Has anyone noticed that this is the ten-year anniversary of the greatest success for the modern Giants? As I have been paying the diddliest of attention to anything about the game since last November, I thought I'd reminisce about our glory pennant-winning year. I have reveled in watching on video tape Matt Williams' homer in the NLCS Game Four and Will Clark's clutch hit in the eighth of Game Five, both called by Dodger blab Vin Scully. I swear, I think I could watch those moments a thousand times and thrill to each one.
Just a most sweet thought as we look back at 1999 with another postmortem to another lost Giants season. Yes, as you see, I am not a Jimmy Cheerio what-a-show kind of guy. If the Giants did not go to the Big One, then it was crap. Oh yes, I will always be fully devoted to Our Boys -- in the highest. And even though I saw literally nothing and heard of nothing, I did note that we got wonderful years from people like Russ Ortiz and Rich Aurilia (at least at the plate), and the standard strong performances by Ellis Burks, Jeff Kent, and Barry Bonds, when healthy.
But I'll tell you flat out what I so thoroughly loved missing. This may sort of ring a bell:
"And what a great, hard-fought, big-time, eke-it-out, nearly-die-doing-it victory for the Giants in order to pull within -- wait -- we are just getting word from Phoenix that -- wait just a minute -- remember how we told you a few moments ago the Diamondbacks were down 15-0 late in the game? Well you're not going to believe this...."
I missed it.
I missed all such agony.
I missed it with complete and abjectly joyful relish.
I did, incidentally catch one neat moment when my 16 year-old son had a ballgame on in May or thereabouts, and the Angels were in Seattle. In the top of the ninth the Mariners were ahead 7-3, and Piniella brought in guys from the pen. I just had to watch these fireworks. Naturally they started walking a bunch of hitters until Jose Mesa came in to face Mo Vaughn. First pitch was the biggest melon you'd ever seen. Dooont... 9-7 Angels. I didn't even see what happened after that. But it was such a wonderfully sweet, tauntworthy moment -- thought I'd share it with you.
The main reason I so enjoyed my strict baseball celibacy this was because I have actually started seriously considering the actual illegitimacy of major league results in light of all the free agency garbage. I had not gone so far as to propound such an idea, but it comes more and more to the forefront as I just think more and more about how money really dictates what happens in baseball.
Again, the reigning precept is: If you got the cash, you got the winner.
The argument that asserts that because the Dodgers and Orioles did so poorly proves that money doesn't play a role is complete crap, and extremely easy to refute.
How many teams in the majors spend far too much money to buy their teams? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? It is certainly something like that.
How many teams win the World Series? Last I saw, it was only one.
With the logic of this argument someone could then say, "Hey, the Red Sox had the third-highest payroll in the majors and they didn't win the World Series! So that must mean money is not a factor."
No, the people who make this idiotic argument simply want everyone else to buy into their own little delusion that the major leagues is actually on the up-and-up. That they must be so strident about it must mean that there is something of substance to consider regarding the dominant role of money, don't you think?
The only way anyone can accurately point out that it is not the money is when there is a truly statistically insignificant correlation between money spent and end-of-season record. And there isn't -- there flat out isn't. That a couple of big-spending teams did not do as well as they were expected to means squat in this instance, and those who say it did, know it.
Rob Neyer of ESPN, one of the more astute pundits to see this all unfold, recently echoed this:
"I'm getting awfully tired of people saying that the Dodgers' and Orioles' failures this year 'prove' that money's not that important, after all. Well, with the elimination of the Reds, all eight of the postseason berths have gone to teams that rank in the top 12 in payroll. So while it's true that stupidity can trump dollars, I'm not sure that intelligence can. That is to say, if you've got a high payroll, you've got a great chance at reaching the postseason even if you're not that smart. But if you've got a low payroll, it probably won't matter how smart you are, at least in the context of major league executives."
Ta-da.
There it is.
The prevailing sentiment: It'd be nice to have smart guys running your team, but it is way, way better to have the cash.
Why the extreme of dismissing it all as illegitimate? It is simple.
I just see what is happening in the majors as more and more like buying a degree from Harvard. No, no, I don't mean paying for an education then going to get educated. I mean going to a high-dollar fun-type novelty shop and purchasing a piece of paper that looks authentic and says, "Graduate of Harvard Medical School."
"Hey everybody! I'm a Harvard grad!"
"Nooo." "No way!" "Not even." "I don't think soooo!..."
"No, yeah -- really! I am! Let me show you!"
(All go to the den.)
"There. See!"
"Whoa." "Coooooll!" "That's awwwesome!"
Don't think this concept reflects the condition of the majors? Think about this for a minute....
Two years ago.
Just two little tiny stinkin' years ago.
Sheffield. Alou. Brown.
World Champions of the... what the heck was the name of the team again?
You most likely know what the team was because you may just remember which team won it all that year.
But who was on the team?
A bunch of mercenaries!
That is exactly what they were! Mercenaries!
It is not as if anyone could really say, "Oh yeah, Ruth, Gehrig, Lazzeri..." or "Remember that team of McNally, Palmer, and Robinson -- hey! Brooks and Frank! Wow."
Marlins fans may revel in all that, but what kind of enchantment is there, really? What kind of genuine, touching, profound, and real enchantment is there for a team like that?
It is the same for the current Yankees and Braves. Even though the players on those teams have been there for a while for the most part, they are still bought* And so whatever trophy they bring home will be bought, just like the novelty Harvard degree.
But that is what Joe Fan wants -- I've belabored this point to death.
It just breaks my heart.
We can no longer witness the genuinely wondrous drama unfold authentically and enjoy the enchantment of baseball flourish naturally.
We have to buy like it was taken off a shelf.
One of the kickers was when I heard about Bob Costas, someone I respect a tremendous amount, share in an apparent sentiment of many fans, and that was how Sosa and McGwire shouldn't have been doing the home run race thing again this year because it detracted from all the "magic" of last year.
Pathetic. This is what major league baseball has become. A commodity to be twisted and molded for one's own piddly personal whims and wishes.
It is not as much a Harvard degree as it is a Gumby.
"Hey, I'm payin' for this, so git me what I want. And I want Yankees and Dodgers. Oh, no Dodgers this year? Well then I'll take Yankees and dem new D-Backs. Yeahhh. Das it. There. You do what I want."
This is legitimacy?
This is authentic?
This is real?
What it is, is the postmortem not for the Giants, but for true baseball.
David Beck once played Fyedka in a production of "Fiddler on the Roof," wherein he wore a false nose and glasses during a rehearsal of the ballet sequence. He can be reached at david.beck@wcdhs.net.
Copyright ©1999 by David Beck Last updated 11/8/99
Gregg Pearlman, gregg@EEEEEEgp.com