George Sherrill, 2009 Topps Heritage #395

During the Orioles' Dark Ages, even All-Star week wasn't very fun. You usually didn't have a hometown guy to root for in the Home Run Derby; in 2007, when Nick Markakis led the team with a season total of 23 homers, he had a team-high nine at the All-Star Break. That doesn't get you an invite to the derby. The following year, weary O's fans had to wait until the 12th inning to see obligatory Baltimore representative George Sherrill (4.08 ERA, 1.42 ERA at the break) appear in the Midsummer Classic. It's still something of a surprise to see multiple Orioles as All-Stars, even though I know they're deserving. Adam Jones went hitless in two at-bats tonight, but Manny Machado turned heads with a warning-track fly ball against Clayton Kershaw in his first at-bat before driving in one insurance run in the seventh inning with a double against Francisco Rodriguez and subsequently scoring on a Prince Fielder sac fly. Manny also made a couple of sparkling defensive stops, naturally. Zach Britton pitched two-thirds of a scoreless inning in the sixth, striking out Bryce Harper in the process. No sign of Darren O'Day, but the American League is sitting on a 6-2 lead in the ninth inning. It looks like the O's will have home field advantage in the World Series.

George Sherrill, 2009 Upper Deck #37

Yet another disheartening side effect of the Orioles sustained residence in the basement of the American League: baseball card photos showing a beautiful yet sparsely populated Oriole Park at Camden Yards. I'm going to tomorrow night's series opener against the Angels. It might be my last visit of the 2011 season, and it's supposed to be cool and brisk, which will be a nice change of pace. Baseball gods willing, the Birds will send me and 15,000 to 20,000 of my closest friends home for the weekend on a high note.

George Sherrill, 2009 Topps Ticket to Stardom #48

Have you ever seen a card set that provided a more egregious example of phoning it in? Just looking at this thing puts me to sleep. I'm glad that I found most of the team set in a dime box at a card show (all but the rookie cards of David Hernandez and Koji Uehara), because I'd hate to spend any more than the bare minimum of money and effort on this lazy effort by Topps. And to think that this is the kind of thing they were churning out back when they still had competition for the baseball card collector's dollar.

One positive: the back of the card mentions George Sherrill's tightrope act against the Cubs in an interleague game on June 24, 2008. The O's lead had been cut to 7-5 in the eighth inning when Dave Trembley summoned his closer with the tying runs on base and two outs. Sherrill retired pinch hitter Matt Murton on a fly ball to left to preserve the lead for the time being. The Birds were quickly retired in the top of the ninth, sending "Flat Breezy" back to the mound in a save situation. In an all-too-typical performance, the lefthander made his fans and teammates sweat it out.

Geovany Soto and Ryan Theriot found holes in the infield with a pair of singles to bookend a five-pitch walk to Mark DeRosa. The bases were loaded with nobody out. I was sitting in my apartment exclaiming things that I wouldn't dare repeat. But apparently George had the Cubs right where he wanted them. Ronny Cedeno, pinch hitting for reliever Carlos Marmol, struck out swinging on three pitches. One down. Leadoff hitter Kosuke Fukudome took ball one and strike one before swinging through the next two offerings. Two down, and the tension in Wrigley Field was palpable. Eric Patterson (Corey's brother) was due up, but backup catcher Henry Blanco pinch hit. Strike one swinging. Strike two, called. Come on George, one more pitch! Ball one, just for a little bit more pressure. And...strike three, swinging! I would never have believed that anyone could put the winning runs on base and then strike out the side on 11 pitches to slam the door. In fact, the card back claims that Sherrill was only the sixth pitcher ever to perform that feat. Such was the maddening mystique of George Sherrill.

George Sherrill, 2009 Upper Deck O-Pee-Chee #398

The Orioles had the nerve to wait until I was on a plane bound for Atlanta to trade George Sherrill to the Dodgers for a pair of minor leaguers. So you get to hear my thoughts about the dearly departed closer nearly a week after the deal happened.

For all of the moaning and groaning about how Sherrill made ninth innings a little too interesting, he really turned things around and was exceptional for most of this year. Of course, that (and his reasonable contract) made him valuable, and there's still plenty of rebuilding to do in Baltimore. The O's finally got a viable third-base prospect in Josh Bell, even if he's still a year or two away. Steven Johnson is a solid if unspectacular pitching prospect and a good story (he's the son of former pitcher and current broadcaster Dave Johnson). Andy MacPhail did the right thing by selling high; now we just have to hope that Jim Johnson can close games (and someone else can replace Jim in the eighth inning).

Not only are we bidding goodbye to the tenth pitcher in team history to amass 50 saves, but we've lost one of the great characters of the team. George almost instantly drew attention from fans due to the way he wore his hat; he was called "Flat Brim" or "Flat Breezy" by some, and former teammate Kevin Millar dubbed him the "Brim Reaper". He took part in the sublime "Orioles Magic" music video, and displayed his dry wit in the "making of" video that was included on the Orioles Magic DVD giveaway. When Millar pointed out that the closely-shorn Sherrill looked like Vin Diesel, George shot back, "Vin Diesel looks like me." When I was at Camden Yards last week to see Chris Tillman's debut, there was a video board feature in between innings that involved various players giving dating advice. Their tips ranged from the conventional (Adam Jones suggested dinner and a movie) to the sarcastic (Brian Roberts claimed that showing a woman your baseball card collection would win her over) to the hilarious (Sherrill deadpanned "Snowcones.").

Is my final memory of George Sherrill in an O's uniform really the mental image of him sharing snowcones with a lady friend? Sure, why not? Best of luck to you in L.A., Georgie.

George Sherrill, 2009 Topps Retro #18

April is the absolute worst time of the year in my office. The phones are ringing, my inbox is popping on a regular basis, and the fax machines don't ever stop churning out paperwork for me to process. It's always freezing cold in that place, but for a few weeks I find myself flushed and sweating as I jump from one task to another. Yesterday I sat at my desk, sarcastically grousing about this and that, my boss just laughed and said that it sounded like I needed a vacation. It's easy for her to say; she's heading to New Orleans next week. No such luck for me; the carrot on the string is a weekend filled with a friend's wedding and a bus trip to a wrestling pay-per-view (more on that later).

As if this week weren't miserable enough, the weather has been awful in the mid-Atlantic. Temperatures have dropped into the 40s, and it's been raining steadily for the last two days. I certainly didn't expect to be bundling up in my ragged winter coat, scarf, and earmuffs after Easter. At 6:30 last night, I got off of the train and walked into a spitting rain that was so light, it was almost pleasant. At least that's what I tried to tell myself, since I'd left my umbrella in the office. I spent the short walk to my car imagining that it was July, and that I was back in Ocean City, feeling the salty spray of the Atlantic Ocean on my face.

Last summer, my family had barely unpacked three carloads of cargo at the two-story apartment we were renting on the Boardwalk when I compulsively flicked on the Orioles-Nationals game. In the 12th inning, the O's were on the verge of breaking their bizarre Sunday losing streak. George Sherrill, brought in to protect a 2-1 lead, got two quick outs before walking Dmitri Young. No worries, as he got two strikes on Ronnie Belliard in the blink of an eye. After an incredibly borderline pitch was called a ball, disaster struck. The next offering from the flat-billed Baltimore lefty was absolutely blasted over the left field fence. Game over. In another week and a half, the Birds would slip under .500 and keep sliding for the rest of the summer. Back in the moment, I was irate, and desperately casting about for a place to direct my anger. The umpire blew it by not ringing up Belliard on the previous pitch. Sherrill blew it by tossing such a meatball pitch on a 1-2 count. Belliard was a dirty, showboating so-and-so for posing at home plate to watch the flight of the ball before breaking into his trot. My vacation was off to a tainted beginning.

Fortunately, even I don't take baseball seriously enough to let it ruin an entire week at the beach. I spent the rest of my time there watching very little of the Birds (my sister got text-message updates every time the score changed anyhow) and getting plenty of sun, rest and relaxation, and refreshment. But George Sherrill plugged along, and has retained his closer's role into 2009 in spite of himself. Watching his half-cocked tightrope act over the past two nights, I alternated between hissed curses and frantic pleas to get just one more out, for the love of all that is holy. In the end, he (and his harried outfielders) did just enough to pull out a couple more surprising early-season wins. I have to admit that tonight I would kill to watch him work his terrifying magic, if only because it would mean that the O's weren't losing 15-4...ugh.

Is it July yet?

George Sherrill, 2008 Topps Updates and Highlights #

How was your Saturday? Improbably enough, mine included an audition for a MASN Orioles commercial. Several weeks ago, I was contacted by someone at MASN. Apparently, they were planning an ad campaign focusing on regular fans sharing their memorable Orioles (and Nationals, ehh) moments. I'd participated in a discussion thread at Camden Chat on just that very topic, and they liked my response enough to bring me in for the audition. So at noon today, I dolled myself up in my new "Baltimore" road jersey and my Angry Bird hat and drove up to Fall Road to the studio. I got a bit flustered because I had trouble finding the building (poor signage), which made me a few minutes late. But it turned out that they weren't ready for me yet, so I had a chance to sit in the waiting room and gather myself.

When I got there, there was an older man in Nationals gear ahead of me. We talked baseball for a bit. His memorable moment was Ron Belliard's walkoff home run against George Sherrill, which I remembered all too well. It was another crushing loss during the O's inexplicable streak of Sunday defeats, and I was watching it on TV at our hotel in Ocean City. Not the best start to vacation. While we waited, the woman who had signed us in passed out our checks. I was thrilled with the promise of $150 just for showing up and talking about the Orioles; I would have done it for free. (I can safely say that now that I have the check!) Shortly after I arrived, another young guy with an orange Orioles warmup jersey bustled in. He sat next to me and I happened to mention that I'd been contacted after posting on Camden Chat. It turned out that this guy, whose name was Joe, was a fellow Camden Chatter! With that as an icebreaker, we passed the time chatting about the O's and football. After about an hour, I got called in to face the casting tribunal.

My jersey got some attention right away, as one of them mentioned to the others that the jersey should definitely be in the wardrobe for the commercial shoot (scheduled for mid-February), because it's part of the new uniform, and the "Baltimore" across the chest hasn't been there for 20 years and it's "a big deal". I just couldn't help myself, and I piped up that it was more like 35 years. First, Peter, who was operating the camera and doing most of the talking and instructing (and whose name was the only one I remembered), prompted me to tell my story. I'd rehearsed it in my head all week, going to Baseball Reference to fact-check the little details.

It was June 19, the final game of a six-game interleague homestand in which the Birds had come from behind to win four of the first five. (They'd also battled back from 4-0 in the one loss before dropping it in extra innings.) The point was that I believed, for the first time in years, that they could win any game, no matter what the circumstances. After falling behind 2-0 early in this one, they used three home runs to take a 7-3 lead going into the ninth inning. Dennis Sarfate loads the bases with one out, and George Sherrill is brought in to save the day. I turn up the bill of my hat to flatten it, for good luck. He coaxes a fly ball for the second out. So it's 7-4 and Miguel Tejada is up. He singles, it's 7-5 and I start to sweat it. Lance Berkman, one of the best hitters in the National League, is up representing the winning run. George gets two quick strikes and Camden Yards comes alive. I'm on my feet now, whipping my hat around in my hand (here I act it out), chanting, "Sweep! Sweep! Sweep!" Sure enough, it's a shallow fly ball to left, Jay Payton camps out under it, and makes the catch. Game over!

Okay, I wasn't quite that verbose, but it was close. They seemed impressed with my level of recall, so I admitted that I'd checked up on myself. Now Peter helped me condense it to the meat and potatoes, essentially jumping to the two-strike pitch. Then he asked me to work with a crude script centered around the previous Friday's game against the Pirates. It was a bit strange, since it was a moment someone else had submitted. He had me improvise a scenario in which I watched the game with a friend who was down on the Orioles and giving me a hard time about them falling behind 6-0. There was some youthful banter he was looking to get, probably trying to place me in a "smack-talking young guys" demographic. I was encouraged to get fired up, and to use colloquialisms like "Dude". I pushed through it a few times, feeling a little more awkward and less genuine, but I realize that if I get the commercial I'm not going to be doing 100% of my own material. As we wrapped up, Peter tossed out a few shouts of elation that I might want to work in, and I took his cues. Caught up in the moment, I let out a loud hoot of joy, which is the sort of thing that I really would do if the O's pulled out a big win, regardless of whether I was at the stadium or in front of the TV. That got a good laugh from the group, and I hope it was a good note to leave on.

There are more auditions next weekend, and I assume that I'll know the verdict shortly thereafter. For now, it looks like my acting background and my obsession with sports have intersected in an unexpected way.