Time can speed up on you when the game starts getting beyond your reach. There’s just too much going on, and suddenly you’re feeling as if you’ve lost yourself. You’re a starting pitcher watching the runs cross home plate, like Zack Greinke of the Milwaukee Brewers was last night. You try and breathe deep and slow it all down.
But it’s hard to do. And I’m not just talking about baseball.
Life in the 21st century often seems like it’s playing out in fast-forward mode. We’re in the car, on the phone, online, answering a text, updating our status, and clicking. Forever clicking. Before we know it, the day is gone. And our to-do list and inbox have grown larger.
Two weeks ago, my wife and I had the rare opportunity to leave those clicks behind and let time slow down for a few days. To celebrate my 40th birthday earlier this year and Amy’s 40th next year, we flew to the Bahamas over a long weekend. Our trip was planned with one goal in mind: to relax.
So, over the course of three days on Cable Beach, we read books and held hands in front of the glistening Caribbean. We swam in the water, pointing out fish and picking up shells for our girls. We walked. We lay in a hammock. We ate big breakfasts. We hugged a dolphin. We slept. And, most importantly, we talked – lots. All those things that the typical day doesn’t give us time to say, we said. We also listened to each other, and this led to a lot more nodding and smiling than those fast-forward days often allow.
Two weeks later, we are very much back in New Jersey, where life has returned to normal. The question, of course, is how to go about it all in a way that makes time feel like it’s moving at a slower pace. How can we stay in the game and keep it within our grasp? How can we put life back in “play” mode?
Maybe the Coconut Man can help.
He was strutting along Cable Beach, selling Pina Caladas, Bahama Mamas and Bahama Papas. He smiled to everyone as he walked up and down the white sand with a coconut in hand. “Day-Day-Day-Day!” he shouted, as he bopped along, asking each vacationer if they were up for a drink. I was engrossed in a magazine article when he walked past me, but as I peaked up from the newsprint, he and I locked eyes. “My man, I know you’re reading, and I’m not going to bother you right now. But when you’re ready for some coconut, you just give a call.” We both nodded and parted ways with a fist-bump.
Another tourist approached the Coconut Man for help in getting some beach chairs. Instead of saying this wasn’t his job, the merchant called out to a hotel employee who took care of it. As yet another tourist bought some Bahama Papas, she gave the Coconut Man change that he couldn’t break with the money he had on him. So he explained this, went into the hotel, and got the right change. All the while, he never stopped smiling.
To walk through life with that kind of zest, that kind of awareness of all that the day-day-day-day has to offer, is something to see. Now granted, the Coconut Man is living in a pretty relaxing place to begin with. But selling drinks for a living on the beach is not as calming an experience as being a tourist on the beach. Yet, the Coconut Man seemed to spend his days seeking out all the sunshine, seashells and sand that a day can bring.
How can we keep the game from speeding up? Perhaps the solution lies in being ready for those seashells and coconuts, whenever and however they surface. And, to take it one step further, we can also seek out those shells, rather than assuming an ordinary day lacks the potential for beauty. It’s not easy, especially when runners are on base and the home crowd is roaring in our ears. It’s hard to hear the water lapping at the sand when the daily buzz is humming. But it is there, if we look – and listen – hard enough.
I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to the Bahamas, or encounter the Coconut Man. But I’ll see other people who carry his zest, and find the hidden “Carpe diem” inside their coconuts. Maybe, on my best days, I’ll even be one of those people. Now that’s something for the to-do list.
Showing posts with label Milwaukee Brewers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Milwaukee Brewers. Show all posts
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Streak is Over (One Sixty-Two: Day 148)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred Forty-Eight: Prince Fielder, Milwaukee Brewers
Prince Fielder’s major-league-leading streak of consecutive games played by a current player ended earlier this week, when flu-like symptoms kept Fielder out of the lineup for the first time in 327 games. Two full years without a sick day is quite impressive – but it does fall just a bit short of Cal Ripken Jr.’s record of consecutive games played. More than 2,300 games short, to be exact.
Consistency. The Milwaukee Brewers and their fans have enjoyed the reliable sight of Fielder at first base every day. He’s back in the lineup again, looking to add to his 190 career home runs at just 26 years of age. We take comfort in the constant presence of people – be it in our homes, at our workplaces, on our TV sets, or in the box scores. We also develop some occasional affection for certain material items that stay present in our lives for extended periods of time. They don’t talk to us, these items, and they certainly don’t mean as much as the people in our lives do. But sometimes we do look at them and feel a kind of reassurance.
Since my wife and I were married 15 years ago, we’ve spent a part of nearly every day with the same set of dinnerware. The set was a wedding gift – not an expensive collection, mind you, but a very durable set that goes by the name of Corelle White. My uncle has joked that this sounds more like a college football player than a set of dinnerware: Now starting at tailback for the University of Michigan, Corelle White! But this simple and functional set of plates and dishes has been by our side and at our table for, well, more than 5,400 days. That’s a streak, all right. We’ve fed ourselves on these plates and bowls countless times in five different homes, while also using them to feed our children, parents, siblings, friends, and even our departed grandparents. Corelle has hung in there pretty nicely, even enduring the occasional lick from a golden retriever.
But last night, as Amy and I drove into Manhattan for a quick anniversary dinner, we decided to make a stop at CB2, a home-décor store on Broadway. Some dear friends had given us a gift certificate to the place, and we’d been thinking about what to buy there. As we pulled up to the store, we made our decision: After 15 years, it was time for some new plates and bowls. Time to replace dear old Corelle White.
We didn’t select anything fancy – the new set is still white, still simple, and still functional. But the new bowls and plates don’t have the slightly worn look found on our dinnerware from 1995, and they look a little bit more elegant. We’ll use them tomorrow when friends come over for dinner, and our friends will surely compliment us on the new plates.
But tomorrow morning, before we take our new plates and bowls out of the boxes, I’ll eat breakfast once more with a trusty Corelle bowl. I’ll wash it clean afterward, then place it and the other Corelle Whites in a box for our yard sale. I won’t linger with a long goodbye, nor will any teardrops fall on the dessert plates. These are just things, after all.
But the kitchen will look a little different tomorrow, and something simple that I always knew to be there will be gone. The streak is over, Prince. All we can do is get our bearings, readjust, and start another one.
Day One Hundred Forty-Eight: Prince Fielder, Milwaukee Brewers
Prince Fielder’s major-league-leading streak of consecutive games played by a current player ended earlier this week, when flu-like symptoms kept Fielder out of the lineup for the first time in 327 games. Two full years without a sick day is quite impressive – but it does fall just a bit short of Cal Ripken Jr.’s record of consecutive games played. More than 2,300 games short, to be exact.
Consistency. The Milwaukee Brewers and their fans have enjoyed the reliable sight of Fielder at first base every day. He’s back in the lineup again, looking to add to his 190 career home runs at just 26 years of age. We take comfort in the constant presence of people – be it in our homes, at our workplaces, on our TV sets, or in the box scores. We also develop some occasional affection for certain material items that stay present in our lives for extended periods of time. They don’t talk to us, these items, and they certainly don’t mean as much as the people in our lives do. But sometimes we do look at them and feel a kind of reassurance.
Since my wife and I were married 15 years ago, we’ve spent a part of nearly every day with the same set of dinnerware. The set was a wedding gift – not an expensive collection, mind you, but a very durable set that goes by the name of Corelle White. My uncle has joked that this sounds more like a college football player than a set of dinnerware: Now starting at tailback for the University of Michigan, Corelle White! But this simple and functional set of plates and dishes has been by our side and at our table for, well, more than 5,400 days. That’s a streak, all right. We’ve fed ourselves on these plates and bowls countless times in five different homes, while also using them to feed our children, parents, siblings, friends, and even our departed grandparents. Corelle has hung in there pretty nicely, even enduring the occasional lick from a golden retriever.
But last night, as Amy and I drove into Manhattan for a quick anniversary dinner, we decided to make a stop at CB2, a home-décor store on Broadway. Some dear friends had given us a gift certificate to the place, and we’d been thinking about what to buy there. As we pulled up to the store, we made our decision: After 15 years, it was time for some new plates and bowls. Time to replace dear old Corelle White.
We didn’t select anything fancy – the new set is still white, still simple, and still functional. But the new bowls and plates don’t have the slightly worn look found on our dinnerware from 1995, and they look a little bit more elegant. We’ll use them tomorrow when friends come over for dinner, and our friends will surely compliment us on the new plates.
But tomorrow morning, before we take our new plates and bowls out of the boxes, I’ll eat breakfast once more with a trusty Corelle bowl. I’ll wash it clean afterward, then place it and the other Corelle Whites in a box for our yard sale. I won’t linger with a long goodbye, nor will any teardrops fall on the dessert plates. These are just things, after all.
But the kitchen will look a little different tomorrow, and something simple that I always knew to be there will be gone. The streak is over, Prince. All we can do is get our bearings, readjust, and start another one.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Moving Day (One Sixty-Two: Day 100)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One Hundred: Jake Westbrook, St. Louis Cardinals
For Major League Baseball, July 31st leaves some clubhouses looking like college dormitories in late August: suitcases strewn about, boxes stacked atop boxes, and garment bags flung over shoulders. This final day of July brings with it baseball’s trading deadline, the last day in which players can be shipped from one team to another without having to pass through waivers.
Almost everyone who is traded on this day is part of a deal that unfolds as follows: A pennant contender acquires an established veteran from a struggling team in exchange for younger prospects who will try and help the sub-.500 team return to prominence in the years ahead. In an ideal world, this kind of trade works out well for both teams, such as the deal two years ago that sent CC Sabathia from the Cleveland Indians to the Milwaukee Brewers. While Sabathia led the Brewers to the playoffs before bolting to the Yankees via free agency in the winter, Cleveland received a young slugger named Matt LaPorta who is now showing signs of excellence as the Indians’ starting first baseman. Unfortunately, it seems all too common these days that the playoff contender gets even better while the losing team ends up even worse than it was before. In 2003, when the Pittsburgh Pirates traded third baseman Aramis Ramirez to the Chicago Cubs, the slugging Ramirez led Chicago deep into the ’03 playoffs and remains the team’s starter seven years later, while the Pirates received prospects who had no impact on the big-league team. Baseball’s economics today tend to favor teams with more cash to spend, so the smaller-market teams often end up accepting less than the value of the player they’re trading in order to unload salary and save money.
However it all works out for these teams down the line, it remains true that today is Moving Day for dozens of young men. Starting pitcher Jake Westbrook, for instance, learned today that he must change his working address from Cleveland to St. Louis. It happens quickly, and ballplayers are expected to adjust on the fly. Of course, in a profession where the minimum salary is $400,000, there are some cushions here to the whole moving thing. Still, I try to think of myself in their shoes, and it’s a bit unnerving. I imagine being told, in late February, that I’ve been traded to another school in exchange for a first-year teacher and some SMART Boards. How quickly could I pack, say goodbye, and find my way to the new school? Which classes would I be asked to teach, and what would my schedule be? How would I bond with my colleagues, administrators and students? Would I be equally effective at this new place of work?
It’s an exciting day in baseball, but not necessarily an easy one for the ballplayers who are changing jobs. Those dorms can be overwhelming to a newcomer, and it’s hard sometimes to navigate your way through all the newness.
Day One Hundred: Jake Westbrook, St. Louis Cardinals
For Major League Baseball, July 31st leaves some clubhouses looking like college dormitories in late August: suitcases strewn about, boxes stacked atop boxes, and garment bags flung over shoulders. This final day of July brings with it baseball’s trading deadline, the last day in which players can be shipped from one team to another without having to pass through waivers.
Almost everyone who is traded on this day is part of a deal that unfolds as follows: A pennant contender acquires an established veteran from a struggling team in exchange for younger prospects who will try and help the sub-.500 team return to prominence in the years ahead. In an ideal world, this kind of trade works out well for both teams, such as the deal two years ago that sent CC Sabathia from the Cleveland Indians to the Milwaukee Brewers. While Sabathia led the Brewers to the playoffs before bolting to the Yankees via free agency in the winter, Cleveland received a young slugger named Matt LaPorta who is now showing signs of excellence as the Indians’ starting first baseman. Unfortunately, it seems all too common these days that the playoff contender gets even better while the losing team ends up even worse than it was before. In 2003, when the Pittsburgh Pirates traded third baseman Aramis Ramirez to the Chicago Cubs, the slugging Ramirez led Chicago deep into the ’03 playoffs and remains the team’s starter seven years later, while the Pirates received prospects who had no impact on the big-league team. Baseball’s economics today tend to favor teams with more cash to spend, so the smaller-market teams often end up accepting less than the value of the player they’re trading in order to unload salary and save money.
However it all works out for these teams down the line, it remains true that today is Moving Day for dozens of young men. Starting pitcher Jake Westbrook, for instance, learned today that he must change his working address from Cleveland to St. Louis. It happens quickly, and ballplayers are expected to adjust on the fly. Of course, in a profession where the minimum salary is $400,000, there are some cushions here to the whole moving thing. Still, I try to think of myself in their shoes, and it’s a bit unnerving. I imagine being told, in late February, that I’ve been traded to another school in exchange for a first-year teacher and some SMART Boards. How quickly could I pack, say goodbye, and find my way to the new school? Which classes would I be asked to teach, and what would my schedule be? How would I bond with my colleagues, administrators and students? Would I be equally effective at this new place of work?
It’s an exciting day in baseball, but not necessarily an easy one for the ballplayers who are changing jobs. Those dorms can be overwhelming to a newcomer, and it’s hard sometimes to navigate your way through all the newness.
Friday, July 30, 2010
A Phenom in the Driveway (One Sixty-Two: Day 99)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Ninety-Nine: Ryan Braun, Milwaukee Brewers
I was walking the dog outside my parents’ house, but my gaze quickly strayed beyond the leash. I could not keep my eyes off the Wiffle Ball game going on across the street. Now for full disclosure, I must tell you that the pitcher in this game was wearing a bikini. But for the full story, you must know that this pitcher was tossing balls on a driveway to her son, a youngster no older than 8. And the most eye-catching piece of all was the frequency with which this boy was smacking his mom’s offerings into the street.
He held the plastic yellow bat in a perfect right-handed stance, then met each pitch with a smooth, level swing that allowed the laws of physics to ricochet the white ball past his mom’s outstretched arms. Over and over, he met the ball with that free and easy swing, connecting right in the middle of the bat’s barrel. The boy’s grandpa was manning centerfield in the street, as there was no way this batting practice could continue without some defensive help.
When you watch baseball phenoms appear on the major-league stage – men such as Ryan Braun of the Brewers, who has dominated the game from his very first week in Milwaukee three years ago – you wonder what they looked like playing ball as kids. Did their immense gifts reveal themselves when they were in diapers? Stride Rite shoes? Air Jordans? How long did it take to see the budding greatness?
I would imagine that the signs appear at different stages for different players, and I know for sure that these skills are nurtured in a variety of ways. But this morning, on a quiet street at the Jersey Shore, I may have glimpsed a gifted young ballplayer discovering his talents on a cement driveway. And my, did he make it look easy.
Day Ninety-Nine: Ryan Braun, Milwaukee Brewers
I was walking the dog outside my parents’ house, but my gaze quickly strayed beyond the leash. I could not keep my eyes off the Wiffle Ball game going on across the street. Now for full disclosure, I must tell you that the pitcher in this game was wearing a bikini. But for the full story, you must know that this pitcher was tossing balls on a driveway to her son, a youngster no older than 8. And the most eye-catching piece of all was the frequency with which this boy was smacking his mom’s offerings into the street.
He held the plastic yellow bat in a perfect right-handed stance, then met each pitch with a smooth, level swing that allowed the laws of physics to ricochet the white ball past his mom’s outstretched arms. Over and over, he met the ball with that free and easy swing, connecting right in the middle of the bat’s barrel. The boy’s grandpa was manning centerfield in the street, as there was no way this batting practice could continue without some defensive help.
When you watch baseball phenoms appear on the major-league stage – men such as Ryan Braun of the Brewers, who has dominated the game from his very first week in Milwaukee three years ago – you wonder what they looked like playing ball as kids. Did their immense gifts reveal themselves when they were in diapers? Stride Rite shoes? Air Jordans? How long did it take to see the budding greatness?
I would imagine that the signs appear at different stages for different players, and I know for sure that these skills are nurtured in a variety of ways. But this morning, on a quiet street at the Jersey Shore, I may have glimpsed a gifted young ballplayer discovering his talents on a cement driveway. And my, did he make it look easy.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Wally, Willy & Lyle (One Sixty-Two: Day 72)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Seventy-Two: Lyle Overbay, Toronto Blue Jays
This may be a Wally Pipp story, and it might be a Willy Loman Story. But it definitely is a Lyle Overbay story.
Lyle Overbay is 33 years old, and he’s in his eighth full season as a big-league first baseman. He was a rising star for the Milwaukee Brewers five years ago, he blossomed in 2006 after a trade to Toronto, and then, well, he kind of fizzled.
This is the fourth straight year in which Overbay has delivered mediocre numbers as the Blue Jays’ first baseman. He’s managed to hold onto his job in large part because of his ability to take walks and play a strong defensive first base. But this year, with his batting average down below .240, it may be time.
Just like Wally Pipp, who famously lost his New York Yankees first base job to the young Lou Gehrig in 1925, Overbay may lose his spot to a young lefty slugger biding his time in the minor leagues. The young kid’s name is Brett Wallace, and apparently he can hit the ball a mile. The 23-year-old is ready and waiting for the day when Toronto picks up the phone.
Just like Willy Loman, who decried the loss of his salesman skills in Arthur Miller’s classic play, Overbay may be in his final days as a starting position player. If the Blue Jays trade him, it will likely be to a team that needs a lefty off the bench for pinch-hitting and late-inning defense. Will Overbay go quietly into the role of bench player, or will he fight the inevitable by clamoring for one last chance?
If indeed the Blue Jays trade their first baseman, there’s another possible role Lyle Overbay might play in the future. Instead of becoming a Pipp- or Loman-like symbol of loss or regret, perhaps Overbay will become the next Lenny Harris. For a few years in the early 1990s, Harris was a regular for the Los Angeles Dodgers, playing a variety of infield and outfield positions. But then Harris was asked to pinch-hit. And by the time he retired after 18 seasons, Harris held the major league record for most pinch hits in a career.
With his selectivity at the plate and his ability to make contact, Overbay may have a long pinch-hitting career ahead of him. By looking at the opportunities gained rather than the opportunities lost, he could do quite well for himself. In fact, he might still be entering his prime.
Day Seventy-Two: Lyle Overbay, Toronto Blue Jays
This may be a Wally Pipp story, and it might be a Willy Loman Story. But it definitely is a Lyle Overbay story.
Lyle Overbay is 33 years old, and he’s in his eighth full season as a big-league first baseman. He was a rising star for the Milwaukee Brewers five years ago, he blossomed in 2006 after a trade to Toronto, and then, well, he kind of fizzled.
This is the fourth straight year in which Overbay has delivered mediocre numbers as the Blue Jays’ first baseman. He’s managed to hold onto his job in large part because of his ability to take walks and play a strong defensive first base. But this year, with his batting average down below .240, it may be time.
Just like Wally Pipp, who famously lost his New York Yankees first base job to the young Lou Gehrig in 1925, Overbay may lose his spot to a young lefty slugger biding his time in the minor leagues. The young kid’s name is Brett Wallace, and apparently he can hit the ball a mile. The 23-year-old is ready and waiting for the day when Toronto picks up the phone.
Just like Willy Loman, who decried the loss of his salesman skills in Arthur Miller’s classic play, Overbay may be in his final days as a starting position player. If the Blue Jays trade him, it will likely be to a team that needs a lefty off the bench for pinch-hitting and late-inning defense. Will Overbay go quietly into the role of bench player, or will he fight the inevitable by clamoring for one last chance?
If indeed the Blue Jays trade their first baseman, there’s another possible role Lyle Overbay might play in the future. Instead of becoming a Pipp- or Loman-like symbol of loss or regret, perhaps Overbay will become the next Lenny Harris. For a few years in the early 1990s, Harris was a regular for the Los Angeles Dodgers, playing a variety of infield and outfield positions. But then Harris was asked to pinch-hit. And by the time he retired after 18 seasons, Harris held the major league record for most pinch hits in a career.
With his selectivity at the plate and his ability to make contact, Overbay may have a long pinch-hitting career ahead of him. By looking at the opportunities gained rather than the opportunities lost, he could do quite well for himself. In fact, he might still be entering his prime.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Shouldering the Load (One Sixty-Two: Day 64)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Sixty-Four: Yovani Gallardo, Milwaukee Brewers
With just one week to go before he can sign as an NBA free agent, LeBron James is most definitely weighing his options. When you find yourself carrying your team, it’s hard to feel great about your championship options. You start to wonder what it would be like to play with another franchise.
For the past seven years, James has been the dominant player on the Cleveland Cavaliers, and he has lacked the caliber of supporting players enjoyed by Kobe Bryant of the champion Los Angeles Lakers. Of course, whatever James has had in Cleveland is far better than what he’d have with the New York Knicks next year. But, after five straight playoff disappointments, James just might feel as though he needs a change.
For more than five years now, the Milwaukee Brewers have danced on the periphery of baseball playoff contention. Milwaukee has always had the hitters; it’s the pitching that has slowed them down each year. In 2008, the Brewers made the daring move of trading for starting pitcher CC Sabathia during the summer playoff race. The addition of this front-line starter was a difference-maker, and Milwaukee made its first playoff appearance in 26 years.
In 2010, the great Brewers hitters are still in that lineup – Ryan Braun, Prince Fielder, Rickie Weeks, Corey Hart, and others. However, the pitching is absolutely pitiful – except for one man. And that’s just not enough.
Yovani Gallardo, a 24-year-old flame-thrower, has started 16 games, won seven of them, and compiled a 2.36 earned-run average to go with 115 strikeouts. These are superb, All-Star numbers. But to show you how far removed Gallardo’s performance is from the rest of his team’s, check this out: Every other Brewers starter has yielded at least twice as many runs per nine innings as Gallardo. No Brewers starter has even half as many strikeouts as this man. The Brewers have two complete games and two shutouts from their starting rotation – both coming from Gallardo.
This is simply not enough. Starting pitchers get the ball once every five days. The way Gallardo is throwing, he’s as good a bet as any to win with that lineup. But there are four other games in between his starts. As a team, the Brewers are giving up five runs per nine innings. No one in the National League scores as many runs as Milwaukee; and yet, even this offense can’t score as many runs as the pitching is giving away for free. This is why the team is 32-40 nearly halfway through the season.
Sadly, it doesn’t look like a championship year for the Brew Crew. As for Gallardo, he’s not yet eligible for free agency. But when that time comes, you have to wonder if he’ll be willing to stay around Wisconsin if there are no other decent pitchers around him. The Brewers have time to re-tool; LeBron would surely advise them to get started.
Day Sixty-Four: Yovani Gallardo, Milwaukee Brewers
With just one week to go before he can sign as an NBA free agent, LeBron James is most definitely weighing his options. When you find yourself carrying your team, it’s hard to feel great about your championship options. You start to wonder what it would be like to play with another franchise.
For the past seven years, James has been the dominant player on the Cleveland Cavaliers, and he has lacked the caliber of supporting players enjoyed by Kobe Bryant of the champion Los Angeles Lakers. Of course, whatever James has had in Cleveland is far better than what he’d have with the New York Knicks next year. But, after five straight playoff disappointments, James just might feel as though he needs a change.
For more than five years now, the Milwaukee Brewers have danced on the periphery of baseball playoff contention. Milwaukee has always had the hitters; it’s the pitching that has slowed them down each year. In 2008, the Brewers made the daring move of trading for starting pitcher CC Sabathia during the summer playoff race. The addition of this front-line starter was a difference-maker, and Milwaukee made its first playoff appearance in 26 years.
In 2010, the great Brewers hitters are still in that lineup – Ryan Braun, Prince Fielder, Rickie Weeks, Corey Hart, and others. However, the pitching is absolutely pitiful – except for one man. And that’s just not enough.
Yovani Gallardo, a 24-year-old flame-thrower, has started 16 games, won seven of them, and compiled a 2.36 earned-run average to go with 115 strikeouts. These are superb, All-Star numbers. But to show you how far removed Gallardo’s performance is from the rest of his team’s, check this out: Every other Brewers starter has yielded at least twice as many runs per nine innings as Gallardo. No Brewers starter has even half as many strikeouts as this man. The Brewers have two complete games and two shutouts from their starting rotation – both coming from Gallardo.
This is simply not enough. Starting pitchers get the ball once every five days. The way Gallardo is throwing, he’s as good a bet as any to win with that lineup. But there are four other games in between his starts. As a team, the Brewers are giving up five runs per nine innings. No one in the National League scores as many runs as Milwaukee; and yet, even this offense can’t score as many runs as the pitching is giving away for free. This is why the team is 32-40 nearly halfway through the season.
Sadly, it doesn’t look like a championship year for the Brew Crew. As for Gallardo, he’s not yet eligible for free agency. But when that time comes, you have to wonder if he’ll be willing to stay around Wisconsin if there are no other decent pitchers around him. The Brewers have time to re-tool; LeBron would surely advise them to get started.
Monday, May 17, 2010
When AC/DC Loses its Cool (One Sixty-Two: Day 25)
Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day Twenty-Five: Trevor Hoffman, Milwaukee Brewers
I’m officially a generation older than my students now, even without the gray hair. But at 39 years of age, and with young kids at home, I feel as though I’m able to connect with teen-agers and show my own understanding of their world pretty well. I don’t know all their favorite songs, but I know enough. I don’t try to use the cool slang words of the moment, but I try and speak to teens like someone who’s aware of their world.
Sometimes, though, I wonder when that connection will stop. When will I start to appear out of touch in the eyes of my students? When will I start to seem like a guy who’s era has long since passed? Will that ever happen? Can I avoid it and find some fountain of youth within my classroom, or is my day of reckoning inching ever so close?
You can’t stop and think about these things too often, because you’ll find yourself trying too hard. But it crosses the mind briefly, and you let it sit for a minute before moving on with the lesson plans. I was thinking about this the other day as I looked at this year’s statistics for Trevor Hoffman.
At age 42, Hoffman is a certain Hall of Famer. He has saved 596 games, more than any baseball player in history. He’s been an All-Star many times, he’s played for nearly 20 years, and he’s made tens of millions of dollars thanks to his ability to get three quick outs in the ninth inning of close games. When he retires, Hoffman’s number 51 will be retired in San Diego, where his entrance into Padres games for 16 years brought a mix of heavy metal and heavy cheers.
But so far this year, Hoffman has been brutal. He’s pitched 13 innings for the Brewers and yielded 16 runs. He’s allowed an average of almost two runners on base per inning. Already this year, he’s given up three times as many home runs as he did all of last season.
So is this it? Is this where Hoffman becomes the old fogey who feels the sting of spitballs on the back of his neck? Is this where he starts beginning his sentences with the words “In my day”? Is this where the AC/DC song to which he’s entered games for years becomes Perry Como-esque to the ears of the modern fan?
Or is it just nothing more than a bad start? It is, of course, only mid-May. The baseball season, like a school year, is a marathon. And there’s always time to find your inner cool once more.
Day Twenty-Five: Trevor Hoffman, Milwaukee Brewers
I’m officially a generation older than my students now, even without the gray hair. But at 39 years of age, and with young kids at home, I feel as though I’m able to connect with teen-agers and show my own understanding of their world pretty well. I don’t know all their favorite songs, but I know enough. I don’t try to use the cool slang words of the moment, but I try and speak to teens like someone who’s aware of their world.
Sometimes, though, I wonder when that connection will stop. When will I start to appear out of touch in the eyes of my students? When will I start to seem like a guy who’s era has long since passed? Will that ever happen? Can I avoid it and find some fountain of youth within my classroom, or is my day of reckoning inching ever so close?
You can’t stop and think about these things too often, because you’ll find yourself trying too hard. But it crosses the mind briefly, and you let it sit for a minute before moving on with the lesson plans. I was thinking about this the other day as I looked at this year’s statistics for Trevor Hoffman.
At age 42, Hoffman is a certain Hall of Famer. He has saved 596 games, more than any baseball player in history. He’s been an All-Star many times, he’s played for nearly 20 years, and he’s made tens of millions of dollars thanks to his ability to get three quick outs in the ninth inning of close games. When he retires, Hoffman’s number 51 will be retired in San Diego, where his entrance into Padres games for 16 years brought a mix of heavy metal and heavy cheers.
But so far this year, Hoffman has been brutal. He’s pitched 13 innings for the Brewers and yielded 16 runs. He’s allowed an average of almost two runners on base per inning. Already this year, he’s given up three times as many home runs as he did all of last season.
So is this it? Is this where Hoffman becomes the old fogey who feels the sting of spitballs on the back of his neck? Is this where he starts beginning his sentences with the words “In my day”? Is this where the AC/DC song to which he’s entered games for years becomes Perry Como-esque to the ears of the modern fan?
Or is it just nothing more than a bad start? It is, of course, only mid-May. The baseball season, like a school year, is a marathon. And there’s always time to find your inner cool once more.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Working to Potential (One Sixty-Two: Day One)
Writer’s note: This is the first in a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.
Day One: Rickie Weeks, Milwaukee Brewers
Third marking period grades were due yesterday, so I spent my Thursday morning huddled over the laptop. I was inserting grade letters, absence numbers, and teacher comments for my students. In this age of computerized report cards, the teacher also selects from a group of comments, each of them given a particular number. As I scan through the list in search of the proper comment for each student, I try and avoid – as much as possible – the potent Number 4:
Not working to potential.
Ouch. It stings just to say the words. It speaks, to a degree, of personal failure. It also feels a bit like a lecture. And I’d rather talk with kids than lecture them. You also know that the teens who are not working to their potential have surely heard those words dozens, if not hundreds, of times from family members, friends, and other teachers.
So do they really need to hear it again? From me?
This year, the Milwaukee Brewers sent a 27-year-old man out to play second base on Opening Day. The young man has been playing regularly in the big leagues since he was 22, and the word that’s been batted about more than any other when referring to this man is, most assuredly, potential.
His name is Rickie Weeks, and while the scouts say he has all the talent in the world, he’s only hit over .240 once in a full season. He’s never hit more than 16 home runs in a year, and he’s never driven in more than 46. Last season, in the midst of what seemed like a breakthrough spring, Weeks sustained a wrist injury that ended his season.
He returned this year, and after nearly three weeks, he is playing about as well as anyone in the game. Hitting for average. Hitting for power. Scoring runs. Leading the Brewers’ dangerous offense from the leadoff spot. Weeks is playing, without question, like an All-Star. The Brewers have the ability to explode, as they did for 20 runs last night, with their second baseman leading the way.
So what happens when you do reach your potential? Do you erase the word from your memory? Do you finally rest easy at night? Or do you work even harder, in the hopes that you’ll never have to hear it again?
I’m guessing it’s the latter. Here’s to you, Rickie. Your report card so far is one to post on the refrigerator. No sight at all of comment No. 4.
Day One: Rickie Weeks, Milwaukee Brewers
Third marking period grades were due yesterday, so I spent my Thursday morning huddled over the laptop. I was inserting grade letters, absence numbers, and teacher comments for my students. In this age of computerized report cards, the teacher also selects from a group of comments, each of them given a particular number. As I scan through the list in search of the proper comment for each student, I try and avoid – as much as possible – the potent Number 4:
Not working to potential.
Ouch. It stings just to say the words. It speaks, to a degree, of personal failure. It also feels a bit like a lecture. And I’d rather talk with kids than lecture them. You also know that the teens who are not working to their potential have surely heard those words dozens, if not hundreds, of times from family members, friends, and other teachers.
So do they really need to hear it again? From me?
This year, the Milwaukee Brewers sent a 27-year-old man out to play second base on Opening Day. The young man has been playing regularly in the big leagues since he was 22, and the word that’s been batted about more than any other when referring to this man is, most assuredly, potential.
His name is Rickie Weeks, and while the scouts say he has all the talent in the world, he’s only hit over .240 once in a full season. He’s never hit more than 16 home runs in a year, and he’s never driven in more than 46. Last season, in the midst of what seemed like a breakthrough spring, Weeks sustained a wrist injury that ended his season.
He returned this year, and after nearly three weeks, he is playing about as well as anyone in the game. Hitting for average. Hitting for power. Scoring runs. Leading the Brewers’ dangerous offense from the leadoff spot. Weeks is playing, without question, like an All-Star. The Brewers have the ability to explode, as they did for 20 runs last night, with their second baseman leading the way.
So what happens when you do reach your potential? Do you erase the word from your memory? Do you finally rest easy at night? Or do you work even harder, in the hopes that you’ll never have to hear it again?
I’m guessing it’s the latter. Here’s to you, Rickie. Your report card so far is one to post on the refrigerator. No sight at all of comment No. 4.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Your First Time
They are 25-year-old men and women, born and raised in Wisconsin. They’re three years out of college, perhaps even married by now - maybe even parents. And yet they’ve never seen their state’s pro baseball team in the playoffs. That will change, at long last, tomorrow.
There is no resident of Tampa or St. Petersburg who can tell you about the last time their hometown team was in the Major League Baseball playoffs, because it’s never happened. In the 105 years since the first World Series, there is no listing of a “Tampa Bay” among any season’s postseason clubs. That, too, will change this week.
For all the hand-wringing and teeth-clenching that often accompanies the elimination of teams from playoff contention in September, there is also the indisputable fact that somewhere, there are people weeping with joy at the surprise realization that their own favorite team will warm the October chill with a trip to the playoffs. This fall, two such Cinderella teams have brought their fans immeasurable joy this past week. And although this fall’s prime story is the Chicago Cubs and their attempt to win a World Series for the first time in 100 years, there are two other sets of fans who have had to wait much longer than the Cubs to see their team in the playoffs: They are fans of the Milwaukee Brewers and Tampa Bay Rays.
For the Brewers, this year marks their first playoff appearance since the American League pennant season of 1982. For the Rays, this year marks their first season over .500, let alone in the playoffs. Both teams have spent the majority of their history in the lower levels of their respective leagues. The fans in Milwaukee and Tampa Bay are used to watching their teams lose out on the glory. That’s what makes this season so special for them.
I can only imagine what it must be like for an 8-year-old fan of either team. Or even a 28-year-old. In these weighty days of economic turmoil, widespread international crises and high-stakes politics, there are some frivolous things worth thinking about for a few minutes. I won’t have the time to watch all the postseason baseball games this fall. But I will sneak a peek at the Brewers and Rays games when I can. And I’ll think of the kids in those two cities, knowing that they’re feeling that lump in their throats when they see the bunting hanging from the façade in their team’s stadium, or when they watch their favorite player come up to bat with a man on second and two out in the ninth. I hope they’ll enjoy it all, and remember the feeling.
There are some people in Wisconsin and Florida gaining a memory or two this week that will frame their childhood – and perhaps even their life – in some small way. That’s worth something.
There is no resident of Tampa or St. Petersburg who can tell you about the last time their hometown team was in the Major League Baseball playoffs, because it’s never happened. In the 105 years since the first World Series, there is no listing of a “Tampa Bay” among any season’s postseason clubs. That, too, will change this week.
For all the hand-wringing and teeth-clenching that often accompanies the elimination of teams from playoff contention in September, there is also the indisputable fact that somewhere, there are people weeping with joy at the surprise realization that their own favorite team will warm the October chill with a trip to the playoffs. This fall, two such Cinderella teams have brought their fans immeasurable joy this past week. And although this fall’s prime story is the Chicago Cubs and their attempt to win a World Series for the first time in 100 years, there are two other sets of fans who have had to wait much longer than the Cubs to see their team in the playoffs: They are fans of the Milwaukee Brewers and Tampa Bay Rays.
For the Brewers, this year marks their first playoff appearance since the American League pennant season of 1982. For the Rays, this year marks their first season over .500, let alone in the playoffs. Both teams have spent the majority of their history in the lower levels of their respective leagues. The fans in Milwaukee and Tampa Bay are used to watching their teams lose out on the glory. That’s what makes this season so special for them.
I can only imagine what it must be like for an 8-year-old fan of either team. Or even a 28-year-old. In these weighty days of economic turmoil, widespread international crises and high-stakes politics, there are some frivolous things worth thinking about for a few minutes. I won’t have the time to watch all the postseason baseball games this fall. But I will sneak a peek at the Brewers and Rays games when I can. And I’ll think of the kids in those two cities, knowing that they’re feeling that lump in their throats when they see the bunting hanging from the façade in their team’s stadium, or when they watch their favorite player come up to bat with a man on second and two out in the ninth. I hope they’ll enjoy it all, and remember the feeling.
There are some people in Wisconsin and Florida gaining a memory or two this week that will frame their childhood – and perhaps even their life – in some small way. That’s worth something.
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