Human Interest – Page 12

Baseball is Hard

Baseball is hard. There remains nothing more difficult to do in sports than hit a round ball with a round bat.

Case in point, one Mr. Shaq Thompson. That name may sound familiar to you, as he has played five seasons as a linebacker for the Carolina Panthers. But before Thompson was collecting 356 combined tackles in the NFL, he was a three-sport star in high school – football, track, and baseball.

Shaq was good enough in spikes that the Red Sox drafted him in the 18th round of the 2012 draft. So before heading to Seattle to play football for the University of Washington, Mr. Thompson headed to the Sox’ rookie-level team in the Gulf Coast League. He played in 13 games and had 39 official at bats. He struck out 37 times. You read that correctly. An athlete who was a first-team All-American according to Rivals.com, Parade, and the USA Today, and who was a second-team All-American according to MaxPreps.com and Sports Illustrated; an athlete who was able to run 100 meters in less than 11 seconds and 200 meters in less than 22; an athlete so highly thought of that a storied professional baseball organization drafted him before Alex Bregman (out of high school), Josh Hader, Dansby Swanson (out of high school), Mike Yastrzemski, and Andrew Triggs. And yet, this athlete didn’t put a ball in play until his ninth game; and this against the lowest level of professional competition.

All was not lost: Shaq Thompson did draw eight walks in those 39 games. So when, in his final game, he made solid contact, but was retired on a line drive to right, Thompson ended his professional baseball career. He walked off the diamond and onto the gridiron where he would find a lot of success…and a lot of money (he recently signed a 4/$54M contract extension).

I love the Shaq Thompson story because it says so much about how difficult this game is to play. A 6 foot, 225 pound specimen of an athlete jogs on to the baseball field on top of the world, and walks off humbled, if not defeated. Who can’t relate?

There are many of these stories – athletes who went on to become stars in other sports but could not do so in baseball. Danny Ainge, Tracy McGrady, Tim Tebow, Russell Wilson, and, of course, Michael Jordan. So the next time you catch an old game on the MLB Network and see a player you hadn’t thought about in a long time (like this lineup: Jim Clancy (P), Alan Ashby (C), Jim Presley (1B), Mark Lemke (2B), Ernie Riles (3B), Iván DeJesús (SS), Kal Daniels (LF), Stan Javier (CF), Iván Calderón (RF), Steve Balboni (DH)), know that regardless of your individual recollection, he was an incredible baseball player. For a time, he was one of the best of the best. So even if our memory needs to be jogged from time to time, these guys deserve our reverence. Because, man, baseball is hard.

PLAY BALL!!

Opening Nay

As we all know, today was supposed to be Opening Day. Yes, I capitalized it because for those of us who love baseball more than any other pastime, Opening Day is every bit as sacred – and considerably less profane – than the Super Bowl. No one ever bitches about the “S”uper “B”owl.

All over the airwaves today we were peppered with baseball from years past. MLB did a heck of a job trying to lift our spirits with unforgettable games on the MLB Network, FS1, two of MLB’s YouTube channels, two Facebook feeds, and three different Twitter accounts. You had your choice of Giants v. Dodgers, four different Home Run Derby competitions, classic World Series games, no-hitters, perfectos, and even the A’s 20th straight win. It was all there, and it was nothing more than a cupcake for the kid whose birthday party was otherwise ruined.

In 1998, Bart Giamatti first read “The Green Fields of the Mind.” It, like the man himself, is a national treasure. The poem starts with the line: “It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart.” And with everything going on in the world today – like right now, today, tonight – baseball in many ways should be the furthest thing from our collective minds. But it is not. It is not because today is supposed to be Opening Day – a day of renewal, a day of hope. So, it not being here today – today of all days, when the U.S. death toll from this nasty pandemic nears 1,200 – like Bart said, breaks your heart. Under the current circumstances, what could be better to take our minds off the news, allow us to literally and figuratively change the channel to something less grim, than baseball.

The next line of the poem reads: “The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again…”

But, this year, we cannot be certain there is any truth to that statement. Many writers, from Ken Rosenthal to Jayson Stark to Jeff Passan have written extensively on when this season may begin, but Stark owned it with a simple “we have no idea.” So Giamatti may end up being wrong this year, it may not begin in spring – hell, it may not begin at all.

Next up is “You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time…”

Man do we need something to buffer the passage of time right now. We live in a moment where days roll into each other, with kids and partners home – locked in our homes – with no legal form of escape. No mental or theoretical escape from the body count and lack of testing and the lies – so many lies – and the worry when you wake at 3am with a dry throat wondering “is it my turn?”. The old adage is you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. But we all knew. We love baseball, we revere it. We treat it with respect; we have bought the hats and the jerseys and the tickets. More than that, we have bought in. We have bought in to the myth; we have bought in to the idea that the game could change our day, our week, and sometimes even our year (looking at you, 2004 and 2016).

And now it is gone. And who the hell knows for how long.

For those of us living in Los Angeles, we were looking forward to the redeveloped Dodger Stadium and the All-Star Game. Now only one of those is assured.

For those of you in New York, you had a chance (not a great one, especially after Thor went down) for a Subway Series. The Yankees – if healthy – look unbeatable this year. And now you just have sickness, and death, and fear. But there is another saying that I have been repeating to my kids a lot these past few weeks: “This too shall pass.”

So maybe, if the baseball (and other) gods are willing to smile down upon all of us, we will soon have pinstripes on the field and not just on face masks.

I woke up today and wanted to find joy. I truly did. But as I sat in my home office and Zoomed with my colleagues, I couldn’t do it. I avoided all manner of old baseball except this.

There was no joy in Mudville today. Damn Casey never got to bat.

I hope you all are safe, a safe distance from others, and trying to find some pleasure in being with your families for dinner every night. And, who knows, maybe we will build enough family-time equity to enjoy a few extra ballgames this summer without feeling an ounce of guilt. Read as one man’s search for any potential silver lining.

Here’s to hoping that someday soon we will hear the words:

PLAY BALL!!

Anatomy of an Apology

About ten days ago I was on the phone with a friend when I got an alert on my computer that Carlos Beltrán and the Mets had agreed to part ways. One can parse that statement any way they want, but there is simply no denying that Beltrán was fired…before he managed a single game for the club. How very “Mets”.

My friend was devastated. It turns out that his son is a massive Carlos Beltrán fan; he even has a Beltrán bat framed in his bedroom. He didn’t know what to tell his son, how to break the news.

We were on the phone for a bit – long enough for Beltrán’s statement to be issued. I quickly read it and reported back that this was an easy one. Based on Beltrán’s own words, you can easily explain to your child that actions have consequences, that one must own their mistakes, apologize for their behavior, and vow to be better. In short, Beltrán’s statement covered all the bases. As poor as his decision to cheat, was how great his expression of regret.

“Over my 20 years in the game, I’ve always taken pride in being a leader and doing things the right way, and in this situation, I failed. As a veteran player on the team I should’ve recognized the severity of the issue and truly regret the actions that were taken. I am a man of faith and integrity and what took place did not demonstrate those characteristics that are so very important to me and my family.

“I’m very sorry. It’s not who I am as a father, a husband, a teammate and as an educator. The Mets organization and I mutually agreed to part ways, moving forward for the greater good with no further distractions. I hope that at some point in time, I’ll have the opportunity to return to this game that I love so much.”

Beltrán’s apology was all the more shocking (and heartening) because we have not seen that level of self-awareness in the recent past. Time and again athletes and executives do wrong, and time and again they fail to show the proper contrition. But not Beltrán. He may have lost his right to manage (for now), but he hasn’t lost his moral authority. This is an “A+” example of a proper apology; it is a confession we can share with our kids as a learning tool; and a model that others caught in the crosshairs would be wise to follow.

Now, contrast Beltrán’s words with the various and sundry apologies and non-apologies we have heard in the past few months:

Here is Jeff Luhnow, the suspended and now-fired GM of the Astros (condensed for brevity, the emphases are mine):

“I accept responsibility for rules violations that occurred on my watch…I apologize to the Astros organization, Astros fans and the Houston community for the shame and embarrassment this has caused…

“I am not a cheater. Anybody who has worked closely with me during my 32-year career inside and outside baseball can attest to my integrity…I did not know rules were being broken…I did not personally direct, oversee or engage in any misconduct: The sign-stealing initiative was not planned or directed by baseball management; the trash-can banging was driven and executed by players, and the video decoding of signs originated and was executed by lower-level employees working with the bench coach. I am deeply upset that I wasn’t informed of any misconduct because I would have stopped it…”

The statement started well, with Luhnow owning the issue. But it quickly devolved into a “not my fault” recitation. This reeks of a “I am only apologizing because it is the *right* thing to do, but not because I am truly sorry” proclamation. He had the memo from the Commissioner; he spent time in the clubhouse and in the dugout. He knew or should have known what was happening over the course of two seasons. In this case, less would have been more. He could and should have ended the statement at “integrity,” and he would have received an “A”. As it stands, this is a “C+” at best.

AJ Hinch, the suspended and now-fired manager said the following (again, condensed with my emphasis):

“As a leader and Major League Manager, it is my responsibility to lead players and staff with integrity that represents the game in the best possible way. While the evidence consistently showed I didn’t participate in the sign stealing practices, I failed to stop them and I am deeply sorry.

“I apologize to Mr. Crane for all negative reflections this may have had on him and the Astros organization. To the fans, thank you for your continued support through this challenging time – and for this team. I apologize to all of you for our mistakes but I’m confident we will learn from it – and I personally commit to work tireless to ensure I do.”

This one is a little tricky in that Hinch was punished for essentially turning a blind eye to his coach’s and his team’s behavior. He certainly seemed to own his mistake, but he cannot help but add a little “but it wasn’t me” in there, which does take away a smidge of the repentance. Throughout the various Astros scandals, Hinch has been a voice of reason and remorse, so it was just a bummer that in trying to take the fall, he also had to try to clear his name. That said, this is still an “A-”.

Speaking of other Astros scandals, we all remember the case of Brandon Taubman. When he finally had to admit his wrongdoing, this is what he offered:

“This past Saturday, during our clubhouse celebration, I used inappropriate language for which I am deeply sorry and embarrassed. In retrospect, I realized that my comments were unprofessional and inappropriate. My overexuberance in support of a player has been misinterpreted as a demonstration of a regressive attitude about an important social issue. Those that know me know that I am a progressive and charitable member of the community, and a loving and committed husband and father. I hope that those who do not know me understand that the Sports Illustrated article does not reflect who I am or my values. I am sorry if anyone was offended by my actions.”

Did he really end this with the “I am sorry if anyone was offended by my actions” bromide? He knows people were offended. He said it to offend. Criminal law has the concept of mens rea (the intention or knowledge of wrongdoing). By all accounts, Taubman had the sufficient mens rea to be guilty, so his many-days-too-late non-apology simply doesn’t cut it. Only if you get points for trying will he earn a “D-”.

In the days after the Taubman clubhouse incident, not only did the Astros not apologize to the women affected, they attempted to obfuscate and impugn the reputation of a well-respected journalist. When the story became too large and too well known to slip under the champagne-soaked rug, after a five-day delay, Astros owner Jim Crane said the following:

“On behalf of the entire Astros organization, I want to personally apologize for the statement we issued on Monday October 21^st. We were wrong and I am sorry that we initially questioned your professionalism. We retract that statement, and I assure you that the Houston Astros will learn from this experience.”

Rare is the captain of industry who can utter the word “wrong,” so Crane gets kudos for doing so. But even what appears to be a full-throated and well-meaning apology falls short. Crane, while acknowledging his organization questioned writer Stephanie Apstein’s professionalism, never acknowledges that what she wrote, and what the team denied for nearly a week, was absolutely correct. That would have gone a long way toward healing the wounds inflicted by the Astros’ callous indifference to the facts. Crane is a billionaire; he is a leader in at least three major business fields (energy, shipping, professional sports); the bar for him is considerably higher. So his statement gets a “B-”.

Last week, the Astros held their annual FanFest, and reporters, as they are wont to do, asked Jose Altuve and Alex Bregman about the sign-stealing scandal.

Altuve didn’t try to apologize. His simply said: “I think the time to comment about that will come. It’s a little too early for me.” Maybe that is genuine. Maybe the impact of the entire saga has been too much for him to process in such a short space of time. Maybe he just isn’t ready to discuss the topic, and will do so when the team gets to Spring Training next month. Personally, I find it weak and a bit cowardly, but it is too soon to tell. I give this an incomplete, with his ultimate apology grade TBD.

But Bregman is a whole other story. He didn’t even bother. He showed disdain for the entire process. On at least six different occasions, in response to various forms of questions, Bregman said the following: “The commissioner made his report, made his decision, the Astros made their decision, and no further comment on it.”

Like an automaton, Bregman could not even conjure an original thought. He would not address the press, the fans, or the 725 non-Astro MLB players (many of) whom feel like he and his teammates cheated their way to two pennants and one World Series title. This is an “F”.

A fish rots from the head down. Jim Crane set the tone for this club with his lies and then delayed response to the Taubman incident. Jeff Luhnow learned from his boss, as did AJ Hinch, and each tried to give the appearance of contrition while attempting to salvage his own reputation by throwing trusted colleagues under the team bus. So it is not shocking that players raised in the organization chose not to confront the issue with at least some level of regret; without at least giving lip service to the damage they have wrought.

I have often wondered who is providing advice to these athletes before they get in front of a microphone so woefully unprepared. And then I got an answer. In an interview withThe Athletic’s Ken Rosenthal, uber-agent Scott Boras offered us the following pablum (among many other nonsensical thoughts):

“But to suggest players make a team apology … the reality of it is that the apology from the people who had notice, not from the people who didn’t have notice. And the people who are responsible for providing notice. That’s who the apology should come from.”

Boras had the temerity to state that if the players knew what they were doing was wrong, they would have stopped. Despite the fact that the players hid the monitors, and despite the fact that the Commissioner’s Report states that there was “panic” in the Astros’ dugout when White Sox pitcher Danny Farquhar seemed to be on to the scheme, Boras wants us to believe that all participating players thought this entire arrangement was on the up-and-up, just because a bench coach was in on the caper. He doesn’t really believe we are that gullible, does he?

Boras loves an analogy, and he tried this one out: A man driving 55 in a 35 MPH zone only knows he is speeding if the law is clearly posted. Fair enough…on Route 66. The argument holds considerably less water if that man is driving through your local neighborhood. These guys have been playing baseball their whole lives; they are grown-ass men; they know right from wrong. And they chose wrong to achieve a competitive advantage. Trying to blame this on a lack of signage in the clubhouse is at best, hogwash, and at worst, utter and complete bullshit.

But, keeping with Boras’ theme, the Astros players didn’t even need to formally apologize (though Dallas Keuchel chose to do so). I am no crisis counselor, but it seems they really would have helped their cause if, when confronted by intrepid reporters, they said something like this:

“We regret that the Commissioner’s Report has cast a pall over our team and our organization.

“Our number one goal is to restore the faith and earn back the trust that our fans and the MLB community preciously had in us. We are going to work hard every day to bring a championship back to Houston and prove to the world we are not who was portrayed in that report.

“Whoever our next manager is, we will make him, our fans, and especially the kids who look up to us, proud of the Houston Astros.”

This doesn’t seem that hard. Bill Plaschke wrote another article claiming that the Astros lack of apology is an affront to the Dodgers. I respectfully disagree. It is an affront to the entire game, from within and without. This will not just go away – as Astros players will learn in each park they visit this season – just by burying their collective heads in the sand. This mark – this asterisk – will linger until fans and players alike feel justice has been done and/or proper remorse has been shown.

“I’m sorry” are two of the hardest and two of the most productive words in the English language. Maybe they can learn them deep in the heart of Texas.

PLAY BALL!!

Punishment Almost Fits the Crime

The dominoes have fallen – well most of them, anyway.

Around Thanksgiving I wrote my initial opus regarding the Astros’ cheating scandal. Little did I know that the cancer would spread eastward to New England, and right into the dugout of my beloved Red Sox. But here we are. MLB is still investigating the BoSox, and is withholding judgment until that is complete. In the meantime, let’s revisit what I wrote, and the questions I asked, back when this was all theoretical:

“[S]hould MLB suspend Jeff Luhnow for half the season? … To make it really hurt, they could extend this until August 1^st so the Astros would be without Luhnow for the trade deadline?”

I was off by three months, as MLB suspended Luhnow through the 2020 World Series. But not an hour later, he got fired. I’ve got to say, I didn’t see that coming.

“And what about A.J. Hinch? The manager either knew or should have known what was happening just outside his dugout? In the NCAA they call that a lack of institutional control. Should he be suspended for half the season? More?”

Hinch also got a full season suspension. And then he got fired. Again, I didn’t see that coming. But it makes sense – how can owner Jim Crane and the new front office trust a guy who heard the banging, who disliked the cheating so much that he allegedly broke not one but two video monitors, but still did nothing to stop the practice. They call the manager the “field general,” but Hinch acted like a patsy.

“What about Alex Cora? He knew – or should have known. Regardless of the fact that he is now the Red Sox manager, he too should face discipline.”

When I wrote those words, I had no idea that the investigation was going to expand to include the 2018 Red Sox. Once I learned that, and once I read the report where Cora was mentioned 11 times and stated that the whole system was “originated” and “executed” in conjunction with him, the die was cast. There is no question that Cora is deeply implicated, and it makes perfect sense that the Red Sox fired him. As stated above, Rob Manfred has withheld Cora’s official punishment pending the outcome of that investigation, but my guess is that Cora goes on the permanently ineligible list, with the right to request reinstatement after the 2021 World Series. In essence, he will be banned for two years (plus however long it takes for some organization to look the other way and hire him).

“[H]ow about Carlos Beltrán? He was the veteran presence on that 2017 Astros club, who showed the younger players how to take certain advantages. My guess is that the investigation will cast a negative light on him as well. How Mets would that be to have their new manager suspended before he ever takes the field?”

This one remains fascinating. Manfred’s report only list seven individuals: Mike Fiers (the original whistleblower), Crane, Luhnow, Brandon Taubman, Hinch, Cora, and Beltrán. Beltrán escaped punishment as the league essentially gave all players (and Beltrán was a player in 2017) immunity to speak candidly during the investigation. However, the report stated that he “discussed that the team could improve on decoding opposing teams’ signs and communicating the signs to the batter.” Manfred declared that this was a “player-driven” scheme, but the only player he referenced was Beltrán. How can the Mets turn the page with a new manager under this level of scrutiny? How can Beltrán survive the onslaught of the New York media as a first-time manager (and someone who doesn’t have a great track record with the press) with this scandal hanging over his head? And it would seem that the Mets could fire him for cause. Either during the interview process or right after, Beltrán said the following to the NY Post about the scanadal:

“I’m not aware of that camera…”

“We took a lot of pride studying pitchers [on] the computer. That is the only technology that I use and understand…”

“The game of baseball for years, guys have given location and if the catchers get lazy and the pitcher doesn’t cover the signs from second base [then] of course players are going to take advantage. I don’t call that cheating. I call that using small details to take advantage. I think baseball is doing a great job adding new technology to make sure the game is even for both teams. It’s easy to blame someone when they win.”

At best, Beltrán shaded the truth. At worst – and most likely – Beltrán flat out lied. Now, I am no labor lawyer, but it seems to me that intentional misrepresentation gives rise to termination for cause. And if the Mets did fire him, what is his recourse? Would he sue the Mets? What is his cause of action? (Wrongful dismissal, I know.) Would he want the Mets to subpoena the entire Astros 2017 roster and make them assert – under oath – that Beltrán knew nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing? Historically the Mets have been on the wrong side of many lawsuits, but I like their odds in this potential litigation.

With respect to team punishment, I wrote: “How about a loss of the Astros’ 2020 first round pick (#30). And loss of $5M in bonus pool money (essentially their first round allocation). And, as a kicker, the loss of their international bonus pool as well.”

Here Manfred made me look weak. He took their first round and second round picks in 2020 and 2021. He didn’t take any international bonus pool money (a missed opportunity, in my opinion), but he did fine them the same $5M (more about that below).

I also averred that the Astros should get hit with a $2M fine for each offense. I hypothesized a total fine of $55M. I have not wavered from that. Manfred stated that the $5M is “the highest allowable fine under the Major League Constitution.” I have been trying to locate this provision, and the nearest I can find is the MLB Constitution that expired in 2012. That document states (as I have previously written) that the fines may be imposed “for each offense.” And Manfred makes quite clear in his report that the Astros’ actions went from 2017 well into the 2018 season. Simply put, he found more than a single offense. I believe he should have arbitrarily identified ten violations and fined the team $50M. The $5M is easily paid for by Hinch’s and Luhnow’s now-forfeited salaries. But $50M is much harder to cover.

In November I stated, “[t]he Astros need the professional sports equivalent of a five-week suspension; they need a reprimand that requires them to ‘fail’ next season; they need a rebuke that tells the world that this behavior will not be tolerated.”

The suspensions (and ultimate firings) conveyed that message to the individuals, but not necessarily to the teams. Many around baseball think that firing two individuals, losing four draft picks, and paying $5M, is a small price for a World Series championship. Reasonable minds may differ, but change that price tag to $50M, and I don’t think they would.

Lastly, Bill Plaschke is getting a lot of run for his article in the Los Angeles Times that the Astros should be stripped of their World Series title. I am not a big fan of this concept, as I don’t think you can un-ring a bell. It is the same reason I disagree with “vacating” wins for college sports programs. Those games were played, those trophies were hoisted, and those parades were held. You cannot change that. Jayson Stark wrote eloquently about this idea in The Athletic.

Rather, I would like to see the league require the Astros to either take down the World Series flag in Minute Maid Park, or add an asterisk to it. The same goes for any MLB-licensed World Series gear. You want to sell it, profit from it, you need to own it. Houston must add the caveat. The asterisk should be included in/on all official MLB sites and references to the 2017 World Series champion. They got their rings, they had their glory, and now they get to live with their infamy. That (plus $50M) is a punishment that fits the crime.

PLAY BALL!!

“What If”: The Butterfly Effect

One on my favorite things to think about when watching baseball is the “what if…” “What if” that last pitch had been called a strike…? “What if” that ball had been an inch to the right? “What if” the third baseman caught that foul ball?

But now that the baseball season has been in the books for two months, and the hot stove has been burning up, I got to thinking about an interesting (to me, anyway) “what if”, and the butterfly effect that it had on the off-season.

Let’s go back to the bottom of the ninth of Game 5 of the NLDS. While the Dodgers had led 3-0 after five, the score was 3-3 going into the bottom of the ninth. With one on and one out, and rookie catcher Will Smith lined the first pitch he saw from Daniel Hudson to deep right field. According to Rob Arthur (@No_Little_Plans) (who, if you don’t follow, you should), during the regular season balls hit with the same characteristics (exit velocity between 99-101 MPH and a launch angle between 25-27 degrees) flew an average of 385 feet. If Smith’s ball had traveled that far, it easily lands in the right field pavilion, and Smith finds his name mentioned amongst Gibby and Turner and Culberson (look that one up). A few more feet and the Nationals’ curse remains in place, and we would have had yet another Dodgers-Cardinals NLCS, and we possibly get a 2017 World Series rematch.

That is the team analysis. But what about certain players? “What if” Smith became a hero and the Nats went home? What happens with Stephen Strasburg? He had an opt-out in his agreement with the Nationals, meaning he could have become a free agent and walked away from the remaining 4/$100M on his existing deal. It is likley that he would have opted out no matter what, trying to get the CC Sabathia / Clayton Kershaw leverage extension, adding maybe two years and $50M to the deal; or maybe even an additional $80M, pushing the AAV to $30M. But…

Smith’s ball landed in Adam Eaton’s glove, the Nationals won the game in the tenth, and then Strasburg threw seven innings of Game 3 of the NLCS, giving up one earned run while striking out eleven. The Nationals went on to win the pennant.

Then, Strasburg won Game 2 of the World Series, pitching six innings, giving up two earned runs, while striking out seven.

And to put a bow on his post-season, Strasburg went 8-1/3 innings in Game 6 of the World Series, yet again allowing only two earned runs while striking out another seven Astros. This led to him being named the World Series MVP. Which made opting out of his contract a no-brainer – he would never again have more value or more leverage.

So, rather than getting a deal like the ones described above, Strasburg got himself a record contract of 7/$245M. There is simply no way he gets that deal if his season ended at Chavez Ravine in the NLDS.

With Strasburg’s deal in the books, his agent Scott Boras had a baseline to negotiate Gerrit Cole’s new contract. If the Astros has been playing the Dodgers (or the Cardinals) in the World Series, there is a better than zero chance that Cole wouldn’t have been sitting in the bullpen begging to pitch in Game 7, only to be spurned while his team walked off the field in defeat. In fact, against those other opponents, there is a better than zero chance that Cole would have found himself bathed in champagne and on a parade float through the streets of H-Town. And, in that alternate universe, there is no bitter Cole donning a Boras Corp. hat in the clubhouse after said Game 7, seemingly making the decision right then and there that he would be taking his talents elsewhere.

With Cole truly on the market, and with Strasburg’s deal inked, Boras preyed on the Yankees to get a ridiculous 9/$324M out of the Steinbrenners. Without Strasburg’s deal as a precedent, there is simply no way that Cole gets that deal. In fact, odds are that Cole would have gotten – and been happy with – Strasburg’s 7/$245M.

And with those two record-breaking deals done, Boras went to work for Anthony Rendon. Had his season ended at Dodger Stadium, he doesn’t hit .317 with 10 RBI over the NLCS and the World Series, including two huge homeruns in the seventh inning of both Games 6 and 7 in Houston. Going into free agency, the benchmarks for Rendon were Manny Machado at 10/$300M and Nolan Arenado at 8/$260M. But Rendon was able to command $35M/year from the Angels – for 7 years. Without those extra eleven games, there is simply no way Rendon gets a higher AAV than both Machado and Arenado for that many years.

Seven feet. Less than an eyelash of seam height differential on the ball. A fraction of an inch on the barrel of the bat. The flap of a butterfly’s wings. That’s all it would have taken to change history…and destiny. Millions – maybe hundreds of millions – of dollars changed hands when Smith “flew” out to right rather than walking the Dodgers off. Families, teams, and cities were transformed over 84 inches. Will Smith has a long career ahead of himself, so maybe he has easily moved on. But for Clayton Kershaw (he of the back-to-back dingers in the eighth), Dave Roberts, and Andrew Friedman, they have probably gone to bed every night for the past three months thinking, “What if…?”

PLAY BALL!!

Crime and Punishment

A few weeks ago the child of a good friend got in trouble at school. When the dust settled and the punishment was doled out, he/she was suspended for five weeks. You read that right, he/she was essentially given a grade-level death sentence. I am not sure what the school hoped to accomplish with this draconian measure, but I doubt the intent was to essentially cause a student to have to repeat a grade. After some much-deserved push-back, the school reduced the sentence to five days. Considerably more appropriate – at least in terms of time. It seems to me that an institution filled with academics could come up with a more productive punishment – one that would benefit the student, the school, and the community at-large, all while acting as a deterrent for potential future offenders. Alas, it was not meant to be.

So, if a private school that prides itself on its progressive policies, a place of higher learning that hopes to usher out into the world fully-formed, quality human beings, cannot figure out a proper penalty for aberrant behavior, I am not sure how we can expect a major sports league to do so. We have seen, time and again, the NCAA, the NFL, the NBA, and of course, MLB, bollox this up twenty-six ways from Sunday school.

Last week I was playing in my weekly softball game and, as one might expect, we started talking about the Houston Astros. To a man (there were no women in the dugout), the belief was that the Astros should have the book thrown at them. Unfortunately, there isn’t really an appropriate book. One suggestion was that the team should be disbanded. Another was that they should have to vacate their 2017 World Series title. And my favorite: they should be forced to play without a shortstop next season.

During our game, while I was playing first base, a call came from the dugout asking my opinion (these are pretty informal affairs). I quickly said, “Well, the max fine is $2 million, so…” and then I had to field my position. But like the echo in Casey’s at bat, there was an immediate response from the mound: “There is no way that $2 million is the most they can fine them,” and then he threw a pitch. This led to another conversation, wherein I promised to do the research.

Insofar as the U.S. Constitution is getting a lot of run these days, it seems fitting to look at the MLB Constitution. I will quote the entirety of Article II, Section 3, with specific highlights:

In the case of conduct by Major League Clubs, owners, officers, employees or players that is deemed by the Commissioner not to be in the best interests of Baseball, punitive action by the Commissioner for each offense may include any one or more of the following: (a) a reprimand; (b) deprivation of a Major League Club of representation in Major League Meetings; (c) suspension or removal of any owner, officer or employee of a Major League Club; (d) temporary or permanent ineligibility of a player; (e) a fine, not to exceed $2,000,000 in the case of a Major League Club, not to exceed $500,000 in the case of an owner, officer or employee, and in an amount consistent with the then-current Basic Agreement with the Major League Baseball Players Association, in the case of a player; (f) loss of the benefit of any or all of the Major League Rules, including but not limited to the denial or transfer of player selection rights provided by Major League Rules 4 and 5; and (g) such other actions as the Commissioner may deem appropriate.

So, the pitcher and I were both correct. $2 million is the maximum fine, for each offense. However, I am not sure how “for each offense” is actually applied. Let’s take a look at some precedent.

In 2017, after a lengthy investigation and a federal trial wherein a former Cardinals executive was sentenced to 46 months in prison for hacking into the Astros database (why are the Astros always in the middle of these things?), MLB handed the St. Louis club a $2M fine and the loss of two later round draft picks (together worth about $1.8M). According to the plea agreement, the executive hacked into the Astros’ system at least five times. Could that have been five “offenses” resulting in a $10M fine? Who knows. What we do know is that that didn’t happen. Further, Commissioner Rob Manfred determined that the executive was a “rogue operator” and that the club did not know or suspect the behavior. Thus, he declined to level the above-referenced $500,000 fine. But it sure seems like he could (should?) have.

With the Astros, we already have at least two “offenses,” and I have no doubt that upon further inquiry, many more will be determined. Was this behavior so egregious that more than $2M could be assessed? We know, from the email discovered by Ken Rosenthal and Evan Drellich that Astros executives were in on the potential cheating, asking scouts to get video of other teams’ dugouts. So, an additional $500,000 is definitely in order.

Let’s play this out. Let’s say Manfred discovers 25 can’t miss violations, and he determines that ten executives were in on it. And let’s say he interprets the “for each offense” to include each offense (for you attorneys, how about that for strict construction; and for you Brady Bunch fans, how about that for exact words). And he throws the whole library at the Astros to the tune of $55M ($2M x 25 plus $500K x 10). Does that do the job? According to Statista, as of 2019, the Astros are worth $1.8 billion. A $55M fine is just 3% of the team’s value. A drop in the bucket – or in Houston terms, a dribble in the spittoon. But, if you base the fine solely on revenue, it is considerably heftier. The Astros had $368M in revenue this year, so a fine this large would represent a 15% hit. Now we are talking behavior modification-type money.

But despite protestations otherwise, money is not everything. The team will get a ton more of that next year, and could simply cut payroll or raise ticket prices to offset the loss. More needs to be done. Let’s take another look at the precedent.

Last year a video appeared showing the Giants CEO, Larry Baer, forcibly struggling with his wife with her eventually ending up on the ground. Manfred reviewed the tape and concluded Mr. Baer’s conduct was “unacceptable under MLB policies and warrants discipline…In determining the appropriate level of discipline, I find that Mr. Baer should be held to a higher standard because as a leader he is expected to be a role model for others in his organization and community.” Baer was suspended for half the season.

If the facts lead where we believe they will, should MLB suspend Jeff Luhnow for half the season? If you will recall, Brandon Taubman, the assistant general manager, was already fired for being a horrible human being, so that would/could leave the Astros without its top two baseball operations executives until July. To make it really hurt, they could extend this until August 1^st so the Astros would be without Luhnow for the trade deadline?

And what about A.J. Hinch? The manager either knew or should have known what was happening just outside his dugout? In the NCAA they call that a lack of institutional control. Should he be suspended for half the season? More?

Now let’s get creative and more dicey. What about Alex Cora, the Astros’ 2017 bench coach? He knew – or should have known. Regardless of the fact that he is now the Red Sox manager, he too should face discipline. And my favorite, how about Carlos Beltran? He was the veteran presence on that 2017 Astros club, who showed the younger players how to take certain advantages. My guess is that the investigation will cast a negative light on him as well. How Mets would that be to have their new manager suspended before he ever takes the field?

But since a federal crime only netted two later round draft picks for the Cardinals, I cannot imagine what some sign stealing would garner. How about a loss of the Astros’ 2020 first round pick (#30). And loss of $5M in bonus pool money (essentially their first round allocation). And, as a kicker, the loss of their international bonus pool as well. There is precedent for this, as MLB wiped away the Braves’ international bonus pool for their international signing violations in 2017.

Back to the softball field, it is unrealistic to take the Commissioner’s trophy away from the 2017 club. And, to be fair, there were no trash cans being banged in Dodger Stadium when Yu Darvish got shelled in Game 7. That was on him; and it was on the Dodgers for failing to capitalize on seven baserunners in the first three innings. Plus, if the Astros didn’t win that night, then does Carlos Correa propose to his wife on the field? Do we nullify their marriage, too?

Speaking of Correa, I am not sure Houston should have to play without him next year. I know Alex Bregman feels confident enough to cover the entire left side of the infield, but that seems like a non-starter.

And we can’t disband the team. What would happen to “Deep in the Heart of Texas” if it was not sung 81 times a year in Minute Maid Park?

Our friend’s school meted out a punishment that didn’t fit the crime. Luckily, they corrected their error. I fear that MLB will under-correct in the other direction. The Astros need the professional sports equivalent of a five-week suspension; they need a reprimand that requires them to “fail” next season; they need a rebuke that tells the world that this behavior will not be tolerated. Manfred is in an uneasy spot – he is required to penalize one of his bosses. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. But if we are going to be forced to live in a country that more and more looks like an autocracy, it is time for at least one person to lawfully execute his plenary powers.

PLAY BALL!!

Lying Only Makes it Worse

When I got home from work the other night, my 10-year old daughter had ink all over her arm. I asked her – maybe in a somewhat pointed way – what happened? She looked at her arm, and with feigned shock she said: “Hmm, that must have rubbed off from my paper.” I asked her if someone had written on her and she responded: “I don’t know.” Incredulous, I asked: “You don’t know if someone wrote on your arm?” And that is when the story fell apart and she acknowledged that she and her friend wrote on each other at school.

It was innocuous, frivolous, and thoughtless, but her first instinct – to avoid trouble – was to lie. She is not special. All (most?) kids do this all the time. (Well, I hope so. I would hate to be raising a sociopath.) We are all human, and we often take the path that we hope will offer the least resistance. Unfortunately, that path is often strewn with danger.

Which brings us to the non-baseball baseball topic of the week: Brandon Taubman and the Houston Asstros [sic]. I was speaking with a friend last night and asked him about L’Affair Taubman and he didn’t know anything about it. That reminded me that not everyone follows baseball as closely as I do; and not everyone lives in the baseball bubble – they have lives to live and non-sociopathic children to raise.

Here it is in a nutshell, but it does take some explaining. Here goes:

In 2018, Toronto Blue Jays pitcher Roberto Osuna was arrested on charges that he assaulted the mother of his child. The woman elected not to cooperate with the investigation, gathered her things, and fled back home to Mexico. But Osuna did not escape punishment. MLB suspended him for 75 games for violating the league’s domestic violence policy.

While under suspension, the Blue Jays essentially washed their hands of Osuna, trading him to the Houston Astros. The Astros are an organization steeped in analytics, run by many MBAs who started their respective careers in the banking, finance, and insurance industries. In short, they know a distressed asset when they see one; and they pounced on the opportunity to buy low on Osuna – a 23-year closer with an electric arm and allegedly a closed fist.

Much ink has been spilt about the poor optics of this decision, and the Astros were appropriately scorned for this trade. But, for all intents and purposes, over the past fifteen months the rancor dissipated. Until this past Saturday night.

Osuna came into the ninth inning of Game 6 of the ALCS with a chance to send the Astros back to the World Series. He failed. He gave up a game-tying two-run home run to DJ LeMahieu. He was, of course, bailed out by José Altuve in the bottom of said ninth inning, and Houston got to the World Series in spite of Osuna’s metldown.

In the midst of the clubhouse celebration, Astros Assistant General Manager, Brandon Taubman, got a little carried away. With a cigar in his mouth and a champagne bottle in his hand, he repeatedly (read: at least six times) yelled: “Thank God we got Osuna! I’m so fucking glad we got Osuna!” This was an odd time to be that exuberant, insofar as Osuna had just nearly blown the game. This was a horrific thing to shout for a bunch of other reasons as well.

Taubman apparently screamed this to, or in front of, or near, three female reporters, one of whom was wearing a purple domestic violence awareness bracelet. At first blush, there was no apparent reason for this outburst. But then we learned that Taubman had previously complained about the bracelet-wearing woman – he was unhappy with her tweets addressing domestic violence. The incident was so outlandish that an Astros staffer reportedly apologized for Taubman’s behavior in the immediate aftermath.

On Monday, Stephanie Apstein, a reporter for Sports Illustrated, and one of the recipients of Taubman’s tirade, reached out to Gene Dias, the Astros media relations director, to explain what she intended to write, and to ask if he, the Astros, or Taubman had a comment. Dias, apparently, rejected all three offers. So Monday night Apstein published her story.

That is when this whole thing became like the incident with my 10-year old daughter. My guess (and, truth be told, this is only a guess) the following is what transpired next:

Dias reported the incident to his boss, who reported it to his/her boss, who brought it to Jeff Luhnow, the Astros General Manager and President of Baseball Operations.
Luhnow confronted Taubman, and he could either admit someone wrote on his arm, or he could dissemble. He chose to dissemble.
Taubman made up a story about protecting a player and lied about what actually happened.
Luhnow huddled with the rest of the front office and thought, “that works.” And then they ran with it.

So, about one hour after Apstein’s story hit the internet, the Astros put out the following statement:

“The story posted by Sports Illustrated is misleading and completely irresponsible. An Astros player was being asked questions about a difficult outing. Our executive was supporting that player during a difficult time. His comments had everything to do about the game situation that just occurred and nothing else – they were also not directed toward any specific reporters. We are extremely disappointed in Sports Illustrated’s attempt to fabricate a story where one does not exist.”

Jeff Passan, Joe Posnanski, Buster Olney, Yahoo Sports, the Baseball Writers Association, and countless others have opined about this hogwash and how dangerous it was to the integrity of a sportswriter, so there is no need for me to pile on. Suffice it to say that at least four other members of the press immediately corroborated Apstein’s account and disputed the drivel offered by Houston’s front office.

Despite their best (worst?) efforts, when the issue wouldn’t just “go away,” when the “the ink just rubbed off on my arm” was being met by a cynical press corps, the Astros had to try again. Taubman tried his hand with the following:

“This past Saturday, during our clubhouse celebration, I used inappropriate language for which I am deeply sorry and embarrassed. In retrospect, I realize that my comments were unprofessional and inappropriate. My overexuberance in support of a player has been misinterpreted as a demonstration of a regressive attitude about an important social issue. Those that know me know that I am a progressive and charitable member of the community, and a loving and committed husband and father. I hope that those who do not know me understand that the Sports Illustrated article does not reflect who I am or my values. I am sorry if anyone was offended by my actions.”

Failed…again.

Lied…again.

When an equally feckless statement from Astros owner Jim Crane failed to move the societal needle, MLB stepped in and sent their own investigators. It took 72 hours, but on the fourth try, after being asked “do you really expect me to believe you don’t know if someone wrote on your arm?” the Astros issued the following statement:

“During the past two days, the Astros pro-actively assisted Major League Baseball in interviewing Astros employees as part of MLB’s investigation of the events published in the recent Sports Illustrated article. Major League Baseball also separately interviewed members of the media over the past 24 hours.

Our initial investigation led us to believe that Brandon Taubman’s inappropriate comments were not directed toward any reporter. We were wrong. We sincerely apologize to Stephanie Apstein, Sports Illustrated and to all individuals who witnessed this incident or were offended by the inappropriate conducts. The Astros in no way intended to minimize the issues related to domestic violence.

Our initial belief was based on witness statements about the incident. Subsequent interviews have revealed that Taubman’s inappropriate comments, were, in fact, directed toward one or more reporters. Accordingly, we have terminated Brandon Taubman’s employment with the Houston Astros. His conduct does not reflect the values of our organization and we believe this is the most appropriate course of action…”

What became clear, from MLB’s investigation and the above press release, is that Taubman, when faced with a bad situation, chose to lie. And the Astros, when faced with a bad situation, chose to lie. Taubman got fired, and the Astros faced a firing line. And then their two best pitchers lost back-to-back games at home for the first time ever; they now trail the World Series two games to none; and everyone in the country who knows this story is rooting against them. Karma is indeed a bitch!

The irony of all of this – what I tell my kids each and every time they try this bullshit – is that there was no need to lie, and the issue could go away with a simple “I’m sorry.”

In an alternate universe, when confronted with his aberrant behavior, Taubman could have said: “Man, I was so excited, and maybe a little tipsy on champagne, and I said something really stupid. I regret what I said and sincerely apologize to those writers.”

And in that same alternate universe, the team could have issued a statement saying: “One of our executives used poor judgment and used wholly inappropriate language in the clubhouse. We take these matters seriously. We have suspended Brandon Taubman for four weeks without pay, we have made a $500,000 donation to the Texas Council on Family Violence, and we – as an organization – sincerely apologize to the objects of this outburst as well as anyone else who witnessed or was affected by it in any manner.”^^

They could have done this on Monday, and by Tuesday there would not have been a story. Taubman would have been back at work before the winter meetings, and the Astros would not have engendered a level of ill-will not seen since…they acquired Osuna in the first place.

It is just so easy: Tell the damn truth. I sound like a broken record to my kids, but for the benefit of the entire Astros organization, here goes: Whatever it is, lying only makes it worse!

PLAY BALL!!

^^One last note: Moments before this posted, prior to Game 3 of the World Series, Stephanie Apstein met with Jeff Luhnow and asked that the original press release – the one that impugned her integrity and claimed she made the whole thing up – be retracted. Luhnow would not commit to doing so. Go Nats!

The Two-Strike Pitch (Redux)

Four years ago I wrote an article about what I love most about baseball. In case you have forgotten, or – more likely – in case you never read it, what I love most about baseball is the two-strike pitch.

And if that is my favorite aspect of the game, then boy-oh-boy did I get the motherlode on Saturday night. If, for some reason, you missed what happened in the top of the ninth inning of Game 6 of the ALCS, let me give you a brief recap:

With Astros leading 4-2, three outs away from the pennant, Gia Urshela lined the third pitch he saw from Roberto Osuna into left field, thus bringing the tying run to the plate. Brett Gardner followed and struck out on four pitches. But that turned the lineup over, and the Yankees’ best hitter came to the plate. It is at this moment that I said the following: “I see a two-run homer in our future.” (True story; I have witnesses.)

When I was in high school I had a coach who was studying to get his PhD in Psychology. He used his team, a bunch of tenth graders, as his guinea pigs, and tried all sorts of psychological tricks on us. I once asked him: “Bart, which would you want up in a clutch situation? The guy who is 0-4 or the guy who is 4-4?” True to form, he responded: “I would prefer the guy who has the most confidence.” Yeah, thanks for nothing, Bart!

On Saturday night, we got to see Bart’s concept put to the test. DJ LeMahieu hit .327 this year – his second best season ever – with a career-high 33 homeruns. He was hitting .320 in the ALCS when he stepped to the plate representing the tying run. But he was also 0-4 in Game 6. So, Bart, did we want this guy at the plate or not?

As a Yankee-hater, I certainly did not. He looked confident to me.

Osuna was able to get ahead of LeMahieu 1-2, setting up the pinnacle of baseball situations: the two-strike pitch. A slider away and the count was even. DJ then fouled back four straight pitches. But how about this: he fouled off two 97+ MPH fastballs, then an 85 MPH change-up, and then a 98.7 MPH fastball. How does one do that, on that stage, in that situation. Maybe Bart was right; maybe you want the guy with confidence. LeMahieu then took a 98+ MPH up and in to push the count full. For those of you counting at home (I sure was), that was six straight two-strike pitches. An embarrassment of riches.

And as Osuna checked the sign from Martín Maldonado, my thoughts went in a different direction. I said to a friend of mine: “This guy’s parents are just a few years older than us, and they are sitting in that ballpark watching this. Imagine how they feel?!”

As we all know, DJ hit the tenth offering – the seventh two-strike pitch – into the bleachers in right field to tie the game. Unbelievable!

As we also all know, the homerun that could have gone down in history as an all-timer may soon be forgotten, as José Altuve hit a game-deciding, series-ending, pennant-clinching, walk-off two-run dinger with two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning. The only downside: he did it with one strike.

But we as baseball fans can never allow ourselves to forget the two-strike pitch, or the seven of them that DJ LeMahieu saw on Saturday night. If that at bat didn’t get your heart pumping, nothing ever can, nothing ever will.

One last note: I called Altuve’s homerun, but not like Gerrit Cole. From The Athletic:

“Man, if he throws anything down and in, it’s going out,” Cole said.

“It’s going out to right,” Miley replied.

Cole was having none of it.

“It’s not going out to right. It’s going out to left. And it’s going deep,” he said.

I called that homerun two years too early. With the Dodgers trailing 12-11 with two outs in the top of the ninth inning of Game 5 of the 2017 World Series, Austin Barnes was on second base representing the tying run. As I stood in the stands behind the Dodgers’ on deck circle in Minute Maid Park, I turned to the Astros fans next to me and said that Chris Taylor was going to get a hit to tie the game just so Altuve could walk it off in the bottom of the ninth. Sure enough, Taylor got that hit. But…Altuve flew out to lead off the bottom of the ninth. My career as a prognosticator seemed to be over. I guess I am just ahead of my time!

The Fall Classic begins tomorrow. Scherzer v. Cole; Strasburg v. Verlander. Before we even get to Greinke v. Corbin, we will witness four potential Hall of Fame pitchers starting the first two games of the World Series. Those guys have a total of 8,729 career strike outs between them, including 1,120 this season. I feel pretty confident we will see plenty of two-strike pitches.

PLAY BALL!!

Game Day of Atonement

The email came in a little before 8pm Monday night. It was so simple, so pure, it didn’t require anything in the body; just the “re” line: “game 5?”

I didn’t get the message right away, but upon reading it, the response was also simple: “Can’t do it.”

I have omitted the first two words of my reply, as many of you reading this have probably inferred. The reason my response was so quick and so simple was those two missing words: “Yom Kippur!”

Now, I’m no Sandy Koufax, and don’t hold myself to some grand level of religiosity. But Yom Kippur – that one is sacrosanct. I am sure there will be many an MOT in Dodger Stadium on Wednesday night, breaking their fast with stale buns rather than challah, Dodger Dogs in place of corned beef. I just won’t be one of them. And, to be perfectly clear, I won’t vilify anyone for doing so. It’s just not for me.

But this is where things get interesting. According to Jewish Baseball News, there are nine current Jews in the majors. I am not sure when they updated their site, but I know they missed at least two others: Rowdy Tellez played for the Blue Jays and Ryan Lavarnway got 18 ABs for the Reds this season. So there are eleven big leaguers who may (or may not) have been bar mitzvahed. (And, not for nothing, the list of Jewish minor leaguers reads like the temple all-aliya team: Fishman, Gold, Goldstein, Gurwitz, Kaminsky, Rosenberg, Weiss, Weitzman, etc.)

Of those eleven in the show, a shocking five play for teams who made the playoffs. Ryan Braun was sent home in the Wild Card game, and Garrett Stubbs didn’t make the Astros’ playoff roster. So then there were three that mattered…and boy do they matter. Alex Bregman is an MVP hopeful for the Astros, Joc Pederson is providing pop for the Dodgers, and Max Fried may find himself on the biggest bema of his life.

The Astros will take the field in Tampa tonight at 7:07pm EST. That is exactly one minute before the sun will set and Kol Nidre will begin (wouldn’t it be great to have the shofar blown right before the umpire yells “Play Ball”!?). For some reason, I don’t see Bregman leaving the field after the first pitch is thrown. For those less devout, they may claim Bregman isn’t actually playing on the holiest day of the year, but I think that is a loophole he may need to atone for come Wednesday morning – I am sure he can find a nice shul in the Tampa area. The good news for Bregman is that, win or lose, he will be able to break the fast without worrying about any game on Wednesday (Game 5 of that series would not be until Thursday).

The sun is due to set in Atlanta on Wednesday at 7:13pm. That is two hours and eleven minutes after the start of Game 5 of the Braves-Cardinals series. For baseball in 2019, we may only be in the fifth inning when the Day of Atonement draws to a close, which means that Max Fried may be able to take the field without any guilt or remorse. For multiple reasons, Mr. Fried will be asking his high school teammate, Jack Flaherty, not to make too quick of work of the Braves. But a main reason would be so that the Book of Life can be sealed before Max has to take the mound. Time seems to be on his side.

And Joc Pederson may get just as lucky. If Dave Roberts elects not to start Young Joc (which is unlikely with Stephen Strasburg* on the mound), he would need only 51 minutes from the first pitch (5:37pm PST) until sundown (6:28pm PST) to avoid offense. If Joc is not in the starting lineup, there is a fair chance he does not get called off the bench to pinch hit until holiest day of the year is officially over. One wonders which outcome Joc prefers. One wonders which outcome Joc’s rabbi prefers? And one wonders, will Sandy Koufax wait until 6:28pm to take his seat next to the Dodger dugout?

*At this moment, you may be asking about the pitcher Joc and the Dodgers are facing Wednesday night: Stephen Strasburg. Although he is a “burg” and married to a woman named Rachel, he is decidedly not Jewish, and typically wears a cross around his neck when on the mound. For him, there is no ecclesiastical dilemma.

For those of you observing Yom Kippur, I wish you an easy fast. May your Yizkor and Ne’ilah services end early enough that you get to watch the end of what stands to be an epic Game 5.

Good Yuntif and then…

PLAY BALL!!

Head First Strikes Out…Again

As a writer (am I a writer?), I love an evergreen topic. It makes it so much easier to create content.

As a baseball fan (I am a baseball fan), however, certain evergreen topics are infuriating.

Last week I was listening to the Executive Access podcast (a must-subscribe if you love the inner working of baseball), and Mark Feinsand was speaking with Scott Sharp, Assistant GM of the Royals. They got to talking about the 2015 World Series, and Sharp was remarking about Eric Hosmer’s sprint home to tie Game 5 in the ninth inning. But, Sharp was lamenting about Hosmer got home, “after I told him countless times in the minor leagues: do not slide head first.” Sharp, as a former player, and a former director of player development, knows of the dangers that are inherent to leading with your hands, and instructed his players, repeatedly, not to do that. Obviously, they didn’t listen.

I wrote about this subject in 2015, and 2016, and 2017. I skipped last season, but as with other evergreen topics, we are back here again.

Two weekends ago, the Cubs MVP hopeful Javier Báez dove trying to steal second base. He ended up fracturing his thumb, and is out for the rest of the season. It’s not like the Cubs could use him for their last four weeks. It’s not like his .848 OPS, 4.7 WAR, and his glove work at shortstop would have been helpful down the stretch. The Cubbies are 6-5 since he got injured and fell out of a playoff spot for the first time since early in the season (as of this writing, they have a Wild Card spot). Do you think the Cardinals, leading the division and with seven games left against the Cubs, are licking their chops knowing that Nico Hoerner (he of the 20 career ABs) will be manning short in lieu of “El Mago”? I feel confident that the folks on the North Side don’t feel so good about that.

But I guess people (and teams) simply don’t learn their lessons. The other night I got home from work, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the television. The MLB Network was airing the Cubs vs. the Padres, and at the exact moment I turned on the game, Jason Heyward was diving into home plate, trying to score on a short fly ball to left. Upon review he was safe, and it may have been because of the impressive body control he displayed with the dive that he was so. The Cubs were trailing 6-2 at the time, and ended up losing the game. Did the reward of scoring a run down four in the fourth inning outweigh the risk of Heyward possibly breaking a finger, a hand, or a shoulder? In a pennant race? In a must-win game? When your best player had just been lost for the season doing the same thing? I can only imagine Theo, Jed, and Maddon all held their individual and collective breaths waiting for Heyward to pop up unharmed.

Why do players continue to do this? Why do teams still allow it? In 2017, Mike Trout potentially lost another MVP when he tore the UCL in his thumb sliding head first into second base. He was off to his best season ever. So what did Trout do upon his return? Did he forswear ever leading with his hands again? Nope. He got one of those new-fangled kitchen mitts that players wear to “protect” themselves when the slide…you guessed it, head-first. This is insanity.

What needs to happen to make this stop? Does a player need to break his neck and die on the field? Does a promising player have to have his career ended in one fateful moment? Does it need to start in Pony League (Little League already bans the practice)? High school? College?

All we read these days is how players who have swung the bat a certain way for 20+ years go to a hitting guru in the off-season and change their swing path. Think about that – a player has the ability to change something he has done probably a million times – swing a bat – in a matter of a few months. But, for some reason, he cannot “relearn” how to slide? Even though he slides feet first at least some of the time? Even though sliding is not as natural to him as swinging the bat. Any player who says he can’t change the way he has always done it is, pardon my French, full of shit. He doesn’t want to change – and no one is making him change. That has to change.

In 2016, I did a very rough break down of the costs associated with injuries resulting from head first slides (in salary terms only). That list and those costs could easily be recalculated upwards over the past three years. No matter; it is too depressing.

Every time I watch a player dive into a base, my heart stops – just for a moment. As a parent, it makes me angry; as a fan, it makes me nervous; and as a business person, it makes me crazy.

PLAY BALL!!