The Feared Tropicana Temple Style

Back in the day, in the prehistoric pre-Devil Raysian era of 1991, aspiring hip-hop producer Robert Diggs (aka the RZA) brought together nine rappers under the banner of the Wu-Tang Clan and revolutionized the hip-hop genre. In his book “The Wu-Tang Manual”, Diggs discussed his method of utilizing each individual voice for a particular part of a song. He used certain rappers for their tenor flows, others for their bass tone, and the remainder for their soprano key.

(Note: I don’t know music terminology very well. Those are his words, not mine. So if I got the distinct sound of the voices wrong, I apologize.)

The same techniques used by the RZA are also used by Joe Maddon as he moseys along his well-beaten path to the pitcher’s mound to replace one bullpen moundsman with another.

Whereas Diggs perfected situation usage in hip-hop, Maddon’s methodology emerged on the baseball mound in the late 1980s when living legend (and Tampa native son) Tony LaRussa shattered the traditional conception of the bullpen and re-organized it in an almost Henry Ford-esque assembly line fashion, with each man filling a particular role on the line to victory.

For LaRussa and his Oakland A’s, no longer were non-starters the roamers, wanderers, nomads, and vagabonds of the baseball community. They were late-inning assassins, arms ready and willing to provide reinforcement when necessary. Under LaRussa, former starter Rick Honeycutt, who started over 200 games from 1978 to 1988, became one of the best one-inning relievers in baseball and Dennis Eckersley was transformed from 20-game winner to Hall of Fame closer.

What was once revolutionary is now the norm. To the chagrin of baseball fogies and a small segment of irrelevant traditionalists, bullpen arms are absolutely essential to victory, and hence are no longer selected haphazardly – like arrows in a quill – but are brought into the game with an almost scientific precision, like a golfer selecting a club or a military general picking a force to exploit a hole in the enemy’s line.

Whereas other sports are increasingly celebrating the multi-positional flexibility of their athletes, with small forwards playing center in basketball and quarterbacks doubling as running backs and vice versa in football, relief pitching in baseball is now one of the least free form of any sports positions and is not probably most akin to field goal kicking. And like field goal kicking and other positions of strict utility, bullpen pitching now comes with a high personnel liquidity. Whereas the greats of the position are stable in their roles and uniform, the average bullpen pitcher, like the average field goal kicker, borders so close to replaceable that with one too many errant appearances, he becomes just that – replaceable.

For all his modernity and non-conformist ways, as I mentioned earlier, Joe Maddon executes his bullpen operations similar to the other 29 managers in baseball. If anything, with the support of the Rays’ top secret hovel of sabermetric Keebler elves, Maddon is even more exaggerated in his actions than his peers – more Kasparov than Queen of Hearts.

When used properly, a modern bullpen forms together like the classic kid’s cartoon hero Voltron, with each piece combining to create an unstoppable giant sum. And the Rays’ pen is no different. With Maddon at the helm, each member of the Rays relief corps brings a unique style similar to the old kung-fu flicks of yesteryear. As the Rays are one of the best bullpens around, it is only fair to compare them to one of the most famous kung-fu classics of all-time.

“The Rays’ 5 Deadly Venoms”:

Choate, Wheeler – toad style. Immensely powerful, and when properly used, almost invincible.

Sonnanstine, Cormier, Qualls – snake style. Masters of control and best when staying down.

Balfour – lizard style. The lizard relies on speed and is a fitting animal for the Australian.

Side note: One of the things I find interesting about Balfour is that usually guys who light up the radar gun on the field have eccentric personalities off the mound. Pitchers such as Rob Dibble, Joel Zuyama, and Brad “The Animal” Lesley all made throwing hard an offshoot of their overall lives. Balfour, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to fit that mold. He is the quiet Dr. Jekyll off the field (wrestling experiment with Jim Hickey aside) but becomes Mr. Hyde when on the bump – as Orlando Cabrera can attest.

Benoit – centipede style. Quick and strikes fast.

Soriano – scorpion style.  When bit by the scorpion, your life (or the game) is over.  The scorpion is also the only style represented in the constellations, as Soriano was the only member of the bullpen represented in the Anaheim during the midsummer classic.

When working together, these styles provide an almost impenetrable security net over any lead, a force stronger and more celebrated than the assembled sum of any amalgamation of martial masters. As Madden sits back like the old kung-fu abbot, his “students” stroll in from the bullpen and eliminate their opponents one-by-one, making a night at the Trop like an afternoon at the kung-fu cinema.

If only we can get the RZA to create a dub track for Kevin Kennedy’s voice.

Farewell to Claw Digest

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

Having been in the sports blogging game for almost five years, I can honestly say it's a tough gig. Writing for the love of a player, team, sport, or league can take a lot out of you. You have to read about or watch them every day, you have to find something to write about, and then you have to publish. And a majority of the time, it's all for a pittance.

Some bloggers get lucky. Some develop systems and schedules that make publishing about a team easy. Some have nothing better to do but throw their all into a blog with the hopes that someone will discover them and pay them for their interest (admittedly, the chances of this were greater five years ago).

But constant blogging takes a toll, especially if it's for a niche interest such as model airplanes, Bigfoot hunting, or even minor league baseball. To spend even an hour a night blogging when you know only a few dozen people are reading and sharing your love can make whatever you are blogging about seem to be more of a chore than an expression of passion.

At worst, blogging about a niche can pull you away from things you would rather be doing, such as enjoying your hobby or worse, missing out on moments with the real life people in your life.

And it is that inability to spend time with loved ones that is causing blogger Jim Donten to close down Claw Digest, his blog on the Charlotte Stone Crabs and the Gulf Coast League Rays.

I've been following Claw Digest since Jim started blogging this spring. I even interviewed him for this site earlier this season. His blog was very informative, with a heavy dose of stats, player performances, and match-up data. It was apparent he had a love for the Stone Crabs and GCL Rays. As a fan of Minor League Baseball, the Florida State League, and anything related to the Tampa Bay Rays, it will be sad to see him go.

But I know Jim will not be gone for long as he has camoed at RaysProspects.com and I'm sure we will probably see him in there again in the near future. Or we may see him on twitter, where many niche bloggers have gone to ply their wares, trading extensive posts for 140-character comments.

Spoken from experience, sometimes it's best for bloggers to travel in packs. Sometimes the wilderness of the blogosphere is too much for one person to take on alone. Although some bloggers do their best Bear Gylls and survive on bugs and berries for a while, in the long run they often find it's best for their sanity to re-join civilization and ally with a group of like-minded folks. It takes the pressure off having to provide constant content and in many cases it also makes for a more well-rounded site for the readership.

So Jim, best of luck in your future endeavors and thanks for all you did at Claw Digest.

The Legacy of Carl Crawford

Last Tuesday, on the same night he felt the collective sympathy of all male-kind, Carl Crawford celebrated the eighth anniversary of his major league debut.

Following his inconspicuous 1-for-4 debut on a 78-degree summer night in Toronto in 2002, Carl Crawford became an oddity in the dome of little talent. Through the years, he became our first home-grown star – the first selected to the all-star game for his merit, not just because someone had to be there in a Devil Rays cap.  He was the first Devil Ray to consistently lead the league in something positive – the only shining piece amongst Naimoli-funded scrap heaps until Scott Peterson claimed he could fix Victor Zambrano in five minutes. But whereas Scott Kazmir and his strikeouts put butts in the seats, Carl Crawford and his stolen bases never drew public enthusiasm. Perhaps because stolen bases are often the first prize of expansion teams searching for a quick buzz. Many a pitiful team has put a speedster on their roster in the hope he steals a base or two. Chuck Carr owes his Marlins career to this practice.

As time progressed and the franchise metamorphasized from perennial chum to a well-oiled machine that could play havoc with Empires and stymie the dominance of Nations, Crawford was forged into the leader of the new respectable Rays. He was the model of consistency, a piece to build a dream on.

Rarely however is a slap-hitting speedster the type of player to bring a team from worst to first. That title normally goes to cornerstone first basemen like Albert Pujols or once-in-a-generation moundsmen such as Stephen Strasburg. Keeping Crawford was the Sternberg Regime’s first declaration of unorthodoxy.

While the Rays exercised the Devil and began to win more often, Crawford began to lose whatever position he had as “franchise player”. His steady 60-watt stardom was rapidly eclipsed by the Hollywood looks and Jeter-esque poise of Evan Longoria. While Evan jumped off helicopters and talked to pretty girls on trolleys, Carl held down position number seven, just as he did in 2002.

Despite no longer being the mainstream face of the Rays, Crawford has continued to see his own career accomplishments grow. While taking the field with more teammates than anyone else in franchise history, he has become the team’s career leader in numerous categories, some due to his skill and others based strictly on his tenure.

In these last eight years, Carl Crawford’s impressive tenure has put him in elite company in the local sports community. By playing in approximately 58% of the Rays franchise games, Crawford has played a role in a more of his team’s games than legendary Tampa Bay Bucs cornerpiece Derrick Brooks (under 50%). Only Lightning mainstay Vinny Lecavalier has played in a larger percentage of his franchise’s total games (nearly 64%).

Unfortunately, Carl Crawford receives far less acclaim than Brooks, Lecavalier, Warrick Dunn, Marty St. Louis, Mike Alstott or others who sit in the pantheon of recent local legends.  This lack of fame can in part be attributed to his personality – a quiet mix of consistency and professionalism – but some of the fault must lie in his location of daily business.  Whereas the other aforementioned Tampa area sports stars played a majority of their games within Tampa city limits, where prominent powerbrokers sitting high in the SunTrust building can be reminded of their presence and corporate support is more accessible, Crawford almost anonymously plied his wares over the cultural chasm that is the Tampa Bay.

For many who do see him on a regular basis, Crawford’s consistency has numbed them of his accomplishments.  No longer the only shining diamond in a domed coal mine, he has become “Just Carl”.  A 3 for 5 day, with a triple and two stolen bases?  That’s “Just Carl”.  Same as it has been since the days before Google went public, before Martha Stewart went to jail, and before American troops tore down a statue of Saddam Hussein.

Of course, there are also those who attempt to make Crawford’s lack of standing a reflection of his ethnicity or upbringing.  They point to his astrological neck tattoo as a symbol of his “street” persona.  They point to where he was raised, the Near Northside of Houston, not far from the “Fifth Ward” made famous by old-school rappers The Geto Boys, as proof that he cannot be a pillar of community.

Whereas casual racists attribute BJ Upton’s flaws to his race, those leaping to geographic and cultural conclusions in order to pin flaws on Crawford show nothing short of overt racism, fear of the unknown, or a sad journalistic tendency to grasp at straws.

The sad reality is that Crawford will never be more popular than he is now and as his career winds down his exploits will be less frequently celebrated. Despite carving a niche as one of the best leftfielders in today’s game, his skills are not quite those of an all-time great, a step or two below those of Rickey Henderson.  Unfortunately, he was the victim of being born 30 years too late and not playing during the 1980s, a time when his athleticism, speed, and defense would have been celebrated since his first day. Playing in the aughts meant Crawford had to wait for baseball’s steroid testing to eradicate a bastardized style of play that made him an anomaly. If he played during the 80s and not during the Bondsian Era, perhaps he would have competed with Henderson, Vince Coleman, Willie McGee, and other great speedsters who were born to run.

Perhaps one day, when all is said and done, Crawford finds a love similar to that given to Willie Wilson, one of the better supporting actors in the cast of long forgotten championship Royals teams, coincidentally also led by a famous third baseman.

Crawford is the perfect reflection of the Rays’ rise to respectability, quietly efficient and cost effective.  With the exception of a recent possibly ill-worded compliment of his former field general, he has made few waves in the Rays’ ocean.  He has been our prophet, foretelling days of greatness, and after his departure, whether following this season or sometime in the future, he will be the first homegrown Ray with his number retired.  On that day, we will raise his 13 to the rafters – a tribute to the steady consistency and professionalism of “Just Carl”.

The Devil in BJ Upton

One of the biggest problems with baseball is that it’s long season tends to grind out all sense of personality. While players start the season with pep and vigor, by the dog days of summer most of their individual uniqueness is all but washed away. There are some traits however that endure the season. Some of these labels even stay attached to a player for their entire career.

These traits and how players perform under their guise is what makes a player’s career all the more interesting. If we say Derek Jeter is a leader, and he fails to motivate the Yankees to overcome some obstacle, is he still a leader? If so, how will he be defended? If we say David Eckstein is a scrappy hustler, how do we react when he doesn’t dive during a day game in August in St. Louis where the temperature is over 100 degrees? Do we let him slide? And then of course, there is a label of “clutch”, which seems to have a life of its own, clinging like kudzu to players who have come up big at some point in their career.

There is no more labeled player on the Tampa Bay Rays than BJ Upton. Since becoming a regular in 2007, he has been the most fascinating player to watch. Sure, Evan Longoria has become the Hollywood face of the team, Carl Crawford has been a model of consistency, and not since the early 90s Braves staffs, has a pitching staff wowed the world with its youthful talent. However, it is BJ that remains the most interesting.

BJ is a collection of skills and personality rarely seen on a baseball field. Where there are similar comparisons is on the hardwood. Basketball players such as Allen Iverson, Greg Oden, Dwight Howard, and LeBron James have all had their talents and motivations poked, prodded, and analyzed to the point of overkill by dozens of writers, commentators, and the blogging bourgeoisie. Among the best of these is FreeDarko.com, a collection of intellectual bloggers who take a meta view of the NBA and its employees.

BJ Upton is a FreeDarko writer’s dream subject.

BJ is a similar to basketball player standing 6’10 with insane ups, a smooth jumper, a knack for rebounds, excellent ball handling, and the ability to thread the needle with a key pass. He has all the physical tools to be great, yet never achieves perpetual greatness. The NBA is full of players like this. Players who, if they had the killer instinct of Michael Jordan or Kobe Bryant, would redefine their position and possibly the game.

BJ Upton is Lamar Odom in cleats.

Whereas Lamar Odom has found a place in the shadow of Kobe Bryant and in matrimony to Chloe Kardashian, where the occasional superstar performance is enough to suffice, BJ Upton is still stuck with the “loafer” label. It was a label also stuck on former Met outfielder Kevin McReynolds throughout his career, even as he finished third in the 1988 MVP race.

Like BJ, there was talk McReynolds wasn’t “in love” with baseball. That he would rather be doing something else, but baseball paid the bills. With McReynolds, it was hunting and fishing. BJ, meanwhile, is filming commercials to gather support to bring the World Cup to Tampa Bay and is involved in other soccer-related promotions. Perception is a cruel wind to temper.

Upton detractors also have two other arrows in their quill. One resides on the societal third rail of race and the other is based on BJ’s own flesh and blood.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention BJ Upton as a reflection of our still-lingering perceptions on race. Although made mainstream by African-American writer Scoop Jackson in a poorly worded October 2008 ESPN article, the BJ race issue has taken on many of the same traits of the Obama presidency. Like him and be labeled a “new wave intellectual”. Attack him and face being labeled a racist. There was a definite irony in last week’s rumors that had Upton, a Virginian, in a trade for a white man named Lee.

From the seed of Father Bossman comes another obstacle in the acceptance of son Melvin Emanuel, Jr.  As his own sibling prospers in the same chosen field, many have compared one to the other, even going as far as claiming the Rays got “the wrong Upton”. That is amazingly unfair. There are very few instances where the comparison of brothers is warranted. As far as I know, the Upton family didn’t tinker in the field of genetic manipulation and create two clone sons and DNA doesn’t work like that. Just ask the Brothers Aybar, who are seldom publicly compared.

There is more to BJ Upton than any stereotype, be it familiar or racial. He is, as I discussed, a complex collection of physical attributes. His one weakness, however, may be that he relies heavily on the approval of his peers. He was the little brother to Cliff Floyd during Uncle Cliffy’s time with the team and still appears to follow the lead of Carl Crawford, especially on the field.  This is important as only four years ago BJ was surrounded by the nefarious trio of Delmon Young, Elijah Dukes, and the ghosts of Josh Hamilton’s career.

Barring any drastic change in personnel or personality, 2011 will be one of the most interesting years in the career of BJ Upton. If Carl Crawford departs as expected, BJ will be the senior Ray. Will he ally with Evan Longoria in Crawford’s departure? Will they be the Castor and Pollux of the Rays, the twin constellation in a galaxy of Rays stars? Or will Upton still bear his crosses, struggle with perception, and carry with him the stigma of being one of the few position players left to wear the title “Devil Ray”?

Review of the 2010 Florida State League All-Star Game

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

Thousands of years ago, the Greeks, Romans, Mayans, and many other societies of antiquity looked to the stars to see the future. Today, although there are few who still subscribe to astrology and horoscopes, the belief in the stars is mostly a relic of the past, left to tabloids and fringe websites. Scientific discovery has all but eliminated the notion that the lights of the heavens can illuminate time beyond.

This past Saturday, an hour or so south of where man has most frequently launched himself into space, the Florida State League played its All-Star Game at the aptly named Space Coast Stadium. Fortunately, the scientific discoveries of NASA, Cape Canaveral, and other people, places, and things don’t apply to minor league baseball, where the stars of today may be the future of majors tomorrow.

As Bus Leagues Baseball is more about the experience than the box score, I’ve decided to grade the game and my trip to Space Coast Stadium by ten categories which I think, pardon the pun, cover all the bases.

Game: A+

In what may be a classic, and despite being down 4-2 in the 8th inning, the South All-Stars defeated the North All-Stars 5-4 in 10 innings. Throughout the game, fans were treated to a showcase of the best talent of in the league, as each manager cycled through most of his roster in typical all-star game form. As I haven’t yet seen all of the teams, and some of the best pitchers take the hill while I work the 9-5, I was especially pleased each pitcher worked approximately an inning each. I also learned that in the Florida State League the all-star game can in fact end in a tie if neither team wins after 10 innings. Fortunately for those at the 2010 game, the South scored the winning run in the top of the 10th with a go-ahead single by Josh Satin of the St. Lucie Mets.

Ceremony: A

The Florida State League 2010 All-Star Game had all the pomp and circumstance expected of an all-star game. Prior to the first pitch, the players of each team were announced and filed proudly along the baselines, a color guard presented the colors, and a rescue helicopter from the local air force base performed a low flyover to the excitement and astonishment of the thousands in attendance. Also in all-star game tradition, after the game an MVP tiki trophy was presented to Satin by a representative of the league office.

Home Run Derby: B+

Prior to the game and the ceremony, the Florida State League hosted its all-star home run derby. Although I walked in towards the end of the first round, I could tell the wind and the dimensions of Space Coast Stadium were reducing the amount of dingers. In the last round, for example, Henry Wrigley of the Port Charlotte Stone Crabs hit two home runs to pull out the win over Quincy Latimore of the Bradenton Marauders.

Pre-game Taste to Celebrate Space Event: A+

Before the game, Space Coast Stadium hosted “A Taste to Celebrate Space”, a showcase of many of restaurants in the local community. On hand were the Florida Beer Company, TGI Fridays, Texas Roadhouse, Grills Seafood, Dustins Bar-B-Q, and several others. For the price of a handful of food tickets – given to each culinary representative to taste their wares – fans were able to fill themselves with an impressive array of ribs, pasta, egg rolls, and ice cream.

Fireworks: A

As they did after Military Appreciation Night a few weeks ago, Space Coast Stadium again ended the night with an impressive fireworks display. These never get old.

Facility: A-

I’ve been to Space Coast Stadium dozens of times, so this review may carry some bias. As far as Florida State League stadiums, Space Coast Stadium is nice, although somewhat average. In the past few years, they have added a tiki bar in left field with a new “reserved” deck. Unfortunately, the deck and its associated bridge cause some awkward dead space in the stands along the left field line. Personally, I am also not a fan of the new electronic scoreboard, which replaced a manual scoreboard several years ago. Otherwise, there is plenty of parking, the stadium is easily accessible, and traffic flows in and out fairly easy.

Vendors: A

Back to the subject of food, I was impressed with the vendors at Space Coast Stadium. At too many stadiums do vendors act like librarians, quietly wandering around the ballpark hoping to bump into a fan. Not so at Space Coast Stadium, where the vendors are loud and cheerful, alerting everyone in the area that they have beer, or hot dogs, or cotton candy. That’s how you sell.

Ushers: D

As good as the vendors were, the ushers were the exact opposite. I was sitting near the first base dugout, near where the players toss used balls into the crowd after each inning. Unfortunately, that meant nearly a dozen kids sat in the aisle by my seat hoping to catch a ball or two or some cases three or four. Although I understand kids will be kids, and everyone young and old wants to catch a game-used ball, but no one should be allowed to camp out in the aisles during a game. Unfortunately, it took the ushers until the seventh inning to control the young fans and tell them to return to their seats. I am not sure if anyone complained, or if they heard me complain, or if the ushers finally noticed what was going on, but that is unacceptable.

Concessions: D-

I only had one experience with the concession stand and it did not go well. In the top of the seventh I went to get a beer for me and my Dad. After waiting for 10 minutes in one line behind a guy purchasing a hot dog and a beer, I was told the stand was closing down its lines and that I and the lady had to go to the one remaining open line, which already had five people in it. Ten minutes after that, I finally got to the front of the line and asked for two beer only to be told the stand was no longer serving beer and that I was too late. Keep in mind I had already been in two lines for ten minutes each. When I tried to plead my case, and tell them that the person in front of me in my first line bought a beer, the concession people still refused me. I ended up with Diet Coke and a bad taste in my mouth.

Fans: A

Having traveled from Tampa for Saturday night’s game, I was curious how many other fans were making drives to see their favorite all-stars. I was not disappointed. I saw hats, jerseys, and t-shirts representing nearly every team in the Florida State League. And with fans from every team in attendance, every player got a round of applause when they were announced. Despite the general low attendance of the Florida State League, it was great to be surrounded by so many passionate fans.

Overall, I give the entire event an “A”. The 2010 Florida State League All-Star Game was my first all-star game experience at any level, and I had a great time. Not only was the game and the event great, but I may have seen the future of major league baseball. Unless, of course, the Mayan conspiracy theorists are correct and the world ends in December 2012.

That would be a bummer.

Watching Pedro Martinez in Clearwater

One of my favorite movies is HBO's 1996 original Soul of the Game - the story of Negro League stars Jackie Robinson, Josh Gibson, and Satchel Paige and their struggle to brake baseball's color barrier and be the first African-American to play in the Majors. It is the story of the young Robinson and his relationship with the older Paige and Gibson and their reactions as the former gets the call the latter two feel they deserve.

In the movie, as well as in reality, time unfortunately was not on the side of Satchel Paige, who although he eventually received a big league opportunity, was far beyond the peak of his career. But Paige would not let his age or his diminished ability deter him from his goals of making it to the bigs, milking and cajoling his arm in the desperate hope that it still had a few good innings left.

I saw a lot of the Satchel Paige character as I watched Pedro Martinez pitch for the Class-A Clearwater Threshers on Sunday. Martinez, signed by the Phillies a few weeks ago, was clearly not the Pedro of old and I could tell he knew it. The 97 mph fastball was long gone, the aura and mystic was fading, and he was fighting to prove his ability to merely contribute. The former Cy Young ace was now a conjurer, a Merlin of the mound, hoping his knowledge, guile, and a little bit of smoke and mirrors was enough to make it back to the Show.

Sadly, I don't think it was. In his first start against live batters since the World Baseball Classic, Pedro threw 1 and 1/3 innings in a rain-shortened game against the St. Lucie Mets. As it was the major league Mets who put him out to pasture after last season, the minor league Mets put the final nail in his legendary career. Although I didn't expect Pedro to dominate, it was clear he was struggling. Most of his pitches were up in the zone, the Mets were getting good wood on the ball, and he only produced one swinging miss, albeit on a classic Pedro change-up. The box score will say Pedro didn't do that badly, giving up one hit, hitting a batter, and striking one. But great change-up aside, I'd say his tank is empty.

There is another scene in Soul of the Game when after an exhibition against major league all-stars is rained out, the Josh Gibson character stands in the downpour and yells up to God, knowing full well the rain closed the door on his last chance. I saw a lot of the Josh Gibson character in Pedro as the umpires motioned for the players to clear the field. While the younger players scampered past him to shelter, Pedro Martinez slowly walked off the mound, tipping his cap to the many fans who came only to see him.

I have been a Pedro Martinez fan for a long time, and I don't hope this is true, but I wouldn't be surprised if Sunday was the last day of Pedro Martinez's brilliant baseball career.

Where are Carl Crawford's triples?

I was looking at the Rays stats this year and outside of the regular abnormalities (Upton's low BA, Sonnanstine's ungodly ERA), I noticed something very strange. Carl Crawford had only 3 triples.

This from a guy who is one of the most prolific triple-hitters in baseball history. Since his rookie season Crawford has averaged 12 triples a year. That's one every 48.26 plate appearances. Yet so far in 2009, Crawford is averaging one triple every 88.67 plate appearances. At this rate, Crawford will end up with his lowest total since his first season.

My first thought was that perhaps he is sacrificing triples for the sake of stealing third. After all, Crawford leads baseball in stolen bases. Yet Crawford only has one steal of third following a double, April 30th against Boston.

Ok. What else could it be?

Here is a breakdown of Crawford's 11 doubles as of June 10th:

1) April 7th vs. Boston
Top of the 6th off Josh Beckett
Double to LF (Line Drive to Deep LF-CF); Iwamura to 3B

2) April 10th vs Baltimore
Top of the 1st off M. Hendrickson
Double to RF (Line Drive to Deep RF Line); Crawford out at 3B/RF-2B-3B

3) April 15th vs New York
Bottom of the 3rd off Andy Pettite
Double to CF (Line Drive to Deep CF-RF)

4) April 24th vs Oakland
Top of the 1st off Trevor Cahill
Double to LF (Line Drive to LF Line)

5) April 30th vs Boston
Bottom of the fourth off Josh Beckett
Double to LF (Line Drive) - Stole 3rd

6) May 8th vs Boston
Top of the 5th off Brad Penny
Ground-rule Double (Fly Ball to Deep CF-RF)

7) May 9th vs Boston
Top of the 6th off Hunter Jones
Double to LF (Fly Ball to Deep LF-CF); Upton to 3B

8) May 9th vs Boston
Top of the 7th off Javier Lopez
Double to LF (Fly Ball to Deep LF); Upton to 3B

9) May 12 vs Baltimore
Top of the 1st off Mark Hendrickson
Double to CF (Line Drive to Deep CF-RF)

10) May 12 vs Baltimore
Top of the 2nd off Mark Hendrickson
Double to LF (Line Drive to Deep LF Line)

11) May 24 vs Florida
Top of the 3rd off Josh Johnson
Double to LF (Fly Ball to Deep LF Line)

So what do we have?

- One steal of 3rd (April 30).
- One time Crawford was thrown out going for third (April 10).
- One ground rule double (May 8).
- Three times a runner was held up at third (April 7, May 9 (2)).
- Three were hit down the left field line, probably the hardest place to hit a triple (April 24, May 12 #2, May 24).

That's nine. Leaving us with two doubles that perhaps could have been turned into triples (April 15, May 12 #1).

April 15th vs New York
With 2 outs, Crawford hits a line drive to deep RF-CF, driving home BJ Upton.
Idea why he didn't try for a triple: following Crawford was new acquisition Pat Burrell. The Rays had tagged Pettite for two consecutive doubles. Maybe Crawford didn't want to make the 3rd out at third with the big free agent slugger coming up.

May 12th vs Baltimore
With one out, Crawford doubles to deep RF-CF.
Idea why he didn't try for a triple: Perhaps the arm strength of Orioles RF Nick Markakis? Maybe Orioles CF Adam Jones got to the ball quickly?

So after going through Crawford's doubles, we really still haven't found the reason he is behind on his average triples rate. Perhaps it is situational and he hasn't had many opportunities to fly around the bases. Perhaps he is being injury cautious. Or perhaps his line drive rate is down, or maybe he isn't getting the jump out of the batter's box like he used to.

Overall, like Rays victories, Crawford triples have unfortunately been too few. Here's hoping both increase in bunches as the season progresses.

Southern Thunder repels a Royal LOOGY

I just got back from seeing the Rays play the Royals. Almost as if by divine calling, Southern Thunder Matt Joyce not only broke the game open with a two-run double in the 6th, he also hit a towering moonshot to deep right field in the eighth. Overall, not a bad day at the office for Southern Thunder as he went 3 for 4 with four runs batted in.

What makes the latest victory ever sweeter was the fact that tonight Southern Thunder silenced those who dare blaspheme and claim there is a chink his epic armor. Despite prestigious accomplishments at the lower levels, there were those who claimed Southern Thunder could not hit the servings of southpaws. Tonight Southern Thunder proved them wrong.

As I mentioned in the opening, Southern Thunder provided a game-winning, clutch two-run double to propel the Rays to victory. But if popular wisdom ruled, it would not have been. Thankfully Rays manager Joe Madden doesn't play by "the book". With the game on the line and two out in the sixth, Royals skipper Trey Hillman brought in his loogy (lefty one out guy), veteran left-handed hurler Horacio Ramirez to face Southern Thunder. There was no doubt nearly everyone in attendance thought Southern Thunder would be pinch-hit for. I'll admit, I almost expected it. But Madden was a believer. And Southern Thunder came through. Then again in the eighth, as he added Royals righty Roman Colon to his list of home run victims.

The legend continues ...

The Return of Southern Thunder

The rumble started in the legendary Tarheel home of Crash Davis and Nuke LaLoosh. It grew through the Palmetto State, echoed off Stone Mountain, cascaded through the Panhandle, and shook the bay to its foundation. After a short absence, the Southern Thunder had returned to the Bay Area.

Buried under the hoops hoopla that was the Orlando Magic celebration was the promotion of "The Southern Thunder" Matt Joyce to the Tampa Bay Rays. Knowing mere minor league hurlers were no longer a match for the greatness of Southern Thunder, the Rays called up Joyce and sent down journeyman right-hander Dale Thayer. Although Thayer's 'stache will be missed, the Southern Thunder could not be denied.

Many feel it is destiny that Southern Thunder make his mark in a Rays uniform. Many moons ago, a gypsy woman foretold of a great "natural" that would come from a quarter short of a score east of ancient Atlantis. Behold, on the day of third day of the eighth month of four score and four years into the 20th century, 15 miles east of Tampa, Florida, Matt Joyce was born.

Born into prophesy, Southern Thunder first picked up the tools of his craft as a youth in the Tampa Bay area. As he grew in stature from a boy to man, his achievements grew from local legend to regional myth. To paraphrase the Sandlot, "people said he was less than a god but more than a man". He was next in a long line of talent that included Wade Boggs, Tino Martinez, Dwight Gooden, and Gary Sheffield. He was indeed the Tampa area's next "natural". Then he was drafted by the Detroit Tigers and nearly forgotten.

Fortunately, the bright minds of the Tampa Bay Rays front office knew enough of the Legend of Southern Thunder to bring him back to Tampa in exchange for inconsistent flamethrower Edwin Jackson. It was as if the planets aligned and the gods spoke down from the heavens. Southern Thunder was coming back to the Land of the Lightning.

And now, after a short stint tearing the cover off the ball in charming southern towns such as Durham and Charlotte, Southern Thunder is back in the big leagues and ready to rule in the formerly aptly named Thunderdome.

Of course, and as to be expected, Southern Thunder rang true in his return, taking the Twins' Nick Blackburn deep in his second at-bat.

Welcome back, Southern Thunder.

New Tunes for One of the Rays?

As I mentioned last week, Tampa Bay Rays batters are using the same at-bat music in 2009 as they did in 2008 (at least they were as of last Friday). I don't know if the stadium hasn't programmed new music, or the players haven't picked new songs, or they all opted to keep the 2008 sounds going, but I think it is a bit strange.

I bring this up again because Hard Rock Hideout.com is reporting that the band Tantric is releasing a new album on July 21st. Tantric is of course the band responsible for the song "Down and Out" that Evan Longoria comes to bat to.

I wonder if a new Tantric album will mean Longoria will finally change his song. Interesting note: I would guess that save for a few weeks listening to Pantera, every home at-bat Longoria has had during career has been to the same song. Longoria probably leads the Rays in song/career at-bat percentage.

Thought of the day: I wonder if any MLB players pick their song to help drive the sales of artists they know. What if, for example, Evan and Tantric lead singer Hugo Ferreira were friends and Ferreira asked Longoria to come to the plate to a new Tantric single? Are there any rules against that? What if artists paid players to come to bat to their song? What if they did it without the team knowing? Is there anything in the contracts that say players can't do that?