How many failed relationships has Dear Abby been involved in that it qualifies
her to dispense advice to the lovelorn?
Does my auto mechanic
know everything there is to know about the Ford engine in my car? And
if so, if he's really an expert, how come I have to keep going back to
him with one problem after another?
Office Depot has a
commercial out right now that claims their crackerjack in-store sales
clerks are all 'experts'. "Need help?" "Ask an expert".
I bet I know at least as much about ball-point pens, manila envelopes
and printer paper as the high school junior in aisle nine that plans on
working just long enough to get that '83 Pinto he's had his eye on. But
I don't claim to be an expert on office supplies.
Watch any financial
program on television and you'll see a parade of so-called stock market
'experts'. Show me one – just one – that has made money during
the current economic downturn. An MBA from Harvard is impressive, but
it doesn't make someone an expert.
And since when does
writing about football for a large sports publication make that writer
an expert on football (or baseball or basketball or hockey)? But they
are touted as such.
I guess in that light,
with all the research I've done and the many times I've written about
a singular subject, I may have to classify myself as a foam finger expert.
This past week, baseball
commissioner Bud Selig and MLBPA executive Donald Fehr received qualified
advice - though I'm sure neither asked for it.
The unsolicited advice
came in the form of a letter and sounded more like a plea rather than
guidance. The letter, composed the weekend of the annual Hall of Fame
induction ceremonies, was signed by forty Hall of Fame members.
The signatures read
like somebody's All-Century team roster: Mays, Ford, Gibson, Killebrew,
Kaline, Robinson and Seaver. Men who, when it comes to baseball, 'know
the ropes', have 'been around the block' and 'seen (and done) it all'.
These guys are experts
in their field. And they've earned the right to have their opinions not
only listened to, but acted upon.
If Ray Romano had
ever been privileged enough to receive advice from Jackie Gleason about
his sit-com, I bet we'd see a couple of 'Bang-Zooms' work their way into
the dialogue. And somebody would eventually be referred to as a 'blabbermouth'.
("You got that Alice, your mother is a Bla-ber-mouth!).
It's like Beethoven
giving piano lessons to Barry Manilow and Elvis showing Brittany Spears
the correct way to thrust her pelvis.
Or Ichiro listening
to Ted Williams talk about the art of hitting and hanging on every word
that comes out of his translator's mouth.
And when Warren Buffett
gives you a stock tip, you call your broker.
It's one thing to
call yourself an 'expert', and it's another altogether when history proclaims
you are one.
A car-dealer-turned-baseball-owner-turned-commissioner
and a lawyer are in the position of determining the fate of Major League
Baseball. And a bunch of guys who know more about the game than anybody
want to help.
It's about time these
two so-called baseball experts gave way to the real thing. It's time for
Bud and Don to shut up, listen and do what they're told.
These great ex-players
have a simple request: "To protect the game we all love and have
given so much to, we suggest you agree to a qualified mediator that will
allow you to find the common ground necessary to avoid a work stoppage".
You'd have to be an
idiot (or a car dealer and a lawyer) to dismiss the sincere thoughts of
the very men that made baseball America's pastime in the first place.
I guess if these guys
were smart enough to realize that, baseball wouldn't be in this mess to
begin with.
On the subject of
totally screwing up the game of baseball, it can be said that Bud Selig
and Donald Fehr are the undisputed experts in their field.
And if there is a
work stoppage this year, you can look for these two clowns in aisle nine
at your local Office Depot.
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