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PAGE 4B
THE BANKS COUNTY NEWS
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 16, 2008
Diamond Talk
Down the Stretch
Major League Baseball at Global Summit
Decade to reflect on meeting a racing hero
A rather shocking event
in major league
baseball took place
recently: the opening game of
two MLB teams took place sev
eral thousand miles from their
respective ballparks. The Boston
Red Sox and Oakland Athletics
opened the 2008 season in Japan.
I’ve always had this idea that,
given the opportunity, baseball
could bind the people of the
world together, and now we
may be moving closer to the
moment of truth. Shortly before
the BoSox and A’s made their
way to Japan to open the 2008
season, Joe Torre escorted the
entire Los Angeles Dodger team
to China to parade players from
America’s favorite pastime in
front of our perceived newest and
most threatening military foe. I
stared for several minutes at a
photograph taken atop the Great
Wall of China with the Dodgers
in uniform. If you look carefully,
you can see dozens of Chinese
in the background waiting to get
to the players for autographs and
pictures. We’re not in Kansas any
more, Dorothy.
Unlike China, Japan has a long
history of baseball. After the
United States forced Japan to
open her doors to the world for
trade in the mid 19th century,
baseball (the game) spread to the
land of the rising sun like wild
fire. Ironically, while we’re really
not sure of exactly when baseball
was conceived here in America
or who precisely came up with
the game (we know it was not
Doubleday), we do know that
in 1873 the first semi-pro team
- made up of railroad workers -
was organized in Japan.
Japanese people embraced
baseball with a passion. Leagues
based upon the American
model were estab
lished under the
auspices of the
Nippon Professional
Baseball League
(NPB). Lately, MLB
and NPB have been
interacting more
(really forced to
as more and more
professional players
on each side of the
Pacific keep migrat
ing back and forth). However,
all is not well with the cozy new
relationship: the NPB grumbles
each time the Americans come
and play, claiming MLB keeps
robbing them of their best play
ers - sort of an international farm
team.
Consider this: with the intro
duction of baseball in China
(and here I admit it has only
been introduced), about one-fifth
of the world’s population now
knows the sport. China’s popu
lation is about four times that
of America’s. Instead of three
divisions in two leagues, one
could organize six divisions in
four leagues. Imagine a ballpark
a block away from where Mao
used to rule the country with
an iron fist. Imagine the com
munist party unable to influence
an umpire who has just called a
third strike.
Baseball has slowly migrated
into several other areas around
the globe. More and more MLB
players are coming from Central
America and the Caribbean,
which leads us to Gary
Sheffield’s comments last year
concerning the power MLB holds
over Latino players. Although his
remarks may have been offensive
to some, what he said was some
what true. The economics of the
game—attracting Latino players
for less and treating them
differently—is real. This
is part of the globaliza
tion of the free market
and is an example of the
catalyst of what difficult
times the American blue-
collar worker has experi
enced since the passage of
NAFTA.
From the streets of
Havana, Cuba came Yunel
Escobar. In the streets of
Havana, Cuba remain hundreds,
perhaps thousands, of great ball
players-in-waiting who would
trade their soul for a chance to
play in America’s major leagues.
These hundreds or thousands are
hungry (figuratively and literally
speaking) and will play for the
league’s minimum salary. This
is part of the international farm
system I spoke of earlier. This is
reality.
The business side of baseball
is real and unforgiving. Fans
may easily forget that base
ball clubs are franchises which
cost big dollars and must turn
a profit. This business reality
requires general managers to
devise an elaborate system of
player development, confined by
budgeting constraints, and con
founded, ironically, by a player’s
outstanding year which, at the
same time, helped the team’s
profit line. International players
are a gift from the great god of
baseball. They are every GM’s
dream—an inexhaustible source
of talent who will play for a frac
tion of what homegrown players
demand. We’re most definitely
not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
Banks County resident John
Rieken is an avid baseball fan.
E-mail comments about this col
umn to jrieken@windstream.net.
john w.
rieken
www.mainstreetnews.com
I t’s really hard for me to
believe it’s been 10 years,
but it has been.
It was 10 years ago this month
that one of the most memorable
moments in my life occurred.
It was 10 years ago this month
that Adam Petty became the first
known fourth generation profes
sional athlete, when he made
his professional racing debut in
an American Speed Association
event. He did it at my hometown
track, Peach State Speedway near
Jefferson.
I was about a month away
from graduating college, and
had traveled down to visit with
my grandfather the day before
the race. Being big racing fans,
and admirers of the Pettys, we
decided to go over to the track to
check things out.
It was pole day, and while the
stands were empty, the pits were
full of cars and teams getting
ready for the race. After qualify
ing, we were able to go down to
the pits, and immediately headed
for where Adam’s team had
parked.
Now, back in those days, my
hair was long and I always wore
it pulled back in a ponytail. As
we moved towards the team’s
hauler, Adam spotted me, saw
my hair, and said “Dadgum, your
hair is longer than daddy’s!” He
asked us to hang on while he
went to get Kyle.
When they returned, you would
have thought we were all long
lost friends. We stood there and
talked about racing, history, and
the future.
My grandfather shared the story
of meeting Adam’s great-grandfa
ther, Lee Petty, earlier in the year,
and telling him he didn’t like
him when he was racing because
“He won
in them
dadgum old
Plymouths,
and them
dadgum
old Olds-
a-mobiles,
and I’m a
Ford man!”
Kyle and
Adam got a
kick out of
the story, and asked if we would
be back for the big race the next
day. I was supposed to work, so
I didn’t think I’d be able to make
it.
“Man, you’ve got to be here,”
Kyle said. “Please come back
for the race tomorrow.”
Well, that was as good as a
royal command for me. There
was no way we were going to
miss the big show the next day.
On race day, my grandfather
and I arrived early, and got our
usual seats just under the tower
in the grandstands.
We watched as Kyle and
Richard Petty made their way out
on the starting grid for pictures
with Adam.
The old ASA circuit, back in
those days, always opened up the
gate to the front stretch an hour
before the race to allow fans to
meet the drivers one on one. We
made our way down, and went
immediately to see Adam. After
speaking with him for a moment,
Adam asked us to hang around
near him for a bit. As we stood
there, a Petty crewman came up,
and asked if we would come with
him. It seemed Kyle had sent
him to find us, and wanted us
to hang out with him and “The
King” before the race.
Holy cow!
When we got back to where the
Petty family was parked, Kyle
instantly grabbed my hand, and
said “Man, I spotted you out in
the parking lot. I started to stop
and pick you up when I was on
my way to pick up Daddy at the
airport.”
Meanwhile, Richard Petty
walked right up to my grandfa
ther, and said, “So, this is the
Ford man I’ve been hearing so
much about!” My grandfather
introduced himself, and Richard
asked, “So, sir, do you live
around here?”
My grandfather, who once
picked cotton in the field that
the track stands on, drew himself
up, pointed around the track, and
said “Richard, I’ve peed on every
rock in this field.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever
seen somebody laugh as hard as
Richard laughed.
It’s a priceless moment in time
for me. I stood there surrounded
by people that I had admired
for years, and that I continue to
admire.
Not only that, on a special
moment for the family, the Pettys
were kind enough to extend the
moment to a couple of people
that they really didn’t know from
the man in the moon.
That’s what makes that family
so special. And that’s a lesson
that the current racing scenes
desperately need to learn if they
want to keep their fans with them
in the long run.
For me, that night on April 11,
1998, is a moment that will live
forever.
Brandon Reed is a reporter for
MainStreet Newspapers. E-mail
comments about this column to
brandon@mainstreetnews.com.
brandon
reed
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