Dry Land: Winning After 20 Years at Sea with the Pittsburgh Pirates

7 Apr
Chronicling a baseball season has been done many, many times.  Believe me, I’ve read quite a few.  As far as I can tell, they seem to come in two varieties: The Tale of the Winner (exciting and happy); or, The Tale of the Loser (tragic or mundane, depending on the scale of failure).  Often, it seems that the author decides that the book will be written before the season starts.  The author then goes about the process of writing much like a beat reporter, and ultimately compiles the notes into a book-length piece of work to be available prior to the next season.  If the year was remarkable, it sells; if not, it doesn’t.  But the book rarely stands on its merits alone.  Most often, the book lives or dies relative to the very team it followed.  Essentially it’s a diary.  The subject will determine its relevance, not the work itself.
Dry Land is different.
Charlie Wilmoth has made a real and meaningful contribution to the world of baseball.  He has done for the understanding of being a fan what Bill James (and others) did for the evaluation of baseball talent.  Wilmoth breaks through the judgment and stereotype within the strange world of fandom with a compassionate, objective psychological understanding of human nature.  And in this case, he sketches an understanding of human identity in the face of unimaginable team failure.  He explains exactly why we care so much when grown men succeed or fail at the endeavor of playing a child’s game.  Being a fanatic in relation to others’ achievements is absurd on the surface.  But Wilmoth shines insight on the subject through pointed interviews and generalizations of the psychology of human behavior in community with others.  He does all this while at the same time painting the depths of Pirates failure on the field and in the front office over the span of two decades.
As a new fan, the history part of the book was captivating.  I now have a better understanding of the jokes and references of the failed Pirates teams of yore.  And I would imagine, the recounting of memorable mishaps of years gone by taps into the real causes and conditions of how and why old-time fans make sense of their oft-pitied favorite team.  Unlike many factual histories of baseball, Wilmoth manages to pare down the information to the truly critical benchmarks of failure and misery.  It makes for engaging, lively reading rather than the textbook-like filler you can often find in longer-winded play-by-play.
Back to the psychology, though.  (After all, this angle is what really sets this book apart.)  Wilmoth clearly knows how to interview well.  His questions and summaries burrow into the inner landscape of Pirates fans with a forthright transparency.  He offers fans’ responses in a way that leaves room for interpretation but also offers a generalized categorization of the types of fans he found in his research.  When he detaches from the details and broadens into fan types, he is able to frame the collective reactions to perennial losing (and then finally winning) as, essentially, coping mechanisms.  And specifically, he frames most of them as coping mechanisms by people in a chronic state of abuse – yes, abuse inflicted by the Pittsburgh Pirates, the very team we allegedly love.
And here’s what makes Dry Land such a powerful piece of writing: By pulling back layers of outward behavior, Wilmoth leaves room to ponder the fundamental questions of humanity.  What does it mean to succeed?  If I fail repeatedly, how does that shape my place in community?  Is there free will, or do the circumstances we’re born into determine our fate?  There can be unsettling answers to those questions.  And when we, as expressed by ‘our’ team, are on the losing side of things, how do we compensate for failure?
Wilmoth makes some connections to other fanbases of other franchises.  And this stuff is what makes a book like this potentially transformative.  Because there’s nothing unique about being a Pirates fan.  Let me take that back.  I understand (better now that I’ve read Dry Land) that there’s nothing else in North American professional sports like being a Pirates fan.  But Wilmoth makes clear that any fanbase that experienced the combination of ineptitude, bad luck, and poor performance of the Pittsburgh Pirates would react largely in the same way (as a group).  There would be different reactions individually, but fundamentally, it would be a community of people making sense of abuse.

All of this leaves me wondering a few things.  What if, after 20 years of neglect, the once loving partner comes home from work with flowers and tickets to Hawaii.  How exactly are we to make sense of that?  How exactly do people make sense of a gift from their abuser?  Is this a case of the random gift (read: one winning season) that momentarily quells disappointment and suspicion only to keep everyone off the abuser’s back for a while?  Or is this a genuine expression of ‘care’ in the midst of a larger change for the better (read: organizational competence)?  I suppose it depends on how you generally make sense of the world.  In Wilmoth’s terms, it may depend on whether you’re a Builder, an Anti, a Fatalist, or a Contrarian.  Or is there a new type of fan growing in Pittsburgh?  I guess we’ll have to keep watching to find out.

In the meantime, do yourself a favor and click here.  Buy this book.  Heck, buy two.  I guarantee you’ll think of someone that needs a copy after you’re finished reading it.  And you won’t want to part with yours.

162 – 0

1 Apr

As long as I can remember this happening, I’ve never liked the day off after Opening Day.  I can only imagine it’s a way to maximize TV revenues by making sure the Opening Day moments in Boston, New York, and the LAs are exclusive, non-competing events.  All this day-off does is amplify the hope or fear generated throughout the winter.  Almost every team loses to end a season: either they lose the playoff chase or they lose a heart-breaking series in October.  Of course there’s that one team that does win.  For those fans winter is a time of realization and joy.  But for everyone else winter follows loss.  And loss does this amazing thing that winning doesn’t do: it stokes the imagination.

Imagination is good.  But imagination is also the playground of projection.  As humans, it can be argued that we tend to project our inner condition on all that we encounter in life.  In other words, we see ourselves in everything.  All that is around us – people, institutions, baseball teams – start to take on the characteristics we hold for ourselves.  Confident people tend to trust their neighbors.  Depressed people see places like schools as hopeless pitstops on a meaningless road to death.  Deceitful people see churches and charities as scams looking to take your money.  The list of examples can go on and on.  Yes, losing sparks our imagination, but our imagination simply overlays our sense of self onto the possibilities that ‘next year’ holds for our favorite baseball team.

Opening Day brings reality.  Opening Day announces the start of the marathon.  With former stars and grand entrances, our teams get back onto the field to give it another go.  The games start and our imagination is put to the test.  If you believe the psychology of it, our very sense of self is put to the test. And for Pirates fans, our egos are validated or refuted by the men in black and gold.

But here’s the magic of it…  If we’re generally well-adjusted, happy people and our sense of the world is that it is generally a good place, we set ourselves up for some grating dissonance when the Pirates lose.  We may hold out for a while with a hearty get’m-tomorrow attitude.  But over the long haul, the losses may teach us that the outer reality is inconsistent with our inner confidence.  But that’s just the dark side.

If we’re on the other end, we’re the one who generally sees the shit in life.  If we’re the person that interjects a yeahbut into every hopeful projection or a ‘reality check’ for every dreamer, we have the opportunity to completely change our lives every spring.

Undoubtedly, the naysayers predict horrible ways of losing every year.  Or even worse, they predict mundane, lifeless ways of falling short on the baseball field (as they must for themselves in their daily lives, as well).  But then the team wins.  What do the rally-killers of life do then?  How do you explain it when the team that really sucks (and probably hates its fans) wins?  Really, how do you account for the good things that happen to the projections of our inner hatred?  (Watch out – because if it keeps happening, it might just change your whole outlook on life.)

But that’s not today’s Pirates fan, right?  I mean, we all get that the team is different now.  This team’s a winner and the front office ‘gets it’.  So we’re all predicting a modest 86-win season that may or may not earn a Wild Card spot depending on the competition.  It’s a safe bet for most.  Sure, some of the deep self-haters are hanging onto the validation that losing brings and declaring last year a fluke – we’ll be back to 70 wins in no time.  Other, more Pollyanna types fully expect a trip to the World Series.   But for most of us, we may see a small step back in 2014 on an overall forward trend that should include a couple postseason runs in the next five years – maybe even a deep one.  It’s a safe bet.

But what if you’re like me and you’re too stupid to doubt?  What if you’re generally happy about things – or happy about baseball, at least – and you think: hell, they could just keep winning.  Maybe all winter, you largely ignored all the analysis about AJ Burnett and the time tables for Jameson Taillon and Gregory Polanco.  Maybe you walked blissfully by iced over snowbanks content with the knowledge that the Pirates will do it again this year.  Yep, the Pirates are a playoff team and sure, there will be ups and downs, but it’ll all work out in the end.

If you’re that person, then the day off after an Opening Day win is the playground of even more absurd imagination.  It’s the day we can kick around images of champagne soaked unis and World Series trophies.  Heck, we can even imagine perfection.

‘Jeff’ is the problem

15 Mar

Things have been pretty quiet on the sports front this winter for me.  I’ve been focused on selling my house (and buying a new one) and simply getting through this ridiculously cold stretch that seems to be going on forever.  I was almost lulled to sleep, until… I got this gem posted by ‘Jeff’ to my season ticket refusal letter.  It started off like this:

I bet your kicking yourself in the ass for not renewing. But I’ll thank you for not renewing because I happened to become a season ticket holder just this past year and man was it a fun team to watch. Not to mention the fact they won the World Series.

Good… Good…  I like the energy.  I like the looks of the horse he’s riding in on, too.  And I especially like the breaking news about the Red Sox winning the World Series.  It’s always fun to hear the new Red Sox fans take on an edge.  What’s really nice is that he then goes on to teach me a lesson about how life works.

You need to understand something, baseball is a business. There is a reason they charge the prices they do, because they can and people will pay it. Unfortunately yes that does price out many fans, but by lowering the price doesn’t mean those less fortunate will necessarily get to go to games, because the rich can still buy up all of those cheaper tickets, sell them to stub hub and then the poor still have to pay high prices. If you can’t afford the tickets thats one thing, but don’t bitch simply because the Sox ownership is raising the prices too high. Its called supply and demand.

Sassy and informative.  But there’s more!

I can’t afford my whole package of tickets so I share them with friends, I make it work because I love the team and I always want to be a part of them, win or lose. I may not have been born in 1986, but I’ve still watched every pitch of that series.

He tells me how to make season tickets work economically.  He also gives me a sense of how old he is – which is great because now I can kind of picture this guy.  In fact, I know this guy.  And I know his Facebook page is flooded with selfies at Fenway (and probably comments on his own pictures with congratulatory comments about ‘his’ seats).  But I digress…

If you expect a good team on the field year in and year out, they will expect to keep making money.

This here is the saddest line of the whole comment.  He tips his hand. He admits his resignation.  With this one line he hands over his wallet to the ownership of the Boston Red Sox.   ‘If you expect a good team’, and he does, ‘they will expect to keep making money’.  Exactly.

Baseball is indeed a business.  No one is in it for charity.  But different teams operate differently.  Some offer competitive but fair prices (and a competitive team) because they know their fans not only love baseball, but they also have limited money available to spend on entertainment.

Other teams simply go for the jugular.  Other teams cater to wealthy individuals, image drunk 20-somethings, corporations, and the so-called secondary market because (like my thoughtful reader Jeff accurately points out) someone’s gonna pay the bill.

Whoring to the almighty dollar is one way of living.  I can’t object to that other than to say that I choose not to live that way.  But happily complying to someone else’s money-grabbing obsession is a disgrace.  Jeff is just another mindless pawn in the game. I feel sorry for him.  But in another more accurate way I blame him.  The more Jeffs there are in the world, the more baseball will slide down to the lowest common denominator.  The more people (like Jeff) that are successfully seduced by the PR nonsense that teams like the Red Sox desperately shove in fan’s faces all year long, the more teams will try to brand you with pink hats, Neil Diamond, and ‘priceless’ souvenirs of your witness to the true marketing ascendancy of billionaires (taking your money).

The real problem with Jeff’s position is that it will ultimately ruin the Major Leagues.  The more people that resign to the oppressive economics of professional baseball, the more the big market teams will be able to get away with it.  The rules already bend their way.  With the support of the people, it will only continue in that direction.  New York always wins free agency.  Boston rakes in regional TV revenues.  Los Angeles now even fares better in the draft.   Jeff will help secure the next level of codified imbalance.

Good job, Jeff.  And thanks for securing the destruction of our National Pastime.

Interchangeable empires II: Olympia Sports knows

28 Dec

I received a gift card to Olympia Sports for Christmas.  It was a very generous gift, and I thought (foolishly) that I’d head over to the mall on the 26th to pick up a new Pirates cap.

Quite predictable, there was no Pirates gear in the store.  Living in Red Sox country (with a large population of Yankees fans) pretty much guarantees that if any out-of-town small market teams are represented, it will only be by overly stylized novelty items meant for non-fans.

I browsed anyway.  I found some nice winter socks  and some snow pants on deep discount that will help me stay longer on the sledding hill with the kids.  So I found good use for the gift card.

But then this happened…

I was looking at baseball caps and saw one of those artificially ragged looking styles with the Red Sox B on it.  Something about it caught my eye, so I took it off the rack for closer inspection.  And upon further review, I found something weird – it said YANKEES on the side of the bill.

Yes friends, they’re starting to manufacture fangear in ways that represent the truth.  The Red Sox and Yankees are the same team.

Shortly thereafter I overheard the two people behind the counter complaining about the types of returns they were seeing this year.  Some eye rolling and head shaking underscored the refrain, ‘Add it to the list’.  Feeling helpful, I dismounted my high horse and pointed out the misprint on the hat rack.  Here’s a loose transcript of the conversation that ensued:

Man:  Oh yeah.  I know about that one.  We’re supposed to sell it.

Me: Really?

Man: Yeah.  ‘Corporate’ told us to keep it out there.  There’s a sweatshirt like that on the clearance rack up front.  Corporate wants us to sell that one, too.

Me: Who do they think is going to buy that stuff?

Man:  I don’t know.  But I can’t return them.

I checked the prices on both items.  The hat was regular price, $22 or so.  The youth-sized sweatshirt with RED SOX on the front and the top hat and bat on the sleeve was ‘reduced’ to $41.96.

Seems ridiculous, but clearly Corporate has a plan.  And Corporate knows!  They know that, fundamentally, there is no difference between the two teams.  Even in the warzone of a border state, there’s no difference between the teams.  Corporate knows the truth.  Corporate knows that there’s only one important logo in the big market universe: it’s green with eagles.  Fans aren’t real people to these guys.  Fans are just credit card vectors.

But here’s the weird thing.  Corporate reality, while it drives the policies and marketing of baseball, does not reflect the reality of us fans.  No one will buy that stupid hat.  Certainly not at full price.  No kid is going to wear that sweatshirt – he’d get ridiculed (at least).  Fans don’t want Corporate mistakes.

Unfortunately, that’s not the message Corporate gets when it comes to baseball.  The lack of a salary cap, the drafting rules, all of that – is a mess.  The entire economic construct of Major League Baseball is a mistake.  And yet – the fans are still buying it.  MLB profits are at an all-time high; merchandise is flying off shelves; baseball players continue to hold celebrity status on and off the field.  We are, metaphorically speaking, buying a mis-stitched product at full price.  In fact, we seem to be paying extra.

The New York Red Sox continue to dominate ESPN top stories and TV revenue and free agent dollars.  I guess they’re finally making merchandise that reflects this reality.

Interchangeable empires

4 Dec

The Yankees just signed Jacoby Ellsbury away from the Red Sox for $150M.  Yes, a career .790 OPS guy is making over $20M a year, a deal similar to Manny Ramirez’s in his prime. Red Sox fans will screw up their disdain for the Yankees by laughing at their financial indiscretion.  Some ‘historically’ oriented followers might even hearken way back to the post-2004 off-season and remind everyone that the Sox let go of Pedro Martinez and Derek Lowe after their first championship in the modern era.  Other, more media influenced types will continue with the comparisons to the inimitable Johnny Damon – the name Ellsbury’s been paired with since the minors.  But, really – this is a non-story.

The fact that the American League team in New York just committed themselves to this kind of money is only marginally different than if, say the American League team in Boston did the same thing (or either team in Los Angeles made the same headlines).  To modify a favorite saying of mine, Jacoby Ellsbury going to the Yankees is just a case of rearranging the chairs in the royal palace.  (While the rest of the league still fights for scraps on the other side of the moat.)

I heard somewhere that the Red Sox just won the World Series.  I found this out when it ran for, like, 100 straight days on the ESPN.com front page. I was also reminded of this information by several local friends of mine asking me if I regretted my decision to jump ship to the Pirates.  After fielding these questions with integrity and truth (win or lose, the Red Sox still manifest the corrupt power of the elite), I am eager to hear the commentary by these same Red Sox fans regarding the Jacoby Ellsbury news.  I am eager to hear if there are any cries of injustice.  I am eager to hear if there is forced scoffery at the Yankees for the mixed priorities revealed in such a free agent signing.  I am eager to hear about the Yankees riches.  Because if I hear any of that, here are the specific inconsistencies I’d like to hear reconciled:

  • How is this any different than Carl Crawford?  (It’s not.)
  • Does this make the Yankees a better team? (Yes.)
  • How much did the Tampa Bay Rays offer Ellsbury? (Sorry, he’s actually not available to the other teams in the AL East.)
  • List the teams that could afford Ellsbury AND address their other roster needs this winter?  (Boston, the LA’s, etc.)
  • How many of those teams could reasonably be expected to make the playoffs this year?  (All.)

The Boston Yankees, err, I mean the New York Red Sox, umm… Anyway… The rich team (sic) in the northeast just switched a player.  Who cares?  Remember when A-Rod was traded to the Red Sox in 2003?  Remember when Leigh Teixeira nixed a deal that would have landed her husband in Boston for the ’09 season?  Of course not.  All these players trading gold-stitched laundry is just more fiddling while Rome burns.  

The Jacoby Ellsbury signing only underscored one known truth of Major League Baseball today: Elite free agents are only available to a short list of teams.  The league is systematically unjust.

NLCS perspective from the monastery

22 Oct

I spent the weekend at the Weston Priory, a Benedictine monastery in southern Vermont.  I was wearing a Pirates hat for much of the weekend and, wouldn’t you know it, that hat sparked a few conversations.  There were two well-wishers (Red Sox and Phillies fans), and one actual Pirates fan (who was also wearing a P-hat).

The Red Sox fan (a Yankees defector, interestingly enough) was bemoaning the Red Sox game 5 loss (game 6 had not yet been played).  But more passionately, he was disappointed in Clayton Kershaw’s failure against the Cardinals in the NLCS clincher.  In the midst of all of this, I began to worry about a potential Red Sox – Cardinals World Series – which has now come to pass.

My first thoughts were something akin to humiliation.  I was already feeling the bad feelings of hearing the anticipated taunts from my former Red Sox brethren.  I imagined a bunch of toldya-so’s and the like.  I can actually picture a few of them being so direct.  I can picture even more of them earnestly offering condolences, thinly available only from the security of their imperial victory.

Just as I was actually feeling the discomfort of words yet to be said to me, I began to ask myself why it mattered so much?  Why do I need to be right about this decision to be a Pirates fan?  Or maybe more to the point, why would the Red Sox winning prove me ‘wrong’?

The easy answer is that it actually wouldn’t prove me wrong about anything.  I’m not putting this blog out into the world in some effort to argue that the Red Sox will never be good again.  In fact, that’s very far from the case.  If I had to wager a guess, I’d have to say that the current Red Sox ownership has been sufficiently shamed by their quest for a stand-up comedy manager and sexy players that they will focus solely on winning baseball games for the foreseeable future.  And with the obscene amount of money available to that cause, the Red Sox will probably make the playoffs for the next decade.  That’s something I could be right or wrong about.  But leaving a team because they have turned a regional treasure into a money-grabbing PR show is unarguably based on fact.

At the monastery there are many services: Vigils, Vespers, Eucharists, Complines, etc. In the midst of my inner baseball turmoil, I was offered Romans 12:14-15.

‘Bless your persecutors; never curse them, bless them.  Rejoice with others when they rejoice, and be sad with those in sorrow.’

We Pirates fans are those in sorrow.  However we, by our allegiance to the poor-market team, can best be described as disciples than anything else.  Your discipline (yours more than mine) in your faith through two decades (a lifetime for some) of persecution is the reward of righteousness.  While there are doubters, and even deniers – as there were in Jesus’s 12 – righteousness is found in faithfulness.

Tangent: As for my own lack of faith in my team of origin… I can reconcile that to the co-opting of my team by the ideals of the empire – and its allegiance to imperialism in all its forms leaves no room for the spirit.  Leaving room for the spirit is the field of miracles.  Choosing the certainty of the empire is nothing but idol worship – placing all faith in the predictable now rather than the miraculous time to come.  Hence, my defection from the empire…

So back to righteousness…  Righteousness, as Pirates fans know more than just about anyone else, lies separate from winning and losing.  Because a larger victory is at hand.  For the day will come when the first will be last, and the last will be first!  (But Evan Meek shall not inherit the Earth… ha!)

As Paul instructed the church in Rome (disciples buried deep in the midst of the empire), we should rejoice with others when they rejoice.  Cardinals fans are only doing what we would also do in their circumstances – further evidence that we are them, and more importantly, they are us.  So I encourage you to smile at the Cardinals victory.  Find joy for the families draped in Cardinal red for generations.  Find within yourself the place that yearns to cheer for a pennant winner and allow it to express itself through the victory of others.  (I wrote the majority of this before the Red Sox clinched and now as I transcribe this from my notebook I want to vomit in my mouth a little… But I can only ask of myself to do the same for the former object of my affections… barf!)

In this moment of find joy with the joyous, I encourage you to find time to shed a tear with those in Dodger blue.  We know that other side of the coin called grief.  We know that it draws us closer to knowing the righteousness that transcends victory and defeat.  And in sports, that righteousness is simply called being a fan.

The Pirates’ day will come.  And on that day the righteous will rejoice.

The playoff outliers

14 Oct

I have one request for all of you.  Please, rudely interrupt any clear-thinking adult that starts to talk about ‘parity’ or ‘competitive balance’ in Major League Baseball.  It’s fiction.  It’s like trying to talk seriously about Santa Claus or the tooth fairy or bipartisan political compromise. It just doesn’t exist.

Major League Baseball has created a mythology around this parity thing.  Bud Selig (and others) selectively broadcast ‘facts’ and figures that support the notion that anyone can get into the playoffs.  And, you know, once you’re in, who knows what’ll happen?!

Well, I know what will happen.  The rich teams will get into the playoffs and then have a huge talent advantage over everyone else.

How then, does one explain the fact that smaller market teams win championships from time to time?  Once a team gets into the playoffs (<- and that’s the important part), the specific series outcomes probably have more to do with the nature of the game of baseball than any signing or drafting rules Bud & Co. can take credit for or, more likely, ignore.

Let’s look at some payroll details of the teams that made it to the dance this year.  (Beginning-of-season payroll numbers used.)  The ten teams that clinched a playoff birth span the market distribution pretty evenly.  Three teams made it in from the top ten (Dodgers, Red Sox, and Tigers – avg payroll of $175M); three teams made it from the 10-19 tier (Cardinals, Reds, and Braves – avg payroll of $105M); and much to the delight of big market teams and their suck-ups, four teams made it from the bottom tier (Indians, A’s, Pirates, and Rays – avg payroll of $69M). Don’t ignore the relative distances between the tiers.  The top tier is far, far above the rest of the league.

Another way to parse this out is to look at the distribution of salaries and number of highly paid players.  In other words: How many players did each team just dump excess cash onto to secure - MVP/CYA caliber free agents? And, how much of a line-up/rotation can a team fill with moderately highly paid players - All Star caliber free agents?   For the sake of simplicity, I’ve chosen the arbitrary cut-offs of $20M and $10M, respectively.  (And I didn’t bother to look at the one-and-done Reds and Indians.  Sorry, Ohio…)

  • The Dodgers have three (3) $20M players; and five (5) additional players that make more than $10M. A total of $123M was paid to 7 of those players alone this year plus a portion of Ricky Nolasco’s $11M salary;
  • Red Sox, zero (0) and seven (7). $79M on six of those players plus a portion of Jake Peavy’s $16M salary;
  • Detroit, three (3) and two (2).  $89M on those five players;
  • Cardinals, zero (0) and four (4).  $55M on those four players;
  • Braves, zero (0) and three (3).  $38M on those three players;
  • A’s, zero (0) and zero (0);
  • Pirates, zero (0) and three (3); THREE?!  Yep – split portions of AJ Burnett’s $16M and Wandy’s $13M salaries, plus a small bit of Morneau’s $15M salary;
  • Rays, zero (0) and zero (0).

There it is.  The top three teams pay more to their elite free agents than the bottom three teams spend on their entire teams. The Dodgers and Red Sox and Tigers essentially start with a team like the A’s, Pirates, or Rays…. and then add 5-8 of the very best players in Major League Baseball.  I know, you’ve heard it before…

There are, however, two outliers in the 2013 playoff payroll analysis.  Those two teams are the Red Sox and Pirates.  And these two approaches are what may prove to make these two teams perennial powerhouses in their respective tax brackets.

The Red Sox have a huge payroll.  Since John Henry took charge (and even before, with the Manny and Pedro additions of the Duquette years), the Red Sox have been one of the very biggest spenders in baseball.  But when Theo Epstein and/or his spending model has been employed, the Red Sox have never gone out and paid for the best of the best.  They typically target the better of the best, and/or the best of the good.  And that is reflected in their payroll – no $20M plus players; seven $10M players.  These seven players aren’t guys like Verlander or A-Rod (of yore).  These are a combination of players from the Sox’ system that have taken the hometown discount and second-tier free agents.  No one of these players could carry a team. Ryan Dempster?  Shane Victonino?  Are you kidding me?  But in concert, this is a huge chunk of the 25-man roster filled with proven, virtually guaranteed, production.

And here’s the genius of it.  Just as no one player from that list could carry that team; no one injury could sink it either.  And there’s no one player with too, too much financial commitment to hamstring that team at the deadline or in the off-season.  The Dodgers and Tigers cannot say that.  Essentially, they are simply luckier than the other bloated teams (read: Yankees and Angels) in terms of performance and injury.  The Red Sox have more of an insurance policy structured into their roster.

Now by contrast, the Pirates’ largest free-agent paycheck this year added up to $7.5M.  That was for Russell Martin.  Money well spent.  But if you add in the assumed value of the high-salary players like AJ Burnett and Justin Morneau, the Pirates have a virtual payroll that exceeds $100M.  The talent represented not by the fractions that the Pirates are paying, but accounting the full-freight that some other team mistakenly dumped on these players to make them unavailable to the Pirates (and others) in the first place, pushes the Pirates roster to something comparable to the Cardinals.

And that certainly played on the field.  The Pirates took a top-of-the-middle-tier team the full distance in the NLDS.  Could they (should they?) have won it?  Easily.

Neal Huntington’s approach this year seemed to be this: Put together a team in April that (with a few breaks) can compete.  And then, open up all the stops to get high-profile players (regardless of salary) to play for the September push and beyond.  Add to that approach the tried-and-true salary dump deals with the rich and strong draft-and-develop results, and the Pirates should be in the thick of things for years to come.

Does that mean there’s parity or competitive balance in Major League Baseball now? No. Don’t be stupid.  It just means the Pirates have an intelligent and creative front office.

When depression ends, grief begins

10 Oct

The 2013 season is over.

There were so many answered dreams last night.  No Pedro Alvarez moon shot; no Andrew McCutchen walk-off; no Gerrit Cole complete game shut-out.  I’ll admit, I indulged in some childlike fantasizing about how game five would end.  And I don’t even need to waste the screen space to admit that none of it came true.  (Although, I just did.)

With the last swing-and-a-miss, I continued to sit in silence on my couch.  I briefly watched the Cardinals celebrate and then flipped windows to the Twitter feed.  I favorited a lot of nice sentiments, added one or two of my own, and browsed the final box score.  Maybe I was looking for answers.  But maybe I was just imagining how looking at this list of names will feel ten years from now.

Tim Williams summarized many of my post-game (and even late season) thoughts about this team here.  If you haven’t read it yet, don’t waste your time here – click on the link now.

Given that there’s really no need to repeat all of that (with less research and a day late…), I think it’s worth using this blog to revisit the strange universe of sports fandom.

We Pirates fans are all very different people.  Sure, there are some commonalities – especially among those living in and around western PA – but really, all we truly have in common are the colors.  We watch the men in black and gold play the game of baseball from spring through the summer.  And we all hope to continue watching them into the fall.  We are a community defined by our daily allegiance to the ballpark, the TV and radio, the internet, the scoreboard, and the daily debate about our beloved Pirates. When the Pirates win, we share our joy.  When the Pirates lose, we share our grief.  Win or lose, the one constant is that we share.

Maybe that’s what all of this sports nonsense can be distilled down to: we share.  Pirates fans share today the grief and disappointment of falling short of the ultimate prize.  Cardinals fans are sharing, too.  They just happen to be sharing the joy of taking the next step in the journey.

It might be hard to appreciate the fact that Pirates fans and Cardinals fans are ultimately engaged in the same endeavor. But I think Martin Prechtel makes a lot of sense when he describes joy (or praise) and grief as two sides of the same coin.  Grief and joy can’t live without each other.  And he even goes further to say that if we cannot experience one of them, the other becomes inaccessible.

Right here you might say (yell): ‘Pirates fans have already had their share of grief!’  And of course, Cardinals fans have more championships to remember than any other National League team.  But maybe Pirates fans haven’t really felt grief lately. Maybe, as Prechtel suggests, the numbing that comes with an inability to find joy builds into a pervasive depression – something heavy and dark; something that looks like anger or apathy, sarcasm or disdain.

Depression isn’t grief at all.  In fact, it is an act of systematic denial – maybe not a willful act, but an act nonetheless.  Depression is the denial of joy.  And if we are to accept the notion that joy and grief live together, depression is the denial of grief as well.  As fans, we have surely experienced the act of denying our grief by pointing the finger, blaming angrily, or even feigning disinterest.  But something just happened…

The 2013 Pirates won’t let us do that.  They shocked a fanbase out of a long and deep depression.  The malaise of two decades was lifted with the emergence of energetic baseball, competent personnel moves, successful player development, and most of all… winning!  We have had the pleasure of sharing (97 times over) our joy of victory with each other.  That, friends, is a sure-fire recipe to break a depression if I ever heard of one.

That’s great, right?! Isn’t winning what we’ve wanted all along?!  Well, yes it is.  But with this season of joy breaking through the darkness that has burdened Pirates fans for so long, we also receive the the other side of the coin: the grief.

So feel it Pirates fans.  I know I’m taking on a tone of someone that’s followed this team forever – and I haven’t – but I have experienced depression, grief, and joy rooting for different colors, sharing with different people. And go and read that piece by Tim Williams again…

Game 4 was hard, but…

8 Oct

Home team bias aside, yesterday was a phenomenal playoff game.   A short list of reasons:

  • A no-hitter into the 8th
  • A no-hitter into the 8th by a rookie
  • An emerging October superstar breaking it up with a mammoth HR
  • A team getting their 1st hit in the 8th still in the game
  • A team with their 1st hit in the 8th still in an elimination game
  • A runner on in the bottom of the 9th in a 1-run elimination game
  • A runner on with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th in a 1-run elimination game
  • The probable league MVP representing the  winning run with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th in an elimination game

That’s quite a list.  The fact that the Pirates ended up on the losing side of this matters – don’t get me wrong.  It would have been much more fun to write this after Cutch hit the ball over the fence.

But the playoffs don’t usually work that way. The playoffs usually seem to work a lot like life does.  Our greatest dreams as fans don’t typically come true.  In fact, much more often than not, teams lose.  Only one of ten playoff teams actually finish the season with a win.  That means roughly 90% of the baseball fans that are lucky enough to still care in October end up disappointed.  Odd are, we’ll be disappointed, too.

Sound a little fatalistic?  Maybe.  But that’s why yesterday just adds fuel to the fan fire.  If the Pirates won and we were just watching the calendar until the Dodgers series, we’d be left watching secondary teams vying for the AL side of things and chatting up nonsense on message boards and twitter.

With Wacha’s masterpiece and McCutchen’s pop-up, we get another hand-wringing, nail-chewing, heart-pounding night on the couch on Wednesday.  What else gets us baseball fans this worked up?

And if Pirates win on Wednesday… Gerrit Cole will be one of the heroes. Gerrit Cole, less than 2 years out of UCLA, an $8M #1 pick; a man whose 120 innings of MLB experience is being picked over AJ Burnett’s 150 wins of MLB experience for the biggest Pirates baseball game of the last 20 years.  (Yeah – that’s happening…)

And if the Pirates win on Wednesday…  They’ll spill champagne all over the visiting clubhouse in front of the entitled, spoiled, and altogether passionless Cardinals fans: The fans that have littered the internet with unbelievable amounts of homophobic, violent, anti-Pittsburgh venom; the fans making fun of Pittsburgh because PNC PArk is really loud during playoff games;  the fans supported by a mascot committed to poisoning our children and keeping the working class without healthcare or a livable wage.

Yesterday was hard.  But there’s a decent chance that it’ll just be a memorable footnote underneath the legend the 2013 Pirates are continuing to write.

Playoffs are awesome

2 Oct

I watched the game last night with two other Pirates fans.  In this part of the country, three Pirates fans in one room is unheard of.  One guy is my defection partner; the other a lifelong fan, a longtime dyed-in-the-wool sufferer.  He’s got Bream lines like I’ve got Bucky Dent lines.  (And why do all the villains’ names start with B?  Babe, Bucky, Buckner, Boone, Bream…)  We hunkered down with some pizza and chips (and giardiniera and kimchi – we’re classy fans, you know) and watched it unfold.

There’s nothing quite like playoff baseball.  Every (and I mean every) pitch matters.  Sure there can be stretches of distracted attention (it is baseball, after all) that we used to explore the vocal stylings of Cowboy Joe West (view here), but the ebbs and flows of a nine inning winner-takes-all bout is the playground of legends.  And Russell Martin and Francisco Liriano took that opportunity to etch their names into Pirates lore.

I have many, many playoff baseball memories – radio voices, TV images, and in-the-stands emotion.  You haven’t lived until you’ve been in a bouncing concrete stadium.

The obvious has been stated on a hundred blogs and columns already, but the win last night was direct evidence of the magic that Neal Huntington, Clint Hurdle, and the rest have put on the field this year.  The four-five hitters on a playoff team acquired on waiver deals?  Two home-runs and flawless catching stolen from the mighty Yankees last winter?  Seven innings of dominant pitching from a scrap heap arm on a 2-year contract?  And four times safely on-base from the (likely) MVP signed to a hometown, long-term deal that came up through the system.  Unreal.

Now this show is headed to St. Louis – home of the corporate trons in red.  The vanilla capital of baseball with the cordial fanbase and lifeless efficiency on the field.  At least La Russa’s gone…

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