I was hoping the Brian McCann would end up with the Red Sox or Rangers if the Braves chose not to even make him an offer. Instead he’ll be wearing Yankee pinstripes next season after signing a five-year, $85M contract with a vesting option for a sixth year that could push the value of his contract to $100M, per Jon Heyman of CBS Sports.
I expect that McCann will thrive in the launching pad that is the new Yankees Stadium. And though I am not a Yankees fan, I hope he does well. I know that I’ll be rooting for him to succeed.
I don’t watch the NFL or NCAA football or basketball. If Jeremy Lin and the Rockets are on a national or Lakers broadcast, then I’ll tune in for awhile until I get frustrated watching the pathetic state of current NBA play. So how does this baseball fan survive the off season?
By reading books about baseball.
I recently finished Francona: The Red Sox Years, and I am curently reading Driving Mr. Yogi: Yogi Berra, Ron Guidry and Baseball’s Greatest Gift. I very much enjoyed reading Francona, and I zipped right through it. Surprisingly (to me), I am enjoying reading Driving Mr. Yogi despite the fact that I am most assuredly NOT a Yankees fan. I love to read baseball anecdotes and memoirs.
In contrast though, I found The Yankee Years by Joe Torre and Tom Verducci to be… boring. I finished less than half the book earlier this summer, before moving on to something else. Maybe I’ll go back to it again someday, but it is way down on my reading list now.
Not that I have a vote, but if I did they would go to Wil Myers of the Tampa Bay Rays and Jose Fernandez of the Miami Marlins for the 2013 AL and NL Rookie of the Year award.
The choice of Myers over American League finalists Chris Archer and Jose Iglesias was an easy one for me. Myers came into the season as the highly touted 2012 Minor League Player of the Year and with all the expectations that came with that recognition. All he did was live up to those expectations, posting a .293/.354/.478 slash line with 13 home runs and 53 RBI in 373 plate appearances over 88 games. His WAR (Fangraphs version) of 2.4 also bested Archer’s 1.2 and Iglesias’ 1.8.
The National League race though was much closer for me. You couldn’t take your eyes off the Dodgers Yasiel Puig whether he was at bat, on the basepaths or in the field. However I decided to give the nod to Fernandez, who held opposing hitters to a league best .182 batting average against and a league low .265 slugging percentage against. His 2.19 ERA also trails only the two-time defending (and likely 2013) NL Cy Young Award winner Clayton Kershaw. Want more? His 0.98 WHIP finished behind only Kershaw (0.92) and Mets phenom Matt Harvey (0.93). For what its worth, Fernandez’s 4.2 Fangraphs WAR also bested Puig’s 4.0 and Miller’s 2.1.
Photo Credits: Left: Wil Myers, photo by Jared Wickerham/Getty Images Right: Jose Fernandez, photo by Al Messerschmidt/Getty Images
I hadn’t played a round of golf in almost 18 months until this past weekend when I met up with my brothers in Palm Springs. I had not been playing particularly well on the day due to rust, but I was not playing particularly badly either considering the rust. A small crowd camped out beside the tee box at the 14th hole to watch our tee shots. I told them to be ready to be entertained by what was sure to be a comic effort on my part. I then proceeded to unleash my best drive of the day - 265 yards, right down the middle of a 466-yard uphill par-five hole. I exclaimed, “BOOM!” during my back swing (see middle photo) to the adoring crowd (of four plus my two brothers) before proudly stepping back to admire my prodigious blast.
Six shots later, I one-putted for a crowd pleasing double bogie.
Photos by my crazy younger brother, who thought it would be a good idea to camp beneath me as a swung a golf club at full speed.
kmedwards asked: One Hit From Home, The Perfect Game, and Pastime. I don't know you have seen them. If you haven't go do it now. If you have I would like to know what you think.
I have not watched any of those movies. I had not even heard of those movies until I you asked. After watching the trailers,The Perfect Game and Pastime look promising to me. All three are available online from Netflix.
I will let you know what I think. Maybe I’ll even write a review (though I’ve never written a movie review before).
Leiter threw the first. Brown allowed just one baserunner, on a hit-by-pitch. Burnett set a record by walking nine. Sanchez threw the final one at Dolphin/Sun Life Stadium.
Today, Henderson Alvarez threw the latest no-hitter in Marlins franchise history and the first at the new Marlins Park while standing in the on-deck circle. Alvarez mistakenly thought he had pitched a no-hitter when he struck out Tiger first baseman Matt Tuiososopo to end the top of the ninth. When he looked at the scoreboard though, he realized the score was actually tied 0-0.
The Marlins, with no one warming up in the bullpen, intended to have Alvarez return to the mound for the tenth. Things never got that far though thanks to two singles and two wild pitches by Tigers reliever Luke Putkonen, the last of which allowed the winning run to score in the person of right field slugger Giancarlo Stanton.
Photo Credits: Top: Henderson Alvarez, AP Photo Middle: Al Leiter, by Robert Mayer/Sun Sentinel Bottom Left: Kevin Brown, AP Photo Bottom Middle: AJ Burnett, AP Photo Bottom Right: Anibal Sanchez, Sports Illustrated
What would it have sounded like if Vin Scully had called Andy Pettitte’s final pitch?
I imagine it would have sounded a lot like this.
I am very critical of Yankee play-by-play announcer John Sterling and his ridiculous over-the-top home run calls. So, I decided to re-create Andy Pettitte’s final MLB pitch with legendary Hall of Fame broadcaster Vin Scully at the mic instead.
I’m not a Yankees fan, but I was able to appreciate Mariano Rivera. He never gave anyone a reason to hate him. He never tried to show up the hitter or the opposing team’s fans. There were no WWE worthy histrionics (see Joba Chamberlain and Francisco Rodriguez). There were no signature celebrations (see the bow and arrow by Fernando Rodney, the untucking of his jersey by Rafael Soriano, or even the Eck’s squinty-eyed fist pump). There were no stare-downs or any bulletin board fodder.
Mariano Rivera seemed ever mindful of the baseball gods’ capricious nature. He just did his job, shook his teammates hands, and tipped his cap to recognize the fanfare.