Somebody to Love
Three cheers for the brain trust at Dan Nation for sponsoring a player page at the baseball site-to-end-all-sites Baseball Reference. Dan gave his love to commemorate Archi Chianfrocco, who rode the pine for Montreal and San Diego in the 90s. Dan's heartfelt dedication can be viewed here . Now I will gladly follow in his footsteps and present to you -- drum roll, please -- my Baseball Reference sponsorship . This may be the best $10 I've ever spent.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Wade Bloggs
Never really had a personal connection with Wade Boggs -- and this takedown by ESPN's Bill Simmons illustrates why there wasn't a whole lot to get excited about. I don't agree that Jim Rice is more deserving of Hall of Fame enshrinement -- as this piece suggests -- but I'm in 100% percent agreement with the rest of his sentiments on Citizen Wade. Awesome career stats, less interesting personality than Don Mattingly, Dale Murphy or Keith Hernandez. In a word: boring.
Ryne Sandberg, on the other hand, was (in my mind) the best position player on the ballot and I'm thrilled to see him get into the Hall of Fame. I don't even like the Cubs, but Sandberg defined '80's baseball for me. He held the career home run mark for a second baseman until Jeff Kent pulled ahead recently with his best Ryno impression, and his stellar MVP season was only his 3rd or 4th best from an offensive standpoint. It's shocking how his accomplishments have diminished in the eyes of the Chi-town faithful -- he left us at the altar with an early retirement, of course, and came back when he probably shouldn't of, sure. But the fact that Sandberg got in isn't -- as one of my customers in a (get this) Cubs jersey alleged today -- due to a weak ballot this year but a minor disturbance in pattern in the general head-up-assery that prevails amongst the voting committee.
Next up: Ron Santo, Veterans Ballot. That would be the poetic icing on the cake of justice, wouldn't it?
Never really had a personal connection with Wade Boggs -- and this takedown by ESPN's Bill Simmons illustrates why there wasn't a whole lot to get excited about. I don't agree that Jim Rice is more deserving of Hall of Fame enshrinement -- as this piece suggests -- but I'm in 100% percent agreement with the rest of his sentiments on Citizen Wade. Awesome career stats, less interesting personality than Don Mattingly, Dale Murphy or Keith Hernandez. In a word: boring.
Ryne Sandberg, on the other hand, was (in my mind) the best position player on the ballot and I'm thrilled to see him get into the Hall of Fame. I don't even like the Cubs, but Sandberg defined '80's baseball for me. He held the career home run mark for a second baseman until Jeff Kent pulled ahead recently with his best Ryno impression, and his stellar MVP season was only his 3rd or 4th best from an offensive standpoint. It's shocking how his accomplishments have diminished in the eyes of the Chi-town faithful -- he left us at the altar with an early retirement, of course, and came back when he probably shouldn't of, sure. But the fact that Sandberg got in isn't -- as one of my customers in a (get this) Cubs jersey alleged today -- due to a weak ballot this year but a minor disturbance in pattern in the general head-up-assery that prevails amongst the voting committee.
Next up: Ron Santo, Veterans Ballot. That would be the poetic icing on the cake of justice, wouldn't it?
Monday, December 13, 2004
Writ Large
Peter Gammons wins the J.G. Taylor Spink Award and joins fellow luminary Ring Lardner in Baseball Hall of Fame. Throw ya hands up!
So, will Flogging Molly be playing the induction ceremony?
Peter Gammons wins the J.G. Taylor Spink Award and joins fellow luminary Ring Lardner in Baseball Hall of Fame. Throw ya hands up!
So, will Flogging Molly be playing the induction ceremony?
Saturday, December 11, 2004
You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch
Marlins spokesman Bruce Rubin on owner Jeff Loria recent meeting with Las Vegas officials: "These were social discussions, a get-to-know-each-other meeting. Simply, Vegas wants a baseball team and the Marlins are a baseball team. It was decided that the two sides should get together."
I think I threw up in my mouth a little when I read this published report. It's not the sentiment, it's the phrasing. You know, peanut butter tastes good on sandwiches and chocolate is a delicious treat -- why not put the two together and make something even more delicious? No one who witnessed Art Modell's dismantling of the Browns and overnight move to Baltimore will buy this line, and Jeff Loria's Machiavellian maneuvering as owner of Les Expos assures us that it's all about the dollar for him.
Sure, sure, the only thing more cliche than an owner crying poverty is a fan complaining that an owner is a greedy pig. But Loria is truly a piece of work. Is Montreal a bad town for baseball? Yes. Is Miami a bad town for baseball? Maybe. But for the same reasons that the White Sox struggle to fill the stands in the third largest market in baseball. If you build a good team, the fans will come. And if you dismantle a team, the fans respond in the only way they know how. That's the simple economics of a 162-game schedule. People support the Marlins -- inclement weather and tropical rainstorms aside -- when the team is good. And the team has won two World Series rings in the last seven years, which is pretty terrific.
By all accounts, Pro Player Stadium is an awful place to see a game. And what team hasn't tried to strongarm its host city into financing a new park in the post-Camden Yards/ Jacobs Field era? Loria's timing is terrible, though: the threat of a move is appalling when used as a negotiation tactic. Is all hope truly lost in Miami? Have the Marlins explored all their options for financing a new ballpark? Why do teams feel like they bear no responsibility in making capital improvements? It's not that Miami is lucky to have the Marlins; the Marlins are lucky to have Miami.
Marlins spokesman Bruce Rubin on owner Jeff Loria recent meeting with Las Vegas officials: "These were social discussions, a get-to-know-each-other meeting. Simply, Vegas wants a baseball team and the Marlins are a baseball team. It was decided that the two sides should get together."
I think I threw up in my mouth a little when I read this published report. It's not the sentiment, it's the phrasing. You know, peanut butter tastes good on sandwiches and chocolate is a delicious treat -- why not put the two together and make something even more delicious? No one who witnessed Art Modell's dismantling of the Browns and overnight move to Baltimore will buy this line, and Jeff Loria's Machiavellian maneuvering as owner of Les Expos assures us that it's all about the dollar for him.
Sure, sure, the only thing more cliche than an owner crying poverty is a fan complaining that an owner is a greedy pig. But Loria is truly a piece of work. Is Montreal a bad town for baseball? Yes. Is Miami a bad town for baseball? Maybe. But for the same reasons that the White Sox struggle to fill the stands in the third largest market in baseball. If you build a good team, the fans will come. And if you dismantle a team, the fans respond in the only way they know how. That's the simple economics of a 162-game schedule. People support the Marlins -- inclement weather and tropical rainstorms aside -- when the team is good. And the team has won two World Series rings in the last seven years, which is pretty terrific.
By all accounts, Pro Player Stadium is an awful place to see a game. And what team hasn't tried to strongarm its host city into financing a new park in the post-Camden Yards/ Jacobs Field era? Loria's timing is terrible, though: the threat of a move is appalling when used as a negotiation tactic. Is all hope truly lost in Miami? Have the Marlins explored all their options for financing a new ballpark? Why do teams feel like they bear no responsibility in making capital improvements? It's not that Miami is lucky to have the Marlins; the Marlins are lucky to have Miami.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Into the Void
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My girlfriend used to work about a block away from a plaque commemorating the Haymarket Riots. Here in Chi-town, we've got public parks in the middle of nowhere dedicated to Eugene V. Debs. The City of Chicago built itself on the spirit of labor reform; the city's rise as a financial center is a natural outgrowth of a massive population explosion, but it still bleeds blue like Gary, Indiana or Kalamazoo, Michigan. I'll save my thoughts on labor unions for another day and another blog, but as someone who's paid dues for a union in the past (United Auto Workers) and has found himself employed a variety of mixed/ union/ non-union locations, all I can say is that the MLB Players Union is its own worst enemy right now.
MLB doesn't have a deep history of voided contracts -- Aaron Boone's basketball injury springs to mind immediately and a series of contracts were voided during some strange administrative reshuffling in the strike shortened 1994 season. And of course, Denny Neagle -- a poster-boy for salary bloat -- is all over the news wire right now for (literally) getting caught with his pants down. Forget about Boone, who was in obvious violation of the terms of his contract. And let's also not consider the aberration of '94, because so much of it flew under the radar. Neagle, though, is a warning sign for what happens when baseball half-heartedly attempts to enforce morals.
Let's set the record straight here: despite defaming him in the press, the Yankees did not terminate Kevin Brown's contract last season after a self-inflicted injury. Jason Giambi's job with the Yankees is probably safe, as is Barry Bonds' continued employment with the Giants; it's rough going from here on out for both, but their respective value to their teams is tied inextricably to their ability to place butts in seats. But what happens when you move on down the line to someone like Benito Santiago, who's been rumored to be on the 'roids and has a comparatively modest 2.5 million left on his contract with the Royals? Or The Neck that Ate Chicago? His trade value is less than nil in the wake of steroid allegations and the Cubs would love to take his contract and drop it like it's hot.
The MLB Players Union has zero leverage until it adopts a steroid testing policy. In the face of sharp criticism from bulldog Sen. John McCain, the Union is saying that it would be "open" to adopt a more stringent testing policy. Union boss Don Fehr has defended the current policy, wherein players were tested once between spring training and the end of the regular season. Once. So where's the statistical sample? And if everyone and their mom and their dog knew that Bonds and Giambi were on 'roids, then everyone knew about the prevalence of doping agents -- you could sleepwalk through the Summer Olympics and catch a fucking clue.
What the Players Union needs to understand is that its in their best interest to adopt aggressive testing measures, whether or not their interests fall in line with the "moral good" of baseball. Not because John Mc Cain or President Bush wants it or Bud Selig peeks out from under his desk to sheepishly agree, but because it's the only leg the players have to stand on when protecting their bloated contracts. What we'd definitely see is an impediment to owners/teams voiding player contracts, since all the Union reps would have to say is that Player A admits he has a problem, he will accept the attendant penalties and he will seek treatment and counseling to resolve the problems. Will testing drastically reduce the frequency of steroid use within the league? Hell no, baseball's too soft on crime and it'd take the threat of something like a salary cap to sort that one out.
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My girlfriend used to work about a block away from a plaque commemorating the Haymarket Riots. Here in Chi-town, we've got public parks in the middle of nowhere dedicated to Eugene V. Debs. The City of Chicago built itself on the spirit of labor reform; the city's rise as a financial center is a natural outgrowth of a massive population explosion, but it still bleeds blue like Gary, Indiana or Kalamazoo, Michigan. I'll save my thoughts on labor unions for another day and another blog, but as someone who's paid dues for a union in the past (United Auto Workers) and has found himself employed a variety of mixed/ union/ non-union locations, all I can say is that the MLB Players Union is its own worst enemy right now.
MLB doesn't have a deep history of voided contracts -- Aaron Boone's basketball injury springs to mind immediately and a series of contracts were voided during some strange administrative reshuffling in the strike shortened 1994 season. And of course, Denny Neagle -- a poster-boy for salary bloat -- is all over the news wire right now for (literally) getting caught with his pants down. Forget about Boone, who was in obvious violation of the terms of his contract. And let's also not consider the aberration of '94, because so much of it flew under the radar. Neagle, though, is a warning sign for what happens when baseball half-heartedly attempts to enforce morals.
Let's set the record straight here: despite defaming him in the press, the Yankees did not terminate Kevin Brown's contract last season after a self-inflicted injury. Jason Giambi's job with the Yankees is probably safe, as is Barry Bonds' continued employment with the Giants; it's rough going from here on out for both, but their respective value to their teams is tied inextricably to their ability to place butts in seats. But what happens when you move on down the line to someone like Benito Santiago, who's been rumored to be on the 'roids and has a comparatively modest 2.5 million left on his contract with the Royals? Or The Neck that Ate Chicago? His trade value is less than nil in the wake of steroid allegations and the Cubs would love to take his contract and drop it like it's hot.
The MLB Players Union has zero leverage until it adopts a steroid testing policy. In the face of sharp criticism from bulldog Sen. John McCain, the Union is saying that it would be "open" to adopt a more stringent testing policy. Union boss Don Fehr has defended the current policy, wherein players were tested once between spring training and the end of the regular season. Once. So where's the statistical sample? And if everyone and their mom and their dog knew that Bonds and Giambi were on 'roids, then everyone knew about the prevalence of doping agents -- you could sleepwalk through the Summer Olympics and catch a fucking clue.
What the Players Union needs to understand is that its in their best interest to adopt aggressive testing measures, whether or not their interests fall in line with the "moral good" of baseball. Not because John Mc Cain or President Bush wants it or Bud Selig peeks out from under his desk to sheepishly agree, but because it's the only leg the players have to stand on when protecting their bloated contracts. What we'd definitely see is an impediment to owners/teams voiding player contracts, since all the Union reps would have to say is that Player A admits he has a problem, he will accept the attendant penalties and he will seek treatment and counseling to resolve the problems. Will testing drastically reduce the frequency of steroid use within the league? Hell no, baseball's too soft on crime and it'd take the threat of something like a salary cap to sort that one out.
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Jason and the Argue-Nots
Seems like everytime I go visit my parents, Dave Littlefield dismantles the Pittsburgh Pirates. Folks, if you want to know what to get me for Christmas (er, Hanukkah) this year, it's really easy: make the bleeding stop! I spent 12 hours pacing nervously in O'Hare airport on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, wondering if I should just resign myself to camping out there over the entire weekend a la Tom Hanks. Heard the Jason Kendall-to-Oakland rumors swirling all week (with Mark Mulder possibly coming in return, yeah right!) and then -- boom! -- cracked open the paper on Saturday morning to read all about the twin salary dump the teams orchestrated.
If you scroll down a few posts to early November, you'll see that I feel pretty strongly about Kendall. Mark Redman was a decent catch -- in light on Kris Benson's $8 million contract with the Mets, he'll provide similar production with no illusions of being anything other than a #4-5 starter. His lone season in the NL was his best (Florida, 2003), so his numbers should roll back a little in the less hitting-friendly league. And if the Bucs can trade for Prentice Redman and get an endorsement from Red Man Chewing Tobacco, they'll have a monopoly on all the major league Redmen. Arthur Rhodes, the other guy involved in the deal, was a major dud for Oakland last season -- though the Pittsburgh front office knows they're dealing from a position of strength in terms of the bullpen, and they'll try to spin him for some hitting (one rumor has him being flipped to L.A. for Milton Bradley, yeah right!) or, more likely, release him during Spring Training. So no thanks there.
In short, they made out as best as they could. Just like the Brian Giles deal, which, given some distance to reflect, turned out amazingly for the Pirates. You won't see the same kind of returns here, because of the strict major league talent ratio. Oakland obviously felt than Rhodes and Redman have nowhere to go but down, and no surprise that the Pirates felt the same way about Kendall. Last time out, I took the high road discussing Kendall -- trying to get into Billy Beane's head to figure out Kendall's present-day value as an OBP and defensive threat. Right here and now, he seems like an awfully good fit for the A's.
And present value is what you think of when the wounds are still raw. Pittsburgh Post-Gazette columnist Ed Cook slammed the deal in a front-page piece the morning after, and who could blame him? It's painful anytime a player with a modicum of talent gets shipped out of town. My esteemed colleague One Man Band pretty much encapsulates my feelings on the trade: bad deal, leaves the Pirates vulnerable at catcher, doesn't really provide the financial flexibility that you'd assume, and the Pirates won't do anything with the few million dollars in savings except pad the war chest. Totally on the mark!
Cook's colleague at the PG, The Stats Geek, took another tack and tried to calm nerves by weighing Kendall's injury history and future durability against the examples of Johnny Bench and the major drop-off in service time most catchers experience after age 30. Of the top 20 catchers who caught the most games up through age 30, only 2 rank in the top 20 of games caught after 30. Offensive production is a corollary to health behind the plate, too Johnny Bench caught 539 games from ages 27-30 and 415 from 31-34; his OPS dipped from .836 to .794 in the same interval. How about Carlton Fisk? 522 games from 27-30 and 453 from 31-34 with an OPS slide from .853 to .761. Mike Piazza? 592 games from 27-30, 438 (541 games total -- he also played a lot of first base in '04) from 31-34 with a huge OPS slide.
Folks like Gary Carter and Roy Campanella held up pretty well, of course, but Kendall has already caught 1252 games through age 30 and the major drop-off begins after 1300 games. I still think he has a lot of life left in him; save his gruesome injury in '99, he's been very durable. And he has three years left on his contract, not coincidentally the age 31-34 period discussed above. Can Kendall catch a lot of games in that interval and hit for a high average? History says no for catchers with an extreme workload. Kendall has only caught 442 games over the least three seasons, though; he'll have no problem equaling that production.
Seems like everytime I go visit my parents, Dave Littlefield dismantles the Pittsburgh Pirates. Folks, if you want to know what to get me for Christmas (er, Hanukkah) this year, it's really easy: make the bleeding stop! I spent 12 hours pacing nervously in O'Hare airport on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, wondering if I should just resign myself to camping out there over the entire weekend a la Tom Hanks. Heard the Jason Kendall-to-Oakland rumors swirling all week (with Mark Mulder possibly coming in return, yeah right!) and then -- boom! -- cracked open the paper on Saturday morning to read all about the twin salary dump the teams orchestrated.
If you scroll down a few posts to early November, you'll see that I feel pretty strongly about Kendall. Mark Redman was a decent catch -- in light on Kris Benson's $8 million contract with the Mets, he'll provide similar production with no illusions of being anything other than a #4-5 starter. His lone season in the NL was his best (Florida, 2003), so his numbers should roll back a little in the less hitting-friendly league. And if the Bucs can trade for Prentice Redman and get an endorsement from Red Man Chewing Tobacco, they'll have a monopoly on all the major league Redmen. Arthur Rhodes, the other guy involved in the deal, was a major dud for Oakland last season -- though the Pittsburgh front office knows they're dealing from a position of strength in terms of the bullpen, and they'll try to spin him for some hitting (one rumor has him being flipped to L.A. for Milton Bradley, yeah right!) or, more likely, release him during Spring Training. So no thanks there.
In short, they made out as best as they could. Just like the Brian Giles deal, which, given some distance to reflect, turned out amazingly for the Pirates. You won't see the same kind of returns here, because of the strict major league talent ratio. Oakland obviously felt than Rhodes and Redman have nowhere to go but down, and no surprise that the Pirates felt the same way about Kendall. Last time out, I took the high road discussing Kendall -- trying to get into Billy Beane's head to figure out Kendall's present-day value as an OBP and defensive threat. Right here and now, he seems like an awfully good fit for the A's.
And present value is what you think of when the wounds are still raw. Pittsburgh Post-Gazette columnist Ed Cook slammed the deal in a front-page piece the morning after, and who could blame him? It's painful anytime a player with a modicum of talent gets shipped out of town. My esteemed colleague One Man Band pretty much encapsulates my feelings on the trade: bad deal, leaves the Pirates vulnerable at catcher, doesn't really provide the financial flexibility that you'd assume, and the Pirates won't do anything with the few million dollars in savings except pad the war chest. Totally on the mark!
Cook's colleague at the PG, The Stats Geek, took another tack and tried to calm nerves by weighing Kendall's injury history and future durability against the examples of Johnny Bench and the major drop-off in service time most catchers experience after age 30. Of the top 20 catchers who caught the most games up through age 30, only 2 rank in the top 20 of games caught after 30. Offensive production is a corollary to health behind the plate, too Johnny Bench caught 539 games from ages 27-30 and 415 from 31-34; his OPS dipped from .836 to .794 in the same interval. How about Carlton Fisk? 522 games from 27-30 and 453 from 31-34 with an OPS slide from .853 to .761. Mike Piazza? 592 games from 27-30, 438 (541 games total -- he also played a lot of first base in '04) from 31-34 with a huge OPS slide.
Folks like Gary Carter and Roy Campanella held up pretty well, of course, but Kendall has already caught 1252 games through age 30 and the major drop-off begins after 1300 games. I still think he has a lot of life left in him; save his gruesome injury in '99, he's been very durable. And he has three years left on his contract, not coincidentally the age 31-34 period discussed above. Can Kendall catch a lot of games in that interval and hit for a high average? History says no for catchers with an extreme workload. Kendall has only caught 442 games over the least three seasons, though; he'll have no problem equaling that production.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
On the money
Jayson Stark unpacks the mysteries of collusion in his recent column. Didn't realize that MLB offered "recommendations" for suggested "salary ranges," but that certainly explains the spate of 2 yr/$6 million OF contracts in 2004. Great piece. So are the MLB elders the true villains here? No no, it's still Scott Boras who's still taking his cues from Dr. Doom and the Red Skull.
Jayson Stark unpacks the mysteries of collusion in his recent column. Didn't realize that MLB offered "recommendations" for suggested "salary ranges," but that certainly explains the spate of 2 yr/$6 million OF contracts in 2004. Great piece. So are the MLB elders the true villains here? No no, it's still Scott Boras who's still taking his cues from Dr. Doom and the Red Skull.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
He Hate Me
Rick Morrissey of the Chicago Tribune said everything there is to say about agent Scott Boras: "He is a very, very bad man. Exquisitely bad, in a foreclose-on-the-farm sort of way." Bryan Miller, in a thinkpiece on Slate, offered a more even-tempered assessment of the agent in 2001: "Scott Boras is the Marvin Miller of his age—the man the owners claim they can't afford, but the players can't afford to live without." Either way you cut it, no one likes the guy -- owners and GMs hate him with a passion, fans treat him like a human pinata, and I doubt highly that any player who has reaped the benefits on Boras' predatory tactics is inviting him to their next Christmas party.
But shit, Boras gets results. Look at the A-Rod, Kevin Brown and Darren Dreifort contracts he engineered a few years ago. Woah. And then look at his cream-of-the-crop client list for this year's free agent class: Adrian Beltre, Carlos Beltran, Derek Lowe, Jason Varitek, Kevin Millwood, J.D. Drew and Magglio Ordonez. GMs and owners have already balked at his demands for Beltran (10 years, backloaded) and Jason Varitek, but those guys will get signed. Above market value. Because Scott Boras never loses. He's like Wile E. Coyote if the super-genius managed to get the better of the Road Runner and drop an anvil on his head every time.
Word out of Chicago is that White Sox GM Kenny Williams doesn't like the way negotiations with franchise cornerstone Magglio Ordonez have been going; Williams called a press conference to tell reporters that the White Sox "would not be signing any Scott Boras clients this year." Well, no shit, Sherlock -- isn't that why the Washington franchise pulled the trigger on deals with Christian Guzman and Vinny Castilla so quickly? No one wants to get stuck negotiating with Scott Boras as an act of desperation.
Still, what's going on here? Is this Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf's legendary cheapness rearing its head once again? The White Sox franchise has a nasty track-record of blackballing its highest-paid players as a way of keeping salaries at a manageable limit -- Big Frank Thomas got treated pretty badly in the midst of a prolonged slump and he just redeemed himself in the eyes of the fans last season. People were booing the guy at every at-bat because of Reinsdorf's carefully-orchestrated smear campaign. What Kenny Williams said should ring true in the hearts and minds of every baseball observer from the top of an organization to the fan sitting in the nosebleed section, sure.
But you don't owe it to anyone to tell them the truth unless you're sleeping with them -- Boras is a terrible bed-fellow of course, but imagine the whispers of collusion that might circulate if all teams took a stand against the Boras clients this year. Kenny Williams would be Exhibit A in that trial. So what you do is shut the fuck up and keep it behind the scenes. You don't need mommy and daddy to tell you that they're getting divorced after years of bitter arguments...you knew it all along.
Rick Morrissey of the Chicago Tribune said everything there is to say about agent Scott Boras: "He is a very, very bad man. Exquisitely bad, in a foreclose-on-the-farm sort of way." Bryan Miller, in a thinkpiece on Slate, offered a more even-tempered assessment of the agent in 2001: "Scott Boras is the Marvin Miller of his age—the man the owners claim they can't afford, but the players can't afford to live without." Either way you cut it, no one likes the guy -- owners and GMs hate him with a passion, fans treat him like a human pinata, and I doubt highly that any player who has reaped the benefits on Boras' predatory tactics is inviting him to their next Christmas party.
But shit, Boras gets results. Look at the A-Rod, Kevin Brown and Darren Dreifort contracts he engineered a few years ago. Woah. And then look at his cream-of-the-crop client list for this year's free agent class: Adrian Beltre, Carlos Beltran, Derek Lowe, Jason Varitek, Kevin Millwood, J.D. Drew and Magglio Ordonez. GMs and owners have already balked at his demands for Beltran (10 years, backloaded) and Jason Varitek, but those guys will get signed. Above market value. Because Scott Boras never loses. He's like Wile E. Coyote if the super-genius managed to get the better of the Road Runner and drop an anvil on his head every time.
Word out of Chicago is that White Sox GM Kenny Williams doesn't like the way negotiations with franchise cornerstone Magglio Ordonez have been going; Williams called a press conference to tell reporters that the White Sox "would not be signing any Scott Boras clients this year." Well, no shit, Sherlock -- isn't that why the Washington franchise pulled the trigger on deals with Christian Guzman and Vinny Castilla so quickly? No one wants to get stuck negotiating with Scott Boras as an act of desperation.
Still, what's going on here? Is this Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf's legendary cheapness rearing its head once again? The White Sox franchise has a nasty track-record of blackballing its highest-paid players as a way of keeping salaries at a manageable limit -- Big Frank Thomas got treated pretty badly in the midst of a prolonged slump and he just redeemed himself in the eyes of the fans last season. People were booing the guy at every at-bat because of Reinsdorf's carefully-orchestrated smear campaign. What Kenny Williams said should ring true in the hearts and minds of every baseball observer from the top of an organization to the fan sitting in the nosebleed section, sure.
But you don't owe it to anyone to tell them the truth unless you're sleeping with them -- Boras is a terrible bed-fellow of course, but imagine the whispers of collusion that might circulate if all teams took a stand against the Boras clients this year. Kenny Williams would be Exhibit A in that trial. So what you do is shut the fuck up and keep it behind the scenes. You don't need mommy and daddy to tell you that they're getting divorced after years of bitter arguments...you knew it all along.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Bump and grind
I'm pretty sure that I've already seen a movie or three about the Jayson Werth stalker case -- wife dumps high school sweetheart for guy who makes the big leagues, jilted lover blackmails the couple -- fifteen times. Seems like a cross between The Fan and Unforgettable and that one with Marky Mark carving Reese Witherspoon's name on his chest . Like, 4 eva. Not to make too much light of it -- the Werths seem like they just want to be left alone.
Here's an even more absurd story involving the wife of Gary Sheffield and R. Kelly and -- oh, what's that you say? -- a guy-on-girl-and-girl sex-video. I'm sorry. I just can't leave it alone. Tapes of Kelly making the beast with two backs with Sheffield's wife originated from Chicago, where community activist/ huckster Derrick Mosley attempted to give Sheff the shakedown for $20,000 in blackmail money. Here's the kicker: Sheffield's wife is 28. The tape is said to be at least 10 years old. R. Kelly has a predilection towards humping his proteges (Sheff's wife is a gospel singer), especially his underage ones. Bad timing for R. Kelly as it relates to his pending child pornography case, these days, it seems like he might as well take up permanent residence in a courthouse . I'm pretty sure I haven't seen this movie yet, but when art eventually decides to imitate life, it's going to be great.
Update: Is it a Yankee curse? Sheffield's stay in New York has been plagued with all sorts of difficulties . Read the article, it'll put hair on your chest.
I'm pretty sure that I've already seen a movie or three about the Jayson Werth stalker case -- wife dumps high school sweetheart for guy who makes the big leagues, jilted lover blackmails the couple -- fifteen times. Seems like a cross between The Fan and Unforgettable and that one with Marky Mark carving Reese Witherspoon's name on his chest . Like, 4 eva. Not to make too much light of it -- the Werths seem like they just want to be left alone.
Here's an even more absurd story involving the wife of Gary Sheffield and R. Kelly and -- oh, what's that you say? -- a guy-on-girl-and-girl sex-video. I'm sorry. I just can't leave it alone. Tapes of Kelly making the beast with two backs with Sheffield's wife originated from Chicago, where community activist/ huckster Derrick Mosley attempted to give Sheff the shakedown for $20,000 in blackmail money. Here's the kicker: Sheffield's wife is 28. The tape is said to be at least 10 years old. R. Kelly has a predilection towards humping his proteges (Sheff's wife is a gospel singer), especially his underage ones. Bad timing for R. Kelly as it relates to his pending child pornography case, these days, it seems like he might as well take up permanent residence in a courthouse . I'm pretty sure I haven't seen this movie yet, but when art eventually decides to imitate life, it's going to be great.
Update: Is it a Yankee curse? Sheffield's stay in New York has been plagued with all sorts of difficulties . Read the article, it'll put hair on your chest.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Devil's Bargain/ Devil's Advocacy
Best part of checking in on the Hot Stove action for me has always been seeing who falls into disfavor/ is labeled as damaged goods/ lands in the Pittsburgh Pirates lap. And I suspect that it's the same way for everyone who still roots for the Pirates against the odds: the entire city of Pittsburgh practically got an erection when rumors of Travis Lee signing with the team surfaced last spring. Travis Lee, people. The worst part of it all isn't the whiskey dick sensation that goes along with watching a collection of rotten apples and turds thumb their collective noses at the Bucs, though.
No, it's seeing some variant on the "the team's gotta trade Jason Kendall in order to keep pace in today's market" cliche in every single off-season (and pre-season, and well, mid-season) report on the team's future. Because there's two things -- actually, four now that Torres and Mesa have been inked to deals -- that are absolutely certain about the Pirates next year. First, GM Dave Littlefield won't be increasing the payroll without an additional revenue stream; this team is almost at a point where adding a Troy Glaus would pay verifiable dividends, but nowhere near the bank-breaking bump it would take to wallow in mid-market mediocrity.
And more importantly, Jason Kendall isn't going anywhere this year. Dude's still owed $34 million/ 3 years on his contract and exactly one team (the Dodgers) are in the market for a catcher. The Bucs would get majorly rooked in any trade involving Kendall -- they'd have to fork over at least a 1/3 of the money owed over the length of the contract for any team to even listen to trade talks and probably a bit more to acquire anything beyond journeymen/AAA fodder. Say what you want about Littlefield, but he has too much pride in the organization to suffer the humiliation of letting Kendall go like that.
And I like Kendall. You like Kendall. Everyone likes Kendall. His OPS ranked fourth (behind Bay and the Wilsons) amongst team regulars and he's a marvel of consistency any way you slice-and-dice his stats (home vs. away, month by month). No more ink needs to be spilled on his offensive attributes; let's talk about his talent behind the plate. Here's Kendall measured against highly-regarded defensive types Ivan Rodriguez and Jorge Posada in some select fielding stats:
Kendall .991 FP/ 7.69 RF/ 1.000 ZR/ .363 CS%
Rodriguez .987 FP/ 7.04 RF/ .933 ZR/ .322 CS%
Posada .990 FP/ 7.25 RF/ 1.000 ZR/ .272 CS%
"FP" is Fielding Percentage (put-outs + assists divided by put-outs + assists + errors), a pretty solid statistical measurement of a player's defensive ability. "RF" is Range Factor (put-outs + assists divided by innings) and its fraternal twin "ZR" is Zone Rating, which measures how well a player performs in his "assigned" zone. "CS%" is the percentage of runners caught while attempting to steal. As you can see, Kendall's tops Rodriguez and Posada in all of these categories -- I haven't checked how he stacks up against the rest of the league's battery partners yet. But if the team ain't gonna dump any more money into the payroll and the mission of 2005 remains youth development, you want Kendall in there to make Kip Wells look good, guide Oliver Perez along the way and help to fix whatever's wrong with Ryan Vogelsong.
With apologies to the amazin' Jason Bay, Kendall's still the Pirates' best player. The contract hasn't gotten any less silly over the last three years, but I'd much rather have him on the team than the extra cash the Pirates would flush down the toilet trying to sign enough warm bodies to create a bargain-basement version of the Phillies.
Best part of checking in on the Hot Stove action for me has always been seeing who falls into disfavor/ is labeled as damaged goods/ lands in the Pittsburgh Pirates lap. And I suspect that it's the same way for everyone who still roots for the Pirates against the odds: the entire city of Pittsburgh practically got an erection when rumors of Travis Lee signing with the team surfaced last spring. Travis Lee, people. The worst part of it all isn't the whiskey dick sensation that goes along with watching a collection of rotten apples and turds thumb their collective noses at the Bucs, though.
No, it's seeing some variant on the "the team's gotta trade Jason Kendall in order to keep pace in today's market" cliche in every single off-season (and pre-season, and well, mid-season) report on the team's future. Because there's two things -- actually, four now that Torres and Mesa have been inked to deals -- that are absolutely certain about the Pirates next year. First, GM Dave Littlefield won't be increasing the payroll without an additional revenue stream; this team is almost at a point where adding a Troy Glaus would pay verifiable dividends, but nowhere near the bank-breaking bump it would take to wallow in mid-market mediocrity.
And more importantly, Jason Kendall isn't going anywhere this year. Dude's still owed $34 million/ 3 years on his contract and exactly one team (the Dodgers) are in the market for a catcher. The Bucs would get majorly rooked in any trade involving Kendall -- they'd have to fork over at least a 1/3 of the money owed over the length of the contract for any team to even listen to trade talks and probably a bit more to acquire anything beyond journeymen/AAA fodder. Say what you want about Littlefield, but he has too much pride in the organization to suffer the humiliation of letting Kendall go like that.
And I like Kendall. You like Kendall. Everyone likes Kendall. His OPS ranked fourth (behind Bay and the Wilsons) amongst team regulars and he's a marvel of consistency any way you slice-and-dice his stats (home vs. away, month by month). No more ink needs to be spilled on his offensive attributes; let's talk about his talent behind the plate. Here's Kendall measured against highly-regarded defensive types Ivan Rodriguez and Jorge Posada in some select fielding stats:
Kendall .991 FP/ 7.69 RF/ 1.000 ZR/ .363 CS%
Rodriguez .987 FP/ 7.04 RF/ .933 ZR/ .322 CS%
Posada .990 FP/ 7.25 RF/ 1.000 ZR/ .272 CS%
"FP" is Fielding Percentage (put-outs + assists divided by put-outs + assists + errors), a pretty solid statistical measurement of a player's defensive ability. "RF" is Range Factor (put-outs + assists divided by innings) and its fraternal twin "ZR" is Zone Rating, which measures how well a player performs in his "assigned" zone. "CS%" is the percentage of runners caught while attempting to steal. As you can see, Kendall's tops Rodriguez and Posada in all of these categories -- I haven't checked how he stacks up against the rest of the league's battery partners yet. But if the team ain't gonna dump any more money into the payroll and the mission of 2005 remains youth development, you want Kendall in there to make Kip Wells look good, guide Oliver Perez along the way and help to fix whatever's wrong with Ryan Vogelsong.
With apologies to the amazin' Jason Bay, Kendall's still the Pirates' best player. The contract hasn't gotten any less silly over the last three years, but I'd much rather have him on the team than the extra cash the Pirates would flush down the toilet trying to sign enough warm bodies to create a bargain-basement version of the Phillies.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Stonewalled
Long time readers (yeah, all four of you) know that I'd be the first guy to pull out a fiddle and dance a drunken jig if Wrigley Field burned to the ground, but news of veteran Cubs broadcaster Steve Stone's resignation at the end of October has still got me down. Steve Stone wasn't half bad as a player -- check out his amazing 25-7 season in 1980 for further reference. Note, as well, that it was enhanced by the four-man rotation Baltimore had in place during the season, but Stone was like the 70's equivalent of Woody Williams in his day.
I'm way too young to remember Stone as a player, though I can remember hearing the first game he called really well. It was in May 2004, before the players up and quit during the strike-shortened season. For my first trip to Wrigley, I tagged along with a guy who lived on the same floor of my dorm who just happened to be...Steve Stone's cousin. We sat underneath the broadcasting booth, within Budweiser-spilling distance of Harry Caray and Stone came out and greeted us during the 7th inning stretch. Quite an experience. The only other ballplayers I've ever that close were the 1995 Pirates (entire team) and this guy (also a relative of a friend), neither of which are anything to tell the future kids about.
I'm convinced that Steve Stone is one of the great unheralded geniuses of sports broadcasting and that time will unveil his 27-year run with the Cubs (with and without Caray) as deserving of Hall of fame consideration. Really, I apologize for the hyperbole -- the wounds are still raw -- but Stone got a raw deal. Apparently, Dusty Baker took issue with some of Stone's critical comments during a late-September game and that this year's team felt Stone wasn't really on their side.
The situation with the Cubs -- a team controlled by a monolithic media company, the parent organization of The Chicago Tribune -- is pretty complicated as it stands. The Chicago Sun-Times, despite its award-winning sports section, is engaged in a giant pissing contest with its competitor, and can't really be trusted to tell the truth about the Cubs. Stone was the guy I trusted to tell it to me straight -- he handled an ungainly, larger-than-life presence like Caray with ease and his commentaries were a perfect mix of erudition and regular-guy charm, unlike that obsequious boot-licker Chip Caray.
It's not a broadcaster's job to be a team booster when the team sucks. I had the opportunity to listen to all-time great Ernie Harwell call a late-summer Tigers game in his final season during an otherwise feverishly dull trip from Chicago to Pittsburgh. And it was great, no knocks on Harwell, but he was so good at masking his frustration with decades of sucky teams. The Cubs' freak pennant run in 2002 aside, Stone had the burden of witnessing the mishaps of a series of serially-underachieving teams. You have to bow to the party line to keep a job, though, and Stone ultimately realized this and drew his line in the sand. Stone's letter of resignation can be viewed in full here. The Trib didn't even have the guts to print it.
In case you're wondering, Chip Caray already left to take a job with the Braves and the booth remains open for next season and beyond. When asked if he'd be interested in assuming the mantle, Bob Costas politely demurred and said that he wouldn't be up to the challenge of -- get this -- "the greatest job in baseball." That, my friends, is the biggest lie in all of professional sports -- rivaled only by the idea that next year, any year, will hold more promise for the Cubs.
Long time readers (yeah, all four of you) know that I'd be the first guy to pull out a fiddle and dance a drunken jig if Wrigley Field burned to the ground, but news of veteran Cubs broadcaster Steve Stone's resignation at the end of October has still got me down. Steve Stone wasn't half bad as a player -- check out his amazing 25-7 season in 1980 for further reference. Note, as well, that it was enhanced by the four-man rotation Baltimore had in place during the season, but Stone was like the 70's equivalent of Woody Williams in his day.
I'm way too young to remember Stone as a player, though I can remember hearing the first game he called really well. It was in May 2004, before the players up and quit during the strike-shortened season. For my first trip to Wrigley, I tagged along with a guy who lived on the same floor of my dorm who just happened to be...Steve Stone's cousin. We sat underneath the broadcasting booth, within Budweiser-spilling distance of Harry Caray and Stone came out and greeted us during the 7th inning stretch. Quite an experience. The only other ballplayers I've ever that close were the 1995 Pirates (entire team) and this guy (also a relative of a friend), neither of which are anything to tell the future kids about.
I'm convinced that Steve Stone is one of the great unheralded geniuses of sports broadcasting and that time will unveil his 27-year run with the Cubs (with and without Caray) as deserving of Hall of fame consideration. Really, I apologize for the hyperbole -- the wounds are still raw -- but Stone got a raw deal. Apparently, Dusty Baker took issue with some of Stone's critical comments during a late-September game and that this year's team felt Stone wasn't really on their side.
The situation with the Cubs -- a team controlled by a monolithic media company, the parent organization of The Chicago Tribune -- is pretty complicated as it stands. The Chicago Sun-Times, despite its award-winning sports section, is engaged in a giant pissing contest with its competitor, and can't really be trusted to tell the truth about the Cubs. Stone was the guy I trusted to tell it to me straight -- he handled an ungainly, larger-than-life presence like Caray with ease and his commentaries were a perfect mix of erudition and regular-guy charm, unlike that obsequious boot-licker Chip Caray.
It's not a broadcaster's job to be a team booster when the team sucks. I had the opportunity to listen to all-time great Ernie Harwell call a late-summer Tigers game in his final season during an otherwise feverishly dull trip from Chicago to Pittsburgh. And it was great, no knocks on Harwell, but he was so good at masking his frustration with decades of sucky teams. The Cubs' freak pennant run in 2002 aside, Stone had the burden of witnessing the mishaps of a series of serially-underachieving teams. You have to bow to the party line to keep a job, though, and Stone ultimately realized this and drew his line in the sand. Stone's letter of resignation can be viewed in full here. The Trib didn't even have the guts to print it.
In case you're wondering, Chip Caray already left to take a job with the Braves and the booth remains open for next season and beyond. When asked if he'd be interested in assuming the mantle, Bob Costas politely demurred and said that he wouldn't be up to the challenge of -- get this -- "the greatest job in baseball." That, my friends, is the biggest lie in all of professional sports -- rivaled only by the idea that next year, any year, will hold more promise for the Cubs.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
End of the line
A few days late and dollar short with the analysis of the World Series here at McClendon's Folly, but the truth is that I sort of lost interest after the drubbing St. Louis got in Game Two. Everything after the first game was, well, pretty dull. Manny Ramirez was one of the most boring MVPs in recent memory, too -- he hit for the highest average in the series (.429) but didn't do anything spectacular at the plate or on the field. Curt Schilling emerged as a hero after his airtight start, surgically-repaired ankle and all, but then he turned Judas and endorsed the wrong candidate.
From The Girlfriend: "The Wrigley Curse makes sense, because it involves a goat, and goats are evil. But Boston has a curse because they sold a player in 1918? That candy bar sucks, anyway." Sing it, sister. That's the main reason I'm glad that Boston pasted the Cards in the final three games of the series and finally put the skeletons of The Babe, Bill Buckner and the longest history of institutional racism in MLB behind itself. And that's about it. It's good for the Red Sox. It's good for baseball. It wasn't the Yankees.
The New York Times picked up on the whole root-against-the-Yankees vibe the following day with four solid pages of coverage on the final game of the Series. All stories and headlines basically pointed to the same conclusion: where was the drama? Extract the buffet lunch of sour grapes and humble pie and you can't argue with the writers' tack. The main story here was Boston's perfect 8-game win streak from the ALCS through the World Series and how the Yankees and Cards wilted under the spotlight.
Still, even the Cardinals-Houston NLCS run would've been more intriguing as a coda: high and lows, ebbs and flows, rookies and veterans, one swirling mix. The Cardinals just couldn't bring it against the Sox; St. Louis was the best team in baseball this season, but the Red Sox were the best team in baseball in October. In the advent of a 162-game season, that month makes all the difference.
A few days late and dollar short with the analysis of the World Series here at McClendon's Folly, but the truth is that I sort of lost interest after the drubbing St. Louis got in Game Two. Everything after the first game was, well, pretty dull. Manny Ramirez was one of the most boring MVPs in recent memory, too -- he hit for the highest average in the series (.429) but didn't do anything spectacular at the plate or on the field. Curt Schilling emerged as a hero after his airtight start, surgically-repaired ankle and all, but then he turned Judas and endorsed the wrong candidate.
From The Girlfriend: "The Wrigley Curse makes sense, because it involves a goat, and goats are evil. But Boston has a curse because they sold a player in 1918? That candy bar sucks, anyway." Sing it, sister. That's the main reason I'm glad that Boston pasted the Cards in the final three games of the series and finally put the skeletons of The Babe, Bill Buckner and the longest history of institutional racism in MLB behind itself. And that's about it. It's good for the Red Sox. It's good for baseball. It wasn't the Yankees.
The New York Times picked up on the whole root-against-the-Yankees vibe the following day with four solid pages of coverage on the final game of the Series. All stories and headlines basically pointed to the same conclusion: where was the drama? Extract the buffet lunch of sour grapes and humble pie and you can't argue with the writers' tack. The main story here was Boston's perfect 8-game win streak from the ALCS through the World Series and how the Yankees and Cards wilted under the spotlight.
Still, even the Cardinals-Houston NLCS run would've been more intriguing as a coda: high and lows, ebbs and flows, rookies and veterans, one swirling mix. The Cardinals just couldn't bring it against the Sox; St. Louis was the best team in baseball this season, but the Red Sox were the best team in baseball in October. In the advent of a 162-game season, that month makes all the difference.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Big in Japan
Here's Diamondbacks washout Alex Cabrera celebrating after launching a two-run blast during Game 3 of the Fall Classic. No, not that championship series. The other series...in Japan, where the Seibu Lions just sealed up a championship in a tense series against the Chunichi Dragons. Would that fly in America? Only in the NFL, but Cabrera can still claim full jackass rights after a monster series which saw him knock two home runs (including a grand slam) in Game 3 and a pivotal two-run shot in Game 7 to rally the Lions in the final game of the series.
What's cool is that the Lions became the first Japanese baseball team to win the Japan Series by besting their opponents in the final two games on the road. So there's some hope for the Cardinals in all this, I suppose, if they could only win a goddamn game. Team's MVP was starter Takashi Ishii, who finished the series with a sterling 0.00 era after going 1-5 during the regular season.
I don't pretend to know a lot about Japanese baseball, short of what I've read in Robert Whiting's excellent and informative chronicle You've Gotta Have Wa. I'd like to know more, mind you, but Japanese baseball remains woefully underexposed here in the U.S. Just think: Hideki Matsui has a team of journalists following him around and waiting for him to squeeze out a fart so it can make top headlines in Japan. And then Alex Cabrera goes over to Japan, does his best impression of David Ortiz, and no one seems to care.
I'm not concerned with that particular inequity, because Japanese leagues have been employing foreign (mot just U.S., but Korea and Taiwan) players with a much greater frequency for a much longer period of time. But with seventeen different ESPN channels on the dish, there's no room to air this series? C'mon: less teams, parity between the teams and a smaller talent pool to draw from -- the seven-game stretch sounds like it was a lot more intriguing than what's going on here right now.
Boston's up 4-0 as I write this. Go Lions!
Here's Diamondbacks washout Alex Cabrera celebrating after launching a two-run blast during Game 3 of the Fall Classic. No, not that championship series. The other series...in Japan, where the Seibu Lions just sealed up a championship in a tense series against the Chunichi Dragons. Would that fly in America? Only in the NFL, but Cabrera can still claim full jackass rights after a monster series which saw him knock two home runs (including a grand slam) in Game 3 and a pivotal two-run shot in Game 7 to rally the Lions in the final game of the series.
What's cool is that the Lions became the first Japanese baseball team to win the Japan Series by besting their opponents in the final two games on the road. So there's some hope for the Cardinals in all this, I suppose, if they could only win a goddamn game. Team's MVP was starter Takashi Ishii, who finished the series with a sterling 0.00 era after going 1-5 during the regular season.
I don't pretend to know a lot about Japanese baseball, short of what I've read in Robert Whiting's excellent and informative chronicle You've Gotta Have Wa. I'd like to know more, mind you, but Japanese baseball remains woefully underexposed here in the U.S. Just think: Hideki Matsui has a team of journalists following him around and waiting for him to squeeze out a fart so it can make top headlines in Japan. And then Alex Cabrera goes over to Japan, does his best impression of David Ortiz, and no one seems to care.
I'm not concerned with that particular inequity, because Japanese leagues have been employing foreign (mot just U.S., but Korea and Taiwan) players with a much greater frequency for a much longer period of time. But with seventeen different ESPN channels on the dish, there's no room to air this series? C'mon: less teams, parity between the teams and a smaller talent pool to draw from -- the seven-game stretch sounds like it was a lot more intriguing than what's going on here right now.
Boston's up 4-0 as I write this. Go Lions!
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Pretty ugly
The Las Vegas bookmakers called it right before Game 1 -- I can't see Boston steamrolling St. Louis in four games (or 3 1/2 as our man Bill "Spaceman" Lee might hope), but it may be the safest best to throw money on the Sox on the basis of momentum and a (slightly) deeper pitching staff and bench. I mean, La Russa had to start So Taguchi in left field last night in order to cover the DH slot. And while the move worked out fine -- Taguchi's ok defensively and went 1-for-3 at the plate -- Boston has the distinct advantage of being able to play the unflappable David Ortiz and Kevin Millar on home turf.
Peter Gammons says that the Cardinals outplayed the Red Sox last night, but I'm not sure that's true. Yes, the Sox were a mess defensively. Manny Ramirez continues to be his own worst enemy with some terrible plays. Did you see him dive for that ball and miss? Yikes. But Trot Nixon was the only Sox starter who failed to collect a hit, whereas the deepest part of the St. Louis order -- Pujols, Rolen and Sanders -- went a combined 0-11 and a 1/3 of the Cardinals' runs came courtesy of their opponent's errors. So offensively -- edge to the Red Sox. The old saw about pitching separating the contenders from the pretenders in the post season hasn't held true during the entire run of the playoffs, so why start now? Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for some smashmouth baseball; Vinny Testaverde couldn't score this many runs with a Philadelphia offense behind him.
The Las Vegas bookmakers called it right before Game 1 -- I can't see Boston steamrolling St. Louis in four games (or 3 1/2 as our man Bill "Spaceman" Lee might hope), but it may be the safest best to throw money on the Sox on the basis of momentum and a (slightly) deeper pitching staff and bench. I mean, La Russa had to start So Taguchi in left field last night in order to cover the DH slot. And while the move worked out fine -- Taguchi's ok defensively and went 1-for-3 at the plate -- Boston has the distinct advantage of being able to play the unflappable David Ortiz and Kevin Millar on home turf.
Peter Gammons says that the Cardinals outplayed the Red Sox last night, but I'm not sure that's true. Yes, the Sox were a mess defensively. Manny Ramirez continues to be his own worst enemy with some terrible plays. Did you see him dive for that ball and miss? Yikes. But Trot Nixon was the only Sox starter who failed to collect a hit, whereas the deepest part of the St. Louis order -- Pujols, Rolen and Sanders -- went a combined 0-11 and a 1/3 of the Cardinals' runs came courtesy of their opponent's errors. So offensively -- edge to the Red Sox. The old saw about pitching separating the contenders from the pretenders in the post season hasn't held true during the entire run of the playoffs, so why start now? Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for some smashmouth baseball; Vinny Testaverde couldn't score this many runs with a Philadelphia offense behind him.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Back to the Future
From now on, I only want to hear Bill "Spaceman" Lee commenting on the postseason. During last year's Red Sox-Yankees match-up, Lee went on NPR and offered this gem:
"Uranus is in an 84-year cycle, and the last time Uranus was in this position after a loop around the sun was in 1918" -- the Sox' last World Series victory, beating (who else?) the Cubs -- "so the moons are positioned that, you know, in -- they're suspending all weddings in India right now in the Hindu religion because of the proximity of Mars and the way things are going. You know, things are really agitated."
Last night, NPR brought Lee back to discuss Boston's triumphant Game 7 victory, breaking the curse of the Bambino and the possibility of meeting the Cardinals again in the World Series. Lee went on to unpack a sensible theory about how the Yankees owe all of their historical postseason success to the Red Sox. But it wouldn't be a Lee commentary without some flighty nonsense, as he weighed in on karma and how the Red Sox and Cardinals are destined to meet each other in preordained intervals. And the inevitable outcome of the series? "The Red Sox will finish them off in 3 1/2 games. We'll beat them so badly they'll forfeit the last 4 innings."
This man could win you the election, Senator Kerry.
From now on, I only want to hear Bill "Spaceman" Lee commenting on the postseason. During last year's Red Sox-Yankees match-up, Lee went on NPR and offered this gem:
"Uranus is in an 84-year cycle, and the last time Uranus was in this position after a loop around the sun was in 1918" -- the Sox' last World Series victory, beating (who else?) the Cubs -- "so the moons are positioned that, you know, in -- they're suspending all weddings in India right now in the Hindu religion because of the proximity of Mars and the way things are going. You know, things are really agitated."
Last night, NPR brought Lee back to discuss Boston's triumphant Game 7 victory, breaking the curse of the Bambino and the possibility of meeting the Cardinals again in the World Series. Lee went on to unpack a sensible theory about how the Yankees owe all of their historical postseason success to the Red Sox. But it wouldn't be a Lee commentary without some flighty nonsense, as he weighed in on karma and how the Red Sox and Cardinals are destined to meet each other in preordained intervals. And the inevitable outcome of the series? "The Red Sox will finish them off in 3 1/2 games. We'll beat them so badly they'll forfeit the last 4 innings."
This man could win you the election, Senator Kerry.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
The Tigers Have Spoken
A friend in Detroit sent me a link to the following article about Cecil Fielder's recent struggles with a gambling addiction and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The guy's destitute, his family hasn't really heard from him, and he's had this outrageous fall from fortune that makes MC Hammer's Behind the Music reveal look trivial.
Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote a poem about the dual nature of greatness and fall from grace around 200 years ago and it's stuck with me since I first encountered it in 9th grade. Even those who have a weak stomach for poetry (as I do) would be hard pressed to argue that "Ozymandias" isn't lyrical perfection -- 14 lines that say everything that needs to be said on the subject with unflinching beauty and masterful economy. I think the author of the Detroit News postmortem must've had Shelley trapped in the recesses of his mind, too, particularly in the way he describes how Fielder's Florida mansion has suffered from neglect in the intervening years. Here's that poem for reference:
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
You could stick those lines in a post about, say, Pete Rose or any other fallen idol for that matter -- but we're constantly reminded of Rose's greatness on the field. It's amazing how well the poem fits Fielder's legacy, though, especially since the memory of his 1990-93 run with the Tigers has fallen into a state of disrepair and neglect. Fielder's 1990 season, in particular, was electric -- he became the first major leaguer to bash 50 home runs since Big Red Machine cog George Foster in '77 and led the league in rbi, slugging percentage and total bases. Only Rickey Henderson did more damage at the plate.
Fielder's biggest impact on baseball, I think, remains unrecognized. His success in 1990 was directly responsible in motivating big league execs to look towards Japan as a viable source of talent for the major leagues. Before Fielder came back to the States, Japan was the place to go for the twilight of your career. Leon Lee played there. Bob Horner, too. But no one ever came back from the Land of the Rising Sun and kicked ass like Fielder. The Marlins took a cue and signed reclamation project Orestes Destrade to a plum contract in the immediate aftermath; a few years later, Hideo Nomo came to the Dodgers and busted the seal wide open. For me, Fielder's one of those guys -- like Curt Flood, I guess -- where his big contribution came from kicking off a chain reaction of important events. Pity it had to end up like this.
A friend in Detroit sent me a link to the following article about Cecil Fielder's recent struggles with a gambling addiction and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The guy's destitute, his family hasn't really heard from him, and he's had this outrageous fall from fortune that makes MC Hammer's Behind the Music reveal look trivial.
Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote a poem about the dual nature of greatness and fall from grace around 200 years ago and it's stuck with me since I first encountered it in 9th grade. Even those who have a weak stomach for poetry (as I do) would be hard pressed to argue that "Ozymandias" isn't lyrical perfection -- 14 lines that say everything that needs to be said on the subject with unflinching beauty and masterful economy. I think the author of the Detroit News postmortem must've had Shelley trapped in the recesses of his mind, too, particularly in the way he describes how Fielder's Florida mansion has suffered from neglect in the intervening years. Here's that poem for reference:
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
You could stick those lines in a post about, say, Pete Rose or any other fallen idol for that matter -- but we're constantly reminded of Rose's greatness on the field. It's amazing how well the poem fits Fielder's legacy, though, especially since the memory of his 1990-93 run with the Tigers has fallen into a state of disrepair and neglect. Fielder's 1990 season, in particular, was electric -- he became the first major leaguer to bash 50 home runs since Big Red Machine cog George Foster in '77 and led the league in rbi, slugging percentage and total bases. Only Rickey Henderson did more damage at the plate.
Fielder's biggest impact on baseball, I think, remains unrecognized. His success in 1990 was directly responsible in motivating big league execs to look towards Japan as a viable source of talent for the major leagues. Before Fielder came back to the States, Japan was the place to go for the twilight of your career. Leon Lee played there. Bob Horner, too. But no one ever came back from the Land of the Rising Sun and kicked ass like Fielder. The Marlins took a cue and signed reclamation project Orestes Destrade to a plum contract in the immediate aftermath; a few years later, Hideo Nomo came to the Dodgers and busted the seal wide open. For me, Fielder's one of those guys -- like Curt Flood, I guess -- where his big contribution came from kicking off a chain reaction of important events. Pity it had to end up like this.
Monday, October 18, 2004
The fat lady has been muzzled
Over in the Lone Star state, Brandon Backe and Woody Williams flirted with perfection. Backe ran a no-hitter 'til the 6th and and both pitchers rang up goose eggs on the ol' scoreboard in 15 combined innings of work before Jason Isringhausen coughed up three runs in the bottom of the ninth. This is what we usually expect from a championship game -- two competitors running neck-and-neck, challenging each other inning after inning. This was postseason perfection.
And back under the shadow of the Green Monster, there was imperfection. Loads of it. Longest ALCS game ever, as a matter of fact -- took 14 innings and 14 pitchers just to sort this mess out. Moose came out triumphant over Pedro to kick it all off, but the game belonged to the Red Sox after the 6th inning...even if these guys couldn't catch a break until Tim McCarver exhausted every last one of his shot-calling aphorisms.
There was Bronson Arroyo, he of the golden cornrows, stepping to the mound after a disastrous Game 3 start and fooling the best part of the Yankees' order with filthy stuff. And Mike Myers, whose sidearm delivery moves s-l-o-w-e-r than a lady of leisure unfolding an Chinese fan, rattling off four pitches of molasses. And Alan Embree finishing off the inning by striking out two straight batters. And Tim Wakefield scaring the bejeesus out of everyone but the Red Sox Nation hopefuls with what seemed like at least sixteen straight passed balls. Varitek couldn't even restrain Wakefield's knuckle.
Don't doubt for a second that David Ortiz said what you thought he said after the ump called him out on a what-game-were-you-watching checked swing, though. Ortiz clearly turned to the camera and mouthed "That's bullshit!" before returning to the dugout and finding himself at the receiving end of a series of bad calls that deserved far greater expletives. Who could blame him? Dude was so enraged that he ripped a soft Esteban Loaiza pitch right into center with two outs in the 14th to bring Johnny Damon home and send the Yankees back to New York licking their wounds.
Best way to combat indifference and doubt? If you're the Braves, you fold and regroup. But in Boston and Houston, you stay hungry. I don't think there's every been a postseason performance to match what Carlos Beltran is doing for the Astros. He's en fuego, with a home run in, like, every third at-bat -- he is the team. And Ortiz? He keeps saving the day, too. He's not going to carry Boston like Beltran with the Astros, but he's doing collateral damage with that .500 postseason average. And he's pissed off. Walk him, pitch around him, trick him into a ground ball out, whatever -- just stay the fuck out of his way.
Over in the Lone Star state, Brandon Backe and Woody Williams flirted with perfection. Backe ran a no-hitter 'til the 6th and and both pitchers rang up goose eggs on the ol' scoreboard in 15 combined innings of work before Jason Isringhausen coughed up three runs in the bottom of the ninth. This is what we usually expect from a championship game -- two competitors running neck-and-neck, challenging each other inning after inning. This was postseason perfection.
And back under the shadow of the Green Monster, there was imperfection. Loads of it. Longest ALCS game ever, as a matter of fact -- took 14 innings and 14 pitchers just to sort this mess out. Moose came out triumphant over Pedro to kick it all off, but the game belonged to the Red Sox after the 6th inning...even if these guys couldn't catch a break until Tim McCarver exhausted every last one of his shot-calling aphorisms.
There was Bronson Arroyo, he of the golden cornrows, stepping to the mound after a disastrous Game 3 start and fooling the best part of the Yankees' order with filthy stuff. And Mike Myers, whose sidearm delivery moves s-l-o-w-e-r than a lady of leisure unfolding an Chinese fan, rattling off four pitches of molasses. And Alan Embree finishing off the inning by striking out two straight batters. And Tim Wakefield scaring the bejeesus out of everyone but the Red Sox Nation hopefuls with what seemed like at least sixteen straight passed balls. Varitek couldn't even restrain Wakefield's knuckle.
Don't doubt for a second that David Ortiz said what you thought he said after the ump called him out on a what-game-were-you-watching checked swing, though. Ortiz clearly turned to the camera and mouthed "That's bullshit!" before returning to the dugout and finding himself at the receiving end of a series of bad calls that deserved far greater expletives. Who could blame him? Dude was so enraged that he ripped a soft Esteban Loaiza pitch right into center with two outs in the 14th to bring Johnny Damon home and send the Yankees back to New York licking their wounds.
Best way to combat indifference and doubt? If you're the Braves, you fold and regroup. But in Boston and Houston, you stay hungry. I don't think there's every been a postseason performance to match what Carlos Beltran is doing for the Astros. He's en fuego, with a home run in, like, every third at-bat -- he is the team. And Ortiz? He keeps saving the day, too. He's not going to carry Boston like Beltran with the Astros, but he's doing collateral damage with that .500 postseason average. And he's pissed off. Walk him, pitch around him, trick him into a ground ball out, whatever -- just stay the fuck out of his way.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
The Tide is High
I don't get it. But look at the guy in the picture with his shit-eating grin, ready to prostrate himself for George Costanza's longtime employer. I mean, it makes no sense -- maybe we've moved from the usual hyper-misogynist depictions of the "other" team and its fans as "ladies" and on to forced infantilization. What a slap in the face to all those adults I've seen strolling around in Huggies and bonnets on the Jenny Jones show? Seriously, what would Vice magazine say about this? Yikes.
Game 3 of the ALCS moves to tonight after Bud Selig canceled last night's contest for fear of inclement weather. What a drag for Houston and Stl, who can't catch a break with the scheduling when there's a Yankees or Red Sox around to grab a larger network share. And the Red Sox? Still in the fetal position, no matter what the Boston-area message boards would lead you to believe about momentum, changing heart, et al. Boston's irresistible force can't knock the Yankees' immovable object out of the way. Brown vs. Arroyo tonight and Hernandez vs. Wakefield tomorrow; both games are at Fenway, but both pitching match-ups favor the Yankees. Or do they?
Brown has no decisions against the Red Soc this year, and hasn't pitched against the division rivals since April, when he faced Boston in two unimpressive starts. And Hernandez, who had an otherwise fine last half, only faced Boston once in September and got knocked out after 3 innings. Arroyo has four no decisions in four starts against the Yankees, though the Red Sox cruised to victory in all of the games he started with not much help from him. Wakefield moves to the top of the leader board in wins, because unlike the other three, he actually nailed down a win against the Yankees.
The crystal ball is as cloudy as the Boston skyline, though, and I'm going to have to go with my gut. I'll guess that the Yankees show Boston who's their Yankee Daddy in tonight's game, while Boston fearing the humiliation of being swept, turns on the juice and takes game four. Key to this weekend's contests = Manny Ramirez, doing a marvelous impression of Barry Bonds in the postseason. Wake up, dude.
I don't get it. But look at the guy in the picture with his shit-eating grin, ready to prostrate himself for George Costanza's longtime employer. I mean, it makes no sense -- maybe we've moved from the usual hyper-misogynist depictions of the "other" team and its fans as "ladies" and on to forced infantilization. What a slap in the face to all those adults I've seen strolling around in Huggies and bonnets on the Jenny Jones show? Seriously, what would Vice magazine say about this? Yikes.
Game 3 of the ALCS moves to tonight after Bud Selig canceled last night's contest for fear of inclement weather. What a drag for Houston and Stl, who can't catch a break with the scheduling when there's a Yankees or Red Sox around to grab a larger network share. And the Red Sox? Still in the fetal position, no matter what the Boston-area message boards would lead you to believe about momentum, changing heart, et al. Boston's irresistible force can't knock the Yankees' immovable object out of the way. Brown vs. Arroyo tonight and Hernandez vs. Wakefield tomorrow; both games are at Fenway, but both pitching match-ups favor the Yankees. Or do they?
Brown has no decisions against the Red Soc this year, and hasn't pitched against the division rivals since April, when he faced Boston in two unimpressive starts. And Hernandez, who had an otherwise fine last half, only faced Boston once in September and got knocked out after 3 innings. Arroyo has four no decisions in four starts against the Yankees, though the Red Sox cruised to victory in all of the games he started with not much help from him. Wakefield moves to the top of the leader board in wins, because unlike the other three, he actually nailed down a win against the Yankees.
The crystal ball is as cloudy as the Boston skyline, though, and I'm going to have to go with my gut. I'll guess that the Yankees show Boston who's their Yankee Daddy in tonight's game, while Boston fearing the humiliation of being swept, turns on the juice and takes game four. Key to this weekend's contests = Manny Ramirez, doing a marvelous impression of Barry Bonds in the postseason. Wake up, dude.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Babies Got Backe
The Astros deserve so much more. Here's a team that was six games under .500 at the All-Star break and waffled over trading Carlos Beltran to a contender like our man John K on America's continuing involvement in Iraq. But it's a war, man, and the 'Stros soldiered on through the second half of the season, against their better judgment -- against anyone's better judgment -- and came up with a wild-card berth.
And now? Andy Petitte's on the shelf and Roger Clemens and Wade Miller have to wait 'til games #3 and #4 to make a mark. So the Astros are throwing out two guys named Pete Munro (who starts the big game tonight) and Brandon Backe (whose success has a pitcher has been so waaaaayyyy out of leftfield that he, uh, actually started in that position). Didn't work well in the first game as Backe went backe to the clubhouse, but maybe Munro can pull a Tim Wakefield and make some noise in the big postseason start.
I don't like his team's chances, though. And that's a no-brainer. My god, can the Cardinals rake. It doesn't even matter how many times Carlos Beltran can go yard. It doesn't matter that year's comeback kid Chris Carpenter went down for the rest of the season. It doesn't matter that Scott Rolen's performance against L.A. was worthy of a Mr. Yuk sticker. St. Louis is so good off the bench and in the bullpen than all of the puzzle pieces are right there. And this team's cauldron bubbles over with personality like the '93 Phillies or the '87 Twins -- you can't root for the Astros without feeling a little sorry for them, but you can get right behind the Cardinals.
And either way -- though a World Series berth for the Cardinals has been written in stone since May -- this'll be the first time a NL Central team will advance to the World Series since the introduction of the wild card. And that feels electric, considering how much pride people have taken on hating on the NL Central over the last couple of years. St. Louis has angels in the outfield and divine right on its side. Watch Edmonds-Pujols-Walker destroy the Yankees for their fallen Astros comrades. Watch them do it for the also-rans and never-weres in Pittsburgh and Milwaukee and Cincinnati. And watch them do it for the good of baseball.
The Astros deserve so much more. Here's a team that was six games under .500 at the All-Star break and waffled over trading Carlos Beltran to a contender like our man John K on America's continuing involvement in Iraq. But it's a war, man, and the 'Stros soldiered on through the second half of the season, against their better judgment -- against anyone's better judgment -- and came up with a wild-card berth.
And now? Andy Petitte's on the shelf and Roger Clemens and Wade Miller have to wait 'til games #3 and #4 to make a mark. So the Astros are throwing out two guys named Pete Munro (who starts the big game tonight) and Brandon Backe (whose success has a pitcher has been so waaaaayyyy out of leftfield that he, uh, actually started in that position). Didn't work well in the first game as Backe went backe to the clubhouse, but maybe Munro can pull a Tim Wakefield and make some noise in the big postseason start.
I don't like his team's chances, though. And that's a no-brainer. My god, can the Cardinals rake. It doesn't even matter how many times Carlos Beltran can go yard. It doesn't matter that year's comeback kid Chris Carpenter went down for the rest of the season. It doesn't matter that Scott Rolen's performance against L.A. was worthy of a Mr. Yuk sticker. St. Louis is so good off the bench and in the bullpen than all of the puzzle pieces are right there. And this team's cauldron bubbles over with personality like the '93 Phillies or the '87 Twins -- you can't root for the Astros without feeling a little sorry for them, but you can get right behind the Cardinals.
And either way -- though a World Series berth for the Cardinals has been written in stone since May -- this'll be the first time a NL Central team will advance to the World Series since the introduction of the wild card. And that feels electric, considering how much pride people have taken on hating on the NL Central over the last couple of years. St. Louis has angels in the outfield and divine right on its side. Watch Edmonds-Pujols-Walker destroy the Yankees for their fallen Astros comrades. Watch them do it for the also-rans and never-weres in Pittsburgh and Milwaukee and Cincinnati. And watch them do it for the good of baseball.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Frying pan or fire?
Hadn't watched a lick of baseball for a month preceding last night's Yankees-Red Sox match-up. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that from my lack of posts at the end of the season. Is it mid-October already? The last month has seemed like an out-of-body experience as I've been doing my best impression of my father-as-burgeoning-workaholic, burning the candle at both ends. And something had to go and it looks like I missed out on a lot of fun games, as well as the Astros remarkable half-season sprint towards the playoffs (more on this next time).
Baseball's not basketball and it sure as hell ain't hockey; only a choice few teams make the playoffs, teams with mediocre attributes never advance on to the postseason and the disconnect between the regular season and the post-season is much less than in any other professional sports league. Which is to say: there's a purpose to actually watching regular season games, whereas there's no reason to watch hockey until all but two teams make the playoffs and duke it out for what seems like two solid months of contests. I dunno; up until the introduction of the wild card a few years ago, I actually never even saw a point to getting down with the playoffs until the World Series -- even with a personal stake in the proceedings during The Pirates' near-miss runs between 1990-1992.
So: last night. Not a bad game. 6 innings of what seemed like an analog for the regular season, with the Yankees chasing Schilling out of the game early and asserting dominance in every way (though the BoSox retain their slight edge in moral superiority and a massive lead in stupid haircuts). Then: a spark, a fire, a full-on blaze as the Sox pound out 5 runs in the 7th and 2 more in the 8th to pull within one run of the Evil Empire before Bernie Williams knocked two more runs in to widen the gap.
And this, my friends, is what Joseph Campbell was talking about with the power of myth. Bill Mueller -- who the Fox commentators delighted in reminding us has made Mariano Rivera his bitch this season -- up at the plate with two men on and a chance for some more of his regular season heroics. One long ball is all it takes to tie the game and shift the dynamics of the game. Ball, whiff, ball, foul...and Mueller hits into a double-play to end the game. Mueller's no goat, but Rivera's back to being top dog. NY fans rejoice, Boston fans head to the nearest Irish pub. And it ain't over by a long shot.
Hadn't watched a lick of baseball for a month preceding last night's Yankees-Red Sox match-up. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that from my lack of posts at the end of the season. Is it mid-October already? The last month has seemed like an out-of-body experience as I've been doing my best impression of my father-as-burgeoning-workaholic, burning the candle at both ends. And something had to go and it looks like I missed out on a lot of fun games, as well as the Astros remarkable half-season sprint towards the playoffs (more on this next time).
Baseball's not basketball and it sure as hell ain't hockey; only a choice few teams make the playoffs, teams with mediocre attributes never advance on to the postseason and the disconnect between the regular season and the post-season is much less than in any other professional sports league. Which is to say: there's a purpose to actually watching regular season games, whereas there's no reason to watch hockey until all but two teams make the playoffs and duke it out for what seems like two solid months of contests. I dunno; up until the introduction of the wild card a few years ago, I actually never even saw a point to getting down with the playoffs until the World Series -- even with a personal stake in the proceedings during The Pirates' near-miss runs between 1990-1992.
So: last night. Not a bad game. 6 innings of what seemed like an analog for the regular season, with the Yankees chasing Schilling out of the game early and asserting dominance in every way (though the BoSox retain their slight edge in moral superiority and a massive lead in stupid haircuts). Then: a spark, a fire, a full-on blaze as the Sox pound out 5 runs in the 7th and 2 more in the 8th to pull within one run of the Evil Empire before Bernie Williams knocked two more runs in to widen the gap.
And this, my friends, is what Joseph Campbell was talking about with the power of myth. Bill Mueller -- who the Fox commentators delighted in reminding us has made Mariano Rivera his bitch this season -- up at the plate with two men on and a chance for some more of his regular season heroics. One long ball is all it takes to tie the game and shift the dynamics of the game. Ball, whiff, ball, foul...and Mueller hits into a double-play to end the game. Mueller's no goat, but Rivera's back to being top dog. NY fans rejoice, Boston fans head to the nearest Irish pub. And it ain't over by a long shot.
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