Is that the correct gambling jargon?
So after a morning laugh of perusal through the LancasterOnline message boards and a glance through the news, here are a handful of stories that piqued our interest this morning.
Somewhere faraway from here, the Phillies appear to have pretty much ironed out their 25-man roster a little more than a week before Opening Day. The biggest development, of course, was the trade of Ronny Paulino... on a Friday night... when people may (or may not) have had plans... because it couldn't have been taken care of on a casual Saturday afternoon.
Nevertheless, Paulino's ouster to San Francisco pretty much means Chris Coste will be the backup catcher for a third straight season. It also means that Lou Marson likely will be on the 25-man roster next season after his apprenticeship at Triple-A Lehigh Valley this season.
Then again, Coste has been really good at digging in his heels. A guy doesn't have a pro career like Coste without knowing the angles or how to compete. Chances are his next stop will be as starting catcher for the Yankees or something like that.
Now don't get me wrong, Coste is no shyster or some dude taking up a spot on the roster because he has dirty pictures of someone or can play the political game better than others. Far from it, because if that were the case why did it take until he was 33 to get into his first big-league game?
The fact is that despite his limitations as a catcher and a hitter, Coste has some intangible that can't be measured on a spreadsheet and quantified by a statistic. Besides, the best parts of baseball are the things that are not on the back of a baseball card.
So enjoy Coste while you can, Phillies fans. Nothing lasts forever, especially the careers of long-suffering backup catchers from Fargo, North Dakota.
Elsewhere, I kind of dug this story by Joe Posnanski about John Calipari. It made me think fondly about this moment:
Now I don't condone violence. Ever. But sometimes I can understand.
Today is the 30th Anniversary of the accident at Three Mile Island in Middletown, Pa., which remains as the worst nuclear accident in U.S. history.
These days those cooling towers have become part of our cultural wallpaper. They are pop, in a sense. Warhol could have colored them like he did those soup cans. Besides, it's very, very close to where I'm sitting right now - approximately 25 miles - and I even had the chance to play golf at the course adjacent to the TMI complex.
The grass was so green.
Anyway, at the time of the accident my family was living in Washington, D.C., but we were thousands of miles away on a trip out west. However, ask anyone from Central Pennsylvania or Washington what they were doing 30 years ago today and they'll have some stories for you.
Bags were packed, evacuation routes planned, contingencies were weighed, troops were on alert... just wild. Meanwhile, a guy named Ed Wickenheiser, an old-school newsman from Lancaster, rolled in to Middletown with a microphone and notebook as the first guy on the scene. When a story needs to be told, Ed runs toward it, not away.
Hard-nosed dude, that Ed Wickenheiser.
 No, it's definitely not the Flyers, though I'd listen to Jim Jackson and Keith Jones do play-by-play on a rash. Love those guys.
 I don't know if the posters are serious or goofing off, but it's some hilarious stuff. I hope it's just a bunch of people joking around because otherwise we should all be scared to death. But, if you're looking for a good laugh, check it out. The unintentional comedy is beyond Curt Schilling proportions.