Category: Uncategorized

THE LOST ART

Back in the day, people would go to the ballpark with a transistor radio in one hand, and a few pencils in the other.  For 50¢ or a buck, you picked up an official scorecard, you grabbed a dog and a beer, took your seat, and only got up to pee (in a trough) and for the 7^th Inning Stretch.  For the other 3 hours, you watched the game and kept score.

For the older readers out there, here are some memories:

 

           

             

             

 

Can you remember the walk from the vendor to your seat, flipping through that program?  You got the other team’s full roster; height and weight; birthdate and home town.  Sometimes they had pictures, but more often it was just a list of players.  I remember many times when it was just a single page insert, but no matter, you had all the information at your fingertips.  And when the Cubs or Red Sox or Yankees were in town, you always knew who was who.

Man, in simply writing that previous paragraph I can smell the beer (which I wasn’t yet drinking) and taste the mustard.

You took your seat, got yourself situated, and prepared to take notes (not school notes, mind you, but things that really mattered – the history that was being made on the baseball field).  The starting line-ups were announced and then displayed on the scoreboard.  You quickly wrote the names down – in pencil if you were careful, and in pen if (a) you were confident or (b) that is all your mom had in her purse.  You took off your cap for the National Anthem, the first pitch was thrown, and now you were officially a part of the game.

After a tough groundball into the 5-6 hole, you would check the corner of the scoreboard to see if it was a “H” or an “E”.  When a ball scooted between the catcher’s legs, your eyes went to the same spot looking for either a “WP” or a “PB”.  Waiting for that determination was painstaking as it affected what you jotted down.  Was it a straight horizontal line (see below) or an E6?  You had to know.  Today, you are lucky if that information is displayed during the same inning.

Ah, the lost art.

Chances are, but for Little League, the vast majority of people wouldn’t even know what “keeping score” means, let alone have the ability to do it.  And it is so much easier today, with the scorebooks laying everything out for you.

Back in the day, you had to be prepared to make horizontal lines, and write very small to account for what happened to each player on each play.

I guess there is no need to do any of this any more.  You can Gamecast on your phone; get full, live, and complete box scores with up-to-date statistics from a dozen websites as the game is going on.  And, even if you are inclined to do it, your pen-to-program sureness can really be messed up when a player calls up to the Official Scorer mid-game to get a call changed.  I sure hope you have erasable ink.

When I was a kid, I was a score-keeping madman.

One summer I played an entire Strat-O-Matic season with cards, dice, and a scorebook I bought in the sports aisle at Thrifty (where I also got my inaugural first baseman’s glove – a Rawlings/Keith Hernandez Fastback with a basket web).  What I would give to find that book (or that glove).  Not for nothing, but that 13-year old summer checked off both boxes of Keith Olbermann’s trope: “If you are scoring at home, or if you are alone . . .”

I am not embarrassed to tell you that I used to sit in my family room with my trusty book and keep score of the College World Series back before the general population even knew that such a thing existed.  Somewhere I must have Pete Incaviglia’s stats from Rosenblatt Stadium vs. Cal State Fullerton and Arizona St.

(Side note: I am not sure anyone ever hit a ball harder or farther than Inky did with a metal bat.  48 dingers in a 75-game college season?!?  To this day I am shocked that one of his lasers back through the box didn’t kill some sad sack pitcher.)

My days of keeping score went the way of the dodo bird when I started bringing young kids to the ballpark.  Bathroom breaks – repeated bathroom breaks – and ice cream runs are not conducive to a full and complete scorecard.  And the idea of trying to catch up – as anyone sitting in the stands at a Little League game can attest – is a fool’s errand.

To be totally honest, my days of keeping score at the ballpark ended when the game became more social and less about the action on the field.  And guess what, there is nothing wrong with that.  I put this in the same category as even though I no longer have to iron my shirts, it is important that I possess the ability to do so.

So the next time the home team coach looks up into the stands and asks, “Who can keep score?,” raise your hand high, grab a pencil, and proudly say, “I do, I can, I will!”  And just think, you can make sure that every time your kid hits a dribbler down the third base line, it will “look like a line drive in the scorebook”.

Who better to end this with:

PLAY BALL!!

USE YOUR HEAD…BY USING YOUR FEET

At the risk of sounding like Nancy Kerrigan:

“Why . . . why . . . why!?!?”

Why do players insist on sliding head first – into any base.  I know there are a ton of people who disagree with me on this, and to them I will simply say, “You’re wrong!”  (See below)

I was coaching third in a game a few weeks ago and an 11-year old kid came ‘round second and slid headfirst right into third base; and then walked feet-first right into the dugout, as Little League rules are smart and strictly prohibit sliding on your belly (excluding, of course, going back to the bag).

When I asked him “who taught you that?” he responded with: “I taught myself.”  I highly doubt that, but no matter.  It is crazy to me that players who make their livings (millions and millions of dollars of livings) with their hands, wrists, and shoulders, still take this unnecessary risk, day in-day out.

There are some of you reading this shaking your head – who say that it is I who is wrong, that it is faster and safer to slide headfirst.  To you naysayers, I present to you:

The National Institute of Health:

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12855927

The American Journal of Sports Medicine:

http://ajs.sagepub.com/content/30/6/834.abstract

My biggest issue is with guys who dive into first base.  David A. Peters, Ph.D. of the McDonnell Douglas Professor of Engineering at Washington University in St. Louis, settles this one for us.  He says the only advantage of any slide into first base is to avoid the first baseman’s tag when he has to come off the bag to spear an errant throw.  Sliding does not get a player to first base more quickly.  Professor Peters stated that: “Mathematically, you might think there’s an advantage, but leaving your feet is actually a detriment because you’re no longer pulsing (pumping your legs) and you start to decelerate.  When you’re running, your get your feet out in front of the center of gravity, so you’re getting maybe three or four steps of an advantage.”

Don’t believe Dr. Peters, how about the guys at Sports Science:

I guess MLBers don’t subscribe to Dr. Peters’ journal or watch Sports Science, because many of the players listed below must still think diving is faster than remaining upright.  And so they continue to slide headfirst; and they continue to get hurt.

It happened again . . . on Opening Day.  John Jaso – the Rays catcher who came over in a trade from Oakland and who was supposed to be a mainstay of the rebuilt ball club – decided to dive headfirst into second base and, shock of shock, sprained his wrist.  Goodbye first two weeks (at a minimum), hello disabled list.

Here is a totally not comprehensive list of guys with questionable base-running decision-making over the past few seasons:

Josh Hamilton, while playing for the Rangers, broke his humerus diving headfirst into home plate on a foul pop.  This play was bad on so many levels that I have chosen not to discuss any of them – it is simply too annoying.

But Josh was not through.  While playing for the Angels, and pocketing 5/$125M, he dove headfirst into first base.  Result: Torn ligaments in his thumb, out 47 games.  (In other words, he was paid $7.25M to sit on the bench due to his bone-headed play.)

Early in 2014, the Wild Horse (‘s Ass), Yasiel Puig, strained a ligament in his thumb diving into first base.

On Opening Day, 2013, Dustin Pedroia tried to beat a throw at first by diving into the bag.  He tore the ulnar collateral ligament in his thumb.  He refused to go on the DL, and played the entire season with the injury, but his numbers were down; he required off-season surgery; and didn’t recover as quickly as he had hoped.  As a result, he had another off year in 2014.  If you are scoring at home, that is two years of lost production to try to save (and to actually lose) 10 milliseconds on Opening Day.  Was the risk worth the (lack of) reward?

This one is priceless.  After being hit by a pitch in 2011, Shin Soo Choo had surgery on his thumb.  So, how did he go about protecting that injury?  In 2013 he slid headfirst into first.  This, of course, resulted in his spraining the same thumb.  He had this to say:

“Stupid play.  I tell myself, and I tell a lot of players, the worst play is the headfirst slide into first base and home plate.  But I did it.  I don’t know why I did it.”  Wise words from a wise man.

Michael Bourne didn’t get injured on his actual dive into first base, rather he was spiked when Matt Thornton (covering on the play) came down on his hand.  He missed 20 games.

Absent trying to avoid a tag coming down the line, what about this play ever makes sense?  This really may be the worst play in all of sports.

But first base isn’t the only culprit.

Rafael Furcal broke his thumb sliding headfirst into third base.  The injury was so bad that he considered retiring, and he hasn’t played regularly since 2012.

Yunel Escobar made an appointment with a neurologist after he collided with Andy LaRoche’s knee at third base.  Diagnosis: Concussion.

How about this one.  A player who, by all accounts, has abundant potential, but a chronically bum shoulder.  So what does he do: slide headfirst, of course.  Only, as luck would have it, Ryan Zimmerman didn’t hurt his shoulder.  No, he tore an abdominal muscle that required surgery and caused him to miss six weeks.

Ben Zobrist missed a few weeks with a dislocated thumb diving into second.

Not to be outdone, Alex Gordon missed four weeks with a broken thumb after diving into second base.

Jason Heyward sprained his thumb diving into third.  He avoided the DL, but hit .172 in his next 24 games.

Billy Hamilton jammed his middle finger diving into second base.  If I have to give anyone a pass, it may be Billy Hamilton.  This guy is so fast and runs so low to the ground – a la Ricky Henderson (kids, ask your parents) – that his momentum truly carries him forward (see this play from last week).

Carl Crawford injured not one, but two fingers with a dive into second base (a double-whammy of stupidity).

Ryan Ludwick tore his labrum, and missed 116 games, after diving into third.

Bryce Harper required surgery on his thumb and missed two months, also at third base.

Nolan Arenado missed six weeks after diving into second.  Thus denying us 37 games where he could potentially make plays like this:

Ian Kinsler suffered a stress reaction (one step below broken ribs, but worse than an oblique injury) diving into third.  He missed 25 games.

Early last season, Mike Napoli dove into third base.  He dislocated his ring finger.  He went on the 15-day DL, and had to tape his hand before every at bat for the remainder of the season.  I really only included this injury so I could show this picture:

I could keep going, but I think you get the idea.

Davey Lopes was able to steal 557 bases in his career, making him one of the greatest if all time.  And yet, to hear him tell it, “I never slid headfirst, ever.”

If none of the above is enough to convince you – to convince you to convince your kid – that sliding headfirst is a bad idea, how about this coup de grace:

Medical studies have confirmed that “sliding headfirst poses a far greater risk of serious injury because of the exposure of the head and neck.  Anything from a concussion to a cervical strain or even spinal-cord injury might result, particularly when there is contact with a player blocking the path.  In addition, the propensity for upper-extremity injury is heightened, not only because of the mechanics involved and collisions that are likely, but also because these joints are more vulnerable than the sturdier joints of the lower body — which have a greater preponderance of injury with feet-first slides.  Even the abdominal muscles are at greater risk for strains with headfirst slides due to the outstretched position of the body.”

Or, to keep it simple, ask yourself how many injuries you have seen, read, or heard about, when a player slides feet-first.

And with that, the offense rests.

PLAY BALL!!

THEY’RE BACK

 

Forget all this nonsense about the Monday after the Super Bowl; and forget ESPN’s world dominance and their creation of “Opening Night” the Sunday before.  Opening Day – Monday – should be a National Holiday.  A day when kids are off school (oh, right, they are already), and parents have freedom from meetings, and phone calls, and what’s that thing called, “work”, and everyone has the G-d given right to head over to the ballpark and enjoy this (hint: it’s the D-Backs’ new dessert, the Churro Dog):

I guess the one benefit of “Opening Night” is that the Cubs get to actually “start” the season 0-1.  The more things change . . .

. . . The less they stay the same.  There were exactly 158 days between Alex Gordon being left 90 feet from the promised land of a tie game in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 7 of the World Series, and Jon Lester’s first pitch (a strike) at the corner of Sheffield and Waveland (where, apparently, there are no bleachers and not nearly enough working bathrooms).  The times, the ballparks, the rules, the teams, they are a changin’!

If you are not like me (and hopefully you are not nearly as obsessed), you kept only half an eye on the Hot Stove, you read a few columns (hopefully even this Blog), and you heard a few rumors.  Well now that the 2015 baseball season is upon us, allow me to highlight some of the changes you may have missed, overlooked, or simply forgotten about.  These are provided with commentary, but in no particular order:

Hot Topic: Pace of Play.  Batters must keep one foot in the batter’s box at all times.  There are enough exceptions to this rule that it will probably be legally not enforced more often than not.   Don’t tell that to Adrian Beltre.

The first pitch of an inning must be thrown within 2:25 of the last out of the previous inning if the game is only televised locally; and within 2:45 if the game is national.  Got that?  And remember the ol’ 8 warm-up pitches?  Well, they only exist if you can get them in before the clock strikes the :30 mark.  If not, you forfeit the rest.  Violation of these rules will result in no discipline until May 1st, and then will consist of warnings and fines.  Good luck with that.  Not for nothing, a future installment of Baseballcraziness will deal with the pace of play (stay tuned).

The Front Office Move DuJour: Andrew Friedman, the 38-year old wunderkind from Tampa got 5/$40M from the Dodgers – not to pitch or play centerfield or hit home runs – but to make player personnel decisions.  I guess in a world where CEOs make $50M/year, this is not such a bad deal.  But, come on, that is a lot of money for a guy in khakis.  And the Dodgers still have Ned Colletti on the payroll as a “consultant”, a new GM (Farhan Zaidi, from Oakland), and a new Sr. VP of Baseball Operations (Josh Byrnes, from the Padres).  Chavez Ravine is rocking quite the “C” Suite.

So go the dominoes.  When Friedman left the Rays, it made available an opt-out clause in Joe Maddon’s contract with the Rays – a clause by all accounts he didn’t know or forgot he had.  Traveling across the country in his Winnebago, Maddon decided to test the market and landed on the North Side of Chicago for 5/$25M.  In keeping with the AL East to the NL Central theme, Theo Epstein and Jed Hoyer (formerly of the Red Sox), along with Crazy Joe (formerly of the Rays), were able to woo Jon Lester (formerly of the Back Bay) to the Friendly (if currently unsightly) Confines.  I guess familiar faces and $155M have a way of making that type of transition a skosh easier.

 

Back in L.A., Friedman immediately went about cleaning house, spending Guggenheim’s money, and remaking the ballclub in someone’s image.  In baseball there is an adage about being strong up the middle.  I guess Friedman and Company think the same way.  A new catcher (Yasmani Grandal from San Diego, by all accounts a defensive upgrade over A.J. Ellis, although Ellis did get a 1-year deal to catch Clayton Kerhsaw every 5^th day); a new 2B (Dee Gordon out in a “sell-high” move; and their neighbor to the south, Howie Kendrick, in for at least 1 season); Hanley gone in an effort to avoid the expensive long-term deal knowing that they have a stud knocking on the door in AAA, and J-Roll in from Philly to hold the fort for a few months – potentially the whole season (and rewarding the faithful with a game-winning three-run jack on Opening Day, and two painful errors in Game 2); and the merry-go-round in CF is over, with Joc Pederson taking over full-time duties (service time be damned (and if you don’t know what that means, maybe it should be the topic of another article down the road when Kris Bryant and Addison Russell make their debuts)).

As a side note, when 70% are not watching the Dodgers, it is easy to forget that the Dodgers have Juan Uribe at 3B, they signed Hector Olivera for $60M+ to play where, exactly?, they still have Alex Guerrrero ($28M) who has a contract that allows him to refuse to go the minors (which is just as well as he got his ear bitten off there last season), Justin Turner, and Kiki Hernandez, all to play the infield.  And we cannot forget that, even with all of the off-season moves, there are still 4 outfielders for what I count as 3 positions, which means that Andre Ethier will be the most expensive pinch hitter in baseball this season (3/$55M).

Moving on . . .

As previously discussed on this site, Max Scherzer went to the Capital.  And, living up to the hype, nearly threw a no-no on Opening Day (only to suffer a loss because Ian Desmond forgot how to play baseball over the past few months).

After finishing last (for the second time in three years), the Red Sox yanked out their checkbooks to the tune of nearly $200M for the Panda to play 3B and the aforementioned Hanley Ramirez to (a) gahd the Monstah and (b) try to live up to the legacy of another dreadlocked right-handed slugger by the name of Ramirez who played LF for the BoSox and (c) remind all Red Sox fans what they missed when he was traded to the Marlins for a young hurler named Josh Beckett (who, helped the Red Sox win a World Series, was then traded to the Dodgers as part of a blockbuster deal two years ago, and retired this off-season).

But the Red Sox were not done.  Because they have 7 outfielders (Hanley, Mookie, Shane, Allen, Daniel, JBJ, Rusney Castillo for $72.5M), they decided to try to match that by spending $72M for an infielder who will not – any time soon – displace Panda at 3B, Xander at SS, or Pedey at 2B.  I guess it’s good to be rich.  And yet, they didn’t spend any money to get a #1 starter.  They did, however, dole out $82.5M for Rick Porcello on Opening Day – that’s $20M+/year for a guy with a career 4.30 ERA.  Yes, it is really good to be rich.

Staying in the AL East, Russell Martin went home to Canada, and Alex Anthopoulos brought in one of baseball’s most underrated stars, Josh Donaldson, to play 3B.

This is the first Opening Day since 1996 that Derek Jeter was not on the Yankees roster.  In his place, Didi Gregorius.  And Stephen Drew to back him up.  Bronx Bombers?!?

Nelson Cruz took his talents to the Great Northwest, and made the Mariner bandwagon the most popular place to be in March and April.  It will be interesting to see how many seats are available come the Dog Days.

Ervin Santana got busted for the juice – I guess baseball’s drug problem is not in it’s past.  No matter, while he gives up about $7M in salary for 80 games, he is still guaranteed another $47M+.  Who says cheaters never prosper?

Hopefully this guy is true to his word, as Giancarlo Stanton – as previously written – signed the richest contract in sports history.  And it certainly doesn’t look like getting hit in the face has had any effect on his power stroke.  Query: How soon until Schutt starts marketing custom faceguards for the Little League set?

As previously written about here, the Cardinals’ present and future slugger, the guy with the million watt smile and million dollar personality, Oscar Tavares, died while driving drunk in the Dominican Republic.  His girlfriend also died in that car.  So tragic.

As morbid as it sounds, the Cards found themselves in need of a new right fielder, so they acquired Jason Heyward from the Braves.  He repaid them with 3 hits on Opening Night.

A-Rod is back.  He scribbled out an apology note to anyone who cared to decipher his handwriting. I guess bygones aren’t always bygones: “Batting seventh for your New York Yankees: Alex Rodriguez . . .”

Torii Hunter is back home.  He signed a 1-year deal with the Twins rather than retiring to watch his sons play baseball and football.

Pete Rose wants back in.  Is this funny or tone deaf (I vote the former):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYEGUzV-tOs

I saved the best two for last:

The San Diego Padres went out and hired a G.M. with what some might call a checkered past with respect to playing by the rules.  They then decided to forego honoring their long-time play-by-play guy, Jerry Coleman, and instead honor the departing commissioner, with his own special plaza in Petco Park.  The fans loved this idea so much that they started a petition to strip the commissioner’s name from the area.  The Pads were two for two.

But then the Winter Meetings started, and like a drunken sailor stumbling into the Gaslight with a fist full of hundies, A.J. Preller went to work.  In short order he acquired:

• Matt Kemp to play RF;
• Will Myers to play CF;
• Justin Upton to play LF;
• Will Middlebrooks to play 3B;
• Derek Norris and Tim Federowicz to catch; and
• Brandon Morrow and Josh Johnson to round out the pitching staff.

But wait, there’s more.  When no one else was willing to step up and sign Big-Game James Shields, Preller pulled out his Black Amex and ponied up 4/$75M for the horse.  Okay, their work was done, now A.J. could take a breath.

What’s that you say, “the season hasn’t started yet, there’s still time”?  Well, okay, then.  Moments before the first pitch in Wrigley on Sunday night, the Padres acquired the best closer in baseball, Craig Kimbrell, and gave Justin Upton (and the Braves) a nice gift by bringing in his lousy older brother, Melvin, Jr. (nee, B.J.), and the remainder of his $72.25M contract (just $46M left to be paid).

That is a lot of work for the first few months on the job.

And the best story of the off-season happened in one day, in 5 parks, in the Arizona desert.  That is when Will Ferrell decided to go all Jose Oquendo (or, for you local types, Derrel Thomas) and play 10 positions in 1 day – but he added the flair of doing it for 10 different teams.

And he did it all to raise money for cancer research.  Stay classy, indeed!

So there you have it, 5 months synopsized in under 2000 words.

Crack out this mug . . .

And, as Mike Winters said at about 7pm CDT Sunday night . . .

PLAY BALL!!!

HOWE WILL JOSH’S STORY END?

As I think I may have mentioned here in the past, each morning, before I even put two feet on the floor, I check Peter Gammons’ “Around the Majors” blog.  He always have useful tidbits from the day before, and loads of advanced metrics that even true baseball nerds would find overwhelming.  And each day, at the end of the blog, he lists current and former MLBer birthdays.  These birthdays will be the source material for another posting at another time, but one name earlier this week got me thinking.

On March 10 , it would have been Steve Howe’s 48^th birthday.  You read that right, it would have been.  I am not sure how I missed – or more likely just forgot – that Steve Howe died.  I feel pretty confident that if you are reading this, you are well aware of Steve Howe, his career, and his downfall.  I would go so far as to guess that more than half of you know the exact number of times he was suspended (make your guess, the answer is below).  But I have to relate that I was shocked to realize (or be reminded) that he died in 2006.  And that got me thinking about our modern day Steve Howe   . . . Josh Hamilton.

If you all know Steve Howe’s story, I am certain that you know Josh Hamilton’s story.  But even if you do, it is worth recapping some of the high/lowlights:

He was the Number One pick in the MLB Draft in 1999 (ahead of Josh Beckett), and received a signing bonus of just under $4M.

In the Minors “he was introduced to tattoos and alcohol” (per his bio), and had his first rehab stint in 2001.  He checked in to Betty Ford in 2002.

In 2003, he showed up late for training camp and ended up missing the entire season for various “personal reasons” (including substance abuse).

In 2004, he failed at least three drug tests and was suspended for the entire season.

He tried a comeback in 2005, but was arrested for vandalism.  He relapsed again (was he ever sober?) in 2006, and, you guessed it, missed the entire season.

During the 2006 season Josh began a slow and steady rise out of the abyss, starting when he showed up on his grandmother’s porch, strung out and penniless.  Through hard work, dedication, an amazing support system, and an unbelievably forgiving MLB community, Josh was given a sixth chance.  And he made the most of it.

He played amazingly well for the Reds in 2007, but lost out to Ryan Braun (ironically) for Rookie of the Year.  He was traded at the end of the season to the Rangers.

2008 was a break out year, with the crowning achievement either:

• His show of shows in the Home Run Derby at Yankee Stadium (worth the watch).

OR

• His being intentionally walked with the bases loaded with Rangers trailing 7-3 in the 9th inning (MLB won’t allow me to actually post the video, but here is the link). http://m.mlb.com/video/v3328194/hamilton-is-intentionally-walked-with-bases-loaded

In 2009, even though injured for part of the season, Josh was an All-Star.  The season, however, was marred when his old demons reared their head and Josh ended up hammered in a bar in Arizona.  It is unclear if he spent any time in rehab after this incident.

Regardless, he bounced back in 2010 with just the following (despite missing 29 games due to injury):

• Batting title with a .359 average.
• Led the AL with a 1.044 OPS.
• ALCS MVP.
• And finally, the American League MVP.

In 2011, Hamilton chapped my personal hide by diving head first into home plate and breaking his hand.  Well played, sir/jackass.  And he still hit 25 homeruns.  And then he was one Nelson Cruz catch away from being the MVP of the World Series.

In 2012, he went 5-5, with 4 two-run dingers in a game in Baltimore:

But that season ended with Hamilton first misplaying a flyball in the division championship game against the A’s:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5Fx4z0V2mY

and then striking out in his final at bat as the Rangers fans booed him:

As we all know, Arte Moreno backed up the Brinks truck around Christmas, 2012, and gave Josh a 5-year/$125M contract.  In my humble opinion, signing with the Angels was the beginning of the end.  When Josh was playing in Cincinnati and Texas, those teams employed a gentlemen named Johnny Narron to serve as a special assignment coach and Josh’s mentor.  Johnny traveled with Josh and stayed at his side nearly every minute of every day.  When with the Rangers, their then-manager, Ron Washington, was a recovering cocaine addict, so he was especially attuned Josh’s problems and needs.

However, when the Angels signed Josh, they did not bring Narron along.  The reasons for this are a mystery (made more mysterious by the fact that they eventually hired him last year, but not at the Major League level).  So Josh did not have the same support system in Anaheim that he had in Cincinnati and Dallas.  And guess what happened?

We may never know (and it’s not our business) how many relapses Hamilton has had in the past few years.  His most recent descent involved alcohol and cocaine, and he voluntarily confessed his sins to the Commissioner – it is not like he was caught doing lines in the bullpen.  Because of the manner in which Josh came back into the league in 2007, per an edict by the Commissioner, he does not automatically fall under the MLB Drug Program.  Rather, a four-person disciplinary committee was convened to determine his fate, and they deadlocked.  Thus, a neutral, third party arbitrator will make the final decision regarding Josh’s current predicament.

The Angels owe Hamilton $83M between now and the end of the 2017 season.  Ouch!  There is hope (quiet, unspoken, but hope nonetheless) within the Angels organization that he gets suspended, giving them some salary relief.  (If he is sent to rehab, he would be owed his full salary for 30 days, then half his salary for the next 30 days — a total of $6.2 million.  If he is suspended and not in treatment, he would not be paid.  It is unclear whether the Angels would have to pay Hamilton at all if he previously entered a rehabilitation program that lasted at least 60 days.  Heady and expensive questions to be decided by a single judge.)

But should the Angels get any relief?  As it is commonly said, “they bought their ticket”, or as we lawyers like to say, caveat emptor.  They knew what they were getting when the signed the contract; they didn’t provided the necessary support system; and even if they had, they had to know that relapse was nearly inevitable.  (The statistics say that between 50-90% of addicts relapse at some point.  I could not find specific statistics of repeated relapsers.)

I am pulling for Josh.  Not because he plays for a local team, and not because I care about the Angels throwing away nine figures on a broken down drug abuser, but because I am a fan of greatness.  And from 2010-2012, Josh was the picture of greatness.  A five-tool player who made it look too easy and was required viewing whenever he came to the plate.

As a side note, my friend Matt represented Hamilton when he came back with the Reds.  Josh called him after the season to say he was switching agents.  This was not because of anything Matt had done, but because Matt was Jewish; and Josh felt more comfortable being represented by a born-again Christian like him, someone who had also turned his life over to Christ.  My son and I ran into Matt at the 2010 All-Star game, and we asked him if it was still okay to root for Josh (friendship over fandom).  Matt’s response: “Of course, he’s too great a player and too great a guy not to root for him”.  That was all the license I needed.

How(e) will Josh’s story end?  Unfortunately, history has a way of repeating itself.  I have this feeling, this pit in my stomach, that one day we will open the Sports Page (or fire up the browser) like we did in 2006 (and then forgot about), and learn that another talented baseball player with a checkered past was found dead; another player gone as the result of some drug-fueled accident that we all saw coming a thousand miles away.  For the sake of Josh, his family, and for fans of baseball , Boy do I hope I am wrong!

PLAY BALL!!

Trivia Answer: 7

p.s.  For those who have known me a long time, Happy Birthday to this guy:

OPENING GAY (A Conversation)

Daniel Murphy, the Mets second baseman, skipped Opening Day last season to be with his wife for the birth of their first child.  He got a ton a flak for that in the New York media – as would be expected as they give flak for essentially anything.  At the time – and still to this day – I commend(ed) him for this decision.  It wasn’t Game 7 of the World Series, and there would/should be many more Opening Days, but that is a moment that you can never get back.  So, other than being a slick fielder, swinging a good left-handed stick, and wearing Franklin batting gloves, that was about all I knew about Daniel Murphy.  And what I knew, I liked.

Fast forward 11 months.

But first, fast forward 4 months or flashback 7 months; however you want to flip the calendar.

Last July, then-Commissioner Bud Selig appointed former Major Leaguer Billy Bean as MLB’s first Ambassador of Inclusion.  In case you don’t know Billy’s story (he is not the Moneyball G.M. of the Athletics; this is Billy Bean without the “e”), he played in the Majors for part of six seasons.  He retired in 1995 because it was too difficult to hide his sexuality from his family, his friends, his teammates, and the fans.  In 1999, at the age of 35, Billy came out publicly.  And he has handled the fallout ever since.

MLB, having dealt with the likes of John Rocker, Ozzie Guillen, Yunel Escobar, and Roger McDowell, decided to be proactive.  They created the position of Ambassador of Inclusion in an effort to “offer guidance and training and to encourage equal opportunities for gays and lesbians in Major and Minor League clubs”.

Billy’s first few months in the position were relatively uneventful.  Then, he accepted Mets’ G.M. Sandy Alderson’s invitation to address the team at Spring Training.  Billy came in, gave a short speech, donned a uniform, and pitched the last round of batting practice.  All was right with the world.  After the workout, some journalists asked Daniel Murphy about Bean’s visit.   A quick, but very important, side note: Murphy is a devout Christian.  His response, however, may surprise you.  Herewith:

“I disagree with his lifestyle.  I do disagree with the fact that Billy is a homosexual.  That doesn’t mean I can’t still invest in him and get to know him.  I don’t think the fact that someone is a homosexual should completely shut the door on investing in them in a relational aspect.  Getting to know him.  That, I would say, you can still accept them but I do disagree with the lifestyle, 100 percent.

Maybe, as a Christian, that we haven’t been as articulate enough in describing what our actual stance is on homosexuality.  We love the people.  We disagree the lifestyle.  That’s the way I would describe it for me.  It’s the same way that there are aspects of my life that I’m trying to surrender to Christ in my own life.  There’s a great deal of many things, like my pride.  I just think that as a believer trying to articulate it in a way that says just because I disagree with the lifestyle doesn’t mean I’m just never going to speak to Billy Bean every time he walks through the door.  That’s not love.  That’s not love at all.”

There is so much in that statement, and I truly don’t know what to do with any/all of it.  This Blog never intends to be overtly or overly political, and certainly not religious, but I could not keep myself from throwing this out there to see what other people have to say, what you all think.

If we put aside the word “lifestyle” for just a second (which I know you can’t), the statement may be a model of what we want to teach our kids about accepting people who are, who look, who think, who act differently than we do.

If a devout Christian who has “surrender[ed] to Christ” can love someone who they vehemently disagree with, then the lyrics to Imagine may not be an impossible dream.  If you can “acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who’s standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours”, then maybe there is hope for mankind.  [Bonus points for anyone who can give attribution to that quote. Link below.]

Unfortunately, we have no choice but to come back to the word “lifestyle”.  How much stock should we put into that word and that concept?  Is Murphy’s statement the start of a better dialogue and understanding, or is as far as some people will ever go on the issue?  Billy Bean seems to think the former:

“After reading his comments, I appreciate that Daniel spoke his truth.  I really do.  I was visiting his team, and a reporter asked his opinion about me.  He was brave to share his feelings, and it made me want to work harder and be a better example that someday might allow him to view things from my perspective, if only for just a moment.

I respect him, and I want everyone to know that he was respectful of me.  We have baseball in common, and for now, that might be the only thing.  But it’s a start.

The silver lining in his comments are that he would be open to investing in a relationship with a teammate, even if he ‘disagrees’ with the lifestyle.  It may not be perfect, but I do see him making an effort to reconcile his religious beliefs with his interpretation of the word lifestyle.  It took me 32 years to fully accept my sexual orientation, so it would be hypocritical of me to not be patient with others.

Inclusion means everyone, plain and simple.  Daniel is part of that group.  A Major League clubhouse is now one of the most diverse places in sports.  It wasn’t always that way, but we can thank No. 42 for that.  So in his honor, with a little patience, compassion and hard work, we’ll get there.”

I am conflicted, but Billy has considerably more credibility on this issue than do I.  So, after hearing Billy speak on the matter, I felt pretty positive; pretty upbeat.  And then I switched the channel to CNN and heard a retired neurosurgeon from Johns Hopkins, a man who is contemplating a run for President, say that homosexuality is a choice because people “go into prison straight – and when they come out, they’re gay”.  And then my head exploded.

I don’t have any answers, just more questions.  What I do know is that, fortunately, in my quiet little corner of the world, my kids are being raised in a community where being gay is only different in that it is not the norm.  Most kids in our neighborhood have a mom and a dad; but some have a mom and mom while others have a dad and a dad; and my kids have a stepmom and a dad.  Regardless of your beliefs on this issue, I think it is important to discuss it openly – out of the closet, so to speak – so that people can make their own informed and impassioned assessments.

Billy’s appearance at Mets’ camp and Daniel’s statement have not received nearly enough media coverage (what with private email accounts, and racist fraternity members, and NFL free agency), but it really should.  If for no other reason than the more light that is shone, the better we can understand the issues and each other.

And with that I say, truly unironically . . .

PLAY BALL!!!

 

p.s.         The answer to the question asked above is at 1:22.

 

LIFE LESSONS

The crack of the bat.

The pop of the glove.

The smell of the grass.

The click of the smart phone?

Ah, Spring Training is here.

If you are wondering which of the above is not like the other, you may have missed the current brouhaha involving Curt Schilling and his daughter, Gabby.

For starters, I have great ambivalence about Curt Schilling.  I have always found him to be pompous, arrogant, a poor businessman, and little too far to the right of Rush Limbaugh for my taste.  But then there is that small issue of the bloody sock and one of the greatest Willis Reed moments in the history of baseball (top two below). Theo Epstein showed up at his house for Thanksgiving dinner in 2003; Schilling promised Theo he would bring a championship to Boston; and 11 months later he helped Reverse the Curse.  And now this.

 

If you missed this story amongst the A-Rod hype or the LeSean McCoy trade or your own Little League opening days, it goes a little something like this: Curt Schilling has a 17-year old daughter who just got offered a scholarship to play softball at Salve Regina University.  As any proud papa might, Curt tweeted out congratulations.

What followed was shocking, but not necessarily unexpected. Internet/Twitter trolls started responding with some of the most vicious, hateful, nasty, and obscene comments you can imagine. (Note: I will not quote or link to any of them here.  If you are so inclined, they are available all over the Web.)  Okay, you think, that’s what happens on the Internet.  Maybe you, but not Schill.

No, Schill went all William Foster on some of these jackasses.  He (or some intern at ESPN) dug around and found out who these trolls are, where they work, where they go to school, and most importantly, their actual names.  And then he proceeded to blast that info across the Internet.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muBJimrD7_M

One of the guys is a part-time ticket seller for Yankees.  Or at least he was.  He has been fired.  A student at Brookdale Community College has been suspended.  As of now, Schilling has decided not to go after any of the others, but he is looking into all legal options.

A couple of yahoos clicked 140 characters and probably had a good chuckle.  I guess they didn’t see this coming:

But wow, is there a life lesson to be learned here.

For me, the most important line of the movie “Social Network” is when Rooney Mara tells Jesse Eisenberg that the Internet is written in ink.

This is a message I have tried – time and again – to communicate to my teenage niece and nephew, and that which I am increasingly trying to get across to my soon-to-be teenage son.

Every kid I know has an iPhone or an iPod, with texting and Instagram and now Snapchat, and other apps just like them.  Soon they will be on Facebook.  But they simply don’t have the mental capacity to know – to truly understand – the implications of what they do/post/write.  We need to take advantage of these moments.

The Gabby Schilling situation has brought to the fore, writ large, what can happen when people write things on the Internet that they would never write on the blackboard in front of class or say to a person’s face.  And now, for at least two people, any Google search of their name will forever make reference to behavior that is/was/and always will be deemed deplorable.

While I am not sure what to do with the specific language in some of the horrendous tweets, I do want to share the entire story with my son so he can see the real-life, long-term consequences of what, I am sure, seemed like momentary cyber fun.

As I have said before, sports often offer up some of the best life lessons.  It is just a shame that Gabby Schilling had to go through this ringer so that we might be in a better position to teach our kids.

One last note: Opening Day is but 1 month away.

PLAY BALL!!

 FOR THE LOVE OF . . . PART 2

So now we know.   Maybe.   Sort of.

Did Max Scherzer sign the second richest pitching contract in history for the love of money or to win a ring?   Or both?  One thing we do know, another team had to offer $66M more than Detroit to make him change teams.  (Or did they?  See below.)

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.   What matters is that Scherzer has aligned himself with a Murderer’s Row of a starting rotation that may very well lead to a World Series championship next October.

 

Now, let’s get wonky.   If you don’t like math or minutiae, stop reading and clicking now.

Scott Boras, the dark lord of baseball agents, was able to put yet another player on the Nationals.  If you are scoring at home (or if you are alone (-K.O.)), that makes 7 players (out of 25) on the Nats’ roster represented by Boras.  Fine, that all makes sense.

But if you are Scott Boras, and you and your client turned down $144M last year, and you watched arguably your biggest agenting rival (the Levinson Brothers) sign Jon Lester to a $155M deal, and you know Clayton Kershaw got $215M last year, how do you compete?  Well, you use a little misdirection.

If you are so inclined, the link below will walk you through the “true value” of Scherzer’s deal (roughly $170M/7).  But, suffice it to say, the $210M number that has been reported doesn’t truly/accurately reflect the value of Scherzer’s contract.  Three Card Monty it is not; but true and accurate it ain’t either.

http://www.fangraphs.com/blogs/max-scherzer-and-when-210-million-isnt-210-million/

The structure of the deal is as follows:

• $10M this year
• $15M in each of 2016, 2017, 2018
• $35M in each of 2019, 2020, 2021 (all deferred and paid over the ensuing 7 years)
• $50M signing bonus spread over the life of the contract

http://espn.go.com/mlb/story/_/id/12212896/max-scherzer-pact-washington-nationals-gets-35m-per-last-3-seasons

Question #1 for all you labor lawyers out there:  How does Scherzer work for free from 2019-2021?  Doesn’t that violate some law?

Question #2 for math majors and accountants:  How is it a “signing bonus” if it is spread over the life of the contract?  (Note: I had this same question with respect to Jon Lester’s $30M “signing bonus” paid over the life of his contract.)

Question #3 for Boras and Mike Rizzo:  Does the “life of the contract” mean the 7 years of service or the 14 total years of payment?

I guess these are all high-class questions that don’t really matter to anyone other than business managers and the IRS.  But, dammit, I want to know!!

As I was discussing with a friend earlier this week, this deal harkens back to Bobby Bonilla’s renegotiated contract with the Mets from 2000.  In case you don’t regularly click on Cot’s Baseball Contracts (and you really should), here are the broad strokes:

In 2000, Bonilla was an aging, 36-year old, ex-slugger, to whom the Mets still owed $5.9M.  The Mets wanted to release Bonilla, and not pay him.  Shockingly, Bonilla was okay with that concept.  In return, he agreed to defer the money, with interest, as an annuity.  Starting on July 1, 2011, and continuing every July 1^st for the next 24 years, the Mets cut Bonilla a check for slightly less than $1.2M.  If you do the math, Bonilla traded $5.9M in 2000 for $29.8M over what is essentially the rest of his life.  In short, Bonilla gets $1.2M/year for 25 years.

Now, based on everything I have read about Scherzer’s deal (way too much, to be sure), we can do the following math:

At the end of Scherzer’s 7 years of service to the Nationals (or any other team he is traded to, as he does not have a no-trade clause), after playing 14 years in the Majors and earning roughly $135M, Max will be paid $1.2/month every month, for 7 years.  Take that, Bobby Bo.

The best part of all of this: regardless of annual salary or the years or the amount of the deferral, Scherzer, and all other pitchers, report to Spring Training in 27 days.

PLAY BALL!!

 

FOR THE LOVE OF . . .

What do we want from our athletes?  What is – or should be – their driving force?  They play for the love of . . . what, exactly?

From a young age we are taught – we are told – it is “all about the rings”.  I remember playing intramurals in college, where it was “all about the cotton” (championship t-shirts, that is).  But is that what it’s all about?

Should athletes play for rings?  Or should they play “for the love of the game”?  Or, knowing that they have very short shelf-lives, should they try to make as much money as possible, and let everything else be a secondary consideration?

These questions popped into my mind during some crazy Hot Stove action before the New Year.  As part of the Dee Gordon trade, the Dodgers sent Dan Haren to the Marlins.  Haren had previously told the Dodgers, who in turn informed the Marlins, that he would rather retire than be paid $10M to spend another 8 months away from his family.  Noble or knuckleheaded?  Too rich or too rude?  (As a side note, the Dodgers included the entire $10M salary as part of the deal, which the Marlins get to keep, gratis, if Haren retires.)

In 2011 – after an 86-win season in which they finished 10 games out of first place – Jered Weaver signed a discounted deal with the Angels to stay in his hometown.  Here is what he said at the time (it should be noted that he signed this deal over the objection of Scott Boras):

“If $85 (million) is not enough to take care of my family and other generations of families then I’m pretty stupid, but how much money do you really need in life?  I’ve never played this game for the money.  I played it for the love and the competitive part of it.  It just so happens that baseball’s going to be taking care of me for the rest of my life.”

Do we think less of him as an athlete because of this?  Or do we applaud his choice?

Albert Pujols could have retired the second greatest Cardinal of all time – a living legend in St. Louis.  Instead, he turned his back on the only professional organization he had ever played for and went for Arte Moreno’s riches (in actuality, he left St. Louis for a mere $20M more).  Good guy or bad?

My personal bee-in-the-bonnet: Johnny Damon, the leader of the Idiots who brought Boston its first World Series title in 86 years, the guy who would never have had to pay for another meal in Boston, took an additional $12M over 4 years to play for the hated Yankees (the Red Sox offered 4/$40M, the Yankees 4/$52M).  I never understood why he would do this.  But maybe he loved the City of New York and always wanted to live there; maybe his wife was a Broadway aficionado who cajoled him into moving; maybe he was sick of the Back Bay and lobstah rolls; and maybe money was the only factor.  (Side note: Damon was represented by Scott Boras, so you do the literal math).  I don’t think we will ever know.  But we can still speculate . . . and stew.

Back in 2003, Karl Malone (one of the two mainstays of the entire Jazz franchise) left Utah after 18 seasons to chase a ring with the Lakers.  A true professional? Or a disloyal backstabber?

We can all recount – from memory – the greats of the games who have never tasted the championship champagne.  Quick, off the top of your head, name five (mine below).  We always discuss these players in solemn tones, as if their careers ultimately lack something.  But do they?  Are their careers any less because they have never stood on the podium or visited the White House?  Maybe they were perfectly content playing for the love of the game and all of the riches (even if not maximized) that came with it.

How do we feel about these guys?  What is it that we want?  Play for rings, riches, region?

It’s easy to stand on mount pious and say what we would do.  But we don’t live in their world.  Bud Fox once asked Gordon Gekko “How many yachts can you jet ski behind?  How much is enough?” (Editor’s note: this line has always bothered me as, from my pauper’s viewpoint, I don’t believe you can actually jet ski behind a yacht.  See  1:46 mark below.)

But we, as normal people, cannot fathom how people calculate untold riches.  $74M may mean the same to us as $129M – at some point you cannot keep track.  But for Carmelo Anthony, based solely on dollars, that was the decision he had to make last summer when he re-signed with the Knicks.  He would have given up $55M to sign with the Bulls.  Add to that the fact that his wife loves living in New York and he has an 8-year old son who ostensibly goes to school and has friends.  And yet, Anthony was crushed by the basketball cognoscenti for putting money ahead of championships.  Is that fair?  Does anyone, with the exception of other athletes, have standing to opine on this topic?

Last Spring, Jon Lester – much to the chagrin of his agents, I am sure – told the Red Sox he would take a hometown discount to stay in Boston (despite the fact that he is from Atlanta).  The Red Sox tried to take advantage of this loyalty and low-balled him – offering him approximately 2/3 of what he eventually got (original Red Sox offer: 4/$70M; final deal with Cubs: 6/$155M).  With the Red Sox he had a chance to play for rings; he would have been able to stay home (in Newton); he would have shown loyalty.  But does anyone blame him for taking Theo Epstein’s money?

One last thought/question: What will we make of the eventual contract Max Scherzer signs?  The Tigers offered him 6/$144M last Spring and he turned it down.  Although he is not “from” Detroit (he is from the St. Louis area), he has lived and pitched in Detroit for 5 years.  He has no kids; just a wife who is active in the Detroit community.  The Tigers are a perennial contender.  How much more would another team have to offer, and who would that team have to be, to entice Scherzer make a move?  Depending on which team’s hat Max dons next month, we may know a whole lot more about him: is he playing for rings, riches, or region?  We already know – unlike that other Tigers’ pitcher – it isn’t just for love of the game.

I truly don’t know the answer, as I am not even sure I can comprehend the question.  But, now that I have spent a minute contemplating the issue, I know I will think twice before I castigate another athlete for making a decision mere mortals cannot possibly grasp.

Last Note: The first pitchers and catchers report 6 weeks from tomorrow.

PLAY BALL!!

 

MY UN-TITLED ATHLETE ANSWERS:

• Ted Williams
• Ernie Banks
• Dan Marino
• Charles Barkley
• Karl Malone

 

HOPE

Hope is a dangerous thing.

We as fans – and as fathers – often fall victim to the curse of “hope”. We hope that our team will win the World Series; we hope that we get that raise or sign that client; we hope that our kids grow up healthy and happy.  And somewhere, in the deep recesses of our dreams – in places that we don’t talk about at cocktail parties – we hope our young son will one day play big league baseball.  Hope.  It’s a dangerous thing.

When I was 12 years old, I went over to a friend’s house to take batting practice.  You read that right, in 1984, he had a batting cage in his backyard.  And he swung a wood bat.  His dad had hope – maybe/probably too much hope.  He pushed and prodded, yelled and screamed, and made his son take batting practice with a broken wood bat to punish him for a late swing and bad mechanics at the plate.

Red told us that “hope can drive a man insane.”  So how was that father-of-the-year-candidate rewarded?  Third pick overall, a 14-year Major League career, 2 All-Star Game appearances; a Gold Glove; a 30-HR year and a season hitting .300.  Oh, and over $50M in lifetime earnings.  Dad may have been insane, but he wasn’t crazy.

You want crazy, here is crazy:

Each year, more than 2,500,000 kids play Little League baseball.  And that is just in the United States.  Add to that over 500,000 kids playing Pony Baseball.  And we simply cannot account for the tens (hundreds?) of thousands playing with rocks and sticks in far-away places and on far-away islands. In short, a lot of youngsters lace up (or, more accurately, have their dad lace up) their cleats each Spring.

In any given year, there are 1280 Major League baseball players.  If we assume that the only universe of players is from Little League and Pony baseball (which is a horrible assumption, but one we will use for illustration purposes only), that means that, on average, 4 out of every 10,000 Little League/Pony players will make it the big leagues.

“Well,” you say, “my goal is just to have my son play ‘professional’ baseball.”  Okay, let’s take a look at that: There are approximately 242 teams in the Minor Leagues, with each having 25 players on their roster.  Not accounting for movement within teams, you have approximately 6000 Minor League players.  That means that 20 out of every 10,000 Little League/Pony players might play professional baseball.

So, if your Little League, like ours, has roughly 700 players in a given season, 1-2 kids in entire league (Wee Ball through Majors) may play “professional” baseball at some point in their life.  Purely on a statistical basis, you would need to run through all 700 players, nearly 4 times, before you found a Major Leaguer in the mix.  High hopes indeed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJVewWbeBiY

But then, one morning, you pick up the newspaper or you fire open your web browser – or, if you are like me, you get alerts from MLB and ESPN – and you see that a local boy just 7 years out of high school, has signed a contract worth nearly a third of a billion dollars.  That is Monty Burns money.

And you think to yourself…maybe?!

As we look ahead to yet another Little League or Pony season, as we yell at our kids from the dugout or the stands, as we lament their failings and overly praise their successes, always remember the Wisdom of Red:

Hope is a dangerous thing!

PLAY BALL (and eat turkey)!!

112

In early March, we headed to Arizona (and some headed to Florida) and watched PFP on side fields.  We sat on the grass and drank cold beer in the warm late-winter sun.  We harangued superstars, has-beens, and never-will-bes for autographs and baseballs.  We got our juices flowing, then they “headed north”.

For seven months we could go to bed with the dulcet tones of the Web Gems jingle lulling us to sleep and wake up to read a box a score.  Like Kenny’s wooby, we had the comfort of knowing that baseball was with us – day in, day out.  Whether your drug of choice was Baseball Tonight or Quick Pitch or, or, heaven forbid, FoxSports1, you got your drug.  Whether your dealer was Buster Olney or Derrick Goold or Keith Olbermann, or heaven forbid, Fred Roggin, they were there, on the corner (of your dial) waiting to give you wanted – what you needed – every evening.  And now, in the blink of an eye, like a Keyser Soze, it’s gone.

We wake up this morning with no “today” or “tomorrow” – in the baseball sense.  We only have yesterday.  And what an amazing yesterday it was.  For seven months, we were the lucky recipients of so many brilliant yesterdays that we will have the luxury of telling the tales of Jose Abreu and Derek Jeter and Josh Beckett (someone born the day of the Dodgers previous no-hitter would have a driver’s license and be getting ready to vote), of Mike Trout and Victor Martinez (he of 32 HRs and only 42 SOs).  We will be able to bounce our grandkids on our knee and tell them that we got to watch Clayton Kershaw pitch at the height of his powers – that for one majestic 4-week period, we watched the best pitcher on the planet make something so difficult look so easy, that it had to be seen to be believed.  And that was just the regular season.

When the leaves began to change, and the weather (everywhere outside of Southern California) began to cool; when the kids were fully entrenched in school, and the pumpkin patches started popping up on otherwise desolate fields we never before noticed, baseball took on a new intensity.  October started with the Royals rallying from 4 down with 5 outs to go to start them on an enchanted journey that would end up littered with Halos and migratory birds; a yellow brick road that actually led back to Kansas (City).

The Giants set themselves up by having their best pitcher pitch their biggest game (on October 2^nd), and then jumped on his back for the next four weeks.

We were then treated to a terrific 10 days of baseball.

We love to speak in hushed tones of times past; of historic World Series moments. Those moments – in our words – are basked in a sepia glow – never as bright as the moment itself, but ever more poignant. We all have our favorites:

Jackie Robinson sliding in (safely?) at home, stealing a base that only a cat burglar would have tried to swipe.

Yogi Berra jumping into Don Larsen’s arms at the end of the only no-hitter (a perfect game, no less) in World Series history.

Bill Mazeroski walking off the World Series for Western Pennsylvania and the history books (at least until 1993).

There is Pudge Fisk (we have to explain to our kids that there was an original “Pudge” before Rodriguez) waving and willing a ball fair in the 12^th of inning of Game 6 of one of the greatest World Series ever played.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agkJ5WFNL4k&feature=player_detailpage

Who can forget Reggie Jackson’s “3 Swings”?

Or, just that single swing against rookie Bob Welch?  (BTW, it’s worth the 6 minutes.)

How about Pops Stargell literally jumping for joy in 1979?

Or when Don Denkinger became a household name.

When Bill Buckner’s life – and the lives of New Englanders up and down the Eastern Seaboard – changed forever (or for at least another 28 years).

“She is . . . gone!”

Kirby Puckett scaling walls.

Joe Carter doing his best Bill Mazeroski impression, and then celebrating like a Little Leaguer (in a good way).

Jim Leyritz doing the unimaginable.

Luis Gonzalez breaking his bat (and the hearts of New Yorkers a month after 9/11) against a drawn-in infield.  (Not for nothing, but listen to Tim McCarver’s observation at the :30 mark of this video.)

23-year old Josh Beckett completing a 5-hit shut-out in the House that Ruth built – on 3 days’ rest.

A one-hopper to Keith Foulke that ended one of history’s longest droughts and brought the phrase “Now I can die in peace” into the vernacular.

Three of the wildest innings you will ever watch (endure?) on cold night in St. Louis in 2011.

Baseball officianados – or so we thought – (re)learning the obstruction rule in real time.

But, even considering all of above, we had the pleasure and honor these past few days of watching Mad Bum.  What did he do?  Well, quite simply, he made history.  In a world of pitch counts and specialized relief corps; in a world of $200M arms, and countless Tommy John surgeries (39 in the Majors and Minors between February and May); in a world of cautious managing, we saw something remarkable.  And, like Halley’s Comet, something we may never see again in our lifetime.  Time may dull the memory, but the statistics and records will forever stand: 21 IP, 9 H; 17 K; 0 BB; 0.43 ERA; .476 WHIP; 2 Wins; 1 five-inning Save (the longest in WS history) on 2 days’ rest.  We have run out of superlatives; he was simply astonishing.

There have been 110 official World Series.  Some are memorable, and others are easily forgotten (quick quiz: who played in the 2005 World Series?  Answer at the bottom.).  In an incredible season of baseball, we were treated to a fantastic finish.  Two Wild Card teams, neither with 90 wins, neither with great odds to get past their first game, let alone three rounds.  Blow outs and nail biters.  And it ends with a 25-year old horse doing things we may never see again, with the tying run dying 90 feet from rapture.  Does it – can it – get any better?

A quick aside so it can be put to rest forever: There is no world in which Alex Gordon should have been sent home; and had he been, we would have seen the first World Series end with an out at home plate (lest we forget the 2003 Division Series ending with JT Snow lying prone and Ivan Rodriguez clutching the ball like it was Temple of Doom.

A secondary aside: Had they sent Gordon, the World Series may have been determined based on an interpretation of Rule 7.13, which was put into effect after a season-ending injury to whom?  That’s right, Buster Posey.

A tertiary aside: Moments before that ball was hit, my son said, “I am glad I am not on that field.” And sure enough, Gregor Blanco let the moment (and the ball) get away from him, and seconds later Juan Perez did the same.  Lost in all of the hoopla, though, was Brandon Crawford’s play on Perez’s low throw.  Crawford fielded that throw from the wall on a clean short-hop, and was in a perfect position to throw Gordon out.  Had Crawford’s hands not been so Palmolive soft, Gordon could have scored with any form of bobble or drop.

A last aside: Third base coach Mike Jirschele is in his first major league season (as a player, coach, or otherwise).  After playing 13 years in the minors (topping out in Triple-A), after 11 seasons managing the Omaha Storm Chasers, after a total of 36 years on buses and in motels in the bush leagues, at age 59, Mike Jirschele “got the call”.  Do we think that guy, in that situation, was going to go to take that risk?  An aside to the aside, this is a great read if you have a moment:

http://espn.go.com/espn/feature/story/_/id/10619278/a-long-journey-spring-royals-coach-mike-jirschele-path-mlb

So here we are.  We awaken on the day before Halloween as we have three times in the last 5 years – with the San Francisco Giants as champs.  But it feels different in that we wake up today with a potential juggernaut on our hands in Missouri, and they don’t have birds on their chest.

And, regardless of the winner or the loser, we face today with a tiny glimmer of hope; a miniscule lining of silver on an otherwise cloudy day; we face today with the promise of tomorrow:

There are but 112 days until pitchers and catchers report!

http://www.springtrainingcountdown.com/

PLAY BALL! (Soon enough!)

Answer: Astros vs. White Sox