Last night, pitching excellence was on display in Anaheim as Justin Verlander let up 1 run in 7 innings... but he lost as Dan Haren just devastated the Tigers in every single way with a complete game 2 hitter where he walked NOBODY. In the end, it was representative of what the game of baseball has become - all pitching and very little hitting (save Jeter's 4 hits that he still has to get before Sunday night and Albert Pujols returning from the sick ward to kick the hell out of the National League Central pretenders).
Yet instead of embracing it, we pretend that the home run derby still matters in 2011.
The same could be said about Pittsburgh and Cleveland's rejuvination, but as they're on the other side of the PA Turnpike's 4 tunnels, so nobody seems to care what goes on out in the Alleghenies and Lake Erie. It's all about the longball - even if we have to utilize the aging, the one hit wonders, and the contact hitters of baseball to get it. People still aren't turning on ROOT and listening to the sound of joy come from a city better known for its football team.
Nope... it's all about post steroids era sluggers of which Ryan Howard wasn't even invited to be a part of it.
And with that, it seems that Big Sluggi is starting some kind of a trend that is about 13 years too late - picking his own home run derby team. In a day and age when the bashers aren't really coming to play (they're too afraid to hurt their swings) and the All Star Game is filled with sub par types (is Chipper Jones there because he's actually that good or is it because he's actually healthy at this point in the season), can anyone out there really feel that it's time to dig into the wallet and watch Chris Berman come up with new ways to cheer on a home run when it's Rickie Weeks doing the swinging? OK, so it's not like Prince Fielder had many good choices to go with for his team (someone equally pudgy had to counter Big Sluggi's actions after all), but certainly there had to be someone worth choosing... (Lance Berkman, maybe).
So the excitement of excitement is Prince Fielder, Jose Bautista (my pick to win it), David Ortiz, Weeks, Matt Holliday, Adrian Gonzalez, Robinson Cano, and Matt Kemp. I won't be wasting time watching too much of it (besides, I teach during the first part of it), but all in all, were I to wait for the replay in the morning, I wouldn't really feel too glued to the TV for those guys.
What I would watch wtih slobbering affection is Justin Verlander going toe to toe against Dan Haren, Tim Lincecum, Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee, Felix Herndandez, James Shields, and David Price in a contest of seeing how many times that they can strike out Mark Reynolds, Drew Stubbs, Ryan Howard, Austin Jackson, Kelly Johnson, Adam Dunn, Mike Stanton, and Ryan Raburn. Today's crop of free swinging losers need to be shown up for what they are - overpaid and forgettable players.
There would be something beautiful in watching Howard get tripped up with a nasty pitch thrown high and inside or seeing Reynolds looking absolutely glazed over as he goes down again (and again and again) with a nasty curve ball. Adam Dunn's utter futility this year would be on display as he would surely chase many a slider that exploded in the dirt. And if that's because the pitchers are better, so be it. Let's see their nasty prowess, and let's see how they make players as worthless at the plate as an Eric Chavez type that just gives up to cower in fear from the bench.
And that's the point. It's the Year of the Pitcher 2. If Drew Stubbs wants to feel big and potent (like Rickie Weeks who is somehow in the derby), let him face some real pitching. If he can hit for power, let him take on the best of the best for pitching power. Hell, I'd even pay to see Randy Johnson take time off from his gig at making old guys not feel gray to come back and devastate the lineup that is going into the derby. Ten pitches each... who can hit this guy? Johnson would still be the Big Ugly, I'm sure.
So in this era of the guy on the mound, let's not pretend that any of these batters are worth a hill of beans.
Showing posts with label Albert Pujols. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Albert Pujols. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Wilson Betemit
St. Louis continues to face dark skies, and we know that when you're getting rained (or urinated) on, it tends to pour. Wainwright. Carpenter. Holliday. Being cursed to have to deal with Tony Larussa on a day in day out basis...
Yep... and now it's this line straight from ESPN about Albert...
"a non-displaced fracture of his left radius and his arm is in a splint."
Of all the things that we never thought we would have to do in life (wear an A-Rod jersey, watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding + 8 Mile, sit through an entire episode of the Kardashians, or ever have to relive the junior high school years after getting sucked into a horrible nightmare of a wayback machine moment), it seems that we now have to write about his assailant: Wilson Betemit.
Let it be known that it's only because he's now officially the dirtbag who took out Albert Pujols' and his ability to go .300, 30, 100, and 100 this year (he came up 1 run short of this only once in his 10 year career, but thanks to nobody loser Bettamit, it's going to happen since he's .279, 17, 52, and 49 this year).
We are not impressed.
Just like with his 8 year career that has him at shades above .260 and less than 60 jacks and no speed to speak of, Betemit is a person in need of a career shift - even if he's hitting .287 in 188 at bats for perennial cellar dwellers Kansas City.
Thus, for ruining Albert Pujols' 2011, we want to wish him some or all of these 10 things that somehow won't affect our karma.
1. A trip to the Gulf of Aden.
2. A job cleaning up after a New York Republican representative.
3. Teaching Megan Fox about World War Two in order to increase her chances of ever working in Hollywood again.
4. Getting to screen Shaq's newest career move.
5. A free course with Dale Carnegie.
6. The A-Rod run to first base course.
7. The chance to throw a luncheon for NFL owners and players.
8. A chance for a new career with a name that will completely fit him.
9. Being the guy who creates and cleans up after Justin Bieber's parties.
10. Helping others to overcome their inappropriately chosen words. Kind of like...
"I was running hard and the ball arrived at the same time I got to the base. I couldn't do anything about it. He hit me on my left arm, that's why he dropped the ball. I hit him and then I saw him on the ground. That's part of the game. I couldn't do anything about it."
Yep... and now it's this line straight from ESPN about Albert...
"a non-displaced fracture of his left radius and his arm is in a splint."
Of all the things that we never thought we would have to do in life (wear an A-Rod jersey, watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding + 8 Mile, sit through an entire episode of the Kardashians, or ever have to relive the junior high school years after getting sucked into a horrible nightmare of a wayback machine moment), it seems that we now have to write about his assailant: Wilson Betemit.
Let it be known that it's only because he's now officially the dirtbag who took out Albert Pujols' and his ability to go .300, 30, 100, and 100 this year (he came up 1 run short of this only once in his 10 year career, but thanks to nobody loser Bettamit, it's going to happen since he's .279, 17, 52, and 49 this year).
We are not impressed.
Just like with his 8 year career that has him at shades above .260 and less than 60 jacks and no speed to speak of, Betemit is a person in need of a career shift - even if he's hitting .287 in 188 at bats for perennial cellar dwellers Kansas City.
Thus, for ruining Albert Pujols' 2011, we want to wish him some or all of these 10 things that somehow won't affect our karma.
1. A trip to the Gulf of Aden.
2. A job cleaning up after a New York Republican representative.
3. Teaching Megan Fox about World War Two in order to increase her chances of ever working in Hollywood again.
4. Getting to screen Shaq's newest career move.
5. A free course with Dale Carnegie.
6. The A-Rod run to first base course.
7. The chance to throw a luncheon for NFL owners and players.
8. A chance for a new career with a name that will completely fit him.
9. Being the guy who creates and cleans up after Justin Bieber's parties.
10. Helping others to overcome their inappropriately chosen words. Kind of like...
"I was running hard and the ball arrived at the same time I got to the base. I couldn't do anything about it. He hit me on my left arm, that's why he dropped the ball. I hit him and then I saw him on the ground. That's part of the game. I couldn't do anything about it."
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Orlando Cabrera
Since he left the Red Sox, Orlando Cabrera has been with the Angels, White Sox, Twins, A's, and now the Indians. In 2004, he was the replacement for Nomar Garciaparra, and he helped bring the Red Sox over the hump. I still can't believe that they didn't keep him.
Last night, he was the 23rd out that didn't go quietly, so instead, he was the first hit in what could have been Justin Verlander's 3rd no hitter (Sandy Koufax, anyone?). Quietly, the Motor City is producing a pitcher who is flat out dominant (4-0 on a 2 hitter). Sure, there's the flip flop wins of the Red Sox, Rays, and Yankees to keep the division close (as Derek Jeter goes on the 15-day disabled list to postpone the great annunciation of the the next member of the 3000 hit club), but last night, there were 3 base runners and 12 whiff victims as Verlander was flat out dealing.
It's stuff like that, which makes Albert Pujols sub .300 performance not matter (even if he had a homer last night in his team's losing efforts against the frickin' Nationals). One for three with 2 walks means he's only hitting .275, but Verlander... he's pitching to the tune of 8-3, 2.66, and 105 total strikeouts. That's just sick. And we didn't even mention the 0.89 WHIP after 15 games (that would be number one - just over Cole Hamels, who is slightly better on ERA and slightly less in strikeouts over 1 less game).
And while Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay have more Ks and a lower ERA than he does, he's better than them on all other things. And he's doing it all in obscurity. Sure, Clayton Kershaw has a lot of strikeouts, too, but it's not like he's much better than the 6-3 record he's posting for the crappy Dodgers.
So when it comes time to meet up for the All Star Game in the desert this July, we need to be voting with something other than East Coast bias for the perennial favorites. It's time to reward some obscure excellence and some youthful greatness. This isn't about seeing the same old dinosaurs and extoling their former virtues. This is about raising a game from the aging nature of its stars that have long since gone away.
For that is the future of the game.
Last night, he was the 23rd out that didn't go quietly, so instead, he was the first hit in what could have been Justin Verlander's 3rd no hitter (Sandy Koufax, anyone?). Quietly, the Motor City is producing a pitcher who is flat out dominant (4-0 on a 2 hitter). Sure, there's the flip flop wins of the Red Sox, Rays, and Yankees to keep the division close (as Derek Jeter goes on the 15-day disabled list to postpone the great annunciation of the the next member of the 3000 hit club), but last night, there were 3 base runners and 12 whiff victims as Verlander was flat out dealing.
It's stuff like that, which makes Albert Pujols sub .300 performance not matter (even if he had a homer last night in his team's losing efforts against the frickin' Nationals). One for three with 2 walks means he's only hitting .275, but Verlander... he's pitching to the tune of 8-3, 2.66, and 105 total strikeouts. That's just sick. And we didn't even mention the 0.89 WHIP after 15 games (that would be number one - just over Cole Hamels, who is slightly better on ERA and slightly less in strikeouts over 1 less game).
And while Cliff Lee and Roy Halladay have more Ks and a lower ERA than he does, he's better than them on all other things. And he's doing it all in obscurity. Sure, Clayton Kershaw has a lot of strikeouts, too, but it's not like he's much better than the 6-3 record he's posting for the crappy Dodgers.
So when it comes time to meet up for the All Star Game in the desert this July, we need to be voting with something other than East Coast bias for the perennial favorites. It's time to reward some obscure excellence and some youthful greatness. This isn't about seeing the same old dinosaurs and extoling their former virtues. This is about raising a game from the aging nature of its stars that have long since gone away.
For that is the future of the game.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Prince Fielder
There's this whole thing with Tony Larussa and his longevity as a manager of the Cardinals (and the A's and the White Sox) that just makes me want to say... I hate that guy.
From Friday night, his 5,000th career game, to Sunday, Larussa did nothing to lead the Cardinals to victory. Instead, he led the Brewers to first place, and the NL Central is now wide open for a long hot summer of who wants the pennant most (or who wants to crap the bed the least).
Maybe this can be contributed to Albert Pujols not setting the stars in the sky with 3 home run games, but part of it is also the fact that Chris Carpenter can't buy a win and Jake Westrbook's ERA isn't pretty at all. Maybe we can say that the Brewers want it more. Who knows, but if you ask me, I choose to blame it on the Cardinals not choosing to jettison Larussa into the jungles of South America in the hope that he can find some new animal friends and not find his way back to the state of Missouri ever again. But alas, that's just me.
Maybe it's the fact that Prince Fielder was 3/7 in the series with 2 home runs and 4 walks. He's definitely doing his best to sell potential for free agency with a .305 batting average and 19 home runs and 58 RBIs for the Brew Crew, who won't be trying to afford him unless he brings them to some kind of wayback machine repeat of the 1982 team (is he really Cecil Cooper to Ryan Braun's Robin Yount?).
And there is hope in the land of cheese, Laverne & Shirley, beer, and the Packers, but it's a long season and Zach Greinke and Shaun Marcum will have to work well with Yovani Gallardo if there is to be hope in Wisconsin. Perhaps if Rickie Weeks doesn't strike out so much...
But for Fielder, there is the fact that his father hit 50 home runs in a season (despite those 182 Ks that went with that brilliant 1990 offensive explosioin), and he was always the heir apparent, and for good cause. His dad smacked 300 home runs at a time that it still meant something. Now, it's just chump change since all the kids are doing it, but Prince's girth has propelled him to do some nice things with the ball (211 from 2005 to now, which includes 50 in 2007).
However, we can't see the later numbers translating that big at the bank - though someone will pay, especially if they lose out on the Albert Pujols sweepstakes.
For Prince, it's all about what the Brewers do against the Cardinals. Sure, they've gone on to October baseball, but they've gone nowhere with it. If they can this year... and if he can avenge not getting Ryan Braun bank, he can take his signing arm and make it all right.
And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's about anyway?
From Friday night, his 5,000th career game, to Sunday, Larussa did nothing to lead the Cardinals to victory. Instead, he led the Brewers to first place, and the NL Central is now wide open for a long hot summer of who wants the pennant most (or who wants to crap the bed the least).
Maybe this can be contributed to Albert Pujols not setting the stars in the sky with 3 home run games, but part of it is also the fact that Chris Carpenter can't buy a win and Jake Westrbook's ERA isn't pretty at all. Maybe we can say that the Brewers want it more. Who knows, but if you ask me, I choose to blame it on the Cardinals not choosing to jettison Larussa into the jungles of South America in the hope that he can find some new animal friends and not find his way back to the state of Missouri ever again. But alas, that's just me.
Maybe it's the fact that Prince Fielder was 3/7 in the series with 2 home runs and 4 walks. He's definitely doing his best to sell potential for free agency with a .305 batting average and 19 home runs and 58 RBIs for the Brew Crew, who won't be trying to afford him unless he brings them to some kind of wayback machine repeat of the 1982 team (is he really Cecil Cooper to Ryan Braun's Robin Yount?).
And there is hope in the land of cheese, Laverne & Shirley, beer, and the Packers, but it's a long season and Zach Greinke and Shaun Marcum will have to work well with Yovani Gallardo if there is to be hope in Wisconsin. Perhaps if Rickie Weeks doesn't strike out so much...
But for Fielder, there is the fact that his father hit 50 home runs in a season (despite those 182 Ks that went with that brilliant 1990 offensive explosioin), and he was always the heir apparent, and for good cause. His dad smacked 300 home runs at a time that it still meant something. Now, it's just chump change since all the kids are doing it, but Prince's girth has propelled him to do some nice things with the ball (211 from 2005 to now, which includes 50 in 2007).
However, we can't see the later numbers translating that big at the bank - though someone will pay, especially if they lose out on the Albert Pujols sweepstakes.
For Prince, it's all about what the Brewers do against the Cardinals. Sure, they've gone on to October baseball, but they've gone nowhere with it. If they can this year... and if he can avenge not getting Ryan Braun bank, he can take his signing arm and make it all right.
And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's about anyway?
Monday, June 6, 2011
Carlos Zambrano
In the continuing story of Goofus and Gallant, Carlos Zambrano (aka Goofus the big thug / slug of the Cubs) continues to mouth off about his team's effort to help him win, and we just nod appropriately because this is Carlos being Carlos (aka the meds aren't working). But perhaps, this is the story of Gallant Albert Pujols finally getting it together with a pair of walk off home runs over the past 2 days.
Then again, perhaps this is the tale of Zambrano being on his last pitching leg. If there was no upside (a better than average pitcher on a less than average team for the past 103 years that is still owed WAY TOO MUCH money), then Zambrano would be gone. If he mouthed off more or got in a fight with someone who had more of an upside, it would have meant something, but alas... Carlos Marmol is not the man (despite his high percentage of strikeouts a year ago). Neither was Derek Lee or Michael Barrett or walls or bats or Gatorade coolers or the voices in his head. This time, it was an ESPN column filler that went something like this:
But he doesn't, and he runs his mouth, and we all say... the contract will be over soon. The Cubs will still be losing, and yeah... perhaps they can do what the Onion felt that they Yankees should do and buy every great player in baseball and let Mark Cuban run the show (even with Dallas down 2-1 against the Lebron / Wades (who knew that Jay Z could have them both instead of just Wade), he's still an owner that will do what it takes "colorfully" to win).
But if this is Albert Pujols, who is and will always be the man, no matter what he is batting (.278 at this point with 13 home runs and 38 RBIs), then so be it. Let the season turn around. Let good things happen. In the past 4 games, he is 8 for 16. He has 9 runs, 7 RBIs, 4 home runs, and a double to go with his stolen base. He is a man on fire, and he's getting pumped up to take over for an injured Matt Holliday and a deflating back to Earth Lance Berkman. He is the heart and soul of the Cardinals and he's watched the pitching staff prop the team up long enough. He's playing to win.
The way any Gallant player should.
Zambrano should take note - or go the way of the dodo bird.
Either option would work nicely at this time.
Then again, perhaps this is the tale of Zambrano being on his last pitching leg. If there was no upside (a better than average pitcher on a less than average team for the past 103 years that is still owed WAY TOO MUCH money), then Zambrano would be gone. If he mouthed off more or got in a fight with someone who had more of an upside, it would have meant something, but alas... Carlos Marmol is not the man (despite his high percentage of strikeouts a year ago). Neither was Derek Lee or Michael Barrett or walls or bats or Gatorade coolers or the voices in his head. This time, it was an ESPN column filler that went something like this:
We are playing like a Triple-A team. This is embarrassing. Embarrassing for the team and the owners. Embarrassing for the fans. Embarrassing, that's the word for this team.
And it's Big Z, and he really sucks as a teammate, and personally, it doesn't matter if he only let up a handful of hits and a run. Sometimes, the tough luck losses come, and we accept them. So it goes.But he doesn't, and he runs his mouth, and we all say... the contract will be over soon. The Cubs will still be losing, and yeah... perhaps they can do what the Onion felt that they Yankees should do and buy every great player in baseball and let Mark Cuban run the show (even with Dallas down 2-1 against the Lebron / Wades (who knew that Jay Z could have them both instead of just Wade), he's still an owner that will do what it takes "colorfully" to win).
But if this is Albert Pujols, who is and will always be the man, no matter what he is batting (.278 at this point with 13 home runs and 38 RBIs), then so be it. Let the season turn around. Let good things happen. In the past 4 games, he is 8 for 16. He has 9 runs, 7 RBIs, 4 home runs, and a double to go with his stolen base. He is a man on fire, and he's getting pumped up to take over for an injured Matt Holliday and a deflating back to Earth Lance Berkman. He is the heart and soul of the Cardinals and he's watched the pitching staff prop the team up long enough. He's playing to win.
The way any Gallant player should.
Zambrano should take note - or go the way of the dodo bird.
Either option would work nicely at this time.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Carlos Quentin
By this point in the season, Albert Pujols should be flirting with .400 - not sitting below .300 with a gap (.033) between the magic mark and where he's at. He shouldn't be breaking a 100+ (105 at bats and 119 plate appearance) at bat streak without a home run. Is it really the year of the pitcher, or are we ushering in a new crop of offense?
Matt Joyce is currently leading the major leagues in batting average with a .367 mark. If I wouldn't be looking at him in his Rays uniform, I would have no idea who he was, but he seems to be part of the new Tampa Bay outlook and his 8 home runs attests that he's not all singles either.
This is not diminishing Jose Bautista, who is still hitting at a .340 clip with 19 home runs (guess I was really wrong on not believing in his salary bonus), but other than that, there are people with about 10-12 home runs, and they're the usual suspects, but there aren't many big time boppers - save Curtis Granderson and his 16 jacks (and 45 strikeouts in 178 at bats).
Matt Holliday has also been solid with his .349 average and 6 home runs, but for the most part, the bats have been silent this year. Big boppers like Adam Dunn who came to new teams with hope for power are striking out a lot more (60) than they are connecting (5). Mad Mark Reynolds is drifting into worse obscurity (.191) as he racks up his usual misses (49) and falls short on his connections (5). It's an ugly affair really.
So when Carlos Quentin hooks me up fantasy style with 3 jacks and 5 RBIs for my 2nd place fantasy team (the Ephrata Green Dragons), I have to give props (that said, I like the acquisition of Jair Jurrjens as well since he's always been good for me and last night, his 4 Ks and 7.2 scoreless innings brought a much needed win to my team, which has been decimated by injuries to Joe Mauer and Josh Hamilton).
Now that Quentin opened up, he's tied for 3rd place with Ryan Braun, Mark Teixera, and Jay Bruce. Yeah... that Jay Bruce, but that's fantasy points as well, so we can live with that. Looking at the home run leaders... you really wouldn't guess many of them. The same could be said for the free swinging strikeout leaders.
And as I heard it said the other day, it's not 1.12 in 1968, but it's a step away from the steroids era home run boppers of years past.
Matt Joyce is currently leading the major leagues in batting average with a .367 mark. If I wouldn't be looking at him in his Rays uniform, I would have no idea who he was, but he seems to be part of the new Tampa Bay outlook and his 8 home runs attests that he's not all singles either.
This is not diminishing Jose Bautista, who is still hitting at a .340 clip with 19 home runs (guess I was really wrong on not believing in his salary bonus), but other than that, there are people with about 10-12 home runs, and they're the usual suspects, but there aren't many big time boppers - save Curtis Granderson and his 16 jacks (and 45 strikeouts in 178 at bats).
Matt Holliday has also been solid with his .349 average and 6 home runs, but for the most part, the bats have been silent this year. Big boppers like Adam Dunn who came to new teams with hope for power are striking out a lot more (60) than they are connecting (5). Mad Mark Reynolds is drifting into worse obscurity (.191) as he racks up his usual misses (49) and falls short on his connections (5). It's an ugly affair really.
So when Carlos Quentin hooks me up fantasy style with 3 jacks and 5 RBIs for my 2nd place fantasy team (the Ephrata Green Dragons), I have to give props (that said, I like the acquisition of Jair Jurrjens as well since he's always been good for me and last night, his 4 Ks and 7.2 scoreless innings brought a much needed win to my team, which has been decimated by injuries to Joe Mauer and Josh Hamilton).
Now that Quentin opened up, he's tied for 3rd place with Ryan Braun, Mark Teixera, and Jay Bruce. Yeah... that Jay Bruce, but that's fantasy points as well, so we can live with that. Looking at the home run leaders... you really wouldn't guess many of them. The same could be said for the free swinging strikeout leaders.
And as I heard it said the other day, it's not 1.12 in 1968, but it's a step away from the steroids era home run boppers of years past.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Dave Duncan
St. Louis has always been a great baseball town. Many great players have made it in the city by the Gateway Arch, and many others have resurrected their careers playing in front of the friendliest fans in the baseball universe. From their first World Series win / appearance in 1926 where they beat the New York Yankees, it was on. Now, they have 10 best of baseball awards and 7 more World Series appearance where they came up short.
They've won as recently as 2006, with a team that pretty much couldn't win the division until it inevitably happened (they finished with 17 losses for September - which included a stretch from the 18th to the 29th where they won twice - shades of Philadelphia in 64 and Boston in 78, anyone?). However, with a team that wasn't that great they put it all together. Sure, Albert Pujols was there. Yadier Molina was too, but mostly it was "scrappy" (i.e. short, but tough) David Eckstein (who won the World Series MVP because someone had to), Adam Wainwright in rookie mode, Chris Carpenter, a discontented Scott Rolen, and some guys like So Taguchi, Juan Encarnacion, and Preston Wilson (role players who would soon be cast off). In ending the Tigers absolutely worst to first run in that year of baseball, they made the midwest proud, and life was good again, but since then, they've been squeezed out in much the same way that the Mets were that year when Endy Chavez made the catch only to lose it to 2 things - Yadier Molina hitting a 2-run just enough shot (shades of Ozzie Smith, anyone?) and Carlos Beltran stared at a pitch from Wainwright.
In the end, St. Louis was victorious in the NL and MLB - if not for ability for the fact that Kenny Rogers doctored the ball with a foreign substance and the universe went against the Tigers.
Perhaps it made up for a loss to Boston in 2004 when they went out 4 games to none after the GREATEST COMEBACK IN SPORTS HISTORY. That year was Pujols, a horrible swinging Jim Edmonds (worst swing in baseball history, but damn... that glove was beautiful), and a resurrected Larry Walker brought over from Colorado with tremendous fanfare for the days past (shades of Roger Maris, anyone?).
And maybe this year is another version of 2006. The pitching staff doesn't feature Bob Gibson or anyone like him, but damn... Kyle Lohse, Jaime Garcia, and Kyle McClellan don't want you to tell them that. Carpenter definitely isn't himself. Wainwright isn't even with the campaign, and still, the team is in 1st again. You've gotta love Dave Duncan. He takes a pitcher, makes him the best that he can possibly be, and the Cardinals fans just love them and make them 100 times better than they could be on any other team.
Look at what they did to Lance Berkman! That guy was written off, and now... he's dominating. Look at Matt Holliday! He's more productive than the best player in baseball (Pujols) - at least for now. They're making Stan Musial proud. They're living up to the legacy of love that McGwire brought out of the fans in those glory years (I still remember what it was really like - not what the asshole commentators and baseball revisionists want you to think of it).
St. Louis was and is a great baseball town.
Unless the Reds bring their A-game and their hatred and their imaginary feuds and player posturing, the Cards will be playing in October (and let's just say that we don't believe in Cueto, Volquez, or any other pitcher on the Reds).
They've won as recently as 2006, with a team that pretty much couldn't win the division until it inevitably happened (they finished with 17 losses for September - which included a stretch from the 18th to the 29th where they won twice - shades of Philadelphia in 64 and Boston in 78, anyone?). However, with a team that wasn't that great they put it all together. Sure, Albert Pujols was there. Yadier Molina was too, but mostly it was "scrappy" (i.e. short, but tough) David Eckstein (who won the World Series MVP because someone had to), Adam Wainwright in rookie mode, Chris Carpenter, a discontented Scott Rolen, and some guys like So Taguchi, Juan Encarnacion, and Preston Wilson (role players who would soon be cast off). In ending the Tigers absolutely worst to first run in that year of baseball, they made the midwest proud, and life was good again, but since then, they've been squeezed out in much the same way that the Mets were that year when Endy Chavez made the catch only to lose it to 2 things - Yadier Molina hitting a 2-run just enough shot (shades of Ozzie Smith, anyone?) and Carlos Beltran stared at a pitch from Wainwright.
In the end, St. Louis was victorious in the NL and MLB - if not for ability for the fact that Kenny Rogers doctored the ball with a foreign substance and the universe went against the Tigers.
Perhaps it made up for a loss to Boston in 2004 when they went out 4 games to none after the GREATEST COMEBACK IN SPORTS HISTORY. That year was Pujols, a horrible swinging Jim Edmonds (worst swing in baseball history, but damn... that glove was beautiful), and a resurrected Larry Walker brought over from Colorado with tremendous fanfare for the days past (shades of Roger Maris, anyone?).
And maybe this year is another version of 2006. The pitching staff doesn't feature Bob Gibson or anyone like him, but damn... Kyle Lohse, Jaime Garcia, and Kyle McClellan don't want you to tell them that. Carpenter definitely isn't himself. Wainwright isn't even with the campaign, and still, the team is in 1st again. You've gotta love Dave Duncan. He takes a pitcher, makes him the best that he can possibly be, and the Cardinals fans just love them and make them 100 times better than they could be on any other team.
Look at what they did to Lance Berkman! That guy was written off, and now... he's dominating. Look at Matt Holliday! He's more productive than the best player in baseball (Pujols) - at least for now. They're making Stan Musial proud. They're living up to the legacy of love that McGwire brought out of the fans in those glory years (I still remember what it was really like - not what the asshole commentators and baseball revisionists want you to think of it).
St. Louis was and is a great baseball town.
Unless the Reds bring their A-game and their hatred and their imaginary feuds and player posturing, the Cards will be playing in October (and let's just say that we don't believe in Cueto, Volquez, or any other pitcher on the Reds).
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Adrian Gonzalez
The good news is that all is right with the USS Pujols... 2 home runs in a Dodger crushing celebration last night means that the universe - at least the one that exists in the NL East and hits .300, 30, 100, and 100 is back on pace. He may only be up to .241 with 10 RBIs and 4 jacks, but he's hot again, and for that, life is good.
Ichiro was off to a little bit of a slump, but 2 more hits puts him at .276. Once again, life is good, and all is right with the highest paid (and most effective) singles machine in the history of baseball (though Pete Rose and Ty Cobb probably have something to say about that).
And while Baltimore losing is par for the course, Boston dropping to 2-10 with a loss against the Blue Jays is a crime against humanity.
So let's try to figure this out.
Carl Crawford's 0 for 5 drops him to .135. He's making $142 million over 7 years.
Jacoby Ellsbury's 1 for 4 raises him to .195. Coming back from injury, he was a question mark, but still... he's better than this. After all, he's batting .288 for a career.
Marco Scutaro goes 1 for 3 to raise his batting average to .188. Sure, he was the subject of a movie called Player to Be Named Later, and he did once hit a 3-run game winning home run against Mariano Rivera proving that the sun can shine on a sleeping dog's ass, but still... and he's making $11 million over 2 years AND HE SUCKS.
And Jarrod Saltalamacchia, the catching option that was supposed to be the good one since the other option, Jason Varitek, is headed for AARP, is hitting .154 this year. He hit .167 in 2 less at bats of an injured season last year, but Theo the wonder child and Francona the puppet boy thought that they could make something of the lad... but it didn't work. Sure, he's a bargain basement $750,000, but still... you think that he could at least make the Mendoza Line. Save 1 good 2 for 4 game against the Yankees, and this guy is outright ejected from the pros.
And just like we talked about rewarding pitchers who do nothing in Boston, now, the 0 for 4 night for Adrian Gonzalez (dropping him to .244 with 1 home run and 7RBIs) gets him $154 million over 7 years.
The message of rewarding greatness is understood, but if it's not happening this year, what does it really mean? Are we just trying to be the biggest payroll ever to miss the playoffs? Does it mean that Baltimore and the Blue Jays can quake at who finishes in third in AL East as the Red Sox look to move on without JD Drew and his 5 years $70 million after this year?
The free spending and day dreaming hopes of the Wonder Twins ensures that just as Zan and Jayna were the dumbest cartoon superheros ever, Terry and Theo are the most useless front office pair to ever steer a baseball ship. I know I said that I want my team to slump as low as they possibly can if it gets them fired, but I don't know how much more I can take of this disaster of a season. We're now officially 2 games behind Houston and Seattle who were both dead in the water before the season started. We're 7 games behind 2nd place Kansas City who was also marked for death. Even Pittsburgh who hasn't had a winning season since 1991 is 4 games better than us and their best players are looking for July trades as opposed to playoff dreams in western Pennsylvania.
What does it say? Worst baseball summer in Boston since 1960's 65 and 89? Even the futility of World War 2's player depletion in 1945 hasn't looked this bad - especially with a payroll of $160million.
Ichiro was off to a little bit of a slump, but 2 more hits puts him at .276. Once again, life is good, and all is right with the highest paid (and most effective) singles machine in the history of baseball (though Pete Rose and Ty Cobb probably have something to say about that).
And while Baltimore losing is par for the course, Boston dropping to 2-10 with a loss against the Blue Jays is a crime against humanity.
So let's try to figure this out.
Carl Crawford's 0 for 5 drops him to .135. He's making $142 million over 7 years.
Jacoby Ellsbury's 1 for 4 raises him to .195. Coming back from injury, he was a question mark, but still... he's better than this. After all, he's batting .288 for a career.
Marco Scutaro goes 1 for 3 to raise his batting average to .188. Sure, he was the subject of a movie called Player to Be Named Later, and he did once hit a 3-run game winning home run against Mariano Rivera proving that the sun can shine on a sleeping dog's ass, but still... and he's making $11 million over 2 years AND HE SUCKS.
And Jarrod Saltalamacchia, the catching option that was supposed to be the good one since the other option, Jason Varitek, is headed for AARP, is hitting .154 this year. He hit .167 in 2 less at bats of an injured season last year, but Theo the wonder child and Francona the puppet boy thought that they could make something of the lad... but it didn't work. Sure, he's a bargain basement $750,000, but still... you think that he could at least make the Mendoza Line. Save 1 good 2 for 4 game against the Yankees, and this guy is outright ejected from the pros.
And just like we talked about rewarding pitchers who do nothing in Boston, now, the 0 for 4 night for Adrian Gonzalez (dropping him to .244 with 1 home run and 7RBIs) gets him $154 million over 7 years.
The message of rewarding greatness is understood, but if it's not happening this year, what does it really mean? Are we just trying to be the biggest payroll ever to miss the playoffs? Does it mean that Baltimore and the Blue Jays can quake at who finishes in third in AL East as the Red Sox look to move on without JD Drew and his 5 years $70 million after this year?The free spending and day dreaming hopes of the Wonder Twins ensures that just as Zan and Jayna were the dumbest cartoon superheros ever, Terry and Theo are the most useless front office pair to ever steer a baseball ship. I know I said that I want my team to slump as low as they possibly can if it gets them fired, but I don't know how much more I can take of this disaster of a season. We're now officially 2 games behind Houston and Seattle who were both dead in the water before the season started. We're 7 games behind 2nd place Kansas City who was also marked for death. Even Pittsburgh who hasn't had a winning season since 1991 is 4 games better than us and their best players are looking for July trades as opposed to playoff dreams in western Pennsylvania.
What does it say? Worst baseball summer in Boston since 1960's 65 and 89? Even the futility of World War 2's player depletion in 1945 hasn't looked this bad - especially with a payroll of $160million.
Monday, April 4, 2011
John McGraw
Terry Francona has sounded off regarding his team's poor start - it's Carl Crawford's fault (despite batting .182 in only his first 3 games with Boston, which does at least include 1 RBI) - move him to 7th in the lineup. Brilliant decision we might add. I'm sure it has NOTHING to do with why Boston's pitching sucks - as Pappelbon comes in and lets up a run without the game on the line, which isn't any better or worse than Lester, Lackey, or Bucholz's outings at the Ballpark in Arlington against a team that will be more offensive than a weekend outing with Charlie Sheen, but alas... that's just me. Then again, Wacky Lackey's start really sucked. He was worse than Crapplebon. 
And so I sit here and wonder why both of my favorite teams have such cruddy managers. Tony Larussa has the Cardinals 1-2 with not much life in them against the Padres (more injuries and Albert Pujols batting .154 with no home runs - at least he doesn't have his fingers on the batting order pen, but who knows... this is a guy who used to bat his pitchers eighth). But yeah... these are some lame and cruddy dinosaurs of managers who need to go. And when I say cruddy, I mean, I want the Ancient Aliens to come back and abduct them - if for nothing better than to get more likable new managers or so Giorgio Tsoukalos and his hair can have something to say about being right about the Ancient (and modern) Aliens truly existing. Well, that and so that they can see if there has been any change in their legendary cruddiness (because these are - "legendary CRUDDY times"). But yes... management... it all comes down to management, and what makes a good manager? What makes a bad manager? John McGraw was a talented, but angry manager who managed to win 10 pennants and 3 World Series champions with the Orioles and New York Giants in the early part of the century. For a career, he won 2763 games over 33 years and he played for a good deal of that time too, getting just over 1300 hits in limited appearances due to being a player manager. He was ejected 13 times in 1905 and 131 for his career - the most until Bobby Cox came along. That's saying something. He campaigned silently for African American integration, compiling a list of players he would have recruited if times were different. While he did nothing actively, he still knew the system was wrong, and if for nothing else other than knowing the difference between wrong and right, that says something. 
But alas, today we need focus on the other McGraw - Moffet, my mom's cousin (third from the left) and the current Women's Basketball coach at Notre Dame who just kicked Connecticut's butts last night. After taking out Tennessee last week for her first win ever, Notre Dame took out Connecticut for their 2nd loss in 3 years. That's it. Prior to this, the Huskies were 3-0 against Notre Dame this season - but not when it counted, and with this, Notre Dame gets a trip to the finals against the other final 4 underdog - Texas A+M. We wish her the best and hope that she brings herself - and the extended family - a second national title and makes Touchdown Jesus smile a little, too. Girls can play... and sometimes, they can step up and kick some serious ass.
And so I sit here and wonder why both of my favorite teams have such cruddy managers. Tony Larussa has the Cardinals 1-2 with not much life in them against the Padres (more injuries and Albert Pujols batting .154 with no home runs - at least he doesn't have his fingers on the batting order pen, but who knows... this is a guy who used to bat his pitchers eighth). But yeah... these are some lame and cruddy dinosaurs of managers who need to go. And when I say cruddy, I mean, I want the Ancient Aliens to come back and abduct them - if for nothing better than to get more likable new managers or so Giorgio Tsoukalos and his hair can have something to say about being right about the Ancient (and modern) Aliens truly existing. Well, that and so that they can see if there has been any change in their legendary cruddiness (because these are - "legendary CRUDDY times"). But yes... management... it all comes down to management, and what makes a good manager? What makes a bad manager? John McGraw was a talented, but angry manager who managed to win 10 pennants and 3 World Series champions with the Orioles and New York Giants in the early part of the century. For a career, he won 2763 games over 33 years and he played for a good deal of that time too, getting just over 1300 hits in limited appearances due to being a player manager. He was ejected 13 times in 1905 and 131 for his career - the most until Bobby Cox came along. That's saying something. He campaigned silently for African American integration, compiling a list of players he would have recruited if times were different. While he did nothing actively, he still knew the system was wrong, and if for nothing else other than knowing the difference between wrong and right, that says something. 
But alas, today we need focus on the other McGraw - Moffet, my mom's cousin (third from the left) and the current Women's Basketball coach at Notre Dame who just kicked Connecticut's butts last night. After taking out Tennessee last week for her first win ever, Notre Dame took out Connecticut for their 2nd loss in 3 years. That's it. Prior to this, the Huskies were 3-0 against Notre Dame this season - but not when it counted, and with this, Notre Dame gets a trip to the finals against the other final 4 underdog - Texas A+M. We wish her the best and hope that she brings herself - and the extended family - a second national title and makes Touchdown Jesus smile a little, too. Girls can play... and sometimes, they can step up and kick some serious ass.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Ramon Hernandez
So what's the story of the first day of the MLB season? Is it the fact that Mark Reynolds hasn't whiffed yet? Maybe that's only because he hasn't come to the plate yet. When he does, the bird on his shirt won't change the luck he had with the snake in the desert. He'll have his 215 whiffs and Camden yards will be crying over giving any money to him because no amount of home runs can justify just how bad that low batting average and high amount of strikeouts truly is. So with that being said, is it Jason Heyward connecting on a long fly ball souvenier for his first at bat the second year running? Is it Mariano Rivera converting a save to preserve a Texeria and Granderson home run in a victory over the Tigers? Is it Albert Pujols going 0-5 with 3 GIDdynotuPs that pretty much caused St. Louis to not win (take away all talk of that $300million contract immediately!)? And no, it's not April Fools Day - even if it is April 1, 2011. Or is it a pair of home runs in the first 2 at bats of the season by Rickie Weeks and Carlos Gomez that were effectively released by a Brewers bullpen melt down in the 9th that saw Ramon Hernandez, a 12 year vet with a lot of part time seasons that never really excelled, but that sure was awesome when it needed to be... 9th inning... 2 on, 2 down, and a hot bat that can swat a long fly ball to keep steroids rehab poster boy Edinson Volquez from getting stapled to a loss in his first game in over a year. And isn't that how a year should start out... so much hope. In the words of Lou Boudrea... "all future and no past." The sky is the limit on everything as a guy who never hit .300 is now batting .800. And with that magnificent moment for a journeyman player, the Cincinnati Reds are winning one to come back from the hell of 2010's end that saw their promise vanish in a Roy Halladay no hitter to start the playoffs in dramatic fashion. Doctober never recommenced from there, but it was a Don Larsen moment for my generation. Halladay is supposed to take the mound today, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. The ground was covered in snow this morning. It wasn't much, but it wasn't pretty. It made me feel like Ozzie Guillen ranting about going to Cleveland to start the season with those lake breezes and nasty Lake Erie weather, something that I am starting to learn about as we often go to visit my wife's family in Port Clinton, Ohio. And baseball is back and life is good. And I got home to a couple of stacks of early 90s, late 80s baseball card commons. There were a few better players... Curt Schilling comes to mind as do some Jimmy Dean cards with guys like Griffey and Biggio on them. They were a present from my wife, and a nice touch on a day that saw me working on my resume and attending a teaching fair that really didn't have a lot of schools close enough to where I live to bother trying for too many of them. Even with the few that I went to, it was all about budget, not knowing the amount of positions open, and trying to shy away from people with Masters Degrees (me). So alas, there are other job fairs more promising... such as the one the day before regarding the VA hospital patient processing center that is opening near us. Unfortunately, I'm not a situational left handed reliever like I hope my future son will be (if I ever have a future son). I'm just me, for better or for worse. I'm not a free swinging 3rd baseman making way too much money or even a pitcher who arrived in the nick of time to show my stuff. I'm not a contract year mirage. And no matte who any of us are... there is still a possibility that it's going to be a good year for all of us.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Colby Rasmus
I'm really going to do it this year - not like last year when I quit in futility. This will be my fifth year taking part in fantasy leagues, which is as much of a commitment as this website is. It requires patience and dedication to a 162-game schedule. Attention issues aside, a good draft and no injuries will keep the fires stoked until September 28th. It requires serious "research" to do determine who is coming up in the world of rookies, and it requires getting rid of injured players so that statistics aren’t jeopardized. Many people will start, but few will finish. I'm living proof. Having a quick blast of energy at the beginning is essential to having a chance, but it’s not everything.All in all, it’s as much a part of the game as the game itself, but it involves divorcing oneself from loyalties on the field. Where once I wouldn’t draft Yankees due to my hatred of the team, I have had four of them over the years (Rivera, Matsui, Gardner, and Jeter), which means that while I won’t be rooting for them, I’ll take their statistics in the same way that I will take other player’s great games.
This year, I started off with an option to get Robinson Cano, probably the best second baseman in the game, if I got pick 6 as the 6th picker; however, someone else grabbed him first, so I ended up with Roy Halladay and took the 7th pick (a league of 6 people - I didn't want to play with also rans more than I had to this year) of Joey Votto. All in all, I also got Josh Hamilton, Cliff Lee, Joe Mauer, Dan Uggla, Michael Young, and Mike Stanton for a rather solid looking team.
Already, my competition wants Colby Rasmus - for Raul Ibanez of all people. Let's be honest... I may have a couple of Phillies on my team and be from PA, but a rapidly aging mid power outfielder in decline already... nah. Perhaps, he should have offered Jason Heyward, but that's most likely asking way too much.
Granted, Rasmus has an upside... 23 homers and .276 batting average with 12 steals, and 148 whiffs, BUT he hates Tony Larussa, and that says a lot to me. Sure, he wanted off the team last year and Phat Albert thought he should have been jettisoned, but considered that Ryan Ludwick had already left for San Diego (dumb, dumb, dumb), Colby wasn't moving. And if he moves this year, he may have a bounce year in a non-Larussa burg. And if he doesn't, he could get even better than he already is. After all, he's only 2 years in the bigs...
So in the words of Hayden Panettiere, “bring it on. It’s all or nothing.”
Let the fantasy season begin!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Joe Dimaggio
I once stated accurately that I prefer my baseball players dead. Sure, I love that movement that Tim Lincecum puts on his pitches. To go from a hanging arm to whipping a nasty pitch over the plate in a way that deceives the batter into a state of utter stupidity is a fantastic thing to watch. Now, I'm not a fan of the ponytail, and I'm definiteliy not a fan of his bong, but the man is one of the better players in the modern game.
A prime example of what they don't have any more in baseball is a Joe Dimaggio. We could ask where he's gone, but like Paul Simon (who Dimaggio initially wasn't impressed by due to an incorrect perception that "Mrs. Robinson" was an insult), we have no clue. In 1999, he shuffled off this mortal coil and left many fans sad and lost with only their memories to share. Fortunately, there's HBO's Where Have You Gone, Joe Dimaggio to help us remember the Yankee Clipper / #5 / Mr. Coffee as something more than a couple of pages in a best players ever baseball book.
Nevertheless, I prefer the mystique of the eras that I never truly got to see except on documentaries and the images that I see in my head while I daydream about what it must have been like back in the day. That said, I don't imagine life before baseball gloves and catcher's masks, but yeah... tobacco card era baseball and beyond (up until the players that began their careers in the late 70s / early 80s); those were the days.
A prime example of what they don't have any more in baseball is a Joe Dimaggio. We could ask where he's gone, but like Paul Simon (who Dimaggio initially wasn't impressed by due to an incorrect perception that "Mrs. Robinson" was an insult), we have no clue. In 1999, he shuffled off this mortal coil and left many fans sad and lost with only their memories to share. Fortunately, there's HBO's Where Have You Gone, Joe Dimaggio to help us remember the Yankee Clipper / #5 / Mr. Coffee as something more than a couple of pages in a best players ever baseball book.I don't know if it's safe to say that he's that much better than what an Albert Pujols type player is, but there was something about him... a war era player that lost the best years of his career (43-45, 2 years after the 56-game hitting streak - 1 more would have got him some Heinz 57 money) to World War 2.
He lost Marilyn Monroe to the American people and a drug overdose (not to mention the Kennedys), but he kept a vigil to her for the rest of his life with the red rose he placed by her gravesite.
In 13 seasons, he batted .325 with 369 strikeouts TOTAL! In comparison, that's about 2 years of Mark Reynolds' career (not even). To top it off, he hit 361 home runs for his career.
He was so popular in New York, he could make Mickey Mantle feel like a schlub for daring to replace him.
When it came time to go, he didn't seem to know despite the fact that Casey Stengel was trying to make it easy on him. In the end, Life Magainze, Andy High, and Gene Woodling combined to show just how pedestrian that the "Greatest Living Player" had become. Like Lou Gehrig before him, a superstar being shown as being mortal knew that something was wrong. Where Lou Gehrig's finale came with being congratulated for doing the routine, Dimaggio was taken down to size for not being able to run, field, or hit in the way that he did when he electrified the 1941 spring and early summer.
For even with a bat stolen, he didn't complain. Sure, he wanted to bang heads to get it back, but he went right on hitting until it came back.
He tried his hand at TV, but he quit when he wasn't successful. As Ric Flair said, "to be the best, you have to beat the best," and to Joltin' Joe, if he couldn't be the best, he didn't want to play, so he did what he was good at - running restaurants, making appearances, signing bats, and adding his name to a children's hospital.
Sadly, the band who became a Les Brown record will never be seen at a Dinky Donuts again, but he will always be an example of what's right with baseball and the world.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Curt Flood
Everything I need to know about labor and management, I learned from baseball. In my younger days of college, I read Krakauer and Marx and Thoreau and Zinn and a wide variety of books that talked about what a person should be living and working for, and it didn't matter if it was Into the Wild or Wage and Capital, the answer was always so much clearer by reading about how bad baseball screwed the pooch when it came to the strike that killed the World Series in 1994 (far worse than Shoeless Joe Jackson and crew taking money to blow the series). The NHL and the NBA also screwed their pooches in trying to lockout players for extended periods of time.
Inevitably, it's always about more money, and I begrudge nobody the opportunity to get more money, but I will say that if you're asking, you need good persuasive leverage. Albert Pujols has more chance to get $300 million if he doesn't care where he works because not every company (team) can afford to mortgage the future for him (that's why Washington will pony up big and pay him to bring his perfect citizenship score to the nation's capital and that's why teams in the Texas Rangers' league won't be doing another A-Rod signing).
But the history of baseball and the reserve clause and free agency came a long way since the beginning. It came a long way since Curt Flood told Howard Cosell that he was a "well paid slave" while making $90,000 a year. And perhaps he truly felt that he was owned and marginalized by the Cardinals, but in reality, even in the tumultuous late sixties, America didn't want to hear slavery. We were 100 years removed from Appomatox, and frankly, nobody alive was still putting people to work in the fields. Sure, there was the civil rights movement that had just taken place and we as a country had realized that we weren't quite so kind to African Americans with Jim Crow, but many opinions (though not all then or ever) were changing and we were learning our lessons and growing. We didn't want to be reminded of those days, and for good reasons - it wasn't like we were the slave owners or the framers who let the Constitution be written with slavery as a system that was accepted by the institution that was to be America.
And even if Curt Flood never succeeded and basically destroyed himself in alienation, prostitutes, and alcohol, at home and abroad, he was trying to do what was right and to eliminate the reserve clause with a little help from his friends (Marvin Miller). He led the way to others who had more clout. In that, there was Catfish Hunter and Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally who made it all happen, and now there are 9 players who have or will have made $20million in a year (if they play this season). There are 8 players who have signed contracts for more than $150million for their duration (one twice - A-Rod). And perhaps, that's what it means to be a talented sports star risking health to perform for the crowds.
But that doesn't mean that it resonates with the masses.
So when the NFL decides to lock out its players in the wake of labor issues, we have to take note. When the NFL Player's Association tells young players who are about to be drafted to stay home and give up the night of fame at the start of their show, we raise our ears to hear what is about to be said.
And what do we hear:
It's modern-day slavery, you know? People kind of laugh at that, but there are people working at regular jobs who get treated the same way, too. With all the money … the owners are trying to get a different percentage, and bring in more money. I understand that; these are business-minded people. Of course this is what they are going to want to do. I understand that; it's how they got to where they are now. But as players, we have to stand our ground and say, 'Hey -- without us, there's no football.' There are so many different perspectives from different players, and obviously we're not all on the same page -- I don't know. I don't really see this going to where we'll be without football for a long time; there's too much money lost for the owners. Eventually, I feel that we'll get something done.
And once again... nobody wants to hear the S word. Nobody wants to hear a sports star bitch and moan - no matter what point he makes.
And both sides lose because they aren't close to playing ball with one another to play ball. We don't want the labor arguments - not when we're giving up cash for every government initiative down the pike. Not when we're losing salary due to budget cuts. Not when Japanese people are scared to death that the radiation will give them cancer or kill them outright.
So really, shut the hell up Adrian.
Come take my writing class, and I'll teach you how to truly persuade people.
Inevitably, it's always about more money, and I begrudge nobody the opportunity to get more money, but I will say that if you're asking, you need good persuasive leverage. Albert Pujols has more chance to get $300 million if he doesn't care where he works because not every company (team) can afford to mortgage the future for him (that's why Washington will pony up big and pay him to bring his perfect citizenship score to the nation's capital and that's why teams in the Texas Rangers' league won't be doing another A-Rod signing).
But the history of baseball and the reserve clause and free agency came a long way since the beginning. It came a long way since Curt Flood told Howard Cosell that he was a "well paid slave" while making $90,000 a year. And perhaps he truly felt that he was owned and marginalized by the Cardinals, but in reality, even in the tumultuous late sixties, America didn't want to hear slavery. We were 100 years removed from Appomatox, and frankly, nobody alive was still putting people to work in the fields. Sure, there was the civil rights movement that had just taken place and we as a country had realized that we weren't quite so kind to African Americans with Jim Crow, but many opinions (though not all then or ever) were changing and we were learning our lessons and growing. We didn't want to be reminded of those days, and for good reasons - it wasn't like we were the slave owners or the framers who let the Constitution be written with slavery as a system that was accepted by the institution that was to be America.
And even if Curt Flood never succeeded and basically destroyed himself in alienation, prostitutes, and alcohol, at home and abroad, he was trying to do what was right and to eliminate the reserve clause with a little help from his friends (Marvin Miller). He led the way to others who had more clout. In that, there was Catfish Hunter and Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally who made it all happen, and now there are 9 players who have or will have made $20million in a year (if they play this season). There are 8 players who have signed contracts for more than $150million for their duration (one twice - A-Rod). And perhaps, that's what it means to be a talented sports star risking health to perform for the crowds.
But that doesn't mean that it resonates with the masses.
So when the NFL decides to lock out its players in the wake of labor issues, we have to take note. When the NFL Player's Association tells young players who are about to be drafted to stay home and give up the night of fame at the start of their show, we raise our ears to hear what is about to be said.
And what do we hear:
It's modern-day slavery, you know? People kind of laugh at that, but there are people working at regular jobs who get treated the same way, too. With all the money … the owners are trying to get a different percentage, and bring in more money. I understand that; these are business-minded people. Of course this is what they are going to want to do. I understand that; it's how they got to where they are now. But as players, we have to stand our ground and say, 'Hey -- without us, there's no football.' There are so many different perspectives from different players, and obviously we're not all on the same page -- I don't know. I don't really see this going to where we'll be without football for a long time; there's too much money lost for the owners. Eventually, I feel that we'll get something done.
And once again... nobody wants to hear the S word. Nobody wants to hear a sports star bitch and moan - no matter what point he makes.
And both sides lose because they aren't close to playing ball with one another to play ball. We don't want the labor arguments - not when we're giving up cash for every government initiative down the pike. Not when we're losing salary due to budget cuts. Not when Japanese people are scared to death that the radiation will give them cancer or kill them outright.
So really, shut the hell up Adrian.
Come take my writing class, and I'll teach you how to truly persuade people.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Hideki Matsui
In a meaningless spring training game on Saturday, Chipper Jones, a sort of star, hit his first home run of what will probably be his last year.
This morning, a second quake rocked Japan. This one wasn't as strong as the 8.9 magnitude first one that struck on Friday and sent tsunami waves to the West Coast of America, literally ruining one entire California harbor. In the turmoil of the 4th worst earthquake in the last 150 years, a second Hydrogen explosion at a nuclear reactor leaves the world north of Tokyo in a state that could be hellaciously dangerous in a very short time - if that time isn't now.
At times like this, sports don't matter. What matters is what people do to rise up for their fellow men and women.
In this, former Japanese baseball great Hideki Matsui, who now plays for the Oakland A's (after a stint with the Angels and a stint with the Yankees) is stepping up with his team as they offer to do a fund raiser for the victims of the earthquake when they face the Seattle Mariners who feature the greatest Japanese player in history this side of Sadahura Oh. Yes, Ichiro vs. Godzilla will be a game that means something for the world instead of American League West also rans, and isn't that what baseball is supposed to be about?
We are bringing good things to people and entertaining society to make us forget about our woes in times of trouble. Whether that's Albert cracking home runs for Down's syndrome or pink bats for breast cancer or George Bush taking Derek Jeter's advice to throw a strike as the players all wear FDNY and NYPD hats after 911. We've always been there when society calls to us, and that's the way it should be.
So we'll get the perfection of singles and speed with Ichiro, a player that had it drilled into him from a very young age that to be the best, one had to give all. We see this with rescue workers who use chainsaws and pick axes to reach bodies of survivors and the dead.
We'll get a class act who apologized to his boss for getting injured after playing in 1,000 games straight. And the life philosophy of Matsui is what the Japanese will do as they rebuild their country all over again. Just like in the devastation of World War 2, their world will come back together and will be stronger and a force for the world as a whole.
And through it all, we will come together and we'll get back to baseball being the good things in life - not the bad things in life bringing us together to look after our fellow man, which when you think about it really is the best thing in life.
This morning, a second quake rocked Japan. This one wasn't as strong as the 8.9 magnitude first one that struck on Friday and sent tsunami waves to the West Coast of America, literally ruining one entire California harbor. In the turmoil of the 4th worst earthquake in the last 150 years, a second Hydrogen explosion at a nuclear reactor leaves the world north of Tokyo in a state that could be hellaciously dangerous in a very short time - if that time isn't now.
At times like this, sports don't matter. What matters is what people do to rise up for their fellow men and women.
In this, former Japanese baseball great Hideki Matsui, who now plays for the Oakland A's (after a stint with the Angels and a stint with the Yankees) is stepping up with his team as they offer to do a fund raiser for the victims of the earthquake when they face the Seattle Mariners who feature the greatest Japanese player in history this side of Sadahura Oh. Yes, Ichiro vs. Godzilla will be a game that means something for the world instead of American League West also rans, and isn't that what baseball is supposed to be about?
We are bringing good things to people and entertaining society to make us forget about our woes in times of trouble. Whether that's Albert cracking home runs for Down's syndrome or pink bats for breast cancer or George Bush taking Derek Jeter's advice to throw a strike as the players all wear FDNY and NYPD hats after 911. We've always been there when society calls to us, and that's the way it should be.
So we'll get the perfection of singles and speed with Ichiro, a player that had it drilled into him from a very young age that to be the best, one had to give all. We see this with rescue workers who use chainsaws and pick axes to reach bodies of survivors and the dead.
We'll get a class act who apologized to his boss for getting injured after playing in 1,000 games straight. And the life philosophy of Matsui is what the Japanese will do as they rebuild their country all over again. Just like in the devastation of World War 2, their world will come back together and will be stronger and a force for the world as a whole.
And through it all, we will come together and we'll get back to baseball being the good things in life - not the bad things in life bringing us together to look after our fellow man, which when you think about it really is the best thing in life.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Mark McGwire
While sitting with my teacher friend Dale, the subject of great baseball players is always bound to come. He’s in his early forties and I’m in my late thirties, so it wouldn’t be wrong to think that we would tend to reflect on the 1970s and 1980s as the glory days of baseball, but for the most part, you would be wrong since the greatest games for us were the ones that we weren’t even alive to see. In no small part, we owe a mega burst of gratitude to Ken Burns for his contributions to the history of baseball because it’s clear to see that Major League Baseball has no respect for the history of its game unless it’s for its fan to buy the latest current slab of what happened this year as a DVD at the end of the season.
If they had any foresight at all, they would instead be focusing on the ability to post lots of historic video of the past online for all generations to see. The fact that any time anything really cool happens, let’s say Jacoby Ellsbury stealing home off of Andy Pettite two years ago, it’s up for a day or so on Youtube and then the backwards thinking bastards that be choose to have it pulled down out of copy right protection concerns. Now, I’m not saying that it has to stay on Youtube, but couldn’t MLB start a pay per view library service so that any time I want to watch something great happen, say watching Albert Pujols jack a Brad Lidge pitch into the wall of Minute Maid Park to keep the Cardinals alive for one more game, I can salivate over the memories of the past?
However, this is impossible, and other than the history of baseball up until 1990, I can’t watch any of the real great players of history focused upon. Thus, to dream about Brooks Robinson throwing deep to first from deep in the corner, I have to go to the third greatest gift that my wife ever gave me, and watch the celluloid footage of that World Series game to see what the heroes of the past were truly like. What will the kids of today have to do in order to watch Dustin Pedroia and Matt Holliday star for the Red Sox and Cardinals? How will these youngsters know why Adrian Gonzalez is or isn’t worth mortgaging the future for in an offseason trade that is supposed to tip the balance of all things?
Simply, they won’t - at least until ESPN or MLBTV say it's so OVER and OVER and OVER again.
And for the same reason that MLB has no concern for its history, we won’t know how “great” the steroids era players were because it’s easy to say that the media was duped into reporting how great they were to make up for the fact that baseball went on strike and killed the World Series in 1994, and their apologies are word enough for the rest of the impressionable youngsters of today to throw away their parents’ baseball card collections, but to still retain hopes in the present - especially that somehow Whiff King Ryan Howard isn’t tainted, and even though Alex Rodriguez is slightly dented, his “apology” and “great play” in the 2009 World Series makes up for everything – unlike Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, and Mark McGwire who will forever wear their scarlet letters for eternity and then some.
However, for those people willing to look back on baseball history, they would see that Major League Baseball did memorialize Race for the Record on VHS, which is still available for $1.99 on E-bay. Nevertheless, I have my copy and have cherished it since the fall of 1998 when it first came out. I don’t make apologies for owning it. Mark McGwire was and still is my favorite player of all time. Steroids or not, the summer of 1998 was a magical moment that made me who I am. For that, it’s as important to a baseball story in 2011 as it was to a baseball story in that magical summer of a dozen years ago.
And while I liked other players from that time period when I was younger and more concerned about this sport than anything around me, I find the moments of that season to be almost (but not quite) as special as the moments of my marriage and courtship, which took place over the last few years. In that, there was a day that I would have went into a winter of depression having seen the Yankees win, but frankly, I didn’t feel more than a slight sting for what had transpired against Philadelphia’s weak pitching staff (sorry Cliff Lee and game 2 Pedro, you tried) and sorry ass strikeout king (sorry Chase Utley, at least you tried unlike your counterpart) because of the perspective that I have for where my life is with my beautiful wife besides me.
And it's great to have Tim Lincecum take down Cliff Lee, but it's not the same as spending vacations and time in general with my wife. Five years ago, that would have been something, but now there is adult and the memories of the great games of youth that still drive me back to the game for a well-placed second place in my life.
So before this gets all soppy, I should get back to baseball, and say that like Dale, I find it hard to find interest in players the same way that I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s being married and redoing a house and contemplating children and the Arizona / Utah border vacation that I want to get back to for some summer week that keeps me from thinking of some of these players in the way that I did when I was younger, but in part, I don’t find them as magical. Their interviews are generic. The plays were done better by other players in the past, and I’m not ready to believe in anyone new, other than Albert Pujols and Ichiro Suzuki in the way that I once believed in Ryne Sandberg, Paul Molitor, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, and David Ortiz. The play of the past few years and the less than believability that is associated with Dominican birth certificates has come to take its toll on me. For that, this blog is an exercise to getting back to the great players of the past and comparing their deeds to those of the current crop of players that seems to be changing incredibly from what it was even five years ago. Will Tim Lincecum and Jon Lester become the next Walter Johnson, Cy Young, Bob Gibson, Sandy Koufax, or Bob Feller? One can only hope.
As the Ramones sang about their own existential void, probably not the one that wonders if Joe Mauer will ever be the next Josh Gibson and which anonymous rookie could be the next Roger Maris, Honus Wagner, Satchell Paige, or Ted Williams, but the wonder about another time where it feels as good as the magical moments of the past, “Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest. Take my hand. Please help me man. 'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in.”
And for that, I leave you with the words from Eureka, Nevada, my unfinished first novel:
"I woke up and walked to the newspaper, looking at the Sunday sports headlines that said that Mark Mcgwire had been thrown out for disputing a called third strike the day before. The fans were irate and with good cause. The call was rotten and just like the media who were doing there best to put a damper on Big Mac’s quest for 62, the umpires weren’t cutting him any slack either.
Mcgwire’s angst was justifiable. He had been forced to endure the what he did, what he didn’t do and the will he break the record as he stood out as the sole highlight on a horrible St. Louis team. All the while, Sammy Sosa was hitting his homeruns, deferring the questions to Mcgwire and watching his Cubs fight for the division title.
I was tired of the drive. I was tired of the wait. I wanted to be in St. Louis, and that was where I was heading at the moment. I packed up and was off, though I found out that it was an evening game rather than a day game, so I would be driving in slower than I thought that I would be.
If only I was a little farther down the road, then life now would make more sense. At that moment it was all just a highway that took me to St. Louis, a game that would change my life, a perfect moment filled with more positive emotional content than an entire yearlong relationship would leave me. I was destined to be in St. Louis that evening, but first I was off to Mark Twain Lake and museum, which was somewhere in the empty middle of Missouri’s rolling forest land. I walked around, admired the sights, and thought of baseball. I was killing time.
A few hours later, I was at the game. I parked the car and ran up towards Busch Stadium and a sea of red shirts and signs.
“Go Mark Go.”
“Make it a great 1998.”
Even before I got to the game, there were signs such as the Billboard above Highway 70 that listed Mcgwire’s homerun total at the moment. St. Louis was alive with Mcgwire at the moment. The Braves, despite their perennial power in the East Divison of the National League were in town, but their fans were non-existent. This was St. Louis, home of the Cardinals and a special place that was filled with something that couldn’t be described, but rather could be felt in some special way, through some special sense. We were all a part of it and as I walked inside of the Mecca that was Busch Stadium, I knew I was in the presence of something.
Realizing the game was on ESPN that evening, I called my dad, begged him to tape it, and we talked about the trip, the Cardinals and what I was going to do after the game was over. It was a whirlwind of explanations, but only one mattered – get the game on video. I hung up, read my program and waited to watch the game.
From the stadium, you could see the St. Louis skyline. Several hotels and the great Arch line the Mississippi river, which lies off in the distance from Left Field. I took several photos, watched batting practice, and then the Star Spangled Banner played as 44,000 fans took to their feet in a mix of patriotism and a feeling that everything was right again with the national pastime after a horrible strike took out the 1994 season and World Series.
Today, the Cardinals were taking on Kevin Millwood, a hot young pitcher who was bolstered by a strong Atlanta offense that saw 2 homeruns by Andres Galarraga bring their team out to an early lead. I was dejected and angry, but still I watched, un-swayed by the lead that had arisen, and crossed my fingers and prayed to the Baseball God that everything would be made right in the universe.
On Mcgwire’s first at bat, he walked. The second at bat was a single, keeping his day perfect, and then came a double in the third plate appearance. Big Mac was 2 for 2.
When Mark Mcgwire stepped to the plate in the 7th inning, the sky was dark and the flashbulbs exploded as the crowd got to their feet to signal that now was the time. There were 2 men on and the cards were down 7-5. Millwood had been removed, and Dennis Martinez, one of the most dominant Latino pitchers of the time stepped to the mound knowing that he had never let up a hit to the man. His fate was sealed with that announcement on the Busch scoreboard.
After this, the at bat is a haze. I don’t remember what happened prior to it, but Martinez threw, Mcgwire swung and took the ball deep. I was on my feet as was everyone else and we were willing it to go. I didn’t want to believe it would go because it was hit long, since I wasn’t one of those people who ooh at every single long fly ball to centerfield. I was silent in that all of my energy was in my stomach, bottled down, unable to come up, I was breathless and I was focused on that moment, when the ball cleared the fence and I was still silent as I stopped to gather in the fact that my boy had launched a 501-foot blast off of Dennis Martinez to straight away centerfield. This 3 run shot, number 55 on his quest to 70 for the year, a mark that would shatter Roger Maris’ 37 year old record, left ever single one of the 44,051 fans on their feet.
Everything came out and I was screaming in complete jubilation at the moment. For lack of a better word though my mom would understand, it felt orgasmic. It felt like an eternity that the fans cheered and screamed, jumped up and down, gave high fives to each other and hugged. And there I was, hugging and cheering and high fiving strangers as I stood in the magic of a moment that was meant to last for an eternity, but vanished beneath a cloud of sorrow as even this mighty record was forced to give way to another. Yet at that moment, Barry Bonds didn’t matter, since every time I think of that laser beam, I think of my goose bumps and how I wasn’t sure if it was gone, but it was. It was a culmination of a summer spent rooting for heroes, questing for gold and finding it just as Mark did. The tragedies of Roger Maris and my later years wouldn’t and didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except being there in the middle of section 240 and the post-game fireworks as all of the fans scuttled down to the parking lot and drove out, knowing full well that we would be unable to sleep. This was one of those moments in time, and for me, it was so much more.
It was and is the greatest moment of my life, a culmination of a summer, a trip across America in search of all that was and could be, and it was America to me on that late August night."
If they had any foresight at all, they would instead be focusing on the ability to post lots of historic video of the past online for all generations to see. The fact that any time anything really cool happens, let’s say Jacoby Ellsbury stealing home off of Andy Pettite two years ago, it’s up for a day or so on Youtube and then the backwards thinking bastards that be choose to have it pulled down out of copy right protection concerns. Now, I’m not saying that it has to stay on Youtube, but couldn’t MLB start a pay per view library service so that any time I want to watch something great happen, say watching Albert Pujols jack a Brad Lidge pitch into the wall of Minute Maid Park to keep the Cardinals alive for one more game, I can salivate over the memories of the past?
However, this is impossible, and other than the history of baseball up until 1990, I can’t watch any of the real great players of history focused upon. Thus, to dream about Brooks Robinson throwing deep to first from deep in the corner, I have to go to the third greatest gift that my wife ever gave me, and watch the celluloid footage of that World Series game to see what the heroes of the past were truly like. What will the kids of today have to do in order to watch Dustin Pedroia and Matt Holliday star for the Red Sox and Cardinals? How will these youngsters know why Adrian Gonzalez is or isn’t worth mortgaging the future for in an offseason trade that is supposed to tip the balance of all things?
Simply, they won’t - at least until ESPN or MLBTV say it's so OVER and OVER and OVER again.
And for the same reason that MLB has no concern for its history, we won’t know how “great” the steroids era players were because it’s easy to say that the media was duped into reporting how great they were to make up for the fact that baseball went on strike and killed the World Series in 1994, and their apologies are word enough for the rest of the impressionable youngsters of today to throw away their parents’ baseball card collections, but to still retain hopes in the present - especially that somehow Whiff King Ryan Howard isn’t tainted, and even though Alex Rodriguez is slightly dented, his “apology” and “great play” in the 2009 World Series makes up for everything – unlike Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa, and Mark McGwire who will forever wear their scarlet letters for eternity and then some.
However, for those people willing to look back on baseball history, they would see that Major League Baseball did memorialize Race for the Record on VHS, which is still available for $1.99 on E-bay. Nevertheless, I have my copy and have cherished it since the fall of 1998 when it first came out. I don’t make apologies for owning it. Mark McGwire was and still is my favorite player of all time. Steroids or not, the summer of 1998 was a magical moment that made me who I am. For that, it’s as important to a baseball story in 2011 as it was to a baseball story in that magical summer of a dozen years ago.
And while I liked other players from that time period when I was younger and more concerned about this sport than anything around me, I find the moments of that season to be almost (but not quite) as special as the moments of my marriage and courtship, which took place over the last few years. In that, there was a day that I would have went into a winter of depression having seen the Yankees win, but frankly, I didn’t feel more than a slight sting for what had transpired against Philadelphia’s weak pitching staff (sorry Cliff Lee and game 2 Pedro, you tried) and sorry ass strikeout king (sorry Chase Utley, at least you tried unlike your counterpart) because of the perspective that I have for where my life is with my beautiful wife besides me.
And it's great to have Tim Lincecum take down Cliff Lee, but it's not the same as spending vacations and time in general with my wife. Five years ago, that would have been something, but now there is adult and the memories of the great games of youth that still drive me back to the game for a well-placed second place in my life.
So before this gets all soppy, I should get back to baseball, and say that like Dale, I find it hard to find interest in players the same way that I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s being married and redoing a house and contemplating children and the Arizona / Utah border vacation that I want to get back to for some summer week that keeps me from thinking of some of these players in the way that I did when I was younger, but in part, I don’t find them as magical. Their interviews are generic. The plays were done better by other players in the past, and I’m not ready to believe in anyone new, other than Albert Pujols and Ichiro Suzuki in the way that I once believed in Ryne Sandberg, Paul Molitor, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, and David Ortiz. The play of the past few years and the less than believability that is associated with Dominican birth certificates has come to take its toll on me. For that, this blog is an exercise to getting back to the great players of the past and comparing their deeds to those of the current crop of players that seems to be changing incredibly from what it was even five years ago. Will Tim Lincecum and Jon Lester become the next Walter Johnson, Cy Young, Bob Gibson, Sandy Koufax, or Bob Feller? One can only hope.
As the Ramones sang about their own existential void, probably not the one that wonders if Joe Mauer will ever be the next Josh Gibson and which anonymous rookie could be the next Roger Maris, Honus Wagner, Satchell Paige, or Ted Williams, but the wonder about another time where it feels as good as the magical moments of the past, “Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest. Take my hand. Please help me man. 'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in.”
And for that, I leave you with the words from Eureka, Nevada, my unfinished first novel:
"I woke up and walked to the newspaper, looking at the Sunday sports headlines that said that Mark Mcgwire had been thrown out for disputing a called third strike the day before. The fans were irate and with good cause. The call was rotten and just like the media who were doing there best to put a damper on Big Mac’s quest for 62, the umpires weren’t cutting him any slack either.
Mcgwire’s angst was justifiable. He had been forced to endure the what he did, what he didn’t do and the will he break the record as he stood out as the sole highlight on a horrible St. Louis team. All the while, Sammy Sosa was hitting his homeruns, deferring the questions to Mcgwire and watching his Cubs fight for the division title.
I was tired of the drive. I was tired of the wait. I wanted to be in St. Louis, and that was where I was heading at the moment. I packed up and was off, though I found out that it was an evening game rather than a day game, so I would be driving in slower than I thought that I would be.
If only I was a little farther down the road, then life now would make more sense. At that moment it was all just a highway that took me to St. Louis, a game that would change my life, a perfect moment filled with more positive emotional content than an entire yearlong relationship would leave me. I was destined to be in St. Louis that evening, but first I was off to Mark Twain Lake and museum, which was somewhere in the empty middle of Missouri’s rolling forest land. I walked around, admired the sights, and thought of baseball. I was killing time.
A few hours later, I was at the game. I parked the car and ran up towards Busch Stadium and a sea of red shirts and signs.
“Go Mark Go.”
“Make it a great 1998.”
Even before I got to the game, there were signs such as the Billboard above Highway 70 that listed Mcgwire’s homerun total at the moment. St. Louis was alive with Mcgwire at the moment. The Braves, despite their perennial power in the East Divison of the National League were in town, but their fans were non-existent. This was St. Louis, home of the Cardinals and a special place that was filled with something that couldn’t be described, but rather could be felt in some special way, through some special sense. We were all a part of it and as I walked inside of the Mecca that was Busch Stadium, I knew I was in the presence of something.
Realizing the game was on ESPN that evening, I called my dad, begged him to tape it, and we talked about the trip, the Cardinals and what I was going to do after the game was over. It was a whirlwind of explanations, but only one mattered – get the game on video. I hung up, read my program and waited to watch the game.
From the stadium, you could see the St. Louis skyline. Several hotels and the great Arch line the Mississippi river, which lies off in the distance from Left Field. I took several photos, watched batting practice, and then the Star Spangled Banner played as 44,000 fans took to their feet in a mix of patriotism and a feeling that everything was right again with the national pastime after a horrible strike took out the 1994 season and World Series.
Today, the Cardinals were taking on Kevin Millwood, a hot young pitcher who was bolstered by a strong Atlanta offense that saw 2 homeruns by Andres Galarraga bring their team out to an early lead. I was dejected and angry, but still I watched, un-swayed by the lead that had arisen, and crossed my fingers and prayed to the Baseball God that everything would be made right in the universe.
On Mcgwire’s first at bat, he walked. The second at bat was a single, keeping his day perfect, and then came a double in the third plate appearance. Big Mac was 2 for 2.
When Mark Mcgwire stepped to the plate in the 7th inning, the sky was dark and the flashbulbs exploded as the crowd got to their feet to signal that now was the time. There were 2 men on and the cards were down 7-5. Millwood had been removed, and Dennis Martinez, one of the most dominant Latino pitchers of the time stepped to the mound knowing that he had never let up a hit to the man. His fate was sealed with that announcement on the Busch scoreboard.
After this, the at bat is a haze. I don’t remember what happened prior to it, but Martinez threw, Mcgwire swung and took the ball deep. I was on my feet as was everyone else and we were willing it to go. I didn’t want to believe it would go because it was hit long, since I wasn’t one of those people who ooh at every single long fly ball to centerfield. I was silent in that all of my energy was in my stomach, bottled down, unable to come up, I was breathless and I was focused on that moment, when the ball cleared the fence and I was still silent as I stopped to gather in the fact that my boy had launched a 501-foot blast off of Dennis Martinez to straight away centerfield. This 3 run shot, number 55 on his quest to 70 for the year, a mark that would shatter Roger Maris’ 37 year old record, left ever single one of the 44,051 fans on their feet.
Everything came out and I was screaming in complete jubilation at the moment. For lack of a better word though my mom would understand, it felt orgasmic. It felt like an eternity that the fans cheered and screamed, jumped up and down, gave high fives to each other and hugged. And there I was, hugging and cheering and high fiving strangers as I stood in the magic of a moment that was meant to last for an eternity, but vanished beneath a cloud of sorrow as even this mighty record was forced to give way to another. Yet at that moment, Barry Bonds didn’t matter, since every time I think of that laser beam, I think of my goose bumps and how I wasn’t sure if it was gone, but it was. It was a culmination of a summer spent rooting for heroes, questing for gold and finding it just as Mark did. The tragedies of Roger Maris and my later years wouldn’t and didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except being there in the middle of section 240 and the post-game fireworks as all of the fans scuttled down to the parking lot and drove out, knowing full well that we would be unable to sleep. This was one of those moments in time, and for me, it was so much more.
It was and is the greatest moment of my life, a culmination of a summer, a trip across America in search of all that was and could be, and it was America to me on that late August night."
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Jim Bouton
See the thing about spring training is that it's spring training. The games might be played, but they don't count. The only thing that counts is the injuries and the players that feel jilted into writing a tell all confessional about all of his fellow players (and a sequel to it) that begins with a demotion from spring training.
We can have a game where Albert Pujols can jack a fly ball over the fence in Florida. The teams can win all the split squad games that they play. The rookies can excel. The veterans can get their swing together. The fans can collect autograph after autograph. Everyone can go to the beach or Disney when the day is done. We can drink in the sun and the fun and the alcohol of an extended spring break as the national pastime comes back and life is good, but none of it means anything except the fun of the moment because it sure as hell doesn't count in the standings.
And for that, I just can't sit and watch a game. It's like Domincian winter league games. I can't watch them either - even if it's you pitch the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball, and you throw the ball. It's all the same. It's like college baseball. You hear the crack of a fastball on aluminum, and there's just something that isn't the same about it.
It's not quite minor league baseball, which is just a carnival that is disguised as a game, but when the circus is done well, then that's a thing of beauty and at least it trains your kids to watch the game for 9 innings. That's a good thing.
In the end, very little comes out of spring training. Sure, there are first games that are for the record book (Jason Heyward). Then again, there are extended slumps into May (David Ortiz). There are story lines to sell and memories to think about over and over, and as long as we're still in early March, everyone still has a chance. It's like Lou Boudreau said (all future and no past). We can go to the store and start our card collections and think about who we're happy to have and who we'd like to trade... who we should and shouldn't have signed (Jayson Werth)... the players that will be sitting this campaign out (Stephen Strasburg). We can look through our shelves for anyone of a million historical books to read and pine for a past that we never lived through (Curt Flood).
All in all, it adds up to everything that baseball will be on day 1.
Nevertheless, I may be happy it's here today, but I won't be watching it.
We can have a game where Albert Pujols can jack a fly ball over the fence in Florida. The teams can win all the split squad games that they play. The rookies can excel. The veterans can get their swing together. The fans can collect autograph after autograph. Everyone can go to the beach or Disney when the day is done. We can drink in the sun and the fun and the alcohol of an extended spring break as the national pastime comes back and life is good, but none of it means anything except the fun of the moment because it sure as hell doesn't count in the standings.
And for that, I just can't sit and watch a game. It's like Domincian winter league games. I can't watch them either - even if it's you pitch the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball, and you throw the ball. It's all the same. It's like college baseball. You hear the crack of a fastball on aluminum, and there's just something that isn't the same about it.
It's not quite minor league baseball, which is just a carnival that is disguised as a game, but when the circus is done well, then that's a thing of beauty and at least it trains your kids to watch the game for 9 innings. That's a good thing.
In the end, very little comes out of spring training. Sure, there are first games that are for the record book (Jason Heyward). Then again, there are extended slumps into May (David Ortiz). There are story lines to sell and memories to think about over and over, and as long as we're still in early March, everyone still has a chance. It's like Lou Boudreau said (all future and no past). We can go to the store and start our card collections and think about who we're happy to have and who we'd like to trade... who we should and shouldn't have signed (Jayson Werth)... the players that will be sitting this campaign out (Stephen Strasburg). We can look through our shelves for anyone of a million historical books to read and pine for a past that we never lived through (Curt Flood).
All in all, it adds up to everything that baseball will be on day 1.
Nevertheless, I may be happy it's here today, but I won't be watching it.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Nyjer Morgan
You've really gotta feel for Robert Downey Jr. and his quest to be whole again. The journey of years that he spent trying to be whole again mirrors so many "special" people's journeys to redemption in light of failure or hanging what ifs. That said, it doesn't mirror the hopes for the 2,000 teachers from Providence who face being cut out of their jobs and the government employees whose fate hangs in the balance of what the Democrats choose to do about the threats of Scott Walker to find a way to balance the budget with threats of nuclear style devastation to the opposition if they don't comply. While cooler heads seem to have prevailed in Indiana, the fate of good people to figure out their way through life in a productive job that allows for a meaningful existence and how long it will take to get back there if something, Heaven forbid, should happen are completely and totally real and real scary. Sadly, most of us would settle for less to have something. While it seems nice to have someone fighting for us, are the unions really doing it right? Do they really have the power of an entertainer or athlete's PR team and agent to make things right again in light of constant turmoil and consistent failure?
But yes, there is Robert Downey Jr. and his years spent looking to be a valuable actor again. Then again we all want to be worth more than $30million a year. It's not quite what Wolf Boy Taylor Lautner is worth, but it does dwarf his pasty vampire sidekick.
Perhaps Okkervil River said it best:
"These several years out on the sea have made me empty, cold, and clear. Pour yourself into me."
But since there were those who believed and poured themselves into making him valuable again, he is whole again while nearly 20% of American remains unemployed (we're not even talking underemployed, but we are adding those who gave up looking for jobs to the unemployment rate). In this, Robert Downey Jr. never seemed at a loss for works as he had a lot of small roles that came consistently until he finally hit pay dirt in Iron Man. Then again, he was the son of an actor, and it didn't matter that he had arrests, problems with drug and alcohol use and abuse, and more arrests.
The same can be said for Britney and Lindsey and the youthful train wreck culture of entertainment, hip hop, and Hollywood. If there's potential, there's a second chance.
We see the same in football with Michael Vick. If one can throw a football, there's a second chance - even if he's putting canines in the rape stand to breed them for vicious dog fighting matches that sadistic pigs bet on. But alas, that's just me.
Baseball is also right there. Miguel Cabrera coming to camp is a sign that everything has possibility in his world again and there is a third chance in store. It could be the triple crown potential that's giving him the next opportunity, but it's there and the American system is good.
Milton Bradley goes out with emotional stress and announces that the years of being angry were pretty much just the Albert Belle adage about being an angry black man. He has potential to be above average, and he gets another chance because the American system allows for it.
And Nyjer Morgan misses a catch and throws a hissy fit, but he's back this year with the Nationals after an undisclosed fine and an 8-game suspension.
Nevertheless, the rest of us look for stability and redemption in light of what we think we're worth in the world. It's not baseball salaries, but a living wage that can't be exported to other countries when the VORP and WAR of Indian, Chinese, and Mexican workers is comparable to that of us - just at a lower salary with less requests for additional help.
A mouth to feed doesn't reject a $200million+ 8 year salary as insufficient (even if in the world of baseball money, Albert Pujols is worth it). But alas, when concern for the athletes and entertainers stops being what it is - beautiful distraction to make life worth living in the hours that we aren't selling our time and energy to the company - and it becomes something more delusional - the desire to live in the cribs and the exotic lives of those players at the cost of making our now better - then we just have to wonder and hope for a state of normalcy again because this fake cushioned reality has destroyed us.
But yes, there is Robert Downey Jr. and his years spent looking to be a valuable actor again. Then again we all want to be worth more than $30million a year. It's not quite what Wolf Boy Taylor Lautner is worth, but it does dwarf his pasty vampire sidekick.
Perhaps Okkervil River said it best:
"These several years out on the sea have made me empty, cold, and clear. Pour yourself into me."
But since there were those who believed and poured themselves into making him valuable again, he is whole again while nearly 20% of American remains unemployed (we're not even talking underemployed, but we are adding those who gave up looking for jobs to the unemployment rate). In this, Robert Downey Jr. never seemed at a loss for works as he had a lot of small roles that came consistently until he finally hit pay dirt in Iron Man. Then again, he was the son of an actor, and it didn't matter that he had arrests, problems with drug and alcohol use and abuse, and more arrests.
The same can be said for Britney and Lindsey and the youthful train wreck culture of entertainment, hip hop, and Hollywood. If there's potential, there's a second chance.
We see the same in football with Michael Vick. If one can throw a football, there's a second chance - even if he's putting canines in the rape stand to breed them for vicious dog fighting matches that sadistic pigs bet on. But alas, that's just me.
Baseball is also right there. Miguel Cabrera coming to camp is a sign that everything has possibility in his world again and there is a third chance in store. It could be the triple crown potential that's giving him the next opportunity, but it's there and the American system is good.
Milton Bradley goes out with emotional stress and announces that the years of being angry were pretty much just the Albert Belle adage about being an angry black man. He has potential to be above average, and he gets another chance because the American system allows for it.
And Nyjer Morgan misses a catch and throws a hissy fit, but he's back this year with the Nationals after an undisclosed fine and an 8-game suspension.
Nevertheless, the rest of us look for stability and redemption in light of what we think we're worth in the world. It's not baseball salaries, but a living wage that can't be exported to other countries when the VORP and WAR of Indian, Chinese, and Mexican workers is comparable to that of us - just at a lower salary with less requests for additional help.
A mouth to feed doesn't reject a $200million+ 8 year salary as insufficient (even if in the world of baseball money, Albert Pujols is worth it). But alas, when concern for the athletes and entertainers stops being what it is - beautiful distraction to make life worth living in the hours that we aren't selling our time and energy to the company - and it becomes something more delusional - the desire to live in the cribs and the exotic lives of those players at the cost of making our now better - then we just have to wonder and hope for a state of normalcy again because this fake cushioned reality has destroyed us.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Adam Wainwright
So much promise in a young Adam Wainwright and the St. Louis Cardinals... just not for this season.
But that right elbow... the throwing arm that can make or break a player. Tommy John Surgery to follow, and stick a fork in him, he's done for 12-18 months.
That would probably stick a fork in the Cardinals' season, too, since the NL Central is no longer Comedy Central past them. Unless the Cardinals find a way to ignite Colby Rasmus at something more offense-oriented as opposed to offensive to Tony Larussa (something I totally understand since I don't like Larussa either, but fortunately, I don't have to deal with him for 162 games + spring training) and get career years out of Matt Holliday and John Jay and better than last year stats out of Pujols (because Punto, Theriot, and Berkman just aren't the answers), this is going to be a long 2011.
Since 2006's relief pitcher introduction to the non-Missouri world in the World Series, Wainwright has been pretty reliable. Other than a shortened, 2008, he's had 200 strikeouts in each of the past 2 seasons and 19+20 wins to combine with Chris Carpenter for a sweet little 1-2 punch to keep Albert in playoff hopes.
Now, he's on the shelf and destined to be an afterthought in next year's campaign too - at least unless Michael Kaplan can do some James Andrews wonder to the arm of this young ace.
This isn't good. The Cardinals need a number 1/2 starter and they need the 230+ innings the young Wainwright is good for (5 complete games last year as well).
This really isn't good because the entire Cardinals pitching rotation has been rebuilt. We may have the technology to rebuild them, but when we rebuild them, there's always the potential for more troubles - even if we're led to believe that all is well because there's a 75% recovery rate for those who undergo the most extreme of pitching injuries - i.e. the dreaded Tommy John surgery.
But Edinson Volquez believes. He's already number one out of the gate for the Reds on opening day. I want to believe for Stephen Strasburg in 2012. I really do. He's the last player I really got excited to watch in this modern game of baseball that just isn't the good ol' days.
In other injury news that matters (Vicente Padilla is a loss, but is he the team anchor?), the Phillies are catching their collective breaths as well as Cliff Lee has a side muscle strain that means that all is not well in the greatest rotation ever (registered trademark only in Philadelphia - offer does not apply in Atlanta or Baltimore). Another chance for more injury or just a hiccup on the way to greatness in 2011?
Only time will tell -35 days to be exact.
Let the games begin.
But that right elbow... the throwing arm that can make or break a player. Tommy John Surgery to follow, and stick a fork in him, he's done for 12-18 months.
That would probably stick a fork in the Cardinals' season, too, since the NL Central is no longer Comedy Central past them. Unless the Cardinals find a way to ignite Colby Rasmus at something more offense-oriented as opposed to offensive to Tony Larussa (something I totally understand since I don't like Larussa either, but fortunately, I don't have to deal with him for 162 games + spring training) and get career years out of Matt Holliday and John Jay and better than last year stats out of Pujols (because Punto, Theriot, and Berkman just aren't the answers), this is going to be a long 2011.
Since 2006's relief pitcher introduction to the non-Missouri world in the World Series, Wainwright has been pretty reliable. Other than a shortened, 2008, he's had 200 strikeouts in each of the past 2 seasons and 19+20 wins to combine with Chris Carpenter for a sweet little 1-2 punch to keep Albert in playoff hopes.
Now, he's on the shelf and destined to be an afterthought in next year's campaign too - at least unless Michael Kaplan can do some James Andrews wonder to the arm of this young ace.
This isn't good. The Cardinals need a number 1/2 starter and they need the 230+ innings the young Wainwright is good for (5 complete games last year as well).
This really isn't good because the entire Cardinals pitching rotation has been rebuilt. We may have the technology to rebuild them, but when we rebuild them, there's always the potential for more troubles - even if we're led to believe that all is well because there's a 75% recovery rate for those who undergo the most extreme of pitching injuries - i.e. the dreaded Tommy John surgery.
But Edinson Volquez believes. He's already number one out of the gate for the Reds on opening day. I want to believe for Stephen Strasburg in 2012. I really do. He's the last player I really got excited to watch in this modern game of baseball that just isn't the good ol' days.
In other injury news that matters (Vicente Padilla is a loss, but is he the team anchor?), the Phillies are catching their collective breaths as well as Cliff Lee has a side muscle strain that means that all is not well in the greatest rotation ever (registered trademark only in Philadelphia - offer does not apply in Atlanta or Baltimore). Another chance for more injury or just a hiccup on the way to greatness in 2011?
Only time will tell -35 days to be exact.
Let the games begin.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Miguel Cabrera
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
Yes, that's what one says when he or she is providing tough love to a person who got into an alcohol-related incident with his wife in 2009 and then claimed that it wasn't a problem with alcohol ONLY to end up getting a DUI less than a year and a half later.
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
That's what one says when the player has pretty much been labeled a candidate for MVP in 2011 because he's all that and a bag of potato chips, too. He was the man that kept the Tigers alive in 2009 until he had that DUMB incident with his wife while consuming lots of alcohol, and then the team went downhill as his manager, Dave Dombroski, got him released from jail.
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
And while many people suffer from problems with alcohol, it's more the fact that the last time didn't wake him up to his potential as a baseball player, his position on the Tigers, and the legal ramifications that a person can have because of alcohol. Then again, Cabrera isn't your everyday person. He's a 27 year old man in the middle of a $153.3million deal. Last year, he hit .328 with 38 home runs and 126 RBIs. In less at bats, he was better in all 3 categories, but this is about average for him short of 2008's .292 batting average, which was his first time under .300 since 2004 - his first full season in the majors, which still saw him hit .294.
In short, he has 247 in about 7.5 seasons, averages .313 at the plate, and is still only 27. Buster Olney swoons over him and says he's the second best right handed hitter in baseball behind only Albert Pujols.
Then he wants to go and spoil it all by doing something stupid like swigging scotch in front of his arresting officer?
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
Josh Hamilton figured it out, and the worlds of baseball, Christianity, and second chances done right love him for it. Sure, he slipped that one night in the bar where he was photographed in all of those stupid pictures, and he's not perfect. In short, that incident was
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
However, Josh is on the right track. Is Cabrera who just scored in at .26 BAC? I don't know, and it's not really my concern. My life is pointed towards (hopefully) good things. I'd like to wish the same for Cabrera, but in a world where athletes are hated enough to end up on sites devoted to their public drunken binges, or more simply, just being seen drinking and assumed to be a lush, isn't behaving something good? When people want to talk smack on people for whatever they do - to include recovering from a shark bite that rips off the arm of a young surfer girl named Bethany Hamilton - what does that say for where Cabrera will end up as a result of this? I'm sure his rookie card value isn't soaring today.
Dumb.
Yes, that's what one says when he or she is providing tough love to a person who got into an alcohol-related incident with his wife in 2009 and then claimed that it wasn't a problem with alcohol ONLY to end up getting a DUI less than a year and a half later.
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
That's what one says when the player has pretty much been labeled a candidate for MVP in 2011 because he's all that and a bag of potato chips, too. He was the man that kept the Tigers alive in 2009 until he had that DUMB incident with his wife while consuming lots of alcohol, and then the team went downhill as his manager, Dave Dombroski, got him released from jail.
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
And while many people suffer from problems with alcohol, it's more the fact that the last time didn't wake him up to his potential as a baseball player, his position on the Tigers, and the legal ramifications that a person can have because of alcohol. Then again, Cabrera isn't your everyday person. He's a 27 year old man in the middle of a $153.3million deal. Last year, he hit .328 with 38 home runs and 126 RBIs. In less at bats, he was better in all 3 categories, but this is about average for him short of 2008's .292 batting average, which was his first time under .300 since 2004 - his first full season in the majors, which still saw him hit .294.
In short, he has 247 in about 7.5 seasons, averages .313 at the plate, and is still only 27. Buster Olney swoons over him and says he's the second best right handed hitter in baseball behind only Albert Pujols.
Then he wants to go and spoil it all by doing something stupid like swigging scotch in front of his arresting officer?
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
Josh Hamilton figured it out, and the worlds of baseball, Christianity, and second chances done right love him for it. Sure, he slipped that one night in the bar where he was photographed in all of those stupid pictures, and he's not perfect. In short, that incident was
Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb.
However, Josh is on the right track. Is Cabrera who just scored in at .26 BAC? I don't know, and it's not really my concern. My life is pointed towards (hopefully) good things. I'd like to wish the same for Cabrera, but in a world where athletes are hated enough to end up on sites devoted to their public drunken binges, or more simply, just being seen drinking and assumed to be a lush, isn't behaving something good? When people want to talk smack on people for whatever they do - to include recovering from a shark bite that rips off the arm of a young surfer girl named Bethany Hamilton - what does that say for where Cabrera will end up as a result of this? I'm sure his rookie card value isn't soaring today.
Dumb.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
David Montgomery
As we walk into the end of Albert Pujols' negotiating period, there are three human beings that I blame for this debacle: David Montgomery (Phillies CEO that signed Ryan Howard), Tom Hicks (the former Rangers CEO that ruined his team by signing A-Rod), and Scott Boras (super agent that gets his players more money than they're worth because baseball money isn't real money and owners aren't smart enough to say when enough is enough). I could blame Marvin Miller and the players unions, but let's be honest; they were a reaction to the Charles Commiskeys of the baseball world who wouldn't pay players what they were worth. I can't blame Jim "Catfish" Hunter since he got what he deserved out of a situation where he could get the money. I can't blame Curt Flood because I wouldn't want to go to a racist city like Philadelphia either and deal with the things that he would have put up with had his trade gone through.
That said, I have to blame someone, so let's blame the guy who signed first baseman Ryan Howard to 5 years and $139million. As soon as the deal was inked out, Albert Pujols became worth twice that much money. Is it any wonder that Tony Larussa would see the baseball union as having the chance to drive up the maximum salary in baseball as it fairly sees Pujols as a $30million+ man? The reality is that Pujols is great. He is St. Louis (the team and the city). He is the greatest and most consistent player in baseball. While we had injury worries a few years ago, it was a blip in the radar from a man who has hit .300 every year. He has 30 home runs and 100 RBIs every year. In 2007, he had a "crappy" year since he didn't get 100 runs (only 99). Every other year of his career, he did. Not including his rookie season of 93 Ks (in almost 700 at bats), he has only had 1 season of over 70 strikeouts (76), which was last year. The man is a machine and he wants $300 million for 10 years - not $200million+ for 8.
Is he worth it? If we had baseball money to pay for it, we'd pay. After all, David Montgomery gave $25million to a guy with 1 season of more home runs (58) than Pujols best total (49). Sure, Pujols has only 3 seasons over 130 RBIs (and never more than 140). Ryan Howard has 4 and 3 of these were league leading totals in the 140s. Is this as much Ryan Howard as batting around Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins, Shane Victorino, Jason Werth, and Pat Burrell batting in front of him or because he's just a big bopper?
The reality is that Howard's stats aren't that INCREDIBLE other than the magical 2006. He has not hit and totaled 180 strikeouts or more in 4 strikeouts. Last year, he missed this due to injury. He has 1 .300 season in 2006. I'm not saying he's a chump, but I am saying that he's not worth the money he got, but Philadelphia needs a hero, and I guess he'll work if you're so inclined to like the team.
But that said, on a day where Cardinals fans wonder if this will be a triple crown year as Albert walks to Anaheim, New York (either team), Boston, or some other magical team that feels $300 million is chump change... and there will be suitors. This guy for a solid team means division victory and October surprises.
For all of the money given to Matt Holliday (7 years, $120million), not paying Albert... dumb, dumb, dumb. If this is the 1st .400 season since Ted Williams, won't the Cardinals being crying in their Busch beer as Pujols packs his one man show up for a contender? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
That said, I have to blame someone, so let's blame the guy who signed first baseman Ryan Howard to 5 years and $139million. As soon as the deal was inked out, Albert Pujols became worth twice that much money. Is it any wonder that Tony Larussa would see the baseball union as having the chance to drive up the maximum salary in baseball as it fairly sees Pujols as a $30million+ man? The reality is that Pujols is great. He is St. Louis (the team and the city). He is the greatest and most consistent player in baseball. While we had injury worries a few years ago, it was a blip in the radar from a man who has hit .300 every year. He has 30 home runs and 100 RBIs every year. In 2007, he had a "crappy" year since he didn't get 100 runs (only 99). Every other year of his career, he did. Not including his rookie season of 93 Ks (in almost 700 at bats), he has only had 1 season of over 70 strikeouts (76), which was last year. The man is a machine and he wants $300 million for 10 years - not $200million+ for 8.
Is he worth it? If we had baseball money to pay for it, we'd pay. After all, David Montgomery gave $25million to a guy with 1 season of more home runs (58) than Pujols best total (49). Sure, Pujols has only 3 seasons over 130 RBIs (and never more than 140). Ryan Howard has 4 and 3 of these were league leading totals in the 140s. Is this as much Ryan Howard as batting around Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins, Shane Victorino, Jason Werth, and Pat Burrell batting in front of him or because he's just a big bopper?
The reality is that Howard's stats aren't that INCREDIBLE other than the magical 2006. He has not hit and totaled 180 strikeouts or more in 4 strikeouts. Last year, he missed this due to injury. He has 1 .300 season in 2006. I'm not saying he's a chump, but I am saying that he's not worth the money he got, but Philadelphia needs a hero, and I guess he'll work if you're so inclined to like the team.
But that said, on a day where Cardinals fans wonder if this will be a triple crown year as Albert walks to Anaheim, New York (either team), Boston, or some other magical team that feels $300 million is chump change... and there will be suitors. This guy for a solid team means division victory and October surprises.
For all of the money given to Matt Holliday (7 years, $120million), not paying Albert... dumb, dumb, dumb. If this is the 1st .400 season since Ted Williams, won't the Cardinals being crying in their Busch beer as Pujols packs his one man show up for a contender? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
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