Because You Never Asked

 MUDVILLE REVISITED, PART I 

            (Author's Note: I put this baseball trilogy up as the 2003 season is about to begin. Although the sport itself is the basis of the subject matter, as always, it deals in more universal truths.)

The migratory bird writing these dubious philosophical patterings has, once again, returned to his native land. One of the major media stories greeting his return are the storm clouds looming ominously on the horizon of yet another work stoppage in Major League baseball. After a few weeks at home, I've been able to familiarize myself with the issues involved, the arguments of the protagonists, and the attitude of the substantial amount of the American public that might give a hoot for all this. Let's start with the latter.

            As my ideas with regard to this issue started to crystallize, the first thing that began to impress me was the attitude of the fans. This massive lump of Americana could be seen as one of the most representative cross sections of who and what the United States is. Take a look around any Major League ballpark on a warm Friday evening and you will see the face of this country. This is the socio-political "center", the norm, the average, the foundation of our society. These people work, raise families, vote, and root for the home team as they munch their burgers and fries. They are patriots. They believe in the American "way of life" and are deliriously proud to be one.

             These are the people who are so angered by this whole affair. More than angry, they are offended, as if these labor-management battles in their folkloric, lily pure, beloved national pastime are a direct insult to them. They feel disrespected, back slapped, put down and denigrated, as if the players and owners owe them something. The players are greedy. The owners are fat cats living behind the tinted windows of their limos and luxury boxes. Nobody cares for them. They are like jilted lovers who are finally trying to rid themselves emotionally of someone who betrayed them. Greed, selfishness . everywhere you look.

   They are right . but.

            EXCUSE ME!

            This is the United States of America. This is the country whose domination has led the world into the most savage Darwinian commercial combat the planet has ever known. In spite of America's much trumpeted religious freedom, there is only true devotion to one religion, a spiritual dedication to one God: Money. We bow down to It every day. We pray at Its altar with a religious fervor comparable to the Islamic terrorists. It rules omnipotently. It rules with an iron hand the most corrupt banana republic dictator could only dream of. There is no longer anything that is not for sale. There is virtually nothing that does not revolve around It. Everything has a price. It has become the almost exclusive motivational device dictating our behavior. Money equals happiness. This is who we are. This is what we stand for. It is perhaps the most crass cultural concept ever known to man. It is one integral, insincere hustle. Everyone has a bit of con man in them. Everyone is some part "shyster". Everyone is trying to get something from someone.

            I recently bumped into a boxing match on TV. One of the combatants had an advertisement tattooed on his broad back. Somebody had paid him for the use of his back. One watching the telecasts of this year's US Open tennis tournament eventually begins to realize, if you are paying attention (and almost no one is, being so deeply mired in their Nasdaq-CNN coma), that a particular camera angle has been bought by America On Line (AOL). Each time this camera is used, the announcer must drop whatever he is saying and inform the viewer that "this shot is provided by the America On Line Go-Cam." Undoubtedly, the maximum and minimum use of this angle is contractually spelled out and God forbid if the announcer forgets his AOL Go-Cam mantra. Stadiums don't have names anymore, they have sponsors. Ditto for Bowl games, golf tournaments, and athletic competitions of all kinds. Welcome to the "Bush Whacker-Weed Eater-Frito-Dorito Suicide X Games". Everything answers to the Deity Money; nothing is free from Its dominion. It has infiltrated every pore and wrinkle of our existence. Even sickness is a business gambit in the good old U.S. of A. I can foresee a time where each day of the calendar year can be sponsored by some commercial endeavor. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, today is February 3^rd and it is brought to you by Daimler-Chrysler". Perhaps some dates could be sold for more than others: The "Exxon 4^th of July", or "Microsoft's September 11^th". Everything is for sale. "Tiger Woods' last bowel movement was brought to you by Charmin' , the ooohh sooo soft one". Only a society where Money is God could produce such festering malignancies as "The Anna Nicole Show", "The Man Show", "Howard Stern", "Jerry Springer", on and on. The "money society" doesn't try to educate its people; it tries to idiotize them.

            So why is everyone so angry at Major League baseball? This is who we are. This is what moves us. This is where our ambition is directed. The players and owners are squabbling big time over money. If you are a proud American you should be applauding all this, you should be waving the flag, shooting off firecrackers. Nothing more represents America than the fight for professional baseball's juicy, ten figure pie. The looming baseball strike is not an aberration; it is a perfect example of American "values".

            If you are still offended by the business strife in Major League baseball, I suggest your wrath is much too narrowly directed. The baseball business is just one drop in a rainstorm of commercial obesity and indigestion. It's not baseball you are fed up with; it's the whole socio economic landscape you've become so comfortable with.

Baseball, with its perpetual financial bickering, is, more than ever, the quintessence of our "national pastime". 

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Email: JerryG@postcman.info