Imagine being a White Sox fan like me. I may be setting myself up for some ridicule with that previous sentence, but hear me out. Your favorite team has a fat piece of shit closer named Bobby Jenks. It’s tough for you to say bad things about Bobby other than being a fat piece of shit since he pretty much dominated the late innings back in September and October of 2005 when the White Sox won the World Series. Overall, you tend to appreciate his career accomplishments like the scoreless innings streak, the 2 All-Star appearances, and that stellar K/BB ratio in 2007. But then every spring, you have to read about how he nearly ate himself to death over the previous winter. In fact, 2010 is now the 5th year in a row where you’ve had to read a variation of that exact same story. On Monday, you read this in the USA Today:

After seeing Bobby Jenks pitch in a batting cage Sunday, Chicago White Sox pitching coach Don Cooper said his closer is trailing the other pitchers in camp. “Bobby’s got a little bit different schedule because he was just a tad behind,” Cooper said. Jenks is behind for several reasons, according to Cooper: his wife had another child, the weather in Chicago was bad and Jenks had difficulty finding a catcher so he was limited to playing catch.

Let’s break this down, shall we? Read the rest of this entry »

Jon Garland signed a 1 year, $6.25 million deal this offseason with the Arizona Diamondbacks that includes a mutual option for 2010. There’s a minimal buyout if either party wants to back out after 2009, but essentially he was given 1 year guaranteed. I wonder if Garland has any thoughts on why he wasn’t able to get a longer deal, perhaps in the 4 year $50 million range that the Cubs were handing out like candy a couple off-seasons ago. Let’s check in with the Arizona Republic: Mr. Garland, were you surprised [at the lack of offers]?

“I really was. I’m not going to say my true feelings about some of the stuff that went on, because I definitely feel there were some things going on. But it definitely wasn’t the funnest year to be a free agent, I can tell you that.”

Grammar aside, that’s an interesting quote, no? Is he hinting at some sort of collusion amongst the owners? What “things” went on exactly? Hey Jon, did you happen to notice that only the Yankees seemed to have any money to spend last winter? I wasn’t seeing too many teams willing to shell out huge deals to guys who had a 6.58 ERA in their last 14 starts with a piss-poor K-rate. Could those have been the reasons that nobody wanted to give you any money? In years past, you were at least serviceable. Perhaps you can tell me why you picked your fucking contract year to completely suck balls. Read the rest of this entry »

Remember that scene in Little Big League when Billy Heywood’s favorite player gets a single and he starts cheering from the dugout and clapping like crazy. And the reason he’s cheering is because the player, Jerry Johnson, hasn’t hit anything all season? Then Billy leans over to his bench coach and says something like, “see, I told you he’d come around.” And his bench coach replies, “You realize you’re getting excited about a single, right?” Well that’s how I feel about Barry Zito. You see, I was stumbling through some box scores today and I realized, “oh yeah, Barry Zito earned his job back” and then I laughed because using the word “earn” and Zito in the same sentence is funny, even if that sentence is trapped in your mind.

But looking at his line, I was surprised. He pitched five innings, giving up 2ERs with a HR, 5 hits and 2 walks. That’s a pretty good outing. But then I looked closer: 99 pitches for 5 innings. An average of almost 20 pitches/inning…against the Pirates. You know why he has to throw so many pitches? Because his fastball isn’t a fastball anymore. His fastball is topping out at 86MPH which makes his curveball much less effective. The Pirates were fouling off all of his breaking pitches, just waiting for him to throw the fastball which is nice and slow and fat. His pitch count rose quickly as the Pirate hitters waited patiently for him to throw a pitch they could handle. And this is a team that ranks 19th in OBP at .322. Imagine what’ll happen next time when we faces a team with a better offense. I’m guessing it’ll be more of the same as what we’ve seen this year.

So no, I won’t get excited about this outing. I will play the role of the bench coach. The wise bench coach who shows Billy the ropes and convinces him to cut Jerry Johnson. But, happy ending, Jerry comes back as the hitting coach. Where am I going with this you ask? I have no idea.

Remember that scene in Little Big League when Billy Heywood’s favorite player gets a single and he starts cheering from the dugout and clapping like crazy. And the reason he’s cheering is because the player, Jerry Johnson, hasn’t hit anything all season? Then Billy leans over to his bench coach and says something like, “see, I told you he’d come around.” And his bench coach replies, “You realize you’re getting excited about a single, right?” Well that’s how I feel about Barry Zito. You see, I was stumbling through some box scores today and I realized, “oh yeah, Barry Zito earned his job back” and then I laughed because using the word “earn” and Zito in the same sentence is funny, even if that sentence is trapped in your mind.

But looking at his line, I was surprised. He pitched five innings, giving up 2ERs with a HR, 5 hits and 2 walks. That’s a pretty good outing. But then I looked closer: 99 pitches for 5 innings. An average of almost 20 pitches/inning…against the Pirates. You know why he has to throw so many pitches? Because his fastball isn’t a fastball anymore. His fastball is topping out at 86MPH which makes his curveball much less effective. The Pirates were fouling off all of his breaking pitches, just waiting for him to throw the fastball which is nice and slow and fat. His pitch count rose quickly as the Pirate hitters waited patiently for him to throw a pitch they could handle. And this is a team that ranks 19th in OBP at .322. Imagine what’ll happen next time when we faces a team with a better offense. I’m guessing it’ll be more of the same as what we’ve seen this year.

So no, I won’t get excited about this outing. I will play the role of the bench coach. The wise bench coach who shows Billy the ropes and convinces him to cut Jerry Johnson. But, happy ending, Jerry comes back as the hitting coach. Where am I going with this you ask? I have no idea.

Dear Stephen Drew,

First off, let me start by saying that I’m a big fan. I like your defensive abilities at shortstop and the fact that even when you’re struggling you never bring your bat onto the field with you (baseball metaphors are top notch). Also, I think you have the prettiest swing in baseball. With apologies to Ken Griffey Jr., I am always commenting on how smooth and impressive your swing is. It reminds me a lot of Ted Williams’ swing (based on the footage I’ve seen). Whoever taught you and your brother how to swing a bat was a smart guy (we can assume it wasn’t a woman, right? Right?).

Also, I have to say that I have never lived in a city where your brother has played while he was playing there. I’ve never watched him everyday and don’t feel too comfortable talking about him with expertise. I know about his reputation though. I know that he continually frustrates his fan base. I know that a large number of Dodgers’ fans were happy when he opted to leave LA for Boston, so much so that they sent in emails to warn Bill Simmons. Simmons even wrote that, “The Sox just signed someone who, by all accounts, plays without any semblance of passion or intensity.” I never understood any of this. I look at his stats and I see some good numbers. I see a guy with a career OPS of .888 (including a career OBP of .390) who’s good for about 20 HRs a year. Certainly that’s not worth $15 million a year, but it’s not too shabby. And my initial reaction to the complaints about his lackadaisical attitude is “he’s a religious kid from Georgia. Maybe he’s just quiet and polite.” To be honest, I thought that maybe people were overreacting.

But now I see you everyday. I watch you run out onto the field everyday. I watched you hit
.238 last year with an OPS of .683 in your first full year after wowing the crowds in less than half a season when you hit .316 and slugged .517. I watched you and Orlando Hudson team up for countless double plays that looked like you two had been playing together for years instead of months. I watched you hit .387 in the playoffs last year (second only to Kevin Youkilis) with an OPS of 1.084. And every time I watch you do something spectacular, I keep thinking: this is it. Now, he’s going to break out of this little funk and become more consistent. He’ll do these amazing things on a regular basis instead of once a month. I keep thinking, “Stephen Drew is going to be amazing when he just puts it all together.”

And finally I get it. I understand what these Los Angelinos and Atlantans, St. Louisians, and now Bostonians are talking about. I get it. Your stone faced expression that you play with is not intensity, it’s routine. Just like that beautiful swing of yours that you can unleash by instinct now, you know how to go out there and go through the motions successfully to produce just enough without being amazing. And sure, it’s early in your career. And maybe you and your brother are different. But I get it now. I shouldn’t get too excited because I know you won’t either.

Sincerely,

Hef

Dear Stephen Drew,

First off, let me start by saying that I’m a big fan. I like your defensive abilities at shortstop and the fact that even when you’re struggling you never bring your bat onto the field with you (baseball metaphors are top notch). Also, I think you have the prettiest swing in baseball. With apologies to Ken Griffey Jr., I am always commenting on how smooth and impressive your swing is. It reminds me a lot of Ted Williams’ swing (based on the footage I’ve seen). Whoever taught you and your brother how to swing a bat was a smart guy (we can assume it wasn’t a woman, right? Right?).

Also, I have to say that I have never lived in a city where your brother has played while he was playing there. I’ve never watched him everyday and don’t feel too comfortable talking about him with expertise. I know about his reputation though. I know that he continually frustrates his fan base. I know that a large number of Dodgers’ fans were happy when he opted to leave LA for Boston, so much so that they sent in emails to warn Bill Simmons. Simmons even wrote that, “The Sox just signed someone who, by all accounts, plays without any semblance of passion or intensity.” I never understood any of this. I look at his stats and I see some good numbers. I see a guy with a career OPS of .888 (including a career OBP of .390) who’s good for about 20 HRs a year. Certainly that’s not worth $15 million a year, but it’s not too shabby. And my initial reaction to the complaints about his lackadaisical attitude is “he’s a religious kid from Georgia. Maybe he’s just quiet and polite.” To be honest, I thought that maybe people were overreacting.

But now I see you everyday. I watch you run out onto the field everyday. I watched you hit
.238 last year with an OPS of .683 in your first full year after wowing the crowds in less than half a season when you hit .316 and slugged .517. I watched you and Orlando Hudson team up for countless double plays that looked like you two had been playing together for years instead of months. I watched you hit .387 in the playoffs last year (second only to Kevin Youkilis) with an OPS of 1.084. And every time I watch you do something spectacular, I keep thinking: this is it. Now, he’s going to break out of this little funk and become more consistent. He’ll do these amazing things on a regular basis instead of once a month. I keep thinking, “Stephen Drew is going to be amazing when he just puts it all together.”

And finally I get it. I understand what these Los Angelinos and Atlantans, St. Louisians, and now Bostonians are talking about. I get it. Your stone faced expression that you play with is not intensity, it’s routine. Just like that beautiful swing of yours that you can unleash by instinct now, you know how to go out there and go through the motions successfully to produce just enough without being amazing. And sure, it’s early in your career. And maybe you and your brother are different. But I get it now. I shouldn’t get too excited because I know you won’t either.

Sincerely,

Hef