MLB Cheating is a Crying Shame - by Scott Goldberg

I guess there is no crying in baseball—however what the Astros did is a crying shame. They cheated and won and mostly got away with it.  Alex Cora took what he learned to the Red Sox and won there—he learned cheating pays. He is now out of a job as is the Astros manager and GM.  The punishments aren’t severe enough.

I believe sports mirror the society we live in.  I can’t help but see parallels to our current political climate.  How politicians have placed party above country. How being honorable and moral are less important than winning.  How the ends justify the means. Is it any wonder baseball players, managers and front offices have placed team ahead of the game.  There is no honor in what these teams accomplished nor should there have been any glory. Doing irreparable harm to the game you espouse to love in the name of competing is a disgrace.  MLB cannot deal too harsh a penalty. Whatever is done is not enough.

I must admit I haven’t followed this travesty closely.  It’s too disturbing. I haven’t delved into all the underlying numbers.  I do know the Astros (and I assume the Red Sox) hit exceedingly better at home than on the road.  I know Clayton Kershaw underperformed in his outing at Minute Maid Park and the narrative became more about his inability to dominate in the playoffs (i.e. he’s choking).  Pretty unfair when the other team knows what pitch is coming through no fault of his own.

All sports have some form of deceit.  Soccer and basketball players flop, football players will have mysterious injuries to stifle their opponent’s momentum, and of course there is legitimate sign stealing in baseball.  There is a line in all sports. Sometimes that line is blurry. What the Astros and presumably the Red Sox did obliterate any sense that a line even exists.

I don’t totally know what to make of it.  I think about my upcoming fantasy draft. Are players like Bregman, Altuve and Betts still worthy of first round picks?  I am so disgusted, I’m not sure I want to participate in fantasy baseball at all this year. A baseball boycott seems a reasonable response for fans whose trust in the integrity of the game has been stolen.

I have been a Cleveland Indians fan for my entire life.  World Series appearances can be counted on one hand; wins---nada and I was born in the same year as the Super Bowl.  There is nothing I want more in sports than for the Indians to win a World Series. I am not sure how I would feel if the Indians finally won only to discover they cheated to do so.  Euphoria to disgust. I am not sure I could forgive the game.  

I know to some my reaction may seem overblown.  I actually feel the opposite. Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite watching football when I see players heads getting smashed and I know they are risking significant brain injury.  I get it that they know the risks at this point, but if fans like me stop watching revenue goes down and thus the incentive to risk brain injury goes down as well. How do I go back to watching baseball and thereby implicitly forgive behavior I really have no interest in forgiving?  Frankie Lindor’s smile will suck me back in, but I am warning you Baseball you’ve got two strikes. 

What I Learned at Chris Collaros' Funeral - by Scott Goldberg

I know for many, attending a funeral is difficult—knowing what to say to family or being around grief can be uncomfortable. For me, there is a closure that occurs at funerals that I find helpful. What I have invariably learned at funerals is the things we often view as frivolous are actually the things that resonate with people. They are things that connect us to each other and specifically to the person we have lost and come together to honor.

This past week I attended the funeral of Chris Collaros. Chris was the principal at Wickliffe, the elementary school my kids attended. My youngest is now a freshman in high school, so it’s been awhile since we have been active members of the Wickliffe community.

Nevertheless, the evening before the funeral my daughter (now a junior in high school) and I paid our respects at the funeral home. We weren’t alone. We arrived around 6 pm and wound our way through a line that took about an hour and a half to reach the family. Apparently, it had been this way the entire calling hours which began at 3 pm. Throughout the funeral home were mementos of Chris’ life. Most poignant were the notes, cards and pictures from Wickliffe students some with encouraging messages, and others just reporting on the current happenings at school and letting him know he was missed. One wall was decorated with some of the colorful ties Chris wore including his beloved Pittsburgh Steelers—as a Browns fan it reminded me even Chris Collaros had his flaws. We saw alumni families like ours, younger families with kids still attending Wickliffe, and we hugged past teachers that nurtured my kids and taught them about things like compassion and empathy that come in so handy at moments like these.

When we reached the family, I recounted to one of Chris’ daughters how our family was nervous when Chris became principal at Wickliffe. We had gotten to know the previous principal, Dr. Fred Burton and loved the community he had created at Wickliffe. But it didn’t take long for us to realize what Dr. Burton already knew--that Wickliffe was in good hands.

The next day at the funeral, I learned a lot I didn’t know about my kids’ principal. Back in the day, Chris Collaros was a football star in blue collar Steubenville. Mellancamp’s Jack and Diane running through my head—for Chris was Jackie—he was “a football star”. Good enough (and smart enough) to earn a scholarship to Princeton.

I learned Chris took the work he did quite serious, but I never felt like Chris took himself too seriously. Promoting progressive education in Upper Arlington is probably not as easy as Chris made it look. It wasn’t always clear to me what progressive education meant. But I knew it involved experiential learning, celebrating all kids, and respecting and tolerating all their differences. The result of which created a special community that our family is proud and grateful to be a part of.

I did know Chris played the guitar. Chris played in a band along with Fred Burton and a few other school administrators and they called themselves Principally Speaking. The band was a staple at the annual Wickliffe fundraising event. Chris brought his guitar to Wickliffe Town Meetings, Golden Star Choir performances, and occasionally on his visits to classrooms. The funeral was filled with music. Beautiful, uplifting music performed in part by the Upper Arlington High School choir.

The funeral was poignant and sad (I’ll admit I cried) for we had lost a great man who provided a wonderful learning environment for our kids, but I also left grateful to have known him. And even more grateful for the impact he has had on my children, my family, all the kids that graced the halls of Wickliffe, all the kids that then are affected by the spirit of Wickliffe when those kids move on to middle school and high school, well the impact is immeasurable.

Often what is written in pencilstorm can seem frivolous or beside the point. Somebody’s top five concerts, the Buckeyes prospects this season, or which Cleveland team is about to break my heart. But music and sports have a way of connecting and uniting people. It’s often how we explain our connections to our close friends and loved ones. That’s the exact opposite of frivolous—it’s vital and makes life worth living.

I wish Chris was still around to greet kids as they enter Wickliffe with that gapped-tooth infectious smile of his. Frankly, I wish he was around for next football season so he could witness the pounding the Browns are about to inflict on the Steelers and get a small taste of what it’s like to be a Browns fan for say the last 40 or so years. Thinking about Chris the song Forever Young keeps running through my head—not the Rod Stewart song, but the one by Alphaville (I had to look that up). I guess a job that requires you to be around kids all day can do that for you. He was a lucky man.

So next time someone who has touched your life passes, take the time to attend their funeral. You will be reminded of why they meant so much to you and you may learn something new about them. It will likely give you a chance to reflect on them, perhaps laugh about some anecdote, and cry a little too. I did all that at Chris’ funeral. And as the wise coach Jimmy Valvano said if you do all those things you’ve had a full day, you’ve had a heck of a day. - Scott Goldberg

Tribe Musings - by Scott Goldberg

For me there are basically two types of Cleveland sports fans: 1) This is the year--no matter how bad the last two decades have been (Browns—lately, Indians—‘60’s and 70’s) or how many tragic failings (Indians—lately, Browns—the fumble, the drive), this is the year we reach the mountaintop (for the Indians that means win the World Series, for the Browns that means finish above .500); and 2) This team will definitely break my heart.  There are the rare fans that can combine the two, but I have generally been in category 2 since the year Sports Illustrated put Joe Carter and Corey Snyder on the cover of its baseball preview issue circa 1987?? Geez, I am old. 

This year feels like when you ate that carry-out even though you probably should have thrown it out sorta year.  Gone are the bats of Encarnacion, Brantley, and Alonso, and bullpen arms Andrew Miller and Cody Allen.  I'll admit I'm not going to miss Encarnacion--his numbers look good, but it always felt like his homers came when we were already up 5 runs and struck out when the game was on the line.  It also feels like Miller and Allen's best years are behind them--like 2016 when we should have beat the Cubs in the f-ing World Series.  Brantley is going to have a big year.  Hidden somewhere in the middle of the Astros lineup, he probably ends up having champagne poured over his head as the Astros win the World Series.  Alonso seemed to have a lot of big hits, but my guess is the return of Carlos Santana will be about a wash at first base. 

Other than bringing Santana back, the Indians have done little to improve their roster.  The theory seems to be that the AL Central is so weak that they need to do little to solidify their position at the top of the division.  This gives the Tribe the luxury to find out if some of their young players are ready to be every day contributors or go out mid-season and find a piece or two for the playoffs.  I trust the front knows stuff I don't about the make up of this team, but I thought the half burrito in the fridge from last week was still good and I was wrong, very wrong. 

Lindor and Kipnis won't be available opening day.  And although, the Indians survived most of last year without Kipnis (and could again this year), we need Frankie.  It's not just his bat (he is a fantasy stud) or his glove (at least above average--he's no Omar), but mostly it's his smile.  He is the leader of the team along with Tito and makes sure everyone is loose and having fun.  He is a joy to watch and it's clear his joy is infectious for both his teammates and the fans.  Then this week Jose Ramirez gets carted off the field.  Thankfully, the injury seems minor, but the Indian’s prospects change in a heartbeat if Jose isn't in the lineup. 

The bright spot should be starting pitching.  Apart from the Tribe shopping Kluber and Bauer this offseason (what the hell was that about) and Bauer's dissatisfaction as to how he was treated in arbitration, the rotation looks to be perhaps the best in baseball.  Let's just hope Tito can save them so they have something left for the post-season.  The bullpen was shaky at best last year, doesn't feel like they added much to improve, but my sense is they won't be any worse than last year. 

Couple of guys I see stepping up this year: Leonys Martin and Greg Allen.  Not totally sure why I feel this way, but tried to pick them up late in my fantasy draft and missed on both, so that tells me others might be thinking the same thing.  

It's spring--let the games begin.  Go Tribe.  Oh, and did you here the Browns got Odell….

EQUAL UA - by Scott Goldberg

I attended an event held by EQUAL UA.  You may have seen their yard signs around town—EQUAL Together We Are Better. EQUAL UA is an organization with the goal of fostering a welcoming and tolerant community.  A place where differences can be celebrated and appreciate rather than ignored or assimilated.  

Two brave young (especially when compared to me) black men raising their families in UA spoke about their experiences in our community.  They both spoke of racist encounters right here in UA. They then went on to discuss an incident involving a young black boy who was stopped by the police for suspicious activity in UA back in July.  The suspicious activity—delivering newspapers. I was embarrassed as they described these incidents that not only had they occurred in the community I call home, but that I wasn’t even aware that any of it had occurred.  

The young men described why they chose to live in UA.  Their answers weren’t very different than my own—Great schools, beautiful parks and homes, and safe neighborhoods in which to raise their families.   

I have always been fascinated by intersection of sports, race and politics.  I know for many sports is a place to escape and just appreciate athleticism or root zealously for their team.  Perhaps for them “Shut Up and Dribble” resonates. For me, the athletes I admire the most—those closest to being heroes have walked that tightrope.

For me, no one has stood taller than Arthur Ashe.  I grew up playing tennis and truth be told Ashe’s prime was already behind him by the time I began paying attention to tennis players like McEnroe, Borg, Connors and Lendl.  But Ashe was still sort of around most notably as Davis Cup captain for the USA team. And also as an activist; an early voice denouncing apartheid in South Africa.

Beyond that Arthur Ashe was super cool. Sort of Obama before Obama.  As Davis Cup captain, his attempts to reign in the volatile behavior of McEnroe (always) and Connors (on the few occasions he was willing to play for his country) were a struggle.  But with Ashe it was clear winning wasn’t everything; how you played the game, how you represented your country were equally if not more important than the outcome. That is why what happened in the Women’s US Open final, played on Arthur Ashe Stadium Court was all the more remarkable.

Serena Williams was attempting to win another grand slam title, her first since taking time off to become a mother.  Her opponent, Naomi Osaka, was seeking her first grand slam title at the age of twenty. I had seen enough of Osaka’s play earlier in the tournament to know this had the chance to be a really competitive match.

The young Osaka was the better tennis player that day, but unfortunately the match won’t be remembered for the outstanding tennis.  It will be remembered instead by the controversy between Serena and the umpire of the match. By the time the match ended, Serena had been imposed with three conduct penalties the last of which included a one game penalty that all but sealed the match for Osaka.  

But on this day, Serena was no champion (or was she a champion of some bigger cause?).  Her behavior closer resembled McEnroe than it did Ashe. And that seemed part of Serena’s frustration—that she was being treated differently because she is a woman.  What went unsaid was that perhaps she was being treated differently because she is a black woman.

Although the initial conduct penalty was for coaching which in her mind branded her a cheater.  The penalty stemmed from her coach’s actions, who admitted the infraction and so if anyone was cheating it was him, but that may be splitting hairs.

Her frustration mounted as the match continued.  Osaka had an answer for every shot Serena threw at her.  Eventually causing Serena to smash her racquet after losing her service game for which she earned her second conduct penalty.  As the next game began, Osaka began the game already leading 15-0. Serena was surprised to be assessed a penalty point as perhaps she believed the umpire had rescinded the initial conduct penalty for coaching, but he had not.  Serena’s frustration grew as her composure deteriorated.

The third conduct penalty was assessed after Serena called the umpire a thief.  Serena believed the umpire had stolen a point from her when assessing the second conduct penalty (mostly because she didn’t think she deserved the first conduct penalty).  Serena was shocked that her “tame” outburst caused a third conduct penalty and with it an automatic one game penalty. So instead of being down a set and 4-3 in the second set she was now down 5-3 and Osaka needed just one more game to win the match.

Remarkably, Serena regained her composure to hold her serve to make it 5-4.  More remarkably, the young Osaka calmly held her serve one last time and she was US Open Champion.  The two champions met at the net as the crowd booed—this was no way to celebrate your first Grand Slam title.  A feat all the more impressive because of who she beat.

In her mind, Serena wasn’t just standing up for herself, but all women, and as a new mother for her daughter.  It was if she wanted to create a record that her daughter could look back to and see her mother didn’t just accept injustice, but stood up and fought it.  And I think that is worth admiring—we should all be doing more of that in our lives when we see it.

Not too long ago I was in the check out line at the grocery.  The man in front was holding a plastic bag with groceries in it and was just buying one item which he indicated he had forgotten to buy when he checked out previously.  The cashier asked to see his receipt for the items he already bought indicating it was the store policy to do so. The man walked out without buying that additional item.  He was a black man.

I wish I had walked out with him.  Or at least asked the cashier if she would have done the same to me.  Even if she had said yes, at least I would have made her think about it.  Instead, I rationalized that I had spent the last hour picking out all these groceries and I didn’t want to start over somewhere else.  I checked out, paid my bill and walked out without saying a word. I failed my community that day.

Standing up (or kneeling) for injustice can be inconvenient and uncomfortable.  I guess that is why I admire it so much when I see others taking on these burdens.  The moderator of the EQUAL UA event reminded the mostly white audience that we too have obstacles in our lives we have to overcome, but those obstacles don’t exist because we are white.  People of color face obstacles in ways its hard for me to conceptualize, but on those rare occasions when I am confronted with it, I need to do better, I need to take a stand or say something.  I hope next time I won’t just Shut Up and Dribble.

Serena’s behavior over-shadowed what should have been a celebration of women’s tennis and the rise of a new, deserving champion. Serena’s behavior also has led many to consider or reconsider the double standards that exist for woman and people of color as athletes and more broadly in our society.  Perhaps there is a lesson for our local community as we reconcile the history of UA with the goals of groups like EQUAL UA to make UA a more tolerant and welcoming place.  A worthy endeavor indeed.

May I Recommend a Book About Book Recommendations? - by Scott Goldberg

I am fortunate both in real life and on Facebook (for I know what is on Facebook is not real) to be friends with book readers.  Having never actually witnessed a friend reading, I know this mainly from requests on Facebook for book recommendations.

Responding to book recommendation requests has never been easy for me.  Does this person have the same tastes as me?  For instance, I recently read and enjoyed Lives in Ruins: Archeologists and the Seductive Lure of Human Rubble by Marilyn Johnson.  Now if I knew you, or more likely your kid, was considering a career in archeology I would say this is a must read.  Otherwise, this book is only for those curious about what a different career path might look like---spoiler alert, the grass is not always greener.  

Just as important  (ok, actually more important, especially on-line) is how I will be perceived by making this recommendation.  I want to come across as thoughtful and literate and hip and well it’s difficult when I am really not any of those things.  So I found a book that allows me to seem to be all of those things, because the author is.  And the whole book is about books the author has read.

I found this treasure meandering the shelves of the Lane Road Library.  I love libraries.  I love the ideas of borrowing and returning.  I love that it’s basically free.  I love that it provides access to just about anyone and caters to all sorts of tastes and interests.  I guess it’s sort of like the internet, but infinitely more pleasant.  Having said that, it doesn’t take long to meander all of Lane Road’s first floor book collection.  Probably 70% of the space is devoted to computers and DVDs and CDs---stuff that are not books.   And if you eliminate self-improvement, how-to, cook books and romance novels, you are left with about three shelves from which to brouse.

Anyways, there among the remaining books this spine caught my eye. Read from top to bottom: Hornby Ten Years In The Tub A Decade Soaking In Great Books. I’ve read most of Nick Hornby’s books, so this spine caught my eye.  If you like witty, concise writing often with pop culture references pick up High Fidelity by Nick Hornby.  It includes discussions of creating the perfect mix tape (remember those pre-Spotify as if I know what I am talking about having never once used Spotify, although I do get billed monthly for it for my daughter).   The book was later made into a movie starring John Cusack (although Jack Black steals it)which I enjoyed as well.

Ten Years in the Tub is a compilation of essays that ran in a magazine called The Believer which I never heard of but sounds if it might be passed out for free by folks either in free-flowing robes or in neat suits knocking at your door at inopportune times.  His mandate was to write only positive book reviews (although he often humorously complains about this limitation).  The book spans 10 years from 2003 to 2013. Each month ( a few months are combined others are skipped) Hornby lists the books he bought/acquired (he buys/gets a lot) and the books he has read.  Although there is often some overlap between the two lists, just as often they have nothing in common.  Warning—the dude reads a lot.  At any one time, I am reading one or two books and I would say I rarely read more than one book a month.   Hornby knocks out four and five books a month consistently.  And he has many of the same excuses I have for not reading more—kids, work, alcohol, kids, watching sports, alcohol and kids.  His essays sprinkle in pop culture, sports (much of it English soccer—he might call it football) and small personal events from his life.  The essays read part book review and part scenes from a really good sit-com.

Currently, I am half way through 2006 and I have compiled a list of about eight books I want to read.  At my pace that is about 8 months of reading or basically how long Trump has been our President which seems like a really long time.  I am hoping many of these recommendations will lead me to new authors and additional books by them.  To be honest, some of the most fun in reading Hornby’s essays is when you come across a book you have already read.  It sort of validates your own taste in books and who couldn’t use a little validation now and again.

So next time you are looking for a good book, get Hornby’s book and read an essay or two (they are short and addictive—insert potato chip metaphor).  Just don’t run over to Lane Road Library to grab it, I still have that copy, sucker.

I just want to briefly address my only other contribution to this fine endeavor? blogosphere? black hole? When last I wrote, the Indians had just lost the World Series and we had elected our new President.  My emotions were a little raw.

9 months or so later, the Indians are once again perched atop the AL Central and look better than last year.  If everyone gets healthy…and the starting pitching is consistent…they are primed to break my heart and crush my dreams again this Fall—hope springs eternal.  

I will say one controversial thing about the Indians.  I know this player is a fan and team favorite, but the Indians best lineup does not include Jason Kipnis.  To me eye, Jose Ramirez is a better second baseman.  With Ramirez at second, Chisenhall can play third, and then the outfield is Brantley in left, Zimmer/Jackson in center, and Jay Bruce in right.  That team is a beast.

Sorry I got off track, but last Fall I wrote that if I could change only the outcome of the World Series or the presidential election, I choose the World Series.  In my defense, I have waited my whole life for the Indians to win a World Series.  I have not waited my whole life for Hilary Clinton or any woman to be President.  Even so, looking back I can see my words were a little self-centered veering towards self-absorbed.  Which makes me think I am more like this President, that I can barely stomach, than I care to admit.  

When you don’t like someone, and if it isn’t clear I don’t like Trump, almost everything they say or do can get under your skin.  His trip to Texas in the aftermath of the flooding was a perfect example.  Does he emphasize the devastation, the human tragedy? No he focuses on the size of the crowd that came out to see him.  If he were my son (a teenager), I would smile and shake my head at his utter self-absorption.   But this guy (who acts like a child all the time) is our President.  It got me to thinking about what book I would recommend our President read—not that I believe it would change him or make a bit of difference.  The Diary of Anne Frank comes to mind as does To Kill a Mockingbird.  But the first book I would give our President is The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss.  Happy reading Mr. President. 

Scott Goldberg also wrote It's Been a Tough Month for this Indians Fan in 2016. As of this posting the Tribe have won 19 straight games.