Alex Rodriguez

It seems that Lance Berkman is taking criticism from the Houston team and their annoucner (Milo Hamilton) that he left behind as he moves on with his rejuvination in St. Louis (6 HRs, 16 RBIs, .378).
"Why did you think it wasn't necessary to get in shape your last couple of years as an Astro? And now to a team you didn't even know, a manager you didn't play for, you felt it was your responsibility to get in great shape? And it's paying off. ... Lance, I love you. But wouldn't it have been great to have given that same dedication to the Astros and your owner here that you did in two short months to the Cardinals?"
To this, he can only agree, which is a sign of class in his resurrection from the ashes of Houston and the Bronx.
"You kind of want to be a (Craig) Biggio or a Chipper Jones (and) that's kind of how I had it in my mind that I was going to be the same type of guy, my whole career in Texas, one team," Berkman said. "I have to take some responsibility for not still being here. ... We were terrible. I was terrible. And they were ready to move on."
It's not perfect. he's not perfect, but he's trying and he's internalizing the blame, which is the sign of maturity that some athletes just don't have.
Take A-Rod for example.
I hate A-Rod. I really do. I can't think of anything nice to say about him. I don't think fashion models should be baseball players, and it doesn't matter if they're pretty boys making out with themselves in a mirror (A-Rod) or muscleheads posing with shaved and oiled chests (Brady Anderson / Gabe Kaplar). That said, I'm not of the shaved chest persuasion and I don't look good in baby oil. I'm not tanned (though I am farmer tanned from my past 2 days in the sun hiking between work sessions), but yeah... I'm also not sporting a haircut that costs more than some people's wardrobes OR using stuff in my hair (I don't use the P word). So yeah... I really loathe the man. I hated him with Seattle. I see him as sinking the ship in Texas. I absolutely LOATHE him in New York. He'll never be a Yankee. Even Jeter hates him.
They say it best in The Other Guys when referring to Jeter getting shot when it should have been A-Rod... I hear you.
And when he got caught for steroids, he really had the lamest excuses in the world.
"Again, it was such a loosey-goosey era. I'm guilty for a lot of things. I'm guilty for being negligent, naive, not asking all the right questions. And to be quite honest, I don't know exactly what substance I was guilty of using."
And from trying to take things back to Selena Roberts to trashing his "cousin" to all that he did and didn't do, in the end, there was a well scripted apology that was so full of crap that it makes porta potties at the state fair seem nice by comparison. When THEE Peter Gammons wants to save your ass and he can't, something is wrong.
"When you take this gorilla and this monkey off your back, you realize that honesty is the only way. I'm finally beginning to grow up. I'm pretty tired of being stupid and selfish, you know, about myself. The truth needed to come out a long time ago. I'm glad it's coming out today."
No you're not... you want to be inseminating Madonna or smoking your stogies and living the high life. This is just a step between celebrity relationships and all that your life is.
But with that said, yesterday, I broke my relic cherry as a box of cards that my wife got me was all too Alex Rodriguez heavy. It featured a regular Topps graded Rodriguez from 2009. It featured a Masterpieces of the Game Rodriguez with some grand slam that he hit (there was also a Chris Chambliss from that set where he's doing the '76 home run dash - that's already in a place of awesomeness in my collection). There were a lot of interesting cards in small pack combinations (Goudey, Upper Deck variations from the past 4 years), but the highlight was a Baseball Heroes jersey (pictured left 99/200) that I pulled straight out of a pack - I've never done that before, and even though it was A-Rod, I was happy as a pig in the mud at 82 degrees.
Because in the end, baseball cards are about the closed pack and what could be inside. There is a sensation that anything or anyone could be in the pack. It's never been viewed since it was put in there, and for that, the lottery exists, and one could win big with a player he likes or come up with a couple faces that are commons from teams he doesn't know, or he could get a rookie of a no name and win big years from now. Nevertheless, figuring out rookies is all but impossible without a copy of Tuff Stuff, and even then, who knows if it's THEE rookie. But it's a sensation of getting something good, and in the end, any night that features a box of baseball cards that await opening... it's a great day (already made beautiful with sun and flowers and breezes over the water and life is good - as it was today for the same things and some herons and a few painted turtles sunning themselves on logs down from the 20lb snapping turtle just swimming in the water like nothing was doing).
Here's to spring and the good things.

Reggie Jackson

At 6 foot 2, Babe Ruth's 250 pound "official" final weight made him the original Big Sluggi (in contrast, David Ortiz is listed at 6 foot 4 and 230 - an estimate that seems rather kind - all things considered). When "The Sultan of Swat" launched his final 3 home runs, he was too sluggish to chug around the bases, but he still gave the crowd 3 more moonshots to remember him by. They weren't his most famous home runs - the one that he called (or didn't, depending on who is asked, and history supposedly vindicates) stands as that, and while I tend to side with a pitcher who was willing to admit to having a hankering for drilling any player who would do such a thing (Charlie Root), baseball legend is gold - just ask Abner Doubleday.
And Yankee lore is all about famous home runs. Reggie Jackson swung at 3 pitches on the night of October 18, 1977 when he made Burt Hooton, Elias Sosa, and Charlie Hough wish that they never dared to come to the Bronx. Three at bats. Three swings. Three long fly balls into the stands. Gotham was in pandemonium and all was celebration. The straw that stirred the drink had done it and proved to the world that it was he and not Thurmon Munson, then Yankee Captain, who was running the show with a little help from all of the clout that a 5 year $3 million contract (when that meant something - not this inflated era of just above league minimum pay).
But Jackson was what it meant to be in New York, leaving Oakland to come to the Bronx, he made his name over a half of a decade before moving on to California and back to Oakland to finish up his show with 563 jacks and 2597 strikeouts (in this, I'm sure he's hoping that Jim Thome gets 2 more full seasons). That said, strikeouts must be OK in the Big Apple. After all, Alex Rodriguez quietly has 1836 at age 34.
But all things considered, there is only one home run that has ever been hit in the house that Ruth Built (by a Yankee) that really moves me (the Pine Tar incident not withstanding):
Chris Chambliss - The Game 5 1976 walk off home run that ends with Yankee Stadium emptying onto the field so that Chambliss has to shove the fans out of his way.
Granted, I'm a Yankee hater, and I was a Brett fan. Had it not been for that home run, the Royals would have taken the game to extra innings on the strength of Brett's homer. However, the Yankees went to the World Series for the first time since the Maris era, and Steinbrenner had arrived as the owner he was to become.
In this, part of the game is loving the game and seeing its finest moments. Since this happened when I was 5, it wasn't like watching Aaron Boone. Hell, I feel nothing with Bucky Dent - I was 7 at the time and didn't follow baseball, but to lose the game now - to Jeter, A-Rod, or Cano... I'd feel that blast.
Chambliss was a thing of beauty - a more riotous version of Hank Aaron's finest blast without the feeling of "get the hell away from me you sons of bitches."