There Are No Curses*

Len and Bob

There are those who like Len and Bob, and there are those who don't.  The following is fodder for those in the latter camp, from Friday's Cubs/Brewers tilt.  Here's the scene:

Carlos Marmol comes in to finish out the seventh inning and gets Braun to fly out with the bases loaded and Prince in the on deck circle.  Cubs lead 3-2.  Fontenot leads off the eighth with a double and moves to third on a groundout.  Runner on third, one out, Koyie Hill up and the pitcher's slot on deck.  Hill steps up and Marmol steps into the on-deck circle.  Len and Bob spend the entirety of Hill's at-bat talking strategy, like should the Brewers walk Hill intentionally to get to Marmol, etc.  At one point, Len says "No matter what happens here, Lou's going to let Marmol bat."  Really?  You think so?  Because, and I may not know as much about baseball as the people PAID TO COMMENT ON GAMES, but I feel like maybe, just maybe, there's zero chance of Marmol batting, no matter what happens.  I may not be as erudite as a Len Kasper, but something tells me that with a runner in scoring position in a one-run game that Lou Piniella probably won't rely on the batting skills of a relief pitcher.  Especially if that relief pitchers throws his pitches with his right hand and the batter leading off the next inning is one of the best left-handed batters in baseball.  My guess, and, again, what do I know...but my guess is that Marmol is in the on deck circle because Piniella doesn't want to tell Ken Macha who will be batting after Hill, in case it affects how they pitch Hill.
 
Hill hit by pitch.  Marmol goes to the dugout, Miles strides to the plate.
 
"Looks like Lou's had a change of heart....."
 

Nice job analyzing the game, fellas.

The Last Hero

Being a sports fan means different things at different ages.  Players like Shawon Dunston, Andre Dawson and Ryne Sandberg were my idols.  And I mean that quite literally....I worshipped them, couldn't fathom how it was possible for mere humans to be so heroic.  It's necessarily different now.  Ryan Dempster's a guy you see at the bar, Ted Lilly lives a couple blocks away, and Carlos Zambrano gets injured because he's emailing his brother too much.  They have cool jobs, and I still love the team, but these guys aren't on Mt. Olympus like the players of the '80's.  Which brings us to Kerry Wood.

I was sixteen when Wood struck out 20 Astros, and he was twenty.  He was roughly my peer, but not really at all....I was a driving a '91 Buick Park Avenue to high school, he was putting on one of the greatest pitching performance in the history of the sport.  But he wasn't that much older than me.  I was able to hitch my transition from childhood fandom to adult fandom to his star.  And the fact that he turned out to be such an imperfect vessel (thanks, Barack) made the whole ride all the truer.

The details and disappointments of his career aren't all that important.  It's true that he never realized his potential....how many of us do?  When some players encounter injuries, they let those injuries dominate them (see Prior, Mark).  When some players sign big contracts and don't play up to that standard, they cash the checks and walk away (see Pavano, Carl).  Not only did Wood battle back time and time again, he recognized what he owed the Cubs and their fans and, for each of the last two years, took considerably less than his market value to stay in Chicago.

I don't mean to lionize the guy....we're talking about a major league pitcher after all, not a Peace Corps volunteer or soldier.  But one of the reasons that sports matter to any of us is that they serve as a microcosm of life, except with ratcheted-up drama and tidier storylines.  And in that context, Kerry Wood has served as a walking how-to guide: how to bounce back, to perservere, to do what you can with what you have, and to do it the right way.  The way that he was capable of mowing down hitters captured my childlike imagination, and the way that he comported himself earned my adult admiration.

There aren't any bad guys today.  If Wood can get four years somewhere else, he ought to do it.  With Marmol in the wings, it doesn't make sense for Jim Hendry to be the one offering those four years.  It's sad to see him go, and even sadder to reflect on what might have been.  Six weeks ago, we all dared to dream of Kerry Wood staring in, looking to close out a World Series title.  It would have been perfect.  But, as we've learned over the last eleven years, the story rarely works out as perfectly as the dream.  Thanks for the ride, Woody...I hope I'm there for the standing ovation the next time you come to Wrigley.  Just do me one favor, ok? 

Don't sign with the Cardinals.

The Plane Has Not Crashed Into the Mountain

NOTE: I'm having some formatting issues, namely that paragraph breaks aren't showing up. So, paragraphs are separated by /, which makes this look like the worst poem ever written. These are the facts, and they are undisputed: 1. Teams that win Game 1 are 23-3 in the NLDS. 2. The Cubs have never won a playoff series after losing Game 1 at home./ Now that we've got that out of the way...../ Nothing is fucked, dude. Seriously. Part of the reason that teams that win the first game have such a great record is due to one small detail: they have the better baseball team. The Cubs have the better team in this series, which is certainly no guarantor of victory but seems important to remember right now./ Off the ledge?/ There's no real need to pick apart last night's game...we know about walks and quiet bats. I'd like to make a request, though: if you were at the game last night, please avoid Wrigley for the rest of the year. That was one of the worst crowds that I can remember, from the early quiet to the palpable panic after the fifth. This was the first game of a five game series, and the crowd acted like it was the ninth inning of Game 7 in 2003. I'd also question the wisdom of booing a guy (Soriano) who has a history of emotional fragility and trying to do too much./ I believe that if this team pulls out a win tonight they'll win this series in four. In LA they won't have to deal with 42000 people holding their breath on every pitch and waiting for the other shoe to drop. We all need to recognize the irrelevance of history here. To borrow a formulation from Rick Pitino, the black cat and the billy goat ain't walking through that door. Let's get the priests out of the dugout and the chicken littles out of the stands. This is the best team any of us have ever followed, it's a five game series, and the guy taking the hill tonight threw a no-hitter a couple weeks ago./ And if they lose tonight? Someone come track me down...I'll be teetering on the nearest ledge.

See: Name of This Blog

Does Managing the Brewers Make You Stupid?

On Baseball Tonight last night, one of the talking heads said something along the lines of, "You have to give Dale Sveum a lot of credit....he's treating every game like a playoff game.  Seth McClung was his scheduled Friday starter, and Sveum didn't hesitate to bring him into the game to try to beat the Cubs."

There are a number of problems with this.  One is that Sveum is being congratulated for doing the obvious.  The Brewers have their backs up against the wall, and they need to win games.  They especially need to win games that they lead 6-2 with two outs and nobody on in the bottom of the ninth.

The bigger issue is the fact that the ESPN treated yesterday's game like it had happened in a bubble.  The night before, as I penciled in reliever after reliever, we had a running joke about Sveum apparently living out his lifelong dream of overmanaging a bullpen.   In a game that his team won 6-2 (and that's including a garbage run by the Cubs in the ninth), Sveum used EIGHT PITCHERS.  The partial explanation is that Sheets' brittle arm fell off after two innings, putting his team and manager in a desperate spot.  That's a legitimate reason to use four or five pitchers, not eight.  It's not like the Cubs were constantly rallying...look at the box score.  

So Stetter and Gagne came in to throw a combined 11 pitches, and Salomon Torres, their closer, pitched the ninth in a 6-1 game.  Eighteen hours later, he was blowing the lead in a backbreaking loss.  And Carlos Villanueva, another of the Inexplicable Eight, gave up the game-winning run. 

Welcome to managing, Dale Sveum.  Here's hoping you stick around as long as Yost did.

Zambrano-no

Well, it apparently takes something monumental to get me off my ass and writing….

 

There was something that someone I admire said recently that really rubbed me the wrong way because it reinforced old stereotypes and seemed lazy.  But I’ll address that in a moment.

 

The legend of last night's happening has just started to grow.  Years from now, there will be hundreds of thousands of people claiming that they were there when Big Z threw his no-hitter in the unlikeliest of venues.  23,441 were actually there, and I was one of them. 

 

Because I keep score, I’m always aware of possible no-hitters, and I pay attention to them far earlier than it makes any sense to.  In this case, it was clear early that Zambrano had good stuff, and I took note of the lack of baserunners as early as the third.  This is folly, of course, thinking about no-hitters and perfect games in the third inning.

 

It was also a weird crowd, fitting for a weird game.  I had the sense that it was a crowd that didn’t get to many games, but I’m not sure where that came from…maybe more families, more people from the north suburbs for whom the trip to Miller was roughly the same as a trip to Wrigley?  Whatever it was, the vibe was extremely festive, with people treating the game like the unexpected bonus that it was.  With everyone crowded into the lower bowl and the relatively few number of fans, it almost had the feel of a college basketball game, like Miller Park had morphed into Cameron Indoor, with a similarly rabid, biased crowd.

 

On that note:  no, it wasn’t fair to the Astros that the game was in Milwaukee.  Or, I should say that it wasn't fair to the Astros team.  On an organizational level, if the game had to be moved from Houston, Drayton McLane was delighted to have it played in Milwauke.  His gate receipts last night were many times what they would have been had the game been played anywhere else.  But, Cecil Cooper’s right, this was a Cubs home game.  I’m sympathetic, but I also remember the Cubs getting screwed in 2004, when rescheduling due to a hurricane caused them to have to play about a million games in September.  These things happen, and you play the game where and when you’re told.

 

So, it’s the third inning and I start thinking about it.  According to him, Zambrano was already thinking about it too.  In the fifth, I started hearing murmurs in my section.  By the end of the sixth, everyone knew.  And the last three innings were the most draining and exhilarating I’ve seen live.  Everyone knows what happened, I don’t need to break it down pitch-by pitch.  Once he got through Tejada and Berkman in the sixth, I started to believe.  Even then I looked ahead to Darin Erstad in the ninth, thinking that he’s the sort of scrappy, gritty (insert David Eckstein-like bullshit descriptions of overachieving white ballplayers here) bastard who could break it up with a ten-hopper up the middle. 

 

But he didn’t.

 

When it ended, everyone exhaled.  Not only because Z had gotten it done, but the promise of this season seemed suddenly renewed.  The Brewers had continued their choke job, the division title is in sight, and Zambrano and Harden are sparkling again.  We’re going to be ok, for a couple more weeks at least.

 

As we filed out of the park, singing, “Hey Milwaukee, whaddya say?  The Cubs are gonna win today….” I looked around.  On a day when the White Sox barely had 5,000 fans at an actual home game, over 23,000 Cub fans drove to Milwaukee less than 24 hours after the game was announced. About 70% of them stayed in the stands for twenty minutes after the game, waiting for Zambrano to finish his interviews so that they could send him off with the ovation he deserved.  And those people were rewarded with something rare and amazing and magical.  With all due respect to Sen. Obama, I’m going to disagree without being disagreeable and say that that’s baseball.

Briefly

This is a picayune point, but there was a moment in last night's game that I found befuddling, and still haven't figured out today.  The scene:  bottom of the 6th, one out, Cubs up 3-0, Ray Durham on second and Aaron Rowand down in the count 0-2.  Dempster delivers the pitch and either a) Bruce Bochy calls for a hit-and-run, or b) Rowand and Durham miss a sign in the exact same way and behave as though they are supposed to try a hit-and-run.  For the sake of this post, let's assume a).

Um, what?

An 0-2 hit-and-run is unorthodox, but not unheard of.  Durham's still a decent baserunner, you haven't gotten anything off of Dempster all night, maybe try to force the issue here.  Fine.  But the guy batting has, to this point, faced nine pitches in the game.  Eight of them have been strikes, he's struck out twice, and it's currently 0-2.  You don't have to be Steve Stone to guess that Rowand putting the ball in play anywhere is unlikely, let alone executing a ground ball to the right side.

What happens?  Rowand strikes out and Durham would have been meat at second if Soto hadn't lost his grip on the ball.  The next batter, someone named John Bowker, steps in and launches one into McCovey Cove. 

This bizarre turn of events went unnoticed by Len and Bob, who spent the inning talking about the world's largest guitar.  But Bruce Bochy should know that the author of a little-read Cubs blog saw what he did last night, and disapproved.

Crosstown Classic?

Each morning, on my way to the L, I pick up a copy of the Sun-Times because I prefer its sports section.  I generally read that section first, almost in its entirety.  I almost never listen to sports talk radio, because I don't care tha Bob Kowalski in Beverly wants the Bulls to take Kevin Love with the first pick.  Throughout the day, I monitor ESPN.com and Deadspin, and I skim the Tribune online.  I say all this to note that, for the most part, I have absolutely no idea what happens to the White Sox on a day-to-day basis.  I'm obviously aware that they're in first place, but I have no idea by how many games.  I really only know whether they win or lose every fifth day, because Gavin Floyd is on my fantasy team.  I skip stories about them not because I hate them, but because I just don't care.  And this is why their fans hate us.

The White Sox aren't a rival.  I invest more energy in games against the Brewers and Astros and Mets.  And, of course, the Cardinals.  The goddamned Cardinals.  That isn't to say that this isn't an enjoyable series, because it absolutely is, and the energy in the city is fun.  But it's a novelty, not a rivalry, at least from this end.  I know that White Sox fans feel differently, for reasons that often have nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with the sociological makeup of the city.  And I get that.  But Kenny Williams misses the mark when he says, ''The unfortunate thing for me is it's a shame that a certain segment of Chicago refused to enjoy a baseball championship being brought to their city."  I didn't enjoy it because IT'S NOT MY TEAM.  I'll admit, I didn't want the Sox to win in 2005, because then we'd be the last of the losers.  But when they did, I was happy for them, and for the South Side.  But I didn't enjoy it for the same reason I wouldn't enjoy the Bucks winning the NBA championship or the Lions winning the Super Bowl, which is that they aren't my teams. 

Before Game 1 of that World Series, one of the local stations was doing the"man on the street" interviews outside Comiskey, gauging the fan mood and whatever.  So he stops this old woman, she had to be about 85, and asks, "How does it feel to be going to a World Series game?"  The woman looked into the camera and said, "You know what the best part of this is?  The Cubs aren't here!"  That woman was clearly insane, and is the perfect embodiment of the crazed obsession that Sox fans have with the Cubs.  If the Cubs were in the World Series, it wouldn't occur to me for a second to think about how awesome it was that the Sox weren't.

On the list of important things happening today, the game is about a millionth as significant as Z's MRI.  And that's all I can say about that without becoming ill.  In any event, the Cubs need to stop their Rays-induced bleeding today, and the opponent happens to be the White Sox.  Let's hope no one gets stabbed!

Boo?

Seems like an odd time for a booing controversy, what with the team having the best record in baseball and all, but here we are.  I don't have a strict doctrine on booing the home team, so I'll haphazardlly patch together a loose one now.  Here are the booable circumstances, as I see them.

1) Lack of effort.  Not running to first, half-heartedly chasing a fly ball, etc.?  Boo at will.

2) Stupidity.  This seems to be what people are booing Soriano for.  He chases a lot of pitches and does that stupid hop when he catches (or sometimes drops) fly balls.  This is stupid.  But it's not like he's going to change or learn, or that he doesn't realize he swings at shitty pitches.  If you think you're imparting some sort of life lesson by booing, or that it's tough love, just know that there's almost certainly zero chance that it's being received that way.  In fact, the way that it's being received is, "I hate these drunk jackasses," becuase of course the player's going to rationalize his own godawful performance away.

3) Assholes.  The Todd Hundley Rule.  Boo as loudly as possible, if you are so inclined.  But don't then cheer wildly when said asshole is successful, because then you're a hypocrite.  And, the asshole knows your boos are conditional, and he will continue to treat you like shit, like a 90210 boyfriend.

4) Guys you're trying to run out of town.  See: LaTroy Hawkins.

Obviously something changed after 2003, and I don't think it's a bad thing.  We have expectations now, and they go beyond getting drunk and a sunburn.  But I thought it was interesting to watch the way the players beelined toward Soriano after he won the game last night.  Clearly this guy's not an asshole, and if you think this team sniffs a championship without Alfonso Soriano, you're an idiot.  So, for now, why don't we all recognize that it's not even June.  The Cubs have the best record in the NL and maybe we should backpocket the boos for a little while.  Except for Edmonds.  Boo that motherfucker until your throat is sore.

Hoping He Dives Headfirst Into the Wall

Really?  Jim Edmonds to the Cubs?

Really?

I hate this move on every conceivable ground.  I hate it philosophically, I hate it because it’s a downgrade, I hate it because it sets Pie’s development back.  Oh, and I hate Jim Edmonds.

I’ll start some numbers:

Player A: .178 BA, 1 HR, 6 RBI, .498 OPS

Player B: .222 BA, 1 HR, 5 RBI, .572 OPS

This isn’t neurosurgery, so you can probably figure out that Player A is Edmonds and Player B is Felix Pie, the man who will be going to the minors so that a brain dead has-been can swallow up his at-bats.  Never mind that Pie is 15 years younger and hasn’t fallen on his head umpteen times.  He’s been better!  He’s a better player right now than Edmonds, and the Cubs are going to slow his growth….for what?

   

If they were going to sign a left-handed veteran utility outfielder, I can think of a guy who just got released by the Tigers.  Last year, Mr. Jones hit .332 with 46 RBI and an OPS of .832 in the second half and helped carry these very same Cubs into the playoffs.  More on him another time, but he’s also five years younger than Edmonds and, not to put too fine a point on it…..he’s not Jim Edmonds.

Look, I’m not a child.  I’m aware this is a business, and players change teams all the time, including amongst rivals.  But this isn’t Mark Grudzielanek or Jason Marquis.  This is the poster boy for everything that’s been so deliciously loathsome about the ‘00’s Cardinals.  Pujols is awesome, and seems like a decent guy.  One can’t muster up much hate for guys like Rolen, Carpenter, or Isringhausen.  Ankiel’s drug abuse and general headcasery is good for a chuckle, but not much more.  The cult of Scrappy Eckstein was irritating, but not really his fault.  And then there was Jim Edmonds.  The guy who strutted around the bases and then acted surprised when someone drilled him.  The guy who would play too deep or too shallow just so that he could dive for a ball.  Everything about the way he played was a completely contrived act.  And on top of it all, he seems like one of the biggest assholes in baseball.

If this were five years ago, I’d still hate the guy, but I could see a rational case for acquiring him.  But his tank’s been dry for a while, and with the team playing so well I question the wisdom of this move.  It’s like topping off a sundae with a piece of dogshit.

This is John Starks on the Bulls.  Jim McMahon on the Packers.

 

Jim Edmonds on the Cubs.  Jesus.