My mom always chides me for not reading the newspaper enough, which is ironic because I write for one. So I decided to subscribe to "The New York Times," take a glance at current events, and hopefully regain the love of my mother. Low and behold, there are many interesting news stories circulating our nation. For starters: California's recall seems to be taking political accountability to a new extreme, a hazardous Iraqi war is draining our defense department, the Democratic primaries are redefining pointless bickering and joblessness is at a 70-year high.
Feeling unsatisfied, I glimpsed at some news and listened to some word of mouth conversation dominating Dartmouth's campus. Here is what I found: Greenprint is charging 5 cents per page when we pay approximately $40,000 in tuition, my house -- like every other off-campus abode -- should be condemned its state of disrepair is that bad, and my sense of style is, "outdated." Yet, despite all of this interesting, complicated, and demoralizing hearsay, all I seem to care about is baseball. The Red Sox baby -- they're in the playoffs.
New England's continuously bemoaned and unremittingly loved sports franchise clinched the Wild Card last Thursday night and if they (I feel like I am cursing them just saying this) win the World Series, Boston may very well shut down for a few days of intoxicating celebration. But let's not discuss the Sox proclivity for October disappointments nor the squad's dynamic offense or perilous bullpen. Rather, let's pay homage to the man ultimately responsible for the Red Sox postseason status and, in addition, Major League baseball's dental-floss-thin lifeline.
Bud Selig, Commissioner of Major League Baseball and primary owner of baseball's perennial doormat -- the Milwaukee Brewers -- may very well leave an unfavorable legacy. After all, his reign as Commissioner has witnessed a continuous and problematic trend of fan alienation, a trend that has left baseball goers both angered and disillusioned. Furthermore, Selig has failed to solve baseball's one major contextual burden (with serious steroid abuse being acknowledged as a close second): modernizing a game steeped in revered tradition. Still for all of Selig's incompliant and illogical reforms (which, oddly enough, have tarnished the game's history while failing to modernize the product) his resume contains one solid gem: the Wild Card.
The Wild Card, once the crux of every sports bar debate and baseball historian complaint, is now the game's lone saving grace. The postseason reform gave Major League Baseball two important alterations. To begin with, it chipped away at the basic tenet of contemporary baseball, mainly that money spent through the canals of free agency outweighs patient player development. Without the Wild Card teams such as the Kansas City Royals and Florida Marlins, both financially impaired clubs, would have suffered through a season of lethargy. However, by utilizing their strong farm systems and capitalizing on the Wild Card playoff birth both teams made competitive runs for the post-season (Kansas City unsuccessfully).
The other, more regionally important reason the Wild Card is an appreciated success is that has allowed teams who share a habitually negative relationship with the Yankees a chance for postseason redemption. Delusional sports junkies may be distraught over finishing second to the "evil empire," but the majority of the Red Sox nation simply don't care as long as the make the playoffs. The Wild Card for them is a "get out of jail free card," the equivalent of postseason parole, and chance to eradicate the incorrigible demons of baseball past.
So at this time of blissful glee over the Sox first playoff birth in 5 years, and nervous anticipation over Byung Yung Kim having to close out games, it's important to give Bud Selig -- a man accustomed to unrelenting criticism -- his due. Because without the Wild Card, baseball would be an entirely predictable, 162 game redundancy, and New Englanders would undoubtedly be suffering through another bleak and wistful fall.