Date: Saturday, August 4, 2001
From: Kevin Hench
Subject: Rage, Pain, Anger, and Hurt
"Even though the odds
were in favor of God's not existing, Pascal argued that our faith in God could
still be amply justified because the joys of the slimmer probability so far
outweighed the horrors of the larger probability."
- Alain de Botton
And so we soldier on,
believing on some deep, spiritual level that the Red Sox will indeed one day
win a World Series. The alternative - to accept the larger probability -
is simply too horrible. To imagine that Nomar Garciaparra, like Teddy
Ballgame and Yaz before him, will play his entire career in Boston without
ever winning it all... that he will be badgered by reporters in the twilight
of his career, asking if he can truly feel fulfilled as a baseball player
never having won a World Series... that he will toss and turn at night,
replaying images of Edgar Renteria and Luis Sojo getting World Series-winning
hits... or worse, that he will tempted by the Dark Overlord, his resistance
weakened by years of futility, and sign on with the Evil Ones.
No, of course we shield our
eyes from these images. And we focus myopically on the curious pastiche
before us: a bizarre patchwork pitching staff of rejects and retreads and
reconstructions; a lineup headed by a guy with no speed and no power who gets
on base at a .200 clip; a manager who is flummoxed by anything more
complicated than lefty-lefty; a team that will finish last in stolen bases and
first in stolen bases allowed for the second time in three years; a team that
converts the lowest percentage of double play opportunities in the Majors; a
team that has lost six straight games against lefty starters but doesn't call
up either of their righty boppers in Triple A. At what point might Juan Diaz
or Izzy Alcantara get a handful of the at-bats Jose Offerman and Brian Daubach
have been giving away against lefties? After nine straight losses to
lefties? 12? 15?
When we look back at this
lost season, the narrow window of opportunity closing on us, I suggest we look
in particular at the 750-900 at-bats that Jose Offerman and Troy O'Leary will
have been given. Troy O'Leary's three-pitch whiff against Troy Percival
Tuesday night - bases loaded, one out - was the Major League equivalent of
pooping your pants in public. To swing at a pitch above the bill of your
helmet just isn't done. You'll see it in Little League, but then it
disappears... throughout Junior Babe Ruth, Senior Babe Ruth, American
Legion... you just never see this... Troy O'Leary has done it at least seven
times this year. Why? Because his bat is sooooo slow and he is soooo
overmatched by ML fastballs that he basically has to start his swing as the
pitcher releases the ball. Has Jimy noted this? Ha-ha, ha....
ha-ha... ha-ha-ha...ha-ha. Has Jimy ever noticed anything that takes
place on the field? What unorthodox decision has he ever made that worked out
for the good of the club? His phenomenal success rate at selecting the
right pinch hitter perhaps? His deft use of Pete Schourek? His
brilliant deployment of the both-catchers-starting lineup that has burned him
almost without fail? His eerie - almost prescient - accuracy when
calling pitchouts? His walking Ben Molina (.257) to get to Benji Gil
(.344) tonight? And on and on and on and on...
Seriously, when Sports
Illustrated reports or Bret Saberhagen announces that the players don't
respect Jimy, shouldn't that news be greeted with a huge sigh of relief?
What knowledgeable baseball professional could possibly respect this guy?
People have been looking at our DL and looking at the standings and saying
they should build a statue of this guy, but when you watch every pitch of
every game you realize that the statue would do a much better job in the close
games. Wakes and Cone against I-Rod, A-Rod and Palmeiro. And once you've lost
to Patt Rapp you realize it doesn't matter who the other guys throw out on the
hill.
Kev
Wondering about free agent pitchers for 2002
