Ratto: Sandoval turns Media Day into festival of good feelings


Ratto: Sandoval turns Media Day into festival of good feelings

Ray RattoCSNBayArea.com

There could have been something inherently creepy about staring at Pablo Sandovals stomach to see if he is going to re-take his job as the Giants third baseman.Instead, Sandoval turned his press conference Friday into a festival of good feelings, weird history, promise, shame and televised vomit.The one thing he did not do is tell America how much weight he has lost, which ultimately is a trivia question when juxtaposed with how much better a hitter he plans to be.But heres what he did do:- Admit he realized he had a profound career problem during the postseason, before the Giants gave him their be one-sixth less large or learn to love Fresno ultimatum.- Say he has spoken several times about hitting to Barry Bonds, and worked regularly with Bonds personal trainer, Greg Sweets Oliver, which must have caused the Giants their own collective bout of indigestion. RELATED: Giants' Sandoval working with Bonds
- Say he has hired a full-time chef to help him mind his diet this coming season.- Spoke of his thrice-weekly workout regimen with former U.S. Olympic decathlete Dan OBrien, which involved regular track and field work, 400 meters, a mile, like that and long hikes and runs up the desert hills in and around Phoenix.- Say he didnt pick up a bat for two months while he was concentrating on losing weight and improving his stamina.- Oh, and he did share his first cameo for the Showtime documentary. I was running up the (Arizona State University) hill, and I threw up. Oh, yeah, they got that. I threw up a lot of times.Hurray, television!For the most part, Sandoval shouldered his share of the blame for losing his job as the Giants starting third baseman down the stretch and in the postseason. He said, I dont think it was my weight that explained his offensive and defensive plummet, but he did acknowledge it prevented him from working out as much as he had the year before, when he established himself as one of the teams best hitters.And he said he didnt mind being given the come-to-Jesus lecture by general manager Brian Sabean and manager Bruce Bochy after the World Series.I knew in the postseason already I had to change my body, I had to change my mind, he said. I have to think like a pro now. For all the things that happened with me in the postseason, I say thank you to the Giants because they made me grow up in that situation.Of course, there will still be weight jokes, at least until Feb. 19, when he said he would say how much weight he has lost. But there will also be snark related to his contact with Bonds and his personal trainer, which Sandoval seems not to mind. He needed hitting and fitness help, and clearly he felt Bonds and Oliver were excellent options.Ive talked with Barry a couple of times, he said. He talked to me about looking for a pitch I want to hit, looking for a pitch I can catch with my hands, just to (mentally) take a punch at the pitch I want to hit.He also said Oliver helped with running and pool work on Thursdays and Fridays, and with OBrien another three days a week, though his work now will be focused more on maintenance. I dont want to have to work so hard like that again, he said, an indication that he never wants to have to work so hard just to get back into workable shape. Now its up to me to keep to the workouts.Through it all, he seemed chastened by his 2010 but not so ashamed that he isnt devoted to making a 2011 that looks a lot more like 2009. And in doing so, he cleared his mind so much that he did not pick up a bat for two months because I had to relax my mind from baseball, by his admission the longest time he has ever gone without doing so.In fact, he said the first time he picked up a bat was at a home run derby contest in Venezuela three weeks ago, in which he finished third behind former Giant Eliezer Alfonzo. When I started it, the bat felt light. I feel like everything is fresh.Perhaps it is. If nothing else, Pablo Sandoval is now working on his third incarnation. He was the best Sandoval he could be in 2009, the worst Sandoval he could be in 2010, and now . . .It feels great, especially when you work out hard lifting the way Ive been lifting, you see the difference, you feel the difference when you hit the ball. I feel like Im using Andres Torres body right now.Lets hope for Torres sake he is at least paying rent.

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

You thought you were done worrying about the Raiders. You thought the votes were in, the moving vans booked for three years down the road, and all gnashing and sharpening of teeth was over. You thought you were free.

Then those buttinsky-come-latelies from St. Louis decided to rear their litigious heads, and now you find yourselves slipping back into that desperate-hope world from which no one escapes.

It seems the city and its regional sports authority has decided to sue the National Football League and its 32 semi-independent duchies over the relocation of the Rams 15 months ago because, and you’ll like this one, the league allegedly did not follow its own relocation rules when it moved the team.

As you know, there is no such thing as a rule if everyone governed by the rule decided unanimously to ignore the rule. This doctrine falls under the general heading of, “We’re billionaires, try and stop us.”

But all lawsuits have a common denominator, and that is that there is money at the end of the rainbow. St. Louis is claiming it is going to miss out on approximately $100 million in net proceeds (read: cash) and has decided that the NFL and especially their good pal Stan Kroenke is going to have to pay for permission to do what they have already done -- specifically, leave.

Because the suit was filed in St. Louis, the benefits of home field advantage apply, and the league is likely to have to reinflate their lawyers for some exciting new billable hours.

As to whether it turns into a windfall for the jilted Missourians, well, as someone who has known lawyers, I would list them as prohibitive underdogs. But there is nuisance value here, which brings us to Oakland.

The city and county, as we know, did not put its best shoe forward in trying to lure the Raiders into staying or the other 31 owners into rejecting the team’s pleas for geographical relief. By that, we mean that the city and county did not fall all over itself to meet the league’s typically extortionate demands.

But they did play angry enough to start snipping about the 2019 part of the Raiders’ 3-More-Coliseum-Years plan, and they are threatening to sue over about $80K in unpaid parking fees, so filing their own breach-of-rules lawsuit might be a possibility.

Because, hey, what’s the point of sounding like a nuisance if you can’t actually become one?

By now, it is clear that everyone in SuitWorld got what it needed out of the Raiders’ move. The city and county could concentrate on guiding the A’s into activity on their own new stadium. The team could go where Mark Davis has been agitating for it to go for at least three years – somewhere else. The state of Nevada could find a place for that $750 million that was burning a hole in its casino vault. And the league went to a market that it, at first reluctantly and then enthusiastically, decided should be its own.

The fans? Oh, please. Who cares about them? To the NFL, and to all corporations in all walks of business, folks are just walking wallets.

But for some cash? Well, climb on board, suckers. The gravy train is pulling out on Track 3.

Nobody is fool enough to think the Raiders would be forced to return. Hell, even St. Louis isn’t asking for the Rams back. They just want to get paid for the money they probably banked on in the good old days before Stan Kroenke decided to head west.

And that would doubtless be Oakland’s stance as well if. Now the circumstances are slightly different, in that St. Louis worked harder to keep the Rams than Oakland did to keep the Raiders. St. Louis scared up $350 million toward new digs for the Rams, well short of what Kroenke would have accepted, while Oakland said it could get its hands on some infrastructure money and no more.

But Mayor Libby Schaaf complained in her relocation post mortem that the league didn’t follow its own guidelines (yay correlation as causation!), maybe with an eye toward throwing a few lawyers into the fire to see how long it would burn.

There is not yet any indication that the city and county are going that route (and the silence may simply mean that they are sick of the Raiders’ saga as everyone else seems to be), but if they do, well, don’t freak out that the team might be forced to return.

Except, of course, in that place where migraines start. Dragging this back up is a bit like the phantom pain amputees feel -- but hey, people will do a lot for a bit of court-ordered cash. Anyone who has ever watched Judge Judy will understand.

A sports-related pie-fixing scandal? Hell never felt so fun


A sports-related pie-fixing scandal? Hell never felt so fun

I’m liking this 2017 so far. Then again, after 2016, nearly any year would be an improvement.

Just this last weekend we got a flat-earth scandal that turned into a mock-up about media self-importance and fake news (yay Kyrie Irving and his impish sense of satire!).

We got the overblown Russell-Hates-Kevin narrative, and the faux Russell-Secretly-Loves-Kevin counternarrative, all because we are stunningly attracted to meaningless and utterly contrived drama (yay our ability to B.S. ourselves!).

We got the NBA All-Star Game ripped for having no defense even though last year’s game was, if anything, worse (yay short attention span!).

We got the Boogie Cousins trade and the national revulsion of all the thought processes the Sacramento Kings put into this perpetually rolling disaster (yay making Boogie and Vivek Ranadive household names!).

And now we got the Great Sutton United Pie-Fixing Scandal. Yeah, pie-fixing. Hell never felt so fun.

So here’s the deal. Sutton United, a very small fry in English soccer, got to the fifth round of the FA Cup, a competition in which all the clubs in England are commingled and play each other until one team remains. The big clubs almost always win, so any time a small club goes deep, it’s a big deal.

Anyway, Sutton went deeper in the competition than nearly anyone in the last century, a charming development given that it is such a small club that it had a stadium caretaker, goalie coach and backup goalie all in one massive fellow, a 46-year-old guy named Wayne Shaw. Shaw became the globular embodiment of the entire Sutton Experience, a jolly lark for everyone involved and especially when he ate a pie on the bench in the final minutes of Sutton’s Cup-exiting loss to Arsenal.

And now he’s been eased into resigning his jobs with the club, because – and this is so very British – there were betting shops taking action on whether he would in fact eat a pie on the bench, and he either did or did not tip off his pals that he was going to chow down on television.

He did eat the pie. His pals collected on their bets. The sport’s governing body opened an investigation into market manipulation by gambling – which is hilarious given that no fewer than 10 gambling establishments have advertising deals with English soccer clubs. Shaw was invited to quit to kill the story, and he took the hint.

Hey, dreams die all the time. But it’s still pie-fixing. Let that rattle around your head for a minute. Pie-fixing. Not match-fixing. Not point-shaving. Pie-fixing.

Now how can you not love this year?

Sure, it sucks for Shaw, but it serves as a series of cautionary tales for athletes around the world.

* Gambling is everywhere, and every time you inch toward it, you dance on the third rail.

* If you want to help your friends, give them cash.

* This is a horribly delicious way to lose your gig.

* And finally, fun in the 21st century isn’t ever truly fun because someone in a suit and a snugly-placed stick is going to make sure you pay full retail for that fun.

But it is nice to know that something that has never happened before is now part of our year. Pie-fixing is a thing now, as silly in its way as Irving’s flat-earth narrative was. And as we steer away from normal games as being too run-of-the-mill-fuddy-duddy entertainment, we have replaced them with sideshows.

Or do you forget how many people complained Saturday and Sunday that the dunk contest wasn’t interesting enough? How stupid is that?

Lots. Lots of stupid. But against pie-tin-shaped planets and pies turned into betting coups, how can it possibly compare?

We chase a lot of idiotic narratives in our sporting lives. The great What Will The Patriots Do To Roger Goodell story died like the old dog it was. We still try to flog Warriors-Thunder as a rivalry in search of better TV ratings when all the obvious evidence is that it is no such thing unless you think a couple that broke up nine months ago is still a solid story. We have Bachelor fantasy leagues, for God’s sake.

This would leave most normal folks in despair, thus matching their everyday experiences, but yin meets yang, and every time it looks like we are all barrel-rolling into the sun, we get Irving, and then we get Wayne Shaw.

In short, 2017 is going to be fun of grand surprises for us all. I look forward to the day President Trump tries to fete the Patriots and only gets to Skype with Bob Kraft and the equipment guys who midwifed DeflateGate, and Mark Davis in Las Vegas, just to see if he can get a P.F. Chang’s into the Bellagio.

Why not? This is sport’s year-long tribute to sketch comedy, and evidently everyone is signing on enthusiastically to replace lessons of morality and honor and equality and dignity and sportsmanship with slackened jaws and belly laughs.

So yay sports! Or as it is clearly becoming, A Night At The Improv.