I was down in Houston for a few days and caught an Astros game at Minute Maid Park during interleague play. The Rays were in town and we rolled out the red carpet for them. These days the Astros are the cure for whatever ails you. Pitching a little shaky? Having trouble at the plate? We are the answer to your prayers. The Rays don't need help on the mound so we chipped right in and made their struggling line-up look like murderers row. And when their pitchers did give up a few hits, we ran ourselves silly on the basepaths in rare and creative ways.
I couldn't help but look over to the Crawford boxes in left field where I sat in 2005 for the team's only World Series appearance. They lost, but at least they got there. Now they are playing like a AA team -- okay one day and awful the next and sorely lacking in big league talent. What the heck has happened to this team? Uninspiring draft choices, revolving door coaching staff, bad trades, that's what.
I remembered the crowd at the Series game against the White Sox. I made fun of the ridiculously long lines at the team store and the women with the big hair whose husbands told them lies as they chatted through the game. Most guys only sound like they know what they're talking about at a ballgame. That crowd isn't here anymore.
This crowd watched the Astros lose another uninspiring game with no Bagwell, Biggio or Berkman to cheer for. And the record they set? Fastest team to 50 losses. Yahoooo0.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Why It's fun and why it's different
Last night after I'd once again given up on the Washington Nationals and gone to bed, they came back against the Seattle Mariners, scored five runs in the bottom of the ninth inning and won the game.
I should have known better. The Nats are no longer the scratching post of Major League baseball. They can hit, they run the bases aggressively and their pitching usually keeps them in the ballgame. And, one might say, they have an attitude. The attitude is: we can win and, oh yeah, this game is fun.
After Wilson Ramos the rookie catcher who won the game with a home run and his teammates were finished celebrating, one of the relief pitchers said it best: "We're jumping up like we're 5 years old and won a tee ball game and we're getting a sno cone after. It's fun. It shows you what this game is about." That was Collin Ballester who had just held the Mariners scoreless in the seventh and eighth innings in the game I'd given up for lost.
What's interesting about all this is how irrevelant the starting pitching was to the outcome of the game. Used to be that you won or lost based largely on your starting pitching. But last night's game is symptomatic of a shift in this paradigm. The Nats starter, Livan Hernandez, usually a tough match up for opponents (and a lot of fun to watch) just didn't have it. He only lasted five. On the other hand, the Mariners starter was terrific. Doug Fister went eight innings and gave up only three hits and one earned run. Yet he did not come out to pitch the ninth and the Mariners relief corps didn't hold a 5 to 1 lead.
I'm sure Eric Wedge, the Mariners manager had his reasons for taking out a starter who the Nats obviously couldn't hit. But why fix something that isn't broken? Why not trust the guy who got you there? The guys who are in the bullpen are usually there because they're not as good as your starters. Just sayin'.
I should have known better. The Nats are no longer the scratching post of Major League baseball. They can hit, they run the bases aggressively and their pitching usually keeps them in the ballgame. And, one might say, they have an attitude. The attitude is: we can win and, oh yeah, this game is fun.
After Wilson Ramos the rookie catcher who won the game with a home run and his teammates were finished celebrating, one of the relief pitchers said it best: "We're jumping up like we're 5 years old and won a tee ball game and we're getting a sno cone after. It's fun. It shows you what this game is about." That was Collin Ballester who had just held the Mariners scoreless in the seventh and eighth innings in the game I'd given up for lost.
What's interesting about all this is how irrevelant the starting pitching was to the outcome of the game. Used to be that you won or lost based largely on your starting pitching. But last night's game is symptomatic of a shift in this paradigm. The Nats starter, Livan Hernandez, usually a tough match up for opponents (and a lot of fun to watch) just didn't have it. He only lasted five. On the other hand, the Mariners starter was terrific. Doug Fister went eight innings and gave up only three hits and one earned run. Yet he did not come out to pitch the ninth and the Mariners relief corps didn't hold a 5 to 1 lead.
I'm sure Eric Wedge, the Mariners manager had his reasons for taking out a starter who the Nats obviously couldn't hit. But why fix something that isn't broken? Why not trust the guy who got you there? The guys who are in the bullpen are usually there because they're not as good as your starters. Just sayin'.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Streak (Mercifully) Ends
A streak came to an end this afternoon at the Rogers Centre in Toronto. The Orioles won a close one over the Blue Jays, despite a lead off home run by Adam Lind in the bottom of the ninth off Kevin Gregg, the Orioles ulcer inducing closer.
The Orioles had lost 16 straight games up in Toronto dating back to August 2009, their longest road losing streak in team history. For much of the game, it appeared that they were trying for 17. Base running mistakes, stranded runners -- the usual formula for a loss. One player in particular seemed to be headed for goat of the game. Ryan Adams, a 24 year old from New Orleans with exactly seven major league games under his belt was having a bad day. He had grounded into three double plays, sending the stat guys into the record books to see if anyone had ever hit into four as he approached the plate in the ninth inning with the game (and the streak) on the line.
I was rooting for the kid to come through. I figured four double plays might be damaging to the psyche of anyone, let alone a rookie whose strong suit was supposed to be offense. He went deep in the count and hit a ground ball, but he hit it sharply and up the middle; it got through the infield and drove in the go-ahead run. I watched as he planted himself at first base, took a deep breath and probably said to himself: "Nice at bat, Ryan. This is where you belong."
The Orioles had lost 16 straight games up in Toronto dating back to August 2009, their longest road losing streak in team history. For much of the game, it appeared that they were trying for 17. Base running mistakes, stranded runners -- the usual formula for a loss. One player in particular seemed to be headed for goat of the game. Ryan Adams, a 24 year old from New Orleans with exactly seven major league games under his belt was having a bad day. He had grounded into three double plays, sending the stat guys into the record books to see if anyone had ever hit into four as he approached the plate in the ninth inning with the game (and the streak) on the line.
I was rooting for the kid to come through. I figured four double plays might be damaging to the psyche of anyone, let alone a rookie whose strong suit was supposed to be offense. He went deep in the count and hit a ground ball, but he hit it sharply and up the middle; it got through the infield and drove in the go-ahead run. I watched as he planted himself at first base, took a deep breath and probably said to himself: "Nice at bat, Ryan. This is where you belong."
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Why I Don't Watch Baseball on ESPN
Twenty plus years ago when ESPN started to carry major league baseball I was overjoyed. I figured I would have the opportunity to see every team and since I lived in a National League city I'd finally get to watch some American League games. My enthusiasm lasted for a while --after all when was the last time I'd seen the Orioles play the Blue Jays--but soon started to wane.
At first it was just the little things. Instead of saying: "it's the Dodgers and the Giants tonight" the promos were : "Mike Piazza and the Dodgers" vs. somebody and the Giants. A peculiar way to advertise a team game. Then there was the insufferable combination of Jon Miller and Joe Morgan whose over the top style of broadcasting quickly wore thin. And if two egos in the booth weren't enough, ESPN crammed in three. The blueprint seemed to be: one play-by-play guy, one ex-pitcher and one guy who retired last week. Ah, what I wouldn't give for Vin Scully broadcasting alone.
The final straw is the programing. They might as well come clean and just re-name the station ESPN:New York. Most teams are never shown. If you root for Milwaukee or Oakland or Detroit the only time you'll see your team is if they are playing the Yankees or the Mets. If your team won the World Series last year but they don't play in N.Y., then you'll probably see them a few times.
But the reason I don't watch baseball on ESPN anymore comes back to the broadcasters. I'm sure that all of the guys in the booth and the (completely unnecessary) on-field reporters really do like baseball. But they are so busy trying to show how knowledgable they are and how much they know, that the joy and enthusiasm they have has been lost. Relax, guys. It's just a baseball game. Learn how to enjoy it.
At first it was just the little things. Instead of saying: "it's the Dodgers and the Giants tonight" the promos were : "Mike Piazza and the Dodgers" vs. somebody and the Giants. A peculiar way to advertise a team game. Then there was the insufferable combination of Jon Miller and Joe Morgan whose over the top style of broadcasting quickly wore thin. And if two egos in the booth weren't enough, ESPN crammed in three. The blueprint seemed to be: one play-by-play guy, one ex-pitcher and one guy who retired last week. Ah, what I wouldn't give for Vin Scully broadcasting alone.
The final straw is the programing. They might as well come clean and just re-name the station ESPN:New York. Most teams are never shown. If you root for Milwaukee or Oakland or Detroit the only time you'll see your team is if they are playing the Yankees or the Mets. If your team won the World Series last year but they don't play in N.Y., then you'll probably see them a few times.
But the reason I don't watch baseball on ESPN anymore comes back to the broadcasters. I'm sure that all of the guys in the booth and the (completely unnecessary) on-field reporters really do like baseball. But they are so busy trying to show how knowledgable they are and how much they know, that the joy and enthusiasm they have has been lost. Relax, guys. It's just a baseball game. Learn how to enjoy it.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Summertime
Classic baseball: the Cubs against the Cardinals in St. Louis on a 94 degree afternoon. It's a rivalry that goes well beyond the city limits. The Cardinals and the Cubs are regional teams, drawing from all over the heartland from Kentucky, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana and the deep south. In some cases it's a generational tie; you are a Cubs fan because your father and his father were Cubs fans. But for them it may have been a question of which radio station came in clearest on those summer nights and afternoons. Pop was a Cardinals fan and KMOX was the station his massive box radio was always tuned to.
Yesterday's Fox Game of the Week was the Cubs against the Cardinals and despite the early June date the heat and humidity were mid-August all the way. By the late innings, the home plate umpire was soaked and I'm sure the beer vendors made a killing. The game itself was vintage Cubs-Cardinals, a seesaw battle with a bit of everything. The starters for both clubs were out by the sixth inning. Only problem was the game went 12.
Albert Pujols, who had already hit one home run and a double won it in the 12th with a walk-off home run off Cubs sixth pitcher of the day. The last pitch was a slider, and not a bad one, but Pujols was ready for it. In fact, everyone in the ballpark probably knew what was coming. And when Pujols guesses right, you're not going to get it by him, even if it's your best pitch.
And so the rivalry continues. The sons and grandsons and daughters and granddaughters of the farmers and railroad men who tinkered with their radios until they got the game just right can tell their kids they saw Albert Pujols hit one out.
Yesterday's Fox Game of the Week was the Cubs against the Cardinals and despite the early June date the heat and humidity were mid-August all the way. By the late innings, the home plate umpire was soaked and I'm sure the beer vendors made a killing. The game itself was vintage Cubs-Cardinals, a seesaw battle with a bit of everything. The starters for both clubs were out by the sixth inning. Only problem was the game went 12.
Albert Pujols, who had already hit one home run and a double won it in the 12th with a walk-off home run off Cubs sixth pitcher of the day. The last pitch was a slider, and not a bad one, but Pujols was ready for it. In fact, everyone in the ballpark probably knew what was coming. And when Pujols guesses right, you're not going to get it by him, even if it's your best pitch.
And so the rivalry continues. The sons and grandsons and daughters and granddaughters of the farmers and railroad men who tinkered with their radios until they got the game just right can tell their kids they saw Albert Pujols hit one out.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The Major Leaguer
The other night I was watching a game in Frederick, Maryland between the single A affiliates of the Baltimore Orioles and the Texas Rangers. I go up there a lot. For nine dollars, you can get a great seat ten minutes before game time, park for free and drink local beers on a beautiful summer night. The baseball isn't always perfect but you can't beat the price or the atmosphere.
I noticed that the guy seating behind me had a radar gun and we started to talk. He's a scout for Atlanta and he covers the Carolina and South Atlantic leagues. He stays in each town long enough to see every player, often five games, and then moves on to the next town. We talked about some of the towns and the stadiums he covers and when I realized he'd just been to Hagestown, I asked about the Nationals uberprospect, Bryce Harper, ("that kid is the real deal") as we worked our way through the game.
Talk soon turned to his own experiences playing ball. Turns out my new friend pitched for one year, 1957, in the majors for the St. Louis Cardinals and also managed in their minor league system. He showed me the World Series ring he wears from their championship in 1982. It was gorgeous.
The more we talked, the more I realized what a grind his scouting life really was. He covers a territory from Kentucky through the Carolinas and Virginia and on up to Maryland, moving through small towns and single A ball parks, staying in each until he'd seen every player. But I guess baseball was the only life he knew and he'd been at it for almost 60 years.
When the game was ending, he reached into his bag and pulled out his baseball card and handed me one. Curiousity got the better of me and when I got home I looked him up. Sure enough, he pitched in relief in 1957 for the Cardinals and had won one game. And next year he turns 80 years old. I am lucky to have met him.
I noticed that the guy seating behind me had a radar gun and we started to talk. He's a scout for Atlanta and he covers the Carolina and South Atlantic leagues. He stays in each town long enough to see every player, often five games, and then moves on to the next town. We talked about some of the towns and the stadiums he covers and when I realized he'd just been to Hagestown, I asked about the Nationals uberprospect, Bryce Harper, ("that kid is the real deal") as we worked our way through the game.
Talk soon turned to his own experiences playing ball. Turns out my new friend pitched for one year, 1957, in the majors for the St. Louis Cardinals and also managed in their minor league system. He showed me the World Series ring he wears from their championship in 1982. It was gorgeous.
The more we talked, the more I realized what a grind his scouting life really was. He covers a territory from Kentucky through the Carolinas and Virginia and on up to Maryland, moving through small towns and single A ball parks, staying in each until he'd seen every player. But I guess baseball was the only life he knew and he'd been at it for almost 60 years.
When the game was ending, he reached into his bag and pulled out his baseball card and handed me one. Curiousity got the better of me and when I got home I looked him up. Sure enough, he pitched in relief in 1957 for the Cardinals and had won one game. And next year he turns 80 years old. I am lucky to have met him.
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