This is the worst part of the baseball season. Four days without games of value. Our only options are to endure 3.5 hours of Chris Berman’s tired schtick during televised batting practice or watch a game that “matters” a lot more than it should. Media members dig for bogus narratives and feel-good stories to keep themselves entertained. The players appear to enjoy themselves, though a fair amount of them are probably wishing they were on vacation like their teammates and managers are. For some, being named to the All-Star Game is a great achievement and something every great player should experience at least once. But overall, the Major League Baseball All-Star Game and accompanying Home Run Derby are a joke and serve as nothing more than a respite from the rigors of a 162-game season.
As I mentioned last season around this time, I used to love the Home Run Derby as a kid. That was when my views on baseball were simple, with the childlike desire to watch my favorite players hit the ball far. Now, I spend more time wondering why grown men and women care so much about batting practice when I see it before every Indians game I attend. Is it because of the names involved? Is it because it’s drilled into baseball fans to care about such a trivial event?
I could rattle off all kinds of stats about the Indians, sabermetric and otherwise. I can remember final scores, dates, winning pitchers, and exact plays. As I sit here penning this, I couldn’t even begin to tell you who is in the Home Run Derby. I simply don’t care. Home runs that travel 380-feet on pitches purposely thrown belt high down the middle of the plate don’t feel like accomplishments to me. Hell, even 480-foot home runs in a controlled environment aren’t impressive. Hit a 98 mph letter-high fastball 480-feet and I’ll be impressed. Dig out a slider on the outer half and hit it over the opposite field fence and I’ll get excited. Dish out souvenirs to grown men fighting over glorified batting practice home runs while your Little League coach or bench coach pitches to you? Meh.
There’s an acronym in baseball called TINSTAAPP. It stands for “There is no such thing as a pitching prospect”. It’s a nine-letter acronym to describe the volatility of pitching prospects due to injury, ineffectiveness, control issues, or any number of things that can go wrong with a promising young arm. Along the same lines, somebody needs to come up with an acronym for the volatility of bullpens.
Two straight losses with some big crowds. A big weekend series against the team you are battling toe-to-toe with for the division. A chance to win over some fans. A chance to put a little fear into the cats from up in the northern part of the country.
When the Indians signed free agent Mark Reynolds this past offseason there were many who lauded the move as an aggressive stroke from the Tribe’s front office to go out and land a legitimate power hitting threat. There were others who questioned whether $7million for a feast or famine guy like Reynolds was a wise roll of the dice.
In times of war, the court of public opinion begins to coalesce. Should “non-essential” activities, such as sporting events, be postponed? Perhaps canceled? 