Tobacco and Baseball

Dip in a lip.

That’s the image that greeted me when I recently turned into a postseason thriller.

And spit.

A single close-up from the camera revealed the unmistakable tobacco bulge. A multitude of others also witnessed the brown stain on the lip. I think its time to curb these images, as MLB needs to ban the on-field usage of tobacco.

According to one study, around a third of MLB players use smokeless tobacco, and a fourth of minor leaguers use the substance. In my estimation, the true numbers are probably higher. Tobacco is legal and athletes are grown men, but a ban has nothing to do with them, even though tobacco cessation would obviously be beneficial to individuals. Instead a ban focuses on young eyes.

Research shows that teens increased their smokeless tobacco usage in recent years. Like it or not, athletes are role models (sorry, Charles Barkley), as kids emulate them. Athletes today enjoy greater exposure than ever. Consequently, their tobacco usage gains more exposure. The World Series averaged 19.4 million viewers in 2009. Though World Series ratings were lower this year, overall playoff ratings were strong. And the Internet offers seemingly endless possibilities for exposure.

Some experts think this exposure has contributed to the increase in smokeless tobacco usage by teens. Despite smoking percentages decreasing, it seems “dip in a lip” is making a strong comeback.

This is worrisome. Though less likely to cause death than cigarettes, smokeless tobacco contains 28 different carcinogens linked to numerous varieties of cancer. If you’ve ever seen a picture of a guy without a jawbone, you’ve seen its nasty capabilities.

I must admit that I am not without fault. Though never a frequent user, I tried the distasteful substance during my playing days. As a minor leaguer, my behavior broke the rules, as minor league baseball banned the usage of tobacco products in 1993.

Currently, the minor leagues impose a $500 fine for a player caught with tobacco and a $500 fine for the team’s manager. These fines, in comparison to minor league salaries, are exorbitant. One would think that they would sufficiently deter players from using. Yet they don’t.

Research shows that the likelihood of being caught is more important than the severity of punishment in deterring undesirable actions. Since very few players are ever actually caught using tobacco despite overt usage, the severe fines for minor leaguers have little deterrent effect. A system of lower fines with actual enforcement would more effectively reduce on-field tobacco usage.

Major League Baseball, as opposed to the minors, doesn’t even have a ban on tobacco usage. Players can pack an entire can of dip in their mouth and walk up to the plate with spit spilling down their chin if they so desire. No one will stop them, and millions of kids—future possible tobacco users—will witness it.

This use should be prohibited during games. MLB and the player’s union should work together on this issue and take a sensible approach: ban on-field usage of tobacco, implement a system of reasonable punishments, and actually enforce the ban with regularity.

Players will no doubt balk at such a move as an infringement upon their liberties, but if such a ban spares lives and jaws, then the policy would be worthwhile.

A couple of links for further reading:

http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE63D4QZ20100414

http://blogs.abcnews.com/theworldnewser/2010/04/chewing-skoal-baseball-field-ruined-life.html

New "Suitcase Chronicles" entry: When Old Friends Get a Ring

Yes, this is a rarity these days, but I took a few minutes away from summary judgment lectures to put some thoughts on paper (so to speak). It's about my former Giants' teammates winning it all.

So, without further introduction, here's an excerpt from my latest "Suitcase Chronicles" entry:

Some people told me recently I contributed to this championship moment simply by playing in the minors with these guys. Perhaps, in some distant, metaphysical way. But I downplay this. Nothing I did ever prepared Posey for catching Lincecum. Nothing I ever did helped Romo throw his signature slider. They learned these things on their own. I taught them nothing.

Yet we were friends, and we trekked a common journey together. Though my journey ended sooner than theirs, I still enjoyed the moments with them.

We seldom talk anymore. Life's present and future plans all too often stifle old friendships. Memories, however, continue to smolder. It is through these memories that I build my own World Series ring, and I'll carry this invisible ring with me until the day I die.

http://www.baseballamerica.com/today/prospects/prospect-diary/2010/2610888.html

Latinos and those things called steroids

I'm a little slow to comment on this, but there were a couple of articles that I wanted to pass along to you from the past week. The first comes from Baseball America, and it's about top Latino prospects testing positive for steroids just before the international signing period began. It's a story that should've gotten a LOT more attention but didn't.

Here's an excerpt:

MLB required 40 of the top Dominican prospects from this year's international signing class to register with the league last month, a process that included consenting to a drug test and to investigations into their ages and identities.


Baez said he recently met with the parents of about 20 players who reportedly tested positive for anabolic steroids, which is consistent with the word going around Dominican baseball circles: that nearly half of the 40 players who registered tested positive.

(Read the rest here.)

I almost did a double take when I read this. HALF of the tests came back positive. Wow.

This is very significant. The signing bonuses that top Dominican prospects are being paid has grown considerably in the past ten years, with Michael Ynoa signing with Oakland $4.25 million in 2008. Several other top prospects now receive bonuses in the millions each year.

This places them on par with first round draft picks in MLB's Rule 4 draft. They're certainly talented individuals, but they're very young, and very raw. And as this year's testing results show, some might be using steroids.

Usage of PEDs of course would inflate their natural tools. It would mean that scouts evaluations of them would be tainted. A 16-year-old throwing 97 on steroids is very different from a 16-year-old throwing 97 without steroids.

With teams paying the equivalent of first round money to these players, they need to make every assurance that their age is correct and that they are steroid free. Otherwise they're likely to see less return on their investment.

And according to one minor leaguer (who was incensed), it's not fair to other players either. Having been given huge signing bonuses, these players automatically move above other players on teams' prospect list. They're given far more chances than players who receive less money. Perhaps these chances are not duly earned.

One Latino friend told me that he doesn't suspect widespread usage of steroids by young prospects, but one has to wonder given this report. (See my previous post on buscones and drugs here.)

It's certainly alarming.

Minor Leaguers Testing Positive

On a related note, five minor leaguers recently tested positive for steroid use. All were suspended 50 games. All were Latino.

This is very disappointing. The rate of steroid use has declined sharply in baseball--especially in the minor leagues where testing has been in place since 2001. In my six years of playing, I in fact knew of very few players using PEDs. (See my previous Sporting News post on HGH here.) Not a large percentage of minor leaguers are testing positive, but it seems too high of a percentage are Latino. (Read this excellent article on steroids and Latino peloteros.)

In talking to Latinos, it seems sometimes they're just getting bad information. An uncle or friend they trust will tell them they can take such and such product and not test positive. And it seems steroids are very easy to get in most of their home countries.

I'm not sure there's an easy solution to this problem. Testing involves numerous countries, and it involves kids of a very young age. But it is a problem, and steps need to be taken. Perhaps increased testing combined with greater education would help. Maybe a more informed body of players--combined with a fear of testing positive--would reduce the usage.

Hopefully rates will go down, but in the near future expect more positive tests from Latino ballplayers.


Note: I'm not just picking on Latino ballplayers. There are obviously still Americans using as well, though perhaps not in as high of a percentage. In certain levels of baseball in the U.S., such as at the junior college level, more testing is still needed. We need to keep cleaning this game up.

Trading Advisory: Time to make the draft more interesting

Things that can be traded/swapped:

Baseball Cards
Rare Coins
Candy (think Halloween when you got all that candy corn that you hated and had to trade it to the weird kid that loved it)
Spit (sorry, I had to)
Favors
Animal Furs
Carbon Allotments
Sea Shells
Wives (see "Wife Swap")
Jewelry
Humans
Almost anything else in this world

Things that can't be traded:

MLB Rule 4 Draft Picks


The reason usually given for this is that the draft is built to enable the weakest teams to rebuild. Give weak teams top picks, and they'll reload with top talent.

Yet in past drafts signability issues inhibited some teams from acquiring the best available talent at their slotted pick (see Ricky Porcello, J.D. Drew, Buster Posey, etc, etc. etc.). Cash-strapped teams instead picked slightly less talented kids deemed more signable.

Instead of harming low budget teams, the ability to trade picks might actually benefit them. They could trade down slightly, still get the caliber of player they would've otherwise have drafted, and also receive some sort of compensation in return.

For example, let's say Pittsburgh has the first pick in the 2011 draft, and suddenly Superman decides to play baseball. Yet Superman is demanding a $30 million signing bonus--otherwise he'll just continue to wear his ugly, too-snug blue suit, and continue to hit criminals instead of homeruns. Well, Pittsburgh can't afford this bonus. In the current system, they might simply skip Superman and instead take Johnny HS Shortstop, who will sign for 1/10th of Superman's asking price. Superman will fall in the draft to a team that can afford his asking price.

With the ability to trade picks, Superman will still fall to a team that has more money. But in order to obtain him, they will have to trade up in the draft. Pittsburgh will be able to negotiate with other teams and take the best offer. They might still end up with Johnny HS Shortstop, but they'll also be compensated one or more already established prospects.

This is a more free-market system, and so some will fear its usage. It allows for less control, but I believe it would work very well.

The trading of picks would also make the draft much more interesting, and the draft needs a serious shot of RedBull right now (as does Bud Selig). More options and more possibilities equates with more speculation. The draft becomes a chess match, and drama ensues.

There's been some talk of doing this very thing. (Darren Heitner's piece, and comments from Michael Weiner of the MLBPA.) In fact it will probably be discussed in the negotiations for the next CBA, along with another suggestion: a strict slotting system.

I understand the merits of a slotting system, and in the past I have brought up the idea of using it, but only if the savings were then distributed to minor league players. Any money taken away from draftees should be shifted to the pockets of starving minor leaguers.

The likelihood of this re-distribution is low though. Instead, the savings would not be passed on to minor leaguers, but would instead go to the overall budget of teams. Minor leaguers would remain poor (see my Baseball America piece on minor league salaries here.)

Lost in all of this is the fact that the MLBPA will be negotiating with owners on this and a host of other issues. Many decisions will have a direct influence on minor league players, and these players will have not a single sole representing their interests. Instead they'll just get swept to the side like Friday night garbage, gladly accepting the shillings that they're given, worrying not about collective bargaining agreements, but instead about curveballs and lifelong quests.

New Suitcase Chronicles entry

Excerpt from my latest "Suitcase Chronicles" article, in which I reflect on the differences between college ball and pro ball: Hope you enjoy!

Emotion is often conditioned out of players in pro ball. Early in my career, I sprinted back to the dugout after my initial spring training pitching appearance. An older teammate started laughing.

"Oh, you run back to the dugout. That's cool," he said with sarcasm, the official language of minor league baseball.

"Yeah, it's called hustling," I replied.

"Save the hustling for when it actually matters. That right there is just eye-wash."

He then told me to watch some of the big leaguers pitch.

"They're all business," he said. "The only place they run is to the bar after the game."

Hope you enjoy!

http://www.baseballamerica.com/today/prospects/prospect-diary/2010/2610241.html

Baseball, Rainbows, and Pearl Jam

I usually don't like big arena concerts. Well, that's not completely true.

I'm not a big arena snob. I don't dislike them just because it's cool to dislike them. It's just that I usually prefer smaller venues. I'd rather see Blind Pilot with 20 other people than see an Eagles reunion with 20,000 other people. Maybe it's just that I'm socially claustrophobic. Or maybe I just like cheaper beer--not to mention cheaper admission tickets. Either way, I usually find the smaller concerts to resonate on a more personal level.

As is the case with most generalizations, there are always exceptions. Recently in fact I went to a large venue concert that was not only outstanding, but also resonated as clear as a perfect fifth.

The concert was Pearl Jam. The venue: Scottrade Center in St. Louis. It ranks among the best shows I've ever seen.

One of my favorite teenage bands, the gods of flannel and grunge packed the house. They played almost all their greatest hits, but this was not the reason for their excellence that night. Eddie Vedder, their irreplaceable frontman, was the reason for my captivation.

Vedder controlled an entire arena of souls that night. With each movement of his hand and each note of his voice, every limb of every body reacted. He was a true master of puppetry.

One moment in particular stood out. He neared the edge of the stage as the night neared its inevitable end. With a bottle of wine in one hand, he took a seat upon a speaker. He placed the wine on the floor beside him and lit a cigarette. The guitars and drums continued to play behind him as he took a long draw from the cig. He exhaled slowly. With the smoke swirling around him, he took a look around the entire stadium. His long hair became curtains as he glanced onward. He smiled. And continued to smile as the music played on. Another drag on the cigarette. Another look around, now with his legs crossed. Another smile.

He was a man on top of the world. In that moment, he was free of everything. Completely satisfied, the worries of the world disappeared for a fleeting instant. All the killings in Darfur, all the oil in the gulf, all the dirt on the walls of one's personal existence. For a moment they all ceased.

I don't know if Vedder is a happy man. He might wake up every morning angry, with an insatiable desire to torture baby bunnies. But I know in that moment I was looking at a man in a state of contentment. It was a beautiful thing.

I once dreamt of gaining that feeling from baseball. For six years I rode the rainbow it offered. I fiercely clung to its slickness, yearning for the ultimate gratification that it might one day deliver. Yet I never reached the end of this rainbow. The ride was as brief as a ride at an amusement park.

But there are other rainbows to be found. I'll spot one soon, and when I do, I'll start climbing again.

Review of "A Player to Be Named Later"

I guess I miss the locker room a little bit. Perhaps that's the reason I recently decided to view "A Player to Be Named Later." It's a documentary which profiles four minor league players over the 2001 season of the Indianapolis Indians, an affiliate of the Milwaukee Brewers.

Honestly, I found it only mildly entertaining.

Some might think I dislike the very genre of documentaries. In this world of 10 second soundbites, video games, and attention spans shorter than a subway stop, a lot of people have dismissed documentaries as dead as the AM radio.

Others might simply think that since I've seen the sausage being made, I don't find the making of it interesting.

But this is not the case. I tend to like documentaries--usually the rougher the better. If I'm watching a documentary on open heart surgery, for instance, I want to see some blood flying around. I don't want to just see someone talking about severing and sewing an aorta, I want to see it. I want the rawness that documentaries sometimes provide, and which Hollywood never provides.

So despite its tendency to lead to open heart surgery, the making of sausage is usually interesting.

"A Player to Be Named Later" does show some of baseball's inner workings (sausage making), but in focusing on Triple-A, the viewer finds mostly older guys whose careers are nearing an end. The youthful optimism--not to mention youthful energy--is gone for them. The result is a film starved action. It also has less drama than it should.

The movie does have its moments. My favorite character is Brad Tyler. He's an aging veteran of 32 years who has spent 11 seasons in the minors. He knows his career is nearing an end. Yet he still wishes to play. He's no longer a starry-eyed 22 year old bouncing around in the Midwest League, but in his mind and heart he believes he can still play, despite hitting only .248 the previous season. Baseball has been all he has known for his adult life. How can he turn his back on it now?

Tyler has a family though. They follow him around wherever he goes. He's quickly released by Indianapolis early in the season. He goes to Mexico for a couple of months. The family follows and together they live in a little shack. He is picked up by Cincinnati and is sent to Louisville. His family follows. At the end of the season he's even shipped to Double-A Chattanooga. This time it seems his family stays behind in Louisville.

It sounds like all this moving around and familial stress would make for a great story, and I believe it could've been. It's just that once Tyler is released by Indianapolis he's almost treated as a supporting character. We don't see enough of him. We're instead given snapshots of his year, such as when he misses his daughter's birthday because he was sent to Louisville. The storyline is never completely developed.

This is one of the weaknesses of the film as a whole. It focuses on four players, but I'm rarely drawn to any of them. Marco Scutaro makes for an interesting story, but I don't see enough of him either. We're just given bits and pieces of each player, and the result is a fractious picture.

The chosen men are well-spoken, but they aren't talkative enough. Many ballplayers are somewhat guarded when it comes to the media, and this proves true in this documentary. In order to make these things work, you need some people with personality. From the very beginning, all four of these men seem a little too tame.

As usual, the wives are slightly better. They're more open to discussing their feelings and the inner-working of the family. They even talk of allowing their husbands to "chase a dream," as if its a requirement in their life. Everything else should be put on hold.

The film does give the viewer inside access, which is no doubt a joy to many. Discussions with Brewers' personnel are given, providing the viewer a look at how ballplayers are seen and evaluated by clubs.

Since it has this inside access though, a tremendous amount of editing has no doubt been done. As part of the agreement to provide access, I would assume the Brewers reserved the right to edit (I know I would if I were the GM). The result is that yes, inside access is offered, but there's no conflict. Somehow we only hear one or two F-bombs in the entire movie. And we never see a disagreement between players or the coaching staff.

We're watching men with testosterone for Zeus' sake. Even in Triple-A there should be some conflict.

I've been saying for years that the real drama and action happens in A ball. Here the guys are younger. Far fewer have families, and so they carouse at the bars much more often. They pick up girls and get hammered. They bring girls back to their hotels. They have poker tournaments all night. They yell at each other more often. They have pre-game antics in the clubhouse. They do crazy stuff in the showers. They erupt after bad games. They interact with host families.

They're still growing up.

If someone could somehow capture that, then they would have something.

But that type of access would be hard to get. That's most likely the stuff for a work of fiction (see my review of "Sugar".

"A Player to Be Named Later" is a film to be seen by hardcore baseball fans. These fans will most likely find it somewhat satisfying, but in the end it will simply leave them yearning for more.