I was racking my brain, trying to think of something to say about this latest nothing of a game, when the clock struck midnight, it officially became Felix Day, and I stopped caring. You should do the same.

62 games left.

Biggest Contribution: Ichiro, +7.7%
Biggest Suckfest: Adrian Beltre, -22.4%
Most Important AB: Beltre DP, -14.0%
Most Important Pitch: Drew homer, -10.3%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -10.8%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -39.2%
Total Contribution by Opposition: 0.0%
(What is this chart?)

"I saw him for a bit in Chicago (in 1997) when I was there," Riggleman said of Cairo. "He's become a much better player now. How old is he? Thiry-four? He's got a lot of baseball left to play."

Biggest Contribution: Yuniesky Betancourt, +6.9%
Biggest Suckfest: Miguel Cairo, -14.1%
Most Important AB: Ibanez DP, -11.7%
Most Important Pitch: Varitek homer, -23.8%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -2.9%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -47.1%
Total Contribution by Opposition: 0.0%
(What is this chart?)

If only there were someone who constantly warned against this sort of thing:

Riggleman said he first noticed that Silva might have a health issue during the fourth inning. The first batter doubled and the second one reached on an infield single. The next -- and final -- pitch Silva threw was hit by Kelly Shoppach for a home run.

"The pitch before that showed something," Riggleman said. "Kenji [Johjima] went out and checked on him, and Carlos said he was OK. After the home run, we went out, and he didn't protest too much about coming out."

I can't believe how often I've had to talk about this. I'm going to say it nice and slow, so that a fat idiot like Carlos Silva can't possibly misunderstand:

TRYING
TO
PITCH
THROUGH
PAIN
IS
STUPID
DON'T
TRY
EVER

Prior to the home run, Silva insisted he was okay to keep going. After the home run, he allowed Riggleman to take him out. We can infer from this that Silva believed his discomfort contributed to the home run, because otherwise he would've put up more of an argument. After all, he presumably wants to stay on the mound as long as he can. It wouldn't make sense for him to willingly leave the mound if he didn't think it necessary.

If Silva believes the discomfort contributed to the home run, that means he believes the discomfort made him pitch worse. If he believes the discomfort made him pitch worse, that means the discomfort was pretty substantial. If the discomfort was pretty substantial, he shouldn't have stayed on the mound in the first place. Because there's just nothing to gain by pitching when you hurt. Nothing.

Think about it. What's the possible upside? Proving yourself a warrior? Showing people that you have a lot of heart? Because the downsides are pretty obvious, and considering the upsides are personal while the downsides relate to the team, one could make the argument that trying to pitch through pain is the most selfish thing a player can do. It jeopardizes the team's big-picture goals for a shot at a pinch of individual glory. That's not being a hero, and it's not being a leader. It's being an asshole. Carlos Silva, you are a selfish asshole. Go shake hands with Miguel Batista. Perhaps you could form a club.

It's not up to the manager to know when a pitcher is laboring. He can guess, but only the pitcher knows how his body feels, and so pretty frequently he's the person who ultimately gets to make the call. Unfortunately, Silva decided to withhold pertinent information, and the team rather immediately suffered the consequences of his choice. Way to be a good teammate, stupid. Lying is totally good for everyone.

It's absurd the extent to which this whole pitching-through-pain thing is playing out. These guys really are that dumb.  Can we get past this already? Pitching through pain doesn't make you a soldier. It makes you a careless idiot. A careless idiot who's putting both himself and his team at risk for all sorts of bad news.

If I never again saw another guy try to pitch through moderate discomfort, I'd die a happy man. Here's to the day we stop applauding people for being morons, because perhaps only then will the majority of them quit being moronic.

Biggest Contribution: Jose Vidro, +9.3%
Biggest Suckfest: Carlos Silva, -28.7%
Most Important AB: Beltre double, +6.4% ; Johjima DP, -6.4%
Most Important Pitch: Shoppach homer, -17.6%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -32.2%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -17.9%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +0.1%
(What is this chart?)

I caught wind of RRS' starter conversion this afternoon via a text message from Dave. As the story goes, he's texted me to tell me about RRS' conversion and Felix's mention of the Open Letter, whereas I've ruined a Christmas party and a pleasant weekend by texting him news of the Bedard and Vidro trades. But anyway, as you can imagine, I'm absolutely in favor of this. It sucks for RRS in the short term because he has to go back to AAA, but the big league team doesn't really have room for him to stretch out at the moment, so Tacoma's his best opportunity. And should he pitch well, it won't be long before we see him again. I have to imagine that Batista's not long for the rotation, and even if his spot goes to Dickey, dumping Washburn on someone before the deadline opens up another slot. So would the team finally conceding that Bedard's a wreck and shutting him down. There will almost certainly be innings to throw, so as long as RRS makes a decent transition, his minor league stint should be pretty brief.

Good luck to you, Ryan. This is your chance. Seize it. We're all rooting for you.

As I sat here watching Gameday and listening to Batista getting annihilated on the radio (you know the season is sunk when you don't even bother with a proxy for MLB.tv), it occurred to me that there isn't a single good, realistic reason for the Mariners to leave Miguel Batista in the rotation.

Not a single one. This isn't like the whole Ibanez/Vidro/AJ thing from a year ago. The Mariners didn't want to throw an unproven rookie into the middle of a pennant race, and Ibanez had been effective and consistent for years, and they wanted to keep as many lefty bats in the lineup as possible, and...whatever. There were reasons, is what I'm saying. There were perfectly legitimate reasons for handling that situation the way it was handled.

But not this one. No sir. When I say there's not a single good reason to leave Batista in the rotation, I mean there's not a single good reason to leave Batista in the rotation. It's every bit as inexplicable as...as batting Jose Vidro cleanup, really. Or for that matter, batting Jose Vidro anywhere. It is, for all intents and purposes, an unjustifiable decision.

What could possibly be the reason? That the Mariners are still trying to win as many games in 2008 as they can? Because Miguel's not helping. In case they haven't noticed, both his ERA and his tRA as a starter this year are over seven. The team is 5-11 in games that he starts. That's bad. Allowing Miguel Batista to remain in the rotation is actively costing this team wins, wins that Riggleman and the executives claim to value.

That the Mariners are playing for the future, and want to get Batista back on track before 2009? The Mariners know what Batista looks like when he's "back on track". He looks like Miguel Batista a year ago, a guy who can give you a high-4's/low-5's ERA and a bunch of 5/6 inning starts. What they don't know is what Dickey, RRS, or Morrow could provide in the same role. And finding that out is of far greater importance for the future of the organization. If the team were playing for the future, they'd put one or two of those guys in the rotation, find out what they have, and use that information to better assess the team's standing come October.

That Batista deserves every last opportunity because he's a veteran who's been around a while? No dice. Burke isn't getting much of an opportunity. Neither is Dickey. Neither did Wilkerson. Sexson got plenty of chances but got dumped during a relative hot streak. The veteran favoritism thing (1) isn't a good reason, and (2) doesn't really hold up when you look at the other decisions this team has made over the months.

That he deserves every last opportunity because of his contract? We've been over this before. It's a sunk cost. What you pay for something becomes of virtual irrelevance as soon as you get it. People have talked about how they don't want to trade Bedard for a lower price than the one we paid, but the price we paid doesn't mean anything anymore. And the same goes for Batista. The money is spent. There's no getting it back. So starting him just because he's due to make many millions of dollars doesn't make any sense.

That he's just trying to work his way through injuries? Funny thing about people who're injured - they don't tend to get better if they keep repeating the thing that got them hurt in the first place. Fixing Batista by letting him pitch would be like healing a wound by slapping a cobra.

That he simply wants to keep starting? Who the fuck cares? Willie's been whining his cracker ass off about playing time for as long as he's been a Mariner and hardly anyone ever pays him attention. Everybody wants to play more. Nobody works his way to the Major Leagues aspiring to be a role player or middle reliever. Everyone wants the glory of being a regular, and just because Batista wants to keep starting doesn't mean you should ignore everyone else who tells you the same thing.

That he's being showcased for a trade? One, showcasing almost never actually takes place. Two, this isn't helping. Showcasing only works in theory when the player you're showcasing isn't a giant pile of crap.

And so on and so forth. I could make up and debunk different possible reasons all night long, but there wouldn't be a point, because the response to every single reason would be some variant of "no, sorry, that's stupid." Every single one of them. Seriously. The only hypothetical good reason I could come up with for leaving Batista in the rotation is that the team is tanking for Strasburg, but as much as I'd like to believe that this is what they're actually doing, there's just a little too much evidence to the contrary. So all we're left with is:

Q: Why is Miguel Batista still in the starting rotation?

A: Because fuck you, that's why.

It's stupid. And it bothers me even more than the fact that Vidro's still on the roster getting regular playing time, because Vidro's gone come autumn and he isn't really blocking anyone important, whereas Miguel Batista being in the rotation directly prevents the team from finding out whether or not it already has a cheap, effective #5 starter on its hands for 2009. Considering the only purpose of the games at this point is to answer questions about the future, leaving Batista in the rotation just flies in the face of everything the team's supposed to be trying to do.

Make the official switch already, Jim. This has been going on long enough. It's time to let Dickey or RRS' dreams come true for a change.

It's the right thing to do.

Biggest Contribution: Jose Vidro, +9.6%
Biggest Suckfest: Miguel Batista, -44.8%
Most Important AB: Betancourt DP, -12.3%
Most Important Pitch: Choo homer, -17.1%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -43.8%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -11.4%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +5.2%
(What is this chart?)

Jim Riggleman had a decision to make.

With his struggling Mariners holding on to a narrow 4-3 lead in the bottom of the ninth, the situation called for the team's closer to come in and attempt to slam the door on its opponent. But for as terrific as he'd been for much of the season, lately Brandon Morrow had found himself in a rut, allowing three home runs over two consecutive blown saves, the most recent coming just the day before. The hard times were uncharacteristic, and they had done a number on Morrow's previously blossoming confidence.

And so Riggleman was faced with his decision. Try to squeeze a save out of somebody else, or allow Morrow to return to the scene of yesterday's crime in an effort to restore his shattered aplomb?

Riggleman never had any doubts.

For many, his choice was reminiscent of Terry Francona's controversial decision to bring Pedro Martinez into Game 7 of the 2004 ALCS. With the Yankees trailing 7-1 and the stadium completely silent, Martinez's insertion - intended to let him conquer his demons - brought the crowd to life, as chants of "Who's your daddy?" rained down from the upper deck and inspired a late Yankee charge. The rally ultimately fell short, but even during Boston's postgame celebration, many wondered why on earth Francona would dare set a spark to such ignitable tinder.

The conditions were similar for Riggleman, who knew that bringing Morrow into the game would be setting him up for either successful redemption or spectacular failure. There was no in-between. Morrow would jog in with the Kauffman crowd in a frenzy and leave either the hammer or the nail, a new man or a beaten one. This was a decision upon which people would reflect for weeks, if not months, and no one better understood the daunting magnitude than the man at the helm. But the more Riggleman thought about it, the more he realized he didn't really have a choice. This was how it had to be. And so it was that Brandon Morrow shed his jacket and entered the game, armed only with a fastball and the knowledge that the next five minutes were to be the most trying five minutes of his life.

Eager and anxious, Riggleman watched on from the dugout as Morrow made quick work of John Buck for the second out of the inning. The strikeout left David DeJesus as the only thing standing between Morrow and the high of all highs or the low of all lows. David DeJesus, the very batter who not 24 hours before had been the agent by which Morrow's psyche was delivered an unthinkable blow. On the heels of such dramatic buildup, time seemed to stop in anticipation of a breathtaking climax.

A ball. A strike. A strike. A ball. The battle raged on until, on the eighth pitch, DeJesus lifted a fly ball to deep left-center that Raul Ibanez flagged down by the track. The game was complete, and Morrow exhaled a champion, having vanquished his foe on the grandest of stages. Gone were the memories of tragedy and heartbreak. His confidence soaring, no more shall Morrow concern himself with thoughts of inadequacy. For Brandon Morrow had earned this save by getting DeJesus to hit a fly ball like ten feet shorter than he had the previous afternoon. And if that's not domination, I don't know what is.

Biggest Contribution: Jeff Clement, +24.1%
Biggest Suckfest: Yuniesky Betancourt, -18.6%
Most Important AB: Clement homer, +37.5%
Most Important Pitch: Aviles single, -13.0%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): +28.7%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -34.7%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +56.0%
(What is this chart?)

If Carlos Silva could face the Royals 30 times a year, he might not be so epically untradeable.

Of all the various seasons-in-a-nutshell we've had to endure over these first three and a half months, losing a game to Horacio Ramirez is the nutshelliest of them all.

Biggest Contribution: Jeremy Reed, +20.6%
Biggest Suckfest: Brandon Morrow, -79.7%
Most Important AB: Reed double, +21.7%
Most Important Pitch: DeJesus homer, -90.3%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -52.8%
Total Contribution by Lineup: +2.8%
Total Contribution by Opposition: 0.0%
(What is this chart?)

Okay, yeah, so we just lost to the Royals on Felix Day. That in and of itself is a point of disgrace. But you know what? I'm having trouble trying to care, because as embarrassing as it was on paper to lose this game, Felix is back, and let me tell you - that was the longest two and a half weeks of the season. This team is just godawful to watch in his absence. I guess Mariner fandom without Felix is fandom of which I'm not prepared to be a part.

This isn't hyperbole, either; with Felix on the DL, it was a chore to come home every day and boot up MLB.tv. There was just so little reason to bother, and it was all I could do to pay attention for more than a few batters at a time. But with Felix back, the whole sense of baseball as entertainment returned as well, and for the first time in weeks I kept myself glued with more than just passing interest. This wasn't a game I felt obligated to watch - this was a game I wanted to watch, and if you're someone who ever checks out the game threads, I think it's pretty clear that the community felt the same way. This was Felix. No matter the circumstances, Felix is always worthy of commanding your attention.

What is it about Felix that's so captivating, anyway? It's not the likelihood of a Mariner win, because there are games this team wins that literally make people upset. Given the whole idea behind the Strasburg Sweepstakes, it seems like wins are often the furthest thing from anyone's mind. So it's an interesting question. Gun to my head, I'd guess it's derived from the thrill of watching someone who at any point in time is capable of leaving his opponent outright embarrassed. This is the highest level of baseball in the world, and to think that there are a select few people out there who can make one of the 750 best players on the planet look like he's never played before in his life...those people are a treat to watch, and we've been granted the privilege of having one of our own. Watching Felix isn't about watching the Mariners come away victorious. It's about watching a guy do things with swagger and ease that others can barely imagine.

I could be wrong. It's a late night at the end of a long week, and I'd be lying if I said I've given this a lot of thought. But whatever the reason may be behind Felix's appeal, everyone's aware of it, and it carries sufficient weight to make every Felix Day feel just a little bit special. And that's something I couldn't stand to be without.

Welcome back, Felix. We missed you. More than you could ever know.

Biggest Contribution: Cesar Jimenez, +3.7%
Biggest Suckfest: Raul Ibanez, -11.4%
Most Important AB: Betancourt single, +6.5%
Most Important Pitch: DeJesus double, -16.4%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -2.9%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -47.1%
Total Contribution by Opposition: 0.0%
(What is this chart?)

What's truly incredible is the extent to which Felix was back back despite his extended rest. Now, of course, I will issue the necessary qualifier that this was only the Royals (just as one could issue the qualifier for Hochevar that this was only the Mariners), but for four innings, you'd have been hard-pressed to find a more dominant appearance by the King. His numbers for those first four frames:

5 groundballs
1 fly ball
1 line drive
6 strikeouts
0 walks
69% strikes (37/54)
8 swinging strikes

He had that lethal combination of fastball command and biting slider, and when Felix is in that sort of groove, hitters just don't stand a chance. My particular favorite pitch was a 96mph 2-2 sinker he threw down and in to Mark Teahen in the fourth, a pitch located so perfectly that it didn't even need its sharp late break. The movement was just gravy.

For four innings, Felix was just mowing his way through a lineup that was five-ninths left-handed. He made but a single mistake - hanging an inside changeup to Mike Aviles that got lined for a double - and everything else was thrown with both good intent and good execution. No one could register a single complaint about how Felix was working; all we could do was sit back and enjoy the show, and enjoy it we did. This was an extended glimpse Felix at his peak. Matter of fact, we've been seeing those glimpses more and more often. But anyway.

The fifth inning sucked, though. Incapable of scoring so much as a single run to that point against Luke Hochevar, the offense was already making us nervous about Felix's chances for a win when he decided to start making things interesting. Looking back, Grudzielanek's leadoff fly out should've tipped us off that something was up. Felix disposed of Alex Gordon rather easily, but with two outs and none on, he went ahead and got himself into trouble by hanging a change to Ross Gload and then walking John Buck in a plate appearance in which all four balls might've missed the zone by a combined six inches.

With two on, you'd have thought that Joey Gathright would provide a reprieve, but instead he got a first pitch thigh-high fastball that he lined back up the middle to plate the game's first run. David DeJesus then came up and drilled maybe the loudest foul ball Felix has allowed in his career. On the one hand, a foul home run is nothing but a foul ball, but on the other, it's not really indicative of a skill on the pitcher's part to keep a bomb just to the side of the pole, and those things always serve to make me nervous. It's like when an opponent hits the goalpost in hockey. Sure, it doesn't count for anything, but it also means that your goalie got beat, and that's a terrifying situation.

Perhaps flustered, Felix then uncorked a massively wild pitch to the backstop, and after several more phases of the battle he left a slider out over the plate that DeJesus punished in Ichiro's direction. The ball might've been catchable, but Ichiro broke in before realizing that the ball had more carry than he thought, and by the time he doubled back it was too late to make a play. DeJesus' double widened the lead by another two, and at that point I don't think anyone had any confidence in the Mariner lineup to stage a comeback.

That was just a bad pitch. In fact, Felix only really made two bad pitches all game, but they both wound up going for doubles. What's interesting is that the pitches Aviles and DeJesus hit were unusual pitches for the situation. Aviles hit a 1-0 changeup - weird for a righty to throw to a righty - and DeJesus hit a 1-2 slider - weird for a righty to throw to a lefty. Don't get me wrong, Felix is pretty good about burying his slider against lefties to serve as a strikeout pitch, but the one he threw DeJesus was too far out and too far elevated, with predictable results. If that pitch is another six inches down and in, it's a whole different ballgame, but instead Felix wound up paying dearly for his mistake. While Ichiro should've made a better play on the ball, Felix should've made a better pitch.

Felix would retire Aviles to end the inning, but the damage was done, and so was his start - despite Felix's objections, Riggleman yanked him at 83 pitches, not wanting to put too much stress on his body on the heels of a trip to the DL. In all, it was a hell of a return, but I'm sure all Felix can think about right now is how he should've had a better fifth. That's how pitchers work. They're conditioned from a young age to have a longer memory for mistakes than for successes, and for as many excellent pitches as Felix threw tonight, the ones that'll stick are the ones that he regrets. For better or for worse.

It's worth noting that the fifth inning may have been the result of fatigue on Felix's part, as he hadn't had a full start since June 17th. The rule of thumb is that tired Felix starts to elevate the ball, and if you look at the PITCHf/x data, his average fastball came in at a height of 2.3 feet through innings 1-4 and 3.0 feet in #5. That's a pretty significant difference. I don't know how much it means, but I would be more comforted to know that, instead of just having a bad inning, Felix was tired. Bad innings are bad innings. Stamina can be developed, especially when you've lost a fair bit due to injury. It'll be interesting to look for when/if he starts to elevate the ball over his next few starts to see if he's building his arm strength back up to where it was a month ago.

Anyway, once Felix came out, my level of interest sank through the floor. The Mariners scored a run, but they didn't score three, meaning that Felix wound up on the hook for the loss, dropping his record to 6-6 despite a sub-3 ERA. I don't care about these things, but Felix does, so I can't just blow them off. This is a man who just wants to win, and it has to be more than a little demoralizing to know that you pitched that well and still earned yourself a loss to the Royals by making two or three mistakes.

But the important thing is, he's back. He's back, and for four innings, he looked outstanding.

It's something to build on.

Much like Brandon Morrow, I think I'll take today off.

Biggest Contribution: RA Dickey, +33.6%
Biggest Suckfest: Brandon Morrow, -47.0%
Most Important AB: Lopez DP, -14.2%
Most Important Pitch: Suzuki homer, -48.8%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): -4.7%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -48.8%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +3.5%
(What is this chart?)

I'm working on another, far more interesting post than could ever be written about this game, so all I'll say is that I blame the 83 pitches RRS threw on Sunday for his lackluster relief effort. Nice going, Miguel. Can't you do anything right?

That Jose Lopez kid is okay.

Biggest Contribution: Jose Lopez, +23.3%
Biggest Suckfest: RRS, -22.4% :(
Most Important AB: Lopez double, +25.1%
Most Important Pitch: Murphy double, -21.4%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): +23.2%
Total Contribution by Lineup: +26.8%
Total Contribution by Opposition: 0.0%
(What is this chart?)

Oftentimes people will ask me if it's possible to have a game in which not a single Mariner player makes a positive WPA contribution. The answer? Indeed it is. And such a game would look an awful lot like tonight's.

This one didn't quite fit the bill - Carlos Silva managed to spare us the indignity. But it was close. In fact, all Silva would've had to do is allow Carlos Gonzalez to take him yard in the first inning, and we would've been set. No Mariner would've finished in the black, and Miguel Cairo would've made the biggest contribution with something negative (since his 6th inning single would have made less of an impact). So, yeah. That's how pathetic this was. Justin Duchscherer is due for some staggering regression, but it just isn't going to come against a lineup this terrible. Statistical inevitability has nothing on the awesome power of bad. That Jose Vidro has now batted cleanup in eight different games is a fact due to which I will forever blame 2008 for raping me of my innocence.

Biggest Contribution: Carlos Silva, +6.6%
Biggest Suckfest: Ichiro, -14.1%
Most Important AB: Suzuki error, +6.3%
Most Important Pitch: Brown single, -8.5%
Total Contribution by Pitcher(s): +6.6%
Total Contribution by Lineup: -65.4%
Total Contribution by Opposition: +8.8%
(What is this chart?)

No bullet points tonight. It's not even possible. The game only lasted 109 minutes and not a single damn thing ever happened. So instead I will direct you to an official Pravda article with quite possibly the most confusing headline I've ever seen. Every other Friday Jim Street must just laugh his way to the bank.

Miguel Batista makes his long-awaited return to the rotation tomorrow night. I hope you enjoyed being finished by nine this time, because soon enough it will be little more than a distant memory.