Well, helloooooo!

Man, what a crappy couple of weeks. Basically, I came down with a creeping crud head-cold/flu/allergies/plague combo platter that put me out of commission for ten days, and included a side dish of irony, because check it out: I had planned to go to Murfreesboro to present a paper on Pete Rose at a baseball conference. Neat, right? Except: sick, so I couldn’t go. Then I’d planned to go to Vegas for the annual TWoP summit the next weekend. Whee! But: still sick, so I couldn’t go. And guess who’s in Vegas last weekend, doing card-signings (in which, according to my spies, nobody is interested, to the point where even tumbleweeds gave him a ten-foot berth)?

Pete fucking Rose.

Yeah. The guy who got booted from baseball for gambling is in the gambling capital of America, engaging in the same activity that got him sent to jail for not declaring income. I have whatever the vegetarian version of the Avian Flu is — “Cauli-flu-er”? “Flu-dité”? Hell if I know — so I get stuck in crappy old Brooklyn while Ham Head is living it up at Caesar’s. Unbelievable.

But at least baseball is back, and one of my favorite things about a new baseball season is renewing my love-hate relationship with Bill Simmons’s columns on ESPN.com. I yaw back and forth all year between wanting to buy the guy a beer and wanting to stuff the guy into a beehive, and his Opening Day column did not disappoint in the schizo department. A few of the high- and lowlights follow; let’s start with his coverage of the Red Sox opener.

NESN leads off its telecast with a shot of Curt Schilling walking gingerly down the runway, looking like Ed Norton after the rape scene in “American History X.” Has he always walked like that? I think he has. Please tell me he has.

Oh, my. Which punchline to go with here: “Only since he turned 50”? “Only since they chopped out his ankle and stored it with the other saints’ relics”? “Maybe if he didn’t have half the Republican party up his ass”?

Hate.

By the way, the 2006 Sox have 12 new players, including four in today’s starting lineup:

1. Coco Crisp, CF
2. Mark Loretta, 2B
3. The Real 2005 A.L. MVP, DH

Oh, no, not really. …Really? We…actually have to do this? You couldn’t get over it between November and now? Couldn’t find a way to let it go?

Guess not. Okay, then: the MVP. If I recall correctly, the baseball blogosphere pretty much knew in the run-up to the announcement that it would probably come down to A-Rod and Ortiz, and I also recall a boatload of arguing about the issues there, to wit: who is more “clutch,” and whether a DH can properly win MVP when he doesn’t field a position. At the time, I felt — from a strictly impressionistic standpoint, which is pretty much always my standpoint on things baseball — that Ortiz would probably win, and I had zero problem with that, for a couple of reasons. First of all, the guy is a monster hitter who added tremendous value to his team.

Second of all, I think we can look at the term “valuable” in “most valuable player” and define it in two different ways: 1) how valuable is the player per se, in a vacuum, and 2) how valuable is the player to his team. My sense, again impressionistic, is that A-Rod is the better player per se for the 2005 season, because on top of having good hitting stats, he fields the hot corner, a position he had to learn to play, and he does it really well. Ortiz is a substandard first baseman, which is…pretty significant in the dubious-distinction department. But Ortiz, in my view, played a more crucial role to his team in 2005 than A-Rod did to his. If A-Rod had blown an elbow last year and missed six weeks, I think the Yanks could have maybe sewn something together. Without Papi in the lineup, though, I think the Red Sox would have had a much harder time.

But it’s just my opinion, which leads me to my third point: the MVP is, if I’m not mistaken, selected by baseball writers, which…let’s just say it gives it a different significance from an award voted on by players and managers. Not that baseball writers don’t know what they’re talking about, obviously, but it’s sort of similar to the Oscars in that the “industry” take on what’s deserving is maybe a bit different from what the fans saw all year, or what people who do it for a living (versus covering it) might think. It’s not a bad perspective, but it’s a perspective, is the point.

So, for me, whoever won, I’d have felt fine about it. It surprised me a little that Ortiz didn’t win; I think there’s maybe some bias against the DH, but on the other hand, if the writers voted according to the first criterion I mentioned and not the second, well, he’s a DH. That’s that. Until he fields a position, he’s not going to win that shit.

What does irritate me, several months later, is Sox fans who won’t let it drop — and it’s not just the Ortiz thing itself, or the insults to A-Rod, who, it’s true, is not easy to like. It’s the larger inability of Red Sox fans, at times, to resist clambering up on the cross about every little freakin’ thing that happens to the team. I suspect that that martyrdom is a hard habit to break, but…that’s the Cubs’ fans’ gig now, folks.

You know what, forgive me for generalizing about Red Sox fans; it’s really Simmons’s specific tendency to do this that I dislike.

11:06 — Starting for the Rangers: Free agent signing Kevin “I can’t believe somebody gave me five years!” Millwood. He’s pitching against Crisp, who replaces Judas Damon in center AND prompted the Sports Gal to ask two weeks ago, “Wait, Coco Crisp? That’s really his name? Who else did they sign, Count Chocula?”

I’ll get to the “Judas” thing in a moment; for now, see above. My main issue with this bit is that the Coco Crisp joke is hacky. You don’t get to complain a few paragraphs later about how rote baseball announcing is and still go to the Coco Crisp well. Weak.

But then he pulls me back in with his reasons to love the return of baseball…

(Other reasons: Fantasy baseball … every Sox-Yankee game … the thought of a half-asleep Grady Little relieving Derek Lowe three batters too late as a distraught Nomar looks on from first base … Mets fans getting overexcited about a team that looks great on paper and ends up underachieving … CC Sabathia somehow gaining weight as the season goes along … my buddy Sal randomly e-mailing me his first 10-team parlay that could win him $35,754 if all 10 teams come through … my dad pretending to be awake every time I call him after a late-inning Red Sox home run … announcers casually dropping phrases like “he’s got a big sinker” and “he’s not afraid to unleash the high hard one” … Joe Posnanski’s annual “My God, what did we do to deserve this?” column after the Royals start out 7-25 for the umpteenth straight season … and Tino Martinez’s hair in HDTV. That’s just the short list.)

I will tentatively disagree with him about the Mets this ye– wait, actually I don’t really know enough about the Mets this year to venture a considered opinion. But I have watched a few Mets games in the last few days, and I have to say, Keith Hernandez in the booth for SNY is a lot of fun. His Pure Baseball is a great book and he’s a pleasure to listen to.

I also enjoyed this:

By the way, on the list of “500 reasons that I’m NOT excited to have baseball back,” crummy home plate umpiring has to rank right up there. You could park a Hummer in Gary Darling’s strike zone today.

THANK YOU. The baseball season is less than a week old and I have already said “looked good to me” out loud at least three dozen times. MLB’s got bigger issues in front of it right now, but if it could maybe get around to putting an enforcement system in place and spot-checking it, I’d really love that. Belt-high is not “high.” These guys make millions, they can swing at a pitch in the strike zone. Gah.

11:19 — As Orsillo tells us that Roger Clemens visited both clubhouses today, we see a live shot of Roger in the stands. “They introduced him between innings,” Jerry adds. “He got a standing ovation from this crowd in Arlington.” As well as two middle fingers from me. Don’t forget those.

Or from me. Dickhead!

YES showed a clip of Clemens meeting and greeting, and the announcers talked about how he’s still deciding whether he’s going to play, and I sat there and growled at the TV, literally. Clemens is a great pitcher, but he’s…okay, he’s a giant asshole, and he’s a particular giant asshole. He’s your friend’s obnoxious husband who talks too loud and has to know fucking everything, including about your job, which isn’t even in his sector, so you go to dinner at their house and he’s all telling you some shit about your life and doing that bark laugh whenever he thinks you’ve said something quaintly stupid, which is practically every time you open your mouth, and he’s nice to your friend and seems to really love her, and it doesn’t seem to bother her that he’s That Guy, but he is, and he bugs you, and on top of that, in the cab on the way home it’s kind of quiet and your boyfriend isn’t saying much and finally you go, “…Okay what,” and he’s like, “You’ll do what you want but I’m not hanging out with that guy again, not negotiable,” so on top of That Guying it up and annoying you, now he’s put you in the position of making up lies about how your boyfriend can’t come to dinner seventeen times in a row because he’s “busy at work.” And he wears pale Levi’s 550s with his cell phone clipped to his belt in a leatherette holder. And he’s one of those guys who still talks about sushi with a lisp while making mincy faces.

Hate.

12:54 — Hey, is it a bad sign for the Lowell Era that Texas’ outfielders are moving up 10 steps for his ABs, almost like the token chick coming up during a company softball game? I say it is.

Well, I can’t say it’s a great sign for your writing that that’s the second casually tossed-off sexist diss of the column, Bill. If you don’t want to watch the women’s Final Four, don’t, but let’s see your ass hit for power in the church league before you start busting on the ladies. You talk to your wife with that mouth?

It’s just lazy writing, really. Find a way to get there that isn’t going to bug the feminists. You know how to do it, I’ve seen you.

This has all the makings of an emotionally scarring Keith Foulke blown save waiting to happen, followed by a 107-page Foulke thread on the Sons of Sam Horn site that ends up being locked because too many posters were swearing at each other.

…Exactly what I’m talking about with Simmons. I’m about to send him an email all “don’t be a dink” and he saves himself by tweaking SOSH — which is a great site, but which also typifies a tendency on the part of the baseball internet in general to get completely, hyperventilatingly hysterical based on a sample size of, like, four innings. “THEY NEED THIS WIN!” “IT’S APRIL!” “AIEEEEEE!” “GLARG!”

Torre didn’t bring in Rivera the other night, I knew the exact same thing was fixing to happen in the Bronx Banter comments field. And now that we don’t have Womack to kick around anymore…

Speaking of the Bronx, now we move on to Simmons’s coverage of the Yanks’ opener in Oakland.

Our announcers tonight: Michael Kay, Bobby Murcer and Ken Singleton on the Yes Network’s feed. Our lucky day. Kay kicks things off during a graphic showing tonight’s pitchers (Randy Johnson and Barry Zito) by breathlessly yelping, “It’s the kind of match-up you would see in Game 7 of the World Series!”

(Well, if two American League teams could play each other in the World Series. But whatever.)

…Yeah, okay. Kay’s not the biggest target in broadcasting or anything, but: “good one.”

New York’s starting lineup:

1. Judas, CF
2. Derek Jeter, SS
3. Alleged Roider Gary Sheffield, RF
4. Mr. March, Alex Rodriguez, SS
5. Roider Jason Giambi, 1B
6. Avid Porn Collector Hideki Matsui, LF
7. The Wuss, Jorge Posada, C
8. The Artist Formerly Known As Bernie Williams, DH
9. Robinson Cano, 2B.

Remind me, Bill: is Boston considered a small-market team that can’t afford a player like Damon? …Right, right, that’s what I thought. So…if Boston didn’t make Damon a decent offer, whose fault is that, again?

And could you just refresh me, because I’m a little fuzzy…how far exactly did your Mr. October get you in the postseason last year? Because I…oh, yes, that’s right. One and done with that admirable, clutch lineup of yours, isn’t that so? Bounced in the ALDS, just like the New York roid monkeys?

I’ll give you the “Roider” comments, because I can’t not. I thank you for leaving Jeter be. I can’t really argue with the Bernie thing, and it’s a nicely turned phrase besides.

But “Judas”? Boo hoo. Now drop it. And I don’t know what your beef is with Posada, but at least our catcher isn’t a bigger attention whore than Janice Dickinson.

7:12 — Jeter’s pops out to first for the second out, followed by Kay and the gang having the obligatory “tons of foul territory here in Oakland” conversation. You can’t find a more predictable group than baseball announcers — same rambling stories, same boring anecdotes, same redundant stats, same corny jokes, same complete absence of any comedic timing. It’s uncanny. Doesn’t matter if it’s a local broadcast or a national one. We might as well just have 2K Sports use its video broadcast teams for one of these games. Would anyone even know?

It’s one of those de rigueur comments that every baseball writer makes every season, myself included; I made the mistake of turning on ESPN’s Sunday night game last night to pass the time while I made a lasagna, and Joe Morgan broke my ass out in hives within thirty seconds, and I could have just assumed that you all knew that that happened, because it’s Joe Morgan and he’s a human histamine, but no, I had to mention it because I can’t keep my Joe Morgan hate inside.

But it got me thinking, reading this: why is Joe Morgan still on the air? I ask not just because everyone hates him, but also because…why do we need him? Yes, he’s very knowledgeable about baseball (as he’d be the first to freakin’ tell you), but…isn’t there room, in the iTunes world in which we live, for different “channels” of baseball commentary? Couldn’t we have Joe Morgan types, but also Couch-Baron-and-Sars types where you have a stretch of comfortable silence punctuated by a discussion of Andy Pettitte’s butt? For any given Yankees game, why couldn’t you have a sabremetrics channel, and a “Death Is Not An Option” channel with me and Bean forcing each other to choose between Randy Johnson and Billy Koch, and a Baseball 101 channel where soothing-voiced people explain to new fans what the infield fly rule is and why Guidry might want to use Sturtze here instead of Rivera, and a rage channel staffed by livid Red Sox fans (or Yankee-haters of any vintage, really) who do nothing but bitch about Giambi’s fat face, and a Naughty Boys Need Love Too channel featuring Joe Buck and Bob Costas drinking absinthe and saying whatever crazy crap comes into their heads? And you just flip back and forth and listen to whatever you’re in the mood for? And obviously you’re in the mood for Joe Buck singing “I Love A Parade” and then crying about how much he hates Tim McCarver?

Is that crazy?

April 10, 2006

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