The Daily Procrastinator

It's a beautiful day for a new era in baseball.

Fans, rejoice!  Donald Fehr, head of the MLBPA, is resigning.  As the head of the union, Fehr has done his best to drag the sport through the mud with his campaigning against tougher drug policies in the sport.  And we all know how well that worked out, right A-Rod and Manny?

Now, if we can just get Bud Selig to join him, maybe there will be some hope for saving the sport for future generations.

It’s been a big week for Major League Baseball.  First we heard that A-Rod has “allegedly” been using steroids since he was a teenager, and now Manny Ramirez gets a 50-game suspension for testing positive for human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG, which can be used to boost testosterone levels (he swears he wasn’t cheating, but it’s only real legitimate use is in boys with delayed puberty; at 36 he’s well past his awkward teen years).

A beautiful day to get juiced at the ballpark.

If you listen to the sports buzz, you’d think that this was all a startling revelation.  You’d think that the journalism that brought us the A-Rod story was risk-taking and cutting edge.  You’d think that Major League Baseball was taking a hard line against doping.

You’ll forgive me if all that I can manage is sarcastic “woohoo.” 

This is all coming two decades too late.  Impossible, you say?  My grandmother, a rabid baseball fan who knew just about everyone who passed through Veterans Stadium, was talking steroids with baseball scouts in the early 1990s.  It’s now 2009.  Are we supposed to be surprised by all of this?

I grew up with baseball.  I love baseball for what it meant to my family, my childhood, my history.  But the game that stands before me today is a shadow of its past, a sport that’s been ruined by winks and nods and silently accepted cheating (yes, MLB commissioner Bud Selig and Don Fehr, head of the MLBPA, I’m looking at both of you with my customary sneer of disgust and chronic desire to kick you both in the teeth).

I’m thrilled to death with Manny’s suspension, if for no other reason than my sincere hope that the salary withholdings significantly cut into the income of his agent, Scott Boras, known for negotiating mega-deals for his clients (like A-Rod’s ridiculous $252 million/10 year deal).  Coincidence that he also represents A-Rod?  I think not.  Let’s hope that his drug-fueled gravy train is about to derail.

For some additional reading on the subject, here are some scathing words from the Boston Herald.  

Hello again, procrastinators! This wrap-up will bring you up to speed on what’s been happening here at The Daily Procrastinator for the last two weeks. Normally, as you’ve noticed by now, I’m sure, there’s a weekly wrap-up in your email every weekend. Last weekend, that didn’t happen. I procrastinated. Surely you knew that was a possibility. TDP has been as busy as ever in the past two weeks, and this is your chance to make sure that you’ve read every tasty bit. Let’s take it one week at a time, shall we?

March 16 – March 20

The week began with two posts by TallGirl, addressing first the dust-covered rollerblades she discovered while cleaning her garage, and then the combined narcissism and bad PR decisions of A-Fraud.

After many, many hours of celebrating Irish heritage, BigRedPoet (who’s German and French Canadian, by the way) published Part 1 of the beer-fueled St. Patrick’s Day adventure, chronicling the daylight hours and early evening. Part 2, which is perhaps slightly less coherent, details the happenings of the late evening and pursuant VERY early morning. Because she’s such a helpful friend, TallGirl offered a few hangover cures for anyone whose St. Patrick’s Day celebrations got out of hand.

The week ended with both lasciviousness and laughs as TallGirl wrote about her recent hot upskirt experience, and the newest Procrastinator, Marmite, bemoaned the unfortunate truth that Snuggies are taking over the world.

This break between weeks is brought to you by a grumpy, land-based koala bear. His name is Jeff.

March 23 – March 27

TallGirl started the week by wondering how FaceBook can simultaneously inspire curiosity, nostalgia, and low-level retrograde anger. As someone whose face has not been booked, I’m tempted to go sign up, just to observe this curious phenomenon.

On Tuesday, BigRedPoet offered a review of the Elton John and Billy Joel concert that he and FlashCap attended in Houston. As it turns out, two straight men can attend such a concert without the benefit of female companionship and still have a GREAT time.

Wednesday’s post was drawn from a discussion thread about important childhood memories. Several of the Procrastinators offered interesting tidbits from their young lives. Check it out, and get to know your favorite Procrastinator just a little bit better!

On Thursday, FlashCap expressed disbelief and outrage at a remarkably ignorant news article written by an ESPN reporter and posted on the company’s website. You’ve got to read it to believe it. As FlashCap seethed over the incompetence of paid professionals, TallGirl realized that Spring (the wily bugger) had sneaked up on her while she wasn’t watching. When it jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!“, the resulting joy turned into a TDP post.

BigRedPoet discovered something disturbing on Friday. While he was procrastinating by watching YouTube videos, he discovered that the Starburst Berries & Cream commercial that he found so offensive the first time had been reborn in a techno-remix version. Yikes.

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The Daily Procrastinator: Contributing to the Dramatic Reduction of Your Personal Productivity

I grew up with baseball. It’s been a part of my life and my family since my first visit to Veterans Stadium in the 70s. Like any lifelong relationship, baseball and I have had our ups and downs. We were no longer on speaking terms after the 1994 strike, and only gradually, over time, did I return to a position of sentimental appreciation, even though I no longer follow the season and stats closely.

The recent news from Sports Illustrated that Alex Rodriguez tested positive for the use of performance-enhancing drugs in the 2003 season of “confidential” testing is not surprising. Major League Baseball, led by Bud Selig, and the players’ union, led by Donald Fehr, have worked together to craft the weakest drug policy in all of professional sports. The two groups appear to have a longstanding agreement that the league would look the other way as long as the big hitters kept delivering longballs to keep the fans in the stands. But much to their surprise, the plan backfired.

Barry Bonds pursuit of Hank Aaron’s home run record was met with shrugs instead of fanfare. Congressional inquiries, tell-all books and trainer accusations left the public sentiment ranging from something between lukewarm indifference at best, and outrage at worst. An entire generation of the sport has been tainted. In the post-1994 period, it seems that more players were juiced than clean. While we long suspected as much, seeing the list of confirmed names is disappointing.

So what now for A-Rod? He’s locked in to a long-term contract with the Yankees, so his future isn’t in jeopardy. What’s at risk is his reputation. His response to the revelations will forever influence public opinion and the legacy that he leaves behind when his time on the field has passed. Will he address the charges head-on like Andy Pettite, confessing, apologizing and moving on, or will he go down in history defiant, forever tarnished by the stigma of the lie, like Roger Clemens or Barry Bonds?

I have no doubt that A-Rod has been spending the past several days entrenched with agents, lawyers and players’ union reps, trying to craft statements that address the charges. After all the lies, I have a suggestion for him: give honesty a shot. Nothing will ever change what has been done, but history may be more likely to judge him kindly if he stands up and takes responsibility like a man rather than evading the truth like a weasel.

Maybe if he talks to the fans openly, honestly and apologetically, he’ll manage to maintain a legacy that reaches beyond his teammate-inspired nickname of A-Fraud.