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As August wears on, it becomes increasingly difficult to write anything meaningful about baseball.
With the trade deadline behind us and division races becoming 1 or 2 team affairs, there just isn’t that much to say anymore. The MainStream Media tend to use this time to talk about the MVP and Cy Young award races, and the more intellectually inclined blogs start running flashy statistical analyses, and doing things like predicting play off teams and so forth. Us? We like to use this dull time to run pictures of A-Rod looking incredibly awkward. Today we present Constipated A-Rod. Try some fiber, Tipsy. (Again, hair, not alcohol).
Aside from poking fun at the reigning MVP, we’ve been casting about trying to find the latest example of a baseball player/manager/executive/etc. acting like a spoiled 4 year old. Well we didn’t find one. We found an entire union’s worth.
[The umpires' union] said their governing board voted Tuesday to boycott a conference call with management intended to discuss implementing replay, angry that their concerns aren’t being addressed.”
Now, even though the umpires finally relented, we can’t allow this sort of shenanigans to go uncommented upon. We should note that here at DTS we are baseball traditionalists. We generally like the human element involved in all aspects of the game, from stadium design and groundskeeping to umpiring, we like the fact that there is some leeway, some freedom, to implement your own standards. Of course when you leave these sorts of things in the hands of simple humans, you tend to get some remarkably horrendous results. (Blown calls on the base paths, missed balls and strikes, the Green Monster, and so on). Nevertheless, we consider these quirks an integral part of baseball. So we are naturally leery of the use of instant replay. (Besides, baseball games are long enough without the added time spent reviewing close plays). But we somehow find it a bit odd (and foolish, immature, ridiculous, idiotic, and typical of the men and women [yes, there are some] who inhabit the baseball universe) that the umpires would boycott a conference call discussing the use of instant replay because their concerns hadn’t been heard. Um, if you want your concerns heard, shouldn’t you join the conversation? What could possibly be gained from not taking part in the phone call? Why not simply say at the start of the call, “look we have some issues, we can either list them now and you can respond and we’ll move forward, or else we can pick another time to have this conversation. But until we have discussed our issues, we’re afraid we won’t be able to move on with the rest of the process.” Of course it’s absurd of us to expect that sort of maturity from a group of men who seem to think that people tune in to baseball games to watch umpires act like morons. It’s mind-blowing the the supposed arbiters of a game engage in such blatant acts of self-aggrandizement and attention-whoring. How is it in anyway appropriate for an umpire to get into a shouting match with a player or coach or manager? If the player/coach/manager is out of line, you should simply inform them that they have been ejected. But no, instead we see umpires calling players out, baiting them, essentially, and then having invited the player into a confrontation, tossing them out of the game. And when an understandably peeved manager comes out to inquire why exactly this referee has taken it upon himself to pick a fight with his player, the ump runs right up to him, chest puffed out, obscenities at the ready, and starts screaming in the manager’s face. It’s outrageous.
Look, we like a little theatricality from our umpires. The occasional big fist pump on a pivotal called third strike can be a fun moment in a game. But the big scenes the umpires kick up (both in games and out, as they did with this boycott) are frankly nothing short of pathetic displays of small men using the limited power they have to make themselves feel better. Of course, there are exceptions, mature umpires, cool-headed umpires who call a good game and act like adults. And to those umpires we say, bravo.
Ugh, that got us so worked up that we’re going to go make a collage of A-Rod’s hairstyles through the ages to calm down.
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You may have noticed that we don’t respect too many people here at DTS. 
There are exceptions (Jon Lester, D-Wright, Mike Piazza’s facial hair), but generally we tend to take the view that, for the most part, the world is made up of fools and tools. So it is particularly important that we give credit where it’s due. In that spirit, we present to you Will from Michigan. Apparently Michigan offers so little in the form of quality entertainment (told you we don’t respect much), that Will decided to take the time to actually write a well-worded and intelligent comment on this site. We’re going to post his comment here because we assume most of you lazy bastards don’t bother to click on the comments section:
When discussing Barry Bonds, the most frustrating part of his career was the 2001 season where he hit 73 home runs. While seeing Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Bonds reach numbers we never thought possible, I actually felt as though I was fully engulfed in baseball history. I thought it was the closest I would ever get to feeling the way the nation felt when DiMaggio was on his hit-streak. They completely robbed me of legitimate childhood memories. As far as I’m concerned, Roger Maris is the single season home run king, and Hammerin’ Hank is the career greatest. Seeing a player like Brett Favre is something we may never witness again, which is why I can’t wait to see him on the field again. Barry Bonds pulled the wool over my eyes for so long that I’m worried I’ll be skeptical of the next baseball great. Thankfully, Favre has taught me that it takes no skill to hustle and has made me keep the faith in the athletes of today.”
Yeah, yeah, OK, “Will,” so you’re right, Bonds, Mac, and Soso did pull the wool over our eyes, and yes we probably should have mentioned that while singing the praise of ol’ Bondsy boy, and yes, pointing out the feeling of historical importance that the home run feats of those three men evoked was apt, and yes the DiMaggio reference was clever and appropriate, and yes Barry’s use of steroids has forced us all to become far too cynical, and yes all this is something we probably should have talked about at least once during our campaign to get the Yankees to sign him, but…well fine we don’t really have a response. When you’re right, you’re right. So perhaps Barry’s exile from baseball is fitting punishment. But we can’t help but feel that Bonds is being treated just a little too harshly. Even now, we’d guess that Bonds is vastly less popular than Roger Clemens, even though Clemens used steroids, lied about using them and on top of that he seduced a teen age girl, cheated on his wife, and gave his kids all names that start with “K” because it stands for strike out. And yet Bonds is still baseball’s number one villain. It doesn’t seem entirely right. Anyway, hopefully you enjoyed your moment in the sun, Will, but keep posting comments that highlight issues we’ve neglected to cover and we’ll ban you from the site. (Who are we kidding, like we can afford to ban ANYONE from the site).
Anyway, you might be wondering why that picture of A-Rod adorns the top of this post. Well partly we just like to highlight how awkward Tipsy (that’s a comment on his hair style, not his drinking habits) is. But it also has some relevance to Will’s comment about becoming more inclined toward suspicion when it comes to outstanding athletes. We’ve certainly seen that play out during the Olympics, with Michael Phelps being tested over and over for any sort of illegal substance, and it seems to be true in all avenues of sport. Now, other than an unsupported claim by reality-TV star Jose Canseco, very little has been thrown A-Rod’s way in terms of steroid/HGH allegations, but that hasn’t prevented his accomplishments from being greeted with a certain degree of skepticism. It’s not much, just a very low murmur, but expect it to turn into a loud shout as soon as he comes within range of Bonds’ Aaron’s record. Call us naive, but we believe in Rodriguez, and hopefully he’ll turn out squeaky clean and shatter all important home run records, and we can just put this Bonds ugliness behind us. (Though if the Madonna rumors are true, we won’t have to worry about what will happen when he approaches the home run record, considering her track record of destroying the quality of the work of the men she’s with. Seriously, “Swept Away”? Really? After “Snatch”? Joe Girardi better do something. Soon.)
All the shenanigans surrounding the departure, return, departure, and arrival of Brett Favre got us thinking: would the retirement and subsequent return of one of the greatest baseball players of all time cause as big a stir as ol’ Gray Beard’s brief dalliance with unemployment. (Incidentally, don’t you think it was the prospect of having nothing but “Just for Men” ads to look forward to that finally brought Brett to his senses about retirement? I mean sure, as a QB he’s going to get pounded by more 300 pound men than a character on Oz, but at least he’ll get to keep his dignity). Back to the question at hand. Fortunately, we have the perfect example with which to examine this question. Sort of. We refer, as always, to Barry Bonds.
There are (as there are in all things related to the big double B) some complications. First of all, Bondsy didn’t choose retirement, he had retirement thrust upon him. Secondly, there’s that whole steroids thing, and that whole perjury indictment thing.
These complications aside, it is fair to say that at the end of the ‘07 season, one of the most accomplished players in the history of the NFL and one of the most accomplished players in the history of MLB departed their respective sports. As seen above, Brett Favre was given the opportunity to tearfully bid farewell to the sport he so loved, and that loved him back. His announcement was followed by countless highlight videos and tribute pieces. Bonds, on the other hand, was more or less ridden out of town, his departure announced not by himself, but by his team’s owner, who kindly informed him that his services were no longer required — not to his face of course, but by informing the media that the team would not be looking to resign Barry under any circumstances. Oh, and this announcement came before the ‘07 season had even concluded. Barry’s exile became all but assured after the Winter Meetings, when no team expressed interest in signing him. When the ‘08 season started, and it became quite clear that Barry Bonds had played his last inning of baseball (in spite of our best efforts to convince Brian Cashman to sign the man), no beautifully edited video packages were aired on ESPN, no sombre and tasteful features were produced on his storied (hey! switch two letters around and you get steroid.) career. Based on how the mainstream media has dealt with Bar Bar, it would appear that most journalists consider him to be worse then George W. Bush but better than Dick Cheney on the scale of good to evil. Barely. Favre on the other hand, depending on what part of the country you look at, is somewhere between a lifetime supply of free ice cream and Jesus.
Then, of course, came news of Brett’s “itch” to play again. (Speaking of itches, on top of Just for Men ads, Brett could probably replace John Madden in those “tough actin’ Tinactin” athlete’s foot cream commercials — just a thought for when you finally do hang it up, Brett. Unless of course they’ve cured athlete’s foot by 2020). This was followed by weeks of intrigue, and finally a trade to the Jets. His first practice with the team drew of 10,000 onlookers.
Bonds, on the other hand, though his services have been available for peanuts to anyone who asks (well, most anyone — sorry, Kansas City), has barely drummed up any interest, and has been mentioned in a mere handful of articles.
So what’s the deal? Is the huge disparity in level of interest due solely to the fact that Favre is adored and Bonds is reviled? We think not. Head on back to 2003-2004 and check out a man named Roger Clemens. At the time, a well-beloved, newly-retired-turned-newly-unretired athlete. While his exit from and subsequent return to the game garnered a good deal of interest, it hardly rivals Favre Fever (copyright, Dropped Third Strike, MMVII). No, we believe that the reasons run deeper than the individuals involved.
Walt Whitman is said to have proclaimed: “I see great things in baseball. It’s our game — the American game.” But, like most things Walt said, that’s a bunch of crap. For a variety of reasons, baseball has simply never had the sex-appeal of its burlier brother, football. Maybe it’s the 162 game season. Maybe it’s the fact that even a game-winning, walk-off grand slam can’t equal the excitement and athleticism of a 75 yard touchdown pass as time expires, of Elway leading a 4th quarter comeback, of Peyton (or Eli) Manning running the 2-minute offense. Whatever the reason, the fact remains, baseball just doesn’t have that one superstar that everyone knows and loves. There’s no Tiger, no Michael or Kobe or Lebron, no Roger, no Great One or Super Mario, no Favre or Montana or Rice. Sure there’s a pantheon of great players, of names that all sports fans know, (Ruth, Mantle, Williams, Aaron, Mays, etc.) but baseball simply doesn’t produce the household names that other sports do. Peyton Manning hosted Saturday Night Live and has been in every commercial in the history of television, Brett Favre was in a Ben Stiller movie, Tiger Woods fascinates us so much that golf might as well be renamed Tiger Ball. (Though that might prove slightly misleading to extreme sports/big cat enthusiasts). Seriously, can you imagine Roy Halladay doing a commercial for Gillette? Or Albert Pujols doing a Sprint ad?
No, baseball players fascinate us most, it seems, when they find themselves wrapped up in a major controversy. Bonds, of course. But also, Pete Rose. And the granddaddy of ‘em all, Roger Clemens. Never was there more interest in him than when the Mitchell report was released and the lawsuits came pouring in. And this seems unlikely to change. Baseball will continue to sell itself on its history, on its rivalries, on the smell of the grass, on the tinny sounds of an announcer’s voice issuing forth from a radio as you sit out on the porch, on playing catch, on taking your kids to their first ball game. And that’s all well and good, and a large part of why we love this game so much. But as we finish watching the Yankees wrap up their 118th game in much the same sloppy, irksome manner that they finished off 30 or so other games this season, we can’t help but start to imagine what it’s going to sound like the first time Brett Favre zips a clean, tight spiral into the hands of one of his new Jet receivers.
Another trade deadline behind us, another year of Manny demanding a trade, and nothing coming of it, and he finally gets his wish. In a rare instance of a trade with no clear loser (Joe Torre excepted), the Red Sox replaced Manny with a more versatile, younger outfielder with similar stats, the Dodgers finally got an aging former All-Star outfielder who will actually produce runs for them, and the Pirates continued to acquire multiple mediocre prospects. (This is a puzzling approach to trading, but you see it all the time; a GM with a coveted major leaguer ships him off in exchange for 4 mid-level prospects. Presumably the thought process goes something like this: 4 players with a 20% chance of being productive major leaguers are more valuable than one with an 80% chance, and by acquiring a number of mid-level prospects, you put yourself in a position to plug more holes on a team that is in a rebuilding process. But really doesn’t this approach just make it more likely that you will continue the cycle of filling the lineup and rotation with average [at best] players? Interestingly, Brave’s GM, Frank Wren — an intriguing executive who is increasingly showing himself capable of making canny moves — eschewed this approach when dealing the most sought after position player of this trading season. He sent Mark Teixera over to the Angels, not for a handful of young players, but for 1 mid-range pitching prospect, and 1 sure-fire, young major league first baseman. It’s not an exciting move — Casey Kotchman doesn’t set fans salivating at the thought of his untapped potential, but it is a smart one).
It’s noteworthy that Manny Ramirez, Jason Bay, Mark Teixera, Xavier Nady, Ivan Rodriguez, Ken Griffey Jr, C.C. Sabathia, Rich Harden, and Joe Blanton were all traded in the last few weeks. Over the last few years, major deadline deals had been sorely lacking, as front offices around the league began valuing their own prospects more highly, and became less willing to part with them in exchange for established stars. The success of young players like Justin Verlander and Jonathan Papelbon seemed to confirm to teams that they were best served by holding on to their young prospects. Now, the pendulum seems to be swinging back the other way, with teams once again bidding farewell to their young ‘uns. We can’t help but wonder if the failures of players like Homer Bailey, Phil Hughes, Ian Kennedy and others have started to wear away teams’ confidence in their young prospects. The last few years saw the perceived value of established veteran major leaguers at a low ebb, the next few should see it rise once more. This last offseason, players like Kenny Lofton, David Wells, and (of course) Barry Bonds were left unsigned, as teams decided to turn inwards, and use young players to fill their needs. But one need look no further than the Manny trade to realize that teams are beginning to question this approach. Tired of waiting for Matt Kemp and Andre Ethier to develop power and consistency, the Dodgers pounced on Ramirez.
We expect to see a new trend emerge over the next 3-4 seasons. Teams will start to look to sell high on hot prospects, for fear that they will suddenly fall off a cliff and lose all value. (See Jose Tabata. Once considered the Yankees best non-pitching prospect, a player who could have been traded straight up for someone like X. Nady, Tabata has had a horrible ‘08 in the minors, has asked to be released by the Yankees, and finally wound up as little more than a throw-in in the the Nady deal.) And the most highly regarded players will no longer be flashy 20 year olds, but instead will be consistent 27-32 year olds with established track records. And that is as it should be.
