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Pointless Nostalgia Pt. 3: The 1989 NBC Spring Training Preview

Amongst the Vast Scratchbomb Video Archives, I have a VHS tape with previews for the 1989 season. These relics are quite demonstrative of the timeless nature of baseball. The players change, managers come and go, but the game remains the same.

Most importantly, the previews themselves have almost identical production. I mean, practically down to the minute. The two NBC specials are so identical, in fact, that they are both followed by the same exact women's golf event. (You'll have to take my word for it; I didn't make clips because I didn't believe anyone would really be jazzed to check out the leader's board from the Dinah Shore Classic.) I think people had less discerning visual palates back then, and were more willing to accept things they'd seen in the exact same format for several years on end. Or, more likely, it's only nerds like me who hang onto tapes like this so they can mock sports producers from 20 years ago.

Of course, you'll have to take my word on one of the 1989 previews and the derivativeness demonstrated therein. The preview in question was produced by This Week In Baseball. As I found out to my dismay, I am verboten to share this show with you by the fearsome MLBAM Guard Dogs. Therefore, you will be denied Mel Allen's cockeyed optimism and how 'bout that drawl. You will also be denied a glimpse of an extremely young Randy Johnson as he tried to break through on the Expos. All I can tell you is that even in his early 20s, Randy Johnson looked like a grizzled prospector who just got done strangling the life out of a dirty mangy claim jumper.

So I'm going to run two posts culled from this tape. The first one will feature some clips from an NBC Sports preview of the 1989 baseball season, which is still kosher for the time being (unless one of you snitches rats me out, and if you do I'll know who done it, punk). My subsequent post will look at some of the wacky commercials contained on the tape, most of which have no baseball content at all and will simply entertain my idiotic love of old ads. Because if you can't indulge yourself, who can you indulge?

This is how NBC starts its spring training preview. We see the Dodgers winning the World Series, then a montage of significant events that followed to demonstrate the passing of time. Snow covering what looks like Yankee Stadium. Bush the First being sworn in as president. The 49ers winning Super Bowl XXIII. Yankee Stadium under snow again. And of course, Emperor Hirohito's funeral (?). The spring can not commence, evidently, until a decrepit powerless monarch dies.

NBC's correspondents give us their take on baseball's big stories for the upcoming season. Tom Seaver looks much less embittered than he does nowadays as he previews the National League with Vin Scully. Unlike the year before, Vin resists the temptation to pop everyone's balloon. Seaver wisely notes that though the Mets are tough they could "beat themselves" (see below). For some reason, Vin thinks the Padres could be tough, though beyond the acquisition of Bruce Hurst he doesn't elaborate how. Could it be Tony Gwynn? The soon-to-be-suspiciously-bulky John Kruk? Their awesome brown and orange hats?

Bob Costas tackles the AL West by basically talking about how awesome the A's are. He tries real hard to make the Royals and Twins sound competitive, to no avail. Tony Kubek picks Toronto with little debate in the AL East. Gayle Gardner turns out to be the most on-the-mark: she predicts a season of "parity" and competitiveness, which seems about right when you consider neither NL division winners were heavy favorites before the season began.

Marv Albert glosses over his own intros to move right onto the big scandal of the 1989 season: the Pete Rose gambling accusations. As you'll see here, Charlie Hustle treats the whole thing like a big joke. And the dutiful beat writers laugh along with him. A few months later, he wasn't laughing. Douche.

Pete Rose wasn't the only baseball scandal going into the 1989 season. It's virtually forgotten now, but Wade Boggs got into a heap of trouble when his mistress, Margo Adams, went public with their affair. In this clip, several players and writers are queried on their opinion of delving into athlete's lives off the field (with a Joe Jackson soundtrack). A few of the players chosen now seem ironic options due to their own off- and on-the-field indiscretions: Mark McGwire (roids), Keith Hernandez (blow), Darryl Strawberry (you name it).

Old timers like Red Schoendienst and Ralph Kiner lament the old days when a ballplayer could cheat on his wife with the tacit approval of beat writers. (They don't actually say this; I'd just like to needlessly read that into their comments.) The vets also lament the intense media scrutiny of the day; as always "intense media scrunity" is represented by a bunch of TV monitors in a control room. I find it quaint that they considered 1989 a year of "intense media scrunity," at a time when there was no internet and only three major networks, and ESPN was just Chris Berman and a couple of tin can telephones.

The clip also has some great footage of player flameouts of days past, like a shirtless Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrbosky screaming at a reporter, and Danny Cox pulling a Kenny Rogers on some poor cameraman. So you see, players could be assholes years ago, too.

Bart Giamatti's rule as commissioner of baseball was brief but tumultuous. He laid the smackdown on Pete Rose, then dropped dead of a heart attack, felled by the stress of the whole sordid affair (being a chain smoker probably didn't help things). I suspect there never would've been a strike in 1994 if he'd lived that long--or if MLB had a real, independent commissioner instead of an owner's puppet like Bud Selig. But we'll never know, will we? This clip portrays the early, hopeful days of Giamatti's reign.

It also profiles new National League president Bill White. I remember White mostly from WPIX Yankees broadcasts of my youth, when the poor man desperately tried to call the game between Phil Rizzuto's ramblings. Bill White was like Michael on "Arrested Development" to Scooter's Bluth family: a lone isle of reason surrounded by an ocean of insanity. Such an assignment would've killed a lesser man, but Bill White never even raised his voice. He thoroughly deserved the NL post, if only to award him for a decade-plus of thankless labors.

I wrote about my erstwhile fascination with Dick McCormick's songs of 1988. A lot can happen in one year. I don't remember loving this tune with anything near the passion that I had in the previous year. In fact, I don't remember this tune at all, though the song from '88 remains tattooed on my brain. I would say I'd evolved as a person if I wasn't sure I was still listening to Weird Al at the time.

Fresh off his 40-40 season, Jose Canseco makes some lofty predictions for himself, promising to hit the 50-50 plateau and bat .350. Of course, the Johnny Appleseed of 'Roids bit off more than he could chew; after 1988, Canseco would never steal more than 29 bases in season and only cracked .300 once more (1995, a season when he had fewer than 400 at-bats). Canseco injured his wrist that spring, a boo-boo he blamed on a minor car crash. Responsible leader Tony LaRussa counsels Jose that if he crashes his car, make sure he doesn't take anyone else with him. Good advice, skip.

The big news of the 1988 season was the Dodgers' improbable World Series victory. In this clip, Kirk Gibson celebrates his moment in history with a hubris not often found outside of a Sophocles play. He even thanks "the big Dodger in the sky" for "choosing him" (pardon me while I vomit). With his typical restraint and perspective, Pasta Vaccuum Tommy Lasorda calls the Dodgers' title "one of the greatest upsets in baseball history". Watch as he and Gibby address a World Series parade crowd as if they're leading a fascist rally. It would be scary if it didn't sound like there were about 12 people in attendance. This was LA, after all.

Speaking of the Dodgers, LA acquired Willie Randolph for the 1989 season. His comments in this clip are pretty interesting considering his current post.

Despite a disappointing 7-game loss to the Dodgers in the NLCS, the Mets had high hopes going into 1989. They had an outstanding pitching staff and a powerful lineup. What could possibly go wrong? Um, everything, apparently. The laundry list of reasons for the Mets' implosion is far too long to expound here (and rookie bust Gregg Jeffries makes up the first twenty slots in that litany). This clip provides an ironic look at team that couldn't possibly fail, but did. You'll catch a glimpse of the turmoil to come, with some shots of the infamous Picture Day dustup between Keith Hernandez and Darryl Strawberry. You'll also find out that Keith didn't mind missing out on the World Series because it meant he could watch more Knick games. Seriously.

Following Failed Billy Martin Experiment #5, the Yankees hired Dallas Green as their manager. I totally forgot that he managed the Yanks, and I have a feeling most Yankees fans have (or wish they could). Green was also responsible for shredding several young arms as Mets manager, so his popularity in New York ranges from vague dislike to searing hatred. Enjoy his assessment of the 1989 season--if he set the bar for the Yanks any lower, he'd have to dig a hole to put it in.

Apart from being a not-too-secret Nazi, Marge Schott was notoriously cheap. How cheap? She actually flips Cal Daniels to determine his salary for the 1989 season, as you'll see here. Probably made him use his own coin, too.

Speaking of dough, Dick McCormick sings a song about how much money players make. Players' salaries always seem to gall people, though nobody's really bothered by the astronomical salaries of the jagoffs in the front office, even though most of them can neither throw nor hit curveballs.

Posted 02.26.07 11:47pm * Permalink

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