Give 'em Some Stankeye!

I'm really looking forward to this series. I love to see new teams that aren't exposed as much in the media getting a chance to win it all and, as I mentioned yesterday, the Phillies haven't been to the World Series since 1993 and the Rays haven't done anything, ever. For a guy who is sick of the usual tired Red Sox/Yankee storylines, this is kind of a dream. We get two exciting, good teams (remember 2006 when a crappy Cardinal team somehow blew through the playoffs? Nothing like that this year.) with a lot of homegrown stars and colorful players. The TV goons may have their cyanide capsules ready for consumption, but I'm personally excited and every true baseball fan should be as well.

If you will, let me go on one of my obnoxious digressions. The Rays remind me a lot of the 1969 Mets. The Mets, famously, came into existence as an expansion team in 1962 and set the modern record for futility by losing 120 games. For the next eight seasons, they were the laughingstock of baseball, never winning more than 73 games and losing over 100 five times. They fell down a lot, they couldn't hit or pitch, their gnomish manager fell asleep in the dugout a lot, and for the first eight years or so their most recognizable player was Marvelous Marv Throneberry. They weren't a team, but a punchline.

Amidst all the follies, no one noticed that slowly but surely the Mets were developing a fearsome collection of pitching, a group that included Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman, Tug McGraw, and Nolan Ryan. Finally, in 1969, this talented core broke out, and the Mets shocked the world by winning 100 games and upsetting the much-favored Orioles in the World Series (you can bet that in the media-saturated world of today, Al Weis would have been awarded a $3 million contract by some team for his "gamerishness" after that series).

Anyway, like the Mets of '69, the Rays went from league whipping boy to league powerhouse in the blink of an eye, and they did it with a bunch of young talent that suddenly came together all at once and broke out. Like those Mets also, their success was based mostly on pitching and defense. The '69 Mets had a below average offense with only a couple of truly good hitters, but any rotation headlined by Seaver and Koosman is going to win you games. The Rays, meanwhile, were ninth in scoring but their pitching was great and their defense was spectacular, and that is where most of the 97 wins came from, LCS home run barrage notwithstanding.

So who is this year's Weis, the crappy-hitting utility player who inexplicably takes down Goliath? I'm looking at you, Bartlett. Will anyone make a jaw-dropping, game-saving catch like Ron Swoboda? Will an unproven, flame-throwing prospect come to the rescue to save a game, a la Nolan Ryan's Game 3 performance in the '69 series (I guess David Price did already save two of the biggest games in Rays history)?

What about the Phils? Will Ryan Howard duplicate Mike Schmidt's (no, not Mike Shit) 1980 postseason heroics? Can Cole Hamels dominate like Steve Carlton? Can Brad Lidge erase the bad memories of Mitch Williams? Will Matt Stairs rival Greg Luzinski in terms of sheer girth? Will I ever stop obsessing about baseball events that occurred years before I was born? Who knows, let's just get on with the preview.

1B: Carlos Pena (.247/.377/.494) v. Ryan Howard (.251/.339./543)

I know it seems like sacrilege to call anybody but Howard the best here, but just look at the facts. Howard did hit 17 more homers than Pena, and that's a lot. However, Pena crushes him in OBP, doesn't strike out as much, is a much better defensive player, and played in the best division in the better league in a tougher park on hitters. Howard has reached Frank Thomas-levels of immobility at first base and he really should be the DH in the games in Tampa. Phils phans are probably going to kill me here but I'll go with a slight Advantage: Rays.

2B: Akinori Iwamura (.274/.349/.380) v. Chase Utley (.292/.380/.535)

Aki is one of those fun little players who always seem to come up big in the postseason, then get way more credit than they deserve for their team's success (see: Bartlett, Jason). He's small, scrappy, plays great D, and he wears his socks high, so who wouldn't love him? I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a big Aki fan. Then there's Utley. No amount of dirt doggedness or quirky footwear can overcome the fact that Utley is a freaking beast, probably the best hitting second baseman in the game and a great fielder to boot. Advantage: Phils.


SS: Jason Bartlett (.286/.329/.361) v. Jimmy Rollins (.277/.349/.437)

If Rollins's 2007 MVP was dubious, then Bartlett's 2008 Team MVP award was batshit insane. Listen, Bartlett is a very good fielder with a helluva lot of range and his bat isn't as bad as people think, but honest to goodness, he's not Ozzie Smith here, people. This MVP craziness comes from what NBA analyst John Hollinger often calls the "Cult of the New Guy". When a team sees a big turnaround from one season to the next, often the media will give most (if not all) of the credit for the team's miraculous 180 to one player acquired in the offseason, even though there are myriad reasons for the team's sudden success. It happened with Steve Nash and the Phoenix Suns, it happened when Kirk Gibson won a ridiculously undeserved MVP for the 1988 Dodgers, and it's happened with Bartlett. Bartlett's defensive presence was a big factor in the Rays' turnaround, but not the only factor. The amazing improvement in their bullpen and the additions of Evan Longoria and Matt Garza had more to do with the Rays' success than Bartlett.

Anyway, Rollins wants me to stop ranting and talk about him a little. He got hurt early and didn't come close to matching his awesome 2007 numbers, but he's still a dangerous bat, even if I still think he'd be better suited hitting lower in the order. Has anyone else also noticed how much Rollins has cut down on his strikeouts over the course of his career? Amazing. Rollins is twice the player Bartlett is, even if Bartlett will be the recipient of the media love-in for the next week or so. Advantage: Phils.

3B: Evan Longoria (.272/.343/.531) v. The Scourge of Paulie's Life circa 2005-2007 (.249/.302/.402)

You know, I was watching an episode of Two and a Half Men the other day, and it taught me a valuable lesson in restraint. You see, Charlie's housekeeper brought her precocious 16-year-old granddaughter (played by Megan Fox, which is all you need to know) to stay with them for a while, causing all kinds of moral crises and hilarious hijinks for the two single dudes. While this girl was mincing around with barely any clothes on, Charlie and Alan were doing word puzzles an whatnot to keep their minds off of...you know. Of course, Charlie and Alan had to exercise serious restraint, and not even look at the ridiculous hot chick tanning herself on their patio, lest they be taken away for a long, long time.

That's kind of my dilemma here. I really, really want to make a joke about Pedro Feliz. After all the shit he's taken on this blog, though, I need to lay off, especially since I didn't even have to watch him this year and he's no longer the bane of my Giants fan existence. So I'll take a page from Charlie and Alan and just show a little self-control. Get my mind on something else. Yes, let's talk about Longoria. His glove is even better than Feliz's and his bat speaks for itself, and he's got perennial All-Star written all over him. And Pedro Feliz sucks ass...ah, dammit! Advantage: Rays.

LF: Carl Crawford (.273/.319/.400) v. Pat Burrell (.250/.367./507)

Here's a study in contrasts. Crawford is a greyhound who steals a ton of bases, gets most of his extra base hits with his legs, and covers a lot of ground in the outfield. Burrell is a hulking sloth who draws walks, hits homers, and has less range in the outfield than the Phillie Phanatic with Charlie Manuel strapped to his back. Crawford had a terrible year by his standards but seems to be getting back into form this postseason. Burrell's year was another off the factory line and even with the bad defense he's still more productive than Crawford at this point. Advantage: Phils.

CF: B.J. Upton (.273/.383/.401) v. Shane Victorino (.293/.352/.447)

Victorino is dangerously close to becoming one of those players who is perennially overrated because of one hot postseason, kind of like David Eckstein, which is too bad because Victorino is a good player and I don't want to hate him. It's just that I can't actively like players whom the media fawns over because of one or two good series performances. Upton, meanwhile, is a great player who saw his power completely disappear this season, only to resurface once October rolled around. If it stays for 2009 he's an MVP candidate, for sure. Advantage: Rays

RF: Rocco Baldelli (.263/.344/.475) v. Jayson Werth (.273/.363/.498)

Gabe Gross was so effing bad in the ALCS that I'm kind of thinking Joe Maddon will go with Baldelli even against the Phils' right-handed starters. They'd certainly be better served by it. Werth has always been underrated and he bears a strong facial resemblance to Stewart Copeland. Anybody who looks like a guy who can play drums like this gets extra points in my book. Advantage: Phils.

C: Dioner Navarro (.295/.349/.407) v. Carlos Ruiz (.219/.320/.300)

Navarro is a guy who will live and die by the batting average, kind of like A.J. Pierzynski. Once the bat speed goes one day, it'll all come crashing down and you've got, well, Carlos Ruiz. Yeah...Advantage: Rays.

DH/Bench: The Rays are the odd AL team that won't be hurt much by playing in the NL parks because their DHs just aren't that good. Cliff Floyd is okay, but he's past his prime and wouldn't play in four of the seven games, anyway and I doubt they'll miss his bat much. Meanwhile, the Phillies don't have any appetizing DH options at all. Greg Dobbs is probably going to spot Feliz at third base in a few games and you don't want Feliz DHing (like in this game...just kill me). Geoff Jenkins is terrible. Matt Stairs can still hit a fastball (as Jonathan Broxton can surely tell you), but he's not the masher he once was. Chris Coste might be the best option, and that tells you all you need to know about the Phillie bench. Usually the DH shenanigans present a huge advantage for NL teams in the World Series, but not this time.

I have to say, I love the Rays' bench. They have three or four players like Ben Zobrist and Willie Aybar who can hit in the right matchups and play several different positions. Take Zobrist. He's probably exposed as an everyday player, but he can play seven positions, he's got power (.505 slugging percentage), and he hits lefties. That gives a manager a lot of flexibility. Aybar is the same thing, only with less pop and a better glove*. If the Rays have their druthers about them, they'll get Eric Hinske's bat on the World Series roster, dump Fernando Perez, and use Gross as their defensive replacement. Advantage: Rays

*I'm shocked, shocked, that the media hasn't jumped on Aybar's recent rough past like a bunch of starving jackals. Aybar was once a pretty decent prospect with the Dodgers and Braves but who succumbed to alcohol addiction and pretty much lost all of 2007. He cleaned himself up, earned himself a key role on a World Series team, and now has a chance to be a big factor in getting a Series ring. This is a great story, and I can't believe that we haven't gotten one of those sappy feel-good inserts about it during at least one game. I guess there's still time.

Starters:
Scott Kazmir (12-8, 3.49) v. Cole Hamels (14-10, 3.09)

James Shields (14-8, 3.56) v. Brett Myers (10-13, 4.55)

Matt Garza (11-9, 3.70) v. Jamie Moyer (16-7, 3.71)

Andy Sonnanstine (13-9, 4.38) v. Joe Blanton (9-12, 4.69)

This isn't even close. Even I had questioned the Rays' staff a bit going into the series with the Sox, but, no, these guys are awesome. They throw strikes, they don't beat themselves, and they let the great defense behind them gobble up anything in play. Only Kazmir has command issues at times, but he tends to overcome that by throwing pure filth. Sonnanstine has fly ball tendencies, which could hurt in Philly, but overall this is the major strength for the Rays in this series.

The Phils have Hamels, who is the best pitcher in the series, but behind him there are some questions. No one is sure which Myers will show up at any given time. Will it be the awesome pitcher from the Dodger series or the erratic wife-beater? Moyer has also looked horrible this postseason and it remains to be seen whether or not his slow crap can fool good lineups in the playoffs. I have no confidence in Blanton at all. Hamels gives the Phils the edge in two games, but otherwise this is a big advantage for Tampa. Any chance Charlie Manuel bites the bullet and starts Hamels in Games 1, 4, and 7? Advantage: Rays.

Bullpen:

Both teams have very strong pens, but Brad Lidge is the lights-out closer the Rays don't have. With Tampa, there's no clear candidate to turn to when the going gets tough (as we saw in Game 5 of the ALCS) and that could be an issue. I know that closers are overrated and all that, but in a close playoff series I think it's an asset to have an unhittable guy to turn to in crunch time. I love Grant Balfour, J.P. Howell, and Dan Wheeler, but they don't fit that description for me. When shit starts to hit the fan for the Phillies, they can turn to Lidge and not have to worry. That alone means Advantage: Phils.

Well, that was certainly long-winded. Will you just tell us who is going to win?

Why not? The Rays, again, were the best team in the best division in the AL. Their pitching staff is one of the best and their team defense is superlative. Their offense isn't great but, as they showed in the Boston series, they can bust some heads if need be. The Phils have a super top of the lineup, but it has some serious holes near the bottom and I don't believe that their pitchers (behind Hamels) can get AL hitters out. I like the Phils and they're the best NL rep since the 2004 Cardinals, but I'm going to have to go Rays in six.

Labels: bad predictions, baseball postseason, blast from the past, megan fox is hot, world series

First things first. My take on Tim Lincecum's disappointing outing last night is over on Bugs and Cranks. Check it out here. I have tickets to Sunday's game and, while it's probably better if Lincecum doesn't make that start, well...I spent a lot of money on those tickets. I guess I should have known better.

--I didn't watch or listen to a single minute of tonight's game, but the box score tells it all. Jonathan Sanchez has done two things with his rough second half. He's put his spot in the rotation in danger for 2009 and he's also destroyed a lot of his trade value. Potential trading partners are going to look at Sanchez's high ERA, his second half breakdown, and his history of DL stints, and they'll think long and hard about giving up something of any value.

Sanchez always comes up in the "let's trade this guy for hitting" strategy that pops of every week on various Giants message boards, and it does make sense given the quick ascent of Tim Alderson and Madison Bumgarner. However, there are red flags flying everywhere right now and it's not clear if any team would be willing to trade a good hitter for the honor of waiting to see if Sanchez can ever put it together. It might have been better off for all involved if the Giants had just shut him down altogether when he got hurt in August.

--This is really cool. The Giants are going to bring J.T. Snow out of retirement and have him start on Saturday so he can officially end his career as a Giant. This is pure ceremony and the more cynical of us might call it sappy, but Snow was one of the mainstays in the team's 1997-2002 glory years and I always loved him, even when his bat went south in his later years with the team. When a guy shows this kind of loyalty to the Giant franchise, how can you not love it?

--Lastly, we all know that it's been a little rough being a Giants fan for the past few years. Losing sucks, but at least there's some hope on the horizon. We should all thank our lucky stars, though, that we're not Washington Nationals fans. Goodness gracious.

Labels: blast from the past, jonathan sanchez, jt snow, shameless plug, Tim Lincecum

A series at Coors Field is a great way to get the bats going, but not necessarily a great way to get a winning streak under way, no matter how bad the Rockies are at any given time. I seem to remember in the 1997-2004 period always salivating when the Giants were heading into Colorado coming off of a tough stretch in which their bats went cold. Since the Rockies were rarely good during that timespan, I always figured the Giants could beat up on them to their hearts' content while revving up the bats at the same time.

Of course, nothing ever works out the way you want it to. I always realized, too late, that Coors Field was a certifiable house of horrors, with routine fly balls going ten rows deep into the outfield stands, singles turning into triples in the huge expanse of outfield, shallow fly balls falling in for singles, and Neifi Perez hitting season-killing bombs off of Robb Nen.

Nothing epitomizes the theater of the absurd better than this nightmare in 2000, when the Giants coughed up an 11-5 lead in ways that defy description. Perhaps the worst part came in the first inning, when Bobby Estalella hit what should rightfully have been a grand slam over the right field wall. The ball hit a bench in the bullpen, however, and ricocheted back out onto the playing field. The umpire, in a fit of acute blindness, ruled that the ball hit the top of the fence, even though the benches were a solid ten feet behind the wall and the ball clearly crossed over into the bullpen. Estalella was credited with a triple and didn't score in the inning. The Giants went on to blow the game. I don't think I've ever cursed so loud at a blown call in my life. It was unreal.*

Now, I doubt that a 6-0 lead in that game, as opposed to the 5-0 that the Giants ended up holding, would have saved the team from crapping that game away in such colossal fashion, but those are the kinds of things that happen at Coors Field. It's weird, it's wacky, and it seems like the Giants always come away with a series loss and a pitching staff in tatters. In short, not the best place to end a five-game losing streak and sort out the sudden bullpen problems that have been plaguing the team.

As it is, Coors Field isn't the horror show that it used to be. Its park factor this season is 109, which still favors hitters immensely (anything over 100 is hitter-friendly), but that's nothing compared to its 1995-2004 period, when the average park factor was like 120, and topped out at 129 (yeah, that's unbelievable). Even if it's still a bandbox, the park's years of making guys like Vinny Castilla and Dante Bichett look like good hitters are over. Still, 109 is 109, so Pat Misch be warned.

*One hilarious moment from this game came when Russ Davis hit an absolute bomb off of Julian Tavarez to give the Giants their fateful 11-5 lead. Normally even when a batter launches a no-doutber home run, the outfielders will at least take a few cursory steps back in pursuit of the ball, as a courtesy to the pitcher. This time, though, left fielder Larry Walker didn't even move. As Davis's blast landed like two-thirds of the way up the bleachers, Walker just stood there motionless as if to say, "same shit, different day." I guess if any pitcher deserves to be shown up like that, it's Tavarez.

--In the eternal Peyton Manning vs Tom Brady debate, I'm squarely in the Manning corner, but...props.

Labels: blast from the past, coors field nightmare

Let's flash back to the beginning of the 1959 season. The Giants were in a bit of a predicament. Just the season prior, a 20-year-old first baseman named Orlando Cepeda had come into the league and hit .312/.342 /.512. Obviously, stardom was in the cards for this kid, and the Giants looked to have their first base situation locked up for a decade or so.

Except for one problem. They also had this kid named Willie McCovey, who was the same age as Cepeda, who also played first base, and who just might have been an even better hitter. McCovey had nothing to prove in the minors, so the Giants were faced with the not-so-simple task of getting both of these guys in the lineup on an everyday basis. McCovey would actually only get into 52 games that season, and in the games that he played, Cepeda moved to left field in a bit of inspired lineup juggling (although he wasn't any good out there). In his limited playing time in 1959, McCovey absolutely murdered National League pitching, ending the season with a ridiculous .354/.429/.656 line. As you well know, both of these guys went on to have Hall of Fame careers.

But it doesn't end there. On top of all this, the Giants had another young first baseman who, while not quite the prospect that Willie Mac and the Baby Bull were, was still considered to have a bright future ahead. Bill White had hit 22 home runs in his rookie season in 1956, but he missed almost all of the next two seasons due to military service and by the time he returned, he was one of three first baseman fighting for one position. As talented as he was (he went on to have a fine career with the Cardinals), he couldn't hold a candle to Cepeda and McCovey and he was traded away in the spring of '59 for Sad Sam Jones.

What's the point of this little history lesson? Well, I think any Giants fan would kill for the team to have this problem right now. The Giants' inability to find adequate production at first base has gone on so long now that it is bordering on the absurd. Around the league, guys like Carlos Pena and Chris Shelton keep getting swept up by other teams for cheap while the Giants putz around with the Mark Sweeneys and Lance Neikros of the world. It really does make one yearn for the Cepeda/McCovey/White conundrum days of yore.

Right now, the Giants don't really seem to be out there looking for somebody good, they just appear to be engaged in a quest to find the least reprehensible in-house option. The latest news on that front has Rich Aurilia, he of the . 252/.304/.368 line in 2007, winning the starting first base job by default because Dan Ortmeier is having a miserable spring. I'll just express my disgust by quoting John Shea from the article in the above link: "...The organization's thinking is beginning to change, and the stated preference is a youth movement, though it's not exactly playing out before our eyes."

Ya think? Instead of Fred Lewis, we get to watch Dave Roberts. Instead of Kevin Frandsen, it's Ray Durham. Now, based on a ridiculously small sample size of bad Ortmeier at-bats, Aurilia gets another chance to show us that he's washed up. Yay!

Look, I love Richie, I really do. He's probably my favorite Giant of all time. I even grew a (terrible-looking) goatee when I was a senior in high school just to honor him. He'll go down in the annals of beloved Giants players, and rightfully so.

The problem is, this isn't 2001. Based on his age and the fact that he's had one good season since 2003, we can safely assume that he's going to be just miserable as an everyday player, especially at first base. He just can't hit anymore, and it pains me to say it. His defense is solid, yes, but he's better used in a utility role if you have to use him at all, not as a starter at the easiest position to put offense at.

It's also reasonable to assume that Ortmeier won't be great because he was never too far above average in the minor leagues, and average in the minors usually translates into stinky in the majors. However, 45 spring at-bats just is not enough to gauge whether he belongs or not. In 157 at-bats last season, which is a considerably larger sample, his walk rate was miserable but he also slugged .497. Hey, it's a start, and doesn't he get bonus points for hitting a game-ending bomb off of Dodger behemoth Jonathan Broxton?

I'm a senior member of the Board of Dan Ortmeier Skeptics, but that's sort of beside the point. The point is, if the Giants are really committed to rebuilding, it means giving young guys like the Ort a real, no foolin' shot at sticking. That doesn't entail having Giants management watch him suck for 45 at-bats and then throw up their hands and say, "Welp, we tried! Let's go back to old, reliable Richie!" It means giving him until at least June to prove he isn't better than Aurilia. If he can't hang, then yeah, send him off and try something else. Until this happens with Ortmeier and some of the other young guys, this so-called youth movement will be more like a farce than an actual strategy.

Labels: blast from the past, easily obtainable first base talent rant, the goateed one, the ort

Today we continue my mini look back at Goose Gossage's career. Funny, I was born halfway through the Goose's career, and by the time I got to the point in my life where I started watching baseball (or at least remember anything about it), Gossage was but a shadow of his former self, so I'm not sure why I feel qualified to conduct this strange memoir. But I digress...

1981: Unfazed by the previous October's disappointment, Gossage returned to post maybe his most dominant season ever. In a season torn apart by labor strife, Gossage posted an incredible 0.77 ERA (for a 465 ERA+!!!!). He also saved 20 games, yet only finished 5th in the Cy Young voting. Who did win the Cy? Another reliever, Rollie Fingers, who won not only the Cy Young but the league MVP as well.

Bill James somewhat famously pondered in his New Historical Abstract why Rollie Fingers won the MVP award that year over Gossage, who had the more dominant ERA. Fingers posted a 1.04 ERA (332 ERA+) while saving 28 games, and won MVP and CY honors for a Brewers team making the playoffs for the first time ever. Fingers had the higher ERA, and pitched in a friendlier pitcher's park, but he also pitched in 78 innings, compared to Gossage's (relatively meager) 46 2/3. Fingers had 70 Pitching Runs Above Replacement (uh...just read this) that year, while Gossage had 44.

So it seems the voters got it right, as Fingers's huge lead in innings made him more valuable. Still, it's hard to see why Fingers was given the MVP when guys like Eddie Murray and Bobby Grich were tearing the AL apart that year. I guess it wasn't the most absurd MVP vote, though.

For the record, Gossage made eight playoff appearances that year (there were three playoff rounds in the 1981 postseason) and didn't allow a single run. It'd be his last postseason with the Yankees.

1983: It would have been a good yet nondescript year for Gossage and the Yanks, except for that little incident with George Brett and the pine tar bat. It's one of the most notorious (and hilarious) games in major league history. Long story short: Yankee manager Billy Martin was sick of Brett killing his team. Martin knew that Brett was using too much pine tar on his bat (pretty much every player did), so he decided that the next time Brett hurt the Yankees, which inevitably he would, Martin was going to point out Brett's illegal bat to the umps. Yeah, Martin was one conniving son of a bitch.

Sure enough, in a game on July 24, with the Royals down a run, Brett hit a go-ahead, ninth-inning, two-run home run off of Gossage. Out came Martin, pointing at Brett's bat. The umpires inspected it, determined that there was indeed an illegal amount of pine tar on it, ejected Brett, and nullified the home run, giving the Yankees the victory.

Brett's reaction when he realized he had been ejected is one of the all-time great blowups in professional sports history. He stormed out of the dugout like a rabid wolverine, spitting, cussing, and having to be restrained by teammates. I don't think I've seen an angrier human being in my life, and who could blame him, really? I can't find video of this anywhere, so if somebody has a link, please clue me in.

Anyway, the game was played under protest by the Royals, and eventually MLB allowed the home run to stand, and the game was finished that August. Poor Goose was stuck with the loss, although he still enjoyed a fine season, winning 13 games and saving 22 with his usual super ERA.

1984: Gossage packed his bags and left for the warm climate of San Diego, helping a one-hit wonder Padres team win the NL West and the pennant by saving 25 games with 102 stellar relief innings. Gossage made the final postseason appearance of his career in Game 5 of the World Series, and it was pretty ugly.

As the Padres were in the midst of getting trounced by a powerhouse Tiger team, Gossage was brought in to start the seventh inning of the deciding Game 5, with the Pads trailing 4-3. He promptly gave up a home run to Lance Parrish, and it would only go straight downhill from there. "Dirty" Kurt Bevacqua, enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame (check out his line from the Series!), homered for the Padres in the top of the eighth to bring San Diego back to within a run.

Already down one run and facing elimination against Detroit's dominant closer, Willie Hernandez, Gossage came out for the eighth with one order: hold the Tigers without a run. He couldn't do it. The Tigers put runners on second and third with one out, and Kirk Gibson was coming up.

San Diego manager Dick Williams came out to the mound to ask if Gossage wanted to walk Gibson and face Parrish with the bases loaded (Parrish had homered earlier off of Goose, but he was a weaker hitter, and he was also right-handed; Gibson was a lefty swinger). Gossage, whether out of some sense of bravado or overconfidence (he had struck out Gibson an inning earlier), waved his manager back to the dugout and dug in to face Gibby. Gossage's second pitch sailed into Tiger Stadium's upper deck, cementing Detroit's World Championship and leaving Gossage stewing on the mound. Hey, at least he wasn't the one to give up the timeless World Series homer that Gibson would hit four years later.

1989: Does anybody remember Goose's time with the Giants? I sure don't, but then again, I was only six years old. On the surface, Gossage's tenure with the Giants seems pretty good, as he made 31 appearances and saved four games with a 2.68 ERA. Looking closer, though, you can see why the Giants eventually ended up waiving him. In 43 and 2/3 innings, he had a K:BB ratio of 24:27, so while his ERA looks nice, he must have had runners all over the bases. Picture an Armando Benitez kind of walking-on-broken-glass act. Then again, maybe we shouldn't be thinking of Armando Benitez at all.

Gossage finished that season back with the Yankees, and thus wasn't with the Giants for their World Series run. Gossage, incredibly, hung on until 1994, enjoying a few good years, including one with the A's in 1992, when they won their division. His career lasted an impressive 22 seasons and he racked up 310 saves, 17th all-time.

My take on relievers has been well-documented on this blog. I'm a little skeptical about their value, and I think the save is a complete junk stat that should really be ignored. A vast majority of the best relievers were essentially starters who crapped out, guys like Mariano Rivera, Trevor Hoffman, Lee Smith, and Eric Gagne, so I question how good they really are, as pitchers. Even Dennis Eckersley, the quintessential great starter-turned-reliever, only became a bullpen ace because he completely lost his way as a starting pitcher.

That doesn't take anything away from the Goose's Hall of Fame credentials, though. Relief pitchers were more valuable in his day, because they threw way more innings. The one-inning model of closer didn't come along until about 1988, with Tony LaRussa and Eck. In his prime, Gossage would usually come in around the seventh inning and stay in to close out the game, which essentially made it a six-inning ballgame for the opponent. Looking at those kinds of workloads, it's amazing that his arm held up for so long, and so well.

Lastly, if baseball writers are going to put relief pitchers, and their contributions to the game, on such a high pedestal, then it only makes sense to establish a place in the Hall of Fame for them. And if you're going to put relievers in the Hall of Fame, you've gotta have the Goose, who is probably the best relief pitcher of all time.

Labels: blast from the past, Hall of Fame, the Goose

Congratulations to Goose Gossage, who was elected to Baseball's Hall of Fame last week. I thought it'd be fun to take a brief look at some of the most interesting parts of the career of one of the most colorful and perhaps most important pitchers in baseball history.

Gossage was originally drafted by and came up with the White Sox. For his first three seasons, he dabbled around in mediocrity for some uninspiring ChiSock teams, until...

1975: Gossage's first brilliant relief season. He posted a 1.84 ERA in a whopping 141 innings in relief, which would be unheard of these days. His 26 saves led the league, which would probably also be unheard of in today's game.

1976: Perhaps the Red Sox looked at Gossage's 1976 season when they were deciding whether or not to make Jon Papelbon a starter before the start of last year. Few people remember this, but Chicago manager Paul Richards inexplicably decided to make Gossage a starter, something that didn't go particularly well. Gossage wasn't terrible, but he was obviously more suited to a role in the bullpen, as he made 29 starts (completing 15 of them) and threw 224 innings while putting up a 9-17 record with a 3.94 ERA (91 ERA+) for a horrible team.

In this day and age, it would take some serious cojones to take a guy who had just put up a monstrous season as a closer and put him in the rotation, just due to the media backlash alone. Back then, though, I think teams' utilization of the bullpen ace sort of role was still in its infancy, and I doubt many people cared. Maybe Richards saw a great pitcher and wanted to maximize his innings. In that light, it doesn't seem too crazy, I suppose, but why fix it if it ain't broke? Needless to say, Goose never started another game in his career.

1977: Ah, back to the bully and back to brilliance, as the Goose put up a ridiculous 243 ERA+ and saved 26 games in 133 innings. Unfortunately, it wasn't for the White Sox. Gossage was traded to the Pirates before the season for Richie Zisk, as beloved White Sox owner Bill Veeck was in the midst of acquiring every pending free agent slugger he could find in a last-ditch effort to contend. The Pirates, meanwhile, won 96 games, yet still fell five games short of a great Phillies team.

I'd argue that everything up to this point in Gossage's career is moot, though, because by this time he still hadn't grown that awesome mustache.

1978: Gossage converted to the dark side by signing a free agent deal with the Yankees, and it was in New York where he would cement his legend status. In his first season under Big Stein, Gossage was again practically unhittable, putting up a 2.01 ERA in 134 innings (he also factored into 21 decisions!), while again leading the league in saves. He also pitched six innings in the World Series without giving up a run.

And because it's mandatory for all fearsome closers to have goofy facial hair...yes, there it is.

1980: Another great year, one in which he posted the highest save total of his career (33), but one marred by playoff disaster. Goose had been pretty much the scariest dude on the mound for the past few seasons, but that all changed when he met up with George Brett that October.

You see, from 1976-1978, the Yankees and Royals squared off in three straight ALCS, and the Yankees won all of them, often in heartbreaking fashion. They were taut, hard-fought battles in which players left all their blood and sweat on the field (literally; one year Reggie Jackson hideously spiked Royals shortstop Freddie Patek, but Patek was amazingly able to make it out for the rest of the series, despite nearly having his leg taken off). Always, however, it was the Yankees who came away victorious.

In 1980, though, the Royals found themselves up two games to none on their long-time nemesis (back then the LCS was a 3 of 5 contest), and the Yanks were clawing against the wall. In Game Three, the Yankees clung to a 2-1 lead in the seventh inning. Gossage came on to close out the game, and it started to look bleak for Kansas City. Gossage was essentially unhittable, and many of the Royal players later voiced that had the Yankees won that game, they'd have likely won the series (the last two games were in New York, and these teams were basically the same from those '76-'78 contests, so there was some domage going on here).

Yankee starter Tommy John retired the first two hitter easily, but then he allowed a double to Willie Wilson. That brought in Gossage, who came riding in on one of those goofy little carts they had in the bullpens in those days. Gossage looked as fearsome as ever, stomping off the mound, breathing fire, looking like a crazed biker...doing what he usually did. The first batter he faced, U.L. Washington, singled, putting two runners on base for George Brett.

Brett was himself a Hall of Famer and was coming off arguably the best year of his career, one in which he batted a blistering .390/.454/.664 (and speaking of blisters, it was in this series that Brett would begin suffering from a crippling case of hemorrhoids that nearly took him out of a few World Series games...ouch!) . He had been unstoppable in the teams' previous playoff meetings, and this year it was no different. The only change: he was freaking sick of losing.

Gossage's first pitch was a 100 mph fastball which Brett sent about 120 mph into Yankee Stadium's upper deck, silencing the Bronx crowd and effectively killing the Yankees' season. By this point Gossage had been so dominant and so blown up by the New York media that his mound exploits were approaching deity status. This was the first hint that he might have been human, after all. Just picture him as Xerxes, and Brett as Leonidas.

All right, I didn't start this until the wee hours (damn you, Sarah Connor Chronicles!), and I'm dangerously close to passing out on my keyboard, so we're going to make this a two-parter. Join me tomorrow as I look at the Goose's final Yankee years and his descent into journeyman status, which included a stint with the Giants.

Labels: blast from the past, Hall of Fame, the Goose

Ah, nostalgia.

Labels: blast from the past, brian johnson home run