John Blanchette

Here in the outland, the Space Needle is regarded as the only dipstick capable of measuring Seattle’s smug self-importance – though an unnecessary one, since the city is never so much as a teaspoon low. But the next time your brother-in-law from Ballard is bashing you over the head with quality-of-life statistics, remind him of the election of ’09, when a mayor universally reviled around town seems likely to be returned to office for a third term even he doubts that he’s earned.

SEATTLE – OK, spend. Buy. Do it now. Go get some right-handed power or a No. 4 starter. Mortgage the farm system. Rent a veteran free-agent-to-be. Grab a fistful of Mr. Nintendo’s money and make it rain.

Uncle Vin, not one second, a day or a game goes by without thinking of you. Grandma says I remind her the most of you. Although it makes her cry, it makes me proud. I wish that I grow up to be half the man you were. I miss you, and every baseball game I play, every kid I throw out, is dedicated to you … who else? Dad taught me to hit, but he told us both that we were morons for going behind the plate. Thank you for teaching me more things in life than anyone I know. I love you more than anything. God bless you. – Little Vinnie DiFazio, age 15, Hampton, N.J., 2002 Vinnie DiFazio hit his first professional home run the other night, wearing a Spokane Indians uniform, in a tidy little stadium in Everett.

Russell Miller wondered if there was enough “then” in his football career to justify a “now” update. But if he didn’t play his way into the Hall of Fame during his days at Washington State, he can always talk about his brushes with greatness. That is, he could until now. “Students ask if I played with anybody famous,” said Miller, now a professor of law at Washington and Lee University. “For years I’d been saying ‘Drew Bledsoe.’ But this year, for the first time, a student said, ‘Who’s that?’

Austin, we hardly knew ye. In testing the National Basketball Association draft waters, Gonzaga’s Austin Daye is officially somewhere between a toe-dip and a cannonball, but there certainly is a damned big puddle on the pool deck.

The legacy has received a bum rap ever since Kent Dorfman pledged Delta Tau Chi, and our previous president didn’t help the cause, either. Still, what happened to Trent Arrivey seems a little harsh.

If a camel really is a horse designed by committee, that must make Stan Kerr responsible for getting him ready to run the Preakness. Kerr, the men’s track coach at Eastern Washington, is a new member of the NCAA Division I executive committee. No Selection Sunday clout here as in basketball; mostly the track group is tossed the hot potato that is the NCAA regional meet concept and told to come back with curly fries seasoned to everyone’s tastes.

The happy residue of both Gonzaga and Washington State picking this as their year to return to the NCAA baseball tournament after an extended hiatus is probability taking a beating all the way around. The Zags haven’t been in the Diamond Dance since 1981, the Cougs since 1990. So this is a convergence of the unlikely, and among the small wonderments nudging the story along are the cases of Jay Ponciano and Tyson Van Winkle.

SEATTLE – If shooting your age is the old golfer’s grail, is JUGSing twice your age nirvana for old pitchers? As Randy Johnson, another ancient Mariner of Seattle’s baseball past approaching a 46th birthday, faced Wladimir Balentien, representing the muddied future, the radar readings Friday night at Safeco Field were like crack for the midlife crisis set: 94, 94, 94. Finally, Balentien struck out on an 87 mph slider, just to show that pitching guile can be fun, too.