Pete Rose

USA Today has a story today on Pete Rose, and whether the numbers say he should be in the Hall of Fame (aka setting betting aside).

The story acknowledges his status as Major League Baseball's all-time leader in hits (4,256 vs. Ty Cobb's 4,189 - or perhaps 4,191), as well as his well-earned Charlie Hustle persona. But aside from that, the nonbylined piece is largely a side-by-side of baseball's all-time greats and Rose, with the shadow falling on the banned man and the light bright on MLB's stars and workaday players who could be conceived to outshine the Man Who Bet On Baseball.

Don't get me wrong: I view his as the ultimate sin in his sport, and I wouldn't say he belongs in the Hall. But you know, you can't win me on numbers when you forget - as USA Today did - to include that in addition to being the all-time hits leader, Rose was No. 2 in doubles, behind only Tris Speaker.

Maybe you haven't heard of Tris Speaker, inarguably one of the top hitters of all time. Besides being the all-time doubles king, Speaker is fourth in lifetime batting average, fifth in hits and sixth in triples. But hey, that's just one stat.

The thing is, you can tell a lot of stories with stats. True in life, true in baseball. But I don't think it's fair to tell a story and drop obvious important numbers, especially when the story is controversial (like Rose) and when you're trying to prove a point with numbers.

Semi-OK cover w/ hilarious comment

Best comment at this guy's youtube post:

"you look like a bank robber, and you sing like a monkey! other than that great work!"

Me according to Bob

I find I do a lot more Facebooking these days than blogging, which is kind of lame, I know. Anyway, here's a meme I did the other day at the behest of a dear friend:

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "my life according to (band name)".

Pick your Artist:
Bob Dylan

Are you a male or female:
"ballad of a thin man"

Describe yourself:
"like a rolling stone"

How do you feel:
"hurricane"

Describe where you currently live:
"blowin' in the wind"

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
"mozambique"

Your favorite form of transportation:
"idiot wind"

Your best friend is:
"just like a woman"

You and your best friends are:
"lily, rosemary and the jack of hearts"

What's the weather like:
"a hard rain's a gonna fall"

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
"simple twist of fate"

What is life to you:
"one more cup of coffee"

Your last relationship:
"tears of rage"

Your fear:
"you're gonna make me lonesome when you go"

What is the best advice you have to give:
"lay down your weary tune"

Thought for the Day:
"lay, lady, lay"

My soul's present condition:
"romance in durango"

My motto:
"the times they are a-changin'"

Observation on narcotics

I can't say I'm a big fan of narcotics, particularly the vicodin, percocet, darvocet, oxycodone, oxycontin set.

I'm sure that for some people, they are a godsend, but I've also seen a fair amount of evidence to suggest that maybe, oh maybe, they're not all they're cracked up to be.

For me, they don't make a dent. If I need a painkiller, I'm better off with an Aleve, or an aspirin, or a cup of coffee or glass of whisky for that matter.

And I know a bunch of other people for whom the pills don't kill the pain, or if they do also have a host of nasty side effects.

It makes me think of anesthesia: Something that's a good tool but nobody knows why it works. I heard a doctor recently saying he thought the painkillers don't actually "kill" the pain, but just give your mind something else to occupy it.

Of course, to be fair the medical sciences haven't had many years since coming out of the Dark Ages (i.e. pre-1900 or so), so there should still be a lot of mysteries.

Maybe that's why I find the field appealing: I like undiscovered country.

Funniest part of Gran Torino?

I think it might be the bit where the son and daughter-in-law bring over the large-number phone, cake and little gopher grabber gizmo (it makes things easier!) to try to pitch Mr. Kowalski's moving into a retirement home and, um, selling the house.

I don't think he actually says anything during the whole visit except growly grumbles.

Cracks me up!

Best I can do for a post just now, I suppose.