Big Mac comes clean,
Mark McGwire admitted today what we all knew but waited 5 years to hear from Big Red.
"I never knew when, but I always knew this day would come. It's time for me to talk about the past and to confirm what people have suspected. I used steroids during my playing career and I apologize. I remember trying steroids very briefly in the 1989/1990 off season and then after I was injured in 1993, I used steroids again. I used them on occasion throughout the '90s, including during the 1998 season.”
Where do we go from here? It has been several years since Big Mac cranked his last home run and he is coming back to the game to be the hitting coach of the St. Louis Cardinals. Mark will never be looked at the same way, and that is something that he brought upon himself, but he does deserve forgiveness. Should we treat him like a hero? No, admitting that you have done something wrong is an expected behavior in our society. Should we continue to ostracize him? No! Mark, deserves better and should get better from the baseball community.
We just saw the election of Andre Dawson to the baseball hall of fame and I can only hope that the call for big mac will not be far away. Did mac cheat? Yes, he just admitted it. Does the hall of fame admit cheaters? I think they have already and will admit more in the future. The baseball hall of fame is a museum of people who played baseball at the highest level. It is not the integrity HOF, or the good guy HOF or the “I never used PED HOF.” We need to ask ourselves one question, “Does Mark McGwire belong in the HOF?” Any answer that does not end in yes would be an incorrect answer in my opinion. I think he will be in the HOF no earlier than 2011 but no later than 2014. And that is exactly where he belongs!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Disco Night at Rosenblatt
My plan started about a month ago. After being intrigued by Chris "Disco" Hayes' sub-80mph-submarine-stylings on the mound for the Omaha Royals (the AAA Class minor league affiliate of the Kansas City Royals), I decided that I had to try to see him pitch in person.* And, as the Winter Quarters temple is in Omaha, I could easily suggest that we tack on a baseball game to our monthly temple trip. Eventually we determined that we would leave work early Friday, attend a late-afternoon session at the temple, drive to the ballpark for a game, and then drive home to Kansas City. It made for a very long day, but one we won't soon forget.
In order for this story to make sense, you should probably read Disco's post about the day he was promoted from AA to AAA, aptly entitled: Promotions, Payback, and Poop Sticks.
With our trip to Omaha nearing, I started to wonder whether we should buy tickets ahead of time, or if there would be seats left for us to buy on gameday when we arrived at the ballpark. I had an idea to email Disco and ask him what attendance was like and if he thought we'd be okay buying tickets at the gate. But, when I hadn't heard back from him by Wednesday, my paranoia won out and I bought seats online.
Then, Friday morning we received a reply from Mr. Disco himself. I was thrilled that he had taken the time to send a quick note. He said that he hoped we would be able to make it to the game and that he would like us to come down to the dugout to say hi if we were there early enough. He also added, to "avoid a potentially awkward situation," he only signs brand new plungers. Well, that pretty much settled things. Although I was a little taken aback by his stance on active-duty plungers, I made up my mind to find a brand new plunger for him to sign.
When we got to our seats, Mr. Disco was nowhere to be found. We had only managed to arrive 30 minutes early, so I figured that unless we were able to find him after the game, I would be going home with an unsigned plunger. But then, about 10 minutes before the first pitch, I saw him signing some autographs along the third base line, just past their dugout. Brookie and I grabbed our stuff and headed that way. It felt like everyone was staring at us (okay, at me) because of the plunger I was carrying. But before we could make it to where he had been giving his autograph to kids in the stands, he had left and was on his way to the bullpen further down the foul line, where the seats had been sectioned off.
Somewhat undeterred, Brookie and I sat in some seats at the far end of the open sections closest to the bullpen, and I watched for Mr. Disco to look our way. When it looked like he was looking in our general direction, I raised the brand new plunger above my head and waved it. This caught his attention and elicited a big smile, and he heading back down our way while we went down to the first row of seats to say hello.
When he got close enough to be able to talk with us he said, still grinning, "You must be Todd." I acknowledged, said hello, and then he looked at Brookie and said, "And you must be Brooke." I was impressed. Not only did he know my name, but he also took the time to learn and remember my wife's name. I handed him the plunger and the Sharpie and he signed it for me. We even had another fan take our picture as proof.
Maybe you knew some baseball players in high school or college. If so, please accept my apologies, as many of them may be accurately described as 'jerks.' In my playing days I always maintained that I was not a baseball player; I just happened to play baseball. And maybe that's why I admire Disco Hayes. Actually that's only one reason, but it's a big one. He seemed to me to be much more than just a spoiled jerk in a baseball uniform. And after our "Disco Encounter" I'm even more convinced that he's more than just a baseball player.
He was extremely nice. And genuine. And what really impressed me was that he seemed glad to have met us. Even though the game was going to start, a fact I was conscious of, along with the idea that he was at work and we were interrupting, he was the one making conversation. He asked about our trip up to Omaha. He had followed a link in my email signature and come across my makeshift online portfolio and asked about one of the pieces. Then, seeing that Brookie had her scorebook in hand, asked if she would like him to sign it. He was about to sign it big and in the middle of a page, and then thought to ask if she was going to keep score, which she was, so he signed it down in one corner instead. Brookie hoped he had been impressed that she knew how to keep score.
Anyway, I can't really say enough nice things about this decent man following his dreams who happens to pitch for the Omaha Royals. He was a bright spot in what turned out to be a bit of a tough weekend for us (which will have to wait for another post). The home team lost that night. Disco didn't pitch. But we still had a great time.
In order for this story to make sense, you should probably read Disco's post about the day he was promoted from AA to AAA, aptly entitled: Promotions, Payback, and Poop Sticks.
With our trip to Omaha nearing, I started to wonder whether we should buy tickets ahead of time, or if there would be seats left for us to buy on gameday when we arrived at the ballpark. I had an idea to email Disco and ask him what attendance was like and if he thought we'd be okay buying tickets at the gate. But, when I hadn't heard back from him by Wednesday, my paranoia won out and I bought seats online.
Then, Friday morning we received a reply from Mr. Disco himself. I was thrilled that he had taken the time to send a quick note. He said that he hoped we would be able to make it to the game and that he would like us to come down to the dugout to say hi if we were there early enough. He also added, to "avoid a potentially awkward situation," he only signs brand new plungers. Well, that pretty much settled things. Although I was a little taken aback by his stance on active-duty plungers, I made up my mind to find a brand new plunger for him to sign.
When we got to our seats, Mr. Disco was nowhere to be found. We had only managed to arrive 30 minutes early, so I figured that unless we were able to find him after the game, I would be going home with an unsigned plunger. But then, about 10 minutes before the first pitch, I saw him signing some autographs along the third base line, just past their dugout. Brookie and I grabbed our stuff and headed that way. It felt like everyone was staring at us (okay, at me) because of the plunger I was carrying. But before we could make it to where he had been giving his autograph to kids in the stands, he had left and was on his way to the bullpen further down the foul line, where the seats had been sectioned off.
Somewhat undeterred, Brookie and I sat in some seats at the far end of the open sections closest to the bullpen, and I watched for Mr. Disco to look our way. When it looked like he was looking in our general direction, I raised the brand new plunger above my head and waved it. This caught his attention and elicited a big smile, and he heading back down our way while we went down to the first row of seats to say hello.
When he got close enough to be able to talk with us he said, still grinning, "You must be Todd." I acknowledged, said hello, and then he looked at Brookie and said, "And you must be Brooke." I was impressed. Not only did he know my name, but he also took the time to learn and remember my wife's name. I handed him the plunger and the Sharpie and he signed it for me. We even had another fan take our picture as proof.
Maybe you knew some baseball players in high school or college. If so, please accept my apologies, as many of them may be accurately described as 'jerks.' In my playing days I always maintained that I was not a baseball player; I just happened to play baseball. And maybe that's why I admire Disco Hayes. Actually that's only one reason, but it's a big one. He seemed to me to be much more than just a spoiled jerk in a baseball uniform. And after our "Disco Encounter" I'm even more convinced that he's more than just a baseball player.
He was extremely nice. And genuine. And what really impressed me was that he seemed glad to have met us. Even though the game was going to start, a fact I was conscious of, along with the idea that he was at work and we were interrupting, he was the one making conversation. He asked about our trip up to Omaha. He had followed a link in my email signature and come across my makeshift online portfolio and asked about one of the pieces. Then, seeing that Brookie had her scorebook in hand, asked if she would like him to sign it. He was about to sign it big and in the middle of a page, and then thought to ask if she was going to keep score, which she was, so he signed it down in one corner instead. Brookie hoped he had been impressed that she knew how to keep score.
Anyway, I can't really say enough nice things about this decent man following his dreams who happens to pitch for the Omaha Royals. He was a bright spot in what turned out to be a bit of a tough weekend for us (which will have to wait for another post). The home team lost that night. Disco didn't pitch. But we still had a great time.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The list!!
Baseball and the List!
Baseball has a problem. They have a big problem and they need to correct it. Over the past several months, several names of players, who tested positive for performance enhancing drugs, have leaked out from a drug testing that took place in 2003. This was supposed to be a survey testing that was done to see just how many people in that game were juiced and 104 players came back with positive samples. 104? Think about that. They told them that there was a test coming and 104 players still could not pass the test and tested positive. Slowly, those names have started to come out and they are the biggest names in the game. Alex Rodriguez, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez are the biggest names and we haven’t even seen 5% of the list. Should baseball release the whole list and take their lumps or should they just let the list come out slowly through media outlets as they have to date. Here are the two sides.
Do not release the list! This was never meant to be official testing and was only meant to be done to gather data. The players only agreed to testing after an assurance that something like this would not happen. Because that is the agreement, you can’t go back on your word and change your mind in the face of public pressure.
Release the List! Baseball is dirty and needs to improve its image. The more they try to cover this up, the worse they look and right now, baseball looks really, really bad. First, the owners and the commissioner; I don’t believe for a second that they didn’t know what was happening in the 1990’s when records were being rewritten on a daily basis. I think they were completely aware of what was happening and chose not to do anything because it was making so much money. Ticket sales were up, jersey sales were up and nobody blew the whistle. Steroids haven’t been against the rules but they have been against the LAW!!! What about all the taxpayer dollars that were used to fund the stadiums where these violations occurred. If the senate and congress had any stones, they would have hearings with the owners and ask them, under oath, why they allowed illegal activities to take place in stadiums that were publicly funded. Let’s find out what they know and when they knew it.
The players are culpable as well. The players union for baseball is one of the most despicable organizations in America. For years they have fought to keep this under wraps and they have suppressed any half-hearted attempts by the owners to clean up baseball. They have created a culture where every player is assumed to be guilty until proven innocent and nobody was shocked when papi and many were named as people who were using PED’s. The players need to restore their own credibility but will not do so.
If you can’t already tell by my post, you should know which side I am on. Baseball needs to take their lumps and release the list. If they want to truly distance themselves from the steroid era, they should release the names and hand out suspensions. Also, they should fine the owners of the teams that these players were on. They allowed this to happen and they need to share in the blame for what has become of America’s game.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Number 18
Perfection is rare. Yesterday Mark Buehrle threw history's 18th perfect game when he faced the Tampa Bay Rays. 27 men came to the plate, and all 27 were retired. It truly is an amazing feat. It had been over five years since Major League Baseball's last perfect game, thrown by Randy Johnson, then with the Arizona Diamondbacks.
As luck would have it, yesterday afternoon, while most of the working class was stuck in their cosy, little cubicles, I was working nearby a television that my brother-in-law just happened to be watching. It was him that informed me that he had just seen that Buehrle was working on a perfect game with only six outs to go. He had seen the breaking news scroll by on the ticker at the bottom of the screen of whatever show he was watching at the time.
I told him to find ESPN. I was certain that they would join the game in progress if history was going to be made. They interrupted an NFL-specific program and went live to Chicago where Buehrle was starting the top of the ninth inning, having been perfect through the first eight.
To set the stage, here's what was going through my mind when I assessed the situation: First, Buehrle had been perfect so far. That's obvious. But that means that he had gone the entire game without issuing a walk, only pitching to three batters each inning. Pitch count could definitely be a factor, but I hoped he had enough gas in the tank to finish it out.
Next, since he had retired the Rays' lineup in order for eight straight innings, the 7th, 8th, and 9th batters in their lineup were due up in that inning. They are still major leaguers, but not as tough to retire as the heart of their order would have been.
Also, the game was in Chicago. Everyone at U.S. Cellular Field knew the situation, and I can only imagine the electricity in the air. In the movie, For Love of the Game Billy Chapel throws his perfect game on the road in New York City. The difference for Buehrle here is that the entire crowd was rooting for the perfect game, not hoping someone could walk, or manage a hit to break it up, like it would be if he had been pitching in Tampa instead.
Now remember that not only do the fans realize that history could potentially be made that afternoon, but so do all of the players. I'm sure none of them said anything (in Chicago's dugout, at least), but they all knew. That puts a lot of pressure on the position players to be perfect as well. There were plenty of nerves behind Buehrle as the ninth inning began.
Buehrle works quickly. His rhythm is three or four beats faster than your average pitcher. In fact, before ESPN had time to join the game in progress, the count was already 1-2 on the Rays' number seven hitter, Gabe Gross. As I watched, I thought about how sad it would be if he singled or walked and ruined the perfect game as the first batter in the ninth inning, the first batter after the nation tuned in to witness history.
Then, on a 2-2 count, Gross lifted a pitch to left-center. Dewayne Wise, the defensive replacement that had entered the game in the ninth inning was running hard to the ball. My first thought was it was going to be in the gap. You know a ball is hit well when you see the outfielders react like that. Wise kept running hard, nearly to the fence. This ball had a chance to not only end the perfect game, but the no-hitter, and the shutout as well. Then I saw one of the most amazing plays I have ever seen live. Wise, still running at full speed, leapt and crashed into the wall, extending his glove nearly two feet above the fence and bringing back the would-be homerun. But then, as he came back down, he saw the ball start to slip out of his glove. Falling to the ground after hitting the wall at full-speed, he reached out with his bare hand and secured the ball for the first out of the ninth and the 25th out of the still-perfect game. My wife, my brother-in-law, and I were all speechless when we saw that play. The replays showed the greatness of that catch in slow motion, but seeing it happen live at game speed, thinking one second that the perfect game was over, and the next second not even being able to think at all, was... incredible.
Now with one out, the number eight hitter in the lineup came to the plate. I can only imagine that with each out, each pitch, the pressure is increasing exponentially for everyone, but especially for Buehrle. Michel Hernandez worked the count to 3-1. It was still hard to tell if Buehrle was getting tired because he was still keeping pace with his normal techno-beat rhythm. Get the ball. Get the sign. Pitch. Repeat. I was nervous just watching him as he released that 3-1 fastball. But there was no hesitation in his delivery, and it found the outside half of the plate for strike two. But the count was still full. He could have tightened up and thrown a pitch in the dirt and it would have been ball four, bye-bye perfect game. He threw an outside change-up and Hernandez swung and missed for the second out of the inning and the 26th overall.
The last batter was Jason Bartlett, who is no easy out by any means. Bartlett bounced the 2-1 pitch to the shortstop Alexei Ramirez. I can't be sure, but I think I, along with the 28,036 people at the ballpark that afternoon, held my breath. It was a routine ground ball, but not a routine out. A successful putout would mean a perfect game, only the 18th ever thrown at baseball's highest level. The shortstop fielded the groundball and it looked like his throw was a little stiff. He may have tried to aim the ball to first base. I know I would have.
The throw came in a little high, but the first baseman, Josh Fields, caught it with his foot on the bag, completing a perfect day for his team, their town, their fans, and their pitcher, Mark Buehrle.
As luck would have it, yesterday afternoon, while most of the working class was stuck in their cosy, little cubicles, I was working nearby a television that my brother-in-law just happened to be watching. It was him that informed me that he had just seen that Buehrle was working on a perfect game with only six outs to go. He had seen the breaking news scroll by on the ticker at the bottom of the screen of whatever show he was watching at the time.
I told him to find ESPN. I was certain that they would join the game in progress if history was going to be made. They interrupted an NFL-specific program and went live to Chicago where Buehrle was starting the top of the ninth inning, having been perfect through the first eight.
To set the stage, here's what was going through my mind when I assessed the situation: First, Buehrle had been perfect so far. That's obvious. But that means that he had gone the entire game without issuing a walk, only pitching to three batters each inning. Pitch count could definitely be a factor, but I hoped he had enough gas in the tank to finish it out.
Next, since he had retired the Rays' lineup in order for eight straight innings, the 7th, 8th, and 9th batters in their lineup were due up in that inning. They are still major leaguers, but not as tough to retire as the heart of their order would have been.
Also, the game was in Chicago. Everyone at U.S. Cellular Field knew the situation, and I can only imagine the electricity in the air. In the movie, For Love of the Game Billy Chapel throws his perfect game on the road in New York City. The difference for Buehrle here is that the entire crowd was rooting for the perfect game, not hoping someone could walk, or manage a hit to break it up, like it would be if he had been pitching in Tampa instead.
Now remember that not only do the fans realize that history could potentially be made that afternoon, but so do all of the players. I'm sure none of them said anything (in Chicago's dugout, at least), but they all knew. That puts a lot of pressure on the position players to be perfect as well. There were plenty of nerves behind Buehrle as the ninth inning began.
Buehrle works quickly. His rhythm is three or four beats faster than your average pitcher. In fact, before ESPN had time to join the game in progress, the count was already 1-2 on the Rays' number seven hitter, Gabe Gross. As I watched, I thought about how sad it would be if he singled or walked and ruined the perfect game as the first batter in the ninth inning, the first batter after the nation tuned in to witness history.
Then, on a 2-2 count, Gross lifted a pitch to left-center. Dewayne Wise, the defensive replacement that had entered the game in the ninth inning was running hard to the ball. My first thought was it was going to be in the gap. You know a ball is hit well when you see the outfielders react like that. Wise kept running hard, nearly to the fence. This ball had a chance to not only end the perfect game, but the no-hitter, and the shutout as well. Then I saw one of the most amazing plays I have ever seen live. Wise, still running at full speed, leapt and crashed into the wall, extending his glove nearly two feet above the fence and bringing back the would-be homerun. But then, as he came back down, he saw the ball start to slip out of his glove. Falling to the ground after hitting the wall at full-speed, he reached out with his bare hand and secured the ball for the first out of the ninth and the 25th out of the still-perfect game. My wife, my brother-in-law, and I were all speechless when we saw that play. The replays showed the greatness of that catch in slow motion, but seeing it happen live at game speed, thinking one second that the perfect game was over, and the next second not even being able to think at all, was... incredible.
Now with one out, the number eight hitter in the lineup came to the plate. I can only imagine that with each out, each pitch, the pressure is increasing exponentially for everyone, but especially for Buehrle. Michel Hernandez worked the count to 3-1. It was still hard to tell if Buehrle was getting tired because he was still keeping pace with his normal techno-beat rhythm. Get the ball. Get the sign. Pitch. Repeat. I was nervous just watching him as he released that 3-1 fastball. But there was no hesitation in his delivery, and it found the outside half of the plate for strike two. But the count was still full. He could have tightened up and thrown a pitch in the dirt and it would have been ball four, bye-bye perfect game. He threw an outside change-up and Hernandez swung and missed for the second out of the inning and the 26th overall.
The last batter was Jason Bartlett, who is no easy out by any means. Bartlett bounced the 2-1 pitch to the shortstop Alexei Ramirez. I can't be sure, but I think I, along with the 28,036 people at the ballpark that afternoon, held my breath. It was a routine ground ball, but not a routine out. A successful putout would mean a perfect game, only the 18th ever thrown at baseball's highest level. The shortstop fielded the groundball and it looked like his throw was a little stiff. He may have tried to aim the ball to first base. I know I would have.
The throw came in a little high, but the first baseman, Josh Fields, caught it with his foot on the bag, completing a perfect day for his team, their town, their fans, and their pitcher, Mark Buehrle.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Going Deep!!!
We Americans love a good debate! We all have an opinion and we don’t mind sharing that opinion on anything, everything, but usually on nothing. We will sit in chat rooms and debate for hours, with someone we likely haven’t met face to face, on who was the best pitcher, hitter, manager, fielder, team, or owner of all time. We usually don’t arrive at a consensus of any kind and further entrench ourselves in our original opinions and leave with a lower opinion of those with whom we have spent our time.
What does this do with baseball? I think this is precisely the genesis of the all-star game. One day, a long time ago, some baseball higher-ups where talking and got into a debate on what would happen if the best players from the American and National Leagues got together for an Exhibition. The first of which took place in 1933 and has been held ever since with the exception of 1945. One note of interest is that from 1959 – 1962, there were two all-star games held each year about a month apart each time.
Baseball is the only sport that takes its all-star game seriously. Football players recognize it as an end of the season party and their only goal is to spend a week in Hawaii without getting hurt. The NBA has turned their game into a game without defense and makes no attempt, just as the NFL, to stage a serious game. But baseball on the other hand, they give the home field advantage to the winning league for the World Series. When the 2002 All-star game ended in a tie, there was uproar in America. Baseball games don’t end in ties!!! How dare they allow an exhibition to finish without a clear winner! Because of this, and mainly rating, the concept of home field advantage for the winning league was conceived. This idea is one of the great failures of Bud Selig. Exhibition games should not affect the course of a world championship. Basketball does not let a game of HORSE decide who gets to host games 1 & 2 of the Finals nor does any other league demand so much from a game that doesn’t even count in the standings. Baseball should give home field advantage to the team with the best record and leave it at that.
My grievance with the All-star game notwithstanding, there is one event that I look forward to. It is the only all-star event that I would ever consider attending and paying for it with my own money. The home run derby is the greatest event of any of the all-star activities in any sport. It is better than the dunk contest, 3-point contest, and better than whatever the NFL does. Home runs are the ultimate achievement in sports. Few people know what the record is for most 3-pointers, dunks, assists, touchdowns, completions, or blocks but the average sports fan knows the significance of the numbers 61, 70, and 73. The home run chase of 1996 is what saved baseball from the strike of 1994 and will be the poster image for the performance enhancing drug era of baseball.
For one night, everyone is swinging for the fences and several fans are going home with a souvenir. The night belongs to the person who can consistently crush the ball and hit it into the stands, bullpen, river or bay. In a regular season game, home runs of any kind are equally cheered but during the derby, style points count. People want to see the home runs that go 520 feet, and they want to see it time after time. In 2008, Josh Hamilton did not win the contest, but he put on the best show with 28 home runs in the first round. A truly timeless performance which make the home run derby, the best of its kind. If NASCAR could have a night where they only have crashes, this would be the only comparison. The Dunk contest is more miss than hit and the 3-point contest is never anything special. I can hit a 3-pointer, given enough chances, but I can’t hit a ball 475 feet.
So let the debate continue. We may not another performance like Josh Hamilton ‘s, but you will be entertained and you will be in awe as major leaguers go deep, jump ship, and swing for the fences!!
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