A.L. The League Of The Future, And Of The Past
From where we sit, the National League is all Marge Schott, Harry Caray warbling the seventh-inning stretch, Tom Lasorda pulling the fabled, lateinning double switch, and the Astrodome, world’s oldest domed stadium.
On the other hand, the American League is a jewel like The Ballpark in Arlington or Camden Yards, the legacy of Babe Ruth, the new prodigy Ken Griffey Jr., and the born-again Cleveland Indians.
No fewer than six stadiums in the N.L. are carpeted in zippered, passe, artificial turf.
The A.L. has half that many - or four, if you count Bob Uecker’s hair weave.
They say the A.L., with its Griffeys, its Thomases and its Belles, is the league of the future. We won’t dare argue with that.
But what about the past? For six of these past seven years, the A.L. has had its way in the All-Star Game.
Tonight, do we hear seven of eight?
The future is now, and we hate to break it to Vin Scully and the gang, but Willie Mays and Hank Aaron have retired.
Monday’s homerfest was no accident. The A.L. is the superior animal, plays the more provocative game.
Robust, marquee attractions like Frank Thomas, Mark McGwire and Juan Gonzalez all sport A.L. addresses.
The Nationals, let me see, have Matt Williams. Oops. Another of those domes.
“I don’t think one league is better than the other,” said Colorado outfielder Dante Bichette, who served his apprenticeship in California and Milwaukee. “There’s a little more power in the American League, I guess, and a little more speed in the National. In the National League, I’d say the emphasis is more on defense and pitching.”
Yawn. So we noticed.
There’s nothing like a scintillating evening of nattily turned fielder’s choices.
These things move in cycles, they say. The Nationals were the first to embrace integration, the catalyst behind their domination of the ‘60s and ‘70s.
But those guys got old. Willie McCovey and Lou Brock couldn’t play forever. And in the meantime, gosh, even the Boston Red Sox signed a black ballplayer or two.
The gates opened. Dave Winfield, Cecil Fielder, Eddie Murray, Kirby Puckett, Bo Jackson.
Bo, too, knew the American League.
“Absolutely. The American League All-Star team is the better team,” said a guy who once lived and worked around here. “They’re just better players. The American League has got some great, young players, while the National League, I think, is in a little bit of a drought.
“Look at the Cleveland Indians. They’re loaded.”
That impartial observation came courtesy of the governor of Texas, George W. Bush. And half his constituents, remember, are Astros fans.
The All-Stars themselves brandished a touch more political correctness during Monday’s workouts. Nobody bragged they expected to win by the 10-run rule. And, unlike the New York Yankees, none of the Nationals put a bounty on Randy Johnson’s head.
Rather, the All-Stars offered vague snippets of comparison, like bachelors perusing the Miss America parade.
“I don’t think either league is better than the other,” Cincinnati’s Ron Gant said. “They’ve got great players in both leagues, as they prove each year in the World Series. One league doesn’t dominate the other in the Series.”
Bichette added this disclaimer: “There are better hitting parks in the American League. That’s why you see better numbers over there.”
Dante plays his ball, of course, at 5,280 feet, where N.L. pitchers have more than one reason to gasp for air.
But we’ll give you that. The N.L. has more pitchers’ parks than the A.L.
Yawn. When does Johnny Podres get to make his next start?
No, this is not a DH thing. That’s another whole column. But I say the joys of watching Hideo Nomo pitch are mitigated somewhat by having seen him try to hit. Egads, Tornadosan.
The A.L. doesn’t bother with such pointlessness. From where we sit, the A.L. is young and vibrant. It is old-time ballparks, old and new. It is the star of Stars at this 66th AllStar Game.
The National League - aren’t they on cable?