Mastersball

I remember pretty clearly when Hideki Irabu hit the Major Leagues.

It was in 1997, and at the time my team the Lawr of Averages (I always liked that name) was hunkered down in last place in my Bill James League.  The rules were that a player was not eligible for drafting until the Sunday following the player's Major League debut, so that Sunday, July 13--three days after his Yankees debut--I picked Irabu off the free agent pool.

Now, we all knew Irabu was coming, and we all knew that I was going to have first shot, so I got a number of trade offers for the rights to the import, who if you remember had this circuitous route to the Bronx after the Padres purchased the right hander's contract from Chiba Lotte.

But, Irabu would only play for the Yankees, and eventually the Bombers offered a bunch of prospects like Andy Fox and David Weathers for the rights to negotiate with Irabu.

The pitcher eventually signed for $12.8 million.

Unfortunately, I got caught up in the same hype as the Yankees, and I not only did not trade the then untested in the Major Leagues pitcher, I froze him with six other players.

I think I might have learned a valuable lesson, though, for it made me want guys like Daisuke Matsuzaka to prove themselves to me before being willing to go on a limb.

In the end he was 34-35, 5.15 over 126 games, and 514 innings.  Irabu started 80 and whiffed 405, numbers that pale in contrast to his Japanese totals of 72-69, 3.55 over 1286.1 innings, with 1282 whiffs. And, I had forgotten that Irabu garnered 16 saves over his last season of 2002 with the Rangers, when he was a non-complementary 3-8, 5.74 mark.

Ultimately he never really pitched well enough over all six seasons together  to deserve the total $12.8 million, and after the Yankees he was dealt to the Expos, and finally the Rangers when the lights went out.

I'm not sure what really did not work for poor Irabu, but he was both hyped, and like so many never lived up to the advance press. In fact it was not even close.

But, as if the inability to consistently get hitters out was not enough of a plague, Irabu had the pleasure of being publicly ridiculed by his boss, George Steinbrenner, who referred to his pitcher as a "fat pussy toad" when Irabu missed covering first.

Poor Irabu was found dead--an apparent suicide--in his home earlier in the week. Obviously none of us will ever know why he did what he did. But, I have to think all that success in Japan followed by all that mediocrity here could not have helped.

Beware the hype.

Back in June of 1969, a few months before Woodstock and right around the time I was graduating from high school, the Minnesota Twins selected Bert Albert Blyleven as their third round pick of the June draft.

Bert spent his 1969 season first at Rookie ball and then Orlando of the Florida State League, going 7-2, 2.09 over 69 innings, earning a promotion in 1970 to Double-A Evansville. There the 19-year old went 4-2, 2.50 over eight more starts and 54 more innings, and then just a year later, on June 5, 1970, the right hander made his Major League debut, and never looked back.

Bert tossed another 164 innings at Metropolitan Stadium that year, going 10-9, 3.18, striking out 135 and started a run of ten straight years over which he hit double digits in wins and twelve over which he threw more than 200 innings.

Over his career of  22 years, Blyleven played for five teams, the Twins, Rangers, Pittsburgh, Cleveland (then back to the Twins), finishing with the Angels from whom he retired on October 4, 1992 after 685 starts and 4970 innings. Striking out 3709, to 1322 walks and 4632 hits allowed (1.19 WHIP), Blyleven surely did have among the best, if not the best curve of his time.

I saw Bert pitch a few times, and his pitch surely did drop off the edge of the table in classic form, and his body of stats also bears basic totals of 287-250, 3.31.

After 13 seasons of increased voter percentage, starting with 17.5% in 1998 to 79.9% this year, the durable pitcher made it into the Hall of Fame, to which he will be inducted over the next week.

Hall of Fame voting is obviously strange, and one of the greatest sources of debate in human kind because, well, we all have our opinions.

For instance, I am not so hot with Andre Dawson being in the Hall, though I know he was a fine player. He was also 226 hits shy of 3000 and 62 short of 500 homers, both pretty good barometers. Not to mention his career on-base percentage was just .329, and that does not ring Hall to me.

I mean, Al Oliver and Vada Pinson and Steve Garvey and Bill Buckner all had just around the same amount of hits as Dawson, and, all had tremendous careers. I am also a supporter of both Dwight and Darrell Evans for that matter, if Dawson is Hall worthy (Dawson was elected in his ninth year of eligibility, by the way).

Well, as the criteria are vague for hitters, same with pitchers. For, I think Jack Morris and Tommy John and especially Jim Kaat all belong, just as I think Blyleven should have been voted in a lot sooner.

Bert was, like Morris and Kaat, a guy you wanted to give the ball to in a critical game.

He was cool. He was focused. And, Bert won.

Blyleven never did win a Cy Young, and he only won 20 games once, in 1973 when he went 20-17, 2.52, over 325 innings and 40 starts. And, during that one season he tossed nine shutouts. Yes, that is right. Nine in one year.

I am not sure exactly what one must do to prove himself Hall worthy, but that one 1973 season is the icing on the cake for me. Anyway, I am glad Bert was finally recognized appropriately for his stellar play, career, and contributions to baseball.

Since I get to be in the press box, I get to actually see Blyleven in the flesh from time to time, though I am pretty sure he does not really know me or who I am. And, with players like Bert, I always tell them how much I enjoyed watching them play.  Bert was gracious when I told him that.

And, well, now I am looking forward to the next Twins series in Oakland so I can congratulate him accordingly.

Earlier this year I got to play in the Strat-O-Matic 50^th Anniversary League, with a lot of luminaries. In the 30-team league, each owner was assigned a franchise, and from there each of us got to pick a season and team we wanted to play (although the games were played out on computer).

I selected the 1962 Giants, and actually made it to the first round of the playoffs, largely due to a month’s run where my team went 20-8, outscoring my opponents 111-110.

Well, I am not so sure if my 2011 Scoresheet team has stumbled unable to put away a win in the fashion that that Strat-O team was able to win. In fact, earlier in the week I wrote about the travails of my Tiger’s Blood team during my weekly KFFL piece.

In doing so, I sent a note to Scoresheet brain trust Jeff Barton, something I always do when I write about a format. That is, let the owner of that format and web site know about the piece.

Well, Jeff did a little research, and noted that my tough luck was not really so tough: rather I simply faced better teams, who were hot at the time of the match-ups.

As I noted in the KFFL piece, over a two-week span my team went 2-11 during head-to-head play, and dropped from first to last in our division.

Well, according to Jeff, the first week of my slide, when my team went 0-6, we faced pitchers who on the field posted a 2.30 ERA and 7.6 H/9 allowed, while the hitters we faced were .278/.341/.480 meaning an OPS of .821.

The next week was better at 2-5, but then our pitching opposition was recorded a 3.15 ERA, with 8.4 H/9, while the hitters were .266/.322/.444 and a .766 OPS.

Jeff noted that “Both of those weeks you faced pitchers who were overall better than average (a *lot* better than average two weeks ago - composite ERA of 2.30 in the Majors is pretty darn hot pitching.)  And you also faced better than average hitting.  Once again, especially two weeks ago when you went 0-6.  You faced pitchers with a great ERA and hitters who had an overall real life OPS of .821 - this year that is way above average hitting.”

Not that this makes my losses and fall in the standings feel better, but, well, it is easier to handle getting clobbered by good teams than bad ones.

My team rebounded a little just before the break, going 3-1, and though a large chunk of the season remains, and I am only five games back in my division, I can still make the post-season.

However, the news of playing better teams is sobering, as it casts a pall on my chances to win a title, for, well, I think there are other teams simply better than mine.

Still, baseball is a game of optimists, and with Roy Halladay, Clayton Kershaw, and Shaun Marcum as my 1-2-3 starters, like those goofy Giants across the bay who took the prize last year on the strength of their arms, I guess anything is possible.

Especially in baseball.

You know the old axiom that one of the beauties of baseball is that despite the number of games and lore and well-defined rules, that every year you can see something you never saw before?

Well, I think this year takes the cake for me, for I cannot remember seeing as many strange plays as I have over the past few months while working games.

Mind you, I am not so much talking freak plays, like Buster Posey being taken out by Scott Cousins, or Freddy Sanchez dislocating his shoulder, though I was indeed in attendence for each of those travails.

And, even strange stuff like a pitcher unassisted, where the hurler picks up a ground ball and is able to tag the batter before he can reach first. For, that is unusual, but, not say as strange as last Thursday, when with Hanley Ramirez on second, Logan Morrison crushed a ball off the right field wall in Oakland.

The problem was he hit the ball so hard it bounce right back to right fielder David DeJesus, who has a pretty good arm. So, the Marlins third base coach, Joey Espanda gave a huge stop sign to the speedy shortstop. Undaunted, DeJesus uncorked a massive throw that went wild, so Hanley boogied home for the first run of the game.

Meaning he did score from second on a double. However, the run counted as unearned, with no RBI, because Hanley had stopped, and ultimately he scored on the errrant throw.

Or an inning later, when a double steal was employed by Florida, when Emilio Bonifacio walked, and then rumbled to third on a single by Omar Infante. There were no outs, but, with a 3-2 count on Gaby Sanchez, Bonifacio bolted for the plate while Infante took off for second.

The problem was Sanchez took ball four, while Bonifacio got picked off third base, creating an out that started the ruin of what had been a promising inning, for Ramirez, the next batter, hit into a double play. End of inning. No runs, when the Fish almost had the bases juiced with none out.

Strange.

Last Sunday, when the Giants and the Indians mixed it up, Bill Hall walked to start the fourth inning, and then stole second on the second pitch. Lou Marson then threw wild into center field, and Hall keeps going arriving safely at third.

Chris Stewart--who is very tall for a catcher in case you had not noticed, at 6'4"--grounded sharply to third. But, Madison Bumgarner missed a squeeze sign, and suddenly Hall was bolting for the plate while Marson had the ball. A quick 2-5 throw later, Hall was toast.

Two pitches later Bumgarner hit a harmless fly to Grady Sizemore that was perfect in all ways, save it popped right out of the center fielder's glove, putting the Giants pitcher on first, but unfortunately without the benefit of the run Hall would have added had he not been thrown out a couple of pitches earlier.

Again, strange.

There have been other strange ones this year, but ultimately nothing beats a few years back when late in a Giants game, Bengie Molina belted a ball off the top of the wall at ATT, hitting the ball so hard the slow moving catcher could only make it to first base. It being a close game, Bruce Bochy put Emmanuel Burris in to run for Molina, but in the meantime the ball Bengie hit came into the dugout.

Bochy got it before the next pitch,  noticed green on the ball--which meant oxydation from the copper atop the right field wall--and quickly called time, showing the umpires.

The jurists held a quorom, and viewed the replay, and sure enough, it was determined the ball was a homer.

The problem was Bengie left the field, and the rules do not allow for a player to return to the field once they have left and been replaced. So, Bengie got a homer, and he got an RBI, but Burriss got the run scored.

Even stranger, although to be fair, that one was not this year, no that this season has not been a cornucopia of goofy plays, as noted.

That is, to me, one of the beauties of baseball, however. For, on any given day, you truly can see just about anything.

Anyone want to bet that the NFL lockout/labor dispute comes to an end in the next couple of weeks?

"Why?" you might ask, while accusing me of willful optimism.

Because, we are coming to the point where training camps open, in early July, and as greedy as the owners are--with the players not that far behind--there is simply too much money at stake in this whole stack of riches we know as the NFL, that I simply don't believe either the owners or players are stupid enough to risk, let alone waste that.

How much money?

How about $400 million a week in gate receipts? That breaks down $161 million per city over the season, and $4.9 billion of the total of $11 billion football generates each year.

Those figures are according to the good folks at NFLlockout.com.

But, to coin the phrase of the Reagan Administration, this trickles down a lot further, the site also notes that lack of play impacts "individual cities, small businesses, stadium workers, staff, local hotels, restaurants, seasonal jobs, taxpayers and more—in short, anyone associated with the game. In addition, many industries depend on the NFL season such as sports betting, sports bars, food industries, video games and fantasy football. These are some of the businesses that will be the hardest hit if the lockout interrupts the 2011 season."

And, if you are wondering how, as taxpayers individuals like us might also have a play or say, note that 3,000 jobs could be lost in each NFL city if the lockout continues? How about that 28 of the 31 NFL stadiums were built thanks to public funding, and 11 of them were 100 percent publicly funded?

Of, to put at an even more visceral level, Buffalo Wild Wings, the chain that has a million TV screens in each of their restaurants allowing one to watch any game live--plus NASCAR--on Sundays has started a petition to appeal to the participants and understand that impact on their business. How you might wonder?

Well, last Super Bowl Sunday we consumed 1.25 billion wings, worth around $250 million, and so far Buffalo Wild Wings has 17,000 people who signed their initiative.

That is a lot of wings and a lot of money.

But, I think if the talking heads of the NFL and Players Union--meaning NFLPA Executive Director DeMaurice Smith and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell--are not paying attention, there is a lot of concern in the country about unemployment and debt ceilings and revenues.

Now, I understand that not raising the debt ceiling is not something to play chicken with, and not raising it would be catastrophic. As in to start, it means the government would welsh on all those Social Security checks, and think about how angry that would make a lot of people, and that is just a one aspect of the problem.

Well, I do understand that, but I don't think most Americans do. Nor do they want to. I think most people simply want their politicians to take care of things for them so that individuals can actually handle things like families and those recently elusive jobs.

But, how those rich mothers who own the NFL teams, or play on them, cannot figure out how to divide the spoils of $11 billion is something they can understand.

And, if Joe Citizen cannot understand that their tax revenues do pay for roads and fireman and police making sure our food does not have ecoli and hospital care and a lot of things.

But, those same folks know they pay the salaries of the NFL players, and help make the owners even richer.

They know when the watch a game, some of the money they pay for cable goes to the NFL. They know their dollars go to the league when they buy a ticket to see the Niners, and they know a chunk of it goes to the league and players when they buy a Troy Polamalu jersey, and when they tuck their kids in under a Packers comforter.

Remember back in 1994 when baseball screwed itself, and more its fans, and it took Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire and several years for fans to begin returning?

I don't think the NFL wants to go there, for as much as people love their football in this country, if they get used to some time without it, well, they might just be angry enough to not want to make up for a while. Because, if people are angry about an economy that failed them, they will be really mad that the game they loved similarly betrayed them.

Last Tuesday KFFL published my Tumbling Dice column, The Times They Are a Changin' (Indeed). In that piece I commented on the Scoresheet Mock Draft that Brian DewBerry-Jones runs in December each year.

One of the things that always has puzzled me during my three years as a participant in the Mock was what seemed to be the strange draft habits and player valuations what appeared to be a vague format.

When the piece went up, I sent a note to the league with the link, thinking they would get a kick out of it.

Well, two "mockticipants," Bill Sanders and John Mayne took issue with a number of things I suggested, and being Scoresheet players that they are, they proceeded to explain in somewhat precise detail what the real facts were.

So, to set the record straight, I did goof when I stated the draft was 14 rounds (it is actually 16). Further, there is an actual standard number of picks that in the mock could ostensibly have been frozen perennially with 13. Until the other day, I had not heard that number before, although in fairness, there was always reference to "standard Scoresheet rules." And, per Scoresheet founder Jeff Barton, 13 is the number, with an unlimited number of Minor Leaguers (however for each such prospect frozen, the owner loses a pick off the end of the draft).

Finally, though I referred to the good Mr. DewBerry Jones as both a curator, and again administrator, both John and Bill said I suggested that the Mock affair is chaotic and nebulous. Now, I looked at my prose a couple of times, and I still don't see that, but, if Brian was offended, that was the last of my intentions, believe me. In fact I sort of thought those words I chose--curator and administrator--actually suggest some sophistication in logistics.

The real essence though, was wondering about the strategies that some participants employ in the draft. For example, I cannot see much purpose in drafting Bryce Harper as the fifth pick of the third round of a 22-team snake, simply because that is a bad strategy for pretty much any format. Not that Harper might not be a star, and even by 2013. But, I would not count on it before, and I would guess his arrival might be more like that of Jay Bruce statistically than Albert Pujols. Again, not that Harper might not be very good, but the odds simply point to more guys being like Bruce than Albert.

And, in the meantime, there were a lot of very good Major League players who ideally might be of help this year, and next, and in 2013 when Harper might arrive, and even on for a year or so longer as Harper establishes himself and becomes a solid everyday player, and maybe even a star. Maybe.

In his note, Bill acknowledged that I preferred to draft for this year, which was fine, but that "Some of us prefer to draft a core that we expect to return the maximum Scoresheet value over a 3-, 5-, or even 10-year window. Our strategies are perfectly valid, as well."

Well, true enough. Almost.

I can even see building a team focused on next year. For this year's mock that might have included Brandon Belt and Dustin Ackley and Carlos Santana and maybe Jason Heyward as core players, and two or three years out, such a team could indeed be competitive.

But, anyone trying to speculate beyond a couple of years is just plain silly, and doomed to failure.

I mean this year Kemp looks like a total freeze, but did he to end 2010? Did Braun, or were most fantasy owners irritated with him as I was with Lind following disappointing 2010 totals (in the Murphy League I dumped Lind)?

Not to mention there is now a new crop of June draft picks to salivate and speculate over, and there will be another group next year, and so on, and personally, that combination of building for the future results in just that, always. In other words, never contending this year as one's eye is never on it.

As another example, I can use the MWStrat League, of which I have written a number of times.

The MWStrat League is a 30-team format with American and National Leagues. Since Strat is based upon the previous season, this year we are playing out last year's numbers.

Last year, sensing that I did not have the depth to go all the way, I swapped for two first round picks in the February 2011 free agent draft. And, while we can freeze up to 29 players per team, forever, teams change and expand via that draft wherein the rookie crop from the year before are up for grabs.

So, this year the class that included Heyward, Buster Posey, Carlos Santana, and their mates were among the draft prizes.

By planning as I did, I plucked Ike Davis, Jhoulys Chacin, and Jose Tabata, and with my existing core of Shane Victorino, Ryan Zimmerman, Ubaldo Jiminez, and Hanley Ramirez, I do indeed have one of the best teams in the league this year, and seem to be playoff bound.

So, in addition to thinking about trading next year's picks to help cement a win this year, because my main players are struggling, or injured, or both this year, 2012 looks like it might be a lost cause right now anyway.

Which means I need to keep an eye on the 2012 draft, and what might help set me up for success then. But, just who might even be available then, or what I might need are things that would take more vision and clarity than the crystal the Wicked Witch of the West uses in The Wizard of Oz. 

There is something fun and wonderfully crazy going on at ATT Park these days.

Actually, I think the roots go back four years to the arrival of the Giants' great right-hander, Tim Lincecum, for once The Freak established himself, he drew a sell out crowd every time he pitched. And, with Timmy's success, the crowd became more and more enchanted to the tune that like real baseball fans, they would stand when their pitcher had two strikes on a hitter, and especially when there were two strikes and two outs.

Then, last year, the Giants came seemingly out of nowhere to make the playoffs, and then the Series, and then they actually won.

I worked the Giants' final home game last year, which also happened to be both the second game of the World Series and my 58th birthday. As I walked back to the subway and wended my way home, it was truly amazing, for all the streets around the ball yard had been roped off, and fans and hangers on were running back and forth across the road, hugging and slapping one another on the back and high fiving.

It was different. And, it kicked up the community spirit of the Bay Area in a way that has not happened since back in the 80's when the Niners were the toast of the town.

I have to say, though, that even though the Niners were indeed loved, the devotion they received was nothing like that which the Giants are currently the beneficiaries of.

It seemed to start again this year at spring training, for as I previously noted, I was at the first spring game in which closer Brian Wilson appeared, and all he had to do was walk across the field to the hill from right field, and he got a standing ovation.

So it continues, for the Giants have sold out every game this year, not to mention having 7,200 more season ticket holders than in 2010.

And, those fans are just crazy mad in love with their team in a way I have never seen in the Bay Area. Which is saying quite a lot considering the Athletics won three straight world titles in a row in the 70's, and appeared in the Series three more years in a row in the 80's, a record that should make the cross bay Giants blush in comparison.

But never have I seen the Oakland fans display 50% of the enthusiasm of the ATT loyals.

The fans arrive early, for just a year ago, I could get to the park an hour before first pitch and find street parking three or four blocks away from the yard. Or, if need be, I could park in a pay lot for $10. Well, now all the street parking is way gone an hour before game time, and now the parking lots cost $15 (such the cost of success).

Not to mention the fans stay for the entire game. Not to mention that seems to make the fans the tenth player.

Over the last two weeks, I have now worked five games for the Giants, all of which were packed to the rafters, with standing room in right field being jammed.

For all five games, the Giants trailed or were tied after the seventh inning, including the now infamous Buster Posey injury game when the San Franciscans scored four runs with two outs in the bottom of the ninth to tie and push the contest into extra frames.

Two other times the Giants came from behind to score and tie in the eighth, and both those games also went into extra innings, with San Francisco winning both.

The other two the Giants simply won in the bottom of the ninth, breaking a tie with a walkoff hit (last night it was Nate Schierholtz who did the deed).

And, each time, the crowd has gotten more vocal and enthusiastic, and each time the team has risen, it seems, more to the occasion.

Again, I have never before witnessed something like this at a sporting event, or even a musical concert, for usually those of us in northern California are cooler than to display wild craziness in support of the local nine.

Well, we were until now. And, now it is simply a blast to be at the yard, no matter what the outcome. 

As I have written so many times, back in 1977, I started playing Strat-O-Matic.  As a youngster, I played Cadaco, and then conjured games my brother and I concocted. The, in the mid-70’s, I played some APBA, but then in ’77 I got Strat-O-Matic as a gift, and never looked back.

Well, that was for eleven years, and then I got hooked on Rotisserie Baseball, and well, you know most of the rest. If you have been reading me for as long as I have been writing, you probably already did.

Well, when my handful of friends and I arranged our first league, we had six players, so rather than an open draft of all stars, we decided to each pick a team. Then from the remaining players/teams, we each got to pick first one player. After a couple of years, we modified to one hitter and pitcher each.

And, then we played our season out.

Well, for many years, my team was the Kansas City Royals. These were the days of a young George Brett and Hal McRae and Al Cowens and Al Hrabosky. Also were Frank White and Dennis Leonard, and eventually Dan Quisenberry and Willie Wilson.

It made me a huge Royals fan. In fact, I so vividly remember the summer of 1980. My then partner Ava and I were on a car camping trip around the Southwest, going to Bryce and Zion and the Grand Canyon.

And, I will never forget being at a Laundromat at the Grand Canyon, sitting in the car between rinse and spin cycles, listening to (I think) KOMA on the car radio, the Royals flagship station. I think they were playing the Brewers, who were still in the American League at the time, and Brett had a shot to hit over the .400 mark.

Well, each year, right there in my stack of cards was Mr. Dependability, Paul Splittorff, the steady, if unexciting left-hander for the Royals.

When I say steady, between 1972 and 1980, Split did not throw less than 204 innings, save in 1975-76 when it was 159 and 158 2/3, respectively.  Over his 15 seasons—all spent in Kansas City—Split averaged 14-12, 3.81 numbers, over an averaged 211 innings.

Split was not a big strikeout guy, with just 1,057 over 2,544 2/3 major league innings, and though his control was good (780 walks), he could be hit (2,664 hits).

I guess today Split would comparable to Mark Buerhle: not the first guy you might want on your fantasy roster, but a more than acceptable No. 5 starter in an AL format, and a decent No. 6 in a mixed league.

But, in Strat-O-Matic, where the rotation and everyday players was everything, steady Paul Splittorff was a great thing, as were those average innings and starts. In fact, in those days, one of the things that maybe the Royals a good core team was that they had solid starting pitching, with Split, and Leonard, and Larry Gura as a core troika.

Add in a free agent pitcher, and occasional fifth starts by Marty Pattin, and bang, the arms were set.

While Split was a sort of solid, if unspectacular, performer over those years, every once in a while he would put up a terrific season, like in 1978, when he went 19-14, 3.40, over 262 innings, with a deadly 1.16 WHIP.

That year I managed to cop Ron Guidry as my pitcher pick, and with Split, Leonard, and Gura, won my first Strat home league title (I finished with the best record, but did get beaten in the World Series, within the playoff structure we devised).

It took me a while before I stopped taking Split for granted, and eventually the league did indeed migrate elsewhere. But, as I have said so many times, playing that game in those days taught me all about OBP and WHIP and set the tone for everything I look at now.

Not to mention the experience turned me into a Royals fan for a number of years, such that I still have a soft spot, and am happy about the team’s resurgence.

Splittorff went on to become a radio presence in baseball, and had a reputation for being just one of the nicest guys you could meet (with the passing of Harmon Killebrew recently, times are tough on good-guy baseball players).

In a time of huge contracts and superstar players and behavior, it is nice to remember there are guys like Split and the Killer who also play, going about their jobs in a businesslike fashion, and, as they say, play the game the way it is supposed to be played.

Splittorff passed away last week, just before the holiday weekend, almost as under the radar as he went about his career.  As it seems with so many players these days, thank you Paul for showing us how a professional does his job.

And, thank you for helping learn to understand the game that much more.

I know all of you have had one of those weeks. You know, one of those spreads when nothing seems to go right. When everything feels like it is out of sync, and nothing seems to fit right?

Worse, not anything epic is misfiring. It is more like leaving the water running in the sink so it overflows because someone called in the other room, and you got distracted. Or, while scoring a game, forgetting to substitute Joey Devine for Brad Ziegler for an inning, and then when you get home, realizing the dogs got into the kibble bin and gorged themselves.

Actually, I had a couple of bad goofs during the three games I worked this week, and while it was just one thing each game, and not the end of the world, these mistakes, like the Devine error, which actually happened, haunt me. For though I have had little bumpy times like this from time-to-time during my life, not so much over the last ten years (when something has happened to or around me over that spell, it is indeed something tumultuous and grandiose.)

Of course, luck is subjective.

For example, I actually did work the Giants game on Wednesday, when the San Franciscans amazingly rallied for four runs, with two outs in the bottom of the ninth, including rocking Leo Nunez for his first blown save after 18 consecutive successful conversions.

By the time the tying run scored, a chunk of the usually boisterous and loyal Giants fans had left disillusioned. Well, the remaining 25,000 or so did kick the screaming back up until Scott Cousins scored his now infamous 12th inning run, knocking poor Buster Posey out of the game for the evening, and following two months.

That play knocked the sails out of everything, as the crowd hushed, and in the bottom of the inning the Giants bats were silenced 1-2-3 by no less than Burke Badenhop. (This does illustrate that subjectivity, as the Giants bad luck proved to be good luck for the Marlins.)

But, that sort of illustrates how strange life and those bumps can be. Would the Giants have been better off not scoring those four runs, and as a result, have their catcher in one piece?

Since they lost the game anyway, in hindsight the answer might seem to be "yes," but in the moment, pushing the game into extra innings  was a terrific thing that woke everyone--including the Giants sticks, which had been deadly quiet--in a great way.

But again, I doubt the Giants regret scoring the runs, for though they will miss Posey, this gives them a chance to see if they really have a team that can deal. For, whether we like it or not, it is indeed those challenges that push us forward, and I feel confident that if the San Franciscans can keep pace that will make them all the better when their backstop returns.

But, blocking the plate is Buster's job, and he was trying to help his team win. Just like Josh Hamilton when he broke his arm.

In fact, I can use the Giants as my role model here, for while I was working the Athletics game last night, Brandon Crawford, the Giants rookie shortstop who a day earlier had been toiling at Class-A San Jose at age 24, whacked a grand slam off Shaun Marcum. Suddenly, San Fransciso, which had been trailing 3-1, and unable to do anything against Marcum, were ahead. And suddenly, Tim Lincecum, who was 4-4, with a 2.05 ERA going into the game--suggesting he had been pitching under hard luck--got a lead, and wound up with a win.

It is precisely that kind of inexplicable strangeness that makes baseball so fun and fascinating. As well as such a metaphor for life, for just like life, things seem they should go a certain way. And, sometimes they do, but just as often, things progress and wind up in a fashion that simply makes us scratch our heads trying to figure out just what exactly happened.

So, like the Giants, I guess I just have to hang in there and ride the bumps. After all, I am just a grand slam away from things falling back into place.