Typical Twins

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The Twins offense had an unusually good night against the Tampa Bay Rays last night: Nunez had two hits, two stolen bases and two runs, although his ground-ball double play with the bases loaded in the fifth was the decisive losing moment. Joe Mauer had two singles with men in scoring position, although only one scored and the game was out of reach by then. Brian Dozier had two hits – best of all a rare double to rightfield, albeit on a weak swing. And even Byron Buxton had a two-hit game and showed off his speed on the bases. Max Kepler made two plays in right that Sano would not have. The Twins and Rays both had 11 hits. Four of the Rays’ hits, though, were home runs.

On the negative side, Trevor Plouffe batted cleanup and was a black hole, where all rallies went to die. He swung Dozier-like, pulling everything and looking frustrated. Worse, he’s hitting .245, 100 points below Danny Valencia, a Twin discard who is alive in Oakland. I hope it has become as clear to the Minnesota front office as it is to me that Sano has to be the Twins third baseman of the future – with a possible shift to first when Mauer is gone. This was to be the year that Plouffe and Dozier reached their primes and carried the team. Both have flopped, and a new direction is required.

Steph Curry

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When most people shoot a jump shot, they pause for a split second at the top of their jump before releasing the ball. By the time Steph Curry reaches his apogee, the ball is seemingly already well on its way. His motion slightly resembles that of a shot-putter, although the shot-putter is large and ungainly, while the Golden State Warrior is slight and smooth as proverbial silk. His shot arcs higher in the air than normal, and perhaps for this reason when it falls through the basket the entry looks different, like a high diver slicing into the water on a perfect dive. Or maybe his shots are more in the basket’s center.

Style is merely the start of what distinguishes Curry’s shot. They almost all are launched behind the three-point line (but you knew that), and often are well beyond. Even when Curry shoots from midcourt or beyond at the end of a quarter, the crowd holds its collective breath. And as we have just witnessed in the final two games of the Western Conference Championships against Oklahoma City, an inordinate number of his baskets are clutch. Curry has tied each game, put his team ahead and nailed the coffin with dagger three-pointers that are demoralizing to the opponent well beyond the points added to the score.

Curry is not just a sharpshooter; if that were all he would scarcely rise above his teammate Klay Thompson, who is also a top five three-point shooter. Curry is the best dribbler in the game and a magician on short shots. When he goes to the basket he is met by taller, longer, heftier defenders, yet he regularly gets his shot away – whether it be a floater, scoop, reverse layup or high bank – and it usually goes in. His dribbling skill and quick feet also enable him to free himself for three-point shots, something almost no one else in the NBA does – catch-and-shoot being the standard procedure.

A final point in Curry’s favor is his engaging demeanor. His supreme confidence doesn’t come off as cocky, partly because of his baby-face, partly because everyone around him is so much bigger. He holds his mouthguard between his teeth, draped outside his lips; he punctuates his threes, when appropriate, with a fist clench or even watches them from a crouch; he waves to the crowd to ramp up their enthusiasm. He is the cool customer, the cool assassin.

Games 6 and 7 were the first NBA games I watched this year, and I picked two good ones. The Warriors were seemingly overmatched in the first half each time, as the Thunder controlled the rebounds and had two unstoppable forces in Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook. But once Thompson in the first game and Curry in the second started hitting implausible threes, you could see the Thunder spirits flag and their stars try to do too much. By the end of each game they had not just lost but were defeated. Analytically, a break here or there would seem to have been all they needed to change the outcome; but you got the feeling that somehow the Warriors, and above all Curry, wouldn’t let that happen.

I have no idea how the Warriors will do against LeBron James and the Cavaliers. For the sake of the city of Cleveland, I wouldn’t feel too bad should the Cavs prevail, and I worry that their more muscular play will be a challenge.  But my rooting interest will remain with the Warriors, to reward both their record-setting season and the beauty of their game. When Shaquille O’Neal played I couldn’t wait for him to retire, I so disliked the brute force he brought to the game. The basketball played by Curry and Thompson represents the opposite end of the spectrum and is thrilling to watch.

Twins Preview

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Any prediction for 2016 must first acknowledge that I wrote off the Twins’ 2015 season after one horrible week, only to see them vying for a playoff spot with a week to play. One of the pleasures of baseball is the length, and corresponding unpredictably, of the season. Key players will suffer injuries and players you haven’t heard of will become important cogs. Last year, for instance, we awaited impact from Byron Buxton and Miguel Sano. The former fizzled, while the latter amazed, but no one predicted the impact of Eddie Rosario, who almost led the league in triples and outfield assists. Who will surprise us this year, and how? That’s the fun – and the reason my ramblings here are nothing but that.

I do like the 2015 Twins chances for two reasons: they seem to have developed a solid pitching rotation that will give them a chance to win (almost) every game, and the Royals have been so good there is a good chance they will flounder. That’s just the way things work in sports. I put a parenthetical “almost” in the above sentence because Rickey Nolasco begins the year as the Twins’ fifth starter. He will not be by the time we get to June, or latest July, but we don’t know whether his spot will be taken by Tyler Duffey (whom no one had heard of last year) or Jose Berrios (the Buxton of pitching). It will be nice if Glen Perkins regains his All-Star form, but Kevin Jepsen is back and something will work out there.

The Twins’ offense is the most formidable of recent memory, although Sano has to prove himself over a full season. Being overweight and playing out of position are red flags, to be sure. It would be especially nice if Buxton can figure out Major League pitching and we can anoint him a worthy successor to Kirby Puckett and Torii Hunter in centerfield and make us look less jealously at the exploits of Denard Span and Ben Revere as they play elsewhere. I am optimistic about Trevor Plouffe as a cleanup hitter and Brian Dozier at leadoff. They have experience and the requisite confidence. The rest of the lineup is serviceable – and this includes former MVP Joe Mauer at first – which, again, is enough to keep the Twins in a lot of games. If Byung Ho Park hits more than 20 homers or Mauer bats over .285 I’ll be okay. Interestingly, the two best Twins in spring training were Danny Santana, who doesn’t have a position, and Darin Mastroianni, who is in the minors. They should get used – but how? Oswaldo Arcia, out of minor league options, is on the roster on a trial basis, and I don’t see how he fits, unless Park or Sano falters.

Perhaps the best news is how young and far from free-agency these Twins are. Mauer, Nolasco and Kurt Suzuki are the only ones on the downslope of their careers. Maybe this will be a run-up year. Maybe they are a Berrios or Max Kepler away from making their run. All I know for sure is that there will be surprises. That’s what makes it fun.

Birds of Panama

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“What was your bird of the day?,” asked someone staying at our lodge, which caught me up short but got me thinking. If I was in Panama not to tally the greatest number of species for a life list but for the birding experience, surely I could remember what sighting brought me the greatest pleasure of the day. Now that I am home, after seven full and three half-days of birding, I will try to use this template as an aide-memoire of the trip.

Day 1: We took a tour of Panama City and didn’t pay attention to birds until our lunch stop on Amador Island, looking over the Pacific. In the distance, amid the much larger pelicans, gulls and terns, were a half-dozen smaller, darker grey birds, gracefully keeping their own company: Black Terns.

Day 2: Our first afternoon tour at Canopy Lodge in Vallee was marred by our guide’s non-stop whistling, which failed to attract any birds but annoyed me so much I slid off on my own. As the group returned to the van and I lagged behind, I heard chipping from the shrubs along the road and eventually tracked it to a small, striking bird with a rufous cap and ear patch surrounding a white eye-line. Not only was the bird cute, it was easy to identify as a Rufous-capped Warbler. We would see it a lot during our stay, and the sight was always welcome.

Day 3: I spent this day around the Lodge. In the morning at a woodland spot where they dumped fruit rinds daily, I first spotted the Orange-billed Sparrow. In the afternoon at the same location, Karen from Denmark and I watched as the large Grey-necked Wood-Rail clumped into view. Both were surprising and distinctive.

Day 4: An all-day trip to the Caribbean Slope proved a slow morning, but when we stopped in a small town for our picnic lunch we looked down on a tree with red pear-like fruits and a mass of birds jumping between the ground, the tree and a fence at its base. I asked our guide, Danilo Jr., what are those smallish, bright-green birds with black smudges on their cheeks. Emerald Tanagers, almost the last of the 15 tanager species that brightened our trip at every turn.

Day 5: In the morning, a grey, rainy day, we hiked uphill through fields and woods, fighting for every bird. At one large expanse there was nothing to see, absolutely nothing, but then in plain view, in full song, appeared a single Wedge-tailed Grass-Finch. Nondescript in color, as the name “Grass-Finch”* implies, it had a long pointed tail, the length of its body, and it gave us front and back views for as long as we wanted to watch. In the afternoon we were led to the scouted location of a Spectacled Owl. While I normally don’t like being spoon-fed, I would otherwise never see owls, and this fellow, with his rich cream breast and distinguished white spectacles, was one of the more majestic birds I have ever seen.

Day 6. Our second all-day tour was to the “Lowlands,” near the Pacific Coast. My favorite bird of the morning was the Rusty-margined Flycatcher, not because of any inherent qualities of the bird but because I labored so hard to identify it on my own. It is the spitting image of the more common Social Flycatcher: the latter shows faint traces of wingbars, while the former has no wingbars and a faint rust color on its secondary wing feathers (the “margin” of its name). After working so hard, I felt proprietary about the bird for the rest of the trip. For our lunch stop, we descended on the beach house of Snr. Raul, the Canopy owner. Amid a large group of Sandwich Terns stood a single Elegant Tern, a “rare migrant” that our guides did not expect to see. It recalled to me the many hours I’ve spent on Sands Beach in Santa Barbara, learning to distinguish Elegants from Royal Terns, and to clinch the identification there was also a single, much larger and thicker-billed Royal Tern standing nearby.

Day 7. Before leaving Canopy Lodge I got one more good look at the Bay Wren. It was the loudest singer for our whole visit, and while it would more often be hidden than visible it eventually became a common sight. Its sharply contrasting black-and-white face and bright rusty body was quite a departure from the wrens of North America. In the afternoon, on our first tour from Canopy Tower, we had a similar experience laboring to locate a calling White-throated Crake in a bed of water hyacinth – only to see it parading openly on a limb two days later.

Day 8. In the morning we walked down Semaphore Hill from the Tower, picking birds here and there from the forest around us and the canopy above. As we waited at the bridge for the van to pick us up for lunch, I found our Holy Grail, the Red-capped Manakin, sensational in its smallness and simplicity. Until that point, the Crimson-crested Woodpecker was the star. Our afternoon on the grounds of Gamboa Resort with guide Michael was somewhat desultory, enlivened by the surprising, brief, consecutive appearances of a Cinnamon Becard and a White-winged Becard; so I will here acknowledge the one good look we took of the White-throated Ibis, never before recorded in Panama but for more than a week camped out on the mudflat below the rattly bridge crossing the Chagres River.

Day 9. Gary and I asked to spend two mornings on Pipeline Road, the most famous birding spot in Panama, and we asked to start at the “far” end – actually only the far end of the road cleared for birding. What we got was a lot of dense second-growth forest, with few birds and those hard to see. Perhaps, however, it was worth it for the extended look we had of the Streak-chested Antpitta, strutting and puffing on the forest floor, carrying itself like a baby Snowy Plover. In the afternoon, in compensation, we hit a gold mine of a tree in the parking lot below Summit Pond – with species after species landing on its leafless branches. There was a surprising delegation from North America of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, warblers and a rare Painted Bunting (with colors more at home here than in Georgia), but I was most struck by a Purple-crowned Fairy, the largest, purest and most elegant of the eight hummingbirds we saw this day.

Day 10. Our second morning on Pipeline Road was more productive, largely because we worked its start, which was more open (if more crowded). Whereas most of the other birds I’ve cited so far are ones I located by myself – which adds to the pleasure I take – it was next to impossible to find the secretive, dull-colored species that populate the Panamanian forest. Here our guide, who could recognize the quietest sound and know where to look, was essential. Amid the various antshrikes, antpittas, antthrushes, antvireos, antbirds and antwrens (not that I saw examples of each), my favorite encounter was with a family of Song Wrens, patrolling the forest floor, tossing leaves that dwarfed their bodies, with a bright chestnut throat that jumped out when you could see them. Our last afternoon we went back to Gamboa Resort and hung out at the marina, where we added waterbirds to our list: Limpkin, Purple Gallinule, Black-bellied Whistling Duck. Oddly, however, the last bird we spotted and my favorite was a land bird, the Streaked Flycatcher. Although they went by different names – tyrants, tyrannulets, eleanias, flatbills, pewees, etc. – there were 34 flycatchers on my trip list before I saw one that had a streaked breast. And after all the colorful birds, it was a different kind of pleasure to soak in the subtle browns and rusts on its wings and back. It sat on a low limb, undisturbed, while we took turns at the scope, although it wasn’t far away. Upon counting, it proved to be bird number 270, ending our day, as so often happens in birding, on a high note.

*The bird names we encountered were a frequent source of amusement, if not confusion. To find a bird in the field guide index, it wasn’t enough to hear that it was a “finch” you were seeing, for the bird could as easily be alphabetized under “grass-finch” or “seed-finch.” A flycatcher would not be found under “F” if it were a “tody-flycatcher” or a “scrub-flycatcher.” A hummingbird was rarely called “hummingbird”; instead it was a “jacobin,” “coquette,” “woodnymph,” “mango,” “hermit,” “plumeleteer,” “fairy,” “starthroat” or “thorntail” – and those are just the ones we actually saw. Fortunately, since the guidebook’s publication, the Western Slaty-Antshrike that we frequently encountered and that the Smithsonian is studying on Pipeline has undergone a name change to Black-crowned Antshrike, meaning that in future editions it will be found under “A,” with the other antshrikes, instead of “S.”

Super Bowl Thoughts

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That there was no dominant – or even very good – team in the NFL this year was born out in spades in the lackluster performance of both teams in this year’s Super Bowl. At various stages of the season, the experts on ESPN hopefully anointed, respectively, the Packers, the Seahawks, the Steelers, the Patriots and the Cardinals as the potential team to beat – and of course none of them made it to the final Sunday. The fact that the Vikings – a seriously mediocre team – made the playoffs and almost beat the eventual champion Broncos confirms the underwhelming quality of play this year. And while Peyton Manning is being celebrated for winning his second Super Bowl at 39, let’s not forget that the story line for much of the year was, Should he still be playing, and it’s hard to find much to praise in his final performance. His two touchdown “drives” covered a total of 4 yards – half of which came from a debatable penalty – and his interception was a terrible throw.

Instead of being forgettable, the game was set up for a thrilling finish when Carolina got the ball with four minutes left, behind by 6 points. Surely, MVP Cam Newton would assert himself and, finally, lead his squad downfield for a last-minute touchdown. That he was sacked and fumbled made the Denver defense, rightfully, the story of the game. It’s just hard to get excited when the most important statistic is quarterback hurries.

I also haven’t seen enough discussion of the role of the officials, probably because the final score of 24-10 made any one play seem inconsequential.  For myself, I would like to see a column after every game devoted to evaluating the performance of the referee and his team. I can think of three calls that might have made a difference, two of which were shown to be clearly wrong by instant replay. Aqib Talib was about three feet offside on Carolina’s field-goal try that hit the goalpost and bounced wide. Given a rekick from 5 yards closer would, the Panthers would not only have added 3 points at a pivotal moment, they would have added some momentum. As it was, you wonder if the inevitable deflation and slightly worse field position didn’t help the Broncos, who quickly moved into field goal range of their own. Second, interference was not called on the Denver defender (probably Talib again) who had wrapped up Ted Ginn Jr. well before Newton’s third-down pass reached him, thwarting a Carolina drive. The third obviously crucial call was the incomplete ruling on Jerome Crotchery’s bobbling reception that the broadcasters and their in-booth ex-referee expected to be overturned when challenged. Instead, the call was allowed to stand – not “confirmed” – meaning that if the officials had called it complete at the outset the Panthers would have moved out of their own backyard and the subsequent sack-fumble-TD recovery would not have happened.

The other obvious consequential blunder that affected the outcome, as opposed to a great play, came when two Carolina defenders thought the Bronco punt returner had called for a fair catch, which he clearly should have, and backed off from a crushing tackle, allowing him to run 61 yards to set up another of Denver’s 3 points. And before I sign off, let me note the numerous off-target passes by Newton. In other words, it was a game of blunders, by players and officials, hardly worthy of a championship contest between the two best the game has to offer.

NFL Thoughts

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1. The Extra Point. In an effort to add interest to the routine extra point after touchdown, the NFL added 23 yards to the length of the kick. This, however, added nothing of interest to the play itself. Yes, the point is more occasionally missed than before – especially by the Vikings’ kicker – but a routine kick is still routine. A field goal, like an extra point, is essentially a boring play, unless it comes at a challenging distance or affects the game’s outcome. If the NFL really wanted to spice up the extra point, it should have either eliminated the kicking option altogether, or moved the starting point closer, to the one-yard line for instance, to encourage an actual play that could be defended.

2. Why I Like the Jets. My antipathy toward New York teams was tested this fall by the Mets’ run to the World Series, fueled by their forlorn history, underdog status, low payroll, combination of castoffs and phenoms, and generally subordinate position to the hated Yankees. The Jets stand in the same relation to the New York Giants, including in their home stadium, and the only names I recognize on their roster are players deemed expendable by former employers. Their history of ineptitude, in terms of ownership, management and player personnel, is also well established. The New York press can hardly hide its amazement that it’s the Jets, not the Giants, that are meriting the headlines at the end of this season. More personally, I have a history soft on the Jets, despite their New York advantage. Seeking underdogs from an early age, I adopted the New York Titans as my favorite team, after outgrowing my even earlier infatuation with the Giants of Connerly, Gifford, Rote, Robustelli, Grier, Brown, Huff, et al. Al Dorow became my favorite quarterback until supplanted by Lee Grosscup, and Don Maynard my favorite receiver. The Titans morphed into the Jets, the AFL was absorbed by the NFL and the underdog aura evaporated, but not until Joe Namath, the key transitional figure, upset the Colts in the third Super Bowl. What brings me back to the Jets now is my connection to their three name offensive stars: Ryan Fitzpatrick went to my alma mater, Harvard; Eric Decker was a star for the University of Minnesota (and, frankly, is one of the few star white receivers); and Brandon Marshall shares my family name. Also, until yesterday, it seemed possible that they could finish the season with an 11-5 record and not make the playoffs, while a team from the NFC East could get in with an even, or losing, record.

3. Fantasy Sports Is Gambling. The bane of my NFL fandom is the rise of fantasy sports, specifically the two heavily advertising companies, FanDuel and DraftKing. Not only did their boring and implicitly misleading ads take time away from Geico and the other creative adsters, their product was being taken seriously by ESPN (among others including SI) which was producing shows devoted to the subject, in place of The Sports Reporters, which I can’t find anymore. What bothered me most, though, was the claim that fantasy sports was a contest of skill, not chance, and therefore not subject to every state’s anti-gambling laws. There is more skill in determining the winner of a team contest than in determining how many touchdowns an individual will score, yet betting on the former is universally considered gambling. The matter is now in the courts – many of them – but the case is open-and-shut in my mind.

4. Don’t Some Coaches Ever Learn? Perhaps by now it is widely understood that the only thing a “prevent defense” prevents is the continuing good play of the team employing it. Yet shortly after one terrible defensive ploy was exposed on national TV we saw it being repeated, no lesson learned. Aaron Rodgers beat the Detroit Lions on the game’s final play by throwing a 70-yard Hail Mary pass. How did the Packers have the time to get all their receivers into the end zone and Rodgers have the time and space to uncork his bomb? Because the Lions rushed only three linemen, leaving the rest of their defense to run into each other in the end zone, allowing Green Bay’s Richard Rogers to back into several of them and catch the pass. A few weeks later, the Chiefs were defending against the Ravens with the ball at midfield on the final play of the half and what did they do? They rushed three men (a fourth blitzed later), allowing Raven quarterback Jimmy Clausen to throw a Hail Mary that was caught by his receiver – whether the intended receiver or not we’ll never know – and run in for a touchdown. It seems so obvious: rush the quarterback hard and he won’t have time to throw to the end zone, or if he does, no one will be there to catch it. But in case you ever think NFL coaches are so smart, there was Vikings coach Mike Zimmer electing to run one more play from the Arizona 36-yard line with 12 seconds and no timeouts left instead of kicking a field goal to tie the game. Or, more famously, Pete Carroll trying a pass when the Super Bowl was only a 1-yard run away.

Fantasy Sports

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One of the few good-news stories I have to follow – along with the growth and cementing of gay rights around the country – is the legal offensive against FanDuel and DraftKing, the fantasy sports sites that bombard every sports event with ads that are equally boring and deceptive. There is no question, and the legal inquiries have so established, that almost everyone loses money in these ventures; and the incessant “John Smith has won $100,000” claims may be true for John Smith, but if you think you are the next winner, you are the next sucker.

The fantasy that gets me is the claim that these wagers are not gambling, because they involve an element of skill – or so Congress, in its usual lack of wisdom, decreed. By contrast, betting on the outcome of a game is gambling and is illegal, except in Nevada. There is far more “skill” in guessing which team will win a game than in guessing how many touchdowns a particular individual will score on a given day, yet the former is verboten while the latter is permitted.

I will never bet on a fantasy game, so why should I care? As mentioned, there are those ads, which have none of the wit of Geico spots. Now, the rage is spreading to on-air shows: instead of finding the Sports Reporters on ESPN2 on Sunday, I find a whole half-hour of fantasy tips, and this approach to sports is creeping into SI, as well. Concentrating on individual performances in a team game is a distortion of sport. So, go get ’em, attorneys general!

Game 4

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One beauty of the World Series is that it magnifies baseball, the most analyzable of sports. Every pitch seems to matter, every run is discussable, every move debatable, and last night’s 5-3 Royals win over the Mets was a perfect example.

First, the Mets’ runs: how did Michael Conforto, a rookie who had looked overmatched in every previous game – playing only because Michael Cuddyer looked even worse – suddenly hit two solo home runs and turn, in front of the viewing public, from prospect to future star? Granted, one was off a mediocre get-it-over-first-strike from mild-throwing Chris Young early in the game, but hard-throwing lefty Daniel Duffy should have been on alert when he faced Conforto later in the game – although Duffy hadn’t surrendered a homer to a lefty in about three years and Conforto had never hit one off a lefty.

The Mets’ middle run, which for awhile loomed as the game-winner, was even more baffling. After a rare passed ball by catcher Sal Perez allowed Wilmer Flores to move to third base with one out, Curtis Granderson hit a medium-short fly to right. Alex Rios came loping forward, with perfect position and momentum to gun out Flores at the plate. But he thought there were two outs and the inning would be over; when he heard his teammates’ cries and belatedly threw home it was too late. But was it? The Royals challenged the run, claiming Flores had departed third too early. An agonizing video replay showed Flores’ foot leaving the bag as the ball entered Rios’s glove, but was there a spike still in contact with the bag? Replays were “inconclusive” and the run stood. Of course, it wouldn’t have been fair to disallow a run on such a technicality that had no effect on the play – but then again the Royals had lost a potential first-inning rally when a clear stolen base by Alcides Escobar was turned into a double play on batter’s interference.

The Royals got their runs in their usual way, pecking here, pouncing there. Mets starter Stephen Matz looked untouchable for four innings – but prior Met starters Harvey and DeGrom had also looked unhittable before they didn’t. The Royals don’t seem discouraged by early difficulties, they just keep hacking and eventually got to Matz and his relief help for two runs in the sixth. The commentators questioned not pinch-hitting for Matz when he batted in the fifth, but that overlooked the fact that he is as good a hitter as almost anyone on the bench at that point.

It was the Royals’ four-run 8th inning that turned the game, and probably wrapped up the Series, that is being discussed today, and here every move has its detractors. After reliever Tylar Clippard got one out he walked two batters, albeit on close 3-2 pitches, leading manager Terry Collins to turn to his closer, Jeurys Familia. Why not bring in Familia after the first walk, asked the TV announcer? Why not bring him in to start the inning, asked the morning-after pundits? Collins was roundly chastised for wanting to save Familia so he could also use him in Game 5 tonight. You’ve got to win Game 4 first!, the critics cry. On the other hand, if Familia had gotten five quick outs, Collins’s use would have been considered wise. And furthermore, given Familia’s lack of success – facing four batters, he only retired one – it might not have mattered at what point he entered the game.

The key topic of discussion, however, was the error by Daniel Murphy on the slow grounder from Eric Hosmer, the first batter Familia faced. Did this lose the game – a la Bill Buckner in 19TK? First, let me note it was not a routine play. Murphy had to charge the ball, with a base runner moving in front of him. Although Hosmer is not among the fastest Royals, the team speed they had shown had to subconsciously put pressure on Murphy to rush the play. Nor is it clear to me that had Murphy fielded the ball cleanly he would have gotten Hosmer out. As the announcer commented at the time, Murphy was probably undecided whether he was going to shovel the ball to first with his glove or transfer it to his throwing hand. Either way, it would be tricky for the less-than-adept Murphy and a close play at first.

Even assuming an out is recorded at first, there are runners at second and third, both of whom would have scored on Moustakas’s ensuing ground ball single to right, let alone the following line drive to right by Perez. The Royals would have taken a 4-3 lead, and while not as comfortable as the 5-3 margin, there’s no reason to believe it would not have been sufficient for Wade Davis, who shut out the Mets over the last two frames.

Still, it is easier to put the onus on Murphy – especially as he is positioned to bear it. He is the single greatest reason the Mets beat the Dodgers and Cubs and reached the World Series. The amazing achievement of homering in six straight postseason games will be dimmed by the memory of his error, but only slightly. What the Murphy error does do, I predict, is make it easier for Mets management to sever ties when the season ends. They were largely predicted to do so before the postseason began, but Murphy’s heroics might have made it seem heartless to not offer him a contract for next year, despite his journeyman past, his mediocre fielding and baserunning (and, dare I say, religious right-wing opinions, out of place in New York). If anything, his defensive deficiencies were more apparent on the Moustakas single that followed the Hosmer error. Murphy dove and just missed the ground ball, and it’s easy to think of a dozen other second basemen that would have gotten to the ball.

My last thought on the game last night is prompted by the final play, a soft line drive from Lucas Duda that Moustakas caught easily and threw to first to double up Yoenis Cespedes. Cespedes’ sleepwalking at first, on top of his month-long slump, has undoubtedly clouded the Mets’ determination to resign him as a free agent, especially if there are any more Confortos in the wings. But the Royals’ luck was not just Cespedes’ gaffe, but that Duda’s ball was hit directly at Moustakas, the only fielder on the left side of the infield. The Royals have consistently applied a shift against Duda, a power-hitting lefty, moving shortstop Escobar to the other side of second. Duda, however, has hit at least five balls to the left side against the Royals, including three base hits – far more damage than he has done to the right. Why have the Royals not adapted? Furthermore, the Royals, unlike many other major league teams, have left their third baseman by himself on the left, instead of their more agile shortstop. Moustakas has stumbled over a ground ball and had trouble fielding a pop up behind him. Can’t they see that if they choose to continue their shift – which I would advise against – it’s Moustakas who should be moved, not Escobar.

That’s it until tonight’s Game 5…and maybe one or two more.

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The Perfect Playoffs

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A brief blurb on how pleased I am with this year’s baseball playoffs. Getting the Yankees wiped out – and looking particularly feeble – in the play-in game was a treat in itself. Next to depart were the Cardinals, who have won too much, in a colorless fashion, to root for. The fact that it was the wild card Cubs that accomplished the feat only made it sweeter. Toronto was my favorite team of the season’s second half, with their bludgeon baseball and former Twin Chris Colabello; so I thoroughly enjoyed seeing them come from two down to take out the Texas Rangers. Moreover, they did it morality play manner: just when you thought they would lose on an undeserved, freak play – with a return throw from the catcher bouncing off the batter’s bat – they bounced back with a four-run seventh, climaxed by a monstrous home run by Jose “Joey Bats” Bautista. The fact that Elvis Andrus dropped three straight balls to create the rally made you think there was some kind of baseball karma at work.

Kansas City has been a favorite since last year’s playoffs. They play the most entertaining brand of baseball – good defense, basehits from everyone, and a shutdown bullpen – and they are from the Twins’ division. But best of all was the Mets defeating the Dodgers, in Los Angeles, no less. I don’t usually warm to New York teams, but the Mets have been down so long you almost feel sorry for their fans (not their ownership). The Dodgers, meanwhile, are the Yankees West, an overpaid smug bunch. What set me off completely, however, was the Chase Utley slid play, which was not only loathsome in itself (see prior blog), but gave LA a game the Mets c0uld have, if not should have, won. If the Dodgers had gone on to the NLCS because of that, their defeat would have been a moral crusade. As it is, I don’t really have a rooting interest. KC v. Toronto is speed and finesse v. power, a classic confrontation. Mets v. Cubs is a revelatory showdown of great young pitchers v. great young hitters. I hope both series go the distance, by which time I may know whom I’m for. Until then, I will hope every game goes to the home team.

Outrage at Second

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[fusion_text]Previously on this site I have recommended a baseball rule change, requiring a baserunner to slide toward the base he is approaching and awarding a doubleplay when this rule is broken. The urgency of such a rule change increased tonight when a slide that should be illegal not only broke a shortstop’s leg, but changed the outcome of a playoff game.

With runners on first and third, one out and the Dodgers trailing 2-1, Mets second baseman Daniel Murphy fielded a hard shot behind second, tossed the ball to shortstop Ruben Tejada who reached backward for the ball, pirouetted and started to throw to first. Dodger runner Chase Utley, however, ignored second base and instead slid into Tejada well off the bag. In fact, and this should’ve been important, Utley did not even touch second base. His slide was late, starting only when reaching the bag, and wide.

Not only did the tying run score from third, the replay official noted that Tejada’s toe did not quite reach the base and so he ruled Utley safe, ruling that when an umpire makes an incorrect call on the field, the runner should be placed where he would have been had the correct call been made. Why anyone could think that Utley would have been at second if the umpire had not signaled him out is astonishing. It was just as likely, had the umpire signaled “safe,” that Tejada would have tagged Utley, who had overslid the base by several feet. Unless, of course, the replay official was factoring in Tejada’s broken leg, which he could not have known about at the time of his decision.

Under my proposed rule, a double play would have been awarded and none of the Dodgers’ four runs that inning would have scored. Maybe the Mets wouldn’t have held onto the 2-1 lead for another inning, but they should have had the chance.

The game announcers never really came to grips with this issue. Cal Ripken, surprisingly for a former shortstop, didn’t see anything wrong with Utley’s late slide. Ron Darling, former pitcher, faulted the slide, but with hesitation, while the play-by-play man, not a former player, deferred. No one took on the absurd conclusion that Utley “would have been at second” absent the incorrect out call. The postgame announcers were wildly out of their depth on the subject: I’m sure TBS did not expect to be holding hearings on rules interpretations when they signed up Pedro Martinez, Gary Sheffield and Dusty Baker to be their analysts.

I will look for more informed comment in the newspapers tomorrow, but my conclusion is clear and firm: the takeout slide at second – or any base – has no place in today’s game of baseball. The runner’s sole purpose can only be reaching his base safely. If he hits a fielder in the course of that aim, so be it; but he must not be allowed to interfere with the fielder, let alone attack him dangerously, if the fielder is not in his way as he goes to the base. You can’t run into a fielder who is fielding a batted ball; the catcher can’t block the plate without the ball; a runner can’t intentionally knock the ball out of the fielder’s glove – let’s make it consistent and rule that the runner can’t slide into a fielder if he is not going for the base. Period.[/fusion_text]