At its core, baseball is a wonderfully precise game sandwiched by two humongous slices of random -- the postseason and the amateur draft.
Every fall, the methodically revealing regular season gives way to playoff series of irrepressible volatility. To the chagrin of some, the game’s finely tuned averages descend into a month of total statistical anarchy. I call it a beautiful anarchy. Then again, I’m not a Cubs fan.
Every summer, the complex and meticulously crafted system of player development begins anew with the hopelessly speculative exercise of the amateur draft. Without belaboring the obvious, it’s safe to say that the draft serves a different purpose in baseball than it does in other sports. It’s long (like, 40 round long) and its primary purpose is to project how good draftees will be in 3 to 5 years, not how good they are now. Naturally, the MLB amateur draft produces a much higher degree of variability as a result.
“How can you ask someone to live in the world, to exist in the world, and not have something to say about injustice?” -- John Carlos
“Because you’re a baseball player that doesn’t mean you get detached from society — at least you shouldn’t” -- Carlos Delgado
Carlos Delgado never appeared destined for superstardom. He spent the most productive years of his career playing in Canada, for a team that never won much. That alone surely blunted the impact of his 473 home runs and 1512 RBI.
By the time he arrive in New York the moment had passed. He was a great player, a great contributor, a feared hitter, but the fickle realm of superstardom cares little for stats or impact. He was older and clearly in decline, not fit for commercial deals or shoe contracts. Besides, there were younger, more energizing talents around him, the David Wrights and Jose Reyeses and even Carlos Beltrans of the day.
The recently retired Braden Looper belongs to an exclusive, fairly prestigious club.
Surprising, I know, so let me explain.
Over the past ten seasons (2001-2010) only 19 players, by my count, have won championships with two different teams. Looper is one of those chosen 19. In 2003 he tasted glory with the upstart Florida Marlins, earning a save in game 4 of that year’s World Series even though by then he’d largely been replaced as the team’s primary closer. By 2006 he was back again, this time with the similarly plucky St. Louis Cardinals, also playing a relief role during their run to the title.
Not surprisingly, the list of two-team, two-time winners is flush with the guys of Looper’s caliber: lefty specialists and setup men and multiple-position infielders and pinch hitters and aging outfielders with a little bit of pop and, well, you get the point. For the most part they aren’t franchise players because 1) the list of franchise players is small to begin with and 2) franchise players tend to stay with the same one (or two) franchises.
Cal Ripken Jr. never had a chance.
No, this is an honor generally bestowed on journeymen, the ones who keep a suitcase packed every July when the trading deadline rolls around, the ones who eschew mansions for the more mover-friendly luxury lofts. And among them only the lucky few can look back on a 10-year career with 5 different franchises and know, rings on hand, that they cheated their baseball fate.
I now present, in honor of Mr. Looper, a starting 9 and accompanying bench composed entirely of players who carry this proud distinction.
With Scot Shields leaving us, who will carry the torch for baseball players with common first names spelled in uncommon ways?
The question merits a list:
1) Jarrod Saltalamacchia C, Red Sox
The last name gets all the attention, but “Jarrod” ain’t exactly normal. If I were a bully in Jarrod’s third grade class I would separate the two syllables and call him Jar-rod. It wouldn’t mean much, except that they’re both English words and I would say it in a mocking tone, like “How’s your jar of rods, Jar-rod?” Then I would run for cover because presumably a third grade version of Jarrod Saltalamacchia could kick my ass.
Conclusion: I would make a terrible bully.
In the simplest terms, Mike Hampton was a good pitcher.
He won 148 games over 15 major league seasons and, for a precious few years, ranked among the top left-handed starters in baseball. He helped the Mets to the 2000 National League Pennant, won 22 games for the Astros in 1999, and carried an ERA under 4.00, while throwing 150+ innings for six consecutive seasons (1995-2000) during baseball’s most home-run-happy era.
You'll hear little talk of those accomplishments in the days following his retirement announcement.
In his waning years Scot Shields had all the markings of a player nearing retirement: aging body, nagging injures, consecutive years of statistical regression. So when the the versatile reliever -- who spent all ten of his major league seasons with the Anaheim/Los Angeles Angels (of Anaheim) -- hung ‘em up this past weekend, it came as little surprise.
The decision, predictable as it was, signified the final flash of a passing era. As Jeff Sullivan of SB Nation points out, Shields was the last remaining player from the Angels’ 2002 title-winning team still on LA’s roster. Couple that with the recent retirement of fellow Angel reliever Brendan Donnelly and franchise hit leader Garret Anderson, and one can sense the ‘02 Angels receding quickly into the annals of baseball lore.
A partially-researched list of notable bespectacled hurlers:
1) Eric Gagne
No amount of goggles could ever persuade me to pronounce his name the french way. Hear me now Eric Gag-knee, I shall heckle you in my native tongue.
2) Brandon League
He’s become such a celebrity in the Seattle area that locals have taken to substituting his first name for his last in normal conversation as in, "She's out of my Brandon" or "20,000 Brandons under the sea."
Correction...no one does this.
3) Duaner Sanchez
Officially recognized as world’s most successful person named Duaner.
