Edgar Renteria, the Florida Marlins’ shortstop by way of Colombia, hears that there isn’t a television set for sale in all of Bogota.
“Everybody’s bought them up to watch the World Series,” he says.
We share this urge, but the impulse apparently is un-American. The Winter Classic, due to resume here Tuesday night unless it snows, leaves NBC colder than an editor’s heart.
Why just the other day, Don Ohlmeyer, a network mogul who should know better, wished aloud that this best-of-seven tournament would end in four, only because three is an impossible act.
Ohlmeyer has been scolded by superiors and pundits, but all he speaks is the party-pooper line. Unless it’s New York or Los Angeles, the World Series is a tough sell. (Generally, the third major market would be included in that equation, but Chicago teams abstain from October baseball).
It is true the 1985 intrastate Series between St. Louis and Kansas City pulled boffo ratings, but Ohlmeyer deserves a pass, anyway. He merely echoes the aura of negativity pervading a sport that can’t get out of its own way.
If baseball people themselves knock the product–how many times must you hear owners blast players for being overpaid before you don’t buy tickets?–then surely NBC, which purchases broadcast rights, should be entitled to do likewise.
Dumb begets dumber in baseball, a game of grinches.
The story line is actually quite appealing, if only baseball mopes would allow it to unfold. The Marlins have lit up South Florida, not the happiest corner of the planet, with their melting-pot squad. Baseball keeps insisting it wants to appeal to minorities and the crowds for Games 1 and 2 waved flags of the United Nations.
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Moreover, attendance at Pro Player Stadium, a football facility, reached 67,000, or more than double the Marlins’ in-season average. When did that last happen? Too bad NBC can’t wait to resume regularly scheduled programming.
The Cleveland Indians, meanwhile, should evoke admiration, not apathy. This is a team that went to the World Series in 1995, then turned over half the roster and hasn’t missed a beat. The Indians have undergone a personality transplant, as prescribed by John Hart, a general manager whose passion is bold moves.
Most of his peers are afraid to make a mistake, but Hart stays a step ahead of the competition because he senses the volatile pace that exists in an era of itinerant athletes. If you think the Marlins broke the speed barrier by reaching the big show in only their fifth season, hang on. Here come the Arizona Diamondbacks.
Of course, there isn’t enough talent to go around. Tony Saunders has one major-league victory over teams other than Atlanta, yet he will start here for the Marlins. But the real wasteland isn’t on the field. It’s in the executive branch, which is why Hart and counterpart Dave Dombrowski are among a precious excellent few.
The news isn’t all bad, however. This just in. Greg Murphy quits after one glorious year as director of baseball marketing, such as it is. Since nobody within the sport qualified for this job, baseball’s dunces naturally recruited him from the next most logical place, Entenmann’s. A bakery. He must have mentioned the magic word, dough.
Baseball, the perfect game, run by perfect fools.
Greg, we hardly knew ye. Now, is it OK with NBC if we watch the rest of the World Series?