State of the Union, Signs of the Times
July 11, 2002
by Joe Sobran
As your president, in the event that my chain-letter
campaign for the office succeeds, it will be my
constitutional duty "from time to time [to] give to the
Congress Information of the State of the Union." This
information will include full reports on the health of
the national pastime, and will specifically feature
frequent updates on the progress of the baseball career
of my grandson Joe.
If I were giving my state of the Union speech today,
for example, it would run more or less as follows.
My grandson Joseph Sobran, now 15, is no longer the
darling little gerbil who first scrambled onto a Little
League diamond seven years ago. He is now a strapping
170-pounder; last time I remember checking, he weighed
about 59 pounds. He recently hit a home run an estimated
390 feet and is perfecting an unpredictable and well-nigh
unhittable knuckleball.
The prospects for baseball in general, I regret to
report, are less encouraging. Though raw talent abounds
as never before, Major League Baseball seems determined
to rid itself of its remaining fans.
This last Tuesday night, the commissioner of Major
League Baseball outraged fans by stopping the annual All-
Star Game in the eleventh inning, causing it to end in a
frustrating 7-to-7 tie. He gave as his reason that both
teams had run out of pitchers -- as if this weren't one
of the possibilities a manager has to take into account
as he makes his decisions throughout the game. Either you
use your pitchers sparingly, or you risk having to put
your shortstop on the mound in the late innings.
The current season may also be interrupted by
another strike -- leaving another indelible scar on
baseball history. It's not as if we were in an age of
scarcity, with sweatshop owners and workers haggling over
the minimum wage. Players and management alike are
millionaires, indifferent to the unseemly way they are
redefining the very character of baseball, not to mention
their contempt for the fans.
Faster-moving sports -- football, basketball, even
soccer -- have long been overtaking baseball in
popularity. Baseball has coped by giving undue emphasis
to the offensive game, particularly the home run that
attracts and thrills the casual fan. This has meant
increasing the hitter's advantage over the pitcher by
allowing or encouraging umpires to shrink the strike zone
without the formality of a change in the rules. As a
result, the game is now becoming lawless.
The unnatural frequency of home runs, however
appealing to the casual fan who cares only for high
scores and spectacular displays of hitting power, has
devalued the subtler skills of pitching, fielding,
bunting, and base-running that fascinate the serious fan.
Witness the rise of that unspeakably vulgar contest, the
Home Run Derby, which, if present trends continue, will
replace nine-inning games altogether. Who needs subtlety?
The huge profits accruing to the home run have
spawned another evil: players are now using illegal and
dangerous drugs -- steroids -- to increase their size and
strength. By some estimates, half of all Major League
players, as well as many college and even high-school
players, are currently taking steroids. This puts all
other players under pressure to use steroids too, or risk
being literally dwarfed by the competition. The players
are already starting to look like freaks with bulging
arms and heads.
It also means that baseball's most venerable records
-- its statistics -- are being devalued too. New,
steroid-enhanced records are being set. Is this fair to
the great players of the past, who achieved their records
without chemical assistance? Should the new marks carry
asterisks, signifying that they were set in the steroid
era?
Finally, the body of the late Ted Williams has been
cryogenically frozen by order of his son, who has
hitherto been content to sell his father's autographs.
Relatives charge that the son plans to sell his father's
DNA, possibly with a view to future cloning.
This bizarre development is not the fault of Major
League Baseball, but it is nevertheless a disturbing sign
of the times. If modern science can find a way to fuse
Ted Williams's DNA with steroids, then a generation from
now, instead of baseball as we have known it, we may see
countless seven-foot, hypermuscular Ted Williamses
competing in endless Home Run Derbies.
A lot of good Joe Sobran's knuckleball will do him
then!
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