Safer?

The Post Office is far too maligned for the job they do. The great majority of the time, they take packages across the country in a matter of days for a fraction of what it would cost to send it some other way. They’re reliable, convenient, and bring the mail right to your door, leaving it in your mailbox without a signature whether you’re home or not.

But since TWA Flight 800 crashed into Long Island Sound, they’ve fallen victim to terrorist paranoia and refused to allow consumers to stick anything in a mailbox weighing over 16 ounces. The latest package returned to my home was a Priority Mail Envelope bearing the following label:

IMPORTANT CONSUMER INFORMATION
We regret that your mail is being returned to you because of heightened security measures. All domestic mail, weighing 16 ounces or over, that bears stamps and all international and military APO/FPO mail weighing 16 ounces or over, MUST be presented to a retail clerk at a post office.

This despite the fact that I used the Postal Service’s formerly convenient Flat Rate Regardless of Weight Envelope to mail my package.

Memo to the Postal Service: the point of the Flat Rate Envelope is to save consumers a trip to the Post Office. If we have to present it to a retail clerk, the flat rate isn’t a time saver.

Moreover, what is the point of handing something to a retail clerk? What is this heightened security? What is this highly skilled civil servant going to do to my package to make it safer for the esteemed letter carriers of the Postal Service to carry it across the country? Shake it? Sniff it? Put it through a bomb-detecting device? Ha!

Let’s assume for a moment that I was sending a bomb in my flat rate envelope. If my intent was to wreak havoc, wouldn’t I be a whole lot more effective at doing that by going into a post office and unleashing the kind of mayhem on the staff that their frazzled co-workers are already legendary for doing?

If I really did have a bomb, why would I leave it in an envelope sitting in the bottom of a mailbox on a city street? Some personal vendetta against mailboxes? And if I really did hate mailboxes so much, why would I even need the packaging? I’d just drop a bomb into the box without any return address at all.

But this is what our government is worried about. Rather than prepare for utterly predictable crises like New Orleans being flooded, attacks on our nuclear plants, or explosives at the cargo ports, the government is concerned that mail bombs be delivered directly to a retail agent at the Post Office.

So come on in, terrorists. Blow holes in our levees. Infiltrate our ports. Cut our electricity. Clog up our highways. Just don’t you dare try to mail a package over 16 ounces or take a backpack on the subway. Cuz we’re wise to you.

Chemistry Lesson

Whenever a team with talent fails to produce the expected amount of victories, the pundits usually blame that scapegoat chemistry. Something about the mix of players supposedly caused the whole to be less than the sum of its parts.

When the New York Mets of the early 1990s finished last instead of first despite the addition of high-priced free agents like Bobby Bonilla, chemistry was cited as the problem. The dreadful falloff of the Baltimore Orioles after 1997 was traced to chemistry. And of course the failure of the highest-priced team in baseball, the New York Yankees, to win the World Series any of the past four years, can be traced to the chemical change that occurred when veterans like Paul O’Neill, Tino Martinez, Joe Girardi, Scott Brosius, and Chuck Knoblauch were removed from the mix.

The pundits, and especially the handwringers, usually agree that the best chemistry comes from a group of players who came up together through the farm system. Only by riding buses and sharing dilapidated motel rooms do players create the kind of bonds between men that allow them to drive each other home from third with less than two outs.

The reason, supposedly, that the Yankees are in such a void these days is that they have stopped building through the farm system and have brought in a bunch of mercenary free agents. Forget the fact that the championship teams of the 1970s were all bought and paid for, and consisted of a bunch of guys who hated each other. Only by returning to their roots, the reasoning goes, will the Bronx Bombers return to glory.

Hogwash.

The Yankees’ fortunes have no doubt plummeted since they started trading away prospects for veterans. But the aforementioned cogs of the 1998-2000 championship clubs were all acquired from other teams. Not a one came through Columbus. Meanwhile, who is it that anybody thinks is the Jay Buhner of the 21st century? Brad Halsey? Jake Westbrook? Eric Milton? Ed Yarnall? Scott Seabol? Ricky Ledee? Juan Rivera? Brandon Claussen? Stop me before I name an all-star. Or even a top tier player. (Yes, I know, Alfonso Soriano. But you can’t find me a GM who wouldn’t trade Soriano straight up for Alex Rodriguez.)

Meanwhile, the teams that have succeeded in the past several years have hardly been built on a nucleus of home grown players. Witness last year’s champs, the Boston Red Sox. Johnny Damon was signed as a free agent. So was Manny Ramirez. Kevin Millar, Mark Bellhorn, David Ortiz , Keith Foulke, and Curt Schilling too. Boston traded for Bill Mueller, Orlando Cabrera, Jason Varitek, Pedro Martinez, Tim Wakefield, and Jason Varitek (though he played his entire big league career for the Sox). Of the regulars on the 2004 Championship team, only Trot Nixon came through the farm system.

The St. Louis Cardinals are another example. The only home grown players on the last year’s pennant-winning squad were Albert Pujols and Matt Morris. Everybody else—Edgar Renteria, Jim Edmonds, Scott Rolen, Jason Isringhausen, Mike Matheny, Larry Walker, Reggie Sanders, Tony Womack, Jason Marquis, Chris Carpenter, even Jeff Suppan—came via trade or free agency, and all within the past five years. In fact, the Cardinals revamped three-quarters of their starting rotation in 2004 alone, with no ill effect on the chemistry.

Going back a year farther, the Florida Marlins did not take particular advantage of their farm system. Most people cite strength up the middle as a key to success. But the Marlins’ catcher (Ivan Rodriguez,) shortstop (Alex Gonzalez) and centerfielder (Juan Pierre, whose sprints in from the outfield symbolized the pure joy of playing baseball) were all imports.

Yet that Marlins team was boiling over with chemistry. If they had had any more chemistry, the Bush Administration might have cooked up reasons for an invasion of South Florida. The Marlins were seriously undermatched against the Yankees, yet they won easily in six games for reasons that have little to do with how long the players knew each other, but had everything to do with chemistry. After the championship year, Rodriguez went to Detroit, Derrek Lee was traded to Chicago (for Hee Seop Choi--oops, my bad), Brad Penny was dealt to the Dodgers, and Carl Pavano signed with the Yankees.

Do the Marlins still have that chemistry today? Certainly they have a talented pitching staff. Do the Cardinals have chemistry after changing their catcher, shortstop and second baseman in the 2005 off-season? Do the Red Sox, who let two-fifths of their rotation escape to free agency? With four weeks to go in the season, the answer is yes for two, and possibly all three of those teams.

Chemistry is tricky. It’s easy to identify its absence. The 2005 Yankees are the most obvious example, and the Dodgers are doing a pretty good imitation of it. And some years, chemistry isn’t enough to overcome superior talent. The Minnesota Twins have had lots of chemistry over the years, but it hasn’t gotten them past the first round of the playoffs.

But can you create chemistry? Probably not. It’s nearly impossible to imagine how a group of 25 grown men with egos as big as their biceps will get along together. But you can recognize good chemistry and make sure you don’t screw it up. There are countless examples of GMs who are guilty in this regard.

Paul DePodesta did it to the Dodgers in the middle of 2004, trading away team leader Paul Lo Duca, and did it again in 2005, unloading Shawn Green and ignoring Jose Lima and Adrian Beltre. Brian Cashman did it in 2001, letting Martinez, Knoblauch, and Brosius get away in the same year that O’Neill retired. Billy Beane did it to the A’s in 2005, trading away two thirds of the Big Three and getting so very little in return (although that teams seems to put together a second-half run no matter who they throw on the field).

In recent years, Cashman has tried to atone for those his chemistry mistakes by re-signing players like Martinez and relievers Jeff Nelson and Mike Stanton long after the gas was out of the bottle. But in baseball, like in chemistry, there are some reactions that you can’t undo.

Where are the Decent People?

I had a terrific holiday weekend, in large part because of the things I was able to do for others. Saturday was the day the families moved into their houses at Habitat. The homeowner, Martin, had a barbecue for all the people who helped build his home. Friends, neighbors, cousins, etc. were all there. The house still has power tools all over the place; mismatched chairs and folding tables turned the garage into a makeshift dining room. But the spirit of hospitality was genuine. It was more enjoyable than so many fancy parties I've been to where things were just so, but the atmosphere was cold as a fish.

Later that afternoon, I went to a second barbecue. The field where I play softball has some barbecue kettles. I’ve long thought that after we play softball, we should have a Saturday evening cookout at the field, where we could invite wives, girlfriends (not at the same time, of course), kids, dogs, etc. to spend that last few hours of sunlight together and grill up some food. We finally agreed to do it on Saturday and it was a lot of fun. The people involved were not in need of a home like the Habitat folks, but it was just a nice opportunity to spend time together.

In both instances, people took time to thank me for the contributions I had made to the respective communities over the year. In the softball scenario, I had done little more than suggest a good idea and bring some charcoal. In the Habitat scenario, I had merely showed up and done what was asked of me. But it was uplifting to know I had made a difference in other people’s lives.

On Sunday, there was yet another barbecue, our local block party. It too was an enjoyable evening, but what I liked even more was the day after (Monday). We got up and helped clean up the block and met our neighbors. Then we all went to the beach, more or less together. It’s nice being in a neighborhood that’s both friendly and tight knit. And at times like these, it’s reassuring to know that although our president and his administration may be the lowest of scum, and although the people who voted for him are ignorant, selfish bastards, there are still some good people in the world.

They may not be the majority of the people, but if I can spend the majority of my time with them, it allows me to think there are more of them than there actually are.