Mellinger Minutes: Live sports are back; should the Chiefs take your money right now?
I watched live sports last weekend, and it was awesome and weird and a little creepy but overwhelmingly awesome.
I want to talk about that now.
Bundesliga, Germany’s top soccer league and one of the world’s best, played games last weekend in front of empty stands. It was the first major professional team sport televised in America in months.
I’m more of an MLS and Premiere League guy when it comes to my soccer, but desperate times are here so some friends and I decided to adopt Borussia Dortmund as our own. Some of them set alarms for this early game. I’d celebrated a birthday the night before, so I caught up in like the 30th minute.
All the same, it put my mind in a thousand different directions. You feel a little bit of a rush, then realize it’s eerie, because guys on the bench and the people working TV cameras and all sorts of other non-players in the stadium are wearing masks.
The noise comes not from crowds chanting or from spontaneous celebration but from the players’ and coaches’ voices echoing off metal bleachers. You hear on-field communication in a way you never would normally. It looks and sounds like a scrimmage. So, like I said. Weird and a little creepy.
But also awesome! Because these are actual world-class athletes playing their chosen sport at full speed, the unscripted drama of rising stars showing their talent and aging veterans holding on and role players chasing their moment.
I’d forgotten so many of the subtle joys of watching sports: trying to diagnose the next move, trying to think ahead with the players about the right moment to strike, rolling your eyes at a bad call, seeing the big play and wanting this replay, then that one, then this other one from a different angle. Appreciating the athleticism, and the symphony of movement required by teammates.
So, like I said. Awesome!
I wanted to watch for all the obvious reasons, because I’ve been starved for this kind of thing, but also as a bit of an experiment. This is the new normal. Or, at least, the next year or so’s presumed normal.
I’m curious how the show — that’s what sports are, they’re a show — would’ve felt with crowd noise or songs piped in. I’m sure some leagues or teams will do that. I appreciated that the Dortmund game was done organically. It felt right, at least for the first one.
Players were instructed to not high-five or touch each other during goal celebrations. That was weird, and at least to me a little over the top since those same players are grappling for every corner kick or keeper’s punt (and definitely touched each other during celebrations anyway). We’re all guessing.
It was impossible not to wonder what baseball will look like without fans, and (presumably) eventually football. It’s impossible (at least for someone with a weird job like mine) not to wonder how these games will be received.
For a lot of us, they’ll be received like returning war heroes. I can’t wait, and not just professionally. I miss so much about games.
But I also understand that I love sports more than most, and that I’ve built more of my life around sports than could be recommended in good conscience.
So while I wonder how many casual fans have realized they’re actually more passionate fans, I also wonder how many casual fans have realized they don’t need the games. I wonder how many have developed new routines, and new interests. I wonder how many of them will never come back.
I can’t wait to find out.
This week’s reading recommendation is Mack Lamoureux: “Dear Lord, I miss watching sports in a bar,” and the eating recommendation is the chips and queso from Tiki Taco.
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OK, here’s the show.
All good here, man.
Every day feels like a battle between this weird form of claustrophobia that a lot of us have and a conscious effort to remember the positives.
It’s kind of sad how little my life has changed in the lockdown. I mean, professionally it’s ground-shifting. Obviously. There are a few silver linings, but they’re outweighed. By a lot.
But personally, really, the only major differences are that we’d have gone to a Royals game or three by now, there’s no sitter coming over on a Friday night so my wife and I can go out, and the kids can’t play with their friends in the same way.
That’s ... not drastically different.
I’m trying to keep in mind that the kids will probably remember this as one of the best times of their lives. I’m trying to keep in mind that three months ago, if you’d have asked what I wanted more of, I’d have said time. And here it is.
Life has slowed down, and it’s an opportunity to see my wife in a new way, connect with our kids in a new way, develop new routines, all these things.
I’m trying to keep in mind that while all of us can’t wait for the other side, when we’re able to go to concerts or stadiums or restaurants without a second thought, there will also be some parts that we’ll miss.
I’m trying to keep in mind that we’ll always remember how we handled this, and I am dead set on making sure I remember we handled it as well as possible.
Most of all, I’m trying to keep in mind how lucky I am. My friends and family have been relatively unaffected. I still have my job and my health. My wife is healthy, and still has work that interests her. Our kids are happy. Our list of complaints would not be very convincing.
So, anyway. That’s undoubtedly more than you asked about.
But, more importantly, how are you doing? How is everyone?
This speaks to my soul, Wes.
We talked a little about this on the Border Patrol, but when everything was getting postponed or canceled my initial reaction was about what it would do to my job. Like, what the hell do I do now?
I’m still trying to figure that out — though I do have a project coming this week that I’ve been working on for weeks and am excited to show you guys — but I’ve also been struck by how much I miss having baseball in my life.
The last few years, we’ve made a habit of going to the Royals’ second home game as a family. Obviously I’m working the home opener, that’s a non-negotiable, but we’ve always been able to go to the second game. I want mini traditions like that for our kids as they grow up.
We’d have probably gone to another game or two by now, picking up pizza or sandwiches on the way and playing catch in the parking lot before we go in.
Games would be on most every night, and on the weekends, and the kids are starting to get in that age range where they know some of the players and ask questions.
I miss the comprehensively idiotic text threads with friends about whether Mondesi will be a star, or the dozen ways Arsenal screwed up the last match, or who’s taking whom in the fantasy football draft.
Hopefully that last part will start soon, but you get the point.
You won’t hear me brag about much. But I do think I keep a reasonable head about where sports fit in the broader picture, and I want to be doubly sure this isn’t misunderstood as some sports-starved moron who doesn’t care about 90,000 or so American deaths in a global pandemic because he wants to be able to watch baseball highlights from the night before.
But, gosh dangit. I miss sports desperately.
Yeah. So, this.
We’re all guessing, right? Can we at least agree on that? Somehow we’ve created a world in which a disease has been politicized and polarized, but can we at least all recognize that everyone is guessing?
The data is a guess. The guidelines are guesses. Tests are unreliable, symptoms often either don’t show up or don’t show up for days after infection. You might’ve already had COVID-19 and don’t know it. Maybe I’ve had it and didn’t know. Meanwhile, a healthy neighbor may contract it and be dead within days.
How could we be sure about anything?
So I don’t mean any of this to disparage the smart and hard-working people trying to keep us safe. They’re doing the best they can.
But some of the ideas just don’t make sense.
It sounds silly, and maybe it is, but spitting is embedded in baseball. Pitchers are constantly licking their fingers, or rubbing the ball with a little saliva. Batters step out of the box and adjust their gloves, spit, take a light swing. I just don’t know how you regulate that.
We mentioned this at the top but the German soccer league banned players from touching during goal celebrations, but of course players touched during goal celebrations and besides — they sure as hell touch during normal play.
There are stories of restaurants asking dine-in customers to wear masks except when eating or drinking and how exactly does that work? How many seconds is enough that you need to have the mask on? What do you do about conversations between bites? And if tables are distanced, and the person across the table is your spouse, what’s particularly dangerous about talking without a mask?
Maybe a lot!
Maybe nothing.
We’re just all ... guessing.
One more time: This isn’t a call for precautions to be dropped. We should all be careful, and we should all understand that these inconveniences can literally save lives, even if we’ll never be able to know for sure or how many.
But there’s also a reasonable balance that needs to be made. It’s just not realistic to expect a country of 330 million people with all sorts of different values and perspectives and risks and geographical influences to stop living their lives for the 12-18 months it’ll take for a vaccine.
Where that middle ground is, man, I don’t know. Nobody does. Actually, a better way to say it is that your middle ground is different than mine, which is different than your neighbor’s, which is different than my best friend’s, and so on.
I have no idea who’s right.
But I do know as soon as we have baseball again we’re also going to have spitting baseball players. That’s a hill I will die on.
Yep. This too.
We’ll have some reporting on this, but again: We’re all guessing.
I’ve had a different view of this now, obviously, with kids just getting into the ages where they’re involved in leagues. It’s been interesting to watch. The cynic in me notices that the free league was the first to cancel, and the one that’s always seemed to operate most as a profit generator was the most stubborn.
But I’m also appreciative of anyone working to maintain or create opportunities for kids.
I know there are T-ball and baseball leagues putting together sort of a youth equivalent of MLB’s return-to-play proposal: kids can’t share helmets or bats, a limit on how many spectators can watch, and parents asked to be on the field to help kids distance.
I know there are high school basketball camps that are being canceled or severely altered. My understanding is that most if not all school gyms are closed for camps, but at least some schools are willing to have coaches meet with smaller groups of kids.
That all seems reasonable to me, but there are probably some unintended consequences or downsides to this that I’m not thinking about.
There’s such a wide spectrum of how people are digesting this. Some parents aren’t going to have their kids anywhere close to an organized game. Some are starved for the action and social connection. Who among us can’t understand where each is coming from?
As with most things, I hope we can recognize that we’re all guessing and respect that other parents are dealing with things that we’re not. Let’s give each other a break where we can.
Gordon remains — or, at least last season, remained — an effective player, particularly defensively.
He turned 36 in February, but keeps in great shape and had his highest OPS since 2015. So it’s hard to guess when his career’s expiration date will hit.
I feel strongly about this: It’s not up to any of us to decide when an athlete or coach or anyone else should retire. That’s up to them.
If Luke Keuchly wants to walk away when he’s in his 20s and a Pro Bowler, cool, good for him. If Raul Ibanez wants to play into his 40s, understanding he’s gone from All-Star to glorified assistant coach, cool. Good for him, too.
You asked if I were him.
My instinct is that I’d probably retire. I could see myself looking at a 13-year career without a drop of regret, of swelling with pride at my role in pushing a lost franchise to the top, and be content with letting someone else try to do the next cycle. I think I’d see $117 million in career earnings and know my family will be fine for generations, and that this is time I’d never get back with young kids.
But, there’s another side to it, obviously. Thirty-six is absurdly young to retire from a normal job. He has the rest of his life to be a father and a husband, and only a finite period of time to be a major league baseball player. If walking away now means he’d have regrets at 45 or whatever, then how could someone look at playing as a mistake?
This surprises me, but I actually believe Jordan.
He’s basically a basketball psychopath, so it’s hard to put anything by him, but I’m going to need more than conspiracy theories to believe he made himself that hungover the night before a critical NBA Finals game.
Meanwhile, it’s entirely believable that some Jazz fans* put something in the pizza to make whoever ate it** sick.
* There’s nothing particularly unique about Jazz fans here. I’d believe the same thing about Seahawks fans, or Chiefs fans, or Cowboys fans, or Bengals fans, or any fans.
** One thing they sort of gloss over is there’s no way the pizza place knew exactly who the pizza was going to, right? Like, when they called in the order and gave a name they didn’t say “Michael J.” So it’s possible that the teenagers working the pizza joint did it as a prank, without knowing or believing they would get Jordan sick.
Now, yes, I do think it’s somewhat strange that the greatest basketball player on the planet didn’t have any better option than calling some random Salt Lake City pizza joint the night before a game.
Like, you’re telling me the Bulls didn’t have a sandwich to spare?
That’s a whiff though, to be fair, not as much of a whiff as Nike letting Jordan wear 14-year-old sneakers that made his feet bleed. That’ll be a top 10 takeaway for me from this whole documentary.
I remember watching that game live, and those shoes are so damn cool, but I assumed Nike (a multibillion dollar company) would’ve provided Jordan (the man who single-handedly made them a multibillion dollar company) with a pair of shoes that looked like the old ones on the outside but felt and performed like the new ones on the inside.
I mean, honestly. How does this happen? Who thought this was a good idea?
Get the franchise a workable pair of sneakers.
When his playing career is officially over, Alex will do whatever the hell he wants to do.
That could be nothing — he’s made several fortunes, and has young kids.
That could be politics — he’s talked about that with some friends.
That could be charity — his work helping foster kids has been repeatedly recognized as one of the country’s most effective.
That could be business — he graduated (in 2 1/2 years) from Utah with an economics degree.
Or, like you said, maybe he wants to stay in the game as a coach. He checks all the boxes — he’s wicked smaht, a natural leader, humble in the right ways and willing to work.
So, his options are endless. And he should do whatever makes him happiest, or whatever gives him the right purpose.
But, honestly — and maybe this is going to sound weird — but I’d be a little disappointed if he became a coach.
I don’t mean this to diminish any coaches. But there are already loads of talented people trying to get into that profession, and his spot would be taken by someone capable of doing the job.
I sincerely believe that Smith is different. That he has more to offer. That he has a set of skills, talents, and smarts that can have a bigger positive impact on the world than coaching NFL players.
I don’t believe this about many people, let alone athletes, but I believe Smith can affect positive change on the world outside of football. He has everything it takes.
But, again. I wouldn’t blame him if he spent the first five years of retirement with his feet up, eating nothing but nachos and putting on 204 pounds.
I know that some third-party ticket brokers (looking at you, StubHub) have been frustrating for fans wanting refunds for canceled games, and hopefully that mess is cleaned to everyone’s satisfaction soon.
But the Chiefs have promised that if games are canceled or played without fans that ticket, parking, and fees will be refunded. You’ll have an option to use a credit, and if the NFL follows some baseball teams’ lead that credit might include an extra 5% or so.
If you buy from third-party brokers — and, again, I know of several people who are having particular problems with StubHub right now — obviously you’d have to deal with them and their specific policies.
I know some think it’s wrong for the Chiefs and other teams to be taking payments right now, and I understand that perspective. The games might not happen, and even if they do, the teams are putting fans under added financial stress right now by asking or even requiring payments.
I get all that.
I also understand that teams are businesses first and forever, and maybe my standards are too low for them in situations like this, but let the market speak. The Chiefs and other teams wouldn’t be asking for payments if they didn’t have the juice, and they’re doing this with the understanding that it’s every fan’s right to be insulted by the ask and tell them to kick rocks.
The cold truth is that if games are canceled or (more likely) played without fans then teams have found a backdoor way into an interest-free loan.
But, really, my main concern with any of this is that the decision on whether to play games or whether to have empty stadiums is made with health as the only consideration.
If we can have games, hot damn, awesome, I will be there.
If having games means too much added risk and spread, then OK, cool, let’s hold off without worrying about refunding money.
There are arguments to make here. The first baseman gets to do the catch thing between innings, and is often the best hitter on the team. The catcher is involved in the most. The third baseman gets to make those sweet diving plays on hard grounders, and the shortstop gets to dance like a pop star around the sliding baserunner on a double play.
The ace gets unrelenting respect from his teammates for being reliable and pitching deep, and the closer usually throws hard and strikes a bunch of guys out and gets to celebrate after the tightest moments.
But centerfielders are the coolest guys on every team.
They’re the fastest, the best athletes, they cover the most ground and get to make diving plays and catches against the wall and throw out fools trying to tag up or take an extra base.
That speed plays on the other side, too, because there’s nothing quite like the fastest guy on the team rounding a base and trucking forward for more. When they’re thinking about stealing a base they get to dance back and forth with a lead that seems a step too far, but the pitcher can’t do a damn thing about it.
When they make a great play they get to tap their head, hold up a finger or two depending on how many outs there are, and then turn and laugh with a teammate.
Make me a centerfielder, please.
I will answer with a picture:
The only tweak I’d make is that after posting this picture I discovered that in a certain part of the stadium they make helmet tater tot nachos which, holy crap, come on. They are just as delicious as they sound, though I don’t have photographic proof.
I also have to tell this story:
Last year, we went to a game as a family. It must’ve been one of those moments where everyone was hungry and/or needed to go to the bathroom, because we all headed to the concourse.
Our younger son would’ve been 3 at the time, and he can be fiercely independent, which we try to encourage, so he wanted to go to the bathroom by himself. There weren’t many people around, so we trusted him, and we’re sort of standing outside the bathroom door.
We get to talking, and we’re not eyeing the door, and all of a sudden this little guy comes back with (for him) a life size bag of popcorn.
It took a minute to process. We asked what happened:
“I went to the bathroom and peepeed and washed my hands and when I came out I was talking to the lady where they sell hot dogs and she asked if I wanted this popcorn and I said OH YEAH!”
We look, and there’s this woman working the concession stand, waving back and beaming. She said they were going to throw it away if we didn’t take it so, you know, we ended up with a toddler-sized bag of popcorn.
So, I miss popcorn, too.
Ribs are probably the most reliable crowd pleaser in my arsenal. I’ve started to experiment a little with them, which is fun, and learning new tricks.
I do the 3-2-1 method, but only recently started using a finishing sauce instead of regular sauce at the end. I’d also never considered turning the heat up at the end. That’s harder with a charcoal smoker like the one I use, and I have some reservations about it, but I might try that next time.
I’ve never done lamb. I’d like to try that sometime. This sounds basic, and it is, but I’ve yet to find a chicken method that I’m in love with. Does that sound weird? Maybe it’s weird.
But the first time I did ribs I was blown away. Pulled pork, nailed it. Salmon, I’m on it. Brisket, well, I screwed it up but could tell that was my fault and not the meat or the recipe. But I’ve never been able to do a chicken that I ate and felt stronger than, “Eh, pretty good.”
I’ve never done a turkey, but would love to take a shot for Thanksgiving. Just always seems like there’s enough going on without me spending all that time on something that can just be done in the oven.
Oh, and pizza. Is that weird? Pizza is so cheap and easy to get. But I know people who swear by it, and it seems like a good lockdown project one night with the kids.
Eh, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t take much for you to be ahead of me in COVID-19 cable news consumption. My assumption is it’s more of the same, with people on all sides desperately chasing their preconceived notions?
Am I close?
The main reason I’m including this question here is to climb up on this here soap box about a pet peeve:
There is no capital M Media.
There are thousands of humans of varying degrees of talent and dedication doing varying degrees of their best.
The same could be said of literally any profession, and for every example you can cite of a reporter screwing up a basic fact or ripping her mask off when the cameras are supposed to be off I can get you an example of a brilliant journalist leveraging facts to get even more facts and putting it all together to the best of his or her ability with the help of a smart and dedicated team.
We can all find whatever we’re looking for in the moment by going to the usual suspects, but as much as that includes one side of the political spectrum on Drudge Report or Rush Limbaugh and the other on Slate or Rachel Maddow it also includes cold facts in the middle or from authorities like the CDC.
I get really tired of the Blame Media game, but not as tired as I get of the Media vs. Media game, where Fox talks about “mainstream media” like they don’t have an enormous following of their own and sites like BuzzFeed or the Huffington Post cherry-pick the worst moments of conservative media, all of them often seeming to feed the business model with this mutually dependent and absolutely counterproductive cycle where we dig in on either side and stop listening to anything that doesn’t confirm what we already believe.
I should probably apologize to Chris here because there’s an almost zero percent chance that this is the kind of answer he was looking for but it’s the only one I can think to give.
I love when journalism serves the purpose of informing the public on important issues, and cringe when it falls into this silly cycle of blaming the other side, knowing damn well the game they’re playing isn’t helping anything other than their own ratings.
Am I the only one who feels liberated on this?
Like, three months ago, if it was a Tuesday night and I wanted to have a Tank 7 tallboy followed by an old fashioned for no other reason than I made it through a Tuesday you would have fair reason to judge me.
But now?
You’re going to lift your own glass of jet fuel beer and toast my audacity.
I feel free, man.
With the exception of two stints in apartments for a total of six years or so I’ve mowed at least my own lawn since I was about 10. I don’t know why, but I’ve always enjoyed it, even when it was a chore as a kid.
I like the smell, the noise, the way it looks when you’re done. I like having the time for nothing but walking around and listening to whatever the hell you want to listen to. It’s great.
I used to hate edging, and I don’t use the word hate often.
My god it was the worst. The string would wear down whenever you got close to the curb or fence, or the motor was hard to start, there was always a problem.
Then I bought a battery edger and I’m here to tell you it brightened my world and general disposition. I don’t know if the one I have is particularly different, or if I was just using outdated and awful edgers before, but the string rarely needs replaced now.
It starts like a dream, and as long as you’re willing to stick with one company you can buy other tools that use the same chargeable and interchangeable battery. We have the edger, a blower and hedge trimmer. It’s a joyful experience, and one I highly recommend.
This week, I’m particularly grateful for a perfect birthday weekend. We saw some friends, ate some great food, and did some new stuff with the kids and that was all great but the birthday wishes surprised me a little at realizing how much I missed social interaction.
Because I felt like I was getting enough of it. I can be a bit of a homebody anyway, and we see neighbors, I text with friends, talk with coworkers often. I’d assumed that was enough. But it was cool hearing from so many people I otherwise wouldn’t.