When is the Madison Avenue-brainwashed Yankee community going to finally start getting honest with themselves? Mariano Rivera is not, I repeat, NOT the greatest closer of all time. Oh sure, he is the greatest walk in from the bullpen in the ninth at the start of theinning having a 2 or 3 run lead against Kansas City and then geeting the bottom of theirorder out 1-2-3. Can't argue with those stats. But just think of all the big games he's blown, almost too many to mention for the time I feel like dedicating to this recycled rant of mine.
The fact is that the guy is "arguably" (Michael Kay) NOT the greatest closer of all time. He can't do it for more than 3 outs, he can't protect a lead when inheriting the previous pitcher's runners, he can't hold a tie score (last night), and he can't hold a lead when there isn't a "SAVE" in it for him.
20/20 hindsight says the Yanks needed to put Jobba in the closer slot along time ago (would have saved his arm) and just save No Mo' Rivera for Kansas City. It's time for the true, baseball-intelligent Yankee fans to get intellectually honest with themselves and stop buying into Michael Kay's melodramatic proclamations about the "Greatest" Rivera. Here's a news flash for ya M.K. - 1996 to 2000 was over 8 years ago. Here's another - Mariano blew the following big games:
1997 Game 5 ALCS vs. Cleveland; 2001 Game 7 WS vs. Arizona; 2004 Game 4&5 ALCS vs. Red Sox, Game 4, three outs away from 4 game sweep and then we don't like to talk about the rest, and then after that I lost count. Not a big game closer, never was, and certainly now, at his advanced age, never will be. Just one Mo' example of people getting caught up into the phoney-baloney New York City hype.
He hails from South Carolina and he hits fastballs into the stratosphere for the Texas Rangers. But in less than one hour, Josh Hamilton, Baseball's prodigal son, accomplished something that Home Run Derby no-show/coward Alex Rodriquez can and never will do - he won over the hearts of both New York City and TV America... unanimously.
In the great Ruthian tradition, this newly annointed Sultan of Swat put on the Show of Shows in the House that Ruth built, at 'The Stadium' where Gehrig and Dimaggio clouted their share, inside The Big Ballpark in the Bronx where Mantle's prodigious blasts thrilled millions, and now in the refurbished version where Reggie and his three mighty swings renovated a once proud dynasty. Hamilton's continuous, consecutive bombardment of batting practice baseballs into the right field upper deck and the far reaches of the right centerfield bleachers put the incredulous grin of awe (better even than a Fourth of July Fireworks Finale) on 55,000 excited, lucky to be alive, ticket paying spectators.
Was A-Rod watching?
Or was he primping himself in front of the mirror readying for his late night proclivities?
And then there was Josh Hamilton's sidekick, the 71 year old Babe Ruth League batting practice pitcher complete with the southern drawl and right out of central casting. Didn't we see this guy on the big screen at the beginning of Roy Hobbs' career? 'Together, the mentor-student tandem seemed to be fresh off the set of a remake of the Bernard Malamud classic and living proof that life immitates art or maybe it has always been the other way around.
ESPN's conglommerate of commentators regurgitated the rags to riches - to sleepingunder the bridge - to recovery/redemption story line ad nauseum. But booze and street drugs will do all that to you and more and also screw up your family too. It took Josh Hamilton 8 trips to the rehabs, the miracle of divine intervention, and the total surrender to a power greater than himself to release him, a day at a time, from the ills of egocentricity and chemical bondage. Put simply, to save his life. That's the way it works.
A-Rod? Still afflicted with PMS, addicted to the lust for Power, Money, and Sex. And throw in Image or Fake Image too which is the real reason last season's MLB Home Run King refused to participate in the longball exhibition hosted by his 27 million dollar per year providing employer. How happy is 'Big' Hank Steinbrenner now?
About as happy as A-Fraud is acting 'cool' at his posh, trendy Manhattan-ite pre-All-Star Game party, playing the casual, laid back host, offering up in his mechanical-robotical style, the obligatory-PC accolades for Hamilton, all the while doing his own regurgitating because he knows down deep that this night in the Big Apple belonged in a way he will never know, to the big kid from Texas, A-Real Deal.
p.s. In front of virtually no one, Justin Morneau accepted the winner's trophy.
Young, dumb, and full of horse dung is the A-Rod we all know and love to boo. Sure, Mr. A-ROID can hit a baseball as far and as high and as deep and as often as anyone in the Game. Sure, Mr. Choke-Rod of the Post Season has been the recipient of the now miscalculated and misjudged MVP Award 3 times in the last 5 years. Even the indicted LIAR Barry Bonds accomplished something near or even better than that. So what? And no baseball fan in his right mind would even attempt to argue that A-Rod is not one of the great individual talents of all time. But he has been, is, and will most likely continue to be one of the great egotistical A-Holes of all time.
For a moment, if that's possible, let's forget his current matrimonial troubles and his corresponding late night sexcapades with none other than the lip sync-ing Material Girl/wannabe Kabala "Esther"/Children's "morality" book author, and all-around Bi-sexual Hypocrite Tramp who sacrilegiously calls herself Madonna (shame on the Media who have joyously let her get away with this all these years!). For a moment, let's take a look into his latest stand on the All-Star game Home Run Derby and why, in the final All-Star game ever to be played in the House that colossal home run inventor Ruth Built, (A-Rod's tour de force), on his home field, wearing the famed pinstripes, in the final year of Ruth's House known these days as the Old Yankee Stadium, on center stage, hometown fans,prime time, in the Media Center of the Universe, the Big Apple itself, and why he is opting out of the long ball contest.
One would or should ask: is he kidding?
'Fraid not, home run fans.
"But why?' asks the incredulous and the ignorant. "Is he injured?"
Healthy as a hunk, just ask his 49 year old "girl." The line Stray-Rod has been regurgitating has all to do with the potential of a home run derby ruining his long looping swing which will need to be perfectly tuned if his team is to somehow begin winning and squeak into this year's post season. He cites a similar dilemma a number of years ago when he was employed as a mercenary by the Rangers.
"I think that's wonderful...I mean, what other superstar would sacrifice personal accolades for the good of his team. How humble of him."
What a guy! Maybe they should give him an award for such sacrifice, or even a medal. Call it the Most Vain Primadonna award. He could be featured on the cover of the Sunday Parade Magazine along with his new woman, old Esther, that other humble humanitarian. Entitle it: "IMMATERIAL GUY & GIRLTOGETHER AT LAST.
"I like them on the cover together but don't like your title."
You being stupid, that's understandable. Excuse me, I apologize for being crass but not for being accurate. Now, let's get back to A-Rod. I want you to use that walnut of a brain that God gave you. Think of his post season chokes, his anemic batting average in the most important games of the season, his errors in the field, and his slap-happy antics running down the first base line against the Red Sox a few years ago. Think of his post game interviews when his inability to perform in the clutch so often was instrumental in his Yankee team's loss, when he was incapable of ownership to his flaws and could only muster up the overly general and non-personal phrase, "It's unfortunate" to categorize his lackluster performance.
Fortunately, many of us are not stupid. Fortunately, we are able to peer through the facade to the playing field of life, even on an overcast, foggy day. We see A-Rod for what he really is - King Baby engorged with self-centered fear. To fail to win the Home Run Derby on his home field in his hometown on so momentous an occasion and in front of his new "girl" seated in his personal Stadium seat would be scrumptious fodder for the tabloids and incredibly distasteful to his own personna. And with the overly deep Yakee Stadium left centerfield as his target opposed to the inviting short right field porch just waiting for Chad Utley's line drive stroke (not unlike Madonna in her bed counting the minutes until A-Rod's late night arrival) as a legitimate excuse to finish in second or third place easily rationalized by all concerned, Choke-Rod still opts out. He does so because he knows that his self-centered fear will, once again, get the best of him and that he could easily go out in an early round. King Baby could not stand that.
A final word to Alex: You're in the Sports Entertainment business, stupid! It's the most important date of the year for your employer. Give back to the "Game" and the fans who have given you so much. If you don't compete in the Derby, you are nothing more than an obscenely overpaid, synthetically engorged WUSS.
We hear that's how the Material Girl likes her boys.
...Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...
President's, Superstars, and Kings confuse power, privilege, and riches with the ongoing thought that they are more intelligent than you and me. Having been "annointed" by the People, the Press, and/or their Bloodline, they wear their crown of arrogance as if it were their birthright. Irrationally distorted by their pulsating Pride and limitless Ego, they insult our intelligence when their's is, at best, borderline. Enter The Rajah, The King of K's, The Royal Rocket, Roger Clemens.
Broad shouldered, thick skinned, and red necked with pecs puffed out, eyeballs protruding, and ready to rumble, he proceeded into the Congressional Hearing Room searching for the red carpet... but it was not there. Only the paparazzi-like press made him feel at home as they clicked away at their cameras and keyboards while their camcorders whirred. The King of the Mound was all set and ready to become The King of the Hill. But not so fast.
Crew-cutted, at first he seemed to be all ears. He listened for the trumpets and then for the drum roll but they too were not there. A soft haunting voice echoed from the distance: "Pride goeth before the fall." However, the King of K's could only hear the accelerated thumping of his own over anxious heart.
Sitting alert before the mike and ready for battle, he was soon to discover a different tone that emanated from most each questioner. It was a tone and content foreign and unfamiliar; especially when compared to the common, inane, rhetorical questions of the accustomed Victor's post game press conferences. With challenges to his integrity fired inside to handcuff him, hurled high and tight under his chin, and a few times rocketed directly at his head, The King of K's got a taste of his own intimidating medicine.
When it was his turn to speak, The Rajah repeatedly licked his nervous lips in search of spit. But like The Truth, it was also not there.
Even a sadder sight than this confused and dethroned royalty were the closeups of the emboldened and frothing government emisarries who pontificated and postured judgementally and self righteously. They were the self-appointed new stars of The Roger Clemens Traveling Ego Show. Their performance was anything but "Congressional," being more aptly suited for a delirious afternoon participating in the court room of Judge Judy. Their inquiry was anything but "non-partisan," split more egregiously along party lines than the Bill Clinton Impeachment Proceedings of a decade ago, that time when the Toronto Bluejays "Dr." McNamee first instructed his future employer to drop his drawers and get ready to receive his baptismal dose of the Synthetic Fountain of Youth.
Increduously almost to a man, the Republicans lined up with the King (who also is a favorite of a fellow Texan going by the name of George H. Bush), and the Democrats ran interference for McNamee the criminal. It's what Democrats do.
The King, with more holes in his story than the Pittsburgh infield, relied on one of the sporting world's most honored and time-proven strategies: the best defense is a good offense. And when that ill-advised game plan failed to impress, he played the victim. To listen to King Rajah, you would think he invented Baseball, wove the first American Flag (sorry Betsy), and was the only person in history to be raised by their well intentioned mother.
Gag. Belch. Barf. Puke.
And for this extremely bad impression of All-American Jack Armstrong toting his 7 Cy Young Awards (4 of them phony), The King of K's should get a free pass? We think not.
There does remain the possibility that Rajah the Rocket now believes his own lie. After all, like so many Presidents, Superstars, and Kings, he already believes his own press clippings. And like throwing a four seamer "up and in" followed by a nasty splitter "down and away," he's told the World (even under oath)so many times now that he's completely innocent of these pharmaceutical sins that his verbal delivery has now become almost a muscle memory - precise, unchanging, and automatic. Just slightly convincing. But not really, not really.
But still, The King of K's declares to the World: "Of course these allegations are not true...I, the Monarch of the Mound, the Rajah of the Rubber, the Ace of The Sox, The Blue Jays, The Yankees, and the Astros, I, The All-Almighty King Clemens, I, The Grand High Exalted Mystic Ruler of All Baseball Pitching-dom, I am honest to the core, I am forthright by birthright (I was raised by the only good woman in the history of the World), and I am totally, unequivocally incapable of telling a lie! " The Great I Am. "Oh... I forgot one thing...and I love Apple Pie too!"
The Waxman gavel came crashing down. After 4 plus hours of watching a "grown" man perpetuate the insulting of our intelligence, the curtain of the Congressional freak show finally, thankfully lowered. The stage emptied and the latest installment of The Roger Clemens Traveling Ego Show was officially over. The Czar of Zillions has now become nothing more than a Big Zero.
...and all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put Humpty together again...
Super Bowl Sunday. In the Southwest, the Perfectionist Patriots vs. the Giant Undertaking. For the priviledged few and the fiscally frivolous many, thousand dollar seats and thousand dollar a night hotel rooms (not even suites) is the price to be paid. For better part of the rest of us, the armchair quarterback's position in his living room immersed in fattening food, party beverages, and instant replays will just have to do.
Super Bowl Sunday. In the Northeast, a respite of unseasonal warmth and sunshine (puts a smile across Al Gore's kisser), not Arizona and not too good for the ski slopes, but we'll take it. Two days ago, an ice storm leaving this Pennsylvania outdoor world coated in crystal which this morning began to melt. Now, the only thing dropping faster than the steady snare drum-like percussion of ice falling from trees to the frozen tundra below is the American Stock Market and U.S. Dollar, crashing like cymbals with the forewarning tumult of the tympani. That should be tonight's real half-time show: Clinton-Bush and the
401-K Heartbreakers.
Inside Home Depot yesterday (Saturday!) to purchase sand and salt to make the frozen river of my driveway accessible, the only thing fewer than their supply of the stuff were customers. Between food on the table and newer, shinier, brighter, faster, flashier, bigger, betterfurnishings for the house, filling the belly wins every time. Beyond basic sustenance, Americans love to eat, and many in excess. Sadly, it's one of the last true freedoms we still enjoy and also untaxed when procured from the market. But if the Marxist Law Firm of Hillary, Obama, Pelosi, and Reid come into complete power, next year's snack choices will be relegated to tidbits of tofu on wafers of watercress. And taxed!
Recently, in an effort to make everyone who eats at the U.S. House of Representatives' cafeteria healthy and 'perfect', the 'Control Freak & Grand High Exalted Mystic Dietician of the House,' Ms. Nancy, didn't devise espionage tactics like Tricky #### and/or Bill Belichick, but nevertheless, did rid the menu of red meat and ruffles (have ridges), replacing them with sushi and seaweed. Get the picture? She's the leader of the Pack...brrrrmmm, brrrrmmm, brrrrmmmm...
Iraq, Iran, and the destruction of Roger Clemens...$3.00 gas, Romney-McCain-Obama and/or Clinton each promising the moon to take the place of the horse's ####...global warming, nuclear warning, ballistic missiles, and Pelosi's worried about a little gristle, go figure...recession, depression, inflation, stagflation...terrorists, aliens, bombs, and bacteria...and, of course, MORE...
So what's a pure-blooded All-American fan to do?
Look to the facts my friends. Look to the impartial, globally-minded economists for the answers and not the impotent, self-serving government. Nothing from nothing is nothing. Look to logic and not to the Fed. Look in the face of reality and not far away in the distance at the multi-millionaires manipulating the public for their cherished throne. Look into the mirror (you ain't the perfect machine called Tom Brady) and then look a little closer into yourself. Dig down deeper than the Giant Undertaking will have to tonight. Make adjustments, quicker and more decisiive than the New York defense will need to tonight. Create an offense for self-preservation with the skill of Coach "Bill" but without the deceipt. Rely on no one but yourself and independence seeking like-minded souls. Only then will we become real Giants and true Patriots.
Until then, and despite Nancy Pelosi, tonight in your living rooms and your reserved seats, eat, drink, and be merry.
I haven't posted anything in quite a while. Life can do that to a blogger. Death can too - of friends and family and GI's and children and pets and all of that depressing #### can get a man down. It happened to me. Nothing seems worthwhile, not even the blog. In fact, writing about multi-millionaire union members (incredibly, that's what baseball players are) and the child's game they are paid those mega bucks to play, seems a little stupid like, say, talking to yourself in the mirror. So who's listening?
So it's the therapy of trying to put some sense to the nonsensical, some logic to the illogical, and some soul to the superficial that propels me at this very second to hunt and peck the keyboard with my two middle fingers. Do you think there's a little symbolism there?
In case anyone in the black hole of the baseball Blogosphere is interested, here's a few random items which have been on my mind lately.
(1) How does Joe Torre continue to get a pass from the once serious scrutiny of the New York baseball writers? He knows as much about preserving team chemistry as Bud Selig knows about preserving the integrity of the game. Latest example: Yanks have recently (before being rocked in Colorado) jelled as a team with Miguel Cairo playing stellar defense at first, hitting sac flies, laying down sac bunts, stealing bases, etc., etc. You know - baseball. So what does Torre and the Cash-man do? They bring up the feeble hitting (in majors...once whiffed 5 consecutive times in one game, the Platinum Sombrero) Andy Phillips and then start him over the contact-hitting Cairo. Hey Joe, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. The man has got to go, hopefully by the All-Star break. Let Donnie Baseball take the reigns for the rest of the season.
(2) Speaking of the Yankees and also the YES network, how does the recently departed Clete (short for Cletus) Boyer not get a Yankee-ography? The man played one of the greatest hot corners in MLB history. In the day, he was known, aptly, as The Magnet and was overshadowed by Brooks Robinson(The VaccuumCleaner) mainly because of the Oriole's superior bat. But lest we forget that Boyer played half his games in the unfriendly (to righties) Yankee Stadium with the real Death Valley of 402' to straight away left, 457' to leftcenter, 461' to center and 407' to right center. Like Elston Howard, Joe D., and The Mick batting from the right side (among others), Clete hit countless 420 foot outs, balls that would have easily cleared Wrigley Field's left field bleachers and crashed into the street below. Something for the Sammy Sosa and Ernie Banks fans to think about. If you doubt Boyer's superb defensive ability, go get yourself a copy of the 1961 World Series film and see for yourself the incredible diving plays he made and then throwing runners out from his knees. There was none finer at coming in on the bunt, scooping the ball up into the bare hand and throwing across his body on the run to nab the batter by a half a step. Boyer was so skilled defensively, that he was often used at shortstop when Tony Kubek was injured. The man was instrumental in the Yankees' pennants of 1960 thru 1964. Gil McDougald and Hank Bauer are others who don't get their due and deserve Yankee-ographies. Their consistent play and World Series' clutch performances are legendary among those of us old enough to remember. Certainly, the producers of YES could do a real tribute to Clete instead of the stupid show with the diehard weirdo Yankee fans participating in the ridiculous antics of the season long road trip. Certainly.
(3) Sosa on # 600. A joke, a farce, and another black mark on MLB. Bud Selig should be instantly retired to that great used car salesmen's lot in the sky. An utter mockery to the likes of Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, Frank Robinson, Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle,Jimmy Foxx, etc. But not, of course, Barry Bonds, his brother in sin. Someone ought to check Bud's head for cork.
(4) It is time for Tim McCarver to pack up his millions, his pathetic attempts at being witty, his whiny voice, and his hatred of the American League and especially the Yankees, and ,as Thurman Munson would tell complaining teammates, "RETIRE!" Maybe Joe Buck too.
(5) John Miller on this past Sunday Night's Yankees-Mets game referred to Derek Jeter's slick fielding of a slow roller to short as "Reyes-like!" Who comes in on a slow groundball better than Jeter?! Hey John, listen up: that would be like saying an A-Rod home run was David Wright-like. ####.
(6) If Yanks come back to make it to the post season, based upon YTD, Jorge Posada has to be their MVP. Don't challenge me on this. Just look to history and consider MVP's Berra,Campanella, Elston Howard, Bench, etc. and the role of this position.
(7) George Steinbrenner and the Yankee organization should publicly apologize to every baseball fan for the scheduled razing of Yankee Stadium, the Grand Cathedral of Baseball. If he was the King of England, would he raze the old and then build The New WestminsterAbbey? The Stadium is hallowed ground. Steinbrenner destroyed its beauty by his 1973 rennovation which eliminated the Big Ballpark's signature decorative facade/frieze and in succeeding years moved the fences in 3 times, at least. Yeah, yeah, I've heard all the great things about The Boss and how he restored the winning tradition to the CBS owned failing venture. And it is no great secret that he has an entreprenurial gift and developed the Yankees into the most profitable professional sports franchise. I get it. But does the guy have to destroy the one common link of generation to generation of pinstripe fan - The Stadium? This would not happen in Boston with Fenway or in Chicago with Wrigley. They understand what they are selling. George does not. Yankee fans, you have a season and a half to say goodbye to an old friend you will never see again. And just think of this: The Boston Celtics have won absolutely nothing since moving from Boston Garden. Nothing.
(8) Tomorrow afternoon's theme song is the Mighty Mouse tune: Here he comes to save theday, The Rocket-Man is on his way...prediction: Clemens gets Rocked in Colorado. With a pro rata 28 mil in the Rocket's pocket, the price of a beer and a dog at The Stadium must be hitting double figures by now.
That's it for tonight. As you can tell, I'm not very good with CHANGE unless, of course, change is logical and for the common good and not the elitist few. But I will not change my mind on one thing Yankee fans - that for the good of the team, the Godfather of the Bronx by way of Brooklyn, your Slow Joe Torre...must definitely go. (see old post of mine entitled, "Torre can't win the close ones.")
p.s. Q: Does anyone know what two different numbers Clete Boyer wore?
Q: What do Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, and Rosie O'Donnell have in common?
A: All 3 have used artificial means to enhance their manhood.
McGwire - Should consider himself lucky to have even been on the HOF ballot. Easy prediction: As more and more info on MLB steroid and human growth hormone use leaks to the media, his once inflated popularity will completely fizzel out. And eventually he will be forgotten. People generally like to remember positive stuff. I do hope he makes peace with himself and also his son.
Bonds - Oh Barry, Barry, Barry, Barry...you really do need some help. What's next... speedballs? Tell ya what. Come clean with the whole deal, accept your punishment whatever it will be, donate half your money to charity, maybe more, get into treatment, spill your guts, rebuild your life on moral grounds, and then it will not matter (to anyone else but most importantly to you) whether you break Hank's record or whether you even get into the Hall. You'll have the greatest prize of all...a true you. And the world will have an honest Barry because The TRUTH sets you free. Easy prediction: Never happen.
Rosie - we liked you at the hot corner in A League of Their Own. It's been down hill ever since. You talk too much. 99% of the time, you sound stupider than A-Rod. That's not good. However we did like the comb over impression. What amazes us is that you actually have a large fan base. I bet they would vote for McGwire and also defend Barry. By the way, how's that gun control program of yours coming along these days? Still own that pistol, do ya?
Speaking of gunfire, did anyone else catch the line about A-Rod from the cabbie toward the end of the new flick, A Night at the Museum? Would love to know who was responsible for getting in that shot on A-Fraud. The man of mega-millions just gets no respect. It's a beautiful ding!
Now there's a word that will never be used to describe a closeup of Randy Johnson. Finally, he has departed. The Big Unit was, essentially, castrated by American League - New York City baseball. Now The Big Eunuch returns to the weaker hitting National League and the protection afforded by the pitcher batting. Easy Prediction: Johnson blows away Senior Circuit hitters again.
Sincere prayers for Bobby Murcer. A true Yankee, a class guy. We can still recall his rookie season playing shortstop.
Johnny Damon, CF – A good season past. Dispelled Samson theory – hair/beard loss had no effect on Bronx performance. Prediction: short porch in right will up his dinger total to around 30 in ’07. Also, a little too happy during Detroit catastrophe. Says all the right things.
Derek Jeter, SS – Unquestionably his greatest all-around season. What didn’t he do? And out of the number 2 hole! The Yankee Captain was dissed by many of the New York andSteinbrenner hatingbaseball writers when they awarded the MVP to Justin Morneau. (see my post, “Just In…Jeter Out”) But Baseball Digest (published in Evanston, Illinois) got it right when they named ‘Jeets’ as their Major League Player of the Year. Jeter is a clinic on how to play short (make the jump throw from deep in the hole, come in on a slow roller, go back for an over the shoulder catch on a short fly, etc.), run the bases (intelligently and gazelle-like), bunt, and hit to the right side. With bursts of power and clutch performances, enjoy watching this future Hall of Famer now because he is very special and the spectacle won’t last forever.
Bobby Abreu, RF – Nice finish with Yanks for ’06. Jury is still out regarding season long performance. A little too happy and complacent during the Tiger blowout. Maybe Phillies had it right? We shall see…
Hideki Matsui, LF/DH– Once again demonstrated that he is a true professional with both humble post-injury attitude and timely hitting in last month of competition. Should have been DH’d by Torre in post season to let the new, young, competitive Melky Cabrera continue to produce as he had in the regular season. Look for a decrease in games starting in left field in ’07.
Jorge Posada, C – like Yogi Berra, Elston Howard, and Thurman Munson before him, the true backbone of the team. Clutch. When he’s in the lineup, I would never bat him lower than 6th. Did a better job at the cleanup spot than A-Rod which is not that surprising. A great all-around catcher: handling pitchers, throwing out runners, etc. Thank you Tony Pena. Posada is a true Yankee.
Robinson Cano,2B – Almost won the batting title which he should do this year as long as he stays healthy. Jeter will hit .320 and Mauer, who knows the second time around the league? Let’s hope that Robby can shake off the stigma of Torre batting him in the 9th spot during the playoffs – now wasn’t that a brilliant idea to bolster a young player’s confidence?
Jason Giambi, 1B/DH – needs to play everyday at first base despite limited range. Can scoop balls out of the dirt with the best of them. Hits better when playing in the field. Too much emphasis on defensive liability. Is he any less capable than Moose Skowron, Harmon Killebrew, Boog Powell, Pete Rose, etc., etc., etc.? Power hitting streaks raise questions about continued steroid use.
Alex Rodriquez, 3B – Lived up to his recent fan nicknames of K-Rod, A-Clod, E-Rod, and A-Fraud and we know there are more. Add A-Roid if the 100 names are ever divulged. A-Rod is the person who hasn’t got a clue that the romance is over and keeps making the phone calls and ringing the door bell…but nobody answers. His Big Apple love affair is history. Yankee fans only got the worm. When he finally rides off into the sunset, hopefully back to Texas or Seattle, the Yanks should retire his number to the rag pile so that #13 is never seen again. The ultimate Choke Artist…and for 25 mil per annum!
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Melky Cabrera, LF, etc. – outstanding rookie performance including going deep into the pitch count, slashing the outside pitch the other way, covering Death Valley as well as anyone since Ricky Henderson, maybe better, can steal a base, and is a serious threat to throw out a runner taking the extra base. A powerful arm. Can play all 3 outfield positions. Yanks out of their mind if they use this guy as trade bait for pitching woes.
Gary Sheffield, Gone - but not (or never to be) forgotten. We will miss the savage swing and cannon shots to left, foul balls included (did he once take someone’s head off?) but the Bombers will not miss the anger and the Reggie-like attitude in the clubhouse. Reunited with Leland and Dombrowski, he might very well avenge his pinstripe exit by late season damage against lackluster Yank pitching.
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL BASEBALL BLOGGERS, PAST & PRESENT
What?!!! What?!!! Justin Morneau?!! They must be kidding. Have the majority of the so-called ‘baseball writers’ completely lost their minds? Or should we be asking, were they of sound mind to begin with? The only explanation for this highway robbery of the MVP is that the non-Jeter voters are morons, idiots, imbeciles, maybe even lunatics. Choose one. Most likely they all apply. Oh, and one more…envious. Envious of all that he has and all that he is which, in baseball terms, is just about the most completely skilled and clutch performing shortstop of our time. Shame on you who did not vote for this man in this, his greatest year. Can you read? Do you own a TV? Do you live in a cave?
So let me get this straight. Derek Jeter misses winning the batting title by a bloop and a dribbler. This, despite batting from the right side 2 feet farther from first base than it will ever be for Mauer or Cano. This, despite having about a billion more plate appearances for the season than Mauer or Cano. And this despite batting in the #2 hole where his mission was so often only to move Johnny Damon another 90 feet to third…by a bunt or a slicing groundball to the right side Oh, and one more ‘despite.’ Jeter played half his games under the microscope and inside the pressure cooker called Yankee Stadium/New York City.
And Morneau? A simple equation will do: good hitter + artificial surface + high school outfield dimensions = very good offensive season. Give him the Central Division Co-Slugger of the Year Award with Jerome Dye. End of story. We wish.
To continue. I now ask any and all esoteric baseball statistics geeks and nerds to rally ‘round and supply the necessary computation to prove my point. I would try to do it but, I must admit, I am not up to the task.
Here it is. First, add up the obvious - Jeter’s runs scored and rbi’s. Then dissect the season’s box scores and come up with his run/game saving fielding plays, the times he kept a 2 out rally going which eventually scored a run, the times he successfully gave up his at bat to move a runner over, his go-ahead hits, his game tying hits, his game winning hits and his timely stolen bases (now, exactly how many times was he caught stealing this year?). Are you with me so far? Good. Then take into account how he almost single handedly carried the team for the first half of the year with Matsui and Sheffield the newest members of the broken wrist club, and how as Yankee Captain, he often played hurt, bruised, and injured. How he set the example for the likes of Andy Phillips, Melky Cabrera, Nick Green and Sal Fasano (not exactly 200 million dollar payroll names) who so often came through in a regular season which tied the inferior National League Mets for the best record in baseball. Now throw into the mix, the over-all sub-par Yankee pitching, playing short next to anyone of 4 or 5 different second sackers, and being subjected daily to the doom and gloom of the “Poor Me” A-Rod Traveling Choke ArtistShow.
Got all that? There might be even more. If you think of anything else such as ‘Jeets’ being the poster boy for all the Yankee-hating fans, media, and opposing 95 mph hurling chin-musicians, then throw those into the mix too.
Now, when all this is compiled and Jeter’s stellar blue collar performance is put up against Morneau’s politically correct spring, summer, and fall in the Make Believe World of Minneapolis & St. Paul, take a quick trip up to The Mistake in theLand of Lakes, that ballpark wannabe, and tear apart a piece of the right field ‘wall.’ Then take a few steps back and a deep breath in and use the trash bag liner for what it was intended – a receptacle for the secret ballots of the non-Jeter for MVP voting baseball ‘writers.’ You know, garbage.
Tigers - Cards, 2006. 38 years ago we first watched them in a 7 act baseball drama as the Motown Nine came back from a 3-1 deficit and surprised the Redbirds as well as most of the sporting world. Images: Tiger centerfielder Mickey Stanley playing shortstop...31 game winner Denny McClain looking more like the lifetime loser he became...and Mickey Lolich!...Big Bad Bob Gibson dominating...golden glove Curt Flood misplaying the long drive to center...who hit that, was it the Gray Fox Jim Northrup?...Tiger Stadium...and Mickey Lolich!...and Mickey Lolich again!
And now we have Leyland vs. La Russo. Tonight the Tigers were waiting to win...beating up on the Yankees and then the A's and finishing the execution with the Ordonez walk off home run can be intoxicating, so much that it can put you right to sleep. Verlander put his faith in his press clippings instead of putting his fastball in the ear of Scott Rowland and Albert Pujols. When the fumbling Inge uncorked his wild throw toward Pudge at the plate, he looked more like the playwright and less like Aurelio Rodriquez or George Kell. As soon as he let it go he said to himself, "COME BACK LITTLE SHEBA" and when he impersonated a roadblock for Rowland running toward home, he thought, "this ain't no PICNIC." If he doesn't get his act together, he'll be standing at the BUS STOP with a one way ticket to THE DARK AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS. If you don't know who I'm speaking of , well, then I guess I'm older than I care to admit.
But being a Yankee fan and also a Met fan hater (although I did feel bad for Willie Randolph), now I can only hear the soulful voice of B.B. King wailing away in the background of my subconscious that, for this baseball season, "The Thrill Is Gone."
But not all is lost. There is some amusement. The Cards doubleplay combo looks a little like a circus act - at 5'7'', Little Eckstein is this age's Freddy Patek or Phil Rizzuto. How can you not root for him - he is Everyman. And The Bulging Belly-iard traded in his signature dread locks/braids for his new Annette Funicello look and has also easily surpassed Maglio Ordonez, Eric Byrnes, and Manny Ramirez for most ridiculous 'do of the season. With a little more volume he might take first prize in the Oscar Gamble look a like contest. But the man can play. How beautiful was that push bunt past the pitcher for the game tying, safety squeeze against the Mets in Game 7?
And what happened to our National Anthem? Bob Seeger at his one man band keyboard straining through "America the Beautiful? No wonder the Tigers never got started; they were still waiting to hear the Star Spangled Banner. Where's Aretha when you need her?
And please, Fox Sports, spare us the closeups. Instead of a full view of the field where a fan might actually see a play develop (fielders backing up, hitting the cutoff man, etc.), we are mistreated to dental exams, nose hairs, pimples, blemishes, and other assorted skin growths,chewing tobacco rolling around the palate, resting on the lips, falling out of the mouth, and dribbling down the chin, the saliva soaked shells of sunflower seeds expectorated in mass profusion, and spitting and spitting and more spitting. MLB players are, no doubt, the world's greatest spitters, bar none. There's an idea for a blog, "Greatest Spitting Techniques/Moments of Major league Baseball."
Well it's time to retire...from this and also to bed. When I say my prayers tonight, I can assure you that I will not be thanking The Almighty for an opposite field home run. I will save that for Albert Pujols as he looks and points up to the heavens as he crosses home plate. Here's a news flash for you Albert: God's got a few more important things on His agenda than the World Series and your professional athletic performance.
It is not too late for you to change your mind regarding the future of Mr. Joe Torre. Please just consider me as the Voice of Truth and the Writer of Reason, the Messenger of vital information which was not conveyed to you by your cabinet of "experts," including that proven procurer of high priced, worn out, lackadaisical mercenaries, Mr. Brian Cashman. George, you should have trusted your gut and honored your first instincts. You should have sent your dull, unimaginative, complacent and spineless field manager packing and on his way to his South Pacific paradise retreat complete with his valise stuffed full of the 7 mil you still owe him. Because George, by not ending the Reign of Torre, your parade will be rained on once again next year. And, of course George, by exiting the post season so early, you will once again lose alot more than 7 million not to mention more of your New York Metropolitan Area market share thanks to your former underappreciated employee, Willie Randolph and his upstart Mets.
George, I've broken it all down into some catchy sub-headings. Easier to remember that way. Consider these points:
THE ARROGANCE OF ASSUMING - The Torre "led" Yankees assumed they would beat the slumping Tigers, just by showing up; especially after the game #1 dominance. After all, how many "name" players did Detroit boast on its 65 million dollar payroll? Pride goeth before the fall. The over-riding complacent and cocky attitude trickled down from the top. Water does not run uphill.
NO GUTS, NO GLORY or IF IT A'INT BROKE, DON'T FIX IT - In a season challenged by the injuries to Matsui and Sheffield and marred again by marginal and inconsistent pitching, Torre did an admirable job of transitioning the Yankee home run derby mentality to the more practical and proven mindset of incorporating strategies that "manufactured" runs. This was done with bits and pieces of small ball, courtesy of Damon, Jeter, Bernie, Cano, and the surprise of the year, Melky Cabrera. At times, this Yankee team reminded one of Torre's World Series Championship teams ('96, '98, '99, '00) slashing basehits and two baggers down the lines and into the gaps. And they did this despite the A-Rod melodrama. It became a winning strategy as the team finished tied with the Mets for the best record in baseball. But then Godzilla returned. And then Sheff. And they wanted to play. They wanted desperately to be part of this great thing that Torre and Co. had going, the victory machine that ran right over the Red Sox 5 straight times in August. Immediately, Matsui demonstrated the swing and the results of that swing that had made him famous. His performance in the final 2 weeks of the season proved that he belonged in the ALDS lineup. But in left field? George, you had Melky out there - stealing home run balls from over the fence, making diving catches, covering the deep terrain of left field better than anyone since Rickey Henderson, and with the best arm this side of Bobby Abreu, throwing out runners like an expert marksman at target practice in a penny arcade. So Torre, in his infinite wisdom, benched Melky, who contributed more to the team's success than A-Rod's 'after the fact stats' and put the still healing Hideki back in left. DH wouldn't have worked? A week later, Torre surpassed his own level of stupidity by promoting the 'great instant first-baseman experiment' with Gary Sheffield...not in Spring Training mind you but in the ALDS. But why? The answer is a simple one. Joe Torre doesn't have the guts to make the tough decision, to tell the millionaire cry babies and bullies and prima donnas that "you're on the bench, I have my starting lineup...I already have the lineup that wins games." Joe Torre cowers to Murderers' Row because he wants to be their friend or their father or their big brother or maybe their counselor. George, this man is in the wrong business. I thought this was about winning baseball games. Joe Torre should do those benevolent things on his own time. His lack of backbone has cost you many, many millions, and along with the millions of Yankee fans, has caused us all to go through a very difficult winter.
SAME BOARD, DIFFERENT GAME or A MAN SHOULD KNOW HIS LIMITATIONS - While Jim Leyland played chess like a grandmaster, Joe Torre dozed off next to the pot bellied stove while playing checkers.
Example #1: Leland coins the phrase for the media sound bite: "Murderer's Row and Cano." It's all we heard. It's all the Yankees heard. Obviously, they began to believe in their press clippings. While the Yankees were strutting around in front of mirrors, Leyland was pumping positive thinking into the impressionable minds of his young Tigers.
Example #2: Leland exploited the erratic throwing arm of Jason Giambi by having the speedy Granderson purposely get picked off first base. This was done twice. Both times the runner was safe via the wild throw by Giambi although the second time the umpire blew the call.
Example# 3: Game #2, bottom of the 8th, Matsui on second, no outs, Yanks down by a run, Posada up. This was the turning point of the ALDS. It is common baseball thinking that you play for the tie at home and the win on the road. Inotherwords, being guaranteed last licks, if you can tie the game at home, it can then be won in the bottom half of the inning. The situation called for a sacrifice bunt. With Matsui then on 3rd and only one out, a groundball or a flyball could have tied the score. Posada swings away. Honestly, I don't recall if he popped out or K'd but the fact is that he, or a pinch hitter should have layed one down. Miguel Cairo, after Jeter, the best bunter on the team just sat on the bench collecting dust. And then the Yankees became dust. (with sincere apologies and sympathy to Cory Lidle's family and friends). Game 2 was winnable and if the Yankees then went to Motown up 2- zip, it is doubtful the Tiger cubs would have come back.
MURDERED ROW AND 'DIS'-SPLACED CANO - I will make this as quick as a New York minute. Joe Torre pushed Robinson Cano into an emotional ditch called "batting ninth!" The young man was the hottest and most productive hitter in the American league for the final 2 months of the season, barely missed winning the batting title (.342!!!), and is among the best place hitters in all of baseball. He is young, enthusiastic, and impressionable. All season he batted no lower than 7th but usually 6th. For all of Cano's success, Joe Torre rewarded him with hitting in the 9 hole. It was not only demoralizing to the All-Star second baseman, it was also stupid baseball. Oh yeah, Cano bombed out in the ALDS.
TOO MANY CHIEFS, NOT ENOUGH INDIANS - With regard to his coaching staff, Torre has surrounded himself with former major league managers, all-stars, and yes-men. With the mixed messages from all these egos colliding with the egos and juvenile temperaments of many of the players, it is no wonder the clubhouse is divided and the ship is adrift. Torre lacks the core confidence to be his own man and lead effectively.
PLANNING FOR THE GAME THAT WILL NEVER COME - With the entire season on the line (Game #4 in Detroit), Torre's best thinking was to have this year's ace of the staff, Wang resting in New York for the mythicalGame # 5. After the Game 3 loss, Torre was asked if he would be flying Wang out to the Motor City to save the day. Old Slow Joe's response had something to do with not wanting to risk injury to Wang's youthful arm and his potentially lucrative baseball future. Wang had 3 day's rest! The Hall of Fame is overflowing with pitchers who made a career on 3 days rest and less. So this field general of the most lucrative sports franchise in the world didn't think that Wang could give the Yanks 5 or 6 solid innings to keep his team in contention, to increase the possibility of returning to New York for the actualgame 5? This blunder of thinking is exactly why the Yankees lost to the Red Sox in 2004. Replay the tapes and you will see how Torre, by "waiting to win," and thinking that with a 3-0 series lead there is always tomorrow, was the real culprit of the great Yankee collapse/Red Sox comeback of the ages. In 2004, Torre's Game 7 choice for a starting pitcher was Kevin Brown. In 2006, his pivotal Game 4's choice was Jared Wright. Two formerly overpowering pitchers trying desperately to hang on. This is a game plan? Rotating 4 or 5 relievers over 9 innings would give you a better shot. Replay the tapes from 2004 and you will see.
SUMMATION: INSANITY IS REPEATING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND EXPECTING DIFFERENT RESULTS - Joe Torre is a lame duck manager. He has been unsuccessful at bringing home the gold since the year 2000. Except for Derek Jeter, does anyone really believe things will be any different in 2007?
It is not too late for you to change your mind regarding the future of Mr. Joe Torre. Please just consider me as the Voice of Truth and the Writer of Reason, the Messenger of vital information which was not conveyed to you by your cabinet of "experts," including that proven procurer of high priced, worn out, lackadaisical mercenaries, Mr. Brian Cashman. George, you should have trusted your gut and honored your first instincts. You should have sent your dull, unimaginative, complacent and spineless field manager packing and on his way to his South Pacific paradise retreat complete with his valise stuffed full of the 7 mil you still owe him. Because George, by not ending the Reign of Torre, your parade will be rained on once again next year. And, of course George, by exiting the post season so early, you will once again lose alot more than 7 million not to mention more of your New York Metropolitan Area market share thanks to your former underappreciated employee, Willie Randolph and his upstart Mets.
George, I've broken it all down into some catchy sub-headings. Easier to remember that way. Consider these points:
THE ARROGANCE OF ASSUMING - The Torre "led" Yankees assumed they would beat the slumping Tigers, just by showing up; especially after the game #1 dominance. After all, how many "name" players did Detroit boast on its 65 million dollar payroll? Pride goeth before the fall. The over-riding complacent and cocky attitude trickled down from the top. Water does not run uphill.
NO GUTS, NO GLORY or IF IT A'INT BROKE, DON'T FIX IT - In a season challenged by the injuries to Matsui and Sheffield and marred again by marginal and inconsistent pitching, Torre did an admirable job of transitioning the Yankee home run derby mentality to the more practical and proven mindset of incorporating strategies that "manufactured" runs. This was done with bits and pieces of small ball, courtesy of Damon, Jeter, Bernie, Cano, and the surprise of the year, Melky Cabrera. At times, this Yankee team reminded one of Torre's World Series Championship teams ('96, '98, '99, '00) slashing basehits and two baggers down the lines and into the gaps. And they did this despite the A-Rod melodrama. It became a winning strategy as the team finished tied with the Mets for the best record in baseball. But then Godzilla returned. And then Sheff. And they wanted to play. They wanted desperately to be part of this great thing that Torre and Co. had going, the victory machine that ran right over the Red Sox 5 straight times in August. Immediately, Matsui demonstrated the swing and the results of that swing that had made him famous. His performance in the final 2 weeks of the season proved that he belonged in the ALDS lineup. But in left field? George, you had Melky out there - stealing home run balls from over the fence, making diving catches, covering the deep terrain of left field better than anyone since Rickey Henderson, and with the best arm this side of Bobby Abreu, throwing out runners like an expert marksman at target practice in a penny arcade. So Torre, in his infinite wisdom, benched Melky, who contributed more to the team's success than A-Rod's 'after the fact stats' and put the still healing Hideki back in left. DH wouldn't have worked? A week later, Torre surpassed his own level of stupidity by promoting the 'great instant first-baseman experiment' with Gary Sheffield...not in Spring Training mind you but in the ALDS. But why? The answer is a simple one. Joe Torre doesn't have the guts to make the tough decision, to tell the millionaire cry babies and bullies and prima donnas that "you're on the bench, I have my starting lineup...I already have the lineup that wins games." Joe Torre cowers to Murderers' Row because he wants to be their friend or their father or their big brother or maybe their counselor. George, this man is in the wrong business. I thought this was about winning baseball games. Joe Torre should do those benevolent things on his own time. His lack of backbone has cost you many, many millions, and along with the millions of Yankee fans, has caused us all to go through a very difficult winter.
SAME BOARD, DIFFERENT GAME or A MAN SHOULD KNOW HIS LIMITATIONS - While Jim Leyland played chess like a grandmaster, Joe Torre dozed off next to the pot bellied stove while playing checkers.
Example #1: Leland coins the phrase for the media sound bite: "Murderer's Row and Cano." It's all we heard. It's all the Yankees heard. Obviously, they began to believe in their press clippings. While the Yankees were strutting around in front of mirrors, Leyland was pumping positive thinking into the impressionable minds of his young Tigers.
Example #2: Leland exploited the erratic throwing arm of Jason Giambi by having the speedy Granderson purposely get picked off first base. This was done twice. Both times the runner was safe via the wild throw by Giambi although the second time the umpire blew the call.
Example# 3: Game #2, bottom of the 8th, Matsui on second, no outs, Yanks down by a run, Posada up. This was the turning point of the ALDS. It is common baseball thinking that you play for the tie at home and the win on the road. Inotherwords, being guaranteed last licks, if you can tie the game at home, it can then be won in the bottom half of the inning. The situation called for a sacrifice bunt. With Matsui then on 3rd and only one out, a groundball or a flyball could have tied the score. Posada swings away. Honestly, I don't recall if he popped out or K'd but the fact is that he, or a pinch hitter should have layed one down. Miguel Cairo, after Jeter, the best bunter on the team just sat on the bench collecting dust. And then the Yankees became dust. (with sincere apologies and sympathy to Cory Lidle's family and friends). Game 2 was winnable and if the Yankees then went to Motown up 2- zip, it is doubtful the Tiger cubs would have come back.
MURDERED ROW AND 'DIS'-SPLACED CANO - I will make this as quick as a New York minute. Joe Torre pushed Robinson Cano into an emotional ditch called "batting ninth!" The young man was the hottest and most productive hitter in the American league for the final 2 months of the season, barely missed winning the batting title (.342!!!), and is among the best place hitters in all of baseball. He is young, enthusiastic, and impressionable. All season he batted no lower than 7th but usually 6th. For all of Cano's success, Joe Torre rewarded him with hitting in the 9 hole. It was not only demoralizing to the All-Star second baseman, it was also stupid baseball. Oh yeah, Cano bombed out in the ALDS.
TOO MANY CHIEFS, NOT ENOUGH INDIANS - With regard to his coaching staff, Torre has surrounded himself with former major league managers, all-stars, and yes-men. With the mixed messages from all these egos colliding with the egos and juvenile temperaments of many of the players, it is no wonder the clubhouse is divided and the ship is adrift. Torre lacks the cor
