September 25, 1996

As the pennant races (or at least what they like to call pennant races) wind down here in September of 1996, I've taken some time to think about the really good years I was able to enjoy the really good things that happened for my favorite teams and for baseball. I hankered for those days when my team went all the way and baseball reflected what was right about America. (Yeah, yeah, I know that's really trite, but it serves my purpose here.) And by gosh by golly I found there to be a grand total of zero truly satisfying years.

Zero. None. Nada.

Now, of course, many will say, "Oh, but what about years like 1949?" and all that nostalgic blather, but for one thing, years like 1949 almost always involved the Dodgers and Yankees, two teams I loathe, and for another thing, all that sentimental old-time traditional stuff was before 1971 when I really started paying attention the major league game.

In fact, it was around that time that the worst evil to pillage pro sports began to wreck baseball: free agency. So right at the moment an innocent ingenuous little ten-year old stepped into Candlestick Park to see the glory of the game unfold before him, it was being irreparably corrupted by the reprehensible duplicity of the bigger-than-life baseball stars who appeared to be proudly venturing to prevail in the name of goodness and excellence.

In 1971 it had been two years since the leagues were split into divisions, and naturally all the baseball "purists" wept about it. Now, I don't consider myself a baseball "purist," because a purist to me is the guy who laments changing the number of balls needed for a walk from nine to four. A purist is someone who cries about stupid pointless little things just so he can get people to look at him and say, "Oooo, that guy is a purist. How noble he is."

I like some of the changes in the game, but I do not like the changes that clearly mess it up. I'm sorry, you so-called purists, but the designated hitter has not ruined the game. Free agency has done infinitely more damage; why don't you ever say anything about that? I never saw anything wrong with having two divisions in each league, but I think this three division setup with the wild-card is worthless. It's great for NFL football, and I love NFL football, but in baseball, it bites.

Everyone now anticipates having interleague play, and that is big-time nonsense. Now people may rightly say that it may be a change that is okay, and yeah, we'll see. (Even though I hope not.) I think the reason I hate it so much is not because it is so profoundly stupid to begin with, but because it is being implemented for the media and for the toadying fans who know squat. It has nothing to do with baseball.

And that is the crux of my argument. Baseball in and of itself is the greatest game ever invented. It is the major leagues that take the game and mangle it.

So I thought I'd take some time to commiserate with my computer about how wretched major league baseball has been. I simply cannot open the newspaper this year and look for anything good about the "pennant races."

First, however, a look at the true upright teams in the major leagues, and then a look at the wicked heathen teams.

The true virtuous upright honorable teams:

• San Francisco Giants. I was brought up in and near the Bay Area, so that certainly is a good reason for being a fan. In fact, I consider living or being brought up in or near the location of the team as the only credible criterion for an individual to be a true fan of any team. Those dorks who say "I'm a fan just because I like the team" and have never been anywhere near the city are simps. (Let's not even talk about those who say, "I like the team because their uniforms are bitchin'." -- GP) That is, unless of course they choose to be die hard committed Giants fans. Then they are only doing what is right and true and good.

• Kansas City Royals. I was born about 100 miles west of Kansas City, and went to all kinds of Royals games when I visited my relatives there. I especially admire how the club built the team into a contender within a few of years of its inception, making it a rare expansion winner, in a small media market no less. Of course, I deplore any other expansion team doing this. The proper acceptable wait for any expansion team to make the playoffs is no fewer than twenty years. Sorry.

• California Angels. Since I now live in southern California, I have adopted the Angels as my local team. When I moved here in 1978, I just liked a lot of the players on the team, particularly Lyman Bostock. At one point he had a bad stretch of playing poorly and committed whatever money he earned during that time to charity. I was really taken by this because it was so contrary to the greed and the bull that ballplayers had always displayed. When Bostock was shot and killed I couldn't believe it. In fact the Angels have always been considered a team that has been cursed in some way because of tragedies like this and because their unfortunate history on the field.

The wicked heathen evil teams:

• Los Angeles Dodgers. The superlative essence of communist, fascist, Nazi, puppy-strangling, kitty-slashing, bunny-raping, slime-sucking worm rectums.

• New York Yankees. Couple of reasons to despise them: 1) They beat the Royals all the time in the seventies when they had no business doing so, and 2) They're like the Dallas Cowboys, a team everybody likes just because. The whole America's team stuff makes me puke. The Atlanta Braves are starting to get to me that way, but they just don't evoke the contempt that the whole past glory-New York media-George Steinbrenner stuff does. In my short lifetime, I have seen:
  • Reggie Jackson hitting his third home run in the last game of the '77 Series 388 times.

  • Roger Maris having to look into bright camera lights with a look of venomous contempt 517 times.

  • A cheesy '40s-Hollywood-style newspaper clipping of Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak flip onto the screen 695 times.

  • Yogi Berra's legs wrapped around Don Larson 8,284 times.

  Enough already.

• Oakland A's. I really never minded the A's until in the mid-'80s when I began to realize that they were competing with the Giants for the Bay Area's affection, and when they started winning in the late '80s this became extremely galling. I figured, they had their winning years in the early '70s, now they should be nobodies. Mostly they're just annoying.

I have devised a scale of values for the disappointment I felt after each season since 1971. The unit of measure is the "Eeeeee!!!" Face. And now to the Disappointment Scale:

Season result was the abject wretched worst. Essentially, evil triumphed.

Season was still a disaster, but perhaps there was some -- however tiny -- saving grace.

Season was wash-out, at the least.

Season may have actually had some good things about it, but it had too many rotten things.

Season may have been okay, even good, but there was at least some stupid thing that happened to taint it in some way.

Before I begin, some may say, "Wull, look at the teams you like! For instance, you like the Royals! They've had great success before! What're you complaining about? Teams like the Rangers and the Expos have had pretty much no success!"

My answer is simple. I don't give a rat's fistula about the Rangers or the Expos. I hope they lose. Always. Any team that interferes with my teams winning is the enemy. Anything that happens that I don't want to happen is wrong. Period.

With that in mind, I proceed....

1971

Giants win the division but lose to Bob Robertson and the Pirates. My devotion to the Giants is in its most nascent stage, and this really sets me up for major disappointment later because the Giants, in my eyes, are now supposed to win. They are the noble valorous champions of Daveosity. Anyway, the disappointment value is not as bad as indicated because I am just starting to like the team and I am sure they'll just win it all the following year.

1972

A's get to go to World Series and win it. Barely a handful of years before, they were wretched in Kansas City; now in Oakland they are World Champs? Errgh. But again as a young fan it is no big deal. The disappointment value here is mostly because of what I think about the A's now.

1973

A's again win it all, against the Mets, who have a miserable record for a World Series team and are there again after winning it all in '69. In '62 they finished 60-some games behind the Giants; here they make the World Series in two out of five years? What is the deal with that?

1974

A's again and versus the Dodgers. 'Nuff said.

1975

The second greatest World Series of the modern day, and none of my teams are involved.

1976

Royals get beaten by Chris Chambliss. My heart is in my toenail when Mark Littell's pitch goes over the fence. The fact that the Reds smear the Yankees in the Series doesn't help much.

1977

Royals again go down to Yankees, and after being ahead in the ninth inning of the fifth game. The Dodgers are in the World Series to boot. I remember during high school, my Drama teacher, Mr. Bradley, a man I respected very much, was in a rush to leave after school and I asked him what he was planning to do. He said, beaming, "I'm going to watch the World Series!" Oh, wow... how nice for him. I just remember how jealous I was. It was easily one of the most miserable feelings I ever remember having.

1978

Royals this time definitely have a better team than the Yankees and still lose. And Dodgers are back in Series. It is just too much to take.

1979

Angels lose to Orioles. Major redeeming factor is that the Pirates are so endearing this year, and it is genuinely exciting watching Willie Stargell and "family" come from behind to win it.

1980

Royals finally spank Yankees, but lose to inferior Phillies in Series. I am overwhelmed with glee when George Brett crushes that pitch at Yankee Stadium, but my expectations are so high for the Series that I am crestfallen when the Phillies get every break in the book to win.

1981

One of the most nightmarish baseball experiences ever. First, the strike destroys half the season, then a World Series features two teams that should've been miles from being there. This is when I first consider how the establishment and the media play such a huge role in influencing -- if not all-out "fixing" the outcome of events in the major leagues. There is no way in the world the Dodgers and Yankees should be there, but, yumptee-doo, there they are because everyone wants to see it. What crap.

1982

Angels up two-zip on Brewers, then lose three straight. There could be five "Eeeeee!!!" Faces here except for two key things:

1. The Giants have a surprisingly good season. Of all the Giants' seasons, this is really about the least disappointing, because little is expected and we are in it all the way. The last game of the season also features one of the great Giants moments of all-time: Joe Morgan's three-run blast that shoves the Dodgers out of the playoffs. Yes, oh yes.

2. The Cardinals beat the Brewers in a good World Series. I'm not crazy about a team named after beer-making. It is pointed out to me some time later that the Cardinals are run by the Busch people and they make beer, so I kinda say, "Oh."

1983

Dodgers win division. Bad enough to merit three "Eeeeee!!!" Faces. They lose the pennant, though. Good.

1984

There are four possibilities of World Series matchups from the division winners. My order of preference:

1. Royals vs. Cubs. Hey, Royals.

2. Royals vs. Padres. Hey, Royals again. Gotta go with it.

3. Tigers vs. Cubs. Classic old Series matchup revisited. Neat.

4. Tigers vs. Padres. Ee-yucch.

Guess which one happens? After the Cubs are up two-zip in their series, I just know they're going to tank it. (Needless to say, everyone else in the civilized world does, too.)

After the Royals are ousted by an admittedly better Tigers team, I really want that Tigers-Cubs matchup. Errgh. Another thing that warrants the five "Eeeeee!!!" Faces is that Giants season is a huge pile of kukka. Their hitting is great, actually; it's their pitching that schlurps. They lose a lot of 8-6 games, and virtually every time they are up 6-5 in the seventh.

1985

The only year that the right result happens and the whole thing is marred by everyone's perception that it was Don Denkinger and his bad call that won the Series for the Royals, when they are far and away the better team, in talent, in determination (coming back from being down 3-1 twice), and in character. The Giants season is even worse than the one in '84. They lose 100 games with a good pitching staff. It is their hitting, though, that schlurps. They lose a lot of 2-1 games in which it is 2-1 from the first inning to the end of the game. Astoundingly depressing.

1986

One of the worst playoff experiences ever. I really think I am being punished for the Royals' triumph the year before. First, the Giants have a really pretty good season and then get no-hit by Mike Scott in the game that eliminates them and clinches the division for the Astros. Then the Angels blow a 3-1 playoff series lead against the Red Sox; in the fifth game they have two different instances in which one more strike would win them the pennant. (Donnie Moore's failure to throw one of those strikes led to a case of overwhelming pathological guilt that later resulted in his suicide.) Then the Red Sox (whom I am rooting for because the Mets to me are simply a National League version of the Yankees), ahead 5-3 in Game Six and up 3-2 in the Series, need one more strike themselves to win it all, but instead we all watch Calvin Schiraldi give up two runs before Bill Buckner lets Mookie Wilson's grounder dribble through his legs. No way the Red Sox will win Game Seven. They don't.

1987

How much more of this can I take? It's the greatest Giants season since '71, we dominate the Cardinals in going up 3-2 in the playoffs, and then Dave Dravecky's second masterful performance of the series is flushed when Candy Maldonado loses the ball in the lights.

I remember the feeling as I listened to the end of the last game. It was indescribable -- for that feeling alone this season gets the five "Eeeeee!!!" Faces. The Twins went on to win the World Series. We would have eaten them alive.

1988

I continue to be cruelly punished for the Royals triumph of three years before. The A's, Dodgers, and Mets all win their divisions, and the A's crush the Red Sox. Yet another Series with no rooting interest, and even so, a thoroughly weak Dodger team wins the World Series. Don't tell me somebody somewhere did not have a underhanded part in this somehow.

1989

The Giants win the pennant on Will Clark's heroics and therefore there should be no "Eeeeee!!!" Faces, but this season gets three solid ones simply because we get dusted by the A's. The A's can't beat the weenie Dodgers, but they can have their way with us. You can see the little puke bits seeping out of these faces, that's for sure, because my stomach couldn't tolerate this anymore.

1990

Three "Eeeeee!!!" Faces simply because the A's are there again, and they get swept by the Reds who are just like the Dodgers of two years before: a "What the heck are they doing there?" team. At least the A's lose.

1991

The greatest World Series of the modern day, and again none of my teams are involved.

1992

Pretty much lost track of this season. Personal stuff in my life consumed my attention, and it was a good thing too, because the Giants were destined -- as much as out the door, it was that far gone -- for St. Petersburg. Only Peter Magowan and some clever backing-out-of-the-agreement stuff saved the Giants for San Francisco. For all the grief, it gets an easy four "Eeeeee!!!" Faces.

1993

Yet again lots of "Eeeeee!!!"'s. The only reason it doesn't get five is that the Giants win 103 games. But we lose the division by one game. And we still should have won at least two more if we'd've just pitched Scott Sanderson instead of messing around with Jim Deshaies.

1994

With all the team disappointments I've experienced, the events of this season reflect the primary reason why the major leagues is the most repugnantly fetid colossal pile of bleep.

Not only was this supposed to be the first year of their three-division wild-card bull manure, but they didn't even have it because of a player strike. And the players were not even striking because of something the owners had done but because of what the owners were thinking of doing, and what is worse (there's worse?) is that things are no different right now on September 25, 1996 than they were at the moment the players went on strike August 12 -- so what was the point?

There is no question that the players are contemptibly reproachable for this; I'm sorry but the owners just aren't nearly as much, except for the fact that they let the players get away with as much of this as they did.

For every point that some bozo brings up that he thinks makes the case for the players, I've got one that blows it apart. Every time.

But even so, what is remarkable is that it is not even the players' fault, really.

Ultimately, it is the fans who must take all the blame. The typical major league fan is a mullethead, really. Don't think so? Listen to any sports call-in talk show, read any letter-to-the-editor in the newspaper, or simply talk to any Joe Fan at your typical sports bar and the sentiment is always the same:

Joe Fan: Yeah, ha-ruuuumph, those major leaguers are making too damn much money. Went to the game the other day, and...

Stop. Really, this clown needs to say nothing else. What is he doing going to the ballgame? If he really thinks the ballplayers are making too much, then he should shut up or stop giving them his money.

Let's be honest, people. After the players went on strike for a second substantive time -- 1981 and 1994 being those two times -- every single fan should have said, "Hey, we're not going to get screwed like this any more. We're not going to any games." But they didn't. Why?

Because they're mulletheads, that's why.

And that is also why the media and the establishment are so pleased that here in '96 the Dodgers and the Yankees -- as well as other big-market teams like the Braves and the Orioles -- are in contention, because they know that fans are too stupid to really be committed to anything else and that ultimately that stupidity translates into dollars. The players strut around with their little story about how much they have to do to bring the fans back and they do diddly-squat.

Do I have an ax to grind? You bet. Am I bitter? I don't hide it. I love the game of baseball, and the major leagues -- given the privilege and responsibility to uphold and elevate this game -- have thoroughly desecrated it.

I would like a major leagues where each team puts its players on the field, not a bunch of mercenaries who don't give the tiniest tick about loyalty, about being true to the city where they play and the people who live there. If I were commissioner of baseball and had unlimited power I'd kill free agency in a nanosecond. Thing is, I wouldn't have to do that if the fans were just smart. And I can't do that, so I have to expect help from fans who are simply too dense to know what to do. And it isn't even as much the free agency as it is the lying and the pretense and the hypocrisy that goes into it all.

What we get is a season like this. No pennant races, no World Series, and a bunch of whiny fans and ballplayers who blame everyone but themselves.

Makes you want to hurl your lungs into the street.

1995

It is almost a carbon-copy of '93, only this time it is with the Angels. Up by a gazillion games in September, they lose the division to the Mariners. I'm still being punished for '85. Dodgers and Yankees make it to playoffs, but fortunately those same Mariners come from behind to beat New York, too.

1996

The season hasn't even ended yet and I'm just tired of it. Tired of the torment. That's all. The end.

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