Perfection in Detroit

Tigers baseball, for me, is a passion and a retreat. I freely acknowledge that I care too much, that it's just a game, and that in my love for a sport played by millionaire privateers, I'm being maniuplated by corporate sports interests who want my money. And yet, I'm fine with that. And I have the great fortune to be married to a woman who also loves baseball and her Tigers, who understands the little things about the game, and who wears her heart on her sleeve when it comes to being a fan.

Last night, from about the fourth inning on, we were riveted to the unfolding perfection of Armando Galarraga's gem. From the seventh inning on, we didn't leave the room, and by the ninth, we were standing in our own living room like we were back in our old seats at Comerica Park. Austin Jackson's catch to start the top of the ninth was greeted in our home much like the family of a condemned man would greet an 11:59 call from the governor.

The intial numb shock of the ruling at first base with two outs quickly gave way to disbelief, anger and then just a deep, deep sadness. The look on Galarraga's face -- a split second of sheer joy and elation in the moment when he knew -- KNEW -- he had completed a perfect game with the ball nestled perfectly in his own mitt, followed by the slack jaw and then the wry smile -- that look haunts me.

Yes, Galarraga was denied his place in the record books. But he was denied something even greater -- the moment of transcendence. Even if the league decides to overturn the call and say, "Perfect!" there is no way to wind back the clock and and allow Armando the long adulation he earned and deserved on that night.

Teresa and I were there -- yes, really, we were there, in Comerica Park -- the night Justin Verlander threw his glorious no-hitter. It was a slow-building crescendo of emotion through innings of growing possibility. Somewhere in the 4th: Hey, he's working on a no-no (you think but don't say). Somewhere in the 5th, or 6th: You realize almost everybody else around you realizes it too. Everyone is riveted on the action -- every batter, every pitch. There are no beach balls or irrelevant conversations with neighbors. The one oblivious lady who wants everyone to do the wave gets shouted down. There are no bathroom breaks; just raised eyebrows, knowing looks and a ridiculous overappreciation for every tiny step closer to immortality.

Somewhere in the 7th, you start calling loved ones asking, "Are you watching?"

The fans, the players, the umpires, we all know that we are witnessing an attempt at something historic. To be in the park is to be intimately part of the experience. The feeling builds over a couple hours, and it can be almost overwhelming. The beauty of that feeling is so acute because you are constantly hypersensitive to your own awareness that the feeling is ephemeral and could be destroyed in an instant by a bobble, an errant pitch, one swing of the bat. By the 8th inning, your heart almost aches.

When a bid for no-hit or perfect-game history reaches the 9th, it is impossible to be unaware of what is going on. It is the moment of truth and resolution. The denouement of the plot is imminent. And in the moment that the last out is achieved, the storm of emotion that has been brewing explodes like Beethoven's glorious 9th from the hearts and souls of the fans.

THIS is the emotion we seek. THIS is the payoff for all the long hours, days and years of disapointment. THIS is why you are willing to cry. Because every one in a great, great while, baseball's rhythms allow you these moments of transcendence. As the adulation pours forth, a player is able to bask in a moment that he knows, immediately, he has secured his place in history. (Yankee fans, with their smug sense of entitlement and completely undeserved good fortune, could not possibly comprehend the rarity of these moments.)

In the instant that Magglio Ordonez tucked away the last out of Verlander's no-hitter, that eruption enveloped the fans, the teams, and Verlander himself. The PA belted out the famous strains of the theme from "The Natural," and although, yes, it was a little bit schlocky, it was entirely appropriate. We cheered wildly, lustily, and without reservation. My wife and I embraced and our tears flowed with joy. After hours of building anticipation, it was sweet release.

Last night was historic, and yes, it's possible the call could be overturned and the record books could be corrected. Conceivably, Galarraga could yet be awarded his perfect game. But the tragedy of the day is that the world was robbed of that transcendent moment, for Tigers fans, for the teammates, and for Galarraga himself.

And in my mind, it is such a moment, moreso than the line in the record book, that motivates fans and players alike to love this game.

Arizona's new law

If I had any business with/in the state of Arizona, I would boycott them right now. The anti-immigration law passed there usurps federal powers and authorities, and is blatantly racist. The people there may feel justified frustration at the tide of illegal immigrants, but essentially requiring police officers to racially profile people who look like they might be Mexicans goes way too far to solve the problem. And it discriminates against a good number of legal immigrants and American citizens, who find themselves suddenly in the position of proving they belong where they belong.

The anti-immigrant movement generally is a cover for racism both blatant and subtle. Blatant, in that it appeals to depends on that sizeable sliver of America which is openly hostile to others based on the color of their skin; Subtle in that it also appeals to people who are feeling discomfort and fear related to the widely-reported lawlessness across the border.

The truth is, that America is stronger becuase of its immigrant populations, both "legal" and "illegal", and its multi-cultural identity is a huge strategic advantage in a globalized world. Unlike any other nation, the United States draws people from every other corner of the globe. That fact alone gives the lie to all those who talk in doom and gloom terms about America's future. The infusion of energy, cultural ties, youth and hope that these immigrants represent is priceless.

Focusing just on the most apparent costs of illegal immigration blinds many people to the benefits. Yes, there are some traffickers and criminals among them. Yes, there are costs to social services, from police to hospitals to schools. Yes, those costs should be shared by the federal government. But that certainly isn't the whole picture.

The long and short of it is, a lot of Americans just need to come to terms with our country's multi-cultural future, because we are already living in a multi-cultural present -- even if they refuse to admit it.

Screaming from this empty room
Give me a sign

The following was lifted from Scot's Facebook:

"Last night, for the first time, Liam reached into his book basket and grabbed a book, then holding it up in front of him, he carried it across the room to his Daddy. Then he wanted up on my lap. So we read "The Monster at the End of This Book" together a couple times. It was about the sweetest thing ever."

Hosed

I've just been informed that the premiums for my Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Michigan plan -- which does not cover office visit charges -- is going up 29% this year. This was not a negotiation, it was a unilateral price increase. The rationale given in the letter is that it's the fault of the State of Michigan for requiring BCBSM to cover people rejected by other insurers for pre-existing conditions. As if that wasn't true the previous year.

All I know is that I didn't get consulted on this price change, that it will have no direct effect on the quality of my coverage or health care vs. 2008-09 rates, and that it's utterly ridiculous. No other good or service in our economy saw a 29% price increase.

Time for single-payer national health care.

My sistah's new blog

Go check out "Michigan Mugs and Meals," the product of one insanely talented and creative sister-in-law of mine. It's a blog about locally-sourced foods in the Great Lakes state.

Are we naked apes because we're aquatic?

Elaine Morgan talks about the hasty rejection of the idea that humans spent some of their evolutionary development in an aquatic environment, and makes the case for looking into the question:

Warning: Oil supplies are running out fast

From The Independent:

But the first detailed assessment of more than 800 oil fields in the world, covering three quarters of global reserves, has found that most of the biggest fields have already peaked and that the rate of decline in oil production is now running at nearly twice the pace as calculated just two years ago. On top of this, there is a problem of chronic under-investment by oil-producing countries, a feature that is set to result in an "oil crunch" within the next five years which will jeopardise any hope of a recovery from the present global economic recession, he said.

The expert quoted is the chief economist of the International Energy Agency, so when he talks, I tend to believe him. If you read or heard about "Twilight in the Desert," by Matth Simmons, he essentially said the same thing about four years ago: The oil peak is coming, because new production cannot replace the insanely rich gushers which are now being tapped out. The remaining oil is deeper underwater, lower quality, harder to extract and harder to find. So there's no way to replace the oil which used to come flowing out of Arabian sands like water from a spring.

It ain't about when we run out. It's about when we can't squeeze it out fast enough.

And if we do burn it all, the planet's screwed, so why not make the change now?

Health Care -- an analogy

So there's a massive debate in Washington about how to remake American health care. Our health care "system" -- well, it isn't a system at all, because that would imply some sort of design -- but our health care approach is nothing short of madness. It is a system without price tags, competition or any of the other hallmarks of a free market. And yet this bastardized model is being defended by the right in this country as the "best health care system in the world." Which it demonstrably isn't.

The chief shortcomings of our approach are these: 1) It does not produce acceptable health outcomes; 2) It is obscenely expensive; 3) It is grossly unfair; and 4) It is mind-bogglingly complex. There is a simple reason for this: Health care institutions in the United States, from hospitals to pharmaceutical companies to medical-device suppliers are all constructed around the premise of profitability, not health outcomes. Thus, our health care system fails at producing healthy people, but succeeds wildly in producing profits. This is not mysterious.

Look, I took economics in college, and I get the concept of free markets. I embrace the concept of free markets. I love free markets. They can work wonders. But the idea that we have a "free market" health care system is a fallacy, a lie, a deception. We have a semi-free market in health insurance, which is not at all the same thing.

To illustrate my meaning, I want to give you an analogy. We all need food to live, so imagine that you are going to the supermarket. In reality, supermarkets are vigorously competitive, free-market businesses, which compete ferociously over pennies and nickels. There are numerous competitors, many sellers and buyers, and very transparent information about pricing. Every item has a price tag. You can compare items side-by-side. Good products and brands engender loyalty. People make rational choices on the basis of taste, quality, price, and preference. It works.

Now imagine the supermarket worked like our health care system... How would it be different? You arrive and are issued a cart. Before you are allowed to shop, a stern official-looking person checks your credit. You then must wait your turn to enter the store to fill your cart. About an hour later, you are issued a wrist band and permitted to enter, attended by a highly-educated foodsycian employed by the supermarket. He talks with you sympathetically, and steers you down certain aisles, recommending certaing foods.

Nothing has a price tag on it; it would be difficult to mark each item anyhow, because the price could vary by a factor of 10 depending on which shelf you took it from. A can of mushrooms from the end cap could run you $7, while one from the back of the regular shelf of canned mushrooms might be $.70. Or vice-versa. But you won't know until later... Anyhow, you proceed up one aisle and down the next, with your foodsycian urging certain foods and forbidding others. What he says seems to make sense, but you're not really certain, and he's really not answering your questions about pasta. He won't even let you look at the Mexican foods. You bite your tongue, in part to quell your rising hunger.

At the end of one aisle, he stops you. "Wait here for your frozen-food specialist." You wait here for three months, starting to feel a bit faint. Finally, your specialist arrives, and leads you through the freezer section, adding numerous unlabled products of significant weight to your cart. You don't know what they are, but are told they're very important. You sigh.

Finally, it is time to check out. This part is a breeze: You just put everything in bags and put it in your car and go home. They have been keeping track of your selections the whole time. They're very conscientious about keeping track of what went into the cart. A few weeks later, a bill arrives. This is the first time you get to see the price of any of the items in your cart, most of which you have already consumed. The charge is $10,503. Separate bills arrive a week later for the services of the foodsycian and frozen-food specialist, adding another $2,372 to the tab.

That's pretty hard to take, but things are looking up. You've been offered a job with a new company. You go in to meet the H.R. guy, and he makes his offer: A good salary, and they offer food insurance. They will cover about 3/4 of your food bill, but there are quite a few rules you'll have to follow, and lots of forms to fill out. Anything, you tell him, would be better than the shock of opening another bill for 10 grand! He smiles -- he knows that you'll soon be like the rest of his employees: Kept in the fold through a carrot-and-stick system -- happy to have the job, and terrified of losing that food insurance.

This is our health care system, America. Would you vote for it?

It can be a tough sport all right

Panamanian player Gabriel Gomez "misses the ball" and gets American Robbie Rogers instead in a typically rough game in the Gold Cup series. Ever been kicked by someone with those legs wearing cleats?

The U.S. won the game 2-1 on a goal scored after another Panamanian star kicked an American player in the gut. The U.S. plays in the semi-final game on Thursday.

I thought this was cool

One of the things about the Internet that I continue to find fascinating is its ability to de-mystify things that have long been mysterious. I know: The Web's been around a while now. But in the pre-Web world I cut my teeth in, lots of specialized information was almost completely inaccessible to the non-expert. Now, it's at your fingertips, and at times I still get a thrill of wonder about that.

For example, the radio spectrum. As a regular person, your interaction with the upper reaches of the electromagnetic spectrum was "Channel 12" or "WSGW, AM 790." If you were a curious type, you might associate these "stations" with the idea of a continuum of electromagnetic waves. But did you give thought to where they shoe-horn in the police radio? What else uses those waves?

Now you can see how it's all sliced and diced in exquisite detail. Take a look at this. It's a wall chart from the federal government. Turns out there is an extraordinary amount of stuff going on between Channel 6 and Channel 7 on your teevee. It actually boggles the mind.

Like I said, pretty cool to be able to see this stuff without having to dig around the more arcane corners of your public library.

Peccadilloes

So...

The Democratic governor of New York frequents hookers and resigns. This too, I believe I understand.

But the Republican Senator from Louisiana frequents hookers and doesn't. No comprende.

And the Republican governor of South Carolina freely and annoyingly proclaims his forbidden love for an Argentinian woman, and for the purposes of a final fornication with her, he fled the state under false pretenses without notifying anyone. He does not resign. I guess he didn't break any laws, technically, but I'm somewhat surprised that this did not destroy him.

And the Republican governor of Alaska suddenly decides it's in the best interests of her state if she resigns. While I'm inclined to agree with her, I'm nevertheless surprised by this, too.

I used to understand how these things worked, generally, but I freely confess that I can no longer make any sense of the way Republicans handle these things.

Soccer Contrarian

Well, I've been stewing on the U.S. Soccer loss to Brazil for a few days now. The Americans suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder, and apparently sent two different teams to this Confederations Cup tournament this month in South Africa. For the first two games and the second half of the game against Brazil, the Americans apparently fielded a hapless bunch of half-hearted defeatists. Against Egypt, Spain and for one half against Brazil, they sent a world-class squad of soccer players. I'd like to see more of that squad.

The conventional wisdom I'm seeing browsing U.S. press coverage of this tournament is all touchy-feely happy talk about how the team exceeded expectations, how they played well, how they tried hard, etc. What a load of bull. It's poppycock and I'm not having any of it.

This team needs to understand that they fell apart. Any other interpretation of events is self-deception. In the FINAL of a major international tournament, America's A-Team of experienced international professionals blew a 2-0 halftime lead by playing too defensively and failing to maintain possession of the soccer ball. Everything that was working for the U.S. in the first half stopped working. The primary problem was turnovers, the result of unforced errors and bad tactical decisions. The team's fitness is also a shortcoming, because they looked gassed at the end of 90 minutes, and the Brazilians did not.

If a baseball team coughs up a late-inning lead in the playoffs, or a football team blows a 14-point second-half lead in the Super Bowl, if a hockey team gives up 3 goals in the third period, the healthy reaction is to point some fingers at themselves and account for what went wrong.

All this talk about moral victories and valuable experience enables a loser's mentality -- the idea that the team really had no business being in the final in the first place. But I've seen this team whip Spain and Portugal in major tournaments. I've seen them go toe-to-toe with Italy in a World Cup which Italy ultimately won. So maybe it's time to start getting used to the idea that our boys belong on the world stage, and to hold ourselves to the same standards our opponents do.

From the AP:

"We're at the point where we don't want respect, we want to win," said Landon Donovan, whose goal in the 27th minute gave the United States a 2-0 lead. "There's no guarantee we ever get back to a final game like this, so it's disappointing."

I'm with Donovan. If the U.S. had played 90 minutes of neck-and-neck soccer against Brazil and come up just short at 3-2, maybe I'd buy the sunny talk. But in this game, in an incredible position to win at half-time, the squad fell apart. They ought to be angry about it.

If they're not angry, they're not ready to win.


Photo credit: AFP/Getty via STLToday