Baseballhead:
Hall of Phlegm

Michael Cox

Hey, you kids! Get outta that Jell-O tree and gather 'round for Baseballhead, where we've only recently come out of hiding after hearing the most chilling words ever uttered: "One day in Teletubbie Land, it was Po's turn to wear the skirt."

It was finally, blessedly, a week of actual news in Major League Baseball Land, with the Hall of Fame getting overrun by Reds, Carl "You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry" Everett getting his, and even some comic relief coming out of Seattle on Saturday. To top it off, those shouts of "d'oh!" you heard emanating from Shea Stadium on Sunday are a hint that the Mets' comedy of errors continues.

First, however, the Hall. Sunday's induction ceremony was a day to celebrate the Big Red Machine, with even Carlton Fisk's election owing much to the fact that his team played the Reds in 1975. Of course, we can't discount the fact that Fisk set longevity records at a position where longevity is generally painful.

Still, the fact remains that long after his days in Chicago are the $16K answer on "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," Fisk will be remembered for The Homer. Thanks to luck (legend has it that the cameraman who captured Fisk's body english would have followed the ball instead, had he not been frozen by a large rat atop his camera), many don't even remember Fisk with a bat in his hands. Instead, any statue of the moment will feature Fisk gesturing like a combination of football referee and Aussie Rules goal judge.

It's one of baseball's historic moments, to be sure, but let's hope it doesn't mean Joe Carter is next.

And although the wisdom of electing Tony Perez to immortality has already been widely -- and rightly -- questioned, I welcome his induction because it means that by comparison, Edgar Martinez should be a lock for the Hall.

One thing I always try to do when the inductions are approaching is to read more about the early-legend inductee, and the story of John Alexander "Bid" McPhee is a good one. Surely you've already read that McPhee was one of the last major leaguers to play without a glove. You might understand his trepidation when you realize that what they called "gloves" were more like slabs of leather strapped to the hand.

McPhee did not retire gloveless, however. The rest of the NL caught up to his defensive prowess in 1895, so he tried a mitt in 1896 -- and bested the previous record for fielding percentage by 19 points.

Also a damn fine hitter, McPhee would still hold records for the most triples and stolen bases in Reds history if only the team recognized pre-1900 statistics. Wouldn't want to cheat the Machine out of any records, now.

Item: A mere 24 hours after he was offered to the Mets, Barry Larkin has re-signed with the Reds. According to Larkin and GM Jim Bowden earlier this week, neither side would budge another inch until nearby hog farms required runways. However, there seems to be nothing like a threatened shipment to New York to put the fear of God into a player, and while the Reds bumped up their offer, the key to Larkin's deal was not only a 900K markdown, but an offer to defer a third of the pay.

All this left Mets GM Steve Phillips madder than the proverbial wet hen, although he mistakenly directed his angst towards Bowden. Larkin was the one who owed the Mets a phone call, if only to say, "I've thought about it, and decided I'd rather take broken-glass showers."

The fun continued with Monday's column by Denver (go figure) reporter Tracy Ringolsby. Apparently Ringolsby is spending so much time cultivating his Jim Ross cowboy look that he didn't bother to make sure Larkin was still unsigned when he filed his story on how MLB's economics drove the shortstop from Cincy. Ringolsby has taken up Bud Selig's torch of the need for parity in MLB, guaranteeing himself and his cowboy hat TV time but missing the point that "parity" in fact sucks.

Item: Carl Everett gets a ten-game suspension for obviously and unmistakably bumping a Major League umpire, then not only makes no apologies, but blames the media for his problems.

Setting aside the fact that he's a damn good ballplayer, this is probably the closest to career suicide a player can come without betting on baseball. Even if Roberto Alomar really felt justified in spitting on Mark Hirschbeck, he said he was sorry and made the usual "put it behind me" statement (of course, meaning, "you all should put it behind you").

Realistically, there are enough teams who could give a rat's ass about a player's character (e.g., Cleveland, New York, and strangely, Florida) that Everett will remain gainfully employed for years to come. However, when you're counting on the Commissioner to help select you for All-Star teams and writers to pick you for postseason awards, it's gonna cost him. Not to mention the problems he'll have if he has to stand in the batter's box from now on.

So come on, Carl, take some responsibility for your life. And for what it's worth, you're wrong on the batter's box rule.

Item: The sky fell in Seattle on Saturday, when showers hit but the Safeco Field roof refused to obey the command to close. This ironically came during a FOX Saturday game, to allow the widest possible geographic distribution of mockery.

And what's more, despite forecasts of showers and with huge gray clouds above, the Mariners opened the ceiling just prior to game time -- no doubt to showcase their marvel on semi-national TV. That's what you get for showboating. Then, to explain why such a snafu would occur, the M's blamed "computer problems." Ahhhh, I see. Mechanical problems would have us up in arms, but computer problems -- what can you do?

Heck, I was gonna write a great piece on how Jayson Stark hasn't written an anti-Bobby Valentine piece in at least two weeks, but my Windows 98 is gsdkj.5^2@)

Custom Search