Hello, my name is Christopher and I’m a Red Sox fan. Which makes what I’m about to say so difficult.
I could not have written this five years ago. In October 2003, we Sox faithful had once again suffered another devastating defeat to our arch-rival and overall evil-doers, the New York Yankees. This time, the blow came from the bat of Aaron Boone in the American League Championship Series. Game Seven, extra innings, another loss to the Yankees, could things get any worse? Numbness ensued. Another crushing loss meant yet another year of ribbing from Yankee fans everywhere who were, and had always been, our daddies. However, five years, two World Series titles and one Ruthian exorcism later, Red Sox fans can put all that behind them and openly talk about the past, for it is now the Yankees who haven’t won in ages.
Growing up, I hated the Yankees. I hated absolutely everything about them. The pinstripes, the fans, Graig Nettles catching Yastrzemski’s foul pop-up in the 1978 playoff game, the endlessly, obnoxious Reggie chants, Yankee Stadium and of course the Boss, George Steinbrenner. He is the Yankees epitomized. His tirades were legendary, his temper that of a scorned Latin lover. His passion for the game and his desire, if not need, to win were unrivaled. Indirectly, he made me a better fan, for he made me care more about the Red Sox, and beating the Yankees.
Steinbrenner bought the Yankees in 1973 for $10 million, not a bad investment. Before finally settling on Joe Torre in 1996, Steinbrenner hired and fired over twenty managers. That’s nearly one a year, folks. Several of them he recycled including Billy Martin, Gene Michael and Bob Lemon. The Yankee skipper post saw more traffic than a New York subway turnstile.
Seeing Steinbrenner manage from afar, one would guess him to be the type of boss that struck fear into the hearts of his employees, the kind of man you avoided as you walked down the hallway for fear of saying the wrong thing in passing. Mark Cuban could never be him, too obnoxious. Dan Snyder could never be him, too sniveling. Ted Turner could never be him, too Jane Fonda. Only Jerry Jones might be able to hold a candle, but still… no. Not even close. George was one of a kind. Oliver Platt did an outstanding job playing the fiery Steinbrenner in the mini-series “The Bronx Is Burning,” but even he would admit he couldn’t do George justice.
After tallying several World Series titles between 1996 and 2000, we slowly began to see a kinder, gentler Steinbrenner. It was even rumored that he enjoyed the Seinfeld parodies of his character. I guess winning 125 games in a season can put a smile on anyone’s face. The enlightened Steinbrenner was, dare I say, likeable. His charitable contributions in his home town of Tampa Bay are too numerous to mention.
Seeing the ailing Steinbrenner driven around in a golf cart in last week’s All-Star Game, the last to be played in Yankee Stadium, touched even this Red Sox fan. It served as a reminder of how fragile life is. Yankee legends from Berra to Jeter all approached him, hugging him and paying their respects, as they should have. After all, he’s the boss.
Steinbrenner is a figure you never imagined would grow old, never one you’d see in a weakened state. As Steinbrenner, 78, entered the stadium from centerfield Tuesday night, the crowd cheered loudly and appreciatively as he waved back. Yankee Stadium may very well be the House that Ruth Built, but it’s the House that George Flipped.
The bottom line is George Steinbrenner pulled the Red Sox fan out of me, made me care about the game more. He may very well be the most hated Yankee ever. Bucky Dent and Don Mattingly, Chris Chambliss and Dave Righetti all came and went, but big George was a mainstay, ultimately orchestrating every Yankee move. His shrewd ownership and heavy handed decision-making made the Yankees perfectly hate-able. In fact, hate isn’t a strong enough word. But we felt that way because they were the best, and to be the best, you had to beat the best, which we could never do. Steinbrenner was no camera hog, he just wanted to win, wanted what was best or his team. For this, I salute him. While most Red Sox fans would likely not be able to pick the Yawkeys out of a lineup, everyone knew Steinbrenner. The Yankees won six World Series under his ownership and were ALWAYS competitive. He saw to that.
Due to his declining health, George has relinquished control of his franchise to his son, Hank, who can only hope to follow in his father’s footsteps, for they are big bossy shoes to fill. As a Red Sox fan, I can only hope Hank fails miserably. But in doing so, I must acknowledge the kind of man George Steinbrenner is and the sports fan he ultimately made out of me.
Sure we may be witnessing the end of an era with this final season in Yankee Stadium, but George was just as much of a Big Apple icon, far more responsible for Yankee success than any storied ghosts. For that reason, Yankee, Red Sox and baseball fans nationwide owe him a debt of gratitude.
Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree as, Hank Steinbrenner, the newly appointed leader of one of the Big Apple’s most famous institutions is following in his father’s footsteps. In the midst of baseball’s current baseball steroids scandal, which prominently figures two of New York’s most famous pitchers, Steinbrenner has publicly questioned why his sport is being singled out by these investigations and why more attention isn’t being paid to the NFL.
Steinbrenner recently got off this ingenius quote. "I don't like baseball being singled out…. Everybody that knows sports knows football is tailor-made for performance-enhancing drugs. I don't know how they managed to skate by. It irritates me. Don't tell me it's not more prevalent. The number in football is at least twice as many. Look at the speed and size of those players." An NFL spokesperson quickly responded that the NFL began random testing for steroids in 1990.
Twice as many?? Does that mean if 75% of major league baseball players were on the juice in the 1990s, that 150% of the NFL was also? Hank, it wasn’t the NFL that turned a blind eye to its rampant, drug problem for the sake of self-promotion. Anyone that knows sports knows THAT!
Now with all this slander love that’s floating around between Roger Clemens and Brian McNamee, can’t the NFL get a little action on this? One would think with allegations like that, the NFL could soon OWN the Yankee franchise. Perhaps Baby Steinbrenner isn’t aware that the National Football League has consistently had one of professional sports’ most strenuous drug-testing policies around. The league is also far more consistent in penalizing its players for such violations, which is more that can be said for major league baseball. Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds are currently being persecuted and having their legacies tarnished while others mentioned in a thoroughly incomplete Mitchell report are not being penalized at all??? How’s that for consistency and self-regulation.
Yes, the NFL’s players are generally larger in stature than those who play major league baseball; the sport calls for it. Perhaps if these mammoths of men sported pot-bellies instead of bulging biceps, they could have tried out for their college baseball teams. Instead these athletes opted for the NFL because… it’s a better league and a far more, exciting product.
So Hank, perhaps you should take a lesson from your father, who has mellowed out considerably over the years. Growing up a Red Sox fan, as much as I hated King George, the respect he demands in baseball is undeniable. At least we now have a new Steinbrenner to hate. In the future, try thinking before you speak. Oh, and don’t be surprised if you soon hear back from those ‘juiced up’ football players who you unwisely accused of wrongdoing. I hope that works out for ya’.
New York sports fans are currently reeling. In the wake of the MSG scandal, the Knicks show limited promise. The Jets mediocrity continues. The Giants, while successful, are one poor Eli Manning performance away from turning their back yet again on their top draft pick. The Mets late-season collapse is now epic. The Yankees’ one-year offer to Joe Torre was summarily refused. And to top things off, their arch-nemesis, the Boston Red Sox now make their second World Series appearance in four years.
The Joe Torre dilemma leaves the New York Yankees in sticky situation. While possible successors Joe Girardi or Don Mattingly may make able-bodied substitutes, Yankee fans are at the very least somewhat timid about the possibility of life without Torre, particularly when that future is paired with the continued success of the Red Sox and George Steinbrenner handing over the franchise to his offspring.
Over the past twelve years, Joe Torre established an undeniably strong bond with his players and enjoyed unrivaled, modern success. Countless veterans continued to support him in the wake of the Yankees’ loss to Cleveland and his subsequent, lame duck status. Several free agents said their future in pinstripes would hinge upon whether Torre was resigned. That included Mariano Rivera, for about fourteen days.
Hypocrisy in the sports world is nothing new. Regularly people talk out one side of their mouth then when conditions or circumstances change, will quickly change their tune. Consider Mariano Rivera’s latest flip-flop yet another example of an athlete covering his own.
On October 10, USA Today released an article entitled “Rivera: Torre’s status will affect my future” in which Rivera openly backed his soon-to-be former manager. When Rivera was asked whether Torre’s future with the organization would affect his impending free agency, Rivera replied “It might do a lot of it. I’ve been with Joe for so many years, and the kind of person he has been for me and my teammates has been great.” While Rivera openly stated he would test the free agent waters, his support for Torre was unwavering.
Fast forward two weeks. Today, Rivera told reporters “I don’t think (Torre leaving) has (anything to do) with me, in terms of signing with the Yankees.”
Did I miss something? Was this simply Rivera trying to initially stand by his man then look out for himself when that plan fell through? Did Rivera suddenly come to his senses? Did his agent forewarn him? Was this all a misunderstanding? Were Rivera’s words misconstrued? Was there a language barrier? Is this another example of the New York, and national, media trying to find something where there’s nothing?
Rivera is no longer the dominant closer of recent years. With a limitless bankroll, it seems unlikely the Steinbrenner clan will offer him a long-term deal. Is it possible his early, undying support for Torre endangered his future in the Bronx? Time will tell. But one thing is for certain. Every so often, it sure would be nice to hear an athlete stick to his guns.
I’m a man who likes options. Variety is the ####e of life, I say. Sometimes I like steak for dinner, sometimes I prefer fish. Often I’m in the mood for a comedy, other times it’s a drama or action film.
The same can be said for my sports interests. Sometimes I like a fast-paced, up-tempo game. At other times, I can really sink my teeth into a good, defensive struggle.
That is why keeping the designated hitter in the American League is the right thing to do. Sports is (supposed to be) about the fans and the DH gives fans an option. Those who prefer more high-powered offense can tune in to watch the Red Sox, Yankees, Angels or Detroit. Those who prefer the old school, senior circuit way of manufacturing runs can opt for the National League.
To be perfectly honest, I grew up an American League guy. I’d rather watch paint dry than have to watch most National League pitchers hit. Half the time it looks like they’re batting from the wrong side of the plate! To me, it’s a lull in the game. Call me crazy, but watching Brandon Webb bat .088 is not my idea o####ood time. Sure, it’s impressive when the better hitting pitchers take the mound and still bat for average. But Babe Ruth was an anomaly. For the most part, pitchers are horrific batters.
Eons ago, when I played high school baseball, coaches separated the pitchers from the rest of the team at the beginning of the season. We never saw those guys unless they faced us on the mound. Pitchers practiced separately, had different stretches and workout routines, and rarely, if ever, took batting practice. That’s because their position requires highly specified skills, one of which is NOT being relied upon for offense. Pitchers don’t play every day like offensive players, so it’s much more difficult for them put the bat on the ball with regularity, never mind be relied upon for the occasional RBI. To give you an example, Carlos Zambrano leads the NL with 19 hits in 33 games.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t condone designated hitters being unable to play a defensive position. That puts their team at a disadvantage. For example, if David Ortiz could not play a lick of first base, Terry Francona’s options would be severely limited. Growing up a Red Sox fan, Boston had Dwight Evans, Fred Lynn, Jim Rice and Carl Yastrzemski. As a fan, I wanted to see all those guys in the lineup. One problem… there’s not four outfield positions in baseball.
Major League Baseball originally established the designated hitter in 1973 to cure then struggling American League offenses. The ‘position’ has been in existence ever since. Has it made a difference? Of course. The top five hitting teams in the majors this year are all in the American League. A.L. teams have consistently had higher team batting averages ever since the DH’s inception. But has it dramatically changed the game? Probably not. No true designated hitter has ever won the Most Valuable Player award, although David Ortiz recently came close. And the position has prolonged the careers of Hall of Fame caliber athletes, allowing fans to see more of Bernie Williams, George Brett, Edgar Martinez and Paul Molitor.
The DH debate really breaks down to whether, as a fan, you were raised following a National or American League team. National league fans chastise the designated hitter position, saying it’s not pure. Purists Shmurists! Barry Zito’s batting .140. How pure is that?
Sure, managing a National League ballgame generally requires more creativity, double switches, timely substitutions and decision-making. However, you can’t tell me that in inter-league play or the World Series, National League managers don’t salivate at the opportunity to plug an extra bat into the lineup.
I like scoring. I’m a Red Sox fan. I’m an American League guy. Don’t take a way my DH. Someone once said “baseball is a game of failure.” Why worsen matters by making me watch Ben Sheets hit .067?
National League fans, I’d like to leave you with a few questions and I want you to answer honestly. Do you really enjoy watching pitchers hit? Or are you just opposed to the DH because it’s not tradition? Early in the game, with runners in scoring position and two outs, wouldn’t you rather have a more reliable hitter come to the plate instead of watching your pitcher swing and miss?
Hey, I’m not saying the National League should add the DH. I’m just saying leave things the way they are. There’s nothing wrong with the two leagues being slightly different. I’ll take my David Ortiz, Jim Thome and Gary Sheffield and you can have your Ted Lilly’s .118 lifetime batting average. Enjoy the fireworks.
In this week's edition of He Said She Said, my colleague and I debate the topic of whether or not the fact that athletes cheat matters to the average sportsfan. Your comments and opinions, as always, are welcome.
Close your eyes and think back.
You’re nine years old. You’re playing Risk or cards or chess with a friend. He leaves the room for a minute and you are suddenly left alone with the opportunity to give yourself a distinct advantage by moving a piece, changing the roll of your dice or switching cards without him ever knowing. Something inside you tells you not to do so, that it’s wrong. You make the conscious decision not to cheat and you eventually win the game anyway.
It is ingrained in most of us at an early age that cheating is immoral. We are taught that breaking certain rules often has damaging repercussions. This is why we as sports fans openly disapprove of such behavior and treat the cheating athlete with such scrutiny and disdain.
Examples abound. Pete Rose, one of the finest and toughest competitors to ever play baseball remains outside the walls of Cooperstown for one reason. He cheated.
Last year, Shawne Merriman, one of the more likeable yet feared linebackers in the NFL, was suspended four games for illegal drug use. Despite still leading the league in sacks after seventeen games, many argued he should be left off the Pro Bowl roster. Why? He cheated.
Mark McGwire, who not long ago was widely cheered for reviving baseball with his chase of Roger Maris’ single-season home run record, was recently denied entry into the Hall of Fame. It is commonly debated whether he’ll even make it in. Similarly, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro and Jason Giambi, once considered shoo-ins for the Hall of Fame, are routinely vilified for one reason alone. They cheated.
Barry Bonds, arguably the greatest baseball player of all time is ridiculed, booed and taunted in every stadium save his own for one reason. It’s not because he’s inaccessible or short with the fans or media. It’s because we think he cheated.
Of course, aside from Giambi who’s openly admitted to using steroids and Palmeiro who failed a drug test, we still do not know for certain which players cheated despite the mounting evidence against them. Mere allegations of cheating are often enough to taint the common fan’s opinion of a star athlete. Like it or not, fair or not, we tend to hold our athletes, our heroes, to a higher standard. We put them on a pedestal. Despite Charles Barkley’s warnings to the contrary, we still treat our athletes as role models.
Fans care when their idols break the rules. We no longer need our sports leagues to police their own. We do a perfectly good job of doing that ourselves. We suspend athletes from our good graces, or sometimes worse in the cases of Rose and Bonds. College programs can lose scholarships or television revenue if they violate set rules for establishing contact with young athletes. Olympians are stripped of their medals. Cyclists are removed of their victories. Athletes deemed heroes one day, can become quickly condemned the next. We as fans reserve the right to pass judgement because, right or wrong, we as fans care.
We laud the Jeters and the Mannings and the Jordans of the world who excel without having to resort to cheating and we banish those that don’t play by the rules.
It may be unfair to hold the modern athlete to a higher standard than we hold ourselves. When they are caught cheating in any capacity, we talk about them, blog about them, disparage them for desecrating what we hold sacred, without once considering the pressures put upon them. Unfair? Perhaps. Hypocritical? Undoubtedly. But it’s a fact. Fans care when athletes cheat. Otherwise, Barry Bonds’ historical achievement would be applauded rather than denounced.
As I flip through the channels not even one full week after the NBA Finals have reached their anti-climactic conclusion, I’ve begun looking for some other quality source of entertainment. Sure, we have the upcoming NBA Draft and potential blockbuster off-season trades to analyze. But if I’m force fed one more reality, dancing, talent, cooking, tattoo and plastic surgery elimination tv show, I may very well cancel my cable altogether.
For those sports fan still scorned by the last baseball work stoppage, there’s absolutely nothing to watch until football season starts. My ESPNews marathons no longer have the same flair. Woe is me. I must consult my basketball jones, blogging brethren Hoffman, Mr Showtime and GR8UN54 to see how they’re coping in the off-season.
For me, the two weeks after basketball season ends have always been a difficult adjustment period. So for those who suffer the same summer doldrums, I thought I’d offer some suggestions to make these next few months fly by. Feel free to help me out, because like you, I’m impatiently counting down the days until September 1st.
1) Watch the WNBA (just joking)
2) Watch Major League Baseball (again… just joking)
3) Read a book
4) Satisfy your bloodlust by becoming a UFC fan
5) Monitor the inevitable off-season Kobe drama by posting a life-size timeline on your living room wall detailing negotiations between Bryant, Buss, Kupchak, Jackson and West (I know some of you have already done this)
6) Help Pac Man Jones open up his own strip club
7) Count down the days until ESPN airs their first full-length Terrell Owens interview
8) Blog to your little hearts content
9) Actually spend time with friends and family
10) Wonder if anyone other than the University of Florida will ever win another national championship in any major sport
11) Discover a newfound hatred for the New York Yankees
12) Hunt down Brady Anderson: the real key to the steroid scandal in major league baseball
At a local Lexington, Kentucky Dunkin’ Donuts, with local and national media abound, Roger Clemens made an announcement to make baseball fans nationwide (and by nationwide, I mean the metro New York area) rejoice about his comeback and current conditioning. Certain Foxbloggers astutely witnessed Bluegrass Lady, elegantly sipping latte in the background with her 2007-08 U.K. basketball media guide in hand.
“The arm feels good,” uttered Clemens, licking the frosting off his fingers after swallowing his fourth consecutive hot, fresh glazed. “I wish there were three of me. I really do.”
Many misunderstood this comment as intended to appease Astros, Yankees and Red Sox fans, but after today’s display, it appears clear Clemens was clearly referring to his somewhat diminished ability to finish off a dozen donuts at his usual Hall of Fame pace.
When questioned why Clemens opted for a third chocolate-covered crueler over the more popular, frosted jelly, Clemens explained “when it's all said and done at the end of the year, I'll tell you the exact reasons why I did what I did.”
Deciding on a foamy, fattening latte over an espresso, the Rocket mentioned such a stimulant might not let him effectively “handle the stress of a major league game.”
Clemens and the Yankee organization are targeting late May or early June for his return, but his minor league appearances along the way have been strategically scheduled around Krispy Kreme availability.
For those of you who failed to tune in to Thursday's 'low'light of Yankees' Hideki Matsui's fracturing his wrist in a diving effort to snare a short flyball, you missed a gruesome sight. For those of you who WERE unlucky enough to witness it, what was the first thing that went through your mind?
In the first inning of this week's rubber match between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox, Hideki Matsui attempted to catch a short Mark Loretta blooper to rightfield... only to find his left wrist snapped by an unyielding collision against the righttfield grass.
Yet, amazingly, with his wrist dangling violently from his arm, seemingly contained only by the pinstripes of his uniform, Matsui's first instinct was NOT to writhe in pain, but to grab the baseball that had eluded his glove and try to make the play at second base. However, national sportswriters and broadcasters have failed to mention this, citing only that the injury would cause Matsui to miss his next start, ending his consecutive games played streak at 518, the longest Yankee streak since Lou Gehrig.
Perhaps viewers and commentators should pay closer to attention to what truly matters: the fact that this athlete gave of his body, well-being and perhaps the remainder of his season in an effort to compete at the highest level. For this, I commend athletes like Matsui, who give of themselves for our entertainment and enjoyment at their own expense.
Turn-ons: Gator national championships ; Sushi; NBA Playoffs; A Tribe Called Quest; Women; Jack Daniels; Women who drink Jack Daniels; Women who drink Jack Daniels while eating sushi; Women who dream of more Gator national championships while eating sushi and drinking Jack Daniels during basketball season, The Red Zone Report
Turn-offs: Waking up early; The inevitable media coverage Bobby Bowden will get when he finally retires; Drama; Prejudice; Chicken liver; Work of any sort
