Tonight, I watched the Home Run Derby. Or as I call it, The Really, Really, Really, Really, Really Long Home Run Derby. That "Bronx is Burning" show was supposed to start at 10, but it didn't get going until after 11. Any ESPN-made mini-series isn't going to be of the highest quality. But despite it's cheesy theme song, and the terrible jobs they did with the players' stirrups and the right field corner of Fenway Park, I guess it was pretty--well, I wouldn't say "good," but I made it through part one. Still deciding if I'll make a point to watch part two.

Seriously, those stirrups that I grew up with--are they such ancient history that it's a painstaking effort to even come close to capturing "the look" of them? It's as if there are no existing pictures of them, so they went to nursing homes to interview people to find out what these mysterious things looked like. First mistake: It looked like they were painted on. Second mistake: The white showing underneath was just too wide at the top. The stirrups were closer to upside-down digital U's than to, uh, upside-down non-digital U's. Third mistake: They were the exact same height on every player. I imagine some non-baseball fan costume designer studying just Reggie Jackson's uniform from one picture, and then making every single uniform to those exact specs. "Oh my god, there are these weird black lines painted onto white socks!" In reality, Mickey Rivers showed a lot of black below the pants, while other guys had only the sides of the stirrups showing. You did have the option to wear the stirrups how you wanted--they weren't surgically implanted....

I understand Reggie wasn't too pleased with how he was portrayed in the series. I guess the actor wasn't arrogant or pompous enough.

Oh right, the HR Derby. I always like watching this, but this year's wasn't nearly as good as some past derbies. I wanted to see balls flying out to the waiting kayakers in the cove. But only two or three balls went out there. After the first round, all the lefties were out anyway. Terrible. I also don't like the constant music. One of the best parts of baseball is the crowd reaction. Anticipation. The crack of the bat, the slightest pause, and then, with the realization that the ball is going a long way, an explosion of sound. And in a competition like this, those roars and buildups can carry a hitter. But if all you hear is music, it ruins the whole damn thing. If people won't go to the park if they don't get their stupid circus show, screw 'em. But a businessman would never say "screw 'em" to potential customers. (This is why they say the money is the root of all evil--because nothing's immune to its influence. i.e. It effs up everything that's sacred.)

There was one memorable moment, when Papi brought a new bat out for Vlad Guerrero while he was hitting--in a huge wooden case. Not exactly "Wonder Boy," but fun nonetheless.

I also accidentally caught some of the celebrity softball game, and saw a great moment. Dave Winfield hit a little foul pop straight back--and the catcher, Paul Giamatti, turned, took a step back, reached up, and caught it. A dream play if I ever saw one: A classic Yankee hitting an eight-foot high popup to the son of a Sox fan who isn't even a ballplayer. In softball.