Tuesday, July 13, 2010

At the All Star break

George Steinbrenner passed away this morning. Like most non Yankees fans, I down right loath the Yankees. They've long been the best team money can buy and therefore emblematic of what's wrong with America, and America's game. Be that as it may, it is a hard week for the Yankees, having also recently lost "the Voice of God," long time announcer Bob Sheppard.

Sheppard was an old school baseball man cut from a similar cloth as Red Barbar, Mel Allen, and Vince Scully. Serious about reporting and serious about baseball. I believe that Bob Costas is one of the few sportscasters to truly appreciate the nuance of such master craftsmen.

Steinbrenner may have micromanaged his club and at times become a caricature of himself, a wealthy tyrant who handled his subordinates autocratically rather than trusting their wisdom and experience to care for his franchise. He operated from the "strict-father" model. An American titan.

In his book about Watergate, Jimmy Breslin revealed that the Nixon Administration intimidated, harassed and extorted the Yankee owner and ship builder simply because he made contributions to Democratic campaigns. That much at least makes me a little less resentful toward Steinbrenner.

As Hunter Thompson might say, he "stomped on the Terra." Steinbrenner left a big mark on baseball and in that way on American history. That much is undeniable.

What could be more American, or more perfect on a summer evening, after playing hard all day long at the fair, than to crawl onto your dad's arms and watch the Home Run Derby on TV before having to go to bed? Two of my girls did just that last night. Ellen, who is eight has a deeper tan than most Dominican outfielders. Annamarie, who is five is missing two of her front teeth, therefore lisping everything she says.

We sat there watching Boston Red Sox slugger David Ortiz match records and the girls were each a constant stream of questions. Why do all those little kids get get to play in the outfield? Could I do that? 'Cause I'm on the tee-ball team, so I should get to do that too, right? What time is it in Anaheim? Do the people in the stands get to keep the balls they catch? Why does everybody wave their arms that same way? Why do they only use WOOD bats? Why don't they have aluminum bats like us? Why is the pitcher standing behind that fence? Why does the fence only have three squares? Why don't they just have a fence with for squares and have the pitcher throw the ball OVER the fence? Why doesn't David Ortiz run around the bases when he hists a home run? Is this baseball or not? So really this is the Home Run Derby and not a baseball game, but it's a different kind of game that's kinda LIKE baseball? Right, Daddy?

I assume that there would still be questions, and most of the questions would be exactly the same if they were boys. But one question they each asked independently (at different times, each when the other wasn't in the room) was one that no American son would ask. "Why can't GIRLS play baseball?"

Other dads would probably answer, "girls play SOFTball." I wasn't sure how to answer. Part of me wanted to say "I don't know why not, Honey, it doesn't seem fair does it?" But as enlightened and liberal as that might seem, I thought it would still be a cop-out. Instead I told them each, "I don't see why they can't. Just because there aren't any professional woman players now doesn't mean there shouldn't be. There used to be (but I didn't go into the whole story of World War II). I wondered if Jackie Robinson ever asked his dad why there weren't any black men in the Majors and what his dad might've said to him.

It will be interesting to see how Ubaldo Jimenez does in the All Star game tomorrow night. I'd like to see the National League actually win for once. In a year that has had an unprecedented four no-hitters (which should've been five, if it weren't for the umpire stealing Detroit Tiger Armando Galarraga's against Cleveland earlier this summer), it would be exciting to see Jimenez pitch a perfect game. 

Along with the buzz about the seemingly super-human rookie Stephen Strasburg joining the Washington Nationals, this seems to be the year of the pitcher. That's refreshing since it was the big hitters like Sosa, McGuire and Bonds a few years ago that sullied baseball's reputation with all their steroids.

I had the wonderful opportunity of seeing Arizona play at Dodger's Stadium a few years ago on different nights with different friends who had each been pitchers in high school. Neither were fans of either the Dodgers or the Diamondbacks. Both told me their were fans of whoever was pitching. 

When she painted and redecorated her room for a 4H project this summer, I was tickled to see my oldest daughter Grace, who is eleven, insist on adding the finishing touch of her Randy Johnson bobble-head. It was a great memory to attend an Arizona Diamondbacks game with her and her grandfather back home in Phoenix on Father's Day a couple of years ago. Last summer all three girls took me to a game in Kansas City.  

The D'Backs are of course dead last this year, but hey, as any Cubs fan will tell you, the All Star game is just the half-way mark. A lot can happen between now and October.

It's been a long time, almost as long as I've been alive, since Congress passed Title IX which reads,
No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance...
But hey, any Cubs fan will tell you that the All Star break is just the half way mark, a lot can happen in a few years. Someday we might just hear the voice of God announce, "Pitching for the National League, number five... Annamarie Mallory."

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