In a Fog

Allan “Bud” Selig, the ninth Commissioner of Baseball, fits his astrological chart like a batting glove. He is a Leo who specializes in self-referential activities. Selig also possesses four planets in Cancer, the sign of the crab. Crabs cling and won’t let go (even if means their demise), stockpile resources (they can be somewhat greedy) and get cranky if they don’t get their way. Of course, they also nurture and render care and support to all others around them. So the Commissioner probably stands convinced that his way of doing what he wants is what baseball needs.

Yeah, well, the United States is a Cancer country in which we root, root, root for the home team, unless you make them play in a foreign country to start the season. How is that division good for baseball? It seemed like a good idea on the projected advertising sales sheet.

Selig’s Leo Sun stands opposed by transiting Neptune, which is currently in Aquarius. Neptune is associated with the foggy, misty, ethereal time in which little or nothing makes sense. Such a time is supposed to awaken a person’s spiritual scope, sense of purpose and place in the Universe. But typically, during such a time, people seem lost in a fog and lose their sense of realism and practicality. In terms of forgiveness, exoneration or absolution, one goes to unreasonable extremes. These extremes may manifest as unnecessary harshness in some punishments (Rocker and Rose) and ineffectual leniency in others (such as Strawberry’s drug punishment and the Dodgers/Cubs brawl and pending suspensions).

Referring to the impending vote on realignment, Selig spouted off on April 17, “Everything I wanted to do, I will do.” There could not be a more succinct Leo statement in the universe. Selig got his hometown Milwaukee Brewers transferred between leagues. He started the United States national pastime’s season in Japan. He sells out to advertisers. He pardons baseball players for criminal activities that would send the average bloke to jail, yet uses a henchman for on-field punishment—sometimes too little, sometimes too much. Fog settles over the ballparks. We can no longer see the scorecard.

Realignment

The current proposals for realignment will confuse the heck out of any child seeking to learn geography. The placement of teams in divisions often has nothing to do with their home city’s location in the country. One team is being switched because they don’t like what time the games start for their audience back home. Neptune blurs boundaries, time zones, economic factors and what’s good for the game. Selig has made it clear that he’ll do what he wants... and how does this serve the greater good? It doesn’t.

The plan of alignment takes away some of the excitement of baseball. It alienates fans (you know, the economic source of the game), disrupts scheduling and inspires countless writers to go off on tirades about his agenda. Basically, the name of the game is Selig saving face. He must back up the slippery promises he made early in a multitude of negotiations with owners and teams to ensure his promissory integrity.

Perhaps, under the realm of Neptune’s inspiration, and in the land of beer (beer is associated with the planet Neptune) of Wisconsin, Selig might receive the benefit of divine intervention. We can always hope. Should the inspiration not come, perhaps the greater wisdom might yet prevail. Neptune’s suggestion: when fogged in with zero visibility, stay put.

And maybe fans can muster their wishes and send them to the Commissioner. Hopefully, the disruption to the national pastime and possible wounds to baseball can be nipped in the bud, instead of nipped by the Bud.

Philip Sedgwick began his study of astrology in 1969. He is the author of Astrology of Deep Space, Astrology of Transcendence, The Sun at the Center: A Primer of Heliocentric Astrology, The Galactic Ephemeris (a compilation of over 8,300 points in deep space).