Carl Crawford

There is something about the feeling of being in a new ballpark.

Today, I went to Commerica Park in Detroit with a friend of mine from Air Force days (a million years ago or something like that) to see the Tigers play the Red Sox.

It's definitely a brave new world that we're entering into. Since Brian Stow and since becoming an adult, there are a few things that I'm definitely not doing. Number one - I'm not trying to cause a scene in an opposing ballpark. Yep... I'm definitely more mature than I was at age 29 when I went with 2 friends (one who loved baseball - one who wanted to see the game) to see the Orioles and Red Sox square off at Camden Yards. We had kazoos, signs, and attitude, and many people probably weren't happy with us. Nevertheless, we went hoarse as Pedro went for a complete game with 15 strikeouts and only 2 hits. It was a romp, and it became the chapter "Pedro and the Pantheon" in Bill Simmons' Now I Can Die in Peace. To give you an example of how I've changed, when we went, we had an extra ticket, and we sold it to a guy on the street - informing him that we were going to be crazy. I don't think he realized how much, but alas... we were just getting started for preparations for the game that never was (a rainout between the Trenton Thunder and Boston Red Sox that we showed up at way early in hopes of getting autographs while wearing face paint). I have the pictures from sitting around waiting, but alas, the rain that day just made sure the game would never happen.

Back then, I was all about my team. It's not that I'm not now, but it's just when one is in a younger frame of mind, one doesn't have to feel so desperately connected to meaning through the actions of another team. Well, that and I'm not Harvey Updyke. I still get venomous at the Yankees, but I don't go so far as to refer to Derek Jeter as a selfish player like Bleacher Report (these guys must be on some serious medication). Then again, their definitions of selfish are mostly just jerk players and players from New York (though I would agree with A-Rod at number 1).

Number 2: Since Brian Stow, I'm conscious about getting my ass kicked for my Pedro Martinez jersey and Red Sox hat. I actually asked my friend (from Michigan) if he would mind sitting next to a guy in a Red Sox jersey and if the fans would react horribly to opposing fans in the stadium. As I'm not a Yankee fan, I was ok, and really, there were other fans who were all really decent about being there, and that's what it's all about. Experience other stadiums, enjoy their heritage (there are some awesome statues of Ty Cobb, Al Kaline, Hal Newhauser, Hank Greenberg, Charlie Gehringer, and Willie Horton. For this, the Tigers do love their past and present (much love is shown to the current team despite only Cabrera and Verlander being all stars), it's just that they don't have much of a current team, and for that...

Number 3: It's not like watching Alfredo Aceves... even for as dominant as he looked, was really a great drawing card. He wasn't flat out nasty, but he did get the job done, which is more than can be said for Max Scherzer, who within 4 batters into an outless third inning was done for the 7 runs that he gave up. Normally, if I was into my team as I used to be, I would have been chanting and screaming with Jacoby Ellsbury's 3-run jack, but I actually felt bad for my friend that he didn't get to see a closer game. I don't want to be an ugly winner, but yeah... the box score really says it all.

And it's not like I get all jazzed on the current Red Sox. Sure, Big Sluggi has redeemed himself this year. Sure, there are bright spots after the horrible start, but they're not the Idiots from 2003 or the 2004 World Series team (or even 2007). They're a stacked team of devastating offense brought together to kill opposing teams.

Now that Carl Crawford is 8 for his last 9 (2 doubles, 2 triples, 1 home run, 5 runs, 5 RBIs, no whiffs), can anything stop Boston? They whooped on Cleveland 2 of 3 games and only lost the first one after Manny Acta got himself ejected (gotta love that Lake Erie love that pushed the Indians to victory).

Technically, we're .003 out of first place as the Rays fall to a game and a half back with the Yankees in first, but there is such a thing as momentum. The Yankees have a West Coast trip. Boston gets Detroit and Oakland and the White Sox. Then, the 2 come together for a meeting where Boston has killed New York in their meetings this year. I'm not saying that a June meetup is the end of the world / do or die, but with the way that the Red Sox are changing their direction, it could be meaningful TV.

If I allow myself to get caught up in it!

Cal Ripken Jr.

In light of Jorge Posada playing himself out of New York, and let's be honest... the New York Post said it the best; he's pretty much done like a charbroiled steak, let's talk about aging stars and what to do with people when they're past their prime, but they're still loved.
Take the biggest love fest in history - Cal Ripken Jr... this man is truly slobbered over in Baltimore except when it comes to people wanting to pony up $100 to buy my 1982 Topps Traded Set complete with PSA8.5 Cal Ripken rookie. It's like Harvey Keitel said in Pulp Fiction... only people have already started and there's no stopping...
Ripken's biggest claim to fame is that he played 2,632 consecutive games. This went from May 30, 1982, to September 20, 1998. During this time, he played 8,243 consecutive innings from June 5, 1982 to September 14, 1987. During this time, he also hit roughly .300 and pounded out more than 25 homers a year during a period in time where the average short stop was Ozzie Smith.
However, in 1991, Cal Ripken had his last great line in baseball: .323, 34, 114. After that, everything was above pedestrian, BUT it wasn't super wonderful mega fantastic. SURE... he was playing every game. Yet he was still playing every game for 7 full years. The Orioles may have moved him from short to third, but there was no future contingency, and they came to suffer for it years later.
Nobody thought about that when they were winning (shades of New York, anyone?). In 1983, the Orioles won the World Series. Until 1996, they weren't in the playoffs again. However, thanks to Jeffrey Maier, they lost in 96 and in 97, they lost to a Cleveland team that was one at bat to Edgar Renteria from winning the World Series. For Baltimore, that was it. The Yankees got dominant, and the future was cast in stone. Thank God for the Devil Rays to keep them out of the cellar most years.
When it was all said and done, Ripken went from the man who broke the streak of Lou Gehrig (a streak Gehrig only stopped because of life-ending injury and pride in being complimented for pedestrian accomplishments) in 1995, resurrecting baseball with a happy moment after the strike, and eventually gave it up to just as much tremendous fanfare. Thus, he was forever enshrined as an institution in the Chesapeake Bay (in no small part because he was born there and stayed there to be dominant - that generation's Joe Mauer).
So who knew that the man who had no business being at the 2001 All Star Game (at least until he hit a home run and got to play short stop as Alex Rodriguez stepped aside to make the old man feel at home again with an MVP award) was involved in a vicious rumor that he pummeled the tar out of Kevin Costner for hooking up with his wife? Interestingly enough, now I do, and now many people on the web do. It's a BS rumor dispelled by Costner, Ripken, and Snopes, but yeah... you've gotta love the Internet where EVERYTHING is true.
So for what I've learned, be it Ken Griffey Jr., Derek Jeter, David Ortiz, Willie Mays, or a constantly banged up Chipper Jones, there comes a point where a player has to call it a day and know when to say when.
They can go the easy way like Andy Pettite and don't go in a decline. They can be forced out like Griffey. They can change from Big Papi, the hero of the Red Sox dynasty years to Big Sluggi, the steroids mirage who doesn't show up to play until May, or they can just keep hoping that this year will be the year that they turn it around - maybe one last time like a hobbling Kirk Gibson in a World Series moment for the ages.
Sadly, we know which way it's more likely to be.

Daisuke Matsuzaka

Baltimore went to New York last night to test their season against the Yankees and find out just how real that they are. They got rained out. Shame that Boston didn't get rained out. Once again, the Rays came in and whooped on them. It wasn't a 16-5 drubbing at the hands of Daisuke Matsuzaka, but losing a heartbreaker to David Price (3-2) is just as bad and does nothing to propel themselves up the division in any hope for contention. Thus, in honor of Daisuke's gyroball that doesn't live up to the hype of what we were all supposed to fear, I am going to create a list of 10 things that I really do fear more than the gyroball. 1. That monkey from Toy Story 3. Fantastic movie by the way... Lotso and Big Baby were pretty scary, too - as was Ken's handwriting. 2. Being in the attic alone. Ever since I was a kid and my dad convinced me that a ghost lived in the cooby hole (a crawl in closet that you store stuff in), I have been paranoid about the attic. Let's just say that it scared my nieces and nephews as well since they don't have attics in their houses. 3. Since said ghost was a guy who fell off the enclosed porch, I'm also deathly afraid of heights. 4. Noises in the night from downstairs... it might be Hazel (our resident ghost who threw up the blind in our bedroom at 2am the first night that we were in the house) or it might be thug kids breaking in. 5. Not having music to listen to. I wouldn't want to live in a world without music. 6. Having a daughter singing along with Ke$ha. Having a daughter someday and having her want to look like Ke$ha. Having a daughter and having her want to act like Ke$ha. Having a son impregnate someone like Ke$ha and to end up chained to her for life via child support payments and split custody for the rest of that child's natural life. 7. To lose my mental and physical faculties and be dependant on someone else for support the rest of my life. To have that person be an untrained slacker / loser making $10 or so an hour to pretend to care about me would make it even scarier still. 8. Knowing that Obama is in charge of security and economy and future for my country. Knowing that despite his incompetence, the best that people can do to create reason for him not to be there is that his birth certificate was supposedly faked, which is both assinine and desperate. 9. Losing my wife to a tragic accident or old age or just not having her around. It's hard to want to live in a world without the person that you truly love. 10. Having to eat broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, or any salad like vegetables. Let it be known that I can out wait any person trying or expecting me to eat any leafy vegetable that there is. Oh yes... it ain't happening. That said, I fear tsunamis on the Pacific Coast more than Daisuke's gyroball and I live in Pennsylvania. I fear the Care Bears more than Matsuzaka. In short, there is nothing I fear LESS than the gyroball, which will forever be linked to the most over-hyped foreign import in the history of sports - and I remember Hideki Irabu.

Francisco Liriano

The future is always brighter when multi millions come your way. On that note, Vladamir Guerrero must be smiling like the Cheshire Cat at his bluff of another offer to the Baltimore Orioles didn't get called and he got them to pony up $8million (baseball money, it's not in any way real). We'll see if all this money thrown around to whiff kings, sluggers, and could be pitchers makes Baltimore 2011 look like Baltimore 1983 or Tampa Bay 1999.
I'm going to say that I know where my money is.
All the same, for as unreal as baseball money is, it's great to see players get rewarded for success.
Even more than that, it's great to see players bounce back from Tommy John surgery and get some cash for their pains. I can't wait to see Stephen Strasburg come back and kick ass with an indestructible arm and youthful enthusiasm as he makes the Nationals the dominant team in the N.L. East. More than anything, I just want to see Ryan Howard sitting at home all October and dreaming about the wasted opportunities he had while he was whiffing away in the big games, but alas, I digress.
Last year, Francisco Liriano went 14-10 for a rather pitiful Twins team (pitiful in that A) they incite pity and B) they aren't destined to EVER succeed in the post Kirby Puckett team except in winning a division that is essentially whoever makes the biggest move out of the Twins, Tigers, and White Sox). His first half was better than his second half, and he returned to 2006 form after not healing quickly enough and pretty much sucking 2009 up. Sure, we can blame that on Minnesota as well. After the end of July, he came back for a game in August and a game in September. He didn't do well in either of them, and they cost him 3 years if you include surgery.
Now, he's back with a new contract, and we have to feel good about that gesture. Hopefully, he can return to the form that saw him 12-2.
It's never a good thing to waste a young pitcher, and let's be honest, Joe Mauer, Justin Morneau, and Michael Cuddyer aren't getting any younger. Neither is Jim Thome who has 600 home runs and a return to the fall classic on his mind. However, the Twins aren't necessarily built to compete into mid October. Pavano, Baker, Slowey, and the rest don't inspire fear in hitters, no matter how kind the resigning of Pavano was. Liriano is the answer and the question mark, and we can only hope the $4.3 million gesture from the Twin Cities will energize him to play hard and to see if they can take out the AL West champion or the AL Wild Card team and bring the Twins back to glory.
Heaven knows that Joe "I really can't stop ANYTHING that the Yankees throw at me" Nathan isn't the answer at the end or middle of ball games.

Adrian Beltre

Today is a day for celebrations... not the kind like Alfredo Simon of the Baltimore Orioles has, complete with gun firing wildly in the air and giving decent gun-owning citizens a bad rap, but this is not mainstream America, and it seems that New Year Celebrations in the local parks of Dominican Republic are more like Kabul than Ephrata (the town I live that is smack dab in the middle of Amish country, the suburbs, the rural towns, the isolated housing developments, and the crime-ridden streets of Reading, PA. Yep... we've got it all, and I'm sure we've got our fair share of shooters to go with the street fireworks, but fortunately, this year, we didn't have anyone shoot their brother in law and his son.
Not knowing Newton can be deadly for those closest to us as we have to know that bullets will crash into the earth after they're fired into the air, but Simon seemed to miss that one, and when the bullets ended their flight... one dead and one wounded.
Fortunately, he surrendered and is looking at 3 months in the pokey according to one report, which is nice because that means he can come back and give the Orioles a new look. I'm sure Buck Showalter will be proud.
Yes... today is a day of celebrations for Roberto Alomar, and though I'm sure that his friendship with John Hirschbeck, the umpire he spit on, is truly best friends forever in only the way that an altercation can make two guys buddies, there is something that said... "is this in the best interest of baseball that this guy is in the Hall of Fame?"
I'm glad that Hirschbeck's son hung out with Robbie in the same way I'm glad that Juan Marichal delivered the eulogy for John Roseboro. Making amends is a part of life. We need to move on and come to an understanding of one another.
And when it all comes down to it, what is the crime for which baseball numbers don't add up to the Hall of Fame? Using a spitball? Refusing to play with African Americans? Being a drunken womanizer? Working for a casino? Swinging a bat at a catcher who threw by your ear? Racially instigated attacks on players and / or fans? Betting on games? Being involved in gambling? Cocaine usage? Amphetamines usage? Steroids usage?
As was by Ross Newham, formerly of the LA Times:
“Somebody said we are not the morality police, but yet I think we are. If we aren’t, who is? Part of our job is that we are custodians of the game’s history. I do look at the larger picture, and Palmeiro had a lot of good years, but that brings back to my feeling that otherwise he would be worthy of the Hall of Fame.”
And so the writers pick and choose who gets subjected to the rules of entry into immortality, we start to see a pattern of peripheral baseball writers and commentators like Bob Costas who cry themselves silly talking about how they could have missed the huge biceps of stars while they celebrated their achievements in the nineties and early 2000s. And Ken Burns gives him the video time to do so (while neglecting Albert Pujols from Inning 10, but that's another story). Now, they're going to make up for it... out goes McGwire, Gonzalez, and Palmeiro (so far).
But baseball didn't rush to judge Palmeiro when he went from the wild ride of the baseball steroids hearings (March 17, 2005) to his 3,000th hit (July 15, 2005) to his steroids suspension (August 2, 2005).
And 5+ years later, we still want to believe him... well, sort of, not really.
At least he wants us to believe him.
But baseball never bats their eyes when it sends him to his grave. They use him for celebration and not even three weeks later he is guilty and punished for using steroids. Of course, the fans hated him more and he never recovered, eventually vanishing into the same obscurity his career began in.
"I have never used steroids. Period."
And then there is the 2011 version...

"I am disappointed, obviously I am disappointed, I thought I would get more support. But I am grateful that I get to stay on the ballot for at least another year. Maybe I'll go up, maybe I'll go down. I thought I was worthy of a better showing than what I got, but I had a black mark against me my last year in baseball. That is hard to overcome. I know there were some voters that said, 'He's a Hall of Famer, but he tested positive. I can't vote for him.' That's the reality of it. And it is something I have to live with."
But this is a day of celebrations and after 14 years, Bert Blyleven can be the first "Flying Dutchman" in Cooperstown, and if it's only 287 wins and 3701 strikeouts keeping him out for that long, then who is good enough for first ballot election? I'm sure that Barry Larkin wants to know, but he like all the other players of the dead era (the one where most of my better condition baseball cards are from) is a victim of inflated numbers.

But is Blyleven really in that same category? He had some good ERAs, he won 2 World Series rings (one in each league), and he played for 21 years.
However, he was never sexy and stylin' in the way of some baseball players, and for that, let's celebrate with Adrian Beltre today since he'll be getting as much as $96 million for 6 years of service with the Texas Rangers.
And isn't that what it's all about?
Never mind that he has a career average of .275, which would be much lower if not for the 2 contract years where he played exceptionally (48 home runs and .334 in 2004 AND 28 home runs and .321 last year). So if it's another inflated total for a player that the fans can root for and wear his jersey... yep.
That said, next year's celebration won't be about sexy image - it will be about having to elect someone, but we'll hold off until the first week of 2012 to discuss that.
In the meantime, we'll wonder about all of those players from the glory years and the black and white pictures who seemed to exist before the media scrutiny and the chance to screw up big time, like Willie Wilson who in referring to his cocaine bust said,
"People think the game is glamorous, but I never wanted the attention—good or bad. I felt a lot of pressure trying to satisfy the club, the public, my parents. People wanted me to be a role model; even the judge said so when he sentenced me. I always felt your parents should be your role models. But I never blamed anyone else for what I did. The Royals have done a lot for me, and I don't want them to think about me now. I just want them to have a good season. I'll be staying by myself more when I return. I'm not going to yell or scream anymore, just do my job. I wish that's all there was to baseball."
And maybe that's true, and maybe it's not, but for guys like Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe who should be in the Hall of Fame, it's not time to celebrate yet. And for many of the players who never made peanuts in their careers, it's not time to celebrate.
But such is the sadness of the great game of baseball. Some achieve and shine while others are left on the fringes for those of us who truly love the history.