The Chris Moeller Archives

The bosses

You may not have received the office memo yet, but Boss Day is a week from today, October 16th. Referenced alternately as Bosses Day, Boss's Day, Boss Day, or National Boss Day, this Hallmark holiday is one of the greatest frauds ever forced upon the American people. It's bad enough that our government did away with May Day, or what was traditionally known as "International Workers' Day," commemorating the execution of martyrs arrested in the Haymarket Riot in Chicago in 1886. They replaced it instead with the ever-popular "Loyalty Day" during the height of the Red Scare in 1958, and then tried to pass off Labor Day in its place, a completely innocuous celebration that today means more as the last day of summer vacation than as a day of any social significance. Revolution successfully averted.

I'll sign the cards at work, and I like my bosses fine, but I won't be chipping in for Boss Day gifts-- ever. I didn't get any gifts on Labor Day, and we all got the day off. Throughout the history of the United States, as precocious children ask their parents why there exists a Mothers' Day and a Fathers' Day, but no kids' day, the answer inveritably comes back, "Because every day is kid's day," and indubitably it's true. Every day in modern America is Bosses Day. Or Boss Day, or Boss's Day...

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Will Yankees manager Joe Torre have to buy a Boss's Day card this year? It remains to be seen. Club owner George Steinbrenner issued a seemingly uncontradictable ultimatum after the Yankees fell behind 0-2 to the Indians in their Division Series matchup-- win the series, or else, he proclaimed, and the New Yorkers fell in four. I've said before that Torre, the skipper behind four Yankees Championships between 1996 and 2000, lost any dignity he had on the entire employment matter long ago. He's allowed himself, and just as importantly, his coaches, to be pushed around by the Boss for a long enough time. Don Zimmer and Mel Stottlemyre are just a pair of a handful of coaches who have been scapegoated by the Yankee front office and uncerimoniously dumped after Steinbrenner's heavy spending and GM Brian Cashman's free agent splashes over a period of now seven years failed to deliver a world title.

This weekend, after a swarm of bugs caused untoward mayhem for only one of two teams on the diamond at Cleveland's Jacobs Field, Steinbrenner lashed out at retiring home plate umpire Bruce Froemming for failing to stop play during the bug-out. "He won't umpire our games anymore," Georgie proclaimed following the contest, but of course, oops, there was Bruce again moving to left field in the umpire rotation Sunday night, and then to right field for Game 4 on Monday. The 77-year-old Steinbrenner has lost so much gray matter in recent months that he's forgotten who he has the authority to fire and who he doesn't.

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I'm going without cable for a while so I was blacked out of the entire Division Series round of the playoffs except for the effort I expended to see the Cubs play on the tube Saturday night in what amounted to their final game of the season. Clearly, it's a stupid decision to move more games from broadcast to cable. It's your typically short-sided corporate decision that provides a fleeting financial boost, but causes long-term erosion in helping the product meet its largest size customer base. Soon, Major League Baseball will be headed down the primrose path, set forth by the NBA and NHL, to its own destruction. Fortunately, it's a superior product so it will never be completely destroyed.

The Division Series, as a concept, doesn't offer much historical significance so large audience be damned, I guess, but it's painful that the National League Championship Series is also banished to basic cable. Think of all of the magical moments that have taken place in the pennant clinching round of the post-season, from the Red Sox four-game comeback against the Yankees in 2004, to Adam Wainwright freezing Carlos Beltran with the bases loaded in the ninth inning of Game 7 last year, to Chris Chambliss, to Ozzie Smith, to Francisco Cabrera, to Steve Bartman. The one good thing about the move, though, is the fewer games broadcast by FOX. I don't care how much you love the game, no one can enjoy an entire month of games telecast with "FOX attitude." It's fucking exhausting. TBS, to its credit, has also been very respectful of baseball tradition by continuing to schedule the Yankees in prime-time.

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The next time we see the Chicago Cubs take the diamond, they'll be in the midst of their 100th season since their last World Championship back in 19-ought-eight. It's such a fascinating, and I must think, for them, embarrassing title drought. I'm always looking for different ways to wrap my head around the numbers. Try this one out: my brother's favorite team, the Reds, has won five championships during the same century, and are, for Aaron, in the middle of a frustrating stretch that dates back to their world title in 1990, with just one post-season appearance (2 series) since. They have not claimed the ultimate title now for 17 seasons. He was 15 years old when they last hoisted the trophy, a sophomore in high school, and now he's 32. He still lives like he's 15, but in many respects, he's now a completely different person. The championship took place in the first half of a lifetime that can actually recall a time when there wasn't a Bush or Clinton in the White House. Now think, when the Cubs' drought reached that same duration of time, it was still 1925. Phenomenal.

It least Zambrano will be well-rested, though.

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Baseball's post-season always makes me nostalgic for old Busch Stadium. (Has it been two years already?) There are only a couple places on Earth that I have warmer feelings for than that old beautiful baseball palace. Our eyes are often drawn back to such locales through pictures, but occasionally I'll catch a whiff of something that must be heated concrete or something. I'll pass by the scent in downtown Des Moines perhaps, and it smells just like the concourse outside old Busch.

Last night, my ears experienced a similar nostalgia. I came across a set of YouTube clips that had long-time Busch organist Ernie Hays and one of his successors performing some of their greatest hits. The boys still bang the keys at the new park, but the Yamaha AR100 never sounded better than when the notes were reverberating off those concrete arches atop the old yard. Sound warning. And great music warning also.

posted by CM @ 8:29 PM