ow
old are Robin Yount’s kids? Do Paul Molitor’s children play baseball
yet? I know Jimmy Gantner had a daughter who played some sport in high
school here in Wisconsin. Why didn’t Hank Aaron’s kids go on to play
ball? Al Simmons, perhaps the greatest player ever who hailed from
Milwaukee, never had children. Too bad for us.
The Ken Griffey Jr. trade to his
hometown of Cincinnati last week was a monumental day in the life of
small-market slugs. The gargantuan impact it will have on the hopes and
dreams of the fans between the coasts is staggering. We no longer need the
most money. We won’t bother to beef up our farm system. Scouts can take
an extra month or two of vacation. The plan is simple. Make sure the
superstar offspring of a former player from your hometown has the
heartfelt urge to come home. Like Dorothy said: "There’s no place
like home. There’s no place like home."
To recap this off-season drama,
Junior made it clear he wanted out of Seattle. First, he said he wanted to
be closer to his family – not his father – but "his" family,
wife and kids. That would put him south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Later, he
declared that the only team he would accept a trade to was Cincinnati,
where his father/namesake coaches and where Junior grew up. Feeling that
the Mariners and Reds were too slow in their negotiations, Junior reminded
us that he received death threats and that playing in Seattle was now
"really" out of the question.
First of all, I’m not convinced
there were death threats. Secondly, if that were a legitimate deterrent,
Hank Aaron would have hit his 715th homer in Costa Rica.
Regardless, the main reason for this methodical deal was Griffey’s
request itself. The Reds had the Mariners over a barrel, and smartly
waited it out. Because Griffey’s sole personal destination was Cincy, no
other team could outbid the Reds for his services. That, my friends, made
it a buyer’s market.
The great aspect of this new
method of corralling big-time talent is that the father himself need not
be a superstar. We don’t get a steady stream of mega-stars in Milwaukee
anyway. Come to think of it, Yount, Molitor and Simmons wouldn’t qualify
as potential suitors. They were too good. Any offspring from them couldn’t
possibly top their dads. Conversely, if Bob Uecker’s son ever reached
baseball stardom, we could overlook Uke’s flirtations with the Mendoza
line during his playing days (I don’t know if ole Uke has a son, but if
he did and could tear into a fastball like Junior, the welcome mat at
Milwaukee County Stadium would cover home plate and both batter’s
boxes).
Ken Griffey Sr. was a solid
player surrounded by loads of talent. He was a key cog in the famed Big
Red Machine of the 1970’s. He and his wife sired an athletic gem in
Junior. With this recent trade, the younger Griffey settled for $112.5
million over 9 years to play for his hometown Reds. (Pardon the aside
here: Junior said it wasn’t about the money. Well, if Shania Twain
handed you a written guarantee of holy matrimony, wouldn’t it be easy to
blurt "It isn’t about her beauty?") What if the Milwaukee
Brewer brass had hired the senior Griffey as their new manager? Would
Junior have come here? Think about it.
The collection of current major
leaguers whose fathers played is not limited to the Griffeys. I have
several baseball cards of players whose kids now play in the big leagues.
The Brewers needed catching help this off-season. So why not hire Fred
Kendall (former San Diego Padres catcher) as a coach to lure his son
Jason. Jason Kendall plays for the Pirates and is regarded as one of the
best up-and-coming receivers.
I don’t know if Pedro Martinez’
father ever played or coached. But we need starting pitching
"badly." At the very least, hire Pedro’s pop to be a bench
coach. Remember Tom Grieve? Probably not (If you must know, he played in
the 70’s and was not very good). His son Ben is the Oakland A’s
brightest young star.
During the overhaul of their
organization this off-season, the Brewers hired several recognizable
ex-players to fill their coaching staff: Davey Lopes, Chris Speier, Jerry
Royster, Rod Carew, and Bo Apodaca. They appear to be welcome additions,
but what are their kids doing?
I admit that my thinking here is
unconventional, if not bordering pure lunacy. Before you commit this (or
me) to a rubber room, remember the play "Waiting for Godot."
In that infamous drama, Godot never comes. But that doesn’t prevent the
two pathetic, naïve, characters that inhabit the barren stage from
talking about Godot’s potential arrival. Reds’ GM Jim Bowden’s wait
wasn’t nearly as futile, as attested by his successful heist of baseball’s
most prized superstar.
This gives me an idea for a new play. I’ll
call it "Waiting for A-Rod.". (named for Alex Rodriguez,
former Griffey teammate and the next big free agent). The first act of the
play will be coined: "What is
his father doing these days?"
Ready, set, ACTION !!
