Lookout Landing - It is time to be sadMariners baseball support group meets here, Tuesdays and all the other days too.https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/community_logos/50775/ll-fav.png2016-06-23T15:35:19-07:00http://www.lookoutlanding.com/rss/stream/125185812016-06-23T15:35:19-07:002016-06-23T15:35:19-07:00A Brief History of Stupidity
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<img alt="Seattle Mariners v Detroit Tigers" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/ljqptpICP9tkW-CpkRSobEbTg9U=/0x80:3119x2159/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/49940079/542608924.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>grim reluctance and acceptance of fate (oil on canvas, 2016) | Photo by Duane Burleson/Getty Images</figcaption>
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<p>Boondoggles and Broken Hearts</p> <p id="Q6MScx">Baseball is wonderful. And sometimes it is very, very stupid. It is a gumball machine that can offer a diamond ring or one of those fingertrap things that eventually get so stuck you have to cut it off and the cheap dye leaches onto your fingers and you go around for days with a purple index finger. Today’s game was especially, epically stupid. Let us examine the ways and try to place them in their proper historical context.</p>
<h5 id="ZxQ6BQ">Before the game even freaking starts:</h5>
<p id="Fc1uOo">Adrian Sampson throws four warm-up tosses and on the last one, feels a twinge in his elbow. He summons Iannetta, who summons Servais, who summons the trainer, who shuts Sampson down for the day. Or possibly the year. Who knows.</p>
<p id="JpEjyd"><strong>Historical Parallel:</strong></p>
<p id="kF56EC">Do you remember the movie <em><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1305591/">Mars Needs Moms</a></em>? Of course you don’t. The 2011 Disney film had a 150 million dollar budget and didn’t even clear 40 million. I have never met anyone who has actually seen this movie. Adrian Sampson didn’t cost the Mariners big money, but his stat line for today is every bit as empty as the movie theatres across the country were for the debut of this clunker. If you watch the re-broadcast of this game (you should not do that), listen to the sound Blowers makes when he sees the trainers come out and Sampson grabs his surgically repaired elbow. It is a sound of exquisite pain coupled with existential dread. I might record it and call it the Song of the Mariners.</p>
<h5 id="yruVWa">Throughout the game:</h5>
<p id="PnOja8">I hate to be a broken record but the strike zone across MLB this year appears to range from “strikes are an abstract and highly personal concept” to “who knows the name of the wind?” to “full-on-bananapants.” Today’s strike zone was the third: </p>
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<p lang="en" dir="ltr">I mean, I don't know how <a href="https://twitter.com/MLB">@MLB</a> finds this being normal acceptable. (Some mine some saved from <a href="https://twitter.com/1nceagain2zelda">@1nceagain2zelda</a>) <a href="https://t.co/yyw7ZTkNT1">pic.twitter.com/yyw7ZTkNT1</a></p>— Brett Miller (@BrettMillerWCB) <a href="https://twitter.com/BrettMillerWCB/status/746041993164267522">June 23, 2016</a>
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<p id="gmL6En">And it didn’t stop there. I thought about uploading the various screen grabs/Mariners Ump tweets but you don’t need to be subjected to that. The only good part of this was we got to see Chirpy Scott Servais, who let home plate ump Andy Fletcher hear about his displeasure. This is not to excuse the Mariners hitters, who were not good against a weak Tigers bullpen. But it’s undeniable that those calls changed the shape of the game, and maybe even the outcome; here’s Cruz’s at-bat in the 8th:</p>
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<p lang="en" dir="ltr">there is only so much you can do with this <a href="https://t.co/6eUsElzacI">pic.twitter.com/6eUsElzacI</a></p>— In Play, (Kate) (@1nceagain2zelda) <a href="https://twitter.com/1nceagain2zelda/status/746087283657347072">June 23, 2016</a>
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<p id="JsmMZb">“All balls,” you could hear Nellie saying on the broadcast. Yes indeed. </p>
<p id="yVHfct"><strong>Historical Parallel: </strong></p>
<p id="6y6Jhe">Speaking of people who are bad at their jobs, Benjamin Butler was a Civil War general for the Union forces in charge of New Orleans who stole silver spoons out of Southern households. He was so detested by Southern women that they dumped chamber pots on his head, to which he responded by passing an order that any woman saying bad things about Union Soldiers would be regarded as a prostitute. Way to go, Blue.</p>
<h5 id="CRmHxN">4th Inning:</h5>
<p id="G4hGhp">Vidal Nuño had been doing everything he could to try to gut through this interminable, uninventive children’s puppet show of a game and had only surrendered two runs despite throwing approximately three times the number of pitches he’d expected to throw today. (MiMo was unavailable due to throwing 39 pitches yesterday, remember, leaving Nuño the only real option for multi-inning work.) Cruz had hammered a solo homer earlier in the inning—would have been nice to have Robi on base for that to tie it, but he’d been called out on some incredibly suspect calls, obvs—so Nuño was only working with a one-run deficit at the time when he decided to throw the Lesser McCann an 83 mph slider in the zone, which was promptly crushed for a two-run dinger. In came Edwin Diaz, who walked the first batter he saw, even though said batter was Jerrod Saltalamacchia. Maybe Diaz has a fear of multiple consonants? He managed to get a swinging strikeout from Romine before Kinsler and Iglesias both reached on base hits, which brought up Miguel Cabrera, a .381 lifetime hitter with the bases loaded. This could have gone very, very badly. Instead, Diaz decided to show us a little flash of the dominant reliever he will one day be, sending Harry Potter owls zooming all around the zone that Miggy couldn’t do anything with before freezing the big man with an 86 mph slider. </p>
<p id="D4MoSj">The Mariners would come back in the top of the fifth with two back-to-back home runs off the bats of Chris Iannetta and Leonys Martin, because of course. Then Shawn O’Malley worked one of the finest plate appearances by a Mariner this season and mad-dogged his way through a nine-pitch AB before he crushed a double off Tigers starter Daniel Norris. Marte moved O’Malley along with a ground out and then Gutierrez would hit an infield single because, why not, and then Canó stepped in with two outs and two on and Aaron Goldsmith, for some reason, decided to say, “we saw the Tigers have their best hitter at the plate strike out with Cabrera, and now Canó, the Mariners’ best hitter is up” and well you kind of know the rest, right? Shipwrecked on the laughter of the baseball gods. Canó sent a ball deep to left field and at the very last minute Justin Upton jumped up and grabbed it and came down grinning like that nursery rhyme kid, like little Jack Horner playing left field corner. Cruz would hit another home run in the sixth to tie it, but the rally dying here would come back to haunt the Mariners.</p>
<p id="79KHk1"><strong>Historical Parallel: </strong></p>
<p id="WpAMJ4">Not really historical, but the Alice Cooper song Cold Ethyl is about a girl who’s so cool, yeah, she can squeeze you in her arms and freeze you with her charms</p>
<div id="hDEva0"><div><div style="left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 0px; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.2493%;"><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vKvPGwhgnvw?wmode=transparent&rel=0&autohide=1&showinfo=0&enablejsapi=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="true" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" style="top: 0px; left: 0px; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute;"></iframe></div></div></div>
<p id="AjlMgD">What makes her so cool? Well, she’s dead. As is my heart, after watching this game.</p>
<h5 id="fAxCH8">The End of the Game:</h5>
<p id="06baHm">Nick Vincent worked a scoreless bottom of the seventh against the heart of the Tigers’ order, getting Cabrera to fly out, Castellanos to ground out after an eight-pitch battle, and then giving up a walk to Upton on again, surprise, some questionable calls—although Vincent missed badly with the fourth ball and did a little crow-hop of disappointment off the mound. Upton would proceed to steal second—“huge jump, no chance” was Blowers’s glum assessment—but Vincent managed to punch out Moya to end the inning. The Mariners, for their part, also worked a scoreless eighth, thanks in part to the Cruz at-bat pointed out above. I thought Servais might get run in this inning as he voiced much anger before reverting to his general “dad waiting angrily in crowded lobby of Cheesecake Factory” stance (<em>this is ridiculous!</em>). Benoit came on in the eighth and looked relatively pissed for someone whose countenance is usually fairly placid and Aslan-like. Benoit hates wasting pitches, as the pile of quarters in the change drawer known as his right arm dwindles ever-smaller. But he got through it, and the Mariners failed to score, and then Cishek got through his inning, and again the Mariners failed to score despite having Shawn O’Malley standing on third base with one out. It’s better we don’t delve too deeply into this. And even better that we don’t delve into how the Tigers eventually won the game in the bottom of the tenth, but it might rhyme with “gawk-off viled mitch.” The worst part was, we sort of knew the Mariners would lose this game, but then it seemed like they might not but probably still would, and then they found a way to lose it that was even more soul-crushing than you might have imagined (this also might rhyme with “Pile Bleager Hairor”).</p>
<p id="dag7Vy"><strong>Historical Parallel:</strong></p>
<p id="og2SOQ">I thought about throwing the Titanic in here, or the <em><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MV_Wilhelm_Gustloff">Wilhelm Gustloff</a></em>, or the Hindenberg, or some other human artifact laying waste to hope and humanity, but I think I might go with something quieter: Kate Chopin’s 1894 text “<a href="http://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/webtexts/hour/">The Story of an Hour</a>.” In this story, Mrs. Mallard, a supposed invalid, is told—very gently—of the death of her husband in a railroad disaster. To no one’s surprise, her reaction is to sob, loudly and without reprieve, as she sits alone in her room. Suddenly she notices a new feeling taking hold of her: </p>
<blockquote id="irQah8"><p>When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. </p></blockquote>
<p id="Fs7Vf5">Mrs. Mallard sees her life stretching before her, free and open and of her own determination at last. “It was only yesterday that she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.” Free and open and unencumbered—what a way to live.</p>
<p id="MyE3Q7">Then the door opens, and it’s her husband, very much alive. </p>
<p id="Yhoq7T">The Mariners stand at the door, hat in hand, bemused by our wild eyes, as the trap of affection and nostalgia and all the other reasons we love this dumb team snaps shut once again.</p>
<p id="5C1tI6">*</p>
<p id="UJyvro">A brief sidenote on a not-stupid thing:</p>
<p id="etO7o9">I lived in Philadelphia for eight years before recently moving back to the city I was born in, the city that knows me best, the city that has always been my home. It’s hard to put into words the feeling of being back where you belong, the way it slides a weight off your bones you didn’t even know you carried. Today Tom Wilhelmsen pitched a scoreless sixth inning wearing the name of his city, his avowed home, across his chest. The thing they don’t tell you: sometimes, if you’re very lucky and you face a fair amount of trial to get there, you can go home again. Welcome back, Bartender.</p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2016/6/23/12019000/a-brief-history-of-stupidityKate Preusser2015-06-19T03:25:20-07:002015-06-19T03:25:20-07:00Mariners lose 7-0, don't answer the phone
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<img alt="There's no one thing that's true. It's all true." src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/8MR89P8NOR1eZAbHMEvX5QGnDZE=/0x0:3744x2496/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/46570812/usa-today-8659881.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>There's no one thing that's true. It's all true. | Joe Nicholson-USA TODAY Sports</figcaption>
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<p>Listen to the voicemail. I beg you.</p> <p>It was quiet, painfully so, in the clubhouse. They had all gone home. The remnants laid there though, the proof that the game had happened. Sure, there was the tape which had held Nelson's wrist tightly, the half-shells of sunflower seeds that had been spit so effortlessly on to the vacuumed floor. The green cups that had held the liquid which was meant to encourage their bodies in the sport they were so well-tuned to perform were littered across the carpet. And there, on the table, as was true every night, laid Willie, in pain and discomfort.</p>
<p>He felt the pains and aches of a decade and a half of constant effort held compact in his knees. Rick knew the spots. There are certain ways of twisting and turning an individual that bring forth the body's memory. A little too left and there was Willie tripping on the sprinkler head during two-a-days in '95. If Rick pushed back hard enough, the 2003 season where he came up lame fielding flies sprang to life. Even now, holding the ankle by one hand and the knee by the other, Rick could summon every memory of the past summer. The body never forgets.</p>
<p>Willie grimaced at this movement especially. It was a dance that he and Rick played, every night when the lights of the stadium had been turned off for some time and all that was left was the clean, crisp halogens of the training room. The whirlpool hummed in the far corner of the room, providing a back track to their silent conversations. Rick saw the pain in Willie's face, and in return, gave him a familiar smile. It was the smile that Willie knew best. There were fewer grounders left in those knees then there had ever been before.</p>
<p>All of a sudden, a loud ringing of a telephone cut through the quiet of the empty training room. Willie and Rick quickly recognized the abrupt cacophony with a turning of their heads. Instinctively, Willie sat up to answer, but Rick calmly placed a hand on his chest, letting him know it was not his burden.</p>
<p>"You know, Rick, I don't think I ever noticed that phone there before," Willie said with a small smile of wonderment, "Who is it it for?"</p>
<p>Rick sat back for a moment, easing his weight off of Willie's leg, " I couldn't rightfully tell you, Bloomy, but it's been here since I can remember."</p>
<p>And so it was. Nothing much to look at. A common, black, corded phone plugged in to the wall near the whirlpool. It was so obscured by darkness, so unimpressive, that it had never crossed Willie's mind in the hundreds of times he had entered that training room to take note of it. Yet, here it was, ringing one time after a 7-0 loss to the <a href="https://www.mccoveychronicles.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">San Francisco Giants</a>. Willie, now laying back on the table to finish his treatment, wondered under what other circumstances that phone had rang, and who had called it. He certainly did not know the number. And who would be there typically to answer it.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Rick had been gone for nearly an hour now. Willie had finished his shower, had changed in to the clothes he would wear home to see his family in, for the little time they would see him, but the ringing still gnawed at his psyche. If it was as longstanding as Rick had claimed, there could be almost two-decades worth of messages from times long-gone there. Hell, even some of his own past would be tied up in the message machine. He couldn't resist the urge to check the red-flashing light on the monitor. He walked to the black phone stationed in the darkest corner of the room. He pressed play.</p>
<p><i>You have eighty-nine unheard messages. First unheard message.</i></p>
<p><i>-Hey boys, it's Dave. Rick and I just wanted to let you all know how proud we are watching you beat those <a href="https://www.southsidesox.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">White Sox</a>. It's been a damn, long time since I've cried and today, when Carlos laid down that bunt I just couldn't help it. There are certain mome-</i></p>
<p>Willie had to stop the record. Despite the obscurity of the room, he was certain there were no ghosts around. He looked over his shoulder nonetheless. Dave's voice had a certain way of creating anachronistic sensations in the body. Willie had felt them many times before. "The Double" was the only thing he had taken the time to learn how to favorite on Firefox. He skipped ahead.</p>
<p><i>-Boys, Dave again, just wanted to say that all of us here couldn't be more proud of you for the one-hundred and sixteen wins. It was a hell of a year from Cammy to Boone to Ichi and the Bone. Bring it home for us, fellas, bring i-</i></p>
<p><i></i>He sat in the quiet, dazed at the magnitude of his finding. Could it be that he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure-trove of well-wishes from the Voice of the Franchise? If so, did he have the fortitude to make it through the remaining seventy-five messages to hear them all. Recalling that level of memory, at the frequency and output would tear him apart, especially after a loss like tonight. Yet, just as always, he pressed forward. There were memories there of the good times and the bad. Some funny, some sad to recall.</p>
<p><i>-Hello, this is a message for <span>Ruben Sierra</span>. This is Dawn, the manager of the Burien Dominoes you just ordered from. Hello Ruben, we have your three extra-large anchovies and onion pizzas for delivery but you did not specify a door and we need you to call security to authorize us through to deliver them to you.</i></p>
<p>This made Willie laugh. As he played through the voicemail from times gone-by, he felt the whole<i> </i>spectrum of his emotion. There were notes that made him wistful of his past, when he was fitter version of himself. There were messages that made him laugh, made him cry, some even made him mad.</p>
<p><i>-This is a call to once again confirm that the cable package for Willy Mo Pena has been discontinued at the address 3435 8th St. Kirkland, WA. As well, there is a surcharge of $8,043.86 for items purchased outside of the cable package that will be assessed to the final bill. This is the final call we, Comcast, will be making on this account. Thank you.</i></p>
<p>Messages like this punctuated ones of serious gravity. There was a voicemail from the old commissioner, congratulating Mr. Suzuki on his record-breaking season. Another for Griffey's inauguration into the Mariner's Hall of Fame. There was one wishing Mr. Wakamatsu, Mr. Hargrove, McLaren, Riggleman, Brown, Melvin, and Wedge the best of luck in their futures. Kyle was given many plaudits for his Golden Glove.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Willie was reaching the end of the messages, and was filled with much grief and joy and confusion. This was the recent history of a franchise that had seen so much sorrow and hurt but had made it through that to smile at the small, subtle things that make us all human. The large scale had been so devastating yet these people had taken pride in the microcosms, the minutia of improvement and optimism. He had two messages left, the last must have been the call from just an hour before. He played the penultimate message.</p>
<p><i>-TRUCKS, TRUCKS AND MORE TRU-</i></p>
<p>He couldn't stand the voice. He skipped message number eighty-eight, and played eighty nine.</p>
<p><i>-Hey guys, it's me. It's us. I was at the game tonight. I got your letter. You tried to explain everything, still, it was hard to watch, tonight. And it's not because of tonight, itself. It's because of what we could have had. What we should have been for </i>so <i>long. It was made more clear, playing the Giants. Here is a team that has accidentally won three <a href="http://www.sbnation.com/world-series" class="sbn-auto-link">World Series</a> in recent memory, while we, all of us in this town, have watched our squad, some better than others, sputter and turn like a half-fixed engine. We haven't felt whole in years. Maybe since two-thousand and two. </i></p>
<p><i>And I know, it's not any of your faults. There's no reason to blame Kyle for his food poisoning or Robbie for his sore back. It won't help us, not now. But, tonight we watched <span>Ryan Vogelsong</span> play our hometown nine like a fiddle. He nibbled and stole and you just watched him. You let him come in our home and take everything we owned. Like it was nothing, man. I think that's how we all feel, like nothing.</i></p>
<p><i>And it's because we have something. Or had it, maybe. Like, last year, things were </i>so <i>good. We had the right players in the right spots, and even when we didn't it somehow worked out more than it didn't. We had the Night Court and the High Court and games that really mattered for the first time in what feels like forever. It was like we couldn't go wrong. And we were so close. But now you're telling us that something </i>is <i>wrong and we don't know what. And it breaks me. It breaks us all because we want it to work so bad. We've been so straight with you; so honest that you could see our hearts bleed out. And yet, here we are, a horizon away from first place and even further from feeling like this is the season we all talked about. It seemed like you were going to try to make this work.</i></p>
<p><i>That's what we talked about when Felix left the mound with tears in his eyes. We told you we would do anything to make it work and you said you would, too. You brought in Nelson to help us, and Seth and Wellington for a bit. We had to try new things because it wasn't what you told us it would be. Now we have Mike on the mound, and he's trying so hard for us but, damn, it's hard to feel like it matters anymore. It doesn't feel honest. But, for me, it's never been worse than tonight. You made me feel so disposable. I was nothing to you. 7-0 to Ryan Vogelsong and the Giants. Like you weren't even there. Like you never thought about me.</i></p>
<p><i>But I'm here with your letter you wrote me. The one addressed to all of us. You said, " Thanks for making me feel loved and cared for and beautiful." I'm so happy you realized that's how I feel about you. But, soon, you need to show me the same. Because, we're strong, but we can't just give and give and give and not receive. It kills us. And tonight, in front of everyone, you showed like you didn't care. And I love you way too much for that to be alright...</i></p>
<p>Willie stopped listening. He couldn't bear the weight of the truth he had faced on so many sleepless nights. He felt a nervous energy despite the late hour and exhausted feeling in his tendons. There was work to be done, yet, and he knew his team was more than capable. The <a href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Seattle Mariners</a> were not done, yet. That was his only hope. Any other thought would ruin him. But the record wasn't done playing...</p>
<p><i>-Because, I've been loving you way too long, now. I can't stop now. </i></p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2015/6/19/8811277/mariners-lose-7-0-dont-answer-the-phoneDavid Skiba2015-06-14T22:47:39-07:002015-06-14T22:47:39-07:00At a crossroads, the Mariners lose to Astros, 13-0
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<img alt="" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/3fafdQkPMJD6kPvtUiv7NLYskDE=/0x177:1417x1122/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/46536988/usa-today-8610677.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>Troy Taormina-USA TODAY Sports</figcaption>
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<p>It is 1 AM on the morning of September 19th, 2012. I am watching my television inside a stuffy studio apartment, six feet away from a bed that holds my fiancee, asleep and cradling a pillow around her head as if there is a jackhammer singing in the corner of the room. I do not know why I am doing this. Perhaps it is because I want to see what it looks like when Angie Mentink finally falls asleep mid broadcast. Perhaps I just enjoy the sensation of detached disappointment on my skin, like touching a tepid burner left on 3 after the tea has whistled itself away. Perhaps it is both and yet neither at the same time. I do not know. I am watching nonetheless.</p>
<p>Two hours earlier, <span>Erasmo Ramirez</span> was inches away from the first complete game of his career and now I am looking at <span>Miguel Olivo</span> striking out on five pitches against <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.camdenchat.com/">Orioles</a> closer <span>Jim Johnson</span>, and the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/">Mariners</a> have lost. It is the eighteenth inning. The Orioles haven't made the playoffs in 15 years. I think to myself <i>I can't wait to see what Jeff has to say about all this</i> before I turn my television off and crack another beer.</p>
<p>In a few weeks I will watch <span>Joe Saunders</span> beat the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.lonestarball.com/">Texas Rangers</a> in the American League Wild Card game, and as <span>Josh Hamilton</span> misplays a ball in Left Field he is booed, booed mercilessly and I laugh at it and think <i>what an idiot </i>and then the announcers start talking about his future in Texas, and I think about the Rangers, and I order another drink<i>.</i> I am wearing a Mariners hat and the bartender rolls his eyes at me, and although he doesn't think I notice I do. I finish it, though.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>It is August 8th, 1997. I am ten years old and I am listening to a concrete bubble shake as the word Ed-Gar bounces off the grey facade to break apart into multiple syllables, up to the top row and down from the bottom in a cacophony of noise that eventually starts to blend together into unintelligiblity. I am wearing a hat that says NY, and while I am old enough to know that is the team from all the movies and TV commercials, I am yet transfixed as I watch someone wearing the number 24 in blue hit a ball deep into centerfield off the hand of <span>Nelson Cruz</span>, pitching for the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.southsidesox.com/">Chicago White Sox</a>. It leaves the fence.</p>
<p>I have not seen 1995. I have not even heard of this Kid. I live in Portland, Oregon, and my parents have driven me up to Seattle Washington and purchased three pieces of thin paper from a scalper outside the walls of the Kingdome. One month later I will watch as the Seattle Mariners lose to the Baltimore Orioles in game four of the ALDS. I do not think that it is amazing, just <i>absolutely magnificent </i>that they are playing baseball in October. No, I cry, because I'm a stupid, privileged, ten year old kid who has never experienced true loss or pain in his entire life. I am stupid.</p>
<p>Maybe.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>It is September 28th, 2014. I have recently moved to the East Coast, and am all alone with my wife in an empty house, surrounded by boxes and plates wrapped in newspaper as I watch <span>Felix Hernandez</span> step off the mound on my desktop computer, the only thing up and running inside the home we will occupy for the next six years. I am wearing a northwest green Mariners jersey over a blue hoodie despite the fact that it is ninety-something degrees outside, and I am standing just outside my office as I see the King tip his hat to 38,000 applauding fans and I do not cry, I do not bite my bottom lip and feel my eyes well up because I'm 27 years old goddammit, and not ten anymore for fuck's sake.</p>
<p>I do walk out of the room and wipe my face off when my wife comes around the corner.</p>
<p>I am stupid.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>I am watching Jack Zduriencik hear that <span>Prince Fielder</span> has agreed to a nine-year, $214-million dollar deal with the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.blessyouboys.com/">Detroit Tigers</a>.</p>
<p>I am watching a press conference where Josh Hamilton puts on a red jersey in Los Angeles.</p>
<p>I see Cliff Lee fly away and I go to baseball games and watch <span>Robert Andino</span>, <span>Trayvon Robinson</span>, <span>Eric Thames</span>, <span>Blake Beavan</span>, José Vidro, and Richie Sexson play wearing the letter S on top of their heads.</p>
<p>I am standing outside my boss' door, and I read on my phone that the Seattle Mariners have traded <span>John Jaso</span> to the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.athleticsnation.com/">Oakland Athletics</a> in a three-team trade that nets <span>Michael Morse</span>, and I nearly break the glass in frustration.</p>
<p>I'm on the bus and I see a tweet from @lookoutlanding that says "wait what," and then I find out that the Seattle Mariners have traded <span>Ichiro Suzuki</span> to the third base dugout, and I immediately drive three hours north to watch him bow to the crowd wearing a grey uniform emblazoned with the words <i>New York</i>.</p>
<p>I watch and watch and don't stop watching for some stupid reason. I watch as Felix gives up six runs in the first inning and departs after a single out. I watch as the Mariners lose seven straight and watch as they right the ship with a walk-off home run from a soon-to-be-All-Star third baseman. I watch as a closer walks in a run to a stadium filled with fans wearing matching black shirts.</p>
<p>I watch when I dream that maybe someday I would be able to write words on the internet about my favorite baseball team, and I watch after that reality comes to fruition and I want nothing more than to unplug my television from the wall and throw it out the window where it will perfectly land in my garbage receptacle waiting on the sidewalk to be picked up during the morning waste service.</p>
<p>But ultimately, I watch as the Seattle Mariners visit what was once the worst team in all of baseball, and I watch as they promptly give up three runs in the first, two in the third, five in the fourth, one in the fifth, one in the sixth, and one more in the eighth.</p>
<p>I watch as the Seattle Mariners are no-hit into the sixth inning and I watch as a lineup walks up to the batters box and unhooks their veins from their wrists and lets the blood just spool out, out into the dirt and back into the away dugout where it infects everyone waiting to hit like there was some virus infecting those blue uniforms like the red-shirted-guys in those old Star Trek episodes.</p>
<p>I watch as the Seattle Mariners play--unequivocally--the worst game I can <b><i>ever</i></b> remember them playing, and for some reason I keep watching as <span>Kyle Seager</span> fouls off four pitches in the ninth inning, down <i>thirteen</i>, because I've spent eighteen years of my life watching this godforsaken team, and you have too, and why the fuck would it end before it needs to?</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>It is June 2015 and the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.crawfishboxes.com/">Houston Astros</a> have called up prospect after prospect, and I watch as <span>Dustin Ackley</span> dances on a tightrope between the waiver pit and desperation, followed closely by any number of bottles of moldy sand you can imagine. I watch as the Mariners just may end their 2015 season, knowing full well there are 98 games left to decide what happens next, but knowing just as well that I've watched thousands upon thousands that give us the same damn result every time.</p>
<p>It is June 2015 and I am so tired of writing these, and I have no idea what is going to happen after I go to bed in a few minutes.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>It is April, 1946, and Joe Jackson is sweeping the floors of his liquor store in Greenvile, South Carolina. It is still morning, and as the door creaks open just fast enough to jostle the little copper bell hanging on the mid-bar, he looks to see a hunched figure walk in and block out the sun like an eclipse on the Last Day.</p>
<p>But he knows. Realizing he would be seen if he stayed where he was, he quickly tussles his broom into the back corner and digs out a rag so as to pretend to buff out a spot on the glass counter, which will hide him from view while he scuffs an already spotless transparent barricade that only further serves to separate him from what once <i>was</i> to what now <i>is</i>.</p>
<p>The eclipse leaves the rays of the sun through the door, and hovers over his makeshift barrier, blocking out the light he had been using to busy himself through shame.</p>
<p><i>Don't you remember me?</i> the eclipse says. <i>Don't you remember me?</i></p>
<p>He drops his rag, the facade exposed. One hand up to the forehead, bristling with sweat. Back over, and across the top of the head, slowly balding. He never learned how to read.</p>
<p><i>Sure I do. </i>He says. <i>I just didn't think you would want to remember me</i>, he says, returning to his wet rag.</p>
<p>The two men will die ten years apart, in 1951 and 1961 respectively. One will adorn the walls of Cooperstown with the blood of human beings etched into his feet, the other still ostracized nearly a century later through hearsay and self-policing insanity for <i>the good of the game.</i> Only one will win a ring.</p>
<p>And even that is a matter of opinion.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>It is September 2015 and I am watching the Seattle Mariners. I am either radiant or hollow, pleased or complacent. I realize this game is a stupid game, an extremely, fucking, goddamned asinine bullshit game, and yet I keep watching. I do not know why.</p>
<p>I will cry again, not when I am ten, not when I am twenty-seven. I will cry because the Mariners have finally won <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="http://www.sbnation.com/world-series">the World Series</a>. I do not know when this will happen.</p>
<p>But it will not happen on Sunday, June 14th as the Seattle Mariners roll over like mice in a snakecage to the Houston Astros. Joe Jackson and Ty Cobb are dead, they have been for fifty-some odd years, but nothing can ever take away the fact that they lived and bled and gave everything they had for this stupid game that we each fell in love with at one point or another in our lives. And yet we watch, we keep watching as if <i>something</i> will change, as if something will ever happen to pull us onto a different road and give us <i>anything</i> tangible to hold onto. As if they will have the chance again to do it <i>right</i> this time, not haunted by the memories of reckless youth or surrendered future.</p>
<p>It is June 2015, and the internet tells us there is a 28-35 record on a 2015 Seattle Mariners season that was supposed to be the best year in franchise history. Someday, that will be true, with this cast of characters or another. But the wonderful thing is that we are smack dab in the middle right now--right there between adolescent wonder and greying twilight nostalgia, between twenty-something exuberance and the cruel pull of aged skin on the wrists of a laborer trying to close out his final days with honor and dignity.</p>
<p>It is June 2015 and we have a long way to go before we are hiding from old friends at the liquor store. It may not feel like it, but it's true.</p>
<p>And still, we keep watching.</p>
<p>We may be stupid. But we do.</p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2015/6/14/8780197/at-a-crossroads-the-mariners-lose-to-astros-13-0Matthias Ellis2015-06-12T22:20:33-07:002015-06-12T22:20:33-07:00Felix looks merely human as Mariners get shelled
<figure>
<img alt="" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/5JFPdzxRnw_Zalh3k9xcgJrMH5o=/0x270:3000x2270/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/46528770/GettyImages-476919346.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>Bob Levey/Getty Images</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Felix Hernandez pitches the worst game of his career OR a pitch-by-pitch analysis of Jesus Sucre's debut as a professional relief pitcher.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is just one fact that fully explains how today’s game went for the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/">Mariners</a>: <span>Felix Hernandez</span> and <span>Jesus Sucre</span> both pitched in the same game. That’s not a typo and it wasn’t the result of a massive outburst by the Mariners offense. No, this was very real and was the product of Felix Hernandez’s worst start of his eleven year career.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At least the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.crawfishboxes.com/">Astros</a> got it over with quickly. Felix recorded the only out of his brief appearance in this game on a strikeout of <span>Carlos Correa</span>, the sixth batter he had faced. By that point in the game, he had allowed two hits, two walks, and three runs. Some questionable defense behind him and by him had contributed to the early deficit but nothing looked out of sorts. With two on and one out, the end of the inning looked like it was in sight, just a double play away. The very next batter, <span>Luis Valbuena</span>, took a 0-1 changeup over the plate and deposited it in the back of the Astros bullpen in right center field. After another hit and another homer, it was goodnight Felix and goodnight Mariners.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now for something completely different.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I present to you, Jesus Sucre, professional relief pitcher:</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre Pitcher" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/p8t4hVBtPyXwCtlojMieWKSpPv4=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786902/CHWQW0OUEAAiQep.0.jpg">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It can be easy to dwell on all of the negativity following a game like this, but life is short, we need more joy in our lives. Therefore, I now present a pitch-by-pitch analysis of Jesus Sucre’s appearance as a relief pitcher.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sucre threw seven pitches in this game, four of them for strikes. He averaged 88 mph on his fastball and reached 90 mph on one of them. Sucre’s average velocity is faster than six professional pitchers; <span>Dan Haren</span>, <span>Chris Young</span>, <span>Shaun Marcum</span>, <span>Jered Weaver</span>, and Mark Buehrle. So let’s dive in. Here are Jesus Sucre’s seven pitches, presented to you, the Lookout Landing community.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 1:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 1" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/GfWqIieficTC9JV5c30fkKaGnkI=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786904/Sucre_Pitch_1.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Fastball<br>Speed: 85 mph<br>Result: Ball</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sucre is obviously pretty nervous here as his first pitch sails on him. This is his first appearance as a major league pitcher and as far as I can tell, he hasn’t ever pitched professionally. You have to assume that Sucre needed to adjust to seeing the plate from a completely different perspective. He probably just wanted the ball to travel in the general direction of the plate, forget location or movement or any thing fancy like that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 2:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 2" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/szld-ktI02ipCb66-SwzzGTn0xU=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786908/Sucre_Pitch_2.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Changeup<br>Speed: 84 mph<br>Result: Called Strike</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now that the first pitch is out of the way, Sucre focused completely on commanding his second pitch and he gets back into the count with a pitch over the heart of the plate. PITCHf/x classified this pitch as a changeup and I’m going to choose to believe that <span>Mike Zunino</span> called for that pitch to keep <span>Marwin Gonzalez</span> off balance. Who would expect a changeup on a 1-0 count from a guy who can gas it up there at 88 mph?!</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 3:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 3" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/8dsd4jGE1zFQEPt9sbWzkf-ylps=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786910/Sucre_Pitch_3.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Fastball<br>Speed: 88 mph<br>Result: Ball</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sucre really brings the heat with this pitch. Unfortunately, it’s just off the plate away. Marwin Gonzalez can’t believe he’s actually facing a backup catcher in a real, live Major League Baseball game. He’s a professional, damn it, above crap like this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 4:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 4" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/25NRe2b03GSuVGW_1UgTo23L4FY=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786912/Sucre_Pitch_4.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Cutter<br>Speed: 87 mph<br>Result: In play, no out</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Surce broke out his secret weapon in a 2-1 count but left his cutter middle, middle and Marwin Gonzalez hammered the pitch into right field. You have to wonder why Sucre would try throwing a cutter in this situation. Gonzalez has seen two wild fastballs and a grooved changeup so I guess Sucre was trying to catch him off guard. He ended up paying the price.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 5:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 5" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/otCyXFdvqjn5vSGYzphcWQ1hqas=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786914/Sucre_Pitch_5.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Cutter<br>Speed: 88 mph<br>Result: Ball</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Apparently Sucre liked how his cutter felt because he went right back to it. At this point, Sucre had found his groove as his velocity had leveled out and his pitches were finding their way around the plate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 6:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 6" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/jIHc4QoQnVnJNmE5p-DdmbxQdmc=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786916/Sucre_Pitch_6.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Cutter<br>Speed: 88 mph<br>Result: In play, out(s)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span>Preston Tucker</span> had accumulated exactly 100 plate appearances in the majors prior to this at bat. In his 101<sup>st</sup> plate appearance, he hit into a ground ball double play off an 88 mph pitch from a backup catcher. We’ve heard so many times that round numbers like this are arbitrary cutoffs in a sport with so many data points. In this instance, something very significant happened to Preston Tucker’s career at this moment: he discovered just how futile the game of baseball can be sometimes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Pitch 7:</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p> <figure class="e-image">
<img alt="Sucre 7" data-mask-text="false" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/dY-tMgjH4GQ70AsZ8DMET6mLF3U=/400x0/filters:no_upscale()/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3786918/Sucre_Pitch_7.0.gif">
</figure>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Type: Fastball<br>Speed: 90 mph;<br>Result: In play, out(s)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus Sucre’s final pitch of the night is also the fastest pitch he’s thrown, ever. You have to be impressed with Sucre’s ability to get stronger the deeper he went into his outing. It’s something that we’ve never seen from him before and it could be a turning point in his development. <span>Jake Marisnick</span>, in his infinite mercy, aggressively swung at the first pitch he saw from an unfamiliar opponent and grounded it to short. Despite giving up a leadoff base hit, Jesus Sucre induced two ground ball outs and got out of the inning unscathed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">***</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Mariners will try break this losing streak in Houston tomorrow at 1:00 pm. <span>Mike Montgomery</span> takes the mound for the first time away from Safeco and the Astros counter with <span>Collin McHugh</span>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Go M’s.</p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2015/6/12/8775271/felix-looks-merely-human-as-mariners-get-shelledJake Mailhot2014-09-18T00:00:41-07:002014-09-18T00:00:41-07:00M's have more errors than hits, lose to LAA 5-0
<figure>
<img alt="Nope." src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/bX9xzXPszQYr1P0cP6wcw9xsHK4=/0x60:4000x2727/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/38826380/455630870.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>Nope. | Jeff Gross</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Seattle's offense/defense squandered a wonderful start by James Paxton as the M's fell 5-0 to the Angels and slipped to two games back in the wild card race.</p> <p>For the <a href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Mariners</a>, tonight's game included:</p>
<ul>
<li>No runs.</li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>One hit.</li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>Fielding gaffes.</li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>Being absolutely shut down by starting pitcher who has struggled all season.</li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>All the while desperately vying for a (fading) chance at the playoffs. </li>
</ul>
<p>This was not a good night for the Mariners. It was a terrible, excruciating, karate-chop to the groin night for the Mariners. For the umpteenth time I feel obliged to remind everyone that today's game is "just one game". Seattle is two games back of Kansas City/Oakland for the two wild card spots. They are also just 2.5 games back of Detroit. There are 11 games remaining in the M's season. At this point, it still wouldn't be <i>ridiculous</i> for Seattle to make the playoffs; this remains a reality that is within reach. But that reality is quickly slipping away.</p>
<p>Today's Mariners did not look like a playoff team. They did not look like a team capable of scoring three runs, let alone the 13 runs that they scored yesterday. Throughout the season, they have been frustratingly, cripplingly inconsistent with their offense. This is the 18th time that this team has been shut out this year. That means that in 12% of their games, they have been unable to score. That might not be terrible if the Mariners were a soccer team, but in baseball it is so bad. They <i>cannot </i>continue to embarrass themselves at the plate like this if they hope to have any chance of advancing to the playoffs.</p>
<p>Tonight's game was all about the seventh inning and taking advantage (or not) of mistakes made by the opposition. After six innings of virtually no scoring opportunities for either team, the Mariners <i>finally</i> got a man into scoring position with one out in the top of the 7th. Morales walked and Jones (who was used as a pinch runner) stole second because that is what he does. Seager struck out (on three straight pitches - yuck), but Denorfia was able to get on base with a walk. This set the table for <span>Justin Smoak</span>, who was (somewhat inexplicably) inserted into the starting lineup for just the third time since July 21st. Despite the fact that <span>Logan Morrison</span> 1) has been on <a href="http://www.fangraphs.com/leaders.aspx?pos=all&stats=bat&lg=all&qual=0&type=1&season=2014&month=3&season1=2010&ind=0&team=0&rost=0&age=0&filter=&players=9205">somewhat of a tear</a> recently and 2) has <a href="http://www.fangraphs.com/leaders.aspx?pos=all&stats=bat&lg=all&qual=0&type=1&season=2014&month=13&season1=2010&ind=0&team=0&rost=0&age=0&filter=&players=9054,9205">better career numbers</a> against left-handed pitching, Smoak got the nod because he's had <a href="http://www.baseball-reference.com/play-index/batter_vs_pitcher.cgi?batter=smoakju01&pitcher=wilsocj01">moderate success</a> against <span>C.J. Wilson</span> in the past or something like that. Lloyd has made several wonky lineup decisions this year, and they've often-times worked out, but that did not appear to be the case tonight. Although Smoak <i>was</i> the only Mariner to get a hit tonight, with those two men on in the top of seventh he failed to come through. After getting ahead in the count 2-1, Wilson uncorked the hangingest of hanging breaking balls. This pitch was the definition of a meatball, but Smoak was unable to do anything with it. He popped out harmlessly to right field to end the only Mariners threat of the evening.</p>
<p>And then... the <a href="https://www.halosheaven.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Angels</a> followed with five runs in the bottom of the frame. <span>Chris Denorfia</span> suffered a brief flashback to high school dodgeball, expertly avoiding a baseball hit towards him in right field, and Farquhar forgot how to locate any of his pitches. The wheels came off and the snowballs snowballed and when the dust cleared the Mariners were in a five-run hole and it looked like they more or less gave up. I don't want to talk about this anymore. It was all very upsetting. Suffice it to say that, the Mariners were unable to take advantage of any mistakes by the Angels, whereas the Angels pounced on mistakes made by the M's.</p>
<p>Some bullet points, I guess.</p>
<ul>
<li>Coming into tonight, C.J. Wilson had walked batters this season at a higher rate than any other starting pitcher (by a wide margin!) with 4.17 BB/9 (<span>Travis Wood</span> is next with 3.95 BB/9). So, of course, tonight he managed to throw first pitch strikes to 14 of the 25 batters he faced. Early on, the Mariners seemed to be expecting Wilson to have trouble locating his offerings and were taking the first pitch. However, after Wilson proved that he could throw his pitches for strikes, such reservations were abandoned, and the Mariners became much freer with their swings. Unfortunately, this strategy did not work for them tonight. Many M's at bats were three pitches or fewer and Wilson was able to go deep into the game, keeping the Angels relievers in the bullpen until the eighth inning. And even when M's hitters <i>did</i> get into favorable counts, they were unable to hit the ball with authority. <br id="1411018071461">
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cdn3.vox-cdn.com/assets/5030334/MsvsWilson.gif" class="photo" alt="Msvswilson"></p>
Here are the six times tonight that the Mariners were able to put the ball in play while ahead in the count. With the exception of the pitch to Jackson, each of these offerings was up, out over the plate, and seemed rather hittable. But the Mariners managed to do nothing. I'm not saying that Seattle necessarily had a ton of opportunities tonight, but they failed to take advantage of any favorable situations.</li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>This season has been Wilson's worst season since he was converted to a starting pitcher back in 2010. He's suffered with his command and most of his pitches have been significantly less effective in 2014 than they were last year. One of his worst pitches this year has been his curveball. According to PITCHf/x, it's been "good" for -0.92 runs below average/100 pitches. Nonetheless, he's been using this pitch 17% of the time. Since July 4th, Wilson had gotten 9 whiffs against his curveball in 139 offerings (6.5% whiff rate). Tonight, he threw his curveball 29 times and generated eight whiffs (28% whiff rate). That is a staggering increase and the Mariners hitters should be filled with shame and remorse. Blowers indicated that Wilson's curveball <i>was</i> "really working for him" tonight, so I probably shouldn't be <i>so </i>critical of the Mariners regarding their embarrassing attempts at hitting the ball, but I'm currently filled with bitterness and I do not feel particularly inclined to give the Mariners the benefit of the doubt. Maybe tomorrow I will feel differently, but tonight they're all a bunch of bums.<br> </li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>To end on a positive note... <span>James Paxton</span>! He looked so good tonight. Paxton's average fastball this season had been 94.8 mph (good for 9th highest of the 179 SP with 50+ innings pitched this year), but tonight he was channelling a bit more adrenaline and averaged 95.8 mph (hitting 99 mph once!). He was also able to locate all of his pitches with the utmost precision, painting his fastball on the black for called strikeouts and burying his cutter down and in to induce off-balance hacks by the Angels hitters. He recorded eight strike outs (including three K's against <span>Mike Trout</span>, becoming only the sixth starting pitcher to do so in a game) and had just one ~intentional walk. Of the four hits he gave up, three were groundballs; the ball hit at Denorfia was pretty much the only solid contact that Paxton gave up all night. If the Mariners do manage to make the playoffs, Paxton looks like he'd be a formidable starter who'd give the Mariners a very good chance to win.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
</ul>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2014/9/18/6372083/mariners-have-more-errors-than-hits-lose-to-angels-5-0Andrew_Rice2014-09-10T22:52:36-07:002014-09-10T22:52:36-07:00Mariners mail in clunker in another loss to Astros
<figure>
<img alt="" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/-_Bv6sVneRwV4a_HTCbk5cM_sTs=/460x0:3990x2353/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/38356736/20140910_ajw_ab9_170.JPG.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>Steven Bisig-USA TODAY Sports</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Hisashi Iwakuma struggled to get outs and the Mariners' offense had no troubles getting out.</p> <p>This morning I was talking with a coworker and he was bemoaning the fact that the <a href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Mariners</a> lost to the <a href="https://www.crawfishboxes.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Astros</a> last night in a game that was hardly worth remembering. I agreed, said it was frustrating, but that the important piece of the puzzle is that we actually cared that the Mariners lost, in September to the Astros. I took solace in that little distinction. Tonight, the Mariners lost again to the Houston Astros and they did it in an even dumber fashion than last night. I don't take any solace in being frustrated tonight.</p>
<p>There isn't much to be written about this game. Iwakuma was completely off and mailed in his third shortest start of the season. He lasted 4.1 innings, walked two, gave up six hits as four runs came home to score -- all in 79 pitches. By all accounts it was a bad start by Iwakuma. He clearly was having a difficult time with his control and was struggling to find the strike zone, hanging quite a few pitches a bit too low.<img src="http://cdn0.vox-cdn.com/assets/4999980/Screen_Shot_2014-09-10_at_10.42.54_PM.png" class="photo" alt="Screen_shot_2014-09-10_at_10.42.54_pm"></p>
<p>Iwakuma ran into trouble in the second inning and never really settled down too much. It was the third subpar effort from him in his past four games. If the Mariners want to stay in the playoff hunt, they will desperately need the Iwakuma from the beginning of August, not the current version. Tonight's version of Iwakuma doesn't give the Mariners a chance to win when the offense struggles.</p>
<p>Now, let's get to that Mariners' offense. They put men on the base against <span>Nick Tropeano</span>, but weren't able to do any sort of capitalizing on the matter outside of <span>Mike Zunino</span> clubbing a double in the second inning. Tropeano threw 45 of his 80 pitches for strikes, and often the Mariners found themselves in slightly favorable counts. All they could muster were double play after double play after double play. Austin Jackson snared a golden sombrero. The entire offense went without a hit for close to six innings. It was just one of those games. None of it mattered. Nothing matters anymore. I mean, how can you compete when your opponent is able to score runs while sliding on the ground like he is teaching toddlers how to swim?</p>
<p><img src="http://cdn0.vox-cdn.com/assets/4999772/bellyflop.gif" class="photo" alt="Bellyflop"> <br id="1410410468227"></p>
<p>This game is extra frustrating because the Mariners lost a shitty game to a shitty team. They also did so on a night when the <a href="https://www.southsidesox.com/" class="sbn-auto-link">Chicago White Sox</a> came back to top the A's and whichever AL Central team isn't in the lead also lost. It was an opportunity to gain ground on two of the three teams they need to gain ground on, and for the second straight night the Mariners held out used toilet paper as a white flag.</p>
<li>There will never be a more horrible broadcasting moment than being forced to listen to both Bud Selig and Bill Krueger in the same booth for an inning. What made the whole thing even worse was that ROOT apparently forgot the game was going on and spent much of the time with an awkward camera angle while the second inning transpired.</li>
<li>This game isn't even worth talking about anymore. A day off will do this team well, and a weekend series against the A's will hopefully yield the best results.</li>
<li>Looking for some silver lining on the game? Not sure this is it but maybe it will help. This is just the third time since the All Star Break the Mariners have lost two-games straight.</li>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2014/9/10/6134657/seattle-mariners-houston-astros-terrible-gamePeter Woodburn2013-09-29T16:33:25-07:002013-09-29T16:33:25-07:0071-91: The End
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<img alt="should old acquaintance be forgot" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/VfitPo6AeDkCjrRNd-KtA6ik7x8=/42x0:436x263/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/20378759/black.0.png" />
<figcaption>should old acquaintance be forgot | #000000</figcaption>
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<p>Baseball, writing, death, and caring about the above.</p> <p>A very brief recap of today's game:</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Chart" class="photo" src="http://cdn3.sbnation.com/assets/3310753/chart.png"><br id="1380496667091"></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="2013_coolstats_s_sea" class="photo" src="http://cdn2.sbnation.com/assets/3310761/2013_coolstats_s_SEA.jpg"><br id="1380496699689"></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img style="text-align: center;" src="http://cdn0.sbnation.com/assets/3310785/bar.png" class="photo" alt="Bar"></p>
<p>Writing for Lookout Landing this season has been hard. For years I watched Jeff assemble recaps and wondered how anyone could shackle themselves to a single team, let alone a team like the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/">Mariners</a>, for years on end. Then I went and locked myself into the same cell for a couple of days a week, and started scratching against the walls.</p>
<p>Trouble is, I'm not good at this kind of thing. I'm not a journalist. Maybe if things were different, if I were ten years younger and straight out of college and dreaming of big things, I'd climb into this notably roomy bandwagon and grab a rein. I'd report facts destined to be mercifully forgotten, dispensing barbiturates to an ailing and indifferent audience. But then, if I were ten years younger, I'd have grown up with Griffey and Ichiro, Randy and Moyer, the urgency of hope and sanctimony over a year like this.</p>
<p>Instead, I'm a child of an earlier time, the reign of Spike Owen. During my first thirteen years of existence, save for a handful of weeks in 1982, the idea of the Mariners contending, even competing, was patently ridiculous. Every year was 2013 back then. It introduced me to existentialism.</p>
<p>How can one analyze the Mariners? How can one try to understand process in a franchise so impenetrable, so contradictory? I've never been one to hide behind the veneer of authority, and with regards to the Mariners as a conscious entity I know nothing more than any of you. But I didn't understand trading away Ivan Calderon, either, so it's a feeling I've grown used to.</p>
<p>So I'm neither a reporter nor an analyst; I guess I'm a humorist. I write about the game, and everything else, for that little unexpected flash of brilliance, the unforeseen connection between disparate things. This is weakness, the writing equivalent of the get-rich-quick scheme. Writing, and caring about this team, require real effort, strength and character, things I have in short supply. Being a humorist allows detachment, an ability to appear and disappear wherever the jokes lie.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cdn0.sbnation.com/assets/3310785/bar.png" class="photo" alt="Bar"></p>
<p>I feel bad about this. So last week, with the season waning, I wanted to plumb the exact depths of baseball despair. So as the Lincoln/Armstrong debacles unfolded, I read a book called "<a target="_blank" href="http://www.amazon.com/Universal-Baseball-Association-Henry-Waugh/dp/0452260302?tag=sbnation-20" rel="sponsored nofollow noopener">The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop.</a>" It is perhaps the best baseball book I have ever read. It made me feel terrible.</p>
<p>It's the story of J. Henry Waugh, a single, 56 year-old accountant who devotes his spare time to an intricate, dice-based baseball game of his own creation. In handwritten journals he records statistics, writes recaps, tracks awards and drafts and deaths. He builds storylines into the fictional names, weaves personalities and relationships in them. To the surprise of those around him, Henry is indifferent to real baseball, indifferent and arbitrary; his own league is personal and creative. As Henry's life crumbles, so does his Association, and the layers of fiction begin to blur together.</p>
<p>The turning point of the novel (avoiding spoilers, do go read the book) is the tragedy of a single die roll, a random number generated. It is a terrible roll for Henry and his league, but he is bound by the rules, the system he has created, and he is bound to that set of dice as well. It's the bargain he has made.</p>
<p>With the Mariners, it's the one we've all made. Baseball is a poorly written story, one with loose ends and underwritten passages, poorly edited. Morals are in short supply. But it compels us to follow in at least one way that intricate, brilliant drama fails to do, because we know it is completely beyond our control. In movies and television, we find it grating when an ending, happy or bad, feels forced and artificial. We want to feel that the ending chosen is the only possible ending, that the effects are just. But baseball, as with all of real life, refuses to supply this little lifeline. No one knows how the story will end. No one knows whether it'll be fair.</p>
<p>In a sense, this is a microcosm of the crisis we all face in death. Each of us stares into the abyss, and we flinch, because it's impossible and inhuman not to. We find ways to mitigate the total vulnerability of infinity and baseball: we bestow virtue on the victors, denigrate the failures, craft narratives and hope.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cdn0.sbnation.com/assets/3310785/bar.png" class="photo" alt="Bar"></p>
<p>Last week I was looking through an old notebook I used to carry in my pocket for stray thoughts. Most of the comments are gibberish, or worse. But there was one phrase that struck me:</p>
<blockquote style="margin: 0 0 0 40px; border: none; padding: 0px;">
<p>The desire for truth is often obscured by the desire for system</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is what we've been denied this year, what's made it crueler than even the darkest moments with Bavasi. It has to do with our needs as fans. Over the years, the fandom of baseball has changed. The focus has shifted away from the performance of the team, the actual physical feats of the athletes, to the organization and development of those athletes. The average American plays less and watches more sport than ever before. This doesn't weaken our appreciation, but it does seem to be more strategic, less instinctual.</p>
<p>We can still appreciate Kyle Seager's swing, of course, and Carlos Peguero's to a lesser extent. But the majority of fans (or, at least, the majority of readers here) find pleasure in the same act of creation that J. Henry Waugh did: the process behind building a baseball team, understanding the logistics and the mechanics. At its greatest moments, fandom reaches out beyond itself and touches the game, as with the King's Court and Dave's open letter to Felix. Most of the time this instinct is a silly and harmless thing, an elevated form of the stereotypical superstitious fan. But even then it's a valid and human reaction; we want our efforts to mean something.</p>
<p>The upper management of the Mariners has proven that they're not receptive to any evidence of failure, not even attendance numbers. Nor do they have incentive to reveal their motives. We have no process to go by, no story to follow along with and join in crafting. We'll all continue second guessing, because baseball is always a marvelous and arcane puzzle. But it'll be no different than postulating what happens after we die.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cdn0.sbnation.com/assets/3310785/bar.png" class="photo" alt="Bar"></p>
<p>This all sounds pessimistic, I know. Many of you are healed by a two-game winning streak, and I envy that. But this isn't about losing, despite how much losing there's been. As a tonic for J. Henry Waugh I went back and read a passage from Roger Angell's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Summer-Game-Bison-Book/dp/0803259514?tag=sbnation-20" target="_blank" rel="sponsored nofollow noopener">The Summer Game</a>, regarding the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.amazinavenue.com/">New York Mets</a> of the early sixties. That team was far worse than the Mariners, and yet the fans adored them - because they belonged to them. The M's don't feel like they belong to us, just now.</p>
<p>So maybe the Mariners are just another unthinking force in the external world, the random tornado that destroys the farm. For those who, like myself, are stuck loving baseball, even loving the damn tornado, regardless, you have to live with the rolls of the dice. And if we aren't given process or meaning, you're going to have to make it yourself. Even if it means starting this all over next year.</p>
<p>Don't worry; you'll do just fine. We're good at this.</p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2013/9/29/4784596/71-91-the-endPatrick Dubuque2013-06-19T22:40:34-07:002013-06-19T22:40:34-07:0032-41: Mariners Aren't As Good As Mike Trout
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<img alt="STEVE HOLT!" src="https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/E1j3NvFwM8DQLx1SJe48CCnmoOI=/0x74:4000x2741/1310x873/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/15084299/170893288.0.jpg" />
<figcaption>STEVE HOLT! | Victor Decolongon</figcaption>
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<p>Song as old as rhyme....</p> <p><img src="http://assets.sbnation.com/assets/2812939/Groundhog_Chart.jpg" class="photo" alt="Groundhog_chart"><br id="1371704413719"></p>
<h4>Blue Ribbon: <span>Joe Saunders</span> (.207 <a target="_blank" href="http://www.fangraphs.com/livewins.aspx?date=2013-06-19&team=Angels&dh=0&season=2013">WPA</a>)<br>Certificate of Completion: <span>Mike Zunino</span> (-.171 WPA)</h4>
<p><i>Tonight the <a class="sbn-auto-link" href="https://www.lookoutlanding.com/">Mariners</a> lost their 9th 1-0 game since the beginning of The Great Winter (2010). As a result of this oft repeated outcome the team has left me, a lowly amateur sportswriter, the unenviable task of summarizing the events in a way that paints tonight's contest as a unique spectacle. My efforts can be found below.</i></p>
<p>DATELINE (NORTH AMERICAN CITY): In a game that seemed to have no clear cut winner it was the Mariners who's coin landed on tails tonight as they were defeated by (OPPONENT) 1-0. While a lineup featuring (IMPOTENT/INJURED VETERAN) and (RUSHED PROSPECT) showed the zeal and verve of contenders it was rendered all for not. The unfortunate lapse in runs overshadowed a sterling effort by (MARINERS PITCHER) who drew a tough luck loss.</p>
<p>"(MARINER PITCHER GIVES QUOTE ABOUT NOT WORRYING ABOUT RUN SUPPORT)."</p>
<p>Asked about how the offense was shut down (MARINER MANAGER) said: "Well our guys competed out there. I felt like we were well prepared and put in professional at bats. There were a lot of balls hit hard that just happened to find some gloves and you're going to have games like that. This is a game of failure and overcoming adversity. While I like to think we never say die and you never want to accept defeat sometimes you really have to acknowledge that (OPPOSING PITCHER) really had himself a great game. Sometimes being a champion means knowing when you're beat and tipping your cap. We'll be out here tomorrow ready to try and salvage (SERIES/ROAD TRIP/MONTH/SEASON/CAREER)."<br><br>(AGED FAN TOTEM): "I think part of what this season has been about has been setting an example for these young guys. Y'know games like tonight, where you just don't get anything going? Those are gonna happen in a 162 game schedule. What these young players need to learn now is that we don't let that get us down. It doesn't matter what our record is or how many games out we are you show up the next day ready to play. Ready to honor the uniform."<br><br>The Mariners are a long ways from the optimism and boundless hope of a few short months ago in Arizona, now finding themselves (10+) games out of 1st before the All-Star Break. Despite the frustrating results so far (GENERAL MANAGER) is quick to point to reasons for hope, citing a bevy of young prospects in the minor leagues that have the organization confident that better times are soon to come, and this time they'll be here to stay.</p>
<p>(GENERAL MANAGER): "There are no quick fixes for something like this. We have to do it the right way and that takes time. I think if you look at what we've got going down in (MINOR LEAGUE AFFILIATE) with players like (PROSPECT, PROSPECT) and (PROSPECT) you'll see that we aren't that far away from putting together something really special here. I'm confident that success is coming soon."<br><br>The Mariners finish their series against (OPPONENT) tomorrow as (FELIX FUCKING HERNANDEZ) faces off against (SOME ASSHOLE THAT PITCHES FOR THE ANGELS).</p>
https://www.lookoutlanding.com/2013/6/19/4447562/32-41-mariners-arent-as-good-as-mike-troutNathan Bishop