Scott and
Craig, Friends at Last
by Scott Glab, Baseball Evolution
October 24, 2005
Finally, I
am at peace with Craig Biggio.
After years
of stubbornly rating him way (Way!) too low on my top 100 list, I can finally
put him firmly ahead of Sandberg and Alomar
where--statistically—he rightfully belongs.
Why?
Oct 2003 ---
Steve Bertman interferes with a fly ball. A Cubs team
too wrapped up in itself and the history that has been thrust upon them
implodes afterwards.
Justice, or
at least just desserts.
Oct. 2004 ---
The Red Sox after, decades of constipated defeats at the hands of the Yankees,
have a miraculous, loose comeback against them from a 3-0 deficit.
Justice, or
at least just desserts.
Oct. 2005
--- An Astros team led by Mr. Astro Craig Biggio loses a heartbreaking game to the White Sox because
of an absolutely horrendous HBP call.
Mr. Biggio, you're armor-filled karma has been equalized.
If you're a
mystic like me and believe in baseball magic, I really thought that if the
Astros had pulled this one out despite the career-equalizing HBP call on Dye
(like they almost did), they were going to win the series in 5 or 6. But unfortunately for the fans of Houston,
despite a redemption at bat by Bagwell (OK, he didn't lean into the ball in
game 1, but he didn't try to dodge it either--and NO, that little shimmy was
not a dodge
move) and money hitting by Jose Vizcaino and base running
by CB, the 'Stros couldn't reverse the karma set in
motion 18 years ago when Mr. Astro decided to perfect
the art of grazed bodies and body armor.
Game 2 was
probably lost back in September, when Biggio
vehemently argued against a near-HBP that was called a ball by an umpire who
actually had the guts to call out his act. (Was it Wendelstedt?)
Now if only
umps would start enforcing the rule that players need to keep both feet in the
batter's box when they hit.
Anyway, it
all comes back to Biggio. I forgive him now. What a shitty way to have all that bad HBP
karma fly back in his team's face. While
I feel it it likely that over half of his HBP's were legit, that still leaves well over 100 that were
pussy. But one super-shitty call in the
WS cancels out all his pussy bases in my peculiarly warped mind, and I can now appreciate
the man and his accomplishments fully--simply because I know that if someone
told him that he could have nixed that call by not trying to get on base in
unsporting ways over the course of his career, he'd do it in a heartbeat. An 18-year heartbeat.
It's funny,
I didn't realize how much of my Houston hatred revolved around that issue until
now. But look, I've set it free! So gig 'em 'Stros . . . let's go Sox . . . whatever. I'm rooting for good baseball . . .
. . . and the Sox, because they're closer.
Sorry to
anger you Texans,
---Scott Glab,
fan of the
most pathetic team in all professional sports, the Chicago Cubs.