Listen up, Major League Baseball. I love you. I really do; and sometimes being in love means having to bring you back down to earth, to be horribly blunt and to shower you with lots of smack (the slang, not the drug, though sometimes the drug seems like a better option in extreme cases, like when you overflow my inbox with crap I don’t want and never asked for).
MLB, you are not the NFL. You are not the NBA. You are MLB.
So while I commend you for trying to drum up interest in something — the first year player draft — that is, on the surface, boring and otherwise three to four years removed (if that) from the current game, I must ask you to please snap out of it!
For the record, I do not care about the NFL and NBA drafts either, but I can certainly see why people do. If you are a basketball and/or football fan, you have seen the potential draftees come up through the highly competitive elite forces of the NCAA. Bowl games are slammed down your throat. March Madness is so mad that it doesn’t end until April. You know the players. You’ve seen their talents. You hope your pro team gets a shot at their services.
In contrast, the potential baseball draftees are as familiar to us fans as is a logical, amicable, non-infuriating Ann Coulter. In the NFL and NBA, if you get drafted, your chances of seeing playing time at the top are almost a given, while most of the guys drafted in the MLB draft will never put on a big league uniform. Sure, your Griffeys, A-Rods and Verlanders — guys who go in the first round or two — will most likely make it; but the majority of the rest will wallow away in the minor leagues, battle disillusionment, come to grips with not being good enough and before you know it they’re faxing TPS reports behind a desk while reading RSBS for giggles.
So as MLB pats itself on its self-aggrandizing back about televising this overblown shindig so they can sell lots of advertising to companies gullible enough to think that it will actually rival that of its football and basketball brethren, you can be sure that I will be spending my time wisely. Dear readers, I advise you to do the same; and just in case you can’t think of anything better to do, here are some suggestions:
- Remember, question and lament the hype of Pete Incaviglia
- Write hate-mail to Rush Limbaugh and sign it “Jesus”
- Clone Chris Carpenter
- Come up with clever gimmicks to sell your new religion start-up (worked for me!)
- Or, God forbid, watch an actual Major League Baseball game with real-life Major Leaguers
Indeed, that is but a short list of things I will be doing instead of watching your draft, MLB. I will not be listening to Harold Reynolds start every sentence with “Now, here’s a guy…” nor will I sing praises of your precious college phenom Stephen Strasburg when he is — as you already told me he would be — drafted in the first round. I’ll wait until he collects the league minimum $400K for that.
I know a poser when I see one and it is because I love you, MLB, that I have to call you one to your face. Go ahead and hate me ‘cuz I’m critical of your identity crisis, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.