Last night was one for the ages in men’s college basketball. No. 1 Kentucky squared off against No. 2 Michigan State, the earliest one-versus-two pairing in the history of college basketball, while fourth-ranked Duke played fifth-ranked Kansas. Fans like me salivated over the matchup that served as the big-stage unveiling of the much-hyped Jabari Parker. My ears are still ringing with the melodious sound of Dick Vitale’s raspy voice. For many, this would have been a fine showcase of the game of men’s college basketball being played at its highest level.
Thirteen months ago, I set a timer on my phone. It wasn’t reminding me to move my laundry over to the dryer and it wasn’t telling me that my time was up for that CS 107 practice final. It was a countdown to the start of the next NHL season, one that I started just minutes after the Sharks were eliminated from the playoffs.
It might sound crazy, but maybe Stanford, at least after freshman year, is a little too hard, a little too much work. Because if I, the kid who chose to drive 300 miles a day to watch baseball, can’t find the time to go to baseball games that are a three-minute bike ride away, there’s something wrong.
For the past two seasons, every time senior Mark Appel stepped out onto the mound on a Friday night and looked towards home plate, he saw dozens of scouts with radar guns pointed right at him. Appel was such a can’t-miss prospect that not a soul expected to see him back at Stanford for his senior year. But when Appel fell to the eighth overall pick of the Pittsburgh Pirates in Major League Baseball’s Draft this past June, everything changed.
The NHL has consistently been the odd black sheep of the “big” American sports leagues. The NFL owns Sundays, the MLB is the official league of “America’s pastime” and the NBA is where amazing happens. The NHL? Truthfully speaking, hockey has lacked a catchphrase in the modern Internet era.
Since 1987, the Cardinal has had 22 players picked in the first round of the MLB draft, and yet, the casual baseball fan would probably only know one or two of those 22 players
It’s the second week of April, which means March Madness and the Masters have given way to the start of baseball season. And that means it’s time for Jumping to Ridiculous Conclusions, Volume 2! Since I’m far too lazy to physically jump to these conclusions, here’s my second annual way-too-early MLB column.