Showing posts with label Cleveland Indians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cleveland Indians. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

The Reds and Aroldis Chapman Go Headhunting. Again.


My high school principal, the great Sr. Regina Claire, used to say, 'if wishes were horses, we'd all be riders.' I'm not quite sure what that meant, but to that I would add, if baseball were hockey, Reds closer Aroldis Chapman would be a cheap-shotting, head-hunting dirtbag. He is a goon in a ballcap. Plain and simple. It seems that every time I turn on a Reds game, Chapman, who has nasty, wicked stuff and frequently hits 100 mph on the radar gun, is throwing at somebody and usually right at their heads. Here he is throwing at Nick Swisher's head. And here he is drilling Andrew McCutchen in the shoulder. I could do this all day, by the way.

The problem isn't merely Chapman (although he's the most egregious of the bunch), but the entire Reds pitching staff. And it's been going on for some time. A couple of weeks ago, Reds starter Johnny Cueto didn't like the looks of Cub David DeJesus, or some such utter BS or perceived slight, and threw over his head. Last season, the day after Chapman drilled McCutchen up high (the above video), starting pitcher Mike Leake hit second baseman Josh Harrison. The day after that, Homer Bailey hit (then) Pirates catcher Rod Barajas, and later in that same game, Reds reliever Alfredo Simon hit Starling Marte.

Last night, the Reds were at it again. In the 4th inning, Leake threw at and successfully hit McCutchen, who must feel like he's wearing nothing but a giant bull's eye the moment he sets foot in Cincy. In the 9th inning, Chapman rooted around in his typical bag of tricks and threw right at Neil Walker's chin with a 99 mph heater. It was actually kinda scary.

If the fish rots from the head down, no river carp laying dead on the banks of the Ohio River ever stunk as much as the Cincinnati Reds and their skipper, Dusty Baker. Heck, after Chapman went after Swisher, Baker said baseball players should be permitted to fight, a'la hockey. Just as hockey is actually trying to clean up head hunting, Baker is all for it. Cretin much, Dusty?

The problem for the Pirates (and MLB, I would say) is this -- What to do? How do you stop dangerous blitzkreig of the Cincinnati Reds pitching staff?

Well, the Pirates Clint Hurdle has tried the New Testament approach, which is to say, turning the other cheek. Pirates pitchers have not gone after Reds batters.

Needless to say, after last night's display by the Reds, this is not a very effective approach.

Which prompts many to say that the Pirates should go all Old Testament, retaliate eye for an eye baseball style. Basically, one of the Pirates pitchers should just go out and bean every Reds batter he can, as Dock Ellis did in 1974?

This appeals to many baseball purists, the people who talk about the good old days of chin music and coming in to 2nd base, spikes high. Baseball is a strange sport, shrouded in nostalgia almost from the day it was born, filled with unwritten rules, codes of conduct, acceptable modes of trash talk and, probably if we dig deep enough, preferred methods of tobacco spitting. Those of us who love baseball have tacitly agreed to love the nostalgic baggage and codicils (above), or at least tolerate them. Not only in baseball, but most pointedly in baseball, are folks likely to grab onto the sepia toned cloth of yesteryear. All of which brings me back around to this strange nostalgia baseball fans have for pitchers retaliating.

I used to joke that I wanted to develop a children's cartoon wherein Randy Johnson and Pedro Martinez roamed the land, vigilante-like, felling various evil-doers and miscreants by drilling them right in the ear with 95+ mph heaters, the equivalent of the old ACME anvil dropping on Wile E. Coyote's head. I still think it's a good idea for a cartoon, but out here in the real world,  it's not Yosemite Sam being blown up by his own dynamite, but the potential for career-ending, life-altering injuries we're talking about.

Seriously, if you threw a baseball at somebody's head anywhere but the baseball diamond, you would be charged with attempted assault. In fact, it might be considered aggravated assault, given that you were using a weapon, not merely your bare hands. Now, that's just you or me, I'm talking about. In terms of velocity, we're nowhere near what a professional can do, to say nothing of the flame throwing Aroldis Chapman vis-a-vis danger to another human's noggin.

Here's what can be done. Enough of this warning both teams BS. Enough treating Baker with kid gloves. Don't warn both teams when one team is throwing at guys and the other isn't. How about umps start using their brains, too? In the 2012 sequence laid out above, after the Josh Harrison beaning, the umpire warned both benches. What the ...?

Hey Blue, this isn't pee wee baseball. Not everybody gets a trophy. And not everybody deserves a warning.
The warning should have been issued to Baker and Baker alone.

And the same goes for the start of the game tonight. The Reds bench should get a warning before the national anthem singer begins warming up. Tell Baker, if your pitchers hit one more batter, I'm tossing you and the pitcher. (In the words of Sheriff Bullock, "I put you on notice.") And if it happens again, MLB has to suspend Baker. Maybe that will get the message through to him. Although, maybe not.

But MLB won't do that. Because MLB loves it's silly unwritten rules and players "policing the game" and blah, blah, blah. You know what that gets you? That gets you the beanball orgy and ensuing ridiculous bench-clearing brawl that took place between the Diamondbacks and Dodgers just about a week ago. Remind me -- exactly what was the point of all that stupidity and machismo parading as hallowed baseball traditions?

And so because baseball doesn't have the guts to punish their bullies, I guess Clint Hurdle is going to have to have his guys throw at Joey Votto. And then the Reds will throw some more at McCutchen. And then the umps will warn both benches. And the next night the Reds will go after somebody else ... lather, rinse, repeat.

You know what I would be down with? One of the Pirates pitchers firing 98 mph heaters. Right at Dusty Baker's head.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Five Teams to Head Bang By

trueslant.com/jodydiperna/2009/07/16/five-teams-that-make-fans-want-to-smash-their-heads-on-their-desks/

From True/Slant on July 16, 2009:

Five Teams that make fans want to smash their heads on their desks

There are teams whose fans throw up their hands in disgust, wallow in despair and watch through paper bags. There are franchises with nothing to celebrate in the rear-view nor any promise of success on the horizon.

Then there are the Pittsburgh Pirates, a franchise in pursuit of a record breaking 17th consecutive losing season. Somehow, the locals remain invested enough to smack their faces off their desks in frustration. Trust me, I know.

It’s particularly bad because Pittsburgh fans can always point to the other local franchises, and few hold up well against the standard set by the Super Bowl champ Steelers and Stanley Cup champ Penguins. Of course, the Pirates don’t help themselves much by (a) losing a lot, (b) trading away nearly every player with any talent, spark or connection to the fans, and (c) losing a lot. (The losing. It bothers folks.)

Still, I suppose there are worse things than being a Pirates fan. Like having your eyelashes tweezed out one by one. Or being questioned by a knuckleheaded pissant like Jeff Sessions. But keeping in the world of sports, as the Pirates complete their annual crawl of shame, here’s my very unscientific short list of fans who have it worse than I do as a Buccos fan:

New York Knicks. Only the Knicks would amass a payroll larger than the GNP of Papua New Guinea and fail so miserably on court. Only the Knicks could allow Isiah Thomas to run the team into the ground from the front office, then add head coach to his job description. To add whipped cream and cherries to it, he was paid to stick around but kinda go away. There is failure, there is incompetence, there is malfeasance. And then there is Isaiah Thomas. It may get better for Knicks fans, but to hoops fans all over New York, particularly those who grew up with Frazier or Ewing, it must feel like James Dolan purchased the team specifically for the purpose of torturing them. Commence head banging.

Buffalo Bills. Remember back in the 1990’s when the Bills lost the first of their four consecutive Super Bowl losses on an errant, last-minute field goal try? Yeah, well those were the good old days for Bills fans. Ownership is financially strapped and there has been talk of moving the team. Since the retirement of Hall of Famer Jim Kelly, the fans have witnessed such luminary quarterbacks as Drew Bledsoe (past his expiration date), Kelly Holcomb, Alex Van Pelt (I am not making that up), J.P. Losman and Trent Edwards. The Bills wear some of the busiest, most hideous uniforms in all of the NFL. And, as though Buffalo fans haven’t suffered enough, enter Terrell Owens (and his shadow, Drew Rosenass.) Good times.

Cleveland. You cannot look at any one single Cleveland franchise without recognizing the sorry state of affairs all over. Context, like timing, is everything. Cleveland fans haven’t enjoyed a championship of any kind since the 1964 Browns. In the 1980’s the Browns lost to the Broncos in back to back AFC Championship games, dubbed “The Drive” and “The Fumble.” but they would be more appropriately titled, “Kill Me, I’m A Browns Fan,” and “Please Kill Me, I’m a Browns Fan.” Did I mention the hijacking, um, relocation of the franchise a decade later? Yeah, that, too.

The Indians came close to a title, but lost in the 1995 World Series to the Braves. And for a super-special encore, they followed that up with the 1997 soul-crushing loss to the Marlins. Do not say the name Jose Mesa in northern Ohio unless you want a fist to the throat.

Those kinds of things take a toll on the collective sports psyche of a town, so much so that ESPN conferred the title of most tortured sports fans on Cleveland a few years back.

But, you say, the Cavaliers have King James! They just got Shaq! This is the year, baby. Except I can’t hear you over the constant, ear-ringing din about Lebron leaving for a bigger market as soon as this contract is up. Every media outlet from Boardman, Oh. to Bristol, Ct. insists he’s already gone, ready to trot off to some bigger market to make more money and become more famous. (I wonder, how much more famous could the guy even be?) Lebron’s assumed departure must hang over Cleveland fans like the sword of Damocles. It’s no way for the city to enjoy what might be the last best chance it has at a title.

Detroit Lions. No list of of futility can skip the team which drives fans to the streets with torches and pitch forks while burning the general manger in effigy. The dome? Football indoors is depressing all by itself. Add the Lions to the equation and I can actually feel my body decaying while I watch them. The Lions draft record was once read at a comedy club. It killed.

Some fans have their hopes dashed every year, but at least they have hope. Despair, thy name is Detroit.

Chicago Cubs. When I was a younger, I thought Cubs fans were reinvigorated each spring. They seemed excited when pitchers and catchers reported for spring training and the tingle of a new start mingled with the spring chill that typically remains on opening day at Wrigley. They kept their hopes for a championship just barely under wraps, but they were there. Oh, they were there. Cubs fans meant it when they said get ‘em next year.

In more recent years, in the post-Bartman era, I get the feeling that a century without a title has gotten the best of them. Cubs faithful are tighter, crankier, and just barely teetering on the edge of sanity. Misery loves company. Maybe it all turned sour after the Boston Red Sox fans and crosstown Chi-White Sox fans got to celebrate in 2004 and 2005. With those historic wins, Cubs fans stood alone as the loneliest long-suffering franchise. It doesn’t seem fun for fans anymore, which is a bummer even for me. Every loss carries the weight of 100 years, every missed opportunity seems inevitable. The Cubs are the face of disappointment. Goats optional.

Honorable mention: L.A. Clippers, Ottawa Senators, N.Y. Jets, Hartford Whalers (I interviewed some locals a couple of years ago for a story on Ron Francis; they’re still bitter).