Another Salt in Wound Mystery

Bernie and I got married at the Bellagio Hotel. There was a big party with a lot of logistics that my wife is unaware of to this day. This is a picture of me arriving with some of Bernie's family to the pre-party in our suite.

Why am I arriving to my own party? Because I was constantly going downstairs so I could get guests onto the elevator.

There is a lot of security at the Bellagio. The lobby is a zoo. I don't think I could have gotten three large men onto the elevator without a hassle. It's why I question Javon Walker's account of being robbed in his room, carried unconscious through the hotel and then tossed into the street.

Is it possible he was robbed...





...in the street?

Spring Fever

From stltoday.com:

When the Cardinals acquired third baseman Troy Glaus he seemed earmarked for the cleanup job, a big bat protecting Albert Pujols. Then La Russa checked the numbers. Glaus is a career .238 hitter at cleanup, hitting .229 there last season. In the No. 5 spot, Glaus hits .259 (.353 last season) and slugs .500 vs. .471 at cleanup.

Only finding another cleanup hitter would keep the Cardinals from putting him in that spot. And La Russa has someone in mind: Rick Ankiel.

Ankiel hit cleanup in both games against Atlanta, and he went two for three there Sunday. He offers a lefthanded buffer between righties Pujols and Glaus. La Russa has said cleanup is a role he doesn't heap on a batter lightly — that it can be "the most difficult spot in the lineup." He thinks it won't faze Ankiel.

"You take what you think is classic human nature and then you make exceptions if you have a guy," La Russa said. "I think Ank is going to take the same at-bat wherever he goes."

BECAUSE NOTHING COULD EVER MESS WITH RICK ANKIEL'S HEAD.

Super Bowl Halftime Show

In light of their past problems with the FCC, I was suprised to see the show start with a giant penis arrow making its way across the field to the heart shaped stage. The penis punctured the heart, Tom Petty came to life, and enthusiastic fans rushed the stage. Who were these young white people and where did they come from?

It's not Tom Petty's fault that I discovered him the same year I started listening to Elvis Costello, Graham Parker, and Warren Zevon. He's fine, and he did a fine job at the Super Bowl. But the camera kept cutting from the old men on stage to the fresh faced kids singing into camera. They seemed to be professional enthusiasts, dimly aware of the music they were mouthing along to. Would their frat boy good spirits in any way be dimmed if this were the American Idol finale, spring break, or the Indy 500?

Isa Meets Pete Rose

A couple summers ago, Isa and I were in Las Vegas for my mother's birthday. We went to the mall near Caesar's Palace where there's a light show with sculptures of Greek Gods moving and speaking. The show is pathetic, and Isa and I like to go for the contrast between the weak effects and strong rhetoric. "Incredible!" the statue says. "Amazing! Apollo, play us the music from your lyre. The most beautiful sounds I have ever heard!"

While we were waiting for the show to begin, I looked to my right. A large banner above a sports memorabilia store said Pete Rose was appearing that day. I looked down from the banner. Pete Rose was sitting alone at a long card table. This called for further investigation.

Isa and I went inside and quickly ascertained what was going on. Pete Rose would sign anything you bought at the store. They had cameras for sale if you wanted to capture the moment of Pete signing whatever you bought at the store (except for the camera). I bought a picture of Pete Rose sliding into home plate.

"Gamblin' Rose, Gamblin' Rose
Why he gambled, no one knows
Bet on his own team, that was dumb, Pete
Now, you'll always... be Gamblin' Rose."
(Chris Cox, age 17)

Goose!

Congratulations to Goose Gossage for his election to the baseball Hall of Fame. He has no business there. In fact, the only relievers who belong and aren't already in are Mariano Rivera and Trevor Hoffman, and that's because they're still playing.

Jim Rice just missed and should make it next year. He shouldn't, but he will. It's not because he wasn't a great player, he was terrific--"feared," the people making his case keep saying--but there are plenty of great players who aren't quite Hall of Fame material. Dick Allen, Ron Santo, Tony Oliva, Rico Carty, Dale Murphy, Dave Parker, Andre Dawson...you could build a team around any one of them. But would you travel to Cooperstown to see the memorabilia?

The only two position players I can see getting in are Gil Hodges and Joe Torre, but it's really their managerial success that separates them from the pack.

And don't get me started on the lackluster assortment of pitchers. Someone's always making a case for Bert Blyleven. But was he ever an ace you would put up against Tom Seaver or Steve Carlton (or even Luis Tiant) in a big game? I hate that Don Sutton is already in the Hall of Fame. But to use that as an excuse to let in more glorified number two starters only compounds the error.

There was only one player on the ballot this year who stands head and shoulders above the rest. He got twenty-something percent of the vote and probably won't ever get in. That giant of a man with a shriveled scrotum is Mark McGwire. He was amazing to watch in his prime, I'd never seen anything like it, and those pitchers were juiced too. I'm not a McGwire fan, I hated his stupid salutes to his fat son after his home runs and his testimony before Congress was pathetic. But I think he belongs. Which means maybe it's time to start talking about Pete Rose.

another narrow admission

Another player who appears in the Mitchell report tries to get out ahead of the story. From Brian Roberts of the Orioles, in a statement to the Baltimore Sun:

"In 2003, when I took one shot of steroids, I immediately realized that this was not what I stood for or anything that I wanted to continue doing. I never used steroids, human growth hormone or any other performance-enhancing drugs prior to or since that single incident . . . I am very sorry and I deeply regret ever making that terrible decision. My only hope and prayer is that the Orioles, my family, friends and fans that have supported me so faithfully will forgive me."

Like Andy Pettitte, the drugs were the wake-up call he needed to remind him that he didn't need drugs, except as a wake up call.

"The Bronx is Burning"

ESPN is running a marathon of its miniseries about the 1977 New York Yankees. It is very watchable. John Turturro is fantastic, losing himself in the role of Billy Martin, the wily, self-destructive manager with a chip on his shoulder. Oliver Platt is less irritating than usual as owner George Steinbrenner, depressingly younger in 1977 than I am today.

But the action grinds to a halt whenever they cut to the "Son of Sam" case, which is a lot more often than you would think. What should be background flavor starts to dominate the show. The case was gripping the city! The Yankees and the case! How many movies have fallen back on this cheap device? It feels to me like there have been a couple.

accountability

A lot of excitement today about Andy Pettitte "coming clean" and admitting to the use of human growth hormone. From the Sunday New York Post:

"In 2002 I was injured,'' the statement said. "I had heard that human growth hormone could promote faster healing for my elbow. I felt an obligation to get back to my team as soon as possible. For this reason, and only this reason, for two days I tried human growth hormone.

"Though it was not against baseball rules, I was not comfortable with what I was doing, so I stopped. This is it - two days out of my life; two days out of my entire career, when I was injured and on the disabled list. If what I did was an error in judgment on my part, I apologize. I accept responsibility for those two days."

So for 48 hours, his desire to be a good teammate overrode his personal comfort level. If that was wrong, he's sorry. What more do you people want?

'roids

The Mitchell report on steroids in baseball is coming out today, and word is leaking that Roger Clemens is in there. I never thought that, in the World Series, when Clemens took Piazza's shattered bat and hurled it back at him, it was just the spirit of competition. I feel the same way about Kenny Rogers smashing photographers' cameras and throwing ninety-three miles per hour at age forty. The use of steroids by pitchers has been widely overlooked. I'd look for a whole mess of them on the list.

Bowie Kuhn, Hall of Famer

The veterans committee seems to have clamped down and made it harder for players to get in, ever since Mazeroski somehow slipped by them. So Santo, Hodges, and Torre remain out. In the meantime, they've adjusted the rules to make it easier for executives and pioneers, and the committee has gone hog wild honoring its own. Except when it comes to Marvin Miller.

Foul!

Connie Hawkins was one of my two favorite basketball players of all time. He landed with the Lakers after squandering his talents with the Globetrotters and then in the old ABA, followed by a great run with the Phoenix Suns. By the time, he got here, the Hawk was still capable of dominating games in brief stretches though no longer of the consistency to carry a team.

Hawkins played here in the years after Wilt but before Kareem, when the Lakers had no chance of winning, when no one could believe in the team except for a kid. There's something wonderful about rooting for a team without a prayer. It's like rooting for an indy band. The Rolling Stones don't need you and neither do the Yankees.

Tonight, the Lakers face Orlando. This team is going nowhere. Why not trade Kobe and really have some fun?