Congratulations to the Texas Rangers!

They have defeated the loathsome New York Yankees (gee, can ya might think I'm a Red Sox fan or something :) ) and are advancing to their first World Series appearance ever.

As much as I don't like mixing baseball and politics, their victory brings to mind a question (pointed out by a FB friend) -

George W. Bush ran the Texas Rangers for 5 years, from 1989 until 1994, and it's taken the Rangers 16 years to right their ship.  And after that 16 years, people all over Texas and the country are rejoicing.

Yet Bush ran the entire country for *8* years (60% longer) and messed up everything, and people are livid that Barack Obama hasn't fixed everything in less than 2 years (87% less time).

What's up with that?

Speculation on SB1070 and its impact on professional baseball in AZ

Well that didn't take long...

Because of the huge presence of professional baseball in Arizona and Arizona's economy - the Diamondbacks and Spring Training (which most people are aware of), as well as the Arizona Fall League, Arizona Rookie League, Arizona Instructional League (less a league than a post-season version of spring training) and next year's All Star Game, I gave the MLB Commissioner's Office a call at 12:11 p.m. AZ time.

I wanted to ask them about any impact of the new anti-immigrant law here ("Hand Over Your Papers!") on MLB's plans in AZ.

After being referred to the voicemail of someone with their PR organization, I left a message identifying myself, my blog, and my question. No one has gotten back to me yet (it's only been 120 minutes at this writing, so that isn't a criticism), but within 4 minutes, by 12:15 p.m. AZ time, this blog had received a hit from, you guessed it, Major League Baseball.

The info -

Search Engine Phrase random musings
Search Engine Name Google
Search Engine Host www.google.com
Host Name
IP Address 64.95.235.19
Country United States
Region New York
City New York
ISP Major League Baseball

Anyway, while it may be too soon for MLB to have formulated a position on the new law, they probably will have to, and do so very soon.

While the impact of the law on the Diamondbacks and Spring Training may be significant (look for screaming the first time someone from MCSO stops Albert Pujols or Miguel Cabrera on the street outside of Chase Field and demands to see his papers), there isn't much that can be done over the short term, at least until MLB can figure out how to break leases and agreements. (Look for them to do so when they realize how onerous and oppressive this new law is)

The Arizona Fall League and the Arizona Instructional League shouldn't see much of a short-term impact either - Latin players who are good enough for the AFL tend to be in demand for their countries' winter leagues, and those leagues have first dibs on players from their leagues, and there are enough MLB-sponsored baseball academies in Latin America to handle instructional duties. In addition, they don't have a significant economic or cultural presence in AZ. If MLB moves those operations, only hardcore fans will notice.

The Arizona Rookie League could be a disaster in the making for MLB. It is a league for young, frequently first-year, players. A significant portion (guessstimate: slightly >50%) are 17 and 18-year old Latin players journeying out of their home countries for the first time. Many speak little or no English, and the ones that do, do so with an accent.

In others words, prime targets for dedicated Hispanic hunting squads MCSO sweeps.

Given the inroads that MLB has made into Latin American countries in recent decades (>30% of MLB players are Latin, and the number is still growing), how well will pics of their native sons languishing in one of Arpaio's cells or restraint chairs play there?

Of course, given the low visibility of the League and its players in AZ, and the open bigotry of too many of Arizona's "leaders", there won't be much of a furor in AZ, and if anything, the Pearces and Brewers of AZ will be happy at the idea of imprisoning Dominican (and Venezuelan and Mexican and so on) teenagers and will view international criticism as a source of pride.

That league, the Rookie League, starts play in late June and continues into August, well after the law is expected to go into effect (90 days after the lege adjourns for the year).

In other words, but the end of the summer, potentially a significant percentage* of the next generation of MLB players could find themselves in jail or detained by police to be grilled over their immigration status, all for daring to be born on the wrong side of a line on a map.

That leaves MLB's big club, if they choose to use it.


Next year's All Star Game, planned for Chase Field in Phoenix on July 12. 2o11.


The direct impact of the game and related activities on Phoenix's economy is expected to be in excess of $60 million, with millions more in less-direct economic impacts.

By doing this (enacting an anti-immigrant police state law) more than a year out, the nativists in the lege have created a window of opportunity for MLB to move the game if it so chooses, though it will have to be soon to allow the new site time to adequately prepare (Southern CA might be a good choice - great facilities, experience with big events, and, if MLB wants to send a message, a large Latino population).

Now we wait who MLB wants to keep happy - a few thousand nativists in Arizona, or the hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of its players and fans worldwide who don't think that Latinos, whether or not they are baseball players, should be oppressed because of their ethnicity.


*Note - There are 6 North American-based leagues that are primarily made up of first year pros - Arizona, Gulf Coast, Appalachian, Pioneer, Northwest and New York-Penn (Northwest and NY Penn tend to have college age players, the others tend to be younger). There are also MLB-sponsored summer leagues in Venezuela and the Dominican Republic, but those players tend to be 17 or younger and solely from those two c0untries. Usually, players who graduate from the Venezuelan and Dominican summer leagues move into the Arizona or Gulf Coast leagues for a season to acclimate to the United States before moving into a full-season minor league.

Jim Rice's Hall of Fame Induction speech

An incredibly overdue and wholly deserved moment...

Courtesy NESN.com -

Thank you. Good afternoon. I've only got a couple of minutes now, guys.

I'd like to start by thanking Jane Clark, the chairman of the board of directors of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Thank you, Jane, for welcoming us into your Hall of Fame family.Jeff Idelson, who is the president of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Thank you so much for a smooth transition into the Hall of Fame. I'd like to thank the Hall of Fame staff for their hospitality and impeccable attention to detail. Congratulations to Rickey Henderson, Joe Gordon and my fellow Hall of Fame inductees. Also, congratulations to Tony Kubek and Nick Peters as they receive their respective awards. Thank you Dick Bresciani, Red Sox historian, who kept my stats in the public eye.

I am a husband, called Rice. I am a father, called Dad. I am a brother, called Ed. I am an uncle, called Uncle Ed. I am a grandfather, called Papa. I am a friend that doesn't call -- some of my friends know that -- and sometimes best not call at all. Finally, I do mean finally, I am Jim Rice, called a Baseball Hall of Famer.

You always feel that after every great once-in-a-lifetime moment, there cannot be anything else to top it. You find your lifelong partner, that one true love. You have your first child, and you spend hours wondering at the perfection of tiny little fingers and toes. You rejoice and cry through pre-, elementary, middle and high school, and, if you're lucky, college graduation. You marvel at how sanity endures. Right when you thought it couldn’t get any better, you have grandchildren. And a new, astonishing love blossoms.

And then after 15 years, you get a phone call that you thought you'd never get. Your aspiration realized. Your tears overflow because you know now that the highest honor of your career means so much [more] than you ever thought it would mean before. Because what it feels like most is being welcomed at home plate after hitting a walkoff home run. You find yourself repeating the same phrases over and over: "We made it. We made it. We made it."

And suddenly you think: "Where’s my wife?"

And I really didn't think I would have gotten a newsflash while watching my favorite soap opera, The Young and the Restless -- every day at 12:30 -- and that's what I was doing. Jeff knows when he called I was watching The Young and the Restless.

To me, it doesn't matter that I got called this year versus getting it in my first eligible year. What matters is I got it. A call that 20 years from now will make a great trivia question.

It is hard to comprehend that I am in a league of only 1 percent of all professional baseball players. I am in awe to be in this elite company and humble to be accepting this honor. I am also one of the very few players that spent an entire career with the same baseball team. For that I thank the Boston Red Sox, a professional baseball club where any player would be proud to spend a career.

Of course I have many people to thank and share this honor with. To do that, we're going to have to go back to my hometown of Anderson, South Carolina. By the time I was heading into my senior year at West Side High School, I had lettered in football, basketball and baseball. In 1970, my senior year, integration finally came to town. I went to pick up my schedule at West Side High School and I was looking forward to graduating with my West Side class of 1971. Imagine how I felt when I was told that I had to go to T.L. Hanna High School, which had the majority of non-blacks. Integration had come to town and the lines were drawn in such a way that kept schools as segregated as possible. I simply would not be allowed to attend my alma mater for my senior year. Evidently the city of Anderson wanted me to attend T.L. Hanna my senior year. I lived on Reese Street and the integration line stopped at Murray Avenue, excluding most black students. The line would have extended to my street, but my sister was allowed to go Hanna, not me. I was forced to leave West Side High. What could have been worse? I had to leave everything that I knew: my future wife, my friends, my coaches, my everything. I showed up at Hanna and it was like a walk in the park. I was received with open arms and so were my fellow West Side High transplants. I was even voted co-class president.

Nearing the end of my senior year, I had some decisions to make. Nebraska was offering me a four-year scholarship for football. I talked to my dad about it. My dad said, "I think you've got a better shot at becoming a professional baseball player than a professional football player." So that was it, the life-defining decision that led me to being drafted by the Boston Red Sox at the age of 18 years old and eventually being called up to the big leagues in 1974.

In the minor leagues, I went from being Ed Rice to being Jim Rice. I was a quiet leader, not a follower. I played through the pain and I suffered. No regrets. Well, wait a minute. Maybe those last few at-bats in 1989 that saw my .300 average drop to .298. That I do regret.

Along the way, there were many people who gave me encouragement and shared their wisdom.

First and foremost, my wife, who after 37 years of marriage, still gives me relevant tips and advice whether I want it or not.

Julia Mae and Roger, my parents. If they were alive today, they would be so proud.

Thomas MacDuffy, who treated me like his own son, always helping me out, even giving me a kangaroo glove. And I think it was a Willie Mays glove at the time. I think at the time Willie Mays and Hank Aaron both had the kangaroo gloves, but they both were great.

John Moore, my West Side High School coach from the seventh grade. John taught me things that they were teaching me in minor leagues, so I learned techniques that minor league coaches were teaching players when I got there.

Olin Saylors. I played American Legion ball for Post 14. He came by my house every day and picked me up. I didn't really want to play ball, but Olin was very [determined] to make me play baseball for American Legion Post 14.

Mitch Brown and Sam Mele. I really thank those guys for signing me.

Rac Slider took me up under his arm as far as being an Instructional League manager of mine and I went to Florida to work on my skills. The things I remember the most about going to the Instructional League were those hot wool uniforms where you had to go down to spring training and work every day.

Don Zimmer. He believed in me. He was my mentor. Zim was more of a manager and a father figure to me.

Johnny Pesky was my personal hitting instructor. Don Zimmer, the manager at the time, told Pesky to stay with me day and night. Pesky took me under his wing when I was still a kid, kept me grounded and we could always talk. And he's still with me today.

And, of course, a good friend of mine, Cecil Cooper. My roomie, my ace, my buddy, my friend to the end.

By now you may be wondering how did I get such a notorious reputation with the media. Well you see, the media often asked me questions about my [fellow] players. I refused to be the media's mouthpiece. Of course my stance didn't really make any media friends. I came to Boston to play professional baseball and that's what I did, and I did it well until I retired in 1989. And who would have ever guessed that I would be working in media at NESN sitting across the desk from Tom Caron, allowing all of you to see my winning smile.

And here we are in 2009 and I'm standing amongst baseball elite, in front of my family, friends and fans, proudly accepting baseball’s pinnacle, a professional achievement. I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be than to be right here, right now, with you [the fans] and you [my fellow Hall of Famers].

Thank you.

Back to politics on Monday...

Diamondbacks release Tony Clark

I understand the "why" here, and how "baseball is a business" and all of that, but it still sucks...

From AZCentral.com -

In another move made in part with an eye on 2010, the Diamondbacks on Sunday released veteran first baseman Tony Clark.

Clark, 37 and in his 15th season in the majors, was hitting just .182 with four home runs in 66 at-bats.

I don't use the word often because so often, it is overused or just used cheaply, but he is truly one of the class acts in all of professional sports. He is well-liked by those who know him, and more importantly, well-respected by his colleagues and the fans.

In addition to his playing skills (this season's struggles notwithstanding, one doesn't have a 15-year career in the majors without some serious skills), he has been heavily involved in community affairs wherever he has played and in the MLB Players Association.

I first met him in 1996 or 1997 before an Arizona Fall League game in Scottsdale. He wasn't there as a player as he was already an established major leaguer by that time. He was visiting AZ in the offseason (he played college basketball at U of A) and spent some time in the Valley, catching up with some of his friends who were playing that year.

Clark handled the steady stream of fans seeking an autograph or a simple 'hello' with a ready signature and a smile.

All the while maintaining a steady conversation with the players warming up on the field.

All of this sounds sort of like a eulogy, and it shouldn't.

Clark's time with the Diamondbacks may be over, but his time in baseball isn't.

He may/should catch on with a team in need of an accomplished 1B/DH/PH with a steady, professional influence in the clubhouse. And after his playing career is over, he will be a great coach or executive in any organization or with the MLBPA. Or in any field he chooses.

Back to politics later...