Thursday, December 13, 2007

Feet of Clay : Update

I grew up loving baseball. To this day. Still I marvel at the beautiful intricities of the game, the symmetry of the ballyards, the time-less-ness of baseball. On this idiot bloggie, baseball has been the topic most often ( thought it was Hillary, huh?) written about.

There is something comforting in the history, the continuity of baseball. Dynasties come and go, hopes of the World Series are reborn each spring, the slow, exquisite death through the summer, when your favorite team sucks; the statistics, my gosh, all the statistics!

The wonderous stories. Ahh, the stories, and the pleasure in remembering them. All the kooks that manage to get to the bigs, like Mark Fydrich in the 70s, to John Rocker in the 90s, to Yogi Berra, of every decade. That reminds me of all the players who are so famous, they are known by just one name: Yogi, Rose, the Mick, Fernando, The Splendid Splinter, Stan the man, Babe, Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, the Rocket.

Today we find out that many may, MAY be cheaters at the beloved game. I am not outraged, I am disappointed.

In this time of mud-slinging politicians, who by the way play an equally intricate game, very few of them, less than a handful, can be considered heros or heroines, we're now told that some athlete heros are mostly disappointments, too.

When the names of possible drug users in the game included only players I disliked, it was alright to think about the minimal damage to Baseball. Their player, or their team cheats.

Now it feels like a good friend has suddenly died.
4:00 pm Update--
Thank you, Albert. For being only a rumor today,
nothing more.

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