The Greene Line

When I was 21, it was a very good year.

Baseball returned to the forefront of America's recreational discourse, and all was right with the world.

Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa put the fannies in the seats, the beers in the hands, the yearbooks in the pocket books and the bosses in the luxury boxes.

The people spoke of eclipsing Roger Maris and the corporate types spoke of rebuilding downtown areas with shiny new old-time baseball arenas. No more cookie-cutters! More ballparks with character; with nooks and crannies and doodads and gobblygooks and plush seats and waiter service for RJR Nabisco's senior executive vice president in charge of bureaucracy.

Positive externalities to the struggling central business districts of our cities, and excitement about the local sports team. Entrepreneurship, gains to trade, capitalism.

It's as American as "Let's play two."

But let's make sure it's a day-night doubleheader so we can charge separate admission. Also, let's tear down Fenway Park.

Mmmm...money. Baseball is back.

It was a very good year because my beloved New York Yankees enjoyed a dream season and won an American-League-record 114 games.

David Wells pitched a perfect game. Bernie Williams won a batting title. A team everyman could root for won like no team had won before, and it was my team.

And they ate Creatine for breakfast. Bacon and eggs, eat your heart out. Bernie plays great classical guitar, but he is not a role model.

Be like me. Build up your testosterone levels through untested and potentially hazardous drugs, hit the ball really, really far and get money! Make money for your team and its owner, who needs more money.

Why else would George Steinbrenner want to abandon The Stadium for a multi-billion dollar ballpark on the west side of Manhattan? Surely he knows that the money could be used to help people; real people, not stock symbols or baseball team owners or grown millionaires playing a kid's game.

Build a hospital! Add a public school! Pay a teacher!

Instead he wants the city to build a combination stadium/fantasy land. Must be hard times for Boss George. The most valuable team in professional sports isn't much of an asset these days.

Of course, that's why we needed the magic of 1998, the wizardry of the Invisible Hand, the miracle of androstenedione--to save this ailing game.

Speaking of which...

70? 66? Let us pause for a moment, in mourning of baseball's once-hallowed statistical legacy.

Three men in baseball history have hit 50 home runs in back-to-back seasons--Mark McGwire, Ken Griffey Jr. and Babe Ruth. The first two have both done it since 1995; Ruth did it in 1927 and 1928.

No one hit 50 home runs in the 1980s. Five men have done so since 1995.

There was a strike in 1994 and many of the owners worried that the fans would not come back and that businesses would shy away from the grand old game. All of a sudden the hitter's Renaissance was born.

Some say the ball is juiced. 70? 66? Nah.

Some say the players are "stronger." Well, at least their medicine cabinets are bigger.

Some say the pitching has been watered down from overexpansion. You may not know it yet, but Arizona, you want a baseball team. Charlotte, you want a hockey team. Vancouver, you want a basketball team.

More luxury boxes for me, more crappy teal and/or purple teams with cartoon character logos for you. It's better for both of us. Trust me.

62 home runs. Priceless.

Yeah, right.