Back to School (One Sixty-Two: Day 118)

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 Eighteen: Neftali Feliz, Texas Rangers

Staples has spiral notebooks for a penny apiece. Target will give you a pack of Crayola crayons for a quarter. Office Depot has boxes of ballpoint pens for a buck apiece.

You can try and look the other way, especially if your kid doesn’t start for another few weeks, but facts are facts: It’s back-to-school time. In some parts of the country, Semester One is already in session. It’s always a shock to the system for students, teachers and administrators, but the start of a new school year does carry with it all kinds of promise for individual learning, personal growth and fellowship. There’s really nothing like it.

It’s a marathon of education, and you have to prepare yourself for the long road ahead. Once it starts, you’ll find yourself learning more than you thought possible, and it comes at you in all kinds of ways – from book learning to literary journeys to lessons in social skills. It doesn’t always feel like fun, but school takes hold of our minds and maturity levels in a way that is both exhilarating and exhausting. By the time June rolls around, we feel like different people.

Neftali Feliz is 22 years old, an age at which many young Americans are graduating from college. But Feliz is a little different from most of us in that he can throw a baseball 100 miles an hour. Therefore, he is not following the traditional path of education. At age 18, Feliz was pitching in the minor leagues rather than for a college team. By age 21, he was a Texas Ranger. In 2010, Feliz’s first full year in the majors, he has saved 29 games for the Rangers and earned his first All-Star Game appearance.

The Rangers are soaring toward their first postseason appearance in more than a decade. And in the playoffs, you don’t win a lot of games by 10 runs. You often find yourself holding on by a thread, and you turn to your closer to bail you out in the end. So if the Rangers are leading the mighty New York Yankees 4-3 in a first-round playoff game, will Feliz be able to hold the lead amid the pressure? Last week, in two close games against New York in Texas, he experienced two different outcomes: In the first game, he pitched two dominant innings to pick up the win in extra innings, while in the second game he blew a ninth-inning lead to take the loss.

It’s been a very good year so far for Neftali Feliz. But school is about to begin for real as the pennant race heats up. There are still some things that this gifted young man has to learn. The question, of course, is how quickly he’ll learn, adjust, and grow. There’s no sale at Staples to cover that; it comes from within.

Head Games (One Sixty-Two: Day 89)

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-Nine: Justin Morneau, Minnesota Twins

Two years ago, I had a month-long spell of headaches that wouldn’t go away. I went for tests, and everything came up clear. I would imagine it was either allergy- or stress-related, as it gradually dissipated.

Pain in any part of our body is no fun at all, but pain in the head can be particularly stressful. In recent years, doctors and athletes have taken a much closer look at the problem of concussions in sports. The National Football League, in particular, has done some serious soul-searching in addressing the number and severity of concussions its athletes sustain. High school athletic groups, too, have focused more intently on the injuries our teen-agers experience when they take blows to the head.

Over on the baseball diamond, Justin Morneau was having an MVP season with the Minnesota Twins as the All-Star break approached earlier this month. Morneau’s 18 home runs, 56 runs batted in and .345 batting average placed him alongside Detroit’s Miguel Cabrera and Texas’ Josh Hamilton in a three-man quest for baseball’s first Triple Crown in 43 years.

And then Morneau took a knee to the head during a ballgame on July 7 while trying to break up a double play. He was diagnosed with a concussion, hasn’t played since, and missed the All-Star Game completely. Published reports state that he’s resting, seeing a specialist, and not yet ready to play ball again.

One can only hope that Morneau recovers from this injury, and that he is back at the head of the Twins’ offense quite soon. As for the sports world in general, may researchers continue to look for ways to protect our athletes from severe head injuries. Collisions with balls, turf, walls or other athletes are violent ones, and they can impact lives. When doctors recommend a rule change here or a thicker helmet there, it’s time for everyone to line up in support. A healthier playing field is always a more progressive one.

New Stars (One Sixty-Two: Day 85)

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-Five: Evan Meek, Pittsburgh Pirates

For me, one of the coolest things about baseball’s All-Star Game is seeing a virtually unknown player announced during the pregame player introductions. At least once a year, a player comes out of nowhere to produce a great first half and earn a spot on either the National League or American League team. As a result, that young man earns the right to line up, tip his cap, and stand alongside superstars.

When I was younger, I collected the entire set of each year’s Topps baseball cards, as well as the free Yankees cards I got at Burger King. Still, I didn’t know every player – and even if I’d heard of the player’s name and seen his baseball card photo, I might not have watched him play on the field before. So in 1981, for instance, when Cleveland Indians catcher Bo Diaz suited up for the All-Star Game, he was a newcomer to me as well as to most of America. Same for Jim Presley, the Seattle Mariners third baseman who earned a spot in 1986. And Mike Sharperson, the Los Angeles Dodgers second baseman who was named in 1992. And Lance Carter, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays relief pitcher, who was an All-Star in 2003.

This year, the out-of-nowhere award goes to Pirates reliever Evan Meek. I had first heard of Meek a few weeks ago, when the fantasy-baseball sites started crowing about his great work as a middle reliever. But I’ve never seen him pitch. This is Meek’s second full year in the majors, and thus far in 2010 he has a 1.11 earned-run average in 40 games pitched, to go with nearly a strikeout per inning. After years in the minor leagues, the guy has dazzled this season for a losing team, and it did not go unnoticed.

So when he stepped forward during the All-Star introductions to tip his cap, Meek was this year’s unknown. At 6 feet tall and 225 pounds, he looked like a man who had built up strong legs in order to power himself off the pitching rubber. Unfortunately, no one got to see Meek pitch on Tuesday, as he was not used in the game. But if he keeps it up, perhaps Meek will be back for another try next July.

I’ll be keeping my eyes out for a chance to spot Meek on the mound, maybe during some baseball highlights or perhaps even in a televised Pirates game. Until then, I’ll add Evan Meek to the list of ballplayers who got that unexpected chance to step into baseball’s midsummer spotlight. He tipped his cap, smiled for the fans, and stood shoulder to shoulder with the greatest baseball players in the world. It’s not a bad way to spend a summer’s night. Not bad at all.

All-Stars Among Us (One Sixty-Two: Day 83)

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-Three: Brian McCann, Atlanta Braves

One of the first great lessons my parents taught me grew out of their friendship with George and Maurice. These two men, both my parents’ age, were over our house all the time – for birthdays, holidays, and regular days – and it was clear that they were extremely close with my parents. George, after all, was my godfather, while Maurice was my brother’s godfather. In addition to being two of the most grounded individuals I know, George and Maurice also are two of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met. My parents’ friendship with them stretched back to their days at Curtis High School on Staten Island, and I could see, even as a kid, that their bonds would stretch on into forever.

So the lesson I learned here was that my own interpretation of family need not be restricted to blood ties. If your relationship with a friend was so close that they knew what you were thinking before you said a word, that person was not merely a friend. He was your brother, your cousin, your uncle. Your family. And so it has been for my brother and me, as we’ve grown up with Uncle George, Uncle Reese (until he forced us, in our 20s, to call him Maurice) and numerous other uncles, aunts and cousins whom you will not find on our family tree.

In our own adulthood, my brother and I have adhered to this ideal, and it can be seen quite wonderfully in the ways in which my daughters now call some of our close friends “Uncle” and “Aunt.” The girls don’t question it, as they seem to understand the concept completely. This was evident again this past weekend, when they spent time with their Uncle Neil and Aunt Siobhan.

Neil was my brother’s best friend in high school, and has remained his closest friend throughout Eric’s life. As I came to understand what a remarkably compassionate and considerate individual Neil was, I was able to develop a very strong friendship with him as well. He is my younger daughter’s godfather, and he chose to marry an equally loving woman who, like him, finds limitless ways to reach out to her “family” every day. As Neil and Siobhan have grown together, they’ve become the rock around which their own families revolve. They are constantly there for their parents, siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins. Their umbrella of family extends far and wide, encompassing friends from high school, college, law school and work. They are the ones who get the calls from loved ones in need of help, or a listening ear, or advice. This can be a considerable weight to carry, especially now that they have their own child. But I don’t think Neil and Siobhan would have it any other way. It’s simply who they are.

I thought of these two last night, while watching baseball’s All-Star Game. The folks at Angels Stadium, along with People magazine, had a neat idea to welcome 30 everyday heroes to the pregame festivities. These individuals were dubbed the “All-Stars Among Us,” as they have contributed mightily to their communities through various service projects. Neil and Siobhan have spent many hours coordinating and working at the Mercy Center for women and families in the South Bronx. They know what it’s like to give of yourself freely for the greater good.

Then, as the game played itself out, I saw a man step out of the shadows and carry his National League team to victory when the moment called for it. Brian McCann of the Braves wasn’t an All-Star starter, but when he stepped to the plate with the bases loaded in the seventh inning, he had a responsibility to get the job done. And so McCann did it, with a bases-clearing, game-winning double off of Chicago White Sox reliever Matt Thornton. It was enough to earn the catcher this year’s All-Star Game MVP award.

So McCann was the rock on which the National League rested its hopes last night. And he delivered. On the baseball diamond, he did what Neil and Siobhan do every day, and what they will continue to do for as long as they live. As for me, I’m just one of the lucky ones who get to experience their friendship. My parents showed me a long time ago what family is. It’s the all-stars among us.

When the Boss Listened (One Sixty-Two: Day 82)

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-Two: Andy Pettitte, New York Yankees (via George Steinbrenner)

What is strong leadership? Is it getting the job done, no matter what the cost? Is it setting a standard for dignity and effort, with the knowledge that others will watch and follow your example? Must a successful leader rule by fear and intimidation, or is it possible instead to lead more effectively through quiet determination and clear communication?

As dozens of baseball players, managers, executives and media types commented today on the death of New York Yankees Owner George Steinbrenner, they said many kind words about a man who was driven to win. But as they spoke of Steinbrenner, the underlying discussion these folks were having was one on leadership. Was Steinbrenner a positive leader, one to be honored for all time? Or was he a pushy, overly involved boss who instilled more trepidation in his employees than trust?

I’ve followed the New York Yankees closely for 33 years, and in my formative years I watched Steinbrenner blow through managers, third-base coaches and front-office executives like a fussy homemaker ever dissatisfied with his living-room furniture. What’s more, Steinbrenner would constantly trade young prospects for veterans past their prime, and he would publicly berate his players time and time again.

This came to a head in 1990, when Steinbrenner was found to have paid a gambler in order to try and find incriminating information about his own player, outfielder Dave Winfield. Fay Vincent, who was commissioner of baseball at the time, banned Steinbrenner from the game for two years.

Yankee Stadium was a lonely place in 1990, as the home team was baseball’s worst franchise and fans could constantly be heard chanting “Steinbrenner Sucks” from the stands. I can recall feeling as though the suspension of Steinbrenner had given my team new hope. And indeed, that’s exactly what happened: The team’s front office executives worked to develop talented young players such as Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera, Andy Pettitte and Jorge Posada. When these players matured, they were not traded, as had been the Steinbrenner way. Instead, they were inserted into the New York lineup.

By the time Steinbrenner returned, he could see that this plan was working. And so he did something that all good leaders do: He listened to his employees’ plan, accepted it, and changed his ways. By 1996, his Yankees were world champions again. Last year, New York won its fifth title in the past 14 years, three more than any other team has won in that time span.

In the early 2000s, Steinbrenner had one more relapse into his blustery ways, deciding strangely that Andy Pettitte – clearly his most reliable pitcher from 1995-2003 – was not worth signing anymore. He also went on to sign a few more of those big-name stars who looked good on paper but didn’t quite fit the Yankee mold. After he’d gotten Jason Giambi, Gary Sheffield and Randy Johnson out of his system and seen no titles as a result of it, Steinbrenner again listened as his general manager laid out a blueprint for developing from within and signing free-agent players who suited the Yankees’ needs. Again he listened, and agreed. So players such as Robinson Cano and Phil Hughes were not traded, and instead became All-Stars. Players such as CC Sabathia and, yes, Andy Pettitte were signed to free-agent contracts. Last year’s Yankees gave Steinbrenner one more championship – his seventh since buying the Yankees in 1973. Pettitte pitched the clinching game in all three rounds of the playoffs.

Today, as news of Steinbrenner’s passing spread throughout the country, Cano and Hughes and Sabathia and Pettitte all were in Anaheim to represent the Yankees as American League All-Stars. The plan is working, even if the Boss is not there to see it through anymore. I never met the man, so I can’t chime in on his character. But I think the sight of Andy Pettitte cruising through Inning 3 of tonight’s All-Star Game says something about this mercurial owner: He slowed down, shifted gears, and tried a new approach. He even stopped firing so many managers and coaches.

Ironically, early-21st century media have brought a reality-TV culture that thrives on intimidation, dismissed contestants and the words “You’re fired.” In the South Bronx, that’s so 1985. George Steinbrenner, dead at 80, learned patience. In doing so, he taught us all a lesson in leadership: It’s never too late to change.

The Cone of Shame (One Sixty-Two: Day Fifty-Eight)

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 Fifty-Eight: Troy Tulowitzki, Colorado Rockies

It looks like our dog got into a tussle with a lampshade, and came out on the losing end.

Some call it an Elizabethan collar, others call it a space collar, and still others label it the “cone of shame.” For Daisy, this upside-down, plastic lampshade is meant to keep her from chewing open the stitches that are part and parcel of the spaying she underwent this week.

Daisy is a 6-month-old golden retriever who’s normally teeming with energy. With the collar, though, she seems a bit depressed. She keeps bumping into doorways, and has trouble sleeping in her favorite spot beneath our bed. We have to fill up the water bowl higher than normal so she can actually reach the water and drink. And, to be honest, it’s also kind of hard for her to lick her butt these days. The dog wants her life back.

But for now, she must adjust. There are times in our lives when recovery is the name of the game, whether we like it or not. Troy Tulowitzki is the best player on the Colorado Rockies, a team viewed by many in April as a sure-fire playoff team. Thursday night, Tulowitzki was batting against Minnesota Twins reliever Alex Burnett in the later innings of a Rockies win. The pitch came inside, struck Tulowitzki’s left wrist, and changed his season completely.

Doctors found a fracture in the shortstop’s wrist yesterday. It won’t require surgery, but Tulowitzki is not going to be playing any baseball until August. Whether he likes it or not, he’s wearing a cast instead of a baseball glove. The ground balls that Tulowitzki typically scoops up so smoothly will be fielded by someone else. When the All-Star Game rolls around in a few weeks, Tulowitzki will be watching the game on TV, rather than suiting up for the game with his peers.

It’s not fun, this recovery thing. It’s easy to wallow in self-pity and stare blankly at the TV. But this too shall pass, as they say. And Troy, you can take comfort in the fact that however uncomfortable that cast feels, it is no lampshade. You really don’t want that; take it from Daisy.

Midsummer

I’ve always felt a bit of a letdown in the days following the All-Star Game. Falling just two weeks into July, the game is played at the height of summer in all its limitless splendor. There is, of course, much more left to the baseball season after the All-Star Game, from trade-deadline deals to pennant races to the postseason itself. But even with the tense, meaty drama of the second half, the fact remains that the unlimited possibility of midsummer is gone. Some of the unexpected first-place teams have slipped into second now. Some of the surprise All-Star selections have hit their inevitable second-half slumps. Some of the hot rookies have turned cold.

Some of the families I know are home from vacation already. Pro-football training camps are set to begin. Back-to-school magazines and circulars are finding their way onto my kitchen table. The number of fireflies outside at night is diminishing.

Summer has so much left to offer. But some of its prime – the heart of the watermelon, the first dip into the pool, Justin Morneau’s sprint toward home in the 15th inning – is spent. To me, the All-Star Game represents the fleeting beauty and glory of this summer season.