Now is the autumn of our discontent … at least for us Los Angeles baseball fans. Last night the Dodgers were polished off by the ruthless Phillies, their forever-teetering staff of pitchers finally crumbling in the face of Ryan Howard and that goddamned Victorino. Tonight the Angels may suffer the same fate – and even if they survive long enough to fly back east for the weekend, the Yankees will have their $161 million man waiting.
Which $161 million man? Now, there’s a question that could only refer to the Yankees. The one I’m talking about is CC Sabathia, the team’s most recent nine-figure pitching purchase, who has already shut the Angels down twice in this ALCS. But I could also be talking about first baseman Mark Teixeira, whom the Yankees plucked off the Angels’ roster last offseason for $180 million and who has repeatedly robbed his former teammates in the field this week (though his offensive numbers are pathetic). Of course, I might otherwise be talking about Derek Jeter, who’s nearing the end of his own $189 million contract. And as for Alex Rodriguez … well, he’ll earn $161 million in about the time it takes me to finish this column.
At least A-Rod is earning his salary (for once) this postseason. Still, like most baseball fans who don’t root for the Yankees, I have a hard time watching the Bombers without becoming queasy from the tsunami of dollar signs. In fact, Sabathia, Teixeira and A-Rod have ceased to function for me as human beings; their uniform numbers may as well be replaced with contract numbers – 161, 180, and 275, respectively. (Jeter gets a pass, since he came up through the farm system back in the ’90s, but the mind reels at the thought of the Yankees’ other free-agent acquisitions this decade – including tonight’s starting pitcher, number 82, otherwise known as A.J. Burnett.) If you add up the number of dollars the Steinbrenners have committed to their Big Three free agents through the end of Sabathia’s contract in 2016 – a total of $616 million – you get a number larger than the expected cumulative payrolls of 18 of Major League Baseball’s 30 teams over that span, even accounting for inflation. (more…)
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You are, of course, forgiven if you hadn’t. Heck, Saturday night on Channel 4 here in L.A. – the city that’s hosting the final two rounds! – the WBC’s first semifinal game didn’t even rate a mention on the 11 p.m. news, shunted aside by extensive coverage of UCLA’s humiliating exit from the NCAA basketball tournament and quick glimpses at the Dodgers’ and Angels’ spring-training action. (Never mind that Angels fans might have wanted to know that the club’s newest high-priced acquisition, outfielder Bobby Abreu, dropped an easy first-inning fly ball that opened the door for Korea’s 10-2 rout of his Venezuela team.)
HATE: The timing. March is a problematic month in which to play games that mean something – not just because of weather (most of the nation is still inhospitable to outdoor activity, limiting the tournament to friendlier climates or … yeccchhhh! … domes), but because this is the time when ballplayers traditionally are shaking off the winter rust and recapturing their timing at the plate, not diving for an up-the-middle grounder with national pride at stake. MLB commissioner Bud Selig says the WBC is in March to stay, but it absolutely needs to move — either to a midsummer fortnight when MLB takes a break (as the NHL does for hockey’s World Cup and the Olympics), or, preferably, to November. Sure, in the latter case the tournament would still be limited to southern cities, but at least the players would be in shape, the eyes of the sporting world would still be on baseball … and, most important, the sport’s owners might not have such a cow over potential injuries (see below). 
Alex Rodriguez is hardly the most heartbreaking name that’s recently been scrawled into the steroid-cheat record books, but he’s certainly the most relevant. By the time they infamously appeared before a Congressional committee a few years back, 
You’re probably clued in by now to my lack of sympathy for A-Rod’s predicament. So, Alex, you felt pressure to live up to your $250 million, guaranteed contract? Boo frickin’ hoo! And you gave up the juice as soon as you found out about your positive test, right about the same time baseball finally cracked down on chemical enhancements? Where can we pin your medal? (It’s not as though he gave up cheating, anyway. Between his pathetic attempt to knock the ball out of Bronson Arroyo’s hand during the ’04 ALCS collapse, and his bush-league ploy of yelling “I got it!” while running the bases a couple years ago, to induce an error by Toronto’s third baseman, the man clearly has trouble stifling his instinct to get around the rules of fair play.)