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You know how it is at The Cooler.
We like a Philosophical Debate here as much as anybody. We can go Spalding Grey-Eric Bogosian (remember that "SNL" skit?) with the best. Any topic:
Elvis, or the Beatles?
Jagermeister, or Jack Daniel's with a beer back?
Pre-silicone Pam Anderson, or "King Kong"-era Jessica Lange?
Today's argument revolves around the Baseball Landmark. As in: If your team stands to play victim to a swatch of baseball history, do you root for baseball history, or for your team?
The argument is germane to the drama at the San Francisco Giants' ballpark this weekend. Greg Maddux, all-around good guy/great pitcher/legendary figure, came to the Bay Area in search of win Number 300. The Giants, meanwhile, have been incurring the wrath of locals for failing to land Eric Gagne at the trade deadline, and for trotting out a lineup that has no business being in the playoff hunt, period, end of sentence.
On local sports-talk radio, the idea was floated: Wouldn't you like to see Maddux win his 300th? Just so you can say you saw baseball history?
The argument went on: There are 162 games in a season. If you're a Giants die-hard, one game probably won't tilt the balance of the season. Root for Maddux just for one day, so you can say you were there, but then root for the Giants after that.
I cogitated, long and hard, over the topic. I started a small brush fire with unshaven weekend whiskers, rubbing my chin while deep in thought. I pondered, mused and mulled.
And every time, the answer came back, one thousand percent strong: Pound Maddux! Send him to the showers after 2 and 1/3! Send him home with '299' stamped on his forehead like a scarlet letter!
Am I shallow? Am I petty? Do I not get it?
I understand, the more romantic of you may see me as a Neanderthal. But here's my argument:
The point being on that final argument (perfect game, no-hitter): You applaud a guy after his feat is accomplished. If your team is the victim of a perfecto, you root like hell for your team to get a knock, a walk or even a hit-by-pitch for nine full, and then, if the other team's pitcher has carved a perfecto, or thrown a no-no, then -- and ONLY THEN -- do you stand and applaud for the effort. By that time, the deed is done. Your team is toast. Acknowledge the effort with a classy ovation.
But, to root for a guy to win No. 300? In your park?
Come on!
That means the following arguments are in play:
Situation: Your team has the sacks full, with one out. Reaction: You're rooting for a 6-4-3 double play.
Situation: The other team has the sacks full, with one out. Reaction: You're rooting for somebody to rope one into the alley.
Situation: Your team has the bases drunk, a full count on your cleanup hitter. Reaction: You howl in disapproval when the opposing pitcher -- say, Greg Maddux -- gets squeezed on a call.
Study those situations. Can you, as a fan, in your gut, honestly root for those reactions?
If so, my friend, you are more of a robot than I.
That's all I have for you on that topic, before we go to the Weekend List of Five:
1. More Maddux
Let's get the record straight: Well done, Greg Maddux.
For nearly 20 years, you've worked the plate like Warren Beatty worked a Hollywood party in the mid-'70s -- with hungry intent, but with an insouciant glaze that lulled all prey into unwitting demise.
As the argument goes, you're the last of the 300 game winners. Several factors conspire: The five-man rotation, the quick hook, the La Russa-like lean towards the bullpen ... all mean the "W" just ain't that easy to come by anymore.
But in the annals of great ball achievements, the idea of witnessing a guy win his 300th just doesn't juice me all that much.
Here's how it went for Maddux: He threw 5-plus innings. He allowed 7 hits, and walked 3. He allowed 3 earned runs, and left with two runners on. It was, for all intents and purposes, a mediocre to sub-mediocre start. So the thrill is in the following: Watching relievers pitch the final four innings? Watching a game from innings six through nine, while you know Maddux is icing his shoulder in the clubhouse, eating a ham sando and watching the game on TV?
On the scale of Great Sports Moments You Can Witness (100 being the USA-Russia Olympic hockey game in 1980, 1 being Kareem Abdul-Jabbar setting the NBA scoring record), Maddux's 300th after 5-plus innings ranks about, oh, in the mid-20s.
All that said? If I was at the game? (I had tickets for Sunday, by the way, when Noah Lowry moved 298 games within the 300 mark).
Absolutely, at the end of the game, you stand and cheer for Maddux. By then, the deed is done. He's vanquished your team. You acknowledge as much.
Maddux is such a good guy, he didn't come out of the Cubs' dugout for a post-game roar, saying later: It's not our park. I didn't think it was the right thing to do.
I'd like to think Greg Maddux agrees with all the points laid out at The Cooler today. It's why he's a 300-win type of guy.
2. Canton
John Elway and Barry Sanders; Barry Sanders and John Elway -- the greatest 1-2 punch ever to be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame?
Shoot, I believed as much, on the surface. The boys on "SportsCenter" -- "Old School" -- even suggested as much. (By the way: Sweet jackets for Dan Patrick and Craig Kilborn on Sunday night. Reminded me of Stu Nahan's jacket in Jeff Spicoli's dream sequence in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High". I didn't know whether to get my scores from Patrick and Kilborn, or to buy some home insurance from them.)
But a little research showed the following:
In 1977, Gale Sayers and Bart Starr went in. In 1979, Johnny Unitas and Dick Butkus went in. In 1985, O.J. Simpson, Roger Staubach (and Joe Namath!) went in. In 1987, Mean Joe Greene and Gene Upshaw went in. In 1999, Eric Dickerson and Lawrence Taylor went in. In 2000, Joe Montana and Ronnie Lott went in.
(I have to pause here, and have a Moment for that last entry. Okay. I'm over it.)
So, let's say that Elway and Sanders are among the best 1-2 punches ever to enter Canton together.
Point being: There have been some inductions in Canton over the years that have been strong, to quite strong.
3. The Lakers: Say What?
So the Lake Show traded Gary Payton over the weekend. Best I can tell, here is the Lakers roster, as of August 8, 2004:
Chucky Atkins
Marcus Banks
Tony Bobbitt
Kobe Bryant
Caron Butler
Brian Cook
Vlade Divac
Marcus Douthit
Devean George
Brian Grant
Horace Grant
Karl Malone
Stanislav Medvedenko
Chris Mihm
Lamar Odom
Kareem Rush
Byron Russell
Sasha Vujacic
Luke Walton
Study that list, Lakers Fan. One by one. Compare it with other Western Conference rosters.
I leave you with one question: When did the Lakers die and become the Los Angeles Clippers?
4. Such a Freaky Scene
The Cooler would be remiss if we didn't pour out the last of the Dixie Cup for the passing of funk great Rick James, at age 52, or 56, or in-between, depending on which wire report you read.
At least one wire report confirmed the following bit of trivia: At the time of his passing, James was at work on an autobiography, working title: "Memoirs of a Super Freak."
I ask you, was it not the soul of a poet who wrote the following lyrics:
She likes the boys in the band/She says that I'm her all-time favorite/When I make my move to her room it's the right time/She's never hard to please ...
And later, lyrics still soaring:
Three's not a crowd to her, she says/Room 714 I'll be waiting/When I get there she's got incense, wine and candles/It's such a freaky scene.
I guess we can't say Rick James was ever denied the finer pleasures in life, can we?
Adios, Rick. Adios.
5. A Salute to Piven
In an era defined by the comedy of Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, how has Jeremy Piven slid underneath the radar of so many?
I believe my buddies and I were the only members of homo sapiens to find merit, and even rich comedy, in the 1994 film "PCU", a project unnecessarily pilloried and overlooked by the general public. The key to it all: Jeremy Piven's "Droz" -- the breakthrough of a smart, sardonic, scene-stealing actor.
His credits are ridiculously good: "Larry Sanders", "Black Hawk Down", "Old School", even the damn "Ellen" show, for the love of Christ.
I bring this up because of HBO's latest offering, "Entourage", a comedy series based on a young actor's absurd life of riches, babes and hangers-on. The wife and I have given the first three episodes a go, and while there are holes in the series comparable to the Giants' bullpen, Piven, as the actor's agent, kills, consistently.
To hear him brag of his new videoconferencing tool thusly -- "I had video sex with an Ecuadorian babe this morning ... all I remember is that she had big teeth and a sarong" -- is to enjoy pure Piven. It's pure energy, and pure original.
Piven is from Chicago, a John Cusack crony of the Evanston, Ill. mold. I'd like to think he's a Cubs fan, like Cusack. And I'd like to think he'd rather see Maddux win No. 300 at Wrigley.
Who wouldn't? Come on!
Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes every Monday for Page 2.