SEASON TICKETS

When I was a kid, there was nothing I wanted more than Dodger season tickets.  The idea of going to Dodger Stadium eighty-one times, watching that many games, eating that may hot dogs, and that many pennants (does anyone remember when they sold felt pennants at the ballpark?) was nothing short of bringing home  heaven.

Of course, we lived more than an hour away from Chavez Ravine, the majority of the games were on school nights – or at least week nights – and my parents never could have afforded the cost of season tickets, parking, and all of those concessions/souvenirs.  Alas, I was forced to live vicariously through my friends, friends whose parents didn’t have the same constraints.  We still went to a handful of games a year, and I still went with friends, but it never seemed to be enough.

As I grew older, the idea of attending 81 baseball games in a six-month span began to lose its luster.  There are a litany of reasons why this is – and I am sure you can name nearly all of them – but chief among them is that baseball games are boring.  “What?!” you say, the man who lives, breathes, and writes about baseball is admitting that baseball is boring?  Yes, it is.  That doesn’t mean I don’t love the game, study the stats, take pleasure in its intricacies, pontificate about its minutiae, and read everything I can about the sport.  It is just my honest assessment that, as a hobby, watching baseball is considerably less exciting – moment to moment – than, say, skiing, or surfing, or scrap booking.

That said, one of the great joys of my life is going to the park.  I have been attending games for more than forty years, and I am not ashamed to admit that I still get butterflies in my belly when I approach the stadium.  Whether it is that look to the left off Highway 360 when Globe Life Park comes into view outside Dallas; or when the “L” approaches the Addison stop in Chicago.  It might be the Citgo sign you see as you drive over the Charles and approach Yawkey Way in Boston; or when the gothic facade of Yankee Stadium rises into the sky as you make your way off the “4” train in the Bronx.  I get this feeling when I pull into the parking lot at Camelback Ranch in Scottsdale for a meaningless Spring Training game, and I get it when I feel gravel under my tires for a Class A game in Lancaster.  The feeling never stops, and I truly hope it never does.

My guess is that attending eighty-one games a year would be a surefire way to extinguish that flame.  Eighty-one games is not a pleasure, it is an obligation; it is a burden.  Our ten-year-old brain often doesn’t – can’t – appreciate what our adult brain knows intuitively.  A ten-year-old doesn’t worry about traffic, or the cost of parking, or tomorrow morning’s meeting, or who in your family you are neglecting by being “out” 81 times a season.  But the adult brain is forced to consider all of those factors when making a game-going decision, and electing to override any of the above can adversely impact your enjoyment of the game.  Oh, to be young again; ignorance surely is bliss.

But, who knows.  Had I been granted my wish, had my dad come home in the spring of 1983 and shown me an envelope filled with 162 actual game-day tickets (remember how quaint an actual ticket was) and told me to get my hat and glove ready, the Oldsmobile Toronado would be headed downtown eighty-one times over the next six months, maybe I would have eventually lost my love of baseball, my desire to attend games, the thrill of approaching the park.

Ironically enough, I now live about a half-marathon from Dodger Stadium.  I have a teenage son who loves baseball and would love nothing more than having season tickets.  I ostensibly have the freedom to go to a ton of games.  But, for the reasons elucidated above, I have never pulled the trigger on season tickets.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: join a group of season ticket holders.  I would be buying ten games; ⅛ of a season; a mere 12.5%.  This was doable.  I checked with some other friends to see if they wanted to split it 5/5, but I had no takers, which was fine.  I am now a proud season ticket holder – but without the dread of obligation, without feeling the burden of going every night.  It took more than thirty years, but I guess good things come to those who wait.

Ten times this spring and summer (and hopefully fall), I will drive up Stadium Way, dodging ticket sellers and wayward drivers, fight traffic through Elysian Park, make that sharp left onto Academy Road, head up the slope, then make that soft right just as the hill crests, and Dodger Stadium will come into perfect focus.  

It will be everything I can do not to be giddy; to act like the adult that I am, not the kid I want to be; to never become jaded by the experience.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

PLAY BALL!!

A Tale of Two Free Agents    

Last year I wrote about two players who had made difficult contract decisions.  While it seemed relatively easy to assess those decisions at the time, now, with the benefit of hindsight, we can look at those decisions with a little more clarity and see which player made the right (or wrong) call.

Let’s start with the easy one: Dexter Fowler.  As you may recall, after the 2015 season, the Cubs made Fowler a $15.8M Qualifying Offer (“QO”).  He, of course turned that down, and then sat around unemployed until after pitchers and catchers reported for Spring Training.  However, because fortune favors the brave, before position players reported, the Orioles offered Fowler a 3/$33M deal to play right field.  With just a single phone call, Fowler had doubled his guaranteed money.

But before the phone line could go dead, Fowler reversed course and signed a 1-year/$8M deal to remain the Cubs’ center fielder.  The deal included a $5M buy-out.  Fowler could have taken the easy route, signed the QO, and made $15.8 million with the Cubs.  Instead, he tested the market, and ended up taking a $2.8M hit.  That is money he can never get back.

As we all know, Fowler led off, played great defense, and helped the Cubbies win their first World Series in over a century.  And then, flush with his playoff money (~$365K), and his $5M buy-out check, Fowler signed a 5/$82.5M deal with the rival Cardinals.

Obviously, rejecting the 3/$33M deal from Baltimore made perfect sense (especially in hindsight), but rejecting the original QO still doesn’t make any.  But all’s well that ends well:  Fowler has a ring and will make more than $95M over a 6-year period.

Now the trickier one: the curious case of Ian Desmond.  After the 2013 season, Desmond turned down a 7/$107M offer from the Nationals.  Instead, he signed a 2/$17.5M deal to keep his options open after 2015.  He then turned down the Nats’ QO ($15.8M) for 2016, and found himself unemployed.  The Rangers threw him a lifeline and signed him to play center field for $8M.  If you are counting at home, at this point Desmond had cost himself $20M in actual dollars, and $61M in additional guaranteed money.  Ouch!

In 2016, Desmond had a great first half (15/55/.322/.375/.524), and seemed to be positioning himself for a big contract.  But then, in the second half, his production cratered (7/31/.237/.283/.347); the new CBA changed the way teams view long-term deals; and Desmond turned down the Rangers’ QO, thus any team that signed him would forfeit a first-round draft pick.  The pickings were again looking slim for Desmond, and he seemed to have lost both leverage and money.

But, because fortune hath many roads, the Rockies came to the rescue.  For reasons that are still inexplicable to the baseball cognoscenti, the Rockies gave up their first-round pick to sign Desmond to a 5/$70M deal to play first base (a position he has never played).

Assuming that money is the only thing that matters, Desmond may come out okay (but not great) in all this.  Had he just signed on the dotted line after 2013, Desmond would have been the Nationals shortstop for seven years and pocketed $107M.  As it stands, he had to move cities twice, leagues twice, positions twice, now plays for an also-ran in a loaded division, and will play an additional season for $11.5M less in total money.  Hubris or simply bad decision-making cost Desmond at least $11.5M, and probably closer to $25M (assuming a $14M deal for the 2021 season after the long-term Nationals deal expired).

Patience isn’t always a virtue, and good things don’t always come to those who wait.  Dexter Fowler and his reps made smart, long-term, and thoughtful decisions about his career, and it paid off handsomely.  Ian Desmond, on the other hand, seemed to make disjointed, short-sited, and capricious decisions, and will pay in the long run.

But hell, they both still play baseball for a living, so don’t feel to bad for them.

PLAY BALL!

Competitive Balance Tax Complicates Teams’ Decisions

Last season, Clayton Kershaw earned approximately $34.5 million.  On June 30^th, the Dodgers placed him on the 15-day disabled list, and on August 3^rd, Kershaw was moved to the 60-day DL (retroactive to June 30^th).  Nonetheless, Kershaw received a check of approximately $2.65 million every two weeks (MLB players are paid over the course of the regular season).  And each time one of those checks was cut (a total of nearly $11 million while he was sidelined), it counted against the Dodgers’ Competitive Balance Tax threshold (“CBT”), also known as the “Luxury Tax”.

The CBT was first introduced for the 1997 season, and imposed a 34% tax on all monies spent above the average between the fifth and sixth largest team payrolls.  That system lasted until 1999, and then the entire idea went on hiatus until the 2003 season.  Beginning in 2003 – and still going today – a threshold level is set, and teams are charged if they have payroll in excess thereof.  This removed any comparison to other teams.  You spend, you pay.

Which takes us to the current Collective Bargaining Agreement, and the new thresholds.  In 2016, the CBT was set at $189 million, and next season it will rise to $195 million.  But, to truly understand the implications, you need to go inside the numbers.

Throughout the year, we follow a team’s salary obligations, with reporters providing fans with “real time” tallies of what a team is spending, how close they are to the “cap”, and the desire to avoid the Draconian penalties assessed if they go over (more about that below).  But the figures we hear and read about can be deceiving, and they are very difficult to calculate.

Each November, a team of really smart people in the Commissioner’s office in New York tabulates each team’s prior season’s salaries.  In theory, it is easy math.  In theory.  Here are a few rules:

1. If a player has a multi-year deal, actual salary doesn’t matter – Average Annual Value (“AAV”) does. Even though Kershaw got paid $34.5 million, his AAV is only $30.7 million, so that is what counted against the CBT.  In contrast, Giancarlo Stanton earned only $9 million last season, but his 13-year/$325 million contract has a $25 million AAV, which is what applied against the Marlins’ CBT.
2. If a player goes on the DL and needs to be replaced (as the Dodgers did with Kershaw and the Marlins did with Stanton), they get no dispensation. The cost of any additional player is also applied against the CBT.  If a team makes a trade, add the new salary.  If they bring a guy up from AAA and need to give him a pro-rated minimum salary, that amount counts.  Even if the team has an insurance policy on the player and receives reimbursement, the AAV still counts against the CBT.
3. When a team picks up a player option, the actual salary paid counts against the CBT.
4. All players on the 40-man roster are calculated in the CBT. Of course, the longer a player remains in the Minors, under the Minor League pay scale, the better for the team.  But, as stated above, once that player is promoted and gets a minimum salary ($507,500 in 2016), the numbers need to be re-jiggered to accurately calculate the CBT amounts.
5. Any mid-season acquisitions, including cash considerations moved amongst teams, are calculated in the CBT.
6. When a player has certain incentives, performance bonuses, or awards rewards built into his deal, those, too, count against the CBT. So, the team must plan ahead for a player having a great season.  While the Nationals were happy that Max Scherzer won the Cy Young Award last season, it cost them an additional $500,000 bonus, and an additional $500,000 hit to their CBT.  Hopefully they planned ahead.
7. But wait, there’s more. Each team has an annual bill for player benefits, health care, and the like.  That comes to approximately $13 million per team per season.  We never hear about this, which means that last season’s $189 million cap only offered about $176 million to spend.  Those costs must be factored in as well.

When the MLB accountants and the team accountants exchange books, their numbers often vary.  This is especially true for teams not accustomed to playing in the tall weeds.  For instance, the Dodgers have at least four members of their staff assigned to salary cap issues – which makes sense as they deal with the CBT every season.  A team like the Athletics or the Rays may not have anyone assigned to this task, as doing so would be akin to being having someone assigned to review Curt Schilling’s liberal Tweets.

So why is the CBT so important?  Here is why, and it might help explain some of the (non)moves made by teams (such as the Red Sox) this off-season:

Next season’s CBT threshold is $195 million (about $182 million in salaries, but let’s not get too wonky).  Under the new CBA, the first season a team goes over the CBT, they are charged an assessment of 20% of the overage, the second time, 30%, and each time thereafter, 50%.  The analysis cannot stop there.

If a team is over by between $20-$40 million (i.e., by spending $215-$235 million next season), there is an additional 12% surcharge on the excess amounts.  But, and this is the big “but”, when a team drops below the CBT threshold, they reset for future seasons.

Let’s take a look at the Red Sox, who were over the CBT last season.  Let’s assume that once they set their 40-man, finish their arbitrations, and pay the player benefits, they are right at $195M (which is a reasonable assumption).

Now, many fans in the greater New England area were pushing the Red Sox to sign Edwin Encarnacion.  And let’s assume the Red Sox could have closed the same deal as the Indians (3/$60 million).  In 2017, Boston would be in its second season over the CBT, suffering a 30% tax (i.e., 30% of $20 million = $6M); in 2018 they would be in their third year, thus a 50%  tax (the CBT goes up to $197 million, so only a $9 million hit (50% of $18 million over); and in 2019 they would also be assessed 50% (the CBT goes up to $206 million, so only a $4.5 million tax (50% of $9 million over).  Assuming the Red Sox make no other deals that would push them into the surcharge, a $60 million deal for Encarnacion would actually cost the BoSox $79.5 million.

And, by doing so, they would severely limit their room to maneuver at the trade deadline and/or if they suffer any injuries.  Many fans may still quibble with the Red Sox’ parsimoniousness, but at least there is a valid, long-term business reason why not to make that deal.

The CBT is complicated and ever-shifting.  Teams have to be wary from the first day of the Hot Stove, until their final call-ups in September, all the way through Awards Season.  One slip up can cost millions of dollars and have implications for multiple seasons.

So, the next time you hear Jason Heyman or Ken Rosenthal or Brian Cashman or Andrew Friedman wax eloquent about the Luxury Tax and its effect on teams, you will have a better understanding of what they mean, why it’s important, and how poor these teams really are.

Enough about contracts…

PLAY BALL!!

New MLB CBA Over-Complicates Qualifying Offers

Last year I wrote about the Qualifying Offer (“QO”) rule, and how it affected player mobility.  And just when you thought you had a handle on how it worked, the owners and players went ahead and renegotiated the CBA.  In the process, they bolloxed up the QO in a way that hardly anyone can comprehend.  However, if you are frequent reader, you probably enjoy this stuff as much as I, and have the patience and curiosity to know what is, and will be, for the next five years.  Here goes:

A bit of history.  Under the old CBA, if a team made a QO to a free agent player (the amount of the QO is predicated on the average of the top 125 salaries from the previous year; for 2017, the amount is $17.2M), that player had seven days to accept and sign a one-year deal; or reject, and become an unrestricted free agent.  The term “unrestricted”, however, was a misnomer, because any team acquiring that player had to forfeit its first round draft pick the following season (the only exception being teams with picks 1-10; they had to relinquish a second-rounder); and the offering team was compensated with a so-called “sandwich pick”, which is between the first and second rounds.

One more thing: the QO draft pick penalty was only applicable to players who played the entire season for their prior team (if you were traded mid-season, or joined the team after the amateur draft, an acquiring team did not face the penalty). Got it?

Well, if Occam’s Razor applies in most circumstances, its bizarro brother applies to MLB. Here is the system that will apply until 2021:

For starters, the owners and players split the world into three sets of teams: (1) those over the luxury-tax threshold (i.e., teams whose payroll exceeded $189 million last season, $195 million this coming season, escalating in later years); (2) those from the 15 smallest markets that receive revenue sharing money; and (3) teams that don’t fit into either category.  These tiers will be helpful as we move forward.

Here we go: A team offers a player a QO.  That player now has ten (not seven) days to accept or reject.  If he accepts, all is right with the world, he signs with his current team, and there is no confusion.  If he rejects, we must follow the Rube Goldberg contraption put in place to see what happens.

Let’s start with the team losing the free agent (herein, “the Loser”):

If the free agent signs a contract of $50 million or more (regardless of number of years), the Loser gets draft pick compensation.  However, the form of compensation is dependent on the Loser’s good or bad deeds.

• If they are over the luxury-tax threshold, they receive a draft pick at the end of the fourth round.
• If they are one of the small market teams, they receive a pick at the end of the first round.
• If they don’t fit into either category, they receive a pick at the end of the second round.

With me so far?

If the free agent signs for less than $50 million, then:

• If the Loser is over the luxury-tax threshold, they receive a draft pick at the end of the fourth round.
• If they are below the luxury-tax threshold, they receive a pick at the end of the second round.

Now to the team acquiring the free agent (herein, “the Buyer”):

• If the Buyer is over the luxury-tax threshold, they lose their second and fifth highest draft picks, plus $1 million in international pool money.
• If they are one of the 15 small market teams, they lose their third highest draft pick, but no international money.
• If they are none of the above, they lose their second highest draft pick, plus $500,000 in international pool money.

Under the old CBA, if a Buyer already acquired a QO free agent, and thus gave up their first round pick, there wasn’t much pain involved in acquiring a second QO player, as they only had to then forfeit a second-round pick.  Not anymore:

• A Buyer over the luxury-tax threshold acquiring a second QO player now forfeits all of the following: their second, third, fifth, and sixth highest picks, plus $2 million in international bonus pool money.
• If they are one of the 15 small market teams, they lose their third and fourth highest draft pick, but no international bonus pool money.
• If neither, they lose their second and third highest draft picks, plus $1 million in international pool money.

One last rule on which I have been trying to get clarity: no player may be made a QO more than once in his career.  I am not certain if this retroactive (meaning, could Jose Bautista (who was offered a QO by Toronto) sign a one-year deal and get a QO next year, or is the new CBA retroactive, and he is protected forevermore?  More to come on that.

There you have it.  Does everyone understand?  Are the implications to each team perfectly clear?  Great!

Next time we can deal with the International Bonus Pool rules…

PLAY BALL!!

Under Armour to Mar MLB Jerseys

It started innocuously enough, with a sign on the outfield wall. And soon there were three or four. Before you knew it, there was advertising behind home plate, rotating inning by inning.

 

Some people loved the throwback nature of the signage — it reminded them of Ebbetts Field (with its Schaeffer beer ad) or the Polo Grounds (with its Chesterfield cigarette ad) — harkening back to days when ballparks weren’t multi-use and had incredible character.

Then, 1992, we woke up to find the MLB logo on the back of our big-leaguers’ caps. No matter, it represented the game that we love, and it was a small logo near the base of the neck.

A couple of years ago that same logo made its way to the back belt loop of MLB pants. As an aside, you always knew when a player replaced his “gamers” with an old pair, as the logo was noticeably absent.

It took more than twenty years, but creep continued. Beginning with last season’s playoffs, much to the chagrin on Phil Hecken and Paul Lukas, New Era placed their logo right there on the temple. Which begs the question: Is no place sacred?

Since the snowball had already started rolling, the powers-that-be decided to simply get out of the way. Which led to the announcement made at this week’s Winter Meetings that will forever alter the sartorial arc of Major League uniforms. Beginning in 2020, the front of Big League jerseys will be desecrated with advertising.

For years we have discussed the blurred lines between amateurs and professionals. In that context, we normally discuss money — money paid (or not) to athletes. But one way the lines are not blurry at all is in licensing. Whether you work for Boston College or the Boston Red Sox, whether you draw a check from San Diego State or the San Diego Padres, you are looking to maximize licensing revenue. And, as such, you now make your uniforms, well, uniform.

Starting in 2020, MLB uniforms will look no different than college uniforms. And that isn’t just a shame, it is downright sad. There are few pieces of iconography in our world left unperturbed by commercialization and advertising. To be clear, I am not a “get off my lawn” guy, and have been perfectly okay with the inundation of advertising in ballparks across the country (although I could do without the ads on the foul pole), but do we really need to mar the front of a baseball jersey?

Once Under Armour begins outfitting Major League teams (including base layers and outerwear), their logo will be front and (off) center, on the right chest of every Big Leaguer.

We have known for some time that UA won the licensing right to MLB uniforms (Majestic has been providing uniforms since 2005). But it wasn’t until the current meetings in Maryland (UA’s home state) that we learned where that logo would reside. According to MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred, having the logo on the front of the uniform rather than the sleeve more than doubled the license fee. While we don’t know the actual deal terms (they have yet to be disclosed), we can affirmatively state that there is a price tag on the integrity of the game.

For over 100 years fans have gone to the Bronx to see Yankee pinstripes. Beginning in 2020, their favorite players will wear a version of the jersey shown at the top of this article.

The Braves have had some version of tomahawk on their jerseys since 1945. This is what that will look like in 2020:

 

The Giants (both in New York and in San Francisco) had their name on at least one of their uniforms since 1947. Starting in 2020, they will look like this:

Baseball has been criticized in many circles for being anachronistic, being too tied to its past. There is consternation that basketball and football are better at appealing to a new generation of fans. That, no doubt, was the impetus for this deal. Being affiliated with Bryce Harper, Steph Curry, Cam Newton, and Jordan Spieth will help attract a younger audience. But, do they have to sully the Major League uniform?

Because what is depicted above are just a guess, I remain optimistic. I truly hope that Under Armour has the modesty and humility, and MLB has the integrity and humanity, to make it a raised logo that appears in the same colorway as the uniform. That would still give UA prominent real estate without adversely affecting (too much) the team logos that have been in place — unscathed — for generations.

PLAY BALL!!

THE DEBATE IS OVER

Coke vs. Pepsi.  Hertz vs. Avis.  Budweiser vs. Coors.  Mounds vs. Almond Joy.  The debates can go on and on.

But, for the love of all things holy, can we please put a definitive end to the Mike Trout vs. Bryce Harper debate?  This race is so one-sided, Trout is doing his best Usain Bolt impression and looking over his shoulder as he approaches the finish line.

When Harper, coming off his 2015 MVP season, started the 2016 campaign by hitting nine homers in his first 23 games, the baseball world was tripping over itself to determine the value of his first free-agent contract after the 2018 season.  $500 million was being thrown around – as a bargain.  Forget market forces and quality of play, Bryce was making baseball fun again, and he was – from the pundits’ perspective – the best player in the game, worth
every penny.

It is just so annoying when the facts don’t match the narrative.

During that same period at the beginning of the season, little ol’ Mike Trout hit .291, with five homers and 13 RBI, with a .909 OPS.  Not too shabby.  And yet, the man couldn’t get arrested.

Maybe we have just come to expect that from Trout.  Maybe it was because Trout already signed a big contract – 6/$144.5 million – that takes him through the 2020 season.  Maybe it was because Harper loves the spotlight and sought it out at every turn.  I am not sure the how or why.  I just know Harper was king, and Trout was barely a prince.

And then the Nationals went to Chicago.  Coming off a 2-4 with a dinger at Kansas City, the Harper party was in full swing.  But Joe Maddon made a conscious choice not to let Harper beat the Cubs.  Over four games, Harper came to the plate 19 times, got one hit, and walked 13 times (including four times intentionally, and an incredible six times in a 13-inning game).  And that, my friends, was that.

After that series, Harper hit .237 with 14 HRs and 59 RBI.  He ended the season hitting .243 with 24/86, and a .814 OPS.  For that, Harper was paid $5 million – not much by today’s standards, but I’m not sure Ted Lerner feels like he got his money’s worth.

All the while, Mike Trout trotted out to centerfield, playing for a team out of contention from the Opening Day flyover, with an aging Albert Pujols hitting behind him, and no other protection in the lineup.  And yet, he put up – in a word – ridiculous numbers.  But, again, this is nothing out of the ordinary.  He is a metronome and we have come to expect his greatness.  For $15 million, the Angels got the MVP (again).  But there is more to it than that.

Trout never dogs it; rarely argues with umpires; doesn’t get choked by teammates; and doesn’t invite, encourage, or welcome controversy.

Trout is just a ballplayer, and the best one on the planet.  And he has been since his first full season.

Still not convinced, take a look at this comparison:

2012	HARPER	TROUT
BA	.270	.326
SLUG	.477	.564
OPS	.817	.963
HR	22	30
RBI	59	83
Awards	All-Star/ROY	(All-Star/ROY/2nd in MVP)

 

2013	HARPER	TROUT
BA	.274	.323
SLUG	.486	.557
OPS	.854	.988
HR	20	27
RBI	58	97
Awards	All-Star	All-Star/2nd in MVP

 

2014	HARPER	TROUT
BA	.273	.287
SLUG	.423	.561
OPS	.768	.939
HR	13	36
RBI	32	111
Awards	All-Star	All-Star/MVP

 

2015	HARPER	TROUT
BA	.330	.299
SLUG	.649	.590
OPS	1.109	.991
HR	42	41
RBI	99	90
Awards	All-Star/MVP	All-Star/2nd in MVP

 

2016	HARPER	TROUT
BA	.243	.315
SLUG	.441	.550
OPS	.814	.991
HR	24	29
RBI	86	100
Awards	All-Star	All-Star/MVP

 

There are two interesting tidbits buried in the above stats:

(1) Trout is the first player in the history of the game to either win the MVP or be the runner-up in each of his first five seasons; and

(2) Even in Harper’s MVP season, he still only had one homerun and nine more RBI than Trout (if you are into those things).  If you are new school, Harper had a 9.9 WAR in his MVP season; Trout had an 8.9 that year.  In fact, Trout’s lowest season WAR is 8.6, and in that season he just won Rookie of the Year and was second in the MVP voting.

By comparison, with the exception of his MVP season, Harper has never had a WAR above 5.1.  Huh?  How is that possible?  How can the guy everyone said would be the first half a billion dollar player have WAR seasons of 3.7 (2013), 1.0 (2014), and 1.6 (2016) on his resume.  Why are we still discussing, let alone debating, this issue?

Trout will be paid $122 million over the next four years – and he is grossly underpaid.

Bryce Harper is second year arbitration eligible in 2017; according to MLB Trade Rumors, he will command roughly $10 million – and if history is any guide, he may be overpaid.  Harper’s career average WAR is 4.3, which puts him in league with Dexter Fowler and Addison Russell.  Good ballplayers, but not $500 players.

No one disputes Harper is a good player who may, one day, be a great player.  But he ain’t no Mike Trout.

In fact, assuming Mike Trout doesn’t get any better, and over the next five years he actually regresses by 20% (which not single baseball person anticipates as he is just hitting his prime and is getting better every year), this is what Harper would have to average in each of the next five season just to catch (a 20% worse) Trout at the 10-year mark:

H	HR	RBI	SLG	OPS	WAR
196	35	110	.501	.851	12.16

 

Look at those numbers again. Harper would need to nearly match his MVP levels, and have career highs in hits and RBI every year for five straight years, and would need to average a 12.16 WAR just to match a 20% regressing Mike Trout.

One last piece of context, in case the above isn’t obvious. Harper would need to have the 5th best single-season WAR (just behind 1967 Carl Yastrzemski and 1927 Babe Ruth) every year for five straight years, to catch Trout on a 20% downswing.

The defense rests.

PLAY BALL!!

 

November 9 – The Day After

Ed. Note: While this piece was inspired by the events of November 8, 2016, the words and phrases in italics below were taken from Selected Poems: 1965-1975 by Margaret Atwood.

I refuse to look in the mirror, as I know what will stare back is sorrow and sadness.  I cannot allow my kids to see that look; that look that tells them, immediately, instinctively, indisputably, that something is wrong.

It is dangerous to read newspapers.  They are filled with so much negative information, so many opinion pieces about what may come, what may be.  While in some areas, the air is filled with an ether of cheers, not in my house, not in my head.

How did this happen?  Why did it happen?  What will happen next?

This is not order, but the absence of order.  We live in a country where this should not, cannot happen.  This is for banana republics and third world countries where the populace is fooled by con men and flim flam artists.  But not here, not in the grand ol’ U.S. of A.

I wander around my house in the quiet of night.  Whose dream is this?  It must be mine, as it is my footsteps that creak on the hardwood as I descend the stairs, slowly making my way from room to room, checking on my kids, ensuring that no harm befalls them tonight – at least.

Surreal is a word that is bandied about, often improperly.  But tonight it seems only fitting.  This cannot be real.  It is a fever dream.  It is surreal.

I want to climb back into bed and wake up in four years; I want to climb out the window and shout at the moon; I want to climb out of my skin so I don’t have to carry this feeling.  Which is what, exactly? Shock? Horror? Disappointment?  Anger? Frustration? Annoyance?  Fear?  Maybe all of the above.

I am able to get a few hours of restless sleep.  I awake in world I hardly know – a world I don’t want to know.  And yet, here I am.  I cannot help but think that we are all relics of what we have destroyed, and we must now come to terms with a new reality.

After a few more moments of despair, a switch flips.  The sadness has not gone away, not at all.  But my reaction to it is altered.  I begin to think, “was the sky ever that blue?”  Had I got what I wanted, would it have been that different?  Would my life be better in any true, measurable way?

The answers to those questions are now rendered moot, irrelevant to the task ahead.  We must resist.  We must refuse to disappear.  Now, more than ever, we must make ourselves known, and push back against the powers that want to be, but cannot be, without willing acquiescence.  We must circle, confront our opponent.  Let them know we will not be quieted, we will not be defeated.

Some outcomes are immutable, and we should not waste time trying to control matters over which we now have no control.  But we do have the ability to control our reaction.  If we have any agency in this world, it is in our response.  Do we cower and retreat?  Do we stand and deliver?  The measure of a man is how he faces adversity; how he reacts when all is falling apart around him.

And then it happened.  The most aggrieved person – more so than the nearly 60 million others, stood at a lectern and spoke from the heart – a heart that could have been nothing less than broken; a heart that must have been shattered like shards of a glass ceiling; a heart that still beat with selflessness and inspiration for the well-being of others.

She cajoled us to get off the mat and face our demons – both inner and public.  No one ever survives by retreating or giving quarter to the powers that shouldn’t be.  The only way to survive in moments like these is to move forward, remembering the past and the pain, using that as fuel for the future.

We owe this to ourselves, to the greater good, and we owe it to our children.  The Chinese proverb implores us to go straight for the heart of danger, for there you will find safety.  That is our true place.  As people, as citizens, as sentient beings who want, nay, demand, more from ourselves and our society, we must confront our would-be oppressors and let them know that we will not be oppressed; that we will not back down; that we will not fade into darkness or the abyss.

The battle may be long, and it may be difficult, and at times, it may seem hopeless.  But that is the true test.  Do we have the gumption to fight for what we believe?  If we don’t, maybe we don’t truly value those beliefs?

The somber day ends and I am reunited with my kids.  They have smiles on their faces and joy in their hearts.  It was their own ignorance I entered, and I could not be more grateful.  They are too young and too innocent to be required to know the task at hand.  One day they will, and one day they will appreciate what it entailed, and one day they will look back with respect and gratitude that a group of right-minded people were willing to put aside whatever differences they might have for the betterment of all.

History, our history, is not written on a single day, nor even a single year.  History is written over prolonged periods when people – against long odds – create change that is lasting (even if only temporarily so).

None of what I feel is mine, it belongs to 60 million people and the countless millions more who voted against their conscience on a hope and a prayer; it belongs to our collective future; it belongs to our children.

So, with sorrow nearly as great as it has ever been, I resolve to move forward and battle back.  I will not go quietly into that good night.  Too much is at stake; too many people will be affected by our choices, and our responses; too much of our tomorrow is riding on decisions made by those of us feeling pain today.

G.O.A.T. (Game 7 Edition)

Wow!  Just, wow!  How else to describe what we witnessed Wednesday night in Cleveland?

That game had so much, nearly all of which has been written about – wonderfully, poignantly, emotionally, by Buster Olney, Ken Rosenthal, Bob Nightengale, Ben Lindbergh,  Jonah Keri, Rick Telander, Michael Bauman, Jayson Stark, Peter Gammons, and too many more to count.  Hell, 96-year old Roger Angell cracked out the old Selectric to write a short article about the game.

As always, I try to find the nooks and crannies that aren’t being covered by the MSM.  For instance, everyone is discussing Joe Maddon’s use of Aroldis Chapman with a 7-2 lead in the 7^th inning of Game 6, and what effect that had on him in Game 7.

Everyone is writing about Maddon’s decision to pull Kyle Hendricks with two outs in the 5^th inning of Game 7 to bring in Jon Lester for a “dirty” inning.

Everyone is talking about Maddon’s safety squeeze on a 3-2 pitch with a guy at the plate who had already hit a homerun.

Everyone is praising Jason Heyward, fighting through his struggles at the plate to continue to be the best right fielder in baseball, and the consummate leader by calling an impromptu team meeting under the stadium during the rain delay.

But is anyone talking about Terry Francona’s decision to pull a Little League move by bringing in a new right fielder and shift his right fielder to left, in the middle of an inning?  When was the last time you saw that (outside of a double-switch)?  That decision, defense over offense, would prove costly in the bottom of the 10^th.  Haven’t heard much about that.

Winning cures all ills, but can we talk a minute about the disaster that was Javy Baez for the first three innings?  I truly love how he takes a knee to insure he fields ground balls.  But, come on, throwing from said knee?  Sidearm?  How about trying to turn two without the ball.  Memo to Baez, SSK provides you with quality leather – try using it rather than attempting a bare hand catch and throw in one motion.  It looks cool when it works, but when it doesn’t, we get a two-minute replay delay wherein 50 million people repeatedly get to see you look like a hot dog with no mustard.

Is anyone wondering what happened to John Lackey?  With all of the talk about Jon Lester coming out of the bullpen for his first relief appearance in nine years, where was Lackey?  He had three days’ rest (Lester had only two), threw 84 pitches in his last outing (Lester threw 90), and came out of the pen in Game 4 of the 2013 World Series, and Game 2 of 2002 World Series.  He had done this before.

No one is mentioning how silly it is to just give a runner second base.  Brandon Guyer worked a two-out walk in the bottom of the 10^th, bringing the tying run to the plate in the person of Rajai Davis.  Anthony Rizzo played behind Guyer, allowing him to take second without a throw.  Yes, I know his run “didn’t matter” as the Indians were down two.  But…but, three things happened with that seemingly inconsequential defensive indifference: (1) It denied the left-handed throwing Mike Montgomery an opportunity to pick off Guyer; or, at a minimum, keep him close; (2) It denied the slick Cubs infield the ability to go the “short way” on any ball hit into a hole; and (3) It allowed Guyer to make it a one-run game when Davis dropped a single into center field.  How much better would Cubs’ fans have felt being up 8-6, with runners on first and second and Michael Martinez coming to the plate?

Another thing that got overlooked was Dexter Fowler’s poise in not attempting to throw out Guyer at the plate.  Had he done so, which seemed like a possibility based on the trajectory and speed of the hit, Davis would have been standing on second base instead of first; with the tying run now in scoring position.  A lesson for our kids watching at home, note how Fowler understood the circumstances and made the heady play, not the heroic one.  (Said differently, “what do I do if the ball is hit to me?”)

And while we are on the topic of Fowler, it was he who started the game by “cutting the Russian”.  He showed the entire Cubs organization that Corey Kluber was mortal and could be scored upon.  Putting aside all of the reasons that was important, it is incredible to think that Fowler shouldn’t even have been there – he was supposed to be the starting right fielder for the Orioles.  How did the Fox crew not mention this?  Check out what I wrote about this deal back in February.  It looks like Fowler made the right call.

Just a few more . . . I promise.

Everyone is talking about Rajai Davis’ 8^th inning homerun.  That hit had the third highest WPA in the history of the game.  Think about that.  But few are talking about the actual at bat.  Davis went down 1-2, took a ball (99.8 MPH), and then fouled off two 2-strike pitches (98.1, 99.6) before depositing his liner into the lens of the left field camera.

The only thing better than Game 7 dramatics are Game 7 dramatics with two strikes.

And not nearly enough is being made of Albert Almora, Jr. tagging up and going from first to second on Bryant’s flyball in the 10th.   Sitting on the bench for nearly four hours, he had the presence of mind to read the ball, the fielder, the moment, and take an extra 90 feet. That set up the intentional walk of Rizzo, which set up Zobrist’s tie-breaking double. If Almora stays put, who knows what kind of at-bat this guy would have given the Cubs.

  

What I haven’t heard a single person mention is that Kris Bryant slipped on the wet grass as he made the final throw.  I saw it.  I am sure legions of Cubs fans saw it.  I am quite certain that generations of Chicagoans registered it and assumed that the ball was being airmailed over Rizzo’s head, setting up the tying and winning runs in scoring position with Tyler Naquin (looking for redemption) coming to the plate.

Maybe the dramatics of the moment overwhelmed that detail.  Maybe Bryant’s ear-to-ear smile 
as he fielded the ball rendered his ice skates meaningless.  But, for me, let’s just say my heart skipped a beat.

 

And last, and maybe – in light of outcomes – least, how soon we forget that Jason Kipnis’ foul ball with one out in the bottom of the 9^th certainly looked like Aaron Boone, Joe Carter, and Bill Mazeroski all rolled up into one.  Kipnis, the Chicago kid, eventually struck out, so the at bat became a footnote in the “I cannot believe Chapman came back out for the ninth and got a 1-2-3 inning” story.

But, for a nanosecond or two, it seemed like Joe Buck was about to parrot his father with an “I don’t believe what I just saw” call to end a 68-year drought.  Alas, it was not meant to be, and only baseball nerds like me even made note of an ultimately harmless foul ball down the right field line.

So there you go.  I have tens more, but we can save them for coaching clinics and backyard BBQs down the road.

The greatest Game 7 of all time.  The only downside: it is 150 days until we hear . . .

PLAY BALL!!

THERE COULD BE NO OTHER WAY

On June 19th of this year, on the morning of Game 7 of the NBA Finals, I wrote this. In the article – if you haven’t read it – I predicted the Cavaliers would beat the Warriors in Game 7 of the NBA finals to win the NBA Championship. I compared the 2016 Cavs with the 2004 Red Sox, and explained that in order to “Exorcise Demons”, they had to take the toughest road. In order to quench a multi-generational drought, a team needs to overcome not just its opponent, but the longest of odds.

The ’04 Red Sox had to go down 0-3 to the hated Yankees to storm back, win four in a row to win the pennant, and then sweep the Cardinals to bring home their first World Series Championship in 86 years. The ’16 Cavaliers had to go down 1-3 to the record-setting, ridiculous shooting, reigning world champs, just to win three in a row to bring the first title (of any kind) to Cleveland in 52 years.

I hope, by now, you see where I am going. The Chicago Cubs entered this season the prohibitive favorites to win the World Series (Vegas had them at 5/1). They then ran away with their division, won 103 games, and made the prognosticators look like geniuses. They dispatched the Giants in four games, and the Dodgers in six, setting up our current World Series showdown.

The Cubs did face some adversity this season: They lost one of their best hitters (never mind he didn’t have a defensive position) in their third game; they rallied to overcome a one game deficit back on April 8th; and they lost a whole five in a row in July, reducing their NL Central lead to 6.5 games. You might say that 2016 was pretty much smooth sailing for Lovables…until October.

So when the Giants won Game 3 of the NLDS in 13 innings, and had Madison Bumgarner lined up for Game 5, the folks back on Clark and Addison were starting to get the stench of Billy goat.

When the Dodgers won Games 2 and 3 of the NLCS, and had Clayton Kershaw lined up for Game 6, the diehards sitting on stools at Harry Caray’s and The Cubby Bear were gripping their Old Styles a little tighter.

And when the Indians won Games 3 and 4 of the World Series (at Wrigley Field, no less), to put the Cubbies in a backs-against-the-wall, 1-3 hole, you could feel the tension through the television, two times zones away. Fans who had been primed to sing “Go Cubs Go” were resigned to two consecutive slow walks down the concourse, out the gates, through Wrigleyville, and up to the “L” for long, late, and painful rides home.

This is how it had to happen.

A sweep? Win in it five in front of 41,000 delirious Cubs fans? Take it in six to the dismay of the denizens of Believeland? No. That would have been too easy, too trite, too according to plan.

Like Andy Dufresne, the Cubs will have to crawl through 500 yards of shit – through Kluber, Bauer, Tomlin, Kluber (again), Shaw, and Miller – to come out clean on the other side. I tell my kids, nothing worth having comes easy. The first championship in 108 years is  worth having. The Cubs had to have obstacles, they had to have roadblocks, and impediments, and nearly the longest odds possible, to get to the promised land.  There could be no other way.

Theo Epstein designed it this way. Joe Maddon managed it this way. The players had no choice but to play it this way. Because the Baseball Gods fated it this way.

So I’m sorry, Cleveland, you got one title this year. Two would have been a bridge over the Cuyahoga too far. It is the Cubbies’ time.

Or, Kluber throws another gem; joins the likes of Jack Morris and Curt Schilling; and becomes the World Series MVP with his third win. Maybe there is a Party at Napoli’s and he launches one into the Ohio night. Maybe the Northbrook Kid actually hits for the cycle (he came damn close in Game 6) to lead the Tribe. Maybe Francisco Lindor put the icing on his coming out party cake, gets three more hits, and smiles the Indians to the title.

What the hell do I know? I do know that we get baseball for another day.  Two teams with a combined 176 seasons of futility have nine innings to exorcise their demons.

Is there anything better in sports than a Game 7?  Twenty hours until we hear…

PLAY BALL!!

SWEET SOUNDS

A baby’s coo into her mother’s ear. Children’s laughter. Waves crashing on a pristine beach. Whitney Houston owning the National Anthem. The question is, what is the sweetest sound in the world?

I cannot say, with any certainty, the “sweetest”, but what I heard bellowing from a 102-year old ballpark on Saturday night comes pretty damn close.  

Many teams have victory songs – some are horrendous, and actually invite you to root against the home team for fear of being subjected to such noise. And some teams have fantastic anthems that stick with you for days.

For instance, I defy anyone not to hum “I love L.A.” as they climb into their car a few minutes after a Dodger victory. When the P.A. blasts Randy Newman upon the third out in the ninth – or, better yet, after a walk-off – there are few more iconic themes.

As a diehard Red Sox fan, I am partial to “Dirty Water”, which rings throughout Fenway Park after every BoSox win. But as great as “Dirty Water” is, it finds itself in direct competition with “Sweet Caroline”, which plays in the eighth inning of every game. The Fenway Faithful really get into that one, and the harmony of “so good, so good, so good” gives you chills the first time you experience it. Truly. The hairs on the back of my neck are at attention as a write this.

But as you go around the league, the Yankees can keep their Sinatra, and the Giants can hang onto their Tony Bennett. The Royals can forget about the Beatles’ “Kansas City”; and the ChiSox fall short with the Blues Brothers’ “Sweet Home Chicago”.  

For my money, for my ears, for my fandom, I am not sure anything can top what you get on the North Side when the Cubbies fly the “W”.

I have been to Wrigley a handful of times, and, remarkably, have always seen the Cubs win (which, before this season, was far from a fait accompli). But, because I am not a denizen of Wrigleyville, and because it is often years between my visits, I always forget the sweet sounds that are about to hit me. And then I am reminded.

America was reminded – or introduced – on Saturday night. When the Cubs recorded the final out of Game 6 of the NLCS, beating Kershaw, the Dodgers, and the entirety of the National League to win their first pennant in 71 years, Wrigley exploded. But it did not explode into riots or idiots rushing the field. No, it exploded into beautiful harmony.

Russell to Baez to Rizzo, and the celebration commenced on the mound. Less than thirty seconds later, it started. Listening to more than 42,000 fans sing “Go Cubs Go” in equal parts shock, adulation, and utter excitement, many with tears streaming down their faces, was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. Yes, that makes me a baseball nerd; and yes, it makes me a sap; and it probably says a dozen other things about me that I wouldn’t want the public to know. But man, that was something.

When the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004 and ended their 86-year drought, they revised the documentary “The Curse of the Bambino” to include footage of the win, the celebration, and the parade. But they also included shots of cemeteries all over Boston where fans left championship gear for their dearly departed; fans who never to got to experience the Red Sox as World Series champs. After too many viewings to count, the documentary still gets me misty.

I thought of those people on Saturday night. The ones who lived through Ernie Banks and Billy Williams; Bull Durham and Ryne Sandberg; Greg Maddux and Mark Grace; Kerry Wood and Mark Prior; Billy Goats and Bartman. I thought of my former father-in-law, who grew up on the North Side. A baseball man whose father used to be a concessionaire at Wrigley Field and befriended a left-handed first baseman some 75 years before his own granddaughter would marry one. I thought about “Jolly Cholly” Charlie Grimm’s mitt that sits encased in glass in my office, and the hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Chicagoans who celebrated – some posthumously – on Saturday night. Those 42,000 fans sang for them, too.

Feeling those fans exhale a few pitches after Carlos Ruiz hit a foul ball nearly into the “Bartman Seat” (9th inning vs. 8th; 5-0 lead vs. 3-0, but still). And then to see those fans dance like no one was watching, and hear them sing like no one was listening. And yet, all across the land, everyone was watching, and everyone was listening.

“Go, Cubs, go! Hey, Chicago, what do you say? The Cubs are gonna win today”.

That went on for what seemed like hours. When droughts end, and curses are reversed, when there is once again joy in Wrigleyville, hearing those fans sing the best victory song in the sport was, simply put, the sweetest of sounds. (Scroll down and check out the dftbalicia11 Instagram post for a sense of what it was like in Chicago Saturday night.)

Postscript: I will leave you with one fun fact that is not getting nearly enough run: There have only been two instances in which a team faced the minimum number of batters in a post-season game. The first was Don Larsen’s Perfect Game in the 1956 World Series. The second was Game 6 of the 2016 NLCS. A pick-off and two double-plays erased the Dodgers’ lone three base runners. Bottom line, no matter what he threw or how much command he had, Kershaw wasn’t beating the Cubs Saturday night.

Onto the World Series. 108 vs. 68.

PLAY BALL!!