Baseballhead:
Pox on the Fox Box

Michael Cox

Hoo-kay, it's Baseballhead again, brought to you by 3M Ballpark Nachos -- with sauce composed of space-age polymers!

As I slam out this little weekly mash note (and "slam" actually would be the operative term, if you were to ever hear me type), I'm watching the local game on our friendly neighborhood Fox Sports Net cable station (motto: "Look! Keith Olbermann is wearing lederhosen for your enjoyment!"). It's hard, because if I take my eye off the game and a runner should happen to get on base, I'd never be able to tell, because the "Fox Box" is pretty much unusable.

It's actually quite telling that I've come to rely on the Box, which I guess should actually be called the "ESPN Box," because although Fox pioneered it for other sports, the old-guy network actually used it first for baseball. But in my modern, hectic, fast-paced life I can actually write an article, eat dinner and take a phone call, all while keeping abreast of who's on first -- in theory.

In practice, the men-on-base portion of the Sports Net Box is almost impossible to view unless I walk over and put my face real, real close to my 20" screen. This, of course, should not be confused with such inconveniences as a lack of indoor plumbing or a severed arm, but it's irritating, especially in light of the fact that the over-the-air Fox network has a perfectly serviceable box.

If you remember, this is the same bunch who wanted the "look and feel" of their local and national games to be virtually identical just a year ago. No such luck this season -- are they scared their national ratings'll tumble if everyone gets to see the better Box on their local games? Then again, it may require Industrial Light and Magic to make the higher-quality Box transform into player stats (with requisite whooshing noises) a few times per game.

Item: The two Cuban players who were "convinced" to sign with the Dodgers in return for their "freedom" won real freedom from their corporate oppressors on Tuesday (wow, that kind of sounds like the Workers' World Weekly -- "come, comrade, together we will control means of production! Rice and fat for all!"). Commish Selig actually made the right move, ruling that the Boys O' Blue held illegal tryout camps and took advantage of the two, signing them for below (way below) market value.

It seems like a simple story -- team illegally meets players, team illegally signs players, players get agent, agent tells players they were suckered, players blow the whistle -- but there's something else that seems odd. Although Juan Carlos Diaz and Josue Perez were signed in 1996 and 1997, respectively, there was no complaint until this season. Think about it: they were signed by the Peter O'Malley-era Dodgers, but didn't complain until Fox had replaced most of the organization's upper management and (possibly) ended an era of emphasis of raising the talent on the farm.

Could it be that Diaz and Perez realized that their dream of rising to the level of their talent in a family-run organization was over, and they might as well look for their reward now? Sure, it seems a stretch, but they appear to have had an agent for a while, and surely he'd be the one to want to complain.

Don't get me wrong -- the team's conduct was underhanded and possibly despicable (Mr. O'Malley, phone call from a Mr. Angelos), but the timing is very, very odd.

Item: Darryl Strawberry's wife chided fans and the press this past week for not supporting her husband after his drug and sex convictions, which she called illnesses and equated to his recent colon cancer (somehow, I can't see even the Yanks dedicating this season to sex addiction, at least until they get Wade Boggs back).

However, Mrs. Strawberry made no mention of his other "illnesses." First is the anger-management problem which has caused him to consistently be one of the first out of the dugout after a teammate is beaned. Another is the inability to tell the truth about his possession of cocaine and solicitation of an undercover police officer, even at the expense of a relative who he accused of actually owning the coke before coming clean (albeit in a way that will be graciously expunged from his permanent record).

Of course, where there's drugs and/or sex, there'll be late-night talk-show monologue overkill, and that certainly has been the case. However, since we here cover baseball, and Straw still fancies himself a player, we have a few words for Craig Kilborn: Lay off Straw, OK? We'll take it from here, as soon as we can think of a way to work in Tony Phillips.

Item: Last but not by any stretch least, Seattle's Kingdome hosted its final big-league game on Sunday, bringing back memories of many years of games which could only be called "big league" solely on the basis of the body which sanctioned said games.

However, the coming of Ken Griffey Jr. rang in true pro ball in Seattle, and now the coming of the new Safeco Field rings in an actual baseball experience. Not since 1969 has Seattle had outdoor big-league ball, and most people who can remember seeing a Pilots or old-PCL Rainiers game at Sick's Stadium generally begin babbling incoherently midway through the tale.

The Kingdome did serve its sole purpose -- bringing baseball to the Northwest -- but it did so in a very un-baseball-like way. Without any daylight whatsoever, the sense of outside time was lost at the dome. Everything echoed, and echoed again. Sure, in '95, the volume of the crowd noise almost beat the Yankees all by itself, but that was one week in 22.5 years. Most of the time that echo only amplified the restless rumble of a smallish crowd failing to be entertained.

Ushers were old, and by and large, cranky. Anyone attempting to sit in his seat for over five minutes after last pitch was rudely given the bum's rush, sometimes aided by a cop. Sure, the concourse is gridlocked, but get the hell out of that seat. Concessions were substandard, comparable only to those at Veterans Stadium in their should-be-shut-down-for-multiple-violations-ness (and surprise, surprise -- both were run by Ogden entertainment).

All the good moments at the Kingdome occurred between the lines, for there was nothing else good about the Kingdome. Safeco Field will be different -- there'll actually be a reason to sit for a few minutes after the game, even if the outside going is smooth. Fresh air, green grass, knowing what the weather's like and if it's dark out or not. Actually needing a beer because it's hot outside.

I've often said that they could play beer league ball at Wrigley Field and a crowd would show up. The Mariners' new park (and the Giants' and the Astros' next year) may not hold quite that much allure, but if the ticket was cheap enough, well...

about the author

Michael Cox got so weirded out by not even mentioning how bad major league umpires are that he fainted dead away after completing the above article. Offer smelling salts or John Kruk's old sanitary socks at mc@strikethree.com.