(Once More) Unto the Breach

Ok, so I'll grant that Yankee Stadium at least deserves another blog post before its demolished, especially considering that two dyed-in-the-wool Sox fans have spoken eloquently in its defense.

Here's an excerpt of what my friend Maggie wrote:

"am i the only person who is angry and dumbfounded with the closing of yankee stadium? WHY ARE THEY CLOSING THEIR DOORS???? last night i felt a lump in my throat watching the festivities, listening to yogi and whitey ford, watching the clips -- even seeing bernie williams made me teary. that is sacred ground, and the yankees should play there forever. no one should have wanted to close its doors, but since some people are truly evil and actually wanted to for eventual financial gain, they shouldn't have had the chance -- it should be a historical site, protected by the national government.

when i am forced to have a conversation with a yankee fan, the way i get beyond my knee jerk distaste for them is by talking about not what makes us different (NYY vs BOS) but what makes us the same. what on earth could that be, you ask? our LOVE OF BASEBALL. and one of the most beautiful parts of baseball is its long and rich history...a history packed full of memories and moments that have been passed down for more than a century.

i hate the yankees more than anyone, and yet i am so so so sad they are leaving such a precious place. there aren't that many physical locations in the world where so much history has taken place...

and why didn't yankee fans protest this like they would in boston if they tried to tear down fenway park? didn't they all freak out when they renovated it in the '70s? you'd think this would bring even more criticism. us new yorkers are paying $70M of our tax dollars for this project. i feel so dirty to be involved.

i just think this is a crime. last night felt like a televised execution to me.

on the plus side, how cool would it be if the yankees never won another world series again after the move? long live The Curse Of The New Stadium!"

And my friend Marc wrote (in comments to yesterday's post)

"I have to say...it's a real shame for the place to go. Damn the infinite Sinatra loop, but that's a Yankee fan thing, not a Yankee Stadium thing. Same for the beer tosses; same for the asshole fans. You'll see: all that crap will follow the team across the street, but the stadium and its history will not. The history, the ghosts, the center of baseball's true capitol...that stuff is that stadium; it is in itself the closest connection to its past. Without all of that mystique, there would be no significance to that place; and if you can appreciate what has transpired there, the great well of baseball drama and lore that has sprung from that field, then you should mourn its demise at least somewhat. It's a symbol of baseball's great past, the site of the great blossoming in baseball's history, and it's an American landmark. That stadium served to represent so much about The Game, and that city, and none of it will be quite the same without it."

And that's two Sox fans.

Which makes Maggie's question- "why didn't yankee fans protest this like they would in boston if they tried to tear down fenway park?"- all the more salient.

Exactly. These are yankees fans we're talking about. i just googled 'save yankee stadium', and there's very little evidence of any public support. remember all those 'save fenway park' bumper stickers in the early'00s, and the public outcry? i've never noticed anything at all like that here. i don't remember anyone here saying the yankees shouldn't move. i've never seen one t shirt or bumper sticker or anything that indicates there's any public sentiment against moving.

this is entirely fitting with the yankees character; they know that they'll make more money in a new stadium, so the fans are in favor of it- that's what they care about. For the Yankees, 'meaning' is just 'money' spelled wrong.

Now, whether the park itself should be protected as a landmark, as Maggie suggests, upon the team moving out is a distinct question from whether the team should move out at all. Apparently, the building itself doesn't get protected landmark status due to the consensus that the renovations in the 70's so dramatically altered the recognizable features that it's virtually not the same park anymore. City agencies aren't even giving the issue a public hearing; if the public was clamoring that this was outrageous, I'm sure they would.

But this prompts the question as to what extent the stadium is 'owned' by the public, specifically Yankees fans, such that the fate of the park should be determined by such dubious entities as public sentiment or rancor, or whether the right thing to do would have to be independently discerned and executed independently of their desires. Perhaps Yankees fans, in their insatiable quest for escalating payrolls and third place finishes, are happy to molt their old stadium as befitting the snakes they are. (zing.) Or perhaps they should be saved from themselves; Marc is certainly right that they'll take their jerkiness with them to the new stadium, and aren't likely to change of their own accord. Perhaps History belongs not just to Yankee fans but to everyone, in which case the Yankees are being particularly selfish in hording it for themselves. Perhaps its not 'their' park at all. Why should they be exclusively proprietary over history? Why shouldn't Sox fans get to complain; it's our history, too, even it's lousy history.

The points about a common baseball history are well taken; even Joe Dimaggio counts as 'our' history, as Baseball, aka The Game, is a higher unity that transcends even sox/yankees division. And so the provincial history of the Bronx borough is lower in the hierarchy of Forms than is History, which in turn must defer to Baseball, aka The Game, as the ultimate in meaningful ideals which subsumes them all. And it would be just like the Yankees to think they're bigger than The Game, and to abandon History for the sake of a $250 million payroll and a 4th place finish (as naturally payroll and standings are inversely related, I induce.) So I can admit to feeling the twinge in the demolishing of even the hated Yankee Stadium, insofar as it is subsumed by its place in the Game, and I can even happily continue to hate the Yankees for thinking its theirs to destroy, and for Yankees fans for failing to stick up for the larger issues at stake, and place party, or team, over country, or sport.

On the other hand, its just so in character; the evil empire needs a new Death Star. How can we take that away from them? They wouldn't 'be' the Yankees if they couldn't do whatever they possibly could to be as corporate and tramply as possible.

Imagine: It would be funny if they were penalized for their success; suppose that because so much history took place there, they became prohibited from ever moving out, and in another 100 years when every other stadium figures out how to compress seats like microchips and have 1 million capacity stadiums, and the yankees have a fraction of that and become the lowest payroll team as they'd still be restricted to a 20th century analog stadium, and then they'd become the scrappy low payroll underdogs who'd we be forced to cheer for because of their pluck and gritty hard nosed play...

What a strange future that'd be. Maybe this is for the best.

Orsilloing a Cloak; Book Review of "Dirty Water: A Red Sox Mystery"

Philosophy books don’t really have endings that can be ruined. Though they contain conclusions, there’s little suspense in getting there. A reader doesn’t wonder, biting his nails- will he use modus ponens? Reductio ad absurdum? Or will he blunder, affirming the consequent? Conclusions, although the name implies the end, are typically stated up front. And so when discussing such books, I don’t have to worry about spoiling anything.

Not so with a mystery novel. I’m not sure I’ve ever even read a mystery novel before; as a philosopher, I like my problems solved right away, and as a Sox fan, I’m pretty sure ahead of time how everything will turn out. But Jere Smith, author of a great Sox blog, co-wrote a mystery novel with his mother, Mary-Ann Tirone Smith, a veteran mystery author, and as this mystery is entitled “Dirty Water: A Red Sox Mystery”, Jere sent me (and others) an advance copy of the book, asked for a review, and so here we are.

So, not sure how to talk about a mystery novel without giving away the plot, I’ll put it this way. I hate exercising. I don’t like sweating unless I’m winning. I recently bought an exercise bike, and the only way I’m going to use it is if I am sufficiently distracted from focusing on my frailty and mortality, so that 30 minutes 3 times a weak isn’t a jail sentence. I read most of Jere’s book on my exercise bike, and now I’m holding up my too big pants and grinning like a dope! In other words, the book was compelling enough to successfully pass the all-important ‘distracted me from wheezing and thinking of dying test.’

The novel features brief appearances from actual Red Sox players, and some of their imagined antics and dialogue are amusing- among my favorite lines are “Schilling unsnapped the onesie at the crotch and took off the soaking diaper”, and “Youkilis said, ‘there’s a lot of Jewish Hispanics, Papi.’” These appearances are mostly at the beginning, as the story takes off from the discovery of a baby abandoned in the Red Sox clubhouse. The mystery develops as the gritty detectives on the case follow a trail of homicide, intrigue, and felonious dealings in the shady business of recruiting foreign ballplayers.

A distinctive aspect of the book is that it features a Red Sox blogger, (presumably) penned by Jere, whose blog posts play a key role in the plot. (If only my blog posts had such clout…) Writers and readers of Sox blogs will probably get a kick out this, especially those not-fictional folks who are name-dropped (though those of us who are not, such as myself, might feel left out. :))

There is definitely a target audience for this book- readers of Sox blogs are not everyone (sadly), and the story is very much set in Boston, with jokes about navigating I-93, and references to places like the Middle East in Cambridge. And the novel does presuppose a quite a bit of familiarity with Sox culture; references to Jerry Remy smoking, Don Orsillo eating donuts, and even speculation that Globe sportswriter Amalie Benjamin thinks bloggers are “weirdos” would probably not go over, in say, Russia.

But that probably wouldn’t bother the Smiths- the setting is of course not just geographical but emotional, and the book knows it’s audience. There’s a stark division drawn between the real Bostonian and the tourist, the true fan and the pink hat, so to speak. Though this is potentially alienating for those on the other side of this iron curtain, this inclusive hardcore Boston affect will satisfy those who wish to derail the bandwagon: tourists are mocked for trying to get into the Lansdowne’s Cask’n Flagon, California is denigrated for not having Thomas’ English muffins for 20 years after Massachusetts did, and one character is surprised to see that a young Sox fan’s hat is so frayed, which belies the fan’s dedication to The Team.

In the meantime, remember, this is a twists-and-turns murder mystery. It’s just that I’m not going to talk about that.

Finally, despite the dark subject matter, the book also features a morally unambiguous community of good-seekers and well-wishers; there’s an I’ll-get-him-if-its-the-last-thing-I’ll-do ethos from the folks directly tied to the action, and a we’re-all-in-this-together-collective-emotion from folks less directly tied. (Misanthropes and others skeptical of roll-up-your-sleeves altruism be warned.)

Done with Dirty Water, I’m getting back on my stationary bike and starting ‘the Case of the Disappearing Yankees World Series Rings’…

Hope Stick

Everyone's got that warm heartfelt emotional meaningful vs. cold logical mathematical dispassionate dichotomy going. So while the numbers assure us- the Sox lead the Yankees by 6 games in the wild card race with only 29 games remaining, and according to some metric listed on the ESPN standings page, the Sox have an 87.6 percent chance of making the playoffs, whereas the Yankees have a minuscule 2.3, this 3-2 Yankees come from behind win gives the Yankees warm heartfelt emotional hope.

And when there's hope, the numbers be damned. Hope, optimism, determination yielding the miraculous, spring in your step joy in tomorrow. Yankee fans shouldn't have that. Though the odds are against them, they're not dead yet. The Sox missed their chance to put the nail in the coffin, to bury the Yanks along with their stadium. Though the numbers may hold up, for one day, at least, the Yanks get to transcend the numbers, to feel, to hope, to dream, to revel in the alleged meaning of their legacy, to ignore the cold hard numerical financial reality of leaving their traditional home.

Yet somehow the YES network got the whole emotional heartful meaningful vs. cold numbers thing wrong. During the 8th inning, they played a promo for Yankee stadiums' final hurrah with maudlin music and clips of Yankees legends with angelic auras gazing meaningfully into the distance, towards the end of which Kay's voiceover says 'come celebrate the final season of Yankee Stadium with Yankees calculator day. The first 15, 000 fans get a Yankees team calculator...'

Nothing says 'meaning and sentiment' like a calculator. And of course, they'd need one to calculate the astronomical discrepancy between the payrolls of the yanks and rays, the team taking their place in the postseason.

But I bristle. I can't get over Francona giving them hope; you just can't pitch to Giambi as a pinch hitter with two outs as the tying run in the 7th with first base open. Walk Giambi, you put the tying run on base, yes, but it's Damon up with two down, and then potentially Jeter, and neither home run hitters. Against the Yankees, I'm always defensive. Minimize the catastrophe; avoid the agony. Don't gamble on getting Giambi to pop out, even if that's the likely scenario. Against the Yankees, do whatever you can possibly do to avoid the worst case scenario, the humiliation. If your OBP is less than .500, the number says you're more likely to get out than not. But you can't give them hope, the hope that goes over and above the numbers. It's the Yankees, goddam it. I just can't stand to let them have a hero, to be dramatic, to beat the odds, to put dollar bills in the thongs of Mystique and Aura. Those women should put on reasonable clothes and take a nice desk job, by the book. Maybe some number crunching. Nothing too exciting.

Manny Existing Manny

Time doesn't flow the same way for all parties concerned. Fans are fans for life. Businessmen have careers that span generations. But ballplayers can only be ballplayers for a very short period of time.

After the age of 32, every second of every day sees a ballplayer dwindle and decay, and become less and less himself. Not so for the other parties. Businessmen perhaps become more savvy in middle age. Fans become more experienced, have longer memories. They grow into their skins, develop their identities over the years.

Not ballplayers. They just get shittier and shittier until they can't be ballplayers anymore, at an age where other professions are just getting started. And then there's a whole lot of life left.

They can't all go into broadcasting; too many already do.

Some ballplayers are lucky and develop other careers, and form new identities for themselves. Others live off their name, selling white wall tires or family friendly restaurants.

But every player knows their window is short, their skills are ephemeral, and what and who they are will die long before they do.

Manny may or may not know, believe, or agree with any of this. But it's in the back of my mind anytime I feel the urge to blame a player for wanting to be paid whatever he can get for the superhero talents he knows aren't long for this world, before he turns into Clark Kent forever. And it's in the back of my mind when I try to figure out who to side with in a dispute- the rare baseball talent who we pay to see, and whose life expectancy is just about up, or the front office business men, who I don't pay to see, and who can go on being front office business men for 50 more years (in Theo's case, at least), or me, who will keep on watching the games and going about my business.

That's not to say that Manny is absolved; by all accounts, Manny was a Grade A asshole. I'm not denying that. But I don't doubt that there's at least a half-truth in one of Manny's statements, because the Front Office probably did make Nomar and Pedro and Manny all feel one particular way, and whether it was intentional or not is immaterial. I suspect they were all made to feel that they no longer were who they had always thought they were.

Nobody wants to feel replaceable. Interchangeable. Everybody wants to feel unique. I bet guys like Pedro, Nomar and Manny have spent a good part of their lives feeling unique, and deservedly so, because they have been blessed with talent that millions of people would do unspeakable things for. Who they were, why they were loved, why they were the gods of Yawkey Way, was to be found in the arm, the legs, the hands, and the subtle harmonies only they could play.

Of course, superstars age, their skills wither. But to them, from their own point of view, they're still the same unique divinity they've always been, ever since that first scout raved about their tools or wheels or gun at their 13th birthday. But that age of 32 or so rolls around, and that OPS or ERA starts to regress to the mean, and suddenly, these guys are one thing they've never been. Replaceable. They can be substituted; after their prime, the front office can find someone else to put up those same numbers they will. The person goes, the numbers stay the same. Oh right. And the salary shrinks. Profits go up.

That's fine, that's business. But I don't blame the players for wanting "respect", or "mental peace", as Manny put it, which they always say they want instead of money, though of course they want the money. But they don't even need to be shrewd in their investments with the money they already have in order to stay rich for life. No, the money is a symbol. A symbol of being desired. A symbol of being that guy that everyone wants, and pays, to see. That's respect to them- respecting them as The Man they are. The money says that they're wanted, to a quantifiable degree that much more than everyone else. What they want is to still be treated like the stars they were, not thrown out and replaced for an cheaper model. Manny will have mental peace when he's desired the way Manny Ramirez should be desired. And Manny's now getting that. The Dodgers are raving about the Hall of Fame slugger they acquired. Manny can strut into Joe Torre's locker room and Be what he's always Been: Manny.

You can call it 'ego', and it probably is. But the sense of 'self' applies as much as 'conceit'. This is all they've been, this is all they know. All that lies ahead is decay and death. Yes, for all of us too, unfortunately- you heard it here first- but the rest of us still have a narrative, and not just the epilogue that a former ballplayer has. Sure, people will always want their autograph, and they'll always eat for free in the local joints, but any player will tell you, it's not the same. They're never really themselves ever again.

Do you know what the moral of Field of Dreams is? Heaven is where you get to be yourself. (spoiler alert.) Shoeless Joe gets to be a ballplayer again. Doc Graham gets his the one major league plate appearance, the one he should have had. And then, because he really was a doctor, not a ballplayer ('Son, if I'd never gotten to be a doctor, that would have been a tragedy'), he gets to be that again too. Terrence Mann, after years of public silence, gets to be a writer again- he promises to give a full account of what it's like out in the corn field. Ray Kinsella and his estranged father get to be an American Boy and his Dad, by having a game of catch.

But that's Hollywood. Ballplayers can never again be themselves. When Manny learned that he wasn't going to get the 4 year $100 million dollar contract extension that the great Manny Ramirez deserved, he shut down. Undoubtedly, Manny's response was immature and hurtful to those that knew him, and he let his teammates down, and he disappointed fans who cheered for him and paid to see him be himself.

But nonetheless, I find it hard to be mad at Manny. I love baseball, and I know The Game and The Team are bigger than Manny, and Manny didn't do right by The Game, or The Team. I don't condone his actions, but The Game and The Team are idealizations, not real people. They don't have to stare death in the face before they reach middle age. They go on. Ideals are forever, Plato taught us.

Yes, Manny needs to 'grow up.' He should learn to leave an identity behind, and learn to face one reality that he agreed to- his contract to finish out this year- and one he didn't- that who we are must change. He's blameworthy for the first, but not the second, of course. And I can't help suspect that behind the inflammatory statements and the knees and the jogging to first and the wanting his option to be picked up when the team has no reason to do so because he's a Hall of Famer worth $20 million which everyone should recognize NOW, dammit, is the idea that the only self Manny has ever known is dissolving, and that Manny won't be being Manny for very much longer.

Yankees Acquire Name and Brand of Ivan Rodriguez, for Kyle Farnssomething

The Yankees today acquired a brand name 36 year old catcher for a relief pitcher, the lowest form of baseball celebrity. Baseball's extras, really, is what they are.

This brand name catcher had an road OPS of .686 last year and .671 this year (with only 7 XB hits) away from his home park , which the Yankees, in related talks, failed to acquire.

The current replaceable Yankee catcher, a man so not famous that he's easily confused with two of his brothers, only had a .581 OPS this year, but Molina- whichever one it is that catches for the Yankees- had nabbed 47.3% of attempted base stealers this year, better than the Great Famous Original Pudge's average of around 34 % over the last 2 years.

The Yanks of course extended their largesse in return for the Famous Catcher in the form of Kyle Farnssomething, who before his most recent outing had held opponents scoreless in his 11 appearances. Farnswhatever had filled up the hole in the bullpen that had been opened by the move to the starting rotation of the Very Famous And Hyped Fat Prospect.

But as the Yankees retain the option of simply playing commercials during the 8th inning, this was deemed not to be a problem.

Reserve Psychology

The master negotiator Marvin Miller, at the age of 91, still has it.

In his on-going battle with the baseball establishment, the wily former executive director of the MLB Players Association (1966-82) has shown that he still has another card up his sleeve.

The cagey Miller's artful tactics led to the overthrow of baseball's reserve clause and allowed for the advent of free agency in the 1970's, forever changing the game. Yet he continues to be passed over for inclusion in Cooperstown, and it seems that he has finally given up hope of being enshrined among the immortals in the Hall of Fame.

And that's just what Miller wants them to think.

Miller, who according to the Boston Globe "says he will never set foot in the Hall [of Fame] again", and called the Hall "a crock," has requested that his name be kept off future Hall ballots, in perpetuity, thereby ensuring that he never be elected to baseball's hallowed hall.

What brilliance!

Miller's advanced age has clearly not diminished his negotiating skill; if anything, he's only that much more beguiling. After all these years, Miller is finally employing perhaps the most advanced negotiating tactic known to man: reverse psychology. This difficult maneuver comes with its own risks; not since Bugs Bunny outwitted Elmer Fudd has such a maneuver been used with so much at stake.

When asked for comment, Miller's arch rival, former commissioner Bowie Kuhn posthumously said "Ooh, I'll show that wascawy Miller. I'll put him in the Hall so fast it'll make his head spin." Kuhn then rolled over in his grave.

Pink Hat and Tails

Alright, fine. The pink hat thing.

This will require some credentials and caveats before I talk about it. I went to my first game in April of '86, cried when Buckner. I went to Rich Gedman All-American Baseball Camp for half a dozen summers, where I met Roger Clemens and Ellis Burks and Mike Greenwell, and even saw Bob Stanley throw a ball at Mark Fidrych's moving truck. He missed. Many years later, I attended Game 7, at Yankee Stadium, of the 2003 ALCS- That's right, The Grady Game- and lived to tell about it.

The moral of the story is I'm a suffering Sox fan (or was, now that we can play a ring toss game) as much as anybody my age, in contrast to, apparently, a 'pink-hat.'

Now, a caveat. I don't live in Boston anymore; Brooklyn, in fact, so I don't make it to Fenway all that often (also, as a philosopher, a ticket is about a year's salary), and I don't see much of the Kenmore rabble, so I haven't had the visceral experience of walking amongst, and feeling superior to or annoyed by, the pink hats. In fact, that expression, starting with the definite article (as opposed to a definite article?), is mostly foreign to me.

Another caveat. Not having NESN, I watch the games streaming from mlb.tv. So rather than the crisp, clean, shahp images of an HD broadcast, I get the wonders of a pixely Beckett and a blurry Manny, jumping discretely from stance to followthrough, leaving the swing merely implied, a subtle bit of subtext.

Basically, these third-world conditions have made me grateful, grateful I tell you, for whatever I can get.

So, that being said, I'm just not bothered by the pink hat thing.

But what's an opinion without a philosophical rationalization?

Notwithstanding the anachronism or meter, Its not 'take me out to the ballgame, take me to see how much the off-camera fielders cheat towards the opposite field when the hitters are behind in the count', its, well, 'take me out with (to?) the crowd'.

For many people, being a sports fan is about identification with others; feeling what the players feels, oohing and ahhing with the crowd, bonding over beers, chanting 'Yankees suck' (a metaphysical proposition, not a physical one, given their talent in previous years.) For Sox fans in particular, its about going through the drama, acting out that too familiar narrative of the team, living and dying with every pitch when none of them are even yours, physiologically speaking.

Religion is about collective bonding too; in fact, etymologically (yeah, i went there) 'religion' is related to 'ligament' or 'ligature', all of which means 'to tie together'; religion is about supernatural bonds. (perhaps a nickname for HGH Barry.) People who pray together stay together, I'm told, and this works for Sox fans as much as anybody. Maybe more.

Identifying with a collective, at least momentarily, involves taking on the traits of those others with whom you identify, blurring individuality, and allowing one, for example, to take pride in the accomplishments of others (as when I take pride in Kevin Youkilis, Gabe Kapler, and a Mr. Sandy Koufax.)

But what's the point of the group if you don't get to feel special? So one has to earn membership; initiation rites are as old as groups. For Sox fans, the initiation is suffering (as with fraternities and monasteries.) If not for this, and just anybody can get in, one risks taking on, through metaphysical osmosis, traits of those objectionable shouldn't-be members.

So to keep people out, groups define themselves in opposition to an Other which doesn't share their values or stories.

In the past, the suffering and oppressed Sox were contrasted with the tyrannical Yankees. Now that they actually suck, and we've whooped 'em good, Sox fans, as the article puts it, are having an identity crisis. Not willing to give up their identity as sufferers, they seek a new Other to define themselves in contrast to, now that vis-a-vis the Yankees, we are, at least temporarily, the ass whoopers, not the ass whoopees. (My old school Sox pessimism dies hard.)

So the pink hats are taken symbolically (whether any particular person who owns a pink hat is a 'real fan' or not is ignored- this is symbolism we're talking about), as playing the role of the Other, the fairweather fan who doesn't suffer through the storms and freezes and the being left out in the woods for a week to have a vision quest so that the 'real' Sox fans, who aren't yet comfortable in their new role as ass kickers (something with which I'm quite comfortable, I should point out. Also, I'm real- and as a philosopher, I'm an expert in existence), can maintain their traditional sense of collective self which is built around suffering. Cultures are intrinsically conservative and reactionary, Red Sox nation is no exception.

But its not an entirely symbolic attack; it's fair weather fans, presumably, that give that extra revenue bump that leads to big market victories, and so, to the extent that the Sox wins are a function of the market, the diehards can actually cite such fairweathers as a partial causes of their identity loss.

But what's with the massochism? (Bad pun intended.) The suffering is supposed to be redeemed through winning. And I like winning. I do, I admit it. I don't need another Grady Game. So the more fans, the better. They make it possible for Theo to give Julio friggin Lugo a 4 year contract and not have it sink the ship.

Also, I'm just not all that into the collective identity stuff. I'm more of a hermit monk type than a church picnic type of guy, so to speak. I watched the Sox win the Series in '04 with just one other friend. I typically watch games by myself. I enjoy a close, personal relationship with my Sox, (have you heard the good news?), unencumbered by sociality. I try to avoid thinking too much about those superfluous aspects- whether the players are really good people deep down inside or whether Wild Thing Vaughn slept with Dorn's wife last night. These get in the way of my spiritual whatever.

Look. People stink. Forget about them. I had standing room monster seats (an oxymoron) for Game 2 of the '04 World Series- Schilling pitched a gem, I recall. And who was sitting rows in front of me (in a seat, no less, the show-off) but Tom Hanks. People kept looking at him, not the game. Its the F'ing world series, I'd yell. Just watch the game. Jimmy Dugan would have told you the same thing.

Aramark it Zero

From the Archive: June 12, 2008

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack... because they're made off the premises and stored in sealed containers...

I love the new camera angle!

From the Archive: May 2 2008

To: sports@nesn.com

I just want to say that I love the new straightaway center field camera angle! I've been hoping for years that NESN would adopt this.

If you would indulge me, I'd like to briefly explain why I think its so much better:

On the 2 dimensional TV screen, from the shortstop/ left center default camera angle that is the industry standard, the pitcher stands to the left of the hitter. So on the screen, the pitch appears to move from left to right as it approaches the hitter- no matter what kind of pitch it is. But in reality, of course, the pitcher is straight ahead of the hitter, not to the left, and moreover, in reality, any and all breaking balls, including cut fastballs, thrown by a righthanded pitcher move to the left, and not to the right; in reality, the ball moves in the opposite direction as seen on TV!! The shortstop/left center cam isn't just inaccurate, it’s actually completely deceptive.

I hope NESN continues with this straightaway center camera angle, and perhaps helps people who are uncomfortable with the change to adjust to the transition by way of a helpful explanation.

Thanks so much, and keep up the good work.

Cont'd: Free trade: money and competition

From the Archive: 10/27/07
[continuation of http://soxlosophy.blogspot.com/2008/06/free-trade-money-and-competition.html]

I don't think anyone is going to dispute that few other teams could have made Theo’s mistakes, or that payroll can be statistically correlated (though causation is a whole other issue) with regular season victories. Unfortunately, this is all irrelevant.

The relevant issue is whether the causes of this scenario- payroll discrepancies- are such that they render the scenario unethical. That is to say, the issue is whether this situation has come about in such a manner that we should, in good conscience, not follow/patronize/enjoy the game; the issue is not that there are payroll discrepancies, but who bears responsibility for the payroll discrepancies.

I deny that the only object of blame is 'the system'. My basic point in the last email was that the individual franchises are to an important degree responsible because they are in fact rich, and by 'rich' I mean 'able to spend lots and lots of money on things.'

One might be inclined to make the following claims: a) that payroll is a function of a team's revenue stream, b) there are 'small market' teams that have less revenue, and so can't afford the same payroll, and c) that a team doesn't bear any responsibility for that revenue stream (and by extension, doesn't bear responsibility for its payroll, because of a)- that payroll is a function of revenue.)

But a), b), and c) are false.

Firstly, teams make a profit. That means they have more money then they're spending. Therefore, they could choose to spend more. Secondly, all teams are owned by companies or people with stakes in other companies, and so have revenue streams outside of their baseball franchises. A megacorporation like Coors, which owns the Rockies, could choose to use profits from any of its subsidiaries to invest in players if it wanted to. But it doesn't. So a) is false. That’s not my fault, nor The System's, nor Bud Selig's, that's theirs.

Is it bad business to do this? Maybe. But the point of the examples of Toronto and Cleveland is that fans everywhere, no matter the market, will pay to see winning baseball- there's no such thing as a small market when the team is winning. If a team puts a World Series caliber team on the field, guess what: the revenue will increase. If a team chooses to invest in its team, and it wins, it'll make money. A team can also choose to spend less money, and thereby make less money. In other words, a team does bear some responsibility for its revenue stream- c) is false.

But spending money isn't a sure thing- (the statistical correlation of payroll with wins is not causation; payroll does not determine with physical necessity the outcome of games.) the point about the Rockies in particular is they tried this strategy with Hampton and Neagle and it failed. They spent the money, it didn't work, and so they decided to not spend money anymore and be satisfied with a team with a lower payroll. (Granted, it was a different ownership group, so 'they' is a bit vague.) But Colorado had the money, just like Baltimore, or Toronto, or whomever, regardless of whether they are in a 'small market,' have money, and choose not to spend it. So b) is false.

Again, and generally speaking, if the team invested money in a winning team, they'd get more fans, more national attention, more advertising, etc.- they'd make more money, and then they could have a higher payroll. The System does not stop anyone or everyone from doing this, they way the system in the real world does require unemployment and low wages and such. All teams are rich enough to do this if they chose to take the risk. But some teams are run poorly, or cheaply. They either don't invest, or they invest poorly. Why do you assume its fault of the system that the pirates and royals don’t' succeed? What evidence do you have for this? They fail every year because they are poorly managed. The A's are well managed, and compete every year despite a comparability low payroll. Every year some or a few small market teams make the playoffs. The reason Pittsburgh and KC aren't on this list is because they suck and spend money on Gil Meche.

Look, the overall issue here is one of culpability. Teams bear some amount of responsibility for their payroll, their revenue, their choices in free agents or draft picks, in which case one need not boycott the whole thing. The system is not necessarily unjust. It can be lopsided at times, and yes, there do exist inequities. And by all means, as I’ve said before, I am in favor of various balancing measures. But just like the players on the field are responsible for their performances, so are the suits. But I don't pay to see the suits play, and when they choose poorly, I’m not going to not watch my boys on the field play well.

And Josh Fogg still sucks.

Free trade?: Money and competition

From the Archive: 10/25/07

[a friend wrote:]
Shame on all of you. Look at payroll discrepancy! Where would the Indians be if they had made the same trades Theo did over the last 3 years??

[my response]

If you're waiting for socialism before you let yourself have a good time, well, I’m not quite sure what to say to that.

I’m all in favor of luxury taxes and income re-distribution in the name of competitive balance. However, current inequities do not diminish my interest in nor my enjoyment of the game.

And I don't think they should.

I don't think they should for one simple reason. Baseball teams are not like poor people. The main reason for this is that poor people are poor, whereas baseball teams are rich. (They are also not people; of course. this is especially true of the Yankees.)

The idea that there are 'haves' and 'have nots' in baseball is simply not apt. Everyone who owns a baseball team is rich beyond our wildest dreams. The Rockies are owned by Coors. They don't have money? They couldn't choose to spend more on payroll if they wanted to?

There’s a manipulative capitalism way of saying people are free to choose, and a real way. Its wrong to say that people who are slowly starving to death 'choose' to work for 2 cents an hour because the alternative they're not 'choosing' is quickly starving to death at 0 cents an hour. This isn't a real choice, and it isn't right. But baseball teams are rich rich rich. And they really do choose not to spend on payroll.

Boston and Denver, and New England and the rocky mountain region, have comparable populations. If the Red Sox are a 'bigger market' team than the Rockies, and so have more money, then that's because people in new England care more about baseball than their rocky mountain counterparts. Good for us! And if people care more, and are willing to pay more, then they are more deserving of a better team. Why should the sox be penalized for having passionate fans?

This is not analogous to saying 'why should tycoons be penalized for their initiative and entrepreneurial spirit by paying taxes or a fair wage?' Tycoons have more power than their workers, and so workers can't negotiate fairly, and so need institutionalized assistance (like labor laws and unions). And corporations use and depend on government infrastructure and human resources and public education for future employees, for which they owe money. The Red Sox do not have more power than the Rockies- the Red Sox can't fire the Rockies or ship them off to China. And the Red Sox do in fact pay a heavy luxury tax, which is distributed among the other teams. They incur this penalty as a result of choosing to pay a lot of money for their team on the field. Good for them. That’s their choice.

If the Rockies spent more money, more fans would care and show up. Toronto sold out Skydome every day when they were great in the early 90's. Cleveland sold out every day when they were great in the mid and late 90's. These are 'small market' teams. Fans everywhere care, and show up and pay money, when their teams win. And when teams win, they make lots of money. And if teams bothered to spend that money on players, then they'd win more, and they'd get a return on their investment. But Pete Coors and the Coors brewing company would rather pocket the money, instead of reinvesting it and giving the fans a better team. or, when they tried that, they wasted it on mike Hampton and Denny Neagle, and decided it was safer to pocket the money than risk it on free agents.

I don't see why the jerks who run teams should be rewarded for being stingy.

So sure, luxury tax and such. But life is short, and in the meantime, I am going to enjoy a perfect game, played somewhat imperfectly, and in an imperfect world.

My Herman T. Zweibel Is a Little Rusty- Perhaps Some Smeckler's Powder?

From the Archive: March 21, 2005

A friend of mine who works for the Sox and responds to emails written to Redsox dot com, likes to share his befuddlement caused by certain crazy letters, to which I suggested a reply.

so the friend wrote to me...

“is this fucking guy for real?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: xxx
Posted At: Mon 3/21/2005 5:00 PM
To: fanfeedback@redsox.mlb.com
Posted To: Fan Feedback
Subject: bos - Other - None - Mo Vaughn

E-mail From: xxx

I was looking through the Red Sox roster and the name Mo Vaughn did not appear. Did I overlook it or is it true that Mo Vaughn is no longer a part of the Boston Red Sox. If so where did he go?
Thanks,
xxx
"

And so i wrote to my friend:

“perhaps you should respond thusly:

xxx-
Unfortunately, a base-ball "roster," which is a list of those eligible to play on the team, can include no more than 25 "base-ball men", or "players." Because there are many "positions" to fill, such rosters can include only so many players at each position. The Boston Americans, colloquially known as the "Pilgrims", the "Somersets", and just recently as the "Red Sox," already have two "first base-men" within their employ, which is typically the maximum number of "first base-men" carried by a ball club to meet the requirements of efficiency. You may be familiar with the concept of efficiency, as it has been popularized in recent demonstrations of that newly invented marvel, the steam engine. Mr. Vaughn, of whom you speak, exclusively mans the first base position, and so was deemed expendable by the club, who feel that the conjoined efforts of Abner Doubleday and Charlemagne is sufficient to satisfy the competitive needs of the ball-club on the field-of-play, and who also prove more "cost-effective" for the owners' coin-purses.

So in response to your second and conditional query, Mr. Vaughn is currently seeking work as a smithy in a gold-rush town on the oregon trail.

Thank you for your telegram, and we hope to see your horse and buggy hitched outside the ball-park sometime during the summer season.

Verily yours,

Ye Olde Towne Teame

Spiderbase, Spiderbase

From the Archive:

May 2004

Major League Baseball has announced that it will have “Spider Man 2” logos ON the bases during some games in June. Of course, this is beyond disgusting. But am I surprised? Of course not. Is this any different than anything else in this country, soon to be called Pepsi Presents The United Airlines United State Street Bank States of Comerica American Airlines America? MLB already resembles the first 15 pages of any major magazine.

I’m sure you’re all expecting from me some harangue or diatribe on the purity of baseball, on why this outrage is particularly nauseating, given what baseball is, and that I’ll just blame the money hungry fat-cat owners who don’t care about why people are fans and for exploiting their need and love for sports. Well, you’re wrong. You know who I blame? You- (well, not you, my well regarded friendsters)- the stupid American consumer. Not because of the environment, or exploited overseas labor, or fat kids eating fat chips in their fat schools, or any of that stuff. Simply because people are idiots, and they don’t care about quality.
It’s your fault that advertising works at all. Why do we need campaign finance reform? I’ll tell you why. Because those stupid fucking ads approved of by George Bush’s pet monkey Bubbles actually work. If people weren’t swayed by those ads, it wouldn’t fucking matter who had the most money to spend on them. If people made their choices about who is going to rule the world based on some semblance of rational criteria, commercials and staying on message and kissing crack babies would be moot. They actually had to stop playing all Schwarzenneger movies during the campaign, because he was getting too much, and therefore unfair, publicity. Stupid fucking people would actually watch Jingle all the Way or Twins and say, gee, that guy sure should decide whether resident aliens should receive welfare, or what to do with a sagging trillion dollar economy, or whatnot.

But that is not just a brief aside. All of it is your fault, for being so damn stupid. I don’t blame basball, or Arnie. Its not their fault that advertising works. It’s yours. Now, I’m no anti-capitalist. I like I-Pods, taco bell, and medicine as much as anyone. But you don’t need to give that up, for there is a simple way to defeat just the evil part of the machine. Wanna know how? Buy CVS brand shampoo and conditioner instead of Pert. Ever read the label? It has the same fucking chemicals. Not doing so is indicative of how superficial and label and status oriented all the stupid fuckers are. And then you can also have full, lustrous hair just like mine, enriched with pro-vitamins or lithium serum or whatever the fuck they put in there to make your hair addicted to it so you have to shampoo all the time.

So it’s not insulting to the game to have Spiderman on the bases. It’s insulting to you. Because they will spend billions of dollars just to have their stupid logo for their stupid movie on a base, because they know it’ll make you want to watch the movie, because they know you’re an idiot, and then Tobey Macguire can have his secret homosexual affair in a further away more guarded clandestine setting instead of my truly enjoying the one thing that I cherish above all else on this stupid planet. And it’s not Pedro’s fault, its not Bud Selig’s or Scott Boras’ fault. Its not even George Bush’s fault, or Andrew Carnegie’s, or Adam Smith’s, or Bill Gates’, or Condaleeza Rice’s, or Howard Stern’s, or Jerry Falwell’s, or Marilyn Manson’s, or South Park’s, or Michael Moore’s, or the NRA’s, FCC’s, CIA’s, OPEC’s, NATO’s or Bin Laden’s, or George Steinbrenner’s or Janet Jackson’s boobie’s. It’s yours, you stupid lazy shitheaded American consumers. Fuck you for ruining my game. Seriously, fuck you.