08 Jun 2011, by Eric
Situational -- and surprisingly topical!-- Essay today by Eric Freeman, who usually writes about the NBA for Ball Don’t Lie. Follow him on Twitter at @freemaneric.
Yesterday's big baseball news concerned Bryce Harper, all-everything prospect for the Washington Nationals currently playing for Hagerstown in the Sally League. In case you haven't seen, Harper is hitting the ever-loving fuck out of the ball, posting .342/.435/.623 averages with 14 homers, 32 walks, and 12 steals in 232 plate appearances. On Monday, Harper caused a stir after one of those homers when he watched it for about 20 seconds and mimed a kiss at the pitcher as he rounded third base.
For the most part, the play has brought Harper criticism for being an immature asshole (see here and here). That opinion is accurate in the most basic sense: only dickheads tend to show up pitchers, and Harper has a stupid mustache and nascent mullet, as well. He's baseball's version of an '80s ski movie villain, just with more natural talent than any other prospect in the minors. (In other words, he will render Colby Rasmus insignificant as soon as he puts on a big league uniform.)
Yet while Harper is clearly a jerk, he's also perhaps the most important player to come along for MLB marketing purposes since Derek Jeter (or, if you want to depress everyone, Harper's organizational teammate Stephen Strasburg). I say that not only because he's ridiculously talented, but because he's very clearly a personality. Jeff Passan gets at some of Harper's value in this excellent column for Yahoo!, which focuses on Harper's role as a villain for a sport that hasn't really had a compelling one since Barry Bonds retired. It's a good point, especially now that Alex Rodriguez has reached a point of moderate acceptance and most of the Red Sox's best players are either short or fat (i.e. stereotypically lovable).
However, I'd go farther still and say that Harper is even more important than Passan lets on precisely because he's a budding star who must be discussed in terms of what it's like to watch him play rather than just how much he produces. One side effect of the sabermetric revolution has been that most baseball stars are talked about almost exclusively in terms of their production (and rightfully so, because, well, they're awesome at the sport). That trend has been compounded by the fact that a lot of today's best hitters are stylistic vaccuums (see: Albert Pujols, Joey Votto, and Ryan Braun, to name three) incapable of being described in terms other than "steady" and "really good." The upshot of these factors is that discussion of the sport tends to shy away from treating baseball like a spectator sport and instead turns it into a confluence of events. That's not to say that people don't like watching baseball anymore; it's just that we discuss what happened without spending much energy on describing how it happened.
Harper demands stylistic discussion of his every move in a way that even Bonds didn't at his most controversial. (Bonds is an arrogant jerk, but he really pissed people off when he started threatening a beloved historical record. His personality didn't change much over the course of his career.) As Grant Brisbee said earlier today for Baseball Nation, Harper is divisive like Bonds, but the things that divide people are not tied to whether his accomplishments are tainted. He's either an asshole, a big dumb goofus, or a wrestling superstar whose first at-bat against Brian Wilson will take place at King of the Ring. No matter the opinion, Harper is discussed in the context of how we watch him play the game.
Harper has the chance to force MLB and its fans to face baseball as both an aesthetic experience and an athletic competition. Style matters to longtime fans and potential ones alike; we give exciting players like Adam Jones and Andrew McCutchen short shrift when we discuss them as producers first and as performers at a distant second. If Harper becomes a national lightning rod, he could force people to explain what they like to watch on the field instead of what they want on the stat line.
06 Jun 2011, by Eric
When I first met Clay Huntington, he was only my friend Janelle’s grandfather. He seemed like an important man. He sat in the press box at Mariners games. He drove a red Crown Victoria. He had something – I didn’t know exactly what – to do with the Mariners’ AAA team, the Tacoma Rainiers.
Now Janelle is my girlfriend. She has been for a couple of years. Clay passed away last week. He was 89 years old. If you live in Seattle and follow baseball closely, or live in Tacoma and follow local news at all, you probably heard about it. The term every obituary has used describe Clay is “civic icon.” It’s a formless phrase, but I think in this case it works. Clay’s purpose in life was defined first by his family, second by his community, and third by baseball.
It’s impossible to talk about him without talking about Tacoma, the Puget Sound, and really the entire Pacific Northwest. When I started this article, I was drinking coffee out of a cup with his face on it from some long-ago function at which he was honored. On Thursday, the Rainiers put together their own tribute to Clay. They carved CH into the dirt behind second base, they presented the family with a customized jersey, they played a video tribute and took care of everybody with a nice suite on the third base line.
Clay was Pierce County Commissioner. In 1976, he threw his hat in the ring for governor of Washington before dropping out due to low polls and sagging fundraising. Clay would have probably been a good governor – the kind of executive who finds compromises where they need to be found, runs the state efficiently, and is legitimately concerned with the well-being all of his constituents. But I’m not surprised his campaign stalled out. Clay was never one for the spotlight, and although a great advocate for causes he believed in, he lacked the requisite taste for self-promotion.
I mention Clay’s politics because they are an integral part of what he taught me. Clay was a journalist, a play-by-play man, a leading force in bringing baseball to Tacoma – and then keeping it there. He founded the Tacoma Athletic Commission and the State of Washington Sports Hall of Fame, which this year inducted Edgar Martinez and John Olerud. He was by all accounts loved and respected in the press box, the announcer’s booth, and even in the clubhouse.
His personal interests and mine lined up pretty squarely. I too love politics and baseball. I try, if not always as hard as I should, to be an active citizen. But the special thing about Clay Huntington, the thing that will stick with me, was the way he held these institutions in equal regard. To Clay, baseball was a crucial part of the fabric of the South Puget Sound. It was, if not necessary, then worth celebrating, and worth fighting for, and worth a lifetime of hard work on its own merits alone.
I sometimes struggle with this concept. I tend to write sports off as frivolous. I tend to disparage myself for spending more time reading about baseball than about the burgeoning war in Libya or about local politics or about whatever else that seems, at first glance, more weighty. Sometimes I tell myself I will only write about baseball until the time comes to write about something “more serious.” This, of course, is silly. Sports are plenty serious. They merit our attention not just as important cultural entities, but as enclosed worlds to be respected and appreciated on their own terms.
This is the lesson that Clay understood. Pursue your passions without doubt, without shame, and with a greater cause than your own ego in mind. Until the end of his life, Clay lived this. He went to work at the radio station he owned, typing away on his typewriter. He read every kind of magazine every month. What mattered was not whether he was reading The Atlantic or the Sporting News – what mattered was that he was reading at all.
05 Jun 2011, by Ted
In the last few days I have attended the 2011 NCAA Regional Playoffs at Rice University’s Reckling Park, where Rice played Akron State in the first round and Baylor in the second. Sunburned and baseball happy, these are my thoughts on Rice's star hitter and upcoming MLB draftee Anthony Rendon.
Anthony Rendon is the designated hitter. When his Rice University baseball teammates jog back to the dugout at the end of their fielding half, one of the country’s best amateur hitters greets them cheerfully, playfully spurring them on with a green towel that will eventually make its way back over his head to fight the Texas heat. Rendon's enthusiasm seems fueled by a restless desire to take the field himself, knowing that the best he can do right now is use his spare time as a cheerleader.
In the batter’s box, he is at ease in the role that best suits him. The last time I saw such relaxed hands from a Rice hitter was an evening I shared with Lance Berkman, circa 1998, when he sent a home run towards the Medical Center on a path reminiscent of the Life Flight helicopters that buzz overhead. Rendon starts by standing upright, then dramatically draws his hands back and loads up, essentially morphing his stance from one style to another before the pitch is thrown. Then, he hits the ball:
2 for 5 with an RBI on Friday against Alcorn State
2 for 4 with an RBI on Saturday against Baylor
Rendon hasn’t hit any one ball the farthest--he’s homerless in the couple of days I’ve watched him--but if you were to add up batted balls for total distance, I’m sure he’d lead the way. His outs are deep, well-struck line drives, showing the sort of loft and backspin that I can only imagine will translate nicely to wooden bat play. That, I reckon, is what the scouts see.
The kid is under some pressure. He was the only player I saw that garnered a round of applause at the mere mention of his name. He’ll likely be among the top picks in the draft. In an MLB.com article Rendon revealed a personality that contrasts the PRed up Bryce Harper and other high profile amateur players, who have already mastered sound bite dropping and cliche slinging. “I really didn't think it would be this big," Rendon said of his popularity and accompanying scrutiny over the last few years. "Honestly, I don't even want it to be that big. I just wanted to be a guy that liked to play baseball. I just wanted to be an everyday player. I didn't want to be the big name in the game that's going to take over and everybody looks at. I don't like the attention.”
Injuries have rendered him an incomplete player for the moment, a hitter alone. Any hesitation about his ability has been stirred by his injury history, letting slip the “assured first overall pick” crown that have marked the last few drafts.
Like a musician who checks in with the rock critics, Rendon reads the online chatter about his prospects at the higher levels, and perhaps unlike a musician, he works to address those points of weakness. “I know one of the writers said since I had 12 errors my freshman season that I'm not a good defender,” he said. “That got under my skin. I did take that into consideration and said, 'I've got to prove this guy and everyone else wrong.' That's why I came out my sophomore year and really worked at it and had four errors. I feel like I put an end on that note.”
One reading is that he’s too wary of criticism. Another reading is that he knows when someone is right, regardless of where it comes from. Yet another reading is that the kid isn’t oblivious to the nature of the media, and that he has a sense of the world around him. That’s a kid I draft.
"It's one more step closer to my dream," he told MLB.com in the same article, "to what I really want to do -- just play baseball and not have to worry about anything else." There’s a difference between worry and awareness.
And while he may not field, he certainly walks, and hits.
For a look at what he’s accomplished as a hitter, note that,according to ESPN: “[Rendon] won national freshman of the year honors in 2009, hitting .388 with 20 homers and 72 RBIs. Last year, he took home the Dick Howser Trophy as the national player of the year after hitting .394 with 26 homers and 85 RBIs.” This year, he’s batted .327 with just 6 home runs, a figure that, given my impressions of his swing and his sterling reputation, is the result of the new bat situation rather than a fall-off in skill. And besides, his on-base percentage is .522. He’s struck out 32 times this year, against 79 walks.
When I go to a college baseball game, or a minor league baseball game, for that matter, I want the best prospects in the game to do something cool while I’m there. Baseball, of course, doesn’t always oblige such un-baseball-like expectations. We fans are supposed to be patient, to respect probabilities and likelihoods. Often, the best you can do is try to sense a top prospect’s aura. I saw Andrew McCutcheon play for a few games in Indianapolis, for example. He didn’t hit any triples or do much else, but he had an aura. (Now, that said, an aura can be aided by a reputation, but that’s another conversation.)
Anthony Rendon didn’t hit home runs, but he hit, and that was what I wanted to see. He didn’t play the field, but he hit. He drove in runs by putting the ball in play, hard and soft. He took his walks, he didn’t give up easy outs, and he waved his towel.
Sidenote #1: As I finish this piece, the Owls lead the Cal Golden Bears in an elimination game, having lost one yesterday to the Baylor Bears. Bear bear bear.
Sidenote #2: For my money, Rice second baseman Michael Ratteree will be a name to watch in next year’s draft.
Sidenote #3: I took these pictures, though you can find lots more nice ones by other people on Flickr.
01 Jun 2011, by Eric
Eric and Ted bring on Chris Crawford of MLB Draft Insider to discuss the upcoming amateur draft, but not before a brief remembrance of Eric's online sim baseball days. Chris gives us some insight into his operation, tells us some funny scout stories, and helps us understand the important stuff like how to pronounce Rendon -- as in Anthony. Later, Ted and I discuss parkour-savvy baseball fans, home-plate collisions, and a better world in which every team as a Molina.
[podcast]http://pitchersandpoets.com/podcast/PnP_031.mp3[/podcast]
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Remember to check out Chris Crawford at MLB Draft Insider and on Twitter @CrawfordChrisV.
31 May 2011, by Ted
I sat down to watch this Memorial Day game between the Mariners and the Baltimore Orioles expecting the bizarro Ichiro that has played in place of the eponymous protagonist of this series for the last few weeks; a shadow player unable to scratch out hits and stumbling to a .163 batting average in the last 14 days. Ichiro, mired in a slump that even his singles-oriented style hasn’t busted yet, has had the worst month of his career. Geoff Baker at the Seattle Times suggested a one-game sit for Ichiro to shake him loose. Unconvinced of his mediocrity, I watched to see if the great man had indeed been normalized. I was deprived of such a vision, but I was not disappointed.
1. In his first at bat, on that sunny day in Seattle, Ichiro took four or five fastballs from Jake Arrieta, then pulled one of them--way low and in with three balls, an obvious fourth--into right field along the ground between the first and second basemen. Close on the heels of this immediately uncharacteristic success, Ichiro stole second base and made it to third when the catcher chucked it away, providing additional evidence that, for one, speed don’t slump, and that, for two, you’ve got to get on base to steal. Thirdly, working with the postulate that you don’t have to hit home runs to score with speed, Ichiro scored easily on a Brendan Ryan ground ball out.
2. His second time up, hitting with a 2-1 lead, Ichiro rapped a first pitch fastball straight back at Arrieta, sending the ball glancing off of the pitcher’s shin and into foul territory between first base and home, where it rolled to a stop, out of reach of the first baseman while Ichiro trotted through first base easily. This is the real Ichiro, not bizarro Ichiro, the expert at sending grounders into the infield like a firecracker into a sandpit, that spin and dance out of the arm’s reach like pinballs. Today, through two hitters, I’ve seen no incapable doppelgangers or waxy bobblehead dolls. Just Ichiro.
3. Ichiro took a hard sinker on the inside corner for a strike just before watching the hapless Michael Saunders get pegged out at second base on a steal attempt. The failed steal sucked the life out of the at bat, and Ichiro hit a soft liner to second base for the out.
4. Against young reliever Pedro Viola, who uses a roundhouse pitching wind-up that could've been orchestrated by Frank Viola, Ichiro showed bunt a little, took a few pitches and worked the count to 2-1 before lofting a fastball to center field. He should have hit it harder, but the team already held the lead and the Mariners closed out another one, to rise a game above .500. A .500 day for Ichiro on a .500 team. That's the Ichiro I know, if not the team.
Sidenote: I just discovered Super Ichiro Crazy!, a site by Steve Mandich devoted to the life and career of Henry Kissinger. No, no, it's an Ichiro site! Check it out, you'll find lots of great images and information about Ichiro over the years, well pre-dating my own small obsession.