Outside the Aviary: "No More Bad Town"

I live in a baseball town. In many ways, this is a dream situation. Even Yankee talk, to me, is better than constant blathering about College Basketball when the season is so far away (North Carolina-- guilty as charged). My coworkers, friends and all the customers I see every day have a new fire in their eyes, a renewed vigor that I seem to forget until the first week of October starts. Sure, some it is bloodlust for the failure of my team, but it is all in good spirit. That is, unless you're these kinds of assholes.

I've almost been in fights over sports. Hell, I've been in a fight over a beer from a fridge. But never-- even when it involves assbirds in Brosius jerseys in 2007 yelling about how A-Rod is going to make Reggie Jackson disappear in the record books-- NEVER have I considered beating the shit out of another man (with help) due to sports affiliations. In 2003, a man (in North Carolina, no less) traveled the length of a bar to inform my friend Miles and I that we enjoyed homosexual anal and oral sex after Aaron Boone's home run in the ALCS. He actually, red-faced and wielding his beer like an axe, screamed "Better luck next time, assholes." We had no idea he was even there. He was picking a fight. Still, I didn't take the bait.

Duane Somers, 32, of Huntingdon, Pa., and Edward McConaughey, 42, of Orbisonia, Pa, are the exact reason I can't watch sports in bars as often as I want to. They are the reason I refuse to talk shit, even when my team is triumphant. They are the reason I stopped wearing my Sox cap to work every day-- the inclination for wanting to get into a shouting match with someone who thought Derek Jeter was the best defender to ever play the game was too strong. The art of loving sports is a tough one. There are those that devour their teams and those devoured by them. It's a shame Carlos Ortez got devoured as well.

It brings up a philosophical quandary. I think the reason I haven't posted for this site and have talked about sports less and less with my friends stems to the fact that I hate the people that like sports to this insane level more than ever before. The debates, the sniping, the constant criticism of something I have no control over, the lumping of me-- a person that talks less shit than Pirates fans-- in with Massholes and maniacs who didn't know who Jacoby Ellsbury was until two weeks ago. It is as pointless to debate the merits of Jeter's defense and A-Rod's offense as it is to figure out the meanderings of Manny's mind. I could care less.

This is not to say I don't cheer. Nor is it to say I wasn't at a bar last night celebrating one of the most dominating pitching performances of my lifetime (Cowperwood Theory in motion). I was not, however, screaming in Yankee or Angel fans' faces. I wasn't running through the streets proclaiming anything in particular. I was just watching the game. That's all. Nothing crazy. I especially didn't feel the need to beat the hell out of someone because they didn't wear the same hat as me. The people yelling the loudest are driving me away from one of the things I was most in love with and best at disseminating (see also: my general apathy toward college football and its rabid fan base).

Say what you will about multimillionaires and free-agency "ruining the game." I'm happy for a few more social disconnects at this point. I really am. That just puts me one step closer to enjoying sports without the fear of assholes and hospitals. That just makes one less asshole willing to pick a fight with me over a retarded groupthink mentality. Maybe--hopefully-- it will allow one less Carlos Ortez incident. I mean, c'mon, all he wanted to do was watch the game and go home.

Outside the Aviary: "A Half Life in Two Movements"

The movement of Josh Beckett from disappointing headcase (Media's take) to All-Star caliber pitcher (actuality all along) is in motion. The reasoning has been well-documented-- his penchant for hotheadedness was a force behind his fastball and it's failure-- but psychology had only one part in Beckett's sudden rise. Alongside coaching changes and an understanding of his surroundings, Beckett's 7-0 record has more to do with function than it does mindset.

The function of a pitcher is no longer to be the star of a baseball game. Since the advent of sporting television and the highlight, the throngs of sports fans have lauded their attention on offensive output: the home run, RBI, etc. The mindset of a team, however is split in half. Nowadays, the Ted Lilly's can demand top-dollar while the Alex Gonzales' (more important due to everyday play) are scrounging for tips from teams needing to plug holes. Beckett's superiority was dormant (labeled "potential")-- especially since his domination of the 2001 playoffs. Yet, the Red Sox said that they got a proven young winner, not a prospect.

That Beckett has proven them right in a young season is not surprising. As many times as being lauded for his "stuff," he has been criticized for being bullish. His penchant for fastballs in frustrating counts was noted on practically every blog and media site in the world of Red Sox baseball. However, this bullishness is exactly why he has relied on pithing off-speed this year. He's proving that he can out-pitch anyone that has traded his pigheaded idea of being the brand-name fireballer to being a Cy Young candidate. You could see it late last year. The frustration of trying to show everyone up who was complaining about his fastball has now turned to shutting everyone up about his value over two prospects.

Why the bullishness? It's simple: Bonds' need to be the best wound up getting him the spotlight for steroids and record chases, Clemens' need keeps him continually coming back, Schilling's need makes him baseball's player-politician. Those who will not stray from the spotlight find ways to bring it to them. Beckett realized that being a jerk in a jerk town just leads to frustration (Pedro learned this as well and though Schilling refuses to learn, that's what a politician does, right?). Beckett learned that simply being the best pitcher in a major market will garner you the attention you desire. Pitchers may not be the most watched superstars, but they are the most coveted.

I call it the Cowperwood Corollary. Dreiser's trilogy of a rich man shows a character motivated not only by avarice, but the attention it garners. Cowperwood wants to be rich and powerful, but refuses to be a politician to do it. Beckett wants to be considered the ace of a staff predicated on people vying to be the ace. It's a position that since the Pedro-Schill years that has become impossible to care about unless you are a fan of the Sox. Wells, Pedro, Schill, Beckett, and Daisuke all vied (or continue to vie) for the glorious position of being lauded as the best since Clemens in the early 90's. Attention and adoration, to be sure, are motivating factors before athletic dominance.

His 7-0 start is a simple case of function over form. To be considered the best, you have to be the best. To do that, you have to fool the best hitting and most overpaid division in the league. Fastballs weren't cutting it, so Beckett changed form. To gain attention as a pitcher, you either have to be a prima donna (Pedro, Clemens) or a loudmouth (Wells, Schilling) to try and outshine the sluggers (Bonds, Ortiz--albeit in opposite sides of the spectrum, so to speak) and be the bulldog at the forefront of the pack.

You also, more than anything else, have to sacrifice to win and be noticed. Schilling was willing to sacrifice his credibility in certain circles be a mouthpiece, Bonds was willing to sacrifice his name for famous records, Pedro was willing to kill his shoulder for wins. All Beckett needed to do was refine his talent. I don't know if he is now fully realized as far as potential is concerned, but at least the struggle has shifted. The need for recognition is going to become quelled, as long as the wins keep coming. If not, the next form will come. The fans are satisfied with wins, but will Beckett be as much? If the Cowperwood Corollary is right, then no. I hope I'm am wrong, of course. All-star caliber is something worth watching, but not at the expense of feigned star power-- just ask anyone following the news of Clemens, Schilling or Bonds as of late.