Ken Griffey Jr.'s fading milestone

Growing up, I wasn't really into hockey, which is odd for a kid from a hockey obsessed town like Toronto. I was disinterested in it because I was (and am) a terrible skater. But baseball? Baseball I loved. After all, I was nine and ten years old when the Jays won their World Series, it was before the strike season, and dammit, I was good at baseball.

My favourite player was, easily, Ken Griffey Jr. He was classy but competitive, and tall and thin just like me. I used to stand in my driveway and practice swinging my bat, trying to emulate his swing. I now realize that I could not have chosen a better role model for my swing. It's picture perfect: full of grace and power, efficiently slicing through the air. Griffey's swing can put the ball anywhere on the field, or, if he chooses, past the outfield fences.

That's why I was saddened to read Tim Brown's article on Griffey and the Silent 600, which highlights something that I had also noticed: although Ken Griffey Jr. is approaching the impressive milestone of 600 career home runs, there is little fanfare or media coverage. Even the hometown Reds fans aren't excited about this milestone.

Of all the home run hitters in the modern era, he, along with Frank Thomas, are some of the few to have escaped without getting caught up in the steroid madness. Griffey's body doesn't fit the stereotypical HGHers mold, and there is no doubt that a lot of his success comes from the sweetness of his swing, not of a syringe.

For me, the defining moment of Griffey's career wasn't on the field, but instead at the end of his tenure with the Mariners. His teammate Alex Rodriguez had signed on with the Texas Rangers for the largest baseball contract of all time, and the New York Yankees were approaching Griffey with a similarly bloated offer. Instead, he chose to go to his hometown Cincinnati Reds for considerably less. Although this did nothing to stem the tide of outrageous contracts in the late 1990s, I still admired Griffey's priorities.

Similarly, Griffey is an iconoclast today. A man who's reached a milestone through all natural means, but gets no attention for it, unlike last years cavalcade of shame while Barry Bonds approached the all-time record.

Ultimately, I think this is going to be the aftermath of the post-strike steroid era. The public's trust has been broken, and the honest, hard working and clean ball players will suffer because they don't get the credit they deserve, while the puffed up home run heroes like Jason Giambi attract all the media coverage for apologies where they do not actually say what they're apologizing for.

But for me, I still have my Reds cap, and my Ken Griffey Jr. unauthorized biography comic book, and I can't wait for him to hit his 600th homerun and truly earn his way into Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, because he was, and is, one of my baseball heroes.

Book Review: A Fighter's Heart

One of the fastest growing sub-genres in sports writing is that of Martial Arts, particularly, Mixed Martial Arts. Thanks to television shows like the Ultimate Fighter and feature films like Redbelt. There are books on how to roll, how to train, the importance of a good striking game, and, of course, the biographies of fighters like Chuck Liddell and Matt Hughes.

However, the book that stands head and shoulders above the rest is A Fighter's Heart by Sam Sheridan.

A Fighter's Heart is a memoir that details Sheridan's involvement and growing understanding of professional fighting. His story begins in Australia, where he takes up Muay Thai kickboxing as a way of staying fit and spending his considerable savings earned from being a ship's mate aboard a private yacht. He moves from Australia to the fabled Fairtex gym in Thailand, and then on to training with Pat Miletich in the American Midwest, he practices Brazilian Jiu-Jitsiu with Brazilian Top Team in Rio, trains with an Olympic boxer in Oakland, tries tai chi in New York City with a master and even goes to Myanmar to see dog and cock fighting; throughout the journey he reflects on fighting and why it fascinates us.

It is these reflections that make the book. There are already countless books on how to train, how to fight, which strategies are the best, all of that. Sheridan's book covers some of that, but really, it explores why we fight. Of particular interest is the concept of "gameness". Our fascination with the ability to keep fighting, past the thresholds of pain and logic. It's a fascinating concept, and Sheridan does a great job of exploring it.

Honestly, I didn't know what to expect when I began reading this book, but after skimming the first chapter while at the World's Biggest Bookstore, I was intrigued. Sheridan's writing is engaging, and definitely a page-turner, a rarity in the world of fighter's autobiographies that are too often ghost-written and/or uninspired. He drew me in with his story, and his reflections on the value of gameness have stuck with me.

This is a book that would appeal to fight fans and novices alike. Highly recommended.