By Allen Adams edge staff blogger aadams@themaineedge.com Little League Musings The Senior League World Series is currently being contested in our fair city. Hearing about all these teenagers from all over the world coming here to play baseball and have fun caused me to stop and wonder: are they having fun? The world of youth sports has always tended toward over competitiveness. There’s something about the playing field that brings out the alpha in all of us; many of us transfer that competitive emotion onto our children as they play what is supposed to be a game. However, the majority of people are able to control their own feelings and allow the kids to just go out and have fun. Don’t get me wrong; I firmly believe in playing to win. Events like the Senior League World Series are the ultimate goal that these kids are striving for, and that’s fine. At this level, they are, after all, the best of the best. But what about the kids farther down the food chain? What about the kids who don’t quite have the opportunity or talent to make the myriad All-Star teams that compete for the various championships? Do we really need to expend so much effort in regulating something that, at its core, is just a game? I spent part of this summer watching my girlfriend’s son play in Minor League, which is the 8-11 age-group under the Little League umbrella. One of the first things that struck me was how many rules they have. When I was playing Little League, there were just a few basic rules, aimed primarily at making sure that everyone got a chance to play. That was pretty much it; we went out and played. There were no real limitations on the number of pitches or anything like that. We just went out and played the game. Bear in mind that this is coming from someone who spent a large part of his Little League career riding the bench (I was a late bloomer athletically). I never felt like I got shortchanged out of playing time; I played when I played, and the kids playing ahead of me usually deserved to be. This was where I learned that hard work and practice can sometimes overcome a relative lack of natural ability. I learned that being part of a team is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have. I learned that you can still have fun even if you lose. Most importantly of all, I learned a lifelong love of baseball that I carry with me to this day. Now, however, there are rules regulating specific amounts of playing time, pitch counts and the like. Of course, these rules are well-intentioned; the folks at Little League Baseball aren’t going out of their way to obfuscate matters. They’re trying to do what society deems best for the hundreds of thousands of children in Little League’s charge. Unfortunately, we have gradually developed a tendency to overprotect our kids, leading to more rules and more regulation. Kids are resilient. They have boundless energy and speedy recuperation on their side. The game should be about kids discovering the joy of sport and the benefits of playing on and working as a team. They shouldn’t have to care about winning. Many youth coaches understand that fact and run their teams accordingly. However, it only takes one hyper-competitive apple to spoil the bunch. Those guys who yell and scream and pout and complain not only ruin the fun in the short-term, but also set terrible long-term examples for kids who are ostensibly learning about sportsmanship. Of course, there are those on the other end of the spectrum, the “I’m OK, you’re OK and that’s OK” guys who are all about everybody being special. I understand the need for esteem building with kids this age; I really do. However, in the world of athletics (and the world in general), some people are going to be more talented than others. That’s just how it is. It doesn’t mean they’re a better person, just (in this case) a better ballplayer. This Lake Woebegone-ification of youth athletics almost irritates me more than the hyper-competitiveness. We’re not all above average, and we shouldn’t tell our kids that that’s how things work. Fortunately for the kid in my life, his coaches were among those that got it. They understood that those kids were there to learn how to play the game and have a good time doing it. Wins and losses are great for what they are, but at this level, it’s really about giving the kids a chance to figure out what the game is all about. It’s good to win, his coaches said, but winning isn’t everything. Kids got praise when they deserved it and constructive criticism when the situation warranted it. No glut of competitive complaints or idle praise here; just a handful of guys trying to help some kids learn to love the game of baseball. Do your best and try to get better; those were the lessons that my boy learned playing Little League this summer. Those were the lessons that I learned when I played, and the lessons that anyone who has ever played Little League (or any other youth sport) should have learned. I hope the older kids at the Senior League World Series have coaches who teach them those lessons; they’re far more important than any trophy could ever be. The 2008 Summer Olympics - Does Anyone Care? The Olympics have passed their prime There was a time, not so long ago, when the Olympics were viewed as the be-all and end-all of athletic competition. Athletes from all over the world would assemble every four years and vie for the gold, silver and bronze medals that were their only, repeat only compensation for victory. This was when Olympians were amateurs in fact as well as in name. This was when the Olympics mattered. The global social and historical significance of the Olympics has been noted time and time again. Moments such as Jesse Owens refusing to shake Hitler’s hand following victories at the 1936 Berlin Games or Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising black-gloved fists to the skies during their medal presentation ceremony in Mexico City in 1964 continue to resonate today. However, today’s Olympian is just like any other professional athlete; they’ve got agents, sponsorships, entourages and all the other trappings of pro sports. However, many of them only have this two-week window every four years to ensure that they continue to get paid. The motivations for the athletes have changed. I’m not saying that that change is a good one or a bad one, but it has altered the way we view our Olympians. Suffice it to say, the heyday of the Olympic Games appears to have passed us by. The 2008 Olympic Games have just kicked off in Beijing. Literally kicked off, as the first event of the Games was a soccer match between the women’s teams from Norway and the United States (Norway won 2-0, as if anyone actually cares). The official opening ceremonies are set to take place on Friday, August 8, with two weeks of competition to follow. One real question remains unanswered, however. Is anyone actually going to watch? Or really even give a crap? The Olympics have been sliding down a slippery slope for years now. People in this country have been steadily, albeit gradually losing interest in the Games. The beginning of the end for American enthusiasm for the Olympics really started with the end of the Cold War. The Soviet Union provided a perfect black hat for Americans to rally against. With the U.S. boycott of the 1980 Summer Games in Moscow and the U.S.S.R. avoiding the Los Angeles Olympics held in the summer of 1984, plus all the legendary confrontations between the two superpowers (the U.S. Hockey win over the Soviets in the 1980 Winter Games, the questionable Soviet triumph in the 1972 gold medal basketball game), we really had something to sink our teeth into. We love to hate; it’s the American way. We hung our hats on athletes like Mark Spitz, Edwin Moses, Carl Lewis, Mary Lou Retton, Florence Griffith-Joyner and Jackie Joyner-Kersee. These were Americans who were swimming, running and jumping faster and higher than anyone else in the world, and we ate it up. However, we (meaning both American athletes and the American public) got greedy. We wanted more victories, more medals, though I never really understood how one guy running a tenth of a second faster than another guy equated national superiority. Basically, we forced the International Olympic Committee to relax the rules regarding the participation of professionals, mostly because we figured the other guys had been paying their athletes for years. You also need to take into account the exponential growth of our love affair with professional sports here in the U.S. So, we got our basketball Dream Team in 1992. Take that, world! Michael Jordan is far superior to anything you’ve got! However, our jingoistic ambitions of global athletic domination also had some dark side effects. For years, there had been whispers of performance-enhancing drug use by athletes behind the Iron Curtain, but we chose to believe that our athletes were clean. For a long time, they probably were. However, the scandal surrounding BALCO revealed that some of our most notable recent performers took advantage of some chemical assistance as well. Track and field luminaries such as Marion Jones and Tim Montgomery were fingered as cheaters, despite never having failed a drug screening test. The technology of the cheaters had outstripped that of the Olympics’ governing body. Suddenly, we were living in a world where we had no way of knowing for sure who was breaking the rules. It’s a lot more difficult to root for this medal-winner or that record-breaker if you have doubts about the legality of their methods. We’ve got no more bad guys, no more true amateurs and no more trust in our athletic morality. How can we be expected to care about the Olympics now? There’s no real reason, unless you are a fan of a particular sport or fervently patriotic. Is that fair? Not really; the vast majority of these athletes spend years of their lives pursuing these dreams through training and hard work. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the world today, that simply isn’t enough anymore. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’ll be watching. Heck, if I happen upon a final in which an American is competing, I may watch a few minutes myself. Still, the Olympics are no longer must-see sports, and haven’t been for quite some time. Essentially, I just can’t bring myself to give a damn, and I’m pretty sure most of you can’t, either. A Goodbye We Don’t Want to Say It should come as no surprise to regular Edge readers that I am a huge lover of sports, and no team ignites my fanatic fire like the Boston Red Sox. Now, despite the unfamiliar feeling of looking up at the Tampa Bay Rays, there are a lot of things about this season that warrant our enthusiastic attention. Kevin Youkilis and Dustin Pedroia are in the midst of career years; with the way these two drive the ball and flash the leather, the right side of Boston’s infield could very well be set until well into the next decade. J.D. Drew has finally stayed healthy enough to put his always-prodigious talents on full display. Mike Lowell is still driving in runs with his bat and preventing them with his glove. Jacoby Ellsbury is dealing with a few growing pains, but he’s still sitting among the league leaders in stolen bases and playing solid outfield defense. On the pitching side, Josh Beckett and Daisuke Matsuzaka are both having solid seasons and showing some of the best stuff in the league. Jon Lester is becoming an elite pitcher before our eyes, at times bearing more than a passing resemblance to a young Andy Pettite, while the ageless Tim Wakefield looks like he’ll keep floating knuckleballs and frustrating opposing hitters well into his fifties. In the bullpen, Jonathan Papelbon looks every inch the dominating closer that he’s been since he first stepped into the role, and youngsters Craig Hansen and Justin Masterson look ready to contribute to the team’s playoff run. Plus, David Ortiz is back. The heart and soul of the Red Sox is exemplified by the big Dominican galoot. We got by without him, but it sure is great to have him back. Six whole weeks, Big Papi? We sure did miss you. Good to have you back, man. However, even with all those wonderful facets to the jewel that is the 2008 Boston Red Sox, there is still one unfortunate flaw that needs to be dealt with. It is a flaw that upon first glance seems almost beneficial, but as time progresses, the flaw becomes more and more glaring, and no matter how many times you try to fix it or hide it, it simply will not stop being a flaw. Manny Ramirez, ladies and gentlemen. Don’t get me wrong. I love Manny. I even love Manny being Manny. The guy is one of the greatest hitters of this or any other generation, and he’s still raking with the best of them. His stated goal is to play until he’s 40, giving him four more years at the big-league level. Even considering a reasonable rate of decline as he ages (he is 36, after all), we’re likely looking at some all-time great numbers; 600+ home runs, 2,000+ RBI, maybe even 3,000 hits. Those are Hank Aaron numbers. Willie Mays numbers. By the numbers, Manny would be a first-ballot Hall of Fame inductee if he retired tomorrow, let alone if he plays for three or four more years. So what’s the problem, you ask? Alas, Manny is kind of a jackass. Granted, being a jackass rarely keeps a player from receiving the accolades his talent warrants, unless his name is Barry Bonds. However, when the jackass in your locker room is calling out the owner, pushing down elderly traveling secretaries, phoning in at-bats and playing the outfield like he’s got calliope music playing in his head, perhaps the time has come to reevaluate things. The guy wants out. I’m not sure why he wants out, but he does. So here it is. While it pains me immensely to say it, I think we may be approaching Manny’s sell-by date. The team has $20 million contract options on Manny for 2009 and 2010. Given the out-of-whack economics of the game, that’s actually a reasonable price for a player of Manny’s admittedly superior talent. However, Mr. Ramirez has made it abundantly clear that he wants to scrap the options and sign a new four-year deal that he hopes will take him to the end of his illustrious career. He’s convinced that he’s worth $100 million for the next four years. Love ya, Manny, but I don’t think so. The Red Sox hold all the cards here. They could give him the new contract he’s asking for. As of now, not gonna happen. They could trade him before the July 31st deadline, but their position in the playoff hunt and the unlikelihood of an equitable return make that scenario the remotest of possibilities. They could pick up his 2009 option and hunker down for another madcap year of entitlement, attitude and on-field escapades. Or, they could let him play out his contract and depart this offseason as a free agent. The biggest problem is the fact that the kind of production that Manny brings to the table isn’t easy to come by. How do you replace one of the ten greatest right-handed hitters in the history of the game? The short answer is, you don’t. The Red Sox have a wealth of young talent, some of which is soon to be ready for prime time. Will any of these young players reach the Hall of Fame stature of Manny? Probably not. But they don’t need another all-time great; they need guys who want to win, and I’m not sure that Manny is that guy anymore. In closing, let me restate the fact that I love Manny. He’s brought hundreds of wins, two World Series championships and a whole lot of entertainment to the Boston sports scene. I hope the team finds a way to ensure that he finishes his career in a Red Sox uniform and wears a Sox cap to his Hall of Fame induction ceremony. I hope Manny sees the error of his ways, adjusts his attitude and leads the Sox to their third title in five years. I hope the big jackass sticks around for a few more years. But I don’t see it happening. Puking is the American way I’m a long-time lover of game shows. You could even consider me a connoisseur. I love everything about them. There’s something wonderfully American about the combination of impeccably tailored hosts, eye-catching models and fabulous cash and prizes. Granted, as someone with a vast wealth of useless knowledge at my disposal, I’m inclined to favor the trivia-based shows; programs such as “Jeopardy” and “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” never fail to catch my attention, providing me as they do with an opportunity to show off my cerebral storehouse of minutiae. Still, I don’t need trivia questions to enjoy a game show. I’ll enjoy a program built entirely around luck just as much; I’ve been known to shout “No deal!” from the comfort of my living room, and there is still no more transcendently archetypal game show experience than playing “Plinko” on “The Price is Right.” Seriously. Best game show game in the history of the genre. As with all things entertainment, however, the game show is in the midst of an evolutionary change, and not necessarily for the better. Nowhere is this evolution (or devolution) more apparent than in a pair of new offerings that recently hit the airwaves. One is a new concept, providing an unfortunately apt illustration of the current state of our culture. The other, a postmodern reimagining of a classic show whose absurdity was years ahead of its time. The first is G4’s “Hurl!” (Sunday, 7 p.m., check your local listings) and the second is Comedy Central’s “The Gong Show” (Thursdays, 10 p.m., check your local listings). Either one, on its own, is an eye-opening experience, but put the two together and you find yourself understanding why, as my girlfriend puts it, “everybody hates us.” Let’s start with “Hurl!” This offering from the folks at G4 is simple. Basically, the competitors are forced to eat as much as they can of something, then placed in situations designed to make them throw up what they just ate. Then, they do it again. So it goes until one competitor eats and stifles his way to victory. His prize is $1,000 and the inner peace that comes with wrestling your gag reflex into submission. Watching the show was an experience, to say the least. I watched five men shove macaroni and cheese down their gullets for five minutes; not the proudest moments of my life. Two competitors were eliminated at this stage. Next, a bunch of guys in haz-mat suits put the three remaining players into big metal globes and start spinning them around. First to boot gets the boot. After the spin cycle, it’s back to eating; it was pie the second time around. Then, back to spinning until we have regurgitation. I was horrified and disgusted, yet still kind of fascinated. God help me, I’ll probably watch it again. Coming at us from another shadowy crevice of American pop culture is “The Gong Show.” Anyone who remembers the first incarnation of this show knows it as a celebration of weirdoes and oddities putting forth their respective “talents” for all the world to see and being judged by random celebrities hitting a gong. Their prize? A crappy title belt and $600. Comedy Central’s new incarnation of the show features comedian Dave Attell as host, and while he’s no Chuck Barris, he seems to understand that he just needs to let the lunatics run the asylum. Episode one featured judges JB Smoove, camera-hungry rocker Dave Navarro and all-around train wreck Andy Dick. The first installment saw hard rockers, midget wrestlers and some sort of weird acrobatic strip show. It was really an embarrassment of marginally talented riches. The judging was appropriately nonsensical, though I hope subsequent judges are quicker to pull the trigger on a gonging, and watching a Smoove/Dick tag team fight the midget wrestling duo was definitely a highlight. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that most of these acts should have been seeking professional help rather than applause. Again, I don’t want you thinking that I won’t be going back, because chances are good that I will be. Put these two shows together and you have a microcosm of some of the negative aspects of American popular culture. We’ve got conspicuous overconsumption, rampant wastefulness, celebrations of mediocrity and bouts of unabashed insanity. The prizes are an insignificant piece of the puzzle; clearly, all any of these people want is to be on television, showing the world what complete nutbags they are. No affront to one’s dignity is too extreme to preclude a brief and sordid appearance on basic cable. Really, there’s only one thing left to say. God bless America. 07/16/08 I spent a lot of time thinking about what I was going to write for this first blog installment. This is an entirely new experience for me, and I just wanted to make sure that this first piece was something that would serve as a good introduction to what I’m all about. There are all sorts of topics out there that warrant my attention, and well, let’s be honest, with my combination of dizzying intellect and biting wit, whatever I write about is sure to be both enlightening and engaging. Still, this first one needs to be special. After all, I need to get you hooked. Then, the light bulb finally lit up. What I needed was a piece that displayed a bit of the variety inherent in my esoteric interests, and what I came up with is a little essay that I like to call: Allen’s Sitcom All-Star Team The All-Star Game took place on Tuesday, putting Major League Baseball’s crème de la crème on display. I love baseball, and briefly considered writing about the actual All-Stars. However, upon reflection, I realized that I could use this format to bring my font of useless sitcom knowledge into play as well. Thus was born Allen’s Sitcom All-Star Team, or ASAST. My guidelines were simple. I only chose characters from sitcoms that I watched during their initial run. This means that a lot of classics won’t be included here. That isn’t intended as a slight; my choices are simply more personally informed this way. Other than that, it’s pretty much arbitrary. If you don’t like it, come up with your own damn team. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the ASAST: Catcher: Al Bundy (Ed O’Neill; “Married…With Children”) - This former high school athlete (four touchdowns in a single game) brings his own brand of sardonic sportsmanship to the field of play. He is a man with nothing left to lose, and so is willing to sacrifice anything, up to and including his loved ones, for personal success. This grizzled veteran has been hardened by life; he’s the toughest guy on the team. First Base: Dick Solomon (John Lithgow; “3rd Rock From the Sun”) - Solomon could be described as a “thinking man’s ballplayer.” Unlike many of his teammates, he didn’t grow up with the game, coming from a place where baseball is unknown. However, his intelligence and willingness to study the sport’s nuances have combined to make him a formidable player. His knowledge of the rules is encyclopedic, though his ability to interpret them is occasionally spotty. Second Base: Michael Scott (Steve Carell; “The Office”) - Scott is a strong presence on the team, but not nearly as strong as he believes. A solid performer, no doubt, but he has such confidence in his own abilities that he has actually named himself captain of the ASAST. His teammates tend to humor him, due to his contributions to the team, but not one has acceded to his constant requests to be referred to as “Cap.” Third Base: Frasier Crane (Kelsey Grammer; “Cheers”, “Frasier”) - A true success story, Crane spent the first part of his career as a backup on one of the great sitcom sporting dynasties, he was unable to crack the starting lineup. However, a change of scenery led to a career renaissance, as he finally realized the potential that we had previously only experienced in brief flashes. An extremely cerebral player, Crane uses his considerable brainpower to outthink his opponent. Shortstop: Michael Bluth (Jason Bateman; “Arrested Development”) - As the player with the smallest body of work, Bluth has been battling his critics since day one. However, he has never let the naysayers wear him down. Despite his struggles, Bluth brings an unflinching optimism that is reflected in his play. He plays great defense and is possessed of many of the intangibles that separate the great players from the merely good. Left Field: Cosmo Kramer (Michael Richards; “Seinfeld”) - Kramer brings a lot to the table. He’s quick and fearless, with a seemingly boundless energy that is evident from the moment he takes the field (or enters the room, for that matter). He has been described as playing “like his hair was on fire.” He is also unafraid to make unexpected and unconventional choices, making him an ideal fit for ASAST. Centerfield: John “JD” Dorian (Zach Braff; “Scrubs”) - Dorian is the whiz kid of the team. He came up as a youngster that very few gave much of a chance. Here it is, years later, and he’s still all over the place, bringing the same joie de vivre to the field that he’s had from the beginning. His only downfall is the fact that he too often allows himself to be distracted from the task immediately at hand, leading to an occasional embarrassing miscue. Right Field: Dan Connor (John Goodman; “Roseanne”) - This one is a no-brainer for a couple of reasons. Connor is a true blue-collar performer; he has been the heart and soul of every team he’s ever been a part of. Year in and year out, he brings a consistency of performance that would be welcome on any team, and the ASAST is no exception. Plus, he bears a remarkable resemblance to Babe Ruth. Designated Hitter: Drew Carey (Drew Carey; “The Drew Carey Show”) - While not the most fleet of foot, Carey is a seriously heavy hitter. He is unflinchingly committed to his team’s success, occasionally at the expense of his own stats. His unorthodox style can lead to the occasional misfire, but with Carey, there’s always a chance that you’ll see something that you’ve never seen before. Starting Pitcher: Sam Malone (Ted Danson; “Cheers”) - While “Mayday” Malone’s original position was that of relief pitcher, he is by far the most attractive candidate to start for this squad. Not only has he previously played in the bigs, but his status as bar owner provides a place for he and his teammates to either celebrate victory or (far more likely) bemoan defeat. Relief Pitcher: George Costanza (Jason Alexander; “Seinfeld”) - Costanza’s ability to consistently worm his way out of trouble makes him an ideal choice as ASAST closer. No matter how terrible the situation, he will find a way to avoid disaster. Granted, most of his troubles arise from his own errors in judgment, but he has proven that in the end, he’ll get the job done. Manager: Larry David (Larry David; “Curb Your Enthusiasm”) - David is quite clearly a fairly intelligent man. This can be a good quality in a manager. He is also remarkably self-involved and quite devious, making him a great fit for this team. He’s used to having things his way, likely leading to a tightly-run ship. He will also consistently relieve the pressure on any underperforming players by making everything about him. Bench: You can’t have a quality team without some significant talent on the bench. These guys have proven that they have the ability to support their team members by serving in slightly more limited capacities. Al Borland (Richard Karn; “Home Improvement”) - Serves as a player-coach with the ASAST He’s a steady, proven performer with plenty of patience at the plate, and has no problem accepting his role in the background. Bull Shannon (Richard Moll; “Night Court”) - One of the nicest guys on the team, despite his imposing physicality. Provides the team with a serious power bat off the bench. Jack McFarland (Sean Hayes; “Will & Grace”) - Nobody gets under an opponent’s skin quite like McFarland; he keeps team morale high while backing up a number of positions. Plus, he’s a switch-hitter. Michael Kelso (Ashton Kutcher; “That 70’s Show”) - Kelso brings youth and surprising versatility to the team, able to play a variety of positions. ASAST Batting Order: 1. Dorian - CF 2. Bluth - SS 3. Bundy - C 4. Connor - RF 5. Carey - DH 6. Kramer - LF 7. Crane - 3B 8. Solomon - 1B 9. Scott - 2B So there it is. Allen’s Sitcom All-Star Team. If you ask me, it looks like a pretty formidable group. Now, of course there are a few omissions; when you’ve got this many choices, somebody deserving is bound to be left out. Almost every one of these players comes from a team with other quality players, but there’s only so much room. When all is said and done, these are my picks. Mine. Not yours. Mine. If you want to fight about it, you know where I’ll be. Oh, and there’s one more thing. Welcome to the Petri Dish.