Well, it’s August, which, blech, but what August lacks in the tolerable-weather department, it makes up for in the compelling-baseball department, because now, it counts. Sure, every game counts, and I do get a little annoyed with the “relax, it’s only May” fans, because you do have to win a bunch of games in May if you expect to earn a playoff spot, but in August, it counts more. Once you get past the All-Star break, you have a lot less wiggle room, which leads me to today’s first topic…

The standings

As of my last baseball entry, I certainly didn’t think the AL East would look like it does now. Boston in front, sure. The Yankees over .500 and Baltimore in free-fall? No way.

And seriously, what happened to the Orioles? Because I didn’t think they’d stay in first, but I didn’t think they’d basically jump out the window to get back to the basement, either. The last time the Yanks played them, someone in the Yes Network booth (I think Ken Singleton) said that the team just looked totally adrift on the field, playing in a fog, fucking up on the basics — and then Michael Kay theorized that, because the team hadn’t expected to enjoy such success early in the season, they hadn’t prepared for the inevitable course correction either, and a relatively small string of losses threw them for a larger loop than it should have.

Interesting theory. I don’t think I buy it; Kay tends to bust out psychoanalysis of players and teams that sounds good, but is a little more theatrical than the reality. It’s entirely possible that Baltimore “thought” themselves out of first, but probably, their pitching just fell apart. I don’t follow the team, so I don’t know, and it does seem like these things can feed on themselves — you lose three in a row, and then it’s five, and then it’s like nothing’s going right, ever — but it also seems like Mazzilli would know how to reverse that kind of tailspin after sitting at Torre’s knee for so many years.

Then again, maybe Mazzilli is the problem. I felt like the Orioles played below their ability last year, and a bit above it in the early part of this season; again, I don’t know the team, so it’s hard to say. Sosa’s not producing, at all, but he’s just one guy, and if the Yankees managed to keep their heads above water in spite of the human millstone that is Tony Womack…it’s a pretty dramatic swoon. Maybe Kay’s right and there’s a pretty dramatic reason. (More on Kay later.) No Palmeiro in the lineup isn’t going to help, that’s for sure. (More on that later also.)

I also didn’t realize until checking the standings today how much distance the White Sox had put between themselves and the rest of the AL Central. I think the Yankees play them at the end of next week, and it puts me in mind of nature shows when the cheetah flushes out the gazelle, and the gazelle makes a break for it, and the gazelle is so strong and so fast, but the gazelle is so, so dead. Could we catch the Red Sox and win the division? Maybe; I doubt it, but maybe. Could we snag a wild-card spot? Sure. Could we get past the White Sox in the postseason if it came down to it? No.

It’s still fun to watch, though — it’s nice that we win more often than we lose these days, for sure, but what’s really entertaining is the cavalcade of cast-offs masquerading as a pitching rotation. The Yankee pitching staff is the baseball equivalent of a food fight right now — it’s messy, it’s hell to clean up, but at least it’s not dull.

Giambi

I have to admit, I didn’t see that coming. I didn’t think he’d keep flailing the whole season the way he did in the beginning, but I didn’t think he’d turn into a one-man home-run derby in July, either. I thought we’d probably seen the last of him as an effective hitter, but I got that wrong, and thank God.

But I’ll tell you what I could do without: the “oh ye of little faith” smuggery from his defenders. We deserve a few “I told you so”s, absolutely, but it’s not like the rest of us had no reason to give up on the guy — he had a rough year last year, he got off to a rough start this year, he’s not as young as he used to be, the (alleged) steroid use, blah blah. It’s easy to backseat-manage, of course, and of course Torre and the coaches have a better idea of Giambi’s capabilities than we do…in theory. In practice, Torre started Womack in various places for the first half of the season too, and Giambi straightened himself out, but Womack…is Womack. At a certain point, I think the club has to admit, at least to itself, that a signing is a mistake and find other solutions to the problem, instead of pretending a player is going to get better, and the current Yankee regime is not great at doing that. (Exhibit A: Felix “The Run Fairy” Heredia. “Oh, we’ll just keep bringing him in until he gives us a good outing!” Never happened. See also: Jeff Weaver, Enrique Wilson, Kevin Brown, et al.)

This isn’t to say that the club should have bailed on Giambi, but it’s only obvious now, in retrospect — and it’s also worth noting that they couldn’t bail on him. If I recall correctly, he preemptively refused an assignment in the minors, and the front office couldn’t really eat his contract, so…”stick with him” it is, then. Not so much a proactive choice as the usual deer-in-the-headlights muddling, really. Speaking of which, sort of…

Bernie

It is just painful to watch poor Bernie out in center. He runs like he’s got a bee in his jock. It almost makes me mad when Torre doesn’t DH him; it’s…disrespectful to Bernie, somehow, to run him out to center when he can’t cover the territory anymore. It’s like it shows him up, and he’s given so much to the team for so many years, and played so well…it’s not his fault that he’s old and that the team is carrying too many 1B/DH types.

Joe: Do not put Bernie in the field. It’s mean. Let him play out the string as the DH and go out with dignity.

Bernie: Go out with dignity…and soon. It’s not going to get any better. We all love you, and we’ll miss you like crazy — your weird car-seat stance, your clutch awesomeness, your switch-hitter’s batting helmet that gives you pinhead. But it’s time to go. Pack up your stuff, let them retire #51, and go sign baseball cards and play with your band. Ask Paulie O’Neill, he’ll tell you. Walk away.

Manny

I guess Manny’s drama would get old if you had to deal with it as a fan all the time, wondering how he’d lip off next and whether Red Sox management would finally decline to deal with it and punt him to Kansas City for two batboys and a resin bag, but from here…whatever. I mean, I don’t understand why he’s spazzing, honestly, and you could certainly interpret it as Manny disrespecting his teammates. I don’t know that I would love dealing with that as a work colleague, either. But it’s nothing new, Manny-wise, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the numbers to back up a little mouthing off.

When Garciaparra sat on the bench and pouted that time, by himself, I thought that was really obnoxious and divisive and that they had no choice but to trade him. This? Meh. It’s just Manny. I think his teammates know that by now.

Palmeiro

Ohhhhh, Palmeiro. This story just came over the wire, like, an hour ago, and I saw the headline on Yahoo! Sports and said, out loud, “Oh, that’s just great.”

Rafael Palmeiro was suspended 10 days for violating Major League Baseball’s steroids policy Monday, nearly five months after the Baltimore Orioles first baseman emphatically told Congress that “I have never used steroids. Period.”

Palmeiro became the highest-profile player among the seven who have failed a test under the toughened major league policy that took effect in March, rules criticized by Congress as not being stringent enough.

In a conference call Monday, Palmeiro said he never intentionally took steroids and could not explain how the drugs got into his body. He also apologized and said would accept his punishment.

On the one hand, I find the whole “I don’t know what’s in the stuff I take/someone slipped me a mickey” defense absurd, just generally. We’ve heard that shit from players before, and I don’t think I understand how it is that a man who makes a living with his body does not know what he’s putting into it — and if I could have bought that explanation, say, five years ago, I certainly don’t buy it now, in the current climate where steroid use is under a microscope, from a dude who appeared before Congress all finger-pointy to say that he had not done steroids, ever. I mean, give us a break, Raffy.

On the other hand, the guy shills for Viagra. Bob Costas pointed that out on The Daily Show last week, and Costas seemed to think that makes it more likely that Palmeiro did ‘roids — that he’ll do whatever he has to do to run in peak condition, I guess the logic goes. I think it’s the opposite — that it means he’s more likely to admit to his failings — but who knows. But given that the entire sport is under scrutiny, and that Palmeiro just passed a major hitting milestone recently and had to have known better than to dose when he’s getting all that attention, I have to think he’s telling the truth, if only because his explanation is so feeble that it’s probably true.

Naturally, Yahoo! Sports has a poll up about whether this will affect Palmeiro’s Hall of Fame chances, with the vast majority of respondents saying that it will. I’ve said pretty much all I have to say on the subject, but I don’t have the first idea how to handle the steroid issue in terms of the Hall of Fame, because it just seems like it’s everywhere, and it’s one thing to give Pete Rose an asterisk; he’s one guy. When you might have to give dozens of guys asterisks…I just don’t know. The whole thing makes me tired.

The Hall of Fame

No particular thoughts on the two newest Hall of Famers one way or the other — at least, not in terms of their worthiness. Growing up as a Mets fan, I saw Ryno play a fair amount, but I didn’t really see Boggs until he’d gotten kind of old, and I’ll tell you, I just can’t forget that he got up on horseback with a mounted policeman after the Yanks won the pennant, or whatever — I don’t remember what they’d even won, or what year, I just remember Boggs jouncing around the infield on a pony, like, my God, man, get down from there and act your age. I also remember the whole Margo Adams thing, and how fans around the league used to taunt him about that, like, for years, and the fact that, as a Yankee, his coming-up-to-bat music was the theme from Top Gun. I’m not saying he wasn’t a great player; I’m saying I get the feeling he’s that guy who calls you “Mommy” during sex. And then cries afterwards. I liked his speech about his dad, but…dude’s a little moist.

Anyway. I can’t wait until next year’s ballot, because the eligible “class” for 2006 is guys I remember from the Mets twenty years ago — Dwight Gooden, Rick Aguilera — and guys they played against, like Orel Hershiser, who I can’t imagine not going in on the first try. God, I hated when we played the Dodgers and Hershiser pitched. Mostly I’d like to see what becomes of Gooden, who looked like a Cooperstown lock twenty years ago but probably won’t go in after all.

The booth

I’ve given Michael Kay plenty of shit in the past, and I’m not about to take any of it back, but it’s weird — the worse the team plays, the better an announcer he is. His homerism is grating even when it’s justified by top-notch play, and I just assumed that he’d step it up a notch during mediocre or bad periods and become even more annoying, but he’s actually had a number of good insights (and surprisingly bitchy comments) so far in 2005. Don’t get me wrong, he still bugs me and I still miss Al Trautwig, but he seems to have a better balance in his approach this year.

I’m also enjoying the contributions of David Justice, because the other guys in the booth will try to find a tactful way to say that a player is hitting for shit or an error was inexcusable, but Justice doesn’t sugarcoat it as much, and he played recently enough that he’ll still get really exercised about certain things and start spazzing off about how you HAVE TO MAKE THAT PLAY, KENNY, and it’s kind of awesome. I don’t know what’s up with that boy-band goatee he’s trying out, but I like hearing him in the booth; he’s kind of interrupty sometimes, but that’s okay. He’s got energy. I like Kaat and Singleton just fine, but they can get a little too mellow.

In other booths around the dial, I’m liking Joe Buck more and more, and not just because he’s trapped in the booth with Mrs. Derek Jeter and Scooter and I pity him; he’s knowledgeable and bone-dry, and he’s toned it way down with the stentorian poetry-of-baseball crap that used to make me dislike him.

Joe Morgan, on the other hand…what is that guy’s problem? For real. He sniped at Sandberg ten years ago when Sandberg retired, and then he stayed home from this year’s induction ceremony, citing a family commitment (which is probably bull). He freaked out when Peter Gammons (also a Hall of Famer now, and good for him) struck out Harold Reynolds in an MLB promo spot, calling it disrespectful and ridiculous. “Harold Reynolds was a MAJOR-LEAGUER, aaaiiieeee!” Look, if Harold Reynolds doesn’t have a problem with it, why do you? Morgan also hates Moneyball and never misses an opportunity to diss it on the air, which, get with the times, Grandpa. You don’t have to agree that every sabremetric stat is useful, but it’s not going away, so deal. And he’s…not that good an announcer, in my opinion. He’s a know-it-all, he speaks in stating-the-obvious koans, he interrupts Jon Miller constantly…I know he’s in the Hall himself, and I respect his contributions to the game, but why is he such a pill all the damn time?

Bill James put a little “letter” to Joe in the Historical Abstract telling him, fairly nicely, to get over himself. I concur.

August 1, 2005

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