A Modest Suggestion

Hey-hey, ho-ho, Bulls’ coach Fred Hoigberg has got to go!  Hey-hey, ho-ho….You get the idea.

I’ve come to this conclusion seven games into a 2-5 season after Monday’s 149-124 humiliation at the hands of the Golden State Warriors.  The game, if you can call it that, featured guard Klay Thompson (brother of Sox outfielder Trayce) setting an NBA record with 14 three-pointers, good for 52 points on the day in slightly under 27 minutes on the floor.  By the way, Golden State scored 92 points in the first half, second-most for the first two quarters of a game in NBA history.

Yes, the Bulls are banged up, trying to compete without the services of Kris Dunn, Lauri Markkanen, Bobby Portis and Denzel Valentine.  But you still have to play the hand they dealt you.  The problem with Hoiberg is he lets other people see his cards.

What has it been, three years ago since Jimmy Butler said he had to coach harder, two years since Butler and Dwayne Wade called out the younger players for lack of intensity?  Already, this season Jabari Parker has said his new team didn’t make the necessary adjustments in a blowout loss to Charlotte.  Whatever the sport, defense wins games, to say nothing of championships.  Guess whose responsibility that is?  Hint: not the players.

My God, the Bulls are a franchise whose identity is based on defense.  Long before Michael Jordan, there were Norm Van Lier and Jerry Sloan, long before Phil Jackson, Dick Motta.  Scott Skiles wouldn’t have allowed this level of ineptitude; ditto Tom Thibodeau.  Skiles and Thibodeau probably would’ve taken to tackling Thompson to keep him from scoring.

But in the world of owner Jerry Reinsdorf, loyalty outweighs ability.  Oh, Hoiberg may get fired sometime this season, when the stink and the empty seats become too much to ignore.  The point is, he should be fired now.

Survey Says....

According to a story in Variety, ratings for the World Series were the lowest they’ve been since the Giants-Royals’ matchup of 2014.  The only game to crack more than 14 million viewers was game five.  Game three’s 18-inning, 7-hour 20-minute extravaganza that spilled from Friday night into Saturday morning netted all of 13.3 million.  Maybe they started the game too early, 7:10 Central Time.  Just kidding.

But maybe people are getting really, really tired of all the ads.  Given baseball’s current infatuation with changing pitchers, every broadcast turns into an excuse to cut to commercials.  Worst of all are those split-screen ones, combining advertising with action.

The end of the national pastime as we know it lies down that path, my friends.

The Long and the Short of It

 Red Sox pitcher Chris Sale stands 6’6” and weighs all of 180 pounds.  As any White Sox fan knows, when Sale looks in the mirror, someone 80-100 pounds heavier stares back at him.  Red Sox first baseman-dh Steve Pearce stands 5’11”.  When Pearce looks in the mirror, he probably sees one lucky journeyman of a ballplayer who found himself at the right place and the right time.

According to the papers today, Sale went Sale—by which I mean he channeled the same part of himself that in 2016led him to pick up a pair of scissors to cut up White Sox throwback uniforms he detested—on Saturday in the Boston dugout with his team down 4-0 in the seventh inning.  That’s when the Incredible Hulk went into action.

With Dodgers’ starter Rick Hill holding the Red Sox scoreless, Sale shouted to his teammates, “He’s got two [stinking, frigging] pitches!” not once, not twice, but three times.  And that seemed to do the trick.  Boston scored three in the seventh, one in the eighth and five more in the ninth for a 9-6 win and a 3-1 series lead.

“It scared me a little bit,” admitted Red Sox third baseman Rafael Devers through an interpreter, “because I had never seen him yell like that, and the words that he was saying, I had never heard that come from him before.”  Trust me, Rafael, White Sox fans and players know all about that Chris Sale.

Pearce must’ve gotten the message, tying the score in the eighth with a homerun before launching a bases-loaded double in the ninth.  And no doubt Sale’s voice was still ringing in Pearce’s ears yesterday because Pearce hit two homeruns good for three runs.  Nothing says Series MVP like a two-run shot in the top of the first of what proved to be the deciding game for Boston.  Let me note here that Sale entered the game to strike out the side in the ninth, with Manny Machado ending the Series by nearly screwing himself into the ground with his last swing.

I can only hope that Yoan Moncada and Michael Kopech, the centerpieces of the trade for Sale, were watching; they could’ve learned something.  And I can only hope the White Sox front office realizes Sale is a free agent after 2019.  They could rectify something.

Nothing Personal

The White Sox attended to some minor business matters on Friday, removing four players from their 40-man roster.  Among those outrighted to the minors or lost on waivers were reliever Danny Farquhar and catcher Kevan Smith.

Farquhar suffered a brain aneurysm during a home game in late April and has made enough progress to earn a probable invitation to spring training; Smith fell victim to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  The Sox signed Welington Castillo last offseason to a two-year contract, leaving Smith in the minors despite a nice rookie season where he hit .283 with 30 RBIs.  Then Castillo got hit with an 80-game suspension for PEDs use, and Smith was called back up.  He responded by hitting .292.

Smith’s first homerun of the season came August 25^th in a game where he wore a jersey honoring former Sox pitcher Daniel Webb, a close friend who was killed in an ATV accident last October.  Smith at age 30 is a career .281 hitter.  That—and a reputation for knowing how to frame pitches—should count for something with his new team, the Angels, who aren’t exactly deep at catcher.  All you can say is our loss is their gain.

Baseball is a business, and the one the White Sox run has little room in it for sentiment.  Danny Farquhar and Kevan Smith are guys with more character than talent.  If they fit a need, fine; if someone else fits it better, bye-bye.  Given that mindset, a spot on the 40-man roster is all about talent, potential and the willingness to forgive a PEDs’ transgression.  

Star Power

I read a story in the NYT the other day about baseball’s lack of star power.  Judging by ESPN rankings and Instagram, baseball players just don’t stack up against the competition.  Thank God I’m too old to care.

Star power translates into money, for owners and players alike.  If MLB falls behind the NFL and/or the NBA, teams will be worth less; ditto broadcast deals and product endorsements, to say nothing of salaries.  Again, too old to care about what’s not my problem.

Baseball works just fine, if you let.  I met White Sox infielder Wayne Causey once and got his autograph; that made Causey the center of my galaxy.  I wasn’t even in high school at the time.  Decades after I’d graduated, I was able to secure autographs on a baseball from the likes of Luis Aparicio, Luke Appling, Minnie Minoso, Billy Pierce, Bill Skowron, Walt Williams (my favorite Sox player of all time), Bill Veeck and Hoyt Wilhelm.  Instagram that.

What counts for the long-term health of the game is player availability.  Fans have always craved access.  Take away the interaction, and you threaten the game’s very foundation.  New stadiums are designed to minimize that essential player-fan contact, e.g., outside the clubhouse or parking lot.  Fan conventions help address that problem while ballparks closed to pre-game batting practice only exacerbate it.

Clare met her White Sox hero up close and personal.  I’m sure after she had her picture taken with Frank Thomas, it made all the rounds on social media.  What counted, though, was the initial contact, and ESPN doesn’t rank (ex-)player accessibility.  A pity that.    

Another Team, Another Rebuild

Another Team, Another Rebuild

Jerry Reinsdorf owns the White Sox and the Bulls.  That means losing pretty much all year long if you’re a fan of both teams, like I am.  If only Mr. Reinsdorf cared to ask for my opinion.  I’ll give it anyway.

The rebuild of his baseball team has been marred by strikeouts and injuries.  The rebuild of his basketball team has been marred by injuries—three-fifths of the starting lineup and a top reserve—along with a lack of defense.  The Bulls have played four games so far this season, averaging 111.2 points a game.  That sounds impressive until you consider they’re giving up 117.5 points a game.  It’s time for someone to tell guard Zach LaVine that scoring 30 points a game—which LaVine has managed in all four games—doesn’t mean much if you give up 32 points a game on defense. 

Once upon a time, the Bulls had a guard by the name of Flynn Robinson, who could do just that.  They also had a guard by the name of Norm Van Lier, who understood the importance of defense.  Stormin’ Norman wore his floor burns like the badge of honor they were.  LaVine and the rest of the baby Bulls could use the example of Van Lier (along with his backcourt teammate, Jerry Sloan) if they want to avoid a second straight 50-loss season.

Halfway There

Either Dave Roberts is the worst manager in many a World Series, or the unluckiest.  Twice this Series, the Dodgers’ skipper has made pitching changes that have cost his team the game.  Personally, I’m leaning towards choice #1.

In the seventh inning of the first game, LA reliever Pedro Baez had struck out two and walked a batter, which put two runners on with two out.  Rather than have the righty reliever face left-handed hitting Rafael Devers, Roberts brought in lefthander Alex Wood.  Boston manager Alex Cora countered with a right-handed pinch hitter, Eduardo Nunez, who hit a three-run homer.  Me, I’m sticking with Baez, who was throwing nasty, high heat and who, according to The Athletic, had retired 32 straight left-handed hitters.

In the fifth inning of game two, Los Angeles starter Hyun-Jin Ryu found himself in a two-out, bases-loaded jam.  Rather than have the lefty face right-handed hitting Steve Pearce, Roberts summoned right-hander Ryan Madson.  Too bad for Roberts he couldn’t ask for a mulligan.  Madson proceeded to walk Pearce on five pitches and give up a two-run single to J.D. Martinez, another right-handed hitter.

The gutsy move would’ve been to keep Ryu in to face Pearce.  Why?  Because all Pearce managed against the Dodgers’ starters was two pop ups.  From what I could see, Ryu was what us old timers would call effectively wild, something that modern analytics doesn’t account for.  Oh, well.  Roberts went by the new-school book, and got the matchup he wanted.  Advantage, Red Sox.

One last thing:  When you change pitchers to get a matchup in the fifth inning of anything but game seven of the World Series, you’re in trouble.  But don’t tell the Dodgers.  On second thought, they probably wouldn’t understand.

Old-school Tally Sheet

Well, game one of the World Series looked to be more old school than new, at least for the victorious Red Sox:  5’9” Mookie Betts scored two runs; 5’10” Andrew Benintendi scored three to go with four hits; 6’0” Eduardo Nuñez did launch-angle honors with a three-run, pinch-hit homerun in the bottom of the seventh; and the Red Sox actually ran the bases, even if dh J.D. Martinez didn’t look good in his steal attempt.  And maybe I should mention here that the Red Sox (I can’t say “Sox” because to me “Sox” can only mean “White Sox”) have elected to carry a mere eleven pitchers, as opposed to twelve for the Dodgers.

Yeah, there was more new-school stuff than what I would’ve liked, but what can you do?  The Red Sox basically emptied out their bullpen after starting Chris Sale, the first of seven pitchers for the Carmines (hello, Hawkeroo).  The Dodgers went with five, so, if you add it up, that comes to twelve pitchers in a game that went eight minutes short of four hours.  Well, at least the Fox Network didn’t go into heavy promo mode for any of its new shows.

Count your old-school blessings, I say.

Special K(s)

I couldn’t help myself.  With Chris Sale slated to open the World Series for Boston, I just had to look.  But now I wish I hadn’t.  The list of most strikeouts by hitters in a regular season is not for the faint of heart.  You hear me, White Sox fans?

Be forewarned that we have two of the top four, with Adam Dunn at 222 in 2012 and Yoan Moncada at 217 this season.  Just imagine.  If the Sox hadn’t sat Moncada so much, he would’ve broken the record, giving us first- and second-place!  Whoopee!!

It gets worse.  You have to go down to 29^th place (Trevor Story) before you can find another middle infielder listed.   After that, it’s Danny Espinosa in a tie at 31^st, Jose Hernandez at 34^th and Ian Desmond in a tie at 35^th.   And you would want which of these players?  Maybe Story because he cut down on his strikeouts to 168 (!) this year while hitting .291 with 108 RBIs.  But remember, he’s playing half his games in sky-high Coors Field.

Chris Sale struck out 237 batters this year; Yoan Moncada struck out 217 times.  Maybe the White Sox were confused and thought they were getting a second starter to go with Michael Kopech and not a middle infielder from Boston.  It wouldn’t be the first time our front office has screwed up, or should I say dropped the ball?

Vocab

Vocab

My father had two terms I struggled mightily not to be tagged with—clown and mope. That he loved the circus, which tends to go heavy on clowns, is a mystery I can’t explain.  Anyway, he would call Donald Trump a clown and Bill Belichick a mope.

The Patriots’ coach is nothing if not unpleasant, sort of like Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Roger Chillingworth of Scarlet Letter fame come to life to wander the New England sideline every Sunday afternoon.  Bill-Chill was on full display yesterday at Soldier Field during the Patriots’ 38-31 win over the Bears.  Belichick appears incapable of expressing joy, compassion or humor in amounts enough for the camera to capture.  The man may as well be artificial intelligence wrapped in a bad meat suit.

Oh, I know, New England fans love their coach, which is to say the love the eight Super Bowl appearances Belichick teams have made and, especially, the five championships they’ve won.  So what if he cheats or runs players into the ground or can’t see anything wrong with the monster formerly known as Aaron Hernandez?  Man, he’s got five rings.

If I’m on a desert island with room for one more person to keep me company for the indefinite future, I’ll take the clown over the mope, Joe Maddon over Belichick, any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.  

Thelma

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who’ve had basset hounds and those who haven’t.  The second group has no ideas what it’s missing.

I probably first saw—and then wanted—a basset after seeing Elvis Presley perform “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog” on TV.  My first basset, Willie, actually belonged to a neighbor across the alley from us in our first home, before Clare was born.  Willie got out of his yard one day and made it to the end of the block when I happened to see him.  So, I called after him, and true basset hound that he was, he came running at me.  That was a mistake on my part.

As Willie closed in on his target, I realized how much he looked like a torpedo mounted on short legs.  Somehow, I survived the hit and came away with an appreciation for the attributes of the breed.  Think of them as canine bumble bees, defying their physical limitations to accomplish the impossible.  Bassets can’t fly, but they’re sneaky fast like Willie and capable of jumping onto just about any piece of furniture.  They are also very good at training humans.

Our dog was intelligent, stubborn and loving.  She figured out on her own that the timer going off in the kitchen meant food was ready, and she barked at Michele to make sure nothing got burned; she would also run into the living room to get me when dinner was on the table.  After dinner, she would bark at me to chase her (all three of our bassets have loved to be chased, one preferably with a broom), or she pushed her bed from the living room into the dining room to keep an eye on me if I decided to read at the kitchen table.  But God forbid if I wanted to give her a bath.  She hated that more than the devil does holy water, as my father would say.

Neither fireworks nor thunder ever bothered Thelma; she valued her sleep too much to be roused by an M-80 or thunderclap.  About the only thing she couldn’t handle was softball.  The instant she saw Clare put on her uniform, Thelma would get upset because she knew her humans were about to abandon her.

There was this one time in travel ball when we left the house at five in the morning because you had to be at the field an hour before game time, and the field that day was in far-off Kankakee.  Think Bataan Death March to get an idea of that Saturday in June of 2008.  We didn’t get back until one in the morning the following day.  We had no idea what to expect.

The kitchen and dining room were fine, but the living room bore signs of, well, a statement.  Thelma had knocked down a picture of Clare in uniform, and chewed it up.  You don’t mess with a basset hound, but you do miss them—terribly—once they’re gone.  I know I do.      

This is Your Answer?

Starting next season, the NBA will start offering something called “select contracts” paying $125,000 to elite-level 18-year olds who want to play a year of G-League ball before entering the draft.  This is the league’s response to the one-and-done phenomenon of players playing one year of college before turning pro.  But it doesn’t strike me as much of a response.

For openers, how do you define “elite”?  Just about any 18-year old with hoop dreams will think he qualifies.  This will mean lawsuits and/or publicity nightmares centering on poor, talented kids frozen out by an arbitrary system.  Good luck with that.

And with those 18-years suddenly $125,000 richer; they’re supposed to play in the NBA version of the minor leagues but not belong to any one team the way other G-League players do?  In that case, how will the coaching work?  If these young players don’t feel a connection to the teams they’re on, why would they listen to some guy who’ll be out of their lives in twelve months telling them how to box out or set a pick?

It’s a good thing wiser minds than mine have thought this out.  

Just a Bump in the Road

This is where I could point out that Chris Sale is going to the World Series with somebody else’s Sox or that in exchange for Sale my Sox received a package of “prospects” including a strikeout-prone infielder and a Tommy-John-fixed (I hope) pitcher, but I want to look at some other rebuilds instead.  Think of it as misery loving company.

Along those lines, consider the last three World Series winners: Royals, Cubs and Astros, all touted as model rebuilds.  Only the Royals, a mere three years from their championship, went 58-104 this season.  In fact, Kansas City’s playoff run lasted all of two years, 2014-15, and their string of above-.500 seasons ended at three.  Can anyone out there name the current core of rebuild talent in KC, different from the old rebuild talent?

The Royals were followed as champions by the Cubs, who’ve made the playoffs four straight years, the same length of time they been over .500 during the Theo Epstein regime.  But the North Siders seem to be going in the wrong direction, from World Series crown to losses in the NLCS and wildcard games the last two seasons, respectively.  That would indicate a downward trend, don’t you think?

I also wonder about the Astros.  Their vaunted rebuild has equated to one championship, one loss in the ALCS and four straight years over .500.  But all of a sudden star shortstop Carlos Correa has back issues, and perpetual-hitting-machine Jose Altuve has something going on with his hamstring, both of which could become chronic.  We’ll see soon enough.

Two playoff teams this year, the Red Sox and Brewers, have taken different approaches to stocking their rosters.  The Red Sox followed their World Series win in 2013 with two losing seasons and three 90-plus-win seasons after that.  They’re doing what I call a big-market rebuild, combining smart draft choices and international signings (Andrew Benintendi, Rafael Devers); trades (as in Chris Sale); and free-agent signings (J.D. Martinez).  As for the Brewers, they seem to be channeling former Sox GM Kenny Williams, circa 2005.  Milwaukee has done a little of this, a little of that on a modest budget.  Most of the time it’s not enough, but sometimes—2005, right Kenny?—you catch lightning in a bottle.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the Astros and Brewers go the way of the Royals.  The Cubs?  Well, they have the financial wherewithal of a major-market team, and they have the smarts of Theo Epstein.  That suggests aggressive moves to keep from sliding into White-Sox-like irrelevance.  I hope I’m wrong, though.

Buyer Beware

Soon-to-be free agent Manny Machado isn’t exactly helping his cause during this NLCS.  For starters, there was his lack of hustle in game two against the Brewers.  The 26-year old didn’t run out a hard grounder that turned into a double-play.  Afterwards, the Dodgers’ shortstop sounded both contrite, and not, telling Fox Sports’ Ken Rosenthal “there’s no excuse” for not running while at the same time noting he’s not a “Johnny Hustle” kind of player who risks injury by doing everything he can to beat the throw at first, including a head-first slide.  You see, that’s not Machado’s “cup of tea.”  Do tell.

Wait, there’s more.  In game three, Machado twice slid into second base trying to break up a double play.  He went one for two in that regard, and by that I mean the umpires invoked the “Utley Rule” for unnecessary—and potentially dangerous contact—by the runner sliding into second base; the umpires could have called it both times but gave Machado a break because in one instance Milwaukee shortstop Orlando Arcia made no effort to throw to first. That’s what you might call Dodger dodging.

And, yes, there’s still more.  In the tenth inning of game four, Machado kicked the back leg of first baseman Jesus Aguilar with his left foot as he ran—nay, hustled—down the line.  Words were exchanged and both benches cleared in what may have been Machado channeling his inner A-Rod.  I don’t know if that’s a good idea for someone looking for a free-agent deal in the neighborhood of $300 million.

Personally, I take great care in charging a ballplayer with lack of hustle.  As a White Sox fan, I watched A.J. Pierzynski trot to first on many a groundball during his eight-year tenure with the Sox.  But there’s a difference between a good player dogging it and a great player—which is how Machado wants to be paid—going slow.  You want the face of the franchise to be like Caesar’s wife, beyond all reproach.

Marquee players are the ones known for giving their all, even on a sure-out groundball to short.  It’s the immature player who doesn’t always hustle, wonders why he’s like that and then shows little regard for the safety of opposing players.  Only a team looking for trouble signs a player like that to a big contract.    

Thin-skinned

The Bears had better win a lot more games than they lose under coach Matt Nagy, that or Nagy needs to get himself a thicker skin.  Judging by comments Nagy made after the Bears’ 31-28 loss to the Dolphins in overtime Sunday, I’d say the rookie coach has a hard time handling criticism.

The Bears kept getting the lead in the second half against Miami, only to give it back.  The Monsters of the Midway were also incredibly generous with turnovers, which consisted oftwo lost fumbles and an interception.  Still, they had a chance to win the game after recovering a fumble at their own goal line.  Only things got weird fast.

Nagy has distinguished himself from his last three predecessors with aggressive play-calling; there are Bears’ fans who have grown up and turned gray without seeing an offense willing to throw in the middle of the field.  Nagy does this, or did until the Bears recovered that fumble.  Then he got all Lovie Smith/John Fox-y conservative.  Rather than throw the ball on third and four at the Miami 35, Nagy ran the ball for no gain, and kicker Cody Parkey proceeded to miss right with what would have been the game-winning, 53-yard field goal.

Addressing reporters afterwards, Nagy said he had no regrets over his decision to run the ball. He wouldn’t second-guess himself (though he did find it hard to use the second person correctly):  “You could do that [second-guessing] all day long.  You go ahead, you [who, reporters or the Bears?] throw it and then you’re up here asking me why you [again, who?] took a sack.  So, you [who, who?] could go all day long with that kind of stuff.”

A little self-reflection would’ve been the smart call here, coach.   

Gone

Over the weekend, the Knicks announced that they were  releasing center Joakim Noah.  Beneficiary of a $72-million deal from now-departed Knicks’ president Phil “Has Anyone Seen My Posterior?” Jackson, Noah was such a bust over two seasons that New York is willing to eat the $37.8 million remaining on his contract.

I’m probably the only Bulls’ fan without room in his heart for Noah, a very popular ex-Bull.  Yes, he hustled and played selfless basketball here for nine seasons, and, yes, he’s given time and money to an anti-violence initiative, but for me it was all about first impressions.  In 2008, Noah’s teammates voted unanimously to double the rookie’s one-game suspension for fighting with an assistant coach.  Noah acted as if he were entitled.

And let’s not forget Noah’s 20-game suspension for failing a drug test in 2017 or how his Knicks’ career ended in February of this year by getting into a shoving match with then-coach Jeff Hornacek.  None of this makes Joakim Noah a bad person.  If anything, the incidents show Noah to be no different than anyone else.  It’s just that I like star athletes to carry themselves with a certain degree of class.  Failing that, they should at least be smart enough to know who they can get into a fight with.

Baseball, of a Sort

This isn’t likely your father’s brand of baseball, or anything I recognize as standard.  No, “bullpenning” has become all the rage this season, just like “launch angle” did last year.

In game one of the NLCS, Milwaukee went with starter Gio Gonzalez for all of two innings.  The Brewers went on to use another six pitchers—including super reliever Josh Hader for three innings—in a 6-5 win over the Dodgers.  Let it be known that LA topped out at six pitchers.

Let’s do some quick math here.  The two teams combined for thirteen pitchers giving up eleven runs on nineteen hits.  Now compare that to game seven of the Pirates-Yankees 1960 World Series, which Pittsburgh won 10-9.  Both teams used just nine pitchers giving up nineteen runs on 24 hits.  Oh, and the World Series game took 2:36 to play compared to 4:02 for the NLCS contest.

The Brewers used six pitchers the next day, only they couldn’t bring back Hader without risk of injury or fatigue.  Whatever the Milwaukee strategy is, the Brewers’ pen gave up four runs, leading to a 4-3 loss.  I’ll sit quietly now until someone can explain to me what’s going on and how it makes for good baseball.

Back to the (Plastic) Future

The Arizona Diamondbacks announced they’re going to install an artificial surface at Chase Field in time for next year.  If you can believe what you read, it won’t be anything like AstroTurf, no, sir.  This surface will play like natural turf, look like natural turf and respect players’ legs like natural turf.  And I am the Easter Bunny.

The Diamonbacks are touting the switch as being good for the environment.  Chase Field has a retractable dome, which is often kept open during the day so the grass can get sufficient sunlight.  Only an open roof lets in the Arizona heat, which requires the air conditioning to work that much harder to cool down the stadium.  And no grass means no water wasted on nonessential sprinkling.  Wow, the Diamondbacks should get an award for being so (artificially) green.

Many if not most of the hot-weather teams suffer attendance problems.  Tampa, Miami, Texas and Arizona are all franchises with pretty shallow roots; until recently, you could say the same about the Astros.  The grass may be trying to tell MLB something:  Don’t locate where Kentucky bluegrass doesn’t want to grow.

Hitting

The Cubs dumped hitting coach Chili Davis after one year on the job.  Davis stressed contact and situational hitting, something the front office wanted until it didn’t.  The team seems to be going back to a launch-angle approach.

Dumping Davis is good, bad and beside the point all at once.  What’s good is that players need to see there are consequences to bad play.  You don’t produce, somebody is going to suffer.  The move is bad, at least to me, because I go for hard contact and situational hitting over launch angle every time.  It’s beside the point because you can lead a horse to water….

Nobody develops a style of hitting or pitching in order to fail; players do what feels natural.  In part the job of a coach is to show that sometimes what feels good isn’t working all that much.  The coach has to earn the player’s trust in order to offer fixes.  No trust, no fix, no job.  It’s the way of sports.

When Clare was starting off in high school, she had travel coaches and a hitting coach who had differing philosophies, V-load vs. L-load.  All a 14-year old wants to do is feel comfortable at the plate, not learn a new language in order to receive instruction.  I always tried to keep it simple—see ball, hit ball, but with a twist.  Do you really see the ball, or is your head pulling off?  Why?  If you’re seeing the ball, why aren’t you making better contact?  It’s a wonder young ballplayers don’t go on killing sprees.

Chili Davis had over 2300 hits and 1300 RBIs in a career that spanned nineteen years.  To me, those numbers offer the gravitas a hitting coach needs when trying to convince reluctant players to try a different approach.  He was pretty successful in previous stints with the A’s and Red Sox.  I’d take him over Todd Steverson of the White Sox in a heartbeat.

Bad and Worse

Here’s the difference between MLB umpires Angel Hernandez and Joe West—Hernandez looks to be a decent human being who happens to be a bad umpire.  West is bad across the board.

Hernandez worked the Red Sox-Yankees’ ALDS, and things didn’t go well for the 27-year veteran  On Monday, Hernandez had four calls at first base reviewed, leading to three reversals.  Tuesday, he moved behind the plate, much to the irritation of New York starter CC Sabathia.  After the game, which the Yankees lost along with the series, Sabathia told reporters, “I need to say this.  I don’t think Angel Hernandez should be umping playoff games.  He’s absolutely terrible.”  There are some numbers to back up Sabathia’s claim, at least for first base.

According to Sports Info Solutions, Hernandez had 14 of 18 reviewed calls at first base overturned the last three seasons of regular play.  That comes out to a 78-percent reversal rate.  But here’s the kicker.  The average reversal rate at first base was 60 percent.  In other words, nobody else on average was getting it right even half the time when challenged.  Holy Joe West!

I’ve watched Hernandez a number of years now.  It’s always struck me how he goes out of his way to be friendly to players as opposed to, say, Joe West, who treats ballplayers as a cross between vermin and chewing gum on the sole of his shoe.  This summer I saw something else, what looked to be a rosary wrapped around one of Hernandez’s wrists.  If nothing else, a prayerful umpire is a humble umpire.

If only that make him a good umpire.

Fall Ball

It’s not the World Series I connect with October so much as Clare playing fall ball of one sort or another.  At a scrimmage her sophomore year at Elmhurst, I watched my daughter go five for six, with a homerun and two doubles.  And, yes, the only out was a line drive. 

A good ten years before that, she was playing fall-ball baseball.  One year, she was on a team where the coach muttered threats at anyone who crossed him.  Another year, third grade to be precise, Clare was playing as late as 10 PM on a school night.  Michele wasn’t happy, but our daughter couldn’t have cared less.  There were baseballs for her to hit and catch.

Basically, playing October baseball helped Clare become a four-year starter on her high school team.  Her first coach went on to become the softball coach at her high school.  Long story short, Euks liked the way Clare hustled, and Clare liked her coach.  Even as an eight-year old, she ran hard and swung harder.

Euks didn’t treat her as a girl, which was good, and he didn’t treat her as a hopeless case, the way I saw another coach do with a kid.  I was coaching first base when the opposing coach called out for his first baseman to hold the runner, only nothing happened.  He yelled again, nothing, and again, and again, nothing.  Finally, the coach asked me to show the boy how to do it.

You can only wonder what kind of impression that made on the kid.  I remember having lunch once with an editor for a university press.  When our conversation turned to sports, he spoke with great relish about the decline and death of a Little League coach who had treated him poorly as a player.  I’m afraid there are a lot of adults walking around with that kind of hurt, but I doubt Clare is one of them. 

So, I’ll probably end up watching the World Series; after all, I have a pizza riding on the outcome.  Just don’t be surprised if my thoughts wander to other Octobers and a girl who hit during them. 

War

Game three of the Yankees-Red Sox ALDS reminded me of a scene in “Band of Brothers” where Lt. Winters urges his men on against the advancing Germans—Let ’em have it!  Pour it on!  The Red Sox did just that to the tune of a 16-1 shellacking at Yankee Stadium. 

I also thought of the Today Show piece I happened to see, about an A’s fan and a Yankees’ fan who reconnected after the A’s-Yankees’ wildcard game.  During the first connection, if you will, the Yankees’ fan dumped a beer on the A’s fan.  But all is good now.  Right.

An NYT columnist wrote that Yankees’ manager Aaron Boone misused the bullpen early on in that game-three debacle, thereby quieting “a frothy Bronx crowd,” which is NYT-ese for “a bunch of drunken clowns.”  I can only wonder what the Post and Daily News made of Boone’s pitching choices.  They probably wanted that Yankees’ fan to dump beer on Boone.

Game four of the ALDS was even better than game three—the Red Sox taking (and keeping an early lead); Chris Sale pitching a perfect inning of relief; and the Yankees scoring two runs in the bottom of the ninth to come up one run short.  Something to think about on your way home, Yankee fans.  Oh, and Boston advances to the ALCS.

Let ’em have it.  Pour it on.

Fandom

Being a fan is an odd business.  Inevitably, there comes a point when you end up rooting for some very bad players and against some very good ones.  Just ask any White Sox fan.

I found myself acting this very same way on Sunday.  The Bears had an early-season bye, so I rode my exercyle to the Lions-Packers’ game.  Why I hate Aaron Rodgers so much, I can’t say for sure.  Maybe it’s the fact that Rodgers has a 16-4career record against the Bears with just under 1,000 touchdown passes—Exaggeration?  If so, not by much—or that Rodgers represents everything Bears’ have rarely if ever been.  Your choice.  Whatever the reason, I probably got the bike going 10 mph faster each of the two times Rodgers was stripped-sacked.

The Lions won, 31-23, mostly because Green Bay kicker Mason Crosby missed four field-goal attempts.  I would’ve preferred four Rodgers’ pick-sixes, but it’ll do.  I have in-laws who bleed Packers’ green and yellow.  Sorry, no can do.  Just call me an odd Bears’ fan.  A quarter of the way through the season and the Monsters of the Midway lead the NFC.

Take that, Cheeseheads.        

Eight and Counting

The Tribune ran an interesting story the other day about the growing number of Illinois high schools offering eight-player football.  It’s taking hold in rural areas and small towns, where declining enrollment has combined with a growing concern over concussions to cut into football’s popularity.  This got me to wondering.  Could the same ever happen to varsity baseball?

Maybe right field would be closed or third base would be combined with shortstop.  Or girls could play on varsity to keep all nine positions filled.  No, I think administrators and coaches would rather go with fewer boys on a team than a team of boys and girls.  Their loss. 

Second City

I am a Chicagoan by birth and inclination, down to my love-(mostly) hate relationship with New York City.  Obsessing on the Yankees takes up way too much of my time.

Maybe that’s what led me to think a conspiracy was afoot going into the AL wildcard game, with the A’s deciding to start Liam Hendriks.  Hendriks was 0-1 with a 4.13 ERA, pretty much what you’d expect of a pitcher designated for assignment by Oakland in June.  But the A’s saw something in Hendriks’ career stats of 12-22 and 4.72 ERA that made them think they could win at Yankee Stadium.  Final score: New York 7 Oakland 2.  And they talk about the Black Sox?

This weekend, I’ve been watching the Yankees play the Red Sox in the ALDS.  (By the way, thank you, Chris Sale, for winning game one).  Looking at the Yankees’ lineup, I couldn’t help but wonder what White Sox player could make it.  Yoan Moncada or Gleyber Torres at second base?  Tim Anderson or Didi Gregorius at shortstop? Yolmer Sanchez or Miguel Andujar at third base?  Heck, Jose Abreu or half-year wonder Luke Voit at first?  Also consider that only Gregorius developed incrementally, which is what the White Sox are hoping for—or deluding themselves about—Moncada and Anderson.  The other three are virtual rookies who’ve made an instant impact on these 21^st century Bronx Bombers.   

Over on the Boston side, the Red Sox started 36-year old Ian Kinsler at second base instead of Moncada.  You could say that’s the price they had to pay in order to get Sale.  I’ll bet they’d be willing to do that eight days a week, if not more.  But Michael Kopech should be up and about for the 2020 season.

Second-city syndrome, yeah, I got it bad.

And if He Were a Woman?

The White Sox want you to know they’re not at all worried about outfielder Louis Robert, their #4 prospect and, according to MLB Pipeline, the 44^th best in all of baseball.  Just because the 21-year old didn’t hit a homerun this past season doesn’t mean he won’t in the future.  Team officials are sure the lack of power was due to a nagging thumb injury.

Well, let’s hope so.  The international signing of this young Cuban star is going to cost the Sox an estimated $50 million.  No Sox fan wants this to be another waste of money a la Adam Dunn, but still, I have to wonder.  What would happen if Robert were a girl, and one signed for that much money?  I doubt fans would be so forgiving.

Fear of (yet more) flops may be one of the motivations that keeps teams from signing female ballplayers.  If, God forbid, Robert were to go the way of Dunn and Adam LaRoche, do you think they’d want to stick their necks out on someone named Clare or Liz?  Virtually every team in major-league baseball has a Dunn and LaRoche in its front-office closet, which is to say virtually every team has an incentive to ignore women players.

If there’s such a thing as reincarnation, I can only hope that Branch Rickey comes back as another Branch Rickey and he likes “A League of Their Own.”

Old-school Baseball

How ironic that something as contrived—or “new,” to use an adjective more in keeping with MLB tastes—as the wildcard game featured some old-school baseball.  Not that Alex Rodriguez noticed.  He was too busy speaking in purple prose.

What A-Rod and nearly everyone else missed was the composition of the rosters employed by the Cubs and Rockies.  Unlike five- and seven-games series in the playoffs, the wildcard necessitates carrying just one starter, which frees up several roster spots.  The Cubs opted to go with a six-player bench, the Rockies with seven.  And it made all the difference.

The Cubs were able to tie the game in the bottom of the eighth by using Terrance Gore as a pinch runner for Anthony Rizzo after Rizzo singled; Gore promptly stole second base and probably could have stolen third, too, if he had wanted.  Stolen bases are his specialty, to the tune of 27 in his career vs. one base hit.  Gore can’t steal first base, but he can swipe the others if used to pinch run for someone.  With Gore at second, Javier Baez doubled to tie the game at one.

That’s where the score stood until the 13^th inning, when catcher Tony Wolters, he of the .170 regular season batting average, singled in what proved to be the winning run.  Wolters was the third catcher of the night for Colorado.  That’s what a long bench will do for you.

The Cubs may have ended up one run short on account of being one position player short.  That extra pitcher they went with meant they had no one to pinch hit for Gore, who played left field after running for Rizzo.  Gore struck out twice in two at-bats, the second time on a full count leading off the bottom of the 13^th.  Oh, my kingdom for a horse, or a pinch hitter like Smokey Burgess or Gates Brown.

The Rockies will be reverting to form with twelve pitchers for the NLDS.  The Brewers are going with eleven.  The team with the longer bench wins.  You can book on it.

Crowd Size

The Associated Press reports that MLB attendance was down four percent this season, to its lowest point since 2003, back when steroids saved the game.  Something in that is ever so fitting.

The AP also noted that six teams—Orioles, White Sox, Twins, Marlins, Reds and Pirates—all recorded their lowest attendance ever in their fancy new homes.  And to think of all those times owners said new (and publicly subsidized or owned) facilities would be economic engines for their respective communities.  Yeah, right.  The federal deficit will be eliminated before a publicly funded pro sports’ stadium stops costing more than it’s worth.

No doubt MLB Commissioner Rob Manford will move to address the attendance dip.  He’ll recommend yet more changes to quicken the pace of the game, only they won’t, at which point he’ll whistle past the graveyard by saying things aren’t that bad, after all.  Rob, the attendance numbers don’t lie, just the people interpreting them.

Baseball is addicted to ad revenue, and not one team in thirty wants to stop being a junkie.  So, the TV ads will continue to bloat the time of a game while sabermetrics will continue to dictate one particular style of play—homeruns, strikeouts and bullpens, all of which increases the time of a game even more.  Until someone shows the value of a long bench, contact hitting and stolen bases, the national pastime better get used to shrinking attendance.

It’s not going to get better.

Acorn and Tree

What’s the old saying, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree?  Well, that’s certainly true for a certain father and daughter.

The start of the week was pretty stressful for Clare and me, given our dislike for the Cubs.  But to see ex-White Sox reliever Joakim Soria strike out Javier Baez with two runners on to close out the sixth inning of what would be a Brewers’ win (for the Central Division title) in game #163 of the season certainly worked wonders.  And then to see Baez strike out again (sorry, not a fan of players who need to beat their chests all the time) in the 13^th inning of the Rockies’ win of the wildcard sport, well, that made staying up past midnight well worth it.

Michele had to be the go-between all Tuesday night because I don’t like to text.  Daughter would text a remark to mother who read it aloud to father who dictated an always-pithy response to be texted back.  When the go-between went to bed at 10:30, there went our link, though it came back this morning.  “Did Dad tell you the good news?” our delighted child, White Sox fan and Cub hater, texted.  Oh, yes, he did, as soon as he climbed into bed.  Back-to-back games at Wrigley Field leading to two champagne celebrations, both by the visiting teams?  That, too, is a White Sox winner.  

 And now a few South Side observations about our foe to the north.  For starters, all that Maddon magic dust Cubs’ manager Joe Maddon once had is gone.  Where once everything Maddon did—from batting his pitchers eighth to putting slugger Anthony Rizzo in the leadoff spot—worked to irritating perfection, now the guy can’t seem to catch a break.  Maddon bats reliever Pedro Strop, Strop gets injured.  Maddon goes to the bullpen, it implodes.  Maddon shuffles his lineup, nobody hits.  It almost makes me feel sorry for him.

The offseason should be pretty interesting on the North Side.  There are rumors Maddon has fallen out of favor with the Cubs’ front office and will get dumped; we’ll see.  I think some trades and another free-agent signing are more likely.  The Ricketts have created a money machine in Wrigleyville.  What good is that if you don’t spend the cash generated?

I think two of the following will be traded: slugger-without-a-position Kyle Schwarber; third baseman Kris Bryant; centerfielder Albert Almora.  At the least, the return from those deals should make the team younger.  I also think the North Siders will make serious offers to free agents, in particular infielder Manny Machado and/or outfielder Bryce Harper.

Remember, you read it here first.

Oh, Mr. Fox

John Fox was a miserable coach of the Bears, never more so with his spotty use of talented rookie running back/receiver Tarik Cohen last season.  Fox tried to explain his “thinking” this way:  “Sometimes, the defense dictates who gets the ball.”  That, folks, is a textbook example of defeatism.

Thankfully, Fox’s replacement doesn’t look to be having any of it.  On Sunday, new coach Matt Nagy found a way for Cohen to play often enough against the Buccaneers to gain 53 yards rushing on 13 carries and 121 yards receiving on seven catches.

John Fox now works as analyst for ESPN.  How about someone over there asking the ex-coach about Nagy’s use of Cohen?  That would be delightful, seeing Fox turn all blue and sputter gibberish just like he did after a loss with the Bears.      

Ladies and Gentlemen, Your 2018 Chicago White Sox

 There we were Sunday afternoon on the living-room couch, father and daughter, two “authentic fans” if ever there were, watching our beloved White Sox on their unstoppable march to 100 losses.  It took the last game of the season to get there, but never say “never,” right?

Does 62-100 qualify as darkest before the dawn in a rebuild?  I wonder.  The pessimist, no, the realist, in me can look at any number of areas to see cause for worry over the chances of yet more losing seasons into the distant future.  You need go no further than the coaching staff.

Everyone is slated to come back, pending job offers from other organizations (yeah, that’s going to happen).  But why, exactly, do pitching coach Don Cooper and hitting coach Todd Steverson deserve another year of employment on the South Side.  What exactly have they accomplished?

Cooper mostly sits in the dugout working on his grumpy-old-man routine; he’s been doing this for seventeen years now.  For the life of me, I can’t see what he brings to the table.  The Sox have collected a bunch of young pitchers for Cooper to work with, and all he does is meander to the mound when one of his pupils gets into trouble, which they did a whole lot in 2018.

Lucas Giolito had a 9.27 ERA in September and finished with a 6.13 ERA to go with a league-leading 90 walks in 173.1 innings.  That season ERA, by the way, is the worst for any starter in either league.  With a little more time, Carlos Rodon might have matched Giolito.  Rodon certainly seemed like he wanted to.

The lefty gave up 14 earned runs in his last two starts, which totaled all of 3.1 innings.  That was long enough for Rodon to yield 15 hits and four walks.  Oh, and he struck out five.  So, again, I ask, what did Don Cooper do this year—or basically, any year—to deserve retention?

The same goes for hitting coach Don Steverson.  All you need to know here is that the Sox set a major-league record with 1594 strikeouts on the season. Yoan Moncada “led” in that category with 217 Ks in 578 at-bats followed by Matt Davidson with 165 in 434; Daniel Palka with 153 in 417; and Tim Anderson with 149 in 567 at-bats.  It pains me to say this, but I doubt Davidson is ever going to hit above .230.  It’s time to look for your right-handed power elsewhere.

But Moncada and Anderson are considered cornerstones of the rebuild, so they stay, in which case, get them a new coach.  The same goes for Palka, who came out of nowhere to hit a team-best 27 homeruns with 67 RBIs, good for second behind Jose Abreu.  Palka also hit .240, higher than either Moncada or Davidson and tied with Anderson.  Again, what we need here is a new coach.

And might I suggest people with a pulse?  Better yet, how about people with stats to back them up?  Both Cooper and Steverson were cup-of-coffee major leaguers.  That just won’t cut it.  Young players especially need to get instruction from coaches who succeeded at the major-league level, not as HOFers necessarily, but as solid contributors over nice, long careers.

But I won’t hold my breath.