Happy Birthday - to me!

That's right, a shameless self promotion here as I turn another page on the calendar. I'm a true Taurus, stubborn as a mule. I share a birthday with many luminaries. Yogi Berra (it's just as good as money). Henry Cabot Lodge. Florence Nightingale. George Carlin (I will smoke some Toledo Windowbox in his honor). Our favorite ex-Nat FLop (29 today). And Tommy Lasorda's favorite, Kurt Bevacqua (listen to the tape if you haven't already).

I'll let you in on a secret. I'm not really 30, like I claimed on my Facebook page. Yeah, I know, I could pass for that. But it is a lie. I'm Fifty-Damn-53. I'm old, I'm fat, I'm bald, I'm cranky and I'm into the fourth quarter having used all my timeouts in the first half.

If I'm going to see a winner in my lifetime that isn't on ice skates, the Nats need to get busy.

Here's what the Nats can do to make this birthday a little better:

*Start Zimmermann tonight (done) and again Sunday so I can see him in person. Don't let the off day mess that up.

*Have that other Zimmerman extend to 30 early because I can't stay up late. I missed homer No. 2, the one that actually occured on my birthday. So it doesn't count. Hit another tonight, in my honor. Fetch the ball and give it to me this weekend.

*Rent a big comfortable vehicle. Buy a road map. Put Logan Kensing in the navigator's position and Daniel Cabrera in the driver's seat. I don't trust Cabrera to actually navigate. He can't find home plate and it's only 60 feet, 6 inches away. Point them on a slow trip to Syracuse, maybe via the northern Canada route.

*Buy a first class plane ticket for Tyler Clippard and Craig Stammen and tell them to meet you in San Francisco.

*Jesus Colome has to wait until my anniversary, which is Thursday. 31 years of marriage and I just turned 30? Huh? What?

*Win, which means Z-double-n probably has to go the distance, unless my new hero Ron Villone helps him out. Not sure I'm starting to like Villone more because he's getting people out or he's my age.

*S-t-r-a-s-b-u-r-g. Yes, I can wait until the actual draft.

No big plans on the big day, not until this evening anyway. I'll play some with the dogs, write a couple of freelance stories (becoming more self employed than unemployed every day), take a solid nap. Tonight, part of the northern branch of the family will meet us in Fredericksburg - STILL NOT HALFWAY - for dinner at what is becoming our birthday restaurant. I'm sure one of the new D.C. jersies is wrapped somewhere. I'll catch the extension of the streak and my personal home run on XM on the way home (had no idea until last night that Jon Miller was the Giants' radio guy).

53, it's the new 30.

LATE ADDITION TO THIS POST - Make sure you read this offering from Chico (the writer) on Nationals Journal. Must have been hard to write that. I know how close Chico is to his family. I sent him a private note of condolence and offer my public condolences here. Chico, I don't blame your grandfather for your baseball ability. One man can only do so much! I have no doubt he was proud of how you turned out - you do indeed throw strikes. Hang in man. Good work, too, by you and Zuckerman for calling out the no-talking, no-strike throwing Cabrera.