Thursday, June 07, 2007

On Sheff, Aubie, Mikey and Fred

I've been a delinquent blogger lately because of a herculean spring cleaning effort at home. While the basement definitely looks better, I've let the cobwebs, dust and boxes accumulate on this here blog for far too long.
With that, let's grab a broom and sweep up some blogworthy talking points:

And the Al Campanis Racial Insensitivity Award goes to ...

First and foremost, let's get this out of the way: Gary Sheffield couldn't have done a better job exposing himself as an idiot this week if he'd put on a dance cap and floppy clown shoes and danced the Macarena in the dugout.
GQ gave Sheffield a forum to discuss the decline of African-American players in Major League Baseball. But instead of receiving real insight into why blacks comprise just 8 percent of MLB rosters, the magazine received this tripe:
‘‘I called it years ago,’’ Sheffield said. ‘‘What I called is that you’re going to see more black faces, and there ain’t no English going to be coming out. [It’s about] being able to tell [Latin players] what to do — being able to control them.
‘‘Where I’m from, you can’t control us. You might get a guy to do it for a while because he wants to benefit, but in the end he’s going to go back being who he is. And that’s a person that you’re going to talk to with respect, you’re going to talk to like a man. These are the things my race demands. So, if you’re equally good as this Latin player, guess who’s going to get sent home? I know a lot of players that are home now can outplay a lot of these guys.’’
Sheffield picked the wrong targets here. There are more Latin players now because baseball has exploded in popularity in the Carribean and Central America. Soccer is the only other sport of prominence, but baseball represents the most immediate and significant payday for them.
Now go to an urban recreation center in America and tell me what game you see the children (white and black) playing. They'll be in the gym shooting 3-pointers and slashing to the hoop. There's no activity on the sandlot.
Sheffield's claim that Latin players wield no power is ludicrous.
Atlanta would probably like to trade slumping center fielder Andruw Jones right now, but he can veto any deal he doesn't like. That means he'll be a Brave for the rest of the season.
Apparently Sheffield has failed to notice that Albert Pujols, Manny Ramirez, Pudge Rodriguez, Pedro Martinez, Carl Pavano, etc., aren't exactly working for minimum wage.

They did a LOT of extra credit ...

The eligibility of two Auburn football recruits could be in jeopardy due to questionable high school transcripts.
According to the Mobile Press-Register, B.C. Rain’s Ryan Williams had 10 grades changed and Williamson’s Nick Fairley received seven favorable grade changes without the knowledge of his teachers.
Rumor has it that they were both planning to major in sociology.

Hair of the dog

The Atlanta-Journal Constitution's Web site shows a before and after photo comparison of Falcons quarterback Michael Vick, who traded in his braids for a short haircut.
Vick once stated that he wouldn't cut his braids until he led the Falcons to the Super Bowl, but he was wise to get clipped.
Given the franchise's outlook at this point, Vick would have been able to uses his locks as jumpropes if he heeded his original promise.

Scrapple gift baskets for everyone ...

You probably saw the front page newspaper photos of the 1,000-plus-pound pig that an 11-year-old boy in Alabama recently killed.
The initial story made it sound as if the kid fended off a snarling predator who would have surely eaten him like an hors d'oveure if he hadn't shot at him something like 38 times with his pistol and chased him for three hours through the wilderness.
Come to find out the 9-foot long pig wasn't some sort of wild beast. The Anniston Star tracked down Alabama resident Phil Blissitt, who bought the animal when it was a few weeks old as a gift for his wife.
They nurtured it and treated it as a family pet before selling it to Lost Creek Plantation.
They fed it sweet potato pies and called it Fred.
Congratulations, kid, you killed Fred.