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.




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.