A Buccaneer-full

About the only one who had a worse Sunday than Daniel McCutchen was yours truly.
I covered the Pirates’ game against the D-backs in Chase Field and, while working simultaneously on a couple of pre-game items, pretty much butchered a short on Delwyn Young making his first Major League appearance at third base.
Among these original sins (before they were corrected), I placed Aki Iwamura on the Bucs roster a year prematurely (essentially dealing for him from Tampa Bay a year before the real GM, Neal Huntington, did) and cast Andy LaRoche as a first baseman.
I had more egg on my face than a guy having a really hard time in an egg-catching contest.
All the Bucs fans who blasted and lampooned my reportorial skills on the Pirates were right-on.
Mea culpa, and apologies Pirates Nation.
The worst part about the warranted criticism of my Bucs boners?
Contrary to the perception, I know and dearly love the Bucs. My baseball DNA includes having been the biggest Pirate fan on the planet during the years I was growing up in Pittsburgh. I felt like I slighted my own baseball heritage.
Daniel McCutchen will get over it. Maybe I will, too.

For Red Sox & Yanks, faster is better

The length of Red Sox – Yankees games has generated a lot of controversial talk lately. Players on those teams generally attribute the slow pace to their styles of disciplined play. Working deep counts to their advantage is a big part of their success formulas.
But does it pay for them to also play deep into the night? The answer might surprise you.
In games lasting longer than 3 hours and 20 minutes (an arbitrarily-chosen benchmark), the Yankees last season were 31-25.
Under the same conditions, the Red Sox were 27-17.
Meaning, both the Yankees (72-34) and Red Sox (68-50) were actually more successful in quicker games.
Thought you might like to know. I know Joe West does.

On a Clear day, you could laugh forever

I was very saddened to hear of the passing of Bob Clear, the longtime Angels coach and uncle of the closer for the franchise’s first AL West title team in 1979, Mark Clear.
Bob Clear, claimed by heart problems at 82, was a jovial baseball throwback whom everyone affectionately called Bobaloo. Not sure where the nickname originated; perhaps it derived from the nightclub of a sitcom icon of Clear’s generation — Ricky Ricardo, of “I Love Lucy” fame, and Club Babalu.
At any rate, Clear enjoyed being the butt of a joke manager Gene Mauch would frequently pull on unsuspecting baseball writers who prided themselves on their knowledge of the game.
“Is that right?” Mauch would begin. “Well, then, can you name the four Alous who have appeared in the big leagues?”
The three Alou brothers who were contemporaries — and one time appeared together in the Giants’ outfield — were well-known: Felipe, Matty and Jesus.
But no one could name the fourth. After a suitably long pause, Mauch would point down the bench and say dryly:
“Bobaloo … “
Never failed to get a laugh, as corny as it now seems.
RIP, Bobaloo … 

Bowa hospitalized

Dodgers coach Larry Bowa had to be rushed to a local hospital due to abdominal pains during Friday’s exhibition game with the Cincinnati Reds.

Bowa was admitted to Banner Estrella Hospital, where he was being examined by Dr. Kenneth Landis, the Dodgers’ team physician.

The 64-year-old Bowa is the Dodgers’ regular third-base coach but was seen leaving the field at Camelback Ranch in the middle ofr the game.

Oops, Bengie did it again

Bengie Molina is trapped in his personal “Groundhog Day.” On screen, Bill Murray doesn’t get the girl. On the free-agency trail, Bengie doesn’t get … it.
Yes, that’s it, he just doesn’t seem to get it. Bengie navigates free agency as if it was a cobblestone street strewn with banana peels.
Coming off his finest offensive season for the Angels back in 2005, the two-time American League Gold Glove catcher hit the market selling hard, looking for a three-year deal commensurate with his established reputation. Molina has that quiet confidence easy to mistake for humility. The big demands hidden behind that veneer turned off a lot of suitors.
Molina remained on that market until February, when he signed a one-year deal with Toronto — for $4.5 million.
Yes, the exact figure he just accepted, four years later, from the Giants. He also took a similar path back to the Bay, having hit the market looking for a three-year contract, then gradually easing up on his expectations. He had been primarily locked in with the Mets who — doubtless recalling the 2006 experience — waited for Molina to come around to taking one year with an option.
Bengie’s new at-bat music in AT&T Park has to be “Oops, I Did It Again.” That would replace Springsteen’s “Born To Run.”

In Cooperstown, there are no slam dunks

Some people never learn.
Referring to Chipper Jones, a lead writer for a respected national Web site this morning throws away the line that the Braves third baseman is “likely headed to Cooperstown when his career ends.”
That comment appeared less than 24 hours after baseball writers had again proven to be unblinking sentries in front of the Hall of Fame. Daily journalism is littered with future-Hall-of-Famer-this and headed-to-Cooperstown-that, but time and again we see that it ain’t easy sneaking through baseball’s pearly gates.
In the myopic prism of his era, Jones is a terrific player.
His career card entering the 2010 season, which will be his 16th:
.307 average with 426 homers, 1,145 RBIs, 7-time All-Star.
Here are some other sets of numbers:
(a) .312-309-1,261 and 7-time All=Star.
(b) .290-339-1,493 and 7-time All-Star.
(c) .288-399-1,425 and 5-time All-Star.
(d) .284-493-1,550 and 5-time All-Star.
(e) .265-398-1,266 and 7-time All-Star.
Pretty comparable, huh? The point? None of the five belonging to those numbers made the Hall of Fame on the most recent ballot. None even came close.
In order, they were (a) Edgar Martinez, (b) Dave Parker), (c) Andres Galarraga, (d) Fred McGriff and (e) Dale Murphy. Combined, they received 478 votes — or slightly more than the 420 which made Andre Dawson the year’s lone selectee.
In fact, Galarraga, didn’t even make the 5 percent cut required to remain on the ballot for next winter’s election.
This is not to pass judgment on Chipper or his future chances, only on those who too lightly wield Cooperstown-knighting swords. 

Been there, seen that – Unit edition

Randy Johnson’s retirement again hits the reset button on my personal perspective machine. Iconic athletes retire, you feel older, your appreciation grows for the life you’ve led.
That’s one of the wonderful things about the privilege of being a chronicler of sports and its personalities. There is no shortage of milestones on this yellow brick road.
The Big Unit and I spun in parallel orbits for nearly a quarter century, crossing paths only occasionally. This held true down to the finish.
On Sept. 22, I got to witness the last time Johnson struck out the side. It came in a one-inning relief appearance against the Diamondbacks in Chase Field, three subsequent relief outings from the end of his line.
Pretty significant, considering how many times the fearsome lefty fanned the side in his 4,135 innings. But it falls way short of other occasions where history and I happened to intersect — Johnson’s retirement is just another excuse for reflecting on them.
For instance, I am positive to have been the only person to have been on site for — not to mention the only reporter to have covered — each of these:
  • Nolan Ryan’s last five strikeouts. 

Came in seven four-hit innings against the Angels on Sept. 17, 1993 — five days before he tore an elbow ligament and walked off the Kingdome mound without having retired any Mariners, never to return. This was four years after the end of my newspaper career and into my decade as a magazine freelancer, but I was covering the game for The Associated Press.

  • Hank Aaron’s last home run.

Came on July 20, 1976 in Milwaukee’s County Stadium, in the seventh inning off Dick Drago. I just happened to be there, making a trip in relief of the Los Angeles Herald Examiner’s Angels beat writer, Dick Miller. Then Aaron just happened to play his next, and last, 24 games without again going deep, leaving the new magic number at 755.

  • Aaron’s 715th home run.
The one that broke Babe Ruth’s record. April 8, 1974 … Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium … fourth inning, off Al Downing. In my first full year on the Herald staff, beloved sports editor Bud Furillo assigned me to accompany legendary baseball writer Bob Hunter on the Dodgers’ first roadtrip of the season, with the expectancy of history in the air.
  • Barry Bonds’ 756th homer.
 The one that broke the record I’d seen Aaron set 33 years earlier. August 7, 2007 … AT&T Park … fifth inning, off Mike Bacsik. I was assigned there by MLB.com earlier in the week, with instructions to hang until BB slew the record. My vigil was a lot briefer than that of the other BB in this equation — Barry Bloom.
Not a bad confluence of a forgettable man and unforgettable moments. 

When being a fan was tough

I have become my father. No, not in terms of sprouting hair in the oddest places. And I don’t make a cacophony of weird bodily noises.
But I can drop some let-me-tell-you-how-tough-I-had-it admonitions. That’s life in the fast-forward lane: One minute you’re Generation X, the next it’s Generation Ex-Lax.
Kids, let me give you two examples of my childhood hardships, neither of which involved walking a mile through two feet of snow to school (anyone ever really do that? By six inches, wouldn’t school just get cancelled?) but did deal with my life’s wellspring.
That, of course, would be baseball. Tommy Lasorda used to say he bled Dodger Blue, but I got him trumped. Every time I have a blood test, it comes up Type BB.
Anyway … growing up in Pittsburgh, this used to be my most exciting time of the year. Filled with anticipation, fueled by imagination, warmed by daydreams.
And do you know why? Because, just like clockwork, the first baseball preview magazines would hit the newsstands the first Tuesday after New Year’s. I could see the green light at the end of the winter tunnel. After months without absolutely any baseball news, Street & Smith’s and Sports Illustrated would soon line the shelves of the Squirrel Hill Newsstand, with Mickey Mantle or Sandy Koufax on the cover.
Wire-wrapped CARE packages against the famine would be neatly stacked outside the closed store in the wee hours as I’d make my detoured way back to school. I’d just happen to have a wire cutter, and extract an issue from the stack. I’d have it devoured by the time I made my way home and stopped at the stand to pay for it.
Now, kids, you get baseball 24/7/365, with MLB.com, the MBL Network and an Internet of blogs and boards which anoints anyone with an I.P. address a news source. There is no down cycle, no dearth, no withdrawal. Baseball warmth round-the-clock, no wire cutter required.
The Way We Were, No. 2: I changed coasts after graduation to attend college at UCLA, a stimulating environment in a great location. A few turns from the beach, across the street from Bel-Air, at the mind-expanding intersection of Timothy Leary and Bill Walton.
One problem: It was 2,200 miles from my beloved Pirates.
So I bought a mail subscription to the Pittsburgh Press. It would be in my mailbox three days later, which made it an old-news paper. But it had to do as my only connection to Clemente, Alley, Virdon and my crib, Forbes Field.
Now you got streams of your favorite team’s games, no matter where it is playing and where you are, not to mention bottomless sources of instant information. Team news are in your e-mailbox like now.
We’re living in amazing times. Don’t take it for granted.
But with six inches of snow on the ground, school still gets cancelled.

Johnson. Vazquez. Really?

The Yankees’ last two moves elicited the same reaction from the chorus. “Really?”
Not so much because they brought back two alums, although the Yankees have never been known for recycling players. But let’s look at the fine print.
The interesting thing about choosing (in a sense) the left-handed bat of Nick Johnson over that of Johnny Damon is that the Yanks replaced one of the most durable players of all time with one of his generation’s most fragile.
In fact, should Johnson produce enough Reggie-like heroics to get a candy bar named after him, I’m pretty sure it will have the word “brittle” in it, like “peanut brittle.”
Damon has played 140-plus games for 14 straight seasons — and the only others in baseball history to have done that are Pete Rose, Brooks Robinson, Willie Mays and Hank Aaron.
Frail Nick has never had a 140-game season. To paraphrase him, “Ouch!”
As for the return of Javier Vazquez … well, guess that points to Joe Torre as the one who had issues with him the first time around.
The Yankees picked up Vazquez in a December 2003 deal with Montreal, thought enough of him to give him the ball on Opening Day in Yankee Stadium — and matters quickly soured after that.
The prevailing perception became that Vazquez lacked the guts to pitch in the Bronx and that the Yankees couldn’t wait to shed him — which they did in January 2005 — one year after having signed him to a four-year deal for $45 million.
Vazquez now comes back to the same ownership, the same GM, some of the same teammates — but a different manager.
By the way, the player dealt to the Expos for Vazquez six years ago? Nick Johnson.

Talking turkey – but not with the Indians!

Just to be on the safe side, if I were a GM, I wouldn’t  swing any deals today with any team named “Indians” or “Braves.” … 
If you’re a pitching-shopping Theo Epstein weighing trade vs. free agent options, you have to give a lot of consideration to this:
  • Roy Halladay versus the Yankees: 18-6 with a 2.84 ERA.
  • John Lackey versus the Yankees: 3-7 with a 5.25 ERA.
Free-agent Alex Gonzalez signing with the Blue Jays — could be the first step in them “swapping” shortstops with the Red Sox, who are keen on Marco Scutaro. … 
Of course Boston is changing shortstops. The next mystery guest — Scutaro or whoever — will be the Red Sox’s seventh different Opening Day shortstop in eight years. Didn’t Simon & Garfunkel sing, “Where have you gone, Nomar, a lonely Red Sox Nation turns its eyes to you … “
Got a chuckle out of Wally Beckman’s declaration upon being named the Brooklyn Cyclones’ manager that, “No bones about it, my ultimate goal is to manage in the Major Leagues someday again.” Again, as in beyond the four  days in November 2004 that he had the job, before the Arizona Diamondbacks changed their mind? …