Kuzul

Part of being a sportswriter these days is always being on top of your stuff.

I check my e-mail constantly. I’m on Twitter all day. I don’t sleep as much or as well as I used to since I’m always afraid that if I go to bed too early or sleep in too late, I might miss something important.

At this point, I’m even up on Saturdays and Sundays before 7:00 a.m. Tough life, huh?

So with that said, it’s only logical that right before I went to bed on Wednesday night, I did my final Twitter/e-mail check of the evening. Granted, I’d just done the same check 20 minutes before. But again, it’s just part of that whole “staying on top of your stuff” thing.

I wasn’t expecting to see much in that final go-around until I logged on to Twitter and saw one minor, innocuous posting: Ken Rosenthal was reporting that Carl Crawford and the Red Sox had just agreed to a seven-year, $142 million contract.

(Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s article on Carl Crawford. To read the rest, please click here or visit www.aarontorres-sports.com.)

Wait, what?

I had literally read a half an hour before that Crawford to the Angels was a done deal—that all that was left to consummate the deal was dot the i’s and cross the t’s. Was Crawford to the Sox for real?

Quickly I flipped on SportsCenter and saw nothing. I checked ESPN.com, and all that was showing up was the archaic Crawford to the Angels article from 20 minutes before. MLB Network had nothing. But as the night rolled on, the tweets just kept piling up, and apparently Carl Crawford was going to be a Red Sock.

One of my favorite players had just signed on to play for my favorite team, yet as I flipped off the lights and rolled around in bed, I’ve got to admit that the signing left me a bit uneasy.

Let me explain.  

On the one hand, I’m a Red Sox fan. That means a lot of things, but in relevance to this column, what’s most important is that I’ve seen Crawford play quite a bit over these last half-dozen years. With that said, the Crawford signing has me excited. Okay, I’m beyond excited. Truthfully, I haven’t been this tingly inside since the night of my senior prom.

The Red Sox just acquired one of the 10 most exciting athletes in professional sports, and one of the two or three most exciting in baseball. Hands down. Crawford is a physical freak with enough raw athleticism to have been recruited to play both football at Nebraska and basketball at UCLA. Instead he chose baseball to put food on the table, despite having barely played the sport in high school.

Since then, Crawford has evolved into one of the seven wonders of the baseball world, to the point that at 29 years old, his former manager in Tampa, Joe Maddon, has said that Crawford is just now reaching his full potential. Not bad for a guy who’s stolen at least 45 bases in six of the last seven years and hit over .300 in five of them.

But looking at the raw stats doesn’t do justice to how fun it is just to watch him. Every Crawford at-bat is “must see,” simply because he can turn a poorly played single into a double, and a double in the gap into a triple. Every time Crawford reaches base, it’s the kind of excitement Red Sox fans haven’t seen since Manny Ramirez was stumbling around left field like a drunken sailor.

Crawford once stole six bases in one game, and I was personally watching him one night when he stole home…standing up, mind you.

Now I get to watch him upwards of 160 times next year. I feel like a kid whose parents gave him a brand new car on his 16th birthday. What did I do to deserve this?

Unfortunately, with all that said, there’s always a “but.” In this case, the “but” comes in those mixed emotions I mentioned before. Because as exciting as this Crawford signing is for me personally, I can’t help but think that it’s terrible for baseball.

Seriously, the Red Sox just spent (a justified) $142 million on Crawford, thumping Anaheim’s bid by an extra year and close to $30 million over the length of the contract. That came on the heels of Boston acquiring Adrian Gonzalez and doling out a seven-year extension that’s going to pay a reported $23 million a year.

Now I’m not a math major, but if my calculations are correct, that’s close to $300 million through 2017…for two guys! Which leads to my next question: Is Theo Epstein running a baseball team or the U.S. Treasury?

It’s not like Theo hasn’t spent money recently either. This is a guy who handed a $40 million extension to a soon to be 30-year-old Josh Beckett in spring training last March. Granted, that signing wouldn’t have been that bad, except Beckett was throwing 89 mph fastballs that at the time could barely break a pane of glass, let alone an opposing hitter’s bat. Yet there was Theo throwing $40 million at him.

A few months prior, the Red Sox gave John Lackey $80 million to be their No. 3 starter.

Now I want to make it clear that I’m not complaining. As a fan, ultimately, all you can ask for from ownership is to put the most compelling and competitive team on the field possible. I get why the Red Sox gave each and every guy the money they did, even if I didn’t agree with all of it.

If the Red Sox hadn’t swooped in with a huge check for Crawford, they ran the risk of losing him to the Yankees like they did Mark Teixeira two years ago. If they hadn’t traded for Gonzalez, they ran the risk of having God knows who playing one of the corner infield positions. If they hadn’t extended Beckett in the spring, he might have blown up during the regular season, which would’ve pushed his price tag up.

To stay competitive in the current climate, these are moves that had to be made. Again, I’m not complaining, and I’m not pointing fingers.  

But at the same time, is the Red Sox throwing around money like this good for baseball?

Look, we’ve known for a long time that the business model of the sport is broken, and I hate to be the 8,217th sportswriter to bring that up. Still, how is the Red Sox spending this much money good for the game? How is it fiscally healthy when Boston trumped one of the other “big spenders” for Crawford by over $30 million? How is it good when two teams are playing by a completely different set of rules than everyone else?

People have been saying for years that baseball is about the “haves” and “have-nots,” but really that’s too simplistic. Baseball has turned into a caste system, with the Red Sox and Yankees at the top, Philadelphia, the Mets, Cubs and Angels in the middle and everybody else picking up the scraps. How is that good for anyone?

Now, I know this has all been a problem for a while now. I get it. But really, things haven’t been this bad for nearly as long as most people think…

(Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s article on the Carl Crawford signing. To read the remainder, please click here or visit www.aarontorres-sports.com.

Also, be sure to follow Aaron on Twitter @Aaron_Torres.)

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Admit it, you’re enjoying these baseball playoffs. The excitement. The do-or-die nature of every game. Brian Wilson’s epic beard-mohawk combo that makes him look like a guy begging for change outside McDonald’s.

The—

Wait, what’s that? You’re not enjoying these playoffs? Really? Maybe I’m the only one.

It’s true. Despite everything that’s happened so far—Roy Halladay’s no-hitter, the Rangers winning three games in Tampa, the Twins…well never mind, the Twins just suck- these are the least talked about baseball playoffs that I can remember; maybe of my entire lifetime.

Chatting with friends on the phone and communicating with people on Twitter, it seems like most of America has the same interest in the baseball postseason that CC Sabathia does for fruits and vegetables. None.

Now, we all know the reasons why. The games are too long. Our attention spans are too short. The same teams win every year. The new ones aren’t compelling. And with all that, I’m starting to wonder, is baseball losing steam as a mainstream sport?

I’m afraid it might be, considering that the most talked about thing from the first week of the playoffs (other than Halladay’s no-hitter), were those lousy Conan O’Brien blimp commercials. America just doesn’t seem to care about baseball.

Which is a shame, because I love baseball. As I mentioned last week, I grew up around the game, and played it all the way through the end of high school. I probably understand the intricacies of it as well as any sport. Yet even for me, Aaron Torres—a guy who writes about sports for a living—some of these games are a tad bit boring. Which isn’t good.

It’s also why I’m here to make some suggestions on how to improve the product.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you anything stupid, like, “We should have Brett Favre and Jenn Sterger call games together,” or “Let Pauly D from Jersey Shore throw out the first pitch of the World Series.” As much as like that second idea, even I’m not dumb enough to think it could actually happen.

Nope, these are 10 real suggestions. Ten ways to hopefully appease old fans, cultivate new ones, and maybe in the process, pump a little life back into a dying sport. Baseball might not be able to change the product on the field, but they can change the way they produce and present it.

Here’s some food for thought. And as always, I encourage you to share your ideas.

Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s 10 Ways To Spice Up The MLB Postseason. To read the remainder, please click here or visit www.aarontorres-sports.com

No. 1. Have the Two Highest Finishing Non-Division Winners Play a Three-Game Series To Earn the Wild Card:

I’ve heard other people mention this, and couldn’t agree more. And you know why? Because you can never have too much playoff baseball! It doesn’t hurt that in the process, it would keep a lot of teams playing hard down the stretch.

Take this year for example. The Yankees ended up winning the American League Wild Card instead of the AL East, in large part because they lost nine of their last 11 games.

Since there was no real threat of missing the playoffs (they clinched a postseason berth sometime around Memorial Day), they essentially treated the last two weeks of the season like an additional, glorified spring training session. They rested guys up. Their starting pitchers only threw a few innings per outing.

The Yankees might as well have been playing split-squad games against college teams those last few weeks. Again, it felt like spring training.

But think how differently those few weeks would’ve played out if the Yankees had to play two or three extra games if they didn’t win the division. Think Joe Girardi would’ve spent the last two weeks of the regular season spitting sunflower seed shells on himself, instead of actually managing? Of course not.

The Yankees would have been playing hard down the stretch, trying to get the division title and the first round bye. In the process, those last few regular season games in Boston would’ve been the most entertaining baseball of the year, than just an excuse to get Marcus Thames some extra at bats, and Joba Chamberlain an extra inning or two of work.

And speaking of Boston, if the Yankees didn’t win the division, guess who they would’ve played this year for the Wild Card berth? Yep, that’s right, the Red Sox. Who’s opposed to three more games of those two playing? Besides the Red Sox, the “Wild Card Round,” (as I’ll call it), would’ve had teams like the Cardinals, Blue Jays, Tigers and Rockies playing hard until the last game or two of their season as well.

Sure the season would take a few days longer, but again, who cares? Especially when you’ve got five or six more teams involved in the playoff race every year.

No. 2 The Winner of the Wild Card Plays The Team With The Best Record In Each League:

Essentially, this is in-line with the first rule. After all, isn’t the goal to have more teams playing for something down the stretch? With this rule in place, even the top teams would have reason to play hard all 162 games, with the opportunity to play the Wild Card winner—coming off an extra series—in the first round.

Also, shouldn’t there be incentive for a team to finish with the best record? Because, whoever came up with the current rule—that the Wild Card winner can’t play a Divisional opponent in the first round—is an idiot. Yes, I’m looking at you, Bud Selig.

With the system that’s currently in place, teams are, in a way, rewarded for winning the Wild Card and punished for winning their division. If you don’t believe me, ask any Reds fan. They won their first NL Central title in 15 years, and what did they get to show for it? Roy Halladay, Roy Oswalt and Cole Hamels in back-to-back games, that’s what.

How is that fair? Think they would’ve preferred the Giants instead? And even though they ended up losing in the NLDS, don’t you think the Braves were much happier getting San Francisco in the NLDS rather than getting Philadelphia? Again, why reward the Braves that way.

Finally, having Divisional opponents face off in the first round would only add to the drama of the playoffs. This year we would’ve gotten the Rays and the Yankees in the first round, two teams that know each other like an old married couple, and have the same disdain for each other too.

If those two had played, that would’ve been the must see matchup of the first round. Instead we got the Twins-Yankees laugher, and the Rays-Rangers series, that drew the lowest ratings of the playoffs on Sunday afternoon.

Speaking of which…

No. 3 No Games On Sunday’s:

Ever. This is non-negotiable.

Again, for Major League Baseball, the goal here is to get your product out to as many fans as possible. And with America as a whole going into a catatonic state any time the National…Football…League is even mentioned, it’s just stupid to try and compete against it. Really, why bother. You will lose.

My suggestion to baseball is simple: Take Sunday’s off. Sunday is the Lord’s Day, and it’s Peyton Manning’s day. Don’t ever forget that.

No. 4 Let Fans Vote For the LCS and World Series MVP:

This is absolutely, positively my favorite idea (mainly because I haven’t heard anyone besides myself mention it).

Here’s why: We’re Americans. To a degree, we’re self-absorbed. We want our opinions to be voiced, and our voices to be heard. Why do you think thousands of bozos like me create sports blogs and spend countless hours on message boards? It’s because we’re dumb enough to think that people actually care what we have to say! Crazy, I know.

But it is that sense of self-centered jingoism that makes shows like Dancing With The Stars a hit. Believe me, 20 million people aren’t tuning in to see “The Situation,” do the samba in a sequined shirt. Most people have things to do with their time. Granted, I’m not one of them. But still.

No, the reason people watch Dancing With Stars, American Idol, America’s Next Top Model (I swear, I’ve only heard of that one, never seen it. What? I swear!), is because we like knowing we have a say in something. That our opinion matters. That no matter how little our voice is, it’s getting heard.

Why couldn’t this work for the LCS and World Series MVP’s? It’s not like any of us care who wins the stupid award anyway. Or even remember who wins for that matter.

Actually, here’s a quick pop quiz: Who was last year’s World Series MVP.

…

Don’t you dare look it up!

…

The answer is Hideki Matsui. If I had given you 25 guesses, would you have ever gotten that? I wouldn’t have.

But, if you’d stayed up until 2:30 in the morning after Game 6 of last year’s World Series voting for Matsui, would you remember then ? I thought so.

This is just PART of the article on 10 Ways To Spice Up the MLB Playoffs. To read the rest, including thoughts on Steve Phillips, hot sideline reporters, and much, much more, please click here or visit www.aarontorres-sports.com

Also, to get updates on all of Aaron’s articles, podcasts and free giveaways, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres or by downloading the Aaron Torres Sports App for FREE for your iPhone or Android

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Over the weekend I was laying by the pool, taking in some rays and listening to my iPod shuffle, when, after a steady stream of calming, relaxing music, the Colin Cowherd Podcast popped up out of nowhere. So much for relaxing, huh?

I’m sure most of you are familiar with Cowherd’s work, but for those who aren’t, Cowherd definitely knows how to get a debate going. He’s equal parts stubborn and contrarian, but never ends a rant without making you think about something differently than you might have previously.

Even if you want to strangle him sometimes.

The particular debate Colin had on this day was whether or not it’s acceptable for adults to wear team jerseys, and at what age the act goes from “upbeat fan supporting the team,” to “weird old guy who needs to get a life.”

While a consensus was never officially agreed upon, it got me thinking: How have the rules of being a sports fan changed over time, and what are they in 2010?

Here’s my take on 10 of them.

 
1. Jerseys: Let’s start with jerseys, because it was Cowherd’s rant that planted the seeds for this article. I also think this is one of the most complex aspects of Fandom, with more caveats and loopholes than Lindsay Lohan’s parole agreement.

First off, let me say that I never wear anything but basketball jerseys these days (more on this coming). Just one guy’s personal opinion, but once I discovered girls right around the start of high school, I decided that once and for all, they had to stay in my closet. I figured it’d be kind of hard to lose my virginity while wearing a John Valentin Red Sox jersey. Call me crazy.

But my personal feelings aside, as an adult there is a time and a place to wear a jersey and support your favorite team, and it’s called game day. Wear your jersey to the game, to the bar to watch the game, or around the house if it brings you good luck.

I’m cool with that, but really only that. If you’re wearing your Reggie Bush jersey out to the bar on a Friday night, well I’m sorry, but really, you’re asking to go home by yourself.

Now, as I mentioned, there are a few caveats to jersey wearing. Here are a couple I came up with.

A. As I said, jerseys aren’t really acceptable on non-game days, but one exception I’ll make is for live fantasy drafts. A little weird, sure, but come on, you’re with a bunch of dudes, busting balls, and eating pizza. What are you supposed to wear? A polo and khakis?

Also, nothing quite says “I’m taking home the top prize,” like wearing that Bam Morris jersey you got on your 11th birthday. Nothing.

B. As Cowherd mentioned on his podcast, I think it’s acceptable to wear jerseys on a college campus, as long as you actually go to school there. You’re poor, it might be the most expensive thing in your closet, and if times get tough you may have to put it on eBay for beer money.

So enjoy it while you can. Besides, there’s nothing worse than the kid in your dorm who is indifferent to the team. Honestly, why even go to Syracuse if you don’t like basketball?

C. I mentioned basketball jersey’s are different than football, baseball and hockey jersey’s and here’s why: There’s no better alternative on a nice summer day than wearing a basketball jersey to the beach.

Stylish, without trying too hard. Just please make sure the jersey is up to date. A Tracy McGrady purple Raptors jersey isn’t cool. Believe me.

D. Those t-shirt, jersey thingies that are popular items at ballparks (the one’s with the team’s logo on the front, and a guy’s name and number on the back) are OK.

At first I wasn’t much of a fan, but they’ve grown on me, especially after my buddy Chris bought me an Alexander Ovechkin t-shirt/jersey thingy in Washington, and I’ve gotten a bunch of compliments. Thanks CP.

To me, the t-shirt/jersey is a lot like a mullet: Professional in appearance in the front, much more easy going in the back.

2. Autographs: My stance on autographs is simple: Unless you’re getting one for your kid, there’s never an excuse for anyone who has hit puberty to wait in line for an autograph. Period.

Simply put, if  your voice has changed and you’ve got hair under your arm pits, find something better to do with your time and energy. Even if it is spending six hours a day playing Madden.

After careful observation, I’ve come to the conclusion that adults who ask for autographs are one of two things.

A. Pathetic, in which case, I’m sorry that I had to be the one to break it to you, but you are. On a positive note, I’m sure you’ll find solace from your friends in the World of Warcraft chatroom later tonight.

B. A scumbag, since you’re only getting the autograph so you can put it on eBay later tonight and flip it for a very minimal profit.

Really, this is what your life has come down to? Waiting outside a San Francisco Giants spring training game to get Pablo Sandoval to sign a picture so you can sell it for $12 plus shipping?

Get a life dude. Or better yet, a real job.

3. Face Painting: Listen, I went to UConn. I went to a lot of huge basketball games. Nobody loves the Huskies more than me. Nobody.

But never once did I ever, even for 1/10 of one second, consider painting my face. I pray to God you haven’t either.

You don’t really want to end up like this guy? Do you?

(If you’re enjoying this article, be sure to follow Aaron on Twitter @Aaron_Torres)

4. The Wave: If you’re at a beach volleyball match, I get the wave. If you’re at the Little League World Series, I get the wave. If you’re at a WNBA game, I get the wave (since it’s probably the only thing keeping you from jumping off the second level balcony).

But at any real sporting event, there are very few cases when I’m OK with the wave. Mainly, if it’s late in the game, and your team has a comfortable (some would say insurmountable) lead. Then go nuts, and get the victory celebration going a little early.

If that’s not the case, sit down in your seat and watch the game.

The wave has become especially concerning at some recent Red Sox games I’ve been to. Because for some reason, it’s all of a sudden cool and totally acceptable to break out the wave right around the seventh inning, regardless of score or situation. And I really don’t get it.

Look, family of four from Manchester, N.H., I’m glad you made it down for the game. I really am. But we’re playing the Yankees. It’s a 2-1 game in the 8th inning. Jonathan Papelbon has been more erratic than Ronnie from Jersey Shore lately. And we’re in the middle of a playoff race.

How about you sit down so I can actually see what’s going on? Is that too much to ask?

I don’t know if it’s just Red Sox games, but the wave seems to be taking over sporting events for no rhyme or reason, and I don’t like it.

5. The YMCA: The flamboyant cousin of the Wave. Or is the Wave the flamboyant cousin of the YMCA?

I don’t know, but either way, don’t expect me to do it any time soon.

6. Signage: I’m all for signage, just as long as it’s original, creative or funny. My personal favorite is still from college, when at a UConn basketball game, a friend of a friend held up a picture of Denham Brown dunking a basketball, with the caption, “If it’s Brown, flush it down!”

Now that, my friends, is a funny sign.

I’m also OK with signage if it’ll genuinely rattle the intended target. This usually works best at basketball games, and usually involves childhood nicknames, baby mama’s (in many cases plural) or some not nice words about a guy’s mom.

Hey, anything to give your team the edge, right?

My only beef with signs is if they’re just not creative.

Like if you go to a tennis tournament, please spare yourself the embarrassment of the, “Maria Sharapova: Will You Marry Me,” sign.

Dude, I’m sorry, but poor Maria has been proposed to at every tour stop she’s taken in the past six years. To the best of my knowledge she hasn’t once said yes. And I doubt your pimply face and C+ average really offers her anything more than she’s already got. Unless she’s really into dudes who play XBox on Friday night’s and own four foot bongs.

If that’s the case then go for it. Otherwise, leave the sign at home. Please, you’re only embarrassing yourself.

7. Gambling: Look, we all love to gamble. And thanks to the Internet, it’s not a shady, back-water business, with a bunch of guys wearing top hats, smoking cigars, and betting on the “ponies,” anymore.

And thank goodness, because I really don’t look good in a top hat.

But unless we’re in a bet together, I really don’t want to hear about your bad luck.

I know that you the Clippers +14, they were up heading into the fourth quarter, and got outscored 42-4 down the stretch. And I’m sorry for you. But I just don’t really care.

Besides, why did you bet on the Clippers in the first place?

(Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s 10 Rules For Being A Sports Fan. To read the rest, please click here, or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com.

Also, for Aaron’s take on all things sports, be sure to add him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres, Facebook.com/AaronTorresSports or by downloading his APP for FREE for your iPhone or Android!!)

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

At this point in my life, I’m rarely overwhelmed by anything in sports anymore.

Sure, every once in awhile there are some pleasant surprises like Landon Donovan’s goal against Algeria, Stephen Strasburg’s start against the Pirates, even seeing Danica Patrick in a bathing suit for the first time. But for the most part, sports are an endless conveyor belt of 7-2  baseball games, two touchdown football blowouts and Louis Oosthuzien’s 32 stroke British Open victory. In other words, everything kind of runs together. Nothing sticks out.

So heading down to Baltimore for my first trip to Camden Yards this week, I wasn’t really expecting to be impressed. Even after hearing good things from everyone I talked to, I was still a little dubious. After all, what could a 20-year-old ballpark, home to a last place team really offer?

A lot apparently.

Because I can’t lie, I didn’t just like Camden Yards. I loved it. Loved everything about it.

The stadium is the perfect mix of old school sports charm and new school comfort, creativity, and amenities. While having the ambiance of a stadium built 50 years ago, Camden Yards offers everything you’d want out of a contemporary ball park: Great sight lines, amazing food, clean and accessible bathrooms, you name it.

So for those of you who’ve never been, what do you need to know?

Here are the answers, in my Idiot’s Guide To Camden Yards…

Do: Go to Pregame At One of the Bars Located Around the Stadium

Look, in this day and age, it isn’t enough just to have a cool stadium. Half the fun of going to a ballpark is the atmosphere surrounding the game, especially when your team is as bad as the Orioles.

It’s actually this reason alone that Fenway Park is still my favorite stadium in America. On game night, the streets around the park are a zoo; part big game atmosphere, part carnival, part college keg party.

Even if you don’t have tickets to see the Red Sox, you can still hang out around Fenway Park on game night, drink Sam Adams, hit on girls with Big Papi t-shirts on and just have a good old time. The same can’t be said at other places like Citi Field, Yankee Stadium or Nationals Park.

But much like Fenway, the atmosphere around Camden Yards is awesome.

Before Tuesday night’s game we ended up settling at a bar across the street from the stadium named Pickles, which came recommended to me by one of my followers on Twitter (@Aaron_Torres). With good music, $2.00 Yuengling cans and full of Orioles fans, the place didn’t disappoint. (Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about the food at Pickles. I’ll explain why in a minute).

When we walked by the following day, the crowd was even better, which considering that first pitch was 12:35 that afternoon, was especially impressive. (I guess when your team is 30 games out of first place, any excuse to day drink is a valid one).

Other pregame places that come recommended by yours truly are Sliders (right next to Pickles) and the Nest, located on the opposite side of the stadium.

However, I do have one warning. While the drink specials on game night are good at The Nest, the food was absolutely terrible. My tuna melt specifically seemed like it got thrown together by a cook that was three beers deep and trying to sneak out for a cigarette break. So be warned.

However, speaking of food…

(Because of length this is just PART of Aaron’s Idiots Guide To Camden Yards. To read the remainder, please visit www.aarontorres-sports.com)

Don’t: Buy Food From Anyone But A Street Vendor

If you’re hungry, the place to hit is the traffic island located right across the street from Sliders and Pickles. There, street vendors serve any kind of food that a slightly intoxicated American baseball patron who couldn’t care less about caloric intake could want. Sausage with grilled peppers, three-quarter pound cheeseburgers, foot long beef hot dogs, you name it.

And what the street vendors lack in salesmanship (when I asked one what the name of the area was called, his front-tooth-missing, mumbled response was, “It don’t have a name.”) they make up for in the quality of their food.

The grilled sausage I got was the best meal I’ve eaten in months. I guess it makes sense then why 25 Baltimore police officers assigned to work the game were standing in front of me in line.

The prices were also outstanding. The sausage that I bought outside the stadium was $5.00, compared to my tuna melt, which again, tasted like it was dropped on the floor, that cost $9.00 in a restaurant. Burgers were the same price, and hot dogs were $3.00. In the beverage department, you could score three bottles of water for $5.00.

And you know what the best part was? As long as your food was wrapped and beverages unopened, you could bring them in the stadium with you.

Do: Walk Around The Ballpark Once Inside

My favorite part of the ballpark was Eutaw Street. It was a part concourse, part carnival that ran behind the right-centerfield fence. Eutaw was everything that modern stadiums should be about; baseball combined with entertainment, with food and drink stands side by side with a caricaturist drawing pictures.

It was also home to one of the best known restaurants in baseball, Boog Powell’s Barbeque, run by former Orioles All-Star and resident fatty, Boog Powell. While the beef barbeque sandwich I got wasn’t all that good, Boog Powell’s is just one of those food places you’ve got to try regardless.

The coolest part of Eutaw also doubles as the most famous landmark at Camden Yards.It is the old warehouse (yes, at one point it was an actual warehouse) that became famous in the 1993 Home Run Derby when Ken Griffey Jr. became the first person to ever hit a home run off it. The building, used by the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad half a century ago, was apparently abandoned and decrepit until they built Camden Yards. Now, it’s a cool quirk that houses a team store, a bar, and other stores and shops.

If you only do one thing at Camden Yards, my recommendation is to definitely spend some time on Eutaw Street.

(Because of length this is just PART of Aaron’s Idiots Guide to Camden Yards. To read the remainder of this article, please click here, or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com.

Also for Aaron’s take on ALL things sports, be sure to add him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres, Facebook.com/AaronTorresSports or download his APP for your iPhone or Android)

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

If you’re like me and have been distracted by the World Cup and LeBron-gate over these past few weeks, you were probably shocked to learn that baseball’s midway point is already upon us.

So to help you get into the swing of things as we head toward the playoffs, here are 50 Reasons To Be Excited For The Second Half of the season…

1. Major League Baseball Home Run Leader, Jose Bautista: So, are we sure George Mitchell caught everyone who was using steroids? Just asking.

2. The Hope That The Cardinals Make An Unexpected Run To The World Series: Just to see Tony LaRussa managing the 2011 All-Star game in Phoenix.

3. The Ongoing Texas Rangers Bankruptcy Trial: You knew things were bad when reports came out last week that Nolan Ryan was opening a lemonade stand.

4. David Wright and “The Situation”: I don’t care if the Mets end up making the playoffs or not. This video clip will always be the highlight of their 2010 season.

5. The White Sox Resurgence: Question: We always hear about Brian Cashman and Theo Epstein, but why doesn’t Kenny Williams ever get credit for being one of the elite GM’s in baseball? This roster has been made over more times than Joan Rivers’ face, yet here come the White Sox again, closing in on another division title.

6. The Pittsburgh Pirates: Going on 14 straight sub-.500 seasons and counting. Well, at least Pittsburgh still has that Roethlisberger guy… Umm, never mind.

7. The Summer of Strasburg: Strasburg has sold more jersey’s in six months than anyone ever has as a rookie. I don’t care what the experts say, he should have been on the All-Star team.

8. Cubs Pitcher Carlos Zambrano: I mean, at this point, I feel like it’d be cruel to pile on. So instead, just insert your own joke here.

9. Josh Johnson: No joke to make here, the dude is just filthy. My only wish is that I got to watch him pitch more often.

(Because of length, this is only PART of Aaron’s 50 Reasons To Be Excited For the Second Half of the Baseball Season. To read the REMAINDER, visit www.aarontorres-sports.com)

10. My First Trip to Camden Yards: Which is scheduled for next week. Anyone have any suggestions?

11. My First Trip to the New Yankee Stadium: Which is scheduled for sometime before the end of the summer. Anyone have tickets they want to give away?

12. The Bobby Cox Farewell Tour: Anyone want to chip in on a fruit basket?

13. Miguel Cabrera: If he wins the Triple Crown, does that mean we can’t make anymore jokes about last year’s .23 blood/alcohol content?

14. Baseball’s Continued Pitching Revolution: Which, just for the record, I pointed out about a full month before the rest of the national media.

15. Jon Lester’s Starts: He throws hard, throws strikes, is efficient, and that cutter is deadly. Watching him pitch has been my favorite part of this Red Sox season so far.

16. Daisuke Matsuzaka’s Starts: Take everything I just said about Lester’s starts and flip it around. I don’t care if he’s pitching relatively well this year. He’s slow, boring, and has set the game of baseball back 20 years. I hate the guy.

17. My Preseason Prop Bet That Mark Reynolds Would Lead the Majors in Home Runs: Let’s just say I got good odds. Let’s just say if he comes through, I’m buying everyone their own Mark Reynolds bobble head. Let’s just say nothing, since gambling isn’t really legal in this country.

18. The San Diego Padres Run Toward a Division Crown: Look on the bright side Padres fans: Even if they don’t make the playoffs, well, you still live in San Diego. Which means you’ve already got the rest of us beat.

19. Chan Ho Park’s Bowel Movements: Will he survive the entire second half without another case of explosive diarrhea? Stay tuned to find out.

20. Kendry Morales’ Broken Leg: I still haven’t decided who that broken leg was more damaging to: The Angels, or my fantasy team.

21. New Blue Jays Shortstop Yunel Escobar: Gotta love Buster Olney’s story from Thursday of when Escobar wished one of his Braves teammates a Happy Birthday, and the guy responded by saying that the only gift he wanted was for Escobar to play hard that night. Hmm…I wonder why he got traded?

22. The Patterson Brothers: Corey plays outfield for the Orioles. Eric was called up to the Red Sox before the All-Star break. Now we finally know what it would have been like if Chris Gwynn and Craig Griffey had been brothers.

23. Because Thanks To Baseball: We can finally stop talking about LeBron.

24. Corey Hart: I don’t care about the home runs. Doesn’t he just look like a fun guy to hang out with?

25. The All-Star Game’s Record-Low Ratings: Once again proving my theory that the only thing dying at a faster rate than baseball is the porn industry.

(This is just PART of Aaron’s 50 Reasons To Be Excited For the Remainder of the Baseball Season. To read the rest, please click here or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com.

Also, for Aaron’s take on all things sports, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres or at Facebook.com/AaronTorresSports and download his APP for your iPhone or Android)

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

When news broke out that Yankees’ owner George Steinbrenner had passed Tuesday morning, I predictably got a few texts from friends asking if I was planning on writing about “The Boss.”

At first I hesitated; too much had happened before I was even born. I had never met him in person. What perspective could I possibly give, that a million other writers couldn’t?

Then I really started to think about George. I thought about the way he ran his organization with the iron fist of a South American dictator. I thought about the way he controlled every word that came in and out of his clubhouse like the Russians controlled information during the Cold War.

I thought about the way he struck fear into multi-millionaire ballplayers and fired managers like they were clerks at CVS. I thought about the way he was equal parts loathed, feared, and respected by fans of the opposition.

I really started to think about how there might be a million more Mark Cubans in my lifetime, but there will never be anyone quite like George.

Now if you’re looking for me to give perspective on the old-school, tyrannical, terrifying, trust no one, fire everyone Steinbrenner of the 1980’s and early 1990’s, you’ll have to go somewhere else. By the time I got to know him as a fan, he was coming off his second suspension from baseball and was a more mellowed, subdued guy…at least in some regards.

But make no mistake, he was still “The Boss.” Even in his advanced age, there was never a doubt who the alpha dog with the Yankees—or in baseball for that matter—was. It was always Big George.

As a Red Sox fan growing up in Steinbrenner’s world, he was more terrifying than any player, coach, team, or organization of my youth. He was an almost mythical figure, rarely seen, but always heard from, and, much like the Godfather, someone who could always get things done. Steinbrenner wasn’t just an owner, but was the scariest kind: one with lots of money who wasn’t afraid to spend it.

During his heyday (and basically every day), Steinbrenner was like a 16-year-old girl with her father’s credit card at the mall. If he saw something he wanted, he went and got it. No trade was impossible for the Yankees, no free agent splurge too outlandish. If his team was struggling during the season, you always knew he’d put pressure on someone to do something to make the squad better.

There was nothing he wasn’t capable of.

Because of that “fear no one, crush everyone” attitude, Steinbrenner was at the controls of the most dominant sports organization of my youth. Not only did fans of other teams know their teams weren’t beating the Yankees, but I also always got the sense that opposing players knew that too.

I remember watching the 1998 World Series when the Yankees played the Padres. After eight innings of Game 1, you could see in the Padres’ eyes that they knew they were toast, and sure enough, they were swept three games later.

Nobody beat the Yankees in the late 1990’s, and like I said, it was more because of Steinbrenner than because of any one player.

It was that burning, win-at-all-costs passion that made The Boss the best owner of my lifetime.

(Follow Aaron on Twitter @Aaron_Torres)

Just a few days ago, I wrote about Cleveland Cavaliers’ owner Dan Gilbert and his comments regarding LeBron James leaving his team. With the death of Steinbrenner yesterday, it’s all kind of worth repeating.

While I thought Gilbert’s comments about LeBron were crass and a bit over the top, they also gave me a newfound respect for the guy. At the end of the day, Gilbert stood up to a superstar and stood behind his fans and remaining players. He made his point clear: LeBron James wasn’t bigger than his organization. He promised that he’d continue to do whatever it took to put a championship-caliber team on the court.

Good for him.

Steinbrenner was like that…times 45,000.

Again, as a Red Sox fan growing up in the late 1990’s, watching the Yankees pile up championships was terrifying, frustrating, and angering, and it was probably just the same for every Braves, Mets, and White Sox fan too. We didn’t just despise Steinbrenner.

We hated him.

At the same time, how could you not respect him?

(Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s article on George Steinbrenner. To read the remainder, please click here or visit Aaron at www.aarontorres-sports.com .

Also, for his take on all things sports, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres and download his App for your iPhone or Android)

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

When news broke Tuesday morning that Yankees’ owner George Steinbrenner had passed, predictably I got a few texts from friends asking if I was planning on writing about “The Boss.”

At first I hesitated. Too much had happened before I was even born. I had never met him in person. What perspective could I possibly give that a million other writers couldn’t?

Then I really started to think about George. I thought about the way he ran his organization with the iron fist of a South American dictator. I thought about the way he controlled every word that came in and out his clubhouse like the Russians controlled information during the Cold War. I thought about the way he struck fear into multi-millionaire ballplayers and fired managers like they were clerks at CVS. I thought about the way he was equal parts loathed, feared, and respected by fans of the opposition.

I really started to think about how there might be a million more Mark Cuban’s in my lifetime. But there will never be anyone quite like George.

Now if you’re looking for me to give perspective on the old-school, tyrannical, terrifying, trust no one, fire everyone Steinbrenner of the 1980’s and early 1990’s you’ll have to go somewhere else. By the time I got to know him as a fan, he was coming off his second suspension from baseball and was a more mellowed, subdued guy, at least in some regards.

But make no mistake, he was still “The Boss.” Even in his advanced age, there was never a doubt who the alpha dog with the Yankees—or in baseball for that matter—was. It was always Big George.

(Because of length, this is only PART of Aaron’s article. To read the rest, please visit www.aarontorres-sports.com )

As a Red Sox fan growing up in Steinbrenner’s world, he was more terrifying than any player, coach, team, or organization of my youth. He was an almost mythical figure, rarely seen, but always heard from, and, much like the Godfather, someone who could always get things done. Steinbrenner wasn’t just an owner but was the scariest kind, one with lots of money who wasn’t afraid to spend it.

During his heyday (and basically every day), Steinbrenner was like a 16-year-old girl with her father’s credit card at the mall. If he saw something he wanted, he went and got it. No trade was impossible for the Yankees. No free agent splurge too outlandish. If his team was struggling during the season, you always knew he’d put pressure on someone to do something to make the squad better. There was nothing he wasn’t capable of.

Because of that “fear no one, crush everyone” attitude, Steinbrenner was at the controls of the most dominant sports organization of my youth. Not only did fans of other teams know their teams weren’t beating the Yankees, but I also always got the sense that opposing players knew too. I remember watching the 1998 World Series when the Yankees played the Padres. After eight innings of Game One, you could see in the Padres’ eyes that they knew they were toast, and sure enough, they were swept three games later.

Nobody beat the Yankees in the late 1990’s, and like I said, it was more because of Steinbrenner than because of any one player.

And it was that burning, win-at-all-costs passion that made The Boss the best owner of my lifetime.

Just a few days ago, I wrote about Cleveland Cavaliers’ owner Dan Gilbert and his comments regarding LeBron James leaving his team. But with the death of Steinbrenner yesterday, it’s all kind of worth repeating:

While I thought Gilbert’s comments about LeBron were crass and a bit over the top, they also gave me a newfound respect for the guy. At the end of the day, Gilbert stood up to a superstar and stood behind his fans and remaining players. He made his point clear, that LeBron James wasn’t bigger than his organization, and promised that he’d continue to do whatever it took to put a championship-caliber team on the court. Good for him.

Steinbrenner was like that…times 45,000.

Again, as a Red Sox fan growing up in the late 1990’s, watching the Yankees pile up championships was terrifying, frustrating, and angering, and it was probably just the same for every Braves, Mets and White Sox fan too. We didn’t just despise Steinbrenner. We hated him.

At the same time, how could you not respect him?…

(Because of length, this is just PART of Aaron’s article on George Steinbrenner. To read the remainder, please CLICK HERE or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com .

Also, for his take on all things sports, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres )

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Congratulations and welcome to the 3,287th column, article, blog post, essay, profile, feature, kindergarten-free write, and poem you’ll read about Stephen Strasburg this week.

Please feel free to check your coat at the door, and be sure to leave your name and address with my secretary. Your parting gifts will be arriving by mail in seven to 10 business days…

Just kidding, of course.

There’ll be no gifts, at least not from AaronTorres-Sports.com. Instead, tonight’s gift comes from Strasburg himself, when he takes the mound against the Pirates.

Because when Strasburg does make his debut, this will be bigger than just a baseball game. It’ll be a potentially historic event, and certainly the greatest unveiling of an American professional athlete since LeBron James hit NBA courts in 2003.

Arguably, it’ll be the most hyped regular season baseball game in recent memory, and certainly the biggest for the Nationals since the franchise moved to Washington a few years ago.

Maybe the most intriguing part of this game though, is the uncertainty surrounding Strasburg himself.

Either way, buckle up. We’re in for a wild ride.

As I mentioned before, Tuesday night will mark the most anticipated debut of any American athlete since LeBron James in 2003. But the cloak of secrecy surrounding Strasburg makes him the anti-LeBron.

Remember, when LeBron was a senior in high school, most of his games were televised on national TV. He was on the cover of Sports Illustrated at 17. When his single mom bought him a Hummer, it became a national news story.

No, seriously—I remember hearing about the Hummer not from ESPN, but ABC’s World News Tonight .

By the time LeBron actually played his first NBA game, we all felt like we knew him personally. He was already a brand, one of the five most marketable guys in the league.

What makes Strasburg’s MLB debut on Tuesday night so fascinating is that in this 24-hour, ESPNews, Twitter-fueled society we live in, the guy is basically a blank canvas.

(This is just PART of Aaron’s article on Stephen Strasburg’s debut. To read this piece in its entirety, please visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com )

Seriously, what do we know about him?

Okay, he went to San Diego State and played for Tony Gwynn, I’ll give you that. He was the No. 1 overall pick in last year’s draft and is represented by agent Scott Boras (also known as Satan’s golf partner). He’s been blowing away overmatched hitters at a rate we haven’t seen since Brendan Fraser played Steve Nebraska in the terrible baseball movie The Scout .

Other than that, give me something on Strasburg. Anything. I’ve heard he drinks a lot of tea. That’s all I’ve really got.

Strasburg is the great unknown.

What kind of pitches does he throw? How tall is he? Let me put it to you another way: If Strasburg was standing next to you at the DMV or grocery store and wasn’t wearing a baseball uniform, would you have any idea who the guy was?

I write about sports for a living, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t know.

Comparing Strasburg to LeBron is easy, but to me the more ample comparison is to Bigfoot. Sasquatch. Yeah, that guy.

The only footage we have of Strasburg is grainy film from the back woods of Syracuse, Harrisburg, and Altoona. The only people who’ve seen him play in person are old scouts named Chick and Red, and honestly, can we really trust someone named Chick or Red?

Could the stories they’re telling possibly be true?

That Strasburg once struck out three batters on nine pitches? That his changeup was once clocked at 97? That he pushed the team bus four miles when it ran out of gas?

Where does the legend end and reality kick in?

Pitching every fifth day only helps. Unlike a position player in baseball, or an NBA or NHL prodigy, we’re getting just enough Strasburg without being overwhelmed. There aren’t game-to-game, minute-to-minute updates. But when he does slip our minds—if only for a second—there he is back on the mound every fifth day twirling a gem.

Strasburg finished the most decorated two-month minor league career in baseball history with PlayStation-like numbers. He went 7-2 with a 1.30 ERA in 11 starts between Double-A and Triple-A, striking out 65 batters in 55.1 innings.

Supposedly he also sold hot dogs on his off days and cured cancer on the team bus during a road trip from Harrisburg to Hershey Park. Supposedly.

All this brings us back to Tuesday night, and maybe the most celebrated regular season baseball game, since…umm…well, I really don’t know. I spent 20 minutes arguing the point with buddy Finn on the phone Monday….

(This is just PART of Aaron’s article on the debut of Stephen Strasburg. To read the rest, please click here , or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com .

Also, for his thoughts on all things sports, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres and Facebook.com/AaronTorresSports )

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

I’d always assumed the first time I’d feel old as a sports fan would be when LeBron James retired.

Made sense, right? After all, The King and I were born just six months apart, and graduated high school the same year. We attended our senior proms just two weeks apart (although, as hard as this might be to believe, mine wasn’t a national news story).

And right as LeBron was getting his first taste of the NBA lifestyle after being drafted in 2003, I was getting my first taste of independence as a college freshman.

I always pictured the day, in 2019 or 2020 or 2021, when a graying, balding LeBron would step in front of the cameras and say that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he was retiring from basketball. Somewhere, a graying, balding me would be watching, holding back a tear, and realizing, “Man, I’m getting old.”

When LeBron James, the greatest contemporary athlete of my generation, couldn’t do it anymore, I’d always assumed that a little piece of me as a sports fan would retire with him.

Then Wednesday night happened.

While the nation was transfixed on Armando Galarraga-gate, another, smaller baseball headline scrolled across the bottom of our television screens. Ken Griffey Jr., my first sports hero, announced his retirement.

And man do I feel old.

For anyone under the age of 20 this might be hard to believe, but there was a time in the early and mid-1990s when there wasn’t a bigger superstar than Ken Griffey Jr.

I’m not talking about in baseball. I’m talking about in sports. Period.

(This is just PART of Aaron’s article on his boyhood hero, Ken Griffey Jr. To read the remainder, please click here or visit him at www.aarontorres-sports.com )

Sure basketball had Michael Jordan, but when he went from NBA superstar, to minor league baseball afterthought, back to NBA superstar in the blink of an eye, it rubbed a lot of people (including everyone in my household) the wrong way.

The NFL was in the midst of a semi-identity crisis, caught between the John Elway/Dan Marino era and the Peyton Manning era, with its best team—the Dallas Cowboys—having players who made more headlines for doing drugs and hanging with strippers than for anything they did on the field.

Tennis had Pete Sampras, but believe me when I say that he was about as fun to watch as a Matlock marathon on A&E. And remember too, this was pre-Tiger Woods, so I really couldn’t tell you who the best golfer in the world was. If only because nobody cared about golf.

But Griffey had a 100 percent approval rating. It didn’t matter if you were a Mariners fan, a Red Sox fan, a Yankees fan, whatever.

If you were between the ages of 6 and 13 in 1993, Griffey was your favorite player. End of story.

(Random side note: I remember a time, maybe in kindergarten or first grade, some friends and I were talking baseball at recess. Everyone was saying who his favorite player was. The conversation went like this: Griffey…Griffey…Griffey, Griffey…Griffey…until our last friend defiantly said “Frank Thomas.” We all reacted like he’d told us he was going in for a sex change operation. Seriously.)

Everyone wanted to be like “The Kid.” Everyone in Little League, fought over who got to wear No. 24. Everyone wanted to play center field.

I dressed like him one Halloween. I even coaxed my parents into buying me an $80 Griffey jersey at Sports Authority one day (why I remember the price, I have no idea). I wore the jersey on the first day of school, and pretty much every day after that too, until someone made fun of me for wearing the same shirt everyday.

Looking back, it probably was a bit unhygienic, but you know what? I think that little prick was probably just jealous he didn’t have a Griffey jersey of his own.

At his peak Griffey was bigger than any baseball player is now, and it wasn’t even close. He was on Wheaties boxes. He was one of the first athletes to have his own video game (this seems minor now, but believe me in 1994 this was a big deal). I even remember re-arranging my schedule on a Monday night so that I could catch an episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air that he made a minor cameo on. In the episode Hilary went ga-ga over him.

No more so than every little kid in America did at the same time.

On the field, Griffey was that transcendent athlete who endeared himself to young and old, black and white, male and female. He always wore his trademark backwards hat, accompanied by a huge smile, and carried himself confidently without ever being cocky. For us young folks he hit enough home runs to keep us coming back to our TVs every time he came to bat, and for the baseball purists he played about as flawless a center field as you’ll ever see…

(To read the REMAINDER of this article, and read the rest of Aaron’s thoughts on his boyhood hero, please click HERE or visit Aaron at www.aarontorres-sports.com

Also, for Aaron’s thoughts on all things sports, be sure to follow him on Twitter @Aaron_Torres and Facebook.com/AaronTorresSports )

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Hey sports fans, wanted to let you know that this afternoon, I was lucky enough to sit down for an audio interview with my old buddy Tom Finn, formerly of CBS Sports.

Unfortunately, because it’s audio, I can’t post the interview here at Bleacher Report (My big time apologies), but just want to make everyone aware, and encourage you to check out my site www.aarontorres-sports.com .

It is a major comprehensive report on everything that’s happened so far, including:

Finn sharing INCREDIBLE insight on the biggest difference in the New York Mets from this year to last.

What’s going on in Boston?

Are the NL West leaders (Padres and Giants) for real?

Why Finn thinks that the best might be yet to come for the New York Yankees.

And much, much more.

Folks, if you’re a hardcore or casual baseball fan, or someone who is just getting into the season as the summer is starting, this is an absolute must listen!

Finn and I covered a lot, and I promise you won’t leave disappointed!

So click here or visit www.aarontorres-sports.com , to hear Tom Finn’s thoughts on the MLB season so far!

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com