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SubscribeMore insights on Clemens, the steroids issue; Follow-up on the comments on the PGA Championship
Fri, Aug 20 2010 10:10
| Andy Pettitte, Mark McGwire, David Price, Barry Bonds, MLB, Officials, Bud Selig, Roger Clemens, PGA Championship
| Permalink
Tom Boswell’s column in this morning’s Washington Post is worth reading because he makes important points about great athletes believing they will always be believed—no matter what they say—and about how often he saw Roger Clemens do good things during his long (too long as it turns out) Major League career.
I didn’t know Clemens as long or as well as Boz did but my experiences with him were similar. The very first time I met him was in the visiting clubhouse at Camden Yards in Baltimore in 1992. I was working on my first baseball book and I was on crutches because I had torn my Achilles heel. A few minutes before Clemens showed up in the clubhouse, I’d been sitting on a chair up against a wall so I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way while I waited for Clemens to arrive—I’d been told he was coming on the team bus, unusual in itself for a superstar—with my crutches standing against the wall next to me.
Jody Reed, then the Red Sox second baseman, walked by, glanced at me and the crutches, and said, “You better make sure those things don’t fall and trip someone.”
Feeling fine Jody, thanks for your concern.
A few minutes later Clemens arrived and walked to his locker. I stood up, grabbed the crutches—which somehow had not fallen and created the havoc Reed envisioned—and hobbled over to introduce myself to Clemens.
“What happened to you?” he asked as we shook hands.
I told him it had been one of those fluke old guy injuries—I wasn’t THAT old at the time but what the heck—and he nodded, took a few steps to his right and grabbed an extra chair. “Sit down and tell me what you need,” he said. As I did, he took the crutches and put them behind him in his locker.
When I told him I was doing a book on baseball and wanted to chat with him at some point he shrugged and said, “sure, no problem.”
To make this long story a little shorter, we talked for a couple of hours the next day, then resumed the conversation in Boston a couple of weeks later. On that day, when it was time for the clubhouse to be close to the media, Clemens walked me outside the clubhouse and sat on the back steps for another 45 minutes so we could finish up. (I was off the crutches by then, much to Jody Reed’s relief no doubt).
I never once encountered him over the next 15 years when he wasn’t cordial or available if I asked. When he came back to the Yankees in 2007, I was working on my book on Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina and he jokingly asked if I’d chosen Mussina because he knew so many big words.
In short, like Boswell, I like Roger Clemens.
But I wasn’t the least bit surprised—nor was anyone else in baseball—when his name showed up in The Mitchell Report in 2007. To quote one of his former teammates, “if he’s not taking steroids then he must be from another planet.”
His numbers were just too outrageous to be believed—not unlike Barry Bonds, except for this: Clemens was in decline when he left Boston in 1996 at the age of 34. He’d thrown a lot of innings and dealt with a lot of injuries. That’s one reason the Red Sox let him leave. Then, as we all know, Brian McNamee came into his life and he miraculously turned his year around in 1998. In 1999—without McNamee—he had a mediocre year in New York. After that, McNamee was hired by the Yankees and the miracles began—a 20-3 record in 2001 at the age of 39 and then, most unbelievably an ERA of 1.87 in 2005 in Houston the summer he turned 43.
I watched, like everyone else, in awe and wonder. As usual, there were people who used the, “no one works out like Roger Clemens,” excuse—the same one heard about Bonds and Sosa and McGwire and other miracles of human nature. No one doubts that. But there’s a REASON why players approaching 40 can continue to push their bodies so hard and, unfortunately, it isn’t Gatorade.
The day Clemens testified before Congress along with McNamee in 2008 was painful. As committee chairman Henry Waxman said in conclusion: SOMEONE was lying. And, while you might have chosen Clemens over McNamee given McNamee’s sleazy background and the fact that he’d provided information only to stay out of jail, you weren’t going to choose Clemens over his pal Andy Pettitte. If Pettitte was ever going to lie it would have been to protect Clemens. But he didn’t. He told the committee Clemens had told him he had taken HGH.
Game, set, match.
I don’t believe Clemens will go to jail. Neither will Bonds, who seems to have found his way to a judge in San Francisco who is going to rule out any testimony that might convict him. But in the big picture it doesn’t matter. They’re both disgraced forever in the eyes of the public. In all likelihood, neither will ever be in the Hall of Fame and they will always be looked upon as cheaters. The sad thing is both had Hall of Fame careers before they got involved with steroids. They just wanted more.
In the grand scheme of things, baseball’s nightmare just goes on and on. Bud Selig and the players’ union (and the media—we aren’t innocent in this either) buried their head in the mid and late 90s when it started to become abundantly clear that players were growing at alarming rates and singles hitters were hitting opposite field home runs on a regular basis. It’s smaller ballparks, better workout regimens, better lights, lousy relief pitching. There were enough theories to fill Yankee Stadium.
None were true. Here’s what was true and I know I’ve told this story before but it is so apt it bears repeating. Ron Darling remembers arriving in Oakland after a trade in 1991 and being struck by how different the clubhouse was after games there than it had been during his Mets days in the mid-80s.
“With the Mets we came into the clubhouse after a game and went right to the food,” he said. “Then we showered, got dressed and went out for the night. In Oakland, guys came in, changed into shorts and a T-shirt and went to the weight room. Every night. After a while it occurred to me that it was just about impossible to work out that hard, that often in-season without some kind of help.”
We all know now what kind of help those A’s, led by McGwire and Jose Canseco, were getting.
I like Roger Clemens. I like Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa and Rafael Palmeiro—and no doubt plenty of other steroid users. But they cheated the game. They damaged themselves. And they have left a taint on the sport that won’t go away anytime soon.
*****
I try to read the posts on the blog at least a couple of times a week because they are often smart, informative and funny. Sometimes I disagree with them but that’s fine too.
That said there were a few posts in response to the blog Tuesday about the fiasco at The PGA Championship that simply made no sense to me. To begin with, some people clearly didn’t READ what I wrote. I didn’t exonerate Dustin Johnson at all, I said he was ultimately responsible (for those of you who need help with vocabulary that means final) for his fate. I also said that AFTER TALKING TO OTHER RULES OFFICIALS it was clear to me that David Price should have said something to Johnson about being in a bunker. His defenders say he was not OBLIGATED to do so. They’re right.
There are two kinds of officials in sports—pro-active ones who try to prevent athletes from committing penalties or violations—simple example as mentioned by one poster when a basketball referee tells a player, “you can’t move,” before an inbounds play. Does the player know that 99 times out of 100? Of course. The official is trying to avoid the 100th time. The same is true when football officials warn players they’re close to getting called for holding. Or even when a good official—unlike short-tempered baseball umpires—says to a coach or manager, “that’s enough,” before he tees him up or tosses him from a game.
Price chose not to be pro-active as every rules official I spoke to told me they would have been: “Dustin, you know under local rule you’re in a bunker.” That simple. As one very experienced official said: “there was nothing bad that could come from him saying that.” Plenty of bad, as we know, could come from not saying it, from saying, ‘I’m not obligated to say anything.’
To the guy who wanted to lecture me on the job of USGA officials: those were PGA of America officials out there. To the guy who has played in ‘high-level,’ competition and thus knows more golf than I do—call me when you’re in the last group of a major. In the meantime, ask real rules officials what they would have done in that situation. They’ve done it in a lot higher competition than you’ve played in. And finally to the guy who says I’m a ‘disgrace to sportswriting,’ for taking Price to task—really? Are you his brother, dad, son—or wife? If thinking David Price screwed up Sunday is the most disgraceful thing I ever do as a sportswriter I will have had one hell of a career.
And for those who want to write in today and say, ‘gee John, aren’t you being sensitive today,’—maybe. I have no problem with anyone disagreeing with me or with pointing out when I’m wrong—which is often. But at least read what I’ve written before you go off.
I didn’t know Clemens as long or as well as Boz did but my experiences with him were similar. The very first time I met him was in the visiting clubhouse at Camden Yards in Baltimore in 1992. I was working on my first baseball book and I was on crutches because I had torn my Achilles heel. A few minutes before Clemens showed up in the clubhouse, I’d been sitting on a chair up against a wall so I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way while I waited for Clemens to arrive—I’d been told he was coming on the team bus, unusual in itself for a superstar—with my crutches standing against the wall next to me.
Jody Reed, then the Red Sox second baseman, walked by, glanced at me and the crutches, and said, “You better make sure those things don’t fall and trip someone.”
Feeling fine Jody, thanks for your concern.
A few minutes later Clemens arrived and walked to his locker. I stood up, grabbed the crutches—which somehow had not fallen and created the havoc Reed envisioned—and hobbled over to introduce myself to Clemens.
“What happened to you?” he asked as we shook hands.
I told him it had been one of those fluke old guy injuries—I wasn’t THAT old at the time but what the heck—and he nodded, took a few steps to his right and grabbed an extra chair. “Sit down and tell me what you need,” he said. As I did, he took the crutches and put them behind him in his locker.
When I told him I was doing a book on baseball and wanted to chat with him at some point he shrugged and said, “sure, no problem.”
To make this long story a little shorter, we talked for a couple of hours the next day, then resumed the conversation in Boston a couple of weeks later. On that day, when it was time for the clubhouse to be close to the media, Clemens walked me outside the clubhouse and sat on the back steps for another 45 minutes so we could finish up. (I was off the crutches by then, much to Jody Reed’s relief no doubt).
I never once encountered him over the next 15 years when he wasn’t cordial or available if I asked. When he came back to the Yankees in 2007, I was working on my book on Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina and he jokingly asked if I’d chosen Mussina because he knew so many big words.
In short, like Boswell, I like Roger Clemens.
But I wasn’t the least bit surprised—nor was anyone else in baseball—when his name showed up in The Mitchell Report in 2007. To quote one of his former teammates, “if he’s not taking steroids then he must be from another planet.”
His numbers were just too outrageous to be believed—not unlike Barry Bonds, except for this: Clemens was in decline when he left Boston in 1996 at the age of 34. He’d thrown a lot of innings and dealt with a lot of injuries. That’s one reason the Red Sox let him leave. Then, as we all know, Brian McNamee came into his life and he miraculously turned his year around in 1998. In 1999—without McNamee—he had a mediocre year in New York. After that, McNamee was hired by the Yankees and the miracles began—a 20-3 record in 2001 at the age of 39 and then, most unbelievably an ERA of 1.87 in 2005 in Houston the summer he turned 43.
I watched, like everyone else, in awe and wonder. As usual, there were people who used the, “no one works out like Roger Clemens,” excuse—the same one heard about Bonds and Sosa and McGwire and other miracles of human nature. No one doubts that. But there’s a REASON why players approaching 40 can continue to push their bodies so hard and, unfortunately, it isn’t Gatorade.
The day Clemens testified before Congress along with McNamee in 2008 was painful. As committee chairman Henry Waxman said in conclusion: SOMEONE was lying. And, while you might have chosen Clemens over McNamee given McNamee’s sleazy background and the fact that he’d provided information only to stay out of jail, you weren’t going to choose Clemens over his pal Andy Pettitte. If Pettitte was ever going to lie it would have been to protect Clemens. But he didn’t. He told the committee Clemens had told him he had taken HGH.
Game, set, match.
I don’t believe Clemens will go to jail. Neither will Bonds, who seems to have found his way to a judge in San Francisco who is going to rule out any testimony that might convict him. But in the big picture it doesn’t matter. They’re both disgraced forever in the eyes of the public. In all likelihood, neither will ever be in the Hall of Fame and they will always be looked upon as cheaters. The sad thing is both had Hall of Fame careers before they got involved with steroids. They just wanted more.
In the grand scheme of things, baseball’s nightmare just goes on and on. Bud Selig and the players’ union (and the media—we aren’t innocent in this either) buried their head in the mid and late 90s when it started to become abundantly clear that players were growing at alarming rates and singles hitters were hitting opposite field home runs on a regular basis. It’s smaller ballparks, better workout regimens, better lights, lousy relief pitching. There were enough theories to fill Yankee Stadium.
None were true. Here’s what was true and I know I’ve told this story before but it is so apt it bears repeating. Ron Darling remembers arriving in Oakland after a trade in 1991 and being struck by how different the clubhouse was after games there than it had been during his Mets days in the mid-80s.
“With the Mets we came into the clubhouse after a game and went right to the food,” he said. “Then we showered, got dressed and went out for the night. In Oakland, guys came in, changed into shorts and a T-shirt and went to the weight room. Every night. After a while it occurred to me that it was just about impossible to work out that hard, that often in-season without some kind of help.”
We all know now what kind of help those A’s, led by McGwire and Jose Canseco, were getting.
I like Roger Clemens. I like Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa and Rafael Palmeiro—and no doubt plenty of other steroid users. But they cheated the game. They damaged themselves. And they have left a taint on the sport that won’t go away anytime soon.
*****
I try to read the posts on the blog at least a couple of times a week because they are often smart, informative and funny. Sometimes I disagree with them but that’s fine too.
That said there were a few posts in response to the blog Tuesday about the fiasco at The PGA Championship that simply made no sense to me. To begin with, some people clearly didn’t READ what I wrote. I didn’t exonerate Dustin Johnson at all, I said he was ultimately responsible (for those of you who need help with vocabulary that means final) for his fate. I also said that AFTER TALKING TO OTHER RULES OFFICIALS it was clear to me that David Price should have said something to Johnson about being in a bunker. His defenders say he was not OBLIGATED to do so. They’re right.
There are two kinds of officials in sports—pro-active ones who try to prevent athletes from committing penalties or violations—simple example as mentioned by one poster when a basketball referee tells a player, “you can’t move,” before an inbounds play. Does the player know that 99 times out of 100? Of course. The official is trying to avoid the 100th time. The same is true when football officials warn players they’re close to getting called for holding. Or even when a good official—unlike short-tempered baseball umpires—says to a coach or manager, “that’s enough,” before he tees him up or tosses him from a game.
Price chose not to be pro-active as every rules official I spoke to told me they would have been: “Dustin, you know under local rule you’re in a bunker.” That simple. As one very experienced official said: “there was nothing bad that could come from him saying that.” Plenty of bad, as we know, could come from not saying it, from saying, ‘I’m not obligated to say anything.’
To the guy who wanted to lecture me on the job of USGA officials: those were PGA of America officials out there. To the guy who has played in ‘high-level,’ competition and thus knows more golf than I do—call me when you’re in the last group of a major. In the meantime, ask real rules officials what they would have done in that situation. They’ve done it in a lot higher competition than you’ve played in. And finally to the guy who says I’m a ‘disgrace to sportswriting,’ for taking Price to task—really? Are you his brother, dad, son—or wife? If thinking David Price screwed up Sunday is the most disgraceful thing I ever do as a sportswriter I will have had one hell of a career.
And for those who want to write in today and say, ‘gee John, aren’t you being sensitive today,’—maybe. I have no problem with anyone disagreeing with me or with pointing out when I’m wrong—which is often. But at least read what I’ve written before you go off.
Comments (11)
Washington Post Op-Ed: Roger Clemens's indictment continues baseball's sorry saga
Thu, Aug 19 2010 08:50
| Washington Post, MLB, steroids, Roger Clemens
| Permalink
The indictment of Roger Clemens on Thursday for lying to Congress about alleged steroid use isn't the end of this saga. It's just another sad chapter.
Every few weeks, it seems, baseball is embarrassed yet again by news that a superstar cheated the game and lied about cheating the game. The news emerges in different ways: Alex Rodriguez, who recently became the seventh player in major-league history to hit 600 home runs, was outed in a book in the winter of 2009, then went on television to explain. Mark McGwire, the first player to hit 70 home runs in a season, tearfully admitted his drug use this past winter because he wanted to work again in Major League Baseball (as the St. Louis Cardinals hitting instructor). Pitcher Andy Pettitte, winner of 240 games in the major leagues, fessed up before spring training in 2008 after being named in the Mitchell Report on steroid use.
And so the list goes on.
Click here for the rest of the column: Roger Clemens: Another fallen giant
Every few weeks, it seems, baseball is embarrassed yet again by news that a superstar cheated the game and lied about cheating the game. The news emerges in different ways: Alex Rodriguez, who recently became the seventh player in major-league history to hit 600 home runs, was outed in a book in the winter of 2009, then went on television to explain. Mark McGwire, the first player to hit 70 home runs in a season, tearfully admitted his drug use this past winter because he wanted to work again in Major League Baseball (as the St. Louis Cardinals hitting instructor). Pitcher Andy Pettitte, winner of 240 games in the major leagues, fessed up before spring training in 2008 after being named in the Mitchell Report on steroid use.
And so the list goes on.
Click here for the rest of the column: Roger Clemens: Another fallen giant
Comments (4)
Isiah Thomas – setting the Knicks idiocy aside, how can the NBA and NCAA allow this?; Quick notes on Woods, MLB umpire situation
Mon, Aug 9 2010 09:02
| Isiah Thomas, NCAA, NBA, Tiger Woods, MLB, Officials, James Dolan, Knicks
| Permalink
The New York Knicks have hired Isiah Thomas as a consultant.
Sure, and Barack Obama has hired Bernie Madoff as Secretary of The Treasury.
I mean seriously, the Knicks have hired Isiah Thomas? What are they going to do next bring back Stephon Marbury as their point guard?
This just in: Dan Snyder has signed Jeff George to play quarterback.
You see, even SNYDER isn’t stupid enough to repeat absolute folly. That’s what James Dolan apparently wants to do. He is bringing back a man who brought complete shame to his franchise on and off the court; a man who has about as many friends in the world as, well, Bernie Madoff.
Isiah Thomas?
Already there’s a story in The New York Daily News that Donnie Walsh thought about quitting as team president and general manager and may yet do it. Maybe then Dolan can bring Isiah back as general manager. While he’s at it maybe he can hire Kiki Vandeweghe, who had so much success with the Nets this past season, as his coach. Or Bernie Madoff. I mean, why not?
There are so many questions that are un-answered about all this. The most obvious one is why? But there are others. For example, how in the world can either the NBA or the NCAA be okay with Thomas continuing as coach at Florida International University while being on the Knicks payroll?
Let’s look at it from the NBA side first. The league has very strict rules about contact with players who aren’t draft eligible—either by being college seniors or having declared for the draft. That means, every time Thomas talks to his team, he’s breaking NBA rules. It means every time he talks to a recruit, he’s breaking NBA rules. It means any time he talks to an opposing player—even to put his arm around him and say, ‘nice game,’—he’s breaking NBA rules.
More important though is how it can be possible that the NCAA can allow this. Remember, this is an organization that has about 426 rules that relate to ‘unfair advantages,’ in recruiting. In 1988 when I wrote, ‘A Season Inside,’ and related stories about going on recruiting visits with a number of coaches to player’s homes, the NCAA passed a rule banning any member of the media from making a home visit with a coach. Why? Because (I was told) it was considered an unfair advantage for a coach to be able to imply that he had more access to media coverage than another coach might by bringing a reporter along with him.
The NCAA also passed a rule several years ago which banned any member of the media—even one WRITING A BOOK--from being in a team’s locker room before, during or right after an NCAA Tournament game—UNLESS the locker room was opened to all members of the media. The reason: If a coach can tell a recruit that there is enough interest in his program to merit being part of a book, it is an unfair advantage.
I swear I’m not making this stuff up.
Given all that, how can the NCAA think for one second that this is NOT an advantage for a college coach to be able to say to a recruit, “you know I’m a paid consultant for an NBA team.” That implies a connection to the NBA that other coaches don’t have.
Now, you might laugh and say, ‘who the heck is Isiah Thomas going to recruit at Florida International who is even a long-shot NBA prospect?’ Are you kidding? Ninety percent of the reason he was hired by the school is because it thinks his name will attract higher-level recruits, kids who might have pro ambitions. (By the way, in high school, they ALL have pro ambitions).
Beyond that, you can’t say it’s okay for the coach at Florida International to be on an NBA payroll but not okay for the coach at Duke or North Carolina or Kansas or UCLA or Maryland—or ANYONE—to be on an NBA payroll. Coaches complain all the time that Mike Krzyzewski has an unfair advantage in recruiting because he coaches NBA players as the Olympic Coach. Imagine if The Washington Wizards hired Krzyzewski as a consultant. Do you think Gary Williams (or Roy Williams or anyone else) might have a problem with that?
Imagine if a college coach on a recruiting visit can say to a kid, “you know, the other day Pat Riley (or you pick a general manager) called me to talk about what free agents we should go after next summer.” Or if he said, “Phil Jackson was asking me who the top five college freshmen are going to be next year and I mentioned you right away.”
Okay, which is a bigger recruiting advantage: being able to drop a line like that or having some reporter sitting in the corner taking notes?
If I were an NBA owner, I’d be on the phone with every top college coach right now asking if he wanted to be my consultant. If I were a top college coach, I’d take the extra money and any recruiting advantage it might bring in a heartbeat. And just think, very few of these guys have been sued for $11.6 million for sexual harassment—and lost.
Jim Dolan is the absolute prototype of a trust fund kid who has never gotten anything right in his life and, sadly, never really needed to get anything right in his life. He’s made more stupid, arrogant moves than any owner this side of my guy Snyder. In fact, he makes Snyder look like Steve Bisciotti by comparison.
But he’s not the only one who is screwing the pooch on this one. David Stern must be on vacation. The NCAA is ALWAYS on vacation when it comes to common sense. Thomas must be somewhere laughing uncontrollably thinking, ‘you know what, you might not be able to fool ALL the people all the time, but as long as Jim Dolan is still around, I don’t need to fool anyone else.’
Amazing. Just amazing.
*****
Two notes from the weekend: Yes, I’m as stunned as anyone by Tiger Woods’ performance at Firestone. Sometimes though you have to hit rock bottom (this is a golf reference, not a life reference) before you head in the right direction. Woods may have hit it on Sunday. He was almost CHEERFUL talking to the media—after blowing them off two straight days—following his final round 77. Don’t write him off at Whistling Straits. You never write the great ones off and, whatever else he may be, Woods is still the most gifted golfer of my lifetime. And, thanks to Phil Mickelson completely gagging on the weekend (he shot one stroke HIGHER than Woods on Sunday) he’s still number one in the world.
And finally…Just happened to be watching The Athletics and Rangers on Sunday when Mike Maddux came to the mound to make a pitching change. He was stalling to give his reliever some extra time so—naturally—the home plate umpire came out to break up the mound conference. Only he never got the chance to do it really because Joe West charged over from FIRST BASE screaming at Maddux to make his move—waving his arms, yelling, the whole deal.
Question: Has anyone ever seen the first base umpire do that—WITH the home plate ump already on the mound? Second question: When will MLB crack down on umpires who think they’re God—West being the No. 1 offender? I mean please, who died and made Joe West into Doug Harvey? (whose nickname was God). Enough already.
Sure, and Barack Obama has hired Bernie Madoff as Secretary of The Treasury.
I mean seriously, the Knicks have hired Isiah Thomas? What are they going to do next bring back Stephon Marbury as their point guard?
This just in: Dan Snyder has signed Jeff George to play quarterback.
You see, even SNYDER isn’t stupid enough to repeat absolute folly. That’s what James Dolan apparently wants to do. He is bringing back a man who brought complete shame to his franchise on and off the court; a man who has about as many friends in the world as, well, Bernie Madoff.
Isiah Thomas?
Already there’s a story in The New York Daily News that Donnie Walsh thought about quitting as team president and general manager and may yet do it. Maybe then Dolan can bring Isiah back as general manager. While he’s at it maybe he can hire Kiki Vandeweghe, who had so much success with the Nets this past season, as his coach. Or Bernie Madoff. I mean, why not?
There are so many questions that are un-answered about all this. The most obvious one is why? But there are others. For example, how in the world can either the NBA or the NCAA be okay with Thomas continuing as coach at Florida International University while being on the Knicks payroll?
Let’s look at it from the NBA side first. The league has very strict rules about contact with players who aren’t draft eligible—either by being college seniors or having declared for the draft. That means, every time Thomas talks to his team, he’s breaking NBA rules. It means every time he talks to a recruit, he’s breaking NBA rules. It means any time he talks to an opposing player—even to put his arm around him and say, ‘nice game,’—he’s breaking NBA rules.
More important though is how it can be possible that the NCAA can allow this. Remember, this is an organization that has about 426 rules that relate to ‘unfair advantages,’ in recruiting. In 1988 when I wrote, ‘A Season Inside,’ and related stories about going on recruiting visits with a number of coaches to player’s homes, the NCAA passed a rule banning any member of the media from making a home visit with a coach. Why? Because (I was told) it was considered an unfair advantage for a coach to be able to imply that he had more access to media coverage than another coach might by bringing a reporter along with him.
The NCAA also passed a rule several years ago which banned any member of the media—even one WRITING A BOOK--from being in a team’s locker room before, during or right after an NCAA Tournament game—UNLESS the locker room was opened to all members of the media. The reason: If a coach can tell a recruit that there is enough interest in his program to merit being part of a book, it is an unfair advantage.
I swear I’m not making this stuff up.
Given all that, how can the NCAA think for one second that this is NOT an advantage for a college coach to be able to say to a recruit, “you know I’m a paid consultant for an NBA team.” That implies a connection to the NBA that other coaches don’t have.
Now, you might laugh and say, ‘who the heck is Isiah Thomas going to recruit at Florida International who is even a long-shot NBA prospect?’ Are you kidding? Ninety percent of the reason he was hired by the school is because it thinks his name will attract higher-level recruits, kids who might have pro ambitions. (By the way, in high school, they ALL have pro ambitions).
Beyond that, you can’t say it’s okay for the coach at Florida International to be on an NBA payroll but not okay for the coach at Duke or North Carolina or Kansas or UCLA or Maryland—or ANYONE—to be on an NBA payroll. Coaches complain all the time that Mike Krzyzewski has an unfair advantage in recruiting because he coaches NBA players as the Olympic Coach. Imagine if The Washington Wizards hired Krzyzewski as a consultant. Do you think Gary Williams (or Roy Williams or anyone else) might have a problem with that?
Imagine if a college coach on a recruiting visit can say to a kid, “you know, the other day Pat Riley (or you pick a general manager) called me to talk about what free agents we should go after next summer.” Or if he said, “Phil Jackson was asking me who the top five college freshmen are going to be next year and I mentioned you right away.”
Okay, which is a bigger recruiting advantage: being able to drop a line like that or having some reporter sitting in the corner taking notes?
If I were an NBA owner, I’d be on the phone with every top college coach right now asking if he wanted to be my consultant. If I were a top college coach, I’d take the extra money and any recruiting advantage it might bring in a heartbeat. And just think, very few of these guys have been sued for $11.6 million for sexual harassment—and lost.
Jim Dolan is the absolute prototype of a trust fund kid who has never gotten anything right in his life and, sadly, never really needed to get anything right in his life. He’s made more stupid, arrogant moves than any owner this side of my guy Snyder. In fact, he makes Snyder look like Steve Bisciotti by comparison.
But he’s not the only one who is screwing the pooch on this one. David Stern must be on vacation. The NCAA is ALWAYS on vacation when it comes to common sense. Thomas must be somewhere laughing uncontrollably thinking, ‘you know what, you might not be able to fool ALL the people all the time, but as long as Jim Dolan is still around, I don’t need to fool anyone else.’
Amazing. Just amazing.
*****
Two notes from the weekend: Yes, I’m as stunned as anyone by Tiger Woods’ performance at Firestone. Sometimes though you have to hit rock bottom (this is a golf reference, not a life reference) before you head in the right direction. Woods may have hit it on Sunday. He was almost CHEERFUL talking to the media—after blowing them off two straight days—following his final round 77. Don’t write him off at Whistling Straits. You never write the great ones off and, whatever else he may be, Woods is still the most gifted golfer of my lifetime. And, thanks to Phil Mickelson completely gagging on the weekend (he shot one stroke HIGHER than Woods on Sunday) he’s still number one in the world.
And finally…Just happened to be watching The Athletics and Rangers on Sunday when Mike Maddux came to the mound to make a pitching change. He was stalling to give his reliever some extra time so—naturally—the home plate umpire came out to break up the mound conference. Only he never got the chance to do it really because Joe West charged over from FIRST BASE screaming at Maddux to make his move—waving his arms, yelling, the whole deal.
Question: Has anyone ever seen the first base umpire do that—WITH the home plate ump already on the mound? Second question: When will MLB crack down on umpires who think they’re God—West being the No. 1 offender? I mean please, who died and made Joe West into Doug Harvey? (whose nickname was God). Enough already.
Comments (7)
All sports need balance, the time has come for MLB salary cap AND floor
On Saturday, as The Major League Baseball trading deadline came and went, the New York Yankees made three trades, picking up Lance Berkman, Kerry Wood and Austin Kearns. None of these moves was earth-shattering or even terribly significant. Berkman is an ex-All Star in the twilight of an excellent career. Woods is a former phenom who is now 33 and was pitching to an ERA of 6.30 in Cleveland on those rare occasions when he wasn’t on the Disabled List. Kearns is a journeyman outfielder who can catch a fly ball and throw out an occasional runner.
The Dodgers picking up Ted Lilly—although they may have made their move too late—is more significant. Certainly the earlier trades that moved Cliff Lee to Texas; Roy Oswalt to Philadelphia and Dan Haren (although that may be too late too) were far more significant than anything the Yankees did.
Of course the Yankees made these moves already having the best record in baseball. They were moves made because perhaps each of the three will win one game in the next two months or get one key hit or one key out in postseason. That would be enough because the Yankees didn’t have to give up an important prospect in any of the three moves. All they cost was money and for the Yankees, buying players like Berkman, Wood and Kearns is like buying one of the railroads on a Monopoly board. They’ll wait until this winter to buy Park Place—Lee—and keep on going from there.
This is not, by any stretch, a rant against the Yankees. Even though I’m a lifelong Mets fan I’ve never hated the Yankees and I actually sort of liked them when Joe Torre was the manager because I like Joe Torre. The current rules of baseball say the Yankees can spend whatever they want to spend and the Yankees business plan, brilliantly executed in recent years, makes it possible for them to spend whatever they choose to spend.
The problem is the system. It needs to be fixed during the next Collective Bargaining Agreement negotiations. For years, the baseball union has been adamant about not agreeing to a salary cap. Of course that same union was adamant for years about drug-testing and we all know now how that worked out for baseball.
I understand the principle of being opposed to a salary cap. I also understand the principle of opposing drug-testing when there is no evidence that someone has used drugs. It is a violation of one’s rights and freedoms. It is also, in 2010, an absolute necessity in the world we live in just as the humiliating experience we all go through anytime we get on an airplane is also an absolute necessity.
There are salary caps in football, basketball and hockey. I don’t see very many players starving as a result of them. The NFL is about to go through what will be an angry, protracted negotiation with its union because for the first time in a long time the union has a leader—DeMaurice Smith—who is more than willing to wade in and do battle with the commissioner and the owners. But no one is going to debate whether the salary cap should continue to exist. The battleground will be what percentage of revenues the players get and what percentage the owners get. Put simply, the owners want more.
Hockey is a better and more balanced sport since Gary Bettman was willing to sacrifice a season five years ago and it can be argued that the salary cap saved the NBA back in the 1980s although it now needs considerable tweaking with a CBA negotiation coming up there too.
The issue has never really reached the table in baseball. That’s because Don Fehr was smarter and tougher than any commissioner, any owner and any negotiator sent forth by ownership for many, many years. Every time the owners tried to play hard ball on any front, Fehr sat back and waited for the courts or an arbitrator to rule in favor of the players because they always did. Whether Fehr was the smartest lawyer of all time or the owners hired some of the dumbest lawyers of all time is hard to say, but Fehr and the union were undefeated.
That’s why they were able to hold off drug-testing until public embarrassments forced them to give in, first to limited testing and, finally, after the 2005 Congressional hearing—the famous Mark McGwire, ‘I’m not hear to talk about the past,’ testimony not to mention Rafael Palmeiro’s outright lying and Sammy Sosa forgetting how to speak English—more frequent testing.
That’s also why there’s never been any serious talk about a salary cap. Revenue sharing was the compromise agreed to years ago and it HAS helped. The Minnesota Twins, targeted for extinction by the owners nine years ago, are now flourishing in a wonderful new ballpark, contending every year and have a payroll of just under $100 million. They’ve even signed Joe Mauer to an extension that should keep him in Minnesota through the peak years of an already-great career.
The Tampa Bay Rays won a pennant in 2008 and are chasing the Yankees with great vigor right now. The Cincinnati Reds have one of baseball’s best young teams. The well-managed small market teams can contend. The poorly managed small market teams (Kansas City, Pittsburgh) don’t. The Orioles and Cubs are just poorly managed.
But it’s not enough. The Yankees can’t buy a championship every year, but they can buy contending. They’ve missed the playoffs once since the strike of 1994 and their payroll just keeps growing and growing—as do their revenues. The Twins can contend but win the World Series? It doesn’t seem likely. The Brewers made the playoffs a couple of years back but can they, realistically, win the whole thing? The Texas Rangers DID rent Lee and will make postseason this year but can they go deep into postseason? Where will they be next year when Lee is pitching for the Yankees and the Angels go out and pick up two key free agents?
All sports need balance. The Saints winning The Super Bowl was great for the NFL and the Chicago Black Hawks—a big market team, sure, but they hadn’t won a title in almost 50 years—winning the Stanley Cup was good for hockey. Change and variety are good.
No one is proposing that the Yankees be crippled or cease being a dynasty. Their popularity is also good for baseball: they sell tickets and move TV ratings, especially when they play the Red Sox, who just happen to have baseball’s second biggest payroll.
But the time has come for both a salary cap and a salary FLOOR. The Yankees should have to think twice not so much before signing Lee but before throwing an extra $10 million or so at three marginal players who might make them just enough better to win again this year. The Royals and Pirates should be forced to plow ALL their revenue-sharing money into payroll—ALL OF IT—and every team should have a minimum payroll that gives it a chance to compete. If an owner can’t afford that payroll, especially when aided by revenue sharing, make him sell the team. Owning a baseball team isn’t an inalienable right.
This is the time for the owners to make this move. Fehr has retired. The union has finally been dinged by the public embarrassment over drug-testing. The owners need to go public with this battle because for once they will actually be right. They will not just be trying to grab more money they will be trying to bring balance to their sport.
The time to talk about a salary cap and ring hands and blame the union is over. The time to do to it is here and now. It can be called, ‘The Austin Kearns Rule.’ Has a ring to it I think.
The Dodgers picking up Ted Lilly—although they may have made their move too late—is more significant. Certainly the earlier trades that moved Cliff Lee to Texas; Roy Oswalt to Philadelphia and Dan Haren (although that may be too late too) were far more significant than anything the Yankees did.
Of course the Yankees made these moves already having the best record in baseball. They were moves made because perhaps each of the three will win one game in the next two months or get one key hit or one key out in postseason. That would be enough because the Yankees didn’t have to give up an important prospect in any of the three moves. All they cost was money and for the Yankees, buying players like Berkman, Wood and Kearns is like buying one of the railroads on a Monopoly board. They’ll wait until this winter to buy Park Place—Lee—and keep on going from there.
This is not, by any stretch, a rant against the Yankees. Even though I’m a lifelong Mets fan I’ve never hated the Yankees and I actually sort of liked them when Joe Torre was the manager because I like Joe Torre. The current rules of baseball say the Yankees can spend whatever they want to spend and the Yankees business plan, brilliantly executed in recent years, makes it possible for them to spend whatever they choose to spend.
The problem is the system. It needs to be fixed during the next Collective Bargaining Agreement negotiations. For years, the baseball union has been adamant about not agreeing to a salary cap. Of course that same union was adamant for years about drug-testing and we all know now how that worked out for baseball.
I understand the principle of being opposed to a salary cap. I also understand the principle of opposing drug-testing when there is no evidence that someone has used drugs. It is a violation of one’s rights and freedoms. It is also, in 2010, an absolute necessity in the world we live in just as the humiliating experience we all go through anytime we get on an airplane is also an absolute necessity.
There are salary caps in football, basketball and hockey. I don’t see very many players starving as a result of them. The NFL is about to go through what will be an angry, protracted negotiation with its union because for the first time in a long time the union has a leader—DeMaurice Smith—who is more than willing to wade in and do battle with the commissioner and the owners. But no one is going to debate whether the salary cap should continue to exist. The battleground will be what percentage of revenues the players get and what percentage the owners get. Put simply, the owners want more.
Hockey is a better and more balanced sport since Gary Bettman was willing to sacrifice a season five years ago and it can be argued that the salary cap saved the NBA back in the 1980s although it now needs considerable tweaking with a CBA negotiation coming up there too.
The issue has never really reached the table in baseball. That’s because Don Fehr was smarter and tougher than any commissioner, any owner and any negotiator sent forth by ownership for many, many years. Every time the owners tried to play hard ball on any front, Fehr sat back and waited for the courts or an arbitrator to rule in favor of the players because they always did. Whether Fehr was the smartest lawyer of all time or the owners hired some of the dumbest lawyers of all time is hard to say, but Fehr and the union were undefeated.
That’s why they were able to hold off drug-testing until public embarrassments forced them to give in, first to limited testing and, finally, after the 2005 Congressional hearing—the famous Mark McGwire, ‘I’m not hear to talk about the past,’ testimony not to mention Rafael Palmeiro’s outright lying and Sammy Sosa forgetting how to speak English—more frequent testing.
That’s also why there’s never been any serious talk about a salary cap. Revenue sharing was the compromise agreed to years ago and it HAS helped. The Minnesota Twins, targeted for extinction by the owners nine years ago, are now flourishing in a wonderful new ballpark, contending every year and have a payroll of just under $100 million. They’ve even signed Joe Mauer to an extension that should keep him in Minnesota through the peak years of an already-great career.
The Tampa Bay Rays won a pennant in 2008 and are chasing the Yankees with great vigor right now. The Cincinnati Reds have one of baseball’s best young teams. The well-managed small market teams can contend. The poorly managed small market teams (Kansas City, Pittsburgh) don’t. The Orioles and Cubs are just poorly managed.
But it’s not enough. The Yankees can’t buy a championship every year, but they can buy contending. They’ve missed the playoffs once since the strike of 1994 and their payroll just keeps growing and growing—as do their revenues. The Twins can contend but win the World Series? It doesn’t seem likely. The Brewers made the playoffs a couple of years back but can they, realistically, win the whole thing? The Texas Rangers DID rent Lee and will make postseason this year but can they go deep into postseason? Where will they be next year when Lee is pitching for the Yankees and the Angels go out and pick up two key free agents?
All sports need balance. The Saints winning The Super Bowl was great for the NFL and the Chicago Black Hawks—a big market team, sure, but they hadn’t won a title in almost 50 years—winning the Stanley Cup was good for hockey. Change and variety are good.
No one is proposing that the Yankees be crippled or cease being a dynasty. Their popularity is also good for baseball: they sell tickets and move TV ratings, especially when they play the Red Sox, who just happen to have baseball’s second biggest payroll.
But the time has come for both a salary cap and a salary FLOOR. The Yankees should have to think twice not so much before signing Lee but before throwing an extra $10 million or so at three marginal players who might make them just enough better to win again this year. The Royals and Pirates should be forced to plow ALL their revenue-sharing money into payroll—ALL OF IT—and every team should have a minimum payroll that gives it a chance to compete. If an owner can’t afford that payroll, especially when aided by revenue sharing, make him sell the team. Owning a baseball team isn’t an inalienable right.
This is the time for the owners to make this move. Fehr has retired. The union has finally been dinged by the public embarrassment over drug-testing. The owners need to go public with this battle because for once they will actually be right. They will not just be trying to grab more money they will be trying to bring balance to their sport.
The time to talk about a salary cap and ring hands and blame the union is over. The time to do to it is here and now. It can be called, ‘The Austin Kearns Rule.’ Has a ring to it I think.
Comments (17)
The Orioles and Pirates - two of baseball’s great, traditional franchises are going on their 13th and 18th straight losing seasons
Thu, Jul 29 2010 10:43
| Pittsburgh Pirates, Baltimore Orioles, Peter Angelos, MLB
| Permalink
The other day I vented about The New York Mets and their unwillingness to admit to their mediocrity and clean house in an effort to actually be, well, good. That night, watching the Mets (surprise) win a game, I noticed the Blue Jays-Orioles score as it flashed across the screen. I think it was 8-2 Blue Jays in the fifth inning—something along those lines.
Of course the Blue Jays went on to win and then they won against last night. In fact, Toronto is now 12-0 against the Orioles this season and has outscored them by a margin of 68-23. That’s simply embarrassing as is the Orioles record of 31-70. It is entirely possible that they will be mathematically eliminated before Labor Day, which is extremely difficult to do.
If you’re a baseball fan on any level this is very hard to watch. Right now, two of baseball’s great, traditional franchises have become utterly pathetic: the Orioles and the Pirates. The Pirates are, if possible, worse, even though their current record is marginally better than the Orioles. For one thing, they play in a weaker division. Worse than that, there are no signs that they have any interest in actually rebuilding. This will be their record-breaking 18th straight losing season and there is no sign that streak will end anytime soon.
The Orioles are experiencing ‘only,’ their 13th losing season in a row. I tend to pay more attention to their travails for two reasons: my daughter Brigid remains a diehard fan for reasons I can’t completely fathom (she liked the mascot when she was little and still loves going to Camden Yards even now) and because I have been going to games in Baltimore on a regular basis since I was in college.
I loved Memorial Stadium. It was a great old ballpark filled with terrific fans and, to be honest, I saw no reason for the Orioles to leave. Of course I was wrong. Camden Yards was the first of the new-look ballparks and even now, in its 19th year, might still be the best of them although PNC Park in Pittsburgh is spectacular as are the parks in Texas, Seattle and San Francisco—I have trouble keeping up with the corporate names on them.
Camden Yards was a miracle when it opened in 1992 and it revitalized both the ballclub and downtown Baltimore. The Orioles had been awful in 1991; they won 89 games in 1992 and were in the pennant race until the last 10 days. Every night was a sellout back then, the team routinely drew well over 3 million fans a season even though the ballpark seated no more than 45,000 if you squeezed everyone in very tight.
It was the Orioles, in the form of Cal Ripken Jr., who helped bring baseball back after the strike of 1994-1995. Ripken breaking Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive games played and the way he handled it made people believe in the game again. And, unlike the Mark McGwire-Sammy Sosa home run spree of 1998, it was real. The night of September 6, 1995 was one of the most joyous nights in sports I’ve ever witnessed.
For the next two years the Orioles made the playoffs, losing in the ALCS both years—to the Yankees in 1996 and the Indians the next year. There were storm clouds forming though: Peter Angelos, the new owner, was dubbed ‘Steinbrenner South’ (the pre-suspension Steinbrenner) because of his meddling. He ran off Pat Gillick—as good a general manager as there was in baseball. He feuded with Davey Johnson and ran him off too, losing one of the game’s best managers. He even fired Jon Miller (!!) as good a play-by-play man as there was in the game because Miller wasn’t enough of a homer.
Well, with the exception of Jim Palmer (who is untouchable because of his iconic status in Baltimore) Angelos has a bunch of homer announcers now. I certainly hope he’s happy listening to them cheerily describing one loss after another. (To be fair none of them can touch Rob Dibble in Washington when it comes to being homers, but that’s another story).
This was supposed to be the year when Andy McPhail’s work rebuilding the farm system and the franchise around young pitchers began to pay dividends. It wasn’t as if anyone expected the Orioles to challenge in the ridiculously tough American League East—remember the Blue Jays are in FOURTH place right now—but the thought was they’d be respectable; that they’d get 6-7 innings a night from the kids and maybe if everything fell right, they could break the 12-year losing skein.
Not so much. The team has been awful from the start—everyone included. Adam Jones was an All-Star a year ago; he’s hitting .273 with an OBP of .305 right now and 42 RBI’s. That’s still better than Nick Markakis, who has a solid batting average (.295) but just 33 (!!) runs batted in. The supposedly future All-Star catcher Matt Wieters was hitting .251 when he went on the disabled list earlier this month. The two most productive hitters have been journeymen Luke Scott and Ty Wigginton.
Worse though has been the pitching. The young guys have had some moments but they’ve been few and far between. They’ve all been on a shuttle to and from the minors all year long. The question is this: Growing pains or are they just not that good? If you think about it, pitching often comes down to scouting. Scouting is easy when you have the No. 1 pick and Stephen Strasburg is in the draft. The real challenge is finding guys later in the draft who become solid Major Leaguers.
Once, the Orioles were famous for finding pitching. They’re still the only team to ever have four 20-game winners on the same staff in a season in the modern era (1971). Even in the 90s they were able to sign a guy like Jimmy Key and draft a guy like Mike Mussina. They even had Jamie Moyer on the team but gave up on him a little too soon.
Plus, everything they did was done with class. There was something called, “The Orioles Way,” which meant you played the game hard and well every day, you conducted yourself with dignity as a player or a member of the organization and you were part of a team that almost always contended. About the only person who ever violated any of that was Earl Weaver and his famous temper but Weaver was so good and such a unique personality he was forgiven. When the late Johnny Oates managed the team, you couldn’t have a classier person representing you. Gillick was the same way and, arguably, the game’s best general manager of the last 30 years. All he did was build winners in Toronto (expansion team), Baltimore, Seattle and Philadelphia.
Now the Orioles are about to lose 100 games. Camden Yards is a ghost town except when Yankee and Red Sox fans show up to watch their team. There’s no guarantee the young pitchers will ever become good young pitchers.
Jon Miller was inducted into the Hall of Fame last Sunday. Gillick is a lock to go in someday soon. Even the Rays, who didn’t come into existence until a year after the Orioles last had a winning season, have built a solid team on a shoestring budget.
The Orioles, who made a proud baseball city so proud for so many years are an embarrassment. It is really a sad thing to watch.
Of course the Blue Jays went on to win and then they won against last night. In fact, Toronto is now 12-0 against the Orioles this season and has outscored them by a margin of 68-23. That’s simply embarrassing as is the Orioles record of 31-70. It is entirely possible that they will be mathematically eliminated before Labor Day, which is extremely difficult to do.
If you’re a baseball fan on any level this is very hard to watch. Right now, two of baseball’s great, traditional franchises have become utterly pathetic: the Orioles and the Pirates. The Pirates are, if possible, worse, even though their current record is marginally better than the Orioles. For one thing, they play in a weaker division. Worse than that, there are no signs that they have any interest in actually rebuilding. This will be their record-breaking 18th straight losing season and there is no sign that streak will end anytime soon.
The Orioles are experiencing ‘only,’ their 13th losing season in a row. I tend to pay more attention to their travails for two reasons: my daughter Brigid remains a diehard fan for reasons I can’t completely fathom (she liked the mascot when she was little and still loves going to Camden Yards even now) and because I have been going to games in Baltimore on a regular basis since I was in college.
I loved Memorial Stadium. It was a great old ballpark filled with terrific fans and, to be honest, I saw no reason for the Orioles to leave. Of course I was wrong. Camden Yards was the first of the new-look ballparks and even now, in its 19th year, might still be the best of them although PNC Park in Pittsburgh is spectacular as are the parks in Texas, Seattle and San Francisco—I have trouble keeping up with the corporate names on them.
Camden Yards was a miracle when it opened in 1992 and it revitalized both the ballclub and downtown Baltimore. The Orioles had been awful in 1991; they won 89 games in 1992 and were in the pennant race until the last 10 days. Every night was a sellout back then, the team routinely drew well over 3 million fans a season even though the ballpark seated no more than 45,000 if you squeezed everyone in very tight.
It was the Orioles, in the form of Cal Ripken Jr., who helped bring baseball back after the strike of 1994-1995. Ripken breaking Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive games played and the way he handled it made people believe in the game again. And, unlike the Mark McGwire-Sammy Sosa home run spree of 1998, it was real. The night of September 6, 1995 was one of the most joyous nights in sports I’ve ever witnessed.
For the next two years the Orioles made the playoffs, losing in the ALCS both years—to the Yankees in 1996 and the Indians the next year. There were storm clouds forming though: Peter Angelos, the new owner, was dubbed ‘Steinbrenner South’ (the pre-suspension Steinbrenner) because of his meddling. He ran off Pat Gillick—as good a general manager as there was in baseball. He feuded with Davey Johnson and ran him off too, losing one of the game’s best managers. He even fired Jon Miller (!!) as good a play-by-play man as there was in the game because Miller wasn’t enough of a homer.
Well, with the exception of Jim Palmer (who is untouchable because of his iconic status in Baltimore) Angelos has a bunch of homer announcers now. I certainly hope he’s happy listening to them cheerily describing one loss after another. (To be fair none of them can touch Rob Dibble in Washington when it comes to being homers, but that’s another story).
This was supposed to be the year when Andy McPhail’s work rebuilding the farm system and the franchise around young pitchers began to pay dividends. It wasn’t as if anyone expected the Orioles to challenge in the ridiculously tough American League East—remember the Blue Jays are in FOURTH place right now—but the thought was they’d be respectable; that they’d get 6-7 innings a night from the kids and maybe if everything fell right, they could break the 12-year losing skein.
Not so much. The team has been awful from the start—everyone included. Adam Jones was an All-Star a year ago; he’s hitting .273 with an OBP of .305 right now and 42 RBI’s. That’s still better than Nick Markakis, who has a solid batting average (.295) but just 33 (!!) runs batted in. The supposedly future All-Star catcher Matt Wieters was hitting .251 when he went on the disabled list earlier this month. The two most productive hitters have been journeymen Luke Scott and Ty Wigginton.
Worse though has been the pitching. The young guys have had some moments but they’ve been few and far between. They’ve all been on a shuttle to and from the minors all year long. The question is this: Growing pains or are they just not that good? If you think about it, pitching often comes down to scouting. Scouting is easy when you have the No. 1 pick and Stephen Strasburg is in the draft. The real challenge is finding guys later in the draft who become solid Major Leaguers.
Once, the Orioles were famous for finding pitching. They’re still the only team to ever have four 20-game winners on the same staff in a season in the modern era (1971). Even in the 90s they were able to sign a guy like Jimmy Key and draft a guy like Mike Mussina. They even had Jamie Moyer on the team but gave up on him a little too soon.
Plus, everything they did was done with class. There was something called, “The Orioles Way,” which meant you played the game hard and well every day, you conducted yourself with dignity as a player or a member of the organization and you were part of a team that almost always contended. About the only person who ever violated any of that was Earl Weaver and his famous temper but Weaver was so good and such a unique personality he was forgiven. When the late Johnny Oates managed the team, you couldn’t have a classier person representing you. Gillick was the same way and, arguably, the game’s best general manager of the last 30 years. All he did was build winners in Toronto (expansion team), Baltimore, Seattle and Philadelphia.
Now the Orioles are about to lose 100 games. Camden Yards is a ghost town except when Yankee and Red Sox fans show up to watch their team. There’s no guarantee the young pitchers will ever become good young pitchers.
Jon Miller was inducted into the Hall of Fame last Sunday. Gillick is a lock to go in someday soon. Even the Rays, who didn’t come into existence until a year after the Orioles last had a winning season, have built a solid team on a shoestring budget.
The Orioles, who made a proud baseball city so proud for so many years are an embarrassment. It is really a sad thing to watch.
Comments (6)
Time to sound off on the Mets, and time for changes at the top
Tue, Jul 27 2010 09:58
| Mets, Joe Torre, MLB, The Wilpons, Steve Somers, Jerry Manuel, Omar Minaya
| Permalink
As I have said here many times, I grew up in New York City and have been a life-long New York Mets fan. Actually, that’s not completely accurate. In 1992, when I was working on my first baseball book, “Play Ball,” the Mets clubhouse was filled with such a bunch of surly jerks—led by the always delightful Vince Coleman and Bobby Bonilla—that I found it impossible not to root against them. To know that Mets team was to hate them and their play lived down to their personalities.
It actually took me a few years to get past that experience and, to be honest, I wasn’t completely back on the bandwagon even in 2000 when they made The World Series. I thought Bobby Valentine was an excellent manager and certainly didn’t dislike him as much as some people dislike him but he wasn’t exactly Joe Torre, who is one of the most admirable men I’ve ever met in sports.
Somewhere along the line, boyhood memories kicked back in and I became live-and-die with the Mets again. Certainly by the time I worked on, ‘Living on the Black,’ in 2007 I was all the way back. The last 17 games of that season were torture, not just because they were bad for the book—which they were, especially when Tom Glavine blew sky-high on the last day of the season—but because I was a suffering fan.
I have tried—TRIED—really hard not to whine on this blog about the travails of the Mets during these past 13 months. I kept my mouth shut most of last year because they were devastated by injuries. I bit my tongue and said nothing about their consistent stonewalling on how serious injuries were and tried not to second-guess the medical staff because, seriously, what in the world do I know about how to treat a knee injury or, the latest in-vogue injury, the oblique. Is it just me or is EVERY baseball injury now an oblique injury? Remember for years no one had ever heard of a rotator cuff? Then every pitching injury was to the rotator cuff.
Steve Somers, easily WFAN’s best and smartest host, took to calling the Mets the “Medicalpolitans,” last winter when Carlos Beltran announced in January that he’d decided to have surgery on his knee. January? What happened to October? God knows the Mets weren’t playing any baseball that month. I was actually in my car, driving back from a basketball game in Charlottesville on the night the Mets announced the surgery. As usual they were optimistic about his recovery. They were figuring eight to ten weeks. He MIGHT miss the start of the season but he’d be back by the end of April at worst.
I remember saying to myself as I listened, “All-Star break.” That’s when I figured he might be back. Of course he didn’t come back until after the All-Star break and he now looks a little bit like Willie Mays in centerfield—in the 1973 World Series. There’s really only one position he should be playing right now: DH. Oh wait, they don’t have that in The National League.
Okay, okay, I’m sounding like a frustrated fan. Sorry. I AM a frustrated fan. I watched much too much of the west coast trip—my friend Frank Mastrandrea, who really should be committed, watched EVERY inning. To quote the great Lefty Driesell, ‘I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid.’ I watched a lot but not all of it. I WAS in bed at the end of the 14-inning game in Arizona because I KNEW what was going to happen.
Here’s what bothers me the most: The Mets went 2-9 on the west coast trip and scored 23 runs. They were shut out four times. They aren’t going to make any big moves at the trading deadline and I’m actually okay with that because I honestly don’t think they’re going anyplace this season. What’s bothersome though is that I believe they aren’t going to make a big move because the Wilpons can’t afford to add payroll or won’t add payroll. Why they paid $66 million for Jason Bay to prove they still had money this offseason when they needed pitching I’ll never know.
Of course the pitching hasn’t really been the problem. Johan Santana has been mostly great and they’ve caught lightning in a bottle with R.A. Dickey. Mike Pelfrey was great, then bad and I think will bounce back. Jonathon Niese has been good. They need a fifth starter. They also need a closer. When a pitcher nicknamed K-Rod can’t get anyone out with his fastball, you’ve got problems.
But, I’m sorry, the time has come for change at the top. Has Omar Minaya done an awful job? No. He’s done some things well, some things not so well. The same is true for Jerry Manuel. Some of his moves are baffling, but he has done a decent job.
But decent and not-awful are synonyms for mediocre. The Mets are much too willing to accept mediocrity. The Wilpons aren’t good at admitting mistakes, which is why Oliver Perez, the $36 million anchor around their necks, hasn’t been released and Luis Castillo, who has the range of a beached whale, is playing second base. They held meetings on Monday after the road trip—which would have been 1-10 if Phil Cuzzi wasn’t a complete incompetent—and say things are fine, we’re okay at 50-49 with the ship sinking fast.
I’m not saying that promoting Wally Backman from Brooklyn because he’s fiery and an ex-Met is the answer. In fact, I think it’s NOT the answer. But some thing has to be done right now, even if it is only to release Perez and Castillo to let the world—and the rest of the clubhouse know—that the days of claiming the Emperor has beautiful clothes are coming.
At season’s end, everyone has to go. Sorry, nothing personal, but it is time. The Mets need to find a Theo Epstein to be their general manager. Maybe Mark Shapiro would leave Cleveland. Maybe, for big dollars, Billy Beane can finally be lured out of Oakland. But Minaya’s time has come and gone. He has to take the hit for the Perez and Luis Castillo contracts; Bay too. He gets credit for Dickey, but that was a throwaway move that turned into gold.
I don’t think Joe Torre wants to come back and manage in New York at the age of 70. My preference would be an aggressive young up-and-comer type, someone who fits the profile of Willie Randolph six years ago. Don’t gag. Randolph brought life to the clubhouse, came within an inning of The World Series in 2006 and wasn’t the guy who crumbled completely at the end of 2007 although it did ultimately cost him his job. I wouldn’t mind seeing Ozzie Guillen in the Mets dugout or Terry Pendleton, the Braves hitting coach who is one of the bright guys in the game.
Finally, every doctor has to be fired. Seriously. I don’t see how any player can have confidence that he’s going to be treated properly at this point. John Maine just went and found his own doctor for shoulder surgery. Who can blame him? Jose Reye’s ‘oblique,’ injury was botched (again) from the get-go. He was in, he was out. He was going to be ready in a day, then it was ten days. The beat goes on.
Okay, I’ve vented. I’d fire the Wilpons too but that isn’t possible. I guess I should be happy that Vince Coleman isn’t playing centerfield—even if he might be faster than Beltran NOW.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
It actually took me a few years to get past that experience and, to be honest, I wasn’t completely back on the bandwagon even in 2000 when they made The World Series. I thought Bobby Valentine was an excellent manager and certainly didn’t dislike him as much as some people dislike him but he wasn’t exactly Joe Torre, who is one of the most admirable men I’ve ever met in sports.
Somewhere along the line, boyhood memories kicked back in and I became live-and-die with the Mets again. Certainly by the time I worked on, ‘Living on the Black,’ in 2007 I was all the way back. The last 17 games of that season were torture, not just because they were bad for the book—which they were, especially when Tom Glavine blew sky-high on the last day of the season—but because I was a suffering fan.
I have tried—TRIED—really hard not to whine on this blog about the travails of the Mets during these past 13 months. I kept my mouth shut most of last year because they were devastated by injuries. I bit my tongue and said nothing about their consistent stonewalling on how serious injuries were and tried not to second-guess the medical staff because, seriously, what in the world do I know about how to treat a knee injury or, the latest in-vogue injury, the oblique. Is it just me or is EVERY baseball injury now an oblique injury? Remember for years no one had ever heard of a rotator cuff? Then every pitching injury was to the rotator cuff.
Steve Somers, easily WFAN’s best and smartest host, took to calling the Mets the “Medicalpolitans,” last winter when Carlos Beltran announced in January that he’d decided to have surgery on his knee. January? What happened to October? God knows the Mets weren’t playing any baseball that month. I was actually in my car, driving back from a basketball game in Charlottesville on the night the Mets announced the surgery. As usual they were optimistic about his recovery. They were figuring eight to ten weeks. He MIGHT miss the start of the season but he’d be back by the end of April at worst.
I remember saying to myself as I listened, “All-Star break.” That’s when I figured he might be back. Of course he didn’t come back until after the All-Star break and he now looks a little bit like Willie Mays in centerfield—in the 1973 World Series. There’s really only one position he should be playing right now: DH. Oh wait, they don’t have that in The National League.
Okay, okay, I’m sounding like a frustrated fan. Sorry. I AM a frustrated fan. I watched much too much of the west coast trip—my friend Frank Mastrandrea, who really should be committed, watched EVERY inning. To quote the great Lefty Driesell, ‘I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid.’ I watched a lot but not all of it. I WAS in bed at the end of the 14-inning game in Arizona because I KNEW what was going to happen.
Here’s what bothers me the most: The Mets went 2-9 on the west coast trip and scored 23 runs. They were shut out four times. They aren’t going to make any big moves at the trading deadline and I’m actually okay with that because I honestly don’t think they’re going anyplace this season. What’s bothersome though is that I believe they aren’t going to make a big move because the Wilpons can’t afford to add payroll or won’t add payroll. Why they paid $66 million for Jason Bay to prove they still had money this offseason when they needed pitching I’ll never know.
Of course the pitching hasn’t really been the problem. Johan Santana has been mostly great and they’ve caught lightning in a bottle with R.A. Dickey. Mike Pelfrey was great, then bad and I think will bounce back. Jonathon Niese has been good. They need a fifth starter. They also need a closer. When a pitcher nicknamed K-Rod can’t get anyone out with his fastball, you’ve got problems.
But, I’m sorry, the time has come for change at the top. Has Omar Minaya done an awful job? No. He’s done some things well, some things not so well. The same is true for Jerry Manuel. Some of his moves are baffling, but he has done a decent job.
But decent and not-awful are synonyms for mediocre. The Mets are much too willing to accept mediocrity. The Wilpons aren’t good at admitting mistakes, which is why Oliver Perez, the $36 million anchor around their necks, hasn’t been released and Luis Castillo, who has the range of a beached whale, is playing second base. They held meetings on Monday after the road trip—which would have been 1-10 if Phil Cuzzi wasn’t a complete incompetent—and say things are fine, we’re okay at 50-49 with the ship sinking fast.
I’m not saying that promoting Wally Backman from Brooklyn because he’s fiery and an ex-Met is the answer. In fact, I think it’s NOT the answer. But some thing has to be done right now, even if it is only to release Perez and Castillo to let the world—and the rest of the clubhouse know—that the days of claiming the Emperor has beautiful clothes are coming.
At season’s end, everyone has to go. Sorry, nothing personal, but it is time. The Mets need to find a Theo Epstein to be their general manager. Maybe Mark Shapiro would leave Cleveland. Maybe, for big dollars, Billy Beane can finally be lured out of Oakland. But Minaya’s time has come and gone. He has to take the hit for the Perez and Luis Castillo contracts; Bay too. He gets credit for Dickey, but that was a throwaway move that turned into gold.
I don’t think Joe Torre wants to come back and manage in New York at the age of 70. My preference would be an aggressive young up-and-comer type, someone who fits the profile of Willie Randolph six years ago. Don’t gag. Randolph brought life to the clubhouse, came within an inning of The World Series in 2006 and wasn’t the guy who crumbled completely at the end of 2007 although it did ultimately cost him his job. I wouldn’t mind seeing Ozzie Guillen in the Mets dugout or Terry Pendleton, the Braves hitting coach who is one of the bright guys in the game.
Finally, every doctor has to be fired. Seriously. I don’t see how any player can have confidence that he’s going to be treated properly at this point. John Maine just went and found his own doctor for shoulder surgery. Who can blame him? Jose Reye’s ‘oblique,’ injury was botched (again) from the get-go. He was in, he was out. He was going to be ready in a day, then it was ten days. The beat goes on.
Okay, I’ve vented. I’d fire the Wilpons too but that isn’t possible. I guess I should be happy that Vince Coleman isn’t playing centerfield—even if he might be faster than Beltran NOW.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
Comments (5)
Does anyone really care about A-Rod hitting his 600th home run? Hall of Fame questions continue as well
Mon, Jul 26 2010 12:47
| MLB, Yankees, Alex Rodriguez
| Permalink
Sometime soon, Alex Rodriguez is going to hit his 600th home run. It might be as early as tonight in Cleveland, it might be a week from now—A-Rod tends to tighten up in any and all big situations—but it is going to happen.
If you were at Yankee Stadium this past weekend, you will no doubt say this is a big deal; that this is historic. Only six men in baseball history have hit 600 home runs so clearly Rodriguez will be entering an exclusive club. This past weekend, every time he came to the plate when the Yankees were playing the Kansas City Royals, specially marked baseballs were put in play and flashbulbs went off all around the ballpark on every pitch.
They went home disappointed. They did not get to see history.
My question is this: Who among us believes that A-Rod IS about to make history? Who among us—other than loyal Yankee fans—really and truly cares. Rodriguez is a confessed steroid user. He says he used during three seasons (2001-2003). Even if we believe his version of the story he is still tainted. The argument being made these days among my seamhead friends in the media is this: You can claim that everyone who has ever played the game is tainted in some way. Babe Ruth played in an all-white sport (not his fault) and Henry Aaron and Willie Mays played in the amphetamines era and, of course Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa and Rodriguez have all been sullied by steroids.
So, since everyone is guilty, no one is guilty. Right?
Wrong.
The greatest myth about the steroid era is that there were no rules against them until the union and owners finally got together on drug-testing in 2003. In fact, Fay Vincent banned steroids in 1991 after they were declared illegal by the government but the ban was toothless since there was no testing and the government wasn’t exactly storming clubhouses demanding that players be tested. The players knew the drugs were illegal and against the rules. They also knew they weren’t very likely to get caught.
Of course a lot of players have been caught: some by good reporting and some by The Mitchell Report. Others have simply been considered guilty due to overwhelming circumstantial evidence—which, given that this isn’t a court of law and we aren’t talking about sending people to jail in most cases—is evidence enough.
So, back to the question: Does anyone really care about A-Rod hitting his 600th home run?
My answer is no. I didn’t care when Bonds hit 756 and I was horrified when Henry Aaron showed up on that video congratulating him. It was bad enough that Bud Selig trailed him for a while during the chase; bad enough (though hardly surprising) that ESPN glorified him but really depressing when Aaron gave in and did the video.
Now, A-Rod isn’t as surly a guy as Bonds. He tries to say all the right things—though he often fails. But he’s just as tainted as far as I’m concerned and just as un-deserving of the Hall of Fame down the road as Bonds is undeserving of it now. Here’s my bet: A-Rod will make the Hall on the first ballot; second ballot at worst. Why? Because the excuse-makers are already coming out of the woodwork on his behalf; because there will be a greater passage of time and because people will by the argument that only 136 of his 868 career home runs were steroid-induced. And let’s not forget the ever-popular, “how many of the pitchers he faced were juiced?” argument.
Here’s what I think and have always thought: None of these guys should ever go in. Not Bonds, not Sosa, not Clemens, not A-Rod, not McGwire, not Palmeiro—none of them. If there’s any evidence at all (and in most of these cases there is plenty) then they’re guilty. My 600 home run club is Aaron, Ruth, Mays and Ken Griffey Jr. That’s it. Forget Bonds, forget Sosa and forget A-Rod whenever he gets there.
If you want to make the argument that eliminating all bad guys from the Hall of Fame would remove about 90 percent of the guys who are in there, that’s fine. But there is a difference between being a bad guy and being a cheat. These guys cheated the game and they damaged the game. Baseball is going to be talking about steroids for years to come. Rodriguez will probably play at least another five years and then it will be another five years before he’s on the Hall of Fame ballot. That guarantees that steroids will be talked about for at least 10 more years—if not longer.
So let’s drop the, ‘everyone’s guilty, so no one’s guilty,’ argument. If you think Ken Griffey Jr. is guilty of something, prove it. The same with Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn—some have made the argument that we don’t KNOW they were clean, thus they could be dirty, thus we should treat them as dirty. Seriously, people have said that.
So when A-Rod hits No. 600 I know it will be played and replayed everywhere and people will call it historic and wonder when No. 700 will come. John Sterling will practically bust a gut screaming, ‘A-Rod hit an A-bomb,’ (I truly hate that call and find it offensive) on Yankees radio and ESPN will probably do an hour long special called, “The Homer,” with A-Rod --on the 16th question--saying he plans to celebrate in…Miami.
Fine. I hope everyone has a good time. I’ll be watching the Mets not score any runs while Jerry Manuel insists that they are right on the verge of a breakthrough.
If you were at Yankee Stadium this past weekend, you will no doubt say this is a big deal; that this is historic. Only six men in baseball history have hit 600 home runs so clearly Rodriguez will be entering an exclusive club. This past weekend, every time he came to the plate when the Yankees were playing the Kansas City Royals, specially marked baseballs were put in play and flashbulbs went off all around the ballpark on every pitch.
They went home disappointed. They did not get to see history.
My question is this: Who among us believes that A-Rod IS about to make history? Who among us—other than loyal Yankee fans—really and truly cares. Rodriguez is a confessed steroid user. He says he used during three seasons (2001-2003). Even if we believe his version of the story he is still tainted. The argument being made these days among my seamhead friends in the media is this: You can claim that everyone who has ever played the game is tainted in some way. Babe Ruth played in an all-white sport (not his fault) and Henry Aaron and Willie Mays played in the amphetamines era and, of course Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa and Rodriguez have all been sullied by steroids.
So, since everyone is guilty, no one is guilty. Right?
Wrong.
The greatest myth about the steroid era is that there were no rules against them until the union and owners finally got together on drug-testing in 2003. In fact, Fay Vincent banned steroids in 1991 after they were declared illegal by the government but the ban was toothless since there was no testing and the government wasn’t exactly storming clubhouses demanding that players be tested. The players knew the drugs were illegal and against the rules. They also knew they weren’t very likely to get caught.
Of course a lot of players have been caught: some by good reporting and some by The Mitchell Report. Others have simply been considered guilty due to overwhelming circumstantial evidence—which, given that this isn’t a court of law and we aren’t talking about sending people to jail in most cases—is evidence enough.
So, back to the question: Does anyone really care about A-Rod hitting his 600th home run?
My answer is no. I didn’t care when Bonds hit 756 and I was horrified when Henry Aaron showed up on that video congratulating him. It was bad enough that Bud Selig trailed him for a while during the chase; bad enough (though hardly surprising) that ESPN glorified him but really depressing when Aaron gave in and did the video.
Now, A-Rod isn’t as surly a guy as Bonds. He tries to say all the right things—though he often fails. But he’s just as tainted as far as I’m concerned and just as un-deserving of the Hall of Fame down the road as Bonds is undeserving of it now. Here’s my bet: A-Rod will make the Hall on the first ballot; second ballot at worst. Why? Because the excuse-makers are already coming out of the woodwork on his behalf; because there will be a greater passage of time and because people will by the argument that only 136 of his 868 career home runs were steroid-induced. And let’s not forget the ever-popular, “how many of the pitchers he faced were juiced?” argument.
Here’s what I think and have always thought: None of these guys should ever go in. Not Bonds, not Sosa, not Clemens, not A-Rod, not McGwire, not Palmeiro—none of them. If there’s any evidence at all (and in most of these cases there is plenty) then they’re guilty. My 600 home run club is Aaron, Ruth, Mays and Ken Griffey Jr. That’s it. Forget Bonds, forget Sosa and forget A-Rod whenever he gets there.
If you want to make the argument that eliminating all bad guys from the Hall of Fame would remove about 90 percent of the guys who are in there, that’s fine. But there is a difference between being a bad guy and being a cheat. These guys cheated the game and they damaged the game. Baseball is going to be talking about steroids for years to come. Rodriguez will probably play at least another five years and then it will be another five years before he’s on the Hall of Fame ballot. That guarantees that steroids will be talked about for at least 10 more years—if not longer.
So let’s drop the, ‘everyone’s guilty, so no one’s guilty,’ argument. If you think Ken Griffey Jr. is guilty of something, prove it. The same with Cal Ripken Jr. and Tony Gwynn—some have made the argument that we don’t KNOW they were clean, thus they could be dirty, thus we should treat them as dirty. Seriously, people have said that.
So when A-Rod hits No. 600 I know it will be played and replayed everywhere and people will call it historic and wonder when No. 700 will come. John Sterling will practically bust a gut screaming, ‘A-Rod hit an A-bomb,’ (I truly hate that call and find it offensive) on Yankees radio and ESPN will probably do an hour long special called, “The Homer,” with A-Rod --on the 16th question--saying he plans to celebrate in…Miami.
Fine. I hope everyone has a good time. I’ll be watching the Mets not score any runs while Jerry Manuel insists that they are right on the verge of a breakthrough.
Comments (13)
Baseball continues to have too much bad umpiring, time for changes
Tue, Jul 20 2010 12:29
| Phil Cuzzi, Jim Joyce, MLB, Bud Selig, Joe Kerrigan, Jayson Stark
| Permalink
Forty-one years ago today Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. You would think by now the sports world would have replay figured out.
Only it doesn’t. In football, replay grinds games to a complete halt at both the NFL level and the college level and there is no guarantee that the call is going to be correct when all is said and done. Basketball is the same way. I was at a game last season where the officials went to replay on four consecutive plays because they didn’t think the clock had been set correctly. The game may still be going on for all I know. Hockey’s closer: Usually replay can determine if a goal has or has not been score fairly quickly or if a player was in the crease or had his stick above his shoulder. Even so, there are times when it takes a lot longer than it should to get the call right.
And then there is baseball. Bud Selig said last week at The All-Star game that there is, “little appetite,” for replay among people in the sport. That may be because baseball people have seen what replay has done to football and basketball and want no part of it. I actually get that although I also think if baseball were to add replay for safe-out calls like the one Phil Cuzzi so clearly blew on Sunday in San Francisco—not to mention the now infamous Jim Joyce blown perfect game call in Detroit earlier this season and for fair/foul calls—like the one Phil Cuzzi so clearly blew in the playoffs last October on Joe Mauer in the 11th inning of game two of Yankees-Twins (anyone see a pattern here?), it would be good for the game.
Actually there is another problem baseball has that has only a little to do with replay: there’s a lot of bad umpiring out there. One thing I do on vacation is watch a LOT of baseball; flipping from game-to-game most nights. Cuzzi was god-awful throughout the Mets-Giants game on Sunday but you can bet both MLB and the umpire’s union will defend him just as both almost always defend bad umpires.
My biggest problem is the strike zone. A few years ago when QuesTec was first used, umpires were virtually forced to start calling the high strike again. Until then, pitches at the belt were routinely being called balls. It now appears to me—and others—that they’ve gone back to squeezing pitchers on an almost nightly basis. I don’t know about you but I sit there all the time and watch a pitch and say, ‘that’s a strike,’ and the umpire never moves. I know those pitchtrax things are fallible but let me ask you a question: how often do you see a pitch outside that box called a strike? Almost never. How often do you see a pitch inside the box called a ball? Often.
On the night that Stephen Strasburg made his debut in Washington, I was sitting in the Pittsburgh dugout with Pirates pitching coach Joe Kerrigan and ESPN’s Jayson Stark (one of ESPN’s good guys). We were talking about pitch counts and the length of games. Kerrigan commented that the average game in 2010 required about 30 more pitches to complete than an average game did 20 years ago. Why, he asked, did we think that was the case.
“A lot of hitters are working counts more,” Stark said.
“Strike zone,” I said.
“Bingo,” Kerrigan said. “NO ONE calls the strike zone that’s in the rulebook. When was the last time you saw a pitch just below the letters called a strike? How about never. Check the rulebook. That’s a strike.”
There are other issues too—batters stepping out on every pitch; pitchers slowing down to an almost complete halt with runners on base—but the strike zone is an issue too. Not only does it mean more pitches are required but it means hitters are working with favorable counts far more often, leading to more hits, more walks and more runs—and more time. The only thing that has balanced some of that the last few years is drug-testing. There’s a lot less power in the game and a lot more warning track fly balls.
The first thing MLB should do is start firing bad umpires and let the union sue if it so desires. Why is Phil Cuzzi still working? He’s a proven incompetent with a bad attitude. So is C.B. Bucknor, who one pitcher described to me a couple of years ago as not being good enough to work in Double-A. There are plenty of others. Players get fired for not doing their job and so do managers. Why not umpires? The easiest game to officiate is baseball. The only serious challenge is balls and strikes about 99 percent of the time. If the other three guys have one tough call in a game, it’s a lot. A basketball official can have five block-charge decisions in the first five minutes of a game. Football officials have to decide what is or is not holding on almost every play. Hockey officials have to be on the move constantly and decide when physical contact is legal and when it’s not.
Umpires have the easiest job and the worst attitudes—generally speaking. It was too bad that Joyce, one of the best umpires and a very good guy, was in the middle of the blown perfect game. At the very least though, that call and that game and Joyce’s response to it should have sent a message to Selig that more replay—competently managed--is needed in the game.
You do NOT send the umpires into their locker room every time a replay is needed—the way they now do on home run calls. You have a replay official—not another umpire—in the press box who can hit a button to tell the home plate umpire he wants to look at a play when something appears blatantly wrong—like Joyce’s call in Detroit or Cuzzi’s call on Sunday. It would have taken under 30 seconds to get those two calls right. If the replay official needs more than 90 seconds to make a decision, the call on the field stands. Move on.
Of course baseball will continue to huff and puff and do nothing about any of this. Bad umpires will continue to umpire and there will be no replay anytime soon. On a different level it is sort of like drug-testing. MLB doesn’t want to wrangle with a union on something that is clearly needed so it will continue to duck the issue and say that all is well and, hey, look at our attendance!
Maybe they should call NASA for help. There doesn’t appear to be a whole lot going on over there these days.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
Only it doesn’t. In football, replay grinds games to a complete halt at both the NFL level and the college level and there is no guarantee that the call is going to be correct when all is said and done. Basketball is the same way. I was at a game last season where the officials went to replay on four consecutive plays because they didn’t think the clock had been set correctly. The game may still be going on for all I know. Hockey’s closer: Usually replay can determine if a goal has or has not been score fairly quickly or if a player was in the crease or had his stick above his shoulder. Even so, there are times when it takes a lot longer than it should to get the call right.
And then there is baseball. Bud Selig said last week at The All-Star game that there is, “little appetite,” for replay among people in the sport. That may be because baseball people have seen what replay has done to football and basketball and want no part of it. I actually get that although I also think if baseball were to add replay for safe-out calls like the one Phil Cuzzi so clearly blew on Sunday in San Francisco—not to mention the now infamous Jim Joyce blown perfect game call in Detroit earlier this season and for fair/foul calls—like the one Phil Cuzzi so clearly blew in the playoffs last October on Joe Mauer in the 11th inning of game two of Yankees-Twins (anyone see a pattern here?), it would be good for the game.
Actually there is another problem baseball has that has only a little to do with replay: there’s a lot of bad umpiring out there. One thing I do on vacation is watch a LOT of baseball; flipping from game-to-game most nights. Cuzzi was god-awful throughout the Mets-Giants game on Sunday but you can bet both MLB and the umpire’s union will defend him just as both almost always defend bad umpires.
My biggest problem is the strike zone. A few years ago when QuesTec was first used, umpires were virtually forced to start calling the high strike again. Until then, pitches at the belt were routinely being called balls. It now appears to me—and others—that they’ve gone back to squeezing pitchers on an almost nightly basis. I don’t know about you but I sit there all the time and watch a pitch and say, ‘that’s a strike,’ and the umpire never moves. I know those pitchtrax things are fallible but let me ask you a question: how often do you see a pitch outside that box called a strike? Almost never. How often do you see a pitch inside the box called a ball? Often.
On the night that Stephen Strasburg made his debut in Washington, I was sitting in the Pittsburgh dugout with Pirates pitching coach Joe Kerrigan and ESPN’s Jayson Stark (one of ESPN’s good guys). We were talking about pitch counts and the length of games. Kerrigan commented that the average game in 2010 required about 30 more pitches to complete than an average game did 20 years ago. Why, he asked, did we think that was the case.
“A lot of hitters are working counts more,” Stark said.
“Strike zone,” I said.
“Bingo,” Kerrigan said. “NO ONE calls the strike zone that’s in the rulebook. When was the last time you saw a pitch just below the letters called a strike? How about never. Check the rulebook. That’s a strike.”
There are other issues too—batters stepping out on every pitch; pitchers slowing down to an almost complete halt with runners on base—but the strike zone is an issue too. Not only does it mean more pitches are required but it means hitters are working with favorable counts far more often, leading to more hits, more walks and more runs—and more time. The only thing that has balanced some of that the last few years is drug-testing. There’s a lot less power in the game and a lot more warning track fly balls.
The first thing MLB should do is start firing bad umpires and let the union sue if it so desires. Why is Phil Cuzzi still working? He’s a proven incompetent with a bad attitude. So is C.B. Bucknor, who one pitcher described to me a couple of years ago as not being good enough to work in Double-A. There are plenty of others. Players get fired for not doing their job and so do managers. Why not umpires? The easiest game to officiate is baseball. The only serious challenge is balls and strikes about 99 percent of the time. If the other three guys have one tough call in a game, it’s a lot. A basketball official can have five block-charge decisions in the first five minutes of a game. Football officials have to decide what is or is not holding on almost every play. Hockey officials have to be on the move constantly and decide when physical contact is legal and when it’s not.
Umpires have the easiest job and the worst attitudes—generally speaking. It was too bad that Joyce, one of the best umpires and a very good guy, was in the middle of the blown perfect game. At the very least though, that call and that game and Joyce’s response to it should have sent a message to Selig that more replay—competently managed--is needed in the game.
You do NOT send the umpires into their locker room every time a replay is needed—the way they now do on home run calls. You have a replay official—not another umpire—in the press box who can hit a button to tell the home plate umpire he wants to look at a play when something appears blatantly wrong—like Joyce’s call in Detroit or Cuzzi’s call on Sunday. It would have taken under 30 seconds to get those two calls right. If the replay official needs more than 90 seconds to make a decision, the call on the field stands. Move on.
Of course baseball will continue to huff and puff and do nothing about any of this. Bad umpires will continue to umpire and there will be no replay anytime soon. On a different level it is sort of like drug-testing. MLB doesn’t want to wrangle with a union on something that is clearly needed so it will continue to duck the issue and say that all is well and, hey, look at our attendance!
Maybe they should call NASA for help. There doesn’t appear to be a whole lot going on over there these days.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
Comments (15)
George Steinbrenner, a larger-than-life figure; Bob Sheppard
Tue, Jul 13 2010 12:29
| Lou Carnesecca, George Steibrenner, MLB, Yankees, Mike Mussina, Bob Sheppard
| Permalink
When I heard this morning about George Steinbrenner’s death, I thought right away about something a good friend of Bob Knight’s once said about college basketball’s winningest coach: “He’s a jerk. But he knows he’s a jerk and he tries to make up for it.”
I didn’t know Steinbrenner 1/100th as well as I know Knight—I met him once, in 1985 when the late Shirley Povich took me into his box at Yankee Stadium and introduced me—but my sense is the same could be said of Steinbrenner.
He was a bully; an ego-maniac; a man who threw tantrums when he didn’t get his way; a man who hired and fired people on a whim and someone who could be absolutely impossible to deal with. Forget that he hired and fired Billy Martin five times, he made YOGI BERRA so angry that he stayed away from Yankee Stadium for years.
He was also someone who believed in redemption and second chances; who actively sought out people he had wronged to try to make things right; who was generous to employees or former employees in trouble and who had a sense of humor. He enjoyed the ‘Seinfeld,’ parody and took part in more than one commercial mocking his ego and willingness to do anything to win.
Certainly he was a larger-than-life figure. In fact, when I think of him I also think of something Eric Sevareid said on the day Lyndon Johnson died: “He was a great man with great flaws.”
That was Steinbrenner. Of course in death, as so often happens, he will be sainted by many. You can bet a year from now he’ll be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame even though he will be no more or less deserving in death than he was in life.
A lot of people will forget that this was a man who subverted federal law in making contributions to Richard Nixon’s re-election campaign and later gave a sleaze bag named Howie Spira $40,000 to dig up dirt on Dave Winfield. The latter may have been worse because it was so monumentally stupid.
Those same people will probably forget too that the best thing that happened to the Steinbrenner Yankees was Steinbrenner getting caught in the Spira caper. He had spent most of the 1980s mis-managing the team, constantly trading young players for old ones in search of instant gratification. The Yankees of the 1980s were best summed up by Frank Costanza: “How could you give up Jay Buhner for Ken Phelps?! What were you thinking?”
Because of Spira, Steinbrenner was suspended from baseball (initially for life, eventually for three years) by then-commissioner Fay Vincent. It was during the time that Steinbrenner was NOT in charge of the Yankees in the early-90s that Gene Michael and Buck Showalter rebuilt the team. The most important things they did were what they didn’t do: They did NOT dangle prospects Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera and Jorge Posada as trade bait to try to get good again fast. They were patient. They dealt with mediocrity for a few years and then, soon after Steinbrenner returned, those young players began to mature.
At the same time, Steinbrenner made two moves that he was castigated for, both of which turned out to be brilliant: He fired Showalter as his manager after the Yankees flamed out in the 1995 playoffs—their first postseason team in 14 years—and hired Joe Torre to replace him. Showalter probably did nothing to deserve getting fired but Torre’s calm approach, which was far different than the tightly-wound Showalter, proved to be just what the Yankees needed. From 1996 to 2000 they won four World Series and during Torre’s 12-year tenure they never missed the playoffs.
Torre was pushed out after the 2007 season, technically not fired since he was offered a one-year contract, but clearly pushed, as much by Steinbrenner’s sons as by Steinbrenner. The fact that he lasted as long as he did was a tribute to Torre but also to the fact that Steinbrenner had learned at least a little bit of patience after his exile from the game.
The first time I had a clear inkling that all wasn’t well with Steinbrenner came in February of 2007. I was at spring training working on, “Living on the Black,” the book I wrote on Mike Mussina and Tom Glavine. I was in the Yankees camp a couple of days after the players had reported and had spent some time with Mussina and Torre. I went upstairs to the press box to pick up some paperwork—media guides et al—and, after chatting with some people for a few minutes, headed to the elevator to leave.
There were several other reporters at the elevator. “They’re not letting us leave right now,” someone told me. “We have to wait a couple of minutes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“George,” was the answer.
Apparently Steinbrenner had visited the stadium—that was named for him two years later—that day. Mussina told me later he hadn’t come into the clubhouse to see the players. When he exited the building, the lobby area was sealed off—apparently The Boss didn’t want people to see him in his weakened condition. Once he was gone, we were free to leave. It wasn’t long after that day that the rumors began circulating that he wasn’t well.
Steinbrenner’s death means that two Yankee icons have died in the last three days. On Sunday morning, Bob Sheppard, who was the voice of Yankee Stadium for 56 years—“The voice of God,” Reggie Jackson famously called him—died at the age of 99.
I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Sheppard—through basketball. For many years, he did the PA at Alumni Hall at St. John’s, where he taught speech and diction. Whenever I was at St. John’s I would try to spend a few minutes before he had to go to work just listening to him talk and tell stories. People talk often about the way he pronounced the names of famous Yankees and visiting players but I always enjoyed hearing him say, “and the coach of the Redmen is Lou Carnesecca.” He didn’t stretch it out, no ‘Looooo,’ and he didn’t say, ‘Con-a-seca,’ the way so many in New York did. He said it exactly the way it was spelled. But it still gave you a chill when you heard him say it.
As it turned out, 2007 was his last year doing the PA at Yankee Stadium. He had his own table in the dining area in the bowels of Yankee Stadium and, when I had the chance to sit with him on a few occasions, he looked very frail—not surprising at 96. But when he would get in that PA booth, his voice was as majestic as ever.
Steinbrenner’s story will be the talk of the All-Star game tonight and it should be. There’s no doubting his impact on baseball and on the city of New York. But I certainly hope people won’t forget to honor Bob Sheppard too. For a lot of those lean “Ken Phelps,” years he was the one Yankee who never lost a step.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
I didn’t know Steinbrenner 1/100th as well as I know Knight—I met him once, in 1985 when the late Shirley Povich took me into his box at Yankee Stadium and introduced me—but my sense is the same could be said of Steinbrenner.
He was a bully; an ego-maniac; a man who threw tantrums when he didn’t get his way; a man who hired and fired people on a whim and someone who could be absolutely impossible to deal with. Forget that he hired and fired Billy Martin five times, he made YOGI BERRA so angry that he stayed away from Yankee Stadium for years.
He was also someone who believed in redemption and second chances; who actively sought out people he had wronged to try to make things right; who was generous to employees or former employees in trouble and who had a sense of humor. He enjoyed the ‘Seinfeld,’ parody and took part in more than one commercial mocking his ego and willingness to do anything to win.
Certainly he was a larger-than-life figure. In fact, when I think of him I also think of something Eric Sevareid said on the day Lyndon Johnson died: “He was a great man with great flaws.”
That was Steinbrenner. Of course in death, as so often happens, he will be sainted by many. You can bet a year from now he’ll be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame even though he will be no more or less deserving in death than he was in life.
A lot of people will forget that this was a man who subverted federal law in making contributions to Richard Nixon’s re-election campaign and later gave a sleaze bag named Howie Spira $40,000 to dig up dirt on Dave Winfield. The latter may have been worse because it was so monumentally stupid.
Those same people will probably forget too that the best thing that happened to the Steinbrenner Yankees was Steinbrenner getting caught in the Spira caper. He had spent most of the 1980s mis-managing the team, constantly trading young players for old ones in search of instant gratification. The Yankees of the 1980s were best summed up by Frank Costanza: “How could you give up Jay Buhner for Ken Phelps?! What were you thinking?”
Because of Spira, Steinbrenner was suspended from baseball (initially for life, eventually for three years) by then-commissioner Fay Vincent. It was during the time that Steinbrenner was NOT in charge of the Yankees in the early-90s that Gene Michael and Buck Showalter rebuilt the team. The most important things they did were what they didn’t do: They did NOT dangle prospects Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera and Jorge Posada as trade bait to try to get good again fast. They were patient. They dealt with mediocrity for a few years and then, soon after Steinbrenner returned, those young players began to mature.
At the same time, Steinbrenner made two moves that he was castigated for, both of which turned out to be brilliant: He fired Showalter as his manager after the Yankees flamed out in the 1995 playoffs—their first postseason team in 14 years—and hired Joe Torre to replace him. Showalter probably did nothing to deserve getting fired but Torre’s calm approach, which was far different than the tightly-wound Showalter, proved to be just what the Yankees needed. From 1996 to 2000 they won four World Series and during Torre’s 12-year tenure they never missed the playoffs.
Torre was pushed out after the 2007 season, technically not fired since he was offered a one-year contract, but clearly pushed, as much by Steinbrenner’s sons as by Steinbrenner. The fact that he lasted as long as he did was a tribute to Torre but also to the fact that Steinbrenner had learned at least a little bit of patience after his exile from the game.
The first time I had a clear inkling that all wasn’t well with Steinbrenner came in February of 2007. I was at spring training working on, “Living on the Black,” the book I wrote on Mike Mussina and Tom Glavine. I was in the Yankees camp a couple of days after the players had reported and had spent some time with Mussina and Torre. I went upstairs to the press box to pick up some paperwork—media guides et al—and, after chatting with some people for a few minutes, headed to the elevator to leave.
There were several other reporters at the elevator. “They’re not letting us leave right now,” someone told me. “We have to wait a couple of minutes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“George,” was the answer.
Apparently Steinbrenner had visited the stadium—that was named for him two years later—that day. Mussina told me later he hadn’t come into the clubhouse to see the players. When he exited the building, the lobby area was sealed off—apparently The Boss didn’t want people to see him in his weakened condition. Once he was gone, we were free to leave. It wasn’t long after that day that the rumors began circulating that he wasn’t well.
Steinbrenner’s death means that two Yankee icons have died in the last three days. On Sunday morning, Bob Sheppard, who was the voice of Yankee Stadium for 56 years—“The voice of God,” Reggie Jackson famously called him—died at the age of 99.
I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Sheppard—through basketball. For many years, he did the PA at Alumni Hall at St. John’s, where he taught speech and diction. Whenever I was at St. John’s I would try to spend a few minutes before he had to go to work just listening to him talk and tell stories. People talk often about the way he pronounced the names of famous Yankees and visiting players but I always enjoyed hearing him say, “and the coach of the Redmen is Lou Carnesecca.” He didn’t stretch it out, no ‘Looooo,’ and he didn’t say, ‘Con-a-seca,’ the way so many in New York did. He said it exactly the way it was spelled. But it still gave you a chill when you heard him say it.
As it turned out, 2007 was his last year doing the PA at Yankee Stadium. He had his own table in the dining area in the bowels of Yankee Stadium and, when I had the chance to sit with him on a few occasions, he looked very frail—not surprising at 96. But when he would get in that PA booth, his voice was as majestic as ever.
Steinbrenner’s story will be the talk of the All-Star game tonight and it should be. There’s no doubting his impact on baseball and on the city of New York. But I certainly hope people won’t forget to honor Bob Sheppard too. For a lot of those lean “Ken Phelps,” years he was the one Yankee who never lost a step.
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
Comments (4)
Congrats to the Blackhawks, Philly is a true sports town and the melancholy feeling at the end of seasons
Thu, Jun 10 2010 09:44
| Islanders, college football, NBA, college basketball, NHL, MLB, Michael Wilbon, Philadelphia Flyers, Chicago Blackhawks
| Permalink
Last night was a bit melancholy for me. The hockey season ended. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for The Blackhawks and for long-suffering fans in Chicago who went almost 50 years between Stanley Cups. There are few things in sports more dramatic than any overtime playoff game in hockey but when the Cup is decided in overtime it is quite a sight and a scene. That said, you had to feel something for The Flyers and their fans, seeing an unbelievable run end on what has to be considered a soft goal.
If it sounds like I’m Billy Martin on this—feeling strongly both ways—I am. I don’t have any special feelings, either yay or nay for either franchise. I like both cities a lot. I love going to Chicago, especially in the spring or fall. One of my favorite days in recent memory was last November when I flew in (yes, I actually flew) there from a speaking gig in Phoenix the day before Navy played at Notre Dame. I spent the afternoon just walking around The Magnificent Mile and over to Lake Michigan before meeting friends for dinner. The next morning I drove over to South Bend—the weather both days was spectacular, it was 67 (!!) at kickoff inside Notre Dame Stadium—and saw Navy beat Notre Dame. It was a great two days.
I also have a warm spot in my heart for Philly. I laugh when people here in Washington put down Philadelphia. There is no comparison between the two as sports towns. For one thing, all of Philly’s major sports venues are right in the same place in South Philadelphia. The politicians there managed to get it right rather than fighting with one another so that the football stadium ended up in a cow pasture somewhere out in Maryland the way it did here.
Wachovia Center and Verizon Center are similar. Lincoln Financial Field is about 100 times nicer than the stadium formerly named for Jack Kent Cooke because almost any stadium is 100 times nicer than that place. Nationals Park is a fine facility but Citizens Bank Park is magnificent, built so that one can see the Philadelphia skyline from almost anyplace inside the park.
Washington is a transient town and a Redskins town. Philadelphia is a SPORTS town. Oh sure we hear the stories about the drunks who makes fools of themselves at ballgames but I’d rather deal with that than an owner who has signs confiscated from fans trying to send out a message to their husband who is serving overseas.
There’s also The Big Five. While most of Washington’s college basketball teams play silly games to avoid playing one another, Philly’s five major D-1 teams (and you can add Drexel too) play each other every year—many of those games in college basketball’s best arena, The Palestra.
But I digress. Hockey. I love hockey and always have. This winter I actually saw some hope for my long-beleaguered Islanders and my schedule fell in such a way that I got to watch the team play on the hockey package a lot. The Olympics were spectacular—and, in my mind part of the reason the ratings for the finals have been so high. The NHL did a brilliant thing starting the Winter Classic and these playoffs, with the No. 7 seed facing the No. 8 seed in the Eastern Finals and one of the sport’s truly classic franchises ending up with the Cup, have been fabulous.
So here’s to the Blackhawks—present and future. Given the youth of their best players, they should be contenders for a while. Just hearing The United Center rocking again after several miserable years did my heart good.
So why melancholy? It’s something that dates to boyhood. I always feel a little sad when a season ends. I have this distinct memory of watching game seven of The Blackhawks-Canadiens final in 1971. It was a tough series to watch because the Rangers were my team then (no Islanders until ’72-’73) and they had lost to the Blackhawks in seven games—even though they had won game six in triple overtime on a goal by Pete Stemkowski.
I remember that game vividly because it was a school night (Thursday) and a lot of fans came with signs to Madison Square Garden that said, “Let there be Sunday.” I brought my radio, as I always did, to listen to Marv Albert during the game and remember him saying at one point during the overtime something like, “I just want to let our babysitter (can’t remember her name) know we’ll be home as soon as possible.”
There was Sunday, but the Blackhawks and Bobby Hull were too good. In the meantime, Ken Dryden had announced his arrival as a hockey force by single-handedly beating the defending champion Bruins. When the Canadiens then forced a game seven on a Sunday afternoon in Montreal during the finals, I was bereft: I wouldn’t get to see game seven because CBS only did Sunday games. Except CBS made arrangements to televise game seven—first hockey game on network TV in primetime I believe. The Canadiens came from 2-0 down in Chicago to win.
What I remember most about that game—besides Jacques Lemaire’s goal from about 80 feet—is feeling sad that hockey season was over. When did training camp begin? When could I go and buy tickets in the blue seats for early season Rangers games?
As much as my life has changed through the years, I STILL feel that way. The Islanders start camp when?—heck it’s a little more than three months away. Who will they take with the fifth pick in the draft? How good will the Caps be coming back from their disappointment in the playoffs? I’m PSYCHED.
Of course I feel the same way at the end of The World Series and The Final Four. I saw a story in the paper yesterday about the fact that college hoops season will begin on November 8th (I will get into the bogus nature of The Coaches vs. Cancer season-opening event another day. Put simply: Even if Maryland, Illinois, Pittsburgh or Texas LOSE one of their first two games they will still ‘advance,’ to the semifinals in New York. What a joke). And did the math in my head: five months until college hoops starts.
I’ll admit I don’t get as sad about the end of the NFL season or the NBA season in part because the NBA season never ends. (Note to Michael Wilbon: those of us who don’t love all things NBA as you do are not ‘meatheads.’ Come on, quit selling the product so hard all the time). I fall in the middle on college football because it SHOULD end on New Year’s Day and night. In the old days, when the Orange Bowl ended, I would get up after 10 hours of football, sigh and wonder what the best games would be of the first weekend in September. I’m willing to give that up for a true PLAYOFF but not for the ridiculous BCS. By the way, this coming season’s so-called national championship game is on January 10th. January 10th! You could have a full-blown eight-team playoff and the season would last exactly ONE week longer than it does now. What a joke.
Anyway, I was happy for the Blackhawks when Patrick Kane’s shot went in the net last night but a bit sad there would be no game 7. A game 7 in The Stanley Cup finals is about as intense and cool an event as there is in sports. On the other hand, the draft is in two weeks and the Islanders report to camp in, by my calculations, 93 days.
-------
John recently appeared on The Jim Rome Show (www.jimrome.com) to discuss 'Moment of Glory.' Click here to download, or listen in the player below:
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
The Golf Channel will be airing a documentary based on the book "Caddy for Life: The Bruce Edwards Story," with the premiere showing Monday, June 14 at 9 p.m. ET.
I can’t wait.
If it sounds like I’m Billy Martin on this—feeling strongly both ways—I am. I don’t have any special feelings, either yay or nay for either franchise. I like both cities a lot. I love going to Chicago, especially in the spring or fall. One of my favorite days in recent memory was last November when I flew in (yes, I actually flew) there from a speaking gig in Phoenix the day before Navy played at Notre Dame. I spent the afternoon just walking around The Magnificent Mile and over to Lake Michigan before meeting friends for dinner. The next morning I drove over to South Bend—the weather both days was spectacular, it was 67 (!!) at kickoff inside Notre Dame Stadium—and saw Navy beat Notre Dame. It was a great two days.
I also have a warm spot in my heart for Philly. I laugh when people here in Washington put down Philadelphia. There is no comparison between the two as sports towns. For one thing, all of Philly’s major sports venues are right in the same place in South Philadelphia. The politicians there managed to get it right rather than fighting with one another so that the football stadium ended up in a cow pasture somewhere out in Maryland the way it did here.
Wachovia Center and Verizon Center are similar. Lincoln Financial Field is about 100 times nicer than the stadium formerly named for Jack Kent Cooke because almost any stadium is 100 times nicer than that place. Nationals Park is a fine facility but Citizens Bank Park is magnificent, built so that one can see the Philadelphia skyline from almost anyplace inside the park.
Washington is a transient town and a Redskins town. Philadelphia is a SPORTS town. Oh sure we hear the stories about the drunks who makes fools of themselves at ballgames but I’d rather deal with that than an owner who has signs confiscated from fans trying to send out a message to their husband who is serving overseas.
There’s also The Big Five. While most of Washington’s college basketball teams play silly games to avoid playing one another, Philly’s five major D-1 teams (and you can add Drexel too) play each other every year—many of those games in college basketball’s best arena, The Palestra.
But I digress. Hockey. I love hockey and always have. This winter I actually saw some hope for my long-beleaguered Islanders and my schedule fell in such a way that I got to watch the team play on the hockey package a lot. The Olympics were spectacular—and, in my mind part of the reason the ratings for the finals have been so high. The NHL did a brilliant thing starting the Winter Classic and these playoffs, with the No. 7 seed facing the No. 8 seed in the Eastern Finals and one of the sport’s truly classic franchises ending up with the Cup, have been fabulous.
So here’s to the Blackhawks—present and future. Given the youth of their best players, they should be contenders for a while. Just hearing The United Center rocking again after several miserable years did my heart good.
So why melancholy? It’s something that dates to boyhood. I always feel a little sad when a season ends. I have this distinct memory of watching game seven of The Blackhawks-Canadiens final in 1971. It was a tough series to watch because the Rangers were my team then (no Islanders until ’72-’73) and they had lost to the Blackhawks in seven games—even though they had won game six in triple overtime on a goal by Pete Stemkowski.
I remember that game vividly because it was a school night (Thursday) and a lot of fans came with signs to Madison Square Garden that said, “Let there be Sunday.” I brought my radio, as I always did, to listen to Marv Albert during the game and remember him saying at one point during the overtime something like, “I just want to let our babysitter (can’t remember her name) know we’ll be home as soon as possible.”
There was Sunday, but the Blackhawks and Bobby Hull were too good. In the meantime, Ken Dryden had announced his arrival as a hockey force by single-handedly beating the defending champion Bruins. When the Canadiens then forced a game seven on a Sunday afternoon in Montreal during the finals, I was bereft: I wouldn’t get to see game seven because CBS only did Sunday games. Except CBS made arrangements to televise game seven—first hockey game on network TV in primetime I believe. The Canadiens came from 2-0 down in Chicago to win.
What I remember most about that game—besides Jacques Lemaire’s goal from about 80 feet—is feeling sad that hockey season was over. When did training camp begin? When could I go and buy tickets in the blue seats for early season Rangers games?
As much as my life has changed through the years, I STILL feel that way. The Islanders start camp when?—heck it’s a little more than three months away. Who will they take with the fifth pick in the draft? How good will the Caps be coming back from their disappointment in the playoffs? I’m PSYCHED.
Of course I feel the same way at the end of The World Series and The Final Four. I saw a story in the paper yesterday about the fact that college hoops season will begin on November 8th (I will get into the bogus nature of The Coaches vs. Cancer season-opening event another day. Put simply: Even if Maryland, Illinois, Pittsburgh or Texas LOSE one of their first two games they will still ‘advance,’ to the semifinals in New York. What a joke). And did the math in my head: five months until college hoops starts.
I’ll admit I don’t get as sad about the end of the NFL season or the NBA season in part because the NBA season never ends. (Note to Michael Wilbon: those of us who don’t love all things NBA as you do are not ‘meatheads.’ Come on, quit selling the product so hard all the time). I fall in the middle on college football because it SHOULD end on New Year’s Day and night. In the old days, when the Orange Bowl ended, I would get up after 10 hours of football, sigh and wonder what the best games would be of the first weekend in September. I’m willing to give that up for a true PLAYOFF but not for the ridiculous BCS. By the way, this coming season’s so-called national championship game is on January 10th. January 10th! You could have a full-blown eight-team playoff and the season would last exactly ONE week longer than it does now. What a joke.
Anyway, I was happy for the Blackhawks when Patrick Kane’s shot went in the net last night but a bit sad there would be no game 7. A game 7 in The Stanley Cup finals is about as intense and cool an event as there is in sports. On the other hand, the draft is in two weeks and the Islanders report to camp in, by my calculations, 93 days.
-------
John recently appeared on The Jim Rome Show (www.jimrome.com) to discuss 'Moment of Glory.' Click here to download, or listen in the player below:
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
The Golf Channel will be airing a documentary based on the book "Caddy for Life: The Bruce Edwards Story," with the premiere showing Monday, June 14 at 9 p.m. ET.
I can’t wait.
Comments (8)
Strasburg debut – really glad I went; Nats putting pieces together to make baseball fun in Washington
Wed, Jun 9 2010 11:53
| Adam Dunn, Ryan Zimmermann, Stan Kasten, Nyjer Morgan, MLB, Stephen Strasburg, Washington Nationals, Drew Storen
| Permalink
There are certain moments when you walk out of an event and say very simply: I’m glad I was there. Last night, at Nationals Park, was one of those nights.
Stephen Strasburg’s debut with The Washington Nationals was one of the most hyped events in Washington sports history. It was such a big deal that the guys on sports talk radio stations actually stopped talking about the Redskins for more than 15 minutes. In a town where getting anyone other than the core 15 to 20,000 fans to pay attention to the Nationals, everyone was talking about them for a solid week leading up to Strasburg’s ballyhooed arrival.
I have become one of those people who actually prefers quiet nights when the ballpark is half full and the press box is two-thirds empty. I’d rather not deal with the hassles that come with sellout crowds or major media events. (I guess this is a sign of getting old). But there are some things you have to go see if you have the chance to do so and this was one of those things.
So I went. I’m really glad I did.
It was absolutely impossible for the kid to live up to the hype that has followed him since he was drafted by the Nats a year ago. Every step on his road to DC has been chronicled in almost agonizing detail from the soap opera contract negotiations (with Scott Boras as your agent all negotiations are going to be drawn out soap operas) to the progression through extended spring training, the Arizona Fall League, spring training, Double-A Harrisburg and finally Syracuse in Triple-A before making the most anticipated arrival Washington has seen since Barack Obama showed up on January 20th, 2009.
And yet, he DID live up to the hype—and more. He threw one bad pitch, and it really wasn’t THAT bad, a change-up that Delwyn Young hit into the rightfield bleachers for a two-run home run in the fourth inning. After that, he completely shut the Pirates down the rest of the way, retiring the last 10 batters he faced, EIGHT on strikeouts. He struck out the last seven hitters in a row and came out to a standing ovation after throwing 94 pitches in seven innings.
His fastball hit 100 a couple of times and he was consistently between 97 and 99. His off-speed stuff was dazzling. But here’s what was really amazing: He walked NONE. He’s 21, he can throw four pitches and he has extraordinary control. Wow. Even some of the skeptical old baseball writers I was sitting with were open-mouthed by the time he was finished. I was too—and I’m usually one of those guys who pulls for the underdog, not the guy with the $15 million contract and Scott Boras as an agent.
What’s more, I’ve been hearing about Strasburg’s aversion to the media almost since day one. On his first day at extended spring training, Strasburg whined about having to talk to the media. I wrote a column for The Washington Post saying he better get over the notion that he was too big or too good to talk to the media because it was now part of his job.
I got a phone call the next day from Stan Kasten, the president of the Nats. I’ve known Stan a long time and we give each other a hard time frequently but I like him. He’s smart and he’s funny and he always returns a phone call.
“You’re wrong about Strasburg,” he said. “He’s a good kid. He doesn’t think he’s too big to talk to the media. He’s just shy.”
I was skeptical. That’s the way I am, especially when I sense guys are being coached to not say anything (often true of Boras players) or want the perks of stardom but not the responsibility. During the run-up to Strasburg’s arrival, The Washington Post covered everything he did. Dave Sheinen, The Post’s superb baseball writer, chronicled every game he pitched, every move he made. It wasn’t easy for Sheinen since he had no real access to Strasburg and had to get most of his insights into him from others. If you put me in a situation like that, where you can’t walk up to a guy in the clubhouse and chat with him casually, I’d get frustrated.
Sheinen’s a lot more patient than I am. What’s more, he told me that in spite of that, he liked the kid, that he really WAS shy and a little bit embarrassed by all the attention. What’s more, his teammates seemed to genuinely like him, which is always an important test for a star. Eddie Murray was never media-friendly but everyone in the Orioles clubhouse always swore by him as a teammate. You had to respect that about him even when he was growling at you.
My guess, based on last night, is that Strasburg isn’t a growler—although clearly talking to the media is never going to be his favorite sport. Kasten said before the game that as time goes on and the media requests go down—there were more than 200 accredited media at last night’s game making it feel like a postseason game on the field and in the clubhouses beforehand—the team will sit down with Strasburg and explain to him that the time has come to loosen the reins. It is a long baseball season. My guess is he’ll come to know the beat writers and a few other people and loosen up a little. He comes across as genuinely shy.
That aside, he is very clearly the real deal. You can talk about how lousy the Pirates are—and they are, especially with Ryan Doumit out of the lineup as he was last night—but Strasburg is going to pitch well against anyone and everyone. Sure, he’ll have some bad nights the way every pitcher does, and he’s not going to go 16-0 (I don’t think) the rest of the season.
But there is no question he has everything it takes to be a truly great pitcher as long as he stays healthy. Just as important he can give life to a franchise that has desperately needed some life the last four years. The Nationals do have some other pieces in place: Ryan Zimmerman is an All-Star; Adam Dunn and Nyjer Morgan are solid players; Pudge Rodriguez can still call a game as well as anyone and Ian Desmond has a chance to be an outstanding shortstop. There are some other young pitchers in the organization, notably starters John Lannan and Jordan Zimmermann (who has been injured but is close to coming back) and Drew Storen, the future closer, who was drafted the same day as Strasburg and arrived in the big leagues a couple of weeks before Strasburg.
Storen is the son of Mark Patrick, a very talented sports-talk show host in Indianapolis who I’ve known for years. Storen is the complete opposite of Strasburg when it comes to the media and hoopla. Before the game last night I was talking to him in the clubhouse and I said, “I guess you’ll be glad to get tonight behind you, huh?”
Storen laughed. “I love this stuff,” he said. “To me it’s all fun. The more the merrier.”
That’s another reason I think Strasburg is going to do very well. He’s got great talent, he’s part of an improving young team and he not only has a designated closer coming along with him but a designated spokesman.
Washington may actually be a fun place to be in the coming weeks, months and even years. When it comes to baseball, like Storen said, the more the merrier.
****
A note here to Gordon who has been a dedicated and well-worth-reading poster almost since the blog began: With all due respect, there was one reason I wrote the blog on Monday about Coach Wooden and Red Auerbach and Morgan Wootten: I’d already written a column strictly on Coach Wooden that was there to be ready by everyone. Believe me it had nothing to do with book sales especially since I wrote the Red book seven years ago. It’s still in print and it might sell a couple hundred copies a year—I honestly don’t know the numbers—but believe me, bringing it up had nothing to do with trying to sell any books, it had to do with trying to tell a story.
-------
John recently appeared on The Jim Rome Show (www.jimrome.com) to discuss 'Moment of Glory.' Click here to download, or listen in the player below:
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
The Golf Channel will be airing a documentary based on the book "Caddy for Life: The Bruce Edwards Story," with the premiere showing Monday, June 14 at 9 p.m. ET.
Stephen Strasburg’s debut with The Washington Nationals was one of the most hyped events in Washington sports history. It was such a big deal that the guys on sports talk radio stations actually stopped talking about the Redskins for more than 15 minutes. In a town where getting anyone other than the core 15 to 20,000 fans to pay attention to the Nationals, everyone was talking about them for a solid week leading up to Strasburg’s ballyhooed arrival.
I have become one of those people who actually prefers quiet nights when the ballpark is half full and the press box is two-thirds empty. I’d rather not deal with the hassles that come with sellout crowds or major media events. (I guess this is a sign of getting old). But there are some things you have to go see if you have the chance to do so and this was one of those things.
So I went. I’m really glad I did.
It was absolutely impossible for the kid to live up to the hype that has followed him since he was drafted by the Nats a year ago. Every step on his road to DC has been chronicled in almost agonizing detail from the soap opera contract negotiations (with Scott Boras as your agent all negotiations are going to be drawn out soap operas) to the progression through extended spring training, the Arizona Fall League, spring training, Double-A Harrisburg and finally Syracuse in Triple-A before making the most anticipated arrival Washington has seen since Barack Obama showed up on January 20th, 2009.
And yet, he DID live up to the hype—and more. He threw one bad pitch, and it really wasn’t THAT bad, a change-up that Delwyn Young hit into the rightfield bleachers for a two-run home run in the fourth inning. After that, he completely shut the Pirates down the rest of the way, retiring the last 10 batters he faced, EIGHT on strikeouts. He struck out the last seven hitters in a row and came out to a standing ovation after throwing 94 pitches in seven innings.
His fastball hit 100 a couple of times and he was consistently between 97 and 99. His off-speed stuff was dazzling. But here’s what was really amazing: He walked NONE. He’s 21, he can throw four pitches and he has extraordinary control. Wow. Even some of the skeptical old baseball writers I was sitting with were open-mouthed by the time he was finished. I was too—and I’m usually one of those guys who pulls for the underdog, not the guy with the $15 million contract and Scott Boras as an agent.
What’s more, I’ve been hearing about Strasburg’s aversion to the media almost since day one. On his first day at extended spring training, Strasburg whined about having to talk to the media. I wrote a column for The Washington Post saying he better get over the notion that he was too big or too good to talk to the media because it was now part of his job.
I got a phone call the next day from Stan Kasten, the president of the Nats. I’ve known Stan a long time and we give each other a hard time frequently but I like him. He’s smart and he’s funny and he always returns a phone call.
“You’re wrong about Strasburg,” he said. “He’s a good kid. He doesn’t think he’s too big to talk to the media. He’s just shy.”
I was skeptical. That’s the way I am, especially when I sense guys are being coached to not say anything (often true of Boras players) or want the perks of stardom but not the responsibility. During the run-up to Strasburg’s arrival, The Washington Post covered everything he did. Dave Sheinen, The Post’s superb baseball writer, chronicled every game he pitched, every move he made. It wasn’t easy for Sheinen since he had no real access to Strasburg and had to get most of his insights into him from others. If you put me in a situation like that, where you can’t walk up to a guy in the clubhouse and chat with him casually, I’d get frustrated.
Sheinen’s a lot more patient than I am. What’s more, he told me that in spite of that, he liked the kid, that he really WAS shy and a little bit embarrassed by all the attention. What’s more, his teammates seemed to genuinely like him, which is always an important test for a star. Eddie Murray was never media-friendly but everyone in the Orioles clubhouse always swore by him as a teammate. You had to respect that about him even when he was growling at you.
My guess, based on last night, is that Strasburg isn’t a growler—although clearly talking to the media is never going to be his favorite sport. Kasten said before the game that as time goes on and the media requests go down—there were more than 200 accredited media at last night’s game making it feel like a postseason game on the field and in the clubhouses beforehand—the team will sit down with Strasburg and explain to him that the time has come to loosen the reins. It is a long baseball season. My guess is he’ll come to know the beat writers and a few other people and loosen up a little. He comes across as genuinely shy.
That aside, he is very clearly the real deal. You can talk about how lousy the Pirates are—and they are, especially with Ryan Doumit out of the lineup as he was last night—but Strasburg is going to pitch well against anyone and everyone. Sure, he’ll have some bad nights the way every pitcher does, and he’s not going to go 16-0 (I don’t think) the rest of the season.
But there is no question he has everything it takes to be a truly great pitcher as long as he stays healthy. Just as important he can give life to a franchise that has desperately needed some life the last four years. The Nationals do have some other pieces in place: Ryan Zimmerman is an All-Star; Adam Dunn and Nyjer Morgan are solid players; Pudge Rodriguez can still call a game as well as anyone and Ian Desmond has a chance to be an outstanding shortstop. There are some other young pitchers in the organization, notably starters John Lannan and Jordan Zimmermann (who has been injured but is close to coming back) and Drew Storen, the future closer, who was drafted the same day as Strasburg and arrived in the big leagues a couple of weeks before Strasburg.
Storen is the son of Mark Patrick, a very talented sports-talk show host in Indianapolis who I’ve known for years. Storen is the complete opposite of Strasburg when it comes to the media and hoopla. Before the game last night I was talking to him in the clubhouse and I said, “I guess you’ll be glad to get tonight behind you, huh?”
Storen laughed. “I love this stuff,” he said. “To me it’s all fun. The more the merrier.”
That’s another reason I think Strasburg is going to do very well. He’s got great talent, he’s part of an improving young team and he not only has a designated closer coming along with him but a designated spokesman.
Washington may actually be a fun place to be in the coming weeks, months and even years. When it comes to baseball, like Storen said, the more the merrier.
****
A note here to Gordon who has been a dedicated and well-worth-reading poster almost since the blog began: With all due respect, there was one reason I wrote the blog on Monday about Coach Wooden and Red Auerbach and Morgan Wootten: I’d already written a column strictly on Coach Wooden that was there to be ready by everyone. Believe me it had nothing to do with book sales especially since I wrote the Red book seven years ago. It’s still in print and it might sell a couple hundred copies a year—I honestly don’t know the numbers—but believe me, bringing it up had nothing to do with trying to sell any books, it had to do with trying to tell a story.
-------
John recently appeared on The Jim Rome Show (www.jimrome.com) to discuss 'Moment of Glory.' Click here to download, or listen in the player below:
------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
The Golf Channel will be airing a documentary based on the book "Caddy for Life: The Bruce Edwards Story," with the premiere showing Monday, June 14 at 9 p.m. ET.
Comments (8)
Galarraga-Joyce saga continues – in aftermath, everyone on target except for Bud Selig
Fri, Jun 4 2010 10:05
| Ken Burns, Jim Joyce, Detroit Tigers, Armando Glaarraga, MLB, Officials, Bud Selig, Jim Leyland
| Permalink
It is remarkable how the Armando Galarraga-Jim Joyce saga has continued to dominate the news in the past 48 hours. Remarkable, actually, in a good way because both men have behaved admirably in the wake of Joyce’s blown call on Wednesday. The story has become one of those that transcends sports. Both The New York Times and The Washington Post had stories on the front page of the newspaper this morning and The Post’s editorial page, which generally is completely unaware that sports exists outside the DC beltway, ran an editorial on the story—although it somehow found a way to tie it all back to how it affects Washington.
In the news business we call that the, “Dwight D. Eisenhower, who once flew over Trenton….was elected President last night,” approach to journalism.
Anyway, back to Galarraga and Joyce—and Bud Selig who has now become a major part of the ongoing saga.
The feel good part of this story is the way all of those directly involved have handled it. Joyce not only admitted he had gotten the call wrong once he saw it on replay, he sought out Galarraga to tell him how sorry he was about it. Galarraga accepted the apology and went out of his way to talk about how classy it was of Joyce to come and find him.
On Thursday, the Tigers and Indians wrapped up their series in Detroit with a 1 o’clock game. With Joyce scheduled to work the plate, there was all sorts of potential for disaster and trouble. When Don Denkinger worked the plate in game 7 of the 1985 World Series after his game 6 gaffe at first base, he ended up tossing both Whitey Herzog and Juaquin Andujar. That game was played in Kansas City, not St. Louis. God only knows what would have happened if the Cardinals had been the home team that night.
As has often been the case throughout his career, Tigers manager Jim Leyland did the exact right thing: He sent Galarraga to the plate with the Tigers lineup card. As soon as Galarraga walked up to Joyce and shook his hand, the fans who had been booing the umpires when they walked onto the field stopped. Many stood to applaud Galarraga. Joyce gave him a pat on the back as the meeting broke up and then turned into the Tigers dugout and pointed at Leyland to say, ‘thank-you.’
It was one of those cool sports moments where everyone gets it right. The Tigers won a 12-6 slugfest and there wasn’t any sign of trouble in Comerica Park throughout the afternoon. Kudos to all—including the Detroit fans.
Meanwhile, Selig was doing his best/worst imitation of Hamlet. He had an almost unique opportunity to right a wrong and send everyone home happy and he flat out blew it. All he had to do was say this: “After looking at the replay over and over; after hearing what Jim Joyce and Jason Donald (the Indians baserunner on the blown call) had to say and given the unique circumstances: the game was over if the call was made correctly AND by overruling it I am not changing the result in any way at all—it was 3-0 Tigers when the call was made and the final score was 3-0 Tigers with no further baserunners—I’m invoking my ‘best interests of the game,’ powers to reverse the call. Jason Donald was out. Armando Galarraga pitched a perfect game.”
There is NO reasonable argument against this. To those who say Selig is setting a dangerous precedent I say this: fine. Let him declare that at any time in the future if a pitcher gets the first 26 outs of a game and then fails to get the 27th on a clearly blown call by an umpire who instantly says he blew the call, he will do the same thing. There’s your precedent. Now let’s sit back and wait for it to happen again.
Last night, Ken Burns, the noted baseball historian was on Keith Olbermann’s show. He started going on about ‘unraveling the sweater,’ by reversing this call. He brought up Bucky Dent’s home run, asking if it should be taken away because Dent may have used a corked bat. He mentioned the Giants stealing signs prior to the Bobby Thomson home run and Mark McGwire’s steroid induced home runs.
Oh please. Those are ridiculous analogies. For one thing, they involve cheating, not an out-and-out honest mistake that has been confessed to by the person who made the mistake. Second, a million different things could have happened—we’ll never know—if there was no corked bat (maybe Dent doubles; maybe the game is played differently if the Yankees aren’t ahead after Dent’s at bat, WE DON’T KNOW); same thing with Bobby Thomson or any other example like that baseball people might want to bring up.
Here, we know. There are no ‘what-ifs,’ involved. If Joyce makes the right call, the game is over. Even in the case of Denkinger, the Cardinals still had chances to win the game—all Denkinger did was give the Royals a baserunner leading off the ninth. It was a horrible mistake but there is no way you could go back and correct it once the game was over.
This can be corrected. Put simply, it is the right thing to do. Selig already changed the rules on postseason rainouts in the middle of a World Series, so why not do this? It would be the right thing for Galarraga certainly; it would save Joyce, a good umpire and a good man, a lifetime of carrying the label of blowing this call and it would be—wait for it—RIGHT FOR BASEBALL. If Ken Burns or some of the so-called ‘purists,’ want to get into a dither over it, let them. Most people who love the game would be happy that justice was done and there’s no harm done to anyone in the process. As I said, the next time something EXACTLY like this happens, let the commissioner do the same thing. My guess is Bob Costas’s great grandson will be commissioner by the time this exact circumstance comes up again.
Selig was absolutely babbling yesterday when he went on about how great everyone in the game was; how proud he was of Galarraga and Joyce and everyone else who has ever set foot on a baseball field. Remember, I’m not a Bud-basher. I like the guy and I think he’s done a lot of things right as commissioner. This time though the Selig-gyrations need to just stop and he needs to just do the right thing if only to get the governor of Michigan to stop issuing proclamations.
Here’s the scorecard right now: Galarraga—perfect. Leyland—perfect. Joyce—trying desperately to do anything possible to make up for his mistake. Tiger fans—fabulous. The leader of the sport?—hiding under a rock. Come on Bud, crawl out from under there and get this one right. Everyone else involved has brought honor to the game since Wednesday. Now it's your turn.
--------------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
To listen to 'The Bob and Tom Show' interview about 'Moment of Glory', please click the play button below:
In the news business we call that the, “Dwight D. Eisenhower, who once flew over Trenton….was elected President last night,” approach to journalism.
Anyway, back to Galarraga and Joyce—and Bud Selig who has now become a major part of the ongoing saga.
The feel good part of this story is the way all of those directly involved have handled it. Joyce not only admitted he had gotten the call wrong once he saw it on replay, he sought out Galarraga to tell him how sorry he was about it. Galarraga accepted the apology and went out of his way to talk about how classy it was of Joyce to come and find him.
On Thursday, the Tigers and Indians wrapped up their series in Detroit with a 1 o’clock game. With Joyce scheduled to work the plate, there was all sorts of potential for disaster and trouble. When Don Denkinger worked the plate in game 7 of the 1985 World Series after his game 6 gaffe at first base, he ended up tossing both Whitey Herzog and Juaquin Andujar. That game was played in Kansas City, not St. Louis. God only knows what would have happened if the Cardinals had been the home team that night.
As has often been the case throughout his career, Tigers manager Jim Leyland did the exact right thing: He sent Galarraga to the plate with the Tigers lineup card. As soon as Galarraga walked up to Joyce and shook his hand, the fans who had been booing the umpires when they walked onto the field stopped. Many stood to applaud Galarraga. Joyce gave him a pat on the back as the meeting broke up and then turned into the Tigers dugout and pointed at Leyland to say, ‘thank-you.’
It was one of those cool sports moments where everyone gets it right. The Tigers won a 12-6 slugfest and there wasn’t any sign of trouble in Comerica Park throughout the afternoon. Kudos to all—including the Detroit fans.
Meanwhile, Selig was doing his best/worst imitation of Hamlet. He had an almost unique opportunity to right a wrong and send everyone home happy and he flat out blew it. All he had to do was say this: “After looking at the replay over and over; after hearing what Jim Joyce and Jason Donald (the Indians baserunner on the blown call) had to say and given the unique circumstances: the game was over if the call was made correctly AND by overruling it I am not changing the result in any way at all—it was 3-0 Tigers when the call was made and the final score was 3-0 Tigers with no further baserunners—I’m invoking my ‘best interests of the game,’ powers to reverse the call. Jason Donald was out. Armando Galarraga pitched a perfect game.”
There is NO reasonable argument against this. To those who say Selig is setting a dangerous precedent I say this: fine. Let him declare that at any time in the future if a pitcher gets the first 26 outs of a game and then fails to get the 27th on a clearly blown call by an umpire who instantly says he blew the call, he will do the same thing. There’s your precedent. Now let’s sit back and wait for it to happen again.
Last night, Ken Burns, the noted baseball historian was on Keith Olbermann’s show. He started going on about ‘unraveling the sweater,’ by reversing this call. He brought up Bucky Dent’s home run, asking if it should be taken away because Dent may have used a corked bat. He mentioned the Giants stealing signs prior to the Bobby Thomson home run and Mark McGwire’s steroid induced home runs.
Oh please. Those are ridiculous analogies. For one thing, they involve cheating, not an out-and-out honest mistake that has been confessed to by the person who made the mistake. Second, a million different things could have happened—we’ll never know—if there was no corked bat (maybe Dent doubles; maybe the game is played differently if the Yankees aren’t ahead after Dent’s at bat, WE DON’T KNOW); same thing with Bobby Thomson or any other example like that baseball people might want to bring up.
Here, we know. There are no ‘what-ifs,’ involved. If Joyce makes the right call, the game is over. Even in the case of Denkinger, the Cardinals still had chances to win the game—all Denkinger did was give the Royals a baserunner leading off the ninth. It was a horrible mistake but there is no way you could go back and correct it once the game was over.
This can be corrected. Put simply, it is the right thing to do. Selig already changed the rules on postseason rainouts in the middle of a World Series, so why not do this? It would be the right thing for Galarraga certainly; it would save Joyce, a good umpire and a good man, a lifetime of carrying the label of blowing this call and it would be—wait for it—RIGHT FOR BASEBALL. If Ken Burns or some of the so-called ‘purists,’ want to get into a dither over it, let them. Most people who love the game would be happy that justice was done and there’s no harm done to anyone in the process. As I said, the next time something EXACTLY like this happens, let the commissioner do the same thing. My guess is Bob Costas’s great grandson will be commissioner by the time this exact circumstance comes up again.
Selig was absolutely babbling yesterday when he went on about how great everyone in the game was; how proud he was of Galarraga and Joyce and everyone else who has ever set foot on a baseball field. Remember, I’m not a Bud-basher. I like the guy and I think he’s done a lot of things right as commissioner. This time though the Selig-gyrations need to just stop and he needs to just do the right thing if only to get the governor of Michigan to stop issuing proclamations.
Here’s the scorecard right now: Galarraga—perfect. Leyland—perfect. Joyce—trying desperately to do anything possible to make up for his mistake. Tiger fans—fabulous. The leader of the sport?—hiding under a rock. Come on Bud, crawl out from under there and get this one right. Everyone else involved has brought honor to the game since Wednesday. Now it's your turn.
--------------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
To listen to 'The Bob and Tom Show' interview about 'Moment of Glory', please click the play button below:
Comments (13)
Last night’s imperfect game, renewed calls for expanded replay; Remarkable day in sports overshadowed
Thu, Jun 3 2010 09:19
| Jim Joyce, Detroit Tigers, Armando Glaarraga, MLB, Officials
| Permalink
It is hard to know where to begin in discussing what will be known forever as Armando Galarraga’s imperfect game. Or maybe it will be known as Jim Joyce’s imperfect game because it was the umpire who broke up Galarraga’s perfect effort not the pitcher or a Cleveland Indians hitter.
By now everyone has seen the replay. Last night, in Comerica Park, Galarraga, who didn’t even begin the season in The Major Leagues after an injury-plagued 2009, retired the first 26 Indians. He got the first out of the ninth inning on an extraordinary running catch in centerfield by Austin Jackson on a long fly ball by Mark Grudzielanek. Jackson had his back to the plate on a play that looked a little bit like Willie Mays’s catch on Vic Wertz in the 1954 World Series, the difference being there was no one on base for Jackson to turn around and double up.
But it was against the Indians and it certainly seemed that fate and history were riding with Galarraga at that moment. (It was also a reminder that the Yankees may long regret trading Jackson). Galarraga got the second out easily and up to the plate came shortstop Jason Donald. He hit a grounder wide of first that Miguel Cabrera ranged right to field. Cabrera fed Galarraga and there it was, the 21st perfect game in history—the third (remarkably) this season.
Except that Joyce blew the call. Just flat out missed what was a routine call for a Major League umpire, especially a respected 22-year-veteran. You could see him start up with his arm for an instant, then change his mind and give the safe signal. Why he did that, what he thought he saw at that moment, is a question that will haunt him for a long, long time.
To his credit, Joyce didn’t try to duck and cover when the game was over—as many umpires and officials do after they blow a call. He made no excuses. “I just cost that kid a perfect game,” he said. “I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw until I saw the replay. It was the biggest call of my career.”
Sadly, it was. Joyce can get every call right for the rest of his life and he’s never going to get past this. Don Denkinger certainly never got past his horribly blown call at first base in the 1985 World Series. That call came in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 6 with the Cardinals leading 1-0. Jorge Orta led off for the Royals and hit a ground ball wide of first (sound familiar?) that Jack Clark fielded and fed to pitcher Todd Worrell. Denkinger called Orta safe when he was clearly out. From there, the Royals built a two-run rally, aided by a passed ball and pinch-hitter Dane Iorg’s two run single, to win 2-1. They then won game 7 in a rout, 11-0.
As badly as Denkinger blew the call, the Cardinals still had chances to win, just as the Red Sox had a game seven (and led 3-0 in the sixth inning) in the 1986 World Series after Bill Buckner booted Mookie Wilson’s grounder to end game six. What’s more, the Mets had already tied the score when Buckner made his error so even if he had made the play, the game would not have been over.
This was game over. No ifs ands or buts. Joyce denied Galarraga a perfect game and there’s nothing that can be done to change that. Like Joyce, Denkinger had a distinguished career as an umpire—he worked in the big leagues for 30 years and was assigned to four World Series and multiple All-Star games and League Championship Series before and after, ‘The Call,’—but his legacy is that call. The same will be true of Joyce although one can only hope he won’t receive death threats the way Denkinger did. His willingness to admit his mistake instantly should help him. He even went so far as to ask to speak to Galarraga to personally apologize to him and was reportedly near tears talking about what had happened. Galarraga said after the game that he forgave him. If Galarraga forgives him, the rest of the world should too.
Of course the blown call will again raise questions about both umpiring and instant replay. Put simply, umpiring needs to be better. There are too many blown calls and too many hot heads umpiring games. When an umpire goes off, the way Joe West did a week ago on Mark Buehrle; the way Bill Hohn did recently on Roy Oswalt; HE should be subject to public discipline just as the player might be. Bad umpires should be demoted and/or fired the same way bad players are demoted and/or fired. Good ones should be given raises.
Replay is a far more controversial topic. No one wants to see baseball games take any longer than they already take. (The game in Detroit last night lasted one hour and 44 minutes, proving that with good pitching and batters standing in the box and hitting, games don’t have to take forever). But there is a way to allow replay for calls like this one without any major delays.
First, take replay out of the umpiring crew’s hands. Under the current rule, if there is a home run call in question, the four umpires all go back to their locker room, call up the replay, discuss it and then come out and announce the call. That’s not the way to do it.
The way to do it is to have a fifth umpire in a replay booth—just like in football—who has the authority if he sees a call that looks WRONG—not questionable, WRONG—to contact the home plate umpire and say, ‘give me a minute to look at this.’ Obviously balls-and-strikes would never be involved in replay. In fact, there should only be three circumstances when replay could be invoked: home runs, out/safe; catch or no catch. It would be nice to add fair/foul to that list but once an umpire calls a ball foul, you can’t go back and restart the play.
If a play is bang-bang or too close to call in any way, the call stands. If the press box ump looks at all angles and can’t tell right away a mistake was made, the call on the field stands. There should never be a delay of more than two minutes. Last night it would not have taken that long for the call to be corrected.
If a call is clearly wrong—as with Joyce last night—the fifth umpire lets the plate umpire know. How much do you think Jim Joyce wishes that system was in place last night? Ninety-nine percent of the officials I’ve met in sports through the years are good guys who want to get it right. I have no doubt that Joyce falls into that category.
All of us make mistakes in our jobs. The number of times I’ve been bailed out by editors is uncountable. Other times, I haven’t been bailed out and had to correct a mistake—including one in which I identified the wrong umpire on a blown call in the 1992 World Series. I felt pretty sick about that one. The only saving grace was that there was another printing to get it right.
Umpires don’t get another printing and they don’t have editors. But they CAN have some backup in the press box. Major League Baseball put in replay in midseason a couple of years ago, it can expand it and improve it in midseason now. It won’t give Armando Galarraga his perfect game back or keep Jim Joyce out of baseball history, but in all likelihood it will make the game better—for players, for umpires and for fans.
*****
The imperfect game overshadowed a remarkable day in sports: Ken Griffey Jr. retired after a remarkable career that should be given its due on another day; Serena Williams lost at The French Open and gave no credit to her opponent (surprise) and The Philadelphia Flyers beat the Chicago Blackhawks 4-3 in overtime to close the gap to 2-1 in The Stanley Cup Finals. Oh, in case you’ve forgotten, the NBA Finals start tonight after a FIVE-day layoff. I’m not sure which will end first, The NBA Finals or The World Cup.
--------------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
To listen to 'The Bob and Tom Show' interview about 'Moment of Glory', please click the play button below:
By now everyone has seen the replay. Last night, in Comerica Park, Galarraga, who didn’t even begin the season in The Major Leagues after an injury-plagued 2009, retired the first 26 Indians. He got the first out of the ninth inning on an extraordinary running catch in centerfield by Austin Jackson on a long fly ball by Mark Grudzielanek. Jackson had his back to the plate on a play that looked a little bit like Willie Mays’s catch on Vic Wertz in the 1954 World Series, the difference being there was no one on base for Jackson to turn around and double up.
But it was against the Indians and it certainly seemed that fate and history were riding with Galarraga at that moment. (It was also a reminder that the Yankees may long regret trading Jackson). Galarraga got the second out easily and up to the plate came shortstop Jason Donald. He hit a grounder wide of first that Miguel Cabrera ranged right to field. Cabrera fed Galarraga and there it was, the 21st perfect game in history—the third (remarkably) this season.
Except that Joyce blew the call. Just flat out missed what was a routine call for a Major League umpire, especially a respected 22-year-veteran. You could see him start up with his arm for an instant, then change his mind and give the safe signal. Why he did that, what he thought he saw at that moment, is a question that will haunt him for a long, long time.
To his credit, Joyce didn’t try to duck and cover when the game was over—as many umpires and officials do after they blow a call. He made no excuses. “I just cost that kid a perfect game,” he said. “I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw until I saw the replay. It was the biggest call of my career.”
Sadly, it was. Joyce can get every call right for the rest of his life and he’s never going to get past this. Don Denkinger certainly never got past his horribly blown call at first base in the 1985 World Series. That call came in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 6 with the Cardinals leading 1-0. Jorge Orta led off for the Royals and hit a ground ball wide of first (sound familiar?) that Jack Clark fielded and fed to pitcher Todd Worrell. Denkinger called Orta safe when he was clearly out. From there, the Royals built a two-run rally, aided by a passed ball and pinch-hitter Dane Iorg’s two run single, to win 2-1. They then won game 7 in a rout, 11-0.
As badly as Denkinger blew the call, the Cardinals still had chances to win, just as the Red Sox had a game seven (and led 3-0 in the sixth inning) in the 1986 World Series after Bill Buckner booted Mookie Wilson’s grounder to end game six. What’s more, the Mets had already tied the score when Buckner made his error so even if he had made the play, the game would not have been over.
This was game over. No ifs ands or buts. Joyce denied Galarraga a perfect game and there’s nothing that can be done to change that. Like Joyce, Denkinger had a distinguished career as an umpire—he worked in the big leagues for 30 years and was assigned to four World Series and multiple All-Star games and League Championship Series before and after, ‘The Call,’—but his legacy is that call. The same will be true of Joyce although one can only hope he won’t receive death threats the way Denkinger did. His willingness to admit his mistake instantly should help him. He even went so far as to ask to speak to Galarraga to personally apologize to him and was reportedly near tears talking about what had happened. Galarraga said after the game that he forgave him. If Galarraga forgives him, the rest of the world should too.
Of course the blown call will again raise questions about both umpiring and instant replay. Put simply, umpiring needs to be better. There are too many blown calls and too many hot heads umpiring games. When an umpire goes off, the way Joe West did a week ago on Mark Buehrle; the way Bill Hohn did recently on Roy Oswalt; HE should be subject to public discipline just as the player might be. Bad umpires should be demoted and/or fired the same way bad players are demoted and/or fired. Good ones should be given raises.
Replay is a far more controversial topic. No one wants to see baseball games take any longer than they already take. (The game in Detroit last night lasted one hour and 44 minutes, proving that with good pitching and batters standing in the box and hitting, games don’t have to take forever). But there is a way to allow replay for calls like this one without any major delays.
First, take replay out of the umpiring crew’s hands. Under the current rule, if there is a home run call in question, the four umpires all go back to their locker room, call up the replay, discuss it and then come out and announce the call. That’s not the way to do it.
The way to do it is to have a fifth umpire in a replay booth—just like in football—who has the authority if he sees a call that looks WRONG—not questionable, WRONG—to contact the home plate umpire and say, ‘give me a minute to look at this.’ Obviously balls-and-strikes would never be involved in replay. In fact, there should only be three circumstances when replay could be invoked: home runs, out/safe; catch or no catch. It would be nice to add fair/foul to that list but once an umpire calls a ball foul, you can’t go back and restart the play.
If a play is bang-bang or too close to call in any way, the call stands. If the press box ump looks at all angles and can’t tell right away a mistake was made, the call on the field stands. There should never be a delay of more than two minutes. Last night it would not have taken that long for the call to be corrected.
If a call is clearly wrong—as with Joyce last night—the fifth umpire lets the plate umpire know. How much do you think Jim Joyce wishes that system was in place last night? Ninety-nine percent of the officials I’ve met in sports through the years are good guys who want to get it right. I have no doubt that Joyce falls into that category.
All of us make mistakes in our jobs. The number of times I’ve been bailed out by editors is uncountable. Other times, I haven’t been bailed out and had to correct a mistake—including one in which I identified the wrong umpire on a blown call in the 1992 World Series. I felt pretty sick about that one. The only saving grace was that there was another printing to get it right.
Umpires don’t get another printing and they don’t have editors. But they CAN have some backup in the press box. Major League Baseball put in replay in midseason a couple of years ago, it can expand it and improve it in midseason now. It won’t give Armando Galarraga his perfect game back or keep Jim Joyce out of baseball history, but in all likelihood it will make the game better—for players, for umpires and for fans.
*****
The imperfect game overshadowed a remarkable day in sports: Ken Griffey Jr. retired after a remarkable career that should be given its due on another day; Serena Williams lost at The French Open and gave no credit to her opponent (surprise) and The Philadelphia Flyers beat the Chicago Blackhawks 4-3 in overtime to close the gap to 2-1 in The Stanley Cup Finals. Oh, in case you’ve forgotten, the NBA Finals start tonight after a FIVE-day layoff. I’m not sure which will end first, The NBA Finals or The World Cup.
--------------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and in bookstores nationwide. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
To listen to 'The Bob and Tom Show' interview about 'Moment of Glory', please click the play button below:
Comments (10)
Griffey falling asleep isn't a huge crime; Mariners decide to freeze out reporter Larry LaRue
Wed, May 12 2010 11:24
| Ken Griffey Jr., MLB, Larry LaRue, reporting, Seattle Mariners
| Permalink
It has almost become a cliché in sports that when a player stays too long at the party—or in uniform—someone will inevitably say, “God Forbid he becomes Willie Mays with the Mets.”
Mays trying to play centerfield for the Mets in Oakland during the 1973 World Series is one of those indelible memories all baseball fans of a certain age can’t escape. There was a ball lost in the sun and the sight of arguably the greatest centerfielder ever to play the game stumbling around trying to get to fly balls he once would have caught while running backwards on one leg.
There are other examples throughout sports history: Johnny Unitas with the Chargers; Michael Jordan with the Wizards; Wayne Gretzky with the Rangers—players who had been the absolute best still playing when their skills had clearly faded. They might not have been as bad as Mays with the Mets but they weren’t close to what they once had been.
All of which brings us to Ken Griffey Jr.
For a long time one didn’t have to use his full name: he was just, “Junior,” to everyone in baseball—the son of Ken Griffey, a very good ballplayer in his own right who raised Junior to be a superstar. Junior is an absolute, no-brainer first ballot Hall-of-Famer. He has hit 630 home runs in spite of the fact that he has missed large chunks of season due to injury and there has never—EVER—been a hint of steroid use throughout his career. Watching him play centerfield as a young player in Seattle brought back memories of Mays—the Mays who played for the Giants in New York and San Francisco.
Last season, the prodigal son came home to Seattle after nine years of wandering in places like Cincinnati and Chicago, places he never really belonged. At 39, he signed a one-year contract presumably so he could finish his career as a Mariner, playing at Safeco Field, which most people in Seattle know as The House that Griffey Built. Once, when the Mariners played in the old Kingdome, there was talk that the franchise would be moved. That talk quieted not long after Griffey took up residence in centerfield. With players like Alex Rodriguez and Randy Johnson, it became one of the best in baseball for a number of years even though it has never reached The World Series and Safeco was built.
Since Junior’s controversial departure after the 1999 season both he and the franchise have had ups and downs. But 2009 seemed like a perfect way to bring closure to all that had gone on: Even though he only hit .214 he managed 19 home runs and 57 RBI for a team that improved from the depths of a 100 loss season to win 85 games and contend for most of the season in the wild card race. Griffey’s teammates carried him off on their shoulders after the final game of the season and it was a year filled with standing ovations.
A near-perfect ending.
Only Griffey didn’t want it to end. He signed with the Mariners for 2010—a $2 million deal with another $3 million in potential incentives. He hasn’t been a shadow of the hitter he once was for years now and there were no milestones that were so close that one more season would get him there. He wasn’t going to get to 700 home runs and he was more than 200 hits from 3,000. What’s more, his place in history is cemented even without reaching those round numbers.
And now it’s really turned bad—almost Willie Mays with the Mets bad. Griffey has struggled with injuries since spring training. His batting average—when he plays—is barely over .200 and he has zero home runs, two doubles and five RBI. He’s part of a Seattle team that’s off to a terrible start—particularly on offense.
Now it has gotten even worse than that. Last weekend, The Tacoma News-Tribune broke a story in which two of Griffey’s young teammates said that Griffey had fallen asleep in a chair in the Mariners clubhouse and, as a result, wasn’t available to pinch hit late in a game. If you read the quotes from the two players—both described as “young,”—it is apparent they aren’t trying to nail Griffey in any way. One even made the point that Griffey had been having trouble sleeping at home and that might have been a reason why he had fallen asleep.
Baseball players going into the clubhouse and doing things they aren’t supposed to is nothing new. Two incidents involving the New York Mets come to mind right away: Kevin Mitchell making a plane reservation during the 10th inning of game six of the 1986 World Series and having to pull his uniform pants on as he rushed to the dugout when called on to pinch-hit. In fact, Keith Hernandez admitted after that game that after he had made the second out, thinking the season was over, he went into the clubhouse and opened a couple of beers. When the Mets tied the game it suddenly occurred to him he might have to go play first base in the 11th inning. That was when Mookie Wilson and Bill Buckner bailed him out. There was also the infamous Rickey Henderson card game incident during the 1999 playoffs against the Braves.
Griffey falling asleep isn’t a huge crime. He undoubtedly could have been roused, doused some water on his face and gone into the game if manager Don Wakamatsu had wanted him to hit. Obviously he didn’t do it with any malice or even thoughtlessness in mind. The problem is in the symbolism: 40-year-old, over-the-hill icon who can’t stay awake.
Which may explain the cover-up. The Mariners are trying to act as if this didn’t happen. Or, if it did, that the culprits are the two youngsters who talked to the reporter and the Larry LaRue, the reporter. Supposedly Mike Sweeney called a team meeting on Tuesday in Baltimore and demanded that the two ‘snitches,’ reveal themselves so he could fight them. It’s fine to stand up for a teammate—especially Griffey—but, again, it is apparent that the kids weren’t trying to rat Griffey out, they were just stunned by what they saw.
Then, after the meeting and after the game on Tuesday, the Mariners decided to freeze LaRue out---which is completely ridiculous. Do any of them think he made the story up? He has covered Major League Baseball for 30 years, the Mariners since 1988. You don’t stay on a beat that long without being professional, without creating trust with your sources and without knowing what you’re doing. You certainly don’t do it by making up a story about the most iconic figure in the history of a franchise.
LaRue did his job: two players told him Griffey was asleep—he reported it. You can’t say it wasn’t a story because clearly it was a story. Griffey has issued a non-denial, denial. When asked directly if he’d fallen asleep he answered: “Look, I can’t win this, I don’t have a blog.” (LaRue broke the story on his blog). Manager Don Wakamatsu has insisted hat Griffey was, “available.” At another point he said Griffey was sitting with him in the dugout when the alleged incident occurred. If that were the case why would the two players have told LaRue what they told him?
In all, the whole thing is sad. Griffey has had an extraordinary career and has always been a good guy on top of being a sensational player. Ironically, there had been talk he might retire very soon before all this happened. Now, he and the Mariners may feel that he has to stay around if only so people won’t think his departure was brought on by this incident.
What a shame—for all of us—but especially for Griffey and the Mariners.
******
One quick note from yesterday: It is impossible not to notice how mention of the Duke lacrosse incident of 2006 still stirs emotions. One poster went on about all the OTHER crimes committed by the Duke players and was outraged the Duke players were, “made into heroes,” after winning the national championship. I agree some people made the charged players into martyrs and I also agree—as I wrote—that they behaved very badly that night. But for the record, they were never cheered for winning the national championship in large part because they never won one.
--------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and will be in bookstores nationwide May 13th. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
-
Mays trying to play centerfield for the Mets in Oakland during the 1973 World Series is one of those indelible memories all baseball fans of a certain age can’t escape. There was a ball lost in the sun and the sight of arguably the greatest centerfielder ever to play the game stumbling around trying to get to fly balls he once would have caught while running backwards on one leg.
There are other examples throughout sports history: Johnny Unitas with the Chargers; Michael Jordan with the Wizards; Wayne Gretzky with the Rangers—players who had been the absolute best still playing when their skills had clearly faded. They might not have been as bad as Mays with the Mets but they weren’t close to what they once had been.
All of which brings us to Ken Griffey Jr.
For a long time one didn’t have to use his full name: he was just, “Junior,” to everyone in baseball—the son of Ken Griffey, a very good ballplayer in his own right who raised Junior to be a superstar. Junior is an absolute, no-brainer first ballot Hall-of-Famer. He has hit 630 home runs in spite of the fact that he has missed large chunks of season due to injury and there has never—EVER—been a hint of steroid use throughout his career. Watching him play centerfield as a young player in Seattle brought back memories of Mays—the Mays who played for the Giants in New York and San Francisco.
Last season, the prodigal son came home to Seattle after nine years of wandering in places like Cincinnati and Chicago, places he never really belonged. At 39, he signed a one-year contract presumably so he could finish his career as a Mariner, playing at Safeco Field, which most people in Seattle know as The House that Griffey Built. Once, when the Mariners played in the old Kingdome, there was talk that the franchise would be moved. That talk quieted not long after Griffey took up residence in centerfield. With players like Alex Rodriguez and Randy Johnson, it became one of the best in baseball for a number of years even though it has never reached The World Series and Safeco was built.
Since Junior’s controversial departure after the 1999 season both he and the franchise have had ups and downs. But 2009 seemed like a perfect way to bring closure to all that had gone on: Even though he only hit .214 he managed 19 home runs and 57 RBI for a team that improved from the depths of a 100 loss season to win 85 games and contend for most of the season in the wild card race. Griffey’s teammates carried him off on their shoulders after the final game of the season and it was a year filled with standing ovations.
A near-perfect ending.
Only Griffey didn’t want it to end. He signed with the Mariners for 2010—a $2 million deal with another $3 million in potential incentives. He hasn’t been a shadow of the hitter he once was for years now and there were no milestones that were so close that one more season would get him there. He wasn’t going to get to 700 home runs and he was more than 200 hits from 3,000. What’s more, his place in history is cemented even without reaching those round numbers.
And now it’s really turned bad—almost Willie Mays with the Mets bad. Griffey has struggled with injuries since spring training. His batting average—when he plays—is barely over .200 and he has zero home runs, two doubles and five RBI. He’s part of a Seattle team that’s off to a terrible start—particularly on offense.
Now it has gotten even worse than that. Last weekend, The Tacoma News-Tribune broke a story in which two of Griffey’s young teammates said that Griffey had fallen asleep in a chair in the Mariners clubhouse and, as a result, wasn’t available to pinch hit late in a game. If you read the quotes from the two players—both described as “young,”—it is apparent they aren’t trying to nail Griffey in any way. One even made the point that Griffey had been having trouble sleeping at home and that might have been a reason why he had fallen asleep.
Baseball players going into the clubhouse and doing things they aren’t supposed to is nothing new. Two incidents involving the New York Mets come to mind right away: Kevin Mitchell making a plane reservation during the 10th inning of game six of the 1986 World Series and having to pull his uniform pants on as he rushed to the dugout when called on to pinch-hit. In fact, Keith Hernandez admitted after that game that after he had made the second out, thinking the season was over, he went into the clubhouse and opened a couple of beers. When the Mets tied the game it suddenly occurred to him he might have to go play first base in the 11th inning. That was when Mookie Wilson and Bill Buckner bailed him out. There was also the infamous Rickey Henderson card game incident during the 1999 playoffs against the Braves.
Griffey falling asleep isn’t a huge crime. He undoubtedly could have been roused, doused some water on his face and gone into the game if manager Don Wakamatsu had wanted him to hit. Obviously he didn’t do it with any malice or even thoughtlessness in mind. The problem is in the symbolism: 40-year-old, over-the-hill icon who can’t stay awake.
Which may explain the cover-up. The Mariners are trying to act as if this didn’t happen. Or, if it did, that the culprits are the two youngsters who talked to the reporter and the Larry LaRue, the reporter. Supposedly Mike Sweeney called a team meeting on Tuesday in Baltimore and demanded that the two ‘snitches,’ reveal themselves so he could fight them. It’s fine to stand up for a teammate—especially Griffey—but, again, it is apparent that the kids weren’t trying to rat Griffey out, they were just stunned by what they saw.
Then, after the meeting and after the game on Tuesday, the Mariners decided to freeze LaRue out---which is completely ridiculous. Do any of them think he made the story up? He has covered Major League Baseball for 30 years, the Mariners since 1988. You don’t stay on a beat that long without being professional, without creating trust with your sources and without knowing what you’re doing. You certainly don’t do it by making up a story about the most iconic figure in the history of a franchise.
LaRue did his job: two players told him Griffey was asleep—he reported it. You can’t say it wasn’t a story because clearly it was a story. Griffey has issued a non-denial, denial. When asked directly if he’d fallen asleep he answered: “Look, I can’t win this, I don’t have a blog.” (LaRue broke the story on his blog). Manager Don Wakamatsu has insisted hat Griffey was, “available.” At another point he said Griffey was sitting with him in the dugout when the alleged incident occurred. If that were the case why would the two players have told LaRue what they told him?
In all, the whole thing is sad. Griffey has had an extraordinary career and has always been a good guy on top of being a sensational player. Ironically, there had been talk he might retire very soon before all this happened. Now, he and the Mariners may feel that he has to stay around if only so people won’t think his departure was brought on by this incident.
What a shame—for all of us—but especially for Griffey and the Mariners.
******
One quick note from yesterday: It is impossible not to notice how mention of the Duke lacrosse incident of 2006 still stirs emotions. One poster went on about all the OTHER crimes committed by the Duke players and was outraged the Duke players were, “made into heroes,” after winning the national championship. I agree some people made the charged players into martyrs and I also agree—as I wrote—that they behaved very badly that night. But for the record, they were never cheered for winning the national championship in large part because they never won one.
--------------------------------
John's new book: "Moment of Glory--The Year Underdogs Ruled The Majors,"--is now available online and will be in bookstores nationwide May 13th. Visit your favorite retailer, or click here for online purchases
-
Comments (5)
Ernie Harwell was everything you wanted someone you’d admired from afar to be: warm and funny and patient
Wed, May 5 2010 10:01
| Sports Radio, Ernie Harwell, Baltimore Orioles, Detroit Tigers, MLB, Chuck Thompson
| Permalink
Ernie Harwell’s death on Tuesday did not come as a shock. He had announced in the fall that he had inoperable cancer and had been told that he didn’t have very long to live. He was 92 and to say that he lived what he would no doubt call a blessed life is a vast understatement.
That doesn’t make his passing any less sad, just not shocking. Ernie was one of those rare people who fit this description: He’s as good as it gets at what he does—but a far better person.
Ernie was one of those voices that came out of my radio at night on occasion when I was a boy. I couldn’t pick up WJR coming out of Detroit on my transistor as regularly as I could pick up WTIC in Hartford (Ken Coleman and Ned Martin doing the Red Sox) or WBAL in Baltimore (Chuck Thompson and Bill O’Donnell on the Orioles) or WWWE in Cleveland (Joe Tait—I think—and Herb Score—I know—on the Indians) but on clear nights it was there along with KMOX in St. Louis (Jack Buck and Harry Caray in those days) and WJR with Ernie.
There wasn’t an announcer in that group—along with my beloved Mets trio of Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner, who all did radio and TV in the team’s early days—that I didn’t love hearing. Thompson was an absolute joy and, even though I heard less of him, so was Ernie, with that lilting southern accent that at first sounded out of place coming out of Detroit. Only after I got older did I realize that his voice WAS Detroit.
When I got older and got the chance to meet most of the men I just mentioned, it was about as thrilling as meeting any of the athletes. These guys had been a part of my life in some way since boyhood. I still vividly remember a night when I was in college when I had managed to get myself credentialed to a Yankees-Orioles series in Memorial Stadium. I had convinced the sports editor at The Durham Morning Herald (the paper’s name then) to let me do a feature on Catfish Hunter, who was from North Carolina and lived there in the offseason.
After I had talked to Hunter in the clubhouse, I went up to the old media dining room in the back of the press box. It was dark and cramped (the crab cakes on the other hand were fabulous) and just being there was an adrenaline jolt. I got my food—free in those days, no small thing for a college kid—and sat alone in a booth in the corner. All of a sudden, Chuck Thompson walked up with his food and said, “mind if I join you young man?”
Are you kidding?
When I introduced myself, Chuck began peppering me with questions: what year was I in college; was this what I wanted to do; who else had I done work for; had Hunter been cooperative? If his interest wasn’t genuine, he did a great job of covering it up. Later, when I got to know him, I learned that was the way he was every day. Two years later, when I was in Memorial Stadium again to cover a game, but this time as a Washington Post summer intern, I proudly told him what I was doing there.
“That’s great John,” he said, clapping me on the back. “I’m proud of you.”
THAT was a memorable moment for me.
It wasn’t until years later that I got to know Ernie. I met him on several occasions when the Tigers were in Baltimore, but didn’t spend time with him until I was doing my first baseball book, “Play Ball,” in 1992. That was the year that Tigers management, in one of the boneheaded moves ever made, had decided to ‘retire,’ Ernie (and his longtime partner Paul Carey) who had absolutely no interest in retiring. I was actually in a little bit of an awkward spot because one of the men hired to replace Harwell and Carey was Bob Rathbun, a good friend who had been doing ACC basketball on TV for a number of years.
Rathbun and Rick Rizzs, who came in from Seattle to work with Bob, were in an impossible position: replacing a legend—Ernie had been in Detroit since 1961—is impossible at best but doing so when everyone knows the legend didn’t want to leave is beyond impossible. Fortunately for everyone, Mike Ilitch bought the team during the 1992 season and restored Ernie to the booth in 1993. Rizzs returned to Seattle, where he still works and Rathbun went to Atlanta where he has very successfully worked Braves and Hawks telecasts.
The first time I visited Ernie during the ’92 season was in his hotel in Baltimore. He was doing the CBS game of the week on radio. I told him what a fan of his I had always been but also about my friendship with Rathbun. “Those guys aren’t at fault in any way,” he said. “They didn’t make the decision to fire me and someone was going to sit behind the microphone. I actually feel badly for them because a lot of people are angry at them when they haven’t done anything wrong.”
Like Chuck Thompson, Ernie was everything you wanted someone you’d admired from afar to be: he was warm and funny and patient. Every time I was at a game he was working for the next ten years, I made a point to try to spend some time with him. As anyone who has ever listened to him on the radio knows, he was a great storyteller. When he decided to retire in 2002, I was surprised. Sure, he was 84, but he seemed to me to be as good as he’d ever been. He insisted that he wasn’t, that his vision wasn’t close to what it had been and he got tired far more easily than his younger days. Certainly understandable.
Every once in a while he would do a game here and there or an inning or two for someone and, when he did, he sounded as great as he’d ever sounded. Even when he was honored last fall by the Lions after announcing that he was dying of cancer, his voice sounded like, well, Ernie Harwell.
No doubt others who knew him better and longer than I did will spend a lot of time in the next few days and weeks tell stories about him. He hasn’t done Tigers games since 2003 and the days when the team was on WJR are long gone.
For some reason, I have always remembered certain moments when baseball on the radio has made me feel good about life. Some of those moments are attached to memorable games, some are not. In 1991, I had just finished covering the Duke-St. John’s Midwest regional final in the old Pontiac Silverdome and was en route to the airport. (These days I would have been en route home in the car). It was—surprise—cold in Detroit in late March. I flipped on the radio and there was Ernie, giving the starting lineups for a Sunday night exhibition game in Lakeland. The Tigers were playing the Twins.
I got to listen to two-and-a-half innings before I got to the airport. I could almost feel the warmth of Florida and of Ernie coming through the car radio. Whenever I think of Ernie, I think of those two-and-a-half innings. And every time, without fail, it puts a smile on my face.
That doesn’t make his passing any less sad, just not shocking. Ernie was one of those rare people who fit this description: He’s as good as it gets at what he does—but a far better person.
Ernie was one of those voices that came out of my radio at night on occasion when I was a boy. I couldn’t pick up WJR coming out of Detroit on my transistor as regularly as I could pick up WTIC in Hartford (Ken Coleman and Ned Martin doing the Red Sox) or WBAL in Baltimore (Chuck Thompson and Bill O’Donnell on the Orioles) or WWWE in Cleveland (Joe Tait—I think—and Herb Score—I know—on the Indians) but on clear nights it was there along with KMOX in St. Louis (Jack Buck and Harry Caray in those days) and WJR with Ernie.
There wasn’t an announcer in that group—along with my beloved Mets trio of Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson and Ralph Kiner, who all did radio and TV in the team’s early days—that I didn’t love hearing. Thompson was an absolute joy and, even though I heard less of him, so was Ernie, with that lilting southern accent that at first sounded out of place coming out of Detroit. Only after I got older did I realize that his voice WAS Detroit.
When I got older and got the chance to meet most of the men I just mentioned, it was about as thrilling as meeting any of the athletes. These guys had been a part of my life in some way since boyhood. I still vividly remember a night when I was in college when I had managed to get myself credentialed to a Yankees-Orioles series in Memorial Stadium. I had convinced the sports editor at The Durham Morning Herald (the paper’s name then) to let me do a feature on Catfish Hunter, who was from North Carolina and lived there in the offseason.
After I had talked to Hunter in the clubhouse, I went up to the old media dining room in the back of the press box. It was dark and cramped (the crab cakes on the other hand were fabulous) and just being there was an adrenaline jolt. I got my food—free in those days, no small thing for a college kid—and sat alone in a booth in the corner. All of a sudden, Chuck Thompson walked up with his food and said, “mind if I join you young man?”
Are you kidding?
When I introduced myself, Chuck began peppering me with questions: what year was I in college; was this what I wanted to do; who else had I done work for; had Hunter been cooperative? If his interest wasn’t genuine, he did a great job of covering it up. Later, when I got to know him, I learned that was the way he was every day. Two years later, when I was in Memorial Stadium again to cover a game, but this time as a Washington Post summer intern, I proudly told him what I was doing there.
“That’s great John,” he said, clapping me on the back. “I’m proud of you.”
THAT was a memorable moment for me.
It wasn’t until years later that I got to know Ernie. I met him on several occasions when the Tigers were in Baltimore, but didn’t spend time with him until I was doing my first baseball book, “Play Ball,” in 1992. That was the year that Tigers management, in one of the boneheaded moves ever made, had decided to ‘retire,’ Ernie (and his longtime partner Paul Carey) who had absolutely no interest in retiring. I was actually in a little bit of an awkward spot because one of the men hired to replace Harwell and Carey was Bob Rathbun, a good friend who had been doing ACC basketball on TV for a number of years.
Rathbun and Rick Rizzs, who came in from Seattle to work with Bob, were in an impossible position: replacing a legend—Ernie had been in Detroit since 1961—is impossible at best but doing so when everyone knows the legend didn’t want to leave is beyond impossible. Fortunately for everyone, Mike Ilitch bought the team during the 1992 season and restored Ernie to the booth in 1993. Rizzs returned to Seattle, where he still works and Rathbun went to Atlanta where he has very successfully worked Braves and Hawks telecasts.
The first time I visited Ernie during the ’92 season was in his hotel in Baltimore. He was doing the CBS game of the week on radio. I told him what a fan of his I had always been but also about my friendship with Rathbun. “Those guys aren’t at fault in any way,” he said. “They didn’t make the decision to fire me and someone was going to sit behind the microphone. I actually feel badly for them because a lot of people are angry at them when they haven’t done anything wrong.”
Like Chuck Thompson, Ernie was everything you wanted someone you’d admired from afar to be: he was warm and funny and patient. Every time I was at a game he was working for the next ten years, I made a point to try to spend some time with him. As anyone who has ever listened to him on the radio knows, he was a great storyteller. When he decided to retire in 2002, I was surprised. Sure, he was 84, but he seemed to me to be as good as he’d ever been. He insisted that he wasn’t, that his vision wasn’t close to what it had been and he got tired far more easily than his younger days. Certainly understandable.
Every once in a while he would do a game here and there or an inning or two for someone and, when he did, he sounded as great as he’d ever sounded. Even when he was honored last fall by the Lions after announcing that he was dying of cancer, his voice sounded like, well, Ernie Harwell.
No doubt others who knew him better and longer than I did will spend a lot of time in the next few days and weeks tell stories about him. He hasn’t done Tigers games since 2003 and the days when the team was on WJR are long gone.
For some reason, I have always remembered certain moments when baseball on the radio has made me feel good about life. Some of those moments are attached to memorable games, some are not. In 1991, I had just finished covering the Duke-St. John’s Midwest regional final in the old Pontiac Silverdome and was en route to the airport. (These days I would have been en route home in the car). It was—surprise—cold in Detroit in late March. I flipped on the radio and there was Ernie, giving the starting lineups for a Sunday night exhibition game in Lakeland. The Tigers were playing the Twins.
I got to listen to two-and-a-half innings before I got to the airport. I could almost feel the warmth of Florida and of Ernie coming through the car radio. Whenever I think of Ernie, I think of those two-and-a-half innings. And every time, without fail, it puts a smile on my face.
Comments (11)
Mets, Nationals fans emerge from April baseball with hope
Fri, Apr 30 2010 11:03
| Mets, Phillies, Baltimore Orioles, Atlanta Braves, MLB, Washington Nationals
| Permalink
There’s an old saying in baseball: Don’t believe too much of what you see in April or September.
It is not uncommon for lousy teams to get off to a good start in April only to be worn down by the grind of the 162 game season. There are lots of off days in April—some caused by poor weather—and the need for five starting pitchers (or more later when injuries kick in) isn’t there yet. The bullpen is still fresh and someone destined to hit .260 might be hitting .400.
In September, when teams have been eliminated from contention and bring players up from the minor leagues, there are always a couple who catch people’s eye with their play. Sometimes there’s a reason for it—Derek Jeter was a late call-up in 1995—sometimes it’s just September baseball.
So I sit here on the last day of April caught in a conundrum. The New York Mets, the team I grew up with, after what appeared to be a predictably terrible start, has reeled off seven straight wins and sits atop The National League East at 13-9. The suspect starting pitching, which appeared to be Johan Santana and whomever wanted the ball next, has suddenly been world-beating. Mike Pelfrey hasn’t given up a run since about 1994 and the team is winning WITHOUT centerfielder Carlos Beltran.
So, do I get excited? Or do I still to the old baseball axiom and check back in June?
The same question is being asked in Washington, where the Nationals, coming off back-to-back 100 loss seasons, are 12-10. Unlike the Mets, whose winning streak came entirely at home, the Nats have just gone into Chicago and won two-of-three from the Cubs, causing Lou Piniella to lose his mind, which is always entertaining.
Like the Mets, the Nationals are pitching better and, perhaps as important, they’re catching the ball much better. Last year their defense was so bad you had to avert your eyes on routine ground balls unless you were extremely brave. Now, the Nats are not only making routine plays, they’re making some spectacular ones too.
What’s more, the Nationals best pitcher is currently pitching in Harrisburg. Stephen Strasburg, the phenom picked No. 1 in last year’s draft has looked every inch of The Next Great Thing since spring training began. In his last outing he pitched five innings of no-hit baseball. He will probably be moved up to Triple-A Syracuse in the next couple of weeks and his pitch count will be carefully monitored as he is allowed to pitch more innings. He should be in Washington by June and if you put him at the top of the current starting group, the Nationals could be—dare I say it—pretty good.
Of course there’s a strong sense of foreboding based on disappointments of the past in both places. On their last homestand, the Nats played two playoff teams from last year, the Rockies and Dodgers, and struggled to draw 20,000 most nights. The Mets played in front of half-empty ballparks most of the time on the just-ended homestand. It may be that if both come back from road trips still playing well that the crowds will pick up. Baseball fans are like all other fans—they’re frontrunners. Fans of these two teams have lots of reasons to be skeptical though, regardless of their April records.
Still, it’s nice to see some hope. It’s better than being a fan of the Baltimore Orioles, who won two games in a row earlier this week to improve their record to 4-16. They’re now 4-18 and even with the Yankees in town this week, Camden Yards wasn’t close to sold out. Attendance was 26,439 on Thursday night—most of them Yankee fans. If the Orioles aren’t playing the Yankees or the Red Sox their attendance these days is brutal. Next week, they play the Minnesota Twins at home and the Twins have one of baseball’s more entertaining teams. They currently lead the American League Central. Do you think there will be a single crowd of more than 20,000 people?
Not likely. This in what is still as nice a ballpark as there is in baseball, even in its 19th year. And yet, with the Orioles clearly headed for a 12th straight losing season, they are down to die-hards only except when the Yankees and Red Sox show up and turn the ballpark into Yankee Stadium-south or Fenway Park-south. It is sad to see such a proud franchise in this state.
Team President Andy McPhail thinks the young pitchers the team has are going to get things turned around and it’s entirely possible that they will. Good pitching is like good goaltending in hockey or good putting in golf—it can hide all your other weaknesses. Right now, the Orioles pitching just isn’t good enough to hide anything. Maybe that will change.
The Mets are another story—at least at the moment. They go into Philadelphia this weekend on a roll. Most people had conceded The NL East title to the Phillies for a fourth straight year before the first pitch was thrown earlier this month. There still isn’t much reason to believe that isn’t going to be the case. That said, the team that was given the best chance to chase the Phillies was the Braves and they are off to an awful start. The Mets swept them last weekend in New York.
I can imagine what the talk shows are like in New York right now. They are probably discussing what the ticket prices will be like for a Subway Series in October in the two new ballparks.
I’m not ready to get that carried away just yet. It IS nice, whether you live in New York or Washington, to see the calendar turning from April to May and not be wondering what players your team might unload at the trading deadline. Think about this: in Baltimore, in Kansas City, in Pittsburgh, in Houston, the hopeful part of the baseball season is already over.
At least in New York and Washington right now, there’s hope. If that feeling still exists a month from now, it might be time to get serious. For now, I’m just going to sit back and enjoy.
God knows Mets fans and Nats fans are both entitled to a little bit of fun.
It is not uncommon for lousy teams to get off to a good start in April only to be worn down by the grind of the 162 game season. There are lots of off days in April—some caused by poor weather—and the need for five starting pitchers (or more later when injuries kick in) isn’t there yet. The bullpen is still fresh and someone destined to hit .260 might be hitting .400.
In September, when teams have been eliminated from contention and bring players up from the minor leagues, there are always a couple who catch people’s eye with their play. Sometimes there’s a reason for it—Derek Jeter was a late call-up in 1995—sometimes it’s just September baseball.
So I sit here on the last day of April caught in a conundrum. The New York Mets, the team I grew up with, after what appeared to be a predictably terrible start, has reeled off seven straight wins and sits atop The National League East at 13-9. The suspect starting pitching, which appeared to be Johan Santana and whomever wanted the ball next, has suddenly been world-beating. Mike Pelfrey hasn’t given up a run since about 1994 and the team is winning WITHOUT centerfielder Carlos Beltran.
So, do I get excited? Or do I still to the old baseball axiom and check back in June?
The same question is being asked in Washington, where the Nationals, coming off back-to-back 100 loss seasons, are 12-10. Unlike the Mets, whose winning streak came entirely at home, the Nats have just gone into Chicago and won two-of-three from the Cubs, causing Lou Piniella to lose his mind, which is always entertaining.
Like the Mets, the Nationals are pitching better and, perhaps as important, they’re catching the ball much better. Last year their defense was so bad you had to avert your eyes on routine ground balls unless you were extremely brave. Now, the Nats are not only making routine plays, they’re making some spectacular ones too.
What’s more, the Nationals best pitcher is currently pitching in Harrisburg. Stephen Strasburg, the phenom picked No. 1 in last year’s draft has looked every inch of The Next Great Thing since spring training began. In his last outing he pitched five innings of no-hit baseball. He will probably be moved up to Triple-A Syracuse in the next couple of weeks and his pitch count will be carefully monitored as he is allowed to pitch more innings. He should be in Washington by June and if you put him at the top of the current starting group, the Nationals could be—dare I say it—pretty good.
Of course there’s a strong sense of foreboding based on disappointments of the past in both places. On their last homestand, the Nats played two playoff teams from last year, the Rockies and Dodgers, and struggled to draw 20,000 most nights. The Mets played in front of half-empty ballparks most of the time on the just-ended homestand. It may be that if both come back from road trips still playing well that the crowds will pick up. Baseball fans are like all other fans—they’re frontrunners. Fans of these two teams have lots of reasons to be skeptical though, regardless of their April records.
Still, it’s nice to see some hope. It’s better than being a fan of the Baltimore Orioles, who won two games in a row earlier this week to improve their record to 4-16. They’re now 4-18 and even with the Yankees in town this week, Camden Yards wasn’t close to sold out. Attendance was 26,439 on Thursday night—most of them Yankee fans. If the Orioles aren’t playing the Yankees or the Red Sox their attendance these days is brutal. Next week, they play the Minnesota Twins at home and the Twins have one of baseball’s more entertaining teams. They currently lead the American League Central. Do you think there will be a single crowd of more than 20,000 people?
Not likely. This in what is still as nice a ballpark as there is in baseball, even in its 19th year. And yet, with the Orioles clearly headed for a 12th straight losing season, they are down to die-hards only except when the Yankees and Red Sox show up and turn the ballpark into Yankee Stadium-south or Fenway Park-south. It is sad to see such a proud franchise in this state.
Team President Andy McPhail thinks the young pitchers the team has are going to get things turned around and it’s entirely possible that they will. Good pitching is like good goaltending in hockey or good putting in golf—it can hide all your other weaknesses. Right now, the Orioles pitching just isn’t good enough to hide anything. Maybe that will change.
The Mets are another story—at least at the moment. They go into Philadelphia this weekend on a roll. Most people had conceded The NL East title to the Phillies for a fourth straight year before the first pitch was thrown earlier this month. There still isn’t much reason to believe that isn’t going to be the case. That said, the team that was given the best chance to chase the Phillies was the Braves and they are off to an awful start. The Mets swept them last weekend in New York.
I can imagine what the talk shows are like in New York right now. They are probably discussing what the ticket prices will be like for a Subway Series in October in the two new ballparks.
I’m not ready to get that carried away just yet. It IS nice, whether you live in New York or Washington, to see the calendar turning from April to May and not be wondering what players your team might unload at the trading deadline. Think about this: in Baltimore, in Kansas City, in Pittsburgh, in Houston, the hopeful part of the baseball season is already over.
At least in New York and Washington right now, there’s hope. If that feeling still exists a month from now, it might be time to get serious. For now, I’m just going to sit back and enjoy.
God knows Mets fans and Nats fans are both entitled to a little bit of fun.
Comments (2)
Media access in the NFL and other sports continues to shrink
Wed, Apr 21 2010 09:58
| NFL, PGA Tour, Joe Gibbs, college basketball, Washington Post, NHL, MLB, media, Washington Redskins
| Permalink
This past Monday I was making my weekly appearance on Washington Post Live, which airs here in town on Comcast Cable. Because of some kind of sponsorship deal the show has a segment EVERY day on the Redskins (and then later airs a show called, ‘Redskins Nation,’ which is so god-awful you would fall down laughing while watching it if its presence on the air—ANY air—wasn’t so downright sad).
Anyway, with the draft coming up and the Redskins having just completed their first mini-camp under new Coach Mike Shanahan, we actually did two Redskin segments. One of the other guests was Jason Reid, who does an excellent job covering the team for The Washington Post. Covering the Redskins for The Post is such an awful job I once left sports for two years rather than accept the assignment. (More on that in a moment).
During the mini-camp ‘discussion,’ (what the hell is there to discuss about mini-camp?) Jason casually mentioned that the media was not ALLOWED to be at the Redskins facility on Friday and Saturday. Only on Sunday did Shanahan grant them a few moments with the God-like figures who inhabit Redskins Park.
At first, I was literally stunned. No media at a mini-camp? What are they doing, plotting an invasion into Afghanistan? It then occurred to me that this lack of access, although it varies from team-to-team, is the way the NFL does business. Why does it do business this way? Because it CAN.
Even with a potential strike or lockout looming in 2011, there is nothing bigger in American sports (I throw in American only because of the soccer World Cup which occurs every four years and just about brings the rest of the world to a complete halt) than the NFL. I mean look at all the hype going into the draft, which is now a ‘prime-time,’ event. I mean, has there been enough speculation yet? What amuses me most is that with all the speculation—much of it usually flat out wrong—even after the draft takes place no one really knows what they have, who will be a true impact player and who won’t.
A draft usually becomes a good draft in the third round and beyond. If you blow your first pick—see the Oakland Raiders—then you’re going to be awful because even those guys who never stop talking on ESPN aren’t likely to screw up the first round. Heck, even the Redskins picked a good player in the first round last year. The best teams and general managers do their most important work in the late rounds and in signing college free agents. The teams with the most depth win in the NFL and depth is built in the late rounds of the draft and through free agent signings that usually rate one paragraph. You don’t get good by signing Albert Haynesworth—or for that matter Terrell Owens—you get good by signing Torry Holt and having him catch 70 balls for you on a one-year contract. Things like that.
Okay, back to the NFL and the lack of access the media has. I know most people reading this will say, ‘who cares about your access.’ Well, if you are a football fan YOU should. Look, watching practice or mini-camp doesn’t really matter a lick. I watched most Ravens practices (and mini-camps, which WERE open to everyone in the media) during 2004 and was mostly bored doing so.
Years ago, shortly after I had stopped working at The Post fulltime, I was doing some work for The New York Times. I had a contract with Sports Illustrated but liked keeping my hand in at daily journalism and Neil Amdur, then the Times sports editor, allowed me to do it.
The Redskins were playing the Giants and Neil asked me to go out to Redskins Park to write a couple of features during the week. I was standing on the practice field while the Redskins warmed up talking to Richard Justice, who was then The Post’s Redskins beat writer. Joe Gibbs walked over.
“John, I’m really sorry but we only let our local writers watch practice,” he said. “You’re going to have to leave.”
“Gee Joe, thanks,” I said.
“Thanks?”
“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for thinking for one second that, even if I cared, I’d have any clue what you guys were doing. And thanks for giving me an excuse to go write while you’re practicing.”
Gibbs actually laughed. I happily went off to write.
Nowadays, most NFL practices are shut tight—mini-camps apparently included. When Brian Billick coached the Ravens, he was about as open with the media as any coach that ever lived. All his pre-season practices were open. Once the season started he’d let people watch the beginning but once the team actually started scrimmaging or putting in a game-plan, everyone was shooed inside. Nowadays, ANY access to players on or off the field is extremely limited.
Access in almost all sports—golf is the notable exception—has been cut back greatly in recent years. Hockey locker rooms used to be open pre-game. No more. Baseball clubhouses are still open but for less time and players spend far more time in the off-limits areas, which have been greatly expanded in new ballparks. College basketball is the worst offender: Once, almost every college hoops locker room—even Georgetown under John Thompson the elder—was open postgame. Now, except during the NCAA Tournament (all credit to the NCAA on that one) most are closed and a few ‘selected,’ players come to an interview area. One notable exception? Duke. Maybe some of the coaches who complain so bitterly about Duke getting good publicity all the time should think about that for a moment.
The shame of it from the public’s point of view is that it is so much harder to get to know players when you have almost no access to them. I’ve always found that the best stories usually occur when you’re standing around casually talking to someone. It certainly benefits me in golf where I spend a lot of time hanging out on the range and the putting green just talking to players.
There is no casual time with NFL players for most guys in the media. I had the chance to spend casual time with the Ravens in ’04 and the best stories I found were about guys most people in the public never hear much about: the long-snapper; the punter brought in for a couple of weeks because of an injury; a backup offensive lineman who had played his college football at Williams.
But NFL coaches don’t care if the public hears those stories. They care about controlling everything in their little world on a day-to-day basis and they are allowed to do so by the league, by the media (which has little wherewithal to change anything) and by the public whose only real concern isn’t a good story about a backup lineman but whether last year’s 4-12 team can make itself over into a playoff team.
I get all that. Which is why, back in 1982 when George Solomon, then The Post’s sports editor called me into his office and announced, “congratulations, I’m making you The Redskins beat writer,” I said no. I was very much enjoying myself covering national college football and basketball and I knew that, even then, covering the Redskins beat was basically being a hard-working stenographer: who was injured, who didn’t practice, what did Coach Gibbs think of next week’s opponent? (Greatest team in history every single week).
That’s not to say I wasn’t flattered being offered the most read beat in the newspaper. I just thought life was too short to waste even one season doing that. I told George, with all due respect, I didn’t want the beat. He told me he was the boss—he was right—and I’d do what he said. I walked straight to David Maraniss’s office. He had just been promoted to Metro editor, replacing Bob Woodward. Both had told me I had a standing offer to come back and cover Maryland politics for them anytime I wanted.
“Does the offer still stand?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
A week later I was in Annapolis. I never covered the Redskins. When I went back to sports two years later it was to cover national college basketball and tennis. I was reminded again on Monday just how lucky I was to never spend one day as an NFL beat writer. Back then, it was lousy. Now, it’s a lot worse.
Anyway, with the draft coming up and the Redskins having just completed their first mini-camp under new Coach Mike Shanahan, we actually did two Redskin segments. One of the other guests was Jason Reid, who does an excellent job covering the team for The Washington Post. Covering the Redskins for The Post is such an awful job I once left sports for two years rather than accept the assignment. (More on that in a moment).
During the mini-camp ‘discussion,’ (what the hell is there to discuss about mini-camp?) Jason casually mentioned that the media was not ALLOWED to be at the Redskins facility on Friday and Saturday. Only on Sunday did Shanahan grant them a few moments with the God-like figures who inhabit Redskins Park.
At first, I was literally stunned. No media at a mini-camp? What are they doing, plotting an invasion into Afghanistan? It then occurred to me that this lack of access, although it varies from team-to-team, is the way the NFL does business. Why does it do business this way? Because it CAN.
Even with a potential strike or lockout looming in 2011, there is nothing bigger in American sports (I throw in American only because of the soccer World Cup which occurs every four years and just about brings the rest of the world to a complete halt) than the NFL. I mean look at all the hype going into the draft, which is now a ‘prime-time,’ event. I mean, has there been enough speculation yet? What amuses me most is that with all the speculation—much of it usually flat out wrong—even after the draft takes place no one really knows what they have, who will be a true impact player and who won’t.
A draft usually becomes a good draft in the third round and beyond. If you blow your first pick—see the Oakland Raiders—then you’re going to be awful because even those guys who never stop talking on ESPN aren’t likely to screw up the first round. Heck, even the Redskins picked a good player in the first round last year. The best teams and general managers do their most important work in the late rounds and in signing college free agents. The teams with the most depth win in the NFL and depth is built in the late rounds of the draft and through free agent signings that usually rate one paragraph. You don’t get good by signing Albert Haynesworth—or for that matter Terrell Owens—you get good by signing Torry Holt and having him catch 70 balls for you on a one-year contract. Things like that.
Okay, back to the NFL and the lack of access the media has. I know most people reading this will say, ‘who cares about your access.’ Well, if you are a football fan YOU should. Look, watching practice or mini-camp doesn’t really matter a lick. I watched most Ravens practices (and mini-camps, which WERE open to everyone in the media) during 2004 and was mostly bored doing so.
Years ago, shortly after I had stopped working at The Post fulltime, I was doing some work for The New York Times. I had a contract with Sports Illustrated but liked keeping my hand in at daily journalism and Neil Amdur, then the Times sports editor, allowed me to do it.
The Redskins were playing the Giants and Neil asked me to go out to Redskins Park to write a couple of features during the week. I was standing on the practice field while the Redskins warmed up talking to Richard Justice, who was then The Post’s Redskins beat writer. Joe Gibbs walked over.
“John, I’m really sorry but we only let our local writers watch practice,” he said. “You’re going to have to leave.”
“Gee Joe, thanks,” I said.
“Thanks?”
“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for thinking for one second that, even if I cared, I’d have any clue what you guys were doing. And thanks for giving me an excuse to go write while you’re practicing.”
Gibbs actually laughed. I happily went off to write.
Nowadays, most NFL practices are shut tight—mini-camps apparently included. When Brian Billick coached the Ravens, he was about as open with the media as any coach that ever lived. All his pre-season practices were open. Once the season started he’d let people watch the beginning but once the team actually started scrimmaging or putting in a game-plan, everyone was shooed inside. Nowadays, ANY access to players on or off the field is extremely limited.
Access in almost all sports—golf is the notable exception—has been cut back greatly in recent years. Hockey locker rooms used to be open pre-game. No more. Baseball clubhouses are still open but for less time and players spend far more time in the off-limits areas, which have been greatly expanded in new ballparks. College basketball is the worst offender: Once, almost every college hoops locker room—even Georgetown under John Thompson the elder—was open postgame. Now, except during the NCAA Tournament (all credit to the NCAA on that one) most are closed and a few ‘selected,’ players come to an interview area. One notable exception? Duke. Maybe some of the coaches who complain so bitterly about Duke getting good publicity all the time should think about that for a moment.
The shame of it from the public’s point of view is that it is so much harder to get to know players when you have almost no access to them. I’ve always found that the best stories usually occur when you’re standing around casually talking to someone. It certainly benefits me in golf where I spend a lot of time hanging out on the range and the putting green just talking to players.
There is no casual time with NFL players for most guys in the media. I had the chance to spend casual time with the Ravens in ’04 and the best stories I found were about guys most people in the public never hear much about: the long-snapper; the punter brought in for a couple of weeks because of an injury; a backup offensive lineman who had played his college football at Williams.
But NFL coaches don’t care if the public hears those stories. They care about controlling everything in their little world on a day-to-day basis and they are allowed to do so by the league, by the media (which has little wherewithal to change anything) and by the public whose only real concern isn’t a good story about a backup lineman but whether last year’s 4-12 team can make itself over into a playoff team.
I get all that. Which is why, back in 1982 when George Solomon, then The Post’s sports editor called me into his office and announced, “congratulations, I’m making you The Redskins beat writer,” I said no. I was very much enjoying myself covering national college football and basketball and I knew that, even then, covering the Redskins beat was basically being a hard-working stenographer: who was injured, who didn’t practice, what did Coach Gibbs think of next week’s opponent? (Greatest team in history every single week).
That’s not to say I wasn’t flattered being offered the most read beat in the newspaper. I just thought life was too short to waste even one season doing that. I told George, with all due respect, I didn’t want the beat. He told me he was the boss—he was right—and I’d do what he said. I walked straight to David Maraniss’s office. He had just been promoted to Metro editor, replacing Bob Woodward. Both had told me I had a standing offer to come back and cover Maryland politics for them anytime I wanted.
“Does the offer still stand?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
A week later I was in Annapolis. I never covered the Redskins. When I went back to sports two years later it was to cover national college basketball and tennis. I was reminded again on Monday just how lucky I was to never spend one day as an NFL beat writer. Back then, it was lousy. Now, it’s a lot worse.
Comments (12)
Great baseball broadcasters, led by Vin Scully; Addressing comments
Wed, Apr 14 2010 10:18
| Mets, LA Dodgers, Tiger Woods, MLB, Vin Scully, broadcasting
| Permalink
A few weeks ago, when Vin Scully took a fall getting out of bed and was hospitalized briefly, a friend of mine who is a big baseball fan shook his head and said, “You get to a certain age, you should just hang it up and go home.”
In a lot of cases, that’s true. It isn’t true of Scully. I was reminded of this yesterday afternoon when—thanks to the baseball package, one of the great inventions of this century—I was able to sit and watch Scully work his magic during the Dodgers-Diamondbacks game. For a baseball fan, listening to Scully broadcast a baseball game is like someone who loves classical music listening to Mozart or Beethoven.
Some of it no doubt is familiarity. Although I never got to hear Scully work Dodger games as a kid, he was there every Saturday for many years doing the NBC Game of the Week and he was also around a lot doing the NFL and golf on CBS. Part of it also is that unique cadence of his: the way he draws out ‘one and one,’ can be imitated but it is unique to him. It also seems as if every Dodger broadcaster who has followed him—I’m thinking mostly of Ross Porter and Rick Monday—has ended up picking up on Scullyspeak. The Dodgers are never the Dodgers they are the ‘Daaadgers,’ and Daaadger Stadium is almost always referred to as Chavez Ravine—which for those of you under 40 is the area where it is located.
I’ve written before about how much I enjoy listening to great baseball broadcasters. Bob Murphy was a huge part of my boyhood and I get a big kick out of listening to Gary Cohen, Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling on the Mets telecasts now. I don’t enjoy watching the team very much, but the broadcast is terrific, especially since there’s no covering up the team’s deficiencies in the booth. If you’d like to experience the opposite end of that spectrum tune in the Orioles or Nationals sometime. (Disclaimer: Cohen is a friend. Having said that, I don’t think you have to be his friend to appreciate his work).
There are plenty of other baseball broadcasters who are great fun to listen to: Joe Castiglione in Boston; Marty Brenneman in Cincinnati (also a friend though we agree on almost nothing); Dave Niehaus in Seattle and Howie Rose on radio for the Mets (okay, I have a Mets bias) come to mind. The game really misses Skip Caray and Harry Kalas.
But there’s still only one Scully. His calls are lyrical and his familiarity with the players and the game is still astonishing even at 82. Yesterday when the camera showed a shot of injured Diamondbacks pitcher Brandon Webb, he basically went through Webb’s entire life story in about 90 seconds. He wasn’t reading from the media guide either, you can tell when someone is doing that. Webb popped up on camera in the dugout and Scully just started talking.
There’s another thing about Scully: he’s a genuine star—he’s only been doing Dodger games for 61 years (!!!) now—who never acts like one. Although he doesn’t travel east anymore in the regular season, he does during the playoffs. Last October I ran into him—almost literally—in the press box in Philadelphia. We were walking through a door from the dining area to the press box area.
When I stopped to open the door for him, Scully said to me, “Aaah yes John, a man who believes in age before beauty, something I can admire.”
I told him I wasn’t sure if he was right on either count but that I was honored to open the door for him. He laughed and said, “We’re all just honored and lucky to be here aren’t we?”
I’m pretty sure he was 100 percent sincere when he said that which might explain why he still sounds so happy to be in the broadcast booth even after all these years. I hope he keeps doing what he’s doing for as long as he can do it because the day he isn’t doing Dodger games is the day that the ‘Daaadgers,’ won’t really be the ‘Daaadgers,’ anymore. Someone will sit in Vin Scully’s chair, but no one will ever replace him.
I am SO glad it is baseball season.
*****
On a far less pleasant topic I am going to go over this Tiger Woods issue one last time and then people like ‘anonymous,’ who kept insisting on the posting site the last few days that there is some deep, dark secret I am hiding can either accept what I’m saying or not accept it and we’ll all move on.
I have never had any sort of personal run-in with Woods and he has never ‘done,’ anything to me that has caused me to dislike him. When Mike Wilbon said a few months ago I was angry with Woods for not talking to me for the book I did on Rocco Mediate and that’s why I was criticizing him for his behavior, he was, quite simply, mistaken. As I said before, I told Rocco when he first called about doing the book that I KNEW Tiger wouldn’t talk to me for the book and doubted, quite honestly, he’d talk to anyone but he’d have a better shot at it if someone else did the writing. The person who was upset was ROCCO because he’d done a number of favors for Tiger post-U.S. Open. If you don’t believe that, ask him sometime. He’s a very approachable guy.
‘Anonymous,’ sort of wants it both ways: On the one hand he says he bases his disbelief in what I’m saying on the Wilbon theory—which Mike has since withdrawn by the way after we talked the whole thing through. On the other hand he says I’ve disliked Tiger for years. How can both be true? Then he throws in John Hawkins silly comment about my ‘lack of a relationship,’ with Tiger because I don’t cover golf ‘fulltime,’ like he and some others do. I responded to that too: I’ve never claimed to have a ‘relationship,’ with Woods although I’d bet I’ve spent more one-on-one time with him than a lot of the guys he calls by nicknames in press conferences. That isn’t a lot of time but it is probably more than almost anyone other than Jaime Diaz, who may be the one writer who has some sense of who Woods is, having known him since he was 15.
My objection to Woods has more to do with the way he has treated people through the years than anything else: I’ve seen him blow by kids looking for autographs consistently since the day he turned pro (and the excuse that he can’t sign for everyone so therefore he signs for no one is not only tired and worn out it isn’t true; you have one of your flunkies cut off the line at some point and say, ‘Tiger has to go, but he’ll be signing again tomorrow.’ Sure, he might disappoint a couple kids but he’d thrill a hundred of them. Phil Mickelson, for the record, signs every single day for 45 minutes. Most players plan some time into their day to sign).
Woods has also been disdainful and condescending in most of his dealings with the media; he does almost nothing if it doesn’t involve money; he tells TV networks who he will or will not talk to based on how much they have or have not sucked up to him during broadcasts and his on-course behavior has been lousy from day one. (I’m not talking the profanity as much as the club-throwing and club-pounding. By 34 you should have that under control).
Tiger and I have had one major disagreement from day one and it is something we have discussed on a number of occasions: I always saw his dad as just another pushy stage-jock parent who got lucky that his kid was the one with ridiculous talent. Obviously—and understandably—he didn’t see his dad that way.
We had a lengthy conversation about this years ago over dinner in San Diego—yes, we had dinner—during which I said I objected to Earl cashing in on Tiger by writing not one but TWO autobiographies. “He wrote the first one because people kept asking him how he did it,” Tiger said.
“Okay,” I said, “Even though I don’t buy that he did anything, I’ll accept that. Why’d he write the second one?”
Tiger smiled. “Okay, good point,” he said.
So we agreed to disagree and we’ve done that through the years. I know the people around him—except for Glenn Greenspan who I knew for a long time before he joined ETW Inc. two years ago—think I’m the devil because I have consistently not bought into the Tiger off-course myth. Ironically, I thought Tiger was headed in the right direction a couple years ago (I wish I could remember exactly what he did, but there was something that impressed me. It may have been—sadly—his seemingly changed demeanor after he became a father) and actually wrote to Mark Steinberg to tell him that. Turns out I got that one wrong.
Bottom line: I don’t hate Tiger and he’s never ‘done,’ anything to me. I just disagree with a lot of what he’s done and feel like there are enough cheerleaders and apologists out there for him that I don’t need to be another one. I felt that way before November 27th and still feel that way. If cringing when Nick Faldo says, “after all Tiger’s been through,” means I’m ‘out to get Tiger,’ in some people’s minds, so be it.
And, to quote Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.
In a lot of cases, that’s true. It isn’t true of Scully. I was reminded of this yesterday afternoon when—thanks to the baseball package, one of the great inventions of this century—I was able to sit and watch Scully work his magic during the Dodgers-Diamondbacks game. For a baseball fan, listening to Scully broadcast a baseball game is like someone who loves classical music listening to Mozart or Beethoven.
Some of it no doubt is familiarity. Although I never got to hear Scully work Dodger games as a kid, he was there every Saturday for many years doing the NBC Game of the Week and he was also around a lot doing the NFL and golf on CBS. Part of it also is that unique cadence of his: the way he draws out ‘one and one,’ can be imitated but it is unique to him. It also seems as if every Dodger broadcaster who has followed him—I’m thinking mostly of Ross Porter and Rick Monday—has ended up picking up on Scullyspeak. The Dodgers are never the Dodgers they are the ‘Daaadgers,’ and Daaadger Stadium is almost always referred to as Chavez Ravine—which for those of you under 40 is the area where it is located.
I’ve written before about how much I enjoy listening to great baseball broadcasters. Bob Murphy was a huge part of my boyhood and I get a big kick out of listening to Gary Cohen, Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling on the Mets telecasts now. I don’t enjoy watching the team very much, but the broadcast is terrific, especially since there’s no covering up the team’s deficiencies in the booth. If you’d like to experience the opposite end of that spectrum tune in the Orioles or Nationals sometime. (Disclaimer: Cohen is a friend. Having said that, I don’t think you have to be his friend to appreciate his work).
There are plenty of other baseball broadcasters who are great fun to listen to: Joe Castiglione in Boston; Marty Brenneman in Cincinnati (also a friend though we agree on almost nothing); Dave Niehaus in Seattle and Howie Rose on radio for the Mets (okay, I have a Mets bias) come to mind. The game really misses Skip Caray and Harry Kalas.
But there’s still only one Scully. His calls are lyrical and his familiarity with the players and the game is still astonishing even at 82. Yesterday when the camera showed a shot of injured Diamondbacks pitcher Brandon Webb, he basically went through Webb’s entire life story in about 90 seconds. He wasn’t reading from the media guide either, you can tell when someone is doing that. Webb popped up on camera in the dugout and Scully just started talking.
There’s another thing about Scully: he’s a genuine star—he’s only been doing Dodger games for 61 years (!!!) now—who never acts like one. Although he doesn’t travel east anymore in the regular season, he does during the playoffs. Last October I ran into him—almost literally—in the press box in Philadelphia. We were walking through a door from the dining area to the press box area.
When I stopped to open the door for him, Scully said to me, “Aaah yes John, a man who believes in age before beauty, something I can admire.”
I told him I wasn’t sure if he was right on either count but that I was honored to open the door for him. He laughed and said, “We’re all just honored and lucky to be here aren’t we?”
I’m pretty sure he was 100 percent sincere when he said that which might explain why he still sounds so happy to be in the broadcast booth even after all these years. I hope he keeps doing what he’s doing for as long as he can do it because the day he isn’t doing Dodger games is the day that the ‘Daaadgers,’ won’t really be the ‘Daaadgers,’ anymore. Someone will sit in Vin Scully’s chair, but no one will ever replace him.
I am SO glad it is baseball season.
*****
On a far less pleasant topic I am going to go over this Tiger Woods issue one last time and then people like ‘anonymous,’ who kept insisting on the posting site the last few days that there is some deep, dark secret I am hiding can either accept what I’m saying or not accept it and we’ll all move on.
I have never had any sort of personal run-in with Woods and he has never ‘done,’ anything to me that has caused me to dislike him. When Mike Wilbon said a few months ago I was angry with Woods for not talking to me for the book I did on Rocco Mediate and that’s why I was criticizing him for his behavior, he was, quite simply, mistaken. As I said before, I told Rocco when he first called about doing the book that I KNEW Tiger wouldn’t talk to me for the book and doubted, quite honestly, he’d talk to anyone but he’d have a better shot at it if someone else did the writing. The person who was upset was ROCCO because he’d done a number of favors for Tiger post-U.S. Open. If you don’t believe that, ask him sometime. He’s a very approachable guy.
‘Anonymous,’ sort of wants it both ways: On the one hand he says he bases his disbelief in what I’m saying on the Wilbon theory—which Mike has since withdrawn by the way after we talked the whole thing through. On the other hand he says I’ve disliked Tiger for years. How can both be true? Then he throws in John Hawkins silly comment about my ‘lack of a relationship,’ with Tiger because I don’t cover golf ‘fulltime,’ like he and some others do. I responded to that too: I’ve never claimed to have a ‘relationship,’ with Woods although I’d bet I’ve spent more one-on-one time with him than a lot of the guys he calls by nicknames in press conferences. That isn’t a lot of time but it is probably more than almost anyone other than Jaime Diaz, who may be the one writer who has some sense of who Woods is, having known him since he was 15.
My objection to Woods has more to do with the way he has treated people through the years than anything else: I’ve seen him blow by kids looking for autographs consistently since the day he turned pro (and the excuse that he can’t sign for everyone so therefore he signs for no one is not only tired and worn out it isn’t true; you have one of your flunkies cut off the line at some point and say, ‘Tiger has to go, but he’ll be signing again tomorrow.’ Sure, he might disappoint a couple kids but he’d thrill a hundred of them. Phil Mickelson, for the record, signs every single day for 45 minutes. Most players plan some time into their day to sign).
Woods has also been disdainful and condescending in most of his dealings with the media; he does almost nothing if it doesn’t involve money; he tells TV networks who he will or will not talk to based on how much they have or have not sucked up to him during broadcasts and his on-course behavior has been lousy from day one. (I’m not talking the profanity as much as the club-throwing and club-pounding. By 34 you should have that under control).
Tiger and I have had one major disagreement from day one and it is something we have discussed on a number of occasions: I always saw his dad as just another pushy stage-jock parent who got lucky that his kid was the one with ridiculous talent. Obviously—and understandably—he didn’t see his dad that way.
We had a lengthy conversation about this years ago over dinner in San Diego—yes, we had dinner—during which I said I objected to Earl cashing in on Tiger by writing not one but TWO autobiographies. “He wrote the first one because people kept asking him how he did it,” Tiger said.
“Okay,” I said, “Even though I don’t buy that he did anything, I’ll accept that. Why’d he write the second one?”
Tiger smiled. “Okay, good point,” he said.
So we agreed to disagree and we’ve done that through the years. I know the people around him—except for Glenn Greenspan who I knew for a long time before he joined ETW Inc. two years ago—think I’m the devil because I have consistently not bought into the Tiger off-course myth. Ironically, I thought Tiger was headed in the right direction a couple years ago (I wish I could remember exactly what he did, but there was something that impressed me. It may have been—sadly—his seemingly changed demeanor after he became a father) and actually wrote to Mark Steinberg to tell him that. Turns out I got that one wrong.
Bottom line: I don’t hate Tiger and he’s never ‘done,’ anything to me. I just disagree with a lot of what he’s done and feel like there are enough cheerleaders and apologists out there for him that I don’t need to be another one. I felt that way before November 27th and still feel that way. If cringing when Nick Faldo says, “after all Tiger’s been through,” means I’m ‘out to get Tiger,’ in some people’s minds, so be it.
And, to quote Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.
Comments (23)
Opening day is right around the corner – amidst busy week, baseball is on my mind
Tue, Mar 23 2010 10:10
| Sports Radio, Mets, Phillies, Baltimore Orioles, MLB
| Permalink
So here we are in the midst of Sweet Sixteen week surrounded by everyone (including me) trying to psychoanalyze Tiger Woods and I find myself thinking about baseball this morning.
The weather finally turning warm is definitely a factor as is Dave Sheinin’s piece in today’s Washington Post about the Orioles trying to at last turn a corner after 12 straight losing seasons. Brigid, my 12-year-old daughter, is a huge Orioles fan in large part because she fell in love with The Bird mascot when she was about three-years-old and it occurs to me that the last time the Orioles had a winning season was in the year she was born.
Brigid is very optimistic about this season not so much because of the young pitching as because Miguel Tejada, long her favorite Oriole, has returned to Baltimore.
I’m not especially optimistic or pessimistic about any team at the moment although I do think the Nationals will be better and the Mets will be, um, the Mets. As one long-time Mets follower pointed out to me last week, the thing they needed to improve the most this off-season was their starting pitching and they did nothing. Their two best players, Carlos Beltran and Jose Reyes, are going to start the season on the Disabled List. David Wright hit 10 home runs last season in Citi Field. Other than that…
There’s just something about baseball that makes me feel good. I can honestly say that there are few things in life I enjoy more than sitting in a ballpark on an afternoon or evening, watching a game and keeping score. I have to keep score. If I don’t I feel like something is wrong.
There’s more to it than that. Some has to do with boyhood memories—more connected to my mother than my father. My dad was never a big sports fan and what little interest he had in sports pretty much died when the Dodgers left Brooklyn. So, when I was little, it was often my mom who took me to games. She wasn’t a big fan either but she MADE herself a fan because I was a fan.
I’ve probably told this story before, so forgive me if you’ve read it already. One afternoon the Mets were doing something they rarely did—coming from behind. Down 2-0 to the Phillies in the bottom of the eighth, they shockingly pieced together a four run rally. When Cleon Jones singled in the tying and go-ahead runs (yes, I distinctly remember it was Cleon) my mom was right there next to me, jumping up and down, completely into it.
We were in good seats that day—back then you could walk up on game day, put down $3.50 for a box seat and sit between home plate and first or third base—and an usher walked by as the Mets took the lead, 3-2. He paused, look at my mom and said, “so which one is your husband?”
My mom thought it was cool that someone thought she was young enough to be married to a ballplayer.
The kid stuff is only part of it though, there’s more. As I’ve mentioned before, I love long car rides during spring and summer, especially at night, when I can flip the radio around from game-to-game. I’m so sick I enjoy PRE-game shows, even though they’re rife with commercials and managers saying, “we just have to come back ready to go tonight.”
My favorite pre-game interviews are between John Sterling and whomever is managing the Yankees. I like Sterling, he’s always been very nice to me, but I LOVE listening to him explain what happened the night before to the manager. In fact, whether it’s Joe Torre or Joe Girardi, their response to just about every “question,” is, “you’re right John…”
I was talking to Gary Cohen, who has done play-by-play for the Mets on radio and now on TV since 1989 (and is, as far as I’m concerned as good as there is in the business) about why people connect to guys doing radio play-by-play in baseball more than other announcers. “It might be because there’s so little to talk about compared to the other sports,” he said. “I love doing baseball on radio. It just lends itself to story-telling and bringing the listener along. TV’s not the same. There are 100 things you have to get done in-between pitches. Or at least it feels that way.”
The Mets wanted Gary to be their TV voice when they started their own TV network four years back and he’s been great at it along with Ron Darling and Keith Hernandez. But he still misses radio. Having done some of both myself, I completely get it. Radio’s more fun to do and to listen to if truth be told.
There’s one other thing about baseball: it IS ubiquitous, from April to October. Every day there are games; every day there are box scores. Nowadays, with the baseball package, if you don’t go to a game on a given night, you can sit down and watch games all night and see how different perspectives are on the game in Boston as opposed to Chicago or Seattle. I just wish the people who run the package would make a deal with the Phillies so we could watch games from Citizens Bank Ballpark.
Last summer, after my heart surgery, I wasn’t house-bound but I didn’t have that much energy for the first four-to-six weeks. I also couldn’t drive for three weeks, which just about put me back in the hospital. When it comes to being a control-freak where driving is concerned Tiger Woods has nothing on me.
Most of my nights were spent in front of the TV watching baseball games. Truth be told, that was one of the good things about the surgery. Because I didn’t have to be up first thing the next morning to work or take a kid to school or someplace else, I could stay up as late as I wanted and watch as much baseball as I wanted. I have friends who say they can’t watch more than couple of innings without getting bored. Not me. There were nights when I watched doubleheaders—a game at 7 o’clock—flipping around in-between innings—and a game at 10 o’clock.
It was comforting and it made me feel like a kid again—knowing everyone’s batting average and ERA, understanding why someone was out of the lineup. Of course watching the Mets, even with Gary, Ron and Keith, wasn’t too much fun.
So now we’re on the doorstep of another spring and another baseball season. I can’t wait to go to the ballpark again or to watch games that matter on TV. I can’t wait to keep score. One thing I do when I keep score is write down the inning-by-inning score at the bottom of my scorecard. It’s just an old habit. But I always like writing down the score after the top of the first inning, whether the visiting team has put up an ‘0,’ or an ‘8’ or something in-between. It just makes me smile to see it, knowing the game has just begun.
April’s a great month. The Final Four; the Masters and early season baseball—which is full of hope for everyone. I can’t wait.
The weather finally turning warm is definitely a factor as is Dave Sheinin’s piece in today’s Washington Post about the Orioles trying to at last turn a corner after 12 straight losing seasons. Brigid, my 12-year-old daughter, is a huge Orioles fan in large part because she fell in love with The Bird mascot when she was about three-years-old and it occurs to me that the last time the Orioles had a winning season was in the year she was born.
Brigid is very optimistic about this season not so much because of the young pitching as because Miguel Tejada, long her favorite Oriole, has returned to Baltimore.
I’m not especially optimistic or pessimistic about any team at the moment although I do think the Nationals will be better and the Mets will be, um, the Mets. As one long-time Mets follower pointed out to me last week, the thing they needed to improve the most this off-season was their starting pitching and they did nothing. Their two best players, Carlos Beltran and Jose Reyes, are going to start the season on the Disabled List. David Wright hit 10 home runs last season in Citi Field. Other than that…
There’s just something about baseball that makes me feel good. I can honestly say that there are few things in life I enjoy more than sitting in a ballpark on an afternoon or evening, watching a game and keeping score. I have to keep score. If I don’t I feel like something is wrong.
There’s more to it than that. Some has to do with boyhood memories—more connected to my mother than my father. My dad was never a big sports fan and what little interest he had in sports pretty much died when the Dodgers left Brooklyn. So, when I was little, it was often my mom who took me to games. She wasn’t a big fan either but she MADE herself a fan because I was a fan.
I’ve probably told this story before, so forgive me if you’ve read it already. One afternoon the Mets were doing something they rarely did—coming from behind. Down 2-0 to the Phillies in the bottom of the eighth, they shockingly pieced together a four run rally. When Cleon Jones singled in the tying and go-ahead runs (yes, I distinctly remember it was Cleon) my mom was right there next to me, jumping up and down, completely into it.
We were in good seats that day—back then you could walk up on game day, put down $3.50 for a box seat and sit between home plate and first or third base—and an usher walked by as the Mets took the lead, 3-2. He paused, look at my mom and said, “so which one is your husband?”
My mom thought it was cool that someone thought she was young enough to be married to a ballplayer.
The kid stuff is only part of it though, there’s more. As I’ve mentioned before, I love long car rides during spring and summer, especially at night, when I can flip the radio around from game-to-game. I’m so sick I enjoy PRE-game shows, even though they’re rife with commercials and managers saying, “we just have to come back ready to go tonight.”
My favorite pre-game interviews are between John Sterling and whomever is managing the Yankees. I like Sterling, he’s always been very nice to me, but I LOVE listening to him explain what happened the night before to the manager. In fact, whether it’s Joe Torre or Joe Girardi, their response to just about every “question,” is, “you’re right John…”
I was talking to Gary Cohen, who has done play-by-play for the Mets on radio and now on TV since 1989 (and is, as far as I’m concerned as good as there is in the business) about why people connect to guys doing radio play-by-play in baseball more than other announcers. “It might be because there’s so little to talk about compared to the other sports,” he said. “I love doing baseball on radio. It just lends itself to story-telling and bringing the listener along. TV’s not the same. There are 100 things you have to get done in-between pitches. Or at least it feels that way.”
The Mets wanted Gary to be their TV voice when they started their own TV network four years back and he’s been great at it along with Ron Darling and Keith Hernandez. But he still misses radio. Having done some of both myself, I completely get it. Radio’s more fun to do and to listen to if truth be told.
There’s one other thing about baseball: it IS ubiquitous, from April to October. Every day there are games; every day there are box scores. Nowadays, with the baseball package, if you don’t go to a game on a given night, you can sit down and watch games all night and see how different perspectives are on the game in Boston as opposed to Chicago or Seattle. I just wish the people who run the package would make a deal with the Phillies so we could watch games from Citizens Bank Ballpark.
Last summer, after my heart surgery, I wasn’t house-bound but I didn’t have that much energy for the first four-to-six weeks. I also couldn’t drive for three weeks, which just about put me back in the hospital. When it comes to being a control-freak where driving is concerned Tiger Woods has nothing on me.
Most of my nights were spent in front of the TV watching baseball games. Truth be told, that was one of the good things about the surgery. Because I didn’t have to be up first thing the next morning to work or take a kid to school or someplace else, I could stay up as late as I wanted and watch as much baseball as I wanted. I have friends who say they can’t watch more than couple of innings without getting bored. Not me. There were nights when I watched doubleheaders—a game at 7 o’clock—flipping around in-between innings—and a game at 10 o’clock.
It was comforting and it made me feel like a kid again—knowing everyone’s batting average and ERA, understanding why someone was out of the lineup. Of course watching the Mets, even with Gary, Ron and Keith, wasn’t too much fun.
So now we’re on the doorstep of another spring and another baseball season. I can’t wait to go to the ballpark again or to watch games that matter on TV. I can’t wait to keep score. One thing I do when I keep score is write down the inning-by-inning score at the bottom of my scorecard. It’s just an old habit. But I always like writing down the score after the top of the first inning, whether the visiting team has put up an ‘0,’ or an ‘8’ or something in-between. It just makes me smile to see it, knowing the game has just begun.
April’s a great month. The Final Four; the Masters and early season baseball—which is full of hope for everyone. I can’t wait.
Comments (9)
First post redux; Quick question
Readers – as you know from time to time, the hands on the clock speed by quickly in the morning. Well, today was one of those for John, as in ‘Woops, I forgot what my day was like….I’m walking out the door to take Danny to school, to do an appearance at a school and driving to Philadelphia for interviews.” Therefore, there will be no original blog post today – if not the first occurrence on a work day, a rare one indeed. In its stead, we thought a post that many have not read would be his inaugural blog post, and you’ll find it below. In the meantime, if there are any topics on the top of your head that you want to get into over the next couple of weeks, feel free to post in the comments section as he reads and enjoys all the comments and emails. He'll be back posting on Monday.....have a great weekend.
FOTB Staff
-------------------------------
There are a number of phrases in the English language I honestly thought I would never find myself writing. Among them would be things like, “the warmth and humor of Barry Bonds.” (Remember him?). Or, “The modesty of Phil Jackson.” (More on that on another day).
But the number one phrase I thought I’d never write is this one: “Welcome to my blog.”
I learned to read by grabbing The New York Times before my parents woke up and working my way through stories on the Mets and Jets and Knicks and Rangers. I’ve worked for newspapers all my life and still do—proudly—even in these very difficult times for our business. When people ask me what I do I usually say, “I’m a reporter.” That means I deal in facts, often laced with opinions when I write columns, but not in rumors. You will never read on this blog, “I hear that…” We all hear things and in today’s world, in the world of the blog in particular, anything is apparently fair game.
Not for me.
What I hope to do here each day is write about something that’s on my mind. It may be something that’s funny like yesterday when one of the cops at Bethpage told me he didn’t think my credential let me into the clubhouse (it did) but it was okay with him if I went in because he knew I was, “a Long Island guy.”
Some days I may get on a soap box on the hypocrisy of the BCS or how foolish the Atlanta Braves look forcing Tom Glavine into retirement because they didn’t want to spend a million bucks to bring him up to the big leagues. Other days I might just tell stories—old ones, new ones. Occasionally I may rail about the internet not working in a hotel—as was the case this morning. It’s amazing how the world has changed. In the old days all I needed in a hotel room was a bed, a working TV and an air conditioner that didn’t make noise. Now the first thing I check is to see if the internet is working.
The U.S. Open begins tomorrow morning. I’ve probably done 40 radio interviews in the last three days, most of them connected with the book I wrote with Rocco Mediate about his life and last year’s remarkable Open which is called, “Are You Kidding Me?” which is Rocco’s description with one word missing (rhymes with ducking) of that week. All the interviewers ask about whether Rocco has a chance to make another miracle run here (Yes he can though it isn’t likely. He hasn’t been playing real well but this is his kind of golf course).
They then ask the same two questions: What about Tiger and what about Phil?
Do I have any brilliant insight into either one? No. For one thing Tiger doesn’t let anybody inside his life although he’s great at making it SOUND like he’s telling you a lot. I do know he was very unhappy when people were whispering that he wasn’t the same player after his knee surgery.
He was right. I mean the guy wins once and doesn’t finish out of the top NINE in five stroke play events and people are questioning him? That’s like the Republicans I know who started questioning President Obama halfway through his inaugural address. Tiger is still Tiger. He’s going to blow past Jack Nicklaus and keep going because he wants to put the record so far out there it will be almost impossible for anyone to come and get it.
Curtis Strange, who won two U.S. Opens made a great point last night: “If you were to write down the 10 greatest shots of all time in major championships, Tiger’s probably hit eight of them. He then went on to say that the chip-in Tiger pulled off on the 11th at Memorial on Sunday, “can’t be done. You can NOT do what he did.”
So enough about Tiger slipping.
As for Mickelson, all you can say is that he and his family are going through a nightmare millions go through. I’ve been through it in my own family. BEST case scenario it will be a nightmare for Amy and for him and those around him. I would think the waiting until July 1 might be the worst part of it all. At least once you get started you feel as if you are moving towards what you hope is the finish line.
It will feel like a Rangers playoff game in Madison Square Garden this weekend if he somehow gets in contention.
Okay, that’s it for today. I have now written my first blog. I hope there will be many more to come but I do feel right now as if I should go take a shower.
FOTB Staff
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There are a number of phrases in the English language I honestly thought I would never find myself writing. Among them would be things like, “the warmth and humor of Barry Bonds.” (Remember him?). Or, “The modesty of Phil Jackson.” (More on that on another day).
But the number one phrase I thought I’d never write is this one: “Welcome to my blog.”
I learned to read by grabbing The New York Times before my parents woke up and working my way through stories on the Mets and Jets and Knicks and Rangers. I’ve worked for newspapers all my life and still do—proudly—even in these very difficult times for our business. When people ask me what I do I usually say, “I’m a reporter.” That means I deal in facts, often laced with opinions when I write columns, but not in rumors. You will never read on this blog, “I hear that…” We all hear things and in today’s world, in the world of the blog in particular, anything is apparently fair game.
Not for me.
What I hope to do here each day is write about something that’s on my mind. It may be something that’s funny like yesterday when one of the cops at Bethpage told me he didn’t think my credential let me into the clubhouse (it did) but it was okay with him if I went in because he knew I was, “a Long Island guy.”
Some days I may get on a soap box on the hypocrisy of the BCS or how foolish the Atlanta Braves look forcing Tom Glavine into retirement because they didn’t want to spend a million bucks to bring him up to the big leagues. Other days I might just tell stories—old ones, new ones. Occasionally I may rail about the internet not working in a hotel—as was the case this morning. It’s amazing how the world has changed. In the old days all I needed in a hotel room was a bed, a working TV and an air conditioner that didn’t make noise. Now the first thing I check is to see if the internet is working.
The U.S. Open begins tomorrow morning. I’ve probably done 40 radio interviews in the last three days, most of them connected with the book I wrote with Rocco Mediate about his life and last year’s remarkable Open which is called, “Are You Kidding Me?” which is Rocco’s description with one word missing (rhymes with ducking) of that week. All the interviewers ask about whether Rocco has a chance to make another miracle run here (Yes he can though it isn’t likely. He hasn’t been playing real well but this is his kind of golf course).
They then ask the same two questions: What about Tiger and what about Phil?
Do I have any brilliant insight into either one? No. For one thing Tiger doesn’t let anybody inside his life although he’s great at making it SOUND like he’s telling you a lot. I do know he was very unhappy when people were whispering that he wasn’t the same player after his knee surgery.
He was right. I mean the guy wins once and doesn’t finish out of the top NINE in five stroke play events and people are questioning him? That’s like the Republicans I know who started questioning President Obama halfway through his inaugural address. Tiger is still Tiger. He’s going to blow past Jack Nicklaus and keep going because he wants to put the record so far out there it will be almost impossible for anyone to come and get it.
Curtis Strange, who won two U.S. Opens made a great point last night: “If you were to write down the 10 greatest shots of all time in major championships, Tiger’s probably hit eight of them. He then went on to say that the chip-in Tiger pulled off on the 11th at Memorial on Sunday, “can’t be done. You can NOT do what he did.”
So enough about Tiger slipping.
As for Mickelson, all you can say is that he and his family are going through a nightmare millions go through. I’ve been through it in my own family. BEST case scenario it will be a nightmare for Amy and for him and those around him. I would think the waiting until July 1 might be the worst part of it all. At least once you get started you feel as if you are moving towards what you hope is the finish line.
It will feel like a Rangers playoff game in Madison Square Garden this weekend if he somehow gets in contention.
Okay, that’s it for today. I have now written my first blog. I hope there will be many more to come but I do feel right now as if I should go take a shower.
Comments (5)
Rules need to be enforced, and changed, to shorten length of games
Tue, Jan 19 2010 09:55
| college football, NBA, college basketball, NHL, MLB, Officials, ESPN
| Permalink
Can we talk this morning about how long it takes to play games these days?
As someone who has spent most of his adult life dealing with deadlines while covering games I’m always aware of how long a game is taking even when I’m sitting at home half-watching while I’m reading something.
It’s truly gotten ridiculous.
I kind of went around the bend on this eight days ago when Louisville and Villanova played a game in which something like 90 free throws were shot and a 7 o’clock tipoff ended (in regulation) at 9:45. Even Brent Musburger, who was doing the next game in the doubleheader couldn’t resist commenting when he was doing an update that, “I hope your game ends before ours does fellas.”
There were about two minutes left in the first half of Oklahoma State-Oklahoma by the time Louisville-Villanova finally ended.
Last Saturday I spent the day at home with games going on from 11 a.m. on. Not one game I watched all or part of ended inside the two -hour window that TV plans for a college basketball game. Most didn’t come close. There are now NINE TV timeouts in every game—and by the way is there some way to stop calling them, ‘media timeouts'? I have never asked for nor been given a time out in my life. They exist for TV and, occasionally, for radio. One of those timeouts is the first called time out of the second half, which is “technically,” a 30 second time out but “becomes,” a full timeout.
Utterly ridiculous. Here are some other things that delay games: the mindless halftime interviews with the coaches. Understand that when the breathless sideline reporter is asking the coach what went wrong/right in the first half and usually getting gems like, “we have to rebound better,” or “I thought we shot the ball very well,” the halftime clock isn’t moving. It’s frozen until the coach pulls free—which Wake Forest’s Dino Gaudio almost literally had to do on Sunday night because the reporter insisted on asking him what he planned to do to rebound better (gee, I don’t know go out and recruit taller players the next 15 minutes?)—and gets to the locker room.
There are also times—especially on ESPN—where coming out of commercial the producer will insist on getting the ‘talent,’ on camera for 30 seconds to say something brilliant like, “What a great atmosphere here tonight,” while play is held until they’re finished.
Wait, I’ve got more: There are two rules changes that need to be made: 1. Once a player is handed the ball to shoot his first free throw he can’t have contact with his teammates until the second shot is out of his hands. All of this slapping hands after the first free throw— they do it make or miss nowadays—is silly and if you add it up over a course of a game adds five to ten minutes. 2. When a player fouls out this bit with both teams running to the bench for an impromptu time out needs to stop. Coaches do not need 30 seconds at that point to decide who to sub. They know who they’re subbing and if they don’t—tough. Give them 10 seconds and tell the players to get lined up at the free throw line in the meantime.
Another thing: Officials need to be far more vigilante about getting teams out of their huddles. This deal with coaches having to stand on the court and talk to one another before they talk to the players is ridiculous. To quote Red Auerbach: “You’re getting paid millions to be the head coach you damn well ought to know what to say to your players during a time out.”
The other night I was at a game (honestly I don’t remember which one) and one team was lagging coming out of the huddle. When the official went in to get the players, the coach actually held up his hand to say, “give me a minute here, I’m not quite done.” The response to that should be simple: Signal the official who has the ball to start the 10 second clock and then put the ball on the floor and start counting to five. Remember when officials did that? People got out of the huddle then.
I know these are all little things but they add up. College basketball games shouldn’t be taking two-and-a-half hours. When we get to postseason they get longer: halftime on CBS goes to 20 minutes instead of 15 (plus the time for the silly coaches interviews); 30 second time outs become 45 seconds to get in extra commercials. At this rate it won’t be long before the national championship game ends at midnight on the east coast.
It’s also worth noting that the 20-minute halftime came about in 2003 when the war in Iraq started on the first day of the tournament. CBS asked for the extra five minutes to do war updates. Fine. But the next year the time outs were still 20 minutes and they’ve remained that way ever since, which certainly isn’t good for the players. I’ve been in locker rooms. By about the eight minute mark, everyone is getting antsy to get back on the court. When I brought this up with the NCAA basketball committee a few years ago someone said, “Well, you know when you’re in a dome it takes longer to get to and from the locker room.”
Five minutes longer? How about 10 seconds longer—if that.
This problem isn’t unique to basketball. College football is a joke. I’ve said for years the first down rule should be changed to stop the clock ONLY in the last two minutes of each half. The notion that you need to stop the clock on a first down with 13:47 left in the first quarter is ludicrous. Four hour games are just too long even if they have dramatic finishes. They may not seem so bad watching at home where you can keep clicking around to other games during the endless commercials but if you’re in the stadium those commercials are torture. Nothing is worse than a Notre Dame on NBC where some commercials last longer than the careers of a lot of college basketball players.
Baseball, especially in the American League or if Tony LaRussa is managing, can take days to play. There are two rules changes that need to be made: Trips to the mound should be limited not to one per inning per pitcher but to one TOTAL for the starting pitcher and one more TOTAL after he leaves the game. A catcher shouldn’t be allowed to go out to the mound more than once per batter. Learn how to change signals with a runner on second base in spring training.
Far more important is keeping batters in the box. We now have a generation of hitters who routinely step out after EVERY pitch. They re-adjust their gloves, tug on their helmet, kick at the dirt, take a deep breath and step back in. PLEASE. Simple rules-change: You can step out one time during an at-bat. The only way you can step out more than once is if you’re hurt or knocked down. While we’re at it, make umpires ENFORCE the 20-second rule on pitchers with the bases empty.
The NFL has gotten better although it is maddening when TV takes back-to-back time outs after a touchdown or field goal: team scores, extra point is kicked—commercial. Kickoff—commercial again. As I said, at home it isn’t so bad. In the stadium, especially when it’s cold—brutal. The NBA needs to make two rules-changes: teams get one time out in the last two minutes and no more and get rid of the move-the-ball-to-midcourt after a time out rule. In what other sport are you allowed to advance the ball half the playing field as a reward for calling time out?
Hockey’s pretty good overall although having the hockey package this year I’ve noticed there are a number of linesmen who think fans come to the arena to watch them drop the puck. I know they want it to be fair and get it right but for God’s sake drop the thing and let’s move on.
The biggest change though is still college basketball. I know I sound like I’m 100 when I harken back to my days as a kid when games were played in 90 minutes. Those days are gone and aren’t coming back but it is completely out-of-hand. I know TV needs its time outs but NINE—seriously NINE? Throw in a couple more commercials at halftime. We can live without the yammering studio shows anyway. Throw in a couple of simple, sensible rules changes and for the love of God get rid of the halftime interviews. The coaches hate them, the fans hate them, please tell me who likes them?
I’m guessing it must be some of the same people who, at the “urging,” of John Calipari are planning to fill Rupp Arena one Saturday to jump up and down in front of the cameras for ‘GameDay.’ My God, The Apocalypse really is upon us.
As someone who has spent most of his adult life dealing with deadlines while covering games I’m always aware of how long a game is taking even when I’m sitting at home half-watching while I’m reading something.
It’s truly gotten ridiculous.
I kind of went around the bend on this eight days ago when Louisville and Villanova played a game in which something like 90 free throws were shot and a 7 o’clock tipoff ended (in regulation) at 9:45. Even Brent Musburger, who was doing the next game in the doubleheader couldn’t resist commenting when he was doing an update that, “I hope your game ends before ours does fellas.”
There were about two minutes left in the first half of Oklahoma State-Oklahoma by the time Louisville-Villanova finally ended.
Last Saturday I spent the day at home with games going on from 11 a.m. on. Not one game I watched all or part of ended inside the two -hour window that TV plans for a college basketball game. Most didn’t come close. There are now NINE TV timeouts in every game—and by the way is there some way to stop calling them, ‘media timeouts'? I have never asked for nor been given a time out in my life. They exist for TV and, occasionally, for radio. One of those timeouts is the first called time out of the second half, which is “technically,” a 30 second time out but “becomes,” a full timeout.
Utterly ridiculous. Here are some other things that delay games: the mindless halftime interviews with the coaches. Understand that when the breathless sideline reporter is asking the coach what went wrong/right in the first half and usually getting gems like, “we have to rebound better,” or “I thought we shot the ball very well,” the halftime clock isn’t moving. It’s frozen until the coach pulls free—which Wake Forest’s Dino Gaudio almost literally had to do on Sunday night because the reporter insisted on asking him what he planned to do to rebound better (gee, I don’t know go out and recruit taller players the next 15 minutes?)—and gets to the locker room.
There are also times—especially on ESPN—where coming out of commercial the producer will insist on getting the ‘talent,’ on camera for 30 seconds to say something brilliant like, “What a great atmosphere here tonight,” while play is held until they’re finished.
Wait, I’ve got more: There are two rules changes that need to be made: 1. Once a player is handed the ball to shoot his first free throw he can’t have contact with his teammates until the second shot is out of his hands. All of this slapping hands after the first free throw— they do it make or miss nowadays—is silly and if you add it up over a course of a game adds five to ten minutes. 2. When a player fouls out this bit with both teams running to the bench for an impromptu time out needs to stop. Coaches do not need 30 seconds at that point to decide who to sub. They know who they’re subbing and if they don’t—tough. Give them 10 seconds and tell the players to get lined up at the free throw line in the meantime.
Another thing: Officials need to be far more vigilante about getting teams out of their huddles. This deal with coaches having to stand on the court and talk to one another before they talk to the players is ridiculous. To quote Red Auerbach: “You’re getting paid millions to be the head coach you damn well ought to know what to say to your players during a time out.”
The other night I was at a game (honestly I don’t remember which one) and one team was lagging coming out of the huddle. When the official went in to get the players, the coach actually held up his hand to say, “give me a minute here, I’m not quite done.” The response to that should be simple: Signal the official who has the ball to start the 10 second clock and then put the ball on the floor and start counting to five. Remember when officials did that? People got out of the huddle then.
I know these are all little things but they add up. College basketball games shouldn’t be taking two-and-a-half hours. When we get to postseason they get longer: halftime on CBS goes to 20 minutes instead of 15 (plus the time for the silly coaches interviews); 30 second time outs become 45 seconds to get in extra commercials. At this rate it won’t be long before the national championship game ends at midnight on the east coast.
It’s also worth noting that the 20-minute halftime came about in 2003 when the war in Iraq started on the first day of the tournament. CBS asked for the extra five minutes to do war updates. Fine. But the next year the time outs were still 20 minutes and they’ve remained that way ever since, which certainly isn’t good for the players. I’ve been in locker rooms. By about the eight minute mark, everyone is getting antsy to get back on the court. When I brought this up with the NCAA basketball committee a few years ago someone said, “Well, you know when you’re in a dome it takes longer to get to and from the locker room.”
Five minutes longer? How about 10 seconds longer—if that.
This problem isn’t unique to basketball. College football is a joke. I’ve said for years the first down rule should be changed to stop the clock ONLY in the last two minutes of each half. The notion that you need to stop the clock on a first down with 13:47 left in the first quarter is ludicrous. Four hour games are just too long even if they have dramatic finishes. They may not seem so bad watching at home where you can keep clicking around to other games during the endless commercials but if you’re in the stadium those commercials are torture. Nothing is worse than a Notre Dame on NBC where some commercials last longer than the careers of a lot of college basketball players.
Baseball, especially in the American League or if Tony LaRussa is managing, can take days to play. There are two rules changes that need to be made: Trips to the mound should be limited not to one per inning per pitcher but to one TOTAL for the starting pitcher and one more TOTAL after he leaves the game. A catcher shouldn’t be allowed to go out to the mound more than once per batter. Learn how to change signals with a runner on second base in spring training.
Far more important is keeping batters in the box. We now have a generation of hitters who routinely step out after EVERY pitch. They re-adjust their gloves, tug on their helmet, kick at the dirt, take a deep breath and step back in. PLEASE. Simple rules-change: You can step out one time during an at-bat. The only way you can step out more than once is if you’re hurt or knocked down. While we’re at it, make umpires ENFORCE the 20-second rule on pitchers with the bases empty.
The NFL has gotten better although it is maddening when TV takes back-to-back time outs after a touchdown or field goal: team scores, extra point is kicked—commercial. Kickoff—commercial again. As I said, at home it isn’t so bad. In the stadium, especially when it’s cold—brutal. The NBA needs to make two rules-changes: teams get one time out in the last two minutes and no more and get rid of the move-the-ball-to-midcourt after a time out rule. In what other sport are you allowed to advance the ball half the playing field as a reward for calling time out?
Hockey’s pretty good overall although having the hockey package this year I’ve noticed there are a number of linesmen who think fans come to the arena to watch them drop the puck. I know they want it to be fair and get it right but for God’s sake drop the thing and let’s move on.
The biggest change though is still college basketball. I know I sound like I’m 100 when I harken back to my days as a kid when games were played in 90 minutes. Those days are gone and aren’t coming back but it is completely out-of-hand. I know TV needs its time outs but NINE—seriously NINE? Throw in a couple more commercials at halftime. We can live without the yammering studio shows anyway. Throw in a couple of simple, sensible rules changes and for the love of God get rid of the halftime interviews. The coaches hate them, the fans hate them, please tell me who likes them?
I’m guessing it must be some of the same people who, at the “urging,” of John Calipari are planning to fill Rupp Arena one Saturday to jump up and down in front of the cameras for ‘GameDay.’ My God, The Apocalypse really is upon us.
Comments (15)
Potential ramifications for decisions by Mets, Wizards on Beltran, Arenas
Fri, Jan 15 2010 11:30
| Mets, NBA, Carlos Beltra, Gilbert Arenas, MLB, Washington Wizards
| Permalink
Carlos Beltran and Gilbert Arenas are both in the news today.
Arenas will be in court later today to accept a plea bargain that in all likelihood will keep him out of jail. I’m going to refrain from saying too much about this until it actually happens because there’s no point in ripping the prosecutors for copping out until I actually know they’ve copped out.
Beltran isn’t going to court or to jail but he won’t be playing baseball for a while. He had surgery on his arthritic knee on Wednesday and is likely not to be able to resume baseball activities for at least 12 weeks. My guess is he won’t be penciled into a Major League lineup card before May. All of which means the Mets have pretty much picked up at the start of 2010 where they left off in 2009.
But I’m not writing about Beltran to rip the Mets—although they are eminently rippable. They are so incompetent that they can’t even get a player they owe $37 million to over the next two years to go and see one of their doctors before having surgery. Then they whine about it and don’t even send their general manager to talk to the media about it. Apparently after some of his bang-up performances last summer (notably in the Tony Bernazard debacle) the Mets don’t trust Omar Minaya to speak in public. Which begs the question: If you don’t trust him to run a simple press conference how can you trust him to rebuild your broken ballclub?
As I said though, that’s another issue for another day. Today is about what Beltran and Arenas have in common. Which is this: The Mets are reportedly considering the possibility of refusing to pay Beltran while he is out of the lineup because he had the surgery without their formal permission OR even going so far as to try to void his contract. The Washington Wizards are reportedly thinking about trying to void Arenas’s contract—worth another $80 million after this season is over—on the grounds that he will have pleaded guilty to a felony even if he avoids jail time.
Chances are very good the Mets will back down. Chances are decent the Wizards will back down too and see if there’s any way to trade Arenas.
The reason neither team is likely to take any seriously punitive action has little to do with the players involved. It has to do with potential future players.
It really doesn’t matter that Arenas acted like a complete bonehead in this whole thing from the moment he put the guns in his car and drove them from his home in Virginia to The Verizon Center in Washington, committing a crime the minute he crossed the bridge into D.C.
It doesn’t matter that Arenas acted as if the whole thing was a joke until he was suspended by NBA Commissioner David Stern. It doesn’t even matter that he has said when this is over everyone will owe him an apology.
The Wizards are probably going to have to rebuild their entire team—again. Arenas has to be gone one way or the other and they will try to trade Antawn Jamison and Caron Butler because both players have considerable value, especially to teams in contention. The draft only has two rounds and if you get one truly outstanding player in a draft that’s a good year. That means you have to sign free agents.
Are there some players (and coaches) who will sign with the highest bidder, regardless of who it is? Absolutely. How else can Dan Snyder, whose reputation as the worst owner in sports always precedes him, continue to sign free agent players and big name coaches? If you believe Mike Shanahan when he says he took over the Redskins because of how much he likes Snyder, I have oceanfront land in Kansas I’d like to sell you. Shanahan’s friends are the checks for $7 million a year Snyder will be writing.
But if someone else had matched that $7 million, Shanahan probably would have been very good friends with THAT owner. And the Wizards will worry that if a free agent has a choice between their organization and another that’s offering comparable money, Arenas’s name will come up. As in, “you guys are the ones that voided Gil’s contract.”
Don’t think for a second that won’t happen. Before this is over—especially if the Wizards do void the contract—Arenas is going to be the victim here. There will be apologists pointing out athletes who have done worse things (there are) and pointing out that Delonte West was acting far more reckless than Arenas last fall when he was arrested on a motorcycle on the Washington Beltway carrying guns. That’s also true. It’s also true that West has kept his mouth shut and not tried to act as if the whole thing was a joke.
Reality doesn’t matter here. Athletes live in their own reality, one in which Tiger Woods’s agent can actually send an e-mail to a New York Times reporter saying, “Give the kid a break.” The kid being a 34-year-old, billionaire father of two who has been in the public eye for 20 years and crafted an image that has been proven to be totally false.
No doubt a lot of basketball players will think the Wizards failed to give Arenas a break. The Wizards know that. They know that voiding the contract (IF their action is upheld when the players’ union contests it) will save a lot of money short term and will give them a partial escape from this disaster. But they also know that anytime a free agent doesn’t sign with them, people will wonder if Arenas was part of the reason. And if by some chance a player comes out and says, “I wouldn’t sign with Washington because of what they did to Gil,” whether what they did to Gil was fair or unfair will be a moot point.
The Mets and Beltran are different. Beltran’s never been in any trouble at all and for a lot of the last five years has been the Mets best player. And yet—he’s been hurt a lot. He also has become for many fans the symbol of their frustrations in recent years. If you are a Mets fan (which as I always confess I am…sigh) it is pretty much impossible to forget the sight of Beltran with his bat on his shoulder while strike three went past him with two outs in the bottom of the ninth of game seven of The 2006 National League Championship Series.
Beltran’s had good moments since then but the Mets collapsed in September of 2007 and 2008 and in early June in 2009. Beltran, like a lot of his teammates (Jose Reyes, Carlos Delgado, J.J. Puetz; even David Wright) missed large chunks of the season. Now, after saying his knee felt fine all fall, he has surgery five weeks before spring training begins.
Beltran’s agent, the lovely and talented Scott Boras, insists that the doctor who did the surgery in Denver consulted with the Mets team doctor, David Altchek and got the go-ahead to do the surgery. Then—according to Boras—after Beltran was IN surgery on Wednesday, the Mets called again to say they wanted Beltran to see their doctors. If that version proves true not only do the Mets have no case against Beltran but they have pulled yet another public relations blunder by ripping a key player who did nothing wrong.
If that’s NOT the case and Beltran did the surgery without letting the Mets know he was doing it, then the Mets do have a case—certainly in terms of not paying him until he can play again.
But don’t bet on the Mets to do any of that. More likely they will come back and say it was all a big misunderstanding and everyone loves everyone. Minaya tried to blame the Bernazard debacle on Adam Rubin of The New York Daily News. Maybe the Mets will blame Adam for this too.
But you can bet they won’t take drastic action against Beltran. They’re going to need to sign free agents to rebuild again. And, while money talks, it someone else has money that’s also talking, a “reputation,” for not taking care of your players can quickly shut your money down.
What a world. And people wonder why I hang out at Patriot League basketball games.
Arenas will be in court later today to accept a plea bargain that in all likelihood will keep him out of jail. I’m going to refrain from saying too much about this until it actually happens because there’s no point in ripping the prosecutors for copping out until I actually know they’ve copped out.
Beltran isn’t going to court or to jail but he won’t be playing baseball for a while. He had surgery on his arthritic knee on Wednesday and is likely not to be able to resume baseball activities for at least 12 weeks. My guess is he won’t be penciled into a Major League lineup card before May. All of which means the Mets have pretty much picked up at the start of 2010 where they left off in 2009.
But I’m not writing about Beltran to rip the Mets—although they are eminently rippable. They are so incompetent that they can’t even get a player they owe $37 million to over the next two years to go and see one of their doctors before having surgery. Then they whine about it and don’t even send their general manager to talk to the media about it. Apparently after some of his bang-up performances last summer (notably in the Tony Bernazard debacle) the Mets don’t trust Omar Minaya to speak in public. Which begs the question: If you don’t trust him to run a simple press conference how can you trust him to rebuild your broken ballclub?
As I said though, that’s another issue for another day. Today is about what Beltran and Arenas have in common. Which is this: The Mets are reportedly considering the possibility of refusing to pay Beltran while he is out of the lineup because he had the surgery without their formal permission OR even going so far as to try to void his contract. The Washington Wizards are reportedly thinking about trying to void Arenas’s contract—worth another $80 million after this season is over—on the grounds that he will have pleaded guilty to a felony even if he avoids jail time.
Chances are very good the Mets will back down. Chances are decent the Wizards will back down too and see if there’s any way to trade Arenas.
The reason neither team is likely to take any seriously punitive action has little to do with the players involved. It has to do with potential future players.
It really doesn’t matter that Arenas acted like a complete bonehead in this whole thing from the moment he put the guns in his car and drove them from his home in Virginia to The Verizon Center in Washington, committing a crime the minute he crossed the bridge into D.C.
It doesn’t matter that Arenas acted as if the whole thing was a joke until he was suspended by NBA Commissioner David Stern. It doesn’t even matter that he has said when this is over everyone will owe him an apology.
The Wizards are probably going to have to rebuild their entire team—again. Arenas has to be gone one way or the other and they will try to trade Antawn Jamison and Caron Butler because both players have considerable value, especially to teams in contention. The draft only has two rounds and if you get one truly outstanding player in a draft that’s a good year. That means you have to sign free agents.
Are there some players (and coaches) who will sign with the highest bidder, regardless of who it is? Absolutely. How else can Dan Snyder, whose reputation as the worst owner in sports always precedes him, continue to sign free agent players and big name coaches? If you believe Mike Shanahan when he says he took over the Redskins because of how much he likes Snyder, I have oceanfront land in Kansas I’d like to sell you. Shanahan’s friends are the checks for $7 million a year Snyder will be writing.
But if someone else had matched that $7 million, Shanahan probably would have been very good friends with THAT owner. And the Wizards will worry that if a free agent has a choice between their organization and another that’s offering comparable money, Arenas’s name will come up. As in, “you guys are the ones that voided Gil’s contract.”
Don’t think for a second that won’t happen. Before this is over—especially if the Wizards do void the contract—Arenas is going to be the victim here. There will be apologists pointing out athletes who have done worse things (there are) and pointing out that Delonte West was acting far more reckless than Arenas last fall when he was arrested on a motorcycle on the Washington Beltway carrying guns. That’s also true. It’s also true that West has kept his mouth shut and not tried to act as if the whole thing was a joke.
Reality doesn’t matter here. Athletes live in their own reality, one in which Tiger Woods’s agent can actually send an e-mail to a New York Times reporter saying, “Give the kid a break.” The kid being a 34-year-old, billionaire father of two who has been in the public eye for 20 years and crafted an image that has been proven to be totally false.
No doubt a lot of basketball players will think the Wizards failed to give Arenas a break. The Wizards know that. They know that voiding the contract (IF their action is upheld when the players’ union contests it) will save a lot of money short term and will give them a partial escape from this disaster. But they also know that anytime a free agent doesn’t sign with them, people will wonder if Arenas was part of the reason. And if by some chance a player comes out and says, “I wouldn’t sign with Washington because of what they did to Gil,” whether what they did to Gil was fair or unfair will be a moot point.
The Mets and Beltran are different. Beltran’s never been in any trouble at all and for a lot of the last five years has been the Mets best player. And yet—he’s been hurt a lot. He also has become for many fans the symbol of their frustrations in recent years. If you are a Mets fan (which as I always confess I am…sigh) it is pretty much impossible to forget the sight of Beltran with his bat on his shoulder while strike three went past him with two outs in the bottom of the ninth of game seven of The 2006 National League Championship Series.
Beltran’s had good moments since then but the Mets collapsed in September of 2007 and 2008 and in early June in 2009. Beltran, like a lot of his teammates (Jose Reyes, Carlos Delgado, J.J. Puetz; even David Wright) missed large chunks of the season. Now, after saying his knee felt fine all fall, he has surgery five weeks before spring training begins.
Beltran’s agent, the lovely and talented Scott Boras, insists that the doctor who did the surgery in Denver consulted with the Mets team doctor, David Altchek and got the go-ahead to do the surgery. Then—according to Boras—after Beltran was IN surgery on Wednesday, the Mets called again to say they wanted Beltran to see their doctors. If that version proves true not only do the Mets have no case against Beltran but they have pulled yet another public relations blunder by ripping a key player who did nothing wrong.
If that’s NOT the case and Beltran did the surgery without letting the Mets know he was doing it, then the Mets do have a case—certainly in terms of not paying him until he can play again.
But don’t bet on the Mets to do any of that. More likely they will come back and say it was all a big misunderstanding and everyone loves everyone. Minaya tried to blame the Bernazard debacle on Adam Rubin of The New York Daily News. Maybe the Mets will blame Adam for this too.
But you can bet they won’t take drastic action against Beltran. They’re going to need to sign free agents to rebuild again. And, while money talks, it someone else has money that’s also talking, a “reputation,” for not taking care of your players can quickly shut your money down.
What a world. And people wonder why I hang out at Patriot League basketball games.
Comments (7)
For now, let’s give Mark McGwire credit for finally making an admission
Tue, Jan 12 2010 10:28
| Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, MLB, Ari Fleischer, steroids, St. Louis Cardinals, Jose Canseco
| Permalink
I always liked Mark McGwire. I can’t claim to know him well but I did interview him and talk to him on a number of occasions during the 1990s, beginning in 1992 when I wrote, “Play Ball.” He was still in Oakland then and while he would never be described as outgoing he was smart, thoughtful and—unlike his then-teammate Jose Canseco—when he said he was going to talk to you at 3:30 on Tuesday he showed up at 3:30 on Tuesday.
(Not that no-showing for a scheduled interview, even on multiple occasions, made Canseco unique by any means. The all-timer was Kevin Mitchell who told me to meet him in the clubhouse at 2 o’clock one afternoon. I asked him if he really planned to get there that early for a 7:30 game. Absolutely, he said, 2 o’clock. I was there at 2 o’clock and had to sit outside the clubhouse in a drafty hallway because there was no one inside at that hour. Mitchell showed up at 5 o’clock—ten minutes before he had to be on the field to stretch before batting practice. No apology, no explanation. “I can give you five minutes,” he said. I told him not to bother).
I wrote about McGwire—with no discussion of steroids because it really hadn’t become an issue at that time—in ‘Play Ball.’ In 1995, after the players strike ended, I walked into the A’s clubhouse in Baltimore one afternoon and heard McGwire calling my name across the room. I went over to say hello and, as we shook hands, he said, “Why are you just about the only guy who understood what the strike was about?”
Needless to say I REALLY liked him at that point. We talked at length about the strike and about my testimony before Congress when I had more or less gone head-to-head with Bud Selig, testifying at the same time he did.
Three years later when McGwire and Sammy Sosa lit up the summer with their home run duel I was as enthralled as anybody else. By then though there were whispers—about BOTH of them, more Sosa than McGwire to be honest because McGwire had always been a big guy and had hit 49 home runs as a rookie in Oakland. Sosa had gone from flat out skinny to flat out muscular. McGwire was huge. I remember thinking one day when I was in the Cardinals clubhouse, that his arms were about as big as any I’d seen on anyone who wasn’t a bodybuilder.
Still, like a lot of others, I didn’t get it. Maybe I didn’t want to get it. As time went by and more and more evidence came out there wasn’t much doubt that a lot of guys had been using steroids.
Then came Canseco’s book—which has thus far proven to be almost completely accurate—and the embarrassing Congressional hearing when McGwire took the fifth; Rafael Palmeiro lied and Sosa forgot how to speak English. There was never much doubt after that about what steroids were doing to baseball.
When I wrote, “Living on the Black,” in 2007 I talked at length with both Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina about steroid use. Their educated guesses were that at least 25 percent of Major Leaguers had used on a regular basis before steroid testing finally came into play in 2003 and that at least 50 percent had at least experimented at some time. On the day the Mitchell report came out I was wrapping up the research on the book and called them both. The most telling comment came from Glavine: “I’m more surprised by the names NOT in the report than by the names that are in it.”
No one was surprised on Monday when McGwire finally admitted he had used steroids. Most people I know reacted with the famous line from Inspector Renaud in ‘Casablanca,’: “I’m shocked, SHOCKED that McGwire used steroids.’ Once McGwire signed on with the St. Louis Cardinals to be their hitting coach everyone knew he was going to have to address the issue because if he didn’t spring training would become a circus and Tony LaRussa didn’t want that.
So, McGwire made his confession in a day carefully orchestrated by former Bush (2) White House press secretary Ari Fleisher, who is making a very good living these days based on his reputation for defending indefensible positions. (He’s also on the BCS payroll).
I don’t think there was anything fake about McGwire’s emotions in his interviews with Bob Costas and others. What’s more, I think he truly believes that the steroids he took weren’t a factor in the 70 home runs he hit in 1998 or the remarkable numbers he put up during the last eight years of his career. Athletes often rationalize their actions to the point where they actually believe they didn’t do anything wrong if only because that’s how they live with the deed. I think McGwire is a good enough guy that knowing, deep down, what he did, really bothers him now. I’m sure the phone call he made to Pat Maris (Roger’s widow) to confess was probably the toughest thing in this whole process.
That said, he’d be a lot better off if he said simply, “I have no idea how much my steroid use affected my power,”—because he doesn’t know. None of us do. Most of us believe it did have an affect and it certainly gave him an advantage over home run hitters of past eras even if you totally believe McGwire’s version of events because it allowed his body to recover from both injuries AND fatigue much faster. There’s also a chicken-and-egg thing going on here: steroids often make players susceptible to injuries. So, how much did McGwire’s early steroid use break his body down and “force,” him (at least in his mind) to continue taking them? Again, we’ll never know.
What we do know is this: he cheated. Steroids, remember WERE banned by Fay Vincent in 1991 when they were declared illegal by the government. There was just no testing because the union stonewalled and the owners liked all the home runs being hit. He also lied in spite of LaRussa’s claim that by not answering questions to Congress he didn’t lie. It’s what’s called a lie of omission, whether talking to Congress or hiding out for most of the last eight years. LaRussa should also stop acting as if McGwire is Mother Theresa: loyalty is an admirable trait but it can go too far. Just say, ‘yeah, Mark screwed up and I’m glad he finally admitted it so he can move on,’ and leave it at that.
Finally, there is the omnipresent Hall of Fame question. I don’t think there’s any doubt that confessing—even though it wasn’t a full confession—will make McGwire’s case much stronger for the Hall in future years. A number of baseball writers, including smart guys like The Washington Post’s Dave Sheinin and ESPN’s Buster Olney have said that they think voters should go ahead and vote for ALL the steroid-era players because no doubt there are some who cheated who simply haven’t been caught or have flown under the radar enough to not be accused.
Personally, I think that’s a cop out. The damage all these guys have done to baseball is incalculable. This isn’t a court of law where one is innocent until proven guilty. This is the court of public opinion. Did anyone think before Monday that McGwire was clean? Does anyone think Barry Bonds is clean? Roger Clemens? Sosa? I don’t think anyone should vote for them.
Olney also raised the very legitimate question this morning about whether writers should be deciding who goes into the Hall of Fame—in any sport. I’m not sure he’s wrong about that and, in fact, The Post doesn’t let any of us vote for any Hall of Fame. That said, the most corrupt and worst Hall of Fame process is The Basketball Hall of Fame, which doesn’t even allow the public to know WHO the voters are which makes the process far more political than others Halls of Fame.
For now, let’s give McGwire credit for finally making an admission—I’m not going to go so far as to say he came clean—and let him move on with his life. No doubt he will be embraced in St. Louis and that’s fine. But if I still had a vote for the Hall of Fame, even though I like the guy, I couldn’t vote for him.
(Not that no-showing for a scheduled interview, even on multiple occasions, made Canseco unique by any means. The all-timer was Kevin Mitchell who told me to meet him in the clubhouse at 2 o’clock one afternoon. I asked him if he really planned to get there that early for a 7:30 game. Absolutely, he said, 2 o’clock. I was there at 2 o’clock and had to sit outside the clubhouse in a drafty hallway because there was no one inside at that hour. Mitchell showed up at 5 o’clock—ten minutes before he had to be on the field to stretch before batting practice. No apology, no explanation. “I can give you five minutes,” he said. I told him not to bother).
I wrote about McGwire—with no discussion of steroids because it really hadn’t become an issue at that time—in ‘Play Ball.’ In 1995, after the players strike ended, I walked into the A’s clubhouse in Baltimore one afternoon and heard McGwire calling my name across the room. I went over to say hello and, as we shook hands, he said, “Why are you just about the only guy who understood what the strike was about?”
Needless to say I REALLY liked him at that point. We talked at length about the strike and about my testimony before Congress when I had more or less gone head-to-head with Bud Selig, testifying at the same time he did.
Three years later when McGwire and Sammy Sosa lit up the summer with their home run duel I was as enthralled as anybody else. By then though there were whispers—about BOTH of them, more Sosa than McGwire to be honest because McGwire had always been a big guy and had hit 49 home runs as a rookie in Oakland. Sosa had gone from flat out skinny to flat out muscular. McGwire was huge. I remember thinking one day when I was in the Cardinals clubhouse, that his arms were about as big as any I’d seen on anyone who wasn’t a bodybuilder.
Still, like a lot of others, I didn’t get it. Maybe I didn’t want to get it. As time went by and more and more evidence came out there wasn’t much doubt that a lot of guys had been using steroids.
Then came Canseco’s book—which has thus far proven to be almost completely accurate—and the embarrassing Congressional hearing when McGwire took the fifth; Rafael Palmeiro lied and Sosa forgot how to speak English. There was never much doubt after that about what steroids were doing to baseball.
When I wrote, “Living on the Black,” in 2007 I talked at length with both Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina about steroid use. Their educated guesses were that at least 25 percent of Major Leaguers had used on a regular basis before steroid testing finally came into play in 2003 and that at least 50 percent had at least experimented at some time. On the day the Mitchell report came out I was wrapping up the research on the book and called them both. The most telling comment came from Glavine: “I’m more surprised by the names NOT in the report than by the names that are in it.”
No one was surprised on Monday when McGwire finally admitted he had used steroids. Most people I know reacted with the famous line from Inspector Renaud in ‘Casablanca,’: “I’m shocked, SHOCKED that McGwire used steroids.’ Once McGwire signed on with the St. Louis Cardinals to be their hitting coach everyone knew he was going to have to address the issue because if he didn’t spring training would become a circus and Tony LaRussa didn’t want that.
So, McGwire made his confession in a day carefully orchestrated by former Bush (2) White House press secretary Ari Fleisher, who is making a very good living these days based on his reputation for defending indefensible positions. (He’s also on the BCS payroll).
I don’t think there was anything fake about McGwire’s emotions in his interviews with Bob Costas and others. What’s more, I think he truly believes that the steroids he took weren’t a factor in the 70 home runs he hit in 1998 or the remarkable numbers he put up during the last eight years of his career. Athletes often rationalize their actions to the point where they actually believe they didn’t do anything wrong if only because that’s how they live with the deed. I think McGwire is a good enough guy that knowing, deep down, what he did, really bothers him now. I’m sure the phone call he made to Pat Maris (Roger’s widow) to confess was probably the toughest thing in this whole process.
That said, he’d be a lot better off if he said simply, “I have no idea how much my steroid use affected my power,”—because he doesn’t know. None of us do. Most of us believe it did have an affect and it certainly gave him an advantage over home run hitters of past eras even if you totally believe McGwire’s version of events because it allowed his body to recover from both injuries AND fatigue much faster. There’s also a chicken-and-egg thing going on here: steroids often make players susceptible to injuries. So, how much did McGwire’s early steroid use break his body down and “force,” him (at least in his mind) to continue taking them? Again, we’ll never know.
What we do know is this: he cheated. Steroids, remember WERE banned by Fay Vincent in 1991 when they were declared illegal by the government. There was just no testing because the union stonewalled and the owners liked all the home runs being hit. He also lied in spite of LaRussa’s claim that by not answering questions to Congress he didn’t lie. It’s what’s called a lie of omission, whether talking to Congress or hiding out for most of the last eight years. LaRussa should also stop acting as if McGwire is Mother Theresa: loyalty is an admirable trait but it can go too far. Just say, ‘yeah, Mark screwed up and I’m glad he finally admitted it so he can move on,’ and leave it at that.
Finally, there is the omnipresent Hall of Fame question. I don’t think there’s any doubt that confessing—even though it wasn’t a full confession—will make McGwire’s case much stronger for the Hall in future years. A number of baseball writers, including smart guys like The Washington Post’s Dave Sheinin and ESPN’s Buster Olney have said that they think voters should go ahead and vote for ALL the steroid-era players because no doubt there are some who cheated who simply haven’t been caught or have flown under the radar enough to not be accused.
Personally, I think that’s a cop out. The damage all these guys have done to baseball is incalculable. This isn’t a court of law where one is innocent until proven guilty. This is the court of public opinion. Did anyone think before Monday that McGwire was clean? Does anyone think Barry Bonds is clean? Roger Clemens? Sosa? I don’t think anyone should vote for them.
Olney also raised the very legitimate question this morning about whether writers should be deciding who goes into the Hall of Fame—in any sport. I’m not sure he’s wrong about that and, in fact, The Post doesn’t let any of us vote for any Hall of Fame. That said, the most corrupt and worst Hall of Fame process is The Basketball Hall of Fame, which doesn’t even allow the public to know WHO the voters are which makes the process far more political than others Halls of Fame.
For now, let’s give McGwire credit for finally making an admission—I’m not going to go so far as to say he came clean—and let him move on with his life. No doubt he will be embraced in St. Louis and that’s fine. But if I still had a vote for the Hall of Fame, even though I like the guy, I couldn’t vote for him.
Comments (16)
Review of a six item news morning – Arenas, Hall of Fame, Redskins, Cornell, PGA Tour and the Islanders
Thu, Jan 7 2010 10:08
| Mike Shanahan, Islanders, PGA Tour, Kansas, Gilbert Arenas, Dan Snyder, MLB, Washington Redskins, David Stern, Cornell
| Permalink
News Item 1: David Stern finally gets mad—justifiably—and suspends Gilbert Arenas indefinitely.
News Item 2: Andre Dawson is voted into The Hall of Fame—good job by the voters. Robert Alomar is not—he should have been but will be next year. Bert Blyleven is not for the 13th straight year. I just don’t get it.
News Item 3: Mike Shanahan is introduced as the new Redskins coach. He deftly ducks questions about who will be in charge and does everything but kiss Dan Snyder on the lips during his press conference. Of course for $35 million most of us would kiss almost anyone on the lips.
News Item 4: Kansas comes from eight points down AT HOME to beat CORNELL. I was a little stunned at game’s end based on the way the fans were acting in Allen Field House that they didn’t storm the court.
News Item 5: The PGA Tour begins the 2010 season today on Maui. Hallelujah. It might be possible to talk about golf for at least a sentence or two without using the words Tiger Woods.
News Item 6: The Islanders come from behind in Colorado, then blow a lead but beat the Avalanche 3-2. They are now at .500. Okay, this may only be a news item to me but what the heck. I went to bed happy.
Now, to review.
Item one--I have no doubt that David Stern would have preferred to wait for the legal process to move further along (he is, after all, a lawyer) before taking action on Gilbert Arenas. But after Arenas’s idiotic behavior on Tuesday in Philadelphia, he had no choice but to act.
The photo of Arenas pretending to ‘shoot,’ his teammates with his fingers—while they all stood around laughing—may have been the most damning moment in this entire debacle. Arenas then made it worse (if possible) with his postgame comment that, if he felt as if he’d done anything wrong, then he’d apologize.
There are some guys in sports who need John McEnroe following them around repeatedly saying, “You cannot be serious!.” (Quick aside: Years ago I was in a hotel room with McEnroe after a match. Mary Carillo was also there as was a friend of McEnroe’s whose name I honestly can’t remember. Room service had been ordered and hadn’t shown up after 45 minutes. McEnroe finally told his friend to call and find out what the hell was going on. The friend picked up the phone and said to McEnroe, “do you want me to just ask what’s going on or, you know, give them the ‘You can NOT be serious,’ bit?’ McEnroe opted for the latter. The food showed up about five minutes later).
Once Stern saw the photo and the quote he had to get Arenas off the court right away. If he hadn’t, he would have looked foolish. Flip Saunders looked pretty bad not taking action right away in Philadelphia but Stern seems to be covering for the Wizards and their inaction by saying he had ordered them not to take action until he did.
My guess is Arenas doesn’t get it and isn’t going to get it. He still thinks his mistake in bringing guns into The Verizon Center was akin to forgetting to slow down in one of those camera speed traps—pay the 40 bucks and move on. It’s pretty clear his teammates haven’t gotten it yet either even though they tried to act as if they did in Cleveland Wednesday night. Still, you could hear them clinging to the, “when the truth comes out it won’t be so bad,” line.
Wrong. This is already really bad and, in all likelihood, the more truth that comes out the worse it is going to be for Arenas.
It’s truly a sad story because this was a guy who lit up a bleak sports skyline when he first came to Washington. And, as if so often the case, the reaction to the mistake has been at least as costly as the mistake itself. If Arenas had instantly thrown himself on the mercy of the court of public opinion and said, ‘My God, what was I thinking, I’m so sorry,” and NOT twittered jokes and NOT shrugged it off as no big deal and NOT still been playing it off as a joke the day after his lawyer released his clearly insincere apology, people would be saying by now, ‘hey, leave him alone, he made a mistake and he acknowledged it.’
Now, even the perpetual jock-defenders are shaking their heads and saying, ‘what was he thinking?’
We all know the answer to that question.
Item Two: I’m happy Andre Dawson made it to the Hall of Fame. In the years that I voted, I always put him on my ballot. (The Washington Post no longer allows writers to vote for Halls of Fame which I think is silly but, hey, they’re writing the checks and I’m cashing them so I don’t vote). He was a great two-way player for a long time, a superb base runner who had a long, productive career. I think his batting average (.279) held him back but all his other numbers were so good—including eight gold gloves—I thought he was deserving.
Alomar is a lock Hall of Famer. The only reason he came up just short this time (73.7 percent of the votes when 75 percent is needed) is because some voters are still punishing him for the 1996 John Hirschbeck spitting incident (Hirschbeck BTW has forgiven him and endorsed his candidacy) and because there are some guys who will not vote for a guy his first time on the ballot.
The second reason is a joke: You either are a Hall of Famer or are not a Hall of Famer. I had this argument with Bill Conlin, for whom I have great respect, when he didn’t vote for Nolan Ryan the first (and only) time he was on the ballot. I’ve always believed that if a voter leaves certain players off the ballot for any reason—like a Cal Ripken or a Tony Gwynn to give two recent examples—he should lose his vote for the next year. Seriously, who died and made any of us God?
The Hirschbeck incident is different. The ballot DOES say that a player’s actions as a person can be taken into account. Alomar—surprise—was initially unrepentant when the incident occurred in 1996. In fact, one of the sadder scenes I’ve ever seen was the first game of the playoffs that year when Oriole fans, normally among the best in baseball, booed the UMPIRES when they came on the field because Alomar was going to be suspended to begin the next season.
That was Alomar’s one truly bad moment and you don’t wipe out an entire career for that. (Steroids is another story entirely).
Blyleven is the mystery to me. He came up a little shy of 300 wins—287—but had some other great numbers, notably the fact that he pitched SIXTY shutouts. Just as one means of comparison, that’s more shutouts than Tom Glavine had complete games (57). Sure, different era, but not THAT different—Glavine was in the big leagues for several years before Blyleven retired.
I’m not picking on Tom—obviously—and he is and should be a lock Hall of Famer since he won 305 games. But sixty shutouts? Are you kidding? Blyleven pitched on a lot of bad teams but on good ones too. There are parts of his record you can nit-pick but overall? He should have been in years ago.
For the record, this isn’t personal at all. The couple of times I dealt with Blyleven as a player he wasn’t especially pleasant. I remember in 1992 when I was doing my first baseball book trying to set a time to talk to him when he was pitching for the Angels. I was in Anaheim for three days and asked if he could give me some time on any of those days since he had just pitched the day before. “I’ve done my media for the week,” he said. (He had done Roy Firestone’s show the day before).
So, I went instead to talk to Jim Abbott, who you may remember became a solid big league pitcher even though he was born without a right hand. “I’ll make you a deal,” Abbott said. “I’ll talk to you for as long as you want about whatever you want if you tell me everything you know about Steffi Graf.” (I’d just written ‘Hard Courts.’)
Jim Abbott is a Hall of Fame guy. Blyleven is a Hall of Fame pitcher.
Item three: Shanahan arrives. Building of monument begins. There’s not much to say about this except that everyone knows if Dan Snyder doesn’t get out of the way it won’t matter how good a coach Shanahan is. When Shanahan was asked who was in charge he answered the question as if the issue was whether he or Bruce Allen had final say. Good answer even though that wasn’t the question.
He also kept saying over and over that he had never met anyone who was more enthusiastic about the Washington Redskins than Dan Snyder. Wow, that’s out on a limb. It’s a little bit like saying you’ve never met anyone more enthusiastic about my books than me. Then he said Joe Gibbs had told him no one had been more supportive of him than Snyder. Last I looked Jack Kent Cooke gave Gibbs everything he could possibly want to help him win three Super Bowls AND chose him in a power struggle with Bobby Beathard—which was probably a mistake. Then again, Snyder did FINANCIALLY support Gibbs better than anyone ever did.
Oh, one more thing: Word today is that Jerry Gray may become the defensive coordinator. What a surprise, the guy Snyder used to get around The Rooney Rule, who stood there and stonewalled for three weeks not only keeps his job but gets promoted. So unlike Snyder.
Item 4—I wrote here last week that Cornell is really good. The Big Red came very close to becoming national darlings last night but couldn’t quite hold on against the No. 1 ranked team in the country. ESPN correctly switched to the late stages of the game from a desultory Duke-Iowa State game and I swear I thought I was watching Kansas-Texas the last five minutes based on the crowd reaction to the rally.
No doubt they were relieved at dodging what they thought would be an embarrassing loss. But really it wouldn’t have been that embarrassing: Cornell’s good. Of course now they will be everyone’s first round upset darling in March. That’s IF they can beat Harvard to win The Ivy League. And if you think the committee is giving the Ivy League an at-large bid you should apply for a job at The Fritz Pollard Alliance and oversee the Rooney Rule.
Item 5—I did my Golf Channel Essay this week on the start of the new season and the fact that it would be nice to be able to watch golf and talk about golf without Tiger coming up in every other sentence. I was trying to make the point that while Tiger is no doubt the face of the game to MANY, there are lots of us who liked golf before Tiger and will continue to like it without Tiger—however long that may be during his ‘leave of absence.’ I brought up the fact that when ‘A Good Walk Spoiled,’ reached number one on The New York Times bestseller list in 1995, the name Tiger Woods appeared once—for two sentences.
One of the better regular posters on the blog, Vince, accused me yesterday of being self-serving by bringing up the book. Maybe, but I honestly thought it tangibly made my point. He said if I’d written the book five or six years later with Tiger as a major character the book would have been on The Times list for three years instead of seven months. Again, maybe. But I’ve written golf books since then that featured Tiger and, while they’ve sold well, they didn’t outsell ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ And, for the record Vince, I was making fun of the 50 percent who only watch golf when Tiger’s playing when I said, “50 percent of us who watch golf do so with or without Tiger.”
Item 6—There was a Rick DiPietro spotting on the Islanders bench last night. He’s been out so long his 15 year contract may be up soon. Dwayne Roloson has been great all year but if DiPietro could actually come back healthy…No, not going there, too far out on a limb.
News Item 2: Andre Dawson is voted into The Hall of Fame—good job by the voters. Robert Alomar is not—he should have been but will be next year. Bert Blyleven is not for the 13th straight year. I just don’t get it.
News Item 3: Mike Shanahan is introduced as the new Redskins coach. He deftly ducks questions about who will be in charge and does everything but kiss Dan Snyder on the lips during his press conference. Of course for $35 million most of us would kiss almost anyone on the lips.
News Item 4: Kansas comes from eight points down AT HOME to beat CORNELL. I was a little stunned at game’s end based on the way the fans were acting in Allen Field House that they didn’t storm the court.
News Item 5: The PGA Tour begins the 2010 season today on Maui. Hallelujah. It might be possible to talk about golf for at least a sentence or two without using the words Tiger Woods.
News Item 6: The Islanders come from behind in Colorado, then blow a lead but beat the Avalanche 3-2. They are now at .500. Okay, this may only be a news item to me but what the heck. I went to bed happy.
Now, to review.
Item one--I have no doubt that David Stern would have preferred to wait for the legal process to move further along (he is, after all, a lawyer) before taking action on Gilbert Arenas. But after Arenas’s idiotic behavior on Tuesday in Philadelphia, he had no choice but to act.
The photo of Arenas pretending to ‘shoot,’ his teammates with his fingers—while they all stood around laughing—may have been the most damning moment in this entire debacle. Arenas then made it worse (if possible) with his postgame comment that, if he felt as if he’d done anything wrong, then he’d apologize.
There are some guys in sports who need John McEnroe following them around repeatedly saying, “You cannot be serious!.” (Quick aside: Years ago I was in a hotel room with McEnroe after a match. Mary Carillo was also there as was a friend of McEnroe’s whose name I honestly can’t remember. Room service had been ordered and hadn’t shown up after 45 minutes. McEnroe finally told his friend to call and find out what the hell was going on. The friend picked up the phone and said to McEnroe, “do you want me to just ask what’s going on or, you know, give them the ‘You can NOT be serious,’ bit?’ McEnroe opted for the latter. The food showed up about five minutes later).
Once Stern saw the photo and the quote he had to get Arenas off the court right away. If he hadn’t, he would have looked foolish. Flip Saunders looked pretty bad not taking action right away in Philadelphia but Stern seems to be covering for the Wizards and their inaction by saying he had ordered them not to take action until he did.
My guess is Arenas doesn’t get it and isn’t going to get it. He still thinks his mistake in bringing guns into The Verizon Center was akin to forgetting to slow down in one of those camera speed traps—pay the 40 bucks and move on. It’s pretty clear his teammates haven’t gotten it yet either even though they tried to act as if they did in Cleveland Wednesday night. Still, you could hear them clinging to the, “when the truth comes out it won’t be so bad,” line.
Wrong. This is already really bad and, in all likelihood, the more truth that comes out the worse it is going to be for Arenas.
It’s truly a sad story because this was a guy who lit up a bleak sports skyline when he first came to Washington. And, as if so often the case, the reaction to the mistake has been at least as costly as the mistake itself. If Arenas had instantly thrown himself on the mercy of the court of public opinion and said, ‘My God, what was I thinking, I’m so sorry,” and NOT twittered jokes and NOT shrugged it off as no big deal and NOT still been playing it off as a joke the day after his lawyer released his clearly insincere apology, people would be saying by now, ‘hey, leave him alone, he made a mistake and he acknowledged it.’
Now, even the perpetual jock-defenders are shaking their heads and saying, ‘what was he thinking?’
We all know the answer to that question.
Item Two: I’m happy Andre Dawson made it to the Hall of Fame. In the years that I voted, I always put him on my ballot. (The Washington Post no longer allows writers to vote for Halls of Fame which I think is silly but, hey, they’re writing the checks and I’m cashing them so I don’t vote). He was a great two-way player for a long time, a superb base runner who had a long, productive career. I think his batting average (.279) held him back but all his other numbers were so good—including eight gold gloves—I thought he was deserving.
Alomar is a lock Hall of Famer. The only reason he came up just short this time (73.7 percent of the votes when 75 percent is needed) is because some voters are still punishing him for the 1996 John Hirschbeck spitting incident (Hirschbeck BTW has forgiven him and endorsed his candidacy) and because there are some guys who will not vote for a guy his first time on the ballot.
The second reason is a joke: You either are a Hall of Famer or are not a Hall of Famer. I had this argument with Bill Conlin, for whom I have great respect, when he didn’t vote for Nolan Ryan the first (and only) time he was on the ballot. I’ve always believed that if a voter leaves certain players off the ballot for any reason—like a Cal Ripken or a Tony Gwynn to give two recent examples—he should lose his vote for the next year. Seriously, who died and made any of us God?
The Hirschbeck incident is different. The ballot DOES say that a player’s actions as a person can be taken into account. Alomar—surprise—was initially unrepentant when the incident occurred in 1996. In fact, one of the sadder scenes I’ve ever seen was the first game of the playoffs that year when Oriole fans, normally among the best in baseball, booed the UMPIRES when they came on the field because Alomar was going to be suspended to begin the next season.
That was Alomar’s one truly bad moment and you don’t wipe out an entire career for that. (Steroids is another story entirely).
Blyleven is the mystery to me. He came up a little shy of 300 wins—287—but had some other great numbers, notably the fact that he pitched SIXTY shutouts. Just as one means of comparison, that’s more shutouts than Tom Glavine had complete games (57). Sure, different era, but not THAT different—Glavine was in the big leagues for several years before Blyleven retired.
I’m not picking on Tom—obviously—and he is and should be a lock Hall of Famer since he won 305 games. But sixty shutouts? Are you kidding? Blyleven pitched on a lot of bad teams but on good ones too. There are parts of his record you can nit-pick but overall? He should have been in years ago.
For the record, this isn’t personal at all. The couple of times I dealt with Blyleven as a player he wasn’t especially pleasant. I remember in 1992 when I was doing my first baseball book trying to set a time to talk to him when he was pitching for the Angels. I was in Anaheim for three days and asked if he could give me some time on any of those days since he had just pitched the day before. “I’ve done my media for the week,” he said. (He had done Roy Firestone’s show the day before).
So, I went instead to talk to Jim Abbott, who you may remember became a solid big league pitcher even though he was born without a right hand. “I’ll make you a deal,” Abbott said. “I’ll talk to you for as long as you want about whatever you want if you tell me everything you know about Steffi Graf.” (I’d just written ‘Hard Courts.’)
Jim Abbott is a Hall of Fame guy. Blyleven is a Hall of Fame pitcher.
Item three: Shanahan arrives. Building of monument begins. There’s not much to say about this except that everyone knows if Dan Snyder doesn’t get out of the way it won’t matter how good a coach Shanahan is. When Shanahan was asked who was in charge he answered the question as if the issue was whether he or Bruce Allen had final say. Good answer even though that wasn’t the question.
He also kept saying over and over that he had never met anyone who was more enthusiastic about the Washington Redskins than Dan Snyder. Wow, that’s out on a limb. It’s a little bit like saying you’ve never met anyone more enthusiastic about my books than me. Then he said Joe Gibbs had told him no one had been more supportive of him than Snyder. Last I looked Jack Kent Cooke gave Gibbs everything he could possibly want to help him win three Super Bowls AND chose him in a power struggle with Bobby Beathard—which was probably a mistake. Then again, Snyder did FINANCIALLY support Gibbs better than anyone ever did.
Oh, one more thing: Word today is that Jerry Gray may become the defensive coordinator. What a surprise, the guy Snyder used to get around The Rooney Rule, who stood there and stonewalled for three weeks not only keeps his job but gets promoted. So unlike Snyder.
Item 4—I wrote here last week that Cornell is really good. The Big Red came very close to becoming national darlings last night but couldn’t quite hold on against the No. 1 ranked team in the country. ESPN correctly switched to the late stages of the game from a desultory Duke-Iowa State game and I swear I thought I was watching Kansas-Texas the last five minutes based on the crowd reaction to the rally.
No doubt they were relieved at dodging what they thought would be an embarrassing loss. But really it wouldn’t have been that embarrassing: Cornell’s good. Of course now they will be everyone’s first round upset darling in March. That’s IF they can beat Harvard to win The Ivy League. And if you think the committee is giving the Ivy League an at-large bid you should apply for a job at The Fritz Pollard Alliance and oversee the Rooney Rule.
Item 5—I did my Golf Channel Essay this week on the start of the new season and the fact that it would be nice to be able to watch golf and talk about golf without Tiger coming up in every other sentence. I was trying to make the point that while Tiger is no doubt the face of the game to MANY, there are lots of us who liked golf before Tiger and will continue to like it without Tiger—however long that may be during his ‘leave of absence.’ I brought up the fact that when ‘A Good Walk Spoiled,’ reached number one on The New York Times bestseller list in 1995, the name Tiger Woods appeared once—for two sentences.
One of the better regular posters on the blog, Vince, accused me yesterday of being self-serving by bringing up the book. Maybe, but I honestly thought it tangibly made my point. He said if I’d written the book five or six years later with Tiger as a major character the book would have been on The Times list for three years instead of seven months. Again, maybe. But I’ve written golf books since then that featured Tiger and, while they’ve sold well, they didn’t outsell ‘A Good Walk Spoiled.’ And, for the record Vince, I was making fun of the 50 percent who only watch golf when Tiger’s playing when I said, “50 percent of us who watch golf do so with or without Tiger.”
Item 6—There was a Rick DiPietro spotting on the Islanders bench last night. He’s been out so long his 15 year contract may be up soon. Dwayne Roloson has been great all year but if DiPietro could actually come back healthy…No, not going there, too far out on a limb.
Comments (16)
Former Executive Director of the USGA, Frank Hannigan, sends email that rings true; Insider info on the media game
Thu, Dec 17 2009 10:07
| NFL, PGA Tour, Frank Hannigan, CNBC, Tiger Woods, MLB, Tennis
| Permalink
The life of Tiger Woods really has become an accident scene. On the one hand you want to avert your eyes, on the other hand you can’t stop staring. Having Doonesbury spend an entire week lampoon you pretty much means you have gone from being an iconic golfer to an iconic punch line.
I have an absolute case of Tiger-fatigue. And yet, as I sit here this morning I’m thinking, ‘how can I not write about him?’ Are readers going to be more interested in how thrilled I was last night when American University went to DePaul and won? Or do they want my thoughts on the Islanders beating the Rangers in Madison Square Garden and some of my memories of growing up as a kid in the blue seats at The Garden? (Section 406 was the ideal if you could tickets up there. In those days the cost was $4). I could write about the Halladay-Lee trade and just how good the Mariners might be next season with Cliff Lee and Felix Rodriguez at the top of their rotation two years after losing more than 100 games.
No. Like it or not the story on everyone’s minds is Tiger and, regardless of how Charles Barkley may feel, it isn’t going away.
The Doonesbury strip a couple of days ago in which Garry Trudeau had Tiger’s mistresses deciding to unionize was funny. A lot of what’s circulated on TV and on the internet is funny. Of course every time we laugh at this stuff we also pause to think about what Tiger has done to his wife and his kids and then it isn’t so funny.
Having said that, I got an e-mail last night from Frank Hannigan, who was once executive director of the USGA and, even though he is the world’s leading curmudgeon, is still one of the very smart voices out there on any subject but especially on golf.
Hannigan usually weighs in to list all the various crimes I have committed against journalism and golf and the fate of the world in general and this note was no different. As always, a lot of what he said rang true. He told me I should cool it with the notion that Tiger’s fall from grace is some kind of epic disaster for golf. He didn’t go the, “golf was around before Tiger and will be around after Tiger,” route (even though that’s true) but what he did say is that if golf’s revenues go down for a few years life will go on.
“So the 100th ranked guy on the money list makes $800,000 instead of $1,000,000 the next few years—so what?”—he wrote. He went on to say that while there was no doubt the “Tiger golf-fan,” might disappear in his absence or not be quite so enamored of him upon his return, the core golf fans would still be there and there are other guys out there who can play the game pretty well.
He’s right of course. Sure, it’s Tim Finchem’s job as commissioner to try to keep purses going up, sponsors happy and TV ratings high so that he can wheedle more money from the networks the next time the contracts are up. But let’s say none of that happens. So, purses go down and players are unhappy about that. What are they going to do, give up golf and go to law school? (That’s not a Hannigan line but it could be one). Some tournaments might go away and that would be too bad but the tour isn’t going to shut down.
As for the TV networks, well, Golf Channel’s deal runs for something like 11 more years and do you think CBS is going to give up The Masters because Tiger isn’t as beloved as he once was? (There’s a joke in there somewhere about Tiger’s life and ‘a tradition like no other,’ but I’ll pass on that).
Sports go through downturns. Baseball took a huge hit at the box office and in TV ratings after the strike of 1994 and 1995. It came back and flourished not long afterwards. When hockey shut down in 2005 people said and wrote it would never come back. It’s doing just fine—much better than pre-lockout as a matter of fact. Go back to the 1980s before Magic and Bird and no one—NO ONE—was watching the NBA. Even the all-powerful NFL has attendance problems these days. A story in today’s Washington Post reports that The Jacksonville Jaguars are down to 27,000 season ticketholders.
All those sports have survived crises, regardless of what caused them. Tennis is in crisis right now because it has been mismanaged for so many years and hasn’t had a real American star on the men’s side since Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi retired a few years back. In fact, going back to 1993 when I started researching, “A Good Walk Spoiled,” both my editor and my agent expressed some concern that the book might not sell that well because golf had no stars. Remember the term, “faceless clones?” That book, which mentioned Tiger Woods ONCE—a sentence about this teen-age phenom getting a sponsor’s exemption to play in Los Angeles—outsold, “A Season on the Brink.”
So, Hannigan—as usual—is right. If Tiger never plays again, golf will wobble but will be fine in the long run. If, as is far more likely, he comes back a tainted icon but still a great player, golf will take a hit, especially in the short term, but will be just fine when all is said and done.
Having said all that, I don’t know about all of you but I definitely have Tiger fatigue right now even though I know I can’t just say, ‘enough,’ because it is still the story everyone is talking about.
I said last week that I don’t mind radio and TVs calling because I’m flattered that they think what I have to say might matter. It is amusing when producers call and act as if they are the very first ones to come up with the idea of asking me to talk about Tiger. Even more amusing was an e-mail I got yesterday from a producer at CNBC. It began this way: “Hi John—I wanted to let you know about a great opportunity for you tomorrow…” The ‘great opportunity,’ was to go downtown to a studio and spend two or three minutes on-air after Finchem got through talking to the network.
I couldn’t resist. I wrote back and asked her exactly what this ‘great opportunity,’ was for me. She earnestly wrote back that I would be on CNBC’s, “highest-rated,” show and would have the chance to be the, “first person,” to comment on Finchem’s comments. I wonder if she actually believes this sort of stuff or just thinks people are dumb enough to believe it. Remarkably, I decided not to give up two hours of my day for this ‘great opportunity.’ To be fair, she isn’t the first TV person—and no doubt won’t be the last—who has tried to convince me how fortunate I would be to be on their air.
I apologize for the digression. It’s just that after all these years of dealing with TV people (not all but many) I am still amazed by them. I’m not a fool. I understand that TV exposure helps sell books and that a lot of people think being on TV is absolutely the coolest thing one can do in life. I STILL have people come up and tell me how much they love watching me on ‘The Sports Reporters,” (which was great fun to do, especially when Dick Schaap was still alive) even though I haven’t been on the show in almost three years.
We are now almost three weeks into “As The Tiger Turns,” and each day I find myself shaking my head at something new. Yesterday it was Tiger’s agent, Mark Steinberg, climbing out from under the rock he’s been hiding under since this began to put out a statement ripping The New York Times for saying that IMG was involved in setting up Tiger’s sessions with the Canadian doctor who apparently used HGH in treating people recovering from major injuries. The Times wrote the story after the guy was arrested at the Canadian/U.S. border carrying illegal performance-enhancing drugs. In the statement Steinberg took a swipe at all the media reporting on his client.
Steinberg needs to shut-up. Unless he wants to take a polygraph test and tell people what he knew and what he didn’t know and what he told Tiger to do and not do when all this started, he should climb back under that rock.
There’s quite a crowd hiding there right now. My guess is they will be there for a while. But, as Frank Hannigan points out, golf will still be played—without Tiger, with a tainted Tiger, whatever—but it will still be played.
I have an absolute case of Tiger-fatigue. And yet, as I sit here this morning I’m thinking, ‘how can I not write about him?’ Are readers going to be more interested in how thrilled I was last night when American University went to DePaul and won? Or do they want my thoughts on the Islanders beating the Rangers in Madison Square Garden and some of my memories of growing up as a kid in the blue seats at The Garden? (Section 406 was the ideal if you could tickets up there. In those days the cost was $4). I could write about the Halladay-Lee trade and just how good the Mariners might be next season with Cliff Lee and Felix Rodriguez at the top of their rotation two years after losing more than 100 games.
No. Like it or not the story on everyone’s minds is Tiger and, regardless of how Charles Barkley may feel, it isn’t going away.
The Doonesbury strip a couple of days ago in which Garry Trudeau had Tiger’s mistresses deciding to unionize was funny. A lot of what’s circulated on TV and on the internet is funny. Of course every time we laugh at this stuff we also pause to think about what Tiger has done to his wife and his kids and then it isn’t so funny.
Having said that, I got an e-mail last night from Frank Hannigan, who was once executive director of the USGA and, even though he is the world’s leading curmudgeon, is still one of the very smart voices out there on any subject but especially on golf.
Hannigan usually weighs in to list all the various crimes I have committed against journalism and golf and the fate of the world in general and this note was no different. As always, a lot of what he said rang true. He told me I should cool it with the notion that Tiger’s fall from grace is some kind of epic disaster for golf. He didn’t go the, “golf was around before Tiger and will be around after Tiger,” route (even though that’s true) but what he did say is that if golf’s revenues go down for a few years life will go on.
“So the 100th ranked guy on the money list makes $800,000 instead of $1,000,000 the next few years—so what?”—he wrote. He went on to say that while there was no doubt the “Tiger golf-fan,” might disappear in his absence or not be quite so enamored of him upon his return, the core golf fans would still be there and there are other guys out there who can play the game pretty well.
He’s right of course. Sure, it’s Tim Finchem’s job as commissioner to try to keep purses going up, sponsors happy and TV ratings high so that he can wheedle more money from the networks the next time the contracts are up. But let’s say none of that happens. So, purses go down and players are unhappy about that. What are they going to do, give up golf and go to law school? (That’s not a Hannigan line but it could be one). Some tournaments might go away and that would be too bad but the tour isn’t going to shut down.
As for the TV networks, well, Golf Channel’s deal runs for something like 11 more years and do you think CBS is going to give up The Masters because Tiger isn’t as beloved as he once was? (There’s a joke in there somewhere about Tiger’s life and ‘a tradition like no other,’ but I’ll pass on that).
Sports go through downturns. Baseball took a huge hit at the box office and in TV ratings after the strike of 1994 and 1995. It came back and flourished not long afterwards. When hockey shut down in 2005 people said and wrote it would never come back. It’s doing just fine—much better than pre-lockout as a matter of fact. Go back to the 1980s before Magic and Bird and no one—NO ONE—was watching the NBA. Even the all-powerful NFL has attendance problems these days. A story in today’s Washington Post reports that The Jacksonville Jaguars are down to 27,000 season ticketholders.
All those sports have survived crises, regardless of what caused them. Tennis is in crisis right now because it has been mismanaged for so many years and hasn’t had a real American star on the men’s side since Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi retired a few years back. In fact, going back to 1993 when I started researching, “A Good Walk Spoiled,” both my editor and my agent expressed some concern that the book might not sell that well because golf had no stars. Remember the term, “faceless clones?” That book, which mentioned Tiger Woods ONCE—a sentence about this teen-age phenom getting a sponsor’s exemption to play in Los Angeles—outsold, “A Season on the Brink.”
So, Hannigan—as usual—is right. If Tiger never plays again, golf will wobble but will be fine in the long run. If, as is far more likely, he comes back a tainted icon but still a great player, golf will take a hit, especially in the short term, but will be just fine when all is said and done.
Having said all that, I don’t know about all of you but I definitely have Tiger fatigue right now even though I know I can’t just say, ‘enough,’ because it is still the story everyone is talking about.
I said last week that I don’t mind radio and TVs calling because I’m flattered that they think what I have to say might matter. It is amusing when producers call and act as if they are the very first ones to come up with the idea of asking me to talk about Tiger. Even more amusing was an e-mail I got yesterday from a producer at CNBC. It began this way: “Hi John—I wanted to let you know about a great opportunity for you tomorrow…” The ‘great opportunity,’ was to go downtown to a studio and spend two or three minutes on-air after Finchem got through talking to the network.
I couldn’t resist. I wrote back and asked her exactly what this ‘great opportunity,’ was for me. She earnestly wrote back that I would be on CNBC’s, “highest-rated,” show and would have the chance to be the, “first person,” to comment on Finchem’s comments. I wonder if she actually believes this sort of stuff or just thinks people are dumb enough to believe it. Remarkably, I decided not to give up two hours of my day for this ‘great opportunity.’ To be fair, she isn’t the first TV person—and no doubt won’t be the last—who has tried to convince me how fortunate I would be to be on their air.
I apologize for the digression. It’s just that after all these years of dealing with TV people (not all but many) I am still amazed by them. I’m not a fool. I understand that TV exposure helps sell books and that a lot of people think being on TV is absolutely the coolest thing one can do in life. I STILL have people come up and tell me how much they love watching me on ‘The Sports Reporters,” (which was great fun to do, especially when Dick Schaap was still alive) even though I haven’t been on the show in almost three years.
We are now almost three weeks into “As The Tiger Turns,” and each day I find myself shaking my head at something new. Yesterday it was Tiger’s agent, Mark Steinberg, climbing out from under the rock he’s been hiding under since this began to put out a statement ripping The New York Times for saying that IMG was involved in setting up Tiger’s sessions with the Canadian doctor who apparently used HGH in treating people recovering from major injuries. The Times wrote the story after the guy was arrested at the Canadian/U.S. border carrying illegal performance-enhancing drugs. In the statement Steinberg took a swipe at all the media reporting on his client.
Steinberg needs to shut-up. Unless he wants to take a polygraph test and tell people what he knew and what he didn’t know and what he told Tiger to do and not do when all this started, he should climb back under that rock.
There’s quite a crowd hiding there right now. My guess is they will be there for a while. But, as Frank Hannigan points out, golf will still be played—without Tiger, with a tainted Tiger, whatever—but it will still be played.
Comments (7)
It’s December, and real baseball news reminds me spring is around the corner; Request - smart questions for Bill Hancock
Wed, Dec 9 2009 09:00
| Peter Gammons, college basketball, MLB, Bill Hancock
| Permalink
It snowed here in Washington this past weekend. This morning it was cold and rainy when I woke up and, even yesterday when the temperature warmed into the 50s at midday the sun was long gone by 5 o’clock.
That’s why they call it December. Of course it won’t even officially be winter for 12 more days. After that, ever so slowly the days will start to get warmer.
No, I haven’t decided my future is as a weather blogger.
It’s funny what happens to me this time of year when I go out in the lousy weather, especially in the morning when I walk down the driveway to pick up the newspapers. I think about baseball a lot. I don’t really care about all the rumors that get thrown out that, if you believe them, Roy Halladay would have been traded 47 times since last July. When Halladay is actually traded, tell me and I’ll be interested. But the real news—trades, free agent signings, radio and TV guys changing jobs even—I love to soak up.
It isn’t that I don’t love college basketball season. I do and I really enjoy walking into a hot gym brimming with noise and anticipation prior to a game on a cold night. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that I get a bigger kick out of games like George Mason-George Washington or Navy-Penn than the big time games. The other day Dick Vitale called me about something I’d written a while ago on the blog and he said to me, “I just don’t see you at games very much anymore.”
He’s right. It isn’t that I don’t go to ACC games or Big East games—I do. To be honest, part of it is that I’m just too damn spoiled after all these years to sit in the end zone at Maryland or Georgetown or someplace upstairs at Virginia. A lot of the big time schools—most in fact—have moved the media off press row in order to put in “Spike Lee,” seats and put some more cash into their pockets. I don’t question their right to do it, I simply don’t enjoy it. As I said, I’m spoiled. Plus, I just get a kick out of seeing teams battle who don’t think of the NBA or playing on national TV as a birthright. It’s just more fun—at least for me.
But even though I love college basketball season and tracking the teams in the non-major conferences closely to see who has a chance to play postseason, I still find myself regularly counting the days until spring training.
It isn’t as if I’m one of those baseball guys who heads to Florida or Arizona on February 15th and rents a condo for six weeks. I did do most of six weeks in Florida—with two trips to Arizona thrown in—back in 1992 when I wrote “Play Ball,” my first baseball book. It was fun, but I was also shuttling north for basketball and to get home a couple times. It was also before I had kids.
Nowadays, I usually spend one week in Florida and make it what I call a combo trip. Last year, for example, I stopped in Gainesville to see a Tennessee-Florida basketball game, spent three days at The Honda Classic in Palm Beach and threw in three baseball games before I had to go home to do a basketball tripleheader: Patriot League semifinal in Washington, then a fast trip to Richmond for The CAA semifinals that night.
You see, my life doesn’t suck.
This morning I picked up the paper and read with interest that the Yankees had given up three highly-rated prospects to get Curtis Granderson. Because I like Jim Leyland and Dave Dombrowski and—like a lot of people—have a warm spot in my heart for Detroit, I really hope some of the five prospects the Tigers got in the three team (Diamondbacks) deal pan out. The best baseball story of 2009, with due respect to the eight playoff teams, was the Tigers return to contention at a time when the city so desperately needed something to feel good about.
The best baseball line of the year as reported by (I think) Lee Jenkins in Sports Illustrated was what Leyland said to his players in spring training: “Fellas, this is not the year to not run out a ground ball.”
Here in Washington there was another big winter meetings story: The Nationals signing Pudge Rodriguez. A lot of baseball people questioned it because Rodriguez is 38 and has slowed down a LOT since the years when he earned his place in the Hall of Fame. The Nationals, not exactly big spenders on the free agent market most of the time, coughed up $6 million in a two-year contract for Rodriguez. The standard thinking in baseball is that he could have been had—should have been had—for one year.
One of the critics was radio analyst Jim Bowden who called it “another bad signing by the Nationals,” citing the bad signings of Dmitri Young and Paul LoDuca as examples. The irony of that comment being that Bowden was the one who made those two signings when he was the Nats GM.
I think signing Rodriguez was close to brilliant. His on-field numbers can’t begin to tell the full story of his potential value to the team. The Nationals have a 25-year-old catcher named Jesus Flores who, if he can ever stay healthy, has a world of potential. Flores is really smart and will no doubt learn every single day he’s around Rodriguez. Plus, the Nationals have nothing but young starting pitchers, including No. 1 draft pick Stephen Strasburg and who better to nurture them than a guy who has 13 Gold Gloves?
Great move as far as I’m concerned even if the Nats overspent. Did the Yankees overspend on Mark Texeira and CC Sabathia last winter? The Nats can afford to gamble $6 million, I think.
The other news that caught my eye was that Peter Gammons is leaving ESPN to join the MLB network. I think this is a big deal but it may just be because I’ve admired and liked Gammons for so long. He was one of the first true reporters to make the fulltime jump to TV and he brought real resonance to ESPN’s baseball coverage. Tim Kurkijian and Buster Olney are the real deal as reporters too but both would tell you they learned from Gammons—as did we all. Without Gammons, ESPN is a step closer to being just a bunch of ex-players reading off teleprompters and telling us the obvious. Obviously this is a coup for MLB TV.
Right now as I sit here looking outside at a slate gray sky, it is 68 days until pitchers and catchers report; 82 days until exhibition games begin and 84 days until my planned Florida trip. I’m actually fired up.
You see, as you get older it is funny the memories that stick with you. Three years ago, I had to drive to Bucknell on a Saturday for a first weekend in March basketball game. It was a noon game, so I was in the car heading home by about 2:30 and as I fiddled with the radio I picked up an Orioles-Mets exhibition game. I remember steaming down Rte. 15 in Pennsylvania as David Wright hit one out against an Orioles prospect named Hayden Penn.
I have no idea why I remember that moment but when I do, thinking about the snowy road, the stop for coffee in Harrisburg at Dunkin’ Donuts (okay, I may have had a donut too) and seeing in my mind’s eye Wright’s shot carrying out of the ballpark in Port St. Lucie, I smile.
Even now, with all that’s gone on in the game through the years, baseball makes me smile. Even in December.
------------------------------------
Several people asked yesterday about sending me questions to ask Bill Hancock from The BCS on Friday at dinner. I have warned Bill that I may be coming armed with questions from college football fans. So, ask away and I’ll see what Bill comes up with on Friday night. For the record, he doesn’t drink wine. He drinks beer—with ice. Which may explain a lot.
That’s why they call it December. Of course it won’t even officially be winter for 12 more days. After that, ever so slowly the days will start to get warmer.
No, I haven’t decided my future is as a weather blogger.
It’s funny what happens to me this time of year when I go out in the lousy weather, especially in the morning when I walk down the driveway to pick up the newspapers. I think about baseball a lot. I don’t really care about all the rumors that get thrown out that, if you believe them, Roy Halladay would have been traded 47 times since last July. When Halladay is actually traded, tell me and I’ll be interested. But the real news—trades, free agent signings, radio and TV guys changing jobs even—I love to soak up.
It isn’t that I don’t love college basketball season. I do and I really enjoy walking into a hot gym brimming with noise and anticipation prior to a game on a cold night. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that I get a bigger kick out of games like George Mason-George Washington or Navy-Penn than the big time games. The other day Dick Vitale called me about something I’d written a while ago on the blog and he said to me, “I just don’t see you at games very much anymore.”
He’s right. It isn’t that I don’t go to ACC games or Big East games—I do. To be honest, part of it is that I’m just too damn spoiled after all these years to sit in the end zone at Maryland or Georgetown or someplace upstairs at Virginia. A lot of the big time schools—most in fact—have moved the media off press row in order to put in “Spike Lee,” seats and put some more cash into their pockets. I don’t question their right to do it, I simply don’t enjoy it. As I said, I’m spoiled. Plus, I just get a kick out of seeing teams battle who don’t think of the NBA or playing on national TV as a birthright. It’s just more fun—at least for me.
But even though I love college basketball season and tracking the teams in the non-major conferences closely to see who has a chance to play postseason, I still find myself regularly counting the days until spring training.
It isn’t as if I’m one of those baseball guys who heads to Florida or Arizona on February 15th and rents a condo for six weeks. I did do most of six weeks in Florida—with two trips to Arizona thrown in—back in 1992 when I wrote “Play Ball,” my first baseball book. It was fun, but I was also shuttling north for basketball and to get home a couple times. It was also before I had kids.
Nowadays, I usually spend one week in Florida and make it what I call a combo trip. Last year, for example, I stopped in Gainesville to see a Tennessee-Florida basketball game, spent three days at The Honda Classic in Palm Beach and threw in three baseball games before I had to go home to do a basketball tripleheader: Patriot League semifinal in Washington, then a fast trip to Richmond for The CAA semifinals that night.
You see, my life doesn’t suck.
This morning I picked up the paper and read with interest that the Yankees had given up three highly-rated prospects to get Curtis Granderson. Because I like Jim Leyland and Dave Dombrowski and—like a lot of people—have a warm spot in my heart for Detroit, I really hope some of the five prospects the Tigers got in the three team (Diamondbacks) deal pan out. The best baseball story of 2009, with due respect to the eight playoff teams, was the Tigers return to contention at a time when the city so desperately needed something to feel good about.
The best baseball line of the year as reported by (I think) Lee Jenkins in Sports Illustrated was what Leyland said to his players in spring training: “Fellas, this is not the year to not run out a ground ball.”
Here in Washington there was another big winter meetings story: The Nationals signing Pudge Rodriguez. A lot of baseball people questioned it because Rodriguez is 38 and has slowed down a LOT since the years when he earned his place in the Hall of Fame. The Nationals, not exactly big spenders on the free agent market most of the time, coughed up $6 million in a two-year contract for Rodriguez. The standard thinking in baseball is that he could have been had—should have been had—for one year.
One of the critics was radio analyst Jim Bowden who called it “another bad signing by the Nationals,” citing the bad signings of Dmitri Young and Paul LoDuca as examples. The irony of that comment being that Bowden was the one who made those two signings when he was the Nats GM.
I think signing Rodriguez was close to brilliant. His on-field numbers can’t begin to tell the full story of his potential value to the team. The Nationals have a 25-year-old catcher named Jesus Flores who, if he can ever stay healthy, has a world of potential. Flores is really smart and will no doubt learn every single day he’s around Rodriguez. Plus, the Nationals have nothing but young starting pitchers, including No. 1 draft pick Stephen Strasburg and who better to nurture them than a guy who has 13 Gold Gloves?
Great move as far as I’m concerned even if the Nats overspent. Did the Yankees overspend on Mark Texeira and CC Sabathia last winter? The Nats can afford to gamble $6 million, I think.
The other news that caught my eye was that Peter Gammons is leaving ESPN to join the MLB network. I think this is a big deal but it may just be because I’ve admired and liked Gammons for so long. He was one of the first true reporters to make the fulltime jump to TV and he brought real resonance to ESPN’s baseball coverage. Tim Kurkijian and Buster Olney are the real deal as reporters too but both would tell you they learned from Gammons—as did we all. Without Gammons, ESPN is a step closer to being just a bunch of ex-players reading off teleprompters and telling us the obvious. Obviously this is a coup for MLB TV.
Right now as I sit here looking outside at a slate gray sky, it is 68 days until pitchers and catchers report; 82 days until exhibition games begin and 84 days until my planned Florida trip. I’m actually fired up.
You see, as you get older it is funny the memories that stick with you. Three years ago, I had to drive to Bucknell on a Saturday for a first weekend in March basketball game. It was a noon game, so I was in the car heading home by about 2:30 and as I fiddled with the radio I picked up an Orioles-Mets exhibition game. I remember steaming down Rte. 15 in Pennsylvania as David Wright hit one out against an Orioles prospect named Hayden Penn.
I have no idea why I remember that moment but when I do, thinking about the snowy road, the stop for coffee in Harrisburg at Dunkin’ Donuts (okay, I may have had a donut too) and seeing in my mind’s eye Wright’s shot carrying out of the ballpark in Port St. Lucie, I smile.
Even now, with all that’s gone on in the game through the years, baseball makes me smile. Even in December.
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Several people asked yesterday about sending me questions to ask Bill Hancock from The BCS on Friday at dinner. I have warned Bill that I may be coming armed with questions from college football fans. So, ask away and I’ll see what Bill comes up with on Friday night. For the record, he doesn’t drink wine. He drinks beer—with ice. Which may explain a lot.
Comments (12)
Updated II -- This Week's Radio Segments (The Sports Reporters, Tony Kornheiser Show, The Gas Man):
Wed, Nov 11 2009 06:18
| Sports Radio, MLB, BCS
| Permalink
I made my regular appearance on 'The Sports Reporters' with Steve Czaban and Andy Pollin in the normal timeslot (5:25 ET on Wednesday's) this evening. Click the permalink, then the link below, to listen to the segment on a topics including the Military Academies on this Veterans Day, the Washington Nationals and quick talk on the Pac 10's Larry Scott.
Click here to listen to Wednesday afternoon's segment: The Sports Reporters
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On Thursday morning in my regular spot (11:05am Thursday's), I joined Tony Kornheiser on his radio show. We talked about last nights theater, coach/manager salaries and I admit a change in my thinking on Navy vs. Notre Dame match-ups.
Click here to listen to the segment (I'm on the beginning of the podcast): The Tony Kornheiser Show
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Now that the NFL season has Thursday night football, my visit with The Gasman is moving to Wednesday's at 5:25 PT. So, here is the first segment in the new, late season Wed night slot -- we talked about the upcoming NFL and Players Association period of negotiation, and discussed the Navy-ND upset.
Click here to listen to the segment: The Gas Man
Click here to listen to Wednesday afternoon's segment: The Sports Reporters
-------------
On Thursday morning in my regular spot (11:05am Thursday's), I joined Tony Kornheiser on his radio show. We talked about last nights theater, coach/manager salaries and I admit a change in my thinking on Navy vs. Notre Dame match-ups.
Click here to listen to the segment (I'm on the beginning of the podcast): The Tony Kornheiser Show
--------------
Now that the NFL season has Thursday night football, my visit with The Gasman is moving to Wednesday's at 5:25 PT. So, here is the first segment in the new, late season Wed night slot -- we talked about the upcoming NFL and Players Association period of negotiation, and discussed the Navy-ND upset.
Click here to listen to the segment: The Gas Man
Comments (1)
All’s Well in Yankeeland – Rivera is Difference Again; Great Answers Yesterday
Thu, Nov 5 2009 08:39
| World Series, MLB, Yankees
| Permalink
And so, all is well in Yankeeland again. At least for a couple weeks.
There’s no doubting that the Yankees deserved their World Series win over the Phillies. They got a gutty performance from Andy Pettitte, whose postseason pitching may someday be the reason he gets into the Hall of Fame—although the steroids admissions two years ago may be the reason he DOESN’T get in the Hall.
They got Derek Jeter play from Derek Jeter, a remarkable performance from Hidecki Matsui and just enough from Mark Texeira and Alex Rodriguez to be champions for the first time in nine years.
In the end though, the difference was Mariano Rivera. It isn’t as if he’s been completely infallible as a postseason pitcher—he gave up the home run to Sandy Alomar in 1997 and the two runs in the ninth inning in Arizona in 2001—but all that does is prove he’s human. Sort of human anyway. What Rivera does for the Yankees is something no closer of this era has done: he makes the game seven innings for the both teams.
Everyone knows that if the game gets to the eighth inning with the Yankees in front, Rivera’s coming in and the odds are that’s it, he’s going to do what needs to be done and the Yankees will win the game. He now has FORTY saves in postseason. Think about that number. That’s a very good SEASON for a closer in saves in the games that matter the most.
What’s truly funny is to think back two years to when Joba Chamberlain first came up at mid-season. He was throwing 98—back then he actually threw strikes on a consistent basis—and within two weeks he’d become a cult figure in New York. There were actually people saying it was time to ease Rivera out of the closer’s role (he’s had his annual run of a couple bad outings about then) and give the ball to Chamberlain.
I know I bring up “Living on the Black,” a lot when writing about baseball but, if nothing else, Mike Mussina and Tom Glavine were two of the really smart guys I’ve met along the way in sports. I remember Mussina talking about the notion of replacing Rivera with Chamberlain.
“People really make me laugh sometimes,” he said. “They just cannot understand what Mo does or how he does it and what it means to a team to look out at the bullpen and know he’s the guy coming in to finish off a game. Heck, he’s worth a few outs before he gets in there because guys are squeezing the bats knowing if they don’t get runs before he gets in the game’s over. Joba’s a great talent but we’ve all seen great talents come up in this game. You don’t even think about replacing Mariano Rivera until HE tells you it might be time.” He smiled. “And then you try to talk him out of it.”
Think about this too: The Yankees had three absolute lock Hall of Famers on the field last night: Rivera, Jeter and Rodriguez—whose bases loaded strike out in the third would have overshadowed everything else he’s done in postseason had Matsui not picked him up and had the Yankees not gone on to win. Pettitte will be a very credible Hall of Fame possibility at some point and the Yankees have younger players like Texeira and CC Sabathia who may get to that level. Point being: they’re really good.
Of course the Phillies started a probably Hall of Famer last night too in Pedro Martinez. But it was clear from the start that he didn’t have it and it’s almost surprising it took the Yankees as long as it did to get to him. In fact, he did a good job of keeping the game competitive. Philadelphia
The first question that’s going to come up is what the Yankees will do with Matsui. The consensus all year was that this was his sayonara tour in New York
I don’t know about you, but I always feel a certain melancholy the day after The World Series ends. It doesn’t matter who wins, I know there’s no baseball of any kind for four months and no real baseball for five months—even when the Series ends in November. I’m one of those people who always has the number of days until pitchers and catchers report (I also make it February 15th since it’s never more than a day or two off that each year). So, this morning as I read the paper I did the math: 102 days until pitchers and catchers report. Another two weeks until the exhibition season begins. And, if all goes well, I’ll get home from The Masters on April 12th and go to a ballgame the next day. And you wonder why people think I’m nuts.
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I really enjoyed some of the posts and e-mails yesterday about favorite TV shows. Some of my favorites beyond ‘West Wing,’ came up—including ‘Hill Street Blues,’; ‘Mash,’; WKRP in Cincinnati’ (where have you gone Bailey Quarters?) and ‘Seinfeld.’ Worth noting by the way that ‘The Wire,’ was written by a former newspaper guy. Some of those people DO have talent.
As I was reading the posts, I thought about another show I loved: “The Odd Couple,” with Tony Randall and Jack Klugman. It had the greatest ending of any show ever (Newhart was a strong second). Felix gets re-married to Gloria and the wedding is in the apartment. As Felix is leaving he and Oscar share a handshake and a sincere thanks. Felix points his finger and says, “You know what I’m going to do JUST for you?”—and he walks over and dumps a garbage can on the rug.
Oscar looks at him and says, ‘you know what buddy, just for you, I’M going to clean that up.”
Another warm handshake. Felix leaves. Oscar turns to look at the garbage for a moment, then waves his hand and says, “I’m not cleaning it up,” and leaves the room.
Great ending you think. About 10 seconds go by. Finally, the door opens. It’s Felix. He looks at the garbage and says, “I KNEW he wouldn’t clean it up.” He cleans it up. Truly fall down funny great ending.
Let’s hear what your favorite TV ending was.
Comments (16)
Alex Rodriguez Close to Having Sins Wiped Away; Wikipedia Issues
Mon, Nov 2 2009 09:01
| Duke, Derek Jeter, MLB, Yankees, Alex Rodriguez, Mike Mussina
| Permalink
I actually feel good for Alex Rodriguez this morning. I think.
He really is one of the more confusing figures to come along during my lifetime. On the one hand, he’s an absolutely brilliant player who has had some breathstreaking streaks and seasons. On the other hand he got caught cheating this past spring and then hid behind partial truths—blaming a cousin at one point for helping him acquire steroids, then claiming he didn’t really know what he was taking—and a refusal to answer direct questions.
He’s had some terrible postseasons and his off-field judgment has, at times, been really, really bad. Forget being seen in clubs with other women while he was still married, the announcement he was opting out of his Yankees contract during game four of The World Series in 2007 was absolutely brutal. If he wants to blame that one on Scott Boras—fine. Who hired Boras?
That said, he probably hasn’t done anything to deserve being pilloried the way he’s been pilloried by some although that comes with the territory in New York. No one is ever good in New York. You are either “absolutely great,”—a favorite saying of Yankees broadcaster John Sterling—or you absolutely suck—a favorite saying of anyone who has lived in New York for more than 15 minutes.
If the Yankees win one more game this season, many, if not most of Rodriguez’s sins will be forgiven in New York because he will have played a key role in delivering a World Series title. You will see the word redemption linked with his name a lot. Don’t be surprised if there isn’t a book next spring and the word redemption appears in the title.
The smartest description I’ve ever heard of Rodriguez came from Mike Mussina during the time I spent with him in 2007 researching, “Living on the Black.” Mussina was never one to pull a punch when you asked him a question and when I first asked him about Rodriguez, sitting in the living room of his home in Tampa during spring training, he smiled.
“Try to imagine this,” he said. “You’ve been told, with a good deal of justification, that you are the best baseball player of your era that, in fact, you might end up being the best baseball player of all time. Then you come to New York and you’re told this: ‘You might be the best player in the game today but you’re no Derek Jeter.’ No matter what he does he’s always going to be in Jete’s shadow. He can’t escape it. If he wins a World Series, Derek will have five. If he wins four, Derek will have eight. He’s like a little brother trying to be as old as his big brother. It isn’t going to happen.”
Think about that. Rodriguez’s ego is as big as it gets. I remember watching him in the Yankee clubhouse during that ’07 season and you could almost read the pain on his face when the media would surround Jeter and gobble up every word he said. Jeter is the kid everyone wants to be—and Rodriguez can hit 1,000 home runs and what Mussina says will always be true.
When Mussina talked about Rodriguez he always called him, ‘Rod.’ Never ‘A-Rod,’ and rarely Alex; almost always ‘Rod.’ One day, sitting in the dugout I asked Rodriguez if anyone else on the team called him, ‘Rod.’ He shook his head, smiled and said, “No, Moose is the only one. I think it’s because he knows I’m the only guy on the team who likes him.”
Mussina was as well-liked and respected as anyone in the clubhouse short of Jeter and perhaps Mariano Rivera. When I ran that line past him he shook his head and said, “Do you think it might be the other way around?”
I suspected he had that right although if the Yankees end up dumping champagne on one another either tonight or by the end of the week, we will be told by one and all how much all the Yankees love ‘Rod,’ and vice-versa.
One other thought on Rodriguez that has very little to do with him directly: Am I the only one who finds Sterling’s, “it’s an A-bomb by A-Rod,” home run call offensive? I really don’t mind all of his little sayings for home runs, its shtick, he knows it and most Yankee fans enjoy it. I wasn’t alive when the A-bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki but I know the damage they did. I’ve also lived through all the fear that has gone hand-in-hand with the spread of nuclear arms and remember what the cold war was like.
Maybe I’m overreacting but I have to say I wince every time I hear that call. A ‘Tex message,” never killed anyone. A-bombs did.
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The other night my son showed me my ‘Wikipedia.’ I have steered clear of looking at it ever since I first looked it up whenever it came into vogue a few years ago. I honestly don’t know who writes them and I gave up long ago on the notion I was ever going to get mine to focus on the fact that I’ve written 25 books—not the 23 they report—or that several of them are, well, pretty well known and were huge best-sellers. I’ve also never HEARD of The Chapin Report which I write for according to Wikipedia.
It DOES annoy me that the first sentence of my bio claims I’m best known for being wrong on the Duke lacrosse case. I’m not even going to go through that mine field again but I really don’t think I was wrong when I first said the kids should lose their scholarships if they didn’t cooperate with police (which they initially refused to do); then wondered how Mike Nifong could keep the case alive after all the DNA tests came back negative (he ended up being disbarred) and said when it was all over I thought they were probably guilty of everything but rape—as in stupidity, being out of control at parties long before the fateful night, shouting racial epithets that night and sending out hateful e-mails. Okay, I got into it and I know some of the pro-Duke folks out there will want to open the debate again: I don’t. It’s over, the players received millions of dollars in judgments (which they deserved) and so did Coach Mike Pressler who was the real martyr in the case.
It also says I was the subject of major controversy when I called for the abolition of the second amendment after Plaxico Burress shot himself. Major controversy? Lots of people disagreed with me, so what? Happens all the time and that wasn't the first time--by any stretch--I called for the abolition of the amendment, knowing full well it will never happen. THAT was a big moment in my career? I wouldn't put it in the top 100 to be honest.
What got me the other night and the reason my son showed it to me was an update that included my heart surgery. Whomever wrote it, quoted from my post-surgery appearance with my pal Mike Gastineau on KJR in Seattle. According to what was posted I “claimed,” to be a-symptomatic, and “claimed,” to have had an angiogram done because of one small black spot detected on a stress test.
Why the hell would I “claim,” any of that?
Here’s what’s most disturbing. My son said, “don’t worry dad, I can fix it.” Sure enough, an hour later, he had fixed it. What that tells me is that just about anyone can hack into the Wikipedia system. My ‘claim,’ would be that anyone using it as a research tool ought to be very careful.
By the way, kudos to Coach David Cutcliffe for winning five games in a season at Duke for the first time since 1994. It really doesn’t matter that the bottom of the ACC is awful this season, that’s real progress for a school that was a complete joke for most of the last 15 years. One warning for you Dukies who think the team is one game from being bowl eligible: It’s not so.
Because some genius in the athletic department decided to schedule North Carolina Central this year (not sure who made that call) before NCCU is officially a Division 1-AA team, that win doesn’t count towards bowl eligibility. Duke will have to win seven to play postseason.
He really is one of the more confusing figures to come along during my lifetime. On the one hand, he’s an absolutely brilliant player who has had some breathstreaking streaks and seasons. On the other hand he got caught cheating this past spring and then hid behind partial truths—blaming a cousin at one point for helping him acquire steroids, then claiming he didn’t really know what he was taking—and a refusal to answer direct questions.
He’s had some terrible postseasons and his off-field judgment has, at times, been really, really bad. Forget being seen in clubs with other women while he was still married, the announcement he was opting out of his Yankees contract during game four of The World Series in 2007 was absolutely brutal. If he wants to blame that one on Scott Boras—fine. Who hired Boras?
That said, he probably hasn’t done anything to deserve being pilloried the way he’s been pilloried by some although that comes with the territory in New York. No one is ever good in New York. You are either “absolutely great,”—a favorite saying of Yankees broadcaster John Sterling—or you absolutely suck—a favorite saying of anyone who has lived in New York for more than 15 minutes.
If the Yankees win one more game this season, many, if not most of Rodriguez’s sins will be forgiven in New York because he will have played a key role in delivering a World Series title. You will see the word redemption linked with his name a lot. Don’t be surprised if there isn’t a book next spring and the word redemption appears in the title.
The smartest description I’ve ever heard of Rodriguez came from Mike Mussina during the time I spent with him in 2007 researching, “Living on the Black.” Mussina was never one to pull a punch when you asked him a question and when I first asked him about Rodriguez, sitting in the living room of his home in Tampa during spring training, he smiled.
“Try to imagine this,” he said. “You’ve been told, with a good deal of justification, that you are the best baseball player of your era that, in fact, you might end up being the best baseball player of all time. Then you come to New York and you’re told this: ‘You might be the best player in the game today but you’re no Derek Jeter.’ No matter what he does he’s always going to be in Jete’s shadow. He can’t escape it. If he wins a World Series, Derek will have five. If he wins four, Derek will have eight. He’s like a little brother trying to be as old as his big brother. It isn’t going to happen.”
Think about that. Rodriguez’s ego is as big as it gets. I remember watching him in the Yankee clubhouse during that ’07 season and you could almost read the pain on his face when the media would surround Jeter and gobble up every word he said. Jeter is the kid everyone wants to be—and Rodriguez can hit 1,000 home runs and what Mussina says will always be true.
When Mussina talked about Rodriguez he always called him, ‘Rod.’ Never ‘A-Rod,’ and rarely Alex; almost always ‘Rod.’ One day, sitting in the dugout I asked Rodriguez if anyone else on the team called him, ‘Rod.’ He shook his head, smiled and said, “No, Moose is the only one. I think it’s because he knows I’m the only guy on the team who likes him.”
Mussina was as well-liked and respected as anyone in the clubhouse short of Jeter and perhaps Mariano Rivera. When I ran that line past him he shook his head and said, “Do you think it might be the other way around?”
I suspected he had that right although if the Yankees end up dumping champagne on one another either tonight or by the end of the week, we will be told by one and all how much all the Yankees love ‘Rod,’ and vice-versa.
One other thought on Rodriguez that has very little to do with him directly: Am I the only one who finds Sterling’s, “it’s an A-bomb by A-Rod,” home run call offensive? I really don’t mind all of his little sayings for home runs, its shtick, he knows it and most Yankee fans enjoy it. I wasn’t alive when the A-bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki but I know the damage they did. I’ve also lived through all the fear that has gone hand-in-hand with the spread of nuclear arms and remember what the cold war was like.
Maybe I’m overreacting but I have to say I wince every time I hear that call. A ‘Tex message,” never killed anyone. A-bombs did.
--------------------------------------------------------
The other night my son showed me my ‘Wikipedia.’ I have steered clear of looking at it ever since I first looked it up whenever it came into vogue a few years ago. I honestly don’t know who writes them and I gave up long ago on the notion I was ever going to get mine to focus on the fact that I’ve written 25 books—not the 23 they report—or that several of them are, well, pretty well known and were huge best-sellers. I’ve also never HEARD of The Chapin Report which I write for according to Wikipedia.
It DOES annoy me that the first sentence of my bio claims I’m best known for being wrong on the Duke lacrosse case. I’m not even going to go through that mine field again but I really don’t think I was wrong when I first said the kids should lose their scholarships if they didn’t cooperate with police (which they initially refused to do); then wondered how Mike Nifong could keep the case alive after all the DNA tests came back negative (he ended up being disbarred) and said when it was all over I thought they were probably guilty of everything but rape—as in stupidity, being out of control at parties long before the fateful night, shouting racial epithets that night and sending out hateful e-mails. Okay, I got into it and I know some of the pro-Duke folks out there will want to open the debate again: I don’t. It’s over, the players received millions of dollars in judgments (which they deserved) and so did Coach Mike Pressler who was the real martyr in the case.
It also says I was the subject of major controversy when I called for the abolition of the second amendment after Plaxico Burress shot himself. Major controversy? Lots of people disagreed with me, so what? Happens all the time and that wasn't the first time--by any stretch--I called for the abolition of the amendment, knowing full well it will never happen. THAT was a big moment in my career? I wouldn't put it in the top 100 to be honest.
What got me the other night and the reason my son showed it to me was an update that included my heart surgery. Whomever wrote it, quoted from my post-surgery appearance with my pal Mike Gastineau on KJR in Seattle. According to what was posted I “claimed,” to be a-symptomatic, and “claimed,” to have had an angiogram done because of one small black spot detected on a stress test.
Why the hell would I “claim,” any of that?
Here’s what’s most disturbing. My son said, “don’t worry dad, I can fix it.” Sure enough, an hour later, he had fixed it. What that tells me is that just about anyone can hack into the Wikipedia system. My ‘claim,’ would be that anyone using it as a research tool ought to be very careful.
By the way, kudos to Coach David Cutcliffe for winning five games in a season at Duke for the first time since 1994. It really doesn’t matter that the bottom of the ACC is awful this season, that’s real progress for a school that was a complete joke for most of the last 15 years. One warning for you Dukies who think the team is one game from being bowl eligible: It’s not so.
Because some genius in the athletic department decided to schedule North Carolina Central this year (not sure who made that call) before NCCU is officially a Division 1-AA team, that win doesn’t count towards bowl eligibility. Duke will have to win seven to play postseason.
Comments (6)
Virginia Tech Faculty Outrage Misplaced; New Lows for the Redskins
Although there probably won’t be all that many people watching with The World Series going on (today’s soap opera questions: how does Pedro Martinez pitch while facing the Yankees in postseason for the first time since 2004; does A.J. Burnett implode if Joe Girardi makes him pitch to Jorge Posada?) there’s a college football game on TV tonight: North Carolina at Virginia Tech.
I bring this up not because it is a big game for anyone other than, well, North Carolina and Virginia Tech, but because of a story in this morning’s Washington Post about the fact that some faculty at Virginia Tech are very upset about a few evening classes being cancelled because the campus is basically overrun by football traffic.
Look, I can’t stand these midweek football games. College football is supposed to be played on Saturdays, really in the afternoon most of the time, although it is understandable why some places in the south prefer night games, especially early in the season.
But in the continuing sell-out by the alleged college presidents of college athletics to corporate America and TV, we now have college football games almost every night of the week. The ACC almost always has a Thursday night game and some of the smaller D-1 conferences line their teams up on Tuesday and Wednesday all the time. Once, Friday night was untouchable because the colleges gave way to high school football one night a week. Not anymore.
In fact, last Friday night ESPN had Rutgers-Army. There may be no place in the country where not playing on Saturday afternoon is a bigger crime than West Point. Anyone who has ever been to a game in Michie Stadium will know what I’m talking about. In 1999 in listing the 20 greatest sports venues of the 20th century, Sports Illustrated ranked Michie Stadium third—THIRD—behind only Yankee Stadium and Augusta National Golf Club.
Michie Stadium—and the entire military academy—are about as scenic as anyplace you can go on a fall afternoon. Even though Army’s been lousy the last 12 years (finally improving now with the right coach in place) there is nothing quite like a game at West Point. People arrive in the morning to tailgate, to go down to the plain to watch the cadet parade, then file into the pretty little stadium overlooking the reservoir, the mountains and the Hudson River.
On a Friday night though, it’s completely different. Traffic coming up from New York, where many fans come from, is an absolute nightmare. It is going to be cold for kickoff in late October and you can’t SEE any of the surrounding beauty. Playing on Friday always costs Army about 10,000 fans (at least) at the start of the game and, when the game’s not close and it’s raining, the stands are virtually empty during the second half.
The good news is that Army has signed a new TV contract with CBS College Sports that will mean all home games will kick off at noon on Saturday. The bad news is, Army is the exception—weeknight football across the country isn’t going away. Schools won’t turn down the money or the exposure they’re being offered in return for giving up Saturday football.
For most schools, a weeknight football game is a once a year on campus experience so there really is no reason not to try to enjoy it. Here though is a quote from today’s Post story from Jan Helge Bohn, a member of The Virginia Tech faculty: “I’m highly annoyed by the misplaced emphasis on athletics at the university. It infuriates me. The fact I have to move my car and go home and terminate work is outrageous in an academic community.”
If this was a once a week activity or even once a month the (self) esteemed professor might have a point. But we’re talking once a YEAR. Are athletics over-emphasized in many different ways at many, if not most, Division 1 schools? You bet. If this is so annoying and outrageous, get a job at a D-3 school. But please save the outrage for something important. Someone teaching at Virginia Tech should be especially conscious of the fact that being inconvenienced one day a year is hardly an issue of monumental importance. One wonders, when the entire school came together in the wake of the shootings to mourn and bond at the first football game that fall, if the professor was upset about THAT.
Speaking of annoying people, it has become pretty much impossible to not write or talk about the train wreck called The Washington Redskins. The club reached new lows on Monday night, not by dropping to 2-5 in a one-sided loss to the Philadelphia Eagles but with the neo-fascist tactics brought to bear (on Dan Snyder’s orders obviously) on fans who had the nerve to bring signs to the stadium.
Security people were ordered to not only confiscate all signs—clearly as an excuse to confiscate the negative ones—but also tossed people for wearing SHIRTS that said things like, “Sell the team,” or one that had a photo of Snyder and henchman Vinny Cerrato with a caption that said, “dumb and dumber.”
It got so bad that Dan Steinberg, who writes the very smart DC Sports Bog in The Post, was accosted by a security guard because he was looking through the garbage to see some of the signs that had been confiscated. The team put out a statement saying the new policy was put in because signs could block people's view (as opposed to those whose views are already blocked sitting in obstructed-view seats) and because those on sticks could be dangerous. Yeah, right, really dangerous. Oh one other thing: the TEAM handed out signs to people at several gates with the name of one of its corporate sponsors on it. Apparently THOSE did not block views and were not dangerous. Jeesh. Do these people EVER get caught in a truth?
Along with that came a radio appearance by the Redskins CFO—whose name I can’t remember and isn’t worth the time for me to look it up—in which he attacked The Post, accusing it of, “yellow journalism,” for the stories which revealed the team selling tickets to brokers last year (and bypassing those on the season ticket waiting list) and suing people who could no longer afford to pay for their incredibly over-priced club seats.
Yellow journalism? The stories were written by a Pulitzer Prize business reporter who did a LOT of digging to come up with facts. At one point CFO-guy said, “we don’t sue our fans.” Then later he said they had “only,” sued 125 fans in five years, which is considerably different than not suing your fans. He kept saying “125 fans out of 24,000 club seat and suite holders.” Let’s not even get into the question of whether 24,000 is a legitimate number given the waves of empty seats every week in the club section. That’s not the relevant number. The relevant number is how many people defaulted on their contracts among the 24,000. My guess is the number is about 125.
He also claimed the Redskins had dropped their lawsuit against, “Miss Hill or Miss Hall,” not even remembering her name. Miss Hill is the 72-year-old grandmother who became the centerpiece of The Post’s series. “Once we had the information we dropped the suit,” CFO guy said.
Where, exactly, did you get the information by the way? Oh wait, it was from that yellow journalism in The Post.
Honestly, I feel bad for these people who are forced—because they work for him—to defend Dan Snyder. It’s a little bit like it had to be working in The White House in 1974.
One last note: My Islanders beat the Rangers last night! Hallelujah. That’s two wins and the season isn’t yet a month old. Does anyone out there know where Bob Bourne is these days? Maybe the nicest athlete I’ve ever met in my life. I’d really like to do a hockey book someday, I already have a title: 'Season on the Rink.'
I bring this up not because it is a big game for anyone other than, well, North Carolina and Virginia Tech, but because of a story in this morning’s Washington Post about the fact that some faculty at Virginia Tech are very upset about a few evening classes being cancelled because the campus is basically overrun by football traffic.
Look, I can’t stand these midweek football games. College football is supposed to be played on Saturdays, really in the afternoon most of the time, although it is understandable why some places in the south prefer night games, especially early in the season.
But in the continuing sell-out by the alleged college presidents of college athletics to corporate America and TV, we now have college football games almost every night of the week. The ACC almost always has a Thursday night game and some of the smaller D-1 conferences line their teams up on Tuesday and Wednesday all the time. Once, Friday night was untouchable because the colleges gave way to high school football one night a week. Not anymore.
In fact, last Friday night ESPN had Rutgers-Army. There may be no place in the country where not playing on Saturday afternoon is a bigger crime than West Point. Anyone who has ever been to a game in Michie Stadium will know what I’m talking about. In 1999 in listing the 20 greatest sports venues of the 20th century, Sports Illustrated ranked Michie Stadium third—THIRD—behind only Yankee Stadium and Augusta National Golf Club.
Michie Stadium—and the entire military academy—are about as scenic as anyplace you can go on a fall afternoon. Even though Army’s been lousy the last 12 years (finally improving now with the right coach in place) there is nothing quite like a game at West Point. People arrive in the morning to tailgate, to go down to the plain to watch the cadet parade, then file into the pretty little stadium overlooking the reservoir, the mountains and the Hudson River.
On a Friday night though, it’s completely different. Traffic coming up from New York, where many fans come from, is an absolute nightmare. It is going to be cold for kickoff in late October and you can’t SEE any of the surrounding beauty. Playing on Friday always costs Army about 10,000 fans (at least) at the start of the game and, when the game’s not close and it’s raining, the stands are virtually empty during the second half.
The good news is that Army has signed a new TV contract with CBS College Sports that will mean all home games will kick off at noon on Saturday. The bad news is, Army is the exception—weeknight football across the country isn’t going away. Schools won’t turn down the money or the exposure they’re being offered in return for giving up Saturday football.
For most schools, a weeknight football game is a once a year on campus experience so there really is no reason not to try to enjoy it. Here though is a quote from today’s Post story from Jan Helge Bohn, a member of The Virginia Tech faculty: “I’m highly annoyed by the misplaced emphasis on athletics at the university. It infuriates me. The fact I have to move my car and go home and terminate work is outrageous in an academic community.”
If this was a once a week activity or even once a month the (self) esteemed professor might have a point. But we’re talking once a YEAR. Are athletics over-emphasized in many different ways at many, if not most, Division 1 schools? You bet. If this is so annoying and outrageous, get a job at a D-3 school. But please save the outrage for something important. Someone teaching at Virginia Tech should be especially conscious of the fact that being inconvenienced one day a year is hardly an issue of monumental importance. One wonders, when the entire school came together in the wake of the shootings to mourn and bond at the first football game that fall, if the professor was upset about THAT.
Speaking of annoying people, it has become pretty much impossible to not write or talk about the train wreck called The Washington Redskins. The club reached new lows on Monday night, not by dropping to 2-5 in a one-sided loss to the Philadelphia Eagles but with the neo-fascist tactics brought to bear (on Dan Snyder’s orders obviously) on fans who had the nerve to bring signs to the stadium.
Security people were ordered to not only confiscate all signs—clearly as an excuse to confiscate the negative ones—but also tossed people for wearing SHIRTS that said things like, “Sell the team,” or one that had a photo of Snyder and henchman Vinny Cerrato with a caption that said, “dumb and dumber.”
It got so bad that Dan Steinberg, who writes the very smart DC Sports Bog in The Post, was accosted by a security guard because he was looking through the garbage to see some of the signs that had been confiscated. The team put out a statement saying the new policy was put in because signs could block people's view (as opposed to those whose views are already blocked sitting in obstructed-view seats) and because those on sticks could be dangerous. Yeah, right, really dangerous. Oh one other thing: the TEAM handed out signs to people at several gates with the name of one of its corporate sponsors on it. Apparently THOSE did not block views and were not dangerous. Jeesh. Do these people EVER get caught in a truth?
Along with that came a radio appearance by the Redskins CFO—whose name I can’t remember and isn’t worth the time for me to look it up—in which he attacked The Post, accusing it of, “yellow journalism,” for the stories which revealed the team selling tickets to brokers last year (and bypassing those on the season ticket waiting list) and suing people who could no longer afford to pay for their incredibly over-priced club seats.
Yellow journalism? The stories were written by a Pulitzer Prize business reporter who did a LOT of digging to come up with facts. At one point CFO-guy said, “we don’t sue our fans.” Then later he said they had “only,” sued 125 fans in five years, which is considerably different than not suing your fans. He kept saying “125 fans out of 24,000 club seat and suite holders.” Let’s not even get into the question of whether 24,000 is a legitimate number given the waves of empty seats every week in the club section. That’s not the relevant number. The relevant number is how many people defaulted on their contracts among the 24,000. My guess is the number is about 125.
He also claimed the Redskins had dropped their lawsuit against, “Miss Hill or Miss Hall,” not even remembering her name. Miss Hill is the 72-year-old grandmother who became the centerpiece of The Post’s series. “Once we had the information we dropped the suit,” CFO guy said.
Where, exactly, did you get the information by the way? Oh wait, it was from that yellow journalism in The Post.
Honestly, I feel bad for these people who are forced—because they work for him—to defend Dan Snyder. It’s a little bit like it had to be working in The White House in 1974.
One last note: My Islanders beat the Rangers last night! Hallelujah. That’s two wins and the season isn’t yet a month old. Does anyone out there know where Bob Bourne is these days? Maybe the nicest athlete I’ve ever met in my life. I’d really like to do a hockey book someday, I already have a title: 'Season on the Rink.'
Comments (6)
The World Series – Stories of Covering the Royals ’85 Championship
Wed, Oct 28 2009 09:43
| World Series, MLB, KC Royals
| Permalink
The World Series begins tonight and I won’t be there because, to be honest, I just have too much work to get done to go. I might make it to Philadelphia this weekend if I can get a hall pass.
I’m like everyone else of my generation: I still remember running home from school as a kid to turn on the TV and watch The World Series when it was played in the afternoon. I didn’t do that in 1969 because the first two games in Baltimore were played over the weekend and then I WENT to the three games at Shea Stadium. Sat in the upper deck, which cost $2.50 for the Series—up from $1.30 during the regular season. Seriously.
It was baseball that made me a “celebrity,” for the first time in my life. I went to a tennis camp in that summer of ’69 and we would all sit around the TV in the commons room at night and watch The Mets. That’s where I watched Tom Seaver’s imperfect game on, I think it was July 8th. The sight of Jimmy Qualls hit landing between Tommie Agee and Cleon Jones with one out in the ninth is still burned in my brain.
While we’d watch, we would talk baseball. I was not one of the better tennis players in the camp by any means so not that many of the kids other than the ones on my hall or who I was playing against on the so-called, “ladder,” (I remember starting out 24th and working my way up to 6th) knew me. Then we started talking baseball. Without thinking I’d bring up things like Johnny Podres shutting out the Yankees in game seven in 1955 or Jackie Robinson first coming to the majors in 1947 or Babe Ruth pitching for the Red Sox in 1918. It was routine to me, stuff I’d read or heard. No big deal.
One morning at breakfast one of the counselors said, “Hey John who won the 1951 World Series?”
I shrugged. “The Yankees.”
“Who’d they beat?” Jeez, everyone knew that was the year Bobby Thompson hit the shot-heard-round-the world for the Giants to beat the Dodgers.
“Who’d he hit the home run off?”
“Ralph Branca, why?”
The counselor turned to the other counselor and said, “See I told you.”
Apparently, listening to me talk during the games we watched he had decided I was some kind of baseball savant. After that “stump John,” became a game. There was stuff I didn’t know, but I knew more than anyone else in the camp. I also knew the Mets roster by heart and could tell you that Ron Taylor was studying to be a doctor and that Jerry Koosman’s wife’s name was Lavonne. Didn’t everyone know that?
Ten years later I covered The World Series. That was the year that Jim Palmer screamed at me when he thought I’d asked him, “how do you feel?” after he lost game six when I was actually trying to softball him by asking “how DID you feel (on the mound) since he had pitched well in spite of losing.
I covered The World Series for The Post every year (except 1982 when I was covering politics and George Solomon was mad at me for turning down covering The Redskins to go do that) until I left the paper fulltime in 1988. And while my memories of 1986 are quite fond, the team I enjoyed the most during that run was the 1985 Kansas City Royals.
I was actually assigned to cover the Royals during the last week of the regular season when they were fighting the Angels for the American League West title. Right from the start, they had what we call a good clubhouse, a great one in fact. Dick Howser, the manager, was as nice a man as you’ll ever meet, full of good stories. George Brett was funny and always available and guys like Hal McRae and Frank White and a young Bret Saberhagen were also terrific. The best guy though was Dan Quisenberry, the superb closer. He was one of those guys who remembered your name the first time he met you and would walk across the clubhouse to say something like, “hey, I have a funny story for you if you’ve got a minute.”
The Royals won The West, then came from 3-1 down to beat The Toronto Blue Jays (managed by Bobby Cox) to win The American League pennant and THEN came from 3-1 down to beat the Cardinals (with an assist from Don Denkinger in game 6) to win The World Series.
One of my favorite moments of that Series came after game three. In those days, the morning shows tried to convince someone from one of the teams to come on each morning. They’d send a limo to get them to the studio and back. They would also send an attractive woman into the clubhouse to convince whatever player they wanted on the show that this was something he needed to do.
After game three one of these attractive women waited out the deadline guys around Brett and launched into her little speech. “I’ll meet you with the limo outside the hotel. We’ll have breakfast for you at the studio. Won’t you PLEASE do it?”
I was standing there and I can tell you for sure that I would have done it in a millisecond. I was not, however, George Brett.
Brett looked at her and smiled and said, “And what EXACTLY is in this for me?”
I thought the woman was going to faint for a moment. Apparently so did Brett. He laughed and said, “it’s fine. I’ll do it. I’m just teasing you.”
By the final weekend of that Series, I was a complete out-and-out Royals fan. The Cardinals clubhouse was as snarly as the Royals were friendly. I still remember Reggie Jackson, who was working The Series for ABC, trying to start a conversation with Vince Coleman--who had been injured by the men-eating tarp and wasn't playing. "Hey man, can't you see I'm too busy to talk to you?" Coleman said when Jackson tried to open a casual conversation. One thing about Coleman: he was consistent--ALWAYS a bad guy.
After Cesar Cedeno got a key hit to help win game one, he told the story about how he had been traded late in the season to the Cardinals. My memory is it involved the pitching coaches of the Reds and Cardinals (one of whom I think was Jim Kaat) having breakfast one morning after Jack Clark had gotten hurt and Kaat bringing up Cedeno’s name
“Whitey can tell you all the details,” Cedeno said, referring to manager Whitey Herzog.
I walked into Herzog’s office with Dave Anderson, the great Pulitzer Prize winning columnist from The New York Times to ask Herzog the story. When Dave asked Whitey to tell it, Herzog exploded, screaming profanities at Anderson because someone else had asked him to tell the story earlier. That’s the way it works at The Series, reporters come in waves and sometimes you are asked to repeat stories. Herzog, of all people knew that and he knew Anderson—one of the nicest men in journalism—from his days in New York. And his team had WON. Dave didn’t say a word; just turned around and walked out of the office.
Then there was John Tudor. He had been a revelation all year, winning 21 games and pitching superbly in postseason. After he pitched a four hit shutout in game four to put the Cardinals up 3-1 a lot of writers—surprise—wanted to write about him. Tudor walked to his locker, looked around and said, “what’s it take to get in here, a driver’s license? I already talked in the interview room.”
Yes he had, tersely describing what he’d thrown and when he’d thrown it. When a guy pitches a World Series shutout, columnists and sidebar writers are looking for more than that. Gordon Edes, one of the best baseball writers going, tried to explain that to Tudor.
“Great and now I have to talk to schmoes like this guy,” was Tudor’s response, turning his back on Edes.
When Tudor got bombed in game seven the no cheering in the press box rule was almost abandoned. Later, word came upstairs that he’d been so upset that he had possibly broken his hand, smashing it into a fan that was in the dugout ceiling. Which is when Barry Blume of The San Diego Tribune delivered one of the great press box lines ever. “Now, “he said, “the s--- really has hit the fan.”
Both Howser and Quisenberry died very young—cancer in both cases. They’re the first two people I think about when I think of those Royals. I also think about Quiz in the midst of the celebration, waving me over to his locker. “I got something for you,” he said. He reached into his locker and handed me a bottle of champagne. “We had fun having you cover us the last month,” he said as he handed it to me.
I know I should have handed it back but I didn’t. And I’m damn glad I resisted my ethical instincts at that moment. In those days, you could get a bottle of champagne on an airplane. I still have it and truly fond memories of Quiz, Howser and that whole team.
I’m like everyone else of my generation: I still remember running home from school as a kid to turn on the TV and watch The World Series when it was played in the afternoon. I didn’t do that in 1969 because the first two games in Baltimore were played over the weekend and then I WENT to the three games at Shea Stadium. Sat in the upper deck, which cost $2.50 for the Series—up from $1.30 during the regular season. Seriously.
It was baseball that made me a “celebrity,” for the first time in my life. I went to a tennis camp in that summer of ’69 and we would all sit around the TV in the commons room at night and watch The Mets. That’s where I watched Tom Seaver’s imperfect game on, I think it was July 8th. The sight of Jimmy Qualls hit landing between Tommie Agee and Cleon Jones with one out in the ninth is still burned in my brain.
While we’d watch, we would talk baseball. I was not one of the better tennis players in the camp by any means so not that many of the kids other than the ones on my hall or who I was playing against on the so-called, “ladder,” (I remember starting out 24th and working my way up to 6th) knew me. Then we started talking baseball. Without thinking I’d bring up things like Johnny Podres shutting out the Yankees in game seven in 1955 or Jackie Robinson first coming to the majors in 1947 or Babe Ruth pitching for the Red Sox in 1918. It was routine to me, stuff I’d read or heard. No big deal.
One morning at breakfast one of the counselors said, “Hey John who won the 1951 World Series?”
I shrugged. “The Yankees.”
“Who’d they beat?” Jeez, everyone knew that was the year Bobby Thompson hit the shot-heard-round-the world for the Giants to beat the Dodgers.
“Who’d he hit the home run off?”
“Ralph Branca, why?”
The counselor turned to the other counselor and said, “See I told you.”
Apparently, listening to me talk during the games we watched he had decided I was some kind of baseball savant. After that “stump John,” became a game. There was stuff I didn’t know, but I knew more than anyone else in the camp. I also knew the Mets roster by heart and could tell you that Ron Taylor was studying to be a doctor and that Jerry Koosman’s wife’s name was Lavonne. Didn’t everyone know that?
Ten years later I covered The World Series. That was the year that Jim Palmer screamed at me when he thought I’d asked him, “how do you feel?” after he lost game six when I was actually trying to softball him by asking “how DID you feel (on the mound) since he had pitched well in spite of losing.
I covered The World Series for The Post every year (except 1982 when I was covering politics and George Solomon was mad at me for turning down covering The Redskins to go do that) until I left the paper fulltime in 1988. And while my memories of 1986 are quite fond, the team I enjoyed the most during that run was the 1985 Kansas City Royals.
I was actually assigned to cover the Royals during the last week of the regular season when they were fighting the Angels for the American League West title. Right from the start, they had what we call a good clubhouse, a great one in fact. Dick Howser, the manager, was as nice a man as you’ll ever meet, full of good stories. George Brett was funny and always available and guys like Hal McRae and Frank White and a young Bret Saberhagen were also terrific. The best guy though was Dan Quisenberry, the superb closer. He was one of those guys who remembered your name the first time he met you and would walk across the clubhouse to say something like, “hey, I have a funny story for you if you’ve got a minute.”
The Royals won The West, then came from 3-1 down to beat The Toronto Blue Jays (managed by Bobby Cox) to win The American League pennant and THEN came from 3-1 down to beat the Cardinals (with an assist from Don Denkinger in game 6) to win The World Series.
One of my favorite moments of that Series came after game three. In those days, the morning shows tried to convince someone from one of the teams to come on each morning. They’d send a limo to get them to the studio and back. They would also send an attractive woman into the clubhouse to convince whatever player they wanted on the show that this was something he needed to do.
After game three one of these attractive women waited out the deadline guys around Brett and launched into her little speech. “I’ll meet you with the limo outside the hotel. We’ll have breakfast for you at the studio. Won’t you PLEASE do it?”
I was standing there and I can tell you for sure that I would have done it in a millisecond. I was not, however, George Brett.
Brett looked at her and smiled and said, “And what EXACTLY is in this for me?”
I thought the woman was going to faint for a moment. Apparently so did Brett. He laughed and said, “it’s fine. I’ll do it. I’m just teasing you.”
By the final weekend of that Series, I was a complete out-and-out Royals fan. The Cardinals clubhouse was as snarly as the Royals were friendly. I still remember Reggie Jackson, who was working The Series for ABC, trying to start a conversation with Vince Coleman--who had been injured by the men-eating tarp and wasn't playing. "Hey man, can't you see I'm too busy to talk to you?" Coleman said when Jackson tried to open a casual conversation. One thing about Coleman: he was consistent--ALWAYS a bad guy.
After Cesar Cedeno got a key hit to help win game one, he told the story about how he had been traded late in the season to the Cardinals. My memory is it involved the pitching coaches of the Reds and Cardinals (one of whom I think was Jim Kaat) having breakfast one morning after Jack Clark had gotten hurt and Kaat bringing up Cedeno’s name
“Whitey can tell you all the details,” Cedeno said, referring to manager Whitey Herzog.
I walked into Herzog’s office with Dave Anderson, the great Pulitzer Prize winning columnist from The New York Times to ask Herzog the story. When Dave asked Whitey to tell it, Herzog exploded, screaming profanities at Anderson because someone else had asked him to tell the story earlier. That’s the way it works at The Series, reporters come in waves and sometimes you are asked to repeat stories. Herzog, of all people knew that and he knew Anderson—one of the nicest men in journalism—from his days in New York. And his team had WON. Dave didn’t say a word; just turned around and walked out of the office.
Then there was John Tudor. He had been a revelation all year, winning 21 games and pitching superbly in postseason. After he pitched a four hit shutout in game four to put the Cardinals up 3-1 a lot of writers—surprise—wanted to write about him. Tudor walked to his locker, looked around and said, “what’s it take to get in here, a driver’s license? I already talked in the interview room.”
Yes he had, tersely describing what he’d thrown and when he’d thrown it. When a guy pitches a World Series shutout, columnists and sidebar writers are looking for more than that. Gordon Edes, one of the best baseball writers going, tried to explain that to Tudor.
“Great and now I have to talk to schmoes like this guy,” was Tudor’s response, turning his back on Edes.
When Tudor got bombed in game seven the no cheering in the press box rule was almost abandoned. Later, word came upstairs that he’d been so upset that he had possibly broken his hand, smashing it into a fan that was in the dugout ceiling. Which is when Barry Blume of The San Diego Tribune delivered one of the great press box lines ever. “Now, “he said, “the s--- really has hit the fan.”
Both Howser and Quisenberry died very young—cancer in both cases. They’re the first two people I think about when I think of those Royals. I also think about Quiz in the midst of the celebration, waving me over to his locker. “I got something for you,” he said. He reached into his locker and handed me a bottle of champagne. “We had fun having you cover us the last month,” he said as he handed it to me.
I know I should have handed it back but I didn’t. And I’m damn glad I resisted my ethical instincts at that moment. In those days, you could get a bottle of champagne on an airplane. I still have it and truly fond memories of Quiz, Howser and that whole team.
Comments (9)
John's Monday Washington Post column:
Mon, Oct 26 2009 03:51
| Mark McGwire, Cleveland Indians, Nationals, MLB, steroids, St. Louis Cardinals, Manny Acta
| Permalink
Here is this weeks column for The Washington Post -----
During perhaps the busiest time in the sports calendar, two mostly overshadowed baseball hires in the past week are worthy of attention.
The first is Manny Acta being named manager of the Cleveland Indians. If Acta succeeds in Cleveland, plenty of people no doubt will say the Washington Nationals made a mistake when they fired him in July. They'll be wrong. Acta is a bright young manager who almost certainly has a serious future, but the Nationals had no choice. They were in a position no team wants to be in: having to make a change for the sake of change.
The Nationals' mediocre starting pitching and their awful bullpen weren't Acta's fault. Their horrific defense was, at least to some degree: Basics and hustle can be taught; range and a good arm can't be. The Nationals failed mentally in the field as often as they failed physically, and Acta's calm demeanor probably wasn't right for a team that continued to make fundamental mistakes.
Plenty of managers have failed in their first job before finding success. When Casey Stengel was managing the Boston Braves, he was hit by a taxi during the 1943 season. A local columnist suggested naming the cab driver as the team's MVP. Everyone knows what happened to Stengel when he got to New York in 1949.
Click here for the rest of the column: Acta, McGwire get shots at redemption
During perhaps the busiest time in the sports calendar, two mostly overshadowed baseball hires in the past week are worthy of attention.
The first is Manny Acta being named manager of the Cleveland Indians. If Acta succeeds in Cleveland, plenty of people no doubt will say the Washington Nationals made a mistake when they fired him in July. They'll be wrong. Acta is a bright young manager who almost certainly has a serious future, but the Nationals had no choice. They were in a position no team wants to be in: having to make a change for the sake of change.
The Nationals' mediocre starting pitching and their awful bullpen weren't Acta's fault. Their horrific defense was, at least to some degree: Basics and hustle can be taught; range and a good arm can't be. The Nationals failed mentally in the field as often as they failed physically, and Acta's calm demeanor probably wasn't right for a team that continued to make fundamental mistakes.
Plenty of managers have failed in their first job before finding success. When Casey Stengel was managing the Boston Braves, he was hit by a taxi during the 1943 season. A local columnist suggested naming the cab driver as the team's MVP. Everyone knows what happened to Stengel when he got to New York in 1949.
Click here for the rest of the column: Acta, McGwire get shots at redemption
Comments (1)
A Lot to Talk About After This Weekend, Including a Book Dedication
Mon, Oct 26 2009 11:15
| Phillies, PGA Tour, Book Research, MLB, Officials, Yankees, Redskins
| Permalink
I'm honestly not exactly sure where to begin this morning.
I could begin with The World Series, which should be a great matchup if everyone involved doesn't freeze to death thanks to Major League Baseball's brilliant decision to push the climax of its season into November. I could also talk about how fortunate Yankees manager Joe Girardi is that Andy Pettitte got him close enough to Mariana Rivera that his middle relief pitchers (in this case Joba Chamberlain) only had to get him two outs in game six. If the Yankees lose that game--and for a while there it looked as if they might leave 100 men on base before the night was over--even with CC Sabathia pitching game seven the spectra of another ALCS collapse would have had people in New York in panic mode. An Angels victory might have caused the stock market to go down 400 points.
I'm honestly not sure if Girardi is that good a manager. He's so by-the-book (witness the pitching change with two outs and no one on in game 3 that led to the Angels win not to mention leaving A.J. Burnett out there WAY too long in game 5) and when he talks I swear to God I feel like I'm listening to Jim Zorn. The difference, of course, is that Girardi has so much talent that he could be the best or worst manager in history and it might not matter. What's more, if he wins, it DOESN'T matter. So we'll see what happens in The World Series. I'll also be fascinated to see how Alex Rodriguez does now that he's finally on the game's biggest stage. His numbers in postseason are great but how tight did he look to you with the bases loaded in the fourth inning. He fouled off a batting practice fastball on 2-0 and looked absolutely relieved when Dale Scott gave him ball four on a borderline pitch a moment later. Maybe I'm imagining things. We'll see. I'll say this, Sabathia vs. Cliff Lee is about as good a game 1 matchup as we've seen in a World Series in a long time. The key though may be how the guys pitching behind the studs pitch. The x-factors could end up being Pettitte and, believe it or not, Pedro Martinez.
In the meantime, I've tried to swear off writing anything about The Washington Redskins because it's become a little bit like battering a piñata that's already burst open and fallen to the ground. Still, after Vinny Cerrato's performance on Friday, I have to say something. Let's start with this: Who does this guy think he's kidding. His boss/lord and master, Dan Snyder, simply refused to speak to the media during the season. Cerrato spends the whole week ducking the media then goes on his own radio show (how did he get a radio show? Snyder owns the station) and "makes news," by saying Zorn won't be fired during the season. Whether that's true or not remains to be seen but then the guy has the NERVE to criticize the media. I'm sorry did the media lose to the Detroit Lions, the Carolina Panthers and the Kansas City Chiefs? Did the media completely fail to understand the importance of an offensive line? Did the media put itself in a position where it had to hire Zorn as head coach because no one with experience wanted the job? Has the media been so arrogant, so obnoxious and so money-gouging in almost 11 years of ownership that it has turned one of the great NFL towns against its NFL team?
I have suggested to some of my Washington Post colleagues that someone from the paper should be assigned after every game--win or lose--to walk up to Snyder and say, "what's your comment on today's game?" Snyder can refuse comment, can sick his bodyguards on the guy, can scream profanities (something he's famous for--ask Norv Turner among others) or he can discuss the game like an adult. His call. But MAKE him do it. Don't just accept the, "I don't speak to the media in-season," copout. He OWNS the team. He put together this team. Poor Zorn tried to claim a couple weeks ago that "most," NFL coaches meet with their owner during the week. NO THEY DON'T. Not the good coaches with good owners that's for sure. Do you think Bill Belichick spends a lot of time game-planning with Robert Kraft? If Snyder wants to run the team--which he clearly does--then he needs to respond to the public when the team goes bad.
Who knows, maybe the Redskins will win tonight with the bingo-caller running the offense. Then Snyder and Cerrato will spend all week sneering at people even more than normal. The Eagles are banged up and coming off an awful loss at Oakland so who knows if they're any good. Regardless, it won't fix a broken organization and that's what the Redskins are right now. And Vinny Cerrato--smarmy little mouthpiece that he is for Snyder--should shut up. If Snyder wants to speak to the media, legitimate media not people who work for him, fine. But that's it.
Onto more pleasant topics. No wait, I have to say something about officiating first. I was watching a college football game this weekend and a kid made a spectacular catch in the end zone. He stood up, put the ball between his legs twice and then dropped it on the ground. He was whistled for excessive celebration. Hello? What are these guys thinking. Is there NO common sense out there anymore. My God. There are only two reasons to flag someone for excessive celebration: If a group of players get together for something that's stage or if there's taunting--I mean in-your-face taunting. That's it. Or if someone pulls out a cell phone. One other thing: there needs to be a rule that if a replay official can't make a decision within two minutes, the call on the field stands. The delays have become ridiculous.
Okay, NOW a more pleasant topic. It's a long way from bad owners and bad officials to this but I want to thank everyone who wrote in either through a post or an e-mail to comment on the blog I wrote last week on my friend Patty Conway. It was especially nice to hear from friends from Shelter Island I hadn't talked to in a long time and to know that so many people shared the feelings that my kids and I had for Patty. Bob DeStefano, Patty's teacher and long-time boss at Gardiner's Bay Country Club reminded me that Patty was presented this summer with a junior, "Lifetime Achievement," Award during the annual junior awards banquet. Too often in life we honor people after they're gone. I'm glad Bob and his daughter Nancy thought to honor Patty in August--even before she was diagnosed with lung cancer.
I can almost hear Patty's voice right now talking about Rickie Fowler, the 20-year-old phenom who almost won on The PGA Tour yesterday. "Hey, he's kind of cute isn't he?" Then a pause. "Of course I like his golf swing too."
As luck would have it, I finished a golf book I've been working on for a good long while this weekend. It'll be out in the spring. It's called, "Moment of Glory," and it chronicles the 2003 majors when four first-time winners won the four majors: Mike Weir, Jim Furyk, Ben Curtis and Shaun Micheel. Furyk was well known when he won the U.S. Open; Weir was known when he won The Masters but Curtis and Micheel were complete unknowns when they won The British Open and The PGA having never won before on tour. The book's about how life changes when you are suddenly thrust into the public eye in ways you couldn't possibly have imagined.
The dedication for the book reads as follows: "This book is dedicated to the memory of Patty Conway who was loved by so many but none more than Brigid, who will always think of her when she hits it past the big kids."
I could begin with The World Series, which should be a great matchup if everyone involved doesn't freeze to death thanks to Major League Baseball's brilliant decision to push the climax of its season into November. I could also talk about how fortunate Yankees manager Joe Girardi is that Andy Pettitte got him close enough to Mariana Rivera that his middle relief pitchers (in this case Joba Chamberlain) only had to get him two outs in game six. If the Yankees lose that game--and for a while there it looked as if they might leave 100 men on base before the night was over--even with CC Sabathia pitching game seven the spectra of another ALCS collapse would have had people in New York in panic mode. An Angels victory might have caused the stock market to go down 400 points.
I'm honestly not sure if Girardi is that good a manager. He's so by-the-book (witness the pitching change with two outs and no one on in game 3 that led to the Angels win not to mention leaving A.J. Burnett out there WAY too long in game 5) and when he talks I swear to God I feel like I'm listening to Jim Zorn. The difference, of course, is that Girardi has so much talent that he could be the best or worst manager in history and it might not matter. What's more, if he wins, it DOESN'T matter. So we'll see what happens in The World Series. I'll also be fascinated to see how Alex Rodriguez does now that he's finally on the game's biggest stage. His numbers in postseason are great but how tight did he look to you with the bases loaded in the fourth inning. He fouled off a batting practice fastball on 2-0 and looked absolutely relieved when Dale Scott gave him ball four on a borderline pitch a moment later. Maybe I'm imagining things. We'll see. I'll say this, Sabathia vs. Cliff Lee is about as good a game 1 matchup as we've seen in a World Series in a long time. The key though may be how the guys pitching behind the studs pitch. The x-factors could end up being Pettitte and, believe it or not, Pedro Martinez.
In the meantime, I've tried to swear off writing anything about The Washington Redskins because it's become a little bit like battering a piñata that's already burst open and fallen to the ground. Still, after Vinny Cerrato's performance on Friday, I have to say something. Let's start with this: Who does this guy think he's kidding. His boss/lord and master, Dan Snyder, simply refused to speak to the media during the season. Cerrato spends the whole week ducking the media then goes on his own radio show (how did he get a radio show? Snyder owns the station) and "makes news," by saying Zorn won't be fired during the season. Whether that's true or not remains to be seen but then the guy has the NERVE to criticize the media. I'm sorry did the media lose to the Detroit Lions, the Carolina Panthers and the Kansas City Chiefs? Did the media completely fail to understand the importance of an offensive line? Did the media put itself in a position where it had to hire Zorn as head coach because no one with experience wanted the job? Has the media been so arrogant, so obnoxious and so money-gouging in almost 11 years of ownership that it has turned one of the great NFL towns against its NFL team?
I have suggested to some of my Washington Post colleagues that someone from the paper should be assigned after every game--win or lose--to walk up to Snyder and say, "what's your comment on today's game?" Snyder can refuse comment, can sick his bodyguards on the guy, can scream profanities (something he's famous for--ask Norv Turner among others) or he can discuss the game like an adult. His call. But MAKE him do it. Don't just accept the, "I don't speak to the media in-season," copout. He OWNS the team. He put together this team. Poor Zorn tried to claim a couple weeks ago that "most," NFL coaches meet with their owner during the week. NO THEY DON'T. Not the good coaches with good owners that's for sure. Do you think Bill Belichick spends a lot of time game-planning with Robert Kraft? If Snyder wants to run the team--which he clearly does--then he needs to respond to the public when the team goes bad.
Who knows, maybe the Redskins will win tonight with the bingo-caller running the offense. Then Snyder and Cerrato will spend all week sneering at people even more than normal. The Eagles are banged up and coming off an awful loss at Oakland so who knows if they're any good. Regardless, it won't fix a broken organization and that's what the Redskins are right now. And Vinny Cerrato--smarmy little mouthpiece that he is for Snyder--should shut up. If Snyder wants to speak to the media, legitimate media not people who work for him, fine. But that's it.
Onto more pleasant topics. No wait, I have to say something about officiating first. I was watching a college football game this weekend and a kid made a spectacular catch in the end zone. He stood up, put the ball between his legs twice and then dropped it on the ground. He was whistled for excessive celebration. Hello? What are these guys thinking. Is there NO common sense out there anymore. My God. There are only two reasons to flag someone for excessive celebration: If a group of players get together for something that's stage or if there's taunting--I mean in-your-face taunting. That's it. Or if someone pulls out a cell phone. One other thing: there needs to be a rule that if a replay official can't make a decision within two minutes, the call on the field stands. The delays have become ridiculous.
Okay, NOW a more pleasant topic. It's a long way from bad owners and bad officials to this but I want to thank everyone who wrote in either through a post or an e-mail to comment on the blog I wrote last week on my friend Patty Conway. It was especially nice to hear from friends from Shelter Island I hadn't talked to in a long time and to know that so many people shared the feelings that my kids and I had for Patty. Bob DeStefano, Patty's teacher and long-time boss at Gardiner's Bay Country Club reminded me that Patty was presented this summer with a junior, "Lifetime Achievement," Award during the annual junior awards banquet. Too often in life we honor people after they're gone. I'm glad Bob and his daughter Nancy thought to honor Patty in August--even before she was diagnosed with lung cancer.
I can almost hear Patty's voice right now talking about Rickie Fowler, the 20-year-old phenom who almost won on The PGA Tour yesterday. "Hey, he's kind of cute isn't he?" Then a pause. "Of course I like his golf swing too."
As luck would have it, I finished a golf book I've been working on for a good long while this weekend. It'll be out in the spring. It's called, "Moment of Glory," and it chronicles the 2003 majors when four first-time winners won the four majors: Mike Weir, Jim Furyk, Ben Curtis and Shaun Micheel. Furyk was well known when he won the U.S. Open; Weir was known when he won The Masters but Curtis and Micheel were complete unknowns when they won The British Open and The PGA having never won before on tour. The book's about how life changes when you are suddenly thrust into the public eye in ways you couldn't possibly have imagined.
The dedication for the book reads as follows: "This book is dedicated to the memory of Patty Conway who was loved by so many but none more than Brigid, who will always think of her when she hits it past the big kids."
Comments (6)
Can’t Stay Away from the Hot Topic ---- Umpiring and Reffing
Fri, Oct 23 2009 10:32
| college football, MLB, Officials, BCS
| Permalink
For most of the last two weeks I have tried to stay away from writing about the lousy umpiring during this baseball postseason. For one thing, how many times can you say, 'the umpires missed a call last night.' For another, I really DON'T like to pick on officials because, as I've said before, the ones I've known have been almost universally good guys who I think work very hard to get their calls right. I still remember Joe Forte, once a top college referee who went on to work in the NBA telling me, "To me, reffing is the way I still play the game (he had been a D-2 college player). My calls are my shots and I hate it when I miss one."
Having said that, in the wake of Major League Baseball's apparent decision to abandon tradition and use only umpires with past World Series experience, there are a number of things that more or less scream for comment. First the good news: Let's give MLB credit for admitting it has a problem right now and making this move. That's not to say that going with the more experienced guys guarantees there won't be problems: the two umps who have struggled in the Yankees-Angels series, Tim McClelland and Dale Scott are both experienced guys with good reputations. Still, this is a step in the right direction.
The story, which was broken by the Associated Press (unlike ESPN the AP breaks actual stories rather than CLAIMING to have broken stories) has some interesting numbers in it: In 24 of the last 25 World Series, there has been at least one ump--more often two--who has never worked The Series before. Now, obviously everyone who is qualified has to work their first Series at some point, but MLB has clearly been over-doing it. What's more, even though MLB claims that umpires are selected for postseason on merit, that's clearly not the case.
If so, how could umpires like C.B. Bucknor and Phil Cuzzi--bad umps with bad reps and bad tempers--be working postseason? Bucknor clearly blew two calls in the Red Sox-Angels series and, in a postseason filled with bad calls, Cuzzi had the poster child miss: calling Joe Mauer's clearly fair ball foul in the 11th inning of Yankees-Twins, game 2. Apparently Bucknor--according to the AP--was still in line to work The Series in spite of those missed calls and in spite of the fact that I have NEVER talked to a player or manager who thought he could ump a lick. I'm not trying to pick on the guy, I've never met him and he may be a wonderful person, but I can't find anyone who thinks he can umpire. The same is pretty much true of Cuzzi.
All of this brings up a larger issue: officiating in general. Just this week SEC Commissioner Mike Slive felt obligated to suspend an officiating crew after it clearly blew a critical call (at least one) for the second time in three weeks. Good for Slive, although his line about having the best officials in college football rings kind of hollow at the moment.
I have a couple of thoughts on this: first, I think instant replay has hurt officiating in general. It may be sub-conscious but I think officials now think they don't have to work as hard to get calls right because replay is there as a backup--although replay doesn't always get it right either. Maybe it would help--seriously--if when a call is overturned the referee announced, "the ruling on the field made by the line judge has been overturned." When a player commits a penalty or a foul, everyone in the stadium knows he did it. When an official blows a call and it is officially overturned, people should know who it is AND mistakes like that should be tracked. I've always believed nothing motivates people like being embarrassed. If USA Today ran a weekly list on overturned calls--as in 1. Joe Smith--7 overturns this season--I think that would motivate officials to hustle a little bit more.
I've already said before I think officials should be accountable after games for their calls. They should also be subject to fines if they say something stupid the way coaches and players (at the pro level) are. Any criticism of officials is subject to fine. Okay then, if an umpire like Randy Marsh says he never saw the ball hit Brandon Inge's shirt (Detroit-Minnesota) then Mike Port
I know this sounds harsh but I'll say it one more time: officials should be subjected to the same scrutiny as players. I think this is even more true at the college level where the officials get paid and the players (ostensibly) don't. The Arkansas Florida
Of course to me the poster child on all this is an ACC line judge named Perry Hudspeth. He's the guy who blew the mark on a fourth down Notre Dame pass 10 years ago, giving Notre Dame a first down (by an inch) with a minute to go and the Irish out of time outs. Eight years later, when Navy finally won at Notre Dame someone called Hudspeth to ask him if he was glad, in light of what had happened in 1999, to see Navy finally end its 43 year losing streak (which would have ended at 35 if not for Hudspeth) against Notre Dame. Instead of just saying, "you know, I've looked at the replay and I made a mistake. I certainly regret it, I've worked hard since then to not let something like that happen again," Hudspeth said something about his supervisor backing him up on the call. Sure he did, just like Mike Port
Which brings me full circle to yesterday's blog on the BCS--the people who have re-invented the term, "never wrong no matter how wrong." (Maybe that should be their slogan, huh?). My friend and one-time student Seth Davis twittered that I had gone, "Joe Wilson," on the BCS since I called the presidents liars. (which they are). I appreciate the fact that Seth is reading but Joe Wilson? Me? I'd prefer Ma Bailey, who tells her non-existent son George (Jimmy Stewart) "IT'S A LIE!" when he tries to convince her he's her son in "It's A Wonderful Life." I'm more a Ma Bailey type than Joe Wilson.
One other note on yesterday: the posts about the BCS were terrific. One person brought up the notion that if you offered the Presidents more money they'd go the playoff route right away. That's not quite true. While they'd love the extra cash, what they don't want to give up is CONTROL. Right now, it's their ball and they can do whatever they want with it. A playoff would have to put on by the NCAA--like the tournaments in every other sport--and they don't want to give up their absolute power.
Have I mentioned how much I can't stand them?
Comments (11)
Updated - John's Radio Segments for This Week: (includes The Kornheiser Show, The Sports Reporters, The Gas Man Show)
Yesterday (Tuesday) I made an early week appearance on the newest Tony Kornheiser Show, as my schedule precludes me from doing the regular Thursday segment. Click the permalink, then the link below, to listen to the segment on a variety of topics, including Navy football and GT's Paul Johnson.
Click here to listen to the radio segment (my segment starts around the 16:00 mark): The Tony Kornheiser Show
Today, I made an afternoon appearance on 'The Sports Reporters' with Steve Czaban and Andy Pollin in my regular spot (5:25 ET on Wednesday's). As expected, much of the talk centered on the Redskins situation.
Click here to listen to Wednesday afternoon's podcast: The Sports Reporters
I make regular appearances on Seattle's The Gas Man Show on Thursday evenings (5:35 PT), and this evening we spent a lot of time on the situation with referrees and umpires.
Click here to listen to the radio segment: The Gas Man Show
Click here to listen to the radio segment (my segment starts around the 16:00 mark): The Tony Kornheiser Show
Today, I made an afternoon appearance on 'The Sports Reporters' with Steve Czaban and Andy Pollin in my regular spot (5:25 ET on Wednesday's). As expected, much of the talk centered on the Redskins situation.
Click here to listen to Wednesday afternoon's podcast: The Sports Reporters
I make regular appearances on Seattle's The Gas Man Show on Thursday evenings (5:35 PT), and this evening we spent a lot of time on the situation with referrees and umpires.
Click here to listen to the radio segment: The Gas Man Show
John's Monday Washington Post column:
Mon, Oct 12 2009 06:42
| college football, Washington Post, MLB, Officials
| Permalink
This is Monday' Washington Post column, bringing to light the call for officials to be as accountable as players. The following is the article:
October may be a great month to be a sports fan, but it most definitely has not been good month to be a sports official.
Let's just do a quick review of the most blatant officiating screw-up that have occurred so far this month:
-- Umpire Randy Marsh fails to see the ball hit the uniform shirt of Detroit's Brandon Inge in the 12th inning of the Tigers-Minnesota Twins American League Central Division playoff game. Because the bases were loaded the Tigers would have, at worst, taken a one-run lead into the bottom of the inning.
-- Umpire Phil Cuzzi somehow calls Joe Mauer's slicing line drive foul in the top of the 11th inning of Game 2 of the Twins-Yankees series when the ball was clearly fair by a foot. The call costs the Twins at least one run, and the Yankees win in the bottom of the inning on Mark Texeira's home run.
-- Officials in the LSU-Georgia game call "excessive celebration" on Georgia receiver A.J. Green after his late touchdown catch put the Bulldogs up 13-12. That helped give LSU superb field position after the ensuing kickoff. In a clear make-up call, the officials then flagged LSU running back Charles Scott for excessive celebration after he scored the winning touchdown. The Southeastern Conference admitted two days later that both calls were wrong.
-- The referee in the Navy-Air Force game made a ridiculous roughing-the-passer call on Navy, wiping out a Navy interception and allowing Air Force to tie the score as time expired. Air Force quarterback Tim Jefferson was scrambling when he was hit an instant after releasing the ball. His coach, Troy Calhoun, described the call as " a gift." Fortunately for Navy and the referee, Navy won in overtime.
Click here to read the rest of the column: Everyone Answers for Mistakes -- Except Officials
October may be a great month to be a sports fan, but it most definitely has not been good month to be a sports official.
Let's just do a quick review of the most blatant officiating screw-up that have occurred so far this month:
-- Umpire Randy Marsh fails to see the ball hit the uniform shirt of Detroit's Brandon Inge in the 12th inning of the Tigers-Minnesota Twins American League Central Division playoff game. Because the bases were loaded the Tigers would have, at worst, taken a one-run lead into the bottom of the inning.
-- Umpire Phil Cuzzi somehow calls Joe Mauer's slicing line drive foul in the top of the 11th inning of Game 2 of the Twins-Yankees series when the ball was clearly fair by a foot. The call costs the Twins at least one run, and the Yankees win in the bottom of the inning on Mark Texeira's home run.
-- Officials in the LSU-Georgia game call "excessive celebration" on Georgia receiver A.J. Green after his late touchdown catch put the Bulldogs up 13-12. That helped give LSU superb field position after the ensuing kickoff. In a clear make-up call, the officials then flagged LSU running back Charles Scott for excessive celebration after he scored the winning touchdown. The Southeastern Conference admitted two days later that both calls were wrong.
-- The referee in the Navy-Air Force game made a ridiculous roughing-the-passer call on Navy, wiping out a Navy interception and allowing Air Force to tie the score as time expired. Air Force quarterback Tim Jefferson was scrambling when he was hit an instant after releasing the ball. His coach, Troy Calhoun, described the call as " a gift." Fortunately for Navy and the referee, Navy won in overtime.
Click here to read the rest of the column: Everyone Answers for Mistakes -- Except Officials
Comments (6)
Continued Redskins Mess, Early NFL Season and MLB Playoffs
I write today from a town in which all the sharp objects have been hidden. The Washington Redskins are now 2-3 and in the last four weeks they have played teams that--putting aside two wins over Washington Penn State
That's really enough on the Redskins because outside of this area, very few people could care less about a franchise that has been uniformly mediocre since the Dan Snyder's Reign of Error began 10 years ago. One local columnist, my friend Tom Boswell, suggested today that Snyder sell part of the team to Joe Gibbs to get him to come back as team president but that misses the point. Gibbs was a great coach, a mediocre general manager. He was better than Snyder and henchman Vinny Cerrato but my cat would be an improvement on the two of them. There will probably be a lot of whining today about what appeared to be a bad call on a fumbled punt but two points need to be made: The Redskins still had 9:21 left to produce at least a tying field goal after Carolina went ahead 20-17 and you are talking about an offense that scored on drives of 13 yards and one yard and went into the season knowing it was one injury from complete disaster on the offensive line and now has two injuries, an aging running back (who ducked the media yesterday) and a bingo-caller (seriously) dragged out of retirement by Cerrato without consulting his head coach (!!) as a consultant. Honestly, if I was Jim Zorn I'd punch Cerrato right in the nose. He's getting fired anyway so why not?
One more thing on the NFL before moving on to the really good stuff--the baseball. This season is turning into a nightmare for Commissioner Roger Goodell. Rush Limbaugh wants to buy a team. (Guess who is one of the most influential people in the players union? That would be Donovan McNabb) He's got serious labor problems on the horizon. Beyond that, look at how many truly bad teams there are in the league. Now fewer than four teams--Kansas City Tampa Bay St. Louis Tennessee Oakland Detroit Buffalo Cleveland Carolina
There are, of course, some good stories, most notably Josh McDaniels who people wanted to run out of Denver Minnesota
Okay, let's pause for a moment and give The Presidents Cup all the time it deserves...
That's enough, now the baseball.
Am I the only one shocked that it's already football season in Boston St. Louis Los Angeles St. Louis Holladay may not be in St. Louis Holladay makes the play Thursday, the game is over.
Just as stunning was the end of the Red Sox season on Sunday in Boston
Now the Angels get the Yankees. No one was surprised the Yankees swept the Twins but it was a lot harder than it looked. For all the talk about the vaunted lineup, the Yankees scored one run in the first eight innings of game two and two runs in the first eight innings of game three. The Twins were a base-running mistake and a horrible umpiring call away from winning on Friday in New York
They did--but the Yankees were better-albeit not by that much. What's more let's not get caught up in his, "A-Rod has put his October ghosts behind him," hype. Not yet he hasn't. Sure, he was great against the Twins but go back to 2004. He was great against the Twins then too before collapsing--along with his team--in the last four games against the Red Sox. Let's see if he can do it against the Angels who have given the Yankees fits for years and have had a similar hold on New York
The Phillies middle-of-the-night (in the east) win in frigid Colorado
Let us end today with a final tribute to The Metrodome--one of the weirdest, wackiest, loudest places where baseball has ever been played. No doubt it is great for the Twins to get a new ballpark--although my guess is Opening Day on April 10th may be a bit brisk--but for a place that had a relatively short history, the Metrodome certainly had a lot of remarkable moments. And, while the ending may have been sad for the Twins fans, they should revel in the way the last regular season ended--with that wonderful victory lap their team took after beating the Tigers last Tuesday.
And let's remember one last thing: the full name of the building was the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. At the very last that's a far more fitting name for a ballpark--especially in Minnesota--than the corporate name that will be on the new stadium. That, however, is the way of the world these days. "The Hump," as it was often called in its early days, will surely be missed.
Comments (7)
‘Accountability’ Should Be Simple, But With Umpires and Officials It’s Often Not
I can tell you before I write a word this morning that I'm going to struggle writing the blog today. The reason is simple: my coffeemaker is broken. Drinking coffee has been part of my morning routine since I started swimming and working at the golf club when I was in high school. I don't just like drinking the coffee, I like the IDEA of drinking the coffee. I now have a collection of coffee mugs from my travels that stretches back to my junior year in college when I bought a Red Sox coffee mug on my first trip to Fenway Park. I still have it. There is no more enjoyable part of my day than making the coffee, picking a mug and sitting down at the kitchen table to read the newspapers. I realize that dates me but it is what I do. Once I've had coffee and read the papers I feel ready to face the day.
I know I can go and buy coffee--or a new coffee maker after I drop my son off at school. Not the same. I've already read the papers. I feel like Miss Clavelle in Madeleine: Something is not right.
So, I will soldier on and do my best. I hope you will bear with me.
I know the baseball playoffs will become dramatic soon enough but it's kind of funny what a letdown yesterday was--not for the Phillies, Yankees or Dodgers--after Tuesday's remarkable Twins-Tigers playoff game. All three home teams won and they did it fairly easily. The only real surprise was seeing Chris Carpenter giving up line drives all over Dodger Stadium. After the Cardinals only score one run after loading the bases with no one out in the top of the first I went to make sure Danny was doing his homework upstairs. By the time I came back down, the Dodgers were up 2-1. You don't expect that with Carpenter pitching.
People were still talking about the Twins Tuesday victory yesterday and I saw one thing that was disturbing and brought to mind a major complaint I have with the way sports are run. Jim Leyland was as gracious as one could be under the circumstances after his team's loss. He said that the Tigers had plenty of chances to win the division and didn't get it done but he was upset that no one from Major League Baseball has acknowledged that home plate umpire Randy Marsh simply didn't see the ball graze Brandon Inge's uniform on the leg with the bases loaded in the 12th inning. If Marsh gets the call right the Tigers--worst case scenario--take a 6-5 lead to the bottom of the 12th. As I said yesterday I'm not convinced they win the game at that juncture because Fernando Rodney was pretty much done.
Worse than that though is this comment from Mike Port, MLB's supervisor of umpires: "If Randy Marsh, who has worked about 4,000 games said the replays he saw were inconclusive then I would have to agree with his assessment at this point."
Huh? The umpire says he didn't blow the call so the supervisor simply takes him at his word? What's the point of having a supervisor then? Port's job is to tell the public what HE saw on the replays not what Randy Marsh says he saw or didn't see. That's a complete copout. Port and Marsh should say, "the call was missed and we're very sorry." That doesn't change the result but, as in all things, everyone feels better when someone who makes a mistake admits it.
This gets into a large issue: the accountability--or lack of it--among officials in all sports. Officials should be required to speak to the media, especially in controversial situations, the same way players and coaches and managers are required to do so. I'm not saying you open the door to their locker room and let 100 guys and camera crews pile in. But if a request to speak to an official is made it should be honored, at the very least by sending in a pool reporter.
At the NCAA basketball tournament, pool reporters are designated at every site. But the reporter can only speak to officials if a rules question is raised. If an official hits a team with three technicals or tees up a coach you can't go ask him for his side of what happened. To be honest, I think that's bad for the officials because more often than not telling their side will be helpful.
Baseball umpires have more discretion than most officials. If a reporter knocks on their door to ask a question they can decide whether to talk or not to talk. As I said yesterday, in the old days most umpires were more than willing to talk--on almost any subject--and I thought it helped us (media, fans) understand them better.
Two years ago, when I was doing my book on Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina, an umpire named Tony Randazzo badly blew a key call in a Glavine-pitched game in Washington Randolph Randolph Randolph
Randazzo missed two other calls that night causing Gary Cohen, the Mets TV play-by-play guy to say the next day (The Mets won in extra innings but Glavine didn't get a win when he was fighting to get to 300) "give Randazzo credit for consistency. He had three calls to make in the game and he missed them all."
By then I had talked to Glavine and Randolph and thought I should give Randazzo a chance to tell his side. I felt pretty sure that he would have looked at the video by then--all umps locker room have video equipment so they can see plays as soon as a game is over--and would probably say, "you know I missed that one in the sixth. I feel bad about it." That's what good officials do.
I knocked on the door of the umpires’ locker room and was greeted by one of the umpires--I'm not honestly sure which one--but I knew it wasn't Randazzo. I introduced myself asked if I could speak to Randazzo and explained why. The ump closed the door, came back a minute later and said, "He's got nothing to say." I gave it one more shot, explaining this incident WOULD be in the book and I really wanted to give him a chance to respond to Glavine and Randolph. The door closed again. A moment later it opened. "He has no comment."
I shrugged. I had tried. But I took it one step further because for all I knew Tony Randazzo had sat there and said, 'book, what book? What the hell is the guy talking about?' There ARE people who don't get what I do. So, I called Port. I explained the situation. "Oh yeah, Tony should talk to you," he said. "I know what call you're talking about. (the implication being he knew it was a badly blown call). I'll get in touch with him for you."
This was in May. I finished the book in October. There are no quotes from Tony Randazzo in the book.
Last Saturday at Navy an official made a horrible call on a roughing the passer call that could have cost Navy the game. Think he was available to explain his thinking afterwards?
I am NOT, by any means, a basher of officials. I know a lot of them and like a lot of them. I have traveled with college basketball referees while doing book research. I think almost all of them try to be as good as they can be at their jobs. Like players and coaches and the rest of us they make mistakes on the job. That's one reason why replay is now a part of all our major sports because humans are fallible and officiating is a tough job.
But it's not right that they are frequently not held accountable. In that same game Saturday, Air Force's kicker missed a 31-yard field goal in overtime, costing Air Force its last chance to win. The same kid--and he is a kid--had made a field goal to put the game into overtime minutes earlier. A few minutes after the miss, he stood outside his locker room and talked to the media. Why should he have to answer questions when the ref who made the horrific call--a grown man--doesn't have to answer?
Okay, I got that off my chest. Now I'm going to go buy a new coffeemaker.
Comments (6)
What a Great Game!!; Notes on Recent Comments
Wed, Oct 7 2009 12:13
| PGA Tour, Tiger Woods, MLB
| Permalink
So how good was that?
Frequently, when you get really fired up to watch a game, it lets you down. That was NOT the case last night with Twins-Tigers. As I said yesterday, only baseball gives us one game to decide whether a team reaches postseason after a 162 game season. We have now had 163 games the last three seasons and all three have been one run games: The Rockies long-journey-into-late-night 134 inning, 9-8 win over the Padres two years ago; the White Sox 1-0 victory over the Twins and then last night's 6-5 win for the Twins over the Tigers in 12 excruciating innings.
Even as a neutral observer the second half of the game was excruciating to watch. When the Tigers took a 3-0 lead, I felt bad for the Twins because I admire what the organization has achieved up there so much and because I knew if the Twins lost it would be The Metrodome's last game. Not that the Metrodome is Fenway Park or Wrigley Field by any stretch, but it is unique. I've been in the place when it is LOUD like last night and two of the great games in baseball history--game six and game seven of the '91 World Series--were played there on back-to-back nights.
Then when Orlando Cabrera hit the seventh inning homer to put the Twins up 4-3 I kept looking at Jim Leyland and remembering the pain in his voice on the night in 1992 when his Pirates lost to the Braves, 3-2 in game 7 of the NLCS after leading 2-0. He's a terrific manager and a wonderful guy. I thought about the city of Detroit and everything it has been through and what a downer it would be to lose the division after leading by seven with four weeks to play and by three with four games to play (!!).
Back and forth it went, momentum swinging, it seemed on every batter. I actually got chills a couple of times--on behalf of each team. Brandon Inge as hero--great story. Nick Punto not only had three remarkable at-bats late in the game--and would have driven in the winning run if Alexi Casilla (the hero two innings later of course) hadn't forgotten to tag up on his line drive in the 10th--but made one of the great defensive plays I've ever seen in the 12th. I'm telling you 99 out of 100 second basemen would have instinctively tried for the double play in that situation but Punto knew right away he couldn't pull it off and the go-ahead run would score. He made that split second decision and then threw a STRIKE to Joe Mauer to force Miguel Cabrera. As many heroes as there were in that game, if I was giving an MVP it would be Punto.
Tiger fans will always--justifiably--wonder what would have happened if Randy Marsh had seen the ball graze Brandon Inge's uniform on the first pitch of his at-bat (the one that produced the ground ball to Punto) in the 12th. Maybe the Tigers would have scored five. We'll never know. I will say this: if the Tigers had gone ahead 6-5 in the inning I do not believe Fernando Rodney would have gotten through the bottom of the 12th. He was clearly gassed and Leyland stayed with him because he had no other options.
I was fascinated watching Marsh's strike zone all night. It was, by today's standards, huge. It was also what strike zones once were before umpires decided that squeezing pitchers made them more important and powerful. Most important, it was consistent. When Orlando Cabrera struck out in the 11th, he almost got tossed for arguing on two pitches. Both were borderline--at best. But here's the point: they had been strikes all night.
It reminded me a little of a 19 inning game I saw years ago between the Indians and Red Sox. In the bottom of the 18th Mike Hargrove came out of the dugout to argue a called third strike on Mark Whiten with plate umpire Dale Scott.
"How can that be a strike?" Hargrove asked Scott.
"Because it's been a strike now for 18 f----- innings," Scott answered. "It was a strike six hours ago and it's a strike now."
After the game (this was when umpires were still easily accessible to the media) when Scott repeated the line to me he added, "Now THAT's a line I hope I don't have to use again anytime soon."
You couldn't not feel for the Tigers when Carlos Gomez dove into home plate with the winning run more than five hours after the game started. As Ron Darling--who has become a GREAT analyst--had pointed out an inning earlier: "One of these teams flies to New York to prepare for the Yankees, the other starts preparing for spring training two thousand and ten."
That kind of put it in perspective.
I loved the Twins victory lap. It was so sweet and spontaneous and even if the Yankees sweep the Division Series that's a memory all of them and all in the ballpark will carry forever. It was just a really cool sports moment. In an entirely different way it brought back memories of Cal Ripken Jr's victory lap on September 6, 1995 after he broke Lou Gehrig's unbreakable consecutive games played record. Nothing was planned--it just happened and if you were in the ballpark that night, you still get chills when you think about it. This will be the same sort of memory.
My only problem with the entire night--and this is a real nitpick--was hearing Denard Span tell the four letter network that the Twins 17-4 finish and their victory in game 163 was all due to, "The Good Lord. He took care of us. He looked after us."
Oh please. As if the Twins did something to deserve divine intervention that the Tigers didn't. God played absolutely no role in that game or that magic of the night. He was like the rest of us: sitting back and watching with a big smile on His face.
------------------------------------------------------
Some notes on recent posts: Great comment on the over-abundance of champagne celebrations in baseball. It is a little much when they hand out T-shirts and spray champagne after a team clinches the wild card. That being said, if ever a champagne celebration was appropriate it was last night...
Someone asked about PGA Tour fines: They are more closely guarded than Fort Knox. A player can actually be fine for revealing that he was fined! It's all about image. Tiger Woods is the most fined player in PGA Tour history (profanity, club throwing, his caddy's behavior et al). You think The Tour and Tiger's sponsors would want it in the paper every time he was fined? That's exactly why the fines should be published: if they were, you can bet Tiger would clean up his act in a hurry because he's so image conscious. Best fine ever: my pal Paul Goydos being fined for yelling profanities at a TAPE RECORDING in the tour's travel office because he was frustrated they had closed early on a Saturday...
One other golf note: Gunnar, one of our regular posters told a story about Curtis Strange telling his amateurs on the first tee that he didn't plan to speak to them until the 18th green after the photo was taken. Sammy, another regular, wrote in wondering if it was Bobby Wadkins or J.C. Snead--not Curtis. I'm inclined to think he may be right. I walked pro-am rounds with Curtis and he was always very nice to his amateurs, at least when I was around. The one thing he DID say on the first tee was: "I'll be glad to read putts for you, give you swing advice if you ask but I will NOT look for lost balls."...
Finally: Thank you to everyone who posted or e-mailed about Friday's blog regarding my mom. As I said to someone that day, unique is one of the most over-used words in our society (it is also mis-used constantly by TV and radio people who love to say, 'very unique,'--Mike Greenburg and Mike Francessa are two frequent mis-users--since you can't be very one of kind) but I think I can say without fear of being contradicted that my mom was unique.
Frequently, when you get really fired up to watch a game, it lets you down. That was NOT the case last night with Twins-Tigers. As I said yesterday, only baseball gives us one game to decide whether a team reaches postseason after a 162 game season. We have now had 163 games the last three seasons and all three have been one run games: The Rockies long-journey-into-late-night 134 inning, 9-8 win over the Padres two years ago; the White Sox 1-0 victory over the Twins and then last night's 6-5 win for the Twins over the Tigers in 12 excruciating innings.
Even as a neutral observer the second half of the game was excruciating to watch. When the Tigers took a 3-0 lead, I felt bad for the Twins because I admire what the organization has achieved up there so much and because I knew if the Twins lost it would be The Metrodome's last game. Not that the Metrodome is Fenway Park or Wrigley Field by any stretch, but it is unique. I've been in the place when it is LOUD like last night and two of the great games in baseball history--game six and game seven of the '91 World Series--were played there on back-to-back nights.
Then when Orlando Cabrera hit the seventh inning homer to put the Twins up 4-3 I kept looking at Jim Leyland and remembering the pain in his voice on the night in 1992 when his Pirates lost to the Braves, 3-2 in game 7 of the NLCS after leading 2-0. He's a terrific manager and a wonderful guy. I thought about the city of Detroit and everything it has been through and what a downer it would be to lose the division after leading by seven with four weeks to play and by three with four games to play (!!).
Back and forth it went, momentum swinging, it seemed on every batter. I actually got chills a couple of times--on behalf of each team. Brandon Inge as hero--great story. Nick Punto not only had three remarkable at-bats late in the game--and would have driven in the winning run if Alexi Casilla (the hero two innings later of course) hadn't forgotten to tag up on his line drive in the 10th--but made one of the great defensive plays I've ever seen in the 12th. I'm telling you 99 out of 100 second basemen would have instinctively tried for the double play in that situation but Punto knew right away he couldn't pull it off and the go-ahead run would score. He made that split second decision and then threw a STRIKE to Joe Mauer to force Miguel Cabrera. As many heroes as there were in that game, if I was giving an MVP it would be Punto.
Tiger fans will always--justifiably--wonder what would have happened if Randy Marsh had seen the ball graze Brandon Inge's uniform on the first pitch of his at-bat (the one that produced the ground ball to Punto) in the 12th. Maybe the Tigers would have scored five. We'll never know. I will say this: if the Tigers had gone ahead 6-5 in the inning I do not believe Fernando Rodney would have gotten through the bottom of the 12th. He was clearly gassed and Leyland stayed with him because he had no other options.
I was fascinated watching Marsh's strike zone all night. It was, by today's standards, huge. It was also what strike zones once were before umpires decided that squeezing pitchers made them more important and powerful. Most important, it was consistent. When Orlando Cabrera struck out in the 11th, he almost got tossed for arguing on two pitches. Both were borderline--at best. But here's the point: they had been strikes all night.
It reminded me a little of a 19 inning game I saw years ago between the Indians and Red Sox. In the bottom of the 18th Mike Hargrove came out of the dugout to argue a called third strike on Mark Whiten with plate umpire Dale Scott.
"How can that be a strike?" Hargrove asked Scott.
"Because it's been a strike now for 18 f----- innings," Scott answered. "It was a strike six hours ago and it's a strike now."
After the game (this was when umpires were still easily accessible to the media) when Scott repeated the line to me he added, "Now THAT's a line I hope I don't have to use again anytime soon."
You couldn't not feel for the Tigers when Carlos Gomez dove into home plate with the winning run more than five hours after the game started. As Ron Darling--who has become a GREAT analyst--had pointed out an inning earlier: "One of these teams flies to New York to prepare for the Yankees, the other starts preparing for spring training two thousand and ten."
That kind of put it in perspective.
I loved the Twins victory lap. It was so sweet and spontaneous and even if the Yankees sweep the Division Series that's a memory all of them and all in the ballpark will carry forever. It was just a really cool sports moment. In an entirely different way it brought back memories of Cal Ripken Jr's victory lap on September 6, 1995 after he broke Lou Gehrig's unbreakable consecutive games played record. Nothing was planned--it just happened and if you were in the ballpark that night, you still get chills when you think about it. This will be the same sort of memory.
My only problem with the entire night--and this is a real nitpick--was hearing Denard Span tell the four letter network that the Twins 17-4 finish and their victory in game 163 was all due to, "The Good Lord. He took care of us. He looked after us."
Oh please. As if the Twins did something to deserve divine intervention that the Tigers didn't. God played absolutely no role in that game or that magic of the night. He was like the rest of us: sitting back and watching with a big smile on His face.
------------------------------------------------------
Some notes on recent posts: Great comment on the over-abundance of champagne celebrations in baseball. It is a little much when they hand out T-shirts and spray champagne after a team clinches the wild card. That being said, if ever a champagne celebration was appropriate it was last night...
Someone asked about PGA Tour fines: They are more closely guarded than Fort Knox. A player can actually be fine for revealing that he was fined! It's all about image. Tiger Woods is the most fined player in PGA Tour history (profanity, club throwing, his caddy's behavior et al). You think The Tour and Tiger's sponsors would want it in the paper every time he was fined? That's exactly why the fines should be published: if they were, you can bet Tiger would clean up his act in a hurry because he's so image conscious. Best fine ever: my pal Paul Goydos being fined for yelling profanities at a TAPE RECORDING in the tour's travel office because he was frustrated they had closed early on a Saturday...
One other golf note: Gunnar, one of our regular posters told a story about Curtis Strange telling his amateurs on the first tee that he didn't plan to speak to them until the 18th green after the photo was taken. Sammy, another regular, wrote in wondering if it was Bobby Wadkins or J.C. Snead--not Curtis. I'm inclined to think he may be right. I walked pro-am rounds with Curtis and he was always very nice to his amateurs, at least when I was around. The one thing he DID say on the first tee was: "I'll be glad to read putts for you, give you swing advice if you ask but I will NOT look for lost balls."...
Finally: Thank you to everyone who posted or e-mailed about Friday's blog regarding my mom. As I said to someone that day, unique is one of the most over-used words in our society (it is also mis-used constantly by TV and radio people who love to say, 'very unique,'--Mike Greenburg and Mike Francessa are two frequent mis-users--since you can't be very one of kind) but I think I can say without fear of being contradicted that my mom was unique.
Comments (5)
The Baseball Playoffs, and One of the Most Dramatic Things in Sports
Tue, Oct 6 2009 08:32
| Brett Favre, Detroit Tigers, MLB, Yankees, Minnesota Twins
| Permalink
With all the hype--to put it mildly--that surrounded the Vikings-Packers game on Monday night in Minneapolis, I don't think it even qualifies as the most exciting event being played in that building this week. You can talk all you want about Brett Favre getting revenge against the Packers with the win and God-knows ESPN acted as if it was three Super Bowls--at least--being played on one night but here's what it actually was: a regular season NFL game. Period.
The game being played in The Metrodome this afternoon is one of the rarest and most dramatic things in sports: a one game playoff to decide a spot in the postseason. Baseball is the only sport in which this can happen. In football, basketball and hockey there are tiebreakers that decide who makes the playoffs and who doesn't. In college basketball there's a committee that chooses the teams and in Division 1-A college football there's, well, no playoff.
In baseball, if you are in the same division and you finish with the same record you play one game. It can also happen if there's a tie for the wild card. In the old days, before division play, if two teams tied for a pennant they played off two-out-of-three for a spot in The World Series. That produced some pretty dramatic moments including Bobby Thompson's home run in 1951. Unless my memory is bad--which it often is--the first one game playoff after divisional play began in 1969 was in Fenway Park in 1978. That game is remembered quite simply as, "The Bucky Bleeping Dent game."
Enough said.
Of course every playoff game in football is a one game winner advances, loser goes home affair. Hockey, basketball and baseball have game seven (or in division series game 5) in which one team moves on and the other starts waiting till next year. And of course game seven of a Stanley Cup Final, NBA Final or The World Series is almost always memorable.
But what will happen in The Metrodome today is unique. No other sport has it and, even though it has now happened in the American League Central two years in a row, it doesn't happen very often. Last year the Twins lost in Chicago to the White Sox after rallying down the stretch to catch them. This year, after somehow catching the Tigers from seven games back in early September WITHOUT past MVP Justin Morneau, they get to host the one game playoff. The football game is the reason it is being played today rather than yesterday and the winner will have to fly straight to New York and almost surely begin postseason on Wednesday evening. (Technically, the Yankees could opt to start the series on Thursday but no one expects them to. Why give the opposition an extra day to rest when your pitching is lined up?).
The reason there's nothing in sports that compares to this is simple: These two teams began spring training in mid-February, almost eight months ago. They played almost 30 exhibition games and then 162 games that mattered. And now they play one game for the right to at least raise some kind of banner next April. If you are "AL Central Division champions 2009," you raise a banner regardless of what happens in postseason. If you are, "Guys who lost a playoff for the AL Central Division 2009," that doesn't rate a banner.
What's more, unless you are the Yankees, making the playoffs has meaning in baseball. Only eight of 30 teams make it as opposed to 12 of 32 in football; 16 of 30 hockey and 16 of 30 in basketball. No team has ever made the playoffs, even with the advent of the wild card, with a .500 or sub-.500 record. It is a not infrequent occurrence in the other sports.
It's very difficult to decide who to root for in this game. On the one hand, the Tigers are carrying the hopes and fears of a city that has been under huge duress for the last year and beyond. Detroit and the state of Michigan got a boost when Michigan State made its run to the NCAA national championship game in April but the Spartans were hammered by North Carolina in the final. People there almost counted on having the Detroit Red Wings win another Stanley Cup in June but the Pittsburgh Penguins went into hallowed Joe Louis Arena and won game seven of the finals. At least the Lions finally won a game.
Now though, the Tigers having led the division all season, face a one game showdown with a kid pitcher on the mound to try to make postseason for the second time in four years. The Tigers haven't won a division title since 1987 or a World Series since 1984. To be caught and passed by the Twins would be painful for everyone.
On the other hand it is impossible not to admire the Twins. Year after year they go out with one of baseball's lower payrolls and put a solid team on the field. In Joe Mauer they have the game’s next true superstar--and probably this year's MVP--a catcher who has already won three batting titles. They have a hugely underrated manager in Ron Gardenhire who has already coaxed his team into the playoffs four times plus two one-game playoffs last year and this year.
Every year, as I said, they find a way to contend. It will be one of those games where I'll feel good for the winners, awful for the losers. Those are usually the best games.
Of course once postseason begins on Wednesday, the Yankees, with their 103 wins and $200 million payroll will be the favorites. The Twins or Tigers, with their rotations in tatters will have a tough time against them, no doubt. But the Yankees have had serious trouble with two teams the last five years: The Angels and Red Sox. The Angels always seem to beat them and have beaten them twice in postseason since New York's epic collapse in 2004 against Boston. In fact, the Yankees haven't won a postseason SERIES since then while the Red Sox, who once stood for October futility have won two World Series and came within a game of being back there last year. Either will be a tough out for the Yankees because of those recent memories.
In the National League, the Phillies have the experience of having won last year but little confidence in their bullpen--which was a rock last year. The Dodgers have Joe Torre and the Rockies have been the hottest team. The Cardinals have the best one-two punch at the top of the rotation with Chris Carpenter and Adam Wainwright. It is tough not to like their chances.
Of course postseason baseball is entirely unpredictable because the series are short and some teams that are built for 162 games are not so well built for best-of-seven. (See Yankees, New York the last six years). I will enjoy the division series the most because of the variety of games and because a lot of them start at reasonable hours on the east coast. And I will pray that it snows on the November World Series because that's what Major League Baseball deserves for such ridiculous scheduling. Anyone out there remember who won The World Baseball Classic--which is the reason the schedule was pushed back a week back in the spring?
For now though, I'm going to enjoy Twins-Tigers this afternoon. And Thank God it will be at least 24 hours (I hope) before ESPN starts hyping Packers-Vikings 2. (I refuse to give it a Roman numeral). I will concede this: When Favre returns to Green Bay, THAT will be worth watching.
The game being played in The Metrodome this afternoon is one of the rarest and most dramatic things in sports: a one game playoff to decide a spot in the postseason. Baseball is the only sport in which this can happen. In football, basketball and hockey there are tiebreakers that decide who makes the playoffs and who doesn't. In college basketball there's a committee that chooses the teams and in Division 1-A college football there's, well, no playoff.
In baseball, if you are in the same division and you finish with the same record you play one game. It can also happen if there's a tie for the wild card. In the old days, before division play, if two teams tied for a pennant they played off two-out-of-three for a spot in The World Series. That produced some pretty dramatic moments including Bobby Thompson's home run in 1951. Unless my memory is bad--which it often is--the first one game playoff after divisional play began in 1969 was in Fenway Park in 1978. That game is remembered quite simply as, "The Bucky Bleeping Dent game."
Enough said.
Of course every playoff game in football is a one game winner advances, loser goes home affair. Hockey, basketball and baseball have game seven (or in division series game 5) in which one team moves on and the other starts waiting till next year. And of course game seven of a Stanley Cup Final, NBA Final or The World Series is almost always memorable.
But what will happen in The Metrodome today is unique. No other sport has it and, even though it has now happened in the American League Central two years in a row, it doesn't happen very often. Last year the Twins lost in Chicago to the White Sox after rallying down the stretch to catch them. This year, after somehow catching the Tigers from seven games back in early September WITHOUT past MVP Justin Morneau, they get to host the one game playoff. The football game is the reason it is being played today rather than yesterday and the winner will have to fly straight to New York and almost surely begin postseason on Wednesday evening. (Technically, the Yankees could opt to start the series on Thursday but no one expects them to. Why give the opposition an extra day to rest when your pitching is lined up?).
The reason there's nothing in sports that compares to this is simple: These two teams began spring training in mid-February, almost eight months ago. They played almost 30 exhibition games and then 162 games that mattered. And now they play one game for the right to at least raise some kind of banner next April. If you are "AL Central Division champions 2009," you raise a banner regardless of what happens in postseason. If you are, "Guys who lost a playoff for the AL Central Division 2009," that doesn't rate a banner.
What's more, unless you are the Yankees, making the playoffs has meaning in baseball. Only eight of 30 teams make it as opposed to 12 of 32 in football; 16 of 30 hockey and 16 of 30 in basketball. No team has ever made the playoffs, even with the advent of the wild card, with a .500 or sub-.500 record. It is a not infrequent occurrence in the other sports.
It's very difficult to decide who to root for in this game. On the one hand, the Tigers are carrying the hopes and fears of a city that has been under huge duress for the last year and beyond. Detroit and the state of Michigan got a boost when Michigan State made its run to the NCAA national championship game in April but the Spartans were hammered by North Carolina in the final. People there almost counted on having the Detroit Red Wings win another Stanley Cup in June but the Pittsburgh Penguins went into hallowed Joe Louis Arena and won game seven of the finals. At least the Lions finally won a game.
Now though, the Tigers having led the division all season, face a one game showdown with a kid pitcher on the mound to try to make postseason for the second time in four years. The Tigers haven't won a division title since 1987 or a World Series since 1984. To be caught and passed by the Twins would be painful for everyone.
On the other hand it is impossible not to admire the Twins. Year after year they go out with one of baseball's lower payrolls and put a solid team on the field. In Joe Mauer they have the game’s next true superstar--and probably this year's MVP--a catcher who has already won three batting titles. They have a hugely underrated manager in Ron Gardenhire who has already coaxed his team into the playoffs four times plus two one-game playoffs last year and this year.
Every year, as I said, they find a way to contend. It will be one of those games where I'll feel good for the winners, awful for the losers. Those are usually the best games.
Of course once postseason begins on Wednesday, the Yankees, with their 103 wins and $200 million payroll will be the favorites. The Twins or Tigers, with their rotations in tatters will have a tough time against them, no doubt. But the Yankees have had serious trouble with two teams the last five years: The Angels and Red Sox. The Angels always seem to beat them and have beaten them twice in postseason since New York's epic collapse in 2004 against Boston. In fact, the Yankees haven't won a postseason SERIES since then while the Red Sox, who once stood for October futility have won two World Series and came within a game of being back there last year. Either will be a tough out for the Yankees because of those recent memories.
In the National League, the Phillies have the experience of having won last year but little confidence in their bullpen--which was a rock last year. The Dodgers have Joe Torre and the Rockies have been the hottest team. The Cardinals have the best one-two punch at the top of the rotation with Chris Carpenter and Adam Wainwright. It is tough not to like their chances.
Of course postseason baseball is entirely unpredictable because the series are short and some teams that are built for 162 games are not so well built for best-of-seven. (See Yankees, New York the last six years). I will enjoy the division series the most because of the variety of games and because a lot of them start at reasonable hours on the east coast. And I will pray that it snows on the November World Series because that's what Major League Baseball deserves for such ridiculous scheduling. Anyone out there remember who won The World Baseball Classic--which is the reason the schedule was pushed back a week back in the spring?
For now though, I'm going to enjoy Twins-Tigers this afternoon. And Thank God it will be at least 24 hours (I hope) before ESPN starts hyping Packers-Vikings 2. (I refuse to give it a Roman numeral). I will concede this: When Favre returns to Green Bay, THAT will be worth watching.
Comments (7)
October Transition – Baseball, Football, Basketball and Hockey; Follow-Up to a Question Leads to Another
Wed, Sep 30 2009 10:21
| NFL, college football, college basketball, NHL, MLB
| Permalink
If, like me, you are a fan of just about all sports, this is an interesting transitional time of year. For example, today I will make my way to Nationals Park for the final home game of The Washington Nationals miserable season. As terrible as the Nats have been, the fact that Washington has had a baseball team for the last five years--after 33 years without one--makes life here better. There will be a chill in the air for a late afternoon start today and I'll feel a certain sense of melancholy that baseball's regular season is winding down but it will still be good to sit in the ballpark, keep score and look down at a baseball field. Any of us who can still remember the way it felt the first time they walked into a major league stadium--I was six and it was Yankee Stadium--should be able to take pleasure in watching a ballgame--any ballgame--while at the ballpark.
Of course there will still be a final weekend of the regular season and a month of postseason baseball ahead. I enjoy the postseason but the late starts once you get beyond the division series make it tough for me. I'm an early morning guy and I love 7 o'clock baseball games that are over by 10. Postseason not only starts later but takes longer because of added commercials and all the pitching changes. It's fun, but different.
At almost the same moment that 22 of baseball's 30 teams are packing up for the winter and their on-air pitchmen are trying to sell season ticket packages for next spring, hockey is starting its regular season and basketball is starting pre-season training camp. Not to mention that the alleged college basketball experts are making their predictions. (I saw one top 50 ranking this morning in which every team picked below, I don't know, fifth claimed it was getting, "no respect." With all due respect I'm sick and tired of athletes saying they get no respect.).
As I've said before, I really like hockey, especially when I'm in the building and even more so when the playoffs begin. I love the tension of almost every shift. And there are few things in sports better than an overtime playoff game because no one knows when the game is going to suddenly end. It is true sudden death (or victory) because it happens in an instant and often you don't see it coming.
Here in Washington the expectations for the Capitals are huge. The Caps played a great six game series against the Penguins last year but, unfortunately for them, there was a game seven for which they simply failed to show up. Pittsburgh went on to win The Stanley Cup, fulfilling the kind of promise the Caps appear to have with Alexander Ovechkin leading them along with hot young players like Mike Green, Niklas Backstrom and Alexander Semin. Whether they can surpass the Penguins in the east remains to be seen but it should be fun to watch.
As it happens, I am one of about 12 people who still actually cares about the fate of The New York Islanders. The funny thing is of all the boyhood teams I cared about--the Islanders came into existence my senior year in high school and I immediately adopted them because I have always had an affinity for underdogs and expansion teams (often the same thing). I saw 25 of the 39 home games that year as the Islanders went 12-60-6 which at the time was a record for NHL futility. The Caps went 8-67-5 two years later. By then, the Islanders were good and actually came from 3-0 behind in playoff series twice that season--beating the Penguins in game seven; losing to the Flyers (damn that Kate Smith) in game seven.
I probably was hooked forever when I actually got to cover the team while they were winning their four straight Stanley Cups and found them a remarkably likeable group of men. I didn't have that same experience with my other boyhood teams--Mets, Jets, Knicks--which may explain why, as awful as the Islanders have been, I don't have the same affinity for them as for the Islanders. I pretty much gave up on the Knicks when Pat Riley was the coach because I didn't like him or the team's style of play. I'm still (sadly) a Mets fan even though the teams of the 90s were often difficult to root for and I've come back to the Jets this season not because they're 3-0 but because Rex Ryan is a friend dating to my experience writing about the Ravens five years ago.
The long-winded point is this: the end of one season in sports, disappointing as it may have been, always leads to the beginning of another season. Just when the Islanders are ending another lousy season next April (even with Jonathan Tavares they still aren't likely to make the playoffs) baseball will be starting again. The Final Four almost always is played the same weekend Major League Baseball begins. One of my favorite memories in sports is going to Opening Day in Kansas City in April of 1988 and then watching Kansas beat Oklahoma in the national championship game that night.
October is probably our busiest sports month. Postseason baseball; football in full swing; hockey underway and basketball warming up in the wings ready to crank up at almost the same moment--especially these days--that The World Series ends. I would love to make one more trip to Camden Yards this weekend even though it looks as if the Orioles are going to lose 100 games but I have Navy-Air Force on Saturday and my daughter's birthday party on Sunday. Priorities do come into play.
In the meantime, as much as I regret not having made more trips to the ballpark this summer, I'm looking forward to hockey and to college basketball. (Still tough to get me hooked on the NBA, I'll admit it). For now though, a trip to the ballpark this afternoon for an absolutely meaningless baseball game is something I can look forward to with zest. I consider myself extremely lucky that, even at my advanced age, all sports can give me so much pleasure. What's the old saying: a bad day at the ballpark is still better than most days. That's certainly be true for me going all the way back to that first time my mom took me to Yankee Stadium. The Yankees beat the Indians that day, 5-3.
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I've been meaning since last week to respond to a note someone sent asking me if I had "reconsidered," my position on the Duke lacrosse fiasco, referencing a quote in my Wikipedia which says that, "The Duke players were guilty of something."
I do NOT want to re-open the entire Duke lacrosse debate but the mention of Wikipedia did bring up a somewhat sore subject. To begin with, what I said when all was said and done was, "I think those kids were probably guilty of everything BUT rape." What I meant was that, even though the case was handled inexcusably by the prosecutor (who was, correctly, fired and disbarred as a result) the notion that these kids were martyrs of some kind was ridiculous. This was a group of young men behaving badly who had a reputation for behaving badly. There WERE racial epithets directed at the two strippers according to people in the room and the e-mail subsequently sent out by one player (not one of the three accused) about what he'd like to see done to the two women was beyond horrific. Did Duke mishandle the situation from day one? Yes. Were the accusations proven absolutely false? Yes. Was Coach Mike Pressler's firing premature and unfair? Yes--and he received a hefty judgment as a result as did the three players. But the kids weren't Knights in Shining Armor accused of wrongdoing.
What bothered me most about the question being asked--which was a legitimate one to bring up if you read the Wikipedia--is Wikipedia. It is a helpful tool for someone like me looking for simple facts, but it can be quite misleading. If you read mine--and I'm sure this is true in a lot of cases--you'd think the two most significant things in my career were my, "rush to judgment," on Duke lacrosse and the profanity I used four years ago on a Navy broadcast. I know that's the way life works--ask Bill Buckner, who is a borderline Hall of Fame player remembered by most people for one booted ground ball. (And most people STILL think the Red Sox were winning the game at that moment). I get all that. But that doesn't make seeing things written about you that are wrong any less easy to see or to see more written about five seconds in your life than about 25 books. But, as I said, that's the way it works. And Buckner isn't the only other person who can attest to that.
In fact, let's make that a question for today: Name other athletes or coaches who are remembered for one bad moment who had otherwise sterling careers. Mitch Williams also comes to mind right away. Let's come up with some others.
Of course there will still be a final weekend of the regular season and a month of postseason baseball ahead. I enjoy the postseason but the late starts once you get beyond the division series make it tough for me. I'm an early morning guy and I love 7 o'clock baseball games that are over by 10. Postseason not only starts later but takes longer because of added commercials and all the pitching changes. It's fun, but different.
At almost the same moment that 22 of baseball's 30 teams are packing up for the winter and their on-air pitchmen are trying to sell season ticket packages for next spring, hockey is starting its regular season and basketball is starting pre-season training camp. Not to mention that the alleged college basketball experts are making their predictions. (I saw one top 50 ranking this morning in which every team picked below, I don't know, fifth claimed it was getting, "no respect." With all due respect I'm sick and tired of athletes saying they get no respect.).
As I've said before, I really like hockey, especially when I'm in the building and even more so when the playoffs begin. I love the tension of almost every shift. And there are few things in sports better than an overtime playoff game because no one knows when the game is going to suddenly end. It is true sudden death (or victory) because it happens in an instant and often you don't see it coming.
Here in Washington the expectations for the Capitals are huge. The Caps played a great six game series against the Penguins last year but, unfortunately for them, there was a game seven for which they simply failed to show up. Pittsburgh went on to win The Stanley Cup, fulfilling the kind of promise the Caps appear to have with Alexander Ovechkin leading them along with hot young players like Mike Green, Niklas Backstrom and Alexander Semin. Whether they can surpass the Penguins in the east remains to be seen but it should be fun to watch.
As it happens, I am one of about 12 people who still actually cares about the fate of The New York Islanders. The funny thing is of all the boyhood teams I cared about--the Islanders came into existence my senior year in high school and I immediately adopted them because I have always had an affinity for underdogs and expansion teams (often the same thing). I saw 25 of the 39 home games that year as the Islanders went 12-60-6 which at the time was a record for NHL futility. The Caps went 8-67-5 two years later. By then, the Islanders were good and actually came from 3-0 behind in playoff series twice that season--beating the Penguins in game seven; losing to the Flyers (damn that Kate Smith) in game seven.
I probably was hooked forever when I actually got to cover the team while they were winning their four straight Stanley Cups and found them a remarkably likeable group of men. I didn't have that same experience with my other boyhood teams--Mets, Jets, Knicks--which may explain why, as awful as the Islanders have been, I don't have the same affinity for them as for the Islanders. I pretty much gave up on the Knicks when Pat Riley was the coach because I didn't like him or the team's style of play. I'm still (sadly) a Mets fan even though the teams of the 90s were often difficult to root for and I've come back to the Jets this season not because they're 3-0 but because Rex Ryan is a friend dating to my experience writing about the Ravens five years ago.
The long-winded point is this: the end of one season in sports, disappointing as it may have been, always leads to the beginning of another season. Just when the Islanders are ending another lousy season next April (even with Jonathan Tavares they still aren't likely to make the playoffs) baseball will be starting again. The Final Four almost always is played the same weekend Major League Baseball begins. One of my favorite memories in sports is going to Opening Day in Kansas City in April of 1988 and then watching Kansas beat Oklahoma in the national championship game that night.
October is probably our busiest sports month. Postseason baseball; football in full swing; hockey underway and basketball warming up in the wings ready to crank up at almost the same moment--especially these days--that The World Series ends. I would love to make one more trip to Camden Yards this weekend even though it looks as if the Orioles are going to lose 100 games but I have Navy-Air Force on Saturday and my daughter's birthday party on Sunday. Priorities do come into play.
In the meantime, as much as I regret not having made more trips to the ballpark this summer, I'm looking forward to hockey and to college basketball. (Still tough to get me hooked on the NBA, I'll admit it). For now though, a trip to the ballpark this afternoon for an absolutely meaningless baseball game is something I can look forward to with zest. I consider myself extremely lucky that, even at my advanced age, all sports can give me so much pleasure. What's the old saying: a bad day at the ballpark is still better than most days. That's certainly be true for me going all the way back to that first time my mom took me to Yankee Stadium. The Yankees beat the Indians that day, 5-3.
--------------------------------------
I've been meaning since last week to respond to a note someone sent asking me if I had "reconsidered," my position on the Duke lacrosse fiasco, referencing a quote in my Wikipedia which says that, "The Duke players were guilty of something."
I do NOT want to re-open the entire Duke lacrosse debate but the mention of Wikipedia did bring up a somewhat sore subject. To begin with, what I said when all was said and done was, "I think those kids were probably guilty of everything BUT rape." What I meant was that, even though the case was handled inexcusably by the prosecutor (who was, correctly, fired and disbarred as a result) the notion that these kids were martyrs of some kind was ridiculous. This was a group of young men behaving badly who had a reputation for behaving badly. There WERE racial epithets directed at the two strippers according to people in the room and the e-mail subsequently sent out by one player (not one of the three accused) about what he'd like to see done to the two women was beyond horrific. Did Duke mishandle the situation from day one? Yes. Were the accusations proven absolutely false? Yes. Was Coach Mike Pressler's firing premature and unfair? Yes--and he received a hefty judgment as a result as did the three players. But the kids weren't Knights in Shining Armor accused of wrongdoing.
What bothered me most about the question being asked--which was a legitimate one to bring up if you read the Wikipedia--is Wikipedia. It is a helpful tool for someone like me looking for simple facts, but it can be quite misleading. If you read mine--and I'm sure this is true in a lot of cases--you'd think the two most significant things in my career were my, "rush to judgment," on Duke lacrosse and the profanity I used four years ago on a Navy broadcast. I know that's the way life works--ask Bill Buckner, who is a borderline Hall of Fame player remembered by most people for one booted ground ball. (And most people STILL think the Red Sox were winning the game at that moment). I get all that. But that doesn't make seeing things written about you that are wrong any less easy to see or to see more written about five seconds in your life than about 25 books. But, as I said, that's the way it works. And Buckner isn't the only other person who can attest to that.
In fact, let's make that a question for today: Name other athletes or coaches who are remembered for one bad moment who had otherwise sterling careers. Mitch Williams also comes to mind right away. Let's come up with some others.
Comments (10)
The Beauty of Baseball – a Year Without Pennant Races Still Gives Reasons to Listen
Wed, Sep 16 2009 08:16
| Sports Radio, Ernie Harwell, MLB, Bob Murphy, Tom Hamilton
| Permalink
I was looking at the baseball standings this morning--as I do every morning throughout the season--and a lamenting the fact that there are no pennant races to speak of with two-and-a-half weeks left until the end of the season. Oh sure, someone might make a late run--less likely, I suppose since the Mets aren't leading a division--but it certainly looks as if the division winners will be the Yankees, Tigers, Angels, Phillies, Cardinals and Dodgers with the Red Sox and Rockies as the wild cards.
That's a shame, because there is nothing quite like the day-to-day suspense of the last couple of weeks of a real pennant race, emotions sliding up and down the scale on an almost inning-by-inning basis. One of my most vivid baseball memories is being in Boston in 1978 on a vacation in mid-September while the Yankees and Red Sox were staging their historic race that culminated in the "Bucky bleeping Dent," game on my mother's birthday that October.
I was a year out of college and was the cops and courts reporter in Prince George's County, Maryland for The Post. I took a few days off to visit two friends who were in law school and business school in Boston. Every night we watched the Red Sox and found a radio to pick up the Yankees on the radio. On a Sunday afternoon we went sightseeing, driving up to see Salem and Gloucester. We listened to both games on the radio--I'm not exactly sure how we got the Yankees signal in the afternoon, but we did--switching back and forth constantly. My friends were both Red Sox fans. Being a Mets fan, I was just a spectator, but loved every second of it.
I also remember devouring the Boston papers every morning. There wasn't an aspect of the race that wasn't covered in great detail. When I got back to Washington I walked into George Solomon's office. He was the sports editor and I was still doing a lot of work for sports even though I was on the Metro staff. "You know what George," I said, still exhilarated by the week in Boston. "You just can't be a real sports town without a baseball team."
"Get out," Solomon said and went back to editing the seven "Skins prepare for Lions," stories the paper was running the next day.
I love college basketball, I love golf and I love football--preferably the college game. I'm a huge hockey fan and I still really like to watch tennis although covering it would make me nuts because the people involved in the sport--especially those who run it--are so completely clueless. As an old swimmer I enjoy watching swimming on almost any level and I can still get chills watching the Olympics on those rare moments when NBC isn't showing figure skating or gymnastics.
But there's nothing like baseball for me. My ex-wife once commented in a pejorative way that baseball was, "ubiquitous." That's exactly what I love about it. Tonight, I will be in my car driving back from New York. I do not have satellite radio simply because I'm too lazy to get around to having it put in my car. The other reason is that I know when I'm driving at night I can pick up the Mets, the Yankees, the Phillies, the Red Sox, the Orioles and, most nights, the White Sox on my radio if I'm anywhere on the east coast. If I venture into the midwest I can get the Pirates, the Indians, the Cardinals (who can sometimes be found on the east coast) the Tigers and the Cubs. Someone is always on.
And, even without serious pennant races, there's always good reason to listen. Two weekends ago, when I was in Ohio for the Navy-Ohio State game I listened to the Indians and Twins for a little while on Friday and for a long time on Saturday. My old friend Tom Hamilton does the Indians play-by-play and what was remarkable was that if you closed your eyes and just listened (not a great idea while driving) you'd have thought the Indians and Twins circa 2009 were the Yankees and Red Sox circa 1978. Tom was enthusiastic about the game itself, kept explaining why it was so important to the Twins and talked about the young players the Indians had in their lineup and what they hoped to see from them in 2010.
That's the other thing about baseball: even when the Indians are 18 games under .500, even when the Mets have collapsed, there is always the hope of spring training the next year. I know that's true of other sports but does anything feel quite like spring training. If you live, as most of us do, in a place where there is snow on the ground in February or at the very least it's damn cold, the site of baseball players pitching and catching in Florida and Arizona always makes us feel good. Our team is undefeated and warm weather can't be that far away if spring training has started.
Tonight I'll switch back and forth as I head down the New Jersey Turnpike. I'll listen to the Yankees for a while so that John Sterling can explain to me why A-Rod is really a good guy if you know him and so my old friend Suzyn Waldman can use the phrase, "our old friend," about 100 times. I'll switch over to the Mets and listen to Howie Rose subtly pick apart the team he and I both grew up loving and then I'll pick up the Phillies and the Orioles as I get closer to Washington. The trip--once I get out of Manhattan--will take about four hours. It won't feel nearly that long.
As I write this, Ernie Harwell has been diagnosed with cancer at the age of 92. No one ever broadcast baseball better than Ernie Harwell did--first with the Orioles long, long ago and then for years with the Tigers. Harwell always had that southern lilt to his voice and he knew exactly when to raise it and when not to. Unlike a lot of today's broadcasters he didn't scream about an RBI single in the first as if it was Kirk Gibson's home run in the '88 World Series.
He is also one of the nicest and most generous men I've ever met. When the Tigers management had the ridiculous notion that firing him after the 1991 season might be a good idea, Harwell never ripped the franchise publicly, even though he was hurt. It didn't take long--less than a season--for the Tigers to realize they'd made a mistake. That's no knock on Bob Rathbun and Rick Rizzs, his successors who were (and are) very solid baseball broadcasters. But there is only one Ernie Harwell and, fortunately, Tom Monaghan figured that out before the 1992 season was over.
I miss listening to Ernie. I still LOVE getting the chance to hear Vin Scully and I really miss Bob Murphy, who I grew up with as a Mets fan. Murph retired in, I think 2002, after doing Mets games for 40 years. On the night of his last broadcast I was giving a speech on the eastern shore of Maryland. When I was finished, I explained to the guy running the dinner that, while I'd like to stay and mingle, I HAD to get to my car and get home.
I was telling the truth--sort of. I had to get to my car so I could flip on WFAN and hear Murph's last call. The Mets lost 4-1 to the Pirates that night. I was on the Bay Bridge as the bottom of the ninth began. Murph's signature was always to say at the end of a Mets win, "we'll be back with the happy recap." It was pretty apparent there wasn't going to be a happy recap for Murph's final game. He knew it too. So, as the ninth began he said, "well, the Mets are going to need to rally here if there's going to be one last happy recap."
The Mets didn't rally. But I had a big smile on my face hearing Murph talk about the happy recap one last time.
And women wonder why all men cry when Kevin Costner says, "Hey dad...want to have a catch," at the end of "Field of Dreams."
That's a shame, because there is nothing quite like the day-to-day suspense of the last couple of weeks of a real pennant race, emotions sliding up and down the scale on an almost inning-by-inning basis. One of my most vivid baseball memories is being in Boston in 1978 on a vacation in mid-September while the Yankees and Red Sox were staging their historic race that culminated in the "Bucky bleeping Dent," game on my mother's birthday that October.
I was a year out of college and was the cops and courts reporter in Prince George's County, Maryland for The Post. I took a few days off to visit two friends who were in law school and business school in Boston. Every night we watched the Red Sox and found a radio to pick up the Yankees on the radio. On a Sunday afternoon we went sightseeing, driving up to see Salem and Gloucester. We listened to both games on the radio--I'm not exactly sure how we got the Yankees signal in the afternoon, but we did--switching back and forth constantly. My friends were both Red Sox fans. Being a Mets fan, I was just a spectator, but loved every second of it.
I also remember devouring the Boston papers every morning. There wasn't an aspect of the race that wasn't covered in great detail. When I got back to Washington I walked into George Solomon's office. He was the sports editor and I was still doing a lot of work for sports even though I was on the Metro staff. "You know what George," I said, still exhilarated by the week in Boston. "You just can't be a real sports town without a baseball team."
"Get out," Solomon said and went back to editing the seven "Skins prepare for Lions," stories the paper was running the next day.
I love college basketball, I love golf and I love football--preferably the college game. I'm a huge hockey fan and I still really like to watch tennis although covering it would make me nuts because the people involved in the sport--especially those who run it--are so completely clueless. As an old swimmer I enjoy watching swimming on almost any level and I can still get chills watching the Olympics on those rare moments when NBC isn't showing figure skating or gymnastics.
But there's nothing like baseball for me. My ex-wife once commented in a pejorative way that baseball was, "ubiquitous." That's exactly what I love about it. Tonight, I will be in my car driving back from New York. I do not have satellite radio simply because I'm too lazy to get around to having it put in my car. The other reason is that I know when I'm driving at night I can pick up the Mets, the Yankees, the Phillies, the Red Sox, the Orioles and, most nights, the White Sox on my radio if I'm anywhere on the east coast. If I venture into the midwest I can get the Pirates, the Indians, the Cardinals (who can sometimes be found on the east coast) the Tigers and the Cubs. Someone is always on.
And, even without serious pennant races, there's always good reason to listen. Two weekends ago, when I was in Ohio for the Navy-Ohio State game I listened to the Indians and Twins for a little while on Friday and for a long time on Saturday. My old friend Tom Hamilton does the Indians play-by-play and what was remarkable was that if you closed your eyes and just listened (not a great idea while driving) you'd have thought the Indians and Twins circa 2009 were the Yankees and Red Sox circa 1978. Tom was enthusiastic about the game itself, kept explaining why it was so important to the Twins and talked about the young players the Indians had in their lineup and what they hoped to see from them in 2010.
That's the other thing about baseball: even when the Indians are 18 games under .500, even when the Mets have collapsed, there is always the hope of spring training the next year. I know that's true of other sports but does anything feel quite like spring training. If you live, as most of us do, in a place where there is snow on the ground in February or at the very least it's damn cold, the site of baseball players pitching and catching in Florida and Arizona always makes us feel good. Our team is undefeated and warm weather can't be that far away if spring training has started.
Tonight I'll switch back and forth as I head down the New Jersey Turnpike. I'll listen to the Yankees for a while so that John Sterling can explain to me why A-Rod is really a good guy if you know him and so my old friend Suzyn Waldman can use the phrase, "our old friend," about 100 times. I'll switch over to the Mets and listen to Howie Rose subtly pick apart the team he and I both grew up loving and then I'll pick up the Phillies and the Orioles as I get closer to Washington. The trip--once I get out of Manhattan--will take about four hours. It won't feel nearly that long.
As I write this, Ernie Harwell has been diagnosed with cancer at the age of 92. No one ever broadcast baseball better than Ernie Harwell did--first with the Orioles long, long ago and then for years with the Tigers. Harwell always had that southern lilt to his voice and he knew exactly when to raise it and when not to. Unlike a lot of today's broadcasters he didn't scream about an RBI single in the first as if it was Kirk Gibson's home run in the '88 World Series.
He is also one of the nicest and most generous men I've ever met. When the Tigers management had the ridiculous notion that firing him after the 1991 season might be a good idea, Harwell never ripped the franchise publicly, even though he was hurt. It didn't take long--less than a season--for the Tigers to realize they'd made a mistake. That's no knock on Bob Rathbun and Rick Rizzs, his successors who were (and are) very solid baseball broadcasters. But there is only one Ernie Harwell and, fortunately, Tom Monaghan figured that out before the 1992 season was over.
I miss listening to Ernie. I still LOVE getting the chance to hear Vin Scully and I really miss Bob Murphy, who I grew up with as a Mets fan. Murph retired in, I think 2002, after doing Mets games for 40 years. On the night of his last broadcast I was giving a speech on the eastern shore of Maryland. When I was finished, I explained to the guy running the dinner that, while I'd like to stay and mingle, I HAD to get to my car and get home.
I was telling the truth--sort of. I had to get to my car so I could flip on WFAN and hear Murph's last call. The Mets lost 4-1 to the Pirates that night. I was on the Bay Bridge as the bottom of the ninth began. Murph's signature was always to say at the end of a Mets win, "we'll be back with the happy recap." It was pretty apparent there wasn't going to be a happy recap for Murph's final game. He knew it too. So, as the ninth began he said, "well, the Mets are going to need to rally here if there's going to be one last happy recap."
The Mets didn't rally. But I had a big smile on my face hearing Murph talk about the happy recap one last time.
And women wonder why all men cry when Kevin Costner says, "Hey dad...want to have a catch," at the end of "Field of Dreams."
Comments (2)
Side Stories of September Baseball; Quick Re-Analysis of Big East
September baseball has always fascinated me. I'm not talking about the pennant races, which everyone takes an interest in, but the side stories--which team has a September call-up who may play a critical role next year; which managers or general managers may be in trouble; what teams that aren't in contention have--nonetheless--made real progress. There's more time than usual to pay attention to those stories this year since the pennant races--wild cards aside--are all but over even with almost four weeks left to play.
On Monday, as I noted here yesterday, the Pittsburgh Pirates clinched a record-breaking 17th straight losing season. Last night, in Boston, the Baltimore Orioles, another once proud franchise, clinched a 12th straight losing season. The Kansas City Royals continue to be awful year in and year out which makes Zack Greinke's performance all the more remarkable. If Greinke was with any kind of decent team he would either have 20 wins by now or be closing in on 20 wins. Except for one brief stretch in the summer, he has been brilliant almost every time out. He's 13-8 with a 2.22 ERA which means if he was pitching in The National League his ERA might very well be under two runs a game. It will be interesting to see if Greinke (who is only 25) wins The Cy Young Award with 15 or 16 wins or if Mariano Rivera, who has also been amazing all year, wins it. Anyone else winning it would be a crime.
There's more: the complete demise of the Mets. Yes, injuries have played a huge role, but it isn't that simple. Omar Minaya has made one mistake after another and it’s pretty clear the players don't have a lot of respect for Jerry Manuel. Often they don't play hard and more often they just play dumb. A couple of Saturdays ago a potential big inning was broken up in Chicago when Fernando Tatis tried to score from third--after initially stopping--when a ball thrown from the outfield rolled loose for a moment. He was out by 10 feet with NO ONE out. Tim McCarver, doing the game on Fox, made the point that a play like that has nothing to do with injuries. Plays like that happen to the Mets all the time.
The Cardinals are having a superb season; the Cubs have collapsed meaning their fans don't have to watch them collapse in October this year; the Phillies have lots of power but pitching that looks too shaky (especially Brad Lidge) to win it all again and Ozzie Guillen says the White Sox' mediocrity is his fault. The Rays made a run but have dropped back and the Rangers have been a pleasant surprise. The Orioles and Nationals are both building future hopes around young pitching although the Orioles kids look a lot more solid than the Nationals kids right now although Stephen Strasburg's arrival could change that equation.
And then there are the Yankees. Since the All-Star break they have been virtually unbeatable. Night after night they find a different way to win. A.J. Burnett went more than a month without a win and it didn't matter. C.C. Sabbathia has earned his millions the last couple of months and Andy Pettite has looked more like 27 than 37. Rivera is simply the eighth wonder of the world and both Derek Jeter and Mark Texeira have had MVP-like seasons.
Even so, none of it is going to matter if they don't win--and I don't mean the division series--in October. They haven't won a World Series since 2000 or a pennant since 2003. In fact, they haven't won a postseason SERIES since the Collapse of '04. To say that memories of that disaster linger in New York is like saying The French remember Waterloo. Jeter is going to pass Lou Gehrig on the career hits list very shortly--isn't it amazing the Yankees have NEVER had a guy with 3,000 hits?--and Alex Rodriguez has managed to stay out of headlines since his spring outings as a steroids user. The new Yankee Stadium has been full most of the summer after being half empty for much of the spring.
All good. But if the Red Sox show up for the ALCS, there are going to be some seriously frayed nerves in New York. The irony in this is inescapable. For years, all Red Sox fans cringed every time a team with "NY," on the uniform showed up. The Red Sox were the coyote and the Yankees were the roadrunner. Sooner or later the anvil came down on the Red Sox head. That all changed during those four remarkable evenings in '04 and now the anvil is on the other head. Oh sure, the Yankees won the division in '05 and '06--the Red Sox not making the playoffs--but the Red Sox added a second World Series title in '07 and almost won another pennant last year. In postseason series the last five seasons the Yankees are 1-4, the Red Sox are 7-2.
Ouch.
As someone who grew up a Mets fan I am supposed to hate the Yankees. I don't. A lot of people criticize them for spending so much money but the owners I think are really evil are the ones who spend NO money and leave their fans to live through one losing season after another. The Yankees--love them or hate them---are good for baseball. They sell out ballparks and drive TV ratings up. Yes, I get tired of all the Yankees-Red Sox hype (thank you once again four letter network for leading that charge) and SOMEONE ought to make John Sterling cool it with the corny home run calls, especially the "A-bomb from A-Rod." A-bombs are not a topic that should be brought up as part of sports. Too many people died because of them.
But you can't NOT respect Jeter, Rivera and Jorge Posada or the demeanor in that clubhouse most of the time. I hate the way Joe Torre was treated but he brought class and dignity to the team for 12 years. Torre gets it like few people get it in sports. A couple of years ago I was interviewing him during spring training while researching, "Living on the Black." My cell phone began ringing. I started to turn it off, then saw it was my son, who I had been trying to reach. "Joe, can you give me one second," I said. "It's my son and I need to talk to him."
Torre just smiled. "I know how that feels," he said. "I've done this long enough that I can pick up in mid-anecdote." Which is exactly what he did.
I may not like the Yankees but I respect them. I wish there was a salary cap in baseball--and a salary floor--so the Yankees couldn't spend more than $125 million on payroll and the Rays and Pirates had to spend at least $75 million. THAT'S the problem, not the Yankees.
Having said all of that, even being as sick and tired as I sometimes get of Yankees-Red Sox, I'd love to see them play in October if only to see all my friends who are Yankees fans walking around looking a little green while the series is going on. Because believe me, if they somehow get up 3-0, they won't feel comfortable.
*** ***
A number of people wrote in responding to my Washington Post column on the wonders of ACC football Monday, commenting that it was unfair of me to lump The Big East with the ACC. Upon further review, they're right. I think The Big East was down last year and isn't that good this year, but its record the last several years is far better than the ACC's--especially in BCS bowls, most notably the West Virginia win over Georgia and Louisville's victory in The Fiesta Bowl. So, I stand corrected--the ACC stands alone when it comes to true mediocrity in the BCS conferences no matter how entertaining the Miami-Florida State game was on Monday night.
On Monday, as I noted here yesterday, the Pittsburgh Pirates clinched a record-breaking 17th straight losing season. Last night, in Boston, the Baltimore Orioles, another once proud franchise, clinched a 12th straight losing season. The Kansas City Royals continue to be awful year in and year out which makes Zack Greinke's performance all the more remarkable. If Greinke was with any kind of decent team he would either have 20 wins by now or be closing in on 20 wins. Except for one brief stretch in the summer, he has been brilliant almost every time out. He's 13-8 with a 2.22 ERA which means if he was pitching in The National League his ERA might very well be under two runs a game. It will be interesting to see if Greinke (who is only 25) wins The Cy Young Award with 15 or 16 wins or if Mariano Rivera, who has also been amazing all year, wins it. Anyone else winning it would be a crime.
There's more: the complete demise of the Mets. Yes, injuries have played a huge role, but it isn't that simple. Omar Minaya has made one mistake after another and it’s pretty clear the players don't have a lot of respect for Jerry Manuel. Often they don't play hard and more often they just play dumb. A couple of Saturdays ago a potential big inning was broken up in Chicago when Fernando Tatis tried to score from third--after initially stopping--when a ball thrown from the outfield rolled loose for a moment. He was out by 10 feet with NO ONE out. Tim McCarver, doing the game on Fox, made the point that a play like that has nothing to do with injuries. Plays like that happen to the Mets all the time.
The Cardinals are having a superb season; the Cubs have collapsed meaning their fans don't have to watch them collapse in October this year; the Phillies have lots of power but pitching that looks too shaky (especially Brad Lidge) to win it all again and Ozzie Guillen says the White Sox' mediocrity is his fault. The Rays made a run but have dropped back and the Rangers have been a pleasant surprise. The Orioles and Nationals are both building future hopes around young pitching although the Orioles kids look a lot more solid than the Nationals kids right now although Stephen Strasburg's arrival could change that equation.
And then there are the Yankees. Since the All-Star break they have been virtually unbeatable. Night after night they find a different way to win. A.J. Burnett went more than a month without a win and it didn't matter. C.C. Sabbathia has earned his millions the last couple of months and Andy Pettite has looked more like 27 than 37. Rivera is simply the eighth wonder of the world and both Derek Jeter and Mark Texeira have had MVP-like seasons.
Even so, none of it is going to matter if they don't win--and I don't mean the division series--in October. They haven't won a World Series since 2000 or a pennant since 2003. In fact, they haven't won a postseason SERIES since the Collapse of '04. To say that memories of that disaster linger in New York is like saying The French remember Waterloo. Jeter is going to pass Lou Gehrig on the career hits list very shortly--isn't it amazing the Yankees have NEVER had a guy with 3,000 hits?--and Alex Rodriguez has managed to stay out of headlines since his spring outings as a steroids user. The new Yankee Stadium has been full most of the summer after being half empty for much of the spring.
All good. But if the Red Sox show up for the ALCS, there are going to be some seriously frayed nerves in New York. The irony in this is inescapable. For years, all Red Sox fans cringed every time a team with "NY," on the uniform showed up. The Red Sox were the coyote and the Yankees were the roadrunner. Sooner or later the anvil came down on the Red Sox head. That all changed during those four remarkable evenings in '04 and now the anvil is on the other head. Oh sure, the Yankees won the division in '05 and '06--the Red Sox not making the playoffs--but the Red Sox added a second World Series title in '07 and almost won another pennant last year. In postseason series the last five seasons the Yankees are 1-4, the Red Sox are 7-2.
Ouch.
As someone who grew up a Mets fan I am supposed to hate the Yankees. I don't. A lot of people criticize them for spending so much money but the owners I think are really evil are the ones who spend NO money and leave their fans to live through one losing season after another. The Yankees--love them or hate them---are good for baseball. They sell out ballparks and drive TV ratings up. Yes, I get tired of all the Yankees-Red Sox hype (thank you once again four letter network for leading that charge) and SOMEONE ought to make John Sterling cool it with the corny home run calls, especially the "A-bomb from A-Rod." A-bombs are not a topic that should be brought up as part of sports. Too many people died because of them.
But you can't NOT respect Jeter, Rivera and Jorge Posada or the demeanor in that clubhouse most of the time. I hate the way Joe Torre was treated but he brought class and dignity to the team for 12 years. Torre gets it like few people get it in sports. A couple of years ago I was interviewing him during spring training while researching, "Living on the Black." My cell phone began ringing. I started to turn it off, then saw it was my son, who I had been trying to reach. "Joe, can you give me one second," I said. "It's my son and I need to talk to him."
Torre just smiled. "I know how that feels," he said. "I've done this long enough that I can pick up in mid-anecdote." Which is exactly what he did.
I may not like the Yankees but I respect them. I wish there was a salary cap in baseball--and a salary floor--so the Yankees couldn't spend more than $125 million on payroll and the Rays and Pirates had to spend at least $75 million. THAT'S the problem, not the Yankees.
Having said all of that, even being as sick and tired as I sometimes get of Yankees-Red Sox, I'd love to see them play in October if only to see all my friends who are Yankees fans walking around looking a little green while the series is going on. Because believe me, if they somehow get up 3-0, they won't feel comfortable.
*** ***
A number of people wrote in responding to my Washington Post column on the wonders of ACC football Monday, commenting that it was unfair of me to lump The Big East with the ACC. Upon further review, they're right. I think The Big East was down last year and isn't that good this year, but its record the last several years is far better than the ACC's--especially in BCS bowls, most notably the West Virginia win over Georgia and Louisville's victory in The Fiesta Bowl. So, I stand corrected--the ACC stands alone when it comes to true mediocrity in the BCS conferences no matter how entertaining the Miami-Florida State game was on Monday night.
Comments (2)
The Record-Breaking Pirates -- a Real Shame
Tue, Sep 8 2009 09:57
| Pittsburgh Pirates, Jim Palmer, Barry Bonds, MLB, Willie Stargell, Jim Leyland
| Permalink
In most newspapers around the country this morning it was a note that rate one paragraph, perhaps two: The Pittsburgh Pirates became the first professional franchise in the history of the United States to have 17 consecutive losing seasons when they lost on Monday to the Chicago Cubs.
There’s a bit of irony that the loss would come against the Cubs who have gone 100 years without winning a World Series and a mere 64 without getting to The World Series. No doubt that will cheer people up in Pittsburgh a great deal.
It is amazing that the Pirates have fallen as far as they have fallen and then stayed bad for so long. I mean even the Tampa Bay Rays finally pieced together a pennant winning team after years of high draft picks and they did it playing in one of the most God-awful stadiums ever created.
The Pirates play in an absolutely gorgeous ballpark. They play in a town with great tradition and extraordinarily loyal fans. My guess is if they ever popped back into contention people would pack PNC Park to witness their rebirth.
But there is no sign at all of that happening. The Pirates keep trading players for prospects every year, claiming that they’re going to rebuild through youth. The problem is, whenever that youth begins to develop, they trade it in order to avoid arbitration or re-signing someone before they become a free agent.
A couple of times there have been glimmers. In 2007, the Pirates had three young pitchers who appeared to have the potential to be the core of a decent team in Paul Maholm, Mike Gorzelanny and Ian Snell. Only Maholm remains and his ERA lingers near the five runs per nine inning mark. Of course it is tough to pitch consistently when your defense is lousy and you know most nights you have to hold the other team to under three runs to have any chance to win.
A year ago, after playing fairly well in the first half of the season the Pirates traded Xavier Nady and Jason Bay, two established, productive outfielders in return for a bunch of prospects. Neither Nady nor Bay was going to be a free agent at the end of 2008 so if they had stuck around this season along with some of the other players the Pirates unloaded—including their one true franchise player, Jack Wilson—this year, they might have had a chance to at least end the sub-.500 streak.
But they’re gone and, worst of all, hope is gone in Pittsburgh. I find that sad. I remember the great Pirate teams of the 70s—the one that won The World Series in 1971 when Roberto Clemente put on one of the great performances of all time against the Orioles—and then the Willie Stargell-led group that came from 3-1 down to again beat the Orioles, winning the last two games in Baltimore.
That was the first World Series I covered and the Pirates were a fun team to be around. Chuck Tanner, the manager, was a great talker and so were Stargell and Manny Sanguillen. It was a fun clubhouse.
That World Series also produced one of my more humiliating moments. After the Pirates won game six, 4-0, I was assigned to the Orioles clubhouse. Jim Palmer had pitched very well even though he had lost and he was the natural sidebar. When Palmer came out to his locker, everyone waiting for him kind of hesitated. No one wants to ask the first question and get barked at by a frustrated player.
But it was late and I was on deadline. I walked over to Palmer, who I had talked to in locker room situations in the past but only as part of a group. I introduced myself.
“What do you need?” Palmer asked.
The rule in those situations is always ask an easy question first. You don’t start by asking what pitch the guy threw on the game-winning homer. So, knowing he had pitched well, I threw a softball: “How’d you feel out there?” I figured the answer would be something about having good stuff, only making a couple mistakes and so on. I was wrong.
“HOW DO I FEEL?” Palmer screamed. “HOW DO I FEEL? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I JUST LOST THE SIXTH GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES AND YOU COME IN HERE AND ASK ME HOW I FEEL?”
He looked at the other writers who had started to gather around his locker after I walked up and said, “How does a guy like this even get in here?” With that he stormed off to the training room while I kept trying to say that I hadn’t asked how he felt NOW but how he felt on the mound.
Doug DeCinces, who lockered a few feet away, looked at me and said: “Don’t feel bad. I heard what you asked.”
I appreciated that but now I had a bunch of deadline-pressed guys standing around me wanting to know what the hell I was thinking getting Palmer so angry. A few minutes later, Palmer came back. My old friend and mentor Bill Millsaps, from The Richmond Times-Dispatch, said quietly, “Okay Jim, let’s try this again: How did you feel while pitching tonight?”
Palmer never looked at me but he answered the question and all the others he was asked. Years later, when he became an Orioles TV analyst, I reminded him of the story and we both laughed about it. I think he forgave me because he liked my golf books.
I also covered the Pirates last winning team, the 1992 team—Barry Bonds’ last year in Pittsburgh—that lost a 2-1 lead in game seven of the National League Championship Series against the Atlanta Braves and ultimately lost 3-2 on a pinch-hit, two runs single by Francisco Cabrera. I was working on my first baseball book, “Play Ball,” that year and spent a lot of time with Jim Leyland.
Leyland was amazingly open and cooperative with me during the season—I still remember him telling me in spring training that year that Bobby Bonilla would never be able to handle the pressure in New York; boy did he have that right—and I was really torn throughout that series. The Braves were a fabulous group to deal with—Bobby Cox, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Terry Pendleton and company were about as easy a group to be around as you could ask for. The Pirates had good guys too, but they also had Bonds who was a world class jerk even then.
So, when Cabrera got the hit and Sid Bream slid home with the winning run, I was happy for the Braves, but felt terrible for Leyland. Since I wasn’t on deadline, I sat with him in his office until everyone else had left. He finally looked at me and said in a choked voice: “My God this is so hard.”
Five years later, he finally got his World Series ring but he was in Miami by then and the Pirates were in a free fall that shows no sign of ending anytime soon. I think Pittsburgh is a great town, I always enjoy myself up there and love going to the ballpark. But it is depressingly empty these days and there is no sign that there will be any reason for it to be filled again anytime soon.
Which is truly a shame.
There’s a bit of irony that the loss would come against the Cubs who have gone 100 years without winning a World Series and a mere 64 without getting to The World Series. No doubt that will cheer people up in Pittsburgh a great deal.
It is amazing that the Pirates have fallen as far as they have fallen and then stayed bad for so long. I mean even the Tampa Bay Rays finally pieced together a pennant winning team after years of high draft picks and they did it playing in one of the most God-awful stadiums ever created.
The Pirates play in an absolutely gorgeous ballpark. They play in a town with great tradition and extraordinarily loyal fans. My guess is if they ever popped back into contention people would pack PNC Park to witness their rebirth.
But there is no sign at all of that happening. The Pirates keep trading players for prospects every year, claiming that they’re going to rebuild through youth. The problem is, whenever that youth begins to develop, they trade it in order to avoid arbitration or re-signing someone before they become a free agent.
A couple of times there have been glimmers. In 2007, the Pirates had three young pitchers who appeared to have the potential to be the core of a decent team in Paul Maholm, Mike Gorzelanny and Ian Snell. Only Maholm remains and his ERA lingers near the five runs per nine inning mark. Of course it is tough to pitch consistently when your defense is lousy and you know most nights you have to hold the other team to under three runs to have any chance to win.
A year ago, after playing fairly well in the first half of the season the Pirates traded Xavier Nady and Jason Bay, two established, productive outfielders in return for a bunch of prospects. Neither Nady nor Bay was going to be a free agent at the end of 2008 so if they had stuck around this season along with some of the other players the Pirates unloaded—including their one true franchise player, Jack Wilson—this year, they might have had a chance to at least end the sub-.500 streak.
But they’re gone and, worst of all, hope is gone in Pittsburgh. I find that sad. I remember the great Pirate teams of the 70s—the one that won The World Series in 1971 when Roberto Clemente put on one of the great performances of all time against the Orioles—and then the Willie Stargell-led group that came from 3-1 down to again beat the Orioles, winning the last two games in Baltimore.
That was the first World Series I covered and the Pirates were a fun team to be around. Chuck Tanner, the manager, was a great talker and so were Stargell and Manny Sanguillen. It was a fun clubhouse.
That World Series also produced one of my more humiliating moments. After the Pirates won game six, 4-0, I was assigned to the Orioles clubhouse. Jim Palmer had pitched very well even though he had lost and he was the natural sidebar. When Palmer came out to his locker, everyone waiting for him kind of hesitated. No one wants to ask the first question and get barked at by a frustrated player.
But it was late and I was on deadline. I walked over to Palmer, who I had talked to in locker room situations in the past but only as part of a group. I introduced myself.
“What do you need?” Palmer asked.
The rule in those situations is always ask an easy question first. You don’t start by asking what pitch the guy threw on the game-winning homer. So, knowing he had pitched well, I threw a softball: “How’d you feel out there?” I figured the answer would be something about having good stuff, only making a couple mistakes and so on. I was wrong.
“HOW DO I FEEL?” Palmer screamed. “HOW DO I FEEL? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I JUST LOST THE SIXTH GAME OF THE WORLD SERIES AND YOU COME IN HERE AND ASK ME HOW I FEEL?”
He looked at the other writers who had started to gather around his locker after I walked up and said, “How does a guy like this even get in here?” With that he stormed off to the training room while I kept trying to say that I hadn’t asked how he felt NOW but how he felt on the mound.
Doug DeCinces, who lockered a few feet away, looked at me and said: “Don’t feel bad. I heard what you asked.”
I appreciated that but now I had a bunch of deadline-pressed guys standing around me wanting to know what the hell I was thinking getting Palmer so angry. A few minutes later, Palmer came back. My old friend and mentor Bill Millsaps, from The Richmond Times-Dispatch, said quietly, “Okay Jim, let’s try this again: How did you feel while pitching tonight?”
Palmer never looked at me but he answered the question and all the others he was asked. Years later, when he became an Orioles TV analyst, I reminded him of the story and we both laughed about it. I think he forgave me because he liked my golf books.
I also covered the Pirates last winning team, the 1992 team—Barry Bonds’ last year in Pittsburgh—that lost a 2-1 lead in game seven of the National League Championship Series against the Atlanta Braves and ultimately lost 3-2 on a pinch-hit, two runs single by Francisco Cabrera. I was working on my first baseball book, “Play Ball,” that year and spent a lot of time with Jim Leyland.
Leyland was amazingly open and cooperative with me during the season—I still remember him telling me in spring training that year that Bobby Bonilla would never be able to handle the pressure in New York; boy did he have that right—and I was really torn throughout that series. The Braves were a fabulous group to deal with—Bobby Cox, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Terry Pendleton and company were about as easy a group to be around as you could ask for. The Pirates had good guys too, but they also had Bonds who was a world class jerk even then.
So, when Cabrera got the hit and Sid Bream slid home with the winning run, I was happy for the Braves, but felt terrible for Leyland. Since I wasn’t on deadline, I sat with him in his office until everyone else had left. He finally looked at me and said in a choked voice: “My God this is so hard.”
Five years later, he finally got his World Series ring but he was in Miami by then and the Pirates were in a free fall that shows no sign of ending anytime soon. I think Pittsburgh is a great town, I always enjoy myself up there and love going to the ballpark. But it is depressingly empty these days and there is no sign that there will be any reason for it to be filled again anytime soon.
Which is truly a shame.
Comments (8)
John's Monday Washington Post Article...
Mon, Aug 10 2009 03:28
| Washington Post, MLB, steroids
| Permalink
Here's my column for the Washington Post today....
Every time another baseball player is unmasked as a steroid user, three things are guaranteed to happen:
Every time another baseball player is unmasked as a steroid user, three things are guaranteed to happen:
- the player will say he is shocked -- shocked -- to learn he has ingested a banned substance;
- the players' union will get in a snit about the test results being leaked;
- most people in baseball, fans and media and officials alike, will roll their eyes and say, "Please make this story go away."
Click here for the rest of the story - First Step for Baseball: Admit You Have a Problem
Comments (2)
Time for Players Union to Decide to Out the Rest of the List, They Owe it to Non-Cheaters
Fri, Jul 31 2009 05:21
| Paul Goydos, MLB, steroids
| Permalink
I had hope this morning to write about my friend Paul Goydos. Yesterday marked the 16th anniversary of the day we met during the first round of The Buick Open. Paul was a tour rookie—and so was I—I’d just started researching, “A Good Walk Spoiled.” He shot 66 on Thursday afternoon and was brought to the interview room because his was the only low score among the late starters. Bored, killing time before I met someone for dinner, I wandered into the interview room.
The first thing I had head Paul say was, “I’m sure most of you have never heard of me. There’s a reason for that: I’ve never done anything.”
The next 15 minutes were filled with dry, self-deprecating one liners. “I play best when I get my slice going. I know on the PGA Tour you’re supposed to call it a fade but if you hit a seven iron and it goes 20 yards to the right, it’s a slice.”
Since I was looking for players at all levels who had stories to tell, I introduced myself to Paul when he was finished and explained that I was writing a book about life on the tour. “I’ll give you all the time you want,” he said. “But you’re wasting your time doing a book on golf. No one’s going to buy it.”
We still joke about how fortunate I was that he wasn’t my agent.
There’s more—he’s been a fascinating character to know and follow since then—but I have to save it for another day. Like everyone else in sports I’m trapped today (again) by the subject of baseball and steroids.
To say, ‘here we go again,’ doesn’t begin to describe how completely out of control this whole mess is—and has been for a good long while now. The latest revelation is one of the good guys, David Ortiz. The New York Times also nailed Manny Ramirez yesterday for testing positive during the so-called ‘secret,’ testing of 2003 but that’s now old news since Ramirez has already been suspended this year.
As I’ve said before, everyone’s guilty in this and yesterday was evidence of that once again. There was union chief Don Fehr once again wanting to shoot the messenger, expressing anger at the fact that Ramirez and Ortiz’s names were leaked. I’ve always respected Fehr but on the issue of drugs he has done massive damage to baseball by taking the approach that this is a privacy issue. It’s NOT. There are some jobs in the world—airline pilot, law enforcement official to name two—where drug-testing in today’s world must be mandatory. Is it constitutional when we’re all practically strip searched trying to get on an airplane? Hell no. But it is absolutely necessary.
The same’s true in professional sports. Drug use is epidemic in every sport you can possibly think of and, unless you just want to throw your hands up and say, ‘go ahead and cheat AND jeopardize your health,’ you HAVE to drug test. In fact, pro athletes need to be blood-tested because I guarantee you HGH (Human Growth Hormone) is now the drug of choice because it can’t be detected by urinalysis.
While Fehr was spluttering the TV talking heads gathered to cluck and shake their heads and wish this wouldn’t happen. But they STILL won’t take on the players. There was my pal Tim Kirkijian on ESPN saying, “I don’t think one positive test necessarily proves you’ve been doing it your whole career.”
Come on Timmy, one thing we know is that one positive test means for damn sure that the player—whomever it was—didn’t try the drugs ONCE. NONE of these guys and I mean none of them should be allowed to set foot in The Hall of Fame. Ramirez sits there and arrogantly says that he and Ortiz are, “mountains,” and that, “we’ll just keep hitting.” You do that Manny, but I swear you shouldn’t be allowed into Cooperstown even if you buy a ticket. You and the rest of the cheaters.
The fans are guilty too. Everyone is against steroid use EXCEPT if it’s one of their guys who is producing for them. Barry Bonds was cheered in San Francisco until the day he finally went away. (He’s never retired as far as I know). Thursday in Boston Ortiz got a curtain-call standing ovation after a three run homer. Then he put out a strange statement saying he was “surprised,” to learn he’d tested positive. Who is this guy Inspector Renaud in Casablanca? He’s SHOCKED to learn he’s been taking steroids?
Baseball needs to release the remaining names among the 103 who tested positive in ’03. For one thing, it isn’t fair to Alex Rodriguez, Sammy Sosa, David Segui (a really bad guy by the way) Ortiz and Ramirez that their names have been leaked and not the others. Other names will continue to dribble out and we’ll have endless speculation on who did and did not test positive until the names are released.
This is one time when Bud Selig needs to get in a room with Fehr, much the same way he did in 2005 after the embarrassment of the McGwire-Sosa-Palemeiro-Schilling-Canseco Congressional hearing and say, ‘Don, we’re drowning here. Enough with the self-righteous right-to-privacy crap,’ He needs to shout this to the highest roof tops and he needs to do one other thing: pressure the players to tell the union to release the names.
Right now the players who are clean—who are still a majority—should be losing their minds that this is still going on. They should be screaming at Fehr and the rest of the union, ‘OUT THEM ALL. ENOUGH. WE'RE DONE WITH THIS!”
That was a big part of the problem when all this began. The non-users, the good guys, let the bad guys go free because they let Fehr and Gene Orza make this into a privacy issue rather than an issue of CHEATING. How can any of them now in good conscience sit back and say, ‘yeah we’re upset this got leaked,’ rather than saying, ‘this needs to end NOW. Out ‘em all and let’s try to move on from there.’
I still remember the day the Mitchell Report came out. I was finishing writing, “Living on the Black.” I had talked to both Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina about steroid use during the season and they had each estimated that at least 25 percent and maybe a lot more of the guys they’d played with had used performance-enhancing drugs at some point. Of course they couldn’t go on the record and name names.
Now, names had been named and I called them both. Neither expressed surprise about any name that was on the list. In fact, Glavine said this: “I’m more surprised by some of the names NOT on the list than by the names ON the list.”
That says it all doesn’t it? For all the names that has been revealed, we’ve probably only hit the tip of the iceberg. And, as long as people stonewall or cluck about how this doesn’t prove all that much or cheer cheaters because they’re producing, it’s just going to go on and on and on.
And I’ve got so many funny Paul Goydos stories to tell.
Comments (4)
Rant Against All-Star Game
So, raise your hand if you stayed up until the end of the All-Star game last night.
My hand isn’t up. When they started the top of the fifth inning at 10 o’clock on the east coast that was enough for me. The good news is the best part of the game—the player introductions and President Obama throwing out the first pitch—came at the beginning so I was still awake for that.
My friend Tom Boswell wrote in The Washington Post this morning about what a great extravaganza the All-Star break has become. While conceding their might be some commercial excess involved (might?) Bos harkened back to the days when the All-Star game was just, well, a game with a lot of stars involved.
I guess I’m just an old curmudgeon but I liked that. I certainly don’t need the hokie Home Run Derby or, for that matter, the rookie stars game. I’d rather see the kids playing in the minor leagues or in spring training than in some hyped up exhibition game where every parent, brother, sister gets interviewed because no one really wants to watch the game.
I like the tradition that the All-Star game stands for and the fact that, unlike in All-Star games in other sports where the only real goal is not to get hurt, the players do actually try to win the game.
But My God how long did that game take? I haven’t even looked it up, but I swear the commercials between innings lasted about 10 minutes each. At least it felt that way. One of the things that’s nice about baseball is that there is no clock, that the game moves along at its own pace. But when you feel as if the commercials are longer than the half-innings, that’s out of control.
I know sponsors pay the freight but the people running sports need to re-think some of this. The NCAA basketball tournament, for all its inherent drama, has lost all flow and rhythm because there are so many TV time outs and each of them takes so long. Every game in the tournament comes to a dead stop for a 20 minute halftime. Then, when play resumes, there are usually two three-minute stoppages in the first five minutes: one the regularly scheduled TV time out and one the first timeout taken by a team that becomes a full time out. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
The NFL is just as bad with five time outs required per quarter. How much fun is it when a team scores and there’s a commercial, followed by a kickoff and ANOTHER commercial. Some of these smart, highly-paid people need to figure out some creative ways to give the sponsors their money’s worth without making every game played take longer than a trip through the Lincoln Tunnel at rush hour.
Okay, enough ranting for one day. Real baseball returns tomorrow. Finally.
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I Hate the All-Star Break; Nationals make 60s Mets Look Competent
I hate the All-Star break.
Three straight days without a single baseball game to watch? No standings to check? No probable pitchers? There’s just nothing worse on the sports calendar all year.
Please don’t talk to me about the ridiculous Home Run Derby or any of the other over-hyped events around the All-Star game. I’m not even knocking the game itself, I’m old enough to remember when it was played in the afternoon and was a big enough deal that The National League often had Willie Mays leadoff to get him extra at-bats.
But now it’s played in the middle of the night no the east coast and the pre-game introductions may be longer than the game. Plus, I don’t care how many times Bud Selig and Fox tell me, “this one counts,” or whatever their slogan is, it’s an exhibition game. Has the All-Star game had memorable moments? Sure: Reggie Jackson’s home run off the lights in Detroit; Pete Rose barreling into Ray Fosse; Ted Williams being introduced in Boston. But do we really want to sit around for four hours hoping to see a moment?
Not me.
I want a game that counts in the standings, affects ERA’s and batting averages. It doesn’t even have to be a pennant race game, just let it be REAL.
I realize that whining about three days without baseball sounds silly. But one of the great things about baseball is that it is
ALWAYS there. Once the season begins in April, someone is playing every night. Even if you don’t sit down and watch a game on a given day, there are box scores and standings to check in the morning.
At least in the old days when the All-Star break mercifully concluded, you were flooded with games on Thursday. Often teams would start the second half of the season by making up rainouts and there would be a half-dozen twi-night doubleheaders. Being a Mets fan as a kid, I was always convinced they were going to start the second half by sweeping a twi-nighter and get on a roll. More often than not, they got swept and continued to roll downhill.
Now, only 16 of the 30 teams even play on Thursday. What, teams need a FOUR day break? Of course twi-nighters have gone the way of the Edsel, replaced by those heinous day-night doubleheaders that everyone except the owners can’t stand.
Here in Washington, things are so bad that if you go to MLB.com this morning to check out Thursday’s pitchers, the Nationals are supposedly starting Ross Detwiler. That’s all well and good, except he got sent down to Triple-A on Sunday.
This is how bad it is for baseball in Washington: The manager, as good a man as you;ll meet in any line of work, has just been fired. He’s been replaced by an interim manager, who was hired by the interim general manager and the listed starting pitched for Thursday is currently en route to Syracuse. The team’s record is 26-61.
These guys make my beloved Mets of the 60s look almost competent.
Of course those Mets emerged from the depths in their eighth season (1969) to write one of baseball’s all-time miracle stories when they won 100 games and shocked the seemingly unbeatable Orioles to win The World Series. I have a new kids mystery coming out in August (“Change-Up,”) that is set at The World Series. Because the book is fiction, I put the Nationals in The World Series, playing The Boston Red Sox.
At the time I wrote the book my editor said, “Are we pushing the envelope a little bit here putting the Nats in The World Series?”
I reminded her about the ’69 Mets and, for that matter, the 2008 Tampa Bay Rays. Having said that, I knew the Nats weren’t going to The World Series this year but I didn’t think they were going to tank this badly. In fact, since I like to use real people in my books to make the fiction read more like faction, Manny Acta makes a number of key managerial decisions during The World Series.
Oh well. I guess at this point I had better hope the Nationals haven’t been moved back to Montreal by the time the book comes out. Here’s one little bit of trivia for you: The Expos (now Nationals) made their debut in The National League in April of 1969 against the Mets at Shea Stadium.
The Mets had never won a season opener. But with Tom Seaver pitching against an expansion team I knew this was the year they were finally going to be 1-0. My buddy Marc Posnock and I were in the upper deck to be part of the celebration.
The Mets lost 11-10. I walked out of the stadium and said to Marc: “They will never EVER be any good.”
Call it my first sports prognostication. A little more than six months later, I was sitting in almost the same seats at Shea when Cleon Jones caught Davey Johnson’s fly ball (it was October 16th to be exact) and the Mets were world champions.
So Nats fans, remember two things: there’s always hope. And don’t look at me for predictions.
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