Bill Bergen

Andre Ethier part 2... oh, how the mightily above average have fallen.
The streak hits 30 and stops there.
So it goes.
But alas, when one gets thirty games in a row, that's the mark of success, but when one fails 46 times in a row and has a career average of .170, that's the mark of futility.
I guess you can call him the 2011 Jason Varitek of his day. He was a good backstop that called the game well, but in the end... he never hit above .200. Too bad because he never had a George Brett character (or Bruce Bochte and Tom Paciorek) to playfully create a Mendoza Line in the stats to remember him by.
From 1901-1911, he played the game and finished with no seasons above the Mendoza Line. He hit 2 home runs in his storied career, and while that may have got him some lovin' from the ladies, I'm sure it made a couple of pitchers want to jump off of the Brooklyn Bridge. The first of these was in his rookie year with the Reds, and the second one was 8 years later with the Brooklyn Superbas whose legend is almost as lost as Bergen's is.
Nevertheless, he is the epitome of failure in major league history, and that is saying something. Maybe with that being said, his backstop ability to call pitches is better than that of Jarrod Saltalamacchia, whose non-ability just continues to amaze all who wonder how Boston could be so free spending on everyone from Daisuke Matsuzaka to Wacky Lackey and not pony up for someone with more upside than "if he works out, the sub 7 figure contract will seem like a bargain and make up for the adventure story that is played every time Daisuke gets to 2 strikes and can't close the deal.
Yep... Bergen was something in his day, and perhaps it was an act of niceness that he stuck around. Compared to Mark Reynolds' over-priced and high strikeout self (or Austin Jackson for that matter), Bergen's one in 7 K rate for a career is still better than 1 every 3 or less for some of the free swinging no power hitters of 2011. Granted, he's not Ted Williams (27) or Joe Dimaggio (13) in 1941, but we can't always have a choice to choose between the .400 guy or the guy with 56 games in a row (or 74/75 games that he hit in).
But if Ethier is our mark of success, let us wish him well. If he's a flash in the pan... this year's Willie Tavarez, at least he topped it out and got to 30 games.
That is saying something.

Andre Ethier

Andre the Giant, he's not. He's about a foot too short, and he's not French. On top of that, he just doesn't have the hair. He doesn't have the strength to last a full season either. He's also not the kind of guy that can scare the beejesus out of an in his prime Hulk Hogan. However, he's still one of the greats of the game of baseball - still coming into his stride and deciding what kind of player he wants to be.
For example, last year, Andre Ethier lost his .300 average on July 28th. He battled to bring it back, but by August 26th it was gone. For an average that was as high as .394 after 30 games, he lost it all only to go 7/10 in a meaningless final weekend against Arizona on the final weekend to take it back to .292.
Tonight, Ethier attempts to be the 54th player in baseball history to get to a 30-game hit streak. Seeing as he sat out against Carlos Zambrano on Wednesday night, one has to wonder if it's still a record if we pick and choose who we face in getting our hits. Alas, unlike Terrance Mann, we have to go with the idea that a record is a record. Joe Dimaggio didn't get to pick and choose his 56 games. Hell, he didn't even choose to sit out after the streak was over. He went right back to hitting in 19 straight games, but alas... players today are wusses.
Eric Chavez is a perfect example. As a player that isn't shy about expressing how he sits out against tough pitchers like Randy Johnson, he stands as a player that is over-rated, over-paid, and over-exposed - especially now that he is in New York - though currently injured like Derek Jeter who isn't really injured, but he isn't playing and he is replaced in the lineup, Chavez's opposite in every way. Despite this, in 2006-7, he made $9.5mill each season. This increased to $11.5mill per and went to $12.5mill in 2010. What did the A's get? He went to the field 137 times and earned a Gold Glove in 2006. Nevermind that Gold Gloves are a way of giving love to a popular player from years past as opposed to rewarding CURRENT defensive awesomeness, but yeah... After that, he played 90 games, 23, 8, 33, and 17 games. He went from a .240 batting average in 2006 to a .241 the next year, but seeing as it was over limited games, it's not rerpesentative of anything - simply a bad investment on an over-hyped player.
Now, while it would be wrong to wish him into a speedy retirement, the reality is that other than a feel good story in limited at bats in the Bronx, it's hard to wonder what the Yankees were getting, but that makes us thing about Mark Prior, Freddy Garcia, Kerry Wood, (pre St. Louis) Lance Berkman, Bartolo Colon, Chan Ho Park, and Austin Kearns (who all played for the Yankees in the past calendar year).
In this, it's hard to think what they thought they were getting. Granted, when they signed Jose Canseco in 2000, it was to keep him away from Boston - smart business sense. But these guys were all considered washed up. It's not like they went into a city that would just show them love unconditionally (St. Louis does this) for what they could be and bring them back to life.
Los Angeles still has hope for its stars. How long did Mannywood last after Manny Ramirez showed his true colors? The fans still believe in Matt Kemp as they turn a blind eye to his strikeouts and look only at his times connecting with the ball. And tonight, they'll have hope for Andre Ethier, but for us... we just wonder who this guy is.
But don't think anything of it... it's probably East Coast bias.

Christy Mathewson

In 1986, America got sick of Khadaffy and his antics, which stapled him in blame to the German disco bombing that wounded over 200 people while killing 2 Americans and a Turkish woman. Ronald Reagan ended weeks of debate with the decision to level Libya for their actions and came within minutes of ending the Colonel once and for all in an action that came to be called El Dorado Canyon. Unfortunately, Air Force troops Fernando L. Ribas-Dominicci and Paul F. Lorence were killed when their plane was shot down in the attack.
Two years later, Libya was back in action when Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi began his actions that got him convicted for killing over 270 people in the Lockerbie bombing that took a jumbo jet right out of the sky. Two years ago, the British people gave him up. What Obama did or did not know aside, al-Megrahi went on to live his life free and suddenly not as terminal in the state of his cancer, but as the bombings of Libya began, we came to understand that he was apparently fingering Khadaffy for green lighting the terrorist attack.
Today, another American plane has crashed in Libya, and it's hard to think about baseball when the world is so confused and torn, so instead, I dedicate this post to the memories of Americans who have served and done what they had to do. And since this is baseball, I choose to focus on some of the baseball players who gave their lives and careers to the military.
Obviously, there was Ted Williams, Bob Feller, Hank Greenberg, and Joe Dimaggio, but there was Stan Musial and Monte Irvin. These were guys who went because they felt compelled to. They were men who were forced by circumstances to go. They were men who felt solidarity with fighting the Anti-Semitism of the time, at home and abroad.
But in World War 1, the most famous American baseball player to die was Eddie Grant of the Reds. Most American players worked in essential services when the league shut down, but some trained for future combat. These were men like Ty Cobb, Branch Rickey, and Christy Mathewson. In a training session for preparation for the chemical warfare attacks that were all too commonplace in the European theater, Christy inhaled poisonous mustard gas and he was never the same. The feeling of sputtering and coughing as his lungs inhaled the brutal mixture ended the career of one of the greatest pitchers that the game EVER saw.
And for that loss... just like Bob Feller and Ted Williams' stats that never happened... what are they really? They're the same sacrifices that many men have made and never heard about in the same way because they couldn't throw a fast ball or hit a home run.
To this, Bob Feller said it best:
"Baseball is only a game, a game of inches and a lot of luck. During a time of all-out war, sports are very insignificant. Life comes down to honesty and doing what's right. That's what's most important. Our Constitution is more important than baseball."

Ford Frick

In Saving Private Ryan, he was the sniper casually shooting Nazis at will until he got rushed and got blown up - taking out more than one could count. In 3, he plays Dale Earnhardt Sr., the badass legend of racing, in all of his glory. He's in a lot of other  movies... sometimes in more prominent roles, but mostly as the guy who rounds out the group of guys that he's with... i.e. Will Smith's confidante in Seven Pounds (a rather horrible movie if ever there was one - that guy just needs to redo the Fresh Prince or Independence Day).
But there was a moment of shining glory... an underappreciated gem from Billy Crystal of all people (well, actually not since Crystal is a Yankee drooler and it was right after the time that Mark McGwire was captivating the world and ESPECIALLY ME with his home run race to beat Sammy Sosa to 61 and make it to 70) that changed the possibility of what baseball movies could be.
That movie was 61*, and it's still one of my favorites. Sure, it was sentimental, and sure, it painted Ford Frick as a villain with the ghost of Babe Ruth as some unmovable slug (and in a way, that's about what he is - other than his larger than life big kid persona that hit a lot of home runs, was a great pitcher in his day, and all that yadda yadda yadda pap) in the way of a man's record setting greatness.
And perhaps, I can't say it as well as Bill Veeck in Veeck as in Wreck to talk down on Frick's destruction of the greatest story in baseball in ages (the tale of 2 men for the record with Mantle chasing as well for most of the season), but what this whole story really boils down to isn't an asterisk - it is just that: the fact that only 23,154 people saw the home run live because Frick doesn't understand baseball promotion. Baseball could have embraced the story, remembered its past, as it did with Maris throughout the entire 1998 season (he's still at the top of my all time favorite list of players with McGwire, Pedro, and Gibson). How many books have and will be released on Mr. Maris?
The point is that we don't need our heroes to be one dimensional. Some of them can suffer from having their hair fall out due to stress (I can relate to that - and I can relate to premature white hairs in my chin patch). We can relate to staring down the system that doesn't appreciate us. We can relate to a wife who supports us through thick and thin. We can feel the urge to walk away - but not doing so. We can feel the urge to bunt if it helps us win a game rather than to swing for the fences. Most of us are Maris.
The myth of Babe Ruth is an inflated pile of hooey. Mickey Mantle may have been the boyhood hero of his time, but a certain other center fielder had to leave the game first. There will always be room on the wall for the heroes. They come from a time and place, and they should be revered and respected at something more than old folks / timers days and as a great newspaper story 37 years later (as opposed to being portraryed as an uncooperative jerk to the media at the time).
These are the things that Crystal captured... well, that and the Ball Four side of Mickey Mantle, but that's neither here nor there. Tracey Stallard's price on the banquet circuit went through the roof, and he was a Red Sox pitcher, and yeah... it was a time and place that the rivalry wasn't, and the record wasn't worth watching, and Roger was hitting 2 extra shots that didn't matter since they were after 154 games.
That's the thing about the movie. It makes you want to understand why the media of that day went out of their way to kill the potential idol of the day. It makes you want to go to Fargo and pay respects to the man. It reminds you of why we play the game and live our lives strong. It tells the life of Roger Maris in a way that showcases the season of change for all of us.
Thanks Billy! Great movie

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.

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.

Mark Reynolds

In case there is any feeling that I loathe Ryan Howard above all other players, let me dispel that rumor. Sure, I feel that $25million for 5 years + enough extra for a 6th year to take it just under $140million for the package is ridiculous and laughable, but that doesn't constitute hatred. Sure, I laugh when he whiffs and I feel that sitting him out from time to time to not hit 200 strikeouts in a year (for that reason, I'm not impressed with Adam Dunn either), but that doesn't constitute loathing of a player.
Loathing is something special - Barry Bonds in 2001 was loathing. Ken Griffey Jr. as the opponent in 1998 wasn't loathing (though I came close to wanting it to be), but it bubbled under feeling that way until he vanished from the chase for Maris altogether. Albert Belle until his retirement was loathing. Pretty much the entire Yankee roster until they choked in 2004 (GREATEST CHOKE EVER) was loath-able. Hell, many of them still are, but fortunately, the worst have gone the way of the dodo bird.
Now, the hatred is reserved for Mark Reynolds and his mighty swings at... nothing.
According to the guys at MLB-TV, if he didn't sit out from time to time, he could not hit ball 300 times a year. Last year, he came to bat 499 times. He whiffed 211 times. That sucks.
In full seasons from 1921 to 1933 (and 70 at bats in 1920), Joe Sewell struck out 114 times. His career average was .312. In just under 8000 career at bats, Lloyd Waner whiffed 173 times from 1927 to 1945. That's it. Even as recently as 1948, Lou Boudreau only struck out 9 times in a season (560 at bats, .355 average). For him, it was "all future and no past."
For Mark Reynolds, the entire career of Joe DiMaggio from 1936 to 1951 (minus WW2) yielded 369 whiffs. For Reynolds, that isn't even 2 full seasons. Yogi Berra may sound like an idiot with some of his quotes, but from 1946 to 1964, he struck out 414 times. That includes 3 times in his last 9 at bats when he finally called it quits in 1965 as he was well past his prime. In his last 7 at bats, Reynolds struck out 5 times. He also sat 5 full games and came in to pinch hit in another game. There, he walked.
The Diamondbacks shipped him to Baltimore for 2 players after they signed him to a $14.5 million 3-year extension. That gives him $5million this season to shoot for the stars and whiff the incredible total of 250+ times (if Buck Showalter doesn't choke him out first).
MLB TV calls him the 7th best player on the hot corner. I think they're smoking crack.
Yep...
We've reached critical mass in baseball on whiffs. Reynolds hit .198 for the year. His 32 homers and 85 RBIs led his team into last place (65-97) in a relatively competitive division.
He's not alone in his futility. Carlos Pena was also sub .200 with 150+ Ks - albeit for a winning team (the Rays). At least they're home run hitters - for what that's worth. BJ Upton and Austin Jackson can't say that for their major whiffs.
So yeah... Houston... we've got a problem. Too many strikeouts. It's gotta go. I don't care what the statisticians say. This is just futility.