By Yours Truly
https://throneberryfields.blogspot.com/2018/04/saturday-night-follies.htmlThe Rays and the Marlins, about whom it is said politely that they are rebuilding, occupy their divisions' basements at this writing. The Mets,
to whose original 1962 edition some have the temerity to compare the Rays and the Marlins at this writing, occupy the top level of theirs with
a rather torrid and unexpected season-opening 6-1 record. And Joe West's umpiring crew is at it. Again.
The Mets and the Nationals opened a weekend series with the Mets taking the first two from the lords of the National League East. The first
was an 8-2 spanking of Stephen Strasburg and company; the second, a 3-2 Saturday night win marred before either team put a run on the
scoreboard by home plate umpire Marty Foster.
With two out in the bottom of the third at Nationals Park, Nats third baseman Anthony Rendon took strike three called on Steven Matz's slider
hitting the lower inside corner. Barely. Rendon, who'd stepped out of the hitting circle entirely after the previous pitch, a no-no by the rules,
flipped his bat away in frustration. He never said a word to Foster otherwise.
In a game where assorted Nationals and perhaps a few Mets, too, complained about the umpiring crew giving too many inside strikes on too
many pitches avoiding the inside zone, Foster ejected Rendon post haste. That brought Dave Martinez, the Nats' first-year manager, hustling
out of the dugout, demanding, "Marty, you got some splainin' to do" or words to that effect.
To his credit, Foster let Martinez holler a decent while before giving him the ho-heave. To his discredit, West told reporters after the game
Foster thought Rendon was, quote, showing him up with the stylised but otherwise benign (as these things go) bat toss and had "to do
something, or he loses respect from all the players."
We're not talking a punchout that might have impacted the score, not with none on and two out. We're not talking a punchout with the bases
loaded and nobody out or one out. We're talking a game that was scoreless to that point. Foster could well have taken the higher road, seen
the toss for what it plainly was, a moment's frustration from a player who doesn't have a reputation otherwise for contentiousness.
"They don't get cut," Rendon said of Foster, West, and umpires in general, after the game. "They don't get benched. They don't get sent down
to Triple A, whatever it might be. It's just sad that there's no accountability for them."
Until that moment, it looked like the play of the game might be Nats starting pitcher Gio Gonzalez spearing a line drive right toward his face off
Mets shortstop Amed Rosario's leadoff bat on a full count changeup. It took until the fifth for either team to score, when Nats catcher Pedro
Severino drove home center fielder Michael A. Taylor (aboard on a leadoff infield throwing error) with a base hit, with Mets' catcher Travis d'Arnaud
tying it in the top of the sixth with an RBI single.
Hansel Robles relieved Matz to start the Nats' half of the sixth and Bryce Harper sent a 2-2 fastball away over the left center field fence to lead
off and bust the one-all tie. But he limited the damage to just that and, in the top of the seventh, Asdrubal Cabrera doubled home Rosario and
eventually came home himself on an infield out, making it 3-2, Mets. Where it stayed thanks to another solid round by the Mets' bullpen, providing
the Mets a fourth straight win.
The Nats' frustrations could only have been child's play compared to the Marlins or the Rays, though the Marlins got the worst of it Saturday night
when the Phillies---who may or may not reach this year's postseason, but who have a rather exciting team of youth even if they have a slightly
clumsy manager---broiled and basted them, 20-1, the destruction including grand slams in the first (Maikel Franco) and the third (Aaron Altherr).
Compared to that, the Rays getting thrashed by the Red Sox 10-3 on Saturday night must have seemed like an evening in the hot tub, especially
lacking an umpiring crew like Joe West's to add insults to injuries.
But don't compare either of Florida's fishy entries to the Original Mets. Neither the Rays nor the Marlins have players who make losing seem like
an evening with a battery of Abbott & Costello, an infield of the Four Marx Brothers, an outfield of the Three Stooges, a bullpen of the Harlem
Globetrotters, and a coaching staff of the Mighty Allen Art Players. Neither is managed by Casey Stengel, who'd been in the game a hundred years
but saw new ways to lose he never knew were invented yet.
And both of them have something more in common with West's arbiters: they're about as funny as a mongoose accusing a cobra of date rape.
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