Let Go The Paranoia

In light of my friend Jeff Herz' comments on children getting more playtime, I wanted to address some of the arguments against it. More specifically, I wanted to address the notion that our society is more dangerous now than it was when we were growing up.

Now, I think we could agree that the outside world is becoming a far more dangerous place to be an American. But here in America, that is simply not the case. One chief argument against that statement is that television and newspapers show more and more incidents of children being kidnapped, murdered, molested and tortured.

Here are the facts:

Crimes against children, just like all crimes, are not increasing. In fact, the opposite is happening. Take a look at this chart. At first glance, you will see that the number of serious crimes are high. And while they may have been a bit higher a few years ago, they still are much higher than when we were kids.

Now take a closer look. Scroll down.

Crime rates have dropped significantly. Sure, there have been more incidents. But there are more of us out there. The rate of crimes in 2004 and 2005 have been the lowest consecutive years since 1969 and 1970. In 1977, the year I was my son's current age, crime was 30% less than now. And as I got older, crime got worse. It wasn't until I was 34 years of age that the crime rate would match the rate when I was born.

I would like to point out, however, that crime in the inner city has not disappeared as it has in suburbia. Let this in no way assume that it is safer for children (and for adults) on the streets of our cities' more forgotten neighborhoods. However, in suburbia, the place where this widespread paranoia is taking place, it is considerably safer.

So why do we think otherwise?

We are programmed to think otherwise. We keep watching reports from television news telling us how dangerous it is for our kids out there.

Children need time to play. We have already lost a generation to overprogramming, as Jeff eloquently puts it. Generation Y is gone. They missed what we had. That doesn't mean our children have to suffer the same fate.

I say let them play.

Enter The Dojang

My downward slide into the bullied loner had already begun by the time I was nine-years-old. My parents had already seen the effects that this was having on my self-esteem. To help me learn to stand up for myself, my parents asked if I wanted to take martial arts.

Having grown up in the post-Bruce Lee era, I knew of the power and mystery of Asian arts like kung fu and karate, even at nine. They were exciting to me -- beautiful and dangerous all at once. I used to watch the kung fu movies on television with my father. My best friend and I would sneak and watch the Rated R Chuck Norris movies on cable when our parents didn't notice.

Needless to say, my answer was yes.

I can still remember that first day meeting Master Ik Jo Kang. I could barely understand a word he said, and I worried that I would fail because I couldn't comprehend. I also worried that I wouldn't be good enough -- a trait that had already begun to develop in other sports (except, not surprisingly, baseball). Right away, I wondered if this was right for me.

Master Kang taught Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido in a large dojang (studio) on Main Street in White Plains. I remember changing into my outfit that first day, and needing help tying my white belt. When I walked onto the floor, I was told right away that I needed to bow to the American and South Korean flags any time I entered or exited. I also needed to bow to any black belts already on the floor. From day one, my first lessons were about discipline and respect.

In time, I would learn some basic forms and techniques and was able to test for yellow belt. I was so nervous that day -- with so many students, parents and friends watching. Somehow I made it through and passed.

Like every other sport, I wasn't the star in martial arts. I was still in the children's class and there were always other students who were better than me. They could kick higher, or they were stronger, or they had more snap to their movements. I was never one of the better students. Still, I was able to use my mind and remembered everything well enough to pass each test and earn another belt.

As time went on, many of the other kids who were better than I was dropped out. Soon, I became the senior and most respected of the children's class.

That is around the time Master Walter Eddie took me under his wing. First, he convinced my parents to move me to the adult class. At this point I was about thirteen. The bullying had reached its climax, but I had already proven (though not yet to myself) that I was tough enough to withstand any of it.

Back then, we sparred nearly every class. And we did not have the padding we have today. We wore cups, gloves and foot pads. The purpose of sparring was not to win points, but to learn, to gain confidence and to gain experience. I was thirteen looking up at a full-grown adult, thinking to myself, "what have I gotten myself into?"

What I got myself into was the best confidence-building lesson I could have had. Fighting adults -- and holding my own -- helped with my self-esteem. I saw myself differently and I gained a new determination.

When I began high school, I promised myself I would no longer be bullied. I would not allow it. I found out that most kids feared crazy kids. So I acted crazy. It worked. Most everyone dared not to challenge me. Those that did faced a different person than the one who used to take it.

One season I volunteered to assist the coaches of the football team. It was fun and passed the time on Saturday afternoons. One particular Saturday, the weather was so awful that they actually cancelled the game. Football players get themselves worked up to a near frenzy before the game and were left to do something with that energy. The second string center thought he could release that energy by pushing me around. We were in the gym and another kid was there. He pushed me a couple of times. I looked him in the eye and warned him if he did it again he'd get hurt. He took a look at my smaller size and assumed I couldn't hurt him so he pushed me again. Without thinking, I spun around and gave him a backside kick to the stomach followed by a backfist to the cheek. He was a little hurt and very embarrassed. He walked away. The following Monday he wanted to be my friend.

I had developed a defense against the enemy. I had learned from all those years of training. And I had the courage to execute.

Still, I was not ready for the final test.

That would come a short while later in the basement of my parents' house.

Why I Still Hope

It is a difficult time in the world. Whatever is left of American culture has been swallowed up by consumerism. People with little to offer society make more headlines than the very people trying to protect it. Our pastimes, our art, or cuisine have all been corrupted by mass marketing or cheating or unsafe toxins. Cold corporate retail stands where mom and pop pharmacies and hardware stores once stood.

In the larger world more and more people are hating us every day. Bad people, yes. But also good people. And the people who have been sworn in to protect us have proven that they have more in common with the enemy than with the ideals that once meant something. Our rights, rights our forefathers risked their lives for us to have, are slipping away in the name of protecting the American people. All the while our children are pressured to accomplish more and to gain more while we provide them with less -- less time for nurturing, less education, less love. Instead, they are at home being force-fed lectures on their future and unnatural, processed food products that turn them into obese and unhealthy kids.

Yet, I stand today and still believe we can make the world a better place.

Yes, I still have hope.

As long as one young man chooses not to turn to drugs and gangs, there can be peace on the streets.

As long as one teenage girl recognizes that shallow manufactured stars are not role models, women can achieve equality.

As long as one African-American student is accepted into college based on his academic merit, there can be racial equality.

As long as one baseball player continues to play shortstop for the New York Yankees, there can be fair play in sports.

As long as journalists like Judith Miller, Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams continue to refuse to give up their sources, there can be free press.

As long as someone says, "this is not what Jesus (or Moses, or Mohammed) meant," there can be religious reform.

As longs as someone recognizes that Fox is not News, we can return to better media reporting of events.

As long as one politician stands up against the current administration, there can be healthy debate.

As long as one citizen knows he or she can make a difference, there can be a democracy.

As long as there are people out there -- people like my mentor, people like my wife, people who have devoted their careers to improving the lives of others, the world can be a better place.

And as long as I continue to write, there is someone who still has hope.

The Trouble With Not Washing Your Hands

Cheating is wrong. Period.

I don't care if you're injecting yourself with Human Growth Hormone to shatter Henry Aaron's record, loading your bat with cork or putting pine tar on your hands. You are a cheater and unfit for professional baseball.

The trouble is I am more or less alone in this belief.

Think about it: the Bay area disagrees with me. Their hero is a cheater. St. Louis disagrees. They are still broken hearted by how their hero looked so small in front of the Senate. Chicago booed their bat corker out of town, but it wasn't for corking his bat.

New York doesn't agree with me. Graig Nettles and Jason Giambi's popularity are proof of that (for those not in the know, Graig Nettles filled his baseball bat with super balls, which once bounced all over the infield in a game when his bat broke).

San Diego, Atlanta and all the other cities where Gaylord Perry and Phil Niekro played also disagree.

And now we can add Detroit.

I'm still rooting for the Tigers. But this Series, like all of baseball is once again tainted -- stained like Kenny Rogers' hand.

I found it poetic, however, that this should happen against a Tony LaRussa team. Tony LaRussa, whom baseball experts consider a great manager and a "good baseball man", managed young players that are now household names like Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire and Jason Giambi. He managed the Cardinals in McGwire's '98 season. And he defended his stars time and again.

Perhaps he didn't insist the umpires check Rogers for that reason. Perhaps he was afraid Jim Leyland would return the favor and force Albert Pujols and Jim Edmonds to pee in a cup.

Baseball was never a clean sport. It seems this, the 102nd World Series, is the showcase of what's always been wrong with it.

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

It is my nature to communicate. Questioning and challenging those in authority roles is a huge part of who I am, who I was and who I always will be. It's one of the reasons I began this blog last year.

With that in mind, there are moments, like this one, when someon else speaks or writes words that are not only in line with what I believe, but are far more eloquent.

And so it was on October 18th when Keith Olbermann had this to say on MSNBC.

Congratulations, Sir. You took the words right out of my mouth.

Baseball Ends In the Big Apple

The Yankees and the Mets ended the regular season tied for the best record in baseball. Both teams fell short of their goal -- winning the World Series. For one team, as disappointing as it was, the outcome was inevitable. But for the other, the team whose dreams were dashed last night, this was supposed to be their season. Instead, Met fans watched the season end just as Carlos Beltran watched strike three.

So what happened?

The Yankee failure was more obvious and, I predict, will happen again in 2007. There are only four or five championship caliber players on that team. The rest are talented but pampered and selfish and they lack the manager who can light a fire under them.

The Mets, however, lost to a team that finished the season 83-79. These were the same Mets that had played all season long like the Tigers played this postseason. I believe they lost for a number of reasons.

• Injuries: well, of course! Losing Pedro Martinez was tough to overcome. Losing El Duque made their postseason look even more bleak. There is no doubt this hurt the Mets. But it is not the only reason, nor is it the biggest reason -- El Duque and Pedro could not have pitched any better than Mayne and Perez did in games 6 & 7. Period. What it did do, however, was put excess pressure on sophomore manager Willie Randolph who...
• Overused the bullpen: While this is going to be an unpopular truth, it is truth nonetheless. Willie Randolph, who deserves mountains of praise for what he accomplished with this team in the regular season, also deserves some blame for their untimely defeat. This series was not lost on Aaron Heilman's changeup (a bad fall guy, if you ask me -- he's one of the heroes of this team). This series was lost in Los Angeles. In the three game sweep of the Dodgers, the already overworked Met bullpen were forced to eat up a ton of innings. It was also true early in this series. Randolph showed such little faith in his starters that he tired out his greatest asset. And the team paid dearly for it.
• He's no Mariano: They may play in the same city. The may play the same position. And they may even have the same music played when they walk to the mound. But make no mistake, Billy Wagner has nothing in common with Mariano Rivera. Or Trevor Hoffman, for that matter. Or Todd Jones. Billy Wagner throws as hard as anyone in baseball history. But he's too darn hittable. And the more the Mets needed him, the worse he performed. Look at it this way, if Randolph had faith in him, he would have been out on that mound in the top of the ninth, not poor Heilman.
• Dead bats: Great performances by Suppan aside, the Mets hitting in the last four games was atrocious. They couldn't even hit Jeff Weaver, for crying out loud. You need pitching to win. But you still need to generate some offense.
• A-Rod plays for the Mets? Called strike threes are simply awful any time a player does it. I'll take a guy who strikes out swinging over a looker any day of the week -- at least the guys who swing may hit the ball. What Carlos Beltran did in the bottom of the ninth is unacceptable. When you are a three, four or five hitter you better be prepared to swing. The season was on the line. You do not watch any close pitch go past. If he swung and missed, we could all forgive him. This, however, is just plain bad baseball.

So now baseball moves to the midwest for a fall classic no one would have picked in spring training. The former laughingstocks known as the Detroit Tigers take on the team tied for the worst record ever of a league champion in the St. Louis Cardinals (the 1973 Mets had the same record -- and lost to the Oakland A's in seven).

I don't anticipate St. Louis putting up much of a challenge against this Tiger ball club. They've got too much heart and determination -- and good health.

Tigers in five.

Sleep On This

In a democracy, we are responsible for the actions of our government. You cannot claim that, because you voted for the opposition, that you are exempt from blame.

We are not forced to do what we do. We in the United States have free will.

Therefore, the report that was published this morning that approximately 655,000 Iraqis have been killed since we invaded should horrify you.

We are responsible for this. All of us. We the People did this to Iraq.

We cannot wash the blood of the dead from our hands. That is impossible. But what we can do is take the necessary steps to stop the war and repair whatever we can.

The first step is to vote in November for Democrats in the Senate and in Congress.

I used to believe that at least the Republicans were decisive and that was better than what the Democrats offered. I was wrong. Republican leadership has taken several steps to destroy the country our founding fathers risked their lives to build.

Think about this: George Washington was willing to lay down his life for the ideals of freedom and democracy. He made a conscious decision to go to war against, and kill, British soldiers. What do you believe he and the other founding fathers would do if they woke up to find their America had become a state where corporations dictate policy, where the administration removes liberties from its citizens and where our armed forces are wasting energy and lives in a place that was not a threat to our way of life.

Do you think George Washington would sit still if he knew 655,000 Iraqis have been killed under the flag of the nation that he devoted his life to create?

No. He would do something about it.

And we must as well.

Eef!

It's taken this long to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I am finally able to write about what has become an annual event: the crash and burn of the New York Yankees' season. For the fifth consecutive year, the Yankees have failed to live up to expectations. I've come up with a list of reasons why this has happened and some possible solutions to bring this team back to its former glory.

• Pitching: Yankee pitching has declined steadily since 2001, the last season the Yankees "earned their stripes" (I know they lost in 2001, but they played with such heart and deserve credit). This was their worst of it. Randy Johnson was a mistake. So was Jaret Wright. Mussina pitched fair all season, despite not being able to hold the lead in Game 2. Only Wang and Super Mariano were effective all season. The rest of the bullpen was a disaster.
• Clutch Performance: It should not come as a surprise to anyone that both Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada hit .500 in the ALDS. They are from that 90's dynasty. And Damon hit well in games one and two. Beyond that, this supposed "Murderer's Row and Cano" looked more like the Hitless Wonders. I know everyone can point their fingers at A-Rod, and rightly so, but everyone else is also to blame here.
• Alex Rodriguez: Let's face it, he is living proof that sabremetrics and stats-lovers just don't get it. The guy is the poster boy for chokers, passing Randall Cunningham and Patrick Ewing on the all-time list. He has enormous talent but is so afraid of failing that he fails every time. He's an embarrassment.
• Chemistry: The Yankees managed to get a nice chemistry going through the year, despite (or perhaps because of) losing Gary Sheffield and Hideki Matsui. During the playoffs, Torre upset that chemistry by benching Melky Cabrera, one of the keys to the team's regular season success, in favor of these "stars". And Sheffield at first? That is something you try in April, not October.
• Leadership: I am Derek Jeter's biggest fan. I also love Joe Torre. But the team captain and the manager failed to lead this team when it most needed leading. Jeter leads by example, and that might be fine for some teams. But when there are personnel issues in the clubhouse, the captain must step up. I couldn't say that if Jeter had buried the hatchet with A-Rod and actually came to his defense this year that A-Rod would have come through. But I can say that it was the captain's responsibility to do so. He failed. And Torre should have called Jeter out on it. Torre should have cut the rift between his two star players but he chose not to. He also failed.

Now, the Yankees are in a bind in that many of their bad contracts mean they can't overhaul the team. What they can do, however, is make a few necessary changes that will shake things up and perhaps light a fire under those remaining players (like Giambi and Abreu) who may need it.

• Fire Joe Torre: Unpopular as it may be to do this, it is necessary. Joe Torre is great at managing players who play like he did. But Paul O'Neill, Tino Martinez and Scott Brosius are long since retired. The team is now filled with pampered free agent babies. They don't have that fire within them like the Yankees of old. Joe, for all his enormous talents and successes, cannot manage this team. And while I think Lou Piniella probably could, I think a better choice would be Joe Girardi. Girardi is enough like Torre to be able to manage New York well, but young enough to still have a fire in his managing ability (just ask Jeff Loria).
• Fire Mattingly, Mazzilli and Guidry: Bring in a whole new staff. Imagine the genius of David Cone as pitching coach. Imagine Paul O'Neill as bench coach -- how is that for fire?
• Trade A-Rod: He is still marketable. Let's not forget this. The Yankees may need to take a chunk of his salary to get rid of him, but they can trade him to a place like Anaheim for much needed pitching.
• Trade Matsui: Another unpopular but necessary decision. Abreu isn't going anywhere. Neither is Damon. And, frankly, Melky Cabrera is better for team chemistry. There are few players as marketable. Trade for a starting thirdbaseman and a young reliever.
• Do not re-sign Sheffield: Just get rid of the guy. He's bad for any team, I don't care how talented he was.
• Re-sign Mussina: He may have failed in game 2, but he is still a consistent starter and can give you innings.
• Get rid of Wright: I don't care how, but he must go. And while we're at it, try to send Randy Johnson and Carl Pavano to the retirement home.

Maybe, and just maybe, if these things are done, the Yankees can once again be champions.

Never Should Have Happened

I've written about this before, so it is no secret. Aside from being bullied and abused by my classmates in grammar school, I suffered abuse of a different kind at the hands of someone else.

I was not raped, not in the way we think of males being raped. But it was definitely sexual in nature and it was most definitely unwelcome.

It happened more than once, by the same person and the same person only. I never told anyone about it until I was in recovery from the night my life crashed down, about two and a half years ago.

When it happened, I felt what most boys feel when they suffer through this. I felt shame. I felt an immense sense of guilt. I felt alone. I know now that I could have told my parents and they would have done everything in their power to relieve me of my shame and guilt. But I didn't tell them. What kids do?

I'm thirty-six now. It's been about twenty-five years or so since it happened to me. I am no longer ashamed of it or feel guilty about it. It was not my fault. I did nothing wrong. But that is now. For years it was, as the song says, "another brick in the wall". It was one of so many things that had happened in my childhood that never should have happened, but did and added to the self-hatred and rage that had already begun to grow inside of me.

By the time I was thirteen years old, I wasn't just another scared little kid. I was terrified. I trusted no one. I was headed into the eighth grade without any hope of defending myself against the world.

And the world had proven itself to be an enemy.

DE-rek JE-ter!!!

One of my favorite movies is a baseball/coming-of-age flick called The Sandlot. There is a scene in it where the film's hero, Benny Rodriguez has a dream where he meets Babe Ruth. The Great Bambino says to Benny, "Heroes get remembered, but legends never die."

We have seen baseball legends before. Babe Ruth, obviously coes to mind. Moments where "heroes" cross the threshold to "legendary status" are always memorable: Reggie Jackson's three home runs in 1977 or Curt Schilling's performance with the bloody sock. Both of these players were great before. But it took moments like the ones we witnessed above that made them legends.

Last night Derek Jeter crossed that threshold.

He'd been an outstanding ballplayer before. Jeter's performance in clutch situations goes beyond his peers. The diving into the stands, the throwing out of Jeremy Giambi, the first inning home run against the Mets, and others, had already put DJ in elite company.

But five-for-five? Not that was something else. Look at the numbers: two singles, two doubles, one home run, three runs scored and one run batted in. In addition he made one of the two key fielding plays for the Yankees, turning two to end a potential rally.

Only five other players got five hits in a postseason game. Of them, only one other did it in five at-bats. However, Jeter also now has seven consecutive postseason hits, going back to last year. No one in history has hit as many in a two game stretch (8) as he has now done.

Jeter capped off what was his best season by kickstarting his team in dramatic fashion. The Yankees won 8-4 and look better than they have in years.

And they have an immortal at short.

Mighty Mighty Tigers

My favorite baseball team is the Tigers.

No, not that Detroit team who plays in that amusement park of a stadium and fell apart at the end of the season this year. They're going to get swept by the Yankees and I couldn't be happier.

No, I'm talking about the Tigers of Milford's Junior Major Leagues, Pinto Division.

Yes. My son's team.

The players all have colorful nicknames -- Hit Man, Thunder, Magnet, Steel, Natural, Flash, Hammer. They play up to their nicknames as well.

The Hit Man cannot be judged by his size. He packs a wallop and seems to be perpetually on base.

Thunder proves day in and day out that a girl can play just as tough as any boy.

Magnet seems to do everything well. His forte is his uncanny ability to get the ball into his glove.
Steel hits like Super Man.

Natural is the one who just plain gets it when it comes to baseball. He has that instinct.

Flash can hit and he's a hustler in the field. But to watch him run the bases is the best thrill of all.
And Hammer, the team's slugger. He does to doubles in this league what his nickname-sake did to homers in Milwaukee and Atlanta.

They are the youngest, least experienced team in the Pinto Division. We the coaches expected a season of hard knocks and learning -- lucky to pull off a victory or two. We've played nine of ten games and are 5-4.

This team never quits. They have that relentless quality reminiscent of Derek Jeter or Pete Rose. They play every minute of every inning.

Last night they played the best, most experienced team in the league -- you know, the League Commissioner's son's team. They had a huge first inning but quickly fell behind. They needed a big inning in the fourth. And they got it. Three doubles hit in that inning, each hit further than the one before. They tied the game at nine.

They went on to lose, but not without a fight. Magnet made two double plays on his own. Steel fell to the ground after stopping a grounder toward first. He dove over and tagged the base before the runner could get there. Hammer hit a Baltimore chop to the pitcher's mound that should have been an easy out, but he sprinted all the way to first base. Had it been any other team in the league, he'd have beaten the throw.

I love the Yankees and all. The Mets aren't bad either.

But I am a proud Tigers fan.
* * * * *
Did they or didn't they? Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte have been named as cheaters, according to the Los Angeles Times' report on Jason Grimsley's statement. Yet now Grimsley's attorneys and others not related to either former Yankee starter are saying the Times article is inaccurate and that Grimsely said that "never in a million years" would Rocket and Andy cheat. I guess the truth will come out soon enough. I hope that it's the latter that is true. Not these guys. That would be devastating.
* * * * *
I'll devote tomorrow's blog to the 2006 season and how my predictions went. But I am proud to say that I called the Yankees and the Mets, as well as the demise of the Red Sox. This has been a terrific baseball season through and through. I hope the postseason is just as exciting.
* * * * *
Here's a rhetorical question regarding the American League MVP: how can a Most Valuable Player come from a team that has three candidates for Most Valuable Player? Wouldn't the three candidates nullify each other? Santana, Mauer and Morneau of the Twins all had MVP-caliber seasons, and that is why none should win. The true MVP candidates are Frank Thomas (as he goes, so goes the Athletics) and Derek Jeter (for carrying a team when literally EVERYONE else was either injured or named Alex Rodriguez). While I prefer Jeet, I'm comfortable with Thomas winning.
* * * * *
Who wins the NL Cy Young? No one posted even 17 wins. There was not a single NL pitcher who had a season like Chien-Ming Wang. And Wang won't even get a single first place vote for AL Cy Young (this award should go unanimously to Johan Santana). Maybe it's time for a closer to get it. If I had a vote, it'd be for Trevor Hoffman.
* * * * *
The AL Manager of the Year is pretty much a lock (Leyland). And while in the NL there are so many reasons why choosing Willie Randolph is the right thing to do, all who have a vote should vote for Joe Girardi. Taking that team with that payroll (combined Marlins payroll was less than the salary of any of the following individuals: A-Rod, Manny Ramirez, Derek Jeter, among others) to the brink of the playoffs warrants serious consideration. Doing it in Florida with crowds averaging that of the Bridgeport Bluefish is even better. And if that isn't reason enough, he's about to be fired by the worst person ever to be involved in Major League Baseball (and that includes a long list of very bad people). A vote for the perfectly qualified Joe Girardi is a vote against Jeffrey Loria.
* * * * *
I only wish Pedro could be on the mound in this postseason.