Is it still a numbers game?

Much has been written about the travesty that surrounds an obvious juicer taking the home run record. Much should be written. But where is the perspective? What has baseball truly lost?

To know that, one must know baseball. It is a game, more than any other, driven by numbers. Numbers provide the basis for hall of fame admission. They are used by fans to play games like Strat-O-Matic baseball and Diamond Mind simulations. Heck, there is even an entire industry of Sabermatricians that try to find new numbers in baseball.

When I was twelve, I remember studying US history as a sixth grader. I was amazed in March of that year when, after months of wars, constitutions and presidents, I turned the page to see a picture of a man playing baseball. It was Babe Ruth.

If you grew up when I did, you couldn’t study the history of the roaring 20’s without studying the impact of baseball on American culture. Babe didn’t just redefine baseball, he redefined America. It was in my freakin’ history book. I got to be tested on it. And it was because the Babe captivated the nation with his ability to hit the ball a long, long way. Babe’s home runs made baseball. And as every fan knows, he hit 714 of them.

After the Babe there were two immutable truths; baseball was THE sport, and in a sport of numbers, the homer was THE number.

From 1920 to 1994, Babe set the standard for home runs. Sure, his single season mark fell (by one) in 1961, and his career mark fell to Hank. But neither record was obliterated. Hank and Maris met the Babe’s standard, but the standard didn’t change.

Baseball was still the sport I’d read about in the grammar school history books.

During the “steroid era” the home run has changed dramatically. In the 75 seasons between 1920 and 1994, 18 times a player hit 50 or more homers; twice during that time span a player hit 60 or more. In the twelve full seasons since 1994, a player has hit 50 plus homers 21 times; six times a player has exceeded 60 homers. Steroids have, to state the obvious, brought us more home runs.

And in the process, the home run has lost luster. Fans outside San Francisco can sense something is being stolen, but I’m not sure they truly know what. We’re losing context for the home run. Without context, numerical debates are impossible.

None of you can tell me, without looking, how many yards Emmitt Smith has rushed for. We have no context to evaluate Emmitt Smith’s rushing ability. At least no historic context. The difference between what Smith did and what Jim Brown did is impossible to know. Football has changed too much. This is why it’s impossible to have a solid debate on who belongs in the NFL Hall of Fame. When is the last time you heard a numbers driven football HOF debate?
And in football, who cares? The NFL isn’t built on numbers.

Baseball numbers were eternal. They provided context for fans of today to compare our hero’s to our Dad’s hero’s.

But we have no context for Barry. He’s an obvious talent achieving something with chemical help not available to Ruth or Aaron. Is what Barry is doing remarkable? Ask me again in 20 years. Ask me when another generation has had the opportunity to juice and hit homers.

Numbers are the essence of baseball, and the home run was King of all numbers. It’s not just another number, it’s THE number; the stat that brought baseball from a sport to a national obsession worthy of mention in academia. And when Barry’s 756 settled over the fence, it was the final nail in the coffin of the context for the home run.

For a sport built on numbers, that’s a lot to lose; especially when the number lost was the number that put baseball in my history book.

Barry...oh what might have been

Somewhere in a parallel universe, which diverged from our own in 1998, the following column was written.

In 2001, when Barry Bonds retired as a 37 year old, he was the paramour of baseball. As the Major Leagues first 500/500 man, a feat largely due to his increased focus on the steal during 1999 and 2000, his accomplishments were due obvious respect.

Yet he retired with at least something left in the tank. Perhaps he loved the game, but didn’t feel he’d ever get respect. Perhaps he should now.

During his career, Bonds persona appeared nearly bi-polar. He was abrasive to the press, a distant teammate, and downright ignorant of his actions effects on fans. At the same time, his charismatic smile and sometimes beaming personality could have made him a natural on Madison Avenue.

That Bonds knew he could have been the latter, and couldn’t control the former, always seem to fuel the frustration of both Bonds and sportswriter alike. He always delivered on the field, but failed miserably off it. He desperately craved the respect he thought was his due, along with the due of Willie Mays and Bobby Bonds.

He was never elevated to that “hero” status some ballplayers receive, but fewer deserve. We didn’t need to elevate him. Was he great? Sure. But he wasn’t sexy. It’s not like he ever hit over 50 home runs in a season.

Five years ago, many of us self-righteously vowed we wouldn’t vote for Bonds on his first ballot for the Hall of Fame. Voting him in with those that never disrespected the game would fail to honor the legacy of Cal Ripken, Jr. and Tony Gwynn, Sr.

And there was one other who retired in 2001. Mark McGwire. Bonds definitely didn’t deserve to sit with our beloved Mac, who saved baseball in 1998.

McGwire, who hit 500 foot home runs from batting practice through inning nine was a wonder. Only, he was a wonder who cheated. And we knew it. At least those of us who weren’t blind knew.

Bonds had to notice. He had to notice us ignoring the flaws of McGwire, Sosa and others while lauding their gaudy homer numbers. He had to wonder if that sort of respect, the one missing piece not only to his career but to his fathers, was merely a syringe away.

It’s what you do when no one is looking that reveals your true character. In 1998, it was possible to do steroids in private. You knew you wouldn’t be tested. You knew all you desired was a few private cycles away.

We knew what many ballplayers were doing privately, and we kept it private; at the same time, we ignored Barry’s on-field prowess in favor of the cheaters.

It all changed one day during the spring of 2005. Bonds, who never appeared to weigh more than Ernie Banks, sat next to a physically and emotionally shrunken McGwire during the now famous steroid hearings in front of Congress.

Bonds aged as a human should have, playing worse during his final few years, but still showing flashes of brilliance. No one could have suspected him. No one ever has.

“I thought of taking them in 1998, after the chase. I wanted what McGwire and Sosa had.” Bonds said to Congress. He was quoting a publicist, sure, but who could blame him for being careful with his words. Would you have trusted us to report them?

“Mays told me I might do amazing things with steroids. He also told me none of them would impress him.”

Bonds was convinced he could have extended his career and swelled his homer numbers with the juice. Indeed, his career HR/AB numbers are very similar to McGwire’s pre-1994 numbers, the year in which McGwire dropped his HR/AB total from one every 15 AB to one every 7. Bonds had the natural power. Bonds hit over 40 home runs three times in Candlestick Park. Ask Mays how hard that is.

Steroids could have allowed Barry to play into his 40’s. Give Barry an extra few years, some increased pop as he entered AT&T Park, and he could have threatened 700 homers. Perhaps even approached the greatest record left.

The cardinal sin of sportswriting is writing the easy story. McGwire and Sosa were saving baseball; that was easy. McGwire juiced, and we didn’t care. Bonds treated us poorly, and we took notes. McGwire the great; Bonds the louse. Simple.

And while Barry played a pure game, we reported the brooding, and ignored the cheating. Now we are left to brood over the cheating. Isn’t it ironic?

The fact is, while Barry was rightly taken to task during the late 1990’s for his active disdain for the fans of baseball, he respected the integrity of the game. It seems now as if he was the only one who did. He resisted the temptation of the “chicks dig the long-ball” era and played beautiful baseball. The baseball of his father, the baseball of Mays.

It’s time to admit that Barry doesn’t belong on the same stage as McGwire, or even in the same era. It’s time for those who wish steroids had never infected this game to recognize the one person who, when presented with opportunity to cheat privately, privately did the right thing. It’s time to respect Barry.

I look forward to the ceremony in Cooperstown.

Reality Bites. But there is a certain sweetness in the irony of it.

T_NY...Where's the "O?"

One of the nice things about the Cards slow start is listening to Cards fans come up with reasons why we suck. Even more entertaining are the sports talk radio guys, who all spent a day wondering what ownership could have done to improve this team.

What could ownership have done? Simple. Trade Pujols, Edmonds, Rolen and Eckstein for Kevin Youkilis, JJ Hardy, Mike Lowell, and Yuniesky Betencourt.

Check their stats….all of them are hitting well. If you want to win April and May of 2007, they’re your guys. If you want to win September only, you can go find Sam Horn.

Truth is, the Cards are losing because four of their top five hitters are batting between .080 and .100 points below their career averages. That’s it, end of story.

There is no pitcher or hitter that was available this offseason that could have changed this team. Grab Jason Schmidt? He’s on the DL. Grab any starter? Then Looper would have stayed in the pen this spring.

Grab a hitter? Who? Carlos Lee? Alfonso Soriano? Both great, but they can only bat once per rotation.

I wrote below about the Cards being tired. That’s speculation, but it’s the best I can do. I could also speculate Eckstein is hurt, but he’s still making contact. He’s struck out twice this year.

Albert is striking out more, but not like he’s Adam Dunn. Now, he’s popping out like Willie Mays Hayes, but he isn’t ‘K’-ing an amazing number of times.

So I'll stick with that they need a month off. All of them.

I think they will round into form this year at some point. It’s one of the laws of physics that Albert will hit. Stats move toward the norm…and this is not the norm. Someone is gonna pay for Albert’s start. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon….and it will be ugly.

The question I have is what happens in August. If the Brewers don’t run away with this thing, and I wouldn’t bet on that one either way, and the Cards are still in this come August, how tired will they be then?

Hey, if they drop out in September, then that’s just an extra few weeks for Albert to stew. Part of me is already looking forward to next April….an Angry Albert. Hey, someone is gonna pay.

Too much of a good thing...

I’ve heard it said that money and tragedy don’t change you, they only make you more of who you are.

If you are close to being an alcoholic, and you lose a loved one, you will probably take that next step. If you are a jerk, and you win the lottery, you are going to be Barry Bonds.

From opening day to April 29, the Cards were a tired team, a lackluster team. Their starters were inconsistent, and only Molina and Duncan were mildly exceeding expectations at the plate.

Since the death of Hancock, the Cards have been even more inconsistent. Balking home runners, failing at the plate, playing poor baseball. In five games, they are averaging 1.2 runs scored per game, and have been shut out twice.

They’ve allowed 7.4 runs per game. It’s painful to watch.

The hangover from the world series is not going away. At least not yet.

Truth is, they should be tired. It takes a lot to play 162 games. Since 2004, the Cards have averaged 175.3 games per year, including the postseason. And they get one less month off to recover. That's three more starts per pitcher. Forty more at-bats on Rolen's shoulder, Albert's foot, and Jimmy's...shoulderfootheadkneehamstring. It's also 13 more games to drive LaRussa closer to the shed in Beautiful Mind.

That just sounds exhausting. Further proof that Bobby Cox is a cyborg, and Leo Mazzone is from one of Jupiter’s moons.

Jimmy Ballgame looks like he needs two months off. When he takes the field, he conjures images of Nick Nolte in North Dallas Forty. Rolen appears to have the flexibility of a fifty year old lumberjack.

One wonders if Eckstein and Pujols have really recovered from their oblique injuries. Albert is on pace to strike out more than 70 times for the first time since his rookie season. Oh the horror of 70+ strikeouts...but still.

Oh yeah, Carpenter has an arthritic elbow. But what 32 year old doesn’t?

As bad as the Cards have been, I do expect them to make a run. They will play better than this, perhaps even stringing together a win or two. But it looks like this team will be out of it by September, with some Rick Ankiel sightings imminent.

And that ain’t the worst thing in the world.

They need the rest.

Reality Bites

Of the many reasons we watch baseball, that it can imitate the cruelty of life is not one.

It's a cliche to say he had it all. Of course he did. He was an average reliever in one of the greatest sports leagues in the world. He got cut from a team that rarely contended, only to land on a team that won it all.

As soon as I heard the news about Josh Hancock, the questions started. Rarely do you hear of a death of a 29 year-old in a car crash, after midnight, that doesn't involve alcohol, speeding, or otherwise imprudent behavior. Josh had it all, all right.

Today the questions were answered. He was drunk, was on his cell phone, was speeding, and wasn't wearing his seatbelt.

How are you supposed to feel about it? I feel genuinely bad for his friends and family. I feel frustrated that the Cards to have to go through this twice in six seasons. It's a tragedy. I don't watch baseball to see tragedy. I watch it to avoid it.

I read the local papers. Everyone is vowing to change their own behavior. No more drinks/cell phones/speeding. No more beer in the Cards clubhouse. Bartenders more aggressive in taking away keys.

But what happens a month from now? What happens the next time your in a bar and have had four drinks? You gonna drive? What about two years from now.

This is not why I watch baseball.

Izzy--Can't live with him. Pass the Beer Nuts.

Seems like you can't pass ten minutes without someone worrying about the Cards starting rotation. I don't. Know why?

Kent Bottenfield. Juan Acevedo. Darren Oliver. Garrett Stephenson. Jason Simontacchi.

All of them looked effective for significant stretches as a starter for the Cardinals. None could pitch more than five or six innings without being exposed. Dave Duncan, along with the Cards defense, can get nearly anyone through six innings effectively.

Then it’s up to the pen. I love this way of running a ballclub. It leads to the Jeff Suppans of the world winning 15-18 games. Suppans are cheap, at least they are cheap before they become Cards.

So congratulations Mr. Wells, on your 2008 contract. If you haven’t thought to do it, by the way, draft Kip Wells in your fantasy draft. Before Suppan.

The above list of names is why I don’t worry about the rotation anymore. I worry about the pen.

The strength of the Cards rotation has always depended on the strength of the pen. In 2002, the Cards had Matt Morris, Woody Williams, and then no one. They won 97 games on the strength of an outstanding pen, anchored by Izzy.

Izzy had surgery in 2003, and the pen imploded. The same starting staff imploded along with it, Morris and Woody wore down, and frankly have never been the same.

This year, the backend of the Cards pen looks decent. Brad Thompson looks better this spring; and Ryan Franklin and Russ Springer are at least decent. The left side looks good with Tyler Johnson, Ricardo Rincon and Randy Flores.

The real question is, with Braden Looper and Adam Wainwright starting; who backs up Izzy? Izzy has an arthritic hip. It may be “ok” for a while, but he will hurt it again. If not this year, then sometime. When?

Izzy took the hill for five months as an ineffective closer last year, so it's not like he'll need to broadcast it if his hip barks. Each time Izzy blows a save, get ready for an avalanche of hip calls to radio shows.

If/when Izzy does go on the DL, who is Option B? Wainwright or Looper after Mulder comes back? That seems the most logical choice. The real problem with that dilemma is that Wainwright is the best option as a closer, but probably the best option also as a starter.

No one seems to want to notice this, but Anthony Reyes was throwing 96 at this time last year. He's now throwing 90. He's supposed to throw 180 innings? At this rate, he'll turn into Jamie Moyer by September.

So if Reyes is down, and Wainwright is throwing well, do you pull him from the rotation to replace Izzy? Feels like a raw deal for Adam.

Why do I feel like putting Adam as a closer will hurt the 2010 Cardinal rotation?

I normally don't get wrapped around the axel about injuries, but the above seems all too likely. Which is why I really don't understand the Looper starter experiment. Say what you will about Looper, if he's throwing well, he's a viable closer. If he's not throwing well, do you want him starting?

Doesn't it make more sense to start Franklin, who once posted an ERA under 4.00 in the AL as a starter, and leave Looper as backup?

As it stands, it appears Wainwright would move to the pen if Izzy goes down. Again, that can't be a good career move for Adam.

The bullpen is deep enough to get the ball to the 9th. The question remains, can Izzy close it out. If Izzy is healthy last year, and blows his normal 4-5 games rather than the 10 he blew, the Cards win 88-89 games…with Suppan and Marquis impoding and Mulder hurt.

The Cards chances for October baseball rest with Izzy. Seems like I say this every year.

The Roids Strike Back

Are you remotely surprised?

MLB tests for steroids. It doesn't test for Human Growth Hormone. So this week we hear allegations that Gary Matthews, Jr. was purchasing form of HGH from a pharmacy in Alabama.

We also read that Barry Bonds’ foot increased two-and-a-half sizes since 1999. You know what they say about guys with big feet.

The solution to all this is simple. Save the samples. Test them every year for five years. End of story. Oh, it’s expensive, but if baseball can spend $21 million on Jason Marquis, can’t they spend a few million to store some blood?

Of all professional athletics this side of weightlifting, baseball has had the weakest steroid testing program. Of all professional athletics, baseball has the most to lose. If a black fly in your chardonnay is ironic, then what do you call that?

It’s not that steroids in football, track, basketball, tennis, and hockey isn’t bad. Cheating is cheating. But other sports involve like skill vs. like skill. They involve speed vs. speed, strength vs. strength. If all are cheating, all have the same unfair advantage.

That’s why there isn’t the indignation when the Carolina Panthers go the Super Bowltm just after going to the pharmacy.

But baseball is different. Baseball involves one guy throwing the ball and another guy hitting it. The skills are so different, that only one player in baseball history what truly fantastic at both.

Since steroids arrived in force during the 1990’s, as many pitchers have taken them as hitters. But the steroids simply don’t help a pitcher throw as much as they help a home run hitter hit the ball a long way. I’ve the home run increase here in more detail. The increase is striking.

So now 60 home runs in a season means little, fifty means less. No one knows what 500 means. They were magic numbers in baseball. Now they aren’t.

You can’t tell me how many yards Emmitt Smith rushed for, or how many career TD’s Jerry Rice scored. Give us a generation, and I fear no one will care how many home runs Albert hit.

That’s what we’re losing.

Your move, Bud.