A Night at the Peabody: covering the premiere of MLB Productions’ 2011 World Series Film…


I was invited, through Craig and MLB’s PR people, to attend and report on the premiere of the 2011 World Series Film on Tuesday night in St. Louis. I’ve been writing professionally about baseball since 2008, but it was the first time I had covered any sort of live event with a media badge and access to players.

I probably shouldn’t mention that. Amateurism is in no way redeeming. But I’ve had trouble thinking of ways to recount my experience in a straightforward way, like a seasoned member of the media would. And so rather than fake it, I’ll offer you full disclosure.

I moved to St. Louis when I was nine years old and have lived in or around the city for the past 15-plus years of my life. I’m a Cardinals fan. I write about baseball six days a week in an objective way and I find it easy to dissociate work with personal rooting interests. But I’m a Cardinals fan. Maybe that will fade as I begin craving provocative stories over home-team victories, but it hasn’t yet and no one has told me that it must.


The film premiere was held at the Peabody Opera House in downtown St. Louis, a few blocks west of Busch Stadium. Originally founded as the Kiel Opera House in 1934, the 3,500-seat theater hosted countless plays, musicals, operas and concerts until 1991, when it was closed along with the adjacent Kiel Auditorium for the development of a new hockey arena — currently called the Scottrade Center, home to the Blues.


In the summer of 2009 the St. Louis Board of Aldermen agreed to subsidize renovations of the Opera House, and it reopened in October of this year with a debut benefit featuring Aretha Franklin, Jay Leno and hometown hero Chuck Berry. I saw Wilco there just a few days after the grand opening.

The place is absolutely gorgeous, and it becomes obvious upon passing through the entrance why the the city’s decision-makers decided to put forth tax dollars to assist in getting the building back.

Great theaters, like great baseball stadiums, affect you the moment you walk into them. They take you somewhere. At the old Yankee Stadium, there was a buzz of expectation. At Wrigley Field, it’s like being thrust into a frat party. Inside the Peabody, it still feels like the 1930s. It feels like everyone should be wearing tuxedos. I wore jeans, a jacket and a button-down.


The check-in table for members of the press was tucked next to the theater’s loading dock, beyond a double-door that read “Employees Only.” I gave the man at the table my name and media affiliate, he gave me a media pass, and a woman directed me on a minute-or-so walk to the red carpet area inside the Peabody’s foyer, where hundreds of dressed-in-red Cardinals fans were already gathered with cameras at the ready.


I introduced myself to a few of the baseball writers I recognized and chuckled upon hearing discussions of Deadspin’s Dan Lozano takedown as I waited with St. Louis’ finest news anchors, cameramen and radio jockeys for the arrival of the evening’s VIPs.

David Freese was the first to show. The place went nuts as he walked in, was handed a copy of the World Series Film DVD, and stood smiling next to a display featuring the World Series trophy.

Kyle McClellan entered the room next, followed by Cardinals radio announcers Mike Shannon and John Rooney, and television announcer Rick Horton.

I took pictures while reviewing in my head a couple of questions I had prepared to ask Freese, the night’s primary draw. “What’s the best experience you’ve had since winning the World Series?” “How do you deal with raised expectations locally but also nationally?” “What is your relationship with new manager Mike Matheny?”


When the photo-ops ended, the interviews began. Freese was hustled around to various clusters of reporters and cameras as I stood a few feet away and held out my iPhone, hoping to record some interesting quotes. MLB’s PR manager must have taken notice of my helplessness, because he hollered at me over the crowd and pointed to a spot at the end of the red carpet where I might be able to fit in a few questions.

As Freese made his way to the final few stretches of red matting where I was standing, I heard the questions I had prepared — all of them — being asked over and over again by other reporters. Freese didn’t budge, giving long and thoughtful answers to each inquiry, however repetitive. But I figured it was time to pull an audible.


“Has the media attention grown to be overwhelming or are you able to still enjoy it?,” I efforted.

“Yeah, I mean, you understand that it comes with the territory. I get it. Everybody’s got a job to do, so you take it in stride,” Freese responded. “You’ve just gotta manage it. Everybody’s gonna come after you, but if you have good people behind you and you schedule it right… you can take care of business.”

I shook Freese’s hand as he was shooed away to the VIP reception behind us, where St. Louis dignitaries waited to greet him while dining on local favorites like toasted ravioli, St. Louis-style pizza and ice-cold Budweiser bottles. There was also a large Anheuser-Busch ice bar in the front of the reception room, and I wondered to myself for a moment if they might be accepting applications to blow-torch the thing once the event was through.


I was given an aisle seat in the sixth row for the screening, among a few of the baseball writers whom I had met before. I chatted football and music with’s Matthew Leach, a writer I’ve admired for years, and I got a few texts from friends in the sold-out crowd who were wanting to know how I scored such great seats.


The movie was fantastic. NFL Films draws awards and praise for the pieces they put together each year, but MLB Productions deserves just as much acclaim. Jon Hamm, a St. Louis native, was perfect for his narration role. The tight-shots of the on-field celebration were spectacular. And the crowd in the Peabody responded to the scenes as if the Cardinals were playing one final victory-lap game.

When Freese launched his Game 6-tying triple over the head of Rangers right fielder Nelson Cruz, the place erupted. People were actually taking pictures — with flash — of the screen. When Freese ended that wild Game 6 with a walkoff home run just a few highlights later, nearly three-quarters of the premiere attendees were on their feet, high-fiving and screaming.

I didn’t cheer or applaud because I felt like enough of a rookie already. When the film hit the ending credits and the lights came on in the theater, I took a few final pictures of the crowd and headed toward the exit.

On the way home, I grabbed a fountain Pepsi and blasted the Fleet Foxes’ “Helplessness Blues.”


I grew up wanting to be a sports writer — one with access, a dedicated readership, and a license to once-in-a-lifetime experiences — but I’ve always had an awareness of the mountain one has to climb in order to secure such a position. It never seemed attainable. I guess I don’t completely feel that way anymore.

The Days of Chief Wahoo are numbered

Fox Entertainment

One of the more common responses to what I’ve posted about Chief Wahoo lately is “it’s just a cartoon character! Nobody cares!”

Well, looking at that guy in the photo above and many others dressed like him at Progressive Field the past two days is evidence that it is not just a cartoon character. A certain swath of Indians fans think that, because of their team’s name and mascot, it’s totally acceptable to show up in public looking like this. Wahoo as an official trademark of a Major League Baseball club gives people license to dress up in redface — or in this case, red and blackface — with headdresses on, turning a real people and a real culture into a degrading caricature. It’s not just a cartoon character by a long shot. To many it’s a get-out-being-called-a-racist-free card.

As for “nobody cares,” well, yes, someone does. Go read this from Sterling HolyWhiteMountain over at ESPN, talking about both Chief Wahoo as a symbol and America’s treatment and conception of Native Americans as a whole. It’s moving stuff that puts lie to the idea that “nobody cares.” It likewise puts lie to the false choice so many Chief Wahoo defenders reference in which they argue that people should care more about actual injustices visited upon Native Americans and not mascots. One can and should care about those injustices. And one can do that while simultaneously finding Chief Wahoo to be an odious symbol that serves to dehumanize people. Once people are dehumanized, it’s far easier to treat them as something less-than-human, of course.

But it’s not just Native Americans or anti-Wahoo folks like me who care. While I have been critical of Major League Baseball for not taking its own stand against Wahoo publicly, it seems pretty clear at this point that the league is weary of Wahoo and is looking to pressure the Indians to eliminate it. Last night, at the Hank Aaron Award ceremony, Manfred spoke more expansively about Wahoo than he did the day before. Manfred is a lawyer and he does not choose his words carelessly. Read this and parse it carefully:

“I know that that particular logo is offensive to some people, and all of us at Major League Baseball understand why. Logos are, however, primarily a local matter. The local club makes decisions about its logos. Fans get attached to logos. They become part of a team’s history. So it’s not easy as coming to the conclusion and realizing that the logo is offensive to some segment.

“I’ve talked to Mr. [Indians owner and CEO Paul] Dolan about this issue. We’ve agreed away from the World Series at an appropriate time we will have a conversation about this. I want to understand fully what his view is, and we’ll go from there. At this point in this context, I’m just not prepared to say more.”

Yes, he’s still trying to be diplomatic, but note how he (a) acknowledges that Wahoo is offensive to some people; (b) that “all of us at Major League Baseball understand why” and (c) does not validate the views of those who do not find it offensive. He acknowledges that they feel that way due to history, but he does not say, as I inferred from his previous comments the day before, that both sides have merit. Indeed, he says he’d like to hear Paul Dolan’s side, suggesting that while he’ll listen to argument, he doesn’t buy the argument as it has yet to be put.

I still wish that MLB would come out hard and strong against Wahoo publicly, but the more I listen to Manfred on this and read between the lines, the more I suspect that Major League Baseball is finally fed up with Wahoo and that it wants to do something to get rid of it. That it’s not just the hobby horse of pinko liberals like me. I believe Manfred realizes that, in 2016, Chief Wahoo is an embarrassment to an organization like Major League Baseball. Maybe, because of p.r. and political considerations, he doesn’t want to stand on a soapbox about it at the World Series, but I believe he wants to put an end to it all the same.

You can call me names for being against Wahoo all you want. But you can’t say it’s a non-issue. You can’t say that it’s just a cartoon character and you can’t say that nobody cares. To do that is an exercise in denial. I have come to believe that Major League Baseball cares and that it’s going to push hard to make the 2016 World Series the last time it is embarrassed by anachronistic racism on its biggest stage ever again.

Game 2 is going to be the poster child for pace of play arguments this winter

CLEVELAND, OH - OCTOBER 26:  Zach McAllister #34 of the Cleveland Indians is relieved by manager Terry Francona during the fifth inning against the Chicago Cubs in Game Two of the 2016 World Series at Progressive Field on October 26, 2016 in Cleveland, Ohio.  (Photo by Gregory Shamus/Getty Images)
Getty Images

In August, it was reported that Major League Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred would like to implement pitch clocks, like those in use in the minor leagues for the past two seasons, to improve the pace-of-play at the major league level. You can bet that last night’s Game 2 will be the lead argument he uses against those who would oppose the move.

The game was moved up an hour in order to get it in before an impending storm. By the time the rain finally started falling the game had been going on for three hours and thirty-three minutes. It should’ve been over before the first drop fell, but in all it lasted four hours and four minutes. It ended in, thankfully, only a light rain. The longest nine-inning game in postseason history happened a mere two weeks ago, when the Dodgers and Nationals played for four hours and thirty two minutes. There thirteen pitchers were used. Last night ten pitchers were used. Either way, the postseason games are dragging on even for those of us who don’t mind devoting four+ hours of our night to baseball. It is likely putting off more casual fans just tuning in for the Fall Classic.

It’s not all just dawdling, however. Yes, the pitchers worked slowly and a lot of pitching changes took place, but strikeouts, walks and the lack of balls in play contribute to longer games as well. We saw this both last night and in Game 1, which was no brisk affair despite each starting pitcher looking sharp and not working terribly slowly. Twenty-four strikeouts on Tuesday night had a lot to do with that. Last night featured 20 strikeouts and thirteen — thirteen! — walks. It’s not just that the games are taking forever; the very thing causing them to drag feature baseball’s least-kinetic forms of excitement.

But no matter what the cause for the slower play was — and here it was a combination of laboring pitchers, the lack of balls in play and, of course, the longer commercial breaks in the World Series — Manfred is likely to hold Game 2 up as Exhibit A in his efforts to push through some rules changes to improve game pace and game time. So far, the centerpiece of those efforts is the pitch clock, which has proven to be successful and pretty non-controversial in the minor leagues. It would not surprise me one bit if, at this year’s Winter Meetings in Washington, a rule change in that regard is widely discussed.