Can I hear you now? ..Yes!

Can you hear me now? I thought it was a question I could answer at any given time with some amount of confidence. I am not sure anymore, if what I heard was what I heard, or if I heard it to its full capacity.

I made my first visit to an Ear, Nose & Throat doctor today for, among other reasons, to get my ears checked out. For a while, I have felt in my right ear- a little plugged up. Not so much as to greatly affect my hearing, but enough to know it's there, and I told my doctor this, as he looked into my ear with that little light thingy. "Well, you've got a load of wax in there," he said, followed by the question do I clean my ears with Q-tips- yes I said- and went to the lecture we have all heard: the do not put anything in your ear smaller than your elbow speech, you're just making worse blah blah blah. The next thing I know, I was told to be very still and he inserted a cold metal instrument into my ear- much to my discomfort. Be still, I was told again- I thought I had been still, but I guess one loses awareness of one's movement when confronted with cold steel in your ear (no I don't know if it was actual steel, but the gun metaphor adds a certain dramatic flair I just couldn't resist)- and with a touch of effort pulled the instrument out of my ear, and said something to the effect of, "Look at that." What remained on the instrument was a gob of wax, roughly the size of my pinky nail- which doesn't seem like much, even more so given the fact I have very small pinkies, and yet- monumental with the knowledge that it came out of my ear.

Following his conquest on my right ear, the doctor cleaned up the left and sat down at his computer and began asking me questions. It was then I noticed. Every click of his keyboard, every "s" in his speech hit my ears with such ferocity that I exclaimed something like, "Wow, everything's really loud," or something stupid of the like- to which responded, dryly and seemingly unimpressed, "I'll try to talk quieter." I left the office and walked out into the bitter cold morning. Bitter, cold, loud morning. Truck breaks, taxis honking, a bird flapping its wings twelve blocks away. I had supersonic hearing, I explained to my coworkers, once I had reached the office. And every time I spoke, it sounded as if I was speaking into a tin can and having the sound bounced right back at me. The rustle of papers, the ring of the phone, the guy sneezing two floors below me. My hearing had improved to annoying level. And it continued like this for the rest of the day. Sounds I had heard in the past as background noise, competed for my attention with ones right in front of me.

So what have I learned (besides the whispered secrets of people fifty feet away from me)? I am sticking to the Q-tips. Sorry, Doc. A little wax goes a long way from keeping someone sane. No one should hear as well as I heard after leaving that office. I now understand fully why Superman needed his fortress of solitude. Can I hear you now? Most definitely. So be careful what you say, wherever you are- because whether I like it or not, I may be listening.

Time to sell low for Bonds?

What has been for so long a bad dream to Major League Baseball, is quickly turning into a complete nightmare. Perhaps at their own doing. As he has approached Hank Aaron's sacred home run record, Barry Bonds has hidden behind the blanket of never actually failing a drug test. Now reports are that he did indeed fail a drug test last season, although for amphetamines- not for steroids as anyone following the story might have thought. But any sort of positive test for Bonds at this point is a big negative for him. He can no longer hide behind his veil, although ultra-sheer to begin with, of innocence. Reports that it may affect the completion of his contract with the Giants have surfaced, as well early reports of blaming a teammate for the positive test, both of which have been refuted by the Bonds camp. To a man who has never been thought of as the model teammate, this just adds fuel to the fire. It also adds the weight of more scrutiny on Bonds as he continues his march toward baseball history.

Under the new testing policy, a first positive test for amphetamines carries no suspension, and results of the test are kept private. So in that respect, we have no idea how many players tested positive for amphetamines during the 2006 season. Barry Bonds run at Hank Aaron has been met with tepid, if not downright cold response from MLB and the commissioner's office. Almost as if to sweep it under the table, Bud Selig's remarks have been very understated and unclear as to how baseball would recognize or deal with Bonds' forthcoming record. Conspiracy theorists- have at it! It is interesting that the only name we have heard in conjunction with amphetamines testing happens to be Barry Bonds. Almost as interesting is the timing: Amidst reports that the Giants and Bonds' representatives are in a quagmire hammering out very important language of Bonds' contract that was supposedly close to being a done deal over a month ago. Not to suggest that a top secret directive came down from the commissioner's office, but certainly there are those in baseball that would like this problem to go away, rather than having to deal with it head on. Bonds is tired. Physically, mentally. Could something like this push him into retirement, short of his goal of home run King? It certainly seems possible. And maybe, whoever leaked the information of his failed drug test thought so too.

So, Barry Bonds' march towards baseball history could carry with it a nasty double meaning. Does he make history, and pass Hank Aaron as baseball's big fly leader? Or does he become baseball history, by retiring? We'll find out in the weeks to come. And as for conspiracy theories? Pitchers and catchers don't report for another month, and nothing makes the winter pass like a good read.

*******
Oh, and…

After it has failed to promote its own stars, and failed to capture the consciousness of American sports, Major League Soccer has gone trans-Atlantic, if not trans-Galactic to bring David Beckham stateside. One the biggest stars worldwide, transcending that of sports fame, Beckham brings publicity wherever he goes. MLS is banking on that celebrity to boost sales and notoriety. Banking is a careful choice of words too, as reports tell us the total worth of Beckham's contract may reach the $250 million stratosphere. Is this a good thing for MLS? This fledgling league putting all its golden eggs in one basket? In the short term, it seems a no brainer. For the LA Galaxy, who reported a 2,000 seat boost in season ticket sales following the announcement, they will see an immediate increase in attendance. Fans will flock to see the most famous British import since perhaps The Beatles. We may even see Lakers game- like celebrity attendance in the beginning. And so too will they flock when and wherever the Galaxy travel. But as far as staying power, will it be enough to keep the fans coming back? At this point, it appears MLS is hoping to just get fans in the stadiums, and hedge their bets as whether they will stay when the mania subsides. Or hoping this opens the door for others to make the jump from other European elite leagues. The MLS season starts in early April, and Beckham's current contract with Real Madrid is through June 30. Do the 2,000 fans who rushed out to by their Galaxy season seats know they won't be seeing Beckham for the first three months of the season? It would be an awful way to start off building a fan base if they don't.

A kinder, gentler unit

A small bone, a half-hearted kudos, tossed to ex and current Diamondbacks starter Randy Johnson. In his introductory press conference yesterday in Arizona, Johnson buried hatchets, took the slow boat on the water going under that fabled bridge, saying among other things "The run that I had, as short-lived as it was, as well-documented as it was in New York, I wouldn't change a thing. I think those are life experiences that make a man."

Wow. This from a guy whose first quotable after landing in New York as Yankee was "get outta my face [sic]" as he shoved a WCBS camera man by the lens with his Arsenio Hall-sized tallons. He could have said, Hey I pitched over 400 innings and won 34 games the past two seasons. Get outta my face! We have witnessed a transformation from the don't-even-look-at-this-guy-on-gameday, to the guy who is just happy to be wearing the number 51 again. Approachable Unit. And seeing the posed pictures from the press conference, the Unit beaming for the cameras, how can we be sure Randy didn't want to go back to Phoenix to get into the snazzy new red uni's the D-backs got going on. Makes you wonder if Yankees GM Brian Cashman dropped that in somewhere to Randy thoughout the negotiation process, Hey Randy, you know if you go back to Arizona, you know you don't have to wear bright purple anymore.

Seriously though, everybody's saying the right thing, but everybody is happy to have this chapter closed. Randy Johnson is home, playing in NL West anonymity, wearing number 51 in a half-emtpy beautiful retractible- roof stadium; and the Yankees get younger (for the moment, they are surely on speed dial with the Rocket), they have $14 million they can spend on someone who they know can pitch in the Bronx, and they continue to stockpile young arms.


Oh, and...

Without getting into the steroid debate- here's one thought on the Hall of Fame voting results, announced yesterday. Shame on voters, albeit 2-2.5%, who didn't vote for Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken. If ever there was a chance for unanimous entry, these guys were it. Leave it to the writers who feel it is their duty to not vote anyone in on the first ballot, based on principle. Which begs the age-old seemingly unanswerable question, if a guy isn't a hall of famer this year, why is he the next year? Or in five years? Ten? (Hang in there Goose, 21 votes to go.) I could keep going- and rag on the guys who turned in a blank ballot (see Paul Ladewski of the Daily Southtown in Chicago) in part because no one is above supsicion in this era of baseball- but this is just a tag, which is why I refuse to go into the whole steroid debate.