Never a particularly consistent writer on the site to start, I’ve found it nearly impossible to contribute in any way over the past three months. Generally, between my own articles, I will read the site comprehensively, including the Readers’ Posts, and comment where I find it appropriate or - if someone is being especially daft - necessary. Just like any other citizen in this little electronic hamlet, I enjoy the day-to-day interactions with not only the namesake, but the other writers and readers who contribute here.
My absence (I’m sure the leading concern at the front of everyone’s brain) had nothing to do with the site, and I have seen upon my return that it remains as lively and thought-provoking as ever. The truth is that, by the time the playoffs rolled around, I was tired, just plain exhausted, by even the thought of caring about baseball. Even the knowledge that the season had finally reached its pivotal month couldn’t overcome or delay my “doneness,” for lack of a better word, or simply the lack of an actual word. I was finished, spent, broken and beat. And so I McNabb’d the playoffs, took a minor sabbatical from the site, and tried to recover.
Baseball fandom is the most difficult of fandoms. Starting with Spring Training in February and ending with the World Series in November, the season is as long as any other sport’s, with nearly twice the number of games. Keeping tabs on starting pitchers, injury updates, days off and lineup changes is a second job for many devoted fans, and one with far fewer vacation days than their first.
Avid fantasy baseball players have it worse, with daily checks on all 30 rosters and start/sit decisions based on splits, weather and long-term flexibility. This doesn’t even account for the offseason, an ever-growing but nebulous vortex defined only by its ability to swallow the months of December and January, and along with them rationality, tempered expectations and the hopes of small-market teams with penny-pinching owners.
Still, fans get accustomed to this. The boom-bust cycle of the season – a big series against hated rivals followed by an opposite coast swing against those teams whose starting pitchers you can’t quite name - allows fans a few sprinkled respites over the long months. Teams (real and fantasy) run away with divisions, or fall hopelessly behind, and the constant focus on the here-and-now relents and realigns toward the playoffs, or next year. You find ways to take a break, to relax in the flow of the season; you get used to the constancy and, in doing so, you overcome the difficulty.
What you don’t get used to, and what you can’t easily overcome, is the heartbreak that comes with the depressingly frequent reminders that baseball isn’t a magical sport. It doesn’t escape the same limitation that plagues every other game. It doesn’t because it can’t; escape is cut off by its very structure. Baseball, like any other game, needs players. And baseball players, despite what this episode of TV may have suggested, have always been human beings.
Human beings do a lot of messed-up crap to each other. They actually do far worse than that, but I’ve always been under the impression that this is a family website, so for now, they do “messed-up crap.” They routinely do the worst stuff to the people closest to them, the people who arguably matter the most. I have what most consider a pessimistic view on life and humanity, so to me this supposed pattern of “hurting the ones you love” is really just a logical mistake. Humans will hurt anyone around them, and will do it unchecked for as long as possible. The fact is “loved ones” are the easiest targets, due to geography and a willingness to suffer indignities the longest. We confuse opportunity with motive all the time, no different here.[1]
Yes, I know, I must be an absolute delight to have around at parties. Still, expecting the worst in people doesn’t stop me from enjoying them, wanting to spend time with them, or loving them. If anything, it’s a boon, because I can look past the flaws I expect to be there anyway, and appreciate all the positive qualities. The only flaw I have never been able to get past, really, is hypocrisy. I know you’re messed up, you know you’re messed up, let’s not pretend.
I get to cheer for A-Rod and Barry Bonds without guilt, while hating the hero worship that surrounds Lance Armstrong.[2] Steroid use is fine, but lying about it (I’m looking at you, every NFL player, coach, owner and fan) is not. All in all, it generally makes my life as a fan easier, not harder, when I know to expect and can anticipate human failures.
But I’m not always that strong on people being weak, and occasionally I fall from my lofty throne of “Everyone Sucksdom.” I’ll find someone so seemingly innocent and fun that it’s nearly impossible not to fall in love with them and trust them implicitly, against all of my above misgivings. And that’s how I ended up with a Miguel Cabrera jersey and a broken heart.
Cabrera came up in 2003 as a 20 year old LF, helping the Marlins complete their second “Win the Series, not the Division” iteration in six years. He’s never missed an MVP ballot or a meal; the first “necessitating” a move to a team with deeper pockets, the second a move to third base, and then first base (and eventually, probably, DH). Still, he always looked like he was having fun, and excelled while doing it. He was a less annoying Pedro, a Pujols with personality. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to purchase a New York Yankees jersey for my wife with the ever clever “Wang” on the back, and because it was a 2-for-1 sale, I had to make a selection for myself. I chose MigCab (I call him MigCab because I’m an incredibly lazy nicknamer) and, to this day, his is the only jersey I’ve ever owned.
I won’t rehash the first weekend of October, or speculate on things we don’t know about, and likely never will. Mostly, I don’t feel like typing the word “allegedly” over and over again. I’ve heard the 911 call,[3] read the necessary stories and made the mostly small logical leaps. You can do the same for yourself. I don’t think any of us are coming out of that with a rosy picture of one Miguel Cabrera, as a husband, teammate or person.
Like I said before, usually this stuff doesn’t bother me. I tend not to make light of the most horrible of things (no Brett Myers jokes, for instance), but I don’t take them personally, either. I let myself slip on Cabrera, though, and I paid the price for it (missing what was, by most accounts, an interesting postseason, if not a great one). It’s my fault that I got so torn up about something so disappointingly common, and I should have known better, but by the time I was able to stomach the thought of baseball players again, the playoffs were over. Thankfully, instead of the long wait until pitchers and catchers, I was offered a unique chance to enjoy baseball in a way that has put me back on the path, albeit with one fewer article of clothing.
If you were going to construct a new analytic which would measure the ratio of impact on the game against the attendant amount of press coverage, I believe you would be hard-pressed to find a better contender for the crown than regional sports networks (RSNs), especially the new variety of RSN owned by teams. Generally the sole purveyor of the local nine’s games, and cash cows for owners and teams alike, RSNs go a long way in determining not only how a team is portrayed to the fan base, but also in determining how successful the team actually is. They are also frequently overlooked when discussions about relative team success, parity or economics are held. A strong case can be made, for instance, that Cablevision and YES have as much, if not more, to do with the Yankees success over the past fifteen years than Cashman, Steinbrenner or Captain Jetes.[4]
One of the positive (depending on perspective, naturally) externalities of Peter Angelos holding MLB over a barrel in the Washington Nationals debockery[5] was the creation of an RSN for both the Orioles and Nationals: the Mid-Atlantic Sports Network (MASN). MASN is a weird conglomeration of interests that, at the very least, is aptly-named. Between the main station and its spillover (MASN 2), the network airs every Orioles and Nationals game, with most of those broadcast in HD.
MASN broadcasts preseason games for the Ravens, as well as near round-the-clock coverage of the team during football season. The only real exceptions seem to be on nights when either Georgetown, George Mason or UNC-Wilmington have basketball games. To complete the roster, the network airs the Big East Game of the Week in both major sports and acts as the official cable network of the Big South Conference.
MASN delivers me two separate benefits, if you can call them that: first, on most nights during the summer, I have the option of three different baseball games (Orioles, Nationals and Phillies). Second, MASN provides a constant reminder that lawyers educated in Maryland can still make millions on the backs of the stupid and the poor. No one is better at transferring money from an evil corporation (Big Tobacco, MLB) to himself at the expense of the largely innocent victims (smokers, the Expos/Nationals) of those corporations than one Peter Angelos.
While MASN remains the official network of both teams, it would be foolhardy to suggest that the Orioles and the Nationals are equally advantaged. First, the Orioles own a vast majority of the network,[6] and thus, make a vast majority of the money that RSNs typically bring in to the teams which own them. If anyone were actually watching Nationals games,[7] the Orioles would be the ones profiting. Second, the exposure that each team gets is as uneven as watchdog groups and Nationals backers will allow. MASN hired nationally renowned broadcaster Gary Thorne to do Orioles games; the Nationals get Rob Dibble, who takes every opportunity, whether logical or not, to bash the team. When available, the Orioles play on MASN and MASN HD; the Nationals get even uglier in non-HD MASN2.[8] The MASN website is an Orioles FanFest, pausing to mention Nationals games in the area right above the contact information for the webmaster.
In any event, MASN has some problems. Still, for all the bad (whether intentional or not), there is some good, and a promising future. The network does a laudable job of reaching out to fans, especially fans of two franchises that have been horrible for the entirety of the network’s existence. Among the various ploys include trivia, emails and other interaction with announcers during (usually unwatchable) games, MASN-produced pre- and post-game shows which give fans an eye and an ear inside each team’s respective clubhouses, and even commercials starring real fans, with real stories.
Sometimes, however, you need something more, especially when fans get tired of losing. MASN did what so many others have done to turn bad, boring baseball into something exciting that would keep fans excited and, more importantly for the network, tuned in: they went fantasy. During the second half of last season, they began a fantasy-style game, which required roster manipulation with salary cap considerations. The game was open to anyone who registered on their website, with prizes given out on a weekly, as well as season-long, basis. MASN leveraged its position to provide excellent prizes for the contest, with each week’s highest scorer getting a prize pack featuring a signed photo from one of the players, as well as other team gear and regalia. I was the high scorer in one week, netting me an Orioles fleece blanket, a few baubles and a 5’’ x 8” of Adam Jones with his signature and a certificate of authenticity. I was legitimately disappointed the two weeks I came in second, mere points away from additional swag.
My three high finishes in the 10 week game did allow me to coast into the season-long prizes. In fact, I finished as the top scorer overall, a distinction for which there was no actual benefit. MASN had structured the game so that the top 5 scoring fans of each team (that is, the top 5 scoring players who had designated themselves Orioles fans at the start, and the top five Nats designators) would be the winners. This, in itself, was an interesting strategy point that people generally overlooked, as the number of Orioles fans in the contest greatly outnumbered the Nats-flavored contestants, giving the latter a huge advantage.
As it turned out, the advantage mattered, though not to me. The top 8 scorers were all Orioles competitors, meaning that at least three individuals ended up being jumped by lower scorers when it came time for the prize allocation. And the prize was not something to be missed: a lunch meeting at the local ESPN Zone with the manager of your respective team, hosted and paid for by MASN. In the future, I imagine that MASN will fix this inequity, but enough about the losers, onto the story of my victory and ultimate redemption![9]
Dave Trembley has survived premature rumours of his demise for approximately eighteen months now, and remains (at least as of this writing) the manager of the Baltimore Orioles. Before that, he was the rare minor league manager who excelled for an extended period of time (named one of the five best MiLB managers of the past twenty years by Baseball America in 2001) without getting a shot at the Bigs. My friend, who had met him years earlier when Trembley was managing in Harrisburg and my friend merely surviving there, claimed he was a stand-up guy and very open.
Yet, I wasn’t terribly excited about the lunch. I was a few months into my Cabrera-fueled blahfest, and the idea of hanging around star struck fans and what I expected to be a heavily managed manager made me consider ditching. Still, I needed to eat lunch, and I like Pop-A-Shot, so I gussied up and left my office for what I assumed would be an hour I’d later regret.
Pretty much from the get-go, I knew I had been wrong. We four winners (one couldn’t make it, on account of his being from California) were ushered into a private room, given menus and told to order anything we want. +1, MASN, well-played. Meanwhile, Trembley sauntered in, fresh-faced and tan, and proceeded to spend the next ninety minutes showing us behind the curtain. The sometimes sordid and ugly, but always very interesting, behind the curtain. It probably helped that the only team presence at the lunch was a MASN blogger, who probably ranks slightly below the assistant to the groundskeeper in the Orioles hierarchy, but once he got started, Trembley didn’t stop blowing up players’ and owner’s spots until we simply had no more questions.
Adam Jones? Trembley thinks he’ll develop more power, eventually become a number 5 hitter who fields his position well. He also thinks that he’s got a future as a clubhouse leader, but for now is a little mouthy and in no way deserved the Gold Glove he received.
Felix Pie? No real future with the team outside of defensive replacement, despite his constant improvement throughout the year, according to the manager. Trembley is much more in love with Nolan Reimold, and believes he will be the answer that makes Pie and Luke Scott redundant.
And we were just getting started. Trembley hurled grenades at players past, current and future alike. We had a lengthy chat about Daniel Cabrera, the enigmatic starting pitcher that was so bad, the Nationals let him midway through 2009. Constantly teasing Baltimore with his overpowering fastball and sheer size, he also soured the organization with some of his more annoying traits. Like not being able to throw that fastball for a strike. Or not having a second pitch. Or, according to Trembley, throwing at people out of turn and juicing like crazy.
Trembley recounted a game against Boston where Cabrera seemingly went out of his way to bean a player. Previously chastised for similar actions, Cabrera shook off Trembley when the manager came out to question his pitcher, which eventually got Daniel pulled. Trembley had previously attempted to explain to Cabrera that his actions only ended up hurting the team, and specifically Brian Roberts and Nick Markakis, who would inevitably be fired at the next time they came to the plate. Cabrera didn’t care, and noted this fact to Trembley. Cabrera was gone at the end of the year. Trembley blamed steroids, in part.
He laid into Danys Baez and Kameron Mickolio, both of who refused to enter consecutive games at times throughout the season, hamstringing the manager in managing a bullpen, which would have been less important had the Orioles had any starting pitching. Instead, the Orioles had guys like Jeremy Guthrie, who Trembley characterized simultaneously as “a good guy” and “more stubborn than a mule.” Apparently, Guthrie refuses to recognize that his fastball is not good enough to beat guys up, leading to quite a few moon shots. Moreover, he refuses to intentionally walk players, and has, on more than one occasion, challenged a player whom he was ordered to walk. Usually with that below average fastball. Usually with poor consequences. I got the feeling that Trembley couldn’t wait for the Matusz-Tillman-Erbe-Arrieta-Hobgood era to begin.
Brian Roberts is probably the closest thing to a star this team has had for a while. Markakis and Wieters are gaining ground, but for most people, the little guy at 2B is still the figurative and literal cornerstone of the team.[10] Those lucky enough not to follow the Orioles probably missed a minor flare-up during last season, centered on the diminutive switch-hitter. Longish story short, he made a couple of boneheaded base running errors, which only served to emphasize how frequently the team as a whole made those same errors. He was benched for a game, and eventually everything went back to normal. During our lunch, Trembley told us that Roberts admitted to dogging it for a couple of days, apologized and promised to get his head back in the game. And he did. Trembley seemed genuinely appreciative of the honesty and said he felt bad for sitting Roberts.
After airing various grievances about current players, Trembley moved on to the future, and made plugs for some unexpected free agents. A big believer in the development of Josh Bell and Brandon Snyder, Trembely told us he had been pushing for a short-term corner fix, and even name-dropped Hank Blalock. Even more surprising was his willingness…hell, his strong desire to be reunited with Erik Bedard. Bedard made his name for the Orioles and his trade secured them two major pieces of their future (Jones and Tillman)and a third man (George Sherrill) that was eventually traded for another (Josh Bell). Still, he also earned his reputation for being oft injured (and generally soft) here. To hear any manager excited about possibly adding him was odd; to hear it from an Orioles manager on thin ice, whose job could be put in peril by a flaky number one starter, was almost surreal.
As you might know, the Orioles instead eventually traded for Kevin Millwood, and signed Mike Gonzalez and Garrett Atkins to build a bridge for their youth parade. The general reaction to these signings in the sabermetric community has been tepid at best, with mixed feelings about the combination of risk (good, short contracts) and reward (poor upside even in the best situation). I can guarantee you that, if he’s good on his word (and I believe that he is), Trembley read every single reaction and internalized it.
I can guarantee this because he’s a fan. He’s a fan of his team, he’s a fan of his sport, and he’s a fan of this particular community. He loves Bill James (unbidden; I didn’t reveal I wrote here until we were almost finished with the lunch[11]), regularly reads Baseball Prospectus, FanGraphs, Hardball Times and seemingly anything else he can get his hands on about baseball. He genuinely loves the sport, and I get the feeling he is currently employed at his dream job.
In May of last year, a reader asked Bill who he liked among modern managers, and why. Bill chose Dave Trembley, and upon follow-up by a second reader, Bill explained that he thought Trembley seemed to “stay in the game really well.”[12] I think that Trembley would consider that pretty high praise, and I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to tell him that at the lunch. I would say something like “There’s always next year’s awards lunch to do it,” but (a) fantasy is a fickle mistress and (b) if I were a betting man (and I am) and this were a possible bet (and it’s not, yet), I would wager that Trembley will not finish out this year with the team.
If I am correct in that belief, it will be unfortunate. It’s difficult to watch someone work their entire life to reach their goal, and then have it slip away, regardless of reason or fault. It’s more difficult when that person seems like a nice man, an honest person with a real zeal for what they do. Still, he’s in a rough situation, and he’s exactly the kind of guy who gets fired from a job like that. He speaks his mind and the truth, two things that are hard to hear from a manager for a losing team.
I am sure that, whenever his time with the Orioles ends, he will land on his feet. Baseball is better with people like him around. People who know the sport, who love the sport and whose love for the sport is so contagious, it can overcome the bitter ennui of a jaded fan in the course of one lunch.[13]
[1] It’s a problem related very much to what Bill talks about plaguing criminal investigation in the middle of last century. People had/have difficulty conceptualizing randomized evil or doing wrong to strangers, and so cops look for someone who knows the victim. Just because people get in the vast majority of automobile accidents within five miles of their house doesn’t mean those roads are naturally more treacherous…
[2] I don’t even care that he may have been juicing (which I firmly believe he was). I do care that he treats women like the water bottles on his bike, drinking them up for emotional succor and then throwing them away when he’s finished with them and they start weighing him down. Yet no one says a thing. Class act. I also hate Sally Jenkins, so it’s possible that I’m biased here.
[3] Never, ever listen to 911 calls stemming from domestic disputes. They’re horrible, humanity at its absoluite lowest. On my current assignment, I work at an Emergency Operations Center, which also houses the 911 call center. The lady in the office next to me has, as part of her daily job, the responsibility to transcribe emergency calls for court hearings and criminal trials. She cries at least two or three times daily, and she’s been in the position for four years. You can never get used to it.
[4] Although a case can also be made that all that money doesn’t mean a thing if you don’t have a Stein, Cash or Jetes to release it, to spend it wisely or to spend it wisely on, respectively. Cf. SNY and Wilpon, Minaya, and Jason Bay.
[5] Debacle + Mockery = Debockery
[6] When it first aired, MASN was 90% owned by the Orioles, 10% by the Nationals/MLB. When the Nationals were sold, the Lerners received that 10%, which can grow over time. But only ever to a max of 33% of the network.
[7] Hilarious take on this here. The numbers have skyrocketed since then…up 56%. Of course, that still puts them so far in last place that their viewership could double again, and they’d remain in last. And that jump was during a year where attendance at the gate dropped precipitously, theoretically sending more possible viewers home to their televisions.
[8] MASN has decided to add a second HD channel at some point this year. I can only assume it will be used to show precisely how poorly Adam Dunn reacted to a batted ball right at him.
[9] Place where I did not experience victory or redemption: BJOL Fantasy League. Congratulations to reader ventboys, who won a hotly contested race with alljoeteam, edging him by 7 points. That’s, uh, 7 points out of a combined 38,647 (19327-19320). If AJT’s team had recorded one more double, over the entire season, he would have won. The league will begin again this year, and deadweight will be replaced by new blood. Stay tuned….
[10] Not a literal cornerstone. Really just two types of figurative cornerstone.
[11] He actually flew up from his home in Daytona for the lunch, and then back afterwards. That’s some dedication…or some string he’s on.
[12] Alright, I’ve already told you someone asked Bill in May of last year. So go to the May 2009 Hey Bill section of the site, hit CTRL-F and search for “Tremb.” And there you go.
[13] Sorry for the length.
/That’s what he said