Giambi in the Hotseat

My apologies for neglecting the ol' blog. I recently moved into a new apartment and started new job. So I'm pretty tired and very poor.

If you play baseball in New York, it doesn't take much to say something that sends the baseball world into a frenzy. So when Jason Giambi said this to USA Today, you knew the excrement was headed for the fan:

"I'm probably tested more than anybody else. I'm not hiding anything. That stuff didn't help me hit home runs. I don't care what people say, nothing is going to give you that gift of hitting a baseball."
"I was wrong for doing that stuff. What we should have done a long time ago was stand up -- players, ownership, everybody -- and said, 'We made a mistake.' We should have apologized back then and made sure we had a rule in place and gone forward. Steroids and all of that was a part of history. But it was a topic that everybody wanted to avoid. Nobody wanted to talk about it."

In response to this uniquely interesting comment, the baseball establishment has proceeded to light a fire under Jason Giambi.
Part of this is at least understandable. Giambi's comments amount to a tacit admission of steroid use, much stronger than his previous, evasive comments. And so there have been several rumors of possible repercussions. The Yankees are rumored to be considering a way to void Giambi's deal. These rumors popped up when Giambi was first implicated by the leaked grand jury testimony from San Francisco. The fact that the Yankee execs are even somewhat considering this shows just how much spite they have for Giambi and his salary. And of course, I'm sure that everyone was pissed off at his comments and there's more than a little thirst for vengeance here, I would say.
So while I don't think Giambi should really have to worry about any legal consequences from his statements, I can understand that everyone's busy trying to make something of it. The thing that puzzles and angers me the most is that Giambi is taking so much heat for his comments. It seems to me (and several others) that you can't exactly blame Giambi for anything he said. Giambi has committed a crime, by his own admission, several years ago, but he appears to be repentant and is apparently disgusted that the problem isn't being dealt with honestly. Instead of considering the real issues that Giambi raises, he himself is getting flamed. Why is that? Because everyone is willing to throw Jason Giambi to the dogs to avoid having the Lords of the Realm dragged through the mud.
The George Mitchell Investigation was supposed to have the credibility of Kennesaw Mountain Landis, but not it has all the moral authority of Floyd Landis. The moral fervor over the steroids issue has almost completely died down, leaving very few people interested in Mitchell's ad hoc investigation. This is exactly what baseball wants -- not for Mitchell to lose moral authority, but for people to just forget about steroids. Mitchell's report will please no one, because it will probably throw a few ballplayers to the wolves while letting the owners, executives, managers, trainers, etc. off scot-free.
Major League Baseball is very interested in making the steroids scandal an investigation into a crime by individuals, that is those individuals who used PEDs (performance-enhancing drugs). They do not want to extend the investigation into a broader look at teams and organizations, because that would create major embarassment and would ruin any team's attempt to claim the moral high ground.
The truth is that the problem of steroid use in baseball was a crime perpetrated by several individuals that was condoned, for the most part, by a huge number of club employees and league officials. And if they didn't know, it was probably willful ignorance. As Burt Lancaster once said, "If we did not know, it's because we did not want to know." I have no faith that the Mitchell investigation will probe these league officials with nearly as much zeal as they will the players. And so, while the Yankees medical staff and upper management get off scot-free, Jason Giambi is roasted by the media.
A great example of this is Buster Olney. Olney is a fine reporter, no question, but he might as well by the President of the Baseball Media Conventional Wisdom Society. Olney blames everything on Giambi, using specious evidence and faulty assumptions.
Olney's rebuttal of Giambi's statements come in three points. I quote:

1) You wonder now if Giambi was sincere, whatsoever, with his initial apology, because in this piece Giambi indicates that steroids did not help him as a hitter. If he really believes this statement, then why would he apologize? Was it simply a media relations ploy?
2) He still has never really been up front and honest about the issue, as much as he would like to maintain with his comments in this piece -- because he does not want to jeopardize his contract (which is his prerogative).
3) There is something mildly offensive about Giambi saying that others should apologize for the steroid issue. I mean, really, think about it: He was an OK but not great young hitter, a 15-to-18 homer a year guy, and at about the same time that he got very large, he became one of the best offensive players in baseball and landed a $120 million contract. So he committed the crime, so to speak, walked away with the cash, lied repeatedly about whether he used steroids -- until he was scared into speaking the truth before the grand jury -- and has never come clean, completely. And now he's saying others should apologize? Please.
There's no doubt that the entire institution of baseball shares the blame for what happened. But for one of the users of the "stuff" to criticize other players and owners, implicitly, reflects the arrogance of a burglar who got away with the goods.
And 4) The Yankees simply do not need any unnecessary distractions right now, as they fight for their lives as contenders. I'm sure there were folks within the organization are incredibly frustrated that Giambi would say this stuff at this particular time.

Now, I would like to rebut Buster:
1) Buster should know better than to ask illogical questions such as, "Giambi indicates that steroids did not help him as a hitter. If he really believes this statement, then why would he apologize? Was it simply a media relations ploy?" Whether or not steroids helped Giambi is irrelevant to his apology. He's apologizing for breaking laws/rules and violating peoples' trust. Whether or not steroids helped him is completely irrelevant to this apology. Buster enters the entire article with a strong prejudice against Giambi and a strong air of snickering disbelief at anything he says. Buster may have good reason for his prejudices, but he needs to let us know what they are if he wants us to buy into his very skewed view of Giambi's statements.
2) Olney simultaneously blames Giambi for not being forthcoming and then offers a perfect explanation as to why he hasn't been forthcoming. He tosses off the line about his "prerogative" in what seems to me a very dismissive and unfair tone.
It's true that Giambi has not been entirely forthcoming, but as this event clearly illustrates, he could very well lose his job and become a public pariah if he does give all the details. As it is, he's given enough information to put himself on the hot seat and put his future with the Yankees in jeopardy. And Giambi's silence hasn't been (in my opinion) a silence of total denial, scheming and deception; it has instead been a silence forced upon him due to legal circumstances which Olney himself acknowledges.
3) Here's where Buster runs afoul of the facts, as his description of Giambi's career is hideously inaccurate and slanted to make Giambi look like an ordinary ballplayer who made money only through malfeasance. The worst part is his description of Giambi as a "15-to-18 HR guy," a lie that's even more egregious since it's so easily disproven. Giambi's career HR line begin with 6 HR as a part-timer in 1995, and then go: 20, 20, 27, 33, 43, 38, 41, 41, 12, 32, 37.
In broad historical terms, there's absolutely nothing unusual about a HR progression like that. Giambi's power peaked late (as often happens), and he has maintained most of it through the present day. And Giambi was not Barry Bonds, a hitter whose HR explosion suddenly pushed him over the top. Giambi was a well-rounded offensive juggernaut. His career batting line is 291/413/539, which suggests someone who relies on a lot more than home runs to succeed. Giambi claims that steroids didn't help him hit home runs, and a lot of new research continues to back him up on that claim. But Buster (and most self-righteous sportswriters) still cling to this idea of some Joe Nobody taking steroids and becoming a superstar. Doesn't happen. Even Jose Canseco said that all steroids did was turn him from a good athlete to a great one, and even that point is debatable, scientifically. Steroids and HGH don't have nearly the effect on raw HR output that everyone thinks they do, and it's the job of people like Buster to correct this miconception, not encourage it.
Olney gives the token speech of, "Yes, major league baseball was to blame, and what a shame that is," without tying any of that into his savaging of Giambi, or perhaps examining if, love him or hate him, Giambi is right. Olney characterizes Giambi as someone who got into baseball, made a lot of money, and is now asking everyone else for an apology.
That's inaccurate. Giambi has issued the best apology he can without losing his job and going to jail. Olney makes it sound as if Giambi is trying to blame everyone else for his problems. It seems to me that the opposite is true: Giambi doesn't want to be the only one to accept blame. He feels that he shouldn't be the only one offering apologies. There are many other people, including some who Buster slobbers over in his columns, who really are using PEDs, getting away with it, and putting on a false display of indignance.
4) Buster says that Giambi should have kept quiet, because the Yankees don't need any more distractions now.

Bull-f***ing-shit.

I'll resist the urge to go into a Jim Cornette rant and try to say this simply: if you have something important to say, you should say it. The idea that we should all shut up for the good of the whole is fascistic nonsense. I will say that Giambi should have considered the effect his remarks would have on the rest of the team and the Yankee organization. But no one should be stopped from saying what they want just because it might embarass upper management. And yes, I'm sure this has disrupted the Yankee clubhouse, but the disruption has come from the insane press reaction. If everyone handled this sanely, there would be no firestorm. Giambi should probably say to the team, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to involve the whole team in this. These were my comments, and I'm sorry they're affecting the whole team."
Buster is one of the worst at perpetrating the holy ideal of the Good Clubhouse. But really -- how great is a clubhouse where people have strong feelings about something but aren't allowed to talk about them? I seriously doubt the New York Yankees are going to go into a tailspin just because there's extra media attention on the team. Apparently, it was OK when the club public threw A-Rod to the dogs in Sports Illustrated, but when Jason Giambi calmly expresses a sensible point of view, he's vilified?

What the hell's going on here?

Bud Selig, who is apparently blissfully unaware of public appearances, will be meeting with Giambi soon. Good job there Bud on creating the public image of a commissioner who has to punish anyone who speaks out like they're a 5th-grader.

There are bigger problems in this world than Jason Giambi's request that everyone should apologize for the Steroid Era. But when it comes to putting problems in perspective, the American media establishment is horribly inadequate. And although I think Buster Olney is a wonderful reporter, his Giambi column was way off-the-mark on a number of points. Buster should climb down from the throne and think of these things realistically. He should be the one to point out the twisted "morality" and double-standards of baseball. He shouldn't be the one perpetrating them.

Hancock and alcohol

Last Sunday night, Cardinals relief pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a car accident, when his SUV slammed into the back of a tow truck stopped on the interstate. The Cardinals cancelled their next game, and all of baseball mourned the loss of someone who seemed to be a really nice guy. It was especially hurtful that the accident hit the Cardinals, who still feel the pain of Darryl Kile's sudden death in 2002.
However, from the beginning there were questions as to whether or not Hancock may have been drinking that night. Lab reports came back that Hancock was indeed drunk at the time of the accident, his blood alcohol of .157 level twice the legal limit of .08. The police also reported the following details:

• a small amount of marijuana was found in Hancock's SUV. Full toxicology reports aren't back yet, so it's unclear whether Hancock was also under the influence of marijuana.
• A reconstruction of the accident shows that Hancock did not try to slow down, although he did try to swerve, unsuccessfully, at the last second.
• Hancock was not wearing his seatbelt, although the report I read said that his injuries likely would have been fatal either way.
• Hancock was talking on his cell phone at the time of the accident. He was apparently talking to a female friend about arranging tickets to a Cardinals game when the call was suddenly cut off.

All of these circumstances cast a pall over the mourning over Hancock's passing, most of which involved mention of what a great guy and teammate he was, helping the Cardinals to the World Championship last year. The fact that he was intoxicated doesn't mean we shouldn't mourn, nor do I think we should reserve our sympathy for his family and friends. However, it's much more difficult to feel a sense of tragedy for someone who chose to drive under the influence, putting himself and others at a great risk.

Evidently, Hancock had been struggling with a drinking problem recently. In a press conference given after the alcohol reports came down, Tony LaRussa declined to give specifics, but did say that he had a serious heart-to-heart with Hancock a day or two before his death. We can surmise that the discussion centered around Hancock's substance abuse and/or self-destructive behavior. Many have pointed out a potential hypocrisy here, in that LaRussa himself was arrested on a DUI charge during spring training. While that does make it difficult for LaRussa to take the high road, I don't think it renders him incapable of helping his players, nor does it make him a hypocrite for trying to speak to Hancock about his similar problems.

This news, while an embarassment to the Cardinals and to baseball in general, both of whom had already sainted Hancock, has provoked a mild outcry for baseball teams to take a more active role in preventing future tragedies. The Cardinals have already banned alcohol from the clubhouse, but many feel that the league needs to institute a comprehensive alcohol policy to prevent something like this from happening again.

While I sympathize with this desire, I don't think that baseball clubs have the legal right or the practical ability to curb alcoholism at the organizational level. They can make certain small (and politically correct) moves such as banning alcohol in the clubhouse, and while that's a good sign, does anyone actually believe that removing the Budweisers from the postgame spread is going to turn baseball players into teetotalers? If someone has a substance abuse problem, it's very very difficult to stop them from feeding it. It would be best for us to stop pretending that we can keep alcohol away from big-league baseball players and instead try to work through these problems on an individual level.

This idea will not be popular with MLB as a whole, who wants a broad, sweeping anti-alcohol move to make a strong statement and cover their own behinds. But the truth is that the best way to stop people like Josh Hancock from hurting himself or others is through personal, informal interventions. If LaRussa indeed spoke to Hancock with a tough-love warning, that's about the best thing the Cardinals could do.

My suggestion is that rather than institute a mostly irrelevant policy, baseball organizations need to institute a greater sense of awareness and intervention, on the micro and macro level. On the micro level, managers, coaches, and fellow players need to be aware of guys whose party lifestyle starts to become destructive. And instead of reporting him to upper management or taking away his post-game lager, they need to step in on a personal, informal level and offer help.
On the macro level, upper management needs to be aware of potential personnel problems of this sort. They can do this without installing spies or cameras in the locker room. If they simply keep open a healthy line of communication with managers and coaches, this would enable them to offer help to troubled players. This help could be counselling and rehab or sterner measures such as loss of beer privileges in the clubhouse. They also need to be a part of the informal support/awareness system created in the clubhouse itself.

This is a complicated and involved solution, but it's the one that offers the most realistic chance for success. Creating a "liquor policy" may get the league good PR, but I seriously doubt it would be anything but modestly effective. I'm reminded of the oft-told story of country singer/alcoholic George Jones who, when his wife took away his car keys, drove off to the liquor store on his John Deere lawn mower. It's amazingly naive to think that players with addictions and/or substance abuse problems can be prevented from hurting themselves so easily.

What baseball needs to institute is the sort of informal system of awareness and intervention that you would use in any family or professional situtation that faced a similar problem. This won't make any headlines and it won't shut up the talking heads who want official action in the misguided belief that such action will solve the problem. The problems faced by people like Josh Hancock are unfortunately quite familiar in our society, but we can take comfort by learning from the lessons of similar cases. The Cardinals' ban on booze in the home clubhouse (but not the visiting clubhouse) will likely be no more effective than hiding Dad's whiskey in the attic. The real way to see improvement in this situation is by creating a support system of friends, family and teammates that can deal with these problems before someone's life is lost.

That is what baseball really needs to do.

Yankee Stadium: April 19, 2007

I have never been to Yankee Stadium. And since I was planning to visit my brother (who lives in Jersey City), I was determined to make a trip to the stadium. Yankee Stadium will be torn down after the 2008 season, and I simply had to see a game there before it's gone.
Luckily, my brother and I (and two of his friends) were able to get decent tickets to a Thursday afternoon game against the Indians. The scheduled starting pitchers were Faustom Carmona (CLE) and Darrell Rasner (NY). I told my brother to expect a lot of runs scored.
From our seats in the second level right down the right field line, we couldn't really get the full panoramic view of the ballpark. But I could see Monument Park, and the view of new Yankee Stadium next door. Besides, it was a thrill just to be in Yankee Stadium.
The game actually started out pretty quiet in terms of offense. I told my brother that the Yankees were a team that worked pitchers incessantly, and they did give Carmona a very hard time. Unfortunately, they weren't able to turn that into runs scored. Carmona's pitch count ran up, but he still managed to go 6 innings, allowing just 2 earned runs. One run scored in the third on two singles and two stolen bases (Damon and Abreu). The other came on a Jason Giambi solo homer in the 6th. I told my brother that it was highly unlikely that anyone would hit a ball all the way to us in the second deck in right field. But I also said that Giambi was our best bet. He didn't hit the ball all the way to us, but he came close. It reminded me of the homer I saw Giambi hit in Cincinnati during an interleague series a couple years ago. That one was a laser beam that almost went through the right field bleachers.
Carmona did a good job of handling the Yankees and working through tough spots. Although he kept falling behind in the count and threw at least 2 or 3 pitches to nearly every hitter he faced, he pitched around his problems. He also (oddly enough) didn't issue a walk. Of course, I should mention that the Yankees were still short-handed due to injuries and were starting Will Nieves (??) at catcher. Doug Mientkiewicz was their starting first baseman, but that was on purpose, or so I'm told.
As for Rasner, he was more efficient than Carmona, but didn't see such good results. He faced the minimum through three innings, but hit a wall in the fourth. I remarked to my brother that sometimes pitchers with marginal stuff do much better the first time through the lineup than the second. And this is the Indians offense we're dealing with.
In the fourth, David Dellucci hit a one-out homer, and then the Indians loaded the bases with one out. Rasner came through, though, getting Casey Blake to pop out and striking out Jhonny Peralta to end the inning.
In the 5th, Rasner got Mike Rouse to line out and then gave up a single to Jason Michaels. It was at this point that Joe Torre took him out for lefty Mike Myers. I was and still am surprised that Torre showed such a quick hook with Rasner. I don't know what his pitch count was, but Torre really should be milking his starters for all they're worth. As Buster Olney remarked, one thing you can fault Torre for this year is his overuse of the bullpen, to the point of imminent injury/catastrophe. He needs to leave in his starters for more innings and just suffer the consequences, if only to make sure that Kyle Farnsworth and Luis Vizcaino live to see September.
The Indians threatened in the sixth, with Myers giving up a single to Travis Hafner and hitting Victor Martinez with a pitch. Myers was lifted for Brian Bruney. Bruney allowed a leadoff single to Ryan Garko, but then retired the next three batters to get out of the jam. It was a narrow escape.
So after six innings, it was 2-1 Yankees. I was thus far completely wrong in my prediction of a slugfest. Fausto Carmona had a world of trouble with Yankee hitters but pitched through his problems and finished with a quality start. Darrell Rasner pitched through his own troubles and was satisfactory, if only for 4.1 IP.
But things were just about to get exciting.
The Indians blew it open in the top of the 7th against Luis Vizcaino, who looks like he's completely lost out there nowadays. David Dellucci knocked in a run with an RBI groundout, but then Victor Martinez blew it open with a 3-run homer just below us in the right field bleachers. Vizcaino's line: 1 IP, 4 ER, 2 H, 2 BB, 2 K.
Aaron Fultz and Rafael Betancourt shut out the Yankees in the 7th and 8th innings, and it was still 5-2 going into the 9th. The Indians scored again in the 9th thanks to an error by Alex Rodriguez, making it a 6-2 game.
By this point, about half the New York fans had left. They would miss one of the most exciting comebacks I've ever seen in person.
"Closer" Joe Borowski came on for Cleveland in the 9th. He retired the first two batters he faced, and was one out away from ending the game. Then the most amazing thing of the whole game happened: Josh Phelps homered. It was a solo homer that made it 6-3, but unfortunately for Borowski it meant he was going to have to face the rest of the juggernaut Yankee lineup. Jorge Posada had already replaced Nieves as catcher in the 9th spot, and after that it was back to the top of the order.
Each successive batter brought another shock. Posada singled. Damon walked. Jeter punched a single into left field for an RBI (6-4). Bobby Abreu came to the plate. I turned to my brother and said, "You kn0w, Abreu needs to hit a home run to make this interesting."
Backstory: one day in 2002 (I think), my brother and I went to see the Cubs face the Reds at old Cinergy Field. The game was moving along a bit slowly. Fred McGriff stepped up to the plate. My brother turned to me and said, "You know, what we need is for McGriff to hit a home run and make this interesting."
On the very next pitch, he did.
I turned and gave my brother the most astonished look in the world. We've tried to recapture that predictive magic since then, but it's never worked.
It didn't work in Yankee Stadium, either. All Abreu did was go with an outside pitch and punch it into left field for a single. Damon scored, making it a 6-5 ballgame. Borowski was pitching like the marginal closer he was. With A-Rod at the plate, Borowski unleashed a wild pitch that sent Jeter to third and Abreu to second. It wasn't a big deal, as it turned out, but it moved the winning runs into scoring position and removed the force play from every base but first.
All of that was irrelevant, as I've said. It seemed impossible that the Yankees -- even though they are the Yankees -- could come back from a 4-run deficit in the 9th. I was thrilled that they'd come this far, as the game had become infinitely more interesting than it was in the early innings. I didn't think it could get any better.
Everyone in the Stadium had the same thought: A-Rod could hit a homer and win it. I had the same though, but wasn't sure. A-Rod's hit a lot of homers, yes, but he can't win every game. It would be too improbable, too much like a movie for him to play the hero again.

And then he hit a long fly ball to center field. Everyone (myself included) just stood up and watched. It sailed over the fence, and the Yankees won, 8-6. My first reaction was shock at the fact that a) he had done it, and b) this was the most amazing baseball game I'd ever seen in person. Then I became positively giddy at what I had just seen, not only how exciting it was, but how I felt like I'd been a part of a great baseball moment. I got a high-five from the woman sitting in front of us, whom I'd never met. Then I just marvelled at what I'd seen.
As we were walking down the concourse, I pulled out my cell phone and called my Dad. He's never been to Yankee Stadium either, and I knew he was a little jealous that we'd get to be going. I told him exactly what happened, with my lively voice mixed in with the still-noisy Yankee Stadium crowd. He said he still has that message on his voice mail.

Yankee Stadium: April 19, 2007. That's what it's all about.