Peloponnesus 2, Baseball 0

Many historians credit the Peloponnesian War with being the beginning of the end of the Greek Empire. The loss to Sparta brought recession, a loss of invincibility and a gradual decline of Greek influence in the world. One of the earmarks of the culture was an obsession with sports. One can easily draw conclusions between America and Greece in the area of art, engineering, political atrophy and moral decay. The obsession with sports grabbed me.

I grew up in Suburban Atlanta in the 50's, which then had no professional sports team. My heroes were the New York Yankee team that fielded Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris and Yogi Berra. I had their autographed pictures all over my room and collected their baseball cards. I played in Little League and revelled in the stories my Dad told me of the days of Ty Cobb and the Atlanta Crackers, a minor league club. It was the mid sixties before Atlanta began to get their major league clubs. First, the theft of the Milwaukee Braves brought baseball to the Big A. It was awesome as a teenager to be able to go out to the Atlanta Stadium and see real major-league teams playing my favorite game. The other pro teams came later. Yawn.

My love of baseball didn't wane until the strike of 1972. It didn't die until the strike of 1981, which actually included 5 work stoppages between 1972 and 1981. I never cared much for basketball, didn't know a thing about hockey and played football until my size threatened my early death at the hands of peers maturing much more rapidly than I. For a while, I switched my attention to football but slowly, over the years, my excitement "ember" slowly died out. I have had friends who feel the same way. Some hang on to the team representing their alma mater out of duty. Some watch just to be knowledgeable around the water cooler at work. But yes, there are avid sports fans around - just go to your local sports bar.

There are many theories about this loss of interest in sports that I apparently share with millions of other Americans. I once read that during my youth, baseball players made about 7 times the average annual income of Joe America. Now, it's somewhere around 770 times. Of course, that's only numbers but it might be symbolic of the disparity between the average baseball player and the average Joe. I used to watch and cheer for guys that I felt were just like me, only much better at baseball. Today, I know that I watch guys whose only similarity to me is that they play a game I did as a child. There's no loyalty to a city or team, no comfort in knowing the team that came so close this year will be back next year. There's the continual off-putting of whining and grumbling over how much money this player, or that player makes. It's all about money and there's nothing left of the spirit of the game.

I did not watch the first minute of this year's World Series. And, I don't feel cheated. I don't know who pitched and barely which teams were in it. I wonder if the recession will hit baseball. I hope so. I'd love to see the dissembling of the machine it has become. Wouldn't it be grand to sit in the stands and see guys playing for the sheer love of the game? The grit and grime of competition in America's pasttime without the grandiosity of Big Business? Well, maybe it will come and maybe it won't. The Atlanta Stadium is gone. Worse, Yankee Stadium is coming down and with it, for me at least, the last vestige of a game I loved as a child.

The Plumber's Pipes Always Leak.....

Being a builder is not all it's cracked up to be. And I'm not talking about the current economy. I'm talking about the builder's private residence. I'm talking about the ongoing maintenance and repairs that occur in a 35 year old house. I'm talking about having the job during the day of seeing any variance in the work necessary to erect a new home and then trying to turn that off when you return to the hacienda at night. It isn't easy. When I get home at night I see 3,465 variances. To remedy said variances would require somewhere in the neighborhood of $125,000.00.

Now for those who don't watch the nightly news, that's some pretty serious cash in a very uncertain world. I have the list. I have the schedule. I have the budget. I just don't have the cash. So, I sit and stare at 3,465 variances every night during commercials. I take sleep aids.

You might suggest, and rightfully so, that I learn to manage said stress with the help of a professional. Good idea, but during good times, I subscribed to an HSA that basically says in the contract that if I don't have a heart attack or major car accident requiring 35 operations to reconstruct my bowels, I'm on my own. So, any such counseling would require out-of-pocket expenditures, which would only further exacerbate my shortfall of cash necessary to remedy this stress. Catch-22 Chapter 11.

If anyone repeats this, I'll deny it, but I asked some friends at a gathering one evening if they knew any arsonists. After everyone laughed and left the table hurriedly,one of them seemed very thoughtful, turned and asked, "What would it pay?" I offered 20% of the net gain over the mortgage payoff. He walked off. Apparently 20% is not enough.

Others have suggested I "borrow" (a synonym for steal) materials from my projects and call in "favors" (another word for extortion) from my subs. Sorry, my late father didn't bring me up that way. Oh, that I could be so footloose with morality. At least the variances would get a big dent in them. And my house would quit leaking.

The only other plan I came up with last Spring was to sell it as is and move into a brand new condo. It was a hell of a plan, replete with yard sales selling off everything we owned. In my zeal, I never considered what would happen if we couldn't sell the house (see the comment above on the economy). Now I have a relatively furniture-free ranch home in Marietta on the golf course that needs $135,000. (inflation) in repairs and improvements.

Don't even mention banks. They don't know what to loan, who to loan it to, or how much to charge right now. I just fired my current banker because of this. I don't think he cared. He knows my collateral has 3,466 variances (one of my light fixtures just burned up).