Previously, with Lo Duca and before him Piazza, the catcher was expected to be both a valuable component of the offense and one of the more media-prominent members of the team. This year marks something of a change in philosophy, as the Mets are looking to get fewer hits and quotes, in return for fewer passed balls and more thrown out base stealers.
Brian Schneider
Chinese Zodiac: Dragon
Career AVG/OBP/SLG: .252/.323/.377
I’m not sure how sold I am on the concept of a defense-first catcher. In the end, though, truly good hitting catchers are so hard to come by that perhaps the wise thing is to go with defense, which you can more or less count on, rather than overpay for a player like Paul LoDuca, who is a good hitter for a catcher but still not overwhelming in the context of major league line-ups in general. (In LoDuca’s case the issue is further confused because the two things that he excelled at, hitting for average and not striking out, are probably generally considered more valuable than they actually are) Still, half of a prized outfield prospect doesn’t exactly seem like a bargain, particularly because Schneider is already having hamstring problems in spring. I sincerely hope that Schneider is at least deeply adequate, just so that I won’t have to waste more energy cursing the Milledge deal.
UPDATE: Atlanta was able to tie the first North American regular season game in top of the nineth inning, thanks to a Paul LoDuca passed-ball, so Schneider seems like a little bit of a better idea all ready. And the Nationals won on a walkoff homer in the bottom of the nineth, so that was cool.
Ramon Castro
Chinese Zodiac: Dragon
Career AVG/OBP/SLG: 234/.310/.413
Ramon Castro’s solid hitting and defense are offset by the fact that he has never shown himself durable enough to catch a full season. What is it like being a perfect back-up catcher? Is it like going through life knowing that you excel at substitute teaching? If I were Willie Randolph I would see if I could sort of push things to the point where Schneider was more Castro’s backup than the other way around. The highlight of Castro’s spring came when he stuck a plastic cup onto Luis Castillo’s cap with several wads of bubblegum.
Others
“I got one that can throw but can't catch, one that can catch but can't throw, and one who can hit but can't do either.”
-Casey Stengel
Raul Casanova will probably start the season as the Mets back-up catcher, while Castro recovers from a hamstring injury. Casanova is part of a group of catchers in the Mets minor league system that includes Gustavo Molina and Robinson Cancel, who have had nice spring trainings but are each regarded as some combination of bad at hitting, bad at defense, or too old to be a viable, long-term option in the major leagues. Given the frailty of Castro and Schneider, I would not be even remotely surprised if, at some point in the season, the Mets go and overpay for a scrub to fill in behind the plate. In my uninformed opinion my, the Mets fucked up miserably last year when they allowed prized prospect Jesus Flores to be taken by the Nationals in the rule 5 draft; now they have almost no prospects at catcher, and a long-term solution better than Schneider seems unlikely.
Showing posts with label Paul LoDuca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul LoDuca. Show all posts
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Clemmens and Pettitte are Scum
At first, I was pretty excited: I’ve had lots of fun at Paul Lo Duca’s expense in the course of this blog and he just got named in the Mitchell Report. Paulie never hit for much power anyway, and I had a lot of quips planned about him asking for his money back.
The Mitchell report is part of a very strange genre of documents that collect stories and evidence of human foibles and fallibility in the form of official reports. In general, the goal of these documents is to eliminate any poignant or poetic relationship to their material, and deal only with firmly establishing facts, and use these facts to lead to pragmatic, defensible prescriptions. Occasionally, as a result of this essential hostility to a personal reality, documents of this sort offer moments that capture the human condition as poignantly as anything in literature. One such moment happens in the Mitchell report, when they quote notes from a discussion by Dodger’s officials regarding Lo Duca:
“Steroids aren't being used anymore on him. Big part of this. Might have some value to trade . . . Florida might have interest.. . . Got off the steroids . . . Took away a lot of hard line drives.. . . Can get comparable value back would consider trading. . . . If you do trade him, will get back on the stuff and try to show you he can have a good year. That's his makeup. Comes to play. Last year of contract, playing for 05.” [italics mine]
I found myself reading that over and over again. There are maybe two or three writers who could do something that good on purpose; create a situation in which two opposing principles were so thoroughly interwoven. It conveys, with beautiful efficiency, Lo Duca’s feistiness and pride, but in a voice that is almost psychopathically clinical. The clinical voice is aware of Lo Duca’s personality and is trying, in its clinical way, to fit him into their clinical plans; Lo Duca’s personality is a factor to be taken into account, either a positive or negative factor in their plans. You realize that, in the eyes of those who control him, Lo Duca is just like the horses that he famously bets on; you get the sense that Lo Duca sees this as well. If I ever saw a passage that strong in a Michael Chabon book, I would assume that he had gotten help from his mommy.
And, in case you missed this, the source here is notes from a meeting of Dodger’s team officials. Anyone who wants to place the blame for steroids on “bad players,” and not the entire managerial and administrative culture of MLB, is completely misinformed.
Except for Clemmens and Pettitte. Fuckers. Cheaters. Hypocrites. Sanctimonious shits. Child-molesters. All-American John Wayne scumbags who were so fucking clean, and so fucking choir boy, and so godamn white and such true Yankees and good guys AND ALL THE TIME THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS WERE CHEATING AS MUCH AS BARRY FUCKING BONDS. Clemmens, who will through a fastball at your head if you look at him funny, was too much of a wimp to inject himself with the ‘roids and had to get someone to do it for him. Yankees. (Clemmens mother died of cancer and it is a big deal for him that he is very sad about…before dieing of cancer she used to turn tricks at a leper colony.)
The Mitchell report is part of a very strange genre of documents that collect stories and evidence of human foibles and fallibility in the form of official reports. In general, the goal of these documents is to eliminate any poignant or poetic relationship to their material, and deal only with firmly establishing facts, and use these facts to lead to pragmatic, defensible prescriptions. Occasionally, as a result of this essential hostility to a personal reality, documents of this sort offer moments that capture the human condition as poignantly as anything in literature. One such moment happens in the Mitchell report, when they quote notes from a discussion by Dodger’s officials regarding Lo Duca:
“Steroids aren't being used anymore on him. Big part of this. Might have some value to trade . . . Florida might have interest.. . . Got off the steroids . . . Took away a lot of hard line drives.. . . Can get comparable value back would consider trading. . . . If you do trade him, will get back on the stuff and try to show you he can have a good year. That's his makeup. Comes to play. Last year of contract, playing for 05.” [italics mine]
I found myself reading that over and over again. There are maybe two or three writers who could do something that good on purpose; create a situation in which two opposing principles were so thoroughly interwoven. It conveys, with beautiful efficiency, Lo Duca’s feistiness and pride, but in a voice that is almost psychopathically clinical. The clinical voice is aware of Lo Duca’s personality and is trying, in its clinical way, to fit him into their clinical plans; Lo Duca’s personality is a factor to be taken into account, either a positive or negative factor in their plans. You realize that, in the eyes of those who control him, Lo Duca is just like the horses that he famously bets on; you get the sense that Lo Duca sees this as well. If I ever saw a passage that strong in a Michael Chabon book, I would assume that he had gotten help from his mommy.
And, in case you missed this, the source here is notes from a meeting of Dodger’s team officials. Anyone who wants to place the blame for steroids on “bad players,” and not the entire managerial and administrative culture of MLB, is completely misinformed.
Except for Clemmens and Pettitte. Fuckers. Cheaters. Hypocrites. Sanctimonious shits. Child-molesters. All-American John Wayne scumbags who were so fucking clean, and so fucking choir boy, and so godamn white and such true Yankees and good guys AND ALL THE TIME THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS WERE CHEATING AS MUCH AS BARRY FUCKING BONDS. Clemmens, who will through a fastball at your head if you look at him funny, was too much of a wimp to inject himself with the ‘roids and had to get someone to do it for him. Yankees. (Clemmens mother died of cancer and it is a big deal for him that he is very sad about…before dieing of cancer she used to turn tricks at a leper colony.)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Trip to Shea: 6/25
Baseball is a sort of slow game and following it diligently is a somewhat meditative process that becomes more rewarding as one’s knowledge increases, and in its final form endows one with a certain reverence for history. However, if one were ever to seriously doubt the American-ness of the sport, it would take only a very brief time at the ballpark to see that baseball is not our national pastime without cause.
The ballpark is like America. To sit in the warm summer air with several more hours of baseball ahead of you is delightful. The smell of the hotdogs and grease is delicious. The green of the field is beautiful. The feeling of unity, of shared hopes and fears with the teaming mass of fans is wonderful. There is something whimsical and mechanical about the grounds crews, like the figures on an elaborate coo coo clock. The seats all face inwards, towards one central project, yet one frequently looses the game to the antics of the fans, and the distractions and exultations to make noise that emanate from the big, neon screens. The seats are arranged in tiers, that are in fact clear demarcations of class, as the tiers correspond directly to changes in price; yet it would be somewhat uncouth (and, indeed, misleading) to form an opinion of one’s fellow fans based on how much they paid for their seats. You can’t spit without hitting someone trying to overcharge you for something that will make you fat.
The following observations are presented in approximately chronological order:
I showed up very early for the game, and paid five dollars for a wad of glossy advertising that happened to contain a score-card and the rosters. The score-keeping process was badly explained, in a poorly written, smarmy piece that uses (of all things) game 6 of the 1986 NLCS as an example. My efforts at keeping the score card ended after the third inning, when I decided that I found keeping it distracting and couldn’t find the symbol for “wandered off the bag and got caught in a run-down like a chump” which is what happened to Valentine in the first.
In many ways the high-point of the evening was watching Reyes and Carlos Gomez warm up before the game started. The energy and excitement of both young players, even as they did something as mundane as stretch out, was visible in the stands.
There were only a handful of players on the field during the national anthem, and they all stood for it, but with differing levels of attention. David Wright looked like he had wandered away from basic training. Paul Lo Duca also looked military but more like an embittered Clint Eastwood character, whose life is the army, because his wife left him, because she realized that his life was the army. Reyes and Gomez were fidgeting, and I think Delgado was talking to the trainer standing next to him out of the side of his mouth.
Lo Duca, perhaps because of his all-star election campaign and perhaps because of his recent ejection and impending suspension, was the only player whose name was regularly used as a chant (Paul—Lo—Duca, clap clap, clap clap), aside from the “ole/Jose” song.
Alcohol at the ballpark is primarily available in the form of domestic beers (Budweiser and Miller) sold in plastic bottles, that are specially designed so that the effects of getting hit with one will be minimal; one of these will set you back $7.50. I didn’t have one. In retrospect, I wish I had, if only so I could have gotten a first hand-look at the process by which they were distributed: I saw bottles in the hands of two men sitting several rows in front of me, who looked and acted very much underage—I would have imagined, however, that the carding process would be rigorous. Perhaps they had really good fakes? Back in the day, I would never have tested my fake ID in a place as well-lighted, organized and corporate as a ballpark.
Conversely, I never saw the four young men sitting in front of me with beer-bottles, but from overhearing their conversations I gathered the impression that they had been drinking. They liked to sing along with the jumbotrons, and one of them made a comment about how a sound clip of them slurring the words to “Enter the Sandman” should be put in an advertisement against teenage drinking; the fact that the guy thought that they would make “a million dollars” on that advertisement could probably be included in the commercial as well.
The primary interest of these four young fans was Billy Wagner, and they salivated whenever they posted his pitch speeds. On this night that made sense, as Wagner worked a scoreless ninth and tenth. Personally, I felt like Wags owed me that, since the last time I went to the park Reyes hit for the cycle and Wagner blew the save.
Prior to a Delgado at bat late in the games, they blasted the song “Mr. Roboto” and flashed the words “MISTER DELGADO” on the screen, along with clips of him doing impressive things. What the hell?
The picture of Keith Hernandez advertising “Just for Men” hair color that they show whenever a new pitcher is brought on (“stay in the game with Just for Men”) is one of the most atrocious pictorial representations of any human being ever. It makes him look like a combination of a used car salsmen and a terrifying, aging lounge-lizard-- which would, I guess, be a men’s hair-dye salesman.
Shawn Greene won the game with a walk-off homerun in the eleventh. The Mets piled onto the field behind home-plate and I exchanged high-fives with the four Wagner fans in front of me. The jubilation of the moment rendered irrelevant all the tawdry commercialism surrounding the ball-park. The yells of fans as we exited the stadium were louder, more vibrant, more real, than five dollar score cards and seven dollar beer.
The ballpark is like America. To sit in the warm summer air with several more hours of baseball ahead of you is delightful. The smell of the hotdogs and grease is delicious. The green of the field is beautiful. The feeling of unity, of shared hopes and fears with the teaming mass of fans is wonderful. There is something whimsical and mechanical about the grounds crews, like the figures on an elaborate coo coo clock. The seats all face inwards, towards one central project, yet one frequently looses the game to the antics of the fans, and the distractions and exultations to make noise that emanate from the big, neon screens. The seats are arranged in tiers, that are in fact clear demarcations of class, as the tiers correspond directly to changes in price; yet it would be somewhat uncouth (and, indeed, misleading) to form an opinion of one’s fellow fans based on how much they paid for their seats. You can’t spit without hitting someone trying to overcharge you for something that will make you fat.
The following observations are presented in approximately chronological order:
I showed up very early for the game, and paid five dollars for a wad of glossy advertising that happened to contain a score-card and the rosters. The score-keeping process was badly explained, in a poorly written, smarmy piece that uses (of all things) game 6 of the 1986 NLCS as an example. My efforts at keeping the score card ended after the third inning, when I decided that I found keeping it distracting and couldn’t find the symbol for “wandered off the bag and got caught in a run-down like a chump” which is what happened to Valentine in the first.
In many ways the high-point of the evening was watching Reyes and Carlos Gomez warm up before the game started. The energy and excitement of both young players, even as they did something as mundane as stretch out, was visible in the stands.
There were only a handful of players on the field during the national anthem, and they all stood for it, but with differing levels of attention. David Wright looked like he had wandered away from basic training. Paul Lo Duca also looked military but more like an embittered Clint Eastwood character, whose life is the army, because his wife left him, because she realized that his life was the army. Reyes and Gomez were fidgeting, and I think Delgado was talking to the trainer standing next to him out of the side of his mouth.
Lo Duca, perhaps because of his all-star election campaign and perhaps because of his recent ejection and impending suspension, was the only player whose name was regularly used as a chant (Paul—Lo—Duca, clap clap, clap clap), aside from the “ole/Jose” song.
Alcohol at the ballpark is primarily available in the form of domestic beers (Budweiser and Miller) sold in plastic bottles, that are specially designed so that the effects of getting hit with one will be minimal; one of these will set you back $7.50. I didn’t have one. In retrospect, I wish I had, if only so I could have gotten a first hand-look at the process by which they were distributed: I saw bottles in the hands of two men sitting several rows in front of me, who looked and acted very much underage—I would have imagined, however, that the carding process would be rigorous. Perhaps they had really good fakes? Back in the day, I would never have tested my fake ID in a place as well-lighted, organized and corporate as a ballpark.
Conversely, I never saw the four young men sitting in front of me with beer-bottles, but from overhearing their conversations I gathered the impression that they had been drinking. They liked to sing along with the jumbotrons, and one of them made a comment about how a sound clip of them slurring the words to “Enter the Sandman” should be put in an advertisement against teenage drinking; the fact that the guy thought that they would make “a million dollars” on that advertisement could probably be included in the commercial as well.
The primary interest of these four young fans was Billy Wagner, and they salivated whenever they posted his pitch speeds. On this night that made sense, as Wagner worked a scoreless ninth and tenth. Personally, I felt like Wags owed me that, since the last time I went to the park Reyes hit for the cycle and Wagner blew the save.
Prior to a Delgado at bat late in the games, they blasted the song “Mr. Roboto” and flashed the words “MISTER DELGADO” on the screen, along with clips of him doing impressive things. What the hell?
The picture of Keith Hernandez advertising “Just for Men” hair color that they show whenever a new pitcher is brought on (“stay in the game with Just for Men”) is one of the most atrocious pictorial representations of any human being ever. It makes him look like a combination of a used car salsmen and a terrifying, aging lounge-lizard-- which would, I guess, be a men’s hair-dye salesman.
Shawn Greene won the game with a walk-off homerun in the eleventh. The Mets piled onto the field behind home-plate and I exchanged high-fives with the four Wagner fans in front of me. The jubilation of the moment rendered irrelevant all the tawdry commercialism surrounding the ball-park. The yells of fans as we exited the stadium were louder, more vibrant, more real, than five dollar score cards and seven dollar beer.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Internet at the ballpark
I’m back on the weird schedule and only catching the last couple minutes of games on television. Generally, I find other things about the schedule redeeming and can get over it, (don’t have to wake up at any particular time… well, that’s really the main one) but last night I particularly wished that I’d been able to see more of the game.
Not merely because a resounding offensive performance, and a well pitched game would have been balm for the weary soul of a blogger disheartened by the recent tribulations in the Bronx, but also because the Shea faithful apparently launched a full-on “vote Lo Duca” campaign to get the fiery, blue-color catcher voted onto the All-Star ballot, where he was trailing by a significant margin.
The campaign was apparently somewhat successful. Although the catcher himself, according to his post-game comments, did not take to the polls, some of his teammates did. Carlos Delgado, who also had a break out night hitting 2 of 4, with a homer, claimed that he voted on-line five times in the fifth inning.
Wait a minute, how?…I guess it is pretty naïve of me, in this information day and age, but clubhouses are wired for internet? Really? Is it wireless? Do players bring laptops with them to the game? Or is there just a public terminal and they all take turns checking their e-mail between innings? Or did Delgado use a blackberry? Or is web access a privilege reserved for senior players (perhaps they are allowed to go into the manager’s office, which logically would have a web connection), and Carlos Gomez has to go home to write himself in for the all-star ballot?
I’m really curious. I guess, I’d also like to take a good look at some complicated statistics about batting averages, ERAs, on-base percentages, and all that before and after the installation of the internet. Or are their still parks that don’t have web access in them, and what do statistics look like in those parks as compared to the ones that do?
I guess I’m going to start posting more during games, so that the Metropolitans will be able to take my insight and wisdom onto the field with them, in real time.
Not merely because a resounding offensive performance, and a well pitched game would have been balm for the weary soul of a blogger disheartened by the recent tribulations in the Bronx, but also because the Shea faithful apparently launched a full-on “vote Lo Duca” campaign to get the fiery, blue-color catcher voted onto the All-Star ballot, where he was trailing by a significant margin.
The campaign was apparently somewhat successful. Although the catcher himself, according to his post-game comments, did not take to the polls, some of his teammates did. Carlos Delgado, who also had a break out night hitting 2 of 4, with a homer, claimed that he voted on-line five times in the fifth inning.
Wait a minute, how?…I guess it is pretty naïve of me, in this information day and age, but clubhouses are wired for internet? Really? Is it wireless? Do players bring laptops with them to the game? Or is there just a public terminal and they all take turns checking their e-mail between innings? Or did Delgado use a blackberry? Or is web access a privilege reserved for senior players (perhaps they are allowed to go into the manager’s office, which logically would have a web connection), and Carlos Gomez has to go home to write himself in for the all-star ballot?
I’m really curious. I guess, I’d also like to take a good look at some complicated statistics about batting averages, ERAs, on-base percentages, and all that before and after the installation of the internet. Or are their still parks that don’t have web access in them, and what do statistics look like in those parks as compared to the ones that do?
I guess I’m going to start posting more during games, so that the Metropolitans will be able to take my insight and wisdom onto the field with them, in real time.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Thoughts on Leadership, Aging
During last night’s broadcast, Ron Darling had one of those moments, which I assume all ex-pro sports casters are contractually obliged to have, where he blithely jumped from calling into question the current Mets team’s intensity and conduct (there had apparently been laughter coming from the showers while Glavine was giving his post-mortem comments on Sunday’s game), to claiming that today the entire game is played with a lack of toughens and respect—he referred to the modern ball player as “sensitive” and whined about them listening to their i-pods on the team flight, instead of commiserating with pitchers and figuring out how to win. To back this all up he told a story about how upset he was after a tough loss for the Mets in the ‘80s, where he would have won if anyone had gotten a hit; but after the game the position players were apparently more interested in college football than why they screwed over Ron Darling. Of course this actually makes the opposite point, and one would not be surprised to learn that throughout the game’s history there have been things somewhat more compelling to certain players than their immediate failings—and I seem to recall that in the ‘80s the Mets were pretty good, despite the preference of football over Darling.
I’m not generally tempted to listen to people who are being crotchety, but there are actually some points here. It’s hard to tell if the Mets are just on a run of awful luck, or if they are losing because they are taking things for granted and not “doing the little things that it takes to win.” Well, I guess it is actually pretty clearly a combination of the two, but there is no way of knowing which is the principal factor. Darling and Gary Cohen seemed to think that the answer is for one of the veterans to step up and get the clubhouse in order—the only candidate that they discussed at any length was Paul Lo Duca, although Julio Franco’s name was also mentioned.
For my money, I wish it could be Carlos Delgado—although there are a myriad of reasons why it probably can’t. The principal of these is that, perhaps more than any other single factor, the Met’s current problems are a result of just how god awful Delgado has been this year. Lately, Delgado has been hitting approximately nothing with runners in scoring position, and while he has been hitting more home runs, they have generally come without runners on base. Then there is the feeling that things have never been exactly right between Delgado and the team brass: they tried to recruit him as a free agent in 2005, but he found their efforts to woo him patronizing and offensive and signed with the Marlins instead; when they traded for him before 2006, everything was supposed to be resolved, but it is still hard to know how well he gets along, as a proud and clearly intelligent Latino, on a team owned by the Wilpons and in a clubhouse that seems to be dominated by venerable old white guys like Tom Glavine and Billy Wagner.
Beyond these issues, I think that Delgado is the perfect person to lead the team—in previous years he has been the definition of clutch and he clearly commands the respect of most people who know him. There are tons of things that point to the idea that Delgado is a man of uncommon character-- from his charitable efforts to, quite frankly, his refusal to sign with a team that he felt treated him condescendingly. Perhaps most telling was the fact that, during last year’s post season, Lo Duca published a comment about how Delgado was a great man both on and off the field—which I found significant because Delgado’s politics are openly left of center and Lo Duca seems to spend all the time that he can spare from the ponies signing baseball caps for soldiers and policemen. I wish that it were Delgado’s team…but if he just felt like getting a couple of RBIs I’d take that too.
On a kind of an opposite note: Willie Randolph needs to buy a water-board and a cattle-prod, and go to work on Carlos Gomez if he ever even thinks about hitting a home run again. What’s the point of being faster than Jose Reyes if you hit the ball out of the park? There isn’t one.
Oh, and condolences to Jose Reyes: yesterday was his birthday. I’m about two months younger than the star shortstop, and I’m already shaking in fear at the mere idea of being twenty-four… and it’s not like people start questioning your fitness for library work when you turn thirty-five.
I’m not generally tempted to listen to people who are being crotchety, but there are actually some points here. It’s hard to tell if the Mets are just on a run of awful luck, or if they are losing because they are taking things for granted and not “doing the little things that it takes to win.” Well, I guess it is actually pretty clearly a combination of the two, but there is no way of knowing which is the principal factor. Darling and Gary Cohen seemed to think that the answer is for one of the veterans to step up and get the clubhouse in order—the only candidate that they discussed at any length was Paul Lo Duca, although Julio Franco’s name was also mentioned.
For my money, I wish it could be Carlos Delgado—although there are a myriad of reasons why it probably can’t. The principal of these is that, perhaps more than any other single factor, the Met’s current problems are a result of just how god awful Delgado has been this year. Lately, Delgado has been hitting approximately nothing with runners in scoring position, and while he has been hitting more home runs, they have generally come without runners on base. Then there is the feeling that things have never been exactly right between Delgado and the team brass: they tried to recruit him as a free agent in 2005, but he found their efforts to woo him patronizing and offensive and signed with the Marlins instead; when they traded for him before 2006, everything was supposed to be resolved, but it is still hard to know how well he gets along, as a proud and clearly intelligent Latino, on a team owned by the Wilpons and in a clubhouse that seems to be dominated by venerable old white guys like Tom Glavine and Billy Wagner.
Beyond these issues, I think that Delgado is the perfect person to lead the team—in previous years he has been the definition of clutch and he clearly commands the respect of most people who know him. There are tons of things that point to the idea that Delgado is a man of uncommon character-- from his charitable efforts to, quite frankly, his refusal to sign with a team that he felt treated him condescendingly. Perhaps most telling was the fact that, during last year’s post season, Lo Duca published a comment about how Delgado was a great man both on and off the field—which I found significant because Delgado’s politics are openly left of center and Lo Duca seems to spend all the time that he can spare from the ponies signing baseball caps for soldiers and policemen. I wish that it were Delgado’s team…but if he just felt like getting a couple of RBIs I’d take that too.
On a kind of an opposite note: Willie Randolph needs to buy a water-board and a cattle-prod, and go to work on Carlos Gomez if he ever even thinks about hitting a home run again. What’s the point of being faster than Jose Reyes if you hit the ball out of the park? There isn’t one.
Oh, and condolences to Jose Reyes: yesterday was his birthday. I’m about two months younger than the star shortstop, and I’m already shaking in fear at the mere idea of being twenty-four… and it’s not like people start questioning your fitness for library work when you turn thirty-five.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
DAMN IT!
Everything about the last two games completely sucks, but last night’s game…oh man.
First off: Endy Chavez is injured, and it looks bad. Well fuck. Endy was always the Met’s ace in the hole; Endy always got them the hit, or made the play that it seemed that they didn’t quite deserve to get; Endy is about 60% of the reason that I am thinking of moving to Venezuela. Endy was what allowed the entire starting outfield to go gimpy on us without anyone really freaking out or even noticing—in fact Endy’s presence on the bench, is probably what allowed Minaya to sign an outfield of brittle old dinosaurs, without anyone seriously questioning his sanity. Moises Alou makes a hell of a lot more sense if you can bring Chavez in for defense, days off, and the inevitable periods when Alou is injured—one of which we are in right now, and which does not seem likely to end anytime soon.
And Easely came up with a bum knee before the game, marvelous…the silver lineing is that this might exactly coincide with the return of Valentin.
Way to be injured right now, Lastings Milledge: the club is so strapped for outfielders that he’d be getting playing time even if he had been collaborating with Don Imus on the hip-hop adaptation of the works of the Marquis De Sade (instead of putting a track on his website that would only offend someone who had never listened to hip-hop). But he’s injured, so we’ll probably get to see some Ricky Ledee. Awesome.
Also, screw you, Aaron Heilman. I try real hard to like you, honest. I got much sympathy for the whole ‘I want to start but they won’t let me start’ thing, that seems like a bummer. But you gotta stop losing us games. Seriously.
Casey Stengel once remarked that “good pitching will always stop good hitting and vice versa.” Right now, both his old teams are built primarily around that “vice versa,” and this season (along with, oh I don’t know, THE ENTIRE GOD DAMN HISTORY OF MAJOR LEAUGE BASEBALL) is serving to prove that this is a seriously flawed premise. The Mets are where they are because their pitching has been outstanding, through no fault of the general management. Going into the season the odds that either Maine or Perez would show themselves to be a major bum were more than decent; the fact that they have both been excellent so far (knock on wood… oh please god don’t let me jinx those poor kids) is a serious piece of luck. The hell there was any sane reason to think that Jorge Sosa was going to stroll out of the minors and be lights out, but that happened and that has been huge. Going into the season everyone said that the bullpen was the club’s weakness, but it has been outstanding and one of the club’s major strengths; at the same time, the fact that it has lost two games in a row to the Phillies (who hardly even have a bullpen) shouldn’t actually shock anyone, given the initial doubts about it.
The strength of the Mets, and the Yankees, is supposed to be their offence. Delgado, Reyes, Wright, and Beltran are supposed to be coming up with key hits, and they are not. The Mets had chances to win last night’s game and score more runs, but they did not do that. The main difference between the Mets and the Yankees is that with the former the pitching has been far better than expected and with the latter it has been far, far worse.
Billy Wagner and Paul Lo Duca have apparently been calling the team out, and saying that it is not playing with the ‘fire’ that it had last year. Perhaps. Lo Duca is the same old singles machine that he ever was (knock on wood again), so I guess that he can say whatever he wants. Wagner has also been technically brilliant, converting all of his save opportunities. He’s still either a disturbing adrenaline junky or not quite the pitcher that everyone thinks, because he makes it interesting and puts runners on base, or gives up any runs that he might have to spare. I hate to do this, but I predict Wagner’s first blown save for either tonight, or sometime on the upcoming inter-league road trip. Again, sorry. Hope I’m wrong.
First off: Endy Chavez is injured, and it looks bad. Well fuck. Endy was always the Met’s ace in the hole; Endy always got them the hit, or made the play that it seemed that they didn’t quite deserve to get; Endy is about 60% of the reason that I am thinking of moving to Venezuela. Endy was what allowed the entire starting outfield to go gimpy on us without anyone really freaking out or even noticing—in fact Endy’s presence on the bench, is probably what allowed Minaya to sign an outfield of brittle old dinosaurs, without anyone seriously questioning his sanity. Moises Alou makes a hell of a lot more sense if you can bring Chavez in for defense, days off, and the inevitable periods when Alou is injured—one of which we are in right now, and which does not seem likely to end anytime soon.
And Easely came up with a bum knee before the game, marvelous…the silver lineing is that this might exactly coincide with the return of Valentin.
Way to be injured right now, Lastings Milledge: the club is so strapped for outfielders that he’d be getting playing time even if he had been collaborating with Don Imus on the hip-hop adaptation of the works of the Marquis De Sade (instead of putting a track on his website that would only offend someone who had never listened to hip-hop). But he’s injured, so we’ll probably get to see some Ricky Ledee. Awesome.
Also, screw you, Aaron Heilman. I try real hard to like you, honest. I got much sympathy for the whole ‘I want to start but they won’t let me start’ thing, that seems like a bummer. But you gotta stop losing us games. Seriously.
Casey Stengel once remarked that “good pitching will always stop good hitting and vice versa.” Right now, both his old teams are built primarily around that “vice versa,” and this season (along with, oh I don’t know, THE ENTIRE GOD DAMN HISTORY OF MAJOR LEAUGE BASEBALL) is serving to prove that this is a seriously flawed premise. The Mets are where they are because their pitching has been outstanding, through no fault of the general management. Going into the season the odds that either Maine or Perez would show themselves to be a major bum were more than decent; the fact that they have both been excellent so far (knock on wood… oh please god don’t let me jinx those poor kids) is a serious piece of luck. The hell there was any sane reason to think that Jorge Sosa was going to stroll out of the minors and be lights out, but that happened and that has been huge. Going into the season everyone said that the bullpen was the club’s weakness, but it has been outstanding and one of the club’s major strengths; at the same time, the fact that it has lost two games in a row to the Phillies (who hardly even have a bullpen) shouldn’t actually shock anyone, given the initial doubts about it.
The strength of the Mets, and the Yankees, is supposed to be their offence. Delgado, Reyes, Wright, and Beltran are supposed to be coming up with key hits, and they are not. The Mets had chances to win last night’s game and score more runs, but they did not do that. The main difference between the Mets and the Yankees is that with the former the pitching has been far better than expected and with the latter it has been far, far worse.
Billy Wagner and Paul Lo Duca have apparently been calling the team out, and saying that it is not playing with the ‘fire’ that it had last year. Perhaps. Lo Duca is the same old singles machine that he ever was (knock on wood again), so I guess that he can say whatever he wants. Wagner has also been technically brilliant, converting all of his save opportunities. He’s still either a disturbing adrenaline junky or not quite the pitcher that everyone thinks, because he makes it interesting and puts runners on base, or gives up any runs that he might have to spare. I hate to do this, but I predict Wagner’s first blown save for either tonight, or sometime on the upcoming inter-league road trip. Again, sorry. Hope I’m wrong.
Monday, May 7, 2007
I won the Kentucky Derby!!
More accurately, I failed to bet on the Kentucky Derby do to laziness, doubt about where to put my money, and a lack of initiative- but none of the horses that I had been remotely considering did anything, so I say I won.
I had big plans for the Kentucky Derby. I was going to put my money on the horse Paul Lo Duca picked, and then use the winnings to buy a Paul Lo Duca jersey. Then, armed with the jersey of a notorious gambler, purchased with Kentucky Derby winnings- which would have to figure to be one of the luckiest shirts of all time- I was going to go and break the bank at Mohegan Sun and get out of the sub-sub-librarian racket.
But Major League Baseball put a damper on things from the start: they don’t even sell a Paul Lo Duca jersey. Except for a ‘80s retro jersey, and I’m not sure that insanely expensive baseball kitsch can ever really be lucky.
Paul Lo Duca’s derby credentials are basically that he picked Giacamo, one of the biggest upsets in Derby history, to win in 2005. That year, a George Steinbrenner owned horse, Bellamy Road, was so heavily favored that experts were wondering why they were even bothering to run the race; but Bellamy Road finished way out of it and was last seen giving rides at one of Mariano Rivera’s kid’s birthday parties. You have to figure that the picks of a guy who catches for the Mets, and won on an upset in a year when Steinbrenner lost, would be pretty damn lucky.
Before the 2005 Derby, Drew and I went to the track at Aqueduct. Drew won big on Bellamy Road, and latter achieved a victory similar to the one that I had this year in the Kentucky Derby.
Anyway, this year Lo Duca picked Tiago, half brother to Giacamo, from the same breeder and trainer, and ridden by Mike Smith, who is apparently a friend of Lo Duca’s. According to the few turf-for-dummies type sources that I checked, Tiago didn’t look any better than his half-brother going into the thing and paid significantly worse. Thus, it seemed that Lo Duca was picking a bad horse for sentimental reasons- and while my trust in Lo Duca was based on a feeling that his pick would be lucky, I was unsure about weather luck would outweigh stupidity. Normally, I chose horses based on long odds and funny names, but this year there was nothing that really appealed to me, and after Lo Duca homered in Friday’s game, I had almost decided to go and put my shirt on Tiago. Fortunately, the line at the OTB on the Upper East Side was ridiculously long, and I realized that I had to get back to work.
I had big plans for the Kentucky Derby. I was going to put my money on the horse Paul Lo Duca picked, and then use the winnings to buy a Paul Lo Duca jersey. Then, armed with the jersey of a notorious gambler, purchased with Kentucky Derby winnings- which would have to figure to be one of the luckiest shirts of all time- I was going to go and break the bank at Mohegan Sun and get out of the sub-sub-librarian racket.
But Major League Baseball put a damper on things from the start: they don’t even sell a Paul Lo Duca jersey. Except for a ‘80s retro jersey, and I’m not sure that insanely expensive baseball kitsch can ever really be lucky.
Paul Lo Duca’s derby credentials are basically that he picked Giacamo, one of the biggest upsets in Derby history, to win in 2005. That year, a George Steinbrenner owned horse, Bellamy Road, was so heavily favored that experts were wondering why they were even bothering to run the race; but Bellamy Road finished way out of it and was last seen giving rides at one of Mariano Rivera’s kid’s birthday parties. You have to figure that the picks of a guy who catches for the Mets, and won on an upset in a year when Steinbrenner lost, would be pretty damn lucky.
Before the 2005 Derby, Drew and I went to the track at Aqueduct. Drew won big on Bellamy Road, and latter achieved a victory similar to the one that I had this year in the Kentucky Derby.
Anyway, this year Lo Duca picked Tiago, half brother to Giacamo, from the same breeder and trainer, and ridden by Mike Smith, who is apparently a friend of Lo Duca’s. According to the few turf-for-dummies type sources that I checked, Tiago didn’t look any better than his half-brother going into the thing and paid significantly worse. Thus, it seemed that Lo Duca was picking a bad horse for sentimental reasons- and while my trust in Lo Duca was based on a feeling that his pick would be lucky, I was unsure about weather luck would outweigh stupidity. Normally, I chose horses based on long odds and funny names, but this year there was nothing that really appealed to me, and after Lo Duca homered in Friday’s game, I had almost decided to go and put my shirt on Tiago. Fortunately, the line at the OTB on the Upper East Side was ridiculously long, and I realized that I had to get back to work.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Pelfrey
Everyone loves coming of age stories, perhaps because in actual life there is not really any such thing-- all the rites of passage that we pass leave us no more prepared or less confused than we had been on the other side of them; all our Conformations, Bar Mitzvahs, and Graduations merely so many moldy rabbits feet hanging from our key chains, as we realize that what is called Maturity is merely a greater proximity to death (not the illuminating, consummately desirable virtue that our elders had commanded us to cultivate) and begin to change Wonder for Fear.
Anyway, baseball hangs out somewhere on the fringes of ‘actual life’ and so we were not prevented from seeing a nice coming of age story out of Mike Pelfrey last night. Pelfrey had been terrible in all of his previous starts, and I was frankly for sending him back to the minors and seeing if Humber or Park or Sosa or somebody could do a better job. But, after being terrible again in the first inning, Pelfrey got it together and was good for another five and a third, leading one to believe that, particularly if he is able to use last night’s start as a source of lessons and confidence, Pelfrey might be a good guy to have around. The encouraging thing was that he seemed to be mainly getting outs with groundballs, which is what is supposed to happen when he has his stuff-- previous outings had featured fly balls and strike outs.
On the other hand, Willie Randolph’s line-up tinkering is making me nervous, since it seems to indicate that the skipper is deeply concerned with how things are going—and I’m assuming that Randolph is slightly better informed than I am. As has come up before, I am not a proponent of Wright batting second, partially because I am not convinced that Wright has the best make-up for a number two hitter, but also because I feel that spots other than the two-hole make less than optimal use of Lo Duca’s talents. At this point, of course, things are still up in the air, since Lo Duca and Wright both had decent nights at the plate, and the Mets lost anyway. Well, at least they aren’t as screwed as the Yankees (now that’s not something that Mets fans get to say all that often), whose young pitcher’s first successful outing was cut short with a hamstring injury that could have him out for weeks.
After consulting the Canadian Quarter of Pitching Perdictivity, I am sorry to inform you that Perez is going to have a rough outing to-day.
BASKETBALL NOTE: There was a weird moment in last night’s game between Dallas and Golden State, where both teams realized that they had no chance at all of winning the series: Dallas, because they haven’t been playing terrifically and are facing elimination for the rest of the way, and the Warriors because they are the Golden State Warriors trying to eliminate the Dallas freaking Mavericks.
Anyway, baseball hangs out somewhere on the fringes of ‘actual life’ and so we were not prevented from seeing a nice coming of age story out of Mike Pelfrey last night. Pelfrey had been terrible in all of his previous starts, and I was frankly for sending him back to the minors and seeing if Humber or Park or Sosa or somebody could do a better job. But, after being terrible again in the first inning, Pelfrey got it together and was good for another five and a third, leading one to believe that, particularly if he is able to use last night’s start as a source of lessons and confidence, Pelfrey might be a good guy to have around. The encouraging thing was that he seemed to be mainly getting outs with groundballs, which is what is supposed to happen when he has his stuff-- previous outings had featured fly balls and strike outs.
On the other hand, Willie Randolph’s line-up tinkering is making me nervous, since it seems to indicate that the skipper is deeply concerned with how things are going—and I’m assuming that Randolph is slightly better informed than I am. As has come up before, I am not a proponent of Wright batting second, partially because I am not convinced that Wright has the best make-up for a number two hitter, but also because I feel that spots other than the two-hole make less than optimal use of Lo Duca’s talents. At this point, of course, things are still up in the air, since Lo Duca and Wright both had decent nights at the plate, and the Mets lost anyway. Well, at least they aren’t as screwed as the Yankees (now that’s not something that Mets fans get to say all that often), whose young pitcher’s first successful outing was cut short with a hamstring injury that could have him out for weeks.
After consulting the Canadian Quarter of Pitching Perdictivity, I am sorry to inform you that Perez is going to have a rough outing to-day.
BASKETBALL NOTE: There was a weird moment in last night’s game between Dallas and Golden State, where both teams realized that they had no chance at all of winning the series: Dallas, because they haven’t been playing terrifically and are facing elimination for the rest of the way, and the Warriors because they are the Golden State Warriors trying to eliminate the Dallas freaking Mavericks.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Opening Day
In the 48 hours proceeding last night’s game I had worked myself on into a frenzied state of anxiety about the rotation and the bullpen. The low point came when I was on my way home on Saturday night, and got into a conversation with a fan on the N train, who shared my apprehensions about Wagner (he disagreed, however, with my assertion that we had to wait seventeen hours for the start of baseball, dating the start of the season to when he began ‘drinking and watching movies’ with his friends, which event was apparently scheduled for somewhat earlier). By Sunday I was capable of nothing except for watching the re-play of the 2006 division clincher on SNY, which, for some reason, I found fascinating.
Anyway, it is pretty difficult to want the opener to go much better than it did. Scoring five runs off of Chris Carpenter is always a good thing; six innings of one-run ball from Glavine is always appreciated. The defense, which has been maligned by sports writing sources lately, was fantastic- Reyes and Valentine showing themselves to still be double-play artists, Beltran with an excellent outfield assist, Lo Duca more than solid behind the plate, and, perhaps most pleasantly, a very nice diving catch from Alou. The bullpen, despite their best efforts, pitched three innings of scoreless relief.
Actually, for all the base runners they allowed, I am most impressed with the relievers. Particularly, since I skimmed a piece in the Daily News calling it into question, I think the choice to use Joe Smith for most of the eighth was excellent. What is best about it is that Willie Randolph is telling everyone who cares to listen that the individual win is less important to this club than the information about how one of their young relievers will perform under pressure. Randolph doesn’t need to play mind games with the Cardinals, and the opportunity to see what Smith would do against Albert Pujols (walked him) was more irreplaceable than the opportunity to notch up a W- Randolph seems to think that they will have opportunities to do the latter all season long.
As for Smith’s actual performance, there are a couple of ways of looking at it. He faced three batters and gave out a walk and a hit, and recorded one strike-out. On the other hand, barely out of college, in his first-ever big league appearance, he faced three batters from the reigning world champions, including the best hitter in baseball, and didn’t give up any runs, and that’s pretty good.
It seems sort of unfair that they have an off day today. But after waiting all winter for game 1, I guess I can wait until Tuesday for game 2- barely.
Anyway, it is pretty difficult to want the opener to go much better than it did. Scoring five runs off of Chris Carpenter is always a good thing; six innings of one-run ball from Glavine is always appreciated. The defense, which has been maligned by sports writing sources lately, was fantastic- Reyes and Valentine showing themselves to still be double-play artists, Beltran with an excellent outfield assist, Lo Duca more than solid behind the plate, and, perhaps most pleasantly, a very nice diving catch from Alou. The bullpen, despite their best efforts, pitched three innings of scoreless relief.
Actually, for all the base runners they allowed, I am most impressed with the relievers. Particularly, since I skimmed a piece in the Daily News calling it into question, I think the choice to use Joe Smith for most of the eighth was excellent. What is best about it is that Willie Randolph is telling everyone who cares to listen that the individual win is less important to this club than the information about how one of their young relievers will perform under pressure. Randolph doesn’t need to play mind games with the Cardinals, and the opportunity to see what Smith would do against Albert Pujols (walked him) was more irreplaceable than the opportunity to notch up a W- Randolph seems to think that they will have opportunities to do the latter all season long.
As for Smith’s actual performance, there are a couple of ways of looking at it. He faced three batters and gave out a walk and a hit, and recorded one strike-out. On the other hand, barely out of college, in his first-ever big league appearance, he faced three batters from the reigning world champions, including the best hitter in baseball, and didn’t give up any runs, and that’s pretty good.
It seems sort of unfair that they have an off day today. But after waiting all winter for game 1, I guess I can wait until Tuesday for game 2- barely.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
"Sam from Queens"
I started a post about Carlos Delgado and politics, but I think that the last post was pretty good, so I’m just gonna lay some “Sam from Queens” type thoughts (uninformed, yet adamant, opinions on how the club should be run) on you, just so no one develops too high of a standard. Here goes:
The HELL David Wright should bat second. Probably, Willie Randolph had better things to do in the off-season (family or some crap), so he can be forgiven for not having gone to Mets.com on a regular basis to see if there were any trade rumors to take his mind off of the deadening madness that is life- however, if he had, he would have been regularly reminded that Paul Lo Duca led the team in batting average (Pedro Feliciano led it in ERA). The main thing about the Mets number 2 hitter is not so much their production, as how good a job they do of giving Jose Reyes a chance to steal- everyone knows this. David Wright is an RBI guy who can hit for power; Lo Duca is a contact hitter, generally one of the best in the game, who rarely strikes out. Part of why Lo Duca excelled last season was his patience at the plate, his willingness to take pitches, to go to 0-2, in order to give Reyes as many opportunities to swipe a bag as possible. Essentially, this involves balancing TWO tasks at the same time (hitting the ball and looking after Reyes) - this is not something that I imagine Wright being capable off. I see Wright as a simple man, with simple tastes, whose brain has about enough room for one concept at any given moment- when that concept is “hit the ball hard” things seem to work out. Last season Lo Duca was able to successfully juggle a gambling problem, a messy divorce, and hit .318. A lot of the criticism about Lo Duca is that he is not fast enough to be an ideal number 2 hitter, and this is clearly true. However, given the power behind him in the line-up (Beltran, Delgado, and Wright) speed is less important for him than it would be for other number 2 hitters. Honestly, if they are that keen on having someone faster than Lo Duca hit second, I think the clear choice is actually Beltran. Beltran can hit for average and has good speed, and, I think most importantly, probably has the maturity and concentration to bat with Reyes on first, at least more successfully than David Wright. If you did that, you could put Wright in the number 3 spot, and bury Lo Duca (and his team leading batting average) somewhere in the dole drums at the end of the line-up with Green, Valentine and the pitcher.
Oh, and here’s a solution for the outfield problem: take Shawn Green out back of the stadium and shoot him. Promote Lastings Mildedge to take his job. Use Chavez extremely liberally, either in place of Alou, or Mildege, or as a late defensive replacement. Any slack could be taken up by the couple of back up outfielders that they are carrying anyway.
Willie Randolph: Thanks Sam, those are both extremely valid suggestions, really I don’t know why we don’t listen to the advice of embittered sub-sub-librarians more often.
The HELL David Wright should bat second. Probably, Willie Randolph had better things to do in the off-season (family or some crap), so he can be forgiven for not having gone to Mets.com on a regular basis to see if there were any trade rumors to take his mind off of the deadening madness that is life- however, if he had, he would have been regularly reminded that Paul Lo Duca led the team in batting average (Pedro Feliciano led it in ERA). The main thing about the Mets number 2 hitter is not so much their production, as how good a job they do of giving Jose Reyes a chance to steal- everyone knows this. David Wright is an RBI guy who can hit for power; Lo Duca is a contact hitter, generally one of the best in the game, who rarely strikes out. Part of why Lo Duca excelled last season was his patience at the plate, his willingness to take pitches, to go to 0-2, in order to give Reyes as many opportunities to swipe a bag as possible. Essentially, this involves balancing TWO tasks at the same time (hitting the ball and looking after Reyes) - this is not something that I imagine Wright being capable off. I see Wright as a simple man, with simple tastes, whose brain has about enough room for one concept at any given moment- when that concept is “hit the ball hard” things seem to work out. Last season Lo Duca was able to successfully juggle a gambling problem, a messy divorce, and hit .318. A lot of the criticism about Lo Duca is that he is not fast enough to be an ideal number 2 hitter, and this is clearly true. However, given the power behind him in the line-up (Beltran, Delgado, and Wright) speed is less important for him than it would be for other number 2 hitters. Honestly, if they are that keen on having someone faster than Lo Duca hit second, I think the clear choice is actually Beltran. Beltran can hit for average and has good speed, and, I think most importantly, probably has the maturity and concentration to bat with Reyes on first, at least more successfully than David Wright. If you did that, you could put Wright in the number 3 spot, and bury Lo Duca (and his team leading batting average) somewhere in the dole drums at the end of the line-up with Green, Valentine and the pitcher.
Oh, and here’s a solution for the outfield problem: take Shawn Green out back of the stadium and shoot him. Promote Lastings Mildedge to take his job. Use Chavez extremely liberally, either in place of Alou, or Mildege, or as a late defensive replacement. Any slack could be taken up by the couple of back up outfielders that they are carrying anyway.
Willie Randolph: Thanks Sam, those are both extremely valid suggestions, really I don’t know why we don’t listen to the advice of embittered sub-sub-librarians more often.
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