Pete Rose and the Hall

A media report from the New York Daily News in late July suggested baseball Commissioner Bud Selig may finally lift the lifetime ban on former Cincinnati Reds star (and disgraced manager) Pete Rose.

It is an injustice that is long overdue being rectified.

This is not to suggest for a moment that Rose should not have been punished severely for his alleged–and now proven–involvement in betting on sporting events while he was manager of the Reds. That he also bet on baseball, and perhaps his own team, had the potential to damage the integrity of the game, and should have been harshly dealt with.

It was, by the former, late Commissioner Bart Giamatti.

Since the initial allegations, investigations and suspension, Rose has not been allowed to be involved officially in baseball at any level. He was present when his son, Pete Junior, earned his first major league hit many years ago, but his formal appearances, other than at non-MLB-sponsored autograph shows, were few and far between.

Rose denied many times he bet on baseball. But that story changed as the years went by, as the possibility of his ever being enshrined in the Hall-of-Fame diminished year-by-year while he continued to deny the obvious.

Rose may not have been the most humble or likeable guy in baseball, but he is not alone in that regard in his baseball, or professional sports for that matter.

At the end of the day, there are many reasons Rose should be allowed some standing, at least, in the baseball community:

- He made a mistake. Not a small one, to be sure, and one that was repeated, clearly. But baseball is filled with individuals who made mistakes and were forgiven. Steve Howe, the former pitcher, was suspended half a dozen times by major league baseball and was always allowed to return to play the game.

- Many see gambling as a disease, a compulsive illness not unlike other kinds of addiction. Surely if it is an illness and can be treated, dealt with and potentially cured, the former athlete can be forgiven.

- Baseball has a history of cheaters prospering. Gaylord Perry acknowledged he threw an illegal pitch (for most of his 20+ year career), and yet he is enshrined in the Hall-of-Fame. Why not Rose?

- Speaking of cheaters prospering, it is inconceivable at best that Selig and the powers-that-be in baseball were unaware that players were using steroids throughout the 90’s and to the present. The late Ken Caminiti, National league MVP in 1996, admitted his own dependence years before his death. That baseball owners and general managers looked the other way when players suddenly bulked up as never before–and when 15-home-run-guys started hitting 40 and 50 home runs a season–is indisputable. It was good business for baseball to ignore the obvious, just as it is now good public relations to have a deathbed-style repentance in an effort to supposedly rid the game of performance-enhancing substances.

- If lying is a reason to keep him out, then every player who has denied using steroids over the past 15 years should be forever off the Hall-of-Fame ballot, given the obvious reliance on various banned or inappropriate substances by so many players over the past 15 or more years.

- To re-state the historical facts, Rose’s error in judgment/illness that caused his suspension occurred after his playing career was over, and when he was managing the Reds. It would be hard to argue he should be in the Hall in the “builder” category, for sure. But as the all-time leader in hits, he clearly deserves induction.

The above does not even include the fact that O.J. Simpson remains a member in good standing in the football Hall-of-Fame, presumably because that league does not judge his actions after his career was over.

History, the social convention of a call to forgiveness–and baseball simply looking at itself in the mirror–should compel Selig to do the right thing.

Maybe Rose will finally end up where he belongs, as a player, in Cooperstown, in 2010.

Fydrich: On being real

The death of Mark Fydrich brings to mind simpler times in the world of professional sports.

When Fydrich embarked on his very brief major-league career in 1976 and was stunningly successful, he caught the tradition-rich sport somewhat off guard. He had a quirky nickname (“the Bird”) and peculiar habits on the field, which have been well-documented (talking to the ball, spending time on his hands and knees re-working the mound, running to congratulate teammates on the field of play…). And while he put off some people, he radiated a boyish enthusiasm which made him popular well beyond his injury-shortened big-league career. He evidently led a simple, hard-working life as an adult. Media reports tell of neighbours who recall him as just another guy, a truly nice man who never played the “I was a somebody” card.

Why was he so popular, then and now? Well, we need only look at the way sports–and athletes–have evolved over the past 30 years to understand some of the reasons why.

Athletes now, while still playing for ‘the love of the game’, are unbelievably well-compensated. Injuries are attentively treated, rehabilitation is precise to ensure an athlete does not return before they are one-hundred per cent fit. (This is not to say that athletes today don’t play with injuries–football and hockey players prove that point regularly.) But it is to say that modern medicine and methods of training and education are simply superior, thankfully, to what was in place 30 years ago.

That said, we also often see athletes as corporations unto themselves. They are media-wary, image-conscious (see Alex Rodriguez), and often surly when the media probes too much. Not that this never occurred in generations past, but it seems ever-more the case these days. Athletes now are in tremendous physical condition (baseball being the exception, in some cases). They come to training camp in shape, not to get in shape.

Things are just very different. Sports is very much, as is often said, a business.

When Fydrich came on the scene, he was the classic wide-eyed rookie. Happily, despite his brief career (he could never duplicate his 1976 season after he hurt his arm in 1977), by all accounts he was a contended individual who was a good guy to the end. He was seen as engaging and joy-filled in his 50’s, much as he was in his 20’s as a ‘star’.

How much would Fydrich be ‘worth’ these days, in crass economic terms? Hard to say, but talent-wise it would likely start at 15 million a year. In terms of what he would mean to baseball in terms of goodwill off the field (no need for performance enhancers, an engaging, extroverted and genuinely friendly personality) the sky would be the limit.

This doesn’t even touch what he would earn as a corporate spokesperson.

In the 70’s, baseball was in a bit of a slide, as I recall. Because of the courage of Curt Flood, and after him the impact of union boss Marvin Miller and the court cases leading to player free agency, the game was changing. The game was popular, but football–both college and professional–was clearly surpassing baseball in terms of overall popularity.

Fans were still coming out to the ballparks, but buying tickets to a game was not hard. In Detroit, if I remember correctly, the Tigers might draw 10,000 or so to a game, depending on the opposition. That season that Fydrich joined them and created a storm, 50,000 would show up to watch him in action. Every time. Non-baseball fans went. He was that much of an attraction, a curiosity, a star, a draw. He must have made the Tigers a ton on the “bottom line” that season, as he was likely drawing a rookie salary of ridiculously small proportions compared with the modern day.

I didn’t know Fydrich and never had the opportunity to interview him in the years I was involved in sports broadcasting. Looking back, I wish I had. Un-rehearsed and natural, likeable and delightful in good times and bad, he was unlike most of what had followed.

Today, we tend to knock that naturalness out of our young athletes. Make them corporate, dull, rehearsed. It is easy to understand, as the media have a long history of falling very quickly in–and out of–love with young “stars”.

Fydrich leaves a mark, as good people do. Not, perhaps, because he was a baseball ‘star’, but because he never played that part.

Gillick sets an unusual example in sharing credit

Often, the first thing new Coaches or General Manager’s do when they take over from a “fired” or displaced predecessor is directly - or subtly - comment on all the work that needs to be done to rebuild the organization.

By making this claim publicly in the first days of their administration (much like an incoming political party who claims that things are much worse than they feared when they took office and “saw the books”, therefore they can’t afford to do what they promised they would do during the election campaign), it sets the expectation bar so low that any progress is seen as major improvement under their watch.

So it was refreshing to hear Philadelphia Phillies General Manager Pat Gillick give credit to Ed Wade, his predecessor as GM of the National League pennant-winning Phillies. So often when a team succeeds, you don’t hear about the earlier Coaches or Managers who actually also helped build the squad’s success.

Gillick’s comments reinforce the notion I’ve long held about him.

More than 30 years ago, when I was a young nobody working in radio on the smallest station in the Toronto radio market, the Toronto Blue Jays were the new expansion team. The team, under ‘PR’ oriented President and General Manager Peter Bavasi, was very aware of building the team’s profile, even with small-time radio folks with no “influence” such as myself. I was able to interview, at length, all the names in the Toronto front office, including Bavasi, manager Roy Hartsfield and of course Gillick, who had moved over from the Yankees organization, if I remember correctly. Gillick, now 71, was then an up and coming baseball guy. He was approachable, smart and worth interviewing because he had something to say. He became GM in Toronto and built the Jays into a World Series Champion.

My work took me to other situations and I never stayed in touch with Gillick. But I also recall that, somewhere along the way, my eldest son, then in Grade 7, sent Gillick a letter asking some questions for a school project. Gillick actually wrote back with some comments. While he didn’t disclose any state secrets, it was no form letter and I was impressed with the fact the he actually took the time to respond to specific questions posed by a 12-year-old kid. Gillick would not have been doing this because he “knew” me. He didn’t. He was simply the kind of person who would take the time to write back to a kid.

Gillick has been one of those universally respected guys in major league baseball for 30 years. Ed Wade would be among those who could tell you why.

Buckner earns his due... far too late

I’m so pleased that Bill Buckner was recently recognized before a Red Sox game and given a long ovation by the local fans.

It has troubled me for years that one play from his career, his late inning error in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, has been the one mark on his career that is constantly brought up.

In my memory, Buckner was the kind of player who could be on my team any day. Tough, he played with and through injuries. A lifetime batting average close to .300. Played hard and well for many years.

Unlike many of the ballplayers of the last 15 years, he was not, to anyone’s knowledge, a cheater by any standard.

Yet, he made one “error” in a game that Sox were not necessarily going to win anyway, and he was—and is—vilified by arm chair observers.

He and his family suffered through the aftermath. I quote at length from a recent Associated Press story:

The former first baseman knew the same old questions would crop up about that play 22 years ago that has been replayed on television hundreds of times. At first, he turned down the team's request. A few days later he agreed to return to Fenway Park for the first time since 1997 when he was batting coach with the Chicago White Sox.

"I really had to forgive," he said after collecting himself, "not the fans of Boston per se, but I would have to say, in my heart, I had to forgive the media..."
Another pause, this one for 10 seconds, before he continued, "...for what they put me and my family through. So I've done that. I'm over that. And I'm just happy that I just try to think of the positive. The happy things."

And not about the night of Oct. 25 in Shea Stadium when Mookie Wilson's ground ball rolled through his legs in the 10th inning. It capped a three-run rally and drove in the winning run in the New York Mets 6-5 win that forced a seventh game.

The Mets won the final game 8-5 and Boston's streak of no championships since 1918 continued. That drought ended in 2004, and then the Red Sox made it two championships in four years.

Buckner, a .289 hitter in 22 years with more than 100 RBIs in two of his three full seasons with Boston, wasn't the only Red Sox player who failed in the last two games of the 1986 Series. To focus on just one play is "the ugly part of sports," he said.

"I don't think that in society in general that's the way we should operate. What are you teaching kids? Not to try because if you don't succeed then you're going to buried [sic], so don't try?"

The Mets already had tied the game at 5 in the 10th against Calvin Schiraldi and Bob Stanley before Wilson hit the ball to Buckner. And the Red Sox led 3-0 after 5 1/3 innings of Game 7 before the Mets tied it against Bruce Hurst in the bottom of the sixth and nicked Schiraldi for three runs in the seventh.

"You can look at that series and point fingers in a whole bunch of different directions," Buckner said. "We did the best we could to win there and it just didn't happen and I didn't feel like I deserved" so much blame."

"If I felt like it was my fault, I'd step up to the plate and say, 'hey, if I wasn't here the Red Sox would have won this thing,' but I really can't do that so I think some of it is unjustly directed my way," he said. "I'm pretty tough mentally, but the hardest part was with my family and my kids and I'm still dealing with it."

Since I work with a lot of young athletes, I want to focus in particular on one of Buckner more poignant comments:

"I don't think that in society in general that's the way we should operate. What are you teaching kids? Not to try because if you don't succeed then you're going to buried, so don't try?"

Amen.

Here was a guy, good enough to be starting and playing in the World Series, who had a near Hall-of-Fame career, who simply made an error on a ball that didn’t quite bounce the way he expected it to bounce.

It is so easy when you’ve never played the game at a high level to criticize someone when they make a mistake at a “key moment” in a game. I’ve done it myself, for sure.

But the reaction to Buckner and his error in the ’86 World Series was so unfounded, so unfair, that it is heartwarming to see that he has been able to speak so eloquently about it, years later.

The media and its need to criticize in cases like this should not be easily forgiven. But apparently Buckner has, and he is a better person for having done so than those who have put him down over the years.

Maybe the rest of us can learn something. Or if it’s too late for us, at least maybe our kids can distinguish between what’s truly important, and what’s not, in sports, and in life.

Buckner and the ’86 Red Sox did not win the World Series. But for me, he is a champion.

A damaging double-standard

"Rocker rats out Texas
John Rocker claims he flunked a drug test ordered by Major League Baseball in 2000 and that he, Alex Rodriguez and other Texas Rangers were advised on how to effectively use steroids"

It’s revealing how the above media headline blares "Rocker rats out Texas"….

As we have mentioned often in this space, many in the media hate it when athletes "say nothing". Yet, when an athlete does step "outside the box" and say something outside the realm of the bland or ordinary, he or she is often condemned by those same media folks.

In this circumstance, we have a former high-profile major-leaguer stating that, basically, clubs knew about steroid use years ago. This is no real shock to anyone, of course.

Can we really believe that baseball commissioner Bud Selig was totally unaware of baseball’s bulked up athletes hitting balls farther than ever before, and home runs in greater numbers than ever before?

But the point here is this: athletes are glorified by the same media who had to know that many of these sporting heroes of the last 20 years have had big-time, shall we say, "help", from performance-enhancing supplements.

In the same breath, reporters and writers criticize athletes for lying through their teeth about steroid usage. (Many of us have witnessed the recent Clemens fiasco before Congress—his was simply a different approach than Mark McGuire’s "I’m not here to talk about the past" denials when the former slugger had his turn a couple of years ago.)

Yet, the media also hammer an athlete like Rocker for being a squealer, or a "rat".

If somebody doesn’t step forward and speak about what actually occurred, whether it be Jose Canseco or John Rocker or anyone else, how will people ever really know what has gone on in club houses?

Is the media philosophy actually supportive of the "old boys network" approach, where everyone covers up the truth and covers up for each other?

That’s how we ended up with baseball in the mess it is in, the world of sprinting with no credibility, the Tour de France in shambles, pro football with weekly drug suspensions announced, without fanfare.

In the above circumstances, everyone shut their eyes – and mouths-- and stood together in a big lie.

Unless, as in the case of a "star" such as Andy Petite, you face legal scrutiny and have to speak with the police or Congress. Then you may feel it is necessary to speak up and speak the truth, and the media will not give you a difficult time.

But if you’re just a mediocre ex-player, or "disgraced" ex-players such as Canseco or Rocker, you’re a "snitch" if you speak out about what you did or saw.

Quite the double-standard, at best.

Baseball just can't save itself from its own stupidity...

Baseball is a passion in Missouri, evidenced by not only the tremendous history of, and fan support for, the defending World Series Champion St. Louis Cardinals but also by the continuing interest in the struggling Kansas City Royal franchise-- years past their 1985 World Series glory.

In recent years the Royals have had (relatively speaking) low payrolls and non-competitive teams.

Yet fans still go to the beautiful ballpark (formerly Kauffman Stadium, after the respected former owner of the club) that is the home of the Royals, because they love baseball and love the Royals.

Now, the Royals are trying to build with youth, and lots of it.

They recently faced a dilemma. Their first draft choice in the 2007 summertime baseball draft (second overall) is a high school player represented by Scott Boras, an agent well-known for pushing the ‘demand envelope’ for unproven players.

That’s his “job”, of course: to get as much as he can for his clients.

But it does make a person wonder what the thinking process is for the young player and his family. In this instance, we are told, according to various media reports, that the player was seeking more than 3 million dollars as a signing bonus.

Keep in mind this young man, while projected to be an outstanding pro, has played only at the high school level.

Under the terms of the Collective Bargaining Agreement, if the player is not signed by the deadline, he goes back into the draft pool for 2008, provided he attends a Junior College and not a school in the NCAA.

Presumably he would then go to college for a year, and be drafted by a team that can afford to pay him what he wants the next time around.

Sadly, we have again hit a time when the salary expectations of athletes have become simply outrageous. We see salaries in the NBA, for example, that are long-term --and absurd. In so many cases we hear, within a year of the signing, that that NBA player can’t be traded because no one wants --or can afford-- his outlandish contract.

The NHL is clearly walking down the very same path that led to a lockout only three years ago. Salaries are climbing again, and for a league that can’t get a decent TV contract south of the border—much less find any real fan support even in markets where they actually have teams—this will surely prove a recipe for future disaster, however much revenues allegedly are growing.

And then there is baseball, where the players union and Bud Selig nearly killed the game in 1994, and instead of juiced balls produced juiced players to ‘save’ the game through the later1990’s and into the current era.

This is a sport that refuses to establish a legitimate salary cap, where one team can spend 200 million to buy players and other teams such as the Royals can barely field a Triple A- caliber team.

This sport has no effective rookie salary cap to prevent the absurd request of 18 year-olds who think they are “worth” millions of dollars before they even step on a pro field.

Who will step up—a player, an agent, a family, a commissioner—and say this is insane, utterly insane?

This is not to say this young player won’t become a fine professional player. In all likelihood, he will.

But if he does become a tremendous player, he will earn his millions in due course.

If he doesn’t, why over-pay before the young man establishes legitimate market value?

Here’s hoping that young ballplayers such as the one in question, if they choose to turn down huge money after being drafted because their agent feels it isn’t “enough”, head off to Junior College and play for free for a season, and then stay healthy. (To close the loop on this story, this particular young player signed for $4 million dollars at the signing deadline, almost a million dollars more than Major league Baseball’s “slotting” system suggested for the second overall selection.)

We’ve all heard the stories of players (and in some cases known players) who waited and waited and sat out for that big payday, only to suffer a serious injury and see their market value plummet overnight.

Hopefully this and other such stories will have a happier ending than at.

When is a lie the truth?

A lot of my professional work over the past 20 years has been around helping athletes and coaches at all levels—amateur and professional—understand their professional responsibilities, be aware of the needs and realities of the media, and communicate/navigate through media and public scrutiny with as much integrity and credibility as they possibly can.

Whether these individual clients meet with fans one-on-one, interact with the media daily or occasionally, or encounter more formal public speaking opportunities, the ability to communicate clearly and credibly is vital to their off-field and off-ice endeavors—and success—for a whole host of reasons.

This brings us to a recent situation involving Major League Baseball’s Toronto Blue Jays.

Revealing and/or formally reporting sports injuries is handled a little different from sport to sport.

As gambling is vital to the popularity of pro football in the United States, the NFL has long had a firm policy that teams must disclose all—even minor—injuries the week of the next scheduled game, and to declare the statistical likelihood of a particular athlete being available to play in that game.

Hockey, on the other hand, has a long history of coaches deliberately being vague about the severity of injuries; in recent years it has become a running joke about whether a player has an “upper-body” or “lower-body” injury. NHL players take great pride in playing through pain, but coaches don’t like the opposition to know what injured area they should be going after during a game.

Baseball is a little different. Some guys play with injuries, of course, but teams don’t generally make a point of hiding injury information. A hang-nail puts some guys on the 15-day DL in baseball, and Sammy Sosa missed 15 days a few years ago after he sneezed and pulled a muscle, so what’s to hide?

All this said, an ethicist or perhaps a linguist would no doubt have fun with the following story:

Toronto Blue Jays closer B.J. Ryan was placed on the disabled list earlier this season. Evidently the team had claimed the pitcher had back problems dating back to spring training. Last week, General Manager J.P. Ricciardi declared that it was actually the lefty’s elbow, not his back, that was the problem that ultimately landed the player on the 60-day DL.

As mentioned, this sort of thing (not being straightforward about injuries) happens in hockey all the time, though not in football.

Most fans could care less whether it was a player’s back or his elbow. They simply want to know if the guy is too hurt to play effectively.

In a recent Globe & Mail and Canadian Press story, Ricciardi is quoted as denying he ever “lied” about the nature of Ryan’s injury.

In the interview, Ricciardi is quoted as saying, “It was his elbow that was bothering him. So we said it was his back, so we could have a bit more time.”

More time for what, I’m not sure. But whatever his reason, the fact remains that Ricciardi and the Jays organization reported false information regarding the nature of Ryan’s injury.

Remembering again that masking the details of injury is not entirely uncommon, perhaps more troubling than the initial misinformation was Ricciardi’s explanation of his own behaviour. Ricciardi maintains that he did not lie about Ryan’s reason for being on the DL.

In a questionable twisting of words, Ricciardi reportedly made a point of telling the media, “It’s not lies if we know the truth.”

A lot of people have probably tried to understand that sentence, wondering if that is really what Ricciardi intended to say.

Assuming Ricciardi said what he meant to say, a question for him might be: If you do know the truth and don’t report the truth, and in fact report something else, is that not a lie? In fact, is that not the definition of a lie?

Regardless, it is fair to suggest that whatever equity this General Manager has tried to establish – and milk—with the media and fans over the past several years may be harmed more by the use of intentionally disingenuous language, than by a long losing streak.

Those two things together are an even worse cocktail when it comes to his believability and credibility with the media—and fans.

As I often remind my clients, it generally takes years to build your credibility, but only a few seconds to throw it away.