I'm semi-retired from Yahoo! Answers Baseball, but I still check in and answer a few questions. The interesting ones. Not the old ones, the tired ones, the repetitive ones, the trolling ones, the mindless ones, or even the ones begging for a bit of snark. That doesn't leave a lot from which to select.
But now and then a good one pops up, and sometimes I tear off a long answer worth republishing here. Had one this morning, basically the title question above. Here's what I wrote:
Right now he's not, and he's not going to be for quite some time, if ever.
The Hall and its electorates are only just beginning to get a feel, and it's nowhere yet near strong, for what a relief pitcher (and let's be realistic -- a CLOSER; see mention of middle relievers below) needs to do in order to earn the eternal acclaim of the Hall plaque.
Here's the former MLB players elected primarily for their relief pitching, along with their induction year and winning ballot cycle:
Wilhelm -- 1985 (8th)
Fingers -- 1992 (2nd)
Eckersley -- 2004 (1st)
Sutter -- 2006 (13th)
Gossage -- 2008 (9th)
That's it. Relief pitching has been around forever (though only as a speciality, a role that actually had some respect, for about 40 years), and only five relievers have been found worthy. Well, okay -- closing is a tough position that notoriously burns out players, and rapidly. Few survive in the role, even fewer thrive, and the five names above are pretty darn good representatives for being among the very best at what the job demands. Even so, look at the number of ballots it took them -- Fingers held the saves record (such as it was) for a long time, and Eck, with his unusual career (good starter, then great closer), along with an AL CYA and, very rare for a P, MVP, plus his dashing good looks, managed to convince the voters in just one go. The others took their time, their candidacies needed to mellow and mature.
Further note that three of the five have been in the past six voting cycles, and the other two within the past quarter-century. Relief pitching is still an emerging part of the game. Hall voting always lags such things. It's not a trend, exactly, but one can see where notions and norms are beginning, reluctantly, to shift in directions more favorable to relievers.
Looking ahead, Rivera and HOFfman will get their calls in time, but anyone else? Can't say "no" but can say "not likely". Smith has his proponents.
And this brings us, at last, to Franco. He last played in 2005, and so will first qualify for the 2011 ballot. He recorded 424 saves, currently fourth all time, third when he finished playing. He had some great seasons and plenty of good ones. (Not doing anything resembling a detailed statistical treatment here; for relievers, Saves is the first word, and pretty much the final one, too.)
At a glance, Franco's career looks good, but not Hall good -- but remember, the conceptual Hall reliever is still an emerging portrait. Franco isn't Eck good, and he wasn't really contemporary with the other four Hall relievers, so Eck makes the best comp. Eck made headlines, even when serving up Gibson's famous 1988 WS home run. Franco -- well, there's just not that many memorable moments. A PR campaign could only help his cause.
I don't know how the voters will approach Franco. They might love him. I doubt it, and taking the "not Hall worthy" position certainly is the easy and common view (most players don't measure that highly). But relief pitching (closing) is gaining in respect, gaining in Hall consideration, and maybe, just maybe, the voters will give him some ballot love. Not induction on his first ballot, but perhaps that 5% or more to keep him around and keep fans talking about his career. And as the profile of Hall-worthy closers continues emerging, maybe it'll reach a tipping point, and one day Franco really does look All That and wins the 75% supermajority needed. He can only benefit from getting on the ballot with the timing he will -- and if not benefit him directly, his candidacy will help further define what makes a reliever Hall class and thus benefit others farther down the road.
He probably won't get in, no, but he's in better position than a lot of his peers.
Now, a quick note about middle relievers. It's probably 20 years before any one of this breed even begins to sniff the bronze plaque. Closers have the statistical and historical weight of Saves behind them. Middle relievers have nothing (note, Holds are not yet official). Sure, they do their job, but the undercurrent is "okay, but not durable enough to start and not reliable enough to close". Maybe that is the case, but wouldn't we all benefit from being persuaded about that through debate, rather than take it as received wisdom? This past Hall ballot saw first-timer Jesse Orosco, who holds the record for games pitched, bounced with only one vote. One! Now, I am not claiming Orosco is Hall-worthy -- I don't know. But I really did want to see him get 5%, and get it reliably (like Baines, clearing the bar by some single digit of votes each time), in order to keep him around and begin and maintain a discussion of what makes a middle reliever Hall-worthy, or not Hall-worthy. Orosco, with his extremely long career, made for the PERFECT candidate to spark that discussion -- but he's already been pushed aside, and it'll be a decade before another candidate comes along who could stand up for middle relievers. (Dan Plesac, whose career can be described as "Orosco Lite", was also on the 2009 ballot. He received zero votes.)
It'll be at least ten years before another middle reliever Hall candidate comes along to get that discussion going. And so we wait. And wait.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Carson's Big Adventure
Carson is spending an extra week in Mississippi. One just wasn't enough.
I don't remember how it began, but the notion was raised that it might be good for our young man to spend some time with his Aunt Jenny (Val's younger sister) and Uncle Dickie Joe on their cattle ranch in southern Mississippi. Everyone was in favor of this, Carson and Amalie most of all. So, arrangements made, Carson and I set out last Monday, just after Easter, and spent a long, long day on the road. Out of Austin (as always, the very worst part of any road trip is just getting out of this town), across east Texas, through Houston (and not at one of the awful crush hours). We stopped at a Cracker Barrel in Beaumont for a late lunch (he devoured a huge pancake), and pressed on. Orange is the last town in Texas along I-10 heading east, and is just about the halfway point on the journey. We were getting excellent mileage, but had to stop for gas eventually. More than once I offered Carson the chance to run around in a local park, but he refused, saying he wanted to get to Jenny's place -- for which, I could not blame him.
The straightest drive leaves I-10 (which dips southward for New Orleans) for I-12 in Louisiana for about 75 miles, and here we encountered our first real trouble -- a terrible traffic jam. To our good fortune, however, I had been given a Tomtom GPS navigator by my folks for last Christmas, and this was our maiden voyage using it. It did not automatically give directions around the jam (whatever was causing it), but did allow me to search local maps for a likely escape route. We got off the highway (we had stopped -- the jam was that bad -- right at the top of an exit ramp), drove north to the town of Abita Springs, then turned easterly, and eventually picked up I-12 again. Long stretches of rural Louisiana are no doubt lovely, but dang, there is nothing for many miles in that area. (Absolutely dismal service in a franchise of a well-known, national fast food chain did nothing to improve my mood or opinions of this state.)
Carson was holding up well as we finally passed into Mississippi, our journey almost finished, but it had been a long day. Even fortified by a late-morning nap, he was feeling drowsy. I handed him a pillow to prop his head. Finally we left the interstate and headed into the bayous. It was past 10:00 pm, and fogs drifted everywhere. I had a general notion of where to go, but quickly got into unfamiliar terrain. The Tomtom to our rescue again -- I entered in the exact address, followed the directions, and we were there in five minutes. I thought I would have to carry Carson inside, but he perked right up -- partly happy we had arrived, partly because he had new cars that he hadn't been allowed to open until we got there.
Jenny and Dickie Joe had stayed up, well past their usual bedtime, to greet us. Jenny stayed up with Carson for another hour or so, until he opened his new cars and began to settle down. He was bivouaced on a mattress on the floor in the office next to their bedroom, and quickly set up camp. Clothes, cars, other toys were set in handy locations. I headed upstairs, took a familiar bedroom, dressed down and brushed my teeth. I was exhausted from the drive, but in that annoying post-tired, pre-sleep phase where I just cannot drop off right away. I worked on a crossword while Jenny settled in Carson, then popped a movie into the laptop, and that did it -- when I roused a few hours later, the battery had drained, and I couldn't recall seeing more than five minutes of the film. I set it to recharge, checked on Carson (sleeping peacefully), then went back to sleep.
The next day I unloaded Carson's supplies from the car -- a bicycle (I remounted the training wheels), scooter, kid-sized garden tools, and sundry other items. I complied a list to work against when picking him up. He awoke, and I set him up with a bowl of cereal. Jenny was off in the fields, and Dickie Joe in parts unknown. The two of us wandered out to the barn (Carson riding his tricycle, and deliberately passing through puddles). Eventually Dickie Joe returned, hopped on a quad, and rode out to collect Jenny. After we had all assembled, Carson and I said some quick good-byes and a hug -- he had to head off with his aunt and uncle to a real estate closing. I had already packed my few items and was ready to depart for the long drive back home, but I made certain to put Carson into Jenny's arms and care. At her suggestion, I wrote out a note granting her medical authority if needed, tucked it into his passport, and headed out.
Finding I-10 again was easy, with or without the GPS navigator. Many billboards advertised casinos, but I wasn't tempted, I just wanted to get home. I stopped for gas and a late breakfast, then again in Jennings to take a good stretch at the park. Good timing, the alligator exhibit was open -- it is quite small, but the curator knows her stuff about the gators. There are two 14-foot males, one 7-foot female, and a 120-year-old alligator snapping turtle. The gators were basking in some gorgeous springtime sunshine, but the snapper stubbornly stayed at the bottom of a pool; apparently he can stay submerged for up to six hours.
I reached Houston with simply awful timing -- right in the middle of evening crush hour. West of the city, as everyone is escaping, I-10 slows to a crawl, sometimes a complete stop, except for the HOV lanes. This mire lasts for about ten miles, and there are so many lanes of traffic that the navigator couldn't distinguish them (it kept advising me to stay left and get on the motorway; I was moving so slowly, I suppose, that it assumed I was on the frontage). I had hoped to stop for dinner and let the traffic clear out, but didn't see any good options before getting entangled, so I pressed on until it cleared. And, when it finally did, I decided to keep moving. The sun was setting as I pulled off I-10, one exit short of my turnoff, to eat at a favorite, Mikeska's BBQ (link warning: cheesy polka music), in Columbus, Texas, immediately off the highway. Fortunately, I still had 20 minutes before closing time. Brisket and sausage soon soothed my road-roughened nerves. My bottom simply was numb from two solid days driving, but sitting in a different chair helped, along with the food.
A very short hop along the interstate, and I was onto my final road to Austin, Rte. 71, 90 miles to go. The sun was well down. The navigator estimated my arrival time as 11:00 pm; I wanted to make it by 10:00. The Civic made good time, and I kept an eye on the ETA -- it kept getting earlier. Finally into Austin, and onto local roads, and I knew at once I was home because every damn light went red on me, and once the last light was behind me, I was stuck behind a pickup moving at a crawl. Feh. Home at last, just missing my target -- 10:01 pm. Nearly 1200 miles in two days. Driving that much left me feeling drained and awful, but for Carson's adventure, it was worth it.
We'd planned on him spending one week. Jenny wanted to keep him and he wanted to stay, so we agreed. Next weekend Val will be heading out to pick him up (though probably will not have to drive all the way to get him; Jenny and Carson will meet her somewhere in between for the handoff).
I don't remember how it began, but the notion was raised that it might be good for our young man to spend some time with his Aunt Jenny (Val's younger sister) and Uncle Dickie Joe on their cattle ranch in southern Mississippi. Everyone was in favor of this, Carson and Amalie most of all. So, arrangements made, Carson and I set out last Monday, just after Easter, and spent a long, long day on the road. Out of Austin (as always, the very worst part of any road trip is just getting out of this town), across east Texas, through Houston (and not at one of the awful crush hours). We stopped at a Cracker Barrel in Beaumont for a late lunch (he devoured a huge pancake), and pressed on. Orange is the last town in Texas along I-10 heading east, and is just about the halfway point on the journey. We were getting excellent mileage, but had to stop for gas eventually. More than once I offered Carson the chance to run around in a local park, but he refused, saying he wanted to get to Jenny's place -- for which, I could not blame him.
The straightest drive leaves I-10 (which dips southward for New Orleans) for I-12 in Louisiana for about 75 miles, and here we encountered our first real trouble -- a terrible traffic jam. To our good fortune, however, I had been given a Tomtom GPS navigator by my folks for last Christmas, and this was our maiden voyage using it. It did not automatically give directions around the jam (whatever was causing it), but did allow me to search local maps for a likely escape route. We got off the highway (we had stopped -- the jam was that bad -- right at the top of an exit ramp), drove north to the town of Abita Springs, then turned easterly, and eventually picked up I-12 again. Long stretches of rural Louisiana are no doubt lovely, but dang, there is nothing for many miles in that area. (Absolutely dismal service in a franchise of a well-known, national fast food chain did nothing to improve my mood or opinions of this state.)
Carson was holding up well as we finally passed into Mississippi, our journey almost finished, but it had been a long day. Even fortified by a late-morning nap, he was feeling drowsy. I handed him a pillow to prop his head. Finally we left the interstate and headed into the bayous. It was past 10:00 pm, and fogs drifted everywhere. I had a general notion of where to go, but quickly got into unfamiliar terrain. The Tomtom to our rescue again -- I entered in the exact address, followed the directions, and we were there in five minutes. I thought I would have to carry Carson inside, but he perked right up -- partly happy we had arrived, partly because he had new cars that he hadn't been allowed to open until we got there.
Jenny and Dickie Joe had stayed up, well past their usual bedtime, to greet us. Jenny stayed up with Carson for another hour or so, until he opened his new cars and began to settle down. He was bivouaced on a mattress on the floor in the office next to their bedroom, and quickly set up camp. Clothes, cars, other toys were set in handy locations. I headed upstairs, took a familiar bedroom, dressed down and brushed my teeth. I was exhausted from the drive, but in that annoying post-tired, pre-sleep phase where I just cannot drop off right away. I worked on a crossword while Jenny settled in Carson, then popped a movie into the laptop, and that did it -- when I roused a few hours later, the battery had drained, and I couldn't recall seeing more than five minutes of the film. I set it to recharge, checked on Carson (sleeping peacefully), then went back to sleep.
The next day I unloaded Carson's supplies from the car -- a bicycle (I remounted the training wheels), scooter, kid-sized garden tools, and sundry other items. I complied a list to work against when picking him up. He awoke, and I set him up with a bowl of cereal. Jenny was off in the fields, and Dickie Joe in parts unknown. The two of us wandered out to the barn (Carson riding his tricycle, and deliberately passing through puddles). Eventually Dickie Joe returned, hopped on a quad, and rode out to collect Jenny. After we had all assembled, Carson and I said some quick good-byes and a hug -- he had to head off with his aunt and uncle to a real estate closing. I had already packed my few items and was ready to depart for the long drive back home, but I made certain to put Carson into Jenny's arms and care. At her suggestion, I wrote out a note granting her medical authority if needed, tucked it into his passport, and headed out.
Finding I-10 again was easy, with or without the GPS navigator. Many billboards advertised casinos, but I wasn't tempted, I just wanted to get home. I stopped for gas and a late breakfast, then again in Jennings to take a good stretch at the park. Good timing, the alligator exhibit was open -- it is quite small, but the curator knows her stuff about the gators. There are two 14-foot males, one 7-foot female, and a 120-year-old alligator snapping turtle. The gators were basking in some gorgeous springtime sunshine, but the snapper stubbornly stayed at the bottom of a pool; apparently he can stay submerged for up to six hours.
I reached Houston with simply awful timing -- right in the middle of evening crush hour. West of the city, as everyone is escaping, I-10 slows to a crawl, sometimes a complete stop, except for the HOV lanes. This mire lasts for about ten miles, and there are so many lanes of traffic that the navigator couldn't distinguish them (it kept advising me to stay left and get on the motorway; I was moving so slowly, I suppose, that it assumed I was on the frontage). I had hoped to stop for dinner and let the traffic clear out, but didn't see any good options before getting entangled, so I pressed on until it cleared. And, when it finally did, I decided to keep moving. The sun was setting as I pulled off I-10, one exit short of my turnoff, to eat at a favorite, Mikeska's BBQ (link warning: cheesy polka music), in Columbus, Texas, immediately off the highway. Fortunately, I still had 20 minutes before closing time. Brisket and sausage soon soothed my road-roughened nerves. My bottom simply was numb from two solid days driving, but sitting in a different chair helped, along with the food.
A very short hop along the interstate, and I was onto my final road to Austin, Rte. 71, 90 miles to go. The sun was well down. The navigator estimated my arrival time as 11:00 pm; I wanted to make it by 10:00. The Civic made good time, and I kept an eye on the ETA -- it kept getting earlier. Finally into Austin, and onto local roads, and I knew at once I was home because every damn light went red on me, and once the last light was behind me, I was stuck behind a pickup moving at a crawl. Feh. Home at last, just missing my target -- 10:01 pm. Nearly 1200 miles in two days. Driving that much left me feeling drained and awful, but for Carson's adventure, it was worth it.
We'd planned on him spending one week. Jenny wanted to keep him and he wanted to stay, so we agreed. Next weekend Val will be heading out to pick him up (though probably will not have to drive all the way to get him; Jenny and Carson will meet her somewhere in between for the handoff).
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Fleeting Fame
I got interviewed.
It's primarily about baseball things, but there's a good pic of Carson from Summer 2008.
No doubt that soon, fame and fortune (cookies) will be coming my way.
It's primarily about baseball things, but there's a good pic of Carson from Summer 2008.
No doubt that soon, fame and fortune (cookies) will be coming my way.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Monday, April 06, 2009
Baseball Is Back, 2009
Today was -- is -- Opening Day. Sure, the season formally opened with the ESPN Sunday night game, and it was a good (and speedy) game, but Opening Day is a much more evocative term.
Today was Opening Day!
Baseball Is Back!
Springtime weather canceled two games, including the Red Sox-Rays match, but this is no matter. Baseball builds in extra off days near the start of the season just to accommodate such events. I watched some of the Mets-Reds game, and parts of the Yankees-Indians game. The teams matter little to me, today of all days -- I'm just glad the men are back on the diamonds. And I got to watch and listen and savor.
Of course, my fantasy team did awful, but that's to be expected.
Today was Opening Day!
Baseball Is Back!
Springtime weather canceled two games, including the Red Sox-Rays match, but this is no matter. Baseball builds in extra off days near the start of the season just to accommodate such events. I watched some of the Mets-Reds game, and parts of the Yankees-Indians game. The teams matter little to me, today of all days -- I'm just glad the men are back on the diamonds. And I got to watch and listen and savor.
Of course, my fantasy team did awful, but that's to be expected.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Breakin' My Wand
In his 1988 Baseball Abstract, Bill James closed out the book and his long string of years of writing the annual Abstract with a wonderful essay entitled "Breakin' The Wand". It was his swansong, spelling out how he'd done all he'd hoped for with the Abstract, that it was a huge drain on him every winter, and he wanted to move on to other things. And so he has -- James continues to provide immensely entertaining and informative material about baseball and other, lesser subjects, and his direct efforts with the Boston Red Sox have helped bring about the 2004 and 2007 championships. It was sad to see the Abstract go, but he has hardly left the stage.
The time has come for me to break my own wand (though I draw no comparisons between myself and James; he's a baseball legend. I've learned a great deal from his works and could never thank him enough. I just like how he walked off that particular stage in subdued but undeniable style), that of being the Top Contributor to the Yahoo! Answers Baseball forum. I joined it nearly two years ago, and it has been a lot of fun. But all things pass in their turn, and the Y!AB forum is no longer a place I should be. I have need of some significant restructuring of my personal life, and while I still enjoy the forum, it is high atop the list of things that I need to push off my personal Cliffs of Insanity. Real baseball begins again on Sunday night, and that will be more than enough distraction, along with my fantasy team (where winning a single week will be more than fulfilling of any expectant fantasies involved).
So, I'm moving on. Probably not entirely, but mostly. I look forward to getting knocked out of the top slot on the Contributors scoreboard.
Lift high the torches, defend the faith, do not go quietly, begrudge every out given up, and lay off that outside slider.
And, play ball!
The time has come for me to break my own wand (though I draw no comparisons between myself and James; he's a baseball legend. I've learned a great deal from his works and could never thank him enough. I just like how he walked off that particular stage in subdued but undeniable style), that of being the Top Contributor to the Yahoo! Answers Baseball forum. I joined it nearly two years ago, and it has been a lot of fun. But all things pass in their turn, and the Y!AB forum is no longer a place I should be. I have need of some significant restructuring of my personal life, and while I still enjoy the forum, it is high atop the list of things that I need to push off my personal Cliffs of Insanity. Real baseball begins again on Sunday night, and that will be more than enough distraction, along with my fantasy team (where winning a single week will be more than fulfilling of any expectant fantasies involved).
So, I'm moving on. Probably not entirely, but mostly. I look forward to getting knocked out of the top slot on the Contributors scoreboard.
Lift high the torches, defend the faith, do not go quietly, begrudge every out given up, and lay off that outside slider.
And, play ball!
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