Something which I have been meaning to do for a while, if only for the sheer hell of it. I thought I would rank each team in Major League Baseball according to my personal preferences, as if this means a flying crap. But hey, we all have our vanity, and I'm bored on Saturday night after watching a Rockies win, which equals this staggering work of heartbreaking genius. The Rockies go for the sweep over the Astros, and a 6-3 record on a 9-game, 10-day road trip (well, actually, more like a 10.5 game road trip once you add in all the extra innings vs. the Padres) with Ubaldo Jimenez matching up with old friend Shawn Chacon. And by friend, I really mean, used to kick things and yell while he was haplessly attempting to ''close" games. He went 1-9 as a closer one year, and Hurdle kept trotting him out there. Oy.
Anyway.
The Fortunate Five
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
The Tolerable Ten
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
The Dubious Decade
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
The Terrible Tier
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
Showing posts with label New York Yankees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Yankees. Show all posts
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Love, Hate, Tolerate: The Lucky and the Luckless
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
In Which Some Goes Wrong and More Goes Right
The Rockies confound me. Not that I think they'll really make the playoffs, that coffin was pretty much nailed shut by the disastrous umpiring and Jeff Francis's horrible start in Philadelphia, and their playoff odds currently stand at an oh-so-overwhelming 2.5%. After struggling to a split in the City of (Not-So) Brotherly Love, they went home and promptly lost two of three to the Marlins, who entered the series 20 games south of .500 to pretty much put the kibosh on any talk of pulling out a last-minute wild card. Then they faced their direct combatants in the standings, the Dodgers, who entered a four-game series at Coors (making up for a July rainout, the teams played a doubleheader last night) with a 13% chance of making the playoffs. So if the Rockies couldn't make the playoffs themselves, at least they could spoil it for the Dodgers, who have confounded them all season and have been responsible for their fair share of purple-and-black woe.
The Rox won the first game of the doubleheader in traditional fashion -- a strong performance from ace Francis (winning his 16th game of the season to tie for the franchise record, and setting a personal best of 10 strikeouts -- one-upping his 9-K performance from June 20 against the Yankees). They got RBIs from big man Matt Holliday and Todd Helton, and Brian Fuentes the much-maligned and the amazing Manny Corpas finished off the game by retiring the final six Dodgers batters in order. (Manny is 15-for-15 in save chances since taking over for Fuentes, who is fine as a setup guy but completely lacks the bulldog mentality needed to finish off save chances, especially in tough situations). This is a very patchwork bullpen showing signs of fatigue and overuse -- Matt Herges lost his rabbit foot and pixie dust, probably in unison, to explain his sudden nose-dive, and Affeldt has an ERA over 6.00 since the All-Star Break. Julio was serviceable earlier, even good, but the grind of the season caught up with him as well and he's now giving up runs like a sieve every time he's out there. Four or five months' worth of rest will be good for everyone, my mental state included. Boy, it's hard rooting for (and watching the hijinks of) this team day in and day out, but hey, it's not like I'm going to stop now.
Game 2, the nightcap, was far more dramatic, a thrilling, agonizing, and ultimately glorious see-saw of a battle. Fill-in starter Mark Redman naturally permitted three first-inning runs before the Rockies roared out of the gate against David Wells and got them right back to tie it at 3. Redman wasn't content in that state and had to turn it into a deficit again; the Rox went down 4-3 and stayed that way until the bottom of the fifth, in which Mad Matt Holliday struck again. After being rewarded for his insane play (six homers in seven days, 11 RBI) by being named the NL Player of the Week for the second time this season (at least he now has an extra luxury watch to give as a present) he went out and did it again, bashing a no-doubt moonshot of a two-run homer to edge the Rockies ahead to 5-4.
The lead didn't last long. Herges, now notably lacking his lucky charms and/or lucky underwear, immediately permitted a game-tying homer to James Loney in the top of the sixth. After he allowed the next two batters to reach via walk and single, Affeldt came in and managed to get two outs, falsely raising hopes that he would get out of it unscathed. Not so; the man is a former Kansas City Royal, after all. He coughed up a two-run triple to Tony Abreu, yanking the Dodgers up 7-5, and while the damage was minimized (for that inning, at least) it wasn't a good sign. Every game, as mentioned, is now must-win territory for the Rockies, and they've made it very hard on themselves by consistently losing to teams they should beat, while confoundingly beating teams they should lose to. In fact, they seem to play to the level of their competition -- they can look insipid, lifeless, and flat while dropping 3 of 4 to the Nationals (getting shut out in each of their losses) only to turn around and score 34 runs in the course of a three-game sweep of the Mets. It happens all the time. Some teams' fans look forward to the cupcake portion of their schedule, yet we as Rockies fans actually want them to be facing the stronger teams since they seem to play better when they do.
But never mind the digression. Jorge Julio came in for one inning, miraculously escaped, and then for some bewildering reason (he's already overworked and ineffective) was left out for a second one. He promptly yielded a solo shot to All-Star catcher Russell Martin to stretch the deficit to 8-5 going to the bottom of the eighth, and the Rockies had a tough task ahead of them in trying to crack Jonathan Broxton and Takashi Saito. Broxton has been solid as a setup man for the Bastards in Blue, and closer Saito's numbers are unworldly -- before last night, 39 for 42 in save chances, a 1.21 ERA, four homers permitted all year, and five games, and five saves, against the Rockies, who were 0-for-14 against him. You shall soon see the point of this numerology, but in the meantime...
The Rockies started the bottom of the eighth on a high note when Garrett Atkins fought off seven pitches and cracked a clean single to center. Then Ryan Spilborghs the super-sub stepped up and followed with his third hit of the night -- this one just happened to leave the yard and push the Rockies to within 8-7. Unfortunately, they couldn't get more that inning, as pinch-hitters Brad Hawpe and Yorvit Torrealba struck out, and after a quick and clean top of the ninth from a suddenly rejuvenated Ryan Speier, they headed to the bottom of the frame down one run against an elite closer who'd owned them all year.
Omar Quintanilla hit a hard shot, but unfortunately right at Saito, who snagged it for the first out. Troy Tulowitzki was called out on a questionable strike for the second out, leaving the bases empty and the Rockies down to their last gasp. But they had the big men coming up -- there was still a hope, even faint and flickering, and Holliday's fourth hit of the game, a sharp single to right, brought up Todd Helton, who's playing meaningful games in September for the first time in his long and illustrious career. Despite hitting well through the stretch, he had been 0-4 that night with a rally-killing double play, and his power numbers have taken a swan dive in general -- he only had 14 HR coming up to that at-bat.
Saito started with a ball; Helton fouled off pitches twice before lighting into one of Saito's nasty sliders and sending it over the scoreboard in right field, keeling Coors into delirium and Todd sprinting around the bases like a kid in little league. As he rounded third and headed for the plate, he ripped off his helmet, let out a roar of jubilation, and stage-dived into a mob of ecstatic teammates who hopped up and down, hugged, and thumped madly -- I have never seen Helton, the reserved veteran, so absolutely psyched. He'd just hit 300 career homers earlier, but No. 301 had to top them all -- it was a moment that Holliday, who jumped in the air and pumped both fists as the ball left the yard, said he'd never forget. It was an amazing finish, almost as great as their comeback on my birthday, an amazing moment for a veteran who's ground through so many disappointing and empty Septembers, to hit one that meant so much.
My sister was at this game with our friend Betsy (I have never been so jealous) and she said the atmosphere was amazing. Everyone was screaming, leapt to their feet when the ball left the yard, and she said she hugged Betsy, high-fived a complete stranger, and did a little dance as she was leaving -- the crowd roared and treated Helton to his second career curtain call, the other coming earlier this week. Outside the stadium, people were yelling, screaming, high-fiving as well -- if nothing else, even if this year closes like all the other ones, it is not the same. The Rockies have proven what this nucleus has the capability to do, and they have gotten the city of Denver to fall in love with them again. It has been (and still is) Broncos country for so very long that the Rockies, once they stopped being the new thing in town, failed to draw 60,000+ a night, and started all the abysmal seasons, were an afterthought, occasionally parodied or despaired by an ever-dwindling fanbase. But the city is genuinely excited about and in love with its baseball team again, and that just makes me so happy -- the thought of all this gives me the chills. Ah, September. Fall baseball. It's a beautiful thing.
On another Rockies note, as we thank the guys for this great season and eagerly anticipate 2008, the team has announced their intention to try super-prospect Ian Stewart at second base. I, for one, am fully behind this idea. The one (well, actually, two) problems being a) Stewart hasn't played second base since Little League, and b) at 6-3 and 215 lbs, is a big guy and only getting bigger. If he actually did make the conversion, he'd be the biggest 2B in the league, beating out Jeff Kent (6-2, 210) by an inch and five pounds. Although this probably isn't going to work, I find myself rooting very hard for it to somehow come through. First, it would give us an in-house solution to the second base vacancy, as Kaz Matsui may or may not be re-signed, and secondly, it would allow us to keep Garrett Atkins' bat. Atkins' defense at third is an iffy proposition, and since he's a natural first baseman, you'd have two defenders out of position in the infield -- Atkins at third and Stewart at second. However, the infield would have absolutely astronomic offensive totals (Helton-Stewart-Tulowitzki-Atkins is a serious helping of firepower) and would find a way to accommodate Helton, Stewart, and Atkins at once, which otherwise isn't possible; Atkins or Helton would have to be traded this off-season.
I regularly defend Atkins (or at least his offense, as his defense makes me roll my eyes too) and it's important to note that .290/23/103 is not chump change. Stewart replicating that in his rookie season would be a feat for the ages (not everyone is Tulowitzki here, people ;) ) and for next year at least, there would be a significant offensive drop-off with a still-aging Helton and a newbie Stewart. While Ian is certainly capable of this production, it may not come for a few years, and by that time, Holliday will have hit free agency and the Devil will have garnered him some insane contract with a high-profile East Coast team. If the Rockies really want to compete, 2008 and 2009 may be their best shots to do so if they keep the talented nucleus intact. They still need all that offensive cannonade as long as they keep playing in Denver and their pitchers hiccup accordingly, humidor or not, and there is no doubt Atkins knows how to hit. Damn, this Stewart-at-second is such a pipe dream... but please work. Please?
The other drum I must beat regards the candidacy of Matt Holliday and Troy Tulowitzki for Most Valuable Player and Rookie of the Year awards. If they don't win, or at least finish in the top three, then it's a blatant act of highway robbery that yet again focuses on the popular markets instead of actual talent. The field of potential winners is deep, there is an elite crop of talent to deal with this year, but the numbers stack up every which way (and Tulo should get a Gold Glove as well, leading his position in fielding metrics).
Matt Holliday (season to date)
AB: 597
H: 202
BA: .338
HR: 33
R: 109
RBI: 126
OBP: .400
SLG: .601
OPS: 1.001
2B: 48
3B: 5
That is a monster season. Those numbers you see are good for first in the NL for batting average and RBI, third for slugging percentage, fourth for homers, OPS, runs, and eighth in on-base percentage. Not to mention that he's drastically improved his defense in left field. He leads the NL with 281 putouts, ranks third with a .990 fielding percentage (three errors in 291 chances) and second with a .912 zone rating, which measures how many balls a fielder is able to get to. If you don't believe me, just check out all the defensive video highlights he has this year -- it used to be all homers and they skated over the iffy fielding stats. He is a complete player, not at all a product of Coors (and that drives me nuts. How about bandboxes like Cincinnati, Arlington, and Philadelphia -- where Holliday hit four homers? Do those somehow count less?) You'd think, and yet people discount Rockies players out of hand because they play in Denver. Take a look at the numbers, people. Holliday received the most votes by his fellow players to the All-Star Game. They know what a wrecking ball he is, even if the fans at large haven't caught on yet.
And as for Tulo, his chief competition appears to be Ryan Braun, who has him beat in precisely two categories, home runs (30 to 21) and batting average (.323 to .295). Everywhere else, the numbers point to Tulo in a walk. He has more doubles (27 to 22) more runs scored (89 to 78) more RBIs (89 to 83) and half as many errors. Tulo has been a catalyst for the team after starting sub-Mendoza, set the NL record for homers by a rookie shortstop, and plays Gold Glove-worthy defense. His howitzer of an arm leads to regular swollen thumbs for first baseman Helton, and he can hit 90 with regularity on blistering throws from deep in the hole; it's just a joy to watch him play. Braun's defense, by comparison, can charitably be rated as poor. He has 22 errors, a sub-.900 fielding percentage, and achieves the difficult task of making Atkins (13 errors) look like Brooks Robinson. BBWAA writers, and ROY voters, love the surface offensive numbers, and it's true that Braun can mash like nobody's business and came up on May 25, instead of starting the season like Tulo has. However, if you want to rate the complete player, the true sparkplug and young star of a contending team, it's Tulo. And I'm not even saying this because of my permanent purple-colored glasses (or maybe I am). Troy puts in tremendous work each and every day, will go above and beyond the pale to get a win, and refuses to settle for losing or mediocrity. Simply put, he's the fire and inspiration the Rockies have been lacking for so long, and deserves to be rewarded for it.
I know this has been a long post already, but I would like to close by noting that since I am unable to attend Rockies games (clearly) I have made up (sort of) for the lack by attending two games, one Mets and one Yankees, since my return to school. (I will also be going to either one or two Mets games next week). Both times I went with a guy friend, and I tell you... I've been generally indifferent about the Mets, but the Yankees are seriously enough to make me almost actively like them. I can root for the Mets without feeling unclean (and I had to, since the one game I was at, they were playing Philly, and lost anyway.... the Mets are following the 2006 Cardinals script for the postseason by choking and threatening to squander it all before backing into the playoffs). The Yankees and their fans, however, are all such douchebags. They have an astounding arrogance and ignorance, strut around like they own the place (yeah, yeah, we've already heard about your 26 fucking championships, want to talk about the years since you've won your last one? 2004, for example? God, I hope there's a Curse of A-Rod or something that will prevent them from winning for another 79 years... such poetic justice, they could suffer through every inch of the agony that the Red Sox did).
I went to the Yankees/Orioles games with my friend Nick, and while we admittedly asked for it by sitting in the bleachers, the fans sang "Why Are You Gay?" to him to the tune of "YMCA," and incessantly chanted, "Ug-ly shirt!" pointing at his Jeremy Guthrie T-shirt. (I was wearing my Rox stuff -- Atkins shirt, Rockies jacket and hat, and was hoping so very much that they'd heckle me about rooting for a bad team, but they probably don't even remember that the Rockies exist, and maybe had enough sense to realize that I could, you know, point out that we swept them). Don't get me wrong, both of us found the heckling very amusing, but only in the way you find an irretrievably stupid person funny; because they just think they know so much and know actually nothing at all. Perhaps it's a rite of passage, but they are stupid, aggressively stupid, and strut around like they're still the kings of the world. The late-90's Yankees dynasty has passed, people, and besides, you root for the Evil Empire/Chevy/GMC of baseball, headed by an asshole owner and fronted by a calvacade of "twenty-five guys/twenty-five cabs" overpaid primadonnas. Oooh. Don't get me onto the topic of the Yankees, clearly; there is so much hatred here. Don't try to justify liking the Yankees to me. I understand that you're from New York so they're your hometown team, and they win a lot and it's fun to root for a winner, but that's it. And what about all the Yankees "fans" that have never even been to NY? They don't have an excuse at all. They are shameless front-runners, and should be ritually crucified as a warning to all others. (Same goes for non-resident Red Sox and Cubs fans as well. Besides, I don't even get why you'd want to root for the Cubs if you were from Chicago, much less anywhere else. See my diatribe against Cubs fans below).
In contrast, the Mets seem like more fun, have a few players that I could even like, and even though planes roar overhead every half-hour, their much-maligned Shea is less of a dump than the historic but shitty Stadium. Not that I'm going to suddenly start rooting for them, but if you had to make me pick a sports team from my adopted home state with a gun to my head, I'd take the Mets in a (New York) minute. I'm looking forward to going with Mary and possibly Steve (remember them?) next week, and will probably clap for the Mets since a) I'll be in Shea anyway, and b) who the hell wants to cheer for the Nationals? Even those from D.C.? Seriously.
Okay. Long post over. I feel a little better now. Or maybe I don't. I hate the Yankees. Oh well. I fiercely adore my Rockies, even though they shave years off my life, inflate my blood pressure, and ruin my emotional state, and so that shall do. Josh Fogg vs. Brad Penny tonight (Fogg always seems to draw the toughest assignment from the opposing team) as the Rockies try to find their oft-missing killer instinct and put the finishing smackdown on the Dodgers.
Go Rox!
The Rox won the first game of the doubleheader in traditional fashion -- a strong performance from ace Francis (winning his 16th game of the season to tie for the franchise record, and setting a personal best of 10 strikeouts -- one-upping his 9-K performance from June 20 against the Yankees). They got RBIs from big man Matt Holliday and Todd Helton, and Brian Fuentes the much-maligned and the amazing Manny Corpas finished off the game by retiring the final six Dodgers batters in order. (Manny is 15-for-15 in save chances since taking over for Fuentes, who is fine as a setup guy but completely lacks the bulldog mentality needed to finish off save chances, especially in tough situations). This is a very patchwork bullpen showing signs of fatigue and overuse -- Matt Herges lost his rabbit foot and pixie dust, probably in unison, to explain his sudden nose-dive, and Affeldt has an ERA over 6.00 since the All-Star Break. Julio was serviceable earlier, even good, but the grind of the season caught up with him as well and he's now giving up runs like a sieve every time he's out there. Four or five months' worth of rest will be good for everyone, my mental state included. Boy, it's hard rooting for (and watching the hijinks of) this team day in and day out, but hey, it's not like I'm going to stop now.
Game 2, the nightcap, was far more dramatic, a thrilling, agonizing, and ultimately glorious see-saw of a battle. Fill-in starter Mark Redman naturally permitted three first-inning runs before the Rockies roared out of the gate against David Wells and got them right back to tie it at 3. Redman wasn't content in that state and had to turn it into a deficit again; the Rox went down 4-3 and stayed that way until the bottom of the fifth, in which Mad Matt Holliday struck again. After being rewarded for his insane play (six homers in seven days, 11 RBI) by being named the NL Player of the Week for the second time this season (at least he now has an extra luxury watch to give as a present) he went out and did it again, bashing a no-doubt moonshot of a two-run homer to edge the Rockies ahead to 5-4.
The lead didn't last long. Herges, now notably lacking his lucky charms and/or lucky underwear, immediately permitted a game-tying homer to James Loney in the top of the sixth. After he allowed the next two batters to reach via walk and single, Affeldt came in and managed to get two outs, falsely raising hopes that he would get out of it unscathed. Not so; the man is a former Kansas City Royal, after all. He coughed up a two-run triple to Tony Abreu, yanking the Dodgers up 7-5, and while the damage was minimized (for that inning, at least) it wasn't a good sign. Every game, as mentioned, is now must-win territory for the Rockies, and they've made it very hard on themselves by consistently losing to teams they should beat, while confoundingly beating teams they should lose to. In fact, they seem to play to the level of their competition -- they can look insipid, lifeless, and flat while dropping 3 of 4 to the Nationals (getting shut out in each of their losses) only to turn around and score 34 runs in the course of a three-game sweep of the Mets. It happens all the time. Some teams' fans look forward to the cupcake portion of their schedule, yet we as Rockies fans actually want them to be facing the stronger teams since they seem to play better when they do.
But never mind the digression. Jorge Julio came in for one inning, miraculously escaped, and then for some bewildering reason (he's already overworked and ineffective) was left out for a second one. He promptly yielded a solo shot to All-Star catcher Russell Martin to stretch the deficit to 8-5 going to the bottom of the eighth, and the Rockies had a tough task ahead of them in trying to crack Jonathan Broxton and Takashi Saito. Broxton has been solid as a setup man for the Bastards in Blue, and closer Saito's numbers are unworldly -- before last night, 39 for 42 in save chances, a 1.21 ERA, four homers permitted all year, and five games, and five saves, against the Rockies, who were 0-for-14 against him. You shall soon see the point of this numerology, but in the meantime...
The Rockies started the bottom of the eighth on a high note when Garrett Atkins fought off seven pitches and cracked a clean single to center. Then Ryan Spilborghs the super-sub stepped up and followed with his third hit of the night -- this one just happened to leave the yard and push the Rockies to within 8-7. Unfortunately, they couldn't get more that inning, as pinch-hitters Brad Hawpe and Yorvit Torrealba struck out, and after a quick and clean top of the ninth from a suddenly rejuvenated Ryan Speier, they headed to the bottom of the frame down one run against an elite closer who'd owned them all year.
Omar Quintanilla hit a hard shot, but unfortunately right at Saito, who snagged it for the first out. Troy Tulowitzki was called out on a questionable strike for the second out, leaving the bases empty and the Rockies down to their last gasp. But they had the big men coming up -- there was still a hope, even faint and flickering, and Holliday's fourth hit of the game, a sharp single to right, brought up Todd Helton, who's playing meaningful games in September for the first time in his long and illustrious career. Despite hitting well through the stretch, he had been 0-4 that night with a rally-killing double play, and his power numbers have taken a swan dive in general -- he only had 14 HR coming up to that at-bat.
Saito started with a ball; Helton fouled off pitches twice before lighting into one of Saito's nasty sliders and sending it over the scoreboard in right field, keeling Coors into delirium and Todd sprinting around the bases like a kid in little league. As he rounded third and headed for the plate, he ripped off his helmet, let out a roar of jubilation, and stage-dived into a mob of ecstatic teammates who hopped up and down, hugged, and thumped madly -- I have never seen Helton, the reserved veteran, so absolutely psyched. He'd just hit 300 career homers earlier, but No. 301 had to top them all -- it was a moment that Holliday, who jumped in the air and pumped both fists as the ball left the yard, said he'd never forget. It was an amazing finish, almost as great as their comeback on my birthday, an amazing moment for a veteran who's ground through so many disappointing and empty Septembers, to hit one that meant so much.
My sister was at this game with our friend Betsy (I have never been so jealous) and she said the atmosphere was amazing. Everyone was screaming, leapt to their feet when the ball left the yard, and she said she hugged Betsy, high-fived a complete stranger, and did a little dance as she was leaving -- the crowd roared and treated Helton to his second career curtain call, the other coming earlier this week. Outside the stadium, people were yelling, screaming, high-fiving as well -- if nothing else, even if this year closes like all the other ones, it is not the same. The Rockies have proven what this nucleus has the capability to do, and they have gotten the city of Denver to fall in love with them again. It has been (and still is) Broncos country for so very long that the Rockies, once they stopped being the new thing in town, failed to draw 60,000+ a night, and started all the abysmal seasons, were an afterthought, occasionally parodied or despaired by an ever-dwindling fanbase. But the city is genuinely excited about and in love with its baseball team again, and that just makes me so happy -- the thought of all this gives me the chills. Ah, September. Fall baseball. It's a beautiful thing.
On another Rockies note, as we thank the guys for this great season and eagerly anticipate 2008, the team has announced their intention to try super-prospect Ian Stewart at second base. I, for one, am fully behind this idea. The one (well, actually, two) problems being a) Stewart hasn't played second base since Little League, and b) at 6-3 and 215 lbs, is a big guy and only getting bigger. If he actually did make the conversion, he'd be the biggest 2B in the league, beating out Jeff Kent (6-2, 210) by an inch and five pounds. Although this probably isn't going to work, I find myself rooting very hard for it to somehow come through. First, it would give us an in-house solution to the second base vacancy, as Kaz Matsui may or may not be re-signed, and secondly, it would allow us to keep Garrett Atkins' bat. Atkins' defense at third is an iffy proposition, and since he's a natural first baseman, you'd have two defenders out of position in the infield -- Atkins at third and Stewart at second. However, the infield would have absolutely astronomic offensive totals (Helton-Stewart-Tulowitzki-Atkins is a serious helping of firepower) and would find a way to accommodate Helton, Stewart, and Atkins at once, which otherwise isn't possible; Atkins or Helton would have to be traded this off-season.
I regularly defend Atkins (or at least his offense, as his defense makes me roll my eyes too) and it's important to note that .290/23/103 is not chump change. Stewart replicating that in his rookie season would be a feat for the ages (not everyone is Tulowitzki here, people ;) ) and for next year at least, there would be a significant offensive drop-off with a still-aging Helton and a newbie Stewart. While Ian is certainly capable of this production, it may not come for a few years, and by that time, Holliday will have hit free agency and the Devil will have garnered him some insane contract with a high-profile East Coast team. If the Rockies really want to compete, 2008 and 2009 may be their best shots to do so if they keep the talented nucleus intact. They still need all that offensive cannonade as long as they keep playing in Denver and their pitchers hiccup accordingly, humidor or not, and there is no doubt Atkins knows how to hit. Damn, this Stewart-at-second is such a pipe dream... but please work. Please?
The other drum I must beat regards the candidacy of Matt Holliday and Troy Tulowitzki for Most Valuable Player and Rookie of the Year awards. If they don't win, or at least finish in the top three, then it's a blatant act of highway robbery that yet again focuses on the popular markets instead of actual talent. The field of potential winners is deep, there is an elite crop of talent to deal with this year, but the numbers stack up every which way (and Tulo should get a Gold Glove as well, leading his position in fielding metrics).
Matt Holliday (season to date)
AB: 597
H: 202
BA: .338
HR: 33
R: 109
RBI: 126
OBP: .400
SLG: .601
OPS: 1.001
2B: 48
3B: 5
That is a monster season. Those numbers you see are good for first in the NL for batting average and RBI, third for slugging percentage, fourth for homers, OPS, runs, and eighth in on-base percentage. Not to mention that he's drastically improved his defense in left field. He leads the NL with 281 putouts, ranks third with a .990 fielding percentage (three errors in 291 chances) and second with a .912 zone rating, which measures how many balls a fielder is able to get to. If you don't believe me, just check out all the defensive video highlights he has this year -- it used to be all homers and they skated over the iffy fielding stats. He is a complete player, not at all a product of Coors (and that drives me nuts. How about bandboxes like Cincinnati, Arlington, and Philadelphia -- where Holliday hit four homers? Do those somehow count less?) You'd think, and yet people discount Rockies players out of hand because they play in Denver. Take a look at the numbers, people. Holliday received the most votes by his fellow players to the All-Star Game. They know what a wrecking ball he is, even if the fans at large haven't caught on yet.
And as for Tulo, his chief competition appears to be Ryan Braun, who has him beat in precisely two categories, home runs (30 to 21) and batting average (.323 to .295). Everywhere else, the numbers point to Tulo in a walk. He has more doubles (27 to 22) more runs scored (89 to 78) more RBIs (89 to 83) and half as many errors. Tulo has been a catalyst for the team after starting sub-Mendoza, set the NL record for homers by a rookie shortstop, and plays Gold Glove-worthy defense. His howitzer of an arm leads to regular swollen thumbs for first baseman Helton, and he can hit 90 with regularity on blistering throws from deep in the hole; it's just a joy to watch him play. Braun's defense, by comparison, can charitably be rated as poor. He has 22 errors, a sub-.900 fielding percentage, and achieves the difficult task of making Atkins (13 errors) look like Brooks Robinson. BBWAA writers, and ROY voters, love the surface offensive numbers, and it's true that Braun can mash like nobody's business and came up on May 25, instead of starting the season like Tulo has. However, if you want to rate the complete player, the true sparkplug and young star of a contending team, it's Tulo. And I'm not even saying this because of my permanent purple-colored glasses (or maybe I am). Troy puts in tremendous work each and every day, will go above and beyond the pale to get a win, and refuses to settle for losing or mediocrity. Simply put, he's the fire and inspiration the Rockies have been lacking for so long, and deserves to be rewarded for it.
I know this has been a long post already, but I would like to close by noting that since I am unable to attend Rockies games (clearly) I have made up (sort of) for the lack by attending two games, one Mets and one Yankees, since my return to school. (I will also be going to either one or two Mets games next week). Both times I went with a guy friend, and I tell you... I've been generally indifferent about the Mets, but the Yankees are seriously enough to make me almost actively like them. I can root for the Mets without feeling unclean (and I had to, since the one game I was at, they were playing Philly, and lost anyway.... the Mets are following the 2006 Cardinals script for the postseason by choking and threatening to squander it all before backing into the playoffs). The Yankees and their fans, however, are all such douchebags. They have an astounding arrogance and ignorance, strut around like they own the place (yeah, yeah, we've already heard about your 26 fucking championships, want to talk about the years since you've won your last one? 2004, for example? God, I hope there's a Curse of A-Rod or something that will prevent them from winning for another 79 years... such poetic justice, they could suffer through every inch of the agony that the Red Sox did).
I went to the Yankees/Orioles games with my friend Nick, and while we admittedly asked for it by sitting in the bleachers, the fans sang "Why Are You Gay?" to him to the tune of "YMCA," and incessantly chanted, "Ug-ly shirt!" pointing at his Jeremy Guthrie T-shirt. (I was wearing my Rox stuff -- Atkins shirt, Rockies jacket and hat, and was hoping so very much that they'd heckle me about rooting for a bad team, but they probably don't even remember that the Rockies exist, and maybe had enough sense to realize that I could, you know, point out that we swept them). Don't get me wrong, both of us found the heckling very amusing, but only in the way you find an irretrievably stupid person funny; because they just think they know so much and know actually nothing at all. Perhaps it's a rite of passage, but they are stupid, aggressively stupid, and strut around like they're still the kings of the world. The late-90's Yankees dynasty has passed, people, and besides, you root for the Evil Empire/Chevy/GMC of baseball, headed by an asshole owner and fronted by a calvacade of "twenty-five guys/twenty-five cabs" overpaid primadonnas. Oooh. Don't get me onto the topic of the Yankees, clearly; there is so much hatred here. Don't try to justify liking the Yankees to me. I understand that you're from New York so they're your hometown team, and they win a lot and it's fun to root for a winner, but that's it. And what about all the Yankees "fans" that have never even been to NY? They don't have an excuse at all. They are shameless front-runners, and should be ritually crucified as a warning to all others. (Same goes for non-resident Red Sox and Cubs fans as well. Besides, I don't even get why you'd want to root for the Cubs if you were from Chicago, much less anywhere else. See my diatribe against Cubs fans below).
In contrast, the Mets seem like more fun, have a few players that I could even like, and even though planes roar overhead every half-hour, their much-maligned Shea is less of a dump than the historic but shitty Stadium. Not that I'm going to suddenly start rooting for them, but if you had to make me pick a sports team from my adopted home state with a gun to my head, I'd take the Mets in a (New York) minute. I'm looking forward to going with Mary and possibly Steve (remember them?) next week, and will probably clap for the Mets since a) I'll be in Shea anyway, and b) who the hell wants to cheer for the Nationals? Even those from D.C.? Seriously.
Okay. Long post over. I feel a little better now. Or maybe I don't. I hate the Yankees. Oh well. I fiercely adore my Rockies, even though they shave years off my life, inflate my blood pressure, and ruin my emotional state, and so that shall do. Josh Fogg vs. Brad Penny tonight (Fogg always seems to draw the toughest assignment from the opposing team) as the Rockies try to find their oft-missing killer instinct and put the finishing smackdown on the Dodgers.
Go Rox!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Ion Storm Redux
Weird day today, for all three of my teams. The Rockies, who have become my chief favorites, lost a tough game yesterday 2-1, playing the Red Sox hard for nine innings, but being too bamboozled by the dancing Tim Wakefield knuckler to back up a sterling start by Aaron Cook. Then today, they had what looked like a wildly unfair matchup on paper: Josh Fogg vs. Curt Schilling. I'd been dreading this game ever since I heard about it, but instead, the Rockies went out and engineered a 12-2 drubbing of baseball's best team. Schilling was responsible for half the tally, while the Sawx pen coughed up the rest, and every starter except Ryan Spilborghs chipped in at least one hit. Atkins had an RBI double, Hawpe had the big three-run blast to break the game open, and Helton got out of his funk with 4 RBI, including a bases-clearing double against ex-mate Javier Lopez. Fogg weebled and wobbled his way through five eventually serviceable innings, managed not to get burned by a dangerous Sox lineup, and handed off to the bullpen, who contributed four shutout innings -- two by Taylor Buchholz and one apiece by Jorge Julio (!) and LaTroy Hawkins (!!). In other words, it feels very nice to come into Fenway and deliver a merciless ass-kicking to its annoying incumbents. Jeff Francis goes tomorrow against hitherto-undefeated Josh Beckett in an attempt to secure yet another series win. Miraculously, the Rockies haven't lost a set since the Series That Shall Not Be Named, taking two of three and splitting with the Cards. They're actually doing... well, and are one game north of .500 on the road and one game south overall. Go Rockies...!
The A's also won today, helped by something that only happens once in a blue moon: Jason Kendall hit a home run, his second in about three years on the team. Despite the fact that the A's are in Houston, and the skewed dimensions of Minute Maid Park are ridiculous, it even wasn't a cheap shot. Also, after falling behind 4-3, they staged a five-run uprising in the top of the eighth, aided by a Mark Kotsay double, a Mark Ellis double, and a 2-run single from Eric Chavez. It's June and the A's are accordingly playing well, eating through a tough part of their schedule and hanging L's on a seemingly never-ending succession of top-flight starters. They managed to avoid their May swoon, so they're in striking distance, but unfortunately I was right and there isn't much catching the Angels at the top of the West this year. Maybe they can climb ahead of the Tigers for the wild card and keep getting stellar pitching, which they have a knack for doing -- Dan Haren and Chad Gaudin are a terrible twosome, with a combined record of 15-3 and a 2.00 ERA. This is the season that Haren becomes an ace while Harden sits out yet again, and he's sporting a 1.58 mark two and some-odd months into the season... and will probably end up losing the Cy to Beckett. Grr.
Lenny DiNardo has also done very well, throwing six innings of shutout ball in his last start and lowering his ERA to 1.22. The A's pitching staff leads the majors with an overall 3.16 ERA and this without Duchscherer, Street, and Harden.... wow. As for Harden, I've decided he's a nice asset in theory, but he will never be healthy and I'll stop thinking he will be. He'll come back, pitch four or five games, and go down again, so it's a good thing that Haren, Gaudin, and DiNardo can manage without him. Even the Fat Joes, Blanton and Kennedy, have been decent. Go figure. And go A's!
Adam Wainwright, who is still near and dear to my heart despite his lack of recent airtime on this blog (blame the Rockies for nestling into that spot at the top of my affections) has also recently completed a very nice turnaround, allowing 2 runs or less in his past few starts and turning in a sparkling effort tonight: 8 shutout innings, with only one hit permitted, against the Royals. Lest you sneeze at this, it should be noted that the Royals are capable of being monstrous pests (they were the authors of the Series That Shall Not Be Named) and whitewashed the Cards 8-1 last night, so Adam's effort against them tonight was both stellar and deeply appreciated. He's shaping into the starter the Cards thought they were getting when they converted him in the first place, which has come as a relief to Redbird Nation. Chris Carpenter is also ahead of schedule, and may be back on the mound by the end of July. With the Brew Crew languishing badly, the Cards have climbed into a tie for second place in a weak division and maybe, maybe can get things to break right. It would take a lot to overcome their season-long shitaceous play, but who knows? The NL West is no longer the NL Worst -- in fact, it's one of the tougher divisions in baseball -- so the NL Central takes the cake for crappitude. Go Cards!
On a final note, the bloody Yankees have won 11 of 13, and everybody keeps talking about 1978. My hatred for the Yankees is unmatched -- I was rooting for the Red Sox to beat them, and I still hate the Sox, albeit not quite as much since they lost douchebags such as Lowe, Damon, and Millar. I loathe them with a fiery, burning, completely unmatched raw passion, and if I have to hear one more time that they're coming to Coors next week, I'll flip a wig. I frigging know. I don't care if the rotation lines up so the Rox face Mussina, Pettitte, Clemens, as it seems they might. I want the Rockies to destroy them and make everyone shut up about the goddamn Kings of Overexposure. I like Pettitte, but I still want him to suck. And yes, I may need help, but we knew that. Yuck the Fankees. Living in New York, and even going to (and enjoying) a game at the Stadium hasn't changed my opinion of them. Hate them and their completely overhyped and overpaid aging team of self-important egoistic prima-donnas.
Okay. I'm better now. Really.
The A's also won today, helped by something that only happens once in a blue moon: Jason Kendall hit a home run, his second in about three years on the team. Despite the fact that the A's are in Houston, and the skewed dimensions of Minute Maid Park are ridiculous, it even wasn't a cheap shot. Also, after falling behind 4-3, they staged a five-run uprising in the top of the eighth, aided by a Mark Kotsay double, a Mark Ellis double, and a 2-run single from Eric Chavez. It's June and the A's are accordingly playing well, eating through a tough part of their schedule and hanging L's on a seemingly never-ending succession of top-flight starters. They managed to avoid their May swoon, so they're in striking distance, but unfortunately I was right and there isn't much catching the Angels at the top of the West this year. Maybe they can climb ahead of the Tigers for the wild card and keep getting stellar pitching, which they have a knack for doing -- Dan Haren and Chad Gaudin are a terrible twosome, with a combined record of 15-3 and a 2.00 ERA. This is the season that Haren becomes an ace while Harden sits out yet again, and he's sporting a 1.58 mark two and some-odd months into the season... and will probably end up losing the Cy to Beckett. Grr.
Lenny DiNardo has also done very well, throwing six innings of shutout ball in his last start and lowering his ERA to 1.22. The A's pitching staff leads the majors with an overall 3.16 ERA and this without Duchscherer, Street, and Harden.... wow. As for Harden, I've decided he's a nice asset in theory, but he will never be healthy and I'll stop thinking he will be. He'll come back, pitch four or five games, and go down again, so it's a good thing that Haren, Gaudin, and DiNardo can manage without him. Even the Fat Joes, Blanton and Kennedy, have been decent. Go figure. And go A's!
Adam Wainwright, who is still near and dear to my heart despite his lack of recent airtime on this blog (blame the Rockies for nestling into that spot at the top of my affections) has also recently completed a very nice turnaround, allowing 2 runs or less in his past few starts and turning in a sparkling effort tonight: 8 shutout innings, with only one hit permitted, against the Royals. Lest you sneeze at this, it should be noted that the Royals are capable of being monstrous pests (they were the authors of the Series That Shall Not Be Named) and whitewashed the Cards 8-1 last night, so Adam's effort against them tonight was both stellar and deeply appreciated. He's shaping into the starter the Cards thought they were getting when they converted him in the first place, which has come as a relief to Redbird Nation. Chris Carpenter is also ahead of schedule, and may be back on the mound by the end of July. With the Brew Crew languishing badly, the Cards have climbed into a tie for second place in a weak division and maybe, maybe can get things to break right. It would take a lot to overcome their season-long shitaceous play, but who knows? The NL West is no longer the NL Worst -- in fact, it's one of the tougher divisions in baseball -- so the NL Central takes the cake for crappitude. Go Cards!
On a final note, the bloody Yankees have won 11 of 13, and everybody keeps talking about 1978. My hatred for the Yankees is unmatched -- I was rooting for the Red Sox to beat them, and I still hate the Sox, albeit not quite as much since they lost douchebags such as Lowe, Damon, and Millar. I loathe them with a fiery, burning, completely unmatched raw passion, and if I have to hear one more time that they're coming to Coors next week, I'll flip a wig. I frigging know. I don't care if the rotation lines up so the Rox face Mussina, Pettitte, Clemens, as it seems they might. I want the Rockies to destroy them and make everyone shut up about the goddamn Kings of Overexposure. I like Pettitte, but I still want him to suck. And yes, I may need help, but we knew that. Yuck the Fankees. Living in New York, and even going to (and enjoying) a game at the Stadium hasn't changed my opinion of them. Hate them and their completely overhyped and overpaid aging team of self-important egoistic prima-donnas.
Okay. I'm better now. Really.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Photographic Evidence
... of my trips to Shea/Yankee Stadiums. Seeing as the pics at Coors were just taken last night, they're obviously not developed yet, but in the meantime, enjoy my selection of snapshots from my first games of the year. My, um, scholarly commentary will follow each picture. And for the record, I think I look heinous in my picture with Cook and I'm really not that ugly, heh. Oh, wounded vanity. If you click on the pictures, they'll get larger. Also, this is extremely aggravating to compose since Blogger randomly decided not to allow me to cut and paste pictures, so you'd better appreciate the effort I make on your behalf. [sniff, sniff, snob, snob]
Shea Stadium on a lovely April evening. This was right after I got done having my religious experience and fumbled my camera out of my bag.
Shea Stadium on a lovely April evening. This was right after I got done having my religious experience and fumbled my camera out of my bag.
One of David Wright's many female fans, somewhere in the middle of Mets' batting practice. My friend Mary, it must be noted, is among them, and was wearing her "Mrs. Wright" T-shirt.
Jason Hirsh in the dugout. :) As mentioned, I'm a little bit in love with him after last night.
Jeff Francis being interrogated by a few MLB reporters. He's surprisingly large for a kid who looks like he's about 17.
COOKIE (:D) signing my hat.
Me and Cookie. (:D) For the record, I didn't realize my arm was around him until I saw the pic, and yes, I think I look terrible in this picture. Cook was a total sweetheart, though, so I'll tell him that if I ever see him again.
Me and Garrett. (:D :D) This is a moderately better pic. I was probably fluttering just a bit. It was fun. So I'm a bit sweet on him. Shaddup.
Shea by day. The guys were actually a lot bigger than it looks from here; the seats were pretty good considering they cost five bucks.
Shea by night.
This concludes the Shea portion of the photos... Yankee Stadium next.
This is the kick-ass strip of sports bars, memorabilia shops, and whatnot that parallel Yankee Stadium (the gray thing on the right). I wish I'd gotten more shots, since it's a great atmosphere.
Looking down into Monument Park. We didn't actually go in, but it's cool nonetheless.
The famous white facade and scoreboard. As you can tell, the weather was just pristine.
Right field corner in Yankee Stadium during batting practice. A little piece of baseball heaven.
Speaking of heaven. Can't you just hear that angelic chorus?
Our seats. We moved out from behind the flagpole.
Yankee Stadium scoreboard announcing C.J. Wilson pitching. (My favorite Ranger. Read his blog, I mean it).
Sadly, this isn't my picture. It's actually from C.J.'s blog, and features him sporting his new mohawk hairdo. Fierce.
That's all for the pictures. There will be more from Coors at some point in the season, especially if my sister and I go to Photo Day, June 2 vs. the Reds. She may keel over if she got one with Holliday, but I know, I know, I shouldn't be pointing too many fingers.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Stadium Experience
Yes, I know, yet more lagging on the updating. I apologize. It's almost summertime and then I will be free to soak myself in baseball to my heart's content, as I plan on doing. (Well, not really. There is the troublesome factor of having to, you know, get a job, and work, and make money, which I do need. Boo. Oh well, there will be plenty of time for baseball too -- I will ensure that). It's the last week of school, practically the last day -- I have two classes tomorrow morning and then I'm getting a ride out to LaGuardia directly afterwards. My flight leaves at 3:30 ET and gets in at 6 PM MT, after which I will be home for four months, enjoying movies, baseball, working, baseball, parties, baseball, and the company of my sister. Whoo, summer! Can't wait.
Yes, well, in the few days that my diligent reporting skills missed, the Rockies took two of three from the Reds and dropped two of three to the Cards -- I was really hoping they'd win the middle game of the series so that Adam could get the win in the third game and the Rockies could take the series. Adam did get the win, but the Rockies did not win the second game of the series thanks to another boneheaded move from Mensa candidate Clint Hurdle. He pulled Taylor Buchholz after six shutout, four-hit innings, during which time Taylor had racked up only 71 pitches. The bullpen blew it, naturally, and then yesterday, Jason Hirsh was in the 90-pitch range in about the third inning. Enter bullpen, exit a number of baseballs and the Rockies' chances at taking the series. At least Wainwright got the win. Oh well.
But the main story from yesterday is that I finally got to go to Yankee Stadium, a trip that has been long in the planning and difficult to actually work out. My friend Allison and I finally coordinated our schedules, met up, walked to the Bronxville train station, and took the Metro-North to Grand Central, talking baseball the whole way. I enlightened her as to the merits of the Rockies, A's, and Cards, we agreed that Alex Rodriguez is a total tool, and otherwise had a fine time. We got to Grand Central and, after some doing, located the entrance for the uptown 4 train, which was unhelpfully sequestered in a dark corner on the complete opposite side from the downtown 4 train, which was naturally the first one we saw. We waited for a couple of 5 trains to go by, then got on the 4 and packed in, getting awfully intimate with some of New York City's finest. I swear, being on that train made me not mind the traffic on the I-25 corridor so much, which I always have to drive to get to Coors, and which is always congested like a fat man's arteries. It was also the biggest incentive to wear deodorant that I have ever encountered, let's just put it like that. But I actually didn't mind that much. It was the "real" experience if you will, taking the subway to the game with a bunch of yokels in Yankees gear. (Side note: A dude in a Yankees jersey came onto the already packed car and demanded, "Move." When he turned around, I noted that the jersey was an A-Rod one. It figures).
At last, the train pulled up into the sunlight and clicked right behind the center field wall of Yankee Stadium. Everybody disembarked en masse and headed in. The subway tracks are elevated right by the stadium, so you get off and walk underneath them into a maze of sports bars, memorabilia shops, and such that make a long strip paralleling the Stadium. It was awesome... even I, a pretty staunch Yankee hater, thought it was just a great atmosphere. Death-defying cabbies, traffic jams, people milling around -- it was taking your life into your hands to cross the street, but Allison and I managed, and after some doing and consulting a helpful usher, we discovered the gameday ticket window. The bleachers were the only thing left, so we paid $12 apiece and headed into the Stadium, as the bleacher entrance was conveniently located nearby.
I didn't have a religious experience like I did when I walked into Shea, but I have to say that that first sight of the field was pretty damn special. The sky was brilliantly blue, the temperature was around seventy, and the sun was striping shadows on the immaculate green field. We walked up and looked right down into Monument Park, and up at the famous white facade. I took some pictures and called my dad to inform him of where I was, as I did when I was at Shea. Then Allison and I wandered into the right field corner to watch the Rangers take batting practice and the crowds in the bleachers beg the wandering pitchers to throw them a ball. If I were a Ranger, I wouldn't have given them one, knowing that they were going to be calling my masculinity and/or mother into question in less than an hour, and there were a few pitchers who, in fact, just threw the balls in whenever they caught them, acts which earned them loud razzing in Bronx accents from the Jeter and/or Mussina and/or Rodriguez-shirt clad faithful lining the railing.
However, there were a few who played along. Specifically, C.J. Wilson. He is my favorite Ranger (which isn't hard, as I don't particulary care about the rest of them) for a number of reasons: he writes a terrific blog (Scorpion Tales) was a writing major who's working on a novel, plays guitar, films movies with his teammates, and, well, he is a bit cute. He's also a short guy with a blue glove, so he wasn't too hard to pick out, and every time he got a ball, he would spin around dramatically and make a tremendous production of faking a throw, which would get the crowd all excited for nothing. Once he'd disappointed them all, he would flip the ball into the stands. He looked like he was having a lot of fun out there and made Kameron Loe (who, compared to C.J., is a giant at 6'8") laugh a lot. A few of the Creatures were yelling at him (mainly "dumbass!" and "halfwit!") until C.J. turned around, sauntered up to the right field fence, and shouted, "I love roll call, man!" This refers to the Yankee Stadium habit of yelling at their players until they get a response, so in other words, he was giving as good as he got. (I was tempted to scream, "I love you, C.J.!" at the top of my lungs, since he was conversing with the guy next to me and he definitely would have heard me, but I chickened out).
Allison and I were just hanging out in the right field corner, leaning on the railing, watching the end of BP and feeling totally happy. When they started dismantling the cage, we bought hot dogs and sodas and headed back to our seats, where we moved up about ten rows from where we were supposed to be and scooted out from behind an inconveniently placed flagpole so we could see the pitchers' mound. Nobody came to claim those particular seats, so we sat there all game and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I have to admit that when they were playing the National Anthem, the banks of lights in the stadium on, the night beautiful, with that big white facade behind us, I got goosebumps -- it was just something a baseball fan needs to experience.
The game itself was a lot of fun, even though I wasn't rooting for one team or another. The guys behind us were talking a lot (it sounded like a couple of buddies, one Yankee fan and one Ranger fan) and they were very entertaining. ("Who's coming up? Wilkerson, Cruz, and the Double-A Player of the Year?" and "Second time through the lineup, they'll figure out Moose's curveball. Well, not Sosa. But the rest of them will.") They knew their baseball and were fun to listen to, and at one point when they couldn't remember where Ron Washington came from, I turned around and told them that he was the third base coach for the A's. I think they were impressed. Allison was too. When I didn't know who Chris Stewart, the rookie catcher for the Rangers, was, she remarked that he had to be new, otherwise I would have known him, since I knew every player in baseball. I was flattered. It's true, after all. Well, mostly.
C.J. got to pitch, hurrah, and recorded a clean three innings of work. I even convinced Allison that he was awesome, and since the Yankees were ahead 6-2 when C.J. entered, she started rooting for him. We were both happy when he got A-Rod out (another side note: his at-bat music is a ridiculously stupid rap song called "This Is Why I'm Hot." Um, ego much?) But the really memorable parts of the game occured in the ninth. Mo Rivera was warming up in the bullpen, which was right below us, and the Creatures yelled happily at him. I was hoping they'd bring in Rivera even though it was a non-save situation, and they did. It was pretty cool -- Rivera's back, number 42, trotting in from center field with "Enter Sandman" echoing out over the P.A. and Yankee Stadium screaming happily. I wish I'd gotten a picture, but I think I'd finished my camera by then. (I'm paranoid that the airport screeners will somehow screw up the film, and I'll lose all my Mets/Rockies/Yankees pictures. I will flip a wig if that happens).
Anyway, this was when the REALLY interesting part of the game happened. Some intoxicated fool leapt onto the field and started dancing around happily, zoomed past a very startled Hideki Matsui and attempted to give him a high five, then eluded pursuit by a horde of sprinting security guards and managed to get all the way into the infield before getting dogpiled. He was escorted off the field to a night in the slammer and Yankee Stadium cheered raucously; they loved it. (Not so much when Rivera gave up a hit to the next batter, as they grumbled that he broke Mo's concentration). Then the second fan of the inning took a dive onto the field right behind home plate, but security grabbed him immediately and escorted him out. Yankee Stadium loved that too, and I heard a few chants of, "One more fan!" The guys behind us remarked, "Jeez, what is it over there? Two-dollar beer night?" But Rivera finished off the game with no more baserunners or field-hopping bozos, and everyone was happy. Allison and I squished back onto the 4 train, disembarked at Grand Central, and waited for the 11:14 Metro-North back to Bronxville. I didn't get home until midnight and was so tired that I slept for 10+ hours on a bare mattress beneath my bathrobe -- everything was picked up and taken off for summer storage yesterday.
I'm going to workshop two last stories for writing class and pack eventually, after spending the afternoon running errands and cleaning up. Summer is SO close I can smell it (and feel it, as it's hot and sticky here today). And next Wednesday I'll be at a game too, Rockies vs. D-backs. Yankee Stadium was a lot of fun, but it made me desperate to get home to Coors and to my boys. So close now, so close...
Yes, well, in the few days that my diligent reporting skills missed, the Rockies took two of three from the Reds and dropped two of three to the Cards -- I was really hoping they'd win the middle game of the series so that Adam could get the win in the third game and the Rockies could take the series. Adam did get the win, but the Rockies did not win the second game of the series thanks to another boneheaded move from Mensa candidate Clint Hurdle. He pulled Taylor Buchholz after six shutout, four-hit innings, during which time Taylor had racked up only 71 pitches. The bullpen blew it, naturally, and then yesterday, Jason Hirsh was in the 90-pitch range in about the third inning. Enter bullpen, exit a number of baseballs and the Rockies' chances at taking the series. At least Wainwright got the win. Oh well.
But the main story from yesterday is that I finally got to go to Yankee Stadium, a trip that has been long in the planning and difficult to actually work out. My friend Allison and I finally coordinated our schedules, met up, walked to the Bronxville train station, and took the Metro-North to Grand Central, talking baseball the whole way. I enlightened her as to the merits of the Rockies, A's, and Cards, we agreed that Alex Rodriguez is a total tool, and otherwise had a fine time. We got to Grand Central and, after some doing, located the entrance for the uptown 4 train, which was unhelpfully sequestered in a dark corner on the complete opposite side from the downtown 4 train, which was naturally the first one we saw. We waited for a couple of 5 trains to go by, then got on the 4 and packed in, getting awfully intimate with some of New York City's finest. I swear, being on that train made me not mind the traffic on the I-25 corridor so much, which I always have to drive to get to Coors, and which is always congested like a fat man's arteries. It was also the biggest incentive to wear deodorant that I have ever encountered, let's just put it like that. But I actually didn't mind that much. It was the "real" experience if you will, taking the subway to the game with a bunch of yokels in Yankees gear. (Side note: A dude in a Yankees jersey came onto the already packed car and demanded, "Move." When he turned around, I noted that the jersey was an A-Rod one. It figures).
At last, the train pulled up into the sunlight and clicked right behind the center field wall of Yankee Stadium. Everybody disembarked en masse and headed in. The subway tracks are elevated right by the stadium, so you get off and walk underneath them into a maze of sports bars, memorabilia shops, and such that make a long strip paralleling the Stadium. It was awesome... even I, a pretty staunch Yankee hater, thought it was just a great atmosphere. Death-defying cabbies, traffic jams, people milling around -- it was taking your life into your hands to cross the street, but Allison and I managed, and after some doing and consulting a helpful usher, we discovered the gameday ticket window. The bleachers were the only thing left, so we paid $12 apiece and headed into the Stadium, as the bleacher entrance was conveniently located nearby.
I didn't have a religious experience like I did when I walked into Shea, but I have to say that that first sight of the field was pretty damn special. The sky was brilliantly blue, the temperature was around seventy, and the sun was striping shadows on the immaculate green field. We walked up and looked right down into Monument Park, and up at the famous white facade. I took some pictures and called my dad to inform him of where I was, as I did when I was at Shea. Then Allison and I wandered into the right field corner to watch the Rangers take batting practice and the crowds in the bleachers beg the wandering pitchers to throw them a ball. If I were a Ranger, I wouldn't have given them one, knowing that they were going to be calling my masculinity and/or mother into question in less than an hour, and there were a few pitchers who, in fact, just threw the balls in whenever they caught them, acts which earned them loud razzing in Bronx accents from the Jeter and/or Mussina and/or Rodriguez-shirt clad faithful lining the railing.
However, there were a few who played along. Specifically, C.J. Wilson. He is my favorite Ranger (which isn't hard, as I don't particulary care about the rest of them) for a number of reasons: he writes a terrific blog (Scorpion Tales) was a writing major who's working on a novel, plays guitar, films movies with his teammates, and, well, he is a bit cute. He's also a short guy with a blue glove, so he wasn't too hard to pick out, and every time he got a ball, he would spin around dramatically and make a tremendous production of faking a throw, which would get the crowd all excited for nothing. Once he'd disappointed them all, he would flip the ball into the stands. He looked like he was having a lot of fun out there and made Kameron Loe (who, compared to C.J., is a giant at 6'8") laugh a lot. A few of the Creatures were yelling at him (mainly "dumbass!" and "halfwit!") until C.J. turned around, sauntered up to the right field fence, and shouted, "I love roll call, man!" This refers to the Yankee Stadium habit of yelling at their players until they get a response, so in other words, he was giving as good as he got. (I was tempted to scream, "I love you, C.J.!" at the top of my lungs, since he was conversing with the guy next to me and he definitely would have heard me, but I chickened out).
Allison and I were just hanging out in the right field corner, leaning on the railing, watching the end of BP and feeling totally happy. When they started dismantling the cage, we bought hot dogs and sodas and headed back to our seats, where we moved up about ten rows from where we were supposed to be and scooted out from behind an inconveniently placed flagpole so we could see the pitchers' mound. Nobody came to claim those particular seats, so we sat there all game and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I have to admit that when they were playing the National Anthem, the banks of lights in the stadium on, the night beautiful, with that big white facade behind us, I got goosebumps -- it was just something a baseball fan needs to experience.
The game itself was a lot of fun, even though I wasn't rooting for one team or another. The guys behind us were talking a lot (it sounded like a couple of buddies, one Yankee fan and one Ranger fan) and they were very entertaining. ("Who's coming up? Wilkerson, Cruz, and the Double-A Player of the Year?" and "Second time through the lineup, they'll figure out Moose's curveball. Well, not Sosa. But the rest of them will.") They knew their baseball and were fun to listen to, and at one point when they couldn't remember where Ron Washington came from, I turned around and told them that he was the third base coach for the A's. I think they were impressed. Allison was too. When I didn't know who Chris Stewart, the rookie catcher for the Rangers, was, she remarked that he had to be new, otherwise I would have known him, since I knew every player in baseball. I was flattered. It's true, after all. Well, mostly.
C.J. got to pitch, hurrah, and recorded a clean three innings of work. I even convinced Allison that he was awesome, and since the Yankees were ahead 6-2 when C.J. entered, she started rooting for him. We were both happy when he got A-Rod out (another side note: his at-bat music is a ridiculously stupid rap song called "This Is Why I'm Hot." Um, ego much?) But the really memorable parts of the game occured in the ninth. Mo Rivera was warming up in the bullpen, which was right below us, and the Creatures yelled happily at him. I was hoping they'd bring in Rivera even though it was a non-save situation, and they did. It was pretty cool -- Rivera's back, number 42, trotting in from center field with "Enter Sandman" echoing out over the P.A. and Yankee Stadium screaming happily. I wish I'd gotten a picture, but I think I'd finished my camera by then. (I'm paranoid that the airport screeners will somehow screw up the film, and I'll lose all my Mets/Rockies/Yankees pictures. I will flip a wig if that happens).
Anyway, this was when the REALLY interesting part of the game happened. Some intoxicated fool leapt onto the field and started dancing around happily, zoomed past a very startled Hideki Matsui and attempted to give him a high five, then eluded pursuit by a horde of sprinting security guards and managed to get all the way into the infield before getting dogpiled. He was escorted off the field to a night in the slammer and Yankee Stadium cheered raucously; they loved it. (Not so much when Rivera gave up a hit to the next batter, as they grumbled that he broke Mo's concentration). Then the second fan of the inning took a dive onto the field right behind home plate, but security grabbed him immediately and escorted him out. Yankee Stadium loved that too, and I heard a few chants of, "One more fan!" The guys behind us remarked, "Jeez, what is it over there? Two-dollar beer night?" But Rivera finished off the game with no more baserunners or field-hopping bozos, and everyone was happy. Allison and I squished back onto the 4 train, disembarked at Grand Central, and waited for the 11:14 Metro-North back to Bronxville. I didn't get home until midnight and was so tired that I slept for 10+ hours on a bare mattress beneath my bathrobe -- everything was picked up and taken off for summer storage yesterday.
I'm going to workshop two last stories for writing class and pack eventually, after spending the afternoon running errands and cleaning up. Summer is SO close I can smell it (and feel it, as it's hot and sticky here today). And next Wednesday I'll be at a game too, Rockies vs. D-backs. Yankee Stadium was a lot of fun, but it made me desperate to get home to Coors and to my boys. So close now, so close...
Monday, April 02, 2007
Just a Note
Still hate the Yanks, but this is a sad and sweet picture and I thought it deserved to be posted.
That's Melanie Lidle, wife of the late Cory, kissing her son Christopher before she threw out the ceremonial first pitch at the Yanks' home opener. The team will be wearing black armbands to honor Lidle throughout the season. Dah... that's still awfully sad, I'm tearing up.
That's Melanie Lidle, wife of the late Cory, kissing her son Christopher before she threw out the ceremonial first pitch at the Yanks' home opener. The team will be wearing black armbands to honor Lidle throughout the season. Dah... that's still awfully sad, I'm tearing up.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Preseason Preview: Yankees
So it's my very short encapsulated preview for each team that hasn't been covered in detail, in which I outline starting rotations, lineups, and a brief gloss of each team's chances/projected records, all the while challenging myself to extreme brevity. We'll start with the AL East and heeeere we go. On an unrelated note, happy 30th birthday, Bronson Arroyo.
--------
The
Rotation
1. Chien-Ming Wang, RHP
2. Mike Mussina, RHP
3. Andy Pettitte, LHP
4. Kei Igawa, LHP
5. Carl Pavano, RHP
Bullpen
1. Mariano Rivera, RHP
2. Kyle Farnsworth, RHP
3. Scott Proctor, RHP
4. T.J. Beam, RHP
5. Mike Myers, LHP
6. Luis Vizcaino, RHP
7. Colter Bean, LHP
Lineup
1B Doug Mientkiciwicz
2B Robinson Cano
SS Derek Jeter
3B Alex Rodriguez
RF Bobby Abreu
CF Johnny Damon
LF Hideki Matsui
C Jorge Posada
DH Jason Giambi
The 500 Word Rundown
The Yankees still have a fearsome offense, which is what leads everyone to pick them as World Series champions, every year, despite that they haven't been to the big dance since 2003 and haven't won it since 2000, when they beat the Mets in a Subway Series. They also revamped their pitching with the addition of Japanese lefty Kei Igawa and old fan favorite Andy Pettitte. Carl Pavano is a question mark after displaying lackluster work ethic and being sidelined with (and lying to the team about) a number of injuries. Mariano Rivera is still one of the most automatic closers in the game, the standout of a shaky bullpen, yet for all the team's talent, they can play up to it in the regular season, win the division comfortably, and come to pieces in October.
Perhaps it's true that money can't buy a championship, especially since the Yankees are picked almost every year to break their "drought" - seven years by now - and win the Series. You'd think that one of these years all that talent would bring a 27th crown back to the
Everyone is one year older, the pressure is on just as much, and manager Joe Torre's chief job will be juggling all the egos in the clubhouse. This is a team of superstars who know they are superstars and often play like it - i.e. in their own best interests to pad their stats. I don't think they disdain each other, it's just that they run baseball like a business - cool, performance-oriented, professional courtesy only. Perhaps that's an asset, as after all this is the team that has won the most World Series championships in history, but I don't see the Yankees players bonding over game shows and guys' night out; they put on their suits and calmly walk out the door to their own lives. There have also been a number of clubhouse friction incidents - most notably Jeter/Rodriguez and Pavano/Mussina. Until the jaded superstars are weeded out and young guys who want it are brought in, I foresee the title drought marching onwards in the
Projected Finish: 95-67, AL East Champs
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Andy Pettitte Appreciation Post
(a.k.a. APAP)
Let's clarify a few things here.
a) I used to love the Yankees, and I really do mean love them.
b) I stopped doing so. I can pinpoint this on two things:
c) the acquisition of Me-Rod
d) the 2004 ALCS collapse
Also, I broke down and sobbed like a frickin' baby when my sister, looking very grim, said, "Hilary." [long pause] "Andy signed with the Astros."
And while I am not a Yankees fan any more - in fact, I believe they personify a lot of baseball's current problems - I have a soft spot for a few of them. Jorge Posada, since I watched him play from dugout seats in the minor leagues, where my love affair with baseball began. Mike Mussina, because, well, he's never been a douche in my estimation. Mo Rivera, because he's Mo, and how can you argue with that?
But I have to give a shout-out to the man who has been my favorite (or close to it) for eleven years. That's right, eleven frickin' years. That's the longest I have ever been in love with a human being, folks, so let's give it up for Andrew Eugene Pettitte.
This is one Yankee that I will never hate.
And yes, those have been saved on my computer since Andy was last a Yankee.
Hey hey, Andy, you're awesome. I won't hear anything else. Cheers, man!
EDIT: Almost forgot what may be the most beautiful picture of a baseball player. Ever. I tried to draw this picture once, and it turned out... all right.
[SWOON]
Let's clarify a few things here.
a) I used to love the Yankees, and I really do mean love them.
b) I stopped doing so. I can pinpoint this on two things:
c) the acquisition of Me-Rod
d) the 2004 ALCS collapse
Also, I broke down and sobbed like a frickin' baby when my sister, looking very grim, said, "Hilary." [long pause] "Andy signed with the Astros."
And while I am not a Yankees fan any more - in fact, I believe they personify a lot of baseball's current problems - I have a soft spot for a few of them. Jorge Posada, since I watched him play from dugout seats in the minor leagues, where my love affair with baseball began. Mike Mussina, because, well, he's never been a douche in my estimation. Mo Rivera, because he's Mo, and how can you argue with that?
But I have to give a shout-out to the man who has been my favorite (or close to it) for eleven years. That's right, eleven frickin' years. That's the longest I have ever been in love with a human being, folks, so let's give it up for Andrew Eugene Pettitte.
This is one Yankee that I will never hate.
And yes, those have been saved on my computer since Andy was last a Yankee.
Hey hey, Andy, you're awesome. I won't hear anything else. Cheers, man!
EDIT: Almost forgot what may be the most beautiful picture of a baseball player. Ever. I tried to draw this picture once, and it turned out... all right.
[SWOON]
Friday, December 08, 2006
Evidence of My Non-Deadness
Evidently, I am not the world's most fastidious blogger when the baseball season is not in session and therefore I see no need to bore my extremely limited audience with the mundane details of my life. But in case anybody... at all... was wondering, as a matter of fact, I am still alive and kicking. But I have been swamped with end-of-term work, including a 27-page philosophy paper, a 30-page history paper, a 140-page writing project, and compilation worksheets for two of those classes, all of which we do in lieu of ordinary final exams at SLC. I prefer it this way, being a wordophile, but it does leave quite a bit less time for doing things like sleeping, free time, and staring blankly into space. If anyone is interested, I'll post the final .pdfs of the projects later.
Let's see... I went to the Cloisters branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my history class today, which was very interesting, and most importantly: I go home in a week. I have found myself absolutely salivating, counting the hours, totally ready to go home and do nothing, although my passion for this does not equal my passion to get out in the first place. At this time next week (4:30 MT, 6:30 ET) I'll be on board a Boeing about an hour outside of Denver, and I am so ready to just let my frazzled brain unwind without constantly mentally charting my assignments, due dates, and needed edits...
My family is waiting to put up the tree until I get home, which is nice, but if they really wanted to, I don't care if they do it without me. I'm done with my Christmas shopping, mostly, and I think that I got some fairly nice gifts. What I seem to be spending the most money on is iTunes... suffice it to say that my music library has greatly expanded since I first arrived. But since I haven't been home since August, I am ready to go. One more week. Meergh... I won't survive. And then I'll have to get someone to post "Evidence of my Deadness."
On the baseball front, the Cardinals (thank God!) shot down any rumors of their interest in Bighead Bonds, who then re-signed with the Giants, to nobody's surprise. That's one worrisome rumor out of the way - I've heard scary (but probably unsubstantiated) rumors of my favorites, like Brad Hawpe and Danny Haren, possibly changing teams. This would most likely not kill me, but it would make me very upset.
The Cardinals need some rotational upgrades - they signed Carp to a five-year extension that will keep him sporting the Birds on the Bat through 2011 at an extra $50 million (or thereabouts; they already had some money invested in him for next season) which is a bargain for a pitcher of Carp's caliber. However, the rest of the starters are not similarly arranged. After Carp comes Anthony Reyes, talented but unpredictable, followed by Kip Wells, a suspect Pirates reclamation project, followed by.... ? There are two gaping holes in the rotation, and the Cards missed out on Jason Schmidt to the Dodgers.
Two theories have been put about - one is that the Cards try to fill the spaces with people within the organization - which would likely portend a move to the rotation for postseason hero and my dearly beloved Adam Wainwright. (Dear God, do not let LaRussa have been serious when he mentioned Braden Looper, the definition of mediocrity edging into frightening badness, making a move to the starting five. The man has one pitch, possibly two, hasn't started since making 10 appearances in A ball in 1997, and has an unfortunate tendency to turn into a pinata if he lets runners on, which he does frequently.).
The other is that the Cards try to sign Miguel Batista, who isn't that great, but he's about the only option left on the market that is not named Barry Zito. None of these scenarios have me that enthused. Then again, the Cards' rotation won the World Series last year with Carpenter, Suppan, a lot of smoke and mirrors, and occasional guest appearances by Jeff Weaver in the postseason, so what do I know? Still, the fact remains that my darling Redbirds won exactly 83 games in the regular season last year, an underwhelming total, and, let's face it, put together a magical run at exactly the right moment to carry them to the trophy. Now just imagine if they'd played like that all season... but their two previous years, 'o4 and '05, in which they hit the centennial-win mark both times, didn't deliver the hardware. I'll take the trophy any day, and I'm wearing my World Champs shirt right now. I wear it a lot. I discovered the other day that the majority of my shirts happen to be Cardinal-themed.
As for the other piece of news, my first and long-term favorite, Andy Pettitte, went back to the Yankees after playing out a three-year contract with the Astros. I'll admit it, I used to be a Yankees fan, but I have a good reason - I lived for four years in Columbus, Ohio, when I was young and watched their minor league team, the Columbus Clippers, including current catcher Jorge Posada. And I also discovered that the Clippers are no longer the AAA affiliate for the Yanks - they're for the Nationals. I feel betrayed.
But anyway, I have loved Andy for as long as I've known about baseball, no joke. If I was seven when I first discovered baseball - that would be 1995, we missed seeing Andy and Derek Jeter in the minors by one year - then I discovered him as soon as I looked into the MLB club that the Clippers, my first baseball loves, were affiliated with. (I can still sing your their rally jingle. Heavily paraphrased, it ran something like, "Guess which team is number one? They're the Columbus Clippers and they'll keep on playing till they've won -we’ll stand up and we’ll tell, Columbus Clippers, ring your bell.”) At which point everybody would clang the Clipper-themed cowbells which they gave away. This happened a lot. I have a lot of fond memories of my minor league baseball days. Ask me sometimes.
But, well, yeah. Andy. Since I have loved the man for 11 years, cried like a baby when he left the Yankees for the Astros, have a picture and a street sign (“46 Andy Pettitte Avenue") above my bed, and an Andy bobblehead… let’s just say I can’t root against him. For Christ's sake, when I was still playing Barbies with my sister, Andy was one of the recurring characters in our invented town. It would be amazing to get tickets for his first start back at the Stadium – the Bronx faithful still love him, and then I could happily boo A-Rod for the rest of the game.
As a final note, does anybody think the amount of money being thrown at mediocrity is out of control? Gil Freakin' Meche, who has a career record of 55-44, got $55 million over five years from the Kansas City Freakin' Royals. Match made in heaven, and you can definitely tell that that was a deal made all about the money, as the Royals have less chance of competing for a pennant than I do of turning their signature blue color. Ted Lilly got $40 million over 4 years from the Cubs, and of course, the new albatross contract was also doled out by the North Siders - $136 m. over 8 years for Alfonso Soriano. Just because the market is thin doesn't mean that GMs need to go absolutely berserk over the uninspiring talent. Must be nice to be rich (said the college student bitterly).
I think I need to a) take out the trash, b) use the bathroom, and c) edit my writing project now, so it’s time to wrap this up. Naturally, it ended up being longer than I expected, but at least no, I am not dead. Check back at the end of this week, as it may be a different story then.
(After fourth or fifth attempt to publish this: Blogger, what the fuck characters aren't allowed?)
Let's see... I went to the Cloisters branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my history class today, which was very interesting, and most importantly: I go home in a week. I have found myself absolutely salivating, counting the hours, totally ready to go home and do nothing, although my passion for this does not equal my passion to get out in the first place. At this time next week (4:30 MT, 6:30 ET) I'll be on board a Boeing about an hour outside of Denver, and I am so ready to just let my frazzled brain unwind without constantly mentally charting my assignments, due dates, and needed edits...
My family is waiting to put up the tree until I get home, which is nice, but if they really wanted to, I don't care if they do it without me. I'm done with my Christmas shopping, mostly, and I think that I got some fairly nice gifts. What I seem to be spending the most money on is iTunes... suffice it to say that my music library has greatly expanded since I first arrived. But since I haven't been home since August, I am ready to go. One more week. Meergh... I won't survive. And then I'll have to get someone to post "Evidence of my Deadness."
On the baseball front, the Cardinals (thank God!) shot down any rumors of their interest in Bighead Bonds, who then re-signed with the Giants, to nobody's surprise. That's one worrisome rumor out of the way - I've heard scary (but probably unsubstantiated) rumors of my favorites, like Brad Hawpe and Danny Haren, possibly changing teams. This would most likely not kill me, but it would make me very upset.
The Cardinals need some rotational upgrades - they signed Carp to a five-year extension that will keep him sporting the Birds on the Bat through 2011 at an extra $50 million (or thereabouts; they already had some money invested in him for next season) which is a bargain for a pitcher of Carp's caliber. However, the rest of the starters are not similarly arranged. After Carp comes Anthony Reyes, talented but unpredictable, followed by Kip Wells, a suspect Pirates reclamation project, followed by.... ? There are two gaping holes in the rotation, and the Cards missed out on Jason Schmidt to the Dodgers.
Two theories have been put about - one is that the Cards try to fill the spaces with people within the organization - which would likely portend a move to the rotation for postseason hero and my dearly beloved Adam Wainwright. (Dear God, do not let LaRussa have been serious when he mentioned Braden Looper, the definition of mediocrity edging into frightening badness, making a move to the starting five. The man has one pitch, possibly two, hasn't started since making 10 appearances in A ball in 1997, and has an unfortunate tendency to turn into a pinata if he lets runners on, which he does frequently.).
The other is that the Cards try to sign Miguel Batista, who isn't that great, but he's about the only option left on the market that is not named Barry Zito. None of these scenarios have me that enthused. Then again, the Cards' rotation won the World Series last year with Carpenter, Suppan, a lot of smoke and mirrors, and occasional guest appearances by Jeff Weaver in the postseason, so what do I know? Still, the fact remains that my darling Redbirds won exactly 83 games in the regular season last year, an underwhelming total, and, let's face it, put together a magical run at exactly the right moment to carry them to the trophy. Now just imagine if they'd played like that all season... but their two previous years, 'o4 and '05, in which they hit the centennial-win mark both times, didn't deliver the hardware. I'll take the trophy any day, and I'm wearing my World Champs shirt right now. I wear it a lot. I discovered the other day that the majority of my shirts happen to be Cardinal-themed.
As for the other piece of news, my first and long-term favorite, Andy Pettitte, went back to the Yankees after playing out a three-year contract with the Astros. I'll admit it, I used to be a Yankees fan, but I have a good reason - I lived for four years in Columbus, Ohio, when I was young and watched their minor league team, the Columbus Clippers, including current catcher Jorge Posada. And I also discovered that the Clippers are no longer the AAA affiliate for the Yanks - they're for the Nationals. I feel betrayed.
But anyway, I have loved Andy for as long as I've known about baseball, no joke. If I was seven when I first discovered baseball - that would be 1995, we missed seeing Andy and Derek Jeter in the minors by one year - then I discovered him as soon as I looked into the MLB club that the Clippers, my first baseball loves, were affiliated with. (I can still sing your their rally jingle. Heavily paraphrased, it ran something like, "Guess which team is number one? They're the Columbus Clippers and they'll keep on playing till they've won -we’ll stand up and we’ll tell, Columbus Clippers, ring your bell.”) At which point everybody would clang the Clipper-themed cowbells which they gave away. This happened a lot. I have a lot of fond memories of my minor league baseball days. Ask me sometimes.
But, well, yeah. Andy. Since I have loved the man for 11 years, cried like a baby when he left the Yankees for the Astros, have a picture and a street sign (“46 Andy Pettitte Avenue") above my bed, and an Andy bobblehead… let’s just say I can’t root against him. For Christ's sake, when I was still playing Barbies with my sister, Andy was one of the recurring characters in our invented town. It would be amazing to get tickets for his first start back at the Stadium – the Bronx faithful still love him, and then I could happily boo A-Rod for the rest of the game.
As a final note, does anybody think the amount of money being thrown at mediocrity is out of control? Gil Freakin' Meche, who has a career record of 55-44, got $55 million over five years from the Kansas City Freakin' Royals. Match made in heaven, and you can definitely tell that that was a deal made all about the money, as the Royals have less chance of competing for a pennant than I do of turning their signature blue color. Ted Lilly got $40 million over 4 years from the Cubs, and of course, the new albatross contract was also doled out by the North Siders - $136 m. over 8 years for Alfonso Soriano. Just because the market is thin doesn't mean that GMs need to go absolutely berserk over the uninspiring talent. Must be nice to be rich (said the college student bitterly).
I think I need to a) take out the trash, b) use the bathroom, and c) edit my writing project now, so it’s time to wrap this up. Naturally, it ended up being longer than I expected, but at least no, I am not dead. Check back at the end of this week, as it may be a different story then.
(After fourth or fifth attempt to publish this: Blogger, what the fuck characters aren't allowed?)
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