soft hands.

i couldn't decide between

The selection, announced yesterday, of Minnesota first baseman Justin Morneau as the American League's Most Valuable Player is dumb and indefensible, good evidence of why no one takes baseball writers seriously. Morneau wasn't the best, or the second-best, or the third-best player among first basemen and designated hitters. He wasn't the best or second-best player on his own team. He wasn't even the best player with the initials "JM" on his own team. (You take the guy with 130 RBI and I'll take Joe Mauer, a Gold Glove-caliber catcher who led the league in batting average, and we'll see who wins more games.) He wasn't one of the five best players in the division. He wasn't one of the 10 best players in the league.

and the maddeningly sensible

If there's any indignant outrage to be directed anywhere, it should be directed at those of us who legitimize this silly award with columns like this one. The MVP award, all agree, has no credibility; it's as relevant as a moss-covered, three-handled family credenza, or a tin of Boer War rations, slightly more meaningful than a Gold Glove. Why treat it with any seriousness at all? [tim marchman]
11:35 AM :: ::
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