Sunday, January 06, 2008

Memo to Jerry Green: I'm not an "anonymous blogger." I'm not a "wannabe journalist." You are still irrelevant

The Detroit News' semi-retired crank of a columnist, Jerry Green, is in a contemplative mood today over over something I wrote 6 weeks ago. He vents his aged, liver spotted spleen over yours truly in today's edition. (A tip o' the cap goes to Billfer, who let me know I was in Green's shaky cross hairs.)

He doesn't reference me by name, but calls me an "anonymous blogger," and "a wanna-be journalist" in response to what was literally a throwaway line in one of my ""Above the Fold" link dumps...

While wandering through the Internet a week or so ago, I happened upon a blog by a wanna-be journalist that caught my attention. Or kicked me where it hurt.

The Web site has vaporized in my computer, but the essence of the guy's opinionated statement is imperishable.

"Jerry Green is The News' curmudgeon. He writes only about dead people."

My initial reaction was that the blogger was another of those anonymous fools without sufficient gumption to identify himself and take the heat. Then I realized that the blogger whoever he -- or she -- is had nailed me right on.

Curmudgeon? Guilty as charged.

Writes only about dead people? Frequently.

Actually, I was afraid he was going to yell at me to get off his lawn, and to respect my elders!

Of course, Green paraphrases my quote, and doesn't mention the blog, or my far from anonymous name (Al Beaton, aka Big Al. Admittedly, my pic is obscured by a beer, but that's my normal state). God forbid he link to the offending post. As for calling me a fool? Guilty as charged.

Anyway, the following little jibe is what caused to Jerry contemplate his complete irrelevancy...

The News' resident curmudgeon, Jerry Green does what he does best, write about dead guys. In this case, the dead guy is long ago Wolverines coach Bernie Oosterbaan, whom Green compares to Lloyd Carr.

There is a glorious football coaching lineage at Michigan -- Oosterbaan to Bump Elliott to Bo Schembechler to Gary Moeller to Carr. And presumably onward. All of them class coaches and class men, educators, forgiving the occasional indiscretion.

Lloyd Carr was a protégé of Schembechler. And he fit the mold of Bennie Oosterbaan.

All I have to say is...He uses "Glorious" and "Gary Moeller" in the same sentence?.

At first, I thought Jerry was as angry as an old man that misses the early bird dinner special at Denny's. But as I read further, he instead attempts to give anonymous internet wannabe journalist whippersnappers a baseball history lesson.

The anonymous blogger might be interested to learn that this was called "The Dead Ball Era" by baseball historians.

The Cubbies won the pennant and then the World Series even though they lacked a potent offense. Evers led the team in hitting with a batting average of a flat .300.

Home runs were quite special, even if ESPN would not be around for another 71 years to invent the cliché, "He went yard." And to show the each and every home run, over and over, 10 times. That year, Tinker "Went Yard" on six occasions -- and he led the '08 Cubs in home runs.

History has never told us if Evers shook Tinker's hand after the slugger arrived at home plate -- as it were those two who, according to reports, refused to speak to one another.

Another saga from history a century ago!

He goes on to write about "Three Finger" Brown, and Fred Merkle, as if knowledgeable baseball fans don't know of them, or their famous (In Merkle's case, infamous) accomplishments.

Jerry, I'm not that young, I'm in my 40's. I know a ton of baseball history. I'm a fan who goes way back, who devoured baseball history books growing up. I'm keenly aware of the "Dead ball era." I know that Mordecai Brown was a hall of fame pitcher who had a nasty ass curve thanks to his losing digits as a kid. I know all about "Merkle's Boner." Heh...He said boner. (I'm a blogger, isn't that how I'm supposed to react?)

I just choose not to bore my readers, or more importantly, myself, by writing about Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown. History is well worth knowing, and we are sometimes doomed to repeat it, but living in the past has nothing to do with writing about today's brand of baseball. Fred Merkle would be as confused by today's game as Green is when given a cell phone...

Between you and me, I rarely read Green, mainly due to columns like today's "lesson." He doesn't relate to me, or anyone else who doesn't get a senior's discount, or find Clara Bow hot. He's an old crank, and as I said, he all too often writes "About dead guys." I honestly believe the only reason Green continues to write his column for the News is so he can continue to keep his silly little streak of covering every Super Bowl alive.

For all the other media members that read TWFE, and I know you're out there, let me clue you in. I do not want to be, or have ever claimed to be, a journalist. I have no training, save for English classes that taught me how to put more than 2 words together coherently. My major was business, for chrissakes!

Why would I want to be a "journalist?" So I can hold my nose in the air like your blog hating compatriot, Chris McCosky? So I can get free eats in the press box? So I can stop being a fan of the teams I've grown to love, as journalists claim they have to do? Please.

I know my writing would suffer greatly if I had to censor myself. There's no fun in that, and to me, blogging is all about fun. From what I've seen, you can rarely say that about journalism. If I were a "journalist," I couldn't insult Matt Millen on a daily basis, call the Little Fella the Little Fella, or claim Rob Parker's columns prove the "Worst columnist in America" is functionally retarded. Now that's FUN!

I'm just fine and dandy being a wannabe, a piss ant little blogger.

Jerry, I'm flattered you read TWFE. Just have the courtesy to remember to bookmark blog's URL before your computer magically "vaporizes" it.

1 comment:

  1. ha! I wondered whose blog he was referring to. I'm sure you said what most people in the state were thinking.