Muhammad Ali (1942-2016)

I'd been laboring over a post about the late comedian Lenny Bruce, when the news broke that Muhammad Ali's health was failing. When I went to bed last night Ali was still in the hospital battling a repertory ailment (one of a slew of illnesses he'd had to fight over the past three decades). This morning, he was gone.

The image that I saw accompany the story most often, from the Chicago Tribune this morning, where I first saw confirmation of his passing, to any number of sites on the web was of the iconic shot of him standing over a fallen Sonny Liston. It was their second fight, held on May 25, 1965 in the unlikely locale of Lewiston, Maine.

That photo of Ali (then still known as Cassius Clay), flexing his arm across his chest, built like a Greek god - his handsome, almost boyish face contorted into a mask of rage - roaring like a lion over it's conquered prey, became an icon. It indeed captured the essence of that young lion in his prime: defiant, strong, and proud.

He had already converted to Islam and would shortly make his name change legal and permanent. Like Bruce, a contemporary who's controversial stage act made him subject to arrest for violation of obscenity laws, Ali ran afoul of the law. In his case he refused induction into the military during the Vietnam War. While he didn't lose his freedom like Bruce did on several occasions, his stand cost him three years in the prime of his career. As Lenny Bruce found it almost impossible to get a gig, Ali couldn't book a fight since no state would grant him a boxing license. With his passport revoked, going overseas to box wasn't an option. He was a polarizing figure, and there were those who initially refused to call him by his Muslim name. His arch rival Joe Frazier always called him Clay just to get under his skin.

If he never had converted to Islam - allying himself with the Nation of Islam - or changed his name you could argue he probably wouldn't have gotten drafted to begin with. But he still would have been controversial. He was brash, quick witted, and boastful. He belittled his opponents verbally before humbling them physically in the ring. He said what was on his mind. Sure, some of it was show business: he had a lot of promoter in him, as well as fighter. But most of it wasn't an act. It was all Ali.

He would come back, becoming the first, and so far only, man to win the heavy weight crown three times - when being the Champ still meant something. I saw Ali relatively late in his career, vividly remembering him win that last title, reclaiming it from Leon Spinks. And I saw him when he could still jab and duck, weave and sting verbally. It was something to hear, and the saddest thing is that it's been three decades since the world saw and heard the legend in full.

This is but a thin outline. I'll be back with a deeper appreciation for Muhammad Ali. For now, I'll leave you with the image that tells the story.

Derek Jeter Begins His Long Goodbye

Now that I am a man I think like a man, and follow sports like a man. Long ago I left behind the childhood wonder that went along with winding my way up the ramps and escalators of the old Stadium with two of my older brothers. We had left the bright late spring sunlight to enter into the Stadium's dark corridors, made claustrophobic by the crush of the crowd flowing in a chaotic swirl. Inside I took in the smells of roasting peanuts, beer, cigars, cigarettes and an over used men's room, the aromas, smells and stench all mingling in the air. Once at our level we looked for our section. As we walked through the darkness I peeked up the ramps, the sunshine breaking through, back lighting the fans milling around like something out of Rafael's Deliverance of St. Peter. All I could see was the top of the upper deck and the clear blue skies. We arrived at our section, went up the narrow tunnel that lead us back into sunlight. It was like standing on a cliff, the grand stands seemed so steep. fighting my natural fear of heights, I was overwhelmed by the green of the field, the brown of the clay diamond, the blue of the seats and the massiveness of the stadium. I had seen it a hundred times on TV, but here I was. By the time I was ten I clearly understood that what I saw on television wasn't reality. But this was real, and it was spectacular. And it was my heart that beat with wonder, my mind was racing to catch up.

But now I am a man, and baseball is about free agents, syringes, urinalysis and suspensions. Statistics are the measure of the player, and managers carry three inch binders of data (how the utility infielder hits against left handed Laplanders on Tuesday's after the trade deadline in odd years when the Democrats control the House). We don't believe there's such things as clutch, choke and hustle. It's all about OBP, WAR, WHIP, pitch counts and lefty righty match ups; just the things that capture a boy's imagination. So I follow still, but without the wonder.

Then yesterday Derek Jeter announced his retirement at the end of this season. I was again a boy, this time sad that a player that exemplified clutch, hustle and defied choking was soon to patrol the clay no more.

This day was bound to come. All athletic careers end too soon, and as adults we knew that Derek Jeter's was on borrowed time. The human body can only take so much wear and tear, even in a non contact sport like baseball, and his recent injuries over the last few seasons have only gotten more and more difficult to comeback from as he's gotten older. So our adult minds told us he can't go on much longer, or that maybe be should have walked away already. The adult says it's time to get younger, especially at shortstop. The adult says it's strictly business.

But when the news started to flash across the Internet I felt like a kid again, unabel to comprehend that people get old and can't do today what they were once able to. And Jeter made you believe he would play forever. Unlike Mariano River who hinted for years before announcing his retirement that he was ready to walk away at any time, Jeter always acted like he was going to patrol the middle infield at Yankee Stadium for another ten seasons. He had been injured before, and the line was always the same; Of course I'm coming back from this. No doubt I'll play shortstop (I dare you to try and run someone else out there). And of course I'll play at the same level as when I came up to the Big Team for good in 1996. So while our adult heads told us the calendar and medical realities made such claims practically impossible, our hearts still beat the rhythms of youthful wonder, wanting to believe that Derek Jeter, and we by extension, were never going to wake from this glorious dream that his career's been.

For Yankee fans Derek Jeter has always been more than the sum of his stats and fantasy points. He came along at a time when the Yankees were the baseball version of Jerry Jones' Cowboys; a franchise making a lot of noise but living on their past glory, never coming close to winning it all, with a front office that didn't seem to have a clue. The Yankees of the eighties to early nineties were a mess. GM Gene "Stick" Michael was the mastermind who brought pride back to a tired franchise. Jeter was one piece of a big puzzle Stick was putting together, but in a particular way he embodied the hustle and commitment to excellence New York fans were starving for since Thurman Munson died (another player whose value couldn't be calculated on a spreadsheet). In his prime he was never considered the best player in the Majors, he never hit the most homers, he never even won a regular season MVP. But he was the leader of Joe Tore's Yankees before he became the Captain. He hit home runs when they made a difference and was the MVP when games mattered the most; in October. He did it all with respect for the game and a desire to win that defies mathematical formulas, but comes from the heart.

I'll have more to write as the Farewell Tour unfolds. For now, for at least this season, I'll remember to put my adult mind on a shelf as I watch the Captain say his goodbyes. Because baseball careers are short, as is life it self. If we get caught up in the techno-jargon of bloodless statistics we miss the poetry of hustle and clutch. If we get distracted by the sideshows of PED's and lawsuits we too quickly forget the wonder of green grass, brown clay and warm days in the grandstands with your brothers.

Jeter at 3000

Anyone who knows me knows I am an obnoxious Yankee fan.  Yes, they are the Evil Empire, emblematic of all that is wrong in baseball; how they contribute to the gross income disparity between big market and small market teams, how they collect All - Stars during free agency time like some people collect stamps, the high ticket prices and the even more ridiculously priced food stuffs at the concession stands.  Most of all what non Yankee fans hate is the sense of entitlement we devotees of the Pinstripers feel; for us it's the World Series or bust.  Any October that doesn't end with a trip down the Canyon of Hero's is considered a failure. While I don't agree with all the criticisms, even I have to admit that this last one is valid.  It is simply unrealistic to expect to win it all every year, and too many Yankee fans have bought into the hype.  Look, I'm a demanding fan, and lets face it, winning never gets boring, but some years are more special than others, and going a while without winning does make the eventual victory that much more sweet.

The Yankees have won seven World Series in my lifetime.  The two that stand out are 1978 and 1996. Why?  Because those were the two that they weren't supposed to win. '78 was the great comeback year, where they overcame a 14 1/2 game deficit in the division to the Red Sox and a 2-0 hole in the World Series against the Dodgers to win it all. In '96 they had been out of the Series for fifteen years, and hadn't won since that fateful '78 campaign; 18 years in the desert.  I know, you Cub fans have been waiting 103 years, but we Yankee fans have less patience than you all (Think of it this way, your sufferings have helped release many poor souls from purgatory). That '96 group were a bunch of upstarts, with a few solid veterans thrown in.   None of the experts picked them to beat the Atlanta Braves, the dominant team of the decade to that point.  Like the '78 squad they dropped the first two games and then won four strait to take the crown.  Both were sweet because they were both unexpected.  

That '96 campaign was the beginning of the modern Yankee dynasty that saw them win five pennants and four World Series between '96 and '01.  At the heart of that Dynasty was Derek Jeter; the Captain.  He embodied, and still does, all the class that the organization ties to project.  He has always been about putting the team first and the individual second.  He also helped fuel that World Series or bust attitude.  Even when they won I would look at him and see more relief than real joy.  If winning is what you're supposed to do then why celebrate?  No one gets a prize for doing what's expected of them.  He had the demeanor of a business man who just closed a deal, never showing the awe and appreciation of a grown man playing a kid's game and getting payed handsomely for it.  There was satisfaction, to be sure, but it seemed like there was very little joy.  I wondered if the unrealistic expectations and pressure to win kept him from really enjoying the moment.

Saturday Derek Jeter became the 28th player in the 142 year history of Major League Baseball to collect 3000 hits, and the first Yankee to do so.  3000 hits puts a player in the company of the likes of Ty Cobb, Stan Musial, and Willie Mays, just to name three.  Then you think of legends like Babe Ruth, Micky Mantle and Joe DiMaggio who didn't reach that mark.  It is an instant ticket into the Hall of Fame, as long as you didn't do steroids (Rafael Palmiero) or bet on baseball and lied about it (Pete Rose).  More than seeing him reach one of the big milestones in baseball, it was probably the first time I saw him truly happy on a baseball field.

I was driving back from Massachusetts where I was visiting my parents, more than a little jealous that two of my brothers copped tickets for the game, and heard the play by play on the radio.  It wasn't until I got home that I saw the replay of all his five hits.  What I saw was more than just relief or a business like glint in his eyes.  There was true happiness as well.  The big hit came on an un-Jeter like tape measure  home run.  As he rounded first base there was a hand clap and a big smile that reflected an enthusiastic little boy more than the cold professional we usually see.  After the game he admitted to feeling the pressure, something he never did in the past.  What we saw on Saturday was a more human DJ than before; prideful, in a good way, of his accomplishments, grateful to his parents and teammates and truly touched by the response of the fans.

Winning will still be the number one thing for both the Yankees and Derek Jeter.  He said that it would have been awkward dealing with the post game adulation had they lost.  But for once I was glad to see that he enjoyed the ride.  And any professional athlete should.  The time they have to play that little boy's game is short, and very few even get the opportunity.   So play the game to win, for sure, but remember to appreciate the gifts that the competition brings.

I'll have more to say about Derek Jeter and his career soon, especially concerning the things I heard on sports radio in the weeks leading up to the big day.

Pope Benedict, The Jews and the Death of Jesus

 

Note:  I do need to make one correction on something I said in the video.  I mentioned that all the popes going back to at least Pius IX (1846-1878) have tried to clarify the Church's teaching on who was responsible for Jesus' death, speak in a conciliatory way about the Jewish people.  I meant to say Pius XI (1922-1939), who condemned anti-Semitism as being contradictory to discipleship in Christ, and called all Christians, by virtue of the fact that we claim the Patriarch Abraham as our father in faith, "spiritual Semites." 

Heaven, Hell...and Purgatory

Heaven and Hell?

Fr. Barron comments on Is Hell Crowded or Empty?

I know it looks like I'm shilling for Fr. Barron, but I got an e-mail from a Salesian about a popular book about hell by an evangelical preacher named Rob Hill.  I Saw that Padre Steve put this video up on Da Mihi Animas about Hill's book and figured it was my cue to weigh in myself.  I will eventually; I'm in the middle of reading the Pope's latest volume "Jesus of Nazareth: Part 2,"  and will comment on that first.  Until then, Robert Barron's thoughts on the subject.

Stations of the Cross- The Way of Love

An online Stations of the Cross for those who can't make it to church today.  There are a bunch on You Tube, but I decided to share one that just had a musical accompaniment.

Why Baseball Needs a Salary Cap

I am a Yankee fan.  Let me get that out of the way right from the start, though if you've followed this blog for any length of time you've picked that up already.  I don't care about competitive balance, per say, and I'm not sure the cap brings as much balance as is advertised.  The salary cap in football has not prevented the Detroit Lions from stinking for, oh let's say, the last 50 years or the Steelers from consistently fielding a contender, spare a few seasons in the 80's.  It's worked better in the NBA, but you still have the Lakers and Celtics back on top, just like 1966 and 1986.  Good organizations find a way to use the system they are forced to work in to their advantage, and no amount manipulating from above will cover up incompetence.  But what the cap does is forces stars to be spread around.  Fans follow their team, but they also follow stars.  LeBron James didn't go to Miami to be a star, he brought his star from Cleveland.  Melo has made a name in Denver.  Again, Shaq was bigger than life before going to LA.  In baseball since only a few teams can afford the top flight talent, the big names are all in New York, Boston and St. Louis, and lately Philadelphia.  Chicago should be on that list, but their pro teams have a habit of acting like they're in a small market city.   If there are more known stars left in the playoffs fans are more likely to keep watching once their teams are eliminated.

I love the story of the San Francisco Giants.  A group of cast offs who played together, with a lot of heart, and this morning they are the World Series Champs.  But who knows any of them?  Maybe people know Tim Lincecum, but Buster Posey?  Did anyone know that Edgar Renteria and Juan Uribe were still in the League? People stop watching because they don't know the players.This is why the ratings are down.

The myth in baseball right now is that the big bad Yankees buy the Pennant every year, which is bunk.  Take way the '96 to 2000 seasons, and the last thirty years has seen a wide variety of Series participants from all sorts of places and with a range of payrolls.  An All Star line up does not guarantee success.  If that were the case the Yankees would have dominated the 80's, and would have won more than the two Series' that bookended the last decade.  The Yankees would need a time of adjustment, but if their corporate management is as competent as it seems, they will adjust to the new reality of a salary cap.   Would they be as dominant? Probably not.  But they would still be in the mix more times than not.  And when the Giants, Rangers, Marlins and Tigers make it to the big show, as they inevitably do, people will still be watching because there will be a Star or two that they know and would have followed through the season and the playoffs.

Football is king, and that's just the way it is.  But baseball can make a rebound if it sets up a system that spreads the stars and the spotlight around to league more evenly.

ALCS So Far

The Yankees managed to stay alive for a game six, and my only hope is that this just isn't the last gasp before expiring.  Teams have a way of winning that game five when down 3-1, but it usually ends up just prolonging the agony.  If they can at least force a game 7, it'll make the heartburn worth it.  Of course you have the '58 Yankees and the '79 Pirates who were able to come all the way back.  It's  possible, for sure, but rare.

How do the Yankees do it? Well, Phil Hughes needs to be more consistent.  Since he's pitching on regular rest we won't have to hear the "he's too rested" excuse.  They need to hit in the clutch, take advantage of the opportunities they get. The bullpen can't throw batting practice, turning close games into blowouts the way they did in games 3 and 4.  If they get behind, they have to keep it close.

I don't want to get too far ahead of my self, but if they do get to a game 7, they have to jump on Lee when he shows weakness.  And, contrary to what Mike Francesa said on his show Tuesday, the Yankees were swinging at pitches out of the strike zone, and he was vulnerable at points during the game.  I agree, after the 6th inning it was over; he has the rep of getting stronger as the game goes on and Monday this was the case.  Francesa was at the game, and I saw it on TV, and I understand that it's hard to judge balls and strikes based on the camera angles, but a ball in the dirt is a ball in the dirt, and they were swinging at those.  TV doesn't distort the sight lines that much. That's not a knock on Lee.  The way I look at it he was using his brains as much as his arm Monday. A good pitcher gets in the opponent's head and confuses him to the point he'll swing at pitches he might not otherwise, especially if the pitcher has good movement the way Lee does. But if he keeps going deep into counts again they have to make him pay for it before he gets to that magic point of no return, around the 7th inning.

Of course, we need to play Game 6 first.  So, Friday, here we come.

ALCS: Game 3

Andy Pettitte did what he does; he keeps you close.  He never, even in his prime, had the lights out stuff of a Josh Beckett or Cliff Lee. He always gave up runs, but his mates were able to back him up. In Game six of the 2003 World Series Pettitte pitched good enough to win, but Beckett was simply unhittable that night.  Even though the final was 2-0, the Yankees never mounted any real threat.  That game might as well have been 10-0. Tonight Lee wasn't nearly as good as Beckett that night (though the stat sheet says differently), but good enough to keep the Yankees shaking their heads as they walked back to the dugout one after another following a striking out (I'm not trying to down play Lee's performance; he was incredible.  But Lee was doing it with a lot of slight of hand and guile.  Beckett that night long ago was throwing BB's from the first pitch to the last). They had their chance in the 6th but didn't capitalize.  In the big picture they did what they had to do going into the middle innings; they made Clifton throw pitches, go deep into counts. They got his pitch count up, but they couldn't break through and get into the Texas bullpen, which was their only hope of winning.

And our own bullpen was pitiful, not doing what Pettitte was able to do; that is keeping it close.  It's a shame that a 2-0 nail biter goes into the books as an 8-0 romp.

So tomorrow night we need Burnett to pitch to his potential against an opponent who doesn't have the tenth of the "stuff" he does.  The next game will come down to what Vince Lombardi called mental toughness on the part of the Yankee starter.  If he has it I'm convinced the Yankees win this thing in Texas over the weekend.  If he pitches like he did in the regular season then I wish the Rangers luck against Philadelphia.

ALCS: Game 2

4:00 pm on a Saturday is not a great first pitch time for a priest, what with vigil Masses and the like.  So no, I saw very little of tonight's game, but enough to know that this was a blessing.  I hope all the post LDS hype about the Yankees being a lock for their second trip to the Series in as many years has come to an end.  But I'm no gloomy Gus; splitting in Texas is no disaster.

I can't say that I thought it would happen, but I did fear it would; getting behind by five runs right off the bat once again (excuse the pun).  Needless to say, you can't keep on expecting the Ranger bullpen to cough it up every night.  And now we have Clifton Phifer Lee coming up on Monday night.  OK, again, don't panic.  We have the winingest post season pitcher going for us, we need to find a way to get into their bullpen early.

 PS-NLCS

It was nice to see that Roy Halladay is mortal.  Again, I didn't see much of the game, but from the first couple of innings it looked like he was on and the Freak was going to have a rough night (Tim Lincecum was getting a lot of loud fly ball outs that are usually a prelude to giving up homers).  You can't say that either was terrible, but the Giants were able to get it done.  And from the #8 spot, which in the NL is unforgivable.

So, the AL is knotted up, and the Giants take the surprise lead.  Looks like what Steve "the Schmoozer" Somers calls Serious October Baseball just got a little more serious.

ALCS: Random Thoughts on Game 1

As I sat and watched CC Sabathia shake off the rust in the first inning last night, I tried not to panic. A 3-0 deficit isn't a huge mountain to climb.   I sat with Fr. Sesto, whose been following the Yankees since the days of the Babe, and when CC tagged the runner out at the plate on the wild pitch, he just said, "You know, that might have just saved the game right there."  It didn't look like there was going to be a game to save when Texas scored two more runs in the fourth.  Again, 5-0 is not an impossible lead to overcome, but games like this get out hand pretty easily, and the Yanks just weren't hitting (props to C.J. Wilson).  But I think Fr. Sesto was right, Texas could have broken the game open right there in the first, and the play at the plate allowed them to keep the game manageable. 

I felt a little bad for Ron Washington: every button the guy tried to push in the 8th inning came up empty.  It's one of those moments I question if we've gotten a little too specialized with the pitching match ups.  If a pitcher is getting it done, sometimes you should just stick with him.

If a picture is worth a thousand words what's the photo of Nolan Ryan with President Bush from last night worth?

Win Division Series: CHECK

In the midst of the Provincial Visitation  I did find some time to catch a little bit of  the Yankee dismantling of the of the Twins last night.  Unlike the first two games of the series this was total domination, and as soon as Marcus Thames' homer went out you could see Minnesota's fighting spirit go with it.  They did try to rally, but I never had the sense they were capable of coming back.  It was the same feeling I had after Matsui's homer off Pedro in game six of last year's World Series; the Yankees were too strong and the Phillies just didn't have it in them to respond in kind, as the Twins didn't last night.

That said, I was taken aback by the enthusiasm of some of the New York writers this morning. After a month of bad baseball and all sorts of questions about their age, pitching staff and clutch hitting (or lack there of), you'd think we were talking about the reincarnation of the Big Red Machine. Bill Madden in particular asked rhetorically if we should wonder if there was anyone who could dethrone the defending champs considering how soundly they dispatched the Twinkies.


I think everyone needs to calm down a little.  Like I wrote before, I think the Yanks have as good a chance as anyone of getting out of  the AL alive.  I do feel better about their chances after seeing Andy Pettitte and Phil Hughes pitch so well, but let's not fool ourselves, this is not the '98 team.  They are beatable.  We still need a fourth starter who won't implode after 2 and a 1/3 innings, and the bullpen, while generally solid, can still run hot and cold. 

So I'm cautiously optimistic about the ALCS, no matter the opponent. But it's those Phillies still lurking out there that gives me pause.  DAMN YOUR EYES, RYAN PHELAN!

By Request: Baseball

I wrote a post a few weeks ago thanking everyone for visiting the blog, and asking for suggestions for future topics.  I got exactly one comment; from Padre Steve Leake, suggesting Salesianity, God and baseball.  Well, I have tried to ramp up the Salesianity a bit and getting people closer to God is the point of this whole exercise, so that leaves baseball.  As the playoffs are just around the corner, I'll give my take on the current situation.

I follow the Yankees, which comes as no shock to anyone who knows me, and I try to keep up with the rest of the league.  But this season the it's been tough to do that, what with assignment changes and relics and the like.  Imagine my shock when I saw the Cincinnati Reds won the NL Central for the first time since I was in practical training.  Having lived three years in the Queen City by the River, I can attest that it is a great baseball town when the Reds win (unlike Tampa who can't ever fill their park, even for what are the most important games of their season).  As frugal Mid-Westerners they're not going to pay to see a dog, but give them quality and they'll come out.

As for my Yankees, I think they have as good a chance as anyone of making it out of the AL.  That said, I think any of the teams in the mix has a chance.  The Twins are in the worst shape, in terms of injury, so I guess you'd have to put them lower than the rest.

But once they make it out, what ever team gets to the Series from the AL is going to have to face the Phillies.  And this is not 2009.  Last year they tried to make it with one solid starter and three maybes.  This year they're loaded for bear, and even though Hamels' and Oswalt's win-loss records are so so, their era's are more than solid.  The Yankees made it on three starters and a solid bullpen last year.  Now their rotation is much more vulnerable, and Mo hasn't been Mo (something he usually reserves for meaningless games in April).  If the Phillies had just one more reliable starter against the Yankees the '09 Series would have gone 7, and then who knows.  Game seven is always a gamble.

So as of now, the little boy fan in me says Yankees all the way.  But the grown up prognosticator says; don't bet against the Phillies to make it 2 titles in 3 years.