This past weekend, Fathers' Day and baseball were intertwined. Momma Cuan's Fathers' Day present was taking me to the Saturday Twins game which the home town heroes lost by a mere six runs, 9-3 to the Cleveland Indians. It was the first game of a day/night double header. The Twins improved in the nightcap, which we did not attend, losing by only four runs, 6-2, but thereby relinquishing first place in the AL Central to their visitors. We watched most of that second game on TV in the comfort of the Quentin Estates where the beer is free compared to the ten bucks charged at Target Field.
When I went to bed Saturday night I knew the next day was Fathers' Day. So did everybody else who paid attention to TV and newspaper advertisements throughout the week, not to mention that the big event is always slotted for the third Sunday of June. I did not fall asleep right away. My thoughts drifted to the double diamond disaster we'd witnessed that day. Not only were the Twins swept in the double header, but the Tribe had pummeled them in the series opener Friday night, 8-1. I ended up dreaming about baseball and, surprisingly (since it had not yet arrived), Fathers' Day. The dream was actually pleasant, but it came to an abrupt halt when my cell phone vibrated on the nightstand next to the bed, awakening me at 8:10.
I had a text message! That's a pretty exciting and almost rare occurrence for me, as I typically receive only one or two texts every three or four days. Because of the subject matter of my dream, my waking thoughts were of Fathers' Day. I figured the text message was a Fathers' Day greeting, the only question being which of my three kids was the sender. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes -- thank you, Neil Diamond, for the phrase -- picked up the phone and saw a one word message from Michael: "Terrible."
Wow, that's a fine "How do you do?" What a thing to write to your father, especially on Fathers' Day. I always considered myself a decent dad, maybe even a notch above. (I was going to write "notch or two above" but do not want to get carried away.) I entered my phone's passcode and opened up the thread. Aha! Michael's message did not pertain to Fathers' Day or to me at all. Rather, he was responding to a message (which read, "Bummer") from friend Andrew Martinson which Andrew had sent late Saturday night following the Twins' disappointing loss. The correspondence was part of a baseball-themed text thread carried on periodically among Michael, Andrew, Uncle Luker and me. The thread once included Gina as well, but she admonished us in April not to bother her with our baseball messages unless and until the Twins made it to the World Series. I wonder if she realizes the Twins have not made it that far in over a quarter-century. My guess is that she does.
I didn't really need an excuse to do so, but I took that early (for me) Sunday morning experience to be a sign that I should write another post about baseball. I started making mental notes on Fathers' Day, and now I'm ready to write. What follows are some random observations about my favorite sport.
* Joe Maddon, the manager of the defending World Champion Chicago Cubs, is credited by most baseball observers to be the person who popularized utilizing exaggerated shifts by his players in the field. Maddon employed defensive shifts regularly during his nine year term as manager of the Tampa Bay Rays. For example, facing a right handed pull hitter, Maddon might order his second baseman to position himself to the left of second base. Now almost all of the thirty Major League Baseball teams follow suit. Some even adjust to a different shift when the batter faces a two strike count, in other words right in the middle of the at-bat. Spray charts created by a team's scouting staff illustrate where opponents' hitters are inclined to hit the ball. Managers like Maddon rely on the charts to position the fielders.
Here is the head scratcher. I have seen many games in which the pitcher seems totally oblivious to where his fielders, especially his infielders, are positioned. For example, if the infield is shifted so that only the first baseman is between the first and second base bags, the pitcher should pitch inside (i.e., inner half of the plate) to a right handed batter, and outside to a lefty. His team wants the batter to hit the ball into the shift. By doing otherwise,the pitcher is making it too easy for the batter to shoot a ground ball to the outfield. In short, the pitcher and his fielders need to be on the same page. My inclination is to place a big chunk of the blame on the catcher when this doesn't happen.
* The Twins' starting rotation has two pitchers who are mostly reliable, Ervin Santana and Jose Berrios. In a typical week, someone else starts three out of every five games. What has been happening lately is that these other three starting pitchers get shelled early in the game, so the bullpen is called upon to pitch the last six or more innings. When this happens for several games a week, there are not enough fresh arms in the pen. Due to physical limitations, a man can only pitch a finite number of innings a week The upshot is that either the Twins call up a kid from one of their minor league affiliates, or they resort to using their backup catcher, Chris Gimenez, as a relief pitcher. The two main problems with calling up a pitcher from the minors are (i) the kid is not ready to face MLB hitters (if he were he would probably not be a minor leaguer), and (ii) the team has to demote someone off their twenty-five man major league roster to make room for the newcomer. The problem with using Gimenez to pitch is obvious: He's not a pitcher, he's a catcher. Still, as of this writing Gimenez has pitched in six games this season. The Twins were hopelessly behind in all of them.
Here is an angle regarding Gimenez that is sometimes overlooked. When manager Paul Molitor brings in Gimenez, it does not necessarily mean the Twins have depleted their entire bullpen staff. On the contrary, there may be two or three relief pitchers who could come in to pitch in that game, but Molly is keeping them fresh so that they are available for the next game. Bottom line: Gimenez' appearance doesn't always signal that the Twins are out of pitchers.
* I have a suggestion for the next time you attend a baseball game: Get there a half hour early and walk over to the seats that are along the left field line, about forty feet from the foul pole. Then take a good look at the expanse of the outfield from that vantage point. You may be astonished how much real estate just three outfielders have to cover. The perspective I am suggesting gives you a much better feel for the immensity of the outfield than does looking at the outfield from behind home plate or from any other infield seat (or on TV).
* Right now Jose Berrios is the best pitcher in the Twins franchise, and he just turned a mere twenty-three years old. I noticed that when he heads back to the dugout following the third out of what he thinks will be his final inning of work for that game, he points toward the home plate umpire and gives him kind of a smiling nod, as if to say, "Good job." I have seen catchers do this once in a while at the end of ball games, but I can't recall a pitcher doing so. It is a class act. I wish I had suggested that bit of sportsmanship to the pitchers I coached back in the day.
In the second-to-last game Berrios pitched (June 15 against the Mariners), he gestured as I described above toward home plate umpire Shane Livensparger at the end of the seventh inning. Jose thought he was done for the night. Molitor thought otherwise, since the youngster's pitch count at that point was under ninety, so the manager sent him back out to pitch the eighth. Berrios got three outs easily, and once again as he walked off the field he acknowledged the ump. Twins closer Brian Kinsler mopped up in the ninth.
* Another observation, this time a negative one. When I attend a game I like to see how the fielders get into the "ready position" as the pitcher is about to deliver the ball. Some guys walk up to the spot they want to be in, some have their glove upturned but very close to the ground, others choose to keep their glove more thigh high, etc. What they do not do is stand still with their arms at their sides or with their hands resting on their knees. I am sorry to report that is exactly what Twins' left fielder Eddie Rosario was doing each time I paid attention to him last Saturday. That is inexcusable. You have to think that with umpteen coaches in the dugout, one of them must notice that too.
* When I was a kid most of my favorite players were on my three favorite teams, the Milwaukee Braves (Eddie Mathews, Hank Aaron and Bobby Thomson), the Chicago Cubs (Ernie Banks, Ron Santo and Billy Williams) and the Chicago White Sox (Luis Aparicio, Nellie Fox and Minnie Minoso). I also had my favorites who played for other teams such as Ted Kluszewski of the Reds, the Yankees' Gil McDougald, Rocky Colavito of the Indians and Roberto Clemente of the Pirates, to name a few.
Today I seem to base my faves more on what I perceive from their interviews than what their stats show. For example, who gives a more entertaining interview than Eduardo Escobar, the Twins' unsung hero? On the Twins' post-game show I would much rather hear what Esco has to say than listen to the droning Tim Laudner or the man who must hold the record for putting the most clauses in a single sentence, Roy Smalley. Kennys Vargas and Miguel Sano are also a lot of fun, trying hard to converse in their second language. The aforementioned Chris Gimenez seems like a very normal human being, the kind you wouldn't mind having a beer with.
As for non-Twins, two interview standouts are Curtis Granderson of the Mets and Eric Hosmer of the Royals. Reasons: talented but humble, conversational, happy, and appreciative of their roles, viz., getting paid handsomely to play baseball.
My latest favorite non-Twins player is actually one whom I've never heard interviewed: the Rays' starting right fielder, Steven Souza. Here is what brought my attention to him. I attended the Twins-Rays game on May 26. The Rays were winning 4-0 going into the bottom of the seventh inning. Joe Mauer led off the inning with a single to center, but Miguel Sano and Max Kepler followed with a strike out and a popup, respectively. Rays pitcher Chris Archer threw a wild pitch advancing Mauer to second during Kepler's AB. The next batter was big Kennys Vargas. Archer threw yet another wild pitch putting Mauer on third. The crowd of almost 21,000, after waiting over two hours, now had something to get excited about.
On a 2-0 pitch, Vargas hit a soft liner to shallow right-center field. Right fielder Souza, who is built like a linebacker -- he turned down a football scholarship to Washington State -- lumbered diagonally to his right and dove for the sinking ball. It was a noble effort, but the humor of the scene trumped the nobility. Why? Because the ball landed at least twenty-five feet from Souza's outstretched mitt! It was the most futile attempted dive I have ever witnessed. Center fielder Kevin Kiermaier, who probably could not believe what had just transpired, picked up the ball and threw it in to hold Vargas to a single. Jorge Polanco then flew out to left to strand Vargas and end the inning. Archer and reliever Alex Colome stuck out four Twins in the final two innings, and the Rays won the game 5-2.
Back to Souza. His outfield teammate Kiermaier was obviously doling out some trash talk right after the ignominious dive ("The Dive"). Souza had to mask his laughter by bringing his glove up to his face. Then the Twins video board replayed the Vargas hit and The Dive three or four times. I'm sure the Twins fans in the right field bleachers -- at least those who were paying attention -- threw catcalls his way. Of course when he returned to the dugout after the half-inning, Souza had to put up with his teammates' ribbing.
Wouldn't you know, Souza, hitting in the five hole, was the third batter up in the top of the eighth. Right before he came to the plate, the Twins brought in relief pitcher Matt Belisle to replace Craig Breslow. That delay gave the video operator another, even longer opportunity to show The Dive repeatedly on the jumbotron. As Souza was stepping into the batters' box the video operator came in for a close-up of Souza having a friendly conversation with Twins catcher Jason Castro. Both then and earlier when he was in the field taking verbal abuse from the fans, Souza was smiling. This is a guy who has accomplished the art of taking things in stride. Exhibit A is what happened to Belisle's fourth pitch, a 2-1 fastball. Souza lined it over the left field wall for his eighth home run of the year.
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