By Yours Truly
http://throneberryfields.com/2016/12/22/2016-the-most-unheard-of-things/Somewhere at the height of the –ism bearing his name, Sen. Joseph McCarthy declared something was the most unheard-of
thing anyone had ever heard of. Like the presidential election in which the people’s choices were between a crank and a crook,
baseball in 2016 was much like that. In spring, Manny Machado won Best of Breed at the Westminster Dog Show. (Relax, Oriole
fans: it was a Mexican hairless whose owner named the pooch after the third baseman.) At November’s beginning, the Chicago
Cubs (read it and savour deeper, Cub Country)
returned to the Promised Land—ending their 108-year rebuilding effort—at the
expense of the Cleveland Indians.
That was then: The Cubs started too many seasons (decades?) with puckish, fatalistic fans whipping up placards as the first pitch
was thrown saying, “Wait ‘till next year!” This is now: This year was next year. The Cubs survived a 3-1 Series deficit to overthrow
a no-quit Indians team. Both teams took the Series to the absolute end of Game Seven—abetted by a surrealistic rain delay between
the ninth and tenth innings—despite their otherwise clever, intelligent, but occasionally overmanaging managers. Only one of them
left spring training under predictions of going all the way to the Promised Land. Hint: it wasn’t the Indians. (That was then: As the
late Mike Royko once conjugated, the team with the most ex-Cubs usually lost. This was now:
The team with the most and best ex-
Red Sox won.)
Baseball Prospectus picked last year’s World Series opponents to finish the opposite, calling the Mets likely National League East
champions and
the Royals likely American League basement dwellers. That’ll teach them. The Mets fought an injury epidemic to
claim the first of two National League wild cards, only to lose when a no-name Giant named Conor Gillaspie smashed
a ninth-inning
three-run homer, enabling Madison (
Don’t Look at Me!) Bumgarner to become his own closer after a season in which the Giants’
bullpen blew thirty saves including nine in which the team led after eight innings—five of those in September.
But there went the Giants’ reputed even-year magic. The only shock in the Giants losing the division series to the Cubs, after they’d
looked like baseball’s best team going into the All-Star break but one of its worst after, was that it took four games to do it. Clayton
Kershaw did the impossible in the Dodgers’ division series—he earned the save
in the clinching kitchen-sink game against the
Nationals, who went from running away with the NL East to yet another early winter vacation. (The Elias Sports Bureau noted Kershaw
was the only Dodger not named Kenley Jansen to record a save all year long.) Then,
he beat the Cubs in Game Two of the League
Championship Series
but couldn’t force a Game Seven after the Cubs—who’d been surviving with a sudden rash of late-game battering–
battered him for five runs in five innings when his curve ball resigned its commission and the Cubs sat on his fastballs with cocktails
and
hors d’oeuvres in hand.
All of a sudden this postseason, managers discovered what men like Bucky Harris (with Firpo Marberry, 1924 Senators) and Casey
Stengel (with Joe Page, 1949 Yankees) knew long before they were born: there come times when you need a stopper like five minutes
ago, never mind his official job description. Thus did men like Andrew Miller (Indians) become postseason stars, Aroldis Chapman
become damn near postseason burnouts, and Buck Showalter (Orioles manager) become postseason goats. Miller was brought in
when needed, not when his job description told him he "should" be in. So was Chapman. By Game Seven, of the Series both men were
gassed and very vulnerable. Showalter, found in an American League wild card game situation where he needed a stopper like right
now, not with a lead to protect, couldn't find Zach Britton, his absolute best pitcher in any job, and left Ubaldo Jimenez (normally a
starter) in to face Edwin Encarnacion —
watching a hanging meatball sail into the second deck of Rogers Centre to send the Blue Jays
forth ... to be manhandled by the Indians.
Kyle Schwarber, who planted one atop the Wrigley Field scoreboard in postseason 2015, then smashed a homer and a fan's windshield
in spring training batting practice this year, tore up his knee in the season's first week. Gone for the season? Not quite. To everyone's
shock, maybe even his own team's, Schwarber rehabbed well, played some tuneup games in the Arizona Fall League, and showed up
for the World Series. He didn't hit anything into the next counties but he gave the Cubs a spiritual lift and a few timely hits while he
was at it. Yoenis Cespedes re-signed with the Mets, came to spring training with a vehicle fleet any transportation company would have
envied, fought through a couple of injuries to have a splendid 2016, then re-signed with the Mets for four more years. Adam LaRoche
retired in spring rather than let the White Sox front office dictate how often his son could join him in the clubhouse. Chris Sale performed
open-box surgery on ugly White Sox throwback uniforms mid-season, then was traded to the Red Sox in a winter meetings blockbuster
with the White Sox going into full rebuild. Goose Gossage (
birdius dinosaurus), one-time White Sox and Hall of Famer, decided
Bryce Harper — incumbent second-best all-around player in baseball (before a shoulder issue compromised his 2016 performance) —
had no business deciding that baseball needed to be made fun again.
Mark Melancon signed
a record deal for closers with the Giants during the winter meetings. The Royals
traded Wade Davis to the Cubs,
ensuring the end of the Royals' once-vaunted H-D-H bullpen. Melancon's record lasted long enough for Aroldis Chapman, acquired by
the Cubs from the Yankees at mid-season, pitching heroically in the World Series,
to break it when he signed as a free agent with . . .
the Yankees from whence he'd come. For less dollars than offered elsewhere. Then, he
complained about manager Joe Maddon's usage
of him in the final three Series games,
a little over a month after the rest of us wondered about the same. After the winter meetings,
Kenley Jansen gave himself a wedding present: he rejoined the Dodgers for five years and less dollars than at least two or three other
teams offered. And the team with the most and best ex-Red Sox who won the World Series
signed another one: Koji Uehara, relief pitcher,
the last man standing when the Red Sox won a third World Series in a) one decade, and b) this century. Already you have to like the
Cubs' chances next year.
The shortstop the Rangers once signed for the equivalent of developing a badly-needed pitching staff decided to retire after 2017; the
Yankees convinced him to do so before the final third of 2016 — as former teammate Ichiro Suzuki smacked his 3,000th major league
hit. In between,
Alex Rodriguez and humility became close friends. Trevor Story (Rockies) opened the season becoming the first National
Leaguer and the only rook in baseball history to hit his first two major league bombs on Opening Day. He also hit 7 in his first six games
and 10 in April, the former setting another rookie record and the latter tying a Show record. On the same day, the Rangers beat the
Mariners 3-2, despite Felix Hernandez and the Mariners one-hitting the Rangers on the day. Prince Fielder's second surgery for a herniated
neck disc
meant career over.
The daughter of Hall of Famer Don Drysdale (from his first marriage)
objected to his widow selling his memorabilia without offering a
chance at least at her father's 1962 Cy Young Award. Mike Piazza, incoming Hall of Famer, objected to a collector selling the jersey he
wore to hit a dramatic home run in the first New York home game after 9/11. Chapman and Jose Reyes were suspended over domestic
violence cases to open the season despite their wives/partners refusing to press charges; Hector Olivera, Braves pitcher, was docked 82
games over an incident with a female acquaintance. Jeurys Familia, Mets closer, victim of Gillaspie's 11th-hour wild card bomb, faced a
possible suspension to open 2017 despite his wife refusing to press domestic violence charges against him over a late October incident.
Bud Selig was elected to the Hall of Fame by the Today's Game Committee, who seemed not all that troubled by the fact that Selig in
essence thought and behaved as though he was
saving the game by damn near breaking it in half and half again.
Matt Bush — former number one draft pick, imprisoned shy of three years over running a motorcyclist down in a car he drove while drunk
— made it back to the Show the hard way. Then, after impressing as a Rangers relief pitcher, Bush got himself in the middle of a nasty
brawl between the Rangers and the Blue Jays in May: he drilled Jays star Jose Bautista, about whose division series bat flip the previous
October the Rangers still steamed, prompting Bautista to exact payback with a takeout slide against Rangers infielder Rougned Odor —
who threw on to first as if trying to hit Bautista, then gave Bautista a nasty shove before punching Bautista in the face. Making it worse:
the Rangers had waited until the final regular-season game against the Jays to send Bautista the, ahem, message. Guess who ended up
with the last laugh? The Jays went to the American League Championship Series
after Odor threw a short-hop double play ball to Mitch
Moreland at first, Moreland unable to get batter Russell Martin, then unable to throw in time to stop the division series-winning Jays run
(Josh Donaldson, if you're scoring at home) from scoring. That was what you call Odorous karma.
The problem was, after the Jays' elimination, that Bautista had trouble finding new employment as a free agent. Dan Duquette, Orioles
general manager:
the Orioles wouldn't sign him because their fans despise him. Bartolo Colon, Mets pitcher
since signed with the Braves
as a free agent, became the oldest man in baseball history to hit his first major league home run. Noah Syndergaard, another Mets pitcher,
beat the Dodgers one fine day on the mound and at the plate: his 2 homers accounted for all the Mets' scoring. Jaret Edward, a Cleveland
area high school pitcher, struck out every hitter he faced (15) in a regional playoff game shortened to five innings by the mercy rule. The
Braves showed no mercy to Fredi Gonzalez, making him
the first manager thrown out for the season. Robin Ventura showed mercy to the
White Sox, resigning at season's end; as a not-that-terrible manager he was an excellent third baseman.
The owners and the players signed off
on a new five-year collective bargaining agreement that ends World Series home field advantage
according to the All-Star Game result (good); the 15-day disabled list now the 10-day disabled list (jury out); the all-stars chosen by the
manager now to be chosen by the commissioner's office (dubious at best); market-disqualified clubs (those who won't get revenue sharing
because of actual or alleged large markets) reduced with the Athletics phasing out over four years (bad news for the A's, who could use less
such news); hiked competitive balance tax thresholds (20 percent for first timers, 30 for second, 50 for third or more — depends on how
you look at it); teams $40 million plus past the threshold having their highest draft picks moved 10 spots back (depends on how you look
at it, again); 10 days for players to accept qualifying offers and no second one the year after he got the first (not bad); smaller market
teams surrender third highest draft picks and larger market teams their second and fifth highest picks to sign players who declined
qualifying offers (beats the former first-round pick surrender); the minimum major league salary now to $535,000 a season (reasonable);
a plan to play games in Mexico, Asia, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and London over the coming five years on behalf of "growing"
the game (wait and see); random drug tests hiked to 4,800 a season, all players subject in the offseason (sound as a nut); a smokeless
tobacco ban (no complaint); cutting the period of designation for assignment to seven days (no argument); and, an agreement to forge
anti-hazing/anti-bullying policies. (What took them so long?)
The
lone vote against ratifying the CBA: Rays owner Stuart Steinberg. Meanwhile, at about the same time, baseball government produced
an anti-hazing/anti-bullying policy — including a ban on male players dressing as women on the teams' annual rookie dress-up day rite.
Angels relief pitcher Huston (Sparks Fly on E) Street
was not amused. Pablo Sandoval's bid to come back from his first horrendous Red
Sox season ended early with shoulder surgery — after an embarrassing moment in which his belt snapped on national television. During
the winter meetings, he was seen after having undergone a tremendous weight loss.
From Kung Fu Panda to Kung Fu Panther? Wait till
next year.
Kershaw missed almost a third of the season with back issues. The Indians made it to the end of the World Series despite losing three key
men (Michael Brantley, Carlos Carrasco, Danny Salazar). Mark Teixiera announced his pending retirement and the Yankees unexpectedly
went from the Bronx Geezers near the All-Star Break to the Bronx Burners down the stretch with an influx of fresh young blood, some of
which came from the Indians in the Andrew Miller deal. Blue Jays outfielder Dalton Pompey spent his December birthday walking around
Toronto
handing gift cards to the needy. Trevor (Dem Drones) Bauer sliced a pinkie working on one of his remote control drones (a hobby)
during the post season and got sliced and diced by the Blue Jays (in the American League Championship Series) and the Cubs (in the
World Series).
The Angels had the American League's Most Valuable Player, Mike Trout (his second such award), showing the voting writers didn't hold
it against Trout that his team cratered. Cubs super-sophomore Kris Bryant had the National League MVP sewn up before he shone in the
postseason. Rick Porcello won the American League Cy Young Award on his pitching wins alone; Justin Verlander was actually the league's
best pitcher in his big bounce-back year. Max Scherzer, the National League's winner, had a better year than Porcello and was a better
pitcher — but he wasn't actually as good as Kershaw or Syndergaard, even though he had a 20-punchout game to polish his apple.
Baseball has better chances surviving the (read it and don't weep, Cub Country) world champion Cubs than the nation has surviving
President-to-be Trump. One of whose supporters, Curt Schilling, got into hot water twice for shooting from the lip. In April, ESPN fired
Schilling as an analyst
over his public objection to North Carolina's law barring transgenders from using the bathrooms marked for their
new genders. In November, Schilling offended even non-writers, and even those customarily critical of the media (
When you like us,
we're the press; when you hate us, we're the media—the late William Safire), when he tweeted
apparent approval of a T-shirt saying
"Rope. Tree. Journalist. Some assembly required." Schilling pled sarcasm. Not all demurring from voting the should-be Hall of Famer to
Cooperstown this time pled likewise, but plenty seemed to lean on Voltaire,
despising what he said but defending his right to say it.
Barry Bonds, working as a Marlins hitting instructor (the team let him go after the season), made an unprovoked
apology for having
been "straight stupid" about having been surly and uncooperative during his playing career from college to his final days with the
Giants. Adam Jones, Oriole, saw NFL quarterback Colin Kapaernick's knee protest against actual or reputed race inequality during
the National Anthem and
thought it couldn't happen in baseball because it was too much of a white man's sport. You suspected few
saw through the surface to see that baseball's allure for black athletes today isn't close to what it was in the 1950s, 1960s, and
1970s. Then, when the Cardinals signed Dexter Fowler (one of the world champion Cubs, become a free agent), they suggested
one reason for the signing was a hope he could help them improve their standing among black people and help begin re-inspiring
young black athletes to think about playing baseball.
Vin Scully finally retired and left the nation emptier for his pending absence. (
We tried to warn him.) He was sent off with assorted
baseball personnel paying him homage on his home turf and the White House paying him homage with the Presidential Medal of
Freedom. Hall of Famer Rod Carew
underwent a heart and kidney transplant and was expected (thankfully) to make a full recovery.
David Ortiz took his farewell tour, accepted some remarkable and some amusing parting gifts (the Orioles sent him the clubhouse
phone he once smashed in frustration), and led the American League in runs batted in, OPS, and slugging. He also hit 48 home runs
while he was at it. It all took a toll as he couldn't hit worth a lick in the Red Sox's
division series loss to the Indians, yet just about
everyone in Red Sox Nation and beyond wished he could stay one more year. But his body resigned its commission at last. His body,
but not the memories.
RIP . . .Big Papi at least has the rest of his life to live at 40, and Vin Scully isn’t likely to go into that good grey night anytime soon despite his
retirement. But lives on earth, alas, finish in due course, even in and around baseball, even in 2016. Few were
as exemplary as Monte
Irvin (96)—Negro Leagues star, should-have-been New York Giants fixture (an ankle injury and other ailments curtailed him after eight
major league seasons), a Hall of Famer when all was said and done, and eventual commissioner’s aide for what seemed a century. Luis
Arroyo (88) was the bullpen stopper for the 1960 Yankees’ pennant winner. Frank Sullivan (85) was a two-time All Star who led the
American League in wins for the Red Sox in 1955, with eighteen. Red Moore (99) was part of the Million Dollar Infield—for the Newark
Eagles in the Negro National League. (His fellow Million Dollars—Ray Dandridge and Willie Wells—are Hall of Famers.)
Kerry Dineen (63) was so short-lived a 1975 and 1976 Yankee you almost could have missed him, except for who ultimately claimed his
uniform number (49) when he was sent down for keeps—Ron Guidry. Ron Stillwell (76) was an even shorter-lived Washington Senator—
playing fourteen games in 1961 and 1962, but siring eventual 1990s major league infielder Kurt Stillwell. Alex P. Hendry was an Onandaga
(NY) Community College baseball player found dead in subzero temperatures two days after he was seen leaving a campus party. At 19.
Bob Martyn (85), outfielder, was the first Linfield College (Oregon) alumnus to make the majors: he was a 1950s Yankee product swapped
to the Kansas City Athletics (in the deal that made a Yankee out of relief star Ryne Duren), played parts of three seasons with the A’s—and
managed to graduate
cum laude in math and sociology, earn a master’s in education, make a long career at Tektronix (the electronics
testing and measurement outfit), and found a human resources consultancy service.
Clyde Mashore (70) had a cup of coffee with the Reds, four seasons with the Montreal Expos, picked up his first major league hit, run,
and run batted in in the same swing (swatting a home run off Ray Sadecki, then with the Mets, in the second inning of a 1970 game), and
fathered two minor league hitting coaches. (One, Damon, led American League center fielders in assists in 1997.) Tony Phillips (56) was a
shortstop gazelle and (with the Angels of the Disney-owned mid-1990s) an object lesson in how not to resolve a drug issue. Jim Davenport
(82) was a diminutive but effective defensive shortstop and third baseman and a bona-fide original San Francisco Giant—his Show debut
was 1958, the team’s first season by the Bay, and he was the first San Francisco batter . . . striking out against Don Drysdale—who became
a Giant lifer as a coach, scout, ill-fated (for one season) manager, and minor league instructor.
Jim Hickman (79) was an Original Met, the first to hit a grand slam in a Met uniform, and an eventual Cub whose lone All-Star Game (1970)
inadvertently provoked disaster—it was on his base hit up the middle that Pete Rose ran all the way home and blasted Ray Fosse at the plate
like a runaway train. Choo Choo Coleman (78) was a fair catch, no-hit catcher for the Original Mets who became a legend when he disappeared
entirely after leaving the game after 1966. (And, for his taciturn nature: asked on television once what his wife’s name was, he replied, “Mrs.
Coleman. And she likes me fine, bub.”) Kevin Collins (69), infielder, debuted at 18 with the 1965 Mets, but while barely able to stay a major
league level player he ultimately went to Montreal with future Expos mound fixture Steve Renko in the deal that made a 1969 Met out of
eventual World Series MVP Donn Clendenon—on the same day Collins had the sad duty of burying his father. Brock Pemberton (62) would
be a brief Met, a decade after Collins, remembered mostly for nearly tearing Cardinal pitcher Sonny Siebert’s head off with a line single in
1974—in the bottom of the 25th inning.
Dick McAuliffe was the Tigers’ regular shortstop of the 1960s—except for moving to second base in 1967, which enabled the 1968 World
Series champions to move outfielder Mickey Stanley to play shortstop and get an extra bat into the Series lineup. The same year, McAuliffe
tied a Show record by never once hitting into a double play—and ended Tommy John’s season in a brawl after John threw in too high and
tight to him. Sammy Ellis (75) went from Cincinnati All-Star starter (1965) to finished on the mound within a few years due to injury issues
—but a respected pitching coach in the years to follow, who knew a top relief pitcher when he saw one in the embryonic stage—Dave Righetti.
Jim Ray Hart (74) swung a big stick (third in home runs in the National League in 1964) and a weak glove for the 1960s Giants. Doug Griffin
(69) was traded from the Angels to the Red Sox for Tony Conigliaro, trying to come back from a frightful beaning by Angel pitcher Jack
Hamilton; Griffin, alas, would be beaned almost similarly by another Angel—Nolan Ryan. Mike Sandlock (100) was a 1940s Boston Brave;
his death leaves Hall of Famer Bobby Doerr (already the oldest living Hall of Famer) as baseball’s oldest living former player.
Spec Richardson (93) once ran the Houston Astros’ front office. (Bo Belinsky’s then-wife, former Playmate of the Year Jo Collins, seduced Richardson
into sending Belinsky to Hawaii when the Astros decided he wasn’t going to last out of their bullpen.)
Milt Pappas (76) was a Baby Bird pitching
phenom for the early 1960s Orioles, the man traded infamously for Frank Robinson (after the Orioles promised him he wouldn’t be traded at
all), a near-perfect game pitcher for the Cubs (when he wasn’t butting heads with manager Leo Durocher), and bore the grief of his first wife’s
disappearance and death in a drowning accident. Joe Garagiola (90) grew up as Yogi Berra’s BFF and
inadvertently helped push Yogi into the
Yankees’ and not the Cardinals’ arms, while Pal Joe played for the Cardinals and a few other clubs, before becoming a kind of erudite Everyman,
flaws and all, as a broadcaster, and the father of a baseball executive.
Boo Ferris (94) made one All-Star team and won a World Series game (1946) for the Red Sox before his career was shortened by injuries and
asthma; he later became a successful NCAA Division II baseball coach. Russ Nixon (81) was a utility catcher traded twice to
the Red Sox in 1960—because, in the first deal, Sammy White elected to retire instead of report to the Indians—and still holds the record for
the most games played without stealing a base. Vern Handrahan (79), one of only three major leaguers yielded up from Prince Edward Island,
and the only one in the 20th Century, had two cups of coffee with the mid-1960s Kansas City Athletics. Dick Adams (96) had a shorter cup
with the 1947 A’s, though a memorable enough one—his first major league hit was a home run. He was also a professional musician. Phil
Hennigan (70) saved fourteen with the 1971 Cleveland Indians and later made a life as a public servant and peace officer in his native Shelby
County, Texas. Baseball and even non-baseball mourned the shocking death of
effervescent and deadly effective Marlins pitcher Jose Fernandez
(24)— learning in due course that he and his party were drunk at minimum and high on cocaine at maximum, but mourning the loss just as
profoundly.
“I lost a ballgame, but gained a friend.”
So said Ralph Branca (90) about Bobby Thomson, the man who hit the Shot Heard ‘Round the World
on Branca’s dime in the 1951 National League pennant playoff. Branca was less than thrilled to discover the Giants used an elaborate sign-
stealing scheme to mount their staggering comeback to force that playoff, but rarely let it soil his golden years. He handled surrendering
baseball’s most famous pennant-losing home run with dignity, good humour, and amiability. Those protesting the most infamous presidential
election in American history could have learned a few things from him.
Quick—name the only law student in history to flunk his tryout for his university’s varsity baseball team and go on to break his country
beginning over a decade later. Answer: Fidel Castro (90),
who never pitched to Don Hoax (er, Hoak), also broke and buried Cuban professional
baseball, died on the threshold of American court trials concerning agents smuggling Cuban baseball players to the U.S. at prices that would
make what’s left of the Mafia envious, and left his country a place millions who didn’t play baseball couldn’t wait to leave. The aforesaid U.S.
presidential election protesters, if they’d been Cubans protesting his Communist nightmare, would have learned something from Castro, too.
Lessons they’d have had to deliver from Cuban prisons—assuming they’d been allowed to live to teach them.
