Ghosts Among Men

Wednesday--a tale of two matchups. On the face of it, few would argue that Barry Bonds squaring off against Randy Johnson is tantamount to baseball in a nutshell. On the one hand, five Cy Young awards, a perfect game and 94 strikeouts this season. On the other seven MVP awards, 63 walks and an eight game Home Run streak in 2004. Men like these are modern gladiators. And it's a travesty that they're not fighting for anything except the wooden spoon.

Instead then, I watched the rising, brightly shining stars of the game as they clashed in a flurry of noise, energy and expectation. Anaheim, CA, and not for the first time. Despite the slow-motion feats of Mr. Bonds and his underlings, the Giants are simply not an exciting team to watch. Casey Kotchman and Pedro Martinez on the other hand duelled for five whole minutes--and sixteen pitches--as if their very salaries depended on it. Vladimir Guerrero, whose 9 RBIs set a new franchise record, is without doubt the most precocious talent in the game: A man whose reach defies the laws of the strike zone, and a superior athlete who strains to hide his boyish delight as he huddles in the dugout to the acclaim of his team mates. These guys seem a lot more excited than San Francisco and their aloof, sullen contingent. Manny Ramirez meanwhile adds a more textbook interpretation to the proceedings, golfing a ball in a glorious arc to center field.

The list goes on, all to the sounds (and cheers, unlike SBC) of fans who have come not only to be entertained, but to enjoy the game in all its joyous unpredictability. Joe Morgan adds depth and dignity to the play. In Arizona on the other hand, to the testosterone-fueled sounds of Krukow and Kuiper, nothing is learned--and even less is worth watching as two teetering franchises rest uneasily on the laurels of their respective unholy player.

Aged 81 between them, this is the summation not only of these teams collective talent, but their collective charm. Dressed in grey, playing to an audience either unwilling or uncaring, these poor fellows look like ghosts among ordinary men. It seems these are the games decided not by great feats of skill, but by mistakes. It's sad to say, but I'm tired of waiting to see whose day it won't be.