Baseballminutia

As the 4th ball cleared the wall Reds announcer Chris Welsh told fellow announcer George Grande that the home run barrage was the sort of thing in one inning that would not have happened back in the old days, the pitcher would nail someone claimed Welsh… someone would have to pay.

That of course was in reference to Brandon Claussen and the current beating he was taking. Four homeruns allowed in one inning, an insult that only Jose Acevado, Jeff Austin (2004 and 2003) and Mario Soto (1986) had suffered through whilst wearing the Reds uniform.

By the time relief pitcher, Chris Hammond gave up the fifth home run, of the inning (one that cleared the right field wall) History was made and the Reds joined the 1966 Twins, 1949 Phillies and two of their own teams from their long past as the butt end of a bad trivia question.

What team gave up the most Home Runs in an inning?

Chances are you’ll know the answer now.

Chris Welsh should.

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scrap·py  (skrp)
adj. scrap·pi·er, scrap·pi·est
1. Quarrelsome; contentious.
2. Full of fighting spirit.  

One of the most long running love affairs in Baseball is the love usually showered on the “Scrappy” player. We all know who they are, where they come from (usually nowhere) and what they do to get our attention (chances are it involves speed or hustle). Currently pushing the envelope of scrappy is the Reds own Ryan Freel.

Most of these players tend to be on the small side, that in itself lends a me against the rest of the world air to their approach to the game, and since most fans aren’t players they appreciate this effort to the point of unending adoration or the assumption that every player despite their skill level, age or health should attempt to play like the “scrappy” guy does. Scrappy players often are tagged with nicknames that exemplify their playing style.

Chances are the scrappy player will be loved everywhere, more likely he will be adored in the areas of the country that cling to old school values and the hard back of the working man… or at least the myth of his continued existence.

Of course that pretty much pigeon holes the Mid-West as an area that welcomes the scrappy players to their fold with open arms and hearty pats on the back, and nowhere does this seem to happen more than in Cincinnati.

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