Posts by Eamonn Brennan at FanHouse

Are The Rays Bad For Baseball?

Millionaire ESPN scribe Rick Reilly -- and likely plenty of others -- think so. Signal To Noise caught this exchange on PTI yesterday:
The Four-Letter's $3 million a year poaching, Rick Reilly, subbed for Tony Kornheiser on PTI yesterday, via satellite from Denver with Michael Wilbon in-studio in D.C., and parroted what I'm fairly sure may be a common impulse among a certain segment of sportswriters regarding the current state of the baseball playoffs: he stated his preference for a Red Sox-Dodgers World Series, proclaiming the Tampa Bay Rays "bad for baseball."
S2N draws that out into distinctions -- whether it's bad for baseball, or bad for the business of baseball. Those are the correct distinctions to make. But it doesn't make Rick Reilly right.

Over the long term, I find it hard to believe a team like the Rays, so consistently horrible at baseball, going worst-to-first in the course of a single year is bad for baseball. If anything, it co-opts one of the things that has made the NFL so popular -- the supposed parity that allows any team, no matter how destitute, to go all Rising Phoenix in one year. This is a good thing for baseball. It creates hope. Sports fans like to have hope.

Notable Moments In FanHouse Commenting: 'Larry' Thinks You Suck

At FanHouse, one man's trash is another man's treasure. But only the few raise to the level of Notable Moments in FanHouse Commenting.

Are you an angry man? Are you envious? Do you get envious? Are you a Chicago Cub? A Chicago Cubs fan? A resident of Chicago? A fan of Lake Michigan's beautiful shores and scenic vistas and countless recreational opportunities?

Are you the center of the universe? Are you Chicago? (Is it possible that the two things are the same?) Are you ... president George W. Bush? If you answered yes to any of the above, "Larry," today's Notable FanHouse Commenter, believes you suck:
It doesn't matter who the Cubs have of their roster, they will never win the World Series. They lose because they suck and so do their fans. In fact, the city of Chicago sucks also and so does that polluted lake they have. If you wanted to go to the center of the suckiness in universe, that would be in Chicago. I'm surprised that George Bush isn't from Chicago, cause he sucks as well.
I have heard many things in my life "suck." I am 23, prime age for the doctrine of "suck," where everything either "sucks" or "is lame" or, most egregiously, "gay." Never, ever have I heard someone apply these adjectives to Lake Michigan. How dare you, Larry. Apologize, at once.

Or don't; Lake Michigan has been here for millions of years. What have you ever done?

Bobby Jenks Does Not Appreciate Your Cowbell Tactics

In the MLB regular season, "home-field advantage" is less about fans, and their energy, and much more about familiarity and comfort. Fans don't really get too crazy for regular season games, so any intangible little benefit from cheering and whooping is rare.

In the playoffs, though, the props come out. The Brewers and Angels have the thundersticks, the White Sox have their blackout, and the Rays, well, the Rays have cowbells. Not sure how that got started, but if the goal is to irritate rotund opposing closers, Rays fans can consider it a success:
''Dumbest thing I ever saw,'' he said Sunday of the fans' rallying tactic. ''Just annoying. Minor league.'' But the Sox' ''rolling blackout promotion'' for fans Sunday at U.S. Cellular Field? ''Whoever came up with that idea is a genius,'' Jenks said. ''It brings electricity to us and excites 25 players.''
In other words, Jenks's preferred regional team's fans are better than your preferred regional team's fans. I've heard this joke before.

The Incredible Shrinking Kosuke Fukudome

It wasn't so long ago that Kosuke Fukudome was the king of Wrigleyville, object of the ultimate in Cubs fandom. His mixture of perceived exoticism, Opening Day heroics, and early-season success propelled to fan favorite status as quickly as one can be so propelled.

No more: After a slump so long it can barely be called a "slump" and an 0-8 postseason, Fukudome is battling the unthinkable: rumors that he'll be traded, sent to the minors, or shipped back to Japan:
But if it were up to Fukudome, would he have preferred to change planes in Los Angeles and continue westward for Tokyo? Does the Cubs' first high-profile Japanese import have the toughness to dig himself out of the hole he has fallen into? Will the Cubs give him the chance? One scout interviewed Saturday suggested a course of action that could be tough to swallow. "He has to go to the minors," the scout said. "He has to get rid of all those habits, pulling out on pitches, collapsing. He'll never hit the way he's hitting now, and this is a tough place to work out your problems. Always has been."
What Fukudome really needs is some sort of intensive swing coach, or something. Or maybe he needs to stop thinking about baseball for a while. Whatever the case may be, he'll have to have a strong spring if he plans on being in Wrigleyville much longer. Jim Hendry isn't one to dawdle when it comes to dealing formerly impressive outcasts.

The L.A. Times Does Not Appreciate Kevin Kennedy's Bottle Service

Local sports media markets are always a fun ride. Why, here in Chicago, we have quite possibly the most gloriously insane homer in all of broadcasting, Hawk Harrelson. In Hawk's mind, there has never been a strike zone that was favorable to the Chicago White Sox, never a close slide play called correctly, never a fair shake from the local media. (Who are, of course, in the tank for the Cubs.) It's actually beyond annoying now; it's just entertaining in that certain "Uncle Hawk's drunk again" sort of way.

Los Angeles is apparently not immune to this phenomenon. When the Dodgers clinched the pennant, the Dodgers TV broadcast team toasted to the accomplishment -- popping bottles of [cider], putting on division champs t-shirts, the whole bit. And the L.A. Times's media critic, Steve Springer, is not amused:
So what's the problem? This is an L.A. team being covered by a locally based outlet. What's wrong with a little hometown loyalty? Nothing, except a loss of credibility. Fans might love being fans, but they want to be informed fans. If they want inspiration, they'll go to a pep rally. If they want information, they go to the media.

But only if they think they'll get balanced analysis. Only if they think they can get an unbiased appraisal of their team. Telling us between gulps how great the Dodgers' chances are to raise the pennant doesn't result in much faith in the prognosis.
Springer's is a fair point, and it was probably a bit much. Kevin Kennedy sudsing all over his analysis -- that was an unfortunate verb, but I'm keeping it -- is not going to engender sober-minded analysis. But ... Springer is being a little too joyless here. Let it ride, Springy. It is possible, after all, to be happy about a team's success and still be able to correctly analyze that team's chances. Fans get that, because they're usually the harshest critics.

I doubt too many Dodgers fans saw Steve Lyons and Co., bottles in hand, and lost faith in America's journalistic institutions.

Torii Hunter Has The Facts And He's Voting Yes (It's Steroids)

There was a bit of perhaps unsurprising news yesterday -- the Associated Press very quickly ran the numbers, and realized that the number of home runs this year was at its lowest point for fifteen years. Then, they asked Torii Hunter about it:
"I think the steroid testing has something to do with it," he said. "If there were any guys who were taking it, they're not taking it anymore. I'd say it's a small percentage, but of course it's going to have an impact."
Well then. Of course that's the obvious answer, and it's the one most people would immediately cite, but is it the only one? Hunter mentions ballpark size, too, which, in the inverse, is one of the steroid era's great unsung causes. But there's also the issue of pitchers. If we assume pitchers were taking steroids at roughly the same rate as hitters, then wouldn't home runs stay relatively steady?

I don't know. And that's the whole point -- without actual calculation, instead of my liberal arts-enabled quasi-scientific ramblings -- we don't know. Until that stuff gets done, neither Hunter nor I nor you really know how much steroids are at work here. That's why steroids suck. Even after all the nonsense, we still don't know what we're talking about.

I Want To Be A Rookie On The Marlins



There's nothing harmless in "hazing", so long as it doesn't turn into capital H, high-school-football-team-with-broomhandles Hazing. While that sort of stuff might still happen in small places among youth athletes, one doubts it ever happens among the pros. One hopes not, anyway.

But even among professional hazing, the Marlins version -- as seen above -- is especially friendly. A few funny costumes, like the Burger King dude, Captain America, and so on, and some wandering around on busy city streets. That barely qualifies as hazing.

Maybe it's just because everybody on the Marlins is so young. Technically, everyone's kind of a rookie. Who hazes the hazers?

Forgive Steve Bartman Now? You're Too Late

Oh, how generous of you, selected Cubs fans. After merely five years, you've decided to "forgive" Steve Bartman for totally ruining your life with his precocious grabby hands in 2003. Thank goodness you've come finally around to this momentous decision.

Unfortunately, you're way too late.

See, most Cubs fans, the reasonable ones, forgave that poor little turtlenecked guy years ago. Some (like me) did so immediately after the game. Some did so immediately after the play. Anyone able to process cogent thought and reason would have either admitted a) This is baseball, and, while disappointing, not that big of a deal; b) This is a big deal, but it's not Steve Bartman's fault; or c) This is a big deal, but the Cubs lost the game, and curses don't exist.

To forgive the guy now, after he can't reveal his whereabouts, after he got death threats and whatever else goes along with his whole fable, is incredibly disingenuous. If I were Steve Bartman, I wouldn't want Cubs fans' hollow "forgiveness" any more than I would want to sit down the left field line at Wrigley on Thursday. If you couldn't spare empathy for the guy in 2003, you shouldn't spare any for him in 2008. Just keep his name out your mouth, and drink your beer. Do they still say that at Wrigley?

Cubs Grant 104-Year-Old His Wish, But Not Really

About a month ago, the Chicago Sun-Times released a scathing investigative report into the life and times of one Leo Hildebrand, a 104-year-old Cubs fan with a simple wish: to throw out the first pitch at a Cubs game. Why not, right? Dude's 104. 104-year-olds should be able to get whatever they want, whenever they want it. If you break 100, you should be free from the restrictions of polite public life.

Anyway, after online petitions and the like, Hildebrand is going to get his chance at Wrigley Field. He will not, however, be throwing out the first pitch.

It's disappointing result for the old guy -- he'd been practicing every day for months for his big chance at Wrigley. I assume the Cubs are slightly worried about liability issues; should Leo's arm fly out of its socket during the first pitch, well, that wouldn't be good for anyone. Least of all Leo. Instead? Four free tickets, and a chance to meet all the players. Not a bad haul.

Baseball Players Really, Really Love 'Major League'

"Major League" -- good movie. Not a great or classic movie in any sense, but for baseball fans, it doesn't get much better than a late-Saturday, darkened-living room viewing of "Major League," especially when one's favorite real-life baseball team is particularly horrendous. Afternoons like that are good for the soul.

Baseball players agree. Emphatically. At least, that's the anecdotal lesson in this blog post by the Seattle PI's John Hickey:
There were literally 19 pairs of eyes transfixed on the screen as almost all other business in the clubhouse was put on hold. The players, most of whom have seen the movie dozen and dozens of times, knew all the dialog and talked along with each of the characters. Catcher Jamie Burke estimated he'd probably seen the movie 250 times, and said it and Bull Durham remain his two favorite baseball movies. Pitcher Jarrod Washburn, also one of those transfixed during the movie's finale said it was his favorite baseball movie, bar none.
The standard-issue question here is whether or not "Bull Durham" is a better movie, which leads me to a confession: I've never seen it. I know, I know. I suck. I've never seen Back to the Future or any of the Indiana Jones movies, either, and I blame my parents and my millenial birthdate. Get off my case, OK?
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