Heinous Whiffs, Huge Dingers, Throwing Leather. Or How I Learned to Relax and Love Pedro.

(photo:  Justin K. Aller/Getty Images North America)

He whiffs too much.

He's undisciplined at the plate.

His batting average is too low.

He can't lay off the high heat.

He can't hit a curveball.

He looks bad striking out.

Am I missing any of the routine criticisms of Pirates 3rd baseman, Pedro Alvarez? I'm sure I'm missing some; the Pedro hate seems to be endless. If you're a Pedro hater, I was once like you, more a basher than a hater really, but I was highly skeptical of his ability to ever turn into a proper MLB player. I didn't think he had good pitch recognition and I honestly didn't know if that could be fixed, or even improved, to say nothing of his defensive short-comings. But I've come to a place of peace and tranquility vis-a-vis young Pedro.

You can, too.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the fact that Pedro Alvarez is a streaky hitter.

That is the largest part of the serenity plan, simply accepting that Alvarez is streaky and, here's where it get's tricky, trusting that the dips and valleys are finite and generally followed by hot streaks. You have to believe deep in your soul that no matter how bad he looks whiffing one week, you'll be fist bumping two weeks later watching one majestic homer after another. Putting your faith in this, I will admit, is no small task. It can be done. He may not hit taters and drill doubles into the gap on your timetable, but he most assuredly will do so. Just try to muddle through the lulls and enjoy the highs.

(photo:  Vincent Pugliese/Getty Images North America)

He also, will most assuredly strike out and sometimes look really bad in so doing. Pedro has struck out 84 times in 224 plate appearances this year, which means, if you turn on a Buccos game, you are likely to see Petey whiff. Not to mention that the ratio of SO to ABs is up from last year. [This year, it's one SO per every 2.67 AB; in 2012 it was one SO per every 2.91 AB.]

But Pedro is not alone. Increasing strike out rates are blowing through MLB like swine flu, er, H1N1. Here's ESPN's baseball guru, Tim Kurkjian on the rise in strike outs, league-wide:

The start of this striKeout craze came in 1986-87 when Rob Deer, Pete Incaviglia, Cory Snyder, Bo Jackson and Jim Presley started playing every day. Each strucK out 150 times a year but hit 20 to 30 homers; and as quickly as a Bryce Harper home run leaves the ballpark, it was OK to K. Since then, the striKeout rate has steadily climbed to where it is now: a pace that will make 2013 the biggest striKeout season ever. Through May, the nine biggest striKeout months in history had been the past nine months. In April, there were 15.29 striKeouts per game, five more per game than the average in the 1980s. May (14.98 per game) and the first half of June (15.01) were hardly better. It's an epidemic that, at this pace, has no cure.

Beyond which, the Pirates as a club are strike out machines, ranking behind only the Astros, Braves and Red Sox in sheer numbers.

You can talk to me about the good old days all you want, remind me that the great Ted Williams hit 37 four-baggers in the same season that he hit .403, and that he never struck out more than 64 times in a season. Think about that -- one of the great power hitters of all time struck out on average 50 times  season. Fifty!  Pedro is a good player, but he's no Ted Williams. There has never been another like him and I doubt there ever will be. In this day and age, power hitters strike out. A ton.

Would I like to see Pedro strike out less? Yes. At the very least, I'd like that strike out ratio to climb back to a more respectable 1:3. In the meantime, I'm watching his OPS climb to where it needs to be (by my estimate around .900 and I think it will get there.) There's been a steady increase through the season -- OPS in April? .560. OPS in May? .794. OPS in June (so far)? .979.

(photo:  Marcio Jose Sanchez/AP)

Leaving behind all the sabermetrics for a moment, let's acknowledge that even if you didn't have any numbers in front of you, didn't have access to them, and, in fact, were not even permitted to crunch numbers, you'd have to acknowledge that Pedro is a different hitter in 2013 than he was in 2012 and in 2011. Not hugely different. Not like the difference between, say, 'Breaking Bad,' and 'True Blood'; more like the difference between season one of 'Justifed', which was smart, funny entertainment, and season two, which was smart, funny and entertaining, but which also had more richness and nuance than the first season. [When grappling with tough baseball analogies, always go cable network drama, I say.]

He has become an asset in the field, making some nice picks along the line and using that howitzer of an arm to wing on-target throws to 1st base. This is no small thing. With the starting rotation held together with Clint Hurdle's left over chewing gum, cotton candy and free t-shirts (currently, AJ Burnett, Wandy Rodriquez and Jeanmar Gomez are all on the DL), they need all the help they can get manufacturing outs in the field.

Yesterday, the Pirates needed to find a way to split a four-game series with the Reds. If there can be such a thing as a 'must win' game around the solstice, to my mind, this was it. Because of their baggage, 20 years of losing ways, a solid 18 years of being the doormats of the NL, some games are important on a psychic level. The Reds love pushing around the Pirates. They like beating them and they love to intimidate them. Which is why I think it was important for the Bucs to get a split in that little bandbox they call Great American. And nobody came up bigger than Pedro Alvarez.

In a few weeks, he'll hit a mini-slump, Hurdle will have to drop him back down to 6th in the batting order, and everybody will lose their minds. But a few days or weeks after that, he'll snap out of it, start crushing balls, and turning in multiple RBI games. Of that, I have faith.

Serenity Prayer for the AFC Championship

Chief (or God, whatevs),

Grant me the serenity to make it through this week's game without throwing anything or actually physically injuring myself. (You know what I'm talking about. January, 2006 ... Indianapolis ... I don't think I need to go on.) Grant me the courage and grace to wish the Jets well should they outplay my Steelers. And grant me the wisdom to take a xanax after the game Sunday night so that I can get some sleep.

Truly, I am trying to go into this game with a sense of perspective.

Back in August, did anybody seriously expect the Steelers to even be playing in the AFC Championship game? Be honest, now. Nobody expected this [except Peter King, who predicted a Packers-Steelers Super Bowl.]

But most of SteelerNation wisely lowered our expectations, given that the Steelers were coming off a heinous 2009 season with the defense looking old, pliable, to be brutally honest, fair to middling. We thought the playoffs might be out of reach, given that the team was heading into the 2010 season without Pig Ben for the first four games, with Santonio Holmes gone to the Jets (of all freaking places), with Willie Colon lost for the season before the pre-season even started. Think back to those days when it was hot, rather than a sheet of ice outside and who among us thought they could win even 10 games? Personally, I figured it would be another disappointing 9-7 year.

The fact that the Steelers are playing in this game is gravy and I will do my best to be mindful of that Sunday night, despite the temptation to get swept up in the emotion of the thing.

That the Steelers are not only playing in this game, but hosting it? Well, that's some Top Chef worthy gravy on top of gravy.

Hosting this game is an absolute good. No matter the outcome.

I heard on the radio yesterday that the Winter Classic brought $22 or $23 million in revenue into the city. Last year, when the Steelers missed the playoffs altogether, the Trib reported that losing just one game was a loss of about $18 million in income. Anecdotally, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to see how good it is for the city. Go down to the Strip District on Saturday morning and just try to find a parking space anywhere closer than the 31st Street Bridge. It's not just revenue from Polamalu jerseys, Terrible Towels and black and gold t-shirts that read, "Drink Up Yinz Bitches" -- it's hotels, restaurants, bars, etc., and I remain convinced that supermarkets and beer distributors see an uptick in sales, as people load up with game day fixins'. Bartenders and waitresses all over Western Pennsylvania rejoice!

As to the opposition, well, first a big, big thank you to Mark Sanchez and Company for sparing us all from a Steelers trip to Foxboro.

Next, let me run down the list of Jets players I hate ... um ... Surely there are some. Wait, I'm sure there's somebody, one player, per my friend Smiley:

"Antonio Cromartie stomped on The Towel when he ran out of the tunnel before kickoff of the Chargers playoff game I went to two years ago. Welcome back to Pittsburgh, Antonio. The Towel never forgets."

So there's that. One must never, ever disrespect the Towel. But that's only one player, a woefully low percentage of players for whom I harbor any enmity compared to say, the Patriots or my historical pantheon of hatred for the Cowboys and the Raiders.

Plus, I was a big Darrelle Revis fan back when he played for Pitt, so if we're being honest here, I would root FOR the Jets over a good number of possible AFC opponents. Hate the Jets? Nah. Not really.

What about Rex Ryan, you say? It's true that many (maybe most) of my friends have had enough of the Sexy Rex Ryan show, but I love Rex. The guy is funny, he's entertaining, he seems to be really, very much himself and that's refreshing. Last year, going into a game with the Colts, he said, "We're going to start with the injury report. Manning, Clark, Addai, Reggie Wayne, Freeney, Mathis, Brackett. ... All those guys will not play. Tom Moore, Howard Mudd and John Teerlink should get more extended Christmas break, it says here. Oh, hold up. That was my wish list for Santa Claus."

This year, before a game with the Browns, Rex showed up in a wig and Browns cap, mocking his brother Rob, the Browns defensive coordinator. I swear, I watched it every time they ran it on SportsCenter and laughed my ass off every time.

But it's not all bluster and trash-talk. After his team went out and got their asses soundly beaten (45-3) by the New England Patriots in prime-time about a month ago, Ryan took the heat off his guys, saying that the loss was on him, that Bill Belichick outcoached, "I came in here to kick his butt and he kicked mine." And even after the Jets stunning upset of the Pats on Sunday night, Ryan said that Belichick still outcoached him, but that his players, Ryan's players, outplayed the Pats. Nice. Take credit for the losses, give credit for the wins. I'm not quite sure why people dislike this guy. Seriously.

So, I am going to do my best to remain calm, keep things in perspective. It's a football game, after all. One I never expected the Steelers to be in, one I never expected the city to benefit from hosting, so I'm going to try to remind myself of all of the above, if things start to run off the rails sometime around 8:00 on Sunday night.

All bets are off, however, if the Steelers give up a special teams touchdown.