Dropping the Ball

I'm going to have a much longer post later today (or tomorrow...or something) about what I did last night. Needless to say, it was AMAZING! But you will hear more about this later. Right now I need to focus some anger on Major League Baseball.

A story posted on Boston.com this morning shows why the organization of baseball has gone completely beyond the pale. Johnny Pesky, the man who actually embodies what it means to be a Boston Red Sox, a man who waited literally his entire life - he was born in 1919 - to see his team win a World Series, a man who has given his life to our Nation, is being barred by Major League Baseball from wearing a uniform and sitting in the dugout.

I still get tears in my eyes when I watch the video of Johnny Pesky, sitting in the clubhouse watching Keith Foulke stab a grounder from Edgar Renteria, and underhand it to Doug Mientkiewicz to bring the World Championship to Boston for the first time in 86 long years. Pesky himself had suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. For years, he was blamed - unjustly - for double-clutching on the relay throw which might have gotten Enos Slaughter at the plate and saved the Red Sox' chances of winning the 1946 World Series. He has spent literally the rest of his life making it up to Red Sox Nation. He hits fungoes in Spring Training. He is a mentor to young players, a skill which is invaluable even in today's game. And for years he has been the face of the organization.

Major League Baseball needs to get its head out of its ass on this one. They have been trying to get Pesky out of the dugout for years to little or no avail. The man is 88 years old. He should be treated like a national treasure for what he has done with his life, not given the bum's rush in the name of "rules and regulations."

P.S. I know I didn't do a wine review this week. My apologies.