 |
| How can we know the flipper from the flip? |
I was already perfectly content with how things had gone, and how they were continuing to go, when the Blue Jays picked up their fifty-ninth win of the season in their hundredth game, a feat they have never managed previously. I was even more content when, after sweeping the San Francisco Giants and taking two-out-of-three from the defensively-woeful Yankees (I feel no woe about that personally, of course), the Blue Jays trounced the sliding Detroit Tigers to overtake Houston for the top spot in the American League broadly (please note that the Astros will forever be a National League team to me and nothing can change this). But after last night's additional Tigers-drubbing, my heart grew contentlier still, as the Blue Jays now hold—however fleetingly—the best overall record in baseball (sixty-two wins against forty-two losses) for the first time time since August 2nd, 1992, a season I remember as vividly as baseball from thirty-three years ago can be remembered (which is actually super vividly, in several key regards). This season has been, and continues to be, a marvel, and one of the particular ways I have been marveling at it is to consider how much it feels to me like 1992, in particular, in that the 1992 Blue Jays, on paper, did not present all that differently, in terms of what you'd expect from them, from any team since about 1987 (I am setting aside our best-ever 1985 squad, a missed opportunity forever to be mourned), which is to say: the 1992 team looked like a solid contender, just as they had for the better part of a decade, but there were several other solid contenders against which they must inevitably contend, and who can say what might arise out of that contention? But then they won, and you look back at it, and maybe even run a little Baseball Mogul or Out of the Park (who among us has not at least dabbled?), and it is like, yeah, an excellent baseball team, but what made that team the one that finally won? Happenstance, as much as anything, I suppose. About the 1993 team, there is of course no mystery: having spent all of the money that has ever existed, the only time the 1993 Toronto Blue Jays were not on base is when they were jogging back to the dugout from home plate having recently scored. It would have been insane for them not to have won. And so they did.
This is in no way a prediction, of course, or an expectation that I have, but the 2025 team gives me the 1992 feeling, in that they are a team that, despite last year's obvious disaster, has been contending with the same core for five years, made a few little tweaks but nothing remarkable headed into this year, and yet here we are atop the league, somehow. And yet, here's how we're doing it: leading the league(s) in batting average, on-base percentage, and on-base-plus-slugging, all of which feels heavily 1993-coded. They aren't slugging like one might have hoped or expected, but they are putting the ball in play at an improbable rate (not by historical standards, but by contemporary ones), and BABIPping their way to glory and renown. The starting rotation has been good but not great; the bullpen has been good but not great; and people are still complaining about Vladdy (perhaps the only player in the league who could go two-for-four with a single, a double, and a walk, and it'll be like "man what's wrong with Vladdy?"). And yet here we are. Oh, and of course the fielding: it has been excellent once again; we are truly spoiled for fielding, and having watched the Yankees kick the ball around the other night for four errors (a gross tally that, even in its grossness, does not capture the extent of their misplay), dude I am so grateful for all the fielding (great job guys!).
With just a few days to go before the trade deadline, the Blue Jays are expected to be as "all in" as is realistically possible given who is available (it's not going to be a huge year for anybody, looks like), but maybe the biggest improvements are to found internally? As soon as Daulton Varsho returns, our already-excellent defense improves, and we'll be getting more out of his bat than we're getting out of Myles Straw's (no diss, Myles Straw; love your hustle out there bro); can Anthony Santander offer at least the possibility of a power bat off the bench, once he is able to resume "baseball activities" (a phrase of which I am very fond)? What if Alek Manoah, continuing his long rehab, is able to offer even minimal service down the stretch, to lighten the load on the bullpen if nothing else? That last one is probably a stretch. The boldest move, and the one that appeals to me the most, would be to truly follow the example of the 1992 season, and trade for David Cone. But nobody listens.
KS
