Felix is Ours and You Can’t Have Him (Unless the Price is Right)

Last night, the Mariners played one of their most exciting games of 2012, as they defeated the Boston Red Sox, 1-0. Unfortunately, it was only exciting because the lineup was held to three hits over seven innings by a guy (Franklin Morales) who has made 18 starts over an on and off eight year major league career.

 

In the end, the game was decided by a John Jaso (who I’m quickly beginning to believe is the most clutch motherfucker in all of baseball) pinch hit RBI single in the bottom of the ninth. But that run only mattered in the first place because M’s ace Felix Hernandez pitched what was close to the game of his life. The line for Felix: complete game shutout, five hits allowed, one (ninth inning) walk, and 13 punchouts. In one evening of work, King Felix revealed why there isn’t a single player in all of baseball I’d trade him straight up for (I believe I once said I’d trade him for Justin Verlander, but I think I’d like to back out of that, owing to one fact and one opinion: Verlander is three years older and, just maybe, the tiniest of ticks better. And that’s quite damn debatable.)

 

Still, I have to admit, I spent the last few innings considering trade packages I would accept in return for the King. Over the past few seasons, we’ve watched him rack up losses and no decisions in games in which he was utterly dominant. An almost nonexistent offense will do that. My willingness to at least think about trading him has nothing to do with his greatness, which is considerable. I just hate the idea of him languishing here, and I’m realistic enough to know that the Mariners still lack several key pieces needed to field a championship-caliber team. 

 

The biggest roadblock to trading Felix is that it would be near-impossible to get fair value back for him. He’s an established ace who just turned 26 and he has two and a half years left on his current contract. If all that weren’t enough, if I’m GM Jack Zduriencik, I add a couple of conditions:

 

1. The Yankees are out. You too, Red Sox.

– The Bombers are most frequently mentioned by national baseball men when the annual topic of trading Felix comes up. Unfortunately their minor league cupboard is a bit bare. The Yanks’ top two prospects, pitchers Manny Banuelos and Dellin Betances, have endured considerable struggles this season. Their #3 guy is a catcher (not a long term need), #4 (outfielder Mason Williams) is several years away from the Show and #5 was a throw-in from the Jesus Montero-Michael Pineda deal. 

 

So unless the Yankees want to send us Robinson Cano and Curtis Granderson (and pay their entire remaining salaries), they can go to hell. I also want Michael Kay and Monument Park in any such deal. The Sox farm system might be even worse off. Jose Iglesias? Thanks, but we already have a great fielding shortstop who can’t fucking hit. Go figure out a way to trade for Zack Greinke, fellas.

2. Nobody within the division gets him.

– I will not, under any circumstances, watch Felix pitch against the Mariners three to five times a year as an Angel or Ranger.

 

So where does that leave us? About half a step shy of nowhere. It would have to be a blockbuster. And it would require a team not only rich in prospects but also one with sufficient cash to carry a $20 million a year ace. That rules out Pittsburgh, Kansas City, San Diego and Tampa Bay, four teams that, unfortunately, are among the most loaded in terms of developing talent.

 

This narrows our search down to a precious few teams. Off the top of my head, there’s the Washington Nationals, Atlanta Braves, Arizona Diamondbacks and maybe Toronto. Not exactly a lot of options. And that list gets a bit narrower once they get a load of what I would want in return. Here’s my initial offer. Felix, and Felix alone, for…….

 

Arizona: Justin Upton-OF/Trevor Bauer-RHP/Matt Davidson-3B (their best player plus prospects #’s 1 and 4.)

 

Atlanta: Jason Heyward-OF/Julio Teheran-RHP/Andrelton Simmons-SS (their best young MLB bat plus their top two prospects.)

Washington: Anthony Rendon-3B and either Bryce Harper or Stephen Strasburg (NOT gonna happen.)

Toronto: Brett Lawrie-3B/Travis d’Arnaud-C/Anthony Gose-OF (the Jays’ top two prospects, plus Lawrie. Sure, d’Arnaud is a catcher, but his bat is too good to ignore. You could DH him or move him to first, since it’s looking increasingly likely that Justin Smoak will never be what the M’s hoped he would.)

 

So there you have it: four deals that would, in all likelihood, be asking too much of prospective trade partners. In other words, trading King Felix is beginning to look like an impossible task. Oh well. I guess there’s only one other thing to do: continue surrounding him with talent, take a deep breath, wait it out for a couple years, spend considerable cash when we’re close and then, in the immortal words of Jake Taylor in Major League, “Win the whole…fuckin’…thing.” (Stop laughing, goddamnit!!)

“There’s no way we’re not going to do this.”

“If there’s anybody out there that they don’t think we’re going to do this, are you kidding me? There’s no chance we’re not going to do this.”   That was Mariners manager Eric Wedge, speaking Wednesday morning on the Brock and Salk radio program on ESPN Seattle. Unless my powers of deduction are far worse than I believe, “this” refers to becoming a competitive, winning baseball team. When I heard Wedge say this, I was filled with a number of feelings, but unfortunately dread and doubt were chief among them.   I should qualify that by admitting something about myself- for me, the only absolute is that there are no absolutes. So when Wedge says there’s “no chance” the M’s will fail to realize their potential, the first thing I think is “That’s ridiculous.”   Of course, this was an interview. It’s unlikely, if not impossible, that this response was predetermined. On the contrary, it was, in all likelihood, an off-the-cuff, perhaps even reflexive response, a show of support for his ballclub.  And though I could never fault the skipper for this assertion, it troubles me still. Because not only is there (obviously) a chance, there are days when the Mariners falling short of expectations seems the most probable outcome.   Let’s conduct a quick inventory of the M’s immediate surroundings. And let’s just throw out the current season, because there will be no October baseball in 2012 for this team (other than the last three games of the season against the Angels.) Starting in 2013, upon the arrival of the Houston Astros, the AL West will be expanded to a five team division. Even with the expanded wild card format, making the playoffs (which, as far as I’m concerned, is a necessary requirement of doing “this”) will require the Mariners being better than at least two of their four divisional contemporaries. At least….meaning it’s probably three, possibly four. So we’re talking, at minimum, a third place finish and that’s if the East and Central have only one elite team apiece. This is starting to feel like a tall order.   By virtue of their consecutive pennants, the Texas Rangers are still the class of the American League. And with or without Josh Hamilton, that potency will probably continue for the foreseeable future.   The Angels enjoy the luxury of having the Best Players in Baseball Past (Albert Pujols) and Future (Mike Trout.) Not to mention a legit ace in the person of Jered Weaver. Even better, they have an owner (Arte Moreno) so committed to winning, so willing to break the bank, that his surname may as well be Steinbrenner.   The A’s traded away 40% (the good 40%) of their rotation and, by all appearances, weren’t as far along in their rebuilding plan, yet they’re clearly better than the Mariners right now. Even the Astros, by virtue of not being in last place, appear further along than even they expected. And they’re in a large enough market that, when they’re close to contending, they’ll spend a lot of dough.   Now let’s forget about the competition and deal with the Mariners themselves. Can their rebuild trump those happening in Oakland and Houston? Sure, but it’s far from a slam dunk. Do they possess the elite level talent of Texas or the Angels? Not really, no. Finally, does the Mariners ownership have that urgent commitment to winning and the willingness to spend money usually necessary to accommodate winning? It has certainly never seemed that way. In fact, if I may depart from my general way of thinking, my answer is “absolutely not.”   “No chance?” Not if these four franchises have anything to say about it, and, because they occupy the same division, they do.

The Future is Now

MLB: The Next Generation? When the four major individual player awards (the two league MVP’s and Cy Young Award winners) are announced this fall, it’s conceivable that each of them will be age 25 or younger. And it’s bordering on astounding how quickly some of them have developed. Two of the players I’ll be discussing were drafted in 2009. Another was a member of the 2010 Draft class. It’s pretty impressive to be a big league regular that quickly, much less a serious MVP or Cy Young candidate. Dylan was half a century off, but the times they are a-changin’ (you’re welcome.) Let’s begin with the American League.   Mike Trout-OF, LA Angels, 20 years old (21 in August) – Goddamn. That’s my one word scouting report on Trout. Going into the 2009 Draft, two things were believed so strongly that they were presented almost as fact: first overall pick Stephen Strasburg was a once in a generation talent, and second pick Dustin Ackley was the most polished hitter available. Well….maybe they meant most polished collegehitter….because it took Trout all of one year to establish himself as perhaps baseball’s #1 prospect.   Trout wasn’t selected until the 25th pick of the first round (this was a compensation pick for the Yankees’ signing of Mark Teixeira, who played for the Halos for, like, twelve seconds), so apparently he morphed into Mickey Mantle, Jr. some time between the Draft and the following summer.   The 20-year-old budding superstar is currently leading the AL in hitting with a .335 average, as well as stolen bases (21.) Should the Angels stay in the playoff picture (which I wouldn’t bet against) and he keeps up this pace, Trout could find himself as the youngest MVP ever.   If Trout falters but the Angels stay in it, we could see his teammate, second year slugger Mark Trumbo bringing home the hardware. A man without a position upon the signing of Albert Pujols, Trumbo, like, Trout, forced himslf into an overcrowded lineup by posting a .320 average and slugging 18 HR to go along with 50 RBI.    If Trout was an afterthought in the ’09 Draft, Trumbo was the red headed stepchild of the ’04 class- he was selected in the 18th round, 533rd overall. Ah, the unpredictability of baseball scouting.   Chris Sale-LHP, Chicago White Sox, 23 years old – Initially called up as a reliever, Sale is, for the moment, arguably the most dominant starting pitcher in the AL. Apparently being jerked around between the rotation and the bullpen did little to dim Sale’s rising star. He’s currently 8-2 with a 2.24 ERA, is averaging just over a strikeout per inning and has a WHIP under 1.00.     National League Andrew McCutchen-OF. Pittsburgh Pirates, 25 years old – The old man of this group, McCutchen has spent the past couple years evolving into one of the game’s most exciting players. Though he’s not getting any love from fans in All Star voting, he’s ripping it up for the surprising Bucs, to the tune of a .341 average, 13 HR, 46 RBI and 14 swipes. All for one of the worst offensive teams in all of baseball.   Perhaps it’s unthinkable that a Pirate could pick up the league MVP, but hey, if the Bucs make a serious playoff charge, he’s as good a choice as anybody. And in a division where you get to frequently play the Astros and Cubs, the playoffs are not out of the question.   Stephen Strasburg-RHP, Washington Nationals, 23 years old (24 in August) – It would seem that Tommy John surgery agrees with Stras. Not only did he make it back to the mound in near-record time, he’s been just as lethal since. The ’09 first overall pick is probably the odds-on favorite for the Cy, sporting a 9-2 mark, a 2.60 ERA and a whopping 118 K’s in only 90 innings of work.   It appears that the only thing that could stop Strasburg is a supposed innings cap. But with the Nats leading the NL East, it’s going to be very difficult, if not impossible, to shut him down.     Maybe none of this comes to fruition (or “fruitation”, as I once heard someone say on the local news), but it would probably be a nice jolt for baseball. An absence of young stars is a drag on any professional sport- just ask the NBA in a first year or two after Michael Jordan. Look, I’m as amused as anyone that the future of baseball apparently goes by the name “Trout.” But it’s better than no future at all.

That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore

“I wish I could laugh/But that joke isn’t funny anymore/It’s too close to home/And it’s too near the bone/More than you’ll ever know…..” – Steven Patrick Morrissey Enough. I can’t take much more. We’re far enough into the 2012 season that it’s reasonable to start looking at home/away splits and not be criticized for it. As you may have observed/heard/felt/smelled, checking out these splits for the Mariners isn’t pretty.   I hate to keep harping on this whole ballpark thing but the evidence that Safeco Field is a problem has degraded from reasonably convincing to incontrovertibly alarming. Take a gander at the home/away splits for the guys who you could easily argue are the M’s six most important hitters:   Home stats in bold Jesus Montero – .243/3 HR/12 RBI – .279/5/16   Dustin Ackley – .224/0/6 – .256/4/17   Justin Smoak – .171/3/12 – /239/8/20   Michael Saunders – .202/1/3 – .302/7/21   Ichiro – .232/1/13 – .302/3/13   Kyle Seager – .173/2/12 – .316/8/33   God. Damn. OK….no, wait….OK…..um….OK.   A couple of these aren’t eye-popping. Given that the M’s have played eleven more road games, it wouldn’t be shocking to see Montero at least match his power numbers by, say, the end of the current homestand.  Ichiro actually drives in runs a little more frequently at home and Ackley’s home average isn’t worlds apart from its road counterpart. The rest isn’t so reassuring.   Ackley is almost three times more likely to drive a run in on the road. And (given that he hasn’t homered at Safeco this year), literally infinitely more likely to go yard. While Smoak’s .239 road average still isn’t good enough, if you just look at his non-Safeco numbers, we’re probably not talking about him being a bust.    Saunders’ average is a full hundred points higher away from home. And his HR/RBI numbers are seven times greater. Seven. That one between six and eight. Ichiro is still a .300 hitter outside of the Seattle city limits.   As hideous as these splits are, it’s Kyle Seager’s numbers that are on the verge of giving me nightmares: average 143 points lower at home. Six less homers. Twenty-one fewer RBI. That’s….astounding. We’re talking Mike Schmidt on the road versus optioned to Triple-A based solely on home stats.   I know I’ve spent a fair amount of time complaining about the Safeco factor but, like Jose Canseco before me, I’m beginning to feel vindicated. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering exactly why this is happening. Yet the more questions I ask, the more I start to believe it doesn’t so much matter why, because it is. Is it the spacious gaps? The moisture in the air? Or is it mostly a psychological issue? Doesn’t matter. Because the latter two questions could potentially be answered by simply addressing the first one: move in the fences. By doing so, more batted balls will carry out of the park and, chances are, this crop of young hitters will feel worlds better about hitting here.   Here’s something I’ve never understood: even by steroid era standards, Safeco is a big-ass ballpark. Why did a team with Ken Griffey, Jr., Alex Rodriguez, Edgar Martinez and Jay Buhner build a pitcher’s park? Randy Johnson was traded a full year before the park opened (because, y’know, he was past his prime), so you can’t even make him a part of the discussion. The only particularly significant player Safeco’s dimensions probably helped was Jamie Moyer, a pitcher prone to surrendering gopher balls. As good as he was, surely no one went into this saying “Let’s make sure Jamie’s happy here.”  Even if the park was designed to accommodate the type of team the Mariners would have enjoyed, wouldn’t it make a lot more sense to build one for the team they actually had? Within eighteen months of Safeco’s inaugural game, both Griffey and A-Rod were gone. No way we keep Rodriguez, short of Tom Hicks deciding “Hey, maybe I shouldn’t spend more money than we can afford on one player when our pitching is shit.”, but Griffey, I will believe for the rest of my life, was the first casualty of The Safe. He hated the ballpark and wasn’t shy about saying so. A higher annual salary and manageable power alleys will do a lot to alleviate homesickness.    This isn’t about coddling our young hitters. It’s about seeing what we have. If the Mariners give up on Smoak because his home stats are a drag on his overall outlook, and he ends up hitting 30 home runs somewhere else, that doesn’t help anybody. Except of course his next team.    Know who should be the biggest proponents of moving the fences in? A couple of guys named Jack Zduriencik and Eric Wedge. Because if this crop of hitters fails, they’ll be looking for work some time during or immediately following next season. No GM or field manager in this era has the luxury of two separate rebuilding efforts. You get it right or you get the fuck out. That being the case, if it were me, I’d sure like to know if it’s the players or the park that’s the problem.   I’ll continue watching the Mariners play for the following reasons:   1. I love baseball and, for better or worse, they’re my home/favorite team.   2. I really don’t have much of a social life.   3. Though I consider myself a realist, there’s a part of me that yearns to be an optimist.   All I ask is that the powers that be do what they can to make the experience as pleasant as possible. Every team is going to lose their share of 1-0 games. But the Mariners are losing their entire division’s share of these games. And it doesn’t have to be this way.

Can LeBron Pass the A-Rod Test?

I fucking hate Alex Rodriguez. OK, I don’t “hate” him as in wishing him ill or anything like that. But I definitely “sports hate” him. And I think he’s a dick. And a phony. And a liar.   Though I complain about the typical Seattle sports fan quite a bit, one of things I kind of get a kick out of is their ability to hold a grudge….forever. Nearly twelve years after leaving the Mariners, A-Rod is still lustily booed upon his frequent returns to Seattle. This will never end. He, barring a miracle, will never return to throw out the first pitch or be enshrined in the Mariners Hall of Fame. Largely due to the reasons listed above, he’s an easy guy to dislike.   Following the 2000 season, then-Mariners shortstop Rodriguez disappeared into the night, inking a lucrative (and irresponsible/unsustainable by pre-TV deal Rangers standards) contract with the Texas Rangers. A-Rod was, at that time, a young player who still hadn’t quite reached his prime and the backlash his departure caused was considerable. Sound familiar?   When LeBron James, a young player probably just shy of his prime, bolted from Cleveland to take his talents to South Beach, the backlash was actually far worse. There were a couple different reasons for this: 1. Basketball, while strictly speaking a team sport, is much more focused on individual players than baseball. (This is a byproduct of both nature and nurture- it’s an attitude that’s been perpetuated by media, fans and players themselves. But it’s also completely understandable, and probably inevitable, because, in basketball, a single player can directly impact a huge slice of the outcome of a game. It’s why Michael Jordan could have had Pauly Shore as his point guard and he still would have won a few rings.) 2. Nobody gives a fuck about Seattle.   James in a tougher guy to dislike than A-Rod is. For roughly a twelve month stretch, he essentially played the role of a wrestling heel. Think NWO Hulk Hogan circa 1996. He made poor choices and showed little regard for how he was perceived. Take that period out of the equation, however, and he’s a pretty likable dude. A-Rod is more like the guy who presents himself as a good guy, but is so smug, so transparent, you almost have to hate him. Something like the early Honky Tonk Man or the Fabulous Rougeau Brothers from the late 80s.   A-Rod, though his regular season stats were intimidating, had a bit of a problem with the postseason. In his first year in the Bronx, he batted .320 for the playoffs with 3 homers and 8 RBI. These numbers, however, are a bit misleading, as he did most of the damage against the Yankees’ perennial playoff doormat, the Minnesota Twins. In the three postseasons that would follow, all first round exits for the Yanks, A-Rod was much worse- .133 with no HR or RBI in 2005, .071/0/0 in ’06 and .267 with one home run and a single run batted in for 2007. The 2008 season brought something unheard of in the Core Four era- a lack of October baseball. Then, in 2009, Mr. Rodriguez would nut up.   The Yanks captured the 2009 World Series, in no small part due to the performance of A-Rod. All he did was hit .365 with 6 HR and 18 RBI. Even in a sport as team-dependent as baseball, you need your best player to step up. He did. And they won their first crown in nine years because of it.   LeBron James’ playoff shortcomings have been even more well documented. His disappearing act in last year’s Finals against Dallas is legendary. And it didn’t exactly start there- James was lackluster in the 2007 Finals, when his Cleveland Cavs were annihilated by San Antonio. He appeared to flat-out quit on his team in the 2010 conference semifinals, which turned out to be his Cleveland swan song. While no one questioned James’ ability, the book on him suggested he would shrink in the biggest moments. And he did little to dispel this sentiment.   That is, of course, until a couple of weeks ago. With fellow star Chris Bosh sidelined or limited and Miami’s collective backs against the wall, James uncorked a series of superhero performances, first against Indiana, then in a must-win Game 6 in Boston. He then went out and positively bitch-slapped Oklahoma City in the Finals, earning, and I do mean earning, his first championship.   Now, the hard work begins. Like the old saying goes, it’s harder to stay on top than to get there in the first place. That may or may not be true (I’m inclined to think it isn’t), but either way, LeBron still has things to prove. And in order to take the next step, he needs to prove that he’s no Alex Rodriguez.   Following his 2009 playoff heroics, A-Rod generally reverted back to his prior playoff form- the classic under performer. There were other guys who probably played a bigger role in the Bombers’ playoff demises (Cliff Lee, Doug Fister, Delmon Young, not to mention poor pitching from CC Sabathia), but the fact remains, 2009 A-Rod hasn’t shown himself.   In a few months, LeBron’s Heat will begin defense of their NBA Championship. And unless he and Dwyane Wade contract the Plague, they will be among the higher seeds in the 2013 playoffs. Will LeBron be just as hungry? Will he rise to the occasion once (not six, not seven…) more? My not-so-professional opinion: Probably.   Given that basketball allows the individual to excel more than baseball, his chances are immediately better. It won’t matter if Mario Chalmers or Shane Battier have a shitty game if LeBron can put up a triple-double and he gets sufficient help from Wade and Bosh. Conversely, there’s nothing A-Rod can do if Derek Jeter strikes out with the bases loaded, or Ivan Nova gives up a three run double. Between at bats and key defensive plays, A-Rod has maybe half a dozen opportunities a night to considerably affect the outcome of a given game. LeBron has scores of chances every night.   Moreover, and I cannot prove this, but I feel it quite strongly, LeBron simply loves basketball more than A-Rod loves, well, anything (mirrors and his centaur self portraits notwithstanding.) It’s easier for him to put in the work, because the work is fun to him. And he is acutely aware that his legacy can be impacted one way or another with each and every playoff game. While I don’t expect him to necessary rival Jordan or Kobe, I really believe that James’ days of disappearing acts are finished. And while I’ve always hated the Heat, I hope I’m right because James at his best is too damn fun to watch.   (If you’re reading this in Jersey or really anywhere else besides Seattle, you may be wondering how I could possibly be happy for LeBron. But you already know the answer to that- I couldn’t possibly pull for the former Sonics over in Oklahoma City. While I have only positive feelings for Kevin Durant, I can’t support this team. Virtually no one in Seattle can. Which is why we were faced with the strange reality of Seattle being the only other city in America that wanted the Heat to win the Finals.)

Where’s Bill Madden When You Really Need Him?

I’ll admit it- the title of this piece is a cheap shot, albeit one with no real malice behind it. In Larry Stone‘s weekly team rankings in the Sunday Seattle Times, there is, without exception, the following comment: “Where’s (fill in the blank former player for this team) when you really need him?” It’s not a tactic that bothers me in the least. In fact, I frequently scan the page for this comment before reading the list in full. I just thought it would make for a funny title. For the record, Bill Madden is a sportswriter for the New York Daily News.   Earlier today, I read a piece written by Mr. Stone titled Roger Clemens, steroids, and the Hall of Fame. And, for the first time that I can remember, I found myself in considerable disagreement with him. The gist of the article was that, in the face of Clemens’ acquittal, he’s been given, while certainly not a clean slate, perhaps more of the benefit of the doubt. I think that’s a bit of a stretch.   Before I get going, I’d like to say that I love Larry Stone’s work. So far as media goes, I consider him the King to Shannon Drayer‘s Queen of Seattle Baseball. I truly look forward to reading his columns. Because of this respect, I almost opted not to write what follows. Why, I thought, should I be in any way critical of someone who not only knows more about the game, but is a far better writer than I am? But then I answered my own question: Just because he’s a better writer, there’s no reason to believe his opinion is any more valid than my own. So here we are.   Actually, Stone’s article is probably more about what a pain in the ass the PED era has made Hall of Fame voting. Can we really say definitively if Player X or Player Y did or didn’t partake? Probably not. But to quote Yogi Berra for the 6,000th time, “You can see a lot just by looking.” (alternately thought to be “You can observe a lot just by watching.” Apparently there was a shortage of tape recorders- and pens- during Yogi’s career.)   A guy like Barry Bonds was a very different kind of player earlier in his career. It’s unusual, if not unheard of, for a 36-year-old to hit 24 more home runs than he ever had in a previous season. In 2004, at age 39, Bonds had an on base percentage of .609. Six fucking hundred nine!! The best OBP this year (and keep in mind we’re not even half way through the season, so numbers like this tend to be inflated) is Joey Votto’s .486. Only eight players in all of baseball have an OBP .400 or better.   Entering the 1998 season, two players (Maris and The Babe) produced one campaign each in which they reached the 60 home run mark. Yet Sammy Sosa, a guy initially known more for his speed, managed this feat three times in four years. Luis Gonzalez spent the entirety of his twenties hitting 10-15 a year, then clubbed 57 at age 33.    Do these sound like a bunch of coincidences? And while these pieces of evidence are insufficient to convict a man in a court of law, they’re certainly grounds for keeping him off your HoF ballot.   The book on Clemens is a little bit cloudier than the aforementioned hitters. But not much. From 1986-1991, he was the best pitcher in baseball, posting a record of 100-51 and collecting some serious hardware (three Cy Young’s and an MVP.) Then, as often happens on the wrong side of 30, Clemens became mortal. From 1993-’96, his record was 40-39, and his cumulative ERA was roughly a full run higher.   All of a sudden, Clemens lands in Toronto (cue Brian McNamee‘s entrance music), spends two seasons there and proceeds to completely recapture his dominance. And though, statistically speaking, post-Boston Clemens probably peaked here, he continued this dominance well into his forties. At age 42, he recorded a league-leading 1.87 ERA for Houston. But hey, he learned how to throw a splitter. Which, of course, bought him a full decade of lights out stuff.   So there’s the eyeball test on Clemens. Yet even after all that, I wasn’t completely convinced. Know what did it? His teammate, one of his best friends (at the time) and, by all accounts, a pretty stand-up guy in the person of Andy Pettitte fucking said he did! Which brings me to the one passage in Stone’s article that I simply cannot abide:   “….despite the vehemence with which some people will respond to those questions- particularly the “keep the cheating bums out” faction- the answers are hardly cut and dry. Voters who kept out Jeff Bagwell just because of steroids innuendo were rightly criticized, I felt, because there was no proof, just suspicions. Well, I think it can be argued that Clemens now falls into the same category.”   Actually, I don’t really have a problem with any of that until the final sentence, where Clemens is tied to Bagwell. Other than a few whispers, Bagwell was never directly accused of anything. Not by a clubhouse attendant, certainly not by a teammate. And, again, he at least comes much much closer to passing the eyeball test- his career trajectory makes sense. I wrote about my indignation over Bagwell (and Edgar Martinez‘s) Hall of Fame prospects a few months ago. You should read it. Here- I’ll help. https://noballsandthreestrikes.wordpress.com/2012/02/15/steve-vs-the-bbwaa/   Furthermore, and feel free to call me un-American for this, that a jury failed to convict Clemens does virtually nothing to sway my opinion. Short of video evidence of Clemens repeatedly injecting himself while shouting “Look at me! I’m injecting steroids into myself!”, there was not going to be a conviction. If you’re rich and famous, you exist within a different legal system than everyone else. How do I know this? Because I have a memory (and, failing that, internet access.)   The thing that I worry about is every single power hitter’s Hall status being cast into doubt due to the cloud of steroid concerns, either real or imagined. There have already been grumblings about the soon-to-be-eligible Mike Piazza (who Stone unfortunately lumps into a paragraph with known users Manny Ramirez and A-Rod, plus “you’re not fooling anybody” users Bonds, Clemens and Sosa.) Piazza is perhaps the greatest offensive catcher ever and, like Bagwell, has been subject to little more than whispers. Will there be a sizable group who will dare call Ken Griffey, Jr.’s legitimacy into question? My heart says no, but then again, there hasn’t really been an exception yet.   Ultimately, Stone concludes that, as it stands currently, he plans on voting for Clemens’ enshrinement. And, though I personally wouldn’t vote for him, I have no problem with that. For my part, if I had a ballot (spoiler alert: I don’t), I would be more inclined to vote for guys who cheated and, to some extent, owned up to it- Rodriguez and Pettitte (if he tallies another couple of strong seasons), for example.   In any case, the Ryan Braun debacle notwithstanding, I sincerely hope that ten to fifteen years from now, these Hall of Fame discussions won’t require a polygraph test or a shot of sodium pentathol to successfully navigate.

What Exactly is a “True Fan?”

There are a few things that are all but guaranteed to drive me fucking bonkers: these include, but are not limited to, people who lie for absolutely no reason, people that say “all the sudden” rather than “all of a sudden” and The Eagles (the band, not the football team. In fact, so long as Michael Vick is their quarterback, I will continue to refer to them as the Philadelphia Dog Murderers. Hey, don’t blame me- I didn’t murder any fucking dogs!) Yet few things push my buttons the way reading letters to the editor in the Sunday Seattle Times’ sports section does.   I’ve said before (or, if I haven’t, I meant to say it!) that, if a contest were held among the major American cities, Seattle might have the least knowledgeable sports fans in the country. This isn’t the worst thing in the world- there are many things far more worthy of understanding than the intricacies of the 4-3 defense or Dustin Ackley‘s batting average. But it ties in with something else that I hate- people who get all fucking indignant about things they barely understand.   There were a couple of whoppers this week. Names have been changed to protect the ignorant: Bruno chastised The Times for a poll question which asked whether Blake Beaven should be removed from the Mariners starting rotation (I believe he actually told them they should be “ashamed!”) He pointed out that Beaven is trying hard to hold onto his dream of being a big league pitcher and these decisions should be left to the “experts” like manager Eric Wedge Antilles (thanks, Jen) and GM Jack Zduriencik. (Though I believe both Wedge and Jack Z. are good baseball men, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that I find the word “experts” to be kinda funny since, y’know, Mr. T could manage a baseball team to a last place finish.)   The other one that burned my ass up was a letter from Seamus.  While peeling a potato and speaking his gripes into a Dragon Software-assisted PC, Seamus teed off on a fan letter from the previous week. It seems another fan was so jaded by the Mariners struggles over the past 1,162 games or so that he claims he’s giving up on baseball in general and the M’s in particular. Seamus goes on to say that if this person were a “true fan”, he/she would support the Mariners no matter what.   Let’s begin with Bruno and move on to Seamus.   I for one, don’t take offense to The Times gauging fan support for Beaven’s potential ouster from the rotation. I mean, it’s not like the question was, “Should Blake Beaven be drawn and quartered the next time he leaves an 0-2 fastball in the middle of the plate?” That would be over the line. But removed from the rotation? Not only is that a fair question but, and I can’t stress this enough, it IS left to the “experts” to determine. Do you really believe that Jack Zduriencik peruses the sports section of the local paper for roster management tips? When Beaven was demoted to Tacoma a few days after that paper went to press, do you think it was because a plurality of Times-reading fans were in favor of it? Or was it perhaps because he had an ERA pushing 6.00 and was only capable of winning a game when his team put up 21 runs? I’m gonna go with the latter.   As for this “true fan” nonsense, these words are uttered a lot. And it’s almost always a bit of a doofus saying/typing it. Seamus here seems to be no exception.   While I feel it’s a little, OK, a lot, dramatic to play the “You guys suck, so I’m not gonna watch baseball any more” card, it’s a narrow (and, as far as I’m concerned, completely incorrect) viewpoint to opine that such behavior is indicative of not being a “true fan.” Whatever the fuck that means. It would seem that Seamus’ version of a true fan is someone who is never critical of his favorite team. He or she is just as pleased to watch a 7-1 loss as they are a 7-1 victory and they probably think Two and a Half Men is the best television comedy of the 21st century.   Seamus did something fairly impressive- he annoyed me more with two words than Stephenie Meyer could in four novels. A person who is critical of their team’s performance is no less a true fan than someone who opposes a specific political policy is a true American. This is a cheap argument, this is a lazy argument. This is such a poor argument that I’m a little embarrassed I even opted to write about it, because it’s an argument completely without merit.   I watch or listen to about 155 out of 162 Mariners games every season. And when I miss one, it’s usually because, for one reason or another, I’m literally incapable of tuning in. Yet I have to endure these, these…circus animals telling me I’m somehow not a true fan because I want to watch a better product or because I’m not content to watch the M’s finish in last place every goddamn year. Well sir, I reject your illogical logic.   I don’t know what depresses me more: that people, actual living, breathing Earthlings, felt these things strongly enough to type them and send them to the newspaper….or that The Times is ostensibly so devoid of valid reader comments that they chose to print them. But, hey, this is a free country, right? Which means that Bruno and Seamus here are completely entitled to their opinions, no matter how silly they might seem to me. But that same free society similarly affords me the opportunity to carve up those opinions like so much mouth-watering roast beef. It’s my right as an American and, maybe more pertinently, it’s my right as a fan. And that’s the truth.

The Rebirth of R.A. Dickey

I’m no stranger to emphasizing the negative. Calling a blog No Balls and Three Strikes is kind of telling, no? In truth, much of this is done for comedic value. Even as a kid, I found George Costanza far funnier than Cosmo Kramer. What can I say, I get a kick out of gallows humor.   If you’re looking for a negative baseball story, it’s not hard to find. You’ve got the Justice Department’s pathetic case against a guy everyone knows used steroids. If you follow the Phillies, you could dwell on the 50 game PED suspension for rookie infielder Freddy Galvis. And if you’re a fan of the Cubs, Mariners, Padres or Twins, there’s always something to feel blue about. But there’s at least one story for 2012 that has to make you feel good: the emergence of Mets knuckleballer R.A. Dickey.   Dickey, 37, was drafted 18th overall by the Texas Rangers back in 1996. And though he’s now in possession of a career worthy of a first rounder, it wasn’t always that way. In fact, a full decade after being drafted, Dickey had recorded a mere 16 major league wins. His best earned run average over those three-plus MLB seasons was an underwhelming 5.09.   By 2006, the Rangers had finally given up on him and he spent a couple years bouncing around the minors, before being claimed in the Rule 5 Draft by the Mariners. His time in Seattle, however, was short lived and he eventually ended up in the Twins bullpen for the 2009 season. This is where the story takes a turn for the better.   Following the 2009 campaign, Dickey signed a minor league contract with the Mets and earned a spot on the team. From 2010-2011, Dickey was the Amazins’ most reliable starter. Though his win-loss record was modest, he posted ERA’s of 2.84 and 3.28.   Had he decided to hang it up following 2011, it wouldn’t have been a stretch to say that Dickey persevered and ultimately was a success. Obviously he didn’t call it quits. Though he did make another sort of significant announcement.   Back in March, Dickey published a memoir titled Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball. Among the things Dickey revealed was that, as an 8-year-old boy, he was sexually abused, first by a female babysitter, then by a teenage male. For years, he hid this truth from everyone, including his wife. He contemplated suicide. He explained his decision to come forward with this revelation:   “I have spent so much of my life running and hiding…..what would be the point in doing that- perpetuating untruth. It was important for me to tell the truth, to be completely authentic. Sharing the pain I went through is part of the healing for me, a catharsis in many ways.”   That last sentence may have been more revealing than Dickey knew: through the first two and a half months of the 2012 season, he’s been perhaps the finest pitcher in all of baseball. Following his second consecutive one-hitter last night (the first player do pull that off in a generation), Dickey is 11-1 with a 2.00 ERA.    Never much of a strikeout guy, he’s averaging more than a K per inning. At this very moment, Dickey leads the league in wins, ERA, strikeouts, games stated, walks and hits per inning pitched (WHIP), complete games and shutouts. He’s a mortal lock for his first All Star appearance and may well end up starting the game for the National League. Furthermore, he would have to be considered the early front runner for the NL Cy Young Award, a feat that hasn’t been accomplished by a Met since Dwight Gooden in 1985. (For a team that featured, among others, David Cone, Frank Viola, Bret Saberhagen and Johan Santana, that’s….astounding. What’s more, no Mets player has won Rookie of the Year in that span, nor has a Met EVER won league MVP honors. Damn.)   Whether Dickey’s relief from sharing those painful memories has played any part in his 2012 success, or he’s simply put it all together at the right time isn’t for me to say. Either way, his story is a legitimate feel good story. There are few professions that carry as much macho baggage as professional athlete. In spite of this, Dickey spoke out, both for his benefit and, hopefully, that of others.   Though Dickey’s streak of utter dominance will have to end some time, it’s truly a joy to watch. And, because knuckleballers put much less stress on their arms, it’s conceivable that he could still be baffling hitters a decade from now. Here’s hoping for just that.

The Gloaming (Or, Fuck This Fuckin’ Team)

The following was written last Friday, the afternoon following the San Diego Padres three game sweep of my Seattle Mariners.For a variety of reasons, I chose not to post it until today. “Your alarm bells, they should be ringing/This is the gloaming.” – Thom Yorke   The Mariners, of course, have been swept before. Why, just a few weeks ago, they dropped four straight to the Angels. But there were extenuating circumstances: Dan Haren pitched a fucking gem against them in the opener. Other than Philip Humber‘s perfect game, no pitcher has owned the M’s this year like Haren did (which is really saying something.) The following evening, Brandon League completely gave one away. Moreover, Albert Pujols chose that week to emerge from his early season slumber and, collectively, the Angels were firing on all cylinders. The M’s would have been lucky to take one out of four….but lucky they were not.   This was worse. So much worse. So bad, that, if I put the number of times I’m going to type “fuck” at, say, 30, you’d be a fool to take the under.   Last night, the Padres completed a three game sweep of the M’s. In Seattle.This is significant for several reasons, but one sticks out: the Padres are terrible, especially on the road. Over the first ten weeks of the season, they won a mere SIX road games. It took them all of 48 hours to push that number up 50%. Wait, that can’t be right….forget it.   Yes, 2012 in Seattle is primarily about developing players, rather than concentrating on wins and losses (I remind myself of this every day, yet it still infuriates me when a mediocre starting pitcher holds them to four hits over eight innings.) Nevertheless, what just happened is not OK.   (There was a moment immediately after last night’s 6-2 defeat in which I briefly reflected on how far the Mariners have fallen. I flashed back to that improbable 116 win season in 2001. Remember the final scene from The Godfather Part II, where Michael is sitting outside, looking back on how he’d pissed away everything that once mattered to him? We see a table full of family and…well, Family. And, other than Connie and Tom Hagen, everybody’s dead. Several, in fact, per Michael’s orders. Last night, I experienced the baseball equivalent of this, only it wasn’t my fault. The only member of that super team still on the roster is Ichiro. I can’t decide if he’d be Connie or Tom, though I’m leaning towards Connie because, like her, Ichiro becomes increasingly easy to dislike.)   There are a lot of things wrong with Mariners Version 2012. But none is as alarming as the team’s complete inability to hit in their home ballpark. People have offered up the possibility that playing in a pitcher’s park like the Safe has gotten into these young hitter’s heads. Yet whoever proposes this almost always goes on to say that’s probably not the case. These are pros after all. And those with a considerable public forum (reporters, talk show hosts, real writers) probably don’t feel comfortable directly making accusations like that. Well, I don’t have a considerable public forum, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it: it’s in their fucking heads. There’s no other explanation. None.   This collection of twentysomething hitters just came off a road trip in which they positively raked, against very good teams. They put up 21 runs against the Rangers who, by some accounts, are the most complete team in baseball. Two other times on the nine game trip, they scored ten runs. Eric Wedge went on and on about how this wasn’t the same group of hitters by the end of that trip. And who can blame him for saying or thinking that? But he was wrong.    Now, while I can’t prove it’s in their heads, I can certainly offer up stupid analogies that suggest as much. Let’s say you hate going out to clubs. You find the music obnoxious, the people pretentious and you flat out don’t like dancing. If you have to go to the club three, six, at the most, ten times a year, it might be manageable. Now imagine having to do it 81 times a year. What kind of havoc would that wreak on your psyche? Nobody enjoys hitting at Safeco Field. Unless they’re masochists.   Let’s take the biggest excuse off the table right away: yes, Safeco is too big (especially in the gaps) and, this time of year in particular, the cool, damp air can certainly hinder the progress of a batted ball. But other than Justin Smoak, who saw three potential home runs die in the glove of an opposing outfielder, that hasn’t been the problem. It’s not like Dustin Ackley and Brendan Ryan are killing the ball and coming ten feet shy of the fences. (That’s not to say I’m happy with the current dimensions. I’m not. I’d be quite disappointed if there weren’t changes this offseason, say, moving the fences in 5-10 feet in the gaps.) On the contrary, guys are simply putting together bad at bats on a consistent basis. Which, I hope we all realize, is pretty much the opposite of what good baseball players are expected to do. And though, believe it or not, I make a concerted effort to not pile on specific players (Chone Figgins being the exception), I just can’t help myself. Let’s start with the shortstop.   Brendan Ryan is arguably the greatest defensive shortstop in all of baseball. He seems to make at least one terrific play on a nightly basis. What is not arguable is that he’s also the worst hitter in the game. As soon as the he’s on a team with a .290 batting average or the Designated Fielder position is created, he will be a very valuable commodity. (I think I’ve used that line about Ryan recently but fuck it.)   Yes, he’s a tremendous shortstop. But I’m beginning to not really give a fuck. Run-saving defensive plays become a little irrelevant when your team can’t score any fucking runs in the first place. Great defender? I don’t fucking care if Ozzie Smith and Omar Vizquel nut in his fucking glove before every game- HE’S HITTING .154!!! In what fucking universe is this acceptable?!? Unfortunately, there are no better options. Which is just about the saddest thing I can imagine.   Ichiro is a likely first ballot Hall of Famer (please note that a year ago, I would have excluded the word “likely” from that sentence. Says a lot about the decline in his skills.) But he is pretty much the polar opposite of what this team needs. He’s a leadoff hitter who isn’t really a leadoff hitter, he occupies what should be a power spot over in right field and, though he will lead the team in hits like he always does, very few of them seem to come at opportune times. He only strikes out about 50 times a year, yet it feels like 48 of them come with a runner on third and less than two outs. He might be the least clutch superstar hitter of his generation.   And do you know what the worst thing about that fucking asshole is? (I’d like to immediately apologize both to you and to Ichiro for that.) He has absolutely no interest in being a team leader. Which is unfortunate because he would be immensely more valuable to the Mariners if he gave a fuck about anything besides collecting base hits.When Ichiro’s contract was on the verge of expiring back in 2007, I dreaded the thought of him playing elsewhere. Now I can’t fucking wait.   Who’s next? Where you at, Dustin Ackley? Before I get going, I’d like to pull back and, for the first time in this piece, be rational. I know Ackley is going to get better. I still expect him to develop into a .300 hitter good for 20-odd steals and decent extra base pop. But he’s not there yet. Not even close. Right now, he’s hovering around .240 and striking out way too fucking much for a guy with four home runs.    Now that I think about it, I almost feel bad about singling out specific players- everybody on the team is awful at home. Everybody. Kyle Seager is an All Star on the road. But he’s barely even a big leaguer at Safeco. If that doesn’t frighten you, then God help you. Do the weather and dimensions rob players of hits from time to time? Of course they do. If you have eyes, that’s impossible to ignore. But the weather plays absolutely no part in a guy stroking a single up the middle, or finding the gap for an extra base hit. Yogi Berra once famously opined that 90% of the game was half mental. For this young Mariners team, I fear it’s even worse than that impossible number. Fuck.   (Turns out “fuck” was only used fourteen, er, fifteen times- six times talking about Brendan Ryan alone. Which I’m actually strangely proud of.)

The Most Epic Interleague Rivalry of Them All!!!!!!!

Most every MLB team has an interleague “rival.” In most cases, this is based on geography. You’ve got the Subway Series (Mets vs Yankees), the Freeway Series (Dodgers vs Angels), the How the Fuck Did a State Made Up of 83% Octogenarians Get Two Major League Franchises? Series (Marlins vs Rays) and so on. Yet each of these pale in comparison to the epic struggle between the Seattle Mariners and San Diego Padres.   Alright, perhaps that’s a bit of an embellishment. But consider the other three rivalries I mentioned. The Yankees are good and the Mets suck (contrary to one of the first sentences I ever spoke: “The Mets are good and the Yankees stink.” Wasn’t true then and, aside from a three or four year window in the late 80s and early 90s, it hasn’t been true since.) The Halos and Dodgers have spent the vast majority of their histories in a similar predicament: Dodgers good, Angels not so good. And the biggest non-geographical similarity between the Marlins and Rays is, no matter how good they are, it’s virtually unheard of for more than 30,000 fans to show up on any given night. The M’s and Friars, on the other hand, are clearly cut from the same cloth. Let me explain.     1. Competitive Balance (and I use the word “competitive” rather loosely.) – When discussing baseball powerhouses, you know which franchises are seldom mentioned? You guessed it. The Mariners and Padres have spent the bulk of their existences as doormats. In a combined 78 seasons, neither team has won the World Series. The Friars have advanced to the Fall Classic twice- in 1984 and 1998- and were positively obliterated both times. The M’s have never even made it that far.   Both franchises are also adept at stating their desire to be “competitive.” Which, of course, is baseball shorthand for “We’re simply not interested enough to spend the kind of money that would make winning consistently a likely outcome.”   Last night, the M’s squared off against their hated rivals for the first time this season, dropping an unusually frustrating 5-4 decision. And the most frustrating thing about it was, it felt like nobody had any interest in winning this game. The Friars teed off on Felix Hernandez (who, by his recent struggles, appears to have been possessed by the spirit of Jeff Weaver), only to nearly piss the game away in the bottom of the ninth. Fortunately they were bailed out by the disgustingly bad plate discipline exhibited by Dustin Ackley and Jesus Montero. Say what you want about this rivalry not making sense- these teams were fucking made for each other.     2. They both play in the MLB equivalent of national parks. – Last year, the M’s leading power threat was Miguel Olivo (19 HR), while the Padres were led by Ryan Ludwick (he hit 11. I am not making this up.) There are probably two reasons both teams have massive power voids: 1. They’re not very good, and 2. Their home ballparks are unnecessarily large.   There’s been a great deal of talk lately about moving in the Safeco Field fences (especially in left-center, a veritable black hole at the Safe.) There are two questions opponents of moving them in conjure: the first: How would the pitchers feel about this? and Why didn’t the 2001 Mariners have any problems hitting here? Fortunately I have two answers: I think M’s pitchers would feel pretty good about it since the run support they’re currently “enjoying” is somewhat lacking. Next, the 2001 Mariners didn’t have trouble hitting at Safeco because….EVERYONE WAS ON FUCKING STEROIDS!!!!! I feel I’ve made my point.   The Friars’ home field, which goes by the unfortunate moniker Petco Park, might be even more of a challenge for hitters. It’s a small miracle that Adrian Gonzalez frequently flirted with 40 homers before he was mercifully dealt to Boston. So-called “pitchers parks” are death to winning baseball. Want proof? Take an inventory of the teams that have been the most successful over the last decade. How many play in such parks? Even the Tigers, who play home games in the largish Comerica Park, moved in the fences, and, whether coincidentally or not, have generally been better since. Is it a coincidence that the Mariners, Padres and Twins are among the worst teams in baseball? I say no (“you say ‘stop’/and I say ‘go, go, go!!'”)     3. Both teams are complete afterthoughts. – Blame in on “east coast bias” if you must, but neither the M’s nor the Padres are good bets to lead off a broadcast of SportsCenter. Unless they were on the receiving end of a perfect game or something. The Padres have the misfortune of competing (there’s that word again) for the SoCal market with the two Los Angeles franchises. And the Mariners play in what is sometimes referred to as “Southeast Alaska.” (I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again:that sentiment, in the modern age, is fucking ridiculous. You do know about that wacky new invention, the airplane, right? And how exactly is Seattle any more remote than, say, Denver? They’re both reasonably far from another major city. The biggest difference is, when you go to Seattle, you don’t need to bring enough oxygen to survive an afternoon in space.)   Of course, the whole “afterthought” thing could merely be a manifestation of the previous sentiments: neither team is good very often, they tend to play a boring, offensively-starved version of the game and they seldom go all in like the Yankees, Phillies or Red Sox do. If you’re a casual fan with no real rooting interest, would you rather watch the Yanks launch home runs in their shoe box-sized ballpark, or a 2-1 pitchers duel at Safeco, where the winning run scores on a ground ball to short?   Oh well. There are another two games left in this edge-of-your-seat thrill ride known as Mariners-Padres. And, if it’s any consolation, you might see some offense tonight: Hector Noesi is pitching for the M’s, and he’s fucking terrible. Even a team as offensively-challenged as the Pads could easily torch him for, say, six runs over four ineffective innings. I can hardly wait!