Back to Baseball

It’s Tuesday morning, and as I write this a replay of last night’s Brewers game is streaming behind me, a comforting companion to my morning. Like Bob Uecker himself – who’s announced Brewers games on the radio since I was three years old – my life’s accompaniment has always been baseball.

Except last year.

In a bit of bravado, on the heels of baseball’s moronic lockout that delayed the start to last season, I decided a year ago that I was done with baseball. And I was. After announcing in February, “Screw ‘em. I’m done,” I didn’t watch any baseball on TV except for a few game recaps, and I only attended five innings in person (at a White Sox game to hang out with my daughter and her partner).

This was a big change for me, and as I summarized last October, I didn’t really miss it. I found other things to do with my time, and I got lucky that the Brewers didn’t finish the season strong, sparing me the agony of having to watch my team miss the playoffs for the first time since 2017.  But I recognized that my baseball boycott might not continue.

A new season has started, and it only took four games for me to dive back in, purchasing the MLBTV package and following every Brewers game since in some form or another (a game recap, highlights, live or on-demand).

What led to this turnabout? Two things that I can think of:

1)      Major League Baseball, finally – FINALLY – enacted rule changes meant to speed up the game, something that should have been done a decade ago. It was a relief to check out box scores for the first few days of the season and see game times of 2:21, 2:32 and 2:57 (the latter for a high-scoring 9-5 game). This change was sorely needed. After enduring over a decade of watching showboating Ryan Braun step out of the batters box after each and every pitch to mess with his batting gloves, viewers are now treated to a streamlined game that transpires happily, neither rushed nor sluggish.

2)      Reviewing the box scores for those first four games was jolting for me because I recognized three names in the starting line-up. THREE! And I’d only been away for a year! I suddenly felt oddly disconnected from my hometown, no longer a native to Milwaukee, but an outsider. 

It was a combination of these factors, and the fact that the Brewers got off to a hot start, with three young rookies making an impact, that led me to spend $150 for MLBTV, eschewing the monthly bill that I could have opted for and cancelled at any time.  Nope, was all-in.

Two nights ago, I watched a spectacular 1-0 Brewers victory against the Padres, the only run being scored from a combination of a bunt single, a balk, a stolen base and a sacrifice fly in the second inning.  That was it for the night, and I sat on the edge of my seat as Wade Miley and Yu Darvish traded zeros through the seventh inning, and my heart raced as Brewers closer Devin Williams loaded the bases in the ninth and took Trent Grisham to a 3-2 count before obtaining a game-ending strikeout.

Baseball is back!

Life Without Baseball

There’s a running gag in the movie Airplane! in which Lloyd Bridge’s character, stressed out by an impending airline catastrophe, utters “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking.” Throughout the film, he raises the ante, substituting “quit smoking” with “quit drinking” “quit amphetamines” “quit sniffing glue.” Fantastic.

At the beginning of the 2022 Major League Baseball season, I thought I might wind up in a similar state, as I had given up baseball despite the Milwaukee Brewers sprinting to a 32-18 start. 

Fear not, I thought. There’s still time.

And there was. In contrast to Lloyd Bridge’s character, it looks like I picked the right year to quit baseball.  After all, baseball quit on me and the rest of the nation in February and March, as spring training was postponed to accommodate whiny billionaire owners and whiny millionaire players while the rest of the country recovered from a hangover of COVID isolation, inflation, low-paid jobs, an attempted coup, disappearing lakes and rivers, and everything in between.

Good going, baseball! You are run by a bunch of morons.

In February, I wrote a blog called Baseball Digs its Own Grave and finished with the line, “Screw ‘em. I’m done,” uncertain if I would actually live up to the bravado of the sentiment. But I did. For the first time since I was a wee toddler, I didn’t watch any baseball except for a few game recaps and 5 innings of a White Sox game in early August solely to hang out with my daughter and partner who were looking for something to do on a balmy Chicago afternoon. I also checked out the box scores and standings a few times a week.

That’s it. Compare that to 2021, when I attended four games in Milwaukee (despite living 90 miles away) and watched upwards of 120 games via my now cancelled MLBTV subscription (after over a decade of loyal viewership).

In short, I followed baseball the way most sane people do: scanning a few headlines about the hottest teams and Aaron Judge’s historic home run pursuit.

I wasn’t sure I could do it, but as happened to so many people during the bleakest months of COVID isolation, it became very clear what I could live without. Not only could live without, but could happily live without. I did not miss baseball in the slightest. My evenings were spent playing music or taking walks or chatting with neighbors, and my visits to Milwaukee included record shopping with a friend, attending a lakeside beer garden, and enjoying a backyard barbecue. No $20 parking. No $13 beers. No frustration watching an anemic offense. No tearing out my hair as my team collapsed and failed to make the playoffs for the first time since 2017 despite uncharacteristically high expectations.

Sure, I was intrigued when general manager David Stearns traded Josh Hader away to the Padres, but this intrigue was squashed when a subsequent move to improve the woeful offense didn’t occur. And after reading this fine post about some of the boneheaded moves (or non-moves) of management this year, I’m thankful that I wasn’t subjected to such incompetence as a passionate participant. Instead, I was able to watch things from afar, with sensible detachment.

Now, I know that there’s a cost to detachment. I recall October of 2018, when I attended Game 1 of the NLDS and watched the Brewers edge out the Rockies as I maniacally cheered, waved my victory towel and downed beers. It was a great evening (less great was watching that same team lose twice to the Dodgers, once in Los Angeles, and once in Milwaukee for the decisive Game 7). I know that sports can lead to wonderful moments. And that’s what’s at stake here. The possibility of being elated. Of being overjoyed.  Of screaming up to the heavens when the Brewers finally, finally win a World Series. 

That overwhelming jubilation will be denied me even if the Brewers do finally win it all one day, because I will no longer be watching with the passion I once felt. I’m not saying that my baseball boycott will last forever. It might not even last more than one season. I don’t know. But I will no longer invest emotion into Major League Baseball. The most I’ll invest is a mild appreciation for the sport itself, and $100 or so to attend a game with all the fixings.

A couple of albums ago, I wrote a song called “Put You Away.” It’s a good one, and the lyrics perfectly capture how I’m feeling right now: 

I
I've got to put you away for a while
Someplace I'll one day say with a smile
Or maybe a tear
This is where I kept my heart from feeling
Cuz I
I can't bear to feel any more
This is so much worse than before

All those little heartbreaks when you're young
They don't compare to what feels like a ton
Of trouble taking me down
All my passions turn to sure disaster
And I
I've got to put you away in a drawer
And remember how it was before

How you opened up my soul
When all I wanted
Is to crawl back into a hole
You let my spirit soar towards a future
Paved in gold

I have visions in the night
It seems so close I almost toast the cup in victory
Could this be really happening?
Could this be really happening?

Oh, how you opened up my soul
When all I wanted
Is to crawl back into a hole
This hurts me more than words can say
And still I know no other way
Cuz this is really happening
Yes this is really happening to me

So long, baseball.  It was a good run.

Baseball Digs its Own Grave

Major League Baseball was already in trouble. With dwindling attendance after peaking in 2007, game times ballooning to 3 hours and eleven minutes (even after instituting some foolhardy rule changes), and lagging World Series TV ratings, it could be argued that baseball is on its way out, crying uncle to the multitude of other forms of entertainment. Hell, I raised three kids to love baseball, and they tell me that baseball isn’t really a thing their friends are interested in. Sure, maybe they go to the ballpark once a year for the hell of it, but as far as checking box scores and standings and tuning into games on TV, baseball has largely lost the next generation of fans. Of course, having World Series games that start at 8:09PM EST hasn’t exactly helped, has it? Why the MLB insists that they can gain the most market share by having as few young people watch the game as possible is perplexing. Football seems to have factored young fans into its calculous, but baseball has its collective head up its collective ass.

Ah, but not as far as we thought, apparently, because they’ve managed to push it in a little further still. 

Yes, Russia is invading Ukraine, America has just suffered through the worst two crises since World War II, people have lost full-time jobs and found only part-time jobs in return, the planet is heating up and water levels are rising, but baseball players and owners – these entitled pricks who get to play a game or get to be billionaires – are fighting over money. Never mind the multitudes who will be adversely affected as a result: the restaurant and bar owners, hotel chains, vendors, and local tourist attractions. Baseball has flipped them the proverbial bird. Screw you. We want our money!

It’s akin to something I read in Politico last week about the shenanigans that the far left in San Francisco employed recently during the pandemic. Autumn Looijen, co-founder of the Recall SF School Board campaign is quoted:

Imagine you’re in San Francisco. There’s been an earthquake. You’re out on the sidewalk in a tent because you’re not sure if your home is safe to go back to. And you’re cooking your meals on the sidewalk, you’re trying to do normal things. You’ve been there for months. Finally, your elected leaders show up and you’re like, ‘Thank God, here’s some help.’ And they say, ‘We are here to help. We’re going to change the street signs for you.’

Yep.

She’s spot-on, of course. And the same quote could be applied to Major League Baseball. The American people have endured several punches to the gut these past two years and could use some fun, lighthearted entertainment. So what does baseball do?  Shut down and argue about money.

I have cancelled my MLBTV subscription. This will put a strain on my marriage this summer. It will make my life less pleasant. I will have to find new things to do on weekday evenings when all I want to do is crack open a beer and enjoy the quintessential summer game. 

Screw ‘em. I’m done.

Brewers 2021 Wrap-up

They say baseball is all about pitching, but the 2021 Milwaukee Brewers proved that offense is also a required component for a legitimate World Series contender, as they lost to the Atlanta Braves this week in four games while scoring a sum total of six runs, including two shutouts.

These four games were sadly reminiscent of the four games I attended in 2021, when the Crew scored a grand total of four runs, losing all four games. Three of these games took place after the acquisition of shortstop Willy Adames, whose presence gave the team a needed boost at the end of May.  I like a good pitchers duel now and then as much as the next guy, but the team I watched during those four games was not a fun team to watch.  The offense was anemic, the baserunning and defense sloppy, and the overall excitement generated was subpar.  And while the Brewers surged during the second half of season, their offensive numbers over the entire season were, well, terrible. 

Milwaukee ranked 26th in batting average, 24th in slugging percentage, and 20th in OPS.  Defense didn’t help either.  The Brewers ranked 9th in errors allowed, 28th in double plays, and 21st in fielding percentage.

It was this team that somehow – miraculously – managed to score enough runs throughout the season to lock down the NL Central in easy fashion.  Their pitching staff was so good – ranking 3rd in runs allowed per game – and the division in which they played so mediocre, that the Brewers ran away with their first division title in three years.  Even offensively, the Brewers managed to score the league-average number of runs per game, but I don’t know of any Brewers fans who felt confident entering the playoffs.  Four game later, our concerns have been unsatisfyingly validated.  The Brewers’ pitching staff once again had to be nearly perfect for the team to even have a chance of winning, and in the playoffs against a good-hitting Braves team, this was an awfully tall order. 

The pitching wasn’t perfect, but it was solid.  What was embarrassingly bad was the offense.  During the playoff series against a good-pitching Braves team, the Brewers swung and missed at more pitches outside the strike zone than any playoff team has a right to.  This is best encapsulated by Avisail Garcia’s third at-bat in game four.  After swinging and missing at two sliders down and away, Garcia swung at the next pitch – also a slider – in the exact same location.  What made Garcia think that pitcher Huascar Ynoa – after having adequately demonstrated that he needn’t pitch in the zone to get a strike – was actually going to throw in the zone for his third pitch is mind-boggling.

This one at-bat sort of sums up a lot of the Brewers at-bats this season, and it highlights the concerns for next years’ Brewers team (and begs the question: will batting coach Andy Haines be returning next season?).  On paper, the Brewers’ pitching and infield seem to be in relatively good shape for 2022, with nearly every player returning.  These were the strengths of the team in 2021 (tough first base is still a concern).  But the Brewers’ outfield is currently bloated with highly-paid players who are performing absolutely terribly.  Garcia was the lone bright spot (though not always), but he likely won’t be returning to the Brewers next season.  Instead, the Brewers have returning Jackie Bradley, Jr., who just completed one of the worst offensive seasons in Major League history), an injury-prone and past-his-prime Lorenzo Cain, and Christian Yelich, who’s not even a shadow of his former self, garnering a shocking 1.3 WAR in 2021. 

How will the Brewers fortify the outfield with some offensive numbers?  There’s only one way that I can think of given that the team salary is already stretched, and that’s to make a deal to trade some of their stellar pitchers on the staff.  With the luxury of having three aces in Corbin Burnes, Brandon Woodruff and Freddy Peralta, very capable 4th and 5th starters in Adrian Houser and Eric Lauer, and excellent relievers in Devin Williams (albeit a very, very stupid Devin Williams, who used his pitching hand to punch a wall at the end of the regular season) and Josh Hader, I would not be surprised some of these guys were traded to bolster the offense for 2022.  We shall see what David Stearns and company decide to do during what will certainly be a volatile off-season, as players and owners hash out a new collective bargaining agreement.

Baseball Begins

Just prior to the beginning of the pandemic-shortened MLB season, I happened to start watching the baseball-themed comedy series Brockmire, and was taken with this quote from the third episode:

“So let’s not make baseball out to be any more important than it really is.  It’s just a diversion that keeps us from pondering our own personal hells.”

I love this, and while I’d never admit that I when I watch a ballgame I’m avoiding my own personal demons, I must confess that I’ve missed the diversion of baseball.  I’ve missed having that little no-think something to look forward to at the end of the day, or – lately - in the middle of a frightfully unscheduled weekend.  A little light that says, “Hey, even if you’ve got nothing else going on, baseball starts at 1:20,” as it did yesterday. 

I grabbed a Pabst from the refrigerator (because it’s $7.99 for a 12-pack and it’s good on a hot summer’s day, that’s why), lay down on the couch, petted my pooch, and listened to Bob Uecker call the game for his fiftieth-straight season.  Perfect. The diversion and it’s accompanying mid-day nap were lovely pastimes indeed right until Peralta gave up four runs in fourth and basically ensured that the Cubs would take two of three from the Brewers to start the season.  At that moment it was baseball frustration as usual.  I turned the TV off and went back to work.

Ah, but there’s another game tonight, another diversion, another glimmer of hope.  And that’s one of the beauties of baseball.

And while I don’t exactly hold out a lot of hope for the Brewers during this season like no other, or for the baseball season in general in light of the horrific number of COVID-19 cases reported each day, I can imagine the following scenario:  after a lifetime of making a silent prayer (okay, sometimes not so silent) to let my Brewers win a World Series title (just one – I’m not being greedy), I can imagine the All-Powerful Creator up in the sky saying, “You want a World Series Title; I’ll give you one,” and THIS will be the year I’m granted my request.  This asterisk-marred joke of a season.  THIS will be the year the Milwaukee Brewers win a championship.  Craig Counsell and his crew will come home to Milwaukee for a parade down Wisconsin Avenue on a chilly November afternoon, and fans will come out in droves to celebrate the stunning achievement of the city’s first title since the erstwhile Braves in 1957, and I will be one of those delusional fans. But I and all of my cheesehead brethren will know…we’ll know that none of it counts.  Nothing counts in what is basically a 60-game exhibition.  And God will say, “Hey, what do you want?  I gave you a World Series.”

Because never once in all my years of praying did I specify, “Please God, let the Brewers win a World Series in my lifetime, but only if it’s a legitimate 162-game regular season.”

Dummy me: I forgot to include the proviso.