Archive for April, 2008

I'm really enjoying SI's new Vault, for stuff like this:

REX GROSSMAN

OVERVIEW
One play on the tapes stood out: Deep in Miami [Hurricanes] territory last season, Grossman set up to throw a crossing route, locked onto his wideout and, though four defenders had the receiver blanketed, forced the throw. The interception was returned 97 yards for a touchdown, and the momentum turned against Florida. Esiason said, "He looked nervous." Coryell added, "He's got to learn that the second-best play in the passing game is an incompletion. You never, never gamble like that." Walsh was concerned as well, saying, "I'd be wary of what I was getting. He makes some disastrous decisions."

Moving down to better seats at a major league ball game is practically an initiation rite for fans. I go to several Cubs and Sox games a year, and I not only see it happen all the time but occasionally I do it too. The ushers at Wrigley Field, however, seem preoccupied with stopping it.

Consider this: at a recent game I was sitting five rows back, just past the Cubs dugout toward left field. The guy in front of me stood to take pictures of Kosuke Fukudome each time he came to bat. He was with three men in business casual. They looked Japanese.

"Are you Japanese?" I asked. "No, I'm from Chicago," he replied in perfect English. "But my friends are." Hi, I'm an idiot, nice to meet you.

He knew a lot about Fukudome's baseball days in Japan and he wanted to give his friends the best possible view of the game. There were a few empty seats in the front row and he'd already spoken to an usher about moving down to them. The usher, who didn't happen to be the main usher guarding that aisle, told him that in order to do that they'd need season tickets to those seats. Even game tickets to the seats wouldn't be good enough. They'd need the kind of ducats you get in a pack when you buy a season's package. 

So the already empty seats were out of the question. More than once the fan walked down to the front row of our section looking for season ticket holders who'd be willing to give him their tickets if they left the game early. Lo and behold, in the 7th inning, with the Cubs well ahead, a middle-aged couple sitting on the aisle in the first row got up, walked right to him, and openly handed him their season tickets.

He nudged one of his friends and, tickets in hand, the two of them moved into the two seats. The main usher, standing just to their right, motioned for their tickets, which they showed. The usher nodded his head and resumed his position on the aisle, and all seemed right in the world. Meanwhile, the two seats to my right were suddenly occupied by 20something dudes with backwards caps and Miller Lites. They wore big smiles. Their secret was safe with me.

Not a half inning later, the usher who'd told the Fukudome fan about the seat-moving policy came down the aisle toward them. Now that the fan and his friend had actually done what the usher had told them was the only way to do it, he felt squeamish. He said they needed to return to their old seats while he checked with his supervisor. "Just gimme a minute and I'll let you know."

He was gone half an inning. He came back and said. "I'm really sorry, but I can't let you sit down there."

"I thought you said if I had the season tickets I could sit there," the guy protested.

"I know, I know I told you that before, but we just can't let you move. I'm really sorry."

So what's the deal? 

The day after right fielder Kosuke Fukudome made his Major League debut against the Brewers at Wrigley Field, he blogged about it on his Japanese Web site. "I don't quite feel like a real Major Leaguer yet," he wrote, "but my first at bat was greeted by such amazing cheers and the Chicago fans, said to be especially tough, gave me such a warm welcome that I felt like I was truly a member of the team. I was so relieved!

"I couldn't help but laugh a little," he adds, "at the signs that read 'How unexpected!' (^_^;)"

Photos of Cubs fans carrying the signs he's referring to (see above) are all over Japanese blogs and news sites. Transliterated, the signs read "Guuzen da zo!"--the kind of thing you'd say if you bumped into someone you were just thinking about calling. "Guuzen" also means "chance," "sudden(ly)," and "accident(al)," and that's why it's such an endearingly curious way to welcome a talented new player; search "accidental" (and scroll down a little) on this popular message board for an ASCII art rendition of the joke.

From what I've seen, there's no disrespect meant to resourceful Cubs fans eager to reach out to Fukudome. As this blogger pointed out, online translators are likely to blame. Google Translate offers "Guuzen da zo!" as the translation of "It’s gonna happen" (look closely and you'll see the Cubs mantra on the back of the sign in the photo). And sometimes it shoots back the much less catchy and even more puzzling "Shinrai kachitoru okoru." I asked my old editor in Tokyo to help explain the translation. "'Shinrai o kachitoru' means 'gain someone's trust,'" he said, "but to stick 'okoru'* on the end is weird."

*to happen 

Who could have blamed him for taking out the candy basket?

Actually, I'm referring to what Lou Piniella called "the bubble gum thing," the dugout receptacle that holds the chewing gum and sunflower seeds so essential to the Norman Rockwell game that is Major League Baseball. Carlos Zambrano, frustrated by a so-so pitching performance that ended in a 5-3 loss to the Phillies last Friday, had thrown one of his fits and, again to quote Uncle Lou, "flipped [the basket] over a little bit." 

Lou lamented that these days "there are no more water coolers. Now you have to tussle with the Gatorade."

Sullivan elicited from Piniella that, after being forced to cough up $200 to $300 for each smashed water cooler back in the day, he'd taken them home and kept them for a while in his garage--after all, he'd paid for them.

"'I wish I had kept them,' he said. 'I'd be selling them on eBay.'"

Ozzie Guillen better start reading his Bible. He's in danger of losing his title as Chicago baseball's King of Quotes.

Tiger Woods has long been outspoken about his focus on Major tournaments. His ultimate goal in golf, he has said, is to eclipse Jack Nicklaus's record of 18 Major victories.

But his runner-up finish to Trevor Immelman at the Masters last Sunday, leaving him stuck at 13 Major victories (already second-best all-time), was a step toward another Nicklaus record, one that might be even more difficult to break.

Nicklaus finished second in 19 Majors. That's a remarkable 37 top-two finishes. Veteran golfer Jay Haas, a pro since 1976, has zero top-two finishes in Majors.

From 1962, Nicklaus's first year as a professional, through 1983, Nicklaus finished first or second in a Major in every year but one--1969, when his best finish was sixth. He also famously finished second to Arnold Palmer at the U.S. Open in 1960 while still an amateur. And Nicklaus went on of course to win the 1986 Masters, at age 46, making him the second oldest Majors champion ever.

The 32-year-old Woods has finished second in Majors five times. At that age Nicklaus had 8 second-place finishes (and 11 wins) in Majors. From 1997, Tiger's second year as a pro (but the first year he entered Major tournaments as a pro), through the 2008 Masters, Woods already has three years without a top-two finish (1998, 2003, 2004).

Other comparisons: Nicklaus ended his career with nine third-place finishes in Majors; Tiger currently has two. Only Woods had more PGA Tour wins in his 20s than Nicklaus--Tiger 46, Nicklaus 30. Both Nicklaus and Woods have multiple U.S. Amateur titles and an NCAA championship.

I've had Ozzie Plan season tickets the last couple of years, and in 2007 for my $300 I saw the White Sox win all of two games, one in May, the other in September. Flipping through my ticket stubs brings it all back to me:  L 11-1, L 10-3, L 3-0, L 11-1, L13-3,  etc, etc. At the start of the second half of the season I bet Reader sportswriter Ted Cox that the Sox would finish behind the lowly Royals, and during a miserable August in which they went 9-20 it was looking like a sure thing. But a late September run of four wins--they had no streak longer than this all season--deprived me of a bottle of Blanton's. I wish I'd bet they'd lose 90.

Fortunately for those of us with PTSD from last year, the Sox are already into a five-game winning streak, and signs of life have included not just a sweep over the Tigers (0 and 7 after Tuesday's 5-0 blanking by the BoSox, who got their World Series rings) but a five-RBI game by A.J. Pierzynski, who capped it off with a game-winning three-run homer. That still didn't prepare this A.J.-jersey-wearing fan for the flashback to 2005 at Monday's home opener against the Twins.

The first couple innings looked like the bad old days, with Javy Vazquez laboring to give up three runs on seven hits through four and the Sox stranding eight base runners in that same span. Ozzie got himself thrown out in the third, arguing balls and strikes for no good reason that I could see. By the sixth, when reliever Matt Guerrier took over for Twins starter Nick Blackburn, the Sox were down 3-2 and Ted Cox and I were dissing the Sox pitcher in song ("Javier Vazquez / You're slow as molasses . . ."). But in the bottom of the seventh, Guerrier walked Jim Thome, and Paul Konerko followed with a single to center. This brought in Twins reliever Pat Neshek, who can't feel very happy about it. Dye, with another single to center, batted in Thome, and after Pierzynski struck out swinging, new outfielder Carlos Quentin, playing in left, followed with yet another hard-hit single.

Konerko, a runner so slow the Sox should raise money for charity by offering fans the chance to challenge him in a footrace, was at third, and with two outs, Ted was feeling tetchy: "Why aren't they pinch running for Paulie?" he griped. "They should pull him, move [Nick] Swisher to first, and play Blondie [i.e., Brian Anderson] in center."

"They're just trying to make a hero out of Joe with his grand slam," I joked. Then it happened: Crede connected on a shattered-bat drive over the left field fence. The kids to my left went nuts, waving their complimentary Sox car flags and screaming with glee. A guy in front of them was so overcome with joy and generosity that when the inning was over he ran to buy them ice cream.

I haven't jumped up and down so much in, oh, three years, and the moment really did recall that charmed season. The Sox won 7-4, but I'd point to bright spots more modest than a game-winning grand slam, beginning with Vazquez, who finally got it together and retired the next 11 batters ("I no worry about him," Ozzie said). Every single player got a hit, and--stop the presses--Juan Uribe took a walk. And there were two crucially timed 6-4-3 double plays, including the last two outs that gave Bobby Jenks (now sporting the team's wackiest chin beard) his fourth save. The Sox are in first place, with the Royals in a surprise second--they beat the Yankees Tuesday--and I'm thinking I won't be making bets like last year's anytime soon.

A couple weeks ago I ducked into Mother Hubbard's, just around the corner from the Reader's office, to catch some of the Sweet Sixteen games of the NCAA men's basketball tournament. Nestled between a 7-Eleven and flashy, crowded establishments like Rockit down the street, the old bar doesn't look like much from the outside. I was eager to settle into a seat in the back, in front of one of their larger screens, and get to work on my usual--chili and fries.

I may as well have walked into Duffy's on a Sunday afternoon during fantasy football season. "We don't have any seats open," the door guy told me, sandwiched himself between spectators, "but feel free to stand." Several three-pointers later, I finally nabbed a chair between covered pool tables that doubled as my coaster and table. By the end of the night my neck was sore from looking practically straight up.

Last night, with Memphis and Kansas set to square off in the championship game, I remembered Brew & View at the Vic. The last time I went to the Vic, which holds 1,000, I saw Frank Caliendo, last February, and it was standing-room only. But I've never done Brew & View, which usually screens second-run movies for a $5 cover and access to a bar, so I had no idea what the crowd would be like.

A friend and I showed up about ten minutes past tip-off, and as we entered I noted that it seemed strange not to see anyone outside. With the sounds of the broadcast bellowing into the lobby, we followed a roped area to a counter on the right, where one girl checked our IDs and another wristbanded us. Admission was free.

We scrambled inside, eager to find a good seat. We shouldn't have been worried: we were the only people there.

OK, so two dudes were hanging out by one of the bars, but they seemed oblivious to the game. (Perhaps they had come for the $2 drafts of MGD or Miller Light.) We were the only people in the seating area of the auditorium. That seats a thousand. For the entire first half, we had the pinnacle of March Madness all to ourselves on a 20-foot screen. And for the second half and overtime, we had the pinnacle of March Madness all to ourselves and three others. No screaming Tigers or Jayhawks fans, no drunk guys pushing into us, nobody between us and the screen.

When the game ended, the Jayhawks sealing one of the most dramatic comebacks in tournament history, the lights came on. But they kept the broadcast going, all the way through the One Shining Moment montage some fifteen minutes later.

When Kosuke Fukudome emerged from the dugout -- smiling bashfully at the media and shaking his head at the cold -- before the Cubs' home opener on Monday, the thing that distinguished him most from his teammates wasn't that he is the first Japanese Cub. It was that he carried a white bat. After they all dropped their equipment near the batting cage and went to stretch and warm up with a game of catch, Fukudome's white bat stood out amid all the black bats of his teammates, laid out like trout on the grass. Fukudome's Professional Edge (SSK) bat bore his name on the barrel and the once-cheesy slogan "Made in Japan," but it embodied how the connotations of that phrase have changed over the last 40 years. Compared with the black bats around it, it seemed to have a lethal quality, as it was white as can be -- white as Ahab's peg leg. It almost didn't appear to be made out of wood; rather, it seemed forged somehow, like Roy Hobbs' lightning-struck Wonderboy. And did Fukudome ever put it to use. Later that day, he lashed a double over the center fielder's head on the first pitch he saw in Major League Baseball, then tied the game in the ninth with a homer to center field off the Milwaukee Brewers' closer Eric Gagne (after working the count to 3-0, then looking at a fastball at 3-1, the same basic pitch he hit next). By the time he keyed the Cubs' game-tying rally with another double to left on Thursday -- a rally that would lead to the Cubs' first win of the season -- he was making the bat stick in the mind for another reason, for the way it practically recoiled out of his hands after a well-struck pitch as he ran to first base. I don't know what color bats Chicago Little Leaguers are going to be using this summer -- most likely they'll be brightly colored aluminum -- but I know Little League umpires are going to need to admonish hitters about tossing their bats. Every young baseball player in Chicago is going to try to mimic that flourish after crushing one.

Will we be following Yankee slugger Alex Rodriguez's pursuit of the home run record over the next few years the way we did with Barry Bonds--with steroids-inspired doubt?

If so, barring new allegations, our skepticism will be due largely to Jose Canseco, the admitted steroid user turned whistle-blower who's discussed A-Rod in each of his two books. In Juiced Canseco doesn't accuse A-Rod of anything but does say his reputation as being clean is unmerited. In the just-released Vindicated Canseco claims that A-Rod asked him about how to get steroids and that he introduced A-Rod to a dealer.

Canseco echoes these statements in a new interview with Jeremy Schaap for ESPN's E60, much of which is available here. Canseco says that A-Rod is "not who he portrays himself to be--not even close, by the way." He adds: "Ask him, point blank, did he ever use steroids. See what he says. Then ask him, at the same time, right after he gives an answer to that question, did [Jose Canseco] ever introduce you to a known steroid dealer. See what he says to both." Canseco goes on to threaten that he might out the dealer, given the name "Max" for the interview, if he's accused of lying about the introduction.

But A-Rod has already been asked, point-blank, about using steroids (many times, it seems). Shortly after the release of the Mitchell Report, which to Canseco's surprise did not name A-Rod, Katie Couric interviewed A-Rod for 60 Minutes.

Couric: "For the record, have you ever used steroids, human growth hormone, or any other performance-enhancing substance?"

Rodriguez: "No." 

Multiple sources reported that when A-Rod was told about Canseco's latest allegations he said: "I really have absolutely no reaction."

I can see this saga following the sequence of events involving Roger Clemens and his former trainer Brian McNamee, where one allegation was made, then mocked, prompting another and another until Congress stepped in and got itself mired in the he-said/he-said too.

Picks from your latest BAT award contender:

AL East: Red Sox (except for Schilling's "right biceps degeneration"--ew--they're just as good as they were last year, perhaps better if Pedroia and Ellsbury improve and Ramirez and Ortiz don't decline much)

AL Central: Indians (the Cabrera addition is great, but more hitting wasn't really what the Tigers needed)

AL West: Mariners (my money's on Guerrero or Hunter breaking down, and Bedard/King Felix looks good)

AL Wild Card: Tigers (just can't bring myself to pick the Yankees)

NL East: Mets (the Santana addition is huge in a mediocre division)

NL Central: Cubs (if I had more confidence in Gallardo and Parra, I'd say the Brewers, but I think they're a year away)

NL West: D-Backs (they could be scary if Drew and Young improve)

NL Wild Card: Brewers (honestly, this is totally up in the air--insert Rockies, Phillies, or Dodgers if you like; I'm going to go with the Brewers just because I wish them well)

ALDS: Sox over Tigers, Mariners over Indians

AL Pennant: Red Sox

NLDS: Brewers over Cubs, D-Backs over Mets

NL Pennant: D-Backs

WS Champ: Oh, hell--D-Backs, with Webb and Haren as the new Schilling/Johnson. I know it's dependent on a lot of improvement from Drew, Upton, Young, Reynolds, and Owings, but I'll take the chance.

Having narrowly avoided the basement in last year's Baseball Acumen Test by my blind pick of the Philadelphia Phillies in the National League East (like everyone else I had the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees making the playoffs, although I must insist I got hosed by the last-minute collapse of the San Diego Padres), I courageously reveal my picks this year. And keep in mind I am a former Golden BAT winner, although it was back in my early prime in the mid-80s.

First the American League. I'll stick with the BoSox and Yankees, in that order, in the East, with the Yanks the wild card. I'll join with the majority as well in picking the Los Angeles Angels in the West. But then I'll be a homer and pick the White Sox in the Central, not because I'm so optimistic about the Sox, but because I'm more pessimistic about the Cleveland Indians and Detroit Tigers (not enough pitching). The Sox' Ozzie Guillen is absolutely right in suggesting that Jose Contreras's return to form is essential, but by the same token Ozzie has to return to form and his aggressive ways violating the conventional "baseball book" as a manager. He has to find the right tweaks for a lineup with its considerable talent concentrated in the corner positions, and no I don't think playing Nick Swisher in center field will work. So I'll take the White Sox as a sentimental choice in the AL Central, but the Red Sox to win the pennant.

In the National League, yes, I'm picking the Cubs, even after manager Lou Piniella labeled it "an in-vogue thing ... because of the 100th year" -- that is, the 100 years since the Cubs last won it all. Still, they have good hitting (if they can find a dependable leadoff man), good deep pitching (Jon Lieber will be key before it's all over), and outstanding outfield defense, especially with Felix Pie taking the majority of time in center in a platoon with the newly acquired Reed Johnson. So I'll take the Cubs to win the NL pennant, over the Phils in the East, the Arizona Diamondbacks in the West, and -- dig this, Dusty Baker haters -- the Cincinnati Reds in the wild card, not through any fault of Baker's own, but simply because they have the talent to be this year's Milwaukee Brewers. Look for Baker to stumble into the playoffs almost by accident, much as he did five years ago, just as soon as he wakes up and makes room for Joey Votto, Jay Bruce, and Homer Bailey.

That said, I have to follow Sports Illustrated in picking the Bosox over the Cubs in the World Series. I'm trendy and a homer, but only up to a point.