An ending to a personal season

The 2012-2013 College Basketball season has been over for a month or so now. It was the most active season I have had as a fan, and I wanted to capture my feelings. Much as teams have been known to run out of gas in March or otherwise see their season end too soon, I as a #TMM9 member of @hoppingcats ran out of gas in March as well. Life intruded, I didn't manage my vacation bank very well, and I couldn't dig down deep at crunch time. Since the writing competition ended shortly after the Final Four, I write this ending on my own blog for no points whatsoever, but just to reflect on my season of traveling and writing about mid-major basketball, such as it was. I can't begin to touch this guy (who I ran into a handful of times this year, with the dawning realization that my team would gain no points on his from the game I was attending), but I had fun all the same.

I didn't have the wherewithal to go to that many games, mostly because of my full-time job. As much as I envy the life of Kyle (and marvel at the guy I mentioned above), I'm not ready to retire just yet. My participation was as limited as my free time was (flying was an alternative that I didn't fully explore because I felt it would be too expensive).

Commitment, not to mention zeal that borders on obsession, tends to bring pain and makes one vulnerable to the harshness of the real world. Like an athlete who is smooth as silk one game and writhing in agony the next, cruel chaos has been known to intrude, and then whatever weaknesses we have are exploited. Try as they might, my Valpo Crusaders could not grow extra bulk and inches in the span of a few days in order to match up with the Mighty Spartans of Michigan State. So they had to adapt, and for whatever reason they couldn't. Had they found a way, I would have been there on Saturday to not only write about Valpo-Memphis but also VCU-Michigan, and then who knows, maybe Valpo-Duke in Indianapolis? That's the kind of dreaming that I imagine Will Bogan, Ryan Broekhoff, Erik Buggs, and company allowed themselves to engage in.

Likewise, because I could not magically enlarge my vacation bank at The Boeing Company from 2 hours to 16, much less work 12 hour days around outside commitments, nor will my almost-55-year-old body to withstand even more stress and sleep deprivation, I had to wimp out on my plans to see my team Dance and write for my other team.

So, my 2013 season ended too soon. I couldn’t even make it across Missouri to Kansas City to attend that collection of 6 games. My season consists of 21 recaps and one challenge assignment. It seemed like more than that, but the website doesn't lie. Almost, but not quite the size of a Division I College Basketball regular season.

I divided my season between Valpo games and St. Louis games, the former because of personal allegiance (which was tested a couple of times), the latter because of proximity. Oh, there was that one trip where I stopped off at Hinkle to see the Billikens take on the Bulldogs again, then headed up to Valpo for the bracketbuster, then zagged over to Macomb to see Cleveland State take on Western Illinois. What mostly dominated my travels this year was nostalgia for a conference Valpo used to play in, personal investment in the conference they play in now, and the excitement of teams visiting St. Louis who had captured my imagination in recent years.

As I look back on it, there wasn't a lot of new exploration. I didn't venture into unknown territory. The only time I visited new venues was when Valpo was playing there. I always had to have a prior connection - an excuse to go to the game. The one time I was ready and willing to answer the call, I was unable to. Since warp drive has not yet been invented, I could not attend the Valpo bracketbuster game and avail myself of my last opportunity to see Nate Wolters in person (going up against Isaiah Canaan no less) because 5 hours is nowhere near enough time to go from Valparaiso, Indiana to Murray, Kentucky. It just wasn’t meant to be, and though I did get to see Canaan play, I will regret never finding a way to go see Wolters.

Wichita State lost in excruciating fashion, as it always seems to be predestined for mid-majors (not named Butler) to lose. Baseball season had already begun, but as I tweeted that Saturday night, "Sorry, baseball, you can take a hike for tonight. GO SHOCKERS!" Alas, they faltered and fell short, thus reaching the point every year where I dismiss basketball until November. I don't really do any sport year round. My calendar is neatly split into two halves. It is baseball season now.

Then again, conference realignment encroaches ever closer to the Horizon League. Furthermore, as I finish this off, Oakland has officially joined the Horizon League, my White Sox are miserable so far, and I can’t help looking forward to the renewal of an old conference rivalry that I thoroughly enjoyed. For the first time in several years, I’m more excited in May about College Basketball than I am about Major League Baseball.

Bringing Back Professional Broadcasting: A Modest Proposal

ESPN College Basketball play-by-play teams are not doing their jobs professionally, no matter who is filling those roles on any given gameday. I've noticed this for 2 or 3 years now. My intuition tells me it's not the fault of the actual announcers; it's the fault of the 4-letter network who seems to find our mid-major games kind of on the boring side, just on principle alone. Thus they feel the need to spice it up with extra-curricular stories that have nothing to do with the game at hand -- EVEN DURING LIVE BALL ACTION.

It's the height of condescension. It also suggests that they feel the majority of their viewing audience is only marginally interested in the two teams playing. I have little trouble believing that is true.

I have a modest proposal to satisfy both concerns.

A new channel: Maybe call it ESPN 4. A live TV talk show up in the nosebleed section, where 2 talking heads can discuss topics mildly tangential to the game at hand, maybe take calls, and discuss such topics as I heard yesterday during the Valpo-Green Bay game:

1. The idiocy of freaking out over road losses, with examples from the Miami Heat to the Louisville Cardinals.
2. Anticipation of the upcoming Duke-Maryland rematch (Duke's going to be angry, dontcha know).
3. Various other high major battles (which as we all know are the only games most basketball junkies really care about).
4. Bobby V's top 5 bracketbusters this year (none of which were mid-majors, funnily enough -- I thought bracketbusters was a mid-major thing)

Over the past 3 years, I've watched non-stop mid-major action paired with play-by-play commentary that sounded suspiciously like predictions of which conference is going to win this year's ACC-Big Ten Challenge, who are the top 5 point guards in the nation, who are going to be the 1 seeds in the NCAA tournament (the last mid-major to be a #1 seed was, I believe, St. Joseph, and we all remember what a scandal that was, Billy Packer), and a whole host of other things.

Since this is what the viewing public really wants (right?), let's have a separate channel for this. If something truly compelling does happen to take place on the mid-major court, the guys can take time out to highlight it and talk about it, if they want to. Otherwise, they can mind their own business and cater to their overwhelming throng of high-major basketball junkies.

Meanwhile, on ESPN3 or ESPNU or ESPN2 or ESPN, actually play-by-play guys can, ya know, concentrate on actually calling the game they were sent there to call. When the ball is live, they can be free to concentrate on describing the action. I realize it's not radio and a picture is worth a thousand words, but there are many situations where talk is still needed. For example, a whistle just blew. Not being a referee aficionado, I can't always decipher the hand motion. I can tell that the ball changed hands, but I can't tell if it was a foul, 3-seconds, traveling (especially if the camera is not focused on the official making the call), or a myriad of other things. Let's just say the play was obscure enough that I'm left hanging in limbo totally clueless as to what was just called. In moments like that, I couldn't care less about the Duke-Maryland rematch, I want to know what just happened. Or let's say one team just executed a masterful offensive set that freed up a shooter under the basket. Yes, I saw it with my own eyes, but the play was such a thrilling one it begs for some commentary, maybe some telestration showing me why the play I just saw worked so well. Again, this is no time to be predicting who is going to win the ACC-Big Ten Challenge or who you think is going to make the Final Four. I honestly don't give a crap about that. I want some expert commentary on the exciting play I just saw. I'm not an expert on basketball strategy, but I know enough to know that I just saw an outstanding play and I'm curious what made it so outstanding (or perhaps it wasn't quite as outstanding as it appeared to be, and I need to be educated on how the defense screwed up).

If you are a play-by-play or color commentator assigned to this game, it means your #1 job is to call and comment on this game, and EVERYTHING else should take a back seat. Since that doesn't serve ESPN's needs, how about giving us 2 broadcasts, 1 for those of us who watch a game in order to, ya know, watch the game, and 1 for those of us who are only mildly amused by these two largely irrelevant schools but really want to hear about the popular topics of the day.

Think about it, ESPN. It's the professional thing to do.

Go Twinkies!!!

Yes, I am still a White Sox fan first and Cardinal fan second, and the Sox are behind the Twins while the Cards are ahead of the Cubs, but: (a) I *never* root for the Cubs, (b) it's *only* June, and (c) did I mention I *never* root for the Cubs?

If the Sox can't finish ahead of the Twins without help from the Cubs, then they don't deserve it. Besides, the Cubs have shown themselves historically incapable of winning such games anyway.

GO TWINKIES!

"There is no other name"

Two days from now, many folks will hear the following read by lectors from Acts 4:5-12: "There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."

"No other name" is what usually gets all the attention, for its exclusionary language. Very little attention is paid to the word "must", which is a curious word. It seems to me if "No other name" is meant to be our main focus, the more natural word for "must" would be "can". Of course, I'm no greek linguist so I'm going out on a limb and assuming that "must" is the appropriate translation.

If it is, it's a word that sticks out and seems ripe for much more attention than we've given it in the past.

The question that's usually put "before the house" focuses on "no other name". Whole books have been written wrestling with this exclusionary claim made by Peter. It seems to some that this excludes too many people from salvation. Then again, Peter and his colleagues were faced with a situation where they were being forced to choose what salvation they would claim, the Emperor, Moses, or Christ, so they were not the ones doing the excluding.

But so much attention has been focused on making everyone choose Jesus over every other messiah, that no one seems to notice that Peter is really claiming that Jesus must save us. We are given this name to invoke in our hearts, and when we do, our salvation is guaranteed. Peter has the audacity to assert that the Almighty creator God is bound by the promise inherent in Jesus' name -- the promise of salvation via the forgiveness of sins, and that brings Life with a capital L. Against this astounding promise, Caesar, Herod, and Moses don't stand a chance. The reason why Peter claims Jesus is the only way to salvation and the reason Jesus himself makes that claim is not arbitrary or imperialistic. Don't picture Jesus wielding a sword, saying, "if you don't believe in me, I'll smite you with my death ray." Don't picture God flashing lightning bolts from heaven and a thundering voice saying, "Believe in him or else!" Don't picture Peter strutting down the street or pounding on a bully pulpit, threatening Sodom and Gomorrah style reprisals to anyone who doesn't worship Jesus. Don't picture Luke as the head of the Moral Majority inflaming the divide between believers and unbelievers.

Instead, picture all of them saying, "Here's my candidate for ultimate salvation: Jesus. You think you got a better candidate? By all means, trot them out here and show me!" It's not an imperialistic power play against unbelievers; it's a hard-core challenge against other messiahs. Don't think "A Handmaid's Tale". Think "Welcome to Thunderdome". This is not Christians against pagans (or unbelievers or whatever you prefer). This is Jesus against Mohammed, Buddha, L. Ron Hubbard, Ayn Rand, the Dali Lama, and whoever else is vying for the title in our hearts and minds these days. And this is not a popularity contest, nor is it a political battle filled with hype and propaganda. This is a pure contest of skill. The winner is the one who takes us all to the ultimate Promised Land. In a way, the winner has yet to be revealed, the final judgment yet to be made. The final judgment is not just on us, it is on Jesus as well. Christians aren't qualified to do anything more than to place our boldness along side that of Peter and Luke, and hang all our integrity and reputation on a promise by Jesus that has yet to be fulfilled definitively. We can declare the positive impact that Christ's crucifixion and resurrection has on our lives here and now, but all of that could still turn out to be transitory if we are wrong when the moment of truth comes. And we won't be able to blame ourselves -- for all the good that would do anyway -- since we've pinned it all on Jesus, our choice for champion.

2 out of 3 ain't bad...

But it ain't good either. Losing any game to the Cubs is bad. But that's just me...

2 out of 3 is pretty good to Tony LaRussa, I'm sure. I can't help remembering that the first series at Busch stadium last year also had the Cardinals winning 2 of 3, and the season series went down hill from there. It's hard to feel comfortable yet, but then it's always hard to feel comfortable in April anyway. The Cardinals still have the best record in the NL (tied with the Dodgers), and that's different from last year, that's for sure.

So, even without the sweep, I have one question for Cub fans:
You can wish that Derrek Lee was half the ballplayer Albert is. Two plays this weekend typified what I'm saying: (1) Bottom of the 8th Friday night: Albert gets on with a hit, then steals Marmol blind to put himself into scoring position, then scores from second on Ludwick's single. Albert is no speed demon, but he's been making plays like that for the Cardinals for some time now. Can you honestly say Derrek Lee has ever manufactured a run like that? I don't think so, and (2) Bottom of the 3rd Saturday. Barden singles, Boggs bunts him to second, Brendan Ryan strikes out, and Rasmus lines a single to Fukodome in RF. Oquendo stops Barden at 3rd, and Rasmus rounds first base way too aggressively. In fact he slips when he jams on the breaks. Geovany Soto has the ball in his glove, but guess what? No Cub player is within the area code of first base, so Rasmus can crawl back safely to first if he wants to. As it happens, Pujols made the 3rd out, stranding both runners, but the fact remains that if this were a Cub rally brewing and young Hoffpaur was a 3rd of the way to 2nd when Molina received the throw from Ludwick, you better believe Albert would be standing on first, and Micah would be a dead duck for the 3rd out.

Albert is one of a kind. I say the MVP award is his to lose, and so far he is showing no signs of doing any such thing.

I rediscovered an old parking option that a buddy and I used to use in the 80's: St. Louis Centre. We used to get off I-70 at Broadway or perhaps one exit sooner, drive a few blocks, park in the parking garage, go to the food court for dinner, have them validate our parking ticket, then walk to the game. Very economical. Today, the mall is empty, but the parking garage is still there, and it's only 5 bucks. I rediscovered it on Saturday. Friday, I went back to the Kiel parking garage where I'd paid 5 bucks on Opening Day, and found that it was 15 bucks now. Apparently Opening Day was special. Maybe it was because Opening Day was a day game. Nevertheless, I parked there, rather than look elsewhere. On Saturday I made up my mind to try for the outdoor parking lot one block closer than ScotTrade Center, but I was still familiar only with going I-70 to downtown. I got on the express lanes, and then I thought I would try to get off sooner and maybe avoid some of the delays around the Memorial Drive exit, so I got off at Broadway. Of course, there were huge delays there too. As I headed toward Market Street, there it was on the right.

At this point, I should say that I'm always on the lookout for opportunities to get extra exercise, so the fact that this was even further away from Busch Stadium than the Kiel garage was actually a plus.

I used to want to sit at field level to be close to the action, but I've gotten over that need lately. For this series my seat on Friday was in the highest row of the highest level, right behind first base. It was a veritable wind tunnel up there that night. I also could not hear "God Bless America" because of the swirling wind and the sirens going off just south of the stadium. The Cubs were still taking batting practice when I got there. They looked like ants down there. On Saturday, I was on the 3rd base side, which only goes up to the 300 level. In fact, I had my own little 3 seat section, half way between 3rd base and lf foul pole. An entrance was beneath me, and a walkway immediately behind me. I did not have to move for anybody the entire game. Today, I was back on the first base side, 400 level, maybe a few rows down from the top.

So many Cub fan/Card fan couples. I bet there isn't a single Red Sox fan/Yankee fan couple in existence. I prefer to think that makes the Cardinals-Cubs rivalry better, not worse. But that's just me. I did see one sight that made me want to puke, though. I tried to get a picture of it, but it wasn't good enough to show so I deleted it. A guy with a Mark Buehrle jersey had his arm around a gal wearing a Zambrano jersey. That's just plain wrong.

On Friday, at first I felt all alone. The top row did not really start filling up until about the 5th inning. I also felt alone because the row in front of me was thick with Cub fans. Then the "the only thing I hate more the cubbies are those cryin' cubbie fans" team took their seats in the row in front of me and I didn't feel quite so alone anymore.

Things I hate at the ballpark: walking from one end of a row to the other without sitting down anywhere in that row. Actually, that's the extreme case that happened Friday night when about four morons, seeing I was the only one sitting in the row, decided they'd interrupt my dinner instead of going back down the stairs and coming up on the other side of the section like polite people do. Their seats were 4 rows down or so, but they couldn't be bothered to correct their mistake without annoying me. What I normally see is some guy sitting in seat 4 deciding he needs to head down the row toward seat 24 to get to the opposite aisle. Why inconvenience only 3 people when you can annoy the crap out of 20?

Things I really hate: people returning to their seats during an at-bat.

Things that just look silly: people standing up in their seats talking on their cell phone waving at someone in another section. Dude, give it up. They can't see you. If you're in my line of sight and someone is in the batter's box, see "Things I really hate" as well.

One thing about Cub fans at Busch stadium -- Since the new ballpark opened up, the ones I have encountered have mostly been more mature than the Cardinal fans I've noticed at Cub-Cardinal games. You read that right, I said "more". I realize that Cardinal fans have many valid reasons to gloat (10 World Series titles to 2 is a great beginning), but there is an art to "taunting" that Cub fans visiting St. Louis seem to be better steeped in than Cardinal fans. It's one thing to wear a "Got rings?" T-shirt or "Completely Useless By September". It's another thing to go out of your way to make an absolute ass of yourself just to demean a Cub fan. In the past 3 years (mostly in 2006, really) I have seen Cardinal fans crossing that line too many times, while Cub fans have mostly laughed along with their counterparts. When riding the Metro-Link after the game in which the Cubs had won that series 2 games to 1, we'd tell Cub fans in our car, "Hope you enjoyed your World Series!" and they'd laugh knowingly. Meanwhile, I wore my Cubs "Cry" T-shirt to one game in 2006 and 3 Cardinal fans mistook me for a Cub fan because they were too stupid to read the T-shirt carefully.

Friday night, the Cub fan right in front of me was wearing Samardzija jersey. I told him I graduated from the same high school as Jeff. He immediately identified my home town and told me that at Wrigley, fans were generally clueless that he was called up the other day. From that remark I discern that my feelings would be opposite if I mostly experienced this rivalry in Chicago rather than in St. Louis. I'll tell you one thing: I'll NEVER sit in the outfield bleachers at Wrigley. Never. When I sit in the outfield bleachers at Busch and the visiting team hits a HR near my section, invariably I am embarrassed to hear idiot Cardinal fans imploring the person who caught the ball to "Throw it back!" I yell at the top of my lungs, "Do NOT THROW IT BACK!" Unbelievable, that this pitiful Wrigley custom should ever be emulated at other ballparks. It is, in fact, against ballpark rules everywhere to throw anything onto the field of play. It is also a crime to throw it away when you could hand it to a kid if you don't want it. It's incredibly juvenile and it should be beneath Cardinal fans. Fortunately, the denizens of the Left Field bleachers at Busch have a rule (they even sell T-shirts with all their rules printed on the back) that says, "If you get a ball, keep it or GIVE IT TO A KID. This is not Wrigley Field!!!" Amen, brother.

Back to that Cub fan Friday night: After Schumaker made that outstanding catch near the right field foul line, he reached back and gave me a high five. In the 5th inning, an outstanding play by Albert with runners at second and third, and my new Cub fan friend is now hanging out a few rows lower and high fiving Cardinal fans. See what I mean?

Funniest moment: Friday night, Dempster bunted a ball about 5 feet. Yadi obviously tagged him out, but he still ran to first base and then acted like he should have been safe.

A new feature at Busch stadium this year: According to fans at Busch stadium, the most popular celebrity in Chicago is Michael Jordan, not Oprah Winfrey, the best former Cub/former Cardinal closer is Bruce Sutter, not Lee Smith, and the exact distance between Wrigley Field and Busch Stadium is 302 miles.

That "1" guy who does between inning entertainment made a bet with his cub fan friend. The one whose team is lower in the standings has to get his head shaved -- by Fredbird.

Gone, so far anyway, is the custom of playing that video of Jack Buck singing Take Me Out To The Ballgame at Wrigley during the 7th inning stretch. I'm guessing they felt it was time to retire it rather than over do it.

Leaving Friday night, I saw a Cub fan wearing a tshirt that says "Another 08". An interesting shirt. Certainly a laudable wish: to repeat as Central Division champs (in fact to make it a 3-peat). And yet, I could not help thinking, "Another 08" - you mean another LDS division sweep. Frankly, I'm already tired of the Cubs winning the division and then getting swept out of the postseason in 3 straight games. Way to represent, Cubbies. If you're just going to choke in October, could you do us a favor and leave the division title to someone else?

On Saturday, a little boy in a Cubs uniform threw out the first pitch to honor autism day, and for a little guy it was an outstanding pitch. Joe Thurston didn't have to budge from his crouch to catch it.

Yadi got his gold glove on Saturday. That thing looked awesome on the video screen.

Clarkson EyeCare clues on Sunday: TV & radio invented, Haley's comet -- twice, and 5 states added to U.S. Answer? Things that happened in the last 100 years.

A separate entry will discuss a certain bit of controversy that happened on Sunday.

All in all, a successful series. The Cardinals are still in first place and lead the Cubs by 3 games. They gained a game on them this weekend, and they're still doing a lot better than I thought they would.

Making a liar out of Jesus?

As it says in my profile, I dabble in supply preaching and one of my interests is theology (with a bias toward Christian theology). Next Sunday is the First Sunday after Easter or the Second Sunday of Easter, whichever you prefer, and in my neck of the woods (woods = Christianity, neck = ELCA), there's a passage from the New Testament reading for that Sunday (1 John 1:1 - 2:2) that we often recite on Sunday mornings as part of the Corporate Confession and Forgiveness that is part of the Service of Holy Communion: 1 John 1:8-9 (NRSV) - "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." I had to look it up to get the quote exactly right, but mostly I typed it from memory as I suspect most my fellow ELCA Lutherans could do as well.

Sometimes it's the next verse that really catches your eye -- you know, the one that doesn't get recited in church on Sunday.

(The "Read more" feature doesn't seem to work for this post, so click here to read the rest of this post.)

The next verse is 1 John 1:10 (NRSV) - "If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us."

Maybe verse 10 is viewed as a repeat of verse 8, I don't know. Upon closer examination, I think verse 10 is actually saying something different than verse 8: in verse 8, "we" make a liar out of ourselves, while in verse 10, "we" make a liar out of "him".

The other difference is the content of the lie itself: in verse 8, "we" lie to ourselves that we have no sin when we really do. But in verse 10, somehow if we "say that we have not sinned" (which sounds the same as "say that we have no sin"), "he" (Jesus) lies about something, and how can that be possible?

First of all, what's the lie he supposedly tells -- if we say we have not sinned? That's screwed up right there, isn't it? We say we have not sinned (and by verse 8, the writer seems to be saying we're lying), and that makes a liar out of Jesus??

This is strange, wonderful, mysterious, irrational world of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In chapter 2, the writer casts Jesus as an "advocate" and as the "atoning sacrifice for our sins". A substitution is being proposed here. We sin, and Jesus atones for it. Do NOT feel self-conscious in the least if you find this transaction illegal/impossible/whatever. It is perhaps the most irrational, objectionable salvation proposal I've ever heard of.

On the other hand, don't be fooled into thinking I don't buy into this proposal. I very much do: (1) I truly believe that the human condition with respect to sin is so dire that such a desperate and seemingly unfair measure is the only way to truly rescue us from the wrath of our creator, (2) since God himself is the only one this transaction is unfair to and he is the one who is instigating this transaction, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

And therein lies the lie: Jesus has said, "I take your sin, make it my own, and put it to death on the cross." "If we say we have not sinned," we have declared Jesus' confession to be a lie, for we apparently had no sin for him to take but he claims to have taken it anyway.

But it's not simply that we lie about having no sin. What I think the writer is really saying is that by saying we have not sinned, we retain our sin that Jesus claimed to take, so when he says he took our sin, we nullify that assertion and we make him a liar. Interestingly enough, it would seem that we're the ones due punishment for Jesus' lie, though that is merely a side-effect of the fact that retaining our sin means we insist on paying for it ourselves.

Just some thoughts that may or may not end up in my sermon this Sunday...

Opening Day: Snow Flakes in St. Louis

Snow fell pretty hard this morning. What I didn't see as I looked out the 2nd story window of our office building was that it was melting on impact. An hour later, it had stopped. That's snow in April, I guess. There's also some kind of freeze warning going on right now, either tonight or last night I can't remember which.

I was a bit worried about a snow/rain-out, but by noon that seemed unlikely. I had arranged to work early in the morning so I could go to Opening Day, Cardinals vs. Pirates, first pitch just after 3 pm CDT. I hit the road around 1:15 or so, headed as I always do for the Hanley Station Metro-Link stop.

I should know better: On Opening Day, you either get to the Metro-Link about 4 hours before game time, or you make alternate plans. I forgot this Opening Day fact, and I don't improvise well when trying to get somewhere. The only other Metro-Link station I know how to get to I missed the exit for because there's been a lot of renovation around that exit. So, there I was flying down I-70 toward downtown St. Louis, trying to think how to get to other Metro-Link stations and coming up empty, well... to make a long story short, I did a nice roundabout tour of downtown St. Louis, with a side trip to Illinois just for laughs, and finally ended up parking at the Kiel Center parking garage and walking to Busch from there. I missed the parade, but I didn't miss the first pitch. I'd feel more penitent, except the Cardinals are only my #2 team. Still, it was kinda of a lame performance on my part.

It was 38 degrees, but I'd love to know what the wind chill was. Until about the 8th inning, maybe 5 snow flakes fell on the park, plus 2 rain drops. After that, we started getting a handful of flakes/drops per minute. If you heard it snowed today in St. Louis, nah, not really. But it sure was cold.

While I wasn't paying attention, apparently Rick Ankiel grew a mustache.

Adam Wainwright threw 40+ pitches in the first two innings. His counterpart, Paul Maholm didn't even throw 20 to get his first 6 outs. The Cardinals squandered 2 out doubles in each of those innings. Then in the 3rd, the Redbirds used 5 singles to score only 2 runs and I was concerned. Every single was station-to-station, partly because they were all hit hard and right at the outfielder, and partly because the Cardinal starting lineup maybe didn't have enough speed to score from 2nd.

But Wainwright settled down and had two innings with pitch counts in the single digits.

A guy sitting behind me in the RF Bleachers was telling his buddies about a conversation he had with a beer vendor: "Hey, the beer is smaller this year!" "Yeah, but the price didn't go up." Dude: Yes it did. Do the math.

In the 5th, Adam Wainwright stroked a double off Maholm, but was stranded. In the 6th Wainwright faced Maholm, and for reasons passing understanding he walked him on 4 straight pitches. I don't know if he felt guilty or he wanted to make Maholm run the bases like he had to. The former makes no sense, of course, but in 38 degree weather with a stiff wind, I'm thinking the latter makes no sense either.

Santa Claus was in the house, that's how wintry it seemed. Yep, sitting right behind the Cardinal dugout.

Contests: The traditional Clarkson Eye-Care quiz was the kind of lame, lame contest Busch Stadium III has been known for at least half the time. The first clue was "MidSummer Classic" Say no more, a toddler knows the answer. The woman sitting next to me said, "Even I know the answer to that one." Her words, not mine. I don't remember the 2nd clue, but it was equally obvious. The 3rd clue was "4 times in St. Louis". See, Busch Stadium like to sacrifice challenge for theme sometimes. It really is lame. The other contest is a new one -- for Busch Stadium that is: Wheel of Fortune. So here's the board they gave the guy: ___NIN_ _AY __ __SCH _TADI__. Tell me your grandmother couldn't get that one. Go on, tell me. And then to top it off, 3 or 4 lunatics (guys) danced topless on the batters' backdrop in CF between the two sets of bleachers. Like this is a football game or something.

Something weird looking: A guy wearing a Cardinal T-shirt with the number 43 on the back and the name "YAN". I assume that refers to Esteban Yan, former Cardinal reliever (I think? Didn't he spend about 15 minutes with St. Louis one year), but the name did look like it was sewn on after the shirt was made, so who knows?

Since it was getting really cold in the 8th inning, Ryan Ludwick obligingly launched one deep into the LF bleachers (measured at a distance of 417 feet), then Chris Duncan reached first, to be replaced by pinch-running speedster Joe Thurston (O Joe, where were you in the 3rd inning?) who EASILY went from 1st to 3rd on Skip Schumaker's single. Now that's speed. I asked for a deep fly ball next. What we got looked too shallow to RF, but Moss made one of the worst throws I've ever seen and Thurston scored (he may have scored anyway). At first I thought Moss was trying to double off Schumaker, but he threw it in the direction of home, not first. If I recall correctly, the 1st basemen was the cut-off man, so maybe he was just trying to hit him with the throw. What he hit instead was the turf, not once but twice. Skip skipped over the ball back to the bag, and the ball ended up rolling in to the catcher after Thurston had already made it to the dugout.

Jason Motte, welcome to the 9th inning. First pitch was immediately deposited into the left-center gap, putting a runner on 2nd. Jason got a couple of outs, but mixed in with that, he became the 2nd Cardinal pitcher to walk a Pirate pitcher, and he hit a guy. Also a former Tampa Bay Ray by the name of Eric Hinske dumped one into shallow left field. So, with the bases loaded, Jack Wilson stepped up to the plate. I thought, OK, Jason was just toying with the lefties until a righty came up. He quickly worked the count to 0-2, and then he must have laid a fat one in there, and the next thing I knew, Rick Ankiel was watching it bounce off the wall. 3 more runs in, Pirates up 6-4, moans and groans all around, Cardinal fans acting like the season is over (when the Pirates finally made the 3rd out, a medium sized chorus of boos rained down on the home team as they headed toward their dugout). Albert got his 3rd hit of the day, but was stranded at first, and Jason Motte knows the pain of a blown save that turns into a loss for the team. Some fans acted like that was still Izzy out there: "Time to find a new closer!"

I wonder if Khalil Greene can handle the cleanup spot behind Pujols. Ankiel was on first one inning, and after a passed ball he scampered to 2nd, and sure enough, Pittsburgh completed the intentional walk to Albert.

Belated congrats to the Rays

A long time ago... well, almost 6 months ago actually, I prematurely wrote Nice try Tampa Bay after they blew game 5 at Fenway and got beat by Beckett in game 6.

I am so glad the Rays proved me wrong. Unfortunately, I never got around to eating my words on this page (they tasted very good, by the way) because I got busy with something, and then I started shifting gears to College Basketball which is my passion the other 6 months of the year, so I left that post hanging out there all this time. Any lengthy recap now seems weak at best, to say nothing of the fact that I don't remember all that much about it anymore. I do remember that Matt Garza decided early on to start pitching inside, and the Rays played a lot of good small-ball (assuming I know what that phrase means, which I pretty much don't). I wanted to see them prevail in the World Series, and they almost brought it back to the Trop, but still, to see them top the Red Sox to win the pennant was really something special, and I can't emphasize this enough: it was extra special because they ALSO WON THEIR DIVISION. Florida Marlins, take note, please.

Nice Try, Tampa Bay

I'm still planning to recap a relatively successful White Sox 2008 season, but in the meantime, I have been rooting hard for the Rays to win the pennant (a) because I hate the Red Sox, and (b) because I hate the Wild Card and would love just once to see a World Series without any Wild Card teams in it.

But as I write this, the ALCS is all tied up at 3-3 with game 7 tomorrow night at Tropicana Field. In spite of the fact that Tampa Bay has the home field advantage for this 1 game to decide the AL pennant, I believe they are basically done for.

Like all Tampa Bay fans and a lot of other fans elsewhere, I was absolutely loving the butt-whupping the Rays were giving the Red Sox at Fenway this week. As game 5 rolled into the 7th inning, I was reveling in the idea of watching them frolic in front of all those Boston fans. In short, like the Rays and Joe Maddon, I was failing to rise to the occasion.

In retrospect, the sudden meltdown and inhuman Boston comeback was kind of inevitable. For 24 innings at Fenway, things had just been way too easy for the Rays. It was almost as if the equilibrium of the universe was dangerously out of sync, and what happened was a correction. This really was supposed to be a hard fought series going 7 games, and when TB had such an easy time of it at Fenway, they and we failed to realize that a healthy dose of paranoia was called for.

These are not your Father's Red Sox. They have an incredible mojo or something. I don't care if you're up 20-0, 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th, Jason Varitek is down to his last strike: They never stop believing. Never.

I won't say that Maddon letting Balfour pitch to Papi in the 7th inning of game 5 was a mistake, but I will say that, looking back, that appears to be one of those moments where a little paranoia is called for. Balfour had pitched well in game 1, but not so much in game 2. He had not pitched since game 2. To go to him because he's been big for you all season long is not a bad way to look at it, but unfortunately there are moments in post-season where something more than competence is called for.

Joe Maddon said he wanted Balfour and Wheeler to get the final outs. A fair question emerges from the ashes of that debacle: Why, in a mix-and-match bullpen, do you suddenly say that 2 specific pitchers are destined to close out this game? There must have been a lefty in the bullpen to go to. Let him face Pedroia, OK. But Papi? These are the moments that call for greatness, not simply competence. I don't care how many times Balfour may have gotten him out during the season, this is the big prize, and these are the Red Sox. If you bring a lefty in and Papi still goes yard, then you throw up your hands and say it just wasn't meant to be. And then you regroup with a 3-run lead. Certainly if you weren't paranoid before, you become paranoid now.

But if you bring in Miller or Howell (who ended up coming in anyway) and they retire Papi, then you have a 7-1 lead after 7 and you've just dodged a major bullet and shortened the game down to 2 innings. You've blunted the momentum and given your bullpen more room to breathe in the 8th. More "Sweet Caroline" Red Sox fans (Boston Globe's Bob Ryan's name for bandwagon Boston fans) leave the park.

In short, especially with the Red Sox, when you get them down to the ground, you place your foot on their neck and press down hard, and you don't let up one iota until the game and series is over. Even as you crush their neck, you pay attention to their foot and make sure it can't try to kick you in the head.

Having failed to do that, having allowed the cat to get out of the bag so to speak, it was inevitable that Beckett would not have another meltdown like he did in game 2. It is also not surprising that the Rays' bats have gone silent again. And I don't believe the Rays players can block out of their mind the fact that this pennant is slipping away from them. Joe Maddon may not have been kicking himself on the flight back to Florida, but I predict on Monday he will be.

And that's the harsh cruelty of postseason: one misstep, even a very slight one, can make all the difference in the world, especially if you are playing a team of ruthless competitors.

Tomorrow night it is Jon Lester vs. Matt Garza, and if Tampa Bay is to prevail somehow, Garza will have to rise to the occasion like he's never had to do before. Jason Bartlett must develop nerves of steel overnight. Evan Longoria must make every AB count (he's grounded into at least 3 DP's this series). And Joe Maddon must be willing to be a little paranoid and think outside the box. A small dose of "what are they up to now" might just serve him well.

I don't believe Jon Lester is going to have another game like his game 3, either. And the Red Sox have their mojo working for them again. Somehow the Rays have to ramp up their game without succumbing to the pressure.

If they can do that, they will truly earn a high place in history. At this point, I'm betting against it. They still have my undying respect and I think they have the undying respect of the Red Sox and Yankees (if not their fans), regardless of what happens. But they are about to learn the harshest lesson of all: fail to keep the peddle to the metal right up to the bitter end, and your reward is a couch-side seat for the World Series and an offseason of "What-if" nightmares.

Musings on a strange season

I have lived in St. Louis for the past 28 years and am known here as a die-hard Cardinal fan. But over the past couple of years, I have rediscovered the truth about myself: I have always been and always will be a die-hard White Sox fan first and foremost. The Cardinals are merely my "second-favorite" team.

The 2008 season is almost over, and White Sox fans are still hanging by a thread. We near the end of what for me personally has been the most excruciating season in my life. It has not been the most depressing season, not by a long shot. We still have it in our grasp to go to the post season with one day (officially) left in the season. Not only do we have a shot, but we still control our own destiny. Most years when I was growing up in Valparaiso, Indiana, the White Sox struggled to remain competitive and always fell short. In 2005, I was still a fairly inactive White Sox fan until mid-May when I suddenly noticed the team I was breast-fed on was running away with the AL Central division and that something truly special might be going on.

I moved to St. Louis in 1980, and there was no internet, no world-wide-web, no mlb.tv, literally no way to actively follow my team apart from the box scores in the daily paper. I didn't even have cable for the first part of the 80's so there were virtually no White Sox games for me to watch on TV, and the White Sox were never on a truly powerful radio station of the caliber of the mighty KMOX here in St. Louis. In 1985, into that vacuum stepped Vince Coleman and the St. Louis Cardinals, and I had a new team to root for. I still took notice of the White Sox whenever I could, but I just couldn't commit to the relationship.

Now, however, I can watch and listen to every game on-line, and I have connected on-line with other White Sox fans and found the motivation to get up to US Cellular Field a few times to take in games there. After intensely following the White Sox for a couple of years, I have come to realize that the Cardinals were never my #1 team, they were just keeping the seat warm. I actually feel more like a South Sider than a Gateway guy when it comes to baseball. The White Sox rev up their fans 5 minutes before first pitch in a way that makes Busch Stadium pregame festivities pale by comparison.

But in all my years of following the White Sox -- most of them in the distant past -- I can never remember a year like this one. I have taken to calling the 2008 AL Central the "Hot Potato Division". Nobody seems to want to win the thing. Cleveland and Detroit were expecting to fight each other for it, and both got off to such disappointing starts that they have not been in it for a long time. Most pundits thought the White Sox and Twins would be fighting to stay out of the cellar rather than fighting each other for first place. And yet they both have become like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed in Rocky I: unable to put each other away and seemingly happy just to go the distance. The minute one team jumps ahead of the other one, the 2nd place team jumps back in front again. The White Sox once upon a time had a 6.5 game lead, back before the All-Star break, but that evaporated almost as quickly as it emerged. Since the All-Star break most leads have been of only a half-game. Occasionally there has been a 2.5 game lead, but the team that has it just can't stand prosperity.

The White Sox have also had one of the most comical, gut-wrenching first place runs I have ever witnessed. They have what has turned out to be a peculiar mix of personalities in the clubhouse, along with a manager who has exceeded even his own unusually high standards for controversy in a never-ending attempt to motivate his team. He has called his team out in the papers on numerous occasions, sparred with members of other teams, groused about his teams' second-class status in the city of Chicago (an aspect that was deeply ingrained in me growing up), and various other tactics almost always designed to take the heat off his players and put it on him. It worked well early on, but as the season has worn down to the end, these tactics don't seem to be working as well. We currently have a 4-man rotation that has been unstable, a bullpen consisting of precisely 2 reliable arms that cannot be used every day, and an offense that is sputtering.

And we have had to deal with those piranhas from the north, that evil team that plays in the most ungodly home field advantage in all of sports, where home team lucky bounces seem to happen right when they need them to, and where frankly the home team can fundamental you right to death. The White Sox are built for power. The Twins are built for speed. Power can have its dry spells. Bats go silent from time to time. Speed and good bat control are more constant. The White Sox are 7-2 against the Twins at US Cellular Field. The Twins are 8-1 against the White Sox in the Metrodome, or as I affectionately call it, "The World's largest garbage bag." The Twins are a collection of misfits plus two left-handed juggernauts who don't seem to care if a righty or a lefty is on the mound. We just visited the Metrodome with a 2.5 game lead, and everything that could possibly go wrong there did. We left smarting from a painful walk-off loss and a .5 game deficit with 3 games left on the schedule (4 for us, if you count a make-up game with Detroit that may be necessary) having to hope somehow that lowly Kansas City, the perennial doormat of the division could somehow go there and beat the Twins at least a couple of times, while we eek out a victory or two against the Indians at home in Chicago.

It seemed like a daunting task, but as fierce and pesky and annoying as the Twins are, they have so far been putty in the hands of the Royals, losing the first 2, one of which had their golden arm Francisco Liriano on the mound. In doing so, they have opened the door wide for us to retake the division lead at the most crucial time in the season: the finish line series.

And we have inexplicably refused to enter, giving up crooked numbers in the 5th inning two straight games against the Indians. Starters that have been fairly reliable over the entire season did not last long enough to make it an official game (and thus be in line for a victory), and in each game, the reliever brought in to stem the tide has thrown gasoline on the fire instead. In both games, the sputtering offense has come to life again, but fallen just short, while the bullpen takes any additional support runs and given them right back again. Tonight, a 4 run 8th reduced a 6-run deficit to a 2-run deficit, and by the time the bottom of the 9th rolled around, the deficit was back up to 6.

And so here we still sit, .5 game back going into the final day of the official season with still nothing resolved, looking back over a multitude of missed chances by both teams to run away with the division.

The White Sox live by the homer and die by the homer. They can't bunt or move runners over if their lives depend on it. And the pitching breaks down at the most inappropriate times. We are like whales. We fear for our lives, we seek to intimidate you by our size and strength and power. We move slowly, we have trouble executing a run-down and sometimes in running the bases properly. We are a mess. We panic all the time.

The Twins, by contrast, are a team that doesn't have much going for it. They can't overpower anyone. They can't pummel you to death. But they also do not panic, they are fearless, and they are relentless. They cannot be intimidated. They make plenty of mistakes, but no lead is safe with them. In the apt words of Bert Blyleven, color analyst for their TV broadcasts this past Thursday night, "They simply refuse to quit." Take a 5 run lead on them in the top of the 4th inning, and for the remaining 7 innings (starting with the bottom of the 4th), they will gnaw you to death. Piranhas are small, they are no match for whales or sharks, but they will pounce on any and all mistakes. They will make plenty of mistakes themselves, as they did in that 6-run 4th we had on Thursday, and you damn well better take advantage of them while you have them, because you know they will do the same. They have an infielder who one of these days will hurt himself sliding into first base, but against us every time he did it he was safe. He would have been safe by a mile if he had run through the base; I like to see such idiotic sliders actually pay for there mistakes by turning a hit into an out. Instead, he kicks up a lot of dirt, ignites the crowd, and leaves you shaking your head in disgust. It's really annoying.

And yet, as we see the Royals take the first 2 in the Metrodome, the Twins can certainly be bested, even at home. So while the Twins have to be laughing their asses off at the futility that is the White Sox, they also have to be kicking themselves for failing to capitalize on it. Brandon Duckworth goes tomorrow for KC instead of their ace Zach Grienke, but the White Sox have also been spared Cliff Lee. Where 10-4 Scott Baker goes for Minnesota, 14-12 Mark Buehrle goes for the White Sox. The latter seems to be the most reliable choice for a big-game pitcher, but even he has had his slumps this year.

And now in the final week of the season, one more thing added to the mix: the White Sox look like -- from the outside -- a team with a lot of internal turmoil, from the sulking switch-hitting left fielder grousing about riding the bench in Minnesota, to the flashy, temperamental shortstop who thinks he's the manager and can call out his teammates in public, to the mysterious pitcher who, since he joined the White Sox in 2006 has shown a lot of potential but somewhat disappointing follow-through and who was jawing with his catcher tonight in the midst of giving up 6 runs to the Indians ... the White Sox look like a team imploding from within at the worst possible moment.

It is hard to imagine either one of these teams going very far in the postseason. Ironically enough, either the Royals or the Indians are probably a lot more capable right now of representing the division in the postseason than the two teams who are still alive for the final spot in the American League.

But this has also been a very enjoyable and memorable season, which just adds to the agony, but which will come in another posting tomorrow or the next day.

All-Star game continued...

Yesterday, Tom Verducci of SI was interviewed by Charlie Steiner of Baseball Beat (XM Radio channel 175, "MLB Home Plate"), and in the course of their conversation, the excitement and tension in this year's 15 inning All-Star game came up, and Verducci (originally a detractor of "This time it counts", by his own admission) pointed to the excitement in extra innings not only evident in the stands but also in the dugouts (where even players who had been replaced were still on pins and needles on the top step of the dugout) as proof beyond a shadow of a doubt that "This time it counts" is successful, and anyone who still doubts this is living in an alternate universe and doesn't know it. He might as well have used that famous line that is now regularly used with respect to the Wild Card: "The debate is over."

I found Cook delivers gutsy, memorable effort to be an excellent recap of those tense extra innings. Even better was Tenth inning provides All-Star drama. It is certainly thrilling to read how Miguel Tejada's play for the final out in the bottom of the 10th nearly brought down the house.

It is of course noteworthy that what brought down the house was not the AL (the home team) winning (in fact, this play was one of many that threatened to prolong the game past the endurance levels of both managers and probably many of the fans there), but simply a fantastic play. Let me underscore that again: a play that did not resolve this game that now "Counts!" I wonder if there's an object lesson there ....

At any rate, my response to Tom Verducci would be: I'm not going to seriously argue that Home Field advantage in the World Series hanging in the balance may have heightened the drama last Tuesday at Yankee Stadium. After all, if the players and the managers believe it makes a difference, then it effectively does. I would only mention that famous logical fallacy Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Just because the game was terribly exciting after Bud Selig made this "tweak" in the All-Star game, does not prove cause-and-effect. More importantly, it does not prove that this "tweak" was necessary to make the players try that hard to win. Surely there are still old time fans alive who can remember when the players went all out to win the All-Star game at a time when the game had zero impact on the post-season.

However, that has never been my argument against this gimmick, though I still question how big a deal it really is, since home field advantage only matters if the World Series reaches the 7th game.

My argument is this: what is so wrong about treating this game like the exhibition game that it is??? To approach it from the opposite end, it is still obvious that this game is still basically an exhibition game when Terry Francona inserts his 3rd pitcher to begin the 4th inning of a scoreless game, and replaced Alex Rodriguez with Joe Crede at about the same time (and I'm a White Sox fan so I loved seeing Crede in there so early). If A-Rod had somewhere else to be later in the evening, then maybe there should be some way to replace him from the start (If the game really matters, then players should be able to adjust their schedules around that game, don't you think?). And if a pitcher is only allowed to pitch one inning, then maybe he should be replaced too. After all, if the game really matters, then everyone on the team should show up ready to play for real, not with a list of exemptions a mile long.

Obviously this is still pretty much an exhibition game. To take what is pretty much an exhibition game and translate it into Home Field advantage in the World Series is illogical.

I want my All-Star game back

Every year, Kyle Whelliston goes into a self-imposed exile, avoiding at all costs any mention of the Super Bowl, trying his best to live his life as if that particular game does not exist. I had thoughts of doing the same thing this year with the All-Star game, but I was not up to the challenge. I settled for abstaining from watching or listening to it, but I still had to follow the game with MLB Gameday.

Yes, I want my All-Star game back. You know -- back when it was an exhibition game and everyone recognized this unassailable fact. "This time it counts" has kind of ruined it for me. I confess the one reason why I did follow the game on-line as mentioned is because I wanted to see if the NL could somehow win the game for a change. Alternatively, I was fascinated to find out what method to which the NL would resort to blow this particular All-Star game.

When the game reached midnight and went into extra innings, I shut off my computer and went to sleep, dreaming of the game still ending in a tie. I was hoping to wake up the next morning to find out they were still playing. I would have laughed for a good five minutes.

1. Has anyone considered that to assign home-field advantage to the World Series based on the outcome of a game where one league has the home-field advantage is asinine?

2. When Bud "Darth Vader" Selig has to send foot soldiers down to each clubhouse in extra innings, saying, "Guys? You see that padlock on the clubhouse door? You're not getting out of here until one of you wins. You're here for the duration," you know the war has already been lost. You can't force people to play an exhibition game as if it is a one-game playoff for the final postseason slot if they don't naturally want to play it that way. Terry Francona used his third pitcher in the 4th inning (of a scoreless game) and took A-Rod out of the game in that same inning. You don't do things like that if the primary objective is to win the game.

3. The game used to count 30 or 40 years ago. It doesn't anymore. Get over it, Bud. When at least half your pitching staff arrives at the game with little notes pinned to their uniforms: "Dear Mr. Manager, please do not use my pitcher for more than 1 inning or more than 25 pitches, whichever comes first. Thanks very much, signed, Mr. Pitching coach", you can't possibly manage as if your primary objective is to win the game. Face it, the days when you could use each pitcher for 3 innings and guys like Willie Mays could play 15 innings are gone. You can't get them back.

4. It's a baseball game. The fundamental objective is to score more runs than the other team. If any player can't at least treat the game that way, they don't belong there in the first place. That said, there's really no reason to try to reinforce that imperative with band-aid measures like "This time it counts!" Of course Francona and Hurdle wanted to win the game, and so frankly do all the players involved in the game. But there simply are other concerns to be attended to as well, and you're never going to make winning at all costs the theme of this exhibition. So, why pretend to heighten the importance of the outcome -- beyond just the joy of winning the game all by itself?

5. While we're at it, tell me this: Why is it the utter end of the world if the game does end in a tie???? I mean, I get that this is no ordinary exhibition game (ordinary exhibition games end in a tie all the time, every year, by the way, and nobody cares). Sure, it's on the national stage, and it is a little embarrassing. But a catastrophe of biblical proportions?? I don't get that. If you're that ashamed of the 2002 All-Star game, there are things you can tweak about the rules of the All-Star game itself (somebody a long time ago suggested allowing a catcher that has been replaced return to the game in extra innings if necessary), without resorting to this nonsense about home-field advantage in the WS. That's an incentive where none is really needed. What are needed are some special rules that facilitate managing this special game to a desirable conclusion without altering the basic flavor of the game.

6. Billy Ripken was interviewed on MLB Home Plate (XM channel 175) and pinpointed something else that must change: we have to have contingency plans for all these players that show up with this or that restriction on their usage. He didn't make any concrete suggestions, but if a guy is not ready to go a reasonable amount in the game, there ought to be a way to say, "Ya know, come on up and soak up the atmosphere, enjoy your introduction, tip your hat to the fans, enjoy the parade, you earned it, but we're gonna put you on the disabled list for this game and bring someone else up for this game that can go longer so we're not so hamstrung."

7. Billy's interviewer had the temerity to ask if the excitement of this year's game was significantly enhanced by "This time it counts!" Essentially, Billy's response was: "Are you kidding me???" Well put, Billy. If you can't find yourself with one foot on the top step of the dugout feeling the tension while Aaron Cook gets out of a bases-loaded-no-outs situation in the bottom of the 9th, you're not a baseball player. If you are sitting in the stands in that moment feeling the least bit bored, you're not a baseball fan. "This time it counts!" adds absolutely nothing to the excitement that is inherent in the sport itself.

My goal next year is to pull a Kyle Whelliston for real this time: No voting, and completely ignoring baseball for 3 days in July. I don't know if I can pull it off, but Bud, if you're reading this and want me back as a fan of this game, give me my All-Star game back.

Requiem for adverbs

"This team is doing things different than they used to ..."

"He's throwing the ball pretty good right now ..."

How often have I heard statements like these recently?

I can only guess one of two things has happened: (1) the adverbs are on strike, (2) the adjectives banded together and started dressing up like adverbs and nobody noticed the difference.

I need to point out a couple of things: (1) In my experience, the main culprits have not been athletes, for whom fluent communication is not necessarily what they are supposed to major in, but rather the play-by-play announcers and sports analysts (for whom fluent communication is what they are supposed to major in), (2) these statements I'm hearing are coming from people for whom English is their first language.

I was just watching the highlights for tonight's MLB games, and George Grande, "a 39-year veteran of the broadcasting business" and currently the TV voice of the Cincinnati Reds, announced Jerry Hairston's 3rd inning home run, "He hit it pretty good to left..."

George, try this with me: "He hit it pretty well to left..." He announced Griffey's walk-off home run the same way.

Now, I certainly do not expect George, or anyone else calling a home run to double-check a grammar manual while the home run ball flies out of the park and the moment of excitement is gone forever. Obviously, fluent communication is something you learn ahead of time so that it becomes second nature, even in the heat of the moment. I'm thinking that the sports journalism community as a whole has been skipping the lessons on adverbs for some time now.

Maybe we need Tom Lehrer to come out of retirement and help us with his L-Y song:

"You're wearing your squeaky shoes
And right there taking a snooze
Is a tiger, so how do you walk on by?..."

I can just hear a sports announcer answer: "real quiet-like." Ugh. I actually can easily imagine hearing George Grande or John Rooney or Karl Ravech not only using an adjective to describe the verb "walk", but compounding the offense by using the adjective "real" to describe the adjective-masquerading-as-an-adverb "quiet" (the "-like" is added as an unconscious admission that "quiet" is the wrong form to use).

Live Blogging and the NCAA

Now I understand why press row at a College basketball game generally doesn't have an internet connection.

The web info game (The Forum of Fargo-Moorhead, North Dakota) reports that live blogging at NCAA events is a serious issue that they are trying to deal with, meaning they are trying to prohibit.

A fantasy of mine as a blogger for fans of The Summit League (formerly the Mid-Continent Conference) and now for fans of The Horizon League, which Valparaiso University is now a part of, has been to be able to blog a conference tournament courtside. I never seriously tried to pursue this because it seemed like a pipe-dream that I had no right to expect to be fulfilled. I just thought it would be neat. As it is, I have settled for posting my observations from my hotel room each night.

At the same time, I have often noticed that the in-game scores of other games that play-by-play announcers relay during timeouts of the game they are doing are sometimes way behind where those games actually are, and in this age of the internet, I have wondered why that would be, since someone at the corresponding radio station should be able to keep up with other games better than that. Now I wonder if the above article explains in some sense why this would be so. I have been told that they get scores via phone hookups to the other schools in the conference, and the time it takes for the score to travel from the control room to courtside, plus the time it takes to reach a timeout so there is a chance to pass on those scores might well explain the disparity. It appears that they don't have an internet connection courtside, so they can't just directly check for updates. At the time, this seemed backward, but the above article presents some plausible reasons for this.

It used to matter tons more than it will ever count in the future

To continue the thought, something else occurred to me. Interestingly enough, it was prior to the elimination of the reserve clause when the players truly played the All-Star game like it mattered. But long before "This time it counts", it stopped mattering as much as it used to. "This time it counts" is a cheap way to try to regain what has been lost forever.

Which is not to say that it was qualitatively better back then. Maybe it's wrong for this game to matter so much, and maybe player freedom (free agency) has helped bring about that change.

What it shows is that you can't take an exhibition game and manufacture it's importance. For mixed reasons, the game result used to be the most important thing simply for pride's sake. Now it no longer is, and to think you can replace that with some gimmick like home field advantage for game 7 of the WS is preposterous, sort of like the Wild Card...

"This time it counts" is a joke.

Red Schoendienst remains the last Cardinal manager to win an All-Star game, beating Mayo Smith's AL squad, 9-3 on July 23rd, 1969 at RFK stadium, home of the brand new expansion Washington Senators.

Whitey Herzog was 0 for 3 in a Cardinal uniform, and now Tony LaRussa is 0-2. Of course, in the 80's Herzog was almost the lone NL manager to lose in the MidSummer Classic, joined only by Tommy Lasorda in 1989. Tony LaRussa, on the other hand, is just one of 9 NL managers in the past 11 years to lose this game: Bobby Cox, Jim Leyland, Bruce Bochy, Bobby Valentine, Bob Brenly, Felipe Alou, Jack McKeon, and Phil Garner all failed to win, with only Bob Brenly being spared the loss in that fateful 2002 game that has now given us "This time it counts!"

Really?

1. The only way it counts for anything is if there is a WS game 7. Just for the record, 2002 was the last time the WS went the full 7 games, and "This time it counts" didn't start until 2003. The Marlins and the Cardinals won without it, and in fact, the Marlins had the same number of home games as the Yankees, and the Cardinals had 3 home games to the Tigers' 2. The White Sox and the Red Sox had it and didn't need it; they both swept in 4. So, in practice, the All-Star game result has meant zilch so far.

2. Joe Buck, among others, keeps babbling about how it has changed the way the game is managed. "What we've noticed in talking to managers who have a reason to try and win and gain home-field advantage in the World Series -- whether it's [AL manager Jim] Leyland this year, and I think it's farfetched with [NL manager Tony] La Russa -- for the guys doing the game, it makes it more fun and interesting because there is strategy involved. Because of roster moves that have more to do with strategy. We like it. It's something that has added to our conversation during the course of the game. It's been debated for years now. It enhances it." Tim McCarver chimes in with "It affects the managers more than the players. It's farfetched to think if Carl Crawford is batting with two out and a man on second base in the ninth, he's saying, 'Let's win this for David Ortiz, so the Red Sox can win home-field advantage.' That's not the case. But for the manager, that is the case. I think Tony and Jim will be playing to win, and prior to this format, I don't think they played to win. First and foremost, thoughts were on playing to get guys into the game."

Hogwash. Apparently neither one of them was paying attention when Jim Leyland said that winning was not the most important thing. By some accounts, ARod didn't score because he decided not to pull a Pete Rose and crash into the catcher at home plate, though the AL ended up winning anyway. LaRussa held Albert Pujols back in case the game went into extra innings so that he wouldn't run out of position players.

If it really counted, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to pinch-hit Pujols in the 9th or sooner for someone, and then figured out the defensive alignment if it came to that later. He would have played for the win in the 9th and made do in extra innings with whatever was left.

The truth is, for some time now, winning has taken a back seat to showmanship and satisfying the wishes of individual teams. Whitey Herzog in 1983 at least said so openly: I don't care about winning, I care about giving everyone a chance to play. He was probably exaggerating his indifference a bit, but the truth is, today's All-Star manager has a roster of players who often come with notes from their team saying, "Don't play my guy" or "My pitcher only goes 1 inning." The starters aren't chosen by the managers unless the leading vote getter has to bow out with an injury. There are all kinds of considerations besides winning involved here. Jim Leyland purposely placed his 3 Tiger starters at the bottom of the order to dispel any suggestion of favoritism and asked his own right fielder Ordonez to move to left instead of Vlad Guerrero. It's not that these moves were ridiculous. It's simply that he had higher concerns than simply winning the game.

The truth is, this game is still an exhibition, and nobody really acts like it counts all that much. To suggest that it is a very important game in the middle of a given season is the height of stupidity. Deep down inside, nobody truly believes it.

Introduction

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