American as Capitalism

So Mike Piazza caught another ceremonial pitch from Tom Seaver. They played up their bromance at Citifield for all to see. Piazza was protected from the big bad media. He claims that he is a private person. Well if he wants to be a private person, let another of the Mets catchers, Carter, or Grote or somebody else, catch the ceremonial first pitch.

I remember, 1998, at Shea, when Piazza first arrived he’d step to the plate, and the home crowd would boo. After a few times, the Mets would instigate a chant. A drumbeat would sound, to drown out the booing masses and up on the big screen, the “Let’s go Mets” would flash, and parts of the crowd only saw the Diamond Vision, joined in the chant, in short, it worked. You see, Mike Piazza had a big contract with the Mets, although his ego dwarfed his contract, Piazza was the ninth highest paid player in the league. The Mets didn’t (still don’t) want to lose their investment.

This crowd manipulation was particularly cumbersome at the time. The Mets’ production crew was running on a linear system that had only two playout channels, two options of what they were going to show on the big screen. (They upgraded in 2002, lots of goodies, including an instant clip management system, and 19 channels, 19 options, sweet!) By requiring the “Let’s Go Mets” chant in one of its two channels, it divided by half, the options of the technical director. Whether he went to a live shot, or a replay, or a clip or pre-edited sequence from long ago, a decision had to be made, in advance, and stuck with. There was no switching on the fly. The only other channel wasn’t available.

The Mets protected Piazza, they always have. Mike Piazza did not want to answer the steroid question, so the Dwight Gooden graffiti scandal was born. Yes, a successful attempt to control the story, to stop the media griping about the snubbing Piazza gave them.

Why are they still protecting Piazza? Surely they can’t believe that he’s going into the Hall under a Mets cap. He’s not going into the Hall under anybody’s cap. Reporters may not report of his off field antics, due to the need for access, or ethics about deep backgrounds, but they know. (I wouldn’t know they story about the live rat being sent to a reporter, had the Sicilian princess not had my name inscribed on the package’s return address.) The media also know that he was an incomplete player. A DH, with an impressive publicist, and enough family connections to get him in the game.

When Mike Piazza began playing professional baseball, in September of 1992, he was rumored to be a 62nd round draft pick, only chosen as a favor to his brother’s Godfather, Tommy Lasorda. (Also, we’re supposed to believe that Lasorda had only enough juice for a 62nd round draft pick, but whatever.)

And now Tommy Lasorda is vouching for Piazza, big deal. So what else would he do? Tommy Lasorda began playing professional ball in 1945. He is not an innocent; he knows everything there is to know about the game. (In unrelated news, it was 1941, when Steve Rogers was injected with a super-solider serum, thus becoming, Captain America.) There isn't anything new under the sun.

In 1994, an extended baseball strike began which eventually cost the league upwards of $600 million dollars, and the goodwill of the public. People had become disenchanted with the game they felt angry and betrayed. Plus, as they didn’t have baseball to spend their time and money, they got used to spending their time and money on other things. When the strike did finally end, the players were not field fit. The small crowds resented the poor performance, and the clubs weren't making any money. The game needed something to juice it up, and a handful of players were eager to take the juice. They wanted to be rich, and famous, the owners wanted the media to focus on something positive, to lure back the crowds and their money.

Steroids seemed perfect. All gain, and no pain. Nobody had a way of testing for steroids, and if you couldn't prove steroid use, you could profit from it, which is what many decided to do. Steve Phillips, who acquired Mike Piazza for the Mets, is using that as a non-defense defense. He's protecting himself; sort of admitting he turned a blind eye, but not quite. He's a member of the media now, and he still needs access. Without it he doesn't have any story to tell. Without a story to tell, how's he supposed to fulfill his contract, and collect his money? It's a circle. Baseball, as American as capitalism.