Seeing the Cubs vs Rays in 2008

Apparently the Rays were on ESPN Wednesday night. To be honest, even though I've lived in Tampa for the last two years, I've never seen the Rays on ESPN. I even missed this broadcast. You know why?

I was there.

Being that the Cubs and Rays both are among the best teams in baseball this year, to say I couldn't wait for this series was an understatement. I was curious to see how the Cubs would draw in Tropicana Field. I was eager to see this Fukudome guy. And I couldn't wait to talk a little back-and-forth with some my favorite fellow sports bloggers.

So because it is pretty late, I am going with the Readers' Digest condensed point style (kinda sorta like Tiger Style, but not as fatal):

- Before the game the local sports bar was completely covered in Cubbie blue (more on the "Cubbie" thing later). Being that good beer knows no enemies, I chatted for a bit with a few fans. Like I said, I was eager to know who traveled and who was actually from Florida. One guy I talked to came all the way from Des Moines. He said most of the flights to Florida leaving the airport were packed with Cubs fans.

- I'll admit, the Trop isn't even close to Wrigley Field. But it is our home, for now anyway. To paraphrase the ancient philosoph Donnie Rumsfeld, "You play ball in the stadium you got, not the one you want approved in November".

- Looking at the lineup, why was Mark DeRosa in left field? When did he become a LF'er? I thought he was a second baseman? What about the great Thunder Matt, the Mighty Matt Murton?

- Sure enough, DeRosa's shaky outfield defense proved to be a liability early, allowing the Rays to score first.

- In the third, with the Rays pestering Carlos Zambrano with numerous singles, I swear I almost saw smoke coming out of Zambrano's ears. He was not happy. I think I will dub him "Mount Zambrano". Not only is he a big dude, but he looks like he is about to blow at any moment.

- The last two games I've gone to have both been Andy Sonnanstine starts. Although I thought I was jinxing him earlier this season, he is actually not pitching that bad of late with me in the house. His JSIA ERA (Jordi Scrubbings in attendance ERA) is definitely a lot lower than it was.

- In the 6th inning, down 5-3 (maybe 5-2, I'm too lazy to look it up), Lou Pinella finally came to his senses and put Matt Murton in for 84-year old Jim Edmonds. Needless to say, the Redheaded Messiah came through with a single.

- During the seventh inning stretch, I did something I have always wanted to do. I sang "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" with thousands of Cubs fans. Ever since I first saw Harry Caray on TV singing at Wrigley, I've always thought singing with Cubs fans would be fun. Of course, during the part where they say "root, root, root for the Cubbies", I yelled "root, root, root for the Rays". Because if the Rays don't win, it is actually a shame.

- Ok, on to the "Cubbies" matter. Cubs fans have a chant, "Let's go Cubbies". Not the quicker, more aggressive "Let's go Cubs", which might strike fear into the heart of opponents, but "Let's go Cubbies". Cubbies. Hardly intimidating. They sounded like they were cheering for a group of Saturday morning cartoon characters - The Cubbies.

- Before I end, I just want to say I really, really hope in that long list of super prospects the Rays have in the minors that there is a future closer somewhere. Troy Percival scares me.

- Oh, and Cubs fans are a bit weird. They haven't won it all since Teddy Roosevelt was in office, but they remain totally optimistic. Some were even talking about when, not if, they make the playoffs. Shouldn't they be bitter and pessimistic? More power to 'em, I guess.

- P.S. Not that I think he will ever read this, but to the Cubs fan who was talking smack and asking Rays fans "When was the last time the Rays made the playoffs?": keep in mind while the Rays have not made the playoffs in their 10-year existence, the Cubs went from 1945 to 1984 without making the postseason. That's 39 years, if my math is correct.

Rooting Against Florida

This weekend posed an interesting dilemma for me. Before I moved to Tampa, I didn’t care a wit about the Tampa Bay then-Devil Rays. Throughout all my travels and no matter where I've lived, the Mets have been my team. For those who have read this site for any amount of time know, I’ve discussed my feelings for Mets quite a bit.

Although I was and remain a die-hard Mets fan, the Marlins presented me my first internal fan conflict. Sometime after becoming a big league franchise in 1991, the first owners of the Florida Marlins decided to host their spring training in Melbourne, Fla., where I lived as a teenager. Needless to say, I went to see the Marlins and their minor league teams on a pretty regular basis. Being that the ballpark was 10 minutes away, I gathered my share of autographs, memorabilia, and memories. Even though I still loved my Mets, the Marlins were my hometown team. I even dared call myself a Marlins fan.

Knowing the Marlins and their history, I've often stood alongside true Marlins fans and defended the team through the years. I've countered arguments with people who disagreed with the team's trade-and-reload management style, those who thought the team should be relocated, and even those who believe the team should be contracted or somehow combined with the Tampa Bay franchise. And in what may be possibly my biggest display of Marlins fandom, I drove nearly eight hours from Tallahassee to Dolphins Stadium with my college roommate, an absolutely die-hard Marlins fan, to watch the Fish reveal their 2003 World Series banner on Opening Day 2004 (see pic).

But now, four years later, I’ve found myself pulling one of the cardinal sins of fandom. Last night, I went to the Rays-Marlins game and rooted wholeheartedly against the team from South Florida. They were the enemy, same as any other team visiting Tropicana Field. Like the thousand and thousands of other Tampa Bay Rays fans in attendance, I cheered the Rays and booed the Marlins. Then, to top it all off, I even sent a few obnoxious text messages to that same former college roommate, bragging about the Rays victory.

(Side note: In response to one of my barbs, my former roommate responded with the Patrick Roy-inspired “I can’t hear you with my two world series rings in my ear.” Say what you want about the Marlins and their fans, but they do have that going for them.)

So am I a sports flip-flopper? Am I an unloyal Marlins fan? Or can my brief dalliance with the Marlins be written off, as I have moved on and they no longer train in Melbourne? Although I don’t see my Marlins-Rays internal conflict comparing to my torn heart, I do think once again, I am one of the most internally confused fans I know.

It Sucks To Be a Florida Marlin

Before I begin, I have to admit the title of this post is strictly to get attention. Of course, the Marlins don't actually suck. But I couldn't resist any headline that even vaguely resembles the delightful tune of “It Sucks To Be a Florida Gator”.

That said, this weekend posed an interesting dilemma for me. Before I moved to Tampa, I didn’t care a wit about the Tampa Bay then-Devil Rays. Throughout all my travels and no matter where I've lived, the Mets have been my team. For those who have read this site for any amount of time know, I’ve discussed my feelings for Mets quite a bit.

Although I was and remain a die-hard Mets fan, the Marlins presented me my first internal fan conflict. Sometime after becoming a big league franchise in 1991, the first owners of the Florida Marlins decided to host their spring training in Melbourne, Fla., where I lived as a teenager. Needless to say, I went to see the Marlins and their minor league teams on a pretty regular basis. Being that the ballpark was 10 minutes away, I gathered my share of autographs, memorabilia, and memories. Even though I still loved my Mets, the Marlins were my hometown team. I even dared call myself a Marlins fan.

Knowing the Marlins and their history, I've often stood alongside true Marlins fans and defended the team through the years. I've countered arguments with people who disagreed with the team's trade-and-reload management style, those who thought the team should be relocated, and even those who believe the team should be contracted or somehow combined with the Tampa Bay franchise. And in what may be possibly my biggest display of Marlins fandom, I drove nearly eight hours from Tallahassee to Dolphins Stadium with my college roommate, an absolutely die-hard Marlins fan, to watch the Fish reveal their 2003 World Series banner on Opening Day 2004.

But now, four years later, I’ve found myself pulling one of the cardinal sins of fandom. Last night, I went to the Rays-Marlins game and rooted wholeheartedly against the team from South Florida. They were the enemy, same as any other team visiting Tropicana Field. Like the thousand and thousands of other Tampa Bay Rays fans in attendance, I cheered the Rays and booed the Marlins. Then, to top it all off, I even sent a few obnoxious text messages to that same former college roommate, bragging about the Rays victory.

(Side note: In response to one of my barbs, my former roommate responded with the Patrick Roy-inspired “I can’t hear you with my two world series rings in my ear.” Say what you want about the Marlins and their fans, but they do have that going for them.)

So am I a sports flip-flopper? Am I an unloyal Marlins fan? Or can my brief dalliance with the Marlins be written off, as I have moved on and they no longer train in Melbourne? Although I don’t see my Marlins-Rays internal conflict comparing to my torn heart, I do think once again, I am one of the most internally confused fans I know.

Confusion is tearing my heart apart

There was a time as a teen when I felt something similar to as I feel now. During my high school years, a certain local interest caught my eye. She was hot, young, and exciting. Back then, my affection for a distant lover was not as strong. Eventually, this sexy local interest lost what made her exciting and my heart overcame its dilemma.

Now, however, I don't know if I can be as strong.

Last year, hanging out with the local interest was a fun way to pass the time. I had no problem differentiating between the object of my desire and a friendly associate. I was head-over-heels in love with my long-distance love; anyone else was just a friend.

How things have changed.

My long-distance love has let her life go to hell. I feel bad saying this, and maybe I am too hard on her, but it's true. Since last summer, since we laughed and loved and talked about our October plans, she had become lazy, listless, and completely uninterested in being the best she can be. As I have mentioned before, watching her digression has become maddeningly frustrating.

Meanwhile, the local interest has become the talk of the town. After pulling herself out of the basement, nee the gutter, she has totally reinvented herself with new found confidence. She has gone from not-so-super to supermodel.

Although I used to talk openly about our friendship, her recent success has me curious about how life would be if we were exclusive. I even find myself slightly jealous whenever anyone talks about her lovingly. In a way, I guess I feel as if I found her first. But I know as long as my heart lies elsewhere and I stay committed to a struggling relationship, being jealous of my local interest's new fame is not fair to her, me, or my long-distance lover.

This is the most confused I have ever been. If only love was easy.

From the Bigs to the Buses

(This post originally appeared on Bus Leagues Baseball.com)

From the rural sandlots to the city stadiums, the basic premise of baseball – three strikes, three outs, nine innings, etc – remains constant. Sure, the talent level rises with every step to the majors, but does an increase in whiz-bang glitz and glamour make for a more entertaining game? Is happiness and emotional attachment at the ballpark directly related to cost and hype? Or have I been reading too much Freakonomics?

These questions are a result of seeing two games of various levels this past weekend. Last Friday night, I used one of my season tickets and saw James Shields of the Tampa Bay Rays one-hit the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The next night, I traveled to Viera, nee Melbourne, Florida, received a free ticket and watched the Class-A Florida State League Brevard County Manatees take on the Tampa Yankees.

As anyone who has followed my past writings knows, I am a closet Rays fan. Although I grew up a Mets fan, since moving to Tampa two years ago, I’ve had an interest in the Rays, especially in regards to the team’s transformation from doormat to dominant. So as an admirer, and not yet a full-blown fan, I was on my feet applauding what may have been the best pitching performance in franchise history.

Unlike my newfound fascination with the Rays, the Brevard County Manatees have been my favorite minor league team since their inception in 1994. Formerly a Marlins’ farm team, the Manatees are now the A-ball representative of the Milwaukee Brewers. Personally, I still wear the teal Manatees hat. I think it looks better than the newer red and blue version.

My two weekend destinations, independent of the score, couldn’t have been more different. A trip to the Trop is almost like a journey to the amusement park. Despite its reputation as a bad place for baseball, the Rays ownership has turned Tropicana Field into a fan friendly experience, with batting cages, speed gun contests, and plenty of other bells, whistles, gizmos, and doo-dads. The coup de grace of this new Trop is the new large video score board installed before the 2007 season. Every stat the above-average fan needs is broadcast, from OPS to pitch count, WHIP to walks per nine innings.

Even the fans at Tropicana Field have their own vibe. Whereas a growing number are starting to pepper the stands with Upton and Shields jerseys, many still wear generic merchandise mixed with attention-getting flare such as clown wigs and boxing robes. Topping off this group of new fans was an American Idol contestant in town to sing the National Anthem.

A Manatees game at Space Coast Stadium, on the other hand, is a far different experience. Instead of a celebrity singing for America, for example, the Manatees had two anonymous local crooners. Instead of a promotional foul line race between characters dressed as Pepsi, Aquafina, and Sierra Mist, the Manatees featured two local little league coaches dressed in generic ketchup and mustard bottles. Instead of amplified stereo noise, blinking lights, and new-age scoreboard, Space Coast Stadium relied on an old fashioned public address system and a video screen fit for an Sega Genesis.

So was the Rays’ game I paid for that much better than the low-budget Class-A Manatees contest I saw for free? Well, in this case, yes. But only because of the magnificent pitching artistry of James Shields. If not for the great Mr. Shields, it might have been a toss-up.

One small pitch for baseball, one giant event for Commodore alumni

Saturday was a glorious day in the history of my high school alma mater. Yesterday, for the first time ever, former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 1984 Tim Wakefield faced former Eau Gallie Commodore Class of 2002 Prince Fielder. Since only one other baseball player from my high school has ever made the big leagues, former reliever Jeff Tam, this is kinda a big deal.

Unfortunately, due to the Brewers league shift back in '98, the Brewers don't play Boston regularly. So I, and all the possibly dozens and dozens of EGHS fans that care about stuff like this, have had to wait nearly three years into young Prince's career for a highly anticipated match-up against Wakefield.

So what did these Commodore legends do against each other?

In the top of the second, Fielder grounded to short.

In the top of the fourth, Fielder doubled to deep right.

In the top of the sixth, Fielder flied out to center.

So overall, Fielder went 1 for 3 with a double against his Commodore predecesor. As the Brewers won't face the Red Sox again until 2011 and Wakefield is already 49 years old (give or take a few years), this might be the only big league match-up of the two Eau Gallie High players and maybe the last one of its kind for a while.

Until the next Commodore makes the majors.

From the Bigs to the Buses

(This post originally appeared on Bus Leagues Baseball.com)

From the rural sandlots to the city stadiums, the basic premise of baseball – three strikes, three outs, nine innings, etc – remains constant. Sure, the talent level rises with every step to the majors, but does an increase in whiz-bang glitz and glamour make for a more entertaining game? Is happiness and emotional attachment at the ballpark directly related to cost and hype? Or have I been reading too much Freakonomics?

These questions are a result of seeing two games of various levels this past weekend. Last Friday night, I used one of my season tickets and saw James Shields of the Tampa Bay Rays one-hit the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The next night, I traveled to Viera, nee Melbourne, Florida, received a free ticket and watched the Class-A Florida State League Brevard County Manatees take on the Tampa Yankees.

As anyone who has followed my past writings knows, I am a closet Rays fan. Although I grew up a Mets fan, since moving to Tampa two years ago, I’ve had an interest in the Rays, especially in regards to the team’s transformation from doormat to dominant. So as an admirer, and not yet a full-blown fan, I was on my feet applauding what may have been the best pitching performance in franchise history.

Unlike my newfound fascination with the Rays, the Brevard County Manatees have been my favorite minor league team since their inception in 1994. Formerly a Marlins’ farm team, the Manatees are now the A-ball representative of the Milwaukee Brewers. Personally, I still wear the teal Manatees hat. I think it looks better than the newer red and blue version.

My two weekend destinations, independent of the score, couldn’t have been more different. A trip to the Trop is almost like a journey to the amusement park. Despite its reputation as a bad place for baseball, the Rays ownership has turned Tropicana Field into a fan friendly experience, with batting cages, speed gun contests, and plenty of other bells, whistles, gizmos, and doo-dads. The coup de grace of this new Trop is the new large video score board installed before the 2007 season. Every stat the above-average fan needs is broadcast, from OPS to pitch count, WHIP to walks per nine innings.

Even the fans at Tropicana Field have their own vibe. Whereas a growing number are starting to pepper the stands with Upton and Shields jerseys, many still wear generic merchandise mixed with attention-getting flare such as clown wigs and boxing robes. Topping off this group of new fans was an American Idol contestant in town to sing the National Anthem.

A Manatees game at Space Coast Stadium, on the other hand, is a far different experience. Instead of a celebrity singing for America, for example, the Manatees had two anonymous local crooners. Instead of a promotional foul line race between characters dressed as Pepsi, Aquafina, and Sierra Mist, the Manatees featured two local little league coaches dressed in generic ketchup and mustard bottles. Instead of amplified stereo noise, blinking lights, and new-age scoreboard, Space Coast Stadium relied on an old fashioned public address system and a video screen fit for an Sega Genesis.

So was the Rays’ game I paid for that much better than the low-budget Class-A Manatees contest I saw for free? Well, in this case, yes. But only because of the magnificent pitching artistry of James Shields. If not for the great Mr. Shields, it might have been a toss-up.

Cursing Andy Sonnanstine

I am still catching up with some of the weekend happenings, so this is a little late, but I couldn't resist some deep baseball statistical analysis.

Rays pitcher Andy Sonnanstine has pitched four games this year. He is 2-1 with a 5.55 ERA. He has given up 25 hits in 24.1 innings pitched, walked only four, and opponents are hitting .263 against him.

In his four starts, Sonnanstine won his first and his most recent. Three of these starts have been at Tropicana Field. At home, Sonnanstine has a 5.40 ERA, allowing 11 runs in 18.1 innings. Despite early struggles, in his most recent start, Sonnanstine threw a complete game three-hit shutout against the White Sox.

So what was different between his latest home start and his earlier home outings? Did something magically click?

I don't think so.

You want my theory?

I've been two games at Tropicana Field this year. Both were started by Andy Sonnanstine and were Rays losses. In the two games I've attended, Sonnanstine has allowed 16 hits, 4 home runs, and 11 earned runs in 12.1 innings.

In the game I didn't go to, Sonnanstine threw a complete game shutout.

Even more coincidental, I had tickets to Sonnanstine's latest start but gave them away before I went out of town for the weekend.

I know it's a small sample set, but thus far, Sonnanstine has an 8.18 JSiA ERA (Jordi Scrubbings in Attendance Earned Run Average). His JSiA OBA (Jordi Scrubbings in Attendance Opponents' Batting Average) is .340. His non-JSiA ERA is 2.40 and opponents' are only hitting .173 in non-JSiA situations.

Unfortunately, I think we are into pattern status. I give myself one more Sonnanstine start at the Trop before I admit I am officially Andy Sonnanstine's personal jinx.

Grapefruit League Tour 2008: Mets at Indians

As has been par for the course, I arrived late to Chain of Lakes Park, spring home of the Cleveland Indians. Although I made good time to Winter Haven, traffic leading into the ballpark was so bad, by the time I bought my ticket I missed the entire first inning.

Speaking of tickets and seating, because of the large crowd and my late arrival, I was limited to standing in the outfield berm beyond wall in left center field. Of course, I was not alone. There were a few hundred other people sprawled out on blankets or portable chairs. But without something to sit on and the ground wet from a day of drizzling rain, I was forced to stand the whole game. To be honest, I couldn't expect much more for my seven dollars.

Like many of the old spring parks throughout Florida, Chain of Lakes Park has the sentimental feel of an old-time ballpark from the 20s or 30s. There is nothing fancy about the park, from the old fashioned metal overhangs to the limited scoreboard in right center. It hosts baseball the way it oughta be - without the bells, whistles, and trappings geared for the 15-second attention span.

As for the game itself, as I mentioned, I missed the first inning. I arrived in the top of the second, in time to see the Mets go down in order against Cleveland starter Cliff Lee. Lee pitched well throughout his five innings of action, not allowing a run, scattering four hits, and striking out five.

Lee's counterpart on the mound, the Mets' Oliver Perez, suffered an opposite fate. After retiring the side in order in the first, Perez failed to get the lead-off man out in any his other four innings. In the second, he allowed a lead-off home run to Victor Martinez, and after walking the lead-off man in the third, gave up another lead-off homer in the fourth, this time to Indians shortstop Asdrubal Cabrera. Whereas in the first three innings, Perez was able to regain composure, in the fourth he struggled, giving up longballs to Casey Blake and Ben Francisco.

Perez pitched one more inning before leaving the game after five. Sure enough, he put the lead-off man on in that inning as well, issuing a walk to Franklin Gutierrez. Joe Smith and Nelson Figueroa would relieve Perez in the sixth and seventh respectively, and although they didn't give up any runs, they too both allowed the lead-off man to get on base in their innings. You don't win games doing that.

As for the Mets offensively, there was not much to talk about. Carlos Beltran hit a home run in the top of the 6th off recycled journeyman Scott Elarton and obscure has-been Fernando Tatis drove home a run in the top of the seventh. Fernando Tatis. Seriously.

Unlike my previous two spring excursions, Saturday's game did not end 8-4. Instead, after the Indians batted in the bottom of the seventh, the skies opened up, rain drenched both field and the fans, and the umpires finally called it a day with the final scoring being 5-2 Indians.

Grapefruit League Tour 2008: Twins at Pirates

My latest journey on my illustrious tour of the Grapefruit League took me to McKechnie Field in Bradenton, Florida, spring home of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Some notes about the trip: once again I arrived late, I got lost in a neighboring town on an identical address to the ballpark (I got off the highway an exit early), and I saw no signs in Bradenton pointing travellers to McKechnie Field. This last point I found very odd. It was almost as if they didn't want people to go see the Pirates.

About the park: McKechnie Field is one of the oldest parks in Florida. Built in 1923, it first hosted the Cardinals in the 1920s and 30s, and has since been home to the Phillies, Red Sox, Boston Bees (Braves), Boston/Milwaukee Braves, the Kansas City/Oakland A's, and since 1968, the Pirates. According to the Pirates' Spring Training Program, the team and McKechnie Field put 18 million dollars in the Bradenton economy. I find this funny since it is just a hair under half of the Pirates entire 2007 payroll of 38 million.

Anyway, for all its historical nuance, getting into McKechnie Field is a pain in the dupa. Since it was built in the dawn of the automobile industry, there was probably little need back in the day for the park to accomodate a mass influx of cars. This tradition has been sadly continued. There is minimal parking at the park, although the fine surrounding businesses will gladly let you park on their premise, for a fee, of course. Again, it is almost like the city don't want guests to see the Pirates.

On to the game: because I wandering the countryside prior to finally finding the ballpark, when I finally arrived the game was in the top of the 3rd. The only event of note I missed was Twins starter Scott Baker's two innings of work. But I did show up in time for the offense. Right as I sat down, the Twins' Michael Cuddyer doubled off Pirates "ace" Matt Morris scoring Joe Mauer. Then Morris threw a wild pitch advancing Mauer. After Justin Morneau hit a sac fly, the next two Twins, Craig Monroe and Jason Kubel hit back-to-back home runs. 4-0 Twins. Wasn't Morris good a long time ago?

In the top of the next inning, having missed the first few Pirates hitters, the first Buc I saw at bat was Nyjer Morgan, most famous for being the namesake of the sports blog Nyjer Please. Nyjer isn't very good, and neither are the Pirates. The highlight of their day offensively was back-to-back home runs by Adam LaRoche and Ryan Doumit in the bottom of the 4th, making it only 6-3 Twins.

Among the other interesting sightings during the game were pitcher Jaret Wright and first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz, both Pirates non-roster invitees who took the field in the bottom of the 7th. Wasn't Wright also good at some point in his career? The first pitch he threw was blasted over the right-center fence by the Twins' Jon Knott.

An inning later, Twins prospect Deolis Guerra took the mound. As one of the many arms the Mets gave up for Johan Santana, I wanted to see what Guerra was all about. I was impressed. Although it was against players who will be bagging groceries in a week, Guerra set the Pirates down in order in the 8th.

Not too much of note happened after that. Similar to the Blue Jays-Reds contest of last week, this game also resulted in an 8-4 victory for the team hailing from the American League.

Next week: Tigers at Rays in beautiful St. Petersburg. Adios.

(Photo from Brian Merzbach's Ballpark Reviews. Unfortunately, my camera batteries died after one pic. It would be nice if ballparks sold batteries, but that's a rant for another day.)