ENOUGH!

By: George Summerfield

The “Bartman Baseball” was blown up Thursday. The Today Show was in town to feature the event, which was televised around the nation. The promoters even brought an in “Oscar-winning special effects man” to perform the deed. Major League Baseball players are universally puzzled by the widespread fascination over this horsehide albatross.

Meanwhile, entertainment promoters everywhere are wondering whether Babe Ruth’s corpse can be exhumed for a new reality television series entitled “My Big, Fat, Obnoxious, Dead Fiance.” Alternatively, they are considering teaching an elephant to hold a bat in its trunk for guest appearances as the Detroit Tigers’ designated hitter - sort of a Bill Veeck meets “Man Versus Beast” promotion. As one can probably tell, my suspicion is that, while we weren’t looking, P.T. Barnum was elected Commissioner of Baseball.

I should say up front that I am nominally a White Sox fan. However, as a Chicago transplant, I am not saddled with the “I like the White Sox, so I must hate the Cubs” mentality that appears to afflict most native Chicagoans. Therefore, my comments regarding the whole Bartman Baseball incident are not driven by jealousy that the North-Siders are again in the spotlight. Rather, my feelings expressed herein are driven by the ever-increasing incursion of these types of distractions into the world of spectator sports.

Take, for example, the Janet Jackson-Justin Timberlake fracas at this year’s Super Bowl, which I will refer to as “Siliconegate,” as all scandals need such nicknames. I was one of the many millions who watched the Super Bowl live, but paid no attention to the halftime show. Of course, well after the game ended, an army of elected officials, tripping over one another to present themselves as the leader of the moral crusade du jour, brought the affair to my attention - over and over again. The irony of this whole series of events is that, but for the spotlight these outraged individuals shone on Ms. Jackson’s right breast, I and millions like me would likely have never known what occurred.

Now, thanks to the efforts of the moral few, I am aware of Siliconegate and I, like many others, am outraged. I am outraged that our tax dollars are being spent to devote more than a nanosecond’s worth of attention to this issue. I am outraged that one of a handful of Super Bowls that was actually worth watching has been relegated to the backdrop for a whipped-up hullabaloo over the exposure of a human boob.

Back to the Bartman Baseball - unlike the Super Bowl halftime incident, this media event had clearly been carefully planned for months, with Harry Caray’s and local media holding contests over how the offending baseball should be disposed of. Admittedly, proceeds from the event went to benefit juvenile diabetes research. However, nothing prevented the benefactors from simply writing a check to that same charity, eliminating the need for the whole explosive mess.

I am keeping my fingers crossed that I have heard the last of Steve Bartman and his now-infamous baseball. In part, I hold this hope for Mr. Bartman himself, as no mere sports fan should ever have this uninvited infamy attached to his name. My desires are, however, also selfish. I no longer wish to see spectator sports infected by these media-created sideshows that distract from the enjoyment of a game.

As an aside, I did not watch the Bartman Baseball Blast. Rather, I was perfectly content to watch UIC pull out a close win against Wright State - along with other real sports fans.

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