I'm still planning to recap a relatively successful White Sox 2008 season, but in the meantime, I have been rooting hard for the Rays to win the pennant (a) because I hate the Red Sox, and (b) because I hate the Wild Card and would love just once to see a World Series without any Wild Card teams in it.
But as I write this, the ALCS is all tied up at 3-3 with game 7 tomorrow night at Tropicana Field. In spite of the fact that Tampa Bay has the home field advantage for this 1 game to decide the AL pennant, I believe they are basically done for.
Like all Tampa Bay fans and a lot of other fans elsewhere, I was absolutely loving the butt-whupping the Rays were giving the Red Sox at Fenway this week. As game 5 rolled into the 7th inning, I was reveling in the idea of watching them frolic in front of all those Boston fans. In short, like the Rays and Joe Maddon, I was failing to rise to the occasion.
In retrospect, the sudden meltdown and inhuman Boston comeback was kind of inevitable. For 24 innings at Fenway, things had just been way too easy for the Rays. It was almost as if the equilibrium of the universe was dangerously out of sync, and what happened was a correction. This really was supposed to be a hard fought series going 7 games, and when TB had such an easy time of it at Fenway, they and we failed to realize that a healthy dose of paranoia was called for.
These are not your Father's Red Sox. They have an incredible mojo or something. I don't care if you're up 20-0, 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th, Jason Varitek is down to his last strike: They never stop believing. Never.
I won't say that Maddon letting Balfour pitch to Papi in the 7th inning of game 5 was a mistake, but I will say that, looking back, that appears to be one of those moments where a little paranoia is called for. Balfour had pitched well in game 1, but not so much in game 2. He had not pitched since game 2. To go to him because he's been big for you all season long is not a bad way to look at it, but unfortunately there are moments in post-season where something more than competence is called for.
Joe Maddon said he wanted Balfour and Wheeler to get the final outs. A fair question emerges from the ashes of that debacle: Why, in a mix-and-match bullpen, do you suddenly say that 2 specific pitchers are destined to close out this game? There must have been a lefty in the bullpen to go to. Let him face Pedroia, OK. But Papi? These are the moments that call for greatness, not simply competence. I don't care how many times Balfour may have gotten him out during the season, this is the big prize, and these are the Red Sox. If you bring a lefty in and Papi still goes yard, then you throw up your hands and say it just wasn't meant to be. And then you regroup with a 3-run lead. Certainly if you weren't paranoid before, you become paranoid now.
But if you bring in Miller or Howell (who ended up coming in anyway) and they retire Papi, then you have a 7-1 lead after 7 and you've just dodged a major bullet and shortened the game down to 2 innings. You've blunted the momentum and given your bullpen more room to breathe in the 8th. More "Sweet Caroline" Red Sox fans (Boston Globe's Bob Ryan's name for bandwagon Boston fans) leave the park.
In short, especially with the Red Sox, when you get them down to the ground, you place your foot on their neck and press down hard, and you don't let up one iota until the game and series is over. Even as you crush their neck, you pay attention to their foot and make sure it can't try to kick you in the head.
Having failed to do that, having allowed the cat to get out of the bag so to speak, it was inevitable that Beckett would not have another meltdown like he did in game 2. It is also not surprising that the Rays' bats have gone silent again. And I don't believe the Rays players can block out of their mind the fact that this pennant is slipping away from them. Joe Maddon may not have been kicking himself on the flight back to Florida, but I predict on Monday he will be.
And that's the harsh cruelty of postseason: one misstep, even a very slight one, can make all the difference in the world, especially if you are playing a team of ruthless competitors.
Tomorrow night it is Jon Lester vs. Matt Garza, and if Tampa Bay is to prevail somehow, Garza will have to rise to the occasion like he's never had to do before. Jason Bartlett must develop nerves of steel overnight. Evan Longoria must make every AB count (he's grounded into at least 3 DP's this series). And Joe Maddon must be willing to be a little paranoid and think outside the box. A small dose of "what are they up to now" might just serve him well.
I don't believe Jon Lester is going to have another game like his game 3, either. And the Red Sox have their mojo working for them again. Somehow the Rays have to ramp up their game without succumbing to the pressure.
If they can do that, they will truly earn a high place in history. At this point, I'm betting against it. They still have my undying respect and I think they have the undying respect of the Red Sox and Yankees (if not their fans), regardless of what happens. But they are about to learn the harshest lesson of all: fail to keep the peddle to the metal right up to the bitter end, and your reward is a couch-side seat for the World Series and an offseason of "What-if" nightmares.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Musings on a strange season
I have lived in St. Louis for the past 28 years and am known here as a die-hard Cardinal fan. But over the past couple of years, I have rediscovered the truth about myself: I have always been and always will be a die-hard White Sox fan first and foremost. The Cardinals are merely my "second-favorite" team.
The 2008 season is almost over, and White Sox fans are still hanging by a thread. We near the end of what for me personally has been the most excruciating season in my life. It has not been the most depressing season, not by a long shot. We still have it in our grasp to go to the post season with one day (officially) left in the season. Not only do we have a shot, but we still control our own destiny. Most years when I was growing up in Valparaiso, Indiana, the White Sox struggled to remain competitive and always fell short. In 2005, I was still a fairly inactive White Sox fan until mid-May when I suddenly noticed the team I was breast-fed on was running away with the AL Central division and that something truly special might be going on.
I moved to St. Louis in 1980, and there was no internet, no world-wide-web, no mlb.tv, literally no way to actively follow my team apart from the box scores in the daily paper. I didn't even have cable for the first part of the 80's so there were virtually no White Sox games for me to watch on TV, and the White Sox were never on a truly powerful radio station of the caliber of the mighty KMOX here in St. Louis. In 1985, into that vacuum stepped Vince Coleman and the St. Louis Cardinals, and I had a new team to root for. I still took notice of the White Sox whenever I could, but I just couldn't commit to the relationship.
Now, however, I can watch and listen to every game on-line, and I have connected on-line with other White Sox fans and found the motivation to get up to US Cellular Field a few times to take in games there. After intensely following the White Sox for a couple of years, I have come to realize that the Cardinals were never my #1 team, they were just keeping the seat warm. I actually feel more like a South Sider than a Gateway guy when it comes to baseball. The White Sox rev up their fans 5 minutes before first pitch in a way that makes Busch Stadium pregame festivities pale by comparison.
But in all my years of following the White Sox -- most of them in the distant past -- I can never remember a year like this one. I have taken to calling the 2008 AL Central the "Hot Potato Division". Nobody seems to want to win the thing. Cleveland and Detroit were expecting to fight each other for it, and both got off to such disappointing starts that they have not been in it for a long time. Most pundits thought the White Sox and Twins would be fighting to stay out of the cellar rather than fighting each other for first place. And yet they both have become like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed in Rocky I: unable to put each other away and seemingly happy just to go the distance. The minute one team jumps ahead of the other one, the 2nd place team jumps back in front again. The White Sox once upon a time had a 6.5 game lead, back before the All-Star break, but that evaporated almost as quickly as it emerged. Since the All-Star break most leads have been of only a half-game. Occasionally there has been a 2.5 game lead, but the team that has it just can't stand prosperity.
The White Sox have also had one of the most comical, gut-wrenching first place runs I have ever witnessed. They have what has turned out to be a peculiar mix of personalities in the clubhouse, along with a manager who has exceeded even his own unusually high standards for controversy in a never-ending attempt to motivate his team. He has called his team out in the papers on numerous occasions, sparred with members of other teams, groused about his teams' second-class status in the city of Chicago (an aspect that was deeply ingrained in me growing up), and various other tactics almost always designed to take the heat off his players and put it on him. It worked well early on, but as the season has worn down to the end, these tactics don't seem to be working as well. We currently have a 4-man rotation that has been unstable, a bullpen consisting of precisely 2 reliable arms that cannot be used every day, and an offense that is sputtering.
And we have had to deal with those piranhas from the north, that evil team that plays in the most ungodly home field advantage in all of sports, where home team lucky bounces seem to happen right when they need them to, and where frankly the home team can fundamental you right to death. The White Sox are built for power. The Twins are built for speed. Power can have its dry spells. Bats go silent from time to time. Speed and good bat control are more constant. The White Sox are 7-2 against the Twins at US Cellular Field. The Twins are 8-1 against the White Sox in the Metrodome, or as I affectionately call it, "The World's largest garbage bag." The Twins are a collection of misfits plus two left-handed juggernauts who don't seem to care if a righty or a lefty is on the mound. We just visited the Metrodome with a 2.5 game lead, and everything that could possibly go wrong there did. We left smarting from a painful walk-off loss and a .5 game deficit with 3 games left on the schedule (4 for us, if you count a make-up game with Detroit that may be necessary) having to hope somehow that lowly Kansas City, the perennial doormat of the division could somehow go there and beat the Twins at least a couple of times, while we eek out a victory or two against the Indians at home in Chicago.
It seemed like a daunting task, but as fierce and pesky and annoying as the Twins are, they have so far been putty in the hands of the Royals, losing the first 2, one of which had their golden arm Francisco Liriano on the mound. In doing so, they have opened the door wide for us to retake the division lead at the most crucial time in the season: the finish line series.
And we have inexplicably refused to enter, giving up crooked numbers in the 5th inning two straight games against the Indians. Starters that have been fairly reliable over the entire season did not last long enough to make it an official game (and thus be in line for a victory), and in each game, the reliever brought in to stem the tide has thrown gasoline on the fire instead. In both games, the sputtering offense has come to life again, but fallen just short, while the bullpen takes any additional support runs and given them right back again. Tonight, a 4 run 8th reduced a 6-run deficit to a 2-run deficit, and by the time the bottom of the 9th rolled around, the deficit was back up to 6.
And so here we still sit, .5 game back going into the final day of the official season with still nothing resolved, looking back over a multitude of missed chances by both teams to run away with the division.
The White Sox live by the homer and die by the homer. They can't bunt or move runners over if their lives depend on it. And the pitching breaks down at the most inappropriate times. We are like whales. We fear for our lives, we seek to intimidate you by our size and strength and power. We move slowly, we have trouble executing a run-down and sometimes in running the bases properly. We are a mess. We panic all the time.
The Twins, by contrast, are a team that doesn't have much going for it. They can't overpower anyone. They can't pummel you to death. But they also do not panic, they are fearless, and they are relentless. They cannot be intimidated. They make plenty of mistakes, but no lead is safe with them. In the apt words of Bert Blyleven, color analyst for their TV broadcasts this past Thursday night, "They simply refuse to quit." Take a 5 run lead on them in the top of the 4th inning, and for the remaining 7 innings (starting with the bottom of the 4th), they will gnaw you to death. Piranhas are small, they are no match for whales or sharks, but they will pounce on any and all mistakes. They will make plenty of mistakes themselves, as they did in that 6-run 4th we had on Thursday, and you damn well better take advantage of them while you have them, because you know they will do the same. They have an infielder who one of these days will hurt himself sliding into first base, but against us every time he did it he was safe. He would have been safe by a mile if he had run through the base; I like to see such idiotic sliders actually pay for there mistakes by turning a hit into an out. Instead, he kicks up a lot of dirt, ignites the crowd, and leaves you shaking your head in disgust. It's really annoying.
And yet, as we see the Royals take the first 2 in the Metrodome, the Twins can certainly be bested, even at home. So while the Twins have to be laughing their asses off at the futility that is the White Sox, they also have to be kicking themselves for failing to capitalize on it. Brandon Duckworth goes tomorrow for KC instead of their ace Zach Grienke, but the White Sox have also been spared Cliff Lee. Where 10-4 Scott Baker goes for Minnesota, 14-12 Mark Buehrle goes for the White Sox. The latter seems to be the most reliable choice for a big-game pitcher, but even he has had his slumps this year.
And now in the final week of the season, one more thing added to the mix: the White Sox look like -- from the outside -- a team with a lot of internal turmoil, from the sulking switch-hitting left fielder grousing about riding the bench in Minnesota, to the flashy, temperamental shortstop who thinks he's the manager and can call out his teammates in public, to the mysterious pitcher who, since he joined the White Sox in 2006 has shown a lot of potential but somewhat disappointing follow-through and who was jawing with his catcher tonight in the midst of giving up 6 runs to the Indians ... the White Sox look like a team imploding from within at the worst possible moment.
It is hard to imagine either one of these teams going very far in the postseason. Ironically enough, either the Royals or the Indians are probably a lot more capable right now of representing the division in the postseason than the two teams who are still alive for the final spot in the American League.
But this has also been a very enjoyable and memorable season, which just adds to the agony, but which will come in another posting tomorrow or the next day.
The 2008 season is almost over, and White Sox fans are still hanging by a thread. We near the end of what for me personally has been the most excruciating season in my life. It has not been the most depressing season, not by a long shot. We still have it in our grasp to go to the post season with one day (officially) left in the season. Not only do we have a shot, but we still control our own destiny. Most years when I was growing up in Valparaiso, Indiana, the White Sox struggled to remain competitive and always fell short. In 2005, I was still a fairly inactive White Sox fan until mid-May when I suddenly noticed the team I was breast-fed on was running away with the AL Central division and that something truly special might be going on.
I moved to St. Louis in 1980, and there was no internet, no world-wide-web, no mlb.tv, literally no way to actively follow my team apart from the box scores in the daily paper. I didn't even have cable for the first part of the 80's so there were virtually no White Sox games for me to watch on TV, and the White Sox were never on a truly powerful radio station of the caliber of the mighty KMOX here in St. Louis. In 1985, into that vacuum stepped Vince Coleman and the St. Louis Cardinals, and I had a new team to root for. I still took notice of the White Sox whenever I could, but I just couldn't commit to the relationship.
Now, however, I can watch and listen to every game on-line, and I have connected on-line with other White Sox fans and found the motivation to get up to US Cellular Field a few times to take in games there. After intensely following the White Sox for a couple of years, I have come to realize that the Cardinals were never my #1 team, they were just keeping the seat warm. I actually feel more like a South Sider than a Gateway guy when it comes to baseball. The White Sox rev up their fans 5 minutes before first pitch in a way that makes Busch Stadium pregame festivities pale by comparison.
But in all my years of following the White Sox -- most of them in the distant past -- I can never remember a year like this one. I have taken to calling the 2008 AL Central the "Hot Potato Division". Nobody seems to want to win the thing. Cleveland and Detroit were expecting to fight each other for it, and both got off to such disappointing starts that they have not been in it for a long time. Most pundits thought the White Sox and Twins would be fighting to stay out of the cellar rather than fighting each other for first place. And yet they both have become like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed in Rocky I: unable to put each other away and seemingly happy just to go the distance. The minute one team jumps ahead of the other one, the 2nd place team jumps back in front again. The White Sox once upon a time had a 6.5 game lead, back before the All-Star break, but that evaporated almost as quickly as it emerged. Since the All-Star break most leads have been of only a half-game. Occasionally there has been a 2.5 game lead, but the team that has it just can't stand prosperity.
The White Sox have also had one of the most comical, gut-wrenching first place runs I have ever witnessed. They have what has turned out to be a peculiar mix of personalities in the clubhouse, along with a manager who has exceeded even his own unusually high standards for controversy in a never-ending attempt to motivate his team. He has called his team out in the papers on numerous occasions, sparred with members of other teams, groused about his teams' second-class status in the city of Chicago (an aspect that was deeply ingrained in me growing up), and various other tactics almost always designed to take the heat off his players and put it on him. It worked well early on, but as the season has worn down to the end, these tactics don't seem to be working as well. We currently have a 4-man rotation that has been unstable, a bullpen consisting of precisely 2 reliable arms that cannot be used every day, and an offense that is sputtering.
And we have had to deal with those piranhas from the north, that evil team that plays in the most ungodly home field advantage in all of sports, where home team lucky bounces seem to happen right when they need them to, and where frankly the home team can fundamental you right to death. The White Sox are built for power. The Twins are built for speed. Power can have its dry spells. Bats go silent from time to time. Speed and good bat control are more constant. The White Sox are 7-2 against the Twins at US Cellular Field. The Twins are 8-1 against the White Sox in the Metrodome, or as I affectionately call it, "The World's largest garbage bag." The Twins are a collection of misfits plus two left-handed juggernauts who don't seem to care if a righty or a lefty is on the mound. We just visited the Metrodome with a 2.5 game lead, and everything that could possibly go wrong there did. We left smarting from a painful walk-off loss and a .5 game deficit with 3 games left on the schedule (4 for us, if you count a make-up game with Detroit that may be necessary) having to hope somehow that lowly Kansas City, the perennial doormat of the division could somehow go there and beat the Twins at least a couple of times, while we eek out a victory or two against the Indians at home in Chicago.
It seemed like a daunting task, but as fierce and pesky and annoying as the Twins are, they have so far been putty in the hands of the Royals, losing the first 2, one of which had their golden arm Francisco Liriano on the mound. In doing so, they have opened the door wide for us to retake the division lead at the most crucial time in the season: the finish line series.
And we have inexplicably refused to enter, giving up crooked numbers in the 5th inning two straight games against the Indians. Starters that have been fairly reliable over the entire season did not last long enough to make it an official game (and thus be in line for a victory), and in each game, the reliever brought in to stem the tide has thrown gasoline on the fire instead. In both games, the sputtering offense has come to life again, but fallen just short, while the bullpen takes any additional support runs and given them right back again. Tonight, a 4 run 8th reduced a 6-run deficit to a 2-run deficit, and by the time the bottom of the 9th rolled around, the deficit was back up to 6.
And so here we still sit, .5 game back going into the final day of the official season with still nothing resolved, looking back over a multitude of missed chances by both teams to run away with the division.
The White Sox live by the homer and die by the homer. They can't bunt or move runners over if their lives depend on it. And the pitching breaks down at the most inappropriate times. We are like whales. We fear for our lives, we seek to intimidate you by our size and strength and power. We move slowly, we have trouble executing a run-down and sometimes in running the bases properly. We are a mess. We panic all the time.
The Twins, by contrast, are a team that doesn't have much going for it. They can't overpower anyone. They can't pummel you to death. But they also do not panic, they are fearless, and they are relentless. They cannot be intimidated. They make plenty of mistakes, but no lead is safe with them. In the apt words of Bert Blyleven, color analyst for their TV broadcasts this past Thursday night, "They simply refuse to quit." Take a 5 run lead on them in the top of the 4th inning, and for the remaining 7 innings (starting with the bottom of the 4th), they will gnaw you to death. Piranhas are small, they are no match for whales or sharks, but they will pounce on any and all mistakes. They will make plenty of mistakes themselves, as they did in that 6-run 4th we had on Thursday, and you damn well better take advantage of them while you have them, because you know they will do the same. They have an infielder who one of these days will hurt himself sliding into first base, but against us every time he did it he was safe. He would have been safe by a mile if he had run through the base; I like to see such idiotic sliders actually pay for there mistakes by turning a hit into an out. Instead, he kicks up a lot of dirt, ignites the crowd, and leaves you shaking your head in disgust. It's really annoying.
And yet, as we see the Royals take the first 2 in the Metrodome, the Twins can certainly be bested, even at home. So while the Twins have to be laughing their asses off at the futility that is the White Sox, they also have to be kicking themselves for failing to capitalize on it. Brandon Duckworth goes tomorrow for KC instead of their ace Zach Grienke, but the White Sox have also been spared Cliff Lee. Where 10-4 Scott Baker goes for Minnesota, 14-12 Mark Buehrle goes for the White Sox. The latter seems to be the most reliable choice for a big-game pitcher, but even he has had his slumps this year.
And now in the final week of the season, one more thing added to the mix: the White Sox look like -- from the outside -- a team with a lot of internal turmoil, from the sulking switch-hitting left fielder grousing about riding the bench in Minnesota, to the flashy, temperamental shortstop who thinks he's the manager and can call out his teammates in public, to the mysterious pitcher who, since he joined the White Sox in 2006 has shown a lot of potential but somewhat disappointing follow-through and who was jawing with his catcher tonight in the midst of giving up 6 runs to the Indians ... the White Sox look like a team imploding from within at the worst possible moment.
It is hard to imagine either one of these teams going very far in the postseason. Ironically enough, either the Royals or the Indians are probably a lot more capable right now of representing the division in the postseason than the two teams who are still alive for the final spot in the American League.
But this has also been a very enjoyable and memorable season, which just adds to the agony, but which will come in another posting tomorrow or the next day.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
All-Star game continued...
Yesterday, Tom Verducci of SI was interviewed by Charlie Steiner of Baseball Beat (XM Radio channel 175, "MLB Home Plate"), and in the course of their conversation, the excitement and tension in this year's 15 inning All-Star game came up, and Verducci (originally a detractor of "This time it counts", by his own admission) pointed to the excitement in extra innings not only evident in the stands but also in the dugouts (where even players who had been replaced were still on pins and needles on the top step of the dugout) as proof beyond a shadow of a doubt that "This time it counts" is successful, and anyone who still doubts this is living in an alternate universe and doesn't know it. He might as well have used that famous line that is now regularly used with respect to the Wild Card: "The debate is over."
I found Cook delivers gutsy, memorable effort to be an excellent recap of those tense extra innings. Even better was Tenth inning provides All-Star drama. It is certainly thrilling to read how Miguel Tejada's play for the final out in the bottom of the 10th nearly brought down the house.
It is of course noteworthy that what brought down the house was not the AL (the home team) winning (in fact, this play was one of many that threatened to prolong the game past the endurance levels of both managers and probably many of the fans there), but simply a fantastic play. Let me underscore that again: a play that did not resolve this game that now "Counts!" I wonder if there's an object lesson there ....
At any rate, my response to Tom Verducci would be: I'm not going to seriously argue that Home Field advantage in the World Series hanging in the balance may have heightened the drama last Tuesday at Yankee Stadium. After all, if the players and the managers believe it makes a difference, then it effectively does. I would only mention that famous logical fallacy Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Just because the game was terribly exciting after Bud Selig made this "tweak" in the All-Star game, does not prove cause-and-effect. More importantly, it does not prove that this "tweak" was necessary to make the players try that hard to win. Surely there are still old time fans alive who can remember when the players went all out to win the All-Star game at a time when the game had zero impact on the post-season.
However, that has never been my argument against this gimmick, though I still question how big a deal it really is, since home field advantage only matters if the World Series reaches the 7th game.
My argument is this: what is so wrong about treating this game like the exhibition game that it is??? To approach it from the opposite end, it is still obvious that this game is still basically an exhibition game when Terry Francona inserts his 3rd pitcher to begin the 4th inning of a scoreless game, and replaced Alex Rodriguez with Joe Crede at about the same time (and I'm a White Sox fan so I loved seeing Crede in there so early). If A-Rod had somewhere else to be later in the evening, then maybe there should be some way to replace him from the start (If the game really matters, then players should be able to adjust their schedules around that game, don't you think?). And if a pitcher is only allowed to pitch one inning, then maybe he should be replaced too. After all, if the game really matters, then everyone on the team should show up ready to play for real, not with a list of exemptions a mile long.
Obviously this is still pretty much an exhibition game. To take what is pretty much an exhibition game and translate it into Home Field advantage in the World Series is illogical.
I found Cook delivers gutsy, memorable effort to be an excellent recap of those tense extra innings. Even better was Tenth inning provides All-Star drama. It is certainly thrilling to read how Miguel Tejada's play for the final out in the bottom of the 10th nearly brought down the house.
It is of course noteworthy that what brought down the house was not the AL (the home team) winning (in fact, this play was one of many that threatened to prolong the game past the endurance levels of both managers and probably many of the fans there), but simply a fantastic play. Let me underscore that again: a play that did not resolve this game that now "Counts!" I wonder if there's an object lesson there ....
At any rate, my response to Tom Verducci would be: I'm not going to seriously argue that Home Field advantage in the World Series hanging in the balance may have heightened the drama last Tuesday at Yankee Stadium. After all, if the players and the managers believe it makes a difference, then it effectively does. I would only mention that famous logical fallacy Post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Just because the game was terribly exciting after Bud Selig made this "tweak" in the All-Star game, does not prove cause-and-effect. More importantly, it does not prove that this "tweak" was necessary to make the players try that hard to win. Surely there are still old time fans alive who can remember when the players went all out to win the All-Star game at a time when the game had zero impact on the post-season.
However, that has never been my argument against this gimmick, though I still question how big a deal it really is, since home field advantage only matters if the World Series reaches the 7th game.
My argument is this: what is so wrong about treating this game like the exhibition game that it is??? To approach it from the opposite end, it is still obvious that this game is still basically an exhibition game when Terry Francona inserts his 3rd pitcher to begin the 4th inning of a scoreless game, and replaced Alex Rodriguez with Joe Crede at about the same time (and I'm a White Sox fan so I loved seeing Crede in there so early). If A-Rod had somewhere else to be later in the evening, then maybe there should be some way to replace him from the start (If the game really matters, then players should be able to adjust their schedules around that game, don't you think?). And if a pitcher is only allowed to pitch one inning, then maybe he should be replaced too. After all, if the game really matters, then everyone on the team should show up ready to play for real, not with a list of exemptions a mile long.
Obviously this is still pretty much an exhibition game. To take what is pretty much an exhibition game and translate it into Home Field advantage in the World Series is illogical.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I want my All-Star game back
Every year, Kyle Whelliston goes into a self-imposed exile, avoiding at all costs any mention of the Super Bowl, trying his best to live his life as if that particular game does not exist. I had thoughts of doing the same thing this year with the All-Star game, but I was not up to the challenge. I settled for abstaining from watching or listening to it, but I still had to follow the game with MLB Gameday.
Yes, I want my All-Star game back. You know -- back when it was an exhibition game and everyone recognized this unassailable fact. "This time it counts" has kind of ruined it for me. I confess the one reason why I did follow the game on-line as mentioned is because I wanted to see if the NL could somehow win the game for a change. Alternatively, I was fascinated to find out what method to which the NL would resort to blow this particular All-Star game.
When the game reached midnight and went into extra innings, I shut off my computer and went to sleep, dreaming of the game still ending in a tie. I was hoping to wake up the next morning to find out they were still playing. I would have laughed for a good five minutes.
1. Has anyone considered that to assign home-field advantage to the World Series based on the outcome of a game where one league has the home-field advantage is asinine?
2. When Bud "Darth Vader" Selig has to send foot soldiers down to each clubhouse in extra innings, saying, "Guys? You see that padlock on the clubhouse door? You're not getting out of here until one of you wins. You're here for the duration," you know the war has already been lost. You can't force people to play an exhibition game as if it is a one-game playoff for the final postseason slot if they don't naturally want to play it that way. Terry Francona used his third pitcher in the 4th inning (of a scoreless game) and took A-Rod out of the game in that same inning. You don't do things like that if the primary objective is to win the game.
3. The game used to count 30 or 40 years ago. It doesn't anymore. Get over it, Bud. When at least half your pitching staff arrives at the game with little notes pinned to their uniforms: "Dear Mr. Manager, please do not use my pitcher for more than 1 inning or more than 25 pitches, whichever comes first. Thanks very much, signed, Mr. Pitching coach", you can't possibly manage as if your primary objective is to win the game. Face it, the days when you could use each pitcher for 3 innings and guys like Willie Mays could play 15 innings are gone. You can't get them back.
4. It's a baseball game. The fundamental objective is to score more runs than the other team. If any player can't at least treat the game that way, they don't belong there in the first place. That said, there's really no reason to try to reinforce that imperative with band-aid measures like "This time it counts!" Of course Francona and Hurdle wanted to win the game, and so frankly do all the players involved in the game. But there simply are other concerns to be attended to as well, and you're never going to make winning at all costs the theme of this exhibition. So, why pretend to heighten the importance of the outcome -- beyond just the joy of winning the game all by itself?
5. While we're at it, tell me this: Why is it the utter end of the world if the game does end in a tie???? I mean, I get that this is no ordinary exhibition game (ordinary exhibition games end in a tie all the time, every year, by the way, and nobody cares). Sure, it's on the national stage, and it is a little embarrassing. But a catastrophe of biblical proportions?? I don't get that. If you're that ashamed of the 2002 All-Star game, there are things you can tweak about the rules of the All-Star game itself (somebody a long time ago suggested allowing a catcher that has been replaced return to the game in extra innings if necessary), without resorting to this nonsense about home-field advantage in the WS. That's an incentive where none is really needed. What are needed are some special rules that facilitate managing this special game to a desirable conclusion without altering the basic flavor of the game.
6. Billy Ripken was interviewed on MLB Home Plate (XM channel 175) and pinpointed something else that must change: we have to have contingency plans for all these players that show up with this or that restriction on their usage. He didn't make any concrete suggestions, but if a guy is not ready to go a reasonable amount in the game, there ought to be a way to say, "Ya know, come on up and soak up the atmosphere, enjoy your introduction, tip your hat to the fans, enjoy the parade, you earned it, but we're gonna put you on the disabled list for this game and bring someone else up for this game that can go longer so we're not so hamstrung."
7. Billy's interviewer had the temerity to ask if the excitement of this year's game was significantly enhanced by "This time it counts!" Essentially, Billy's response was: "Are you kidding me???" Well put, Billy. If you can't find yourself with one foot on the top step of the dugout feeling the tension while Aaron Cook gets out of a bases-loaded-no-outs situation in the bottom of the 9th, you're not a baseball player. If you are sitting in the stands in that moment feeling the least bit bored, you're not a baseball fan. "This time it counts!" adds absolutely nothing to the excitement that is inherent in the sport itself.
My goal next year is to pull a Kyle Whelliston for real this time: No voting, and completely ignoring baseball for 3 days in July. I don't know if I can pull it off, but Bud, if you're reading this and want me back as a fan of this game, give me my All-Star game back.
Yes, I want my All-Star game back. You know -- back when it was an exhibition game and everyone recognized this unassailable fact. "This time it counts" has kind of ruined it for me. I confess the one reason why I did follow the game on-line as mentioned is because I wanted to see if the NL could somehow win the game for a change. Alternatively, I was fascinated to find out what method to which the NL would resort to blow this particular All-Star game.
When the game reached midnight and went into extra innings, I shut off my computer and went to sleep, dreaming of the game still ending in a tie. I was hoping to wake up the next morning to find out they were still playing. I would have laughed for a good five minutes.
1. Has anyone considered that to assign home-field advantage to the World Series based on the outcome of a game where one league has the home-field advantage is asinine?
2. When Bud "Darth Vader" Selig has to send foot soldiers down to each clubhouse in extra innings, saying, "Guys? You see that padlock on the clubhouse door? You're not getting out of here until one of you wins. You're here for the duration," you know the war has already been lost. You can't force people to play an exhibition game as if it is a one-game playoff for the final postseason slot if they don't naturally want to play it that way. Terry Francona used his third pitcher in the 4th inning (of a scoreless game) and took A-Rod out of the game in that same inning. You don't do things like that if the primary objective is to win the game.
3. The game used to count 30 or 40 years ago. It doesn't anymore. Get over it, Bud. When at least half your pitching staff arrives at the game with little notes pinned to their uniforms: "Dear Mr. Manager, please do not use my pitcher for more than 1 inning or more than 25 pitches, whichever comes first. Thanks very much, signed, Mr. Pitching coach", you can't possibly manage as if your primary objective is to win the game. Face it, the days when you could use each pitcher for 3 innings and guys like Willie Mays could play 15 innings are gone. You can't get them back.
4. It's a baseball game. The fundamental objective is to score more runs than the other team. If any player can't at least treat the game that way, they don't belong there in the first place. That said, there's really no reason to try to reinforce that imperative with band-aid measures like "This time it counts!" Of course Francona and Hurdle wanted to win the game, and so frankly do all the players involved in the game. But there simply are other concerns to be attended to as well, and you're never going to make winning at all costs the theme of this exhibition. So, why pretend to heighten the importance of the outcome -- beyond just the joy of winning the game all by itself?
5. While we're at it, tell me this: Why is it the utter end of the world if the game does end in a tie???? I mean, I get that this is no ordinary exhibition game (ordinary exhibition games end in a tie all the time, every year, by the way, and nobody cares). Sure, it's on the national stage, and it is a little embarrassing. But a catastrophe of biblical proportions?? I don't get that. If you're that ashamed of the 2002 All-Star game, there are things you can tweak about the rules of the All-Star game itself (somebody a long time ago suggested allowing a catcher that has been replaced return to the game in extra innings if necessary), without resorting to this nonsense about home-field advantage in the WS. That's an incentive where none is really needed. What are needed are some special rules that facilitate managing this special game to a desirable conclusion without altering the basic flavor of the game.
6. Billy Ripken was interviewed on MLB Home Plate (XM channel 175) and pinpointed something else that must change: we have to have contingency plans for all these players that show up with this or that restriction on their usage. He didn't make any concrete suggestions, but if a guy is not ready to go a reasonable amount in the game, there ought to be a way to say, "Ya know, come on up and soak up the atmosphere, enjoy your introduction, tip your hat to the fans, enjoy the parade, you earned it, but we're gonna put you on the disabled list for this game and bring someone else up for this game that can go longer so we're not so hamstrung."
7. Billy's interviewer had the temerity to ask if the excitement of this year's game was significantly enhanced by "This time it counts!" Essentially, Billy's response was: "Are you kidding me???" Well put, Billy. If you can't find yourself with one foot on the top step of the dugout feeling the tension while Aaron Cook gets out of a bases-loaded-no-outs situation in the bottom of the 9th, you're not a baseball player. If you are sitting in the stands in that moment feeling the least bit bored, you're not a baseball fan. "This time it counts!" adds absolutely nothing to the excitement that is inherent in the sport itself.
My goal next year is to pull a Kyle Whelliston for real this time: No voting, and completely ignoring baseball for 3 days in July. I don't know if I can pull it off, but Bud, if you're reading this and want me back as a fan of this game, give me my All-Star game back.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Requiem for adverbs
"This team is doing things different than they used to ..."
"He's throwing the ball pretty good right now ..."
How often have I heard statements like these recently?
I can only guess one of two things has happened: (1) the adverbs are on strike, (2) the adjectives banded together and started dressing up like adverbs and nobody noticed the difference.
I need to point out a couple of things: (1) In my experience, the main culprits have not been athletes, for whom fluent communication is not necessarily what they are supposed to major in, but rather the play-by-play announcers and sports analysts (for whom fluent communication is what they are supposed to major in), (2) these statements I'm hearing are coming from people for whom English is their first language.
I was just watching the highlights for tonight's MLB games, and George Grande, "a 39-year veteran of the broadcasting business" and currently the TV voice of the Cincinnati Reds, announced Jerry Hairston's 3rd inning home run, "He hit it pretty good to left..."
George, try this with me: "He hit it pretty well to left..." He announced Griffey's walk-off home run the same way.
Now, I certainly do not expect George, or anyone else calling a home run to double-check a grammar manual while the home run ball flies out of the park and the moment of excitement is gone forever. Obviously, fluent communication is something you learn ahead of time so that it becomes second nature, even in the heat of the moment. I'm thinking that the sports journalism community as a whole has been skipping the lessons on adverbs for some time now.
Maybe we need Tom Lehrer to come out of retirement and help us with his L-Y song:
"You're wearing your squeaky shoes
And right there taking a snooze
Is a tiger, so how do you walk on by?..."
I can just hear a sports announcer answer: "real quiet-like." Ugh. I actually can easily imagine hearing George Grande or John Rooney or Karl Ravech not only using an adjective to describe the verb "walk", but compounding the offense by using the adjective "real" to describe the adjective-masquerading-as-an-adverb "quiet" (the "-like" is added as an unconscious admission that "quiet" is the wrong form to use).
"He's throwing the ball pretty good right now ..."
How often have I heard statements like these recently?
I can only guess one of two things has happened: (1) the adverbs are on strike, (2) the adjectives banded together and started dressing up like adverbs and nobody noticed the difference.
I need to point out a couple of things: (1) In my experience, the main culprits have not been athletes, for whom fluent communication is not necessarily what they are supposed to major in, but rather the play-by-play announcers and sports analysts (for whom fluent communication is what they are supposed to major in), (2) these statements I'm hearing are coming from people for whom English is their first language.
I was just watching the highlights for tonight's MLB games, and George Grande, "a 39-year veteran of the broadcasting business" and currently the TV voice of the Cincinnati Reds, announced Jerry Hairston's 3rd inning home run, "He hit it pretty good to left..."
George, try this with me: "He hit it pretty well to left..." He announced Griffey's walk-off home run the same way.
Now, I certainly do not expect George, or anyone else calling a home run to double-check a grammar manual while the home run ball flies out of the park and the moment of excitement is gone forever. Obviously, fluent communication is something you learn ahead of time so that it becomes second nature, even in the heat of the moment. I'm thinking that the sports journalism community as a whole has been skipping the lessons on adverbs for some time now.
Maybe we need Tom Lehrer to come out of retirement and help us with his L-Y song:
"You're wearing your squeaky shoes
And right there taking a snooze
Is a tiger, so how do you walk on by?..."
I can just hear a sports announcer answer: "real quiet-like." Ugh. I actually can easily imagine hearing George Grande or John Rooney or Karl Ravech not only using an adjective to describe the verb "walk", but compounding the offense by using the adjective "real" to describe the adjective-masquerading-as-an-adverb "quiet" (the "-like" is added as an unconscious admission that "quiet" is the wrong form to use).
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