'Nobody's Perfect'

No, I will not be exegeting the hit song by Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter.

They say that sports is a microcosm of life. That being the case, Armando Galarraga taught the world how life is supposed to be lived: with a smile on your face, and with no malice in your heart.

In case you're not a baseball fan, I should help you catch up. On Wednesday night, the young Galarraga was on the verge of throwing a perfect game. It's so rare that it's only happened 20 times in Major League Baseball history. What's a perfect game? That's where a pitcher retires all 27 batters he faces without allowing any walks, hits, hit batsmen, or errors. That last one is critical, because it means your team-mates have to be perfect, too. And as we learned tonight, so do the umpires.

Let's pick it up in the 9th inning. Galarraga had faced 24 batters, and none of them had reached first base. The first batter of the 9th inning steps in, launches a rocket, and Armando got a little help from his friends with an incredible catch by Austin Jackson. It was so stunning that Armando himself unleashed a grin at how good his fortune was that Jackson hauled in that fly ball. 2 outs away.

After a groundball out to shortstop, only one out separated Galarraga from a perfect game. What happened next, as FDR once said, will go down in infamy.

You just have to watch for yourself.




The first base umpire blew the call. He admitted it himself. [ESPN]

"It was the biggest call of my career, and I kicked the [stuff] out of it," Jim Joyce said, looking and sounding distraught as he paced in the umpires' locker room. "I just cost that kid a perfect game."

"I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw, until I saw the replay."

Never has wrong been so unanimously wrong.

And as far as we know, nothing can be done about it. Major League Baseball's instant replay rules didn't allow that play to be reviewed. So it stood. Perhaps the Commissioner could make a special ruling, but that would be unprecedented.

A perfect game -- baseball immortality -- robbed by the proverbial blind ump. It's the stuff of a Classic Greek tragedy.

But that's not the end of the story.

Sports and social media went into a firestorm as the game ended. Twitter was all aflutter. Every single baseball analyst was getting their words in. Even former sportscasters that now host shows on cable news networks. The consensus? "This was wrong!" You can probably identify with it: an overwhelming injustice was done. I think it's fair to say that our nation hasn't seen anyone upstage a big moment like this ever since Kanye West did the deed to Taylor Swift. It's that big.

And if you still don't quite get it, maybe this will help. There are scant few things in life that you can point at & not criticize. Especially in your own life. How many things have you ever completed in your life that you can look back upon & call it perfect?? Unless you're one of those people who grew up never missing a day of class in school, and never had so much as even an A-, and never so much as saw a pimple when you looked in the mirror, you've never been perfect. We've all had blemishes; we've all had ink blots on our record at one point or another.

Which is what makes the luster of a perfect game all the more special & sacred. For ONE day -- for one brief moment in time -- a pitcher can point to that and say, "That was perfect."

Until that moment is robbed from you by someone else's imperfection.

And then, in the locker-room after the game, with more maturity than anyone else in the world demonstrated on Twitter, on the diamond, in the press box, or anywhere else, Armando Galarraga shrugged off the bad call by saying, "Nobody's perfect." I'm not sure how you muster the will to say those words. But he did. Twice. [MLB]

Galarraga said he gave Joyce a hug when Joyce apologized to him after the game.

"He really feels bad," Galarraga said. "He probably feels more bad than me. Nobody is perfect. I give a lot of credit to that guy. That (an apology) doesn't happen. He apologized. He feels really bad. Nobody is perfect. What am I gonna do? His body language said more than a lot of words. His eyes were watery, he didn't have too say much. His body language said a lot."

And here's where the game being a microcosm of life pivots from mere entertainment to teach us something about our existence. Armando's right. Nobody is perfect. Life is not fair. It is one of the more difficult discoveries of life when you begin to realize this fact yourself. And I'm not just talking about the cruel twists of fate where the ball doesn't bounce your way. It's especially heart-breaking when people let you down. And they're going to. 'Cause nobody's perfect.

And how we deal with that fact determines in large part how we deal with life going forward. It is perhaps the definitive hallmark of maturity for one to be able to be able to react in a positive way to other people when they deliver to you a negative experience. Extending mercy when outrage feels better, or even right. To give your wife a hug when she locks her keys in the car for the third time this year. Or to give your husband a kiss when he gets lost despite the presence of a Rand McNally map, an iPhone, and a Garmin. Or cracking a wry smile on the field, and effectively shrugging your shoulders in the locker room, when an umpire blows your perfect game.

Armando Galarraga's reaction begs me the question, and I pass it along to you as well: am I that sort of person? Or am I way more impatient?

I want to be like Armando. I want to be the kind of person that gives people permission to be human. I want to be able to not break bruised reeds or not snuff out smoldering wicks (Is. 42:3). But there are far too many moments where I'm not.

I wish I had a visual reminder. I think that would help. If I had an image that stood before me day after day that would remind me for all time that nobody's perfect. Because no matter how much I look in the mirror, Satan always seems up to the challenge to twist my thinking.

I think I have just such an image in mind. A poster. A wide-lense photograph from down the first baseline, back in the stands behind home plate. It would be of the moment right after Galarraga touched first base with his right foot. He's starting to lift his arms in triumph & he's looking up at the umpire. And Jim Joyce is emphatically extending his arms to make his infamous, heart-breaking call. And in true Successories style, this poster would have a caption.

I think you know what it would say.

Fair Weather Fanhood: A Manifesto

Just a fair warning to all: this is a long one. Relentlessly long. You may wanna try to print it out & read it somewhere more comfortable than a swivel chair. Then again, it might empty your ink cartridge. Ehhh, do whatever you want.

---

Allow me to go ahead & get the griping out of the way early: the weather STINKS here in Florida right now. It's positively disheartening. I know I shouldn't complain. I don't guess it does any good to complain... except making me feel better. So, just so we're clear on this matter, I don't like the hot weather right now. Not one bit. Not at all.

I guess the other side of this coin is that we're the first to get the warmth of spring. That is pleasant. But it also means an oppressively endless summer. Starting in May and running through June, July, August, September, and now 12 days into October, it's still summer weather here in Panama City, FL.

"So what? Big deal? You should be happy you don't have to shovel snow." Let me explain a little bit of what this is like for you, the non-Floridian.

I walk my dog every day. I'm a good, loving master, and my dog loves me for it. If you don't know, I'm a big man. Not small. I tend to perspire, like many big men. Okay, let's just keep this simple: I fill up a t-shirt with sweat every day. Every day there is a slim ring around the shirt-tail that is dry because it's the one part of the shirt not sticking to my sweat-soaked body. It is every bit as awful & disgusting as it sounds. And THIS every stinkin' day. Especially days where the heat index rises into the high 90's. Or over 100, like it did at least twice last week.

It became a source of humor for one of my golf buddies the other day. He caught me a mile into my route last week, and he stopped to turn his truck around, roll down his window, point at my shirt, guffaw, and think of every wisecrack he could in the 30 seconds he had to make fun of me.

It was humiliating. I will crush him the next time we hit the links.

What's more, the grass hasn't stopped growing here. And unless you've mowed Florida grass, you probably don't grasp how relentless this creature is. And I've been an outstanding yard manager this year. I'm not bragging; I'm just saying that it was a banner year because I put a lot of effort into it. I didn't neglect my lawn. Mowed it every week.

And I'm still mowing! It's not over! I want it to be over! Why can't it be over?! It's supposed to be over! It's October; it's supposed to be COOL. The grass should stop growing so fast by now. But it hasn't been that way.

Plus, when it gets down to it, I'm just selfish. I feel entitled. I don't know why, but I feel like October is my month. I want to walk outside to my truck & have there not be any humidity in the air. I'd like to not be scrambling to click on the A/C as quickly as I can. In fact, I'd like to roll down the window & fill my nostrils with the crisp air of a cool, fall day. Gosh. Just typing that makes me yearn even more. And that is supposed to happen in October. Why hasn't that happened yet here in October?

"Okay! We get it. It's hot in Florida & you hate it." Sorry. So what am I getting at?

Fair weather. I love fair weather. Who doesn't? Who isn't a fan of a crisp fall day?? Nobody, that's who. I want to declare this openly & loudly: I'm a fan of fair weather.

"STOP! What are you REALLY getting at?"

Well, not only am I a fan of fair weather, but I'm also a fair weather fan. There. I said it. I root harder for winners than I do for losers. But at least I'm honest about it. Seriously: who in their right mind roots harder for losers than they do for winners? Nobody, that's who! Nobody "in their right mind" that is. Nuts & weirdies root hard for losers. And I'm not gonna be one of those nuts or weirdies.

The season's over & we can call it now: the Red Sox royally sucked this season. The only reason they won the Wildcard is because the Rangers collapsed quicker than Boston could. They suffered through injuries (Wakefield, Dice-K, Lowell, etc.) & underperforming seasons (Ortiz, Pedroia, Bay, Varitek, etc.) across the board. Bottom line: they didn't have it this season. It wasn't close.

But you know what was even more disappointing? It didn't seem like they cared. How quick was that Red Sox dugout cleared out after the game was over? I saw Jason Bay give what looked like a cursory, token "blank stare out to the field watching the other team celebrate." That's about it. I'm not the only one who noticed this. I'm almost certain that it's this that motivated The Sports Guy to say this after the Game 2 loss: "If you're expecting me to throw remotes, punch walls & go for 2-hour dog walks for this lifeless '09 Sox team, think again."

Because this group didn't care. Not like those Angels cared; that much was very plain. And certainly not like the fans cared. My Lord... Red Sox fans sell out games & buy merchandise at a rate that would juice the economy if it happened in the cities of the other 29 MLB teams. If any fanbase has ever loved their team & blindly rooted for laundry, it is Red Sox fans. But, as the movie line goes, did the Red Sox love them back? I say no.

I've been having this on-going conversation with some Braves fans, too. The Braves have this new General Manager who is tarnishing the once good name of the Atlanta franchise. He's offending Hall of Famers left and right. He's botching deals, as he did last offseason with Rafael Furcal. He over-spent to nab Derek Lowe because he mis-read the market, thought there would be better pitching available, and panicked to bring in the best remaining option. Mark my words (Dan!): given more time, Frank Wren is going to run the Braves into the ground.

Little do Braves fans recognize this, though. Oh, the die-hards are convinced that next year is their year. As hard as I've tried to convince them of their GM's folly -- of his poor record doing business, of his strange signings -- they're convinced that Wren out-paces every other GM in baseball. Really. And they've invested their hopes & dreams into this guy who is leading them off a cliff.

So since when is rooting for those teams a measure of someone's devotion? Sounds sick to me. Pouring your care into a careless team. Investing your hopes in a hopeless franchise. It is folly I say.

Just ask a Green Bay Packers fan. Ask them what it's like to love a player like a son, only to see him rip your heart in the most careless, disloyal way imaginable. What's that like? Thankfully we were enlightened, courtesy Bill Simmons:

Question: I am 19 years old. I have been a fan of Favre and the Packers since the third grade. I grew up thinking Favre could do no wrong. As a mature 17-year-old, I cried the day he retired from the Packers. I was tolerant of the Jets experiment -- even have the jersey to prove it. But what am I supposed to do now? Tonight I watched my childhood hero stomp all over the team and the fans he represented for 16 years. I found myself cursing him for the very same reasons I used to love him. The phony TD celebrations, the smug smiles, the way he hams it up with his new teammates and his new fans. I don't know how to handle it. I started this e-mail thinking I had something to say about all of this, but I just feel lost. I don't know what to think anymore ... I'm just lost.
--Drew, Bloomington, Ind.

Simmons: And that's the part of Monday's game that got lost. Every Packers fan felt like how a dutiful wife would feel if she stuck with her husband through thick and thin, watched him become a success, then got dumped for a younger trophy wife who also happened to be her archnemesis. Favre failed in the same way Roger Clemens failed when he signed with the Blue Jays in 1997 -- his problems with management affected his feelings toward his old franchise, and he did a piss-poor job of letting his old fan base know that he still cared about it. I have written about this before, but I turned on Clemens during his Toronto news conference when he simply refused to acknowledge Boston fans beyond a few generic words. It hurt. I took it personally and decided he was an opportunistic, disloyal, dishonest scumbag from that moment on. And as it turned out, he was.

In Favre's case, his lack of empathy for Packers fans has been really alarming. I know he plays with his heart on his sleeve. I know he's a "kid out there" and "having a ball out there" and all the crap. And maybe he's not a brain surgeon, but he's smart enough to understand what he meant to Packers fans and the state of Wisconsin, which means he had to understand how it went over after he (A) signed with an NFC North team two months ago; (B) dialed up the finger-pointing and fist-pumping during Monday's Pack-Vikes game so egregiously that even his biggest fan fron Green Bay couldn't defend him; and (C) gave that self-satisfied postgame interview in which he never said anything like, "I just wanted to say hi to everyone back in Wisconsin and tell them that this was as strange for me as it probably was for you, but I want you to know that it was just one game -- a game that I wanted to win because I'm a competitor and I love my teammates, but still, none of this changes the fact that I love you guys and I always will." That's it. That's all he had to say to Michele Tafoya after the game.

He didn't say it.

And believe me, I've been there as a fan. It's unforgivable. Especially when you're under 30 and don't realize that many of your "heroes" are people who don't deserve that level of worship, or any worship, for that matter. They just play sports well. They don't care about you. They care about themselves and that's it. If this realization hits you at the wrong time in your life, it can be hard. (I know it was hard for me. I took the Clemens thing personally, as witnessed by the fact that I once wrote a column wondering if he was the Antichrist.) So if the Packers fans want to play along, so to speak, then they can't cheer Favre on Nov. 1. He set the stakes. He made it clear that he's moved on with his new team and cut all ties to the old one. That means you need to go to Lambeau and boo the living hell out of him. Make him miserable. Rattle him. Flummox him. Do everything you can to get the better of him for three hours. This man does not belong to you anymore, and maybe, he never did.

Wow. Truth is sobering, isn't it?

You know what, let's call it: Hosea was a SICK man. There's a reason that his is an awkward story to tell in Church. Marrying a prostitute? Expecting her to remain as faithful & pure as he was? That's like Favre fanhood to the extreme. Which, I mean, for Hosea, is just unimaginable the amount of grief & pain & sorrow he had to wrestle with so often. ONLY God is capable of executing that kind of love and faithfulness. Not us. And that's the point of the book. It's right there in chapter 11 verse 9:

I will not carry out my fierce anger,
       nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.
       For I am God, and not man—
       the Holy One among you.
       I will not come in wrath

Only God can do that. I mean, it'd drive a man insane to love to that degree of passion & have it not returned.

In fact, in terms of Scriptures that are a model, I default to Psalms 22 on this one. That Psalm where David just opens up on God without any pretense: "My God My God, why have you forsaken me?" It's like he's saying, "Hey Father... this situation I'm in right now -- this is really awful. I'd like to tell you how very awful I think it is." And David goes on to describe his plight in detail. He wrestles with ideas like God's faithfulness, and his own worthiness, and several other similar worries that we all have anxiety over when we're in the midst of trial.

But you know what: if David were being measured by the people who measure fanhood in 21st century America, the man after God's own heart would be only a fair-weather follower.

And I say that's rubbish. David was wallowing in his pessimism, but at least he was taking it to the right place. David was keeping it real, but he wasn't quitting God. He wasn't going down to some Baal or Molek to offer his worship there. He was taking it to God & dumping the full load with HIM: in all it's gritty, unpolished glory.

And here's the point I want to stress to a certain doubter of my fanhood: I'm not putting pinstripes on over here. Just because I can spot an apathetic loser when I see one doesn't mean that I'm leaving Red Sox Nation. I'm staying true to my team. But in doing that, I'm not losing the ability to stay true to myself.

I want to offer as a model of honorable fair weather fanhood my cousin Jason. I have to admit: I'm biased. I love this guy. He's one of my favorite people in the world to spend time around. And that for lots of reasons that I'll spare you from me listing here.

One of the greatest things about Jay, though, is his passion. It comes through so clear on the golf course. When he hits a bad shot, it kills him. Every time. And when he's squared off trying to compete against his brother Barry, it kills him double. Jason is a passionate guy.

This passion comes out in funny ways as it relates to his beloved Crimson Tide, too. I'll never forget the referees running out of the stadium -- running right by he & I -- at the tail end of the 1997 'Bama/Mississippi State game. Alabama had been conquered that day, and Jason wasn't in a good mood. So he taunted those referees. And don't worry: Jason's Mormon, he kept it clean. He just let them know that they SUCKED on that day. ;) And if you ask him about it today, he will work himself into just as much of a frenzy as he was in at that moment.

Oh, and there's also the time where he almost picked a fight after a win. It was October 2nd, 1999. Alabama had just defeated the #3 Florida Gators. IN the Swamp, where the Gators hadn't lost a game in 5 whole years. It was a high moment in all our lives. We felt like kings walking back across campus in our crimson polo shirts. That is, until someone dared taunt the kings. Some drunk guy started heckling us with, "You guys suck! You don't even know what top 5 is!!" Well, Jason isn't the type to turn the other cheek at that. "Hey loser!!... We just beat you IN YOUR OWN HOUSE!" Well, this drunk guy kept following us. And Jason kept not backing down. Until finally we've walked up to this guy's fraternity house, and Jason is standing out on the front lawn red-faced yelling at this clown. He was just about to follow the guy into his FRATERNITY HOUSE. We literally grabbed him to pull him out of that spot & back to my apartment.

I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that Jay is a passionate man. And so, just like his errant shots on the golf course, it kills him a little inside each time Alabama loses. And having a decade like Alabama had from 1997-2007, with 2 separate probations and 3 losing seasons, it was almost enough to crush his spirit.

But Jason figured it out toward the end of the Tide's decade of futility. Whenever 'Bama played, he just went to play golf. I couldn't believe it! This guy who loves Alabama football more than I've ever loved anything in my life. I gave him a hard time about it. How could he do it? Well, for one thing, he taped all the games. And he had a simple rule. When he got home, he'd ask his wife who won. If Alabama won, he'd watch the tape. If Alabama lost, the tape was tossed.

Lots of tapes were tossed.

But Jason made a simple realization about life that I hope each one of you will adopt: He was too passionate to put up with mediocrity. His heart was too big, his love was too strong, and the object of his affection was too small for him to continue down the path of experiencing one heart-wrenching loss after another. So he made that simple calculation: "It's not worth it."

And danged if he's not right! Sports isn't worth it. Sports is never worth it. That is, not when the "it" is putting up with rampant mediocrity & disappointment.

It's as Solomon wrote in Proverbs 4:23 -- "Guard your heart with all diligence, for out of it flows the wellspring of life." I don't know why we subject our hearts to so much anguish over such trivial matters. It reminds me of how C.S. Lewis famously put it:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

You know what I recommend to Florida State fans right now? Go play golf! Go savor the good things in life. Seek out fair weather wherever it may be found in your life. If in the Noles won, then fire up that DVR and enjoy the show. If they lost, then forget about it. It's JUST football.

Why is that so hard for people to say? "It's just football." "It's just baseball." I'm convinced that it's hard because we wrap our sense of self-worth & personal pride in our sports tribe of choice. So that when the tribe succeeds, it's like we succeed. But when the tribe fails, it's just as if we failed.

And, to me, that's sickening. It's just revolting. Because when your fanhood becomes THAT, it's tantamount to idol worship. And so we then begin to measure someone's virtue -- someone's loyalty -- by their mindless, automaton-like sense of devotion to a sports team? How poor a measure is that!

I've got an idea: How about we try measuring people's virtue & loyalty by things that really matter? Like how well they love their wives. Or how well they raise their kids. Or how healthy they grow their puppies? Or how green they keep their lawns? Even over months & months of oppressive heat!

(That's right: it's all about me here)

I'm not saying just to go root for winners. Definitely don't do that. That's not fanhood. That's being a front-runner. No, don't be like the louses that I grew up with who were fans of the Seminoles, Cowboys, and Bulls. Please. Don't go changing teams.

But here's what I am saying: choose to go enjoy the good weather wherever good weather may be found. That's what I'm doing. It's a High Tide in Alabama. That's why you have to put up with my obnoxious "Power 12" rankings every week. Because I am as into that as President Obama is into being on the TV!! A baseball playoffs commercial on TBS? Really, Mr. President?

So may you enjoy the good weather wherever that good weather may be found. It'll do your heart some good to enjoy the crisp purity of refreshing air in some other slice of life. Because too much of the rest of life is bad weather. Why put up with it in your hobbies & recreation? I mean, there are more important things in life than a sports franchise that deserve that from you which is precious above all else: your devotion & your loyalty. So may you find fair weather spaces in your life to invest your heart where it's safe & where it's rewarded.

And, while we're at it, may the good Lord bless me with some cool Fall air. Please?

Beyond October

I really loved MLB's Marketing Campaign this year. Even if television marketing is manipulative & Pavlovian in nature.

What do I mean? So many commercials follow this script: pleasant music, a warm soothing voice, and mesmerizing pictures or colors that all work together to make you feel good inside. And then, at the very end, they flash their brand logo on the screen. What are they doing? They're not trying to convince you that their product is better than someone else's. They're subversively making you feel good about their brand by flashing it after making you feel all warm & fuzzy. So that whenever you see that brand at the store, like Pavlov's dogs, you begin to feel all warm & fuzzy.

Sneaky, isn't it?

Or, the other script is that they'll make you laugh. They'll put a couple buffoons up on the screen. And they'll have them do something funny, like fail at tailgating or mess with Sasquatch. And after they've got you laughing, they flash their brand logo. So that whenever you see the logo, you unconsciously associate all the pleasant experiences of laughing with that brand.

So anyway, even though TV marketing is sly & manipulative, I liked this year's campaign by MLB. Even if it is just as sly & manipulative as the others. Maybe I excuse it because I like baseball anyway.

So, in honor of the beginning of the playoffs, I'm posting my favorites...

Angels in the Outfield

Something very touching happened very late last night. While most of America had already crawled into bed, the Los Angeles Angels clinched the pennant. After six grueling months of a seemingly eternal-long regular season -- a length of time that just grinds players down & almost empties their souls -- those Angels laid claim to the best record in the AL West Division & the ticket to the playoffs that comes with it. It is an accomplishment that can only be celebrated one way: by pouring copious amounts of alcohol all over one another. It is a special time where hours & hours and days & days and months & months of hard work is satisfied in a moment of wild, unharnessed exuberance.

For the Angels, this season was especially soul-draining & trying, though. Because very early in the season -- in the very first week of the season in fact -- they lost one of their own. Nick Adenhart, a young promising pitcher, lost his life after his vehicle collided with another vehicle that was being steered by a drunk driver.

It was tragic.

The Angels were left to pick up the pieces. As is true whenever you experience loss in life, life goes on. It was really almost unfair for each of those team-mates of Nick Adenhart's. They still had a season to play. Grieving, they had to go out night after night & perform under the big lights. And that they did. Without wallowing in self-pity or making excuses for lethargy, they went out and did their job. And they won the pennant.

Respect THAT!

(I've gotta say, as a fan of the team that will have to face the Angels in the first round of the playoffs, I'm not excited about playing them. They're a stronger team because of what they faced. Stronger than other Angels teams that the Red Sox have whipped in playoffs past.)

And yet, despite going through arduous routine & having been focused on doing their job everyday, the Angels still remember their fallen brother. Along with releasing all the pent-up joy & happiness from their fantastic accomplishment, the Angels released some other emotions, too. They let the world know that it still hurts. They told their fans that, even in this fit of machismo & chest-bumping, it's okay to cry. The Angels just missed their friend. And so they paid tribute to him in one of the neatest ways sports has ever seen. Here are some of the images:



And then, after the traditional clubhouse celebration, the Angels took it back out to the field -- to the outfield -- where the Nick Adenhart tribute banner sat on the outfield wall all season just staring back at them. And they honored him there, too:



And here are video clips of the tributes:

From ESPN: the so-called "Highlight of the Night"

From MLB.com: The Angels in the outfield


That had to be so wonderful for those Angels players. As an outside observer, there's a strong sense in which it looked like they felt that they shared one last moment with their buddy, Nick. Not that it's all about me here, but I know the feeling in my own life of accomplishing something and thinking how great it would be if I could call Mom & share that moment with her. Sometimes it's crushing when I realize I can't.

So that's why it was so touching to see those players have that moment:

• to empty the cans of beer on that empty jersey as if they were actually piling on their team-mate in real life...
• to run out to right-centerfield to be with Nick as if he were actually there...
• to lift a can in honor to him as if he were there actually appreciating the tribute...
• to take a team photo as if having Nick's image in the back-drop finally actually made things feel complete again.

What a rich moment that must have been. And what a loving act for those Angels to make to their fallen brother, and to his family. And, really, to every family everywhere that's ever lost a member. I'm not gonna forget these Angels in the outfield. How special are they.

There have been some under-the-radar special moments in baseball in the last couple of years. Josh Hamilton destroying his demons in Old Yankee Stadium last July in the Homerun Derby. With each swing of the bat, it seemed like he was slaying yet one more demon after another. Jon Lester throwing a no-hitter after having beat cancer. The more fireballs he threw, the stronger he made us all feel against the powers that threaten to destroy our lives. And now we have the Angels winning the pennant & paying tribute to Nick Adenhart. Reminding us that even when we lose a big part of us, we still have one another. I just wanna break out in praise over God giving us these moments to enjoy.

How Good was Hank Aaron?

I now get the MLB Network on Cable. You better believe my productivity is about to go down. Seriously, if they ever come out with an SEC Network, I may never have a reason to watch ESPN again except for live sports programming.

Anyway, I got caught up in this documentary about (as Joe Morgan simply calls him) "The Hammer." To answer the title in the subject line, he was better than we recognize. On his radio show, Dan Patrick often calls him the must under-rated player in baseball history. Nobody really celebrates Henry Aaron except when it's a conversation about Civil Rights. Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and even others come up in conversations about the greatest of all time before Aaron does.

Just go look at his stats. Number one all-time in RBI's. Number three all-time in hits. Even if you take away all of his homeruns, he STILL had 3,000 hits. And I won't bring up the whole debate about steroids, but there's no question that he earned every one of the 755 he hit.

He was good. Maybe the best ever.

Reason #4,863,093 to Hate the Yankees

As if we really needed to have another reason. Despite the success of the Red Sox, this story just goes to show that the Yankees are still -- and will always be -- the bad guys.

Rays and Red Sox in the ALCS

Hey Tampa Bay...

YOU'RE NEXT!!


Man! What a great game tonight! Playoff baseball is just the best.

I can't wait for this ALCS to start this Friday night. I'm not sure I've been this excited about a single playoff series since the 2004 ALCS. This is going to be WAR!

Be a Man, Manny

As a fellow Red Sox fan like Bill Simmons (ESPN's "The Sports Guy"), I too rooted on Manny Ramirez. I loved him when he was funny. But I also hated him when his jokes weren't so funny. I wrote a couple months ago that with the way Manny disrespected his team-mates, the fans, and the game, I hoped he fell flat on his face in L.A. & went the way of Nomar.

In his really, really ridiculously long article that will headline ESPN.com this weekend, Simmons argued that Manny shouldn't take the blame. He had put up great numbers, he was still putting up great numbers, he was going to put up great numbers -- what wasn't there to love? And any culpability for a poor attitude, lack of hustle, faking injuries & ducking games, intentional strikeouts, and being a bad team-mate in general should be laid at the doorstep of Manny's agent, Scott Boras. I personally think Simmons overstates his case. But did he have good reason to do so?

The Sports Guy stops just short of overtly alleging the existence of a cabal between the Red Sox front office, the Boston print media, the Boston sports talk machine, ESPN analyst Peter Gammons, and -- The Great Satan himself -- Scott Boras. He essentially assassinates Gammons in terms of him having any journalistic integrity or objective voice of his own anymore.

Not to mention that he takes swipes at current Red Sox GM Theo Epstein's integrity in holding Manny to a standard he himself allegedly did not keep. He compares Epstein not being re-signed & let go at the end of the '05 season to Manny quitting on his team mid-season for no apparent reason. I'm not sure how solid those comparisons are.

And, on top of all that, The Sports Guy even makes veiled accusations of racism. There is a long-standing history of sports racism in Boston (with both the Celtics and the Red Sox). Simmons patently implies the Red Sox front office of preserving this long-time Boston sports pastime of sorts by referring to the current product on the field as "lily-white" & akin to looking like a prep school athletics squad.

My first reaction was that Simmons must not be a Sox fan anymore. I mean, seriously: the guy never writes about them anymore. He spills endless amounts of ink over football lines and on baskeball; but he barely acknowledges baseball anymore. And when he FINALLY decides to grace us with his thoughts on baseball by talking about the Manny divorce, he basically slanders his favorite team? One of my major gut reactions was that Simmons just needs to go buy a Dodger blue #99 jersey & make it official. If it's Manny you're loyal to, then be up front about it. But don't claim Red Sox fanhood if you're not into it anymore.

I'll give Simmons credit where he deserves it, though. He doesn't throw darts without hitting a few targets.

The strongest part of Simmons' article is probably his critique of the widely-loved Peter Gammons. It is indeed puzzling that Gammons never once blamed Boras, but only spoke noble words of him. Even I recognized it to be pretty clear (in my write-up two months ago) that it felt like Gammons was the mouth-piece for the Red Sox administrative arm. For Gammons to not even say a single ill word about Boras, though -- a man universally recognized in baseball circles as the media's version of the protector of the integrity of the game -- is really bad. Even Curt Schilling fingered the obvious villain when interviewed at the trade deadline:

On Scott Boras’s involvement:

“I think absolutely he’s absolutely had a hand in this … I think he absolutely has a piece of this. Scott Boras stands to make zero dollars if the Red Sox pick up Manny’s options the next two years. Manny’s not 1- years from retirement, he’s maybe four obviously, that’s where he’s at. So does Scott Boras want to get a two year-deal for Manny or a four-year deal for Manny? At the end of the day it falls on the player because Manny’s an adult… I can’t fathom Scott hasn’t had some… you read his comments, he just has no ability to answer a question short, tactfully, and straightforward. It’s a 12 paragraph way to say 19 syllable words that you just can’t figure out what the hell he’s saying.”

There does appear to be an attempt by the Red Sox front office to control spin & to establish relationships that are ultimately beneficial for their own self-preservation & advancement. Think about who benefits. Gammons gets first dibs at any scoop coming out of the Red Sox front office, not to mention other probable fringe benefits at Fenway Park when watching his self-disclosed favorite team. The Red Sox watch Boras drive up prices on all the mid- & low-market franchises -- a development that plays into their hands with their massive fan base and, thus, money pool. On top of that, though, the Red Sox help establish a gentler view of Boras & a kind relationship with an agent who is vilified everywhere else in order to perhaps receive favorable treatment with Boras' long list of clients (cough, cough -- J.D. Drew). And, of course, Boras gets paid.

This article by Simmons even brought back fresh to my memory an interview I remember seeing Theo doing four years ago after the Red Sox re-signed Varitek but had let Pedro go. Varitek is, of course, represented by Boras. When Theo was asked about Boras' cut-throat, blood-sucking reputation, he succinctly & directly responded, "Well, Scott always gets top dollar for his clients." I remember being shocked by that answer. It was sort of a relentlessly positive way of looking at a really, really awful person in terms of what a scourge he is on baseball in general. I like the way Simmons referred to him: "one of the worst human beings in America who hasn't actually committed a crime."

I want to make this clear: I detest Scott Boras. He himself is a huge reason why a baseball game is so expensive to go watch in person right now. He encourages and openly fosters disloyalty to the "home team" (he basically fundamentally opposes one of the first principles from the National Anthem of Baseball, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"), which completely spits in the face of baseball fans everywhere. And he does all this to increase his own bottom line.

And you know what else, my Republican readers? I want to say to you that this is what unchecked free market enterprise produces. So everytime you praise Republicans for their common sense and demean Democrats for how "wrong" they are, I want you to remember that you are giving a tacit endorsement to the reckless & utterly insensitive greed of The Great Satan himself.

And as I wag my finger on that point, I can't help but be almost completely ashamed of my Red Sox fanhood now. I've been a fan for a long time. I don't know if these revelations will change that overnight. But the Red Sox look more & more like the Yankees at every turn. It's disillusioning, to be sure.

Back to Simmons, though... one thing I think that he completely overlooks is the fact that it wasn't a guarantee that Manny was not going to quit on this team that was defending a title. Manny had already done just that when he sat out for five weeks at the end of the '06 season for some mysterious, probably non-existent injury. Manny could have shut himself down for as long as he wanted. He didn't care. And if the '08 Red Sox were going to make a run at defending their title, it was clear that Manny wasn't going to be a part of that effort. It was clear enough that he had other selfish interests in mind, and Manny's not one to juggle more than one task at a time.

At the end of the day, though, the man who is speaking the most truth here is Curt Schilling. (Why is it always the jerks & the blow-hards? Canseco was the truth-teller on steroids. Now it's Schilling on Manny.) He was absolutely correct when he said, "At the end of the day it falls on the player because Manny’s an adult." Simmons can call Manny an "idiot savant" all he wants, and portray him as the ignorant puppet in Boras' puppet-master scheme. But Manny ultimately chose this path when he chose Boras & acted out like a petulant child. I don't see God absolving everyone, both sheep & goats, on Judgment Day just because that Satan was one persuasive cat. That's just not how it works -- at least not in my worldview.

Manny made his bed. Now he's lying in it. And I'm still hoping that it has some uncomfortable lumps so that Manny will go the way of Nomar. My hope is still that Manny falls on his face to the extent that whenever a future athlete thinks of acting out and being selfish, he will think of the cautionary tale that is Manny Ramirez.

A Hundred Reasons ESPN's Page2 Loves the MLB Playoffs

I already posted my exuberant thoughts about the ushering in of the greatest month & sports time of the year. But also ESPN's Page2 Staff published a great piece today about the 100 Reasons they love the MLB Playoffs. Its a fun article. If you're a baseball fan, do yourself a favor, click on over, and check it out.

Here are my favorites, starting with what I am actually looking forward to, followed by the funny ones:

7. K-Rod versus Big Papi … bottom of the ninth. Sox down one. One runner on.

10. To see whether Jim Edmonds, washed up in April with the Padres, will provide that key lefty bat in a Cubs lineup filled with righties.

15. To see the great Ken Griffey Jr., his paunch a little bigger, his bat a little slower, but finally back in October, with the chance to make his first World Series.

45. Seeing millionaires sweat it out (emotionally and physically) on a 52-degree night.

50. To watch Carlos Marmol (.098 average allowed versus right-handed hitters) stare down Manny Ramirez in the eighth inning of a tie game with two runners on base.

52. The leading team looking like it'll never lose and the losing team looking like it'll never win -- until one play changes all that.

61. For the chance to see J.D. Drew prove he really is clutch for the second year in a row!

83. The possibility of Josh Beckett's pulling a Willis Reed, followed by a Josh Beckett.

86. Because maybe this year we'll get a seven-game World Series.

93. A packed Wrigley Field going nuts for a Carlos Zambrano masterpiece.

96. A packed Fenway Park going nuts for Jonathan Papelbon closing out a win.

100. To see how the Cubs will detonate the hearts of their fans this season … or to see whether Kerry Wood can erase the memories of 1998, the elbow injury of 1999, the Game 7 start in 2003 and the years of DL stints and be on the mound, leaping for joy, when the Cubs finally win the World Series.

And now, the funny ones... :)

17. To see a historical postseason home run poetically clank off the Tropicana Field catwalk.

22. The oddly hypnotic music made by the Red Sox Bullpen Band.

28. To see the TV cameras pan to Derek Jeter's parents in the stands.

34. Two words: Rays tradition.

35. Asking the guy next to you whether he knows how many Octobers there are right before that Randy Jackson ad comes on.

(Answer: There's only ONE October!! BWAAAHAHAHAHA!)

*38. Any time a team is down 0-3 and the graphic appears that starts, "The last team to come back from a 3-0 deficit …"

* Insufferable Red Sox fans only

39. Longing for the days of Thunderstix after hearing the Tampa Bay cowbells. Nothing says you're a pure baseball fan quite like clanging metal or banging plastic balloons together.

43. To wonder exactly what the heck Ryan Dempster is doing with his hands as he begins his windup.

48. Any delay that prompts footage of The Bug Game.

51. Because we're going to keep track of how many times the announcers call Dustin Pedroia "scrappy."

78. "Frank TV" is back!

81. To hear the phrase "Harvey's Wallbangers" meaningfully invoked for the first time in 26 years.

82. To watch an October in which A-Rod has a legitimate excuse for going hitless.

85. To see Fox executives leap for joy when the Rays meet the Brewers in the World Series.

88. Because there is nothing else of national significance going on right now.

90. The dependable consistency of seeing the Yankees playing in Octo -- uh, never mind.

October Magic

I'm republishing edited excerpts of an older entry here today to ring in the first day of what is almost always my favorite month of the year: October! Enjoy...

By a large margin, my favorite month of the calendar year is October. There are a variety of reasons why. For firsts, it is when humidity disappears and the air turns cooler. It gives you an instant natural high just to step outside & take a breath of air. Also, in October, it is my birthday -- which is always fun. And, as well, October is one of the greatest months of college football. You have border-war matchups like Oklahoma-Texas, Florida-Georgia, and Alabama-Tennessee. The season is in full swing, teams are playing at their best, and it is this month that separates the contenders from the pretenders.

And as singularly great as each one of those elements are, my favorite thing about this month is October baseball. There is almost nothing more edge-of-your-seat, pump-your-fist, yell-out-loud exciting than a playoff baseball game. There are are rivals, to be sure: back-nine of the Masters, college football rivalry games, March Madness. If it's a good year for the U.S. in the Ryder Cup, that might top playoff baseball. But usually, for my money, the most exciting sports events happen in October with playoff baseball.

Some may say that better athletes play football & basketball.
I say that there is no more difficult task in all of sports than hitting a baseball off of a major league pitcher.

Some may say that the games are slow.
I say that the drama is just building.

And some may say that other sports are just more exciting.
I say that no other sport produces the kind of "magic" that baseball produces.

I wanna see Big Papi go deep this month

October makes great players, like Kirby Puckett and Joe Carter, into legends. BEYOND mere heroes. Legends. It was one October a couple years ago that David Ortiz became more than that big oaf who hit homeruns -- he became "Big Papi." It was in the Fall Classic that Reggie Jackson became even more than "Reggie" -- he became "Mr. October."

It's in October that old pitchers can sometimes dig way down deep & recapture that old greatness, like Jack Morris in his 10 shutout innings in Game 7 of the '91 Series. It's also in October that young flamethrowers emerge, like when Josh Beckett silenced Yankee bats in Yankee Stadium in the 2003 World Series.

October is when Kirk Gibson limped into history. It's when Curt Schilling pulled off a real-life Roy Hobbs-like performance -- blood seaping through the uniform and all. Only Schilling's performance lasted batter after batter after excruciating batter. And not just once, but TWICE: against the Yankees AND against the Cardinals.

You can't write these scripts. The Red Sox coming back from an 0-3 deficit in a seven game Series ... after losing game three 19-8 ... forcing not just one, but TWO Mariano Rivera blown saves. Give me a break! Right? The freakin' Tampa Bay (don't call 'em Devil) Rays, having never won more than 70 games in a season, stand up to win the AL East. Could THEY make a run this October? You just can't make this stuff up.

It's a month that makes life-long memories with unfamiliar names. Names like Bill Mazeroski, Francisco Cabrera, Luis Gonzalez, and Aaron-Bleeping-Boone. It's a month that makes goats out of Mitch Williams & Bill Buckner. The Fall Classic has intimately intersected with some of our nation's tragedies. The Giants and Athletics played in the midst of a devastating Bay Area earthquake in '89. The Yankees brought life to a city that was lifeless after the 9/11 attacks in 2001.

Just as a general baseball fan, one of my favorite moments in the last few years was seeing Magglio Ordonez live the dream of every young baseball player. "Two outs. Bottom of the 9th inning. He connects! Long fly ball, deep left field ... and ... it's ... OUTTA HERE! Three run homerun, and the Tigers are going to the World Series!" Magglio literally hit the homerun that sent his team to the World Series with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th! Ordonez is so happy when he sees his first-base coach it's almost as if he momentarily forgot that he had to round the bases. The guy on second, Placido Polanco, doesn't just trot home -- he SKIPS home. Skipping like an exuberant little kid.

And that's really the point. October baseball can make you feel like a little kid again. As James Earl Jones said in Field of Dreams, "it's as if you've dipped yourself in magic waters," and you believe that the impossible CAN really, actually happen. When the world beats you down, the humidity wears you out, and you feel like you're just about to turn completely cynical, October baseball arrives and lets you believe in magic again.

It's like an old friend returning to bring you cheer. I can't wait to see what magic the 2008 playoffs have in store. Thirty-one days of glory. Welcome back, October!

Steinbrenner. As Usual.

Eleven months ago, Joe Torre's contract was up & the offer that Hank Steinbrenner delivered was essentially a slap in the face. Everybody saw the writing on the wall: the Yankees had had enough of Torre, and were ready to move on. The only reason he received that piddling offer at all was simply a politically-strategic tip of the cap by Hank to what Torre had done to bring 4 World Series titles in his tenure.

Here we are almost a full year later. The Torre-led Dodgers (currently holding an 83-76 record in a competitively weak division) have clinched a playoff berth. The Torre-less Yankees (with an 87-72 record in what is widely-considered the toughest division in baseball) have been eliminated from the playoffs.

So what's a Steinbrenner to do? Hank's father, George, would make sweeping changes, take verbal pot-shots, and generally look foolish & inadequate in his attempts to defend his own massive ego. However, according to the media & sports talk radio, Hank is DIFFERENT! He's more calculating; he's SMARTER! He won't repeat the mistakes of his father, and he is the agent of change to oversee a new reign of Yankee dominance in the coming years.

Too bad that's just a fallacious fantasy. Hank has already demonstrated that George's same insecure blood runs through his Yankee blue-blooded veins. ESPN's Page2 writer Jim Caple seems to have a skill for lampooning the Steinbrenners, as he did with this hillarious column back in the spring. To me, it came close to topping his famous "Praise Steinbrenner" column (starring the former Iraqi information minister, Mohammad Saeed Al-Sahhaf) from several years back.

So how has Hank responded this week to Joe's success coupled with his own franchise's failure? From an article attributed to him in the Sporting News (thanks to The Newark Star-Ledger):

• On revenue sharing: "That's a system I don't particularly like. It's a socialist system, and I don't agree with it. Does it work? It depends on your point of view. But is it right? Is it even American? I'd argue no on both of those points."

• On the divisional setup: "... If you want to talk about things that infuriate me about the game today, revenue sharing doesn't top the list. The biggest problem is the divisional setup in major league baseball. I didn't like it in the 1970s, and I hate it now. Baseball went to a multidivision setup to create more races, rivalries and excitement. But it isn't fair. You see it this season, with plenty of people in the media pointing out that Joe Torre and the Dodgers are going to the playoffs while we're not. This is by no means a knock on Torre -- let me make that clear--but look at the division they're in. If L.A. were in the A.L. East, it wouldn't be in the playoff discussion. The A.L. East is never weak."

• On Joe Torre: "I'm happy for Joe, but you have to compare the divisions and the competition. What if the Yankees finish the season with more wins than the Dodgers but the Dodgers make the playoffs? Does that make the Dodgers a better team? No."

• On his case for the divisional setup not being good for the game: "Go back to the 2006 season. St. Louis winning the World Series -- that was ridiculous. The Cardinals won their division with 83 wins -- two fewer than the Phillies, who missed the postseason. People will say the Cardinals were the best team because they won the World Series. Well, no, they weren't. They just got hot at the right time. They didn't even belong in the playoffs. And neither does a team from the N.L. West this season."

• On the media: "The divisional setup is not right by any definition of logic. But the sports media rarely deals with logic -- so you never read about this."

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

I like what Bud Poliquin had to say:

Now, does Steinbrenner have a point to make when he declares the eight best squads in baseball don't necessarily comprise the postseason field? Well, yeah. But so what? That has forever been the case whether we're talking the NCAA Tournament's 65 teams (hello, Syracuse University, in 2007), the NBA playoffs (greetings, Golden State, just this spring), the NFL postseason (where some wretched group from the NFC West will qualify later this winter) and so on and so forth.

Baseball? The geographical gods can giveth (as they have forever done to the Yankees, who enjoy the vast revenue streams generated by the kind of dense population that, oh, Kansas City will never see) and they can taketh away (which they've done for so long now to the Jays and Orioles, to name just two cursed franchises). And [those geographical gods] can do so without having to consult with Henry Steinbrenner, despite what Henry might think.

Yeah, certain things are unfair, all right. And George's son ought to be thankful because if he'd been sired by, say, a short-order cook (not there's anything wrong with that) as opposed to a ship-building magnate, he might be flipping a burger even now.

Ouch. Put simply: "Just hush up, Hank."

Of course I hope my Red Sox win it all this October. But if they or the Rays happen to fall to Torre's Dodgers this October, I will enjoy the heck out of Joe Torre making Hank Steinbrenner look like an absolute fool.

The Josh Hamilton Redemption

It was one of those special sports moments Monday night. It was one of those moments where you answer the phone when your buddy calls, and your first words aren't, "Hey man," but they are rather, "Are you watching THIS!" And you don't say it in an inquisitive way -- I already knew Jordan was calling precisely because he was watching it. I almost had a, "You had BETTER be watching this" tone in my voice.

Josh Hamilton put on a show in the Homerun Derby at Yankee Stadium Monday night. But you have to know his story to understand what made it so exhilarating: a life and talent marred by drug abuse only to find faith in Christ, clean up his life, and climb back to the top of his sport.

I'm glad I was able to watch it. I'll remember it alongside other meaningful baseball memories (Cal Ripken's 2,131st consecutive game, the Red Sox '04 comeback, even Jon Lester's no-hitter this year, etc.). Every homerun he hit felt like he was beating back evil, cynicism, and the powers that would enslave us all. I know that I didn't keep dry eyes through the whole event -- it, uhhh, got a little dusty in my living room that night. ;)

Peter Gammons put it in perspective, as he so often does so well, telling us that out of the ash heap heroes emerge:

Baseball has always been able to turn the page because of someone and something always grew up out of the rubble, and Josh Hamilton began the process of turning the page on Monday night. It is unbelievable what he has done, and now the nation knows it.
[...]
(On Monday we watched) 55,000 New Yorkers standing and chanting Josh Hamilton's name. We are reminded that baseball can help us remember what we stand for, not against, what we believe, not what we fear, and that while we learn from the past, what we all want is to open the door to the future.

Or, as Rick Reilly said, it was a lousy night to be an atheist.

A few months ago I mourned the eclipse of the Great American hero. Some of you had some well-wishing sentiments, but I was genuinely disheartened about this. And I clarified my dismay:

Still, despite each of you guys' well-put words, I still find myself dejected over this sad state of affairs. It isn't because I just realized that there is hopelessness where I had always expected there to be hope. I think it is more that I wish to see my faith played out on that stage of public celebrity. I want to see some light shine through. I want to see some evidence in the world -- that I can point to... that I can show to others -- to say, "Here is where the Reign of God is breaking in & making a difference. Here is where the beacon on a hill is shining."
[...]
I know that Christ has forgiven us of all our sins (lowercase-"s"). But what about the (uppercase-"S") Sin problem here, while we're still on Earth? The cross has salvific power for eternity, and Scripture is witness to that. But also, the logic of the cross overcomes the problem in the here & now of the power of Satan in our lives. It's not enough to just have our record expunged. I want my heart washed clean, too.

And, so, it would be marvelous to find more examples, that are in public view, of humanity overcoming. I know some of you are still going to argue, "You're looking in the wrong place." I don't think I am. I'm just looking for that city on a hill. And I suppose my point in all this is that it's hard to find in celebrity. I want to be able to point at someone and say, "See, Christ works even THERE!"

If it is true that "to write is to pray," then I praise God for answering in such a fun way! I have my hero, and he is bonafide.

Thank God for heroes.

I like to imagine that we will have a "Josh Hamilton Day" in Heaven. And I can just imagine us on that day, pumping our fists to the rafters as we joyously sing "This is How We Overcome." That's something worth looking forward to.

A Red Sox Fan's Worst Nightmare

It is a sad reality that winning sports franchises attract bandwagon fans. Perhaps nowhere has this despicable phenomenon been realized more this decade than with the over-indulgent lust for the now-media-darling Boston Red Sox.

Whenever I hear people complain about the ridiculous amount of Sox love in the media, at the theaters, or in the All-Star voting (come to think of it... actually, Jordan, I think its just you...), I don't have much sympathy. Because, you see, we Red Sox fans climbed an extreme incline to get to where we are today. We paid a steep price. You see, for those of us who didn't just hop on the bandwagon within the last four years -- before the momentous comeback for the ages against the Yankees & the fulfilling sweep against the Cardinals in the Series -- people forget what we were.

We were Red Sox fans.

It was ugly, even though it had its redeeming charm. It was shameful, even though there was some perverted element of honor. It was utterly heartbreaking to be teased, tormented, and trampled upon in the horrific fashion that seemingly only the Red Sox could script. I'm not sure I can offer enough hyperbole to make this point ring true. It was brutal. It was masochistic. It was like passionately rooting to take a sucker punch to the gut.

And that is why my worst nightmare for this coming October would be to see the Red Sox make it to the World Series to face the Chicago Cubs.

Here's the deal. Our franchises had at one point been linked as both being star-crossed. But the meta-narrative wasn't really the same. The Red Sox would come tantalizingly close to glory, only they would quite magnificently snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The Cubs, on the other hand, just lost all the time & never gave their fans any hope at all.

So is it better to have loved & lost than to have never loved at all???

Not according to an old college chum of mine named Eric, who (being a life-long Cubs fan) stated definitively that the Cubs' 2003 NLCS Bartman-induced epic collapse was much worse & much more heart-breaking than having never really come close to glory before.

And it got even worse for Cubs fans after that '03 debacle. They watched the Red Sox leave their class of "lovable losers" after the '04 World Series victory -- their first in 86 years. Not only that, but they watched their crosstown rival Chicago White Sox exorcise their own demons by winning the 2005 World Series -- their first in 88 years. And that wasn't the end of it. In 2006, they watched their hated division-rival St. Louis Cardinals come out of nowhere to win their franchise's 10th World Championship. Sadly the bleeding didn't even stop there, because in 2007 the former fraternal Boston Red Sox took a step toward dynasty-hood by winning their 2nd World Series in 4 years.

Honestly, the worst kind of torture is watching everyone else around you be blessed when you're not. Right? Always the bridesmaid; never the bride... that kind of deal. David writes about it in Psalms 22:2-6 -- "Come on, God... You're enthroned as 'The Praise of Israel' ... I've heard about these other Godly people who obeyed you and were blessed! Why not me? Why do I have to run for my life from Saul when I'm trying to do the right thing here?!" That's the gist of David's complaint anyway. And its one of the saddest that there is.

So that is why when I read some so-called "Sox fan" (no doubt a bandwagon-jumping dullard) write on a message board that their dream World Series this year was Sox/Cubs, I almost came unglued. I was so offended that I felt the need to write this diatribe about it. ("Stuff White People Like" entry STILL funny!) Either that person is a sadist, or (more likely) he doesn't understand the grief a Red Sox-induced World Series loss for the Cubs would feel like for long suffering Chicago fans.

Obviously, it would not be pleasant for Red Sox fans if Boston lost a World Series. There is little redeeming value in losing that way. But it would be almost equally joyless to defeat the Cubs to win it all. Because true Red Sox fans know that such a victory would make the transformation complete. We would then BE the New York Yankees: a franchise & fanbase that delighted in trampling less worthy franchises underfoot for the sake of some kind of baseball manifest destiny.

The hype is already there. It is 2008 -- precisely 100 years since the last Cubs World Championship. The Cubs are in first place in their division, and they just traded for an ace pitcher who could take them to the promised land. Poor Cubs fans are already getting set up for the heartbreak to end all heartbreaks.

Please God don't let this happen. Don't let the Cubs & the Red Sox both make the World Series this year. I can't take the pain...

How to Charge the Mound

Since tomorrow is July 4th, I can hardly think of anything more American to talk about than baseball. And there is hardly anything more unique to baseball than the bench-clearing brawl. Utter pandemonium breaks out, and yet this is accepted. If this happens in football or basketball, we wonder if society is unraveling at the seams & if we have a greater cultural problem. But baseball -- eh, this happens every other week.

Anyway, I've always wondered about the upside for a batter to charge the mound & incite the brawl. Usually he takes the most abuse. Just look here at what happened to Coco Crisp a month ago: the catcher throws him down & 3 other guys jump on top of him throwing haymakers:


But, now, someone has taught us all how to avoid getting caught from behind or cheap-shotted by the catcher. This video is truly awesome:

Should the Braves Trade Tex for Youk?

I found a wonderful blog while reading Peter Gammons on ESPN in the offseason. It is called Firebrand of the American League. It is a Red Sox blog with several authors, and Gammons says that even Red Sox brass pay attention to it & read it.

Well, I wonder what they think about this latest entry -- Should the Red Sox trade Kevin Youkilis for Mark Teixeira?

As a sports bigamist -- I am a fan of both the Red Sox AND Braves -- I am all about this trade. Since Firebrand has already addressed the Red Sox side, I'll briefly address why this makes sense for the Braves.

• The Utility Value of Kevin Youkilis -- Youk can play first base, third base, and outfield. The Braves can immediately plug him in at first. Given the balky health of aging Chipper Jones, manager Bobby Cox could easily slide him over to the other corner infield position.

• The OBP Value of Kevin Youkilis -- the Braves have struggled to find lead-off and #2 hitters for their lineup since the decline/departure of Marcus Giles and Rafael Furcal. Youk could hit in either of these spots and get on base for the big sticks to drive him in.

• Building for the Future -- This is Glavine's last hurrah. Smoltz may be done, too. Mike Hampton can't get healthy. Chipper doesn't have much left. 2008 was going to be the year where the Braves put everything in to making one last run with many of the older pieces. Its not gonna happen. Let me be clear about that: given all the bad injury luck this season, that one last run for the Braves is not gonna happen. Take Youk. Take young ace prospect Michael Bowden. It was exciting while it lasted with Tex, but its time to look to the future.

Get it done!

A Pilgrimage Playlist (With Reflections)

I finally finished my final game synopsis tonight. And also did a cute little run-down of my Pilgrimage "by the numbers."

But I also put together a commemorative song playlist on iTunes. A "Pilgrimage mix tape" to play on rainy days to remind me of my epic adventure. Here is how it rounded out...

1.) "Centerfield" by John Fogerty

I don't know what it does for you, but this song just gets me all geeked up for baseball. And I believe it should be played before the first pitch of every baseball game. I would institute that if I were Commissioner for a day...

2.) "The Gregarious Raconteur" by Theocracy

You have to be a faithful listener to the ESPN Bill Simmons podcast to understand this song. And it brought me a great deal of laughter & entertainment on the opening stretch of the trip.

3.) "Pork and Beans" by Weezer

Because its awesome. Because it just came out. Because Weezer has written the latest anthem for non-conformists everywhere. And because when I explained this pilgrimage to people, I always heard feedback like, "You're going on a trip just to watch baseball games?" -and- "You're going on a trip like this by yourself?" YES. I AM. And I did. Because I like baseball, dang it. And because I can meet cool people along the way & hang out with old friends in big cities. And it turned out to be quite awesome... haters...

4.) "So Afraid" by Bebo Norman

If there was one thing that I discovered & recognized about MYSELF on this trip -- for the first time -- was how afraid I was at seemingly every turn. I am a total weeny. No, really -- I am. I was afraid of all these big cities, of leaving my rental car in parking lots, of riding subways, of how bad my knee was when I first hurt it. Real, exhilarating-and-brings-a-rush-of-adrenaline fear. But I faced & conquered each of these fears one by one. Sorta proud of myself for that. I reflected on it in my considerable amount of time on the road, happened upon this song one day in my iPod's shuffle mode, and grew a new appreciation for the lyrics.

5.) "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by Dropkick Murphys

Boston's best-loved Irish folk-rock band. Papelbon's tune. Watching Sox fans dance an Irish jig in the stands when Papelbon came in. I'll think of these things whenever I hear this song from now on...

6.) "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond

I haven't felt THAT much peace, joy, good-will toward my fellow man, et. al. warm fuzzies since I don't know when. Singing this song at Fenway was a warm experience that is difficult to describe. Part "fanhood rite of passage" & existential becoming mixed with part "Strange sense of Homecoming to a place I'd never been" (in a way that "this must be sorta like what Heaven will feel like one day" -- homecoming even though I've never been there) sensation. I know it sounds corny to say, but Fenway was sort of a religious experience for me. And I miss it. This even borders on sounding sacrilegious, but there's a yearning to experience that again, and a dull ache when I realize that it may be a long while. You know that line "I don't care if I never get back" (speaking of not returning home from the ballpark) from Take Me Out to the Ballgame? I feel that way about Fenway...

7.) "New York Groove" by Hello

I played this song as I was driving into NYC on Monday the 9th. I'll admit: it was an utterly cheesy moment as I sang along. But I was having fun with my first visit to NYC. And this cheesy sing-a-long song fit the moment.

8.) "Girls In Their Summer Clothes" by Bruce Springsteen

You just have to visit a big city on a hot day in the summer time to understand. Wow! If the word "eyeful" ever applied...

9.) "Your Hand In Mine" by Explosions in the Sky

I played a lot of Explosions in the Sky on my day driving through Pennsylvania. If you've never heard of them, they are the instrumental band that does the music for the television series "Friday Night Lights." You could listen to their music doing literally the most mundane thing in the world -- like, say, pooper-scooping after your dog -- and yet feel a melancholy sense of heroism. Great music.

10.) "Into the Fire" by Bruce Springsteen

Russert was apparently a big fan of The Boss, so they were playing his tunes in the background during MSNBC's coverage on that Friday in St. Louis. Especially this song, which is sort of a spirited dirge. So I downloaded it, and immediately clung to it. And I'll always think of Russert & St. Louis when I hear it.

11.) "Rise Above This" by Seether

When the Cards were getting blown out, and were bringing in a reliever, they blared this song over the speakers. I was intrigued, so I looked it up & downloaded it when I got back to the hotel. A fantastic rock tune! I sense some spiritual undertones, too; though, I had to download a "Clean" version since there is also apparently a "Restricted" version. A great song to sort of bring you back to a right frame of mind from depth of sorrow. I'll always think of Busch Stadium & the positive Cardinals fans when I hear this song.

12.) "Willow" by James Horner & The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra

This is a rendition of all the songs from the score of the film, "Willow," fit into a tidy little three minute & fifty-three second piece. I was in a soundtrack mood at one point on Saturday, my 12-hour driving day home from St. Louis. And I got stuck on this song for a little while. For one, it is a GREAT movie -- an epic tale of a little man who goes on a great adventure, plays a big surprisingly big role in the outcome of a great battle, only to return home again to his loved ones. Second, this was the first movie I ever went to see at the theater, and it was my Mom who took me -- just she & I. And, third, this was a GREAT, totally-underrated movie score that covers a wide range of emotions. And its a great song to end a playlist on.

Biggest Homer Call of "His or Any Other LIFE"

I was listening to the Dan Patrick Show podcast today, and they were cutting up about Yankee broadcaster John Sterling. You may remember that A-Rod started off last season scorching hot. Well, he had a walk-off homerun, and here was the call from Sterling:


So there you go. GREATEST month ever.

Sorry Jesus: A-Rod just trumped Passion week.

The Three Levels of MLB Druggies

I was listening to a podcast of Max Kellerman & Brian Kenny's radio show on ESPN Radio in NYC. And Kellerman mentioned that he had 3 levels of suspicion when it came to alleged steroid users.

I thought that that was an interesting concept. Here's my list, using his categories:

Level 1: "You juiced, I'm saying it, Sue me if you don't like it" [...] "I'm not accusing them -- I'm saying it as a matter of FACT"

Barry Bonds
Mark McGwire
Jose Canseco
Sammy Sosa
Rafael Palmeiro
Chuck Knoblauch
Bret Boone
Roger Clemens
Jason Giambi
Eric Gagne

Level 2: "I'm not saying as matter of fact that they did it, but I am saying that I'd like to play prosecutor in a case against them."

Lots of red flags around these guys, including radical weight changes, radical statistical changes, ridiculously amazing statistics, total career turn-arounds, and the like.

Ivan Rodriguez
Manny Ramirez
Miguel Tejada
Nomar Garciaparra
(Career went downhill with a wrist injury -- something about a split tendon & damage to the tendon sheath.)

David Ortiz
(Just hit the DL with a split tendon sheath in his wrist. Did they have this injury back in the 1960's?)

Mike Piazza
(Freakish numbers for a guy who played a rigorous position in pitcher's parks, and was originally drafted in like the 60th round of the MLB draft.)

Travis Hafner
(Great numbers one year, falls off the map the next year)

Level 3: Not saying they did it as a matter of fact, and not sure one could prove it in a court of law

Alex Rodriguez
(Canseco may be a snake in the grass, but he has a decent record when he points the finger.)

Pedro Martinez
(Had an awfully amazing fastball to come from such a scrawny body. And originally had a hard time getting MLB scouts to notice him.)

Who am I missing? I'll add them to the list.

Whiny Homer Announcers

The downside to expansion teams in baseball over the last 15 years is that I get to see less & less Braves baseball here in Florida. Braves used to be on "WTBS" every night back in the day. Now the MLB has contracted games out to Fox Sports Net, I only get to watch the Braves on TV whenever they are the Fox or ESPN game of the week.

The upside, however, is that I get to watch 19 Red Sox games per year. By virtue of playing the Tampa Bay Rays 19 times every season, I get to see those games on my local FSN affiliate. The Rays are playing in Boston this weekend, so I've enjoyed watching the games on TV.

There is a downside even to this, however. I have to listen to the poor souls who have the unenviable task of announcing all 162 Rays games every year. And it really shows. Bob Uecker, a.k.a. "Harry Doyle," made it funny in the movie "Major League." But these guys are clearly depressed. And it becomes evident when they start talking about the "privileged" Red Sox.

"Boy, how can these guys lay off pitches THAT close??"

They whine about every bad call, and the production crew show endless replays of it. Today, Ray Eric Hinskie had a double land in fair territory that the umps called foul, and these announcers won't let it go. In fact, they have some commercial sponsor that sponsors the "[So-and-So Company] Call of the Game." That just gave these whiners another excuse to wring their hands over that missed call again.

Kevin Youkilis especially draws the ire of these announcers. If there's a borderline pitch, and Youk doesn't swing at it, and the Ump calls it a ball, it drives them nuts. "Well, its never a strike if KEVIN YOUKILIS doesn't swing at it, apparently." "[Chuckle Chuckle]," goes the color man.

By the way... it is now the top of the 8th inning. (I'm totally not making this up.) And the FSN production team just showed the "Infiniti Unbelievable Play of the Game." And they showed a replay of Hinskie's fair ball that the umps called foul.

Its not that I'm angry that these Rays announcers are so sour & jaded. Its that I pity them. Let go of the bitterness & hate, guys!

Why Did Miguel Tejada Reveal His Age?

Some peculiar news came out yesterday morning. Houston Astros shortstop Miguel Tejada, out of the blue, seemingly volunteered to the Houston Chronicle the information that he is actually two years older than he had said he was. It was thought that he was 31; he's actually 33 years old.

Why did Miggy make this revelation all of a sudden?