The Curse Strikes Again

Hello All,

Again we find ourselves in the middle of February and it is time, once more, for Miami Hurricanes baseball.

For many, it is a side distraction that takes up a few months while football lies dormant.

For me, the Baseball Hurricanes are the only team that rivals my love for the Evil Empire.

Opening night is this Friday night, and I will be in attendance.

I love baseball games at The Light more than anything in the world.

Milkshakes.

Awful concrete slabs that have, I must admit, killed feeling in much of my ass.

RAAAGGGGGGGGAAAAAARRRMMMMMMM.

The ping of metal bats, one of my favorite sounds in the world.

Duke the soda guy.

Ushers who have made it their sole purpose in life to torment students who don’t look like they bought chairback seats. Unless they have boobs, in which case they have priority over everyone, including the people who actually bought the seats (I’m not bitter).

Sitting down the left field line, yelling at Mike McGee ( he STILL is at FSU…guy is like herpes) as he smashes his 14549843518648th career homer against the ‘Canes…and all the while spitting sunflower seeds and nearly getting in fights with FSU fans over…really….nothing.

Walk off home runs into the parking garage.

Titanic for pulled pork and IPAs before the game and Friday’s to rub Jason Hagerty’s swag in Scarpa’s face after.



Little leaguers standing for the Anthem with the players.



The between innings hamburger race.



Jay-Ro on the mic.

Baaaaaaaaallllllllll twwwwoooooooo, WHOOO!

And, of course, the most sacred of all traditions, Scarpa and I picking “our guy” before opening night every year.

You see, my friend Scarpa and I went to at least 100 ‘Canes games together over the years.

He was there with me when we were down 12-0 to Clemson….before we recorded an out.

He was there with me when Dick O’Brien was our primary catcher.

We watched two teams that qualified for Omaha and got the aforementioned McGee to turn his attention away from the game long enough to answer the age old question: “Anniston or Cox”.

We also are men of the people. We love the underdog. As such, we have a keen eye for picking the guy on the roster each season who is going to be ours. We pick the guy who flies under the radar that we think is going to break out in a large way. Sort of like getting in on Microsoft in the 80s.

So far, we’ve failed more than we have succeeded. Here is a quick recap:

2006: Nick Freitas

The Flyin’ Hawaiian was supposed to be the most physically talented kid on the team. He had a laser rocket arm, was built like a racehorse and was faster than a Cheetah fart. Here was his stat line freshman year: .077 batting average, 1 start, 1 RBI, 0 impact. And now for the icing on the cake: he banged the girl I had a huge crush on. Nick ended up transferring to Southern Idaho (or something weird like that). Wasn't upset to see him go...although he will always be our first.

2007: Kevin Diego

Diego actually ended up winning a temporary starting job on one of the worst Miami teams I have ever or will ever see. He didn’t do much with it. He then quit baseball after the season ended. 0-2. Starting to notice a trend…

2008: Jon Weislow

Nice guy I had some classes with. Hot girlfriend who was also cool. Very similar to Freitas in skill set. Was a transfer, so we thought his experience would help him carve out a niche. Season stat line: 5-24, 5 runs, 5 RBI. He had a bit of a breakout the next season, meaning he had a big series against UiF, but disappeared like a ship into the night as the season went on. Sigh.

2009: Teddy Blackman

This is when we thought it was all over. Blackman became a starter about midway through and actually was installed as the No. 2 hitter for the rest of the season.

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.

Then he transferred to FSU.

I thought this was as bad as it could get. 2010: Frankie Ratcliff

The undersized pit bull from Key West became an instant contributor as the leadoff man and second baseman, although I can’t find stats. Miami seems to have erased them from the internet. More on that in a second.

Frankie, who we loved because of his intensity, got busted for selling pot in Septemeber. {Dan starts making excuses} Ok, whatever, stupid decision but nothing a few gassers won’t solve...

And then the search of his apartment turned up a crap load of steroids. Yes. A crap load.

{He got busted again for pot once he was kicked off the team, but hey, who's counting?}

You broke my heart Frankie, you broke my heart.

In the annals of picking “our guy”, this was the first time I ever felt betrayed. I feel like Frankie deserves to be taken fishing on Lake Tahoe by Scarpa and our buddy Frankie Carbone. Seriously. It’s a little messed up to be honest.

And that’s where we are at.

I had a legitimate debate about whether we should keep this going for the coming season.

Then, I decided, we had to. Because just like at Mark Light, hope springs eternal. We got beat by UiF in to end our season the last two years. And you know what? Ragarm will still be there Friday night, as begrudging with his praise as ever. So will Duke. And the milkshakes. And the ushers. And those concrete slabs. And me.

Because that is what we do. It is not the greatest stadium, but God damn it, it is our stadium And I would not have it any other way, wins and losses be damned.

Good luck Chantz Mack, you’re gonna need it.

Always guard the inbound passer, and give 'em hell on Friday night 'Canes!