Neither Nor

[caption id=”attachment_1812” align=”alignleft” width=”298” caption=”Albert needs to work on his Beast Mode pose.”][/caption]

The Cardinals had one starter last into the 6th inning against the Milwaukee Brewers, and were the beneficiaries of both some spectacularly awful Brewers defense and the best week-plus of David Freese’s life. Of course I’m going to pick against them. Again. Even if Texas’ addition of a 3rd catcher (Matt Treanor) at the expense of some bullpen depth (Koji Uehara) for this World Series seems like the sort of roster move the micro-manager on the NL side of the field would indulge in. And even if Ron Washington’s shown he’s more than likely to one-up Tony LaRussa when it comes to being “strategic,” when Washington has the perfect “set it and forget it” line-up. And even if Washington’s going to continue using Derek Holland out of the rotation, instead of giving Alexi Ogando a well-deserved (and, at this point, probably necessary) shot. Either way, Texas is going to be stuck sending three lefty starters to the hill against two switch-hitters (Furcal & Berkman) and at least four highly competent right-handed hitters (Pujols, Holliday, Freese, and Molina). If that’s the case, why not start the three most effective ones, instead of the two good ones and a third that hasn’t pitched well yet this post-season?

Of course, the Rangers’ line-up won’t be a cakewalk, especially if the starting staff performs the same disappearing act they pulled against Milwaukee. Assuming Wash knows what’s good for the team, the lack of a DH in over half the series games means the guy that’ll sit during NL games will be everyman / Jeterian incumbent Michael Young. His prospective absence during most of these games might explain the tonguebaths this thoroughly professional yet over-valued has received since the Rangers clinched their 2nd consecutive AL pennant. (After all, crediting the two key off-season acquisitions, and their combined 62 HRs, for the Rangers’ success wouldn’t do, right? Nah, let’s give it up to the high-average, low-power utility guy with the decreased defensive efficacy that spent the pre-season whining about his PT. Even if he was the only non-Cruz to homer for Texas against the Tigers.)

As much as it is an open secret that my distatste for the Cult of LaRussa knows no bounds, he’s done a remarkable job this year, especially in the post-season, and especially with his bullpen. Given how much work they had to do during the NLCS, adding Jake Westbrook to the roster as the 8th guy makes perfect sense, even if it’s only a token gesture. Still, it’s doubtful the Cardinals will be able to duct-tape and chewing-gum together another batch of McGuyver-esque relief magic if Chris Carpenter’s the only guy they have that can get 18 outs. And if, as I’ve seen suggested in some corners, Westbrook’s addition means there might be some issues with Carpenter, then there’s little chance the Cardinals will be able to make this series competitive. The Brewers had a pretty good line-up; even with a pitcher in place of Young, the Rangers make the Brewers look like the Mariners. Still, I have faith that Ron Washington will keep the Cardinals in more games than necessary due to either a slow hook with a flailing starter (hello Mr. Holland) or excessive small-ball chicanery, even if I have an equal amount of faith that Texas’ abundance of talent will overcome those shortcomings. I’ll give the Cards one Carp start and one slug-fest (you can guess against which Ranger starter), but I’ll give the World Series trophy to TEXAS IN SIX.

[caption id=”attachment_1803” align=”alignleft” width=”240” caption=”Pictured here: a Yuniesky Betancourt home run. Savor it.”][/caption]

C’mon, really?  The Team of Destiny, getting past the presumptive NL World Series squad to continue some fairy-tale playoff run?  And getting bulletin-board material from every possible area of the team (Tony Plush, sure, but GRIENKE?!?!)n in order to fuel their run?  Well, if you realize that this “underdog” is actually better than the team that started the year, and they have all their players (nominally) healthy, then, sure, they’re an underdog. And if you look at the actual NL Central winner — yeah bratwurst! — and notice that one of their rotational stalwarts (Shaun Marcum) has been scuffling mightily during the back end of the season, then that 9-9 head-to-head record doesn’t seem to mean all that much.

So I’m going to be boring, and obvious, and say that home field advantage is going to be key.  That might be in part because of Milwaukee’s ridiculous home / road splits, which came to bear in the NLDS against Arizona) (though starting a weary Marcum and a mediocre Randy Wolf might’ve had a bit more to do with that outcome).  For those keeping score, St. Louis had the same record - 45-36 - home and away.  But, again, this Cardinals team was scuffling throughout most of the season.  Now this team has their ace back and healthy (Chris Carpenter), their three big boppers back and healthy (Pujols / Berkman / Holliday), some downcard hitters that are just as important (Furcal and Freese), and that mean-so-much momentum.  And the “underdog” mojo.  Despite being one of the best teams in the NL for the past 5 years.  Meanwhile, the Brewers have a similar configuration, except I’d say they have two potential aces (Grienke and Gallardo), and while they only have the two big bats (Fielder and Braun), they have a little more overall depth in their line-up.  And while the Brewers have the stronger bullpen, LaRussa’s matchup OCD might make that a wash. But it was also LaRussa being LaRussa that forced a tiring Kyle Loshe to throw cookies to Ryan Howard back in Game 1.  Then again, Ron Roenicke’s ride-it-out approach with his starters down in Arizona made that series much closer than it needed to be.

So, if you assume that all these pros and cons wash out — as they seem to — then it’s back to the not-so-analytical tact of picking the team with home field advantage.  And that, as already mentioned, is the Milwaukee Brewers.  If the projected starter schedule holds up, then this series will feature three outright laughers (especially that Wolf / Loshe tilt) (still not a Loshe believe, in case you’re wondering) and four pitching duels, including a Game 7 throwdown between Carpenter and Gallardo for all the slamma-lamma-ding-dongs.  Even if I wasn’t picking BREWERS IN SEVEN, I’d be rooting for that matchup every which way.

[caption id=”attachment_1797” align=”alignleft” width=”300” caption=”Chris Davis: Never Forget”][/caption]

Since I did such a bang-up job picking the Yankees and Rays to win each of their series in five games, I figured it’d only be right to turn such unerring accuracy and unfailing insight on the actual ALCS opponents.

During the regular season, the Tigers actually took six out of nine from the Rangers, none of them won by Justin Verlander; he only started once against Texas, back in April, and lost 2-0 to Alexis Ogando. Coincidentally enough, this showdown could feature only one Verlander start and three Ogando wins (albeit three bullpen wins), though it’s most like that Detroit’s Game 1 starter will come back on 3 days rest to try and keep the Tigers’ hopes alive in Game 4.

Of course, anything can happen in a short series, like Delmon Young hitting three homers in a five-game series, or Adrian Beltre hitting three homers in one series-clinching game. I guess folks are chalking up the Tigers’ win against New York to playing “team baseball,” which is a nice way of saying that the only guys that hit a darn in that series for Detroit were the aforementioned Mr. Young, Don Kelly, and Magglio Ordonez.

There’s also Brandon Inge’s three-for-seven to consider as well, but hopefully Jim Leyland won’t really consider that a reason to give Inge any more PT than he has so far this post-season. The Rangers are, like in their ALDS win, slated to start two righties and two lefties [or three lefties and one righty, as a helpful / dickish comment-maker noted - ed], which means (barring another rain postponement), Inge and Wilson Betemit will share time at the hot corner swinging their bats against the side they do the most damage against.

There’s always a chance he could also pencil in Don Kelly’s name at 3B for the duration of the series, like he did in Game 5, but with Young actually off the roster (due to a Game 5 injury), Kelly’s liable to see his time spent running around the outfield, sharing time with Ryan Raburn and Ordonez in either corner. Getting someone to spell Austin Jackson would be prudent, but for all of Leyland’s willingness to switch things up, it’d take something calamitous to get him to replace Jackson’s speed in the OF. (You might want to bump him down in the order, though, Jim. Just a suggestion.)

With the Rangers against the Rays, I figured the Rays’ right-handed hitters would have all sorts of fun banging Derek Holland and Matt Harrison around the ballpark. So, of course, it turned out to be CJ Wilson – the best of the three Rangers’ leftie starters – that Tampa Bay repeatedly took deep. Holland almost spit the bit, but James Shields was too busy doing worse to let that make any sort of difference. With the Tigers’ right-sided sock limited to one really good hitter (you know) and Jhonny Peralta, there’s even less of a chance that Texas’ lefty-heavy pitching staff will cause any problems.

Between that, and the top-to-bottom strength of the Rangers line-up, it’s no wonder most folks are picking the Rangers to defend their American League Championship. The Tigers need both Verlander and Fister to pitch to their utmost abilities, in order to keep their tightrope-walking bullpen from causing any issues. The Rangers just need their starters to keep things close, so their bullpen and hitters can make their presence felt.

No offense to Fister’s or Scherzer’s efforts against the Yankees, but the Rangers’ offense is a whole different beast entirely. And I’ve a feeling, with Scherzer’s wildness and Fister’s need for pin-point accuracy, Verlander’s the only one that has any chance of keeping them in check. And he’d have to do so twice on three days’ rest in order to give the Tigers any kind of chance. Which means that, by my picking TEXAS IN SIX, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. So when Alex Avila hits 6 HRs, throws out Elvis Andrus in a key spot late in Game 4, and is named series MVP, just think fondly of me if you’re a Rangers fan for a brief moment before burning me in effigy.

Since Jockish is going to stay defunct for the time being, and since The Classical isn’t around yet to reject this thing outright, here’s me trying to scratch that “blab about sports in an amusing way” itch, in reaction to Tony LaRussa’s “funny” comments regarding Moneyball, courtesy of retired Tampa-area math teacher Dolores Costanza. (Don’t mind that I might’ve forgotten the “amusing” part.)

When I was younger, things were so much simpler. A man had to work for a living, with his hands, under the auspices of Mother Nature, not in some concrete box pressing buttons on a computer for some foreign country’s benefit. Your mailman was a friendly face that you saw every day, the kind of affable fellow you could share a glass of chilled milk and some fresh apple pie with and not feel threatened. He was not some portly troll dressed in unbecoming shorts and ghastly black socks that would crassly waddle up to your stoop and leave you catalogs selling untoward things like lingerie or high-heeled shoes.

And math – oh! Wonderful, glorious math! You could show children the sublime beauty of the Phythagorean Theorem, or teach them how to divine the factors of a four-digit number, and they would be transfixed in awe at the seemingly magic sigils that the teacher would conjure upon the chalkboard. I suppose I have let that cat out of the bag. Yes, once upon a time, when I was much younger, I was a math teacher. For nearly three decades, I was a math teacher at Wentworth-Higgins Elementary, in the fine city of Tampa. It was a wonderful experience, being able to shape the minds of impressionable young Americans! And one such young American is the reason I’m writing this essay today.

I must have been a spry and vigorous forty-eight years of age, wandering the aisles of J.J. Newberry’s for some epsom salts one lazy late spring afternoon, when I first saw him. He was a rapscallion, that Anthony LaRussa. There he was, out on the sidewalk with his shoeshine kit and his rakish jet-black hair, trying to scrounge up enough change to catch the State Theatre matinee. He was eight if he was a day, and he was having a dickens of a time getting anyone to stop and take him up on his offer. So, after kind Mr. Wilkinson rang me up and sent me on my way, I went over to the young little man and gave him a shiny ten-cent piece. And I’ll never forget what happened next.

After snatching that dime from my hand without so much as a thank you, he pulled out this bundled red checkered kerchief. From the jingle-jangle it made, I knew it was brimming with the fruits of his labors. And I was correct! I watched him poke around in that pile of money for a good minute or two. He must’ve had at least three dollars in there, good enough for a matinee every day that week, and some freshly popped popcorn as well. So you can imagine my surprise when Anthony suddenly started crying! I knelt down beside the young man, with tears streaking down his quickly-reddening cheeks, and asked him what he was crying about. And he said that he didn’t have enough money for the movie!

Well! I was so taken aback by Anthony’s incorrect assumption that I actually laughed aloud! And I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stop laughing. Here was this enterprising young man with more money than he knew what to do with, and he thought he was destitute! Finally, however, the novelty of this circumstance faded, and I saw him gazing upon this crazy lady laughing at his unfortunate circumstance. So then I tried to explain to him that he was actually wealthy beyond his wildest imagination (assuming, of course, all he could imagine was a picture show and maybe an ice cream float. But he was as stubborn as he was industrious, and wouldn’t take my claims as the truth that they were! He even insisted on arguing the contrary vehemently, kicking at his shoeshine box, tossing his polishing brush down the street. It was quite a tantrum. Finally – and I still, to this day, don’t know why I actually did this – I bribed Anthony. I said that, if he would let me take him to the movies this fine afternoon, and for an ice cream soda afterwards, I would show him why he was wrong. You have never seen a young man’s eyes go from glowering to glowing so quickly!  Perhaps it was that I saw a bit of myself in his unyielding insistence, or perhaps I simply wanted to.  I cannot say one way or another.

I also cannot recall the feature we attended, but I do know that chance encounter signaled the beginning of a beautiful – and wholly platonic, I assure you! – friendship. That afternoon, and every Wednesday afternoon for the next three months, we would meet and talk about my favorite subject: mathematics. Granted, I let Anthony talk as well. He was quite fond of the base-ball, a sport that I had little time or patience for. Still, I did not want to begrudge him his exuberance, so I let him prattle away about this player or that team, politely nodding along as he breathlessly recounted plays he heard on the radio with such animated glee! I can only hope that I was able to project a scintilla of such passion as I taught Anthony about the building blocks of mathematics.

When we began our weekly sessions, I had trouble telling Anthony how two dimes and a nickle equaled a quarter; when we finished that summer, however, he was able to calculate the area of a multi-sided polygon without removing the milkshake straw from his mouth! It was an astonishing transformation, and one that I was proud to be a part of. However, after that summer, I never saw Anthony again. I do not know whether he moved, or one of his parents didn’t like the idea of him spending time with someone so much older. But, whatever the reason, those magical months were the only moments I had with the young Anthony LaRussa.

That is, until many years later, when I happened to hear his name and voice on a television. The hair wasn’t quite as ebon as I had remembered, and he had certainly gotten older, but I could recognize that disagreeable shoe-shine boy anywhere. And from that moment on, I endeavored to follow his every move within the sport of base-ball, even at my advanced age – an age I will hope none of you kind readers will ask me about, thank you very much! Which is why news of his most recent outburst has upset me so! It’s not so much the profanity (though I can only imagine the filth hiding behind those pound signs!), but the wanton ignorance that bothers me so.

All this talk about taking the square footage and diving it by pi – first of all, you would need to multiply by pi in order to find the square footage of any spherical object. And besides that basic error, what he’s espousing there is nothing more than pure nonsense, and it’s dangerous for someone in his position of influence to be so careless with the facts, and especially with the figures. Mathematics, like any tool, is an implement that needs to be used with caution, with care, and with respect. And especially since in base-ball, mathematics are so paramount and such a part of its being, that respect should be given without hesitation. It saddens me to see my little man forget the lessons that I taught him those many years ago. I can only hope he sees the error of his ways, and remembers a much more innocent time, when he didn’t even know that the two dimes he had to rub together equaled twenty cents. For shame, Anthony! For shame!

Dolores Constanza lives in Clearwater, FL, with ten cats, and an iguana named Euclid.

[caption id=”attachment_1754” align=”alignleft” width=”240” caption=”Miss you, pinstripes.”][/caption]

Yeah, the Diamondbacks. You know, the team with a 20-game winner (Ian Kennedy), a pretty solid 2^nd starter (Daniel Hudson), a not-inconcievable MVP candidate (Justin Upton), a closer with 45 saves (JJ Putz), one of the best hitting catchers in baseball (Miguel Montero), and, well, a bunch of other stuff. The right side of their infield is totally different than it was at the start of the year, their starting SS is out with a season-ending injury, and their other two starting pitchers (Joe Saunders and Josh Collmenter) are executing the sort of smoke-and-mirrors act that is bound to eventually get fiigured out. To say the Diamondbacks are top-heavy is an understatement. But, then, the 2001 Diamondbacks squad was similarly top-heavy, though that top had a lot more weight than this bunch.

And, in a non-shocker, it’ll be that soft underbelly that might be the Diamondbacks undoing. Kennedy vs. Yovani Gallardo is a wash, and the same could possibly be said for Hudson vs. this year’s version of Zach Grienke. But I have to imagine that throwing the defense-reliant lefty Sanders against a line-up that’s predominantly right-handed and Braun-y is going to yield results far less favorable than the 7 inning, 2 run performance he gave ARI against the Brewers earlier this year. And while the Brewers do have their weak spots in their lineup (hello Yuniesky Betancourt), they’re much stronger overall than the Diamondbacks are. Granted, they’d kill to have either Drew or Willie Bloomquist playing SS over the aforementioned Mr. Betancourt (AKA the guy whose on-base wouldn’t be within spitting distance of a batting-average crown in any year outside of 1968), but apart from that and Casey McGehee’s career-threatening faceplant, there’s not much happening in the Brewer line-up in terms of easy outs. Ron Roenicke’s decision to use servicable super-sub Jerry Hairson at 3B instead of McGehee helps fill in that hole. I would’ve rather try Hairston at SS, but that’s just me (and my boundless lack of interest in seeing Betancourt play baseball).

That depth disparity extends across all areas of this match-up. No offense to Putz and the equally excellent David Hernandez, but even if the Brewers hadn’t acquired K-Rod from the Mets earlier this year, their bullpen, featuring 46-save man John Axford, would be just fine. And while newish D-Backs Aaron Hill (878 OPS) and Lyle Overbay (840 OPS) have performaed admirably since their arrival in Arizona, their Milwaukee counterparts (you might’ve heard of them) are just a bit better. Unless this is a head-to-head match-up between D-Backs 3B Ryan Roberts and McGehee, I can’t see a situation where the Diamondbacks come out ahead. Granted, that’s if everything goes according to plan. Kennedy could easily outduel Gallardo, some unheralded D-Back (Gerardo Parra, say) could tap into his inner Bonds for 30 at-bats, one of the Copperfield twins could finagle their way against Shaun Marcum or Randy Wolf to a victory that sets up another Kennedy / Gallardo throwdown in the series’ final game. But I honestly don’t even see this thing getting to that “sexy” Collmenter / Wolf war of attrition scheduled for the 4^th game. BREWERS IN THREE.

[caption id=”attachment_1768” align=”alignleft” width=”174” caption=”Mr. Baseball”][/caption]

The Rangers have the 2010 AL pennant. The Rays have that little thing called “momentum.” The Yankees have the benefit of being the Yankees. And the Tigers have the spectre of 2006 dogging them every step of this playoff run. No doubt the farther they make it into the post-season, the more footage they’re going to show of the team throwing the baseball all around the ballpark while watching the Cardinals win the World Series. Of course, they played just fine getting there five years ago, and there’s really no reason that it can’t be the same this year.

The key for the Tigers, and this might come as a shock to some folks, is how well the non-Verlander starters fare. Of course you can’t assume that Justin Verlander is going to win his starts, especially when he’s paired up against CC Sabathia. But assuming Verlander pitches to form, then all the Tigers need is for Doug Fister or Max Scherzer to hold server against the Ivan Novas and Freddy Garcias of the world. (Yahoo’s showing me that Rick Porcello is slated to pitch Game 4, which I doubt will happen, and probably shouldn’t even if the Tigers are up 2-1.) My money’s on the hot hand, of course, as Fister’s matched Verlander in terms of Cy-Young-worthy excellence during his 11-game Detroit career (70.1 IP, 57 Ks, only 59 total baserunners, and a snazzy 1.79 ERA) (don’t mind those 5 unearned runs). Folks might roll their eyes whenever anyone Yankee-affiliated brings up Ivan Nova as an ROY hopeful, but given he began the year with a 5.82 ERA in 21 innings of work, bringing it down to a totally respectable 3.70 for the season is at the very least worth noting. Freddy Garcia’s 3.62 ERA might also be noteworthy, but I’m choosing instead to notice the 1.36 WHIP that tells me his ERA is an aberration. At any rate, I’m going to assume that any non-CC start will feature a lot of bullpen action, with Joe Girardi doing his over-reactionary thing to somehow get the ball into Methuselah’s hands for yet another save.

[caption id=”attachment_1769” align=”alignright” width=”240” caption=”Mr. Baseball?”][/caption]

However, getting to a place where Mo can lock it down might be trickier than some would believe. The Tigers offense isn’t nearly as balanced as the Yankees, of course, but with guys like Alex Avila (143 OPS+), Jhonny Peralta (21 HRs and a .299 average in an impressive bounceback campaign), Victor Martinez (only 12 HRs, but 40 2Bs, and a .330 AVG), and of course Miguel Cabrera (the usual overlooked silliness), Jim Leyland can string some quality hitters together. Replacing the desiccated corpse of Brandon Inge with Wilson Betemit, who’s .525 SLG shows he’s quite happy with Comerica Park’s vast expanses, is another thing to put in the PRO column. And then there are the cons: nominal lead-off hitter Austin Jackson and his pathetic .319 OBP, and whichever of Delmon Young or Magglio Ordonez ends up starting. The Tigers don’t have many holes, but they make up for that with the quality and depth.

Meanwhile, the Yankees feature two 40 HR guys (if you don’t mind me rounding up Mark Teixeira’s season total), two more over 20, a fifth that would easily have 20 if his body wasn’t falling apart, and only two starters with OBPs lower that .340 for the season (both of whom, coincidentally, are catchers). Even if A-Rod isn’t available, the Yankees will undoubtedly have plenty of guys on base, with more than a few of them crossing the plate. Verlander can keep them off the bases, and a Max Scherzer pitching to the fullest abilities can make like a poor man’s Verlander. But if Scherzer was doing that on a remotely consistent basis, he wouldn’t be sporting a 1.35 WHIP. And Fister, prior to going to Detroit, was the sort of guy that let the defense do the work for him; if that version appears, there’s going to be trouble. Maybe if those guys can scrape by and get a close game to the Alburquerque / Benoit / Valverde trifecta in the bullpen, this will be more of a series. But I can’t see the Yankees having issues with anyone besides JV, and though he’ll get his two starts, the second one will come earlier than Leyland wants, with three days rest to stave off elimination in Game 4 against CC a second time. And then they’ll have to contend with Game 5 in New York. And you can probably guess how I think that’s gonna go. Boring, and assuming Verlander goes on short rest, but probably true: YANKEES IN FIVE.

Chris O’Meara/Associated Press

Tonight was not a referendum on the 2011 Boston Red Sox.  They lost an eight-game lead in the AL Wild Card standings because, in September, their good pitchers pitched bad, and their not-so-good pitchers pitched worse.  You can maybe lay some blame at the feet of GM Theo Epstein, especially when it comes to the increasingly specious contract he signed John Lackey to.  But, going into the season, the Red Sox had Lackey penciled in as their 4th of 6 possible starters (assuming you include Old Man Wakefield in the mix).  That Dice-K pitched as poorly as fans feared Dice-K could pitch wasn’t much of a surprise; that Clay Buchholz came up lame and missed most of the season, unfortunately, was.  Couple that with Lackey’s increasing ineffectiveness, Wakefield pitching as poorly as you’d expect a 45-year-old soft-tossing junkballer that wasn’t Jamie Moyer, and that supposed depth went poof.  To paper over all that, the Red Sox would’ve needed the very-very-good Erik Bedard that netted the Orioles Adam Jones & more.  And maybe the Doug Fister that did his best Doyle Alexander impression for the Tigers.   There was Daniel Bard’s stretch-drive collapse, Kevin Youkilis hobbling all over the place, lots more Matt Albers than recommended, and Papelbon’s failure this series, and some of the worst-timed errors imaginable.   But shit happens.  Using this historical and confounding collapse as an excuse to start up some ridiculous campaign to run Theo Epstein or Terry Francona out of town because they haven’t won a World Series in over four years is the sort of thing that earns Boston fans the rash of shit they usually get, and them some.  And, like I said, tonight wasn’t about the Red Sox.

Tonight was about the Tampa Bay Rays, a perennial underdog that way too many figured would have no shot at contending for a post-season spot with Carl Crawford.  That Crawford left Tampa & signed with a division rival made that somewhat suspect assumption seem that much more obvious, to those already leaning in that direction.  Never mind that the Rays won 2 of the last 3 AL East titles, and were actually in the World Series in 2008 with a not-dissimilar team to what they had this year.  In my mind — and the minds of a lot of smart folk — this year’s team, with Jeremy Hellickson getting a full year in the rotation, and Matt Joyce finally getting a chance to play all the time in the outfield, was better than that World Series team.  If you didn’t pay attention to their bullpen, that is.  You tell folks in April that the Rays would be relying on Kyle Farnsworth to close out games for them as they made a late-season run at the playoffs, and they’d accuse you of making with the not-so-funny funnies.  But though Professor Farnsworth & Joel Peralta were the only consistent relievers the team featured all year, the excellence of their starting staff more than made up for that.  James Shields put last year’s debacle well into the rear view, and formed (with David Price and the aforementioned Hellickson) possibly the best 1-2-3 starter combo in the American League.  It’s definitely the best of the four AL playoff teams.  Combine that with Jeff Neimann’s solid season, and Wade Davis’ acceptable cromulence (plus some help from farmhand Alex Cobb and a cameo by 2012 ROY hopeful Matt Moore), and they had nothing to worry about on the run-prevention side of the ball.

Offensively, though, there were problems.  The biggest being the month-long absence of Evan Longoria.  There was also the early retirement of Manny Ramirez — a perfect on-the-cheap source of power and on-base prowess quickly turning into a sunk cost — and Johnny Damon’s horrendous early start and BJ Upton’s lack of anything and the question marks at shortstop and first base.  Shortstop’s still not really fixed yet — the team turned to Sean Rodriguez, AKA the guy they got for Scott Kazmir, down the stretch — but the first base problem was solved by former prospect Casey Kotchmann and his .377 OBP.  It was assumed that Desmond Jennings would be able to replace Carl Crawford without any trouble, which he did with aplomb when first brought up mid-season, but no one expected the light-hitting Sam Fuld to be the talk of the town (and the New York Times!) that first month of the season.  But that’s the way the Rays managed to turn what was a seemingly insurmountable deficit into a playoff spot, by getting contributions from every possible corner, and that doesn’t include Ben Zobrist’s irreplaceable utility.  Fuld’s hot start segued into Matt Joyce’s power surge, which lead into Jennings’ blazing-hot arrival, which dovetailed nicely into Bossman Junior rediscovering the stroke that carried the Rays during their 2008 playoff run and Longoria’s long-awaited return to form.

It’s only fitting that forgotten man Dan Johnson delivered the game-tying home run with two outs in the bottom of the 9th of the Rays’ most important game of the season.  Not because he’s done it before, but because it’s poetically endemic of how this Rays team works.  They needed a curse-sized amount of luck to succeed, but the Rays’ unparalleled success with drafting and developing players, coupled with some shrewd and thrifty acquisitions, put them in the perfect position to take advantage of the opportunity that luck provided. And after this post-season, when pundits start to talk about the money that James Shields is going to make on the free-agent market, I hope those folks that poo-pooed the Rays’ chances After Crawford take a long hard look at this supposed long-shot of a contender and realize that the Rays are just getting started.

About two months ago, I pitched GQ.com on a “where-are-they-now” piece about Moneyball. Since the movie (based on the Michael Lewis book) was due out in September, I thought it would be interesting to track down various folks that were part of the story and see what they’ve been up to over the past nine-plus years. So did the editor, so off I went. I didn’t have it in mind to track down the more notable people that were part of the story: A’s GM Billy Beane, then-A’s Assistant GM Paul DePodesta (the very-loose basis for the “Peter Brand” character in the film), former A’s Manager Art Howe. I wanted to track down the folks that were on the periphery of the story, if they were in the story at all, and see what they had to say. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that successful.

The first problem was finding people to talk to. In most cases, my Google-fu wasn’t strong enough to get contact info for folks like Jeremy Brown (one of the more notable players selected in the “Moneyball” draft that the book covers) or sub-submariner relief pitcher Chad Bradford. A few of the folks that I did get decent leads on either blew me off or declined my request to participate, including the majority of folks in the A’s front office. I did manage to get ahold of a small handful of people, but that lead to the next problem: my prowess as an interviewer. It was lacking, to say the least. One former player I got in touch with via e-mail answered my questions with the sort of “giving 110% percent” responses that they deserved. The same thing happened when I chatted with someone in an MLB front office; the questions I thought would illicit decent answers got flat answers in return, and the less involved questions received answers that were even more threadbare. By the time I got to interview #3 (another ex-player), I was a little bit better, though I was committing all sorts of interviewing cardinal sins: not following up on possible interesting tangents, interrupting the interview subject mid-answer, spending forever after an answer to find a suitable follow-up question, and so on.

My fourth (and what turned out to be final) interview was with A’s Special Advisor to Baseball Operations (and former A’s Scouting Director) Grady Fuson. I mention his name primarily because the interview went really well, and I’m hoping to get it published in the near future, possibly by a recently-Kickstarted sports website. Fuson’s an affable, easy-going, laidback kind of guy, with a good sense of humor and a better sense of perspective. (I’m basing these assumptions on a thirty-minute conversation, mind you, but I think they’re pretty accurate.) I also bring this up for another reason. If you go see the film Moneyball, you’ll notice there’s a character named Grady introduced early on that looks to be the A’s head scout (or at the very least the scout that other A’s scouts defer to). Later on in the film, it’s “revealed” (in a nonchalant manner) that this character is supposed to be Grady Fuson. If my conversations with the actual Fuson are any indication, the Grady Fuson in the film’s just about a complete fabrication.

Read More

Instead of burying the lede, I’ll just cut to the chase.  I’ll shoot my mouth off after the jump.  (Apologies if the files don’t actually play in order; I’m a Grade A noob when it comes to iTunes / real world interoperability.  If shit stinks, gimme a buzz through whatever channels are available, & I’ll try to make things right.)

SO MANY OPALS (15 tracks; 1:01:39) [DOWNLOAD]

1. The Mountain Goats - “Heretic Pride” (from Heretic Pride)
2. The Breeders - “Off You” (from Title TK)
3. Bowerbirds - “Ghost Life” (from Upper Air)
4. Broadcast - “Long Was the Year” (from The Noise Made By People)
5. Harry Nilsson - “The Moonbeam Song” (from Nilsson Schmilsson)
6. The Heartbreak Scene - “Love Outside Movies” (from The Szabo Songbook)
7. Ida - “Gladiolas” (from The Braille Night)
8. Joel RL Phelps & The Downer Trio - “Mother I’m Missing” (from Customs)
9. Nina Nastasia - “A Dog’s Life” (from Dogs)
10. Liz Phair - “Alice Springs” (from Whip-Smart)
11. Straitjacket Fits - “Down In Splendour” (from Melt)
12. The Places - “Program Ten” (from Call It Sleep)
13. The Verlaines - “Black Wings” (from Way Out Where)
14. Pernice Brothers - “Cronulla Breakdown” (from The World Won’t End)
15. Randy Newman - “That’s Why I Love Mankind” (from Sail Away)

I got to conduct my first face-to-face interview a few weeks ago, with Marissa Nadler. Despite my turbo-babbling (it’ll be a dark day in hell before anyone besides me hears the actual recording of the interview), it went really well; I only wish I could’ve used the stuff about MP3 blogs and 7-11s and postage costs in an organic way for the profile I wrote up.  Instead, I figured it’d be more prudent to keep the digressions to a minimum & just write about how great her new album is.  The thing I wrote should be in the Village Voice in time for her NYC show at the Mercury Lounge on 7/27.  If you happen to be within spitting distance of CT, however, you can catch her opening for Wye Oak at the Wadsworth Antheneum (in Hartford, not New Haven as it’s listed on her website) this Friday (7/15), courtesy of Manic Productions.  I’d be there twice, except I’m going to be in Chicago with all the other (much younger) hipsters, PForking it up. But I digress.

During our conversation, Ms. Nadler mentioned that she was in the midst of recording songs for a second collection of covers, one of the Kickstarter incentives she offered folks that helped fund the recording of the album.  (You can purchase copies of the first covers album, along with lots of other stuff, at her Etsy store.)  She also asked if I had any suggestions of songs she could potentially cover, and as is the case whenever anyone asks me out of the blue for a list of anything, I came up capital-B blank.

And, as is the case when I have time to think (and a ninety-minute drive lends itself to lots of thinking), I started thinking of some possibilities.  And that’s where this list of songs started.  It didn’t actually end up as a List of Songs For Marissa Nadler to Sing, but I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing her give any of these a go.  I wanted to wait & post this until I had a blabby song-by-song rundown of the playlist done, but if I did that, it’d get posted by the 12th of Never (my favorite month).  So: songs now (if you’re interested), words later (hopefully by this time next week), more mixes whenever.

PS - the reason I nicked a Liz Phair lyric from the song I chose instead of thinking of an actual name for the mix is that the only name I could think of was “Bummershoot,” & that dog wasn’t going to fly.  Obviously.

Except for their seemingly insatiable need to screw every available hole in the proverbial pooch while employing the best player in the NBA, their clown of an owner, their bratty jersey-burning fanbase, their noxious mustard / ketchup uniforms, and their (hopefully redacted) love of Comic Sans, and maybe some of their players, I don’t have much of a problem with the Cleveland Cavaliers. Which is to say that when they were playing the LA Clippers last week with a chance to break their 26-game losing streak, my non-chalant interest (bordering on full-throttle apathy, really) gave way to rooting like hell for the Clippers to come back and “earn” Cleveland the US professional sports loss record.  Allow me to explain why I actually gave a shit.

By now, it’s safe to say that the city of Cleveland was unnecessarily humiliated by LeBron’s Decision talents no one should go through that embarassment etc etc etc.   That said, the residents of Cleveland didn’t exactly cover themselves in glory during the aftermath of that debacle. Far be it from me to cosign LBJ’s douchey reap what you sow Tweet regarding CLE’s run of bad luck, but in the wake of what happened post-Decision– the jersey burnings, the unending & very vocal sulking from fans of all stripes,Dan Gilbert’s laughable open letter – it’d be hard to doubt that karma exists. It’s as if the Cavs never realized how good they had it with LeBron, and would rather pout about that unfortunate (albeit not unpredictable) turn of events instead of actually trying to move on.

Honestly, they should be happy the team did as well as it did. Despite doing whatever they could to turn one of the most exciting open-court players the NBA has ever seen into a half-court-offense slug, the Cavs were guaranteed 50+ game winners. They had some nice complementary pieces to go around LeBron, though they were never able to give the team the Pippen-esque second banana many believed they needed. More than anything, though, the Cavs needed ex-coach Mike Brown to run offensive sets that weren’t wearying one-on-five showcases for His Royal Highness. Maybe LeBron James was dogging it during that ignominious playoff series against the Celtics last year, but if I was forced on every possession to continually drive into the teeth of the NBA’s best defense while my teammates (and all my team’s fans) just stood by and waited for something Witness-y to happen, I’d probably consider easing off the gas on a few plays as well.

So maybe I’m luxuriating a little too much in the misery of a now-misbegotten franchise that’s not only lost their franchise’s best player, but (courtesy of injury) more than a few of their other players, including defensive stalwart / walking flop machine Anderson Varejao. (Varejao’s the sort of spastic obnoxious hustle-punk I wouldn’t mind so much if he was doing that nonsense for my favorite team and/or away from my field of vision). They’re not just snake-bitten; they’re snake-swallowed, stewing in its distended belly, waiting for digestion to finally kick in. It’d be hard to not find some sympathy for these dopes.

But then I’m watching the Cavs keep pace with an up-and-coming Clippers team, via the Cavs broadcast. Now, as you might have gathered, I’m a little biased against Cleveland. Nonetheless, the exuberance that the crowd and the broadcasters were luxuriating in as a long-awaited victory seemed at hand started to turn into the sort of self-satisfied smuggery that typified their mien during LeBron’s reign. Granted, I’m basing the existence of this vibe mostly on the shenanigans of the Cleveland broadcasters, who relished every break that went their way, and loved piling on the Clippers’ many misfortunes and miscues. Hearing color commentator Austin Carr sing along to Slade as a fouled-out Baron Davis walked off the court was especially obnoxious, even more than his relentless cavalcade of post-block “get that weak stuff outta here!” exhortations. (I don’t hate all fun, just certain types.) In a league where nearly every local broadcasting team proudly wears their home-team bias on their sleeves, the Cavs TV crew go above and beyond the call of duty.

Read More