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 Fifty-Four: Jose Bautista, Toronto Blue Jays
She called me at work today with one of the major announcements of her 5-year-old life.
“Hi Daddy,” Chelsea said on the phone. “I lost my first tooth.”
Whoa! And the crowd roared its approval. Or, rather, the Daddy roared in excitement. When I saw her later, she opened wide and showed me a gap in the bottom row of teeth. Chelsea said it was much easier to chew now, and that she looked forward to munching on carrots again.
At night, she tucked her little plastic tooth holder under the pillow, and asked me assorted questions about how the Tooth Fairy operates as I sang her to sleep. “Magic,” I kept whispering, “magic.” My wife, meanwhile, was out securing a bag of fairy dust to place in that plastic holder, along with some cold, hard cash. It was a good day to be 5 and toothless.
Magic. It happens, you know; don’t lose faith just because you’ve got your wisdom teeth. For the first six years of his major-league career, Jose Bautista never hit more than 16 home runs in a season, never drove in more than 63 runs and never posted an average higher than .254. This year, in his second full season as a Toronto Blue Jay, Bautista has mashed his way to the title of baseball’s home run king. Today, in a 1-0 win against the Mariners, Bautista blasted his 50th home run of the season. He’s driven in 115 runs, his batting average is over .260, and his slugging percentage is well over .600. There has been no breakthrough in 2010 quite like that of the 29-year-old Bautista.
You can say all you want about the guy tweaking his batting stance, or working out more in the off-season. As for me, I’m going with the fairy dust, the baseball ghosts, and the unexplainable magic that turns a utility player into an MVP candidate.
Jose Bautista lost all his baby teeth long ago, so there are no dollar bills under his pillow tonight. But after home run number 50, the Blue Jays slugger can rest assured that there will be some very large checks headed his way this winter. The reward for losing a tooth may be dollars and dust, but the prize for becoming a superstar is one that can be deposited, saved and invested.
Showing posts with label Toronto Blue Jays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toronto Blue Jays. Show all posts
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Now You Find Yourself in '82 (One Sixty-Two: Day 120)
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 Twenty: B.J. Upton, Tampa Bay Rays
We’re going to make a baseball-to-movies analogy here, and it manages to connect E.T. to B.J. Let’s start with the films.
In 1982, the Oscar nominees for Best Picture were so outstanding that Academy Award voters had an incredible challenge on their hands. The most notable nominee was Steven Spielberg’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, which had become the highest-grossing film in history as well as a critically-acclaimed masterpiece. But there was also Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi, also adored by critics and, with its three-hour-bio-epic structure, was just the kind of film that typically wins these awards.
But there’s more. There was the Dustin Hoffman-Sydney Pollack tour de force known as Tootsie. There was the Sidney Lumet-David Mamet-Paul Newman classic The Verdict. And there was the intense drama Missing, featuring Jack Lemmon and Sissy Spacek tearing up the screen.
These five nominees weren’t even the only ones labeled “classic” in 1982. Among those films not nominated for Best Picture: the Meryl Streep tragedy Sophie’s Choice, the Ridley Scott cult hit Blade Runner, the Richard Gere-Debra Winger drama An Officer and a Gentleman, and the highly-decorated German film Das Boot.
It was an unbelievable year for movies, with cinema soaring to a supremely high level. You can argue that any of the nominees from 1982 would have taken the Best Picture prize in 1985, when Out of Africa bested The Color Purple, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Prizzi’s Honor and Witness for the top trophy. But sometimes, a lot of cream rises to the top at once.
This takes us to our baseball connection. In 2010, the American League East Division has taken a 1982 Oscar bent. The New York Yankees lead the division with the best record in baseball, followed by the Tampa Bay Rays who at one game back sport the second-best record in the game. In third place, the Boston Red Sox sit 16 games over .500 and would be leading the American League West Division by one game were they in that group. Instead, Boston sits 6½ games behind the Yankees in the division and 5½ games behind the Rays in the Wild Card hunt. In fourth place, the Toronto Blue Jays remain six games over .500 and would be just five games back in the Wild Card race were they in the National League. But alas, they are in the AL East, and are therefore 11½ games behind the Yankees in the division and 10½ games behind the Rays for the Wild Card. In last place, we have the Baltimore Orioles, who would be in the cellar in nearly every division. But there’s got to be at least one punching bag in a division this strong.
There will be room for only two of these teams in the playoffs, as the American League’s Wild Card entry surely will come from here. There are a lot of games to play before it’s over, many of them pitting the divisional rivals against one another. Tampa Bay centerfielder B.J. Upton has begun to heat up, as he often does this time of year, and he’s certainly looking to help his young Rays defeat the mighty Yankees for the division title and, if needed, during the playoffs as well. But the Red Sox and Blue Jays aren’t done yet, either, and the Orioles under new manager Buck Showalter are ready to play the role of spoiler.
The baseball analysts will probably tell you to expect this year’s division winner to come from the South Bronx. They’ll tell you that the Yankees are just too strong a team to lose this year. And they may be right. But you never know. The experts can be wrong.
There were a lot of people thinking in 1982 that E.T. would win it all, with its blockbuster status and its heartwarming ending. But this was not to be. It was the year of Gandhi, as the film took top honors, as did Best Actor winner Ben Kingsley.
E.T. is, of course, the most enduring film of these 1982 classics, as it is rented, bought and watched far more than the others. But if even E.T. can go down in the Best Picture race, why can’t the mighty Yankees fall as well? It’s enough to keep B.J. and his boys playing their hardest, night after night. The cream has risen, and it’s about to overflow.
Day One Hundred Twenty: B.J. Upton, Tampa Bay Rays
We’re going to make a baseball-to-movies analogy here, and it manages to connect E.T. to B.J. Let’s start with the films.
In 1982, the Oscar nominees for Best Picture were so outstanding that Academy Award voters had an incredible challenge on their hands. The most notable nominee was Steven Spielberg’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, which had become the highest-grossing film in history as well as a critically-acclaimed masterpiece. But there was also Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi, also adored by critics and, with its three-hour-bio-epic structure, was just the kind of film that typically wins these awards.
But there’s more. There was the Dustin Hoffman-Sydney Pollack tour de force known as Tootsie. There was the Sidney Lumet-David Mamet-Paul Newman classic The Verdict. And there was the intense drama Missing, featuring Jack Lemmon and Sissy Spacek tearing up the screen.
These five nominees weren’t even the only ones labeled “classic” in 1982. Among those films not nominated for Best Picture: the Meryl Streep tragedy Sophie’s Choice, the Ridley Scott cult hit Blade Runner, the Richard Gere-Debra Winger drama An Officer and a Gentleman, and the highly-decorated German film Das Boot.
It was an unbelievable year for movies, with cinema soaring to a supremely high level. You can argue that any of the nominees from 1982 would have taken the Best Picture prize in 1985, when Out of Africa bested The Color Purple, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Prizzi’s Honor and Witness for the top trophy. But sometimes, a lot of cream rises to the top at once.
This takes us to our baseball connection. In 2010, the American League East Division has taken a 1982 Oscar bent. The New York Yankees lead the division with the best record in baseball, followed by the Tampa Bay Rays who at one game back sport the second-best record in the game. In third place, the Boston Red Sox sit 16 games over .500 and would be leading the American League West Division by one game were they in that group. Instead, Boston sits 6½ games behind the Yankees in the division and 5½ games behind the Rays in the Wild Card hunt. In fourth place, the Toronto Blue Jays remain six games over .500 and would be just five games back in the Wild Card race were they in the National League. But alas, they are in the AL East, and are therefore 11½ games behind the Yankees in the division and 10½ games behind the Rays for the Wild Card. In last place, we have the Baltimore Orioles, who would be in the cellar in nearly every division. But there’s got to be at least one punching bag in a division this strong.
There will be room for only two of these teams in the playoffs, as the American League’s Wild Card entry surely will come from here. There are a lot of games to play before it’s over, many of them pitting the divisional rivals against one another. Tampa Bay centerfielder B.J. Upton has begun to heat up, as he often does this time of year, and he’s certainly looking to help his young Rays defeat the mighty Yankees for the division title and, if needed, during the playoffs as well. But the Red Sox and Blue Jays aren’t done yet, either, and the Orioles under new manager Buck Showalter are ready to play the role of spoiler.
The baseball analysts will probably tell you to expect this year’s division winner to come from the South Bronx. They’ll tell you that the Yankees are just too strong a team to lose this year. And they may be right. But you never know. The experts can be wrong.
There were a lot of people thinking in 1982 that E.T. would win it all, with its blockbuster status and its heartwarming ending. But this was not to be. It was the year of Gandhi, as the film took top honors, as did Best Actor winner Ben Kingsley.
E.T. is, of course, the most enduring film of these 1982 classics, as it is rented, bought and watched far more than the others. But if even E.T. can go down in the Best Picture race, why can’t the mighty Yankees fall as well? It’s enough to keep B.J. and his boys playing their hardest, night after night. The cream has risen, and it’s about to overflow.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Seeking Stability (One Sixty-Two: Day 108)
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-Eight: Brett Wallace, Houston Astros
Summer can make it tough to remember just what home feels like. Between vacations, weekends away and day trips, many of us spend more time outside our house this time of year than we do inside it. While this can be a lot of fun, it also can be a bit disorienting at times. As much as we might hate to admit it, there’s a part of us that looks forward to the return of September routines, and the comfort of our own bed.
Brett Wallace doesn’t care so much about summer versus September. He’s just looking for someplace to call home, period. Since he was selected with the 13th pick of the amateur draft two years ago, Wallace has done nothing but slug home runs in the minor leagues. And yet, he has been traded three times: from the St. Louis Cardinals to the Oakland Athletics, then from the A’s to the Toronto Blue Jays, and finally from Toronto to the Houston Astros just a few days ago. I haven’t followed Wallace’s minor-league career closely, but his stats show a corner infielder who makes some errors but hits a ton. Sounds like a solid prospect to me. Indeed, Baseball America rated Wallace the 27th-best prospect in baseball this spring.
So the Houston Astros, after acquiring a very talented 19-year-old center fielder from the Philadelphia Phillies last week, shipped this youngster off to Toronto in exchange for Wallace. After then trading first baseman Lance Berkman to the Yankees, the Astros gave Wallace the call he’d been waiting for: He was headed from Triple-A to the big leagues.
It’s only been a week, but Wallace has six hits so far, he’s driven in a few runs, and he hasn’t made any errors yet. Things are looking promising for the kid.
Most importantly, Brett Wallace seems to know where home is now. There are no rumors of impending trades, as the Astros are looking for solid young players to help them rebuild. If Wallace keeps hitting, the Astros will be happy to pencil him in as their starting first baseman next year. And that means he might even be able to sign a one-year lease on an apartment in Houston.
Stability, Mr. Wallace, may finally be arriving. And we’re not even in September.
Day One Hundred-Eight: Brett Wallace, Houston Astros
Summer can make it tough to remember just what home feels like. Between vacations, weekends away and day trips, many of us spend more time outside our house this time of year than we do inside it. While this can be a lot of fun, it also can be a bit disorienting at times. As much as we might hate to admit it, there’s a part of us that looks forward to the return of September routines, and the comfort of our own bed.
Brett Wallace doesn’t care so much about summer versus September. He’s just looking for someplace to call home, period. Since he was selected with the 13th pick of the amateur draft two years ago, Wallace has done nothing but slug home runs in the minor leagues. And yet, he has been traded three times: from the St. Louis Cardinals to the Oakland Athletics, then from the A’s to the Toronto Blue Jays, and finally from Toronto to the Houston Astros just a few days ago. I haven’t followed Wallace’s minor-league career closely, but his stats show a corner infielder who makes some errors but hits a ton. Sounds like a solid prospect to me. Indeed, Baseball America rated Wallace the 27th-best prospect in baseball this spring.
So the Houston Astros, after acquiring a very talented 19-year-old center fielder from the Philadelphia Phillies last week, shipped this youngster off to Toronto in exchange for Wallace. After then trading first baseman Lance Berkman to the Yankees, the Astros gave Wallace the call he’d been waiting for: He was headed from Triple-A to the big leagues.
It’s only been a week, but Wallace has six hits so far, he’s driven in a few runs, and he hasn’t made any errors yet. Things are looking promising for the kid.
Most importantly, Brett Wallace seems to know where home is now. There are no rumors of impending trades, as the Astros are looking for solid young players to help them rebuild. If Wallace keeps hitting, the Astros will be happy to pencil him in as their starting first baseman next year. And that means he might even be able to sign a one-year lease on an apartment in Houston.
Stability, Mr. Wallace, may finally be arriving. And we’re not even in September.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Rapid Force (One Sixty-Two: Day 103)
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-Three: Kevin Gregg, Toronto Blue Jays
“Daddy, I have a new favorite word,” Katie said yesterday.
“What’s that, Sweetie?” I asked my 8-year-old.
“Rapid force,” she said. I write it as two words, but perhaps Katie envisioned this as one really cool word: Rapid-force, with an artful hyphen, or even the more direct Rapidforce.
Caught by surprise, I asked where she’d gotten this phrase. She shrugged. My wife said that Katie had started using the word earlier in the day to describe the waves that had tossed her body and hair around the beach. She had loved the bodysurfing and boogie-boarding, and she seems to be developing a healthy respect for the ocean. This, of course, means playing with the rapid force without straying too far from the shore.
So it was a powerful day, one that left an 8-year-old content yet exhausted by day’s end. As Katie settled off to sleep, the Toronto Blue Jays’ Kevin Gregg was delivering his own brand of rapid force to the New York Yankees. There are 30 men appointed to the job of “closer” on Opening Day of each big-league season, and at least one-third of those men lose their jobs at some point over the 162-game slate. Kevin Gregg has taken over the closer’s job in the midst of a season twice – once in 2007, with the Florida Marlins, and again this year with the Blue Jays. For a man who was used solely as a middle reliever in his first four seasons with the Los Angeles Angels, Gregg’s 108 saves over the past four years is quite impressive.
Gregg stands on the pitcher’s mound wearing tight-fitting sports goggles, which make his demeanor all the more menacing atop 10 inches of dirt. His pitches aren’t the fastest in baseball, but they have traveled quickly enough to land him 481 strikeouts in just over 500 innings of career work. Last night, Gregg notched his 24th save of the season despite allowing one run.
Inside Yankee Stadium, the New York fans tried to will their team past Gregg with waves of vocal support. But the power of those pinstripe-clad swingers was not equal to the rapid force of the man in goggles. The Yankees had washed ashore, and Gregg made sure they stayed there.
Day One Hundred-Three: Kevin Gregg, Toronto Blue Jays
“Daddy, I have a new favorite word,” Katie said yesterday.
“What’s that, Sweetie?” I asked my 8-year-old.
“Rapid force,” she said. I write it as two words, but perhaps Katie envisioned this as one really cool word: Rapid-force, with an artful hyphen, or even the more direct Rapidforce.
Caught by surprise, I asked where she’d gotten this phrase. She shrugged. My wife said that Katie had started using the word earlier in the day to describe the waves that had tossed her body and hair around the beach. She had loved the bodysurfing and boogie-boarding, and she seems to be developing a healthy respect for the ocean. This, of course, means playing with the rapid force without straying too far from the shore.
So it was a powerful day, one that left an 8-year-old content yet exhausted by day’s end. As Katie settled off to sleep, the Toronto Blue Jays’ Kevin Gregg was delivering his own brand of rapid force to the New York Yankees. There are 30 men appointed to the job of “closer” on Opening Day of each big-league season, and at least one-third of those men lose their jobs at some point over the 162-game slate. Kevin Gregg has taken over the closer’s job in the midst of a season twice – once in 2007, with the Florida Marlins, and again this year with the Blue Jays. For a man who was used solely as a middle reliever in his first four seasons with the Los Angeles Angels, Gregg’s 108 saves over the past four years is quite impressive.
Gregg stands on the pitcher’s mound wearing tight-fitting sports goggles, which make his demeanor all the more menacing atop 10 inches of dirt. His pitches aren’t the fastest in baseball, but they have traveled quickly enough to land him 481 strikeouts in just over 500 innings of career work. Last night, Gregg notched his 24th save of the season despite allowing one run.
Inside Yankee Stadium, the New York fans tried to will their team past Gregg with waves of vocal support. But the power of those pinstripe-clad swingers was not equal to the rapid force of the man in goggles. The Yankees had washed ashore, and Gregg made sure they stayed there.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Second Halves (One Sixty-Two: Day 84)
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 Eighty-Four: Adam Lind, Toronto Blue Jays
As I inch ever closer to age 40, it has come to my attention that I may be in the All-Star Break of my life. That is, the first half of my own season may be in the books, with a second half just getting under way. It’s kind of a frightening prospect, but one that I can’t deny. After all, the average life expectancy for American males is 75, and I have definitely passed the halfway point toward that number.
As my generation chugs into its collective All-Star Break, I see and hear a lot of folks taking stock of their past – attending reunions, playing their favorite ‘80s pop songs, and spending time with family. But conspicuous as the gray hairs may be for some of us, this is no time to despair over the passing of time. The season is long, and second halves can be even better than the first.
Take Rosa Parks, for instance. She was 42 when she changed the world, then spent the next 50 years furthering the movement she’d helped to start. Or how about Frank McCourt: Rather than kicking back after retiring from a fabulous teaching career, McCourt won a Pulitzer Prize for Angela’s Ashes at age 67. Morgan Freeman was an actor best known for theater, a soap opera and a kids’ show until he picked up an Oscar nomination for Driving Miss Daisy at age 52; he earned his most recent nomination last year, at 73. And Joe Torre had an excellent, if not Hall-of-Fame-worthy playing career until he took a job managing the New York Yankees at age 56. Fourteen years, four championships and 13 playoff appearances later, Torre is a sure-fire Hall of Famer now.
Second halves can make all the difference. In the smaller time frame of a baseball season, some players post extraordinary first-half numbers, only to fade in the dog days of summer. Others struggle in the first half, only to kick their games into another gear as summer begins its second month.
Adam Lind turned the baseball world on its head last year. He had known modest success as a part-time player from 2006-08, delivering a total of 22 homers and 94 runs batted in over that time frame. Last year, in his first season as a full-time player for the Blue Jays, Lind became one of the American League’s premier hitters: He hit 35 home runs, drove in 114 runs, and posted a .305 batting average. Few people saw it coming, but everyone took note of Lind’s tremendous improvement.
This season, however, has been a different story. After 86 games, Lind is hitting just .214, with 12 homers and 40 RBI. Lind is on his way to one of the highest strikeout totals in major-league history. And yet, Toronto’s manager, Cito Gaston, keeps putting the left-handed designated hitter into his lineup each day. This shows confidence, and I’m sure it means a lot to Lind. As the second half of the 2010 season begins, Adam Lind is clearly looking for a return to last year’s success.
It’s a long season, and sometimes three or four days off in the middle of July can make all the difference. Players clear their heads, rest their aches and pains, and get some sleep in their own beds. They return to the diamond feeling new again, and they look to the second half with optimism. In some cases, they do deliver tremendous second halves, and all of those early woes are forgotten.
Adam Lind is looking for that kind of change as he gets re-started tomorrow. And on Saturday, Lind turns 27 – still well into his own life’s first half, one would hope. But for the game he plays for a living, Lind is looking to pull a Frank McCourt, a Morgan Freeman, and a Joe Torre all in one. There’s plenty of time to craft a second half to remember. Now’s the time to start.
Day Eighty-Four: Adam Lind, Toronto Blue Jays
As I inch ever closer to age 40, it has come to my attention that I may be in the All-Star Break of my life. That is, the first half of my own season may be in the books, with a second half just getting under way. It’s kind of a frightening prospect, but one that I can’t deny. After all, the average life expectancy for American males is 75, and I have definitely passed the halfway point toward that number.
As my generation chugs into its collective All-Star Break, I see and hear a lot of folks taking stock of their past – attending reunions, playing their favorite ‘80s pop songs, and spending time with family. But conspicuous as the gray hairs may be for some of us, this is no time to despair over the passing of time. The season is long, and second halves can be even better than the first.
Take Rosa Parks, for instance. She was 42 when she changed the world, then spent the next 50 years furthering the movement she’d helped to start. Or how about Frank McCourt: Rather than kicking back after retiring from a fabulous teaching career, McCourt won a Pulitzer Prize for Angela’s Ashes at age 67. Morgan Freeman was an actor best known for theater, a soap opera and a kids’ show until he picked up an Oscar nomination for Driving Miss Daisy at age 52; he earned his most recent nomination last year, at 73. And Joe Torre had an excellent, if not Hall-of-Fame-worthy playing career until he took a job managing the New York Yankees at age 56. Fourteen years, four championships and 13 playoff appearances later, Torre is a sure-fire Hall of Famer now.
Second halves can make all the difference. In the smaller time frame of a baseball season, some players post extraordinary first-half numbers, only to fade in the dog days of summer. Others struggle in the first half, only to kick their games into another gear as summer begins its second month.
Adam Lind turned the baseball world on its head last year. He had known modest success as a part-time player from 2006-08, delivering a total of 22 homers and 94 runs batted in over that time frame. Last year, in his first season as a full-time player for the Blue Jays, Lind became one of the American League’s premier hitters: He hit 35 home runs, drove in 114 runs, and posted a .305 batting average. Few people saw it coming, but everyone took note of Lind’s tremendous improvement.
This season, however, has been a different story. After 86 games, Lind is hitting just .214, with 12 homers and 40 RBI. Lind is on his way to one of the highest strikeout totals in major-league history. And yet, Toronto’s manager, Cito Gaston, keeps putting the left-handed designated hitter into his lineup each day. This shows confidence, and I’m sure it means a lot to Lind. As the second half of the 2010 season begins, Adam Lind is clearly looking for a return to last year’s success.
It’s a long season, and sometimes three or four days off in the middle of July can make all the difference. Players clear their heads, rest their aches and pains, and get some sleep in their own beds. They return to the diamond feeling new again, and they look to the second half with optimism. In some cases, they do deliver tremendous second halves, and all of those early woes are forgotten.
Adam Lind is looking for that kind of change as he gets re-started tomorrow. And on Saturday, Lind turns 27 – still well into his own life’s first half, one would hope. But for the game he plays for a living, Lind is looking to pull a Frank McCourt, a Morgan Freeman, and a Joe Torre all in one. There’s plenty of time to craft a second half to remember. Now’s the time to start.
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.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Carnival Hero (One Sixty-Two: Day 45)
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 Forty-Five: Alex Rios, Chicago White Sox
After playing outside in the heat for a while, the girls realized it was time to cool down in the air-conditioning. As they glanced around the living room, they huddled up and decided to re-create the carnival they’d attended at Katie’s school on Friday. So, within 20 minutes’ time, the room was filled with games of chance and skill.
I was handed 10 dominoes and told that these were my tickets. I was escorted through each of the games, which were set up on end tables and chairs throughout the room. I tossed a ball at stuffed animals to knock them down, I flipped Littlest Pets into plastic drinking cups, and I guessed which cup the ponytail-holder was hidden beneath. The games kept coming, and I kept trying to win some of the toys lined up beneath the homemade sign. It was simple sign, and it read: “Prizzes.”
Don’t we all aspire to win a few prizzes. In baseball, they give out plenty, including a lesser-publicized prize known as the Comeback Player of the Year Award. It may not carry the cachet of an MVP or a Cy Young award, but it means an awful lot to those who win it. What the award says is that you got your game together again, and returned to the level of excellence you had attained at an earlier time in your career.
Alex Rios is 29 years old, with plenty of baseball left in him. But in 2007, it appeared that Rios would soon become one of the best all-around players in the game. Rios hit .297, smacked 24 homers, drove in 85 runs and stole 17 bases three years ago. As the Toronto Blue Jays mapped out their future, they centered it around Rios.
But then the production dropped. In both 2008 and ’09, Rios hit fewer home runs, drove in fewer runs, and watched his batting average dive down. Finally, Toronto traded him to the Chicago White Sox to clear his salary off of their books. So as 2010 began, Rios had something to prove in Chicago.
And my, has he come back. One-third of the way through the season, Rios already has hit 12 home runs, driven in 29 runs, stolen 17 bases and posted a .318 batting average. Better yet, Rios has cut down on the strikeouts and increased his number of walks. Although his team is struggling, Rios has shown the White Sox that they made a very smart move in trading for him. Chicago, like Toronto three years ago, can build its future around this 6-foot-5, right-handed slugger.
If he keeps this up, Rios will have a Comeback Player of the Year Award in his living room this fall. But at the pace he’s producing, that won’t be the only honor he gets. When you hit like this, there’s no telling how many prizzes you’ll get. The carnival lasts a long time for players like this.
Day Forty-Five: Alex Rios, Chicago White Sox
After playing outside in the heat for a while, the girls realized it was time to cool down in the air-conditioning. As they glanced around the living room, they huddled up and decided to re-create the carnival they’d attended at Katie’s school on Friday. So, within 20 minutes’ time, the room was filled with games of chance and skill.
I was handed 10 dominoes and told that these were my tickets. I was escorted through each of the games, which were set up on end tables and chairs throughout the room. I tossed a ball at stuffed animals to knock them down, I flipped Littlest Pets into plastic drinking cups, and I guessed which cup the ponytail-holder was hidden beneath. The games kept coming, and I kept trying to win some of the toys lined up beneath the homemade sign. It was simple sign, and it read: “Prizzes.”
Don’t we all aspire to win a few prizzes. In baseball, they give out plenty, including a lesser-publicized prize known as the Comeback Player of the Year Award. It may not carry the cachet of an MVP or a Cy Young award, but it means an awful lot to those who win it. What the award says is that you got your game together again, and returned to the level of excellence you had attained at an earlier time in your career.
Alex Rios is 29 years old, with plenty of baseball left in him. But in 2007, it appeared that Rios would soon become one of the best all-around players in the game. Rios hit .297, smacked 24 homers, drove in 85 runs and stole 17 bases three years ago. As the Toronto Blue Jays mapped out their future, they centered it around Rios.
But then the production dropped. In both 2008 and ’09, Rios hit fewer home runs, drove in fewer runs, and watched his batting average dive down. Finally, Toronto traded him to the Chicago White Sox to clear his salary off of their books. So as 2010 began, Rios had something to prove in Chicago.
And my, has he come back. One-third of the way through the season, Rios already has hit 12 home runs, driven in 29 runs, stolen 17 bases and posted a .318 batting average. Better yet, Rios has cut down on the strikeouts and increased his number of walks. Although his team is struggling, Rios has shown the White Sox that they made a very smart move in trading for him. Chicago, like Toronto three years ago, can build its future around this 6-foot-5, right-handed slugger.
If he keeps this up, Rios will have a Comeback Player of the Year Award in his living room this fall. But at the pace he’s producing, that won’t be the only honor he gets. When you hit like this, there’s no telling how many prizzes you’ll get. The carnival lasts a long time for players like this.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
A Trusty Rabbit's Foot (One Sixty-Two: Day 27)
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-Seven: Eric Hinske, Atlanta Braves
For some, it’s a beaded bracelet. For others, it’s a necklace. Still others choose a keychain. And, yes, some still carry a trusty rabbit’s foot.
Good-luck charms. We can say we’re not superstitious, but in the end we know we are. We allow little rituals and possessions to remain in our lives as comforts of sorts – a reminder that despite the twists and turns of life, there are some things that remain the same. And if we hold onto them tightly enough, we might just make it through to the other side.
Baseball has more superstitions than you can possibly list. From jumping over foul lines to spitting on batting gloves to taking a certain number of practice swings at the plate, ballplayers will do anything to lure a little luck their way. Right now, though, the most prominent good-luck charm in baseball is not a thing, but a person. His name is Eric Hinske, and he plays infield and outfield for the Atlanta Braves.
After winning the Rookie of the Year award with the Blue Jays in 2002, Hinske played a few more seasons with Toronto before he was traded to the Boston Red Sox in 2006. The following season, he served as a valuable bench player on a world-champion Red Sox team. In 2008, Hinske found himself on the Tampa Bay Rays, a team that had never made the playoffs in its history. But by October, Hinske was again in the World Series, where the American League-champion Rays fell to the Philadelphia Phillies.
Last year, after starting out with the Pittsburgh Pirates, Hinske was traded in mid-season to the Yankees. Once again playing a vital role off the bench, Hinske helped New York claim another world title. Now 32 years of age, the man has been on a roll. And he’s got rings to show for it.
In 2010, the Atlanta Braves are playing mediocre baseball. They certainly have some talent, and could make a move toward the playoff picture. But if they don’t, the Braves will surely trade Hinske in July. They’ll send him off to a contender in need of pop off the bench, and they’ll receive a minor-league prospect in return.
If that happens, then whichever team trades for Hinske will immediately feel lucky. The coaches and front-office staff will know that they have acquired the official Major League Baseball rabbit’s foot. Hinske’s teammates will treat him like a king, and will keep him as happy and healthy as possible. You don’t mess with good-luck charms; you just hold on tight, and send them up to pinch-hit.
Day Twenty-Seven: Eric Hinske, Atlanta Braves
For some, it’s a beaded bracelet. For others, it’s a necklace. Still others choose a keychain. And, yes, some still carry a trusty rabbit’s foot.
Good-luck charms. We can say we’re not superstitious, but in the end we know we are. We allow little rituals and possessions to remain in our lives as comforts of sorts – a reminder that despite the twists and turns of life, there are some things that remain the same. And if we hold onto them tightly enough, we might just make it through to the other side.
Baseball has more superstitions than you can possibly list. From jumping over foul lines to spitting on batting gloves to taking a certain number of practice swings at the plate, ballplayers will do anything to lure a little luck their way. Right now, though, the most prominent good-luck charm in baseball is not a thing, but a person. His name is Eric Hinske, and he plays infield and outfield for the Atlanta Braves.
After winning the Rookie of the Year award with the Blue Jays in 2002, Hinske played a few more seasons with Toronto before he was traded to the Boston Red Sox in 2006. The following season, he served as a valuable bench player on a world-champion Red Sox team. In 2008, Hinske found himself on the Tampa Bay Rays, a team that had never made the playoffs in its history. But by October, Hinske was again in the World Series, where the American League-champion Rays fell to the Philadelphia Phillies.
Last year, after starting out with the Pittsburgh Pirates, Hinske was traded in mid-season to the Yankees. Once again playing a vital role off the bench, Hinske helped New York claim another world title. Now 32 years of age, the man has been on a roll. And he’s got rings to show for it.
In 2010, the Atlanta Braves are playing mediocre baseball. They certainly have some talent, and could make a move toward the playoff picture. But if they don’t, the Braves will surely trade Hinske in July. They’ll send him off to a contender in need of pop off the bench, and they’ll receive a minor-league prospect in return.
If that happens, then whichever team trades for Hinske will immediately feel lucky. The coaches and front-office staff will know that they have acquired the official Major League Baseball rabbit’s foot. Hinske’s teammates will treat him like a king, and will keep him as happy and healthy as possible. You don’t mess with good-luck charms; you just hold on tight, and send them up to pinch-hit.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
On Pitching & Pollen (One Sixty-Two: Day 21)
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-One: Brandon Morrow, Toronto Blue Jays
Last spring, I mowed the lawn three times with the gas-powered Honda mower I’d been using for years. All three times, I awoke the next day with an allergy explosion in my head. This spring, Katie embraced the beautiful weather that mid-April brought, only to end up in the house for several days of nebulizer treatments. Chelsea goes out to play in the yard with the dog each day, then comes in and sneezes through a tissue box. For Amy, the process is simple: Breathe in pollen, sneeze, feel mucus settle into sinuses, then drive to doctor for antibiotic.
Spring is, for many of us, the most beautiful sensory season. And yet, it’s also the most difficult season for many in terms of health. As the pollen swirls around us, we wonder how something so lovely can be so frustrating at the same time. Should we go outside or not? Such is the quandary of spring for the allergy sufferer.
We long for some consistency, some stability, to this season. In the world of baseball, there are teams across the country looking for stability as well. From allergies, sure. But more than that, from pitchers. Nearly every team can tell you about a guy who has all the tools to throw incredibly well, yet can’t seem to put it together. He’s like the spring weather – he looks so good, but toss in a little pollen and he’s making you sick. For this kind of pitcher, the pollen takes the form of bases on balls, or poorly placed pitches, or mental struggles that leave him battling himself on the mound, rather than his opponent.
Brandon Morrow is 25 years old, 6-foot-3, and blessed with a thunderbolt for a right arm. He can strike out anyone, at any time. He was drafted with the fifth overall pick in the 2006 amateur draft, and he has experienced high expectations every day for the past four years. And while he’s wowed them with the strikeouts, Morrow has amazed baseball watchers with his wildness.
In 232 innings pitched so far in the majors, Morrow has struck out 250 batters. That’s tremendous. But he’s also walked 154 hitters, culminating in Monday’s debacle in which he walked six Red Sox hitters before leaving the game in the second inning of a game his team would lose. Of course, Morrow also struck out four Boston hitters, and he only gave up three hits. But the hits will hurt you badly if you give free passes to six other guys.
When Morrow throws a heater past the man at bat, it’s a thing of beauty to see. But far too often, the beauty ends up turning into a beast as those deliveries sail far and wide. Something has to change; perhaps a look back at the basics of his windup.
I’ve gone back to basics as well. After spending a week in the house with an allergy-induced sinus infection last June, I gave up on mowers with engines. I dropped the Honda off with friends who’d just moved to Jersey from the city, and purchased an old-school, blade-rotating reel mower. It doesn’t work that great, and the grass lacks that clean, crisp cut that it used to have. But this mower cuts the grass gently, so I don’t get allergy symptoms from mowing the lawn anymore. I’ve also gone back to allergy shots, to build up my immunity.
I’m trying to adjust so that I can enjoy the spring. It’s too wonderful to give up. In the same way, I hope that Brandon Morrow can find a way to work through the rough spots and blossom, once and for all.
Day Twenty-One: Brandon Morrow, Toronto Blue Jays
Last spring, I mowed the lawn three times with the gas-powered Honda mower I’d been using for years. All three times, I awoke the next day with an allergy explosion in my head. This spring, Katie embraced the beautiful weather that mid-April brought, only to end up in the house for several days of nebulizer treatments. Chelsea goes out to play in the yard with the dog each day, then comes in and sneezes through a tissue box. For Amy, the process is simple: Breathe in pollen, sneeze, feel mucus settle into sinuses, then drive to doctor for antibiotic.
Spring is, for many of us, the most beautiful sensory season. And yet, it’s also the most difficult season for many in terms of health. As the pollen swirls around us, we wonder how something so lovely can be so frustrating at the same time. Should we go outside or not? Such is the quandary of spring for the allergy sufferer.
We long for some consistency, some stability, to this season. In the world of baseball, there are teams across the country looking for stability as well. From allergies, sure. But more than that, from pitchers. Nearly every team can tell you about a guy who has all the tools to throw incredibly well, yet can’t seem to put it together. He’s like the spring weather – he looks so good, but toss in a little pollen and he’s making you sick. For this kind of pitcher, the pollen takes the form of bases on balls, or poorly placed pitches, or mental struggles that leave him battling himself on the mound, rather than his opponent.
Brandon Morrow is 25 years old, 6-foot-3, and blessed with a thunderbolt for a right arm. He can strike out anyone, at any time. He was drafted with the fifth overall pick in the 2006 amateur draft, and he has experienced high expectations every day for the past four years. And while he’s wowed them with the strikeouts, Morrow has amazed baseball watchers with his wildness.
In 232 innings pitched so far in the majors, Morrow has struck out 250 batters. That’s tremendous. But he’s also walked 154 hitters, culminating in Monday’s debacle in which he walked six Red Sox hitters before leaving the game in the second inning of a game his team would lose. Of course, Morrow also struck out four Boston hitters, and he only gave up three hits. But the hits will hurt you badly if you give free passes to six other guys.
When Morrow throws a heater past the man at bat, it’s a thing of beauty to see. But far too often, the beauty ends up turning into a beast as those deliveries sail far and wide. Something has to change; perhaps a look back at the basics of his windup.
I’ve gone back to basics as well. After spending a week in the house with an allergy-induced sinus infection last June, I gave up on mowers with engines. I dropped the Honda off with friends who’d just moved to Jersey from the city, and purchased an old-school, blade-rotating reel mower. It doesn’t work that great, and the grass lacks that clean, crisp cut that it used to have. But this mower cuts the grass gently, so I don’t get allergy symptoms from mowing the lawn anymore. I’ve also gone back to allergy shots, to build up my immunity.
I’m trying to adjust so that I can enjoy the spring. It’s too wonderful to give up. In the same way, I hope that Brandon Morrow can find a way to work through the rough spots and blossom, once and for all.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
October 1993
It was the fall of ’93, and I was busy typing up resumes and cover letters in my parents’ basement as my stereo pumped out the music of Pearl Jam and Nirvana. I had just graduated from college, and was hungrily looking for my first newspaper job. With our country crawling out of a recession, I was casting a wide net, firing out resumes to papers in every mid- and major-size city in America, as well as to papers in Ireland, England and Canada. It was a time of anticipation and hope for a 22-year-old. While doing all this, I had half an eye on the TV screen, where the Chicago White Sox were playing the Toronto Blue Jays in the American League Championship Series, and the Philadelphia Phillies were taking on the Atlanta Braves for the National League pennant. Bo Jackson was challenging his White Sox teammates to bring their games to a higher level, while the Phils’ Curt Schilling was pitching like a man who knew what the postseason was all about.
I’ve been thinking of that period, 15 years ago, as I reflect on the impending reality that 2008 will mark the first autumn since’93 that Major League Baseball is holding a postseason and the Yankees are not a part of it. Like any baseball fan, I’m disappointed that my favorite team doesn’t seem to have enough muscle to push their way into the playoffs. And yet, as I think back on 1993, I remember surviving that year just fine. So as I think ahead to next month, I also see much room for personal fulfillment even without a Yankee playoff game.
As a baseball fan, I’m eager to see young teams like the Brewers, Twins, Rays, Diamondbacks and Cubs vie for a playoff spot and a title. As a Yankee fan, I’m looking forward to watching the team unload some of the high salaries and re-tool. And I must say, some of the New York playoff rituals were getting a bit tiresome – the Irish tenor singing “God Bless America,” Rudy Giuliani clapping from his seat behind home plate, the Joe Torre investment commercials, even – dare I say it – the Jeter fist-pump.
When I think back to ’93 and the Yankees, I remember that being a year in which the team’s future started to unveil itself. We realized that year that it wouldn’t be long before New York returned to the playoffs for the first time since ’81, as the superb young players they’d grown from within had actually not been traded during George Steinbrenner’s two-year exile from baseball. The organization had realized that if you drafted great talent and nurtured it, you could be in pretty good shape once you added the right mix of veterans. In 1993, no Yankees player epitomized the future more than the guitar-playing center fielder, Bernie Williams.
Number 51 was still figuring out how to avoid pickoffs on the bases and when to lay off the breaking pitches at that time. But man, he could hit and run. And as time passed, we realized that this man possessed a brilliant combination of talent and class. He was the kind of player who could hit a walk-off home run in a tension-filled playoff game, then put his head down and run the bases without showing off the opposing team. He was a man who seemed to know that his intense passion on the field would only be maintained by having other interests (such as classical guitar) off the field. He never showed up the fans, and always maintained his cool under the hot lights.
As the Yankees close up their old ballpark and prepare for the new one, there has been no tribute to Bernie Williams. The old center fielder last played in the major leagues during the 2006 season and had a falling out with the team during spring training last year. Whatever was said during that time, the Yankees organization should be fully capable of moving beyond it and retiring No. 51 before the stadium closes. When a man helps his employer make billions of dollars with skill, effort and integrity, he deserves to be honored. When he’s not, the employer looks ungrateful.
Until I see No. 51 hanging up in left field with the other retired numbers, I won’t be too teary-eyed about the Yankees missing out on any playoff series. I’ll keep an eye on Ryan Braun, Alfonso Soriano, Evan Longoria and Chris Young, as they vie for a title. I’ll listen to my music – more Wilco and Beck these days than the grunge music of ’93. I’ll keep up my writing and my teaching. And life will indeed go on.
I’ve been thinking of that period, 15 years ago, as I reflect on the impending reality that 2008 will mark the first autumn since’93 that Major League Baseball is holding a postseason and the Yankees are not a part of it. Like any baseball fan, I’m disappointed that my favorite team doesn’t seem to have enough muscle to push their way into the playoffs. And yet, as I think back on 1993, I remember surviving that year just fine. So as I think ahead to next month, I also see much room for personal fulfillment even without a Yankee playoff game.
As a baseball fan, I’m eager to see young teams like the Brewers, Twins, Rays, Diamondbacks and Cubs vie for a playoff spot and a title. As a Yankee fan, I’m looking forward to watching the team unload some of the high salaries and re-tool. And I must say, some of the New York playoff rituals were getting a bit tiresome – the Irish tenor singing “God Bless America,” Rudy Giuliani clapping from his seat behind home plate, the Joe Torre investment commercials, even – dare I say it – the Jeter fist-pump.
When I think back to ’93 and the Yankees, I remember that being a year in which the team’s future started to unveil itself. We realized that year that it wouldn’t be long before New York returned to the playoffs for the first time since ’81, as the superb young players they’d grown from within had actually not been traded during George Steinbrenner’s two-year exile from baseball. The organization had realized that if you drafted great talent and nurtured it, you could be in pretty good shape once you added the right mix of veterans. In 1993, no Yankees player epitomized the future more than the guitar-playing center fielder, Bernie Williams.
Number 51 was still figuring out how to avoid pickoffs on the bases and when to lay off the breaking pitches at that time. But man, he could hit and run. And as time passed, we realized that this man possessed a brilliant combination of talent and class. He was the kind of player who could hit a walk-off home run in a tension-filled playoff game, then put his head down and run the bases without showing off the opposing team. He was a man who seemed to know that his intense passion on the field would only be maintained by having other interests (such as classical guitar) off the field. He never showed up the fans, and always maintained his cool under the hot lights.
As the Yankees close up their old ballpark and prepare for the new one, there has been no tribute to Bernie Williams. The old center fielder last played in the major leagues during the 2006 season and had a falling out with the team during spring training last year. Whatever was said during that time, the Yankees organization should be fully capable of moving beyond it and retiring No. 51 before the stadium closes. When a man helps his employer make billions of dollars with skill, effort and integrity, he deserves to be honored. When he’s not, the employer looks ungrateful.
Until I see No. 51 hanging up in left field with the other retired numbers, I won’t be too teary-eyed about the Yankees missing out on any playoff series. I’ll keep an eye on Ryan Braun, Alfonso Soriano, Evan Longoria and Chris Young, as they vie for a title. I’ll listen to my music – more Wilco and Beck these days than the grunge music of ’93. I’ll keep up my writing and my teaching. And life will indeed go on.
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