Baseball postsTuesday November 26, 2013
Modern Ballplayer Reactions to Joe DiMaggio's 56-Game Hitting Streak
A few thoughts from modern ballplayers on Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak in 1941, culled from Kostya Kennedy's book, “56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports,” pp. 187-88, which I've been enjoying during lunch:
“How big of a deal is DiMaggio's streak? Ryan Zimmerman got halfway there and it was on the front page of every sports section and led every sports highlight show. He was halfway. Halfway! Think about that.”
-- David Wright
“Get a hit for two straight months? It's hard to get a hit for two straight days.”
-- Derek Jeter
“That's one of those Bugs Bunny numbers. People do that in cartoons, not in real life.”
-- Ken Griffey, Jr.
“I'm not someone who follows that. Now someone who follows that, they would know [what the hitting streak record is]. But anyway, what is the hitting streak record? [Long pause after being told.] Man, that is a frickin' long hitting streak.”
-- Gary Sheffield
Who is the Team of the Century?
I was thinking about this during the postseason, which didn't include the New York Yankees, and which included a World Series between two teams with two titles so far this century: the Boston Red Sox and the St. Louis Cardinals. I thought whoever won this year would be our team of the century. So far.
Then I thought I'd crunch the numbers first.
This is what you get in terms of post-season appearances, LCSes, pennants, and World Series titles. It's organized by post-season appearances. Caveat: I didn't include the loser of the new one-game wild card playoffs, which, technically, is the post-season, but doesn't fit readily into this format. I also included the year 2000. Arguments on that issue can take place elsewhere, please:
|New York Yankees||12||7||4||2|
|St. Louis Cardinals||10||8||4||2|
|Boston Red Sox||7||5||3||3|
|Los Angeles Angels||6||3||1||1|
|Los Angeles Dodgers||5||3|
|San Francisco Giants||5||3||3||2|
|Tampa Bay Rays||4||1||1|
|Chicago White Sox||3||1||1||1|
|New York Mets||2||2||1|
|San Diego Padres||2|
|Kansas City Royals|
|Toronto Blue Jays|
The Yankees have appeared in the most post-seasons, 12 of the 14, and are tied with the St. Louis Cardinals for the most pennants: four.
The Cardinals, though, have been in the most LCSes: 8. That was a surprise for me. I forgot how many times they kept showing up.
But if it's all about rings—and what Yankees fan worth his salt wouldn't say it's all about rings?—then the century thus far belongs to the Boston Red Sox, who began the century as famous, operatic losers until their glorious comeback in the 2004 ALCS jumpstarted a new tradition.
A follow-up: So who is the biggest loser of the 21st century? Both Toronto and KC haven't even been to the postseason—Toronto tough division, KC idiot management—while a few others have made it only once. One of those, the then-Florida Marlins, actually went all the way in 2003, but they're an outlier.
The team with the most post-season appearances and no LCS? Tied between the Reds and the Padres with two each.
How about the team with the most LCS appearances but no pennant? That would be the Dodgers with 3. The Mariners are second with 2.
But look at the Braves up there: Eight postseasons, just one LCS and no pennant. They have the most post-season appearances without a pennant. Yet this organization is now planning on moving its home ballpark from downtown Atlanta (55% white) to Cobb County (66% white) for the start of the 2017 season. “We’ve played in our current facility for quite some time," said John Schuerholz, the Braves’ president. By which he means since 1997. So 20 years is apparently the shelf-life of baseball stadiums today. I'm sure the Mariners organization is taking note.
So are the Braves the biggest losers of the 21st century? Certainly in the post-season. Plus now they're being dicks. But at least it's a smart organization. If I added regular-season futitlity to this chart, I'm sure the prize of worst team of the century would go to Kansas City. But watch out, Royals! The Mariners are right on your back.
For Yankees fans, the 21st century has been about the Curse of Big Papi.
Watching the World Series in a Seattle Sports Bar When the Seahawks are on Monday Night Football
Because Patricia cut our cable by mistake, and because it's taking Comcast a week to send someone to fix it, and because my baseball-watching friend Tim is in LA and Mike is in the exurbs, and because I don't even know if Jim has a TV, I was forced to watch both Games 4 and 5 of the World Series in sports bars.
Sunday, for Game 4, I walked over to Garage, the hipster, pool/bowling alley/restaurant on Broadway and sat in the bar. They had two TVs there and switched one to the World Series for me. That's where I sat for the game. Occasionally some dude would come up, squint at the score, then walk away even as I tried to engage them. Mostly I watched it with the bartender, Seth, with whom I spoke about life matters mostly. He's out of Arizona, a budding Buddhist. We talked about unhappiness in the U.S. and its relation to the plethora of choices available. We talked about this even as it took a while for me to choose from the plethora of choices on the menu.
Last night I figured Buckley's in lower Queen Anne would be the place, since it's only two blocks from where I work, and it was. I arrived a few minutes before the first pitch and the place was packed. I mean, packed. And on every screen but one they were showing Monday Night Football. Really? Over the World Series? I mean, not to get all Randle Patrick McMurphy about it, but it is the World Series, baseball. C'mon, Chief, put up that hand!
Then the other shoe dropped. Ah. The Seahawks are playing. Fuck.
One woman, waiting for her boyfriend, was nice enough to let me sit with her. We talked about the relative popularity of various sports. She's a big Sounders fan but thinks soccer isn't that big a sport in the U.S. I said, sure, but it's on the rise. Unlike baseball, whose popularity is falling. She wondered about that: Is it falling? I trotted out the various measures. Overall, attendance is up, because each team markets well, and each fan is a fan of that team. They go for the entertainment value. But they're not lovers of baseball as baseball. Once the World Series is on, the biggest games of the year, most people are elsewhere, watching Sunday Night or Monday Night Football. Ratings have been dropping for 30 years.
I was also able to do my napkin bit about every team sport, and why they're all the same, and why baseball is different, and why this difference doesn't suit the television age. I'll do it for you sometime, if you like.
But after one G&T I'd had enough of the crowd and walked toward downtown, then detoured over to ... yeah ... Paddy Coyne's Irish Pub along the waterfront. Why not?
That place was deserted in comparison, although all of the screens were tuned to MNF; but I asked the maitre'd, who looked around and gave me a TV in the corner. So that's where I sat for the remainder of Boston's 3-1 win: in a booth, drinking Carlsberg, eating a grilled cheese sandwich. I tweeted:
New definition of a loner: wanting to watch the World Series in a Seattle sports bar the night the Seahawks are on Monday Night Football.— Erik Lundegaard (@ErikLundegaard) October 29, 2013
But I wasn't unhappy. I even got to celebrate a bit. On the long walk home, past the various homeless and crazies on Pike Street between 1st and 3rd, I spotted a guy waiting for a bus on 4th. He was wearing a Boston Red Sox cap. I went up to him, fist extended. He smiled, bumped mine. I smiled and walked on.
Game 6 tomorrow night. I might actually get to watch it at home. Of course, if I do, I won't have a story to tell. But I'll probably drink less.
From David Shoenfield: Big Papi: He went 3-for-4, the one out being a screaming liner to center field that ended a streak of nine straight times reaching base. He's hitting .733/.750/1.267 in this World Series.
Joe P on Game 3
As you know, if you've been reading, I didn't get to see Game 3 of the World Series last night, so I missed most of the action before the final at-bat, which I've since seen on the mlb.com site. But Joe Posnanski did. And he has a few things to say about Boston manager John Farrell:
And then, Farrell made one of the oddest moves in World Series history. He let his relief pitcher, Brandon Workman, hit. It is not often that you see a manager make a move, especially in the World Series, that is inarguably stupid. Even the moves most people might disagree with — a shaky bunt decision, a questionable pitching change, an ill-timed intentional walk, whatever — will have its counterargument. But hitting Workman was one of those moves that has no counter. It was just a brain cramp by the guy who will probably win manager of the year. It’s hard to believe that somebody, anybody, didn’t stop him from doing it. ...
But he doubled down on that blunder in the ninth inning. He decided to hit Workman because, he said, he NEEDED Workman to pitch more than one inning. This was pure nonsense. Everyone in the entire world knew that as soon as Workman gave up a single or a walk or anything else to put a runner on base, he would get yanked and closer Koji Uehara would come into the game. So, Farrell absolutely DID NOT need Workman to go more than one inning, and had no intentional whatsoever to stay with him if he got into even the mildest trouble. Farrell batted Workman because he was not thinking clearly.
And, what’s worse, as you know, the Red Sox had one of the better hitters in baseball, Mike Napoli, just SITING ON THIS BENCH. Two innings earlier, Farrell proved willing to play havoc with his defense just to give Will Middlebrooks the puncher’s chance of hitting an unlikely home run. But in the ninth inning of the World Series, he hit his pitcher instead of Mike Napoli — still boggles the mind — and again his explanation was as baffling as the move. He said he wanted to hold Napoli back because he thought the game would get into extra innings and the pitcher’s spot might come again. This is just so bizarre you don’t even know what to say.
Workman struck out on three pitches, of course, and I suspect will never forget his first big league at-bat. Yeah, that’s right. His first big league at-bat. But that’s OK. He never got a minor-league at-bat either. This at-bat is legend now.
Then he gets on him again for the non-intentional walk in the bottom of the 9th:
As it was, the Cardinals had runners on second and third, one out, and Jon Jay came to the plate.
I suspect that I don’t need to review my loathing, unadulterated loathing, for the intentional walk. And so it is with great regret that I say here: I cannot believe the Red Sox did not intentionally walk Jon Jay. If you are ever, ever going to use the intentional walk, this was it:
- You set up the force play at the plate.
- You set up a potential double play.
- Instead of facing Jon Jay — a left-handed hitter with a career .300 batting average against righty pitchers — the Red Sox would face Pete Kozma, who can’t hit. The Cardinals had backed themselves into a corner by using up their entire bench. Kozma and his season-long .217/.275/.273 line — he has had one hit in the NLCS and World Series combined — was followed by Kolen Wong, a rookie who hit .153/.194/.169 this year.
- The one significant disadvantage of loading the bases — that a walk or hit batsman would force in the winning run — was almost entirely muted by the fact the Koji Uehara was pitching. The man has not walked or hit a a single batter since August 3. Repeat: He has not walked or hit a batter since August 3.
Joe P. also comes down on the side of umpire Jim Joyce for making the right call. He comes down a bit hard, I think, on Will Middlebrooks for the Matt Holliday double in the 7th, but he's right about Middlebrooks futile attempt to stay on the bag in the 9th. There was no force. The ball gets by it's the game. Why do it?
Read the whole piece.
According to Posnanski, the stumblebum was Boston manager John Farrell.
Why I Missed One of the Oddest Finishes in World Series History
We had people over last night, a long-standing commitment, but that’s not why I missed the ending to Game 3 of the 2013 World Series, which will long be remembered as one of the oddest ends to a World Series game ever. Runner obstruction? Really? Well, it is in the rulebook. And it’s not based on intent, which is always tricky to judge. Even so ...
What ending compares? Maybe Babe Ruth caught stealing in the bottom of the 9th of Game 7 of the 1926 World Series with the Yankees down 3-2? That was also against the Cardinals, by the way.
But runner obstruction is such a deflating end. It’s an NFL end. It feels like the umpires rather than the players deciding the outcome.
But I didn’t see it. By the time it happened our dinner party was beginning to dissipate and I—a few others—could’ve stolen away to watch the game. But we didn’t.
You have to go back to Thursday. I was coming home from work on a not-particularly-good day—health issues, etc.—and anticipating celebrating our friend Vince’s birthday at a bar in Capitol Hill. Figured I’d watch some of the game (Game 2), then head over. It would be a nice walk on a not-bad evening weatherwise.
But when I got home, Patricia, who had been sick all week, was up and about. There was a garbage bag by the door and a step ladder in the hallway. Sitting in bed, she’d decided it was time to repaint the bedroom, so this, I assumed, was prep work.
“By the way,” she said. “Our internet’s out.”
Really? I thought. We’d gone through this in September and it had been fixed. But I looked and, yes, the router’s light was yellow instead of green, and the modem was showing two blue lights instead of three (that’s the depth of my tech knowledge). Plus the cable TV wasn’t working. So I did what you do. I checked the connections. I rebooted the system. Then I called Comcast.
While I was on the phone, Patricia, who had just taken out the garbage, was standing abjectly in the hallway. “I don’t know if this has to do with it,” she began. “but I took out the cables up there.” Then she made an “u” motion above her head.
“Wait, what? What’s this?” I imitated her “u” motion.
“All those old cables we don’t need,” she said. That was what was in the garbage bag she’d just taken out: the old cables we don’t need.
“Yes, but why are you making a ‘u’ motion? It should just be there,” I said, indicating one side of the u. “Not both,” I said, sweeping my arms in the u motion again. “Where did you ...?”
But I knew. I knew then.
We live in a condo, built in 1909, which now has cable running throughout the building. Our unit, which we bought in 2007 (don’t ask), included a line of cable to the bedroom, where the previous owners used to watch TV. We don’t. That cable’s been unnecessary since at least 2007.
It splits at the top of the hallway—in the center of the “u”—and that splitter was the cause of our difficulties last month. But the tech came in, and, rather than replace the splitter, simply connected the outside cable line directly to the line that leads to our living room cable connection: modem, router, cable box, etc. Wah-lah. Perfect.
Patricia, in her enthusiasm, had removed not only the line of (unnecessary) cable leading to the bedroom but the line of (necessary) cable leading to the living room. She’d cut it in two places.
My heart sank. Or my stomach. Some part of me sank.
Comcast, when I got through, didn’t help with the sinking. Despite my protestations, the service rep, who I’m pretty sure was in Mexico, made me run through the diagonistic test; only only after that failure did we get down to an appointment.
He: We can have someone by on .... Wednesday, October 30th.
Me (long pause): You’re kidding.
He wasn’t. Anyway that’s why, for the end to Game 3 of the 2013 World Series, I was following it via ESPN.com’s pitch-by-pitch meter (our kind neighbors are letting us use their wifi). The pitch meter is a kind of 1920s throwback, isn’t it? Plus it can raise more questions than it answers. I mean, this is pretty straightforward:
A Craig doubled to left, Y Molina to third.
J Jay grounded into fielder's choice to second, Y Molina out at home. A Craig scored, J Jay to first on interference error by third baseman W Middlebrooks.
I’ve since seen the play online, and while I know Jim Joyce made the right call, it’s still a disappointing end. I’m rooting for the Sox—after rooting against them in the ALCS—and it’ll be interesting to see to how they come back from this. Will they be deflated or fired up? And where will I watch it?
Either way, that was a helluva play by Dustin Pedroia.
Twitter: @ErikLundegaardTweets by @ErikLundegaard