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).

David Wright

This blog is pretty much dedicated to a few things... the players that we like, the events that happen, and who's striking out WAY too much. For that, we start our series of batting futility with the joy of math.
If we take the top 12 strikeout victims (down to the 4th slot on this list - tied for 8th place), we have 4 batters who have whiffed so much that their average is under .200. The high water mark is 31 air conditioner swings. Ryan Raburn has 3 jacks to go with those 31 Ks. Over his years in the bigs, he has 42 homers. If he continues at his current pace, he will DOUBLE his career strikeouts. Dexter Fowler has no shots over the wall in a batter friendly park for this year, and if that doesn't scream no power, he only has 10 home runs in his short career (however, he does take walks and steal bases).
Jack Cust, Kelly Johnson, Austin Jackson, and Adam Dunn are all sub-Mendoza, and Ryan Howard leads the batting average with a .293.
Only David Wright, Drew Stubbs, and Ryan Howard have hit 5 or more home runs for all of their free swinging. For that matter, Adam Dunn only has 2 jacks.
If we take this out to 42nd place (22 strikeouts), we can see a pattern emerge: a high batting average and lots of home runs are the outliers.
There are 3 success stories on the list (Rickie Weeks - .309 despite 22 whiffs, Matt Kemp - .378 despite 23 whiffs, and Peter Bourjos - .318 with 26 jacks). There are 12 sub .200 hitters. If we take the Mendoza Line out to .225 (as some do), there are 8 more guys on the list. That's half of the batters being unproductive 80% (give or take) of the time! Many more could join the list with a few more Ks and a few less hits. What does this say?
Only 13 of the 42 batters have 5 or more home runs, and none of these guys has more than 6 (7) long balls (Chris Young - with 105 career jacks in 651 games played). Then again, when you're playing for a team that is out of the playoffs in March (Arizona), you can pretty much do whatever you want in a non-contending year (if homers and homers alone sells bobble heads and jerseys).
Mark "the King" Reynolds makes the list at 29 (2 homers to show for his 23 put outs by catcher). That said, this is a good year for him.
But what does it really mean to be standing there and caught looking... to not advance the runner... to not put oneself on base... to essentially waste an at bat in hopes of the 1/30 chance of a home run (or in the case of Young, 7/97)? All in all, it's futility. It's playing a game because you still believe that chicks dig the long ball when it should be played to bring the runs across and win the game for your team. Maris was willing to bunt to give his team the chance to win when the home run record was on the line in 61... why aren't these guys willing to play team ball?

Tomorrow, we look at the pitching stats that show how much the pitchers of today are benefiting from the "swing away" mentality that Merrill and Graham gave to the world.

Joe Torre

When one does poorly, there is a certain demeaner that they should take - want to do better and not screw up so badly the next time. However, Manny Ramirez's remark that "he likes it" begs to differ with the philosophy, and all things considered, it is "Manny being Manny" - i.e. a complete idiot who needs his unconditional release for the purpose of waivers / psychiatric counseling. To be honest, he can live off his last couple contracts for a while. And since Bleacher Report is offering a list of the top 50 most over-rated people, what better way to start with than a guy who doesn't deserve a 5th chance (AT LEAST 2 from Boston, 1 from LA, 1 from Chicago, and now 1 from Tampa Bay), and to think that he does is saying A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT MORE ABOUT 1995 TO 2004 THAN THE REST OF HIS CAREER THAT ISN'T THE LAST 187 AT BATS OF 2008. Most of the list should be called 3 things - Yankees, Red Sox, and steroids users - oh my! On the list is some pretty standard fare on the bigger contract and "value" to the team than actual productivity: Hideo Nomo, Alfonso Soriano, Vernon Wells, and Barry Zito (minus his teddie bear). But there are some pretty confusing choices, too: Cliff Lee, Brooks Robinson, Lou Brock, Ozzie Smith, and Pete Rose, a man who played the game to win obsessively, but who is slighted for being ONLY a hitter in the same way that they call Nolan Ryan only a strikeout pitcher who threw a lot of walks. In this, we can only say one thing - "If Rose's stubborness to never give up and keep playing until he ran out of gas completely is wrong, then I don't want to be right. Didn't Cal Ripken never give up his streak until it was incredibly late in his career? The Orioles had been in the toilet and have been since he refused to make room for a new guy - because Baltimore loved him that much. But alas... the point of lists is to debate, so I debate with two of their choices. The first question would be how Roger Maris is considered over-rated for two good seasons despite the folks at Bleacher Report forgetting his 1960 MVP Award. Perhaps, from their narrow minded judgements of remembering what parts of baseball history that they choose to see, they should remember how the New York media did their damnedest to destroy the man who failed to live up to being Babe Ruth. Now, we are Maris apologists here - because we realize what he was to the game: a hard working player who didn't have time for the cliches and short talk. He may not have been as charismatic and lovable as Mickey Mantle, but he brought a tremendous upside - even if he never did hit .300. And for that, he was very good. He wasn't great. We don't claim he was. I can't do that revisionist history thing, but at the end of the day, his season in 1961 will stand as the only home run season to eclipse Ruth's - without aid of PEDs. And then, there is Joe Torre. Now, I'm a Yankee hater, but I do love the books Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty by Buster Olney and The Yankee Years by Tom Verducci. Both of them accurately depict an era of time that I came to loathe as I grinded my teeth to the thought of the Yankees winning again and again (I wasn't vested in 96, but the Padres, the Mets, and the Braves all had to have something to beat the Yankees... and when they didn't... thank God for 2001 and the DBacks, which led into the Angels, the Marlins, and that miracle Red Sox run in 04 before the collapse that led to teams like Detroit and Cleveland beating the Yankees. I used to hate Torre. I used to hate his look as he sat in the dugout waiting for something good to happen or to pull the hook on Chin Mein Wang, someone who is TRULY over-rated (but not on the list), but after I read that book, everything changed. There was something about the way that guys like Jeter and Mussina rallied the troops for the coach, a guy who wasn't even wanted in New York due to the fact that he couldn't get his other teams to gel. But that's leadership. Sometimes, being in the right place for the right people is all that matters. Call it a facet of Gladwell's book Outliers, but could anyone else have had the right training, the right manner, the right respect from his young troops that he built confidence in with any of the same talent that Torre used to get it done? Was he the best manager ever? Probably not, but then again, Larussa and Francona are far more over-rated than Torre and they're on teams that I like. In the end, he was run out of town by the extended Steinbrenner family, but for what he did for that time, we all hope that we can get the troops to come together and win 4 of 5 and almost 2 more. That's dominance beyond the players he did and didn't have (since really, only Jeter and Rivera are hall of famers on that team). If that makes the list of Yankees that I loathed for the better part of my adult life over-rated, so be it, but I have to believe that a leader brings the best out of his players, and for him to do that, and for me to spend my life hating the Yankees... I don't fear what isn't real.

Babe Ruth

At the risk of being the weirdest baseball fan of all time, let it be known that I NEVER liked Babe Ruth. Not that I'm much faster than Jeremy Giambi in the 40 yard dash, but let's just say, I would have slid - however clumsily - rather than be faced with the dubious distinction of having an out of position Derek Jeter throwing me out at home. Never, never, never.
And the A's would have gone on to the World Series INSTEAD OF PULLING DEFEAT FROM THE JAWS OF VICTORY AGAIN. Why couldn't they have just listened to Jason Giambi when he screamed at Miguel Tejada for being a slacker bum? The future was theirs, but the ghosts... the ghosts do it every time.
And the ghosts are Babe Ruth.
If you're a Red Sox fan, you know.
Here was a man who won 94 games and had a 2.28 ERA. He didn't have a lot of strikeouts, but he did pitch exceptionally from 1914 to 1919. Four other years, he pitched at least once, and he wasn't bad. He wasn't great, but hell, he did what he had to do.
Other than the 20 home runs that he hit before 1919 and the 6 in his last season, he went on to hit 688 home runs over 16 seasons. This includes 1925's dismal campaign that saw the mighty Babe for the self serving hedonistic slug that he had become. However, he came back bigger and better than ever. His next years' totals were 47, 60, 54, 46, 49, and 46. That's positively sick and does a lot to make up for the fact that the last 3 home runs that he ever hit for the Boston Braves in 1935 made him look like a Molina brother on way too much Burger King food.
But the Boston Braves are not the Boston Red Sox, and when Boston gave up their great pitcher / slugger to bankroll No, No, Nanette, by Harry Frazee (originally known as My Lady Friends). Dan Shaughnessey of The Boston Globe then took this to put the nail in the coffin of the city's baseball team since apparently, something had to be stopping the team from winning a pennant since 1918 (other than lack of quality pitching).
But that's not why I don't like Babe Ruth.
If you wanted the truth, the asterisk given to Roger Maris for daring to overcome Babe Ruth's treasured record of home runs in a single season has more to do with it than anything, but there is something in being the Michael Jordan of his field before Michael even was a candy bar in his dad's back pocket that sums it up. It's not hating greatness. It's just wondering what all the hype and hooplah means to the grand scale of the player.
Sure, Ruth was great, but that doesn't mean I'm wearing his jersey.
Lou Gehrig lived in his shadow for years and years of being true class and workmanship excellence, and he was the luckiest man to ever live. I agree with that if you take me out of the question since being married to my wife leaves me really lucky as well.
But Babe Ruth and his crown and his curses. It's all to much like Metroman for me.
Call me Will Ferrell in Megamind, but perhaps the existential reality of not being able to measure up to all of that greatness (what greatness is that? Brad Pitt?!!) has left me in a quandry. In that, Megamind is the story of all Red Sox fans who ever lived (without getting to hook up with a cartoon Tina Fey in ultra tight top at the end).
For years, we waited for a home run in extra innings or a pitcher left in too long by a manager who just doesn't get the city's need for victory. We watch home runs just stay fair, and we still lose. We get crushed by dominant pitchers hitting home runs in games that matter. We lose our young players to injuries or defecting to the Yankees after asking out of the clutch game early. We watch an old hobbled player left in the game so that a ground out can be a game winning hit that dashes the next night's hopes, too.
We win it all, coming back from the biggest deficit ever. We beat our nemesises in 7 and sweep the World Series. But still we wait for the sky to fall. We're not supposed to win. This was a fluke. But then, we come back 3 years later, and we win again, and it's like Will Ferrell and Tina Fey talking to the statue of Brad Pitt, wondering all the while, what do we do now. You're gone. What is our place in this world. Without the curse, we're nothing... well, we're all too many hats and shirts and fair weather fans. Hell, we're not even real hats. We're pink hats and hip colors.
That's not baseball.
What is the meaning of life if we're not the lovable losers? And if we're not the lovable losers, then who is? The Chicago Cubs? Sadly, with the team they're playing with, they'd simply be the Jonah Hill character (Tighten): an over-exaggerated burst of nothing much played into believing that it's better than it should be.
But that said, are the Red Sox with the cast of free agents who are playing for them now anything more than the Evil Empire North that they railed so harshly against when bloody socks, idiots, and "Cowboy Up-ing" was the answer to life?
What is the existential meaning of all of this?
Why is the word existential in a baseball column - much less a kid's movie?
I blame Babe Ruth - or at least Dan Shaughnessey.

Harold Reynolds

America is a land of second chances. From 1983 to 1994, Harold Reynolds wasn't an offensive threat at all. His 21 home runs from the second sack weren't anything to write home about. Hell, Ryne Sandberg had more home runs in a season during 6 of his years in the pros than Reynolds had total, and considering that he was the new face of second base (before Utley, Cano, and Soriano showed just how much power one could have from that position), Mr. Reynolds was just rapidly decelerating into career ending lack of productivity. All the same, he did have 60 stolen bases in his best year, but as a whole, he was what he was - average and his batting average of .258 for a career proved just that.
Nevertheless, he became a face for baseball because he went on to be a baseball guy for ESPN Baseball Tonight, and in that, he was always knowledgeable and interesting. However, after nearly a decade, he was canned from ESPN for hugging a female intern, which was considered offensive and sexual harassment when 3 weeks later, she said something about the hug and the dinner afterward. Maybe it was because she was white and he was black. Maybe he didn't return her further advances or maybe she just didn't hit it off with him. Either way, ESPN was not happy.
Later that year, he filed suit and won against his former network in that they settled the money he had asked for, and eventually, he went his way until MLBTV picked him up, which is unlike Steve Phillips, also an ESPN guy canned for issues that he had while being in a bizarre love triangle (cue New Order). There began the 3rd chance for Mr. Reynolds.
Now, Reynolds is on the air daily with Billy Ripken (the least of the Ripkens), Dan Plesac, and Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams (getting another second chance for himself after becoming Joe Carter's monkey boy and the most hated figure in Philadelphia history this side of JD Drew and Santa Claus). Together, they're disseminating what can only be described as "porn" since the constant baseball images on MLBTV are not only addictive and a guilty pleasure when I should be working or being productive on my days off, but a constant opportunity to gawk at the money shot home runs and defensive gems. I get to skip to the best parts of the greatest arguments, relive the memories past of glory that is missing from my life in this cold, nasty winter as I wait for life to come back to a former glory. Somehow, the images of the past and a past never seen have become my substitute for a daily life.
Not that I'm complaining. The countdowns are incredible and the Bob Costas interviews are enlightening me to all that is the grandeur of baseball. While they play the old Ken Burns Baseball stuff (I have this on DVD - it's the Vivid Entertainment of baseball), they haven't gotten to the new stuff yet. Someday, I'm sure they will, and I'll be able to record it rather than having to pay for the DVD just yet. On really good days, there are things on there like the entire game of Bill Mazeroski's home run to beat the Yankees and make Mickey and Roger cry.
If only MLBTV reached out to the world with their history (through Youtube), there would be a generation of baseball converts, but unfortunately, the already converted will be the only ones to relish in this greatness of a past world that can no longer be - at least until baseball becomes a game instead of a business.
Nevertheless, the hot stove is always burning - at least until my wife gets home and we watch "acceptable" television together.

Albert Belle

In honor of Donny Tobolski, it's time to announce all of the baseball people that qualify as "a fat ass who should stop eating fast food, and is a douche bag." See, it's my Constitutional right to let them know how much they suck, and if they disagree, I'll just get my mom to defend me because I don't deserve to have consequences like suspension marring my future because I'm just an id driven kid that can't be held accountable for what I do.
I'd probably start with Cap Anson since he was responsible for the gentleman's agreement. However, he's not a fat ass. He has 3,435 hit and over 2,000 RBIs, so he's an accomplished athlete, it's just that he has some serious racist issues with including all people. If Dale Carnegie sat down with him and told him how to win friends and influence people, he might be OK, but we'll never know since he's dead.
Now, there are a lot of people that dislike George Steinbrenner as well, but see, here's the things: 1) he made for good humor on Seinfeld as George Costanza's boss, and 2) he may have tried to get the Yankees to win at all costs (ask Dave Winfield and ask those who benefited from Yankee revenue sharing), but he did bring Roger Maris back to the game. To a lot of Boston Red Sox fans, he might be the Evil Empire, but he rescued Maris from Baseball Purgatory, so that's not a fat ass douche bag action.
Albert Belle really was a jerk, but he was a self-admitted "angry black man." Does this sound like an apology, a realization, or a call to be instated in Cooperstown? Steroids accusations, stalking his ex-girlfriend after placing a tracking device on her car and threatening her, chasing kids that were egging his house off his property in an SUV, corked bats, almost ending Fernando Vina with a hard slide, and just being an all purpose thug. In short, he was the talented version of the Devil Rays and Nationals' Elijah Dukes. With that said, are they and guys like Gary Sheffield really jerks or just a product of their environment? That said, if we're name calling, should we stick with fat ass douche bags or is there a more proper name to use? After all, it should be the responsibility of the person doing the name calling to at least accurately describe said person.
For Tolbolski, fat ass douche bag was simply a tag for someone who gave too much homework. Was that really accurate or fair? Just because his teacher could have a weight problem, is that reason enough to hone in on his obesity? Shouldn't we be focusing on people first language?
Sure, we hammer Ryan Howard and King Whiff Mark Reynolds for their frequent strikeouts, but that is addressing a problem with their job performance, something that is objective and something that they get paid a lot of money not to do. We may feel that Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are soon going to be getting their prostates examined in the pokey, but was that their doing or ours? In some respects, we blame this as much on a reckless federal government that chooses to prosecute for former players for steroids instead of going after terrorists. And on the subject of terrorists, we may find a picture of Osama Bin Laden wearing a Yankee symbol on his turban as fun (thus equating that many unsavory characters like the Yankees), but let's be honest... it's a proven fact that people should run if they see a person in Yankees attire coming up to them in the dark, but don't believe me... believe the New York Times article!
Nevertheless, it's easy in Blog Land to get caught up in dishing hate on specific people by name. We have that privilege as bloggers, and we have a responsibility to make sure that we're objective and not ranting on real life things that can hurt our lives because we stopped being the professionals we are supposed to be in our real lives. In the end, that's what it's really about - even if athletes, entertainers, and politicians give us such fodder to attack them for (and New York Times v. Sullivan gives us the right), there is still a feeling that there are lines we should be able to protect ourselves from if people cross them. Just ask Tony Larussa. Whether it would have won in a court of law before Twitter made nice, one wonders, but alas... it's a brave new world of hatred and vile comments we can make.
In this, let's hope that we can always stay as professional as we need to.

Jack Frye

I've lived most of my life in the Reading, Pennsylvania, area (ranked #21 worst city overall in 2007), but fortunately, now I live 30 minutes from the city in what I like to refer to as Amish Paradise. It's a lot quieter out here for the most part, and that's a good thing.
Reading has really gone to seed in the past twenty or so years. I don't remember going downtown as a kid before going into the military, but after I came back from the Air Force in 1996, it just wasn't pretty. Now, it's a necessity for somethings, but mostly, I just stay on the edge of town where I need to be and am thankful that I don't have to live downtown.
However, we do have a couple of claims to fame. First and foremost is the Pagoda, which still looms as something to see. Despite the fact that they're still frequented, the outlets that once drew people in are now dime a dozen and spread out across the country, so it's not like they're that big of a deal. We have hockey now - the Reading Royals, and we've had baseball for quite some time. In fact, we're Baseballtown based on the strength of the Reading Phillies and their infinite promotions, which isn't such a bad thing because baseball is good and hopefully it gets kids hooked - even if they have to see baseball as something that comes with between innings games and cheering along when the scoreboard or the playing of Blur's "Song 2" tells them to. Thus, if one wants to fight with traffic for a good game and better fireworks, Reading is the place to be. Roger Maris even played here when he was an Indians minor league player.
However, back in the day, way back when (1883 to be exact), Jack Frye was the 2nd African American to ever play in organized ball. Of course, we all know that Moses Fleetwood Walker was first, but alas... many people don't know the silver medalist, but in this case, he was a catcher, pitcher, first basemen, and outfielder who played for 5 different teams up until 1891 in various cities in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Reading was his first stop.
That said, in looking through a lot of different sites, it's hard to find that much information on the league and the team... at least at the point where Jack played. Nevertheless, as it was included in Shades of Glory, a National Geographic book on the Negro Leagues, I would say that it's pretty true and reliable. Thus, there seems to be a new relic to search out as the story of baseball by me goes on and on.

Derek Jeter

Back in the day, I never got Will Ferrell. He was the moron who did Saturday Night Live skits like the cheerleaders and the lovers, and I just found him to be horribly annoying. I saw Old School when it first came out and I didn't like it at all, but in hindsight, I was just on a really bad Match Dot Com date, and I have since watched it again and again, and I really liked it, but that was a gap in time, and I'm getting ahead of myself. Before that and somewhere in being made to watch Anchorman twice, I found some of it amusing, but by the end, I was bored again, and I refused to watch him for the longest time.
Then, I met my wife and she made me watch Elf, which may be the greatest Christmas movie ever. Christmas is finally here when I get to watch Buddy the Elf make his way to New York City to find his dad and have snowball fights and Christmas decorating extravaganzas and shower room singing with Zooey Deschanel (and who doesn't want that?).
Megamind, which was the best animation movie of 2010 - easily - featured the existential dilemma of being an arch villain to Brad Pitt's Metroman, who ended up not being able to be a villain because his dastardly plans to kill him finally succeeded. Somehow, he fell in love with Tina Fey's Roxanne Ritchie who fell back in love with him and got loved by the world after he defeated Jonah Hill (is that guy everywhere, or is it me?). As a lover of animated and PIXAR movies, I have to say I was rolling on the floor more than the bevy of nieces and nephews that we took to the movies that day.
And there are good movies and there are animated voices and there are bit parts and there are movies that are phoned in, and perhaps nowhere is that more noticeable than in The Other Guys, which also stars Mark Wahlberg, a great actor who also phones in the movie - save the part with Derek Jeter. If you don't want the part given away, read no further, but to see the cameo of Wahlberg as a former superstar cop being groomed for homicide who now rides a desk because he shot Jeter in a dark hallway before Game 7 of the World Series is perhaps the funniest scene imaginable. Afterward, the running gag of Wahlberg having shot Jeter and how that plays out is more than enough to make the movie worth your while, but it just isn't something worth owning.
That being said, once again, Derek Jeter, the hated Yankee that he is, plays his personality and star perfectly and does nothing wrong ("he's a bi-racial angel") unlike his arch nemesis on his right side of the infield ("it should have been A-Rod") stands as the potential of all things that a sports star can be - especially in New York.
After reading how Roger Maris was treated during his playing career and the majority of his life until George Steinbrenner of all people made every sincere gesture of respect and resuscitation to pull Maris out of the obscure doghouse of the past to bring him to Yankee Stadium and Monument Park, where he belonged is quite a powerful image. Jeter was handled perfectly and he handled himself perfectly.
For as much as I hate the Yankees (and I do), I find it harder and harder to hate Jeter - especially after he took that shot to the face catching the foul ball that beat the Red Sox in a meaningless all or nothing mid summer "classic." Sure, I'll hate on him in the playoffs, but I have had him on my fantasy team. Is that me going soft? Is it something only marriage could do? Marrying my wife still wouldn't have me wear a Yankees hat or shirt. Hell, I'd rather fall down a flight of stairs than ever go through that horrible scenario, but alas... I digress.
Somewhere in the image of Jeter rolling on the tunnel floor and calling Mark Wahlberg a dick, there is a hilarious moment that represents this generation of baseball perfectly. Who would have thought that all it would take to make it happen was a Will Ferrell movie?

Roger Maris

Waking up yesterday morning to a story in the New York Times about how the U.S. and Israel worked together to release a worm into the Iranian nuclear program so that it couldn't get up and running has me contemplating exactly what is the point of the media. On one hand, I have to ask myself if this is something above "no duh." I mean really. Why on Earth WOULD WE NOT try to take out a hostile country's nuclear program that could hurt us or our friends? On the other hand, I have to ask myself if this is about some kind of attack on the U.S. as a whole. I mean, if this is top secret, and we'll assume that it is, what business does this have playing out in the media?
But alas, this is a baseball site, not a political outlet, and I use media attacks to lead into Roger Maris and the transition from the media loving players to attacking them viciously. Sure, there was Ted Williams before him, but was there ever an attack as concentrated and individually damaging as that, which was perpetrated against Roger for being "boring" (at least compared to Babe Ruth) and unable to stomach stupid questions (considering many NASCAR guys give the same kind of F U response as Roger and Cee Lo Green) and just unwilling to provide a day in day out story while pursuing the home run record that he was deemed unworthy of.
Currently, I am reading Roger Maris: Baseball's Reluctant Hero, and overall, it's pretty good. You can skip the first few chapters about how his grandparents moved to America from Europe and how his parents relationship started out in dysfunction (it ends in divorce - so it goes) and start about 30 pages into the book at chapter 4.
I've always been a Roger Maris fan since I first heard his story in 1998 as Mark McGwire pursued his record. It was sad to hear about the asterisk and the total devastation of what should have been a joyous race between Maris and Mantle (who had been hated in many circles for not being Joe DiMaggio - at least until Roger came along). Maybe the media made up for this with the race between McGwire and Sosa (and maybe the Curse of Not Being Babe Ruth made the media feel inclined to destroy them and everyone else who got close to Babe Ruth in a way that wasn't worthy - steroids be just a cover story).
But in the end, Roger took a pitch deep on the final day of the season and was branded forever with the asterisk that was there despite it's never been typed into the official record books and for 37 years he suffered in pain despite a momentary stay with the St. Louis Cardinals in 67 and 68. He then retired and died in 1985, a tragic end to a great human being. I wish I would have known his story sooner, but the fact that I do is a story I will continue to tell throughout the course of this blog.
I would recommend this book to anyone who likes Maris or baseball. I've been reading it nightly in sight of a teddy bear that belongs to my wife. More than anything else, that bear reminds me of her, and when I think about it and her, I think about how wonderful she is to me. For our wedding, she knew that gifts are given between husband and wife (I didn't, so if you're reading, take note), and she gave me the Roger Maris PSA8 rookie that I always joked she would buy me if she truly loved me. When I took it out of the box, I was shaking, and I had no idea what to say. I felt like such a fool for not knowing that I had to get her a gift as well (we ended up putting a lot of money towards the things that she wanted for our home that we bought a few months later). I ran all over Toledo looking for something worthy of her and feeling totally freaked out on the night before our wedding.
Even now, I don't know if I feel worthy of such a great gift. I'll occasionally open the locked box and pull Roger out of his protective cloth bag - not all the way mind you - and look on his visage and think of all that his family went through in 98, all that he went through from 1961 until he left baseball a completely broken man, and how his wife came through for him above and beyond the call of duty (something completely left out of Tom Clavin and Danny Peary's aforementioned book).
Maybe Roger was the best way to give me a physical gift that came through to me, but to be honest, nowhere am I happier in the gift I was given than the "I do." And perhaps that's hokey, but alas... it is what makes me happy in life.
And that thought and her presence is what keeps me from feeling the news of the world in a way that makes me sad as I wait for spring and new life and no more snow - just warmth and good times.

Trevor Hoffman

Oh, how the once mighty have fallen and left the game. Carrie Fisher began Star Wars as an ear muff hair cut having sweet little princess with a bad attitude standing up to the greatest villain in the galaxy. When it was over, she was wearing the metal bikini and kicking ass as a Jedi Knight, her real father and mother having been revealed. In between, she hooked up with Harrison Ford's Han Solo and found true love on Endor beside the Ewoks and Wookies.
Now, she's 75 pounds heavier and the new face of Jennie Craig.
And that's what life is. I've put 75 extra pounds on my frame too, and like Carrie, I dream about the future as I contemplate the gym that I will go to later today. That's life. Making up for the things that went wrong and moving to the future.
I can imagine that Trevor Hoffman feels much the same way as he goes into retirement. Sure, there are 601 saves to his total, but I have to say the same thing many baseball columnists have said - saves are over-rated. It's not like Rollie Fingers coming in for half of a game in the middle of a game. It's not Hoyt Willhelm's knuckle ball being called in to end Roger Maris's dreams.
In 6 years of post season appearances, Hoffman has 4 saves and a 3.46 ERA. That's not clutch. It's like Casey McGehee, his teammate said, “Sometimes he appears to be Superman. Hoffy’s human, too.” However, McGehee was defending his teammate who was imploding during the beginning of his final season.
Yet, this is the guy that crapped the bed for the Padres in 07 - blowing a 3-run lead in the 13th inning to send the Rockies - not the Padres - to the playoffs. Clutch.
"Hells Bells" to the pitching mound, he had to do something to make the pros after failing as a shortstop, consistently over-throwing first base, and he did well for the most part. In 5 All Star Games, he let up 6 runs. Slamming the door shut. In 1998, he let up a big fly to Scott Brosius and made Tony Gwynn angry since he was going to go to his retirement with no ring. He was already upset - remember, the moonshot off the upper deck from a guy who only ever hit 135 home runs in 3,141 successful hits.
I'll be honest... every time I saw Hoffman in a big game, it was as if he was folding like it was laundry day in my house. Not good at all. If you look through my past posts, you'll see how much I've downplayed relievers. Take a few good years from your young closer with a fierce attitude and don't pay big unless he can do multiple innings saves in the playoffs with a sub 1.00 WHIP and a 0.00 ERA (or damn near close to it). Other than that, these modern closers better be coming in and shutting the door.
I tell my wife often that when we have a kid, we'll be teaching him to throw left-handed since there is big money for a situational southpaw reliever. Now, more than ever, I believe that (barring the fact that he can't get even bigger money to be a left-handed starter).
Something about this post being done 2 days after the announcement says anti-climactic in the same way that most of his career does. Sure, the number is impressive, but numbers aren't everything. Quality not quantity. More is not better.
That said, good luck with the future Trevor, you're definitely a gamer... you're just not worthy of Cooperstown.