But this leaves me no choice. I have to say it now.

Racism is at least 50% responsible for the perception of GA as lazy and nonchalant. This does not mean that you’re a racist if you think that Garret Anderson didn’t care about his job. However, as participants in American society, we are all subject to common cultural associations with racial origins. The false image of the lazy black man is as old as America itself.

We can pretend that we’ve got beyond this in sports and in the media, but it’s just not true. I’ve lived on the East Coast for awhile now, and it is blatantly obvious that athletes get portrayed differently because of skin color, even more so than in California. Turn on WFAN some time they are taking calls about Luis Castillo or Carlos Beltran. It’s no accident that gritty “hustle guys” are almost always white.

Now Garret Anderson had a great baseball career and made lots of money doing it. He certainly hasn’t missed out on life in America. But the subjective perception of laziness is not something completely earned himself. If he were white, I doubt the issue would have dogged him throughout his entire career, and then into retirement. That problem is much bigger than he is.

Do you dream more about Eckstein or Percival blowing you?

Halos Heaven is the best Angels blog of ALL time!

Of All time!

Very OT I know…

All-time Angel, absolutely no doubt, and arguably the best player on the World Champion team. But also overrated for much of his career (because he couldn’t draw a walk), yet underrated for a good chunk of his career (because the people who pointed out that he couldn’t draw a walk didn’t give him enough credit for durability, consistency, and defensive flexibility).

Garret was frustrating because he didn’t seem to adjust his mentality up at the plate — like, he’d swing at the first pitch after a pitcher on the ropes just walked two guys. But Garret was also awesome because he didn’t seem to adjust his mentality up at the plate — totally unfazed by pressure situations, see the ball and hit a double down the line, clearing the bases.

He was the just about the most efficient guy I’ve ever seen at taking a hard groundball down the third base line and keeping it a single. He was also among the least efficient at approaching a dunker before it plopped in front of him. (This makes some sense if you remember that he was actually a pretty damned big guy yet with good body control, meaning he was at his best staying within his limits rather than making sudden starts and stops.)

And yes, he did jog down the first base line more than most. What do you do with all that?

Here’s what I do — appreciate the man for what he did (play good baseball for a long time, and very good baseball for an important time), for what he didn’t do (flame out, spread cancer in the clubhouse), and remember both his smile after Game 7, and the humanity he let seep through in those final couple of years here. There’s no law that says you have to love every good player on your chosen team; I still have an unhealthy relationship toward Rod Carew. Just try to make sure that in the process you aren’t shortchanging the very real accomplishments on and off the field.