Divided Attention

Thou shalt not commit adultery. It's one of the Ten Commandments--or if the Bible offends you, it's at least good advice. Cheating on your spouse is pretty cut and dry. You vow to love and honor only him or her forever. If you don't, you're in big trouble (unless, of course, you're a character in a prime time series on ABC, or a slick former President whose wife needed you for future political aspirations). But, with this basic law in mind, is it right for a person to pledge allegiance to both the Boston Red Sox and the Los Angeles Dodgers?

There are some combinations that can never exist. You can't be both a Cubs fan and a Cardinals supporter. You definitely can't own team gear for both teams from the Windy City. In the Big Apple, you're either for the Mets or the Yanks. And can you even begin to imagine the blasphemy of a person devoted to both the the Bombers from the Bronx and the Boys of Beantown? Me neither.

But what about less intrusive duos? What about the Seattle Mariners and the Cincinnati Reds? It could be kind of a Griffey thing, you know? Or maybe some of you root for the Cubbies and the Sox (Red, of course). Up until a few years ago, that was me. I find it fun to cheer for underdogs, and before 2004, neither had held a championship trophy for a combined 182 years. I also liked the Angels because of watching their AAA team in Salt Lake City, and having attended a game in Anaheim with some friends.

But my days of promiscuity are long gone. I can no longer publicly wear my Angels t-shirt in good conscience. I haven't worn a piece of Red Sox clothing for well over a year. When we moved to Kansas City, I already followed the Royals, but now I'm fully vested in the home team. And, when you are that devoted to one team, there's no room for any other.

There are exceptions to every rule, of course. The biggest loop hole for team fidelity is also the first law of real estate: location, location, location. Not living in a Major League city allows for all sorts of variation. Take Utah, for example. In basketball, there's the Jazz. For college sports, you're either Blue or Red (unless you cop-out and align yourself with Utah State). But for baseball, the door is wide open. Geographically, there are the Rockies and the Diamondbacks, but realistically, I never felt like those clubs really took root in Utah. Many people just follow teams back East or on the West coast. With the Cubs always on WGN growing up, many kids were big Andre Dawson and Ryne Sandberg fans. The Braves also gain a good following because of their exclusive cable deal with TBS. So, if you're in a place like North Dakota and the only professional baseball around is the Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks, feel free to pick and choose.

Fantasy Baseball: Living in a Dream World

The other day I saw an advertisement on ESPN.com for a live chat with one of their baseball experts. The subject was Fantasy Baseball, or more specifically, who should your first pick be, Alex Rodriguez or Albert Pujols. I didn't login to join the debate. To be honest, I would have rather listened to another John Edwards concession speech.

It wasn't too long ago that I loved Fantasy Baseball. I couldn't get enough of it. The first time I played, I was invited to join a friend's league. I drafted fairly well and I made some great pickups, and about 52,468 roster moves later, I was the league champion. I raked the free agent market looking for who was hot. I crunched all kinds of numbers. I researched all sorts of minutia that would make your head explode. I knew whether Jimmy Rollins had a better average against right-handers or left-handers. I even knew the difference between his average at home and away, against right-handed and left-handed pitchers. And after that season, when it ended, I felt a definite hole inside of me. It had been such a big part of my life for so long, that I didn't know what to do with myself. I would mindlessly browse every baseball website in the free world to get my fix, wandering through the muck of the off-season that people put out when there's really nothing to say about the sport.

When the next season came around, I was so stoked. I created my own league, and invited all of my friends and my brothers to join. Most of the people that read this blog were part of that short-lived league. That league was a little more fun because I knew everyone in it, and most of the players knew each other as well. I broke my previous record with 58,231 roster moves, and set all-time marks for minimal work accomplished at my job. Again, it enveloped me. Every free minute I had was researching my team and the free-agent market. I came in second that year.

But, towards the end of that season we moved to Kansas City and attended some Royals games. It was then that I noticed another crucial drawback to Fantasy Baseball, besides the obvious aspects of addiction: It began to get in the way of actual baseball. I started to care much more about numbers than the game itself. I also became torn between whether to root for my home team, or for "my" players who happened to be playing for the visiting team. For example, Victor Martinez anchored my catching position for both of my Fantasy seasons, and he put up some really good offensive numbers for me. But, then he came to town to play the Royals. I wanted him to do well for my Fantasy team, but I didn't want him to burn my actual team. I hated it. And it happened more and more, the further down the road of "Royals-fan-for-life" I traveled.

That was the last time I played in a Fantasy League. The following season I might not have known which pitcher had the lowest WHIP in the league, which 2nd baseman had the best strikeout to walk ratio, or who were the hot prospects in the Mariners organization that were about to hit the scene, but I did enjoy the actual game infinitely more. I could go out to the stadium and cheer for the home team and not worry about if someone else in my fantasy league had David DeJesus on their roster. I could root against the Red Sox and the Indians because I no longer had any sort of a vested interest in how they performed. I was a Fan again. To some degree, Fantasy Baseball had taken that away, but I broke the cycle. And my wife and my employer are forever grateful.

By the way, I'd take Albert every time.

When Championships are Won

Steve Cramblitt, my high school baseball coach always stressed the concept that "championships are won during the off-season." At this time of year when so many people are concerned with other things, like whether or not college football should have a playoff to crown a champion like every other competitive sport, there are pitchers working on controlling their change-ups, catchers working on their footwork, infielders taking ground balls in the gym, and hitters wearing out batting cage netting.

These days, in order to be competitive, baseball has become a full-time, year-round sport. Back before the days of multi-million dollar contracts, many ballplayers had to take odd jobs in the off-season to be able to pay the winter heating bill. Consequently, many players would show up for Spring Training entirely out of shape. They needed the month of pre-season work to get back into playing condition.

Today, players spend the bulk of the off-season training and working to improve weaknesses in their game. To assist the developmental process, many organizations assign young players to warmer climates to compete in various winter leagues. By the time the official start of spring training arrives, most players are physically ready, and use the time for the fine tuning involved in the game.

The season is not too far off now. Before you know it, pitchers and catchers will be reporting to Spring Training, and the position players won't be far behind. For those like me, who check their teams' web sites daily, despite the lack of actual news, baseball can't come soon enough.