Joltin' Joe

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Sixty–nine years ago today, Joe DiMaggio hit safely in his 56th consecutive game.

In the long history of baseball, no one else ever hit safely in 50 straight games, let alone 56, and darn few (five others, in fact) hit safely in 40 games in a row or more.

It seems like a record that may stand indefinitely — and it's ironic that this anniversary comes just a couple of days after the death of Yankees owner George Steinbrenner. But if it hadn't been for DiMaggio, the record for the longest hitting streak would never belong to the Yankees. No matter how talented they were, no Yankee before or since DiMaggio's day — not Babe Ruth, not Lou Gehrig, not Mickey Mantle or Don Mattingly or Derek Jeter or A–Rod — ever had a streak of 30 straight games or more.

Streaks of that length are pretty rare, and longer streaks are even more uncommon. Only one, in fact — Pete Rose's 44–game hitting streak in 1978 — has occurred in my lifetime.

There have been some other pretty impressive streaks. Paul Molitor of the Milwaukee Brewers, for example, hit safely in 39 straight games in 1987. That year, incidentally, Robin Ventura hit safely in 58 games. But Ventura, who played for four different major league teams in his professional career, wasn't playing professional ball in 1987. He was playing for Oklahoma State University.

DiMaggio's streak has, justifiably, become the stuff of legend in nearly seven decades. One wonders if anyone will ever scale that mountain again.

George Steinbrenner Dies

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I'm not a New York Yankees fan. Never have been.

But, while longtime Yankees fans may disagree with me, it seems to me that the last couple of days have been among the most extraordinary in the long and colorful history of the storied franchise.

First, over the weekend, retired announcer Bob Sheppard, known as the "Voice of the Yankees" and often referred to as the "voice of God," died at the age of 99.

Then, today, George Steinbrenner, who owned the Yankees for more than 35 years, died following a massive heart attack. He was 80.

Ironically, today is the day when major league baseball's all–star game will be played. Other than the World Series — which Steinbrenner's Yankees won last fall — perhaps no other time (other than Opening Day) is as meaningful to baseball fans.

The game isn't being played in New York, but wouldn't it be ideal if it was, today of all days? It seems all but certain that, when the festivities begin tonight, at some point the folks in the ballpark will be asked to observe a moment of silence in Steinbrenner's memory.

Silence. What a concept to be mentioned in connection with a man who may have been the most bombastic sports team owner in memory.

But he did get results — 11 American League pennants and seven world titles. Not bad when you realize that, when Steinbrenner took over the team in 1973, the Yankees hadn't won an American League crown in nearly a decade.

Still, his often–brash personality was fodder for the late–night guys and for those who were eager to make a few bucks on his somewhat salty reputation.

He hired (and fired) former Yankee player Billy Martin to manage the team on several occasions. Martin took the Yankees to a world championship in 1977, but his frequent undoing as their manager may have been his volatile nature.

The Miller Brewing Co. got a lot of mileage out of their relationship in the 1970s and 1980s — and the "Less filling! Tastes great!" debates seemed tailor–made for Steinbrenner and Martin. There were several of them over the years. My favorite was always the ad where Steinbrenner and Martin argue, as they do in the attached clip, and then Steinbrenner says, sternly, "Billy! You're fired!"

And Martin replies, "Oh, no! Not again!"

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Even though Steinbrenner hadn't been particularly active in the Yankees' day–to–day business in recent years, he always seemed like a constant presence.

And, in truth, it may be difficult now to realize that he's gone. Not just because his public appearances were so rare in recent years but also because his sons Hal and Hank have been running things since he mostly stepped aside in 2006. I've heard that the two, especially Hank, have demonstrated qualities that are reminiscent of their father.

So it may seem, in a way, that Steinbrenner isn't really gone. Yep, it may seem that way. For awhile.

But he is gone. And he will gradually recede into Yankee lore, along with the great players who have come and gone.

But there may yet be another opportunity for the Yankees to honor their one–of–a–kind owner.

If the Yankees return to the playoffs this fall — and, given the fact that they currently lead their division (which is significant, even though New York's lead is a mere two games, because, as Tom Verducci observes in Sports Illustrated, teams that lead their divisions at the All–Star break have proceeded to the playoffs nearly three–quarters of the time in the 14 years since the introduction of the wild card into the playoff lineup, and the leader of the AL East has been even more automatic than that), it seems all but certain that they will — I am sure we will hear Yankee coaches and players speak of how they have dedicated the postseason to the Boss' memory.

The crowds at the home games will be worked up into a frenzy. And if the Yankees win what would be the 28th World Series title in their history, it will be an emotional moment for fans and players alike — not to mention Hank and Hal, who would certainly be on hand.

Such drama would clearly be worthy of Steinbrenner. But we will have to wait until October to see if it comes to pass.

In the meantime, tonight's tribute should be worth watching.

An era in American sports truly has ended.

Still Like Watching Paint Dry

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About 20 years ago, I was at my parents' home, and my father and I were watching a World Cup soccer match.

Neither of us are soccer fans, but on this particular afternoon, there was (literally) nothing else on. So we watched the game. It was scoreless through regulation, then they went through whatever tedious procedure soccer had in place at that time for overtime.

Eventually, someone won. And I had reached a conclusion.

I had long believed that all someone who was suffering from insomnia needed to do was stretch out on a couch and watch a video tape of a golf tournament — and that person would be out like a light.

No expensive doctor visits. No prescription sleep aids. No special diets or superstitious rituals. Just a few pastoral minutes of watching golfers and listening to announcers who always speak in tones so hushed it is as if they are standing right behind the golfer.

But that afternoon convinced me. If I ever had trouble sleeping, all I had to do was watch a recording of a soccer match. Preferably that soccer match.

It was more effective than a tape of a golf tournament. No kidding. I caught myself starting to doze off a couple of times. And I wasn't having trouble with insomnia, either.

It was like eating several slices of turkey on Thanksgiving Day — without feeling stuffed, just drowsy.

Anyway, fast forward 20 years — to yesterday, when the scene was replayed in South Africa as Spain and the Netherlands played in the World Cup final.

I watched the match — the first soccer game I have watched in two decades — and it was still about as exciting — for me — as watching paint dry.

Now, let me say this.

I know the World Cup is a big deal in most places in this world. And soccer has an apparently devoted following right here in Dallas, Texas, where "football" usually means the Dallas Cowboys or the Texas Longhorns.

Around here, "football" usually means helmets and shoulder pads and knee pads, not shorts. Rules infractions are indicated by yellow flags, not yellow cards.

And a buzzing noise likely means the football players (or a group of bystanders, like band members or cheerleaders) have disturbed some bees or wasps. I have no idea what that weird buzzing noise at soccer games is about.

Even so, I often see children — both boys and girls — kicking soccer balls in empty fields. And I figure there must be some upside to a sport that keeps children active outside instead of remaining sedentary inside playing video games.

But I still don't think the sport will catch on in America.

Don't get me wrong. I have always appreciated good defense in any sport — mainly, I suppose, because I was brought up to believe that defense really does win championships.

Now, I have seen periods in the histories of just about every major sport in which the powers that be made some kind of change — in the rules, in the equipment, whatever — to encourage a little more offense, a little more scoring.

What I saw yesterday suggests to me that soccer has been needing some kind of adjustment for a long, long time. Something that will put a little offense back into the game. It was scoreless at the end of regulation yesterday. Spain wound up winning in overtime, 1–0.

I'm happy for the fans in Spain because I know they have been waiting for this for a long time. And I'm sorry for the fans in the Netherlands because I know they're disappointed. I can relate to both.

And it appears that the tournament was a huge success for the host nation. But scoring seems a bit sparse in soccer, considering that each half is 45 minutes long.

I think most Americans are like me — they appreciate good defense, but they need some offense. A 0–0 score at the end of regulation is only dramatic when it is not expected, not when it is routine.

That's why I just don't think that soccer has a chance with mainstream sports fans in the United States.

Because it's still about as exciting as watching paint dry.

It's All About Lebron

I haven't seen the ratings for Lebron James' hour–long self–lovefest yet.

I know. A few months ago, I wrote in this blog that it was all about Tiger Woods. But that was following Tiger's public "apology" — which, it is worth noting, did not require anywhere near an hour.

Of course, neither did Lebron's announcement. Well, I'm guessing it didn't take an hour to make it. I didn't watch the show.

And, in fairness, Lebron's announcement was an ESPN exclusive. It wasn't shown live on several networks simultaneously — the way Tiger's apology was.

But it did include sponsors, which makes it a commercial endeavor, whereas Tiger's apology was treated as a "news" event.

So, while I still believe that it was all about Tiger back in February, I believe it's all about Lebron now.

Both were shows, not really news events, although there were kernels of news to be found in each one. But they were faux news events. Tiger's sorry he cheated on his wife — how many times? Lebron's going to play for the highest bidder?

What were the odds?

I was amused yesterday when I saw an article at NPR.org, which suggested 20 ways that Lebron could fill "the other 59 minutes and 45 seconds."

Of course, the hour did include commercial breaks, and the revenue from the commercials was earmarked to benefit Boys and Girls Clubs, which is a good thing.

But make no mistake about it.

This production was really about Lebron.

I guess it shouldn't surprise us, this obsession with themselves that so many celebrities seem to have these days.

At its worst, it can be seen in the blatant narcissism of Lindsay Lohan's ongoing saga. But it is everywhere, really, to varying degrees.

So Lebron is not alone.

And he certainly doesn't appear to have been alone last night. If his ESPN "special" was, in fact, a media circus, as Richard Deitsch writes for Sports Illustrated, there were plenty of clowns running around.

And some people have the audacity to suggest that this is "reality" television.

Whose reality would that be?