The Day After

So I guess Donald Trump is going to be the President of the United States of America.

I am saddened and frustrated by the results of the election, but this post isn't about that. Not exactly, at least. It's not about what I think of Donald Trump as a human, or how he managed to win, or how Bernie Sanders would've mopped the floor with Trump, or what's next for Hillary Clinton, or anything else.

No, that's not what I'm here to talk about. This post is about me, and this post is about you.

This post is about all of us who have been horrified from day one about the idea of Trump as President, and the reasons we felt that way, and how we cringed as each round of results got posted and Trump's victory seemed more and more likely.

This post is about what we're supposed to do next, now that we're on the ass end of this election.

The classic joke is to say we're moving to Canada, or Australia, or Germany, or wherever else you think you might find respite from whatever a Trump presidency looks like.

I can't do that. I can't leave. And I don't mean that in a literal way, just because I don't have a passport. I could get a passport. I could apply to work as an ALT in Japan (I'm learning quite a bit about the process). I could move to Canada and get a job as a Zamboni driver (although, I imagine the competition is a bit stiffer up there).

But from a moral standpoint, I can't leave. When I woke up yesterday morning, this was my country. As I watched the election results tonight, this was my country.

When I wake up tomorrow, this will still be my fucking country.

The United States, to me, has always been about hope, and about trying to make things better for generations to come. And sometimes, things suck.

Our nation has fought in multiple wars, most in victory, some in defeat. Our nation has stared down the Soviet Union's nuclear arsenal in the Cold War. Our nation has been the victim of massive terrorist attacks in New York, in Oklahoma City, and in far too many other places. Today, our country faces very real issues of racism, and sexism, and hatred, and fear. And make no mistake, those sentiments are a big part of why Donald Trump was elected.

So what do we do now?

As I said, I have no plans of abandoning my country in its hour of need, and I implore you to resist that urge as well. If you truly believe that the election of Donald Trump represents a worrisome acceptance of disrespect, then your patriotism is needed now more than ever.

As a white male, I've got it pretty easy. I don't find that I get discriminated against, like ever, at least as far as I can tell. So when I hear people talk about how society is stacked against black people, or the LGBT community, or women, or Latinos, I've always thought to myself, "I don't have a ton of personal experience to draw from to understand this."

But, I kind of do.

I've grown up hearing (and in my embarrassing youth, occasionally saying myself) the word "gay" or "fag" with a negative connotation. I've heard people talk about crime problems in "inner cities" and "urban areas," and knowing that what they're trying to say in a thinly-veiled code is that black people are criminals. I've heard women referred to as "bitch" or worse, in circumstances that would not warrant a proportionally equivalent insult to a man.

To summarize, I've seen and heard white men say and do things that reinforce a sense of superiority for white men. Well, it's time to stop all that.

For a long time I just brushed by these kinds of comments, but at some point I read an article (probably one of the millions of posts I get emailed from Medium), and it triggered something in my head that said, "No, you can't just not say anything anymore."

And that goes for all of us. We have to stand up.

If you're white and you hear someone say something overtly or covertly racist, you have to call them out on it. If you're a man and you hear someone shit-talk a woman simply for being a woman, let them know you understand exactly what they're doing. If you're a human being and you hear someone say "faggot," it's your responsibility to bury that shit.

The United States has always, at least in a vague way, yearned to stand up for the less fortunate. It's time for us Americans to be less vague about it.

The greatest flaw of the Donald Trump "movement" is that it has allowed room for misogyny, bigotry, and a general disrespect for our fellow humans. But there's no reason that his victory has to stifle our ability to be decent to each other.

As the old saying goes, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

So be better, people. Our country needs us.

Gun Rights and Black Lives Matter

I do not claim to be an expert on either of the topics I'm about to discuss. I don't have any sort of personal experience with guns, though I definitely don't like them. I don't intend on ever owning a gun, which as I understand it is a right afforded to me by the Constitution, just as it would be my right to own one if I chose.

I also don't really have any expertise when it comes to race relations. I'm a white guy from the suburbs. I haven't had many non-white friends, and even my non-white friends have basically been "White" guys. I worked in a liquor store in Prince George's County for a while, that's about the extent of my immersion in black culture. See, I don't even know enough about black culture to know whether or not I'm supposed to capitalize "black." If I'm supposed to, let me know and I'll try to update my thinking.

Anywho, this blog post isn't truly about gun rights or Black Lives Matter, at least not separately. From reading a lot of posts on the topics over the past few weeks and months, I found myself constantly pondering the whole American environment, and I had what for me qualifies as an epiphany.

There's a way of looking at the two subjects that intertwines them heavily, and when it does, it makes me believe that gun rights advocates should support Black Lives Matter, and vice versa.

Let me walk you through my thought process.

The first factor here is the argument innate to any gun rights advocate, that the possession of firearms is vital to the preservation of a democratic society. When civilians don't have guns (or more basically, the ability to deny oppression), the state can oppress them. Civilians need guns in order to keep politicians in check.

Not really my personal opinion, but that's the stance.

Now, from the dozens of articles I've read about firsthand experiences by black people with police officers, the over-arching sentiment seems to be that police officers are to be obeyed without question, particularly by people of color. I've always felt the same way, having grown up with a police officer in the family, but the tone is very different from my growing-up experience.

Basically, if you're a black person, you listen to the cops or you die. Strong words, but the sentiment across the country is that it's true.

Now, police officers are the most direct (and sometimes only) contact we'll ever have with the state. Most of us don't interact with senators or governors or the FBI. So what we're talking about here is the representative of the state demanding compliance or death. Or at least, that's the perception. Again, I'm not talking about my personal experience, I'm just talking about the articles I've read.

So, wouldn't it make sense for gun activists to rally around Black Lives Matter? You would think that they would say, "You see? This is a group of disenfranchised people who are being heavily oppressed by our government. They are the evidence that our civil liberties have been taken away with gun control, and we need to make sure everyone who wants a weapon to protect him- or herself from the government can acquire and carry one without harassment."

And similarly, people who support the Black Lives Matter movement should be able to look at gun advocates and say, "Yes, exactly, we need to be suspicious of government representatives who demand obedience. We need to make sure that we the people retain the full breadth of our power to dictate terms with our government."

I haven't seen either group reach out to the other, and I haven't seen anyone make this same connection between the two camps. Is this the solution to the problems that face our world today? No. There isn't a solution. If there's a way to reliably avoid the tragedies we've encountered recently, it's not one single tactic or answer. It's a bunch of different stuff, things that will take a long time and a lot of effort.

And it's just as likely that there's no way to avoid it at all. With as many people as are in the United States, there are inevitably going to be some bad people, and some mistakes, and some unlucky circumstances. Smartphones and the Internet have made all of this content available to the world in an instant. My sense is that we're stuck with social judgment for the foreseeable future. So behave.

Literally everybody is watching.

A Donald Trump Rally "Speech"

On my way to work this weekend, I was listening to the radio and I managed to catch most of one of Donald Trump's speeches to voters in Arizona. It was an interesting experience. Without delving into my personal politics too much, and while trying to avoid using biased terminology or tone, here are some of my takeaways.

Anything Worth Saying Once...

Donald Trump repeats himself constantly. And I don't mean that he circles around and hammers home a point he had made earlier in his remarks. I mean that literally he says something (like "the media lies"), and then immediately says it again (verbatim, "the media lies" again).

At first I thought it was just a nuance about the way he talks, but I think it's at least somewhat intentional. Trump is an accomplished salesman; in fact, I've heard him described as someone who's "always trying to sell you on something." Right now, he's trying to sell himself. Part of that is hammering home his strongest points, and another part is making sure that he sets himself up to be as quotable as possible. Two different instances of the same message gives two chances to find the best quote. You can disagree with his politics or dislike him as a person, but Trump is an extremely skilled seller.

Fear...But Also Safety

Trump has appropriately been lambasted for his repeated exploitation of the fears of many people about terrorism, about illegal immigrants, and about crime. But it's not just that he's reminding people about tragedies that have occurred; he's telling us that he can prevent them from ever happening again.

Obviously he doesn't have this capability, and again, I think he's probably aware that his "solutions" aren't going to be able to guarantee Americans' safety, regardless of his claims. But he's literally the only candidate in either party who's even proposed to have a way to address Americans' fears. He may be over-selling it, but everyone else has missed the opportunity to sell themselves as a protector in this time of uncertainty. As I said, I don't believe him, but he's smart to sell himself that way.

A Kind Word

Other candidates do this as well, but Trump goes out of his way to offer incredible compliments to his supporters. He also finds ways to phrase his brags as a form of complimenting his supporters. For example, he mentioned almost every state he's won through this primary season, totaling about a dozen times during the speech. But he fully implements the underdog mentality, the "us vs. them" line of thought, giving his supporters credit for "showing those stupid pundits how wrong they are."

When he says that the media is lying, he doesn't say "The media is lying about me." He says, "The media is lying about us." But "we're gonna show them, just like we've been showing them for months."

There's validity here again. Donald Trump is representing a group of people who have thus far been under-represented in government. They respond to his rhetoric, to the strength he conveys, and to his singularity in the history of American politics. We've never had a candidate like him (I assume; it's possible that James Buchanan was a real firecracker). He's funny, he's interesting, and he's got a powerful and recognizable personality.

Like I said, I hopefully left out any personal feelings I have towards Trump or any other candidate when writing this. There's no question that he's brought far more attention to the process than there's been in years past. I'm even considering paying for SiriusXM Radio, just to stay tuned in on my drives to and from work.

Trump has got me literally investing in the process. That's something.

We Have to Talk About Dennis

Here's what we're talking about, for reference:



The moment I saw the above clip showing Dennis Wideman pummel a referee from behind, I knew this was a thing.

Let's review what happens in the incident.

1. Mikko Salomaki (#20 on Nashville) gives Wideman a check along the boards.
2. Wideman spins as a result of the hit, his head pounding into the glass.
3. Wideman begins to skate back to the bench, visibly affected by the hit.
4. The linesman, #91 Don Henderson, skates backwards in front of the benches, watching the play come back down the ice.
5. While the puck is played just a few feet away, Wideman beelines towards the bench. He shoves Henderson in the back, pushing him violently to the ground.
6. Wideman skates past the fallen Henderson and enters the bench area, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.

We got some additional information after the fact. First, the concussion spotters in Calgary relayed to the Flames' bench that they believed Wideman may have endured a concussive hit, and recommended that he be evaluated. Wideman refused this evaluation and remained on the ice for the rest of the game. Afterward, Wideman was diagnosed with a concussion.

No shit.

I don't really understand the people who don't believe that Wideman was affected by a concussion when he made that inexplicable, unprovoked, out-of-character act. He doesn't have a history of overly aggressive play, and his behavior was not the behavior of someone who had his wits about him.

I've heard people say that they've never had a concussion, so they can't speak to the actual experience. That is, of course, incorrect. Have you ever been injured? Or nauseated, whether due to excessive drinking or stomach bug? Of course you have. And when you were, did you feel like dealing with people? No. You were rude and single-minded, and perhaps downright aggressive in trying to get wherever you needed to go (probably to the bathroom). When you're not feeling like yourself, especially when it's due to discomfort or pain (both of which are perfectly reasonable to assume Wideman was experiencing), you can be an asshole. I don't play hockey, but I can imagine that in a realm where you're used to checking people, checking another person when you're feeling crappy and trying to get to your bench as fast as possible seems like a reasonable possibility.

So, if Wideman were concussed, his actions make some sense. If he weren't concussed, he'd have to basically be a supervillain, which I don't think he is. As a result, I'm confident in saying that he was concussed during the incident.

With that as an established fact (for the purposes of this blog post), Wideman deserves a twenty-game suspension for his actions.

Whaaaaat?!?

That's right. Wideman had an opportunity to play by the rules, and he chose not to. When he refused to be examined for a concussion, he was accepting responsibility for anything that might've happened as a result of his concussion, namely, the hit he laid on a linesman.

"That's not fair," you say, hands on hips. "How is he supposed to have the wherewithal to make the decision to have himself checked for a concussion, especially if he himself has a concussion?" Well, go ahead and slide those hands off of your hips and turn them into thumbs-ups, because you're absolutely correct. Dennis Wideman, or any concussed player, can't be expected to make that call.

How fortunate, then, that the NHL pays people specifically to do this for them. The NHL provides two concussion spotters, one for each team, for every single game. Teams are allowed to provide their own spotters (and usually do), but there is always at least one person whose sole job is to take that responsibility away from the players.

Except, just kidding, the teams don't have to listen to spotters at all. As I mentioned above, Wideman refused to be evaluated for a concussion, and that was the end of his concussion "process" that night.

The Flames' trainer has the authority to pull a guy out of the game, and if the trainer has trouble with a player, it behooves him or her to inform the head coach, to ensure that players are protected from themselves.

I listen to The Hockey PDOCast regularly, and about a week ago they had Eric Young as a guest on the show. Young is a professional wrestler who said he's had multiple concussions, though he was careful to not mention any in particular. Among other parts of a very interesting interview, Young said that he thinks that, if given the choice between taking on the full risks of hockey in its current state and just passing on hockey, most players would choose to take on all the risks.

When I consider that information, and all that I know about hockey players from working at an ice rink, I know that if players can get away with staying in a game despite a concussion, they will, without a doubt, try to stay in the game. I have to believe that people who get paid to be in the NHL business know this as well. That means you have to take the choice away from them. Concussion spotters need to have some level of authority, as they do in the NFL.

But that's big picture stuff. Let's focus on the specifics of this incident.

The NHL suspended Dennis Wideman for 20 games as a result of the hit, and Gary Bettman upheld the suspension as the first level of the appeal process. The second level takes the question to an arbitrator, and we'll see what they think. But I think both sides have been arguing the wrong battle here.

The NHL's position is that Wideman was not experiencing concussion symptoms, and is thus responsible for his actions. Wideman says he was concussed, and thus not responsible for his actions.

Both of these positions are idiotic.

First, if Wideman was concussed, he's still responsible on some level for his actions. If he had robbed a 7-11 while concussed, he'd still be held responsible for the robbery. And as for the NHL's position, get serious. Clearly Wideman was concussed. The people who want to see Wideman fully punished argue that he had his full faculties, but I don't think that's necessary.

I think that you can suspend Wideman 20 games and say, "The player was given the opportunity to be evaluated for a possible concussion. When he refused, he indicated that he was not suffering a concussion, and had full command of his faculties. As a result, we have no choice but to defer to the player's own judgment in determining his culpability in this infraction."

The best source for Dennis Wideman's state of mind at the time is Wideman himself, in that moment. And at that moment, Wideman said he was not suffering from the effects of a concussion. Enter that into evidence.

Case closed.

Cam Newton's Post-Superbowl Press Conference

You're going to hate this post.

I don't even know who's going to read this post, but I'm positive that 99.9% of people who read it will feel differently from me, and that's okay. I just figured I'd give you a heads up before we really dive into it.

The Super Bowl was last night, with the Denver Broncos beating the Carolina Panthers by a score of 24-10. There are plenty of stories coming out of the game, from Peyton Manning's legacy to his specific mention of Budweiser in his postgame interview, as well as the obvious debriefing of the actual plays in the game. But one story that people seem to have latched onto as much as any is the tone of the postgame comments from Panthers quarterback Cam Newton.

The first I had heard of it (I didn't stay glued to the television for postgame garbage) was on Twitter, where I saw a 30-second clip of just the very end of Newton's discussion with the media. So, my initial exposure was that he answered one question with "No," then walked out.

The actual full discussion is here (NFL.com won't let me embed the video, apologies):

https://sports.yahoo.com/news/cam-newton-goes-from-superman-to-incredible-sulk-in-poor-postgame-showing-070021525.html

So, it's not quite as much of a blow-off as it had first seemed to me. He answers six or seven questions, though he's curt, and he mostly doesn't volunteer more than the most basic response to each question. He's obviously crushed, and he doesn't hide the fact that he's upset.

This isn't really new for Newton. All season he's been someone who wears his emotions on his sleeve. It just so happens that when you go 17-1, most of your emotions are positive, confident, and celebratory. After coming up short in the Super Bowl, it's understandable that he'd be crestfallen.

I don't think anyone is upset that he was upset. The sense I get is that people believe that Cam Newton should've...said more? Or had better posture? I mean, what exactly were people hoping for out of that interview? I've seen Twitter links to other quarterbacks who "do it right," and it's basically that they give longer answers that still don't really mean anything.

Let's look at one example.

Reporter (paraphrased): I know you've studied Denver, was there anything they did today that was different from what you saw coming in?

Newton (quote): "Nothing different."

So, what would the Twitter-verse have expected from a "correct" quarterback in this circumstance (using the same negative response)? A nice Robot QB would say something like, "I do not think they had a gameplan that surprised us. They just did a great job of executing it, and we could not counter it."

(If I learned anything from Star Trek: The Next Generation, it's that robots can't use contractions.)

Okay, sure, that's a little more pleasing to the ear. But does it matter? Unless you're a reporter hoping for quotable material from these postgame interviews to pad your word count, who gives a damn between the two answers? You feel better about the second one because someone's unhappiness isn't being shoved in your face. In Newton's actual response, his disappointment is palpable. He's devastated. He knows he has an obligation (whether official or moral) to meet with the media after the game, apparently in the same room as someone from the Broncos who's jubilantly getting interviewed nearby. So Newton shows up and answers a few questions when you know he probably just wants to go ten rounds with a punching bag, or spend an hour in the batting cages.

He's upset. That's okay.

Every year I watch the Capitals lose in the playoffs (except for year 2 with Oates, which mercifully ended early). Every year they interview the players afterward, and their responses fall somewhere in between Cam Newton's and Robot QB. They're disappointed, they don't offer long responses, and as a fan, I appreciate that they're sad and pissed off and emotional. So am I, dammit.

I don't need to hear my team's players offer platitudes about effort or luck or next year. I don't want to hear that. What we all want out of being sports fans is to have a connection, to our city, to our fellow fans, and to the players. When Alex Ovechkin sits in stunned, motionless silence after the Caps lose a series, it's like looking in a mirror (except Ovie has less fat and fewer teeth). When I hurt, it's some small comfort to know that they hurt too. That this connection I seek isn't totally in my head. That we're sort of, barely, a little bit in the same boat.

The only things that really matter are the actions people take. If Cam Newton became an actual villain and stopped giving his time and money to those less fortunate, then sure, get mad. But my guess is that Newton will be the same generous man he's been all along.

My favorite Capitals story ever is from 2010, after maybe the worst series in Capitals' history. They were the number one overall seed, and had gone up three games to one against the Montreal Canadiens in the first round. If you've followed the Caps at all, you know where this story goes next. The Caps lost three straight games, being eliminated in the first round during a year with incredible hope.

Among the players on that team (and still on the team today) was Brooks Laich. Laich was an assistant captain, but he declined to speak with reporters after the game. You can decide for yourself if you would prefer Newton's style of press conference or no press conference at all.

That evening, a woman and her daughter got a flat tire driving home from the game. They were waiting for AAA when an SUV pulled over and the driver got out to help them put the spare tire on. That driver was Brooks Laich. Worst loss of his career, a defeat rough enough that he didn't want to talk to reporters, but when someone needed a hand, Laich was there. Actions are what matter.

Words are wind. It doesn't bother me that Cam decided to spare us some hot air.

Brian Giles Deserved Better

First things first, I don't think Brian Giles is a Hall of Famer. I don't think you'd find many people who think he is. He was a really good player for about ten years on a couple of obscure teams, and he was a fantasy STUD in the old Sandbox system that rewarded players for drawing walks. He wasn't an all-time great, which is the designation that someone should have if they're getting named to the Hall of Fame.

That said, Giles was way better than Hall voters apparently think he was.

Earlier this week, the 2015 Baseball Hall of Fame ballot results were revealed, and Brian Giles received a whopping zero votes. Among the players who received at least one vote:

• Tom Gordon, whose claim to fame is having led the league in saves once, and being a pretty good reliever sometimes;
• Troy Percival, a solid closer who pitched for the champion Angels in 2002; and
• Aaron Boone, a career .263 hitter who had that one big home run.

I would say that these guys don't sound like Giles' peers, but they're not even; they're all considered deserving of a vote by at least one Hall of Fame voter, and Giles was not.

I will grant certain factors. Giles' power peak only lasted about five years, and he played in an era with inflated power numbers across the board, so his career-high of 39 home runs doesn't play as well as it might in today's game. And he wasn't particularly fast either, notching only 109 steals over a career that spanned more than 1,800 games.

But Giles was a consistent force at the plate. In eight different seasons, his on-base percentage was .396 or higher; Giles ended two out of every five plate appearances with a positive result. His career on-base percentage is .3998, lower than only four players: Joey Votto, Manny Ramirez, Albert Pujols, and Joe Mauer. Those are two likely Hall of Fame caliber players (Manny and Pujols), and two guys who should find themselves at least in the conversation if their next eight years go like their last eight years went. He consistently threatened .300, hitting at least .298 in seven different seasons.

He played in Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and San Diego, so his media exposure was limited, as were his postseason opportunities. And the numbers suggest he was a below-average fielder. But in a world where you just know, you just know that Kevin Youkilis is going to get a couple of HoF votes, Giles deserved better than he got.

What the Hell Happened to Baseball Reference?

I was a Baseball Reference advocate. No, more than that. I was a Baseball Reference ambassador. I loved their site. I loved the basic and complex statistics they offered. I loved the site's simplicity; it wasn't bogged down with videos or advertisements or video advertisements (I'm looking at you, Yahoo/ESPN/CBS/basically all other sports websites). It was my go-to site for looking up stats, coming up with trivia (I'm a huge nerd), doing research for blog posts and radio shows, everything. It was (and for now, still is) the site that I linked to when I wrote blog posts.

Recently, however, the site has torpedoed. It still offers the same statistics as before, as well as even more advanced metrics and bonus content like HOF predictors, ELO ratings, and more. But they've added three prominent ads to almost every non-home page: one big video ad in the middle, and two sometimes flash animation and sometimes regular banner ads on the sides.

They. Are. Awful.

When I was writing my recent post on Bret Saberhagen, I (as usual) wanted to link to any relevant pages in my article. That mostly includes direct player links, and they linked to the player's associated page on www.baseball-reference.com. Simple enough, right? Well, no. Any time I opened more than one tab from Baseball Reference, the concurrent advertisement streams sent my Firefox into a tizzy. I opened Internet Explorer to test if it was just my browser, but encountered the same bogged down results.

This is a computer on which I've simultaneously run Skyrim and Just Cause 2, in case you were wondering if it might be a hardware issue. I would think opening a couple browser windows wouldn't make my machine fart out its brains.

I sent an email reporting this experience to the webmasters of the site, without any response. And I guess I don't necessarily need any sort of response...except that a site can't exist if people don't go there. Or it can (as this blog has proven time and time again), but it becomes irrelevant and loses any value, intrinsic or financial. I don't know how much traffic I drive to Baseball Reference, but I know it's more than zero. And I'm open to making another contribution to their cause (Joe and Joe Sports at one point sponsored a couple of pages on basketball-reference.com). I'm always open to supporting people who make a great product.

But baseball-reference.com, in its current form, is not a great product. It's, inexplicably, a product that used to be great, but managed to manage its way out of greatness.

I've browsed the site, and I've found a subscription option for $20 that gives you an ad-free experience, which would be great if I didn't write a blog. I'm posting links here to pages that I'm encouraging people to click. I'm having conscience issues when I think about nudging my readers into that miserable browsing experience.

A little more recently, I posted an article comparing the Orioles and Royals player-by-player, and I still used links to baseball-reference.com. I'm reticent to give up on them. They've been such a tremendous resource for me for so long that I want to believe that it'll get better. But it's been really, really bad for a couple weeks now. I'm not sure what to do.

So, I invite you to help me out. I've already sent a message explaining my experience, but if you've noticed the same, or if you listened to me rant and tested it out to see what I'm talking about, I'd ask you to let the site know about it. Their feedback form is here.

My hope would be that we can help this site find a different way to monetize that isn't so destructive for people trying to use the site. I'd be happy to shell out some money to that end, but only if I'm referring people to the great Baseball Reference of old.

The new one isn't worth it.

Sigh...Ray Rice

I hate football.

Let me be clear, I don't actually hate football. Like, you don't hate the customer who always has a bunch of questions and needs help with everything and makes you run all over the place. You just hate how they take over your day whenever they show up. Well, that's what I hate about football. Whenever a notable football story pops up, it's all you hear or read about for a day and a half. That's the price of doing business if you're a sports fan in the United States, but it's still frustrating and I hate it.

I had kind of hoped that I'd get through the Ray Rice situation without feeling compelled to write a blog about it. And now I'm writing about it for a second time. Screw you, football.

My first post (which I'm sure seems totally misogynistic and narrow-minded now) talked about how we didn't have enough information to really make a thunderous decision against Ray Rice. There was a good deal of outcry insisting that the two-game suspension fell short of an appropriate punishment, and obviously at this point, that seems to be correct. Having finally seen footage of the moment in question, Rice clearly assaults his then-fiancee (now wife), and while it may not have been his swing that knocked her out, it was his swing that caused her head to slam against the railing, which almost certainly did knock her out. So in this circumstance, I will admit that I took a position that was incorrect, and was based on limited information.

My bad.

It saddens me that all of this happened, though. It's just...I don't know, it's just sad. There's clearly some larger issue going on with Ray and Janay Rice, and I feel like the fact that the national media is trying to pierce this story is only further complicating and exacerbating the situation. Maybe they need counseling, maybe they need to split up, maybe they're fine and they're comfortable with their relationship. But I don't hear anybody trying to find out if Janay Rice is okay, or trying to pivot this incident into positive movements towards a safer world for all victims of abuse. And I don't see how the NFL and the Ravens turning their backs on Ray Rice helps anybody.

I'm disappointed with the Ravens in particular. The NFL has always been a PR machine, and the public demanded that Ray Rice suffer massive consequences for the video that depicted his chilling attack. So be it, suspend him indefinitely. But clearly Ray Rice isn't right. A guy who's got it all together doesn't hit people, whether his girlfriend or a waiter or a stranger. Hell, even most people who don't have it all together don't hit people. Rice is in a position of need here, and the Ravens had the opportunity to say, "We hate what Ray Rice has done, and we fully support the NFL's decision to suspend him indefinitely. But we acknowledge that Ray is a human being, and he's a part of our community, and this is a time for us to help Ray to not be the person in that video ever again."

Where's the football camaraderie that I hear so much about? What happened to sticking by your teammates through thick and thin? The NFL's PR problem goes away with Rice's termination and suspension, but Rice's problems get even bigger. He's lost his livelihood (understandably), but nobody's life is made better by everyone casting him out.

My last point here is kind of hard to articulate, but I'm going to give it a shot. The involvement of so many "regular people" in this story feels icky. Not like they're named in the story, I mean that the "public" has spidered into celebrities' lives through web forums, chat rooms, Reddit, comments sections, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and a hundred other forms of social media and digital interactions. It's got the same kind of vibe as the whole nude photo hacking from a week or two ago. We (the internet public at large) are sticking our noses way deeper than they belong, and we're acting entitled about it. I can't tell you how many people I read/heard say, "Well, I mean, Kate Upton shouldn't have taken those pictures on her phone," or "Jennifer Lawrence has to know that once an image is on the cloud, a hacker can get at it." Similarly, there are countless comments on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram of people saying they can't understand why Janay Rice would stay with Ray, or demanding a first-hand account of the evening, or any of a thousand other presumptive statements.

We've got to stop.

We've got to stop assuming that because we know someone's name and what they do for a living, we're entitled to make judgments on them, or demand transparency from them. Professional athletes, actresses, singers, they do all have something in common with the rest of us: they're human. They have emotions, and they make decisions not solely based on the possibility of them getting caught, but because they feel things and think things and want things. Jennifer Lawrence is far from the first or last girl to take a sensual picture of herself. She'll be a target of hackers and jealous investigators for a long time, and that comes with the territory. But she shouldn't be chastised for having had her private information stolen. Janay Rice shouldn't be interrogated by fifty thousand strangers via Twitter. Victims of crimes are victims of crimes, and while we may be interested in the sordid details, we are by no means entitled to them.

Let's do our best to respect the humanity of those who are hurt, even if they were in The Hunger Games.

More Barbarism In Sports

Baseball is becoming hockey.

On Saturday night, the Arizona Diamondbacks hosted the Pittsburgh Pirates. The Diamondbacks' season is all but over; they're 14 games under .500 and are third-to-last in the National League standings. The Pirates, meanwhile, have plenty to play for. They're a half game behind the Cardinals for the final wild card spot, and just 1.5 games behind the Brewers for the NL Central Division lead.

But because of a non-issue the previous night, Saturday night was apparently going to be alright for fighting.

Friday night, after the Pirates exploded for eight runs in the final two innings, Ernesto Frieri came in for mop up duty in the bottom of the ninth, leading 9-4. An inside pitch against Paul Goldschmidt got away from him, and hit Goldschmidt on the hand. It was a non-issue that night, because it was just something that happens in baseball.

Saturday afternoon, we learned that Goldschmidt had a broken hand, and would likely miss the rest of the season. A season, as I mentioned, that was already ruined by the way the Diamondbacks play every day. That's the only thing that changed between the end of the game Friday night and the beginning of the game Saturday night. But apparently, manager Kirk Gibson decided that it was enough to warrant a bit of headhunting.

Early in the game, it looked like maybe everyone was going to act like grown-ups and let it slide. It was an unintentional hit batter, and with the Pirates in playoff contention, every game matters. But as the game got out of hand, maybe we all should've known Arizona was going to snake out and bean someone ("snake out" is a new term I just made up; similar to "rat out" meaning act like a rat, "snake out" means to act like a snake).

With Pittsburgh up 5-1 in the ninth inning, Andrew McCutchen dug in against Randall Delgado. He dodged the first pitch which sailed in on him, then watched another ball go low and away. Apparently the threat wasn't enough for Gibson, as the third pitch was aimed directly at McCutchen's midsection. He twisted away, getting beaned in the dead center of his back. Delgado was tossed, heated words were exchanged, and McCutchen, to his credit, didn't escalate the situation, just slamming his bat and taking his base. But nobody would've faulted McCutchen for charging the mound. It was a gutless pitch, a pitch that had no intent other than to cause pain to McCutchen.

I have no problem with coming to your teammate's aid when you can intervene with direct damage being inflicted. I do have a problem with beanballs. I do have a problem with most circumstances of fighting in hockey. And this felt like hockey thuggery. Late in non-competitive games, hockey teams sometimes pick fights to "send a message" that they're...well I don't know what the message is. I guess that, when they're getting outclassed on the ice, they'll resort to trying to bully the other team around.

That's what this felt like from the Diamondbacks. "Well, we were hoping to just beat you on the field, but since we were getting creamed late in the game, instead we'll just try to hurt you." I have no patience for this crap. Even the thought that this was "retaliation" was ridiculous. Sometimes guys get hit by pitches (just ask Craig Biggio). Goldschmidt got hit in the course of regular baseball. It happens. Nobody retaliates when a basketball player twists his ankle landing on someone else's foot. Because that would be absurd.

Bud Selig hasn't shied away from baseball history at all. He instituted PED testing, he added the wild card teams (and then more wild card teams). He added World Series home-field advantage to the All-Star Game. He has the chance here to set an example for what baseball is going to be like going forward. Suspend Delgado and Gibson each for a month. Baseball already involves a person throwing baseballs 95 miles an hour to a spot within a few feet of another person's face. Making it any more dangerous than that by allowing egos and thoughts of vengeance to get involved is irresponsible.

And don't get me started on hockey fights.

The Baseball Hall of Fame's Quiet War Against Barry Bonds

While the NFL was commanding the majority of controversial headlines with the Ray Rice suspension story, and while we baseball fans were all celebrating the greatness of several worthwhile inductees into the Hall of Fame, the Baseball Hall of Fame quietly released news that will have a thunderous impact on the future of the Hall.

Recently eligible and future players will now have 10 years of eligibility on the ballot, instead of the previous 15 years.

In a vacuum, I would support this change. ESPN posted a list of players elected in their 11th through 15th years of eligibility, and while they're all fine players, none is a guy who the Hall can't do without: Ralph Kiner, Bob Lemon, Duke Snider, Bruce Sutter, Jim Rice, and Bert Blyleven. In general, I would expect a true Hall of Fame player to be elected in their first couple of years of eligiblity.

So what's the problem? Well, true Hall of Fame players aren't being elected in their first couple of years of eligibility. Barry Bonds is literally the best player ever; alright, maybe not, but the list of guys who were better than him is shorter than ten. And he's unarguably one of the great players of his generation. Those guys get in.

But he's not the only one. Roger Clemens's career and season-by-season numbers are insane. He ranks third all time in strikeouts, ninth all time in wins, and first all time in career Cy Young awards (he won it seven different times). His all-time Wins Above Replacement is 140.3, good enough for eighth in the history of baseball. The number of pitchers he's behind is exactly two: Walter Johnson, and the guy whose award he kept winning, Cy Young.

I think personally that Mark McGwire belongs in the Hall of Fame too, but I'm not going to be able to explain why in a blurb here. Maybe that'll be an article down the line.

In 2014, Clemens and Bonds respectively received 35.4% and 34.7% of the vote, both small declines from the previous year.

The important point here is that these are legends of the game that now have five fewer years to have their infractions forgotten, their opponents' stances softened. Neither player was ever suspended for PEDs during their playing careers, most of which spanned the period during which baseball couldn't give a flying f- whether or not its players were juicing. But in the court of public opinion, they're currently serving a sentence of as-yet-undetermined length. Those five additional years would extend the window of time during which players like Bonds and Clemens could engage fans, speak with the media, and redevelop (or in Bonds' case develop for the first time) goodwill with the public at large. On a shortened timeline, it's unclear whether they'll get that chance.

Of course, when specifically asked, the Hall of Fame said that PEDs had no impact on the decision to shorten the gap. Their timing is conspicuous in its proximity to the beginning of "steroid era" players becoming eligible. But even if the decision isn't related, its impact is profound. I was always of a mind that, eventually, baseball writers would get over their faux outrage and acknowledge the greatness that we saw. But pride is a real thing, and that process takes time.

For Bonds and Clemens, the clock is ticking.

Talking Tim Tebow - Part 2

So apparently you guys like talking about Tim Tebow. My post on Thursday had the biggest first-day traffic of any post we've ever had here on Joe and Joe Sports. So, like any good butcher, I'm here to slaughter the goose who laid the golden egg. That is, post the second and final part of this series.

My discussions with friends and colleagues regarding Tim Tebow were surprisingly similar. I expected to get a wide variety of responses, but the general sentiment of most everyone I spoke to was pretty much the same:

Tim Tebow isn't good enough at playing quarterback to be in the NFL.

Their analyses were somewhat different, though. A few people indicated that Tebow's apparent unwillingness to play another position besides quarterback is what's keeping him from being on an NFL roster, but with two different opinions on that. Some saw him as a guy who could definitely help a team at tight end or fullback, and saw Tebow's stubbornness as a result of ego.

One person who had a different insight, though, was the other Joe. He said he doesn't really fault Tebow for wanting to win or lose as a quarterback. First, the punishment you take as a tight end or H/flex back is definitely going to be more severe than that you'd take as a quarterback (even on a team with a crummy offensive line). Additionally, and this might be the most interesting part, Joe suggested that the insistence on playing quarterback might be a branding decision. Tim Tebow as a quarterback, even a failed quarterback, is likely much more interesting than Tim Tebow the tight end. And obviously, Tebow can commentate college football for ESPN and make plenty of money right now (since, you know, he's doing exactly that). So going back to the NFL to try to scrape by as a running back might not be his cup of tea.

Almost everyone I talked to had a fairly high regard for Tim Tebow the human being. He seems to be driven and moral, and we all agreed that it would take a uniquely challenging circumstance for Tebow to be a problem in the locker room; much more likely he'd be an asset to a team in that regard.

After taking all this information, and kicking around a few ideas in my head, I've come up with what I believe is the one thing keeping Tebow from being on an NFL roster: its size. Roster spaces are at a premium in the NFL. Your backup quarterback(s) have to be able to, at least theoretically, step in and run the same offense as your starting quarterback. We can all agree that Tebow's quarterbacking skills aren't going to align with just about any quarterback in the league. He hasn't got a quick release or a tight spiral, and he hasn't got much of a deep ball. So, any system you put him into, he's going to be a suboptimal option.

You could keep him on your roster listed as a TE or RB, and just run tricks and gimmicks with him, either on his own or with another quarterback on the field. The Steelers did it for years with Kordell Stewart and Neil O'Donnell, two players with vastly different skills. The problem is, Tebow isn't as good a conventional quarterback as Stewart was (and Steelers fans will appreciate how weak a quarterback that means Tebow is). So Tebow can't be your #1 backup at quarterback. But he also can't be your #2 backup, because either A) your #2 backup is a youngster you're grooming, or B) you've elected to forgo a third quarterback in order to keep another LB/OT/CB.

If NFL rosters were unlimited, or went up seven spots to 60 total players, bringing on a utility knife like Tebow would make a lot of sense. He can produce as a goal-line or 2-point conversion quarterback, and gimmick plays will always have a place in the NFL. But as a quarterback, you can't bring him in. He doesn't do quarterback well enough to warrant that spot.

In a dream world where NFL rosters were expanded, though, I maintain that Tebow would be a useful backup for my hometown phenom Robert Griffin III. While he doesn't do anything as well as Griffin, Tebow brings some of that same dynamic run/pass ability to the game. And, I think the 'Skins could use a little Jesus in that locker room.

Not saying that Tebow is Jesus. Just saying he knows the guy.

The Ray Rice Situation

There's been a lot of clamor and outrage resulting from the NFL's recent two-game suspension of Ray Rice. Initially, I felt pretty much the same as other people; two games seemed awfully lean for a guy who butchered his girlfriend in cold blood.

Of course, that's not what happened. We don't know what happened. We know what we know, which is that Rice and his fiancee (Janay Palmer) were arrested and charged with simple assault. Then, the charges against his girlfriend (now wife) were dropped, and the charge against Rice got switched to third-degree aggravated assault. Rice eventually avoided jail time by entering a program for first-time offenders, which I don't know what that means and is probably rich-person-talk for "They were rich so they didn't really have to pay for their criminal activities."

Maybe that's not fair to Rice, but since the judicial system was more than fair to him, I'm okay leaning the other way.

Back to the suspension, I think two games is about what you can do. The law basically let him off the hook, which means sportswriters are expecting the NFL to hold their players to a higher standard than a United States court of law. That might not be fair.

Another thing to consider is that Ray Rice is protected by the NFL Players Association. There's simply no way that they wouldn't get involved in this situation; this situation is precisely the reason that the NFLPA keeps lawyers on retainer. My guess is, the NFLPA met with the commissioner's office, and they found a number that the NFLPA wouldn't appeal, because the NFLPA doesn't want to deal with the PR disaster of trying to protect a "wife-beater." By the way, we have exactly one incident that we know of that involves Ray Rice getting physical with a woman. I'm not saying it's impossible that this was indicative of his overall behavior; I'm just saying we don't know.

And that's what it mostly comes down to. We only know what we know, and what we know is pretty flimsy. I wonder if there would have been similar outcry if the NFL went the other way and gave Rice a one- or two-year ban. My guess is he'd have been forgotten in a few days, except in Baltimore, where Ravens fans would decry the league for ruining their team, until some new young running back showed promise. At which point, everyone would forget about Rice, until he slinked back into the league, signing with the Cowboys for the league minimum.

We find it so gratifying to act as judge, jury, and executioner on all these high profile cases involving superstar athletes or other celebrities. We hold them to incredible standards, and when they fail those standards, we crucify them. Maybe the two-game suspension was a little light. Or maybe it was the kind of measured response that sports fans just can't stomach.

Talking Tim Tebow - Part 1

Those of you who've talked football with me probably know I'm a Tim Tebow fan. However, I'm different from a lot of Tebow fans in that I didn't like him at all coming out of college. When Denver selected him in the first round of the 2010 draft, I thought it was perhaps the most insane draft selection ever, literally ever. And in limited time in the 2010 season, Tebow showed little to suggest he'd be anything better than a gimmicky backup who could run a little and throw even less.

And the reality is, maybe that's as much as he could have ever been. But in 2011 a confluence of events (Kyle Orton's ineptitude, public pressure, and the general approach by a coach that if something isn't working, you should change it) gave Tebow a chance to start in the NFL. While posting abysmal completion percentages and unimpressive passing yardage, Tebow helped push the Broncos to 8-8, which was good enough to win a sorry ass AFC West.

We all remember the playoffs that year. The game against the Steelers, Tebow's early TD pass to Eddie Royal, his rushing touchdown a few minutes later. The 80-yard pass to Demaryius Thomas (which was really a 14-yard pass that Thomas shook into a TD). And then going into New England and getting completely and utterly dismantled. That was the last game Tim Tebow ever started at quarterback.

I don't know the numbers, but I have to think that the number of guys who won a game in the playoffs one year and then never got another start at quarterback has to be pretty short.
 
He moved on to the Jets that offseason, after the Broncos decided to go for broke with Peyton Manning, a move that seems to have paid off for Denver. But for Tebow, the Jets were a miserable place to go. According to Football Reference he started two games, but neither one was at quarterback. Presumably he was listed as a starter at fullback for those games. But there's no denying that he was given roughly zero chance in New York to prove he was capable of being a quarterback in the NFL, starting or otherwise. He touched the ball 42 times (10 dropbacks, 32 rushing attempts).

And then what? A preseason with the Patriots in which Tom Brady said he enjoyed having Tebow around, but Bill Belichick chose to keep only 2 quarterbacks on the active roster. Then, nothing.

How? How is it possible that this player, a proven winner in college, a sporadically productive player in the NFL, and an obvious athlete, can't get a gig?

I'm going to ask around. I'm going to do some research. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. And I'll update you guys in what I'm tentatively calling "Part 2."

Baseball's Suspension Rampage

The more I'm reading about the complex situation regarding Biogenesis and the several players who may or may not be suspended as a result of the information obtained from the clinic, the more nauseous I'm getting.

Baseball is obviously very concerned with their checkered history when it comes to drug suspensions. Even before the sport tested for steroids, Steve Howe was famously suspended seven different times for drug use. His usage was not "performance-enchancing" though; he fought a battle with alcohol and cocaine abuse, substances that we know absolutely do irreparable and dramatic damage to your body. Baseball found its way to forgive Howe seven different times, but it now appears resolved to forgive Alex Rodriguez roughly zero times.

Alex Rodriguez was discovered to have been using steroids during the 2003 season, the first season that baseball tested for steroids, during a "survey" season in which players' tests would remain anonymous, and whose results would be used to determine whether or not mandatory steroid testing would ensue. That season, 104 different players tested positive for steroid use. Of those 104, I can find news of seven actual names that have been confirmed: Rodriguez, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, Sammy Sosa, David Segui, Larry Bigbie, and Jason Grimsley. None of those players were suspended/fined/had a finger wagged at them for those test results, presumably because A) they were supposed to remain confidential forever, and B) baseball didn't have a true anti-steroids policy at the time.

But there's something in that list that should give you pause. Look at it again. I'll wait.

Did you find it? It's Manny Ramirez. Manny tested positive in 2009, was banned for 50 games, and returned. Then he tested positive again in 2011, was banned for 100 games, and chose to retire rather than face the suspension. Eventually he decided he wanted to return to baseball, and was able to negotiate the second suspension down to 50 games. He's played in the minor leagues a bit, and likely won't return to major league action ever again, not as a result of discipline for substance abuse, but simply because he's 41 years old and can't really hit anymore.

So here's the information we have:

Manny Ramirez
Tested positive in 2003
Tested positive again in 2009, suspended 50 games
Tested positive again in 2011, suspended 100 games (later reduced)

Alex Rodriguez
Tested positive in 2003

Found to have been receiving illegal treatments from a clinic
Potential lifetime ban

What in the ever-loving shit is going on here?

The evidence suggests that Rodriguez should be treated the same as Ramirez, but that's not what's happening. A-Rod is getting railroaded because he's not well-liked, and because baseball really doesn't want him to hit enough home runs to bypass their precious records. It says something when baseball would rather let Barry Bonds hold onto a record than risk letting you overtake him.

But it's all garbage. Baseball is trying to do something that U.S. law prohibits, which is to punish Rodriguez for attempting to exercise his collectively bargained right to defend himself. From this article on Yahoo by Ronald Blum of the Associated Press:

Major League Baseball is threatening to kick A-Rod out of the game for life unless the New York star agrees not to fight a lengthy suspension for his role in the sport's latest drug scandal, according to a person familiar with the discussions...Whether Commissioner Bud Selig would actually issue a lifetime suspension was unclear and a permanent ban could be shortened by arbitrator Fredric Horowitz to about 200 games, the person said.

Now listen. Nobody really likes Alex Rodriguez. He's a Yankee, he's wealthy, and he's a cheater. That trifecta is going to net you an awful lot of disdain. But he's entitled to be treated the same as his peers. Major League Baseball set a precedent with Manny Ramirez. He was a big name player who'd had a prolific career and was still productive, he tested positive, and he was suspended for 50 games. You can't force Rodriguez to be suspended for four times as long just because you don't like the guy.

I've never had a vendetta for steroid users. A couple of steroid users pretty much saved baseball after the strike that cost us a World Series (and may have cost Montreal their baseball team). They're committing a crime, so I'm on board with them getting punished, but after you establish the punishments, you can't just change them willy-nilly. It destroys your credibility and creates uncertainty for players/owners/teams. But more than anything else, it's distasteful and vindictive. I hope that's not what 21st century baseball is about.

The American League MVP

So ends another awards season for Major League Baseball. And whether you were rooting for Hellickson or Hosmer, Halladay or Kershaw, Braun or Kemp, we can all agree that the award winners all had tremendous seasons, and each deserves accolades for their accomplishments.

That being said, neither Justin Verlander nor any other pitcher should ever win an MVP award.

(Yeah, it's gonna be one of those posts. Pull up a chair, get out your angry pencils, and let's do this.)

The fact that they're eligible for the award should not encourage baseball writers to cast their votes for pitchers. A change in the eligibility will never happen, because baseball prefers ambiguity (see: strike zones). But writers need to take it upon themselves to make this one of those dozens of "unwritten rules" in baseball, because plain and simple, pitchers cannot be the league's most valuable player.

I'd imagine I've got at least half of you riled up at this point, thinking that I've got a lot of nerve. And maybe I do. But I've got my reasons.

First, there is some truth to the thinking that pitchers have their award, and hitters only have the MVP award. The Cy Young Award and the Most Valuable Player Award each have long histories that we can look back at and remember some of the great seasons we saw. In 1999, baseball created the Hank Aaron Award, to be awarded to the best hitter in each league. In fact, the award was likely created specifically to allow for the possibility of a pitcher being worthy of an MVP award. You know when you started hearing about the Hank Aaron Award even existing? This year, when people wanted to justify voting for Verlander for MVP. Hank Aaron was a tremendous hitter, but the award is essentially meaningless if nobody knows who's winning them.

Additionally, the Hank Aaron Award incorporates a fan vote component, which makes the award intrinsically flawed. Fans are stupid. Unsurprisingly, the AL award has gone to AL East hitters every year since 2004. And by the way, Hank Aaron spent all of two seasons playing in the American League, hitting .232 with 22 HR and 95 RBI in 222 games. If you're going to perpetuate this farce, you should at least have another name for it in the American League. Babe Ruth, anyone?

But I think the greater argument here is that, quite simply, a pitcher can't come close to the overall impact of a position player, and that includes starting pitchers as well as relievers.

First, let's address the one stat that gets cited often to compare pitchers to hitters: wins above replacement (WAR). The theory behind the statistic is that, over the course of a season, by playing well (or poorly), a player at any position gives his team an adjusted chance at victory when compared to a potential replacement player. The statistic uses a theoretical AAA player as the replacement. The concept of trying to value hitters against pitchers is useful for GMs in salary-planning, and for those MVP votes in which a pitcher earns consideration.

Two issues, though. First, the use of a single statistic to determine value between a starting pitcher and a hitter is always going to have flaws, simply because the roles are so incredibly different. Second, it's apparent that baseball writers are not acknowledging WAR as a make-or-break statistic with regards to MVP votes. Matt Kemp posted a WAR of 10.0 in 2011, the highest since Barry Bonds in 2004. That span includes three different MVP seasons by Albert Pujols. I'm willing to cede that the actual NL MVP, Ryan Braun, has his own viable portfolio, but you'd think that, if we're referring to WAR at all, a guy who has a WAR that's 30% higher than the next closest player would be a shoo-in for the MVP.

(As a reference, Verlander posted an 8.6 WAR; Jose Bautista posted an 8.5.)

We're all quick to admit that wins are one of the most of the most team-dependent statistics on the planet. But if Verlander had, say, 20 wins, rather than his major-league best 24, would this have even been close? (If you're unsure, look at Cliff Lee's 22-3 2008 season, and the fact that he finished 12th in the MVP voting after a season with a similar lack of a front-runner. Or look over at the NL, where Clayton Kershaw posted very similar numbers to Verlander this season, yet also finished 12th in his league's MVP voting). You're wondering if Detroit was that good? They rated third in the majors in batting average, fourth in runs, fourth in on-base, fourth in slugging. They could put up runs with anybody.

So maybe Verlander gets an anecdotal bump in his resume as a result of his no-hitter in early May; it certainly put Verlander front and center. The relative difference in the impact of an everyday player versus a starting pitcher is similarly anecdotal. Obviously starting pitchers have impacts beyond their innings (saving the bullpen, etc). And obviously hitters have impacts beyond their own at-bats (base-running, "protection" for other hitters, etc.). But I think we've got one more piece of the puzzle that pushes starting pitchers out of the discussion: weather.

If there's a rainout, or even more so if a game is postponed, a starting pitcher's rhythm is off, and he likely doesn't come back in the subsequent game. We saw it in the playoffs this year; weather pushed both Verlander and CC Sabathia out of Game 1 after 1.5 IP and limited them each to one full start in a five-game series. Meanwhile, in the same series, Robinson Cano hit .318 and drove in 9 runs, and Delmon Young hit .316 with three home runs. The fact that an act of nature can almost completely negate the potential positive contributions by a starting pitcher for a game, and the fact that they only pitch in 35 games every year, is the last piece of evidence I need.

In the end, I think that a Most Valuable Player in baseball should be the epitome of a baseball player. To me, baseball is defined by the 162 game season, by far the longest in American team sports. It's a grind, and a guy who's able to get up ~150 times and compete at a tremendous level, that's the guy who's the best baseball player. A guy who has to perform 35 times a year, no matter how impressive he is during those 35 times, just doesn't capture the essence of baseball.

The Penn State Sexual Abuse Scandal

I'm probably going to piss off a lot of people with this post, and alienate other people, and maybe get through to a couple as well. But I'm too upset with what I hear from too many people to not talk about this.

By now, most people know the testimony. Former Penn State defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky is accused of molesting eight different young boys over a 15-year period. Head coach Joe Paterno comes into the picture in 2002, when graduate assistant Mike McQueary observed Sandusky doing something to a young boy in a locker room shower (his grand jury testimony says sodomy, the testimony by Penn State higher-ups says McQueary reported a more vague level of fondling or other sexual contact; either way, up to no good). McQueary spoke to his father, who told him to speak to Paterno, and things went up the ladder, where a decision was made to bar Sandusky from bringing children to the campus.

How many people here are morally culpable? Probably everyone. But there's an order to things, and Paterno is not at the top of the list. How would I sort the villainy? Well, starting here:

Sandusky
Sandusky
Sandusky
Sandusky
Sandusky

Let's not lose sight of the actual situation. Jerry Sandusky is a sick and deplorable human being. He's far and away the villain here, since, you know, he was the guy who was actually raping children. Everyone else who's at fault (and there are plenty) would've never been put in a position to disappoint if Sandusky just wasn't a monster.

Mike McQueary

McQueary actually witnessed Sandusky in the act of committing one of these crimes, and what did he do? He called his dad and asked him what to do, then called Paterno the next day. McQueary was 28 at the time of the incident. He was a grown-ass man who saw another man raping a child, and did nothing. I can maybe understand being scared; it's an inconceivable thing to see, and in seeing it, you have to think that the perpetrator is capable of anything. So maybe you're too frightened to confront the guy alone. But come on. I'm sure other people were in the building; get a mob together if you're scared. And if nothing else, you call the cops.

The report said that both Sandusky and the victim made eye contact with McQueary at the time of the incident. So that kid saw an adult come across him being assaulted, and the adult walked away, and left him with his assailant. If we're making a list of things that will do severe psychological damage to a child, that's got to be on that list somewhere.

University President Graham Spanier
University Vice President Gary Schultz
Athletic Director Tim Curley

Curley was the person to whom Paterno reported what he heard from McQueary. Curley, along with Schultz, are the two people held legally responsible for their failure to report this incident to law enforcement authorities. They also both face perjury charges for what is believed to be dishonest or incomplete testimony to the grand jury.

Additionally, some combination of these three individuals came up with the response plan for Sandusky's assault, which was to take away his locker room keys and ban him from bringing children onto campus. ESPN's Jay Bilas addressed the toothlessness of this "punishment" perfectly by interpreting the message from Spanier as essentially saying, "Just don't do it here." It indicates an utter disregard for morality, and a complete focus on preserving university image. It's complicit, and disgusting.

Centre County District Attorney Ray Gricar

This excerpt is from an ESPN article available here:

Victim 6 is taken into the locker rooms and showers when he is 11 years old. When Victim 6 is dropped off at home, his hair is wet from showering with Sandusky. His mother reports the incident to the university police, who investigate.

Detective Ronald Schreffler testifies that he and State College Police Department Detective Ralph Ralston, with the consent of the mother of Victim 6, eavesdrop on two conversations the mother of Victim 6 has with Sandusky. Sandusky says he has showered with other boys and Victim 6's mother tries to make Sandusky promise never to shower with a boy again but he will not. At the end of the second conversation, after Sandusky is told he cannot see Victim 6 anymore, Schreffler testifies Sandusky says, "I understand. I was wrong. I wish I could get forgiveness. I know I won't get it from you. I wish I were dead."

Jerry Lauro, an investigator with the Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare, testifies he and Schreffler interviewed Sandusky, and that Sandusky admits showering naked with Victim 6, admits to hugging Victim 6 while in the shower and admits that it was wrong.

The case is closed after then-Centre County District Attorney Ray Gricar decides there will be no criminal charge.

Nice work, counselor. Way to serve and protect.

Head Coach Joe Paterno

Paterno is the face of Penn State, and there's no denying that this happened on his watch. There's also no denying that Paterno was aware of something involving Sandusky; he has admitted as much, and said that he wishes he had done more, in hindsight.

We don't know what Paterno really knew. We know his testimony indicated that he was aware of an incident occurring between Sandusky and a child, and others' testimony corroborates that. We also know that he didn't hear about the incident from McQueary until the day after the event, and he was undoubtedly aware that McQueary apparently didn't think enough of the incident to contact the police at all. What we know now about Sandusky's continued harassment makes the choice obvious, but given the limited information regarding this one incident, and the question marks about the words McQueary actually used to describe the incident, and the fact that Paterno had known Sandusky for thirty-odd years, it's not cut and dry.

Consider your own job. Imagine a subordinate (we're talking about your job, because I have no subordinates to imagine) reported to you that another employee was engaged in a sexually inappropriate act with a child. Your main responsibility is to put that subordinate in touch with the appropriate person at your organization, or if you are the appropriate person, to get in touch with the authorities. After connecting the relevant parties, it's not your business anymore.

Paterno got Curley involved. Curley conducted his investigation (however much of a sham it might have been), came to his conclusions (however blind), and implemented his resolution (however insufficient). We don't know what Paterno was told about this process. It's not inconceivable that he was lied to by Curley and Schultz about the investigation, since those two are already suspected of lying to the grand jury.

Jemele Hill wrote a piece for ESPN (applauding Penn State for firing Paterno) that includes the following paragraph:

"For those who continue to cling to the notion that because Paterno fulfilled his legal obligation, he should be allowed to finish this season on his own terms, I pose this question: If that 10-year-old in the showers with Sandusky was your brother, cousin, nephew, friend or neighbor, would you be satisfied with how Paterno handled the situation?"

First, I think we can all agree that if it was your brother, you would want Penn State University brought to the ground. Not metaphorically; literally leveled with dynamite and wrecking balls. And you wouldn't care who was inside. You would just want someone to pay, and the more people who pay, the better. So let's try to appreciate that adding that level of emotion isn't going to result in reasoned discourse.

Second, flip the switch. What if Sandusky was your brother? Your cousin? Your friend? Wouldn't you look for ways, consciously or subconsciously, to convince yourself that the worst isn't true? Wouldn't you want to get your hands off the situation and put it in the hands of people whose responsibility it was to handle these kinds of situations?

American media, particularly sports media, tends to try to look at everything in a vacuum. One of my favorite shows, PTI, consistently asks un-nuanced all-or-nothing questions of its hosts. And maybe the best part of PTI is that Michael Wilbon and especially Tony Kornheiser offer decidedly measured and broad-scope responses to these questions. Taking the whole picture into account shouldn't be so rare.

But as I peruse through Facebook messages, and Twitter posts, and the comments attached to the various articles regarding this horrific story, I find very little in the way of thoughtful discussion. What's more troublesome is that I also haven't found much among those people who are paid to be insightful, like ESPN's Hall.

Another couple quotes from Hall's article:

"There have been 40 counts of felony sex abuse of minors levied against former Paterno assistant Jerry Sandusky, and though I am sickened by what Sandusky is accused of, our judicial system presumes his innocence until he is proved guilty.

But we're free to judge Paterno outside the constricts of the law. A lengthy indictment spells out what he did (or, more disturbing, what he failed to do) and what he knew."

"If Sandusky is proved guilty, he is obviously the worst monster in this sordid horror story. But it isn't a stretch to suggest that Paterno played the role of Dr. Frankenstein. He didn't create the monster, but if Sandusky is guilty, then Paterno is at least partially responsible for the tragedies of every one of the victims assaulted after that unidentified boy in the shower."

Throughout the article, Hall acknowledges that Sandusky's guilt is yet to be determined, and she consistently uses terms like "accused of" and "alleged." Paterno receives the benefit of no such doubt.

My last point here is in response to Hall's last point, and a point that is going to echo in the voice of every sportscaster on the planet, and I'm going to be angry about it every time. She declares that Penn State was courageous for ousting Joe Paterno. Her claim is that today's world sees football coaches as the "final authority" for high profile schools, and it's important that the Penn State board of trustees exercise their authority here.

My final response to that is my own post on a friend's comment on Facebook from last night:

"Everyone's mad. But Paterno leaving the school isn't going to make anyone less angry or hurt or disgusted or shocked. His departure is a front page story for a couple days, then PSU gets to shrink away while other tragedies (and other sports stories) overtake it, and the general public will forget and move on. But a lot of good people who rely on Penn State football for a thousand different reasons are going to suffer. What Sandusky did was damnable and shameful. What's happening to Paterno is just a damn shame."

Haphazard NBA Lockout Comments - October

First and foremost, I don't know anything. I know there are all sorts of arguments and debates, and different sides think different things and bla bla bla. So I'm no expert on the subject. But I did notice something that would indicate that the owners are total liars.

Here are a couple paragraphs from Yahoo's article on the NBA canceling all of November's games, and declaring that it would be impossible to play a full season at this point:

“It’s not practical, possible or prudent to have a full season now,” added Stern, who previously canceled the first two weeks of the season.

And he repeated his warnings that the proposals might now get even harsher as the league tries to make up the hundreds of millions of dollars that will be lost as the lockout drags on.

“We’re going to have to recalculate how bad the damage is,” Stern said. “The next offer will reflect the extraordinary losses that are piling up now.”

Harsh circumstances, and harsh words. And at first glance, sure, you can understand how owners would be upset about all that lost money.

But hold up. Wasn't it part of the NBA's premise for the lockout that the league was losing money simply by operating? And let's be clear here, we're not talking about losing a few grand, or a few hundred grand. The line used in the article is "hundreds of millions of dollars." If the NBA is going to lose that much money by not playing games (AND not paying players to play those games), I think maybe they were pulling in a decent rake from the regular season.

The second part is more obvious: the players are losing their share of that money as well. You can think whatever you want about whether NBA players are "worth" what they're paid, but the fact is that the market has determined that 20 point-per-game guards are worth about $10 million a year, because that's what they make. And while it may behoove NBA players to accept a small pay decrease in order to help grow the league, they're entitled to fight for the right to a share of the pie.

For kicks, I did a little searching and found out how revenue was split in 2008 in other leagues (NBA owners are demanding a 50/50 split).

Percentage of revenue paid to top-level players (not including minor leagues, as of 2008)
NFL - 59%
NBA - 57%
NHL - 56.7%
MLB - 52%

The new NFL collective bargaining agreement actually has the NFL players' share plummeting down to about 48%, but that might be more appropriate based on the draw of individual players in the NFL versus the draw of the franchise itself. Browns fans like the Browns regardless of who's quarterbacking the team. I cite Brady Quinn, Derek Anderson, Charlie Frye, Trent Dilfer, Jeff Garcia, Kelly Holcomb, and Tim Couch, and the fact that Joe Mandi still loves the Browns. Or the nightmare of teams Washington has put on the field, and that the Skins have still boasted the first- or second-highest gross weekly attendance in football every year since 2006 (when apparently ESPN believes people began attending football games).

Anyways, I think it's a fair argument that NBA players are a greater part of the draw for their sport than the individual players are in any other sport. People go out to see Kobe or LeBron or Melo more than they go out to see the Cavaliers, the Knicks, or the Heat. It seems sensible that they'd command a higher share of the revenue, from a very basic standpoint.

I'm sure the issue is much more complex than I'm giving it credit for. But today, like most days, I'm siding with labor.

What's This? What's This?

Not unlike Jack Skellington, I find myself confused with the feelings I have tonight. The NBA just announced that they've canceled the first two weeks of the regular season, and most expectations are that more games will be canceled before all is said and done.

Inexplicably, after a decade of not caring about the NBA, I find myself saddened to hear this news. Last season was perhaps the NBA's best in just as long a time, with the Dallas Mavericks upsetting the Miami Heat in the NBA Finals, but even before that, the entire playoffs were incredibly competitive and entertaining. The second act of Miami's dream team held an opportunity for all sports fans to root for or against a "super-team." Between Kobe's Lakers, the old Big 3 in Boston, the Derrick Rose Show in Chicago, a Knicks team that has a full season of Carmelo and Amare, and a burgeoning elite team in Oklahoma City, there were plenty of teams set in the path of the Heat and Mavericks.

Not even mentioning the Wizards' potentially growing team, there was plenty to look forward to with this year's basketball season. I won't lie and say that I'm not kind of excited about the NHL's opportunity to pull in some of the NBA's disillusioned fans, but it's a damn shame that the NBA is wasting this chance to build on the best product they've offered in years.

Figure it out, guys. Nobody benefits from games being canceled.

Not-So-Super Idea, Mario

If you're a hockey fan, you've heard/read Mario Lemieux's comments about the fracas between the Islanders and the Penguins last weekend. He decried the punishments as insufficient (a perfectly reasonable stance; the contest was a bloodbath), and then spewed this nonsense:

"If the events relating to Friday night reflect the state of the league, I need to re-think whether I want to be a part of it."

Am I the only one who had flashbacks to another whiny Pittsburgh sports figure? James Harrison said he considered retiring because of the NFL's new commitment to follow rules already in their rulebooks. Now, a hockey legend, maybe the second best player of all time, says he might want to end his relationship with his sport because a few Islanders weren't suspended enough?

I had a bunch of ideas for this article. Metaphors, analogies, and other comments. And then I read what other people have already written, and they've outlined it pretty well already.

My best thought is this: really, truly, who gives a shit about Mario Lemieux in today's NHL? He's an owner, one of thirty. If any owner doesn't want to be a part of the league, you know what he can do? Sell the team. There would be plenty of wealthy investors very interested in purchasing a team with the national appeal of the Penguins, and a brand new stadium to boot. Mark Cuban has expressed interest in the past.

Would it feel weird for the league to turn its back on one of its greatest players? Yes, of course. And Penguins fans would be crushed; the man who saved their team back when it was terrible feeling so wronged by the league that he abandoned it? No small story. But once Sidney Crosby gets back on the ice, Penguins fans will put aside feelings of betrayal on behalf of Mario, and get back to hating the Capitals and rooting for their team.

As I said, other people have written pieces expressing many of my other sentiments, so I'll just link them here. And here. And also here.

Almost Guilty Until Proven Guilty

The chatter on Facebook/Twitter/the blogosphere has been pretty uniform today: Auburn had better enjoy their title while it lasts. There appears to be a consensus that the NCAA will eventually find additional information that will be enough to declare him to have acted improperly, and that Auburn will have to vacate their title victory from last night.

I find that unlikely. First off, an investigation was conducted and completed. Cam Newton was declared ineligible for a couple hours, then, after Auburn filled out the proper paperwork, was reinstated. The end result was that the NCAA investigated cleared Newton to play.

The reasoning I've heard is that, with regards to a parent or third party requesting illegal benefits, there are three circumstances for which a player can be suspended:

1. The parent or third party accepts benefits.
2. The parent or third party asks for benefits with the player's knowledge.
3. The parent or third party asks for benefits, then the player attends the solicited school, regardless of whether or not the player knew.

Apparently the information here has indicated that none of those three situations occurred. My understanding is that Cam Newton's father and some other guy tried to get money from Mississippi State in exchange for sending Newton there to play. Mississippi State didn't pay, and Newton went to Auburn. The only circumstance under which Newton would be ineligible would be if he knew that his dad asked for this money, and proving that someone knew something is nearly impossible (see Barry Bonds).

Do I think something improper went down that actually involved Cam Newton? It's possible. I operate under the assumption that pretty much every star college athlete gets some kind of improper benefit or preferential treatment. There's too much money in college sports, and the elite players are too valuable to their schools not to get some kind of extra cheese on their pizzas. But based on everything we've heard, Newton was okay to play, and Auburn was fine to play him.

If new information comes out, then the NCAA will react to that as necessary. But right now, I don't see things going that way. So I extend my congratulations to Auburn on the national title they deserved to win in 2004.