Holier Than Thou

I've already gone on record as expressing my displeasure with the Baseball Hall of Fame. When I visited last Summer, there was a shamefully small representation of the New York Mets, or anything relatively related to them on display there. My feeling, at the time, was that, "Well, Mike Piazza ought to get elected next year, so maybe that will give the Mets a little more presence."

I see, unfortunately, that I was mistaken.

I realize that the Hall of Fame itself doesn't really control who is or is not elected, it's a consortium of mostly cranky old Baseball Writers who seem to have an incredible desire to erase an entire era of Baseball from the records. They've already spoken, with recent years' balloting, by continually keeping Mark McGwire out of the Hall of Fame, and today, they spoke the loudest. On this year's Hall of Fame Ballot were Baseball's All Time Home Run King, a 7-time Cy Young Award Winner, a 3,000 hit man, and the Greatest offensive Catcher of All Time. Save for the 3,000 hit man, all of them fell under the suspicion, or proof, of having used PEDs at one point or another. None of them were elected to the Hall of Fame.

Being in New York, a lot of the reaction, both before and after the results were announced, focused on Mike Piazza. I'll spare the thoughts on Barry Bonds, since he's got enough people talking about him, and Roger Clemens, because fuck him. Craig Biggio, honorable though his 3,000 hits may be, didn't necessarily have the panache of a first ballot Hall of Famer. But Piazza seems to have caused the most controversy. Though he certainly looks the part of a steroid user, there's never been that smoking gun specifically implicating that he did use, outside of a brief passage in Jeff Pearlman's book on Roger Clemens (the groin injury he had in 2003 is also indicative of steroid use, but that's not proof). Regardless of that, both hosts and callers on WFAN, as well as posters on Facebook seemed so adamant that Piazza got screwed over that I was surprised.

I had a bit of a sneaking suspicion that, though there's no proof of guilt, Piazza would simply be considered guilty by association as a muscle-bound slugger from the 90s and 00s, but that ultimately, the BBWAA would have to recognize his achievements, along with those of Bonds and Fuckhead. That didn't happen and that's a shame. After hearing enough pro-Piazza rhetoric, I began to realize what was really going on here. It wasn't so much that Piazza got screwed. Everyone got screwed. The same talk is probably going on over Bonds in San Francisco, and Biggio in Houston. Nobody likes Clemens, so screw him. Ultimately, it's a problem with the system. There needs to be a better way of deciding who's in and who's not in the Hall of Fame, because the BBWAA have proven themselves far too morally stilted to make an accurate decision. The Veterans Committee was reformed some time ago, and the committee to elect players on the ballot should be reformed as well. I don't believe any living Hall of Famers have any kind of say. Why don't they? Why don't broadcasters, who follow the game on a daily basis, have a say?

The other thing that bothers me about all this is the whole issue of morality. I read these quotes from people who do get to vote that say things like [sic] "How can I vote for Mark McGwire and look my child in the eye?" I've made the argument over Pete Rose and I'll restate it here. It is called the Hall of Fame for a reason. It's not the Hall of Morals, or the Hall of Good Behavior, or the Hall of Clean Living. It's the Hall of FAME. That means that the best players who have ever played the game must be recognized and honored there, personality be damned. Babe Ruth was soused his entire career and he's the greatest hero Baseball has ever seen. Ty Cobb was a virulent racist who used to slide into bases with his spikes up. The Hall of Fame is dotted with all sorts of players with unsavory personalities or players with questionable behavior. But they were still deemed the best of the era they played in. The Steroid era, like it or not, is a part of Baseball History, and the players that were the best, though they were doping, have to be held to the same standard. These players were simply taking advantage of the fact that the great Commissioner and all the Owners willingly turned a blind eye to what was going on and only instituted a steroid testing policy once everything was far too out of control. Why should they be blamed now? Why should they be blamed at all when nobody will ever know for sure who did or didn't use steroids (short of the results of the Mitchell report and the 2003 testing)? It's not as though cheating is somehow a new invention, either. Players have always been looking for a way to get an edge, somehow. As the world advanced, so did the methods of cheating. What makes a steroid user any worse than someone using Greenies or corking his bat?

The point is, this has become far too subjective and, basically, hypocritical. It's no different than, say, the All Star Game Balloting. Just one big popularity contest. I suppose I was simply deluding myself into thinking otherwise, and that maybe we'd be toasting the career of Mike Piazza across all of Metville tonight. At least his bat is there. For now, that appears to be as close as he's going to get.

WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!?

I wonder if that phrase will replace "THEY ARE WHO WE THOUGHT THEY WERE!" as the ridiculous, sports-related, oft-repeated all-purpose nonsensical phrase in American vernacular.

21 times, Brian McNamee parroted this phrase onto Roger Clemens' tape recorder, as he probably stood by and stared at his lawyers, asking for what he should say next.

I have no idea why I'm paying this story so much mind. Perhaps I'm just waiting for Clemens to be exposed as the liar and the fraud we know he is. Maybe I just endless possibilities in the humor of the situation.

We learned nothing from the Clemens/McNamee tape, other than Brian McNamee is a pretty pitiful character. But Clemens never challenged him, and McNamee never confessed to anything. The Press conference was even more ridiculous. Clemens behaved like a petulant child, told the Hall of Fame Voters to stick their votes where the Sun don't shine and then stomped off.

How the hell do you call your own Press Conference, and then get mad and storm out? That just slays me to the point where I wonder if he staged it. His anger seems forced, almost false. In reality, if he doesn't care about his legacy, and he doesn't care about the records, and his career accomplishments, and the Hall of Fame, why is he even out there? If all that matters is his health, why is he shelling out all this money for conferences and lawyers and poorly-shot YouTube videos proclaiming his innocence to a world that really doesn't believe him.

Somewhere, I picture Mike Piazza. Mike Piazza is sitting at home, perhaps in Florida, perhaps in Manhattan, by himself. He's sitting on his couch, with a giant bowl of popcorn, watching this madness on TV. He sits there grinning, laughing his ass off as this circus continues to unfold.

Good and Evil

There were two stories that seemed to shape the landscape of the New York Sports scene on Sunday night.

First, Eli Manning and the Giants overcame some ghosts from the past and put together perhaps their strongest performance of the season in a 24-14 victory over the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in the NFC Wildcard game.

Second was Roger Clemens' interview with Mike Wallace on 60 Minutes, in which he repeatedly denied the accusations by Brian McNamee that he used steroids.

One story focuses on a sympathetic character. The other involves a complete and total jerk.

And if you listened to WFAN last night, you weren't sure which one was which.

It's baffling to me why Giants fans continue to kill Eli Manning. I know that he's not exactly the picture of consistency at QB, and he's pretty much been set up to fail under ridiculously high expectations as the #1 draft pick in 2004. Over the 4 seasons, he's alternately looked brilliant and at the same time clueless. But he seems to have a knack for playing well when it matters most, as evidenced by the famous comeback against Denver in '05, and the last two games he's played, against New England and yesterday in Tampa. Although his numbers weren't eye-popping, they were excellent across the board. He basically managed a perfect game, didn't make any mistakes, and when the Giants were behind early and struggling, he remained calm and stuck to his game plan, smartly conducting two touchdown drives in the second quarter, and then a magnificent 8 minute drive over the 3rd and 4th quarters resulting in the game clinching touchdown.

So why are Giants fans continuing to kill this guy, talking about how he's not good enough to win a Super Bowl or ever be a franchise Quarterback? He basically just led the Giants to their most significant victory since they went to the Super Bowl in 2000, and put them into a matchup next weekend against their most hated rival, the Dallas Cowboys, where they probably look better than any other road team playing next weekend in the Divisional Playoffs. Giants fans, I think it's time to stop complaining and appreciate what you've got. Yes, he can be frustrating to watch, and he could very easily crumple next weekend in Dallas, but considering the state of NFL Quarterbacks (and the 49ers in particular have suffered greatly at the QB position this season), Eli Manning isn't so bad by comparison.

One caller summed it up rather well: If I were a professional athlete, I'd never want to come to New York. You can't please anyone.

However, none of this was quite as galling as hearing at least a few people call in and somehow make some sense out of the now-infamous Roger Clemens' interview.

I didn't watch 60 Minutes. However, WFAN played the interview shortly after 9pm (and a link to the interview is included above). I didn't have a chance to see it, but I heard that Clemens looked uncomfortable. The interview itself seemed rather mild. Mike Wallace has certainly lost a bit off his fastball over time (ha ha), and seemed to ask some challenging questions and not follow up on them. Not surprisingly, Clemens continues to deny having used steroids, and seems to shift most of the blame on his trainer, Brian McNamee. But why would McNamee lie about Clemens? Clemens assumes this is so he could avoid jail time, but then, what does that have to do with Clemens himself? I'm sure Clemens would like us to think that they're going after him like they went after Bonds. Of course, Clemens tried to make himself out to be the victim; that's what he'd like all of us to believe. His tearjerker of a story about pitching hurt in the World Series just made us all feel terrible for him. He says he's being found guilty without a trial, although the 11 pages of evidence in the Mitchell report are pretty damning against him. I'm not sure that too many people are buying the act. The ones that are are probably the same people who think Eli Manning is the worst person ever.

It pretty much boils down to this: Roger Clemens, who the hell are you trying to fool? You are a liar. And I can't wait until the day you are exposed as the fraud and the phony that you are.

Quick Hits: Clemens, Night Games, a Decent Sopranos Episode

Although I caught a little of yesterday's Yankee game, I missed the sickening spectacle of seeing Roger Clemens's Evita/Lou Gehrig moment, announcing to the huddled and pinstriped masses his intention to return this season to the Yankees (at $8,888 per pitch). To commemorate the event, ESPN.com has freed up Bill Simmons's 2001 column in which he explains why Clemens is more than just another guy who leaves his team for big free agent money; rather, he's the Antichrist.

Slate does the same thing with Seth Stevenson's 2004 piece:

Also: You are fat. They say you've got this hard-core training regimen, with calisthenics and whatnot. I'm not seeing it. You're wicked fat.

Oh, perhaps that was uncalled for. You know what else was uncalled for? Sucking, every time it mattered. You ruined my childhood, fatty. Because the trauma you put me through as a young, impressionable Red Sox fan has stunted my emotional growth, I revert to a juvenile mind-set whenever I see you. Like repeatedly calling you fat.

That's Clemens for you, never exactly bringing out the best in either his teammates or his detractors (I'd say fans, too, but he doesn't have any).

And you know, people forget this now, but there was a time when Clemens was really, really out of shape. Double chin and everything. Like, "Is that Clemens or Clemenza?" fat. It's good to be reminded of this from time to time when TV guys are fawning over him about his offseason training routine.

Along the way Stevenson offhandedly drops in a suggestion that Clemens would probably give very serious consideration to if he thought of it: hiring himself out start by start to the highest bidder. In fact, I bet you he tries that next season.

News on teams we actually like
I've got night-game-itis this week. If I couldn't make it past the second quarter for any of those ridiculous Mavs-Warriors games (go Warriors!), then there's no way I'm going to manage to get past, say, the fifth inning of these games versus los Gigantes. With that said, Zito v. Perez tonight is a really compelling matchup. Two young(ish) enigmatic lefties squaring off always makes for a good time. I'll do my best to stick it out.

Mets2Moon and I will be there Friday to welcome the Mets back to Shea. And we'll be sure to avoid the parking lot.

Green is the valley blue is the night
Now, finally, a Sopranos episode you could sink your teeth into. Not perfect, mind you, but who's expecting that anymore? Nothing else last night quite hit the same pitch-perfect tone as the Los Lobos song they used for the closing credits, but all in all this was more like it. No more "who's that guy?" out-of-left-field characters wasting our time. Paulie, Christopher, Tony, A.J., Dr. Melfi. Sad-sack Tim Daly, just trying to hack out a Law & Order episode. Lap dances. Some poor schlemeil getting his ass kicked over owed money. The old, good stuff. When Tony grabs a gun hearing a car revving up the driveway behind him, a genuine "here we go" chill moment.

I don't expect the show to regain its old fastball in the last four episodes, but if it can keep changing speeds and locating, we'll be fine. And when Chris Moltisanti gets got, and I'm convinced he will, that'll be the most genuinely sad death of a sociopath in TV history. Ever notice how his name is an echo of Frank Pentangeli's from Godfather II? "Many saints"/"five angels"? If Tony has to do Chris in himself, it'll be like Big Pussy + Tony B. times infinity.