The season ended November 1st, just 114 days ago. In some ways, it feels like yesterday; and in other ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. But one thing is certain, as players report to training camp, your team, my team, your buddy’s team, your rotisserie team (Millenials, look it up), won’t look the same.
Not counting free agent signings, since November 5th, there have been roughly (sometimes the deals are split into multiple parts) there have been 62 trades involving roughly (again, it is not an exact science) 161 players. Said differently, it was as if each team completed at least two trades, and more than six full 25-man rosters turned over, in 3½ months. You may want to read the SI Baseball Preview issue (that is the one that comes after the decidedly non-sports edition) a little more carefully this year.
As the players take the fields across Arizona and Florida, you may need more than a scorecard to keep track of all the new names on the backs of all the new uniforms. By October of each season, we feel solid in our knowledge of the teams and the players on the field. But then the World Series ends, and the off-season begins. The Hot Stove has become a rite of passage, another integral part of the game. Do any of us long for the time when the Reserve Clause was in effect and we knew who would show up each Spring because they were on the roster the previous Fall? The business of baseball has become so huge, so costly, so treacherous, that teams need to continually make upgrades (see, Red Sox, Diamondbacks, Giants, et al.) or persistently make downgrades (see, Phillies, Brewers, Braves, et al.).
In short, the only constant is change.
The subtitle of this Blog is “Baseball as Life”. With Spring upon us (at least in Florida, Arizona, and Southern California), and baseball season knocking on the door, and with the litany of things going on in my life, lately I have been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about life . . . and change.
Whenever I meet a parent-to-be, I give them the cold, hard truth that (a) the first three months after birth will suck, no matter what, and (b) as soon as you get the hang of any given phase, your child will move out of that phase and you will start anew. As with your favorite baseball team, in parenthood, the only constant is change.
The books we buy for our overly-coddled, pillow-protected, helicopter-hovered children try to explain that “change is strange”. But kids are resilient; they adapt and move on. It is us parents that need to read those books.
I remember a few years back when I was lamenting that a nanny who had been with our family for many years intended to leave. “How will the kids react?” I wondered. But, really, it wasn’t the kids I was worried about . . . it was me. How would I cope with a new person in my home, fixing our meals, driving my kids? The kids, they were fine – change wasn’t strange for them; change was strange for me.
As with a new starting pitcher or a new lead-off hitter, we must deal with the changes that happen around us each and every day. Because we are “old” and set in our ways, each change feels monumental. However, our kids live in a world of constant change – change doesn’t faze them. Kids are less dogmatic and more willing to accept something new, so change isn’t strange, it is just part of who and how they are. They see changes every day: they attend new schools; girls they have known since pre-school now have boobs; boys they used to bathe with now have hair in different places and deeper voices; they have new coaches and new teammates. Change is their constant, and they just roll with it.
But every so often, changes occur that have a lasting impact – on both us and our kids. Recently I (and friends and family) have been touched by many life events – both mitzvahs and misfortune. In just the past few weeks, I have attended a bar mitzvah, hosted a bar mitzvah, attended a funeral, paid respects at a Shiva house, and visited a dear friend in the ICU. Each one of these “experiences” represented a major life event, and represented a life-change, writ large. These changes were both strange and scary.
This isn’t Greinke signing with the Diamondbacks or the Yankees getting Chapman for the bullpen – these were life and death situations that adults – let alone kids – have a hard time dealing with.
Every night for what seemed like two weeks I would come home spent. I must have looked as haggard as I felt, as my kids repeatedly asked “what’s wrong?” and “are you okay?”.
But how do you explain to a child that their friend’s father passed away, without raising all sorts of fear in them – especially when this man’s death brought up all sorts of fears in you?
How do respond when your child – with bright-eyed optimism – asks if the friend you visited in the hospital is getting better?
How do you conceptualize the idea that “giving up” is sometimes noble and dignified, and not cowardly or weak?
How do communicate the pride you feel watching your child on the Bima, knowing all of things you know, but are simply incapable of putting into words.
As we watch our children grow and reach certain milestones, we kvell at their accomplishments. But when we step back and realize how much time has passed since _________ (fill in the blank), we cannot help but get slapped in the face by the backhand of mortality.
And, as good parents, we must address our own mortality in private, away from our kids, so as to protect them from unnecessary concern or worry. Dealing with aging is not a change that our kids cotton to; seeing a parent move more slowly, or not be able to participate like they used to, or creak as they get off the couch, are not changes that our kids just accept. Seeing a parent get sick, and have to go to the hospital, and take all sorts of medicine, is not okay to kids. It scares them. And it disconcerts us. And so are the days of our lives.
The seasons change, the players change, the uniforms change, and our connection with our kids change. And maybe the start of the new season is – like Spring itself – an opportunity for renewal, for a fresh start; a chance to knock that rust off our relationship with our kids and figure out how to deal with the “new” them. I blinked and my little boy was wearing a suit and tie and carrying the Torah. I know I will blink again and he will be wearing a mortar board.
I often joke that my life feels very much like Groundhog Day. The days bleed into each other, the weeks become months, the months become years. But, without me even knowing it, slowly, incrementally, everything is changing. While it may all feel the same, in fact, the only constant is change.
So go home, grab a pencil, and mark your kids’ heights in the door jamb – you will be shocked at what you see.
And then grab the latest issue of Baseball America, or SI, or Baseball Prospectus, and see what changes happened since the Royals hoisted the World Series trophy on November 1st – you will be shocked at what you read.
And then grab your kid, a beer, and a dog, and settle into the bleachers (or box seats, if that’s how you roll), and enjoy another season of the greatest sport on Earth. Because, even in a world where the only constant is change, some things simply don’t: the smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, and roar of the crowd . . . and for one more season, the sound of Vin Scully’s voice.
Another January, and another life-changing day for a former Major Leaguer. And another day, week, month (?) of hand-wringing over the votes, the voting process, and the eventual end of the world as we know it because some former athlete (?) won’t be honored on a hot summer day in upstate New York.
Too many words have been written – over the past few weeks especially – regarding the Hall of Fame and PEDs and protectors of the game and morality police and integrity clauses, etc., etc. for me to think I can add anything interesting to the canon. And yet, I do.
We have heard from esteemed writers, analysts, and pundits about why the Rule of 10, about why the 10-year limitation, about why the 5% threshold, about why the now-ever-so-important integrity clause, are all shams, and merely in place to keep deserving players out of the Hall of Fame. By and large, I agree with most of the theories. A quick rundown for those of you not steeped in the inner workings of Hall of Fame voting rules:
The Rule of 10 is ridiculous for the simple reason that, in some years, there are more than 10 deserving candidates. A writer shouldn’t have to make some Job-like decision as between equally qualified players just to fit within a 10-person box. And if people are really worried that opening this up to a simple “Yes” or “No” vote will throw open the Hall’s doors to David Eckstein and Mark Grudzielanek, the 75% requirement should quell their concerns (Ed. Note: A player needs to be on at least 75% of the ballots to gain entry.)
The 10-Year Limitation, when read in conjunction with the Rule of 10, disqualifies certain players just when they are getting some momentum for potential induction. Do you believe Edgar Martinez will get an additional 32% of the votes over the next 3 years – especially when he is competing with other players within the Rule of 10? The old rule allowed for 15 years of eligibility, and it was no skin off the Hall’s back to keep that in place. The new Rule of 10 has created a logjam of potentially worthy players, and, by definition (rule), some players get left off. Which leads to . . .
I can live with the 5% threshold (i.e., a player must appear on at least 5% of the ballots to remain eligible), but it does have Draconian consequences. Do I think Jim Edmonds is a Hall of Famer? No. But I think he merits a discussion for more than one vote. Well, that ain’t gonna happen, as he only appeared 2.5% of the ballots in his first year, and so he will no longer be part of the discussion/vote.
With respect to the integrity clause, see below (filed, in most instances, under “hypocrisy”).
But let’s not deal with the rules, as those have been covered ad nauseum. One angle that has not been hit (hard enough?) is the kids. And while it may be cliché, I must implore the Hall of Fame and the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) to “think of the children!”.
As I have written here before, I view the Hall of Fame as a baseball museum. And I am not alone in that assessment. You know who else believes it is a museum? The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. It is right there in the title.
And, in case there was any confusion, their home page specifically states: “The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum is a not-for-profit educational institution dedicated to preserving the history of the game, honoring its outstanding contributors and connecting generations of fans.”
Based on the foregoing, it begs the question as to why the HoF Board of Directors, and more importantly, the BBWAA, feel the need to be the protectors of the game? Why do individual writers take it upon themselves to decide – for themselves – who has the right to be enshrined in the hallowed halls? Why hasn’t the Hall of Fame stepped in to formally instruct the BBWAA that its writers are required to abide by both the rules (see above) and the Hall’s mission statement?
Since they haven’t, I will. If any member of the BBWAA is reading this, allow me to break down the Hall of Fame’s exact words (shout out to Greg Brady):
I. The Hall of Fame is an educational institution. Taken to the most absurd extreme, the HOF is a little red school house where adults and children alike can go to learn about this great game. And even better, there are no tests or rulers to the backs of hands. It is a giant classroom. And it is up to us – as parents – to make sure that the lessons taught within those walls resonate with our children; and that responsibility does and should require that we parse through the good and bad, and explain the difference. We parents don’t need stodgy writers doing that work for us.
II. The Hall of Fame is dedicated to preserving the history of the game. Maybe it is written in invisible ink, but I cannot see where it states that the HOF is dedicated to preserving only the positive, feel-good, highly moral history of the game. Do our kids’ history classes take Thomas Jefferson out of textbooks because he engaged in activities (slave-ownership) that we find morally repugnant? No, because it is our nation’s history – for better or worse. How about the massacre at My Lai? Do we just pretend that never happened? And more on point, Babe Ruth (drinker, lothario), Ty Cobb (racist sonofabitch), Willie Mays (admitted amphetamine user), Gaylord Perry (admitted cheater – hell, his autobiography is called “Me and the Spitter: An Autobiographical Confession”), and many, many more players who could use a decent Yom Kippur fast have been inducted into the Hall of Fame. Our past is checkered, and it from that past that we (and, more importantly, our kids) learn important lessons; lessons that can inform and instruct behavior in the future.
III. The Hall of Fame honors its outstanding contributors. Without parsing words, how do we define “outstanding”? If you define “outstanding” as “free from performance enhancing drugs” – as many writers seem to have do on each ballot – then we need to dig deeper and define “performance enhancing drugs”. We have scads of players in the Hall who took amphetamines, snorted cocaine, and ingested other substances that were technically, practically, and actually illegal. But, if that is how you define “outstanding”, don’t you have to also define it as “free from illegally getting a competitive advantage”? We have scads of players in the Hall who admittedly cheated the game (via corked bats, sharpened spikes, loaded baseballs, and the like).
And, before we even get started, I guess we need to define “honor”. Does “honor” only mean a bronze plaque? Can “honor” include having key pieces of a player’s equipment in the archives and on display, referencing momentous events and key records? Because we have scads of memorabilia in the HoF that was once owned and used by the very same players who are now essentially being blackballed from Hall. Maybe we should take a second to teach our kids a little about hypocrisy.
How do the keepers of the Hall justify having the balls from Roger Clemens’ two 20-strike out games, but not his bust? How about Barry Bonds’ bats from record-breaking homeruns, but not his plaque? Do these custodians believe it is okay for the Hall of Fame to honor events in the game but not those who contributed to those events?
IV. Lastly, a written goal of the Hall of Fame is connecting generations of fans. So I would ask this question of the gatekeepers: How do I connect my generation with my kids’ generation if an entire era is precluded from admission? How do I walk your hallowed halls and “connect” my generation with my kid’s generation if the pitcher with the most wins is not there? If the slugger with the most home runs is not there? If the hitter with the most hits is not there? If (and I am forlornly looking 6 years into the future) the guy who was one of the greatest post-season hitters of all time is not there? Explain to me, denizens of Mt. Pious, how to have a discussion about things that are not there. When my father was born, the game was segregated; when I was born, players openly smoked in the dugout, snorted cocaine, took amphetamines between innings, and were ostensibly owned by the owners; when my son was born, players were putting up gaudy statistics using every manner of drug under the sun and inside a syringe. All of that happened. And no amount of white washing, or Rule of 10, or 10-year Limitations, or “integrity clause” arguments can change that history. All these restrictions do is disconnect one generation from the next.
I have never been to the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. I plan to go this summer for the first time, and I could not be more excited. However, the experience will be less – how much less I cannot be sure – because it will not have some of the players who need to be there to educate my son, to preserve the history of the game, to connect my generation to my son’s. In short, the experience will be less because the Hall of Fame – due to the HoF Board of Director’s and the BBWAA’s unique concept of propriety – has failed to lived up to the Hall’s own mission statement, to the Hall’s own standards.
By failing to provide a complete history – warts and all – they have collectively failed to abide by their own integrity clause.
From Mary Poppins to The Simpsons and to countless child welfare tomes in between, “think of the children” has been used in its literal sense to advocate for children’s rights. So, in that spirit, I ask, no, beg of the Hall of Fame and the Baseball Writers of America to “think of the children!”
It’s hard to be a billionaire. It is increasingly difficult to be the richest guy on the block. It’s not fair when you have more money than anyone else, and everyone expects you to spend it like a drunken sailor on shore leave. And despite what people may want, that is not how you run a business (or raise a kid, for that matter).
A whole lot of ink was spilled last week when the Arizona Diamondbacks outbid (?) the Los Angeles Guggenheims for the services of Zack Greinke. People from far and wide bitched and moaned. The hordes lamented: “The Dodgers have an $8.35 billion television deal (insert 65% blackout comment here); Chavez Ravine has hosted more fans than any other park each of the past three seasons; the Bums raised ticket prices . . . again. Any yet, the owners couldn’t cough up an additional $50M to keep Greinke!”
Think about that for a second: just an additional $50M. Sure that is a lot of money, claimed the experts (read: fans), but it would have been spread over 6 years. Okay, let’s do that math: that’s $8.3M/year. Said – or or sung – differently (and keeping with the time of year), the $8.3M/year that people wanted the Dodgers to pay Greinke could buy:
Twelve Gran-dals
Ten Van Slykes
Three Tur-ners
Two A.J.s
More than one Kenleys
More than one Utleys
More than one Ryus, and
a Yas-i-el Pu-ig!
And that is just for 2016. It’s a crazy world we live in when $8.3M doesn’t seem like much.
Despite what it looks like from the outside, the Dodgers don’t have an unlimited supply of greenbacks that they can throw at anyone and everyone they want. The Dodgers had a plan, and they executed on that plan. Just because they can spend that kind of money, doesn’t mean that they should.
Most of us writing/reading this post have a few bucks in our pocket. We ain’t Guggenheim or Oppenheim or even Haim, but we can afford to buy our son a $200 bat or our daughter a $100 leotard . . . if we want to. But that doesn’t mean we should.
This is such a world of such consumption that there is an expectation that we will live – at a minimum– to our means, if not beyond. Aunt Martha died and left you a some money, you should buy yourself a new car. You had a good year and got a nice bonus, you should go on a cruise. You changed jobs and now make a few extra dollars, you should take on a larger mortgage.
What ever happened to living within your means? What ever happened to setting a plan, or a budget, and living within it? Since when is that a bad thing?
When the Dodgers failed to sign Greinke, the press kept partially-quoting Magic Johnson. Writers wrote, and rewrote, that Magic said that Zack was the Dodgers’ “number one priority”. However, that is only part of the story. Here is the full quote:
“I think we all want him back, but if somebody comes in and does something that is off the charts and we don’t match that, then, you know, he leaves. We want him back. He’s our priority — our number one priority in the off-season.”
I guess we can all debate the definition of “off the charts”. But, for Andrew Friedman and the Dodgers, committing 6 years and more than $200M to a 32-year old pitcher was “off the charts”. They were willing to give him $155M; they were willing to pay him $31M/year until he is 36. They were willing to commit more than $60M/year to their top two pitchers. That was within their plan.
Could have they have spent an additional $50M to secure Greinke and to pacify the fan base – even if that hurt the team long-term – sure. They have the means to do it. But just because you can . . .
I have not read a single article – I read a lot, but maybe I missed one – wherein the Dodgers were applauded for fiscal sanity. No one leapt to Friedman’s defense to say, “Attaboy; well done; way to stick to your guns and keep the organization in mind in the high-stress, high-pressure stakes of a free agent negotiation.” I didn’t hear a single drumbeat of “that’s why we pay this guy $7M/year, to make hard/smart choices.” Neither Bill Plaschke nor Mark Saxon nor any other writer went on record praising anything the Dodgers did vis-à-vis Greinke. Why not? Are we so hell-bent on winning now that we are willing to sacrifice tomorrow? That was a rhetorical question.
We all sit in front of our laptops and lament someone (not) spending someone else’s money. As Andrew Shepherd might ask: “Is the view pretty good from the cheap seats?”
Let me ask you this: When your kids get back to school after the holiday break, and he/she/they tell you all about the iWatches and ioWalks and iPads that their friends found under the Christmas tree, are you going to be saying: “Right on. That was so good of the Johnsons to spend that money. I am sure their fans (read: kids) are really happy with that expenditure.” You might say/think that; and if so, good on you.
But, you might just as easily be saying, “What the hell were the Johnsons thinking? No 10-year old needs a watch that monitors her heart, receives texts, and changes faces every five minutes; no 12-year old needs a contraption that escorts him – unaided – from the kitchen to the living room to the mailbox and back again. Sure, the Johnsons can afford to get those gifts for their kids, but just because they can . . .”
Here is my DISCLAIMER to any of my readers who are giving those gifts to their kids this year: How you spend your money is your business. My point is that you won’t find me on talk radio or in the blogosphere opining on the wisdom of your choices. With that said, read the following:
The owners’ meeting have ended, and we now know a few things about the game of baseball:
The game as a whole is doing really well. Any team with a new television contract is spending freely.
Arms are the name of the game, and without an ace, you ain’t shit (see, Red Sox, ca. 2015).
Teams never learn that long-term contracts are doomed to fail (see, Sabathia, C.C., Crawford, Carl, Zito, Barry, and many, many, more).
You will never get commended for not spending money.
As per the above, I think the deal the Red Sox gave David Price was absurd. But, they didn’t have an ace, so they didn’t have a choice.
The days (the ‘70s and ‘80s) when you could get away with 3-year deals for star players is over. The Red Sox had to do it for numerous reasons, including paying for past sins – before the 2015 season they could have closed Jon Lester for about $100M less than they paid Price. Oops! But, if they want to compete in the AL East, they need a horse. Sometimes that costs too much money and too much time.
As an aside, but definitely worth noting: If Price is awesome in the first three years of the deal, which is essential for this deal to make any sense at all, he will opt out when he is 33, looking for even more dough (see, Sabathia, C.C., Greinke, Zack). Being a left-handed stud pitcher is like being a Vegas casino . . . you always win.
But the Dodgers already have an ace. They have the best pitcher on the planet. To spend crazy money (read: the highest annual salary of any player, ever!) to get a beast #2 doesn’t make sense. The Diamondbacks were an also-ran in a division dominated by the Dodgers and the Giants; they needed to make a splash (insert Dodgers celebrating in the D-Backs’ pool joke here) and make a huge push if they were going to be relevant and/or have a chance to compete. So maybe they could justify the move. If they win the World Series in 2016 or 2017, it will have been worth it. But, if they crap and never get that ring, and are paying Greinke $35M in 2020 and 2021 (which they are on the hook for), well, let’s talk then.
Does losing Greinke increase the pressure and level of difficulty for Friedman and Farhan Zaidi? No question about it. But settle down. They didn’t low-ball the guy (ahem, Red Sox). They offered more than any other pitcher alive, save for his teammate. Arizona backed up the Brinks truck, and Greinke took the money and ran. As he should have. The Dodgers shouldn’t be blamed; Greinke (or, more accurately, his agents) should be commended. It wasn’t until Arizona depleted both its current and its future lineup to get Shelby Miller that their deal-making prowess was called into question. But, again, they simply rolled the dice. Only time will tell if that was a gamble worth taking.
With all of that said, the Dodgers better have a plan – more than Hisashi Iwakuma and Chase Utley. They better have something more up their sleeve then (not) trading for Aroldis Chapman. They better have purchased plane tickets to South Beach for Yasiel and Joc and Julio, and a suite at the Standard Downtown booked for Jose Fernandez. Because paying Johnny Cueto nine figures over six years ain’t gonna be enough to either win over the fan base or turn this team into a contender.
But I trust these guys. They made the right choice on Dave Roberts, they made the right choice on Zack Greinke, and they will make the right choices going forward. Be patient, o ye of little faith.
That said, I get it. It’s really hard to root for your team and/or raise your kid in a world where everything is available, and everyone is getting it/that/him, and you/your team/your kid is not.
We should all want our team leaders to be parents, to tell their children (read: fans) “I don’t care what Mikey got, I’m not Mikey’s parent; I’m not responsible for Mikey; and I’m sorry you feel that way. Now walk your 2015 LeBrons back to your room, put on your Under Armour sweatshirt, and play your X-Box until we are ready to go out for sushi.”
Unfortunately, Andrew Friedman cannot tell the Dodger fans that he is sorry they feel that way, that they should just quiet down, go home, and get ready for Kershaw and Opening Day. It would awesome if he could. It would be amazing if he could call a press conference, sit at the dais, and tell the Dodger fans: “Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.”
But we can do that. So put that phrase in your back pocket; my guess is it will come in handy in the next couple of weeks.
What I am about to write is neither an excuse nor a justification. I am not even sure it rises to the level of a cop-out. Rather, it is an admission of ignorance, indifference, and potentially insensitivity.
Last Friday afternoon I posted a blog entitled Free Agents of (Loose) Change. When I posted this, Paris was literally in flames.
I, in no way, meant to post something as meaningless (in the grand scheme) as the goings-on of the baseball off-season when world events were unfolding in real time. And I have no excuse for doing so.
A little backstory:
I started thinking about writing that blog post on the eve of Game 6 of the ALCS (three weeks before I posted it). It took me about five days from the time I sat down to start researching/writing to the moment I hit the “publish” button. Unfortunately, in the hours leading up to that fateful click, the world changed (again). I just wasn’t attuned to it. And again, I have no excuse.
Throughout the day on Friday, one of my colleagues was constantly providing updates on the carnage in and around Paris. And for reasons that I still cannot comprehend, the import of the moment never resonated with me. Now, this is as much a statement of my callousness as it is about the society in which we now live; and how those two concepts overlap.
We are faced with so many mass tragedies, on a daily and weekly basis, they have – unfortunately and unfathomly – just become noise. Imagine that, hundreds people die, and we (read: I) cannot be bothered to walk into the other room to see the latest on CNN. What have we become? Where do we go from here?
My father-in-law is from Israel, and he always talks about growing up there and his repeated trips back. My father, too, has made many trips to Israel. And, as much as I want to visit the “homeland”, I admit that I am just plain frightened. I hear about buses exploding on major thoroughfares and bombs going off in farmers’ markets, and I think to myself, “how/why can you expose yourself to that random danger?” And when I raise this issue with Israelis or people who go there often, their response is always the same: you don’t think about it. Whether or not they have become numb to their surroundings, or they have simply grown accustomed to what happens all too often, they just don’t live in fear.
I imagine this anaesthetization does not happen overnight. Rather, it is a slow acclimation process. Much like the lobster who first enjoys a warm bath, only to notice it getting a bit warmer, then feeling intense heat, and soon it’s too late.
Where on the continuum are we today? I wanted to provide a listing of every terrorist (or terrorist-type) events this year, but there are WAY too many to count (someone counted them for 2014: 13,463, or roughly one every 40 minutes). So, while everyone changes their Facebook profile picture and ends their Tweets with #StandWithParis, let’s just take a look at the first three weeks of this month and incidents in which three or more people were killed:
November 1st: 12 dead in Mogadishu, Somalia. A car bomb went off outside a hotel, which allowed the terrorists to enter the hotel firing their weapons and throwing grenades.
November 4th: 3 dead when a suicide bomber detonated a car bomb outside a police officers’ club in Arish, Egypt.
November 5th: A suicide bombing in Arsal, Lebanon killed 5.
November 7th: Multiple bombs were set off in Baghdad, killing 12.
November 9th: Boko Haram killed 3 with a suicide bomb in Chad.
November 9th: A 14-year old girl detonated herself, killing 4 bystanders in Fotokol, Cameroon.
November 12th: A suicide bomber detonated a bike loaded with explosives and when onlookers gathered, another suicide bomber detonated himself, killing 43 and wounding 240 more in Beirut.
November 13th: Baghdad was hit again, this time a suicide bomber killed 19 and left 33 wounded.
November 13th: As we all know, 129 people died, and another 352 were injured in multiple attacks in Paris.
November 20th: This morning 21 people (and counting) were killed when terrorists attacked a hotel hosting various diplomats in Mali.
How many of the above had you heard about? If any were on your radar, did you stop or even slow down upon hearing the news? Does there need to be a certain body count to get our attention? I think we took a moment to pause when 9 people died in a church in Charleston, SC, right? We definitely mourned when 20 children (and 6 adults) were killed at Sandy Hook in 2014. Did Mali, a week after Paris, even get a cursory look at the CNN Alert on your iPhone?
Does the atrocity have to (a) be so huge (100+ dead?) that we can’t help but notice or (b) happen at a sacrosanct location (a church, a school, but most definitely not in a mosque) that we think “but for the grace of G-d”? or (c) happen so close to home that you begin to fear for your own safety? If it isn’t any of the above, we are like the lobster; it is getting a bit warm in here, but nothing we can’t handle.
I don’t know the answer, but I am starting to feel the heat and wondering if there is any way out of the pot. Maybe that is why sports ratings are so high. Maybe that is why Star Wars is already sold out for the first two weeks of showings (a month in advance). Maybe that is why nearly 35% of U.S. adults (more than 78M people) are obese. The world around us is going to hell in hand basket, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.
According to Linda Tropp, a professor of Social Psychology at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, “when we experience feelings of insecurity, we try hard to re-establish a sense of security . . . we crave a sense of normalcy . . . we want to get back to our routine and remember other things beyond this tragic event . . .”
Maybe that is the answer – we put our head in the sand as a defensive mechanism, not because we are unfeeling or callous or indifferent, but because we simply cannot deal with the fear.
And things only stand to get worse. In this week’s Time, former CIA Director Michael Morell states: “ISIS poses a major threat to the U.S. and to U.S. interests abroad and that threat is growing every day . . . we have not faced an adversary like it before.” Quick, get me a box of donuts, a box of popcorn, and a box score; I don’t like this news.
So what do we do? Who do we look to? There is a very good chance that a carnival barker (Martin O’Malley’s words, not mine) will become the Republican nominee to become the leader of the free world (and, if he wins, will initiate a national database to register all Muslims living in the U.S.), and the most qualified candidate in more than a quarter century is being pushed to the limits by an avowed Socialist, who, when asked about ISIS, said it was not as large a threat as global warming (it is now that I am seriously thinking about building a bunker).
We live in a world where lucks plays a larger role in our personal and collective safety than all of our intelligence services combined. Where a renegade and vigilante group calling itself Anonymous poses the single greatest threat to the single greatest threat to a peaceful world. (In case you missed it, Anonymous declared cyberwar on ISIS, promising to inflict the utmost damage to an organization that utilizes social media to recruit and spread their end of days gospel. As of earlier this week, they claimed to have shut down 5,500 ISIS-related Twitter accounts.) Why isn’t Anonymous on the CIA payroll?
The result of all of this is that knuckleheads like me look the other way for fear that what I will see if I turn around will be too painful, ugly, disheartening, plain ol’ scary, to bear. And then I write silly essays about how many millions of dollars grown men will get paid to play a kid’s game. And I did that last Friday totally unaware that France was suffering its own Pearl Harbor. And for that, I am sorry.
Some might say: “If you don’t write, the terrorists win.” True enough, but maybe just a bit of discretion, a day or two to let emotions simmer and allow people to get their bearings, isn’t too much to ask before minimizing the events of the day with triviality and frivolity.
Just like everyone on social media, I stand with Paris. But, more importantly, I stand with the rest of my fellow humans who – based solely on the sheer volume of horrible events – no longer have the ability to truly appreciate and mourn these moments. We may never have another 9/11; but if we do, you can be sure it certainly won’t feel the same.
In the coming days and weeks, when the smoke has literally settled, I will again write (and mean) . . .
The corollary question was: Who was more nervous, Price’s agent or Cueto’s agent?
We are now officially in Hot Stove Season. The time of year that only the die-hards find interesting. The rest of America has turned its focus full-time to the NFL, the lame (and way too early) BCS Standings, the Fall portion of the NBA season – which outcome won’t be decided until Summer (and people think the baseball season is too long!), the beginning of college basketball, Thanksgiving, and the end of year holidays. In short, the vast majority of people couldn’t give a rat’s ass about baseball in November. Good thing we aren’t the vast majority of people!
The Price/Cueto question got me thinking about the players who helped or hurt their respective (financial) causes in the last weeks/months of the season (including the post-season). It is pretty interesting to do the “what if/what now?”.
Here are eight examples of players whose agents love or hate them just a little bit more today than they did a few months ago:
Let’s start with David Price. Ironically enough, his 0-7 record and 5.27 ERA as a post-season starter probably will not dissuade multiple teams from throwing nine figures at him. Shockingly, Price’s post-season record and ERA get way lesspublicity, attention, and criticism than that of Clayton Kershaw, who has been demonstrably better in the playoffs, year in, year out. But I digress.
Price’s showing in the aforementioned Game 6 – wherein he retired 18 straight batters before a duck fart that should have been caught opened the floodgates to what would eventually become a 4-3 series-ending loss – probably saved his bacon a little bit.
Price is an elite lefty, and he will get paid regardless. Teams will be lining up to pay Price to carry them to the playoffs where that 0-7 record will be put to the test . . . again. Look for Price in LA with at least $150M guaranteed (or that just may be wishful thinking!).
And now Johnny Cueto. Talk about your enigma. When the Reds openly discussed trading Cueto mid-season, rumors persisted that there was a problem with his elbow. And when the Royals sent a package of 3 elite prospects to Cincinnati to rent Cueto for two months, no one knew for sure what the Royals were getting. He made 13 regular season starts in KC, going 4-7 with a 4.77 ERA, including a 5-game stretch of 6, 6, 4, 5, and 7 earned runs. Ouch!
Cueto continued his mediocrity in Game 2 of the NLDS, giving up 4 earned runs in 6 innings, and got a no decision.
But then, five days later, he threw 8 innings of 2H/2ER ball to earn a very impressive win. Maybe Cueto was, in fact, a big-game pitcher entitled to a nine-figure deal.
But then, five days later, he started Game 3 of the ALCS, threw 2 innings, walked 4, gave up 8 earned runs, and was gone before half the fans even downed their first Labatts. At that moment, the Kansas City faithful were wishing they could have Brandon Finnegan back; Cueto simply wasn’t worth it.
Things were so bad that there was a legitimate question as to whether or not Cueto – the guy the Royals traded a big part of their future for – would be on the mound for Game 7 of the ALCS. Was Chris Young, the 36-year old journeyman a better option? Thanks to Jose Bautista (see, From G.O.A.T. to Goat) Kansas City fans never had to find out.
But then, a week later, Cueto started Game 2 of the World Series. He pitched a complete game 2-hitter, and gave the Royals a commanding 2-0 series lead. His services were not needed again for the Royals to dispatch the Mets.
So, what is Cueto worth? Will someone pony up Jon Lester money ($155M) for a 30-year old pitcher with a questionable record? Or, will he better suited for a 4/$64M deal? If his agent is crafty, maybe he gets Cueto a 4/$76-$80M (maybe 5/$100M) deal from a team in desperate need of a front-line starter. Had Cueto come to KC and put the team on his back (see, Bumgarner, Madison; Schilling, Curt) from August through October, he might be looking at a deal well in excess of nine figures. It is quite possible that Cueto’s performance over the past few months cost him upwards of $50M.
Yoenis Cespedes. Make no mistake, this guy is going to get a huge contract. But how huge? If the season had ended on September 23rd, Cespedes would have been looking at $150M, easy. But then in the last week of the season and throughout the playoffs, we all watched, in real time, his value drop. His power fell off, he was a liability in center field (that showing, plus his winning a Gold Glove in left, cemented his position for any acquiring team), and then there was the minor controversy of playing golf during the World Series with a bum shoulder. “Cespedes for the Rest of Us” may not be for everyone. He may still get nine figures, but I am sure his agents were none-too-pleased with his performance on the biggest stage(s).
Zack Greinke. Has there ever been a pitcher who performed better in a walk year? I am sure there has, but no pitcher ever had a better ERA in his walk year – considering Greinke had the 6th best single-season ERA of any pitcher since 1920. Greinke opted-out of the last $71M on his current deal with the Dodgers, just to opt-in to at least $150M with someone (else?). Greinke was the anchor of the Dodgers’ staff – even if he was never considered the ace – and will be paid handsomely in the months to come. There is something about a 19-3 record, a 1.66 ERA, and a 5-1 K/BB ratio encourages teams to back up the Brinks truck.
Alex Gordon. Heavy is the head that wears the Royals’ crown. The world is Alex’s oyster, and he just has to decide how many pearls he wants. There is a fair shot that he gets 5/$100M on the open market; but that is too rich for Kansas City’s blood (the largest contract they have ever given was 5/$55M for Gil Meche, who retired one year early, ultimately making this only a $43M commitment). Assume KC goes “all-in” for Gordon and offers 4/$80M – which would be stretch for sure – does he give them a hometown discount and leave $20M (or more) on the table? There is a precedent for this – one of my favorite baseball/contract stories ever:
In 2011, Jered Weaver gave the Angels a hometown discount – leaving about $50M on the table – signing for 5/$85M. Here is what he had to say about it: “How much more could you possibly need? I never played this game for money purposes, I played it for love and for championships. I’m a Southern California guy and I’m happy to stay here and have my friends and family close. Loyalty is very important to me. The Angels drafted me and I wanted to stay here and win a championship or two or three.”
But there is also a precedent for the exact opposite – one of my least favorite baseball/contract stories ever:
A year after helping to bring the first World Series title to Boston in 86 years, Lead Idiot Johnny Damon left the comfort of the Back Bay for the bright lights of the Bronx for an additional $12M. Not only did he leave Boston, he went to the hated arch rivals. Sure, it’s easy for me to say he should have walked away from $12M, but by that point in his career, Damon had already earned more than $45M; he was about to earn $40M more with the Red Sox. Had he stayed with the BoSox, between a lower tax rate and never having to pick up a check again in the Commonwealth, he probably would have made up the difference, and then some. But no, I am not bitter.
So which path will Gordon take? Will he stay home (he is from Nebraska) and become the modern-day George Brett? Or will he become the latest turncoat who chased a buck at the expense of his fans and his reputation. Only time will tell . . .
John Lackey. Say what you will about this guy – he glares at teammates when they make an error, he is petulant when he doesn’t get the borderline call, he sometimes pitches like an ace and sometimes pitches like a joker. But, this past season he was stand-up (and by “stand-up” I mean he fulfilled the terms of his contract, which is an anomaly among professional athletes).
A little background: In 2010 Lackey signed a 5-year/$82.5M contract with Boston. He had a history of a balky elbow, so the Red Sox smartly added a clause that stated if Lackey “missed significant time because of the pre-existing elbow injury”, an additional year would be added to the deal at the MLB minimum. Wouldn’t you know it, Lackey missed the 2012 season after undergoing Tommy John surgery. So Lackey had to pitch the 2015 season for the paltry sum of $507K (which, I admit, is a lot of money in real-life terms, but is $14.75M less than he earned in his previous three seasons, and is more than $18M less than he earned in the first year of the deal). Lackey never said “boo”; he didn’t hold out; he didn’t complain. He just went about his business as the de facto ace of the Cardinals (he was traded to St. Louis in 2014, for those of you paying attention; and became the Cards’ #1 when Adam Wainwright blew out his Achilles), pitching 218 innings, and posting a 2.77 ERA.
Now Lackey is line to get one last contract. He just turned 37, so he probably won’t get more than 2 or 3-year deal, but he should command $12-$15M/year for keeping his mouth shut, living up to the terms of the deal he negotiated, and pitching like everyone in Boston had hoped he would.
Jeff Samardzija. How does the song go? “If we could turn back time . . . to the good old days”. It really wasn’t that long ago that the Chicago Cubs (the then hapless Chicago Cubs) made the following offer to Samardzija: 5/$85M. In fact, it was June, 2014.
Since that time, Samardzija has gone 16-20 with a 4.29 ERA, and given up 44 homeruns; oh, and he has been traded twice. The White Sox did the big guy a favor last week by making him a Qualifying Offer, guaranteeing him $15.8M next season – if he so desires. But my guess is that he tests the free agent market and gets – at best – 4/$48-$52M. Said differently, had Samardzija signed on the dotted line 17 months ago, he would be getting paid $85M to play for a perennial playoff team on the Northside; but since he didn’t, he is now going to either play on the Southside for less than $16M or will be out there hawking his wares on the open market, claiming that he was the victim of bad defense and that his fastball hasn’t lost any velocity (in fairness, it hasn’t). In the words of Rick Perry: “Oops!”
We could do this all day, but let’s end in the same place my last post ended: good ol’ Daniel Murphy. In the words of J. Geils Band: “Freeze Frame!” If only Daniel Murphy could freeze time at 1030pm on October 21st, he might be looking at 3-4/$40-$60M. But then the World Series happened. And Murphy’s flaws were exposed: he is a good – but not great – hitter, who happened to catch lightning in a bottle for a few weeks; and he is a WAY below average fielder who doesn’t really have a position.
His best bet is a team that has use for him at 1B, 2B, and 3B, allowing him to be a much richer-man’s Kiké Hernandez, a slightly richer-man’s Justin Turner, and a slightly poorer-man’s Ben Zobrist. Now he is staring down the barrel of 2/$25-$30M, or he takes the Mets’ $15.8M Qualifying Offer. Either prospect has Murphy leaving $30M-ish on the infield dirt at Citi Field. If there is such thing as “addition by subtraction”, there must also be a concept of “winning so much you lose”. If not, Daniel Murphy (and I) just coined it.
The Hot Stove is heating up.
We have just witnessed the first three players to ever accept a Qualifying Offer (Colby Rasmus (Astros), Brett Anderson (Dodgers), and Matt Wieters (Orioles). We have seen the Red Sox send four prospects to the Padres for an elite closer (Craig Kimbrel). And the Angels just gave up their best prospect to get the best defensive player on Earth. If you don’t believe me, spend 3 minutes watching this (well worth your time, especially since we won’t have any Web Gems for nearly four months):
As more deals happen, and more players make generational money, I will be here to comment and opine. But for now . . .
We live in a funny society. And by “funny”, I mean wholly cruel and punishing.
As a society, we love nothing more than a great story, a fairy tale come true. And then we wait for – nee, we wish for, and often precipitate – the great fall. It is as American as apple pie, the 4th of July, and a Kardashian in your face at the checkout stand.
Sports are no different. In fact, they may be worse. Not a month goes by when SportsCenter or SI or The Magazine isn’t proclaiming some athlete “the greatest”, “the best”, “can’t miss”, “the leader for [insert annual award]”, “on pace to shatter [insert hallowed record]”, etc. and etc. And then, when it doesn’t happen, when a player on a hot streak (regardless of length) finally comes back to Earth – and by Earth I mean the 1 in 1,000,000 of people in the world who can do what they do at the level they do it – take cover. The talking heads, the “Hot Takes”, the radio guys, the syndicated writers, the blogosphere, your Fantasy Football buddy, they will have their torch in hand and will be marching to the stake to take down last week’s hero. It don’t take long to go from G.O.A.T. to Goat.
Lo what a cruel and usual world in which we live.
As I watched this year’s baseball playoffs unfold, I saw this phenomenon writ large and small. Herewith is a brief summary:
Carlos Correa: There really aren’t enough superlatives to describe this guy’s rookie season or his future. He came up to the Astros in June and took the league by storm. He hit for average, he hit for power, and he seemed to make a “Web Gem” every night. There was a point in August-September when the rook put the team on his back and carried their faltering bullpen into the playoffs. Announcers and pundits were falling all over themselves to sing the kid’s praises, with Alex Rodriguez (cue the laugh track) proclaiming that Correa was a certain Hall of Famer. Easy, A-Rod. Let the kid get 500 ABs before he poses for his bust. But he was playing really well.
Then came the 8th inning of Game 4 of the ALDS. The Astros scored three times in the bottom of the 7th to take a 4-run lead. At this point, the Rookie Sensation already had 3 hits and 2 dingers in 3 at bats. The ‘Stros were poised to get to the ALCS a year or two ahead of schedule, and this kid was the main reason.
But in the top of the 8th, the cockroaches from Kansas City started doing what they do. Five consecutive singles made the score 6-4, and people in Houston were more nervous than an Enron accountant. But when slow-footed Kendrys Morales hit a two-hopper to short, it looked like the Astros were about to avoid catastrophe. A twin-killing would have made the score 6-5, but the Royals would have had two outs and a lone runner on third. Of course, the Royals being the Royals, they probably would have converted that into even more runs, but at the time, it looked like the Astros might head to the 9th with a lead. If only . . .
Correa misplayed Morales’ grounder, no outs were recorded, two runs scored, and the Royals now had runners on 1st and 3rd. They scored twice more in the 8th, twice more in the 9th, won Game 4, and then went on to win the series in Game 5. So much for the ALDS MVP, so much for the hero. Correa misplayed an easy grounder and the Astros season went down the drain. From G.O.A.T. to Goat in the space of one inning.
Jose Bautista: Enough has already been written (by me and others) about Bautista’s homerun in the 7th inning of Game 5 of the ALDS that we don’t need to add anything to the canon. After hitting the game-winning bomb in a deciding game to propel his team into the ALCS, Joey Bats may have become the G.O.A.T. of bat flips. (That said, he has some tough competition from Tom Lawless, circa 1987.)
After dropping Game 1 of the ALCS to Kansas City in Kansas City, the Blue Jays needed David Price – and his 0-5 playoff record – to come up big. Price answered the call. After giving up a base hit on the first pitch of the game, Price retired the next 18 batters. It looked to be an epic performance.
But then Ben Zobrist led off the bottom of the 8th with a flair to short right. Ryan Goins went out, Jose Bautista came in, and neither caught the ball. Any Little Leaguer would tell you that it was Bautista’s ball – as he was moving in. Bautista neither caught the ball nor took responsibility (check Goins’ back for tire marks).
As we all know, give the Royals an inch . . .
Sensing an opening (smelling blood?), the Royals went single, single, ground out, single, strike out, double, single. And before the dust had settled in the Midwest, the Royals were up 5-3 on their way to a 6-3 win and a commanding 2-0 series lead. Joey Bats: from G.O.A.T. to Goat in the space of a 150-foot duck fart.
Yoenis Cespedes: It wasn’t too long ago that people were actively trying to make the case that Yoenis Cespedes could be/should be the National League MVP – even though he only played 57 games in the senior circuit. The case was strong – sort of. There is no question that the acquisition of Cespedes changed the complexion of the team, vastly improved their offense, and turned them into a pennant contender. Cespedes hit 17 HRs and drove in 44 runs in two months. The team had a .660 OPS before Cespedes arrived from Motown, and then had an .819 OPS in August and September. Cespedes was THE man. Until he wasn’t.
In 14 games during the playoffs, “Yoenis for the Rest of Us” hit like the rest of us. With a .222 average, 2 HRs, 8 RBI, no HRs in his last 11 games, and 6 of his 12 total hits coming in just two games. Add to that productivity, he badly misplayed the first pitch of the World Series into an – ahem – inside the park homerun. Then misplayed another ball in left field. And then, with two on and one out in the bottom of the 9th inning of a must-win Game 4, he somehow got doubled-off to end the game. (See, That Just Can’t Happen, October 10, 2014). When he fouled a pitch off his left knee in Game 5 and hobbled off the field, I am sure more than a few Mets fans were actually relieved. From G.O.A.T. to Goat within the space of a few weeks.
Jeurys Familia: This guy was the personification of nasty. During the season he appeared in 76 games, opponents hit .207 against him while striking out 86 times, and he collected 43 saves. When he walked out of the pen, it was lights out. The talk of the town was his “bowling ball” sinker that – even if you made contact – was bound to bound to an infielder inflicting little, if any, damage. He pitched five innings in the NLDS against the Dodgers, struck out three batters and did not allow a hit or a walk. He pitched four innings in the NLCS against the Cubs, struck out three, allowed two meaningless hits and issued two walks. Maybe those two walks were a sign of impending doom.
In the World Series, Familia blew a record three saves. How did that happen? Well, he pitched five innings in four games, gave up three hits, struck out three, walked one, and gave up a total of 1 earned run (however, that 1 earned run was a massive game-tying bomb by Alex Gordon with one out in the bottom of the 9th inning of Game 1; cue Gibby!) It happened because Daniel Murphy forgot how to play second base in Game 4. It happened because Lucas Duda couldn’t throw a ball 90 feet without taking out the mascot. Give him one huge blown save. But the others, as they say in Queens, fuggedaboutit! Familia became the first pitcher to ever blow three Fault or not, blowing three saves on the biggest, that will leave a mark (on his legacy). He went from G.O.A.T. to Goat (unwittingly) in the short distance between Chicago and Kansas City.
Matt Harvey: This one is really fun. The “Dark Knight” was supposedly a savior in New York. A legend in the making. He was the guy they built their pitching staff around, and he had all the makings of becoming the G.O.A.T. Then he blew out his elbow and fought the team to get back on the mound sooner than was rational or prudent. But when he did come back, he was awesome. And then his agent leaked some thoughts about innings limits, and all hell broke loose. In a master class of poor P.R., Harvey essentially conceded that, in order to protect his precious arm, he would not/could not pitch in the playoffs. New York fans went ape shit. Harvey was – before anything horrible actually happened – already the Goat for the Mets continued misery.
But then Harvey told his agent to pipe down, told his skipper he was ready to go, and took the ball and pitched masterfully. He may have been the #3 on this awesome staff in the playoffs, but he still drew the most heat and the most attention. And with the innings limit behind him, he went out and dominated. The G.O.A.T. had returned – black cape and all.
Fast forward to Game 5 of the World Series. Harvey was out of his mind. He pitched 8 scoreless innings, giving up only 4 hits while striking out 9. And then, irony of irony, everything came down to Harvey wanting to pitch more innings. Terry Collins relented (possibly because he misused his closer in Game 3 (Collins, a Goat?) and let Harvey take the hill in the 9th. Harvey got ahead of Lorenzo Cain 1-2, and we all but recorded K #10 in our scorebook. But fate is a fickle bitch, and Cain worked a 9-pitch walk. Eric Hosmer (more on him below) promptly doubled to left-center to bring the Royals within a run. Is/was Harvey a Goat? Hard to say, but his great outing went down the drain over the course of 5 minutes. Had he got through the 9th, the G.O.A.T. chant would have been heard throughout four boroughs (I excluded The Bronx).
Eric Hosmer: It’s 3-3 with two on and two out in the top of the 8th inning of Game 1 of the World Series. So what better time for a Gold Glove first baseman to side-saddle a chopper, misplay it, and allow the lead run to score? It didn’t take long for the Blogosphere to come up with this nugget: “That’s the first go-ahead run in the 8th inning or later of a World Series game since, you guessed it, the Buckner game in 1986 World Series” or for Fox to give us this:
A new Goat was born. But a mere six innings later, Hosmer hit the sacrifice fly to score Alcides Escobar to win an epic Game 1. Not quite the G.O.A.T., but a minor redemption.
Fast forward to the 6th inning of Game 5. The Mets led 1-0, got a lead-off walk followed by a single. Two on, no out. Daniel Murphy hit a shot – but a fieldable shot – to Hosmer. When you win Gold Gloves, you are expected to make that play and turn it into a 3-6-3 rally killing DP. But Hosmer again attempted a backhand, and again came up short. And now the Mets had the bases loaded with no outs. Through guile, luck, and a well-placed foul ball off Yoenis Cespedes’ knee, the Royals were able to get out of the inning giving up only a single run. But, for a few moments there, Kansas City fans were asking themselves, “Hosmer . . . again?!” “Could he be the Goat . . . again?”
Baseball is a great game. Trailing 2-0 in the top of the 9th, Lorenzo Cain works the best walk of his life (see Jeurys Familia, above). And then Hosmer promptly doubles off his former travel ball teammate (little known fact: Hosmer and Harvey won a Connie Mack World Series after living, traveling, and playing together in the summer of 2007), bringing the Royals within a run, with no one out. Hosmer moved to third on a ground out. But when Salvador Perez could only muster a soft hopper to David Wright, it appeared that the Royals may again leave the tying run 90 feet away.
But then Hosmer made his crazy dash for the plate. A good throw gets him by 10 feet (sound familiar?), and sends the series back to Kansas City for Game 6. A bad throw ties the game. When Hosmer popped up with a filthy uniform, I think everyone from Queens to Kansas knew the eventual outcome of this game/series.
From Goat to G.O.A.T. to Goat to nearly a Goat to G.O.A.T in the space of 4 games.
KC Coaches: I love this one. My very first post (oh so many year ago) was an in-depth analysis of third base coach Mike Jirschele’s decision to hold Alex Gordon at third base with two outs, trailing by one run, in the bottom of the 9th inning of Game 7 of 2014 World Series. I said then, and I say now (and nearly everyone agrees) that it was the right call. The odds were stacked just too much against scoring that run that way in that moment. Win one for the coaches.
But the Kansas City coaching staff – and Ned Yost in particular – don’t get nearly enough credit for their preparation and execution. Yost has been a laughing stock in Kansas City for half a decade. #FireYost and #Yosted were familiar refrains in the Twitterverse for years. I guess something changed (and, by something, I mean our impression of the man and his coaching staff).
Drew Butera, who came to the Royals from the Angels in May after playing with three other teams, was quick to remark how the Royals did things differently. In his first pre-series meeting for pitchers and catchers, he was astonished to find that they had advanced metrics on everything – including each game’s umpire. This coaching staff didn’t leave anything to chance.
So, when Lorenzo Cain was hugging first in a 3-3 tie of Game 6 of the ALCS, and Eric Hosmer (there’s that guy again) hit a sharp single down the right field line, Jirschele put his advanced scouting to work. Jirschele analysis revealed that every time a ball like that was hit, Jose Bautista came up throwing to second base. Knowing he would do so again, Jirschele wheeled Cain all the way around with the Royals 4th and eventual pennant winning run.
Now, a quick aside: A lot has been made in the press about Cain scoring from first on a single. While this is technically accurate, it is a bit disingenuous. The only reason it was a “single” was that Bautista threw the ball to second to keep Hosmer from getting a double, which, as stated above, allowed Cain to score. Had Bautista thrown home, whether or not Cain was safe, Hosmer would have gone to second and been credited with a double. So, while Cain was flying, and Jirschele made a gutsy (and ultimately correct) call to send him, this isn’t the stuff of legend. Okay, now I feel better. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming.
It was also the Royals coaching staff that had prepared their players with the following information: if and when you have the chance, run on Wright and Duda. Through four games, the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. But when Wright shuffled to his left to get Perez’s bouncer, Hosmer was already armed (legged?) with the information he needed to take the risk (and it bears mentioning that the Royals coaching staff has encouraged risk-taking on the base paths all season).
Some people hate Ned Yost, and some people love him. But you cannot deny that he and his coaching staff are prepared each and every day. A year ago some were calling Jirschele a Goat, but – for a few days at least – this coaching staff is the G.O.A.T.
And lastly . . .
Daniel Murphy: Who would’ve thunk when I wrote about Daniel Murphy back in March (Opening Gay (A Conversation)) and stated that I didn’t know much about him, that he would become a folk hero in an October fortnight?
Here is all Daniel did in two series against the best pitchers in the world (including Clayton Kershaw, Zach Greinke, and Jake Arrieta): Hit .421, slugged 1.026, and hit homeruns in 6 consecutive games. For that he was rewarded with the cover of SI, a place in the record books next to Barry Bonds (good news?), and compared to Reggie Jackson, Albert Pujols, and other October greats. After homering in the 8th inning of Game 4 of the NLCS to finish off the sweep of the Cubs, New Yorkers were hopeful that they could ride four electric arms and one scorching bat all the way to the Canyon of Heroes (or wherever the Mets would have held their parade). For a few weeks, Daniel Murphy was the G.O.A.T.
But a funny thing happens when you sweep a series – you are forced to sit, and wait, and answer hundreds of questions, and get out of rhythm, and start thinking about how and why a guy who had multiple seasons of 6 total homeruns could hit 7 in 9 games. And then you fly to Kansas City. Toto, I guess we’re not in Los Angeles, Chicago, or Long Island anymore . . .
For starters, Murphy lost his mojo at the plate. He glared at umpires after looking at repeated strike threes, on his way to hitting an anemic .150 over 5 games, mustering a total of 3 singles. But that wasn’t even close to the worst of it.
Trailing 2-1 in the series, but leading 3-2 with two on and one out in the 8th inning of Game 4, Eric Hosmer (that guy again!) hit a slow roller towards second base. Murphy, channeling his inner Buckner, misplayed the grounder, allowing it to roll into right field and the tying run to score. Two singles later and the Royals had themselves a 5-3 win and a 3-1 series lead. This Halloween became a ghoulish nightmare for The City that Never Sleeps. Murphy took his lumps as a true pro, and his teammates had his back. However, there was no escaping the fact that he had become a Goat. But that’s not all.
From the Department of Obvious, Game 5 was a must-win for the Mets. As per above, Matt Harvey did all he could through 8 innings to will his team to victory. However, the Royals would not be swayed, and tied it in the 9th. On to extras we went. When KC pushed across the lead run on a Christian Colon single (first at bat in a month, natch), the Royals had the slimmest of leads.
So when Paulo Orlando hit a grounder to Murphy, you couldn’t help but think that the Mets would turn two and get back to the dugout with a chance to keep the series going. But Murphy was all thumbs. He misplayed yet another groundball, putting the Royals up 4-2. Two doubles later, the Royals had a commanding 7-2 lead with Wade Davis on his way in from the bullpen, and the plastic was being hung in the visiting clubhouse at Citi Field.
Daniel Murphy, from G.O.A.T. to Goat over the course of a 5-day layoff and a 5-game series.
People often complain that baseball is too slow. Maybe. But, as we have seen – time and time again – in the blink of an eye, fortunes can change. Guys can go from G.O.A.T. to Goat faster than you can say “Baahhh!”
Hear we sit, sadly waiting 149 days (damn Leap Year) until we hear an umpire officially say:
On back to back days, we saw two Major Leaguers make major league heads up plays. They literally ran the bases with their heads up, and took an extra base when others might/would have missed the opportunity.
In Toronto, this resulted in a confused umpire, a littered field, and a tie-breaking run scored (after an 18-minute review).
In Los Angeles, this resulted in an annoyed fan base, a tying run, and lots of blame. But before we throw the bus in reverse and back over Corey Seager again; and before we deify Jimmy Rollins and claim how he would have done better, let’s make sure we allocate the blame properly (Editor’s Note: all allocations are wholly arbitrary).
Before we get started, refresh your memory of the play:
https://youtu.be/DkczPos_Au4
Coaches: Let’s start here. The Dodgers coaching staff readily admits that they worked on the shift and defensive responsibilities in Spring Training, but not much since. Oh, and they only worked on it in connection with base hits, not bases on balls. Oops. If luck is when preparation and opportunity meet, then the Dodgers were never destined to be lucky.
Channeling Harry Truman, the buck must stop with Don Mattingly. He played the infield – and damn well, I might add – so he could have prepared his team; but he has a team to run. So what about the other coaches? The Dodgers don’t have an official “Infield Coach” like many teams do, but they do have Davey Lopes (a former second baseman) and Tim Wallach (a former third baseman) on staff. I guess if Bill Russell was on staff there would have been someone to speak with the shortstops. An inexcusable lapse. More on the coaches below. Coaches Blame Allocation: 24.6%
Zack Greinke: Corey Seager – in a momentary lapse into candor – mentioned that it may have been Greinke’s responsibility to cover third on the play. Maybe. But Greinke didn’t need to sprint across the diamond to keep Murphy at second. When he received the ball from Grandal, he looked up and around, annoyed with himself for walking Duda on a 3-1 pitch. He was actually looking right at Murphy (or at least in his direction). Had Greinke been more focused on the baserunner(s) than his missing on the last pitch, he could have strolled back to the mound by venturing towards third base. Would Murphy have risked a foot race when he had 90 feet to go and Zack had 65 feet, at most? We will never know. Greinke Blame Allocation: 20.4%
Corey Seager: Give the young kid credit, he owned this…sort of. He hemmed and hawed, but then took responsibility. And while I don’t typically subscribe the to the “rookie mistake” theory, if it were ever true . . .
Let’s look at the facts: Shifts are rarely used in the Minor Leagues; Seager has been in the Big Leagues for six weeks, and this was only his 26th game at shortstop at the Major League level; he did participate in Major League Spring Training when this was worked on (again, only in base hit situations), and since that time he has played in Tulsa, Oklahoma City, and now Los Angeles (i.e., three different levels of baseball for three different managers and three different sets of coaches, all in 6 months).
With all of that said, this was not Seager’s first rodeo; he has to be better than that (“that just can’t happen”). When Murphy got to second base, Seager was standing right there – with his back to third base. Now, one could argue he was near second because Murphy was on the move and there was a question as to whether the pitch was a ball or a strike, but it was clear that Duda had walked by the time Murphy approached second. Simply put, Seager was being lackadaisical and not anticipating what could (and did) happen.
However, because of the positioning (within the shift), even if Seager had been paying attention and actually headed directly to third base, that is not dispositive. Greinke would had to have thrown to a moving target at an extremely odd angle (picture a wide receiver on a crossing route) – not the world’s easiest play. So, again, you can blame the coaches – this time for simply having Seager play so far out of position. Seager Blame Allocation: 22.5%
Jimmy Rollins: Before we go any further, let’s take a moment to discuss Jimmy Rollins. A few things:
(1) We all want to say what a pro Jimmy is and that he would not have made that “rookie mistake” and would have been in perfect position to either stop Murphy from taking the extra base or to tag him out. Are we sure? Do we know Rollins would have either been in a better position after the pitch and/or that he could have won a footrace that the younger/quicker Seager could not?
(2) But, more importantly, if Rollins is the consummate professional that we have been hearing about, the hardened and wise old vet who cared more about winning than ego and took Corey under his wing and showed him the ropes, why didn’t he give Seager a heads up about that type of situation? Surely someone with Rollins vast experience would have anticipated the play and passed along his knowledge to the young buck. Maybe he did – and we just haven’t heard about (from anyone).
(3) Now, we could again blame the coaching staff for playing Seager over Rollins in the biggest game of the year. Rollins Blame Allocation: 6.8%
Yasmani Grandal: Here is the big one; and the one that seems to be getting off scot free. Insofar as I have not heard anyone talking about it, I assume you didn’t see it coming. Well, start up the bus.
As the catcher, Grandal is the captain of the infield (I know, the shortstop has the same title), and he controls the game. He is the only player on the field who can see everything in front of him. Grandal was fully aware that a shift was being deployed and where every player was positioned. Further, he was either the first, second, or third person on the field to know that it was ball four – and he knew before any of his teammates. When he received the pitch from Greinke, he could see the entire field, and he had many options.
Surveying the field and realizing that third base was unoccupied, he could have run directly to third.
He could have walked the ball back to Greinke – potentially even veering off towards third base to talk to Zack on their way back towards the mound.
He could have waiting for Duda to touch first base and then immediately called timeout. The prudent move would have been to walk the ball out to the mound while eyeballing both runners (again, they are both in front of him) to make certain he controlled the pace of the play.
Realizing upon the ball four call that third base was empty, he could have yelled to Seager to get his ass over there.
Or, he could lazily toss the ball back to Greinke and allow the play to unfold as it did.
Yet again, we could blame the coaching staff for starting Grandal – who couldn’t hit an obnoxious Mets fan if he was standing in the parking lot at Citi Field – in place of A.J. Ellis. But, that blame could then be passed on to Greinke, who prefers Grandal behind the dish when he is pitching, and I am not sure we are in a position to argue with what has worked for Greinke this season. But Grandal was there, and he didn’t do his job . . . at all. Grandal Blame Allocation: 25.7%
So there you have it, plenty of blame to go around.
But, let’s be clear, the Dodgers didn’t lose Game 5 because the coaches and players failed in their respective duties. They lost Game 5 because they went 2-13 with runners in scoring position; they lost Game 5 because after the first inning, they couldn’t put together quality at bats against deGrom or Syndergaard and were completely shut down. You need to score more than 2 runs to win a make or break game, and they just didn’t do it.
The shame of it is that because they didn’t, there is a pretty good chance that Don Mattingly won’t get an opportunity to watch this team flail in the playoffs for a fourth straight season. I guess we should get ready to welcome Bud Black to Chavez Ravine.
Royals-Blue Jays, 1985 redux. Who you got?
Mets-Cubs, will the curse of Bartman and the Billy Goat continue?
On the day after my 16th birthday, as my street was filling with cars and my house was filling with teenagers (my parents were quite accommodating by leaving the continent shortly after I passed my driver’s test), Kirk Gibson gave us the greatest moment in Los Angeles sports history. (Relax, Lakers fan. This is not my opinion – it is based on many surveys on the topic.) But, this happened on October 15th, so technically, not a birthday gift.
But on my 43rd birthday, the Rangers and the Blue Jays – two teams I really don’t care too much about – gave me a birthday gift of an entirely different sort. They gave me the 7th inning (why is it always the 7th inning?) of Game 5. A lot has been said and a lot has been written about that 7th inning, so I figured, why not . . .
If you have ever watched – or heaven forbid – coached a Little League game and seen the wheels come off the wagon, cued the circus music, and/or pulled your hair out in exasperation, you’re in good company. Because Rangers fans and Jeff Banister (the Rangers’ manager) witnessed it all over a 53-minute period yesterday afternoon north of the border.
And the Rangers and Blue Jays gave us all a huge gift – one that I am sure Elvis Andrus wishes he could take back – by providing context to the difficulty of baseball. Yesterday’s 7th inning gave us all a new appreciation for how hard the game of baseball is, why we cannot be shocked when our kids make errors, and new meaning to the phrase “that just can’t happen”.
A few angles, some of which have been covered, and some of which have not.
FAULTY THROW/HEAD’S UP PLAY
Russell Martin goes through the motion of doing something he has done probably hundreds of thousands of times – throwing the ball back to the pitcher. No one would have expected the ball to careen off Sin-Soo Choo’s hand. And yet, it did. This happens in Little League, and we yell at our kid to be more careful.
But what got lost on that play, and I have only heard Jeff Banister reference it, is that Rougned Odor had his head up, saw the play unfold, and took off for the plate. How often do we see Little Leaguers, and Big Leaguers alike, go back to the bag with their heads down, not paying attention to something as innocuous as a throw back to the pitcher?
If Odor had not sprinted down the line and crossed the plate before Josh Donaldson even picked up the ball, the play could have gone another way (e.g., the umpires could have ruled that their call of timeout did not affect the play because the runner didn’t attempt to score). Odor was more than halfway down the line before home plate umpire Dale Scott called the play dead; and Odor finished his sprint and crossed the plate. So, when Scott conferred with his colleagues and figured out that he spoke too soon, the guys in the replay booth confirmed that regardless of the time out call, Donaldson never had a chance to stop Odor, and thus the run was allowed. We always teach that the one thing on a baseball field you can control is hustle. For a few moments yesterday afternoon, it looked like hustle would be the difference between winning and moving on, and losing and going home.
THREE (ARGUABLY FOUR) TIME’S A CHARM
#1: Watch enough baseball games and see enough six hoppers up the middle, and you begin to wonder why batters even bother running up the line. Shortstops from the age of 10 or 11 make that play sliding to their left and throwing in line with their body so often, and so easily, that it has become the definition of “routine”. Add to the equation the true hops one gets on a synthetic surface, and I would not be surprised if the official scorekeeper had already jotted down “6-3” before the ball even got to Andrus. But, the reason they put erasers on the back of pencils is that sometimes people make mistakes. It is just that when Andrus booted an easy groundball to start the bottom of the 7th, if felt like more than an innocent error. There was a certain foreboding. If the game had a soundtrack, that is when the scary music would have started.
#2: But when Kevin Pillar hit an innocent groundball to Mitch Moreland, it looked – for a moment – like Andrus’ error would be wiped out with a 3-6-3 twin killing. And remember (this is for Red Sox fans from the mid-’80s) that Moreland has played first base all season because he is a considerably better defender than Prince Fielder. But Moreland never got a good grip on the ball, threw a tricky, across-the-body and across-the-runner short-hop to Andrus, and the ball bounced away. Could Andrus have made the play? Sure, but it would have been a heck of a play; it might even had made SportCenter’s Top 10. Bottom line, he didn’t. Two batters, two errors, tying run in scoring position, lead run on base, no one out.
#3: Ryan Goins then laid down a horrible bunt. That will be lost in all this – in fact, I have not really heard anyone speaking about how bad that bunt was. You lay down a 40 foot one-hopper to arguably the best defensive third baseman in the history of the game (easy, Orioles fans; I said “arguably”). Beltre makes an perfect toss to Andrus, who drops the ball. What have we been telling our kids since Wee Ball? If the ball is above your waist, glove down; below your waist, glove up. Andrus apparently missed that lesson. Three batters, three errors, tying and lead runs in scoring position, still no one out. (By the way, prior to yesterday, no team had ever made three errors in one inning in a deciding game.)
Ben Revere hits a hard shot to first. For a moment, this looked truly to be the pitcher’s best friend: 3-2-3 and there would have been 2 out with 2 runners on. But Dalton Pompey (on as a pinch runner) slides hard into the plate and takes out Chris Gimenez. Legal play? Dirty play? Appropriate play? Because so much happened in that inning, there has not been much talk of that. The umpires did review it and decided it was legal (file that, Chase). The game resumes; bases still loaded, but now – amazingly – a groundball could get the Rangers out of this.
#4: Josh Donaldson hits a little looper behind second. Infield fly? The umpires ruled – instantly – it was not. Catchable ball? Odor determined – after a few backpedals – it was not. Should Odor have done as he was taught – by coaches, not Robinson Cano – turned his shoulders and run back for the ball? I think the outcome of the play inures to yes.
If Odor makes the routine catch, the bases remain loaded with two outs, and the Rangers still leading 3-2. Would that have made any difference in Bautista’s at bat? We will never know.
Better question: if the ball had been subject to the infield fly rule, would Pillar have taken off from third base after the ball landed in short right? I have not heard that question asked of Blue Jays third base coach Luis Rivera, but my guess is he would not have run.
JOEY BATS (FLIP)
Depending on where you live on the baseball continuum, Jose Bautista’s bat flip was the greatest or worst thing you have ever seen. Did Bautista disrespect Sam Dyson and the game of baseball? Or did he do what we have been begging of baseball for a generation – provide some life, emotion, and excitement? The answer to this question is really easy:
From April to August, Bautista is a showboat who should be drilled in his next at bat. There is no place for that in that type of game.
In September and especially in October; and especially in the 7th inning of a deciding game; and especially in the 7th inning of a deciding game with the score tied; and especially in the 7th inning of a deciding game with the score tied that has already been fraught with emotions (both on and off the field); and especially in the 7th inning of a deciding game with the score tied, with emotions running high, when a batter hits a ball roughly 700 feet, then he damn well has the right to (a) admire the majesty of his shot and (b) toss his bat away with as much grandeur as he can muster in the moment. Case closed.
And Ranger fan, shut the hell up. This isn’t on Bautista, Encarnacion (who was actually trying to be helpful), or Tulowitzki who did nothing (for the entire series, it would seem).
Thank you, Rangers and Jays. You gave a baseball fan the best kind of birthday gift: an amazing inning that spawned another chance to writeabout the game I (we all) love.
Your turn, Dodgers and Mets. Orel Hershisher (who will throw out the first pitch tonight), the Cy Young winning right-hander won the last deciding game played at Dodger Stadium, beating the Mets in Game 7 of the 1988 NLCS (is this starting to sound familiar?).
The next game was played at Dodgers Stadium three days later, 27 years ago today. We all know how that turned out.
Two worlds collide, rival nations; it’s a primitive clash, venting years of frustrations. Does the crowd understand? Is it East versus West, or man against man? (Extra points if you can reference the previous stanza (hint: it is a verse)).
It’s Biggie vs. Tupac.
It’s the Big Apple vs. Hollywood Glitz and Glamour.
It’s 1988 all over again, and the stakes are – in the words of the Mike and the Mad Dog – “uuuuuge!!!”
When the best pitcher on the planet could not – yet again – get a playoff W, Game 2 took on all that much more importance. And when the Dodgers found themselves trailing 2-1 in the 7th inning (why is it always the 7th inning?) on Saturday night, with one out and runners on the corners, and Howie Kendrick at the plate, who knew – who could possibly have guessed – the firestorm that awaited in that otherwise innocent 100 feet between first base and just beyond second?
More than East Coast / West Coast, the battle that has ensued has spread to “old school vs. new school”.
It has extended out to guys who rub some dirt vs. the Sabermetricians who count every inning and every out in terms of dollars.
It has touched those who subscribe to the unwritten rules vs. those who abide by the official MLB rule book (see also, When is a Rule a Rule? June 10, 2015).
It has pitted in-game umpires against league officials.
It most likely has led to showdown between Matt Harvey and Chase Utley (or possibly Corey Seager and some other suspecting Dodger better). (Editor’s Note: It has been reported that the Mets have specifically instructed Matt Harvey not to retaliate. We shall see.)
And, the fact of the matter is, regardless of how much is said, how much is written, how many games Utley is forced to sit, no one and everyone is correct.
It was a dirty play.
It is how the game is played.
It was, depending on your interpretation, within the rules.
It was, depending on your interpretation, a violation of the rules.
It was, depending on your viewing angle, a “neighborhood play” not subject to replay review.
It was, depending on another angle, a force play perfectly subject to replay review.
Does that clear it up for everyone? If not, and if you have not read and/or listened to everything written and/or said about this in the past few days, here is a brief summary:
Chase Utley breaks up a potential double play by sliding hard into Mets’ shortstop Ruben Tejada. Hardnosed play? Yes. The way Utley has always played? Yes. A play that happens dozens of times every season? Yes. A potential rule violation? Yes. Could it have been ruled an inning-ending double play with no runs scored for the Dodgers? Yes.
MLB Rule 7.09(e): It is interference by a batter or a runner when . . . [if], in the judgment of the umpire, a base runner willfully and deliberately interferes with a batted ball or a fielder in the act of fielding a batted ball with the obvious intent to break up a double play, the ball is dead. The umpire shall call the runner out for interference and also call out the batter-runner because of the action of his teammate. In no event may bases be run or runs scored because of such action by a runner.
Said differently if you are a Dodger fan with two working eyes: “uh oh!” and “phew!”
If you live in Queens or otherwise really like the color orange, you might also note Rule 5.09(a)(13):
A batter is out when a preceding runner shall, in the umpire’s judgment, intentionally interfere with a fielder who is attempting to catch a thrown ball or to throw a ball in an attempt to complete any play.
The umpires on the field had the right – but not the obligation – to call Utley and Kendrick out. They chose not. We can agree or disagree with that assessment, but now let’s head around the neighborhood.
Although not technically in the rule book, for the sake of safety, umpires will typically record an out (and typically at second base – has anyone ever seen it called anywhere else?) in the course of an attempted double play without the fielder actually touching the base while in possession of the ball. For this to occur, it must look like an out, with the middle infielder catching the ball cleanly and then turning and throwing on to the next base. It goes without saying “but I’ll say it anyway” (tip of the cap to Vin Scully) that this is done to protect players from the potential harm that could come from colliding with incoming base runners.
So, you ask, wasn’t Tejada in the “neighborhood” when he didn’t touch second base? Well, according to the umpires, he was not, because he was not in the process of turning a double play. Rather, he was reaching behind the bag to receive a throw coming from an odd angle, with very little likelihood of turning the double play (which, in hindsight, is quite ironic). Thus, Utley was not out – in the first instance – on the front end of the “neighborhood play”.
As a side note, after the play Utley was laying on the ground beyond second base and Tejada was sitting on the ground with the ball in his hand. Had Tejada been so inclined, and had Tejada not had a broken leg, he could have tagged Utley out, obviating the need for the instant replay review. But, since the umpire called Utley out, Tejada had no need to do so.
As for the instant replay, as I am sure you all know, the “neighborhood play” is not reviewable. That is a judgment call by the umpire in the moment, and no drone in New York can overrule that judgment. However, that same guy sitting in a dark room in New York can opine on whether or not a player touched the bag with the ball on a force out. Once the umpires ruled no “neighborhood play”, it became a typical force play, which is subject to review. I can feel blood pressure rising at Coney Island.
But, you (and by “you” I mean Keith Olbermann and others) claim that Utley “abandoned his effort to run the bases” when he left the field and went to the dugout, so he should have been called out. Au contraire, mon frere. Once the umpire called Utley out, he has the right – and most likely the obligation – to leave the field of play. After the review revealed him not to be out, he had the right to reassert his position – but where, exactly? What is fascinating, and I have not been able to find anything written about or anything in the rule book, is that Utley was not technically “safe” after the review, he just wasn’t “out”. In the same way a batter is not to out after a dropped third strike, but he is not safe either. Or when a runner slides past home plate to avoid a tag – not safe or out, just in limbo. Utley never touched second base and left the field from the shortstop position. Could the Mets have tagged Utley on his way back on the field? Like the reasoning behind New Coke . . . no one knows!!
A couple of quick questions/asides:
If Ruben Tejada does not get injured, just fails to turn the double play, are we having this debate right now? I think not.
If Tejada does not get injured, but Utley did, what is the collective reaction? It is amazing to me that Utley doesn’t have a concussion or something worse. Check out the impact of his head on Tejada’s knee and then on the base path. Some have averred that he ran off the field without his helmet because he was so dazed and confused from the collision. Do we care? Is that a case – like I say to my kids – “that’s what you get . . .”?
This same injury happened last month in Pittsburgh to Jung Ho Kang. As far as I can tell, outside of Western Pennsylvania, the only person who made an issue out this play was Buster Olney. Where was the outrage when a small market player went down?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF7bbQGe9xc
In fairness, however, a large market player got taken out at second base, and no one said a word. Tell me if this play looks familiar:
But that was 38 years ago. Some might say that times have changed.
Anyway, back to Saturday night. The Mets claim a violation of Rule 7.09(e) and believe the discussion ends there. Utley and Kendrick are out, the 7th inning ends, the Mets get six more outs and head home up two games to none with Harvey on the hill to close it out.
The Dodgers claim that the umpires properly interpreted the rules, Utley was within the baseline and within the rules of the game. Tejada didn’t record the force out, everyone is safe, Kiké Hernandez scores, the game is tied, and the Dodgers score three more runs to even the series.
Joe Torre and MLB claim “[A]fter thoroughly reviewing the play from all conceivable angles, I have concluded that Mr. Utley’s action warrants discipline. While I sincerely believe that Mr. Utley had no intention of injuring Mr. Tejada, and was attempting to help his Club in a critical situation, I believe his slide was in violation of Official Baseball Rule 5.09(a)(13), which is designed to protect fielders from precisely this type of rolling block that occurs away from the base.”
While I don’t necessarily disagree with Torre’s appraisal, I don’t believe we can have ex post facto interpretations or punishments. If the crime warrants a punishment, it needs to be called a crime at the time. Had the umpires invoked either 7.09(e) or 5.09(a)(13) on the field Saturday night, I would not have balked. But, the fact of the matter is that they did not. They were there, they saw it in real time, and they elected not to invoke the rule(s). It is not appropriate for Torre to Monday Morning Quarterback and throw the book at Utley. I feel pretty confident Utley’s representatives and the MLBPA will make a strong case that this play happens all the time without punishment.
As of this writing, Utley has appealed his suspension, and it will not be heard before Game 3. Thus, Utley is free to play. Whether or not he does will be Don Mattingly’s call (ostensibly, as the left-hand hitting second baseman, he should be in the lineup against right-hander Matt Harvey, but Utley hasn’t exactly been hitting balls as hard as he has been hitting shortstops, so Kendrick may get the start in any event).
But regardless of what happens in the Chase Utley Incident, this rule will be changed (or, as some might say, actually enforced). In the same way that the home plate rule changed after Buster Posey’s collision was the straw that broken the catcher’s ankle, there will be a new rule for plays at second base.
The rule will most likely require that (a) runners actually slide, with at least one appendage fully extended (take a look at Utley’s leg when he made contact with Tejada); (b) runners must actually slide (i.e., their bodies must hit the ground prior to making contact with the fielder); (c) runners must slide directly to the base, not at the fielder; and (d) as my personal suggestion, a runner must be able to maintain contact with the base after he completes his slide (there is no reason it should be legal for a guy to end up near left field just because he could have touched the base at some point in his slide). Some variation on the above theme will be in place before the first pitch is thrown next April 3rd.
And, as sure as I am typing this, old school guys will bitch and moan and complain that wimps are ruining the game. And then the furor will die down, players will make plays and stay on the field, and the game will evolve in the same way it always has and always should.
For now, we have the Astros trying to out-Royal the Royals, who spent the 8th and 9th innings showing the Astros that the Royals are still the Royals. We have the Rangers learning, first-hand, how/why the Blue Jays outscored their opponents by 221 runs this season (second most: the Cardinals with 122). And we have Jake Arrieta – the most unhittable pitcher on the planet (he has allowed 4 runs in his last 97+ innings) – going against the Cubs’ arch-rival Cardinals in the Friendly Confines. I know I say this often, but really, does it get any better than this?!!?
It seems like just yesterday – but it was actually more than a year ago – that I started writing this blog.
As I am certain you all recall, it was the A’s-Royals Wild Card game that inspired me to put fingers to keyboard and share my thoughts and musings with all of you. I guess history will be the judge of whether or not that was a good idea.
In any event, I have now reached my Paper Anniversary. When I first started writing, my goal was really just to share my random thoughts, and to see if I could tie them in some coherent manner to something related to pop culture, raising kids, middle (ahem) age, and, of course, baseball. Again, history – and you all – will be the judge of whether or not I was successful in that endeavor.
So here I sit, at a crossroads. Do I delve into Year Two, or close up the laptop and call it a career? I arguably have now published more words than J.D. Salinger; so maybe now is the time to head into seclusion (don’t think I didn’t hear those sniggers). However, before I head off to Cornish, I need to figure out “what’s next?”.
Starting on Friday, we will again see the St. Louis Cardinals in the playoffs – that ain’t news. They have won the NL Central three years running, and, for good measure, they won 100 games this season. And they did that while losing huge swaths of their lineup to injury. Here is a brief sampling of starters who were out of action for considerable periods of time:
Adam Wainwright (P): Tore his Achilles in his fourth start, and then missed the next five months. He has miraculously returned as a reliever for the post-season.
Jaime Garcia (P): 3 stints on the DL.
Randal Grichuk (LF): 2 stints.
Jordan Walden (P): 60-day DL.
Jon Jay (CF): Two stints (which may be a record low for him).
Matt Holiday (LF): He only went on the DL twice, but he was hobbled at all times in between.
Matt Adams (1B): Two stints, including the dreaded 60-day.
Lance Lynn (P): He escaped with just one appearance on the 15-day DL.
Carlos Martinez (P): He’s gone for the season.
Jason Heyward (RF): He goes on the DL at least once a season, and this year was no exception.
Yadier Molina (C): He avoided the DL, but that is just because his injury happened too late in the year. They are somehow retrofitting a robo brace for the torn ligament in his thumb to allow him to catch in the playoffs. Mike Marshall he is not.
Stephen Piscotty (LF): This guy somehow avoided both death and the DL after a massive collision with Peter Bourjos during the last week of the season. In case you haven’t seen it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMmWs6qFXyY
Suffice it to say, it was a rough year for the Cards. But no matter. Mike Matheny, the no nonsense, play ‘em as they lay, even-keeled Midwesterner just said, “Next man up”. The team responded to adversity each and every time by looking forward, rather than behind. Their goals never faltered, even when their health did. That approach culminated in a division championship, a return the playoffs, and home field advantage through the NLCS (if they make it that far).
My favorite television show of all time – as anyone with whom I have ever discussed this topic knows all too well – had a lead character whose catch phrase was “what’s next?”.
As the series progressed, this “what’s next?” question was asked with considerably less derision, but it signified that, as the chief executive, he was done and ready to move ahead.
Can’t we have Jed Bartlet in the next presidential debate? Sorry, I digress.
As I mentioned in a postscript to my last posting, I lost the stepfather of a dear friend last week. Amongst this man’s many and varied qualities was his want/desire to keep looking forward. After hearing of his death – as we are want to do – I began reminiscing about my interactions with him over the years. Recall that I first met this man when I was 10 or 11 years old. He housed me, fed me, drove me, and never missed an opportunity to parent me during my preteen and teenage years. But, later in life, when I saw him less frequently, he never missed an opportunity to impart some pearl of wisdom. The following is a story I related to his wife after his funeral: I ran into Allan shortly after I graduated from law school. He gave me a handshake that he twisted to assert dominance, and then turned it into a hug, and said “congratulations”. He then said his version of “what’s next?”. I remember in vivid detail his telling me that I had accomplished a great deal, but now I have to set new goals. 1 year, 5 year, 10 year goals. He said the only way to accomplish anything in life is to look ahead and push yourself to achieve. He wanted to know “what’s next?”.
At many times in my life I have had no choice (okay, I did have a literal choice, but not one a rational person would make) but to look ahead and ask “what’s next?”. It was in the moments of doubt, of fear, of confusion, when the only way out was forward; the only salvation was what was next. Even if it was just a short-term goal – a week, or a day, hell, even a few hours (newborn hours can feel like days and weeks), I had to keep moving. In the words of W.H. Auden, I had to “stagger onward rejoicing”.
Now, I am no paragon of forward movement. I, like everyone else, take time to wallow in the past, to have little pity parties, to remember with longing an easier time. But I try not to dwell there.
Allan gave me great advice that, in my mid-twenties, I didn’t actually heed. In fact, it wasn’t until my early thirties, when Martin Sheen – making what was supposed to be a guest appearance in the pilot episode of Rob Lowe’s new NBC drama – looked at his team in the Oval Office and directed them to push ahead.
Athletes, like pretend White House staffers, need to have a short memory. They cannot dwell on prior failures, they need to look forward to the next shot, the next pass, the next at bat.
The Astros didn’t look back at three straight 100+ loss seasons between 2011-2013; they didn’t look back at their near collapse (14-16 in September) that forced them to play in the Wild Card game rather than winning the division outright; and they didn’t look back at the 27 World Series championships that their opponents has previously won. They got in, and they won on Tuesday, and then they said, “what’s next?”.
For us, what’s next is an epic battle: Cubs v. Pirates; Arrieta v. Cole; NL Central v. NL Central. By the time some/most of you read this, that game will be over. And what’s next will be the rest of the playoffs and the Fall Classic.
For me, what’s next on this page will be more musings, more rants, more posts. The laptop is open; the MLB post season is here; the stories will write themselves.
