Part 6: Antonelli's Road to the Show Hits a Snag

When pitcher Zack Greinke signed a 6-year, $147 million contract with the Los Angeles Dodgers, it was hard not to think about players like Matt Antonelli.

As TV revenues increase and more and more guys like Greinke sign wildly lucrative contracts, you can't blame baseball fans for feeling farther and farther separated from the athletes they support. It's easy to lose sight of the fact that most professional baseball players aren't like Greinke or Alex Rodriguez, C.C. Sabathia, Cole Hamels, Josh Hamilton etc. It's easy to forget that those players are still the exception, not the rule.

Most professional baseball players are like Matt Antonelli.

Antonelli isn't a multi-millionaire. In fact, at the moment he's unemployed. The former 17^th overall pick in 2007 has played 21 major league games – all in 2008 – and 513 minor league games since being selected by the Padres. He was released by San Diego in 2010 after three years of battling injuries. Since, he's played minor league games for the Washington Nationals, Baltimore Orioles and New York Yankees' organizations.

But he hasn't made it back to the majors. Even after hitting .297/.393/.460 in 86 games for the Syracuse Chiefs in 2011, Antonelli wasn't so much as given a September call-up.

Entering last off-season, the Peabody, Mass. native was as healthy as he'd been since 2007 and confident he'd be back in The Show in 2012. His aspiration seemed even more obtainable when the Orioles signed him to a major league contract. Even general manager Dan Duquette's quotes in the team's press release intimated he'd be with the big club.

After 34 at-bats with the O's in spring training, though, he was assigned to Triple-A Norfolk where he expected to be the starting third baseman.

“One of the reasons I came to Baltimore is that I thought I'd have an opportunity hopefully at some point to play in the majors,” Antonelli said over the phone last April after his minor league assignment. “Whether it would be at the very beginning or whenever to be contributing at that level. That's my goal.”

But when he wasn't in the lineup on opening day, Antonelli began to wonder if things were going to work.

When he did get in the lineup, the plate discipline that intrigued the Orioles was still there, but the line drives and home runs were missing. And the thing about playing in the minor leagues is, with one-year contracts and little patience for slumps, pressure mounts quickly.

A few weeks later – while he'd been bouncing in and out of the lineup and struggling at the plate - the second baseman tweeted a picture of a snow-filled, Single-A ballpark. The stadium has wooden advertisements as a wall and bleachers that only fits about 2,000 without alerting the fire marshall. Norfolk was there to play the Scranton Yankees, who were without a home while their new stadium was being built. It was still a Triple-A game, but it felt like one of those how-did-I-get-here moments.

“It was my weirdest season by far to say the least,” Antonelli said last week.

In the following weeks, the Orioles started shaking up their roster. They signed several players who would play a key role in their run toward the playoffs, including outfielders Nate McClouth and Lew Ford. Antonelli, however, was the odd man out. On May 13 – only about two months after a spot on the MLB roster seemed possible - he was released. He finished with only 116 plate appearances for the Tides.

“Obviously I was disappointed at how it went,” he said. “But if I had shown up to Baltimore and played well and played like I did in Syracuse, things would have been different. So I can only blame myself.”

Four days later, he was picked up by the New York Yankees. They assigned him to Triple-A Scranton. Things didn't work out much better there than they had in Norfolk. The Yankees' lineup was pretty much set by the time he walked in the door and when he did play, he didn't hit. Then, he injured his hand.

“At that point, I was thinking 'this is the season from hell,'” he said.

The former first-round pick only played 15 games with the Yankees. He was DFA'd, picked back up and DFA'd again along the way. His final stat line for the season was 44 games, .201/.324/.286, two home runs and 11 RBI – nothing close to what he'd hoped.

Antonelli doesn't want to call this upcoming season a crossroads, but there's no other word. He's 27 and fully believes he can fulfill his potential as an everyday major league infielder. However, the reality is that mountain gets harder and harder to climb each year that it doesn't happen. Every season, a whole new crop of rookies enter the league who are pegged to be everyday players. It's like a game of musical chairs with 1,000 players fighting for one seat.

That's the life of a professional baseball player. Not mansions and Maseratis. It's time away from home, low pay and long bus rides. It's being cut and traded, sometimes even misled. If you aren't a star, there's a constant self dialogue about what's next and when you'll call it quits.

But Antonelli isn't ready to have that conversation yet. Even when things were down, he was inspired by his former Syracuse teammate Gregor Blanco, who was the starting left fielder on the World Series-winning San Francisco Giants. Blanco was mostly a minor league player and fourth outfieder who took over in left field when Mekly Cabrera was suspended for PEDs.

Blanco made several key plays during the World Series. Antonelli was watching.

“Gregor is a great player,” he said. “Sometimes a guy has a bad season and people write him off, then the next thing you know he's contributing in the majors. It happens with tons of players. So, I know I'm not young anymore, but I'm only 27 and I still think that can be me.”

Antonelli said he and his agent are still working on finding a spot for next season. 

READ MORE ABOUT MATT ANTONELLI'S ROAD TO THE SHOW AT BIZ OF BASEBALL.COM

 PART1

PART2

PART3

PART4

PART5

 

In Defense of John Sterling

A few days ago, a caller to a Rochester, New York, talk radio station buzzed in to the nightly sports talk show to tell the world that John Sterling is the worst play-by-play broadcaster in baseball. The caller said he was disappointed in the station for carrying New York Yankees games because their listeners deserve better. (Forgive the man for not really understanding how it works.) Mr. Caller was insistent that Sterling "failed to paint a picture" and was too busy "worrying about statistics." The host agreed. He suggested that Sterling stop wasting his time coming up with new jingles for each player's home runs and focus on the game. The call ended with both men undoubtedly nodding proudly.

Their opinions, no doubt, are widely shared. There are many blogs dedicated to mocking Sterling and even more Twitter accounts that snark at his expense. And sometimes said blogs/Twitter accounts are pretty darn funny. But is he really the worst in baseball?

Sterling is absolutely the worst in baseball at a lot of things.

He bumbles over simple descriptions of on-field events. Sometimes he messes up so badly you think he's in the Bronx and the game is being played in Manhattan and he's trying to make out the action with low-power binoculars.

His interactions  with color analyst Suzyn Waldman are awkward at best, condescending at worst. Inning after inning, Waldman will make fair - albeit shallow - observations and Sterling will respond with either dead air, "and thaaa pitch" or "of course, Suzyn," and then carry on about his business. Waldman is widely mocked for calling Roger Clemens' return like Babe Ruth had just stepped out of the dugout, but her comments aren't always so silly. In fact, they are at least equivalent to that of most ex players holding the same position. But Sterling often sets her up to sound foolish.

Then there's the home run calls. They are a parody of themselves. They are abominably corny and often leave you with the same feeling as when your buddy has a little too much and decides to sing karaoke. Only Sterling's singing doesn't come off as funny or cute, it makes you think he wants to be the star of the show - that he's bigger than an A-Bomb or Tex Message.

So, yes, Sterling has more noticeable and easily discernible flaws than your middle-of-the-road mic jockey. \

But the man is entertaining as all hell.

When you listen to Sterling, you strap in for "John's Emotional Roller Coaster Ride," in which each inning  there's a chance you'll see something magical and when it's over, win or lose, nobody's more disappointed than him to go home.

Sterling cares about the Yankees like an old man that has a train collection in his basement. Getting on the mic is like him putting on his pinstriped conductor hat and heading down stairs to futz with the fake little landscapes and tell you about how he loves to accelerate around the curves. He chuckles at it all, often proclaiming, "isn't it amazing?"

When the Yankees lose, Sterling doesn't get angry, he gets disappointed. It's like A-Rod broke one of his favorite box cars. He knows there will be another, but he's still a little sad.

In the big moments, nobody could ever be more excited than he is. Many are better. Nobody is more pumped to be calling it. Sterling's pace will pick up. His voice will begin to quiver. He becomes a vocal volcano, hoping upon hope that his club allows him to erupt. And when Raul Ibanez hits that game-tying home run in the playoffs, his unabashed joy resembles a golden retriever that's been waiting to go out to play and the door is finally opened and Frisbee thrown.

Even if you hate the Yankees, hate Sterling, hate Roger Clemens, hate Micky Mantle and hate that over-priced soulless stadium and its $10 hamburgers and empty lower bowl, you can't hate a golden retriever chasing a Frisbee.

And about those home run calls. The endings are terrifically bad, but the beginnings are great. When the batter  hits the ball and Sterling yells, "swung on and hit deeeep to right field...." how can you not grip your chair waiting for him to say, "gawnnnn."

Heck, you can even make a little game out of whether the ball actually leaves the yard or ends up a pop out near first base.

The point is, there are probably 29 other radio broadcasts that are more accurate and even keeled, but few that are more fun than the Sterling's. In other words, his painting isn't exactly a Rembrandt like listening to Vin Scully, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy looking at it.

Of course, sometimes you have to get over yourself first.

Baseball Memories Pt. 1

He called for the change up. St. Louis Cardinals' catcher Yadier Molina threw down four fingers, flashing the sign for the change to his right-handed pitcher Adam Wainwright. The gangly rookie looked back with one eyebrow raised, then nodded. Center fielder Carlos Beltran was at the plate. He had slammed the Cards in the 2004 National League Championship Series as a member of the Astros and with the bases loaded and down by one, Beltran had a chance to be the biggest hero in Shea Stadium since Mookie Wilson.

The puzzled rook must have thought Molina was picking a strange time to haze him. Should he shake it off? Nobody shakes him off. Two-seem fastball, cut fastball, slider and curve ball. They ran through his mind. Wainwright, a top prospect starter, was out of his element here. He had been jammed into the closer's role after veteran Jason Isringhausen had gone down with an arm injury. He had been living off a plus fastball and a curve that would cause hitters to jump like they'd seen a crack of lightning. Not a stupid change up.

Strike one. Beltran raised his brow.

A few foul balls and a crack of lightning later and Molina was somewhere in the middle of the pile; his mask, glove and chest protector laying on the grass just beyond the celebration.

What I learned around the ballpark...

It's been awhile since I've written anything here, but lately I've been thinking about my upcoming season with the Batavia Muckdogs, single-A affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals. Thing is, last year was my first experience showing up at the ballpark every day as part of a team. When you are a journalist working for an outside source, it's more difficult to get your hands on candid conversations. Everyone thinks you are going to run and tell the world. But when you are a play-by-play broadcaster, folks around the game assume you won't be revealing too much on the air. And to be perfectly honest, they probably figure nobody important is listening even if you do.

In my time hanging around scouts, coaches, roving instructors and even some high-ranking executives, I was privy to many interesting conversations. The amount I learned from these people about the game of baseball, I couldn't possibly put a value on how much it helped me do my job.

The most interesting aspect of being a sponge, soaking up knowledge from those whose careers depend on knowing the game, was that there are many different ways of looking at the same thing. So, I figured I'd pass along, with no names mentioned, the some interesting parts of chats I had with these people. Keep in mind, this is the stuff these guys would say to pretty much anybody, I kept any information that would be harmful to anyone off the record where it belongs.

I'll start out with my favorite quote, coming from a former major leaguer:

"I tell these young players, if you want to make it to the show, it's not about hitting, running or pitching. Who can't do that stuff? Fuck, man, everybody has tools. If you want to play every day in The Show, you have to be like The Wizard of Oz. I say, if you want to make it, you better have fucking heart, you better have fucking courage and you better have fucking brains."

Same guy, on what it takes to hit in the big leagues:

"I don't care one bit if you can hit a curve ball or slider or change. Don't care. Nobody cares. There are 100 guys in The Show who can't hit a curve. It's all about the fast ball. You won't make it past double-A if you can't turn around a 95 mph fastball. You know why? Because guys in the majors don't make too many mistakes with the fastball, and when they do, you better hit it. Hit those, wait on the hanging breaking stuff and you can do it."

Staying with the same theme, another ex-MLB'er turned scout on why so many young players fail:

"It's a boring game. Think about it, if you play in the outfield, you spend most of the time looking around, staring at the grass, singing a little song to yourself. It's boring. Then, you get three, maybe four chances to do something in a whole game. And you have to keep your concentration. After awhile, you are riding five hours on a bus to stand in the outfield looking at the grass and you say to yourself, 'why am I doing this?' See, you better freeking love this game or you will lose motivation quickly."

Another scout on players' competitive nature:

"I've thrown BP to the (MLB team) before. (two star players) were sitting there competing on who could rip it off which sign in the outfield or who could hit a one-hop line drive on the edge of the grass. They were kind of betting each other like, 'I bet you can't do this.' Those are two guys making millions and millions of dollars and they are so obsessed with competition that they are competing in BP in August on a Thursday. That's what I look for."

AL scout:

"Watching Jamie Moyer pitch is fucking poetry, man."

 Another scout on whether leadership matters:

"(a current MLB star) invited (the team's No. 1 draft pick) over to his house for dinner a week after the kid got drafted. That's the guy who's supposed to some day take your job and you are inviting him to dinner. Think about what that means when other guys see that. They know that in this franchise, the team is bigger than anyone and it's all class. And that if you don't act like a professional here, you can go somewhere else."

 Another scout on how his job has changed the way he looks at the game:

"It's funny, doing this job kind of ruins baseball for you a little. I was watching a game with my son, he's 12, and a guy threw a runner out at second base. My son says, 'dad, that guy has a great arm.' I said, 'yes he does, buddy.' I couldn't help but think, 'meh, that was only a 55 or 60 at best.' Then I thought, where did the fun go of thinking everybody was great?"

Scout on judging "make up"

"We ask a lot of guys like you, 'how is this guy in the club house? Is he a nice guy?' And you know what? If a player is a nice guy, good, but we don't care at all. The biggest jerk ever was Barry Bonds. He was also the best player ever. You know what I care about? If the guy wants to be the best that ever played. If he has a killer instinct. Honestly, not too many nice guys also want to kill you for taking them out of the lineup."

NL scout on judging an outfielder's arm:

"If the first thing you say about a guy is: 'he's got a good arm' then I know he can't hit for shit."

Executive on statistics:

"I used to play strat-o-matic. Who knew that would come in handy, huh."

Scout on statistics:

"In the minors, stats are like a report card. If a kid brings his report card home and he's smart enough to have A's but he's got all C's, you wonder about him because you know he should have A's, or say, be hitting .350 instead of .200. You don't give up on him, just wonder if he can ever get A's. In the big leagues, stats are everything. You are a .300 hitter or you aren't."

A different scout on stats:

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid numbers."

Scout on range:

"I'd take Jeter over someone like Furcal all day. You know when the game is on the line, Jeter is going to make the play."

Scout on why a particular player was traded:

"He's an idiot. We don't put up with idiots."

Scout on judging fielding range:

"I look at who has the best range in the game and I count down from there. BJ Upton has the best range in center in the majors. His reads are flawless, speed incredible. When I see a guy going after a ball, I say, 'is he as good as BJ Upton?' Nope. He ain't an 80 then."

Coach walking by a scout (not 100 percent sure he was joking):

"I'll tell you what my wife says about scouts...she says you assholes get paid to write down your stupid numbers. Oh, 55? 45? Who gives a shit. You must laugh yourself to sleep every night thinking you get paid to write down stupid numbers."

Another scout on making it:

"I knew a guy with average everything, but that sonofabitch showed up hours before everyone else and asking every day for help on his swing, his throwing, everything. You can absolutely outwork your talent, no question."

Two scouts on the same pitcher:

Scout one: "He's tipping all of his pitches, they'll kill him at the next level"

Scout two: "He's got good deception, I think he could be a real good pitcher"

A walk off win

Over the top?

So, game is 3-2, man on 3rd base, 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th....is the call over the top?

Oh, and I have no idea why it says Feb. 18, 2008 or why there are Penguins. Just go with it.

Former Yankees No. 1 pick Culver handles expectations

Dwyer Stadium in Batavia, N.Y., isn't much of a stage. It's an old stadium, better fit for high school than professional baseball. It holds 2,000 people and rarely comes close to capacity. The grass is green and yellow, lights dim and sometimes the PA system cuts out. It's six hours away from the World's biggest baseball stage in the Bronx, but feels like a heck of a lot farther than that....

When the New York Yankees called Cito Culver's name with their first pick on draft day 2010, the response from Yankees fans was: "who?" Fans hadn't heard of him because baseball players don't come from Rochester, N.Y. A few NFLers and even an NBA player or two have come from the Western N.Y. area, but few big leaguers. Former right-handed pitcher Tim Redding is the most notable - but he only sniffed the majors. Culver is different. Not just because he was taken 32nd overall by the Yankees, but because he is a shortstop and wears No. 2.

The expectations for most late first-round draft picks is becoming a major league starter. Culver is expected to take the shortstop position from Derek Jeter. You know, the guy with more hits than any player in the history of the franchise, five championship rings and the type of super stardom only previously achieved by Michael Jordan. "Yeah, Cito, that's your gig next," the Yankees said by spending a first-round pick on him.

Somebody had to play guard for the Bulls after Jordan. Somebody had to play quarterback for the Broncos after John Elway. Culver is pegged as the guy to play shortstop after Jeter. Brian Griese and Jay Cutler couldn't handle it, neither could Pete Myers or any of the guards, even Derek Rose for Chicago. Mike Cameron was a descent enough center fielder, but he'll always be that guy who roamed the outfield post-Griffey. That's the thing about filling unfillable shoes: it takes someone special.

Yankees scout Tim Alexander told his club that Culver is that special. He watched the shortstop play more than 200 times. The arm is plus-plus, range outstanding, hands quick with a little bit o' pop. But lots of guys have all that. "Good kid?" I ask Alexander. "No," he says staring down from his wrap-around sun glasses. "Great kid."

Alexander said makeup is often overstated. He doesn't care if a kid is arrogant or friendly, smart or dumb. He wants to know if he can play ball. But, with the expectations for Culver, it's a different ballgame. "For that kid to go through what he went through and still play? That tells you something," he said.

The 19-year-old infielder watched his father try to burn his family's house down. He watched his father go to jail. He watched the draft from his home in Rochester with everyone but the man who taught him baseball.

One year after being picked 32nd overall, Culver is in the rusty confines of Dwyer Stadium of the New York Penn League. Standing at the bottom of the mountain, he can barely see the Bronx at the top. He's wearing No. 2, batting second with the word "Yankees" across the chest. Only the words "Staten Island" are above it. There's a nervous ovation as he steps in to the batter's box, only a 45 minute drive from the back yard he grew up throwing the ball around with his dad.

He doesn't look back at his mom or at the local media cameras. He looks at ball two. He's facing what scouts call an "org" pitcher. Which stands for organizational and is a nice way of saying he'll never amount to anything. The org pitcher grooves one. Culver, a switch-hitter batting left, snaps the wrists and launches a home run over the right field wall. It's his first home run of the season. The crowd exhales, then cheers.

In the fourth inning, he hit another home run. You could almost hear Suzyn Waldman screeching, "of all the dramatic things...."

Culver greets the media with a grin in the glittery media room known as the visitor's bullpen. He smiles politely at questions about coming home. "What would Jeter say?" Seemed to come out in all of his answers. Cliches about loving the game and having great teammates. But what about being the next Brian Griese? Or Mike Cameron?

"I just try to play hard, man," he says with a little less ease. "I'll take his spot only if he wants to give it to me."

What's surprising is that Jeter does want to give it to him. Alexander says Jeter has invited Culver over for dinner and talked to him about what it means to be a professional baseball player. "He's a really great guy, he teaches me things and I just try to listen," Culver says.

You can tell he's been listening.

Culver won't be playing in rusty stadiums at the bottom of the mountain for very long. Soon, Yankee fans won't say: "who?" anymore, either. The 19-year-old is hitting around .300 and playing defense fit for higher levels. We don't know yet whether he can hit a 97 mph fastball; we won't for some time. We do know that he's not afraid of expectations. Or afraid to wear No. 2.

Here's an inning of me calling baseball

And, a hilarious pitcher of left-hander Pat Daugherty...for no reason.

What makes a big leaguer? I asked...

"Sometimes you just see something," one scout says during batting practice.

He, only halfway paying attention to our conversation about a young outfielder's swing, surmised player evaluation pretty darn brilliantly. It's a complicated process that, unless you spent thousands of hours playing, you could never truly understand. At the same time, it's simple. Sometimes, you just see something.

As hitters pop in and out of the cage, the scout studies the mechanics of each swing. Hands here, foot lands there, left leg ends here, head doesn't move and shoulders end square. Then he studies bat speed and approach.

"But, for every guy who does all those things right, there are 100 guys in the Majors who do them wrong and make $20 million a year," another scout says.

The two agree on the skills it takes to play Major League Baseball. "Can a guy hit a 97 mph fastball?" They ask. "Does he have the arm to make all the throws?"

The thing is, there are thousands who can hit a 97 mph fastball and make all the throws, yet a select few make the Majors. The difference is makeup.

An instructor for the team - an 30-year baseball guy who has a way of fitting every possible curse word into his analysis - says makeup is what separates booms from busts. ""I tell these young players, if you want to make it to the show, it's not about hitting, running or pitching. Who can't do that stuff? Fuck, man, everybody has tools. If you want to play every day in The Show, you have to be like The Wizard of Oz. I say, if you want to make it, you better have fucking heart, you better have fucking courage and you better have fucking brains."

This isn't how we usually think of makeup. We ask whether he's a good person, whether he runs out ground balls and if he signs autographs for hours after the game. That stuff matters a little, but not much. "When I ask a guy to come out of the game, does he have a problem with coming out of the game?" The coach asks. "You can't teach a guy to not ever want to come out of the game. That's what I'm looking for."

The rhetorical questions seem endless. They ask so many questions, you wonder how anyone ever has the stuff to play in the Major Leagues. Can he make it through failure? Can he make adjustments? Is he willing to learn?

So, let's say we have a player who can hit a 97 mph fastball, he has heart courage and brains, he can handle failure, is willing to learn and make adjustments. He can still fail in the Bigs. In fact, he can still never make it. "Double-A separates the men from the boys," one of the scouts says. Why? "Approach," he says.

As players advance, the fastballs get faster, the curveballs are sharper and everybody throws all their pitches for strikes. The instructor says all the tools on Earth do no good if a batter doesn't have a plan. One of the players, a lefty, says he tries to take the ball to left field each time. If he gets a hanging breaking ball, he can react, but he needs to think fastball away, fastball away, fastball away.

There a hitters who can "see the ball hit the ball." There are guys so good they swing at breaking balls to fool the pitcher into throwing it again (see: Manny Ramirez). Those are outliers. And, guys that good had to learn it from thousands of minor league at bats.

All that said, sometimes the tools aren't there or the heart or the approach and a player still has success in the majors. Sometimes you just see something.

Was Mark Ingram Used by ESPN?

Let me first say, I have a great deal of respect for Jeff Pearlman. His accomplishments at SI and beyond speak for themselves. Jeff is one of those lightning rod types. Often times - whether he'll admit it or not - he takes the opposite of what everyone else is thinking just to prove he's smart enough to make a good argument. His take on ESPN's handling of Mark Ingram is one of those times.

If you missed it, Ingram was drafted 28th overall by the New Orleans Saints. Immediately after he hugged the commish, ESPN's Suzy Kolber read the rookie an email from his incarcerated father. As you would expect, the 21-year-old running back was extremely emotional.

Pearlman wrote this blog post explaining why he felt the special moment was dishonest:

"In the ESPN production booth, everyone cheers. What raw emotion! What spur-of-the-moment grittiness! Great job, Kolber! Great job!
 
But it’s not a great job. It’s emotional manipulation. You don’t spring this sort of letter upon a 21-year-old kid on national TV. It might make for great viewing, but it’s dishonest, dishonorable and wrong. This is the life he’s been handed—a father behind bars; trying to overcome that and somehow get past it."

Let's start with the decision to have Kolber read the note to Ingram. When broadcasting a live event, decisions have to be made faster than you can say "conflict of interest." It seems reasonable to say Kolber said to her producer, "I got an email from Ingram's father, should I roll with it?" To which the producer, without thinking, said "yes yes yes." It is possible that the email was a setup - and if that's the case I would be more inclined to agree - but Kolber reading the note from her cell phone doesn't seem exactly how they would have plotted it out. So, for now, let's assume it was organic.

Here's what went through said producer's mind in that eye blink: "Ingram will cry. His fans will care about him more. Kolber will win a fucking Pulitzer or something. The Saints will send me a care package filled with wonderful fruits my wife will love. Roger Goodell will hug me twice for helping build the same brand my company is paying billions for, raise raise raise raise raise raise raise raise...."

The producer weighed the following drawbacks of reading the imprisoned father's email to his son: NONE. Outside of a few souls bouncing the notion around that it may have been contrived, the only long-shot, 1,000-to-1 shot of something going wrong would be if the draftee became somehow angry. Although, let's say Ingram screams "how dare you!" Then, the clip gets played a zillion times on Youtube, the producer gets interview on Good Morning America and ESPN's brand grows evermore.

Forgive me, for thus far I've ignored Pearlman's main argument for why ESPN shouldn't have read Ingram's email: that the World Wide Leader was abusing a 21-year-old's raw emotion. That they took advantage of him for ratings or awards/recognition purposes. That they got the reaction they wanted and the poor ignorant kid thinks they did something nice.

There's something faulty here. First, Ingram realizes full well that he's going to a major televised event. He knows his father is in prison. And, I would argue it isn't a stretch to say he is aware the NFL and ESPN should both start with the letter E for entertainment. Could he have possibly thought it wouldn't come up?

If you're going to talk about taking advantage of young guys, how about the fact that Ingram is stepping into a league that will mash his brains into a suicidal soup by age 45? How about running him 400 times per year until his knees are more or less that of Joe Namath then cutting him faster than Shaun Alexander can say Larry Johnson? How about parading him around on national TV and hugging a commissioner who just wrote in an Op-Ed that his teammates who don't stick around for more than six years are basically worthless? Oh, but gosh darn ESPN for making him cry.

The cynicism from Pearlman is appreciated - and that's said with zero #sarcasm. Ethics in sports broadcasting needs to be talked about. Like, how Jon Gruden will criticize the hell out of a player when he's just drafted, but as soon as he's playing for a team Gruden might coach the next season, he'll "this guy" him to death on Monday Night Football. Or how about the fact that Kolber, like hundreds of outstanding female broadcasters, was even stuck on the sideline of the draft!

Even if we grant that Ingram was taken advantage of, it's nearly impossible to find actual damage. He had an emotional moment on TV that endeared him immediately to Saints fans. NFL is happy, Saints are happy, his agents is happy, ESPN's happy. Everybody won, nobody lost. Except cynics, I suppose.

Should the International League take Easter Sunday off?

Rochester Red Wings writer Jim Mandelero made the claim on his blog that the International League should not play baseball on Easter Sunday. Mandelero says the IL should have an open date on Easter due to poor attendance numbers. He then lists this Easter's figures for the seven teams who had home dates this year.

The problem with Mandelero's argument is context. He does not figure in weather or even general April averages. That doesn't mean he's wrong, just not thorough. So, I decided to take a look to see if the International League should really not be playing on Easter Sunday.

We looked at the last six years of Sunday home dates in April and compared attendance to weather (all attendance figures according to MiLB official box scores):

Rochester Sunday home dates in April when the weather is under 55 degrees:

April 24, 2005 – 46 degrees – attendance: 3,034

*April 16, 2006 – 52 degrees – attendance: 3,389

April 13, 2008 – 42 degrees – attendance: 2,929

*April 12, 2009 – 41 degrees – attendance: 2,933

April 18, 2010 – 45 degrees – attendance: 3,243

April 10, 2011 – 52 degrees – attendance 3,906

*April 24, 2011 – 43 degrees – attendance: 2,928

Rochester Sunday home dates in April when the weather is over 55 degrees

April 10, 2005 – 64 degrees – attendance: 5,449

April 22, 2007 – 77 degrees – attendance: 5,647

April 26, 2009 – 57 degrees – attendance: 4,551

*Easter Sunday

Notice that in 2006, Easter Sunday outdrew two Sundays that were not held on Easter. Why? Because the temperature was around 10 degrees higher. Maybe suggest moving the team to North Carolina?

Buffalo, NY, is about an hour down the road from Rochester and has nearly identical weather. Here's how their attendance figures shook out for Sunday's in April:

Buffalo Sunday home dates in April when the weather is under 55 degrees:

*April 16, 2006 – 48 degrees – attendance: 5,603

April 13, 2008 – 40 degrees – attendance: 5,540

*April 12, 2009 – 38 degrees – attendance: 4,434

April 18, 2010 – 49 degrees – attendance: 4,613

*April 24, 2011 – 48 degrees – attendance: 4,353

Buffalo Sunday home dates in April when the weather is above 55 degrees

April 30, 2006 – 71 degrees – attendance: 7,219

April 22, 2007 – 66 degrees – attendance: 8,184

April 27, 2008 - 58 degrees – attendance: 6,455

April 26, 2009 – 57 degrees – attendance 5,799

April 10, 2011 – 55 degrees – attendance: 5,149

Again, the Easter attendances for Buffalo when the weather is under 55 degrees do not seem to be lower than non-Easter Sunday games in April. Maybe that's why the International League doesn't have an open date on Easter?

The Best Game Ever Pitched?

Pedro Martinez has fingers like Jimi Hendrix, a scowl like Jon Gruden and a demeanor fit more for the Ray Lewis types than for a 5-foot-10, 170 lb. pitcher. The former Red Sox ace stomped around the bump like a little kid who was playing "King of the Hill" all by himself. Atop the 10-inch mound, he looked miniature standing 60-feet away from steroid-induced Goliaths. But, no matter how large the hitters grew, Pedro was always bigger.

On Sept. 10, 1999, the Boston Red Sox were six games behind the New York Yankees. It would be a rare "pitcher's duel" amidst the greatest hitters era in history as Pedro was taking on Andy Pettitte (though even Pettitte was struggling in 1999 with at 12-11 with a 4.60 ERA). The Sox's ace entered at 21-4 and had worked heavily, throwing more than seven innings 17 times and more than 120 pitches nine times coming into that night's game at Yankee Stadium.

Far too many times, he'd thrown on four-days rest and been absolutely untouchable; once striking out 30 men in back-to-back starts on short rest. No matter how much Jimmy Williams worked him, Pedro continued to pile up strikeouts and wins. Five days before the match-up with the Yankees, Martinez had thrown 126 pitches in a 15 strikeout effort against the Seattle Mariners. Call it a warm up.

The Yankees' lineup wasn't quite as built for the long ball as it is in 2011; they focused primarily on getting on base ranking second in the American League in OBP at .366. They wore pitchers down, striking out 151 fewer times than the AL leader. Regardless of how they did it ,the 1999 New York Yankees raked, averaging 5.56 runs per game.

They would only get one on Sept. 10, 1999. In the second inning, Chili Davis hit a home run to right-center field. Then Pedro got big, striking out 12 of the final 19 batters and allowing zero men on base. The righty set down Derek Jeter twice, Bernie Williams twice and Ledee all three times on strikes. Davis' home run was the lone line drive in the entire game. Martinez struck out the side in the ninth to finish with a 17-strikeout, one-hit performance.

It was the greatest game I've seen pitched and there's an argument to be made that it's the most impressive performance ever. Consider the factors working against Martinez: tiny ballpark, team that won 98 games and swept the World Series, team that did not strike out often and walked like crazy, steroids (not that I'm accusing anyone in that Yankee lineup, but it was that era), a lower pitching mound than Koufax and Gibson and the pressure of the rivalry and pitching on the road.

Here's how Pedro's legendary gem compares to some of the other greatest games pitched and the competition they faced:

Pedro Martinez: 1 hit, 1 run, 17 K's, 0 walks vs. 1999 Yankees: 5.56 runs/gm, .366 OBP, .819 OPS

Roger Clemens: 3 hits, 1 run, 20 K's, 0 walks vs. 1986 Mariners: 4.43 runs/gm, .326 OBP, .724 OPS (also led AL in K's)

Sandy Koufax: 0 hits, 0 runs, 14 K's, 0 walks vs. 1965 Cubs: 3.87 runs/gm, .307 OBP, .666 OPS

Roy Halladay: 0 hits, 0 runs, 8 K's, 1 walk vs. 2010 Reds:  4.88 runs/gm, .338 OBP, .774 OPS

Kerry Wood: 1 hit, 0 runs, 20 K's, 0 walks vs. 1998 Astros:  5.40 runs/gm, .356 OBP, .792 OPS

Bob Gibson: 5 hits, 0 runs, 17 K's, 1 walk vs. 1986 Tigers: 4.14 runs/gm, .307 OBP, .692 OPS

Drive

On an average day in June or maybe it was July, maybe August, Albert Pujols hit a home run. The date doesn't matter, neither does the score, count or distance of the bomb. It's what he did after. On this particular slam, the shiny-headed slugger flipped his bat and stared out toward the pitcher's mound. During the moments following that home run, whenever it was, Pujols showed the same ferocity Lawrence Taylor did after ripping the spine from quarterback's body.

When King Albert returned to the dugout, his teammate Scott Rolen scolded him. The veteran third baseman gave him the old "don't disrespect the game" speech and Pujols nodded. It was something he hadn't really done before - disrespect the game, that is. And, from the guy who secretly visits children's hospitals and makes routine missions to aid desperately poor countries, flipping the bat with an angry snarl was down right bizarre.

Did he got caught up in a big moment? No. It wasn't a random outburst, it was a slip. Albert let the source of his drive to be Major League Baseball's greatest hitter show just a little.

The pitcher was Oliver Perez. And, suppose the home run was in July. Well, in April or so, Perez struck out Pujols to end an inning. Keep in mind this was all before Perez forgot how to throw a strike for the Mets, so Oli was pretty darn nasty. As Albert walked back toward the dugout, in the corner of his eye, he saw Perez fist-pumping and dancing around the mound. Pujols didn't forget.

A good memory can do more for an athlete than any set of weights.

Michael Jordan still has a deep burning rage toward anyone and everyone he ever perceived to ever think once in their life that he couldn't beat them. You've seen his Hall of Fame speech, right? Kobe Bryant still holds a grudge against Smush Parker. Yes, Smush Parker. Bob Gibson is still angry that Joe Torre told him how to pitch a batter in an All-Star game in the 60s.

Pujols' memory dates back farther than Perez getting jiggy on the mound after a K. In a 60 Minutes report, he revealed the devastation of draft day when he fell to the 13th round. Albert, who apparently can't read Baseball-Reference.com, said he still wants to prove every team wrong. Pujols still remembers a since-fired Cardinals scout who wasn't impressed, saying in an interview the scout "had it coming."

Sure, it's maniacal. Probably unhealthy. You'd think Pujols would get dizzy chasing after every ill word. But, like Jordan, Bryant and Gibson, the anger funnels into super-human drive to win. But those guys are more obvious. Jordan stuck his tongue out, Bryant scowled and Gibson threw chin music. Pujols just smiles. But, when he's giving his Hall of Fame speech filled with humility, know that inside his mind, he's flipping the bat.

The Greatest Game?

Being known as the "greatest" something or other in sports is just about the best thing you can ever be called. Dennis Rodman is the greatest rebounder ever. Anthony Munoz the greatest lineman. Babe Ruth the greatest hitter. Richard Petty the greatest racer.

Even being the greatest to play on a particular team insures infamy. Who's the greatest Cardinal? The greatest Dodgers pitcher? Even the greatest minor leaguer lives forever in his own town - you don't know who Jody Gage is or P.J. Forbes are, but if you lived in my town you would.

MLB Network decided to count down the "20 Greatest Games" in MLB history. Having played in the greatest game ever or even one of them? Now that's some serious fame. The problem is, as it turns out, that the list is about singular moments than the full game.

Last night was No. 8, the famous Cubs vs. Marlins "Steve Bartman game." The moment Bartman knocks the ball away from Alou is about as famous as any in baseball. But as a full game? It would be No. 1 on the most overblown games in the history of baseball.

Bartman going all Motombo on Alou shouldn't have actually meant anything to the game. In fact, you could make an argument that it really didn't mean a darn thing! Luis Castillo comes up with nobody out and one man on base. Let's say Alou makes the catch. Then Juan Pierre is still on second and the next batter, Ivan Rodriguez, singles. Pierre scores and it's 3-1. Alex Gonzalez makes an error on Miguel Cabrara's liner. Derrek Lee doubles, make it 3-2 with second and third with one out.

Now, we know how Dusty Baker is, but let's just say that he still goes to the bullpen here. Mike Lowell would still get intentionally walked and Jeff Conine would still get the sac fly - only to tie the game. Sammy Sosa still misses the cutoff man, Todd Hollinsworth is still walked and Mike Mordaci still clears the bases with a double.

OK, you don't have to let facts get in the way of a great story. The outrage over Bartman goes hand-in-hand with the superstitious nature of the game. It's those types of stories that allows the game to be passed down. But, there is no way in hell that moment makes the Cubs vs. Marlins game 6 one of the greatest games in Major League Baseball history.

Funny that when you ask a baseball fan why he loves the game, he'll eventually get to: "you have to play all nine innings, there's no killing the clock." If the idea is that all 27 outs are important, then how can one wacky foul ball make a great game?

The game wasn't pretty, either. There were errors, wild pitches and managerial blunders a plenty. Shouldn't the greatest game have great play rather than who screwed up worse?

Historical context, legendary characters, unlikely heroes, a magnificent ending and that infamous moment. The Cubs/Marlins only has several aspects: Chicago's World Series drought and the Billy Goat thing, Bartman is your character, unlikely hero and moment. But an 8-3 game is one of the 20 best ever? Could a 6-2 Stanley Cup Finals game make your top 1,000? How about a 27-10 NFL game?

Do any of the greatest films of all time have bad endings? If we didn't find out what Rosebud was, would Citizen Kane mean a darn thing? How about the bomb not going off in Dr. Strangelove? Would Rocky be in the top 100 films ever if Stalone doesn't scream Adrian's name? That's exactly what having a great game with a blah ending is. Great endings don't make a great game either. The ending to Godfather 3 is pretty powerful, if you don't pass out half way through.

That being said, here's my list based on the 50 possible choices (which leaves out Cardinals vs. Astros game 7 NLCS 2004 for some reason, though neither is the 'Shot Heard 'Round the World') given by MLB Network:

20) 1988 Game 4 NLCS Mets vs. Dodgers

Orel Hershiser was committed in 1988 to make his place in history. Not only did he throw the most consecutive innings without giving up a run, but in Game 4, he pitched relief and made his way out of a bases loaded jam just one day after starting Game 3. That wasn't the only drama to this one as in the ninth, down by two, catcher Mike Scioscia hit a two-run home run home run to tie the game at four. Three innings later, in Shea Stadium, Gibson hit the game winning bomb.

19) 1992 Game 7 NLCS Pirates vs. Braves

You could watch an entire season's worth of baseball and never see an umpire have to be replaced, but in this game John McSherry left with chest pains early. Pirates fans STILL think if Randy Marsh hadn't replaced McSherry, that they would have been in the World Series. Even the Wiki page claims that Marsh was "particularly tight" in the ninth inning when the Braves scored all three of their runs. Sid Bream running is memorable on its own, much less him sliding into home to end the series.

18) 1997 Game 7 Marlins vs. Indians

Cleveland nabbed two runs in the third inning on a Tony Fernandez two-run single. For a minute you think Fernandez is the unlikely hero as the Indians take a 2-1 lead into the ninth. Cleveland must have felt great with Jose Mesa and his 2.40 ERA on the hill for the ninth, but a pair of singles and a sacrifice fly and the game headed to extras. Enter: Fernandez. Enter: Baseball Gods. Only they would allow something so sick as for the second baseman, who would have been a hero to a town that hadn't won since the 40s, to misplay a ball in the eleventh inning. While I still feel weird about the Marlins having a World Series championship, Renteria's walk-off single is one of the most memorable moments in series history.

17) 2007 Game 163 Rockies vs. Padres

There's something about a game that leaves you wondering. Great films do the same. They leave you thinking "what if?" Not only was this game wacky because five runs were scored in the 13th after four straight scoreless innings, but also because we'll never know if Matt Holliday was safe. There's an everlasting image of his face bouncing off of the dirt around home plate. But was he safe? Isn't it just indicative of baseball to have a play where the camera can't even tell us the answer?

16) 1986 Game 6 NLCS Astros vs. Mets

 The box score alone is just weird. Three runs by the Astros in the first, three runs by the Mets in the ninth. Things didn't really get interesting until the, oh, 14th inning. The got a run in the top, but left the bases loaded. The Astros make them pay in the bottom with a home run by Billy Hatcher. In the 16th, the Mets must have thought they had rid themselves of Houston by scoring three runs, but the Astros scratched out two runs before finally being shut down. Many Mets players have said if they hadn't won Game 6, Mike Scott surely would have beaten them in Game 7 (or at least it makes it sound more important when you say that).

15) 1976 Game 5 ALCS Royals vs. Yankees

Whitey Herzog and Billy Martin, two legendary managers facing off in five games none separated by more than three runs. Kansas City had come back with three runs in the eighth inning and thought they had it wrapped up. But, as a friend often says: "never bet against the Yankees." Tell me you'll ever forget the scene of Chris Chambliss being mobbed by thousands of fans?

14)1985 Game 5 NLCS Cardinals vs. Dodgers

Do I really need to say more than "Go crazy folks, go crazy!" Well, yes. The Dodgers had their ace on the mound Fernando Valenzuela, who somehow walked eight batters and still only allowed two runs through eight innings. On the other side, St. Louis' starter was out by the fourth inning after allowing two runs. The bullpen trio of Ken Dayley, Todd Worrell and Jeff Lahti held the score at 2-2 until the ninth. Then of course, our unlikely hero Ozzie Smith hits a walk-off home runs. Smith, a switch hitter, slammed the pitch out against righty Tom Niedenfuer after not hitting a single left-handed home run all season.

13) 2001 Game 7 World Series Diamondbacks vs. Yankees

The perfect ending to the wackiest World Series I've ever witnessed. The thing is, the Yankees had this one won. But, as is typical of Joe Torre, he mismanaged his bullpen electing to pitch Mariano Rivera two innings. In the ninth, it was a bunt by Tony Womack which was consequently misplayed by Rivera, that ended up leading to the broken-bat single. The ending to this one still has me wondering why Torre didn't play Derek Jeter at double-play depth with bases loaded and one out.


12) 1980 Game 5 NLCS Phillies vs. Astros

This entire series was off the wall. All but one game went into extra innings and the last one, Game 5, was the best. Houston took a 5-2 lead into the eighth inning with Nolan Ryan on the mound, but somehow the Phillies - on the back of an inauspicious and single, walk and groundout - tied the game. A two-run triple put them ahead. But, the Astros scored two of their own in the eighth to eventually send it to extras at 7-7. A pair of doubles later and the 'Phils were on their way to the World Series. I hate to put a single game so high because it embodied the beauty of the entire series, but for this one, I'll make an exception.

11) 1995 Game 5 ALDS Mariners vs. Yankees

The first playoff series win ever by the Mariners. Edgar Martinez's double. Griffey rounding third. This whole series was incredible, and that moment wrapped it up perfectly. The superstar power in this series and game stood out. Griffey Jr. hits his fifth bomb, Randy Johnson comes in in relief. The game goes into 11 innings and the Yankees score in the top. You think it's over and here comes Griffey again. Though your unsung hero is Joey Cora for laying down a bunt single and scoring the tying run. This is the first playoff game I remember clearly and I will never forget it.


10) 2006 Game 7 Cardinals vs. Mets

It could have been Scott Rolen, Albert Pujols or Jim Edmonds. It could have been David Wright or Carlos Beltran. But, the heroes of this Game 7 were Endy Chavez and Yadier Molina. Now, baseball people know Molina is the league's best defensive catcher, but on this night he hit a home run in the eighth inning to put the Cards ahead. Earlier in the game, Chavez made one of the league's all-time best catches, leaping up and reaching his glove well over the wall to stop the potential game leading home run. Regardless, the moment that will live forever is rookie pitcher Adam Wainwright's curveball on a 3-2 count with the bases loaded and a one-run lead. Molina is rarely credited for daring to call the pitch with a rookie on the hill.


9) 2004 Game 4 Red Sox vs. Yankees

Maybe the greatest unexpected hero ever Dave Roberts. You'll never forget "The Steal." Neither will I. Not only does it take a damn miracle to beat Mariano Rivera in the post-season, but Bill Mueller is the one who drives him in. BILL MUELLER. It's always looked at as the moment that turned around the greatest series comeback in the history of the game. Game 4 is perfectly finished off by the most exciting play in sports: a walk-off home run.


8) 1962 Game 7 World Series Giants vs. Yankees

Giants fans like to think if there had been the types of grounds crews there are today, they'd have another World Series victory. The game was 1-0, and Willie Mays gets walked. Next batter hits a double but Mays has to stop at third because the wet conditions held the ball up from rolling to the wall. Willy McCovey comes up, nails a line-drive right at Bobby Richardson, game over. Any World Series that ends 1-0 in Game 7 with the winning run on base deserves top 10.


7) 2001 Game 4 Yankees vs. Diamondbacks

 You would be kidding yourself if you thought this World Series didn't mean more being 2001. Though the Yankees lost the series, you would have thought they were destined. Honestly, I've never seen so much emotion in an MLB stadium as there was during Game 4. It wasn't just Jeter's "Mr. November," but Tino Martinez's two-run home run to tie the game against the helpless Byung-Hyun Kim.

6) 1986 Game 6 Red Sox vs. Mets

What makes this game stick out so much to me is Vin Scully. The calls, "it's so quiet in New York you can hear Boston" and "behind the bag." Scully's calls add a special type of drama that makes you want to watch the highlights over and over. The ball rolling under Buckner's legs doesn't stand out in my mind as much as the faces of the Red Sox players. Clemens freshly-shaved face. Henderson's smile when he tosses in the ball after recording the second out. Then absolute heart break.

5) 2002 Game 6 Angels vs. Giants

 One of my personal favorite World Series winning teams ever. Absolutely no big name stars vs. Barry Bonds. In Game 6, Bonds is almost a hero, hitting his eighth home run of the post-season. He almost celebrated the championship he'd left Pittsburgh to grab. And, somehow, Scott Spezio rips it out of Bonds' grasp.

4) 1991 Game 7 World Series - Braves vs. Twins

Best pitched game ever? Maybe. But zeros in extra innings of Game 7 of a World Series? Kirby's catch? Jack taking it to the 10th? Walk-off ending? Yeah.


3) 2003 Game 7 ALCS Yankees vs. Red Sox

For my money, Pedro Martinez was the best pitcher in the history of baseball. In 2003, he faced up with what you could have called the greatest lineup in the history of baseball. Of course, Aaron Boone is your unlikely hero for his extra innings home run against Tim Wakefield, but if Grady Little doesn't let Pedro convince him to stay on the mound...well....who knows. Funny thing is, Martinez made a beautiful pitch to Jorge Posada with runners on second and third and one out. Posada gets jammed and floats one into the outfield scoring two to tie the game at five.  

2) 1975 Game 6 World Series Red Sox vs. Reds

Carlton Fisk made his name forever by waiving his arms at a fly ball down the line, but it was Bernie Carbo's three-run home run in the eighth that allowed Fisk a chance. I'm never as interested in the last moment as I am about the events that allowed THE moment to happen. Things like Fred Lynn nearly making a diving catch on a George Foster line drive or three days of rain that allowed the Sox to pitch Luis Tiant in Game 6 and Bill Lee in Game 7.

1) 1986 Game 5 ALCS - Red Sox vs. Angels


I'd be lying if I said that what happened with Donnie Moore years after this game didn't influence my choice to have this game as No. 1. Moore's eventual suicide gives extra meaning to this game in the long-term. But, there was so much more to it than just Dave Henderson's home run. Tied at 5-5, the Angels loaded the bases with just one out but couldn't score against Steve Crawford. In the 10th, Henderson came through again with a sacrifice fly to eventually win the game for the Red Sox.

It's the greatest game on the list because it encompasses every aspect of what makes a single game great. It has unlikely heroes like Crawford. It has nine innings of well played baseball and one ever-lasting moment in Moore's flat forkball. There is lore that will live on forever, such as the fact that Moore wasn't even supposed to pitch that day due to arm soreness. Without that forkball to Henderson, Bill Buckner never misses a slow grounder down the first base line.

Dennis Rodman and 'pull'

Dennis Rodman in the Hall of Fame? Never thought I'd see it. I figured the voters would say "one-dimensional" when they really mean "weirdo." I figured the committee would rather put in a humble, team player than the guy who kicked a photographer, married several wacky celebrities (including himself, I think) and did photo shoots in drag.


So, how did he get in?

 If you've ever met an A&R rep, they'll tell you about "it." Ask a director. Ask an artist. They know. Joe Dumars and John Sally reflected on Rodman's skill calling it "heart." But "heart" is played. Rodman was a tormented artist. Rodman had cut-your-ear-off "it."

"It" can mean agility, speed or vision like a vocalist with range, charisma and pitch. "The Worm" had more than that.

Rodman grabbed rebounds like Jack sung in The Jazz Singer - with a "pull." If you've seen the movie, you know that the singer was driven toward stardom by his father's rejection. Rodman played driven by his difficult upbringing and the one-note song in his head singing that he could have been better.

The 6-foot-6 power forward told Detroit fans last week as much in an emotional speech at the Palace. As his jersey rose to the rafters, Rodman sunk into tears, saying he wished he could have done more for the Pistons. As if two championships and 18 rebounds per game weren't enough.

Back in the 90s, he tracked down rebounds like the next one might bring him eternal happiness. Of course, it didn't. Off the floor, Rodman famously sat in the parking lot outside the Palace with a loaded shotgun contemplating suicide.

Precisely why I'm shocked he was elected to the Hall of Fame. Judge-and-jury writers don't forget things like that. Bob Young of the Arizona Republic asked, "is this the type of guy we want in the Hall of Fame?"

You mean the player whose rebound percentage dwarfs that of Wilt Chamberlain? You mean a forward who hustled and battled the best - and often much larger - forwards on his way to five championships? That type? No. Young meant the off-the-court Dennis Rodman he'll never know or understand. Young meant that we have the right to judge a Hall of Famer as more than a basketball player, but as a man.

Problem is: a man is a hell of a lot more than his mistakes.

But Rodman became his mistakes. His play was overshadowed by his antics - and I guess for some it still is. By no means think we should ignore The Worm's torment. You could even make the argument that Rodman's demons, like Jack's father or Van Gogh's insanity, helped make him a phenomenal basketball player. But I don't know Dennis. All I know is he had "it." All I know is he belongs in the Hall of Fame.

June 17

John Ward threw the second perfect game in Major League Baseball history on June 17, 1880. The first came just five days before. The next National League perfect game didn't come until 80 years later when Jim Bunning dropped a perfecto on the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Maybe you remember June 17 it as the day O.J. was chased along the L.A. freeway. Or if you're tight with Dave Concepcion, you'll remember to send him birthday wishes. On that day mid-summer, Bostonians are thinking about Kevin Garnett's "anything is possible" celebration after winning the NBA Finals. If you like the Nets, Spurs, Pacers or Nuggets, your teams also deserve a "Happy Birthday" as they were brought into the league on that date in 1976.

You get the picture. A lot of crap happened in sports on June 17. I look at the calender to remember important dates like my family's birthdays, my anniversary with my girlfriend and when bills I can't pay were due. I don't think about dates in sports very often. The one that sticks out the most is July 18. I wrote down the date on a blue note card immediately after watching David Cone toss a perfect game against the Expos. But, July 18 could go by 20 years in a row without it coming to mind.

However, when June 17 comes this year, I will remember that date forever after. No, I'm not getting married. But in a sense, I'm beginning a relationship I hope to last forever. Me and baseball. Broadcaster and game. June 17 is my first game doing play-by-play for the Batavia Muckdogs, single-A affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals.

Calling any sporting event is exciting. There's a natural energy that you don't always pick up on as a fan. The 3...2...1 in your headphones. The nervousness about pronouncing a name correctly or interjecting the right anecdote or fact at the right time. The anticipation leading up to the first drop of the puck or swing of a kicker's leg. You never know what can happen. The first pitch will have a different feel, though.

Don't get me wrong, hockey and football are fine sports to announce. You practice all day how you're going to say "he scoreeeeees!" or "intercepted!" But, June 17 will be more than an exciting exercise. It will be reconnecting the with the game I've lost touch with since ending my college baseball career in 2005.

Sure, I've attended hundreds of baseball games since. I've studied thousands of statistics and written a bunch of articles for Biz of Baseball and VenuesToday magazine about America's game. What I've been missing, really, is being a part of the game.

From the booth, I'll still miss being on the mound. Every time I watch Felix Hernandez or Roy Halladay pitch, I feel the two-seemer in my finger tips. When a batter swings through, I do a little fist pump - you know, the one as a pitcher you learn to do inside your head so as not to show up any one. It won't be anything like doing that from the mound. It will - at least - be doing it as part of the team.

When I ended my college baseball career - if you can even call it that - I didn't think I'd miss my teammates.  Maybe I don't miss those guys, but I've missed having teammates. Learning their stories, coming in contact with so many different personalities and simply standing in the sun talking about baseball. And, baseball players - maybe only second to golfers in all of sports - have great stories. In baseball, you don't just have 25 teammates, you have 25 teammates who have stories about their last 25 teammates.

There's another aspect to this special day: June 17 will be the day many of the players remember as their first professional at-bat. The first "plate appearance" that puts them in baseball's books forever. June 17, the day they were paid to be in a box score. The first step in a staircase that could lead to a door with a $25 million contract behind it.

Ryan Howard played for the Batavia Muckdogs. So did Chase Utley. Maybe June 17 I can be up in the box pumping the fist in my imagination to strikeouts of the next great Major League Baseball player. How could anyone forget that day?

Greatness

If he wasn't 6-foot-7... if he didn't have a grin wider than a ruler.... and if he wasn't so damn good at basketball, Juan Paulino might have blended in at Finger Lakes Community College. Probably not though. A gigantic, Latino, Jay-Z lookalike from the Bronx, Juan stood out in the Big Apple. Imagine him at an Upstate college most known for its Woodsman's team and Natural Resource Conservation program.

Most of the white population seemed to be intrigued with Juan. Some of them would timidly say "good game," but most just stared as he walked by. Not to say he was the only minority - there were always a few black kids from the suburbs around the school, but few with similar backgrounds. Not many, though, with a tilt to their stride. The one letting you know they've been through things you don't understand.

On the basketball court, he wasn't graceful like Jordan, tough like Rodman or disciplined like Pippen. He wasn't fast like Rondo, fierce like Garnett or sharp like Pierce. He was a dash of all six. He was so audaciously better than anyone in junior college, you couldn't help but invoke the famous Billy Joel line: "Man, what are you doing here?"

The funny thing about Juan was how easily you could see his potential to be really great. The ease in which he dominated. The fundamentals that could be improved. Intangible passion for the game. But, being really great is quite different than being great. Great is local. Great is secure. Great is natural. Really great is transcending, risky and takes a hell of a lot of work.

A baseball player from the 30's Buck Rodgers may have best described greatness as "commitment to excellence and rejection of mediocrity." Not just to be, but refusing to not be. Most of us never reach really great at anything. Juan had it in his view and mid-way through his second year at FLCC, Division I schools were taking notice.

Coaches would come to a town built for tourists around a pleasant little lake to see Juan play in front of a couple hundred fans in a smelly gym with plastic bleachers. They'd watch as he brilliantly read his opponents' head fakes, pouncing at the right time to slap the ball into the half-empty stands. They'd see his balance and quickness on the dirty floor.  They'd leave in awe of the powerful forward scoring 30 points and ripping down 30 rebounds while getting slapped and hacked for 30 minutes.

While the competition in junior college isn't anywhere near D-I, other teams had guys who were his height. They had guys who - unlike Juan - played years and years of organized basketball. They had size, talent and experience. They didn't have anything close to Juan. Especially by the end of his sophomore season. I'd watched him go from clumsy to smooth, from pudgy to jacked, from a great D-III player to one with D-I talent. But, I noticed that something was going on with Finger Lakes star.

One night after leading a blowout win - who knows how many points and rebounds Juan had - 25/25 is a safe bet - I pulled up behind him at a stoplight. We knew each other slightly beyond a head nod. So, when he turned a little white Honda which probably wasn't his into McDonalds, I figured I'd stop in to congratulate him. But, when he realized I was following him, Juan paused in the lot long enough for me to park then slammed on the gas and high tailed it out of there.

It didn't make sense. I thought about the way he looked talking to people he didn't know well.  He looked  at them like a poker player trying to make a read. He spoke with caution. Not that he wasn't friendly, even at times gregarious, but the book was always half closed.  It wasn't long after the season ended and Juan had an offer to play with the best college basketball players on Earth, that I found out why he sped away.

He thought I was a cop.

Turned out Juan had failed to reject mediocrity. He was arrested for selling cocaine and eventually sentenced to one year in prison.

Go ahead and say it. Typical minority basketball player from the Bronx: good enough to play D-I but blows it by getting arrested. Sure, we could spend years debating whether a little 99-percent-white town could ever be a jury of Juan's peers. We could talk about why he felt he had to sell cocaine in the first place. We could talk about the hypocrisy of the legal system punishing petty drug dealers with much harsher penalties than those who drink and drive. But none of that matters. The fact is, Juan knew the consequences and shredded his D-I chances.

I thought he'd spent the rest of his life regretting not being really great. While I'm not the betting type, my chips were down on his story playing out as so many others' do: go in, meet up with more drug dealers, deal more drugs, get arrested again.

Isn't it great to be wrong sometimes?

After Juan was released from prison, Wells College men's basketball coach Joe Wojtylko came calling. After several hundred days living in a box, Juan wanted only to turn things around. "Something just woke me up," Paulino told AuburnPub.com in 2010. "It really helped that I went. It really helped that I went before it was too late. I learned a lot and decided to come back to school."

He wanted only to get his degree. The 6-foot-7 didn't want to be known as a baller. He wanted to be known as a good man and good father to his new daughter. But, Wojtylko's call lit the fire and passion that made Juan so great the previous one year before.

The Jay-Z lookalike with the one-foot grin spent 2009 and 2010 dominating. By the end of his second season, Juan was right back to 20/20 games.

A few camps and NBA teams sniffed around, but there were no takers. Juan ended up signing with an ABA team in Seattle and was eventually traded to New Jersey. It's clear he won't ever play with the likes of Rondo, Garnett or Pierce. He won't ever be really great on the basketball court. But, these days, Juan does reject mediocrity.

"I have a daughter now," Juan said in 2010. "I want her to see that I worked hard and I want her to do the same thing when she gets older. I want her to see that I have a diploma, that I wasn't a bum.”

Nope, he'll never be anything more than just great on the court. But don't try and convince me Juan Paulino didn't become really great.

Why Sports Coverage Often Defies Human Logic

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.

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

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