It's A Talking Sport

I Had To Do It

2007-07-07T22:04:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's me. And, yeah, this blog still exists. And. most importantly, I had to do it.

I was listening to the post-game show on the radio after tonight's Ranger game and a caller set me off. It was all about money to him. "This team won't spend money. We need to spend money to get players in here. Tom Hicks is a tightwad." (Ok, that isn't a direct quote from the uneducated caller, but it is pretty close to the gist of his argument.)

So I phoned in. When the producer picked up, I told him, "I would love to get in on this conversation." After about five minutes on hold, I was on air. I didn't even have shake voice this time. What I said basically amounted to this:
I am TIRED of the money argument. The Rangers have thrown money at all sorts of free agents only to either get burned or end up with a hired gun who is unhappy... because he took the most money. I pointed out that this team tried to get Barry Zito, with a more-than-plenty offer, this off season only to get rebuked. And why was it rebuked?

Because he didn't want to be here. It really is that simple.

You can toss around dollars and coins and gold bullions and no-trade clauses, but the bottom line is that it is a two way street. There is no law that says the best or longest or most expensive contract offer wins. Hell, you could offer me ten times my salary, but I still would not move to Santa Fe. Baseball players are no different.

Or ARE they?

Remember A-Rod? He accepted Texas' outrageous offer and was miserable the entire time he was here. Yes, he performed. But what did his attitude do to the rest of the team? I'll tell you: It taught Mark Texeira how to be a prima donna. (Maybe their shared agent, Scott Boras, had/has something to do with that, too.)

Yes, Boston is doing great with their inflated payroll. But how about those Yankees?
And, just a question... How much is the cheapest ticket at either of those parks? Can you get in for five bucks?

So I guess the dude that called in and bitched about payroll would much rather field a mediocre team, with no farm system, and pay fifteen bucks or more for the cheapest seat in the yard because it is all anout money to him. High payroll does not always mean first place or a wild card.

My advice to him? Keep doing your curls before you hit the bars in Addison and make sure you have your Blackberry turned on loud to the most obnoxious ring tone the rest of us can imagine. That way, everyone can know how important you are when it comes to spending someone else's money.

Effing tool.

By the way, absolutely no bandwagoning when this team starts winning. Give your season tickets away from your Vett (Chevette) and get back to your $30,000/year millionaire life.

Asshole.

P.S. That chick who is ten years younger than you will drop you like Matt Kata when she realizes you are not all you said you were. And I'll be here, laughing, while also being thankful that my team did not commit to seven years of Zito.

In Which Rose Meets You At The Finish Line

2006-10-02T18:06:00.000-07:00

I wanted to post about the Dodgers' season earlier, but things kept changing. Some teams assemble just-respectably-over-.500 records a game at a time. The Dodgers did it by alternating winning and losing streaks. This is L.A., after all; we live for the drama.

I'm finally writing this after the last regular-season game of the year. By tying the Padres for the division lead, the Dodgers have earned a spot in the playoffs. Since the teams finished with identical records, the top playoff spot goes to the team who won the head-to-head series, and in this case that's the Padres.

That's fine. We'll take the wild card slot.

In true buried-lead fashion, there's already much being made in the national press about how this is the Dodgers' second playoff berth in three years. Dig a little deeper, and you'll find mention of last year's abysmal season. That's not the true story, however. The true story is that Frank McCourt's gone from Worst Owner Ever to Not The Best Owner Ever, But Better Than Fox. After firing Paul DiPodesta, who fired Jim Tracy, who'd gone from Not The Best Manager Ever, But Better Than Davey Johnson to Worst Manager In The History Of Any Sport, Ever, McCourt handed the reins over to Ned Colletti.

The reins came attached to a farm system that was finally back on its feet. With not much time left, Ned Colletti huddled with his new staff of deputy GMs and started going after veterans. Few of them had put up stellar numbers in the past couple of years, but they were all still solid -- if expensive -- players. Some fans grumbled about it, but there wasn't really anywhere to go but up.

Now that Kenny Lofton and Rafael Furcal have both finished the season batting .300 with 30-plus stolen bases -- and Nomar Garciaparra has popped off key hit after key hit when he's healthy -- and Brett Tomko is turning himself into a solid middle reliever -- and Aaron Sele has proven to be the kind of guy who's equally comfortable starting and relieving -- and midseason acquisition Greg Maddux is back in form -- I'm sure the aforementioned grumblers think Ned Colletti's a genius.

Ned Colletti's the first to tell you that he's been winging it much of the time, because things didn't go quite as planned.

The out-for-the-season DL includes Eric Gagne and Yhency Brazoban, the presumed closers, and Bill Mueller, who was supposed to be the third baseman and team leader. Key player after key player got hurt, and some reactivated players never regained their pre-injury form.

But, you know? It all worked out in the end. Newly-promoted rookies and non-roster invitees stepped into the vacuum. Somewhere along the line, Takashi Saito turned himself into a closer, and Brett Tomko decided he'd try middle relief. The team started the season with Dioner Navarro behind the plate. When he got injured, they called up my fake baby boyfriend Russell Martin, and he's been there ever since. It wasn't much of a surprise when Nomar started the season on the DL; what was a surprise was that they were able to stick in James Loney, a kid who'd been happy to make it to AAA, and that he did a pretty darn good job at first base while Nomar was recovering. When he got back, Nomar took to his new position immediately.

I could go on. Perhaps another time, I will.

--

I can't remember another year when so little was decided going into the last week of the season. We had the Dodgers, Padres and Phillies vying for two slots, and for a minute there it looked like Houston would knock off St. Louis at the last minute. The AL Central was tame by comparison; still, it was kind of interesting to watch the Twins slip by the Tigers for the top slot.

That kind of drama gets people's attention, even here.

Despite the fact that Dodger Stadium set yet another attendance record this year, much of L.A. seems only dimly aware that we have a baseball team, much less one that's been winning. It's only in the past couple of weeks that it's become hard to ignore it.

--

I'd like to be able to say that I saw the home run derby comeback of September 18 -- and I suppose I could, but I'd be lying. I checked in on the game as I was driving to the establishment at which I spend perhaps too many Monday nights, and the Dodgers were down by a bunch in the eighth. The game felt like it was going to determine the course of the season, and I just wasn't up to having my heart trampled on some more.

Of course, you know what happened: Four consecutive homers in the ninth, Nomar's game-winner in extra innings, and the Dodgers suddenly looking alive.

They promptly dropped the next two games. With other sports, you can depend on a day or a week off after any given performance. Spend too much energy during or after one game, and it's going to affect you the next day. Baseball's schedule is merciless, which is why there was a Nationals-Phillies game that didn't get started until 11:30pm local time on Thursday. No time to make anything up.

(Earlier that day, James Loney knocked in nine runs in a 19-11 victory over Colorado, proof that Denver is already in football mode.)

I did see the game the following Sunday, when Nomar once again won the game with a home run -- this one a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth. Overkill? Sure. But it worked. And as he rounded the bases, I realized that the last time I saw a guy playing in so much pain hit such a crucial home run, it was Kirk Gibson in the first game of the 1988 World Series.

--

If you can't clinch a playoff berth at home, then you want to clinch it where it's going to hurt the most. So it's fitting that the Dodgers won it in San Francisco.

The gang was all there. Frank McCourt, Ned Colletti and Tommy Lasorda were in the stands. Vin Scully was in the press box; he doesn't usually call games that aren't on local TV, but he almost always gets in on a late-season radio game against the Giants.

Eric Gagne and Bill Mueller were in the clubhouse, eyeing the champagne. When the rest of the team streamed in, Gagne poured champagne on everyone within arm's reach. Mueller manned the distribution table.

Everyone contributes in the end. It just doesn't always work out quite as you'd expect.

--

So now we head into the postseason, and the speculation. Will Brad Penny's back loosen up enough to pitch -- and does it really matter, when Derek Lowe and Greg Maddux are throwing so well and when rookie Hong-Chih Kuo is right up there with them? Will Nomar be well enough to play? Will the veterans' collective playoff experience help? Will national broadcasters stop talking about next season long enough to notice that the Dodgers' season isn't over yet?

Conventional wisdom is that the Dodgers will go down in flames against the Mets. Why should the team start paying attention to conventional wisdom now? This is the team that went 1-14 -- and immediately followed that by going 17-1.

I've been saying it all year: Numbers are good indicators, but intangibles matter, too. There's no way to predict what's going to happen in the playoffs. All you can do is watch.

Watch the players. Watch the game. Watch for miracles. This is baseball, after all. We like that sort of thing.

The Suite at the Ballpark at Arlington

2006-08-28T23:07:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, August 27, I was treated to a free ticket to a suite at the Ballpark at Arlington. I know two things. The Rangers shut out the A's and all the people at the suite were great. I felt like one of the gang. Thanks to Joni, I was invited since I got her to beg for a ticket for me. I am a bit ashamed since I didn't watch much of the game. Too much time socializing, drinking, and taking smoke breaks.

Unlike someone else on this collective blog I didn't take a camera to the game. But someone had a camera there and possibly someone else here can post some of the pictures. We'll see.

Once again thanks to everyone that was at the game for the hospitality. To Ali and Nathan for the free ticket. And especially Bullit for the buddy pass.

A Call To Apathy

2006-08-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

It is Thursday night. The last scoring update I saw showed the Rangers beating the Devil Rays by a tally of 4-2. And it was the ninth inning.

Ho-hum.

Why can I not get more interested?

At this time last season I was living in a place (that some know as "the phonebooth") that did not have "premium" TV (my choice) and I was forced to listen to the games on the radio - except for those two nights a week (roughly) on which the games were broadcast on a channel that I could pick up with my rabbit ears.

And last year's team sucked. This year's? Not so bad.

So what is my problem?

I should have been stoked after Texas took 3 of 4 on the road in Detroit. Maybe years of let downs have saddened my soul. Perhaps I have become jaded beyond repair. But I don't think so.

The Rangers were the most active of the AL West teams before the traditional July 31 trading deadline. And it wasn't even close. Added to the major league roster were the likes of Carlos Lee, Nelson Cruz, Kip Wells, and Matt Stairs. Other than Lee, none are barnbusters but, hey... who did the Angels add? What about the A's? Or even the Mariners?

But the thing about this team is that, no matter who is on the roster, they have been amazingly (even unworldly) average. They do just enough to stay in the race and they also fail just enough to lurk on the fringes of being considered dangerous. On any given night they can pound out 18 hits and 11 runs, opposing starter be damned. Then they can flail against a guy who has no business dominating a lineup populated by (now) five former All-Stars and a guy who is third in the AL in batting average.

What gives?

I, for one, do not buy into the theory that Buck Showalter rides the players too hard and they end up giving up on him after a few seasons. He is not to blame for this. Chemistry is not to blame for this. The Texas heat is not to blame for this. I don't even think the new air condiotioners in the home dugout are to blame for this.

Me? I place the blame squarely on one thing: Apathy.

Apathy is contagious, and it has been spreading in this area since 1999 (with the exception of 2004). In typical "chicken and egg" fashion, it is impossible to place the blame on any one aspect. Fans? Media? Players? Front office? Where did it start?

When you do not expect much, that is exactly what you get.

I'm just sorry that it has made me turn a deaf ear to the sounds of the great game and that it has kept me from posting on this site more frequently.

BUT - with all that said - I will be at the game this Sunday night with a large group of friends enjoying the benefits of a suite. And if, on that night, Texas completes a sweep of the hated A's? Allow me to redact all of the above.

After all, isn't that what being a fan is all about?

In Which Rose Takes A Camera To A Baseball Game

2006-08-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

As I was getting ready to head to Dodger Stadium one day last week, it occured to me that I'd never taken a camera to a baseball game.

The situation has been remedied. Click on any of the thumbnails below to see the photos and commentary, or click on the photo above (or here, if you don't feel like scrolling up) for a proper index page.

In Which Rose Blinks In Disbelief

2006-08-05T18:37:00.000-07:00

It's August.

The Dodgers have some new players.

Good new players.

The only guys missing are unproven, wouldn't be seeing regular playing time, or have... issues.

The players on whom the team's future supposedly rests are still there.

Could it be that the Dodgers finally have a front office team that wants to... you know... win?

Before the season started, Ned Colletti put together an impressive team on short notice. They looked good coming out of the gate. Then the injuries set in. The bullpen disintegrated. A team that started off a carefully balanced mix of veterans and up-and-comers was a taped-together mess of rookies -- great rookies, mind you, but still learning the big-league game -- and veterans playing out of position. Offensively, they were spiraling downward. Mostly-decent starting pitching isn't going to do you much good if the team can't score some runs to back it up.

Pretty typical July scenario in the City of Angels.

Except something happened, something that I don't remember seeing since the O'Malleys owned the team:

They made good trades.

The first trade of note was the Odalis Perez-for-Elmer Dessens deal. Odalis Perez, as you may recall, was put in the bullpen after blowing a few too many starts, and was downright disgruntled about it. He was a good candidate to be dealt away. The question was, what team would be desperate enough to want him?

Go on, take a guess.

Odalis Perez is now a Kansas City Royal. He was accompanied by some minor leaguers who may or may not work out.

Elmer Dessens seems very happy to be a Dodger again. Or maybe he's just thrilled about no longer being a Royal. Six of one...

That seems to be a theme among the new Dodger acquisitions: They're happy to be playing for a team that hasn't given up hope of making the playoffs.

"It's nice to have a reason to pitch besides doing it for myself," Greg Maddux told the LA Times. "That's what happens when your team falls out of the race. We are absolutely still in it."

Wait a minute. Greg Maddux?

The Dodgers collectively joined me in that disbelieving blink. Greg Maddux. Greg Maddux? Greg freakin' Maddux is a Dodger?

"I still can't believe we have him. It's like a miracle," coach Rich Donnelly marveled to the Times.

Catcher Russell Martin, who's just a little more than half Maddux' age: "He's so prepared. This guy knows exactly what he wants to do. I just hope he likes me."

(How cute is that? Russell Martin is so my new fake baby boyfriend.)

The people who called in to the postgame radio show were miffed, of course. Why else would you call a postgame show? They couldn't see why Ned Colletti would trade a young, proven shortstop for an aging pitcher who would probably only be there for the remainder of the season.

Does six innings of no-hit ball answer their question? What the naysayers are missing is that Maddux is built for the long haul. He's a very technical pitcher who can put the ball exactly where he wants it, without putting undue strain on his body. Heck, he might even stick around after this season. Who knows?

There's also the little matter of Cesar Izturis hitting barely above the Mendoza line. The best pitching in the world doesn't matter if it's not backed up by a little offense.

That's the other thing that has me blinking: The Dodgers have remembered how to hit a ball with a stick.

As I'm sure you noticed, dear reader, the Dodgers had a pretty dismal July. In the two weeks after the All-Star break, they won one and lost thirteen.

Things got so bad that manager Grady Little, GM Ned Colletti and owner Frank McCourt went on the radio to have a "what's wrong with the Dodgers?" roundtable. As you can imagine, the callers weren't happy. All the guys could do was say, in essence, "Look: You try things. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don't. And right now, they aren't."

And now they are.

Maybe it's the new players. Maybe it was the day off after that awful two-week stretch. Maybe it was Tommy Lasorda's threat of a hunger strike. Whatever it is, the Dodgers are winning. Today made it eight wins in a row. Yeah, it was just the Nationals, Reds and Marlins, but still: A win's a win, and eight of them go a long way towards balancing out the losing streak.

I'm still getting emails which say, "What's up with the Dodgers?" The inflection is just different.

With 162 games in a season, baseball lends itself to streaks. If a team is a .500 ballclub, then statistically it doesn't matter whether they alternate wins and losses by the game or by the streak.

There's still a lot that can happen in two months. The pitching staff could gel or collapse. (I've a feeling I'll be making a few posts about the pitching either way.) The veterans could get better, or they could be out for the season -- or longer. Russell Martin and Andre Ethier could continue to be Rookie of the Year contenders, or they could burn out. An infield made up of position players-turned-utility guys could work out, as it's been doing, or start having trouble remembering where to throw the ball. When the roster expands, the minor league prospects might be ready, or not.

Two months to go. This is getting good.

By the by, I have an extra ticket for this Monday evening's game at Dodger Stadium versus the Rockies. My, as the kids say, "crew" will be sitting in the top deck behind home plate -- the best, and cheapest, seats in the house. If you or anyone you know wants to join us, you can email me for details at rose.auerbach at gmail dot com. (There's a handy-dandy link over at my other blog, for those of you who don't feel like re-typing the address with proper symbols.)

And, yes, I'll explain the infield fly rule, if you ask nicely. Devin can breathe a little more easily.

How Shrek Got His Groove Back, or: Carlos Comes To Town

2006-08-03T20:42:00.000-07:00

I'd like to start with a point or two of clarification, so we don't get confused here:

* I have been nothing but a fan of Kevin Mench during his whole time in Texas.

* I don't believe in making trades simply to appease the fan base, or players in the clubhouse.

* I hate explaning the Infield Fly Rule. (Just note it for future reference.)

While I don't think the six-player deal the Rangers and Brewers executed was the greatest trade our Little Red Shoes have ever pulled off (that would be the 1998 trade deadline move of Darren Oliver and Fernando Tatis to the Cardinals for Todd Stottlemyre and Todd Zeile, which helped us cinch up the AL West that year), it was the best thing the Rangers could have done to goose an offense that has not been firing on all cylinders the last two seasons.

It may also be one of those trades that works out for everyone involved, from the players involved to the teams dealing.

Here are your components:

Kevin Mench was growing frustrated with his spotty role in the Rangers ranks. He was always mentioned in trade talks, and he never really knew himself whether he would be in the lineup from day to day. In the last offseason, he appeared on a Philadelphia Eagles pre-game show (his hometown team) and said bluntly, "I really don't expect to be with the Rangers much longer." For whatever reason, Mench has been in manager Buck Showalter's "dog house," and never appeared to be able (or willing) to climb out of it.

His production hasn’t helped much. This season, Mench was hitting .284 / .338 / .469 with 12 home runs (most coming in the week-long stretch after his shoe size was correctly used). Those aren’t numbers you normally want to see from a corner outfielder. Granted, that might have been different had he played every day in the outfield. (Sorry, it’s the Mench apologist in me coming out. Can’t be helped.)

In Milwaukee, he'll get more playing time, a fresh start on a team with a manager he doesn't have to tiptoe around, and a chance to let his personality win over the home crowd (which should take about six minutes). In his first seven games with the Brewers as their everyday right fielder, he's 4-for-17 with one homer and five RBI.

For whatever reason, Francisco Cordero has not been able to come close to the level of dominance he showed in the 2004 season. That year, he recorded 49 saves (a club record), with five blown saves, a record of 3-4 and an ERA of 2.14. In 2005, you've got 37 saves, eight blown opportunities, a record of 3-1 and an ERA of 3.39. This year, it all falls apart: seven saves recorded, nine blown, a record of 7-4 and an ERA of 4.59; loses the closing job to Akinori Otsuka; begins to show some signs of consistency, but never fully recovers.

The appearance against the Yankees on July 26 was the final straw, allowing four runs to score in the eighth inning on a homer, a double and a wild pitch It spoiled a great effort by John Rheinecker, paved the way for a Yankees sweep, and punched his ticket to Milwaukee.

With luck, Cordero will find his mojo again in the land of Cheeseheads, but there was no sign of it happening at the Temple.

Laynce Nix played his way out of a starting job in center field this year, and the outlook for him returning to the Rangers has never seemed good since. Like Mench and Cordero, Nix was a fan favorite in Arlington, but had difficulty staying healthy and offensively productive.

It's highly likely we'll look back on the trade of these players and -- like so many other times in Rangers history -- wonder what would have happened had we not let them go (see: Sosa, S; Nen, R; Hafner, T, ad nauseum). But the players we got in return for Mench, Cordero and Nix soothe the pain a bit. In his first three games as a Ranger, Carlos Lee showed why he’s a threat both offensively (7-for-12, 1 RBI) and defensively (solid, accurate throws from the left corner every time).

Add in the hottest prospect from the Brewers’ farm system (outfielder Nelson Cruz), and it looks like Rangers GM Jon Daniels pulled a fast one on Milwaukee’s GM, our old friend Doug Melvin. But don’t be too sure Melvin didn’t get exactly what he wanted out of the deal, either.

Lee has made it clear he would not re-sign with the Brewers when his contract expired, turning down a four-year extension worth $48 million earlier in the month. Melvin was tasked with trying to get the most value for Lee while he was still a tradable commodity. While the GM for the Rangers, Melvin engineered the trade of Juan Gonzales to the Detroit Tigers to acquire Cordero (along with six other players), so he knew what CoCo was capable of. He also watched as Mench and Nix developed through the Rangers minor league system.

He wanted players who were major-league ready, not minor league prospects who may or may not be ready for prime time. The other five teams who were talking to the Brewers about Lee probably had players ready for the big club, but Melvin knew the guys on the Rangers’ offer sheet could be plugged in and produce from day one.

Add all of it together, and it looks like everyone’s gotten what they wanted: Daniels gets to add offensive firepower without trading away any key components of his farm system or the major league roster; Mench, Cordero and Nix get a fresh start with a new team; Melvin gets maximum value back from a player he was going to lose in the off-season.

In Which Rose Has A Few Questions About The All-Star Game

2006-07-20T20:49:00.000-07:00

For the first time in recent memory, I didn't get a chance to watch any of the All-Star game as it happened.

Yeah, I know, I'm a sucky baseball blogger. Sorry. Blame my parents' cats. With the folks on vacation, I had to make my way across town to check on the hell-beasties. Granted, they are very cute hell-beasties, and as long as they distract my parents enough that they don't notice their lack of grandchildren, I'm all about happy and healthy kitties. Still, there's no way around it: That's one nasty drive. Especially when one has spent the day operating on three hours' sleep.

I caught a couple of updates on the radio, but by the time I checked in on the beasties, drove to my rehearsal, rehearsed, drove to Dan Tana's, found parking, walked into the restaurant, greeted birthday girl Bonnie, did the requisite "hi, I just got here" schmoozing and glanced at the television above the bar, the game was over.

All of which is to say that these are questions about the generalities of the game, rather than the game itself.

First of all, what the hell is up with this whole "one game decides World Series home field advantage" thing? Since when was anything in baseball decided by one game? (One-game divisional tiebreakers don't count, as they're the equivalent of settling a soccer game on penalty kicks.) And, yes, I'd be asking that question even if the National League didn't get their clocks cleaned with stunning regularity. There's just something un-baseball about it. There are other ways to avoid the tie-game debacle that led to the whole "this time, it counts" theme -- like, say, treating the All-Star game as an actual game because it is an actual game.

Second: I understand the need to keep someone in reserve (see "tie-game debacle," above), but come on: First Nomar Garciaparra, who's been at or near of the NL batting list since he reached the required number of at-bats, only gets on the All-Star team due to fan voting -- and then he doesn't see any playing time? The hell?

There is no number three, just like there was no adequate representation of the western divisions of either league. Again: Huh? It would've killed the team maker-uppers to shoot a glance across the Mississippi? You know, where they have all those people who go to all those games and stuff? A quick glance at the numbers from the past few years indicates that the selections generally lean east of the western divisions. This year, no team from either western division had more than two representatives in the game. At the very least, Oakland should have been better-represented. I can only figure that the team maker-uppers glanced at the record and saw a team hovering around .500, rather than a team that was making up for a wretched start by being well-nigh unbeatable going into the break.

Finally: ESPN, you're, like, a sports network or something. You've been at it a while. I'm sure your immediate postgame coverage was varied and vibrant, but the after-that coverage consisted of the same talking heads chattering between the same few clips, over and over and over again. They were still at it when I left, by which time the game had been over for... well, a long time. The talking heads looked like they were about to nod off, and I'm sure they sounded that way as well. Come on, ESPN. You're part of the Disney family. You have the resources to do better.

So, there are the questions. Answer away. Or don't, becase I don't know if there actually are any answers -- just plenty of opinions. That's baseball for you.

Forever Young

2006-07-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

Last night, baseball fans worldwide got to see something that has been as close to a "given" as any event on the diamond over the last three years in Arlington, Texas: Michael Young delivering a clutch, two-out hit. Yup - the secret is finally out. He doesn't belong to just us anymore.

Suddenly the adjectives and analogies are flowing from all over the U.S.

The best pure hitter in the game. The most-underrated star. One of baseball's buried treasures. The quietest great player in baseball. If he were in New York, he'd be bigger than Jeter is right now.

And, speaking of Jeter, he reportedly predicted Young's big hit - both during the ninth inning and before the game. AL manager Ozzie Guillen stated that the New York shortstop told his kids before the game that Michael Young was going to win it for their team. And, as much as I despise the Yankees, it makes me beam with (false?) pride when one of them speaks so highly of a player on my home team.

One moment will forever be etched in my mind from last night's tilt, however.

It isn't the hit itself. It isn't the quiet fist pump from Young as he slid safely into third base (because we see that a lot around here). It isn't all the quotes and accolades after the game from Young's peers. And it isn't the text message I sent to my buddy Joe after the hit, telling him that I smelled MVP honors for Young.

No, what I will remember is Michael running off the field after the top of the ninth and being greeted with a bear hug by Texas teammate Gary Matthews Jr. (who didn't do so badly himself, singling in the lone at-bat of his All-Star Game debut). The joy on both of their faces reminded me why it is that I love baseball, and it also led to me breaking my silence on this site. One gesture inspired me to write this homage to, as Jamey Newberg refers to him, the greatest Texas Ranger ever. (Stow the Nolan Ryan arguments for now.)

Back in 1990, I attended the last Ranger home game before the All-Star break. That was two days before Julio Franco had the game winning hit off of "nasty boy" Rob Dibble, thus securing MVP honors for himself. The great Chuck Morgan put together a video montage of Franco highlights set to music: Simon and Garfunkel's "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard".

I'm thinking today's entry title, 'Forever Young' by Rod Stewart, will make a nice accompaniment to whatever footage of Michael Young that Chuck can string together...

And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young

In Which Rose Defends The NL West

2006-06-29T20:43:00.000-07:00

Snicker about the NL West if you want to. While we wait for the final All-Star tallies, I'm going to tell you why it's worth watching.

You know the NL West. It's that division that's following up a season in which only one team finished above .500 with a run in which, as of this writing, a team only needs to be four games above the line to lead the standings.

When so much else around is black and white, it can be good to appreciate the shades of grey.

You know how far out of first place the last-place team is?

Four games.

You know how far out of first place everyone else is right now?

One game.

You know how many teams in the division have been in first place at some point?

All of them.

No, it's not the flashiest division in baseball, but it may turn out to be the one that comes down to an all-teams sprint at the end of the season. If trends continue -- always a big if, I know -- this is a division that could come down to the most minute of decisions. The trade deadline is approaching, and the dealing is picking up; between that and those ever-growing DLs, there's no way of knowing what any team will look like in a couple months' time. For now, though, it's the only five-way race in the major leagues. And as far as I'm concerned, that's something worth watching.

In Which Rose Addresses The Elephant In The Blog

2006-06-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

In re Barry Bonds hitting his 715th home run, thus passing Babe Ruth on the all-time list:

Don't care.

That's right. I don't care.

At this point, I'm sure someone is already writing to tell me that I obviously do care, if I'm writing about it and all -- and, fine, for that person I'll concede that I care exactly enough as is necessary to notice the fact of home run number 715 and promptly decide that it doesn't matter.

Sure, Bonds holds the single-season home run record, and may very well challenge Hank Aaron for the all-time title. But I think that as a culture, we care more about Mark McGwire toppling a decades-old, seemingly untouchable record, than we do about someone breaking the new one a couple of years later. We may even give more regard to Sammy Sosa, for being the other guy who hit more than 61 out of the park that year. By the time Bonds did it, it was old hat. (Also, it happened in September of 2001, when there were... other things in the news.)

Plus, it doesn't help that for all appearances, Barry Bonds is an arrogant, self-centered jerk. And one thing he doesn't seem to understand is that he's shooting himself in the foot.

Baseball is inherently a team sport, and that simple fact is clear whenever anyone approaches an individual record. If Bonds had thought about it, then he might have pointed out to the Giants front office that if there were a couple more decent hitters to pad the lineup, then he might not have been the guy everyone wanted to walk. He might have reached the 715 mark long ago, without being quite so reviled for it.

(Of course, this supposes some intelligence on the part of the Giants front office, which is packed with people who clearly haven't come up with this radical notion on their own. Which is further proof that the Giants suck, and that the former Giants who followed Ned Colletti south should be thanking their lucky stars that there was room for them down here.)

If Bonds cobbles together a few more seasons of double-digit home run counts -- which could happen if he goes to an AL team and doesn't have to worry about that whole pesky "playing in the outfield" thing -- he may pass Hank Aaron, but he'll never have as many homers as Sadaharu Oh. You remember him, don't you? He set the worldwide record for career home runs with 868, and stuck around Japanese baseball after his playing days were over. Just a couple of months ago, he coached Japan's national baseball team to the world championship. It's too early to say for sure, but I have a feeling Bonds' idea of giving back to baseball will turn out to involve another wretched reality show that doesn't even make it through its first season.

I know there's no requirement that a baseball player be a nice guy. Baseball lore is riddled with guys like Babe Ruth: Legendary players who you'd like to have on your team, but wouldn't really want to hang out with -- not that they'd want to hang out with you, of course. Barry Bonds wins all those MVP awards because as far as the numbers go, he's usually the guy who does the most to help his team win the most games in a given year. But in the flesh-and-blood world, intangibles count. And that's where Bonds falls short.

And that's why I don't care.

In Which Rose Ponders Steve Howe's Mortality (And Makes It All About Her)

2006-05-06T16:55:00.000-07:00

I was working on a draft of a piece about going into the season with the team you have rather than the team you wish you had when I saw the headline about Steve Howe's death. If you're reading this from the Dodger front office and were hoping to get my thoughts on what's up with the pitching, this isn't your day. (Though since I'm here, I will suggest that Carter and Hamulack be reserved for relief situations in which giving up a run or two won't hurt anything, at least until they get some confidence going. You're welcome.)

I've been trying to write about Steve Howe since April 28. It took me a while to figure out why the words weren't coming.

Growing up when and where I did, no one ever had to warn us about the dangers of sex and drugs. (Rock and roll took care of itself.) This was when AIDS mowed its way through Hollywood and Silverlake, the local consequence of something so big that Ronald Reagan finally had to acknowledge that it was happening. We had only to look around us to see what could happen if you weren't careful with sex or IV drugs.

In the White House, Nancy Reagan was chirping, "Just Say No". In reality, we had Steve Howe.

Rookie of the Year, 1980. Great guy, when he wasn't using.

A few years later, my seventh-grade health teacher drew a diagram of the human nose on the chalkboard. "See this cartilage?" he said, pointing to the thin strip that separated the nostrils. "Steve Howe snorted so much cocaine that there's a big hole in his." Was that true? I don't know. But it was a lot more effective than "Just Say No".

Steve Howe crashed and burned. Our teachers looked at us sternly. We students in the Highly Gifted program were, we were told, the best and the brightest. Top half-percent on whatever scale they used. College-bound. Expected to do great things, like Steve Howe was. We were not to screw this up like he did.

Just as our teachers conveniently ignored the fact that we'd have to navigate high school before we got to college, I think baseball as a whole tries to forget that when you give young people a certain degree of fame and lots of money, they have certain opportunities. In the early- and mid-eighties, cocaine had to have been an awfully hard opportunity to ignore.

Over the next decade or so, Howe was in and out of the major leagues -- a suspension here, an overturned ban there. By all accounts, he was a mentor to younger players, but at the end of the day he wasn't someone that a major league team could afford to keep around.

In the decade or so after those junior high school warnings, I had a series of derailments of my own. Just as Howe must have had a biological predisposition to addiction, it turns out that I have a biological predisposition to depression. The results were the same: Me lying there on the couch like a college-educated lump, the people around me wondering how I'd gone from bright and funny and promising to... that. Some people tried to support me. Some people thought they were helping when they told me to snap out of it. It was about as helpful as telling Steve Howe to just stop using drugs.

It's tempting to take an individual and turn him into a symbol that illustrates one's own take on the thing that retrospectively defines them -- which, of course, is exactly what I am doing. The commentaries I've read over the past week tend to fall into two categories: Either Howe was an addict whose long, downward spiral couldn't be stopped even with treatment; or he was an idiot who blithely threw it all away without a thought for anyone else. Neither tack addresses the notion that, as my grandmother would say, some people have a harder row to hoe.

In time, I got better. Not well -- I don't know if I'll ever truly and permanently get there -- but better. It's kind of ironic: For my entire adolescence, I was warned away from illegal mood-altering substances, but as an adult I'm the poster child for legal ones. And yet, if I hadn't initially sought treatment, and if I hadn't stuck with it all this time, I'd probably still be out of commission. Or worse.

To hear the people who knew him tell it, Howe had managed to pull it together over the past few years. But maybe he still needed that rush that comes with taking a potentially fatal risk. A risk like driving his pickup truck at 70 mph without a seatbelt. Some risks are more mundane than others.

The quotes from Steve Howe's former teammates and managers sound hollow. Not empty, mind you; hollow, as if the speakers had known for years that someday in the not-too-distant future, they'd be called on to talk about this very subject. It was just a matter of when, and how. That kind of dread gets exhausting.

A couple of days after Steve Howe died, I met a guy who, not too long ago, had been a highly-regarded pitching prospect. He was still in the minors when his arm failed him. To hear him tell it, he wasn't at all upset about this, because it meant that he could pursue his real dream: Acting. He still loves and appreciates the game, of course. And he keeps coming back to one aspect of it.

"Baseball," he said, "is the only thing I can think of where if you only succeed three out of ten times, you're considered great."

"But if you only succeed two out of ten, you're a failure," I pointed out. "It's an awfully thin line." Had we had longer to talk, I would have also pointed out that the numbers are different for pitchers. Pitchers can falter here and there, but if they outright fail seven times out of ten, they're just plain failures.

Was Steve Howe a failure? As a baseball player, I guess you could say he was. As a person? Not as far as I'm concerned. There are those who'd say that he was, but I think they might be forgetting that sometimes, a successful legacy is hard to see in the immediate aftermath of a spectacular downfall.

I'll get back to juggling statistics next time. For now, please make sure to wear your seatbelt, even if you're not planning to drive an unstable vehicle at high speeds. Life is risky enough as it is.

Maybe Sam Jackson Can Coach

2006-04-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

They're not "knee-jerk reactions" after 21 games:

There is something wrong with Francisco Cordero, and it's not his shoulder. It's six inches above it. He simply does not know where the next pitch will go, doesn't have confidence in his fastball, and thinks more highly of his slider than he should.
I want Orel Hershiser back here, and I don't care how much money it would take to get him back away from ESPN. Orel would do more good than an army of Mark Conners.
D'Angelo Jimenez is a defensive butcher, and makes me long for the days that Alfonso Soriano played in the (4) slot. Quit running Jimenez out there, and give me more Drew Meyer.
With apologies to Corby Davidson, I think Kameron Loe's nickname should be "Snake." I want to make up shirts piggy-backing on the upcoming film hype, with the slogan "Snakes on a Mound."
Brad Wilkerson should find out if his shoes are one-half size too small.
No one in the AL West is impressing me. If the Rangers are going to mount anything close to a division run, they need to make haste with it. The Angels and Athletics won't slumber for long.

A Room At The Heartbreak Hotel

2006-04-21T20:28:00.000-07:00

Yahoo! Sports made a great move this season, in my opinion, by enlisting Jeff Passan to write for their baseball site. I had no idea who he was at the onset, but it didn't take me long to become a fan. He's a younger guy (or appears to be, anyway) and he seems to continually come up with storylines that would normally be considered out of the norm. In other words, he writes about things my generation - and the generation that followed - can relate to.

In his April 15 column, he wrote about a guy who put Vin Scully's voice to a Nintendo re-enactment of the ninth inning of Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.

Yes, that is the "Bill Buckner Game". Until 2004, it was the bane of Red Sox fans everywhere, though RedSoxNation probably still cusses the poor guy.

So, at the risk of alienating my New England family, here is the video that the young man created. It's worth watching, if only for Scully's voice.

I'm sorry, Aunt Donna.

Bullpen Woes

2006-04-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

Just finished watching Texas versus Seattle. Texas bullpen implodes and blows a nice lead in the ninth. Horrible, just horrible.

In Which Rose Is A WINner

2006-04-14T19:03:00.000-07:00

Last year, Dodger Vice Chair Jamie McCourt (a.k.a. Mrs. Guy Who Owns The Dodgers, but that's kind of like calling Hillary Clinton Mrs. Guy Who Was President) launched a little program called the Women's Initiative & Network, or "WIN". According to the site, it is

... a new program in baseball focused on providing women of all ages and backgrounds with unique opportunities to learn about the sport, participate in the unparalleled Dodger Stadium experience, and contribute to our community and our National Pastime in innovative, meaningful ways.

Additionally,

WIN will offer women special access to the game experience through events and ongoing programs, including baseball clinics, seminars, and forums involving Dodger players, coaches, and staff.

For strictly journalistic purposes, I have signed up with WIN. I am now eligible for the following:

Women's Win Pack - A 7 Game Plan for only $70: half-price tickets for every Thursday game, in the Women's section, which makes it sound like an orthodox synagogue or something.
DodgersWIN (tm) Baseball Clinics. The next one is on April 22 and will feature Jeff Kent. It costs $50 to attend. Who wants to sponsor me? Or I could wait until the July 22 one -- it's also $50, but I would be permitted to bring two kids to the clinic. I don't think any of the parents I know will go for it, though. They're variously willing to expose their offspring to showbiz, experimental technology and giant effigies of Cthulhu, but Jeff Kent might be a tough sell.
Speakers including Kim Ng, VP and Asst. General Manager and de facto GM before they brought in Ned Colletti (May 15, $30) and Tommy Lasorda (October 3, price TBA)
Promotions including DodgersWIN night presented by Trader Joe's (please tell me that the promised giveaways include cases of Two Buck Chuck) and a Smashbox Cosmetics giveaway night at which "Natalie Coughlin, 2 time Gold Medal Winning Swimmer, will throw out the first pitch". The site does not note what the giveaway will consist of, but it's a fair bet that there will be some leftovers from the previous night's Steve Garvey Bobblehead giveaway.
August 1's "Learn How to Keep Score while watching a few innings of Reds vs. Dodger game" ($30).
Various receptions and lunches, which may or may not be the same thing as the WIN Networking Series. ("This will be a series of six independent networking opportunities to meet new friends and mingle with current and past members of the Dodger organization". Sounds like rubber chicken and a chat with a former assistant to an assistant GM.)

The site includes a handy link to a section on "Baseball Basics," which would seem to negate the need for the "Learn How to Keep Score" night. Save your thirty bucks and go right here.

There are a few flaws with this whole scheme. For example, "A 7-Game Plan for only $70"? Rule number one of attending games at Dodger Stadium: Sit in the top deck behind home plate. Seats are only $6 a pop, and you have a great view of what's going on. You won't catch a ball, but that also means you won't get hit in the head by a ball or by the people running after it, so that's a plus in my book.

Also, there's the fact that I signed up three days ago and have yet to receive a confirmation email. The hell?

If and when I do hear anything, I will share the love. In the meantime, I shall sit here and repeatedly remind myself that the Dodgers really do have a strong farm system going, and that at the rate the injuries are piling up, this will come in very handy as the season progresses. And by "progresses," I mean "approaches May".

It's worth every cent

2006-04-11T10:45:00.000-07:00

After years of being tormented by the commercials for the MLB Extra Innings on Dish Network, I finally caved in and bought it. At $149 it is worth it. Every last cent. Right now (1:45 pm, Tuesday) I'm watching the Mets play the Nationals. Then at 2pm I have 2 more games to choose from. Working at home has always had its advantages but now it's heaven.

So to all the suckers in cubical land, enjoy your flourescent bulbs and nosy co-workers. I'll be in my home office watching America's greatest game.

In which Tony is kind of depressed

2006-04-03T21:31:00.000-07:00

The alternate point of view from Rose is that my team, the Braves, had bullpen meltdown number 1 of who knows how many. Although they won, their true colors came shining through. I hope that this is still "shaking the rust off" but as it has been said history repeats it self. In the Braves history it is always the bullpen.

In Which Rose Is Actually Kind Of Impressed

2006-04-03T19:39:00.000-07:00

Yes, the Dodgers lost today. Nominal ace Derek Lowe crumbled, and reliever Hong-Chih Kuo, who was so great in spring training, gave up two runs in two-thirds of an inning for an ERA of 27.00. But you know what? The team almost pulled off a September-caliber rally, coming from being down 8-1 in the fifth inning to losing by only one run, and they did it with plain old utilitarian move-the-guy-along hitting. (And, for that matter, without Nomar.) It's also promising that the rest of the relievers were in fine form.

161 games left. And that right there is one of the great things about baseball.

Here's hoping the worst of the rain holds off for a few days.

Come Out And Play

2006-04-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

(I'm starting this "typed while watching" entry a little late, so the first few notes will not have any time stamps.)

Opening Day is always a monumental moment for me, so I wanted to have a record of some sorts about the first Texas Rangers game of the year. Please indluge me. Diving right in now...

First inning: Kevin Millwood looked fearless about pitching in the launching pad that knowing fans call The Temple. He struck out Coco Crisp to start the game and the 1-2-3 inning ended with Laynce Nix tracking down a David Ortiz smoker into the right centerfield gap. I held my breath a bit as Nix approached the wall, knowing his football mentality, but he managed to soften the blow.

Curt Schilling went 1-2-3, also, striking out Brad Wilkerson and Michael Young to start the inning before getting Mark Teixeira to ground out. Dare I suggest a pitchers' duel? In this park?

Commercial break Wow. That shrimp quesadilla at Taco Cabana looks effin' awesome.

1:29pm Rookie Ian Kinsler got his first fielding chance on a grounder from Manny Ramirez. He bobbled the ball, but calmly picked it up and made the throw to first for the out. It's always good to get the first chance out of the way early.

1:31pm Laynce Nix again tracked down a well hit ball in the gap. Damn, I hope he stays healthy this season.

1:34pm Young just made a nice play deep in the shortstop hole, but his throw was too late to get Jason Varitek out. Am I really to believe that Young is the worst fielding SS in the American League?

1:39pm The closest thing to the first Texas hit of the year was a little blooper off the bat of Phil Nevin to center, caught by a sliding Crisp. I'm thinking that Red sox Nation will be won over by the speedy Coco and Grizzly Damon will turn into just a nice memory... eventually.

1:51pm Is it wrong of me to think that seeing a bunch of kids in the stands, who should be in school, is a good thing?

1:55pm Ian Kinsler's first major league at bat... line drive single the opposite way.

Bonus Knee-jerk Reaction Go ahead and give him the Rookie of the Year award now.

2:01pm David Ortiz scares the crap outta me everytime I see him at the plate. What an imposing dude.

2:06pm The collective shutout is over. 2-0 Boston after a Varitek double. The RBI hit followed a two out, four pitch walk, the first free pass of the game by either side. There is a lesson there.

2:08pm There is that shrimp quesadilla again. It is becoming my bugaboo.

2:10pm Just saw Kinsler's fiancee. The kid done good.

2:12pm I wonder, as I watch Teixeira poke a single to center, if fans of opposing teams get the same feeling of dread when they see Tex at the plate that I get when I see Ortiz or Vlad Guerrero against my team. If not, they should. And they will.

2:27pm 3-0 Boston. This Rangers team is done! (Kidding, of course.)

2:30pm My Ortiz fears manifested themselves in the form of a towering homerun off the right field foul pole. 5-0 Red Sox. He is one of those rare players, like Guerrero, who is damn good for the opposition but almost impossible to dislike. Damn him.

2:33pm Kevin Mench, while in right field, just covered his mouth with his glove... to yawn. Never a good sign.

2:34pm Typical Mench. Right after looking disinterested, he makes a nice sliding catch to end the inning.

2:35pm I'm hungry.

2:43pm Two turkey sandwiches later, I'm feeling better. Watching Ian "The Kid" Kinsler work a two out walk out of Schilling helped, too.

3:02pm What the Hell? Coco Crisp just caught Tex's long fly to center for the second out, but then he tossed the ball into the stands to a fan. That might be the first time I have seen that (other than the blooper reels when there are men on base) before three outs.

3:06pm 5-2 Boston. For the fourth consecutive home opener, Hank Blalock has homered - and this one was the absolute definition of a "frozen rope". Jeez.

3:22pm 6-2 Boston. Big Papi strikes again, this time with an RBI double. (The good news? Ortiz is on my fantasy league team.)

3:33pm I just realized something... Buck Showalter is not wearing a jacket. That it took me so long to notice is rather embarrassing. (By the way, insert gratuitous "jacket off" jokes here.)

3:44pm Through seven (admittedly strong) innings, Schilling has thrown 117 pitches. How in the world can Boston manager Terry Francona allow that to happen during the first game of the season? Who is his mentor? Dusty Baker?

3:47pm Mike Lowell, who was very nearly a Ranger prior to this season, has gone yard. 7-2 Boston now. (161 games to go. Keep the panic in check.)

4:13pm Adam Stern, playing left field as a defensive replacement for Manny Ramirez in the ninth inning, just made the biggest little league move I have seen in a big league game. After crashing into the wall on Kevin Mench's double, he reached up and tore his hat off before chasing down the ball. I guess it made him run faster?

4:16pm Coco Crisp just made even more fans in Boston after that catch of Nix's liner over his head. Wow. At least the ninth inning is waking me up a bit.

4:17pm Game over. Boston 7, Texas 3.

This entry sounded like a good idea in my head as the game commenced, but you be the judge.

Get 'em tomorrow, boys.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

2006-04-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

By the time this entry is posted, the first pitch of the 2006 Rangers debut will be less than 12 hours away. (And, by the time the notoriously slow RSS feed of this site starts sending this entry to the RSS readers of the world, the game will almost certainly be over.)

The "ill wind", however, is already hovering over Arlington's Temple, all because of the trade of David Dellucci.

Mack Brown hasn't even begun to loosen up for the first pitch (assuming, of course, that he will do so before throwing in front of over 50,000 people) yet I am all ready to declare a catastrophic moment before the season even begins. And, man - I hope I am wrong.

Listen... I love David Dellucci. Nice player, great teammate, and by all reports a totally upstanding man of character. But baseball is a business, as much as we would all like it not to be. So, with the injury to the Rangers number two starter (Adam Eaton), GM Jon Daniels felt he had to do something to give the team more starting pitching depth.

He began by trading the enigmatic, yet super talented, Juan Dominguez in a three team deal that netted Texas a stop-gap starting pitcher (John Koronka) and a young lefty with upside (John Rheinecker) for depth. Let's face it - this was another Esteban Loaiza situation. Loaiza had/has all the talent in the world, but he never fulfilled it in Pittsburgh. The Pirates gave up on him and traded him to the Rangers (for Warren Morris and that Van Poppel kid). Again, Loaiza showed flashes of brilliance mixed in with brain fart pitches launched into the Texas sky.

Former Rangers GM Doug Melvin managed to trade Loaiza to the Toronto Blue Jays, cajoling from them a green shortstop named Michael Young. Loaiza spent two unspectacular years in Canada before signing with the Chicago White Sox as a free agent in 2003. He finished second in the Cy Young voting that year. With some, it just takes longer, and a change of scenery (or two or more) is often needed.

But I'm getting off track here. Crap. Let's get back to the Dellucci trade.

His teammates loved him. He was a leader, a ladies' man, and always good for a quote with the local writers. Then Jon Daniels traded him to the Phillies for right-handed pitcher Robinson Tejada and minor league outfielder Jake (brother of Hank) Blalock. The outcry, which has me very concerned, started immediately. Why am I concerned? I'll tell you.

I'm worried that the Rangers have created an atmosphere in which the players are spoiled. Last season was surely disappointing, based on the strong showing in 2004, but the whining as the July 31 trade deadline approached was sad. "Give us help!" That was the plea. Key players like Young and Mark Teixera were very vocal regarding the lack of moves by Jon Hart's front office.

See, the problem is that the players on the major league team don't care about the future of the team as much as the front office does. And that is OK. I want them to want to win now. But if Hart had traded John Danks for, say, Zack Greinke of the Kansas City royals, the long-term results might have been devastating.

And now, with pitching problems popping up like a game of Whack-A-Mole, Daniels had to do something. And not only did he do something, he fleeced his favorite whipping boy (Philles GM Pat Gillick) again. Dellucci for Tejada? I'd make that deal in a heartbeat. To me, the genius part is that Daniels managed to get the younger (yet taller) Blalock thrown in, maybe in an effort to soften the chemistry blow in the clubhouse.

But the two Rangers with the biggest locker room voices expressed dismay. There is no bigger fan of Teixera and Young than me (especially concerning the shortstop), but I just want to yell at them. "You cannot have it both ways! You cannot complain about a lack of pitching and then whine when your GM, your boss, makes a 'sell high' trade to give the team - YOUR team - the best pitching depth it has had in decades!"

If they need testimonials, Pat Gillick will gladly oblige. Daniels traded Ricardo Rodriguez to the Phillies for number three (now number two) starter Vicente Padilla. Padilla has "All-Star" on his resume. Rodriguez was cut from Philly at the end of camp. After the release, Gillick said something along the lines of "it was a bad trade".

The "bad trade" description is true. But only for one team - so far, at least. In my book, Daniels is winning on the player moves front. I only hope that the Ranger players realize that it is Jon's job to put the pieces together as he sees fit and it is their job to perform on the field.

After all, there is no crying in baseball.

---

The quote of the day comes from an article on the Rangers MLB.com website:
"We're leading the league in Blalocks and I don't think anybody is going to catch us."

- Texas Rangers GM Jon Daniels

Eleven hours 'til first (Rangers) pitch now. Life is good.

In Which Rose Makes Some Predictions

2006-03-30T13:00:00.000-08:00

Regular season

AL West
The Angels have the strongest lineup, true. I just can't bring myself to pick them. Sorry, it's that whole "Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim" thing. Just... no. Instead, I'm picking the A's. Any team that has the moxie to take the field in those uniforms has what it takes to win. Plus, if the A's win it all, then I might get to try on a World Series ring. Hey, it makes as much sense as picking the Rangers, Leem.

The Seattle Mariners will continue to be cute when they try.

AL East
Of course it's going to come down to the Red Sox and the Yankees. One will win, and the other will get the wild card slot. Seriously, why do any of the other teams bother pretending to play?

AL Central
I know that you can't really go off of what happens in spring training, but the White Sox are taking such a beating that I just can't pick them to win this one. Cleveland pretty much takes it by default.

AL Wild Card
See "AL Central" above.

NL East
True to form, the Florida Marlins have followed a reasonably successful season by dismantling the team and selling it for parts. Yeah, I don't get it either. Maybe the thought is that having one really good season every seven years or so brings in more money than cultivating an audience.

The New York Mets have a better shot than in recent years simply because they've replaced Mike Piazza with a catcher who can actually throw out would-be stealers at second base. Paul Lo Duca is a former Dodger who fell victim to a Moneyball-inspired trade. He's not the flashiest player out there, but he has -- you will forgive the phrase -- the hustle.

The winner? The Atlanta Braves. Haven't you been paying attention? It doesn't matter who does well for which team. The NL East has been on Braves-take-the-division autopilot for well over a decade, and I don't see any signs that anyone will be waking up any time soon.

NL Central
This one will probably come down to St. Louis and Houston, with the St. Louis Cardinals edging out Houston, because pitching can only take you so far.

NL West
Okay, so I'd probably pick the Dodgers regardless, because I'm all mushy like that -- but, see, I think they actually have a shot this year. First of all, they don't have much competition: The Rockies suck; the Padres are a .500 team; the Diamondbacks will either be dreadful or untouchable; and the Giants are Barry Bonds, which is not a good thing to be right now. But here's the important thing: Grady Little has declared that in the hour before a game, if a clubhouse television is on, then it will be showing tapes of the opposing team. And since his other rules stipulate that there will be no music over the speakers, and no playing of the cards or dominoes, the players will have no choice but to run out to the field knowing what they're up against.

NL Wild Card
Houston. Unless they win their division, in which case it will be the Cards. Unless Arizona has one of their on-years, in which case it's them. Oh, and unless Jim Tracy works a miracle in Pittsburgh. Heaven knows, he has the incentive.

Post-season

ALDS
Going on sheer momentum, Boston defeats Cleveland in four.

The Yankees defeat Oakland in five. Sorry. They'll also win in five if the Angels take the division, as they probably will, notwithstanding my pick. It won't really matter anyway.

NLDS
Obviously, Atlanta's not moving on. They never think that far ahead. Whoever's playing them wins in four games. The other team will likely be Houston. Again.

Dodgers play the Cards. In the ninth inning of the fifth game, with two outs, Dodgers leading 5-4, Eric Gagne stands on the mound. There are St. Louis runners at second and third. The cleanup hitter is coming to the plate. In the number five slot is some kid who dreams of making it above the Mendoza line.

The dugout phone rings. Grady Little calls for time and picks up the receiver.

"DON'T PITCH TO THE CLEANUP HITTER!!!"

"I wasn't planning to, Mr. Lasorda" Grady says, calmly. "You shouldn't have done it in 1985, either." He hangs up, and flashes the "walk" signal. Gagne rolls his eyes; it's not like anyone really needed to spell this out. He walks the cleanup hitter, strikes out the kid on three pitches, and -- at long last -- all is right in that little corner of the universe.

Sadly, Tommy Lasorda passes away the next day.

ALCS
Boston defeats the Yankees, because karma's a bitch, Steinbrenner.

NLCS
Houston wins in six. Tommy Lasorda is so indignant that he comes back to life and refuses to leave his office all winter.

World Series
Continuing the recent years' parade of unlikely winners, Houston knocks off Boston in six games.

Individual winners
I'm not touching these until the injury reports start coming in. I'll think about it once we see who's staying healthy and who's stepping up to fill in for injured teammates.

Unless some employment falls into my lap, it looks like I'll be free for opening day. Come on, L.A. people. Who's taking me to the game? I'll buy you a Dodger Dog.

This Is Ponderous, Man

2006-03-28T10:49:00.001-08:00

Time for the obligatory prediction entry. This is the one that annualy shows the idiocy of a layman trying to predict sporting outcomes. (How many of you got the Final Four right this year? Hell, I was ecstatic that I correctly "predicted" one of them, especially since I don't follow college basketball at all unless it involves my UConn Huskies.)

For the record, regarding the above parenthetical, I was born in Connecticut and lived close to Storrs. So I have a valid reason for rooting for the Huskies. But enough rhetoric, it's time for the guesses to begin...

Disclaimer: I tend to pick with my heart and not my head. Sue me. And good luck getting any money with that move...

NL Division Winners and Wild Card:
NL East: Atlanta Braves (I'm not picking against them until they show they are mortal)
NL Central: Houston Astros (Even sans Clemens , their pitching is unrivaled)
NL West: LA Dodgers (Counting on a Nomar comeback and a "Little" miracle)
Wild Card: NY Mets (Yeah, right...)

AL Division Winners and Wild Card:
AL East: Toronto Blue Jays (Fingers crossed, even though I'm a Bosox fan by proxy)
AL Central: Chicago White Sox (See note above about Houston's pitching)
AL West: Texas Rangers (And there is the "heart not head" pick)
Wild Card: Oakland A's (Will be tough in this four team division, but possible)

NLDS and NLCS
The Astros and the Mets move on, with Houston prevailing in six games.

ALDS and ALCS
Chicago and Texas ace the first round, but the Sox pummel the Rangers in the ALCS.

World Series
A repeat of 2005... kind of. Chicago will win again, but this time it will take all seven games.

MVPs
NL: David Wright, NY Mets
AL: Mark Teixeira, Texas Rangers

Cy Young
NL: Roy Oswalt, Houston Astros
AL: Johan Santana, Minnesota Twins

Rookie of the Year
NL: Prince Fielder, Brewers (barely edging out the Padres' Josh Barfield)
AL: Brian Anderson, White Sox

Manager of the Year
NL: Grady Little
AL: Joe Maddon (Watch out for the Rays...)

Comeback Player of the Year
NL: Nomah ('Nuff said)
AL: Jim Thome

It took me only a half hour, and one beer, to write this one and I didn't give much thought to it before I started. Didn't want to, really. Talk about going with my heart and not my head...

... but that tactic seems to be working out for me lately.

Devin? I'll see you on Opening Day...

Pre-Season Prognostication

2006-03-28T09:52:00.000-08:00

NL East: The Philadelphia Phillies have a lot of firepower this season, including shortstop Jimmy Rollins. They'll need it to keep the Braves in line.

AL East: Picking this winner is like picking the Best Soundtrack Oscar winner. Sure, there are contenders, but as long as John Williams is live, he'll win the award. As long as the New York Yankees are in operation and George Steinbrenner keeps sacrificing young virgins underneath Yankee Stadium, they'll win the division. (C'mon, Toronto, prove me wrong.)

NL Central: The safe bet is the St. Louis Cardinals. The outside bet is Houston, if Roger Clemens decides to roost there after May. Whichever team raises the Central flag, it won't be my beloved Cubs. The team is simply not moving forward, and will be lucky to finish above .500. Thanks, Tribune Company!

AL Central: The Chicago White Sox may not repeat as World Series champions, but they will repeat as division winners. The Twins will only miss out on the division title by a couple of games, and will wind up as the AL Wild Card representative.

NL West: The hardest division to pick, because the talent level is lower across the board than any other division in baseball. However, with Grady Little building the team back from the ashes, give me the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles.

AL West: As much as I want to pick the Rangers... as much as I want to drink the last sip of Jon Daniels Kool-Aid... as much as I want to look at the rotation... I can't pick against the California Angels.

MVP: Rangers 1B Mark Teixeira
Cy Young: Twins hurler Johan Santana
Rookie of the Year: Seattle catcher Kenji Johjima
Manager of the Year: Nationals skipper Frank Robinson
Comeback Player of the Year: Jeff Bagwell (sentimental pick, because I want to see him beat the "insurance" scam the Astros are trying to run)

Seven Days

2006-03-27T18:11:00.000-08:00

I'm tired of waiting. Yes, I know I'm not the most patient person, but I don't want to talk anymore about the Rangers' off-season moves, the lack of a fifth starter, the iffy injuries, the merit of Jon Daniels' moves, Soriano's outfieldophobia, or anything that isn't in a box score.

The good news is, I only have to wait seven days.

I've been getting calls for the last week asking where my seats are. (See, my friends know that asking whether or not I'm going to the game is just a waste of time.) I did get tickets for an exhibition game on Saturday night, but I'll be working that night. Dammit.

Amanda, my Lovely Betrothed, is as happy about the upcoming season as I am, and will be there for the majority of games with me. Of course, I'd be hard-pressed to match the first game I took her to -- it was a day where I had suite tickets, and ended up hanging out Jon Daniels. She might be a little bit spoiled, but I don't mind so much.

I guess I should try and make a unifying point here, but there really isn't one more than this:

One week from now, I'll be back in Section Five with my Homies. Drinking beer. Screaming for the home team. Loving life.

In Which Rose Has Cause For Optimism

2006-03-26T17:32:00.000-08:00

News flash from Vero Beach: The Dodgers are getting along. I repeat: The Dodgers are getting along.

This was not entirely unexpected; after all, a good portion of the team played together for the Red Sox under new Dodger manager Grady Little. Dodger team owner Frank McCourt has never pretended that the Dodgers were his first choice of team: He first tried to buy the Red Sox, and, when that proved impossible, he bought the team closest to him in and brought Boston to Chavez Ravine. He came close to hiring a Boston GM, too, but he eventually went with someone from the Giants. For about half a second, I was worried that Ned Colletti's presence was proof that the team had been infiltrated by evil baseball fans from San Francisco, but I got better.

The thing I'm liking about Colletti is that he understands the concept of developing players. The Jacksonville AA team is especially packed with talent, and the Vegas AAA team is no collective slouch. Though it must be tempting to rush some of them through the ranks, Colletti has done exactly what he should do: Bring in some veterans to hold down the major league fort for a season or two, until the kids are really ready to take their turn.

The thing I'm not liking about Colletti is that he sometimes shows up with his Giants World Series ring. Yes, it's a World Series ring, and that's something to be proud of -- but, dude. You're with the Dodgers now. Show some sensitivity.

I've read many an article on Grady Little that explains how back when he was managing in single-A ball, the cohesiveness of one of his teams was cemented by a bus accident; and how, in absence of a unifying traumatic effect, he's decided that one big way to cement big-league team chemistry is to have veteran players share their wisdom with younger players. He's got two young catchers, Dioner Navarro and Russell Martin, teamed up with two, well, old catchers, Sandy Alomar, Jr. and Pat Borders. If either of the kids becomes the first Dodger catcher in ages to foil a respectable number of steal attempts, then every penny spent on the veterans will have been worth it.

As a plus, Sandy Alomar, Jr. can actually still play, which is looking more and more likely to be a Good Thing come April: With projected regular starter Dioner Navarro recovering from a hamstring strain, other whiz kid Russell Martin will likely be the primary catcher for the first couple of weeks. Problem: He's not used to playing in major league opening-day chaos. (Heck, he's not even used to playing in AAA opening-day chaos. Or AAA at all, for that matter.) So Little's thinking that it might be a good idea to have an opening-day catcher who won't be freaked out by all the loud sounds and bright lights.

Speaking of veterans, Vin Scully is back for his fifty-somethingth season as a Dodger announcer. He's seen it all, and he'll tell you about it without missing a pitch. Like the players, he's easing back into regular-season form, and if he's not at the absolute top of his game -- well, neither are half of the Dodgers. Vin's pushing 80. What's their excuse?

If any new Dodgers happen to be reading this -- and, really, stranger things have happened -- I have three words of advice: Listen to Vin. Vin can peg a player from a mile away. He can tell the kids a thing or two about what it is they're doing, and mention a few players from the past with similar habits, all while pointing out how the outfield shifts for each of the current players and correctly predicting most of the managerial moves. With one quiet comment at a recent press conference, he got Frank McCourt to promise to return names to the back of Dodger uniforms in 2007. Vin could probably also leap tall buildings in a single bound, out-skate Brian Boitano and cure this nasty headache that seems to have taken over my skull, but he doesn't want to show off.

Anyway, listen if you can. For you non-L.A. types, the local radio station that plays the Dodger games usually simulcasts the telecast for the first three innings. They've started streaming since last year, so I'll put up the link if it turns out to include Dodger games.

If the bullpen stays healthy this year, it should be one heck of a show.

They've Got Your Fix

2006-03-23T11:50:00.000-08:00

Looks like MLB is trying to be the high-rollin' dealer for the jones we all have.

For the third year, they're auctioning off Ultimate Fan Experiences, putting ticket and suite packages together for sale to the highest bidder. The Rangers' first 2006 volleys are four tickets to April 4 or 5 behind home plate, with valet parking and $40 food/beverage credit; or 20 suite tickets to April 4, with valet and $300 food/bev credit.

Time to sell that kidney.

Move On

2006-03-21T08:48:00.000-08:00

My, how different things could have been.

Timing, apparantly, is everything on this site. Just after I wrote about not wanting Barry Bonds to pass Hank Aaron on the all-time homerun list, word came out about the upcoming book on Bonds that fully documents his steroid regimen. I mean, it was a matter of hours after I posted the entry. I felt like I kind of missed the boat.

Today, however, timing appears to be in my favor. Two days ago I wrote about my favorite Opening Day memory (2004). In that entry, I mentioned how the tone of the season was set by Michael Young volunteering early in the spring to switch positions to make room at secondbase for Alfonso Soriano. Again, how different things could have been.

In his two seasons in Texas, there was never a negative word uttered about Soriano by his teammates. In fact, quite the opposite was true. He fit in very well with the "cornerstones" of the organization: Young, Hank Blalock, Mark Teixeira. They raved about the comradery of the entire infield and how everyone got along both on and off the field. Soriano was the model teammate.

Popular with the players in New York, popular with the kids in Texas. However, the common denominator of those situations was that Soriano was bringing his cement glove to secondbase.

So what happens when his new team, the Washington Nationals, asks him to switch positions and play left field? Evidently, only eight players come out of the dugout, including just two outfielders.

This could get very interesting. The ramifications of Soriano's protest could lead, as the article linked to above suggests, to Sori being placed on the "disqualified list". And that, in turn, affects his service time. And that could prohibit him from becoming a free agent after the 2006 season. This is awful messy.

Washington GM Jim Bowden said they would pursue trade opportunities in order to get Soriano on a team that would slot him at secondbase. The downfall is that every other team knows that Bowden's hands are tied, so the offers he has received have been underwhelming. Does anyone now want to question Jon Daniels' handling of Soriano and the fact that we didn't get a major league pitcher in return? And what about Daniels refusing Washington's request to talk to Sori before the trade was consummated? Nothing short of brilliant. And Bowden making the trade anyway? Idiocy.

Meanwhile, on the Rangers, Michael Young returns from his WBC tour of duty to take his position at shortstop. He has had back-to-back All Star Game appearances at the position. He was the AL Batting Leader in 2005. And he continues to be a strong clubhouse presence as his stature among his peers grows astronomically.

My, how different things could have been.

I'll Take The Rain

2006-03-19T12:36:00.000-08:00

The rain came down...

And, boy, did it. Not only that, but it continues to do so for the third consecutive day with no letup in sight. I find myself taking solace in the fact that I can take a nap anytime I want to today... and that Opening Day is two weeks away.

That, combined with Devin's recent entry, has me feeling wistful and nostalgic. So I allowed my mind to wander back to my favorite Home Opener memory. It wasn't long ago. 2004, to be exact.

---

The Ballpark in Arlington (aka The Temple to those in the know) was packed. Standing room only. People greedily scooped up obstructed view seats. It was odd behavior considering the recent seasons when the team was carried to last place finishes on the shoulders of the game's best player.

But 2004 was different. It had a different feel to it. An indescribable vibe that began in Spring Training thanks to the selfless act of a true team player. When Michael Young walked into Buck Showalter's office and announced that he wanted to play shortstop to accomodate new teammate Alfonso Soriano, the tone was set. A-Rod's "kids" became a team. And the fans could feel it.

Even the most optimistic among us found it difficult to imagine this group of young players and no-name pitchers (for the most part) winning 89 games, let alone being in the hunt for the division title into the final week of the season. But leading up to the opener, I could not recall being as excited about watching young players bust their butts since 1986 - Bobby Valentine's first full season as Rangers manager.

And, on a totally personal level, I had another reason to be excited about the 2004 season. Devin had recently recruited me to be a writing contributor on the fledgling DallasBaseballHome.com website. I still consider that to be my first big "break" even if it has yet to manifest itself fully. So I'm sure that contributed to my excitement, but what about the other 50,369 people who were there? They didn't even know I existed. But they knew about the Rangers.

All those things Devin recently described... the sights, the smells, the sounds... were amplified on that April day.

The Anaheim Angels jumped out to an early 3-0 lead thanks to two uncharacteristic errors by Young, playing his first home game as A-Rod's replacement. Soon, however, the kids from Texas fought back. Laynce Nix homered. Gerald Laird and Young doubled. Hank Blalock, three months before he made himself a household name by homering off the untouchable Eric Gagne in the 2004 All Star Game, singled in the go-ahead run.

More scoring ensued, highlighted by dingers from Blalock and the lovable Kevin Mench. By the time the blue-skied afternoon was over, Texas had beaten division favorite Anaheim by a score of 12-4.

Hell, Soriano even made a beautiful diving stop on that day to turn a hit into an out.

Fans went home happy, pleased with these kids. Our team, our kids. We had no idea about the ride this group of tyros was about to treat us to. But on that day, on that absolutely gorgeous, built-for-baseball day, there were things to feel good about. Real good.

---

Guess what? I have that same feeling about 2006... and these might be the longest two weeks of my life because my skin is itching, my heart is racing, and I see line drives when I drift off to sleep at night. I'm ready. And I think the Rangers are, too.

Time to start up that R.E.M. song again.

I knew you when
I loved you then
The summer’s young and helpless.

You laid me bare
You marked me there
The promises we made

- R.E.M., 'I'll Take the Rain'

Senses Working Overtime

2006-03-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

In just over two weeks, the Rangers take on the Boston Red Sawks in the first game of the 2006 campaign. For the first time in years, the Rangers are home for the season opener, and I'm damn near giddy from the prospect of it.

There are clear-cut differences in my perception of the world between when there's baseball being played, and when the off-season is dragging along. I've attempted to note the sensations here.

The Sight. After a long five months with no games, the first time I come around a corner and see that ballpark in Arlington for the first time, a weight lifts off my shoulders. In that moment, something in my brain kicks in lets me know that the New Year is beginning.

The Smell. There's something about the way a ballpark smells on the first game of the year. It's a combination of freshly-cut grass, warm concrete, hot dogs, draft beer, and a dozen other things that probably cause cancer in high doses.

The Sound. It's something that is distinctly baseball, distinctly American. In the second that a wooden bat cracks against a leather-bound baseball, and the crowd starts cheering for the ball to go over the fence, you shed ten years or more. (That is, unless it's the opposing team making the hit, and you gain five years.)

The Anticipation. Even if you've followed the day-to-day events at Spring Training, there are so many unanswered questions leading into the new season. For the Rangers this year, those include, but certainly are not limited to:

How much better will the pitching rotation be?
Who will be the starting outfield?
Is Ian Kinsler just as good at second base as advertised?
Will Francisco Cordero's arm hold up for the entire season?
Can Hank Blalock "take the safeties off" and rev his hitting back up?

That's just me. What are you looking forward to seeing on April 3?

Weighing in...

2006-03-09T19:19:00.000-08:00

I have spent the last 2 weeks in the San Jose/San Franciso area. When the story of the Chronicle reporters getting ready to release their "explosive" (media words there folks) book on Barry "My head is too large for my body" Bonds, I only laughed. No one in thier right mind should be shocked. Check out his 87' Topps card, and compare it to today. Its not the same person. From 87' to today, yeah I weigh much more. But I don't look like I have been shooting up? Nope. Unless you count Krispy Kreme and Carl's Jr.

Barry Bonds is bad for baseball. He has never been approachable. He is not friendly, unless things are going his way. He mocks teams for walking him, but if they were to bean him with the ball, it would fly 500 feet. He has people in his corner pointing out that even if he did shoot up in the 90's it was not against the rules of MLB. Hey Barry, question. Ninjamunkey, talking Sport Blog. If it were illegal, would you have done it? Sure you would. Do kids hope and dream of playing in the majors, but never get signed because assholes like you and your drugs have pushed the bar too high? Everyday.

Don't justify your actions to me. Justification is what junkies do. They can stop at any time. Can you? Can you go without a shot and still break the record?

Yeah, there have been bad guys in ball before. Cobb, Ruth, hell even one of my idols, Mickey Mantle was said to be a drunk ass most of the time. They did not hide it, they did not lay out of the first year of random testing. they drank, they smoked 5 foot cigars, and they played ball. Why couldn't you do the same?

This is just my opinion, I make it up as I go along.

Well, Puck Me

2006-03-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

One of the most tired debates that is centered around professional sports, right after the merits of the "hold" statistic, is whether or not players have an obligation to be "role models" and do we, as fans, have the right to expect them to act as such?

Obviously, the media is much more all-emcompassing than it was in the days of, say, Ty Cobb. So the modern fan is more aware of the fact that Jeff Kent has the reputation of being an asshole than the fans during Cobb's era knew of his penchant for being a genuine son of a bitch.

Fans tend to label athletes while only knowing what they read. Or hear. Or see. But what do we really know?

Lou Reed once "sang" (quotes used because he usually "talks" his lyrics), "Don’t believe half of what you see, and none of what you hear."

Me? I usually trust my gut instinct. And that is why...

Even if Barry Bonds is truly the best homerun hitter of all time, I do not want to see him break Hank Aaron's all-time homerun record. Personally, I think Bonds has set himself up as the "bad guy" on purpose. That way, should he pass Aaron, he can point to all the "adversity" he fought through when his feat is compared to Hank's quest. Sorry, Barry. Not buying it. You prod reporters into conforontations. Aaron got death threats. Will it be long before we hear about Bonds receiving the same? Don't put it past the spin machine.
I was sorry to hear about the passing of Kirby Puckett. However, it hurt more to hear the allegations of abuse from his ex-wife and the accusation of "groping" from another female a few years ago. He was acquitted on the second, and as far as I know, charges were never brought regarding the first. But those are the types of things that stay in the back of my mind... violence against women by anyone is inexcusible in my mind. Spare me the "innocent until proven guilty" rhetoric. I am, after all, human.
With that said, I will never forget how Puckett, along with Tony Gwynn, George Brett, and Cal Ripken Jr., embodied 80's baseball to me. His obvious love of the game, infectious smile, and his atypical baseball body were screaming "Market me!" So, yes, yesterday was a sad day for me. I choose to remember the good on this one.
Notice I left Wade Boggs out of the above trio? That was not by mistake, and remember that I have Red Sox blood in my family.
With the exception of A-Rod, who I think is about as fake as a placebo drug, I am a big fan of all the players that have opted to participate in the World Baseball Classic out of dedication to their country. And let me say this: Even if USA wins this thing? We, as a country, will still be embarrassed by lack of fan support. I really hope that opens some eyes, too, though I am not holding my breath. Our national pasttime is on the verge of being swept away by other countries that recognize the timeless beauty the game entails. We'll be playing PlayStation. Sad.

So, basically, I have spent all of my time writing this straddling the fence regarding the "role model" vs. "guy doing a job" debate. But I also think that is the way to go. Some players embrace the fact that kids (and, yes, some adults) look up to them while others shun it. Likewise, some fans choose to look the other way regarding athletes while others can't get past character flaws.

If you need to reach me, I'll be here - on the fence. Rooting for my hometeam.

Touch Em All

2006-03-06T20:46:00.000-08:00

Less than 24

2006-03-06T14:58:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow afternoon at 4pm the US plays its first game in the World Baseball Classic. The braintrust that is ESPN has decided not to tape delay the game. Unlike the first round in Asia, where the tape delayed games came on after midnight.

I'm guessing that if the ratings stink, which they will due to the lack of interest in baseball by the American public, ESPN will deem it a failure. Instead of showing the games during prime time on one of their 10 channels we get college basketball for 12 hours. Hey look, some guys just ran one way. Wait, now they're running the other way. Lather. Rinse. Repeat about a hundred freakin times.

Back to the WBC. This is long over due and I'm excited. Tomorrow afternoon has 2 great games. Mexico vs USA and Dominican Republic vs Venezuela. I want to see the best players from around the world. Hell, I just want to see baseball. Thank God spring training has started and there is a WBC.

Now let's play two.

Deafening Silence

2006-03-01T21:50:00.000-08:00

The Dallas Observer landed the services of writer Richie Whitt last year, and he's rarely lacking in nuclear sports opinions. In the current issue of DO, Whitt talks to FOX cameraman Larry Rodriguez, and details the penultimate chapter in the Kenny Rogers shoving incident last July. (There's still a misdemeanor charge Rogers has to answer to in Arlington.)

Leemer already addressed the Rogers situation, and I don't have a lot to add to it -- but I have to hope that Kenny was just momentarily nuts. I have to. This was the guy who, a year prior, was a big piece in the Rangers' magical 2004 season, holding forth in the club's Kangaroo Court, being a geezer success story.

Reading about his heartfelt apology to Rodriguez behind closed doors makes me long for something like this to have happened eight months ago, but it's all over now, baby blue. Kenny's pitching for Detroit now, and will face his old club (if things go according to Hoyle) the first week of the 2006 season. People will boo when he's announced in the lineup. Perhaps it will be mixed with cheers. Me, I won't cheer or boo. I'll just sit there in silence.

The same silence Kenny Rogers gave us nine months ago.

Sunday Paper

2006-02-20T18:13:00.000-08:00

Technically, it would be wrong to call the Fort Worth/Dallas Metroplex a "two paper" city. Many years ago, Dallas did have two competing dailies while Fort Worth had the Star-Telegram. (I think Cowtown had two papers at one time, too, but it was well before my time.) Eventually, the Dallas Times Herald went away - leaving their damned classified ad jingle that was played over and over in commercials during afternoon UHF fare stuck in the heads of many - and that left the Dallas Morning News as the "one" voice of Big D.

(Crap. I have to type this out now in the hopes that it won't keep replaying itself in my brain: Call the Dallas Times Herald Classifieds at 748-1414! Does anyone else remember 7-digit dialing? I mean, besides residents of Nevada?)

Anyway, we still had/have two local daily papers that were in fierce competition with each other. Kind of. Obviously, the Dallas Morning News focuses its stories to a Dallas County audience, while the Star Telegram (or "Startlegram" to those who tend to zero in on the paper's propensity for shocking headlines) targets Tarrant County folk.

But the Sports sections should transcend that line, right?

I mean, it's not like people in Fort Worth choose to root for Houston teams in the NFL and the NBA because of a hatred for Dallas. So it would stand to reason that Dallas residents would not harbor ill will due to the fact that the local MLB team plays its home games in Tarrant County, right?

Well, perhaps they don't. But coverage of the Texas Rangers absolutely sucks in the Dallas paper, especially when compared to what the Star Telegram is putting in print every day.

The DMN has some great baseball writers, too. Evan Grant is a definite good and Gerry Fraley has The Great Game running through his veins. But coverage of the Arlington Nine is sporadic at best.

And, even though the FW Star lost its best baseball scribe (T.R. Sullivan) recently to the perfumed inner thigh of the Rangers MLB.com page, their coverage has been as intense as ever, including a daily "quick hit" style Spring Training report.

(The good thing about Sullivan leaving the paper? He gets to write a lot more than he ever did while toiling for the "print media".)

But now it is time for my biggest beef about the baseball columns featured in the above mentioned papers: The stories are damn near mirror images of each other. On the same day, both ran stories about how Hank Blalock feels about being with the team after the failed trade for Josh Beckett. On the same day, both ran profiles of Mark Connor as the new pitching coach. (For the record, though, the Star Telegram seems to get the best quotes - the type that add more to the story.)

Shouldn't two papers mean variety? Except, of course, when it comes to news like Rudy Jaramillo's prostate cancer diagnosis. Repetetiveness like that is understandable. (But the FW Star was the first place I read about Buck Showalter's wife's bout with breast cancer. Where was the DMN on that one? Perhaps they dropped the ball because no writer does a better job at "tug on the heart strings sports stories" than Jim Reeves of the Telegram.)

This kind of anti-Tarrant County coverage will get very interesting when the Dallas Cowboys start playing their games right down the street from the Rangers in 2009. (It is 2009, right?) Will the News continue charging for full access of its online Cowboys coverage?

You bet they will. But you can also bet that the Star Telegram will outdo them... for the modest price of an email address.

Gotta love Fort Worth.

So Full Of It

2006-02-16T18:11:00.000-08:00

I want to hate the White Sox, I really do.

After all, they're the Not Cubs. They're that other team in Chicago, the one I don't root, root, root for. They're the World Series champions, and my Cubs are not.

But damn it all to hell, I love Ozzie Guillen.

The man truly does not give one singular rat's ass what you think of him. And if he has an opinion, you will hear it. (Refreshing in this day and age, when everyone has to walk on broken glass to keep from offending anyone at all.)

My latest reason for loving Oz comes from a recent Sports Illustrated interview, where Guillen blasts Alex Rodriguez for being so damned wishy-washy about his participation in the World Baseball Classic. The greatest amount of ire comes when Alex aligns himself with the Dominican Republic.

"I hate hypocrites: He's full of shit. The Dominican team doesn't need his ass. It's the same with [Nomar] Garciaparra playing for Mexico. Garciaparra only knows Cancun because he went to visit."

Brava, Ozzie. Brava.

Don't let the doorknob hit ya on the way out!

2006-02-15T21:23:00.000-08:00

"Sammy Sosa effectively called it quits Wednesday, ESPN.com's Jayson Stark reports. Sosa didn't formally retire, but his agent said Sosa's career is clearly done -- 12 homers shy of 600."

While 588 homers is a great feat. 2,194 strikeouts in 8,401 at bats isn't. That's 26%. That is also number 2 all-time behind Reggie Jackson. Who also had a 26% strikeout ratio with a staggering 2,597 strikeouts in 9,864 at bats.

If Sammy Sosa makes it to the Hall of Fame it will be for the power numbers and not much else. I lost respect for him on two occasions. Once when testifying before Congress on the steroid issue, he acted as if he couldn't speak English and brought an interpretor. He may speak in broken English but he isn't that stupid. Nice act. The other occured when he was still in Chicago. It was the last game of the 2004 season and he had already packed his stuff and didn't dress out for the game. Now that is a class act.

He, like many power hitters, was very overrated. Give me a guy with a great average with runner's in scoring position that is a real team player. Even on the last day of the season.

Baseball Pimpadelic

2006-02-13T23:32:00.000-08:00

Pitchers and catchers report tomorrow. TOMORROW! Glee.

You folks are, for the next moment, a highly-focused target audience. Lemme use that to my advantage.

What would you want to hear from a podcast focused on your favorite team and sport?

Interviews with your team's general manager?
Manager?
Players?
Media?
Fans?
Historians?

Would you want analysis of upcoming games? A breakdown of your division?

Would you want to be able to submit questions in advance?

Yes, I have a specific reason for this, and you can pretty much suss out what it is. So, lemme know what you want. I know what I would want to hear (see: all of the above), but prioritizing it is hard for me. Your input is invaluable.

Tomorrow!

The Corner of Michigan and Trumbull

2006-02-04T08:28:00.000-08:00

In 2000, Marty and I went to Detroit to see one of the final games at Tiger Stadium. It was the Mets and Brewers facing off, in a late-season match-up that really didn't mean anything in the standings, but meant everything to the fans in attendance. One of the great old ballparks was going away after seventeen more games.

To be frank, it didn't have to. Tiger Stadium, as far as I could tell, was just as viable as Fenway Park or Wrigley Field. (I prefer Tiger Stadium to Fenway, to be even more frank. Send your flaming e-mail my way.) But the owners were bound and determined to get a new ballpark, so they built Comerica Park down the road, and left Tiger Stadium to rust.

The ultimate fate of Tiger Stadium is a sore spot for Motor City residents and city council folk. There's been little activity there since the park's closure outside Billy Crystal's crew filming '61*' there in 2001, using it as a stand-in for old Yankee Stadium with CGI enhancements.

This weekend, the Super Bowl plays at Ford Field in Detroit, and Budweiser leased out the park for two nights. It's an invitation-only pair of concerts, with Snoop Dogg on Friday night and 3 Doors Down on Saturday. The only baseball being played will be by costumed production flaks tossing a ball around in the outfield.

I'm sure the parties will be a huge hit, but I would rather be one of the wonks getting to play catch on that hallowed ground.

Let The Idiot Speak

2006-02-02T05:51:00.000-08:00

Here are a couple of quotes that I just heard from a replayed radio interview:

"I'm not the smartest guy in the world."

"I was under the bus most of the time."

The speaker? Kenny Rogers, former Texas Ranger and current Detroit Tiger. Our D/FW all sports station, the greatness that is The Ticket, somehow acquired the audio from an interview that Rogers actually participated in on a Detroit station.

In the interview, Rogers was at his best. He was very soft spoken, demure even, and came off sounding like a very harmless person. After all, he is nothing but a soft tossing forty-something pitcher. However, he is also a lefty and lefties have a reputation of being a little wacky. Much of that stereotype can be attributed to former Expo and Red Sox pitcher Bill "Spaceman" Lee, because he seemed to love to perpetuate the myth until it became closer to "fact", but Lee might have been on to something.

(When I saw Kenny's attack on the cameraman, I was reminded of a scene from the movie 'The Jerk'. Navin Johnson (Steve Martin) is working at a gas station as a sniper takes aim at him from across the street. But the sniper keeps missing his target, instead popping bullets into oil cans. Finally, Navin exclaims "He hates these cans!" So when Kenny went nuts, I imagined notable local media members scurrying around the field shouting "He hates these cameras!" Hey, it could have happened.)

So what happened to Kenny Rogers that made him snap? What caused him to become a big bully, transforming from quiet guy (Bruce Banner?) into the Incredible Sulk?

Radio. Talk radio, to be exact.

In the above mentioned interview, Rogers kept obliquely referring to disparaging comments he was hearing about his performance (and, presumably, contract demands). "Untruths", he called them. The Detroit interviewer dutifully tried to make the pitcher get specific. "Well, we know what you did. What did they do?"

Rogers again tip-toed around actual moments that he could put into words. Instead, he said his "biggest mistake" was listening to the radio on his way to the park in the days leading up to the incident. And, again, he never mentioned a specific phrase, station, or "untruth" that set him off.

In other words, he is just an ass.

So let this be a warning to the Detroit folk: Don't fall for it. Don't think of him as the strawberry picking teenage shortstop drafted by the Rangers in 1982. Think of him as a guy who has continually made bad business decisions over the course of his career based on an inflated sense of self-worth. Think of him as a guy who cannot handle media pressure well. (Remember his New York stint?) And think of him as a guy, because of those bullet points, with a chip on his shoulder.

And hope that you do not have a camera on yours.

-----

Finally, here is something I would love to see happen, but it would have to be done by someone who has a very good chance of running into Kenny Rogers. If you are that person, and you don't mind schticking things up a bit, take heed because this is directed at you.

Carry a Duracell battery in your pocket at all times. Preferably a D cell, though a C would work, too.

Try to position yourself in a stable standing position as Rogers approaches. Place the battery on your shoulder. (Rolling up your shirt sleeves is optional.)

When Rogers nears, say "I dare you to knock this battery off my shoulder. I dare you."

And when you win your personal injury lawsuit? Please remember where you got the idea.

13 days...

People will come Ray...

2006-02-01T05:54:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make, I am a baseball junkie. In 2 short weeks, Pitchers and Catchers report for spring training. That is when it all becomes real. I have already started shopping for a new jersey, hat, and other related baseball wear. I read every article, webpage, blog, minor league report, major league report, news story, anything I can find about the great game.

Last year, I did not get to attend one game. Mainly it was a timing issue, I was working for my company starting in May, putting in 60 hours plus per week. Prior to that, I had a commute to another company that took most of my lifeline. We also had a almost 2 year old that I did not think would react very well to sitting in the stands for 2 plus hours with nothing to do. Granted, he loves his "go-go" men.

I did not get to see the field in its 3D glory. The green grass shimmering in the Texas heat. The smell of onions and hot dogs roasting. The way that a beer, even at 5 bucks or more, is the coldest, sweetest thing in the world when your at the ballpark. I did not get a chance to hear Chuck Morgan announce the players, and the rest of the staff. I did not get to watch a Dot Race.

Now, I am having baseball withdrawl. I think of the way I feel when reading box scores, or watching highlights on SportsCenter. I think of how funny it is to me to be able to sit and watch a Rangers telecast, while people mock me for watching something so "boring". To me, it is as exciting as anything I know. For the most part.

The Slump Buster

2006-01-30T21:53:00.000-08:00

Several years ago Mark Grace, former Cub and Diamondback, was interviewed by Jim Rome. The topic was the slump buster. Basically, the slump buster is for players that are in a major funk. A pitcher that can't get guys out or a batter that is mired in a horrible zero for infinity.

The player will go out with fellow teammates and they will urge him to pick up the ugliest woman in the joint. Then have sex with her. Consentually, of course. This practice must work since it has been employed for many years.

One of the ultimate slump buster cases recently came to a close when ex-pitcher Denny Neagle plead guilty to patronizing a prostitute. After his arrest, his contract was terminated by the Colorado Rockies within 3 days. For the Rockies to terminate the contract of a pitcher, when no one wants to pitch there, is remarkable. It is clear where they draw the line. No paying for slump busters! Get them for free at clubs or hotel bars.

The worst part is that this occured in December. Not during the season. That must have been one hell of a slump.

Via Chicago

2006-01-29T10:21:00.000-08:00

Last night, I got to witness the first sign that we are oh so close to the point in which we will read the sweetest four word phrase in the English language: Pitchers and catcher report.

Take this journey back in time, a mere 12 hours ago or so, with me...

While hanging out with friends last night to celebrate a birthday, we ended up at a local sports bar (well, it's actually a "nightspot" that calls itself a sports bar) for after dinner drinks and people watching. Unfortunately, there was a fight being broadcast last night, hence getting a table was completely out of the question. So our party found a spot to stand somewhat unobtrusively while waiting for a group, any group, to leave.

The funny thing is that I didn't even really notice the big screen TV we were standing next to until baseball came into the equation.

A scrawny dude, wearing a Chicago Cubs cap, suddenly took control of the DVD player connected to the TV. Apparantly he was having what was previously a friendly discussion with a White Sox fan who was much bigger than the Cubbie guy, as well as bigger than me. Cubbie evidently felt compelled to play a PC-burned DVD for the Chisox guy as his big closing argument.

I was surprised, yet pleased, to see what is part of local folklore on the big screen. An event that is larger-than-life, but also verifiable because it was captured by many cameras and played over and over on ESPN and local FW/D affiliates, as well as local affiliates nationwide.

Nolan Ryan stood on the mound, started his windup, emitted his patented grunt, and freaking nailed Robin Ventura of the White Sox. The 28 (right?) year old Ventura calmly dropped his bat, tossed the helmet, and charged the 42 (right?) year old Advil pitchman. Nolan, in his best hockey imitation, dropped his glove and strode (yup - not ambled, not walked, but "strode") forward like an Old West lawman who knew he was about to administer a lesson.

Suddenly, Ventura was in a headlock, rendered helpless by a hog tying move straight out of any cowboy movie scene except for those in 'Brokeback Mountain'. Then the punches came, straight to the White Sox noggin. After several landings from the "old" pitcher, the fight was broken up. Ventura was ejected and Nolan was allowed to stay in the game.

And the legend grew larger at that instant. Forget the no-hitters, the strike out record, the one-hitters and two-hitters, too. Nolan Ryan, the man with the ageless right arm, suddenly became more famous for his left fist. Hall Of Fame pitcher? Strike Out King? The Ryan Express? All of those accolades are cool, but I think the vast majority in these parts prefers Texas Bad Ass.

After the scene was over, Chisox (who was standing right next to me) asked Cubbie, "Yeah. So what does that prove?"

Cubbie: "Never mess with Texas!" (Good one, dude. And, by the way, if you're going to tuck your shirt in? Wear a belt.)

I decided to egg on the debate a little at this point. I told Chisox, "Hey, just remind him that your team won the World Series last year. Scoreboard, yo." Sadly, he was way too drunk to even know that I was talking to him. Meanwhile, my friend Ali is making eye contact with me and motioning for me to move away from these two guys.

At the other end of the spectrum, there was my girlfriend (first time I've ever typed that) in the background chanting "Jerry! Jerry!" but nothing happened. At least not yet.

When the Chi-dudes walked off, Nathan and I were talking about Cubbie and his little collection of PC-burned DVDs. 'The Natural', 'Bull Durham', and 'Major League' - all stacked on the TV stand. I remarked, "Sadly, that little guy is our target audience."

A few minutes later, there was a commotion at the entrance of the bar. Cubbie had decided to "attack" Chisox. I put that word in quotes because it was actually quite comical. Cubbie, who might have weighed 115, had jumped up and put his arms around the neck of 200 pound Chisox. (Apparantly he had not learned the correct hog tying technique because it looked more like a scared Johnny Carson jumping into the arms of Ed McMahon when the tiger snarled at the host.) Like the Nolan and Ventura tussle, this one was broken up quickly and the extremely drunk Chisox was shown the exit.

But I swear that I heard the two of them yelling "18 days! 18 days!"

Well, fellas, it is 17 now...

Money

2006-01-23T17:22:00.000-08:00

Moneyball, actually.

When that book, the lovefest dedicated to the wacky genius of Oakland GM Billy Beane, came out in 2003, I bought it. Not the theory, mind you, just the book. I read it in two days and was really interested in the way the 2002 Amateur Draft was conducted for the A's. Guys sitting around with laptops in pre-draft meetings, pulling out stats of players that the scouts in the room had either never heard of or been unimpressed with, while King Billy moved these "virtual" players up on the draft board.

When I was done reading the book, I made a mental note to revisit that Oakland draft class a few years later to see just how "genius" Billy was. And that time is now, starting with rounds 1 through 5.

One would think that with four first round picks, plus three supplemental first round picks, the player haul would be pretty impressive, right? Yes - the draft is hit-or-miss and there are several "can't miss" prospects who flame out before their career even begins. But King Billy is a genius, right? Well, you be the judge.

The numbers below represent the round in which the player was taken, followed by a brief synopsis of the players' progress based on stats at The Baseball Cube.

1. Nick Swisher. The prototype "deep stats" guy. Made it to the big club as a late season call-up in his third minor league season. His career minor league BA was an unimpressive .261, but he did reach base at a .381 clip and slugged .476, resulting in a respectable .857 OPS. Not a terrible pick by any means, but one might certainly expect better from their top overall pick. Started 2005 in AAA but ended up playing 131 games with Oakland (.236 BA, .322 OBP, .446 SLG, .768 OPS). Again, not terribly impressive, but it was his first extended big league look.

1. Joseph Blanton. The RHP chosen due to the loss of Jason Giambi to the Yankees. A nice pick, too. Appeared in 3 games for the A's in 2004 before starting 33 games in 2005 while posting a 12-12 record and a very nice ERA of 3.53. Nothing wrong with this guy.

1. John McCurdy. Two full seasons in A-ball, with a quick promotion to AA in 2004. However, 2005 was spent back in single A. This shortstop holds career minor league numbers of .256, .307, .361, .668 .

1. Ben Fritz. Pitched in a total of 20 games above A-ball. Cumulative minor league ERA of 4.81 while allowing 245 hits and 104 walks in 237.2 innings.

1. Jeremy Brown. The "fat" catcher. The homerun he hit in the epilogue of the book was a supposed selling point as to just how smart Billy Beane and his laptop army were. He had his best season last year at AA, hitting .261 with a .359 OBP while slugging 20 homeruns. It was his third consecutive season at AA after being rushed rather quickly through the early minors.

1. Steve Obenchain. Spent the last year and a half throwing to Brown at AA Midland. Career minor league ERA of 4.00 while allowing 277 hits in 259 innings. He has struck out 173 batters and only walked 86, but it remains to be seen if he can move further up the ladder.

(Keep in mind I am making these judgements with only a computer. Coincidence?)

1. Mark Teahen. The last of the 2002 first-rounders, he spent last season playing 130 games for the Kansas City Royals while posting a pedestrian line of .246, .309, .376, .685.

2. Steve Stanley. He appeared to be overmatched in the 74 games he played in at the AAA level in 2004 and ended up spending the full 2005 season back in AA while putting up his best numbers yet. However, he is an outfielder that does not hit for power or steal bases. Oh... wait. No one in the A's organization steals bases. The risk is frowned upon.

3. Bill Murphy. Spent 2005 pitching for the AAA affiliate of the Arizona Diamondbacks. He apparantly suffers from "Common Name Syndrome".

4. John Baker. The second catcher taken by the A's in 2002, he had a dismal 2005 at AAA Sacramento (.234, .303, .364, .667). But his worst line, as far as King Billy's way of thinking goes, is that he only walked 30 times while whiffing 90 times. Oh, and he also suffers from "CNS".

5. Mark Kiger. Had a cup of coffee at AAA in 2004, then he spent the entire 2005 season back in AA. His career OBP is 98 points higher than his BA. However, his career SLG is only 10 points higher than his OBP.

I don't normally get this "stat intensive" when I write about the great game, but this is an idea that has been in the back of my mind for almost three years. I'll run through rounds six plus of that famous 2002 Oakland draft class later this week. And then I'll get back to being goofy.

22 days...

World Class Citizen

2006-01-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

On Friday, White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen became a US citizen.

From World Series winner to US citizen, I'd say that Mr. Guillen is having a pretty good run. So, here's to him and all his hard work.

Attention whore traded to Baltimore, pitcher thrown in deal

2006-01-22T00:04:00.000-08:00

The NY Mets traded model/actress Anna Benson and her husband, starting pitcher, Kris Benson to the Baltimore Orioles for reliever Jorge Julio and John Maine. While on paper this appears to be an even trade Baltimore may end up on the winning of this deal.

Baltimore gets a hot looking woman to ad to its city. Which I'm sure can't hurt. It is Baltimore after all. But they also get a decent starting pitcher.

While I'm not against hot looking women. I'm just not partial to the nutty ones. Anna's antics are not of the typical players wife variety. Once she stated that if Kris was ever unfaithful to her then she would sleep with the players and the coaches and bat boys and the dudes that sell beer in the bleachers. Okay, not the beer vendors but she did mention the others.

Now if Kris were to be unfaithful then that should be a problem that they settle between the two of them. She shouldn't bring in the whole team for some crazy assed All Star gang bang just for revenge. She should be civil and do what most women in that position would do. Take all his shit in the divorce. Not that many of the players would turn down the sex though.

Back to the trade. The amusing part of it is that she said this at the press conference, "I kind of feel like we were misled about this as a family," Anna Benson said. "It was a free-agent year. He could have signed anywhere."

Misled? Kris signed a three year contract without a no trade clause. So guess what happens when they want to get a middle reliver, Jorge Julio, and at the same time rid themselves of a "model/actress." That's right, trade them.

The upside is that Kris will have an opportunity to be the number one starter which never would happen in New York. And Anna will probably be the best looking woman in Baltimore since Divine is dead and again it's Baltimore after all.

Note: After reading some of Anna's website I found that they have a home in Atlanta which is where I live. We have plenty of hot women so I'm sure she's not noticed here. So Baltimore will really need her.

In Which Rose Recommends A Book

2006-01-19T20:39:00.000-08:00

"You never know what's going to save you..."

Everybody should read John Albert's Wrecking Crew: The Really Bad News Griffith Park Pirates. It's a simple story, really: Sex (some with hookers), drugs (name it), rock 'n' roll (heavy on the punk), and the redemptive power of baseball. Join writer, occasional punker and recovering addict John Albert as he and his buddies cobble together a team of exactly the sort of people you'd never think of as likely to form a baseball team in the L.A. parks league -- and read it before the movie comes out (yes, it's in the works), because this is a great piece of writing. It's the sort of story that really needs to be told by someone who's lived it, because I don't think anyone outside of the crew would have been able to paint such a complete picture. No words have been minced, and judging from their presence at the event at which I met them last summer, the team members wouldn't have it any other way.

Give it a try. Let me know what you think.

(Bonus points if you buy it at your local independent book store. If you're not sure where that is, check Book Sense.)

Confession

2006-01-19T20:35:00.000-08:00

My name is Tony. I'm 35 years old, am a flaming heterosexual and hate the taste, smell and sight of beer. The consumate baseball fan normally enjoys a hotdog and a beer. But alas I can not drink the mixture of marley, hops, oats and urine. I have tried to enjoy many beers. From Bud to Miller to Michelob to Rolling Rock to Heiniken to Bass to Guiness, etc. There is something in the beer, some horrible ingredient, that does not agree with my innerds.

Now I do enjoy a good strong drink with Vodka or Tequila. But it's not the manliest of drinks to be throwing back Margaritas at the old ballpark. Which I have done and had to stop in the 5th or 6th inning when I realized that I didn't know the score or the inning.

I look on in envy of my fellow men and women that drink beer at the ballpark. I don't envy the $6 to $10 that they pay but I'm sure it dulls some of the pain. Especially when you sit right next to the guy that has no clue about baseball. Yet explains it to his girlfriend for the entire game thereby making your head want to explode.

So next time you see me in the cheap seats at Turner Field raise your cup and salute me. For I am the one that is not drinking your share. And don't laugh when I raise my drink and the umbrella falls out of the cup.

Idle Threat or the New Cuban Imbecile Crisis

2006-01-18T20:52:00.000-08:00

The first shot was fired over the World Baseball Classic bow by everyone's favorite dictator, Fidel Castro. I know you're thinking, "Isn't he dead, yet?" Well, he's not. You would think that smoking Cuban cigars for 50 years might do some harm but it must be medicinal marijuana to dull the pain that is his brain.

Today, Fidel comes out with this nugget of joy. "We aren't afraid of anything," Castro said in a wide-ranging speech late Tuesday. "It's very difficult to compete against us in any area ... not even in baseball do they want to compete with Cuba."

Fidel may be on to something here. We can't compete with Cuba when it comes to technology. Our 1950 automobiles can't float across the ocean with 30 people on it. Our televisions don't transmit in black and white and in mono sound. So he may be right about that one.

As for baseball, it's doubtful that any player from our major leagues to minors to college level would not want to play against the best from any country. Personally, Cuba should be allowed to participate. But if I were Fidel, I'd worry more about the defectors. Hasn't he learned from past experiences that the Cubans want to play in America. We are the land of the free. The "home of the long term contract*"

Once in America the players may take the field with "Defector" on the back of their jerseys instead of their actual name. This would also give the Yankees another reason to hike their payroll after they signed the entire team to multi-year deals.

In closing and in summation, America is not scared of Cuban baseball players and neither are any of the other teams. Fidel is attempting to take pot shots and run his mouth so that his teams can play with the big boys. Let them play and hopefully they'll get beaten like the oppressed peoples that they are.

* "home of the long term contract" Copyright by Scott Boras, LLC. (not really but someday it may be true)

Update: Cuba gets to come to America.

No Pepper Games

2006-01-18T10:56:00.000-08:00

* Jon Daniels' big winter adventure continues, as the Texas Rangers came to terms with four of its seven arbitration-eligible players. The biggest news was Mark Teixeira's two-year deal, but the sum of the work Daniels' team did with the group impressed me the most. Both Teixeira and Brad Wilkerson are Scott Boras clients. I may be reading too much into it, but that Boras was willing to deal readily with the Rangers on both gives me a little bit of hope for 2008, when Tex's next contract comes due.

Kevin Mench's arbitration hearing will be the toughest thing for Daniels to deal with next. With all of the frustration Mench has had in contract dealings with the Rangers in the past, I'm willing to bet it won't be a pretty conversation. Civil, but not pleasant. I really hope they work something out for a decent amount of time -- not just from a blind fan's standpoint, but from a stats perspective as well. Shrek produces from anywhere in the order you place him, and his fielding has only gotten better while he's been roving the outfield.

* The fine, upstanding young men and women who make up Hank's Homies have a petition site up to try and convince Roger Clemens to make Arlington his home for the remainder of his career. RangersForRocket.com had over 300 signatures at last glance, and with the pub the site got from the Star-Telegram today, that number should sky-Rocket! Rock me.

* I know I should be more excited about the coming inaugural World Baseball Classic, but I'm simply non-plussed about it all. I guess a lot of it has to do with the Alex Rodriguez circus. "Will he play?" "What country will he play for?" "What did he have for lunch?" Spare me. I hope I can get into it more once the tournament kicks off. The concept is sound, and I hope it will kill off the goofy-ass Home Run Derby trickery of "North America Against The World." Blergh.

* I do occasional work for Jamey Newberg, getting his annual Bound Edition book ready for prime time. I'm trying to drag him into more ventures, and my latest bright idea is developing a podcast for NewbergReport.com. My hope is that it will be a good combination of his insight into the Rangers' organization, and interviews with players and staff. More details as it gets closer to launch in the next couple of weeks.

* My big wish for the 2006 season (other than an ALCS berth for the Rangers) is a complete lack of steroid drama. The 2005 post-season was an amazing one, and yet all I can remember is Rafael Palmiero wagging his fingers at the Congressional dog and pony show in March. I almost typed, "With luck, players will figure out how to stay off the juice," but the tears from my hearty laughter were too hard to ignore.

* 28 days.

1987

2006-01-13T05:20:00.000-08:00

We were in the grocery store, and I saw them. A small package, the size of a deck of playing cards, only thinner. The wrapper was green, and on the front was a large baseball and the bold red words TOPPS on the front. I asked my dad if I could have them, and after hearing how his mother has thrown out his baseball cards when he was a kid, he let me get a pack.

We were driving back home, and those days, it took about 30 minutes to get home from the grocery store, as we lived far outside the convience line. I held the waxy paper package in my hand, turning it over and over. It was like a puppy or something. I am not sure why I had such a connection to that package of baseball cards, but it was something I cherished. I pulled the seam apart in the back, and looking up at me, surrounded by yellow and blue statistics was a pink piece of, well I wasn't sure what it was, it was slightly chalky looking, and was stiffer than the cards it was pressed against. The smell that hit me was one of my now favorites, right up there with leather glove oil, playdoh, and my sons shampooed head. It makes my stomach do little butterfly rolls. I took the gum stick from the center of the cards and tried to fold it into my mouth like I did with Juicy Fruit. It shattered like a piece of glass, but dammit, I was going to chew it anyway. I remember wondering if this was the same gum that the big leaguers were chewing in the dugouts.

That first pack of cards was like meeting new friends. As my life got tougher as I grew up, I would escape to my room, and organize my cards in ways that made sense to me. I know now this was the beginnings of my OCD training, as I had stacks organized by team, then broken down by year. I would not think of wrapping them in rubber bands, oh no, they had to be treated nicer than that, so I would wrap them in bits of saran wrap from my mom's kitchen.

The first 100 or so cards fit nicely in a red plastic pencil box. I did not have any friends that collected baseball cards, and did not understand the appeal to me. I did meet a man named Randal, who was really old to me at the time, but looking back was probably 20-22. He and I would go and pour over the baseball cards, and he would try to get me to trade him cards like my Darryl Strawberry allstar, or my Wade Boggs card that showed him walking across the field in such a way that I imagined he had a swagger like John Wayne.

This was long before we got cable, so the games I got to see were limited to what they showed on channel 11. We didn't really get the somewhat local channels very well, so my earliest memories are trying to listen to the game on radios. I did not know how the players depicted on the cards played, but they were my buddies. I did not collect them for the monetary value, only for the value that I found in having so many friends.

In highschool, I had a shop project to build a showbox for the 4H club to use when they showed cattle. I spent days working on that box, and it was perfect. Not for some damn cow, but for my cards.

I still have a lot of those cards, they are in my attic. Probably not in the best boxes, some of them might be a little airtight, and some of them are in plastic binders. Some of my cards were thrown out when I went to the Marines, and some have been bound with rubberbands, hairties, and other things they should not be, mainly because my mother thought it would help. But I still have them, and can point out several of my very first cards, because I spent so much time with them. This is how baseball was born to me

True Devotion

2006-01-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

I've realized something: It is damned hard to write something original about baseball in early January, especially when there has been virtually no new news, excluding the Hall of Fame voting. (And, frankly, I find that talk getting a little old.)

Then, miraculously, I received an email yesterday from someone who covers minor league baseball for a major publication with this little nugget in it:

I have found that for whatever reason, Rangers fans seem to be a very devoted breed (maybe that's only because I like to occasionally lurk at Jamey Newberg's site) ...

That made the light bulb in my head flicker for an instant. I thought about that. Even slept on it. Woke up thinking about it. Pondered the thought over a nice Whataburger breakfast. Finally, once it fully registered, my brain converted what was typed in the email to this:

Jamey Newberg, along with his cadre of contributors and followers, has made it ok (and borderline cool) to be an overt fan of the Texas Rangers.

We used to have to kind of slink in the shadows, playing the shrinking violet to the machismo of the over abundant football fans in this gridiron state. While they were boasting about Super Bowls, we were always pining for next year. To this day, to see all the Cowboys coverage at the website of the Dallas Morning News, payment is required. Rangers news? Free.

But the best Rangers coverage comes from a lawyer who played baseball at the University of Texas. A guy who built a niche for himself by focusing on the Texas farm system. A man who posts his thoughts with no thought of financial gain, but purely for the love of the game. Someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, whether he is talking about outfield prospects or the band Jellyfish.

The Newberg Report has become a daily staple for thousands of baseball fans in North Texas, not to mention those in the towns that host Rangers minor league teams.

Jamey is the perfect balance of optimism and reason. After the Kevin Millwood signing, the local papers and talk shows immediately focused on Roger Clemens. The implication was that, despite the completely overhauled starting rotation, the offseason will be a bust unless Jon Daniels (and Tom Hicks) somehow lands Big Rog. Even one of my favorite weekly reads, Jennifer Floyd Engel's 'Little Balls of Hate', ends virtually every column with the following words: Sign Roger Clemens.

Newberg, however, put his thoughts much more eloquently in his open letter to Roger Clemens. It was a true sales pitch, and a damned good one, that was devoid of the idea that a failure to get Rajah would make this offseason fruitless.

I have said many times that Bobby Valentine and Tom Grieve saved baseball in the D/FW metroplex. Tom Schieffer didn't do too bad, either, in his steadfast promotion of the game. The city of Arlington has also played a major role in keeping interest alive. And having such great radio play-by-play men through the years (the late Mark Holtz, Eric Nadel with his wealth of baseball and pop culture knowledge) has been a true blessing.

But it's funny how one email - or one little throwaway line in an email - can make a truth shine through.

So here's to you, Jamey Newberg, for doggedly giving us readers the news of the day. For spilling your guts to us. For the emotional highs and lows you have expressed. For being yourself. And, lastly, for making it ok to be a fan of the Texas Rangers.

One more thing...

Let me be the first to suggest (as far as I know of, anyway) that there will be a day in the future when we will have the pleasure to see Jamey Newberg inducted into the Texas Rangers Hall of Fame.

See? It always comes back to Hall of Fame talk...

In Which Rose Has Some Questions, Asked In The Form Of An Open Letter

2006-01-11T21:04:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. President,

Hi. Can I call you George? Well, really, it's my open letter, so I can call you anything I want. Hi, George!

It's no secret that you and I don't see eye-to-eye on most things. But if there's one thing we can agree on, it's baseball. I mean, you like it enough that you had part-ownership in a team for a while there, and I like it enough that I write for a blog. But if I had a few hundred million dollars in family oil money, I'd totally buy a team! And I wouldn't run it into the ground while I was at it!

Okay, cheap shot. I know. How were you to know that Sammy Sosa would turn out to be good?

So here we are, on the verge of the World Baseball Classic, and now it might not happen. Why? Because of Cuba. More specifically, because you and your administration don't like Fidel Castro. Oh, you can't remember why, exactly; something about forms of suppression and surveillance that you pretty much copied and elaborated in your interpretation of the PATRIOT Act. But that's an issue for another blog, and another cheap shot to boot. I'm really not doing myself any favors.

Anyway, you and your friends have decided that the Cuban national team shouldn't be given a permit to play in the U.S., and I think I know why. It's not because you have issues with the Cuban government.

It's because you're scared.

Yeah, that's right. You read me right. I'm calling you out. You're scared. You're scared of America getting its ass kicked fair and square. Hey, I can't say I blame you; I mean, the US couldn't even make the Olympics last time. That was pretty embarrassing. And who won that gold medal? Cuba. Who's going to win next time? Oh, wait, that's right -- there won't be any baseball in the 2008 Olympics. The WBC is a chance to show that baseball is at least as worthy of Olympic inclusion as, say, team handball, but this could shatter the international baseball community like... I don't know, like an over-used pitching elbow or something. I'm still working on the analogy.

Point is, for someone who claims to like baseball, you're not doing the sport any favors. Come on, dude. Everyone else can put the politics aside in their quest for world domination. Why not you?

Just wondering,
Rose

PS. Cuba has offered to donate any WBC proceeds to Hurricane Katrina victims. Wow, now you're screwing over a sport and your fellow Americans! How efficient!

PPS. Um, God bless America, o beautiful for purple skies, rah rah land of the free and home of the brave-ish. Can't wait to see the FBI file that's opened on me as a result of this. I'll get to work on that Freedom of Information Act request form right away. Smooches!

PPPS. Seriously, I'm working on that new design. Honest!

'It's That Smell... That Hot Dog Smell...'

2006-01-09T14:09:00.000-08:00

"Are you as ready as I am?"

John asked that question at the end of his last entry, and I smiled at it.

For me, the calendar year begins on January 1st, but the new year doesn't officially start until that wonderful day in mid-February, when pitchers and catchers report to spring training. (For the Texas Rangers, that's February 15. Position players report five days later. Your nugget of knowledge for the day.)

It's a testament to my baseball-centric world, but the new season is the real harbringer of change, the sign that it's time to shake off everything that happened in the previous year,
and the signal to start revving your engines with overly anxious predictions that This Will Be Their Year.

For Rangers fans, the off season was a bit off-kilter. The team was out of it from a July stretch of 12 losses in 14 games. Then, a few moves made us raise our eyebrows. Chan Ho Park? Gone to San Diego (and not into the woodchipper I wanted him to fall into in 2004). Kenny Rogers? Check the undercard. John Hart? Relegated to the golf course.

Then, the Jon Daniels-driven wheeling and dealing sessions started. Gone were Chris Young, Alfonso Soriano, Adrian Gonzales and Ricardo Rodriguez, magically transformed into Kevin Millwood, Adam Eaton, Vincente Padilla, Akinori Otsuka, and Brad Wilkerson.

I simply cannot remember a pre-season period where I've felt this good about the Rangers' chances. Yes, I know -- World Series berths are not won in December. Bite me.

The mantra Jon Daniels recited during his press meetings after taking over the reigns was "aggressive and creative." The club has been exactly that in working the off-season bingo games. It's now time to see if the unspoken word in that credo works: "productive."

I love it. God help me, I do love it so.

As some good friends of mine would remind me, "37 days."

Hand In Glove

2006-01-05T07:45:00.000-08:00

Yes, I did watch the Rose Bowl last night. Sure, it was riveting. One of the best football games that I've ever seen. And yeah, I was happy that Texas won. So guess how I spent my morning?

I started gearing up for the World Baseball Classic. After all, the first pitch will be in Japan on March 3 and I have a lot to learn until then.

A few things jumped out at me, however, after reading the WBC FAQ page and checking out the (potential) rosters of all the teams:

Poor Andruw Jones, representing The Netherlands. But what a cool thing for his WBC teammates to take the field with him.
All this talk about whether or not Cuba can participate confuses me on many levels because I am just a caveman, thus unfamiliar with your modern ways. But the main question I have is, if Cuba does not participate, which country steps in to fill the empty slot in that bracket?
The round robin tournament style intrigues me, but the single elimination rounds are what I am looking forward to the most. One game to decide who moves on to the semi-finals and then one game to see who wins it all. Back-to-back Game Sevens, really. Perfect.
One scary thought about the first two rounds, in which each team plays the others once and the top two teams move on: "Tiebreaking methods for Rounds 1 and 2 will be announced prior to the start of the tournament." It's kind of sad to think that they might have to resort to the football-like process of checking stats to decide who moves on. And which ones will they choose? Total runs? ERA? Star-factor? I say add another "Game Seven".
Pitch-limits? I can live with that, I guess. But they are also instituting the "mercy rule". Now that has the potential to be interesting.
I must have missed the announcement that Buck Martinez was selected to manage the United States team. Yes, he is a quality "baseball guy" and a pretty good manager, but I wish they would have picked someone with a little more pizzazz.
On second thought, considering the way the rest of the world views Americans now (speaking in generalities), Martinez might have been the perfect choice to represent our country.
On a disappointing note, I saw that Sadaharu Oh's coaching staff for the Japanese team does not include Bobby Valentine. Too bad. Say what you will about his antics, but he is great for the game. And, along with Tom Grieve, he helped save baseball in the D/FW metroplex.
I wonder if Tommy Lasorda has been asked to coach Italy? Hopefully. It would add a little spice to the tourney.
Cool little sidenote about the Mexican team: It will be managed by Paquin Estrada, a man who had a rather esteemed 26 year career in the Mexican Baseball League. He did get the proverbial cup of coffee in the bigs, going 1-for-2 in the only major league game he appeared in. That was while he was in a New York Mets uniform. But his big claim to fame, MLB-style? He was included in the trade that sent Nolan Ryan to the (then) California Angels.
So who is my pick to win? It's a little early to tell because there is still some flux concerning final rosters. However, I'm going to have to go with Ireland. Oh. Wait...

Are you as ready as I am?

haircuts and suits for everybody....

2006-01-05T07:11:00.000-08:00

I sit down to write today for one simple reason. I want to share with you an opinion. This opinion is mine only, and should not reflect the other writers of this board.

I HATE The New York Yankees.

Whew. There I said it. I don’t have a whole lot of hot opinions. I don’t have a strong stance when it comes to DH vs. no DH. Although it is kinda funny to watch a pitcher hit, and as the announcers talk about little league stats for the guy, he smacks a dinger. Priceless. I don’t worry about the in-depth rules of the infield fly rule, because its one of those “use at your own risk” type of rules.

But I do believe I hate the Yankees as much as I hate hangovers. I hate them more than I hate that annoying way people breathe into the phone when they are trying to talk to you about the merits of Vibe and Soap Digest. I hate them more than I hate that little piece of gum you pick up on the sole of your shoe, and carry all day, only to look at your shoe and see hair, and something that looks like a smushed cheerio.

The Yankees are cocky. Sure they have a lot of championships under their collective belt. So what? I can buy a trophy if I have enough money. They have a bevy of talent in their farm system, but tend to spend money the way a depressed guy shops for a home stereo. They sign guys that seem to have been created in a lab, from a test tube. They athletes they sign are pretty, strong, marketing geniuses, and all have that “why can’t you come home with friends like that guy” sort of presence.

I look at the prospective rosters on ESPN.com yesterday, and see that they have signed exactly 1 new player. Of course that player is Boston media darling Johnny Damon. Of course he was a media darling for shirking the norm, growing his hair out and having a “come down from the hills and have my baby” sort of beard. Now in New York, he is that center fielder with a weak arm.

Jason Giambi was the same sort of player in Oakland. Tattoos, long hair, riding his Harley, he was that white trash story of Cinderella. Now? He is a once great, but tainted by juice, might be past his prime, probably traded for a can of tuna mid-season type of player.

As a Ranger fan, don’t get me started on A-Rod and his fat wallet.

So I could rant all day on the fact that my hatred of the Yankees makes me dislike Donny Baseball. It even surpasses the fact that Wade Boggs was a favorite of mine, until he suited up in the pinstripes. I could tell you how I laugh when they loose, deny any win they might have, and wonder when the Mets are going to have their year. But I won’t. Instead, I will say:

I HATE THE NEW YORK YANKEES

In Which Rose Has A Thing About Numbers

2005-12-30T19:40:00.001-08:00

I have this thing about numbers.

Oh, wait. Hi. I'm Rose. I'm that other writer. Leem, in his infinite wisdom, has entrusted me with the look and feel of this site, so it's my fault it still looks pretty bare. Sorry. Downtime's been pretty scarce, but that's a story best told on that blog without my name on it. (Don't have the address for that one? Email me.)

Anyway. I have this thing about numbers. Math I can take or leave, but numbers fascinate me. Which is fortunate, because I can't shake the little buggers. My mother loves to talk about how I can rattle off the number of every hotel room we ever stayed in on vacations. The good thing is that this is impossible to disprove; I mean, if we didn't actually stay in room 102 at that place in Salem, Oregon that summer I was three -- you know, the place with all the bees by the pool -- who's going to know?

I grew up not too far from Dodger Stadium. My preschool used to arrange occasional outings, and I remember playing in the bleachers while the adults... well, we all survived, so the adults were presumably keeping at least one eye on us. I maintained a passing, hey-those-are-my-neighbors interest in the team into the strike of '81, through the World Series, and on to the heart of fourth grade.

Here's where the numbers come in. My math teacher figured that the best way to teach us about decimals was to teach us about baseball.

It was like leading a junkie duck to crack.

During baseball season, I pored over the stats page every morning while I was eating breakfast. Well, I'd try to glance at the comics first. (And the front page. Clearly, I was not your normal nine-year-old.) But mostly, I was about those numbers. At that point, I was just looking to see how individual Dodgers were doing in comparison to other players, but I started to discern the broader picture.

Mom thought it was great that Dad could discuss baseball with one of his kids. For his part, even though he hasn't followed the Yankees for years, I think my Bronx-bred father still hasn't gotten over raising a Dodger fan.

Dodger fandom is a tricky thing. I don't think anyone really sets out to follow them. People tend to retain allegiance to their hometown team, and, L.A. being the kind of place it is, there are a lot of different hometown teams represented. Hell, even the Dodgers are from out of town. They moved out from Brooklyn around the same time as my mother's family did, not so long after her father's friend Les Rodney had used his sports column in the Daily Worker to bring a young man named Jackie Robinson to the Dodgers' attention.

But even without the tenuous family connection -- even without the proximity -- even without my numbers thing -- I probably would have ended up following the Dodgers anyway. For one thing, Dodger Stadium general admission tickets are still a mere six bucks. For another Dodger Stadium is freakin' beautiful. And I can certainly sympathize with any person or team that looks one way on paper and quite another in reality.

We're still recovering from the early days of Fox ownership, when the brass brought in GM Kevin Malone. After three years of bad acquisitions and terrible trades, he mercifully forced himself to resign by challenging a Padres fan to a fight. The job eventually went to Dan Evans, who didn't suck. When the McCourts purchased the team, they replaced Evans with Paul DiPodesta.

Poor Paul DiPodesta. It's been a little heartbreaking, watching him watch his belief system crumble around him. Apparently, he'd never learned what I figured out early on: You can't always go by the numbers. OPS is a great place to start, but intangibles trump statistics. You can't trade popular guys like Paul Lo Duca and Guillermo Mota and expect the team to stay the same. The Dodgers made it into the playoffs in 2004 on the sheer force of Jose Lima's will.

No one expected DiPodesta to bring Lima back in 2005, and he didn't. But he didn't make any moves to keep Adrien Beltre, and he made some odd choices for the pitching staff. (Scott Erickson? Really?) Still, things looked good at the beginning of the season. Jeff Kent was settling in. Milton Bradley, of all people, was stepping up as a clubhouse leader. Now, if everyone could just stay healthy...

Oops.

Yeah. See, thing is, a team can look great on paper, but if your star players keep going on the DL for months at a time, the relief pitchers you bring up from the minors can't seem to find the strike zone and the front office doesn't support the manager, you end up with a terrible record and a skipper who's only too happy to have the opportunity to take that job in Pittsburgh.

So here's where we stand at the end of 2005: DiPodesta's out; Colletti's in. He made up for his short window of opportunity and his past with the Giants by... bringing in a bunch of Giants. I'm trying not to be suspicious about this. The biggest non-former-Giant acquisition so far has been Nomar Garciaparra. It's a gamble, but worth a shot.

Earlier this year, I was offered tickets to the annual Hollywood Stars charity softball game at Dodger Stadium, which fans can watch from the field. Now, I've been on stages in front of thousands of people. I've hung out with some pretty famous names. I've visited some heavy inner sanctums. But I don't think I've ever giggled in glee like when I got to take off my shoes and walk through the Dodgers' outfield grass.

A few more notes before I go:

No matter what they tell you, it's not the "Los Angeles Angels" -- it's the "Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim," and no one around here is fooled. Yes, I'm friendly with a certain guitar-playing Cy Young winner who plays for a team to the north of me; his sister is a good friend of mine, and he gamely submits to the occasional karaoke outing with his sister's crew. Yes, I know lots of random stuff. No, I will not do your homework. And, yes, Vin Scully is the greatest storyteller in the English language. But I'm sure that will be covered in a future post.

line drives and shiney cars

2005-12-29T21:10:00.000-08:00

The sun was still full in the Texas sky. Arlington Stadium was at the time, my favorite place in the world. I remember stepping from the dugout onto the grass that lined the field. I touched the "No Pepper" sign, because I had seen it on TV, and it was suddenly real. I toed the dirt near first base, smiling, because this was where Pete O'Brien caught pop ups. I walked across the grass smiling, knowing on TV it looked like a green carpet, and from where I was walking, it looked even cooler.

I was 8. My dad's company had been invited to the game by the Rangers, because one of the salesguys won a drawing, and was going to hit for a new car. If memory serves correctly, he got 5 pitches, and if he connected and drove it out of the park, he won the car. Probably not a big challenge for Biff the weightlifter, who may or may not knowingly ingested steroids, but for Mack the salesguy, it was going to be tough.

Here I was, walking across the outfield grass, not because I was special. Not because I was the best damn outfielder on my little league team, but because I was one of the only kids involved with the company to have a glove with me. So my task was to shag flyballs, if any should have come my way. There were 3 guys hitting that day, so I was ready for anything.

It was so fast, I can honestly say those 15 pitches were a blur. I do know that I caught 2 flys in my area.

Walking back, grinning from ear to ear, was my Coca-Cola moment. Pete Incaviglia, outfielder and minor star of YOUR Texas Rangers, offers me a hand. I slap as if I were coming back from a quick 3 up 3 down. He says to me, "Kid, that was a nice catch, way to hustle."

My Name is Joni, and I am a Baseball Fan

2005-12-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

When one lives in a city where our major league baseball team has won their division for the last 14 or so years, and even made it to the Series a time or two, you would think you would be surrounded by baseball fans. But in my office, I'm like the only baseball fan. Sure, the girl from Chicago suddenly became a big fan about mid-October, and the other guy that grew up in Boston did crawl from the woodwork around the same time in 2004, but normally when I mention baseball, its crickets.

Mention the Falcons (a team that has never had two consecutive winning seasons) and they are all abuzz about the latest happenings. People who barely finished high school, let alone went to college, will argue the merits of Georgia vs. Georgia Tech. We've even got one nut case that spends $8,000 on a set of season tickets for the Atlanta Flames/Knights/Thrashers/Whatevers Hockey team. But mention baseball in say, the month of May, and you get a big bunch of nothing.

Losers.

So, I gladly join this group of baseball misfits, half-wits and girls with big.... well, whatever.

Stay tuned.

Meet The New Boss

2005-12-29T10:52:00.000-08:00

The Rangers' signing of Kevin Millwood excites me greatly. Not just because it means that the Arlington lads have finally made good on their yearly promises to "get some pitching in here," but that it shows that Rangers General Manager Jon Daniels is no pansy.

Lemme 'splain.

In years past, Winter Meeting participants could count on the Rangers' total desperation to make a big move. This allowed other teams, as well as free agent representatives, to get the Rangers brass to give up the farm (both figuratively and literally).

Not this year.

When the 2005 Winter Meetings concluded, there were grumblings from unnamed GMs that Daniels was being totally unreasonable with his expectations. Players like Kevin Mench, John Danks, Alfonso Soriano and Gerald Laird were valued too highly, and the Rangers were simply asking for far too much to do a deal.

The consensus around the Hot Stove campfire was that Daniels was playing it too close to the vest. The Rangers came away with no marquee deals, and it looked like the team from the host city of the Winter Meetings were the big chumps.

Fast-forward four weeks, and Jon Daniels has installed a pitching rotation for the Rangers that should have skeptical fans salivating, or at least pricking up their ears. He's also addressed one of the big non-pitching concerns of the off-season -- center field -- with the Soriano-for-Wilkerson deal.

Daniels did this without gutting the farm system, or breaking the bank. The promise-laden troika of Thomas Diamond, Edison Volquez and John Danks is still in our system. Shrek is still a Ranger, as is Laird and Hank Blalock. Not bad for a GM that most pundits derided for being a John Hart puppet, or a "still-wet-behind-the-ears" executive.

League GMs should sit up and take notice. They're probably just shocked that the Rangers aren't patsies for the rest of the league, and with Daniels at the helm, they had better get used to it.

Does He Ever Get The Girl?

2005-12-27T09:38:00.000-08:00

(Let me get this out of the way: I have a habit of titling all my entries after songs. Today's contribution bends that rule a bit, for the title comes from a refrain in a Dashboard Confessional song. But it was so apt that I had to use it.)

Baseball and love have a lot in common, and I'm not just talking about the "bases" being used as reference points for how far a relationship has progressed. Sacrifices in baseball, whether a bunt or a fly ball, are vastly underrated. And the bunt in particular is in danger of becoming a lost art. Sacrifices for the sake of love are also becoming more scarce. And in this era of free agency, wooing a player has become much like courting a potential mate.

A team puts on its best face, wines and dines the free agent, and only talks about the good things they have to offer while keeping the negatives hidden in the closet. It really is a lot like dating, looking for that "special one" to settle down with long-term. So my Texas Rangers are a lot like, well, me.

I meet a new person, put my best foot forward, and she might be really intrigued.

The Rangers focus on a player, try to get them to visit, and pitch the fact that the D/FW area is a great place to live whether you are single or raising a family.

Now let's combine both examples.

A player's agent returns Texas' phone call. (I start a conversation with a woman.) Pretty soon, the player's desires are made known - length of contract, dollar amounts, etc. (This imaginary woman and I agree to meet. Maybe for drinks. Maybe just lunch.) The player might even visit the team to get a feel for the area and the facilities. (The woman starts to get more curious about the "real" me. Are you close to your family? Do you want kids? What are your friends like?) Both player and agent say nice things about the Rangers, and then Texas does the same regarding the free agent. (Common phrases: We seem to have a lot in common. It was great to see you. I had a nice time. I'm glad I got to talk to you. You are so sweet!)

And there it is - the death knell. The last step in this four-part courtship signals one thing, and one thing only. The dreaded Friend Zone.

I know it all too well, and so do the Rangers. They are a good club to use as leverage with other teams in order to get a better offer. And I am just smart, witty, and (barely) attractive enough to make women wonder if they can find someone even slightly better.

(Truth be told, I am probably most like the Florida Marlins. They have twice won the World Series. I have been married twice. Both times, after winning, the team dismantled with startling rapidity. I have been divorced twice. But using the Marlins as an example in this stretch of a metaphor would not be nearly as fun, so hang with me. It's almost over.)

Reports started filtering in yesterday afternoon that the Rangers and Kevin Millwood had agreed to contract terms and a formal announcement would be made after the requisite physical. I first heard about it in an email update from the incomparable Jamey Newberg. Suddenly, my spirits were lifted.

My team got who they wanted. Kudos to Jon Daniels. Things are looking up around here.

Maybe I'll be next...

The Concept

2005-12-15T06:39:00.000-08:00

I know there are fans of the great game of baseball out there... and I know this because I interact with several of them.

The game has taken many hits over the past decade or so: Inflated salaries to match reported inflated egos. Free-spending owners passing their self-inflicted costs on to the fans, threatening to make enjoying a day at the ballpark as expensive as seeing a contest from the other major professional sports leagues. Teams threatening moves if public funded stadiums, filled with bells and whistles (oh, and a bunch of suites for the corporate "sponsors"), are not offered. Steroids. And, to top it all off, a tie in the All-Star Game.

Rubbish.

Now, I am not saying that those reasons listed above didn't actually occur, I am simply stating that the baseball fan is out there. Waiting. Almost too patiently.

Waiting for the next run at a major record, like the McGwire/Sosa duel. (Yeah, I know - hindsight is 20/20 in regards to how the record may have been broken - but it was still captivating, even to the average fan.) Waiting for the next team to conquer its own demons like the White Sox of 2005 or the Red Sox of 2004. Waiting for the heralded prospect for the hometown team to burst on to the big league scene in a major way because, after all, baseball is all about optimism.

And some of us are already waiting for the first pitch. Those are the ones that I am trying my best to assemble here.

So far, I have had two take me up on my offer.

First was Steamer. This is a guy who has had baseball on his mind pretty much his entire life. (When I read John Grisham's "A Painted House", it was impossible to separate the young boy that the story revolved around from Steamer in my mind.) He grew up in Arkansas as a St Louis Cardinal fan. He went on to pitch at the University of Arkansas. But, best of all, he is a GREAT baseball story teller.

He gets so emotionally involved in the subject that it is hard (impossible, actually) to feel apathy toward the game or anyone he may be writing about. Years ago he started writing his "baseball diaries", a memoir of sorts that began with his little league appearances and led up to his college career. Brilliant stuff, though I am not sure if he ever finished what was on his mind.

I hope he finds this the right spot to start from the beginning, and that he will repost them here.

And then there is Rose...

She has a brilliant baseball mind, an extraordinary sharp wit, and she is quite probably the smartest person I have ever met. Her baseball points might bounce around from stats-based deep thoughts to subtle humor that truly reveal her genius. And, to me, that is a perfect combination.

And to all you single guys in the L.A. area? She's single, too. And attractive. So if you are not intimidated by a woman who has forgotten more than you will ever know, start lining up now.

Lastly, there is me.

Both of my parents grew up in Rhode Island as Red Sox fans, so baseball has always been a part of my life. The family moved to Texas when I was five years old and that is when I became a Texas Rangers fan. I've been one ever since, believe it or not. And finding true fans of the great game is a challenge in this football-crazed state. Thankfully, we have this amazing tool known as The Internet.

It has allowed me to meet people such as Steamer and Rose. It gave me my first freelance writing gig (emphasis on "free"), allowing me to talk baseball whenever I wanted, to an audience that was actually receptive. But I yearned for something with more participation. Something less structured and spanning the continent. And that something is this.

Let's see where "this" goes...