Despite all the ongoing steroid talk, which I think we’re all extremely tired of, I still like baseball. No, I don’t pay attention to it all that much (it’s May), but I do find something inherently relaxing and enjoyable about catching the occasional inning. Additionally, Baseball Tonight is one of ESPN’s best shows (far better than SportsCenter) because it is highlights first, analysis second, talking heads third. Like all good things, however, baseball needs tweaking. Putting aside the steroid issue for now, there are several small changes Major League Baseball (MLB) can make to improve the game.

1. Have seven-game series throughout the playoffs. Baseball is the only major sport with playoff series that has a five-game first round. If one looks at ratios of games played in the regular season to playoff games in round one of the playoffs in various sports, the problem is obvious: NBA 82:7; NHL 82:7; MLB 162:5!* How does that make sense? Basically, what MLB is telling teams is, “It doesn’t matter how well you play for six or seven months—lose three of five and you’re done!” Absurd. The first round of the MLB playoffs needs to be seven games. I suppose I’d be willing to put up with a five-game first round, however, if the MLB would…

2. Add more wild card spots. Right now, there are 30 teams in Major League Baseball and eight playoff spots (six for division winners and two wild cards). Again, comparison is illuminating. In the NBA, there are 30 teams, and 16 make the playoffs each year; the NHL is the same way. That means in both of these leagues more than half of the teams make the playoffs every year, which unceasingly puts mediocre teams in the playoffs. The NFL has a better approach. In professional (American) football, there are 32 teams, 12 of whom make the playoffs every year. This system is ideal: there are many teams that make the post season, so interest is widespread; however, most teams do not make the playoffs, so gaining entrance to the post season has the appropriate level of difficulty.

Baseball should adopt the NFL’s playoff structure. Let there be the usual three playoff spots awarded the division winners in each league, and add two wild card slots to bring the total up to six playoff teams in each league (12 total). In this system, the top two teams with the best records would have a first round bye, and the bottom four would play a five-game first round. The first round byes reward the teams who have spent the past SIX MONTHS winning, while the wild card teams still have a good shot to knock them out. This system would also permit four more cities to have playoff teams each year; more teams in more places means more widespread interest. Everybody gets more money (tickets, TV rights, vendors, etc.), and fans have a better shot to see their team play in October.

3. Institute a salary cap. I remember the salary cap being discussed at length during the strike that devastated baseball in the 1990s. At the time I was opposed to the cap in the name of capitalism—let the market decide what the players are worth. I’ve come 180 degrees since then, though, because I’m tired of seeing the same teams in the playoffs every year. In March everyone knows that the big market teams (Red Sawx, Yankees, Cubs, Mets, et al.) have the best chance of making the playoffs because they can pay more for the same talent. Good players want more money, which is natural, so they go where they can get it. This leaves teams like the Royals, Reds, Rangers, and Orioles with slim chance of making the playoffs for years consecutively, and revenue goes down in those places because people pay to see their team win. It’s a downward spiral.

The salary cap equals everything out. The Yankees have the same amount of money to spend as the Mariners. The Cubs have a payroll equal to the Pirates. Talented players are more likely to stay in the city where they become stars because their teams can now afford them. Being a Cubs fan, I realize this might hurt my boys, but I think it’s worth it in the name of parity. I do not think the MLB will institute a salary cap any time soon due to the heinous, bloated Player’s Union. The owners are not any better, of course.

4. Move an NL Central team to the AL West. If none of the above ideas get implemented, I hope this one will because the problem is so egregious and idiotic. Right now, the National League Central Division has six teams in it—one more than most other divisions and two more than the American League West, which has only four teams! This makes the AL West the easiest division to win, and the NL Central the most difficult due to number of competitors in each division. I’ve never understood this move. We all know that the organization of league divisions is arbitrary in every sport, and it is often puzzling geographically. But other sports have at least made an effort to keep the number of teams in each division equal. Why do we punish the Astros, Brewers, Cardinals, Cubs, Pirates, and Reds and reward the Angels, Atheletics, Mariners, and Rangers? It makes no sense. MLB should assign an NL team to the AL West to even things out. If they want to keep things simple, they could reassign an NL Central team (I think moving the Astros makes the most sense in that scenario), or pick an NL team from another division and move a Central team to that division.

I sincerely doubt that Major League Baseball will adopt any of the above measures, and if they do not it will be to the detriment of the league. Baseball is always reluctant to change things, which can be a virtue at times. However, given the decline of its popularity and the never-ending steroid scandals, I think MLB would be wise to change things a little.

*The NFL is left out of this comparision because the violent nature of the sport permits only one-game playoff rounds.

[We now go live to Charybdis' post season press conference where Coach Nathan is just taking the podium...]

Coach Nathan: “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Before we begin the question and answer session of this press conference, I would like to make a statement about the season. It was a rough year for the Charybdis, but it was not without highlights. We knocked off my brother’s team, Killer Death Squad, early in the season. Oh, and we won two games in a row, beating a couple of quality opponents. Of course, going 4-10 for the second straight year is unacceptable. We also struggled mightily with our personnel. We couldn’t secure a quality quarterback at any point this season, and some of our guys underperformed. We have big plans for next year to ensure we have a better season, and if those don’t pan out we’ll blame President-elect Obama. I guess that’s all. Questions?”

[Shouts of "Coach! Coach! Over here"]

N: “You, sir.”

“Coach, Willy Ponyboy, Denver Post. You went 4-10 for the second consecutive year–”

N: “I just said that!”

WP: “Right. In the Denver area, we have high expectations for our football teams. How could you bring such shame upon us?”

N: “It was pretty easy. Basically, we have a bunch of crappy players who don’t perform well. Initially, I tried to get better players, but when that didn’t work I gave up on the season. Next question. You there.”

“Coach, Windy Coldweather, Star Tribune. Could you elaborate on your quarterback situation a bit more because you never had anyone close to decent at that position. That hurt you a lot in comparison with the rest of the league. I mean it was pathetic!”

N: “You suck, Windy, but you’re right. We struggled mightily with our guys who play under center. We drafted Derek Anderson, for Pete’s sake! After a few losses, we picked up Jason Campbell and Chad Pennington and have been platooning those two do-nothings for the bulk of the year. When you get excited for a fifteen-point performance from your QB, I mean, that’s just sad.”

SC: “One more follow-up question–”

N: “No, I don’t like you. Someone else.”

“Coach, this is Shelly Beach, Miami Herald. You’ve come under fire for your decision to use a collective noun as your team’s nickname, a phenomenon you’re on the record as opposing. Could you explain your rationale?”

N: “I’m glad you asked that question. I do, indeed, oppose the collective noun team name nuisance. ‘The Heat wins?!’ How stupid does that sound? But we decided to go with the Charybdis as our moniker because we like the allusion to Greek mythology. To be clear, you all should keep the verb in the plural, i.e. ‘The Charybdis lose again,’ NOT ‘The Charbydis loses again.’”

SB: “Have you noticed the ironic parallel between your team’s nickname and the downward spiral your team experienced this year?”

N: “Yes, darn you. We were supposed to bring down our opponents, not ourselves. (sigh) Next question.”

“Coach, this is Bob Cooltown, Cedar Rapids Gazette. Your organization has gone 8-20 these last two seasons–”

N: “Argh! Stop bringing that up!”

BC: “Sorry. Anyway, two seasons ago you were 12-2 as the Front Rangers and lost the Super Bowl to your arch-rival brother. Last year your team was so bad you changed your team name to the ‘Doormat’ midway through the season. Ever thought about going back to the Front Rangers team name and handsome color scheme?”

N: “Y’know, Bob, I think you might be onto something there. We’ll see. If I can’t think of an even cooler name, you’ll all be reporting on the Front Rangers again come next August.”

“Coach, this is Phil Eastcoastbias from the New York Times. Do you struggle with your day-to-day existence because you live nowhere close to New York? I just don’t see how you flyover country hicks have the motivation to get up in the morning.”

N: “That’s it. This east coast hubris as gone unchecked too long! No more questions until all reporters from the Atlantic Seaboard are removed from the room!” [scraping of chairs and angry grumbling ensue as the east coast reporters file out] “Get out of here, you jerks. Okay, let’s move on.”

“Cliff Climber, Rocky Mountain News. Would you like to blame anyone or anything else for your poor season?”

N: “Finally, a good question. Yes, I would. First, I’d like to blame Smash Mouth Football Commissioner Nate who won’t reinstate the manual draft. I’ve had only one good season, and that was when I hand-picked my players. Second, I have to blame my players for underperforming, especially Jospeh Addai. Also, our team played the whole year with the sun in our eyes and terrible refereeing. Finally–and I’m not suggesting anything, mind you–I think all the teams we lost to are secretly videotaping our play-calling, and I’ve heard that my brother’s Killer Death Sqaud is taking steroids eight times per day. Not that I’m saying they are, but have you seen pictures from their rookie years? Something’s not right. I have time for one last question; I have to move the laundry. You there.”

“Thanks, Coach. Ernest Praise from the Greater Denver Area Metro Star Post Dispatch Daily Times News Tribune Gazette Journal. I think you’re still a great guy despite the last two years, and your thesis is the best piece of writing I’ve read.”

N: “Thank you. Really, that’s too much.”

EP: “No, I’m serious! Anyway, what do you think your chances are in the consolation bracket of the post season, and do you have plans for next year?”

N: “Our chances of winning are somewhere between ’slim’ and ‘I don’t care anymore.’ As for next year’s plans, I have only one word for you: ‘DOMINATION’! Thanks very much. Good night.”

If anyone sees the Cubs, will you tell them that the playoffs started Wednesday, and they’re out?

Once again, the Chicago Cubs found a creative way to disappoint all of their fans, and this time it was a particularly horrid one. After looking dominant for most of this season and running away with their division, the Cubs couldn’t manage one win against the Dodgers. This is the second straight year that the Cubs have made an NL West club look like a baseball titan in the playoffs; Arizona swept them last year.

But this year was different, wasn’t it? This year we had a four-man rotation as good as anyone in the league. This year our lineup was stacked. This year we won the big games, including a four-game sweept of Milwaukee that secured the division title. The Cubs looked good. They looked strong. They looked like they were having fun. They could pitch, field, and hit. Many experts picked them to finally break this stupid 100-year (now longer) drought of no titles. Chicago secured home-field advantage throughout the NL playoffs, and they dominated at home. This year was different.

Then, game one started Wednesday night, and it all went to you-know-where. Ryan Dempster, who had an excellent season and pitched particularly well at Wrigley, looked awful. He had no control and gave up more walks in that game than in any other during the year. Spotted a two-run lead, he walked the bases loaded with two outs, had two strikes on frigging James Loney, and could not get the out. Grand slam.

Giving up the lead in the middle of the game really was not the problem; lots of teams do that and come back. The disaster was in the attitude of the team–and of the fans at Wrigley for that matter. By inning six of the first game of the series, everyone was thinking, “Not again. We can’t do this again!” At that point, the series was lost. You could see it in the players’ eyes. The other runs that night merely cemented the game: Dodgers, 7-2.

Game two was a new game, or at least it should have been. However, the Cubs were beaten before taking the field. I didn’t see this game, but it sounded like Zambrano pitched decently–he was an iffy choice for second starter. Each infielder had an error en route to a 10-3 drubbing. The fans booed their beloved team off the field. Why? Because each of them to-a-person was thinking, “Not again! How can this happen AGAIN?!”

Down 2-0 in the series, everyone sensed the Cubs were already done. The media acted as if they had been eliminated in Chicago, but there was at least one more game to play in Los Angeles. Maybe they could muster a win. Maybe the day off and getting away from the enormity of the expectations at Wrigley Field would work in their favor. So Rich Harden took the mound against Kuroda with one more shot for his team to be relevant in these playoffs. One more chance to stay alive–to look alive. Harden pitched a decent game. The Cubs’ batters, however, made Kuroda look like Cy Young. They couldn’t hit anything he threw. They left nine runners on base. Nine. 3-1 Dodgers, but the loss was clearly inevitable long before the last out was made.

I’ll give credit to the Dodgers. They sensed the Cubs were wavering, and they pounced. Their pitchers looked very good, and the line-up that seemed pretty weak to me (aside from Manny–he’s unbeliveable) killed Cubs pitching. The biggest difference, though, was in attitude. LA looked excited, ready, focused, and they had fun. They felt no pressure–only confidence.

Chicago, meanwhile, looked like frightened little-leaguers. They could not hit. At all. Normally when Soriano or Aramis Ramirez steps to the plate, I get a little excited, but I never felt excited when they batted because I knew they would not deliver. You could see it in their eyes and body language. Only Derek Lee showed up with a bat. The Cub batters were out before they came to the plate. They had beaten themselves mentally before a pitch was thrown. They had no confidence, no fire, no drive, no focus, no sense of purpose, and no joy throughout the series. They deserved to be swept. They sleepwalked through three games and now have winter to think about what happened.

As a life-long Cubs fan, this is the worst disappointment I’ve ever had with them, and there are plenty from which to choose. The worst part isn’t that they lost; good teams lose in the playoffs. It isn’t that they squandered home field. It isn’t that they seemed so ready to finally, finally win after so many years of futility. No, the worst part is that the Cubs did not even show up for this series. “Wake up! WAKE UP! You’re playing the friggin Dodgers! You can’t beat these guys! What are you doing?” It didn’t matter what I screamed at the TV. The Cubs lost the series when the pressure overcame them. They lost because they believed they would lose.

I wish I could say, “Screw ‘em” and not care anymore. I’m tired of rooting so hard for a team so unworthy of affection–so pathetically incapable of rewarding their loyal fanbase. Henceforth, how well the Cubs play 162 games cannot matter to me as it once did; the only important thing is the playoff spot. In self-defense, I must be a doubting Thomas. Not until I see a playoff victory and from a Cubs team that looks ready to win in the post-season will I believe in them. Who knows how long from today that day will be?

Baseball is over for me today. I sincerely wish I did not care so much; I wish this weren’t so infuriating every freaking year. Go home, Cubs. You were the worst team in the playoffs. Thanks for another bitter end.

I suppose everyone’s doing these recap/reminiscing posts, but I will too. I imagine a lot of the most memorable moments are things that many of us share, especially because NBC kept airing the same sports again and again. C’mon, NBC. How about some diversity here? Anyway, here are the things that will stay in my memory from the games of the 29th Olympiad. Most of the videos are found here, and they require you to install a little program called “Silverlight,” FYI.

1. Jason Lezak chasing down Alain Bernard in the men’s 4×100m swimming finals. Sure, Michael Phelps is rightly the headline of these games, winning eight gold medals in one Olympics. EIGHT! But if you haven’t seen the way Jason Lezak beats Bernard on the final split of the 4×100 relay to give Phelps his second gold medal, you won’t believe it. I still have no idea how he made up so much ground on the sassy Frenchman. This was easily one of if not the most exciting sporting even I’ve seen in years. Wow.

2. Nastia Liukin’s gold in all-around. Liukin overcame a talented field (including Johnson, her teammate) and a lot of shady judging to win the most coveted of gymnastics titles. Nobody was more elegant than Liukin throughout the entirety of the games.

3. Shawn Johnson winning gold on the balance beam. My girl from Iowa had three silver medals in her pocket and only one more shot to get a gold, and she made it count. Fantastic, clutch routine. Way to represent Iowa, Shawn. Might I add that she’s adorable?

4. The Opening Ceremony. Wow-oh-wow. They were simply spectacular start-to-finish. I don’t know how many times I gasped in awe. The coordination, engineering, talent, vision and creativity it took to invent this show much less pull it off is astounding. Bravo. I told you to watch it.

5. The Redeem Team delivers. I think we were all a little leery about believing in these guys, but they were excellent. The world has caught up to us a great deal in basketball, and the United States had to beat several talented squads to get this medal back. Kudos to you, gentlemen. I will add that it felt strange to root for Kobe Bryant.

6. Usain Bolt’s 100m dash. He crushed the best runners in the world and set a new world record by a significant margin despite slowing down and celebrating before crossing the finish line. Wha?! Sure, he was cocky, but that’s impressive.

7. The shady gymnastics judging. Yes, it’s a subjective sport and there will always be debate. Yes, I’m no gymnastics expert and can only rely on the announcers. However, the quantity of questionable judging in important situations was ridiculous and highly suspect. Several scores were higher for China and lower for the USA, despite the US girls having better routines. I don’t know if Liukin wins gold if the supervisory judge doesn’t walk down to the judges’ table and make sure they get it right. How did Sacramone lose bronze to a Chinese gymnast who FELL on her second vault–ON HER FACE?!? And the tie-breaker system has got to go. Let’s get that perfect 10 system back in place and revamp some rules by the time London rolls around.

8. Matt Mitcham’s final dive. All right, maybe I won’t remember this one, but it was incredible anyway. Mitcham of Australia was behind the Chinese diver by a significant margin as he walked to the platform, and it looks like the host nation will walk away from the games with a diving sweep—eight-for-eight. Instead, Mitcham nails an astounding dive, wins gold, and ruins the party at the Swimming Cube. Great moment.

All told, the Olympics was great stuff, especially the first week. Track and field has never been too exciting for me. I’m going to miss the games mostly because it means that once again there is a good chance that nothing is on television. For those seventeen days, I knew NBC had something watchable airing. Alas.

Aside: It continuously annoys me how little ESPN and other Americans appreciate the Olympics. While amazing pageantry and competition that involved the entire world was taking place, all ESPN had to talk about was whether Georgia is the real #1 and exhibition…err, I mean preseason NFL. Give me a break! Perhaps the four-letter network has such a negative attitude only because they can’t show ANY of the Olympics—thereby saving them from the garbage that takes up most of their airtime—but I think part of it is egocentrism: our sports are the most important! Let’s be honest; the most important sporting events in the world are in this order: 1. Olympic Games (both winter and summer), 2. World Cup, 3. Super Bowl.

As I started writing this post, I couldn’t help but feel that I had written on this subject before. Yep, I did. But that was over two years ago and it was for the winter games, which I like slightly better. The summer Olympics commence this Friday with what is bound to be the amazing and slightly overwrought opening ceremonies. I intend to watch it if I can. I can’t help it: I like the Olympics.

Every time the Olympics rolls* around, the folks on ESPN start talking about whether it matters. I ashamedly admit I’ve been a part of the “does this matter?” conversation before (on other matters), and it’s always very self-absorbed and myopic. Do the Olympics matter as much as a Cubs World Series? Not to me, but for just about everyone else in the world, the Olympics are far more important. The Olympics is the World Series for every sport involved**.

There is a lot to love about the Olympic Games. Everyone the world over is involved in this event, and this is especially true of the summer games–folks who live around the equator don’t ski much for some reason. I like the spectacle of each nation being announced in several languages and marching around the track. Yes, the costumes are corny sometimes, but so what? I like watching sports I forget exist and becoming engrossed in the action. I really like that there is always something on TV worth watching, although this may be troublesome for my thesis…

I like that stupid NBC tipany and trumpet theme: “Da, DA, da-da da duh da duh, duh duh duh-duh, da-da-da-da duh da-da-da da DA!” (Editor’s note: I realize the previous sentence is complete gobbledygook for anyone unfamiliar with the song.) I also enjoy how NBC has to bust out their E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, and M broadcasting teams to cover all the events: “Phil, you’re doing water polo!” “Water polo? What do they do with the horses?” “Just get over there and figure it out!” I bet if you were in Beijing and had a suit, they’d recruit you.

And there’s the national anthem. It’s always inspiring when one of our (more famous) athletes wins the gold and we watch squi sing along with “The Star Spangled Banner.” It’s also fun to hear other countries’ national songs.

In the spirit of PTI, I’m going to give you some things for which to watch. 1) Catch that opening ceremony. You can skip the closing one. 2) Find time to watch diving. What those divers do in mid-air is spectacular. 3) Swimming, especially if Michael Phelps is involved. It gets very exciting. 4) Gymnastics. Hey, I want to watch this stuff, so J gets some influence. There’s usually a lot of drama here anyway. 5) USA basketball. Can the men restore the legacy of the Dream Team? 6) Some track and field (not too much). The pole vault is always cool. 7) At least one sport you don’t care about at all. I love doing this. Turn on the games and watch something about which you know very little and see if you can learn something. There are people in other countries who care about this event; maybe they know something you do not.

Well, that’s all I’ve got. Are you watching? How much does the Olympics grab your attention, if at all? I’m curious to hear from you.

*This sounds like bad agreement, but I’m treating “Olympics” as one collective event.

**There are a few exceptions, notably soccer, which has the World Cup.

Last summer, if you had asked me what would be the worst possible result of an NFL season, I would have told you, “The Patriots go undefeated and win the Super Bowl.” Now here we are in January, living out that exact, depressing scenario. I will not attempt to undermine what New England has achieved this year; it’s truly remarkable and unprecedented. Unfortunately, witnessing history isn’t fun if you hate the history-maker.

I’m tired of hearing about the Pats. I’ve all but stopped listening to and watching sports programming (mostly because I’m too busy with school), and I’m not invested. I have no reason to root for the Giants, other than the fact that they’re playing New England. All the negative fanship is wearing me out. So, rather than watch yet another coronation of the Patriots (sorry, Giants; you’re going to lose), I’m not going to watch. Even if the improbable long-shot happens and New York wins the title game, it’s not worth the risk. I’m taking a pass, commercials, hype, national spotlight, mediocre halftime show and all.

Am I beginning to sound like Eeyore?

On the heels of another disappointing second place finish in the BCS Title Game* for Ohio State (38-24), it’s time for the Big Ten to face the truth: Big Ten football is too slow. For much of the year, this isn’t obvious because the Big Ten teams play each other, and they’re all slow. It’s the out-of-conference games that make this so obvious. Remember Michigan losing to Appalachian State? (Oh man, that was a great day!) App State ran past them. And now we see it for the second consecutive year from the Buckeyes in the title game; they just can’t keep up.

Colin Cowherd argues that the reason the Big Ten is so slow is that all the best recruits want to play in warm weather states. This is true to a point, but I posit that the players desire to play in warmer climates because of the style of football played not the weather. The SEC, ACC, and PAC-10 play very different football than does our beloved midwestern conference. The Big Ten is up-the-gut, pound-it-out, play-action-when-necessary football. This isn’t wrong and doesn’t make for poor football, but it isn’t enough to be great anymore; worse, it won’t attract any recruits. If you’re a speedy receiver, are you going to Iowa, where you’ll catch maybe two balls a game, or will you choose Florida, where you may get ten catches some days and plenty of deep balls? It’s an easy choice.

The Big Ten needs to change its style of play. The teams need to start…yes, I’m going to say it…passing the football! And not just on third down! Spread it out and throw the ball. Don’t lose the running game—that’s always needed—but put some air under the pigskin. And blitz on defense! Try some risky stuff; make it fun. Only then will we see the best recruits heading to the midwest. Otherwise, Big Ten, stay the way you are and continue sinking slowly into mediocrity.

*I don’t even know if this was the title game. The two-loss champion beat the team that lost to Illinois? The BCS is worse every year.

In the spirit of sibling rivalry and poor sportsmanship, I’d like to point out that Justin’s, J’s, and my alma mater Bethel beat my sister’s current employer Central yesterday 27-13. Aww, poor Dutch. Sure, it was cold and rainy, but that didn’t stop the Royals from rushing for over 300 yards–300! Can someone find a linebacker for Central? They seem not to have come to the game.

Don’t feel ashamed of your new school there, Karen; they did make the playoffs. But then they ran into the Bethel freight train. As for the Royals, we’re heading to the NCAA div III semifinals. Read all about it.

You know, sis, I wouldn’t have known about this game if weren’t for your taunting via email. I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson.

That player who is enormously enlarged due to Human Growth Hormone and used to play for the Giants recently said he’d boycott the Hall of Fame if the baseball he hit for #”756″ is displayed. The ball will be branded with an asterisk by Mr. Marc Ecko in a brilliant move. The quote from the steroid-using outfielder: “I won’t go. I won’t be a part of it. You can call me, but I won’t be there.”

Fantastic! Actually, let’s just beat him to the punch and not invite him to begin with! Then we can display the ball with the appropriate asterisk and not have to induct the biggest, most obvious cheater in a generation of cheaters in the Hall of Shame…err, I mean Fame. Thanks for making this so easy, you slow-moving, HGH-taking, former great player!

Oh, and I won’t call you.

Twice this fall, I’ve written about how excited I was about a team in the MLB playoffs (one, two), and twice, said team was surreptitiously swept by their opponent. Hmm. The editorial staff doesn’t know whether to chalk this up to coincidence, a hitherto unrealized power over baseball playoffs, some vendetta fortune has against teams for which I cheer, or the chaos theory, but we sure wish it would work on a certain football team whose coach insists on looking like a bum every week. I guess influencing the sports world via opinionated blog articles isn’t as easy as it sounds.