So Long, Chipper

It has been a few days now since my beloved Atlanta Braves were bumped from the playoffs in the NL Wildcard game against the St. Louis Cardinals. I didn’t get to watch the whole game because I had to be at a wedding rehearsal during the same time, but in hindsight, that was probably a good thing. A couple of takeaways from the game:

• The Braves didn’t deserve to win. Committed too many errors and left way too many men on base. 
• Regardless of this, they still had a chance to win, which was negated by one of the worst calls in the history of Major League Baseball. Regardless of the fact that umpire Sam Holbrook stands by his call and other officials have closed ranks around him, it was a terrible call. Not only did it betray a fundamental lack of understanding of the word ‘ordinary’, it failed to take into account the whole line of reasoning behind the institution of the Infield Fly Rule in the first place—to protect the offensive team.
• A one-game playoff between two wildcard teams is completely stupid, as it negates the 162 game regular season. Anything can happen in a baseball game, which is why we play series in the playoffs—to more accurately and less randomly determine the better team. Add this to MLB Commissioner Bud Selig’s loooonnngg list of baseball sins.

So yeah, I was bummed about the game. The biggest bummer of all though is that the loss represented the end of Chipper Jones’ Hall of Fame career. 

I have always been a big Chipper fan. At the height of my baseball fandom (when, in addition to just following the Braves I was also obsessively collecting baseball cards and playing baseball all the time myself), Chipper burst onto the scene in 1995 as the Braves’ star of the future. Atlanta won the World Series that year, Chipper should have won the NL Rookie of the Year Award, and it looked like the future was very bright.

And for Chipper, it definitely was—he’s a first ballot Hall of Famer for sure, as well as being in the top 3 all time in the following categories:

• Switch-hitters: I’d actually put him at number 2, behind Mickey Mantle. In my opinion, definitely ahead of Eddie Murray.
• Third basemen: I think you could make a case that he’s the best of all time, but I’d put him behind Mike Schmidt and ahead of George Brett.
• Braves: Third best Brave ever, behind Hank Aaron and Warren Spahn (apologies to Tom Glavine…you really shouldn’t have signed with the Mets though).

You might disagree with where I have Chipper ranked within the top 3 of these categories, which is fine. You might also disagree that Chipper belongs in the top 3 of these categories, but you would be wrong.

Chipper played his entire career with the Braves, and as you’ve likely heard all season if you are a baseball fan, “he played the game the way it’s supposed to be played.” The degree to which he was respected around the league was evident this season as team after team honored him when he would make his last visit to play in their stadiums. 

Chipper’s retirement is poignant for me, because he represents the last link to the dominant Braves teams of my youth, who won 14 divisional titles in a row. That streak had already begun when Chipper broke into the big leagues, but he was there for its peak, when the Braves won the World Series in his rookie season in 1995. Probably no one would have believed that it would be his last, but as it turned out, the Braves of Chipper Jones were largely characterized by great pitching, a ton of regular season wins, and disappointment in the playoffs. 

That being said, looking ahead, it’s hard to be excited about the prospect of the Braves ascending to the top of the baseball world without their best player and longtime clubhouse leader around. Over the last few years, as his skills declined (slightly) and it became harder and harder for him to stay healthy, it also became increasingly obvious how important he was to the team: when Chipper was in the lineup, it always felt like the Braves had a chance to win. Without him, any victory seemed to be a lucky one.

He’s still a good player, and could probably still be productive for a couple more seasons, but he’s made it clear over and over again this season that he’s done, and there’s a lot to be said for going out well, rather than hanging on as long as you can and potentially tarnishing your legacy.

So so long to Chipper Jones, the best Brave of my lifetime. You will be missed.

          

What Ails Baseball

In an article written yesterday, Hank Aaron, Major League Baseball’s All-Time Home Run King (that’s right, Barry Bonds doesn’t count) suggested that Braves rookie Jason Heyward can help “what ails baseball.”

Heyward, a five-tool rookie sensation who some are touting as the best Braves prospect since Aaron himself, can certainly help what ails the Braves—a lack of production from the outfield—but what about Hank’s comments regarding baseball as a whole?

The “ailment” that Aaron refers to is the growing concern in certain circles that there are too few African-Americans in the Major Leagues.

While I agree with Aaron that the emergence of a young African-American superstar like Heyward (and as a Braves fan, I certainly hope that he develops into a superstar) could encourage more African-American youths to play baseball, I wonder: how big of an issue is this? Is it necessary/important for ethnic groups to be properly represented in major sports? If so, shouldn’t we be concerned about the lack of Caucasians in the NBA? Shouldn’t the lack of Asian-Americans in the NFL be a cause for great alarm?

After all, it’s not the 1940s anymore, and thanks to Jackie Robinson, neither African-Americans nor any other ethnic group are being systematically excluded from the Major Leagues. So that begs the question: why are African-Americans choosing sports other than baseball?

There have been many proposed answers, from the inherent expense involved in playing baseball to the lack of inner city baseball programs to the overall decline in baseball’s popularity compared to other sports.

I think the most interesting theory that I’ve heard (which would also explain baseball’s general decline in popularity) is suggested by political science professor Diana Schaub. Schaub argues that baseball is an “acquired taste,” the love of which is best passed on from fathers to their children. The increase in the number of children (and especially African-American children) raised without fathers has led to a generation of children with no love for baseball.

I don’t know if Schaub has stumbled upon the answer or not, but I recommend the article; it’s a fascinating read.

In the meantime, through one Major League game, Jason Heyward is batting .400 with a home run (hit in his first career at bat) and 4 runs batted in. Here’s hoping that, at the very least, he can help with what ails my beloved Braves.

Rick Reilly on Bonds

I have a short-term subscription to Sports Illustrated which I bought from a girl at church who was selling magazine subscriptions as a fundraiser. Some issues of SI are better than others, but one of the high points is always Rick Reilly’s back page column.

The July 23 issue of SI focused on Hank Aaron and the home run record chase, and Reilly’s column, Giving Barry His Due, was particularly enjoyable, as he suggested different ways to properly celebrate Barry Bonds’s impending record-breaking home run.* Here are some of my favorites:

• Light one of his baseball cards and hold it up like a Bic at a concert.
• Call the Hall of Fame and ask which cap will appear on Bonds’s head in his Cooperstown exhibit—the size 7, the 71/2, or the 8?
• If you’re watching TV, flip to something a little more plausible, like MacGyver.
• Pull out a copy of Game of Shadows and begin reading aloud how Bonds used steroids, human growth hormone, insulin, testosterone decanoate, bovine steroids and female fertility drugs to help him set this record. And then watch Bonds step on home and point to God.
• Squirt juice out of a giant syringe.
• Remind yourself that they put a gold medal around Ben Johnson’s neck for a while, too.

Reilly closed his column by putting Hank Aaron’s achievement into perspective:

Remember this: The man who held the record before Bonds—one of the most principled and honorable men you will ever meet—is reluctant to even speak to Bonds on the phone, much less be there to witness the record breaker. Just because a thief paints over a masterpiece doesn’t mean the masterpiece isn’t still underneath.

Bonds will end up with more home runs than Aaron, but I’m convinced that in the long term, Aaron, and not Bonds, will be remembered as the Home Run King, while Bonds will be remembered as a colossal talent who ruined his legacy by cheating.

*Through the seventh inning of tonight’s game against Atlanta, Bonds remained homerless. It’s starting to look increasingly hopeful that he won’t break the record against my beloved Braves!

The Eight Questions Meme, Sort Of

Several days ago, Edward “Hollywood” Carson tagged me to do this on his blog, so I decided I would comply, but with a couple of changes. I’m supposed to make up and then answer eight questions. Well, eight questions is a lot, and since I have to come up with them on my own, I’m going to limit it to 5.


1. What is something about you that embarrasses you, or at least that you wouldn’t want everyone on the World Wide Web to see?

I can’t swim. Not a bit. I don't really have an excuse, I just never learned how. When I was younger, I was greatly ashamed by this, but I’ve had enough people joke with me about it over the years that now it just annoys me. One of my college buddies actually gave me a couple of lessons over the course of a couple of years, and I learned how to float on my back, but if I were ever in a situation where I had to put that into practice, I’m almost certain that I would choke (both metaphorically and literally).

2. In the About The Author link on the side of the page, you describe yourself as an ultimate frisbee player, but it seems like every other post you write is about baseball, while you hardly ever talk about ultimate. What’s up with that?

It is a firmly-held conviction of mine that baseball is the best sport of all time. It is not the world’s oldest sport, but the meticulous documentation of its history is unmatched. It is not the most demanding sport physically, but hitting a major league fastball has been called the most difficult thing to do in sports, and when placed alongside the grind of a 162 game schedule, it makes baseball demanding in a unique way. The sound of football pads crashing against each other is impressive, and the swish of a basketball net is cool, but no sound in sports compares to the poetry of the crack of the bat. I could go on and on.

Baseball is fun to play too, and for a while, I was pretty good at it, but I was never going to make it to the big leagues. I wasn’t even good enough to really play in college.

Ultimate doesn’t have nearly the history of baseball, but it has come a long way in the last 30 years. I made great friends in college through the frisbee team I played on, and when I’m healthy (which sadly is rarer and rarer these days), I can be competitive at the highest levels of ultimate, which is pretty neat.

Baseball is the better sport. Ultimate is the sport that I am better at.

3. What is your favorite animal?

Turtles, without a doubt. When I was little, I never really had much interest in pets, unless I found a turtle in the yard.

I’m not sure I can explain what the big deal about turtles is, but I’ll try: They’re easy to care for, generally very nice, occasionally friendly, and usually, not in too big of a hurry. People could learn a lot from turtles.

I’m not a big fan of snapping turtles though. They’re the jerks that give the rest of the turtles a bad name.

4. It’s pretty clear from reading your blog that you are a Christian. Why is that?

Honestly, the reason I became a Christian is because my parents are Christians—it’s just the way I was raised. As I got older though, especially when I went away to college, I examined my own beliefs and also learned about some other religions, and while some of my ideas have changed, my faith is probably stronger now than it has ever been.

When it comes down to it, the Person of Jesus is entirely unique, and, in my opinion, irresistibly appealing. There’s no one I would rather imitate.

5. If you were Barry Bonds, on the verge of making history by breaking Hank Aaron’s career home run record, what would you do?

I’d consult the nearest physician as soon as possible. With as many foreign substances as I’d have injected into my body, I’d be pretty sure that I had some major problems.


There you go. Since I only answered five questions, I’ll only tag five people: Angela, Clay Hendrix, David McMahon, Paul Murphy and Sam Travaglini. Technically, you’re supposed to answer eight questions, but I guess it would be pretty hypocritical of me to hold you to that. I’ll look forward to the responses.