How ARod Cheated Us All By Apologizing

Why Alex? Why?

Alex Rodriguez apologized to the New York Yankees. He apologized to Randy Levine for calling him the devil. He apologized to Joe Girardi being a distraction to the team, and he aplogized to the ghost of George Steinbrenner for sullying the Yankee name. ARod did all this while robbing all of us fans of one of the greatest commodities in all sports: a true sports villain.

The narrative of sports villainry is as old as sport itself. We are wired as humans to think in terms of us versus them. Its just the way we are. But in modern times we have satisfied this survival mechanism with our illogical love and devotion to sport and our teams. Take the scene around an Oakland Raiders game for example. That team rewrote the book on how to be bad the last few years, and yet fans still show up faithfully every Sunday in get-ups that seemingly belong onstage with GWAR. If you take a step back it doesn't look all that different from Braveheart, a fictional telling of a maybe real struggle for independence (us vs. them).

That's not the only place where we see the villain narrative in sports. It also appears the niche sports entertainment industry known as pro wrestling. Typically those narratives are pretty clear cut. You always know who the good guys and bad guys are, but in the "non-scripted" areas of sports entertainment the villain narrative can be a little blurred.

I think it was Bill Simmons who put forth the idea that this past Super Bowl was kind of unique in that most of America hated both teams. While I know why lots of people hate the Patriots (success breeds contempt), but for the Seahawks I can only figure its got something to do with how successful they are and how confident they are about it. Still it was two teams wearing the "sports villain" identity and America ate it up. Once again the Super Bowl was the most watched TV event in history (consistent with previous years trends, but still impressive). So maybe we like our villains a little more than we all want to admit.

Therein lies why I am so disappointed that Alex Rodriguez has tried to make amends with the Yankees. If ARod was really sorry for his perceived misdeeds he would have made nice along ago. Instead, like a modern day villain he tried to sue people for no reason. Once he exhausted all avenues (perhaps maybe even a vision quest) then he sat out for his time and now he wants to make nice. All he did by going that route was to neuter himself in the eyes of the Yankees and all of baseball.

I mean really, why should he even apologize now? After Brian Cashman called him fat and signed another thirdbaseman? After the Yankees tried to void has contract and don't want to pay his contractually negotiated milestone bonuses? After Jeter stopped returning his phone calls? (I'm assuming)

No, what ARod needed to do was to go full villain all over this thing. I have no doubt he has been busting his ass this off season to get ready to play baseball. Whatever the PED thing meant, ARod was always a physical specimen and he always worked. No one succeeds in baseball without it.

He should have put the target directly on the Yankees back. Alex knows that the Yankees are a collection of overpaid, aging vets who most people have already written off. He should have come out and said something like "I'm going put this team on my back and carry them back to October" and maybe just to jab them a little extra "I'll do what Jeter couldn't do last year". That would get all of our attention. If the "Hate Scale" on Arod is at like an 8 now, we'd be in uncharted territory after something like that. Like 25 out of 10 or something.

Alex should have come out with some more things like "Chase Headley is a great addition. We need some one to make up a little of Robinson Cano's production at second". Then maybe drop a "Maybe Cash and Joe don't want me to play, but its gonna be awfully tough when I'm hitting .350 in June as a part-time DH on a team 4 games under .500".

Then for good measure he should take Didi Gregorius under his wing. Let him know that "Everyone, the Yankees, the fans they all want you to fail. Except me. I got your back". Slowly but surely, ARod would be able to spread his evil entourage swaying one young player after another until he has gained control of the Yankees locker room.

At that point he could dare Cashman, Levine and Steinbenner to cut him. To send him home due the rest of that $60 mil to collect filling his time as he sees fit. Except that they won't be able to, because ARod will be the only thing separating the Yankees from the playoffs and a third straight year without any October baseball.

Oh how the baseball world would seethe. I would love to see Ken Rosenthal's bow-tie spin every time he got heated talking about ARod's resurgence. Or Dan Shaughnessy's finger wagging at the evil Alex Rodriguez. What about chattering heads on PTI or Around The Horn belly aching about how ARod is disgracing the game while mows through the record books?

And he could have had all that if he hits. If he doesn't hit, well then whats it matter? The Yankees are going to cut him anyway. If he's hitting .200 in June the Yankees will DFA him and he'll be at home collecting his checks anyway. No amount of apologies, public floggings or trips to Oprah's coach will change that. If he doesn't hit he's done.

In other words, Alex Rodriguez has got nothing to lose.

I want so badly to route for ARod to turn the baseball world on it head and deep down so do many of you. You just can't admit it yet. Unfortunately, we probably won't get it because ARod is going to walk into the Yankee clubhouse in February tail between his legs and take his beating. Not a fitting ending for one of the greatest sports villains of our time.

The ARod Files - Chapter 2

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

1:30 PM

His personal cell phone never rang for anyone other than family. The number just wasn't out there, and Bud had always been responsive to communication through his MLB issued mobile. But the random calls had started coming in a few days earlier, usually 2 or 3 times a day.

It seemed to Bud that the numbers were always different, but the area code was the same, 813. Tampa Bay. He knew it from the Steinbrenner days, back when you actually had to dial a phone and not just scroll through and find a name. It was almost nostalgic in a way when Bud thought back to his nearly biweekly calls to the Yankees' Tampa Bay offices during his time as Interim-Commissioner. The calls were so frequent that Bud felt like George was just messing with him, which he probably was.

At first Bud thought it was a wrong number, but the calls just persisted. Deep down he knew picking up that call was probably a bad idea. What if it some young reporter who didn't know the rules trying to cut in line? Or worse, some crazy blogger looking to make hell. Eventually though, the curiosity was too much. Damn the consequences, Bud wanted to know who was on the other end of that phone...

"Hello?"

"Beaver" the voice on the other end said quickly, "Its Alligator."

"What?" Bud couldn't have heard that correctly.

Again "Beaver, its Alligator."

"I-I-I'm sorry" Bud had no time for whatever this was "but you have the wrong number."

As Bud pulled the phone away from his ear he could hear the voice on the other end "NO, NO, NO! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!!!"

Bud put the phone back up to his ear "Yes?"

The voice on the other end whispered "Bud, Its me. Uhhh, Shmalex Shrod-shriguez"

"Alex!?" Selig blurted into the phone.

"Yes, SHHHH!!" the voice shot back "Last time I saw you, you said they were listening. I was using code names"

"Alex-"

"Call me Alligator" ARod interrupted.

"Alex," Selig reaffirmed "I never said anyone was listening. You said they were listening. I didn't say anything."

"Right Bud, its what you didn't say. Its better to act like we don't know any way. We don't want to blow our cover."

"What cover Alex?" There was irritation in Selig's tone.

"Perfect Bud. Like there's nothing is going on" The pause was timed so perfectly that Selig could just imagine ARod winking into the phone. "Listen, I followed the clue you gave me. And I kinda feel like I'm at a dead end here."

"Alex, I'm really not following you-"

"Bud, you told me go to Tampa and see what the Yankees wanted me to do. So I came down here and went to the headquarters. Man, its almost as if they knew I was coming. Soon as I got up on the sidewalk in front of the player's door Skip was out there with Cash, Randy, & Hal right behind him. Once I finished hugging it out with every last one of them Randy started in with something about 'How I shouldn't be here' & 'The lawyers on each side had made that very clear'. Skip just said that it wasn't anything personal, but that I had to go."

Selig tension loosed a bit.

ARod went on "Then I told them that you had sent me down here and-"

Now it was Selig's turn to interrupt "Alex. Wait a minute. I just said that-"

"Bud, don't worry I didn't blow our cover." Interrupting was kind of ARod's thing "I told them exactly what you told me to say. I just asked them want they wanted me to do. That's when Hal laid the clue on me. He told me to 'Just get lost'. He didn't have to be so rude about it, but I get it. He's trying to impress Randy, Skip, & Cash. You know, that whole Boss's son thing."

Selig sat back in shock. It was all he could do to keep the phone in his hand. 'What on Earth is going throw his head right now' he thought to himself.

ARod went on "So that's what I've been doing down here. I've just been wandering around Tampa for the last week or so. I don't know, I kinda lost track of the days. I think I read something about this once. Native Americans would go on long trips in the woods to test their man hood and stuff. What's it called... a...vision quest!. That's it!! Its like a vision quest, right Bud? You need me to wander around the woods of Tampa to find myself?. Right?"

After a moment lost, somewhere, Selig snapped back. This conversation was really happening. "Alex, where are you right now?"

"I'm at  one of those phones on a pole. You know, the kind you put a quarter into and make a call. Its like a cell phone except it doesn't fit in my pocket and it doesn't have any of my numbers anywhere. I think they're new. I don't get it, but they are good for making calls that can't be traced. At least that's what this dude Andre told me. Andre says he hangs out these pole phones a lot. He says its a good way to meet people, but he's the only person I've met at any of these phones. Anyway, I left the hotel last night around 8:00 and have been wandering ever since."

Mr. Selig, the MLB brand steward kicked in "Alex, this is very important. Have a lot of people seen you wandering around?"

"Oh yeah" Alex answered "Tons of people"

Selig sunk, deflated into his chair. His right hand dug deep into the creases in his brow.

"They've been real nice mostly. A lot of them just wave and yell 'Hey ARod!' They are A LOT nicer down here than they are in New York. But its kinda hard to figure out who you are when everybody is always telling me who I am. Its like 'Who am I supposed to listen to'?"

Silence.

"Ohhh... Bud... I think I'm starting to get it. We can't go forward until I go forward. Man, I'd be so lost without you right now. You sent me on this vision quest and for that I cannot express enough thanks. You're like my North Star, just leading the way for me."

"Alex, I-"

"Don't worry Bud. I won't let you down. I didn't get to be the greatest player in Major League Baseball history by being a quitter. And I'm not going to quit on you. On this.

I'll complete this vision quest on we'll move on to the phase 2."

"Alex-"

"Alligator. Call me Alligator.

Alligator out."

The ARod Files - Chapter 3

Friday, February 28th, 2014

6:30 PM

A ceiling fan. That must be the difference between a hotel and a motel. A hotel has air-conditioning. A motel has a ceiling fan, but a vision quest takes you some strange places.

Staring up at the fan as it spins and spins pushing the same thick Tampa air around and around I can imagine what it must have been like at the first spring training. No private rooms. No AC. No mini-fridges filled with Gatorade. Just baseball. What I wouldn't give for 'Just Baseball'.

I had been wondering for too long. I knew I had to get off the street. The thin line of reality had long since blurred unrecognizable. So I walked into the first place I saw that offered rooms by the hour.

Who even needs a room for an hour or two? Other visionquesters I imagine. Though I can't really tell. 

I only planned to be here for a night at most, but when I handed the man behind the counter the money he told me I could stay as long as I wanted. The days continued to blend into one another. Each time the room went dark I put a scratch on the wall to mark another day passed. It was my own self imposed prison.

At one point I did step out on the walkway to see if I could tell what time it was. While I was out there a man approached me with a video camera. I assumed he wanted a picture, but he asked me if I wanted to make a hundred dollars. I'm so detached right I'm not even sure what my answer was. Its impossible to tell if he ever even gave me that hundred dollars.

And now, as that familiar orange hue flooded room I knew it was time for the next scrawl. Without a pen, I've been keeping track of the days with a table knife I had picked up during my time on the street. Andre had turned on me and I needed to be able to protect myself.

Ten days on the streets of Tampa had changed me. It was time to take stock of how.

At first I tried to stay away from the Yankees, but the temptation was too great. Baseball was all I knew. Security kept me from entering the facilities through the player's entrance, but they had a clue for me. Bud must have contacted them. The security guard told me that if I wanted to enter the facility I could buy a ticket.

For the next game I bought out the entire Walgreens Deck in right field. From there with a pair of binoculars I was able to read the catchers signs and relay them to my teammates. Right arm up for fast ball. Left arm for offspeed. Some might say that using binoculars to read signs from the outfield is "stealing" or "cheating". But I'm a team first guy. And whatever I can do to help my team win is what I do. 

Unfortunately, the Yankees didn't see it that way. Not this time. By the second inning, Skip was pointing at me from the top step of the dugout and security on me within a minute. Something about how I had to go because I was causing a disruption. I tired to explain that I was just being a good teammate, but they weren't having it.

I left after that. And back on to the streets of Tampa. As I wandered the hours turned into days. The days started to blend into one another. There was only light and dark, light and dark. Gradually my body came in tune with nature, but even this new stage of enlightenment took its tole. I found myself in a lonely place.

Baseball had needed me for so long, but now its like the game didn't even know me. Now I was starting to wonder if I even wanted baseball anymore. From my new plain of understanding I can see all the pieces moving and the ring of baseball had closed with me on the outside. I could continue to fight my way in, but to do so may upset the universe in ways which no one is fully prepared. 

Baseball is over for now. Its time to find find a new purpose. That's why Bud sent me here. But what is that purpose?

Its dark now, but the humidity hasn't broken. The bed is soaked, the pillow's soaked. Its time. I don't know what to do, but I can't stay here. Its time to move. I've got nothing left in Tampa and Tampa's got nothing left for me.