Seattle Mariners, 2001 world champs

Bud Selig took the wrong approach when he decided to have the All-Star game determine home field advantage for the World Series. This is no secret, and sports columnists and fans have thorougly addressed the wrong-headedness of this decision over the past several years. Making the game 'count' (in the sense that a sporting event can 'count' because it has meaning in a larger context, like a team's record for the season) has not changed the manner in which the rosters are conceived or the manner in which the game is played. Your Mark Redmans of the world (5.27 ERA) will still make the team, because of the at-least-one-per-team rule, and middling players from the high profile, large market teams will benefit from ballot stuffing. (I'm looking at you, Red Sox and Yankees.) And most of the starting line-up is gone after a few innings, so as to provide cameos by the backups that barely register. If Joe Buck and Tim McCarver are nattering on over footage of an earlier play, you might miss the single at bat by the guy who actually is the best player in the league at that position that year.

So I would like to suggest a completely different perspective on the games that take place outside of the context of the regular season. Instead of trying to make the All-Star game count more, fuzzying the line between 'exhibition' games and games that 'count,' let's view the entire post-season as a long exhibition as well. When someone refers to the Diamondbacks as the 2001 World Champions, do you honestly believe that they were the best baseball team that year? (Seattle was pretty good that year, I believe.) Whether or not the best team wins in the post-season does bother me, but a merit-based argument on that topic is a different subject for a different day. No, I'd like us all to take this viewpoint because the post-season will continue to be on Fox for another 7 years, at least, and I wish to pout about it.

Of course, there is more to the games than the way they are presented to us on television. But as the entertainment they are, the games are supposed to live with us in real time, not just as box scores the next day. And I feel that if the games can't be presented to me in a fashion that I find watchable and entertaining, I'd almost prefer to pretend that they don't 'exist,' that they don't 'count.'

The corny broadcasters, led by, but not limited to, McCarver and Buck are the most obvious part of the Fox baseball problem. McCarver can't broadcast forever, true, but I don't have faith that the aesthetic of their sports packaging will have substantially changed in say, 2035. It seams like every talking head they have is less charismatic and credible than your local UHF channel's 10:00 news crew. Correct me if i'm wrong about this, but I could swear that I heard Steve Lyons call Chuck Knoblauch a 'gladiator' during the 2000 playoffs. And my favorite McCarver quote, regarding Bernie Williams in the same era: "A powerful swing, from a powerful man."

Their attempts to pander to the 'family' demographic with excessive graphics and the like are so condescending, I can't imagine any young kid smart enough to take to baseball to actually be wooed by them, however well intentioned they may be. The 8:00 PM intro had Americans from all walks of life staring at the sky as stars - get it? - rocketed across the continent to Pittsburgh. And did they still have that talking computer graphic baseball? I slept through part - and by part, I mean most - of the game.

So instead, I'd just like to focus my attention on the regular season and leave it at that. Instead of pretending to care who wins the All-Star game, I'm going to pretend to not care who wins in the post-season, especially because I have to watch Fox to see the games. (Note that I can't committ to not watching the post-season. I'm just saying I'll hold it in low regard.) Whoever has the best record at the end of the season is the true champ, I will insist, if only to myself!

Spin,1985 - ?

I would mourn its passing, but I can't even tell when Spin ceased being Spin anymore. After several years of rapid changes, the latest issues of Spin (epitomized by the current issue with Beyonce on the cover) have totally severed any ties with the magazine's former identity. It's like the Mickey Thomas-led Starship still plugging away in the late '80s, without even Grace Slick to tie it to its roots (as if that was making a difference vis-a-vis integrity). Keeping with the analogy, I guess the Grace Slick figure here is Charles Aaron, the only name in here that I recognize as having been a long-time resident writer, although recognizable rock writers like Will Hermes and Jon Dolan can be found within as well. The individual snippets of writing are not necessarily any worse than before, but the magazine's identity and utilitarian value are completely lost on me.

If you haven't seen it, I'll sum up the changes. As has been the trend in magazines for pretty much ever, the new emphasis is on more graphic design and less text. I actually have no objection to this as long as we're getting real content within this framework, but if it's here, it's hard to tell. There is more of this profiling and showing pictures of readers that I blame on the MTV reality show culture. I really don't need to see people in photos with their favorite musicians, or people who think they look like musicians, or who dressed up like Thor for Halloween, or whatever. New features "The Brain," where Charles Aaron answers reader questions, and "How to Buy," a career retrospective on one artist per month, are directly taken from Blender. (Although in fairness, Blender calls that feature "The Guide." It's Mojo that calls it "How to Buy.") There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of red. Red borders, red text. This is same approach taken by Electronic Gaming Monthly and many other magazines I read over the past few years. Was there some sort of study done that shows we buy more of the advertisers' products if all of the graphic design uses red? Maybe it just works on the key demographic - young men with spending cash.

The only thing that's even slightly interesting about this latest change is how slavishly they're imitating Blender. I don't know much about the rock magazine market in terms of circulation, but I can only surmise that Blender is the only one that is succeeding by the industry's standards of success, and that's been obvious for several years. Both Spin and Rolling Stone have been increasingly Blender-fied for several years, but with RS it actually worked out for the better. The lengthy dissertations on Robbie Robertson lyrics that passed for record reviews in RS 15 years ago were replaced with succinct, pointed writing, and Rob Sheffield's editorial voice dominates with genuine wit. RS is a pop culture magazine that emphasizes music, and has thoughtful journalism that educated people might want to read. Spin too had imitated Blender's high review volume and low-brow, pandering picture captions for several years, and has changed up their review format often in the past several years. (A 1-10 scale, then letter grades, now 1 to 5 stars.)

But what was once a trend is now outright slavish imitation. It smacks of desperation, and Spin no longer has an identity of its own that I can see. Blender itself is almost completely useles in its front sections each month, written for the sort of materialistic knucklehead who reads the parent magazine Maxim, but surprisingly showcases many of the best rock writers (Douglas Wolk, Ann Powers, Robert Christgau) in the back. I have no idea if any of the aforemented knuckleheads end up buying the King Suny Ade and Au Pairs reissues recommended in the back, but it's an interesting contrast, at least.

Imagining the staff meetings that led to this latest and most extreme change, I am reminded of an episode of The Larry Sanders Show, from circa '95 or so. Phil, Larry's head gag writer, is pitching sitcom ideas to the network. They tell Phil that they want something "Friends-like." After some frustrating experiences with their negative feedback, Phil finally asks, "do you want Friends-like, or Friends?" "We want Friends," they reply.

(I can't remember if this is the same episode where his sitcom premise about the tribulations of a ska band is reconceived by his network-chosen collaborator Dave Chapelle as a show where a club DJ in Baltimore solves mysteries each week. They have to put out the later seasons on DVD.)

Spin in its heyday was often indulgent and a little erratic in its taste. An issue from 1990 put Jandek and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan on a list of the ten most significant artists alongside the likes of Morrisey and Madonna. But there was genuine passion behind the occasionally misguided enthusiasm. Mark Kemp and Jim Greer had me convinced that the first Teenage Fanclub album would be a debut on a par with The Clash or Marquee Moon. (I finally acquired it a couple years back. It's not.) This version of Spin struck a nice middle ground between the underground-boosting likes of Option, and the head-up-the-ass fogey-ism of Rolling Stone. (Robbie Robertson's Storyville album was given 4 and a half stars!? Can you tell I think Jann Wenner overrates Robertson?) I learned about Can and countless other artists in those pages during the latter years of high school.

So rest in peace, Spin. Unless the last few issues on my subscription give me some indication that this magazine has anything to offer that RS and Blender don't already, I can't imagine renewing.