Thanks, and Pass the Strudel

For Thanksgiving, a cornucopia of gratitude.

For Charlotte folks, I’ll be at the Morrison Place Barnes and Noble—this is the one right by Southpark Mall—on Saturday at 1 p.m. to talk some sports and sign WHY WE LOVE FOOTBALL and all my other books. Signed books, you know, make a great holiday gift! From what I can tell, it’s going to be a wonderfully chaotic and informal thing, so come on out, and it will be a lot of fun.

Today’s big correction was not technically a mistake but was, rather, a comically bad prediction. While talking about baseball free agents on Tuesday, I couldn’t help but guess that the Giants—so famously the team that finishes second in every free-agent race—would re-sign Blake Snell.

About 12 minutes later, Snell fled to the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Because, of course, he did.

The Dodgers’ presumptive pitching staff for 2025 is a confetti burst of possibilities: Shohei Ohtani! Blake Snell! Yoshinobu Yamamoto! Tyler Glasnow! Clayton Kershaw! Probably Rōki Sasaki!* Maybe Dustin May! Maybe Tony Gonsolin! Maybe Bobby Miller!

*I spent much longer than expected trying to figure out how to put that little line over the “O” in Rōki on my Mac. I came up with a workaround, but it isn’t great. Then I tried to put in a text replacement so anytime, I type Roki, it should come out Rōki… but it isn’t working. Roki! See? Not working.

If you want to play a fun game, try to predict how many of those pitchers will throw more than 140 innings in 2025. The answer was zero in 2024, of course. Only Glasnow (with a career-high 134 innings) and Snell (with 104) even made it into triple digits. In fact, only two of them have thrown 140 innings in a season in the majors THIS DECADE: Snell in his 2023 Cy Young year; Ohtani in his 2022 season.

The last of them to throw 200 innings in a season? That would be Clayton Kershaw in 2015, which is back before TikTok was launched and before Simone Biles had won any Olympic medals.

The Dodgers are the cutting edge of baseball’s most insistent trend: Starting pitchers exist to get you into the sixth inning with the lead. If they can get you into the seventh inning with the lead, they are unicorns. That’s the game now. Unless there’s a dramatic rule change and a major shift in the game’s incentives, that will be the game for the foreseeable future. The Dodgers’ entire goal in the 2025 season will be to get four or five of their dominant starters to October with elbows intact, and if they do, I just don’t see anybody beating them.

Meanwhile, the Giants finish second in the free agency derby again.

A couple other corrections/clarifications from yesterday:

• I originally wrote that the Cubs re-signed Cody Bellinger… they did not. Bellinger picked up his player option. The difference was reinforced on Monday when executives told Ken Rosenthal that the Cubs are talking about dealing Belli.

• I wrote a bit about how many eyes will be on the Boston Red Sox this offseason as we try to figure out if they’re back in the game of trying to actually compete or will continue to be content with mediocrity and a shiny prospect list. Well, it was reported in multiple places that the Red Sox are going hard after Juan Soto, which suggests that they’re either (A) serious about returning to their competitive selves, or (B) want to make it LOOK like they’re serious about returning to their competitive selves. We’ll see.

Sure, it’s a cliché, but it’s time again for me to give you a big ol’ mess of thankfulness. I started doing a Thanksgiving column back in Kansas City almost 30 years ago—was it really almost 30 years ago?—and it just kept growing and growing, because I have something of a thankfulness addiction. I thank people all the time, sometimes in the most inappropriate situations. Thank you for scanning my airline ticket! Thank you for handing me the food I ordered and paid for! Thank you for knocking on my door and trying to sell me new windows! Thank you for this $1-off-a-cookie coupon to the Barnes & Noble cafe that I will never use. Thank you for thanking me!

It’s just… I like feeling thankful. That’s a hard emotion to sum up, but it makes me feel good to think that people are mostly trying to help. When I ponder Buck O’Neil’s greatest strength—and this was a man overloaded with superpowers—I feel sure it was his unlimited capacity for believing in the good of people, no matter how many times they might have failed him.

He could not attend Sarasota High School. He could not try out for a major league team. When he broke through and became the first African American coach in the major leagues, they would not let him on the field. When his wife went shopping, she was not allowed to even try on a hat unless she bought it. Again and again, people showed Buck the worst sides of themselves, and yet he always believed—no, more than believed, he knew—that they were merely blind and would see the light if it was shined just so. He read the Bible daily, as you probably know, and one of his favorite verses was Isaiah 42:16:

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them.

I wish I had Buck’s faith in people. Sure, I also wish I could play chess like Magnus Carlsen, and I wish I could play the piano like Jon Batiste, and I wish I could write like Colson Whitehead or Alice McDermott, and I wish I could perform magic like Dani DaOrtiz, and I wish I could shoot like Caitlin Clark, and I wish I could tell jokes like Nate Bargatze, and I wish I could do a spot-on Rupert Murdoch impression like Seth Meyers, but, you know, we are mere mortals. Buck was one of a kind. I just feel a little bit closer to him when I thank people.

And so, here we go…

I’m thankful for apple strudel. Yeah, that’s a weird place to start, but last night we went to the “Light the Knights Festival”—a winter thing they do over at the minor league ballpark here in Charlotte—and there was ice skating and snow tubing and lots of holiday lights and numerous shops. Great fun! One of the shops, a mobile event concession place called the Village Bakery, was selling apple strudels, and we bought one, and I just had a part of it for breakfast, and it’s like one of the greatest things I’ve ever eaten. I don’t eat many sweets these days, one of the keys to dropping almost 70 pounds, but, wow, that was good.

I’m thankful to everybody who noticed that I dropped almost 70 pounds.

I’m thankful for super-professional sports announcers. There are any number I can mention, but I specifically thought about this over the weekend while listening to Ian Eagle call a football game. I always take Ian Eagle for granted. I think we all do. He has never been the biggest name in sports broadcasting, but, for more than 30 years now, he has simply been excellent, calling whatever sport he’s asked to call, delivering the big-game atmosphere that brings television sports to life.

I’m thankful that at a restaurant called the Fieldhouse in Toledo, they have an IPA called “The Devil Wears Hoodies.” I want to believe it’s about Bill Belichick—that looks like Bill Belichick on the can, no?

I’m thankful whenever the people around me—and particularly the person sitting in the window seat next to me—don’t just stand up all at once the instant the plane reaches the gate. Give it a second, OK? We’re not going anywhere. The doors aren’t even open.

I’m thankful for my little Hobonichi Techo planner, which I carry around with me everywhere. It’s the greatest. The thing fits in my back pocket (well, it comes in a couple sizes, but I like the small one), it has a full page for every day of the year (plus a bunch of bonus pages), the paper is awesome (fountain-pen friendly!) and I just feel happy writing in it. I feel happy looking at my day, scribbling down random thoughts, planning without the Google Calendar on my phone. Plus, on the bottom of every page of the Hobonichi is a Japanese quote or joke or piece of wisdom, and many of them are wonderfully baffling (or bafflingly wonderful), such as today’s:

“One night I was trying to get my one-year-old to sleep by pretending to be asleep myself. I could sense him close to me, and after a while he started patting my head awkwardly. Aw, cute, I thought, and opened my eyes. It was his foot.”

—Today’s Child

I’m thankful for all the friends I made on Twitter through the years. So many friends. It seems like half the people I spend time with these days I met on Twitter. Alas, I’m no longer there—I guess Twitter itself is no longer there—because it stopped being fun, and it stopped being an effective way to get the word out about what I’m doing, and I don’t see any other purpose. I’ve been trying BlueSky, and there’s a bit of the old spark there, maybe, but I honestly wonder if maybe that whole thing has just run its course. I don’t know. I’m thankful that Twitter existed, though.

I’m thankful that the new Joker movie bombed. I realize that’s a weird thing to be thankful for, and I certainly mean none of the participants ill will, but I just want to get some joy back into our comic books. I’m so exhausted by the darkness.

I’m thankful that Dave Roberts won another World Series.

I mentioned Dani DaOrtiz above. He’s the best thing going. Here are four minutes of pure joy for you.

And speaking of video, I’m thankful that my new buddy Ryan George is now doing videos where he’s making fun of big, dumb luxury homes. There’s a new one out, but here’s the original:

I’m thankful for people who stop to let you pet their dogs.

I’m thankful that our dog, Westley, has a toy that has been meaningful to him for probably 10 years. It’s less a “toy” than it is a piece of fabric. Years ago, we got him a little toy bagel made out of fabric. Dog toys make me so happy. Just yesterday, I was in a pet store looking at the various dog toys; several of them seemed to be under the category of “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got our dog toy beer cans and whiskey bottles so that it looks like she’s an alcoholic!” Anyway, Westley tore at that bagel toy for weeks until he was able to rip out the little fabric circle meant to represent cream cheese. He’s been playing with that same gross cream cheese fabric ever since. The other day, he was standing at the door barking. We had just let him out, so we couldn’t figure out what was happening. When we finally let him outside, he took a few steps, grabbed his cream cheese—which he had left outside—and came back in.

I cannot tell you how happy that makes me.

I’m thankful, as a father of two daughters in college, that college is so affordable… no, wait.

I’m thankful for the new Pearl Jam album, “Dark Matter”—well, sort of new, it came out in April—and how it reminds me of being young.

I’m thankful that Alabama is still in the SEC and Ohio State is still in the Big 10. It gives me comfort to know that some things remain. A friend and I spent like 20 minutes trying to remember which conference UCLA, Oklahoma, and Stanford are in now. I’m pretty sure we mixed them up. Of all the ways that college football has blown up over the last few years, the conference musical chairs game is the one that still throws me the most.

I’m endlessly thankful for Nikola Jokić… so utterly thankful that someone like him exists in the world. There’s a reasonable chance you haven’t heard much about him this year—his Nuggets are just kind of limping along—but he is averaging a triple-double: 29.7 points, NBA-leading 13.4 rebounds, 10.9 assists. The only two players who have ever averaged a triple-double over a full NBA season are Russell Westbrook and Oscar Robertson. Russ and Big O were athletic gods, right? Jokić is, um, not. And yet he might just be the best basketball player who ever lived. It’s endlessly joyful.

I’m thankful that the Detroit Lions might be the best team in football. I want this so badly for them.

I’m thankful for those peaceful moments when I’m writing with a fountain pen. Here are pens I would recommend, at a few price points:*

*When I can, I will link my favorite pen place, Good Postage here in Charlotte, even though the price might be a bit higher than you can get elsewhere. Good Postage is owned by a mother and daughter, and it’s a fantastic store, and I’d love for everybody to support them).

• Under $10: Platinum Preppy. If you want to go lower, you can get a Pilot Varsity for three bucks, and they’re great. But for $6 or so, the Preppy is a real fountain pen—meaning it’s not disposable, you can refill it—and it comes in a bunch of fun colors, and it’s just wonderful to write with.

• Under $25: Pilot Metropolitan. Well, you might have to spend a few dimes more than $25, but this is a fantastic writer and they look great. If you’re out somewhere and you pull out your Pilot Metropolitan, people will think you spent more than $25.

• Under $50: LAMY Safari. All the LAMYs are great—there are those who will tell you that the LAMY 2000 is the best fountain pen ever made—but I totally dig the Safari as just a fun pen. I just bought the Harry Potter collection of Safaris—one pen for each Hogwarts House.* They’re awesome.

• Under $75. TWSBI Mini. The TWSBI Diamond 580 is glorious and might be more your style, but I like it when my pen posts… meaning, I like to write with the cap on top of the pen. The Diamond 580 doesn’t post. The Mini does. But, seriously, you can’t go wrong with any of the TWSBIs—the ECO, the Vac700R, the GO, they’re all fantastic.

• Around $100. Kaweco Brass Sport Pen. I love this guy. The Kaweco Brass has some bulk to it, you feel like you’re writing with something that was found in a pirate’s treasure box.

• Around $150. Pilot E95S. When you start to get into fountain pens, you learn that the nibs are made of different materials—and the gold-nibbed pens are something you might want to try. The Pilot E95S is a wonder; it’s probably the cheapest gold-nib pen you can find; I’ve seen it out there for just over $100.

• Around $200. Pilot Vanishing Point. This is a whole lot of money, absolutely, but this is also currently my favorite fountain pen. A few weeks ago, a whole group of us were sitting around the table, and everybody was trying out the fountain pens I had brought, and each and every one of them stopped cold when trying out the Vanishing Point. Writing with it is like a dream.

*OK, so somebody taught me a trick for figuring out somebody’s Hogwarts House that has worked INCREDIBLY well. I mean, like, eerily well. I’ll give you the key down below, but now ask yourself or your friend this question: “You come upon a locked door. You want to get in. What do you do?”

I’m thankful as always for Margo Ann, Elizabeth Ann and Katherine Ruth, who never stop amazing me.

And finally, big finish, I’m thankful for Bill James’ books that I keep re-reading; insulated water bottles; doctors with open appointments; that photo of Bobby Orr flying by the net; Mike’s new show, “A Man on the Inside;” Linda Holmes’ always-brilliant Holiday Movie Guide (I’m going to see “Hot Frosty” for sure!); the Pongfinity guys on YouTube; really rich hot chocolate; the end of political commercials (for at least a few moments); the times that Josh Turner, Elle Cordova and Toni Lundgren do covers together like this one of “Long Time Gone…”

… good pizza; good bookstores; good wifi; good showers; good mail; dark chocolate; Shohei Ohtani; a package on the front doorstep; Bruce Springsteen; a handy pair of scissors; teachers; kids who have actually read all of The Baseball 100 (I’m in awe); tiny notebooks; Steph Curry; a Taylor song popping up in unexpected places; Etch-A-Sketches; wireless charging; the voice of Kevin Harlan; the voice of Bob Costas; the voice of Cynthia Erivo (somehow, impossibly, approaching the voice of Idina Menzel); all different definitions of “voice;” knapsacks; Reese’s cups; videos that show you how to shuffle dance (they make it look so easy!); people who serve; Patrick Mahomes; wireless printers that actually hook up to the internet; “Mister Rogers” repeats; chicken cacciatore; great last lines in movies; typewriters; and, of course, you for reading this, for sustaining me with your kindness, for allowing me to do this—the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.

And that leads us to my gift to you. I have now tried this FOUR times, and it has worked every time. Above, I told you to answer the question: You come upon a door. It is locked. You want to get in. What do you do?

If you answered, “Knock on the door,” you’re a Hufflepuff. Katie answered that way. Katie has long known she’s a Hufflepuff.

If you answered, “Go look for a key,” you’re a Ravenclaw. Margo answered that way. Margo has long known she’s a Ravenclaw.

If you answered, “Pick the lock,” you’re a Slytherin. Elizabeth answered that way. Lis has long known she’s a Slytherin.

And if you answered, “Knock the door down,” you’re a Gryffindor. I answered that way. I have no idea why I answered that way—I couldn’t knock any door down, even on a gingerbread house—but it was the first answer that came into my head, and, yes, I have long known that I’m a Gryffindor. In fact, I once had an exchange with Lin Manuel Miranda about him being a Slytherin and me being a Gryffindor. I wonder how Lin would answer the question.

Anyway, it’s 100% foolproof and… you’re welcome.