Mike O'Connell

Every once in a while Jeopardy! jumps on to mainstream headlines and the general blogosphere, usually following someone who’s on a winning streak of note.

Enter James Holzhauer, the one-man wrecking crew who’s not only winning every night on Jeopardy! but just about bankrupting the enterprise in the process.

As of this writing Holzhauer has won 22 consecutive matches and tallied nearly $1.7 million. Among those 22 victories? The 12 highest single-game totals in the history of the show.

Yeah, he’s pretty good. What do you expect from a guy who’s job is “professional gambler”? (Yeah, that’s a job apparently. No less legitimate, I suppose, than professional game show contestant.)

One of the criticisms I’ve read about Holzhauer is that he’s just “too good” and makes the game uninteresting to watch. Yeah, Michael Jordan really made basketball unpopular, and after Babe Ruth nobody wanted to hit home runs anymore. You’re watching a master at work. Enjoy it.

And then I get looking at the Jeopardy! website again wondering when the next tryout is.

In case my career as a professional gambler doesn’t pan out.

In the midst of the NBA playoffs, the Kentucky Derby, the Bloom (look it up), May the Fourth, and Cinco de Mayo, we have this: Stephen Strasburg of my hometown Washington Nationals recorded his 1,500th career strikeout (in a victory last night), reaching the milestone faster than any pitcher in the history of the game.

Strasburg recorded K number 1,500 in inning number 1,272, 18 fewer than previous record holder Chris Sale. The top five fastest, incidentally, all pitched in this century, when pitchers log far fewer innings than in previous eras. (I’m pretty sure Cy Young pitched 1,200 innings in a single season once.) Still, a record is a record, and 1,500 strikeouts is 1,500 strikeouts.

Though for a little perspective, to match Nolan Ryan’s career total (5,714), Stras would have to pitch at this rate until he’s 52.

Snow.

Yeah. Legit snowstorms at the end of April. This is why I don’t live in Binghamton anymore, despite the draw of minor league baseball.

I’m happy to say the grounds crew at NYSEG Stadium was able to clear away enough of the white stuff to play a game on Saturday (actually two shortened ones). My son and I sat in the stands with about 26 other folks foolish enough to watch baseball in winter. The Rumble Ponies split the twin bill with the Portland Sea Dogs, both games ending 1-0. (The Ponies managed a total of one run on eight hits in three games against the Dogs.)

Sunday’s game?

Snowed out.

#binghamton

#classicbinghamton

There’s a newish program available on Netflix from American Masters, subject one Theodore Samuel Williams. You know him as Ted. The Greatest Hitter Who Ever Lived.

Basically the hour-long show is a Ken Burns documentary minus everything that isn’t about Ted Williams.

Oh, I’m not knocking it–I think it’s great.

As a matter of fact I’m waiting for the Ruth, Cobb, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Mantle, and Koufax versions as we speak.

Inspired by a certain Mr. Woods, I swung a golf club for the first time in about two years yesterday. Yeah, it wasn’t the Masters, only my local driving range, but still… it felt good. Every shot I hit: perfect. False confidence? Perhaps. But it did remind me of a television commercial from about 20 years ago.

I’m Tiger Woods.