Baseballhead:
Interleague Interval

Michael Cox

Baseballhead here, where this week we salute MTV's Movie Awards, possibly the most-watched award show after which the results are never mentioned again, even by the winners.

I write to you as I simultaneously towel off after the past tumultuous weekend in sports:

• Lennox Lewis was the latest fighter to prove that Mike Tyson was the greatest boxer of the '80s. Adding insult to (head) injury was the fact that Lewis is actually older than Tyson.
   
• War Emblem's Triple Crown hopes ended approximately .78 of a second after the starting gate opened for the Belmont Stakes. Unfortunately, Nielsen isn't reporting how many viewers tuned out before the finish.
   
• NFL Europe continued to make hundreds miss the XFL.
   
• Oh, and there was some basketball. I think the men played too.

In the world of baseball, last weekend was special because for the first time MLB rotated its schedule of interleague play. Well, except for certain "natural rivalries." And the Milwaukee-Pittsburgh series, no doubt due to its hotly anticipated nature.

This year's interleague schedule reminds me of the unrelenting dichotomy of Bud Selig's blatant attempt to pump up attendance:

• Interleague play is good because it allows you, the fan, to see teams you might otherwise never see (of course, bobblehead factories are working overtime to ensure attendance when the Devil Rays come to town).
   
• Interleague play is bad because, combined with unbalanced schedules, it makes Selig's other money-related ploy, the Wild Card, a big fat crock.

However, the latter words bounce off the likes of Selig with exactly the same ease as "you suck," "you're a liar," and "consider a new hairstyle, cowlick-boy," so why bother?

Instead, let's treat it like a gift we never asked for, and enjoy watching the games. So far, Sammy Sosa has declared Safeco Field a homer-friendly yard before kissing his fingers and touching his pectoral muscles several times, the D-Backs saw your Pedro and raised you a Schilling, Yankee fans booed their own team for walking Barry Bonds, and Griffey got hurt again.

This week, Randy Johnson returns to the Bronx, the Twins get to play an actual good team when the Braves come to town, and, er, the Royals try to sell tickets for a series against the Marlins. Then it all changes again this weekend, with teams playing their same-division counterparts so that the Yankees and Mets can rivalrize. (New word patent pending. 50 cent fee per use, payable to me.)

Buck, We Hardly Knew Ye: The Blue Jays gave the heave-ho to manager Buck Martinez last week, either because of the team's dismal record or their even-more-dismal average game length. Martinez becomes the first ex-catcher to go from the broadcast booth to the manager's chair to fired. There but for the grace of God goes Bob Brenly (and by "God," I clearly mean "Jerry Colangelo").

What If They Gave a Draft But No One Came: Let's set aside for the moment that MLB deliberately seems to try to not make a big deal out of its annual draft (there's one good reason for that, and his name is Scott Boras). This year's First-Year Player Draft was even more underwhelming than past seasons', primarily due to the lack of even one truly great player to draft.

Left to choose between the merely good, the Pirates selected Ball State RHP Bryan Bullington, likely on the premise that good pitchers, especially ones with college experience, are relatively bankable. High-school shortstop B.J. Upton was considered the best overall player in the draft, but he's most likely to be a singles-hitting good-glove player in the bigs. That is, unless the Devil Rays put him in touch with a doctor or two in Mexico.

The fun now begins as teams attempt to sign the top picks. So far the highest selection to be signed is Tigers first-round draftee and eighth overall, SS Scott Moore. As many of the top ten picks were high-school pitchers, look for a lot of guys to threaten to go to college instead of the pros. However, it's likely that 1B Prince Fielder, Cecil's son, will sign quickly, if only because he's sure to remember the bounty of the big-league postgame buffet. Those Fielders, they large.

From the "D'ya Think?" Desk: Reader Andy writes: "Why is it suddenly news that Jose Canseco took steroids? I lived in the Bay Area during the 'Bash Brothers' years, and even A's fans knew Canseco and McGwire had to be 'medicating.' I think sportswriters have known for years, but were scared of talking about it until a player came forward, and now they're all pretending it's all such a surprise."

Well, Andy, remember that many of these same sportswriters believed that you could make a legitimate case for Sammy Sosa as MVP last year, and that it's happy clubhouses that win pennants, and suddenly it isn't so far-fetched that they had no idea how Jose got that big.

And for the record, I do not believe sportswriters are the worst journalists on the planet, especially now that there's apparently a career path where gas station attendants can become technology writers.

about the author

Michael Cox hasn't even given his opinion of stock analysts yet. Suggest colorful adjectives synonymous with "oafish and shiftless" at mc@strikethree.com.