This was originally going to be a Felix PITCHf/x post, but I wasn't sure where that one was going to go. I don't know where this is going to go, either, but I have a beginning, which is enough. I'm just going to write and think at the same time and see what comes out.

Driving to the airport last Friday, my Padres fan friend and I joked about how it was the second week of May and already our seasons were over. Then later that night, Matthew and I checked the Mariners score, saw that they were losing, and laughed. Some people might think that's kind of weird, but what choice did we have? There was no other appropriate way to respond. We laughed because our favorite team is bad.

The Jeff of ten years ago would've taken offense to this. The Jeff of ten years ago would've stood by his team and scolded us for giving up so fast. The Jeff of ten years ago wouldn't dream of abandoning hope until the numbers told him to, because the Jeff of ten years ago saw the bright side of dark.

But the Jeff of ten years ago was never fully exposed to the team, not like I am now. The Jeff of ten years ago didn't spend hours every day watching the Mariners lose and then spend more hours every day writing about how they lost. The Jeff of ten years ago could afford to maintain a high degree of hope because, for the Jeff of ten years ago, hope wasn't a costly investment. And the Jeff of ten years ago could more readily accept bad losses and worse seasons because the Jeff of ten years ago didn't know what it feels like to pour yourself into something and then have to come to terms with one crushing disappointment after another. I guess that's one of those side benefits that comes with age.

I'm more rational about these things now. The Jeff of ten years ago would call it something else, but I'm calling it rational. I'm more rational because I have to be, because once you identify a team as bad, there's no sense in continuing to live and die by how it does. Every action a person takes is preceded by a cost/benefit analysis in his brain. You drive to work because the convenience of quick transport outweighs the cost to your wallet and to the environment. You eat a piece of cake because the deliciousness outweighs your health concerns. Or you don't eat a piece of cake because your health concerns outweigh the deliciousness. Everything we do is done because our brains tell us it's worth doing.

Investing yourself in a lousy team - that isn't worth doing. It feels kind of bad to say that, since sports are supposed to be this massive catch-all emotional outlet, but in the interest of remaining sane, once you know a team is bad, it doesn't make sense to get up for every game, because the magnitude of the lows will be larger than the magnitude of the highs. That's a losing proposition if I've ever seen one.

Over the last several days, I have compensated for the Mariners' slump by lowering my level of emotional investment. It has indeed reached the point at which I can laugh at losses that - were this a contending team - would drive me up the wall. And I have allowed myself to get to this point because it's the only way for me to ensure the team doesn't break me down. Many of you have probably observed yourselves doing the same thing. Others of you probably haven't, and that's okay. I don't expect everyone to be in the same boat. This is simply what I have determined to be the best course of action for me.

As strange as it may sound to some of you, though, this isn't depressing. This isn't a letdown. Well, it's a letdown in that we all thought the team would be better, but I don't find myself to be particularly upset with the current situation. While it may not be all that exciting, it's comfortable, and it's familiar, and it's steady. For those of us who're fans of baseball more than fans of winning, parts are even rather pleasant. The existence of fans of losing teams is not an empty one. We're granted the option of watching a new game almost every single day, a game that will invariably feature all-world talent and at least one or two things that amaze us. More often than not, that's enough, even in the absence of wild emotion and a winning context. The sport doesn't need a pennant chase to be enjoyable, and following a losing team allows you to focus on baseball's other appealing qualities for which we're all so thankful.

People have asked me if part of the reason I'm okay with the current development is because it proves I was right all along back in the offseason. To which I reply:

(A) I wasn't right
(B) No

I wasn't right because I thought the team would be better than this. I thought JJ would be healthy, I thought Bedard would be healthy, I thought Felix would be more consistent, and so on and so forth. I thought a lot of things that haven't come true. They may come true in the following months, but as of this writing, my overall expectations were wrong. What I was right about was that the team wasn't an ace away from being a title contender, and I suppose this is why people probably ask me that question, but my answer is "no" because I don't derive pleasure from being right. I expect to be right. Everybody expects to be right. And there's limited pleasure to be had from something you expect, pleasure that - if it ever existed in my brain - has been overruled by the disappointment of a losing season.

I don't have any faith in this team. I think this is the year that finally sealed the deal. I don't have any faith in this team, and I don't have any faith in the people running it. When I'm talking about events that could happen down the road, I don't say stupid things to be funny; I say stupid things because I expect stupid things to happen. That is the pattern that I have detected from the front office. This roster is loaded with all kinds of talent, but I have absolutely zero hope that the guys in charge will know what to do with it. Why should I? What reason do I have to believe that the suits will be capable of turning this Potemkin village of a baseball team into something more substantial? There isn't one. The organizational executives have never demonstrated a thorough understanding of how to build a successul ballclub.

But here's what might be the best part of lowering the level of emotion you invest: you're able to let these things go. If you can find happiness in watching a losing baseball team, it makes little difference how the team is constructed. In fact, I'll cast a broader net - it makes little difference how the team is constructed, how the team is run, or how the team performs. In times like these, I find myself to be far less critical and far more forgiving of errors and other assorted lapses in judgment. I didn't get mad at Jose Lopez for blowing that routine groundball the other day. I don't think I've called for McLaren to get fired since last September. And I'm not about to go crazy demanding for Bavasi's head on a stick, even after an offseason that at this point looks like a total catastrophe. I don't get mad about those kinds of things because I've found happiness in being able to come home from work every day and turn on a baseball game, and not even the dumbest of blunders is going to make the games go away. There will always be games to watch, no matter how bad the screw-ups. And so the screw-ups don't get under my skin the way they did a year ago when this team was actually playing for something.

There's always going to be that little part of me that continues to hold out hope until there's no hope left to hold. While the Jeff of ten years ago may have grown up, those childhood qualities never completely die off. Certainly, if the Mariners catch lightning in a bottle and manage to pull themselves into the race, that little part of my brain will admonish the rest for throwing in the towel, and I'll boost my emotional investment back to a level more befitting a fan of a contending team. Of this there is no doubt in my mind.

But assuming that doesn't happen (and probability says that it won't), I'll be okay. I'll be okay because I've managed to find happiness in the sport's most fundamental unit - the game - and as long as I'm able to drive home, make dinner, and watch the Mariners do whatever they end up doing, then baseball will continue to be all that I need it to be. I wasn't drawn to this sport by a winning team, and I sure as hell wasn't sucked in by one, so I don't see why I should make the existence of one be a condition of my continuing love. For 16 years, that hasn't been part of my policy. And for 16 years, my policy's worked.

Internet still on the fritz at home... but a sign of improvement is that my router showed a signal this morning before I left, whereas the previous days it showed none.  I'll try and give them a call this afternoon, but I'm getting bombed at work and I'm amazed I got as much of this written before lunch as I did.  I finished up the write-ups proper during lunch.

Meanwhile, today was a good day for teams not named the High Desert Mavericks.

On to the wrap-up!

Continue reading this post »

Seattle: 16-26
Padres: 15-26

GAMES

Game 1: Miguel Batista vs Chris Young
Game 2: Erik Bedard* vs Randy Wolf*
Game 3: Felix Hernandez vs Shawn Estes*

Well, I was right about the one game. Yay! I had a whole paragraph written about Washburn and what the Mariners might do and then they went ahead and already announced they were skipping his start. So, shoot. On the plus side, I get to see Felix for the third time this year instead of that asshole Bedard and his regressing self.

Randy Wolf was a pitcher I desperately stumped for this offseason. The Padres signed him for one year and $4.75 million guarenteed with some performance bonuses for games started and innings pitched that could push his salary to a maximum of $8.75 million. That's three less years and at leat $40 million less than Carlos Silva. Randy Wolf is better than Carlos Silva and is also left-handed. Padres = smart. Mariners = dumb. This is the sort of thing that fills me with confidence for our shot at first overall in 2009.

Continue reading this post »

So I was just scrolling through box scores, as I am wont to do when it's nighttime and the Mariners aren't playing, and when I clicked on Houston/San Francisco, I happened upon an unexpected sight:

Brian Moehler. This guy. The guy who the Reds picked up for Noochie Varner at the deadline when he was supposedly on his last legs back in 2002.

I couldn't believe it. I consider myself to be pretty damn up to date when it comes to being familiar with current Major Leaguers and for whom they play, but this one caught me by surprise. Brian Moehler's still around and even getting himself some starts. Who knew?

This discovery inspired me to go through everyone who's played in the big leagues this year to find out who else I'm missing. What follows is a list of such players, in no particular order:

Ramon Santiago
Aaron Boone
Kevin Cash
Wil Nieves
Brady Clark
Damion Easley
Marlon Anderson
Robby Hammock
Luis Rivas
Jose Cruz Jr.
Nelson Figueroa
Mark Redman
Chan Ho Park
Chad Durbin
Justin Miller
Ron Mahay
Ramon Ramirez
Mike Lincoln
Doug Waechter
Seth McClung
Kent Mercker
Keith Foulke
Tim Byrdak
Russ Springer
Chad Fox
Yhency Brazoban
Armando Benitez

Aside from having been forgotten, all these guys also share the common trait of being terrible. Lesson being, if you want me to remember that you're still in the Major Leagues, don't suck. Or suck spectacularly. If you just suck a little bit and either occupy an unimportant role or disappear for a while, that's a great way to make people think you're lying when you introduce yourself at parties.

I only got to watch a limited amount of today's game, so all I really have to say is that Miguel Cairo and Jarrod Washburn might form the worst GWRBI/save combination of all time.

Biggest Contribution: Arthur Rhodes, +34.6%
Biggest Suckfest: Wladimir Balentien, -30.4%
Most Important AB: Cairo single, +31.9%
Most Important Pitch: Byrd DP, +27.5%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): +91.4%
Total Contribution by Hitters: -55.5%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +14.1%
(What is this chart?)

Not included in Wlad's Biggest Suckfest WPA is the fact that, once again, he was a circus out there in right field. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for a little while since he has a decent reputation and he's still getting used to a new level and new parks, but through his first couple weeks in the big leagues, he's been an absolute defensive disaster. I wasn't expecting that.

I'll also say this - Byrd's double play in the bottom of the seventh is a pretty good example of how you can still get excited watching a team that's no good. With the recent tailspin firmly entrenched in the forefront of my mind, that at bat had tragedy written all over it once Rhodes fell behind 2-0, and when he fell behind 3-0 it was all I could do to keep from turning away. But he got Byrd to roll over on an inside fastball, and Lopez's relay to Cairo arrived just in time to preserve the Mariners' narrow lead. I thrust a water bottle that was unknowingly capless into the air in celebration, which is pretty much the best you can do in an office environment without coming off as an annoying douchebag.

I'd like to say the game turned on that one pitch, because it would be easy, but considering the Rangers came back to tie things up in the next inning, I guess technically it wouldn't be "correct". So I'll just say it was awesome. A walk or a hit there would've been way too obvious.

End please

We may be on the verge of blowing this lead but hey at least the Stars are doomed.

Internet's still crapped out at home, so this was written on the fly at work.  It's improved, though: coming in and out rather than just being out entirely.

Not a bad day in the org.  Triunfel's still out.  No, I don't know what's up with him.

Also, read this article by Kirby Arnold, and count the spelling errors!

On to the wrap-up!

Continue reading this post »

I haven't been watching this game, thanks to work and all that fun stuff, but it would appear from the line score that our corner outfield defense is awesomely bad.

Hi kids!
Welcome to the Uncle Bobo show!
Are you ready to sing?
Come on, let's go!
Billy and his family went on a holiday
They went down to Florida to laugh and dance and play
Bill went in for a swim, he didn't see the harm
But when he came back out again, he was short an arm
'Cause Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp
Billy and his father went out to play some catch
But Billy missed the pass because his arm was unattached
The ball flew past his shoulder and it rolled into the swamp
When he went wading after it his leg became a stump
'Cause Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp
Billy and his father joined a three-legged race
They were tearing up the field, no one could keep the pace
But Billy tripped and did a flip and landed in the muck
He was running out of limbs and also out of luck
'Cause Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp
Billy was all dirty, he really had to wash
But he couldn't use a towel 'cause his limbs had been gnawed off
He went into the water to get all clean and bright
But when his bath was finished he was only half his height
'Cause Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp
Billy's father rolled his wheelchair up upon a hill
He wanted to put Bill where he would not get killed
But he left him on a slope, and into the swamp he rolled
They dragged out his head but there was nothing left below
'Cause Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Rippy the Gator went chomp, chomp, chomp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp
Passing the time by ending children's lives
Down in the bottom of the swamp, swamp, swamp