Friday, September 21, 2012

The Escobar Escapade

As I worked on a new blog discussing the NHL lockout, this whole Yunel Escobar business went down and I immediately decided that since the the work stoppage in the NHL isn't going to end anytime soon, it could wait. But I also decided that in the wake of the media barrage that followed that it would probably be smart to wait for things to calm down a bit before giving the world my take. Here it goes.

When I first read the story of how Escobar played an entire game with a gay slur written in Spanish across his face, I was confused. I couldn't understand how incredibly stupid someone could be to publicly display that phrase. Convinced there was more to the story, I did what I often do: I dug deeper.

As I sifted through the various stories about the incident, I came across an interview with a Spanish professor who essentially equated the use of that phrase amongst Spanish speaking friends to saying "you are a wuss" or "you are weak" in English. Okay, I thought, so if you're with your Spanish speaking buddies, that word doesn't really mean anything overly offensive. But you aren't hanging out with your friends in Havana, you're playing baseball in Toronto, a place with a large and active gay community where that particular word is sure to cause outrage.

Coming to something of an understanding of why Escobar decided to write that on his eye black, the next question was how did this happen? How did he make it onto the field with that written on his face? How did 20 other players, 5 coaches, and the manager not notice over the course of the game that he had that written across his face? Was it a prank gone awry? Was he disliked by his teammates to a point that someone did this to try to get him run out of town? This was the question that bothered me more than the act itself because I sensed that this incident was the tip of the iceberg, was a harsh indication of a bigger problem that I was acutely aware of.

I was somewhat surprised by the fierce outcry that followed on the internet and on the radio. My initial reaction was that Escobar had to go, but I had to take into account that I was ready to see him go at the deadline due to his frustratingly selfish and subpar play. To my surprise many people were ready to, and still advocate, sending him packing. When it was announced the Blue Jays had suspended him for three games, the outrage was elevated to another level.

Then came the press conference, that most would agree was a trainwreck that made the whole situation worse. Escobar, who curiosly played the "me no speaky English" card, sounded exactly like a teenager in the principal's office, like a kid who got caught doing something he shouldn't have. Two things stuck out to me in the press conference. The first was the insistance by Escobar that he didn't mean anything offensive by the phrase, followed by answering the question "what did you mean by it?" by repeating what he kept saying throughout, that he meant nothing by it and that he had nothing against gays. So my initial confusion with the story became unfounded, Yunel Escobar really is that stupid.

The second thing that stuck out was manager John Farrell stating that he saw that Escobar had something written in his eye black, but didn't think anything of it because he did it all the time. Umm, what? You have seen him go onto the field with things written on his face before and never done anything about it? When I thought about Farrell's response to that question and went back to my original question of how no one else noticed for nine innings, another thought came to me: maybe no one did anything because no one on the bench cared.

The next day, it all came into focus. While discussing the incident on Prime Tiem Sports, Gregg Zaun went on a full-on rant, and everything he said made all the little things I had noticed over the course of the season make sense. Zaun explained, in a nutshell, that the Blue Jays clubhouse is a consequence free environment, where you can do things you aren't supposed to do as a baseball player and nothing will happen. And as much as it pains me to say this, I think Zaun is right on the money. (A more detailed account of Zaun's rant can be found here: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/sports/zaun-rips-blue-jays-from-top-to-bottom/article4553442/?cmpid=rss1 )

Over the course of the season, and especially in the last few months, I've noticed the Blue Jays players doing a lot of things that professional baseball players don't ordinarily do. Baserunning mistakes that a little leaguer knows better than to make. Near collisions in the outfield on routine fly balls. A certain shortstop constantly drifting into shallow left or center field and snatching popups that the outfielder could easily get to. One player losing not one, not two, not three, not four, but five fly balls in the sun before anyone says anything to him about his sunglasses. Arguing with umpires. Not running out ground balls.

Zaun's rant along with all these repeated mistakes on the baseball field shed some light on the fact that for the most part these young players that the Blue Jays have so expertly marketed over the course of the season don't care. They don't act like professionals. They don't need to worry about consequences because there are none.

The inmates are running the asylum.

When you boil it down, all this says about Escobar specifically is that he is incredibly immature, amazingly stupid and, despite the fact that he will be 30 in November, he still has a lot of growing up to do.

I think the same can be said about the Blue Jays team as a whole.

-matt

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Why?


Everyone plays for a reason. The reason for most is obvious, the will to win. Some play for exercise, others play simply for the opportunity to have some fun with their friends.

I play for all of those reasons, but surprisingly, despite the intensity I generally play with, none of that is the driving motivation that keeps me coming back the ball diamond or the hockey rink time and time again.

Even from a young age I've never really been overly competitive. Most would be confused to hear this given the level of intensity I generally play most sports with. That isn't to say I don't want to win because everyone does, but at the end of the day, when I reflect back on games, it isn't the win or the loss that I look back on.

Why I really played baseball and hockey and other sports was difficult to articulate. That driving force was something I couldn't ever really put into words.

Several years ago while watching the final episode of Battlestar Galactica, Sam Anders, an elite pyramid player, has a flashback to an interview he did during the latter part of his career in which he was asked if he felt that not winning a championship would leave his career incomplete.

This was his response:

"You wanna know the truth? I don't really care about the stats, or the cup, or the trophy or anything like that. In fact, even the game's not that important to me, not really. What matters to me is the perfect throw, making the perfect catch, the perfect step and block. It's perfection, that's what it's about. It's about those moments when you can feel the perfection of creation, the beauty of physics, the wonder of mathematics, the elation of action and reaction, and that is the kind of perfection that I want to be connected to."

(youtube clip of the interview here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48_xPLVZxKo)

I'm far from a perfect person, and I that will probably never change, but every so often on the ball field, the hockey rink, the basketball court, or whatever other sporting arena I find myself on gives you a chance to experience perfection. It's an opportunity that rarely presents itself in everyday life the same way it does in the heat of competition.

Sliding across for that perfect pad save on a one timer, arriving at the last possible moment for that shoestring catch, those are the moments that I play for. The perfect slide into third to avoid a tag. The perfect glove save off a hard wrister from the slot. The perfect hit between the shortstop and third baseman. The perfect throw from the outfield to gun a guy down at the plate. It's the pursuit of perfection that drives me.

Maybe it's fitting that Anders turned out to be a robot in the end, and maybe that says something about me (maybe I'm a Cylon!), but it's the truth. It's what I truly love about sports. Yeah I want to win, yeah I want to have fun, but I also relish those opportunities to be perfect, albeit for a brief moment in time.

-matt

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Best Time of Year

It has been a hectic few months for me, hectic months that included a move three thousand five hundred kilometres away from home. Suffice to say this move has curtailed my usual sporting activities since I hopped on an airplane in the middle of January, especially since I had to leave my hockey and baseball gear behind .. at least for the time being.

In the past few weeks things have cooled down, and luckily this has happened just in time for my favourite time of year. Normally when April rolls around, the snow melts and my hockey season ends, allowing my body to heal up from stopping pucks. During this time I can kick back and enjoy the best time of year for any sports fan. The NHL season winds down and the playoffs start, spring training ends and the MLB season kicks off, and when neither of those are entertaining enough, I might ... might check out the NBA playoffs.

Whether because both of my teams stunk or because I'm just getting sick of consantly being bombarded with hockey, I just didn't really follow hockey the way I usually do. When one of my friends asked me yesterday who I thought would win the cup, I had no idea. When I looked at the first round matchups, the battle of Pennsylvania was the only one even remotely intriguing to me. And I don't think I've watched a game start to finish in at least a month.

The more likely explanation is that I'm too excited about baseball this year. In the past two years, I have gotten back to the first game I really grew to love when I was growing up. It's probably not coincidence that the Blue Jays look as though they are ready to make a push for the post season, something I haven't seen in almost twenty years.

So as sixteen NHL teams begin their quest for the Stanley Cup, which will always remain the best trophy in sports no matter how much I love baseball, I have begun a different sort of quest. I've dubbed it the Quest for 800. The goal, as lame as it may sound, is to witness 800 innings of Blue Jays baseball this season, either on television, the radio, or in person. The latter of course is highly unlikely having been exiled in northwestern Alberta, but if I make my way to Ontario during the season, I will be spending an afternoon or two at the SkyDome.


My friends question how I can do that, wondering how I can sit and watch or listen to 800 innings, mostly because sitting through an entire game can often be exceptionally boring. To most people. Baseball is a game I could watch all day every day. Having grown up with the game for as long as I can remember, I see more going on than a casual fan.

I once tried to explain to a friend, who claimed he couldn't stand baseball because it was so slow, why it was such a great game. I failed miserably. I couldn't quite explain how the slow speed of the game was what made it so great. The speed of the game gives you the chance to analyze what each team is going to do, whereas a sport like hockey is so fast that the players are reacting in a split second, and you as a fan are reacting as well.

Will the pitcher throw a fastball? Will it be in the zone? Will the batter swing? Will he hit it? Will the guy at first try to steal second? Trying to answer these questions as the pitcher gets the sign is what draws me to the game. Being able to consciously think about what could happen before the pitch is thrown, then watching the play unfold is so appealing to me. It's almost as if you are in a way participating in the game.

If that makes any sense.

Yeah I'll end up watching a ton of playoff hockey, but when I get home from work most nights for the next six months, I'll be watching the Jays. After six games, I'm at 45 innings, 755 to go. I wish it was a million.

-matt