Final Bush Bashes: 34 Days Until the End of an Error

The administration found over $700 billion for the financial institutions. And were devious enough to tie any oversight to assets sold at auction. Which none of the financial institutions are doing. Result: free money! Free to be spent on "retreats" or corporate jets or bonuses to incompetents or any other damned thing striking the fancy of these bozos.
But now Detroit needs help.
Tennessee's junior Senator materialized long enough to propose that any money for the auto makers should include a requirement that the United Auto Workers' members should be forced to take wage cuts to the level of the car plants in the south. Was there ever a clearer statement of the constituency of the modern Republican party?
Citizens whose addresses are on Wall Street, whose bonuses range up to 8 figures (not even counting salaries and stock options), who are getting $700 Billion, are free to answer only to consciences that they apparently don't have. But actual American workers, people who sweat for a living and whose earnings are figured by the hour, have to accept a major hit to see $15 billion in assistance for their companies. That's less than four months of Iraq war money, compared to right at 13 1/2 years of Iraq war money for the financial boys. (I apologize for the math error previously posted. I errantly figured the time at $1 billion per day, when the correct figure is $1 billion per week spent in Iraq. I should never do math in public.) Which also points out that much of this financial/economic crisis/credit crunch has its roots in that godawful war. But I digress.
The Bushies are taking one last run at rewarding the Pioneers, and one last slap at people who have to work. They want to use the "Right to Work" states as the standard. What a fabulous bit of doublespeak that one is! "Right to Work" laws have nothing to do with anyone working. They have only to do with protecting employers from lawsuits when they dismiss people for whatever excuse strikes the Boss' fancy. "Right to Work" laws are political payoffs from people who took sums of money (in campaign contributions) that would make the Illinois Governor blush, directly to the people who made those payoffs. Quid pro quo? You bet your ass!
George W. Bush believes that the United Auto Workers' leadership should sell out their membership, and tie them to the wages of the south's working poor. Hey, they might pull it off. These are the same people who have convinced us rebels that those nasty unions would be an awful thing to get involved with, way down here in Dixie. Yeah, I can see the reasoning. Those terrible unions might get some folks some better wages, overtime pay for overtime worked, better health care, better pensions, safer working conditions...I can see why we'd want to keep them unions out of here!
I saw Phil Silvers on an old What's My Line rerun the other night. They were talking about his old show Sgt. Bilko. We're now watching the last stand of the Commander-in-Chief-Bilker. And we're all the bilkees.
And he didn't even buy us dinner first.

Sensible Sox

Boston Red Sox owner John Henry distributed an email tonight, notifying members of the Boston media that the Sox' pursuit of Mark Teixeira has ended. The message made it plain that when agent Scott Boras, the son of Satan, told Red Sox ownership and management that he had in hand multiple better offers than the 8 years at $184 million that Mr. Henry had put on the table, the Red Sox solons walked.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Three Cheers!
It looks to me like Mr. Henry brought a whole pile of big old Iraqi-type shoes to throw at the head of Scott Boras, the son of Satan. And I couldn't be prouder!
The claim by Boras, the son of Satan, indicates that someone/s are proposing more years, or more than $23 million per season for the switch-hitting first baseman, late of the Angels. Go ahead, big boy: take it. God bless. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!
Either Boras, the son of Satan, is lying again (which is my bet, as his lips were surely moving), or other Major League teams have lost their minds.
The Sox know how risky an eight year deal is. Look up Ramirez, Manny. The Sox know how risky those kinds of dollars are. Look up Drew, J.D. They found their line, stuck to it, and I now have more respect for Theo Epstein, John Henry, Tom Werner and, yes, even Larry Lucchino, than I have ever had before.
We told Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it.
All of baseball needs to tell Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it, permanently.
He, the son of Satan, is feeling his oats after watching Greg Genske get Sabathia's contract, and Darek Braunecker get AJ Burnett's, from the Steinbrenner boys, and figured the Red Sox would be easy prey to manipulate in the ever more expensive game of keeping up with the pinstripes. Not so much. Not this time.
No one except the Yankees can afford to be wrong at those years for those dollars. Even the Red Sox, Mets, Dodgers and Angels would be crippled for years by a contract of that value that didn't produce for the length of the deal.
Scotty, the son of Satan, thought he could play us. If he was bluffing, and calls back, I would reduce the offer by one year and $40 million. And if he doesn't immediately accept, I'd cut it again in 15 minutes.
It is high time that baseball makes it clear to this megalomaniac that he doesn't own the game, he is not bigger than the game, and he will not run the game.
And if, indeed, the Yankees have offered 10 years at $300 million, I hope they sign Tex, and then give Manny an identical deal, and, heck, give Derek Lowe 10 years while you're at it. And then, as your team continues to age and pay people who are broken down for not playing, we'll keep winning World Series with players we draft and develop.
Sorry, Tex. You'd have enjoyed getting a ring next year.
And I'm perfectly delighted to go to war with Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis.

Thanks, Yankees!

The Bronx Money Machine has saved the next few years, five specifically, for the Atlanta Braves. Save the "It's not about the money" crap for another day, please: after the Braves offered AJ Burnett $80 million for 5 years, the Yankees bought him for a mere $2.5 million more. Not, mind you, $2.5 million more per season. $2.5 million more over 5 seasons.
Anybody want to try to make the case that $500,000 at that level covers the difference in the cost, and quality, of living between NYC and Hotlanta?
Didn't think so.
But this isn't a loss for the Braves. It is a chance to spend their money reasonably and responsibly on players who can, again, reasonably be expected to perform for the length of the deal. Five years of Mr. Burnett is six DL trips, minimum. And he's aging.
Five years for Burnett makes sense only for the Yankees, for they are the only team in Major League Baseball who can erase that expensive a mistake and never miss a beat.
Count your blessings, Braves' GM Frank Wren! The Steinbrenner boys saved your hide.

Braves New World?

The Atlanta Braves had a couple of cups of coffee with success between their mid-60's move from Milwaukee and the 1986 change that made them the best franchise in Major League Baseball, but for most of that time they were terrible.
After the 1985 season, former manager Bobby Cox left the Toronto Blue Jays to return as the Braves' General Manager. He drafted or traded for Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Chipper Jones, Jeff Blauser, David Justice, Mark Lemke, Mark Wohlers, Steve Avery and Ron Gant, among others. These players were the foundation for the tremendous run that began in 1991, with General Manager Cox having hired himself to take over as field Manager, clearing the way for Ted Turner to recruit John Schuerholz to follow Cox as GM. Their partnership produced an unprecedented run of success in all of professional sport.
The Braves seemed, at times, ruthless in their decision making. Cox had traded the beloved two-time MVP Dale Murphy to clear the way for David Justice to play. The Cox-Schuerholz team allowed future Hall of Famers Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux to leave when they were adjudged too old and/or too expensive to continue with the team. Ron Gant was banished in, seemingly, the prime of his career. He never had another season to match his Braves success. They dealt quickly and harshly with those who disrupted the clubhouse. They acted swiftly to make trades that made the difference (Fred McGriff) and spent what was necessary to succeed (Glavine, Maddux, Smoltz, the Jones Boys, Andres Galarraga). But their trades were rarely reckless, and their spending was almost always on sure things.
Cox remains in the dugout, but John Schuerholz moved from General Manager to Team President before the 2008 season. Frank Wren was promoted to GM.
The tale may soon be told on Mr. Wren's administration.
The Braves have offered A.J. Burnett a five year, $80 million contract to take over as their ace.
In the 2008-2009 hot stove period, no one in their right mind would ever consider giving Kerry Wood a five year starter's deal for that kind of money. The reports are that Wood is on the verge of a contract with the Cleveland Indians that would pay him $20 million for two years to close. That seems reasonable, as Wood had a good year closing for the Cubs in 2008. His innings were limited as a closer. His career-long injury problems were kept to a minimum. The longest he was down was due to a reported blister problem.
Burnett is six months older than Kerry Wood. And if you compare their career statistics, leaving out 2008, as Wood closed, and Burnett had what, in all likelihood, will prove to be his career year, you find some very interesting comparisons:

Burnett: 69-66, 176 starts, 1155 IP, 988 h, 483 ER, 482 bb, 1047 k, 3.76 ERA
Wood: 72-57, 178 starts, 1128.2 IP, 875 h, 461 ER, 546 bb, 1299 k, 3.68 ERA

Wood has been, marginally at most points, the better pitcher. The tragedy of Kerry Wood, as most fans know, has been the 12 trips to the disabled list. But A.J. Burnett has been on the DL 10 times. Each has had a lost season: 2006 for Wood, 2003 for Burnett. They so closely mirror one another that they each had 4 starts in their lost campaign.
Frank Wren thinks he knows something that no one else, other than the money-means-nothing-to-us New York Yankees, knows.
He better be right, because if he's not, he's going to be saddled with a contract that will cripple the Braves for the next half-decade.

Time Heals All Wounds...But This One: 28

I usually turn on the Monday Night Football game. Not tonight.
I usually look at the poster on my wall. Not today.
I often turn the radio up when a certain artist's songs come on. Not right now.
John Lennon died 28 years ago today. Howard Cosell informed the nation during Monday Night Football. Stations go out of their way to play John's music on this date. Yoko issues statements about John's legacy. People hold candlelight vigils.
I don't need it.
I can't take it.
I missed the Beatles. The Kennedys and King were dead by the time I knew the world. But John was The Guy.
John mattered. His opinions and following scared Nixon. There was no more honorable position in my early political awareness than "Nixon Enemy." He scared them so badly they tried to throw him out of the country. The Supreme Court, back when they used to make good decisions, wouldn't let them. It was cool to look up to John. He wasn't embarassing. Ever. Not even on the "Lost Weekend." He spent it with Harry Nilsson, for crying out loud. Don't get cooler than that.
What would John have written about Iraq? How would he have lent his voice to the protest over Bush's destruction of our civil liberties? How might he have shared the move to grandparenting, the new millenium, Obama's election or his ever-growing love for Yoko?
It's too hard, still too painful to think about.
I don't understand, and don't intend to understand, how any person, even a crazy one, can take another life. It just doesn't make sense. But why did it have to be John? Of all the people just taking up space, why the most creative, most powerful, most vibrant figure of his generation, or any since?
28...38...108...I don't need it. I'd like to take December 8 off the calendar. Just eradicate it.
If only that could give him back to us.

Alma Mater, What's the Matter?

Our college is in trouble.
They need the churches of our little conference to pony up on the plus-side of $500,000 to meet December payroll and get them to the first of the year. Or else.
Let's look back.
In 1982, the Board of Trustees ended a 20-year presidency at the college. It was probably time, but was difficult anyway. Those things always are. (Full disclosure: the man who left the presidency in 1982 became my father-in-law in 2002.) At that point, the college had an 8-figure endowment. They brought in a very, very fine man, who had been a very, very fine Dean at one of our sister institutions. As President of our school, he had been a very fine dean. Decent man, but bland doesn't begin to cover it.
When that term ended, early, the Board wanted someone dynamic and visionary. So they allowed themselves to be played like so many Stradivari, and hired one of the nation's great con men. He spent his time and the College's money chartering planes to China, making donations to Asian institutions which would bestow honorary doctorates upon him, and attempting to remove faculty and staff who asked questions about his shenanigans. Which the Board of Trustees allowed him to continue.
Finally, sobriety returned, and the con man was sent on his way.
Next, another good Dean, the best of the post-1982 group, but a Dean nonetheless.
Finally, Fred Zuker arrived. Fred beautified the campus. He developed a neighborhood association. He got the city to close some streets bounding the campus, so everybody felt safer. Fred's a friendly guy. So he brought some friends with him. And one of them, assigned to the Financial Aid office, handed out bushel baskets full of financial aid that the college did not have. The President fiddled while Rome burned. Now, he's gone too.
And so is the endowment.
The college received just short of $400,000 from the Conference in 2007. It was scheduled to receive a like amount in 2008, and is approved for the same number in 2009. At a time when only 82% of the total apportionment is being paid across the Conference. And, while I haven't seen this year's figures, I'd bet the farm I don't have that it will be lower this year. Bad economy, anyone?
This is a tough time to be in the charitable giving business.
With a few members having lost jobs, others being concerned about possible layoffs, and everyone anxious about where this economic mess will end up, my church's accounts are down for the year. But we still paid our apportionments in full. Yes, that's paid, because my people are such stewards of their United Methodist identity that they make payments monthly, January through October, to satisfy their apportionment in 10 months. No credit to me; that's the way they've done it for years.
Few of our churches perform like mine. Most of those that will pay 100% by the end of the year are scrambling right now to raise the necessary funds. And an ever-increasing number of them will not pay 100%. Some only dream, nostalgically, of reaching that mark.
We are also working right now to support some of our institutions that care for the needy. UM Neighborhood Centers is scrambling to keep the wolf from the door, as is Reelfoot Rural Ministry. The elderly housing agency has jettisoned the poorest of their residences; cost too much to do ministry there, don't you know.
And in the middle of all of this, our college wants help.
It costs $25,000 for one year for one student to attend our college. Let that soak in for a moment.
What percentage of the families that are about to be asked to give to the college can afford to send their children to school there? (More disclosure: I have a step-son in school there. Through a lot of Aid, and by the skin of our teeth, financially. My daughter attends the University of Memphis.) How many underprivileged kids is this church-related college educating? Who, exactly, are they serving in 2008?
I do not relish the idea of losing the college. (Final disclosure: I am an alum, as is my wife, her brother and my parents. My grandfather chaired the Board of Trustees in the late 50' and early 60's. I am grateful for what the college has done for our families.) But I also do not like being told that we, across the Conference, have to produce for the college north of a half-million dollars, on top of a $400,000 apportionment, at a time when most of us are being badgered to pay every nickel in apportionments possible, we're scraping everywhere we can for donations of food, toys and winter clothing for the needy, and, I suspect, most of us in the clergy are foregoing even the cost of living adjustment that would merely keep us even with last year.
The US Constitution does not guarantee CITI Group, AIG or Lehman Brothers the right to run their businesses into the ground with the expectation that the American public would bail them out of holes of their own making afterward. Nor are GM, Ford and Chrysler guaranteed the right to make terrible automobiles, treat their workers as expensive nuisances, and fight every environment-friendly proposal that ever came down the pike, and, again, be bailed out of holes of their own making afterward.
In a like manner, the United Methodist Book of Discipline does not guarantee the Lambuth College Board of Trustees the right to mismanage the school for more than a generation, and expect the churches to then fix their self-inflicted problems for them.
Like the decisions being made in Washington right now, our leaders may choose to obligate us for those bad decisions. But there is one difference that should be noted: the folk in Washington can tell the country how they are going to spend our money, and at least until the next election, there's not one thing we can do about it. On the other hand, there is absolutely no way whatsoever to dictate to those people in the pews that they should bail out the college for 26 years of bad decisions.

Why the Happiness?

Dustin Pedroia and Tito Francona are overjoyed because of:

A) Pedroia's 2007 AL Rookie of the Year Award

B) Winning the 2007 World Series

C) Pedroia's 2008 Gold Glove Award

D) Pedroia's 2008 Silver Slugger Award

E) Pedroia's 2008 AL MVP Award

F) The 6 year (with an option for 2015) contract that the Sox and their Mighty Mite have agreed to today

Answer: All of the above, but especially F!

OK, Now the Truth

I really, really tried to think happy thoughts (see previous post). Like it would help tonight. I may be fooling everybody else. But I'm not fooling me.
Or, at least, not my migraine.
I don't know where these things came from. Neither of my parents are headache sufferers. But as long as I can remember, they come. Changes in the weather. Too much caffeine. Too little. Certain foods, some known to me that I strenuously avoid; others, most certainly, still a mystery. Too little sleep. That last one is murder for a notorious insomniac. The triggers are many, and scattered around through life like little land mines, just waiting for the weight of a footstep.
I stepped on one today.
I'm not even sure which one(s).
That prescription does me no good. Sometimes, when I am awake and recognize the onset, the Excedrin Migraine Strength can mute them a bit. But I have to take it right at the beginning; if the thing gets hold of me, nothing stops it but sleep, and lots of it.
Sleep didn't work today.
If you care about me and get scared over this next part, don't worry. I'm not contemplating. But I do understand why some of the miserable wretches I've read about who have these things go on for a month or longer kill themselves. My worst have lasted about a week. I've had a kidney stone. Didn't hurt like this. I've cut off the end of a finger. No comparison. I've been through a divorce. Not even close, although I don't seem to get as many of them since the end of that marriage.
I can't make the childbirth comparison, obviously, but that's the only thing I can even imagine outpacing this little joy.
The incapacitating nature of the migraine reveals human character to us sufferers. There are, actually, two kinds of people after all: those who get migraines, and those who don't. Those who get them are always, always, always sympathetic to others who know the plight. And those who don't are just as uniformly indifferent to a person in the throes of one.
Our kitchen sink is 50 feet from our bed, through two walls and a door. The drip in that sink sounds like a bass drum surrounding my head when a migraine is in process. The tick of my wife's batter operated clock-on the far wall of our bathroom-sounds like the Sixty Minutes watch amplified by Led Zeppelin's old speaker arrangement. Light-the slightest light, like the clock on the cable box, the "on" light on The Roommate's breathing machine, the alarm clock on the dimmest setting-are spears jammed repeatedly into the eyeball that fronts that particular version of the migraine. Sometimes they are accompanied by violent nausea and flashes of light that are visible only to the one with the headache.
Such has been today.
But tomorrow's another day...

A Bragging Moment

We kicked off Advent yesterday by incorporating the Hanging of the Green order into each of the Morning Worship services. In case anyone wants to correct me, that it's supposed to be "Hanging of the Greens" rather than my way, I claim no purity. I simply own my southern upbringing, and images of turnip or collard greens being strewn about the sanctuary don't do anything for me.
Our youth led the order. Our kids have led worship several times since I've been here. They are outstanding! They listen. They practice. They seem to like being involved, down to a one. It is a privilege and a joy to work with them, and to put them in charge.
I have, previously, sat in the preacher chair, right in the middle of the action, when they've led things. I have wanted to be there, close, in case anyone got lost, stuck or anything else. Yesterday, I sat in the congregation until it was my turn, about half-way through the service. I wanted them to know that I believe in them, trust them, and knew that they could handle things. I do, I do, and they did.
With all of the challenges out there in the big, scary world, it is a great encouragement to see teenagers who are choosing (yeah, sure, some with the parental foot applied to the point of motivation) to be at church, involved, leading and active, growing their faith. This is not to say that they never make mistakes. They are kids. There are usually issues from school, home and otherwise to work through. But so far, this has also proved to be a place where kids rally around kids when the problems arise, and, more remarkably, the parents have done the same. It is so tempting for us parent-types to want to insulate our own from any others that make bad choices; innoculation by distance, don't you know? But it is truly not an issue of "bad kids"--just kids. And they need love and encouragement even more when they hit a bump.
But they will hit fewer of those bumps if they are busy with matters of the faith and the church, rather than being turned loose to find their own involvements.
It was a very good day, the fruit of hard work by parents and youth leaders, and a significant level of commitment by a group of young people who are all too frequently written off as immature and indifferent. Well done, all!

A Few of My Thankfulness Things (Don't Read Anything Into the Order, Please)

1. The whole extended family continues to be upright and taking nourishment
2. The lousy economy has so far had a limited impact on my family and parishoners, although we're all thankful we're not retiring right now. Our prayers go out to those who haven't sailed as smoothly.
3. Daughter has passed the 32 week mark in the Grandchild Production Department. That's a significant mile-marker, and I'm grateful.
4. While two of my parishoners are on deployment, one will be home with his family for Thanksgiving. The other has had some remarkable experiences in southern Iraq, like visiting Ur and the traditional site of Abraham's home. And he should be with his family next Thanksgiving.
5. The Red Sox haven't done anything stupid yet in the free agent market.
6. There has been an absolutely wonderful run of books published this fall. Titles include: John Meacham's American Lion; Andrew Bacevich's The Limits of Power; Artie Lange's Too Fat to Fish (not a biography of me, and most certainly R-rated), Kathleen Norris' Acedia and Me; Carlo D'Este's Warlord (a study of Churchill's career in warfare); Detlev Claussen's bio of T.W. Adorno, One Last Genius; Richard Cook's Alfred Kazin; and Ingrid Rowland's Giordano Bruno: Philosopher and Heretic. There are others; those should hold you.
7. Sudoku, Sudoku, Sudoku! (Thanks to the older niece for explaining the darned things to me)
8. New music from John Hiatt, Jackson Browne, Lindsay Buckingham and B.B. King that proved that the old guys have a little something left. And from Jakob Dylan, that reminds this old guy that younger guys have something to say, too.
9. And speaking of old guys and young Dylan, The Return of the Theme Time Radio Hour with your host, Bob Dylan! Season Three seems even better than the first two.
10. The Eagles' latest tour. I'm in good with The Roommate for, probably, two or three months. Thanks, guys!
Since Dave limits himself to a Top 10 every night, I'll stop there. But there could surely be a great deal more. And it's very appropriate to have a little gratitude about life. So, Thanks, Boss!

What Most Valuable is All About

The Baseball Writers' Association of America did great work that was announced in the last two days: they voted the two leagues' Most Valuable Player Awards to Albert Pujols (NL) and Dustin Pedroia (AL).
Albert Pujols is the guy that kids look up to from coast to coast. He's a great player and a better person. No player in the history of Major League Baseball-not Ted Williams, not Joe DiMaggio, not Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Babe Ruth, Jimmie Foxx or Al Simmons-has ever, ever, ever started his career with the performance that Albert has put on the board in his first eight seasons. He is 28 as the 2008 season ended. He has 319 Home Runs, 977 RBIs and over 1,500 hits. And now, his second National League MVP award. The only thing that has prevented him from having four MVPs is Barry Bonds' drug dealer.
Pujols was also named this year's Roberto Clemente Man of the Year in Major League Baseball. That award is given to the player who most personifies the community and charitable spirit of the great Clemente, who gave his life doing relief work after a Nicaraguan earthquake in 1972. A native Dominican, Pujols was in tears when he was named the Clemente winner. Clemente is widely seen as the Jackie Robinson of the Latino community. If I were a betting man, I would wager that Albert holds the Clemente Award dearer than the MVP.
In eight seasons for the Cardinals, Pujols has never been lower than ninth in MVP voting. That is consistency. His placement describes his stardom: 9th in 2007; 4th in 2001; 3rd in 2004; 2nd in 2002, 2003 and 2006; and his wins in 2005 and this year. Yep, that's 5 first or seconds in eight seasons!
Dustin Pedroia isn't big enough. He's listed at 5'9" and that's generous. Try a much more realistic 5'6" and you're a whole lot closer. But much like his second sacker ancestor of 30 years back, Joe Morgan, Dusty doesn't know he's the smallest guy on the field. Or at least, he doesn't care. Pedroia is why baseball is still the greatest game, and always will be. A guy like Petey can still be the MVP in baseball. You don't have to be a beast like in the NFL, or stretched out to freakish proportions like in the NBA. A slightly less than averaged sized man can make it just fine in baseball.
He was Rookie of the Year in the American League last year. This year, he already won the Golden Glove and Silver Slugger. More importantly, he batted all up and down the Red Sox order this year, wherever Tito Francona needed or wanted him. Including the cleanup slot after Manny was traded and Mikey was injured. That's right: all 5'6" of Dustin Pedroia provided the protection for Big Papi in the Red Sox lineup. And while there, he hit like a cleanup hitter! That's because Pedroia has never, ever listened to any of those "experts" who have told him that he wasn't big enough or good enough to be a Major Leaguer. He knew better than they did!
And one of these days (which may come very shortly) he very likely could follow Jason Varitek as the Captain of the Boston Red Sox. Petey is made of the very same stuff as Tek. He is strong. He is a leader. He inspires his teammates. And he doesn't put up with any nonsense.
My congratulations, and gratitude, to the BBWAA for seeing past the power totals to recognize that value is measured by far more than how many homers are hit!
Albert Pujols and Dustin Pedroia constitute an awful lot of what is good and right about baseball, and both of them deeply deserve the recognition that they have been extended!

Hard to Get Behind This One

"On behalf of Manny Ramirez, we will, for the first time, begin accepting serious financial offers on Friday." Agent Scott Boras, Nov. 13, 2008

I have been with the players in every single labor negotiation and work stoppage in my baseball watching life. Even as a kid, the Reserve Clause always seemed downright un-American to me. (If that term is not familiar to you, every Major League baseball player's contract-until the mid-1970's-contained a clause that said, in essence, that if you signed this year's contract, you were granting your team the right to retain your services next year, in perpetuity. You were "Reserved" by the team that signed you. Forever. And with no recourse, you ultimately had no bargaining power, whatsoever. Curt Flood gave up his career to fight this monstrosity, God Bless him!)
I was with the players in the 1973 when they struck over the pension program. The lockouts in 1973 and 1976 were inconsequential to fans, as they occurred during Spring Training. I understood in 1980, when the season's start was delayed a week over free agent pay, and again in 1981, when the same issue took out the middle third of the season. 1985 was almost like a long weekend in August over salary arbitration, and the 1990 lockout was, again, early in Spring Training. 1994 was about the attempt to put in a salary cap and revenue sharing. Der Kommissar ultimately cancelled the World Series, which not even Hitler could manage, but I was still right there with the workers. Yes, by then, many of the players were millionaires, but it was now a choice between millionaires and billionaires, where it had been working men vs. billionaires in earlier instances. I am always for the guy with the smaller bank balance.
But now? Thank God it's not about a strike. If my buddy Bud gets credit for anything, it is moving through the last negotiation of the Collective Bargaining Agreement without strike or lockout. But it's getting harder-much, much harder-to hang with the players.
The Los Angeles Dodgers had offered Manny Ramirez a two year contract for $22.5 million per year, with a club option for a third that would have brought the total value to $60 million. To quote Lewis Black, I'm going to pause for a moment to let that sink in............
Manny took the Dodgers to the NLCS this year, for sure. But Manny will be 37 years old a third of the way into the 2009 season. He is unreliable at best, and a real problem at worst. In his prime, his focus could disappear for weeks at a time. And the Dodgers are in the National League, which means, of course, that he will have to play the outfield. Need I mention, that isn't Manny's best thing?
Scott Boras, spawn of Satan, didn't just turn down the Dodgers offer. He declared, per the quote above, that $60 million for a 37 year old, tantrum pitching, clubhouse killing, spoiled brat isn't even a serious offer. He presumably issued the press release with a straight face.
I love Manny. I still believe that a determined Ramirez in the middle of the Red Sox lineup would have meant a third World Series title in five years. But there is no defense for this demand.
I hope Frank McCourt doesn't raise his offer. I hope Artie Moreno says that he can't go higher than his cross-town rivals offered. I hope for some semblance of sanity to break upon Hal Steinbrenner just long enough to opt out of any higher bidding for Manny. They certainly shouldn't discuss things amongst themselves (can you say "collusion?"), but these men-well, McCourt and Moreno-didn't have things handed to them in life. They had to perform and demonstrate responsible judgement to acquire the fortunes that enabled them to buy the Dodgers and Angels, respectively. Use your judgement, boys. He's old. He's difficult. He's unreliable.
And he's not worth $60 million. He for darned sure ain't worth a dollar more!

Time For this Semi-Old Man to Dream a Dream

"Then afterward I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions." Joel 2:28

I have dreamed all my life (well, at least since 1984, when the event started) of going to the Chicago Blues Festival. I'm one of those southern white boys who needed Eric Clapton and Robert Plant to share the gospel about our own music. And when Clapton talked in Rolling Stone about the legendary Robert Johnson's The Complete Recordings as the Holy Grail of sound, I was immediately off to Sounds of Music (Later, Sounza Musik) in Jackson to get my hands on a copy. They didn't have it. But Peaches in Memphis sure did. From the first notes of Kindhearted Woman Blues, I was hooked. By Sweet Home Chicago, Cross Road Blues and Love in Vain, it was over. I already knew disco sucked, but there was something in this music that made the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac and Elton John seem like first-year music students.
Later came John Lee Hooker, Son House, Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf (Sam Phillips felt that the Wolf's music was the most important work ever to come out of Sun Records), Charlie Patton, Honeyboy Edwards, Sleepy John Estes, Mississippi John Hurt and all the rest. Those records had something going on that the stuff on the radio just couldn't deliver. The Blues are real, raw and powerful. They shame every other music in my ear, heart and head. They gave birth to all American music that came after them.
The roommate and I have calculated, thought and even prayed a little. We've still got two in college, a granddaughter coming in January, a future son-in-law we're trying to help, and a teacher's salary and a church that's still not close to doing what was promised four years ago. Still, we've decided: we're going to Chicago next summer. There's no place I'd rather vacation anyway. But next summer, we're going early. Right after Annual Conference. And the Cubs' and White Sox' schedules aren't the primary ingredient for this trip.
We're going to the Chicago Blues Festival.
Roomy will be a certified antique in a month. I got my AARP membership card today, courtesy of her upcoming birthday. This, and a grandchild on the way, adds up to a great big "let's get on with it!" And I absolutely cannot wait. Everybody who's anybody on the stages. More people in Grant Park than showed up for Barack Obama's victory speech. In my favorite city in the world. With my companion of choice. It just doesn't get any better than that!
And I'll be listening and looking for the ghosts. Robert Johnson will be there, and Hooker and Muddy and the Wolf; Son and Leadbelly and Luther Allison will be hanging around, too. I miss you guys, but I'll see you in Chicago come June!

"Back to that land of California; Sweet home Chicago." Robert Johnson (Hey, he was a Bluesman, not a geographer!)

Vote Santo Into the Hall...Now! Redux

This post is a repeat from 2007. This year's Veterans' Committee vote will be announced in one month (Dec. 8). Attention, Hall of Famers: Correct this injustice NOW! You will regret this error if you fool around and let Ron die before you vote him into his rightful place in the Hall.

Tomorrow the ballot of the Veterans' Committee of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum will be announced. The odds are overwhelming that if anyone is elected it will be Ron Santo and/or Gil Hodges. I'm not a Dodger guy, but honesty compels me to say that Hodges doesn't cut it among first basemen in the Hall. There are 18 players identified as first basemen in the Hall's accounting-leaving out those such as Aaron, Banks and Musial who spent time there, but are pricipally identified with other positions. There are three others who played in the Negro Leagues, which, tragically, means that their statistical records are incomplete, and therefore cannot be used in a comparison like this. Hodges doesn't stack up. Sorry. Good man, great leader, pretty good manager. Not a Hall of Famer.
But then there is Ron Santo.
Santo is said to fail the Hall test due to his .277 lifetime batting average. Let's take a look at the numbers. There are 10 players in the Hall identified as Major League third basemen. It's a pretty darned impressive group: (in no particular order) Brooks Robinson, George Brett, Wade Boggs, Mike Schmidt, Eddie Mathews, Pie Traynor, George Kell, Jimmy Collins, Frank "Home Run" Baker, and Freddie Lindstrom. (For the sake of brevity, I will speak as though Ron is in.)
Games Played: Ron comes in sixth of the eleven;
At Bats: again, sixth of eleven;
Runs Scored: Ron lands seventh;
Hits: sixth;
Doubles: seventh;
Triples: eighth;
Home Runs: Ron is third-and most of his were hit during the best pitching years of the modern era;
RBI: fifth-see the previous comment about the 1960's;
Batting Average: eighth;
Slugging Percentage: fourth;
OPS: fifth;
Ron, not surprisingly, trails Mike Schmidt, Eddie Mathews, George Brett and Wade Boggs in most offensive categories, although Ron leaves Boggs in the dust in the power categories. Santo is comparable, offensively, to Brooks Robinson, and bests Robinson by ten batting average points. In fact, Ron's BA is better than Brooks', Schmidt's and Mathews'. And, again, batting average is the primary issue cited against voting him in. Once more, Santo was batting against Bob Gibson's 1.12 ERA, Sandy Koufax' no-hitters, Don Drysdale's brushbacks, Juan Marichal's kick and toughness, and all of them and more throwing from the higher mound. None of the third basemen in the Hall had to take most of their career ABs between 1960 and 1968, and Santo STILL put up those numbers! Remember, Yaz won the AL batting title in 1968 with a .301 average.
Santo beats Kell, Traynor, Collins, Baker and Lindstrom in most all of the categories.
Oh yeah, there's one more measure: defense.
The Gold Glove award isn't perfect, but it certainly is one standard. Only four of these eleven men won multiple Gold Gloves. Brooks Robinson, of course, is the gold standard with 16. Michael Jack Schmidt claimed 10. But then it's Ron Santo next, with 5. (Wade Boggs won 2).
Ron says that he doesn't want to be elected to the Hall of Fame because he's a great guy and a legitimate inspiration, having played his entire career as an insulin dependent diabetic, who has now lost the lower portions of both legs to this vicious disease. My wife has been an insulin dependent diabetic from about the same age as Ron. It is a challenge for diabetics to make it through each day with the balancing of food, exercise and insulin, much less perform as a top-flight professional athlete while doing all of that. And this isn't even to mention that Santo is one of the genuinely tremendous human beings on the planet. He routinely, without cameras and microphones, make calls and visits to children who are newly diagnosed with diabetes, and hosts them and their families in the WGN radio booth at Wrigley. Because he wants those strangers to know they are not alone in their fight, and that they can persevere and realize their dreams, because he did.
Ron Santo doesn't need a sympathy vote to get into the Hall. He doesn't need a hero's respect to get in. Ron DESERVES, on the merits of his career, to be voted into the Hall of Fame. The problem with the new Veterans' Committee procedure is that giving the vote to the living HOFers encourages them to see themselves above anyone not elected by the BBWAA. They want Cooperstown to be exclusive, because the more exclusive the club is, the better they must have been to have gotten in. To quote the legendary Col. Sherman Potter, "Horse Hockey!" It doesn't demean George Kell or Frank Baker or even Mike Schmidt to give Ron Santo what he earned on the field.
And I have no doubt that Ron Santo will one day be elected. If his disease and personality play any role in this consideration, it is that it would be a crime to wait until Ron has passed from the scene to induct him. The Hall of Fame is poorer for Ron's absence. And that should be corrected when the vote is announced on Tuesday. Don't take the chance of leaving it to the next Veterans' ballot in 2009. Take care of this injustice now!

Another Apparent "Gotcha!"

Another colleague has been bitten. I have a good deal of respect for him, and identify with him to a fair degree due to our similarity of family circumstance. So I sympathize with him over his latest blog post.
Seems he has become the object of rumor as pertains to appointments.
This is THE primary sport of preachers, at least in my conference in my denomination. I don't know about anyone or anything beyond that, and don't really care to. I feel sometimes that we are so limited in our interests as a group that we just don't know enough about anything else to talk about. So we play with people's lives and work.
It's not entertaining to me.
I had the great privilege to spend seven years in a previous appointment serving one of our conference's agencies. I was out of the loop for seven years. By the time I came out of that work (totally against my will), I didn't even know where everyone was serving, much less where they might be going next. And didn't care.
I have done everything I can to maintain that stance as I have served three appointments since coming back to regular work. I'm not proud of this particular one, but when an issue arose about my uncle's work, I had to ask what appointment it was that he was serving.
I don't like to hang out with preachers.
Yes, I typically exempt my family from that position. After all, I have a father, two uncles and two cousins of one degree of closeness or another who are all clergy in this conference. And one of the friends that I mentioned a few posts ago is a pastor in the conference, and my wife and I are absolutely much happier when he and his wife are appointed in closer proximity to where we are. But that's about it.
My world is a little bit bigger than who's making what salary and panting after what church. I just don't really care.
I'd much rather study up on the Red Sox' OPS, ERA and runs per game than the Memphis Conference Salary Sheet. I'd much rather inquire about where Preston Shannon or Eric Hughes will be playing the blues next week than where Pastor X, Y or Z will be preaching next year.
It isn't fun to me to speculate on people's lives in that way. I've been there. I know what it feels like to be the topic of such attention. I prefer to be left alone, so I don't play the game with others' lives.
Boys and girls, the world is a big, beautiful, exciting place! Every once in a while, think about something else, go somewhere else, learn about something you don't know. And shut the hell up when it comes to your colleagues' careers. It's just so small and petty and stupid when you consider what you could be spending your down time doing or thinking about.
My colleague said in his post that if he can find out where the crap about him started, he will bring proceedings against that source. Go get 'em, pal! That's the only way that garbage will ever be stopped.

Finally...

IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America
When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

And tonight, November 4, 2008, these sacred words apply to all of us. Every last one!

I Really Like My Numbers Now!

May I point out that my forecast was published at 9:28 on Monday night?
Nate Silver (a professional) at http://www.fivethirtyeight.com/ posted exactly the same electoral vote prediction at 12:16 pm today!
349-189. I like the sound of that!

At Long Last, Here's the Call

My crystal ball says...Obama 52%, McCain 46% in the national popular vote.

In the Electoral College: Obama gets 27 states plus the District of Columbia for 349 electoral votes.
(CA-55, NY-31, FL-27, PA-21, IL-21, OH-20,MI-17, NJ-15, VA-13, MA-12, IN-11, WA-11, MD-10, WI-10, MN-10, CO-9, CT-7, IA-7, OR-7, NM-5, NV-5, HI-4, ME-4, NH-4, RI-4, VT-3,
DE-3, DC-3)

McCain gets 23 states for 189 electoral votes.
(TX-34, GA-15, NC-15, TN-11, MO-11, AZ-10, AL-9, LA-9, KY-8, SC-8, OK-7, AR-6, MS-6, KS-6, NE-5, UT-5, WV-5, ID-4, AK-3, MT-3, ND-3, SD-3, WY-3)

This is what is known in presidential politics as a mandate.

And, besides, the National League won the World Series, and the Washington Redskins' last home game before the election was a loss. Look it up; it matters, I kid you not!

Have fun watching, and, for goodness sake, whether you're casting your ballot correctly or not, go vote!

Studs Terkel, 1912-2008; We Are A Poorer Nation Today

May 16, 1912 was a monumental day for America. Samuel and Anna Terkel of the Bronx had a baby boy. Louis arrived about a month after the Titanic sank. He died today. His was a life epic in scope, passion, activism, publishing, broadcasting and, eternally, advocacy for the "non-celebrated," the working people who have built America and made it go. He learned their value from his tailor father and seamstress mother who raised their four boys by working hard.

Studs Terkel was a working man. He earned a law degree from the University of Chicago (home to the family from 1922), but he never practiced law. He took up government work in Washington, briefly, before joining the WPA. Known to FDR's opponents as "We Pittle Around," the Works Progress Administration had a Writers' Project, with a radio branch. He acted on the radio (becoming Studs when he performed in a program with another actor named Louis, and was reading novels about Studs Lonigan at the time), read the news, and then took up his own show after the obligatory military stint. Studs couldn't be on the radio if he were starting out today. He didn't fit into a format. Hell, he didn't fit into any format. He played what he liked, and that meant opera next to blues next to jazz and traditional American folk music. The radio show generated enough interest that a television program was next. He talked to people, but he listened more, and that set the course for the work that made him famous world-wide. For the rest of his life he published oral histories, regular everyday people telling their stories to someone who wanted to hear them. And Studs really, really wanted to hear them.

He wanted to hear about Chicago, World War II, work, the Great Depression, race relations in America, death and hope. Somewhere in the midst of all that, he finally took a turn for himself, publishing the wondrous memoir, Talking to Myself. Studs' books have been some of my best friends throughout my life. Along with my grandparents and several of Dad's parishoners across the years, Studs' books taught me the value of older people and what they know. They taught me the wonder of listening. They taught me an awful lot of what matters in life. As did Studs, himself. I definitely wouldn't have sought my appointment to minister among the residents of our retirement homes-those known today as The Greatest Generation, although Studs wrote about them long before Brokaw, in The Good War. I'm not sure I would have even considered ordained ministry without Studs Terkel.

Studs didn't just write about working people. He fought for them. Enough that he was blacklisted by the McCarthyites in the 1950's. Studs was an unrepentant FDR liberal. He taught me about that, too. To push for what he believed in, he worked as a community organizer. Hmm, seems I've heard that term lately.

Studs was a fighter to the end. He had bypass surgery at 93 because he had more to do! In 2006 he led a lawsuit against AT&T to make them stop spying on their customers for Dubyer. He knew the evil that government can do through unwarranted intrusion into citizens' lives. He had suffered the effects himself.

Studs Terkel was a great man. He had a clear vision of, and commitment to, what America is supposed to be, and he would settle for nothing else. He inspired generations of Americans to follow in his footsteps in one way or another. He made a difference in his world, always for the good.

We are a poorer nation for having lost this physically small giant. No one can ever fill Studs' shoes in advocating for the average American woman or man. But we have been so enriched by his presence, and we will continue to be instructed by his books, the recordings of his interviews, and by his uniquely American spirit.

I know that you were a professed agnostic, Studs, but God bless you!

Your World Series Champions...The Philadelphia Phillies

When the Nielsen ratings are published for the 2008 World Series, I suspect that the vast American public and I will have something in common: neither of us paid a great deal of attention to the Phils vs. the Rays. That said, I'm glad for Phillies' manager Charlie Manuel. Charlie is a baseball guy.
He was the euphemistically named "utility man" during his brief Major League career of 242 games spread over six seasons. He played in left field more than anywhere else, but was stuck behind such stellar talents as Steve Brye, Brant Alyea and future thirdbaseman Graig Nettles. Tell the truth: you didn't know Nettles played left either, did you?
His career took off when Charlie went to Japan. He packed up his robust 4 homers, 43 RBIs and .198 batting average and headed East. During his Japanese leagues tenure, Charlie became a star. He had seasons of 39, 42, 37 and 48 home runs (the last setting a record for American players in Japan). His career stats in Japan are very different from his ML numbers: .303 cumulative average, 189 homers and 491 RBIs. But it was in Japan.
He came home to manage in the Minor Leagues. For nine years. He won championships in the International League and in the Pacific Coast League, and was Minor League Manager of the Year three times. He served two terms as the Indians' hitting coach. With Manuel guiding the hitters, the Indians went on a rampage. They led the AL in runs scored three times in the nineties, and in 1999 became the first team since the 1950 Red Sox of Williams, Doerr, Stephens and Dropo to score over 1,000 runs in a season.
Charlie became the Indians manager when Mike Hargrove was let go in 2000 after winning five consecutive division championships. Two-and-a-half years later it was Manuel's turn to go, in a contract battle. That's what bad ownership does: get rid of good managers. The Phillies hired him for a front office job after he escaped Cleveland. He was ready to take over when Larry Bowa wore out his welcome in the Phils' dugout after the 2004 season. The team desperately needed a change in temperament, and Charlie Manuel's personality is about as far from Bowa's as any two men could be. Let's be clear: Bowa is a jerk. Charlie Manuel is a tremendous guy.
Manuel's even keel has kept him in perpetual hot water with the Philadelphia fans, as though that is hard to do! Remember, this is the city with a history of booing the pregnant wife of a player, and even Santa Claus! "Charlie don't care!" "Charlie doesn't push the players!" "He doesn't have the fire in the belly!" Those and much worse were the accusations from his hometown fans. A question: have you seen Joe Torre, Bobby Cox, Tito Francona? They are "players' managers" too. They stay positive, never criticize in public, always treat their players with respect. And they have been the most successful managers of the last 15-20 years. And Charlie Manuel has now joined them.
It seems just desserts for a guy who has given his life and health (a heart attack, quadruple bypass and cancer) to the game. He just had to go from winning the National League pennant to bury his beloved 87 year old mother, June. Obviously, he's still grieving that terrible loss. I hope Miss June knows her boy just won The Big One.
Even now, I hope Charlie enjoys this win. He's waited all his life for it. And he's earned the trophy, and, perhaps now, the respect that he should have had all along.

Strange, Infuriating, Frustrating, Scary Days

Matthew Harrison Brady: We must not abandon faith! Faith is the most important thing!
Henry Drummond: Then why did God plague us with the capacity to think? Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one thing that sets above the other animals? What other merit have we? The elephant is larger, the horse stronger and swifter, the butterfly more beautiful, the mosquito more prolific, even the sponge is more durable. Or does a sponge think?
Matthew Harrison Brady: I don't know. I'm a man, not a sponge!
Henry Drummond: Do you think a sponge thinks?
Matthew Harrison Brady: If the Lord wishes a sponge to think, it thinks!
Henry Drummond: Does a man have the same privilege as a sponge?
Matthew Harrison Brady: Of course!
Henry Drummond: [Gesturing towards the defendant, Bertram Cates] Then this man wishes to have the same privilege of a sponge, he wishes to think!
--Inherit the Wind


This isn't about politics. I believe the wealthy should pay more taxes than the middle or the poor. Others see tax policy other ways. I believe that the US shouldn't start wars, and should work with other nations to resolve differences diplomatically. Others see foreign policy in other ways. That's why we debate issues and have elections.
This isn't about religious doctrine. I'm of a tradition that believes in baptizing infants, because baptism is the start of the journey rather than the finish line. Others hold to baptism as a marker that God is done with them. My branch believes in redemptive involvement in the world in God's name as part of our responsibility as Christian disciples. Others believe that we are to separate ourselves from the sinful world as a sign of our identity. That's why we have different churches and different theologies.
This is about something else.
A friend asked me yesterday about the dinosaurs that Noah had on the ark. Her child attends a "Christian" school where the "science" textbook teaches that human beings and dinosaurs lived at the same time. And that Noah included them in his menagerie on the ark.
Gov. Palin, in the same speech where she promised that a McCain-Palin administration would dramatically increase funding for research and assistance for special needs children, ridiculed a government-funded study on fruit flies in "Paris, France. I kid you not." Ignorance and jingoism in one sentence! Since the moment when modern science began understanding genetics, mutation and disease, fruit flies have been humanity's great partner, serving as the research tool in a multitude of issues.
But then again, have you seen the video (check YouTube) presenting a "pastor" in a "church" laying hands on the Governor, praying that "in the name of Jesus" she will be "protected from every form of witchcraft"? Friends, this isn't Salem, and my calendar doesn't read 1692.
The creationists have opened a museum in Kentucky. It has become a really hot vacation spot. For imprisoning children in the Dark Ages!
School districts are having trouble deciding what to do about the growing numbers of unvaccinated children in their schools. They are unvaccinated because, like some replay of the 1950's fluorination hysteria, parents are trying to "protect" their kids. By leaving them vulnerable to all of those childhood illnesses so easily prevented. And putting at risk other kids more recently vaccinated, whose antibodies are still building.
This sort of business is willful ignorance. And some days it is terrifying; others it seems so ridiculous it has to be a joke; still others it too closely echoes the moments when other great nations have begun their inexorable decline.
How does an adult keep a straight face when telling children that there were dinosaurs on the ark? Or even that there was a literal boat with historical animals on it? Why would anyone want to strip the story of all its power by reducing it to a 960 hour sea voyage?
How did the church go from being a place where learning and progress were matters worth dying for (even if it was at the hands of other Christians) to a place fearful of the wonders that might be discovered next? Not to mention the human suffering that can be challenged and defeated through the grace of God, by the use of our minds-the greatest tools God has ever given us?
I think that we have reached the point where, since so much is easy and within our grasp, we think everything should be. And so, we blame autism, for example, on the shots that save peoples' lives, rather than on the fact that we run risks when we put off having our children until our mid- and now late-40's, ages when so many risks are increased! We want it all; we want to work for 25 years, and still get to act like we're in our 20's. And life just doesn't work like that.
But we are Americans, and the notion of American Exceptionalism is so pervasive in this culture that we tend to believe that if we want it, we should have it, and it should go perfectly, whatever it is.
Kind of like that place that Israel reached in Amos' time. When they got arrogant and comfortable and decided that since they were the Chosen, God would bless whatever they did, because it was them doing it! We have no more license to be ignorant and willful than they did. We have no more right to claim special privileges over others than they did.
But, like them, we will pay a price if we keep it up. And that price will be very, very steep.

Award Season Begins...Spectacularly!

Baseball's postseason recognitions kicked off with the naming of the 2008 Roberto Clemente Award recipient before Game 3 of the World Series on Saturday night. Albert Pujols is that honoree. Albert is, of course, off to an historic career on the field. He is the only man in baseball history to have a .300-plus batting average, 30-plus home runs and 100-plus RBI's each of his first 8 seasons in the big leagues. He missed by one run scored in 2007 adding 100-plus runs scored every year, too. And as great as the 2005 NL MVP has been on the field, he is an even finer person off it. The Pujols Family Foundation sponsors events throughout the year for St. Louis-area families living with Down Syndrome. The background: when Albert met his wife, Deidre, she avoided telling him for some time that she was the mother of a daughter, Isabella, who has Down Syndrome. Her experience had told her that no one would be interested in the mother of a special needs child. When the time finally came, Albert had a very clear response: "I love you, and we will raise our child together." Albert married Deidre, adopted Isabella, and they now have another daughter, Sophia, and a son, Albert, Jr., in the family. Albert's experience of Isabella led him to use his wealth, name, time and energy to assist others less fortunate than his own family.
He has also made caring for people in his native Dominican Republic a major part of his agenda. Each year, he organizes trips back home, bringing doctors and dentists into areas where there is no medical care throughout the rest of the year. And Albert isn't content to do things the easy way. Dominican officals quickly share that Pujols makes his trips into areas where even the police do not willingly go. He believes that he must reach out to and make a difference in the lives of those most afflicted by poverty, crime and hopelessness. The Pujols Family Foundation also funds sports programs for children and youth in those difficult areas of the Dominican.
Albert has been the Cardinals' nominee for the Clemente Award each of the last four seasons before being given the Award this year. His emotion was evident at the newsconference where Bud Selig made the announcement. As a latin-born player, Albert talked about his sense of connection to Clemente, and the responsibility to give back to those in need that Clemente was living out even as he died in a plane crash attempting to deliver relief supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua.
Like the National League MVP award, Albert could be given the Clemente Award every year, and baseball would have nothing to apologize for.
Kevin Youkilis and Aramis Ramirez were honored before Game 4 of the World Series with the Hank Aaron Award for the best hitter in each league. Ramirez provided much of the power and run production that led the Chicago Cubs to the best record in the National League, and their second straight Central Division title. He was the Cubs' best clutch hitter this year, and did all of that while playing Gold Glove-caliber third base. It was Ramirez' first Aaron Award.
Keving Youkilis was the Red Sox' constant in a year full of change in 2008. When Manny Ramirez was traded, and Mike Lowell was injured for much of the second half, Youk stepped into the cleanup slot, and led the team in homers, RBIs, slugging percentage and on base percentage. He provided that quality of offense even as he was bouncing back and forth between first and third bases defensively.
There was a rumor around the trade deadline that the Red Sox had offered Kevin Youkilis, Jacoby Ellsbury and Justin Masterson to the Braves for Mark Teixeira. I don't believe that such an offer was ever made. I base that conclusion on 1) the fact that Theo Epstein has not been committed to a mental institution and 2) Braves' GM Frank Wren would have been utterly out of his mind to have taken the Casey Kotchmann package from the Angels instead of the Red Sox package. Shall we suffice it to say that without Ellsbury, Masterson and certainly Youkilis, the Sox don't make the postseason, no matter how good Tex might have been in Boston?
Youkilis' recognition is his first Aaron Award as well.
Come what may with the other awards, these selections are outstanding!

Baseball is Life Decrees: The Verdict on Varitek

I have looked at multiple lists of this season's free agent catchers. I have thought about dealing with Scott Boras (something that I simply would not do if I were a team owner, period). I have considered the likely price tag for a front line catcher, if any of the few teams with one would even agree to part with him.
The Sox need to resign Tek.
Let's consider the free agents. To me, the most attractive free agent, by age and performance, is Josh Bard. Josh Bard. Yes, that Josh Bard. No, the Sox probably shouldn't have traded him a couple years back. But he's never been a full time catcher. He shouldn't be for us.
Trades? Who? Brian McCann is probably the best catcher out there, although many would argue for Russell Martin. But neither the Braves nor the Dodgers is going to part with a player like them, a catcher like them. Why would they? And how expensive would it be if they did? Ellsbury, Buchholz and Masterson? You could have had Johann Santana for less, and this would be more wrong than that would have been.
Bring Tek back. Not for four years. But I would go three. Yes, I know that the Yankees crippled themselves by giving a broken down Posada four years last winter, and giving Tek three now equals the length remaining on Jorge's contract. But Tek isn't injured, as far as we know. And he still manages the pitching staff. I know that it appeared clear that he can't hit any more. But he will enter the 2009 season with his divorce settled, and having been there myself, I can vouch for the fact that in the midst of that party, nothing is right. I have to think just being out of that circus, he'll be no worse at the plate next year than in 2008. Bat him ninth. Just keep him in charge of our pitchers. And let him run the clubhouse.
Remember 2006? When Tek went down in August, the Sox were in first. Didn't last long, did it? They didn't fade; they died. He makes that much difference in the pitchers' confidence. I still wonder if Rick Ankiel would have melted down as he did in the Cardinals' 2000 postseason if Mike Matheny's wife hadn't given him the hunting knife that ended his season when Mike missed the sheath putting it away, and sliced the tendons in his middle finger. Tek makes that much difference, especially with the youth of the Sox staff this year--and likely even more next year. His presence also makes Tito's job easier. With Tek in the clubhouse, Tito doesn't have to address every little thing that happens. That's why he was named Captain in the first place! It was simply a recognition of what was already fact.
Don't break the bank, Theo. And if Boras makes stupid demands in years, let him go. But if there is any reasonable way to keep The Captain, it's clearly the best way to go.

I Should Have Known Better

I don't like being overly exposed online. My name is not on this blog. That isn't an accident. I like having a little place of freedom where the thoughts are my own, and can run free. An awful lot of my existence is at the mercy of others' opinions. These are mine. I write this for my own entertainment, and that of a few people that I have shared it with. If you aren't one of those, you are trespassing; get out, please!
A couple of acquaintances have written on their own little acres of the internet of their experiences with Facebook. Unhappy experiences. Dissatisfied experiences. I find those acquaintances to be people of some significant intellect. I should have listened to them.
I have a very difficult time telling the baby girl "no" about anything. Great big daddy flaw, not terribly uncommon. So when she was putting up a Facebook page for the roommate last night, and I walked in in the middle of that procedure, she said she'd like to do one for me. The "no" was fully formed in my mind. It was working its way to my lips. And yet, when it emerged, it sounded remarkably like "yes."
It didn't even take 24 hours before there were notifications. People who already have more than ample, multiple means of access to me were asking to be added to various Facebook categories. To me, calling a person a friend means something. Friendship runs right past the "How's your family" or "How's your church" niceties. After all, if you're friends, you already know those things. Friendship means, for instance, that we will spend time together outside of working hours. It means that we share interests, and will probably spend some time pursuing those interests together. I don't have many friends, by my definition. And I don't need many. I pretty much have four. They are exceptional people, every one. They love music and baseball. They are fun and they are funny. They are even forgiving of my corny/sarcastic/just plain bad jokes. They graciously seem to generally tolerate me, and I deeply enjoy each of them. There are few times more precious to me than time spent with them. They are about all I need.
Typing sentence fragments on someone's "wall" does not, to me, constitute friendship.
As soon as I can catch up with the baby girl, my Facebook sojourn will come to an end. I'll try a little harder to listen to my acquaintances next time.
Even if it means saying "no" to the baby girl.

For the Last Word...The Commissioner

That would be the late, great, A. Bartlett Giamatti. Bart Giamatti was a scholar of English Renaissance Literature, with a particular passion for Edmund Spenser. He was President of Yale University. He and his wife, Toni, were the parents of three children, including the wonderful actor, Paul Giamatti. Bart was President of the National League. And on April 1, 1989, he was named the seventh Commissioner of Baseball. He served in that post until his tragically untimely death on September 1, 1989.

Giamatti was a life-long Boston Red Sox fan.

He wrote the most beautiful, most powerful and most accurate elegy for the end of any baseball season, The Green Fields of the Mind. It captures everything that needs to be said whenever your team ends your baseball season, whether in last place or hoisting the World Series trophy. First published in Yale Alumni Magazine, it was later included in a small volume of Giamatti's writings on baseball, A Great and Glorious Game.
The first paragraph captures the despondency that accompanies The End:

"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops."

Some Nights You Just Have to Tip Your Cap

Lester was good. Garza was better.
That's the story on Game 7. That, and a brilliant move by Joe Maddon. He used David Price for a third of an inning in Game 1, and then two-thirds of an inning in Game 2, earning him the win. He pitched his prize rookie just enough to get him settled in and comfortable. then Maddon held Price back. No more appearances in Games 3 through 6. And then, tonight, when Maddon emptied his bullpen in the eighth inning, David Price was the last man his manager brought in to pitch. Price faced five batters. One walked. One hit a weak ground ball to second. The other three struck out. The game was over. The Red Sox looked as overmatched against Price as other teams usually look against Papelbon.
We may have seen Jason Varitek's last atbat in a Sox uniform in the top of the ninth. Like too many of his turns this year, Tek swung badly at a slider off the plate. If it is over, The Captain's place is secure in the hearts and minds of Red Sox Nation. Mike Timlin and Curt Schilling may also have completed their time calling Fenway home. We wouldn't have won one World Series without these men, much less two. We are indebted to you forever!
Now it will be time for Papi's wrist to get well, Lowell's hip to be attended to (as it will be in the morning; Get Well Soon, Mikey!), Drew's back to heal up, Beckett's oblique to rest. Theo will go to work on the bullpen and thinking about a bat to protect Ortiz next year.
One thing we know: John Henry, Tom Werner and Larry Lucchino will make available what is needed to continue this great run of seasons that began in 2003. Only two teams will play after the Sox' elimination. There are only 27 other Major League teams who would trade places with the Sox tonight. We didn't win the Series. We discovered that we can lose an ALCS under Francona. But it was a great season.
And Next Year is now officially on the clock. Good luck, Rays and Phillies. The countdown to Spring Training begins now.

Are You Kidding Me? or, Game 7 Tomorrow!

Lifeless! Hopeless! With No Direction Home! A Complete Unknown! How Does It Fe...sorry, channeled Dylan there for a moment.

Anyway, the Sox had no pulse on Tuesday night. Down 3-1. Not competitive. No pitching. No hitting. Bad managerial moves. Time to pack it in for the season.

Then the Thursday miracle. Now a strong performance by a still-ailing Josh Beckett, and awesome work by the bullpen, with timely hitting, including Tek's first hit of the series, a home run in the sixth that was the game-winning run.

Now, one game, tomorrow night, winner take all for the World Series!

Four times in the American League Championship series have teams been down either 3-0 or 3-1 and come back to win. Three of those teams who came back were Boston Red Sox teams.

They used to talk about Yankee ghosts and mystique.

Jon Lester v. Matt Garza for all the marbles.

I believe in Lester.

And Red Sox magic!

You shoulda beat us Thursday night!

Game 6 Preview

Want to know what's going to happen between the Red Sox and the Rays tomorrow night?
Watch the game!
Sports talking heads have been spouting off straight time since last night's game ended, with pretty much every option being offered up. James Shields won't live up to his nickname (Big Game James--he really should apologize to James Worthy of Your Showtime LA Lakers!). Tito Francona will start Jon Lester in Josh Beckett's place. Beckett's injury is really a torn oblique! How on earth would you pitch, even badly, with a torn oblique? Papi's back and ready to break out. Papi's still lost in the woods and last night's homer was luck. Gabe Gross should be deported. (Yeah, he was born in Baltimore, but by Gov. Palin's measure, that's too close to Washington to be a Pro-American part of the country, so, get him out of here!) Evan Longoria is too green to trust in late innings of ALCS games. Hint: the Rays wouldn't be in the ALCS without their soon-to-be-named Rookie of the Year. Papelbon, Wheeler, Howell, Masterson and pretty much anyone else from either bullpen you'd care to name have pitched too many innings to be effective from here on. BJ Upton will cost you as many runs in the outfield as he'll get you at the plate. And so on.
Here's the dead sure certain straight dope: with the performance of the Boston Red Sox in this decade's playoffs, no one has any idea what is going to happen tomorrow night. Or, potentially, Sunday night. This team defies prediction, common sense, logic, gravity and any other laws you've got.
Tune in. You may very well see something that none of us have every seen before!

You Don't Think...

"You better beat us tonight!" Kevin Millar to Derek Jeter, Oct. 17, 2004, before ALCS Game 4

Going into the bottom of the 7th, behind 7-0, the Red Sox were dead in the water, deader than Julius Caesar, deader than any doornail you ever saw. The Rays had scored early and added on. And added on. And still, at the end of the game, the scoreboard at Fenway read: Red Sox 8, Rays 7.

They cowboyed up like 2003. They played those last two-and-a-half innings like idiots from 2004. Tito went crazy and brought Pap into the game in the top of the 7th! Papi homered! Drew came through. Twice! Petey singled to knock one in and Youk busted his tail, taking nothing for granted, as always! Masterson got Pena (who doesn't hit into double plays) to hit into a fabulous 4-6-3 double play with the lead run on second and only one out!

Four in the seventh. Three in the eighth. One more beautiful run in the ninth. Game!

Joe Castiglione's signature call was never more appropriate: "Can you believe it?"

Deja vu all over again? We'll have to wait two more games to see. But there will be a Game 6 Saturday night in Florida. And Josh Beckett can't be that bad three times in a row, can he?

You shoulda beat us tonight!

OK, Now I've Watched the Debate

John McCain is a tool. He is not in the pocket of Corporate America. He's straight up their collective [anatomy]! He has the audacity to sit before the American public, the wage-stagnated, foreclosed-on American public, and ask Barack Obama why he wants to raise taxes on any American. McCain said, "The whole premise of Sen. Obama's plan [is] 'conduct class warfare'..." I wish to God it was!
I'll say this slowly, so that you can understand, Sen. McCain: you, and those who have bought and sold jerks like you for the last almost 30 years, have been conducting class warfare. You are the people who shut down any increases in the minimum wage. You legislated deregulation of business to the point that jobs could be shipped out, unions could be shut out, and wages have pancaked as a result. You sat by and presided over the loss of pension funds through deregulation of the Enrons, where millions of working Americans--people who are struggling to hold on to just the one house they have, Senator--lost their futures, their opportunities to educate their children, and their dreams of not being "burdens" to their children. You have presided over the greatest redistribution of wealth in American history. The disparity between CEO/CFO salaries versus the average salary in any given company is today greater than it was in the Roaring Twenties, because YOU MADE IT HAPPEN! You declared war on the middle class, and reduced it dramatically. You declared war on the poor in limiting welfare and unemployment benefits. And you shifted trillions in responsibility for our national debt to the middle class and working poor through your Bush tax cuts for the wealthiest 2% of Americans during your illegal war! Back when you were a man of integrity, you knew that that policy was atrocious. Since you've needed the Neocons to get you to the White House, you've kissed every policy [anatomy] they've stuck in your face! You have bankrupted the nation through your unquestioning support for George W. Bush's personal vendetta against Saddam Hussein and his people. And now you want to tax the insurance benefit of working Americans? Because your contributors don't like having to lay out that money for their employees? You say that Sen. Obama wants to spread the wealth around? What about your work to move the wealth into the fewest hands possible? How you have the [different anatomy] to accuse anyone else of calling for class warfare is beyond me.
You have moved into a special place: I have long held King George II to be the most reprehensible public figure of my lifetime. You, sir, have displaced him. The reason is simple: the moron believes his own [fertilizer]. You knew better, Senator. You knew better until you decided that the only way to get the brass ring was to bring in Bill Kristol and Karl Rove and all of the other [illigitimi] that have destroyed this country over the last eight years. You asked tonight how the Democrats could talk about spending more when the deficit is $10 trillion. You ran up that deficit every day of your immoral war in Iraq. You did this, you and your cronies. You are a liar. Just as George W. Bush has done to our country, you have squandered every bit of integrity you ever held. Now, you are even inciting violence toward Sen. Obama through your incendiary rhetoric to the enlightened voters who make up the 22% of the American public who still approve of the Occupier of the White House.
You should be ashamed of yourself. You once knew better.

That's Entertainment!

I know that the Phillies beat the Dodgers for the NL pennant tonight, but I haven't watched it yet. Missed the presidential debate, too. Had another engagement.
Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt played the Orpheum tonight.
Theirs was as fun as any concert I've attended in, like, forever. Two guys, obviously friends of long-standing, obviously caught up in a mutual admiration society professionally speaking, seated together in chairs with guitars. They played and cut up for two and a half hours. It went by like minutes.
Hiatt is one of my very favorite musicians. He's like Willie Nelson in that he came to prominence with other people recording his songs. His performances of them are always superior. His lyrics are worlds apart from most of the crap being peddled today, but that's the saddest part of the record companies' desire to market everything to the average 12 year old girl. I loved my daughters dearly when they were at that stage, but I didn't listen to their "music." John writes and performs grownup songs for grownups. Oddly, there were no preteens in the building tonight. Heaven!
Lyle Lovett is one of the most wonderful human beings on the planet. He may be the smartest person writing songs today. His work is just a little off-kilter, a rhyme a letter off, a beat missing-or added-every now and then. He's also just plain funny.
The format let the performers' personalities out tonight. They talked, like the old friends they are, between each song. They took turns, helped each other on a couple of tunes, and provided a thoroughly delightful evening for all in attendance.
Just one objection: what is it that tells middle-aged people (of which I am one) that it is still alright to get loaded and act like jerks in public? I do remember my first beer, and how stupid it made me; it's just that for me, that came at age 16. Attention, my fellow suburbanites (not by choice in my case!): drunk and obnoxious at 50 ain't cute any more. Grow the hell up! And while you're at it, try to remember that we all paid good money to hear the artists. No one, especially your humiliated wife, came to watch/listen to you make a complete and total jackass out of yourself! Why not save that for the next fit you pitch at Southwind after hitting into the lake on number six? At least that way, I won't have to experience your moronic behavior.
Back to the enjoyable: we had dinner at Cafe 61 before the show. It was our first visit. Holy cow, will we be back again! Kingston scallops appetizer (sauteed in jerk sauce) followed by Scallops Henri (me) and Pecan-crusted Catfish with Sauteed Shrimp (the boss lady). Too good to be legal! Give the place a try. It's worth it.
So, the National League crowned a champion, the Presidential race moved...forward(?), the economy remains in the crapper, but it was a stellar night for the roommate and me. I'll take that anytime!

A Fascinating Moment in the Campaign

Tuesday mornings bring one of my favorite hours of the week: a Bible Study with a lovely group of ladies who have, in some cases, just reached retirement age, and in other cases, have long since passed that point. The youngest member of the group is about 63. The eldest, 84. I am fairly certain that they are all voting for Sen. McCain.
But this morning, I left the meeting stunned. As we were concluding our look at Esther, with my comment on how the Jews in that story went from trying to hide their identity when Haman (look it up if you need to) was running the show, to seeing others trying to claim Jewish identity when Mordecai (again, look it up if you need to) got the reins.
At that moment, the lady who sort of leads the group said, "Why don't they ever call Obama white?" Another immediately jumped in, "Yes, his mother was white. He is as white as he is black." Others contributed that they had wondered why this child of a biracial marriage is considered black.
I have read the polls for weeks. I have pored over realclearpolitics.com, electoral-vote.com and fivethirtyeight.com constantly. I have watched Barack's numbers rise. But I don't know that I ever really believed he could win this election until this morning. If a group of rural, southern, older, white women who have probably voted Republican since 1968 can sit together wondering why the junior Senator from Illinois isn't generally considered a member of their own racial group, then this remarkable man has this election in the bag!
Because their comments mean that they have digested all of the charges about his religion, his education, his pastor, his tangential relationship to William Ayers, and all the rest of the garbage that has been thrown at him, and seen through it all. It means that they have recognized the son of a single mother, the young man who worked his way through college, the husband and father, the Harvard-trained lawyer who went to work for the poor and unemployed of Chicago, the brilliant young man who has risen through the Illinois legislature to the United States Senate, and inspired tens of millions of people across the country in his amazing campaign for the presidency, and they have decided that, even if they are still voting for his opponent, Barack Obama is ok with them.
And if Barack is ok with that group of ladies, the United States of America has made progress that we can all be proud of!

Ugly, Uglier, Ugliest (I Hope)

Games 2, 3 and 4 of the American League Championship Series are in the books. And those are some lousy books for Red Sox fans.
Facing a 3-1 deficit, Sox fans are busy reminding ourselves that ours is the team that has made an art form of coming back in the ALCS. Last year, Cleveland was ahead 3-1. In 2004, Glorious 2004, the Yankees were up 3-0. 1986 saw the Angels up 3-1. In fact, the Red Sox have been the victors in half of the League Championship Series when a team has gone down 3-1 and come back to win. That's comfort, I guess.
There are only two problems.
First, the Rays are good. Make that, very good. They may well be better than the 2004 Yankees. I am confident that they are better than the '07 Indians or '86 Angels. Joe Maddon leads an excellent squad, with no real holes evident to date in this Championship Series.
Then, there are the absences. The only two Red Sox ever named World Series MVP aren't playing in this series.
One is Mike Lowell. Is anyone ever going to acknowledge Mikey's importance to this team? He is as vital a presence as Varitek; he just doesn't have the "C" on his shirt. As great as Beckett has been, nobody simply calls it "the Beckett deal" any more. Mark Kotsay has done a remarkable job handling first base this postseason. But it simply cannot be argued that the Sox are stronger with Kotsay at first and Youk at third than they are with Mike Lowell at third and Youk at first. Mike is having surgery on his hip next Monday. God bless, and get ready for Spring Training. We need you back!
Finally, He Whose Name Shall Not be Spoken is out West. He likes the big stage; the Dodgers wouldn't even be in the playoffs without his performance with all the cameras rolling. He had become too big a pain in the ass to overlook any more. The deal had to be made. Jason Bay has been excellent in his place. But the predecessor will be remembered in baseball history as one of the top five right-handed hitters in the game. Ever. (My top five: HWNSNBS, Jimmy Foxx, Rogers Hornsby, Hank Aaron and Honus Wagner. Albert Pujols may very well knock someone out of this group someday. Albert had his elbow surgery yesterday. God bless, and get well soon!) David Ortiz has not been the same since the trade. There is a lot of speculation that Papi's wrist is still bad; or perhaps it's the knee. But it may be between the ears, lacking his partner, where the big man is hurting the most.
They can certainly pull this off. They have, indeed, done it before.
But the Rays are good. And we're not as formidable as when those two World Series MVPs were in the cleanup and five spots.