Talking Heads Does the Majors

The 1970s/80s New Wave/post-punk group Talking Heads proves a perfect filter through which to view major league baseball. Hard to believe, perhaps, but true--in fact, one can pick a song that speaks to each of various teams from off of the group's 1992 best-of album, Sand in the Vaseline. To spare you the time, I've already gone ahead and matched the appropriate song to the appropriate team. Here's the first installment:

1. Cleveland Indians--Heaven

"Heaven...heaven is a place. A place where nothing...nothing ever happens...
It's hard to imagine that nothing at all, could be so exciting, could be so much fun."

Hard to imagine, David Byrne, but true--the Indians are sitting on Cloud Nine right now, their team loaded with top young talent supported by a stellar farm system. Cleveland is so well set at every position, in fact, that the brains of the front office have barely lifted a finger this offseason, with their only moves since the Indians' season ended in Game Seven of the ALCS being to pick up the options on a couple of pitchers. The Cleveland front office has run the club so well that it can completely ignore the dangerous waters of free agency, and let voice mail pick up when other clubs come looking to pry some young talent away from the Tribe.

2. Houston Astros--Road To Nowhere

"We're on a road to nowhere,
Come on inside.
Taking that ride to nowhere,
We'll take that ride."

General Manager Ed Wade and the rest of the decrepit Houston organization are taking that ride. The worst farm system in the game, an old roster with no pitching, Brad Ausmus... The team's offseason's trade for Miguel Tejada pretty much sums up where the Astros are headed--they dealt a boatload of crap from their barren minor league system for an aging former MVP, who seems to get a little worse every year. And then, of course, the team's shiny new acquisition gets named in the Mitchell Report, and is now involved in a federal investigation into whether he lied to the government. It's going to be a long trip to oblivion in 2008 for the team that was in the world series just three seasons ago.

3. New York Yankees--Psycho Killer

"I can't seem to face up to the facts
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax
I can't sleep cause my bed's on fire
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire."

This is less a summation of the Yankees than it is a divination of General Manager Brian Cashman's current state of mind. Can you imagine his situation? Already entrusted with the most stressful job in baseball, he has reason to believe that he might finally be given the scope needed to execute the full duties of his position without unneeded meddling from above when George Steinbrenner fades from the scene. But immediately in steps son Hank, and establishes himself as quite possibly a worse tyrant than King George. The younger Steinbrenner starts making more public statements about player personnel moves than George ever did, and informs the media that he's the one making the baseball operations decisions, with Cashman relegated to an advisory role. Poor Cash. I just hope he doesn't go on a killing spree before he gets to leave the Bronx for a club that will appreciate his baseball acumen.

4. Boston Red Sox--Don't Worry About The Government

Is there any doubt that the Sox have taken over the mantle of massive corporate dynastic baseball superpower from the Yankees? Boston is a machine, with one of the best front office brain trusts, a core of outstanding major league talent, and an prodigious farm system that is primed to pump out enough talent to keep the championships coming far into the future. No one's worried about the government, Theo--there's no recession in sight, and frankly, it's getting goddamned irritating.

5. Chicago Cubs--Memories Can't Wait

"Take a walk through the land of shadows
Take a walk through the peaceful meadows
Try not to look so disappointed
It isn't what you hoped for, is it?"

No, 99 years without a title certainly isn't what the faithful on the North Side had hoped for, despite the peaceful meadows of Wrigley Field maintaining their idyllic charm for all that time. The fans may look disappointed, but they still hold out hope that this could be the year. And that tired phrase holds a lot more meaning in 2008--especially if Chicago can pry Erik Bedard from Baltimore...

6. Florida Marlins--Stay Up Late

"Mommy had a little baby
There he is, fast asleep.
He's just a little plaything.
Why not wake him up?
Cute cute, little baby.
Little feet, little toes.
Now he's comin to me.
Crawl across the kitchen floor.

Baby, baby, please let me hold him
I wanna make him stay up all night
Sister, sister, he's just a plaything
We wanna make him stay up all night
Yeah we do

See him drink from a bottle.
See him eat from a plate.
Cute cute, as a button.
Don't you wanna make him stay up late?"

After trading "veterans" Dontrelle Willis and Miguel Cabrera, the average age of your 2008 Marlins is going to be something like 17.4. Florida is in full-blown rebuilding mode for about the fourth time in the last decade, but honestly, you can't really knock the continuous roster explosions when the team pumps out a championship every eight years or so before tearing it down again and starting anew. The Marlins aren't long for Florida, it seems like, and with the collection of young talent they have, cities from Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine should be clamoring for their services. Hey, Kingston, Rhode Island is the youngest town in the country--think it has a shot at landing the Fish?

7. Oakland A's--(Nothing But) Flowers

"There was a factory
Now there are mountains and rivers
you got it, you got it

There was a shopping mall
Now it's all covered with flowers
you've got it, you've got it

If this is paradise
I wish I had a lawnmower
you've got it, you've got it

Once there were parking lots
Now it's a peaceful oasis
you got it, you got it

This was a Pizza Hut
Now it's all covered with daisies
you got it, you got it

I miss the honky tonks,
Dairy Queens, and 7-Elevens
you got it, you got it

And as things fell apart
Nobody paid much attention
you got it, you got it"

IS this paradise? No, son--it's Oakland. No one, however, will be confusing Fremont, where the A's will move in 2010, for Nirvana. Oakland will be playing its second-to-last season in McAfee Coliseum this year, with new Cisco Field and an "Oakland A's at Fremont" tag looming. If you're a fan, as I am, of Oakland as an entity and an idea, a state of being in addition to a team, this is a tragedy of epic proportion. It's only fitting then that the A's will leave their epicly named venue, The Coliseum, behind. (I have a soft spot for stadiums that are called Coliseums. There's a sort of monumental, empty-upper-deck sordidness that the name calls to mind. It's a concrete platform for the real die-hard fans, an evocation of the dusty bloodletting and roaring, primeval emotion of Ancient Rome.) While The Coliseum will still stand to host Raiders games, the A's will be leaving behind nothing but metaphorical flowers--tough, gritty, street-hardened East Bay flowers--at the spot they used to call home.

In any event, here's something to help you deal with the team's impending departure, and the subsequent falling apart of things:



8. Baltimore Orioles--I Zimbra

"Gadji beri bimba clandridi
Lauli lonni cadori gadjam
A bim beri glassala glandride
E glassala tuffm I zimbra"

Shit, I can't decipher what the O's are doing with their once-proud franchise, either. Beats me what Peter Angelos is trying to say. The team certainly speaks a different language--and might as well play in a different country--than the Yankees and Red Sox. Pretty soon, the Rays are going to leave Baltimore's nonsensical realm behind, too. The Orioles shouldn't worry too much, though--the Blue Jays are still chirping away alongside them.

9. Montreal Expos (Washington Nationals)--Take Me To the River

"I don't know why I love her like I do
All the changes you put me through
Take my money, my cigarettes
I haven't seen the worst of it yet

I don't know why you treat me so bad
Think of all the things we could have had

Hug me, squeeze me, love me, tease me
Till I can't, till I can't, till I can't take no more of it
Take me to the water, drop me in the river
Push me in the water, drop me in the river
Washing me down, washing me down"

Some might say this song is better suited for another team--the Cubs maybe, or the Phils. Nah. Not even close. No doubt Talking Heads was singing the forlorn tale of the Expos-turned-Nationals. Few franchise stories are more tragic than that of Montreal, a fantastic baseball town that was slowly strangled to death by the greed and incompetence of Jeffrey Loria and major league baseball. And that's not even taking into account the team's struggles on the diamond. The Expos/Nationals have one playoff appearance--one--in their 39-year history. And if any Québécois has transferred his or her allegiance to the Nats, I hereby nominate you for baseball fan of the century. This song is truly your ballad. In any event, the fans of the reborn D.C. franchise are hoping that they HAVE seen the worst of it, that the ugly departure from Le Stade Olympic was the low-point of franchise history. And now, they're heading to the river to cleanse themselves of the sin that stains the team's history and bask in the good feeling of a brand new ballpark, on the banks of the mighty Anacostia.

[Runner-up: The Milwaukee Brewers. The poor Brew Crew's winning season last year was their first since 1992, and the franchise overall has just two playoff appearances in 38 years. And yes, there is a river in Milwaukee. It's called...well, the Milwaukee River, and there's a very pleasant little walk that runs beside it.]

10. New York Mets--Warning Sign

"Warning sign, warning sign,
I see it but I pay it no mind."

As a Mets fan, where did I go wrong? What did I do to anger the baseball gods, to throw off the cosmos's balance, to upset the perfect harmony of the game? How else can one explain the second-worst collapse in baseball history, blowing a seven-game lead held on September 12? If it was a warning sign, baseball gods, please know that we, the Mets fans, have paid it heed. Now, will you release us from whatever disastrous consequence the Shea Swoon possibly portends?

11. Kansas City Royals--The Big Country

"I see the shapes,
I remember from maps.
I see the shoreline.
I see the whitecaps.
A baseball diamond, nice weather down there.
I see the school and the houses where the kids are.
Places to park by the factories and buildings.
Restaurants and bars for later in the evening.
Then we come to the farmlands, and the undeveloped areas.
And I have learned how these things work together.
I see the parkway that passes through them all.
And I have learned how to look at these things and I say,

I wouldn't live there if you paid me.
I couldn't live like that, no siree!
I couldn't do the things the way those people do.
I couldn't live there if you paid me to.

I guess it's healthy, I guess the air is clean.
I guess those people have fun with their neighbors and friends.
Look at that kitchen and all of that food.
Look at them eat it guess it tastes real good.

They grow it in the farmlands
And they take it to the stores
They put it in the car trunk
And they bring it back home
And I say ...

I say, I wouldn't live there if you paid me.
I couldn't live like that, no siree!
I couldn't do the things the way those people do.
I wouldn't live there if you paid me to."

Well, this is a little harsh, but I understand the sentiment. Kansas City flies the banner for the flyover states--and the poor Royals, like the rest of the Midwest, haven't been relevant since the mid-80's. That was around the time when the idea for the Buffalo Commons first popped up. Coincidence? Or will Kaufman Stadium soon be overrun with grazing ungulates?

The next installment of Talking Heads Does the Majors will arrive soon.