I haven't bought a glove/mitt, or even surveyed the aisles at a sporting goods store in about twenty years, so I don't even know if gloves still have stamped "signatures" on them, much less if any relatively no-name players have a chance of landing on one, but reading the 'random Giant and first concert' diary got me chuckling over a couple of names, one of which I actually had on a catcher's mitt when I was a kid (Dick Dietz). I also had a John Orsino--nabbed from an older cousin's closet in the mid-70s--and a kid on my Little League team had a glove that looked like it could have been worm by Rabbit Maranville with the signature of someone named Mike de la Hoz on it, whom I looked up in the baseball encyclopedia and discovered he had a cup of coffee in the majors around the dead ball era. Anyone else out there in the McCoven ever come across a really (or at least relatively) obscure signature on a baseball glove?

More vet savvy off the shelf. I wouldn't have bothered posting such mundane news if I hadn't heard that he was apparently receiving "interest" from the Giants. Who knows if the rumors were true, but I'm starting to be more convinced that the commitment to a non-AARP roster is legitimate. Can I get an amen? Much rejoicing? A deep exhale?

The "Adopt a Giant" program got off to such a rousing start, what with all the jockeying for players, but has since become nothing more than a feature of many of our signatures. I recall the idea was to be the first line of defense for our adoptees, to take the heat for them and defend them or scold them or abuse them (in a funny way, of course). And while I should be relieved about this apparent fade, given that my boy Kevin has developed a habit of giving up vomit-inducing dingers late in games, it seems like a premise worth investing in still. Most of us probably can't recall who adopted whom, so maybe the razzing part just collapsed due to logistics, so...

I thought with the All-Star Break coming up, we could instead write letters to our sons, sort of a midseason progress report, in which we tell them what we appreciate about them, how they have gravely disappointed us, and what we expect in the second half of the season. Perhaps another letter would be appropriate for the end of the year as well (depending on how this proposal is received).

I'm still in the process of gathering my thoughts on my Correia, and will naturally post my letter upon completion, but in the meantime get yours up here. This team needs some tricky combination of tough love and encouragement. Nobody said being a parent was going to be easy.

ESPN/ABC conducted a poll which reveals how starkly people's opinions on Bonds fall along racial divides. For most of us, this could probably be filed under "no kidding"; but the extreme nature of the results are rather interesting. Here is the link:

Click here

One thing that is not mentioned in the article, but was brought up this morning in an "Outside the Lines" feature which focused on the poll, is that back when Aaron was chasing Ruth, apparently about 75% of Americans were rooting for Aaron. So beyond race, there is definitely a personality issue at play as well (again, file that under "no shit", but to actually quantify a perception/assumption can be an intriguing exercise). Any thoughts on the data? (sample size, locale of respondants, and other issues which always come into play when conducting a poll). And, of course, any analysis of your own?

I never really thought of Gary Thorne as anything other than a pretty solid announcer--sort of a younger Dick Stockton or Verne Lundquist (nice sounding pipes, not much to say)--but he may have just become one of the all-time greats...or ruined his career, if it just turns out to be Gary trying to not be Gary. Check it out:

Click here

And here I always thought that the blood was from the ears of someone listening to "Schill" being interviewed. Interesting to note the over-the-top reactions from Mirabelli and Francona. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, as I so very much want this to be true. I mean, even if the blood was real, he couldn't change his sock at some point? Ah, but that's showbiz. Perhaps they'll yank it from the Hall of Fame and run a DNA test on it. Whatever the case may be, never did a player have a more appropriate last name (schilling that is, not thorne...though he is certainly living up to his all of a sudden as well).

In the spirit of this week's rash conclusions on how the entire season is going to play out based on the performances of the last 48 hours, there's an interesting game on tonight in Milwaukee, as two potential members of this year's Giants rotation are squaring off. I'm just south of the Monterey County line in SLO County, and am therefore relegated to Dodger telecasts, which isn't so bad on a night like tonight. Through four innings, Schmidt has hit 90 on the gun two times, with all other fastballs being in the mid-80s/Zito range. And while his offspeed stuff has looked pretty good, the Brewers are starting to get to him. Suppan is still Suppan.

I heard a report on a local news station last night that David Wells has been diagnosed with Type Two Diabetes. Now, who wouldn't be hesitant to harp on someone for having a disease, but given the nature of it--diet, weight, lifestyle--and its timing--on the heels of his safari and subsequent boasting of all the exotic game he consumed--I can't help but invoke the karma card. I mean, David...if you're gonna eat zebra, you don't need to douse it with powdered sugar and baco bits.

I've always been intrigued by old stadiums; I was ridiculously grateful when someone was finally able to pinpoint the location of the Polo Grounds for me while living in NYC, I take an unwarranted amount of pride in the fact my uncle in Minnesota took me to a game at the old Bloomington Stadium before they turned it into the Mall of America, and part of taking my kids to their first game at The Phone will absolutely include reminiscing to them about the 'Stick, and what it was like withstanding a game at that creepy gray bunker in the rear-view mirror.

Seals Stadium was a bit before my time, so I felt like I'd found buried treasure when I discovered a couple of old photos my Dad had taken at Seals Stadium when he took my sisters and brothers to a game. Alas, none of them turned out to be as goofy about these things as I am, so they had no firm recollections about the day in question.

Do any of you have first-hand accounts of the Seals Stadium experience? Or anyone you know? I've read a few histories of it, and have heard a few accounts, but they usually strike me as having a slight whiff of BS--a product of assuming everything old demands a certain glow, and is automatically "precious."

I'd love to hear the real deal. Maybe it was remarkable, maybe not. Please share, time and memory willing.

The recent, brief smattering of Randy Johnson jokes--in conjunction with the "greatest players of all time" list--got me to thinking about this subject, and wondering whether it would be a bit harsh to post this diary. If some of you are also uncomfortable with how much fun it could be compiling this list, then perhaps we can start a "best looking ballplayer" list later on (which come to think of it would probably make us even more uncomfortable).

In the meantime, with bated breath, I'll put my hat in the ring for Randy Hundley, Otis Nixon, and Steve Mingori.