Whenever I see stuff like this I make this face. But I do think the writer — Max Parker, “The Game Guy” of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s Community Voices section* — is, in fact, serious:
I received an email today that informed me of an outrageous and heinous error inMLB 2K11. Among complaints about the commentary and controls, the email from Drew, a Pittsburgh native, shed light on the following unthinkable blunder: “they allowed for one of the computer generated players I drafted onto the Pirates to walk out onto the field at PNC Park in a #21 jersey. NUMBER TWENTY-ONE! ON THE PIRATES! I’m sending it back to 2k Sports and demanding a refund for damages.”
That’s Roberto Clemente’s number, of course, which the Pirates have retired. And while the “refund for damages” comment is probably hyperbole, the writer does seem to be serious in asking that MLB 2K11 remove the ability for users to play with retired numbers on their players.
Which is crazy talk, of course. The point of retiring a number is so that Lastings Milledge or someone doesn’t wear it out on the field in front of Pirates fans and God and everyone. It’s not to keep me from being able to pretend that the character I created on a video game is the illegitimate grandson of Clemente, discovered playing ball on the streets of Carolina, Puerto Rico and secretly groomed in a private training facility in the mountains of western Pennsylvania, only to be revealed to the world during a fictitious Game 7 of the World Series where he hits the winning pinch hit home run off the illegitimate grandson of Whitey Ford, who happens to be wearing #16 for the Yankees.
You know, just by way of, um, example.
*An earlier version of this post omitted Mr. Parker’s name. Mr. Parker took issue with this on Twitter, complaining that I violated “Journalism 101” by not giving him proper credit. Apologies to Mr. Parker. In my defense — which I realize is not sufficient — I was merely following Courtesy 101, which would have me not call out people by name when they’re making a really ridiculous point. But seeing as though Max Parker would like everyone to know that he’s genuinely upset that video game characters are allowed to wear retired numbers, I hereby make the correction. Let no one say that Max Parker abides the notion of pretend baseball players wearing retired numbers. And let no one say that I don’t abide the concepts of “Journalism 101.”
You’ll recall the little controversy last month when Ichiro Suzuki passed Pete Rose’s hit total. Specifically, when Ichiro’s Japanese and American hit total reached Rose’s American total of 4,256 and a lot of people talked about Ichiro being the new “Hit King.” You’ll also recall that Rose himself got snippy about it, wondering if people would now think of him as “the Hit Queen,” which he took to be disrespect.
There’s a profile of Ichiro over at ESPN the Magazine and reporter Marly Rivera asked Ichiro about that. Ichiro’s comments were interesting and quite insightful about how ego and public perception work in the United States:
I was actually happy to see the Hit King get defensive. I kind of felt I was accepted. I heard that about five years ago Pete Rose did an interview, and he said that he wished that I could break that record. Obviously, this time around it was a different vibe. In the 16 years that I have been here, what I’ve noticed is that in America, when people feel like a person is below them, not just in numbers but in general, they will kind of talk you up. But then when you get up to the same level or maybe even higher, they get in attack mode; they are maybe not as supportive. I kind of felt that this time.
There’s a hell of a lot of truth to that. Whatever professional environment you’re in, you’ll see this play out. If you want to know how you’re doing, look at who your enemies and critics are. If they’re senior to you or better-established in your field, you’re probably doing something right. And they’re probably pretty insecure and maybe even a little afraid of you.
The rest of the article is well worth your time. Ichiro seems like a fascinating, insightful and intelligent dude.
In 2012 Curt Schilling’s video game company, 38 Studios, delivered the fantasy role-playing game it had spent millions of dollars and countless man hours trying to deliver. And then the company folded, leaving both its employees and Rhode Island taxpayers, who underwrote much of the company’s operations via $75 million in loans, holding the bag.
The fallout to 38 Studios’ demise was more than what you see in your average business debacle. Rhode Island accused Schilling and his company of acts tantamount to fraud, claiming that it accepted tax dollars while withholding information about the true state of the company’s finances. Former employees, meanwhile, claimed — quite credibly, according to reports of the matter — that they too were lured to Rhode Island believing that their jobs were far more secure than they were. Many found themselves in extreme states of crisis when Schilling abruptly closed the company’s doors. For his part, Schilling has assailed Rhode Island politicians for using him as a scapegoat and a political punching bag in order to distract the public from their own misdeeds. There seems to be truth to everyone’s claims to some degree.
As a result of all of this, there have been several investigations and lawsuits into 38 Studios’ collapse. In 2012 the feds investigated the company and declined to bring charges. There is currently a civil lawsuit afoot and, alongside it, the State of Rhode Island has investigated for four years to see if anyone could be charged with a crime. Today there was an unexpected press conference in which it was revealed that, no, no one associated with 38 Studios will be charged with anything:
An eight-page explanation of the decision concluded by saying that “the quantity and qualify of the evidence of any criminal activity fell short of what would be necessary to prove any allegation beyond a reasonable doubt and as such the Rules of Professional Conduct precluded even offering a criminal charge for grand jury consideration.”
Schilling will likely crow about this on his various social media platforms, claiming it totally vindicates him. But, as he is a close watcher of any and all events related to Hillary Clinton, he no doubt knows that a long investigation resulting in a declination to file charges due to lack of evidence is not the same thing as a vindication. Bad judgment and poor management are still bad things, even if they’re not criminal matters.
Someone let me know if Schilling’s head explodes if and when someone points that out to him.