By By Will Bardwell / staff writer
April 29, 2004
Major League Baseball observations, revelations, and more than a couple of opinions sure to come back and bite me by this time next week…
I will always insist that professional wrestling is a model for life.
Take Ric Flair. Flair, the greatest champion in the history of the squared circle, was the baddest bad guy that ever lived. He was cool, cunning, and cocky. Everything about Flair made him the most despicable person to grace SuperStation TBS since Darren Daulton.
No matter. Everybody loved him.
Flair's greatest rival was Ricky Steamboat, a smiling, up-beat martial arts expert who could kick a van in half if given a running start. He was talented, charismatic, and always positive a great role model.
No matter. Everybody hated him.
Flair and Steamboat were intense rivals and had some fantastic matches together. Most of the time, Flair won and always by the same formula.
As soon as the bell rang, Steamboat went to work pummeling Flair with kicks, chops and punches. In moments, Flair begged for mercy.
But just when Flair looked most downtrodden, he'd do what he did best. He'd cheat.
Sometimes it was a finger in the eye. Sometimes it was a punch below the belt, and sometimes it was a folding chair across the back. Inevitably, it always came, and Steamboat's promising start would be washed away by the best there ever was.
So don't order the champagne yet, Red Sox fans.
When Boston swept the New York Yankees in the Bronx last weekend, chowder guzzlers all along the East Coast went crazy. Victory is at hand! The evil that has enslaved us for decades is fading away!
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get in line with the Ricky Steamboat fans. I've seen this before.
In predictable Steamboat fashion, the Red Sox have hit the Yankees hard and fast. In predictable Flair fashion, New York will recover eventually probably unscrupulously.
Maybe it'll be a controversial trade. Maybe Jason Giambi will start sharing those little magic pills that his friends at BALCO gave him. Maybe George Steinbrenner will run out of the owner's box with a steel chair and wallop Curt Schilling. It could be anything.
Somehow, I guarantee it'll happen. In the long run, the Yankees will rebound, the Red Sox will fall short, and the universe will return to business as usual. Trust me on this. I saw it happen every Saturday night on TBS in the late 1980s.
Oh, it's you again
I read a lot of predictions for the 2004 baseball season back during spring training, but I don't remember anyone picking the Florida Marlins to do jack.
I figured they'd wind up as the third-best team in the NL East, so I'm in no position to tell anyone, "I told you so." But isn't it a little weird that nobody picked the defending champs to amount to a hill of beans?
The Marlins not only have the most wins in the majors, but as of Wednesday, they sported the National League's lowest ERA (3.42), had committed just nine errors (fifth-best in the majors) and were batting a respectable .275.
Don't write off the defending champs, you say? Thanks for the tip. I'll remember that one next year.
Fantasy waste-ball
Is there is a bigger waste of my time than fantasy baseball? Hello? Anyone?
Look at my team. Barry Bonds? Got him. Andruw Jones, Carlos Delgado, Roy Oswalt and Derek Jeter? Drafted them too. I was primed to engrave my name on the trophy.
Then the season started. Delgado and Jeter started off cold as ice. And yeah, Bonds is hitting something like .600, but he gets walked so often that he has fewer official at-bats than my uncle.
And then, in a stroke of genius, I traded away Marcus Giles to get Kevin Millwood. Millwood is a respectable 2-2 with a not-so-hot 3.96 ERA, but Giles is hitting .400 and is on pace to collect 100 RBIs.
Now I find myself in next-to-last place, five spots behind a team named White Lace and Promises.
Oh well. Only three more months until I can sign up for fantasy football.