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Good story.

It’s not every day the U.S. Postal Service finds a personal connection to the thousands of celebrities, artists, musicians, plants, flowers and historic events emblazoned across postage stamps. But Thursday, the agency will honor one of its own — and thousands of others — as it unveils two stamps commemorating Negro leagues baseball.

Cleophus Brown, 76, of Birmingham, Ala., clocks in every morning at 3:30 and drives a USPS tractor-trailer full of mail from the airport to postal stations. But long before he joined the ranks of mail truck drivers, Brown was a first baseman and left-handed pitcher with the all-black Birmingham Black Barons and Louisville Clippers.

From the mid 1870s and through the next eighty years, the Negro league was where black professional ballplayers did their thing.  The inaugural game of the fully organized Negro National League was played in 1920.  With Jackie Robinson’s entry into the Major Leagues in 1947, breaking the color barrier, there was no longer a need for the black league and it disbanded in 1951. It is important to note that Robinson and the players that followed him helped influence the civil-rights revolution and without the Negro league, there might have been no ‘Jackie Robinson’ at that time.

Anecdote. Racial tensions in the Brooklyn Dodgers clubhouse were high in 1947.  A number of white players refused to play alongside Robinson and stated they would rather sit out than play with a black man.  Manager Leo Durocher ended the nonsense with these eloquent words of wisdom:

“I do not care if the guy is yellow or black, or if he has stripes like a fuckin’ zebra. I’m the manager of this team, and I say he plays. What’s more, I say he can make us all rich. And if any of you cannot use the money, I will see that you are all traded.”

The bitching ended which leads me to think that if someone could find a way for all bigots to make money off African Americans, immigrants, gays, lesbians or any other minority group which offends them, then they might come around…or, failing that, trade the bigots to some country which is in short supply of racists, homophobes and scumbags.

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It would have been only the 21st perfect game in baseball’s 135 year history.  It would have been the third perfect game of the year.  But Armando Galarraga’s perfect game will be none of these.

Commissioner Bud Selig won’t reverse an umpire’s admitted blown call that cost Armando Galarraga a perfect game.

Selig said Thursday that Major League Baseball will look at expanded replay and umpiring, but didn’t specifically address umpire Jim Joyce’s botched call Wednesday night.

Why not?  It would not be the first time that an umpire’s call has been overruled by a commissioner of baseball.

I haven’t yet heard Selig’s justification for not giving Galarraga the perfect game he pitched that night.  When he does, there better not be anything about preserving the game’s integrity.  Ask Roger Maris about the game’s integrity.  The decision to place an asterisk after his 61 home run season (now removed) was a disgrace.

In a game plagued by drug scandals and steroid use, preserving the game’s integrity would seem to be best served by not denying a man the honor he deserves.

Bud Selig.  Dick.

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It’s strange but I’m pulling for Tiger in the Masters today and it’s not because I like the man.  I don’t.  Even before news of his infidelity broke out, I knew enough about Woods to know that he was not a warm and caring human being.  But I did admire his abilities as a golfer and if he pulls it off today, it’ll be one of the great sports stories of the decade.  With his personal life in ruins, playing golf under a microscope and doing it as well as he is this weekend, takes incredible talent and focus.

One can’t help but respect that side of Tiger Woods.

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If you’re not buying that last video, how about this one?

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Any regular reader of this blog has surely come across the witty, political rhymes of Dan Speers, better known as CitizenPoet.  Dan has just published another book – Tiger Woods: Ten Ways To Play The Lie.

From chapter 6, Baring the Wood:

Very few rich and famous men would risk their prestige and positions if they knew they were going to get caught, but of course, considering exposure of their dalliances as even a remote possibility represents a contradiction in terms, at least to them. For example, Tiger Woods never suspected that one of his mistresses, Jamie Junger, would tell the world she took pictures of him passed out naked on her sofa.

The fact is, wealth and esteem create an illusion of invincibility, a heightened sense of superiority that proves they can outsmart their wives, the public, the media, their church, their mothers,their children and anyone else they choose to fool, including multiple mistresses.

In many cases, this smugness quickly turns to contrition if and when the miscreants are exposed, but even this self-serving portrayal of regret and penitence is hard for many to accept as genuine.

And, of course, Dan’s poetry can be found throughout the book.

From hookers, Tiger Woods should have steered clear,
And left all those shanks attached to a steer.

Good stuff.

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Canadians have all bases covered on this one. If they win the game, they’re champs. If they lose, well…

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So Tiger did what he had to do to salvage his career and the gazillion dollars he makes from being the best golfer on the planet.  I really don’t care except to note that as a fellow human being, I hope he honestly works it all out.

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As a strong proponent of equality, what gives here?

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(Hat Tip: Crooks and Liars)
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Yeah!!!

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On the shallowness of both Woods and his adoring fans…

No one mentions that this was one twisted, greedy human being from the get-go. Tiger Woods is what happens when you turn your child into a machine.

Pity his father, Earl Woods, is no longer around to see the destruction he has wrought. The infant who was on television putting against Bob Hope when he was 2 years old, the 3-year-old who shot 48 for nine holes, the teenager who stepped into a multi-million-dollar Nike contract before he won his first pro tournament, has finally broken out of the carefully constructed shell.

Predictably. What Tiger Woods, his father, his handlers and his sponsors failed to understand was the simplest of all truths: we are human. We are not robots.

The human Woods kept trying to break through the robot. We caught glimpses and they weren’t pleasant: The petulant child hurling his clubs and swearing when a shot goes awry. The swearing. The dirty, leering jokes.

The arrogant brat who does his famous drive-by every time he passes the autograph hounds waiting after round, refusing to do a Phil Mickelson and spend 15 minutes signing autographs for the adoring gallery.

The greedy walking corporation who made it eminently clear from the beginning that he didn’t care about the Asian sweatshop workers who were turning him into the wealthiest athlete on the planet. The American of mixed racial heritage who couldn’t care less about politics at home, where people of colour have suffered and bled for 300 years.

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In two or three years (if not sooner) most of this will be forgotten. Woods will be divorced, he’ll have as many mistresses as he wants, he’ll go back to winning majors, raking in millions and endorsing half the products on the planet. Why will he get away with it? Because sports fans want someone to worship, and the bottom line is that they don’t care if the man inside is worse than Tony Soprano.

[...]

…he’s not a hero. Never has been, never will be. Because for openers, if you’re not a hero to your own family, you’re nothing.

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