Turning Of The Seasons

I. BASEBALL

October, and the moon is hanging in the twilight sky, a faded object that looks like a scuffed baseball. Autumn, Halloween, the time of year when the white of the baseball gives way to the brown of footballs and the orange of basketballs.

Given that the Yankees are in the World Series, and given that I have decided to ignore any World Series in which the Yankees might win--on the theory that it would only encourage them--I've decided to skip right over the World Series and talk about the Giants' off-season.

Okay, so I will watch the World Series. It is what I do. But I won't be happy if the Yankees win.

In any case, I read today the Giants signed Freddy Sanchez to a two year contract. This pleases me.

To acquire Sanchez, the Giants traded a prospect, Tim Alderson, to the Pirates at the trade deadline this year, looking for a spark of momentum to qualify for the playoffs. Sanchez was injured for much of the final months, and the other acquisition, Ryan Garko, did not set the league on fire. Many people on the message boards at sfgate.com second-guessed the trade. But I liked it, and I like the contract extension, and here is why:

1) when he played, I enjoyed watching his defensive work around second base. Smooth and nimble, with a few nifty grabs. When you score few runs and rely on your pitchers, you should back up those pitchers with as strong a defense as possible;

2) he has shown the ability to use the bat to good effect, with a good average. We need all the hitters we can get;

3) and he is a veteran. Specifically, he is a young veteran, which beats our frequent predilection for the end-of-career veteran.

Here's a toast to the burgeoning hopes of the off-season, with all the possibilities that might unfurl.

II. SOCCER

I watched the first leg of the Houston Dynamo--Seattle Sounders Western Conference semifinals last night. It was a good game, but ended up 0-0. It turns out that the anti-soccer zealots are right when they say that soccer needs more scoring. However, they aren't right about why that is.

For one thing, soccer isn't that much different from football in terms of scoring, just in how much each score is worth. Consider a football game that finishes with a score of 21-7; many games like that would be considered very exciting. But consider how to translate that score into the number of times each team scores: the winner scores three times, the loser scores once. Is that much different from a 3-1 result in soccer?

Okay, so Seattle and Houston failed to score goals. But that isn't to say there were no close calls, no great chances. The two keepers, Pat Onstad and the ever elegant Kasey Keller, had strong games. But there were a few glaring chances that should have found the back of the net. And that is the problem that has haunted US soccer for years, both with the national team and in Major League Soccer: a lack of cold-blooded finishing.

There was quite a bit of clever and exciting build up from either team, especially from Stewart Holden and Freddi Ljungberg on Houston and Seattle respectively. But the teams did not finish. And at times, near the end, the passing degenerated into long, telegraphed kicks that were easily intercepted by the defense.

But the atmosphere itself was outstanding. A crowd of 30000-plus in Seattle, standing and cheering, an electric atmosphere that might have been from out of Europe--not that we necessarily need to emulate Europe, mind you, but still, it's a sign of progress, I suppose.

There is a tradition in Seattle among the core fans, a three block march to the Stadium while holding scarves and banners aloft, that is just fantastic. The Sounders are a very exciting franchise in this, their debut season in Major League Soccer. Honestly, if the current incarnation of the San Jose Earthquakes continues to be blandly mediocre, I could see myself adopting the Sounders, especially with a local rivalry soon to arise when the Portland franchise begins play. I've cleverly arranged to have my friends Peter and Roni move to Seattle, thereby giving me a beachhead in terms of developing a local affiliation with the team, and while living in Montana, Seattle was the closest town for professional sports.

The quality of the soccer, and the quality of the broadcast on ESPN, could be considered a hopeful sign of progress for the MLS. Now if only someone could have scored a damn goal to go with the dramatic saves produced on a couple fine efforts.

Playoff Predictions, Non-Expert Version

One benefit of staying home sick from work, other than the obvious benefit, i.e., not working, is the chance to listen to the Detroit Tigers-Minnesota Twins one game playoff for the American League Central Title. I have no direct allegiance to either team, other than the fact that Vaughn is a Twins fan--which means I am torn between wanting them to do well and not wanting them to do better than the Giants and the A's--so I am able to enjoy the game from a neutral fan's perspective.

There is something nostalgic about listening to this game. It reminds me of the drama of David Halberstam's great book, Summer Of '49, which recounted the excitement of a pennant race between the Yankees and the Red Sox. I feel like I should be sitting on a screened front porch somewhere, a pitcher of lemonade perspiring on a table to my left, reading the newspaper. Of course, I don't have a screened porch, nor do I have a lemonade pitcher, let alone a lemonade pitcher that can read the newspaper.

This is appropriate, of course, because nostalgia is a desire for something that we never had in the first place. I certainly didn't live through the 1949 pennant race firsthand.

Still, baseball playoffs! Huzzah!

In this spirit of huzzah, I present my predictions for the 2009 baseball playoffs. Oh, sure, there are innumerable articles from experts and journalists giving their two cents; what makes my predictions unique is that I make absolutely no attempt to rationalize them. Pure intuition, you see, tapping in to the emotional spirit of sports.

So I have predicted the Twins to beat the Tigers today, which may or may not happen. We're in the late innings, and Detroit leads 3-2. But this is no matter, because the winner faces the Yankees, starting tomorrow.

Without further ado:

American League Divisional Round--Yankees beat Twins/Tigers; Angels beat Red Sox.

National League Divisional Round--Cardinals beat Dodgers; Phillies beat Rockies.

American League Championship Series--Angels beat Yankees.

National League Championship Series--Cardinals beat Phillies.


World Series--Angels beat Cardinals.

Thoughts? Agreement? Disputes? Let me know!

A War Of Words: Sports Fans On The Internet

I'm home sick today, which might have colored my perception of things, but honestly, the world of the comment boards at www.sfgate.com is so weird. And this is just in reference to the comments about the sports articles.

There are a number of insightful comments, valid arguments articulately made, and reasonable discussions. It's just sometimes hard to find them behind the elements of the lunatic fringe. It is strange to see even some opinions that I might agree with couched in extreme terms that make me jump back as if scalded by cooking oil.

There are a few people out there who respond via non sequitur to whatever a particular sports columnist writes, criticizing the author's skills, integrity, personal appearance and eating habits. Strange, and needlessly vicious. A lot of what the readers write is not even based on what is actually in the article to which they are responding; they are finding what they want to find, inventing it if necessary.

Some fans of the Oakland Raiders are a classic example, responding to any criticism of their team with ad hominem attacks. Heaven forbid anyone write anything mildly critical of this dysfunctional, dismal franchise which has produced very little in the way of positive results this year: one win, three losses; a franchise quarterback completing less than half of his passes; star running back injured for 2-4 weeks; a front office which tried to ban former Raider and current TV analyst, Rich Gannon, from a preproduction meeting before a televised game simply because he was a former player who criticized them; and a head coach who may well be prosecuted for assaulting an assistant before the season. Nothing (negative) to see here folks. Shut up.

The us versus them attitude is often a good motivation for a sports franchise, and has actually worked well for the Raiders. It just doesn't work when your team isn't good enough to pull it off with panache and when your owner, a much respected figure, appears to be descending into King Lear-like madness.

Not that sports fans have a monopoly on ridiculous comments. There are a lot of hateful comments from all sorts of perspectives, frustrated people taking advantage of the anonymity of the Internet to scatter vitriol and insults like dandelion seeds. This is one more illustration of why sports are a microcosm of society as a whole.

I'm glad that all these people are paying attention to the news--I'm giving them the benefit of the doubt on this point, that they are paying attention to news beyond the box scores. I just wish they weren't so stupid and used better grammar. It's very depressing. I love sports, but sports do not merit name-calling and anonymous hatred.

Keeping A Toon

So, you all--by whom I mean one or two people--followed my personal dilemma as to which football--read 'soccer'--team to follow this year. I stayed true to Newcastle United. How are they doing in the Championship?

Let's look, starting at the cast of characters: Damien Duff, gone. Mark Viduka, gone. Michael Owen, gone. Obafemi Martins, gone (that is a lot of striking potential gone, let's face it). Shay Given, gone.

But Steven Taylor, the young star defender, the local boy, is still there, as is Shola Ameobi, also local. Alan Smith and Nicky Butt are still there. Steve Harper is still there.

And despite the ownership question still not being resolved--how hard is it to sell a team when the fans hate you?--and despite Chris Hughton still being just an interim manager with the specter of Alan Shearer hovering over him, Newcastle sits third in the Championship with five wins, one draw, and one loss, and they won their first match in the Carling Cup.

Oh, and they have a young striker named Nile Ranger. That's just a really cool name, in my opinion, so they must be doing something right.

Baseball '09, Volume XIV: Viewing For The Cycle

TUESDAY, September 8th:

One more pair of free tickets, garnered from work. We lost, a disappointment, losing 4-3 to the weak San Diego Padres to fall further behind in a wild card race, but the tickets are a metaphor for the season: free tickets, a free playoff race. No one expected the Giants to do this well this year, to still be contending, so we should be thrilled that we were even to the point of being disappointed at the loss.

I was going to write a bitter diatribe about the end of the cycle of live games coinciding with the end of the Giants' hopes, but since then, all of a sudden, we flip from weak bats and failed pitching to suddenly drawing within 2 1/2 games of the Rockies' going into tonight's game (which is not going so well, but that is besides the point).

Hope looked dead; now hope is flourishing again, although I still think we lack the bats and the middle bullpen to stay in the race.

But this is baseball, or maybe sports in general, as a metaphor for life. It is such a long season that it weeds out both unreasonable optimism and premature despair. Although with the Dodgers securely in first place, there are certainly grounds for all people of good moral conscience to despair.

So yeah, that Tuesday night, the Giants lost. But I'm going to write about what I liked from the night. That's what matters with sports: there is always another day, so focus on the positive.

Elements of the game that I liked:

1) I did it! I have seen at least one live baseball game every month of the season between April and September. October doesn't count, as the season only stretches a few days into that month, unless the post-season is appended, and I can't count on that, nor could I afford playoff tickets.

In April, A's-Red Sox and Giants-Diamondbacks. 1 win for the good guys, one loss. One ticket paid for, one ticket free from work. In May, Giants-Braves, free from work, victory for the good guys. June, Giants-Rangers, ticket paid for, Giants win, 1 Father's Day tie acquired for free; also, A's-Twins, ticket courtesy of Vaughn, but the wrong team won. July, Giants-Pirates, ticket paid for, I think, and the good guys won. August, Giants-Diamondbacks, free ticket, bad guys won. September, Giants-Padres, free ticket, bad guys won. I think that collection of results is a good snapshot of life's twists. Or at least I hope it is, because otherwise, this blog is far less profound than I hope it is.

2) Aaron Rowand. Hit a home run to dead center to restore a 2-1 lead and later scored from second on a hard infield single from Velez.

3) The defense of Freddy Sanchez. He turned a couple of double plays and made a spectacular leaping snag of a line drive late in the game that was fun to see.

4) The roasted chicken sandwich. It went really well with the (overpriced) Anchor Steam.

5) Clutch hits from Pablo Sandoval and Bengie Molina. It's what we want to see.

All in all, it was a good night for baseball, a fun way to spend an evening with Marina, and--did I mention this yet?--the tickets were free.

Baseball '09, Volume XIII: The Thursdays of August

Thursday, August 27th.

BALL ONE: A warm night by the bay, clear skies, green grass beneath the lights, good beer, good garlic fries. There is nothing like a good game of baseball on such a night.

STRIKE ONE: And that was nothing like a good game of baseball. At least not for the Giants.

STRIKE TWO: To put it another way, as I commented to Vaughn, I sure do love watching baseball. It would have been nifty if the Giants had felt like playing some.

So, I'm just going to draw a curtain over the (in)action on the field in the Giants' 11-0 burst of generosity to the visiting Arizona Diamondbacks. We'll pretend Fred Lewis never slid down to make a catch, only for the ball to sail over his head, to name one instance of Murphy's Law in action that shall be ignored here.

Instead, there's this:

FOUL BALL: The garlic fries at the club level concourse seemed to be much less soggy than the garlic fries up on the view reserved level. This must irk the people up above, which explains the constant, gentle snowfall of peanut- and sunflower seed shells.

BALL TWO: The hot chocolate was really quite delightful.

BALL THREE: After the game, we walked from AT & T Park along the waterfront to the Embarcadero BART Station, watching the moon hang in the sky behind the skyline of the Financial District, watching the lights of the Bay Bridge arc over the Bay, enjoying the mild summer air at 11 p.m.

STRIKE THREE: The first Giants game of the year was a loss to the Diamondbacks. One of the last games of the year is a loss to the same Arizona Diamondbacks by a much worse margin. There is a pessimistic metaphor for life to be found in that, I think.

But then, just to keep me guessing, just when I figured the Giants didn't have the depth to compete for the playoffs after all, when I thought their frailties had finally been exposed, they turn around and sweep the Rockies, simultaneously tying them in the wild card race.

Baseball is a funny thing that way.

Following The Money

The International Olympic Committee has rejected a bid to reinstate softball into the Summer Olympics in time for the 2016 Games. Instead, it is considering rugby, which I can support, and . . . golf.

Now, I've never played golf other than the mini- or computerized version, but it seems to me that golf would not really be in keeping with the Olympic spirit, at least not in terms of equal opportunity for athletes.

This is not even taking into the account that golf is really, really boring to watch, and softball isn't.

Golf is money and privilege. Softball isn't. The Olympics are supposedly a celebration of amateur athletics, even if that distinction has definitely been blurred with the inclusion of NHL, MLB and NBA players. Golf is decidedly not amateur.

Yes, golf does offer chances for women, as well as men. But look at the list of top money winners. For the men, Tiger Woods has earned more than $6 million. Tiger is obviously an exceptionally dominant player, but even the second placed earner is earning over $4 million. The leading earner on the LPGA has earned $1.3 million. Nothing to sneeze at, but proportionally, come on.

When you consider the fact that golf's 'hallowed ground' at Augusta, Georgia, is a club that is closed to women, I think there is not much more that needs to be said. Golf is a country club sport for wealthy men. I think even aesthetically speaking, it has no place in the Olympics.

Softball, on the other hand, does not get the professional rewards or sponsorship deals that the golf tours offer. Doesn't softball make more sense for inclusion in the Olympics than does golf?

Of course, there might be more money to be made from including golf, but I would require proof of that. And even if that were the case, it wouldn't make me happy.

Baseball '09, Volume XII: Because It's What Men Do

The Giants' playoff hopes, if not necessarily diminished, recently encountered new obstacles after a weak home stand in which the Giants barely staved off sweeps from the lowly Reds and the morally-repugnant Dodgers, matched with another late-season surge from the Rockies.

It's tough to say at this point if they will keep up the challenge. But they have at least provided the drama of hit-by-pitch vendettas with the Dodgers and Mets.

Against the Dodgers last Wednesday, it appears that James McDonald threw at Pablo Sandoval, presumably for the purposes of intimidation. And then yesterday, after Matt Cain hit David Wright of the Mets in the head (on an 0-2 count, when logic dictates he would be going for an out), Johan Santana threw behind Pablo Sandoval, clearly in retaliation, and then, after both benches were warned, hit Bengie Molina, ostensibly unintentionally and without punishment.

Pablo and Bengie both hit key home runs in the Giants' extra-innings victory.

Here's my question about these sorts of tactics and retaliations: why?

The first instance, that of intimidation, if it is done for that reason, that's just bad sportsmanship. And in the question of retaliation, eye-for-an-eye justice, the argument is that pitchers have to protect their teammates, both psychologically and physically, as part of a code.

It's just stupid. You're playing a game. What part of playing a game should involve attempting to hit the other team's best players, with the obvious exceptions of football and hockey? This isn't exactly dodgeball or kickball in the playground when you play with big red foam-rubber balls.

Furthermore, the idea of baseball is to get the other side out. Hitting a batter gives them a free base runner, and, because baseball officially frowns on retaliation, it can lead to ejections of a manager and/or pitcher. Call me crazy, but that seems like it would be at best a Pyrrhic victory to hit the other team's batter, give them a baserunner, and get yourself ejected from a game.

People will argue that it is part of the game; that it is part of being a man and sticking up for your team; that it is an intangible element that can truly impact the course of a game and a season, and therefore must be utilized for the Machiavellian pursuit of success.

This is stupid. True, probably, but still stupid.

It's an outmoded notion that speaks to the visceral hatred of the other side, regardless of all the talk about codes and honor. Codes and honor, by the way, are often predicated on stupid premises themselves.

I think the people who regard this code of manly behavior as being the right thing to do are the same people who consider Born In The USA to be a completely patriotic, uncomplicated 4th of July Bar-B-Que-and-beach anthem.

The argument will be that sports are passion, that this aspect of baseball will never go away, that I'm being overly idealistic and naive to argue against it. Yes, and? Just because there is an evil in the game, that doesn't mean I have to accept it as necessary.

A Tale Of Two Contract Disputes

Ah, Labor: the virtue of the working class; the sufferings of a mother bringing another future worker into the world to compete for resources; the source of hundreds of thousands of sports fanatics around the world. And typically, the side I would choose in any dispute.

A Bay Area Rapid Transit Union is calling a strike as of the end of service on Sunday night, which would shut down the central spine of the local public transit hub, overloading the other transit agencies and leaving thousands of workers free to worry less about whether their own jobs are secure, because they will be worrying about just how they will get to those jobs in the first place.

Keep in mind, we are also approaching the Labor Day weekend, when the Bay Bridge will be shut down for construction efforts. That could be interesting.

Why am I talking about a labor strike in a sports blog? Well, every story of a dispute needs a good cop/bad cop angle, and in this case, the BART union is the good cop. Even though the average BART worker salary is more than twice what I make.

The bad cop, sadly, comes from the world of sports.

The bad cop is San Francisco 49ers top draft pick, Michael Crabtree, who is threatening to hold out for an entire season. He wants to be paid 'top 5' money, commensurate with what someone drafted among the top five selections would earn, even though he was drafted at number 10.

A few disclaimers on this before people doubt my sympathy for the 'laborer': yes, as far as the BART union goes, it would be a hard job; they deserve to be well paid; and historically, management has been known to use economic downturns to stick it to the worker. As far as an athlete goes, yes, they can be considered labor, and have had legitimate labor issues over the decades--watch certain episodes of Ken Burns' excellent Baseball documentary; and yes, sports are physically demanding, with many consequences for the athlete in later years, so they do need to be well paid to take care of themselves and their family in later years.

But Michael Crabtree, regardless of wanting top five money without the rationale of, you know, actually being in the top five, seriously, can you really not live with whatever you are certain to earn as a top draft pick in the NFL? Every year the trend has been for players and agents to ask for more and more money. This is not a cost-of-living sort of trend; this is nothing to do with inflation. If Crabtree gets the sort of money he is looking for, according to SI.com's John Lopez, he would earn $3 million more per season than Jerry Rice ever made. Michael Crabtree is not yet Jerry Rice.

Michael, if you think you're going to struggle to make it in this admittedly expensive city, I can tell you where the cheap sushi and the good happy hour deals can be found.

Here's the thing: Crabtree's holdout may be a negotiating ploy, but it sure seems tactless, to say the least. Assuming you want to be a success at the game, and assuming you want fans to love you, don't you think you should avoid pissing everyone off as to how much money you think you deserve?

Sports are simply sports. This is a country where socialism is considered a dirty word--it's considered this mostly by people who don't pay attention to what socialism really is and whether it might be beneficial to them, instead relying on the advice of people with a vested interest in capitalistic trends. Nevertheless, until our currency becomes useless for anything except kindling, I don't think athletes should take our 'free market' spirit for granted, because it isn't like they are short of cash.

How much do you really need to live well?

Lights, Camera, Action!

So yesterday I watched two Mexican soccer games, Cruz Azul-Pumas and Morelia-America, sandwiched around a Major League Soccer game between San Jose and Seattle. I found them all entertaining, even though I understood very little of what the announcers were saying. I had difficulty following the announcers in the Mexican games, too.

Kidding. Mostly. American sportscasters tend to make me sneeze with their inevitably inane comments, especially when they aren't precisely unbiased and feel the need to proclaim that Seattle came to town to get rough with San Jose, speaking in the contemptuous tones that indicate just what they think of the Pacific Northwest and its fog-drenched immorality.

On the other hand, I sometimes find this less annoying than the atmospheric-and-passionate-yet-persistently-clanging cries of "Goooll, goooooool, goooool" from the Mexican announcers, trying to be a verbal version of the goal-siren in hockey games. They do the same thing with awarded penalty kicks: "Penaaal, penaaaal, penaaal." I don't mind that as much as the goals themselves. Yes, we can see it is a goal, thank you very much.

To be fair to the American announcers, there were a lot of cards in the Seattle-San Jose game, including a deserved red card for James Riley of Seattle. It was a choppy, bad tempered match-up, livened up by some nice individual efforts and some well-taken goals for San Jose's 4-0 victory.

Artistically speaking, though, the Mexican games were much more pleasing to the eye. Maybe it was because I wasn't distracted by listening to the sportscasters--though I was proud to pick out a few words here and there, like "of course", "Torado", and "goal"--but I managed to focus on the play, and the quality of the play on the field seemed much more dynamic, more fluid. It looked like they were playing on a much larger pitch; the local broadcast of the Earthquakes made it look like they were playing on a rough, narrower field, kind of like comparing a high school field with the Estadio Azteca, which, coincidentally, is where the Club America-Morelia game was played. In fact, when I was working out the premise for this blog, I was going to write that US soccer needs larger fields to work with, to improve the quality of play, or at least the presentation of the game. Then I did some pesky fact-checking, and if Wikipedia is correct, Buck Shaw Stadium's pitch actually has more generous dimensions than does Mexico's national stadium.

Which means Major League Soccer doesn't have that excuse for not matching the same fluidity of play.

I think there are two possible factors at play: technical skill, and the quality of the television broadcast. Both are key to the development and advancement of the MLS in the public's eye.

As a general rule, I think it is accepted that the level of technical skill for the individual player is better in the Mexican League than in Major League Soccer. This is also a problem with the US national team, which relies on organization and athletic ability, which are indeed strengths, but which are not enough. However, I would say this gap is closing, both with the young American players coming up and with the trend in Major League Soccer to recruit more and more young players from Latin America.

The camera work, though, that could stand some improvement. A lot of the time, I felt that the camera work made the field look cramped, and it was too focused on the ball, with none of the broader views of the geometry of the runs players make when they don't have the ball, the broader views that I love so much in the Mexican telecasts, and in ESPN's coverage of the UEFA Champions League.

Image is important in this country; let's polish up the broadcast of Major League Soccer matches, and maybe you will see even more interest from the public.

Kicking Off The Season

I have picked a team. Sort of.

The poll results were small, but useful. Three votes for Arsenal, two for Manchester United, one for Everton, one for Liverpool, one for Aston Villa.

When I registered for a fantasy soccer league, it asked for my favorite team, and I selected Newcastle United. They are going through chaos, an unpopular owner unable to sell the team, the new season a week away and no decision made on a manager, some players have left, and poor results in exhibition matches.

But I picked them in my younger days, so I will stay with them now, for better or for worse. For some people, after all, a relationship with a sports team is like a marriage, only it is harder to divorce your favorite sports team.

This comparison is an exaggeration, perhaps, but there is a real significance to your allegiance to a sports team, because we all, deep down, think that it makes a difference in the world that we root for a certain team, a certain organization, that we can will success. For some reason, it just feels right to me to continue to root for Newcastle.

Also, this will give me incentive to follow EVEN MORE soccer, as I will want to see Newcastle win promotion back to the Premiership.

It also makes me feel better, because I was leaning towards rooting for Manchester United, which would be like rooting for AC Milan in Italy, simply because they signed American defender Oguchi Onyewu, disregarding the taint of their affiliation with Silvio Berlusconi.

I will, however, root for Michael Owen to hit a ton of goals, because I picked him for my fantasy team. And I will root for Manchester United to win the Champions League, because they have the best shot, I think.

As for the Premier League, I will root for Liverpool, even though a recent scandal involving Steven Gerrard and a brawl in a pub has tarnished my affection; therefore, Arsenal will be my co-favorites in the Premiership.

Who says you can't have your cake and eat it to?

Balls And Strikes

An experiment with a motif: random sports thoughts, labeled as elements of a 'pitch count.' Too obvious, perhaps, but then, maybe that's a good theory for life: write like no one's reading.

BALL ONE: Here's an excerpt from an article in World Soccer, concerning the original Ronaldo--not the newer model from Portugal--and his successful return to Brazilian League soccer:

"But almost a decade and a half in Europe has reduced his tolerance for some of the more informal aspects of Brazilian organisation. In May he was critical as the podium caught fire when his club received the Sao Paulo state championship trophy."

What a prima donna.

STRIKE ONE: Michael Phelps' coach, Bob Bowman, reacted sternly after Phelps lost a race--and a world record--to a German wearing a polyurethane bodysuit that swimming's international governing body has voted to outlaw sometime next year. Bowman talked about encouraging Michael to boycott international events until this swimsuit is banned, implying that such technological elements ruin everything.

Losing Phelps would cost organizers lots of money, so it is an effective threat, whatever your position on Swimsuitgate might be.

Nevertheless, I can't help but picturing Bowman as a spoiled kid announcing he's going to 'take my swimmer and go home.'

It's also an ironic development when you consider the controversy over the Nike-designed LZR suit Phelps wore in Beijing--and which he is contractually obligated (there's that money motif again) to keep wearing, which prevents him from trying these other suits.

BALL TWO: Considering the potential effects of Brett Favre's summer-long flirtation with and eventual rejection of former rivals, the Vikings, one is tempted to think it was all orchestrated by Green Bay and Favre to rattle and destabilize Minnesota. All that talk by the Packers last year of not letting Favre un-retire to sign with Minnesota, the mediocre season with the Jets, it was all a prelude to keeping Minnesota on tenterhooks right up to training camp, telling quarterbacks Tavaris Jackson and Sage Rosenfels that they weren't necessarily first- and second-choice for the position. And now there are even rumors that the Vikings might turn to just-released ex-con Michael Vick in the wake of being spurned by Favre, which would pretty much slam the door on Brad Childress's talk of building a team without character issues.

It proves how loyal a Green Bay son Favre really is, that he let his name be dragged in the mud for being wishy-washy all these months, just to screw over the Vikings one last time. Clearly those snow-bound, apple-cheeked Wisconsin natives have read their Machiavelli.

Baseball '09, Volume XI: Night Baseball

Night baseball deserves a quiet night. Or, barring that, a good beer or two, clear skies, a minimum of chilly breezes, and a portion of irony.

So last night was successful.

The Giants were playing the nondescript Pirates of Pittsburgh. Nondescript is not really fair, perhaps, except that their starting pitcher was Charlie Morton, whom I believe they got in a trade with Atlanta for their last remaining star outfielder, so I knew nothing about him, and let's face it: Charlie Morton is a fairly nondescript name. The Pirates have traded several of their stars this year, and two remaining stars, Jack Wilson and Freddy Sanchez, did not play last night--both were traded today, Wilson to Seattle and Sanchez all the way down the hall to the Giants' clubhouse, which ties in to the irony which will be discussed later. The upshot was that I really didn't know much about any of the Pirates, except that they are youthful and have collected some promising young batters.

Maybe it was the quality of light, or maybe it was the relatively sparse attendance, but there was something kind of tired about the atmosphere in the early stages of the game. Even the grass seemed a little faded; I suppose that could be a good metaphor for the progress of a baseball season through the heat of July and the mid-season stages, if I were so inclined as to look for elaborately picturesque metaphors. I am so inclined, of course.

Or maybe it was a sense of resignation from the crowd after Barry Zito's first pitch was lashed for a double, and the Pirates quickly had a 1-0 lead.

But if there is one thing distinctive I've noticed in the games I've seen Zito pitch this year, other than the fact that his pant legs are tucked into his high black socks, which is very distinctive during the high leg kick of his windup, it is that Zito will keep you on the edge of your seat and worried, even when he is pitching quite solidly. This is barring the few games in which he has been hammered; nevertheless, he is better than his 6-10 record indicates, even if he hasn't exactly been worth the $126 million we paid him.

And for today's delicious bit of irony, consider the case of Eugenio Velez, who has been up and down between the majors and minors for the last couple of years, and was up from the minors to fill in at second base, presumably while the Giants worked a trade for more offense from that position, a trade that would result in Freddy Sanchez. In the meantime, last night was Ryan Garko's debut with the Giants, and he went 0-4, which is not unexpected for his first night in a new league. However, what was unexpected was for Velez to provide 66.6% of the Giants' offense on the night, whacking a solo homer in the second and driving in Fred Lewis in the 6th inning--Velez also scored the only run of the Giants' extra-inning win this afternoon, being driven in by the once-again-so-aptly-named Randy Winn.

The Giants did annoy me again by stranding so many runners, as they so often do, as we all so often do to the ones who love us, akin to a ship passing stranded swimmers while still having plenty of life-preservers to go around, but they executed perfectly in a couple key moments: Fred Lewis singling, stealing second, and coming around to score on Velez' double; Randy Winn playing a perfect sacrifice bunt to move Andres Torres to third base for Pablo Sandoval to drive in with the winning run in the 7th; and Sandoval taking off from first on the pitch to facilitate a perfect hit-and-run with Bengie Molina lacing a single to center field--they didn't score on this play, but it was unexpected, because Sandoval is nicknamed Kung Fu Panda in part, I think, because he doesn't look like a speed demon on the bases.

All in all, a satisfying 3-2 victory at home, even if $8 dollars for a bottle of Anchor Steam and $7.50 for a softball-sized chicken sandwich seems to be approaching airport-level pricing for food.

Baseball '09, Volume X: The Trade

Trades. The shifting of a reality. One day, a player is not playing for you; the next day, he is, and the narrative is changed.

It isn't to say that the future is changed; once a trade is made, a potential future without the player no longer matters, no longer exists, alternative history novelists and quantum mechanics be damned.

I can't say that with a straight-face; of course the other futures still matter. Sci-fi alt-histories are sweet.

There is a little shock of excitement to see the trade rumors begin to fly, to see which ones come true and which do not pan out. I can't possibly explain why this appeals, except to refer to the larger scope of the appeal of baseball, the strategies of team-building or the quest for instant success, the allocation and expenditure of resources, depending on whether your goals are short- or long-term. Economists might find much to love in this.

And on a more visceral level, when your team makes a big change, you can't help but think happy thoughts and that surely the new guy will be the next coming of Will Clark, Willie Mays, and Christy Mathewson all rolled into one. Unless your team is Oakland, and then you think Well, there goes Matt Holliday. Here come three more prospects. Guess we'll wait until 2011 again.

The Giants needed some sort of momentum shift today. Coming off the All-Star break, we went 3-7 and fell two games behind the Rockies in the wild card race, losing 2 of 3 in Colorado over the weekend.

Today it was announced the Giants traded minor league pitcher Scott Barnes for Ryan Garko, a power-hitting first baseman from the Indians who played his college ball in Stanford. He will play his first game for the Giants tomorrow night, and it just so happens I have club level tickets, so stay tuned for a report.

I don't know much about Garko, but I like what I hear. Young, good hitter, the possibility of signing him to a longer term contract--I would hate for him to be a half-year rental, because I don't think we are quite close enough to World Series caliber to make a deal for a hired gun, as it were. Besides, look at how Holliday the hired gun worked out for Oakland; he failed to clean up that town so was shipped out into the sunset.

The interesting thing is that we have a prospect, Jesus Guzman, tearing up the minor leagues with his bat. Apparently we decided a guy named Jesus was not our savior for this season. Garko is older, more polished, apparently better defensively.

Plus, everyone knows Buster Posey is going to be our savior next year, and it would be selfish to expect more than two saviors on one team, Tim Lincecum being another messianic figure.

In any case, this trade either gives us the time to develop Travis Ishikawa or Jesus Guzman further in the protective shadow of Ryan Garko--assuming he proves capable of casting said shadow--or possibly using Guzman as trade bait for further help, possibly in the pitching rotation that has shown vulnerability behind Lincecum and Matt Cain, our two all-conquering All-Stars. Ishikawa would not be trade bait; I could see Guzman being attractive to teams looking for hitting.

But more importantly, we are buyers, not sellers, before the July 31st trade deadline. That in itself is exciting, because the Giants are trying to improve. That feels like personal validation.

This is the time to decide which way the team and the season go. Seriously, at this point, things could go either way; we could challenge for a playoff spot, or we could fade. There have been great memories so far, and more hope and expectation than I predicted before the season.

I'm looking forward to watching the rest of the narrative.

Baseball '09, Installment 2

The next set of installments from my chronicle of the baseball season, brought here to consolidate my sports writings. You're welcome.

Volume IV: MEMORIAL DAY

Volume 5: Radio Edition Mark ii

Volume VI: Noah's Ark

Intermission

Volume VII

Volume VIIb

Volume VIII

Volume IX

Sounder Fury

Sports are often tales told by idiots. For example, Plaxico Burress--whose name, by the way, runs a gamut of possible spellings on Google--the Giants wide receiver, illegally concealed a handgun in his pants one night when going out partying and shot himself in the leg, possibly ruining his career, and definitely ruining his street cred, or so I would assume, unless shooting yourself in the leg actually burnishes your street cred. Totally lacking in street cred myself, I don't know how it accumulates.

These extreme cases are the exceptions to the rule that any attention is good attention, a maxim that most of the sporting world follows.

Consider yesterday's Major League Soccer match between the white-clad Chicago Fire and the Seattle Sounders in their fluorescent-green uniforms. The game intrigued me, because it would be the first time I would see Freddie Ljungberg plying his trade in the U.S. I have long been an admirer of his work ethic since he played for Arsenal; nevertheless, I was disappointed by some of his actions that followed a great play.

I turned on the game in the second half, in time to see Ljungberg collect a ball in a dangerous position in the field and accelerate past the Chicago defense, heading for a clear lane to the goal. A reckless, desperate tackle by Chicago defender John Thorrington, who had already received a yellow card, tripped Ljungberg and resulted in Thorrington's ejection.

You would think the referee's willingness to issue cards would have been well-established at that point. However, three minutes later, Ljungberg gets the ball again at the top of the 18 yard penalty area, taps the ball past C.J. Brown, perhaps a bit harder than he intended, and as he goes by Brown, drops to the turf dramatically.

If there was any contact, it was very minimal. The referee felt there was not, and issued a yellow card to Ljungberg for unsporting behavior for the dive, and from my view of the replay, I would concur with the decision.

In sports, of course, the notion is "Anything goes, so let's have a go at the referee." Ljungberg got in the referee's face, clearly arguing against the yellow card, arguing to such an extent that a second yellow was produced, and Ljungberg was ejected.

The TV analysts were sharply critical, saying the ref was playing way too big a role in the game. This argument has always pissed me off. I'm biased, having refereed for several years myself, and having had my father, who also refereed, once pushed by an angry/unacceptable/jackass fan/father, but still. That's ludicrous.

Is it possible that the referee did not have to red card Freddie? Yes, it is possible. Referees are fallible and get things wrong. But according to the letter of the law, dissent by word or action is a yellow card offense, in and of itself, and, depending on what Freddie said to the referee, it could have qualified as abusive language or gestures, which merit a straight red card. It certainly did not look friendly to see him getting in the referee's face on national TV.

The thing that caught my attention, though, was the attention the TV paid as Ljungberg walked off the field. It appeared that he was certainly playing to the home crowd, exhorting them to anger over the exile of their hero, exactly like a gladiator playing to the crowd.

Obviously sports aren't the perfect metaphor for wars. Maybe they are better suited for the 'bread and circuses' atmosphere of the gladiatorial ring. Outrage and controversy generates attention, and attention sells tickets and advertisements.

There is a two-faced god of the appeal of sports. Under the auspices of the smiling face, there are skills and drama and competitive narratives; for the frowning face of chaos, there are scandals and disputes and ire, the 'kill the ref' side. You have incidents like David Beckham being fined $1000 for a confrontation with a fan. $1000 is nothing to David Beckham. Sure, Major League Soccer couldn't have fined him on a separate scale from their normal index, even though that amount is meaningless to him, but I think the attention garnered by the controversy over Beckham, for better or for worse, has the potential to bring the league greater revenue by far.

Mixed martial arts are only the most blatant example of sports as gladiatorial circus, where you have Brock Lesnar vilified by his conduct after a recent fight, which sure seems to have sparked a lot of attention.

Sports are definitely an opiate of the masses. Don't get me wrong; this is not necessarily a bad thing. People need distraction; people need stories to feel good about. The surging energy of a home crowd at a dramatic moment is a rush unlike any other. But a lot of the controversy is sound and fury, signifying nothing but an attention grab.

In this regard, sports are entertainment, pure and simple. The sort of controversy generated by missed calls or bad behavior on the playing field is very similar to, say, the controversy over the voting on So You Think You Can Dance, where in the later rounds, who stays and who goes is based entirely on popular vote. (Yes, I watch So You Think You Can Dance, and it is absurd that Janette was eliminated. People are idiots.)

It might be said that to grow interest in a product or a game, be it sports or dancing--and both soccer and the various artistic forms of dance that SYTYCD highlights are deserving of interest--a certain degree of marketing is needed to supplement the content. A pragmatist would argue that you have to take a bit of the bad with the good, and there is a lot of bad in some of the anger that is generated by such trivial things as a player being ejected from a game--yes, I say trivial, despite the large amounts of money that can be at stake in a game.

Entertainment can be simply a distraction; for example, look no farther than the travesty that Michael Jackson's death, sad as it was, supplanted the protests in Iran at the front and center of our attention.

These sorts of controversy in sport can be good, if they spark interest and thus grow the game; but it can all be a bit absurd; and we haven't even discussed the absurd money Real Madrid and the Yankees have thrown at various free agents in these economic times, moves that could backfire in the long run by pissing off people who have lost their jobs and can't afford to go to games anymore because Cristiano Ronaldo needs his 100,000 pounds a week in salary.

Gladiatorial contests were much more affordable for the public when they just killed the losers, because the dead don't need paychecks and bonuses.

Allegiance

Imagine reading The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy with no Arthur Dent. Or imagine watching Star Wars with no Han Solo: the classic edition, of course, because Han shot first.

Anyway, this is the conundrum I face going into this year's English Premier League soccer season. My favorite team, Newcastle United, was relegated at the end of last season, meaning they finished in the bottom three positions in the standings, which means they have to drop down to a lower league this year. This is as if the Athletics or the Giants were to play so abysmally that they were told to go down to Triple AAA en masse to sort things out.

This could be a useful way to deal with the Athletics, actually.

True fans, of course, would devote themselves loyally to following Newcastle's progress in the English League Championship (an ironic name, given it is technically the Second Division. The English League One, obviously, is the Third Division. Got it? Good). Only fair-weather fans or fans of negotiable affection would look to pick a new favorite team.

Well, pass me my sun block and street-walking shoes, because that's exactly what I'm going to do.

One would think that I would be satisfied with Liverpool. Liverpool has always been, if not my #1 favorite team, then probably # 1a. Liverpool gave us the Beatles. Michael Owen burst onto the world stage while wearing Liverpool Red. Liverpool won the Champions League in Turkey in 2005 in stunning fashion. My friend James is from Liverpool.

For some reason, though, this doesn't really satisfy. I think that because Liverpool has been consistently coming up just short of winning the Premiership, always in that mix of the Top Four teams, never quite breaking through, I am becoming somewhat weary of pinning a narrative of the season on their fortunes. Newcastle has been up and down, but at least there was uncertainty.

This isn't to say that I won't pull for Liverpool. But cheering for Liverpool is like rooting for that woman you have known for a long time and love as a friend, because you respect her and have lots of affection for her. I need another team to leave me feeling giddy.

There are 20 teams in the Premiership. I've eliminated a few of the teams as being unacceptable: Hull City and Stoke, last year's newcomers who managed to survive, because they in essence shoved Newcastle out; this year's newcomers, Burnley, Wolverhampton, and Birmingham, because I just don't care: Birmingham would be closest, but it's Birmingham. I just can't find it within myself to care about Birmingham. Not that I've ever really been there. For me, Birmingham is simply a transit hub; I would change train lines there on my way from London to Aberystwyth, and it is through where we flew to and from Mallorca.

From the rest, I've culled it down to six candidates, including Liverpool. Forthwith, a presentation of the attractions and repulsions of each club. The chief requirements in this utterly scientific process were location, the role of Americans, and talismanic figures.

And at the end, a poll!

Here we go, excluding Liverpool, and with apologies to my British friends who may actually like some insulted towns and teams:

1) Arsenal. Location is key for Arsenal. I love London, and it is one of the only British cities with soccer teams in which I have spent much time--London gives this list Arsenal, Fulham, and West Ham, and Chelsea and Tottenham were near-misses.

There is something inherently dignified about Arsenal. I call it the Hornby Effect. Nick Hornby loves Arsenal, as described in Fever Pitch, and anything Nick Hornby says has to be right. Arsenal has always seemed like perhaps the quieter older brother of the flashier Man United or Chelsea, though not without charismatic stars like Cesc Fabregas, and before that, Patrick Vieira, Thierry Henry, and Dennis Bergkamp.

However, Arsenal seems to be potentially entering a tailing-away period, possibly less-well-equipped to keep up with Chelsea and Manchester and Liverpool at the top.

2) Aston Villa. Aston Villa suffers from the location question, playing in Birmingham, although with the partially redemptive fact that I think I could see their stadium from the train when I passed through, and that's just cool.

Aston Villa has been mid-table most of the time I've followed the Premiership, but they do have not one, but two American goal-keepers in Brad Friedel and Brad Guzan. This is important to me, because I feel like every American signed to play with a European team is like a small validation of me as an American soccer fan. I take my victories where I can get them.

3) Everton. Everton is led by Tim Howard, the current number one American keeper, not to mention Tim Cahill, the Australian midfielder who intrigued me at the last World Cup.

But on the other hand, this is Everton, based in Liverpool, and I think that would be just wrong to cheer for both Liverpool and Everton. It would be like rooting for both the Packers and the Vikings, or both the Red Sox and the Yankees.

4) Fulham. I actually have a personal connection with Fulham. My grandmother's cousin Colin who lives in London is a big Fulham fan. I've walked past Craven Cottage--Fulham's stadium. Fulham is a mid-sized club that has played hard to stay in the Premiership year after year. And Fulham has a history of welcoming Americans, from former players Brian McBride and Carlos Bocanegra to current players Clint Dempsey and Eddie Johnson. It helps to root for a team when there are specific names to root for as well.

But is there actual hope for Fulham to win great things? As a fair-weather fan, I'm allowed to have certain expectations for a return on my emotional investment.

Before I list the final candidate, I need to say this: when Michael Owen signed with Newcastle a couple years back, I was joyful. Michael Owen is the talisman for me who followed Alan Shearer as my icon. Matching Owen with Newcastle was the best of all possible worlds, especially when Alan Shearer was brought in as manager in an ultimately-futile effort to save the Magpies from relegation.

Please bear this in mind when I mention 5) Manchester United.

I know. This is like rooting for the Yankees. They always win and have tramloads of money. I have rooted for them in the Champions League when they bore the English banner, but otherwise, they have always been the (Red) Devil you had to root against, that your team had to get past in order to win the league. I feel almost dirty listing them as a possibility.

But they signed Michael Owen. Plus, they sold Cristiano Ronaldo, who always amazed and annoyed me at the same time.

So now I'm torn. Do I make a deal with the (Red) Devils, knowing that hopefully Newcastle will be right back up in the top-flight next year, making it a one year Faustian bargain?

Decisions, decisions. Time for a poll. Cast your vote, if you care, as to which team I should follow.

Baseball '09

Let the games begin. I love writing about sports. Not everyone loves reading about sports. Don't ask me why. If everyone were rational, this wouldn't be an interesting world to inhabit.

The point is, I'm going to create different foci for my blogs. This one will be my sports playground, where I can write my biased opinions and musings about that particular paradigm of interest. Mostly, it will be baseball and soccer, hence the title, which plays on a pun on 'pitch.'

To start, a collection of links to some of my posts so far this year concerning my project of attending as many baseball games as possible, at least one a month. Why did I set myself this project? Because it's baseball, obviously.

Volume I

Volume II

Random Baseball Thoughts

Volume III

The rest will follow, as one pitch follows another, and as red cards follow Mexico when they play the US.