Just flipped to AMC, which is showing For the Love of the Game. Those familiar with the movie may remember that the Tigers' center fielder robs a home run to record the 23rd out of Billy Chapel's perfect game. Seems awfully familiar.
Very shortly, Rickey Henderson will give his Hall of Fame speech. Rickey, of course, played many years with Jose Canseco on the Oakland A's. Without turning this into a Raul Ibanez thing, let's just acknowledge there's a probability greater than zero and less than one that he took steroids.
So here's my wish for his speech: Rickey gets announced, walks up to the podium, basks in the applause for a few minutes, coaxes a little more to draw it out, adjusts the mic, flashes a huge grin, and says, "Hey, guess what? I took steroids. You voted me in. Nothing you can do about it now. Suckers!"
Of course, this all rests on the premise that he actually took steroids and would be willing to throw away lots and lots of future monies. That said, he's one of the few people in the history of baseball who'd be crazy enough to pull it off.
Over at Craig "Shyster" Calcattera's NBC Sports blog, I had an Andy Rooney moment after reading a post he made regarding a failed attempt at a start-up baseball league in 1959. The comment being more substantive than anything I've posted here in a while, I thought I should re-post it here.
Call me crazy, but I could see the idea of a rival league gaining momentum in the not-too-distant future as the live game experience continues down the path toward stimulatory overload. Assuming that chairback touchscreen monitors and the like will become MLB-wide status quo within a few decades (and assuming that most farm and indy-league teams will piggyback), I expect an underserved market of fans to emerge whose ideal live baseball experience is still an escape from their plugged-in, clamorous world--not the extension of it that MLB have become. It seems the market is already palpable, and it's not just made up of people over fifty.
I'm 25. I love the internet. I love loud music. I love things that flash lights and make noise when I touch them. However, I do not desire these things when I'm watching live baseball. Some things go together well. Others do not. Modern MLB games are like fine merlot with Skittles and a side of fireworks. I long to be one of those fans in the grainy newsreel footage, and I worry for the fate of the endangered organist.
Two words, Eddie: Speaking. Gigs.
"While the NCAA, its member conferences and schools, and its for-profit business partners reap millions of dollars from revenue streams ..., former student athletes whose likenesses are utilized to generate those profit centers receive no compensation whatsoever," the suit claims.I'm not saying that NCAA athletes shouldn't be compensated, but I think that ship sailed on O'Bannon--ohhh--fourteen years ago.
The lawsuit seeks unspecified damages and calls on the NCAA to pay the former athletes what it has allegedly made from the use of their images.
(Oh, right, we have a blog...)
Prior to Tuesday night's game, Grammy Award-winning singer Sheryl Crow performed the Star Spangled Banner at Busch Stadium.
But she didn't sing O Canada -- and neither did anybody else. Instead, an instrumental version of Canada's national anthem was piped through stadium speakers.
After the game, the 28-year-old Morneau told reporters that Major League Baseball could have handled the situation better.
"I wasn't very impressed with that to tell you the truth," he said Tuesday night. "You figure they could find somebody to come and sing the song. They have a hockey team here, the Canadian teams play here.
"It's something that didn't really go over too well. I think if it happened the other way around, if they were playing in Toronto and they did that, it would have been a lot bigger deal. But nothing you can do about it."
Now, for the next installment in my continuing series of commentaries on trades between bad franchises no one cares about, news today is that Zach Randolph has been traded by the L.A. Clippers to the Memphis Grizzlies.