EVERY time America tries to get out, major league baseball keeps dragging her back in. Thanks to Mac,
baseball gets
us back -- againMaybe new commissioner Bud Selig can get Al Pacino to do his famous "Godfather III" speech in a voice-over for the league's next video promotion.
Alec Baldwin did a comedic version on "Saturday Night Live" a few years back that still makes me laugh until I cry. But it can work given the proper production.
We'll open our promo in surlier times with some shots of the 1994 strike. Players and owners will be filing in and out of meetings. There will be a clip or two of business lawyers and hard-line owners telling us that not having a World Series in 1994 was good for the game.
That will be a perfect time to zoom in and take a peek at those greedy goofs in their Brooks Brothers suits smoking their fancy cigars. They view baseball only as a valuable commodity, not as America's game.
Now, let's fast-forward to 1995 and show near-empty ballparks across America after the strike was settled. We'll need some damning footage of fans hanging over the dugouts and shouting in the ears of selfish players.
THE only strike in baseball should be a swing and a miss. Pickets were designed for the working class. Labor movements at Ford and GM are one thing, but Barry Bonds? Give us a break you spoiled brats.
Now, fade to black.
Sounds of the ballpark are in the background as we go to Mark McGwire's grand slam on the opening day of the 1998 season.
Neptune was once depicted rising out of the ocean and blowing bad weather to the four corners of the Earth to clear the way for Jason and his Argonauts.
That analogy also works for McGwire, who blew the ill-fated winds of the owners and the players union right out of the park with 62 mighty swings.
It's similar to what Babe Ruth did 70-some years ago when his homer binge helped Americans forget about the 1919 Black Sox scandal and the heart-felt words, "Say it ain't so, Joe. Say it ain't so."
Ruth became an American hero of mythical proportions. Roger Maris discovered that after fate cast him as the man to break the home-run record of 60 set by Ruth in 1927.
McGwire was never mired in those Ruthian footsteps. His fate was not only to shatter the most recognized American sports record of all, but to save the game from itself.
That's an unenviable task for a man who once played at Rainbow Stadium for Southern California (1984). Did he leave any of the local fans lucky enough to see him 14 years ago with any hints of his eventual greatness?
WE can pose this question in our promotional video with a shot of him standing on first base in his USC uniform.
And then move forward with pictures of McGwire looking to the heavens and patting his heart in a tribute to Maris after tying the record, and again after setting the mark the next night.
There will still be some cries of anger directed at the owners and players for nearly destroying a game we invented, then perfected over the last 100-odd years. But they will be distant and few, thanks mostly to McGwire.
Granted, David Wells threw a perfect game for the New York Yankees, who might set a modern-day record for most wins in a season. And the Cubs' Kerry Wood and Sammy Sosa provided fans with a thrill or two.
But our video must close with one final swing by McGwire. And if Pacino isn't too busy that weekend, we'll ask him to enter stage right and exit stage left as McGwire's last homer finds the seats and remind us that every time America tries to get out, major league baseball keeps dragging her back in.
Paul Arnett has been covering sports
for the Star-Bulletin since 1990.