The Zong

Watching teams like the Patriots and Indianapolis play football this weekend, I was reminded about how, over the course of a decade or so, a bunch of football franchises will embody a certain character or personality that they will carry with them into rivalries and championships from year to year. The Brady-Belichick Pats (recent controversy notwithstanding) have the win at all costs, all-business ruthlessness that reminds me of the the Parcells-Era New York Football Giants, a team that dismantled many of its opponents much like the Patriots have done thus far this season. The Manning-Dungy Colts have ushered in a precision and class in their own dominance that reminds me of Bill Walsh’s Best Niner teams, and one could go on and on about the teams led by Jeff Fisher, Bill Cowher, etc. It has very little to do with whether the team is successful on any given Sunday, and much more about how they go about winning and losing.

What kind of character, then, is being developed by Mike Nolan’s 49ers? They are 2-1 but could very, very easily be 0-3. Here’s Alex Smith, after yesterday’s rout at the hands of the Steelers:

“We left some plays out there on the field. There were big chunks there,” Smith said. “That was a good defense we faced. And I think we’ll learn a lot from this game.”

He’s right about the defense. Pittsburgh has a great one. A defense that hasn’t allowed an individual 100-yard rushing performance since 2005 isn’t the kind of defense you’re gonna have a great day against when your only weapon is a running back. It’s kind of the coaches’ responsibility to address that, maybe by opening up the passing game a bit.

But that’s not the point. I’ve been listening to Alex Smith and Mike Nolan and countless other players talking about how they will be “learning” from the losses this team suffers (for more than two seasons now), and while that’s a great trait to instill in your organization, it’s not the character that I’m seeing this team develop just yet. If anything, Alex Smith looks as if he’s regressed this season from last, and an offense that looked improved and healthy on paper has been nothing short of tedious to watch for the first three games. I’m not sure who should shoulder the blame, but the more times I hear the players talk about learning from mistakes and losses, the less I think they’re actually learning from them. I didn’t expect them to win in Pittsburgh this weekend, but I was hoping they’d score a touchdown before there were 2 minutes left in the game.

So while Belichick’s Pats continue to refine themselves, what kind of character will the Niners develop under Nolan? Will they be the team that returns from adversity with a vengeance, the team that continually learns and improves, or just another mediocre franchise that says the right things after the games?

An excerpt from a statement just posted on BarryBonds.com:

Dear Fans,

This journal will be one of my last entries as a San Francisco Giant. Yesterday, I was told by the Giants that they will not be bringing me back for the 2008 season. During the conversation with Peter McGowan I was told that my play this year far exceeded any expectations the Giants had, but that the organization decided this year would be my last season in San Francisco. Although I am disappointed, I’ve always said baseball is a business — and I respect their decision. However, I am saddened and upset that I was not given an earlier opportunity to properly say goodbye to you, my fans, and celebrate with the city throughout the season as I truly believe this was not a last minute decision by the Giants, but one that was made some time ago. I don’t have nor do I want any ill feelings towards the organization, I just wish I had known sooner so we had more time to say our goodbyes and celebrate the best 15 years of my life.

I would have loved nothing more than to retire as a Giant in the place where I call home and have shared so many momentous moments with all of you, but there is more baseball in me and I plan on continuing my career. My quest for a World Series ring continues.

Until next time,

Barry Bonds

Assuming for a moment that this is actually happening (it wouldn’t be the first time he said he wasn’t coming back as a negotiation ploy), it seems as if the Giants may actually start to rebuild this franchise with a little youth. The problem is, with the farm system in shambles and a payroll bloated with players almost as old as Barry is, it’s going to be years before the franchise recovers from a rash of terrible decisions made by McGowan and Sabean over the past several seasons. All the years of selling out games because of Barry Bonds are at an end; it’s now time for ownership to see first hand the kind of fan base they’ve cultivated, the kind of team they’ve paid to put on the field, and the amount of money they’re going to lose as the franchise becomes the new long-term resident of the N.L. West Cellar. Nicely done, assholes!

UPDATE:  Looks like it’s real. The Giants have confirmed the story.

God damn, it’s great to be done with baseball, isn’t it? I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders, not to return until pitchers and catchers report in 2008. Giants fans have endured yet another miserable season with few bright spots and lots of familiar dark ones. Count on management to bring Barry back again and to make a lot of noise about how the team is going to get younger. Again.

In the meantime, I’ll be waiting for this team to give me a reason not to start going to A’s games next year. As I’ve said many, many times, great fans will stick with a team through losing seasons, terrible personnel decisions, and scandals, but Peter Magowan and friends continue to demonstrate time and time again that they’re interested less in building a winning franchise from the ground up than they are in running a retirement prep-school for light-hitting, old-timey players and squeezing every last dollar out of the dwindling tenure of MLB’s biggest pariah. There’s only so much more that I can take, and I wonder how the Giants will be able to build any substantial payroll once Bonds finally hangs it up. Do they think people will show up to see Pedro Feliz every night? Barry Zito’s a handsome guy, but he only plays every fifth day. At any rate, management should get a good preview of what the stadium will look like for the next few years over the next week, as Bonds is on the shelf with a toe injury for the rest of the Giants’ home games.

Folks around here are tossing around the idea of bringing A-Rod to San Francisco next season, coming off possibly his best offensive season, for a price approaching $30 million a year. If that ever becomes more than a pipe dream, I won’t sit here and say he wouldn’t look good in a Gigantes uniform, but anyone who thinks that move will all of a suddenly make them a contender wasn’t watching this season, and could use an explanation of what it means to provide protection to your best hitter. Bonds hasn’t had anyone protecting him in this lineup since Porn ‘Stache left, and the results definitely speak for themselves. I hate to keep asking this, but really, why the fuck didn’t we try to sign Vladimir Guerrero?

And so the football season is underway, and so the 49ers are the most unconvincing 2-0 since forever, but at least they’re 2-0. (against division foes, no less.) As a fan, I want to believe that something is going to happen to transform the high-school offense I’ve seen the last two weeks into a productive, professional-looking unit going into Pittsburg. As an angry foe of limp inefficiency, I was in physical pain on Sunday watching the 49ers call a simple tailback dive on downs like 2nd and 19 and (with the game on the line!) 3rd and 9. Alex Smith once again looked like a rookie, and while I feel as if part of the responsibility rests with Jim Hostler (the Offensive Coordinator) and his incredible fear of the vertical yard, it is not an encouraging sign when your team’s former Quarterback of the Future looks like he’s going to shit his pants every time he takes a 3-step drop. He showed flashes of great poise near the end of the season last year, but the Faithful won’t wait much longer for him to get his shit together this year.

Mike Nolan, newly anointed savior that he may be, made at least one severely questionable call, taking his last timeout as the Rams scrambled to take the field to attempt a game-winning field goal. He defended his decision, as you would want your coach to, but it’s hard to see how anyone thinks it wasn’t a blunder. Had St. Louis made the field goal, the 49ers anemic offense would have been hard-pressed to win the game, period, much less without any timeouts left.

That said, Nolan is still young as a coach, and this young team and its upstart defense somehow finds itself perched alone atop the NFC West. I love that part, but the next few games on the schedule will reveal a great deal about the makeup of this team. I don’t care how good the defense looks, they can’t continue to stop anyone if they’re on the field for the whole game, and going into Pittsburg with the offense looking the way that it does, it’s hard to imagine the 49ers eking out another victory next Sunday. I mean, maybe Alex Smith will get his groove back, and maybe Jim Hostler will draw up a plan that includes a few first downs here and there, but right now I’m just hoping the team starts to look competent.

On the other hand, like the Giants the 49ers suffer from a recent tradition of mismanagement, compounded by the treatment of a generation of loyal fans that seems genuinely spiteful. I’ve only been to one home game so far this year, but my general feeling after witnessing what has become of the Candlestick Experience is that the Yorks have abandoned the attempt at even appearing friendly to San Franciscans. Judging by the general price and quality of the concessions, the state of the bathrooms, the lack of any onions anywhere to put on my hot dog, and the shortage of stadium personnel on hand to deal with anything at all seemed a big fat “Go Fuck Yourself” straight from ownership right on down to any fan who cares to pay for season tickets. It’s a good thing the team actually won the game.

I won’t lie: needling Mr. Glaser is extremely satisfying. There’s something about popping balloons filled up with so much assurance that makes a satisfying sound. So it was with Mr. Barry Bonds and Glaser’s obsession with him. Since I first met him, I was reminded, twice a week in the off season, every game day when the Boys of Summer plied their trade, that Barry Bonds was the Greatest Human of All Time, second only perhaps to Jerry Rice or Joe Montana, and don’t forget San Francisco is the Greatest City in the World. I’m all for hometown pride and regionalism, but there’s only so much of this type of thing you can take before you look for some excuse, any excuse, to take a little wind out of the sails of a friend.

When the BalCo scandal broke, it was a perfect opportunity. I might as well be honest: I’m sure it was partial jealousy. As a New England sports fan, we have been long suffering, save these last few years of championship renaissance. It felt good to see San Francisco Super Fan Number One taken down peg. The chants, the asterix, the booing: it all felt pretty darn good.

So I can’t say we don’t deserve it.

The bitter cocktail of Harrison’s suspension and Videotapegate is gonna taste pretty gross come this Sunday morning, and that’s with the Bloody Mary washing it down. Fan loyalty is a funny thing, but gimmie a break: I’m not the type of guy to defend what is essentially a giant entertainment franchise who happens to be located 40 miles outside of Boston. The mulling a few years ago of the Patriots moving to St. Louis (before they got the other LA team) shows that, as far as the NFL is concerned, the money in St. Louis is just as green as the money in Boston. But, yeah, I’m pissed off at the Patriots for giving fodder to the idiot at the bar who will no doubt heckle me now. Thanks, Belichek: you’ve made my life a little harder.

I refuse to make excuses for cheating. But let’s be honest, they’re just the latest team to get caught. LT comments aside, as the Times reports, stealing signals is as old as George Halas. To think that the Patriots committed some kind of unconscinable sin that the rest of the league is agog at the level of depravity of is absurd. At this point, the money is so high and so many jobs are at stake, it’s not surprising that in professional sports, cheating and lying is deregure.

But here’s the Zong of the Week: did Belichek’s press conference remind you of something? Because it sure did for me.

Hypocrisy in any form stinks like the Powell St. station. What the Patriots organization did is a disgrace: as one of the few people left on the planet who believes in honor and playing by the rules, it’s a heavy tarnish on a team that up until this point, you could feel proud supporting. As an organization, it filled a gaping hole left by other institutions that supposedly hang their hat on a set of principles. Like, say politics in this country. Abu Ghirab, Gitmo, CIA black sites, preventive detention, gerrymandering…and maybe taping the other coaches calls: are they all part of the same phenomenon?

As The Decider’s time in the playpen winds down, the wonks have begun postulating of his legacy, and what will be said in the history books. Besides a few dead-ender Neocons vainly flapping their chicken wings and saying “Just you wait!”, most agree that this is one of most mismanaged, intellectually bankrupt, corrupt presidencies ever, whose lasting contribution to the American political landscape is the Roveian tactics of smearing, lying, cheating, vote tampering, and shoving aside dissent. It’s always bugged me that from now on, when 5 graders open up their textbooks, the smilin’ Decider will be there on the same double page spread as Lincoln and FDR. I’m hoping there’s an asterix beside his name, because he doesn’t represent what makes me proud to be an American.

I have been, and will always be, a severe humanist. Vonnegut is my Siddhartha. But there are times when I think that those religious folks on TV have a point. Where has our center gone? Are we so deficit of any type of mores now that anything you can do to win is allowed? Tell me that’s not really where we are now. Please.

I hope the Patriots win 10 more Superbowls while I’m alive. But somehow, those rings won’t sparkle as brightly for me anymore.

This past weekend, I lived the San Francisco sports fan’s dream, as I attended a Giants-Dodgers game on Friday night (thanks Joe!) and then went to the Niners’ season opener on Monday evening. Never have I been able to contrast the fan experience, and the irony of said experience, so closely. Let me take an ungodly amount of space to tell you what I mean.

Sitting a scant 6 rows from the third base line on Friday, on a gorgeous late-summer evening, I couldn’t imagine wanting much more as a Giants fan, other than maybe having a team good enough to have a winning season. Still, I grew up watching this team when the “playoffs” meant trying to knock the Dodgers’ blue asses right out of the postseason, so I was riled up and ready to go, just like in the old days. You have to just try and enjoy the games, you see.

I learned quickly, however, that if you’re going to sit in the nice seats at a Gigantes game, you’d better enjoy the game quietly, and without standing up. Ever.

Joe Alterio, who was born and raised in Boston, actually brought me to the game, and was attending his first Giants game at the House that Bonds Built. (”Wow, this stadium is beautiful.”) I was hoping that, in spite of several other similar situations, Giants fans would be loud and rowdy and excited for baseball, like Red Sox fans have been since before it was cool. Instead, I was completely embarrassed to be a Giants fan by the third inning. When Jonathan Sanchez, who pitched very well, had two strikes on a guy with two outs, I stood up and began cheering while literally every fucking “fan” within 100 feet of me sat on their hands, quietly and politely, so as not to disturb the players, I guess. Everyone sitting in season-ticketville was as quiet as a whore in church, except for the elderly 45-year old sitting behind me, wearing a Giants hat.

“Could you SIT DOWN please? We’re trying to enjoy the game!”

That was when I looked around and saw what I didn’t really want to see: This new, special breed of Giants-game attendees, ever since the team moved out of Candlestick, are a disgrace to the team and to the city. I realize that the best seats in the park are expensive, and that rich people don’t like to yell about anything unless it involves the credit bubble, but I swear to you these fucking assholes were sitting less than 20 feet from the playing field, and couldn’t even bring themselves to clap for a strikeout. I’m convinced that, far from being unable to appreciate the beauty and excitement of the game itself, these people weren’t even sure what was going on most of the time.

And so it went, for the entire game, until the Giants won on a walk-off home run. (To scattered applause in my section) I asked some of the fans more than once why they didn’t just save their money and watch the game at home. Their ostrich-skin couches are probably far more comfortable than the seats at AT&T. As I got louder and more incensed by the insouciance of these “Be Seen Somewhere!” meatsacks, I was told on more than one occasion that I should “sit in the bleachers next time” or “start wearing a Dodger hat.” Maybe I will. Dodger Fan may come late and leave early, but at least it’s OK to yell a little bit at their FUCKING BASEBALL STADIUM.

Sorry for yelling. The bleacher comment really got me, though. I guess you pay more money for the right to sit down and read a good book at Giants games now.

I was redeemed on Monday for a time, however. Monday Night Football is exciting, no doubt, but The 49er Faithful were a fucking mob of goddamned maniacs at that football game. No matter how many times the ownership proves that they hate their fans, no matter how shitty the parking/restrooms/food/seats at Candlestick are, my brethren in red and gold showed the fuck up and made that stadium loud enough that I couldn’t hear an effing thing for the whole first half. I swear that I sat in the wrong section (I’ve been sitting in these seats since I was old enough to walk) at first because everyone was STANDING UP and I couldn’t see the section numbers.

Now, it’s true that there are a lot of douchebags at Niner games, and I’m sure that a lot of people don’t have fun at the games because they get into fights with the douchebags, but for the most part, in my section, everyone was having a fantastic fucking time, and we screamed our bloody heads off, and nobody even once told me to keep it down. Sure, things got kinda quiet when the Niners started to look like they did two years ago, but the end of the game was very exciting, and I’m telling you I probably have hearing damage from the volume after that game-winning drive.

So what’s the difference between the rowdy 49er Faithful and the anemic pussies digging into lobster bisque at Giants games? It’s not the ticket price–our tickets to AT&T were the best I’ve ever sat in, and the face value was $33 as compared to the cheapest seats at Candlestick for a Niner game, which stand at about fifty bucks. It’s not the teams’ measure of success–The 49ers packed the stadium full of screaming fans, and they haven’t even had a winning record since 2002. It’s surely not the stadium or the accommodations, as I couldn’t even get onions on my polish sausage when I ordered it, anywhere. Candlestick, though I do love it so, is a fucking disaster area, obviously at the behest of the Yorks.

I contend that the problem starts with seat licenses, an idea that sounds great on paper: Get the fans of the team to chip in a little extra so they can have great seats in the new stadium. Surely, the Giants built one of the most amazing professional sports venues in the world right on the waterfront with mostly private money, and I applaud them for such a grand design, but part of the plan included selling exorbitantly expensive “Charter Seats” to willing parties with deep fucking pockets. The result has been nothing less than a corporate buyout of the best seats in the park, ensuring that most of the fans with the best view of the game are only there because their company pays for the tickets, and lord knows you’ll have a tough time keeping clients if you can’t take them to a Giants-Nationals game on a Wednesday afternoon.

In addition, the charter licenses have become the property of more and more people who treat them like real-estate, and who buy and sell the licenses and seats like lofts in SOMA. A quick look on Craigslist for charter licenses reveals a little insight into why your typical orange-blooded Giants fan can’t really afford to go to many games, much less sit near the field.

What will become of the 49er Faithful if the Yorks get their wish and the team moves to Santa Clara? Surely, there are seat licenses involved, and we know how that worked out for the Oakland Raiders. On Monday, the frothy fervor of my fellow fans made me happy and excited, and made the game as enjoyable as any I’ve seen despite all the offensive futility. I do not look forward to the day when I drive to Santa Clara to use the $190 ticket I bought from a season-ticket holder trying to recoup some of the money he spent on his seat license, to watch my favorite football team play against the Cardinals, only to be told to sit down and be quiet by the guy behind me wearing a tie.

So, I’m busy working on a small treatise about how crappy San Francisco Giants fans are when the team plays in it’s own home park, but I had to stop and comment on this story. Evidently, some poor bastard at an Astros game proposed to a woman last night and got popcorn dumped on his head before she stormed out of the place faster than a Mormon at a donkey show.

I don’t know the circumstances surrounding any of this, but the Houston Chronicle has a couple observations from Astros skipper Phil Garner.

“If it was an act, she put on a good one,” Garner said. “She looked totally surprised and then totally mad. We couldn’t even get a proposal right down here tonight.

“We lead the league in marriage proposals, and we couldn’t get that one right tonight.”

Putting aside that it’s not a great idea, ever, to propose to someone at a regular season Astros-Nationals game, let’s not forget how nervous the poor bastard probably was that she might say no, and then imagine his “surprise” when she dumped a bunch of popcorn on his head — in anger.

I don’t know if it was an act or not, but I think this guy dodged a bullet. I’m not an expert on relationships or anything, but if a woman’s reaction to your marriage proposal is to get pissed at you, think about how fun things are gonna get the first time you forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste. Consider yourself warned.

Anyhow, the guy who wrote the article for the HouChron, one Jose de Jesus Ortiz, has one of the best leads I’ve ever read in sports journalism. Props to you, Jose, for writing this:

“It was not a good idea to make assumptions Monday night at Minute Maid Park…”

Brilliant. Thanks to DK for sending me the story…

Watching the highlights from #756, one thing really stands out to me about Barry Bonds. His swing hasn’t changed much (though his physique has) over the years, and the cut he took to launch that ball out past the 420 marker was about as great a swing as has ever existed. The man is 43 years old, and I think we can probably be pretty sure he’s not still juicing. I grew up watching Bonds play for the Giants, and the pure balance and mechanical precision of the man’s swing when he’s hitting well is a familiar, welcome sight to anyone wanting the Giants to win a ballgame.

Strip away all the juicing and the venom surrounding the record for a minute, or don’t. It’s still there: Bonds is undeniably among the greatest pure hitters the game has ever seen. Add in all the gold gloves, stolen bases, MVPs and records, and it’s hard not to wonder how different this moment would be for everyone involved had steroids never been infused into Major League Baseball. You already know that there’s more than one man to blame for it, but Bonds’ achievement last night is a rare (but not unprecedented) thing for the history of baseball, in that the monumental nature of the moment highlights both what is great about his talent, and tragic about his character.

And by the way, the Giants lost to the Nationals last night, 8-6.  It’s finally fucking football season!

Putting aside for one minute the fact that Barry Bonds is reviled by folks in the media and Los Angeles, and the fact that he has become the face of steroid allegations all over the world of baseball, let’s review the reaction to home run #755 from the fans in San Diego (who have seen Bonds hit more home runs against them than any other team) and the reaction of commissioner Bud Selig. If you’ve been living under a rock for awhile you probably didn’t hear that he didn’t even applaud when Bonds tied Hank Aaron Saturday evening.

No matter how you feel about Bonds, and actually, because of the way you feel about him, this was history of a unique sort for the sports world. The great thing about sports is that you can choose to dismiss the garish numbers Bonds has put up over his career if you want to. Even though he’s never actually failed a steroids test, you can go with the popular assumption that he’s a cheater, and then write off the man’s natural talent and all his records because of that. I can’t blame you for it, and in fact my opinion of the man as a fan of both the Giants and the game lies somewhere in between reverence and shame. The point is that we’re fans, and fans are allowed to be critical because we pay to watch the games.

Major League Baseball, on the other hand, takes our money and we trust that they’ll do a good job preserving the game’s integrity, tradition and excitement. Bud Selig, for all the attendance records set during his tenure, oversaw every aspect of the administration of the league since being named Acting Commissioner in 1992. One of the most important choices he made was to turn a blind eye to a pervasive steroids-fueled culture within the sport just as long as the fans wanted to see more home runs hit. While everyone turns on Bonds as he breaks baseball’s most hallowed record, why the fuck isn’t anyone discussing the home run chase that “saved baseball” after the strike? Did Selig applaud Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire as they chased Roger Maris? How can anyone forget Sammy Sosa’s claim that he built his physique with “Flinstones Vitamins” and McGwire’s reluctant admission at the time that he was using Andro, much less Big Mac’s non-denial of steroids use under oath in front of congress? Selig can acknowledge the damage the steroids scandal has done to the game by putting his fucking hands in his pockets instead of applauding, but when will he acknowledge that Bonds is a product of a culture that he, himself encouraged for years until the BALCO scandal and Canseco’s book?

The real irony here is that steroids brought people back to the ballpark after the strike, which makes ignoring it a great business decision by Selig. When Bonds hit number 755, he had to be told to stand up by one of his staffers, and then he stood there with his hands in his pockets while San Diego’s home fans stood and cheered. This display of indifference (and hypocrisy) should stand as an enduring image long after Bud’s retirement, and should serve to remind all the Bonds-hating reporters and fans about who made the soiling of Aaron’s record possible in the first place.

The great Bill Walsh has died of leukemia, and the Chronicle has a good piece up today about him. When I was growing up, I was spoiled by some of the greatest teams who ever played professional football, teams built up from nothing by the man himself, and it is as important as ever that I remind myself how good Niners fans had it when he was running the show.

Folks throw around the word “genius” to describe temporarily successful football coaches fairly often, (Mike Martz?) but in the Bay Area we were fortunate enough to have the real deal for more than two generations, and the West Coast Offense that Walsh created continues to exist and evolve in the NFL as a testament to him. Nevertheless, I think an even greater contribution to football that Walsh made was evident in the demeanor of the teams he led. Throughout (and despite) the franchise’s dominance in the 80s and 90s, the 49ers wore their success without showboating, developing a reputation for class and excellence that will forever be associated with Bill Walsh and the players he coached.

Thanks for all the great football, Bill. You are missed.

EXTRA CREDIT: For all my beloved Pats-fan cronies, Charles Robinson over at Yahoo! Sports has a great article about Walsh’s influence on Bill Belichick during his formative years. It’s a fitting tribute to the man and some great insight into the mind of Belichick, possibly the greatest coach since the implementation of the salary cap.

I’ll bet Bud Selig’s pissed that he decided to attend last night’s game, a fiercely impotent battle between two mediocre bullpens that resulted in the Giants once again going gently into that home dugout after 13 innings that must have kept the cadaverous commish wondering how many garlic fries his constitution could possibly withstand.

He lives on, and his surprise attendance as Bonds approaches .250 adds little more than a shrug to the festivities at AT&T Park, where fans continue to pay good money to watch a storied, revered baseball franchise suffocate each night under the plastic sheet of ham-handed fuckery that the front office has draped over the entire proceeding. It is sad for me to imagine how different the situation might be if the Giants were actually in contention right now, controversy or no. As it is, when he finally does break the record (if they don’t indict him first) the cheers and applause will sound for all intents and purposes like a giant sigh of relief, and shortly thereafter you can expect attendance at the park to look more and more like a baseball game in Florida as the Giants stumble around blindly in the basement of one of the weakest divisions in baseball.

Check out the upper right hand corner of this page. The race between the number of Bonds’ homers (19) and the Giants’ number of games beneath .500 (16!) is actually becoming a race, and their status as the worst team in the majors gets stronger every day. As soon as he breaks the record, it will officially be football season in San Francisco. For several years.