Please, please

I know it's only sports and there's a debate on that may well decide the final fate of our country, of our little experiment in constitutional democracy. 

There are more important things. To others. Including me.

I remember going to Wrigley Field as a youngster with a busload of Swedes from the Vikings' Club, giddy on morning herring, and highballs and Bloody Marys (the adults, not me), heckling passers-by (again the adults, not me) en route to another Cubs' loss.

I remember watching at my grandparents' house in Blue Island as Jack Brickhouse called Ernie Banks's 500th home run.

I remember 1969, 1984, 1989, 2015, and especially 2003.

I remember my Grandpa and his 60+ years of loyalty and sadness ("those damn Cubs") and my Dad and his 70+ years of anticipation and delusion. 

Please, please. Just this once. Let the little guy, the underdog, the endurer of 108 years of misery and frustration and ultimately false hope, come out on top.

photo from http://cdn9.whiskeyriff.com

Go Cubs Go.

Throw Away the Key

I admit it, Alex Rodriquez duped me.

At a time when others were perjuring themselves (Rafeal Palmerio, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens) or simply stonewalling (Mark McGwire), Rodriquez seemingly took the high road. He admitted that, while playing for the Texas Rangers, he had used PEDs. And I, for one, applauded him for his honesty.

Turns out, it was just a smokescreen.

Ryan Braun, on the other hand, I was on to all along.

Now Major League Baseball has a second chance to get it right with Braun and Rodriguez and all the other cheaters who were obtaining PEDs including testosterone and human chorionic gonadotropin (HCG), from the now-defunct Biogenesis of America clinic in Florida.

It has apparently cut a deal with Tony Bosch, the founder of Biogenesis, to provide direct information linking many players to PEDs obtained from his "wellness clinic." MLB seemingly learned its lesson from the botched drug samples that were the basis of Braun's prior suspension and has been taking its time in investigating Biogenesis, its links to players and agents, and convincing Bosch (who previously denied that his clinic provided PEDs) that it is in his best interest, and perhaps only alternative, to name names.

One can only hope that they've gotten it right this time and that Bosch comes through with truthful information. And that the suspensions of Rodriguez and Braun and others who cheated will be severe. And that Braun and Rodriquez and others who will undoubtedly appeal whatever suspension are handed out will not benefit from some whacky arbitrator's imaginative decision.

Meanwhile, we wait with baited breath for the latest spin that Braun and his lawyers and agents, and Rodriguez and whoever is still clinging by their fingernails to his faded career and legacy, will put on the story.

What will Mr. Innocent come up with this time?
(photo from The Washington Post)

Braun's statement last night after the Brewers' game, after saying he would not address the issue: "The truth has not changed." To which one is tempted to reply: "Precisely. Just like the drug test results didn't change when they were thrown out on a technicality."

Time to Even it Up?

What I kind of remember about 1968:

The USS Pueblo.

My Lai.

The Chicago Democratic Convention.

What I remember about 1968:

Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination.

Tommie Smith and John Carlos.

What happened in 1968 that is still so clear it's like it happened yesterday:

Bobby Kennedy's assassination.

The World Series.

It's hard to convey to anyone born decades later than me how crazy it was to be a 10-year-old in 1968. Everything seemed relatively safe in my sleepy little Michigan town. Until "everything" started to explode.  Dr. King, the Olympics, the riots, the election, the Chicago cops. Who could you trust? Where was it safe? 

I watched most of the 1968 World Series at school. Not on my tablet. Not on my i-phone. On a grainy black and white t.v. in my school cafeteria. I hung with every pitch and at-bat, as did my classmates, Detroit, and most of the Mitten State.

The Tigers helped everyone forget, for a while anyway, the turmoil that was 1968. It brought together a  city and a state torn apart by race, by inequality, by war. And it allowed all of us, for at least seven magical games, to think about something simple - competition. And to collectively succeed at something when success at anything seemed impossible.

Baseball was my sport as a kid. It was the only sport I played as an organized competition and the one I followed more than any other as a fan. I still have my baseball card collection. I can still name the starting nine of the Tigers that year (from memory, without cheating: c Bill Freehan; 1b Norm Cash; 2b Dick McAuliffe; 3b Don Wert; ss Ray Oyler; lf Willie Horton; cf Mickey Stanley; rf Al Kaline/Jim Northrup; pinch-hitter extraordinaire Gates Brown). I remember Denny McLain's 31 wins, and the pitching of Mickey Lolich, and Earl Wilson, and Joe Sparma, and John Hiller.

One of my boyhood heroes.

The Tigers romped through the American League that season, winning the pennant by 12 games. But ahead lay the St. Louis Cardinals and their pitching monster, Bob Gibson. The Tigers went down in the Series 3-1 at a time when only two teams had ever come back from such a deficit to win a seven game series. Gibson was unhittable in Games One and Four, and yet, somehow, a self-described pot bellied, big eared unheralded guy named Mickey stopped him and the Cards in Game Seven to win the Series.

All of this seemed relevant this evening, as I watched the Tigers clinch their 11th American League crown and await their National League opponent, which appears likely, for the fourth time, to be the St. Louis Cardinals. The "Gashouse Gang" Cardinals beat the Bengals in 1934, the Tigers won in '68, and the Cardinals were best again in 2006. It seems time to me to even that scoreline.

The ultimate twist of fate? While this ten year-old was watching the series in his little town in Michigan, rooting for the Tigers, there was a nine year-old girl watching in a small town outside of St. Louis, rooting just as hard for the Cardinals. We have been married now for 30 years. A lesson, perhaps, that sports can divide as well as unite. 

Civics 101

Okay folks, let's get something straight that I thought should have been clear after my post about Ryan Braun.

Most of us likely first learned this in 8th grade Civics class and since then have forgotten, misunderstood, misconstrued, or just plain ignored it. And it is this: "not guilty" does not mean "innocent."

I've been following the criminal trials of sports figures in Pennsylvania and DC with considerable interest over the past few weeks. I would assume that most lawyers, even those with limited criminal law experience (like me) saw the verdict in the Roger Clemens trial coming. The decision to take the Clemens case to trial, in the wake of the debacle of the Barry Bonds trial, was questionable to begin with. That the "star" witness of the government, Brian MacNamee, was a slimy, lying personal trainer/drug dealer didn't help.

The first trial ended by mistrial due to prosecutorial shenanigans that could have ended the case right then and there. Whether by mistake or a conscious decision, the prosecutors showed the jury a video tape that contained testimony that the Judge had already, clearly, ruled was not admissible. If it was a mistake, it was one that, in the words of the presiding Judge, "a first year law student" wouldn't make. If it was intentional, then it evidenced the desperateness with which the prosecution viewed its case. Either way, it wasn't a good sign.

When the Judge ruled that double jeopardy did not attach to the first trial, that the prosecution decided to take a second shot at Clemens was not surprising, but troubling. After seven weeks of laborious testimony the jury found Clemens not guilty. According to one of the jurors interviewed after the trial, the jury didn't believe MacNamee. Surprise!

Predictably, the Clemens verdict was announced as a complete exoneration. Surprisingly, the declaration came not from Clemens (who perhaps has at least learned something about prevarication through this process and merely said that he was grateful to the jurors and glad it was over) but from his grandstanding attorney, Rusty Hardin. After the verdict Hardin proclaimed: “I hope those in the public who made up their minds before there was a trial will now back up and entertain the possibility of what he (Clemens) has always said -- using steroids and HGH is cheating and was totally contrary to his entire career." 

Sorry Rusty, but the bit about steroid use being "totally contrary" to Clemens' career is simply absurd. Everything about Clemens' career, and particularly the dramatic, inexplicable improvement in his performance in his mid-to-late 30's (for example, his ERA at age 33 -- in the 1995 season-- was 4.18; at 34, 2.63; at 35, 2.05; and at 36, 2.65) screams PED use.

The decision of the government to try Clemens not once but twice on a case with flimsy physical evidence (cotton swabs in a beer can? Seriously?) and a reprehensible star witness likely gives Clemens ammunition to proclaim his innocence when staking a claim for election to the Baseball Hall of Fame, something that would likely be unimaginable (see, McGwire, Mark, and Sosa, Sammy) if his lying to Congress had merely been ignored.

Clemens posing with wife Debbie.
She admitted to being injected with HGH. 

Which, of course, may be the other problem. As an officer of the court, I firmly believe that oaths should be taken seriously and those who lie under oath should be punished. But can anyone in the general public get all that worked up about lying to Congress, particularly since people in much higher postiions (i.e., President, Supreme Court Justice) have done it and gotten away with it in the past? And don't even get me started with the propensity of politicians to lie -- there's an entire cottage industry devoted to fact-checking political ads for heaven's sake.

To be honest, my interest in the Roger Clemens perjury trial waxed and waned with its interminability, while that in the Jerry Sandusky case did not, as the prosecution wrapped up its case in less than four days of testimony. The prosecution undoubtedly could have called more witnesses and introduced more physical evidence but likely thought they ran the risk of numbing the jury to the gruesome and overwhelming testimony against Sandusky.

Some were surprised that the jury took as long as it did in deliberation and expressed concern that they might actually be considering a not guilty verdict. I thought at the time (and news articles afterwards have seemed to bear this out) that the jury was simply doing what the judge had instructed them to do: carefully consider the evidence with regard to each and every crime with which Sandusky was charged.

That the jury found Sandusky not guilty on three of the 48 counts against him speaks volumes of the care with which the jury considered the evidence and the charges, and likely makes any potential appeal by Sandusky much more difficult. That one of those counts was one against the unnamed and unidentified child that former Penn State assistant coach Mike McQueary testified about is also damning, as the jurors found his testimony particularly helpful in their overall deliberations, and yet apparently decided that there was not sufficient evidence of a sexual act in that case.

Both in the Clemens and Sandusky trials our system of justice was served. In Clemens case, it probably never should have gotten to that point. But while Sandusky was guilty, over and over again, Clemens was not found innocent. Don't let anyone tell you differently.

Patriotic Correctness Redux

I am not a fan of Ozzie Guillen. Nor of Fidel Castro or Hugo Chavez, despite what some of my more conservative friends may think. And unlike my attitude towards Rick Pitino, I don't see those inclinations changing anytime soon.

Nevertheless, I am perplexed by tone of the criticism by Major League Baseball and head shill Bud Selig (you can add him to that list in the first paragraph as far as I'm concerned too) to a statement that Guillen recently made regarding Castro that led to a five game suspension from his new job as manager of the Miami (formerly Florida) Marlins.

In an interview with Time Magazine, Guillen, who has a notoriously large mouth which one foot or the other often seems to occupy, allegedly made comments that supported Castro. While initially saying that he "love(s) Fidel Castro" even Guillen immediately saw the danger in that comment and amended it somewhat.  "I respect Fidel Castro," Guillen said. "You know why? A lot of people have wanted to kill Fidel Castro for he last 60 years, but that mother____ is still here."

Let me be clear: while I am not privy to Guillen's contract with the Marlins, I assume that the team is perfectly within its rights to suspend him for the comments he made as not in the best interest of the team. In fact, given Guillen's past history of stupid utterances reflecting his homophobia and, indeed, expressing his admiration for Castro, I would be astonished if Guillen's contract did not have a clause allowing him to be disciplined or terminated for comments deemed detrimental to the club.

While Guillen has (unconvincingly) tried to explain his comments by saying that he was thinking in Spanish and talking in English during the interview (so, Spanish for the word "love" really means "hate"?), I think we're missing something a little more fundamental here. 

It's clear that Selig didn't see Guillen's punishment as sufficient to quell the uproar in Miami over his comments. So, instead, he went out of his way to proclaim Guillen's opinions as, essentially, un-American in a transparent attempt to pander to the city's Cuban-American community (and to avoid losing their support at the turnstiles, on which Selig is banking to turn around the moribund franchise and fill its brand-new $515 million ballpark).

In his statement, Selig intoned, in part: "As I have often said, baseball is a social institution with important social responsibilities. All of our 30 Clubs play significant roles within their local communities, and I expect those who represent Major League Baseball to act with the kind of respect and sensitivity that the game's many cultures deserve."

So, basically, whatever your largest potential audience is in any location, pander to them. Only offer opinions with which they agree. And that bit about social responsibilities? Well, as long as the First Amendment isn't included, we're all for them.

Selig's hypocrisy is compounded, of course, by the fact that he took no action, and made no proclamation, about Guillen's comments regarding Castro in 2008. And most significantly, by his own appearance in Havana, seated beside Fidel himself, in 1998 at an Orioles-Cuban All-Star team exhibition.

Orioles owner Peter Angelos, Fidel Castro, and Bud Selig.
I know what you're thinking. It's not Photoshopped.

And so, we have the 2012 Selig, trying to sell tickets in Miami to the Cuban-American community by denouncing Guillen as not meeting MLB's "important social responsibilities" while we gaze at the 1998 version of Selig sitting next to the man Guillen is criticized for admiring. Why? 

Money. It was okay for Bud to sit next to Fidel in 1998 because, well, because Bud thought it the best way for baseball to make a few bucks at the time. And, now, it's okay for Bud to eviscerate Guillen for admiring the man he once sat next to because, well, because Bud thinks that's the best way for baseball to make a few bucks.

At least Joesph McCarthy had an ideological basis for his witch hunt. Trampling an entire nation's First Amendment rights in the name of freedom, while horrifying and divisive, had a patina of patriotism. Selig's trampling of an individual's rights has no such gloss. It's just business as usual for Bud, according to what he believes is best for his business. And if that pesky Constitution gets in the way? Well, just place yourself on the side of "social responsibility" and everything will be fine.