Another Euripidean Hero Bites The Dust

"O ye sons of men, victims of a thousand idle errors, why teach your countless crafts, why scheme and seek to find a way for everything, while one thing ye know not nor ever yet have made your prize, a way to teach them wisdom whose souls are void of sense?" -- Theseus decrying Hippolytus' alleged act.

While it seems that common sense may well be one of the last virtues awarded today's athletes in their carefree world of sundry temptations, with modern public relations machines and sometimes seedier mechanisms employed to protect them, today's athlete, like today's politician, has plenty of resources with which to battle.

Johnette Howard, in her typically incisive manner, broke the yolk of the story in her Sunday column on Fixers. The job of a Fixer was probably best summed up by Harvey Keitel, playing "the Wolf" in Pulp Fiction, when he noted that "I'm here to tell you what to do. And if self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better fuckin' do it and do it quick. I'm here to help." Howard's source, who is "someone in the sports management business", ominously noted that

"Private investigators have been digging for information. Stories will be leaked and spun by both sides. Surrogates for Bryant will be given "talking points" to convey his message (so far, that's been that Bryant may be guilty of the sin of adultery but not a crime). Noting Bryant shaved his goatee and hair since taking his police mug shot, B. said, "That was deliberate. You want him to look different." His superior media contacts, his powerful friends, will be exploited. Money will be spent on focus groups."

This sports management source also admitted that "Honestly, I feel sorry for this family and this woman," B. said of Bryant's 19-year-old accuser. "Because they have no idea what's about to hit them. Everything is choreographed. Everything is orchestrated."

Lo and behold, the following day, what's screaming across the headlines? Kobe's Accuser's Secret Is 'Overdose'

So before anyone goes running down the aisles screaming about people being tried in the media, it should be remembered that spin is spun in both directions. Today's yellowcake is tomorrow's revisionist history. The currency of today's protestations of innocence is essentially worthless. We've all been lied to in the media over and over again by spinmasters, politicians, athletes and even media members themselves. So it is with cynical fatigue that we hear yet another accusation defended with assasinations of character, however subtly drawn, and are treated yet again to words which might famously come back to haunt the utterer, like "I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinsky", OJ Simpson pleading "absolutely, 100 percent not guilty," or Marion Barry's infamously creative "Bitch set me up" defense.

Now, as to the case of Hippolytus, yet another man accused of a heinous crime who protests his innocence to no avail, the play begins with Aphrodite, goddess of beauty, love and sexual rapture declaring her power over all of mankind. Not quite "all" mankind, as it were, because Hippolytus rejects her advances. As punishment, Aphrodite places a curse on Hippolytus' stepmother, Phaedra, which involves her falling in love with and lusting after him. Phaedra's dirty little secret is revealed to Hippolytus, who is grossed out and rebuffs his stepmother's advances. Phaedra is humiliated and kills herself but first, tries to save face by accusing poor Hippolytus of trying to rape her.

When his father, Theseus, gets wind of all this, of course, he confronts Hippolytus, who defended himself against the accusations by claiming, in order, (here are possible defenses Team Kobe might consider):

(1) he is a virgin;
(2) Phaedra was not so exceptionally beautiful as to tempt him;
(3) he prefers his honored but easy position to the difficulties of kingship;
(4) he validates his innocence by his solemn oaths to the gods.

None of this placates his father Theseus, who acts as judge and jury, and curses him, asking Poseidon to kill Hippolytus, which he does, by frightening Hippolytus’ horses, and having them drag him to his death. Aphrodite's involvement is essential to the plot of Hippolytus: without her desire to punish Hippolytus there would be no causal link between Hippolytus' lifestyle and his fate. Like Kobe, Hippolytus was supposed to be a pretty chaste guy, incapable of such an act. We know all along he didn't rape Phaedra and yet, in the end, it makes no difference because Hippolytus is not believed. While Kobe probably won't be dragged to his death by his own horses, his sneaker and soda sponsors might drag him to his death as an icon of advertisers.

Meanwhile, ESPN's David Aldridge asks the valid question of Kobe's image: "...is this Kobe Bryant? The one I know? And then I think: What do I know about Kobe Bryant?"

What does in mean in contrast to the squeaky-clean image, the bright smile, the cash, the charisma, three championship rings, the beautiful wife and a baby daughter? While a felony assault charge might seem apropos for a certain few athletes given the curse of their own self-created images, the crime Kobe is charged with merely underscores not how little we know about the images we fall in love with, nor the fallibility of human beings regardless of status and position, but how barren an image is to begin with as it relates to reality.

At least the Greeks had the sense to manifest their Gods with the qualities of their own human flaws.

For all the registrations of shock when these accusations first came to light, one wonders which was more shocking: the possibility that Kobe Bryant sexually assaulted a woman or the image of the tell tale splintering of the corked bat held by Sammy? Personally, it's ho-hum for me: another athlete accused of a felony. But Sammy using a corked bat, now, that simply goes beyond the realm of credibility. Perhaps to avoid suspension, Sammy should have blamed the bat for corking itself or could have run down the character of the bat, noting how many strikeouts he'd suffered with that bat or how many homeruns that bat had twisted just inches foul..."that bat is a whore for attention! You should see how it flirts with the other bats when I leave it in the bat rack alone!"

*****

Speaking of athletes and issues of character, in light of the upcoming Yankees/Red Sox series and because I am in the middle of Carl E. Prince's excellent book Brooklyn's Dodgers, the Bums, The Borough and the Best of Baseball, I was reminded that the infamous headhunter Roger Clemens will not be available to turn this weekend's series at Fenway into his own personal beanball-fest.

It appears memory of headhunters is either fuzzy or non existent because after reading some of Prince's book, Roger Clemens seems like small potatoes compared to The Barber, Sal Maglie. According to Prince, Maglie's best pitch was the beanball which was not meant merely to frighten batters, but to raise their rabid male anger. Speaking of the Brooklyn Dodger lineup, Maglie boasted

"down he'd go, and all the Dodgers would start screaming. They'd get so damned angry they'd try to kill me with homeruns -- be the big heroes -- and they'd break their backs swinging at bad balls."

Unlike Clemens, Maglie didn't always get off scot-free. Knocked down twice by Maglie at the beginning of the 1951 season, Prince recounts, "Robinson succeeded in forcing Maglie to field a bunt near the base line; he body-blocked the pitcher into foul territory. For a brief moment, Maglie came up looking for a fight, but as Robinson advanced, Sal quickly took refuge behind the umpire."

Four years later, in 1955, after being decked by Maglie, "Robinson bunted and, head down, chugged into first base. Thinking Maglie was covering, Robbie threw a crushing football block. It seriously injured Giants secondbaseman Davey Williams, who covered first when Maglie wouldn't put himself within range of Robinson."

Lastly, Maglie wouldn't merely throw the usual brush-back inside pitches. His were unmistakable beanballs. They sailed behind the batter's head so that the involuntary flinch backward was likely to result in a serious skulling. Ironically enough, Maglie joined the Dodgers in time to help the team win the 1956 pennant where he taught Don Drysdale the uses of the beanball. For his troubles, Maglie eventually had a stadium named after him. No, not Beanball Field but Sal Maglie Field, in Niagra Falls. Unfortunately, the stadium was only around for four years before it was demolished in 1999. For some, fame will never seem as lasting as notoriety.


*****

AL Wildcard Standings:

Boston 59-40 .596 ----
Oakland 55-43 .566 3.5
Toronto 52-48 .520 7.5
Anaheim 50-48 .510 8.5
Chicago 50-50 .500 9.5

NL Wildcard Standings

Philadelphia 55-43 .667 -----
Arizona 54-46 .540 2
Los Angeles 52-47 .525 3.5
Florida 52-48 .520 4
St. Louis 51-49 .510 5
Chicago 50-49 .505 5.5
Montreal 50-50 .500 6