five ways to save baseball

  1. A New Commissioner
    Yeah, it's an easy stance to take, as just about everyone who's ever heard of the sport wants current Commissioner of Major League Baseball Bud "It's a tie! Everyone wins!" Selig to hit the showers once and for all. But let's not forget that whoever replaces Bud the Dud is going to have an uphill struggle restoring the public's confidence in the market - um, i mean game. Unlike the Harvey Pitt of baseball, it'll have to be someone who loves the game, won't tolerate pitchers who throw beanballs as if they were sunflower seed hulls, and (perhaps most importantly) does not have a financial interest in any of the teams.
    Former US President and Jimmy Carter, a man who could make Jim and Tammy Faye kiss and make up (shudder), has offered to mediate, and some have even suggested drafting Jimmy as the next Commish. All good except for the fact that he's a Braves fan, and that would just be Wrong. there's another former Southern governor whose earlier stated ambition was to be Baseball Commissioner, but i care about the game too much to let Uncurious George screw it up any worse than it is now.
    likewise, none of the current or recent MLB execs are ready to step up to the plate. Frank Robinson left to try and convince the Expos to win a game once in a while, and Bob Watson has the taint of Selig on him - e.g., fining Shawn Estes for throwing at Clemens' giant ass (and how did he miss?) but ignoring the Sprocket's throw at Barry Bonds' wrist, which he'd openly stated he would do beforehand.
    then who? i nominate Jesse "The Governor" Ventura. he may not be a baseball fan (i honestly don't know), but he stood up for his hometown Twins when Selig threatened to contract them (say "inside deal" three time fast). i see Jesse as someone who wouldn't fine Fat Bastard for throwing a broken bat at Mike Piazza, he'd fly into LaGuardia, hop on the Number 7 train, walk into the stadium and flatten him. then he'd fine and suspend him.
  2. Bye-Bye Brewers
    hey, contraction wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. especially when it's Bud Selig's team, the useless Milwaukee Brewers. i have nothing against Milwaukee: this is the city that welcomed Hank Aaron into the majors. to truly honor the Hammer's career both as player and symbol of what's right with the game, this team shadow-owned by Selig, playing in a park named for a tobacco company's lameass beer, and only playing slightly better than the pathetic Devil Rays must go.
  3. Ditch the DH
    there are things about commercial baseball that irk me that i am willing to forgive. the pampered closers for example, especially in the AL, where even an 18-run lead gets you one in the 'S' column. the endorsements (see below). the bobbleheads. but the designated hitter is an abomination before the Lord. besides, there's nothing like watching a pitcher take a cut at a 95-mph fastball and actually make contact.
  4. No more Viagra ads
    please, Rafael. we really did not want to know.
  5. WOMEN
    there are no female players in the Major Leagues. why the hell not? most female players are pushed into softball by the time they reach middle school, leaving them with the shining career prospect of ... nothing. i have seen little league girls who can play second like Roberto Alomar used to, throw no-hit streaks that last for weeks, and plug a curveball through the gap in left-center for a stand-up triple. c'mon, guys, say it with me: Title Nine. baseball needs to be dragged kicking and screaming into at least the late Twentieth Century. we need a Jacqui Robinson.



what the F?!?

i generally refrain from political or social commentary because although i usually know what i think, i don't say it very well. that, and i am full of shit. but this, i have to say.

the morning paper had the usual middle east report, another bomb, another retaliation, another retaliation for a retaliation, or something. the headline read that another palestinian "terrorist" was assassinated by the israelis. yawn. one kills the other, then the other's brother kills the one, then the one's cousin kills the other's uncle, rinse, lather, repeat. from 6000 miles away and mediated by a chain newspaper that prints corporate press releases and AP stories verbatim, it's all so removed and happening to someone else.

on the way to pick up bink i heard the re-broadcast of this morning's Democracy Now. i have total respect for Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzalez as journalists, but i can't stand their radio styles and usually turn it off after a few minutes. today they reported on the above incident in the occupied territories but with info the paper had neglacted to mention. the alleged terrorist was killed by an airstrike, along with his wife, three of their children, and ten or more others including children.

wife. daughters. sons. kids. guess we forgot to mention them.

collateral damage.

just keep telling yourself: this is okay. this is an Official Response. this is okay. this is a war on Terror. this was Self-Defense. this was Necessary.

This. Is. Not. O. Kay.

i have no words for this except, this is F'd.



i have a wife, three children, and a bunch of neighborhood kids over here on a regular basis. am i collateral, or are they?

that's all i have for now. i have to kiss my sons goodnight.


another 'blog

the gospel according to herb is now online. It'll be scary.



at the new mexico arts and crafts fair

while i was pushing the double stroller, bink and mama stopped at a raku artist's stall. personally i could live in a universe without raku, but i suppose it's mostly harmless. the artisan had made several small tile pendants, each with a single chinese(?) character and a translation on the back, 12 bucks each or two for 20. bink had a tenspot coming to him for refraining from violence and generally not grumbling too much during the past two weeks (a.k.a. his allowance) and apparently it was burning a hole in his pocket before it even got there, the urge to GET something driving him like an alkie on payday.

mama picked out one for "mother" while bink agonized over which one to GET. he finally settled on one depicting "peace and harmony". i asked him if he was sure he wanted to spend his entire allowance on this tchatchka (yes) and was he REALLY sure (i said Yes) and would he promise not to swing it around at his little brothers (i will) and did he realize that it would be his entire allowance and that would be it (YES) and so we got the damn things.

within ten minutes he was bitching that he didn't want it.

"it's the wrong one! i wanted wisdom!"

mama reminded him that we'd gone over the non-reversable nature of this interaction in time and space, that he'd made a decision and would have to stick with it and would he please just shut his piehole? bink mumbled something unintelligible and glared at both of us like he wanted to pick a fight. i chose not chase that snake down its hole. anyway, we were getting tired and sticky and hungry and started heading toward the exit. as bink began to swing the pendant around he shouted, "I DON'T WANT PEACE AND HARMONY, DAMMIT, I WANT WISDOM!!!" and smashed it against a bicycle rack. the pendant split in two and bink was suddenly quite sad.

i squatted down to his eye level and said, "here is wisdom: learn from this, quit complaining, and help me find the krazy glue when we get home."