Jon Gruden insists on Monday Night Football that "this Ben Roethlisberger kid will be OK." Josh Hamilton is called a "hero." Michael Vick is the "feel good story" of the year.
In our efforts to be good sports journalists in an ever increasingly competitive environment, to find stories that are compelling, informative and at the end of the day to find stories that sell, we often flirt with crossing the line between telling a story and making an athlete a hero. In doing so, we glorify the wrong types of athletes. Often one's have done wrong are glorified for their atonement.
The case of Gruden, ESPN and Roethlisberger defies human logic.We've been told that Roethlisberger is a changed man. That's he's on the road to redemption. That, as Gruden said, Big Ben will "be OK." Last summer, Roethlisberger was accused of sexually assaulting a girl in the bathroom of a club. Despite not being convicted, Roethlisberger was suspended for four games by the NFL (reduced from six). Before his first game back, the Steelers' quarterback was interviewed by ESPN's Merril Hodge, who is Roethlisberger's self-proclaimed mentor. During the interview, Big Ben denies assaulting the girl, but says he's a changed man and that the person from the night in question "just wasn't him." Of course, he also found religion again. Which begs the question: if he didn't do anything wrong, why such a need for change, comeback and redemption? There again, that's human logic, not sports logic.
Keep in mind that Hodge doesn't question Roethlisberger, in fact, the interview seemed so contrived, Roethlisberger was almost answering the questions before Hodge asked them, all the while the former Steeler Hodge is nodding his head in agreement.
In this mixed up bout with reality and logic, somehow Roethlisberger ends up the victim. Somehow he's painted as someone who's overcoming. He's the comeback story, he's the underdog who we're being told to celebrate and cheer for. All the while, there's an actual victim: the girl Roethlisberger was accused of assaulting. Unfortunately, she can't throw a football 50 yards or break a tackle.
Back on Earth, humans would normally choose to cheer for someone who hasn't been twice accused of sexual assault and, from what we learned, been an arrogant jerk to fans, media and teammates. Not on Planet Sports, though.
The story of Josh Hamilton is another example of twisted, blurred logic and a "feel good" gone wrong. Hamilton had the world in his palm. An incredibly talented, No. 1 overall Major League Baseball draft pick who was, at 6-foot-4, 235 lbs considered a can't miss. He tossed it down the drain, or rather into his lungs, nose, veins and throat, with drugs abuse and alcoholism. Now, before I go on, I'll first say that it's fantastic that Hamilton is no longer suffering with addiction and was able to win the AL MVP. But, Hamilton is not an underdog or a hero. Yet, those words are tossed about each time a soft feature package about the Rangers' outfielder is made.
These are the features which act as opinion leaders in telling us who we should cheer for and emulate. Maybe I'm being naive, but I'd tell my children to learn from players I've mentioned before on this blog such as David Eckstein and Jim Abbott. Players who persevered despite disadvantages which were out of their control, such as Eckstein's size (5'5, 140) and Abbott being born without a right hand. Hamilton had the world, gave it away, then got it back with a nice smile and a swift swing. We glorify him for not doing drugs, which, as far as I know, there are hundreds of excellent role model athletes who never did drugs, presumably Eckstein and Abbott.
Again, Hamilton's success is good. I'd never root for a player to not succeed because he was once a drug addict, but the message becomes clear: as long as you perform, you are free of responsibility for your past and are, in fact, a hero.
(Though I would like to add that when commentators say "he's never been arrested" about black or mulatto players like Terrell Owens or Derek Jeter, that's despicable and racist. Someone not being arrested should be the norm. Plus, I've never heard that said about Tim Tebow)
Now, about Mike Vick. The Eagles' quarterback, who was imprisoned for cruelty to animals, is now a hero. Vick made his comeback last year, and spoke for the Humane Society last year and spoke to schools last year and was humble last year and was a good teammate last year, but last year, very few were making him into a hero. Very few were begging for his forgiveness as ESPN columnist Rick Reilly did this week. Reilly said, "The man reinvented himself into a wonder, both in his uniform and out. He has seen how wrong he was. He's sorry. He's making amends." Notice the mention of his on-field success.
I feel good that Vick has brought himself back from a very dark place, but a man who spends two years in prison for feeling invincible, who then can have the sports world beg fans to forgive him based on humility (which should have been there in the first place) and 11 touchdowns, is not someone I'd label a hero. But Reilly almost does. He said that because new laws have been passed since Vick's imprisonment, that the Eagles' quarterback's murder of dogs was in a way, good. That is ABSURD. That defies every ounce of logic we humans on this planet have been instilled with.
Am I glad that Martin Luther King Jr. was thrown in jail because the Birmingham letters came out of it? Am I glad Ghandi nearly died during his Salt March? Should I cheer for the school who would not allow Homer Plessy to go to school with white kids because it eventually was overturned? OK, then I will go ahead and think that companies who abused their workers in the early 1900s were good because their abuse led to anti-trust laws and unions.
Again, I have nothing against Vick and am glad things have turned around and he isn't killing dogs anymore. But my goodness, Ravens' lineman Matt Birk works tirelessly to assist former NFL players in need, even encouraging players to donate game checks, and he isn't given anywhere near the praise Vick is. Where it goes wrong, as you can see in Reilly's column, isn't the praise of Vick's on-field play but Vick himself as a "feel good" story. I don't feel good about a man not killing dogs.
But, as we've seen from the Derek Jeter contract situation, the mainstream media seems to make up its mind and dissenters get ripped or are ignored. I understand they want what sells, but when you cross the line of a "good story" and begin disingenuously attempting to force viewers/readers to believe certain athletes are heroes or are deserving of praise for overcoming their self-inflicted wounds, that's when you enter Planet Sports, where rhetoric rules over human logic.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
My Favorite Baseball Player Pt. 2
Since I was motivated by a Retweet of my "My Favorite Player" post by an editor of a respected baseball publication, I decided to give it another go. In fact, I may give it several go's because, well, there's only so many posts I can write complaining about sac bunting or naming awful players who won big games. So, my second favorite baseball player of all-time is Jim Abbott. Here's why:
Several moments in my sports watching/casting/writing life have made me think, "if there was ever a moment to cry with tears of joy like a father at his daughter's wedding, now would be it." One of those moments involved then New York Yankees pitcher Jim Abbott.
Before I get there, it must be pointed out that Abbott has one arm. He was like sharp shooter who has one eye or a long jumper with half a foot. It seemed a physical enigma. How can he field? Why don't they just bunt? Simple (sort of): he put the glove on his nub then quickly slipped his hand in post-delivery. Incredible as it is to even field the ball, Abbott was an above average fielder. During his career, his range factor per nine innings was higher than the league average, as was his fielding percentage. In 254 starts and 381 total chances, he made nine errors and turned 16 double plays.
Abbott even managed two hits in 21 at-bats during his one season with Milwaukee. He also drove in three runs.*
Of Abbott's accomplishments, which include being elected into the College Baseball Hall of Fame and finishing third in the Cy Young Award voting in 1991, his most notable came on Sept. 4, 1993 against the Cleveland Indians. Abbott threw a no-hitter.
I'm not old enough to say I remember every pitch. I'm not old enough to remember anything about Cleveland's starting right fielder that day Candy Maldonado, but I do remember being in absolute awe of Jim Abbott. There's nothing like the tension of the last pitch of a no-hitter, but No. 119 of the day for Abbott was a little different. It seemed like there was more on the line. That everything Jim had ever come up against was about to be knocked down with one pitch. I don't know that I've cheered as hard to someone to succeed since pitch No. 119 or that I ever will cheer harder than I did for Jim Abbott. I don't recall the celebration, probably because I was too busy celebrating myself. Celebrating for a man that didn't allow his disadvantage to be one, and celebrating the idea that anything is possible.*
*Jim Abbott bunted three times
**I don't care if that was cliche, it's true
Several moments in my sports watching/casting/writing life have made me think, "if there was ever a moment to cry with tears of joy like a father at his daughter's wedding, now would be it." One of those moments involved then New York Yankees pitcher Jim Abbott.
Before I get there, it must be pointed out that Abbott has one arm. He was like sharp shooter who has one eye or a long jumper with half a foot. It seemed a physical enigma. How can he field? Why don't they just bunt? Simple (sort of): he put the glove on his nub then quickly slipped his hand in post-delivery. Incredible as it is to even field the ball, Abbott was an above average fielder. During his career, his range factor per nine innings was higher than the league average, as was his fielding percentage. In 254 starts and 381 total chances, he made nine errors and turned 16 double plays.
Abbott even managed two hits in 21 at-bats during his one season with Milwaukee. He also drove in three runs.*
Of Abbott's accomplishments, which include being elected into the College Baseball Hall of Fame and finishing third in the Cy Young Award voting in 1991, his most notable came on Sept. 4, 1993 against the Cleveland Indians. Abbott threw a no-hitter.
I'm not old enough to say I remember every pitch. I'm not old enough to remember anything about Cleveland's starting right fielder that day Candy Maldonado, but I do remember being in absolute awe of Jim Abbott. There's nothing like the tension of the last pitch of a no-hitter, but No. 119 of the day for Abbott was a little different. It seemed like there was more on the line. That everything Jim had ever come up against was about to be knocked down with one pitch. I don't know that I've cheered as hard to someone to succeed since pitch No. 119 or that I ever will cheer harder than I did for Jim Abbott. I don't recall the celebration, probably because I was too busy celebrating myself. Celebrating for a man that didn't allow his disadvantage to be one, and celebrating the idea that anything is possible.*
*Jim Abbott bunted three times
**I don't care if that was cliche, it's true
Friday, November 19, 2010
My Favorite Baseball Player
Yesterday, I discussed on Twitter how we (journalists/fans) determine our favorite baseball players and athletes. We're talking about the players who make us love baseball; the types of players who make us light up with more cliches than Monday Night Football. Every time I went on the hunt for criteria for my favorite players, I found myself in a soupy mess of "plays with heart" and "overcame the odds." I tip-toed around the word "hustle" and nearly nuzzled up to "gives 100 percent." Channeling Johnny Cash, I asked myself "what have I become?"
So, I set out on a quest (a quest can take less than 20 minutes, can't it?) to find my favorite baseball player of all-time without citing a single cliche.
My favorite baseball player is David Eckstein. (I know what you are thinking: Impossible! No freekin' way on this planet you can say David Eckstein is your favorite player without saying "heart," "hustle," or "overcome adversity." You can't avoid "he's a winner" and "leader in the clubhouse.") Nevertheless, here's my explanation:
Eckstein was done. Career over. Minor Leaguer for life or real estate salesman. He was 25-years old and was waived by the Boston Red Sox after never appearing in a major league game. At the time he was let go, Eckstein was hitting .246 with an OPS under .700 in 119 games with Pawtucket. He was picked up by the Angels, where in 15 games in triple-A where he put up three home runs, eight doubles and an OPS that would make Albert Pujols blush. Eckstein made the roster in 2001 and went on to win the World Series in '02 and '06, where he won the series MVP.
Before you say "small sample size," in those 15 games that determined his successful career, hear me out. There was a time where I felt it was time to quit. My college coach said I had great stuff and control, but couldn't throw hard enough to get hitters out (low 80s on a good day) and he refused to put me in. Of course, it was more complicated than that, but the bottom line was that after my freshman season, I walked away from baseball.
While I don't regret moving on and working tirelessly on my career in sports writing and broadcasting, I understand Eckteins position. Where I walked away, Eckstein excelled in his final shot at ever being a Major League Baseball player. While I'm sure there are 10,000 statisticians who would argue (and logically prove) that Eckstein's fork-in-the-road 15 games and his World Series numbers are nothing more than a fleeting hot streak, I can't help but believe Eckstein found/finds a place that those less determined and committed can not.
*please feel free to point out that David Eckstein is well-known for sacrifice bunting
So, I set out on a quest (a quest can take less than 20 minutes, can't it?) to find my favorite baseball player of all-time without citing a single cliche.
My favorite baseball player is David Eckstein. (I know what you are thinking: Impossible! No freekin' way on this planet you can say David Eckstein is your favorite player without saying "heart," "hustle," or "overcome adversity." You can't avoid "he's a winner" and "leader in the clubhouse.") Nevertheless, here's my explanation:
Eckstein was done. Career over. Minor Leaguer for life or real estate salesman. He was 25-years old and was waived by the Boston Red Sox after never appearing in a major league game. At the time he was let go, Eckstein was hitting .246 with an OPS under .700 in 119 games with Pawtucket. He was picked up by the Angels, where in 15 games in triple-A where he put up three home runs, eight doubles and an OPS that would make Albert Pujols blush. Eckstein made the roster in 2001 and went on to win the World Series in '02 and '06, where he won the series MVP.
Before you say "small sample size," in those 15 games that determined his successful career, hear me out. There was a time where I felt it was time to quit. My college coach said I had great stuff and control, but couldn't throw hard enough to get hitters out (low 80s on a good day) and he refused to put me in. Of course, it was more complicated than that, but the bottom line was that after my freshman season, I walked away from baseball.
While I don't regret moving on and working tirelessly on my career in sports writing and broadcasting, I understand Eckteins position. Where I walked away, Eckstein excelled in his final shot at ever being a Major League Baseball player. While I'm sure there are 10,000 statisticians who would argue (and logically prove) that Eckstein's fork-in-the-road 15 games and his World Series numbers are nothing more than a fleeting hot streak, I can't help but believe Eckstein found/finds a place that those less determined and committed can not.
*please feel free to point out that David Eckstein is well-known for sacrifice bunting
Friday, November 12, 2010
Sir, May I Ask Why You Are Bunting?
First and second base occupied, nobody out in the third inning, top of the order coming up and the pitcher's on the ropes. Nobody's scored yet; this could be the inning where the whole thing blows up. Presumably your top on-base guys are coming up. What now? Be afraid. Though the pitcher is actually the one who is scared out of his mind, you, the hitting team's manager are actually the one scared out of his mind. How do I know? You freekin' bunt. You give up a chance at a putting up crooked numbers in order to stay out of a double play and give your team a chance to score one run on a sacrifice fly or two on a hit.
If your pitcher was at the plate, by all means, do your thing. But, we'll so often find good hitters, even Hall of Fame level hitters asked to bunt in the most bizarre situations just to stay out of the double play.
Poor souls like Honus Wagner, who once laid down 27 sac bunts in a year in which he had a .909 OPS. With that we look at one of the better young hitters who has been victimized by their manager's fear, Asdrubal Cabrera:
At the ripe old age of 24, Cabrera has already sacrificed 37 times. During his early career, he's hit into 38 double plays. More importantly, the Indians' infielder has hit 87 doubles, more than twice the number of double plays he's hit into. He's also walked 132 times. The breakdown comes out something like this: Cabrera hits into a double play once every 44 times he comes to the plate, walked once every 12 and hit a double once every 19 times he stepped up. Yet, he's called upon to lay down a bunt once every 44 times or around 10 games, because he could hit into a double play once every 10 games.
The numbers that illustrate the insanity of having Cabrera bunt reside in his averages with runners on base:
Men on base - .831 OPS, 49 doubles. Man on first base - .900 OPS, 90 hits, 24 GIDP. Men on first and second - .836 OPS, 31 hits, six GIDP.
To add insult to stupidity, Cabrera has the same OPS against ground ball pitchers as he does fly ball pitchers, so nobody can say, "well, (insert Derek Lowe or who the heck ever) gets a lot of double plays.)
Most of Cabrera's DPs have been on the first pitch. My suggestion: miss on purpose, then hit a double.
If your pitcher was at the plate, by all means, do your thing. But, we'll so often find good hitters, even Hall of Fame level hitters asked to bunt in the most bizarre situations just to stay out of the double play.
Poor souls like Honus Wagner, who once laid down 27 sac bunts in a year in which he had a .909 OPS. With that we look at one of the better young hitters who has been victimized by their manager's fear, Asdrubal Cabrera:
At the ripe old age of 24, Cabrera has already sacrificed 37 times. During his early career, he's hit into 38 double plays. More importantly, the Indians' infielder has hit 87 doubles, more than twice the number of double plays he's hit into. He's also walked 132 times. The breakdown comes out something like this: Cabrera hits into a double play once every 44 times he comes to the plate, walked once every 12 and hit a double once every 19 times he stepped up. Yet, he's called upon to lay down a bunt once every 44 times or around 10 games, because he could hit into a double play once every 10 games.
The numbers that illustrate the insanity of having Cabrera bunt reside in his averages with runners on base:
Men on base - .831 OPS, 49 doubles. Man on first base - .900 OPS, 90 hits, 24 GIDP. Men on first and second - .836 OPS, 31 hits, six GIDP.
To add insult to stupidity, Cabrera has the same OPS against ground ball pitchers as he does fly ball pitchers, so nobody can say, "well, (insert Derek Lowe or who the heck ever) gets a lot of double plays.)
Most of Cabrera's DPs have been on the first pitch. My suggestion: miss on purpose, then hit a double.
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