ANYBODY BUT YOU!

YOU! WAIT, YASMANI, WHAT?

WHO ARE YOU? WHO’S YASMANI GRANDAL?

NOOOOOOO!!!!

The above was an internal conversation most Padres fans had with themselves last week. And, I don’t blame them. Most people have/had no idea who Yasmani Grandal is. Honestly, he doesn’t even sound like a real person, like a name generated in MLB The Show.

Just thinking about some stuff. (Christopher Hanewinckel-US PRESSWIRE)

But, I knew who Yasmani Grandal was. And, now I know who Yasmani Grandal is. He’s a cheat, a liar, and a shining example that Baseball’s worst fears are coming true.

I’m 32 years old and have lived and breathed Baseball for a majority of that time. It’s not a fate I chose, it honestly felt like it chose me, and I’ve felt like the game was always a part of my life. After the strike of 1994 I was pretty sure I would never come back. I know that’s a bold statement for a 14-year old to make, but I felt betrayed. I felt like the players and owners had no interest in what I cared about, which was them. My love for what they did was not being reciprocated, and at 14 the world pretty much revolves around you, so I left the game in favor of Bad Religion and Spitfire wheels. Four years later, like most Americans I got pulled back in, but for us San Diegans that yank was two-fold: The Padres reaching the World Series and of course the McGwire/Sosa homerun race. The first reason proved futile, as anyone who came back to the Padres in ’98 were immediately devastated to find themselves rooting for whatever it was we had in 1999.

The second thing that once again peaked America’s interest in Baseball, was far more spectacular and for a short time completely untouchable. Two massive men, with arms like small oak trees began hitting homeruns like no one had seen in decades. Not just the amount, but also the distance, the hang time, the pure power with which these round trippers were leaving the yard became astounding. It not only seemed like Baseball was back, it seemed like Americana revisited. An old Norman Rockwell painting come to life in a bygone era when we didn’t focus our attention on grown men bashing their heads together and for a short time, we all felt smarter. Kids came back in droves, rooting for their favorite. The question wasn’t, “What’s your favorite team?” it was, “Sosa or McGwire?” But, after the rockets been fired and the streamers grounded, something seemed off.

A couple seasons later, when it was obvious that things were indeed a bit skewed, millions once again felt betrayed. To adults it didn’t seem all that strange, athletes cheating had always been a part of sport. Although, this seemed a bit deeper and a bit more…dastardly, we all took it in stride. It sucked, but as more and more facts and numbers became public it looked like this was pretty much how the game had been played for quite some time. Bud Selig wasn’t shocked, in fact no one within the game felt betrayed, only saddened that it was now public knowledge. When they began talking about asterisks and omitting people from the Hall of Fame because of steroid use I personally became enraged. Why were they being vilified? Because they did what most of the sport was doing? They needed to stay relevant? Going by this awful double standard, then every record before 1947 should have an asterisk next to it, and every record from the Dead Ball Era as well. (For more on this I heavily encourage you to read a brilliant article my friend Joe Quadres wrote in 2006 on an old sports blog. WARNING: It contains adult language, but is possibly the best thing I’ve ever read on steroids.)

When it was pretty apparent that no actual adult cared that players were using steroids, because cheating is something we all do in some way or another, Selig and the Major Leagues shifted their argument. It was no longer about the purity of the sport, because that’s something Selig let die long before 1998.

It became about the kids.

We had to protect our children! We couldn’t let American children know their heroes were full of crap, and we definitely couldn’t let them know how they were full of crap! What if kids found out that in most cases steroids did give you a competitive edge? They could up your contract, or your signing bonus for that matter, by millions of dollars! Not to mention the side effects from using steroids could be disastrous, and kids could die! The narrative shifted so quickly it seemed like Major League Baseball had given up on current players as a lost cause, and looked on to prevention in the Minor Leagues, college and even high school. Suddenly, Baseball cared about its fans, because suddenly Baseball could be directly responsible for literally ruining the lives of children. I agreed with this then, but unfortunately Baseball’s reach was not far enough and now looks to have been too little too late.

In the last year we’ve seen three players suspended 50-games for steroid violations: Melky Cabrera (28 yrs old), Bartolo Colon (39 yrs old), and now Yasmani Grandal, who just turned 24. Colon can easily be written off in the same vein as a Jason Grimsley or Manny Ramirez; the aging player looking for a lift as their skills begin to diminish. But, Cabrera and Grandal are right in the wheelhouse when Baseball really f’ed up. During the historic and media frenzied ’98 homerun show, Grandal was only 10 yrs old and Cabrera was 14 – the same age I was when I was so impressionable I walked away from fandom for feeling so directly affected by something that had nothing to do with me. Just think what these two felt when seeing two giant and powerful ballplayers smashing the ball out of the yard, and being portrayed more heroic than Rocky in Rocky IV. Young, impressionable kids being told by Baseball and the country that THESE men are heroes. THESE men are the best, the elite and examples of all that is good about the game.

Of course years later, that was all torn down and found to be inaccurate, but it was too late. A whole generation of kids saw what they were told to see. By the time Baseball got its shit together it meant nothing to these kids. I mean no matter what anybody tells me I’ll always love Labyrinth, even though watching it now I can literally see how awful it is. The film resonates with me because of when I saw it, who I saw it with and what that time and age meant to me. It’s bigger than the film, just like the pageantry of ’98 was always going to be much bigger than McGwire, Sosa or Bud Selig’s ineptness.

So, Baseball’s worst fears in 1998 have begun to rear their ugly head. Despite their delayed campaigns and attempts to right their wrongs, it’s all for not. The kids of that time learned what they learned because Baseball let them. We all let them.

Do I think we should completely forgive Yasmani Grandal? No. He cheated and in turn could not only end his bright career, but could force us back to rooting for Nick Hundley. What’s worse is that now we don’t know if the hue of Grandal’s career rested on actual talent.

With one decision he impacted the hopes of literally thousands. But, why would he think anything of it? Especially since he saw first hand that same decision impact the admiration of millions. Was he wrong? Hell yes. Was it his fault? Yes. Should we blame him? No. We should blame ourselves. As much as we don’t want it to be this way, it is this way. We all made it this way. If we really want to do away with steroids, then any player who uses them should be banned from Baseball for life. That may be a bold stance, and a little too much for some people, but why? At this point in any players life they have all the information they need, and they make the decision, knowing the outcome. An outcome we pay millions to support, while Baseball pretends to spend millions to defeat. If we really want to dig ourselves out of the hole, we need to start by getting our hands dirty. It may sound like I’m hopping blame from person to fan and then back again, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Although it was Grandal’s choice, and he should be punished for making a stupid one, it’s our fault for only telling him it was a stupid choice, and not a wrong one. 50 games, 100 games, it doesn’t matter, because it is a game and you’re still allowing them to play. Rip the band-aid off and expose the wound, or keep it on forever. But, don’t let it dangle half way, clinging to the skin and threatening everyone that it could end up floating in their pool. Yasmani Grandal will be a poster boy for all that is wrong with the game, which is unfair since as a boy he was told to buy the posters of those who represented all that was right with it.

For more Padres stuff and other things you might not care about follow me on Twitter @dallas_mc

It is widely known that the Major League Baseball selection committee chooses where to hold the All-Star game based on factors such as: a newly opened field, historical occasion or to commemorate significant anniversaries.

Now, Petco Park qualifies in one of these criteria. The beautiful stadium that sits in downtown San Diego opened in 2004. So at seven years old, it is still considered one of the newer ballparks in Major League Baseball. Being that Petco Park is still relatively new, it should host an All-Star game.

Nosebleed view of Petco Park Mandatory Credit: Jake Roth-US PRESSWIRE

But it won’t be next year. MLB has already announced that the 2013 All-Star game will be played at Citi Field in Queens, New York.

Citi Field has only been in existence for two years while Petco Park has been up and running for seven. Granted the New York Mets are in the longest drought to host an All-Star game.

The Minnesota Twins along with the Chicago Cubs are bidding for the 2014 game. Target Field (the home of the Twins) opened two years ago. Petco Park has five years on Target Field.

The Cubs want to host the game in 2014 to commemorate the centennial of Wrigley Field.

The Miami Marlins and the Washington Nationals are bidding for the 2015 All-Star game.

The Marlins just relocated to Miami and moved into the new Marlins Park this year, while the Nationals opened Nationals Park in 2008.

Aside from the historic Wrigley Field, Petco Park is the oldest, newest ballpark of all those mentioned.

So where does Petco Park fit in with all this All-Star madness?

Well, this year the Mets moved in their outfield fence by as much as 12 feet and lowered the height of the home run line to 8 feet throughout the outfield, according to nymets.com

For doing this, MLB rewarded the Mets with an All-Star game (although MLB probably won’t ever publicly admit this).

The Padres must follow suit if they want an All-Star game in America’s Finest City. The last time the game was played in sunny San Diego was in 1992 at then Jack Murphy Stadium.

It is my belief that Bud Selig and company want the outfield fence at PetcoPark to be moved in before an All-Star game is welcomed in San Diego.

The day before the All-Star game is the ever-popular Home Run Derby, and let’s all be honest, no one wants to see the Home Run Derby champion win with a total of three home runs in all three rounds. A lot of great home run hitters would probably pass up the opportunity to compete in such a glamorous event because of the huge runway in the outfield.Petco Park is a pitcher’s park.

Not moving in the outfield fence would also create a low-scoring All-Star game, which will translate into bad television ratings because no one wants an All-Star game to end in a 2-1 pitcher’s duel.  Bad ratings equal less money for Major League Baseball and the television networks. Now, if the All-Star game ended 9-8 then we have something to talk about.

Lastly, not moving in the outfield fence will lead to more complaints about lack of home runs from players, coaches and Major League Baseball.

I could not think of a better place to hold the All-Star game. Petco Park has beautiful scenery, the downtown area is always buzzing and San Diego is a tourism mecca with the picturesque beaches, the World Famous San Diego Zoo and Sea World.

I feel like a team who wants a brand new stadium, only so they can get the ridiculous revenue from a ridiculous amount of press boxes, but that same team hasn’t actually won anything important in almost a decade is a bit, well…ridiculous. It’s like asking a friend to borrow $500 million dollars when that same friend has a long history of losing their job.

The Chargers and the Spanos family do not deserve a new stadium. They don’t. Not in the least. And, when the NFL threatens to stop holding the Super Bowl in San Diego until we build a new stadium with plenty of rich people boxes I sit back and laugh. Why? Cause who doesn’t love the Super Bowl in Jacksonville? Good call NFL. Roger Goodell is the master of making sense and concussions. Regardless, until the Chargers can make one post-9/11 Super Bowl appearance I don’t feel like they need a new dress. But, I guess you’re in luck cause the Chargers don’t care what I think nor do most San Diegans. The Spanos family has threatened to leave San Diego if a stadium agreement is not reached and thank sanity that our Mayor has called their bluff. Problem is our Mayor’s term is almost up and no doubt they’ll be a hoard of Chargers fans voting in a new Mayor based solely on his/her Chargers stance. Which, is possibly the most ridiculously reason to vote for anyone – actually, not it’s not. I’m sorry.

Larry Lucchino doing what he does best - talking. (Derick E. Hingle-US PRESSWIRE)

This leads me back to the first part of this thing I’m writing. Back in 1998 the Padres made an extremely smart move – they worked it – hard. They started two years previous, knowing exactly what they wanted to do. They knew that in two years they could put a measure on the ballot to get a brand-new, Baseball only, taxpayer funded stadium voted in. They sat down and thought ‘how would we get such a measure passed’? How about we make the people of San Diego care about the Padres like they used to care about them in the 80’s. How do we do that? Well, they went to the World Series in 1984, so how about we go back to the World Series? They put together a team that could make that happen and not only happen for one year, but it could happen every year until the stadium proposition showed up on the ballot. It was genius and it worked. We voted in a new stadium, which revamped an entire section of downtown and made John Moores a billionaire. San Diego was so happy, until the off-season of 1998 when a firesale as legendary as Bill Walton’s knees burned through the hearts of every single Padres fan. It was over. The promise of a brighter future rested in the arm of Jake Peavy and the steroids of Phil Nevin. Needless to say the next decade was a little uneasy. We paid for a new stadium and got an old team. We married the girl and she immediately got fat. Now we don’t care. We’re on to the new girl and she wears blue and gold. She’s popular and while our wife keeps eating and eating this new girl seems to work out more and more each year. That is until last year. This new girl who has been screwing up our marriage has started to get a little weird. She wants some real commitment from us or she is out of here. You can’t totally blame her, but it still pisses you off. I mean she’s taking off at the exact same time that your wife is going through a terrible crisis. Right now, as a San Diegan you are going through a lot. It’s your entire fault, but you’re still dealing with it and you want nothing more than someone to just figure it out.

Let’s pretend I’m your therapist and I convince you to leave you wife so that I can marry her. Well, that is almost the exact same thing that’s happening to the Padres right now and exactly the point where this analogy dovetails into not making any sense at all.

So, now we sit as jaded Padres fans. We’ve heard the promises, paid for the promises with democracy and commerce. We’ve seen those promises broken time and time again. John Moores made a ton of money from all this downtown development and didn’t spend any of it on the team he promised would contend. You could make the argument that he did raise payroll once we got to PETCO, but outside of a couple first round exits and Game 163’s, everyone knew we weren’t real contenders. We were just visitors overstaying our welcome at a house warming party we weren’t really even invited to. John Moores didn’t really care about the Padres, he cared about money and making more of it and so did his wife, which is why she got a lot of it while choosing to divorce him at the right time. Broken-hearted and a little more broke than before John Moores decided to sell the team and couldn’t even do that right. Jaded Padres fans became disenfranchised Padres fans and as of right now would rather spend the majority of their energy rooting for a football team that’s dying to leave, than root for a crap Baseball team that’s dying to exist.

Moores needs to go, Bud Selig doesn’t give a rat’s ass and the list of owners lined up to take over seem almost interested in owning a San Diego franchise, now that no other team is for sale. In the process of trying to find someone to revive a franchise that’s stuck in a memory, all the gross secrets of just how screwed up we are as a city, team and fans have risen to the surface. I mean hell; we just found out that Tony Gwynn owes a significant amount of money to the IRS! It’s all just a little too accessible and average.

Alas, this is just ridiculous ranting and if you didn’t get the fact that the whole wife/girlfriend analogy was meant to represent the Padres/Chargers then there’s really nothing else I can do for you. Football is more popular than Baseball, and as much as I hate that there is nothing I can do to change it other than invent the flux capacitor and travel back to 1955.

However, the one thing I can try to help change is your jaded attitude towards your wife. She’s had her ups and downs and sure she’s had a lot of emotional problems that you’ve had to pay for, but she really does love you and she will not leave you. She’s committed to you no matter how late you stay out with your girlfriend or say publicly you’ll never buy season tickets again. You’re girlfriend is fiery and temperamental and always claiming she’s taking off unless you impress her friends. You’re girlfriends a B. You’re wife is trying. Don’t cheat on your wife. Kickstarter.com/dallasisbuyingyourwifebywhichhemeansthepadres (this is not a real website, as Kickstarter would not let me try to buy a sports team.)

For more Padres stuff and other things you might not care about follow me on Twitter @dallas_mc