Hot Dogs, Apple Pie and My Beef with ESPN

Well, I’m ready to tackle the topic of sports - which is something I have avoided since not everyone is as enthusiastic as I am (ahem…i.e. my wife) about the ins and outs of professional sports. Before Dawn became a sports widow, at least for part of the year, it was well known to anyone in my many circles that I was NOT a sports “nut”. A fan…yes, but not to the point of watching, reading and listening as regularly as I do now.

Preface

When it comes to baseball, growing up in NJ, there is this role of divided loyalist we all play since there is no designated Major League Baseball (MLB) team in the Garden State. You become a fan by following one of three processes: 1.) Beyond your own NJ roots you involuntarily assume allegiance to either north or south Jersey similitude, depending on where you live, which will further determine your Jersey/New York or Jersey/Philly identity. 2.) You are uniquely independent enough to choose whatever team you decide is your favorite (typically based on a favorite player in the game) but these situations are rare. Lastly (and most popular) is number 3.) You root for the team your father roots for because; let’s face it, a kid just wants to please his Dad.

My very first memory of baseball centers around what I believe was my first major league game. A trip to Queens, New York, to see the Mets at Shea Stadium, where my Dad told me and my brother to remember "this moment", because the man in center field would soon be in the Hall of Fame. The year was 1973, the last year that Willie Mays played professional baseball. I, of course, had no reference point at 6 years of age to know the significance of that moment, or who this Willie Mays guy was, or even how the Mets were doing that year.

I only knew three things that day…I was at a real baseball game in this HUGE building, my Dad bought me a stuffed Mr. Met doll (although he thoughtlessly bought my brother a souvenir miniature bat made of solid wood which was used menacingly on me and Mr. Met behind my Dad’s back) and lastly, the indelible impression from my Dad that we should remember this moment. I didn’t want to disappoint.

Although I never really excelled in youth sports, as I was a much more intimidated child in every sport than I would ever let on, I did mature into a much better athlete as an adult. Softball being one of my favorites when I can avoid breaking a bone. Thus my love for sports truly began to grow AFTER I finished playing organized kids sports. Thanks, also, in part to my best friend Dave Donegan, I became an avid fan of the NY Giants for several years during high school and college and even jumped on the wagon for Larry Bird and the Celtics during their tumultuous battles against Magic, Kareem and the Lakers. The number of cold Sunday’s in winter sitting in Dave’s front TV room and watching Phil Simms and the original "LT" hand it to the Cowboys all fade together now yet all bring back great memories. Great moments in sports caught live by my very own eyes during impressionable years.

And then…I moved 3000 miles away.

Forging a new life and, unaware to me at the time but would be an impending affront to my friend Dave, new sports allegiances would follow. In my defense I tried very hard to retain my devotion to my homestate teams. I read the newspaper every day and little by little I noticed a trend. First, there was very little coverage of east coast sports in my Arizona paper. Typically just the box scores. No play by play. Not even a game summary. And then, little by little, as the business of pro sports goes, the players that I knew and loved were moving on. In every sport they were retiring, traded or just fading away. Pretty soon I didn’t know any of the names in the box scores. (I couldn’t afford to have cable or subscribe to magazines at the time so for those of you wondering why I didn’t just watch or order them, there ya’ go.) Why, even the network that covered those perpetual losers, The Arizona Cardinals, would not air their home games in their own state unless the games were sold out. Guess how often scorching-hot Sun Devil Stadium would sell out when September and October still register 105-110 degrees? Zilch. Yeah...I just didn’t pay much attention to professional sports anymore. Besides, I was busy either acting, playing music or cooking up a storm to be bothered with pro sports. But somewhere, somehow, I knew something was missing.

So in 1998 when local and beloved sports CEO Jerry Colangelo announced they’d be bringing MLB to Arizona it was like a 40 degree breeze in the sweltering, arid Arizona summer. There was a lot of hype and excitement and it wasn’t lost on me. I watched week after week, month after month as the announcements of signed players, coaches and the completion of the new stadium was plastered across the news stations and newspapers just feeding my senses. It was really cool to watch the dawning of a new team. Fact. Baseball fever has always been great here in Arizona as this is the home of the Cactus League for Spring Training. Scores of professional baseball players actually live here and are embedded in the community. Now we would have our own. As Phoenix is a pretty easy city to navigate and get around in it was also exciting to know that the stadium was only a 20 minute drive from my house. I thoroughly enjoyed having a sports team close again and being able to follow the insider details through the papers just solidified it further. But I was still not a “nut”. I watched the games on TV occasionally (yes, I had satellite now) but not obsessively. And then, after realizing how much I missed that camaraderie, I made a decision.

The Hook

In the spring of 2001, as I drove home from work past the San Francisco Giants spring training facility located less than 1 mile from my current home, I saw Barry Bonds walking towards the field with photographers in tow, surrounded even then. I decided that this was the year that I was going to be an avid fan. For those of you in the know, you’re saying, “Good timing” as this was the year that the Diamondbacks went on to win the World Series, against the worlds wishes, after 9/11. The Yankees were supposed to win it that year to give the city back some of the pride that was decimated along with the World Trade Center, but with all due respect, I don’t think there ever existed a city with MORE pride than New York following that tragic event. We were all New Yorkers that fall. But watching the season progress over 160 games to the culmination of a World Championship was more than enough to get me hook, line and sinker. Did I mention that Dawn and I went to game 6 and 7 for that championship series? (Thank you Jim Lukach!) We felt very lucky in more ways than one.

My Gripe

Well, fast forward to today where, thanks to Dawn, I am an Arizona Diamondback season ticket holder. Despite being the 5th largest city in the nation, Phoenix still qualifies as a smaller market for MLB. And thus my gripe comes to light. Consistently, despite being in first place for the 2007 and now 2008 seasons, ESPN remains utterly stingy in their reporting of Diamondback action. Again, I know Barry Bonds legal troubles was a story last year and I know Manny Ramirez IS the story now, but, let’s face facts. The Diamondbacks organization, from a business and public relations standpoint, is run very well. They have, in fact, one of the best run organizations in MLB including their farm system which is annually voted in the top 5 in the big leagues each year. They also have an image, one that they have intentionally fostered, of good, clean baseball players. At the first signs of “steroid” trouble last year , beleaguered catcher Jason Grimsley was immediately shown the door. Bench warmer Alberto Callespo was arrested last year for domestic violence and despite his wife dropping the charges soon after, guess who was the first to go in the off-season? Adios, Alberto.

They are almost squeaky clean. Translated. They’re boring. Brandon Webb is a winner. So Brandon Webb gets good press. The press loves a winner. (Webb, 15 wins) The press also loves a loser. (Barry Zito & The San Francisco Giants - $126 million and a losing record) The only thing better is a loser-turned-winner. (Texas Ranger Josh Hamilton – from crack addict to All Star hero) But the press can’t stand mundane. I would think that a series between who is battling for first place against, say, who is battling for 2nd place would garner some high level coverage. But when the DBacks squared off against the Dodgers on Thursday night, July 31 there was barely a blip on the ESPN radar. On Friday night, Manny Ramirez’s first game with the Dodgers after the colossal trade form Boston where he had two unimpressive hits, there also was hardly a whisper on Sportscenter. Why? Not sure since the DBacks won both of those games putting them up by 3 in their division run. Barely a blurb. But then, Saturday night, when Manny hits it over the fence and the Dodgers take game 3, you would have thought OJ was in a white Bronco somewhere again. Then in game 4, going 4 for 5 Manny apparently replaced St. Peter at the Pearly Gates. “Look what the Dodgers are going to do now with Manny!!!! Oohh, the Dodgers are going to take the division over!" I could hear myself turning into Jan Brady saying, "Dodgers, Dodgers, Dodgers" and "Manny, Manny, Manny"!


When Manny was losing and the boring DBacks were winning it was a non-story. When Manny is winning…now it’s a freakin' story. It’s enough to make us small market folk wanna spit. I know Senator Gramm, I know...I’m whining. It’s America…I’m allowed. The DBacks failed to make a big move before the trade deadline. That’s their own fault. All I’m asking for is a little coverage, a little respect for a team that has maintained a first place spot for 99% of the season thus far yet only have a fraction of the payroll of a Boston, New York or California team. While a couple of Arizona players are making substantial cash, most of them are raw, talented young men who make minimum pay (for now) and just love to play the game. Is a little recognition for these kids really too much to ask?