As you know, I am not a White Sox fan. However, it will be extremely strange
to go through this next summer without Frank Thomas. During his 16 years in Chicago, he earned the right to be considered one of this city's greatest sports icons. Personal feelings about the Sox aside, I've always admired Thomas's accomplishments as an individual. Few players in history produced power and average numbers with such consistency. There's no question in my mind that he's the best player in Sox history. If he doesn't make Cooperstown within the first few ballots, I'll gladly take up his case in the crazy letters I write to the various Hall of Fame selection committees in regards to Ron Santo. Frank was a true gamer.
I wish he would retire as a member of the Sox, but he won't. Apparently, he has no choice but to continue playing because he's completely broke. Divorces, bad financial advice, and an ultra-luxuriant lifestyle have a terrible way of eating through money in a hurry. For example, he built a mega-house in the western suburbs that has been described as unmarketable, because it is too big to be a house, but too small to be a hotel. Could you imagine blowing $100 million? His family should be set for generations. From a fan's perspective, it is a terrible shame that we'll have to watch this great giant's skills decline in another team's colors, when we will forever remember him in the black, white, and gray of the White Sox. Modern sport offers too many sad stories like this.
So long, Big Hurt.
As you might expect, I am very excited that the Cubs traded for Juan Pierre. It concerns me somewhat, however, that we gave up so many young arms to get him. Whatever: The deal is done. He's a lefty leadoff hitter who plays a prodigious center field, gets on base nearly every game, and has remarkable speed on the base paths. Let's forget that this description matches Corey Patterson's scouting reports of old; Pierre has shown over the last several years that he's the real deal, and he will have an immediate impact. If Lee and Ramirez each get their 500-odd turns at-bat next year, Pierre should score 100 runs, and that's a low-ball figure.
I hear rumors that the Cubs are also going after occasional problem child Milton Bradley. I have some concerns about this move as well, but then I think it might not be such a bad one. Bradley is a switch-hitter and has great skills at the plate and on the field. Maybe Dusty's "bro-buddy-man" clubhouse will negate some of Bradley's past indiscretions, and perhaps the unconditional love of Cubs Nation will have a calming influence on his sour attitude.
The Cubs 2006 Opening Day starting nine as of right now, if we get Bradley, if I were the manager:
1 Pierre L 8
2 Barrett 2
3 Lee 3
4 Ramirez 5
5 Bradley S 9
6 Murton 7
7 Walker L 4
8 Cedeno 6
9 Zambrano S 1
This is pure fantasy, of course, for two main reasons.
First, Dusty would never bat Michael Barrett 2nd. It seems like a strange idea at first, but consider Barrett as a number 2 hitter for a moment: He sees a lot of pitches; he gets on base; he hits a lot of doubles; he's reasonably fast for a catcher. (Remember, Barrett is a converted third baseman. It wouldn't seem so odd to have a third baseman batting second, but your perception totally changes when that same player becomes the catcher. I think this is absurd.) They'd never make this move, though, because it would make too much sense. Welcome to the Cubs.
Second, management has given every indication that Todd Walker is on the way out. They'll likely package him and Patterson for someone, maybe a pitcher or another outfielder. I will be very disappointed if this player turns out to be Kevin Mench. I just am not too enamored of him, and I cannot put a finger on why this is exactly, because he is capable of getting on base and appears to have a ton of upside. He just doesn't strike me as the guy we need to get the job done in the outfield, especially when Matt Murton's skills appear to be on the rise. Maybe the Cubs can instead trade Corey Patterson for Jose Vidro, assuming that the Nats would like fill the gaps in the outfield created by the departure of Brad Wilkerson and Terrmel Sledge, and both sides are likely aware that Alfonso Soriano and Vidro cannot play second base at the same time. Or, maybe the Cubs will unload the pair for Bobby Abreu, who is apparently being actively shopped by Philly. I'd be happy with either Abreu or Vidro, but not Mench. If they get Vidro, I'd move Barrett to 6th, Murton to 7th, and Vidro to 2nd. If they get Abreu, move Ramirez to 5th, and bat Abreu clean up. That's just my opinion. What do I know?
God, I love baseball so much. Even with the wind blowing sub-zero air at my face every time I step outside, thoughts of the 6-4-3 double play, guys scoring from first, and ideal pitch sequences dominate my free time. Pitchers and catchers report in roughly 70 days. I can't wait.
As I may have mentioned in an earlier post, I do not read baseball books while the season is in progress. I'll buy them from time to time over the course of the summer, but they are taken out of the store bag and placed directly onto my bookshelf, whereupon I steadfastly ignore them for months at a time. The reason for this is simple. There are millions of news stories and analyses to pour over in-season, so I can get a baseball fix whenever I please. My summer reading list includes books about history, philosophy, economics, and fiction, to provide my mind with an occasional break from baseball. Once the World Series is over, and the game feels distant and unavailable, I dive headfirst into my beloved library of baseball literature. Because I love reading and baseball with equal passion, I almost enjoy the winter as much as the season. Actually, this isn't really the case, but it's close enough to the truth to keep me from death by boredom during the long winter months of November through March.
I finished
"Three Nights in August" by Buzz Bissinger on Monday night. I've heard a lot of people give it rave reviews, but I honestly didn't love it all that much. Bissinger's research skills and his level of access are extraordinary, but his writing style is not overly engaging. (When I say, "not overly engaging," I mean that not a single sentence is burned into my memory, and I feel like any decent writer could have suggested significant improvements to the flow in a number of spots. He would benefit by a new editor, or a refresher course on composition.) The story revolves around a classic Cubs-Cardinals series played at Busch Stadium, starring Tony LaRussa and his Cards as the heroes, with Dusty and the Cubbies cast as the enemies, in the throes of the 2003 pennant race. It was difficult for me as a rabid Cubs fan to read a minute deconstruction of my team from a mortal enemy's point of view, and I hated knowing that the Cards ultimately took 2 of 3 in that important series.
The most annoying thing about "Three Nights" is how Bissinger totally cops out toward the end, giving the conclusion less of a crescendo and more of a petering out effect. The third game of the series, for example, is almost totally glossed over. Also, the Cubs finished the season 1 game ahead of the Astros and 3 games ahead of the Cards, a fact which is mentioned in a very off-handed way in the morass of an epilogue that seems hurried and incoherent. Further, Bissinger fast-forwards through most of the 2004 regular season, in order to make a mostly lame comment: LaRussa was okay with getting swept by the Red Sox in the 2004 World Series, because his team played so well during the regular season. This left me wondering why Bissinger didn't write a book about the 2004 Cardinals and their run to the World Series, instead of an unnecessarily detailed snapshot from a season that suffered a rather ignominious fate. Without a doubt, the book's weak ending overshadows the better parts contained in the earlier chapters, and there's nothing worse than a story with a disappointing ending. I don't think I'll read this one again, at least not for several years.
Yesterday, I resumed my winter reading ritual with a fantastic selection:
"Game Time: A Baseball Companion" by Roger Angell. It is a collection of baseball stories written since 1962, arranged by the time of year the individual stories were written. It indirectly sheds light on all these terrific moments that make the game such a treasure. Angell, who covers baseball for
The New Yorker, is an absolutely beautiful writer. This book embodies the anachronistic idea of a primarily literary-oriented magazine featuring a regular sports writer. He presents baseball as worthy of love, but capable of great heartbreak. It's an adult profession, but it's a child's game. Like Spring Training, baseball matters, but it doesn't. Books as good as this one remind me that baseball is beautiful, and knowing that its glorious return is quickly impending helps me to fend off the miserable withdrawal symptoms with which I struggle each and every off-season.
