Tag: MLB (Page 6 of 9)

The Colorado Rockies are in the World Series? Seriously? I must admit, I never thought I’d see that happen. To be honest, I didn’t actually <em>see</em> much of it, thanks to those 10 PM eastern starts. I caught a few innings here-and-there either at the beginning of games, or on the nights when my cough kept me awake and I went downstairs for awhile.

It’s a shame most of the country has missed their run, because it is one of the most remarkable runs in sports, ever. Pro sports teams just don’t run off 22 game stretches where they win 95% of the time. Especially when pretty much every game in that stretch has been do-or-die. At least we’ll get to appreciate them in the World Series, which means they’ll fall apart completely and America will wonder what the big deal was all about.

In the AL, the series is on the verge of becoming very good if you’re a true baseball fan. Although the Indians have won the past two games, the battles between Cleveland pitchers and Boston batters have been incredible. I love watching pitchers and batters match wits, with at bats lasting 10, 12, 15 pitches. If the Red Sox had to trail in the series, it makes sense that it comes down to the ultimate team guy, Tim Wakefield, to save their bacon tonight.

I’m having trouble finding a reason to root against Cleveland. Well, there is one big reason not to. The mascot. We can argue all day about the use of Native American mascots in sports (I think they’re wrong. “Honoring” them? Give me a break. So we stole their land, used horrible, crude methods of biological warfare to kill them off, broke nearly every treaty we ever signed with them, then relegated them to reservations that might as well have been in Third World countries guaranteeing most would never have an equal opportunity for success in life, then we “honor” them by naming sports teams after their noble, warrior spirits? Please.) but there is no defending using a big, red-faced Indian with a crazy grin on his face as a mascot. Aside from Chief Wahoo, the Indians might have the best uniforms in the league. I love the color scheme and options they use. But the big Chief needs to go. A few baseball blogs have been referring to the Cleveland ballclub as the Spiders, since that name was once used by the franchise. I dig that. A lot of cool options for logos and merchandising. They should make the change now.

I must admit, though, my favorite thing about the playoffs is Manny Ramirez. I think he’s the most misunderstood player in baseball. People tend to think he’s a clueless space cadet who only cares about himself. There’s certainly an element of truth to that, but I don’t think it gets to what he’s really all about.

First, he’s one of the greatest hitters I’ve ever seen. Even when he makes an out, you can see that he’s working hard to get the bat on the ball and put it in the right place on the field. There are all kinds of stories about how other players marvel at his approach to each at bat, how he has a plan for what he’s going to do on every single pitch. There are even stories, and I’m not sure if they’re apocryphal or not, about how he intentionally misses pitches in order to set the pitcher up to throw them again later in the game, or even later in the season. I love when Manny strolls around the batter’s box between pitches, looking up into the sky. I get the impression he’s either thinking, “Now this guy threw me a splitter away on this same count two months ago and got me looking. But, his splitter hasn’t been working tonight, so he’ll probably come with something fast inside since he’s gone with that pitch on 2-2 counts 75% of the time over the last six weeks in night games playing in relative humidities below 65%.” -or- “I like birds. Their chirping makes me happy. I think I’ll buy a bird tonight. When I get back to the dugout, I’ll ask Papi if he knows a good place to buy birds.”

What I really love about Manny, though, is his child-like enthusiasm. When things are going good, he seems genuinely happy, as child who is joyful when playing. I love the way he chats up other players while on the bases, clearly joking around with them. When he makes a catch in the outfield that is a little more difficult than it should have been, I love the sheepish grin he gives his teammates, and the pointing back at them when they acknowledge his effort as if to say, “You didn’t think I’d get that?” Even his celebratory admirations of his home runs make me laugh. When Barry Bonds is clearly preening and making sure he’s the center of attention, Manny, again, comes across like a kid. “Did you see what I just did? Isn’t that cool? Isn’t this fun?!” Instead of macho posturing, he brings the basic love of the game too many players lose while they’re making the transition from kid to adult. Cleveland might rock, but Manny definitely rocks.

Rick Ankiel. Apparently I’m supposed to be shocked, appalled, devastated, and disappointed by the revelations that Cardinal outfielder Ankiel received shipments of HGH three years ago. Over the weekend the sports pages, airwaves, and blogosphere were full of people expressing strong sentiments about the news. I kept wondering why.

First, I didn’t understand why Ankiel wasn’t subjected to the same assumptions that any other baseball player who suddenly performs at an exceptional level is subjected to. What about Ankiel made people think it was perfectly reasonable for him to get called up to the majors and immediately begin abusing pitchers without tossing around the J word? (The J word is juicing for those of you who haven’t been following along.) Instead, he was dubbed The Natural, which in the age of pharmaceuticals, clearly meant more than just having a sweet swing.

As I read a stream of outraged reactions over the weekend, I wondered why these people were so outraged. Haven’t we decided that everyone is at least under suspicion or at worst doing something more than just working out and eating their Wheaties? Were these people really outraged about what Ankiel was accused of, or where they just mad at themselves for forgetting about the times we live in and believing in someone for a moment?

Ankiel seems to be the textbook example of a player who would use PEDs. Most of the players who have tested positive since MLB began testing have been marginal players looking for the edge they need to stay in the league. Ankiel is much more talented than most of those players, but his situation is unique. He was a can’t-miss prospect who made it, then flamed out in as spectacular of a fashion as anyone has ever done. When he had a chance to remold himself and reclaim his career, wouldn’t it make perfect sense for him to look for a little something extra to make sure he returned to the majors? I’m not sure I understand how he earned the Clean card.

(Please note, I’m not implying that Ankiel has continued to use HGH or any other PED or saying that his story isn’t a great one.)

His case points out the problems with PEDs and why I’ve found it difficult to get too worked up about them. The line of what is legal is always moving. When reporters found andro in Mark McGwire’s locker in 1998, it was legal. A year later it was not. When Ankiel was allegedly using HGH, it was legal. Today it is a banned substance. If, and this is obviously a big if, Ankiel is clean today, how can we prosecute, castigate, or label him? If he’s always operated under the rules of the game, but changes in those rules alter how we view his past behaviors, how do we hold him responsible for that?

I hope players are clean, but I think most players are using something. Why wouldn’t you, if you could effectively mask what you were using or found something that there was no test for, be tempted to trade long-term health issues for a chance to make millions of dollars? If you know the people you’re competing with for roster spots are using, I imagine it is pretty easy to make the decision to use as well. That’s the reality of the times we live in, and it’s difficult for me to heap scorn on the few people we have proof have used when chances are most of the players I enjoy watching have probably used something during their careers as well.

What was most disturbing about the Ankiel case was how it was such a hot story and overshadowed the Troy Glaus story that broke at the same time. If you missed that, Glaus, the 2002 World Series MVP, was accused of receiving steroids over a two year period. The Angels beat Barry Bonds’ Giants in the ’02 Series, despite Bonds going nuts over those seven games. If the Giants had won, think of how many people would have called for an asterisk to be placed next to the result once Barry’s alleged steroid use became public knowledge. There would have been the outcry to end all outcries. I haven’t heard a peep about Glaus’ role in the Series and affect on its outcome. Somehow, the Ankiel story is more important. All because a bunch of people bought into his story without questioning him the way they would question any other player.

One last note, we went to dinner Saturday with a friend who is a big Cardinals fan. Naturally, I asked him what he thought about the issue. After talking through the details for a while, he said this. “If I was Mark Cuban, and had more money than I could ever spend, I would start investigating every single Met since 1986 to see what they were on.” It was the New York Daily News that broke the Ankiel story. To my friend, payback meant going after every Met. It was good to see some old fashioned, mid-80s NL East hate!

Now Playing: <strong>The Drugs Don’t Work</strong> from the album “Live from Mars” by <a href=”http://www.google.com/search?q=%22Ben%20Harper%20&amp;%20The%20Innocent%20Criminals%22″>Ben Harper &#038; The Innocent Criminals</a>

It’s opening day, excuse me, Opening Day. I’m preparing for a ten hour orgy of baseball with a little college hoops thrown in for good measure. S. is working tonight, so I’ve already instructed the girls that there will be no nonsense tonight as daddy gets his baseball on. I’ve already got ESPN on, and checked in on a few games on MLB Audio. The Internets are a beautiful thing.
I think the Royals are going to surprise a lot of people this year. They’re a lock to win at least 67 games this year. You heard it here first.
Our “local” team, the Reds – determined by what games we get – surprised last year, staying in the NL Central race until the final week. As a reward for their good play, we get something like 30 more games this year than last year in Indy. Unfortunately, the Indy TV market will not be rewarded, as the Reds struggle to get past 75 wins. The Josh Hamilton signing will prove to be a brilliant gamble, though.
Playoff teams in the AL will be the Red Sox, Yankees, Twins, and Angels. NL will be Mets, Phillies, Cards, and Dodgers. The Red Sox will beat the Dodgers in the World Series. Again, you heard it here first.

I was drafting a post about how it was a tough night for my many St. Louis friends when I got a strange feeling. The Colts had just extended their lead over the Rams to 11 points. I closed the draft, set the PowerBook aside, and flipped the picture-in-picture so I could focus on Albert Pujols, who was batting for the Cardinals. Down two runs, two outs, two on, top of the ninth. BOOM. I’m sure my Cards fan friends were doing their own voodoo, but I think the fact I gave the game my full attention had something to do with Albert’s massive blast that won the game and forced a sixth game in the NLCS.

Thank you, Albert, for keeping the Cardinals alive and insuring that I get to watch at least one more night of baseball this week.

Sorry, Rams fans. I care not about your team’s fortunes.

I made it to the 8th inning in last night’s MLB All-Star game, which I believe is the latest I’ve made it in 4-5 years. See, it’s not just fatherhood that slows you down!

My man DTS posted some thoughts about the All-Star game yesterday. Perhaps it’s the difference between growing up in St. Louis and Kansas City, because I always loved the All-Star break. Maybe Cards fans were always comfortable with knowing people nationally understood what St. Louis baseball was all about, while those of us in the western half of the state saw George Brett, Amos Otis, and Frank White’s annual trips to the game as a chance to share with the world how great baseball was in Kansas City at the time. Or maybe DTS and I are just different.

Regardless, I loved the pageantry of the game. All-Star week always felt a little like a family picnic to me. There were Yankees and Royals and Red Sox and Orioles and A’s all joining forces for a day. The players seemed to find the perfect measure of taking the game seriously, yet understanding it was an opportunity to relax a bit. (Witness the players who came onto the field in white shoes back in the day. I always wanted to see someone from the A’s or Astros come out in black shoes.) The game was perfectly timed so players, fans, and analysts could take a breath and reflect on what had happened so far in the season. Who were the rookie sensations, the teams playing over their heads, the disappointments? How were the pennant races lining up? What trends had sustained themselves over the first three months of the season?

My first sports bet ever (at least that I remember) was over an All-Star game. I bet my uncle a nickel that the AL would win in 1979. Man did I hate Dave Parker for launching those missiles from deep right field that kept me from winning!

The league I spent most of my playing years in did not have an All-Star game. When I finally hopped over to one that did, it was a huge deal for me when I made the All-Star team my second year (summer after 8th grade). I was usually a pretty calm guy on the field, but when I went out to warm up my buddy who was the starting pitcher, I could feel the extra eyes on me, the buzz in the crowd, and the subtle acknowledgment from parents and coaches in the crowd, “That kid who’s catching can really hit.” (I was 1-2 with a stolen base that day. No errors in my chances at first base.)
I did fall out of love with the MLB All-Star game in the 90s, but then again, I was falling out of love with baseball at the same time, too. The home run derby seemed more important and exciting. Despite being a loyal American League fan, their dominance over the NL became boring. I had better things to do. Then, of course, came the disaster three years ago. As I’ve rediscovered my love for baseball over the past couple years, so too have I found the joys of the All-Star game. It’s not the same as when I was a kid, but what generation doesn’t say that? It is fun and interesting to me again, though.
It was weird watching Mike Piazza bat last night. He looked old, slow, and clearly on the downward spiral of his career. He had one of the most vicious swings I’ve ever seen. Now much of the violence in it is gone. It’s funny how your own age determines how you view others. When I was a kid, seeing older players like Yaz and Pops play in the All-Star game, they didn’t seem any less athletic than the young guys. They had an aura about them that maintained their greatness.
Can we please get rid of the idiotic slogan “This One Counts!”? It clearly doesn’t, since Eric Gagne’s blown save two years ago didn’t interrupt his saves record, and Kenny Rogers’ suspension did not cover last night’s game. And don’t get me started on the whole home field thing. I wrote plenty about that last year.
I watched last night’s game on the couch, using my brother-in-law’s PowerBook to tap out another draft for my grad school personal statement while S. read a book on the loveseat. Last year, we were out for our anniversary dinner then put our infant carseats in our two vehicles when we got home. Two years ago? In St. Lucia on our honeymoon, passed out from sun and wine by the third inning. Three years ago? In Colorado Springs on a business trip. I had a 6:00 AM flight back to KC the next day, so went to bed long before a tie was declared. Idiots.

Thoughts accumulated during the Red Sox series clinching game four win in St. Louis.
So if people all over New England were waiting for the Red Sox to win a World Series before they died, should John Kerry be concerned about losing potential voters between now and Tuesday? Seriously, I think a lot of bitter, old New Englanders that have been holding on a little too long are going to collapse in heaps of hysteria in the coming days. Those states may not be so blue Tuesday morning.
The Sox win the World Series. Their center fielder looks curiously like what most people of European origin believe Jesus looked like. Should we be concerned?
While we’re on the subject of Johnny Damon, after he socked his first inning home run (You knew someone would hit one out in the top of the first), S. said, “I guess that’s what Johnny would do.” She was pretty pleased with that line.
I think Lonnie Smith would have felt at home on the Red Sox when they played the field. They made even the simplest plays look amazingly difficult at times.
In a series that had few highlights for Cards fans, Albert Pujols stop and throw home in the 8th was an absolutely incredible play. In a close series, that gets replayed for decades like Brooks Robinson diving on the Cincinnati turf in 1970.
Why the hell was Fox showing shots of bars in New York? Shouldn’t they have had 50 cameras perched inside 50 different bars in Boston?
Dumb stat of the series: each time Fox would show the “largest deficit” either team had come back from in World Series history, or something like that. Like the Cards coming back from three down to beat the Brewers in game 2 of the ’82 World Series had any bearing at all on what happened in this series. Throw that stat up AFTER the Cards come back from three down, not before.
Best line in the post-game press room, Manny Ramirez, “God has given me a lot of good stuff.” What is this, Christmas morning?
I hope my brother-in-law, who professed to me over the summer that he wanted the Sox to win this year so he could riot, is safe on the streets of Boston tonight. Seems he had papers due after both Patriots Super Bowl wins, so he could only watch from his dorm window.
The Curse is over, and thank God so the rest of us don’t have to freaking hear about it anymore. Sure, the Sox are just another big market team with a payroll the Royals would take three years to match. But the Sox are a unique entity. Cursed not by the Bambino, but by having a rival that will perpetually have more resources with which to obtain talent. Cursed by being a historic, regional franchise that perhaps only the Cardinals resemble. Each April they carry the hopes of not just a city, but an entire corner of the country. Each time a team other than the Yankees wins the World Series, I think of all the little kids who live and die for their team getting to experience the joy of a World Championship. Tonight, I’m thinking of old men from Maine to Cape Cod who have been sitting on the porch with a radio tuned to WEEI for five decades; old women who have been going to games for 50 years and know when the manager is making a terrible mistake in pulling the starter. I have many friends who are Cards fans, and I feel your pain tonight, but this is a special night in the history of baseball. Well done, Red Sox. Now celebrate safely and spend wisely in the off-season so we can join forces against the Yankees again next October.

Prepare to be bombarded tomorrow by articles and columns claiming we saw “vintage Pedro Martinez” tonight. That was not the case. However, Petey was exceptionally impressive over his last four innings. He can’t hit 97 and blow people away anymore, but when he’s on and pitching smart, like tonight, it’s a thing of beauty. So do Sox fans start to relax knowing they have four games to win one, or does the traditional pessimism still hold, especially after what they did to New York?
If the Sox do close the Cards out, the sequence in the ninth inning against Mariano Rivera in game four of the ALCS will be documented in as great detail as the fourth quarter and overtime of the Patriots-Raiders playoff game three years ago.
Of all the mildly inappropriate and slightly blasphemous t-shirts celebrating the similarity of Johnny Damon to the commonly believed image of Jesus, I think my favorite is the one that says “Johnny Is My Homeboy”. I say that several times a day and laugh.
New Fox low of the night: Chris Meyers speaking with “Leon” of Budweiser commercial fame and basically reading the script of one of the commercials while play was going on. I know they were in St. Louis and all, but that was truly, truly awful. While less offensive, Meyers’ attempt to interview the Walker brothers during a tense portion of the game was also brutal. As always, Fox finds a way to fuck up a perfectly good sporting event.
People I hate: All these idiots who said all summer long that the Cardinals didn’t have enough starting pitching to get through the playoffs. They will smugly remind us all of their theory unless the Cards win the next four games. Of course, that completely ignores the fact they managed to win the requisite seven post-season games that qualify a team for the World Series. Roger Clemens and Roy Oswaldt are sitting at home. As are Pryor, Wood, Clement, and Zambrano of the Cubs. The starting pitching may have let them down in the series, but I think the Cards can be plenty happy of how much they got out of their rotation this year.