An IT IS HIGH WHITE PAPER: 29 years later, MLB finally seeks to halt out-of-control pine tar abuse

In 1983, the lords of baseball had a chance to staunch the growing poison known as pine tar and its ruinous impact upon the national pastime.

They were literally handed rock-solid evidence of pine tar abuse.

They ran like the shrieking, cowardly, fairyland piglets that they are, the dirty stinking clowns.

They could have buckled down and upheld the negation of George Brett’s infamous and blatantly illegal home run, rightfully awarding a crucial game to the Yankees, instead of cowtowing to the cheater-criminal Kansas City Royals. Their refusal to support the rule of law, in the face of incontrovertable evidence from solicitor Billy Martin, remains today a dark, sticky smear upon the integrity of the game.

Dammit, they caught Brett black-handed, his fingers stuck to the cookiejar, and their own umps called him out, OUT! And what happened next? They backtracked, overturning the call, folding like a cheap sheet of typing paper, breaking like wind at a Shriners' convention.

For shame, for shame. . . for shame!

Well, as Goodtimes Lackey used to say in the Fenway clubhouse, "Boys, the fried chicken has come home to roost."

Last night, Tampa Bay’s Joel Peralta was booted from a game after Washington Nationals manager Davey Johnson protested the blatant smear of pine tar that disgraced the pitcher’s mitt. Let’s see if it stands. It’s taken the umps 29 years to work up the gumption to make another pine tar call and do what’s right — take the stainy pitch out of the game.

Bravo, Washington! Bravo, umps! A lot gets written about performance enhancing drugs, but the ugliest scandal for the last 30 years has been how Yankee rivals have coated the game in black, gloopy globs.

Twenty nine years. . . but better late than never.

WE HEREBY CALL UPON THE LEADERS OF MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL TO RETROACTIVELY OVERTURN THE OVERTURN....

1. Restoring the 1983 Yankee victory,
2. Eliminating George Brett’s home run from the fossil record,
3. Fining him for his violent outburst,
4. And reconsidering the heinous villain’s place in history.

The gristmills of the gods grind slowly... but infinitely Yankeesque. Our indignation and wrath will forever stick to Mr. George Brett like – well – not glue, but something else... something gummy. Something black. What is it? Anybody want to guess? Here's a clue: It aint licorice.