Recently Read

Stars and Strikes: Baseball and America in the Bicentennial Summer of ’76
by Dan Epstein

My earliest memories of baseball involve the Philadelphia Phillies and their division championship season of 1976. No surprise, then, that I would want to pick up Dan Epstein’s Stars and Strikes, which is nothing less than a history of that very season and of the cultural currents then having their impact in the USA during the nation’s 200th birthday celebration.

Epstein comprehensively tells the story of the 1976 baseball season: its preliminary moments before the season began, when the writing went up on the wall and told everyone who could read that free agency was imminent, and that baseball would never be the same; the month to month storyline of the actual season, which featured a repeat champion in the Cincinnati Reds but also a changing of the guard, in that former powers like the Oakland A’s, Pittsburgh Pirates, and Boston Red Sox saw their shine start to fade; and the aftermath once the World Series ended, when the big money started to flow and it was demonstrated that free agency mostly meant that the owners would have to be saved from themselves (which still hasn't happened in any meaningful way).

Stars and Strikes
by Dan Epstein

In covering the nuts and bolts of the baseball season, author Epstein presents the reader with workmanlike prose; his accounts of games, series, and streaks read so much like newspaper beat writer accounts that one wonders whether or not the author wrote that way according to a specific stylistic decision. (Epstein’s jacket flap bio indicates no stints as a beat writer, so it’s hard to say whether he comes to the style naturally or not.) Though these writings may come across as formulaic, Epstein nevertheless delivers mostly entertaining accounts of the events of the season, particularly in charting the meteoric rise (and eventual fall) of Detroit Tigers phenom Mark “The Bird” Fidrych, as well as the earliest rumblings of the volcano that would eventually explode from the Billy Martin-George Steinbrenner pairing as New York Yankees manger and owner. (If nothing else, Epstein does baseball fans the service of un-rehabilitating Steinbrenner and reminding everyone of just what a colossal asshole that man was.)

Along the way, Epstein also recounts the cultural phenomena that made up the contemporary scene in that oddest of celebratory years. Music in particular gets prominent display in the cultural history; Epstein quotes period hit songs as his chapter titles, with each chapter including some notes about the year's musical trends, from the mellow AM gold of the Starland Vocal Band, WAR, and England Dan and John Ford Coley, to the emergence of the soon-to-be scene-changing genres, disco and punk rock. Other hot topics, such as Legionnaire’s Disease, Bicentennial festivities, killer bees, racial tensions over busing, and (naturally, in a baseball book) The Bad News Bears, get their share of remembrance as Epstein brings what is now a wildly alien time temporarily back to life. Those of us who can (barely) remember those days can attest that, yes, life in 1976 really was that weird, and Epstein does the younger generation a service by documenting that fact.

Nostalgia may be less than ideal—the word has actually been used to describe what once was considered a disease—but the occasional indulgence can be harmless and fun, especially when the subject is the history-bound sport of baseball. Though it occasionally falls into rote recitation of the year's events, and it never reaches the literary heights achieved by the exemplars of the "one baseball season" genre (a la Halberstam or Angell), Stars and Strikes stands as one of the better entries in this now well-established genre. Fans of the sport, or even just those with an interest in cultural history, will do well to pick up a copy of Epstein’s work and take a groovy trip back to a time long gone--at least for a few hundred pages.

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I Don't Care if We Never Get Back
by Ben Blatt & Eric Brewster

What is it about baseball that makes even its most partisan supporters feel the need to trash the game? To readers who delve into I Don't Care if We Never Get Back, that may not seem like a pertinent question. Since the book is a travelogue relating the ups and downs of two friends on a 30 games in 30 days road trip, and most of the downs are related to things that happen beyond the ballpark, you could be forgiven for believing that this book does little to besmirch the game of baseball. But it's not as simple as that.

Clearly, for no other sport would such a trip be possible; only baseball plays its games on such an abundant schedule that a game a day for a whole month would even be plausible. And no other sport would inspire one of its fans--note: one fan, despite the book's two authors; more on that below--to even contemplate such a trip, including going to the trouble of developing an algorithm that would provide--in theory--the most efficient driving route to get one's self all the way across the country and back for all those games, in minimal time. Only a baseball fanatic would go to such trouble, and thus the game itself comes under some scrutiny when the concept goes a little sour.

I Don't Care if We Never Get Back
by Ben Blatt and Eric Brewster

And sour it goes, on more than one occasion. Co-authors Blatt and Brewster find themselves in trouble all over the place: torrential storms that threaten their tightly woven schedule (not to mention their lives on the roads); ticketing troubles, including an unfortunate scalping incident; utter exhaustion due to lack of sleep, and its consequences; and a friendship strained to the limit by one participant's lack of enthusiasm for baseball.

It's that last item that hangs over the narrative right from the start, making the reader wonder why in the hell Brewster, who doesn't care much for the game, would agree to accompany the baseball and statistics mad Blatt on such a trip in the first place. It's out of friendship, of course, and that acknowledgement comes in due time, but the damage to the reader's enjoyment of the story is done long before Blatt and Brewser--in their prose, at least--come to terms with their fraternal feelings for each other. The authors play up the conflict for comedic effect, but for most readers the laughs are few and far between; the most likely impression the reader will get from these chapters is the sense that these guys are not very pleasant to be around. Why then would one want to waste time reading a book about them?

Other problems abound here, the major one being the choice to write the book in both second person and third person voices. The more illiterate among us probably wouldn't even notice, but if you understand composition at all, you're not likely to enjoy a narrative that bounces back and forth between "We did this..." and "Eric said this..." or "Ben checked that..." Perhaps it should have been a warning that the need to share author billing--and thus torment the voice of the narrative--would make for a less than successful book (and, for that matter, road trip).

Some further issues, mostly mechanical problems, take some steam out of this work as well. At one point, during a discourse on the worshipful attitudes fans take towards their favorite ballplayers, the authors offer this nugget:

In World War II, the United States government name a 422-foot ship the SS Christy Mathewson [sic] after the legendary Giants pitcher. The military, which surely should have no shortage of its own heroes to draw from on the battlefield or in the halls of Congress, chose to honor a man who threw a ball a shorter distance than a soldier could throw a grenade.

Um, no. That ship was named after Christy Mathewson, who, in addition to a Hall of Fame pitching career, served during WWI and thus suffered exposure to poison gas (during a training exercise) that left his lungs permanently damaged and susceptible to tuberculosis--a condition that ended his days on the mound. That story is well-known among baseball fans; how did the baseball-obsessed Blatt not know it, or not care enough to avoid besmirching the memory of one of the game's legends? Beyond that major gaffe, other instances of careless writing pop up: the sentence that begins "It's difficult to appropriate the exact moment..." (presumably, 'appropriate' should be 'approximate'); the chapter headings where the home of the Reds is spelled 'Cincinatti'; and the chapters where accounts of certain games get short shrift. Again and again, Blatt and Brewster come up short as proofreaders, at the least, if not as prose stylists.

There are a few redeeming notes here and there. The boys' rumination, in the course of a game in Baltimore, on the nature of "The Star Spangled Banner"--the national anthem as question, not statement, at least in its usually performed verses--is insightful and thought-provoking, even if the authors step on their own premise a few paragraphs later. And, as noted above, when Blatt and Brewster do finally acknowledge the depth of their friendship and what it means to them, they are redeemed (somewhat) in the reader's eyes.

Unfortunately, that redemption comes too late in the game to affect the outcome. I Don't Care if We Never Get Back has to go down as a loss for the authors and their readers. As with baseball itself, having a little respect for the game going into it is a big help; otherwise, the game is famous for humbling its participants. Blatt and Brewster should have learned that lesson on their trip, and if not then, then certainly by the time their book was published.

Reel Reviews

Million Dollar Arm -- Damn, those Disney people sure know how to make a movie. There's absolutely nothing surprising about this flick; everything is utterly predictable, you can see every twist and turn coming a mile away. And yet it's still an enjoyable, entertaining film to watch. Twenty years ago I would have cynically dismissed a movie like this, and that may be your reaction to this one; but having lived a little and come to recognize the value of sweet, simple, charming entertainment, I can see a work like this for what it is: perhaps not something impressive, but still worthy of our attention, and worth rooting for. Also, it's nice to be reminded that people in other countries love their children, too; we don't get enough of that here in the U.S. Bottom line: no home run, but a solid single up the middle.

Recently Read

A Nice Little Place on the North Side:
Wrigley Field at One Hundred
by George Will

As a newspaper columnist and television talking head, George Will has been the epitome of elitism and snobbery, all wrapped up in a bow-tied package that serves only the interests of the wealthy masters who pay him handsomely for such representation. But every once in a while, Will steps away from his political role and chooses to celebrate his other--perhaps only legitimate--passion, baseball. And when Will writes about baseball, he becomes...well, not exactly likeable. Tolerable is probably a better adjective for this other dimension of Will's character.

Loveable is not the correct adjective either, though it is one that is often attached--along with tag "losers"--to Will's subject in his latest baseball book, the Cubs. For while A Nice Little Place on the North Side is ostensibly about Wrigley Field, the ballpark is just a building, and it would be of little note to anyone but for the actions of the team that has spent most of the park's history as its primary tenant.

George Will's
A Nice Little Place on the North Side

That's a problem, because, while a reader should absorb an author's work with a dispassionate mind, the fact is that when a professional sports team serves as the bulk of a book's subject, only a non-fan can maintain that kind of stoic disassociation. And those who are not sports fans rarely pick up sports-related books. Those who will crack the spine of a newly minted baseball book are most likely baseball fans, who will bring to those pages their own thoughts, feelings, and memories regarding the team in question.

Hence, the central role played by the Cubs in A Nice Little Place... can undermine the reader's enjoyment of the book (unless, of course, you are--like Will himself--a long-time Cubs fan). While a baseball fan may be able to appreciate a telling of the highs (rare) and lows (legion) of the Cubs' history, he is unlikely to be moved in any great sense by the vignettes presented in this book. (Will eschews a straight narrative history of the park and instead offers a more episodic, mostly chronological telling of Wrigley Field lore.)

That is probably why A Nice Little Place... is at its best when Will shifts away from idle tales about the Cubs' fortunes and relates more information about how Wrigley Field has affected the team's performance. Nowhere is this clearer than in Will's portrait of P.K. Wrigley, the son of the field's namesake and "reluctant owner" of the Cubs through the much of the middle of the 20th century (when losing records became Chicago's hallmark). In the junior Wrigley, Will gets to portray a near perfect idol for why the Cubs have underachieved for so long; the man actually came out and plainly said that his goal, in emphasizing the Wrigley Field experience (rather than winning teams), was to cater to "people not interested in baseball." Will builds a solid case that such a philosophy--ballpark as showcase and team as afterthought--has been the ruin of many a Cubs season.

One wonders then, if the ballpark has been so guilty, why would a true blue Cubs fan be so quick to lionize the place? Will, however, never wavers from his Cubs fan bona fides, even expressing some cautious optimism that the current Ricketts family ownership will put a stop to all this "just have a good time" stuff and put a winning team on that hallowed field. How quaint. Anyone who's been paying attention knows that recent renovations aren't going so well, and the neighborhood around Wrigley Field is getting restless.

So it goes for the Cubs, and partisans such as Will will have to endure the tribulations for a while longer before they see better days for their favorite team. And if things keep working out as usual for the team on Chicago's North Side? Well, Will and his friends will still have their favorite ballpark--in at least some of its glory--to comfort them with memories good and bad. Such is life and baseball.

Recently Read

Holy Toledo
Lessons From Bill King, Renaissance Man of the Mic
by Ken Korach

There is a dilemma that lives somewhere behind this book, one that I have experienced many a time with regards to various things in my own life: when you find something great, do you want to share it with everyone else in the world, or do you prefer to keep this great joy all to yourself?

Holy Toledo by Ken Korach

The answer depends, of course, upon the nature of the great thing. If it’s the music of some hugely talented performer, you’re bound to want to share, since there’s no real way in which your own enjoyment of a song or a musician can be diminished by others enjoying the same work. The same applies, to an extent, with a restaurant that serves great food; certainly, you want others to patronize the place, lest it should otherwise go out of business; yet, you also don’t want the joint to be too crowded during those times when you want a meal for yourself.

And then again, there are those great things that you want to keep all to yourself--or, at least, you don’t particularly care if others get to experience their share of that greatness. You’ll be perfectly happy to keep that personal favorite truly personal, to let that secret joy be your own little oasis in an otherwise desert landscape.

For many sports fans in the Bay Area, that latter sentiment surely holds true for their appreciation of the late Bill King.

Recently Read

Season of ‘42
Joe D, Teddy Ballgame, and Baseball’s Fight to Survive a Turbulent First Year of War
by Jack Cavanaugh

Season of '42
By Jack Cavanaugh

Baseball is, famously, the “talking game,” and a lot of that talking takes place in the pages of books. Each year, the depths of winter bring a longing for the summer game, a desire that directs us to the bookshelf in search of yet another of the delightful “conversations” that are so much a part of the game’s literary tradition.

This year, I chose Jack Cavanaugh’s Season of ‘42 for my January baseball fix. That turned out to be an a major error.

The first warning sign should have been the title: Season of ‘42. That title--so closely echoing earlier efforts, in various media (including David Halberstam’s vastly superior Summer of ‘49)--feels unmistakably unoriginal. To be fair, baseball’s 1942 season is Cavanaugh’s focus, so the title may be considered apt. Certainly, being derivative could be overcome by exceptional execution. Great writing, like winning, cures a lot of ills.

Recently Read

Summer of '68
by Tim Wendel

It happens every year. The winter months come, the last baseball season is left far behind, and I get the itch for the game to come back. So I usually try to jump that gun and bring baseball back, a little earlier than scheduled, by picking up one of the many works of literature devoted to the game. It's not exactly a day at the ballpark, but reading a good book about baseball will do in a pinch.

Summer of '68 by Tim Wendel

So it came to pass that, on a recent trip to the local library, I picked up Summer of '68, an account of the legendary "Year of the Pitcher" by longtime sportswriter Tim Wendel.

Just based on the title alone, this book held enormous promise. It is an account of 1968, that most famous year both in baseball (the last year before division play, the year when true giants stood atop the mound, the year before everything changed) and beyond (a year of unprecedented upheaval, with assassinations, demonstrations, riots, Olympics, and elections...not to mention my own birth, during game 6 of that year's World Series). As with other such baseball books--accounts of one particular, stand-out year in the game's history (Halberstam's October 1964 and Summer of '49 immediately spring to mind)--Summer of '68 comes with the built in advantage of a narrative already created and neatly packed; all the author needs to do is dig into the details and tease out the hidden side of the already well-known story to bring the reader a fascinating and refreshing experience of days--and the game--gone by. Given that standard, Summer of '68 is a win--but it's not a blowout win by any means.

After all, it's hard to go wrong when your chief subjects are the 1968 St. Louis Cardinals and Detroit Tigers: two teams full of larger than life characters who matched up against each other in that year's World Series. The tale of Bob Gibson's dominance on the mound, fueled in part by his reaction to the King and Kennedy assassinations, makes for deeply interesting reading. So too with the carnival show that was Denny McLain, winning 31 games at the height of his career; Mickey Lolich, overcoming adversity, doubt, and envy to stand in the end as the Series hero; Curt Flood, the game's best centerfielder who still had his greatest challenges ahead of him; Tigers legend Al Kaline, capping a Hall of Fame career with an exhibition of true greatness on the game's biggest stage; and...well, the list goes on and on. Great stories abounded on those two teams, not to mention the fascinating tales that peppered the major leagues outside of those two cities (Don Drysdale, Catfish Hunter, Frank Howard, Milt Pappas, Luis Tiant, and more). Almost any writer could produce an interesting book with such characters and their deeds as his subject.

And yet, Summer of '68 never quite caught fire for me, despite its glorious subject matter. The blame for that lack of intensity must lay in author Wendel's shortcomings as a writer. Perhaps it is telling that Wendel, according to his bio, was a founding editor of USA Today; Wendel's writing in Summer of '68 mirrors the blandness of that 'least common denominator' publication. The author is just not much of a stylist; his prose is flat and uninspiring, and that deficiency bleeds some of the drama out of otherwise fascinating characters and scenes. Much of the narrative is choppy, and comes across as less a flowing, unified work and more a quilt of disparate texts cobbled together from unrelated articles. (The reader gets the impression that large parts of Summer of '68 were pieced together from previously published works, though there are no 'previously published' credits anywhere in the book's cataloging info.) The writing also contains many stylistic faults, such as needless identifications and explanations of things already identified and explained--small flubs that are individually forgivable, but pervasive enough to be distracting. All in all, Summer of '68 suffers greatly from burdens that are almost more than its grand subject matter can overcome.

That the book does overcome those burdens, just enough to make the reader want to keep going forward, is a testament to the work's core story. What the Tigers and Cardinals accomplished in 1968, and the maelstrom in which they achieved their greatness, makes for a story too intriguing to be sidetracked by the presentation's failings. In a perfect world, this story would have gotten a better treatment by a truly gifted writer; as it stands, baseball fans can make do with Summer of '68 and honor the memory of what were truly legendary days.

It Was Fun While It Lasted

It's a long season. That hasn't changed. I acknowledge that fact, and that we are only at Memorial Day as I write this, and that they are only five games out of the division lead at this point. But I don't think the Phillies are going to be playing for any championships this year.

Now, I certainly do hope I am wrong. Their recent run of five straight division championships, along with their style of play and the character of the players, has made this Phillies team the most memorable of my lifetime, possibly my favorite baseball team ever, and most probably the best team in Philadelphia Phillies history. But they're scuffling now, and all signs point to a drop off that will be difficult to overcome.

Yes, their best offensive players have been injured all season. Yes, there have been some injuries to the pitching staff. And yes, there was enough shuffling in the off-season that you can make the case that it's just taking a little while for things to gel. But I think there's more going on here than a minor, temporary dip in the team's fortunes. The evidence points to an ending rather than a new beginning.

Cliff Lee was hurt for a while there, but even so he should not be winless for the season. The bats have been mostly mute without Chase Utley and Ryan Howard in the lineup...and that's part of the problem. There doesn't seem to be much faith in anyone in red pinstripes that those two guys are actually going to play this season. Other teams have guys on the DL, but those teams nevertheless carry on without the missing pieces, and do so with confidence that those players will be contributing soon. (Though Boston has been very up and down, they remain a confident team despite the number of key injuries they've suffered.) And now, with Roy Halladay potentially showing breakdown signals, everything points to a siuation that's about to turn from bad to worse.

Of course, it's possible that everything will turn out right in the end. Maybe the ship rights, guys who've been hurt come back on or ahead of schedule, and the machine starts rolling through the NL again. It just doesn't feel like that's going to happen. The current Philllie team feels more like a squad that is under siege, a team where every time something positive happens (taking three out of four from the Cardinals this weekend, or perhaps seeing one of the big bats back in the lineup soon), some new calamity rises up and takes a big chunk out of them for another foreseeable future.

It happens. Good teams, even great teams, often have that one season in the midst of their run where, for whatever reason, nothing goes right and a whole year is lost before they bounce back. The A's of the late '80s-early '90s were like that: three straight league championships, then one oddly off year in '91 before a bounce back season brought another division title in '92. The Yankees and Dodgers back in the '70s met twice in consecutive years in the World Series, then took the next two off before meeting again in '81. I could probably cull through baseball history and come up with more examples, if it weren't so late now.

So how about it? Can't the Phillies do the same thing? Can't they win next year, if not this year? Maybe. I hope they do. But I also know that there are plenty more examples from baseball history of good teams that had their run, and then dissipated once age and player movement took their toll. I fear we're seeing the latter development in South Philly. So I'm bracing myself, and reminding myself whenever I grind my teeth a little too hard over another loss to the goddamn Mets: Appreciate the good times of the last five years. It was fun while it lasted.

Weirdness, Baseball Edition

This is an odd thing: the baseball season has arrived, and I did not publish any kind of preview prediction thing. It's the first time in several years I have not bothered to put together a prediction sheet. It's not that my life is too busy right now, per se, but I seem to have little time to spend on activities that are not "must do" actions. Nevertheless, I'd like to say a few things about the new season, just to put a few observations down for the record.

Most notable right now, several teams got off to very good starts. The Dodgers came flying out of the gate, while the Nationals, Cardinals, Rangers and Tigers have all impressed in the early going. Some of these starts will be meaningful in the long run, but I'd caution any fans of these teams about getting too excited just yet. There's a muddled record for fast starting teams achieving ultimate success; especially teams that were nowhere just last season, and are now pushing the envelope in April.

That may mean trouble for Washington. They have talent, but it's young talent, and those are the kinds of ballplayers who play well when they're playing well, but then have trouble bringing themselves out of the tailspin when the slump comes (as it inevitably will). I also retain my prejudice against St. Louis; championship or no, I remain convinced that that team isn't as good as recent results suggest. (They will, however, benefit from playing in an obviously weakened division this year.)

Conversely, Texas has made a believer out of me. You can't go to the Series two years in a row, then come flying out of the gate the next year, and not convince the doubters. I think they're in it for the long haul. I expect the Dodgers to stick around, too; their fast start suggests that their struggles the past couple of seasons represented artificially suppressed output, due to the toxic scene caused by the ownership fiasco. Detroit will probably stay up there, too, but I'm less certain about that.

On the other side of the coin, I'm worried about the team of my youth, the Phillies. They're scuffling even with their superior pitching, and that worries me. Injuries in the offense should have an impact, but even so a set of starters that good should keep you winning games. I'm not writing anything off just now, but check back with me in June, and the answer might be different.

There's a smell around the Angels, too, just now, and that might linger as well. Yes, Pujols will eventually hit his usual share, but I get the vibe that that team, for whatever reason, is less than the sum of its parts, and has been for a few years now.

As for my local nines, both teams look a lot like "four games over .500" teams this season--and that will play very differently on either side of the bay. An 83 win season will not find many friends with the Giants, but that feels like their ultimate destination. They just have that one step up, one step back feel to them, despite their own high expectations. Conversely, finishing over .500 will be hailed as a triumph by the Athletics, should they get that far. Everyone was very down on them going into this season, but as of this writing they're one game over .500, with almost half of Manny Ramirez's suspension in the books. That may turn out to be a non-trivial matter; if they hold their own for the next 30 games, and then get a little more juice in their lineup from MR's presence, the A's could turn into a very big surprise. Again, get back to me in June.

Finally, whither the eternal questions about the Red Sox and Yankees? Since there can never be any baseball discussion anymore without those two teams in the mix, we must address the issue. The good news is, I think the results of the last couple of seasons have worn away the veneer from these two teams. The Yankees look good, but not that good. Meanwhile, Boston just reeks of bad medicine. Worst of all--for these two teams; it's good for the rest of us--the mystique has been dissipated, and rest of the AL East has just about caught up. The Rays are legit challengers, as always lately, but even the Jays and the Orioles aren't afraid of the big two anymore. I think that erosion just might be enough to send one, or even both, of these teams packing come the end of the regular season. And a big sigh of relief for that.

Keep watching this space for more baseball related insight, or at least baseball related whining.

Recently Read

Baseball in the Garden of Eden:
The Secret History of the Early Game
by John Thorn

Baseball in the Garden of Eden

It's an annual ritual, on a par with pitchers and catchers reporting in mid-February, the pomp and circumstance of Opening Day, and the passionate denouement that is the World Series: my yearly off-season quest for a literary baseball fix to get me through the dark, game-less days of Winter.

This year's entry into that long tradition is John Thorn's Baseball in the Garden of Eden. Subtitled "The Secret History of the Early Game," veteran writer and researcher Thorn's volume utilizes a two pronged approach to cover the baseball's earliest development. Much of the text is devoted to a straightforward narrative of the game's evolution from various forerunner activities into the sport that would become the nation's pastime. Wrapped around that core history is Thorn's somewhat well-documented, somewhat speculative account of the "secret history" that surrounds baseball's "creation myth"--specifically, the doings of the members of the Mills Commission of the early 1900s and their specious conclusion that the Civil War hero Abner Doubleday created the game out of whole cloth one day in Cooperstown, New York in 1839.

Thorn's narrative about the origins of the game--who really developed the rules of baseball, where and when the game truly became "baseball" (rather than ancestral forms like "rounders" or "three old cat"), where and when those pioneers played the game, and how it evolved into the sport we've followed for roughly 130 years--is far more successful than the other half of his presentation. Die-hard fans, even those well versed in the history of the game, will learn new and fascinating facts about early baseball, including: the antiquity of some of baseball's current rules (e.g., the rule that the catcher must cleanly catch a third strike to record the out goes all the way back to the earliest schedule of regulations, the Knickerbocker Club's rules from the 1850s); the fact that the "World Series" was played, under that specific name, as the post-season championship between the National League and the American Association, long before the 1903 detente between the NL and the new American League; that the DH was proposed, and almost enacted, back in the 19th century; and the eternal fact that free agency, player salaries, and ownership shenanigans (including syndicate ownership of multiple teams) were crucial concerns then as much as now. All of Thorn's revelations about baseball's primordial form and environment serve to deeply enrich the hardcore fan's appreciation of where the sport has been, and perhaps where it may yet go.

Unfortunately, the other side of Thorn's narrative--his meticulous examination of the development of the Doubleday creation myth--provides less interesting fare, even for the reader most primed for this sort of history. The author's study and speculations on the Mills Commission, the role Albert Spalding played in ginning up the Cooperstown fantasy (it was known contemporaneously to be a humbug among those in the know, despite the poobahs' pronunciations on the matter), even his conspiratorial notions about the role the Theosophical Society (of all things) played in the creation scheme--all of this examination proves to be of little particular interest.

Perhaps the problem is one of time and perspective. While this story might have been a revelation to baseball fans 50 years ago, today almost no baseball fan believes the Doubleday story. Even the favored alternate history, placing Alexander Cartwright in the sport's primal position, has been superseded by further revelations on baseball's antiquity, in some form or another, far exceeding Hoboken's Elysian Fields in 1845. (Thorn himself notes the now well-known reference to baseball, in the laws of the town of Pittsfield, MA, from 1792.) Since the whole thing is now widely regarded a sham, today's reader can see little more than a historical curiosity in the tale of American chauvinism and vague Victorian spiritualism leading Spalding to rig up Doubleday (a fellow Theosophist) as baseball's Prometheus. The creation myth exegesis is a story that probably won't resonate with most readers, and holds little connection to the modern organization of baseball, beyond the continuing location of baseball's Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.

Thus, Baseball in the Garden of Eden reaches to the reader as only half of a good story--or rather as one good story needlessly paired with a second, much weaker story. Still, those Winter nights are long and dark, with nary a pitch, bunt, double play, or home run to take the edge off the cold. Thorn's book has the necessary ingredients to make it worth a look while waiting for the opening of Spring Training. It's about baseball, after all, and it's hard to go wrong with a book about our most literary sport. Baseball in the Garden of Eden may not be a solid hit, but it will get the runner over to where he needs to be: in scoring position, ready to move when that hit finally does come.

Authorship

Be it here announced that I have just published the third work of writing to go into my collection on Scribd. The latest piece, Bunts, Baseball, and the Virtue of Small Steps, is a study/rumination on baseball and life, and strategies thereupon for both. It's a brief little essay, and hopefully worth a few people's time. Check it out, if you feel like it (follow the link above).

Tripleheader

I have a tripleheader of baseball related grumblings to share with all of you. So without further ado:

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"How can you not like Pujols?" I've been asked that question before, and a few days ago I was provided some concrete evidence as to my answer.

Albert Pujols, doing his thing
(Courtesy memphisflyer.com)

That Albert Pujols is one of the best players in the game is undeniable. Possibly the best player. But something about him has always rubbed me the wrong way. I'm always leery of ballplayers who are big on the Jesus thing; the heaps of praise offered over the slightest accomplishments is intrusive and annoying. The fact that he plays for the Cardinals--a.k.a. Anheuser-Busch, hardly my kind of company--doesn't help either.

Now, however, we have the evidence of Game 2 of the World Series, a game that turned on Pujols's 9th inning error, and its aftermath. Pujols bailed out of the clubhouse after the game without talking to a soul, leaving his teammates to answer questions about the Cardinals' late-game meltdown. Not exactly the stuff of legends, regardless of how many home runs he hit in the next game.

Furthermore, this act seems to have been taken place before that incident. Yahoo Sports writer Jeff Passan gave us the lowdown on both Pujols's behavior that night, and his history to date. The money quote:

They could disappear because of the culture Pujols created, one the organization enables. St. Louis manager Tony La Russa empowers Pujols to do what he pleases, right or wrong, even if it’s the equivalent of ordering the lobster-stuffed filet and sticking the minimum-wage worker with the bill. He will face no discipline. He never does. That is life with Pujols, and the Cardinals’ Omertà means nobody calls him on it.

To someone who spent the Nineties and Aughts living in the Bay Area and watching Bay Area baseball, that sounds an awful lot like the behavior of one Barry Bonds. This is not to say that Pujols is juicing, or is an equal to the surly presence that was Bonds. But it's not surprising to see him described this way. 

Again, there's always been something about Pujols that rubs the wrong way. Pujols has never hesitated to point to the sky--presumably to thank God--after hitting a home run; did he give the big man any props when he made that error, thanking the Lord for giving him the lesson in humility he could take from that error and its consequences? Nope. Later, Pujols was front and center after his Game 3 home run binge; "God" was almost the first word out of his mouth in the post-game interview. But faith is not strictly for the times of convenience; if he's that big on his religion, he could have been out front and center in his trying moment, just as he was in his moment of triumph.

But that wouldn't have been Albert Pujols. And that's how I can not like him.

---

OK. I guess it's up to me. No one else has stepped up to throw some cold water on this whole thing, so I'll take up the task. To wit:

Theo Epstein
(Courtesy bostinnovation.com)

Theo Epstein will not make the Cubs World Series champs.

There's been a lot of fever over this move by the former Red Sox GM to take over the perennial sad sack Cubs. Apparently, a few days after Boston folded at the end of the regular season, someone rolled back a rock in New England and found an empty tomb, with reams of sabermetric stat sheets scattered all over the floor. Soon thereafter, the new owners of the Cubs had a vision of Epstein on the road to Damascus--or possibly Des Moines--and lo, salvation was at hand.

I hate to break it to you...no, wait, I love bursting bubbles. And this one's easy to prick. We've seen this act before.

Earlier incarnations of this sort focused on the new coach who was going to lead the Cubbies to greatness. Dusty Baker came in, hot off his World Series appearance with the Giants. Then Lou Piniella was going to break all the curses with his personal championship history, and a few well-timed kicks of the dirt around home plate. Special players have also come and gone. The arms of Wood and Prior, the big bats of Sandberg and Dawson, Grace and Sosa--all achieved some success, none even made it to the World Series.

Now comes Epstein, and lots of folks are making lots of obvious parallels between the Cubs and the Red Sox, assuming that if Epstein could turn the hopelessness of Boston into two Series titles, then clearly he must be able to do that for hopeless Chicago.

But here's the thing: Boston wasn't that hopeless when Epstein slipped into the big leather chair. The Red Sox had already been regular winners when he signed on. His term as GM started in 2003, not long after Boston's wild card appearances in 1998 and 1999, and the team remained mostly competitive in the years leading up to Theo's ascension. And Boston was already well on its way to competing dollar-wise with the "Evil Empire" on free agent signings when Epstein showed up to rule the roost. Epstein's predecessor Dan Duquette laid a lot of the foundation for the team's ultimate, future success, particularly with the signing of Manny Ramirez in 2000. Bottom line: he had plenty in the cupboard going into his tenure.

In contrast, the Cubs--despite a few post-season appearances in the past decade-plus--are a far greater shambles than the Red Sox ever were before or during Epstein's time as GM. There is much more work to be done with Chicago, and it will take time to accomplish what needs to be accomplished.

And that's the rub: it will take time. With time, Epstein (like a lot of baseball executives) could turn the Cubs around and build a consistent winner. But he's not going to have that time. The expectations are going to be sky-high going in; hell, they're sky-high NOW. What happens when the results don't happen right away? There's good reason to believe it won't be easy. Consider the depth in the NL Central Division right now; Epstein's Cubs need to battle--and surpass--the Cardinals, Brewers, and possibly the Reds just to get into the playoffs. Unlike Boston in the AL East, it won't be as simple as challenging the Yankees and beating up on the rest of the patsies in the division. (Funny how Boston's success in the early Aughts gave way once the Rays started to step up and fight back against the big boys.) What happens when it's two years from now, three years from now, and the Cubs still haven't made it to the World Series?

Here's what happens: the pressure will grow, and moves will need to be made, just to relieve the burden. A new manager, a raft of new players, risky trades with big upsides (and big downsides, naturally)--all the moves that can lift a team up, but which as often as not just create the instability that leaves a franchise spinning its wheels.

It's not true that there are no second acts, either in baseball or America. But it is true that it's never as easy as it looks. For those of you in the Midwest, giddy with expectations now that Theo is in the fold--beware. The deed is not done yet.

---

Finally, it's a tradition unlike any other: every year the baseball playoffs and World Series arrive...and every year, we get to read a face full of shit about how the TV ratings are the lowest ever.

There are a lot of reasons for this, beyond the usual trope that "baseball is boring." Any intelligent observer can point out that the audience is vastly more subdivided than it was back in the glory years; number of viewers and audience share will inevitably come in lower today than back when there were only three real channels (and you had to actually get off your ass to change the channel). And the less said about the wretchedness that is the FOX and TBS (a.k.a. FOX Jr.) coverage of the game's showcase, the better. As someone old enough to remember NBC's coverage of the game back in the '70s and '80s, I will testify that the quality is not what it used to be, despite the vastly superior tools available to the broadcasters today (read: bad announcers, overproduction, etc.).

But one thing that never receives much attention is probably the most crucial element in baseball's perceived slide into obscurity: the horrifically bad, grotesquely incompetent marketing campaigns that MLB inevitably trots out in October--a screed of awful commercials and bad strategy that, at the very least, has no impact on growing the audience, and may be actively turning away otherwise interested viewers.

What's the problem? Well, there's the commercials. The bad commercials. The incessant commercials. The bad commercials that are incessantly run during the very games themselves. 

The spots are some marketing moron's typical idea of how to sell the game. Some little bitch whines about stars and seasons and possibly what his weird uncle did to him when he was five; I don't know, I tune out after the first few insulting notes. This aural insult accompanies a visual pastiche of highlights that flash by so quickly that I half suspect there's a subliminal message about buying more Coke or Pepsi tucked in between the frames. What's the payoff? I don't know--all the flashing images sent me into a seizure 10 seconds ago. Just perfect. How many fans have turned off their TVs and not watched the games out of simple disgust at that annoyance?

And then there's where the spots run. "Catch the World Series on FOX" the voice over guy says...to the people who are already watching the World Series. Aaaargh! How stupid can you be? We're already watching the damn game--why are you still shilling us on tuning in? We're already here--go find some new viewers to cage into watching the thing.

Except, of course, that's the whole problem: they don't run those commercials anywhere but during the games they're trying to sell. You watch anything other than the baseball coverage--any other sports, hell, any other programming at all--and you'll never see any ads for the baseball postseason. If you're not already tuned in to the games, the whole month of October could pass by without you ever knowing that MLB didn't call off the whole thing. What the fuck? How the hell are you supposed to bring in new viewers if you never reach out to them where they're living? That is to say, watching other channels. People tuned in to Law & Order or NCIS or NASCAR--or, dare I say it, the NFL on Sunday--may ignore the commercials and not tune in, but if they never see any promos for baseball, it's guaranteed they won't be changing the channel. You can't succeed if you don't even try.

Of course, other sports leagues and their partners--it's spelled N-F-L--know that. Watching the baseball games this postseason, I've seen more of Deion Sanders than I've seen of Tony LaRussa. DirecTV has been relentlessly pitching their NFL package during the baseball games. And you're likely as not to see those same commercials during just about any program you turn on. Pitch the games, get the viewers. Football knows that; MLB doesn't even try.

Naturally, I lay this all at the feet of The Idiot Selig, a whipping boy I've been flogging for two damn decades now. Everything bad that has happened in baseball the last twenty years has had that shyster's money-grubbing fingerprints all over it. Whatever success baseball has had during that period has happened despite the "leadership" from the commissioner's office, not because of it. Maybe, if the old Used Car Salesman keeps his promise and goes away sometime soon, the game will see new, intelligent leadership in that office--someone who at least understands that you need to get your promotional materials before the eyes of the people who are not consuming your product, if you want to bring them into the fold. But I won't hold my breath.

Publication Note

malchats media

I have just this week posted a newly updated version of my essay "The Champs/Chumps Ratio," this time on my self-publishing feed malchats media at scribd.com. This new update covers events through this spring, including the Mavericks unlikely NBA championship, as well as provides expanded statistical evidence for the original essay's thesis (that the NBA is far and away the worst of the major professional sports leagues for competitive balance). Give it a look if you have a few.

Baseball 2011

Here we go: better late than never, I take another stab at predicting who will do what in Major League Baseball for an entire season.

Dedicated readers of this space will remember that last year's predictions were fairly hit and miss, and included some wild predictions vis-a-vis the expected final records of some teams, particularly those teams expected to finish at the top of their divisions. I made a minor adjustment to my formula, reeled in the number of factors I take into account when analyzing the teams' strengths and weakness, and overall tried to make things simpler. It seems to have worked, for the most part: most of the predicted division winners have "reasonable" records, though there are a couple of exceptions as noted below. All the rest of the teams went through the ringer and came out with records that look about right, given the teams in question. Of course, only October will tell how successful these predictions have been.

So without further ado, here are this season's predictions:

 AMERICAN LEAGUE

WEST
1. 97-65 Los Angeles Angels
2. 80-82 Texas Rangers
3. 79-83 Seattle Mariners
4. 78-84 Oakland Athletics

CENTRAL
1. 91-71 Minnesota Twins
2. 89-73 Detroit Tigers
3. 83-79 Chicago White Sox
4. 67-95 Kansas City Royals
5. 64-98 Cleveland Indians

EAST
1. 105-57 Boston Red Sox
2. 101-61 New York Yankees
3. 87-75 Tampa Bay Rays
4. 74-88 Toronto Blue Jays
5. 68-94 Baltimore Orioles

 NATIONAL LEAGUE

WEST
1. 86-74 San Francisco Giants
2. 83-79 Los Angeles Dodgers
3. 77-85 Arizona Diamondbacks
4. 74-88 Colorado Rockies
5. 72-90 San Diego Padres

CENTRAL
1. 85-77 Milwaukee Brewers
2. 84-78 Chicago Cubs
3. 82-80 St. Louis Cardinals
4. 77-85 Houston Astros
5. 74-88 Cincinnati Reds
6. 63-99 Pittsburgh Pirates

EAST
1. 99-63 Philadelphia Phillies
2. 96-66 Atlanta Braves
3. 86-76 Florida Marlins
4. 74-88 New York Mets
5. 66-96 Washington Nationals

NOTES: 

AL WEST: Back to the future: the Angels rebound and come up big again to win the division. I know there are rotation problems, but I expect them to hammer them out soon enough, probably with a trade or call-up (or two), and the rest of the team's strengths will carry the days. The Rangers still have a lot of bats, to be sure, but I still don't trust their pitching, again. This year marks the fall back. The Mariners will make strides, perhaps baby strides, but forward strides nevertheless, as they come back from last year's disaster. The big problem in the division is the A's, who have a lot of expectations on them, but then again, so did Seattle last year. Chances they live up to those expectations? Not great, unless ALL of their starting pitchers step up and post double digit win totals combined with perfect health. Otherwise, Oakland will see a disappointing step back.

AL CENTRAL: The AL's answer to the cockroach, the Twins, look like the favorites here. There's no killing them, even when injuries strike, and the odds are strong that better health is in the northern air. The Tigers seem to be running in place; same cast, same strengths and weaknesses, about the same results. I fully expected the White Sox to be the pick here, but the starting rotation shows surprising weakness, and I don't think the strong lineup will cut it. Back to the drawing board, again, for the Royals, now post-Greinke. Sad to see a team with such a proud history reduced to this, but at least they're not Pittsburgh. The Indians? Yeesh. The less said the better.

AL EAST: And here are the oddballs. I noted earlier that last year's predictions saw some inordinately good records come out of the forecasting machine. That problem has mostly been corrected, but here, the Red Sox and the Yankees both show over 100 win totals. Is there still a problem, or is this just an anomaly caused by statistical strangeness? Maybe a little from column A, maybe a little from column B--and maybe the third factor is, these teams really are that good. Both are truly loaded, and I expect at least one of them to actually exceed 100 wins for the season. It says here Boston comes out on top, but I won't be surprised if New York makes a change mid-season that shakes up the order. Again, I expect the Rays to be the junior partner--a good team that just doesn't have quite enough. They won the division last year in a surprise, but their first round playoff ouster seemed about right for them. They don't get so far this year. Maybe the Blue Jays think there's an exchange rate between here and Canada for ERA, and that that plus all the big bats will cover up the holes in the rotation. No such luck, hosers. Everyone's very intrigued by Buck Showalter's effect on the Orioles. It will take more than a baseball Svengali to make up for the fact that Baltimore has virtually no pitching. The crash will come, sooner rather than later.

NL WEST: Surprising strength from the Giants. Surprising because, as many seem to have forgotten in the wake of their championship, SF only got into the playoffs because of San Diego's collapse. Two more losses, and the Giants would have been watching at home. That said, they are well positioned because of their rotation to make it back to the postseason, though there are some roster questions that still need to be answered (the outfield, mainly). Again, I'm expecting more of the Dodgers than most people. They won't blow people away, as I predicted last year, but the situation is growing more stable by the day, and that bodes well for their performance over the course of the season. There are still a lot of good pieces in place there. The Diamondbacks lead the rest of a relatively weak field; they're improving, but not in leaps and bounds. Colorado still has lots of thunder in the lineup, but I still don't see enough pitching past Jimenez to make a big difference--as usual with that team. And the Rockies are prone to following up good years with bad years. The crash will come hard in San Diego, I think, although I don't feel comfortable about their record--the Padres could surprise again under Bud Black's wildly effective leadership. I have them in last place, but I won't be surprised if they find some magic juice again and creep up the standings.


NL CENTRAL: The usual hodgepodge of "almost, not quite" teams. That means the Brewers get placed in first almost by default; they don't make believers out of anybody, but I think the two AL recruits in the rotation, Greinke and Marcum, will pay big dividends by the end of the season. More hand-wringing on the north side for the Cubs--they'll probably be in first place until late in the season, when the cruelty of baseball will once again kick them in the collective groins. That seems to be already happening with the Cardinals: the Pujols situation, Wainwright's injury, and now Holliday is mourning his lost appendix. That and more agony will lead to a middle of the road season. At least the beer sales will be big, as always. The Astros are perking up. A bit--nothing major yet, but they are recovering from last year's disastrous start and have the nose pointed upward (though this year has not gotten off well, as of this posting). You'll think I'm crazy, but I see the Reds falling hard. I didn't really believe in them much last year, and when they went out quietly in the first round last October, I think they found their level. And I'm always leery of "out of nowhere" guys like Votto--there's little chance he can do it again. Their only hope is that Dusty Baker's forceful personality just won't let a slide happen. At least Cincinnati has that hope--the Pirates are consigned to some sort of sporting Hell. How can a professional franchise go this long without any--and I mean ANY--pitching? Seriously, someone should go to jail for this kind of bad management.

NL EAST: Now we're talking: the Phillies have the look of a dominant club, and they're only going to be better once Utley gets back into the swing of things. Barring multiple major injuries, they should be the class of the league again. Only the Braves can wreck Philadelphia's train. Atlanta is loaded, to be sure, in the lineup and the rotation; they're just one step behind the Phillies, and by the end the records will bear that out. Further south, they won't wind up winning anything, but no one is going to be happy playing the Marlins. That's a tough team with good arms and a few heavy bats in the order; they will make life unpleasant for a lot of teams before succumbing to the inevitable in the end. I love to take cruel pleasure in the pain of the Mets, so don't be surprised by my predicted record for them--I see little hope that they'll overcome their problems to make much of a move this year. Maybe down the line. And despite my pick for a fifth place showing, the Nationals really are getting better. I just don't think it will show up in the standings until next year. One more year in the basement, then brighter days ahead.

POSTSEASON

So what's it all come to at the end? I think we're looking at Giants vs. Braves again in the NLDS, along with Phillies vs. Brewers. We've seen both those acts before in recent years; the Phils will dispose of Milwaukee once again, but this time I see the Braves taking out the Giants. Just a luck of the draw thing. That sets up what could be a real war in the NLCS, Phillies vs. Braves. I expect the Phillies to hold serve and come through, probably in 6 or 7 games.

Over in the AL, I see Red Sox vs. Twins in the ALDS, with Angels vs. Yankees on the under card. For once, the plucky Twins will not have to face their playoff nemesis New York in the first round; unfortunately, it won't matter--Red Sox move on. The other series depends on Hank Steinbrenner's wallet--to wit, if the Yankees pick up another live arm for the rotation mid-season, maybe they'll have enough to get past the Angels. But I can't think of a difference maker who will be available then. My guess is the Yanks come up short at the trading deadline, then it costs them in the playoffs. So the ALCS looks like Red Sox vs. Angels. This will be a more difficult series than a first glance would tell, but I suspect Boston will prevail, probably in 5 but maybe six games.

At last, we come to the World Series: Boston vs. Philadelphia. No "disappointments" like last year--this will be a meeting of two acknowledged heavyweights, with plenty of drama and back and forth play. Everything in the book says the Red Sox get a slight edge in just about every category, yet...I'm willing to play the homer card, and I suspect that Boston is due to embark on another 86 years of torment. It says here that it starts this fall: Phillies in 6, possibly 7. Selah.

Horsehide Hindsight

So we're rapidly approaching the start of a new baseball season, and I'm beginning to get that itch again, as I do every time this year. And I will go out on that proverbial limb again and make my predictions by the first week of the season. But first, I think it would be appropriate to review how I did last year as a prognosticator.

My results were decidedly mixed in 2010. I knew going in that my process of refining my formula for evaluating teams had gone awry, that flaws had been introduced into the mechanics of the thing. Too many teams were predicted to finish with too many wins, probably because I gave too much weight to minor team characteristics; i.e., giving too much credit for having a good manager or bullpen closer, or for having a solid hitting lineup. In my experience, these are mostly minor details; they help, but only for a few games a season. The real meat of the matter lies in starting pitching; having four or five good starters does more for a team's chances than any amount of sluggers or managerial wisdom.

The flawed formula led me to make some preposterous predictions about win totals. I somehow concluded that four teams would finish in excess of 100 wins (something that I'm sure has never happened before), and I had another team pegged for 99 wins. As it turned out, none of those teams won 100 games; two of them actually made the playoffs (NY Yankees and Philadelphia), but only one--the Phillies--even won a division title. Boston did finish with a respectable 89 wins, but failed to make the postseason. The real disasters were the Los Angeles teams. The Angels and Dodgers, picked to win 106 and 99 respectively, both flamed out and sank in the standings--the Angels finishing a staggering –26 below their predicted win total.

There were other disasters, too. Seattle unexpectedly stank up the joint, finishing –25 games from my prediction. The other wild swings and misses dramatically improved on my predictions; the Reds beat the rap by winning +19 over my figure, while the Rangers rode a +16 in wins all the way to the World Series.

Nevertheless, there were some triumphs, too. Most notably, I predicted the order of finish in the NL East perfectly, and all five teams finished within ±4 games of my win-total forecasts. In all, I nailed the exact record for three NL teams: the NY Mets, Pittsburgh, and Colorado all finished exactly where I predicted with exactly the records I predicted. The AL East almost finished in order of my predictions; only Tampa Bay, sneaking up from third place to take the division crown, ruined that bit of divination. Eleven of the 30 teams finished in exactly the place in the standings that I predicted.

Overall, out of 30 teams, 14 teams finished within a ±4 range of their predicted wins. That's some pretty tight predicting for almost half the teams in the majors; given that we're talking about a 162 game schedule, missing the final number of wins by no more than 4 games is damn good. (It comes to 97.6% accuracy for those 14 teams.) Eight of the remaining 16 teams fell within a ±10 game margin of error; only the eight remaining teams were wildly off the mark--and two of those teams, Boston and NYY, did finish with high win totals and in the upper half of their division, just not in the positions nor with the win totals I predicted. In all, seven teams were predicted to be winners and finished losers, or vice versa. Most teams meekly followed orders and spent the season as winners or losers as predicted.

So all in all, the mojo could use a tune up, but even so the results were decent. I expect this season will provide my greatest triumphs yet, when I post my preview predictions in about three weeks. So keep watching this space and place your bets early.

Unexpected

I've been long on talking up the Phillies for how smart they've been in running their organization these last several years. I have made the point to more than one person about how shrewd the Phils have been in transforming themselves into the Yankees of the National League, about their recognition of the fact that--as New York has known almost since they came into the AL--the benefits of going the extra (spending) mile to get on top and stay on top far outweigh the downside of having to shell out major bucks to remain in contention year after year. The Phillies, at last, have "got it."

But even I am taken aback by their cagey maneuverings, which landed Cliff Lee back into the fold yesterday. It turns out there was a reason the Phils let Jayson Werth walk. I'm shocked that they pulled it off, but delighted nonetheless. That's the sort of ballsy move that I love, when I team makes it. The pitching's great, but the offense is having problems? Say "Fuck it" and double down on the rotation, signing another Cy Young winner and giving the competition a "Take that!" Great stuff. And you know, when they're still not scoring come June, there will be another big trade for the biggest bat available.

Because that's the way you do it: make it happen, spend what you need to spend, take the profits on the other side. Are you listening, rest of baseball?

Decisions, Decisions

I will not comment on the NLCS just yet. I'm superstitious enough not to want to jinx anything there, so I'll keep my lips (fingers?) sealed for the moment.

But, having watched the Texas Rangers clinch the AL pennant tonight, I do want to mention a thing or two about Rangers manager Ron Washington.

First, a bit of cold water: the Rangers are getting a lot of credit for not firing Washington this past spring when the news came out that he failed a drug test and came up positive for cocaine use. While everything ultimately worked out very well for Texas, that credit is mostly misplaced. Really, what were they going to do? Fire Washington in the middle of spring training and blow up their season? Sure, maybe they could have hired a new manager who could have pulled the pieces together and kept that team on its upward arc. But the Rangers' options were few and far between at that point. This is especially true when you remember the uncertainty surrounding the franchise and its financial situation at that moment. It says here that Texas kept Washington not simply because he is a good manager (and man, from most accounts), nor out of patience and compassion, but because they had little other choice at that point. It worked out for him and them, and maybe there's a story about good karma in that, but had that crisis happened any time other than spring training, the actions taken might have been very different.

So that's that. On the other hand...

In 2006, the A's--my local nine, as they say--won the AL West and made it to the ALCS for the first time in 14 years. Despite that achievement, they--and specifically, GM Billy Beane--decided not to retain the services of manager Ken Macha.

In the ensuing off-season, Beane had a choice about whom to hire as manager. The options came down to the A's bench coach--and Billy Beane best buddy--Bob Geren, and the aforementioned Washington. Geren had had some success managing the Athletics Triple-A affiliate in Sacramento, had spent several seasons as bench coach on some very good A's teams, and had served as Beane's best man at the GM's wedding. Washington, meanwhile, had been on the A's coaching staff for a decade (part of that time alongside Geren), serving as third base coach and infield instructor. He was immensely popular with the players, many of whom credited him for their success in the field. (If memory serves right, Eric Chavez famously gave Washington one of his Gold Glove trophies in appreciation for the coach's positive influence on his fielding.) However, no reports can confirm Washington's participation in any matrimonial ceremonies during his stay with the A's. Taking this data into account, Beane chose Geren for the A's managerial position. Washington made do with his consolation prize: taking over as Texas Rangers manager.

Fast forward to today. Geren has been A's manager for four years, and this season they finally reached the .500 mark, finishing 81-81 after three losing seasons. They have a promising future, if their young pitching holds up and they can get a few more bats in the lineup.

And Washington just won the AL pennant with the Rangers.

Of course, the A's declining record can be chalked up to many reasons beyond the identity of the manager. And there are many reasons why the Rangers have shown steady improvement for four years, up to the point of clinching their first World Series appearance in franchise history this very evening. But it is conceivable that, back in 2006, when he had a crucial choice to make, Billy Beane may have gotten a best man...but maybe, just maybe, he didn't get the right man.

Something to think about, if you have any hiring to do.

As Expected

Phillies back in first place, by a game as of this post. Nice. Now they just need to carry through and bring the division home--no jinxing it. It will be nice to see at least a few of my preseason predictions actually come through; at the moment, only the East divisions have held form. But another trip to the World Series for the Phillies will help assuage my feelings of frustration, to be sure.

Midseason Review

So we're at the All-Star break (or a day or two later--no difference), the traditional mid point of the baseball season, so let's take a look at my predictions made back in April.

In the AL, two of my three picks to win their divisions, New York and Chicago, are in first place as of the break. The third, Los Angeles, is in second place, a perfectly reasonable 4.5 games out. My choice for the wild card, Boston, trails Tampa Bay by 3.5 games--again, not an insurmountable lead. Most of the rest of the divisions play out about as I expected, with most teams within one slot of their predicted order of finish. The one wild hare (hair?) is Texas, who are far exceeding my expectations. I must admit, at this point, that the Rangers seem for real to me, and I don't expect them to fade away. That said, I reiterate as above, the Angels can still overtake them without extraordinary effort. Expect this to be close all the way to the end.

The NL looks quite a bit different. None of my predicted division winners hold first place at the moment. I had Atlanta as a wild card team, so I definitely knew they would make a move upward; I just didn't expect the disgracefully indifferent play of the Phillies, who should have a substantially better record right now, injuries or not. And San Diego and Cincinnati have played far above my expectations; I had both clubs in the bottom of their divisions, if not actually in last place. Nevertheless, I see the Phillies within striking distance (5.5 games out) if they would just get their shit together; I see St. Louis a mere whisker behind the Reds, at 0.5 GB; and Los Angeles, at 2.5 GB, breathing heavily upon the necks of the Padres (and the Rockies, just a half game ahead of the Dodgers). And the rest of each division stacks not too far away from what I predicted (indeed, with the exception of the Reds, the Central stacks exactly as I predicted--a decent trick even for half a season.

Put it all together, and I feel good about my prognostications. I'm definitely getting the hang of this. Not quite Stephen the Greek, perhaps, but moving ever closer to making this preseason prediction thing less a guess, more a science.

Selah.

Insanity

This post is a few days past its sell by date, but...

I went to the A's game Monday night. The experience was typical; the nachos grande was delightful, the weather was cold (as always for night games at the Coliseum), the game was a dog (Angels 4, A's 2, and it wasn't that close), etc. But that's not what I have on my mind. No, I'm thinking about the thing that should be atypical about going to a ballgame: specifically, the price of attendance.

I often hear the argument about how prices for going to a major league baseball game have kept pace with inflation, it's still a good deal for a family, blah blah blah. I'm sure you can make that case, via either lies, damn lies, or statistics. But I think something else is going on there next to the Nimitz Freeway, and I think that because of the parking fee.

Now, I didn't drive to the Coliseum Monday night. I never do; I always take BART to the game, because of the cost of parking. So it had been a while since I actually knew how much parking at an A's game cost, and I had to ask a couple of folks I passed near the entry gate how much the A's and/or the Coliseum are charging for parking these days. That figure is--I'll pause here so you can put on a diaper, because you're about to shit yourself--that figure is $17.

Seventeen dollars. Just to park your car at the stadium. You don't even get in to watch the game for that; you just get to rest your vehicle somewhere in the lot.

Some reading this will shrug in indifference and say, "Well, sure, parking is expensive anywhere you go these days." That's true to a point. In congested areas where there is minimal space for maximum numbers of cars--downtown Oakland, along Park Street here in Alameda, anywhere in San Francisco--there is a premium on finding space to house your vehicle. It will cost you. No surprise there--that's just simple economics, the dismal science in its most fundamental equation: supply vs. demand. Where there is short supply and high demand, prices go up. Simple.

But that's not the situation at A's games. The Athletics are routinely drawing in the neighborhood of 10K paying customers to their games. Among those few who do show up, a sizable percentage take public transit (like I do) to get there. In other words, for most A's games, there are--and I mean this quite literally--acres of area available for parking cars. They're charging high prices where there is virtually no demand.

Worse still, as I mentioned before, that $17 doesn't even get you into the game. If you're a cheapskate, there are three choices of ticket that will get you into the stadium for less than you paid for parking: the bleachers ($13), "plaza reserved" (a section on "Mount Davis" that is above and beyond the bleachers) for $9 (the cheapest seat in the place), or the "value deck" in the nosebleed section behind home plate, where for $12 you get your seat and a $6 voucher you can spend on food or merchandise. (Of course, almost everything food or merch costs more than $6, so don't leave your wallet in the car.) Every other seat in the house costs even more money, from the $18 plaza outfield tickets all the way up to the $48 MVP box seats on the field behind home plate, where (one presumes) every one of your whims is catered to.

Put it all together, and you've got an expensive night out. For a loner like me, if I drove to the game, sat in the cheapest seat, and ate dinner there (rough estimate, $10 for sufficient food and beverage), that's $36 for one night's entertainment. The cost goes up a steep slope if you have a friend or (god forbid) a family; but at least you get to share that parking cost.

And what does this all mean in the great scheme of things? How has this pricing plan worked out for the A's? Just peachy, of course! For instance, we can see that the A's are currently 26th in attendance in MLB; they average 17,997 per game, selling 41.2% of available tickets. Basic math informs us that 58.8% of their tickets--way more than half--go unsold.

And those figures are probably not truly representative. For one thing, baseball teams are notorious liars about attendance figures; teams usually announce tickets sold, not bodies in the seats, for attendance figures. Nor would one be surprised to find that the numbers were fudged beyond that, just to make attendance look more robust for public consumption than it really is. Even if the numbers are wholly accurate, with the A's their attendance gets boosted by selling lots of discounted tickets. (Their "double play Wednesday" promotion always boosts the gate count; plus they engage in various other promotional giveaways and discounts). Most games, the MVP seats are filled, but the rest of the crowd is scattered throughout the wide open spaces of the Coliseum.

In sum: parking--low demand, high supply, high cost ($17). Tickets--low demand, high supply, high cost (most $18 and above). Simple economics would indicate that both the tickets and parking are set way above their price point. And this in the middle of the worst economic recession since the Great Depression. What is going on here?

There are, I think, two possible answers to this seeming economic dilemma:

1) Everyone running the A's is insane. They (and their adjuncts with the city of Oakland and Alameda County, who have some input in running the Coliseum) are out of their fucking minds and completely devoid of any connection with economic reality. They should lower prices in order to boost attendance and gain the associated benefits of more bodies in the seats, but their derangement makes them unable to make sensible business decisions. Or,

2) This is not the product of insanity, but a calculated strategy to drive down attendance and make the A's seem to be not viable in their current location.

See, I'm leaning toward option 2. And it's the parking fee that gets me there. I can understand overpriced tickets. People will always want to go to the game; however they get there, when they arrive, they'll pay a few bucks (or much more than a few bucks) to get in the gate. You'll always find a few suckers who will pay top dollar. And no matter how you get there, be it driving or riding or just plain walking, you need to buy a ticket to get in. But $17 for parking? In a lot that, for most games, will never be more than 1/4 full? If the cost of the ticket is spitting in the customer's face, then that parking fee is kicking the customer in the groin. It is an expression of utter contempt for the people who, by any reckoning, should be the ones paying your way.

The next time someone argues that the A's simply can't make a go of it in their current location, in their current stadium, with their current karma, etc. etc. etc., I think that parking fee is the trump card to play against that argument. I think it shows that the current ownership simply doesn't give a damn about making the A's a legitimate and viable organization. They just want to cash their luxury tax checks from the real team owners and slink away into the night. The sooner they do that slinking, the better off baseball fans in the East Bay will be.