Welcome back for the fourth year of Nachoman’s Baseball. As all regular readers know, the Nachoman specializes in analysis of actual baseball games. But, since I will not dignify exhibitions with any kind of serious analysis, preseason columns tend to digress into basketball, sports television, and the boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
First things first – two months ago, the Nachoman attended the Harry Wendelstedt Umpire School. If you’re wondering what that experience was like, take a look at this series of posts, starting January 1 and finishing in early February.
Next, for those of you new to Nachodom, each regular contributor to the column has a theme name bestowed upon him or her. If you are confused as to who’s who, please refer to the chart in a follow-up post.
And finally, please expect regular Friday articles until I feel like stopping. Tell your friends about the site. Spam Bill Simmons until he “pimps” my column. Spread the Nachoman experience.
So…. This week begins with…
Tommy gets feisty, to the general amusement of all
Weight-loss pitchman Tommy Lasorda took over as manager of the leftover Dodgers… One part of the Dodgers spring squad, along with manager Joe Torre, headed to China for an exhibition series. Those who were not assigned to make the trip remained in Vero Beach, Florida’s “Dodgertown” to play normal Grapefruit League exhibitions. Mr. Lasorda was appointed as a crowd pleaser; the Dodgers hoped that the presence of a demigod might distract the residents of Vero from their disgust that the team will be ending their six-decade-old relationship with the town.[1]
Anyway, in only the second inning of Mr. Lasorda’s first game, he bolted up from the bench to holler at plate umpire Damien Beal, provoking ecstasy from the crowd. Never mind that even the LA Times pointed out that Mr. Beal’s call was obviously correct, never mind that Mr. Lasorda couldn’t hide a huge grin as he was escorted back to the dugout by the umpires’ crew chief… the fans got the show they paid to see.
Now, you’re probably expecting me to give Mr. Lasorda a dose of Nachoman heck, right? After all, I’m a notorious defender of umpires, and a professionally-trained umpire myself. But you’re wrong. Consider the game from Mr. Beal’s perspective. Mr. Beal, 35 years old, has worked in the minor leagues since 1996. Twelve years of toil MAY, possibly, in the next 1-3 years, pay off with a major league job… or, maybe not.
But, whatever else happens with his career, Mr. Beal will be able to tell his grandchildren that he argued with Tommy Lasorda. That’s a career-defining moment. In a good way.
Randy Johnson Baseball: Revenge of the Birds is also under development
Looking for a cool new computer game that doesn’t involve gruesome, violent death? Check out Crayon Physics Deluxe, a time-waster in the best tradition of Minesweeper or Tetris, but even more addictive – I was enraptured just watching the video, so I can’t imagine how I would ever stop playing the actual game itself.
In other video game news, the Atlanta Cracker forwarded to me an article from Slate Magazine detailing some new offerings. Slate denigrated the ever-more-graphic but ever-more-realistic shoot-‘em-up games, but noted that independent designers have gained traction in the market now that an individual can in fact distribute a game over the internet. My favorite new idea:
“There are many games based on the exploits of Indiana Jones, but Purho's version is the only one that tells the story from the boulder's point of view, letting players control the rampaging sphere and smoosh wave after wave of attacking archeologists.”
This guy earns seven figures for being a football expert
I do have a measure of respect for Tony Kornheiser, who (with Michael Wilbon) practically invented the modern sports television genre of “men shouting at each other emphatically.” Granted, most of their imitators should be banished to the nether reaches of heck, along with television producers and executives who think that, just because the public enjoys Tony and Mike, all sports shows must involve buffoonery and hyperbolic opinion reported as fact. But I will admit to downloading the PTI podcast on a daily basis. Mr. Kornheiser parlayed his fame into a seat alongside Mike Tirico in the Monday Night Football broadcast booth. Yet Mr. Kornheiser should be ashamed to call himself a “football analyst” after his aside on a recent PTI show.
He quoted a blurb about the contract of Pittsburgh Steelers guard Alan Faneca, a seven-time pro bowler. Mr. Faneca is perhaps one of the three or four offensive linemen best known to the casual fan, likely because of his awesome work in the 2006 playoffs and Super Bowl blocking for Jerome Bettis and protecting Ben Rothlisberger.
Immediately after mentioning Mr. Faneca, Mr. Kornheiser said “I hope I pronounced that right.”
My goodness, that’s actually much worse than the president of the United States referring to nucular energy… what is Mr. Kornheiser doing to earn the money ESPN pays him? Apparently not any kind work to familiarize himself with the NFL.
Maybe my next column should come with a downloadable certificate of authenticity
As is the magazine’s tradition, mere moments after the Giants won the Super Bowl, Sports Illustrated commercials emerged offering a New York Giants championship commerative football as an enticement to new subscribers. This football comes with a panel listing the scores for all of the Giants games this year.[2]
It also comes with a “certificate of authenticity.” Um, what does that mean? SI certifies that this is a genuine football-shaped object? That these are the authentic scores from the authentic 2007 Giants season? Or, that it’s an authentic mass produced piece of pretend memorabilia?
Headlines: Blind Squirrel Finds Nut, CBS Basketball Broadcast Earns Praise
When’s the last time you heard a matter-of-fact basketball analyst who didn’t use hyperbole, who consistently shut up when his play-by-play man needed to give information, whose tone was never one of self-promotion, who talked about basketball rather than about players’ and coaches’ personal lives? When’s the last time you heard a television play-by-play guy who named every player who took a shot or committed a foul?
Answer: when Ian Eagle and Jim Spanarkel did an outstanding job with the March 9 Florida-Kentucky game. Sure, it’s sad that merely fulfilling the basic covenant of broadcasting merits such over-the-top praise. But I will give credit where it’s due. Here’s hoping that Mssrs. Eagle and Spanarkel do some NCAA tournament work.
I didn’t think this ever happened outside the world of cartoons
The Nachoboy actually stepped on a garden rake, causing the handle to pop up and hit him in the nose, Sideshow Bob-style. The poor boy didn’t understand why I was laughing while his nose hurt.
An active lawsuit made for much more interesting news, thank you very much.
Remember the slimeball lawyer who filed suit against the Patriots for cheating in the Super Bowl against the Rams? Every sports media outlet in America reported that juicy story prominently. However, as far as I can see, only USA Today spotlighted the AP story about the slimeball lawyers withdrawing their suit. [Follow-up: si.com put it up in small type on their front page a day later.]
In the absence of baseball games to discuss…
Folks, I am a certified Kentucky Basketball fan. Thus, I wince every time I even hear discussion of Christian Laettner’s miracle shot in 1992. In fact, when I checked the previous link to be sure it worked, I averted my eyes from the video. I don’t know why anyone would watch such filth.
Yet, the Laettner shot lives on as the standard for a full-court end-of-game miracle. Even though Bryce Drew hit an even more miraculous shot for Valparaiso six years after Laettner, Duke-Kentucky seems to live longer in the country’s collective sports memory. There are good reasons for this. Mr. Laettner’s shot won the regional final, while Mr. Drew’s shot won a mere first-round game. Duke ended up winning the national championship in 1992, while Valpo fizzled out. Duke beat Kentucky, a team with memorable history, a team that was going places under Rick Pitino, a team that had risen from the ashes of NCAA probation after the evil Eddie Sutton escaped Lexington with tar and feathers still stuck to his back; I’ll send a Nachoman business card to anyone who can, without internet assistance, name the team that Mr. Drew slew with his shot.
I thus categorize the Duke-Kentucky game as more significant, more historic, more relevant to the national sports consciousness. But, the Valpo ending included a better shot which must be described as more miraculous.[3]
Other than to pick at an old wound, my point is to describe the awesome ending to the Minnesota-Indiana game in the Big 10 tournament. Blake Hoffarber hit a Christian Laettner shot, except it was better than the Laettner shot.
Minnesota-Indiana: The Summary
I worked this game for STATS. My preference was to see ex-Kentucky coach Tubby Smith knock off the University of Naïveté.[4] However, since I was keeping stats, my primary rooting interest was to avoid overtime. When Indiana’s Eric Gordon got to the free throw line with just a few seconds left, I cheered wildly for him to miss at least one shot, as his team was down two points. Woo-hoo, he missed the first.
Thus the extra-low-percentage, desperate tactic was set up, requiring Mr. Gordon to deliberately miss the free throw and hope for a long rebound that could be tipped in. That never works. Unless, that is, the Minnesota players inexplicably allow no fewer than two Indiana players to outleap them by several feet. It was DJ White who tipped in the tying basket with less than 3 seconds left… and got fouled in the process. At the time I looked at the foul as my salvation: now I cheered wildly for Mr. White to make his free throw to win the game.
Mr. White missed, but garnered his own rebound.[5] He got fouled again, this time with 1.4 seconds showing on the clock. Now with two chances to win the game, he missed the first free throw (aarrgh!) but hit the second. Minnesota called time out, down by 1, to “set up” a play.[6]
Travis Busch threw a long pass. Right-handed Blake Hoffarber somehow caught it over two defenders, landed facing away from the basket, turned, heaved with his left hand… swish. And there was much rejoicing.
Other interesting periphery
AWESOME… The Big 10 network had a camera over Tubby Smith’s huddle during the final timeout. We could see everything he wrote! Unfortunately, I couldn’t decipher what he was planning. But kudos to the network for giving viewers some actual insight into a team’s strategy, even if that strategy boiled down to “clasp your hands together and pray really, really hard.”
NOT Awesome… the last 5 seconds took several geologic epochs to play, with timeout following upon timeout. On one occasion the officials took two minutes to correct a two-second timing discrepancy. (My objection isn’t that the officials made the correction… my objection is that they took so dang long to do so.) Similarly, the officials reviewed the last-second shot to be sure it beat the buzzer. Okay, no problem there… even though the shot seemed obviously good, a quick look at the replay can’t hurt to be sure. But the review took several minutes! I mean, how hard is it to look at the first replay that the Big 10 network showed, see the ball released and the red light go on with the ball in the air, and end the game? What were they looking at? This is why I hate replay.
LIGHTNING STRIKING TWICE… Mr. Hoffarber is no stranger to last-second miracle shots. The Big 10 network showed a clip of him making a tying three-point buzzer-beater to send his high school state championship game to overtime: He was on his arse near the sideline, the ball fell in his hands, and he lofted a prayer that swished.
KUDOS FOR THE HISTORICAL REFERENCE: Mr. Busch, on his reaction after the Hoffarber shot swished: “I went nuts. I was like Jim Valvano looking for someone to hug.” Mr. Busch was -5 years old when Mr. Valvano’s NC State team beat Houston because Hakeem didn’t box out.
Epilogue
The Big Ten network, who otherwise did a masterful job covering this game, sent their cheerleader-shaped sideline reporter to interview Tubby Smith and Blake Hoffarber after the game. What dumb questions she asked… “How did you do it?” “What was going through your mind as you hit the shot?” “How do you bring the momentum tomorrow?”
Come on! Ask them whether they practice that play. Ask them if there was any design to the play, and if so, if the play went as planned. Ask them how often they actually hit shots like that in practice. Ask about the poor boxing out on the free throw rebound that allowed Indiana to tie, making the miracle shot necessary in the first place. Or even ask Mr. Hoffarber to compare this shot to his high school title game shot. So many better questions. Maybe I could be a sideline reporter if I got a boob job and a lobotomy.
A cultural perspective on the phenomenon of baseball celebrity worship[7]
The first major league baseball “game” was played in China in mid-March. In a tribute to the leadership of Alan “Bud” Selig, the exhibition ended in a 3-3 tie. Dodgers starter and Korean folk hero Chan Ho Park gave up one run in five solid innings.
After the game, Mr. Park was mobbed by a, um, mob of Koreans begging for an autograph. However, in a move seemingly worthy of George Wallace, a long line of Chinese police linked arms and formed a wall between Mr. Park and his fans. Much shouting ensued, Mr. Park begged unsuccessfully to meet the autograph seekers, some folks began to shove, the police wouldn’t budge, things started to look bad. Someone from major league baseball seemed to negotiate a compromise, by which the crowd would disperse but leave items to be brought to Mr. Park to sign later. (You can guess as to whether Mr. Park ever received those items.) “The important thing was that nobody got hurt and nobody was embarrassed, not the Chinese, and not baseball,” said the Chinese security official on the scene.
Sounds really, really bad, right? Sounds like clear evidence that China is a police state where personal freedoms are tromped upon, with a heavy shot of racism thrown in to boot.
But hold on, now… it just doesn’t make sense that China, who has recently proven quite adept at importing international sports money (see World Cup 2002, Olympics 2008), would risk alienating the world’s third- or fourth- most powerful sports league in order to strong-arm a few Koreans. Let’s make an attempt to strip away the veil of American culture, and try to figure out what happened from the Chinese perspective. I asked Woodberry Chinese professor Scott Navitsky, who has lived and studied extensively in China, to help me out here.
First of all, as the original Yahoo article and Mr. Navitsky confirm, the phenomenon of the autograph seeker is rather foreign to Chinese culture. Americans see worshipful fans who want nothing but a signature and perhaps one of Chan Ho’s used hankies, while the Chinese police likely saw what they thought was a dangerous mob who might eat Mr. Park.
Secondly, within Chinese state bureaucracy, initiative by lower-level entities is not encouraged. The late Stephen Ambrose, in his writings about American participation in the second World War, noted the US army’s expectation that small-squad leaders (i.e. sergeants and corporals) were encouraged by their commanders to make independent decisions where appropriate. A similar attitude permeates American culture today – it is expected that a mid-level employee has some level of ability to use discretion in the execution of his or her duties. The excuse “sorry, I have to follow orders to the letter” is met with derision. Not so across the Pacific.
Paraphrasing Mr. Navitsky, these Chinese policemen likely lived in fear of an “embarrassing incident.” Had anything, however minor, happened to Mr. Park, the policemen would have been held accountable in a serious way. Orders, issued from very high up the bureaucratic chain, were to protect the ballplayers. A man-on-the-scene who countermanded those orders would have been punished, even if his decision turned out to be useful.
Furthermore, Mr. Navitsky rejected the thought that racism might have been a motivation in the incident. There is not particularly bad blood between Koreans and Han Chinese, especially in Beijing where Koreans make up a small but economically significant minority. More to the point, he suggests that had the crazy fans been Chinese, they might well have earned worse treatment from the police, who would have had no worries about creating an international incident.
Mr. Torre, how will you bring the momentum to China?
Someone in the American reporter pool actually asked Dodgers manager Joe Torre a clever if tangential question: “Which is more imposing, the Great Wall of China or the Green Monster?” According to the LA Times, Mr. Torre (or his speechwriters) responded, "depends on if you're a pitcher or a hitter, I guess."
And Finally, What Pricks…
Burrito Girl is taking a course at the Richmond, VA arts center on spinning.[8] Her goal is to obtain some pet bunnies, pet them, and make yarn out of their fur.
She has to sign a legal waiver, absolving the arts center of all liability should she come to bodily harm during her class. What do they think’s gonna happen, she’s gonna prick her finger and go to sleep for 100 years?
Next Week…
An introduction to the NachoGrandpa’s retirement pastimes. Tune in on Friday.
[1] “What could I do?” says Dodgers owner Frank McCourt. “They.. drove a dump truck full of money up to my house.”
[2] Presumably including the 41-17 demolition at the hands of the Vikings last November, but you never know.
[3] And, because Valpo executed the hook-and-lateral to get Mr. Drew an open shot, their “miracle” didn’t depend on poor Kentucky defense.
[4] Indiana hired Kelvin Sampson as coach despite the fact that he had lied about recruiting violations at Oklahoma. Of course, Mr. Sampson subsequently committed similar violations at Indiana, and lied about them, too; Indiana had to pay close to a million dollars to be rid of Mr. Sampson. Good to hear that the taxpayers of Indiana are being so well served by the administrators of their university.
[5] This guy is good.
[6] I still think there’s a good bit of coach’s hubris involved in “setting up” a full-court shot with 1.4 seconds to go. I mean, either you practiced a set piece for this occasion (like the Valparaiso hook-and-lateral), or you didn’t. If you did practice, all the coach needs to say is “run that play.” If you didn’t practice, it seems that the players are as capable as the coach of diagramming “throw a long pass, catch it, and shoot.” I’d be interested to hear from basketball players and coaches as to what could possibly be drawn up on the spur of the moment in a Laettner-type situation. Tubby Smith later told USA Today that he was hoping to draw a foul – a strategy which hardly requires a basketball Ph.D. to implement.
[7] Details of the incident described can be found in this Steve Henson article
[8] No, not “spinning” as practiced on stationary bikes in steamy rooms while an overly perky and vigorous woman shouts into a headset. Spinning as in spinning wool into yarn.
