Yeah, I picked UCLA. I thought I was being clever. Sue me.
That said, it's time to move on. Basketball is not my focus.
This column is about baseball. Those who don't like baseball (you know who you are, and your sin is unforgivable) may go away now.
This week's issue of Sports Illustrated is the magazine's annual baseball preview edition. Inside, amidst the traditional complaints about SI's swimsuit issue and an array of pictures taking from the top of Toronto's SkyDome, is an article by SI staff writer Steve Wulf called "A Blueprint for Baseball."
Wulf's name may sound familiar. He's certainly gone down into baseball lore -- or a special circle of baseball hell, depending on how you look at it -- as one of the founding members of the first Rotisserie Baseball League.
The bastard.
But putting aside the fact that he's in the Addiction Hall of Fame up near the guy who invented crack, Wulf's article is one sharp piece of work. In it, he outlines a nine-point plan to revitalize the game of baseball.
The idyllic image we have of baseball is one involving sunny skies, a gentle breeze, and a grassy diamond. That's the image that most baseball fans fall in love with. But as Wulf is quick to point out, the true image of baseball these days is more like this:
Nighttime in the city. Dodging full beers thrown by drunken boors, your ears are assailed by the profane cries of Cub fans (they're everywhere, even in the American League). The Cub fans' cries so loud that you and your five-year-old can make out what they're saying over the Metallica that's being blared over the PA system.
Then the team takes the field. The nine multi-millionaires slowly trudge across the plastic grass to their positions. There's a DH in the dugout. Your team's playing a team from the other division, which is nothing new -- since they expanded the league to 14 teams, a team plays more games outside the division than in it.
You're hit on the head by a flying beer. Your five-year-old moans, but you can't hear her. You feel the light slipping away. Enter sandman.
You'll wake up in three hours. Chances are good you won't miss the seventh-inning stretch.
This is the reality of baseball today. And Wulf's solutions to the problem are incredibly reasonable. First and foremost, Wulf advocates interleague play.
Sacrilege! This, from a guy who thinks the DH is evil because it's such an inherent break with tradition?
Well, no. This, from a guy who thinks the DH is evil because there should be nine players on a side in baseball, not ten. (What's next, four strikes or bases or outs?)
The magic of the world series as the only time when teams from the AL and NL meet in official play is a crock. Is the Super Bowl, the biggest sporting event ever, hurt by the fact that the two teams may have played against each other during the regular season? Is a Bulls/Warriors NBA final hurt by the fact that they've faced each other a couple of times during the season? No way.
And the argument for interleague play grows even more in stature in 1993, because of one thing: expansion. With the NL increasing by two teams, the league will have to move to the AL method of scheduling. In other words, the Giants and Dodgers will each play more games with the Phillies than with each other. Ridiculous.
Wulf's solution is brilliant. A team would play 156 games a season, with 12 games against every team in its own division, 6 against teams in the other division, and 3 against every team in the other league (host team for the interleague series would alternate every year). No doubt attendance would rise during the interleague games -- especially for local contests such as a Giants/A's, Angels/Dodgers, or Yankees/Mets series. The home team's league would determine if the accursed DH rule was in effect.
Wulf also suggests that owners should be forced to schedule at least 20 day games each year, in order to make the game more accessible to youngsters. In addition, two world series games should be played during the day, since night games end at ridiculously late hours.
The removal of all artificial turf in outside stadiums would be a must, as well. And since the World Cup soccer matches will use real grass in the Pontiac Silverdome, maybe some botanist can make dome grass a reality -- at least in the two Canadian retractable-roof stadiums.
Turf doesn't kill careers. People kill careers. And the people who conceived of the Astrodome and its demonic sidekick Astroturf have killed bunches of careers over the years. The stuff is essentially fuzzy concrete. It's dangerous, and it changes the game.
However, all of this is not to say that Wulf is a genius. Obviously, since he helped create Rotisserie Baseball, he's an evil man. Some of his other suggestions for baseball change are also either dumb or inconsequential.
He complains about games lasting too long, and begs for the enforcement of the supposed 20-second time limit between pitches. Sounds good, but the length of games isn't a major issue in my book. After all, baseball is a restful sport. If you can stand watching a baseball game at all, you can stand it being slow. I might like to see the pace picked up a little, but it's not of prime concern.
There's more, and it's dumber: Wulf wants an all-star awards night on TV for the winners of postseason awards like league most valuable player and rookie of the year. Sure. People want to watch a bunch of baseball players dressed up at some awards ceremony in November or December.
We've got enough awards shows, thanks. Considering how interminable the Academy Awards are every year, a baseball awards show would probably be as slow as erosion. If we get any more awards shows, TV may fulfill its goal of having at least one awards show on the air at all times.
Finally, Wulf nominates New York Governor Mario Cuomo to take over for Fay Vincent as baseball commissioner.
Can you believe it? A guy who is lampooned on Saturday Night Live as a character who repeats, "I have mob ties," in the same office as the man who banished Joe Jackson for eternity because of gambling? Cuomo would probably never make up his mind on accepting the position.
I'd sooner see Commissioner Clinton, or Commissioner Steinbrenner.
Well, maybe not. Do you think Paul Tsongas is still available?