A Star In The Making

The records will show 6,644 paying customers saw it in person at Phoenix Municipal Stadium, and a few thousand more tuned in to watch on Bay Area TV.

What they saw on Saturday may someday be remembered fondly as the coming-out party for a guy who could easily become a Very Big Deal.

Yoenis Cespedes is a 26-year-old legend in Cuban baseball but a virtual unknown here in the States. My guess is that, despite playing in the relative anonymity of Oakland, Cespedes will soon be a household name in baseball circles.

Until Saturday, he was little more than a myth to most fans. An imposing physical specimen, Cespedes looks like he could easily be an NFL running back. His defection from Cuba last summer opened the door to a Major League Baseball career, and the A's surprised a lot of people when they nailed down a 4-year-deal with him just before Spring Training opened.

Until Saturday, Cespedes was doing all his damage in batting practice and "simulated games", which are a slightly-more-realistic form of BP. Reporters and the small handful of fans who hung around the A's Papago Park complex were impressed, but batting practice is batting practice.

And then Cespedes dug in for his first real at-bat in a Major League uniform (which, by the way, he wears like a superstar). On the mound: Johnny Cueto, the Reds righthander whose 2.31 ERA last year ranked as one of the best in baseball.

Anyone would have forgiven Cespedes for trying to do something heroic in a hurry. Instead, he displayed the patience and pitch recognition of a veteran hitter and drew a walk off Cueto. In his second at-bat, he lined a single up the middle. He punctuated his coming-out party in his final at-bat, fouling off several pitches before ripping a loud, no-doubt-about it home run.

A's fans who've been griping about what they see as management futility may still not be satisfied; the team is in a tough division and may remain far short of competitive. But they should take heart in the knowledge that in Yoenis Cespedes, the A's have a player you have to watch.

It's a long way from starring for Granma Alazanes in the Cuban National Series to starring in the Major Leagues. But anyone who saw Yoenis Cespedes' debut has to believe it's more than possible--it appears probable.

Jeremy Lin: Not An Overnight Sensation

With the warp-speed reality of life in the Media Age, it's a bit unsettling to realize that the Jeremy Lin Phenomenon is barely a week old. But in the space of five games over eight days, Lin blew up.

At the beginning, a nice little story. "Hey, isn't that cool? A guy from Harvard in the NBA!" "Yeah, and he's Asian-American, too! Wow!"

Lin warmed the bench for the Warriors last year and the whole Harvard/Asian-American thing made for some nice feature stories, but little more.

And then he ended up playing for the Knicks, in the Center of the Media Universe. And then, against all odds, he got a chance to play. And then...well, you know the story. A 26.8 point scoring average as the Knicks won 5 straight. A 38-point outburst against the Lakers. A game-sealing free throw by an obviously-fatigued Lin to ice win over the T-Wolves. And a memorable quote by Knicks coach Mike D'Antoni, who said he was riding Lin "like friggin' Secretariat" as long as his young guard kept producing.

We've all been fascinated by Lin's remarkable week. We all know it won't last forever. Many of us hope Lin will become a solid NBA player for a long time.

But here's the part of the story I hope takes root: Jeremy Lin has been a success at every level of basketball, while the so-called "experts" managed to be wrong every time. After leading an undermanned Palo Alto High team to a state championship win over powerhouse Mater Dei, not one Division 1 program offered him a scholarship.

After helping turn Harvard basketball into something other than a punchline, Lin went undrafted by NBA teams, several of which had invited him to work out for them. But it turns out that an NBA "workout" isn't actually "basketball". It might be a two-on-two or three-on-three drill, but not a full game--which is where Lin's subtle game begins to shine.

He managed to wangle an invitation to play on the Dallas Mavericks' summer-league team in Las Vegas, where they play actual games--and where he began to get noticed. Still, after signing him, the woeful Warriors plopped him on the bench. He managed to get up all of 72 shots all year, or 6 fewer than he's taken in his 4 games as a Knicks starter. Again: the Warriors saw but short bursts of a guy whose game is only evident over the long haul.

Jeremy Lin may seem like the new new thing, but in fact, his story is one of the oldest ever told: that of the tortoise versus the hare. Sure, Lin is rabbit-quick on the court. But his career arc is more tortoise-like; a guy who just keeps showing up and performing and when you get to the finish line, there he is waiting for you. An overnight sensation? Not really. It only looks that way to the experts who missed the story over and over again.

End The All-Star Games

Brandon Marshall set a Pro Bowl record with four touchdown catches in Honolulu. It's not something about which he should be proud.

The latest Pro Bowl, a 59-41 win by one side over the other (don't ask me which conference won, I'm still numb) should once and for all prove the need to kill off the Pro Bowl. And while you're at it, put a fork in the NHL All-Star Game too (the 12-9 final score in Sunday's game doesn't even begin to tell you how silly the whole thing was).

The problem with these games is that they don't fairly represent their exciting sports. Pro football and NHL hockey feature hard hitting and, yes, defense. You won't see any of that in the Pro Bowl or NHL All-Star Game. I do note that this year's NHL folly produced exactly one recorded hit. I'm guessing it was a mistake on someone's part.

If you love football or hockey, you'll have to agree. "But," some will argue, "it's fun to watch those great quarterbacks and receivers throw for all those yards!" Well, yeah, but when the defense isn't really playing defense, does it matter?

Once upon a time, these games looked like real football and hockey games. Players didn't earn so much money, and the bonus they got for playing made them willing to play hard. Now, no sane player wants to risk injury in a meaningless exhibition.

The baseball All-Star Game is the granddaddy of these contests and, despite the tendency in recent years of some players to skip the event, still the only one that really works. It's easy to see why: baseball players seldom get hurt in this game (I know, Ray Fosse and Dizzy Dean prove otherwise; both suffered career-altering injuries in All-Star games). The baseball All-Star Game provides a full display of the sport's magic: pitching, hitting, defense, baserunning.

The NBA puts on a scorefest every year that falls somewhere between the fairly-pure baseball event and the putrid NFL and NHL embarrassments. There's not much defense at your typical NBA All-Star Game either, but then many would argue there's not that much at a typical NBA regular-season game.

My guess is that the Pro Bowl will be gone sooner rather than later. NFL conscience John Madden tells KCBS he'll soon be making exactly that pitch to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell. There's really no constituency to stick up for the Pro Bowl; even the TV networks accept it as a sort of mandatory throw-in, something they have to swallow so they can get the rest of the broadcast rights package.

The NHL situation is different. A league that remains incapable of getting rid of ritualized fighting has already shown itself to be well short of clueless. Of course, maybe there's some weird logic here: the stat sheet for the NHL All-Star Game showed zero penalty minutes...and zero fights.

The Phenomenon

He's more than a quarterback, although some argue he's not really a quarterback.

Tim Tebow is actually a living, breathing, funky-throwing Rorschach test. What you see in him probably tells us more about you than it does about him.

The latest improbability, Denver's overtime defeat of the Steelers, doesn't merely add a layer to the Tebow legend. It means at least another week of national attention. It lets all those who revel in Tebow's exploits exult, and lets the bile rise further in those who just can't stand Tebow and/or all the attention he's gotten.

Let's not kid ourselves for a single moment: if it wasn't for the Christianity he wears on his sleeve, Tim Tebow would garner far less attention. He'd still be an interesting thing to watch: an exuberant kid with an unusual skill set whose play is alternately frustrating and exhilarating.

But you can't escape the religion thing. For some, it makes Tebow their guy, even if they never knew Denver had a football team. For others, there's a profound discomfort in listening to Tebow praise his Lord and talk about how lucky he is to play with so many great guys.

This "Tebow's great!" vs. "I can't stand that guy!" debate is not very much about football, but very much about our conflicted feelings regarding faith and the public display of it. What you see in Tim Tebow reflects your own beliefs.

I've had people tell me that the media created the Tebow phenomenon. Baloney. Tim Tebow is a spectacle you can't ignore (and we would have ignored it if the Broncos had gone 5-11), but what makes the thing so big is the debate.

Look at that photo again. What do you see?

A Bleak Future

Let me say it right off the top: it's not Billy Beane's fault. It's not Lew Wolff's, either. But I don't blame Oakland A's fans for wanting to blame somebody for the latest dismantling of the ballclub.

And make no mistake about it, the A's are being broken up. It's not like they were a juggernaut; the A's finished 14 games under .500 in 2011 and have about as good a chance of catching up to the Angels and Rangers as I do of cracking a big-league roster myself. Now? Minus Gio Gonzales, Trevor Cahill, Andrew Bailey, Josh Willingham, Ryan Sweeney, David DeJesus, Coco Crisp et al? Fat chance.

Of course all this is being played out against the backdrop of the team's stalled efforts to move to San Jose. It's no longer just idle talk; Beane is out-and-out saying that the cheapening of the A's is a way of hunkering down until the team can move to a brighter financial future in a new stadium.

Some think Wolff and Beane are blowing up the ballclub in hopes that it'll pressure The Lords of Baseball into approving the San Jose plan. Maybe so, but that gambit has a low probability of success. Remember, the roadblock here wears orange-and-black. Until and unless the Giants are compensated to their satisfaction for an A's intrusion into Giants territory, this deal is dead. And do you think MLB would step in and anger one of its marquee franchises (the Giants) in favor of one of its weak sisters (the A's)? Not likely.

So back to my opening line. If not Beane and Wolff, who do A's fans blame? Well, actually, they should be angry at the entirety of Major League Baseball. The sport continues to operate under an absolutely unfair set of financial rules which allow the wealthiest clubs to run payrolls more than 5 times the size of the poorest clubs. The "luxury tax"? A complete joke. Only two teams are paying it in 2012--the Yankees and Red Sox--and the total of around $18 million doesn't even begin to address the disparity between baseball's haves and have-nots.

Look, money is no guarantee. The Tampa Bay Rays are proof that you can win with a low budget, and the Cubs (and others) have certainly managed to spend plenty with little to show for it. But wouldn't you rather see baseball teams compete on a level financial playing field? OK, Yankees and Red Sox fans, you're excused from the conversation.

While baseball's rich get richer, A's fans get screwed. What the A's really should do is express solidarity with the Occupy movement. In fact, maybe that's the answer. Re-name the team "Occupy Oakland". Refuse to leave the Coliseum until the 1 percenters share the wealth.

Oh, and don't forget to buy a program on Opening Day. It's the only way you'll be able to identify the guys wearing green and gold.

Baseball's New Dress Code

This is how bad things have gotten: Major League Baseball has just issued a dress code.

Not for players, or managers, or even front-office folks.

For reporters.

MLB thus becomes the first of the major North American sports leagues to tell the people who cover the games that they, in some cases, need to cover up. The policy forbids flip-flops, short-shorts, tank tops, and visible underwear.

San Francisco Chronicle writer Susan Slusser is a member of the Baseball Writers' Association of America committee that worked with MLB to develop the dress code. She is probably well-understating the issue when she says, "Personally, I believe the baseball media in general could dress slightly more professionally."

Slightly?

You know what they say about stone-throwers in glass houses, so I'll be careful here. But let's just say very few of the people who cover pro sports are going to show up on any Best-Dressed lists. For every on-camera sideline dandy (yes, Craig Sager, I'm talking about you), there's a horde of guys (and gals) in torn jeans, ratty shorts, and T-shirts.

Some of them might get a free pass because they're pulling cables and schlepping cameras. But most are hauling nothing any heavier than a notepad or MP3 recorder.

The "how to dress for the ballpark" story blew into the headlines a year or so ago when a reporter for a Mexican TV channel showed up in the New York Jets training camp dressed for...well, I'm not sure what. Maybe a dance club? There have also been numerous sightings of Miami TV reporters who looked like maybe they mistook Sun Life Stadium for a trendy South Beach nightspot.

Clearly, some of this has been "look at me"-driven. But it's also true that the art of personal presentation has been in decline for many a year. Have you looked around you at a nice restaurant lately?

Social norms have evaporated, but there's also something else at work here. MLB's Pat Courtney points out that many of the people who cover baseball no longer work for "a bigger organization that may have a dress code." In other words, they're freelancers, bloggers and the like. They're their own bosses and they don't have anyone telling them what's OK to wear to the office.

Now MLB is telling them. The rules may improve the look of the media corps, but it's doubtful the ballplayers will be any more impressed with the people with the notepads. After all, they know how to dress.

Two Little Words

Baseball's new collective bargaining agreement guarantees five more years of labor peace. There's been plenty of talk about the new wild-card playoff plan, the league re-alignment (moving Houston to the American League), and the new drug-testing policy which includes blood tests for human growth hormone (HGH).

But largely below the radar screen, two little words have been inserted that speak volumes about how far the world of sports has come on the issue of sexual orientation. Baseball's long protected the rights of players based on their "race, color, religion, or national origin." The new CBA adds "sexual orientation" to the list of protected categories.

Of course, merely saying the sport protects the rights of gay ballplayers (and don't kid yourself, there certainly are gay ballplayers) doesn't mean the anti-gay slurs will dry up and blow away. Just last season, Atlanta Braves pitching coach Roger McDowell dropped a crude anti-gay comment (amplified with a gesture involving a bat) on some fans at San Francisco's AT&T Park.

No, the homophobic sports culture won't change overnight. But the times, they are a-changin'. Most other pro sports leagues already have similar language in their basic agreements (notably, the NBA does not, though one hopes that will be addressed in current labor talks). Many baseball teams hold "LGBT Nights" in recognition of the fact that you don't have to be straight to be a fan. And a number of teams, including the Giants, have produced videos as part of the "It Gets Better" anti-homophobia program.

Eventually, the term "out" will have multiple meanings in big-league baseball. That might still take some time. But for now, it's a step forward to see the sport--owners and players--agree that gay ballplayers deserve full protection. I know plenty of gay and lesbian fans; they root just as hard and wear their teams' colors just as proudly as anyone else. Now they can feel that the sport speaks for them, too.

Nobody wins when somebody is left out or marginalized.