Home-run King on Trial

It may not be The Trial Of The Century, but here comes Barry Bonds (reporting to court in San Francisco), depending on what the trial reveals, probably about to cast a klieg light on the nastiness of achieving immortality at the expense of his body, of some 16,500 big-league players that have shot for the record (not having taken a shot except to deaden pain) before him without the benefit of chemical enhancement, and at the expense of gullible fans (or the don’t-ask-don’t-tell crowd).

Such a nice way to start a season….

Of course, there are two schools of thought on anabolic-steroid (ab)use as it relates to enhanced athletic strength and performance.

Is it really so bad we’ve seen this (and other) world-class athletes in ultra-fine shape day in and day out, playing largely at the peak of human perfection? Would we rather see one less-tuned, perhaps loaded with uppers or following a barroom binge not long enough before game time? There are cases of pitchers (not to single out this most demanding position) boasting of no-hitters and perfect games while on LSD, or half-loaded and hungover from the night before. Also, isn’t this all one big privacy issue? Do the rule-makers, including the Federal Government, have any right to intervene in the private matter of ingestion? Who am I really hurting besides, dimly, myself? And what’s next on the no-no list? Caffeinated coffee? Cheerios?

That’s one school. The other frets over the subliminal message such enhancement and turning-heads-the-other-way sends to our young people. Like chain-smoking, like whiplash, like exposure to dangerous levels of radiation, steroid abuse does not necessarily reveal its ugly side until many years later. What percentage of young athletes, legitimately looking for an edge, realistically now, will succeed as professional players? The potentially lethal damage to these young people is done in a silent way. To a high-school or college star receiving the wrong advice, being fed a delusion, influenced by juiced-up multi-millionaire stars, the idea of any hideous side-effects developing later on quality of life is a non-issue. “I’m going to live forever” as the movie-song says.

Sure.

The real shame of this trial is that Bonds, in his early baseball career, was not only the best player of his era, but one of the greatest natural athletes anyone would ever see.

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Oblique Baseball

Not that I (Evander) am an expert on human anatomy, but until the 1990s had anyone even heard of the oblique muscle(s)? It’s the “in injury,” the fashionable injury this oblique. The Yankees already have a problem when Curtis Granderson injured his right oblique muscle. If Granderson’s out for opening day and well beyond, good luck with an outfield of Brett Gardner, Andruw Jones (Is he still on the team?), and Nick Swisher. This combo doesn’t match well with the Yankees’s billion-dollar infield. The starting rotation is questionable to say the least. I’m picking the Bombers for fifth place in the A.L. East.

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Australia versus India: The Big One

It was meant to be the final: the Australians, reigning champions and looking to win for a world-record fourth time in succession, versus the Indians, a team packed full of superstars, who have 1.2 billion people rooting for them and are the home team. Yet, because of India’s failure to top their group, it’s the quarter-final instead. Both teams have their weaknesses, both (perhaps) are not at their best—Australia having lost to Pakistan, and India having tied with England earlier in the tournament. But they have two of the greatest batsmen of the last two decades—Ricky Ponting and Sachin Tendulkar—while Australia have the menacing speedsters Brett Lee and Shaun Tait, and India possess the juggernaut that is Virender Sehwag, who’s racing against time to get fit for this game. It promises to be a game of epic proportions—a Mahabharata of a conflict featuring cricketing gods and royalty fighting it out on the field of battle. And it’ll all be resolved by Thursday noon EST in the United States. Here’s Sehwag at his most destructive—and against the Aussies as well.

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Go, Go Pakistan

First of all, thank you to Evander for his sterling work in keeping up with the dizzying merry-go-round that is the 2011 Cricket World Cup. We’re now in the knockout, quarter-final stages. The usual eight suspects went through, and now the West Indies—winners of the first two tournaments in 1975 and 1979—have to go home, having been eviscerated by the Pakistan side.

What can one say about Pakistan? Eight months ago, they were at their lowest ebb. They had lost the Test and one-day series in England, and three of their players had been suspended after being accused of cheating. Their star player, Shahid “Boom Boom” Afridi had bowed out of Test cricket, claiming in effect that he simply didn’t have the temperament to concentrate for that long—thus his nickname. They looked as if they’d rather be anywhere else than on a cricket team. Now, they’re bouncing around the ground as though they can’t imagine not playing cricket 24/7. Accident prone wicketkeeper Kamran Akmal is catching the ball, the side beat the Australians—the first time the Aussies had lost a World Cup match in 33 games—and they then thrashed the West Indies to move into the quarter-finals. In the thick of it is Afridi, who’s collected the most wickets in the tournament so far, and seems to be bursting with pleasure every time he gets the ball in his hand.

“Which Pakistan will show up?” is one of the questions that’s always asked at the beginning of a game featuring the side: will it be the who-gives-a-damn side or the world-beaters? Pakistan is set to play the winners of the next mega-match: Australia versus India. Whoever they play, stay tuned: that match may well be, quite literally, explosive.

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Ruth and Gehrig Photo Sells for 33 Grand

The discovery of footage of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig, and the recent sale of a still photograph of the period for a fortune, call to mind the equally valuable photograph we have in Right Off the Bat of Dr. William Van Ornum’s father: from the same period. No one before now has seen our archival photograph!

One-of-a-kind photograph in Right Off the Bat.

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Ally Pally and the Bobby Thomson Word Picture

Martin’s back! I think I drove him nuts making all those fine-tunings in Right Off the Bat second proof. No extra trees will die as a result of these alterations. But the blood pressure may creep up with the (tree) sap.

Cricket fans: You will now have real coverage from the Main Man. I didn’t even have time for willowtv.

My biggest apology goes out to fans of the Scottish team, when I conflated “England” and “U.K.” in an earlier blog (now corrected). What was I thinking or dreaming? It must have been of my visit to Ally Pally in Tottenham, North London (in my other 1968 dreams), while humming “Penny Lane” and the newer hit at the time, “Those Were the Days My Friend / We Thought They’d Never End” while meditating on Mr (no period!) Pastry and Mister Magoo.

I also send condolences to the family of Elizabeth Taylor, one of the grandest ever to come out of that great island-nation. She had once dated Ralph Kiner.

Enough rambling. Now that I’m back on my regular beat, I want to call everyone’s attention to Painting the Word Picture. It’s a site (and a sight) that has something to do with Howie Rose and Bobby Thomson as well as my good friend, the extraordinary Oliver Trager, who has resurrected Lord Buckley. (I’m not sure if Mr Pastry’s been rediscovered yet, by anyone.)

R.I.P. Elizabeth Taylor, joining Rock and Jimmy in Eternity.

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Erin Go Bragh

It’s the second full day of spring and it snowed in the Bronx yesterday, huge flakes. The good news is it didn’t snow down here at World Cricket Central in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, which is obviously south of the snow line. Except for that second day following the vernal equinox, it is supposed to snow even in Brooklyn tomorrow. And it might pile up!

Martin and I are about finished putting our heads between covers, having gone over second proof of Right Off the Bat. Lookin’ good, my friends….

I’m experiencing less agita since the Mets released Messrs Castillo and Perez; plus, Jeter and A-Rod, respectively, are having monster spring trainings.

Aside from weird weather (Marzo e Pazzo as the Italians say), the arrival of spring, and NYC spring-training headlines, the biggest news is taking place in India. For all those feverishly awaiting our news report from World Cup 2011, check out Ireland. It is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited. But who knew the Irish were a cricket juggernaut?

Martello Tower, where James Joyce and Oliver St. John Gogarty Lived.

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India Defeats West Indies

India beat West Indies decisively. Next up is Australia.

Home-team India rules!

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Ready for Our Closeup, the World Cup, Spring, and Right Off the Bat Proof Has Arrived!

While co-writer Martin is basking in the sun at the vernal equinox, in Parts Unknown, I have finished my work on proof copy of Right Off the Bat. Mostly in spite of my efforts (such as they have been) the book looks good! There are a couple of inevitable glitches, but surprisingly few. Unlike James Joyce, who added wordage amounting to one-third to his epic Ulysses in galleys, I refrain from killing more trees and inflating the very low, low retail price of $16.95, all thanks to the good folks at Paul Dry Books. After poring over the proof, for which I took time out from coverage of World Cup 2011 (our Lads are in the Quarter Finals!), I can say without question I am ready for my cricket closeup, Mr. DeMille (or Mr. Charlie Rose).

We're ready for our closeup, Mr. Rose!

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Pinch Hitting at the World Cup

In baseball parlance, pinch hitting is when a fresh batter (also known as the hitter) replaces another, always from the reserves on the bench, for the purpose of increasing offense.

I have been pinch hitting with one huge difference: I decrease “cricket offense” by doing so. But pinch hit I must; and perhaps I have brought the UK “a little bit of luck”.

England surprised everyone (but yours truly) by defeating the West Indies.

Destiny is not altogether in the England’s (I formerly had written “U.K.”: Apologies to my Scottish relatives!) hands. A few bricks need to fall into place to reach the Quarter Finals. But if I keep pinch hitting, this seems a shoe-in. (Readers of my earlier piece on New York City street games, and the relative complexities of cricket to baseball, will recognize the shoe pun. [What pun?])

Goin' all the way!

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