Another time

I love the game. Recently, my high school counselor surprised me on a visit to my high school with an early Christmas gift. He had spoken to me before I graduated about this rare photo he had in his possession. I didn't get to hear much of it, but being a pure fan of the game, of course, I was intrigued. It passed without me learning more. This past Friday, I stopped by on a visit. He told me he had something for me, and that I had actually saved him postage.

It turned out, he had planned on mailing me a reprint of a photograph. It was of Christy Mathewson, the Hall of Fame pitcher, one of the best to ever play for the Giants. I thanked him endlessly for it and returned home to frame it, only to stare at it for a good half an hour.

It's not worth much, being a reprint. It's not an original, and there are probably a few other duplicates out there as well. But, I love it more than almost any other baseball object in my possession. It's beautiful. I love the history of the game, and this is just a piece of it. Nothing before this had connected me to the past. These were the New York Giants of the early 1900s. I am a proud fan today, sharing a baseball memory of my favorite team with others.

It's not just a photograph, though. To me, it is a symbol of an entire era, my symbol. The era of baseball before sluggers, steroids and super-agents. A time where money had nothing to do with it, where grit and hustle were applauded. The time where winter was not the off-season, but rather the time where players took a second job. They played cause they loved the game; I watch because I love the game. That's what this photograph is: the game.

Frustration

This off-season has been absolutely entertaining. No other words could describe the events that have taken place recently. It's fascinating to know that super-agent Scott Boras is not having the greatest effect on the events transpiring, nor are the Yankees who are back to their great spending habits of old, which they gave up for a good year and a half, but that the national economic crisis is potentially the most devastating on the free agent market and propective signees this off-season.

While it is clear the Yankees don't seem heavily affected by the drastic downturn, it is evident in almost all the rest of the league. November, naturally and commonly the most active signing month, was as dormant as a grizzly in the winter. An ESPN blogger recently commented saying that January may be this year's November. None of the players know how much money is truly out there. With the exception of the Yankees, a sure thing is no more.

Mark Teixiera with what seems to be one suitor left in the market, still has not signed. The Angels are the only publicly declared team still interested in Teixiera. Boston claims to have pulled out of the running citing an absurd price tag; the Orioles, never serious bidders, were done weeks ago.

Yet, why has he not signed?

I believe it's simply because of this time of economic turmoil. The Red Sox more than have enough to bid for Teixeira and in any other off-season, Teixiera maybe exchanging his sunglasses for a snowcap, preparing for his presentation to Boston. But, Boston is wary of spending. If their fans don't have the money to buy season tickets, slowly becoming evident in the diminishing renewal requests for season ticket holder slots, where are the teams going to make enough money to pay for the superstars? The team may wind up with a fat contract, diminishing overall income and a future inability to make similar off-season moves. In my opinion, Boston knows this, Boras knows this, the Angels know this and clearly Teixeira, as shown by his actions, knows this. They have the money, and are just unwilling to spend it, not unlike the American people.

For the love of the game IV

This summer, during the Beijing Olympics, I will root, not for a man or a woman, but for a team. It would have been easy to cheer on record-chasing Michael Phelps, scantily clad Misty May or Kerri Walsh or I could have chosen to cheer on the so-far impressive “Redeem team.” But I won’t. I choose to cheer for Team USA, the baseball team.

Made up of young minor leaguers and prospects, our team will try to dethrone reigning gold-medalist Cuba. To me, though, I want to root for this team not because this is my favorite sport, but because this may be the last chance, I get to see this sport in the Olympics. The IOC voted to eliminate the game along with softball from the 2012 London Olympics, a move that I don’t agree with but understand.

The loss will not be as significant, mostly in part because the every three-year World Baseball Classic competition will take its place as the major international baseball competition. In addition, the WBC will give a chance for major leaguers to appear on the international stage. (Because it’s baseball season, and money beckons, all major leaguers stay with their parent clubs through the Olympics.) The absence of the best players in the world only lessens the importance of the event and subtract from what is one of the missions of the Olympics: a showcase of the best athletic talent in the world.

However, I disagree with the decision for a few reasons. For most of these players, winning a gold medal will be their only shot at success in their careers. For most of these players, they will never make the majors, Kurt Ainsworth for example. But on the other hand, it can showcase the young prospects who will make a statement in the future, Ben Sheets for example. It gives us the chance to the best the US can possibly offer. Most importantly, I don’t think this sport can be dismissed for the simple reason that it is a world sport. Not only is the game popular in the Caribbean and most of Latin America, not only is the game American at it’s heart, but the sport is developing in all Asian countries, Japan, Taiwan, China and the Koreas.

If for nothing else, keep the sport, because it’s just that, a legitimate sport.

For the love of the game III

I have a fetish. I have spent well over $1200 to satisfy my desires. I sneak away at lunch breaks to visit stores that sell these items. I spend nights in my room staring at them, feeling them and dreaming about them. I have boxes of them and hide them from my parents.

The fetish is with little pieces of cardboard paper, plastic and ink.

I love baseball cards.

Ever since my cousin first gave me her box of old, worn baseball cards, I have been a very avid collector and enjoyer of the hobby. However, it’s different for me. I simply collect for the fun of it. I do check the prices on the cards and occasionally I’ll be deluded enough to consider myself a serious dealer. (My modest collection hovers around $750 in value) But, I know my limits and I won’t spend more than a certain amount of money each time I visit The Strike Zone, a small card shop in Novato.

This small hole in the wall is the only place where I buy cards. The owner, John Yon, is a genial man whose lived in the Bay Area all his life. He has rows of collectibles, signed jerseys, paintings, cases of cards of every sport, individual cards on display and his finest memorabilia welcomes each new customer. Every time I visit, I ask him what the newest and hottest stuff that he has is. It’s always the same reply.

“It’s all about what you like and what type of collector you are,” he tells me.

I think about it every time, but it’s always the same result. I collect to get closer to the game of baseball. I tell him, if his store were in San Francisco, I’d spend every hour of free time I had simply staring at his collections. I know then, it’s not about the cards, it’s about immersing myself further into my favorite sport. So, while I spend what my mom calls “wasted money,” I collect to enjoy the game and the cards themselves because of my love for baseball.

In the future, I hope to expand my collection. I want to be able to proudly display my best and priciest cards in a glass case in my home when I grow older. But, it will always be about the game, never about the money.

For the love of the game II

It sits on my bed stand in an airtight glass container. Late at night, just before I go to bed, I take a glance at it and smile. Nothing brings me more instantaneous happiness than this object. It is a round cork covered in yarn and wool fibers with a leather covering held together with 108 stitches of red-waxed cotton. On it are two blue stamps, one the Major League Baseball insignia, the other, a stamp authenticating the item by Commissioner Bud Selig.

The most important thing among this random collection of raw materials is a scribbling made in a black sharpie marker, practically illegible save for a small number 55. It is Tim Lincecum’s autograph, and it both was a fun adventure acquiring it and quite the revelation to me.

It was the Giants 2008 Fanfest. I had told myself all winter that I was going to go. It was my last spring in San Francisco, and my last chance to catch one of these events since I had not been to one since 1997. It was a big event. The Giants were going to be a bad team and the only way to bring people out to the event was to draw them with big names. In years past, most marquee names would stay away, but this year, rookie phenom Tim Lincecum, the Giants’ ace pitcher would be there, along with Matt Cain.

The morning of the event, I called my friend several times. He didn’t pick up and assuming his parents had grounded him, I decided not to wait and find out. I was out in front of the park with over an hour before the event began.

Unfortunately, the line had already wrapped around pretty far. Sneaking into line, I decided to go over my gameplan until the gates opened.

I was aiming for these two pitchers: Cain and Lincecum. I would NOT stop for anyone else or anything else on the way. So, as the usher pried open the squeaky monstrous gates, the lines began moving and people started storming in.

I knew what I wanted and I was going to get it. There were several stands lined up for players to sign cards, baseballs and anything else. I started from one and worked all the way around. None of the signs said what I wanted to see. Finally, after having walked all the way around the park, passing all the long lines and all the booths, I arrived at the centerfield area. The Make-A-Bear workshop had been transformed into an autograph station. I checked the sign and immediately stood in line. Half an hour of waiting later, I was staring a short, skinny boy of a man with a mop on his head next to a big, built southerner, Lincecum and Cain.

I handed Cain one of his cards to sign.

“Dude, it looks like I have makeup on…” he joked. I laughed.

Next, I gave Lincecum a baseball that I had caught from a game. He signed it and proceeded to roll it back to me.

I stuttered and mumbled something about how good he was going to be this year.

He smiled and said, “Nice to meet you, bro.”

The rest of the day was a blur. I skipped lunch and walked around listening to players talk and watching interviews.

I got home that night and went over the day’s events with my friend who couldn’t go. After finishing the description, he asked what it was like to be that close to those players.

“Dude, they’re so normal,” I replied to him.

It was true. They were just as human as the rest of us. I realized how crazy the whole day actually was. I waited an hour outside gates, ran around a baseball park and stood in line for nearly an hour to have two people scribble on a card and a ball. It was absurd; they were both only about five years older than me.

While that put things in a bit of a better perspective for me, each time I look at the autographs I smile and say to myself, “But this is just a part of the game. And I love the game.”

Peavy vs. Webb

Jake Peavy is better than Brandon Webb

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I feel like we need to have a full out debate on this issue. I think there is a clear difference between the two pitchers and in my opinion; I think Peavy is a much better pitcher, though I can see the other side. At this point, I want to present my argument on why Peavy is better than Webb is.

Clearly, over their respective careers, Peavy has been a much more dominant pitcher in any given season, save 2006, the year he started playing in the World Baseball Classic. Since his rookie season, not once has Webb been able to keep his ERA under 3.00 or his lgERA under 4.40. Peavy has accomplished both with significant margins twice under 2.60 ERA and 3.90 lgERA, again save for 2006. Both have held ERA+s of over 130 three times, but Peavy tops Webb in strikeouts by 123 percent while issuing walks at a five percent lower rate in their careers.

Also, if you take the years in which they won their Cy Young awards, respectively, you will notice, Peavy was much more dominant, and if it were not for the WBC, Peavy may have given Webb a very significant run for his money in 2006.

In 2007, Peavy was able to hold his ERA under 2.00 until late June and not once did his ERA spike to over 2.50 until the last game of the season. Webb, meanwhile was over 2.00 after his second game pitched and never returned to below 2.00. In addition, beginning in late August and carrying into September, Webb’s ERA hovered around 3.00.

If you believe ERA is an overrated stat, consider this: Peavy dominated in both 2006 and 2007 when comparing sabermetric stats. (2006 was an aberration, yet when paired with 2007, his stats are very comparable to Webb’s) Peavy in 2006-2007 had 21 games in which his WPA (which calculates win probability of player, a negative number means the player hurt the team’s chances of winning) was a negative percentage, with nine of those being less than -10 percent. Webb on the other hand, had 26, with six being less than 10 percent. When you consider that 2006 and 2007’s NL West was decided by a total of 1.5 games, (tied one year, 1.5 games back of AZ for SD last season) it is a significant difference and the stat can show how many games the player cost a team.

Furthermore, in 2007, Peavy had a total average game score (Bill James stat for evaluating success of a pitcher’s start) of 62, a K/BB of 3.53 and an OPS of .584, while Webb had 58, 2.69 and .630.

Next I’d compare the repitoire of both pitchers and this is where I’d like input from Arizona fans. I don’t have the best grasp of Webb outside of his sinker, but from what I understand, he doesn’t throw other pitches often, as he has no need for them. However, Peavy can depend on four pitches, yet throws his fastball in line with league averages (61 percent of the time) while he throws his strikeout pitch, the slider 33 percent of the time. His slider and change-up are on average about ten mph slower than his fastball, and this is what makes him so deadly. The change-up he throws breaks in the opposite direction of his slider with very late deception. At the same time, his slider varies from a sharp cut across horizontally and a more slurve action slider. With so many directions and variations on a pitch that may come out looking identical, it is very hard to adjust to Peavy. Throw that in with his 95-97 mph fastball, I feel like it could top anything Webb has to offer.

Coming in for a crash landing

Roger Clemens is one of the most decorated and the most respected pitchers of all-time. Unfortunately, his name was connected to the steroid scandal of his era. It is an unfortunate occurrence because, in my mind, he is without a doubt the best pitcher of the '90s and early '00s.

In my esteem, he holds the same place as Barry Bonds. With the revelation of steroids, I no longer feel I can compare him outside of his time. By being connected to this issue, he is now only comparable within a certain time frame, and that time frame is the steroids era. Had he not been connected to this issue, he would hold a place with all the greats of the game, and his numbers in such an offense-centered time, would without a doubt have placed him in contention for the greatest of all-time. At this point, however, I must take a step back and in realizing that he is a byproduct of the science of this time, he doesn't deserve comparison to the greats of the 20's and the like. His connection to the discussion of HGH and the like has already tainted his name in a comparison with the greats, however, he still holds a place as the greatest of his time, just as Bonds does. He dominated the mound and the batter's box well into his 40s. In a time when the homerun is king, he did his best on the mound to be truly great. This era will be remembered for the new homerun king and the prolific power years, but he stands out as one of the greatest pitchers of all the players to come from this time.


The question of whether or not he took steroids is a completely separate issue. I fail to trust Brian Mcnamee so at this point, I do not believe he took steroids. Mcnamee's past includes troubles with the law and perjury in criminal cases. I find that this tarnishes his reputation and the amount of trust I place in his word. In addition, Clemens' phone conversation revealed to me that he did not really have a strong conviction in what he believed happened in those locker rooms. However, reporters like CBS's Mike Wallace are right when questioning what Mcnamee actually has to gain from leaking his name, and saying that it is possible he is only doing this to clear his conscience, in which case, Clemens is the liar. From what I know of the case, I don't think Clemens has taken steroids, but there is always room and time for shocking revelations.

Venezuelan Ozzie also a musician and artist

I watch the game of baseball to be thrilled. I take each play as part of the entire experience and the sport never lets me down. Excitement rages through each and every game. Every second of the game can produce something magical; each player can turn ordinary into extraordinary. One of the most exciting players in the game, one of the most talented to ever play, Omar Vizquel can make the impossible, the possible and the ordinary, the incredible.

Every time I see a Giants game, wherever I sit, Omar is always a focus of mine. I know if I take my eyes off the game, I could miss a play that can only cement himself even more as the greatest shortstop to play the game. Nothing is out of his range. His creativity turns impossibility into just another night. He never seems to lose a throw to a speedy runner. Never panicking, he beats all base runners by the same half-step, over and over again. He has it all in his arsenal. The backhand pick, the barehand pick and the glovestop make the game look good. Turning two has never been more of a piece of artwork before. Laying out on crushed brick and backhanding the ball never looked better. Sprinting full steam into the shallow outfield and then pirouetting and slinging the ball across his body to get the runner at first was never more exciting. His footwork is quick, his dives effortless. No wasted motion or energy seems to come out of his play. Everything has a purpose, to get the runner.

He makes baseball beautiful by playing his position the way it's supposed to be played. His glovework is incredible. He has hands that one can only describe as heavenly. At times, it seems to me like he plays without a glove, the fielding, the transition and the throw. The fluidity is beautiful. He is as graceful as a ballet dancer and as elegant as a ballroom dancer. Unselfish, team-oriented and damn good. I'd pay money to see him play.

Overlooking the Dominican Dandy

Juan Marichal, for all his esteemed accomplishments, the great numbers he has set, may be underrated for a hall of famer, if there is such a thing.

Often overlooked during his career for certain awards, he took it all in stride and continued to dominate the NL West despite heavy competition from the great Sandy Koufax. Many don't consider him one of the greatest pitchers of all-time let alone one of the greatest post-world war II pitchers. His high leg kick was often surpassed by the feats of Bob Gibson, Nolan Ryan and Roger Clemens during the 1950s and afterwards. Because he pitched during a very deadball era and pitched during the same years as the intimidating Gibson and the much praised Koufax, Marichal never won Cy Youngs and often lost out in postseason races to the Cardinals.

Upon closer inspection, his stats were as good as Gibson's and his demeanor on the mound, equally intimidating. When asked whether to face one or the other, the choice is impossible. Both were known not to take anything from anyone. Due to rough luck, he was always one to finish runner-up in any sort of race. He lost six times in close Cy Young races, thrice to the Dodger lefty, once to Dean Chance, once to the Cardinal great and once to the Met, Tom Seaver. He was never able to come away with the trophy. I think it must have been very tough for him to always finish behind someone else. It takes not only courage to continue working without ever being truly rewarded, but persistence and determination. His grittiness also shows me he played the game because he loved it and enjoyed it, not letting second-place be a deterrent. His devotion to the game is missing in many players today.

As such, with the lack of hardware to prove his feats, many don't consider him to be on par with some of the greatest of all-time. Rest assured, in my opinion, he is. Often considered second string to others in estimation in the Hall of Fame, his high leg kick will always be considered one of the best in my thoughts.

For the love of the game

To save the game of baseball from its current state, full of players on steroids, it will require players to take it on themselves to clean the game. These players make millions upon millions of dollars. They need to play the game, the way it was meant to be played. Today's players are lazy, resort to cheating and petty demands for an extra 30 million dollars to satisfy themselves. Anyone doing this for a career should be happy enough with the job they have. They are doing what millions of kids can only imagine of doing for life. They play a game that is part of American culture and are a privileged few.

A player today needs to show grit, determination and full effort whenever they step on the diamond. Any less is an insult to those watching and the fans who truly enjoy the game. Players like Alex Rodriguez, while he did work out a contract outside of Scott Boras, are being paid yet often fail to hustle and show the sportsmanship. Americans give these players the right to play the game. We watch them and let them entertain us because of the gift of talent they have. They do not have the right to sit on the sidelines demanding money or complaining because of any faults on their team or of their teammates.

A player I admire is Grady Sizemore, a player who plays the game the right way. The sport of baseball is in lack of such talent and such heart. He plays with full effort no matter the situation and no matter the point in the season or game. You don't hear complaints or demands from this kid. He harks back to the days where guys needed to keep a second job during the offseason to stay afloat. He plays because he loves the game. He realizes he's privileged, and he plays to entertain the crowd. He dives because it's fun; he runs because he wants to make that extra effort. I'd rather have one of him than ten players of Alex Rodriguez's attitude and talent.