Holy Freaking Gas on the Fire, Batman
Boston news outlets are reporting that Ramiro Mendoza will start against the Yankees in the Bronx on Saturday. Cover your heads and don your gas masks, 'cause this is gonna be ugly.
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Mets Firesale Underway
Whitney is unlikely to be blogging in the near future. He'll claim that the combined stresses of a new child and a new house are just too much, but we all know that he's even lazier than I am. At least I had a winning streak to fall back on as an excuse. Understanding that he'll be otherwise engaged, I thought I'd spend a few minutes on the trade his Mets made today.
New York sent Roberto Alomar to Chicago for three minor league prospects, including the Chisox' 2002 first round draft pick, Royce Ring, a promising relief pitcher. The Mets will pay all of Alomar's remaining 2003 salary - $3.9 million - as part of the deal. Probably not a bad deal for either team - the Mets get rid of Alomar's corpse, and the ChiSox get to see if they can reincarnate him at no financial cost in 2003. What it really highlights, though, is Alomar's decline.
In his last three years with Cleveland, Alomar put up an average season that looks like this: .323, 21 HR, 103 RBI, .405 OBP, .516 SLG. Awesome, Hall of Fame-type numbers, from a guy who was also one of the league's slickest fielders. In the two years he's "played" with the Mets, his numbers look like this (with '03 projected based on current stats): .264, 8 HR, 49 RBI, .333 OBP, .367 SLG. That's not bad, it's falling-off-a-cliff awful. Man, Mets fans must be happy to get this stiff gone.
Whitney is unlikely to be blogging in the near future. He'll claim that the combined stresses of a new child and a new house are just too much, but we all know that he's even lazier than I am. At least I had a winning streak to fall back on as an excuse. Understanding that he'll be otherwise engaged, I thought I'd spend a few minutes on the trade his Mets made today.
New York sent Roberto Alomar to Chicago for three minor league prospects, including the Chisox' 2002 first round draft pick, Royce Ring, a promising relief pitcher. The Mets will pay all of Alomar's remaining 2003 salary - $3.9 million - as part of the deal. Probably not a bad deal for either team - the Mets get rid of Alomar's corpse, and the ChiSox get to see if they can reincarnate him at no financial cost in 2003. What it really highlights, though, is Alomar's decline.
In his last three years with Cleveland, Alomar put up an average season that looks like this: .323, 21 HR, 103 RBI, .405 OBP, .516 SLG. Awesome, Hall of Fame-type numbers, from a guy who was also one of the league's slickest fielders. In the two years he's "played" with the Mets, his numbers look like this (with '03 projected based on current stats): .264, 8 HR, 49 RBI, .333 OBP, .367 SLG. That's not bad, it's falling-off-a-cliff awful. Man, Mets fans must be happy to get this stiff gone.
And Now for Something Completely Different: Misery Loves Company Literary Review
I just finished Moneyball, by Michael Lewis, an outsider's look at the internal workings of the Oakland A's front office. The book has created a whirlwind of controversy in MLB management circles, largely because it paints nearly everyone in the baseball front offices as idiots who serve to make A's GM Billy Beane look like a genius. Lewis is worshipful of Beane and his front office team, so it's difficult to tell how much of the book is a true reflection of reality, but the following themes are undeniable:
1. Baseball management, as currently configured, is a network of conservative thinkers who function with the preservation of the as a primary goal. In this environment, new ideas are openly mocked, and creative thinkers are largely surpressed.
2. Past performance (as measured by statistics) is a vastly more efficent method for predicting future performance for players than the current "tools"-based method. In other words, a player that has demonstrated an ability to hit, pitch, field, etc. is more likely to succeed than a player who looks like he can play. This is, in my opinion, the really critical insight that the A's have leveraged to great success. Baseball scouts love guys who look like Adonis and run like deer. The A's don't care if they look like Ben Stein, as long as they understand the strike zone and have shown an aptitude for hitting a baseball.
3. As a result of 1. and 2., the market for baseball talent (players) is grossly inefficient. Teams have failed to internalize reams of scientific evidence indicating that their current scouting and development practices are suboptimal. Scouting, drafting, signing and developing players is a crapshoot, and it doesn't have to be - at least not as much of one.
4. The very few teams that understand 1. and 2., and actively use performance-based measurements in running their systems, have a distinct advantage in the near term over those teams that continue to operate using traditional methods. The A's, Blue Jays, Red Sox, and - to a lesser extent - Padres, have all moved to a new model, and are among the league's best teams (with the obvious exception of San Diego, who has been crippled by injuries).
5. The Yankees' unlimited funding renders a lot of this moot. That's not in the book, but it is true.
I'll be interested in the impact that this book - and more to the point, the success of the teams listed above - has on the way baseball is run. In most markets, inefficiencies don't last very long as the market moves to eliminate the advantages held by the few. Baseball has proven to be an exception, as the "baseball minds" that run the game have resisted the imposition of market efficiencies for decades. Does this mean that the Sox under John Henry will have a long, successful run? Does it mean that baseball will finally pull its collective head out of the sand and move to a model that forces continued evolution, like nearly every other market system? Will the Yankees just buy everyone else and make them all part of their farm system? Stay tuned, because the future of the game is at stake.
I just finished Moneyball, by Michael Lewis, an outsider's look at the internal workings of the Oakland A's front office. The book has created a whirlwind of controversy in MLB management circles, largely because it paints nearly everyone in the baseball front offices as idiots who serve to make A's GM Billy Beane look like a genius. Lewis is worshipful of Beane and his front office team, so it's difficult to tell how much of the book is a true reflection of reality, but the following themes are undeniable:
1. Baseball management, as currently configured, is a network of conservative thinkers who function with the preservation of the as a primary goal. In this environment, new ideas are openly mocked, and creative thinkers are largely surpressed.
2. Past performance (as measured by statistics) is a vastly more efficent method for predicting future performance for players than the current "tools"-based method. In other words, a player that has demonstrated an ability to hit, pitch, field, etc. is more likely to succeed than a player who looks like he can play. This is, in my opinion, the really critical insight that the A's have leveraged to great success. Baseball scouts love guys who look like Adonis and run like deer. The A's don't care if they look like Ben Stein, as long as they understand the strike zone and have shown an aptitude for hitting a baseball.
3. As a result of 1. and 2., the market for baseball talent (players) is grossly inefficient. Teams have failed to internalize reams of scientific evidence indicating that their current scouting and development practices are suboptimal. Scouting, drafting, signing and developing players is a crapshoot, and it doesn't have to be - at least not as much of one.
4. The very few teams that understand 1. and 2., and actively use performance-based measurements in running their systems, have a distinct advantage in the near term over those teams that continue to operate using traditional methods. The A's, Blue Jays, Red Sox, and - to a lesser extent - Padres, have all moved to a new model, and are among the league's best teams (with the obvious exception of San Diego, who has been crippled by injuries).
5. The Yankees' unlimited funding renders a lot of this moot. That's not in the book, but it is true.
I'll be interested in the impact that this book - and more to the point, the success of the teams listed above - has on the way baseball is run. In most markets, inefficiencies don't last very long as the market moves to eliminate the advantages held by the few. Baseball has proven to be an exception, as the "baseball minds" that run the game have resisted the imposition of market efficiencies for decades. Does this mean that the Sox under John Henry will have a long, successful run? Does it mean that baseball will finally pull its collective head out of the sand and move to a model that forces continued evolution, like nearly every other market system? Will the Yankees just buy everyone else and make them all part of their farm system? Stay tuned, because the future of the game is at stake.
Monday, June 30, 2003
During All This Met-Bashing, We've Neglected to Mention That the Tigers are Really, Really Awful
We killed the Tiger Watch after the Felines ripped off a halfway-decent stretch, but, man, they're really, really horrible. Two games shy of the halfway mark, Detroit sports an 18-61 record, a zippy .227 winning percentage - amazingly, that's .002 higher than their .225 batting average.
.227 translates to a 36-126 record over 162 games - truly '62 Metsian. The Tabbies have scored a league-low 247 runs (3.12 runs/game), rapped a dismal 89 doubles (last in the majors by 47), and managed a paltry .630 OPS (.288 OBP/.342 SLG). Put more colorfully, the Tigers are what you would get if you had a team of 9 David Ecksteins (.636 OPS), minus the scrappy, manic energy. Brad Penny, the Marlins hurler, has a .625 OPS. Dismal, just dismal. How it must pain Alan Trammell and Kirk Gibson to be associated with this dreck.
We killed the Tiger Watch after the Felines ripped off a halfway-decent stretch, but, man, they're really, really horrible. Two games shy of the halfway mark, Detroit sports an 18-61 record, a zippy .227 winning percentage - amazingly, that's .002 higher than their .225 batting average.
.227 translates to a 36-126 record over 162 games - truly '62 Metsian. The Tabbies have scored a league-low 247 runs (3.12 runs/game), rapped a dismal 89 doubles (last in the majors by 47), and managed a paltry .630 OPS (.288 OBP/.342 SLG). Put more colorfully, the Tigers are what you would get if you had a team of 9 David Ecksteins (.636 OPS), minus the scrappy, manic energy. Brad Penny, the Marlins hurler, has a .625 OPS. Dismal, just dismal. How it must pain Alan Trammell and Kirk Gibson to be associated with this dreck.
Games 77 through 80 - Mets
Yankees 6, Mets 4
Yankees 7, Mets 1
Yankees 9, Mets 8
Yankees 5, Mets 3
Record: 34-46
Would that I could, I'd refute my diminutive colleague's slew of gratuitously profane Met comments today. Sadly, I cannot. The Mets willingly handed over bragging rights to the Yankees and their fans. The thing is, after the Mets' performance of late, the Yanks may not be that thrilled to have them -- it's really nothing worth bragging about (though their fans have never been overly judicious in that department). And as much as taking a four-game beating (six, overall) might make me scream and shout about who did what that killed them in these series, instead it's just another one of those punches in the gut that takes the wind from my sails and leaves me lethargic. So, let's not bicker and argue about who killed who. (In doing so, Al Leiter, great guy that he is, is ducking further examination of his decline.)
This stretch of the season, as we reach the halfway point after tonight's battle royale with Les Expos, may prove to be the most challenging for me. It seems like just last week I prophesized (with amazing accuracy, yet again, pat pat pat, toot toot toot, whoop-de-damn-do) that "this may be the apex of my 2003 baseball season enjoyment." (In truth, it was just 11 days ago.) That fleeting high I was on -- and let's face it, what a pathetic season to have extracted that much satisfaction from that little productivity -- evaporated in a blink. I won't delve much further, given the 81-Game Check-up forthcoming, but it's going to take a herculean effort for me to maintain the energy to continue posting daily tidbits about Mets games. What with the horrendously-planned agenda in my immediate future (2nd baby + moving within the next 10 days), it would be fantastic to have a happy distraction from these unprecedented stress levels. In a perfect world (for me -- this would be a little slice of hell on earth for Rob Russell), the perennially-contending Mets would be running away with it, I could follow their run to the best of my ability and weigh in where necessary. Sadly, the Metropolitans' woes are surely inducing a malaise over me, and any distraction they offer I'll try to block from my thoughts. The only bright spot in this grey, nearly black cloud forming over Shea is that, in general and in my opinion, troubled times often make for more humorous banter (dark comedy, of course). There is something more innately funny to others about a man in agony than there ever can be about a man in an equally gleeful state.
So, a sense of obligation to share with my reader(s) the misery in which I wallow, in hopes of achieving a cackle at my expense, may carry me through these dark hours; beyond that, there may be nothing but the links on the side to keep this from becoming an all-BoSox site. Stay tuned.
Yankees 6, Mets 4
Yankees 7, Mets 1
Yankees 9, Mets 8
Yankees 5, Mets 3
Record: 34-46
Would that I could, I'd refute my diminutive colleague's slew of gratuitously profane Met comments today. Sadly, I cannot. The Mets willingly handed over bragging rights to the Yankees and their fans. The thing is, after the Mets' performance of late, the Yanks may not be that thrilled to have them -- it's really nothing worth bragging about (though their fans have never been overly judicious in that department). And as much as taking a four-game beating (six, overall) might make me scream and shout about who did what that killed them in these series, instead it's just another one of those punches in the gut that takes the wind from my sails and leaves me lethargic. So, let's not bicker and argue about who killed who. (In doing so, Al Leiter, great guy that he is, is ducking further examination of his decline.)
This stretch of the season, as we reach the halfway point after tonight's battle royale with Les Expos, may prove to be the most challenging for me. It seems like just last week I prophesized (with amazing accuracy, yet again, pat pat pat, toot toot toot, whoop-de-damn-do) that "this may be the apex of my 2003 baseball season enjoyment." (In truth, it was just 11 days ago.) That fleeting high I was on -- and let's face it, what a pathetic season to have extracted that much satisfaction from that little productivity -- evaporated in a blink. I won't delve much further, given the 81-Game Check-up forthcoming, but it's going to take a herculean effort for me to maintain the energy to continue posting daily tidbits about Mets games. What with the horrendously-planned agenda in my immediate future (2nd baby + moving within the next 10 days), it would be fantastic to have a happy distraction from these unprecedented stress levels. In a perfect world (for me -- this would be a little slice of hell on earth for Rob Russell), the perennially-contending Mets would be running away with it, I could follow their run to the best of my ability and weigh in where necessary. Sadly, the Metropolitans' woes are surely inducing a malaise over me, and any distraction they offer I'll try to block from my thoughts. The only bright spot in this grey, nearly black cloud forming over Shea is that, in general and in my opinion, troubled times often make for more humorous banter (dark comedy, of course). There is something more innately funny to others about a man in agony than there ever can be about a man in an equally gleeful state.
So, a sense of obligation to share with my reader(s) the misery in which I wallow, in hopes of achieving a cackle at my expense, may carry me through these dark hours; beyond that, there may be nothing but the links on the side to keep this from becoming an all-BoSox site. Stay tuned.
Effing Mets
Here's a hearty "Eat a Bag of Shit" to the New York Mets and their fans. You've joined the Minnesota Twins on the 2003 Roll Over and Toss Yankee Salad list. And, while I'm at it, how about a robust "Tongue My Sack" to George Steinbrenner for all his complaining about the unfairness of the interleague schedule. The Yanks' 13-5 interleague record was the best in baseball, and 2.5 games better than the Sox (who still have to play the Phils on Sept. 1). Maybe next year the Yankees can play 6 against the Padres. That'd be a step up in terms of difficulty from the Mets.
Here's a hearty "Eat a Bag of Shit" to the New York Mets and their fans. You've joined the Minnesota Twins on the 2003 Roll Over and Toss Yankee Salad list. And, while I'm at it, how about a robust "Tongue My Sack" to George Steinbrenner for all his complaining about the unfairness of the interleague schedule. The Yanks' 13-5 interleague record was the best in baseball, and 2.5 games better than the Sox (who still have to play the Phils on Sept. 1). Maybe next year the Yankees can play 6 against the Padres. That'd be a step up in terms of difficulty from the Mets.
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Games 74 - 80 - Red Sox
Red Sox 3, Detroit Tigers 1
Red Sox 10, Tigers 1
Red Sox 11, Tigers 2
Red Sox 6, Tigers 4
Red Sox 25, Florida Marlins 8
Marlins 10, Red Sox 9
Red Sox 11, Marlins 7
Record: 47-33
The self-imposed hiatus is over, but it shouldn't be. This week, and Saturday's game against the Marlins in particular, has crystallized my feelings about this Sox team. The Sox have scored 75 runs in their last 7 games. 75 runs!!! Beer league softball teams don't score that often, especially ours. They have the single deepest, strongest, most versatile offense in all of baseball. This is not open to argument. They lead the major leagues in hits, runs, doubles, total bases, batting average, on-base percentage, and slugging. Their team OPS (.860) is higher than Alfonso Soriano's (.855).
They also have one of the most suspect pitching staffs in all of baseball. They led the Marlins, 9-2, in the 8th inning of Saturday's game and found a way to blow it. They have given away at least a half-dozen games in the first half of the season through poor relief pitching and bad managerial decisions, and that's probably conservative. I'm not even counting the handful of games that Derek Lowe gave away in the season's first month. This team, with this offense and average pitching could easily be 55-25. Easily.
For all my pissing and moaning, the Sox are squarely in the middle of the playoff race, leading the AL Wild Card race by 1 game over the A's. Since the Yankees are treating my friend's Metropolitans like the randy bull treated the traitor in the cow suit in Top Secret, the division deficit has grown to 3.5 games (although the 3-run shot Jeremy Burnitz just touched off is a nice start to this game). Regardless, I still believe that the Yankees aged starting pitching will catch up to them during the heat of the summer, leaving the door open. If...
...the Sox go out and get one more stud arm. Here's what I believe: if the Sox get one more above-average pitcher - either a closer or a starter (at which point Kim moves to the closer role) - they will win the American League. If they don't, they will make a run at the playoffs, but probably fall short in the most exasperating manner possible. There are a bunch of names running through my mind - Wagner, Vazquez, Colon, Trachsel, Williamson, and yes, Benitez. I don't care which one, but the Sox must get somebody to stabilize this staff. The offense has battled too hard, and is too good to waste.
And, a hearty "Let's Go Mets" for the last time this season.
Red Sox 3, Detroit Tigers 1
Red Sox 10, Tigers 1
Red Sox 11, Tigers 2
Red Sox 6, Tigers 4
Red Sox 25, Florida Marlins 8
Marlins 10, Red Sox 9
Red Sox 11, Marlins 7
Record: 47-33
The self-imposed hiatus is over, but it shouldn't be. This week, and Saturday's game against the Marlins in particular, has crystallized my feelings about this Sox team. The Sox have scored 75 runs in their last 7 games. 75 runs!!! Beer league softball teams don't score that often, especially ours. They have the single deepest, strongest, most versatile offense in all of baseball. This is not open to argument. They lead the major leagues in hits, runs, doubles, total bases, batting average, on-base percentage, and slugging. Their team OPS (.860) is higher than Alfonso Soriano's (.855).
They also have one of the most suspect pitching staffs in all of baseball. They led the Marlins, 9-2, in the 8th inning of Saturday's game and found a way to blow it. They have given away at least a half-dozen games in the first half of the season through poor relief pitching and bad managerial decisions, and that's probably conservative. I'm not even counting the handful of games that Derek Lowe gave away in the season's first month. This team, with this offense and average pitching could easily be 55-25. Easily.
For all my pissing and moaning, the Sox are squarely in the middle of the playoff race, leading the AL Wild Card race by 1 game over the A's. Since the Yankees are treating my friend's Metropolitans like the randy bull treated the traitor in the cow suit in Top Secret, the division deficit has grown to 3.5 games (although the 3-run shot Jeremy Burnitz just touched off is a nice start to this game). Regardless, I still believe that the Yankees aged starting pitching will catch up to them during the heat of the summer, leaving the door open. If...
...the Sox go out and get one more stud arm. Here's what I believe: if the Sox get one more above-average pitcher - either a closer or a starter (at which point Kim moves to the closer role) - they will win the American League. If they don't, they will make a run at the playoffs, but probably fall short in the most exasperating manner possible. There are a bunch of names running through my mind - Wagner, Vazquez, Colon, Trachsel, Williamson, and yes, Benitez. I don't care which one, but the Sox must get somebody to stabilize this staff. The offense has battled too hard, and is too good to waste.
And, a hearty "Let's Go Mets" for the last time this season.
Friday, June 27, 2003
Game 76 - Mets
Marlins 6, Mets 1
Record: 34-42
Dontrelle Willis dominates the Mets. See Game 68.
All I can say about my cohort's latest posting is that it once again confirms that he is the absolute best in the world at going to great lengths in the name of laziness. He'll search for 20 minutes for the remote in order to spend 15 reclined minutes flipping it; he'll spend hours trying to set up MLB webcasting on his computer at work in order to steal a few minutes watching his Sox; he'll write several paragraphs of unmitigated horsecrap trying to deflect "lazy" barbs in vain. He's a workaholic when it comes to preserving his slack-bitch lifestyle. And this is written in pure admiration.
As for his mockery of my boycott on the man whose name rhymes with "Our Condo Funny Fez," I have no comment . . . yet.
Marlins 6, Mets 1
Record: 34-42
Dontrelle Willis dominates the Mets. See Game 68.
All I can say about my cohort's latest posting is that it once again confirms that he is the absolute best in the world at going to great lengths in the name of laziness. He'll search for 20 minutes for the remote in order to spend 15 reclined minutes flipping it; he'll spend hours trying to set up MLB webcasting on his computer at work in order to steal a few minutes watching his Sox; he'll write several paragraphs of unmitigated horsecrap trying to deflect "lazy" barbs in vain. He's a workaholic when it comes to preserving his slack-bitch lifestyle. And this is written in pure admiration.
As for his mockery of my boycott on the man whose name rhymes with "Our Condo Funny Fez," I have no comment . . . yet.
On Baseball and Being a Fan
Whitney thinks my recent self-imposed moratorium on Sox-related blogging is a sign of weakness and laziness. He's wrong, of course. There are plenty of other indicators of those failings in me, but this is not one of them. Rather, this is symbolic of baseball's ability to captivate true fans, dragging them along for a season-long ride like no other sport. Allow me to explain.
I like the Washington Redskins - they're my favorite NFL team. On Sundays, I'm often a foaming, ranting lunatic in front of the television. Monday through Saturday, though, I really don't think about them all that much. I'll have a handful of conversations with friends about their prospects, and about the previous or upcoming games, but I don't obsess over their fortunes. I obsess on a daily, even hourly basis about the Red Sox. For 162 games over 7 or so months, I obsess over the Red Sox. I wonder if my viewing habits affect their chances. I try alternately to follow all their games on cbs.sportsline.com and then to not follow anything - even the ESPN ticker - until I know the games are over. I beg, plead, cajole, whine, scream, emote, and pout while watching games. This recent non-blogging is yet another in a long line of superstitious attempts to send positive mojo in the Sox' direction.
Baseball does that to me. No other sport comes close. It is a much-encompassing, engrossing pastime - one that has me in its grip so fully that I'm willing to give up something that I enjoy to participate in the Sox winning streak, even a little.
So, to my friend with the Armando Benitez complex, I submit that my non-blogging is an act of truly significant fandom - a selfless, devout act of supplication to the baseball gods. Indeed, I enjoy the blogging and its cathartic balm, so I am, in fact, causing myself pain and suffering by not being able to express my emotions over the recent uptick in the Sox' fortunes. Armando Benitez, Armando Benitez, Armando Benitez.
Whitney thinks my recent self-imposed moratorium on Sox-related blogging is a sign of weakness and laziness. He's wrong, of course. There are plenty of other indicators of those failings in me, but this is not one of them. Rather, this is symbolic of baseball's ability to captivate true fans, dragging them along for a season-long ride like no other sport. Allow me to explain.
I like the Washington Redskins - they're my favorite NFL team. On Sundays, I'm often a foaming, ranting lunatic in front of the television. Monday through Saturday, though, I really don't think about them all that much. I'll have a handful of conversations with friends about their prospects, and about the previous or upcoming games, but I don't obsess over their fortunes. I obsess on a daily, even hourly basis about the Red Sox. For 162 games over 7 or so months, I obsess over the Red Sox. I wonder if my viewing habits affect their chances. I try alternately to follow all their games on cbs.sportsline.com and then to not follow anything - even the ESPN ticker - until I know the games are over. I beg, plead, cajole, whine, scream, emote, and pout while watching games. This recent non-blogging is yet another in a long line of superstitious attempts to send positive mojo in the Sox' direction.
Baseball does that to me. No other sport comes close. It is a much-encompassing, engrossing pastime - one that has me in its grip so fully that I'm willing to give up something that I enjoy to participate in the Sox winning streak, even a little.
So, to my friend with the Armando Benitez complex, I submit that my non-blogging is an act of truly significant fandom - a selfless, devout act of supplication to the baseball gods. Indeed, I enjoy the blogging and its cathartic balm, so I am, in fact, causing myself pain and suffering by not being able to express my emotions over the recent uptick in the Sox' fortunes. Armando Benitez, Armando Benitez, Armando Benitez.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Game 75 - Mets
Mets 6, Marlins 3
Record: 34-41
Did you ever have a girlfriend who played mind games with you? If you were affectionate and doting, she'd push away, but brush her off and she was all over you? I can't stand those girls. And the New York Mets' current closer is just like that. Now, the comparison of this behemoth fireballer to any girlfriend of mine is enough to give me chills even in this sweltering D.C. heat, but this is the way he behaves. Just when you're sick of him and consider him a hopeless case, he comes rushing back with an outing like last night's (enters the 8th with no out and the bases loaded and mows down six in a row -- with 3 K's -- for a two-inning save). Just when I thought he couldn't get any worse, he does something like this . . . and totally redeems himself! No, not at all, but at least he's a little more marketable right now. Trade him. Trade him now. As Fran Healy and Ted Robinson were quick to point out, not all saves are the same. Though this was a marginally big save on the heels of the walk-a-thon last weekend, and though at times he is truly unhittable, and though he has more saves than anyone in this millennium, blah, blah, blah, not all saves are the same. You pay a closer millions of dollars really to be the go-to guy in the big save satuations, and it's there that this Mets closer is a dud. Send him to Boston today. I can't believe I'm still talking about this guy!
Speaking of Boston, the BoSox won again against the Tigers last night, enabling one lazy, lazy man to shirk his duties here. Weak.
Mets 6, Marlins 3
Record: 34-41
Did you ever have a girlfriend who played mind games with you? If you were affectionate and doting, she'd push away, but brush her off and she was all over you? I can't stand those girls. And the New York Mets' current closer is just like that. Now, the comparison of this behemoth fireballer to any girlfriend of mine is enough to give me chills even in this sweltering D.C. heat, but this is the way he behaves. Just when you're sick of him and consider him a hopeless case, he comes rushing back with an outing like last night's (enters the 8th with no out and the bases loaded and mows down six in a row -- with 3 K's -- for a two-inning save). Just when I thought he couldn't get any worse, he does something like this . . . and totally redeems himself! No, not at all, but at least he's a little more marketable right now. Trade him. Trade him now. As Fran Healy and Ted Robinson were quick to point out, not all saves are the same. Though this was a marginally big save on the heels of the walk-a-thon last weekend, and though at times he is truly unhittable, and though he has more saves than anyone in this millennium, blah, blah, blah, not all saves are the same. You pay a closer millions of dollars really to be the go-to guy in the big save satuations, and it's there that this Mets closer is a dud. Send him to Boston today. I can't believe I'm still talking about this guy!
Speaking of Boston, the BoSox won again against the Tigers last night, enabling one lazy, lazy man to shirk his duties here. Weak.
Wednesday, June 25, 2003
Game 74 - Mets
Marlins 8, Mets 4
Record: 33-41
The free-fall continues. Roger Cedeno hits a homer and steals a base (look out, he's now in the 2-2 Club), all for naught? There just isn't a lot to say right now about these Mets. The Sunday night loss still hurts, and it seems to have carried over nicely into this week, draining the remaining energy from the club. And its fans.
Today's posting features the last time I am mentioning Armando Benitez's name until he is traded. Typing his long name (even longer if I were to include the derogatory epithets I'd like to add) over and over again when he has brought so much irritation to me . . . every letter is now punched in with many more newtons of force than is good for this keyboard. So, in an effort to minimize tech support calls to this desk, if I have to refer to the lame-duck closer at all, it won't be by name.
Here's a question to ponder: which Met (or Mets . . . I'm kidding) will be chosen -- obviously not voted -- to represent the team in the 2003 All-Star Game at U.S. Cellular Field? Bonus points if you know right off what city is home to U.S. Cellular Field. On that note, a quick glimpse at the mlb.com page dedicated to the Mid-Summer Classic ballot brings a look at the header, a 1"x5" banner that boasts no fewer than four (4) corporate sponsors (U.S. Cellular, FOX Sports, Topps, and NEXL). There has to be some corporation out there willing to pay me to watch the damn game, right? Not that my baseball world is confined to my team, but despite FOX's attempt to dramatize the event ("This Year It Counts!") with all of the emotionally gripping inflection that they hype their regularly scheduled reality TV programming, I'm largely unenthused to watch a still meaningless -- especially if you're a Mets fan -- game featuring one at-bat or 2/3 of an inning of Mets representation. But at least it's fodder for discussion.
So, who should it be? Perhaps I should restructure that question: who should it be, Seo? I think Jae Seo has been one of the few semi-consistent pluses in a sea of minuses this year. Cliff Floyd probably deserves acknowledgement for his solid contributions while playing hurt. I actually can't believe, with all of the All-Star voters in the NYC area (who clearly are stuffing the ballot box with Yankee votes -- Bernie Williams is the 5th-highest AL outfielder?), that Floyd can't break into the leaderboard of 15 OF's. Ken Griffey Jr., who gets hurt every time he cleans the dirt from his spikes, is 9th-highest? The only Mets on their respective positional leader charts are Piazza (hurt since May, still out) and Alomar (crappy since last May, still crappy). Every year the All-Star voting results are a desperate cry to revoke the electoral rights from the proletariat. And again I'm on a tanget.
So, who should it be? I think, upon reflection, my point is that there really aren't any deserving Mets this season. Ty Wigginton has played much better than anyone expected, but his numbers aren't there. Floyd is really the only hitter with the stats and respect to expect inclusion. Seo has been the only regular starter with an ERA under 4.00 (his is currently 2.66), and the bullpen has been hit or miss. I think Floyd gets the nod, then bows out to rest his Achilles tendon, and Jae Seo is the New York Mets' representative at the 2003 All-Star Game.
What should Dusty Baker really do? Say F-you to everyone in New York and select their douchebag reliever who finishes games . . . sometimes, depending upon how putrid his pitching is that day.
Marlins 8, Mets 4
Record: 33-41
The free-fall continues. Roger Cedeno hits a homer and steals a base (look out, he's now in the 2-2 Club), all for naught? There just isn't a lot to say right now about these Mets. The Sunday night loss still hurts, and it seems to have carried over nicely into this week, draining the remaining energy from the club. And its fans.
Today's posting features the last time I am mentioning Armando Benitez's name until he is traded. Typing his long name (even longer if I were to include the derogatory epithets I'd like to add) over and over again when he has brought so much irritation to me . . . every letter is now punched in with many more newtons of force than is good for this keyboard. So, in an effort to minimize tech support calls to this desk, if I have to refer to the lame-duck closer at all, it won't be by name.
Here's a question to ponder: which Met (or Mets . . . I'm kidding) will be chosen -- obviously not voted -- to represent the team in the 2003 All-Star Game at U.S. Cellular Field? Bonus points if you know right off what city is home to U.S. Cellular Field. On that note, a quick glimpse at the mlb.com page dedicated to the Mid-Summer Classic ballot brings a look at the header, a 1"x5" banner that boasts no fewer than four (4) corporate sponsors (U.S. Cellular, FOX Sports, Topps, and NEXL). There has to be some corporation out there willing to pay me to watch the damn game, right? Not that my baseball world is confined to my team, but despite FOX's attempt to dramatize the event ("This Year It Counts!") with all of the emotionally gripping inflection that they hype their regularly scheduled reality TV programming, I'm largely unenthused to watch a still meaningless -- especially if you're a Mets fan -- game featuring one at-bat or 2/3 of an inning of Mets representation. But at least it's fodder for discussion.
So, who should it be? Perhaps I should restructure that question: who should it be, Seo? I think Jae Seo has been one of the few semi-consistent pluses in a sea of minuses this year. Cliff Floyd probably deserves acknowledgement for his solid contributions while playing hurt. I actually can't believe, with all of the All-Star voters in the NYC area (who clearly are stuffing the ballot box with Yankee votes -- Bernie Williams is the 5th-highest AL outfielder?), that Floyd can't break into the leaderboard of 15 OF's. Ken Griffey Jr., who gets hurt every time he cleans the dirt from his spikes, is 9th-highest? The only Mets on their respective positional leader charts are Piazza (hurt since May, still out) and Alomar (crappy since last May, still crappy). Every year the All-Star voting results are a desperate cry to revoke the electoral rights from the proletariat. And again I'm on a tanget.
So, who should it be? I think, upon reflection, my point is that there really aren't any deserving Mets this season. Ty Wigginton has played much better than anyone expected, but his numbers aren't there. Floyd is really the only hitter with the stats and respect to expect inclusion. Seo has been the only regular starter with an ERA under 4.00 (his is currently 2.66), and the bullpen has been hit or miss. I think Floyd gets the nod, then bows out to rest his Achilles tendon, and Jae Seo is the New York Mets' representative at the 2003 All-Star Game.
What should Dusty Baker really do? Say F-you to everyone in New York and select their douchebag reliever who finishes games . . . sometimes, depending upon how putrid his pitching is that day.
Monday, June 23, 2003
Game 72 & 73 - Mets
Yankees 5, Mets 0
Yankees 7, Mets 3
Record: 33-40
For the non-believers, let's all say it together: Whitney was right. Once again now: Whitney was right. Just when you, and when I say "you" I mean all of us, started to think maybe Armando Benitez had turned it around, he makes his most important appearance of the season and craps the bed. You can point to saves he made against the Braves or Phillies, but this game was huge for the Mets. To beat the Yankees, and boy was this game won, would have been important. Forget Friday's game. This was the one on national television; the Mets had clawed away at David Wells and held the Yanks' bats fairly silent, and it was time to put them away. And it never should have come to this.
Benitez did not blow the game in that "wow, they were just better than us tonight" kind of way. If he could find the plate at all, the hitters weren't doing much with the ball. But he was blatantly missing his spots on every pitch. His breaking ball didn't, and his fastball wasn't -- not that it mattered when it was a foot wide of the plate. Joe Morgan and Jon Miller analyzed to death how Benitez continue to throw outside to the lefty hitters, but it looked like utter fear. And this is what it's all about. Anyone can tell you that a significant percentage of the closer position is mental preparedness for high-pressure situations, and Benitez scores a big, fat zero in this area. He can gun a pitch 98 mph under everyday circumstances. But when the real pressure -- that big time, New York City, you'd better come through or 55,000 enraged luntics will be wanting you dead kind of pressure -- is on, he clenches up, tightens up, does something where his mechanics are thrown out of whack and he simply is not the same pitcher in these (the, uh, most mission-critical, wouldn't you say?) situations. And so, we present once again the book on Armando Benitez: 27 chapters of fluff -- page after page of meaningless statistics about meaningless saves -- and one climactic chapter where you learn everything. Judge him as a closer not on how many saves he can record; judge him on the fact that when the biggest of the big games are coming down to the wire, you want Armando Benitez three states away.
I don't know how this latest addition of evidence to the same, tired argument I have been spouting for 73 games (plus several seasons) affects his trade value. There were rumors over the weekend about the Yanks dealing for him, which has been refuted and seems to make little sense, except in the Red Sox-thwarting value. But a deal has to be made soon, if only for my own sanity. A couple of posthumous (after this game was dead and gone) quotes that have me teetering on the edge of cracking a molar whilst gnashing my teeth in frustration:
1. "I think it was a strike,'' Benitez said.
Hey, dummy, it was high and outside. And not all that close.
2. "He's our man. We're going to win it or lose it with him at that point,'' Mets manager Art Howe said.
And this assertive outlook is based on . . . ??? I don't care if Batman is on the mound -- if he walks the bases loaded on 13 pitches in the ninth inning with a one-run lead and looks absolutely horrible doing so, Commissioner Gordon at least thinks about making a move. Aren't managers there to assess the performances of their players and determine who gives the team the best chance of winning in every scenario from the first pitch until the last? Such a simplistic, blind faith credo as the one Art Howe professed comes off as a little fatalist, a little lazy, a little dodgy, and a lot foolhardy. It's an attempt at escaping culpability cloaked in a weak compliment / vote of confidence. It's not quite as cut and dried as that, Mr. Howe. He made the wrong call in the face of what was painfully obvious and now acts like it was part of a larger plan, still stuck on this looking to the future while digging himself a hole that makes the future irrelevant. Protecting Benitez's confidence, what little of it must be left, by not yanking his overgrown baby ass out of the game, is not high on the list of priorities, even with him on the trading block. Just win the damn game.
Bring back Bobby V.
Yankees 5, Mets 0
Yankees 7, Mets 3
Record: 33-40
For the non-believers, let's all say it together: Whitney was right. Once again now: Whitney was right. Just when you, and when I say "you" I mean all of us, started to think maybe Armando Benitez had turned it around, he makes his most important appearance of the season and craps the bed. You can point to saves he made against the Braves or Phillies, but this game was huge for the Mets. To beat the Yankees, and boy was this game won, would have been important. Forget Friday's game. This was the one on national television; the Mets had clawed away at David Wells and held the Yanks' bats fairly silent, and it was time to put them away. And it never should have come to this.
Benitez did not blow the game in that "wow, they were just better than us tonight" kind of way. If he could find the plate at all, the hitters weren't doing much with the ball. But he was blatantly missing his spots on every pitch. His breaking ball didn't, and his fastball wasn't -- not that it mattered when it was a foot wide of the plate. Joe Morgan and Jon Miller analyzed to death how Benitez continue to throw outside to the lefty hitters, but it looked like utter fear. And this is what it's all about. Anyone can tell you that a significant percentage of the closer position is mental preparedness for high-pressure situations, and Benitez scores a big, fat zero in this area. He can gun a pitch 98 mph under everyday circumstances. But when the real pressure -- that big time, New York City, you'd better come through or 55,000 enraged luntics will be wanting you dead kind of pressure -- is on, he clenches up, tightens up, does something where his mechanics are thrown out of whack and he simply is not the same pitcher in these (the, uh, most mission-critical, wouldn't you say?) situations. And so, we present once again the book on Armando Benitez: 27 chapters of fluff -- page after page of meaningless statistics about meaningless saves -- and one climactic chapter where you learn everything. Judge him as a closer not on how many saves he can record; judge him on the fact that when the biggest of the big games are coming down to the wire, you want Armando Benitez three states away.
I don't know how this latest addition of evidence to the same, tired argument I have been spouting for 73 games (plus several seasons) affects his trade value. There were rumors over the weekend about the Yanks dealing for him, which has been refuted and seems to make little sense, except in the Red Sox-thwarting value. But a deal has to be made soon, if only for my own sanity. A couple of posthumous (after this game was dead and gone) quotes that have me teetering on the edge of cracking a molar whilst gnashing my teeth in frustration:
1. "I think it was a strike,'' Benitez said.
Hey, dummy, it was high and outside. And not all that close.
2. "He's our man. We're going to win it or lose it with him at that point,'' Mets manager Art Howe said.
And this assertive outlook is based on . . . ??? I don't care if Batman is on the mound -- if he walks the bases loaded on 13 pitches in the ninth inning with a one-run lead and looks absolutely horrible doing so, Commissioner Gordon at least thinks about making a move. Aren't managers there to assess the performances of their players and determine who gives the team the best chance of winning in every scenario from the first pitch until the last? Such a simplistic, blind faith credo as the one Art Howe professed comes off as a little fatalist, a little lazy, a little dodgy, and a lot foolhardy. It's an attempt at escaping culpability cloaked in a weak compliment / vote of confidence. It's not quite as cut and dried as that, Mr. Howe. He made the wrong call in the face of what was painfully obvious and now acts like it was part of a larger plan, still stuck on this looking to the future while digging himself a hole that makes the future irrelevant. Protecting Benitez's confidence, what little of it must be left, by not yanking his overgrown baby ass out of the game, is not high on the list of priorities, even with him on the trading block. Just win the damn game.
Bring back Bobby V.
Games 72 & 73 - Red Sox
Philadelphia Phillies 6, Red Sox 5 (13)
Phillies 5, Red Sox 0
Record: 41-32
"That's the worst loss I've ever seen" - ESPN's Tim Kurkjian after Saturday's 6-5 Sox loss.
It's probably a good thing that I'm writing this now, after some hours of sleep and reflection, because my initial reaction to this weekend was entirely unprintable. The Sox folded three times on Saturday, blowing leads of 2-1, 3-2, and 5-3 in the 8th, 12th, and 13th innings. Sunday, when they had a chance to make a statement about their character by responding to a heartbreaking loss, they folded their tents and laid down like second-division pretenders. They should be embarrassed.
The Sox are now in third place in the AL East, 3 games behind the Yankees and 1 behind Toronto. And that, flatly, is unacceptable. They are too talented and too complete a team to be in this position. What they seem to lack is a fire in the belly, an unwillingness to break when faced with adversity. I've thought to this point that the offense had some of that grit, but even the bats have been strangely timid of late - they left runners in scoring position in 6 consecutive innings on Saturday, and then were held scoreless by Brett Myers on Sunday. It's as if the bullpen's continued unreliability has broken the team's spirit, and nobody has the personality, charisma, or just plain balls to jar this team back to life.
The Sox clubhouse is made up of a bunch of solid, earnest, hard-working professionals, but there isn't a ball-busting, rally-around-me-boys leader in sight. Nomar's a quiet guy, Manny's a savant, Pedro's a flake, Trot Nixon tries really hard, but he's too intense to be a true leader, and most damning, Grady Little is an aw-shucks, we played hard, we'll get 'em next time sort - who can't figure out how to use his bullpen.
It's come to this, because I can't stand watching this team underacheive. The Sox' next 10 games are against Detroit (4), Florida (3), and Tampa Bay (3). If the Sox don't win 8 of the 10, I will not be responsible for my actions for the rest of the season, and I will abandon any pretense of objectivity in my rabid drive to rid this team of its manager.
Philadelphia Phillies 6, Red Sox 5 (13)
Phillies 5, Red Sox 0
Record: 41-32
"That's the worst loss I've ever seen" - ESPN's Tim Kurkjian after Saturday's 6-5 Sox loss.
It's probably a good thing that I'm writing this now, after some hours of sleep and reflection, because my initial reaction to this weekend was entirely unprintable. The Sox folded three times on Saturday, blowing leads of 2-1, 3-2, and 5-3 in the 8th, 12th, and 13th innings. Sunday, when they had a chance to make a statement about their character by responding to a heartbreaking loss, they folded their tents and laid down like second-division pretenders. They should be embarrassed.
The Sox are now in third place in the AL East, 3 games behind the Yankees and 1 behind Toronto. And that, flatly, is unacceptable. They are too talented and too complete a team to be in this position. What they seem to lack is a fire in the belly, an unwillingness to break when faced with adversity. I've thought to this point that the offense had some of that grit, but even the bats have been strangely timid of late - they left runners in scoring position in 6 consecutive innings on Saturday, and then were held scoreless by Brett Myers on Sunday. It's as if the bullpen's continued unreliability has broken the team's spirit, and nobody has the personality, charisma, or just plain balls to jar this team back to life.
The Sox clubhouse is made up of a bunch of solid, earnest, hard-working professionals, but there isn't a ball-busting, rally-around-me-boys leader in sight. Nomar's a quiet guy, Manny's a savant, Pedro's a flake, Trot Nixon tries really hard, but he's too intense to be a true leader, and most damning, Grady Little is an aw-shucks, we played hard, we'll get 'em next time sort - who can't figure out how to use his bullpen.
It's come to this, because I can't stand watching this team underacheive. The Sox' next 10 games are against Detroit (4), Florida (3), and Tampa Bay (3). If the Sox don't win 8 of the 10, I will not be responsible for my actions for the rest of the season, and I will abandon any pretense of objectivity in my rabid drive to rid this team of its manager.
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