Back in the day, Kevin Millar coined the term "Manny being Manny." Today, Millar is a host on Intentional Talk on MLBTV (porn without nudity for the guilty pleasure baseball lover of the world), and Manny is sitting on the sidelines, probably based out of his mind (at least without the worry of failing a drug test), waiting for the Dodgers to send him another $8.33 million of deferred money by the end of the month (he'll get another check for the same amount next year - gotta love $20million contracts - you get paid even when you don't play!). If you're Manny, it sure beats sitting out for a second steroids bust, but you have to do what you have to do.
If you're Millar, it means that you've got a job where you're getting paid to act like the class clown / team leader who keeps the team all loosey goosey together and having fun, doing your job, and making life good. MLBTV has been playing a lot of best of montages from the show. It's good stuff.
But when it comes to the money that Manny is owed and the need to get it to him pronto tonto... this is just another blow to the Dodgers who are racing the Mets to the poorhouse in all of the things that you shouldn't do to run a baseball team, but nevertheless, such is the life of a baseball team. Sometimes, you're up. Sometimes, you're down. It's like Minnesota. You can win a World Series or 2. You can get threatened by Bud Selig with being contracted (but not before you give up Chuck Knoblauch to the Yankees). You can win some playoff games. Joe Nathan can phone in reliever duties and send you home without a ring. Joe Mauer can come to your team as the great catcher of the future. Joe Mauer can get injured and return great and get injured again. You can find your team in last place as your former player and Hall of Famer dies of cancer. It's an endless cycle, but if you're the Baseball Project (or just Craig Finn, the lead singer of the Hold Steady who is doing a guess appearance with you), you can sing a really great song about how much you love them all the same (just don't call them Twinkies).
For the Dodgers, all things not Matt Kemp pretty much suck this year. He's 11 for 23 with 4 moonshots and 8 RBIs in the last week. He's .332 for the season (20 home runs, 56 RBIs, and 15 steals - he's killing it fantasy style - especially because they don't include the 62 strikeouts - imagine what this guy could do if he made contact about 10% more!). He doesn't have Rihanna dragging him down. yeah... life is good except for wondering if his bosses can pay him for working and that whole day to day thing.
But life isn't all bad... It's not all good either. Especially f you're Derek Jeter. You're 6 hits show of 3,000, but you're on the cusp of being out of action for injury. Nevertheless, in this time of need for Jeter's supporters, Ian O' Connor really lays the love on thick for Derek Jeter today, but you know what? It's a great article. Sure, it's a puff piece, but it explains why I can hate the Jeter3000 Love Fest (registered trademark), and still grudingly and in conflict with all I am as a Yankee hater, I still respect the man.
And with that, there are times where you win, and there are times where you lose, but at least you get up and play it again.
What else are you going to do?
Showing posts with label Baseball Project. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baseball Project. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Dan Uggla
Dr. Kevorkian is dead, and while Kurt Vonnegut may want God to bless him, I don't know how I feel. Sometimes, I think that there are too many babies being born into this world, and then I think that my wife was #10 out of 11 kids, and I'm pretty dang happy that her parents kept procreating. But then I go back to Jack, and he's dead, and nothing is going to bring him back. Nothing is going to stop the terminal illnesses of many of his patients, those that wanted or got his help during those times. Nothing is going to help the ones who suffered painfully from the same thing that Lou Gehrig suffered from. And I can't say that I would want to go that way, and I wouldn't want anyone I loved to suffer that way either, but I don't know if I'd want some creepy old dude with a suicide machine setting me up for my final end.
My neighbor's husband died of a prolonged death just recently. We've lived in this house since November of 2009, and we saw him a few times. He never made it to the porch. A couple of times, I went in the house to help move him. He just died slowly, and it was sad watching how much it took out of my neighbor as she witnessed the end of her husband of 50+ years. She never knew it was the end - even when the hospice team came in. He just slipped further and further out of consciousness as his body filled up with toxins, and eventually, that was it. He was gone. Now, she's lost and angry as he isn't there to give her support to do the daily tasks - even though she's done them for ages now. She's trying to fill up her time, and we talk to her for companionship and because she's a good person, but the bitterness of having a person that was so loved gone is hurting her as she spends more time remembering the bad things that were done to him. She still remembers the struggles that they went through and perhaps there is a sense of "looks like we made it," but there's also a sense of we had a hard life.
And some do, but...
The days just get harder and longer, and thoughts of writing out his life's memories are lost to her (the kids aren't interested in this - even if that's now, and you never know what they'll feel years later - I say this as I have stored the memories of ancient times of my own family - 80-90 years ago and those from 70 years or so ago).
And sometimes, it's all about the giving up that seems to be the answer to living. I remember being around my neighbor at times when you could see how much it hurt her to watch the man she loved suffered, and she eluded to feeling like she wanted his suffering to stop - ashamed in part - but still understanding that the man she loved wasn't there any more. But still she held onto his belongings because they were his. She fixed his car up - even though it was old and gone and she really wasn't using it. She still wanted to believe, and she didn't want him to see his life given away before it was gone.
And there is nobility and love and honor in what she did. Now, she just has to move on to accept death and grief. It won't be easy, but it will lead to something good - hopefully.
+++
For the baseball metaphor of all of the things that have gone and are no longer as they were before, we can only look to Dan Uggla. He's hitting .172 with 7 home runs propping up his 37 hits. Sure, 15 of his hits are for extra bases, but he's batting .172! He was killing me for keeping him in the lineup. I bounced between 2nd and 4th place (out of 6 teams), and as soon as I dropped him - acknowledged the end - I went into first place.
It wasn't easy to say goodbye to Uggla. I've liked him. A lot of the players who come up with Florida are really likable and good players, but sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Like Mike Lowell before him... sometimes, the end comes.
The Baseball Project sang of Willie Mays.
There was the sad end of Ken Griffey Jr.
I wasn't the same after the 2001 season of Mark McGwire until the Angels went to championship glory.
Death isn't easy. The cycles of life aren't easy.
I'm not saying that saying goodbye to a loved one is as easy as moving out a fantasy player or bidding goodbye to a favorite player, but in life, all of the things we love, whether human, animal, or larger than life heroes we never see in our daily lives, are important to us. They make us who we are.
They're not easy to put aside, but there comes a time to understand that we have to help them and us when the time comes and to confront things as realistically as possible - whether we want to believe the end is here or not. I wish my neighbor would have seen the signs a little clearer. That would have made this time now a little easier for her.
Just press this button and it will release poison into your veins through the IV that I've set up.
And maybe we've gone on in life as a people long past the point where we're truly ripe. Joseph Heller said something about that, too, when he wrote Catch 22 and spilled the secret of Snowden all over the plane. Life is everything. Being able to live and do the things that we want to do before we get too old and too feeble to go to the good places. I think of my dad not wanting to be alive if he can't hunt and fish. I think to myself of all the joy I get through the physical exercise of hiking while experiencing the beauty of the woods and the world around me as my legs carry me to waterfalls, slot canyons, and mountain views. I wouldn't want to live if I was chained to a chair in the living room of my house, rocking into a slumber that seemed to take ages to get to. Somehow, I believe there has to be a point where we fulfill our need, and that's that. We make peace with the universe, and like Allen Ginsburg, we go "toodle loo."My neighbor's husband died of a prolonged death just recently. We've lived in this house since November of 2009, and we saw him a few times. He never made it to the porch. A couple of times, I went in the house to help move him. He just died slowly, and it was sad watching how much it took out of my neighbor as she witnessed the end of her husband of 50+ years. She never knew it was the end - even when the hospice team came in. He just slipped further and further out of consciousness as his body filled up with toxins, and eventually, that was it. He was gone. Now, she's lost and angry as he isn't there to give her support to do the daily tasks - even though she's done them for ages now. She's trying to fill up her time, and we talk to her for companionship and because she's a good person, but the bitterness of having a person that was so loved gone is hurting her as she spends more time remembering the bad things that were done to him. She still remembers the struggles that they went through and perhaps there is a sense of "looks like we made it," but there's also a sense of we had a hard life.
And some do, but...
The days just get harder and longer, and thoughts of writing out his life's memories are lost to her (the kids aren't interested in this - even if that's now, and you never know what they'll feel years later - I say this as I have stored the memories of ancient times of my own family - 80-90 years ago and those from 70 years or so ago).
And sometimes, it's all about the giving up that seems to be the answer to living. I remember being around my neighbor at times when you could see how much it hurt her to watch the man she loved suffered, and she eluded to feeling like she wanted his suffering to stop - ashamed in part - but still understanding that the man she loved wasn't there any more. But still she held onto his belongings because they were his. She fixed his car up - even though it was old and gone and she really wasn't using it. She still wanted to believe, and she didn't want him to see his life given away before it was gone.
And there is nobility and love and honor in what she did. Now, she just has to move on to accept death and grief. It won't be easy, but it will lead to something good - hopefully.
+++
For the baseball metaphor of all of the things that have gone and are no longer as they were before, we can only look to Dan Uggla. He's hitting .172 with 7 home runs propping up his 37 hits. Sure, 15 of his hits are for extra bases, but he's batting .172! He was killing me for keeping him in the lineup. I bounced between 2nd and 4th place (out of 6 teams), and as soon as I dropped him - acknowledged the end - I went into first place.
It wasn't easy to say goodbye to Uggla. I've liked him. A lot of the players who come up with Florida are really likable and good players, but sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Like Mike Lowell before him... sometimes, the end comes.
The Baseball Project sang of Willie Mays.
There was the sad end of Ken Griffey Jr.
I wasn't the same after the 2001 season of Mark McGwire until the Angels went to championship glory.
Death isn't easy. The cycles of life aren't easy.
I'm not saying that saying goodbye to a loved one is as easy as moving out a fantasy player or bidding goodbye to a favorite player, but in life, all of the things we love, whether human, animal, or larger than life heroes we never see in our daily lives, are important to us. They make us who we are.
They're not easy to put aside, but there comes a time to understand that we have to help them and us when the time comes and to confront things as realistically as possible - whether we want to believe the end is here or not. I wish my neighbor would have seen the signs a little clearer. That would have made this time now a little easier for her.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Bob Feller
Bob Feller died before this blog resurrected. We would have loved to write an obituary for him and all that he did for the Major Leagues, the Negro Leagues, and America when he gave up 1942-1944 to serve in the Navy WITHOUT A REGRET IN THE WORLD. His stats are still beautiful. His introduction of Satchel Paige, though not without controversy for his business sense in the whites vs. blacks games, made it possible for Paige to join him in 1948. Even more than that, it made it possible for Jackie Robinson to make it possible for Satchel.
After a partial season in 1945, he was 26-15 with 348 strikeouts and a 2.18 ERA in 1946. His WHIP was 1.158, and he was a mad man in all aspects of the world. Here was a guy looking to pick up where he left off, and dominate, he did. There was no Cy Young, so he couldn't win that, but he was 6th in the MVP vote. He lost out that year to Ted Williams who also was looking to rebound from the war years, and he was a little lower in ERA to Hal Newhouser, but all in all, was there a better pitcher that year? Detroit was in 2nd place at 92 and 62, while Cleveland was in 6th at 68 and 86. Let's put 26 wins a piece and Feller's 6 more losses into perspective. Feller had 38% of his team's wins! Newhouser was great with 28%, but let's do the math and figure out what a bad defense does.
Feller's losses that year:
2-3 (hard luck)
2-4 (borderline)
2-6 (deserved it)
2-8 (deserved it)
0-1 (1 stinking run for a no decision, at least?!!)
1-9 (deserved it)
5-7 (no decision)
0-2 (hard luck no decision)
0-1 (1 stinking run for a no decision, at least?!!)
1-4 (borderline)
4-5 (deserved it)
6-8 (lucky no decision)
0-4 (borderline)
1-4 (borderline)
0-10 (deserved it)
0-2 (hard luck)
0-3 (hard luck)
1-4 (borderline)
5 of those losses are clearly deserved.
1 no decision was lucky since it turned into a slugfest.
5 of those calls are borderline.
4 of those games were hard luck
2 more were just PURE Walter Johnson-esque betrayal (1-0 losses). This is a man who went 36 complete games and 10 shut outs over the year. Where is the love?
Unfortunately, he passed away on December 15th.
Today, another great player died.
And for that, we need to pay respect for our former greats.
No disrespect to Harmon Killebrew, who died today, but I wrote his obituary of statistics here when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Over the weekend, he went into hospice, and this afternoon, a great man passed away.
In honor of the 573 "home runs that Harmon had" and 1 MVP award, let the Baseball Project sing. Harmon made Minnesota proud from 1961 to 1974.
Hopefully, the tributes on MLBTV and the news will let other people know about this great Hall of Famer who put up a lot of jacks when they still meant something.
After a partial season in 1945, he was 26-15 with 348 strikeouts and a 2.18 ERA in 1946. His WHIP was 1.158, and he was a mad man in all aspects of the world. Here was a guy looking to pick up where he left off, and dominate, he did. There was no Cy Young, so he couldn't win that, but he was 6th in the MVP vote. He lost out that year to Ted Williams who also was looking to rebound from the war years, and he was a little lower in ERA to Hal Newhouser, but all in all, was there a better pitcher that year? Detroit was in 2nd place at 92 and 62, while Cleveland was in 6th at 68 and 86. Let's put 26 wins a piece and Feller's 6 more losses into perspective. Feller had 38% of his team's wins! Newhouser was great with 28%, but let's do the math and figure out what a bad defense does.
Feller's losses that year:
2-3 (hard luck)
2-4 (borderline)
2-6 (deserved it)
2-8 (deserved it)
0-1 (1 stinking run for a no decision, at least?!!)
1-9 (deserved it)
5-7 (no decision)
0-2 (hard luck no decision)
0-1 (1 stinking run for a no decision, at least?!!)
1-4 (borderline)
4-5 (deserved it)
6-8 (lucky no decision)
0-4 (borderline)
1-4 (borderline)
0-10 (deserved it)
0-2 (hard luck)
0-3 (hard luck)
1-4 (borderline)
5 of those losses are clearly deserved.
1 no decision was lucky since it turned into a slugfest.
5 of those calls are borderline.
4 of those games were hard luck
2 more were just PURE Walter Johnson-esque betrayal (1-0 losses). This is a man who went 36 complete games and 10 shut outs over the year. Where is the love?
Unfortunately, he passed away on December 15th.
Today, another great player died.
And for that, we need to pay respect for our former greats.
No disrespect to Harmon Killebrew, who died today, but I wrote his obituary of statistics here when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Over the weekend, he went into hospice, and this afternoon, a great man passed away.
In honor of the 573 "home runs that Harmon had" and 1 MVP award, let the Baseball Project sing. Harmon made Minnesota proud from 1961 to 1974.
Hopefully, the tributes on MLBTV and the news will let other people know about this great Hall of Famer who put up a lot of jacks when they still meant something.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Roy Halladay
Philadelphia has long been known for its doctors. There was Dr. J and his sweet 70s afro flying through the sky for slam dunks with style and class. There was Bill Cosby delivering babies and proving that the African American place was wherever their talents and drive could take them. The University of Penn and Temple both have famous doctoral schools and churn out lots of great medical professionals, but no doctor in the city of Philadelphia is quite as famous as Doc Halladay (and while he may not win 30 games like The Baseball Project predicts, he could come very close).
This was a perfect comeback after the debacle against Milwaulkee (6.2 innings, 6 earned, 3 whiffs), but it doesn't disguise the hatred that I feel for Philadelphia's announcers (for their partisan nature and dullness) since the days of Harry Kalas shufflinging off this mortal coil. However, yesterday was about watching a game, so it's not like I really cared who was commentating, but when I have to listen to the backpedaling after "innings counts don't matter" and then going into "he's getting a lot of innings" after hearing "he's going to want to finish this game," I just want to vomit.
Yesterday, he was sitting down Padres like a defrocking convention gone haywire. All in all, he had 14 friars getting irate in the dugout by the end of the 8th inning, but then, he blew the 2 hit shutout in the 9th inning with 3 more hits, and so in came Antonio Bastardo to seal the deal on the Phillies first home sweep of the Padres since 1979 and the days of Ozzie Smith.
This was a perfect comeback after the debacle against Milwaulkee (6.2 innings, 6 earned, 3 whiffs), but it doesn't disguise the hatred that I feel for Philadelphia's announcers (for their partisan nature and dullness) since the days of Harry Kalas shufflinging off this mortal coil. However, yesterday was about watching a game, so it's not like I really cared who was commentating, but when I have to listen to the backpedaling after "innings counts don't matter" and then going into "he's getting a lot of innings" after hearing "he's going to want to finish this game," I just want to vomit.I'm from the Nolan Ryan school of pitching. Three runs in 6 innings is not a quality start. I'm for guys finishing their games and leaving losers like Dan Wheeler in the breadline or forcing him to find a real job (instead of being the designated innings eater whipping boy, which I'm sure every team needs, but still... I could do that job for far less money). I'm for removing the role of all closers except consistent ones (something that Mariano Rivera has been faltering on lately with his second blown save of the year on Sunday). Even then, I'm for bringing them in when the door needs slammed shut. I'm for multiple innings saves. Giving Bastardo a 1 pitch save for inducing an out... bullshit (in the words of Matthew McConaughey to Kate Hudson - when she wasn't ruining herself being A-Rod's non-Madonna arm candy - then again, with her track record of men, she's not exactly a prize herself).
Nevertheless, if there is no limit to pitches - especially in light of finishing a gem of a game (and I heard this same line with Josh Johnson and Anibal Sanchez's no hitter flirtations), then they should do the deed or lose it all.
Yesterday, the good folks at MLBTV (the baseball fetishist's porn without nipples network) showed game 7 of the 1992 NLCS - Pirates against Braves... the beginning of all that was Atlanta and Barry Bond's stake through the heart to Andy Van Slyke and the rest of the Pittsburgh faithful (no winning seasons in almost 20 years). Drabek gets to the 9th and is dealing, but then the wheels come off. It's a pitcher refusing to let the ball free and doing what it takes to win or lose on his shoulders because he got the team here, and goll dang it... he's reveling in the glory or sulking in defeat. One misplayed ball later, Sid Bream comes home on a single to Bonds, and despite all those surgeries, he's under the glove, and that's it.
But that's a pitcher letting it all hang out.
It's Pedro in 2003 with Grady Little not demanding the ball. If you don't demand it, you have to give in to the pitcher's ego.
And if it's Halladay, there's an ego. One run in with two on in the ninth - to pull the ball is to disrespect your workhorse. Let him win it or lose it. He's got the stuff... even if he's tiring out - or don't bring him out for the 9th. You (Charlie Manuel) are the one who left him hit... now you're the one that should leave him pitch.
But all the same... creating adorable little Muppets that get yanked after 6 innings and therapy headcases that need to be reassured that they're ok even when they're not (Brad Lidge) just shows how far we've come from tough pitchers to move into a world of pampered athletes.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Neil Walker
Beginnings are beautiful. They can go the other way, too, but alas... there's something to be said for playing games when one isn't mathematically eliminated. For example, Kansas City is off to a 4and1 start. Baltimore is off to a 4and0 start, while the Red Sox overuse of Verizon to phone in the season continues with a loss to Cleveland - a stat that doesn't fare them well for a weekend series against New York, who finally LOST to Minnesota, something that is about as rare as sun on one of my day's off to do something, but yeah... it's the start of the season and for new grass on the field and fans in the seats - unless you're in Cleveland where less than 10,000 fans came to watch their team beat Boston. If you're Adam Dunn, you're apparently wanting to keep Matt Holliday company on the appendectomy list, which is at least more positive than being a Rockies pitcher since 2/5 of their starting rotation is already suffering maladies. This definitely doesn't bode well for real or fantasy teams as there is a need for a big bop from certain players and to see Evan Longoria singing those DL Blues (thank you, Baseball Project), it doesn't look promising. If you're Nick Hundley, you're sitting on top of the world - 8for15 with a .533 batting average to lead the league in offense generation. This is helping San Diego to keep it tight in the NL West, a division that's going to get more competitive as the teams look to capitalize on the parity between each other. Hell, between the Giants, the Padres, the Rockies, the Dodgers, and the DBacks, all of the teams have been to the dance in the past 10 years. Only the DBacks are pretty much eliminated from jump, and if they rebuild, they could be back in the flow soon. A sound GM could definitely make a play for this year or next year with ANY of those top 4 teams - barring injury and having career or contract year explosions from some of their borderline players. But if you're already eliminated, and we're talking about you Pittsburgh, a team that may NEVER EVER see a winning season again, you play for July in order to get traded to a competitive team somewhere else, and that seems like what Neil Walker may be doing. He has 1 full season and a little bit of 2 others under his belt, and he's hitting .333, which is a good sign. He's got 3 doubles and a home run, and he's also got 7 RBIs. Last year, he had 12 home runs, 66 RBIs, and a .296 average for the season (just over 400 at bats), but he did whiff 83 times. This year, he's leading the league in that number. Seeing as teams are willing to be patient with their Mark Reynolds and Ryan Howard type players, this may not be such a conundrum - unless you're batting .063 for Cleveland and are generally known as a player worthy of being a bobblehead giveaway. So here's to all those guys making the cut and those who are trying. And for all of you guys on the DL, there's this to aspire to.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Bob Gibson
There's something about watching a pitcher dominate a game that really says what a baseball game can be. I can still remember Pedro Martinez coming in to Baltimore in May of 2000 and annihilating the Orioles in a 15 strikeout 2 hit masterpiece complete game shutout (this became Bill Simmon's "Pedro and the Pantheon" in the book Now I can Die in Peace). The Orioles fans were gone, and Pedro was on mop up duty for that one. However, Pedro's best game was his perfect game that wasn't - June 3, 1995. He was still an Expo (and there still were Expos in baseball at the time). He made it 9 innings and 1 batter into the 10th, he let up a hit. Like Harvey Haddix, he was betrayed by an equally great opponent (Joey Hamilton, who let up 3 hits). However, his Expos won. Haddix's Pirates... not so much. Lew Burdette went 13 innings of shutout ball (and 12 hits, no walks) to win a shutout while Haddix let up 1 hit and 1 walk - enough to lose the greatest game ever pitched (registered trademark).
Larry Walker, an Expo at the time, said it best about Pedro...
"You just don't expect a guy weighing ninety-seven pounds to throw ninety-nine miles an hour. He's just very aggressive. I never really watched Bob Gibson pitch, but I get the feeling he's like a Gibson. If he has to throw one under your chin, he'll do it."
And Pedro was a man who owned the plate in the same way as Gibson did. My favorite Pedro moments involve him riling up his opponents. I still contend Don Zimmer got what he asked for. However, the fight with Jorge Posada... classic Pedro. But the best Pedro was starting a game off on August 29, 2000, by smashing a ball into Gerald Williams' hand. Williams got PO'ed and came after Pedro and wailed on him, but for all the anger that he had, the Devil Rays imploded for 8 full innings until God intervened and brought the no hitter (save the hit on Williams' hand) to an end after Pedro's cross necklace broke and he let up a double.
Gibson was much the same way. He owned those 17 inches. Roger Angell said that he was the most formidable and scary pitcher of all time when he spoke about Gibson for Ken Burns' Baseball. He once hit his former room mate high on the chest to show him that they weren't on the same team anymore. In 1968, he had a 1.12 ERA, but somehow went 22 and 9. How a man can do both of those things boggles the mind (save the Cardinals offense). In 1967, he won the World Series on the strength of a home run that he hit - finishing the World Series 3-0 with a 1.00 ERA. The man was a machine and a class act all around.
Summarizing what baseball meant, a pitcher has to get batters off his plate. Be it Pedro, the Big Unit, Bob Gibson, or Sal "The Barber" Maglie. As the Baseball Project sings... "high and inside."
In a game where Barry Bonds could wear tank armor on his arms in getting all of the advantage for home runs, we need something to take the edge away from hitters...
A little chin music will do nicely.
Larry Walker, an Expo at the time, said it best about Pedro...
"You just don't expect a guy weighing ninety-seven pounds to throw ninety-nine miles an hour. He's just very aggressive. I never really watched Bob Gibson pitch, but I get the feeling he's like a Gibson. If he has to throw one under your chin, he'll do it."
And Pedro was a man who owned the plate in the same way as Gibson did. My favorite Pedro moments involve him riling up his opponents. I still contend Don Zimmer got what he asked for. However, the fight with Jorge Posada... classic Pedro. But the best Pedro was starting a game off on August 29, 2000, by smashing a ball into Gerald Williams' hand. Williams got PO'ed and came after Pedro and wailed on him, but for all the anger that he had, the Devil Rays imploded for 8 full innings until God intervened and brought the no hitter (save the hit on Williams' hand) to an end after Pedro's cross necklace broke and he let up a double.
Gibson was much the same way. He owned those 17 inches. Roger Angell said that he was the most formidable and scary pitcher of all time when he spoke about Gibson for Ken Burns' Baseball. He once hit his former room mate high on the chest to show him that they weren't on the same team anymore. In 1968, he had a 1.12 ERA, but somehow went 22 and 9. How a man can do both of those things boggles the mind (save the Cardinals offense). In 1967, he won the World Series on the strength of a home run that he hit - finishing the World Series 3-0 with a 1.00 ERA. The man was a machine and a class act all around.
Summarizing what baseball meant, a pitcher has to get batters off his plate. Be it Pedro, the Big Unit, Bob Gibson, or Sal "The Barber" Maglie. As the Baseball Project sings... "high and inside."
In a game where Barry Bonds could wear tank armor on his arms in getting all of the advantage for home runs, we need something to take the edge away from hitters...
A little chin music will do nicely.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Ichiro Suzuki
In honor of the Baseball Project's Volume 2, the rest of this week is dedicated to the subjects of their songs, and for today, that subject is Ichiro Suzuki, who has been referred to as a $17million singles hitter, but that's not really all that he is. While he isn't the only Ichiro in the world of ESPN (Ichiro Chiba also pops up), but he is a 1-word name and a 10 year dominant force in the MLB.
From 1993 to 2000, he had 1,278 hits and batted well over .300 every year except his first year, which was limited to only 64 at bats. His high water mark was .387 in his walk year, and he even hit 25 home runs in one of his Japanese seasons. Like Ty Cobb who preferred the game of "small ball," Ichiro proved that he could hit home runs if he wanted to by hitting 15 in 2005, but for the most part, his game is about getting on base via the baseball bat (he's only walked 457 times in 10 American seasons, and only once did he have the patience to get 60+ walks). However, Pete Rose summed it up by saying that Ichiro is "the luckiest man ever to get that many infield hits." Rose then relegated Japanese ball to saying that "it's basically Triple-A ball."
Not hitting a country when it's down, but Japanese players have long known that to truly make their name, they have to be imports, and so they come to this country to be great. And when they do, their fans don't discard them, but they only love them more, which was shown in the battles between Ichiro and Godzilla (Hideki Matsui).
And for his country's love and his prolific rate of hits (5 more than George Sisler's former record from 1920 - 262 in 2004). In fact, 5 of his 10 US seasons are in the top 100 on Baseball Almanac. However, he's never hit .400 and unless he gets more patient, he won't either (the season that he smashed Sisler's record, he hit .372, which is still well beneath where he needed to be - mostly because he only had 49 walks. Sisler hit .407 in 70 less at bats with roughly the same amount of walks). That said, he's not even much of a doubles hitter, and while he can hit triples, those have declined as well. What he is is a solid get on base guy. When he's there, his rate of steals is 383 to 88 on successful versus caught stealing (roughly 4 to 1).
He's a hell of a glove man, too, but what he really is would be the level of success that Malcolm Gladwell talks about in Outliers. In short, Ichiro is 10,000 hours of practice, which is the level of practice that it takes to be great (not just good) at something. We hear about this in Ken Burns' The 10th Inning, and we've heard about it in many stories about Ichiro. Despite being the second son, he was named "The First Son" and he went on to follow in his father's dreams of baseball with a tiny bat at age 3. By his early days that would be equivalent to little league, he was hitting for 4 hours a day. A natural right hander, he learned to hit left handed to get an extra step out of the batter's box to move down to first base. Call it lucky or just call it another outlier. Like height for a basketball player and like birth day for getting into school and league, Ichiro was able to do something that many of us only dream 0f - standing in the batter's box and making it count.
And while he's never been to the World Series and he probably won't with Seattle's current team, he is an all star fixture. The last time that Seattle had a team, he was their MVP (2001). Oh yeah... he was the Rookie of the Year that season, too.
And if he's "just" a single's hitter, it should be noted that he twice led the league in INTENTIONAL base on balls.
So if Ichiro goes to the moon as the Baseball Project sing, don't you want to be there to see it happen? I know that I do.
From 1993 to 2000, he had 1,278 hits and batted well over .300 every year except his first year, which was limited to only 64 at bats. His high water mark was .387 in his walk year, and he even hit 25 home runs in one of his Japanese seasons. Like Ty Cobb who preferred the game of "small ball," Ichiro proved that he could hit home runs if he wanted to by hitting 15 in 2005, but for the most part, his game is about getting on base via the baseball bat (he's only walked 457 times in 10 American seasons, and only once did he have the patience to get 60+ walks). However, Pete Rose summed it up by saying that Ichiro is "the luckiest man ever to get that many infield hits." Rose then relegated Japanese ball to saying that "it's basically Triple-A ball."
Not hitting a country when it's down, but Japanese players have long known that to truly make their name, they have to be imports, and so they come to this country to be great. And when they do, their fans don't discard them, but they only love them more, which was shown in the battles between Ichiro and Godzilla (Hideki Matsui).
And for his country's love and his prolific rate of hits (5 more than George Sisler's former record from 1920 - 262 in 2004). In fact, 5 of his 10 US seasons are in the top 100 on Baseball Almanac. However, he's never hit .400 and unless he gets more patient, he won't either (the season that he smashed Sisler's record, he hit .372, which is still well beneath where he needed to be - mostly because he only had 49 walks. Sisler hit .407 in 70 less at bats with roughly the same amount of walks). That said, he's not even much of a doubles hitter, and while he can hit triples, those have declined as well. What he is is a solid get on base guy. When he's there, his rate of steals is 383 to 88 on successful versus caught stealing (roughly 4 to 1).
He's a hell of a glove man, too, but what he really is would be the level of success that Malcolm Gladwell talks about in Outliers. In short, Ichiro is 10,000 hours of practice, which is the level of practice that it takes to be great (not just good) at something. We hear about this in Ken Burns' The 10th Inning, and we've heard about it in many stories about Ichiro. Despite being the second son, he was named "The First Son" and he went on to follow in his father's dreams of baseball with a tiny bat at age 3. By his early days that would be equivalent to little league, he was hitting for 4 hours a day. A natural right hander, he learned to hit left handed to get an extra step out of the batter's box to move down to first base. Call it lucky or just call it another outlier. Like height for a basketball player and like birth day for getting into school and league, Ichiro was able to do something that many of us only dream 0f - standing in the batter's box and making it count.
And while he's never been to the World Series and he probably won't with Seattle's current team, he is an all star fixture. The last time that Seattle had a team, he was their MVP (2001). Oh yeah... he was the Rookie of the Year that season, too.
And if he's "just" a single's hitter, it should be noted that he twice led the league in INTENTIONAL base on balls.
So if Ichiro goes to the moon as the Baseball Project sing, don't you want to be there to see it happen? I know that I do.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Kirby Puckett
Spring has sprung. Life is good.
The Hold Steady have always been an incredible band. Sometimes, you'll hear them referred to as the best bar band in America. Last year's Heaven is Wherever was a fantastic CD that was even better than the previous effort Stay Positive, which was on constant rotation as were their previous album Almost Killed Me. Separation Sunday and Boys and Girls in America were really good, too. "Hurricane J" "Barely Breathing," and "The Weekenders" stood out on one of the best discs of the year or any year in ways that would make "Killer Parties," "Your Little Hoodrat Friend," and "Stuck Between Stations" proud.
This month, their lead singer Craig Finn is back with the Baseball Project, a combination of artists from a lot of 1980s alternative bands like Steve Wynn, Scott McGaughy, Peter Buck, and Linda Pittmon. Six songs into the disc (Volume 2: High and Inside) and his song "Don't Call Them Twinkies" not only stands out as the best song on the album, but it stands as one of the best tunes of the year.
Like most songs that he sings, he gets all home state proud for teams he never knew personally (the Harmon Killebrew era) to the modern team with Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau via the Kirby Puckett era and that great Jack Morris game 7 (we'll be saving that for another day).
In 12 years, Puckett did a lot to earn his reputation that took him to Cooperstown. He batted .318 and led his team to World Series victories in 1987 (against St. Louis) and 1991 (against Atlanta). He was a home run hitter when he needed to be and solid at the bat at all times. He was beloved to the point where he was mourned for both contracting glaucoma (a disease he went on to fight in charitable ways) and in early death as an enlarged version of his once athletic frame. Somewhere in between, he was charged with sexual assault and it was hard for Twins Nation to see him in that way and to see him as the great baseball player that he was.
So we never remember him for the other history - even if Sports Illustrated covered it thoroughly.
And that's probably for the best. Who wants to think of our heroes as womanizing and abusive scum on the outside? It's better to see them for the fact that they can hit game and World Series saving home runs in game 6 of 1991. And he did it in extra innings to prevent the complete 180 degree turn around that was the 1991 Braves dynasty ignition.
And for the fact that Finn can sing memories that bring us back to the good ol' days of a team that was almost removed from the league altogether in the 1990s (but not before New York could extract Chuck Knoblauch and his soon to be unreliable arm from them), we have something really good.
Sitting 4 songs into a CD that features several songs about the Red Sox, the Giants, Ichiro, Pete Rose, and Reggie Jackson, you'll find "Don't Call Them Twinkies." Pick it up, download it, and enjoy it as the final days before the baseball season begins.
The Hold Steady have always been an incredible band. Sometimes, you'll hear them referred to as the best bar band in America. Last year's Heaven is Wherever was a fantastic CD that was even better than the previous effort Stay Positive, which was on constant rotation as were their previous album Almost Killed Me. Separation Sunday and Boys and Girls in America were really good, too. "Hurricane J" "Barely Breathing," and "The Weekenders" stood out on one of the best discs of the year or any year in ways that would make "Killer Parties," "Your Little Hoodrat Friend," and "Stuck Between Stations" proud.
This month, their lead singer Craig Finn is back with the Baseball Project, a combination of artists from a lot of 1980s alternative bands like Steve Wynn, Scott McGaughy, Peter Buck, and Linda Pittmon. Six songs into the disc (Volume 2: High and Inside) and his song "Don't Call Them Twinkies" not only stands out as the best song on the album, but it stands as one of the best tunes of the year.
Like most songs that he sings, he gets all home state proud for teams he never knew personally (the Harmon Killebrew era) to the modern team with Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau via the Kirby Puckett era and that great Jack Morris game 7 (we'll be saving that for another day).
In 12 years, Puckett did a lot to earn his reputation that took him to Cooperstown. He batted .318 and led his team to World Series victories in 1987 (against St. Louis) and 1991 (against Atlanta). He was a home run hitter when he needed to be and solid at the bat at all times. He was beloved to the point where he was mourned for both contracting glaucoma (a disease he went on to fight in charitable ways) and in early death as an enlarged version of his once athletic frame. Somewhere in between, he was charged with sexual assault and it was hard for Twins Nation to see him in that way and to see him as the great baseball player that he was.
So we never remember him for the other history - even if Sports Illustrated covered it thoroughly.
And that's probably for the best. Who wants to think of our heroes as womanizing and abusive scum on the outside? It's better to see them for the fact that they can hit game and World Series saving home runs in game 6 of 1991. And he did it in extra innings to prevent the complete 180 degree turn around that was the 1991 Braves dynasty ignition.
And for the fact that Finn can sing memories that bring us back to the good ol' days of a team that was almost removed from the league altogether in the 1990s (but not before New York could extract Chuck Knoblauch and his soon to be unreliable arm from them), we have something really good.
Sitting 4 songs into a CD that features several songs about the Red Sox, the Giants, Ichiro, Pete Rose, and Reggie Jackson, you'll find "Don't Call Them Twinkies." Pick it up, download it, and enjoy it as the final days before the baseball season begins.
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