Booooo

So Indians closer Chris Perez went off on his own team's fanbase the other day, calling them out for their boo-happy ways and the team's home attendance ranking (dead last).

"Asked if it bothered him to get booed at home, Perez said, "It doesn't bother me, it p----s me off. I don't think they have a reason to boo me." "

And despite his horrible beard, the dude is right.  Maybe it's my own personal bias showing here, but it's generally accepted that booing the home team is poor form at best and assholish at worst.  It breaks the fan code.  My fan code, anyway.  Unless a player is openly dogging it on the field, or is caught punching a puppy in the face away from the park, it's a distasteful practice.  I'm sorry (I'm really not) if you're a booer and the above offends you, but what... you're going to scream at a player's talent level relative to the competition?

"Hey Overbay, you're middling power at first base is offensive to me!  Booo!  Booooo!"

"Vernon Wells!  Your biweekly paycheque is not commensurate with the level of production you are showing on the field!  Your tireless community improvement charity work and playing through injury doesn't cut it with me!  Screw your tenure and model behavior on this team!  BOOOOO!"

"Rios, failing to fulfill your poten..." nevermind, because Rios didn't give a fuck so let him have it.  There are exceptions to rules, y'know.

But back to the matter at hand.... if we can agree (I know we don't) that booing the home team is distasteful, why is it then OK to rip a player apart via twitter?  This whole post was borne from Ricky Romero's twitter bomb the other night following his shaky (generous!) start vs the damn Rays.

And no, I don't care to link to it, because quite frankly, I'm hurt by your words, Rick.  In case you missed it, after chastising the hatas out there, Romero concluded that none of it mattered because he plays for his teammates and his family.  As I noted on twitter, for those of you who follow, it felt like a big F-U to the fanbase.

But can you blame him?  Can you blame Chris Perez, who made similar comments (and maybe Mr. Rick followed that story more closely than we think...)

"It's a business. You didn't choose to get drafted by Cleveland. I'm in it for my family. Who knows? I could throw my last pitch tomorrow.

"At the same time, I'm here. I'm here to win. I'm here for my teammates and I want to bring a championship to Cleveland, to do my job and help the team win. I think I do a pretty good job of showing that on the field. I don't think I bring any undue attention to myself. I'm out there for the team. In big wins, I get excited and I'm like a kid again, because it's fun."

It's the downside of social media.  Twitter at it's best brings fans closer to athletes; it gives us a window into their lives, personalities, and in some cases, their intimate thoughts.  That's also the downside.  It allows parasites to flap their yaps in their direction and drive a wedge between the player and the fans in general, even if 95% are well meaning.

I don't want Romero and the boys to be mad at us.  So cut it out, jerks.

Whither Adam Lind?

(If the post title sounds familiar, it probably should.)

See, I hate this side of the game.

I'm as guilty as the next guy about pining for a better option at first base than the struggling incumbent, but when you're pining for that more productive bat, you're not really thinking in the context of a lifelong Blue Jay losing his place on the team.  Are you?  I know I'm not.

Who hopes for that?  "Hey!  I hope that human piece of baseball garbage Adam Lind is optioned to AAA and outrighted right off the damn 40-man roster!"  C'mon.

Maybe it's just me... it's very likely to be just me, even... but I can't always separate the human side of the game.  Yeah yeah yeah... here comes the Ack, bringing his maudlin shit to the internet again, crying crocodile tears for a millionaire athlete who's time in the Toronto sun just might be over.  Boo hoo, wipe your tears with the millions still owed Lind, right?

Well, forget about the money for a moment.

Adam Lind was a guy we watched grow up in the organization, from highly touted hitting prospect, to the major league boy wonder, to the Silver Slugging first baseman who'd man the position for years to come.  No worries!  Or so we thought.  Think of it in terms of today... imagine if Travis Snider is recalled and finally lives up to the hype.  Dominates for a few seasons.  Then falls right the fuck off the map to the point where he's designated. 

You wouldn't feel a little sentimental about that?  Who isn't pulling for Snider?

Before you answer that, remember there was a time when we all pulled for Adam Lind, too, and he made it. 

So you'll forgive me if I'm having a little bit of a hard time just walking away from that.

The "Incident"

A few quick points of order, as tonight's banging of the gong has pulled me from the doldrums of self-imposed exile (is anyone reading this, anyway?)...

1. You can't defend the helmet-toss, you just can't.  Those were some egregiously bad strike calls, reeking of horse-shittery and show-uppery of the first degree by venerable old Billy Miller, but you can't bounce the lid off his leg.  That's instant suspension zone, and I'd be surprised if it was less than 5 games (equally surprised if it exceeds 10).

Truth is I know nothing of the ump, but now I've got him squarely in the Bob Davidson category of umpiring.  Way to steal the show, boss.  I know that I dedicate countless hours of my life just waiting for the boys in blue to make highlight of the night.

2.  ... and yet - are you surprised?  I might be inclined to say I'm surprised it's taken this long for Brett Lawrie to explode/implode, given the way he plays the game and lives life in general (my assumption only).

3.  As bad as it was - and you can't explain away the optics of it all, because they are terrible - I ain't mad at ya, Brett.  To each his own when it comes to perspective, but Brett Lawrie is a fun guy to watch play the game, and you have to take the good with the bad when it comes to an animal athlete who walks that very fine line between going all-out... and being out of control.

4.  I think my next post might be on the Jays' collective swag... where has it gone, will it come back (maybe this is the spark?), and do we want it to come back?  But I could be talked out of it.  Let me know, friends. 

Until then...

 

Intangibles? You talkin' intangibles? Intangibles?

(editor's note (that's me): didn't mean for there to be such a delay between posts, but sometimes "real life" gets in the way.  Remember, no promises!)

(ed note pt II: sorry for ripping off the pic from your twitter feed, Rick... but I believe it's for the greater good and I'm not pimping anything around here.  Hit me up on twitter if you want me to yank it.)

(ed note pt III: yeah, right...)

So this is the post that probably sets me aside as an outcast among hardcore Jays fans.  You see... it's not that I'm against advanced statistical analysis.  It's fascinating stuff.  I'll admit that some of the measurements out there float more than just above my head, and I'll doubly admit that I've invested some time in attempting to understand them all before giving up out of confusion... or boredom.

Here's the gist of it: I want there to be a romantic side of baseball.  I want to believe there's more that goes into becoming a successful team than a simple accumulation of the most statistically attractive athletes.  We've all heard the argument that "I don't care if it's a roster of 25 unlikeable assholes - as long as they win".  I may have agreed with such statements in the past, but my heart wasn't really into it, man.

Isn't it more fun this way, rooting for a team that clearly roots for each other?  Isn't it more gratifying to know there's joy in the dugout and locker room after each win, with the boys slappin' backs and dishing out the praise amongst peers?  You don't care if the old adage of "25 guys/25 cabs" applies so long as the club wins 95 games?  You want to cheer for the 2011 Boston Red Sox?

Well, pardon my language, but fuck all that.   Of course I want 95 wins too, but I want the team to want it for each other as well, and not just for contractual purposes.

Am I an old fool for this?  I dunno.  What I do know is that I chuckle every time I see Brett Lawrie run through his intricate routine of personalized handshakes with each teammate in the dugout, I laugh when Jose and Edwin flex their muscles after a big fly, I enjoy reading Ricky Romero tell Drabek "Shut up Kyle!" over twitter.

I look at and manipulate numbers every day to earn my keep in life; you'd think a stats-based view of this game would be right up my alley.  But sometimes it feels like death by overanalysis.  I'm not saying I'm right, but I guess I'm saying it's time to get back to fun.  I'll leave the advanced metrics to the front office.

***

Sometimes you run across a post that feels like God's work - whoever your God may be, if you choose to believe in one.  And if you don't, just call it full-on nails.  You can find such words here.  As I type this, my 20 month old boy is wearing his Blue Jays cap with the curved peak pulled down low, just like his dad does.  That's just proper parenting, friends.

A two-sentence post on... the ups and downs of baseball

(note: yeah, I guess I'm totally ripping off my old 2-sentence post shtick from days past, but this is the kind of hacktastic nonsense the Tao has abandoned, leaving for the dregs of blogging society... ie: this guy.  So there you go.  Carry on...)

Sometimes, after especially difficult losses such as last night's giveaway game to the Seattle Ichiros, you feel like throwing your laptop through the damn TV before lighting fire to all the team merch you once loved and cherished. 

Then you wake up the next morning, and the sun is shining, and you're checking the guide (on the same TV you chose not to smash) to see when the next one is on, and curse the hours leading up because you can't hardly wait... and that is why I love baseball.

Apologies in Advance

I figure before the Blue Jays lose even one more game, I need to do one of two things: quit twitter altogether, or apologize in advance to those I'm about to lose my shit on.

You see... quitting twitter isn't really an option, since I enjoy the interaction with fellow fans and friends, and in this day and age of instant information, it's a source I just couldn't do without.  So that leaves me with no other choice....

I'm sorry, friends and fellow Blue Jay "fans", for any hurtful, insulting, or demeaning words I may throw your way in the days and weeks ahead.  I mean no long-term offence, and I'm sure you're not just a mindless, mouth-breathing, keyboard warrior bandwagon jumping doucher.  I'd like to think that I'm typically a pretty pleasant & agreeable dude, and we'd probably get along famously in "real life" should our paths ever cross, but you see, I'm getting tired.  Frustrated.  Borderline maddened (if there is such a word, and if not, may I coin the phrase?).

Maybe it's because I'm getting older (mid-30's, FRIG OFF).  Maybe it's because I'm raising two kids and was forced to learn that valuable life lesson: "patience is a virtue".  Maybe it's because I tell my 5 year old daughter that things don't always go your way, and that's life.

Or maybe it's because I have more than an ounce of damn sense in my head and am able to realize that it's ridiculous to make lunatic judgments and assertions based on one shitty - albeit extremely shitty - series early on in baseball's 162 game schedule.

Yunel Escobar has not proven that Atlanta was smart to trade him.  This latest bout of petulance was not a welcome addition to his lost hitting stroke to start the year, on this we agree - but give your heads a shake if you think the Jays are better off without him and BRING BACK THE PMoD.

Jose Bautista has not turned into a baseball pumpkin overnight.  Are his usually "must-see" plate appearance a little hard to watch right now?  Yeah, they are a little painful.  But guys in their prime and coming off back-to-back .995/1.056 OPS seasons don't forget how to be good baseball players over the course of a Dominican winter.  Oh, and that "terrible" 2nd half he endured last season?  .896 OPS.  Not so terrible.

And can we please leave Eric Thames alone, since we're here and talking about things?  I understand the whole Team Snider dynamic - I get that, I really do... meats don't clash baby, and I want him rocking that beautiful new/old Blue Jay uniform set too... but the pendulum seems to have swung so far in the pro-Snider camp that we're in anti-Thames territory, hoping for him to fail, which is just a touch counter intuitive to bemoaning the team's recent struggles, don't you think?

I could go on, but I think we've reached the point in this here little rant where I'm just banging the drum for the sake of noise.

So, I'm sorry.  I really am.  I expect we'll be able to be friends again when the Jays rip off any semblance of a winning streak. 

Win-win.

So... here I am again

I'll ask the question before you get a chance... why exactly am I doing this again?  And why should anyone care?

The second question is the easier of the two to answer, and quite simply & honestly, I don't know that anyone will.  I won't pretend to play it super cool and say "...and it doesn't matter to me anyway", because let's be honest here - I could just start an old fashioned pen & paper diary if I wasn't looking for at least some interaction.

To answer the first is, well, difficult.  I would assume it's safe to say that if you've found this post, you follow me on twitter, and you're probably following me on twitter because I used to blog (weekend party host, baby) for this little page called the Tao of Stieb.  I gave up that gig because the pay sucked and Tao was an unruly tyrant, ever more demanding of my valuable time.   Jokes!  I kid, Tao, I kid!

But in all seriousness now, friends, Tao moved on to bigger and better things (you may have seen his name splashed across Jays broadcasts, and published in that little thing called Sportsnet Magazine), and to be honest, I was content to fade into the background and, basically, not fuck it all up.  I quite simply do not aspire to be anything more than I am, an honest dude with a career and a family "in real life" with a bit of a Blue Jay obsession, only now I'm finding I have things I want to say again.

So what can I promise you with this blog?  Not much in the way of hard and fast guarantees, I'm afraid.  No fixed posting schedule.  No minimum posts/week guarantees.  No advanced sabremetrics (I'm borderline dumb that way).  No gifs (pronounced hard-g, by the way), and zero photoshop skills.

I can tell you I'll blog about the Blue Jays, my takes and feelings, not always supported by empirical evidence, and very likely to often leave myself open for ridicule.  But again, with the honesty... I don't really give a damn there either, because I'm nothing more than an unabashed fan of the team - of the game - and it's pretty probable that is how I'll come across.  I think I'm at my best (humblebrag loser) when I'm "writing" (feels awkward to say that) with more emotion than reason, so that's what you might see. 

Honestly, the last thing I felt good about posting on the damned internet might not have even been a Tao post, but rather this take on my beloved Winnipeg Jets (thanks Nav).  Or the weepy Roy Halladay stuff I bared my soul with (still luv u, Doc).

So read along and comment away, if you're so inclined.  Let's have some fun and be total Blue Jay homers together, with a sprinkle of reasonable opinion mixed in.  It might take some time but with practice, we'll find just the right balance of rational sense and blind optimism.

(Except when it comes to the Red Sox, because fuck those guys, y'know?)

Next blog post will be about baseball, I promise.

(Oh, and I spent literally five (5) minutes customizing the template, as you can all plainly see if you have any semblance of eyesight whatsoever.  I'll get around to cleaning that shit up to make it more visually appealing, add a blogroll, all the niceties you would see on any halfway decent blog.  Eventually.  Probably.  Hey - I've got kids man, what do you want from me - blood?)

Peace,
Ack.