Who can you trust?

Who can you trust?

Apparently hardly anyone.

And that, pholks, worries me.

Baseball, that bastion of America life, our supposed national pastime, is just about recovered from the last screw up in 1994 when the season was canceled without a World Series. Now the overpaid players, the hard-headed owners and the wimpy so-called Commissioner are on the verge of killing the game and breaking the hearts of millions of almost healed fans.

Then there are the hundreds of greedy and corrupt corporate executives who have been lying, cheating and stealing on their way to even more greed and corruption at the expense of their investors, employees and millions of average Joes and Janes. Our national economy is the pits, while they and their attorneys enjoy the best of everything that money--everyone elses'--can buy.

Heck, even Martha Stewart has henchmen. What's next pholks? Will Superman end up going shopping with priests when K-Mart or Target have their "boys shorts half off sale?"

Will we discover that even more top-dollar accountants have taken book-cooking classes from dear ‘ol Martha?

Okay, okay, I'll slow down a bit. Take one heart-breaking issue at a time.

Baseball. Mickey, Willie and the Duke didn't take steroids. Sure, maybe a couple of them drank to excess with Billy Martin and may have played with a hangover or two. Babe Ruth was a wild and crazy guy. He didn't build up his body, he abused it. He out pitched, out-hit, and outplayed everyone in his day. And some of his slugging and pitching records still stand. No steroids for the Babe. Just think what he could have done.

Today's players are bigger and stronger and are batting and pitching at record paces. They have better equipment, juiced baseballs, better training, video tapes of their every move and personal trainers--sometimes two or three-- to help them produce. Several hundred of them make more in one year that most Hall of Famers made in their illustrious careers. Some of today's stars make more per game than the stars of old made in one season.

Major League Baseball regained some of its luster by playing a major role in helping our wounded nation unite when it resumed play in September. It was something America needed. The national pastime became a national healer. And the World Series was one of the best ever.

But what happened. There was talk and threats of contraction, cutting at least two teams. Then talk about a strike.

Next the deaths of a player from natural causes a week after that team's famed announcer died from cancer.

And then the death, at age 83, of Ted Williams, the greatest hitter in the game. A true American hero who set all kinds of records even though he gave up five of his prime playing years to the military in two wars, World War II and Korea. He died the day before the All Star Game.

But it was more than fitting that his life and achievements would be celebrated at the game where fans from around the world paid tribute. They painted his number on the field and even named the MVP award in his honor.

But wait. They called the game after 11 innings because they ran out pitchers. A ball game, one with the game's best players, called not because of darkness, rain, sleet, lightening, hail or tidal wave. They ran out of pitchers. Fans, those who paid a minimum of $175 per ticket, and millions who tuned in around the world screamed, shouted, cussed and yelled.

Of course team managers didn't want to gamble on any players, especially pitchers, getting hurt or too tired for any upcoming "real" game. Both All Star managers had gambled and used all their players. But pholks, managing any baseball game involves gambling. That is part of the lure of baseball. Instant decisions. Pinch hitting, choice of pitches, whether to hit or take a pitch, should a base runner try to steal a base - all parts of the game. The managers made their choices and lost. So guess what, they talked the Commissioner of Baseball into calling the game. That pholks was not the way to showcase baseball at its best. It was a cop out, a wimp out, a disgrace to the game. All the prima donnas went back to their luxury hotels, got a good night's rest and got their minds right to resume the season.

The fans got robbed.

On top of that, the Most Valuable Player Award, which earlier in the night was named for Ted Williams, was not given. A great way to pay tribute to the greatest hitter ever.

Time for baseball to take stock.

"Taking stock" has long been the American "can do" way.

But until Wall Street, baseball, corporate executives and accountants learn to play by the rules, it seems us average Americans better not take stock in anything.

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The above stories are the property of The Valley Voice Newspaper and may not be reprinted without explicit permission in writing from the publisher.