Particle Man

Game 6 - Red Sox

Red Sox 4, Orioles 1
W: Wakefield (1-1)
L: Lopez (1-1)
Sv: Papelbon (3)
Record: 5-1

For the record, let it be known that the Baseball Gods have a wickedly clever (though good-natured) sense of humor. Further, let it once again be proven that I'm an idiot.

On Saturday night, I praised the Sox for solid defense, singling out Alex Gonzalez for his glovework and Mark Loretta for his grittiness. Less than 24 hours later, Loretta let the very first ball of yesterday's game go through his legs for a bush-league error. In the 2nd inning, after Loretta's gaffe cost the Sox a run, Gonzalez failed to execute a basic doubleplay turn, putting Tim Wakefield in one of the numerous jams he pitched through yesterday.

At this point, I'm looking forward to a 14-2 Orioles laugher, and planning to throw myself on the mercy of the court for my hubristic (even if jesting) comments in this space.

Then, Loretta failed to run out a groundball that Melvin Mora kicked, giving the Oriole 3rd-sacker way too much time to make a play, and costing the Sox a baserunner. If Manny had done the same thing, they'd be readying his gallows in Dan Shaugnessy's office. Without even checking, I'm gonna assume that there's nothing in this morning's Globe about it. Even though the Sox were still in the game, I was awaiting cosmic retribution of a biblical nature.

Last week, I cast aspersions about Josh Bard's ability to catch Tim Wakefield, and expressed concerns about Wake's effectiveness. Today, Bard was solid, and Wake went 6 innings without allowing an earned run.

Finally, I chose Saturday night to laud young Jonathan Papelbon's dominant start, noting that the new Sox closer had not allowed a baserunner in his first 3 outings. As Luis Matos doubled to lead off the bottom of the 9th, and Papelbon hit Miguel Tejada after inducing Mora to fly to center, I was certain that Jay Gibbons would tie the game as payback. Then, when Gibbons popped harmlessly to Bard (natch - the Sox' catcher made a terrific sliding play to record the out), I was equally certain that Kevin Millar (he of the embedded Red Sox description) would turn around Papelbon's heat in a spasm of poetic justice.

And after Millar popped to J.T. Snow to end the game, I realized that the Gods were toying with me, giving me just enough angst to remind me that I don't know what I'm talking about while serving notice that this Sox team is pretty damn solid. Point taken.

Channel Zero

So, the inclement weather in Augusta was a bit of a blessing in disguise, as it allowed me to watch the Sox without interruption. Or would have, if DirectTV carried the local channel that's broadcasting today's game. Since it doesn't (aside: what the fuck is WNUV-54, and why are the Orioles airing games on public access?), I get the joy of the CBS Sportsline game ticker.

Sox up, 2-1, in the top of the 7th. Schilling had a 1-hitter through 5 before allowing a solo shot to Luis Matos in the 6th. Sure looks like a great game to watch.

I'm sure that miserable bastard Angelos is at the root of this.

Game 5 - Red Sox

Red Sox 2, Orioles 1
W: Schilling (2-0)
L: Chen (0-1)
Sv: Papelbon (2)

Well, since I'm here "watching" the game and all, figured I'd just clean this up before this entire bottle of wine goes away.

Curt Schilling has now gone 7 innings and allowed 2 or fewer runs in 2 consecutive starts, which is exactly 2 more than all of 2005. 3 Oriole hits allowed by no. 38 tonight, and a fist-pumping K against Jeff Conine to end his evening's work with the tying run on 2nd.

Jon Papelbon has now gone 3 innings and not allowed a single baserunner. He blew away old friend Kevin Millar to end tonight's game with 97 mph heat.

Man, I know it's early times, but this team has already won with offense, and it's won with pitching and defense, and the pitching staff seems to be building an identity as a bunch of hard-throwing studs (save for Timmy Wake, who's like comic relief). Whaddya say, Whit - see you in October?

(And yes, that last sentence was crafted with fingers and toes firmly crossed, and tongue mostly in cheek - it's been a good first week.)

Random note - I found a terrific cover of Drivin 'n Cryin's Straight to Hell by a singer-songwriter named Matt Nathanson on iTunes while trying to follow this game. I guess local DirectTV blackouts have a silver lining.

Doesn't make Angelos any less of a miserable prick, though.

Wild Night

Game 4 - Red Sox

Red Sox 14, Baltimore Orioles 8
W: Clement (1-0)
L: Cabrera (0-1)
Record: 3-1

If I didn't know better, I'd be inclined to think that Kevin Millar convinced his Oriole teammates to give one to the Sox last night. After several years of pesky play from the Baltimore 9, I'm used to assuming a preemptive Pavlovian fetal position at the start of every Sox/O's tilt. Yesterday, though, Oriole starter and presumptive ace-in-waiting Daniel Cabrera walked 6 in the game's first inning and yielded 7 runs in his 1 1/3 innings of work to send the Sox on their way to a pleasingly easy victory.

Coco Crisp got the Sox started with a leadoff bunt single, and Mark Loretta (who is quickly taking his place in my pantheon of beloved Sox second-sackers) worked Cabrera for a 9-pitch walk by fouling off several tough pitches. From there, the wheels spun crazily off the cart for the young Oriole righty from that point, as he walked Ortiz, Manny, Varitek, Lowell, and Alex Gonzalez while Kevin Youkilis drove in a run with a fly to right to give the Sox 4 first-inning runs. 3 more Sox tallies in the 2nd chased Cabrera and enabled me to settle in for an angst-free evening.

While geography dictated that I had to listen the O's telecast instead of Don and Jerry on NESN, even that was a pleasant surprise. Jim Palmer and Fred Manfra of Comcast Sports Net are among the few broadcasters that seem to get the new era of statistical analysis in baseball. Palmer spent a lot of time talking not just about OBP, but about why it matters and how the Sox have built their offensive success over the past 3 years around patience, plate control, and men on base. Palmer even cogently explained Theo Epstein's position that a run scored is roughly equivalent to a run prevented, which is a fairly big component of the Sox increased emphasis on defense in 2006.

Alex Gonzalez is Exhibit A for the value of that defense. After watching Edgar Renteria flail his way to 30 errors in 2005, the Sox gladly shed his $11m annual salary in exchange for (ultimately) Coco Crisp, deciding that Gonzalez wizardry with the leather might make up for his limited skills at the plate. The new Sox' shortstop paid dividends early and often last night, turning a sensational double play om Javy Lopez in the bottom of the 2nd by ranging far to his right (far enough, in fact, to get his whole body behind a ball that was ticketed for the hole), snapping off a quick, accurate throw to Loretta to send to first for the quick 6-4-3. He made another silly play on a slow roller, scooping and throwing in 1 motion to make a hard play look nonchalant.

J.T. Snow, another noted gloveman, made a terrific diving pick on a ball headed for extra bases as the O's began to make comeback noises, effectively squelching any such notions. The Sox have made 1 error in 4 games, and while the sample size is tiny, the play in the field looks downright late 90s Metsian.

Matt Clement was stellar through 6 innings before tiring and yielding 4 runs in the 7th. To be fair, he'd have been yanked much earlier in a closer game, but the 11-0 lead the Sox took to the bottom of the 7th doomed him to finish the frame, ERA be damned. Rudy Seanez looked like poop in the 8th, giving up 4 more runs on several rockets, but he was really the game's only negative note, as even Keith Foulke looked somewhat effective in the 9th, cajoling a Jay Gibbons doubleplay grounder to end the game.

Counting on Millar to continue to deliver for his old mates today, as I won't watch a lot of this afternoon's game. The 4:35 start conflicts with a tradition unlike any other, and I'll be damned if I don't get to vegatate in front of the Masters. Schilling's on the hill, and despite the fact the Sox are facing lefty Bruce Chen, I like the vibe.

One Hit (To the Body)

Game 3 – Mets

Mets 10, Nationals 5
Record: 2-1

It was a wild one at Shea last night – the kind of ballgame where the better team doesn’t always win. The Mets, however, seemed to take everything in stride and perform at precisely the proper moments. The game featured five beans, three big taters, a minor rhubarb, and a medley of strange plays. Plus, there was Nick Johnson’s facial hair, which we would label a “succotash.” Onions! (As an aside, Jose Lima got peppered in Norfolk’s opening game last night.)

The tension between the Nats and Mets had risen substantially the night prior, when Alfonso Soriano had gotten hit in the gourd. (That’s all, I promise.) Add in a couple of close finishes in the first two games, the excitement of the season-opening series, and the drama of an intra-divisional rivalry, and you need only a small spark to set these teams off. Enter Pedro “Zippo” Martinez.

Pedro clearly is not yet in his groove after an abbreviated spring, as evidenced by the lack of the pinpoint control for which he’s known. The extra zip on his fastball might never be seen ‘round these parts again, but there is reason to expect him to spot his pitches better in the not-too-distant future. As it was, there were flashes of the same old Pedro, most notably in his penchant for working the inner part of both the plate and the rib cage.

In truth, it really didn’t look like Martinez was trying to plunk the Nats. I know, I know, Pedro tendered his benefit of the doubt years ago, but it’s not that difficult to discern who’s going headhunting and who’s just wild out there. And Pedro simply looked wild.

Make no mistake – I’ve made no bones about my disdain for the false bravado that passes for loyalty and respect in baseball’s beanball lore. For as long as balls have been tossed to batters in this game, they’ve also been tossed at them. Hitting guys in retaliation is part of the game and can actually be a good measure to rein in aggressive pitchers and build camaraderie within a club. Like just about everything in baseball and beyond, it can be abused by know-nothings. In this case, there are teams of intense young men filled with excessive amounts of testosterone (either natural or injected) placed in competitive, high-pressure situations in a setting that permits them to take out their aggression dangerously while passing themselves off as safeguards of the game.

Just to be clear, here’s a little cheat sheet for HBP’s:

Batters:

1. If it’s late in a close game with runners aboard, first base occupied, the pitcher’s walked five or more batsmen, and he hits you with a slow curveball in the elbow as you lean towards the plate, chances are good it was not intentional. Please take your base quietly.
2. If you homered last time up, first base is open, the game is getting out of hand, the pitcher’s been dead-on accurate all day, and on a 2-0 count he hits you in the back with a fastball, chances are good it was intentional. You may take your base after the trainer checks you out; you may choose to charge the mound, though chances are you will be ejected and suspended. By all means, however, leave the bat in the batter’s box. Remember also that a simple glare and a shake of the head as you trot to first may be a much more effective solution than getting your ass handed to you by 25 guys wearing spikes.
3. If your situation falls somewhere in between, gauge which is the more likely answer. The grayer the area is, the less acceptable fighting over it will be. Just remember that figuring this out is not rocket science.

Pitchers:

4. If #1 has occurred, retaliation is not acceptable and will be treated as an instigatory #2 on its own. The exception will be if three or more #1’s occur within a nine-inning game, or if the opposing pitcher doubled over laughing after hitting someone.
5. If #2 has occurred, retaliation is acceptable under certain guidelines:
--- Fastballs at the face are never acceptable and are appropriately punishable by suspension, a beatdown, a trash-can stuffing, and a Melvin.
--- Aim for the body, give the man his base, and be done with it. Leave the histrionics to the fans, mascots, and Pedro Martinez.
--- Unprovoked #2’s deserve a retaliation against the infracting pitcher. There’s no reason the power-hitting third baseman deserves a welt on his hip because his teammate is a jackass. In the American League, of course, . . . the designated hitter should be abolished.
--- Once the retaliation has made teams “all square,” do not prolong the hostilities unnecessarily with more beanings. The business of winning the game should come first, and this subculture of the game at hand should be viewed as exactly that.
6. If a #3 has occurred, err on the side of caution. Remember, once a warning has been issued, all #1’s are considered #2’s by the umpiring crew, and this can work against your team’s chances of winning.

Corollary A: Fighting
A-1:Fighting is a dangerous undertaking and should be entered into seriously. Unlike most folks on the street, your entire livelihood could be affected in a brawl. Just ask Bill Lee.
A-2: If you absolutely must fight, fight. Duke it out one-on-one. No cheap shots, no ganging up, just you versus the man who hit you. Use your off-hand if you can. No karate, for Pete's sake.
A-3: Bullpens should remain in the bullpen. If you must vacate the pen, meet the other team’s bullpen somewhere in centerfield for a rumble, Jets vs. Sharks style. Singing is optional.

Corollary B: Pitching Inside
B-1: In many cases, there is a significant difference between pitching inside and headhunting. Occasionally, it’s merely a matter of a few inches and semantics, but it’s well within the rules of baseball and sportsmanship for a pitcher to throw inside. Moving hitters off the plate has been a tactic among the sport’s best arms since the days of wearing glorified gardener’s gloves. No mound should ever be charged for a brushback from the letters on down.

Corollary C: Posturing
C-1: Here’s a conversation that has yet to take place on a baseball field:
“Sorry about hitting you in the neck with that pitch.”
“That’s okay. It was an accident.”

This is another area where machismo and boys trying to be men but really being boys takes place. If you hit a guy, there is no rule that indicates you must be stoically indifferent or demonstrably affirmative. If one got away from you and you nearly put a guy into the medic ward, it’s okay to express remorse and actually make utterances as heart-wrenchingly emotional as “Sorry, dude.” Instead, we see guys deliver a post-plunk scowl as if to say “Damn right” in even the most inadvertent of HBP’s.

This all seems a little bit “Mr. Rogers meets Dr. Phil,” but these obvious concepts seem to elude ballplayers all the time. And with skippers like Tony LaRussa and Lou Piniella preaching a gospel that goes beyond eye-for-an-eye, on-field incidents will continue to occur with regularity. I just hope what has passed for fighting of late sticks to the comical and avoids the injurious. The Mets have too much riding on this year to lose guys that way.

* * *

Anyway . . . after all of the fireworks, Pedro promptly surrendered a bomb to Nick Johnson to tie the game. It was then the Mets seemed to go into overdrive, a gear not available on previous models of the New York Metwagon.

Carlos Delgado hit a laser over the right-field wall; Carlos Beltran added a two-run job from the right side of the plate; Cliff Floyd doubled in a run; Jose Reyes recorded a stand-up triple with incredible ease. David Wright is playing brilliant ball out of the gate, as is Xavier Nady. Relievers Duaner Sanchez and Chad Bradford looked dominant, and the defense (minus a big error by Mr. Martinez) held fast. Meanwhile, the bounces continued to go the Mets’ way – little things like Pedro getting an RBI single and the ejections sticking to the Nats’ side despite the difference in hit batsmen.

There is still work to be done. Pedro’s second start, also slated to be against the Nats, is bound to feature more of the same distractions, but the Mets really need him to get into his groove. The bench/pinch-hitters, a huge bright spot for the Mets last year, seem to be a weakness thus far. And Anderson Hernandez still has yet to get a hit. I know it’s nitpicking, but eventually we are going to need one or two from him as the season wears on.

Wow, those are pretty paltry complaints at this early juncture. I guess 2-1 with the offense starting to roll isn’t such a bad place to be.

William, It Was Really Nothing

Game 2 – Mets

Nationals 9, Mets 5
Record: 1-1

Question: Is a 91-mile-per-hour fastball a misnomer? Billy Wagner hurled one of them at Nats rookie Ryan Zimmerman, hoping to “blow his doors off.” The young third baseman (the latest phenom from my neck of the woods after D-W and the Upton brothers) very quickly turned it into the biggest hit by a Zimmerman since “Tangled Up in Blue.” Just like that, the naïve optimism of the dream season bled out of Mets Township like an Ebola victim’s innards. And the ensuing extra frame was appropriately disgusting.

Naturally, it’s a disheartening blow to my grand plans for the season, both in exposing my deluded sense that the new, new Mets would run away with the division from the outset as well as necessitating the rational assessment that the bullpen might not be as airtight as advertised. Truly, on paper, a Heilman/Sanchez/Wagner trio to polish off any win is a steep upgrade from seasons past. Of course, if Wagner’s fire music doesn’t offer nearly the heat he’s demonstrated throughout his career, that spells trouble.

Meanwhile, as far as replacements or supplements to the closer position go, let me state, re-state, and proclaim to the masses that Jorge Julio is not one. When I glance back at the diatribe I penned in January bemoaning the acquisition of Julio, my only regret is the clause “Maybe I’m being overly harsh”. Oh, and underestimating the joke “Me and Julio Down By Two Runs.” It took only two batters for Julio to put the Mets down two. My favorite post-game quote came from Jose Guillen (the man to hit that two-run dinger in the 10th), who quipped, “Hanging slider right in the middle. What do you expect me to do in that situation?” But Jorge continued to struggle even after that, aided and abetted by Paul LoDuca’s impersonation of Jerry Lewis behind the plate.

It was painful to watch, as I sat in Wheelhouse author Jerry’s living room amid a sea of expletives. Fortunately, a three-hour car ride home this morning with nothing to do except bristle at the images from last night have given me the appropriate perspective so as to keep my possessions from being lodged in drywall somewhere in my house.

In Paul LoDuca’s defense, it’s kind of like cycling or race car driving – when one guy crashes and the folks around him quickly spill to the asphalt or hit the wall – once Wagner and Julio had set the slide in motion, these spills become contagious.

In Jorge Julio’s defense, the tone of the game had grown quickly negative and desperate with Wagner’s gopher ball. He merely accentuated it. And, playing baseball is really hard and not for everyone, so quit picking on the guy.

In Billy Wagner’s defense, Zimmerman is not just any scared rookie, and it is just one game. Billy, take heed of this post’s title. It’s not time for panic on the streets of New York yet. Looks like we’re going to need a lot of your best stuff this season, so here’s hoping you find it. And fast.

That I couldn’t use this post’s space to laud the efforts of the worthy – Brian Bannister for a solid first start, Carlos Delgado for his two-run bomb, Xavier Nady for beginning this season enflamed, or Anderson Hernandez for one of the best defensive plays since David Wright’s acrobatics in short left last year – is disappointing. But there will be plenty of time for praise after the next win. Pedro on the hill tonight. How soon can we re-start the excitement of this young Mets season? Well, how soon is now?

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

Since Whit's clearly taking his time to digest last night's Looperian disaster in Metsville, allow me to provide him something a little softer upon which to chew. Plans for the Mets' new ballpark are rendered artistically here. I dig it, though I've never been to Shea, so I've got nothing against which to compare it.

The New Kid

Game 3 - Red Sox

Red Sox 2, Rangers 1
W: Beckett (1-0)
L: Loe (0-1)
Sv: Papelbon (!) (1)
Record: 2-1

The header on this post could refer to either of the young, hard-throwing righties that led the Sox to a thoroughly enjoyable win last night. Josh Beckett scuffled in the game's early innings, giving up a double to Brad Wilkerson to lead off the game, and allowing him to score on Michael Young's infield single. After 3 innings, Beckett had thrown nearly 60 pitches and pitched out of a couple of mini-jams. From that point, though, he showed what all the fuss was about, dominating a very strong Ranger lineup, and leaving the game after 7 mostly strong innings.

Beckett pitches like the Texas farm kid he is, rearing back and firing gas - many of his fastballs reached 96 mph on the radar gun - and not backing down from hitters. He's got an easy motion, really good leg drive, and - as evidenced by an inning-ending primal scream/fist pump - he's got a nasty competitive streak. I can't wait to see him and Schilling feed off each other this year.

After Trot Nixon's 7th inning homer finally cracked the Kameron Loe riddle (I'd be perfectly happy not to see the Rangers' tall young sinkerballer again this year, as would Papi and Manny, who combined to go 0 for 6 against him with 2 Ortiz double plays) and gave the Sox their first lead, Mike Timlin pitched an, um, adventurous 8th inning. The Rangers' 3rd base coach, Steve Smith, gave the Sox a huge boost by inexplicably sending Mark Teixiera home from 2nd on a smoked single to left by Kevin Mench. Even with Manny's accurate but weak throw requiring a cutoff to get to the plate, Teixiera was Texas toast. Guess those pictures of Smith with young livestock came in handy.

I began to get mildly nervous - well, as nervous as you can get in the 3rd game of the season - when the Sox were retired in the top of the 9th, knowing that Keith Foulke's form is less than top-notch at the moment. I was more than surprised, then, to see Jonathan Papelbon on the hill with the telecast returned from the commercial break. Ballsy move by Terry Francona, and one that had lots of potential to backfire if Papelbon didn't deliver in his very first major league closing opportunity. As it turns out, the move had lots of potential to lift the team, too, as Papelbon was more than dominant in sandwiching 2 strikeouts of overmatched Ranger batters around a weak pop to short. Francona's emotional reaction to the game's final pitch was telling, as he yelled loudly and high-fived everyone in his immediate vicinity. Boldness rewarded, and a possible new era dawning.

Dancing in the Dark

Game 2 - Red Sox

Rangers 10, Red Sox 4
W: Padilla (1-0)
L: Wakefield (0-1)
Record: 1-1

Josh Bard is no Doug Mirabelli. And last night's Tim Wakefield bears little resemblance to the inning-eating workhorse of the past 10 years. The open question, unanswerable based upon the limited sample size of 3.2 innings, is whether those 2 statements are linked.

Wakefield was just plain bad in the game's opening frame, missing the strike zone repeatedly, and leaving balls over the heart of the plate when he found it. The Rangers led, 4-0, after 4 batters, courtesy of 2 singles, a walk and a Phil Nevin moon shot. That the scoring was not impacted by the first of 3 Bard passed balls was partially because Nevin's bomb ensured that the runs would score anyway. Bard balls get by him in the 2nd and 3rd innings, as well, and generally seem ill-equipped to handle Wake's flutterballs all game - jabbing and reaching like a spasmodic game fowl looking for dinner.

Backup catcher is arguably a more important position on the Sox than most clubs, as the no. 2 guy is Wake's de facto caddy. One of the underrated values Mirabelli brought to the Sox was better than average offensive production (in relative terms, compared to most defense-first receivers) in combination with his comfort with Wakefield - and Wake's comfort with him. I have no illusion that Bard (he of the .655 lifetime OPS) will replace Mirabelli's bat, but if he can't field the position he provides absolutely zero value to this team. And if his inability to catch the knuckler reduces Wakefield's confidence in throwing it, Bard will be a significant liability.

It's certainly too early to tell, but my eyebrows were raised early and often last night. Wake's next start takes on more importance than most early-season tilts.

On a positive note (and there weren't many last night after the Sox fell behind 7-0), Coco Crisp is on pace to score over 300 runs this season, and looks really good rounding 3rd at full speed. Wily Mo Pena got his first hit in a Sox uniform, singling in a run in a pinch-hitting role. And David Ortiz pulverized a double to right after coaxing walks from a very cautious Vicente Padilla in first 2 trips to the plate - Papi is clearly the most-feared bat in the Sox lineup, as the Ranger staff went right at Manny last night. Switching the 2 in the order may be a wise move.

I'm geeked up to see Josh Beckett's Sox debut tonight in Texas - so much so that I'm just moving past last night as a necessary bump in a long, long road.

Get Started, Start a Fire

Game 1 – Mets

Mets 3, Nationals 2
Record: 1-0

Last year, right in the face of the frenzied optimism about Pedro Martinez, Carlos Beltran, and the “New Mets,” the team uncorked the season with a late-inning implosion. That debacle and the ensuing sense that these new Mets were better but still Not-Ready-for-Prime-Time players quickly became a rockslide of a first week. And though 0-5 became 6-5 after the next week, tone-setting opening scenes cannot be deleted that quickly. The feeling that if the Mets could be swept by the lowly Reds out of the gate they might be in some trouble over the long haul – it proved fairly accurate.

The tone of the tip-off is usually dismissed as “just one game.” And anything that doesn’t go your club’s way over the next month? “It’s still only April.” And of course it’s true, but there is no escaping the emotional lift or drain Opening Day provides. More times than fans would care to realize, it’s an augury for the season’s outlook. When the Mets took a 15-2 beating at the hands of the Cubs three years ago, boy, was that an accurate forecast. (As was the Red Sox losing a heartbreaker that same night.) Last year’s Looper-fied letdown was indicative of a just-short kind of squad. Here’s hoping yesterday’s solid display defines 2006 perfectly for the new, new Mets.

Sometimes it’s not Opening Day per se, but the opening series. In ’04, the Mets knocked off the Braves in Game 1, and Mets fans were ecstatic. Two days later, however, after allowing 18 and 10 runs in Games 2 and 3, well . . . we were readied for a 71-win season. So while optimism is cresting after a close win over a division rival at Shea yesterday, I am counting on the Metropolitans to build upon that tomorrow and Thursday. Let’s face it, the Nationals have a few sparks in that lineup, and Livan Hernandez is an actual ace (as opposed to many roles on the Nats being filled by “but I play one on TV” personnel) but the club from the nation’s capital is pegged for 65 wins, roughly. (And I do mean roughly. Thank you, Bud Selig.)

So what of the actual game? Tom Glavine’s slow-and-slower mélange kept the Nationals off-balance for six strong innings. In his fourth year, the guy is finally growing on me. (As I type that, I can’t believe this is already his fourth year as a Met. Who knew?) Aaron Heilman shrewdly attempted to extricate himself from middle relief by getting knocked around, but a fine relay from Floyd-to-Reyes-to-LoDuca – and a missed drop by the home plate umpire – saved the inning with minimal damage. (Hey, having karma lined up for you from Day 1 ain’t too shabby, either.) Billy Wagner entered and closed it out, thanks to rookie baserunning from the most tenured ExpoNat, Jose Vidro.

On the helmeted side of the equation, our hero David Wright homered, Xavier Nady notched four hits, and Glavine himself singled twice. Meanwhile, the Mets’ Latin contingent went 0-for-18 and left 19 men on base. Whoops. Individual stats, of course, must get shrugged off with one of the quips quoted above, but it would be nice to see some of the muscle Omar brought on board do some flexing.

For now, let’s zero in on Brian Bannister vs. John Patterson Wednesday night. Life is good in the Township today, but it’s still too hazy to see what’s on the horizon.

Begin the Begin

Game 1 - Red Sox

Red Sox 7, Texas Rangers 3
W: Schilling (1-0)
L: Millwood (0-1)
Record: 1-0

Curt Schilling goes 7 strong - check. Papi delivers a tape measure bomb - check. Mike Lowell's much-maligned bat follows suit - check. Coco Crisp shines in the field - check. Jonathan Papelbon throws a scoreless setup frame - check. Keith Foulke slams the door - okay, we'll not let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Outside of few quibbles (Schilling threw 117 (!) pitches on opening day, Kevin Youkilis didn't show much at the plate) the Nation couldn't have asked for a better opener.

Millwood kept the Sox quiet for the first 3 innings before Jason Varitek hammered a 2-out double to score 2 in the 4th. Papi rocked a 2-run blast in the 5th to give Schilling a 5-0 lead, and the result was never in doubt. With Whit's Metropolitans squeaking out a fortunate win over the Nationals this afternoon, baseball season dawned brightly indeed here at MLC.

And with tomorrow evening's tilt against the Rangers televised, I've got an excuse not to watch the debut of ESPN's Bonds on Bonds reality show. Worldwide Leader? Maybe if we're measuring the magnitude of ethical misjudgments. ESPN's credibility as a news organization, strained as it already was by Dick Vitale's bug-eyed histrionics, Digger Phelps' color-coded accoutrements, and Chris Berman's bloviation, shuffles off this mortal coil this week. Somewhere, Bob Ley is crying softly over a picture of Tom Mees.

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

I’ve been meaning to stop by MLC headquarters recently and weigh in on a great number of things, from the (real) WBC to Barry Bonds to the state of the New York Mets as we peer over the edge into the great abyss that is the 2006 baseball season. It hasn’t happened, obviously, and now that it’s Opening Day, it’s all rather secondary. Rob and I have never dabbled too heavily in the off-season banter, something we dismiss as a rash of hypotheticals, theoreticals, and futile exercises reserved for those lucky fools who have more time on their hands than we do. This winter was no exception, but it’s that time of year again where we earn our keep around here. The month of April brings us April showers, April Fool’s Day, and income tax deadlines; that it also rewards us with a new baseball season every year more than atones for the annoyance and idiocy of the other milestones. More talented artists than I emit poetic passages on the national pastime each spring, so I’ll spare you any such trifles. It suffices to say that I am pretty friggin’ jazzed for this baseball season, and specifically this Mets season.

Don’t let that last sentence fool you – I’m not entirely sold on these New York Mets. My family baseball pool illustrates my unwillingness to go all in on them, as I have once again predicted that the Atlanta Braves will finish first in the NL East. Sure, part of that is an emotional hedge; I only want to get but so caught up in a process that has provided a like-clockwork letdown for a very long time. Even rationally, however, I see as many holes in the Mets as any of the teams that provide their stiffest competition. Let’s take a quick gander . . .

The Rotation
Pitching and defense – those oft-mentioned elements that separate baseball’s fundamental overachievers from the ostentatious, casual-fan-pleasing 4th place finishers – the mantra isn’t some trite myth. Those two factors really do serve as the cornerstones of a franchise’s success. While the Mets did improve their defense behind the plate and at second base (only because Kaz Matsui answered the prayers of thousands by getting hurt), they parted with a right-fielder and first basemen who rank among the league’s best with the mitt. More significantly, for all of the ink the Mets drew with another off-season of big signings, they did absolutely nothing to take their pitching rotation to loftier levels.

The 2005 staff of Pedro-Glavine-Benson-Zambrano-Ishii/Seo was solid by the numbers (3rd in the NL in runs/game and ERA), but nobody in Mets Township likely remembers it as dominant. Furthermore, each of them pitched about as well as can be realistically expected of them. Pedro was fairly dominant, Glavine held fast, Benson and Zambrano were similarly mediocre to their career numbers, and Jae Seo was beyond reliable. (Ishii sucked horribly in most of his 16 starts and represents the only bust among the starters.) Will 2006 be as close to reaching these guys’ “upside” as 2005 was? While Pedro’s toe jams up Rick Peterson’s plans, Tom Glavine is a year older, Kris Benson’s in the Charm City, Victor Zambrano still has us gluttons for punishment scanning Tampa box scores, and Jae Seo “Long” is a Dodger. (We wish Jae Seo well; we’ll miss the puns his name lent itself to for sure. Meanwhile, we expect his control to improve there, since nobody walks in L.A.)

Sorry.

On the (very limited) plus side, Steve Trachsel, a favorite of mine, is back. (True fact: watching Mets games in TiVo’s fast forward makes Tom Glavine’s fastball and Steve Trachsel’s delivery resemble normal speed.) Somehow, though, Aaron Heilman is still not in the rotation. What this kid has to do to become a starter – perhaps falter mightily? – is beyond me. Of course I can see his value in the pen, but just imagine Pedro as a middle reliever, too. There’s a reason starters collect more money, fame, and recognition. Handing the ball to Floyd Bannister’s kid has to have fan fave Heilman scratching his head. It sure has me scratching mine.

Again, it’s not so much the pitchers the Mets have on their staff, it’s the guys they don’t. It’s who they didn’t go out and get during the spree. Everyone who marvels at the firepower the Mets purchased in Carlos Delgado and Billy Wagner sees a shoring up of two areas of weakness. When you start to look at the big picture, however – playing for a pennant – you can’t ignore the fact that the Mets have a rotation that’s middle-of-the-pack, and a little-piggie injury away from being downright poor.

The Golden (Girl) Age
Earlier this spring, I revealed a deep-rooted fear that the Mets are all-too-eerily resembling their crosstown counterparts of late when it comes to a business model. They’s spending dollars aplenty to bolster home run numbers, strikeouts, and All-Star appearances, and they’re mortgaging the farm team’s offerings to acquire the heroes of yesteryear. Here’s a stat for you:

Last year the New York Yankees had 85 All-Star appearances on their roster.

The Chicago White Sox had 17, and 5 of those came from Frank Thomas, who
played little to no role in the winning of the World Series.

The Yanks filled out their squad with a bevy of high-priced talent. That these guys’ rookie cards are worth a small fortune says a lot about the veteran credentials they carried; that those rookie cards featured bleached mullets, zubaz, and Z’s shaved into Afro flat-tops says more. When those guys broke down, nobody upon nobody was surprised. Adding 34-year-old Billy Wagner, 33-year-old Carlos Delgado, and 57-year-old Julio Franco means more aged leadership in the clubhouse to accompany Tom Glavine to early bird specials on road trips. What does it mean for the Mets’ future?

That’s it, though. I’m worried about the starting pitching and the ability of older players to tough out another grind of a season. Beyond that, there are meat, potatoes, and, I am hoping, boats full of gravy this season.

Today is Day 1 on a six-month quest for all of us.

Pack a cooler. Could be a wild one.

Ahhhh, Spring

Flowers blooming, birds singing, that first-thing-in-the-morning smell of dew on the grass. And Papi going waaay deep on Opening Day.

Duty Calls

With the season starting in just over 2 hours, I suppose convention dictates that I drop a little bit of a preview in this space - and a very little bit of one follows.

The baseball congnoscenti seem to believe that 2006 represents a retrenching year for the Sox. Most experts have conceded the division to the Yankees, and many are positioning the Blue Jays as the 2nd-best team in the AL East. In my most rational moments, I buy the argument, viewing the Sox as an 85-95 win team that's pointing to 2007 to really do big things - lots of questions about integrating new faces into the lineup, and injury issues regarding key pitchers (Schilling and Foulke, of note). That said, there's a lot of my less rational side that's bullish about this team's upside - tons of pitching depth, interesting options offensively and defensively, and a gross of young pitching talent that could make a major impact over the 2nd half of the season.

I guess you could call me cautiously optmistic, with markedly less angst than I usually carry into season openers. If they gel, they could be really good. If not, they've still built a terrific foundation for the future.

Schilling vs. Millwood in Texas at 2:00 EST, on the same day that March Madness ends. I've had worse days.

Stretching Exercises

Still way too engrossed in March Madness to care much about the goings on in Fort Myers, but I figured I'd drop in here for a moment to comment on the Sox recent trade of Bronson Arroyo for the sublimely-named Wily Mo Pena.

Many in the media denounced the trade as counter to the Sox' sabermetric philosophies - Pena's a swing-and-miss type of guy, with a low batting average and OBP, who is capable of hitting the ball a country mile when he connects. A latter-day Pedro Cerrano, if you will, except that he's only 24 years old. Erstwhile Mets GM Steve Phillips (and I like Steve Phillips, for what it's worth, but I didn't have to live through his acquisition of Mo Vaughn, either) was perplexed by the anti-Moneyball nature of the move.

As usual, the mass media is missing the point. The Moneyball philosophy seeks to exploit market inefficiencies - and those inefficiencies change over time. In the Arroyo/Pena example, the Sox traded a player with an average skillset (regardless of whether I like Arroyo personally, and I do, he's the definition of average) at a position where they had a substantial surplus for a young guy with elite power skills and unpolished on-base skills. Pena's high K rates and low average combine to create a market perception of his value that is below the Sox' opinion of his actual value. SoSH member Carroll Hardy puts it much better than I do:

1. He has certain specific, elite skills that are both demonstrable (scouting)
and measurable/repeatable (sabremetric). Just because they happen to be ISO (MLC Ed Note: statgeekage alert - ISO is isolated slugging) instead of OBP is immaterial. He has elite skills.

2. He has also demonstrated that there are other skills/traits that he does not currently possess, and may never (MLC Ed Note: OBP and average). It is the combination of those two statements that make him valuable. Merely possessing elite skills does not make him valuable (as opposed to expensive). What makes him valuable is that those elite skills are discounted precisely because of his shortcomings (perceived or otherwise).

Add to that the fact that Pena's under contract until 2008 at low cost, that he's a right-handed hitting right-fielder who can platoon with Trot Nixon, that he's a Dominican who reportedly bonded with David Ortiz during the World Baseball Classic, and that he's another silly-named outfielder, and this trade's a big win for the Sox.

I'm bummed to see Arroyo gone, especially in the wake of his really stand-up comments after the trade (note to Johnny Damon - that's how a professional conducts himself after a business transaction that doesn't go exactly how he planned). Another of the 25 cast to the winds, but in a manner that makes the 2006-08 Red Sox better. It seems every day I'm reminded of the fact that this Sox ownership/management group is the best in my lifetime, and probably the best in the club's history.

The Dead Horse That Keeps On Kicking

Some quick news from the "other" World Baseball Classic . . .

The United States lost again the other night, this time to Korea in a loss that may result in a premature exit for America from the games. The U.S. played sloppy defense, Dontrelle Willis was off once again, and the hitters still weren't tearing the cover off the ball, but the big dent in the Americans' hopes came when Hee Seop Choi blasted a three-run homer in the middle innings. Spirit-crushing. Game-ruining. Pants-soiling. Sound familiar to any MLC readers out there? It should, because for our first two years in business here, middle relievers inspiring such dramatic text was a weekly occurrence, and one guy in particular stood out above the rest -- the same fellow whose pitch Choi hammered out.

Dan Wheeler, Team USA.

Ring a bell? You remember, Dan Wheeler.

Come on, surely you recall Dan Wheeler.

Does this jog your memory?

No? How about this?

Surely this brings it all back . . .

Yeah, I thought you'd remember. Clearly, Buck Martinez is not an MLC subscriber.

Anyway, this has been another edition of Where Are They Now? Next week we'll check in with Doc Gooden . . .