As you no doubt know by now, the San Francisco Giants opted not to tender a contract to their All-Star closer, Brian Wilson. He was due a league-mandated minimum of just under $7 million, and was probably hoping for something closer to $10 million. Apparently the Giants decided he wasn’t worth it, and Wilson is now a free agent. News reports have described Wilson as “angry” that the Giants chose not to re-sign him and he is likely to sign elsewhere. It remains to be seen what kind of deal Wilson will get on the open market. On the one hand, Proven All-Star Closer; on the other, those peripherals, and coming off Tommy John surgery. Intriguing hot-stove action!
When the news came down about the Giants' non-tender, there was some recrimination among San Francisco fans, but not a ton. He was the guy on the mound when they won it all in 2010. His numbers in 2010 were eye-popping: a 2.18 FRA and 1.7 WARP to go along with his 48 saves and World Series ring. He was really good. But then the Giants won the whole thing again in 2012, without Wilson, thereby “proving” that he wasn’t necessary. I heard and read the same thing over and over from Giants fans: Many/most/all said that, while they loved him as a player, they “wouldn’t miss his act.”
We all know what The Act is, of course. It started out innocently enough. Well, perhaps “innocently” is the wrong word, given that Wilson’s first prank on the national stage involved a man (rumored to be Pat Burrell) in fetish gear and a gimp mask. But that was merely a prelude to what would come.
There was the George Lopez appearance, with the dyed beard and meta-captain’s hats. Attending the ESPYs in a lycra tuxedo. That godawful Taco Bell BLACK AWPS commercial. And, of course, the beard. The beard was always there, lurking. It haunted our dreams. It briefly co-hosted a show with Kevin Millar on MLB Network, which was canceled when the beard was found to be smarter and more popular than Millar.
The cumulative effect of these performances was twofold: they raised Brian Wilson’s profile to that of a bona fide celebrity, and they annoyed the living daylights out of every baseball fan I know. Even Giants fans. Wilson recorded the final out of the 2010 World Series, striking out Nelson Cruz on a high, tight fastball. He was the weird-bearded, crazy-eyed face of the franchise, and even Giants fans were admitting that they were totally over him.
I’ve thought a lot (way too much, if I’m being honest) about why this might be. Why do baseball fans, including me, have such violent reactions to Wilson’s harmless antics? He’s not hurting anyone. Yes, Wilson’s displays resemble those of a neglected child, someone who is desperate for attention. But why do I care?
By all rights, I should be delighted by this. I complain about how boring baseball players are in aggregate, and Brian Wilson is anything but. As an anti-authoritarian punk-rock type, I should celebrate him.
Rebels tend not to fare well in baseball, at least during their playing careers. Glenn Burke, Jim Bouton, and Bill Lee all paid heavy prices for stepping out of line. Wilson’s shenanigans thus far aren’t marginally as significant as those guys’, but the dynamic is the same: nails that stick up get hammered down.
And yet when we cast our gaze backward, we fondly remember the rebels and outlaws. Spaceman and Dock Ellis. Bert Blyleven and his FART shirt. These guys stand out. I wasn’t around back then, but I imagine that the baseball orthodoxy, fans and media both, didn’t have much patience for Bill Lee’s shtick either. But people make movies about Dock and Spaceman, and subsequent generations (i.e., me) venerate these guys, while thousands of competent, well-behaved ballplayers fade into the annals of history.
We need to allow for the possibility that Brian Wilson knows this. He might not simply be assuaging a rampant super-ego; he might actually be carving out his legacy and annoying us all a little in the process.
As of this writing, the Beard is still out there, unsigned. There’s still a chance he could play for your team in 2013! If he does (or even if he doesn’t), try this: The next time Brian Wilson does something eye-roll-worthy, don’t roll your eyes. It won’t be easy; I know because I’ve tried it. Take a moment and try to figure out what you’re reacting to. Is it simply that Brian Wilson is doing something he’s not supposed to be doing? If you are personally offended by something he does, then by all means, be offended! That is absolutely your right and I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of it. But in the event that you’re simply reacting to a breach of some hazy unwritten rule, it might be worth further study.
Try taking the long view. What will we think about Brian Wilson’s lycra tux in 2037? In 25 years, will we still insist that athletes “act like they’ve been there before”? Will we remain intent on depriving the actual victors of the same expressions of joy in which we, the fans, participate? Will that seem any less crazy than it does right now?
I suspect it won’t. The issue with these unwritten rules is that as long as they’re nebulous and undefined, their boundaries can be stretched to cover whatever behavior someone finds objectionable. Write them down (Closers shouldn’t be excited, hitters shouldn’t admire their home runs, teams stop trying when they're too far ahead) and they just look silly. Maybe that’s why they stay unwritten.
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The right to make smart-ass remarks is the right that guarantees every other right we cherish, and that makes guys like Brian Wilson superheroes in my eyes.
I love the look in my kid's eyes when Wilson would walk to the mound or talk on camera. That confidence and insanity. I want my kid growing up with role models that are individuals. Otherwise it's all "thank you Jesus for giving us this win," ; "That's a clown question bro,"; "Hot dogs, apple pie and chevrolet," Bullsh*t. Think of what the Wilsons, Lees, Romos, Lincecums and others mean to kids who are athletic, love playing sports, but don't conform to the jock culture. These guys are living proof that if you can bring it on the field then everyone and their opinions can go get f*cked. That's what I love, love, love, about sports, it's a meritocracy.
I met Jose Canseco and I also met Bill Lee when I was kid. Guess who spent a half hour talking with us and who refused to sign autographs or even hang out? Maybe I've just become some weird, over passionate, fatherly dude who's making the role of a crazy closer more than it should be, but f*ck it. I'd rather lose with Wilson then win with the cookie cutters.
So if Wilson comes to your team and you roll your eyes at his schtick, well take a long look in the mirror, cause your probably old and uptight.
My impression of Wilson is that he finds baseball compelling, but the associated lifestyle absurd. Therefore, he mocks the "seriousness" of being paid millions of dollars per year to play a game. From his interviews, he struck me as a very bright guy. It's possible that the routine of answering "You got another save tonight. How did that feel?" just bores him, so he makes a game out of it.
At the end of the day, if I had to pick out professional baseball players to dislike, there is an unfortunately long list of players who have had encounters with law enforcement for drunk driving, spousal abuse, pulling a gun on people at a restaurant... and that's just the reigning AL MVP. Bizarre Taco Bell ads are way down that list.
I love athletes that are weird or at least show off their personality. As an A's fan Johnny Gomes and Dallas Braden's come to mind. As does Josh Reddick's obsession with pro-wrestling.
But they just seem to be being themselves, whereas Wilson seems to be putting on a show.
Two short stories (about me of course). In high school, I had hair just long enough to escape the scissors-wielding priests. I hung out with the wrong crowd, but performed well academically and played sports. I was a conundrum to many. I applied to the National Honors Society and was rejected. Then, the following year, I cut my hair and submitted the exact same essay. I was welcomed with open arms. Appearances matter.
In college, I had a goatee (well, I had a ton of hair for a while too, but I was down to a goatee at this point). I interviewed for a prestigious consulting internship at a now defunct Big Six accounting firm. Only one student each from three local universities was chosen. I was shortlisted with another friend and he was chosen. I found out later from him (and the partner who hired him) that they really liked both of us, but when they had to choose they decided to go with the clean shaven guy. Appearances matter.
Why do appearances matter? Appearances are the short hand we give others to judge us on. Perhaps we are “trying too hardâ€, perhaps we don’t care what others think, perhaps we hope that someone will take the time to understand what is beneath the appearance. Are we too busy to take the time to try to learn about someone? Maybe. Maybe not. But, it’s a struggle to get past an outward appearance we perceive to be odd.
Maybe Wilson has done the calculus and he doesn’t care. He determined that his skills would give him the leeway to “act the fool.†Maybe time has caught up with him. I know I’ve done the same calculation my life and believed that my skills can overcome any misgivings someone has about my outward appearance. And if they don’t, maybe I didn’t need to work for that person or befriend that person.
Wilson understands satire and I can respect that. I wouldn't get annoyed with any player's personality unless it interfered with his on-field play or unless he began to show up at my house uninvited every morning, demanding breakfast.
BTW, Ian - I am pretty sure that this was the article of yours that I have most enjoyed. Keep it up.