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Welcome to my blog about Orioles past and present, the glorious past, the moribund present and the hope for a more promising future. 

My personal Orioles fan-dom reaches back to the mid 1960s, when I vaguely recall the 1966 World Champions in the dark recesses of my then 5-year old pre-dawn days as a baseball fan.  By 1968 my entire summer wardrobe was black and orange, and I have attended about a half-dozen World Series games over the years, notably including the ’70 and ’83 championship games.  I will blog more about the glory years, later.

I became spoiled. Naively I thought perennial contention would continue perennially.  Poor baseball decisions in the 1980s, such as bringing in Alan Wiggins, initially seemed aberrational rather than the harbingers for a more dismal future.  The 1990s pennant contenders – even the wire-to-wire team of ’97, seemed a surreal fiction as those accomplishments were with rented players developed by other organizations.

Cal Ripken aside, and more on my mixed thoughts on the streak later, The Oriole way was sadly a thing of the past. It has become fashionable in these parts to blame Angelos for all of the team’s  recent ills – Pete’s fandom is a contributing factor to be sure but the problems are more multifaceted and laying this all at ownership’s feet is far too simplistic.

The 2008 version may not be merely bad, but historically bad.  Reportedly, the Las Vegas over-under is around 64 wins; this seems quite generous.  For those who share any or all of these views, welcome. More to come on this.    

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2 comments

  1. mlbmark

    Welcome to MLBlogs! Good to see how you came into the game. It was a few years later for me…’69 World Series on a transistor radio being the first real awareness of the Majors for me. Looking forward to your posts and will nominate this for MLB.com excerpt consideration.

    Mark/MLB.com
    http://mlblogs.mlblogs.com

  2. oriolesmagic

    I attended Game 1 of the 1969 World Series, which was the only game we won. It was a bright, sunny warm early October Saturday afternoon. We sat along the third base line, in then-section 8 of Memorial Stadium, 5 to 10 rows back from the field.

    I was 8 years old. I remember seeing Joe Garagiola doing interviews along the warning track near the Orioles’ dugout. I also remember watching Tom Seaver warm up near the Mets dugout, and my Dad expressing concern over his fastball.

    The whole place was decked out in black-and-orange bunting. It really was special. Mike Cuellar pitched for us, and we won as I knew we would. Little did I know that would be all, and that I would need to wait until Spring 1970 for our next win.

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