The snow has finished falling and minds turn to things that seem to matter in the moment - shoveling snow, which I'm procrastinating. For many people, after this will be useless entertainment news, but then again, isn't baseball meaningless entertainment news? It sure beats giving oneself an ulcer and a dose of extra hate thinking about breaking Randy Johnson to throw a 95 mile per hour fastball at Fred Phelps and his family (as if they were some bird just cruising through). But now that Arizona has decided that it needs to continue to be the forward thinking state and protect funerals from schizophrenic hate rants filled with anti-gay sentiment and death to America rhetoric, we can hopefully bring this funeral protesting nonsense to an end - even if it will take arresting the Phelps family and bringing the decision to the Supreme Court. As William Howard Taft once said, there are limits to freedom of speech, and with all forms of speech, academic, political, or blogging random thoughts, there are consequences. If it takes the biker gangs protecting the family of Christina Taylor Green from having to deal with the same thing that families of dead military members, Amish children, space shuttle victims, and various other "heathens" have had to endure, the time is coming to stop pretending this is about free speech. But alas, it's easy to support unpopular causes when it's politically correct to wrap our bodies in the Constitution like it was some kind of all purpose Teflon shield. When some would choose to care about everything and in effect care about nothing in their causes, we instead wonder how any sane minded person could condone this continued horror for the families of any tragedy, we instead look for the a "something good" to take us away from this need for hatred and misinterpretation of holy books to find something good, something that we can get behind.
And for the media, that's Ted Williams.
No, not the Ted Williams who hit .406 in 1941 and .388 in 1957. It's not the Ted Williams who gave up parts of 5 seasons to military service in Korea and World War 2. It's not the dedicated Marine who crashed his plane, but survived to come back and hit 521 home runs over his career (and only strike out 709 times - since 2007, Whiff King Mark Reynolds has failed in that way 767 times). While this Ted might not have a head attached to his corpse anymore and he only has 2,654 hits, he did give up 5 prime seasons to World War 2. If you add in 900 hits (conservatively), where does that put him on the list?
And if you brought that Ted back today, you know he would be swearing up a blue streak thinking that Ted Williams, the homeless voice is currently more searched on Google than the real Ted Williams. Ted would be even angrier at his namesake for usurping his rightful place in fame as the greatest hitter ever than he was at the press and some of his teammates who painted him negatively.
But alas, the world is a strange place and fame is fleeting. That's why the lesser Ted Williams has already been detained for fighting with his daughter (1 of 9 kids - mind you only 5 are willing to reunite with him in his time of macaroni and cheese voice-overs and Dr. Phil appearances). Will he get the full 15 minutes? Will he stay sober? Will he return to a life of petty crime?
All I know is that I've never watched the You Tube video - even when it first came out and it went viral (and all I could think of was some kind of exploitation - worse than the REAL Ted Williams' son exploited his father for autographs on memorabilia and hat wearing episodes at the 1999 All Star Game at Fenway).
It's a sad, sad world, but yeah... it's still early in the year, and we still need our diversions.
The real world is just too scary and it's nice that we can all feel good about someone getting his / her life together again.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Ryan Howard
If it's winter, it's definitely time to be fanning the coals and keeping the warmth of the baseball season alive. There's just about nobody left on the free agency list, at least that is young and viable and capable of playing regularly without the worry of the disabled list, so thoughts turn to players who might go free agent next year - like Albert Pujols.When Ryan Howard got a contract for $125million for 5 years to be the Whiff Prince (Mad Mark Reynolds being the undisputed king), one could only imagine how much Pujols would get.
We wonder too. Pujols is great. Howard is a mirage, but I'd still take his garden gnome for my baseball shelf.
Last off season, one of the more interesting trade discussions was the rumor of the Philadelphia Phillies looking internally and contemplating getting rid of Ryan Howard for Albert Pujols. As 1 of 5 teams that could afford him at the time (New York x2, Boston, Philadelphia, Anaheim), if St. Louis decides that they can’t and or shouldn't join the club (which would be galactically stupid), Philadelphia saw what I’ve seen all along: Ryan Howard, while seemingly a nice guy that you wouldn’t mind hanging out with, is a strikeout machine and a post season albatross.
His play against the Yankees two years ago combined with his playoff experience last year solidifies his worthlessness as a ballplayer. In 1999, while he hit 3 homers against Tampa Bay, he struck out 9 times against the overachieving Devil Rays. Last year, he hit one meaningless game 6 homerun and struck out 13 times when the series still had a chance to go Philadelphia’s way. In short, the hole in his swing is so big that we could fit the Liberty Bell in there and still have room left over. The past 2 years, he has 199 strikeouts in each year! In 19 years, Yogi Berra has 414 strikeouts. One year, he came to bat 597 times and only struck out 12 times. That same year (1950), he knocked in 124 runs. Ryan Howard put through 141 runs, which is a good number, but if he didn’t whiff as much, he could knock in more runs considering Rollins, Victorino, and Utley do get on board a tad bit.
Last year, the average was there, but they were all worthless hits that didn't do more than get a double. In 33 at bats, he had 10 hits, of which 4 were doubles. He had no RBIs. He had 17 strikeouts. He's a slug of enormous proportions, Rob Deer with a personality and a built in jersey buying fan club that wants to believe, but I never will. As the Phillies stack pitching at the front end, they have nothing for clutch and only Howard, who the other teams can pitch around or find his holes as they wait out the pitch counts on Halladay, Lee, Oswalt, and Hamels in order to get to the emotionally fragile Brad Lidge for the win. People talk about the Phillies getting to the World Series, but without offense, I see nothing but heartbreaking Walter Johnson style losses.
As for Albert, the man is a machine, especially with protection (Halladay) in the lineup. In his first at bat last year, he took Aaron Haraang deep and solidified what should have been a solid season for the redbirds, but sadly, they phoned in the show and handed the division to the Reds. The Cardinals were and are just that good. Chris Carpenter and Adam Wainwright are dealing yearly and Matt Holliday is being paid, so here’s to another division title. To get 200 strikeouts on Albert, you would have to go back to the end of 2007. In that time, the man has hit .327 twice and .357 once. If you’re including the whole 2006 season, you can see that Pujols hit .331. If you include last year's down season of .312 (same 100 runs, 100 RBIs, 30 home runs PLUS in all categories), he's still solid and then some. While he didn’t get some of the RBIs that Howard got, he also didn’t have much in the batting order in front of him. Even in swinging for the fences, he's far more reliable than Mighty Ryan.
So let’s see… would I want to trade Mighty Ryan for Phat Albert? Would I want to trade my Red Sox jerseys for Yankees ones?
Didn’t think so.
Gotta love the hot stove and thoughts of locking Pujols up with incentives for the next 10 with a contract that dwarfs Alex Rodriguez and his blue lips as Albert primes to take over the all time home run lead from Barry once and for all.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Dallas Green
People count on baseball for all of the good things in life. Sure, there are incidents that are horrible and ugly with spitters, fighters, and cursing up a blue streak, but baseball is a sport that matters because it doesn't matter. It's not politics; right, left or in between. It's not a give and take relationship. It just gives and you either accept what it gives you or you mope. It has a history that is all its own. Nobody questions it that much and contemplates ulterior motives on it that much (save excluding African Americans, collusion, and strikes that need to be handled by larger than life authorities).
When baseball is at its best, George Bush is throwing a strike over the center of the plate and Mike Piazza is bringing the city of New York back to life. When America needs to heal, there is baseball. For this, we love it.
All the same, sometimes, baseball loses its players in horrific and tragic ways. For these times, we cry, but usually, we don't see these things.
Nevertheless, when the world cries and baseball cries, too, then we know that there is something wrong in the world.
And it is at times when Dallas Green, the former manager of the 1980 World Champion Phillies loses a grand daughter (Christina-Taylor Green) as part of the shooting that seriously wounded Gabrielle Giffords and many of her staff members and people present at a town hall rally AS WELL AS killing 5 other people, we all mourn.
The whack jobs from both sides making their noise... either in terms of gunshots fired or claims that anyone who joins the Tea Party is this kind of whack job, when clearly the gunman was a mentally ill man.... we just can't believe or support this type of insanity.
We wonder where and when it will all end and moderation will take back this country again. We wonder when the hate and the partisanship will end.
We look to the meaningless things in life to distract us from that: PIXAR movies, waterfalls, slot canyons, music, day trips to beautiful places, music, and Christmas decorations. But the decorations have all come down. The world outside is cold, and warmth is still a few months away. And so there is only one meaningful distraction that always makes it better, and for that, I sit here waiting for my wife to come home because this cold dark and insane world just feels too far away from the good things in life.
When baseball is at its best, George Bush is throwing a strike over the center of the plate and Mike Piazza is bringing the city of New York back to life. When America needs to heal, there is baseball. For this, we love it.
All the same, sometimes, baseball loses its players in horrific and tragic ways. For these times, we cry, but usually, we don't see these things.
Nevertheless, when the world cries and baseball cries, too, then we know that there is something wrong in the world.
And it is at times when Dallas Green, the former manager of the 1980 World Champion Phillies loses a grand daughter (Christina-Taylor Green) as part of the shooting that seriously wounded Gabrielle Giffords and many of her staff members and people present at a town hall rally AS WELL AS killing 5 other people, we all mourn.
The whack jobs from both sides making their noise... either in terms of gunshots fired or claims that anyone who joins the Tea Party is this kind of whack job, when clearly the gunman was a mentally ill man.... we just can't believe or support this type of insanity.
We wonder where and when it will all end and moderation will take back this country again. We wonder when the hate and the partisanship will end.
We look to the meaningless things in life to distract us from that: PIXAR movies, waterfalls, slot canyons, music, day trips to beautiful places, music, and Christmas decorations. But the decorations have all come down. The world outside is cold, and warmth is still a few months away. And so there is only one meaningful distraction that always makes it better, and for that, I sit here waiting for my wife to come home because this cold dark and insane world just feels too far away from the good things in life.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Matt Garza
On July 26, 2010, the Rays finally got a no hitter from one of their own instead of one of their opponents. Matt Garza was at the helm for the game as Tampa Bay defeated the Tigers 5-0. In the year before that, they were no hit four times (three in a year). This figure includes two perfect games (Dallas Braden on Mother's Day and Mark Buehrle) and a no hitter from one of their former players (Edwin Jackson, who managed to walk 8).
When the season was over, they had been to the playoffs, but were defeated by Texas in the opening round. Two years previously, they had been the unimaginable transformation team, blowing it against the Phillies, but making it to the World Series all the same. Now, their team was at a crossroads that exorcising the "Devil" from their woes couldn't help.
Carl Crawford was leaving because he wanted too much money and the Rays weren't willing to insult him with an offer (instead, the Red Sox nearly killed him when he freaked out hearing their incredible offer, but alas... baseball money has a way of doing that to people).
Carlos Pena and his 158 strikeouts in 484 at bats (gaining 28 home runs while batting .196) seems more memorable than he actually is (like that former lover who ends up in the all time greatest hits for a few nights of passion and / or a few awesome dates in the early days but ends up being more re-memorable for her antics and failures to live up to expectations when a better significant other comes into the game).
Jason Bartlett seems to be pretty important now, but it must be for intangibles because his stats scream average as he is only a 1.5 WAR player, and in looking to get those replacement wins, they can come cheaper through the minors and development.
Dioner Navarro is also a wash.
Dan Wheeler was a part of a lot of team's bullpens through the last decade or so, and there is sadness to Joaquin Benoit and Rafael Soriano packing up their bags and leaving, but in all honesty, besides Mariano Rivera and Trevor Hoffman, name some relievers that have lasted for more than a few seasons. I dare you. Past the K-Rod adventure outing (as much for father in laws as for opposing batters and for his own teammates), there is this fine list to check out. Trevor Hoffman doesn't rank on that list. Look at the all time saves list. Whose rookie card are you plunking cash down for? I have Gossage's card, had Eckersley's card, and would like Sutter and Fingers' cards. If I wasn't a Red Sox fan and it was about the value, I'd take Rivera, but as for the rest... largely forgettable players. That said, Jeff Reardon's note about his gun got him $170 and a permanent place in the memories of baseball fans, but all the same, that's not a good notoriety.
Most of these guys who are currently hurling from the bullpen are getting to the point where they're figured out. Why the Sox don't send Papelbon anywhere really is beyond me. Dan Bard is ready. Bobby Jenks is there just in case and he's an implosion as well.
Other former notables like Joe Nathan (who I have as good a chance as he does to make it unscathed through a game with the Yankees as he does) are done. Why pretend that closer is such a long-term big money position? There's only one man who has been clutch (it's paining me a hell of a lot to say that by the way) and deserves cash. The rest should be able to do 3 outs and done. This is closer 2011 - not in the days of Tug McGraw, Kent Tekulve, Dan Quisenberry, Rich Gossage, and Bruce Sutter.
As a result, Tampa Bay is calling the season to lose Carl Crawford and some other guys that could probably be worked around. With their revenue, they could make some signings, but instead, they call the game because their team is largely changed.
Hmm.... so let's think about that. Are they really that done.
Are they Pittsburgh who has not had a winning season since 1992 when they were 96 and 66. Barry Bonds still played for them and until Sid Bream motored home, there was still hope to relive 1979. But that said, they're done in 2011, too.
++++
Last year, I wrote this article. It pretty much holds true now:
In 1909, the Pittsburgh Pirates brought a largely “forgettable” Dutchman named Honus Wagner to the plate while putting Howie Camnitz on the mound. They won 110 games with a rotation of starting pitchers that didn’t have an ERA over 4.0. It was a different time in baseball as Honus Wagner only had 5 home runs that year despite batting .339, which was only 11 points better than his career average, which was once bested with a .381 average. The Pirates went 110-42 that year and decimated their opponents in baseball, which eventually included the American League Champion Tigers and their “emotional” star Ty Cobb, who did pathetically in his only World Series.
They won against Walter Johnson and the Washington Senators in 1925, which wasn’t a stretch despite the fact that Walter Johnson is undeniably great. Washington was always said to be first in war and peace and last in the American League East, but that year and the year before were different as Washington went to the series with almost no pitching (save Johnson). And the 2nd year, he wasn’t able to hold the gates closes at the end. In 1927, the Pirates made it to the World Series again, but were no match for the Yankees offensive juggernaut and were dispatched of 4 games to 0 in much the same way that a cat toys with a mouse and ends him.
A guy named Bill Mazeroski made 1960 special with an “afterthought” home run (as Mickey Mantle put it, the only time that the Yankees were the better team and lost the World Series), and in 1971, the Pirates did the deed again beating the Orioles in another 7 game series. The last time the Pirates had glory was in 1979. The radio waves were blasting Sister Sledge and Willie Stargell and Dave Parker were family. The Allegheny, the Monongahela, and the Ohio’s convergence came alive for baseball in the same way that it did for the football dynasty that brought the steel town to sports prominence. Brooks Robinson wouldn’t be standing on third for that Orioles loss, but it was another cross state rivalry between Pennsylvania and Maryland decided in favor of the Quaker’s state.
Since that time, the sun hasn’t shined on the Pirates. The last good year was 1992 and despite being a baseball God with a relatively small head (physically at least), Barry Bonds couldn’t throw out Sid Bream at the plate and the Atlanta dynasty ended and the dreams of Pennsylvania’s other team seemed to die. Bonds went to San Francisco and made bank. Pittsburgh went to seed and traded pretty much everyone away to build for the future every time it seemed like they were going somewhere.
In the relatively small space of time since 1998, the Pirates have traded away Jason Bay, Tony Womack, Sean Casey, Kris Benson, Jason Kendall, Brian Giles, Matt Stairs, Bronson Arroyo, Pokey Reese, Jason Schmidt, Matt Capps, Ian Snell, Xavier Nady, Freddy Sanchez, Nate McClouth, Rajai Davis, Adam Laroche, Jon Lieber, Jose Guillen, and Mike Gonzalez + Derek Bell (but those last 2 were good trades). When Bonds left, he left Andy Van Slyke on the team and little else. The Pirates were never the same again. The Pirates have not won the division since. They did come 2nd in 1997 despite being 4 games under .500. That said, that was their best record since that time of Atlanta's rise to glory. They are now a record 17 straight seasons under .500 and this year doesn’t appear to be any better.
In fact, the real question is how long until Zach Duke, Andrew McCutchen, and Garret Jones, the current National League home run leader leave for greener pastures? Will it be in July? Will the Pirates fold in May? Right now, they’re 3-2 and Jones is hitting dingers (POST NOTE - he finished with 21), but how long can the team continue to win when the door is going to slam shut and the lights are going to go off. Can we hope for resurgence like the Tigers had when they went from 42-112 in 2003 to the American League Championship in 2006? That said, neither team has been as lowly as the 1899 Cleveland Spiders, but still… how bad can it get? Will the Royals come up for air first?
That said, I think of my cousin’s children who are still too young to understand consistent futility like the Pirates have seen. There is a history, but it’s just that – a history before even I was born (save the final months of 1971 and that magic 1979 season). How do you tell kids not to pin their hopes on the hometown team? For that reason alone, I want to give these kids hope, so I give them Garrett Jones, who has hit three mighty bombs past the wall.
Sage and Miranda, they’re still over .500. There is a chance.
++++
Chances always exist, but let's be honest... the chance is for over .500 - not to make the season work.
For that, the Cubs have another pitcher, and now they have a chance for the first time since 1908.
Who knows?
This could be the year, Tampa Bay. Why are you calling it over before it started?
That said, Chris Archer's 15-3 with a 2.34 ERA between A and AA ball looks pretty nice in making us forget a guy with an upside of a just under 4.0 ERA.
And if this isn't the year, is it time to cry in your beer? Your fans didn't really support you anyway. You had Evan Longoria and still have him (as well as Ben Zobrist). You have David Price. You built for the impossible once. You can do it again.
So why are you quitting?
When the season was over, they had been to the playoffs, but were defeated by Texas in the opening round. Two years previously, they had been the unimaginable transformation team, blowing it against the Phillies, but making it to the World Series all the same. Now, their team was at a crossroads that exorcising the "Devil" from their woes couldn't help.
Carl Crawford was leaving because he wanted too much money and the Rays weren't willing to insult him with an offer (instead, the Red Sox nearly killed him when he freaked out hearing their incredible offer, but alas... baseball money has a way of doing that to people).
Carlos Pena and his 158 strikeouts in 484 at bats (gaining 28 home runs while batting .196) seems more memorable than he actually is (like that former lover who ends up in the all time greatest hits for a few nights of passion and / or a few awesome dates in the early days but ends up being more re-memorable for her antics and failures to live up to expectations when a better significant other comes into the game).
Jason Bartlett seems to be pretty important now, but it must be for intangibles because his stats scream average as he is only a 1.5 WAR player, and in looking to get those replacement wins, they can come cheaper through the minors and development.
Dioner Navarro is also a wash.
Dan Wheeler was a part of a lot of team's bullpens through the last decade or so, and there is sadness to Joaquin Benoit and Rafael Soriano packing up their bags and leaving, but in all honesty, besides Mariano Rivera and Trevor Hoffman, name some relievers that have lasted for more than a few seasons. I dare you. Past the K-Rod adventure outing (as much for father in laws as for opposing batters and for his own teammates), there is this fine list to check out. Trevor Hoffman doesn't rank on that list. Look at the all time saves list. Whose rookie card are you plunking cash down for? I have Gossage's card, had Eckersley's card, and would like Sutter and Fingers' cards. If I wasn't a Red Sox fan and it was about the value, I'd take Rivera, but as for the rest... largely forgettable players. That said, Jeff Reardon's note about his gun got him $170 and a permanent place in the memories of baseball fans, but all the same, that's not a good notoriety.
Most of these guys who are currently hurling from the bullpen are getting to the point where they're figured out. Why the Sox don't send Papelbon anywhere really is beyond me. Dan Bard is ready. Bobby Jenks is there just in case and he's an implosion as well.
Other former notables like Joe Nathan (who I have as good a chance as he does to make it unscathed through a game with the Yankees as he does) are done. Why pretend that closer is such a long-term big money position? There's only one man who has been clutch (it's paining me a hell of a lot to say that by the way) and deserves cash. The rest should be able to do 3 outs and done. This is closer 2011 - not in the days of Tug McGraw, Kent Tekulve, Dan Quisenberry, Rich Gossage, and Bruce Sutter.
As a result, Tampa Bay is calling the season to lose Carl Crawford and some other guys that could probably be worked around. With their revenue, they could make some signings, but instead, they call the game because their team is largely changed.
Hmm.... so let's think about that. Are they really that done.
Are they Pittsburgh who has not had a winning season since 1992 when they were 96 and 66. Barry Bonds still played for them and until Sid Bream motored home, there was still hope to relive 1979. But that said, they're done in 2011, too.
++++
Last year, I wrote this article. It pretty much holds true now:
In 1909, the Pittsburgh Pirates brought a largely “forgettable” Dutchman named Honus Wagner to the plate while putting Howie Camnitz on the mound. They won 110 games with a rotation of starting pitchers that didn’t have an ERA over 4.0. It was a different time in baseball as Honus Wagner only had 5 home runs that year despite batting .339, which was only 11 points better than his career average, which was once bested with a .381 average. The Pirates went 110-42 that year and decimated their opponents in baseball, which eventually included the American League Champion Tigers and their “emotional” star Ty Cobb, who did pathetically in his only World Series.
They won against Walter Johnson and the Washington Senators in 1925, which wasn’t a stretch despite the fact that Walter Johnson is undeniably great. Washington was always said to be first in war and peace and last in the American League East, but that year and the year before were different as Washington went to the series with almost no pitching (save Johnson). And the 2nd year, he wasn’t able to hold the gates closes at the end. In 1927, the Pirates made it to the World Series again, but were no match for the Yankees offensive juggernaut and were dispatched of 4 games to 0 in much the same way that a cat toys with a mouse and ends him.
A guy named Bill Mazeroski made 1960 special with an “afterthought” home run (as Mickey Mantle put it, the only time that the Yankees were the better team and lost the World Series), and in 1971, the Pirates did the deed again beating the Orioles in another 7 game series. The last time the Pirates had glory was in 1979. The radio waves were blasting Sister Sledge and Willie Stargell and Dave Parker were family. The Allegheny, the Monongahela, and the Ohio’s convergence came alive for baseball in the same way that it did for the football dynasty that brought the steel town to sports prominence. Brooks Robinson wouldn’t be standing on third for that Orioles loss, but it was another cross state rivalry between Pennsylvania and Maryland decided in favor of the Quaker’s state.
Since that time, the sun hasn’t shined on the Pirates. The last good year was 1992 and despite being a baseball God with a relatively small head (physically at least), Barry Bonds couldn’t throw out Sid Bream at the plate and the Atlanta dynasty ended and the dreams of Pennsylvania’s other team seemed to die. Bonds went to San Francisco and made bank. Pittsburgh went to seed and traded pretty much everyone away to build for the future every time it seemed like they were going somewhere.
In the relatively small space of time since 1998, the Pirates have traded away Jason Bay, Tony Womack, Sean Casey, Kris Benson, Jason Kendall, Brian Giles, Matt Stairs, Bronson Arroyo, Pokey Reese, Jason Schmidt, Matt Capps, Ian Snell, Xavier Nady, Freddy Sanchez, Nate McClouth, Rajai Davis, Adam Laroche, Jon Lieber, Jose Guillen, and Mike Gonzalez + Derek Bell (but those last 2 were good trades). When Bonds left, he left Andy Van Slyke on the team and little else. The Pirates were never the same again. The Pirates have not won the division since. They did come 2nd in 1997 despite being 4 games under .500. That said, that was their best record since that time of Atlanta's rise to glory. They are now a record 17 straight seasons under .500 and this year doesn’t appear to be any better.
In fact, the real question is how long until Zach Duke, Andrew McCutchen, and Garret Jones, the current National League home run leader leave for greener pastures? Will it be in July? Will the Pirates fold in May? Right now, they’re 3-2 and Jones is hitting dingers (POST NOTE - he finished with 21), but how long can the team continue to win when the door is going to slam shut and the lights are going to go off. Can we hope for resurgence like the Tigers had when they went from 42-112 in 2003 to the American League Championship in 2006? That said, neither team has been as lowly as the 1899 Cleveland Spiders, but still… how bad can it get? Will the Royals come up for air first?
That said, I think of my cousin’s children who are still too young to understand consistent futility like the Pirates have seen. There is a history, but it’s just that – a history before even I was born (save the final months of 1971 and that magic 1979 season). How do you tell kids not to pin their hopes on the hometown team? For that reason alone, I want to give these kids hope, so I give them Garrett Jones, who has hit three mighty bombs past the wall.
Sage and Miranda, they’re still over .500. There is a chance.
++++
Chances always exist, but let's be honest... the chance is for over .500 - not to make the season work.
For that, the Cubs have another pitcher, and now they have a chance for the first time since 1908.
Who knows?
This could be the year, Tampa Bay. Why are you calling it over before it started?
That said, Chris Archer's 15-3 with a 2.34 ERA between A and AA ball looks pretty nice in making us forget a guy with an upside of a just under 4.0 ERA.
And if this isn't the year, is it time to cry in your beer? Your fans didn't really support you anyway. You had Evan Longoria and still have him (as well as Ben Zobrist). You have David Price. You built for the impossible once. You can do it again.
So why are you quitting?
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Zach Greinke
Like Mark McGwire, I don't believe in the magic of steroids to help someone hit home runs (but I do know that they help people recover and gain strength to play continuously),
I don't believe in I-ching - I've always wished that I could be in line with the Tao Te Ching, but alas... these are new years revelations.
I don't believe in Bible-thumping in the form of pointing to Heaven after a home run. It's a sports moment not divine revelation.
I don't believe in tarot and anything else that seems like it would be something associated with Ms. Cleo. That said, I believe in baseball superstitions - as long as they don't slow down the game.
I don't believe in Hitler and I have no respect for Marge Schott and those who do.
I don't believe in trades for Ivan DeJesus since they mean giving up Larry Bowa, and frankly, that's not a smart move.
I don't believe in Adam Kennedy as my day to day second basemen. He's just not what I want from my starting second baseman, and his stats prove it.
I don't believe in Buddha or starting pitchers who look like his twin.
I don't believe in mantra in the form of slogans thrown up on the Jumbotron in order to get fans to will their team to victory. That said, I do believe in rally monkeys and thundersticks, but once again, I have no use for waving towels. They're really cheap looking.
I don't believe in Gita. It's not like I'm Pedro Cerrano letting Jobu know what's what ("I'm pissed off now, Jobu. Look, I go to you. I stick up for you. You don't help me now. I say "Fuck you," Jobu, I do it myself. "), it's just that I've never really been one for trendy eastern religions.
I don't believe in yoga as an answer to baseball longevity. Ask Barry Zito if you don't believe me.
I don't believe in kings, who stay too long as the baseball commissioner and eventually just find their way into the position permanently since it just seems easier that way.
I don't believe in Elvis Andrus, and if you look, his World Series stats back me up on that.
I don't believe in the innocence of Don Zimmer, man, but I think Pedro could have handled that situation a little better.
I don't believe in Beatles in the way that some people do, but I will say that they've got some really great songs. The medley of songs from "Because" to "The End" stands out as does "Strawberry Fields."
I just believe in me,
Just my wife Heather and me...
And if I was John Lennon writing this song now, I would add that I don't believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy (the real life one or the one the Rock played), the Easter Bunny (though that took some convincing since I once saw a shadow of "him" on Easter Eve at age 5), the power of Obama to get anything done, or Zach Greinke.
The Brewers shouldn't either. One great, one good, and a few average ones don't make someone the great white hope of baseball - especially when they force the team to get masseuses and Stuart Smalley to help cope with confidence and anxiety problems on the big stage.
Didn't you people learn anything from Philadelphia and Houston's debacles with Brad Lidge?
That said, we should probably focus more on the positive of what to believe in. For that, I give you Crash Davis:
"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
I don't believe in I-ching - I've always wished that I could be in line with the Tao Te Ching, but alas... these are new years revelations.
I don't believe in Bible-thumping in the form of pointing to Heaven after a home run. It's a sports moment not divine revelation.
I don't believe in tarot and anything else that seems like it would be something associated with Ms. Cleo. That said, I believe in baseball superstitions - as long as they don't slow down the game.
I don't believe in Hitler and I have no respect for Marge Schott and those who do.
I don't believe in trades for Ivan DeJesus since they mean giving up Larry Bowa, and frankly, that's not a smart move.
I don't believe in Adam Kennedy as my day to day second basemen. He's just not what I want from my starting second baseman, and his stats prove it.
I don't believe in Buddha or starting pitchers who look like his twin.
I don't believe in mantra in the form of slogans thrown up on the Jumbotron in order to get fans to will their team to victory. That said, I do believe in rally monkeys and thundersticks, but once again, I have no use for waving towels. They're really cheap looking.
I don't believe in Gita. It's not like I'm Pedro Cerrano letting Jobu know what's what ("I'm pissed off now, Jobu. Look, I go to you. I stick up for you. You don't help me now. I say "Fuck you," Jobu, I do it myself. "), it's just that I've never really been one for trendy eastern religions.
I don't believe in yoga as an answer to baseball longevity. Ask Barry Zito if you don't believe me.
I don't believe in kings, who stay too long as the baseball commissioner and eventually just find their way into the position permanently since it just seems easier that way.
I don't believe in Elvis Andrus, and if you look, his World Series stats back me up on that.
I don't believe in the innocence of Don Zimmer, man, but I think Pedro could have handled that situation a little better.
I don't believe in Beatles in the way that some people do, but I will say that they've got some really great songs. The medley of songs from "Because" to "The End" stands out as does "Strawberry Fields."
I just believe in me,
Just my wife Heather and me...
And if I was John Lennon writing this song now, I would add that I don't believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy (the real life one or the one the Rock played), the Easter Bunny (though that took some convincing since I once saw a shadow of "him" on Easter Eve at age 5), the power of Obama to get anything done, or Zach Greinke.
The Brewers shouldn't either. One great, one good, and a few average ones don't make someone the great white hope of baseball - especially when they force the team to get masseuses and Stuart Smalley to help cope with confidence and anxiety problems on the big stage.
Didn't you people learn anything from Philadelphia and Houston's debacles with Brad Lidge?
That said, we should probably focus more on the positive of what to believe in. For that, I give you Crash Davis:
"Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
Friday, January 7, 2011
Edgar Renteria
The snow now laying on my sidewalk, I procrastinate going outside as I choose to acknowledge the snow for what it is - something beautiful rather than work I have to do. My window affords me a view of the world, and while it's just an alley way, it's a place that is all my own and my wife's. This is our world and in the time it's taken to get this house into shape, we've made it quite homely and unique. Actually, she has done much of the work. This is her vision, and it's amazing.
In that, visions are good things. Goals and affirmations that lead to mantras of what is and what will be. This blog will be. My writing will return, and that too will be. As a 39 year old man, I see my life in terms of what is ahead instead of a retirement ceremony. As I look for better and supplemental employment to go with the classes that I teach and the Masters Degree in Education that I have just received, I know that while my future is limited due to my having a liberal arts degree (and while I can ask "Do you want fries with that," I know that McDonald's would probably see me as over-qualified while many colleges and universities see my not having a degree in 13th century British Poetry as meaning that I am under-qualified - despite the fact that I've taught writing for the past 6.5 years on the community college level.
But alas, the future is here and now, and as I think about my future, I know that Edgar Renteria sees his life in terms of the future and the past as well.
"That offer from the Giants was a lack of respect. A total disrespect, to play for a million dollars, I'd rather stay with my private business and share more time with my family," he said. "Thank God I'm well off financially and my money is well invested."
But since this is baseball money and this is the guy who won the World Series for the Marlins and this is the guy who hit the home run that put the Giants up for good in the final game of the 2010 World Series.
"I have received at least another offer since I was a free agent, but it wasn't what I'm looking for to continue playing," Renteria said. "If I got a good offer, I'm playing, and if not, it's better to stay at home."
This is also the guy who is 34 and hit into the final out of the 2004 World Series against Boston.
And while I would pretty much do anything but a handful of things for $1million a year and endorsements, this is baseball money he's looking to earn. The $3million that he could earn instead of the $1million that he was offered represents respect - respect for a man who batted 35 times in the World Series because he was considered second to Juan Uribe who completely phoned it in when he wasn't jacking his single home run. And while Renteria wants good baseball money for his World Series heroics, he wasn't that good in the League Championship.
But he is Edgar Renteria, and he is a mainstay on many teams, and now he will have a chance to be a $3million man for the Reds. Hopefully, this stay will end up better than Boston and the Tigers and more like his stay with the Braves.
And just like Edgar, I think about what my next stay will amount to. What contract will I get? What options will I have? Will they pay me incentives? Will fans wear my jersey? Will I get a shoe deal? Hell, I could use a pair of hiking boots that are good for hiking in the creek, a new pair of sneakers, they don't even have to be endorsed by an athlete, and a shiny black pair of dress shoes. You can't imagine what I'd do for a shoe deal right about now!
But teaching and writing arbitrary baseball blogs are not baseball money, which was just under $3million in 2009. The league minimum for the same year was $400,000 - chump change, I know, but when Alex Rodriguez is making over $30million, a man has to do what he has to do.
Thus, the question is am I good for $25... an hour?
In that, visions are good things. Goals and affirmations that lead to mantras of what is and what will be. This blog will be. My writing will return, and that too will be. As a 39 year old man, I see my life in terms of what is ahead instead of a retirement ceremony. As I look for better and supplemental employment to go with the classes that I teach and the Masters Degree in Education that I have just received, I know that while my future is limited due to my having a liberal arts degree (and while I can ask "Do you want fries with that," I know that McDonald's would probably see me as over-qualified while many colleges and universities see my not having a degree in 13th century British Poetry as meaning that I am under-qualified - despite the fact that I've taught writing for the past 6.5 years on the community college level.
But alas, the future is here and now, and as I think about my future, I know that Edgar Renteria sees his life in terms of the future and the past as well.
"That offer from the Giants was a lack of respect. A total disrespect, to play for a million dollars, I'd rather stay with my private business and share more time with my family," he said. "Thank God I'm well off financially and my money is well invested."
But since this is baseball money and this is the guy who won the World Series for the Marlins and this is the guy who hit the home run that put the Giants up for good in the final game of the 2010 World Series.
"I have received at least another offer since I was a free agent, but it wasn't what I'm looking for to continue playing," Renteria said. "If I got a good offer, I'm playing, and if not, it's better to stay at home."
This is also the guy who is 34 and hit into the final out of the 2004 World Series against Boston.
And while I would pretty much do anything but a handful of things for $1million a year and endorsements, this is baseball money he's looking to earn. The $3million that he could earn instead of the $1million that he was offered represents respect - respect for a man who batted 35 times in the World Series because he was considered second to Juan Uribe who completely phoned it in when he wasn't jacking his single home run. And while Renteria wants good baseball money for his World Series heroics, he wasn't that good in the League Championship.
But he is Edgar Renteria, and he is a mainstay on many teams, and now he will have a chance to be a $3million man for the Reds. Hopefully, this stay will end up better than Boston and the Tigers and more like his stay with the Braves.
And just like Edgar, I think about what my next stay will amount to. What contract will I get? What options will I have? Will they pay me incentives? Will fans wear my jersey? Will I get a shoe deal? Hell, I could use a pair of hiking boots that are good for hiking in the creek, a new pair of sneakers, they don't even have to be endorsed by an athlete, and a shiny black pair of dress shoes. You can't imagine what I'd do for a shoe deal right about now!
But teaching and writing arbitrary baseball blogs are not baseball money, which was just under $3million in 2009. The league minimum for the same year was $400,000 - chump change, I know, but when Alex Rodriguez is making over $30million, a man has to do what he has to do.
Thus, the question is am I good for $25... an hour?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
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...
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.
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...
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.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Stephen Clark
In 1933, Lake Oswego's neighboring town, Cooperstown, became the genesis of a grand idea - Stephen Clark realized that baseball needed a Hall of Fame to save the town, and his idea for a museum to house artifacts and memories, a nostalgia of a time that should never be forgotten was brought to life and in in 1936, the inaugural class of Walter Johnson, Ty Cobb, Honus Wagner, Christy Mathewson, and Babe Ruth were put into the Hall of Fame for all future generations to pay homage to. The next year, Nap Lajoie, Cy Young, Grover Alexander, and Tris Speaker joined the initial four members and brought owners and managers like Ban Johnson, John McGraw, Connie Mack, and Morgan Bulkeley to the fold.
In looking down the list of all those who made the Hall of Fame in its early years, there were many great players who did amazing things. By about 1945-46, some of the names are pulled from the deepest recesses of baseball history, but in dusted off tobacco cards, their images come alive again to show that they were the founders of the game that made it possible for all others.
In looking at the salaries of the modern baseball players who prove that with one good year, especially a good year in a contract year, they can go anywhere, it's hard to see general managers and owners and fans getting bang for their bucks.
Sure, Alex Rodriguez and hiss $33 million per SHOULD make the Hall of Fame - save for the pesky steroids trouble he had, but will Carlos Lee and his $19 mill per? Let's keep this trend going and ask about John Lackey, AJ Burnett, Magglio Ordonez, Barry Zito, Aramis Ramirez, Todd Helton, John Lackey, Carlos Zambrano, Alfonso Soriano, Carlos Beltran, and Mark Teixara? And one could also ask about Johan Santana and CC Sabathia, he of the Taft-like figure, but perhaps they will go somewhere with the bright lights of the Big Apple shining on their careers - if they can stay consistent and win, especially on the bigger post season stages.
Perusing the top 20 salaries by year, only Ichiro and Derek Jeter are locks. At this point, Jeter could probably rob a bank and be forgiven due to his having been involved in the (most over-rated) play of all time that saw Jeremy Giambi's steroid addled self thrown out at home for failing to slide, but I digress...
If Manny Ramirez did steroids, what's to say that Ryan Howard won't be found guilty or some future generation will punish whiff masters for failing to connect with the ball more often, if only to make a ground out and advance runners?
Who's a safe bet? Miguel Cabrera? Torii Hunter? It would be easy to shift them to the same list of not quites as previously mentioned, but such is the game of baseball in 2011.
And while I've said it before and I'll say it again that players should take what they're being offered, is giving the money to really good players INSTEAD OF great players the answer? Should the whole thing be based on hope?
If so, then Carlos Gonzalez is in a great place for both himself and his team. $80million for 7 years is very affordable in a world where total salary packages are pushing towards $150million plus rapidly and that's not even getting into the waste of cash that is Alex Rodriguez's $264million salary. In a downturn of his career and coming off a steroids revelation, is this smart money? And barring steroids allegations, the long term high money package deals look relatively safer for the top players, but still... Mike Mussina? Carlos Delgado? Gary Sheffield?
Jeff Bagwell?
Which brings us to the Hall of Fame vote at 1pm today. For a man who made the All Star team 4 times from 1991-2005 and accumulated 449 supposedly "steroids free" home runs (the strength of his vote, if one is casting for him) and a near .300 lifetime batting average (which eclipses Dave Kingman's 442 and .236 respectively), are we really to believe that just because a person wins Rookie of the Year and 1 MVP award, he is worthy of Cooperstown?
And perhaps we'll see today.
Personally, I think Larry Walker's 383 home runs and .313 batting average and the idea of what could have been, even though he played at Coors Field is a hell of a lot better, but that's just me. I know that he will be nowhere close.
I also know that Roberto, "the Spitter," Alomar should sit out for another year, but alas, that's just me, too. The good folks at ESPN are giving him a 94% favorable rate in his 2nd year (out of 18 voters) and Walker only has 1 vote. However, it should be noted, Mark McGwire has 7 votes, still only half of the needed vote to get through the doors, but for his honesty and the bad advice that he took from his lawyers, we can look at his career for what it is.
Someday soon, the Hall of Fame will need to address steroids users in its wing of honor. This won't be next year because the highlight of the voting will be guys like Dustin Hermanson and Carl "Dinosaur" Everett. There will literally be nobody to vote for. Really. Don't believe me? Look it up.
But in 2013, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa, and Mike Piazza will join Mark McGwire in the vote getting. We're not even including drunken lout David Wells in that category, but should he really be getting votes either if we're talking about doing things with honor? I mean, he's not Doc Ellis, but still... next year is not going to be pretty.
So who will tip the scales this year?
Bert Blyleven in his millionth year? Jack Morris? Barry Larkin? Dale Murphy? Lee Smith?
Will the voters respect DH Edgar Martinez?
Will Tim Raines be remembered for his stolen bases or that they were done headfirst to avoid smashing the cocaine vials that he kept in his back pocket?
Will Rafael Palmeiro be believed for his stern denial of using steroids before or after the fact he was busted?
Will Barry Larkin still be seen as great in a day and age when short stops hit for power and presitge?
Will anyone remember the 80s enough to remember Alan Trammel?
Will Fred McGriff's 2 years leading the league in home runs to end up with 493 in a career that ran from 1986 to 2004, only to be derailed by the fact that nobody wanted to sign a guy for one year to let him attain a milestone, finally end up in Cooperstown?
So many choices... so much celebration ready to be unleashed, but in the end, my bet is for Bert Blyleven and that's it.
Alomar will go next year in the emptiness of the voting, as will Barry Larkin. The following July will be a dull celebration that nobody except for Reds fans will go to. You can guarantee that Mets fans won't be there to cheer Roberto on to glory.
In looking down the list of all those who made the Hall of Fame in its early years, there were many great players who did amazing things. By about 1945-46, some of the names are pulled from the deepest recesses of baseball history, but in dusted off tobacco cards, their images come alive again to show that they were the founders of the game that made it possible for all others.
In looking at the salaries of the modern baseball players who prove that with one good year, especially a good year in a contract year, they can go anywhere, it's hard to see general managers and owners and fans getting bang for their bucks.
Sure, Alex Rodriguez and hiss $33 million per SHOULD make the Hall of Fame - save for the pesky steroids trouble he had, but will Carlos Lee and his $19 mill per? Let's keep this trend going and ask about John Lackey, AJ Burnett, Magglio Ordonez, Barry Zito, Aramis Ramirez, Todd Helton, John Lackey, Carlos Zambrano, Alfonso Soriano, Carlos Beltran, and Mark Teixara? And one could also ask about Johan Santana and CC Sabathia, he of the Taft-like figure, but perhaps they will go somewhere with the bright lights of the Big Apple shining on their careers - if they can stay consistent and win, especially on the bigger post season stages.
Perusing the top 20 salaries by year, only Ichiro and Derek Jeter are locks. At this point, Jeter could probably rob a bank and be forgiven due to his having been involved in the (most over-rated) play of all time that saw Jeremy Giambi's steroid addled self thrown out at home for failing to slide, but I digress...
If Manny Ramirez did steroids, what's to say that Ryan Howard won't be found guilty or some future generation will punish whiff masters for failing to connect with the ball more often, if only to make a ground out and advance runners?
Who's a safe bet? Miguel Cabrera? Torii Hunter? It would be easy to shift them to the same list of not quites as previously mentioned, but such is the game of baseball in 2011.
And while I've said it before and I'll say it again that players should take what they're being offered, is giving the money to really good players INSTEAD OF great players the answer? Should the whole thing be based on hope?
If so, then Carlos Gonzalez is in a great place for both himself and his team. $80million for 7 years is very affordable in a world where total salary packages are pushing towards $150million plus rapidly and that's not even getting into the waste of cash that is Alex Rodriguez's $264million salary. In a downturn of his career and coming off a steroids revelation, is this smart money? And barring steroids allegations, the long term high money package deals look relatively safer for the top players, but still... Mike Mussina? Carlos Delgado? Gary Sheffield?
Jeff Bagwell?
Which brings us to the Hall of Fame vote at 1pm today. For a man who made the All Star team 4 times from 1991-2005 and accumulated 449 supposedly "steroids free" home runs (the strength of his vote, if one is casting for him) and a near .300 lifetime batting average (which eclipses Dave Kingman's 442 and .236 respectively), are we really to believe that just because a person wins Rookie of the Year and 1 MVP award, he is worthy of Cooperstown?
And perhaps we'll see today.
Personally, I think Larry Walker's 383 home runs and .313 batting average and the idea of what could have been, even though he played at Coors Field is a hell of a lot better, but that's just me. I know that he will be nowhere close.
I also know that Roberto, "the Spitter," Alomar should sit out for another year, but alas, that's just me, too. The good folks at ESPN are giving him a 94% favorable rate in his 2nd year (out of 18 voters) and Walker only has 1 vote. However, it should be noted, Mark McGwire has 7 votes, still only half of the needed vote to get through the doors, but for his honesty and the bad advice that he took from his lawyers, we can look at his career for what it is.
Someday soon, the Hall of Fame will need to address steroids users in its wing of honor. This won't be next year because the highlight of the voting will be guys like Dustin Hermanson and Carl "Dinosaur" Everett. There will literally be nobody to vote for. Really. Don't believe me? Look it up.
But in 2013, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa, and Mike Piazza will join Mark McGwire in the vote getting. We're not even including drunken lout David Wells in that category, but should he really be getting votes either if we're talking about doing things with honor? I mean, he's not Doc Ellis, but still... next year is not going to be pretty.
So who will tip the scales this year?
Bert Blyleven in his millionth year? Jack Morris? Barry Larkin? Dale Murphy? Lee Smith?
Will the voters respect DH Edgar Martinez?
Will Tim Raines be remembered for his stolen bases or that they were done headfirst to avoid smashing the cocaine vials that he kept in his back pocket?
Will Rafael Palmeiro be believed for his stern denial of using steroids before or after the fact he was busted?
Will Barry Larkin still be seen as great in a day and age when short stops hit for power and presitge?
Will anyone remember the 80s enough to remember Alan Trammel?
Will Fred McGriff's 2 years leading the league in home runs to end up with 493 in a career that ran from 1986 to 2004, only to be derailed by the fact that nobody wanted to sign a guy for one year to let him attain a milestone, finally end up in Cooperstown?
So many choices... so much celebration ready to be unleashed, but in the end, my bet is for Bert Blyleven and that's it.
Alomar will go next year in the emptiness of the voting, as will Barry Larkin. The following July will be a dull celebration that nobody except for Reds fans will go to. You can guarantee that Mets fans won't be there to cheer Roberto on to glory.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Josh Hamilton
After being named the first pick of the first round in 1999, the sky was the limit for Hamilton as he looked to the future and how he would be developing into the star that the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, who had still not been exorcised, had needed to move forward to the future. Behind him in the 2nd round was Carl Crawford. On the free agent front were players like Wade Boggs, Fred McGriff, and Jose Canseco. Wilson Alvarez offered hope that he could return to the form that he hoped he contained when they signed him the previous year and some guy named Rolando Arrojo was a runner up for the Rookie of the Year award.
With a lot of gambles and a lot of youth in the American League East, the Devil Rays hoped to build as they improved and drew fans to Tropicana Stadium. Much was made for the hope of their youth, especially Hamilton, and who knew? Perhaps this would be a quick turn around, like the other Florida team who went from non existent to world champions in their 5th season.
However, Hamilton found other things to make his life go... like the heart racing pleasures and pains of crack cocaine.
Not listening to Whitney Houston about how crack was whack, Hamilton took his life to "strange places" and "bad decisions."
After wandering in and out of crackhouses and through the middle of a highway in a drug dependent trance, Hamilton recovered in what he termed a "God thing." Proof that there is always hope at the bottom of the barrel, bottle, syringe, and spoon, Hamilton moved forward with life and gave it another go after the Devil Rays jettisoned him to the Cubs in the 2006 Rule 5 draft. Like a house made over by successful flippers, he was immediately sent packing to the Reds who made him a blossoming star in 2007. A .292 batting average and 19 home runs showed promise and sent the North Carolinian to Arlington as he had a break out season and a hell of a home run derby in front of the world who now praised him as a recovered drug addict with slight emphasis on the Christianity that made it all possible.
And for the purpose of religion and having something to do in front of fans who looked up to him and his story, Hamilton became something with the belief of his wife and child who saw him through eight different stints in rehab. He went on to hit a record 28 home runs in the first round of the 2008 home run derby at Yankee Stadium with the help of a grandmother who took his grunged-out drug-addled self in when he came to her door in 2005 as a barely unrecognizable body.
Proof that dreams come true, but that it's not always easy to move straight through as he relapsed into alcoholic partying time and injuries, but 2010 was back to form as he won the A.L. MVP Award despite MORE injuries that kept him from playing the full season. Still, he hit 32 home runs, 100 RBIs, and .356 over a season that consisted of 518 at bats. Even more so, his OPS was 1.044, which is hellacious - even in Texas.
This took him and his team to the World Series via the Yankees and his former team that he never quite made it to, the revamped Rays who had now been in the playoffs twice.
In thoughts of what could have been and of keeping Hamilton straight, there were many, but the Rangers kept their star in line with modified celebrations of ginger ale instead of champagne.
And here is another place where we hope and wish for the best as Hamilton needs to keep clean and stop partying the life of a dumb jock / ex addict. There is more glory in Cooperstown than up against the ass of a trashy waitress or doing shots off another woman's chest while his supportive wife sits at home. This is not to say that he's a bad person. We all slip and do stupid stuff; it's just that most of us can't hit a major league curve ball while carrying the hopes of this feel good second chance nation of ours to post season glory.
With a lot of gambles and a lot of youth in the American League East, the Devil Rays hoped to build as they improved and drew fans to Tropicana Stadium. Much was made for the hope of their youth, especially Hamilton, and who knew? Perhaps this would be a quick turn around, like the other Florida team who went from non existent to world champions in their 5th season.
However, Hamilton found other things to make his life go... like the heart racing pleasures and pains of crack cocaine.
Not listening to Whitney Houston about how crack was whack, Hamilton took his life to "strange places" and "bad decisions."
After wandering in and out of crackhouses and through the middle of a highway in a drug dependent trance, Hamilton recovered in what he termed a "God thing." Proof that there is always hope at the bottom of the barrel, bottle, syringe, and spoon, Hamilton moved forward with life and gave it another go after the Devil Rays jettisoned him to the Cubs in the 2006 Rule 5 draft. Like a house made over by successful flippers, he was immediately sent packing to the Reds who made him a blossoming star in 2007. A .292 batting average and 19 home runs showed promise and sent the North Carolinian to Arlington as he had a break out season and a hell of a home run derby in front of the world who now praised him as a recovered drug addict with slight emphasis on the Christianity that made it all possible.
And for the purpose of religion and having something to do in front of fans who looked up to him and his story, Hamilton became something with the belief of his wife and child who saw him through eight different stints in rehab. He went on to hit a record 28 home runs in the first round of the 2008 home run derby at Yankee Stadium with the help of a grandmother who took his grunged-out drug-addled self in when he came to her door in 2005 as a barely unrecognizable body.
Proof that dreams come true, but that it's not always easy to move straight through as he relapsed into alcoholic partying time and injuries, but 2010 was back to form as he won the A.L. MVP Award despite MORE injuries that kept him from playing the full season. Still, he hit 32 home runs, 100 RBIs, and .356 over a season that consisted of 518 at bats. Even more so, his OPS was 1.044, which is hellacious - even in Texas.
This took him and his team to the World Series via the Yankees and his former team that he never quite made it to, the revamped Rays who had now been in the playoffs twice.
In thoughts of what could have been and of keeping Hamilton straight, there were many, but the Rangers kept their star in line with modified celebrations of ginger ale instead of champagne.
And here is another place where we hope and wish for the best as Hamilton needs to keep clean and stop partying the life of a dumb jock / ex addict. There is more glory in Cooperstown than up against the ass of a trashy waitress or doing shots off another woman's chest while his supportive wife sits at home. This is not to say that he's a bad person. We all slip and do stupid stuff; it's just that most of us can't hit a major league curve ball while carrying the hopes of this feel good second chance nation of ours to post season glory.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Harmon Killebrew
When more young kids are aware that your name is a drinking game than that of the 11th greatest home run hitter in major league history, which is a position that he will occupy for quite some time since nobody wants to take a chance on Manny Ramirez this off season and because Vladamir Guerrero is suffering from Dominican ball player aging-itis, this is something to say about the state of people understanding baseball history. Then again, many young players are completely unaware of the history of the game.
However, Harmon is just one of a long list of players and managers and announcers to develop life-threatening sickness and to move within inches of shuffling off this mortal coil. To be honest, 2010 was quite the legendary year for baseball with the comings, goings, and happenings, in what has come to be called the year of the pitcher.
But to that, Harmon was no friend of pitchers as he went deep 573 times in his 22 major league seasons. Six times, he led the league in dingers, and 8 times, he walloped more than 40 jacks. Eight times, he had more than 100 RBIs, which was at its zenith as the US put a man on the moon, a year that he contributed to 140 runs for the 1969 Twins. Considering that the Twins only had Rod Carew and Tony Oliva on their team that year, that's saying something.
Killebrew had 49 of the 163 home runs and 140 of the team's 744 RBIs. He was a man amongst men save for the fact he never hit more than 300 in a season (his first season didn't even produce 20 at bats). However, for those 49 jacks in 69, he only whiffed 84 times. That's not even half of a Ryan Howard season, and don't get me started on Mark Reynolds and Carlos Pena.
So as the 74 year old has developed esophageal cancer and moved into the Mayo Clinic for treatment. As he says:
"With my wife, Nita, by my side, I have begun preparing for what is perhaps the most difficult battle of my life. I am being treated by a team of medical professionals at the Mayo Clinic. While my condition is very serious, I have confidence in my doctors and the medical staff, and I anticipate a full recovery."
We can only hope that he recovers, and that as he does, people who profess a love of baseball remember that only 41 single seasons were ever greater than his 49 in 69. And while the Twins and the Senators and the Royals of his time were never that good, he was.
His plaque at Cooperstown proves it.
However, Harmon is just one of a long list of players and managers and announcers to develop life-threatening sickness and to move within inches of shuffling off this mortal coil. To be honest, 2010 was quite the legendary year for baseball with the comings, goings, and happenings, in what has come to be called the year of the pitcher.
But to that, Harmon was no friend of pitchers as he went deep 573 times in his 22 major league seasons. Six times, he led the league in dingers, and 8 times, he walloped more than 40 jacks. Eight times, he had more than 100 RBIs, which was at its zenith as the US put a man on the moon, a year that he contributed to 140 runs for the 1969 Twins. Considering that the Twins only had Rod Carew and Tony Oliva on their team that year, that's saying something.
Killebrew had 49 of the 163 home runs and 140 of the team's 744 RBIs. He was a man amongst men save for the fact he never hit more than 300 in a season (his first season didn't even produce 20 at bats). However, for those 49 jacks in 69, he only whiffed 84 times. That's not even half of a Ryan Howard season, and don't get me started on Mark Reynolds and Carlos Pena.
So as the 74 year old has developed esophageal cancer and moved into the Mayo Clinic for treatment. As he says:
"With my wife, Nita, by my side, I have begun preparing for what is perhaps the most difficult battle of my life. I am being treated by a team of medical professionals at the Mayo Clinic. While my condition is very serious, I have confidence in my doctors and the medical staff, and I anticipate a full recovery."
We can only hope that he recovers, and that as he does, people who profess a love of baseball remember that only 41 single seasons were ever greater than his 49 in 69. And while the Twins and the Senators and the Royals of his time were never that good, he was.
His plaque at Cooperstown proves it.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Barry Zito's Teddy Bear
The first time that Barry Zito came to New York in the playoffs, he was dealing, and the A's kicked butt. The second time he came, he was even better, but the A's weren't and they handed a loss to a great young pitcher. In the next two years, Zito went 2-1, and the A's went nowhere in the playoffs. When they got back to the playoffs in 2006, they still didn't go anywhere and Zito went 1-1. That said, when your team doesn't win, you just take the show to a different city and get a monster contract in hopes that you can be something great there.
The Giants bit in those days when there was still belief in Barry Bonds and getting a ring for the city of San Francisco for the first time ever and a ring for the Giants for the first time since 1954. Maybe someone should have told the 2002 Giants that it's cheaper to tell your guys not to celebrate before the fat lady sings than before Scott Spiezio starts a rally by depositing a 3-run home run over the outfield field wall.
Like Curt Schilling dreamed before game 1 of the 2004 ALCS, there's nothing like shutting up a city - even if he had to wait until game 6 to do, the Angels and their Thundersticks shut up Barry Bonds and his crew proving that K-Rod was better than F-Rod, and so the Rally Monkey got the win.
In 2007, Barry took his surfer cut, zen attitude, and teddy bear to the City by the Bay for $126 million over 7 years and rewarded the fans with ERAs of 4.53 and 5.15. The next 2 years were better as he was just over 4, which means about average, but in retrospect, the fact that he was left off of the post season roster altogether despite making $18million per year...
Normally, a really poor signing is measured in that free agency year upswing after a young player suddenly gets good, but Zito was one of the Oakland greats (along with fellow ship jumpers Tim Hudson and Mark Muldur). He was a man that had a fan base - maybe more so for that surfer hunk image that became all caring and sensitive with stories of his teddy bear, but for a guy to suck so badly that he's left off of the post season roster despite past success and the need to earn his $18million keep... yeah. Maybe that's why Carl Pavano doesn't have a home. One year of success in Minnesota after sucking up the place in New York with a long salary that never panned out and a serious dissing of Boston to get there... Perhaps the baseball world knows a Sidney Ponson mirage when it sees one - especially at the price that he's asking.
And there are good signings and bad signings in every off season. All up and coming teams have to sign big to get anywhere. Detroit signed Ivan Rodriguez for $40million over 4 years, though only half was guaranteed, to take a 43-119 team into the World Series in 2 years. Commitment is everything, but frankly, giving Jayson Werth 7 years and $126million after the relatively affordable and sane Phillies' contract that he has for 2 years $10million is absolutely ludicrous.
What do the Nationals get for it? Two years of dependable service, which in looking closely are the last 2. Three years with over 20 home runs, which are the last three. The last 2 years were 156 and 147 strikeouts respectively. Mind you, his rate didn't really drop last year; he just had less at bats. He did lead the league in doubles last year, but he's never had 100 RBIs. Joining Ryan Zimmerman as the power center of an Adam Dunn-less DC squad looking to compete for a new armed Stephen Strasburg and a yet to be shown Bryce Harper, there are things that the team must do. However, signing an above average Sasquatch for that long for that much money when even the big boys who can just throw money into the wind and hope for it to hit aren't offering 7 years to a 30+ year old fan favorite in a city that is over 2 hours north...
As Puff Daddy said, "It's all about the Benjamins," and I don't knock him for taking them... I would have, but frankly, I thought we were living in the era of sane baseball and not late life contracts to Derek Bell, Juan Gonzalez, Denny Neagle, and Mike Hampton.
The Giants bit in those days when there was still belief in Barry Bonds and getting a ring for the city of San Francisco for the first time ever and a ring for the Giants for the first time since 1954. Maybe someone should have told the 2002 Giants that it's cheaper to tell your guys not to celebrate before the fat lady sings than before Scott Spiezio starts a rally by depositing a 3-run home run over the outfield field wall.
Like Curt Schilling dreamed before game 1 of the 2004 ALCS, there's nothing like shutting up a city - even if he had to wait until game 6 to do, the Angels and their Thundersticks shut up Barry Bonds and his crew proving that K-Rod was better than F-Rod, and so the Rally Monkey got the win.
In 2007, Barry took his surfer cut, zen attitude, and teddy bear to the City by the Bay for $126 million over 7 years and rewarded the fans with ERAs of 4.53 and 5.15. The next 2 years were better as he was just over 4, which means about average, but in retrospect, the fact that he was left off of the post season roster altogether despite making $18million per year...
Normally, a really poor signing is measured in that free agency year upswing after a young player suddenly gets good, but Zito was one of the Oakland greats (along with fellow ship jumpers Tim Hudson and Mark Muldur). He was a man that had a fan base - maybe more so for that surfer hunk image that became all caring and sensitive with stories of his teddy bear, but for a guy to suck so badly that he's left off of the post season roster despite past success and the need to earn his $18million keep... yeah. Maybe that's why Carl Pavano doesn't have a home. One year of success in Minnesota after sucking up the place in New York with a long salary that never panned out and a serious dissing of Boston to get there... Perhaps the baseball world knows a Sidney Ponson mirage when it sees one - especially at the price that he's asking.
And there are good signings and bad signings in every off season. All up and coming teams have to sign big to get anywhere. Detroit signed Ivan Rodriguez for $40million over 4 years, though only half was guaranteed, to take a 43-119 team into the World Series in 2 years. Commitment is everything, but frankly, giving Jayson Werth 7 years and $126million after the relatively affordable and sane Phillies' contract that he has for 2 years $10million is absolutely ludicrous.
What do the Nationals get for it? Two years of dependable service, which in looking closely are the last 2. Three years with over 20 home runs, which are the last three. The last 2 years were 156 and 147 strikeouts respectively. Mind you, his rate didn't really drop last year; he just had less at bats. He did lead the league in doubles last year, but he's never had 100 RBIs. Joining Ryan Zimmerman as the power center of an Adam Dunn-less DC squad looking to compete for a new armed Stephen Strasburg and a yet to be shown Bryce Harper, there are things that the team must do. However, signing an above average Sasquatch for that long for that much money when even the big boys who can just throw money into the wind and hope for it to hit aren't offering 7 years to a 30+ year old fan favorite in a city that is over 2 hours north...
As Puff Daddy said, "It's all about the Benjamins," and I don't knock him for taking them... I would have, but frankly, I thought we were living in the era of sane baseball and not late life contracts to Derek Bell, Juan Gonzalez, Denny Neagle, and Mike Hampton.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Jebediah Springfield
Until 1796, he was Hans Sprungfeld, a murderous pirate that once tried to kill George Washington, but then, he left Maryland and headed west, and after a series of adventures and a desire not to have marital relations with his cousins, he became Jebediah Springfield, the founder of Springfield. Some point after that, he left his confessions for the world to see:
Know ye who read this there is more to my life than history records. Firstly, I did not tame the legendary buffalo, it was already tame, I merely shot it. Secondly, I have not always been known as Jebediah Springfield. Until 1796, I was Hans Sprungfeld, murderous pirate. And the half wits of this town will never learn the truth. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I write this confession so that my infamy will live on long after my body has succumbed to my infectious diphtheria.
And if that was how it all began, then it wasn’t much different than how the history of baseball began. Sure, there was no Lisa Simpson to ethically debate whether or not to tell the world about it, but eventually the truth would have to come out. In the meantime, baseball needed a founder, and it seemed logical that when Abner Graves “misremembered” having been privy to drawings from Abner Doubleday, the Army Captain became the creator of baseball, and so the historians who were attempting to create a history had found one or at least created a suitable alternative history.
Thus, in creating a truly American national game, this seemed to be much better than simply modifying the game of Rounders and taking from the British more than we wanted to in a day and age nearly a century after Rip Van Winkle had woken up to a new America twenty years after this fledgling country had swapped Georges, for to do that meant that we would be taking her daintyness, Jane Austen, and using her words from Northanger Abbey, "It was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, base-ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books" to originate the national pastime of America. And while Germans would try to claim the earliest remembered mention of "Englischer Baseball" rules, the reality is that the earliest mention of the game that I love is "away flies the boy to the next post and then home with joy, which was written in 1744 by another British person, John Newberry, in his work A Little Pretty Pocket-Book.
And technically, any "American" would have been British at that time as there was no inclination in Tom Jefferson's mind to write a Declaration of Independence to become a new and great country like he would do in another 33 years, but in the that period, a set of years equivalent to the life of Christ, the seeds of my sport would continue to germinate and become something greater, something more American than the British games of rounders and cricket.
For here was an America that was clamoring to be without the unduly English influence, and here was a beautiful new world whose nooks and crannies looked to be discovered while it discovered and created all of its nuances and culture during an age that would truly exhibit the promise of Jeffersonian Idealism. What better way to accomplish it than to do it with baseball diamonds in the fields of the ever expanding towns and villages along the way?
What better way to do it than to build a baseball diamond in the Catskills, which could then be named after a Civil War hero? And still better than that, what could be better than to enshrine the greats of the game within its walls?
Perhaps this is what Harry Chadwick and Albert Spalding had in mind when they created the commission to unveil the hidden history of my game in 1905. Nevertheless, instead of truth, they inherited the memories of an old man’s recollections from a life that never happened. To close the case on history with the nostalgic reminiscing of a the aged and tattered version of a man traveling back to age five and hoping that he managed to somehow remember that he met a man who was actually 155 miles away from where he was supposed to be on that 1839 day, seems a little far-fetched in this objective world of ours, but in the early twentieth century, it was all business as normal, and according to many sources, that half-assed glancing over is the real history of the great game of baseball that we Americans, Latinos, Asians, Canadians, and the smattering of other countries that have been able to field a team for the World Baseball Classic have inherited.
And so it is another hundred years later, I and many others can wonder why Graves would have sent the story in. Perhaps, he was looking to create a brief sense of notoriety by gaining his fifteen minutes of fame from the Akron Beacon Journal. Perhaps, it offered a chance to temporarily escape from his demons. All we know is that in the time after this, Graves managed to gun down his wife in cold blood and spend the rest of his life in an asylum. Perhaps, this is the most fitting end for the first chapter of this literary tale that is the world of baseball.
Whatever the case, it’s the beginning of this story that cements baseball as America’s game. And even if it’s not America’s game in the same way that it was, it’s my game, and that’s why I’ll be typing this story and these biographical expressions of baseball from now until November 4th. Stick with me until the end of the season. It’s going to be a wild ride.
Really.
Know ye who read this there is more to my life than history records. Firstly, I did not tame the legendary buffalo, it was already tame, I merely shot it. Secondly, I have not always been known as Jebediah Springfield. Until 1796, I was Hans Sprungfeld, murderous pirate. And the half wits of this town will never learn the truth. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I write this confession so that my infamy will live on long after my body has succumbed to my infectious diphtheria.
And if that was how it all began, then it wasn’t much different than how the history of baseball began. Sure, there was no Lisa Simpson to ethically debate whether or not to tell the world about it, but eventually the truth would have to come out. In the meantime, baseball needed a founder, and it seemed logical that when Abner Graves “misremembered” having been privy to drawings from Abner Doubleday, the Army Captain became the creator of baseball, and so the historians who were attempting to create a history had found one or at least created a suitable alternative history.
Thus, in creating a truly American national game, this seemed to be much better than simply modifying the game of Rounders and taking from the British more than we wanted to in a day and age nearly a century after Rip Van Winkle had woken up to a new America twenty years after this fledgling country had swapped Georges, for to do that meant that we would be taking her daintyness, Jane Austen, and using her words from Northanger Abbey, "It was not very wonderful that Catherine, who had nothing heroic about her, should prefer cricket, base-ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books" to originate the national pastime of America. And while Germans would try to claim the earliest remembered mention of "Englischer Baseball" rules, the reality is that the earliest mention of the game that I love is "away flies the boy to the next post and then home with joy, which was written in 1744 by another British person, John Newberry, in his work A Little Pretty Pocket-Book.
And technically, any "American" would have been British at that time as there was no inclination in Tom Jefferson's mind to write a Declaration of Independence to become a new and great country like he would do in another 33 years, but in the that period, a set of years equivalent to the life of Christ, the seeds of my sport would continue to germinate and become something greater, something more American than the British games of rounders and cricket.
For here was an America that was clamoring to be without the unduly English influence, and here was a beautiful new world whose nooks and crannies looked to be discovered while it discovered and created all of its nuances and culture during an age that would truly exhibit the promise of Jeffersonian Idealism. What better way to accomplish it than to do it with baseball diamonds in the fields of the ever expanding towns and villages along the way?
What better way to do it than to build a baseball diamond in the Catskills, which could then be named after a Civil War hero? And still better than that, what could be better than to enshrine the greats of the game within its walls?
Perhaps this is what Harry Chadwick and Albert Spalding had in mind when they created the commission to unveil the hidden history of my game in 1905. Nevertheless, instead of truth, they inherited the memories of an old man’s recollections from a life that never happened. To close the case on history with the nostalgic reminiscing of a the aged and tattered version of a man traveling back to age five and hoping that he managed to somehow remember that he met a man who was actually 155 miles away from where he was supposed to be on that 1839 day, seems a little far-fetched in this objective world of ours, but in the early twentieth century, it was all business as normal, and according to many sources, that half-assed glancing over is the real history of the great game of baseball that we Americans, Latinos, Asians, Canadians, and the smattering of other countries that have been able to field a team for the World Baseball Classic have inherited.
And so it is another hundred years later, I and many others can wonder why Graves would have sent the story in. Perhaps, he was looking to create a brief sense of notoriety by gaining his fifteen minutes of fame from the Akron Beacon Journal. Perhaps, it offered a chance to temporarily escape from his demons. All we know is that in the time after this, Graves managed to gun down his wife in cold blood and spend the rest of his life in an asylum. Perhaps, this is the most fitting end for the first chapter of this literary tale that is the world of baseball.
Whatever the case, it’s the beginning of this story that cements baseball as America’s game. And even if it’s not America’s game in the same way that it was, it’s my game, and that’s why I’ll be typing this story and these biographical expressions of baseball from now until November 4th. Stick with me until the end of the season. It’s going to be a wild ride.
Really.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
