Six errors? Six errors? Six?
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Yesterday, I briefly touched on Frank Robinson's apparent recognition that his managerial career with the Washington Nationals---and perhaps his five-decade career in professional baseball---may be coming to a close. Yet, of course, Robinson doesn't know for sure whether this season will be it for him; the team's management hasn't discussed next year, and there's not much of this year left. In today's Wash. Times, Thom Loverro criticizes the Lernastens for the secretive and shabby treatment, lamenting that this is one more instance where Robinson doesn't receive his due:
He deserves more than that. Frank Robinson is baseball royalty, yet has never been treated as such. Hank Aaron has the career home run record. Willie Mays played in New York in the 1950s, and, of course, Roberto Clemente became an icon when he died in a tragic plane crash trying to bring supplies to earthquake victims in Nicaragua.
Frank Robinson is in that class. Yet he wasn't even named to the ridiculous MasterCard All-Century baseball team in 1999. He has been in the game 51 years, yet has never truly had the chance to say goodbye on his own terms.
Forget for a moment that Clemente is an icon because of a tragic consequence, or that Aaron is a legend for holding the career home run record, or that Willie Mays is, well, Willie Mays. Instead, let's focus again on Loverro's last sentence:
I briefly made reference to this concept yesterday, but knowingly or unknowingly, Loverro hits on it more directly today: Frank Robinson "has never truly had the chance to say goodbye on his own terms" because he has never left the game, thus never creating the chance to say goodbye.
Call it the Frobbian Paradox.
It's admirable that Robinson has actively remained in the game for decade-upon-decade; he's truly a great figure of this great game. But he's never stepped away and allowed himself to be appreciated.
An inner-circle Hall of Fame player like Frank Robinson doesn't fade away into oblivion; however, one problem that I see is that Robinson has remained in the game so long---and in so many different capacities---that it's easy to lose sight of the fact that he was an inner-circle Hall of Fame player.
Plus, to get back to Loverro's column, Robinson didn't die tragically on a mercy mission, doesn't hold the all-time home run record and, well, isn't Willie Mays. To an extent, that's just the way it is. This isn't to say that Robinson is underappreciated or doesn't deserve better. Heck, I think he needs an appropriately current biography.
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Don't know if anybody saw this, but:
Ground will break on the first apartment community, Jefferson at 70 Eye Street (pictured), this month, paving the way for the creation of a building with 448 units, a three-level underground parking facility, a fitness center, community movie theater and conference room. The project carries a price tag of $130 million. The second apartment property will cost approximately $80 million to develop. Located [at] 100 Eye St., the second development will yield 246 residences and is scheduled for an October groundbreaking.
Finally, a suitable home for Professor Bacon!