The David Freese Photo Controversy?

Note the question mark.  It's part homage to the GNR album "The Spaghetti Incident?", which I always found bizarrely titled, but also just a question.  There's a controversy?  There's a debate surrounding this?

Now, first, here is the article that started the shit-storm regarding David Freese.  http://elmaquino.com/2012/11/04/freese-looked-less-than-sober-at-st-louis-bar-last-night/ It comes from @elmaquino, somebody whom I have followed for some time, and vice versa on Twitter, somebody who is one of my favorite people to follow because he (an assumption, I know nothing about EM beyond the blog and the Twitter account) is always willing to discuss whatever the day's events are.  Obviously his following is relatively small so it's different from some of the big guns in sports journalism, but I always appreciate somebody willing to defend what he says and willing to answer to criticism.

I will say, right off the bat, there is one thing about this article that I find objectionable: The headline.  The headline offers a presumption of guilt without so much as an "allegedly" or "reports say" with what I must say is fairly flimsy evidence (the whole story is based on hearsay and pictures in which he is not holding drinks and in which his inebriated nature is debatable).  But other than that, I fail to see the problem here.  Besides the headline, it's just a smorgasbord of facts.  Now, it's not a strong set of facts, but what it does is say "Here is the evidence of what happened".  It's a few guys on Twitter saying he was drunk.  The evidence, however strong the evidence is, is there.  You can draw your own conclusions.  The conclusion I've drawn, personally, is "David Freese went to a bar and according to a few people reporting anonymously on Twitter, possibly just seeking attention, he got drunk there."  It's sort of like when people argue whether or not you should teach evolution in schools--I'm an adamant believer in evolution, but I totally support also teaching creationism because I have enough of a belief in my side of the argument that mine will win out if considered equally.  But the point is, it's a story to be reported.

Just as Josh Hamilton's relapses were news-worthy last off-season, so are Freese's this year.  The situation is extremely similar--both are talented, nice guys who have serious demons and who have had problems in the past.  This isn't slander--both of them would be among the first to acknowledge this.  And if you don't think the Josh Hamilton story is significant--people are laughing off his desire for a 7 year, $175 million contract right now.  He's a few years removed from an 8.4 WAR season and has been the best hitter on the best team in the AL over the last three seasons.  If it weren't for his past, it wouldn't be outrageous that someone would offer Josh Hamilton this contract (I would consider it an excessive amount regardless, but that's neither here nor there).  David Freese is a similar player.

It's a valid criticism to ask why the media, of any size, would care about the relatively minor personal details of professional athletes.  But why does the criticism only come when the attention is bad?  Is it innocuous to obsess over if David Freese went to a bar?  Maybe.  In fact, probably.  But if the story had been "David Freese volunteers at an animal shelter and plays with sick puppies", there would have been no firestorm.  It's not a major news story--it's essentially a private citizen doing something people do every day.  But because it's David Freese, it gains attention, for the positive.  Just as Freese at a bar draws attention for the negative.

While I expect there would be some backlash over this had it been any Cardinals player, it's a different situation when it's David Freese.  David Freese is an almost cartoonish caricature of what constitutes a home town hero.  Like, I remember occasionally fantasizing in grade school about hitting the winning home run in a World Series game for, like, the Padres or something just because it was so damn implausible that a kid who grew up rooting for the Cardinals could have the storybook thing happen to him...and then it did.  And unlike Mark McGwire and Albert Pujols, by far the two biggest "stars" of my lifetime in St. Louis baseball, Freese wasn't a quiet or hesitant star--he was quiet, but he also had an inherent charisma.  He wasn't McGwire, the larger than life hero--he's a normal guy.  Everybody growing up in St. Louis knows somebody like David Freese, or so it seems.

The fact that the local sports media protects Freese should go without saying.  It's really nothing special.  They've protected players forever (poor Barry Bonds had the Chronicle reporting on BALCO while he was playing and Big Mac had the P-D scoffing that this Androstindiwhateveritis couldn't possibly be the reason for his home run production so it might as well be ignored).  They do it because people want to hear what they want to hear, for lack of a better term.  A basic rule of the internet, and media in general, is that if you want to be noticed, be negative, but if you want to be liked, be positive.  The Post-Dispatch is already noticed, so it tries to be liked, and it generally succeeds.  Bernie Miklasz has written columns in the last month about 1. Why Matt Holliday is a good player, and 2. Why John Mozeliak is a good GM.  It doesn't even matter that a vast, vast majority of fans agree with both of these points, and that nobody within the baseball industry is questioning either.  It's feel-good.  The fans want to hear about how wonderful the home team is.  The same thing happened in New York in the 1950s--Mickey Mantle was living a hard-partying lifestyle that eventually led him to an early death, but people didn't want to hear this.  They wanted to believe the legend.  And it appears, if St. Louis is any indication, they still do, and they're willing to shoot the messenger along the way.

Frankly, I hope it turns out El Maquino totally whiffed on this story, not because I wish him ill will, but because as a Cardinals fan, I quite frankly want the David Freese story to be as damn good as it often appears.  But I also hope that if this is the case, he doesn't do as Kent Brockman did on The Simpsons in the episode "Homer Defined".  In this episode, he questions Mr. Burns on the safety of his nuclear power plant as a meltdown seem imminent.  After (by fluke) the meltdown is averted, Kent Brockman says on air, "This reporter promises to be more trusting and less vigilant in the future."  That's not what the media is for--that's what PR is for.  The St. Louis Cardinals have their public relations under control and they effectively control the Post-Dispatch and Fox Sports Midwest.  They don't need another arm of it.  To make what is probably a way over-the-top analogy, there's a lot of G. Gordon Liddys taking shots at Woodward and Bernstein here.

It's one thing to question the details of the story.  I do, and hopefully EM is self-critical and does the same and works to make sure the story is told as comprehensively as it possibly can be.  It's one thing to question why it's a story--I mean, there is a presidential election in two days and there was a pretty major natural disaster a week ago; you could pretty easily argue what the value of sports journalism as a whole is.  But when you question somebody's right to publish something you don't like, or when you say any publicity to the Cardinals which is anything besides glowing, adoring, giddy fanboy praise is slander or libel, I do have a problem with that.  My journalistic bona fides are, to be generous, borderline--I was an editor for my high school paper's Opinions section and was, for a couple of unpleasant months, a staff writer for my college newspaper before I quit and gave up on journalism to such a degree that I became an accounting major.  A major part of the reason was that, for as big of a troll as I am, I defaulted to cowardice when it came to actual reporting.  I respect the hell out of those who will say something that'll scare people if it's something that needs to be said.  

We all should.

Three Reasons College Football is Simply the Best

I joined Twitter in March 2011, right as Major League Baseball was getting started, and largely because of this (at least this is my theory), I immediately became accustomed to tweeting a lot about baseball.  And thus a lot of my followers are primarily baseball fans.  And baseball is fine.  So is the NBA.  So is the NFL.  And so on.  But college football is, quite simply, the best.

A lot of people don't really give a shit about college football, but ever since I was eight years old, it has fascinated me.  The stereotypical (white) sports fan loses his mind over college basketball, which I like, but in the end, if given the choice between watching the national championship game or a NBA Finals Game 7, there's no dispute.  Even in the regular season, if my choice is watch Indiana/North Carolina or watch Lakers/Heat, I'm choosing the latter.  But college football is different--when Alabama plays at LSU next week, you could not in a million years pull me away from my television.  And here's a short list of the reasons why college football is the best.

1. Every game matters: In the NFL, you can lose six out of sixteen games and still have a reasonably good shot of winning the Super Bowl.  In baseball, the 2006 St. Louis Cardinals lost SEVENTY-EIGHT games and won the World Series--it is indisputable that one single regular season game isn't going to make or break you unless you've played with a mediocre streak for 150 some-odd games before that.  College football is different.  There has been one national champion, in the history of national champions, who had multiple losses.  Until last year's Alabama team, no team had lost its conference and won the national title.  Ever.  The individual game matters.  In 2005, Texas and Ohio State were both considered national title contenders and in the first half of September, they played a regular season game.  In college hoops, this happens all the time with tournaments, but unless a major conference team loses another twelve games, it won't dramatically hurt their overall success.  When Vince Young finished dissecting the TOSU defense, it was a dramatic blow to the Buckeyes.  In one game.  In September.  It's physically impossible to get that worked up about an NFL game.

2. Eclectic styles of play: In the end, basically every NFL team has the same style of play.  Some run marginally more or whatever, but have you ever seen an NFL team that effectively abandoned the run or the pass (in the last fifty years)?  There's an ideal strategy to offensive success in football (balanced run and pass, play-action to keep defense off-balance, etc), and since all the NFL teams essentially have equal access to build around that strategy, they do.  College football is different, though--it's like Moneyball.  Teams look for a differentiated factor, recruit guys who fit that mold, and they often achieve success.  Look, for instance, at Navy, a football program that doesn't recruit.  The offense they run is a throwback, a triple-option attack reminiscent of Nebraska's attack from the 80s and 90s.  Nebraska would recruit guys to run a style which didn't generally sell them to the NFL because the team would win, but then when the team began to falter, they opted for a more pro-style attack.  And on the opposite end of the spectrum, Texas Tech, Hawaii, and several other schools effectively abandoned the run and just throw it constantly.  But it allows things like Michael Crabtree going to Texas Tech happening--you play a certain style and then players at those key positions gravitate towards the school.  It's a never-ending process.  It's not a matter of watching a bunch of clones of each other.  The divide isn't what it once was--I envy people who grew up watching in the 70s who got to see USC airing it out, Oklahoma running the wishbone, and both teams achieving success by doing whatever they did well.  But it's still unlike any other sport.  It's like watching a team from the Dead Ball Era play against a modern swing-for-the-fences baseball team--it's about execution more than scheming.

3. Different Goals: In some ways, this is the benefit of the bowl system.  If you're an NFL team, whether you root for the Steelers or the Browns, you essentially have the same goal--win the Super Bowl.  If you're a Browns exec who sets his sights on an 8-8 record, you get run out of town.  Even in college basketball, the coach of Rider will always have some pressure to win it all, because he can.  But in college football, more than any other sport, realism prevails.  For instance, my good team of choice growing up was the Miami Hurricanes.  With Miami, especially back in the early 2000s, you expected to win a national title every year. Winning the Big East was a formality.  My earnest favorite team was Missouri--bowl eligibility was considered an amazing fear during the Kirk Farmer era.  And then, when Brad Smith and Chase Daniel happened, they upped the ante.  And in 2007, when the #1 ranked Missouri Tigers lost to Oklahoma in the Big 12 championship and were relegated out of the national championship picture, while many bandwagoners bemoaned it, all I could think was "Holy fucking shit, MIZZOU was the #1 team in the country."  It had to be the equivalent of being a German kid who saw the Beatles play in Hamburg and seeing them become the biggest musical act in the world.  And then in college, I went to Truman State, which quite frankly blows at football.  And Division II at that.  So when Truman got off to a hot start this year, it was exciting.  It was thrilling.  Getting excited about the first few games in most sports is unacceptable, but in college football, it's the name of the game.

The Best and Worst of Parody Accounts

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  Similarly, parody can be the most loving form of it.  Things are not worth parodying unless there is some sort of love there.  There’s a line between vitriol and sharp satire.  Look at This Is Spinal Tap.  At times, it’s a brutal and relentless lambasting of heavy metal and music culture but it’s also done with affection.  There’s a reason the songs of the movie became minor heavy metal classics in their own right—there is little doubt that deep down, the men behind the movie enjoy heavy metal (though obviously a part of them, possibly a larger part, finds it idiotic).

This Is Spinal Tap is the zenith of brilliant parody.  Twitter is the low point.

Now, there is such a thing as a good parody account.  The ideal parody account will take an existing person or entity, identify a few major characteristics, and exaggerate those characteristics for effect.  One of the best parody accounts for me is @FakeDanMcLaughl.  For those of you who are not St. Louis Cardinals fans, this is a parody of Dan McLaughlin, an announcer most easily identified by being an enormous homer (not only for the baseball team he covers, but for St. Louis fans and everything about St. Louis culture) and having two DUIs.  Now, an actual Dan McLaughlin Twitter account (there isn’t one) would likely be fairly boring—generally professional observations about the Cardinals or about his life and family.  But Fake Dan prospers by defining a few characteristics and running with them.  He ridicules Dan’s upward-trending speech patterns by using phraseology such as “of carse” and “gaddammit”.  He unleashes tweet frenzies during Cardinals games in which he writes in all capitals letters with excitement about how great the beloved “Cairdnals” are.  He tweets about his love of Mic Ultras.  We don’t even know that the real Dan McLaughlin likes Michelob Ultra, but it doesn’t matter, because Fake Dan became an entity unto himself.  The comedy is relentless, lacking anything resembling subtlety, but that’s not the point.  The point is humor, which Fake Dan accomplishes (for me, and it seems most people who like the Cardinals).

The next class of acceptable parodies include two of my favorites, two accounts I retweet an absurd amount because I find their niche to be brilliant—Old Hoss Radbourn and Tripping Olney.  Old Hoss (@OldHossRadbourn) works defiantly because the real man has been dead since before Babe Ruth was born.  We don’t know what Old Hoss would tweet like it.  All we really know about Old Hoss is that he won 59 games in 1884.  Theoretically, Old Hoss, whose tweets are old-timey observations about contemporary baseball (thinking something along the lines of “Bah! In my day D. Johnson wouldn’t shut down S. Strasburg unless he had conquered 50 wins or 50 harlots.”), could be any pre-World Series baseball player.  It could have been Pud Galvin and likely wouldn’t have skipped a beat.  But the combo of the nickname, being the most old-timey looking person in history, and always being able to reference the most statistically insane season in the history of baseball makes Old Hoss Radbourn work.  Tripping Olney is also, to put it lightly, a very loose parody of somebody, but this time it’s somebody we know (hell, it’s somebody who has Twitter and use to actually follow @TrippingOlney).  But he creates a distinctive personality.  Unlike, say, Faux John Madden, which is more or less a regurgitation of fairly obvious sports jokes (while maintaining absolutely no connection to the actual John Madden—too few references to the Madden Cruiser and too many references to Kim Kardashian’s appetite for black men), Tripping Olney has a style.  Besides all caps, he has a series of hashtags that I (and others) have co-opted.  Tweets like (and these are just imitations of his style) “DANIEL DESCALSO GRAND SLAM. #TRIPPING”, “NOT GIVING UP A BUNCH OF RUNS TO IMPROVE YOUR TEAM’S CHANCES AT THE PLAYOFFS IS TOO MAINSTREAM #HIPSTERCJWILSON”, or “MICHAEL BOURN COMES UP LIMPING SLIDING INTO SECOND, JOE MAUER TO GO ON DL. #JOEMAUERINJURIES” are his trademark.  They aren’t Buster Olney’s personality, but they are the parody account’s personality.  He generates his own memes rather than trying to piggyback off something fashionable.  Anyone could make a joke about being obsessed with Albert Pujols or Roy Halladay or something.  Tripping Olney obsesses with Bruce Chen.

And now on the other end…

I mentioned Faux John Madden earlier and criticized him but I’ll at least give him credit for often having funny jokes.  Twitter is full of parody accounts similar to this but with less humor.  I refuse to give specific handles for these clowns (and also because I don’t recall them because I don’t follow them because I choose not to waste my attention on Twitter), but here’s a few examples.    There is a “parody” account of Happy Gilmore which never mentions golf, never mentions Shooter McGavin (except in its bio), and never mentions being a former hockey player.  This parody of a hockey player turned golfer with anger management issues mostly posts NFL-related pictures on Lockerdome.  In what way is that parodying Happy Gilmore?  Though to Happy’s credit, though he isn’t funny, he’s sporadically original in the same way that John Madden is original—jokes which are generic but not direct theft.  For those, look at the countless parodies of Ted (as in the Mark Wahlberg movie character) which mostly just tweets jokes you can find literally all over the internet.  Though I guess there are some redeeming qualities here—nobody is following Ted thinking “Oh shit, I can follow a talking teddy bear.”  Maybe they think Seth MacFarlane is running it or something (in which case they might just want to follow the actual goddamned Seth MacFarlane) but it’s obviously a joke.

The worst kind of parody account is one in which literally the ONLY mark of the celebrity namesake is the name itself.  These accounts seem to be run by the same people, making the same set of bad jokes over and over.  The most common seems to be Will Ferrell, tweeting unfunny and unclever jokes that the real Will Ferrell wouldn’t do (he might come up with something original and funny and then proceed to beat it into the ground over five movies but that’s a different issue altogether).  Also seen several of Daniel Tosh.  Now, Daniel Tosh has a VERY distinctive comedy style, whether you like it or not.  It’s very confrontational and politically incorrect—it’s not THAT hard to parody.  Yet the parody accounts have him telling the kind of jokes you hear people make up in middle school.  You remember when Michael Richards went on that horrific, racist rant doing standup comedy and then, shortly thereafter, when Jerry Seinfeld was on Letterman, Richards gave a sincere, heartfelt apology?  And the audience LAUGHED?  This is the way we as people are trained—to see what we identify as a comedian (Will Ferrell, Daniel Tosh, Michael Richards) and laugh.  It’s easier said than done—you have to say genuinely funny things to build up that rapport.  Ferrell and Tosh did this on their own.  Screw the people who let them do the hard work and just repeat the benefits.

The absolute low point of low points, though, are parody accounts which do inspirational quotes.  Now, if Michael Jordan had Twitter, let’s be honest—he’d be whoring out for Nike.  If he had fewer followers, he’d be that celebrity who retweets anyone who asks for a retweet.  Yet apparently, in a “parody” of him, he just tweets quotes from Eleanor Roosevelt and Mahatma Gandhi because THAT’S TOTALLY WHAT MICHAEL JORDAN TALKS ABOUT ON TWITTER.  Probably the most common I’ve seen is Will Smith.  Like, why is Will Smith the one giving advice about self-confidence and other bullshit on Twitter?  What specifically did he do to justify this reverence where people are willing to just fucking accept him as some kind of guidance counselor?  Was it Men in Black 2?  Did someone see Men in Black 2 and think “The black guy should be a philosopher”?

But I go on plenty of rants against Will Smith, who I have explained already I think is a cowardly actor with absolutely no range who is clearly in it 100% for the money and not at all for anything resembling artistic credibility (if he decided he wanted to make an MLK biopic, they’d start filming it tomorrow, but that would be way too “controversial” for Will).  That’s not the point.  Whether you like him or not, most people like him.  He has a generally good reputation.  Racist old people like Will Smith.  The people who parody him are piggybacking off of Will Smith’s sterling reputation.  The bio of one of these accounts, whose title will be “The Will Smith” or something like that, will generally be something along the lines of “Actor and rapper, star of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, film actor, parody”.  Like, parody is just thrown in.  You’d be a fool to not think many of the hundreds of thousands of people following “parody” Will Smith accounts think they are actually following Will Smith.  And they’re following boring, run of the mill accounts because they think they’re actually following Will Smith.

As for me, I’m sure I’d get more followers if I changed my account to “Stan Musial” and quoted a bunch of safe quotes of inspiration (or if I put #TeamFollowBack in my bio).  But what’s the point?  Of my 170 some odd followers, some are legitimately entertained by my insane ramblings (not most, but some).  Some may legitimately be entertained by the same moronic jokes said ad nauseum by people riding the goodwill of established celebrities, and I’m sure they have more truly loyal fans (just by the numbers game), but those people suck so who cares?

Seven Essential Rules of Fuck, Marry, Kill

DISCLAIMER: This blog post is purely for entertainment purposes.  Johnapedia endorses neither the actual killing of people nor threatening to do so.

Playing a game of Fuck/Marry/Kill is kind of like running a classic rock radio station—on paper, it’s really not very difficult to do pretty well, yet many fail.  And largely, it’s due to the same mistakes.  Just as many mediocre classic rock stations fall into the traps of overplaying mediocre arena rock bands like Aerosmith or Boston, playing horrid arena rock bands like Journey or Styx, and ignoring bands like bands that didn’t play many arena shows, many ignore a few basic tenants which can make Fuck/Marry/Kill a treasured pastime.

Now, first, for those unfamiliar with the game completely, let me explain.  First, actually, let me explain to those of you who don’t know me in real life—I *love* this game, which may henceforth be abbreviated as FMK.  To me, playing FMK (when done PROPERLY) is one of the finest things a man (or woman) can do.  But it must be done well.

The game’s structure could really not be much simpler.  What happens is a person will provide another person with three names, either with names of celebrities or people who the person knows, and the receiving person must decide, hypothetically, which of the three he/she will choose to engage in holy matrimony with, which he/she will choose to engage in sexual activities with, and which he/she will end the life of.  It’s not a “game” in the sense that there are winners and losers—it’s really just an exercise in fun, relaxedness, and mental flexibility.  Yet people screw up this very simple game in very simple ways.  So here are seven ground rules, not only for legitimizing gameplay but also as general elements of strategy.

1.      Pick people all participants know personally, whenever possible—For maximum fun, pick people you know.  Why?  Because it’s more fun, duh.  The point is, if you give me Katy Perry/Megan Fox/Angelina Jolie, who the hell honestly cares what I pick?  They’re all generally considered hot but I don’t know any of them personally—I have no good reason to suspect any would be good as a wife or murder victim.  And, say, I fuck Perry/marry Jolie/kill Fox—what are you going to do about it?  Obviously you can’t tell a person the results if they’re in the trio supplied (I won’t even qualify that with a rule it’s so obvious) but under what circumstances could I feel sincere shame in picking any of the three for any of the three options?  It’s just not fun.

2.      Avoid actual significant others—I don’t say this because it’s inappropriate, I say this because you know EXACTLY which way the person is going.  The actual significant other will be married 98% of the time, fucked 2% of the time, and never killed.  Where’s the fun in that?  Hell, I’ve never played FMK with a married person, but I can’t imagine any circumstance under which the game works if the spouse is involved.  “Gee, you’d marry her?  Seems pretty far-fetched there.”

3.      IT’S A GAME—Often, a person who is present will be included in the trio.  If you’re included in the trio, please don’t concern yourself with how the other person picks.  So what if your friend decides they want to kill you?  They aren’t actually doing it.  Recreational purposes only.  However, this should be a fairly rare circumstance.  It actually leads into my fourth point.

4.      Don’t Neglect the Kill Option—It seems that most players basically go in order of F, then M, then K.  A person picks the hottest one, and then of the remaining two picks the most marriage-worthy, and then the other one is killed.  But why?  I’ll give you a situation once posed to me, names completely retracted in case somebody reading this knows all three of these people (which is highly unlikely because it implies anyone reads this blog): I was given Girl A, Girl B, and Girl C.  Girl C is the hottest of the group but also is by far the worst person.  Girl B is fairly attractive and a wonderful person.  Girl A is also fairly attractive and a mediocre person—not somebody I despise but not somebody I particularly like either.  Girl C, under conventional wisdom, gets fucked.  But why?  Can I really pass up the opportunity to kill this person?  The answer, of course, is no.  So I considered all options and went with killing Girl C, marrying Girl B, and fucking Girl A.

5.      Marriage Cannot Factor in Sex—This is an absolute must.  In fact, when considering the Marry option, basically treat it as “Be Besties With”.  Because that’s what this is.  I recognize that if you’re marrying a person in real life it means you’re probably going to be intimate with them more than the once that the F option gives in this game.  But for simplicity’s sake, we cannot have options overlapping here.  So assume a friendship.  Actually, better yet, assume a totally abstinent marriage.  Consider who you’d like as the parent of your child but assume that this child is adopted or from a previous relationship.  Regardless, just as you shouldn’t just choose the hottest person you can for a spouse, you shouldn’t just choose the hottest person for the marry option on here unless they’re also your best option for a life partner.

6.      Marriage CAN Factor in Things Other Than How You Get Along With A Person—Namely, money.  Money is hard to resist in this game—unless one of the other options is your actual significant other (which, as has been established, it shouldn’t be), how do you resist the billionaire option?  If you give me a trio in which it is two fairly attractive, fairly likable women and a billionaire CEO with whom I have no specific moral objection, I’m going with the CEO.  Shallow?  Yes.  But this is also hypothetical.  And also a blog post about strategy of playing Fuck Marry Kill—hopefully your expectations weren’t too high for the level of class that would be exuded here.

7.      There’s Factors for Fuck Besides Hotness!—Such as venereal diseases.  You gotta think things out here.  One thing which should not be a factor is legality.  Because nobody under the legal age should ever, under ANY circumstances, be used.  I shouldn’t have to tell you people that, though.

Ten Real Life Sports Stories Waiting for Film Adaptations

Let me start off by saying this: The two best based-on-a-true-story sports movies are Raging Bull and The Damned United.

In both cases, the film works more as Greek tragedy than heroic sports triumph.  Because frankly, the triumphant sports movie is pretty damn boring.  Take a look at Miracle--it's based on the greatest and most triumphant sports moment in American history, it is well written and well directed and well acted, and yet it doesn't really exceed the level of good.  It's far from great.  Raging Bull and Damned United are not Cinderella stories--both are essentially biopics about immeasurable talents whose fatal flaws (arguably, both insecurity) prevent them from immeasurable success.  

That's why with my ten sports movies waiting to happen, I try to avoid the cliche.  Contrary to what many a reader may believe, a movie about the 2011 Cardinals would almost certainly be terrible.  The film would have no drama; sure, the field drama was high, but that cannot come close to translating to as great of an extent in a work of fiction as it does in real life.  Frankly, the fact that it would make a true cornball movie does as much to reveal what a great real-life story it is as much as it shows how miserable of a film it would be.  With that said, here's ten movies just waiting to happen.

Joe DiMaggio's Life From His Marriage To Marilyn Monroe Until Her Death--Now let me be perfectly clear: There have been scores of mostly terrible Marilyn Monroe life adaptations.  But DiMaggio is always shown to just be along for the ride.  The truth of the matter is that Joe DiMaggio's brief, tumultuous marriage and its tragic aftermath actually make for a pretty damn intriguing love story.  Here, you have a shy celebrity marrying a living goddess--a fairly boring story in and of itself.  But you also have a man who, while a complete failure of a husband (becoming extremely jealous of the attention Marilyn received), was quite obviously tormented by guilt--as Marilyn went on the fast track of drug and alcohol abuse, the legendary athlete put his own ego aside to try to care for a woman he partially blamed for destroying.  This was a surly man who, when facing guilt, went as far as to plan the funeral for a woman who had left him eight years prior and who would frequent her grave, reflecting on his own mistakes.  It's arguably not even a sports movie as much as a personal drama, but as far as I'm concerned, it would be a tremendous crack into the notion of infallible sports superstardom.

Boston College's 1978-79 Point Shaving Scandal--Sadly, amazingly, this is often overlooked as an intriguing sports scandal.  Most amazing about its relative obscurity is that many of the characters in this hypothetical film are also characters in Goodfellas.  To some extent this story was done with the Black Sox biopic Eight Men Out, but there's extra levels of intrigue here.  First, point shaving is a more interesting animal than straight-up tanking--it requires a hell of a lot more nuance and planning if you think about it.  Second, it's a more justifiable offense--it wouldn't be hard to imagine Boston College basketball players being able to concede that at least they aren't trying to lose.  Not only do you get the intrigue of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta in Goodfellas) strong-arming a bunch of amateurs while Jimmy Burke (Robert DeNiro in Goodfellas) runs the operation, you even get to re-open debates about amateurism and pay-for-play.

The Fall of Donnie Moore--Perhaps no point is more important in most good sports movies than the simple rule that sports aren't THAT important.  Donnie Moore didn't understand this.  It's one thing for your sports career to unravel due to allowing a big home run in a big game--it's an entirely different animal for your entire life to unravel.  The average jackass booing from the bleachers doesn't think it can affect a player's psyche--Donnie Moore was booed nearly every time he pitched for the two seasons after he deprived the California Angels of a chance at their first World Series appearance ever.  It's a game for boys played by men who often have the fragile psyches of boys--Donnie Moore is the most extreme example in baseball history of a man who could not realize it's just a game.

The Rise of Alan Kulwicki--That many people do not know who Alan Kulwicki is remains a shame.  But the uber-maverick NASCAR owner/driver re-defined American motorsports.  At a time of southern Scots-Irish good ol boys dominating the Winston Cup, Kulwicki was a college-educated Wisconsin-born Catholic who outsmarted his way to the top.  Much as Moneyball is the story of brains over brawn, Kulwicki's life story is that of a man who played by his own rules, owning his own team and doing the unthinkable--winning the Winston Cup.  Kulwicki's life unfortunately ended in tragedy the year after his Cup triumph, in which NASCAR had to endure the unbelievable burden of losing two of its three top drivers within the span of a few months due to two unrelated aviation accidents, but the story of Alan Kulwicki, who died at the age of thirty-eight, ought to be viewed as nothing less than a triumph of perseverance.

The Times of John Daly--To some extent, Happy Gilmore took care of this story.  But it borders on impossible to find an athlete who more obviously exemplifies raw talent and unfulfilled promise than John Daly.  Just as the aforementioned Kulwicki was a rare intellectual in a sport where many superstars never even finished high school, Daly is basically the living embodiment of Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack: He doesn't look like a pro golfer, but he sure as hell played like one.  He is an alcoholic, womanizing, rambling gambling man--but he's also charismatic, likable, and a hell of a talent.  There's really no narrative, no happy nor blatantly miserable endings here--it's just the story of a man who, even throughout the heyday of Tiger Woods, was the most interesting man in golf.

Christy Martin--Christy Martin is probably the least known subject of one of my suggestions.  And while women's boxing having a Best Picture winner may suggest that it has more than been covered, Christy Martin's story has too many angles to pass up.  First, it's a story of modern marketing--Martin was a semi-closeted lesbian who was encouraged to be portrayed as a rare feminine force in women's boxing, something which she was not bothered by doing in and of itself, until it got to a point where she was making homophobic remarks about opponents.  Second, it's a (I'll admit, somewhat cliche) story of a naive young woman staying by her man, even when all logic says she needs to run, and fast.  Third, it's the story of triumph (she made a strong attempt at a boxing comeback at an advanced age and after coming back from a near-fatal stabbing) falling just short on the playing surface (she lost in a heartbreaking, questionable TKO) but finding redemption in her life (personal happiness with a new love).  Oscar, please.

Danny Almonte--What does it say about a society where a story like Danny Almonte's can happen?  You know how The Ringer seemed like an implausible movie because, come on, who the hell would rig the Special Olympics?  Well, who the hell would rig the Little League World Series?  You can't blame the kid--Danny Almonte, who was playing in the 12-and-under LLWS at the age of 14, couldn't speak English and was completely naive to what was going on.  When Almonte was alleged to be twelve, he was the toast of the universe--Derek Jeter was raving about him and he was the biggest story on SportsCenter on a nightly basis during a MLB season in which Barry Bonds hit seventy-three home runs.  When he was revealed to be just two years older--keep in mind that Almonte cannot reasonably be blamed for ANY of this--he was no longer touted as the future of baseball pitching.  He became a punchline.  He was older than we thought but he was still just fourteen.  Much like Jake LaMotta in Raging Bull, he was reduced to sideshow.  Because a bunch of jerkass adults made him so.

Josh Hamilton--Josh Hamilton has always been a man who came just a little bit short.  He was hailed as the next Griffey coming out of high school but didn't seem immediately to have the talent.  When he started to piece things together, he found drugs.  When he got over the drugs, he relapsed.  When he got clean, he became a triumphant star.  When he mentally put himself back into a sense of true security, he had to deal with the impossible tragedy of the Shannon Stone incident.  When he avenged that and injuries to hit a home run that should have capped off his perseverance and a World Series win which could cap an improbable life comeback, his team fell short.  And he relapsed again.  There's three types of movies this could become--a saccharine story about how wonderful Josh Hamilton is, a dark tale of a spoiled athlete who didn't realize how lucky he had it, and the story of a complex character who has never put it all together but who still soldiers on.  The former two would make for terrible movies--the latter one could work.

Armando Galarraga/Jim Joyce--The two already wrote a book together so maybe the story has been properly told, but it would be nearly impossible to tell future generations just how big of a story the near-perfect game was for, well, a few days.  But that's the kind of slice-of-life movie this story could become.  It's a hell of a task to make a movie in which the two protagonists should essentially be enemies, neither of whom is honestly all that interesting of a character, and the antagonist is the viewer.  But this story sums up the nihilism of sports media.  These are two good guys who absolutely handled things the right way--Galarraga noted (correctly) that Jim Joyce's bad call didn't truly affect anything but a meaningless record, and Joyce noted (correctly) that he made a mistake, something that's rare among MLB umpires.  It doesn't matter, though, for the masses that these two men moved on so quickly and made amends so vociferously--it matters that fans who had never heard of Armando Galarraga before that night felt cheated.  It's that sort of identity crisis that fans have with sports which make the movie worth making.

Kevin Hart, the Cal "Recruit"--This story got decent attention when it came out, then (perhaps rightly) disappeared, but it still fascinates me.  A mediocre football talent fixed his own National Signing Day ceremony, committing to play for a California football program which had not recruited him.  It seems like a joke, and it is, but it's a truly sad one.  What possesses a kid to feel he needs to call such attention for himself?  Severe ego issues, absolutely, but also a society which values this sort of thing.  Hell, the fact that anyone could think this guy should have a movie about him says a lot about the environment which created the story.  Kevin Hart is interesting because, while a vast majority of us can recognize that what he did was wrong and unethical, it's also hard on some level to blame him.  Warhol's claim of fifteen minutes of fame does not yet apply to everyone--it applies, however, to those who grab it by the horns.  Kevin Hart did this.

I'm curious about suggestions anyone else has.  Please leave them in the comments and/or tell me about how these ideas suck.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Wedding Reception Music

As much attention as is given to weddings, most people (and by people, I probably mean men) can agree that the more vital, differentiated part of the wedding process is the wedding reception.  I’ve been to weddings ranging from devoutly religious to ardently secular to full-blown military galas, and with a few small little exceptions, they’re all pretty much the same thing.  There are, however, substantive differences between a good and a bad wedding reception.

While I’ve been to several weddings, I have been to MANY more wedding receptions.  A year plus of working at a banquet hall in high school does that sort of thing.  And most of the things are fairly beyond the control of whomever is organizing the reception—the décor of the reception hall, the quality of the food served, et al can only be controlled as far as making choices of where to go.  You make a choice, you reserve a location, and then you hope for the best of luck.  But with the quality of songs played, it is more in the control of the customer.  Every DJ I’ve ever met, and I’ve likely met more than you, would rather get a ton of requests of songs they don’t even particularly like rather than playing a bunch of obscure songs that won’t make people happy.

Now, not every wedding party is the same.  Some weddings come from very traditional families and they’d rather have a jazz trio play Glenn Miller style tunes than danceable songs.  But for a majority, and this has applied across the board, dance music is the way to make people excited.  It presents the bride and groom a wondrous opportunity to see their family and friends act like complete buffoons.  But the joy really depends on what songs are being played.  Some songs are exceedingly conducive to bringing down the house—some aren’t.  As an expert in the field, I have decided to analyze forty-two (given the title of this, I need not explain why I decided on forty-two) popular reception songs and the pros and cons associated with them.

Party Rock Anthem—LMFAO: On the plus side, it’s a really popular song that’s catchier and has the kind of fun, mindless vibe that one would aspire to hear under the circumstances.  However, as a dance song, it’s kind of questionable.  Not a bad choice for young people but it’s kind of hard to imagine grandma hitting the dance floor and shuffling.

I Gotta Feeling—Black Eyed Peas: Lyrically, it’s obviously kind of what you’re going for.  It’s happy and optimistic.  The part where you yell “Mazel tov”, for the record, is prohibited as Jewish weddings because, just, on principle.  The biggest con is that musically, it’s kind of a depressing song.  Not that it’s a bad song (even though it absolutely is)—just that the song is really only useful for middle aged women to work out to.  Granted that’s kind of what a wedding reception generally is, but still, I wouldn’t advise it.

Don’t Stop Believin—Journey: I maintain that people who claim to like Journey are just trolling me.  Like, I’ll get worn down and be like “Okay!  Okay!  Wheel in the Sky is a good song!” and then everyone I know will humiliate me by admitting that they knew all along that Journey blows and that they wanted to get me to subscribe to their group think.  The sole reason this works from a wedding perspective is as a sing-along, in which case there are much more danceable (not to mention good) songs to which everyone knows all the lyrics.

You Shook Me All Night Long—AC/DC: This one is a necessary staple of the American wedding reception.  It’s semi-dirty, but not the total filth-fest of Pour Some Sugar On Me.  It’s a song that every teenager in America knows, yet it’s also 32 years old and thus if you’re under sixty, you are well aware of this song.  There’s no real “dance” to it, but it gets people to the floor.  The one con is that people often looked bewildered and confused when the guitar solo hits—but anyone who doesn’t respond by doing an Angus Young-style duck walk is out of their mind anyway.

Just Dance—Lady Gaga: Lady Gaga is one of those artists where I “kind of” get it.  I’ve never voluntarily listened to a Gaga song, but people like her music and dancing to it.  It’s pop fluff but it’s a wedding—are you supposed to play Velvet Underground or something?  While your ability to get people over the age of 30 to dance (unless they’re trying to just look cool for the young’ns), it’s a worthy addition to the playlist.

Livin On a Prayer—Bon Jovi: Basically, this song is the same as Don’t Stop Believin.  It’s a slightly better song with slightly worse singability.  I’d still pass.

Sweet Caroline—Neil Diamond: Is this a good song?  It really depends who you ask.  I’d say no.  Is it a danceable song?  No.  These first two criteria probably imply this is an absolute no, but it depends to an extent on who the clientele are.  The ONLY reason that this is an acceptable wedding song, unless the bride is named Caroline, is the chorus.  “Sweet Caroline…BUM BUM BUM,” the drunken crowd may yell.  This song’s viability as a wedding song is entirely contingent upon the openness of the bar/the rowdiness of the patrons.

Cupid Shuffle—Cupid: Is this a GOOD song?  Not especially.  It is, however, one of the easiest dance songs in the history of the universe.  It’s up there with Electric Slide though it’s a better song.  It belongs on a reception playlist.

Pour Some Sugar On Me—Def Leppard: Aforementioned as a nice, dumb 80s rock song along the lines of AC/DC, this song is equally a wedding staple.  It’s a worse song and although it gets played a lot, it doesn’t especially bring people to the floor.  Some people, in fact, get really annoyed by it.  I’m not too fond of this one for weddings, personally.

Love Shack—B52s: Quite simply, this is one of the most fun songs in history.  People gravitate towards the dance floor and belt songs out.  I don’t care if all the dancing is awkward, generic whitepeople meddling—it’s a top wedding song for sure.

Cha Cha Slide—DJ Casper: To me, you only need one group dance song per reception.  If you have to choose between this or Cupid Shuffle, I’d opt Cupid Shuffle.  Cha Cha Slide jumped the shark when Busch Stadium would play the “Everybody clap your hands” part before every tense moment of the World Series, anyway.

Dancing Queen—ABBA: Though ostensibly a dance song, this song never really is all that efficient in getting people to dance.  It doesn’t especially have rhythm—it’s just another example of standard pop fare that the band became known for.

Hey Ya—Outkast: Quite simply, this is a really, really depressing song.  Have you ever bothered to listen to the lyrics?  It’s not a love song.  With that said, because the “Shake it like a Polaroid picture” bit makes people move awkwardly, it sort of works.  Sort of.

Yeah—Usher: Its stock as a reception song has declined in the years since I stopped working receptions, but it remains a modern staple.  And while people over a certain age can’t really sing the full complement of lyrics efficiently, they can at least sing the title.  And that’s a plus.

Brown Eyed Girl—Van Morrison: People like this song plenty (though I can’t say I get it), but its dance potential is mediocre.  To me, if you’re going to opt for a Van Morrison song, you should go Moondance.  It’s a better, jazzier song that at works as a slow dance.

We Are Family—Sister Sledge: On the plus side, this is a song everybody knows.  It also tends to do well at getting people to come out and kind of dance.  However, it’s also a gigantic cliché.  It’s not the most original choice but I guess it kind of works.

Baby Got Back—Sir Mix a Lot: If you’re 40 or younger, you probably know pretty close to every word of this song.  If you don’t know the song, it would probably just kind of confuse the hell out of you, but you’re probably pretty confused by this point anyway.  It’s a great song if you wouldn’t be embarrassed for your grandmother to hear this song.

Single Ladies—Beyonce: Regrettably, this song completely blows.  It’s an unfortunate fact which goes underreported, that Beyonce is not good and that her music is generic pop-R&B crap.  But its video basically forever cemented that the song has a dance that everybody knows.  It’s also a day entirely about, well, putting a ring on it.  So unless you just absolutely loathe this song, it’s a go.

Friends in Low Places—Garth Brooks: This song really depends on who is getting married.  If this marriage is 1. Between cousins; 2. In a state which banned slavery in the 20^th century; or 3. Involving a man with a mustache; then play it.  If not, it’s probably going to annoy the hell out of enough people that it’s not going to do too much for you.

Shout—The Isley Brothers: Everybody, regardless of age, dances to this song.  It’s really easy and even if you somehow didn’t know how to dance to it, it would take you a verse and a chorus and you’d know for life.  An absolute must.

Old Time Rock and Roll—Bob Seger: My animosity towards Bob Seger has been well documented, but to me, this is a low point of Bob Seger’s sellout phase.  This song is played at so many weddings that nobody will really question you if you do.  But why bother?

Tik Tok—Kesha: As with many, the appeal of this song depends on the clientele you’re hoping to cater to.  This one may have the youngest target audience ever—25 or younger, perhaps.  The thing is, younger people will be more receptive to dancing to old songs than vice versa, so this may be worth leaving at the cutting floor.

Celebration—Kool and the Gang: Am I the only person who get bummed out by this song?  This song has never made me want to celebrate.  And in spite of its era and what you might assume, it doesn’t especially work as a dance song.  I’d pass.  I may be alone.

Brick House—Commodores: This, along with Play That Funky Music, is the gold standard of pseudo-funk that people really tend to love in wedding receptions.  People will dance and people will be merry.  You really can’t ask anything more than this.

Let’s Get It Started—Black Eyed Peas: Unlike the horrible I Gotta Feeling, this one gets people moving.  It’s really more of a jump up and down kind of moving, but that’s something.  It’s motion.

Forget You—Cee Lo: Fuck censorship.  I don’t fucking give a shit if the fucking corporate assholes who made Cee Lo record this piece of shit re-record thought they knew what they were fucking doing.  Either you play the uncensored version and offend grandma or you play censored and sell your soul.

YMCA—Village People: Dance people know, check.  Catchy song, check.  I mean, duh.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy—Big and Rich: Yes, it’s a redneck song, but this one amuses me and seems to amuse many other people of questionable literacy.  The song makes people sway to some such degree, and drunk women seem to enjoy yelling the song’s title.  Which is fun.

Come On Eileen—Dexys Midnight Runners: Girl name songs are always a tenuous area.  I mean, what if the guy dated a girl named Eileen?  But if not, one thing I like about this song as a reception song is that, for a semi-danceable song, it’s different.  It’s folky and not funky.  Diversity is good here.

Stayin Alive—Bee Gees: Few songs are more synonymous with dancing.  Since nobody listens to the lyrics of this pretty goddamned depressing song (off the soundtrack of a secretly depressing movie), it’s gold.

Cotton Eye Joe—Rednex: Admittedly, I don’t get it.  But in terms of songs that get masses and masses of people to dance around like imbeciles, this song is the gold standard.  Receptions are all about getting people to act en masse.  This song is a fantastic way.

Jump Around—House Of Pain: This may be the easiest dancing song ever.  You literally just jump a lot.  It’s not tricky.  Once people have had a few too many, you need the most basic possible dance maneuvers.  This is the song for that.

Bust a Move—Young MC: There are few things that white people like to do more than feel like they’re cool by singing black songs.  I can’t say with a straight face I’ve ever seen this danced well.  But danced?  Oh my yes.

Electric Slide—Marcia Griffiths: We’ve had enough slides.  Uncle!

Hot in Herre—Nelly: This song ONLY works in St. Louis, because only in St. Louis will old people embrace this song.  It sort of depends on the religiousness of your party but this is a good one to get people riled up.

Evacuate the Dance Floor—Cascada: White people LOVE this shit, man.  It’s the kind of song that people bump and grind to ironically.  As in you can do it with relatives nearby and it’s not really that weird.

Macarena—Los Del Rio: It’s easy if you’re, like, slightly younger than I am to remember this, but this may have been the single biggest song of my lifetime.  Like, this shit was EVERYWHERE.  And it was such a simply dance that everyone remembers it.  Stupid?  Yes.  But memorable.

White Wedding—Billy Idol: Okay, it’s not a dance song.  And it’s not exactly a glowing standpoint towards weddings.  No.  Never.  Under no circumstances is this a good idea.

Get Low—Lil Jon: It really does depend on the liberalism of your relatives.  Would I feel comfortable yelling “From the window, to the walls, to the sweat running down my balls” around my family?  Um, kind of.  Not uncomfortable.  But some people wouldn’t feel so assured there.  Approach this song with caution, but for some people, it really excites them.

Mony Mony—Billy Idol: THIS is a preferred Billy Idol song.  It’s sort of a dance song and it allows drunken morons to yell the made up lyrics during it.

It’s Tricky—Run DMC: This has been dangerously underutilized at wedding receptions.  Not never used, but not used enough.  It’s one of those rockish old school rap songs that people love to sing along to.  And you can swing about a little bit.  Thumbs up.

Paper Planes—MIA: This song only has one reason to ever be played: So jagoffs like myself can mock shooting guns in the air during the chorus.  This is a warning to the world.  People like me will do this stupid move.  You must brace for that sort of thing.

The Best Fans in Baseball*

On Friday night, Johan Santana pitched the first no-hitter in the long history of the New York Mets.  In the top of the sixth inning, Cardinals outfielder and former Met Carlos Beltran drove a ball along the left field line which was called a foul ball.  It appeared to be a fair ball, which would have meant that Santana would not have thrown a no-hitter.

Was Carlos Beltran’s hit actually a fair ball?  Yes.  Should, in turn, Johan Santana have pitched a no-hitter?  No.  Hence, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ran the headline “No-Hitter*” on Saturday’s edition.  But the more important questions should be: Had Beltran’s hit been properly called fair, would the Cardinals have scored a run?  Maybe.  Would it have made the difference between the eventual 8-0 Cardinals loss and a potential win?  Absolutely not.  So why the bitterness?

It would require insane delusion to believe that this blown call (and, again, I’m not disputing that the call was incorrect) meant the Cardinals would have somehow been spurred on to victory.  I mean, they didn’t score any more runs, much less get another hit, and the offense didn’t put up any runs the next day either (Note: The June 3, 2012 game has yet to be played, and thus if the Cardinals get no-hit again tonight, this is why I haven’t made mention of it.  I mean, it seems plausible).  So what exactly is the problem?  This isn’t the Premier League—run differential or hit differential doesn’t matter in any substantive way.  Say the Cardinals score 3 runs (this is a gigantic stretch, but just to be generous) as a result of Beltran being ruled fair—this means they lost 8-3.  It’s still a loss, the Cardinals are still at risk of getting swept tonight, so who cares?

Is it really bitterness towards the Mets?  The Cardinals and Mets formerly had a bit of a divisional rivalry, but the last year in which the Cardinals and Mets finished 1-2 in the same division (in either order) was 1987. You really couldn’t have gotten too engulfed in the whole pondscum Mets antagonism unless you were at least 12 at the time.  Which means that today, you’re 37 years old.  A majority of the Cardinals fans I know are younger than this, yet there is still anger about the no-hitter being called.

The reason that Cardinals fans are so turned off isn’t substantial; it’s pride-based.  It’s the notion that getting no-hit isn’t supposed to happen to the Cardinals.  The notion that we’re better than this.  Truthfully, while a poor hitting team is obviously more likely to get no-hit than a good hitting team, it doesn’t inhibit a team long-term any more than a seven run output would have.  The 2003 Yankees were the victims of arguably the most embarrassing no-hitter of all-time, one in which six pitchers (including such luminaries as Pete Munro and Kirk Saarloos), yet this didn’t stop them from going to the World Series.  Under the assumption that being no-hit is pure luck, the odds that a no-hit team would go on to play in the World Series is one in fifteen.  The 2003 Yankees, the most recent team to be no-hit and eventually go on to a World Series appearance, is the 19^th most recent no-no.  So, whatever.

More important that the shame of being no-hit is what a no-hitter represents—general inferiority.  As much as people don’t want to admit it, St. Louis has an inferiority complex.  Now, don’t get me wrong—there are wonderful things about St. Louis.  But in terms of cultural or economical power, it can’t be compared to Chicago.  Hell, even though almost every other city in the country has a huge edge over Chicago when it comes to not being a crime-addled slum, St. Louis can’t even boast that.  Hence the Cardinals-Cubs rivalry.  Contrary to all logic, the dominant team’s fans seem to revile the inferior team more than the latter’s fans.  It’s because if you’re from the north side of Chicago, you’re from one of the most culturally dynamic epicenters of the world.  If you’re from Lakeview, your life is pretty stereotypically idyllic.  Even if you’re a hardcore Cubs fan, you don’t really NEED your team to do well.  You’ll move on.  Cardinals fans NEED the Cardinals to do well.  Luckily, they generally do.  If you’re reading this and aren’t from St. Louis, especially if you’re a Cardinals fan, you would be amazed the differences in downtown St. Louis between when there’s a game going on and when there isn’t.  Day and night in terms of cultural vibrancy.

St. Louis isn’t alone in this respect.  There’s a reason the best fans in football are Green Bay Packers fans.  Because, to a much greater extent than St. Louis, Green Bay ONLY has its successful sports team going for it.  In the NBA playoffs right now, Oklahoma City is having the sort of energy at its games than the Sacramento Kings had about a decade ago.  It’s a mid-sized town without much else to do getting excited.  The same thing happens in St. Louis.  St. Louis isn’t a major city.  It’s neither a minor city nor a small town nor completely irrelevant, but there are probably about 10-15 cities in the United States which could be considered “major.”  St. Louis isn’t one of them.

Cardinals fans shouldn’t be too upset about this.  At least our city’s one beacon is successful.  At least we aren’t Cleveland.  And even after being no-hit, the Cardinals are still a top-tier Major League Baseball franchise.  It’s fine.  Relax.  Congrats to Johan Santana on the no-hitter.  You’ve tied Bud Smith for career no-hitters.  May your legacy not be this one game—your two Cy Youngs should help.  For if the Mets or Cardinals go on to win the World Series this year, its respective fan bases will not and should not care whatsoever about one measly game in June.  Please, Cardinal nation—eschew the asterisk.  Please move on.