He’s A Five-Tool Player…Except For The “Five-” Part. Aaaaaand The “Player” Part.
“Omar Moreno better not be ganking my Fruit Roll-Ups. I will break a bitch’s neck, I swear to God.”
A trifecta of interesting A-Rod reading for you: ESPN.com’s Jerry Crasnick on the five big questions for the off-season — and #1 is where A-Rod will end up; the recent New Yorker profile of Scott Boras; and the following gem from SI‘s “Record” section a couple issues ago, which I can’t find online, so here it is:
DONATED By major league executives and players, more than $267,000 to presidential candidates. According to USA Today, 59% of the money has gone to Republican candidates, with Rudy Giuliani getting the most: more than $78,000, including $2,300 from third baseman Alex Rodriguez.
“The other $75,700 must have come from Curt Schilling” jokes aside: ew, A-Rod, seriously. I would bet money that the donation came from a completely needy, ass-kissy support-the-New-Yorker candidate that just misses the point utterly.
He just doesn’t get it. I don’t care if he gets paid a baprillion dollars; it’s not like he’s taking the money from me, and if some other team wants to go in the hole for all that money, hey, good for him and Scott Boras for driving a tough bargain. And Rodriguez is an amazing, amazing player. Watching him in ’07 really was a privilege. But I don’t think he gets, sometimes, how baseball, like, works — not that I’m Branch Rickey over here myself, but even I know that teams go through cycles, and nothing is guaranteed really, and if what you really want to cement your legacy is a World Series ring, you need to pick a team and stay there, especially when you yourself are responsible for such a huge chunk of any given team’s payroll that they will have to take a few years and build from within, from the farm system, because they won’t have the extra cash to make big free-agent trades in July.
I don’t think the dude is cut out for New York, psychologically, at the end of the day, but I also don’t get why he thinks it’s going to be any different anywhere else he goes. He signs with Boston, he has a better-than-average shot at the big money next year; ditto the Mets. But the Mets were the runaway favorite to win at least the NL pennant last spring, and look what happened. Pitchers get hurt. Key players leave. Coaching isn’t fruitful. Shit happens. And A-Rod is not 25 anymore. He’s not injury-prone, and 31 (I think that’s his current age) is not ancient, but by the time he gives up and stomps away from the next team? He’ll be 34 or 35. And he’ll have to start taking pay cuts to move on. And Boras would never permit that.
The fact that he signed with Boras at age, what, 17…I don’t know. I can see Boras filling his head full of negotiation-horseshit “facts” about how he’s getting short shrift, it’s about winning, wah wah wah — not that Boras necessarily does this, but that Rodriguez would be susceptible to it. And someone, someone else, should maybe sit the guy down over a couple of beers and tell him, “Look, son — find some ground you like and stake it out, because you aren’t getting younger, and sometimes, in a short series, you get jobbed. Go to the Angels and fuckin’ stay there until the work is completed.”
If that’s what he really wants? The ring? I mean, he’s got enough money. He could run for president his own self at this point, he’s got so much of it. But if that’s what he wants, he needs to figure out that baseball is cyclical; he needs to find a place he likes playing where the front office is reasonably sane and savvy and has a plan for the future; and he needs to put in the time and wait. Because baseball’s basic nature, especially with a postseason containing best-of-fives, is not going to change; he is not going to change it. He’s just going to keep missing chances.
And speaking of Schilling, reader Cathy G. tipped me to the fact that he re-signed with weight incentives in his contract. Bill James has a good thing in one of his books about what weight clauses mean — usually it’s just a way to sneak more money into the contract, so both sides can say they “won,” but the front office can say they’re “only” paying X, while the player is still getting Y in reality. There was an infamous weight clause in one of Dave Parker’s contracts, which I think was a way to signal the guy that he in general had become a problem, and I don’t know if you remember Dave Parker, but his nickname was “Cobra,” and I loved watching him play because he was the meanest-looking dude in the league, but if he’d asked me the time on the street I’d have burst out crying. Sheffield has a similar quality, the way he rolls up to the plate all set to fuck some shit up, but Sheffield is more businesslike; Parker was the biggest, baddest mood in Cincinnati.
Part of James’s point, if I recall correctly, was about how tough it is to enforce a clause like that for the manager. I mean, good luck to you, but I’m not telling Dave Parker shit, much less that he’s benched for being fat, unless I’m inside a fully-armored Bradley fighting vehicle. Two states away. With a frambus that alters my voice and guaranteed entree into witness protection. Six-five-two-thirty Dave Parker wants dessert, six-five-two-thirty Dave Parker eats some dessert. Any and all dessert. Mine too. In fact, I’m-a fix him some tapioca as a snack right now in case he’s coming over to kick my ass. Because he probably is. So, you know, I have to go now, but while I’m stirring the pudding and changing my name, discuss your personal Scary Mofo All-Star Team in the comments.
See, the big fact that jumps out at me is that forty-one percent of the baseball money has gone to Democratic candidates. Given how much we hear about conservatism among athletes — something tells me there aren’t a lot of “Gravel ’08” posters in the Rockies’ locker room, or that of the Red Sox, for that matter — that seems much higher than I would have predicted.
Is it that executives are giving on both sides, and the player numbers skew more heavily Republican? Where do you think SI got its info — some intern coming OpenSecrets.net?
Doesn’t any scary mofo team begin and end with Nolan Ryan. The man beat people down in his 40s and would not give up.
I mean, I guess also Ty Cobb? But the creepy siick racism brought to action really turns me off.
As a Pirates fan (SHUTUPPPPP), I have to say, yay Dave Parker! I have the DVDs of the 1979 World Series and saying dude had an arm is the understatement of the year. He unleashed a couple throws from right field just in that series that made me back the DVD up and watch them again. It’s too bad he blew his shot at the HOF (although the wiki page on Pittsburgh drug trials makes for some pretty amusing reading–believe me, jokes are still made in Pittsburgh about the Parrot hooking players up with coke. ALLEGEDLY).
Pete Vuckovich, hands down. Couldn’t find a picture of him, but he was cast in “Major League” as the terrifying Yankee slugger with the Fu Manchu and the slow-mo spitting. According to his Wikipedia entry, his personality really added to his intimidating persona.
Despite all that, and I don’t remember this, but my parents tell me that when I was a little little kid, he was one of my FAVORITES, so much so that his name was one of the first words I could say. Vuckovich!
I’ll start working on my lineup as soon as I stop laughing my ass off at that last paragraph. So it’ll be, like, a while.
Ahem. That should be combing OpenSecrets.net.
Apologies to the SI interns, who have enough problems.
Isn’t Bob Gibson eternal captain of the All-Scary Yes-Sir-Right-Away-Sir Team?
For the record, I’m not picking on Schilling exclusively–there are a few current players who could stand a winter with Jenny Craig *and* whose lunch money I could take.
As for the all-time mofo list, I’d put Bob Gibson right next to Nolan Ryan. Gibson was udeniably awesome, but he will forever earn my adoration for telling Tim McCarver (his catcher at the time) when he came to the mound for a conference, “The only thing you know about pitching is you can’t hit it. Get back behind the plate unless you want the medic to carry you back to the dugout.” That man never needed a Scott Boras to do his fighting for him.
I read a book about Dave Parker when I was a kid. The fact that I still remember is that he was over 13 pounds when he was born. Poor Mama Parker. Our baby was 11 pounds, 5 ounces and my poor wife was about to explode. I can’t imagine throwing another 2 pounds on top of that.
As far as the All-Scaries go, I would suggest that the relief pitched should be Al Hrabosky. He was known as the Mad Hungarian or something like that, and before his first pitch, he would turn away from home plate and, like, scream or something. Just that little extra bit of crazy that a reliever needs.
Papelbon used to scare the shit out of me when he was up on the mound. Soemthing about that glare… but then came the infamous post-win pants-less jig, and now he seems just a bit less terrifying.
I would think a rotation involving with Bob Gibson, Nolan Ryan, and Don Drysdale (my personal suggestion — any man who starts a game mad and stays that way ’til it’s over belongs on this team) is pretty formidable. All you really need to round it out is Roger Clemens and J.R. Richard, and if I’m a hitter: thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather eat dirt than risk taking a fastball between the shoulderblades. And with that rotation, you don’t need no stinkin’ bullpen.
Cobb has to be in CF. I don’t think there’s another option. Milton Bradley is my LFer here; I’d be more afraid of heckling him than Bonds. And Dave Parker in right. That’s one way to piss Ty Cobb off, I suppose.
Infield seems a little harder. I’d put Rogers Hornsby at 2B, but I can’t fill in the other positions or catcher. There are grouches and jerks everywhere, but I can’t think of anyone particularly “scary.” Hmm.
Gotta put The Big Hurt on that list. And I think Big Papi’s eyes are pretty scary when he’s at the plate, hunting that ball.
I was in Wrigley’s right field bleachers once upon a time, Cubs vs. Pirates, and of course everyone’s laying shit on Parker. Ronnie “Woo-Woo” Wickers: “Parker, you’re a bum, get outta town!” over and over again.
Finally, some two-ounce brain throws a rubber ball at Parker. He angrily picks it it up, and fires it *over* the roof of the first-base upper deck. Now that was impressive!
My buddies and I used to joke that in the early 80’s, Montreal had the “all ugly outfield.” Warren Cromartie, Ellis Valentine, Andre Dawson.
Of course, when Dawson later came to the Cubs, he was my fave. Gotta love the Hawk scowling back at the pitcher;)
Bob Gibson is first in my rotation of Angry Men. He stalked that mound like he was enraged. He pitched the first pro game I attended, circa 1972, and I ask my dad (repeatedly): “What did they do to make him so mad?”
Now, though, when Shannon has to kill time in the booth and Gibson is around, I love their chatter. He tells a great baseball store and doesn’t sound at all like the guy who would chew threw a brick wall to kill you.
How about Albert “Joey” Belle. Chased kids with his car. On Halloween.
Huge: Check
Enormous Chip on his shoulder: Check
Possible steroid abuser: check (allegedly)
Rage issues: Check (See above re: car) Also don’t call him Joey..
What about Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams?
Threw 99mph, and only sometimes knew where it was going? Also had rediculous pitching follow thru, and dubious facial hair.
robyn: Hahaha! Trying to imitate the Papelbon glare is a favorite pastime in our household. Seeing your loved ones hilariously contorting their faces kind of takes the scary out of it too :)
I think there was a period of about ten years where no one wanted to face Randy Johnson. I understand because he’s so tall, it almost looks like he’s letting the ball go in your face.
AJ Pierzynski for catcher, maybe? He’s a little bit mean and a whole lot of crazy, and if I were a pitcher I would be uneasy against him, since you just never know to what he might take offense.
Another vote for Ty Cobb. If I’m on third – hell, if I have a seat on the third base line, or in that general area in the nosebleed section – and I see him sliding in, I am running the fuck away. If I’m on third because I’m on his team, I’m not stopping when I hit home.
Bob Gibson for sure, Randy Johnson (particularly the late-’90s frightening mulleted version), and Will Clark. Will Clark was a BAD mofo at the plate. “He’s bad, bad, Will Clark, the baddest man in Candlestick Park” (sung to the tune of “Bad Bad Leroy Brown”) was a singing pastime of mine when I was seven, right after the 1987 NLCS.
I kind of wonder if Canseco should be included — my understanding is that while he attempts in his new book to portray himself as a nice guy, his rageohilism shows through fairly clearly. Steroids will do that, I hear.
Also, this could make you crabby: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MmPFMPl-f4