Summer Ennui - Armchair Sportsman

It wasn't so long ago that I used to write about baseball pretty often, or at least make facebook and twitter posts about it.  This foul season (pun fully intended) I've had plenty of time off because I have been able to disengage.  My hometown Phillies just haven't been the reliable sideshow they have in years past; this time around, they're the train wreck you CAN look away from.

Their fall from grace, from the commanding top position in their division to one of the worst records in major league baseball hasn't even been interesting.  Their lackluster playing makes it seem like just another day at work for them.  They can't even flame out spectacularly.  But for some strange reason, the front office thinks there's still a championship team there.  The evidence was in the Tuesday trades - getting rid of Shane Victorino and Hunter Pence, seemingly at a loss, while holding onto players who are clearly underperforming and who represent clear weaknesses.  For instance--

Ryan Howard.  It's time for Reuban Amaro and everyone else in the organization to just admit that Howard's career as a daily player in the National League is over.  Send him to the AL where he can serve out his time as a DH and be done with him.  His career has been in decline since he signed his multi-year deal and since his injury, he simply can't move at major league levels.

Roy Halliday.  The great pitcher is in decline.  His ERA is bad this year and his mental grip seems to be shaky at best.  Get rid of him while he's still worth something.

Chase Utley.  I understand he and Howard were key elements in the 2008 season, but that season is long gone, as are his knees.  You're either creating a championship team or you're trying to jerry-rig a championship team from the past.  Only one of those options leads to new championships.

Charlie Manuel.  He may be a great hitting coach, but it's not showing in the offense.  He may be a great manager, but they're not winning games.  The blame can't all be found in the outfield.  Manuel needs to retire gracefully, before it's clear to everyone that his taciturn press conferences aren't revealing homespun wisdom but a detachment from reality.

The flip side to clearing space is developing new talent.  That, of course, implies there's new talent to develop, or that your scouts and minor league managers are able to spot it.  The solution is not to spend more time on guys like Dominic Brown, who have already had more than one shot at the show and been unable to cut it.

I'm going to miss Shane Victorino, who was a bit of heart and soul on the field.  He always brought his A-game, and he always had a smile while doing it.  He may be the only guy to be happy playing.  He was certainly more happy than I've been watching.

Post Season

Wait, wait, what?  There's still post-season baseball going on?  But the two best teams in baseball are done, so that doesn't make any sense.  What do you mean there's port-season baseball?

What it means is that there were a couple of young, hungry teams, who played as if every single out were an elimination out, and they proved that a lot of heart can overcome staunch professionalism and experience.  The Phillies (I'm not going to talk about the Yankees, because they are beneath contempt, and there's no shortage of New Yorkers to do their post-mortem) spent a season doggedly pursuing their only stated goal: the World Series.  Despite injuries, a shallow bullpen, and odd managing choices, the Phillies did what they needed to do: win 2 out of 3 games, over the course of 162 games.  They did it professionally, which is to say, like any good businessmen, they put on their suits, they clocked in, and did what they were supposed to.  But... oh, but for that one big question...

Were their hearts in it?

It sure didn't seem that way for most of the season.  When mid-season trade Hunter Pence is the only guy looking like he's having any fun, that should be a signal to the manager that something's wrong.  The team has now morphed into a group of paycheck players who have been hired to win a world championship, and every move the "employees" make seems to have that unspoken job performance rating attached: if I don't win will I be playing for the Phillies next year?  When you're worried more about what you stand to lose than what you stand to gain, you're never going to beat the teams that play like they have nothing to lose.

Worse yet, you're not going to have any fun.

It's tiring watching a group of overpaid guys play a game -- a sporting game, but a game nonetheless -- and have them wear their grim professionalism ALL THE TIME.  Why?  What's to be grumpy about?  They are the few, the chosen ones for whom genetics and circumstances have allowed a perpetual childhood playing America's greatest game, and they're unhappy?  If your heart's not in it, if every game isn't the World Series and a sandlot game combined in your head, then it's time to walk off the field.

As the Phillies endure the long, cold winter, and shuffle the chips around in search of the dynasty that almost was, they need to consider that fun is what it's really supposed to be about.  The fans don't want to see emotionless robots on the field, we want to see a team.  And when it costs over $100 for a family to go see a game, even in the cheap seats, you owe us not just a team that's playing the odds over the 162-game spread, but a team that plays as if every game is the last, with the joy and fierceness of champions.

It is, after all, baseball.

Season's End

So, I pretty much stayed away from blogging about baseball all season. Now the season's over and I can't resist anymore. I saw a lot of games this summer and followed the Phillies into the post-season, trying to maintain my cool through the slumps and bumps of a very uneven year. Mostly, I think the Phils look like a team that's made it to October in spite of themselves.

The pattern for the summer was injuries, followed by batting slumps, followed by an uneven bullpen. The one thing you can take away from the regular summer schedule is this: three excellent starters can't carry the entire team. When all the bats are firing, the team can't be beat, and that reveals the potential for the team overall. Whenever the bats were lined up, though, the bullpen then seemed to be unable to deliver. It was a summer spent out of sync.

Now, after game three of the championship series, and a loss to the Giants, where the bats didn't show up, it looks like we're out of sync again. I've learned with the Phillies, and baseball in general, you have to take the long view. It's a seven-game series and anything could happen, but today's play didn't offer too many bright spots. When the top slots in the batting order can't deliver the hits needed, you can't win. Statistically, the Phillies had the best record in baseball, but apparently, that run to the end, where everything clicked, burned the team out and now the engine is stuttering.

What seems most distressing, though, is the team seems to be... grinding. They don't appear to have any joy in the games they're playing. They're tight and anxious, and it's sometimes downright painful to watch, like they're psyching themselves out of the running as millions watch.

When you see that level of frustration in high definition, you start to ask yourself why you're watching the pain. I've got enough stress in my life, without spending three hours watching a team that has the potential to dominate all comers stumble over their own anxieties. Yes, of course I'm reading too much into this. A shrink would say I'm projecting. But I, like most people in this economy, have a lot more to do than I did last season, so sitting to watch baseball is an indulgence. Lately, indulgences make me anxious, because I can't shake off the knowledge that I've got an ever-increasing list of responsibilities waiting when the game is over. I'm looking to trim anxieties out of my life and, unless things turn around, baseball might not survive the cut.

Hit the Showers

As the baseball season winds to a close, with the indomitable Yankees taking the Phillies to school, I have come to a new conclusion: no matter how much talent you have on your team, no matter the efforts select members put forth, it is possible, even at the highest professional level, for one guy to screw the pooch.

Growing up, there's much talk of the benefits of being on a team, and learning to work together, and all kinds of other sports metaphors for life which really don't mean a thing if you're the kid getting the shit beat out of you in the showers. There's a lot of people who say it's all a team effort, that it's not about individuals, and the people who say that are just full of crap.

In baseball, you're playing for a team, but the reality is you're only as strong as your weakest link. Here comes the surprise: I'm not really complaining about Brad Lidge, the once-bullet-proof closer. I'm talking about Charlie Manuel, the manager. You see, Lidge should never have been on the mound in the first place. Everyone in Philadelphia knows it, the Yanks discovered it, and you can bet that every single Phillie knew it before Lidge's toe ever hit the rubber.

How demoralizing must it be to the other players to see Lidge warming up? Because no matter how strongly you've come back to tie the game, you have less than even chances that Lidge will be able to hold the game tie, especially to bats as ferocious as the Yankees. Think about this: at your job, if you clearly screw up more than half the time, how long would your boss keep you around?

We're not in your neighborhood baseball league, where everyone gets to participate despite their skill level or lack thereof. We're in the World Series. No one cares about Lidge's self-esteem. It's nothing personal. He can't do the job, he shouldn't be on the mound. Why can't Manuel see that? Why won't somebody tell him?

I'm gonna watch tonight, because no one does what Cliff Lee does. It'll be a treat. I've had enough tricks for one season.

Monday - Shotgun Rules

So, it's Monday morning. I've got a mountain of work I'm trying to climb. Only one cup of coffee aboard the system so far, no coherent thoughts in my brain - and isn't that just a great reason to keep reading? - but I want to not disappoint all the readers out there. All, like, three of you who tune in regularly. So rather than have something organized and coherent, I'm taking the shotgun approach, hoping that if I fire enough little nuggets, one or more will stick in you.

• Glenn Beck is a moron. He's an hysterical little girl, with a shaky grasp of both politics and history, who hopes that if he's shrill enough you won't realize how asinine his ideas are. The irony is that his listeners/viewers apparently don't recognize his tactics as those favored by the very shadowy political movements he wants you to fear. Hitler could shout with the best of them, just like you, Glenn.
• Nancy Grace seems to come from the same journalistic school. If you're loud, you must be right. Her confrontation with John Gosselin did something I didn't think was possible: made me feel bad for him.
• The Phillies played baseball in 20-degree weather last night. This to me is a clear sign that places where winter falls this early should not have baseball teams, and that THE SEASON GOES ON TOO DAMN LONG! In the 1970 World Series, with the Oriels of my boyhood dreams, there were two games played by this time in the calendar, and we aren't even out of the playoffs, yet.
• I have to admit, the Yankees played a couple of great games. I still hate them.
• Although I can appreciate the historical symmetry of a Dodgers/Yankees series, that's only marginally more interesting than a LA/LA series. Go Phils!
• Cub Scouts has come a long way since I was a kid. Camping in a fort, with an outdoor movie and indoor plumbing really isn't "roughing it."
• It's frighteningly easy to get yourself piled with work, just by being a nice person and having a genuine desire to help people out. So I've heard.
• Many parents don't understand the concept of movie ratings. Apparently, they think: "Yeah, R. That means it's something the family watches together." On a psychotherapy note: if you take your little kid to see Zombieland, you can't complain at them for not being able to get to sleep, or if they start gnawing on your fleshy parts.
• Nobel Peace Prize. I'm just sayin'.
• And finally, dinner with famous comics guys is a lot of fun. Listening to Mike Mignola and John Arcudi go at it and getting a glimpse inside the Hellboy universe... good times.

So, there, in no particular order was my week. Go ahead, pick out the pellets.

A Note to MLB

So, I'm blogging live from my couch where, with beer and pretzels, I'm watching the second game of a double-header between the Phillies and the Marlins. Now, I won't comment on the Phillies' ongoing game of musical chairs in the bullpen, but I have to take note of the pathetic attendance at "Land Shark" stadium. It looks like a high school baseball game where only the parents and girlfriends make up the audience. That's pathetic.

The Phillies are the current world champions and the Marlins are in the running for a playoff spot. All they can drum up is a paying attendance of a couple dozen? Okay, let's think about this. It could be the ticket prices, because anything on the lower deck will cost north of $50. It could be that Florida just isn't a baseball state. I mean, there's no early bird special, because tv sports don't run during the week at 4:30. It could also be that Major League Baseball has bitten off more than it can chew. What do I mean? Simple: there's too many damn teams.

It's not longer special to see a big league game, because there's a stadium in almost every city, and your team is always on TV. So, many games are played in almost empty stadiums to crowds watching only in their living rooms. I'm not such an old fart that I'm gonna start complaining about the good old days of baseball, but I will say that maybe it's time of the leagues to contract. Fewer teams would mean higher quality players, and will make a trip to the park a true special event, possibly worth the ridiculous ticket prices. Meantime, stop showing games from empty stadiums. If you people don't care enough to see your home team live, why should I watch your pathetic town's excuse for a ball club?

Screenwriting Lessons From Baseball

If you're expecting a discourse on Bull Durham or Pride of the Yankees, you're going to be disappointed, here. We're going to start today's lesson from the trenches with a dissection of what's wrong with pro baseball. I'm pretty sure this applies to most pro sports, but I don't give a flying fuck about them, so you're stuck with baseball as the metaphor of the day.

Some of my fondest memories from being a kid were of the evenings when we'd pile into the car and drive down to Baltimore to catch a mid-week Oriels game; we'd leave when my mom got home from work, drive the hour to the stadium, buy a couple of tickets, watch batting practice, try to cage autographs, eat hot dogs, then watch the game, drive the hour home drowsy in mid-summer torpor, and be in bed by 11. My family didn't have a whole lot of money, but we didn't have to skip any meals to afford a couple of games a month. If you look at it in today's terms, I could never do this with my kids. Seats comparable to those we used to get are now $60 in Philadelphia. You can easily spend $100 on food and not be sated. What the fuck happened to baseball?

I can understand that ticket prices go up. I don't think prices rise in proportion to any real market influence, but let's just leave money out of it for now. The real baseball crime is that it now takes four hours to play a game, and mostly what you watch is a pitching duel. You're lucky if you see five hits in a game. I gotta tell you, this is boring as shit. Watching managers shuffle pitchers to match individual batters is frustrating and annoying for the fans. It's sucking every last bit of fun out of the game. Therein lies my point.

When it comes to writing scripts, you need to keep the fun. By that, I don't mean you have to be writing comedy, but that you have to keep the enjoyment of what you're doing in the front of your mind. Most of you aren't get paid to write, so you better be having fun on some level, and it better show in your scripts.

When people gripe about Hollywood movies - and this summer's crop has been especially bad - they're griping about the pitchers' duel: films so neutered of any kind of creative enjoyment in favor of some committee-created entertainment processed to be marketed to some particular demographic that they've sucked the fun out of going to the movies. Your first draft script is about the only thing in the process you can actually call your own, so enjoy it, let a reader sense that, and swing for the fences.