tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747236263452087289.post2762240412521377233..comments2024-01-09T05:19:39.331-05:00Comments on Ghostrunner on First: Hustle is a HustleDrewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07271534213351978408noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747236263452087289.post-61401590288517696652008-03-25T19:35:00.000-04:002008-03-25T19:35:00.000-04:00I keep a copy of that Nov. 2, 1992 SI in arms reac...I keep a copy of that Nov. 2, 1992 SI in arms reach of my computer.*<BR/><BR/>*True Story.<BR/><BR/>Ol' CAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747236263452087289.post-88042317967175434952008-03-25T19:12:00.000-04:002008-03-25T19:12:00.000-04:00eff reed.eff reed.The Reverendhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06522925304655026603noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-747236263452087289.post-8038461944508280422008-03-25T15:39:00.000-04:002008-03-25T15:39:00.000-04:00There's the cult of the underdog, then there's the...There's the cult of the underdog, then there's the cult of smug empiricism. Thanks, respectively, to your Pride of the Yankees and your Moneyballs, both are endemic to the contemporary rank-and-file fanbase — but which is worse? It's hard to say.<BR/><BR/>DiMaggio has a fake, hometown-scorer-facilitated 56-game hitting streak, the bulk of which he probably spent disrespecting women and insisting, under threat of summary dismissal, that clubhouse staff not make eye-contact with him. <BR/><BR/>What's my point, you ask? Shit is blurry, numbers are fallible, and the "soft attributes" of likability and a humble countenance have to be worth something in the context of a stats-obsessed sport in which, quite paradoxically, the difference between a H and an E lies in the slanted POV of some anonymous company man up in the press box. <BR/><BR/>Two summers down, you've sold me on Reed being an expendable commodity (this, even though that .319 average in a platoon arrangement looks awfully similar to what everyone is banking on from the boy named Shannon) but you can't begrudge anyone who'll miss him for no reason other than he was a chill-seeming dogg whose understated charisma got the better of his goatee. Like, I don't think Reed fever owed as much to the narratives of 'up from the muck' or 'like hell I can't' (or at least not as much as you suggest) as it did to the age-old trope of the role-player, the character actor, the capable if unremarkable jobber who has dutifully filled his role with staid competence and occasional heroism (cite: summer 2006 walkoffs vs Red Sox) on every classic championship team in the culture's collective memory. The Babe and Lou had Joe Dugen; Alomar and Devo had Pat borders. There's a reason Tomboy chicks who wore Killington hats with ponytails out the back had crushes on him, even though he's kind of nasty. <BR/><BR/>Is the default affection afforded to "the ballplayer's ballplayer" any less gross than the RUDY fetish? I'm saying it's a little better. <BR/><BR/>On the real, though, the team has to keep cost/benefit on the front burner, and by any objective standard they did the right thing here. But like Jules said to Vince, "I wouldn't go so far as to call a dogg filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dogg's got personality. Personality goes a long way."LaForgehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09243860648485043841noreply@blogger.com