I was in St. Louis for a wedding recently, and as my girlfriend and I were recovering from our hangovers on Sunday morning, we found ourselves watching Dirty Dancing.
I’ll be honest, I’ve always enjoyed Dirty Dancing despite the fact that it's pretty stupid. I guess it's what we like to call a "guilty pleasure." I remember when it first came out, my sister was absolutely obsessed with it. I think she saw it in the theater like five times, and she even had a giant poster in her room that featured Patrick Swayze sprawled out on the floor and unleashing those hungry eyes made famous by the film’s soundtrack. (Sorry to sell you out, Sis!) Speaking of the soundtrack, can someone explain to me why they mixed classic 1960s music with random 1980s songs? One minute we're listening to "Do You Love Me?" (or whatever that song is called), the next minute Swayze is singing "She's Like The Wind." This never made sense to me. Moving on.
Even though I’ve seen the movie a number of times, I’ve never really taken the time to think about it too critically—until now. And frankly, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Baby et al after the final dance. Are we supposed to think that they lived happily after? If not, then what is really the point? Some resort guest having a fling with an employee is nothing earth-shattering. Isn’t that why guys like Johnny and Robbie take those jobs? After college, my friend and I were thinking of trying to get a job at a resort to kill some time while we figured out our lives. I remember relaying this resort idea to a family friend in front of my mother. The friend said, “well, you better pack a lot of condoms.!” Yes, awkward.
I’d like to think that Baby and Johnny tried to make things work after their summer at Kellerman’s, and I’ve even laid out an idea for a sequel. I know they made that “Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights,” but that doesn’t count. Here’s how I see Dirty Dancing 2 playing out.
After the way things ended in the Catskills, there was no way Baby and Johnny were just going to let their romance die. They wowed the crowd, Mr. Houseman finally accepted Johnny, and Penny looked healthy. It would just be a waste to not try and build on that progress.
As we know, Baby was headed to Mt. Holyoke that fall, and we can only assume that she would have become heavily involved in their dance program. And surely, after learning all those sweet Mambo moves, she was the freshman sensation that fall. Of course, not all was well. Long-distance relationships are hard enough in the era of cell phones and e-mail, but they were even harder back in the 1960s. There was probably only one phone per hall, so that would make phone sex pretty much impossible. And I’d have to think Johnny wasn’t very good at writing letters. Besides, we know he had just been accepted into the housepainters union, so he was probably busy with that. So yeah, there would need to be some long-distance drama.
The other subplot that probably needs to be explored is Baby at an all-girls school. Remember, she chose Mt. Holyoke before meeting Johnny, and it wouldn’t be surprising if the Housemans sort of assumed she played for the other team. Based on the way her family treated her, it didn’t seem like Baby had ever really been involved with many guys. So even though she had Johnny, we can only assume that many of the lesbians at Mt. Holyoke were intrigued by the star freshman dancer. Johnny, always the ladies man, would surely want to exploit this on his frequent trips up to visit her. Remember, this is the 1960s, and we know baby has some hippy tendencies. (You see where I am going with this?) Let’s just say that Baby, Johnny end up in an open relationship with a senior named Mary. Moving on.
Baby ends up choreographing a big Mambo number for the spring recital, but she is having trouble teaching some of the more difficult steps. Being the nice guy that he is, Johnny ends up spending some of his spare time bringing it all together. The show is a huge success, and the Mt. Holyoke dance department is impressed by Johnny’s teaching ability, and they offer him a job as a guest instructor. He jumps at the opportunity to teach dancing full time while also being with Baby. They end up moving in together, and open up a private dance studio in Northamtpon as soon as Baby graduates.
I realize I might have jumped back and forth a little bit between tenses in that treatment right there, but I defy you to find a fan of the original that would not watch this sequel. And please, don’t try to steal this idea, it’s now been documented as mine thanks to the magic of blogspot.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Dear John Olerud*
I’ve been working on a massive post about a movie I recently re-watched and have a bunch of new thoughts on, but please indulge me with a post about a topic even more dear to my heart. You guessed it, that means another Mets post!
For the first time in a while I’m actually sort of feeling good about the Mets. For starters, they’re playing pretty well, and they are 5-1 in games I’ve attended this year, including Tuesday’s late-inning comeback against the Braves. (Yes, I’ve already been to six games. What of it?) Additionally, I am in the midst of reading “Faith And Fear In Flushing,” written by Greg Prince, who also writes a blog of the same name. Prince has a gift for making even the most loathsome and irritating Mets team seem somewhat loveable, and this book is highly enjoyable for any obsessive Mets fan.
When I was at the game on Friday, I was talking to my friend about a trivia question I saw on Joe Posnanski’s blog. Who has the highest career OPS as Mets (minimum 2,000 plate appearances)?
Like me, you’re first answer is probably Mike Piazza. And, like me, you’d be wrong. The answer, much to my surprise, is John Olerud. For obvious reasons, this got me doing some research on Olerud and the Mets.
For starters, the top five Mets OPS (min. 2,000 PAs) looks like this.
1. John Olerud .926
2. David Wright .921
3. Mike Piazza .915
4. Darryl Strawberry .879
5. Carlos Beltran .877
When you think about it a bit, this makes sense. Remember, John Olerud only spent three years with the Mets, and it was during what is typically the tail end of a player’s peak (age 28-30). Unlike Piazza, he was never around for his decline phase to drag down his OPS. If you take Piazza’s first three full years as a Met, which were, not coincidentally, his three best years, he had an OPS of .967.
Piazza isn’t really the point of all this. The point is that I think most Mets have forgotten just how good Olerud was for the Mets. More specifically, I think they’ve forgotten just how good Olerud was in 1998.
Most fans associate 1998 with Sosa and McGwire, the year we all fell back in love with baseball after the strike. In reality, it was the summer of Olerud. Did you remember that Olerud hit .354 that summer? I didn’t. Did you remember that he walked 96 times and struck out 73 times? I didn’t? Did you remember that his .447 OBP was second only to McGwire in all of baseball, higher than Bonds, and 70 points higher than Sosa? I definitely did not remember that.
In fact, Olerud’s adjusted OPS, which is a stat that that adjusts for home park and compares it to league average, was 163 (100 is average), and Sosa’s was 160. In the year that Sosa hit 66 homers and won NL MVP, Olerud had a higher adjusted OPS! How did I not know this?
And on top of all that, Olerud finished 12th in MVP voting! And this was for a team that was in contention until the last day of the season. I realize we have become far more savvy to the importance of OBP and park factors in the last 11 years (or at least I have), but that’s absurd. Then again, Sosa won MVP in a landslide, and I’m pretty sure I wrote a column in my college saying he should. Based on what I know now, McGwire was clearly a lot more valuable. And Olerud might have been as well.
*Prior to the season, I named my fantasy baseball team "Dear John Olerud." This was before I made my Olerud OPS revelation. Now I feel even better about my team name.
For the first time in a while I’m actually sort of feeling good about the Mets. For starters, they’re playing pretty well, and they are 5-1 in games I’ve attended this year, including Tuesday’s late-inning comeback against the Braves. (Yes, I’ve already been to six games. What of it?) Additionally, I am in the midst of reading “Faith And Fear In Flushing,” written by Greg Prince, who also writes a blog of the same name. Prince has a gift for making even the most loathsome and irritating Mets team seem somewhat loveable, and this book is highly enjoyable for any obsessive Mets fan.
When I was at the game on Friday, I was talking to my friend about a trivia question I saw on Joe Posnanski’s blog. Who has the highest career OPS as Mets (minimum 2,000 plate appearances)?
Like me, you’re first answer is probably Mike Piazza. And, like me, you’d be wrong. The answer, much to my surprise, is John Olerud. For obvious reasons, this got me doing some research on Olerud and the Mets.
For starters, the top five Mets OPS (min. 2,000 PAs) looks like this.
1. John Olerud .926
2. David Wright .921
3. Mike Piazza .915
4. Darryl Strawberry .879
5. Carlos Beltran .877
When you think about it a bit, this makes sense. Remember, John Olerud only spent three years with the Mets, and it was during what is typically the tail end of a player’s peak (age 28-30). Unlike Piazza, he was never around for his decline phase to drag down his OPS. If you take Piazza’s first three full years as a Met, which were, not coincidentally, his three best years, he had an OPS of .967.
Piazza isn’t really the point of all this. The point is that I think most Mets have forgotten just how good Olerud was for the Mets. More specifically, I think they’ve forgotten just how good Olerud was in 1998.
Most fans associate 1998 with Sosa and McGwire, the year we all fell back in love with baseball after the strike. In reality, it was the summer of Olerud. Did you remember that Olerud hit .354 that summer? I didn’t. Did you remember that he walked 96 times and struck out 73 times? I didn’t? Did you remember that his .447 OBP was second only to McGwire in all of baseball, higher than Bonds, and 70 points higher than Sosa? I definitely did not remember that.
In fact, Olerud’s adjusted OPS, which is a stat that that adjusts for home park and compares it to league average, was 163 (100 is average), and Sosa’s was 160. In the year that Sosa hit 66 homers and won NL MVP, Olerud had a higher adjusted OPS! How did I not know this?
And on top of all that, Olerud finished 12th in MVP voting! And this was for a team that was in contention until the last day of the season. I realize we have become far more savvy to the importance of OBP and park factors in the last 11 years (or at least I have), but that’s absurd. Then again, Sosa won MVP in a landslide, and I’m pretty sure I wrote a column in my college saying he should. Based on what I know now, McGwire was clearly a lot more valuable. And Olerud might have been as well.
*Prior to the season, I named my fantasy baseball team "Dear John Olerud." This was before I made my Olerud OPS revelation. Now I feel even better about my team name.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Mets: Torture, Or Just Painful?
I will preface this post by saying that the impact of baseball managers is typically overstated. And usually, I do not like to play the game of blaming a manager or coach for a team’s failures.
Jerry Manuel is not the guy who can’t seem to drive in get a runner in from third with less than two outs. That’s David Wright. He is also not the guy who can’t seem to throw a freaking strike. That’s Ollie Perez. He is also not the big-name reliever who was brought in to protect one-run leads in the eighth inning, only to blow the first big spot he was put into. That’s J.J. Putz. So yes, Manuel is far from the only person to blame for the Mets malaise. What he is, however, is an idiot.
I hate to be harsh, but how else do you explain pinch-hitting Omir Santos for Ramon Castro in the ninth inning of a game with the bases loaded trailing by one run? Seriously, I’m asking, because I have no fucking clue.
Santos is a journeyman minor leaguer with a career .651 OPS. Yes, he hit a grand slam the other day and that was nice, but even a blind horse finds water sometimes. He’s 28 years old and it is pretty clear that by the standard of professional baseball, he is an awful hitter. Castro, on the other hand has a career .723 OPS in the MAJOR LEAGUES. That’s nothing special, but still significantly better. He also had two hits on the day, which means you can’t argue that you are going with the guy that was swinging the hot bat.
Apparently, when asked, Manuel said something about Santos’ short swing being better suited to face the hard-throwing Matt Lindstrom (the same Matt Lindstrom, mind you, that Omar Minaya once gave away in a trade, but that’s another story). Is he kidding? If his swing was short and sweet, then how come he slugged a robust .323 last year in Triple-A. Oh, and by the way, earlier in the game Castro gotten a hit off Josh Johnson, who was pumping in fastballs at 98 mph.
This decision flies in the face of logic. And as my college friends can tell you, logic is my specialty. If you ask them, it pretty much defines me. My favorite part of watching a baseball game is trying to figure out the best strategy to maximize the chances of success (yes, I’m a nerd). Typically, a manager’s decision is pretty easy. But sometimes, particularly late in games, it can get complex. This, however, was not one of those times. The best part was that Santos was down in the bullpen when it happened, so it took like three minutes between batters for someone to go get him. Which can only mean that he thought Manuel crazy too. And in addition to being a horseshit strategic move, what does it say to Castro? When you’re getting pinch-hit for by Omir freaking Santos, it’s pretty freaking clear your manager has no faith in you.
If the average person made a decision that bad in their job, it’s likely they would be fired. That’s how idiotic it was. I now have absolutely no faith in Manuel’s ability to make the right decision, which only further reduces my faith in this team.
I realize that I’m projecting my frustration with the Mets (and Swine Flu!) to some degree, but holy shit that was stupid. (End rant.)
Jerry Manuel is not the guy who can’t seem to drive in get a runner in from third with less than two outs. That’s David Wright. He is also not the guy who can’t seem to throw a freaking strike. That’s Ollie Perez. He is also not the big-name reliever who was brought in to protect one-run leads in the eighth inning, only to blow the first big spot he was put into. That’s J.J. Putz. So yes, Manuel is far from the only person to blame for the Mets malaise. What he is, however, is an idiot.
I hate to be harsh, but how else do you explain pinch-hitting Omir Santos for Ramon Castro in the ninth inning of a game with the bases loaded trailing by one run? Seriously, I’m asking, because I have no fucking clue.
Santos is a journeyman minor leaguer with a career .651 OPS. Yes, he hit a grand slam the other day and that was nice, but even a blind horse finds water sometimes. He’s 28 years old and it is pretty clear that by the standard of professional baseball, he is an awful hitter. Castro, on the other hand has a career .723 OPS in the MAJOR LEAGUES. That’s nothing special, but still significantly better. He also had two hits on the day, which means you can’t argue that you are going with the guy that was swinging the hot bat.
Apparently, when asked, Manuel said something about Santos’ short swing being better suited to face the hard-throwing Matt Lindstrom (the same Matt Lindstrom, mind you, that Omar Minaya once gave away in a trade, but that’s another story). Is he kidding? If his swing was short and sweet, then how come he slugged a robust .323 last year in Triple-A. Oh, and by the way, earlier in the game Castro gotten a hit off Josh Johnson, who was pumping in fastballs at 98 mph.
This decision flies in the face of logic. And as my college friends can tell you, logic is my specialty. If you ask them, it pretty much defines me. My favorite part of watching a baseball game is trying to figure out the best strategy to maximize the chances of success (yes, I’m a nerd). Typically, a manager’s decision is pretty easy. But sometimes, particularly late in games, it can get complex. This, however, was not one of those times. The best part was that Santos was down in the bullpen when it happened, so it took like three minutes between batters for someone to go get him. Which can only mean that he thought Manuel crazy too. And in addition to being a horseshit strategic move, what does it say to Castro? When you’re getting pinch-hit for by Omir freaking Santos, it’s pretty freaking clear your manager has no faith in you.
If the average person made a decision that bad in their job, it’s likely they would be fired. That’s how idiotic it was. I now have absolutely no faith in Manuel’s ability to make the right decision, which only further reduces my faith in this team.
I realize that I’m projecting my frustration with the Mets (and Swine Flu!) to some degree, but holy shit that was stupid. (End rant.)
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Natalie Portman Should Sue
I’ve been to my fair share of concerts in my life. And like most people, I typically try and avoid the opening act. That’s not always a smart move because I miss out on a good band I’ve never heard of, but it’s typically the right thing to do. Some opening acts eventually become headliners, but most opening acts are opening acts for a reason. I was reminded of this on Monday night when I went to Roseland to see Lily Allen (insert joke about my girly music taste here), and the opening act was some band called Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head.
As per usual, I called the venue to see what the set times were. This allows me to head in about halfway through the opener’s set, while making sure I don’t miss the headliner. Unfortunately, NPSH started late, and I had to endure most of their set. To quote Homer Simpson, “I don’t want to say they sucked . . . but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever did suck.”
I’m typically pretty tolerant when it comes to music. And while I don’t completely agree with my friend Dan Squadron who says, “I like every band’s two best songs,” I feel like any band good enough to get a gig at Roseland has at least one good song. Apparently not.
At one point there was a break in the set, and I thought NPSH might be done. They were actually just switching singers, allowing a female member of the band to take the mic. I was hopeful that this might be where things picked up, but instead they broke into a song in which the chorus was her screaming, “do you like my ponytail? My sideways ponytail!” Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
They followed that up with a song about facial hair. At least that one was sung by a dude. I get that this group is trying to be silly. Even if their name doesn’t get this across, their music certainly does. The problem is that it’s just bad music. It’s like listening to Girl Talk, if Girl Talk used only bad songs and made no effort to blend them. Truly cacophonous.
As for Lily Allen, she was excellent. I’m not a huge fan, but I enjoy her stuff. My sister was getting tickets, so I told her to get two more for my girlfriend and me. Besides sounding really good live, Allen is also quite funny. “Cheeky,” if you will. Towards the end of her set, Allen said, “alright, this is my last song. Well, it’s not actually my last song, but I have to pretend like it is. You know the drill.” I’ve always thought the whole encore thing was always a little silly. I’d prefer to live in a world in which encores were not customary, but only given on special occasions when the crowd truly demanded it. The way it’s done now is a charade, and props to Lily Allen for acknowledging it.
As per usual, I called the venue to see what the set times were. This allows me to head in about halfway through the opener’s set, while making sure I don’t miss the headliner. Unfortunately, NPSH started late, and I had to endure most of their set. To quote Homer Simpson, “I don’t want to say they sucked . . . but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever did suck.”
I’m typically pretty tolerant when it comes to music. And while I don’t completely agree with my friend Dan Squadron who says, “I like every band’s two best songs,” I feel like any band good enough to get a gig at Roseland has at least one good song. Apparently not.
At one point there was a break in the set, and I thought NPSH might be done. They were actually just switching singers, allowing a female member of the band to take the mic. I was hopeful that this might be where things picked up, but instead they broke into a song in which the chorus was her screaming, “do you like my ponytail? My sideways ponytail!” Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
They followed that up with a song about facial hair. At least that one was sung by a dude. I get that this group is trying to be silly. Even if their name doesn’t get this across, their music certainly does. The problem is that it’s just bad music. It’s like listening to Girl Talk, if Girl Talk used only bad songs and made no effort to blend them. Truly cacophonous.
As for Lily Allen, she was excellent. I’m not a huge fan, but I enjoy her stuff. My sister was getting tickets, so I told her to get two more for my girlfriend and me. Besides sounding really good live, Allen is also quite funny. “Cheeky,” if you will. Towards the end of her set, Allen said, “alright, this is my last song. Well, it’s not actually my last song, but I have to pretend like it is. You know the drill.” I’ve always thought the whole encore thing was always a little silly. I’d prefer to live in a world in which encores were not customary, but only given on special occasions when the crowd truly demanded it. The way it’s done now is a charade, and props to Lily Allen for acknowledging it.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Next Big Thing
If you've been reading this blog, you know I love to throw out theories. And I have another theory that I want to share with you. Those of you who hang out with me regularly have probably heard this theory before, but there is nothing I can do about that. Here it is again.
This is a theory that first came to me when I was recently re-watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," and I became convinced of its merits upon seeing "I Love You, Man." The theory is as follows: Jason Segel is the next Tom Hanks.
I don't know why exactly this came to me, but ever since I thought of it I have become convinced that within the next five years Segel is going to be one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. And I think it's because of a certainly quality he shares with Hanks that I am not exactly sure I can explain. The best way I can put might be this: he's inclusive.
When you watch Segel in movies or on "How I Met Your Mother," you always feel like you're in on the joke. It's the same quality that Hanks had in "Big" and "Bachelor Party," and it makes them both feel very accessible. Hanks has lost a bit of this over the years as he has become a mega-star, but this was a huge part of his appeal in the 1980s. Part of my problem with a lot of the Judd Apatow mafia (Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Bill Hader) is that I've started to get the sense that they think they are a little too cool for school. With Segel, however, that's not the case. He's just an unpretentious goofball who is extremely likeable in pretty much everything he does. And like Hanks, he's good looking, but not too good looking, and I think this works to his benefit. It makes him more accessible, in fact. And though Segel hasn't done much comedy in his career, I'm convinced he has the gravitas to pull off drama. We actually know he does because he did it on "Freaks And Geeks."
I mean, can't you just envision Segel's career arc from here? He's going to keep doing "How I Met Your Mother" for a couple of years, and he is set to co-write the next Muppet movie. That is obviously going to be a huge hit. I mean, after seeing bits of the Dracula musical in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," how can it not be great? He'll probably get some supporting roles in Apatow-type films here and there, and then there will be the inevitable story in "Entertainment Weekly" in which Segel says, "you know, I'm thinking I might like to take on some more dramatic roles." Then he'll end up starring with Kate Winslet in some Charlie Kaufman flick about a couple who decides to roller skate across Canada. Segel will get nominated for an Oscar, and even though he won't win, it will be the first step towards his dramatic film career. And then 10 years after that we will all laugh ironically when "Knocked Up" is on cable and think, "remember when Jason Segel used to do comedy? Man, that was a long time ago!"
The problem with my Segel=Hanks theory is that it leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I like being right, and it would give me great pleasure to still be e-mailing people this link in 10 years when Jason Segel is all the rage with the subject line "see, I told you so." On the other hand, I think there is a dearth of quality comedy (say that 10 times fast), and it would be sad if one of the finest comedic actors around stopped doing comedy. I still lament the fact that Hanks stopped doing comedy because he is so good at it. In case you've forgotten, watch any number of SNL's he's hosted to see what I'm talking about. So even if I win, we all lose. It's quite a conundrum.
This is a theory that first came to me when I was recently re-watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," and I became convinced of its merits upon seeing "I Love You, Man." The theory is as follows: Jason Segel is the next Tom Hanks.
I don't know why exactly this came to me, but ever since I thought of it I have become convinced that within the next five years Segel is going to be one of the biggest movie stars on the planet. And I think it's because of a certainly quality he shares with Hanks that I am not exactly sure I can explain. The best way I can put might be this: he's inclusive.
When you watch Segel in movies or on "How I Met Your Mother," you always feel like you're in on the joke. It's the same quality that Hanks had in "Big" and "Bachelor Party," and it makes them both feel very accessible. Hanks has lost a bit of this over the years as he has become a mega-star, but this was a huge part of his appeal in the 1980s. Part of my problem with a lot of the Judd Apatow mafia (Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Bill Hader) is that I've started to get the sense that they think they are a little too cool for school. With Segel, however, that's not the case. He's just an unpretentious goofball who is extremely likeable in pretty much everything he does. And like Hanks, he's good looking, but not too good looking, and I think this works to his benefit. It makes him more accessible, in fact. And though Segel hasn't done much comedy in his career, I'm convinced he has the gravitas to pull off drama. We actually know he does because he did it on "Freaks And Geeks."
I mean, can't you just envision Segel's career arc from here? He's going to keep doing "How I Met Your Mother" for a couple of years, and he is set to co-write the next Muppet movie. That is obviously going to be a huge hit. I mean, after seeing bits of the Dracula musical in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," how can it not be great? He'll probably get some supporting roles in Apatow-type films here and there, and then there will be the inevitable story in "Entertainment Weekly" in which Segel says, "you know, I'm thinking I might like to take on some more dramatic roles." Then he'll end up starring with Kate Winslet in some Charlie Kaufman flick about a couple who decides to roller skate across Canada. Segel will get nominated for an Oscar, and even though he won't win, it will be the first step towards his dramatic film career. And then 10 years after that we will all laugh ironically when "Knocked Up" is on cable and think, "remember when Jason Segel used to do comedy? Man, that was a long time ago!"
The problem with my Segel=Hanks theory is that it leaves me conflicted. On the one hand, I like being right, and it would give me great pleasure to still be e-mailing people this link in 10 years when Jason Segel is all the rage with the subject line "see, I told you so." On the other hand, I think there is a dearth of quality comedy (say that 10 times fast), and it would be sad if one of the finest comedic actors around stopped doing comedy. I still lament the fact that Hanks stopped doing comedy because he is so good at it. In case you've forgotten, watch any number of SNL's he's hosted to see what I'm talking about. So even if I win, we all lose. It's quite a conundrum.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Say It Ain't So
I was browsing through Facebook today, and I noticed that a couple of my friends had taken the “what baseball player are you quiz?” By rule, I typically never take these kinds of quizzes because, let’s face it, they’re really stupid. But this one was, for obvious reasons, right up my alley. Plus, one of my friends got Gary Pettis as the result, and the other got Chet Lemon, and that just made it seem more fun.
As an aside, I’m pretty sure every baseball fan thinks Chet Lemon is pretty cool because of his name. And one of the more amusing moments of my journalism career was interviewing Chet, who now runs an elite baseball travel team. They’re called Chet Lemon’s Juice. No joke.
So yeah, I went ahead and took the freaking quiz, which were mostly questions not about baseball. They were more about movie preferences, style of dress, and political leanings. After answering the questions (I think there were 12), I anxiously awaited the results. Wait for it . . .
Jimmy Rollins.
Yes, that Jimmy Rollins. Me, Mr. Mets Fans. The guy who has Baseball America covers with Kevin Mitchell, Jose Reyes and Tim Teufel adorning his walls. The guy who was watched “1986 Mets: A Year To Remember” roughly 900 times. But according to this fucking Facebook quiz, I’m Jimmy Rollins, the Mets No. 1 nemesis. My world is coming apart.
I mean, I guess there are worse players to be. If I could be a ballplayer, I would want to be a multi-dimensional up-the-middle player. But why couldn’t I be Carlos Beltran? In fact, I said I wanted to be an outfielder on the freaking quiz! If I say outfield, how do I end up as a shortstop? This shit is rigged. Furthermore, how come all three results I am aware of ended up with a black guy as their answer? This wasn’t the “what black baseball player are you quiz?” Or maybe it was. Nope, just checked, it wasn’t. And while I checked, I noticed another Facebook friend had taken the quiz, and he got Steve Jeltz, another black player, as his result. So maybe it really is the “what black ballplayer are you” quiz. This whole thing makes it even more unlikely I will ever do one of these Facebook quizzes again. Even so, I’m still Jimmy Rollins. I would have even preferred Marlon Anderson.
As an aside, I’m pretty sure every baseball fan thinks Chet Lemon is pretty cool because of his name. And one of the more amusing moments of my journalism career was interviewing Chet, who now runs an elite baseball travel team. They’re called Chet Lemon’s Juice. No joke.
So yeah, I went ahead and took the freaking quiz, which were mostly questions not about baseball. They were more about movie preferences, style of dress, and political leanings. After answering the questions (I think there were 12), I anxiously awaited the results. Wait for it . . .
Jimmy Rollins.
Yes, that Jimmy Rollins. Me, Mr. Mets Fans. The guy who has Baseball America covers with Kevin Mitchell, Jose Reyes and Tim Teufel adorning his walls. The guy who was watched “1986 Mets: A Year To Remember” roughly 900 times. But according to this fucking Facebook quiz, I’m Jimmy Rollins, the Mets No. 1 nemesis. My world is coming apart.
I mean, I guess there are worse players to be. If I could be a ballplayer, I would want to be a multi-dimensional up-the-middle player. But why couldn’t I be Carlos Beltran? In fact, I said I wanted to be an outfielder on the freaking quiz! If I say outfield, how do I end up as a shortstop? This shit is rigged. Furthermore, how come all three results I am aware of ended up with a black guy as their answer? This wasn’t the “what black baseball player are you quiz?” Or maybe it was. Nope, just checked, it wasn’t. And while I checked, I noticed another Facebook friend had taken the quiz, and he got Steve Jeltz, another black player, as his result. So maybe it really is the “what black ballplayer are you” quiz. This whole thing makes it even more unlikely I will ever do one of these Facebook quizzes again. Even so, I’m still Jimmy Rollins. I would have even preferred Marlon Anderson.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Most Sheffinently
It’s been a while since I did a post about the Mets, but this Gary Sheffield singing has proven to be quite divisive and I wanted to weigh because while I believe this is a pretty sharp move, I get the sense most people think this a bad idea.
Here’s hoping I can get Mets fans to step back off the proverbial ledge with this list of reasons explaining why this is a good idea.
1) Sheffield is much, much better than Marlon Anderson: Here’s the thing about Anderson, he seems like a great guy. In fact, I’m almost sure he is. The problem is that he is no longer a good baseball player. I'm not sure he ever was. The 35-year-old has a .265/.314/.391 career line, and he hit .210/.255/.275 last year in 151 at-bats. And yes, the Mets were entering the season with the plan being him as their top pinch-hitter. Sheffield hit .225/.326/.400 last year, and just .237 on balls in play. That's incredibly low. And coupled with the fact that he is coming to a weaker league, there is reason to believe he will end up looking a lot better than his 2008 line suggests. If you replace Anderson with Sheffield on the bench, that's an improvement. I recognize that Sheff's defense is brutal, but it's not like Anderson has any defensive value. Last year he played 25 games in left, six at first and one at second. He's a utilityman without any utility. At least Sheff is a threat to drive the ball. Marlon is a threat to drive me absolutely insane if I have to continually watch him ground meekly to first like he did against the Reds in the opener.
2) The Mets lean left, and not in a New York Times sort of way: The Mets currently employ lefthanded hitters at first base (Carlos Delgado), left field (Dan Murphy) and right field (Ryan Church). All of these guys are either mediocre (Delgado), unproven (Murphy) or bad (Church) against lefthanded pitching. Furthermore, they have a number of bench bats (Anderson, Jeremy Reed and Alex Cora) who also hit lefty. Bringing in Sheffield gives them a much more balanced bench, and allows them to use him in tandem with Fernando Tatis to mix and match in the outfield corners and at first. In the National League, this gives them a lot of flexibility.
3) Murphy might not be all that: Mets fans are all fired up about Murphy, but I think we should still be a little skeptical. He clearly has a very patient approach at the plate, but it's unclear if there is more to him than that. There is a good chance he hits roughly .280/.360/.400 for his career, and that's not bad. However, you'd typically like more from your leftfielder than that. I was talking to my friend Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus, and he thinks Murphy is going to be the next Frank Catalanatto. I think that's fair. Now if Murphy can replicate Catalanatto's 2001 season a few times (.330/.391/.490), I know I'd be thrilled. Somehow, I think Mets fans are expecting a lot more than that and could be set up for a big disappointment. If Murphy fails, Sheffield gives them a lottery ticket, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a dead cat bounce in him. And even if he slightly improves on his 2008 performance, there is a decent chance he puts up a better line than Murphy, Church and Tatis. Because of his defense, you don't want Sheff to play him everyday. But if he turns out to be the best hitter of that group of corner guys (which shouldn't surprise anyone), you need to find a way to get him some ABs.
4) He's basically free: Sheffield is getting paid $400,000. That is nothing by MLB standards. If it turns out he is done, or is being such a pain in the ass that he is no longer worth keeping around, you let him go. The only prospect who he could be blocking is Nick Evans, but I think it's smart for the Mets to let Evans play in Triple-A for a while to see if he can improve against righthanded pitching. He's probably just going to be a platoon player, but they might as well see if he can be anything more before making him strictly a platoon player at the age of 23. It's unlikely, but might as well give him a chance to enhance his value while seeing if Sheff can have one more season in which he slugs above .450. If he does, he's the Mets' best bat off of the bench.
Disclaimer: My belief that this is a good move is predicated on the Mets waiving Anderson when they activate Livan Hernandez to be their fifth starter. If, for some ungodly reason, they keep Anderson and demote Jeremy Reed, this becomes a questionable (and possibly bad) move.
Here’s hoping I can get Mets fans to step back off the proverbial ledge with this list of reasons explaining why this is a good idea.
1) Sheffield is much, much better than Marlon Anderson: Here’s the thing about Anderson, he seems like a great guy. In fact, I’m almost sure he is. The problem is that he is no longer a good baseball player. I'm not sure he ever was. The 35-year-old has a .265/.314/.391 career line, and he hit .210/.255/.275 last year in 151 at-bats. And yes, the Mets were entering the season with the plan being him as their top pinch-hitter. Sheffield hit .225/.326/.400 last year, and just .237 on balls in play. That's incredibly low. And coupled with the fact that he is coming to a weaker league, there is reason to believe he will end up looking a lot better than his 2008 line suggests. If you replace Anderson with Sheffield on the bench, that's an improvement. I recognize that Sheff's defense is brutal, but it's not like Anderson has any defensive value. Last year he played 25 games in left, six at first and one at second. He's a utilityman without any utility. At least Sheff is a threat to drive the ball. Marlon is a threat to drive me absolutely insane if I have to continually watch him ground meekly to first like he did against the Reds in the opener.
2) The Mets lean left, and not in a New York Times sort of way: The Mets currently employ lefthanded hitters at first base (Carlos Delgado), left field (Dan Murphy) and right field (Ryan Church). All of these guys are either mediocre (Delgado), unproven (Murphy) or bad (Church) against lefthanded pitching. Furthermore, they have a number of bench bats (Anderson, Jeremy Reed and Alex Cora) who also hit lefty. Bringing in Sheffield gives them a much more balanced bench, and allows them to use him in tandem with Fernando Tatis to mix and match in the outfield corners and at first. In the National League, this gives them a lot of flexibility.
3) Murphy might not be all that: Mets fans are all fired up about Murphy, but I think we should still be a little skeptical. He clearly has a very patient approach at the plate, but it's unclear if there is more to him than that. There is a good chance he hits roughly .280/.360/.400 for his career, and that's not bad. However, you'd typically like more from your leftfielder than that. I was talking to my friend Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus, and he thinks Murphy is going to be the next Frank Catalanatto. I think that's fair. Now if Murphy can replicate Catalanatto's 2001 season a few times (.330/.391/.490), I know I'd be thrilled. Somehow, I think Mets fans are expecting a lot more than that and could be set up for a big disappointment. If Murphy fails, Sheffield gives them a lottery ticket, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a dead cat bounce in him. And even if he slightly improves on his 2008 performance, there is a decent chance he puts up a better line than Murphy, Church and Tatis. Because of his defense, you don't want Sheff to play him everyday. But if he turns out to be the best hitter of that group of corner guys (which shouldn't surprise anyone), you need to find a way to get him some ABs.
4) He's basically free: Sheffield is getting paid $400,000. That is nothing by MLB standards. If it turns out he is done, or is being such a pain in the ass that he is no longer worth keeping around, you let him go. The only prospect who he could be blocking is Nick Evans, but I think it's smart for the Mets to let Evans play in Triple-A for a while to see if he can improve against righthanded pitching. He's probably just going to be a platoon player, but they might as well see if he can be anything more before making him strictly a platoon player at the age of 23. It's unlikely, but might as well give him a chance to enhance his value while seeing if Sheff can have one more season in which he slugs above .450. If he does, he's the Mets' best bat off of the bench.
Disclaimer: My belief that this is a good move is predicated on the Mets waiving Anderson when they activate Livan Hernandez to be their fifth starter. If, for some ungodly reason, they keep Anderson and demote Jeremy Reed, this becomes a questionable (and possibly bad) move.
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