took us under their wings for a few days (batboys, team gear, autographs, hanging out in the team hotel lobby, playing

video games with players, etc.) I have been hooked.

Well, Scarpa and I started a tradition when we were freshmen. We decided that we were going to pick out an under the radar freshman to root on. He was going to be "our guy". We knew that his contributions would probably be fairly minimal, but if he did succeed we were in on the ground floor. It's like taking a risk on a penny stock. Or dating Kate Beckinsale

while she had braces and acne, before she turned in to the Secretary of Taste. And yet, I digress.

Our first year we picked a little known reserve outfielder names Nick Freitas (we were going to pick a guy named Chris Gawenda, a buddy of mine from class, but we decided that the chances of him unseating fellow freshman Yonder Alonso were somewhere between slim and none...on this we were correct).

His stat line for the season looked something like this:

.077 Batting Average, 1 start, 0 RBI, 0 HR, banged the girl I had a huge crush on.

Thing didn't get much better for Nick after that. His high point was 4 HR in Fall Practice before his Sophomore year, but then he turned back in to the same old Nick. He appeared in 33 games for a terrible team before transferring to Southern Utah, where he actually became a star (albeit, at a terrible baseball school).

And with that, Scarpa and I were 0-1.

Our sophomore year we took a flyer on another outfielder, this time names Kevin Diego:

Well, I couldn't find any stats for that season online, but I vaguely recall him becoming the temporary starting left fielder on a terrible team (making Scarpa and I look like geniuses) before hitting something like .150 for the rest of the season and then summarily quitting the sport afterward (making us look like assholes).

0-2.

Our junior year we went with a guy named Jon Weislow. Jon was a guy I had a few classes with. Real nice guy (although not the brightest) and to make things better, he was dating a friend of mine that lived in the apartment downstairs.

Weislow was touted as the fastest player on the team. He was built like a brick shithouse. We figured he was a lock to break our funk. He also was a sophomore, but we counted him because he had transferred in.

Jon then "Totaled five hits in 24 at-bats with five runs and five RBI" according to the Miami SID site. Again, we had struck out.

The reason I tell you all this is to tell you the following.

As seniors, Scarpa and I picked a fourth outfielder (you know, for consistency's sake) names Ted Blackman.

Teddy didn't get much playing time early on, but eventually became a regular in the lineup.

Teddy made 36 starts and .273 with 13 RBI and 21 runs, primarily hitting in the No. 2 hole. He also lead the team with a .391 batting average in the postseason. The team underachieved, but Teddy was a solid contributor who single handedly turned the Curse of Stein and Scarpa around.

Or so we thought.

Teddy was supposed to be a big time contributor this season. Instead, on Thursday, I read that Teddy had transferred to a Junior College in order to expedite his transfer to...Florida State. The most hated rival of all. Home of Mike Martin, Lord of No Rings. Home of the most racist, redneck baseball fans in the world.

I feel like Richard Alpert did the second he realized that Locke was really the Smoke Monster. I'm shocked, I am angry, but really, I am more afraid.

What kind of unknown forces do Scarpa and I possess?

First, we have the unique ability to guarantee a player will be nothing but unproductive for three years by jokingly claiming them as our favorite (let's be real, my favorites for those three teams were, in order: Jon Jay, Yonder Alonso and Yonder Alonso).

Then, we finally reverse our fortune and see one of our hatchlings succeed when everyone around him wasn't...only to transfer to our arch-rival (where he will probably take over for Mike McGee in left field a year from now...Mikey McGee is personal favorite of Stein and Scarpa, but that's a different story).

I suddenly am beginning to feel like I feel when watching LOST.

Everytime I think I have an answer, five more questions are revealed. Every time I think that I have it all figured out, the carpet gets pulled from under me.

Why do my players consistently fail? Why, when they succeed, do they only do so to disappoint me later on? Should I pick another player this year? Is it wrong of me to do this? AND WHO THE F*CK IS IN JOHN LOCKE'S BODY?!?!?!?!?!

Anyway, maybe I am taking all this a little seriously. Scarpa and I plan on pulling up the rosters and going through each newcomer, one by one, in the next couple of weeks to emerge with out guy. We will press on, because that is what we do. It's tradition, a tradition beginning to join "RAAAAAAGGGGGGAAAAARRRRRMMMMMMMMM" and "BAAAAALLLLLLLLLL 2...WHOOOOO!" and "The Grand Illusion" in Miami lore. OK, not even close, but it is part of what makes going to games to sit on concrete slabs or in rotted wooden bleachers in the left field corner (and sneaking in a backpack of beer) so much fun, so much better than going to Miami football or basketball games.

I guess the point is that with a new season comes new hope, but should also bring with it a warning.

I apologize ahead of time to whichever newcomer Scarpa and I choose. You are starting off behind the 8 Ball.

And Teddy, it was fun. You brought me a little bit of added joy during a season I enjoyed the hell out of. But as we know from LOST, everything comes full circle. We will meet down the road. And while you will always have a place in our hearts, you have now become the enemy. See you in anotha life, brotha.