Posted on 06/10/2002 9:13:28 PM PDT by 2Trievers
Elementary, My Dear Watson
“It's under investigation,” says a Bob Watson spokesman to MSNBC the day after Roger Clemens did what a lot of National League pitchers have probably wanted to do Sunday: nail Barry Bonds. “We’re going to take a look at the tapes and the umpire’s report to evaluate the situation.”
The situation is this: Clemens treated Bonds to a little elbow macaroni in Sunday's interleague game between the San Francisco Giants and the New York Yankees. The Yankee righthander had been asked a week earlier about Bonds's comment last year about looking forward to facing The Rocket, and Clemens had said he planned to introduce himself to Bonds's now-infamous elbow armour.
"He's right up on top of the plate," Clemens said after the game (the Yankees won, 4-2). "That elbow guard is almost sticking in the zone." Almost, he says. Bonds has become one of the more notorious plate-crowders in the game. (I had formerly thought otherwise, but seeing enough of his at-bats in various clips and games tells me otherwise now.) Aside from Bonds getting the waiver to wear that elbow guard, the question before the house ought to be what on earth did Clemens do wrong?
We are not talking about him heaving that jagged-ended bat barrel at Mike Piazza during the 2000 World Series, a heave which probably made Clemens heave over the $50,000 fine assessed by Watson's predecessor as baseball's top cop, Frank Robinson. We are talking about a pitcher doing what pitchers from time immemorial did, at least until the hitters began whining and baseball's governors began thinking no one would watch baseball unless it was a slugging free-for-all: moving the batter back off the plate.
I looked it up. Bob Watson got plunked 48 times in his own 19-year playing career. He got off easy compared to his predecessor. Frank Robinson (who practically pitched a tent on the plate) got nailed 198 times in his 21-year career. It sure never seemed to bother him; he had the reputation that, if you played him a little chin music, he would just pick himself up, dust off, and send your next pitch into the next ZIP code. He didn't go running to the nearest league cop shop kvetching about why don't you do something about those damn headhunters.
This is brilliant. Bonds himself was not even looking for a cop. Giant manager Dusty Baker was more bothered about Clemens and the Yankees putting Bonds on first intentionally in the game than about Clemens bouncing one off Bonds's elbow armour.
And Watson could well enough have a major burden on his back soon enough with the Kickapoo Joy Juice snaking around baseball; assuming the governors of baseball wise up on the matter, Watson might end up the point man for rousting the roids. So why on earth is one of his prime worries whether or not Roger Clemens committed a premeditated plunking against Barry Bonds?
It is one thing to question the intentional passes. Many have. Joe Morgan, broadcasting the Atlanta-Texas game for ESPN, was talking his baseball-is-entertainment line against the intentional passing epidemic (real or imagined) against Bonds, and to a point he has a point. Yankee manager Joe Torre had made it plain enough that if the game was close he was not going to let Bonds get an advantage, especially with rather limpen-of-late protection behind him in the Giant lineup.
But questioning Clemens for moving Bonds back off the plate is elementary, my dear Watson. Back off yourself. Unless you want a game in which hitters face not pitchers but pitching machines (on the other hand, I can think of a couple of teams whose pitching machines have better ERAs than their human pitching staffs), you do not need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that pitchers around the National League are probably preparing to give Clemens a medal.
And Bonds knows it. That smirk he flashed should have told it all. Power respecting power. This wasn't trying to shish kebab Mike Piazza. This was a pitcher settling an ancient question of balance in an ancient and long-honoured manner. Watson played the game long enough to know better.
The Wisdom Of Our Ancestors
All these pitchers we have. I see them with their lovely wives and their lovely children. Oh, grand children. So they go out there to pitch, and here is the batter. Ohhh, he digs right in there and he swings that bat and he has a wonderful toehold. And our pitchers, they say they won't throw at him. They say you have to think of the lovely wife and children the batter has. Well, some of these pitchers of mine ought to think about their own children. That batter up there doesn't care about them. He's in there to take the food right off the table from the pitcher's children. These fellows of mine, they better start thinking about their own lovely children and move that batter back off the plate a little. - Casey Stengel, New York Mets manager, 1962.
©2002 Jeff Kallman
No Way, Jose?
Jose Canseco has upped the proverbial ante. He no longer minds if you know without paying that Thomas Boswell was right. But he will be damned if he drops a dime on anyone else, even those he might claim he supplied with The Stuff, without getting sacks of dollars to drop those dimes.
Twelve or thirteen years ago, Boswell suggested Canseco was already taking the Kickapoo Joy Juice. From perhaps the most respected baseball columnist in American newspapers other than Jim Murray or Red Smith, that suggestion brough Canseco a rather mild swell of abuse. Maybe the worst of it was the Fenway Park faithful massaging him with a taunting chant of Sterrrrr-oiiiiids! Sterrrrr-oiiiiids! during a 1990 American League Championship Series game.
Big whoop. Boswell caught hell just enough that it seemed his well and long-enough developed reputation would be hit ten miles over the fence. Even in 1990, Jose Canseco was not necessarily viewed as a sterling citizen. But for a short but long enough while you would have believed Boswell had called for either a president's assassination or a dome stadium to replace Wrigley Field.
Now, Canseco admits he put a tiger in his tank, after all. Nice of him to wait a mere twelve years or so to take Boswell off the hook. But do not expect Boswell to invite the former Bash Brother to introduce his next collection.
Maybe I am somewhat off base here, but there remains a question of motive and credibility. Canseco was a player who raised the bar for jerkdom among baseball's elite, and he had the concurrent chutzpah to give off every possible sense that baseball, in his addled mind, had done him dirty.
His once-luminous career had gone on a long, not too slow descent; he had no major league job after the 2001 season but he was by God entitled to his rightful crack at a Hall of Fame credential, he said in effect. (He wanted to hang just enough to get that 500th career home run. That's the old team spirit.) The Montreal Expos may have needed or wanted even a shaft of marquee value under a contraction threat. They invited him to spring training, but he was good enough only to draw interest as a part time player. He got a chance from there to try working his way up the system back to the Chicago White Sox, his 2001 team, but hitting half his weight with a distinct power outage meant the end.
First, his agent related in early May, he took stock and decided priorities beyond punching his presumed Hall of Fame ticket - like his little daughter, specifically - had to be met. Jose Canseco was retired.
Then, barely a fortnight later, Canseco made it known he was ready to drop The Big One: a memoir in which he would reveal the skinny on the roids, as in 85 percent of major leaguers filling up with hi-test. He did not, underline that, say a word then about whether or not he was loose with the juice.
Barely a fortnight after that came Sports Illustrated's own Big One: there is a steroid presence in the Old Ball Game, all right - the National League's 1996 Most Valuable Player, Ken Caminiti, admitting he got loose with the juice earlier that season, over concern about a shoulder injury. He retracted his original guesstimate of 50 percent of players rolling the roids quickly enough ("I wanted to make myself feel good for doing something bad"). But he had no apparent or imagined score to settle. He retired right after the 2001 season; he was a recovering alcoholic who probably turned to cocaine in a funk of depression (said to be one side or after-effect of steroid abuse); he blamed no one but himself for his tribulations.
And he was not even thinking about hawking a memoir.
By the time the print edition of the Sports Illustrated Big One hit the racks, Internet-published sidebars and stories advancing the edition made the awkward Caminiti into a confessional hero. "I'm at the point...where I've done just about every bad thing you can do," he told the magazine. "I try to walk with my head up. I don't have to hold my tongue. I don't want to hurt teammates or friends. But I've got nothing to hide."
Now, not even a fortnight after the Caminiti revelation, Canseco was in the news again. His literary agent told the Wall Street Journal that oh, boy, was he going to fatten the calf. A general translation, according to an awful lot of sports talk radio shows after the Journal story emerged 7 June, wrings out like this: He sure did do the roids, just like the rumours had it lo those years ago; he even bragged about it to any of the guys who were interested. This is how I hit those ICBM-punt home runs! Wanna give it a try? No problemo - I'll get you the stuff.
And now, he was going to write The Bigger One: he was going to own up to his own juicery, then he was going to kick ass and name names, as they like to say on the playground or among the mall rat linguists.
But would he publish it? Publisher's Row may well let Canseco's credibility gaps keep it from doing much more than just discussing the prospective memoir. But whether Canseco gets to drop his dimes for fun and profit, baseball does still have a fine mess it has gotten itself into. Sports Illustrated did what he may not be able to do, and they did it without just naming names and letting the bone chips fall where they might.
If I said this before, no apologies: Baseball's chickens are coming home to roost.
The governors of the game misinterpreted the audience they had, pursuing the audience that prefers the immediate and preferably fast and hard thrill to the measured nuances and balances that make the game. They put their thumbs on one side of the scale and made it plain enough, long enough before the "explosion" of the post-strike 1990s, that baseball's meal ticket was offence, the more explosive the merrier. To the bombers went the spoils.
They had refused longer still to make any strong obstruction to the roids despite the consequences of their abuse being known enough, thanks to the earlier scandals involving the Olympics and the National Football League. And they still expected players to resist temptation, when they were making kazillionaires of the long bombers and acting as though the short-range fighters or depth-charge throwers were necessary evils?
They may yet make a liar out of Sparky Anderson. "We try every way we can to kill this game," said the master of the double negative once, "but for some reason nothing nobody does never hurts it." Not no more.
Meanwhile, Back In The Jungle...
Hit Records? - Speculate as you will about just which names Jose Canseco might drop. The question before the house: Should any records set or broken by any of the roid-oids be asterisked or disappeared? The answer from this apartment: It would be tempting to say that that should not even be a topic.
The too-long lack of testing or even sound and set policy on steroids or human growth hormone is as good as major league baseball saying it's just all right with us. If there were any records set or broken by juicers - assuming the evidence, not just a Canseco say-so or other innuendo, proves it was so - they were done so under conditions baseball's governors treated as de facto acceptable.
That may not mean the records being asterisked or disappeared. But it does mean a tainted era that imposes a stain on all the players who play the game without the roids - as several players have in fact said forcefully enough.
And if baseball's governors as now constituted care anything for the great and glorious game, the men who play it, and the people who love it, they will set about soon enough (but, hopefully, with prudence and fairness) toward cleaning and disappearing that stain.
Who Do You Trust? - It is said the owners want testing but the Players' Association does not. "We're going to do what the interest of our membership requires us to do. There will be a consensus from the players' association," said union associate general counsel Gene Orza to Sports Illustrated.
That consensus may prove more broad than anyone thinks. A-Rod himself and Gary Sheffield have joined the consensus. "Some guys are obvious. Some aren't," said Sheffield to Baseball Weekly. "But let's test. Unless you've got something to hide, you won't mind testing, right?" Give him his props, the lad is growing up.
But there will be harsh rivers still to cross. "The problem is, when you're dealing with the amount of distrust between owners and players, it can be seen as another tool to manipulate the system," said Curt Schilling, one of the first and most outspoken supporter/advocates of steroid testing, to SI. "Say a team signs a guy to a long contract, and then the team doesn't like the guy. Maybe they show you he tested positive, and all of a sudden the contract is null and void. When you're dealing with mistrust, it becomes tricky."
Burning Wood - When you think about baseball's cheaters, try to put this into the perspective: As a rule, they do not tend to obliterate records, and they do tend to falter in the aftermath of their highest performance level or recognition - largely through carelessness, but often as not by natural causes.
Then, there is the case of Norm Cash. He won the American League's batting title in 1961, and he was the league leader in on-base percentage and times on base in the bargain. Over the winter following, Stormin' Norman admitted he corked his bat and used it during 1961 (it was his career year among several very good seasons for the Detroit Tigers). He even wrote a magazine article in which he demonstrated how he did it.
Cash then played his 1962 season with the same bat, only to see practically all his offencive stats shrink dramatically. He even batted 118 points lower than his league-leading 1961 average.
Style and Guile - George, if I get the umpires to check Sutton, don't you know that the Angels are going to check TJ? They'll both get kicked out. Whatever they're doing, TJ is doing it better than Sutton. So let's leave it alone for now. - Then-New York Yankee manager Lou Piniella, on the dugout phone in Anaheim to George Steinbrenner, who was watching this 24 August 1987 game on television in Tampa, spotted evidence that Don Sutton - usually careful with his cutlery - was doctoring the ball, and wanted Piniella to protest.
The Old Smoothies - On the other hand, Damned Yankees authors Bill Madden and Moss Klein quoted an unnamed major league scout who had watched the same game: Tommy John against Don Sutton. If anyone can find one smooth ball from that game, they ought to send it to Cooperstown. Well, they did the next best thing: they sent Sutton himself - he was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1998.
©2002 Jeff Kallman
That doesn't make it less true.
Excepting the fact that currently they are an Illegal (in most cases) substance, why? Science is science. Weather its puting 50 lbs. on Barry Bonds, or Making Nascar vehicles 2 seconds faster per lap, the choice to excel is in the hands of the individual athlete.
For instance. Suppose then, steroids are banned by the league. Then A really cagey player decides toward the end of the season, when he is run down and tired to have his body chemistry checked, and is found to be testosterone deficient. The only cure for that, is, testosterone injections. (or simpler) If the Athlete had Aids same treatment....Would his Job be denied, because of the prescribed medical treatment?
I really don't think it should matter.Not morally, not for the (ha ha ) "purity" of the Sport, as long as the league is willing to allow radically altered ball fields, and manipulate the height of the pitchers mound for a desired outcome, an athlete should be able to, should he so desire, push himself BEYOND his genetic limitations, if that is indeed his desire...(I am not advocating full blown WWF style obvious Abuse....I mean look at HHH, the guy is 275, and shredded to the bone, ALL THE TIME....that is just not humanly possible....)....I am talking about Baseball as it currently exists....Frown on it perhaps, keep it under control, but really, why should it matter?
I am not positing so much about parks that favor hitters/or pitchers, but the really bizzarre ones, like the Hill and flagpole in centerfield....For instance (Cinci?? I forget,) Or oddly shaped corners and outfield fences...And even that crappy Ivy in wrigley, that eats balls. That is NOT baseball, that's cartoonish crap.
If the former, he could very well obtain medical treatment with no prospective loss of playing time or playing employment;
that's my point. If so, then HE would be on Testosterone injections, Giving him a solo advantage...Also as I pointed out yesterday, Abuse, of anything, but especially this thing, is a bad thing. We agree, I am talking aobut careful, sensible,(in the maner for which it was invented) use. Personally I have no problem If Bond, or Soso, or McGwire put on all that muscle, using. If on Steroids, he was putting on 54 Lbs in 4 years, that is not indicative of abuse. Just use. No big deal.
But,(legality aside...) Baseball rusbhing into a ban would be total hypocrisy, considering the flagrant things that are allowed by MLB right now. How many years did maddux and Glavine (who will reside in Cooperstown as a result) get 6 additional inches off the outside of the plate? , Or How about Roger Clemens, announcing he's going to plunk Bonds on the Elbow, Doing it in a game, and not Meriting an Ejection or a Suspension(SB 5 Starts IMHO, because it was more than intentional), I do agree with Footballs ban, because the need for size lends itself to abuse., but I think Baseballs current situation is adequate, and would like to see MLB enforcing the rules it already has (except the ridiculous retaliation rule, which lends stregnth to scummy little Headhunters like Clemens...) before it goes looking for new worlds to conquer.
IF a Pitcher wants to brush a guy back, I ahve no problem with that, that's Baseball, but going upstairs, should also merit suspension, If you don't have the control to Plunk someone without possibly killing them, don't.
It was too Sweet, to see Estes and Piazza, Both take Clemens out of the park on Saturday, and after Being in the Batters box, He didn't look too much look a guy that had won his last (7 of 8 ?) starts...Even negelecting to cover Home plate with a man on second and the catcher coming upfield....( I see guys cover home in Softball for crying out loud....)
This accomplishes several things. 1. The umpires will immediately, given the history of the two teams, issue the appropriate warnings, thus you protect your best hitter, before he gets to the plate, secondarily, you also take the Inside to a degree, away from Clemens, tilting the edge, to Piazza, and your Pitcher, in the Head to Head... Thirdly, (almost as an added Bonus, it'll keep Jeter from taking off every time he gets to first.
Secondarily, a lefty in the three hole is a little better, bc He has 2 setup men in front of him, and may get an extra at bat...Cleanup is overrated(esp when the team isn't hitting...)
Lastly You drill Jeter, because he will be up in the Bottom of the first, and that will garner the umps warnings, taking the inside away from Clemens Immediately.
It's pretty hard to be effective, when your bread and butter could get you tossed.
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