Sports | Bryan Joiner

November 19, 2007

A-Rod Wins MVP In One Hour

This is wrong. The Globe’s Jason Tuohey makes a case for David Ortiz as AL MVP over A-Rod, who will certainly win it when the results are announced at 2 p.m. But it’s plain wrong. Ortiz certainly had a better year than most people thought, and possibly his best year ever, but that has nothing to do with Alex Rodriguez, who also possibly had his best year ever. There’s a dynamic here similar to Brady/Manning, in that critics see A-Rod and Ortiz as complementary players. If one is undervalued, then the other must be overvalued. Of course, it’s ludicrous, just as it is for people to think that whatever Tom Brady does reflects on Peyton Manning. David Ortiz is a great player but A-Rod was a little bit better.

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November 16, 2007

The Week In Quotes – Barry Bonds edition

Yesterday in San Francisco, the best hitter in baseball history was indicted on four counts of perjury and one count of obstruction of justice, and if convicted, will face up to 30 years in prison. The charges are unsurprising. They’re also absurd.

— Tim Marchman’s take in the New York Sun

In the absence of a tape-recorded, cartoon villain speech from Bonds proving that he knew he was taking steroids and growth hormone, it is going to be very difficult to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that Bonds knowingly took drugs.

— Marchman

So Bonds is in a lot of trouble?
Maybe, but maybe not.

— Sports law expert Michael McCann breaks down the indictment on cnnsi.com

My first reaction is that this is a travesty, and has been for years. For someone to be investigated for this long for something so unimportant is a disgrace… This is an abuse of power, a shameless personal attack of Barry Bonds.

This is not a good day for baseball, it’s not a good day for anyone involved, really.

— The “Only Baseball Matters” blog

Never mind the debate over sticking an asterisk on the ball in the Hall of Fame. Baseball has no business putting an asterisk on Barry Bonds. The asterisk belongs on Major League Baseball, for allowing the players union to bully it into avoiding testing and penalties.

Our “friend” George Vecsey’s spot-on take in the Times

I’m high up on the line you can get behind me
But my head’s so big you can’t sit behind me
Life of a don
Lights keep glowin’
Comin’ in the club with that fresh sh#t on
With somethin crazy on my arm
Uh-uh-uh
And here’s another hit, Barry Bonds

— Kanye West, “Barry Bonds”

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November 14, 2007

A-Rod May Talk To The Yankees

So Alex Rodriguez now wants to talk to the Yankees without Scott Boras. Interesting. I wonder how that would go…

A-Rod whips a folded piece of paper out of his suit pocket and opens it. The paper is an email printout from Brian Cashman, telling him to go to the third floor of Yankee Stadium, room 310, at 1:30 p.m. A-Rod gets into the elevator, checks his hair in the mirror and takes a deep breath. The elevator rises. Three stories up, the doors open. He steps out. He stands there for second. Is he ready for this? He’d better be. This is a job interview, and he can’t be late. As it is, he only has a minute. Is room 310 to the left or right? He looks at the signs on the wall. It’s on the left.

He pauses after he takes one step and takes a deep breath. As he does this, someone rounds the corner and heads for the elevator. It is a man who is walking with the casualness of someone who travels these halls for a living. The man studies A-Rod’s suit, tie, and briefcase and knows why he’s here. Alex smiles politely and knowingly and begins walking away from the elevator, trying to hide his nerves. He already feels like a fool. He comes to the end of the hallway and takes another left, which, in three seconds, he realizes is wrong. He turns around, red-faced, and passes three occupied open-doored offices before coming to room 310. It is 1:31. His appointment was at 1:30. He is late.

He knocks on the door.

There is no answer.

Brian Cashman (inside): Should I get the… ?
Hank Steinbrenner (in whisper): Shhhhhhh!
Cashman (quietly): But I thought…
Hank: Let’s make him wait.

A-Rod knocks again. There is no answer.

Cashman: Hank, do you really want to… ?
Hank: Brian, SHUT UP.

A-Rod thinks he has the room number, or the wrong floor. Embarrassed, he goes back to the elevator well. His printout said to go to the third floor, but those were merely directions to the Legends Field offices. Had the email said something different? The fourth floor, maybe? He isn’t sure. All he knows is that, feeling a slight change of heart, he had emailed the Yankees behind Scott Boras’ back, and this was wrong on so many levels, and now he was lost inside Yankee Stadium just like he was lost on the outside… and so embarrassed, too…

He goes to press the button for the elevator and thinks better of it just as his thumb depresses the up arrow. It illuminates. He takes out his cell phone, which should still have Brian Cashman’s number in it, and is searching his address book when the elevator doors open. There are three people inside, and they look at him. He stammers something like ‘No, I’m good,’ and they look confused and chuckle to themselves. He tries to take it in stride, but he is breaking.

He dials Brian Cashman’s number. He thinks he can hear a phone ringing somewhere in the distance, but he can’t be sure.

Hank: Shut that damn thing off!
Cashman (turns off ringer): Sure thing, but shouldn’t we… ?
Hank: I’ll decide what we’ll do and when we’ll do it.
Cashman: Okay, sure thing. You’re the…
Hank (expectantly): … the what? Say it.
Cashman: You’re the… boss.
George Steinbrenner (on speakerphone): I heard that!
Hank: Heard what?
George: I don’t… remember. I…
Hank: It’s okay dad. He didn’t say anything.
Cashman: It’s okay, Mr. Steinbrenner.
Hank (mouthing): “I’m Mr. Steinbrenner now.”
Cashman: [gulps]
Hank: Give me that phone.

Hank takes out the phone and called A-Rod.

A-Rod: Brian?
Hank: Is this you, Alex? You are late.
A-Rod: Brian?
Hank: This is Hank Steinbrenner, Alex. Hello.
A-Rod: Hello, ah, Hank.
Hank: Hank, Alex?
A-Rod: Yes, Hank. Oh, I’m sorry, I meant Mr., ah…
Hank: Yes, Alex?
A-Rod: Mr., ah…
Hank: Yes, Alex?
A-Rod: Mr. ah… Steinbrenner?
Hank: Yes, Alex.
A-Rod: Oh, ah… thank you, Mr. Steinbrenner.
Hank: You are welcome, Alex. Why are you late?
A-Rod: Sorry, I got confused about the, um, floor. What floor are you on?
Hank: We are on the third floor, Alex.
A-Rod: Okay, what room?
Hank: Room 310, Alex.
A-Rod: Really? Because I was just, ah, there… I knocked on the door.
Hank: I can assure you that you did not, Alex. We have been here the whole time.
A-Rod:A Yeah, okay, it must have been my mistake. I’ll be there in one second.
Hank: Thank you, Alex.

A-Rod walks back down the hall, back to room 310 and knocks on the door. Brian Cashman quickly opens it. He has gotten up from one of two chairs facing Hank Steinbrenner, who sitting with his back to a large window looking upon Legends Field. It appears there are still Halloween decorations along the field: there is a mummy hanging from the backstop. Cashman, per usual, looks like he has not slept for days, but he is even worse now. Steinbrenner is sitting back in his chair, smiling. There is a phone on the table, and there is an illuminated light on the phone. Along the wall there are approximately 30 identical stuffed black garbage bags.

Hank: Hello, Alex.
A-Rod (nervously): Hello, Mr. Steinbrenner.
George: Who is that?
Hank: It is Alex Rodriguez, dad.
George: Who?
A-Rod (toward phone): HELLO, MR. STEINBRENNER. HOW ARE YOU FEELING?
George: Son, is he there?
Hank (coyly): Yes, father.
George (in firm, entirely changed tone of voice): Please sit down, Alex.
A-Rod: Mr. Steinbrenner! You’re okay!
George: Yes, Alex. Now sit down.
Hank: Wait… not just yet. Remember what we talked about, dad?
George: Yes, son. I nearly forgot.
Hank: Alex, you have demeaned this organization. And for that you must be punished.
A-Rod: I… uh…
Hank: You must wear this.

Hank pulls out a crude dunce cap emblazoned with the words “i like the red socks”

Hank: Put this on.
A-Rod: Um… okay.

He puts on the cap.

A-Rod: Should I… uh… sit?
Hank: No, Alex, you should not. Not only do you have the gall to spurn our offers, and not only do you show up late, you have the gall to wear that hat inside my office. And for that reason you should not sit.
A-Rod: But you just gave it to me…
Hank: Alex, Alex. It is useless to resist. You shall stand. Now tell me why you are here.
A-Rod: I just… um… I just…
Hank: Speak, Alex… It is time.
A-Rod: (sniff)
Hank: NOW, Alex!
A-Rod: (starts crying) I WANT TO COME BACK. I’M SORRY. SCOTT MADE ME DO IT. I DIDN’T WANT TO… I’LL PLAY FOR ANYTHING I SWEAR.
Hank: Scott made you do it, Alex?
A-Rod: (sniffs) Yes.
Hank: Are you sure about that, Alex?
A-Rod: (horrified) Wait… you didn’t… you didn’t talk to Scott, did you?
Hank: Why yes, Alex. We did.
A-Rod: This can’t be happening…
Hank: It was all your idea, Alex! It was all your idea! We know everything.
A-Rod: No!
Hank: And we are the only ones who know.
A-Rod: What… what happened to Scott.
Hank: (swivles in chair) That’s not a mummy out there, Alex!
A-Rod: Noooooooo…

Several seconds pass.

Hank: Have you composed yourself? Our final offer is this: nothing. Not even the fee for the contract notarizing, which would appreciate if you put up personally.
A-Rod: Wow, that sounds familiar.
Hank: It’s from The Godfather 2.
George: Wonderful film. Michael has his brother killed. Ruthless. I love it.
Hank: Yes.
George: Where is Hal, again?
Hank: Our work here is done, dad. You can go back to playing crazy again.
George: What?
Hank: Excellent.
A-Rod: One problem. The union will never let me play for free.
Hank: Good point. How about $27.5 million per year, 8 years? With two option years?
A-Rod: Like my old contract?
Hank: Exactly.
A-Rod: I’ll do it.
Hank: Alright, take four of these garbage bags and get the hell out of here.

A-Rod takes the bags and peers inside. They are full of money.

A-Rod: Thanks so, so much. You won’t regret this.
Hank: No Alex, we will not.

A-Rod turns to leave.

Hank: Oh, Alex. One more thing. Take off the cap.
A-Rod: That’s probably a good idea. (Takes off cap) Thanks, Boss.
George: What?
Hank: That’ll do dad. That’ll do.

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November 14, 2007

This seems a bit premature…

ESPN.com is already drawing a side-by-side comparison between this year’s Celtics and the 1995-96 Bulls.

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November 9, 2007

Weekend Reading

Last week, I wrote that I had purchased a book entitled The Thinking Fan’s Guide to the World Cup. I’ve read about 8 essays so far, and some of them are good. Two of them are really, really good. There’s an essay by Jake Silverstein about Ecuador’s team that is phenomenal, but the best piece of writing in there (so far) is Tim Adams’ piece on the Czech Republic, which was, wonderfully, published on Salon.com at the time of the book’s publishing. You can read it here.

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November 9, 2007

You Say You Want A Revolution…

Well, you know, we all want to rule the world. Revolution in the MLS Finals.

Here’s ESPN’s statistical rundown of the game:

I like soccer as much as the next guy who kind of likes soccer (okay, just the World Cup), but that graphic’s gotta go. And “awarded” a yellow card? I am fairly sure that’s inaccurate. Not just the terminology — it doesn’t sound like an award I want — but you do not actually receive the yellow card. Otherwise, young soccer thugs could line their rooms with them, like runner’s numbers from road races or other things people keep from sporting events (like tickets), and… yes, it’s Friday.

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November 8, 2007

C’s Keep Rolling

Not much to say here except that if you don’t miss shots, you’re probably going to win a lot of games. Garnett has been as-advertised, but I think this season is quickly shaping up to be a referendum on Paul Pierce: is he a good player, or is he a great one? I’ll admit that I was always in the former camp, but this year he’s going to get enough open looks to earn/re-earn his superstar reputation.

One thing bothers me, though: the notion that Pierce is the team’s captain. This seems to stem solely by virtue of his service to the organization. SI’s season preview described in detail how Pierce gained weight and was mentally checking out of games last year — those aren’t the actions of a team leader. I’m not dogging Pierce here. You can be ultra-competitive and a great player without being a team leader, and it’s not a diss to say so. Kobe would fall into the same camp. There aren’t that many team leaders out there, but the ones that are should be captains. Kevin Garnett is a team leader. He should be the captain in name if he already is so in spirit.

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November 8, 2007

Unifying the Belts

Here’s a month’s worth of Sports Illustrated covers. See if you can spot the pattern.

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November 2, 2007

The Week In Quotes/Weekend Reading

For us, the mountain was a challenge. For them, the mountain was a daily, unmysterious fact of life, pictured on their beer bottles and laundry detergent boxes.

– From Tom Bisell’s essay, “Up the Mountain Slowly, Very Slowly,” in The New York Times’ Play Magazine, a story about his ascent of Mount Kilimanjaro.

There were a lot of white people here. I had come to designate the places where the white outnumbered the black as North Face Africa, a place seen only in the Kilimanjaro International Airport, the better hotels and restaurants, and any other mountain-related holding station.

– Bissell

[H]is agent, Bill Duffy, had told me: “With Steve it’s all about the flow.” Flow, of course, being shorthand for that state of mind that artists and athletes strive to enter into, and which in full flood entails an ecstatic expansion of consciousness that releases them from confines of the self and produces crowning moments of creation and performance — not to get too mystical about it.

– Chip Brown, also in Play magazine, in his feature article on Steve Nash’s trip to Chin a

Baseball will stick it to you; it means to break your heart… old fans do understand that it’s losing, in all its variety, that makes winning so sweet…

– Roger Angell, inadvertently echoing my thoughts on the 2007 Red Sox in his farewell piece to Joe Torr e in The New Yorker

When calm at last arrived—when the brutal Savimbi was killed by government forces in 2002—people in the cities began cautiously to repaint their houses. A person who does not believe in tomorrow does not repaint his house.

– Henning Mankell, in the “Angola” chapter of a book I recently picked up, The Thinking Fan’s Guide to the World Cup

Listen, we’re not just a good team. We’re a great team. And don’t you fucking forget that. And let’s go play one game at a time and go prove that. Because let me tell you something… There’s a reason why you wear this Red Sox uniform… Because you’re a bad motherfucker.

– David Ortiz, as quoted in Sports Illustrated, to the Red Sox after game 3 of the ALCS

If any of you guys actually read these articles, could you let me know?

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November 2, 2007

Barry Bonds

My general take on modern sports — that the game is more important than the hoopla surrounding it — means that I have a rosier view of Barry Bonds’ achievements than the average fan. By now, it is axiomatic among all but the most delusional Bonds fans that he took steroids; the bigger question is, So What? That’s not something I want to debate right now (as I have actual work to do). Here is the news I want to talk about: Bonds said yesterday that if the Hall of Fame accepts his record-setting 756th home run ball after it has been branded with an asterisk (courtesy of fashion designer Mark Ecko, who bought the ball for $750,000), Bonds would refuse to participate Hall of Fame induction ceremonies in the event he is elected. He’s obviously trying to bully the Hall of Fame into not accepting the ball, the same way he has allegedly bullied everyone around him for years. I’m not interested in the latter, but I think that the Hall of Fame should accept the Bonds ball without hesitation and basically tell Bonds to fuck off.

It sounds like they’re doing as much. The Hall’s president, Dale Petrosky, said the museum would be “delighted” to have the ball. Bonds’s take: “You cannot give people the freedom, the right to alter history. You can’t do it. There’s no such thing as an asterisk in baseball.” Here’s where Bonds runs up against the the-game-is-the-thing ethos. Marking the ball with an asterisk does not alter history, the same way placing an asterisk next to Barry Bonds’ name in the record book does not alter history, should that happen. He has hit the most home runs ever, and that will not change until someone hits more. That’s the long and short of it. ESPN can run as many “Outside the Lines” specials as they want about the “legitimacy” of Bonds’ record, but, in the event that both teams are attempting to actually win the game (gambling scandals deserve to be excepted from the-game-is-the-thing rules, because the teams are not playing the same game), the only necessary legitimacy for the home run record is to be the guy who clubbed the most pitches over those walls.

For a long, long time, this seemed to be fine with Barry Bonds. He claimed that he just wanted to play baseball, and that the media bore a large responsibility for tarnishing his image. He was right about that. The stories of his outrageously bad attitude were salacious enough to overshadow his monumental accomplishments even before his late-career weight gain; he was hated before he ever saw the Cream or the Clear, however knowingly. But he can’t claim that the media’s twisting this one. He’s finally in a web of his own lies. When Matt Murphy caught his 756th home run, wearing a ketchup-stained Jose Reyes jersey, Bonds sent message through the media that he didn’t expect the ball back. Absolutely not. “I don’t want the ball. I never, ever believed that a home run ball belongs to a player,” he said. “He caught it, it’s his.” Now that Mark Ecko owns the ball, Bonds has backpedaled: it now belongs to “history,” he says, and marking it would be wrong. I think it’s quite obvious that he was right the first time, and the second thought was a burst of hot air. We have to pay attention to Bonds when he swings, but we don’t have to listen to him when he talks. If he doesn’t speak at the Hall of Fame induction, that would make things even easier. But as soon as Barry Bonds closes the book on his career, the hard part of his life starts, because we’ll have to judge him on Barry Bonds the person and not Barry Bonds the player. By the time his Hall of Fame induction rolls around, he may need all the friends he can get.

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Category: Sports