Enjoy Peter Pascarelli's grumpy old man act on the Baseball Podcast while you can, because if anyone from management ever listens to it, he's going to be out the door and on the Merritt Parkway faster than you can say "Free Harold Reynolds". His obvious disdain for meaningless matchups, bad teams that aren't trying, ESPN's television scheduling practices and the ways in which he's forced to try to drum up artificial interest in certain matchups aren't even the least bit hidden any more. Pascarelli's analysis is sometimes straight off the Tracy Ringolsby shelf of the supermarket, but it's obvious he loves baseball deeply and cares about what he's putting out there. If they do can him, it will be a bigger loss than one might think.
***
Can Doug Gottlieb please stop talking about baseball? Please?
***
Have there been any actual episodes of "Tirico and Van Pelt" that featured both Tirico and Van Pelt at the same time? Michelle Tafoya is in there more than either of them.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Giant Steps Backwards
So the Giants have suspended Plaxico Burress for two weeks (one game, one bye) for missing a day of practice and not providing a sick note from Mom. This, of course, has set off the hooey detector of every journalist and blogger in the tri-state area. You don't suspend your number 1 receiver for two weeks over something like that; clearly there must be something else going on here. Throw in the lingering bad blood from Plex's contract squabbles over the summer, not to mention a lingering bad rap from his college days (one article I read back in the day quoted an unnamed Michigan State coach as having warned teams not to draft Burress) all add an irresistable undercurrent of "what really happened" to the story. Cris Carter didn't help when he suggested that if it had been him, the Vikings would have gotten him some help, thus implying that there was something medical or psychological going on here.
Whatever the story behind the suspension, this is a bit like college coaches suspending star players for the first two games of the season after they've been caught molesting underaged llamas in a gas station parking lot. What always gets forgotten in the approving articles talking about what stern discipline this shows is that those first two games are against Southwest Rhode Island Welding Institute and Our Lady Of the Sacred Heart's School For Girls-Monroe, and that the hyper-talented quadruped enthusiasts will be back in time for the games where their presence actually matters. This is in large part a PR move to show that Tom Coughlin by God does have control of this team, even as the team risks very little by sitting one of its best players.
Whatever the story behind the suspension, this is a bit like college coaches suspending star players for the first two games of the season after they've been caught molesting underaged llamas in a gas station parking lot. What always gets forgotten in the approving articles talking about what stern discipline this shows is that those first two games are against Southwest Rhode Island Welding Institute and Our Lady Of the Sacred Heart's School For Girls-Monroe, and that the hyper-talented quadruped enthusiasts will be back in time for the games where their presence actually matters. This is in large part a PR move to show that Tom Coughlin by God does have control of this team, even as the team risks very little by sitting one of its best players.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Yankee Stadium, RIP
It's over. The last baseball game in Yankee Stadium history is done, and now all that's left is the endless eulogizing. The game itself was fairly ho-hum, with the Yankees thumping the Orioles disinterestedly. No doubt tons will be written about how on the last night of the old Stadium, Alex Rodriguez wasn't clutch (0-2 with 2 walks), on the irony of Interchangeable Molina #2 hitting the last home run in Yankee Stadium history, and on how Mariano Rivera shut the door one last time. I suspect there will be rather less written about how Derek Jeter struck out with the bases loaded, failing to make a statement other than that for this year's team, it's over.
There's been a lot of ink spilled over why the schedule came out the way it did. Why the Orioles? Why not the Red Sox? Why not the last day of the season? The suspicious part of me that writes technothriller video games has a possible answer: MLB wanted the drama of Yankees-Red Sox for the last weekend of the season, not knowing that this was finally the year that the Yankees' habit of patching their rotation with duct tape, baling wire, and Aaron Small wouldn't pay off. MLB also wanted to make sure that the Yankees closed down their venerable home park with a win, with Rivera on the mound and "Enter Sandman" rocking the joint.
One more thing: they also saw that the Orioles were going to be bloody terrible. In other words, MLB did the equivalent of lining up Duke (or maybe Temple, or Louisiana-Monroe) for homecoming, doing the closest thing possible to guaranteeing the Yankees a win for that last, nostalgia-inducing game. How embarrassing would it have been for the last game at Yankee Stadium to have featured Dustin Pedroia getting revenge for Bucky @#$#ing Dent, a few Youkilis base knocks, and Papelbon slamming the door?
To quote Mike Shropshire, "We can't have that sort of thing." So far better the Orioles as victim, then. The Yankees win, the Sox close the season against the hated Yanks, Yankee Stadium goes out with a bang, and everyone's happy, even the Orioles, who get to say they were part of history.
There's been a lot of ink spilled over why the schedule came out the way it did. Why the Orioles? Why not the Red Sox? Why not the last day of the season? The suspicious part of me that writes technothriller video games has a possible answer: MLB wanted the drama of Yankees-Red Sox for the last weekend of the season, not knowing that this was finally the year that the Yankees' habit of patching their rotation with duct tape, baling wire, and Aaron Small wouldn't pay off. MLB also wanted to make sure that the Yankees closed down their venerable home park with a win, with Rivera on the mound and "Enter Sandman" rocking the joint.
One more thing: they also saw that the Orioles were going to be bloody terrible. In other words, MLB did the equivalent of lining up Duke (or maybe Temple, or Louisiana-Monroe) for homecoming, doing the closest thing possible to guaranteeing the Yankees a win for that last, nostalgia-inducing game. How embarrassing would it have been for the last game at Yankee Stadium to have featured Dustin Pedroia getting revenge for Bucky @#$#ing Dent, a few Youkilis base knocks, and Papelbon slamming the door?
To quote Mike Shropshire, "We can't have that sort of thing." So far better the Orioles as victim, then. The Yankees win, the Sox close the season against the hated Yanks, Yankee Stadium goes out with a bang, and everyone's happy, even the Orioles, who get to say they were part of history.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Stunning College Football Developments
I'm not sure which blows my mind more - the fact that Duke hung 41 on Navy, or that Auburn won a 3-2 pitchers' duel.
USC's thrashing of Ohio State? To be expected, considering that OSU was without its best weapon, and was heading into the game with no clear solution at quarterback. Oregon's comeback win at Purdue? Stirring, but the game never should have been close in the first place. East Carolina's close call with Tulane? Predictable as a letdown for the Pirates, considering their last two weeks. And BYU's unholy whupping of UCLA? Funny, the since-departed Mr. Dorrell doesn't look so bad now, does he?
And in the slow-motion "all time winningest coach" throwdown, Bobby Bowden stayed even with Joe Paterno as his FSU team pasted Championship Subdivision stalwart Chattanooga by 39 points. Penn State, meanwhile, whooped up on another overmatched opponent, the difference being that Syracuse is at least supposed to try to pretend to be a I-A program in its better moments. We are a long, long, long way from the days of Donovan McNabb and Don McPherson.
USC's thrashing of Ohio State? To be expected, considering that OSU was without its best weapon, and was heading into the game with no clear solution at quarterback. Oregon's comeback win at Purdue? Stirring, but the game never should have been close in the first place. East Carolina's close call with Tulane? Predictable as a letdown for the Pirates, considering their last two weeks. And BYU's unholy whupping of UCLA? Funny, the since-departed Mr. Dorrell doesn't look so bad now, does he?
And in the slow-motion "all time winningest coach" throwdown, Bobby Bowden stayed even with Joe Paterno as his FSU team pasted Championship Subdivision stalwart Chattanooga by 39 points. Penn State, meanwhile, whooped up on another overmatched opponent, the difference being that Syracuse is at least supposed to try to pretend to be a I-A program in its better moments. We are a long, long, long way from the days of Donovan McNabb and Don McPherson.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Turnabout
So the Yankees - the fourth-place Yankees - get to watch the Angels celebrate clinching in front of them. One gets the feeling that George Steinbrenner is stirring uneasily in his sleep, much like unto a Lovecraftian abomination woken from aeons of deathless slumber to visit devastation on the world when suitably provoked by dire circumstance.
Seriously. Just add a few tentacles, maybe an apostrophe and some commas, and it's perfect. Perfect.
Seriously. Just add a few tentacles, maybe an apostrophe and some commas, and it's perfect. Perfect.
Monday Night Football
Memo to Oakland - tackling is still part of the game. The last time I saw that many slapdash arm tackles attempted, it was playing flag football at nerd camp the summer after ninth grade.
Correction - the nerds occasionally hit somebody.
For whatever it's worth, JaMarcus Russell looked pretty good for a guy stuck on the bilge deck of the Andrea Doria. Nice zip on his passes, good feet, a good sense of his receivers, and if Donald Curry had any sense of what to do with a football once it hits you in the hands, the final score might have been a lot closer.
That being said, the Raiders' defense went past "dire", took a sharp left at "nonexistent", and finally found itself a nice place to park at "abyssmal". If they don't figure out how to tackle - and what has the NFL come to when the Raiders can't tackle - it's going to be a really ugly year.
Correction - the nerds occasionally hit somebody.
For whatever it's worth, JaMarcus Russell looked pretty good for a guy stuck on the bilge deck of the Andrea Doria. Nice zip on his passes, good feet, a good sense of his receivers, and if Donald Curry had any sense of what to do with a football once it hits you in the hands, the final score might have been a lot closer.
That being said, the Raiders' defense went past "dire", took a sharp left at "nonexistent", and finally found itself a nice place to park at "abyssmal". If they don't figure out how to tackle - and what has the NFL come to when the Raiders can't tackle - it's going to be a really ugly year.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Billy Wags
As a rule, I don't like to wish injury on my fellow human beings, or to take pleasure in their physical pain. On the other hand, while Billy Wagner might not be the exception to the rule, he's close. For a guy who does an awful lot of barking about how his teammates aren't pulling their weight or stepping up in big games, Wagner has a fairly spectacular record of pitching with both hands around his throat when he's on the big stage. Phillies fans remember his double el foldo against Houston in 2005 with hatred and heartache; other baseball afficionados may be surprised to learn that the pride of Ferrum College has a lifetime line of 1-5, with an 8.71 ERA in 11 games. Even if you chalk it up to small sample size theater, that small sample is positively chunky with bad pitching.
So it gives me no small pleasure to think that last year, with the gritty, gamery Wagner, the Mets collapsed like a cheap subdivision in a Carl Hiaasen novel, and that this year, it looks like they'll take the division without him. That, as they say, has got to sting.
So it gives me no small pleasure to think that last year, with the gritty, gamery Wagner, the Mets collapsed like a cheap subdivision in a Carl Hiaasen novel, and that this year, it looks like they'll take the division without him. That, as they say, has got to sting.
On the other hand...
...when you're throwing Johann Santana out there, you don't need a lot of bullpen help.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Through Seven...
...in the first game of the Philles-Mets day-night doubleheader, Pedro Martinez has given up six runs. The muich-malighed Mets' bullpen? Zero. Sometimes the storylines and the facts don't jibe.
More interesting is the fact that Mets manager Jerry Manuel seems intent on playing lefty-righty matchups, even with his team down six and another game to go today. With the insertion of Nelson Figueroa to start the 8th, that's 5 relievers used after the Mets dug themselves a 6-0 hole. Would it perhaps have made more sense to throw one guy out there to take one for the team, and save the pen for the nightcap? Even if the Mets somehow manage to steal this one, they're still going to be hurting for relievers in game 2.
Meanwhile, the ageless (mandatory adjective) Jamie Moyer has gone seven for the Phils, with a top pitch velocity of 14 MPH. All hail the pride of Souderton.
More interesting is the fact that Mets manager Jerry Manuel seems intent on playing lefty-righty matchups, even with his team down six and another game to go today. With the insertion of Nelson Figueroa to start the 8th, that's 5 relievers used after the Mets dug themselves a 6-0 hole. Would it perhaps have made more sense to throw one guy out there to take one for the team, and save the pen for the nightcap? Even if the Mets somehow manage to steal this one, they're still going to be hurting for relievers in game 2.
Meanwhile, the ageless (mandatory adjective) Jamie Moyer has gone seven for the Phils, with a top pitch velocity of 14 MPH. All hail the pride of Souderton.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Pedro, Part II
Let me state up front that the notion of athletes making "too much money" is, as Joe Sheehan noted, ridiculous. They get paid what the market suggests they get paid. "Too much" is a fiction invented by ownership, which would rather not see that lucre heading out the door, and one which finds a willing and sympathetic audience in the fan base that will never see even a fraction of the average first round pick's signing bonus in their annual take-home pay. What's left unspoken there is that if the player isn't getting that money, the owner is - the front office guys and other team staff sure as hell aren't - and with the possible exception of a full blown Steinbrenner or Cuban freakazoid, nobody comes to the game to see the owners. Furthermore, the owners aren't the ones with limited earning windows, aren't the ones risking career-ending injury out on the field, aren't the ones actually entertaining the fans who buy the tickets and jerseys and bobblehead dolls.
Now, if you ask whether it's fair that the very top tier of athletes get paid far more than people with more dangerous or "worthwhile" jobs, well, that's a whole other question. But the fact remains that me and thee are willing to fork out a couple of hundred bucks for a night at the ballpark, but we'd scream bloody murder if that same amount got tagged to our tax bill to pay firefighters, or cops, or teachers, or EMTs. It's not fair, but we're all complicit.
Which brings us to Pedro Alvarez, and the knee jerk "how dare his agent ask for more money when he hasn't proven anything!" Which is, again, hogwash. Boras has the right to ask for anything that he can get for his client. After all, he may never see a payday like this again; why shouldn't he shoot for the moon? Who among us would honestly do differently? Even the best and most durable players don't sign that many contracts during their careers. As such, it's only sense to try to maximize each contract, including the first one. And as for the notion that he hasn't proven anything, well, he's proven enough to get picked at the top of the draft. By the "he hasn't proven anything" logic, nobody's first job should pay them anything above the minimum. Real jobs don't do this of course, for various reasons - employee happiness, employee retention, attracting the best talent, and so forth. Why, then, shouldn't baseball teams use the same logic?
So, the "he doesn't deserve the money" logic gets demolished. What's still out there is whether Boras is playing by the rules, letter if not spirit. And that, well, that's something interesting. Near as I can tell, what happened is that Boras got cute in not negotiating until the last minute, the Pirates went around him, Boras lost face, and now he's trying to regain it as he and the Pirates trade threats. For Boras, what's at stake is not his chunk of the extra $200K or so he's trying to get for Alvarez; it's face. He wants to make the Pirates pay for going around him; he wants to be able to say he got his client the best deal. Imagine Tom Cruise in a fat suit dancing to Ludacris while reading any Boras pronouncement, and you've pretty much got it. Meanwhile, the Pirates may or may not have played fast and loose with the rules and may or may not lose their first round pick, Alvarez has now crossed both his agent and his employer, and really, there's no way this comes out well for anyone.
Did Boras have the right to try to get his client the most money possible? Absolutely. By the same token, Alvarez is his client, and if the client says "this is what I want," then it's Boras' job to get it done. It's not within his rights to jeopardize his client's career or happiness for his own ends, and odds are that future draft picks are watching this and going "Hmmm."
Now, if you ask whether it's fair that the very top tier of athletes get paid far more than people with more dangerous or "worthwhile" jobs, well, that's a whole other question. But the fact remains that me and thee are willing to fork out a couple of hundred bucks for a night at the ballpark, but we'd scream bloody murder if that same amount got tagged to our tax bill to pay firefighters, or cops, or teachers, or EMTs. It's not fair, but we're all complicit.
Which brings us to Pedro Alvarez, and the knee jerk "how dare his agent ask for more money when he hasn't proven anything!" Which is, again, hogwash. Boras has the right to ask for anything that he can get for his client. After all, he may never see a payday like this again; why shouldn't he shoot for the moon? Who among us would honestly do differently? Even the best and most durable players don't sign that many contracts during their careers. As such, it's only sense to try to maximize each contract, including the first one. And as for the notion that he hasn't proven anything, well, he's proven enough to get picked at the top of the draft. By the "he hasn't proven anything" logic, nobody's first job should pay them anything above the minimum. Real jobs don't do this of course, for various reasons - employee happiness, employee retention, attracting the best talent, and so forth. Why, then, shouldn't baseball teams use the same logic?
So, the "he doesn't deserve the money" logic gets demolished. What's still out there is whether Boras is playing by the rules, letter if not spirit. And that, well, that's something interesting. Near as I can tell, what happened is that Boras got cute in not negotiating until the last minute, the Pirates went around him, Boras lost face, and now he's trying to regain it as he and the Pirates trade threats. For Boras, what's at stake is not his chunk of the extra $200K or so he's trying to get for Alvarez; it's face. He wants to make the Pirates pay for going around him; he wants to be able to say he got his client the best deal. Imagine Tom Cruise in a fat suit dancing to Ludacris while reading any Boras pronouncement, and you've pretty much got it. Meanwhile, the Pirates may or may not have played fast and loose with the rules and may or may not lose their first round pick, Alvarez has now crossed both his agent and his employer, and really, there's no way this comes out well for anyone.
Did Boras have the right to try to get his client the most money possible? Absolutely. By the same token, Alvarez is his client, and if the client says "this is what I want," then it's Boras' job to get it done. It's not within his rights to jeopardize his client's career or happiness for his own ends, and odds are that future draft picks are watching this and going "Hmmm."
Friday, August 29, 2008
Chris Coste Interview
Over at my regular blog, I run an irregular series of short interviews with various writers. The latest victim? Phillies catcher and author Chris Coste. Enjoy...
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Pedro, Part I
Last night's line for Pedro Martinez:
5 IP, 5 R, 5 ER, 7 H, 2 BB, 8K, 2 HR
Last night's line for the Mets' much-maligned bullpen:
7.1 IP, 3 R, 3 ER, 12 H, 4 BB (including 2 IBB), 8 K, 0 HR
The pen may have blown a 2 run lead. But Pedro's the one who let it get whittled down to 2 from 7. Or, to put it another way, the pen's ERA last night was 3.68. Pedro's was 9.00.
Then again, who cares when we've got media tropes to cling to.
5 IP, 5 R, 5 ER, 7 H, 2 BB, 8K, 2 HR
Last night's line for the Mets' much-maligned bullpen:
7.1 IP, 3 R, 3 ER, 12 H, 4 BB (including 2 IBB), 8 K, 0 HR
The pen may have blown a 2 run lead. But Pedro's the one who let it get whittled down to 2 from 7. Or, to put it another way, the pen's ERA last night was 3.68. Pedro's was 9.00.
Then again, who cares when we've got media tropes to cling to.
Nein! Nein! Nine!
Can we please stop turning the New Haven little league mess into some kind of political referendum?
The kid was too good for his competition. Fine. Bump him up a league and there you go. Every issue of ESPN has some story or other about a famous pro athlete who was too good for his middle school/age group/junior varsity, wasn't allowed to play with kids his own age, and had to play with the big kids. It happens all the damn time with no fuss and bother.
Except, of course, that the kid's coach decided to defy the league mandate and pitch the kid anyway. It's not like they said he couldn't play; he was doing just fine at second base. But this wannabe Billy Martin decided that he was going to go all Buford Pusser on the little league - which, last time I checked, was about the kids - and when he broke the rules, the other team got pulled off the field.
So I don't particularly blame the league. I certainly don't blame the kid. I don't particularly blame the coaches of the other team, who, when confronted with an act showing calculated disdain toward the dictates of the volunteer group they were all working for. I do blame the coach, whose need to win appears to have reached such a pathological level that he decided his need to have this kid pitch for him was more important than the entire league.
And it's nothing more than that. So the talking heads who were doomsaying about how this was a result of "everyone gets a prize for participating" culture while waxing rhapsodic about how they all got taken out for ice cream after their games, win or lose, well, they can put a sock in it until they can find irony with something other than a magnet.
The kid was too good for his competition. Fine. Bump him up a league and there you go. Every issue of ESPN has some story or other about a famous pro athlete who was too good for his middle school/age group/junior varsity, wasn't allowed to play with kids his own age, and had to play with the big kids. It happens all the damn time with no fuss and bother.
Except, of course, that the kid's coach decided to defy the league mandate and pitch the kid anyway. It's not like they said he couldn't play; he was doing just fine at second base. But this wannabe Billy Martin decided that he was going to go all Buford Pusser on the little league - which, last time I checked, was about the kids - and when he broke the rules, the other team got pulled off the field.
So I don't particularly blame the league. I certainly don't blame the kid. I don't particularly blame the coaches of the other team, who, when confronted with an act showing calculated disdain toward the dictates of the volunteer group they were all working for. I do blame the coach, whose need to win appears to have reached such a pathological level that he decided his need to have this kid pitch for him was more important than the entire league.
And it's nothing more than that. So the talking heads who were doomsaying about how this was a result of "everyone gets a prize for participating" culture while waxing rhapsodic about how they all got taken out for ice cream after their games, win or lose, well, they can put a sock in it until they can find irony with something other than a magnet.
ZOMG Replay
So exactly how many disputed home run calls are there in a given game, anyway? A given week? Two? Three?
Yeah, that's going to slow down games a lot.
Sigh.
Yeah, that's going to slow down games a lot.
Sigh.
All Hail Uncle Cholly!
First things first: The Phillies had absolutely no business winning this one. Down 7-0? Forget it.
Except they clawed back into it, keyed by the suddenly rejuvenated Jimmy Rollins, and took it in deep extras, with Kyle Kendrick warming up in the pen. And the key? Charlie Manuel's willingness to go unconventional with his bullpen. Specifically, he didn't save closer Brad Lidge for the mythical lead the Phillies might never get. (Not to put too fine a point on it, but in extra innings, there are no save opportunities for the home team.) No, Uncle Cholly sent Lidge out there in the 9th, down by a run and desperately needing to keep the gap from getting any bigger, and Lidge delivered.
And Rollins? On fire. Three steals, five hits, a homer...that's a couple of mighty impressive games he's strung together.
Ladies and Gentlemen, your first-place Philadelphia Phillies.
Except they clawed back into it, keyed by the suddenly rejuvenated Jimmy Rollins, and took it in deep extras, with Kyle Kendrick warming up in the pen. And the key? Charlie Manuel's willingness to go unconventional with his bullpen. Specifically, he didn't save closer Brad Lidge for the mythical lead the Phillies might never get. (Not to put too fine a point on it, but in extra innings, there are no save opportunities for the home team.) No, Uncle Cholly sent Lidge out there in the 9th, down by a run and desperately needing to keep the gap from getting any bigger, and Lidge delivered.
And Rollins? On fire. Three steals, five hits, a homer...that's a couple of mighty impressive games he's strung together.
Ladies and Gentlemen, your first-place Philadelphia Phillies.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
God, No!
MLB Trade Rumors is speculating that the recently released Mike Lamb could be a good pickup for the Phillies, who recently ran ex-Expo Andy Tracy out there for his first major league AB since 2004.
To which all I can say is "things aren't that bad, are they?"
To which all I can say is "things aren't that bad, are they?"
A Nod to the Big Guy
Generally, I find Hall of Fame debates to be silly. They're a great way to fill up column inches, but the guys doing the voting generally don't read those columns, and so they end up being a way to incite readers to frothing because their favorite players have been left out of the discussion. Never mind that those guys might be bobblehead-worthy at best; everyone's got rabid supporters who want to be heard RIGHT NOW. These are the folks who think that Omar Vizquel holds a candle to Ozzie Smith; who think Don Mattingly = Lou Gehrig, who are thumping that Jeff Reardon candidacy (and yes, they're out there) as hard as they can.
But tonight, I join them when I say Jim Thome is a Hall of Famer. 535 homers, no matter what era, matters. Say what you want about the time in which he played, you still don't see a lot of guys zooming past ol' double-X in the career homers rankings. Besides, there's never even been a whiff of performance enhancers associated with Thome; the dude's just big.
The arguments against him, near as I can tell, consist of A) He played at a time when lots of people hit home runs, B) he played lousy defense before he was a DH and C) he's not David Ortiz. The only answers to this are So, Yeah, and So what? The guy has hit 535 home runs, and he's not done yet. He has taken reasonable doubt and clubbed it into the fourteenth row of the left-center field bleachers. Based purely on the merits of his career, he should go in.
Of course, he won't be judged just on those merits. He'll be dinged for relatively few postseason appearances. He'll get nicked for relatively low batting averages and MVP election results. He was never flashy, but he always was good, and Dewey Evans and Bert Blyleven and Ron Santo can tell you that's no way to get into the Hall of Fame.
But he's hit 535 homers, and he's not slowing down much. It's a cold hard number that even the Bill Plaschkes of the world can understand (assuming it's presented in a one-sentence paragraph), and it's a number that says "I'm one of the best. Ever."
But tonight, I join them when I say Jim Thome is a Hall of Famer. 535 homers, no matter what era, matters. Say what you want about the time in which he played, you still don't see a lot of guys zooming past ol' double-X in the career homers rankings. Besides, there's never even been a whiff of performance enhancers associated with Thome; the dude's just big.
The arguments against him, near as I can tell, consist of A) He played at a time when lots of people hit home runs, B) he played lousy defense before he was a DH and C) he's not David Ortiz. The only answers to this are So, Yeah, and So what? The guy has hit 535 home runs, and he's not done yet. He has taken reasonable doubt and clubbed it into the fourteenth row of the left-center field bleachers. Based purely on the merits of his career, he should go in.
Of course, he won't be judged just on those merits. He'll be dinged for relatively few postseason appearances. He'll get nicked for relatively low batting averages and MVP election results. He was never flashy, but he always was good, and Dewey Evans and Bert Blyleven and Ron Santo can tell you that's no way to get into the Hall of Fame.
But he's hit 535 homers, and he's not slowing down much. It's a cold hard number that even the Bill Plaschkes of the world can understand (assuming it's presented in a one-sentence paragraph), and it's a number that says "I'm one of the best. Ever."
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Olympic Notebook
So let me get this straight: A Cuban tae kwon do competitor was disqualified for taking too long after an injury, and reacted to his disqualification by attacking the judge (who, presumably, also knows tae kwon do, or he wouldn't be judging it)? Call me crazy, but if you're well enough to go berserk on the official, you're probably well enough to get back in there.
***
With statements by IOC President Jacques Rogge have made it very clear: the disappearance of baseball and softball from the Olympics after this year is nothing more than a power play. Rogge said baseball would be back as soon as MLB agreed to shut down its season and send those players to the games. In other words, our games are bigger than your games, so do what we tell you to and we'll give you the opportunity to help line our coffers.
To which, of course, MLB said a polite "Screw you, we've got our own international tournament, thanks" and that's where it sits (despite IABF president Harvey Schiller's apparent eagerness to sell out MLB). That's where it should sit, frankly, because it wouldn't just be a case of shutting down baseball season for two weeks during the Olympics. It would also mean shutting down games for qualifiers. It would mean disrupting the season at different points, often in the middle of the pennant races. It would mean inevitable injuries when some third-string situational lefty from the Netherlands decides to take his moment of Olympic glory and use it to put a fastball behind Chase Utley's ear. And most of all, it would mean kow-towing to the corrupt, mismanaged, tantrum-throwing blackmail machine that is the IOC, which has no qualms about using the hammer of patriotism to shame people into making its generally loathsome* executives very rich indeed.
And lost in all this is the irony. The Olympics are crying foul because MLB isn't sending its best professional athletes. How long ago was it that the US was brutalized in the world press for daring to send professional basketball players? How long ago were the Olympics held up as the ideal of the amateur athlete?
It all smells like hypocrisy. And greed. And money.
***
I'm very glad the Olympic basketball team did not act like dickweeds this time around. That being said, most people take that as a baseline for civilized human behavior. We've come a long way, but that doesn't mean we've followed the right road.
***
With statements by IOC President Jacques Rogge have made it very clear: the disappearance of baseball and softball from the Olympics after this year is nothing more than a power play. Rogge said baseball would be back as soon as MLB agreed to shut down its season and send those players to the games. In other words, our games are bigger than your games, so do what we tell you to and we'll give you the opportunity to help line our coffers.
To which, of course, MLB said a polite "Screw you, we've got our own international tournament, thanks" and that's where it sits (despite IABF president Harvey Schiller's apparent eagerness to sell out MLB). That's where it should sit, frankly, because it wouldn't just be a case of shutting down baseball season for two weeks during the Olympics. It would also mean shutting down games for qualifiers. It would mean disrupting the season at different points, often in the middle of the pennant races. It would mean inevitable injuries when some third-string situational lefty from the Netherlands decides to take his moment of Olympic glory and use it to put a fastball behind Chase Utley's ear. And most of all, it would mean kow-towing to the corrupt, mismanaged, tantrum-throwing blackmail machine that is the IOC, which has no qualms about using the hammer of patriotism to shame people into making its generally loathsome* executives very rich indeed.
And lost in all this is the irony. The Olympics are crying foul because MLB isn't sending its best professional athletes. How long ago was it that the US was brutalized in the world press for daring to send professional basketball players? How long ago were the Olympics held up as the ideal of the amateur athlete?
It all smells like hypocrisy. And greed. And money.
***
I'm very glad the Olympic basketball team did not act like dickweeds this time around. That being said, most people take that as a baseline for civilized human behavior. We've come a long way, but that doesn't mean we've followed the right road.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Magnets? Really?
So the Joe Gibbs Racing Sprint Car Team (say that three times fast) got caught sticking magnets under the gas pedals of their cars to try to fudge their true horsepower whenNASCAR's testing staff checked out their cars.
In other words, they cheated, and to my eyes J.D. Gibbs didn't look the slightest bit repentant at his "shucks, someone done messed up" press conference. NASCAR has always embraced the SEC ethos of "if you ain't cheating, you ain't trying", but these days it's getting ridiculous.
The reason, of course, is that the penalties NASCAR levies for anything up to and including attempted vehicular homicide are negligible. A few thousand dollars, a handful of driver points, maybe a few other slaps on the wrist. If someone did something really bad, a crew chief might get suspended for a race or two. Not the driver, of course. Not the guy the sponsors want out there. It's the crew chief, who no doubt can sit back in the trailer with a headset on and pretty much do his job just as well as if he were in Pit Row.
And if the penalties are a joke, then why not cheat? Even if you're caught, it's not going to cost you anything. But magnets under the gas pedal? That's a good one.
In other words, they cheated, and to my eyes J.D. Gibbs didn't look the slightest bit repentant at his "shucks, someone done messed up" press conference. NASCAR has always embraced the SEC ethos of "if you ain't cheating, you ain't trying", but these days it's getting ridiculous.
The reason, of course, is that the penalties NASCAR levies for anything up to and including attempted vehicular homicide are negligible. A few thousand dollars, a handful of driver points, maybe a few other slaps on the wrist. If someone did something really bad, a crew chief might get suspended for a race or two. Not the driver, of course. Not the guy the sponsors want out there. It's the crew chief, who no doubt can sit back in the trailer with a headset on and pretty much do his job just as well as if he were in Pit Row.
And if the penalties are a joke, then why not cheat? Even if you're caught, it's not going to cost you anything. But magnets under the gas pedal? That's a good one.
Playing in the NFL is Not a Privilege
I firmly believe that Andy Gresh was put on this earth to torment me for my sins. Gresh's "everyday joe" persona has long since crossed the border into "total and willful ignoramus", and it's now seeking political asylum there.
Tonight's bit of genius involved frothing at the mouth over the Bengals' decision to bring back wide receiver and cell block H favorite Chris Henry. On one hand, he's right - the Bengals' front office and brain trust take a tremendous credibility hit by bringing back the guy who singlehandedly exemplifies the Bengals' lawless tradition of recent years, and whom they'd publicly said they weren't interested in.
That being said, that's not what got Gresh going. No, what had him geysering all over the mike was the notion that Henry had abused the privilege of playing professional football in the NFL.
The privilege.
And about the ninth time I heard those words, I was ready to stop the car and tear down a medium-sized pine tree with my teeth and fingernails because of the sheer stupidity of that statement, and what it implies.
It is not a "privilege" to play in the NFL. If you are playing professional football, it is because one of the 32 pocket dictators called a "head coach" has decided that you can help him win games and sell tickets. That is it. It is not a privilege. It is a job. It is a business transaction between the player, who offers his services and health (long term and short term) in exchange for fame, fortune, and the perks of being a professional athlete in our society. The players inevitably lose t his transaction, because they are all ultimately replaceable, and because the currency they bring to the table is their own physical and mental well-being, at the end of the ride they are inevitably diminished in some way. It is not a privilege, it is a well-paying, hazardous, dangerous profession and considering the revenues that the players bring in by their athleticism and willingness to sacrifice themselves, they are entitled to as much of that pie as they can grab as their due. Nobody pays 50 yard line seat prices to watch Tom Benson, after all.
Do players get privileged treatment during their playing days? Of course. But that's confusing correlation with causation. They get privileged treatment, whether from the police or the media or the dewy-eyed young women at post-game watering holes because of their profession, not as part of it. The privilege falls away once you stop playing for all but the most transcendent few, and it becomes clear that particular sort of treatment is not about the player.
Instead, it's about the team, and not in the rah-rah way. As long as the player is viewed making a positive contribution - or at least more of a contribution than his replacement might - he's coddled regardless of pretty much anything he might do. Treated with kid gloves. Given second or third or ninth chances. Witness Steve Smith, who's injured two teammates in fistfights. Witness pharmaceutical fiend Bill Romanowski. Witness Leonard Little, who killed someone in a drunk driving incident and then was caught blotto behind the wheel again. Witness Terrell Owens and Nick Kaczur and Adam Jones and Odell Thurman and Todd Sauerbrun and more. The lesson is clear: if you can play, we want you, and everything else is details. That's not privilege. That's cold-eyed evaluation of an asset, and Chris Henry understands this better than Andy Gresh does. Henry knows that as long as he can play well, there will be someone in the league who will hire him, who will make excuses for him, who will say "it won't happen here." And it will keep happening as long as he has the skills and athletic prowess to justify his place on the field. The second he can't, then he'll be cut, cast out, moralized against, and forgotten, and it will start again with someone else.
But as long as he can play, and no matter what people like you or me or Andy Gresh think, then Chris Henry will continue to get hired. Not privileged. Hired.
Of course, Gresh's job hinges on portraying the act of playing football as something noble and unique and wonderful, so he's perhaps got a vested interest in perpetuating that particular myth. But it is a myth, and deep down, I suspect he knows it. If he doesn't, he can just ask Deltha O'Neal. Or Steve Foley. Or, for that matter, Steve Howe. Or Ryne Duren. Or Micheal Ray Richardson. Or Shawn Kemp.
They'd probably tell him.
Tonight's bit of genius involved frothing at the mouth over the Bengals' decision to bring back wide receiver and cell block H favorite Chris Henry. On one hand, he's right - the Bengals' front office and brain trust take a tremendous credibility hit by bringing back the guy who singlehandedly exemplifies the Bengals' lawless tradition of recent years, and whom they'd publicly said they weren't interested in.
That being said, that's not what got Gresh going. No, what had him geysering all over the mike was the notion that Henry had abused the privilege of playing professional football in the NFL.
The privilege.
And about the ninth time I heard those words, I was ready to stop the car and tear down a medium-sized pine tree with my teeth and fingernails because of the sheer stupidity of that statement, and what it implies.
It is not a "privilege" to play in the NFL. If you are playing professional football, it is because one of the 32 pocket dictators called a "head coach" has decided that you can help him win games and sell tickets. That is it. It is not a privilege. It is a job. It is a business transaction between the player, who offers his services and health (long term and short term) in exchange for fame, fortune, and the perks of being a professional athlete in our society. The players inevitably lose t his transaction, because they are all ultimately replaceable, and because the currency they bring to the table is their own physical and mental well-being, at the end of the ride they are inevitably diminished in some way. It is not a privilege, it is a well-paying, hazardous, dangerous profession and considering the revenues that the players bring in by their athleticism and willingness to sacrifice themselves, they are entitled to as much of that pie as they can grab as their due. Nobody pays 50 yard line seat prices to watch Tom Benson, after all.
Do players get privileged treatment during their playing days? Of course. But that's confusing correlation with causation. They get privileged treatment, whether from the police or the media or the dewy-eyed young women at post-game watering holes because of their profession, not as part of it. The privilege falls away once you stop playing for all but the most transcendent few, and it becomes clear that particular sort of treatment is not about the player.
Instead, it's about the team, and not in the rah-rah way. As long as the player is viewed making a positive contribution - or at least more of a contribution than his replacement might - he's coddled regardless of pretty much anything he might do. Treated with kid gloves. Given second or third or ninth chances. Witness Steve Smith, who's injured two teammates in fistfights. Witness pharmaceutical fiend Bill Romanowski. Witness Leonard Little, who killed someone in a drunk driving incident and then was caught blotto behind the wheel again. Witness Terrell Owens and Nick Kaczur and Adam Jones and Odell Thurman and Todd Sauerbrun and more. The lesson is clear: if you can play, we want you, and everything else is details. That's not privilege. That's cold-eyed evaluation of an asset, and Chris Henry understands this better than Andy Gresh does. Henry knows that as long as he can play well, there will be someone in the league who will hire him, who will make excuses for him, who will say "it won't happen here." And it will keep happening as long as he has the skills and athletic prowess to justify his place on the field. The second he can't, then he'll be cut, cast out, moralized against, and forgotten, and it will start again with someone else.
But as long as he can play, and no matter what people like you or me or Andy Gresh think, then Chris Henry will continue to get hired. Not privileged. Hired.
Of course, Gresh's job hinges on portraying the act of playing football as something noble and unique and wonderful, so he's perhaps got a vested interest in perpetuating that particular myth. But it is a myth, and deep down, I suspect he knows it. If he doesn't, he can just ask Deltha O'Neal. Or Steve Foley. Or, for that matter, Steve Howe. Or Ryne Duren. Or Micheal Ray Richardson. Or Shawn Kemp.
They'd probably tell him.
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