Did anyone else read Heyman's most recent take on the Clemens situation? Bizarre, right? It can't just be me, can it? (Sidenote: Why do I continue to read SI.com?)
My favorite part of the Roger Clemens interview on the Mike & Mike in the Morning radio show Tuesday came when he said steroids could be bad for him because of his family history, and then cited his stepfather's heart attack as evidence.
[Actually, I'm with Heyman on this one-- citing a STEPfather to support a "family history" claim = High Comedy.]
Clemens also repeated the claim that McNamee never gave him steroids or HGH, calling the hosts "Greeny" and "Goli" (Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic).
[What nerve, right?! I mean, so informal! As noted by The Guy Who Knows Things in an email to me, "I wonder if when Heyman talks to two people on the phone both named Mike, if he insists on only calling them by their same first name instead of commonly used last names, since Clemens is a jerk for that too."
Exactly. Heyman would never call Mike Greenberg "Greeny." Totally unprofessional.]
It seems he is intent on repeating these claims until no one believes him (even Greeny said he thought Clemens was guilty).
[(heavy sigh)]
I texted McNamee as to whether he'd like to respond to Clemens' latest claims....
[Spoiler alert: Heyman knows McNamee.]
The response from McNamee: "Noooo! Sorry." Which makes sense. It's best to quit while you're ahead. And while we're still in the fifth inning of this drama, it's about 20-zip for McNamee.
[Heyman sent a smiley-face text back to McNamee, for those keeping score at home. Did I mention that they are buddies?]
I will never understand Clemens' "strategy" of denial on 60 Minutes (which I watched with McNamee)....
[Starting to get a little weird.]
While the feds haven't made their move on him yet, I firmly believe -- and many baseball people believe -- he has more chance to wind up in jail than Barry Bonds.
[Heyman knows that Kangaroo Court <> Criminal Justice Department, right?
-- If it pleases the court, I would like to offer Exhibit A into evidence. Let the record show that Exhibit A is a signed statement made by a self-proclaimed "baseball person" that Roger Clemens is more likely to go to prison than Barry Bonds. Also, I would like to offer into evidence Exhibit B- a photograph of me and Brian McNamee riding the Superman Roller coaster at Six Flags. The prosecution rests.]
Taking steroids may be a silly reason to go to jail, but I don't feel sorry for Clemens, whose ego is as big as all of Texas. As hard as it is to fathom, I am starting to feel sorry for Bonds.
[Exactly- Bonds would *never* hang his trainer out to dr-- oh, wait. Nevermind.]
Showing posts with label mlb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mlb. Show all posts
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Ibañez contract: A great deal for *everyone*
What is Raul Ibañez doing with his three-year, $31.5 million contract he received from the Phillies? Joe Lemire of SI.com has the scoop, and thoughts on why this contract was awesome.
"We have really great, funny conversations during pitching changes," Ibañez said. "A lot of random things get brought up -- it's almost like an episode of Seinfeld."
[This has been happening for years in major league baseball, though. Everyone remembers when David Cone re-enacted "The Contest" episode in the bullpen years ago....]
For starters, Ibañez and Werth are avid watchers of infomercials. Though they declined to reveal what absurdities they've recently purchased for fear of giving an undue endorsement, it's not hard to imagine their homes are strewn with Snuggies, ShamWows and Swiffer SweeperVacs.
[Big blow to the ShamWow Guy-- heard he was really holding out for a Raul Ibañnez endorsement.]
"We both agree that it's tough to watch an infomercial and not want to at least try it," Werth said with a laugh. "Maybe we're both suckers."
[Is this really what ball-players do on the road at night? Watch infomercials? I miss the '86 Mets....]
The man Ibañez replaced, Pat Burrell, as well as another ex-Phillie, Bobby Abreu, both had comparable slugging numbers over the last five years, and they settled for contracts of two years, $16 million, and one year, $5 million, respectively.
[So this was... bad value, right?]
But Ibañez's hot start has helped dispel the notion that he was an unnecessary purchase.
[Oh, right-- forget about the part where we analyze multi-year contracts based upon the first 6% of the contract duration. Good point.]
Should opponents start summoning more lefty relievers to face him in the late innings, Ibañez ought to be equipped for the challenge. He's a .267 career hitter against southpaws, and this year is batting .250 with one homer.
[Was that second sentence ironic?]
One of the knocks on Ibañez was his defense, but he has had a renaissance on Philadelphia's south side.... Ibañez's cerebral approach to fielding includes noting the cut of the grass to predict which way a ball is likely to skip.
[This is great stuff.]
"Raul's a winner," Werth said of Ibañez, whose Mariner teams averaged only 72 wins per game. "That's really tough to say about somebody who's played for teams that haven't won."
[Bordering on amazing stuff.]
"We have really great, funny conversations during pitching changes," Ibañez said. "A lot of random things get brought up -- it's almost like an episode of Seinfeld."
[This has been happening for years in major league baseball, though. Everyone remembers when David Cone re-enacted "The Contest" episode in the bullpen years ago....]
For starters, Ibañez and Werth are avid watchers of infomercials. Though they declined to reveal what absurdities they've recently purchased for fear of giving an undue endorsement, it's not hard to imagine their homes are strewn with Snuggies, ShamWows and Swiffer SweeperVacs.
[Big blow to the ShamWow Guy-- heard he was really holding out for a Raul Ibañnez endorsement.]
"We both agree that it's tough to watch an infomercial and not want to at least try it," Werth said with a laugh. "Maybe we're both suckers."
[Is this really what ball-players do on the road at night? Watch infomercials? I miss the '86 Mets....]
The man Ibañez replaced, Pat Burrell, as well as another ex-Phillie, Bobby Abreu, both had comparable slugging numbers over the last five years, and they settled for contracts of two years, $16 million, and one year, $5 million, respectively.
[So this was... bad value, right?]
But Ibañez's hot start has helped dispel the notion that he was an unnecessary purchase.
[Oh, right-- forget about the part where we analyze multi-year contracts based upon the first 6% of the contract duration. Good point.]
Should opponents start summoning more lefty relievers to face him in the late innings, Ibañez ought to be equipped for the challenge. He's a .267 career hitter against southpaws, and this year is batting .250 with one homer.
[Was that second sentence ironic?]
One of the knocks on Ibañez was his defense, but he has had a renaissance on Philadelphia's south side.... Ibañez's cerebral approach to fielding includes noting the cut of the grass to predict which way a ball is likely to skip.
[This is great stuff.]
"Raul's a winner," Werth said of Ibañez, whose Mariner teams averaged only 72 wins per game. "That's really tough to say about somebody who's played for teams that haven't won."
[Bordering on amazing stuff.]
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Unwritten Rules: Unwritten for a reason.
John Shea of the San Francisco Chronicle takes issue with Carl Crawford swiping a bag up 7-0 in the 5th inning.
Glancing at Crawford's 19 steals (in 19 attempts), we noticed one in Oakland on April 24. It stands out. Fifth inning. Rays leading 7-0.
[8-0 > 7-0.]
We looked everywhere for that unwritten rule stating baserunners ought not rub it in by stealing in a lopsided game. Couldn't find it. Then we remembered: It's not written anywhere.
[Because it's stupid?]
So we sought the opinion of a couple of A's. Kurt Suzuki, the catcher that night, said he didn't recall the situation and added it "never crossed my mind (that Crawford would disregard etiquette). He plays the game hard. He plays the game right."
[If he didn't recall the situation, did he really need to add that it never crossed his mind?]
Oakland's best base-stealing threat, Rajai Davis, said, "Yeah, I remember it," adding he was taught not to run at such a time. Davis wasn't knocking Crawford, who's respected around the game, as much as suggesting it might have been appropriate to shut down the running game.
[Of all of the things that Davis said, why only put "Yeah, I remember it" in quotes? The rest of the alleged statements were kind of the important part, no?]
Two different interpretations of the rule. What did you expect? It's unwritten.
[Thereby by precluding it from...... being a rule, right?
Not a believer here-- this isn't a YMCA league. These guys are paid professionals. Do other professional industries ease on the breaks if they are crushing their competitors? Suck it up, folks.]
Glancing at Crawford's 19 steals (in 19 attempts), we noticed one in Oakland on April 24. It stands out. Fifth inning. Rays leading 7-0.
[8-0 > 7-0.]
We looked everywhere for that unwritten rule stating baserunners ought not rub it in by stealing in a lopsided game. Couldn't find it. Then we remembered: It's not written anywhere.
[Because it's stupid?]
So we sought the opinion of a couple of A's. Kurt Suzuki, the catcher that night, said he didn't recall the situation and added it "never crossed my mind (that Crawford would disregard etiquette). He plays the game hard. He plays the game right."
[If he didn't recall the situation, did he really need to add that it never crossed his mind?]
Oakland's best base-stealing threat, Rajai Davis, said, "Yeah, I remember it," adding he was taught not to run at such a time. Davis wasn't knocking Crawford, who's respected around the game, as much as suggesting it might have been appropriate to shut down the running game.
[Of all of the things that Davis said, why only put "Yeah, I remember it" in quotes? The rest of the alleged statements were kind of the important part, no?]
Two different interpretations of the rule. What did you expect? It's unwritten.
[Thereby by precluding it from...... being a rule, right?
Not a believer here-- this isn't a YMCA league. These guys are paid professionals. Do other professional industries ease on the breaks if they are crushing their competitors? Suck it up, folks.]
Friday, May 1, 2009
They wear gloves for a reason
SI.com's Tim Marchman discovers that good defense --> run prevention --> good times.
A near iron law of baseball holds that if you can't quite tell why a team is good, it's probably good at defense.
[Just an atrocious sentence.]
On Tuesday, I had a chance to test this theory against 17 innings of observation when the first-place Seattle Mariners played a straight doubleheader over a cold afternoon and evening in Chicago.
[Iron Law = A Theory?]
It isn't just skill at work here. Like other teams, the Mariners put real thought into positioning.
[Not *every* team though. (See, Mets-- cross-ref Murphy, Daniel)]
"There's obviously three ways of looking at defending a batter," explains manager Don Wakamatsu. "Number one is you look at their sprays versus a left-hander or a right-hander pitching. Number two is you look at what hitters do off your pitcher individually. Number three is the individual matchups.
[Am I just not reading that last part correctly? #2 = #3, right?]
If the Mariners know that no one ever pulls Erik Bedard's curveball, for instance, they can pull the left fielder all the way toward center field at certain times.
[Wouldn't that tip-off the batter as to what pitch is coming?]
Last year, going by Ultimate Zone Rating, a sophisticated defensive statistic based on play-by-play data, the pennant winners were streets ahead of any other team in the field, saving more than 30 runs on defense above what the third-best team did.
[Cool-- I didn't want to know how UZR was calculated anyway. Knowing that it is "sophisticated" is good enough for me.]
"The bottom line is efficiency," he says, "This game is about pitch economy. The team that throws less pitches generally wins." It's an obvious point, but one apparently overlooked by teams such as New York's two clubs, who have struggled in part because of lousy pitching that hasn't been helped by lousy defense.
[2005 Mets: 83-79; 2006 Mets: 97-65; 2007 Mets: 88-74; 2008 Mets: 89-73.
2005 Yankees: 95-67; 2006 Yankees: 97-65; 2007 Yankees: 94-68; 2008 Yankees: 89-73.
2005 Mariners: 69-93; 2006 Mariners: 78-84; 2007 Mariners: 88-74; 2008 Mariners: 61-101.
Yup. This article is going great so far.]
Either way, the wins count the same. The Mariners are on pace to improve on last year's UZR total by about 80 runs....
[OK, got it. Good UZR numbers = Good Defense.]
Granting that it's early and that UZR, like any statistic, has its quirks -- right now it rates spectacularly inept Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy among the better defenders in the game...
[njhfdsahnifdsyuinjkldfajknl]
...this would seem to suggest the Seattle Mariners is for real.
[This article are FAIL.]
A near iron law of baseball holds that if you can't quite tell why a team is good, it's probably good at defense.
[Just an atrocious sentence.]
On Tuesday, I had a chance to test this theory against 17 innings of observation when the first-place Seattle Mariners played a straight doubleheader over a cold afternoon and evening in Chicago.
[Iron Law = A Theory?]
It isn't just skill at work here. Like other teams, the Mariners put real thought into positioning.
[Not *every* team though. (See, Mets-- cross-ref Murphy, Daniel)]
"There's obviously three ways of looking at defending a batter," explains manager Don Wakamatsu. "Number one is you look at their sprays versus a left-hander or a right-hander pitching. Number two is you look at what hitters do off your pitcher individually. Number three is the individual matchups.
[Am I just not reading that last part correctly? #2 = #3, right?]
If the Mariners know that no one ever pulls Erik Bedard's curveball, for instance, they can pull the left fielder all the way toward center field at certain times.
[Wouldn't that tip-off the batter as to what pitch is coming?]
Last year, going by Ultimate Zone Rating, a sophisticated defensive statistic based on play-by-play data, the pennant winners were streets ahead of any other team in the field, saving more than 30 runs on defense above what the third-best team did.
[Cool-- I didn't want to know how UZR was calculated anyway. Knowing that it is "sophisticated" is good enough for me.]
"The bottom line is efficiency," he says, "This game is about pitch economy. The team that throws less pitches generally wins." It's an obvious point, but one apparently overlooked by teams such as New York's two clubs, who have struggled in part because of lousy pitching that hasn't been helped by lousy defense.
[2005 Mets: 83-79; 2006 Mets: 97-65; 2007 Mets: 88-74; 2008 Mets: 89-73.
2005 Yankees: 95-67; 2006 Yankees: 97-65; 2007 Yankees: 94-68; 2008 Yankees: 89-73.
2005 Mariners: 69-93; 2006 Mariners: 78-84; 2007 Mariners: 88-74; 2008 Mariners: 61-101.
Yup. This article is going great so far.]
Either way, the wins count the same. The Mariners are on pace to improve on last year's UZR total by about 80 runs....
[OK, got it. Good UZR numbers = Good Defense.]
Granting that it's early and that UZR, like any statistic, has its quirks -- right now it rates spectacularly inept Mets left fielder Daniel Murphy among the better defenders in the game...
[njhfdsahnifdsyuinjkldfajknl]
...this would seem to suggest the Seattle Mariners is for real.
[This article are FAIL.]
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Citi Field: Why aren't you causing the Mets to win every game?
Bob Klapisch plays the role of Buzz Killington in his breakdown of last night's Citi Field debut.
Everything was bigger, louder, brighter — a consumer’s dream, at least for those who equate a good time at the ballpark with the perks.
[True. I'd prefer the Mets play their games on one of the LGA runways. No grass. No dirt. No seats. Just asphalt, jet fuel fumes and baseball. Good time.]
But it’ll take more than the peripherals to make believers out of this long-suffering community.
[Believers of what? It's a BUILDING.]
The only way to eradicate the collapses of ’07 and ’08 is to win a pennant in ’09, which is to say, give it a month and Citi won’t feel so new anymore.
[Really? Those two things are related? Dude, it's a new stadium, not one of those Men In Black memory-erasing gadgets. Which is to say, fail.]
Is Mike Pelfrey injured?
[Why? Was he holding his arm or complaining of soreness?]
He allowed five runs in five innings, and with an 8.10 ERA has management worried.
[Oh, right, he's had a bad *week*. Obviously injured. In a related story, Chien-Ming Wang is in a coma.]
By June, depending on how the Mets are playing, Citi either will be greater New York’s nifty little treasure, or just another place where fans can have their hearts broken.
[Note to architects: Worry less about the actual structure, and more about the various people that may occupy it. And nice T-square. Nerds.]
If Shea Stadium’s legacy belonged to Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza and Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez, Citi will be Wright’s domain now and forever. Only 25, he’ll soon enter his prime years in this ballpark, and with left field a manageable 364 feet in left, the third baseman easily could evolve into a 40-homer threat.
[In contrast to right field, which is 330 feet IN RIGHT.]
Learning that the ball doesn’t carry straightaway is just one of the many secrets of Citi.
[Soooo, they should..... swing harder?]
The Mets have the potential to rock the house in 2009, but not because Citi is a nice upgrade over Shea.
[Just enjoy the new digs, Klapisch. This isn't that hard.]
Everything was bigger, louder, brighter — a consumer’s dream, at least for those who equate a good time at the ballpark with the perks.
[True. I'd prefer the Mets play their games on one of the LGA runways. No grass. No dirt. No seats. Just asphalt, jet fuel fumes and baseball. Good time.]
But it’ll take more than the peripherals to make believers out of this long-suffering community.
[Believers of what? It's a BUILDING.]
The only way to eradicate the collapses of ’07 and ’08 is to win a pennant in ’09, which is to say, give it a month and Citi won’t feel so new anymore.
[Really? Those two things are related? Dude, it's a new stadium, not one of those Men In Black memory-erasing gadgets. Which is to say, fail.]
Is Mike Pelfrey injured?
[Why? Was he holding his arm or complaining of soreness?]
He allowed five runs in five innings, and with an 8.10 ERA has management worried.
[Oh, right, he's had a bad *week*. Obviously injured. In a related story, Chien-Ming Wang is in a coma.]
By June, depending on how the Mets are playing, Citi either will be greater New York’s nifty little treasure, or just another place where fans can have their hearts broken.
[Note to architects: Worry less about the actual structure, and more about the various people that may occupy it. And nice T-square. Nerds.]
If Shea Stadium’s legacy belonged to Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza and Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez, Citi will be Wright’s domain now and forever. Only 25, he’ll soon enter his prime years in this ballpark, and with left field a manageable 364 feet in left, the third baseman easily could evolve into a 40-homer threat.
[In contrast to right field, which is 330 feet IN RIGHT.]
Learning that the ball doesn’t carry straightaway is just one of the many secrets of Citi.
[Soooo, they should..... swing harder?]
The Mets have the potential to rock the house in 2009, but not because Citi is a nice upgrade over Shea.
[Just enjoy the new digs, Klapisch. This isn't that hard.]
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
It's Official: The Yankees' Off-Season Was a HUGE Fail
SI's Jon Heyman takes the completely appropriate perspective in dissecting the Yankees' off-season acquisitions of Sabathia and Teixiera.
The whole thing was such a letdown after the big buildup, yet manager Joe Girardi declared in the postgame press conference that he feels as good about this Yankees team as any team he's ever been associated with, big talk since Girardi was on the 1998 Yankees team that won 125 games.
[Yeah, Girardi. Idiot. You just lost a game. Totally not something that the '98 team would have done.]
Between Sabathia and Teixeira, the Yankees got zero return on their $341 million investment.
[Seriously. If Cashman knew that Sabathia and Teixeria were going to have a *single* bad game over the course of their lengthy multi-year contracts, he would have NEVER inked those deals. Spot on, Heyman. Kudos on a job....... done.]
The whole thing was such a letdown after the big buildup, yet manager Joe Girardi declared in the postgame press conference that he feels as good about this Yankees team as any team he's ever been associated with, big talk since Girardi was on the 1998 Yankees team that won 125 games.
[Yeah, Girardi. Idiot. You just lost a game. Totally not something that the '98 team would have done.]
Between Sabathia and Teixeira, the Yankees got zero return on their $341 million investment.
[Seriously. If Cashman knew that Sabathia and Teixeria were going to have a *single* bad game over the course of their lengthy multi-year contracts, he would have NEVER inked those deals. Spot on, Heyman. Kudos on a job....... done.]
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
"Optimism" for the Royals
Buster Olney blogs today about Mark Teahan's transition to 2B as one piece of the "widespread optimism" in Kansas City this spring.
Teahen feels the optimism that has been pervasive in the Royals' camp. He sees the improvement in Alex Gordon and in Kyle Davies. He sees the same potential in the team that rival scouts have noted. "This is the first year I'm leaving camp thinking that we should be in contention," Teahen said.
[Hmmm. Seems pretty glass-half-full, but I haven't really looked into the '09 Royals to any meaningful extent yet. So maybe the "pervasive" optimism about the '09 Royals is appropriate.]
It appears that Sidney Ponson has won a spot in the Royals' rotation....
[Nevermind!]
Teahen feels the optimism that has been pervasive in the Royals' camp. He sees the improvement in Alex Gordon and in Kyle Davies. He sees the same potential in the team that rival scouts have noted. "This is the first year I'm leaving camp thinking that we should be in contention," Teahen said.
[Hmmm. Seems pretty glass-half-full, but I haven't really looked into the '09 Royals to any meaningful extent yet. So maybe the "pervasive" optimism about the '09 Royals is appropriate.]
It appears that Sidney Ponson has won a spot in the Royals' rotation....
[Nevermind!]
Friday, February 20, 2009
Nostalgia = Acumen
Jerry Brewer of The Seattle Times outlines the sentimental maneuvering that brought legend Ken Griffey, Jr. back to the Mariners.
Of all the touching, misty, joyful tales of this Junior Reprise, the most underrated comes from a man you've been hoping would be thrown overboard wearing a concrete life vest.
[I'm not really sure what A-Rod could have possibly had to do with this....]
For years, Mariners fans have blamed team president Chuck Armstrong, along with CEO Howard Lincoln, for their team's woes.
[Oh. Right. Sorry. I am just so accustomed to reading.... Nevermind.]
How did it happen? Go back several months, to the start of free agency. General manager Jack Zduriencik had just been hired, and after he got comfortable and started mulling plans to improve the roster, Armstrong mentioned his familial relationship with Griffey and his agent, Brian Goldberg.
[Hint, hint....]
Maybe it was his love for Griffey. Maybe he just knew him better than most. So the team president offered his assistance to Zduriencik. "Let me take the Griffey thing," Armstrong told his new GM. "Obviously, you have autonomy to do what you want here, but I'll look into this, and if you think acquiring Junior is the best baseball decision, then I will do everything I can to make it happen."
[HINT, HINT!!!]
After examining their options, Zduriencik and manager Don Wakamatsu agreed the Mariners could use Griffey's left-handed bat.
[Zduriencik's "options": (1) Keep job; (2) Lose job.]
Armstrong flew to California, where Griffey was playing in a Pebble Beach pro-am golf tournament. Griffey, his agent and Armstrong had dinner together at the Lodge at Pebble Beach that night. People kept coming over to say hello to Griffey, and Armstrong became nervous he would be spotted.
[Do you think he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache? I bet he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache.]
But no one recognized Armstrong as a representative of the Mariners.
[Huh? Is this guy one of the Jonas Brothers or something?]
After dinner, the three men went to Junior's hotel room to talk some more. Armstrong wiggled past an ironing board in the middle of the room.
[Umm, ok?]
"You ironed your shirt?" he said. "Yeah, I wanted to look good," Griffey replied.
[Cue over-the-top wah pedal riffs.]
It spurred conversation of how much Junior had grown in the 22 years since the Mariners drafted him.
[Crank up over-the-top wah pedal riffs. All the way to 11.]
They drifted back in time, to the first contract Griffey signed. What a long night that was.
[It's already at 11!!]
Then Atlanta started bidding against Seattle, and it seemed like the Braves would sign him.... At least the experience was cathartic for Armstrong. Griffey made him feel inspired again...
[I could keep going with this all day.]
Shortly after Armstrong's flight landed, he turned on his cellphone and received the call from Goldberg. He sounded very serious and put Griffey on the phone. "It's hard for me to tell you, but ... " Griffey said softly, pausing for effect, "I'm coming back!" When the call concluded, Mariners team physician Mitch Storey, who was on that same flight, looked at Armstrong and noticed some wetness around his eyes.
[Serious question here: Would you want *this* guy running your favorite team?]
After all the lows, Armstrong finally felt the ultimate high — pure joy.
[Can't say enough about how much I loved this article. Just amazing.]
Of all the touching, misty, joyful tales of this Junior Reprise, the most underrated comes from a man you've been hoping would be thrown overboard wearing a concrete life vest.
[I'm not really sure what A-Rod could have possibly had to do with this....]
For years, Mariners fans have blamed team president Chuck Armstrong, along with CEO Howard Lincoln, for their team's woes.
[Oh. Right. Sorry. I am just so accustomed to reading.... Nevermind.]
How did it happen? Go back several months, to the start of free agency. General manager Jack Zduriencik had just been hired, and after he got comfortable and started mulling plans to improve the roster, Armstrong mentioned his familial relationship with Griffey and his agent, Brian Goldberg.
[Hint, hint....]
Maybe it was his love for Griffey. Maybe he just knew him better than most. So the team president offered his assistance to Zduriencik. "Let me take the Griffey thing," Armstrong told his new GM. "Obviously, you have autonomy to do what you want here, but I'll look into this, and if you think acquiring Junior is the best baseball decision, then I will do everything I can to make it happen."
[HINT, HINT!!!]
After examining their options, Zduriencik and manager Don Wakamatsu agreed the Mariners could use Griffey's left-handed bat.
[Zduriencik's "options": (1) Keep job; (2) Lose job.]
Armstrong flew to California, where Griffey was playing in a Pebble Beach pro-am golf tournament. Griffey, his agent and Armstrong had dinner together at the Lodge at Pebble Beach that night. People kept coming over to say hello to Griffey, and Armstrong became nervous he would be spotted.
[Do you think he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache? I bet he put on a fake Groucho Marx mustache.]
But no one recognized Armstrong as a representative of the Mariners.
[Huh? Is this guy one of the Jonas Brothers or something?]
After dinner, the three men went to Junior's hotel room to talk some more. Armstrong wiggled past an ironing board in the middle of the room.
[Umm, ok?]
"You ironed your shirt?" he said. "Yeah, I wanted to look good," Griffey replied.
[Cue over-the-top wah pedal riffs.]
It spurred conversation of how much Junior had grown in the 22 years since the Mariners drafted him.
[Crank up over-the-top wah pedal riffs. All the way to 11.]
They drifted back in time, to the first contract Griffey signed. What a long night that was.
[It's already at 11!!]
Then Atlanta started bidding against Seattle, and it seemed like the Braves would sign him.... At least the experience was cathartic for Armstrong. Griffey made him feel inspired again...
[I could keep going with this all day.]
Shortly after Armstrong's flight landed, he turned on his cellphone and received the call from Goldberg. He sounded very serious and put Griffey on the phone. "It's hard for me to tell you, but ... " Griffey said softly, pausing for effect, "I'm coming back!" When the call concluded, Mariners team physician Mitch Storey, who was on that same flight, looked at Armstrong and noticed some wetness around his eyes.
[Serious question here: Would you want *this* guy running your favorite team?]
After all the lows, Armstrong finally felt the ultimate high — pure joy.
[Can't say enough about how much I loved this article. Just amazing.]
Monday, January 26, 2009
Stay classy, Torre
Tell-alls are all the rage, I know. Britney is about to write one. Ditto for Sarah Palin. So Joe Torre is striking while the iron is hot, as the excerpt posted on SI.com illustrates.
The meeting was Torre's idea. Hank, Hal, Lopez, Levine, Trost and Cashman had kicked around the idea of what to do about Torre for the better part of a week. Do they offer him another contract, and, if so, for how long and for how much money? Do they even want him back at all? While they deliberated, Torre told Cashman he wanted to meet with the group face-to-face. It wasn't much different than how he managed: You look somebody in the eye and rely on direct honesty, rather than leaks and secondhand information.
[A bonus feature for purchasers of this book who also happen to work in the Yankee front office: Torre will come to your home or office and read the book aloud to you. Direct.]
"They only want to give you one year," Cashman told him over the phone.... "Cash, I have an idea. What about a two-year contract? It doesn't even really matter what the money is. Two years, and if I get fired in the first year, the second year is guaranteed. But if I get fired after the first year, I don't get the full amount of the second year, just a buyout. The money doesn't matter. I mean, as long as it's not just something ridiculous. It's not about the money. It's the second year."
[Exactly. The money makes *no* difference. Oh, but yeah, I'm going to want to see the terms of that buyout before I sign off on it.]
Torre had just gone through a hellish season, with constant leaks in the press, sniping from the front office, frequent rumors about him getting fired and the feeling that people within his own organization were rooting against him. He was worn out by all of it. There was no way he was going to go through another year like that.
[But *two* years of that? I can be persuaded....]
All Torre wanted was to manage one more season in relative calm, and the second year on a contract would help provide that kind of stability. The second year was nothing but an insurance policy. He planned to retire after that one season, anyway.
[Amazed that this negotiating tactic was unsuccessful, I tried it out myself following my recent performance review at my own place of employment:
Boss: Archie, is there anything that you'd like to discuss?
Me: Actually there is, sir: my employment contract.
Boss: OK, what specifically would you like to discuss?
Me: The length of my imminent extension. I know that we normally go year-to-year, but I would really prefer to get 2009 *and* 2010 guaranteed now.
Boss: Hmmm, for any particular reason?
Me: Yes. I'd like to retire in 2010 and move someplace warm..., maybe Scottsdale. But I'd prefer to get paid for that year.
Boss: .....But you have no intention of working for the company. You just admitted as much.
Me: You are focusing on all the wrong details, sir. Paying me for 2010-- even though I have no intention of working for you at all during that year-- will make me more productive in 2009.
Boss: I'm going to have to say "no" here, Archie. I'll see you on Monday.
Me: Maybe a buyout option?
Boss: Don't make me call Security.
"Yeah, I was leaving a lot of money on the table," Torre said, "but I didn't give a s---, because I knew what I went through the year before, dreading coming to the ballpark and sitting behind that desk every day. It would have been the same thing."
[How could the Yankees let this guy go?!?]
The meeting was Torre's idea. Hank, Hal, Lopez, Levine, Trost and Cashman had kicked around the idea of what to do about Torre for the better part of a week. Do they offer him another contract, and, if so, for how long and for how much money? Do they even want him back at all? While they deliberated, Torre told Cashman he wanted to meet with the group face-to-face. It wasn't much different than how he managed: You look somebody in the eye and rely on direct honesty, rather than leaks and secondhand information.
[A bonus feature for purchasers of this book who also happen to work in the Yankee front office: Torre will come to your home or office and read the book aloud to you. Direct.]
"They only want to give you one year," Cashman told him over the phone.... "Cash, I have an idea. What about a two-year contract? It doesn't even really matter what the money is. Two years, and if I get fired in the first year, the second year is guaranteed. But if I get fired after the first year, I don't get the full amount of the second year, just a buyout. The money doesn't matter. I mean, as long as it's not just something ridiculous. It's not about the money. It's the second year."
[Exactly. The money makes *no* difference. Oh, but yeah, I'm going to want to see the terms of that buyout before I sign off on it.]
Torre had just gone through a hellish season, with constant leaks in the press, sniping from the front office, frequent rumors about him getting fired and the feeling that people within his own organization were rooting against him. He was worn out by all of it. There was no way he was going to go through another year like that.
[But *two* years of that? I can be persuaded....]
All Torre wanted was to manage one more season in relative calm, and the second year on a contract would help provide that kind of stability. The second year was nothing but an insurance policy. He planned to retire after that one season, anyway.
[Amazed that this negotiating tactic was unsuccessful, I tried it out myself following my recent performance review at my own place of employment:
Boss: Archie, is there anything that you'd like to discuss?
Me: Actually there is, sir: my employment contract.
Boss: OK, what specifically would you like to discuss?
Me: The length of my imminent extension. I know that we normally go year-to-year, but I would really prefer to get 2009 *and* 2010 guaranteed now.
Boss: Hmmm, for any particular reason?
Me: Yes. I'd like to retire in 2010 and move someplace warm..., maybe Scottsdale. But I'd prefer to get paid for that year.
Boss: .....But you have no intention of working for the company. You just admitted as much.
Me: You are focusing on all the wrong details, sir. Paying me for 2010-- even though I have no intention of working for you at all during that year-- will make me more productive in 2009.
Boss: I'm going to have to say "no" here, Archie. I'll see you on Monday.
Me: Maybe a buyout option?
Boss: Don't make me call Security.
"Yeah, I was leaving a lot of money on the table," Torre said, "but I didn't give a s---, because I knew what I went through the year before, dreading coming to the ballpark and sitting behind that desk every day. It would have been the same thing."
[How could the Yankees let this guy go?!?]
Friday, January 23, 2009
Jeff Kent: A be-mustached matryoshka doll of sensitivity
Bill Plaschke notes that under the close to two-decades of unpleasantness lies the *real* Jeff Kent.
In announcing his retirement Thursday, Jeff Kent finally showed the passion that he spent 17 years hiding underneath an icy veneer that won many games but few friends.
[Take note Albert Belle: When people refer to you as "surly," correct them; it was merely your *veneer* that was surly.]
He cried when talking about the Dodgers uniform, cried when talking about his family, sincerely thanked reporters for their questions, and even explained the last unexplainable thing in his career. "My dad was a police officer . . . hence, the mustache," he said, smiling below reddened eyes.
[Somewhere Nic Cage is nodding in approval.]
It's a sad thing, knowing now that he could have perhaps used some of this passion to have more impact as a leader.
[MORE impact as a leader?]
He spoke of his confrontations with everyone from Barry Bonds to Milton Bradley to Dodgers rookies as being part of a plan to sacrifice himself for the sake of the clubhouse. "The run-ins I might have had with teammates or some of the media, almost everything I did, I did purposely," he said.
[O Captain! My Captain!]
He said that his perceived toughness on teammates was just his way of injecting a respect for the game.
[Similar to when Kenny Rogers gave that cameraman an "esteem hug" back in June 2005.]
His one misgiving, he later admitted, was that perhaps he wasn't tough enough on one teammate. Kent will forever believe that after his San Francisco Giants blew the five-run lead in the last three innings of Game 6 of the 2002 World Series against the Angels, he should have fought Barry Bonds.
[He even went as far as passing the bat-boy a note addressed to Bonds that read: "Visitors parking lot - 30 minutes after the game. Be there. Or else. P.S. Nobody likes you."]
"If I had fought Barry, I could have gotten the focus off losing, and we could have been better prepared for Game 7."
[This has to be the mustache talking, right? I can hear the pre-game interview now: "You know, despite the fact that I have two broken bones in my hand and Barry's jaw is wired shut, we've never been more focused as a team than we are right now."]
We may have never known the depth of the real Jeff Kent, but the one we did know was plenty.
[Amen.]
In announcing his retirement Thursday, Jeff Kent finally showed the passion that he spent 17 years hiding underneath an icy veneer that won many games but few friends.
[Take note Albert Belle: When people refer to you as "surly," correct them; it was merely your *veneer* that was surly.]
He cried when talking about the Dodgers uniform, cried when talking about his family, sincerely thanked reporters for their questions, and even explained the last unexplainable thing in his career. "My dad was a police officer . . . hence, the mustache," he said, smiling below reddened eyes.
[Somewhere Nic Cage is nodding in approval.]
It's a sad thing, knowing now that he could have perhaps used some of this passion to have more impact as a leader.
[MORE impact as a leader?]
He spoke of his confrontations with everyone from Barry Bonds to Milton Bradley to Dodgers rookies as being part of a plan to sacrifice himself for the sake of the clubhouse. "The run-ins I might have had with teammates or some of the media, almost everything I did, I did purposely," he said.
[O Captain! My Captain!]
He said that his perceived toughness on teammates was just his way of injecting a respect for the game.
[Similar to when Kenny Rogers gave that cameraman an "esteem hug" back in June 2005.]
His one misgiving, he later admitted, was that perhaps he wasn't tough enough on one teammate. Kent will forever believe that after his San Francisco Giants blew the five-run lead in the last three innings of Game 6 of the 2002 World Series against the Angels, he should have fought Barry Bonds.
[He even went as far as passing the bat-boy a note addressed to Bonds that read: "Visitors parking lot - 30 minutes after the game. Be there. Or else. P.S. Nobody likes you."]
"If I had fought Barry, I could have gotten the focus off losing, and we could have been better prepared for Game 7."
[This has to be the mustache talking, right? I can hear the pre-game interview now: "You know, despite the fact that I have two broken bones in my hand and Barry's jaw is wired shut, we've never been more focused as a team than we are right now."]
We may have never known the depth of the real Jeff Kent, but the one we did know was plenty.
[Amen.]
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