By the time you read this, this may all be a fait accompli. If it is, I suggest you do one of two things: 1) Run to the nearest birdcage and cover its bottom with this yarn, or 2) enroll in a French class immediately.
If by any chance the saga of the Brandon Aiyuk controversy is not over yet, I want you to know that I share your grief, Brandon.
I have asked this newspaper for a 100 percent raise for the past 10 years. I told them that if they didn’t give me the money I needed, I would agree to a trade. And I would accept doubling my rookie salary. I planned to jump from $50 to $100 a week. But when the New York Times only wanted to trade a real columnist instead of me, and I realized my demands would exceed the IJ’s salary cap, I gave in. I’m proud to be an IJer.
I can certainly understand that the paltry $14 million you’d have to work for if the Niners didn’t trade you or negotiate a new long-term contract is just not going to cut it for you. It’s business, Brandon – nobody understands it like I do.
Look at this, BA, it’s all about the future. And I’ve already accumulated well over $837 in my retirement fund in just 18 short years. If you don’t make it with the Niners, buddy, I could lend you $10 or $20 until payday. I know you deserve it.
Why don’t the Giants do more bunts?
I think I first heard this question sometime midseason, when Willie Mays, Orlando Cepeda and Willie McCovey formed the core of the San Francisco Giants’ batting order.
That question was asked in the days when there were about 150 home runs from the middle of the line, and the answer generally came in the form of a stream of tobacco juice falling directly onto your new Converse sneakers. Or with an emphatic “WHAT!?”
Now here we are in 2024 and the “Manfred Man” is on second base to start the first extra inning and everything that might come after. What do you do now? Send him to third base with one out or hope for a hit and an eventual win? There is no right answer other than the fact that a runner on third base with one out scores 61% of the time. So do you play for a tie? Or for the win?
I’m a Bob Melvin guy. He’s a professional that players love to work for. Twice this week, Melvin faced the “bunt or not” situation in the 10th inning. Once he decided to go for a tie and bunt, and once he decided to swing away and maybe win. If there was free soup this week, Bob Melvin would have a fork. He was wrong both times. Ultimately, the biggest idiot in my opinion is the guy who instituted the “Ghost Runner” rule in the first place.
And one more note about baseball before we go any further. Did you notice that there were only two American League players on Wednesday who had a batting average of .300 or better? A batting average of .306 leads the league! The last time there were so few was 1968. That year, Carl Yastrzemski led the league with a batting average of .301. No one else reached the .300 mark. The next year, the mound was lowered to give hitters at least a small edge.
In the decade following the steroid era, from 2010 to 2019, there were an average of 22 .300 hitters per year. In 2009, the year before the crackdown on steroids, there were 43.
There’s only one solution. Flatten the mound completely and allow pitchers to throw only rubber balls with no seams. Sinkers wouldn’t fall and curve balls wouldn’t curve. Batting averages would go up, as would total home runs. Pitchers could pitch every third day and 30-game winners would be commonplace. And an ERA of less than 10.05 would be All-Star worthy. I think we’re onto something here.
Does anyone have Rob Manfred’s email address?
Neon Deion and the Incredibly Shrinking Hype Machine
Remember the comedian Gallagher? His entire act consisted of him smashing fruit and vegetables with a giant hammer. It was down-to-earth humor (my favorite) and he ended up smashing a giant watermelon, the pieces of which flew into the audience, sending them flying out of the theater and straight to the dry cleaners. There were big laughs. And then no more.
Gallagher is like Deion Sanders to me. I always liked Deion. During his baseball cameo with the Giants, he was extremely popular with both his teammates and the media. In football, he was a cornerback extraordinaire – arguably the best to ever do it. His smile lit up the room. He was smart, funny and danced to his own tune.
He became a college football coach at Jackson State University in Mississippi, a black university. When asked how he got to Jackson State, he said, “God called me collect and I had to accept the fees.” He even donated half of his $300,000 annual salary to the university to improve the training facilities. And then he went out and won.
Then he got a call from Colorado asking if he could do the same thing at a bigger school in a bigger league. Oh yeah, and they would pay him $30 million to do it.
So he came to Boulder. With his top recruit from Jackson State and also his sons, the quarterback and the defensive back. Then he told 60 returning players he didn’t want them there, and he rebuilt the entire roster by bringing in 71 new faces. Wow! The Buffs won their first three games and Sanders was a national hero. After that, they went 1-8, and 61% of that class said “see you later” after the season.
This year, Sanders has decided to dictate his own story. He has a full-time camera crew of three people who are constantly on the ground. He has a reality show on Amazon Prime. He has had verbal battles with local newspapers and radio people. The show has gotten old, even though it is still relatively young.
The good-natured “prime time” has given way to an insecure egoism. And at the moment, last year’s 1-8 finish stands out much more than the 3-0 start.
All I can offer Deion Sanders is this advice: If your phone rings again, don’t accept the charge. It could be your athletic director. God has left the building.
Barry Tompkins is a 40-year network sportscaster from San Francisco. You can email him at [email protected].
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