Five hours and 15 minutes, and the Indians scoring seven runs in the top of the 11th, the final three being outsourced the shit out of Fenway Park. What a crazy fucking game.
Four wins down, seven to go.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Indians Win! FOUR down, seven to go
Holy shit that was a long game. I knew when Gagne took the mound that something was going to happen - it was like Boston did everything they could to avoid having to use this weak link. I also knew that Schilling was running his mouth again, and that when the day was over, the probability of him sucking was higher than him being Mr. October again. Anyway, without further ado...
Five hours and 15 minutes, and the Indians scoring seven runs in the top of the 11th, the final three being outsourced the shit out of Fenway Park. What a crazy fucking game.
Four wins down, seven to go.
Five hours and 15 minutes, and the Indians scoring seven runs in the top of the 11th, the final three being outsourced the shit out of Fenway Park. What a crazy fucking game.
Four wins down, seven to go.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Indians Win! THREE down, eight to go
Indians Win!
Indians Win!
Indians Win!
Indians Win!
THREE wins down, eight more to go.
Indians Win!
Indians Win!
Indians Win!
THREE wins down, eight more to go.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Indians Win! TWO down, nine to go
Believe me, I've already got all eleven of these ready to go.
Two wins down, nine more to go.
Two wins down, nine more to go.
Indians Win! One Down, Ten to Go
When it comes to watching sports, if you are to actually enjoy yourself, there has to be something to root for. That being said, with the baseball playoffs now underway, and my Atlanta Braves nowhere in the picture, I've pretty much decided who I want to win each divisional series, and whom I want to ultimately win it entirely. So far, so good.
I have decided that I am rooting for the Cleveland Indians to win it all, for one reason, and one reason only.
To be able to post politically-incorrect, misunderstood, demographic-ignorant, shoddily photoshopped pictures of the Cleveland Indians with each win... or elimination... for my own amusement, and for the amusement of those who know my demented humor, and get it themselves.
One win down, ten more to go.
I have decided that I am rooting for the Cleveland Indians to win it all, for one reason, and one reason only.
To be able to post politically-incorrect, misunderstood, demographic-ignorant, shoddily photoshopped pictures of the Cleveland Indians with each win... or elimination... for my own amusement, and for the amusement of those who know my demented humor, and get it themselves.
One win down, ten more to go.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The Inevitable Changes in Modern Sports
In the novel, For the Love of the Game, protagonist Billy Chapel is essentially an old school player living in the modern era. He loves the game, and the thought of playing for a team other than the one he played for his entire career is one that has never really crossed his mind throughout his tenure in the big leagues. He is paid generously, but there is speculation that throughout his career, a large amount of money has been left on the table due to his earnest willingness to continue playing for his team, and simplicity in negotiating the financial aspect of doing his job. Never any agents, and always with a handshake with the owner of the team. Even the owner himself has questioned Chapel's lack of argument when it came to the financial aspect. To Chapel, he's paid well; more than enough to live a comfortable lifestyle, and it's while getting to do what he loves most - play baseball.
Even with the most marginal of talent, the minimum salaries in professional sports at the major level are more than enough for a person to comfortably live off of, with minimal maintenance. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell you that it's financially irresponsible to own a Hummer, Maserati, Lamborghini, and a Benz, when one can do just fine with a top-end Lexus. But I'm getting beside the point, which is that the modern sports era is one that is purely tainted by money, greed, and luxury, and I often question where the love of the game has simply gone?
Sports fans of any sport nowadays will endure the feeling of change, when a player moves elsewhere, for whatever reasons, most typically, financially. I think it's certainly more frequently than back when our parents and their parents watched sports - back then, there were more Billy Chapels, and less agents, and a seemingly better understanding that get paid to play sports was more of a privilege than a right. Sometimes, the changes are understandable, sometimes they don't really bother us, because it's a player from a team that we might be indifferent to. Lots of times, change occurs with the teams that we religiously follow, which hurts the most. Always though, change takes some time to let sink in, because it's going to be a little strange.
Cases in point -
• Ken Griffey, Jr. departs from the Seattle Mariners, and goes to the Cincinnati Reds. How accustomed did we all grow seeing Junior in the green and navy blue of the Mariners, to see him don the red and white of the Reds? I didn't even really follow baseball much back then, and I was like, wtf?
• Allen Iverson traded from the Philadelphia 76ers to the Denver Nuggets. Iverson grew up in Virginia, played college ball at Georgetown, and went pro to the 76ers. For his entire career to that point, his entire life was spent in the chunk of the Atlantic coast, mostly making his name at Georgetown. Even when he went to the 76ers, there was always a sense of pride in this guy that at first, liked it there, because he was "close to home," referring to Washington/Virginia. And now he's out in fucking Colorado, because he's now a douche who couldn't get along with management. Just because it happened in one place doesn't mean it'll never happen again. I wouldn't be surprised to see him have to move again in his career. Regardless though, black-red-white Iverson was a staple of the game - but now we're subject to the light blue-gold-white of the Nuggets, and that's just.. weird.
• Mike Mussina goes to the Yankees. Because Peter Angelos is a stingy jew, Mussina does what most players with good talent do - accept Yankee money, and then put on Yankee pinstripes. This, saddened me, because I have glowing memories of the 1997 ALCS, where the scientific Mussina struck out fifteen Cleveland Indians, in an extra-innings heartbreaker. With him gone, and the inevitable retirement of Cal Ripken, Jr., I would never have any reason to like the Orioles ever again.
• Drew Bledsoe throws up his arms and goes to Buffalo. Bledsoe was the Patriots, long before Tom Brady showed up and started spreading his seed everywhere, impregnating all the hot womens. Bledsoe has to have had one of the most ironic careers in sports history, starting with the fact that during his tenure with the Patriots, they were never really bad, and once good enough to go all the way to the Superbowl in 1996. He got his ring in 2001, but that was after his injury, and Brady stepped to the plate, and Drew had to earn it on someone else's coat tails. Naturally, sensing the directional change of the team, he goes to the Bills, and in his first game with the Bills, he leads them to a humiliating blowout win over his former team. Unfortunately, that would be the highlight of his career with the Bills, as they proceeded to pretty much lose every game after that, and then he went to Dallas where he did shit there too.
• Pedro Martinez leaves the Boston Red Sox, and goes to the New York Mets. To me, this is probably the biggest move that I can think of currently. Pedro WAS Boston. Throughout the 90s, and into the 2000s, when anyone mentioned the Red Sox, the guy synonymous with the team was Pedro, quite possibly the greatest pitcher of the 90s. The city of Boston had reason to celebrate every five days in the summer, aptly described as "Pedro Martinez Day." In 2004, the Red Sox got their shit together, and actually won it all. Promptly afterwards, Pedro balks at Boston's generous 4-year deal, and accepts the equivalently generous 5-year deal from the Mets. The red, the B, of the Red Sox no more. Instead, he donned the blue and orange, sometimes pinstriped, and always ugly blue baseball glove of the Mets. Now that was weird.
There are far other examples, and I don't count the ones that contain players well past their prime, like Patrick Ewing going to the Sonics and then the Magic, or Hakeem Olajuwon going to the fucking Raptors.
**
Now what I'm getting to is the recent news that the Atlanta Braves have decided to not deal with Nazi-agent Scott Boras, and therefore allowing Andruw Jones to cut ties from the one organization he's been playing with for his twelve-year career. Basically, unless Andruw comes back with just his dad and no Boras, and says he'll play for Atlanta for the rest of his career for half of what he's initially looking for, there's a 99% chance that Andruw Jones is done for with the Atlanta Braves.
There are times where the guy has infuriated me, especially this season. I marched out of Fenway Park after Andruw Jones struck out for the fifth time against Papelbon, drunkenly screaming to everyone that "if you want Andruw Jones so bad you can fucking keep him I don't want him coming back to Atlanta with me". I cursed his existence when he pulled a Jose Vidro, and grounded into a double play to end the game at Shea, against an evidently struggling Billy Wagner. The constant rally-killing strikeouts, the poor body language. At times, I hated Andruw Jones.
But as the season began winding down, and Mark Teixiera started heating up, it was Andruw Jones, quietly improving his numbers from the seven-spot. Realization sunk in that Andruw Jones' Atlanta career was slowly, and quietly dying. I thought back to 2005, when Andruw cranked out 51 home runs, and how amazing he was. 2007 was no question, a fluke in his career, and he will be back very soon, with another 35 homer, 120 RBI season.
Unfortunately, it will probably in all likelihood not be for the Atlanta Braves.
In 2005, I remember logging onto SI.com, and seeing a picture of Pedro Martinez wearing a Mets jersey, and hat, while smiling brightly for the camera. I grimaced, and did the "OJ Simpson on Trial" face at that sight. I dread the day I go onto SI.com, and see a picture of Andruw Jones wearing someone else's jersey.
But it's going to happen.
And that makes me sad.
Even with the most marginal of talent, the minimum salaries in professional sports at the major level are more than enough for a person to comfortably live off of, with minimal maintenance. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell you that it's financially irresponsible to own a Hummer, Maserati, Lamborghini, and a Benz, when one can do just fine with a top-end Lexus. But I'm getting beside the point, which is that the modern sports era is one that is purely tainted by money, greed, and luxury, and I often question where the love of the game has simply gone?
Sports fans of any sport nowadays will endure the feeling of change, when a player moves elsewhere, for whatever reasons, most typically, financially. I think it's certainly more frequently than back when our parents and their parents watched sports - back then, there were more Billy Chapels, and less agents, and a seemingly better understanding that get paid to play sports was more of a privilege than a right. Sometimes, the changes are understandable, sometimes they don't really bother us, because it's a player from a team that we might be indifferent to. Lots of times, change occurs with the teams that we religiously follow, which hurts the most. Always though, change takes some time to let sink in, because it's going to be a little strange.
Cases in point -
• Ken Griffey, Jr. departs from the Seattle Mariners, and goes to the Cincinnati Reds. How accustomed did we all grow seeing Junior in the green and navy blue of the Mariners, to see him don the red and white of the Reds? I didn't even really follow baseball much back then, and I was like, wtf?
• Allen Iverson traded from the Philadelphia 76ers to the Denver Nuggets. Iverson grew up in Virginia, played college ball at Georgetown, and went pro to the 76ers. For his entire career to that point, his entire life was spent in the chunk of the Atlantic coast, mostly making his name at Georgetown. Even when he went to the 76ers, there was always a sense of pride in this guy that at first, liked it there, because he was "close to home," referring to Washington/Virginia. And now he's out in fucking Colorado, because he's now a douche who couldn't get along with management. Just because it happened in one place doesn't mean it'll never happen again. I wouldn't be surprised to see him have to move again in his career. Regardless though, black-red-white Iverson was a staple of the game - but now we're subject to the light blue-gold-white of the Nuggets, and that's just.. weird.
• Mike Mussina goes to the Yankees. Because Peter Angelos is a stingy jew, Mussina does what most players with good talent do - accept Yankee money, and then put on Yankee pinstripes. This, saddened me, because I have glowing memories of the 1997 ALCS, where the scientific Mussina struck out fifteen Cleveland Indians, in an extra-innings heartbreaker. With him gone, and the inevitable retirement of Cal Ripken, Jr., I would never have any reason to like the Orioles ever again.
• Drew Bledsoe throws up his arms and goes to Buffalo. Bledsoe was the Patriots, long before Tom Brady showed up and started spreading his seed everywhere, impregnating all the hot womens. Bledsoe has to have had one of the most ironic careers in sports history, starting with the fact that during his tenure with the Patriots, they were never really bad, and once good enough to go all the way to the Superbowl in 1996. He got his ring in 2001, but that was after his injury, and Brady stepped to the plate, and Drew had to earn it on someone else's coat tails. Naturally, sensing the directional change of the team, he goes to the Bills, and in his first game with the Bills, he leads them to a humiliating blowout win over his former team. Unfortunately, that would be the highlight of his career with the Bills, as they proceeded to pretty much lose every game after that, and then he went to Dallas where he did shit there too.
• Pedro Martinez leaves the Boston Red Sox, and goes to the New York Mets. To me, this is probably the biggest move that I can think of currently. Pedro WAS Boston. Throughout the 90s, and into the 2000s, when anyone mentioned the Red Sox, the guy synonymous with the team was Pedro, quite possibly the greatest pitcher of the 90s. The city of Boston had reason to celebrate every five days in the summer, aptly described as "Pedro Martinez Day." In 2004, the Red Sox got their shit together, and actually won it all. Promptly afterwards, Pedro balks at Boston's generous 4-year deal, and accepts the equivalently generous 5-year deal from the Mets. The red, the B, of the Red Sox no more. Instead, he donned the blue and orange, sometimes pinstriped, and always ugly blue baseball glove of the Mets. Now that was weird.
There are far other examples, and I don't count the ones that contain players well past their prime, like Patrick Ewing going to the Sonics and then the Magic, or Hakeem Olajuwon going to the fucking Raptors.
**
Now what I'm getting to is the recent news that the Atlanta Braves have decided to not deal with Nazi-agent Scott Boras, and therefore allowing Andruw Jones to cut ties from the one organization he's been playing with for his twelve-year career. Basically, unless Andruw comes back with just his dad and no Boras, and says he'll play for Atlanta for the rest of his career for half of what he's initially looking for, there's a 99% chance that Andruw Jones is done for with the Atlanta Braves.
There are times where the guy has infuriated me, especially this season. I marched out of Fenway Park after Andruw Jones struck out for the fifth time against Papelbon, drunkenly screaming to everyone that "if you want Andruw Jones so bad you can fucking keep him I don't want him coming back to Atlanta with me". I cursed his existence when he pulled a Jose Vidro, and grounded into a double play to end the game at Shea, against an evidently struggling Billy Wagner. The constant rally-killing strikeouts, the poor body language. At times, I hated Andruw Jones.
But as the season began winding down, and Mark Teixiera started heating up, it was Andruw Jones, quietly improving his numbers from the seven-spot. Realization sunk in that Andruw Jones' Atlanta career was slowly, and quietly dying. I thought back to 2005, when Andruw cranked out 51 home runs, and how amazing he was. 2007 was no question, a fluke in his career, and he will be back very soon, with another 35 homer, 120 RBI season.
Unfortunately, it will probably in all likelihood not be for the Atlanta Braves.
In 2005, I remember logging onto SI.com, and seeing a picture of Pedro Martinez wearing a Mets jersey, and hat, while smiling brightly for the camera. I grimaced, and did the "OJ Simpson on Trial" face at that sight. I dread the day I go onto SI.com, and see a picture of Andruw Jones wearing someone else's jersey.
But it's going to happen.
And that makes me sad.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Goodbye Summer
At 12:17 a.m. EST, this morning, whether or not Matt Holliday touched home plate or not, the Colorado Rockies beat the San Diego Padres in the bottom of the 13th inning, in the rare edition of the 163rd game of the season, to take the last and final place in the playoffs as the National League's Wild Card. All I have to say is that despite my general indifference towards either of the two teams, I was pulling for the Padres to pull it out, and needless to say, I was disappointed. But not for long. This was just a game that anyone could tell the Rockies just wanted more, and in a battle of attrition, the home team usually pulls it out.
This game was in every sense of the word, beautiful.
Two teams that played their hearts out and left absolutely everything on the field. It really doesn't matter what the Rockies do from this point, because there is little they can do except win the World Series that can reach this level this season. Neither team gave up at any time of the game, and when the game finally reached it's end, it had a little bit of everything, just enough to make this one of the greatest games ever played.
• Blood
• Sweat
• Tears
• Constant ties
• Blown saves
• A grand slam
• Controversial calls
• Extra innings
There were so many great individual performances last night, and my mind is still scrambling, trying to remember them all. The guy that stands out the most to me would have to be Padres reliever, Heath Bell, whom with his 2.2 innings of work would just not cave in, and threw some ballsy pitches to some of the best hitters all year, and when he sat down, had struck out five. He epitomized the raw emotion and desire to win, even if it meant shouldering the burden, and this was clearly evident, when he struck out Holliday to end the inning, and for an entire second, the only thing that could be heard was this triumphant roar from Bell. On a night where, and as Joe Morgan was quick to point out... several times... but on a night when Jake Peavy wasn't quite Jake Peavy, Bell sure as hell came out of the bullpen, and did his best impression for 2.2 innings.
Speaking of Peavy, the guy just didn't have his stuff last night. I can't say it was nerves, because the mark of a good pitcher is how they settle down and put the clamps down onto the other team, but all night long, Peavy had difficulty finding the strike zone, and his pitches lacked the bite and late-movement that I had seen him punish the Braves with on several occasions. The fact that he went 118 pitches in over six innings may have hurt the Padres, with his inability to preserve the lead at any given time. He has probably in already won the National League's Cy Young since he's the triple-crown pitcher and his accomplishments are not to be dismissed by any means, but if there was ever a game that he needed to be even 80%, yesterday was it.
Matt Holliday, I was hoping would have gone 0-5, so that Chipper Jones could win the batting title. But to ask of that from someone whom is having an MVP-caliber season is pretty much riding on hopes and dreams. I think he went 2-4 or 2-5 or something, with possibly two BBs, but the bottom line is that with his MVP-caliber performance last night, he secured both the batting title, the RBI title, and if not for the fact that award balloting ended two days ago, he probably would've won National League MVP. The triple in the bottom of the 13th was heart-wrenching, and despite the questionability of the game-winning slide that shouldn't have been game-winning, it was only putting off the inevitable; the Rockies would've probably won that game in the 15th, 16th, or 18th for all we know - I just see it as doing me a favor and letting me go to sleep.
Mike Cameron - can we say that this guy has balls, or can we say that this guy, or maybe it's Bud Black, is just stupid? Who knows. All I know is that I'd never seen a man look so miserable in his entire life until I'd seen Cameron sitting on the bench, watching as Clark made three bad plays in center field that Cameron would have made look easy. And it was evidently too much for him to handle, as injured hand or not, he came in to pinch-run, and then to play his rightful position for two innings. I know the guy is entering free-agency, and he wants to show off, but one bad defensive play, and he could've seriously messed himself up.
When Jorge Julio came out in the top of the 13th, I silently rejoiced, but dared say nothing - I'd seen this guy wildly pitch away in Florida to know that he was a ticking time bomb, and that this amount of pressure would've been crippling to a weak-minded guy like him. All was justified, when he gave up the two-run jack to Hariston, and I was on my feet. I almost found it humorous when the guy to clean up his mess was none other than Ramon Ortiz, a former Nationals starter whom I was used to seeing get victimized, by like everyone. Miraculously, he managed to get out of the inning without letting more damage through.
A funny feeling came over me when we reached the bottom of the 13th inning. No, not from TBS camera crew constantly focusing on the hot blonde in the front row behind the Rockies' on-deck circle (bless them), but one of those funny gut-feelings that something just isn't quite right. The greatest closer of all time, Trevor Hoffman taking the mound in the bottom of the 13th, to attempt to close out the Rockies and clinch the final playoff spot for the Padres. The Rockies, sending the top of their order to eliminate the defecit and keep the game going. Something inside of me, and I said this at 12:02 a.m., 15 minutes prior to the winning run coming in, that "with Matt Holliday, anything is possible."
Bell, Brocail, Thatcher - all these guys did one hell of a job last night, keeping the Rockies off the scoreboards. They all also do something else - throw heat. Anywhere from 92-96 mph, these guys had Rockies batters off balance and unable to catch up to their fastballs when thrown.
I like Trevor Hoffman, and I will declare him the best closer ever, unless Mariano Rivera can take the all-time saves title from him, which doesn't seem likely anymore. But if there's one thing Hoffman doesn't do anymore now, is what all his prior bullpen mates did do - throw heat. His fastball tops at around 86-88 mph, and his changeup struggles to find the strike zone at around 75 mph. After dealing with flame throwers, this was the perfect velocity for Rockies hitters to see softballs coming down the pipe. Not Tim Wakefield slow, but not Joel Zumaya fast. Perfect speed.
I saw this coming when Kaz doubled to start the inning, and then all of a sudden, I knew right then and there that this game was over, and it was just a matter of time when. I figured Tulowitzki was going to bunt or something to get Kaz over, but he instead batted him in, and the Holliday batted him in immediately afterwards. Hoffman was maybe a little fatigued, from having been warmed up three times prior to actually pitching, but I can't fault Bud Black for going to the all-times saves leader, for just one more.
And then the rest was history. I laughed at Carroll's post game ignorance:
"IF YOU DON'T MIND, I'D LIKE TO GO CELEBRATE"
"Well, there's someone hurt over there"
"WHO?????"
"...Matt Holliday. The guy you just batted in. The guy who just won the game for you"
"OH I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED"
I laughed my ass off at this one. Was he serious? Was Carroll on such a high, that he couldn't even remember who he just batted in for the winning run?
After four hours and 40 minutes, the last game of the season ended, and therefore, summer has officlaly ended. In terms of pure baseball, there wasn't anything much better than the 163rd game. Both teams left everything out on the field, and the Rockies weren't just the only winners last night, we as baseball fans won, too.
This game was in every sense of the word, beautiful.
Two teams that played their hearts out and left absolutely everything on the field. It really doesn't matter what the Rockies do from this point, because there is little they can do except win the World Series that can reach this level this season. Neither team gave up at any time of the game, and when the game finally reached it's end, it had a little bit of everything, just enough to make this one of the greatest games ever played.
• Blood
• Sweat
• Tears
• Constant ties
• Blown saves
• A grand slam
• Controversial calls
• Extra innings
There were so many great individual performances last night, and my mind is still scrambling, trying to remember them all. The guy that stands out the most to me would have to be Padres reliever, Heath Bell, whom with his 2.2 innings of work would just not cave in, and threw some ballsy pitches to some of the best hitters all year, and when he sat down, had struck out five. He epitomized the raw emotion and desire to win, even if it meant shouldering the burden, and this was clearly evident, when he struck out Holliday to end the inning, and for an entire second, the only thing that could be heard was this triumphant roar from Bell. On a night where, and as Joe Morgan was quick to point out... several times... but on a night when Jake Peavy wasn't quite Jake Peavy, Bell sure as hell came out of the bullpen, and did his best impression for 2.2 innings.
Speaking of Peavy, the guy just didn't have his stuff last night. I can't say it was nerves, because the mark of a good pitcher is how they settle down and put the clamps down onto the other team, but all night long, Peavy had difficulty finding the strike zone, and his pitches lacked the bite and late-movement that I had seen him punish the Braves with on several occasions. The fact that he went 118 pitches in over six innings may have hurt the Padres, with his inability to preserve the lead at any given time. He has probably in already won the National League's Cy Young since he's the triple-crown pitcher and his accomplishments are not to be dismissed by any means, but if there was ever a game that he needed to be even 80%, yesterday was it.
Matt Holliday, I was hoping would have gone 0-5, so that Chipper Jones could win the batting title. But to ask of that from someone whom is having an MVP-caliber season is pretty much riding on hopes and dreams. I think he went 2-4 or 2-5 or something, with possibly two BBs, but the bottom line is that with his MVP-caliber performance last night, he secured both the batting title, the RBI title, and if not for the fact that award balloting ended two days ago, he probably would've won National League MVP. The triple in the bottom of the 13th was heart-wrenching, and despite the questionability of the game-winning slide that shouldn't have been game-winning, it was only putting off the inevitable; the Rockies would've probably won that game in the 15th, 16th, or 18th for all we know - I just see it as doing me a favor and letting me go to sleep.
Mike Cameron - can we say that this guy has balls, or can we say that this guy, or maybe it's Bud Black, is just stupid? Who knows. All I know is that I'd never seen a man look so miserable in his entire life until I'd seen Cameron sitting on the bench, watching as Clark made three bad plays in center field that Cameron would have made look easy. And it was evidently too much for him to handle, as injured hand or not, he came in to pinch-run, and then to play his rightful position for two innings. I know the guy is entering free-agency, and he wants to show off, but one bad defensive play, and he could've seriously messed himself up.
When Jorge Julio came out in the top of the 13th, I silently rejoiced, but dared say nothing - I'd seen this guy wildly pitch away in Florida to know that he was a ticking time bomb, and that this amount of pressure would've been crippling to a weak-minded guy like him. All was justified, when he gave up the two-run jack to Hariston, and I was on my feet. I almost found it humorous when the guy to clean up his mess was none other than Ramon Ortiz, a former Nationals starter whom I was used to seeing get victimized, by like everyone. Miraculously, he managed to get out of the inning without letting more damage through.
A funny feeling came over me when we reached the bottom of the 13th inning. No, not from TBS camera crew constantly focusing on the hot blonde in the front row behind the Rockies' on-deck circle (bless them), but one of those funny gut-feelings that something just isn't quite right. The greatest closer of all time, Trevor Hoffman taking the mound in the bottom of the 13th, to attempt to close out the Rockies and clinch the final playoff spot for the Padres. The Rockies, sending the top of their order to eliminate the defecit and keep the game going. Something inside of me, and I said this at 12:02 a.m., 15 minutes prior to the winning run coming in, that "with Matt Holliday, anything is possible."
Bell, Brocail, Thatcher - all these guys did one hell of a job last night, keeping the Rockies off the scoreboards. They all also do something else - throw heat. Anywhere from 92-96 mph, these guys had Rockies batters off balance and unable to catch up to their fastballs when thrown.
I like Trevor Hoffman, and I will declare him the best closer ever, unless Mariano Rivera can take the all-time saves title from him, which doesn't seem likely anymore. But if there's one thing Hoffman doesn't do anymore now, is what all his prior bullpen mates did do - throw heat. His fastball tops at around 86-88 mph, and his changeup struggles to find the strike zone at around 75 mph. After dealing with flame throwers, this was the perfect velocity for Rockies hitters to see softballs coming down the pipe. Not Tim Wakefield slow, but not Joel Zumaya fast. Perfect speed.
I saw this coming when Kaz doubled to start the inning, and then all of a sudden, I knew right then and there that this game was over, and it was just a matter of time when. I figured Tulowitzki was going to bunt or something to get Kaz over, but he instead batted him in, and the Holliday batted him in immediately afterwards. Hoffman was maybe a little fatigued, from having been warmed up three times prior to actually pitching, but I can't fault Bud Black for going to the all-times saves leader, for just one more.
And then the rest was history. I laughed at Carroll's post game ignorance:
"IF YOU DON'T MIND, I'D LIKE TO GO CELEBRATE"
"Well, there's someone hurt over there"
"WHO?????"
"...Matt Holliday. The guy you just batted in. The guy who just won the game for you"
"OH I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED"
I laughed my ass off at this one. Was he serious? Was Carroll on such a high, that he couldn't even remember who he just batted in for the winning run?
After four hours and 40 minutes, the last game of the season ended, and therefore, summer has officlaly ended. In terms of pure baseball, there wasn't anything much better than the 163rd game. Both teams left everything out on the field, and the Rockies weren't just the only winners last night, we as baseball fans won, too.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The rare Game #163
Summer is not over yet. Baseball will push the sun up one more time, and give us one more day of regular season baseball. Tomorrow is the real first day of Autumn, as after tonight, the final game of the season will be played, and the state for the playoffs will be set.
But tonight, we as baseball fans, get to witness something that hasn't been seen in the better part of a decade - Game 163.
For one night only, Jake Peavy will take the mound, and the visiting San Diego Padres march into Coors Field in Colorado to take on Matt Holliday, Todd Helton, Troy Tulowitzki, and the rest of the upstart Rockies, where everything, is on the line.
Padres vs. Rockies. Think about it, that doesn't sound like a game any of us would watch, unless we're a die-hard Padres fan, or a die-hard Rockies fan. Unless there are absolutely no other games being played in DirecTV's MLB package, I wouldn't think about sitting down to watch this one. Not even if it were Peavy/Maddux vs. Jeff Francis or something marquee.
But tonight's match-up is something special. For one of these teams tonight, this is the last game of the season. The winner is the National League Wild Card, and is guaranteed three more games, and more if they can ride this wave longer. The loser will probably suffer the worst defeat possible - on the cusp, the bubble, right on the edge - of a chance at the post-season, only to fall short. And then a winter of questions will begin:
• What if Trevor Hoffman didn't blow the save against ______?
• If Holliday's warning-track hit were in Colorado instead of Philly, wouldn't it have gone out?
• Why did we get Michael Barrett??
On any other given night throughout the summer, I wouldn't care about this game. Personally, I have my own reasons for watching this game tonight, and I intend to be in front of my television at 7:35 EST to see this.
• Probable NL Cy Young winner Jake Peavy vs. Probable NL MVP Matt Holliday who also happens to be the current batting champion. Peavy wins tonight, he gets 20 wins, a perfect compliment to the AL's Josh Beckett. But in order to get that win, I would ideally like him to 0-fer Holliday, whom with a theoretical 0-4 or 0-5 performance tonight, would solidify Atlanta's Chipper Jones as the batting champion for 2007. Yes, regardless of the award balloting goes, the votes are already in, contrary to what MLB.com wants you to believe. But in terms of statistics, Game 163 IS a regular-season game, and yes, these stats DO count.
• TBS is broadcasting this game - yesterday marked the final Braves broadcast on TBS, which was kind of a melancholy thing for me. I don't agree with the direction of the station, and they're doing everything to eliminate the past from the present from me, the dismissal of WCW pro-wrestling, and now the killing-off of Atlanta Braves baseball. They're even changing the channel number, from the "Channel 17" most people have grown accustomed to throughout the last three decades. Furthermore, with the killing of Braves on TBS, but the beginning of Postseason on TBS, I am curious to get a preview of the new crew - from what I know, it is Chip Caray and Cal Ripken, Jr. among a cast of who-knows-else. Like 'em or hate 'em, tonight's the night to get a sample of what we're going to be hearing for the next two weeks.
• It's Game 163. When was the last time we saw one? 1999? This is it, if there was ever one game to watch where two teams are going to leave it all out on the field, that is tonight. It's a playoff game, and yet it isn't. Tonight, loser goes home, and winner takes all. But winner taking all still means they have received nothing at all, except for a chance.
God, baseball is a wonderful thing.
But tonight, we as baseball fans, get to witness something that hasn't been seen in the better part of a decade - Game 163.
For one night only, Jake Peavy will take the mound, and the visiting San Diego Padres march into Coors Field in Colorado to take on Matt Holliday, Todd Helton, Troy Tulowitzki, and the rest of the upstart Rockies, where everything, is on the line.
Padres vs. Rockies. Think about it, that doesn't sound like a game any of us would watch, unless we're a die-hard Padres fan, or a die-hard Rockies fan. Unless there are absolutely no other games being played in DirecTV's MLB package, I wouldn't think about sitting down to watch this one. Not even if it were Peavy/Maddux vs. Jeff Francis or something marquee.
But tonight's match-up is something special. For one of these teams tonight, this is the last game of the season. The winner is the National League Wild Card, and is guaranteed three more games, and more if they can ride this wave longer. The loser will probably suffer the worst defeat possible - on the cusp, the bubble, right on the edge - of a chance at the post-season, only to fall short. And then a winter of questions will begin:
• What if Trevor Hoffman didn't blow the save against ______?
• If Holliday's warning-track hit were in Colorado instead of Philly, wouldn't it have gone out?
• Why did we get Michael Barrett??
On any other given night throughout the summer, I wouldn't care about this game. Personally, I have my own reasons for watching this game tonight, and I intend to be in front of my television at 7:35 EST to see this.
• Probable NL Cy Young winner Jake Peavy vs. Probable NL MVP Matt Holliday who also happens to be the current batting champion. Peavy wins tonight, he gets 20 wins, a perfect compliment to the AL's Josh Beckett. But in order to get that win, I would ideally like him to 0-fer Holliday, whom with a theoretical 0-4 or 0-5 performance tonight, would solidify Atlanta's Chipper Jones as the batting champion for 2007. Yes, regardless of the award balloting goes, the votes are already in, contrary to what MLB.com wants you to believe. But in terms of statistics, Game 163 IS a regular-season game, and yes, these stats DO count.
• TBS is broadcasting this game - yesterday marked the final Braves broadcast on TBS, which was kind of a melancholy thing for me. I don't agree with the direction of the station, and they're doing everything to eliminate the past from the present from me, the dismissal of WCW pro-wrestling, and now the killing-off of Atlanta Braves baseball. They're even changing the channel number, from the "Channel 17" most people have grown accustomed to throughout the last three decades. Furthermore, with the killing of Braves on TBS, but the beginning of Postseason on TBS, I am curious to get a preview of the new crew - from what I know, it is Chip Caray and Cal Ripken, Jr. among a cast of who-knows-else. Like 'em or hate 'em, tonight's the night to get a sample of what we're going to be hearing for the next two weeks.
• It's Game 163. When was the last time we saw one? 1999? This is it, if there was ever one game to watch where two teams are going to leave it all out on the field, that is tonight. It's a playoff game, and yet it isn't. Tonight, loser goes home, and winner takes all. But winner taking all still means they have received nothing at all, except for a chance.
God, baseball is a wonderful thing.
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