I Just Work Here, People. Sorry.

I am pleased to report that Al Galdi is alive and well.

In fact, he is in the ESPN980 bullpen every morning when me, Scotty, and Solly prepare to do the "Steve Czaban Show" on Fox Sports Radio from the same studio we've been doing it from now for almost 5 years. Only it used to be the "First Team On Fox."

I could even drag him in during a segment, if I wanted to.

Unfortunately, Fox Sports Radio terminated Al on inauguration day as part of a Clear Channel company-wide shedding of over 1,000 jobs. Al was techincally a part-timer, but he too apparently had to go.

Al remains a full time update anchor and reporter for ESPN980. Just as I remain a full time employee there, as does Scott, as does Solly.

I cannot give you, the curious listener, a coherent reason for this change. It was not my decision, and my passionate pleas to reconsider have apparently fallen on deaf ears.

Just so I was sure, I asked Al if he was making a lot of money at FSR. Hell, maybe he's got Scott Boras as his agent, what do I know?

He told me the number. I was shocked.

Al was the biggest bargain since Ryan Howard pre-arbitration. Given the massive restructuring/layoffs at FSR, I found his paltry, part-time salary to be inconsequential. No less than 3 full shows were canceled, and another one merged with existing talent from KLAC. All of that didn’t get us under our “luxury tax” I wondered?

Now I don't want this to sound like sour grapes, especially given many of my friends and colleagues at FSR who got vaporized all-together in this "consolidation.” For them, I truly feel sorry. As everybody getting pink slipped these days.

For Al in particular, this is a minor setback. In fact, I think he’s going to come out of this even better in the months ahead. His success is not in question. As I told him personally, I have found that a career is like a baseball game. Setbacks are just one-half of one inning. When “the man” hangs 2 runs on you with a layoff or firing, it’s just his turn at bat. You can post 3 runs yourself in the bottom of the inning, or in any one of the next.

It's a huge loss for my show, however, since Al was quite integrated into everything we do. As you know, we crafted segments like "Hey Galdi!" and "SuperFriends" with his particular expertise in mind. Those segments are now officially DOA.

The "4-wide" chemistry of the show is also blown apart with his loss. As I have come to learn in radio, nothing trumps chemistry and continuity. We had both with Al on board. Not just the nearly 5 years as our anchor, but he was our producer for two years when Scott and I prowled the 7-10 p.m. eastern time slot for FSR.

I've never met anybody who works harder, focuses on his job better, or improves his craft like Al. He's like a little brother to me, and I miss him badly on the show.

So if you, my listener, miss him, just multiply that by 10 and you know how I feel. If it might sound during shows going forward that I don't give a shit, or have "moved on", do not be misled. It's just that as a professional, I owe it to you, the audience, and to my employer to do the best job I can do.

In sports terms, Al Galdi is like my Wes Welker.

Imagine Tom Brady’s shock and dismay if he showed up one day at Patriots camp to be told that they had to cut Welker, his reliable, go-to, slot-machine wideout. “Don’t worry, Tom. You’ve still got Randy Moss, you’ll be fine.”

But again, I don’t control the roster. Never thought it would be an issue. I’m trying my best right now to either find new money to “pay” for Al to return (how ‘bout a bake sale!), or at least convince the powers-that-be of his real value.

It appears to be going nowhere, I regret to report.

In the end, my situation is not unlike that of many of you in corporate life. Sometimes decisions are made without your input that are simply bad ideas. Yet how do you delicately tell those above you who made the call: “this is an awful idea, but you are not an idiot for making it. Honest mistake. Now, how about we try to fix it?”

Al Galdi is going to be fine. In fact, if you want to reach out to him, just drop me an e-mail, and I’ll forward it to him personally. I’d like to be the middleman on this, because I appreciate reading your thoughts on Al’s work too, and always enjoy comparable stories of corporate silliness. Mine, is probably minor compared to some others.

As always, you can get your little dose of Al on Czabe.com with me and Scott on our awesomely illustrated “Czabecasts” by way of the boys at SIM.

In the meantime, we press on. And that’s all I’m going to say at this time.

It's All Junk, People

One of the biggest enduring myths in sports, is that somehow MLB’s All-Star game is the “most realistic” of all the All Star games.

To quote Monty Burns: “Pish.. posh!”

Yeah, once upon a time Ray Fosse got his shoulder busted up by Pete Rose, and if I have to hear that old chestnut one more time I’m going to punch a small furry animal in the face.

(Side note: Please watch that highlight again, and notice how Rose stumbles coming home, making the collision all but unavoidable.)

Yeah, the MLB all-star game is now played “for something” so at least guys aren’t getting on lear-jets to go home by the 7th inning.

But otherwise, please. It’s really no better than the others. Pitchers in real games don’t go 2 innings and out, even if they are lights out. The best hitters in the game aren’t pulled after 2 AB’s so that somebody else can “get a turn.”

And we don’t really know how hard hitters are grinding at bats. We don’t know if pitchers are really at 100% throttle, or more like 90%. How often are guys situational hitting, versus just jacking and hacking?

Look, I’m not saying the Pro Bowl or the NBA and NHL All-Star games are any better. In fact, they are likely a little bit worse.

Little bit. Emphasis. LITTLE.

When people say “rank ‘em” I say “why bother?” None are real games. It’s like ranking the sexiest drive-thru attendants in your neighborhood. You wouldn’t sleep with any of them.

So for all the baby-boomer, seamhead baseball fanatics, pipe down. They are all just an excuse to have a big shrimp cocktail party the night before, and get paid something extra. Hopefully, without getting hurt.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Speaking of the Pro Bowl, I now believe it’s a mistake to move the game around. But we’ll see how it feels and plays next year in Miami. Already, Ray Lewis has said he has no plans on going even if he makes the team, because it’s “no vacation” like a week in Hawaii with your friends and family.

And you can multiply that feeling by about 100 when the Super Bowl rolls into Indy in three years. Hell, even the good folks there will tell you that.

And what’s so wrong with keeping the Pro Bowl as a glorified retreat/bonus weekend for the warriors we worship every Sunday during the fall? Don’t they deserve Hawaii? Won’t you miss the kitschy luau shirts and surfing shots coming out of commercial break?

Peyton Manning had a really interesting interview on the sideline between possessions. Andrea Kramer mentioned that Manning is called “the mayor” in Hawaii for his persistent visits. Manning joked that he was “recruiting” about 3 different guys: Haynesworth, Ware, and Marshall. He also said it was nice to get to meet some of his fellow pros and spend some time. He said because there were so many new guys, it validated the voting system (well, not exactly) as rewarding the guys who are having good seasons.

Manning in about 90 seconds convinced me that moving the game might just be wrong. Our gladiators deserve this week in paradise, and it’s cool to think of them sharing stories over coconut drinks at night. It’s their business convention. Let them enjoy it.

In fact, why not have a series of 1-hour televised award shows, or highlight shows during the week. Let the players get up on stage, and goof around with each other little bit. Let US get to know them too, outside of the constant death grip of the regular season and playoffs.

Think about it. Whenever we hear from players in the NFL, it’s either after a loss (when they are obligated to act like somebody in their family just died) or after a win (when they must grimly admonish everybody that there’s “more work to do.”)

The NFL might want to consider this. After all, not everybody in the league is a make-it-rain criminal in waiting. In fact, most are pretty normal, surprisingly smart, often very funny, everyday kind of guys.

That said. Good night, sweet football. Thank you. Thank you as always, for giving our lives such joy, and our week to week existence meaning. We’ll see you in August.

Kiss.

Barry Digs In Before Final Court At Bat

I’m torn.

On the one hand, I believe Barry Bonds is a bag of shit human being, who has brought suffering, financial difficulty, and legal entanglement to many of his so-called “friends” by trying to out-run the feds on this steroid perjury charge.

On the other hand, fuck his friends. They chose to get in bed with the guy. So what do I care?

I think by now, the only people still willing to claim Bonds NEVER took steroids are the same small percentage of holdouts who think OJ didn’t do it. Which is about the same number of soldiers holed up in island tunnels in the South Pacific unable to concede that WWII is over.

There’s plenty of evidence, and it’s not just his ballooning hat size, or grotesque muscles.

That evidence, however, has largely been cut down to size by the judge in the perjury case. A move that I concur with, and cite this well written argument by Gwen Knapp in the San Francisco chronicle as to exactly how and why Bonds shouldn’t be strung up by urine samples that should have never been accessible in the first place, and destroyed anyway once they were.

Greg Anderson did his hard time in jail for contempt of court, and is now in the clear (pardon the pun) legally. He won’t sing on Bonds in this case either. So the government’s usually slam-dunk case in these things has a pretty big set of Dikembe Mutumbo factors looming to stuff it and wag it’s finger in triumph.

While it would bring me great joy to see Bonds and Clemens sitting side by side in a cell block for 6-10 months, a part of me would sort of like to see Bonds actually win in the end.

Against all odds, Bonds could step out on those courthouse steps, flash a big ol’ fuck-you smile, and say: “See. What? Steroids? See you in Cooperstown, suckas!”

Only I’ve been told that likely won’t happen no matter what this court case delivers as a verdict. Washington Times columnist Thom Loverro laughed in my face yesterday when asked what percentage chance Bonds would have with the HOF voters if he somehow beat this rap.

“Zero!” said Thommy, chortling like ol’ Kris Kringle!

Really? I asked.

“Yeah… really.”

Thom then said he would pay good money to see Bonds get in, only to travel that summer to upstate NY to watch how many empty seats would be on stage in protest by the old timers, whose records were slaughtered by Bonds and everyone else in the steroid era.

I would normally chalk up Thom’s opinion as a merely anti-Bonds rant.

But then again, he’s a long time baseball man, and actually VOTES for the HOF and talks to his fellow writers about this stuff all the time.

So I sheepishly asked about Clemens.

Another laugh.

“Zero?” I asked.

“None.” He said.

So in the end, both guys may beat their raps in court, but the mission of walking through the Hall’s doors, has apparently sailed already.

The lawyers, however, will get paid.