mlb-general
As I thought about ideas for what would be my debut column I thought to myself the worst thing I could do is write about something that every other wannabe and legit sports writer has been writing about over the last few days. I thought long and hard about this and decided to write about it anyway. Mainly because it’s the most talked about topic in sports and because I believe this will be the demise of the Angels (I’ll eat crow here if the Angels pull it out).
A preview of the 2005 MLB playoffs.
The Astros! The Angels! The Cardinals! The White Sox! It’s going to be the best postseason ever!
No, seriously. There’ll be no overwrought, over-hyped, overly-annoying New York vs. Boston drama. No A-rod, no Papi. No Sheffield, no Manny. No constant droning about Bucky Dent or the Curse of the Bambino. No announcers going on and on about “the idiots” or “the boss” or whatever. And no teams that are only here because they had the bucks to buy their way in. All that stuff is so 2004 (and before).
So keep your 86 years. Keep your 26-going-on-27 championships. This year, there’s an entirely different set of numbers that matter.
This was written after my trip to Fenway Park where I was at the July 31st game where Manny Ramirez got a pinch-hit game winning single against the Twins.
The Brooklyn Dodgers were perhaps the most beloved team in all of sports. Their fans were passionate about their “Bums.” To this day the players are recalled by their first names as if they were members of the family. And in a way, they were. What if the great villain Walter O’Malley never brought the team out west?
With yet another epic series between the Yankees and Red Sox looming, it seems to be all anyone is interested in the sport world. We all know these two powerhouses well enough to expect, tense, close baseball games, so needless to say that is the predominant interest for most people as they sit on their couches with remote in hand. However, as a die-hard Met fan, the score is really the last thing I’m interested in.
For more stories by Kent Summer, check out 3rdand10.com
Going into this weekend, the American League has one division that is still up for grabs while the National League’s divisions have been decided. Both league’s wild cards are still open with the Astros and Phillies going at it in the National League and the Yankees, Red Sox, and Indians all battle it out in the A.L.
Without a name given, a glance at a group of Major League Baseball statistics reading, 3,020 hits, 585 doubles, 569 home runs and 1,835 RBIs, will more times than not, trigger a reactionary muttering of three words: “Hall of Fame.”
Assign Rafael Palmeiro’s name to the front of that list and you may hear a much different three words: “Big F-ing Cheater.”
Is there some sort of law I have never heard about that requires every single sports writer to write and talk about steroids?
Sure, it needs to be reported, but to this extent? To the extent that a fart out of Rafael Palmeiro’s butt (or, so I’m told, it is actually coming out of his face, but it smells just as fishy) gets psychoanalyzed on every major sports program non-stop? To the extent that every time Barry Bonds steps, no hobbles, to the plate we have to mention what he may or may not have been doing for the last ten years that was completely legal to use in Major League Baseball? To the extent that every player who hit a walk-off homerun who was 0-4 with three strikeouts before that in the game is automatically a `roids possible by the media?
“I didn’t do it….someone gave it to me…I have no idea how it got there.” Sound like lines from an episode of Law & Order? Not quite, that’s a summary of the responses that Rafael Palmeiro has given regarding the accusations of using steroids and for later testing positive for the illegal susbstance. While I don’t want to jump on the bandwagon of this oversaturated story, I would like to share with you five lessons I learned from Rafael Palmeiro: