How many are there like me? I grew up with baseball as my national pastime, but as of late baseball has became the “past-its-time” game. This I attribute squarely to the efforts of one Bud Selig, he of the owners’ coalition that wrested control of the sport from an independent commissioner and, in the name of the almighty buck, took it down back alleys laced with steroids, cheating, padded statistics and records that do not reflect human achievement but artificial inflation (of muscles, bats, maybe balls, and even ballparks themselves). Oh, what a grand sight when a steroid-ridden monster hits one “yard” (out of the park to you uninitiated).
Now, we have the sorry spectacle of a freezing-cold World (when was it ever global?) Series that ended on the eve of All Hallow’s eve. This is baseball? What happened to the sun?
At any rate, one would hope that the doltish ex-used-car-salesman Mr. Selig could at least pronounce the Series MVP’s name correctly, but he muffed that too, calling the winner “Mr. Eck-steen,” when we all know the warrior’s (and he is a warrior) is David Eckstein.
RIP, National Pastime.
You Might Also Like:
- The Two Bud Seligs: Both Hypocritical
- George Mitchell: Cover-up Artist and Hired Hand
- Not With a Bang But a Whimper…
- Door Creaks Open on Silence of the Sham
- Opening Day Signals True American Recovery
Posted in Almanack Musings |
Leave a Comment