This is my "prove it to me" face

There's an interesting article on Kotaku about the spring release of MLB 2K10, which amounts to your only option for a simulation-based baseball game on the Xbox 360 this year. Obviously, you can always go out and buy "The Bigs" but if you want a game that most closely resembles what you see on TV (especially in the post-Roid era) this is it.

For the record, last year was the first time in a decade that I opted for none of the above when springtime rolled around and I needed my baseball fix. If you need any explanation as to why, look no further than the review's first few sentences:

2K Sports' baseball franchise, maybe more than any other sports title, will have this year's title judged against and compared to last year's offering, and not for its good qualities.

It's hard to tell whether last year's MLB 2K9 - one of the worst-reviewed (and deservedly so) games ever for this class of sports simulation - raises or lowers consumer expectations for MLB 2K10. 2K9 suffered from glitches, clipping, bizarre baserunning and fielding AI, and, frankly, unacceptable graphics, especially in the player modeling.

Setting that aside, I was unimpressed with the buggy nature of the previous offering and decided that I wasn't going to waste any more money until I saw some signs of improvement.

It's become industry standard for sports titles to update rosters, add new stadiums and introduce a new control gimmick, regardless of the sport. Jump around to reviews of the Madden franchise and you'll likely see complaints that echo those thoughts.

At the core, however, I require the games to play and play well. Unfortunately, after signing the exclusive license, 2K went off the rails with its baseball offerings. Those shortcoming are well-documented here. And here. And here (which is my favorite, as I got to title a post, "Thanks for the bobblehead, a-holes).

By this early report, it looks like the franchise might be on the mend - but I still find it appalling that the reason they claim last year was such a failure was a nine-month production timeline. While I can appreciate that the team is apparently taking responsibility for such a failure, that doesn't do much to restore their credibility until they start to produce a worthwhile product again.

More than that, where's the pressure from MLB to get this right or to step aside for someone who can produce? They have essentially handed their exclusive license over to a company that not only shoots themselves in the foot, but also edges baseball out of a market that is already dominated by the Maddens and FIFAs of the world.

By my count, it's been 2 or 3 years since I've seen a respectable game for the 360 and I'm out of patience. I can only imagine how upset the league must be at this point.

(Image from: 2kSports.com)

The Hawk landed... we get it

Anyone surfing through MLB.com today learned two things.

First, Andre Dawson was elected to the Hall of Fame with 77.9 percent of the votes and second, MLB.com's writers and editors are really married to that "Hawk has landed" headline. So much so, they went back to the well for the embedded video.

I can only imagine how the Chicago media will handle it tonight at 10 p.m. I'm sure it will be reserved and pun-free.

Two things stick out in my mind regarding Dawson and his career with the Cubs. I now know the back story of the blank contract gamble - one of the ballsiest moves he could have made that offseason and a story that lives on as example of how players of yesterday were somehow playing for the game. Honestly, I think the truth lies somewhere between "players are just looking for the cash grab" and "players before 1990 would have played for free, they just loved baseball that much."

It's a bit strange to look back now and see this as one of the last times that I was totally unaware of the politics and economics of professional sports. I knew that Keith Moreland was no longer the starting right fielder, knew that Dawson was really, really good, but still had no real idea of what had just happened.

While that's pretty insignificant in the bigger picture of Dawson's career and election to the hall, it's a major piece of this puzzle for me. This is where I oversimplify in the name of nostalgia and sepia-hued memories of summers past.

It was only a few years after the Dawson deal that I started getting an expanded world view, saw Greg Maddux leave for contractual reasons (a landmark, "Wait, what???" moment in my young life) and started to quietly resent any front office of my chosen teams unless they had delivered a championship in the past 365 days.

I love picking apart deals, debating how much of a role Mark Teixeiras' wife had in landing him in the Bronx and playfully picking fights with Frank over what role a Kenny Williams man-crush has in his judgement from year to year.

On the other hand, there's quite a bit to be said for being ignorant to the process and just watching new players appear in the field on Opening Day. I imagine this is much like enjoying sausage because you never have to see it made.

Finally, I can't shake the image of Dawson at Ryne Sandberg's induction a few years ago, moving so gingerly because his knees have really given out on him. It was a little hard to watch, but incredibly powerful to see Sandberg recognize Dawson from the podium. Because of this, of course there is no video available to link here. I'll keep looking.

Instead, here's a transcript from the day:

Andre Dawson, the Hawk. No player in baseball history worked harder, suffered more or did it better than Andre Dawson. He's the best I've ever seen. Stand up Hawk. The Hawk. I watched him win MVP for a last place team in 1987 and it was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen in baseball. He did it the right way, the natural way and he did it in the field and on the bases and in every way, and I hope he will stand up here someday. We didn't get to a World Series together but we almost got there, Hawk. That's my regret, that we didn't get to a World Series for Cub fans. I was in the post season twice and I'm thankful for that. Twice we came close.

I'll be looking foward to the statues of both players popping up outside of Wrigley in the next year or two.

Under the fold on this story are the players who didn't make the cut this year. Bert Blyleven missed yet again, but by only five votes this time around. Keeping in mind that players need 75 percent of the vote or better, here were the players who gained a majority of the votes this time around:

Bert Blyleven - 74.2%
Roberto Alomar - 73.7%
Jack Morris - 52.3%
Barry Larkin - 51.6%

Bringing up the rear with 0% of the votes were Todd Zeile, Shane Reynolds, Ray Lankford and Mike Jackson (the former pitcher for the Phillies, Mariners, Giants, Reds, Indians, Astros, Twins and White Sox, not the deceased King of Pop. That would be weird.)

(Image from: CNNSI.com)

Where's the credit for Dom DiMaggio?

Dom DiMaggio just had a nice little eulogy spoken about him by Vin Scully in tonight's Dodger game, where I first heard that he had passed away today at the age of 92. However, even a broadcaster as masterful as Scully couldn't work around the big shadow in DiMaggio's life - his brother, Joe.

In a quirk of genetics, three of the nine DiMaggio's made the majors - Vince, Joe and Dom - and even today as obituaries start to populate across the web, most mention Joe straight away. To do so is to sell Dom short as has been happening for decades now. Some of the wrtie-ups I've read tonight raise the question of whether Dom would have made the Hall of Fame by now if he'd been allowed to play instead of joining the Navy during World War II, while others hint at the role that constant comparisons to Joe played in the voting process.

Dom was seemingly always underestimated for one reason or another. His 5-9 frame and glasses - gasp, glasses! - led to his nickname, "The Professor" and it was those glasses that led to his transition to the outfield. Anecdotally, he was moved out there from his spot at shortstop by a manager so he wouldn't break his glasses . DiMaggio took that move and made the most of it, developing a hybrid style as a hard-charging center fielder who would close in quickly and agressively on balls hit his way.

In doing so, he became one of the greatest defensive center fielders of the time.

Additionally, he maintained a solid batting average and gave Joe a run for his money with a hitting streak of his own. As Scully pointed out, it was Joe who ended his brother's hitting streak at 30-plus games. See, there's that whole "Joe" thing again.

I imagine it's on par with being Michael Jordan's brother - both an athletic and cultural icon - where no matter what you did as a player, you'd always seem to be lacking by comparison. Don't be mistaken, this is not an Ozzie and Jose Canseco situation, Dom held his own in the majors and was a key piece of the strong Red Sox teams of the 40s and 50s.

DiMaggio was central to one of the biggest losses in Red Sox history - though not in typical Sox fashion - when an injury in the 1946 World Series led to the deciding play in the series. From the Boston Globe's excellent write up:

Mr. DiMaggio’s skill as a hitter inadvertently helped create one of the darkest moments in Red Sox history, their defeat at the hands of the St. Louis Cardinals in the seventh and deciding game of the 1946 World Series. In the top of the eight inning, he doubled home two runs to tie the game at 3-3 — but pulled a hamstring on the way to second base.

Leon Culberson replaced him in center field. In the bottom of the eighth, with two outs, the Cardinals’ Enos Slaughter tried to score from first on a single. Culberson was slow to field the ball, then made a mediocre throw to shortstop Johnny Pesky, whose throw home was too little, too late. Slaughter was safe, giving the Cardinals the lead and, half an inning later, the championship.

“If they hadn’t taken DiMaggio out of the game,” Slaughter later said of his daring sprint, “I wouldn’t have tried it.”

His time with Boston is covered nicely in David Halberstam's The Teammates, a solid, short read about the relationship between DiMaggio, Bobby Doerr, Johnny Pesky and Ted Williams. His life after baseball is covered well in the obituaries today, which describe his business sense and suggest that he'd have been a success in whatever he chose to do.

I think I like DiMaggio so much because he's an interesting man for many reasons outside of his control. Some of my favorite players of all time - Mickey Mantle, Williams, Joe DiMaggio - have major personal flaws or quirks that made them ill-suited for any sort of life outside of baseball. I am drawn to their stories that are tinged with elements of sadness and personal defeat, but which helped them to excell with a highly specialized skill set. Dom doesn't really fit that mold.

The fact that he was squarely in shadows of two of the game's giants in Williams and his brother, yet still found a way to maintain his own identity, accept and embrace his talents and move along is nothing short of extraordinary. To be comfortable enough being Dom DiMaggio to be successful and not dragged down as some may have is really a tribute to DiMaggio the man.

He was able to walk away on his own terms, start a series of successful business ventures and live to 92 (seeing two Red Sox World Series victories in the process). I think I'm with Scully here, where there's no real need to wail and feel sorrow for DiMaggio's passing, as he'd led a full life on many levels.

So here's to you, Dom DiMaggio, so much more than Joe's brother and Ted's center fielder. You'll be missed.

(Image from: WBZ.com)

Oh, you think so, Doctor?

In updating my fantasy team tonight, I stumbled across this tidbit when trying to figure out what happened to Hing-Chih Kuo of the Dodgers:

Kuo finally admitted there was something wrong with his elbow after he threw two pitches over the bullpen gate and onto the field while trying to warm up to enter Friday night's game against San Diego.

Yeah, I'd say that might be cause for concern. I'd also love to see a tape of that game.

Show that man "The Crazy"

It seems that Lin Brehmer is getting his way so far this year.

Now I'm wondering if the term "out of left field" really comes from the Cubs' past. The geography certainly lines up right.

(And I know the Rube Waddell story is accepted as fact, even if it seems a little hard to believe at times.)

What does MLB have to lose by lifting blackout restrictions?

Like most baseball fans, I am not independently wealthy. This means that I am forced to spend large chunks of my time on this earth working to pay for all sorts of things like food, shelter and Xbox games.

Why must I do this without live baseball being streamed directly to my laptop?

As I understand it, the big reason behind blackouts is to push fans to the games (The Bill Wirtz Theory of Fan Aliention), to punish a fan base for failing to get off their lazy asses and buy tickets (we're looking at you, Minnesota Vikings fans) and to drive fans crazy by denying them a few moments of peace by watching an inning or two of the home team while they eat lunch at work.

There are certain instances - especially regarding technology - where policies that once made a lot of sense are suddenly made less sensible. This seems to be one of those cases.

While the easiest solution would be to find a fan in a town you have zero interest in (like Toronto) and swap logins with them, I question why the league hasn't lifted blackouts on the web. I can watch both Cubs and White Sox games (home and away) at home, but I'm guessing that hauling in a TV to my desk might raise a few eyebrows.

No one in their right mind is going to opt for a streamed ballgame above high def or going to a game in person. This is pretty much a last, best option for those of us stuck at work during day games or forced to stay late from time to time.

When I don't see the local teams on the MLB Extra Innings package, it makes sense - the games are on local TV anyways. When I can't see them on a web broadcast, it just makes me think MLB doesn't want to be my friend anymore.

Does anyone have an explaination for these odd blackout rules?

Oh, Canada... How could you?

I know that baseball probably isn't much of a draw in Canada, but there have to be a few fans scattered throughout the country, right?

I bring this up because the following appears in the line items for MLB.com's online streaming package:

All live Toronto Blue Jays games are blacked out throughout the entire country of Canada.

Ouch. Sucks to be a fan of the Jays.

Play Ball

In observance of Opening Day for the Cubs and Sox, the Tribune posted a photo album of famous first pitchers through the years.

(They missed my favorite honoree, Chewbacca because that was at Fenway. Also, I never knew Chewy was a lefty.)

The album raises a few questions for fans with a discerning eye and a secret hope that they may some day be asked to throw out a first pitch for being the best lawn and garden salesman at Sears or the bestest blogger ever.

Like, mitt or no mitt? You won't need to catch a damn thing, so why bring the leather? Jersey open or closed? For that matter, should you have your own name on the jersey? Because Michael Jordan wore a Sammy Sosa jersey when he took the mound at Wrigley.

I think the balance falls between looking like you're trying too hard and looking like you really don't care in case you suck. I think the open jersey look says, "I'm here to do this, but I'm a celebrity, so I'm far too cool and busy to practice tossing a ball beforehand."

On the other side of the fence is the desire to really suit up - some in their astronaut suits - before they take the field. I'm not sure how far people can push the envelope in this regard, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't lose a little respect for Will Ferrell when he opted out on the baseball pants and spikes combo.

That's an outfit to give Chewbacca a run for his money.

(Image from: The Boston Globe)