Tim Tebow, and the "Million Dollar Movie"

That's where Tim keeps the footballs!

Back in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s when I was a kid, I lived just outside of New York City, a place where we actually had 6 different television channels. This was probably at least 2 or 3 more channels than most other places in the world had access to at the time. As nice as that was for a kid to have so many options, there was a lot of TV time to fill, but broadcast television was still in it’s relative infancy, so we got a lot of re-runs.

Sometimes we got re-runs of the re-runs.

The best example of re-run redundancy I can cite was WOR-TV (New York - Channel 9) having something called the "Million Dollar Movie." You would always recognize the theme music for the Million Dollar Movie, which was "Tara’s Theme," made famous by being the theme music for "Gone With The Wind," still one of the great movies of all time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPTQRmwCOWs


So what does the decades old "Million Dollar Movie" have to do with Tim Tebow?

I love you Cleo!

I’ll get to that, but first let's dissect the "Million Dollar Movie," as these days a million bucks ain’t much, especially for a movie budget, but back in the day a million bucks was an enormous budget for most movies. Hell, in 1964 the original game show "Jeopardy" had dollar totals that were 10% of what they are now. Back in 1963 it made some folks apoplectic when Elizabeth Taylor got a $1,000,000 for starring in the epic "Cleopatra." There was endless speculation on whether the movie would make enough at the box office to cover it’s estimated $44,000,000 in production costs. (It did, eventually)

There was no such problem for the Million Dollar Movie, as WOR-TV made sure they got their money’s worth out of each movie by airing it 20-25 times in a week! We'd get dozens of movies from the ‘30’s and ‘40’s, with a strong mix of monster movies, comedies, scary stuff, and adventures. Whatever the movie, it’d be on three or more times a day all week, just in case you missed it the first 10 times. Sometimes it’d be something good like "King Kong," "The House on Haunted Hill," "The Crimson Pirate," or one of two dozen Abbott and Costello movies. But too often it’d be some scaggy piece of tripe that no self-respecting 9-year old kid would watch once, let alone 6 or 7 times.

It was kind of like AMC is today, except today we have anywhere from 80 to 800 other channels to watch, so you may never even know that the same John Wayne movie was re-run 15 times in one week by those folks?

What I am saying is that Tim Tebow is like the old Million Dollar Movie.  He was amusing and entertaining for a while, for about 7 games, but I am ready for this movie to stop being aired. I’ve seen it enough. I don’t have much in the way of personal feelings about Tebow, so don't get me wrong. I don’t hate him, as he seems like an honest and genuinely nice young man, but I can’t handle listening to and/or watching him and the accompanying sideshow any longer.

Why not?

No, it’s got nothing to do with his religious convictions. I don’t care about that stuff at all. Over the years, I have heard hundreds of athletes thank Jesus for a great game to the point where I now expect to hear it, almost like it’s been scripted in many cases. I can ignore it, as I do much of the hype both before and after any game.

I want a different Million Dollar Movie because I don’t want to see Tim Tebow get T-boned, which is bound to happen to anyone playing quarterback in the National Football League who runs as much as Tebow does. I am now afraid that some defensive end will crunch this kid’s career and then those of us that follow the NFL will be subject to all the "saddest tales of tongue and pen…"

Can you see the reports on Tim running, bending, stretching, lifting weights, praying, circumcising, and all the while being just so earnest about it?

We could then be subjected to a sequel such as:

"A Tebow on the Brink," "Tebow Strikes Back." or "A Tebow is Waiting."

How about "Tebow Interrupted?"

I don’t want to hear the "…what might have been" for Tim Tebow, so I don’t want him getting clobbered with a nasty knee injury, and then have to hear all the stories about his perseverance in climbing back up to the mountain top.

An alternative story could be the career ending injury, like the time Joe Theisman had his leg snapped by Lawrence Taylor one long ago Monday evening in Washington, D.C. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAluPFKn6zk

No way, I don’t want anyone to get hurt like that, though if anyone could come back from having his leg snapped like a twig, it’d probably be Tim? How about Tebow having his left arm torn off, but then Tim learns to throw right-handed?

"Tim Tebow: The Right Hand of God." (It’d probably be hard to script without a lot of fumbles on the snap?)

No, I want Tim Tebow to keep playing quarterback in the NFL and fail the old-fashioned way, by not being good enough, which is easy enough for me to see happening, assuming he doesn’t get hurt. But he will get hurt, I promise you.

If you don’t believe that Tebow is cruisin’ for a serious bruisin’, take a look at Mike Vick’s career, and see how much time he’s missed due to injury. Yes, I realize that Vick is a relatively small guy, but does anyone really believe that Carolina will keep letting Cam Newton run as much as he has this season?

If you’re not convinced, factor in that Cam is 2-inches taller, 15-pounds heavier, and a lot faster than Tim is, and Carolina will be putting a stop to all those rushes soon enough.

Now, take a look at the top quarterbacks in the NFL for this season, or any season? Go back 20 years, or more, and tell me how many rushing yards the top ten QB’s gained?

Not that many had many, huh? 

I'm on the record stating that I think the best QB in Pro Football history, and definitely the best I ever watched play was John Elway. I used to think that Elway ran the ball way too much, and risked significant injury in a league that was not anywhere near as QB friendly as it is today. All players were a bit smaller and slower then, and Elway averaged a paltry 14.6 yards rushing, per game in his career. The list of great NFL running quarterbacks is a short one, with Steve Young probably the best, and he ranks #165 in all-time rushing yards in NFL history. Young averaged 34.6 rushing yards, per game in his career, and estimates he suffered at least 10 concussions in his career, and probably more. Here’s a link to a short running QB story on Yahoo Sports, from a little over a year ago. http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news?slug=ycn-7454032

Best I ever saw

An average of 14.6 yards rushing for John Elway in a game is one decent scramble for Cam or Mike or Tim, isn’t it? Don’t all QB’s break one of those once in a while?

Well no, and when you consider that the top 5 rated QB’s in the NFL this season have fewer rushing yards combined than Tim does, it makes one consider that maybe having a quarterback running with the ball isn’t a great path to long-term (or even short-term) success?

This season, Tebow is averaging 49.5 yards rushing per game, and it’s going to end his career if he keeps it up.

Of the top 13 ranked QB’s in the NFL this season, only Aaron Rodgers (at 17.1) bests Elway’s career average. Newton, Vick, and Tebow, all average in the mid-to-high 40’s in rushing yards per game.

Cam, tempting fate?

Cam Newton is 22 years old, huge at 6’5" and 248-pounds, very athletic, and exceptionally fast for a quarterback. But Newton is a rookie, and he also shown excellent ability in throwing the football, which is really what it’s all about in the NFL now. That is unless you want to have a stable of running QB’s to cycle in on your team, and hire Rich Rodriguez away from the University of Arizona to run the spread option offense. Again, I’d be stunned to see Newton run as much next season. He is too valuable as a passer. The great quarterbacks that have survived a long time do so because they rarely run, and are coached to throw the ball away if they can’t find an open receiver.

Vick takes licking, stops ticking

Mike Vick is by all accounts (significantly) smaller than his listed size of 6’0", and 215. Vick, even at 31 years of age is still one of the fastest players in the NFL when he’s healthy, but how often has he been healthy the last two seasons? He is an excellent passer, but he’s too small to be running as much as he does. He is smaller than a vast majority or NFL running backs. He needs to throw the football away more often. If you think Mike Vick will lead a team to a Super Bowl, take a look at his won/lost record in the playoffs with Atlanta and the Eagles? I’ll save you the trouble, he’s 2-4, and the last win came in 2004.

Tim is neither Cam nor Mike. Not as big or as fast as Cam, nor anywhere near as fast as Mike. Plus, Tim can’t throw the football very well. We all know that, don’t we?

For me, it’s been a great irony to have the player (Elway) I consider the best NFL QB of all time as the man in charge of the (arguably) worst NFL quarterback of all time. John Elway is not a stupid guy, so he’ll flow with this for a while, as for a while it’s been amusing and entertaining, but I’ve heard ‘Tebow’s Theme,’ and seen his Million Dollar Movie, about 7 times and I don’t want to watch it any more.

I also don’t want to watch "The Return of Tim Tebow," "The Revenge of Tim Tebow," "The Curse of Tim Tebow," nor do I wish to watch "Tebow: The Resurrection."

Looks like busted coverage?

I think I should warn you that Tebow is bound to appear on "Dancing with the Stars," don’t you agree? I can see him fumbling his partner, or tossing her to the floor, and being completely out of step, out of time, and out of bounds.

I can also see him winning the top prize, running and running and running away with it in fact.

Now there's someone that should run!

I don't imagine that I'll see it.

I think "The House on Haunted Hill" is running on the Million Dollar Movie that week?

Kerouac and Chekhov meet Cool Hand Luke

The following is a mostly true story of a sporting wager that took place between two young men on the evening of December 31, 1970 

Most of us were at least 18 years old on December 31, 1970, and in our hometown of Hastings-on-Hudson, New York it meant that most of us were "legal" by then. This meant we could drink alcohol legally, and drive motor vehicles legally, assuming we had a license to do so, not that we weren’t constantly breaking all kinds of driving laws, like drinking and driving…

I mention these things because back then a lot of the folks I hung with had been doing both for some time, often illegally and at the same time, but it was a dumber and gentler society 40+ years ago. I didn’t need to drive or need a lift to my favorite bar. I could walk to the place where a shot of Dewars and a beer chaser cost 85-cents. That was too rich for me – I was into Southern Comfort with my six-ounce draft, which was 20 cents cheaper.

A shot of Comfort and a beer chaser was 65 cents

By December 1970, I had dropped out of college after one miserable semester, and was getting ready to go back to work at what had been my summer job, working for a plumbing supply warehouse. I was planning on joining the union, which would raise my hourly pay from $2.00 to $2.25 per hour, which in turn would raise my take home pay to almost $68.00 a week. I was living back with my parents, determined to save enough money to buy a car so I could get the hell out, to somewhere, and to write.

Scott had decided against going to college in September, and was back living in his mom’s house after having been to Southern California for a stretch. He was on the road, looking for his muse to write, and for a time driving an ice cream truck. It was perhaps typical for Scott to have one of the few jobs in which you could lose more money (having to "lease" the truck) than you made (selling ice cream) in a given day.

Scott came back to Hastings where he found his situation was always a bit bizarre once his parents had gotten divorced. He seldom saw his dad, his mom was fairly loopy, and his older brother had graduated from Harvard and was actually getting paid to write.

Scott and I would too often sit at the bar back in those days, more than a few times when I was still only 17 years old. We’d get drunk and talk into the night, or even into the dawn about important things. We’d get drunk drinking Dewars and Comfort and Schaefer on tap. We’d be brutally honest with one another about women (we loved them), writing (we were sure that we were both very talented), and poetry (his sucked – mine sucked worse); or maybe it’d be music (Stones, Traffic) and movies (preferably with Paul Newman). We could argue endlessly about some things, and agree about almost everything else until it came to a difference of opinion about sports. Then, we could just agree to argue and swear, and hasn’t it always been that way between good friends when they argue about sports?

Scott probably felt that he knew more about sports for two pretty good reasons. The first was that he’d been our high school quarterback for 3 years, and had been an excellent basketball and baseball player too. He’d had a series of nasty of knee injuries while in school, and it seriously hampered his ability to play all sports, but he was a small guy anyway, maybe 5’8", and 150 pounds. It wasn’t as though he had a clear future to play any sport in college, let alone professionally, but a part of what made him good was his knowledge of all the games, and all the sports.

Scott read every great and not so great novel back then. He read popular stuff, classic stuff, and eclectic stuff. He knew everything about sports to the point that whatever it was that was in print back then on any major sport, he’d read it, and he had excellent recall. He was the kind of guy another guy would call up in the middle of the night to settle a dispute about which team won what game by what score in what year? Scott always knew the answer.

In 1970 there was no Internet, no Google, and no Bing, unless it was Dave Bing, the great college basketball player out of Syracuse. There was no 1-800-anything, or even 1-799-anything. No, what we had was the World Almanac that our parents had (hopefully) purchased, and many of us would thankfully take that thick paperback and pore over the numbers and the history contained in that wonderful annual reference book. If you didn’t have something like that Almanac available, you couldn’t really settle a sports argument, unless you knew Scott’s home phone number. If there had been a 1-800-Ask-Scot back then, he’d have made some serious dollars. Of course, he’d have to be home and answer the phone. Today, after 6 rings the phone would pick up and state "Scott is not in – please leave a message." Today, that would be a "you problem."

Scott and I weren’t best friends at the time, but we were pretty tight. I knew a lot about sports back then too, and I would often take him on in an argument, and once in a while we’d bet money on something. If it was a really big game, why, we’d bet upwards of $3.00, which was a pretty big bet back then for two guys who could both get hammered for 10 bucks. One night, half-drunk, we decided to hitchhike the 15 (or so) miles down Broadway into downtown Manhattan on a Friday night, with about $4.38 between us.

Best damn hot dogs in the world

Yeah, we got dropped off around 125^th Street, and then spent half of that $4.38 on two hot dogs smothered in that crazy and delicious New York City mix of steamed onions and red sauce. Another 45 cents for a pack of Marlboro, and over to Broadway around midnight to continue hitching, and three (much bigger and much older) guys from the Bronx picked us up in a titsed out Chrysler Imperial. They told us that they’d just saved our worthless lives, getting our white, hippie asses out of Harlem before we would’ve surely gotten ourselves killed over two bucks and change.

The Imperial

"How fucking stupid are you two assholes, anyway?" Too dumb to answer that question.

The car radio was blasting, and Little Peggy March came on to sing "I Will Follow Him," which had been a screechy, strident hit in 1964 or so, and the guys asked us to sing along to the song, which we declined to do.

"Sing it!" Outnumbered and out-manned, we sang:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JVhbusBDi4

"I love him I love him, I love him,
and where he goes
I’ll follow, I’ll follow, I’ll follow,
he’ll always be
my true love, my true love, my true love,
from now until,
forever, forever, forever,
I will follow him…"

"I'm stalking, I'm stalking..."

It was just a small part of another chapter, and we both thought we were going to take these idiotic experiences and become writers back then, and I guess we did become writers, though not in the ways we had figured. We were like two guys from some novel Jack Kerouac had never written while he was stoked on meth. I think we were trying to inspire one another to be the kinds of characters someone would write a story about, and hopefully, it would be us?

A Dharma Bum

My girlfriend was a beautiful and intelligent young lady whom I’d been with for some time. We were in love, and in lust, but she couldn’t figure out the fascination I had with Scott, and once said to me that I’d rather spend time with Scott than her.

There were times that I couldn’t argue that point, and didn’t, as it was often true. Love and sex will take a guy just so far before he’ll want to laugh and drink and argue and talk about sports. Scott was almost always enormously entertaining in so many ways. He was a very intelligent, endlessly funny, and thought provoking guy.

So, back to December 31, 1970, and there was a party a short walk up the hill from my house, but I wasn’t there. My girlfriend and I, along with another couple headed for a party in Riverdale, and I missed the party at my buddy Elmo’s house that evening.

Elmo’s 1970 New Year’s Eve party -- Scott was there, and Al was there.

Al and Scott were best friends at the time, and they were an amazing duo, feeding off one another’s energy from completely opposite places. Scott, the free wheeling child of divorce with little guidance or parenting, at all, and Al, coming from a conservative Jewish home with huge restrictions on freedom of any kind due to what I’d describe as oppressive parenting by Al’s father. In some magical way Al and Scott connected and established a friendship that thrived in a way that only two 18-year old guys can make one thrive.

Al soon became (and remains) one of my closest friends, but back then we were just starting our friendship. More than anyone else, Al became the one person I would always go to if I had some really important decision to make about my life. He was crazy and funny, but he was also logical and very, very smart. He only had one fault, and that was his weakness for gambling or betting on the wrong person, place or thing.

Before the big white stars

Al had worked a job through much of high school, and had saved enough money to purchase a dark blue, Ford Econoline Van. That big blue van was a beautiful thing, and very cool, when Al painted big white stars all over it and drove it down to Jackson, Mississippi to visit a (black) friend from high school was maybe not so cool? This was only 18 months or so after Kent State, Jackson State, Easy Rider, the Chicago Democratic Convention, and Tricky Dick Nixon becoming President – but Al survived all that on his trip to Dixie, and still had the van that New Years Eve.

Elmo’s older brother Bob was at the party too, and Bob was about as ramrod straight as his younger brother was bizarrely wound. Bob ended up in the kitchen of his house too, while Scott was there, and the subject (as it invariably would) turned to sports in general, then college basketball in particular. The conversation ultimately turned to an argument about which team had lost to UCLA in the 1965 NCAA (Men’s) Basketball Championship. Scott casually stated that it was Michigan but Bob insisted it was Texas Western (by then and now, the University of Texas at El Paso), and not only that, Bob stated he’d been at the game!

Scott repeated that Bob was wrong. He told Bob that Texas Western had been the team that won the title the following year, but Bob was certain he was right, and he was also getting pissed off that Scott had been correcting him on all kinds of sports related things they’d been talking about. Working into all of this was that some of Bob’s own friends were getting tired of all the BS coming out of him. All of these arguments were being mostly fueled by alcohol, and making Bob pretty edgy. Everyone was pretty high by this time that evening, and the argument escalated, got louder and grew snarly. Bob grew more strident in his conviction, but Scott knew that he was right, and wouldn’t back down. Scott would never back down when he was right, but Bob didn’t know that.

Then, Bob offered to bet money on the correct answer, and Scott accepted the bet.

It wasn’t the usual kind of big bet for Scott like the Super Bowl, so it wasn’t a $3.00 bet.

Nope, Bob wanted to bet $50.00 in cash.

Anton Chekov wandered into the room.

Wrote about a prior bet

"You’re on," Scott said. He was getting angry with Bob by this point, as a number of people were, and he and Bob shook hands on the bet.

Bob put $50.00 in cash on the kitchen counter and said, "Let me see your money."

Whoa! That didn’t happen very much back then, at least not in our world.

Cool Hand Luke had to say he could eat 50 eggs in one hour to get more than $50 bet on both sides of that wager. Up until he played pool with the Fat Man, Newman’s "Fast Eddie" Felson had to shoot a lot of pool before he could walk away with any cash close to fifty, and this bet wasn’t on performing, it was on knowing. Butch Cassidy would have probably just had the Sundance Kid shoot Bob, and take the money, but this wasn’t a movie.

Fifty Bucks!That was a lot of dollars for a lot of folks back then.

On December 31, 1970, you could fill your car’s gas tank, buy a carton of Marlboros, and a six-pack of Budweiser, and still have enough money left from a $10 bill to buy a late night breakfast at the Center Restaurant.

$50.00 was really a lot of money back then, especially to an 18-year old guy, but Scott had about $4.00 in his pocket, and if some folks at the party were willing to stake some of his bet for a piece of the action, well, there’d be some action. Al kicked in what he had, and Elmo put up a large chunk of the stake against his big brother, and that heightened tempers a bit more. About 7 or 8 folks kicked in the dollars needed to match the bet.

Al was there. He was buzzed, but Al knew…he just knew Scott was right on this one, as he was always right on this kind of thing. Al, who was always right on everything except betting on almost anything sports related knew his best friend was right. They were going to make some money, and make Elmo’s obnoxious brother look like a bigger jerk off than he’d already shown himself to be.

Al had zero doubt -- not for a second. Al would have personally funded the start up of 1-800-Ask Scot if such a thing had been possible back then, and would have rightly felt certain about making a small fortune.

So, the money was matched.

Great! "Now Bob, lets look up the answer…" in your family’s Encyclopedia Britannica, or World Almanac, or History of College Basketball, or something…but no, there was no something in the house, no Google, no Bing, and no 1-800-Ask Scot. No nothing.

There seemed to be no way at that time to resolve the bet until Al stated he was ready to drive to any place where a reference book could be found to settle the matter, and a few people laughed.

That's a bump, all right.

It was getting later into the evening by this time, and the weather had turned very nasty. A big snowstorm had started a few hours earlier, and it was close to being blizzard conditions by then. The night was windy and glistening with ice, and the streets were just about deserted.

At that point a kid named Beck volunteered that there was a 1967 almanac at his house, which was about a mile away, and Al had his van. A mission was arranged that Al and Beck would go get the almanac, and MJ said she’d come along for the ride.

Snowing like a bitch, hilly and icy roads, and Al driving his high-miles, Econoline van.

Sure sounds safe enough to me, but what did I know? During the summer just past, on more than a few occasions, Al would pile us boys and girls into his van and we’d drive up around Armonk, close to the New York and Connecticut border. After a short walk through the woods we’d come to a lake which was perfect for late night swims, and other healthy youth activities.

Al had installed a luggage rack on the roof on the van, and one night, after a trip to the lake, Elmo, Jake and I decided to ride on the roof rack while Al drove the last 2 miles or so back to Hastings before dropping us off. We were all a bit trashed, but the ride had been pretty exhilarating. After the three of us got down, and yelled our farewells, Al started away and the luggage rack immediately slid off the roof and crashed to the pavement. It may have been the last time I ever thought that there was a God, or the first time I realized that there was a special kind of God – the one that looked after stray dogs, babies, and drunk 17-year old boys?

Weave in and out of these at 45 mph

I had many adventures with Al in times shortly to come, and a number of them involved similarly safe travels about. For a while, Al had a job working for his uncle as a chauffeur, and often got to take this huge Chrysler Newport home with him, which meant we had some very nice wheels to go to all kinds of places in. One summer night I was in the car with Al as he was driving the Newport on our way back from Greenwich Village. We’d gone to see a midnight showing of the just released (original) "Night of the Living Dead." Al began to do a ‘weave,’ in and out of the posts holding up the elevated train lines in the north Bronx at a squealing tires rate of speed. Scared me so much I was laying on the floor in the back seat – I was more frightened of watching Al drive than I was of actually crashing. Maybe it was me that was among the "living dead?"

Others at Elmo’s house knew about Al’s driving, but I don’t know if Beck did? MJ did, but she was probably in some other dimension by then, and maybe she could be used as a sacrifice if things got tough? The three of them bundled up and set off from Elmo’s house.

Dashing through the snow, in a very creaky van, down the hill they go…and within a minute, the van slid deeply into a huge round-mound of snow…laughing all the way…ha, ha, ha.

Well, this was serious stuff now, and there was really only one rational choice, which was (of course) to ditch MJ, and proceed on foot. (MJ slogged safely back to Elmo’s)

There was about 6 inches of fresh, mostly unplowed snow on the ground by this time, so it took the boys some time to wade through the slush and ice to Beck’s house, wet and freezing all the way.

They got there, found the almanac, and just as Al had known, Scott was right! Of course it was Michigan that had lost to UCLA back in 1965, not Texas Western. They had just made themselves a nice little chunk of money! Al and Beck did a little victory jig which did little to sober them up, but gave them enough energy to forgo a phone call. They decided to take the almanac and hike another mile back through the blizzard, and up the hill to Elmo’s house.

Frosted and exhausted they got back to the party, and didn’t reveal a thing until all ambulatory folks had gathered in the kitchen for the final determination of whether it was Bob or Scott, who had won the bet?

There will be an answer

Al held the $50.00 wager up over his head while Beck read the fateful words from the holy almanac, and Scott was the winner!

Bob took the Almanac and read the words defining his humiliation and was heard whining "But I was at the game…I was there…" to much slurring derision.

And Scott said to Bob, "Well, now that we have that straight, keep your money."

So, after Al’s freezing round-trip foray through a blizzard, that’s exactly what happened. Everyone got their part of the wager back – no blood, no foul, as we used to say on the basketball court.

Aside from being a great story about faith and friendship, there was no nothing.

"Yeah, well, sometimes nothin’ can be a real cool hand."

I’ll bet ya.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Don’t Cry For Arte Moreno

Self-made billionaire Arturo Moreno sold his advertising business in 1998 for $8-billion, and began a quest to purchase a MLB franchise. Moreno, a Tucson, Arizona native lives in Phoenix, and tried unsuccessfully to buy the Arizona Diamondbacks, ultimately settling for buying the Anaheim Angels from Disney in 2003, for about $184-million.

Arte Moreno is no one’s fool, and by all reports, this very private man is staunchly conservative, both in is his politics and in his business, and a very (very) smart businessman.

For the most part, Moreno has been very careful regarding huge money free agent signings, especially after the 2007 Gary Matthews, Jr. signing that turned into a fiasco when Matthews tested positive for performance enhancing drugs a short time later. Stories filtered out that Moreno was livid, and who can blame him? The Angels have paid Matthews over $22-million the last two years and Matthews hasn’t been with the team since 2009 and out of baseball since the end of the 2010 season.

From 2007 forward, the Angels have been reluctant to give out long-term/big dollar deals, preferring instead to concentrate on signing and developing excellent prospects. Being in a weak AL West, the Angels were able to win their division 5 times in 6 seasons up until 2010. The Angels has had a series of good but not great teams, and the Texas Rangers have of course caught them, and passed them the last two seasons.

Albert, Arte, and C.J.

So what changed Arte Moreno’s mind? What was it that made Moreno okay offers totaling about $330-million to Albert Pujols and C.J. Wilson?

Well, that’s basically walking around money for Arte, who just recently signed a deal of his own that brings him $150-million a year! (I wonder if A-Rod knows about this deal, as I think Arte is only about half the ball player Rodriguez is, and Moreno is 65 years old?)

Arturo Moreno recently signed a 20-year, $3-billion deal with FOX Sports that was about as brilliant a business move in the world of sports that I have ever seen. For more on this deal, read http://articles.latimes.com/2011/dec/08/sports/la-sp-angels-fox-tv-20111209

In one day, Moreno’s Angels went from being a good team to the odds-on favorite to win the 2012 American League pennant. The Angel payroll in 2011 was about $117-million, and after the coming year both Torii Hunter’s ($18-million) and Bobby Abreu’s ($9-million) contacts will come off the books. Adding about $41-million for Pujols and Wilson isn’t as burdensome at second glance, is it?

(All that said I am still trying to figure out why the Angels acquired Vernon Wells from Toronto last season. Wells is due about $21-million a year through 2014, but it’s my guess that the Blue Jays are paying a chunk of this money?)

The reality is that the Pujols signing is absurd from a long term baseball perspective, as no one can reasonably justify paying a baseball player $25-million a season when he’s in his 40’s, but for the next 4 or 5 years, it may just be a bargain. (I’m not a Pujols fan per se, though I do like the guy, and he’s been saying for years that he has never used drugs of any kind to aid his baseball performance. I hope that proves to always be true, even though I have been a pretty loyal fan of the Rangers the last few seasons.)

I also really like C.J. Wilson, who is a So Cal native, and a very mature and hard-working kid from all reports. He was the guy on Texas who’d sit with Josh Hamilton in another room drinking Ginger Ale while their Ranger teammates popped champagne corks, and guzzled away in celebration of two straight AL pennants. Wilson chooses to be a non-drinker who took it upon himself to help his recovering addict teammate. So Texas not only loses their (arguably) best starting pitcher, they lose Josh Hamilton’s "sponsor," and lose him to their biggest divisional rival, who also just acquired the best hitter in the game.

So no, don’t cry for Arte Moreno.

No Brains? No Braun

ESPN reported that Ryan Braun tested positive for a performance-enhancing drug approximately one month before he was voted the National League MVP, and he now faces a 50-game suspension beginning next season.

Ryan blows it

Braun is disputing the result (calling it "B.S.") according to USA Today, which reportedly revealed he had elevated levels of testosterone in his body.

MLB is trying to confirm the test through the World Anti-Doping Agency in Montreal, according to the report.

"There are highly unusual circumstances surrounding this which will support Ryan's complete innocence and demonstrate there was absolutely no intentional violation of the program," a Braun spokesman said in a press release.

Hmm, "no intentional violation," I wonder what the hell that means? To me, it kind of has an "Officer, I didn’t know the gun was loaded" ring to it, but I have to admit that I am initially saddened by this, rather than pissed off about it. I’ve been a fan of the Ryan Braun I have seen, as he seems like a nice kid, but it’s hard for me to imagine what it’s like being a fan of the Milwaukee Brewers this morning? They know they are losing Prince Fielder to free agency, but things evened up when Pujols signed with the Angels, and now this.

I’ll get pissed off about it later.

An Early Valentine’s Day

2011-2012 Hot Stove Musings #2

Bobby in disguise

Looks like Bobby Valentine is the guy in Boston, and from what I can gather so far, Red Sox nation loves it. So far, the only really negative shot that I am aware of was tossed by (New York Times baseball writer and Blogger) Murray Chass.  He posted his opinion of Valentine November 27 on his blog at:
http://www.murraychass.com/

It’s probably true that new Red Sox GM Ben Cherington really wanted to hire Dale Sveum as the new manager. The fact that he lost out on that one to his old mentor (Theo Epstein) in Chicago may sting, but there is no doubt in my mind that Valentine can handle the heat from the enormous media spotlights that come with the Boston job. It’s also true that Valentine has been consistently ahead of the curve in using a Sabermetric approach in his player evaluations, so he fits right in with what Boston ownership has signed on for and has had success with.

With David Ortiz likely to sign somewhere other than Boston, it basically leaves Josh Beckett and Kevin Youkilis as the only guys left on the team from the old guard who is still a front line guy. Youkilis, Tim Wakefield and Jason Varitek would be the only other players left from the '04 team, if Ortiz departs.

Open for change?

Regarding Bobby V, the guys on WEEI (John Dennis and Gerry Callahan) this morning were referring to a game that ESPN broadcast this summer in which Valentine stated that Carl Crawford couldn't be successful hitting with that exaggerated open stance that he's been using for his entire MLB career. The WEEI guys thought that was a great thing, that Valentine would work with Crawford to change that. Makes me wonder how Crawford was so awful, yet garnered a $142-million contract using it all those years? Toss out the 60 odd games Crawford played as a rookie in 2002, and last season, and he’s a .297 hitter for his career.

We laughed well, and loved poorly

WEEI also had a long phone conversation today with Valentine’s former GM with the Mets, Steve Phillips. Phillips, to his credit, and no doubt do to him taking his 12-step program seriously took a huge part of the blame for the Mets failures after 2000, saying that is was his fault for not giving Valentine better players. He also said he'd hire Valentine again, if he was a GM. (As an aside, I wonder what the odds are of Phillips ever getting a GM job in MLB ever again?)

In other news, one of the teams rumored to be interested in signing Ortiz is Tampa Bay, which sounds odd to me, considering Big Papi wants 3 years, and I have to believe at least 12 million per? This doesn't sound like a move that the Rays I have come to know would be interested in making? According to ESPN, the Rays 2011 payroll came in a little under $42-million, ranking next to the bottom in MLB. The Rays had 16 players whose combined salaries totaled less than $13-million last season, and only Johnny Damon made more than $5-million

Psst, Alfonso, the ball is below you

Another rumor has Oakland interested in signing Alfonso Soriano. Is it just me, or has Oakland become the prime destination for semi-washed up old sluggers the last few years? Soriano would fit right in with Hideki Matsui, Jason Giambi, Frank Thomas, and Mike Piazza, wouldn’t he? After Big Papi plays out this last free agent contract he’ll soon be signing, book him a ticket to the Bay Area in time for the 2015 season, I guess?

330+ pounds of disaster?

In the odd ball signing so far, the Kansas City Royals sign Jonathan Broxton to be the set-up guy for Joakim Soria? I think they are paying about 4 million for one year, which sounds like a lot of money for that guy, on that team? Don't the Royals already have some talented kids in that bullpen that can do the job that they can roster at 10% of the price for Broxton? I thought Tim Collins and especially Aaron Crow did pretty well in set up roles last season? Maybe the thought in KC is to stretch them out this spring, and have them begin to fill slots in the rotation, as Texas is intent on doing with Neftali Feliz?

In news out of Houston, Tampa Bay has given new Astros owner Jim Crane permission to speak with their current General Manager Andrew Friedman, about taking over a similar role with the Astros. All Friedman has done in the last 4 season is help get the Rays to the playoffs 3 times with one of the smallest payrolls in MLB.

Finally, with the tentative move of the Houston Astros to the American League in 2013, it will mean inter-league play will have completely ceased being a novelty, as at least two teams in each league will always be playing a team from the other league throughout the entire MLB season.  And Houston, after easily being the worst team in the National League this past season, will soon have a chance of replicating the feat in the American League.

Go 'Stros!

“The Team that Changed BASEBALL”

The subtitle of the above named book that was written by Bruce Markusen and published in 2006 is

Look inside at Amazon

"Roberto Clemente and the 1971 Pittsburgh Pirates."

Markusen works for the Baseball Hall of Fame, and can be found contributing to the http://baseballguru.com web site.  It's not a great book, but a useful one for fans and historians.

Markusen’s book was one I read in late October, while on vacation, and it struck me how baseball had missed a great opportunity to celebrate a significant anniversary.

What was significant?

Well, if you’re old enough, or enough of a baseball historian, or Pittsburgh Pirates historian, the nine players that were written into the line up of the game Pittsburgh played against the Philadelphia Phillies on September 1, 1971 will supply you with the answer.

Those 9 names in the lineup were:

Rennie Stennett, 2B
Gene Clines, CF
Roberto Clemente, RF
Willie Stargell, LF
Manny Sanguillen, C
Dave Cash, 3B
Al Oliver, 1B
Jackie Hernandez, SS
Dock Ellis, P

Do you have the answer now?

I promise that if you read long enough (or just scan down) the answer will be revealed.

In fairness and in the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t know, nor did I grasp the significance in the title of the book when I first looked at the title on Amazon. I was looking for books on baseball, and leaning towards histories of National League teams in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Those old Pirate teams with Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell was one of my favorite clubs for many years. I still find myself rooting for them now, though I was not a fan of the team during the Barry Bonds and Bobby Bonilla years.

Clemente won 4 NL batting titles

Just as Bonds will go down in history as one of the most polarizing ball players of all time, Clemente has gone down as one of it’s most revered. I pretty much agree with that, especially with what I know about Clemente. Based on the many accounts I have heard and read, he was a great human being, and maybe a better man than ball player – and he was a fantastic ball player.  Clemente was one of the best hitters in baseball, hitting .291 or better for 14 straight years, and had the best outfield throwing arm I have ever seen.

Clemente was a very intelligent, thoughtful, and proud man, and felt (justifiably) insulted and marginalized by the media during most of his career. He wanted to be called Roberto, but was generally called Bob or Bobby for many years, and was often quoted by the press in that phonetically-geeky (and insulting) way old beat writers had when jotting down the words of Latin-American player with limited English. Call it the "Beisbol been bery bery goo to me syndrome." Few wrote about all the good things he did when back home in Puerto Rico, and what a great teammate he was. It took Clemente’s tragic death for most of us to learn about what a great man he’d been to the end.

When Clemente died, Willie Stargell was thrust into the role of being a leader of the team.  He soon adapted his "Pops" persona, and did an excellent job. He was smart, quotable, and funny with the media. He was a well-liked teammate and the primary judge in the Pirate locker room's kangaroo court on a consistently winning team for the rest of the ‘70’s. Pops was named co-MVP (with Keith Hernandez) of the National League in ’79. Willie was an elder (38) statesman by then, and sentiment combined with a hot-hitting September to carry him to share in an award he really didn’t deserve.

He did, however, absolutely deserve the two MVP’s he received in the NLCS and World Series that year. In 10 games that post-season, Stargell hit .414, with 9-runs, 5-homers, and 13-RBI. Multiply those last 3 numbers by 16 (to project a full season of play), and you’d have a season of 90 homers and 208 RBI.

The ump says play ball, not work ball.

Not too shabby. Looking at those numbers I can’t help but wonder why (Baltimore manager) Earl Weaver never ordered any of his pitchers to walk Willie intentionally?  He drew zero walks in the series.

In a further aside, Willie Stargell did the most intentionally funny things I have ever seen happen during a MLB game.

Sometime during a game in the 1970’s, Willie was running to second base when he realized that the ball was going to badly beat him to the bag. Willie decided to pre-emptively slide into second base, and then perform a 'pop-up' a few feet from the bag and signal the ump for a time out! I saw this sequence replayed on TV many times over a number of years, and it never fails to crack me up, especially when Willie smiles as he’s tagged out.

But what about those 1971 Pirates, The Team that Changed BASEBALL?

Once I checked the book out a bit before buying it, I did recall that on September 1, 1971, the Pittsburgh Pirates fielded the very first lineup in Major League Baseball history will all black and/or Latin players. More than 24 years after Jackie Robinson’s MLB debut, a ball club finally broke that last, unofficial barrier, and fielded a team without a white face.

What can’t be overlooked in this story is that Pittsburgh was a very good team that season, winning the pennant and beating a great Baltimore Oriole’s club that won it’s second AL pennant in a row, and would win again in 1972.

Did it have to be a very good team that could be allowed to not field a white team for Pittsburgh?

The story is that for years there was an informal quota system in MLB, that teams were "allowed" to have only so many non-white ball players, and this was the case for a long period of time after Robinson broke in. Gradually, as it became apparent in the late 1950’s that most of the superb black baseball talent was signing with or being traded to National League teams such as the Giants, Pirates, Braves, Reds, Dodgers and Cardinals, and that those teams were winning championships, things began to change.  The National League began to win almost every All Star game, and this was when the game was a matter of league honor to most players -- they played the game to win every year.

When Frank Robinson was traded from the Reds in the NL to Baltimore prior to the 1966 season, few could have predicted that the Orioles would become a dynasty, with Robby winning the Triple Crown, and leading Baltimore to a World Series Championship. All told, Robinson was a member of four Baltimore pennant winners and two World Series winners. (Imagine Frank Robinson playing on those superb Reds teams of the late 1960's and 1970's with Morgan, Bench, Rose, and Perez?)  Robby played a National League style of ball his entire career – fast, hard and aggressive baseball that was only to ramp up once all the new stadiums were built with fast-track artificial turf. Speed had once again become a premium and a needed ability in ball players.

The significance of what happened on September 1, 1971 was not lost on the Pirate players, and to a man they were happy and proud for themselves, and their club.

Many years prior, during the period of time when the Negro Leagues were going strong, Pittsburgh often had two Major (Negro) League teams – the Pittsburgh Crawfords and the Homestead Grays. The city had a history of being able to watch the excellent style exhibited by all the great black players of the time – and thousands of folks did so, the Grays and Crawfords often outdrawing the MLB Pirates.

By the early 1950’s, the Pirates were arguably the worst team in the National League. After Branch Rickey took over the GM duties in 1951, the team began to acquire some talented players, and it was Ricky that drafted Clemente when he was left off the Dodgers roster after the 1954 season.

The Pirates still finished last or next-to-last for 7 of the next 8 years, but managed a second place finish in 1958, and won the World Series when Mazeroski left Yogi watching his shot leave the yard in 1960.

Of course, Rickey was long gone by then, and the Pirates could never manage more than a couple of third-place finishes in the 1960’s, even though they had some good hitting teams in the decade.
Then, starting with a (NL East) division win in 1970, the Pirates won a total of 6 divisions, 2 pennants, and two World Series in the 1970’s, ending a great run with the "We are family" 1979 team, where they once again beat Baltimore.

Pittsburgh managed just two 2^nd place division finishes in the 1980’s, before Bonds and the boys ran off three straight division titles from 1990 to 1992, and ’92 is the last year the club finished with a record better than .500.

It looks like the current Pirates are making some progress, and had a nice start to the 2011 season, only to crumble badly in the second half. The have some very nice young hitters, and I am hoping that just as the good-hitting Pittsburgh team of the ‘60’s eventually found enough pitching to win, so will this group.

It would be nice to see, as I imagine we’d get to hear more about the team that changed baseball, a little more than 40 years ago, and maybe get to see Willie signal for a time out, one more time?

The 1971 Pittsburgh Piartes

Dan Lozano, Pimp to the Stars

As baseball free agent singings began to gather momentum, a hefty manila envelope containing a package of information was anonymously delivered to every major sports media outfit in the country a few days ago. Sports Illustrated, ESPN, Fox Sports, and other media outlets were all given an enormous amount papers, photos, and extremely lurid details about a baseball agent named Dan Lozano.

Pimp to, or pimp for?

Who is Dan Lozano?

Lozano is the agent currently trying to negotiate Albert Pujols's new contract.

Deadspin also received the package and it was Deadspin that "broke" the story’. Be assured that there will be more than a little bit of ongoing conversation about Lozano, who also currently represents a number of other top MLB players. Some of the players (aside from Pujols) that have or have had Lozano represent them are Jimmy Rollins, Mike Piazza, and Carlos Beltran. Of course, no sleazy baseball agent could last long without some kind of relationship with A-Rod, so he wanders through this story too.

When confronted with the story, Pujols indicated he was sticking with his guy, but one has to wonder if Albert really knows any of this stuff, some of which has hard evidence backing it up.

Sports agency is a fast and loose profession at all times, with mega-millions of dollars to be made by athletes and agents alike, and it’s my guess that some other agents in the biz compiled all that was contained in those big manila envelopes. No doubt put together by an agent or agents who’ve crossed paths with Lozano over time.

There are dozens of stories out there right now on all of this, but few will cover it like Deadspin. Who ever said that baseball was boring?

http://deadspin.com/5861982/dan-lozano-albert-pujolss-superagent-king-of-sleaze-mountain

September Swoon – a baseball book review

A recently completed two week Cape Cod vacation that Susan and I take most every year gave us both an opportunity to do a lot of reading. This year, among other books, I read 4 books on baseball history.

First up:

September Swoon: Richie Allen, the ’64 Phillies, and Racial Integration, by William F. Kashatus, published in 2004.

This book was the only one to arrive sealed in plastic, which I took to mean that it has not been a big seller. In checking the publication date, I found it interesting that the Pennsylvania State University Press is the publisher.

The 1964 Phillies (of course) were the team that claimed the dubious distinction of having the worst meltdown in a pennant race of all time, when they lost a 6.5 game lead, with 12 games left in the season. I still think this one is the 2^nd best of the worst ever, as recent collapses by Boston this season, and the Mets and Angels of more recent vintage were not choke-jobs that cost a pennant, and the best of the worst is still the Brooklyn Dodgers of 1951.

The author (Kashatus) was 5 years old when his hometown Phils folded down the stretch. The Cardinals got hot and slipped past the Giants and Reds, along with Philadelphia to win it. The author was able to enlist the help of many players from the ’64 team in his telling of the story. He also did some excellent research, and spoke with some of the writers that had covered the team.

The racial element is discussed throughout, and it is very important to note that Dick Allen was the first super-star African-American ballplayer the Phils signed. He received a very large ($70,000) bonus for the time, and was one of the best hitters in all of MLB immediately. Certainly, in 1964, he was a hero, and the NL Rookie of the Year, but the team’s failure that season in many ways made Allen the focal point of Phillies fans ire in later years, when the team continued to fail.

Kashatus writes at length of the blame Allen took in subsequent years for the team’s failures, but the fact is that in 1964 it was Manager Gene Mauch’s fault that the Phils lost, as anything else. Mauch’s use of his two top starting pitchers (Jim Bunning and Chris Short) almost exclusively in the last two weeks proved to be a fiasco, and the team couldn’t hit enough to grab a win in 10 straight games. Mauch "just wore the pitching out" in his own words, but remained manager for a few more years, and instrumental in trading young players for veterans that were never as good as they’d been. The team got worse as Dick Allen got better.

Allen was a Pennsylvania kid, from a single parent family. His mom raised Dick and his two brothers as many moms did back then – with love, discipline, hard work, and the church. Both of Dick’s brothers ended up playing in the majors, but Dick was the star. The Phillies signed Allen and sent him to Little Rock, Arkansas to play his first year of pro ball, where he was the first and the only black player to play for the team. This was in 1960, and Allen went through all the horrible abuse and death threats others before him had experienced, yet he still managed to lead the league in total bases. He couldn’t understand why Philadelphia would send him to Arkansas.

Of course at this same time, Philadelphia was a very oppressive and racist city, in part due to the policies of the police force. It was also true that there had been a large in-migration of Southern Blacks for a number of years. The reaction of a large segment of the white population was all too typical for the 1960’s, when racial equality was something people were fighting and dying for in this country, and the white folks didn’t like all those black folks – at least not so close. The difference was the hatred was often more subtle up north, but in Philadelphia, it became palpable.

Early in 1965, the year after Philly’s collapse, Allen and (teammate) Frank Thomas (a veteran white MLB player) had a small scrum on the field before a game. It became huge news because it was precipitated by a racist remark Thomas had made to Allen. Allen stated he was tired of Thomas’s BS, and his harassing of young black players on the team. Allen was mentoring the younger guys and standing up for them, remembering how tough he’d had it in Little Rock. Thomas was a notorious jerk, and most of the players Kashatus spoke with speak to all of this to some degree. Fact was that Thomas wasn’t called "Donkey," because he was a genius. Thomas was soon shipped off, and the spot light shined on Dick Allen, who took the blame for everything that went wrong in Philadelphia from that point forward.

Philly fans pelting Santa

It was then that Dick Allen became a marked man in Philadelphia, and this is a city whose sports fans have been known for cheering when opposing players get seriously hurt, and for throwing chunks of ice at Santa Claus.

Dick Allen was an amazingly talented hitter and athlete. He was extremely powerful, and often swung a 40-ounce bat, maybe the last man to have used a bat that heavy. I was a huge Met fan back then, and was always terrified when Allen came up to bat against my team. All that talent didn’t matter anymore, Allen was a problem, and would be booed, blamed, and harassed.

Not long after the Thomas incident, life got too heavy for Allen, and he grew to hate Philadelphia. He wanted to be traded away, and he started to drink too much at times. Injuries came along, with most everyone in the media skeptical regarding their severity or even their existence?

Allen was miserable, and even allowing for the errors in judgment and action that he admits to having made, it was sad ending to what should have been a long and great career in the City of Brotherly Love. Allen went on to play a number of years with other teams, and won the AL MVP with the White Sox in 1972. He actually came back to Philadelphia to play in 1975-76, and made it to the post-season that last year in Philly, then ended his career in Oakland, after the 1977 season. He has never received much support for the Hall of Fame, but I can say with absolute confidence that he was as good a hitter as anyone I have ever seen in baseball, for about 5 or 6 years.

Kashatus is not a great writer, but he is a pretty fair one, and he covers his subject matter well. His is not an easily flowing narrative, but his book has historical value of a time, a place, a team, and a man (Allen). It is a story well worth knowing for any baseball fan.

2011-12 Hot Stove Musings #1

"50 million, yeah!"

Papelbon signing with the Phillies?
$12.5 million for 4-years is reportedly enough for Jonathan Papelbon to sign with the team that right now has to again be the presumptive favorite to win the National League.

After what was a mediocre 2010 season by Papelbon’s earlier standard, he had perhaps his best year as Boston’s closer, a disappointing September aside.

I can’t help but wonder if the Phillies will have enough hitting to make up for aging, fading, and injury prone stars such as Utley, Ibanez, Howard, and Polanco?

This deal, if it is made, clinches Roy Oswalt finding a new team, and presents Boston with probably handing their closer gig to Daniel Bard.

With Jimmy Rollins a free agent for the Phils, will they make an offer to Jose Reyes?

Pujols taking his talents to South Beach?
A new stadium and a new name has the Miami Marlins apparently ready to spend some dollars in free agency, as they’ve reportedly made an offer not only to Pujols, but the Mets Reyes, and the White Sox Mark Buerhle as well.

Marlins owners Jeffrey Loria has been notoriously tight-fisted with money during his ownership of the team, but thinks his club can average 30,000 in attendance, and take advantage of the enormous Latin-American population in the area – hence the signing of Ozzie Guillen as manager.

I am not sure what signing Reyes means in respect to Hanley Ramirez, the incumbent (and All Star) shortstop, other than finally moving him to the outfield, something that’s been talked about for some time.

If it does happen the Miami signs all three of these guys, will they have a TV Special and call themselves the Dream Team? It would certainly create a lot more interest in the NL East, which with Atlanta sure to be stronger in 2012, may challenge the AL East for best division in MLB?

Francona to manage the Cardinals?
I am thinking this won’t happen, but if it did, it would immediately make me wonder who Tito would bring on as his pitching coach? I am not making a beer and take-out chicken joke. Fact is that Dave Duncan is 66-years old, and his wife is battling cancer. Beyond that potential roadblock, if Duncan does not return, how good is that Cardinal pitching staff? Getting Adam Wainwright back and fully healthy has to be a huge priority in addition to keeping Pujols, or trying to fill that huge void if he leaves.

Isn’t Prince Fielder the top free agent signing?

A Prince and a King

No offense to Pujols, but Fielder is 4 years younger than Albert, and entering what should be his prime seasons, whereas Pujols is soon to be exiting his. I think the biggest signing this winter will be Theo Epstein wrapping up Fielder for 6-7 years, then finding the lucky manager that will be inking him into the #4 spot in the line up 160 or so times a season.

Some time back I advanced the idea of Epstein bringing in Francona to manage the Cubs? While I still think it’s possible for that to happen, wouldn’t it be fun to see the Cubs signing Pujols, and the Cards signing Francona and Prince?

Won’t happen, but it’s fun to think about.

No Yu!

Not you, Yu, as in Yu Darvish, the latest in an apparently long line of Japanese starting pitchers readyand willing to play in America for the millions someone will give him.

In many ways, Darvish is a lot different than those that have preceded him, not the least of which is his weight of 220 pounds that is spread nicely across a height of 6’5". Those are the kinds of numbers scout love to see in addition to a fastball in the upper 90’s, fabulous command, and an age of only 25.

Many teams will not be able to afford to sign him, and the few that do have the dollars are well aware of the generally spotty history Japanese starting pitchers have had, based on the contracts they have received in the U.S.

Maybe we can finally answer the question of whether you can ever have enough pitching by saying Yu is enough pitching?

Wilson Ramos rescued from kidnappers in Venezuela

Ramos reunited with his wife

The National’s catcher was rescued from his ordeal the other day, and it’s further evidence that you just may not ever be able to go home again? This type of occurrence will happen more and more, making it likely that even moderately successful ballplayers will be moving many folks in their families to the U.S.

Venezuela has been haunted in recent years by the kidnapping of rich and famous people. The mother of former major league pitcher Victor Zambrano was kidnapped in 2009, as was the son of Rangers catcher Yorvit Torrealba, and his uncle. Going back farther we had former Angels infielder Gus Polidor being killed in April, 1995 while trying to prevent the kidnapping of his infant son via a carjacking.  It was very nice to see Ramos escape a nasty situation.