Please, don't let us lose to the Giants. I've had the pleasure of Super Bowl wins. They were dandy. That loss back in 07 really humbled us. I could lose to any other team and say, "wow, its been a great year." But not Eli. Not the Giants.
That is all.
EDIT: The game didn't quite go as planned. But at least the commercials were solid this year.
I've seen a number of posts dealing with Paterno on Facebook today. I'll admit my knowledge of the subject is a bit sketchy--coming mostly from a few minutes of Dan Patrick's radio program the past few days. From what I understand, 10 years ago a member of the football program was caught fondling a young child in the Penn State locker room by a graduate assistant. The assistant in turn notified Joe Paterno, who notified administration. No one, to my knowledge, ever notified the police.
I have a very hard time processing that last sentence.
Given what I have heard on sports radio, so does most of America.
Today, Joe Paterno released a statement:
I am absolutely devastated by the developments in this case. I grieve for the children and their families, and I pray for their comfort and relief.
I have come to work every day for the last 61 years with one clear goal in mind: To serve the best interests of this university and the young men who have been entrusted to my care. I have the same goal today.
That’s why I have decided to announce my retirement effective at the end of this season. At this moment the Board of Trustees should not spend a single minute discussing my status. They have far more important matters to address. I want to make this as easy for them as I possibly can.
This is a tragedy. It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more.
My goals now are to keep my commitments to my players and staff and finish the season with dignity and determination. And then I will spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to help this University
What bothers me about this statement, the first public statement by Paterno in the aftermath of this story, is its political maneuverings. While an apology, it is also an attempt to bargain with Penn State's Board of Trustees, who themselves have scheduled a meeting on Friday to determine Paterno's future. Regardless of whether I believe Paterno should coach the remainder of the season, I do not think he should use an apologetic statement as a forum for implicitly pleading his case.
My RSA proposal this year centers around public apologies, specifically apologies by athletes. In short form: my argument is that many public apologies fail when the speaker attempts to implicitly argue their innocence rather than completely accept fault for their actions.
In Paterno's apology, as in the apology of so many athletes testing positive for performance enhancing drugs, there is an argument. Albeit an argument of a different level of stasis, but an argument all the same. In each case there is a self-centered exertion to control and limit judgement. I don't want an argument here. I want sincerity. I want submission. Say you are sorry, more than sorry, and leave it to the mob to decide your fate. My guess (and, my hope) is that, outside of the Penn State faithful, the majority of sports fans will dissect and dismiss this "apology." Though it is not nearly as inadequate to this situation as his "response" was to a horrific situation nearly a decade ago.
I've been meaning to find time to write this for a few days. Here goes in enthymematic form:
This team started the year 3 and 9. They ended the year 7 and 20. For the other 123 games, they played very well. It is easy to blame Francona for those other 39 games. Too easy. I am not too disappointed or shocked by the collapse. Again, this team started 3-9, and had they made the playoffs they would have set a record for overcoming the worst start to a season. To even get close is impressive. If you flipped the Sox record in September with their record in July, then Francona would be celebrated as a gritty manager who kept his team struggling through adversity.
This team couldn't pitch. After Buchholz went down in early August, they were left with two quality pitchers (Lester and Beckett). It September, even those two struggled. In the past I have questioned how long Francona rides his starters. But there is nothing he can do about Lackey's (understandably, given his personal situation) dismal season, Wakefield's increasing age, Dice-K's Dice-k-ness, etc. The manager says who will pitch, when they'll pitch, and sometimes where they should throw it. But he doesn't make the (repeatedly) bad throws.
Put simply, this team didn't have the talent it thought it had. I have written record regarding my skepticism toward this pitching staff and Carl Crawford from last spring (for all those who defended the Crawford signing--how's that remaining $130 million looking now?).
I am very sad to lose Terry Francona. Like Joe Torre, there are questions regarding Francona's "X's and O's" strategy. But what can't be questioned, I think, is his ability to handle the vicious Boston media and fan base. I think the character with which he ended his tenure in Boston speaks volumes. He will be missed. And he will be difficult to replace.
The soul of Boston might be reinvigorated this off-season. Let's face it, we were never accustomed to winning. We didn't always handle it well. And, while the $170 million dollar payroll prohibits us from becoming lovable losers ever again, at least Boston gets to be what it is comfortable being: pissed.
As a Boston/New England sports fan, the first decade of the new century went rather well. Perhaps too well. Our cultural ethos is constructed around losing and misfortune. Might it be that things are returning to normal?
This was an odd year for the Red Sox. While the offense struggled mightily, and while the pitching staff failed to live up to the lofty expectations, the Sox still made the playoffs. To lose in a sweep is a bit unexpected; to see Papelbon blow the save seems fitting for a season in which he, and other beloved veterans, struggled.
The Red Sox still have a very good collection of young players. The bloated contract of J.D. Drew will haunt them for at least one more year (two if Drew stays healthy). It will be interesting to see what happens with Jason Varitek and Jason Bay in the off-season. ESPN doesn't have the CERA (catcher's ERA) numbers for Martinez behind the plate, but I am going to guess its not as good as Varitek's 3.87 (since the team ERA on the season is 4.35). It should not be overlooked that Martinez, and not Varitek, was catching yesterday as the Red Sox stellar, hard-throwing bullpen imploded. I was previously concerned about this.
Bay had a roller-coaster season. I imagine he is seeing dollar signs this off-season. The Yankees have a considerable amount of money rolling off the books this year. I still fully expect Carl Crawford to execute the one million dollar buyout on his contract to become a free agent. That will put Crawford, Bay, and Matt Holliday (ouch, that error hurt--I still think his numbers with St. Louis were an aberration--buyer beware with this guy) at the top of a talented group of free agent outfielders, that additionally includes Manny, a resurgent Abreu, Magglio Ordonez (injuries a factor here), and others. Most of the major markets--Yankees, Mets, Red Sox, Dodgers (bye bye Manny?) will be potential buyers.
I have a feeling that the team will see a major shake-up this off-season: only time will tell if Varitek, Bay, Papelbon, or Mike Lowell returns next season. Papelbon in particular will be interesting to watch. The Red Sox still control him, but they have had difficulty coming to terms the past few seasons--and just barely avoided arbitration last year. I think part of the hesitation here is giving Papelbon, who has a chronic shoulder issue, a high-end long term deal. To avoid arbitration, and make the deal worthwhile for all sides, the contract would likely work out something like 32 million for 4 years (K-Rod got 37 million for 3 as an outright free agent). I had a feeling, when the Sox wouldn't pull the trigger on the Halladay deal, that Bard was being groomed as a future closer. So, as much as I love the glare, I wonder how much longer Papelbon will be in Boston. Please note that my wondering has absolutely nothing to do with his performance yesterday. He lived dangerously at times this season, but is still a top closer. I just think, medically and economically, the Red Sox front office has showed hesitation to lock up Paps as they have locked up Pedroia, Youkilis, and Lester.
As to the Patriots, it is very hard for me to watch Tom Brady right now, if only because he set the bar so high. But his deep ball looks as accurate as JaMarcus Russell's right now. I remember when Joe Montana returned from his elbow injury- though still great, he wasn't Joe Montana. That's how I feel watching Brady right now. Again, time will tell whether, like Donovan McNabb, he is able to recover from this injury or if, like Carson Palmer, Brady never quite returns to the level he was pre-injury.
I've been thoroughly enjoying a re-reading of McLuhan's Understanding Media; I wanted to share this paragraph on baseball. McLuhan articulates something I have felt without being able to express for sometime. I think my interest in sabermetric evaluations of defense and BABIP stem from an unconscious desire to complicate and de-individualize baseball. Anywho, here is McLuhan:
Just where to begin to examine the transformation of American attitudes since TV is a most arbitrary affair, as can be seen in a change so great as the abrupt decline of baseball. The removal of the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles was a portent in itself. Baseball moved West in an attempt to retain an audience after TV struck. The characteristic mode of the baseball game is that if features one-thing-at-a-time. It is a lineal, expansive game which, like golf, is perfectly adapted to the outlook of an individualist and inner-directed society. Timing and waiting are of the essence, with the entire field in suspense waiting upon the performance of a single player. By contrast, football, basketball, and ice hockey are games in which many events occur simultaneously, with the entire team involved at the same time. With the advent of TV, such isolation of the individual performance as occurs in baseball became unacceptable. Interest in baseball declined, and its starts, quite as much as movie stars, found that fame had some very cramping dimensions. Baseball had been, like the movies, a hot medium featuring individual virtuosity and stellar performers. The real ball fan is a store of statistical information about previous explosions of batters and pitchers in numerous games. Nothing could indicate more clearly the peculiar satisfaction provided by a game that belonged to the industrial metropolis of ceaselessly exploding populations, stocks and bonds, and production and sales records. Baseball belonged to the age of the first onset of the hot press and the movie medium. It will always remain a symbol of the era of the hot mommas, jazz babies, of sheiks and shebas, of vamps and gold-diggers and the fast buck. Baseball, in a word, is a hot game that got cooled off in the new TV climate, as did most of the hot politicians and hot issues of the earlier decades. (Understanding Media 326)
To appreciate the passage likely requires familiarity with McLuhan's particular (and perhaps unintuitive) notions of hot and cold media. Hot media are those which sensually overwhelm the audience, such as books, movies, radio, and television; audience members do not participate in the creation of meaning as much as they are absorbed by it. Cool media, on the other hand, invite hermeneutic participation, the audience feels less as if they are receiving a finished product and more that they are engaged in the creative process. For McLuhan, such a binary was perhaps best represented by two media that we would likely consider similar today: "low definition" television versus "high definition" movies. Television was spontaneous (represented by the game show) while movies were, literally, scripted. Television was caught in the flow of lived time, while movies existed outside of time--and what could be more out of time than baseball, which follows no clock? In such light, how do we interpret baseball's contemporary emphasis on game time and continuity?
Work has been overwhelming of late, and I have been ignoring my blog and my friends. Sorry about that.
I have been following baseball more closely this summer than I have recently--its my lunch hour obsession. In addition to maintaining a fantasy team, I've been reading up on some of the new statistical analysis over at Baseball Prospectus. I find it really interesting stuff--and indicative of how complexity theory complicates traditional methods of assessment, but I'll save those posts for another day.
Today, I just wanted to share an email I sent to a former student and Cub fan. I had earlier expressed my empathy for the Cubs slow start this season, to which he responded that it was nothing new, and that losing builds "character." My response:
To think this word "character" a bit differently-- as a Red Sox fan, it is striking to me how much their World Series victory rocked Red Sox nation. Of course there was jubilation, but there was also a profound sense of loss, I think. And the second victory only punctuated that sense. At a psychologically unconscious level, I think winning the WS was quite disturbing for Sox fans since it robbed us of our identity, our character, our way of relating to the world.
Eventually, I firmly believe, the Cubs will win. They have grown into one of baseball's exclusive "large market" teams, providing them with a considerable financial advantage. As with the Red Sox, this will translate into a World Series victory. It will likely take a figure of Curt Schilling's stature--a leadership personality who commands the locker room, in the face of all that losing tradition, to envision and capture victory. Someone needs to wack a figurative bloody sock upside the billy goat's face, and the Cub's just don't have that guy--especially not when their best player can't keep his cool. But in the ESPN era, money does tend to translate into success (though sustaining success is a different matter).
So, to conjure up a quote that just doesn't mean to me what it used to, "keep the faith."
I might use this example later this summer--I am teaching a section of Introductory Composition and plan on using Jim Corder's "Argument as Emergence, Rhetoric as Love." Losing the narrative of the "lovable losers" has been difficult for me--and I think traces of this difficulty can be read across Red Sox nation. All I can say is that, while I still watch baseball, something isn't there anymore, the experience feels uncanny, and I believe, in that moment, I am experiencing the withdrawal of what I thought was myself, so that, what is really missing is the me I thought myself to be.
This started as a comment on FB, but I figured I'd post it here. I've been thinking about this for about a week--what Michael Vick needs to do to "prove his remorse." (I assumed that this is what spurred Cody Lumpkins' FB post--remembering him to be a Falcons fan). My idea is that all he needs to do is offer a short Public Service Announcement, something like this:
"Dear America, I am truly sorry for the suffering I caused each and every animal. I have had two years in prison to reflect on the seriousness of my crimes. I hope that this message will help convince young people out there to stay away from the heinousness of dog fighting. While I ask for your forgiveness, I urge that none of us forget this incident--that it serves to help end animal cruelty."
That's all he has to say. Then, he has to do some more PSA's and donate some time to animal cruelty. In fact, Cody, I think the question becomes "how CAN'T one show remorse"--for the answer to that question, see PacMan Jones. Everyone who matters in football is ready to give this guy a second chance--Goodell, Arthur Blank, Tony Dungy (who's words probably carry the most weight).
I think his rhetorical situation needs to be informed by the failures of A-Rod's steroids apology. Beyond the fact that A-Rod lied (d'oh for thinking that the American baseball media wouldn't look into the story of someone they already despise--they/we only ignore the facts when they/we like someone), he transfered blame to a "something" other than himself. In A-Rod's case, it was "youth." "Young and stupid." Well, at least one of those were true.
Vick could go the same route, and talk about "culture"--being brought up in a culture that values dog fighting. Were I defending him (postmodernist that I am), this is the route I would go--that the outrage against Vick is a bit excessive if viewed across the access of cultural difference. We can certainly still identify it as wrong, but hopefully such an identification would come with less venom if we undermine the absolute "natural" foundation for such an indentification. A few players tried to go the "culturally relative" route, by noting that there's not much difference between dog fighting and hunting, and they were publicly lambasted. And while I agree that there is a difference between dog fighting and hunting, I would say that its not that big a difference.... BUT
This is not the rhetorical route for Vick to go. Because I believe that many people do not care about dog fighting to the degree the media would have us believe. The truly, picket-carrying outraged are out there--and they will reject Vick no matter what. But I think the majority of the public audience would be willing to give Vick a chance so long as his remorse seems heartfelt (pathos) and as long as he "owns" his misdeed (instead of projecting the wrong-doing onto an era in sports, the stupidity of youth, his brother's pharmacist, etc.). I believe Vick deserves a second chance--and I believe all the rhetorical markers are in place for him to actually get one. What remains to be seen is whether or not he will waste it.
Its January 31st, 2009. Many sports fans will consider today the day before the Superbowl. But I'm from Boston, so I consider today 13 days until pitchers and catchers. If the Patriots aren't in the playoffs, then its just the pre-baseball pre-season. This makes perfect sense to anyone from Boston.
With that in mind, here's my third baseball post in as many days. After yesterday, I got to thinking about when Manny's punishment would end. All along, I expected the Dodgers to throw down 3 years 60 million. But then, after looking up the Cardinals 2009 salaries, I looked at the Dodgers. Things aren't looking good for Manny; the Dodgers are already floating 118 million, the highest in team history. Granted, they offered Manny 22.5 earlier this season, but that's before giving Rafael Furcal 15.7 per season (which makes zero sense--a shortstop coming off injury with a career OPS of .764... yikes). They could still make the deal, but that jacks their salary figure to 2nd in baseball.
So, I did some digging. Here's my list of teams most likely to sign the Man-ram:
There's a few other teams out there who could take a shot--Minnesota and Cleveland could be in the mix. Thinking back to my baseball economy post, there's hesitancy in this market to risk committing this much money to such an unstable player. On a side note--I feel bad for the Brewers. After so much mediocrity, they are really investing in their franchise. I hope the fans can afford to come out and support the team.
Albert Pujols mentioned that he'd like the Cards to invest in Manny Ramirez. Looking at their lineup, one can see why. Pujols hasn't had any real protection since the fade of Edmonds and the departure of Rolen. Ankiel faded last season (hitting well below .200 in both August and September), and expecting Glaus to play 162 requires crossing-fingers and sacrificing chickens. So, sure, the Cards could use another bat. And I would argue that Ramirez and Pujols are the two best right-handed hitters of my lifetime, and, perhaps, all-time. If you look at all the numbers, and not just home runs, then they are both better than that other guy.
But its not going to happen. If you look over at Cot's Baseball Contracts, then you'll see that the Cards salary is already at 99 million. Nothing suggests that the cards could afford Manny, even at a discount he's going to command 20 million a year. And, the Cards second best hitter is likely Ryan Ludwick, their young left field prospect who OPS'd .966 last year (compared to Manny's 1.041).
As I mentioned in my last post, Manny is in baseball purgatory. He is being punished for the second highest baseball crime: slacking (gambling, of course, is the worst). I honestly believe that if you could assure the Cardinals, or any team, that you'd get the Dodgers' Manny (.396 .489 .743 OPS+ of 219), they'd offer Boras' desired 6 years, 150 million in the time it took to grab a pen. But real life isn't MLB: The Show. Manny's Boston numbers last season (.299 .398 .529 OPS+ of 136) demonstrate that he will tank it if he is unhappy with his contract. And the very nature of this off-season ensures that, wherever he signs next season, he will be unhappy.
Hey, whoever, good luck with that.
I just read a story over at MLB.com on baseball economics this year. While some high profile players have received big deals, many major leaguers are feeling the pinch of our struggling economy. Some big names have settled for small money (Milton Bradley with the Cubs for 10 million a season, Pat Burrell with the Rays for 8 million). While the figures might not seem small, they compare to a baseball economy 2 and 3 years ago that saw anybody on an all-star roster earning 15 million a season (above average guys like Johnny Damon, Mike Lowell, J.D. Drew and Alfonso Soriano come to mind). We're not talking about the superstar, "can't go to the bathroom or I'll miss his at bat" guys, but rather the quality, impact starters that fall just below that threshold.
But even those guys are feeling it this year. Jason Varitek is expected to see his pay reduced in half after one poor season. Bobby Abreau, a formidable OPS guy, can't find a long-term deal. Neither can Adam Dunn, one of my favorite players to watch (and someone who hits balls somewhere in the vicinity of Venus). I'll leave Manny out of this right now since I think his lack of contract is a baseball penance... The pinch is everywhere. Teams in baseball aren't necessarily trying to "win" this year--they are trying to survive. You'll see a lot of minor leaguers filling out major league rosters this year, while a few veterans with fuel in their tanks sit home.
That got me to thinking that this is probably true across our whole country. We are all very much in a cultural atmosphere of survival. I wonder how the oppulance of the Superbowl will feel this year--if something pathetically won't quite jive. I can say I don't feel like celebrating anything. I also wonder how this attitude plays into Obama's election--did we vote for him out of hope for a better future, or rather for the fact that he didn't believe we were winning, that things weren't right. Didn't we need a leader to give us that kind of honesty? I would propose that we were not, as some critics might have us believe, deceived by a dream; we were convinced by the nakedness of honest, self-directed criticism. Perhaps. We certainly did celebrate his election... could that have only been little more than a week ago?
The exception to my baseball analogy, of course, would be the Yankees, who spent around 440 million dollars in about 10 days. They are out there trying to win. But, I think I hate the Yankees as much as the rest of the country seems to hate Republicans, so lets not include them in that "everybody."
I guess I cannot complain too much. We've had things pretty good in New England for awhile now. You know: fewer confederate flags (future post coming), really good seafood, and a string of championships.
So rather than cry about Brady, I'll enjoy the Red Sox, look forward to the Celtics, and remind myself that this is a "free year" when it comes to the NFL. If we lose this season, then we're no different than any other NFL team: sunk in the water without their starting QB (especially since our starting QB happens to be the reigning MVP).
But oh, if we win...
P.S.- This lowers my faith in humanity by about 4.736 points. Just for anyone keeping score.
I join John Saunders as one of the few college football fans who doesn't necessarily believe college football needs an extended playoff system. I would like to see a four team, two round system, but I don't believe we need a 16 team, multi-round format.
I bring this up because many broadcasters and writers will spend time this season lamenting the plight of those powerhouse teams in the SEC who will not get to compete for the national championship. These teams will eliminate each other in the country's best conference; while top programs in weaker conferences-- notably USC and Ohio State-- will "roll" into the playoffs. Or so the story goes. God forbid a Big East or ACC team go undefeated.
So, here's my sophist position: its not about finding the best team (defined as the players / coaches / system participating on the field), its about determining the best program (which, in addition to everything on the field, includes everything it takes to get those players, coaches, and systems to the field of play). Building a championship program includes acquiring resources. Teams in the SEC have an incredible, ridiculous, borderline criminal advantage when it comes to signing day. Given this huge recruiting discrepancy, I don't pity Georgia's schedule. I find it more remarkable that Jim Tressel can lure kids away from the state of Florida to the middle of the midwest. While Ohio State might not be the greatest collection of individuals every season, it does represent an amazing program- able to recruit significant talent every year. Programs such as USC represent the best programs because they are able to recruit more of the talent available to them. Yes, this is a slippery slope. And no, I don't think an undefeated Bowling Green team should play in the national championship. Yes, I'm o.k. with having a national championship determined by "gray" matter, things that cannot be reduced to simple black and white (or, in more cliche terms, "on the field of play"). But, then again I'm a rhetorician. And...
As a rhetorician, I'm not ultimately interested in the absolute truth of any one champion, I'm more interested in the debate that inevitably surrounds the final verdict. College football provides more debate than any other sport- which is probably why I find myself interested in it more and more each year.
These things have been bugging me the past few weeks:
1. Kevin Garnett Shooting Jump Shots. Before I saw him play regularly, I used to think that Garnett was a better player than Tim Duncan. My argument went, if you surrounded Garnett with the talent Duncan worked with, he'd have just as many rings. Well, 12 playoff games later I'm ready to amend this thought. While Garnett is a much better defensive player, I think his lack of college experience hurt his offensive development. He just doesn't play like the physically imposing player he could be. When Duncan gets the ball in the post, he's going to the rim. Garnett is happy to settle for a fade away, or he'll pass it out of the post. Take the ball to the damn hoop. Seriously. Argh.
2. Complaints Regarding Manny's High Five. If I hear one more sports journalist / media personality complain about how all athletes are overpaid and greedy and then bash Ramirez for actually having fun and playing the game like a game I'm going to go something something. Manny enjoys baseball. I enjoy watching Manny play baseball. He among the three best righthanded hitters of his generation (Pujols, A-Rod), and the three of them likely comprise the three best righthanders ever playing together at one time. Is he a space cadet? Yeah, a little. But in an age of self-importance and self-promotion, many is a breathe of fresh air.
3. Obsessive Coverage of 'Spygate'. O.k., I'll probably be a bit of a homer here. But anyone who thinks the Patriots are the only team in professional football to utilize videotape beyond the written letter of the rules: you are crazy. I am not suggesting that every coach uses tape- I would bet 100$ that straight arrow Tony Dungy has never taped a TV program for fear he might be breaking copyright law. The reason Goddell and the NFL wants this to go away: they don't want the equivalent of a steroid controversy haunting their sport. Spying has been a part of football since the early 60's, when Hank Stram thought every team was sending agents to observe practices. Don't get me wrong: spying is against the rules, the Pats deserved to be punished. But please don't insinuate that the Pats are the only ones abusing the film room.
4. NCAA rules against playoff but adds two additional bowl games combined with OJ Mayo takes money. Maybe OJ didn't take money (innocent until proven guilty), but he should have. If the NCAA and USC are marketing Mayo to get more money, then he should be getting paid. Millions? No. But players should be able to accept up to 40,000 dollars (completely arbitrary number) from third parties every year. I am not suggesting teams or the NCAA pay athletes. But holding to the mantra of strict amateurism amounts to an unfair indentured service in an age when schools are using their athletic programs to build dorms, labs, and parking garages. Again: if the teams and league makes profit from the players, then the players should be able to make profit from the players. On a related point: wtf. wtf. wtf. Just give us one more bowl game. It will not diminish the ratings or prestige of the other bowls. Take the five top bowls- make one of them the "championship game." I realize that games are stretched out one a night to increase ratings. Fine. Start them a bit earlier, play two on one night, and you can have your championship game without adding an extra time to the schedule.
So this obnoxious sports writer, Kevin Hench of Fox Sports, writes a weekly Hit List in which he takes shots at athletes swirling the drain. This past week, he made disparaging comments on Tampa Bay Ray's outfielder Rocco Baldelli, essentially arguing that Baldelli was faking an injury and was wasting his talent. Except Hench must have missed the press conference in which Baldelli explains that he has a as-of-yet unidentified life threatening illness that might end his career.
Well, a few Baldelli fans told Hench to go fuck himself. Then they sent the story to FireJoeMorgan.com, a site dedicated to exposing terrible sports journalism. Let me rephrase: an extremely popular site dedicated to exposing terrible sports journalism. So then a lot of FJM's readers went to the Fox Sports site and proceeded to tell Hench what a douche-bag he is. Some of us... er... them, went as far as to create accounts so we could post our complaints (which probably ensures that Fox won't fire Hench, since he's driving up the traffic). Still, there's nothing quite like a bunch of people coming together to tell some loud mouth asshole that he is, undoubtedly, a loud mouth asshole. Here's my favorite comments:
Hey, everybody needs to step back and appreciate what Hench has done here. It is very rare that every single comment says the same thing...usually there is one comment that says everyone needs to get a sense of humor; but luckily this is such a piece of BLEEP that it is unanimous that Hench is an BLEEP -clown. For that I say, thank you Hench for being so moronic.
And:
Nice article, Hench. I'd love to read your takes on Andres Galarraga's "cancer" and Mario Lemieux's "non-Hodgkins lymphoma." You are either incredibly insensitive or plain uninformed and are therefore either a d-bag or a hack
For the past few years I've been arguing that the steroids controversy in baseball is about much more that the purity of sport- it touches the incredible transformations medical science will bring to biology. It is about our relationship to our bodies. We might go as far as to call it the next great imperialization, as we move "in."
Sports Illustrated has a story this week on Dr. Se-Jin Lee- a professor of molecular biology and genetics- who has isolated the genes regulating muscle generation. The slant of the story, of course, is how such procedures could further exacerbate problems with performance enhancement in professional sports; but this misses the larger point. From the article:
Lee is pushing the frontier of genetic research into muscle building because the same breakthroughs that could boost performance in sports might also bring about a medical revolution. Advances could not only mitigate the effects of diseases like muscular dystrophy but also give senior citizens back their strength--which, often, would amount to giving them back their lives.
And:
Thanks to the Human Genome Project, someday all of us could carry our entire genetic blueprint on a microchip, which we'd present to doctors during medical treatments.
To be honest, I have mixed feelings about this article and the broader issue. Though I try to take care of my body (working out, Edy's slow-churned, etc.), I've never considered my body sanctimoniously. If it didn't work, and I could "replace" it, no problem. I've also always been sympathetic to Cipher from the Matrix- I'll take a nice, virtual existence over a shitty "real" world everyday of the week. No hesitation. Hey, its all virtual anyway.
I think what this story touches upon, the reason I felt compelled to post something, is that is signals the approach of the debate that will frame the early 21st century in terms of science, ethics, and humanity. If the atomic bomb was the symbol of the 20th century, then, perhaps, the microscopic gene will be the symbol of the 21st. We will have to articulate, and in that articulation limit, what a human should, and perhaps, will be (or be able to become). I sit somewhere in between the silent poles of the article: between an idealistic appreciation (and, as I approach 32, expectation) for the future and an apocalyptic sense of foreboding - a feeling that we tread in areas we are not ready to go. Throughout history, humans haven't always been the most responsible explorers.
To everyone who asked... yes I am still alive. The job search is nearing a close, but it looks like I'll have to make some pretty tough decisions before this is all over. I don't want to blog about it until its all over, so here's some other quick and random thoughts:
As a baseball fan and a rhetorician, I feel compelled to write something on the Mitchell report. But since I'm in the midst of grading, and my baby's making that "you better be ready to pick me up" face, I'll keep this brief.
The media has consistently framed the Mitchell report as a sign of Bud Selig's complicity in the steroids era. Selig, thinking of his legacy, needs a public display that says "I cleaned up the steroids problem." He is worried, this argument goes, that he will be remembered as the commish who turned a blind eye. This very well might be true.
But I would argue that the obsessive media coverage of steroids and baseball is also significant. It represents the media's guilt over the summer of 1998. I was a cynical and sophomoric 22 that summer and remember looking at McGwire and Sosa and thinking one thing: "juice." I do not believe anyone educated enough to write for a newspaper or work for a television station could look at those players and not suspect that there was something non-natural going on. Especially people who have access to locker rooms. Especially people who could see the bottles of Andro. I know 1998 was way back before Google--but I'm pretty sure professional reporters could talk to doctors. The obsessive media coverage of performance enhancing substances is an implicit acknowledgment of culpability. They know they should have acted on what we all suspect. Their claims that "we didn't have subpoena power" is hollow and shameful. And they know it. So now the witches are contributing to the hunt.
I don't mean to come off as some superior know-it-all. I knew they were using drugs and didn't care. If a professional athlete is willing to risk health and future to smash a ball 400 feet, awesome. 500 feet? Even better. See-- I told you it was cynical and sophomoric. Only one thing makes me care about the issue now, pathetic as it is (and I mean that in the most rhetorical of senses): the children. A trickle-down economics goes something like this: if I want to make the majors, I got to make the minors, if I want to make the minors, I have to get the scholarship, if I want to get the scholarship, I have to start, if I want to start, I have to make the team, if I want to make the team, I have to play AAU, etc. At the end of the chain? Steroids. I have a 12 year old nephew who plays baseball, and he's already aware of teammates using performance enhancing drugs.
But I won't buy into the excessive hype over the history of baseball. I laugh when people ask "how do we compare Barry Bonds to Hank Aaron and Babe Ruth?" A better question would be: how do you compare Hank Aaron to Babe Ruth? Consider:
There's probably more changes that I just can't think of right now. My point is that there are so many changes in the history of baseball that we choose to ignore: steroids is just the line in the sand. I feel that history will view the steroids phenomenon as the first public foray into the ethics of cybernetic enhancement- the first time that science threatens to greatly impact the composition of a human being. It will not be the last.
I don't have much time for these this year, but it wouldn't feel right if I didn't make some predictions. So here's a quick couple of lists:
AFC Championship Game: Chargers beat the Patriots, 24-21. Ouch.
NFC Championship Game: No freaking idea. I kinda want to pick the Vikings, even though I don't think their current QB can take them to the playoffs. So, how about this: 49'ers beat the Cowboys, 20-14. Yup, whatever.
Superbowl: the Chargers decimate whoever wins the AFL, mean NFC, championship game, 33-10.
That is, of course, unless the Vikings sign Leftwich. Then, all bets are off... (God, I love the NFL)
I had two drafts this weekend (I drafted one player while changing a diaper). I am quite happy with both teams, although the second team has a collection of gambles at quaterback. Here's team one:
Strengths:
Gore is about as real deal as any runningback in the league. Although the loss of Norv Turner might hurt the offense, Gore showed last season that he's an Eric Dickerson / Eddie George kind of running back who is going to run through the NFL for a few seasons. I feel confident that McNabb will return to fantasy greatness. He was the top quarterback in the league (not Manning) when he went down last year. Boldin and Evans are top WRs. The Ravens are the Ravens (I caught some flack for drafting a defense too early, but in yardage leagues, defense is often the top scoring position-- since defenses can gain up to 30 points and lose up to 10. The Bears and the Ravens are tremendously better than any other fantasy D).
Weaknesses:
Me thinks I gambled a bit too much with my bench. Save the Vikings D, every pick comes with serious question marks. Bell could be the top fantasy scorer in the NFC. Or he could ride the bench all season. Edwards could be an 80-1,000-8 man or he could be 60-660-4. LJ Smith could make the Pro Bowl, or he could lose his starting job. Jennings could repeat last year, or fall as far as 4th on the depth chart. Dunn and Welker are steady players, but certainly not stars.
Final Thought:
Every fantasy coach says this: I have to stay healthy. But I really mean it. This team has extremely questionable depth. If I stay healthy, I expect to make the championship game. But I don't expect to stay healthy. So, while I like this team on paper, I'm probably going to hate them on Sunday. Prediction: one game over .500.
Strengths
Parker and Johnson might not be the first names you think of at runningback, but they are extremely consistent, featured backs, and haven't seen the trainers table. Ronnie Brown is a lot better than people give him credit--I stole him late in this draft. The Dolphins should be better with Trent Green, and that should prevent Brown from seeing 8 man fronts every carry. I figure hes going for 1,300 and 9 TDs. Not Great, but not shabby. It should be illegal to have WRs this good--but that's what has helped me win this league the past two years: I think people backed off of Driver because of his injury, but reports yesterday morning were that he should be fine. The initial reports (which caused me to draft Jennings in the league above) were exagerrated. Ward will be better than last season for three reasons: 1) his quarterback isn't recovering from head trauma, 2) Santonio Holmes will draw attention from opposing secondaries, 3) he is a work-horse and will do everything possible to shove his down year down the throats of every commentator who has labelled him as past his prime. Reggie Brown should benefit from the departure of Stallworth, especially as Curtis learns the complex Eagles passing game. Ravens D = incredible. Rackers fell down the K board because he missed 7 field goals last season. Wake up people, 5 of those were from greater than 50 yards. He's a big leg guy, you don't lose points for long field goal misses, and the Cards cannot run in the red zone. Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.
Weaknesses:
What the fuck was I thinking. Let me re-phrase that: I believe I might have gambled a bit too much at the quarterback position. Thing is, I had Peyton last year, and Donovan the year before that, so I think I forgot how frustrating 2005 was, when I had an inconsistent Hasselback and Collins. This year, Hasselback might feel like Peyton Manning by week eight!
Final Thought:
I think I can three-peat, despite the QB situation (which might not be as bad as I think). Losman was outstanding the last six weeks of last season, Leinhart plays in a big yards but few TDs offense right now (which could see more TD's thanks to new coach Wiz), and Martz rarely disappoints (Kitna was fairly solid last season). Give how steady this running tandem is, and how incredible my WR are, I like my chances. For now...
