Blue Jays 12, Rays 7; Rays 3, Blue Jays 2: It's Just That Hockey Playoffs

The light really is flat in there with the roof closed isn't it.

I am in favour of both Mark Beuhrle and games where Jose Bautista hits a dinger (or dingerz) so I find no joy in having not watched that one and not even having had it on the radio for even like a minute, but the hockey playoffs started, and we got oven-based snacks for that, and also a new kind of ginger ale that I am enjoying tremendously, so it was just extremely not a baseball night, you know? And last night I just wanted to read Chaucer (try it, you might like it!). 

Also, if I may be frank with you for a moment, even though the Rays got all interesting for a while and then receded to not being that interesting again I guess, I have never really cared about baseball games that the Rays were playing. This is nonsense, but it is how I feel about the Rays. I don't like their uniforms and their ballpark is dumb and I don't like how the Blue Jays play them a lot but never really play the Tigers and although that has nothing to do with the Rays I have always kind of held that against them? Also Jonah Keri's book about them was, on the level of the prose itself, just the absolute shits, if you will forgive my plain speaking on the matter.

Up next we have the Braves, and thoughts turn, of course, to the 1992 World Series which meant a pretty staggering amount more than the 1993 one even if the Joe Carter moment is obviously the singular moment from those years but should it be or should it be when Roberto Alomar homered off Eckersly in 92 in Oakland and put his arms up the second he hit it even though it ended up being kind of a squeaker just over the fence in right like how did Robbie know he had gotten enough of it how did he *know* and yet he *knew* and now he is in the Hall of Fame and should have gone in the first year except he spit on an umpire once which is an inappropriate thing to have done but also a fully human act that was long since forgiven by the man spat upon and so who are we to sit in judgement of Roberto Alomar who are we to deny him his propers.

In closing, if you haven't seen the Pillar catch, it was really good, and is here.  

Oh yeah also Jose Reyes got hurt lol.

KS  

Still on the Subject of Roberto Alomar: He Seems to Have Taken A Guy's Shirt

This showed up at Drunk Jays Fans. Honest misunderstanding, or final step in a decades-long plot to steal a shirt from a guy? There are different ways to read this.


KS

Baseball Feelings Congratulates the 2011 Hall of Fame Class

Not pictured: plaques bearing passable likenesses of Pat Gillick, Roberto Alomar, or Bert Blyleven 

The entire staff (lol) of Baseball Feelings wishes to extend its most heartfelt congratulations to the 2011 inductees into the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. There is kind of an unreal amount of nonsense surrounding the Baseball Hall of Fame, and I am actually totally into that nonsense, but this is a no-nonsense group of inductees: Pat Gillick built champions in Toronto and Philadelphia as well as winners in Baltimore and Seattle; Bert Blyleven had been one of the Hall's most inexcusable oversights for years; and Roberto Alomar was the greatest second baseman of his generation and arguably the second best since integration. 


There has been an enormous amount written about all three of these first-rate baseball men over the last few days, and to all of that I will only add the following: 


(i) Pat Gillick is of course best known for the trade that sent Fred McGriff and Tony Fernandez to San Diego in exchange for Joe Carter and Roberto Alomar, in one of the great pure baseball trades in baseball history, but his character is perhaps best revealed in the deal that sent Alan Ashby to Houston after the 1978 season. Ashby, soon after word of the trade came through, found himself on the phone with Gillick, who made him an offer on the condo he kept near the Blue Jays spring training facility in Dunedin, Florida, because, I mean, it's not like Ashby was going to need it anymore, right? That is some shrewd, coldblooded stuff right there, and that is how you build a winner.


(ii) For non-Blue Jays fans, the biggest moment in Blue Jays history is no doubt Joe Carter's home run in the bottom of the ninth inning of game six in the 1993 World Series. That is entirely reasonable, and I totally get it: it's one of the most dramatic World Series endings ever. I am pretty fond of it too. But the pivotal moment that turned the Blue Jays from perennial contenders who always came up just short -- that is to say, chokers -- to champions came a year before, and it wasn't Dave Winfield's double down the left-field line that brought in the winning runs in extra innings. It was Game Four of the 1992 ALCS. It really, really seemed like it was all falling apart for the Jays, and then to make matters worse, the utterly loathsome Dennis Eckersly had the gall to point at Ed Sprague in an aggressive and confrontational manner after striking him out. I could not have hated what was happening any more than I did. And then this happened:

What still gets me about the Alomar home run that finally made the Blue Jays winners is that reaction, arms up the moment the ball left the bat. You look at that, and you'd think Alomar had hit it a ton, but it was actually kind of a scraper, just enough to make it out of the Coliseum. Somehow, thought, it was a complete no-doubter to Robbie. For me, it's the most important moment in Toronto Blue Jays history. Statements like "Roberto Alomar was the best player to ever wear the uniform," which you see sometimes, are complicated by Roger Clemens' two seasons with the team and Rickey Henderson's half-year stint, but I appreciate where they're coming from. When you look back at it all, it's strange how brief Alomar's stay in Toronto really was -- 1991 through only 1995 -- but at the same time, there's no doubt he's a Blue Jay, and no doubt one of the best.  


Also, he did a goofy add for McCain's Fruit Punch one time and he is still living with the consequences of that decision. It inspired the following image, in which I used every one of my Photoshop skills to what I think you'll agree is startling effect:

The last thing I want to tell you about Robero Alomar right now -- aside from saying that if you are still mad about how he spit at John Hirschbeck years after Hirschbeck and Alomar put it totally behind them, I don't like you -- is actually a Stephen Brunt story. Brunt signed on to write a book with Alomar at the last minute after the previously contracted writer bailed. Brunt is not particularly proud of the literary merits of the work, but he talks warmly about his time with Robbie and meeting the various Alomars and all of that. The best part about the whole deal, though, was going to book signings with Alomar where scads of young women would line up for Robbie's autograph, scowl at Brunt when he dared profane their books with his signature next to their boyfriend's, and then pretty much say the filthiest stuff you've ever heard to Robbie. This did not happen just one or two notable times, Brunt says, but instead like all the time. Invariably, Robbie would turn to Brunt and ask in delight and disbelief, "Stephen, d'you hear what she say?"   


(iii) As long as there are baseball feelings there shall be Baseball Feelings, and as long as there is Baseball Feelings, there shall be Bert Blyleven and his t-shirt. Blyleven might be fifth all-time in strikeouts and the thirteenth-best pitcher ever by WAR with 60 shutouts to his credit and one of the best curveballs anyone has ever seen, but it's that shirt, man, that shirt that really does it for me. Also, he's pretty open about it:

Q: Speaking of pride, what about this T-shirt you've been photographed wearing that says, "I [heart] to fart"?
BB: I LOVE to fart.
Q: What's wrong with you?
BB: I'm honest. Have you ever farted?
Q: One or two times.
BB: And did it feel good?
Q: Always.
BB: Probably so. That's why I wore it. I love to fart. I do. When the time is right, I do it. I'm not going to hide it.
Q: You're so blunt about your love for flatulence.
BB: Yeah. Well, someone gave me the shirt because of my history of farting, so I wear it. I LOVE to fart. I think I still have it.
Q: What gets you really gassy?
BB: Anything. The air we're breathing right now.
Q: Should I be ready for something?
BB: I have no trouble.

He has no trouble. It's not a threat; it's a statement of fact. He has no trouble.


And that, friends, is your Class of 2011.


KS

Dale Murphy: My Favorite Mormon

By all rights I should hate Dale Murphy. He's a Mormon convert who almost ran for Governor of Utah as a  Republican. He would not pay for his teammates' dinners if they ordered alcohol of any kind. He absolutely refused to take photos with women who weren't married to him. After retiring, he even began a non-profit focused solely on teaching good sportsmanship to Little Leaguers.

But he was often the lone bright spot of an otherwise forgettable Braves lineup throughout the lean years of the 1980's. Five straight Gold Gloves. Four straight Silver Sluggers. Two MVP nods. Seven All-Star selections.

As an example, let us look at 1985. The Braves finished an execrable 66-96, but the Murph wasn't sitting back and fiddling while Rome burned. Dale led the league in home runs with 37, walks with 90, times on base with 276, and runs scored with 118. If you're one of those statistics geeks with your fancy-dancy formulas and such, Murphy also led the league in Offensive WAR (7.8), Runs Created (131), and WPA (6.3).

Those are just the categories he led in. He was in the top ten of nearly EVERY offensive stat you can think of: slugging, OPS, WAR Position Player, hits, doubles, total bases, RBIs, Adjusted OPS+, Adjusting Batting Runs, Adjusted Batting Wins, XBH, Offensive Win Percentage, Intentional Base on Balls, Situational Wins Added, and Base-Out Wins Added.

So why is he an afterthought to most of baseball?

Two reasons, both out of his control.

First, he peaked hard and dropped just as quick. He played from 1976 to 1993, but was only really productive from 1982 to 1987. To use a simple gauge, his BA went from .247 in 1981 to .287 in 1982, and from .295 in 1987 to .226 in 1988. From the perspective of John Q. Baseball-Writer, that's not what you're looking for in a surefire Hall-of-Famer.

Second, he had the misfortune to retire in 1993, the year after a young coppertop from Pomona, California named McGwire began his... *ahem* workout regimen *cough*.

That's right. The clean-living, drug-free, anti-cheating crusader now has to compete for John Q. Baseball-Writer's ten precious HoF votes alongside the Roid Rangers. 37 homers in a season just doesn't seem all that  impressive compared to McGwire's 70, Sosa's 66, or Bonds' 73 dingers.

If ever there were a Hall of Very Good, I'd put Dale Murphy on the first ballot without question, and I'd imagine most folks who like baseball would be inclined to agree with me.

But can the Murph make it into Cooperstown? Using Bill James' formulas, his Black Ink score is 31, his Gray Ink score is 147, and his Hall of Fame Monitor is 116, all above the HoF average. Statistically, he should be getting his speech ready.

The catch? He's been eligible for the Hall for 13 years, and never cracked 25 percent. He's all but guaranteed his 5% to stay on the ballot, but he's likely to give Blyleven a run for his money as a perennial also-ran.

Do I believe his numbers are good enough? Hell yes.

Do I believe he makes a great ambassador for the game? Hell yes.

Do I think he will get in during my lifetime? Hell... maybe?

To Hell With Cooperstown, They Belong To The Hall Of Fame Of My Heart