HR Derby

In my younger, more innocent days, I loved the derby. I looked forward to the HR Derby more than the actual main event, the All-Star Game. Once I found out what the field would look like, I would try to prognosticate who would hit how many dongs. I even loved Chris Berman chanting "BACK, BACK, BACK, BACK, GONE". I think I'm most embarrassed about the Chris Berman thing, considering I see him as the biggest hack on the Worldwide Leader today. Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux were only half right when they famously figured out that chicks dig the long ball. I can't think of anyone who doesn't dig the long ball.

Over the years, the Derby has lost a little bit of spectacle for me. I don't see the joy that I saw on the faces of the participants years ago, with sluggers like Vlad and Albert Pujols treating the event as just another day in the office. I learned that Chris Berman is, essentially, a buffoon. (BTW, who wants to take bets on the following jokes from Boomer: a Evan Longoria/Eva Longoria joke, a Brawny paper towel man reference, and "there sure wasn't anything Uggla with that swing!") I learned that Joe Morgan basically reads from a script. Step one: mention that I was on the Big Red Machine. Step two: suggest that a player who has already locked a spot in the semis or finals to just quit. It's a goddamn exhibition, you pompous ass. If Justin Morneau quits just because he's guaranteed a spot in the finals, he deserves to be booed mercilessly.

Don't ask me why, but I'm amped for this Derby though, probably for the same reasons why T and others are so down on it. These eight guys represent what's good in this league (yes, even the former junkie, Josh Hamilton). There are no superegos here, just the two best second basemen in baseball (apologies to Ian Kinsler) and two of the most underrated stars of the past five years (that is, if an MVP can be underrated. I think he can. I got your back, Justin). Three future studs that, at this rate, will do the unthinkable and make Tampa, Texas, and Milwaukee exciting again, and the dreamy Grady Sizemore. This isn't your father's home run derby. And this guy couldn't be happier. Chicks may dig the long ball, but I dig the studs of tomorrow aiming for the black in centerfield. I was on the Big Red Machine.