By Diane M. Grassi
“See the USA in your Chevrolet…,” was once as much a theme song for the American leisure lifestyle as it was an advertisement for one of General Motor’s (GM) most celebrated automobiles. And not to be overlooked is the relationship that the auto industry, and more specifically GM, has forged with Major League Baseball (MLB) over the past many decades.
The news came to me earlier this week, washed up debris within the daily flood of Internet information. Eric Chavez, plagued by injuries in recent years, could be on the verge of retiring. I was momentarily stunned, recalling the brilliant young third-baseman who the A’s preferred keeping over Miguel Tejada, a silky smooth fielder who could slide to stop a line drive with detached ease. Chavez tantalized with Hall of Fame talent, combining thunderous power at the plate with a keen eye. He was delivering, before being derailed. Luck plays a part in the formation of long lasting stars, and Chavez faded far too quickly. My mind considered the similar fate of Mark Mulder, a supremely gifted left-handed ace. Mulder possessed the icy mound presence of Tom Glavine, could make his pitches dart with precision. After being dealt by the A’s to the Cardinals, Mulder was devastated by arm woes, intermittently appearing in recent seasons, he too a burnt bulb.
“Everything passes, everything changes, just do what you think you should do.” – Bob Dylan, — To Ramona
The blank page is a void we must fill.
The empty stadium is a palace we must glorify.
The abandoned, snow-dusted field is just cause for melancholy.
I saw a great movie once, one line always stuck out, more than the others. “Nature’s cruel, Staros.”
Nature’s cruel. The two characters talking represent the dualistic nature of man. Yeah, two thumbs up.
By Diane M. Grassi
Upon the release of new and unprecedented regulations and mandates prescribed for all Major League Baseball (MLB) certified bat manufacturers on December 15, 2008, no attention was garnered by the mainstream media at the time. As such, a disservice was done to these unheralded craftsmen who largely for the past decade have been trying to compete with the behemoth Hillerich & Bradsby Company, the manufacturer of the renowned Louisville Slugger.
Of rhythmic strings and a bleeding syringe, baseball is often a paradox. The basic game is regulated chaos, carefully confined performance art often disguised in metaphor by swooning scribes drowning in reverie*. This is a show, a worthwhile exhibition, unrehearsed and unpredictable human drama preferably played out under a blazing sun. If our overall perspective were more precise, the importance of this particular athletic endeavor would be properly measured within a rational context, damn good entertainment, and nothing more. Alas… there are heroes to deify and villains to crucify, a snap response to the unavoidable entwinement of sports and reality. And while newspaper columnists breathe fire from a disintegrating perch, our heads are left spinning. There is a point they are missing, subtle and beyond their indignation, except we ourselves are unable to articulate it. All we know is… as they instruct us to wallow in pointless anger and meaningless disgust; the grief never touches the game. And that is the point.
It’s the game.
It was Nas who once said, “It’s a dirty game, is any man worthy of fame?” You could argue whether or not Nas has ever lived up to the amazing level of potential he exhibited on “Illmatic”, [I kind of want to forget the Escobar era myself] but the brilliance of that line could never be disputed. It is a dirty game. And is any flawed human being really worthy of fame?
Society relishes the defilement of plastic deities. After all, the mob has to feel power over something. Everything else is beyond us… war… the economy… poverty… bailouts… Indignation flies, but it’s fake, and if legitimate, certainly misguided. Flaming pitchforks. Adulation turns poisonous at a moment’s notice. Fame is equal parts a blessing or a burden. It’s complicated, everything is, and we wish it weren’t. So we exercise our defenses, simplify and attack. When the fairy tale doesn’t offer a happy ending, the book is torn to shreds. We find something new to dream on…
By Diane M. Grassi
On January 1, 2009, Major League Baseball (MLB) launched its long awaited Major League Baseball Network (MLBN) on major cable broadcast providers throughout U.S. television markets.
Hailed by MLB itself as a boon to its continued growth, the MLBN hopes to garner $150–$200 million in additional revenue in just its first year of distribution.
And to that end, the MLBN starts right off the bat with a built-in cushion of an instant 50 million television household subscribers or about one third of the cable market share.
by Trevor Freeman
I will be quite honest. I still cannot think rationally when his name pops up. It hurt when Mark McGwire left for St. Louis and it stung when the 49ers shipped Joe Montana to Kansas City. However, those departures will never compare to the way I felt when Jason Giambi signed with the New York Yankees. I can honestly say that it tore the hymen of my sports virginity. It has been quite awhile since I penned an article that did not involve the sport of water polo, but I feel compelled to jump back into the fray with the news that Jason Giambi is on the radar of my beloved Oakland A’s.
Ah, baseball optimism. It springs eternal in those endless, freezing winter months. Here were my prognostications regarding the 2008 Yankees, surely bound for glory, before cruel reality could intervene. Hindsight wisdom located within parenthesis. Special props to Fire Joe Morgan, the forerunners of this journalistic style… I guess. Whatever.
The 2008 sports year has already offered us some unbelievably memorable moments. Here is a list of the top five momnets in sports in 2008.