Back to Reality, Royals

         I strolled out of Wolfgang steak house on 33rd street in midtown sometime after 11.  I was full.  I was wondering if the pecan pie was necessary, or if I was subconsciously trying to show off.  I’m not usually a big eater, but I had no breakfast and no lunch, so tonight I was a rock star.  Porterhouse, German potatoes, and creamed spinach.  For an appetizer we got some mozzarella and tomatoes for the table and the bacon special, which is essentially a double-thick cut strip of crispy, light bacon.  Anyone who doesn’t think bacon is delicious is just a total j*ckass, in my book. 

         The subway was a precarious proposition at this point.  The R train is notoriously unreliable, and late night could be the ultimate miserable adventure.  On a weird night it could conceivably take an hour and fifteen minutes to get from where I was back to Bay Ridge.  A cab would take maybe 25 minutes, if all went well.  I took the lazy way out.  Cab.

         It was a pleasant late summer night in New York, the kind with an in-between feel to it.  Not exactly summer, as the freshly back-in-school kids were conspicuously absent from the street corners, but not exactly fall, as NYC locals were strolling and gathering lazily and casually in the warm night air.  I had the window open in the back seat, letting the wind crash against my face as I gazed at the moonlight on the East River, lapping against the pier.  If anyone ever tried to take me away from New York City, I don’t think I would ever recover.

         I didn’t bother checking the score of the game.  I had a real good feeling about tonight.  How could you not?  The Royals su*ck.  And I figured last night they must have used up just about every ounce of good fortune they had left in their hope chest.  I would have been completely knocked over if the Yanks hadn’t kicked their teeth in tonight.

         Lucky touched on this in his comment the other day, and I’m going to pick up on it.  How is it that the Royals have the ability to turn it on when they feel like it?  You’ve got guys diving, grinding out at-bats, getting tough at the plate.  How are they so bad in all of their other games?  After all, they are professional baseball players.  They all know how to play this game.  How is it that they seem to be able to turn on the jets whenever a good team shows up?  Is it that they’re desperate to make it on highlight reels, knowing that Yankee games are going to be seen prominently?   Bruce Smith, the old Buffalo Bills defensive end, once said, “If you want people to know who you are, play good against the Jets.  That’s the media capital of the world.”  He has a point, sure.  And I recognize that there is such a thing as getting up for a game.  But a team that can play spoiler against the Tigers, Twins, White Sox, and Red Sox should be able to do a little bit better than 52-89. 

         I watched a little bit of Sportscenter a little while ago, and I have to laugh at the Baseball Tonight crew, who they brought in to talk about the pennant races.  Buster Olney, the former Yankees beat writer for the Times, was on with Karl Ravech and Tino.  Ravech and Olney were raving about the Marlins.  “You have to admire what they’ve done,” they said.  “Amazing,” they said.  Really, guys?  Something is wrong in baseball if anybody is using those kinds of superlatives to describe a team that is exactly 1 game over .500 in September.  The Marlins are a joke.  They do not belong in any of these conversations.  Why aren’t you gushing about the Texas Rangers?  Why aren’t you gushing about the Toronto Blue Jays?  Both of those teams have far better records than the Marlins.  Are they “amazing” and “admirable?”  But of course we know why they do it.  It’s because baseball (and all of the other major sports) have bastardized the whole rewards system for the sake of “creating” races and rivalries.  The Marlins are not a good baseball team.  Don’t get me wrong.  They could conceivably get in to the playoffs, win enough games against the rest of the pathetic National League, and get hot/lucky for four games in the World Series.  Lots of teams could.  But they haven’t earned the right to do that.  They are 1 game over .500.  And that’s just because they won tonight.  I’ve said it many times before.  I don’t know what the answer is.  I get what MLB is trying to do.  But here we are creating an absolute black hole for a team like the Blue Jays, which, as recently as two weeks ago, would have had the second best record in the entire National League; and that while playing against far superior competition.  Instead they have the unenviable position of being close enough geographically to New York and Boston to be in the same division, thereby effectively eliminating themselves from being competitive in major league baseball.  Which means no one is talking about them and nobody cares.  Meanwhile, we end up celebrating a joke like the Marlins.  Or the Reds, Phillies, Padres, and Giants, for that matter.  And it’s even more insulting when professional baseball broadcasters go right along with it, talking about these teams in the NL Wild Card race like they were anything more than what are:  MLB’s most embarrassing moment….   

         I think Joe Torre’s statement today that The Ferocious Lion will not play left field this year, and will be used exclusively at DH, is rash and ill-conceived.  I suspect that this has something to do with Melky’s state of mind, but I hope he doesn’t plan on following through with it.  Simply put, there wouldn’t be enough holes for all of the pegs come October.  I’m not saying that he needs to be in the field every day, but rotating him, Melky, Sheffield, and Giambi through first base, left field, and DH sounds more like the right play to me.  The Ferocious Lion did not break his throwing hand, and playing catch was something he was doing long before he was taking BP.  Torre’s worried that he’s “going to dive.”  I’m pretty sure the medical staff is comfortable where he is if they cleared him to play.  I’m not sure Torre fully understands what this lineup might be capable of if you could put them all on the field together come October.  With this scheme, Torre’s just setting us up to watch somebody who isn’t his best possible option on the field at a crucial moment come playoff-time.  You know, like Bubba Crosby right before he smashed into Sheffield in game 5 last year.  Use your head, Joe.

         Day off tomorrow.  Some people like magic numbers.  I like to play games like this one.  The Yanks have 24 games remaining.  The Red Sox have 22.  If the Yankees play .500 ball, at 12-12, then the Red Sox would have to go 20-2 just to force a one-game playoff.  That sound you hear is the Boss giggling all the way from Tampa….