3 days after the trade deadline, and I'm once again bouncing around the internet looking for news. This time, I'm eagerly awaiting word that the Sox have picked up Javy Lopez from the O's for some pocket lint and Matt Clement's pantyhose. This is what it's come down to - Javy Lopez as The Savior. That can't be good, right?
I feel like I'm playing the Mark McKinney role in the classic 'Kids in the Hall' sketch.
"Lopez"
"Lopez?"
"Hey, Lopez"
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Loretta
Game 106 – Red Sox
Red Sox 6, Indians 5
Record: 64-42
And on the 7th day, Papi rested. (Ducking.)
So the Legend of Ortiz grows. His presence looming in the on-deck circle contributed directly to Fausto Carmona’s subconscious decision to groove a fastball to Mark Loretta. Too much? Yeah, okay.
In truth, Papi was abysmal last night, but Loretta’s 2-out, 2-run double in the bottom of the 9th made unlikely winners out of the Sox. Down to their last strike with Doug Mirabelli at the plate and nobody on base, the Sox basically stood by and watched as Carmona hit Mirabelli and Alex Gonzalez with consecutive pitches then walked Kevin Youkilis to load the bases to set up Loretta’s heroics. As the rally built and the crowd grew more and more animated, Indians skipper Eric Wedge looked for all the world like a guy going through an anesthetic-free colonoscopy.
The Sox benefited from the fact that the Indians playoff chances have long since gone the way of Cory Snyder and Joe Charbonneau. If last night’s game had mattered to the Tribe, Carmona would have been yanked after plunking Gonzalez, especially on the heels of his implosion on Monday night. Hell, if the Indians were still in the race, Bob Wickman would still be manning the back end of the bullpen instead of tearing it up in Atlanta and the Sox might be staring at a 4-game losing streak.
Jon Lester showed once again why Theo and the front office were so reluctant to move him at the trade deadline, recovering from a rocky first inning to post another rock-solid outing. The Tribe battered the young lefty for 3 runs on 4 ringing hits in the top of the 1st, and given a chance to throw in the towel and take a beating, Lester fought back to shut out the talented Indian offense over the next 5 frames. Manny Delcarmen and Jon Papelbon spun perfect innings, leaving old guy Mike Timlin as the only pitcher on the evening with a less-than-glowing report card. Travis Hafner has a way of doing that to pitchers of all stripes. It’s a shame he doesn’t get more press, because he’s arguably the most fearsome hitter in the world right now. Well, second-most fearsome.
Wily Mo Pena hit the most ferocious line drive homer I can recall to give the Sox a short-lived 4-3 lead in the bottom of the 6th – Jerry Remy just laughed as the ball rocketed off the facing of the Monster seats and caromed back towards the infield. Wily Mo’s doing his part to make Sox fans forget that other right-fielder, ol’ whatshisname. If only he could play catcher. Pena’s also growing a Papi-style beard, perhaps in hopes of capturing some of no. 34’s magic.
Coco Crisp and Gonzalez combined on a sick defensive play to keep the Sox in the game in the 6th inning, Crisp running deep into centerfield to snare a fly against the wall and Gonzalez sprinting to flag down Crisp’s errant throw (I’m afraid that phrase is a bit redundant) and flip it to first to double up a stunned Victor Martinez.
Yet another heart-stopping win for the Crashcart Sox – that makes 6 walk-off victories since June 10. If they’re not careful, they’re gonna start raising expectations.
Red Sox 6, Indians 5
Record: 64-42
And on the 7th day, Papi rested. (Ducking.)
So the Legend of Ortiz grows. His presence looming in the on-deck circle contributed directly to Fausto Carmona’s subconscious decision to groove a fastball to Mark Loretta. Too much? Yeah, okay.
In truth, Papi was abysmal last night, but Loretta’s 2-out, 2-run double in the bottom of the 9th made unlikely winners out of the Sox. Down to their last strike with Doug Mirabelli at the plate and nobody on base, the Sox basically stood by and watched as Carmona hit Mirabelli and Alex Gonzalez with consecutive pitches then walked Kevin Youkilis to load the bases to set up Loretta’s heroics. As the rally built and the crowd grew more and more animated, Indians skipper Eric Wedge looked for all the world like a guy going through an anesthetic-free colonoscopy.
The Sox benefited from the fact that the Indians playoff chances have long since gone the way of Cory Snyder and Joe Charbonneau. If last night’s game had mattered to the Tribe, Carmona would have been yanked after plunking Gonzalez, especially on the heels of his implosion on Monday night. Hell, if the Indians were still in the race, Bob Wickman would still be manning the back end of the bullpen instead of tearing it up in Atlanta and the Sox might be staring at a 4-game losing streak.
Jon Lester showed once again why Theo and the front office were so reluctant to move him at the trade deadline, recovering from a rocky first inning to post another rock-solid outing. The Tribe battered the young lefty for 3 runs on 4 ringing hits in the top of the 1st, and given a chance to throw in the towel and take a beating, Lester fought back to shut out the talented Indian offense over the next 5 frames. Manny Delcarmen and Jon Papelbon spun perfect innings, leaving old guy Mike Timlin as the only pitcher on the evening with a less-than-glowing report card. Travis Hafner has a way of doing that to pitchers of all stripes. It’s a shame he doesn’t get more press, because he’s arguably the most fearsome hitter in the world right now. Well, second-most fearsome.
Wily Mo Pena hit the most ferocious line drive homer I can recall to give the Sox a short-lived 4-3 lead in the bottom of the 6th – Jerry Remy just laughed as the ball rocketed off the facing of the Monster seats and caromed back towards the infield. Wily Mo’s doing his part to make Sox fans forget that other right-fielder, ol’ whatshisname. If only he could play catcher. Pena’s also growing a Papi-style beard, perhaps in hopes of capturing some of no. 34’s magic.
Coco Crisp and Gonzalez combined on a sick defensive play to keep the Sox in the game in the 6th inning, Crisp running deep into centerfield to snare a fly against the wall and Gonzalez sprinting to flag down Crisp’s errant throw (I’m afraid that phrase is a bit redundant) and flip it to first to double up a stunned Victor Martinez.
Yet another heart-stopping win for the Crashcart Sox – that makes 6 walk-off victories since June 10. If they’re not careful, they’re gonna start raising expectations.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Sleeping in the Flowers
Game 105 – Red Sox
Indians 6, Red Sox 3
Record: 63-42
Pundits and politicians decry the soft bigotry of low expectations, but they’re missing the point when it comes to baseball. I prefer to revel in the comforting freedom of low expectations. With 57 games to play, I’m all set to bask in that snuggly place for the remainder of the 2006 season.
Yesterday brought news that Jason Varitek’s injured knee will require surgery that will keep him on the shelf for 4-6 weeks. Ladies and gentlemen, the starting catchers for yourrrr Boston Red Sox: Doug Mirabelli and Ken Huckaby. In Huckaby, at least, the Sox have a proven Jeter-killer, assuming he can lure the Yankee shortstop, fragrance show pony, and all-around great guy into a headlong lunge towards a pair of shinguards.
Couple the Varitek news with Trot Nixon’s bicep injury, Tim Wakefield’s slow-to-heal ribcage, David Wells' 43 year-oldness, and Matt Clement’s apparently season-ending psyche bruise, and the Sox face the prospect of limping through the rest of the campaign with serious holes at several key positions. For all the hue and cry about the Yankees’ perseverance in the face of adversity, the Sox are facing bigger health-related questions than their rivals at a far more critical juncture.
Call it a defense mechanism (as my colleague does just below), call it creeping Lou Holtzism, call it whatever you want – for the first time since we started this enterprise 3 years ago, I don’t expect the Sox to make the playoffs. The gorge is too far, and their engine missing too many parts to hurtle this particular red, white, and blue rocket to the other side. I’m not happy with this observation, but that doesn’t make it less accurate. It does, however, make me less likely to lose my mind sometime in the next 90 days. At least my 'oh, shit' moment didn't hurt as much as Evel Knievel's.
From the Era of Positivity to the Period of Tranquil Resignation. Acceptance of reality is the soul of sanity.
Indians 6, Red Sox 3
Record: 63-42
Pundits and politicians decry the soft bigotry of low expectations, but they’re missing the point when it comes to baseball. I prefer to revel in the comforting freedom of low expectations. With 57 games to play, I’m all set to bask in that snuggly place for the remainder of the 2006 season.
Yesterday brought news that Jason Varitek’s injured knee will require surgery that will keep him on the shelf for 4-6 weeks. Ladies and gentlemen, the starting catchers for yourrrr Boston Red Sox: Doug Mirabelli and Ken Huckaby. In Huckaby, at least, the Sox have a proven Jeter-killer, assuming he can lure the Yankee shortstop, fragrance show pony, and all-around great guy into a headlong lunge towards a pair of shinguards.
Couple the Varitek news with Trot Nixon’s bicep injury, Tim Wakefield’s slow-to-heal ribcage, David Wells' 43 year-oldness, and Matt Clement’s apparently season-ending psyche bruise, and the Sox face the prospect of limping through the rest of the campaign with serious holes at several key positions. For all the hue and cry about the Yankees’ perseverance in the face of adversity, the Sox are facing bigger health-related questions than their rivals at a far more critical juncture.
Call it a defense mechanism (as my colleague does just below), call it creeping Lou Holtzism, call it whatever you want – for the first time since we started this enterprise 3 years ago, I don’t expect the Sox to make the playoffs. The gorge is too far, and their engine missing too many parts to hurtle this particular red, white, and blue rocket to the other side. I’m not happy with this observation, but that doesn’t make it less accurate. It does, however, make me less likely to lose my mind sometime in the next 90 days. At least my 'oh, shit' moment didn't hurt as much as Evel Knievel's.
From the Era of Positivity to the Period of Tranquil Resignation. Acceptance of reality is the soul of sanity.
Bang and Blame
Game 105 – Mets
Marlins 6, Mets 5
Record: 63-42
I must be a Billy Wagner apologist. Wags was so obviously the dog of this game, and yet my frustration over this winnable loss seems scattered over a handful of culpable parties. Interesting, if only to me.
Relatively speaking, Billy Wagner has given away leads like he was Shelley “The Machine” Levene. When he’s on, he’s the Wagner Power Painter, blowing batters away while brush-stroking the corners. When he’s not, his fastball becomes as overtly complex as Jackson Pollock’s minimalist works (say, White Paint on White Canvas), and the result becomes one of Pollock’s bizarre splatter pieces. Such was the case last night, as Josh brought down the Willinghammer with a pinch-hit, two-run game-terminator. An ugly finish to an ugly game, but Willingham has been on fire lately, and these things happen in the course of a season.
Meanwhile, I have a dose of probably misguided venom for Lastings Milledge. I don’t know what it is about this young phenom, but he’s been a burr in my saddle for a few weeks now. Maybe it’s the swagger he displays and ego he voices. Maybe it’s subconscious resentment because he’s here instead of Barry Zito or Jason Schmidt. (It’s a quick leap from critical to hypocritical for me.) Or Xavier Nady. Maybe it’s because he gave my old friend Jake the lousiest interview in recent memory. I just don’t know.
Whatever it is, he didn’t have enough of a stockpile of good will with this half of MLC, LLC to misjudge the very first ball hit at him, turning a third out into a rally-enabling single. Honestly, the Marlins announcers are know-nothings of the highest order, but they were seriously denigrating Milledge’s outfield skills to the point of laughter or pity. This guy is a centerfielder by trade, but rarely does that translate into a complete inability to man the corner slots. But this is a thorough overemphasis of a minor gaffe that only cost the Mets a run. Even though the final deficit was that one run, it’s clearly unfair to single Milledge out after the event we’ll call What Billy Did, but that’s where my ire instinctively went.
Oh, there and Mike Pelfrey, not for giving up a tater to Hanley Ramirez but a run-scoring double to the opposing pitcher, and Carlos Delgado for his slow lean on the double that got by him – has he made a very good defensive play in three months?
But ultimately, it’s just one game blown, so the need to determine blame isn’t even on the radar. It’s noteworthy, however, that when Rob (once again) sighs with somber resignation about his Red Sox, they pull off another inspired victory, while when I settle into my comfort zone, the Mets demonstrate that they can drop any contest to any putrid team at any time. Remember, the key to knowing everything is knowing that you know nothing. Or something like that.
Marlins 6, Mets 5
Record: 63-42
I must be a Billy Wagner apologist. Wags was so obviously the dog of this game, and yet my frustration over this winnable loss seems scattered over a handful of culpable parties. Interesting, if only to me.
Relatively speaking, Billy Wagner has given away leads like he was Shelley “The Machine” Levene. When he’s on, he’s the Wagner Power Painter, blowing batters away while brush-stroking the corners. When he’s not, his fastball becomes as overtly complex as Jackson Pollock’s minimalist works (say, White Paint on White Canvas), and the result becomes one of Pollock’s bizarre splatter pieces. Such was the case last night, as Josh brought down the Willinghammer with a pinch-hit, two-run game-terminator. An ugly finish to an ugly game, but Willingham has been on fire lately, and these things happen in the course of a season.
Meanwhile, I have a dose of probably misguided venom for Lastings Milledge. I don’t know what it is about this young phenom, but he’s been a burr in my saddle for a few weeks now. Maybe it’s the swagger he displays and ego he voices. Maybe it’s subconscious resentment because he’s here instead of Barry Zito or Jason Schmidt. (It’s a quick leap from critical to hypocritical for me.) Or Xavier Nady. Maybe it’s because he gave my old friend Jake the lousiest interview in recent memory. I just don’t know.
Whatever it is, he didn’t have enough of a stockpile of good will with this half of MLC, LLC to misjudge the very first ball hit at him, turning a third out into a rally-enabling single. Honestly, the Marlins announcers are know-nothings of the highest order, but they were seriously denigrating Milledge’s outfield skills to the point of laughter or pity. This guy is a centerfielder by trade, but rarely does that translate into a complete inability to man the corner slots. But this is a thorough overemphasis of a minor gaffe that only cost the Mets a run. Even though the final deficit was that one run, it’s clearly unfair to single Milledge out after the event we’ll call What Billy Did, but that’s where my ire instinctively went.
Oh, there and Mike Pelfrey, not for giving up a tater to Hanley Ramirez but a run-scoring double to the opposing pitcher, and Carlos Delgado for his slow lean on the double that got by him – has he made a very good defensive play in three months?
But ultimately, it’s just one game blown, so the need to determine blame isn’t even on the radar. It’s noteworthy, however, that when Rob (once again) sighs with somber resignation about his Red Sox, they pull off another inspired victory, while when I settle into my comfort zone, the Mets demonstrate that they can drop any contest to any putrid team at any time. Remember, the key to knowing everything is knowing that you know nothing. Or something like that.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Unbelievable
Game 104 – Red Sox
Red Sox 9, Indians 8
Record: 63-41
Just when I thought I was out, he pulled me back in.
I watched last night’s game in a state of nothing so much as ambivalence about the Sox’ fate. I made peace with the decision to stand pat for 2006, figuring the Sox have a shot and that’s all that reasonable fans can hope for in any given year and grudgingly approving of the strategy of protecting homegrown young talent. I muttered disapprovingly but calmly as David Wells’ looping curveballs were sent deep into the New England night by any number of Tribesmen, then lay stoically on the couch as a succession of mediocre Cleveland relief pitchers kept the Sox trailing, 8-6, through the game’s middle innings and into the 9th.
As the bottom of the final frame approached, I allowed myself the smallest of indulgences. “Just 1 guy needs to get on to give Papi a chance. That’s all I’m asking – give Papi a chance.” Had I not been alone in my living room, someone might have heard me sing that last line like John and Yoko did.
When first Alex Cora reached on a leadoff single to left, then Kevin Youkilis followed with a walk, the hook was set. I asked Mark Loretta to get out or get on – no bunting, and no double plays, either of which would take the drama out of Papi’s hands. I’ve never been happier to see a Red Sox batter pop out to short.
As Papi ambled to the plate, his legs looking too skinny to support his great barrel of an upper body, the Fenway crowd rose in expectation to greet him. Me, I tried really hard to prepare for the inevitable disappointment. “It’s too much to ask.” I said. “He has to get out one of these times.”
Ball 1 from Fausto Carmona, and then a second wayward offering. “Impossible,” I whispered under my breath. The 2-0 offering was a fastball, middle of the plate, maybe a little bit away. As soon as Papi uncoiled and lashed out at it, I knew it was gone and so did the 35,000+ in Fenway. Grady Sizemore turned and ran back towards the centerfield wall, but the upraised arms of the fans in the bleachers told the story even before the ball landed in their midst.
“Unbelievable,” I yelled into the silence in my darkened house, everyone else long since in bed. I walked around my living room holding my head in my hands and muttering that single word aloud. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Unbelievable.”
So I guess the lesson is this: any team with that guy on its roster has a chance, flawed though it may be. Alright, you magnificent bastard, I’m in. I know you have to fail in the clutch at some point, but I’m done expecting it.
Red Sox 9, Indians 8
Record: 63-41
Just when I thought I was out, he pulled me back in.
I watched last night’s game in a state of nothing so much as ambivalence about the Sox’ fate. I made peace with the decision to stand pat for 2006, figuring the Sox have a shot and that’s all that reasonable fans can hope for in any given year and grudgingly approving of the strategy of protecting homegrown young talent. I muttered disapprovingly but calmly as David Wells’ looping curveballs were sent deep into the New England night by any number of Tribesmen, then lay stoically on the couch as a succession of mediocre Cleveland relief pitchers kept the Sox trailing, 8-6, through the game’s middle innings and into the 9th.
As the bottom of the final frame approached, I allowed myself the smallest of indulgences. “Just 1 guy needs to get on to give Papi a chance. That’s all I’m asking – give Papi a chance.” Had I not been alone in my living room, someone might have heard me sing that last line like John and Yoko did.
When first Alex Cora reached on a leadoff single to left, then Kevin Youkilis followed with a walk, the hook was set. I asked Mark Loretta to get out or get on – no bunting, and no double plays, either of which would take the drama out of Papi’s hands. I’ve never been happier to see a Red Sox batter pop out to short.
As Papi ambled to the plate, his legs looking too skinny to support his great barrel of an upper body, the Fenway crowd rose in expectation to greet him. Me, I tried really hard to prepare for the inevitable disappointment. “It’s too much to ask.” I said. “He has to get out one of these times.”
Ball 1 from Fausto Carmona, and then a second wayward offering. “Impossible,” I whispered under my breath. The 2-0 offering was a fastball, middle of the plate, maybe a little bit away. As soon as Papi uncoiled and lashed out at it, I knew it was gone and so did the 35,000+ in Fenway. Grady Sizemore turned and ran back towards the centerfield wall, but the upraised arms of the fans in the bleachers told the story even before the ball landed in their midst.
“Unbelievable,” I yelled into the silence in my darkened house, everyone else long since in bed. I walked around my living room holding my head in my hands and muttering that single word aloud. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Unbelievable.”
So I guess the lesson is this: any team with that guy on its roster has a chance, flawed though it may be. Alright, you magnificent bastard, I’m in. I know you have to fail in the clutch at some point, but I’m done expecting it.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Stay
Like my colleague, I spent the afternoon refreshing website after website in search of some news, any news regarding the Sox' trade deadline activities with a strong sense of ambivalence. While I believe that the Sox won't be able to pitch well enough down the stretch to be a real contender, none of the deals floated around gave me any warm, fuzzy feelings. I didn't want to see Mike Lowell go anywhere, even as his recent 2nd-half stats stare uncomfortably from the page - and the silly pick he just made against Andy Marte reinforces that emotion. I wanted no part of Julio Lugo in a Sox uniform, and Kip Wells smacked of nothing as much as desperation. Even the reported Andruw Jones deal seemed to cost too much, if the reports that it would have cost Lester and Hansen are to be believed.
So I sit here now, watching David Wells get battered by the Indians, scratching my head to figure out how I feel. I think that the Sox just became the 2nd-best team in the division, but I'm sure that I didn't want to see any of their chips traded in on the players that were reportedly available. Jason Varitek just left tonight's game with a leg injury, right after the announcement that Trot Nixon's been placed on the 15-day DL. (Though the freaking bomb that Wily Mo Pena just hit salves that pain for a moment.) Neither of those things portend anything good, even as Nixon's posting his worst power numbers in years and Varitek's defined mediocre for most of the season. Y'see - I can't make up my mind one way or the other.
Roll 'em out, hitch 'em up, and play the next 59 games, I guess. Me, I'm gonna sit here with a bemused look of my face, dumb as ever, and try to figure out what the hell I'm talking about.
So I sit here now, watching David Wells get battered by the Indians, scratching my head to figure out how I feel. I think that the Sox just became the 2nd-best team in the division, but I'm sure that I didn't want to see any of their chips traded in on the players that were reportedly available. Jason Varitek just left tonight's game with a leg injury, right after the announcement that Trot Nixon's been placed on the 15-day DL. (Though the freaking bomb that Wily Mo Pena just hit salves that pain for a moment.) Neither of those things portend anything good, even as Nixon's posting his worst power numbers in years and Varitek's defined mediocre for most of the season. Y'see - I can't make up my mind one way or the other.
Roll 'em out, hitch 'em up, and play the next 59 games, I guess. Me, I'm gonna sit here with a bemused look of my face, dumb as ever, and try to figure out what the hell I'm talking about.
Rise and Fall
An up and down afternoon today as I awaited updates on the Mets, ending predominantly on the downside.
The worst news of the day was the first news of the day, with word coming that Duaner Sanchez, who was putting together one of the finest seasons by a Met reliever in ages, suffered a season-ending separated shoulder in a car accident in Miami. That the accident occurred while Sanchez was riding in the back seat of a taxicab only added a dose of insult to this key injury. For those of you not keeping track, that’s two out of the past two serious injuries to baseball players riding in cabs that happened to front-line Met pitchers. It’s time to alter a stale motto of yestermonth, Mets: It’s Limo Time.
The next batch of news wasn’t any more musical to my ears, though I stand somewhat alone in my assessment of it. Xavier Nady was dealt to the Pirates for ex-Met Roberto Hernandez and ex-pitcher Oliver Perez. While “experts” and much of the Township deemed Xavier Nady expendable time and again, I was always a fan of the guy. I think he was more clutch at the plate than he was ever given credit for, and though he’s had more than his allotted ration of “interesting” plays in right field, he’s also dabbled in runner-gunning at key moments as well. A flawed player, but a more than solid part of the Mets lineup, now gone for . . . well, let’s take a look.
Roberto Hernandez put together a strong ’05 campaign as a set-up man, back before we knew what outstanding set-up campaigns looked like. He’s a poor man’s Sanchez, and he’s another year older. Here’s hoping he can offer a semblance of what we’ll miss. Meanwhile . . .
Oliver Perez is a poor man’s Victor Zambrano. People like to throw words around like “upside” and “potential” when they speak of Oliver Perez, but I am super-down on this guy. He had one brilliant season amid several other seasons of hapless ineptitude. What accounts for this is beyond me, perhaps something mental, something mechanical, or something . . . uh, chemical. But the fact that remains that he’s a significantly more challenging Peterson project than V-Zam was. Yes, I know, that comparison incorporates a little bit of fruit medley, but Perez is still a nothing addition to this deal, in my feeble mind.
Somewhere in the midst of it, the Worldwide Mis-Leader informed us that Oliver Perez was promptly dealt, along with Heath Bell, to San Diego for set-up man extraordinaire Scott Linebrink. This was brilliant news, and I took back the grumblings I hurled Omar-ward. Sadly, within an hour, this story was recanted by other news sources and deleted into revisionist history by ESPN. Thanks for nothin’, Bristol.
So, who comes up from AAA to replace Nady? All signs would logically point to Lastings Milledge. Of course, Milledge was last heard from making ego-laden remarks to the press in a Bizarro-Wright fashion. He was last seen getting thrown out of yesterday’s game against the R-Braves in the first inning, then chest-bumping the umpire like a . . . oh, let’s say a poor man’s Carl Everett. Would a AAA suspension keep him from being promoted? Frankly, with Mets not quite desperate these days, a little humbling (by calling up the vastly inferior Victor DiaZ) would be nice to see, but it’s probably more important to get him some more AB’s and TC’s at the major-league level and make his Fenway failures a distant memory.
On the whole, it’s been a bad day in Metville, but they largely heeded my “stay the course” advice and held fast for the unveiling of the next two months and beyond. Of course, when I offered that so-called wisdom, I wasn’t factoring in more metered havoc. Bring on the Roberto Hernandez Era, Part II. (Sequels are usually so terrific, no?)
The worst news of the day was the first news of the day, with word coming that Duaner Sanchez, who was putting together one of the finest seasons by a Met reliever in ages, suffered a season-ending separated shoulder in a car accident in Miami. That the accident occurred while Sanchez was riding in the back seat of a taxicab only added a dose of insult to this key injury. For those of you not keeping track, that’s two out of the past two serious injuries to baseball players riding in cabs that happened to front-line Met pitchers. It’s time to alter a stale motto of yestermonth, Mets: It’s Limo Time.
The next batch of news wasn’t any more musical to my ears, though I stand somewhat alone in my assessment of it. Xavier Nady was dealt to the Pirates for ex-Met Roberto Hernandez and ex-pitcher Oliver Perez. While “experts” and much of the Township deemed Xavier Nady expendable time and again, I was always a fan of the guy. I think he was more clutch at the plate than he was ever given credit for, and though he’s had more than his allotted ration of “interesting” plays in right field, he’s also dabbled in runner-gunning at key moments as well. A flawed player, but a more than solid part of the Mets lineup, now gone for . . . well, let’s take a look.
Roberto Hernandez put together a strong ’05 campaign as a set-up man, back before we knew what outstanding set-up campaigns looked like. He’s a poor man’s Sanchez, and he’s another year older. Here’s hoping he can offer a semblance of what we’ll miss. Meanwhile . . .
Oliver Perez is a poor man’s Victor Zambrano. People like to throw words around like “upside” and “potential” when they speak of Oliver Perez, but I am super-down on this guy. He had one brilliant season amid several other seasons of hapless ineptitude. What accounts for this is beyond me, perhaps something mental, something mechanical, or something . . . uh, chemical. But the fact that remains that he’s a significantly more challenging Peterson project than V-Zam was. Yes, I know, that comparison incorporates a little bit of fruit medley, but Perez is still a nothing addition to this deal, in my feeble mind.
Somewhere in the midst of it, the Worldwide Mis-Leader informed us that Oliver Perez was promptly dealt, along with Heath Bell, to San Diego for set-up man extraordinaire Scott Linebrink. This was brilliant news, and I took back the grumblings I hurled Omar-ward. Sadly, within an hour, this story was recanted by other news sources and deleted into revisionist history by ESPN. Thanks for nothin’, Bristol.
So, who comes up from AAA to replace Nady? All signs would logically point to Lastings Milledge. Of course, Milledge was last heard from making ego-laden remarks to the press in a Bizarro-Wright fashion. He was last seen getting thrown out of yesterday’s game against the R-Braves in the first inning, then chest-bumping the umpire like a . . . oh, let’s say a poor man’s Carl Everett. Would a AAA suspension keep him from being promoted? Frankly, with Mets not quite desperate these days, a little humbling (by calling up the vastly inferior Victor DiaZ) would be nice to see, but it’s probably more important to get him some more AB’s and TC’s at the major-league level and make his Fenway failures a distant memory.
On the whole, it’s been a bad day in Metville, but they largely heeded my “stay the course” advice and held fast for the unveiling of the next two months and beyond. Of course, when I offered that so-called wisdom, I wasn’t factoring in more metered havoc. Bring on the Roberto Hernandez Era, Part II. (Sequels are usually so terrific, no?)
Oh Atlanta
Games 102 through 104 – Mets
Mets 6, Braves 4
Mets 11, Braves 3
Mets 10, Braves 6
Record: 63-41
Beating the Braves isn't going to lose its appeal any time soon, that's for damn sure.
My brother-in-law called me Friday evening to vent a little about Pedro looking shaky and a lot about some of the comments the Braves had made prior to the series. While Marcus Giles’ and Jeff Francoeur’s comments weren’t extremely incendiary, they were just a little too proud for a team that was barely scaring .500 coming into the weekend. To insinuate that the Mets were still looking over their shoulders at the Braves – well, it might have been true for the fans, since we’ve been here all along as the Braves have won one division title after another, but it’s probably far from reality for the Mets themselves. Perhaps they were concerned about the Braves, just enough to concentrate heavily on sweeping the Braves in three games.
And that they did, sending Atlanta careening down to 15 games back in the NL East and 10th place in the Wild Card race. For the young Bravos who told reporters that they weren’t resigned to caring about the Wild Card standings, they’re vindicated – now they aren’t even included on a short list of WC contenders, anyway. I have to say, the fun of the “stinkin’ Braves” living up to their moniker hasn’t diminished one iota as this season has worn on. It will be a long, long time before they can evoke any pity in me.
Carlos Beltran has quietly but steadily emerged as the NL MVP. He’s been everything that the New York press and fan base foolishly expected to materialize in 2005; that they abruptly moved on some time ago to fixate on Golden Boy David Wright and NYC crosshairs-resident Alex Rodriguez has helped Beltran have his extraordinary season void of extra hassle. Keep it up, folks. Walk away. Nothing to see here.
Hear me now and believe me later: Willie Randolph’s reluctance to yank pitchers will undoubtedly cost the team down the stretch. It’s as if, as a former longtime player, he doesn’t want to show up any pitcher by pulling a starter before his requisite “quality start” tenure or a reliever before his inning is up. Tom Glavine was getting peppered on Saturday, again, and once again Willie looked to be posing for a portrait when the time came for a change. By my calculations, there’s an ever-present 2 to 5 batter lag between when the free world recognizes a pitcher needs removing and when he actually walks the green mile. This very often converts into 2 to 5 extra hits or walks, producing several runs. Sometimes it proves costly; sometimes, like Saturday, it does not. In late September and/or October, it probably will.
Time to sit back and wait for the trade deadline to pass so that all of the rumors can be forgotten or confirmed to our delight or dismay. Stay tuned.
Mets 6, Braves 4
Mets 11, Braves 3
Mets 10, Braves 6
Record: 63-41
Beating the Braves isn't going to lose its appeal any time soon, that's for damn sure.
My brother-in-law called me Friday evening to vent a little about Pedro looking shaky and a lot about some of the comments the Braves had made prior to the series. While Marcus Giles’ and Jeff Francoeur’s comments weren’t extremely incendiary, they were just a little too proud for a team that was barely scaring .500 coming into the weekend. To insinuate that the Mets were still looking over their shoulders at the Braves – well, it might have been true for the fans, since we’ve been here all along as the Braves have won one division title after another, but it’s probably far from reality for the Mets themselves. Perhaps they were concerned about the Braves, just enough to concentrate heavily on sweeping the Braves in three games.
And that they did, sending Atlanta careening down to 15 games back in the NL East and 10th place in the Wild Card race. For the young Bravos who told reporters that they weren’t resigned to caring about the Wild Card standings, they’re vindicated – now they aren’t even included on a short list of WC contenders, anyway. I have to say, the fun of the “stinkin’ Braves” living up to their moniker hasn’t diminished one iota as this season has worn on. It will be a long, long time before they can evoke any pity in me.
Carlos Beltran has quietly but steadily emerged as the NL MVP. He’s been everything that the New York press and fan base foolishly expected to materialize in 2005; that they abruptly moved on some time ago to fixate on Golden Boy David Wright and NYC crosshairs-resident Alex Rodriguez has helped Beltran have his extraordinary season void of extra hassle. Keep it up, folks. Walk away. Nothing to see here.
Hear me now and believe me later: Willie Randolph’s reluctance to yank pitchers will undoubtedly cost the team down the stretch. It’s as if, as a former longtime player, he doesn’t want to show up any pitcher by pulling a starter before his requisite “quality start” tenure or a reliever before his inning is up. Tom Glavine was getting peppered on Saturday, again, and once again Willie looked to be posing for a portrait when the time came for a change. By my calculations, there’s an ever-present 2 to 5 batter lag between when the free world recognizes a pitcher needs removing and when he actually walks the green mile. This very often converts into 2 to 5 extra hits or walks, producing several runs. Sometimes it proves costly; sometimes, like Saturday, it does not. In late September and/or October, it probably will.
Time to sit back and wait for the trade deadline to pass so that all of the rumors can be forgotten or confirmed to our delight or dismay. Stay tuned.
Sugar, We're Goin Down
Games 101 through 103 – Red Sox
Angels 8, Red Sox 3
Red Sox 7, Angels 6 (11)
Angels 10, Red Sox 4
Record: 62-41
I’m stuck in the midst of an existential struggle for self-definition. I can’t decide whether I’m a pessimist or a realist. A representative of the optimist camp phoned in earlier and asked for a wake up call in April 2008. Realist or pessimist, the prognosis for the remainder of the 2006 campaign looks strikingly similar. Unless something changes in the next 7 hours, it sure looks from here like the Yankees are the team to beat in the AL East.
New York improved itself in 2 key areas of weakness yesterday, replacing Bernie Williams/Aaron Guiel/Andy Phillips with Bobby Abreu and slotting Cory Lidle in place of Sidney Ponson. While they’re both solid, Abreu and Lidle in and of themselves don’t strike raging fear in the hearts of gentle citizens of the Nation, but their obvious incremental value looks nonetheless to be telling in a race that’s currently measured in terms of half-games. The fact that the Yankees were able to pick up valuable parts for essentially nothing takes us down a well-worn path. INSERT ANNUAL RESIGNED RANT ABOUT YANKEE FINANCIAL ADVANTAGE HERE. The unassailable fact remains that the Yankees didn’t make up the current system – they’re just playing within it.
Seth Mnookin’s book Feeding the Monster defines a new operating model for the Red Sox front office based upon adhering steadfastly to a long-term organization philosophy and stanching the flow of leaks to the press. The Sox have been masterful thus far this trading season in disguising their intent, but the long-term view may dictate that they choose to play their current hand for the rest of 2006 instead of sacrificing that 2008 foundation for the possibility of short-term gains. And therein lies the struggle for Sox fans – intellectually, I believe in the front office’s model and am not interested in shipping Craig Hansen away for a 2-month rental that might or might not pay dividends. At a gut level, though, I’m sick and fucking tired of finishing 2nd to the Yankees, and a 9th straight replay of that result would make me want to break things. More things.
Tucked away in this weekend’s dismal series loss to the Angels is something that might be worth revisiting later in the season. Despite dropping 2 of 3 as a result of 3 relatively mediocre pitching performances (David Wells, a Nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Ugh.) the Sox showed once again that they are capable of competing with a great deal of heart. They came back from a 6-3 8th inning deficit on Saturday, courtesy of the obligatory Papi homerun/walk-off single. So cliché. Yesterday, after Curt Schilling’s spot-on Ebby Calvin imitation handed the Halos a 6-1 3rd inning lead, the Sox scrapped back within 2 runs and had the bases loaded with 2 outs – or should have, if umpire Kerwin Danley hadn’t flat out missed the fact that John Lackey’s 1-2 fastball had hit Mike Lowell in the forearm. Lowell’s strikeout on the next pitch killed the rally, and Jermaine Van Buren showed his Pawtucketness in the next frame, giving the Angels 4 runs to salt the game away. Regardless of the outcome, the fact that the Sox kept at it despite the deflating early deficit against their ace brought some solace. As the lads from Fall Out Boy sing, at least the Sox are going out swinging.
Speaking of out and swinging (Whitney was really hoping for some kind of gay expose here – sorry to disappoint), Trot Nixon may have inadvertently effed up Theo’s best-laid plans by injuring himself whiffing at a Lackey changeup last night. The Sox rightfielder will have an MRI today on his bicep after a wild swingandamiss left him grasping his arm in pain and led to the most predictable strikeout in baseball history, with Wily Mo Pena replacing Nixon with a 2-2 count and waving helplessly at the Lackey’s slider away. Far, far away. Nixon’s injury raises the ugly specter of Alfonso Soriano in a Sox uniform. None for me, thanks.
Last time I wrote the 2006 Sox off, they surprised me by going on a mini-tear to build their lead back to 3.5 games. This time, I fear they don’t have the horses to sustain an advantage on the Yankees. Pessimist, realist, whatever – in the end, the result looks exactly the same. I sure hope something happens in the next 7 hours to cause me to rewrite this post.
Angels 8, Red Sox 3
Red Sox 7, Angels 6 (11)
Angels 10, Red Sox 4
Record: 62-41
I’m stuck in the midst of an existential struggle for self-definition. I can’t decide whether I’m a pessimist or a realist. A representative of the optimist camp phoned in earlier and asked for a wake up call in April 2008. Realist or pessimist, the prognosis for the remainder of the 2006 campaign looks strikingly similar. Unless something changes in the next 7 hours, it sure looks from here like the Yankees are the team to beat in the AL East.
New York improved itself in 2 key areas of weakness yesterday, replacing Bernie Williams/Aaron Guiel/Andy Phillips with Bobby Abreu and slotting Cory Lidle in place of Sidney Ponson. While they’re both solid, Abreu and Lidle in and of themselves don’t strike raging fear in the hearts of gentle citizens of the Nation, but their obvious incremental value looks nonetheless to be telling in a race that’s currently measured in terms of half-games. The fact that the Yankees were able to pick up valuable parts for essentially nothing takes us down a well-worn path. INSERT ANNUAL RESIGNED RANT ABOUT YANKEE FINANCIAL ADVANTAGE HERE. The unassailable fact remains that the Yankees didn’t make up the current system – they’re just playing within it.
Seth Mnookin’s book Feeding the Monster defines a new operating model for the Red Sox front office based upon adhering steadfastly to a long-term organization philosophy and stanching the flow of leaks to the press. The Sox have been masterful thus far this trading season in disguising their intent, but the long-term view may dictate that they choose to play their current hand for the rest of 2006 instead of sacrificing that 2008 foundation for the possibility of short-term gains. And therein lies the struggle for Sox fans – intellectually, I believe in the front office’s model and am not interested in shipping Craig Hansen away for a 2-month rental that might or might not pay dividends. At a gut level, though, I’m sick and fucking tired of finishing 2nd to the Yankees, and a 9th straight replay of that result would make me want to break things. More things.
Tucked away in this weekend’s dismal series loss to the Angels is something that might be worth revisiting later in the season. Despite dropping 2 of 3 as a result of 3 relatively mediocre pitching performances (David Wells, a Nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Ugh.) the Sox showed once again that they are capable of competing with a great deal of heart. They came back from a 6-3 8th inning deficit on Saturday, courtesy of the obligatory Papi homerun/walk-off single. So cliché. Yesterday, after Curt Schilling’s spot-on Ebby Calvin imitation handed the Halos a 6-1 3rd inning lead, the Sox scrapped back within 2 runs and had the bases loaded with 2 outs – or should have, if umpire Kerwin Danley hadn’t flat out missed the fact that John Lackey’s 1-2 fastball had hit Mike Lowell in the forearm. Lowell’s strikeout on the next pitch killed the rally, and Jermaine Van Buren showed his Pawtucketness in the next frame, giving the Angels 4 runs to salt the game away. Regardless of the outcome, the fact that the Sox kept at it despite the deflating early deficit against their ace brought some solace. As the lads from Fall Out Boy sing, at least the Sox are going out swinging.
Speaking of out and swinging (Whitney was really hoping for some kind of gay expose here – sorry to disappoint), Trot Nixon may have inadvertently effed up Theo’s best-laid plans by injuring himself whiffing at a Lackey changeup last night. The Sox rightfielder will have an MRI today on his bicep after a wild swingandamiss left him grasping his arm in pain and led to the most predictable strikeout in baseball history, with Wily Mo Pena replacing Nixon with a 2-2 count and waving helplessly at the Lackey’s slider away. Far, far away. Nixon’s injury raises the ugly specter of Alfonso Soriano in a Sox uniform. None for me, thanks.
Last time I wrote the 2006 Sox off, they surprised me by going on a mini-tear to build their lead back to 3.5 games. This time, I fear they don’t have the horses to sustain an advantage on the Yankees. Pessimist, realist, whatever – in the end, the result looks exactly the same. I sure hope something happens in the next 7 hours to cause me to rewrite this post.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Wiser Time
Games 94 through 101 – Mets
Reds 7, Mets 4
Mets 4, Reds 2
Mets 7, Astros 0
Mets 4, Astros 3
Astros 8, Mets 4
Cubs 8, Mets 7
Cubs 8, Mets 6
Mets 1, Cubs 0 (10)
Record: 60-41
Taking a break somewhere amid the thrilling tedium of a 162-game season can be very healthy for a player. Let’s hope that Pedro Martinez is Exhibit A of that notion tonight in Atlanta. It’s also healthy for us fans to do the same thing; while you don’t have to be an physician to know that such a break filled with a steady regimen of ultraviolet rays and fermented beverages is actually far from healthy, a mental hiatus once or twice along this six-month slog can be invigorating. So why do I feel so sluggish about the Mets?
My second half of the New York Mets season may well begin tonight with Pedro’s start against the born-again Braves. It’s been a rather amorphous stint to close out July for the Mets, with some notable feats but little that bodes but so well or ill for the long haul.
John Maine has been surprisingly effective while Tom Glavine’s been his mirror image. El Duque has shown slightly less consistency and predictability than the Magic 8-Ball™. The hitters have hit, except when they haven’t. Willie’s been outdueled once or twice, been hammered by his supporters, and carried on vigilantly. Just another week in MetLand, I guess.
Overall, the Mets are doing what they need to do in this position. Keep winning more than losing, find some definition in that problematic pitching rotation, and try to keep the offense in tune. Trying to stay healthy is just ludicrous, since it’s when you fixate on avoiding injury that it strikes most often, so just keep a couple of fingers crossed. Remain loose, maintain clubhouse chemistry, and have some fun as the dog days of August wilt other squads. Avoid the huge collapse by emphasizing fundamentals, playing to strengths, and steering clear of premature autopilot activation.
And maybe – just maybe – add a player or two if and only if it’s the right deal for now and in the future. If that sentence seems tempered and timid, it’s for good reason.
A trade right now could improve the team and its chances for success in the 2006 campaign, possibly at the detriment of the ’07, ’08 and/or later seasons. Based on what seems to be available, though, the upside seems limited, and the aforementioned detriment could very well outweigh those chances of success. Consider Barry Zito – and Scott Boras – for three months and Lastings Milledge deleted from future media guides. The allure of Zito on this somewhat erratic staff is huge, but keeping an eye on the target doesn’t mean a singular focus on October 2006. Let’s revisit an ignored plea of old:
Meanwhile, the Mets have been rumored (which we take with several grains of salt) to be involved in other deals that strike me as somewhere between minor upgrades and needless tweaks. Remember, teams up 12 games at this point don’t shuffle things up for the sake of it. Addressing a need, yes. Adding a wrinkle, no.
General Managers who ward off complacency in the face of regular season achievements often see the fruits of such labor, so I’m far from asking Omar Minaya to stop taking calls. It’s just worth reminding him that the next week is one of a select few amid the yearly 52 where folks in his position earn their keep most obviously, and the Mets’ particular situation demands patience and shrewdness more than gallantry and excitement. Next July 28th I want to be feeling no worse about the Mets than I do right now. Of course, a World Series trophy this fall could alleviate any angst next season might otherwise bring, but if there’s a transaction to be made in the next few days that all but guarantees that accomplishment, I’m not yet privy to it.
There are plenty of examples of past deadline deals that carried a team deep into the postseason, and the Mets have one on their roster in Carlos Beltran. Back in 1986, of course, the Red Sox made a rare August trade, sending Rey Quinones and three guys ineligible for the Baseball Encyclopedia to Seattle for Spike Owen and . . . wait for it . . . Dave Henderson. I dare say that this deal impacted their immediate future in a very big way. So the road is paved for Omar to add that last big piece.
Just remember that in the same breath the Mets, sitting comfortably atop the NL East in 1986, did next to nothing around the deadline. (They traded veteran pitcher Ed Lynch in June for a box of balls, some parachute pants, and the 12" dance-single of Falco’s “Rock Me Amadeus.” They also jettisoned George Foster, illustrating some more addition by subtraction, and added longtime Met Lee Mazzilli.)
I guess my point is that with Mets Township’s megaphone bigger and louder than ever, it may seem that we’re all clamoring for Omar to execute the big deal that makes the Mets more of a true contender to make some noise in the autumn. I’m not sure that’s the case among most die-hards. The skewed financial system of MLB gives the Mets the edge via the free-agent market, and Omar took full advantage last winter. The Mets may not have the most impressive hand we’ve ever seen, but with most of the teams around the NL circle looking like they’ll be folding, let’s at least think about letting it ride and see what happens.
Reds 7, Mets 4
Mets 4, Reds 2
Mets 7, Astros 0
Mets 4, Astros 3
Astros 8, Mets 4
Cubs 8, Mets 7
Cubs 8, Mets 6
Mets 1, Cubs 0 (10)
Record: 60-41
Taking a break somewhere amid the thrilling tedium of a 162-game season can be very healthy for a player. Let’s hope that Pedro Martinez is Exhibit A of that notion tonight in Atlanta. It’s also healthy for us fans to do the same thing; while you don’t have to be an physician to know that such a break filled with a steady regimen of ultraviolet rays and fermented beverages is actually far from healthy, a mental hiatus once or twice along this six-month slog can be invigorating. So why do I feel so sluggish about the Mets?
My second half of the New York Mets season may well begin tonight with Pedro’s start against the born-again Braves. It’s been a rather amorphous stint to close out July for the Mets, with some notable feats but little that bodes but so well or ill for the long haul.
John Maine has been surprisingly effective while Tom Glavine’s been his mirror image. El Duque has shown slightly less consistency and predictability than the Magic 8-Ball™. The hitters have hit, except when they haven’t. Willie’s been outdueled once or twice, been hammered by his supporters, and carried on vigilantly. Just another week in MetLand, I guess.
Overall, the Mets are doing what they need to do in this position. Keep winning more than losing, find some definition in that problematic pitching rotation, and try to keep the offense in tune. Trying to stay healthy is just ludicrous, since it’s when you fixate on avoiding injury that it strikes most often, so just keep a couple of fingers crossed. Remain loose, maintain clubhouse chemistry, and have some fun as the dog days of August wilt other squads. Avoid the huge collapse by emphasizing fundamentals, playing to strengths, and steering clear of premature autopilot activation.
And maybe – just maybe – add a player or two if and only if it’s the right deal for now and in the future. If that sentence seems tempered and timid, it’s for good reason.
A trade right now could improve the team and its chances for success in the 2006 campaign, possibly at the detriment of the ’07, ’08 and/or later seasons. Based on what seems to be available, though, the upside seems limited, and the aforementioned detriment could very well outweigh those chances of success. Consider Barry Zito – and Scott Boras – for three months and Lastings Milledge deleted from future media guides. The allure of Zito on this somewhat erratic staff is huge, but keeping an eye on the target doesn’t mean a singular focus on October 2006. Let’s revisit an ignored plea of old:
Then we hear about the possible trade with the Devil Rays (which would continueIt’s neither challenging nor enlightening to point out an “I told you so” passage, but it underscores my sentiments right now. No possible deal has been mentioned in the mass media which has made me feel as though parting with Milledge (or Pelfrey, or others of note) was worth it. Walk away from the high-risk/high-reward trades this year. Teams up 12 games at this point don’t need those deals.
a trend of acquiring pitchers from teams with dreadful ERA's) which would bring
the Mets RHP Victor "The Other, Less Talented" Zambrano in exchange for the
Mets' best pitching prospect, Scott Kazmir. This trade would mean
mortgaging the future for . . . God knows what. Kazmir could one day be
the ace, while Zambrano could one day set the record for most walks allowed in a
season . . . It all bodes ill, as far as I'm concerned. Walk away.
Just walk away.
Meanwhile, the Mets have been rumored (which we take with several grains of salt) to be involved in other deals that strike me as somewhere between minor upgrades and needless tweaks. Remember, teams up 12 games at this point don’t shuffle things up for the sake of it. Addressing a need, yes. Adding a wrinkle, no.
General Managers who ward off complacency in the face of regular season achievements often see the fruits of such labor, so I’m far from asking Omar Minaya to stop taking calls. It’s just worth reminding him that the next week is one of a select few amid the yearly 52 where folks in his position earn their keep most obviously, and the Mets’ particular situation demands patience and shrewdness more than gallantry and excitement. Next July 28th I want to be feeling no worse about the Mets than I do right now. Of course, a World Series trophy this fall could alleviate any angst next season might otherwise bring, but if there’s a transaction to be made in the next few days that all but guarantees that accomplishment, I’m not yet privy to it.
There are plenty of examples of past deadline deals that carried a team deep into the postseason, and the Mets have one on their roster in Carlos Beltran. Back in 1986, of course, the Red Sox made a rare August trade, sending Rey Quinones and three guys ineligible for the Baseball Encyclopedia to Seattle for Spike Owen and . . . wait for it . . . Dave Henderson. I dare say that this deal impacted their immediate future in a very big way. So the road is paved for Omar to add that last big piece.
Just remember that in the same breath the Mets, sitting comfortably atop the NL East in 1986, did next to nothing around the deadline. (They traded veteran pitcher Ed Lynch in June for a box of balls, some parachute pants, and the 12" dance-single of Falco’s “Rock Me Amadeus.” They also jettisoned George Foster, illustrating some more addition by subtraction, and added longtime Met Lee Mazzilli.)
I guess my point is that with Mets Township’s megaphone bigger and louder than ever, it may seem that we’re all clamoring for Omar to execute the big deal that makes the Mets more of a true contender to make some noise in the autumn. I’m not sure that’s the case among most die-hards. The skewed financial system of MLB gives the Mets the edge via the free-agent market, and Omar took full advantage last winter. The Mets may not have the most impressive hand we’ve ever seen, but with most of the teams around the NL circle looking like they’ll be folding, let’s at least think about letting it ride and see what happens.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Truth Hits Everybody
Game 100 – Red Sox
A’s 5, Red Sox 1
Record: 61-39
All things being equal, as of today I don’t believe the Red Sox will make the playoffs. There. I said it. The following table (Well, it would be a table if I had the patience to figure out how to drop in the appropriate html code. Just pretend, mmmkay.) is Exhibit A through Z in my case against the Olde Towne Team’s postseason hopes:
BOS - Schilling/Beckett/Lester/Snyder/???
NYY - Mussina/Johnson/Wright/Wang/Ponson
CHW - Buehrle/Conteras/Garcia/Garland/Vazquez
MIN - Santana/Liriano/Radke/Baker/Bonser
DET - Verlander/Rogers/Bonderman/Robertson/Miner
If you go 2 deep in the rotations of the 5 teams that are competing for 3 playoff spots (I'm disrespecting Toronto intentionally, despite their dominance of the Sox in 2006) the Sox are right there, arguably no. 2 behind Minny. 3 deep, and the Sox are still competitive, though Lester's inexperience is a concern. From there, though, the Sox fall off the face of the earth, giving 40% of their starts the rest of the way to...what? The sky, my friends, is falling - even with an offense that still ranks among the league's most fearsome.
Here's the thing, though. (C'mon, you know you've been waiting for me to break out that old chestnut. I can hear the cheers from Fairfax to Arlington.) If the Sox actually play the season's final 60 games with that rotation, I'll wear Teejay's Simspon (that's not a typo for those of you not way inside) jersey and a pair of seersucker pants into a biker bar, order a cosmo, and ask if everyone would please refrain from smoking. 4 days 'til the deadline with a season in the balance in Beantown - whattyasay, Theo, the Monster's hungry.
A’s 5, Red Sox 1
Record: 61-39
All things being equal, as of today I don’t believe the Red Sox will make the playoffs. There. I said it. The following table (Well, it would be a table if I had the patience to figure out how to drop in the appropriate html code. Just pretend, mmmkay.) is Exhibit A through Z in my case against the Olde Towne Team’s postseason hopes:
BOS - Schilling/Beckett/Lester/Snyder/???
NYY - Mussina/Johnson/Wright/Wang/Ponson
CHW - Buehrle/Conteras/Garcia/Garland/Vazquez
MIN - Santana/Liriano/Radke/Baker/Bonser
DET - Verlander/Rogers/Bonderman/Robertson/Miner
If you go 2 deep in the rotations of the 5 teams that are competing for 3 playoff spots (I'm disrespecting Toronto intentionally, despite their dominance of the Sox in 2006) the Sox are right there, arguably no. 2 behind Minny. 3 deep, and the Sox are still competitive, though Lester's inexperience is a concern. From there, though, the Sox fall off the face of the earth, giving 40% of their starts the rest of the way to...what? The sky, my friends, is falling - even with an offense that still ranks among the league's most fearsome.
Here's the thing, though. (C'mon, you know you've been waiting for me to break out that old chestnut. I can hear the cheers from Fairfax to Arlington.) If the Sox actually play the season's final 60 games with that rotation, I'll wear Teejay's Simspon (that's not a typo for those of you not way inside) jersey and a pair of seersucker pants into a biker bar, order a cosmo, and ask if everyone would please refrain from smoking. 4 days 'til the deadline with a season in the balance in Beantown - whattyasay, Theo, the Monster's hungry.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Interlude
Dan Haren's dealing, Kyle Snyder just reverted to form, and things don't look so good for the Olde Towne team on getaway day in Oakland. Anyone for a little old-fashioned jinxing?
Behind the Wall of Sleep
Games 94 through 99 – Red Sox
Red Sox 6, Rangers 4
Red Sox 9, Mariners 4
Mariners 5, Red Sox 2
Mariners 9, Red Sox 8
Red Sox 7, A’s 3
Red Sox 13, A’s 5
Record: 61-38
I’m just now starting to feel like a human being after 4 days of liver-pickling, sun-worshipping, and face-stuffing on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. As always, my MLC compadre served as an incomparable host, providing a bucolic seaside venue for our always-rollicking festival. And, as nearly always, I spent the whole time in blissful ignorance of the Sox progress, save for a few minutes perusing the box scores in The Virginian-Pilot.
Red Sox 6, Rangers 4
Red Sox 9, Mariners 4
Mariners 5, Red Sox 2
Mariners 9, Red Sox 8
Red Sox 7, A’s 3
Red Sox 13, A’s 5
Record: 61-38
I’m just now starting to feel like a human being after 4 days of liver-pickling, sun-worshipping, and face-stuffing on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. As always, my MLC compadre served as an incomparable host, providing a bucolic seaside venue for our always-rollicking festival. And, as nearly always, I spent the whole time in blissful ignorance of the Sox progress, save for a few minutes perusing the box scores in The Virginian-Pilot.
As a result of my coastal meanderings, I only caught one of the Sox’ previous 6 games, and boy, did I choose poorly. Sunday’s loss to the Mariners was marked by epic ineptitude by the outfield combo of Manny Ramirez and Coco Crisp, who conspired to provide the M’s with 3 crucial runs on a pair of the most comically absurd fielding efforts major league fans will see this year. Fortunately, I was so tired and hung over that I couldn’t muster enough energy to be more than mildly irritated.
The events of last week have elevated my mild concern about the pitching staff to the point where I’m actively searching for a way to lock the windows on the 2nd floor of my home to stop me from flinging myself into the back yard in dismay. Tim Wakefield went on the DL with an injury that’s variously been diagnosed as a back strain, broken rib, and muscle tear. Seems like the guys looking for WMD in Iraq had a better sense of their quarry than the Sox’ medical staff. Bygones.
Wake’s back/rib means he’ll be out at least a month, which leaves the Sox with 3 healthy starters, and one of those is a rookie with fewer than a dozen major league starts and a propensity to get himself into trouble just to see if he can get out of it. Kason Gabbard (called up from AA for an emergency start) and Kyle Snyder made starts for the Sox during the past week, with Snyder going again this afternoon. (Aside – did Roger Clemens have a hand in naming Gabbard?) I’m no Tim Kurkjian, except maybe in terms of size, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that championship-caliber squads don’t send the Snyders and Gabbards of the world to the hill with any sort of regularity.
The issue is exacerbated by the yawning dearth of attractive pitching options on the market, and with the first trade deadline coming on Monday, the Sox are in the fragile position of either hoping that some combination of David Wells, Matt Clement, and Wakefield can get them through the season’s final 2 months or overpaying for a mediocre 4/5 starter like Livan Hernandez or Odalis Perez. Based on the prospective cost associated with the latter option and the fact that Wells may actually take his turn in the rotation on Monday, I’ll choose door number 1 and cross my fingers. Given his long-demonstrated reluctance to trade young for old and longer-term strategy to make the Sox a mega-team in 2008, I think Theo’ll check his hand and place his trust in the offense.
Afternoon game today, which means I’ll actually be able to stay up late enough to watch it. If you’re good little boys and girls, I might actually cover it live for you. Of course, Kyle Snyder is starting, so the cursing may be a bit much for our more sensitive readers.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
40
Game 93 - Red Sox
Red Sox 1, Royals 0
Record: 57-36
I'll be damned. Right after he watched Jon Lester drain a rainbow jumper from over a tree and behind the neighbor's VW Bus, Ebby Calvin stepped up calm-as-you-please and made the same shot to avoid the "H". 8 innings, no runs, 4 hits, no walks and 7 Ks (though you could argue the technicality that he did it right-handed as opposed to Lester's southpaw effort) in a mirror-image dominance of the Royals.
The Sox did what they're supposed to do, sweeping Kansas City despite only scoring 7 runs in the 3 games. They defined doing just enough to win, but I can't quibble too much over style points. Would be nice if the offense wakes up in time for the weekend, but I'll be far too engrossed in pickling my liver and frying my skin to care all that much. Aloha until I dry out sometime next week.
Red Sox 1, Royals 0
Record: 57-36
I'll be damned. Right after he watched Jon Lester drain a rainbow jumper from over a tree and behind the neighbor's VW Bus, Ebby Calvin stepped up calm-as-you-please and made the same shot to avoid the "H". 8 innings, no runs, 4 hits, no walks and 7 Ks (though you could argue the technicality that he did it right-handed as opposed to Lester's southpaw effort) in a mirror-image dominance of the Royals.
The Sox did what they're supposed to do, sweeping Kansas City despite only scoring 7 runs in the 3 games. They defined doing just enough to win, but I can't quibble too much over style points. Would be nice if the offense wakes up in time for the weekend, but I'll be far too engrossed in pickling my liver and frying my skin to care all that much. Aloha until I dry out sometime next week.
And the Cradle Will Rock
Game 92 – Red Sox
Red Sox 1, Royals 0
Record: 56-36
If nothing else, last night portends great things for the next 8-10 years, Good Lord willing and the luxury tax don’t rise. Jon Lester pitched a terrific 8 innings, yielding 1 hit and 4 walks before turning the festivities over to Jonathan Papelbon for a tidy dispatching of the Royal offense. And yes, I recognize that the phrase ‘Royal offense’ is a bit of a stretch, and that young Lester was aided and abetted mightily by Kansas City’s lack of patience and overall embarrassing dearth of talent. Nonetheless, the Sox’ newest starter picked his team up when it needed him.
Lester’s now 5-0 with a 2.38 ERA and rapidly gaining on my compadre in my compendium of Top 10 Lesters (which includes Lester Hayes, Lester Bangs, Lester Claypool, and Les Nessman in addition to Whitney) – he’s number 2 with a bullet. I don’t think it’s much a stretch to say that without Jon Lester, the Sox would find themselves behind the Yankees in the standings (especially if the New Yorkers keep getting calls like they got last night from the umpiring staff), and probably not far ahead of the Blue Jays, either. Without Lester, some combination of Kyle Snyder, Jason Johnson, David Pauley, and the Sox’ batboys would be anchoring the 4th spot in the rotation, leaving the 5th spot for a JUGS machine, or perhaps Jose Canseco. In fact, you could argue (you’d be wrong, but still) that Lester’s been more important to the Sox in 2006 than today’s starter Ebby Calvin “Nuke” Beckett.
The fact that I could type that last sentence with a moderately straight face is telling testimony regarding Beckett’s erratic performance to date. He follows Lester’s gem today with a chance to send the Royals packing on the wrong end of a 3-game sweep. From a talent perspective, it’s a mismatch the likes of which you rarely see at the Major League level – Beckett should dominate the AAA lineup he’ll face this afternoon. I’ll be “watching” with interest to see how he follows up Lester’s performance – I’ve got a hunch that the competitor in him will be motivated to show the Nation that the new kid’s still got some learning to do. Just in case, it'd be nice if the Sox bats show up with more than the 3 runs per game they've laid on the Royals in the first 2 games of this set.
T-minus 18 hours before our annual pilgrimage to the sun, surf, and (apparently) tropical storms of North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Enjoy the time away from MLC – I’m sure we’ll return to regale you with epic tales of debauchery and heroic manliness. Or tales of laying around the house drinking beer and playing poker. Too early to tell.
Red Sox 1, Royals 0
Record: 56-36
If nothing else, last night portends great things for the next 8-10 years, Good Lord willing and the luxury tax don’t rise. Jon Lester pitched a terrific 8 innings, yielding 1 hit and 4 walks before turning the festivities over to Jonathan Papelbon for a tidy dispatching of the Royal offense. And yes, I recognize that the phrase ‘Royal offense’ is a bit of a stretch, and that young Lester was aided and abetted mightily by Kansas City’s lack of patience and overall embarrassing dearth of talent. Nonetheless, the Sox’ newest starter picked his team up when it needed him.
Lester’s now 5-0 with a 2.38 ERA and rapidly gaining on my compadre in my compendium of Top 10 Lesters (which includes Lester Hayes, Lester Bangs, Lester Claypool, and Les Nessman in addition to Whitney) – he’s number 2 with a bullet. I don’t think it’s much a stretch to say that without Jon Lester, the Sox would find themselves behind the Yankees in the standings (especially if the New Yorkers keep getting calls like they got last night from the umpiring staff), and probably not far ahead of the Blue Jays, either. Without Lester, some combination of Kyle Snyder, Jason Johnson, David Pauley, and the Sox’ batboys would be anchoring the 4th spot in the rotation, leaving the 5th spot for a JUGS machine, or perhaps Jose Canseco. In fact, you could argue (you’d be wrong, but still) that Lester’s been more important to the Sox in 2006 than today’s starter Ebby Calvin “Nuke” Beckett.
The fact that I could type that last sentence with a moderately straight face is telling testimony regarding Beckett’s erratic performance to date. He follows Lester’s gem today with a chance to send the Royals packing on the wrong end of a 3-game sweep. From a talent perspective, it’s a mismatch the likes of which you rarely see at the Major League level – Beckett should dominate the AAA lineup he’ll face this afternoon. I’ll be “watching” with interest to see how he follows up Lester’s performance – I’ve got a hunch that the competitor in him will be motivated to show the Nation that the new kid’s still got some learning to do. Just in case, it'd be nice if the Sox bats show up with more than the 3 runs per game they've laid on the Royals in the first 2 games of this set.
T-minus 18 hours before our annual pilgrimage to the sun, surf, and (apparently) tropical storms of North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Enjoy the time away from MLC – I’m sure we’ll return to regale you with epic tales of debauchery and heroic manliness. Or tales of laying around the house drinking beer and playing poker. Too early to tell.
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