Realm of the Wombat

Old Jere: “I hope Jimmy Rollins tears an ACL at the bottom of that pile.”

New Jere: “Pitchers and catchers report in ~100 days.”

On Monday night, Dad and I went to see the Astros play the Cubs at Wrigley. There was little offense, with only two runs scored and few scoring chances. The pitching was fair, but not dominant. No exciting defensive plays were made. Lou Pinella didn’t even get into an argument.

And it was the most memorable game I’ve ever been to.

I was negligent in checking the time of the game, so we didn’t realize that ESPN moved the start time to 6:00, an hour earlier than we expected. Fortunately, we were planning to show up early, so we only missed half an hour, but in that time, one of the two runs was scored, as the Astros took a 1-0 lead in the first inning. A bit disappointed, we settled into our seats in the upper deck along side Cubs fans dressed up for 70’s night. The Astros tacked on a run in the 4th via a walk with the bases loaded. Meanwhile, the Cubs couldn’t solve the riddle that was Houston pitcher Brian Moehler, but we figured it was only a matter of time.

That time never came though. In the top of the sixth, the sky darkened and flashed from lightning in the distance. It started to rain lightly. Within a couple minutes though, the rain intensified while the time between the thunder and lightning decreased. The umpires called for the groundscrew to put the tarp on the field. Fans in the expensive seats ran to the concourse, while the die-hards in the bleachers refused to give up their prime general admission seats. Eventually, with the lightning strikes becoming more frequent, security cleared the bleachers and lower deck entirely. People in the upper deck looked around with dry satisfaction. That is, until the wind picked up, making no seat safe from the water. Pools of water built up on the warning track both in the outfield and behind home plate. A waterfall sprouted on top of the press box and showered the seats below. In addition to ambulance and fire engine sirens, tornado warning sirens rang out for more than half an hour.

We finally moved from our seats toward the press box to stay a little drier. Some other fans were getting restless, as two ran on the field to use the giant impromptu slip and slide. In addition to his water sliding, one of these took 70’s night very seriously, as he was dressed in an impeccable Elvis costume. The crowd loved the performance, but security didn’t, chasing him down and roughing him up.

After about two hours, the rain relented enough to let the grounds keepers work on the field. After clearing out the drains from debris, the water on the warning track dissipated. The water on the tarp was dumped into left field and squeegeed into the new outfield drainage system. At 10:20, 2 hours and 45 minutes after the stoppage, the game resumed.

With less than half the attendance remaining, Dad and I moved to the front section of the upper deck. Strangely, the atmosphere felt more intimate somehow with so few people in the crowd. It felt like you could have a conversation with anyone in the park, whether in the stands, on the field, or in the press box.

Our new location also put us in prime position for foul balls from left handed batters. I didn’t have a glove with me, so I decided that if a ball came our way, I’d try to catch it in my hat. Sure enough, with Kosuke Fukudome at the plate in the 7th inning, he slashed a foul ball toward our section. I grabbed my hat off my head. It was coming right toward me. I lined it up. And missed it. Even in a pinch, a hat is no substitute for a glove.

(FYI, the ball landed under my seat. I tossed it to a kid that was sitting a few rows behind us. The nearby fans gave me some applause for the generosity, and that made up for the indignity of missing the catch.)

It was getting late, but the game was moving along quickly. A few distant lightning strikes lit up the sky occasionally. Then in the bottom of the eighth, there was a crash that seemed just outside the stadium. Astros first baseman Lance Berkman ran three-quarters of the way to the dugout. After a pause, where everyone on the field appeared to just look at each other without knowing what to do, the field was cleared again. Even though there was only lightning, the tarp went back on the field. It turned out to be a smart decision, because within a few minutes, the rain was back, even more severe than before. Everyone in the stadium was forced down to the concourse. Again, it was a good decision, because the lightning was also more severe. The ramps from the upper deck became rivers. Any small leak in the old ballpark was revealed.

We waited patiently on the concourse. Partly, we wanted to see the end of the game, but probably more realistically, we weren’t going to leave the dry Wrigley concourse for a walk through the downpour. It turned out that we had seen the end of the game, as after another 40 minutes, the game was called.

We walked outside, and the rain stopped.

So to review, the official time of the game was 2:19 (thirty minutes of which we didn’t see), and the unofficial time of rain delays was 3:25. It was awesome.

White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf recently conducted an informal survey of his team’s fans. Here’s what he has to report:

“I’ve asked a lot of White Sox fans: ‘If given the choice of both teams in the playoffs or neither team being in the playoffs, what would you pick?’ The answer is usually neither, because, ‘I can’t take the chance the Cubs might win.’ And these are from some fairly intelligent people.” [Tribune article]

I think that rationale is the antithesis of intelligent, but such are the White Sox.

#1, Little League Division:
Occasionally in non-professional games, a pitch will be thrown above or behind the batter, and the ball will incidentally hit the bat and land in foul territory. This is seen as a lucky break for the pitcher, as the pitch was destined to be called a ball, but instead goes as a strike, without the batter swinging at the pitch. However, at a recent little league game in Ohio, a pitch was thrown behind the batter that hit the bat and landed in fair territory. Most everyone at the field believed it was a foul ball. Fortunately, that population did not include the umpire who, after several seconds of silence, informed the 9-11 year old players that the ball was in play. The batter reached first, completely unintentionally obtaining a single.

#1, MLB Division:
Felix Hernandez is a 22 year old pitcher for the Seattle Mariners. He made his debut at age 19 and is expected to be one of the best pitchers of this generation. However, playing in the American League, he has few opportunities to take a turn at bat. In fact, he only has two hits in his career. (It’s also likely that he had no hits in the minor leagues.) The first came on June 10, 2007, when he reached first safely on a bunt that was presumably meant to sacrifice a runner to second base. The second hit came on Monday night, facing Johan Santana, the best pitcher in baseball over the last 5+ years, at Shea Stadium, a park that supressed home runs by 10% in the 2007 season. In the second inning, Hernandez came to the plate, with two outs and the bases loaded; there was no chance he would be bunting. Instead, the budding superstar hit a fastball, later described by Santana as out of the strike zone, over the right-center fence for a grand slam.

And that, my friends, is what happened on my last visit to Shea Stadium.

Joe Morgan is the analyst for ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball. ESPN must consider him an expert to give him this job. His responsibilities include following baseball games and news and providing intelligent commentary. He does none of these things. Consider the following exchange from last Tuesday’s chat on ESPN.com:

Lee (NYC): Joe, thanks for taking my question. I am a Yankee fan but I have always been a huge Willie Randolph fan. I feel that Willie Randolph has nothing to do with the mess the Mets are in. Shouldn’t Omar Minaya take most of the blame? He put this team together.

Joe Morgan: He has to take his share of the blame for putting the team together, but the manager usually takes the blame first. If Willie is fired, the focus will go to the GM. If he stays, the focus will stay on him. But it would be that way in other cities too. The Mariners are way under .500, for instance, but no one is criticizing the GM, they’re looking at the manager.

I’m guessing that the average fan in Kansas City or Houston doesn’t know who the manager and GM of the Mariners are. But Joe Morgan, the top baseball analyst for ESPN, should know. He should also know that the Mariners’ GM, Bill Bavasi, was fired the day before this chat took place while the manager was not.

Let it be known that under no circumstances short of Notre Dame advancing to the final four, or beyond, should college basketball ever be brought up in conversation with me while the Mets are playing baseball.

Penalties range from a vitriolic glare for a first offense to stabbing with readily available broken glassware for flagrant offenders.

Oh, it should have been a beautiful start to the baseball season. I woke up just as the Athletics were giving back an early 2-0 lead over the Red Sox in Tokyo.

No matter, as the A’s came right back in the bottom of the 6th, with Bobby Crosby bouncing a single up the middle. Jack Hannahan, filling in for injured Eric Chavez, followed with a two-run home run into the right field seats, putting the A’s on top 4-3.

Keith Foulke, back with the A’s after a stint with Boston and then a season on the shelf with injuries, pitched a very nice 8th inning, setting down Kevin Youkilis, David Ortiz, and Manny Ramirez. This should have set Huston Street up for a manageable with the bottom of the Sox order coming up in the ninth. I figured I could shower and get on the train by 8:15.

Unfortunately, Brandon Moss, who wasn’t even supposed to be playing today, dashed those plans with a homer of his own, tying the game at 4-4. Street continued his melt down in the 10th, giving up two more runs, which should have been more than enough for the Red Sox to close out the A’s and their paltry offense.

But nay! In the bottom of the 10th, Daric Barton, after falling behind Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon 1-2, worked a walk. Jack Cust struck out, but then Emil Brown sent a line drive to the wall in right center. While Barton raced around from first and headed toward the plate, Brown was rounding first and coming into second. If the throw from the outfield went through to the plate, Brown could have considered trying for third. But he had to be sure that the throw was going to the plate. Instead, Brown assumed that the throw was to home and barely slowed rounding second. Kevin Youkilis cut the throw, and Brown was stranded between second and third, eventually tagged out in a run down.

“I want to throw up,” was Mel’s reaction. I was livid. Instead of having a runner on second, representing the tying run, with one out, the A’s had nobody on base with two down. It would have been a poor play by a little leaguer or chemistry softballer, but for a major leaguer to run into an out like that is unacceptable. Oakland preaches a philosophy throughout the organization of not giving up outs. I can only imagine the tantrum that Billy Beane had seeing that play. Of course, Bobby Crosby and Jack Hannahan followed this horrible baserunning by knocking a pair of singles, at least suggesting that the A’s could have tied the game if Brown would have held at second base. Kurt Suzuki grounded out to first, ending the new threat and the game.

I shouldn’t put too much emphasis on any single play, but after watching his baserunning and looking over his stats, I have a feeling Emil Brown is the new Terrence Long.

Be sure to check this site tomorrow for a post which either rejoices in the return of Rich Harden to the A’s starting rotation or laments his latest injury.

Despite suffering arguably the worst collapse in baseball history, the Mets finished only one game out of the playoffs. They won 88 games and are bringing back essentially the same team in 2008.

Except replace Tom Glavine, and his 200 innings of corner nibbling, league average performance, with Johan Santana, and his 1+ strikeout per inning, two Cy Youngs in the last four years, and rightful holder of the title “Best Pitcher in Baseball.”

The end of 2007 was bitter. Now the end of 2007 is irrelevant.

See you in October.

Oh the dangers of becoming an A’s fan. Don’t buy the jersey of anyone good and don’t collect the bobbleheads. We have about 15 bobbleheads, but here are the ones currently with the organization:

When Stomper gets traded, then Beane will have gone too far.

AJ Jacobs from the magazine/website Mental Floss recently visited the Amish of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and discovered that the Amish love baseball:

I spot a cluster of about 30 buggies. We pull over to see what’s happening. We have stumbled onto an Amish baseball game. Many discourage competitive sports. But here are 18 Amish teenage boys, their sleeves rolled up, their shirts and suspenders dark with sweat. Julie and I watch for a long time. These kids are good, but something is off about the game. I realize after a few minutes what it is: This is the quietest baseball game I’ve ever seen. No trash talk. No cheering from the parents in the stands. Near silence, except for the occasional crack of the bat. It is eerie and peaceful and beautiful.

Read his entire report.

When your baseball team has a historic collapse in the last two weeks of the season and rumors start that they might sign David Eckstein.

When the likes of Purdue, Boston College, and Navy beat your football team.

When your hard drive, nay, two hard drives fail within four days.

When TV’s writers go on strike taking away The Office indefinitely.

When you haven’t seen a Berkeley car in months.

When life’s got you down, it takes something special to make you smile. That something is Derek Jeter, like Al Capone before him, being investigated for tax evasion.