The first time I felt jilted by a prospect

Although Jefferies was a disappointment compared to the hype he received in the minors, he did have a 14-year career in the majors, hitting .289/.344/.421 with a 107 OPS+. His OPS+ was better than league average every year until age 28 when injuries struck, and he had particularly good years in 1993 (.342/.408/.485, 142 OPS+, 5.5 WAR) and 1994 (.325/.391/.489, 130 OPS+, 1.9 WAR in the strike year). He stole 193 bases, was a two-time All Star, and posted a career 21.9 WAR.

John Sickels, MinorLeagueBall.com.

It’s amazing to look at Gregg Jefferies’ baseball-reference page now and realize he was a pretty decent Major Leaguer. In my memory, outside of 29 games at the end of the 1988 season, he sucked.

Mets fans often reference Generation K and/or Alex Escobar when reminding each other of the way prospects frequently fail to match their surrounding hype. And I do that too, of course. But to me no former Met better embodies the distinction between expectations and actual performance than Jefferies, largely because I legitimately expected he’d end up in the Hall of Fame.

I followed the Mets in 1987, but 1988 was my breakout season as a crazy, full-tilt Mets fan. When Jefferies came up in late August of that year, with tons of hype surrounding his promotion, he was electrifying. In his first 13 games, he hit .462 with a .500 OBP and a .962 slugging. Small sample size, obviously, but I was 7 years old and knew nothing of the concept. I was watching this guy I had read about all season in Inside Pitch, and he was everything I had hoped he would be and more.

Ultimately he wasn’t, of course. But I can’t say I didn’t spend a significant amount of time that year trying to affect a permanent squint to make myself look like Gregg Jefferies. And in backyard Wiffleball games, I tried to imitate the way he frequently seemed to stumble over second base on doubles.

In 1989, Jefferies stunk it up out of the gate, and I guess my appreciation for him fizzled quickly. I remember a bunch of nonsense in the newspapers involving an open letter to Mets fans, but I can’t recall the specifics. By the time he was traded to the Royals in December, 1991, I was more upset about the departure of another favorite — Kevin McReynolds — than the loss of the 24-year-old Jefferies. And more than anything, I was excited about the All-Star cast the Mets seemed to be pulling together for the 1992 season.

Oh, baseball.

From the Wikipedia: Tool use by animals

This comes from the new-to-me but now defunct Tumblr Best of Wikipedia.

From the Wikipedia: Tool use by animals.

The Wikipedia provides a few definitions of tools, but presumably you know what tools are. Basically, they’re anything you use to do something that you can’t do with your own body. For a long time, people assumed we were the only species of animal that used tools because we always think we’re so fancy with our glue guns and our Segways. But it turns out a bunch of animals use tools too.

Most tool use by animals is by primates, which shouldn’t surprise anyone because monkeys are awesome. Most primate tools are just sticks, but they’re really making those sticks work for them. Gorillas use sticks to extract termites from nests and to gauge depth in water. Orangutans use sticks to dig delicious seeds out of fruit. Chimps use sticks a bit more violently; they use them to break open bee hives for honey and have even been seen sharpening sticks to use as spears for hunting. That’s pretty ominous, actually.

Also kind of terrifying: Bottlenose dolphins use conch shells as a kind of utensil, catching small fish in them and then lifting them out of the water to let the fish slide down into their mouths. That on its own isn’t scary, what’s scary is that the behavior appears to be spreading, implying that dolphins are still getting better at stuff. Dolphins were the even-money favorite for next dominant species on earth to begin with; learning that they’re learning only improves their odds.

Bears apparently use rocks to exfoliate, which explains why bears have such radiant skin. Also, dingos have been witnessed moving a table to help them reach food. One time I put a biscuit down on the ground and showed it to my dog. He got all excited, because he loved biscuits. Then I put a red plastic Solo cup face down on top of the biscuit to cover it. He approached the cup, sniffed it a little bit, then walked away looking dejected. I gave him the biscuit anyway, out of pity. Stupid dog.

A certain species of ant picks up small stones and other objects and drops them down rival anthills to trap the enemy ants inside and allow its compatriots to forage without competition. More like inhumantity, amirite?

Perhaps the most interesting use of tools come from birds, previously assumed to be really dumb by this site and others. It turns out crows and seagulls have been known to drop hard-shelled nuts and clams onto roads, wait for cars to run them over, then come back to eat the meaty insides.

Nothing tops this, though: Crows like this one have been seen (as you will see) breaking up bread into little pieces and dropping them into water to bait fish. This is so awesome:

Enter Kelly Shoppach

The Mets acquired Kelly Shoppach from the Red Sox today for a player to be named later. Shoppach, a right-handed hitting catcher that’s not half-bad offensively, fills a need for the Mets: He can spell Josh Thole against lefties without creating a hole in the lineup. He’s not Johnny Bench on either side of the ball and he had back-to-back woeful offensive seasons in Tampa Bay in 2010 and 2011, but Shoppach has been a patient hitter with some pop in his bat for most of his career. He doesn’t make a ton of contact, but all things considered he’s about a league-average backstop offensively and represents an obvious upgrade over the woeful hitting the Mets have gotten from their backup catchers this season.

What’s odd is the timing. Shoppach is eligible for free agency after the season, so unless the Mets believe he’ll accept arbitration, he doesn’t factor in their plans for 2013. And though he makes the team ever-so-slightly better for the next couple of months, he’s hardly enough to catapult them back into the Wild Card race from nine games out.

The Red Sox called up prized catching prospect Ryan Lavarnway a couple of weeks ago, and they too are more or less out of the race. So maybe the move is about clearing room for Lavarnway to catch more often, and the Mets’ angle is something along the lines of, “Hey — free upgrade, why not?” But a lot depends on the quality of the player yet named, obviously.

For now, the Mets get a little bit better, which is nice. I suspect the move will make a bit more sense at some point in the future.

Taco Bell Tuesday

Happy Taco Bell Tuesday! I’ll dive right in:

Cantina Bell menu emblematic of fast-food progress: Matthew Yglesias at Slate argues that “The entry of new higher-end places [like Chipotle] is precisely what’s driving the Taco Bells of the world to raise their games” and adds that “[i]n the end, it means that nasty fast food as we know it is almost certainly doomed.” The whole piece is worth a read.

I’m with him on the first point but skeptical of the second. With improved technology and higher standards come change — and in most cases improvements — across society. Many say the ongoing popularity of food trucks is a fad, and to their credit I suspect that ultimately corporatization of mobile restaurants will push many of our current local favorites off the streets. But the food-truck thing is undeniably a product of contemporary technology: The Internet allows truck owners to easily communicate where they’ll be and what they’re serving, which lets hungry lunchers everywhere eschew the crappier nearby options for something more interesting and specialized. As recently as 10 years ago, popular and inexpensive marketing tools like Facebook and Twitter were unavailable or more difficult to update than they are now, meaning that typically food trucks and their ilk needed to anchor to a regular location or neighborhood and rely on word of mouth to foster the lengthy lines we see all the time all over big cities now.

So yeah, it’s reasonable to say that Chipotle has forced Taco Bell to “raise [its] game.” Look at the quality of television now versus the network-dominated 1980s. Sure, there’s plenty of dumb stuff to watch, but thanks to the competition there’s also way more smart stuff to watch. I suspect no one would make Breaking Bad or Mad Men or The Wire if we still only had three or four networks catering to the broadest possible tastes, just like Taco Bell would never have to launch the Cantina Menu if it were still the only Mexican-inspired fast-food joint in the national market.

But does it spell doom for our beloved Crunchy Tacos and Big Macs? I don’t know. Again: The good stuff on TV has not replaced the dumb stuff on TV, it just adds to it. Maybe people soon won’t stand for typical fast food that’s not prepared fresh, but as long as there’s a market for delicious, inexpensive food sold at presumably massive markups and served in seconds, Taco Bell’s not going to stop selling its traditional fare. But then I’m biased and trying to remain optimistic, and I never thought Taco Bell was “nasty” to begin with.

Speaking of which: On a drive to Ithaca for a wedding Saturday night, my wife and I stopped at a Taco Bell Express in a truck stop off the interstate. I ordered a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, but the woman at the register told me they were unavailable at the location — I imagine because they don’t stock the precious Zesty Pepper Jack Sauce. They didn’t have Volcano Tacos either and I wound up ordering a couple of old-fashioned Crunchy Tacos, the staple of the Taco Bell menu but one I normally ignore in favor of more complex Taco Bell fare.

Man, how great are tacos? I mean tacos like the way you used to know them, before anyone told you that the tacos you grew up with in the school cafeteria are “inauthentic” and/or bastardized versions of their Mexican ancestors (which aren’t really that old anyway). The crunchy yellow shell, just thick enough to stay firm despite the orangey grease from the salty and spicy ground beef within, crumbling apart slowly as you chomp each bite of crispy lettuce, tasty cheese and delicious meat but perfectly sized to remain intact until the finish.

You question Glen Bell’s greatness? Glen Bell gave this to you! And we could discuss for hours whether he actually created the thing or even the innovation that allowed it to be produced for the masses, and debate whether the glorious reign of tacos was inevitable regardless of Bell’s role in their ascendance, but what happened happened: It’s Bell, Glen Bell — Taco Bell! — that ushered this perfect treat into ubiquity.

Speaking of which: Did you know that Glen Bell’s ancestor Joseph Bell was the Scottish forensic scientist who inspired Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to create Sherlock Holmes? I didn’t, and I know so much about Glen Bell. Now we all know, thanks to OMG Facts and famed WFUV host and MetsBlog contributor Amit Badlani, who passed it along.

Lastly: In Ithaca, there’s a Taco Bell with the old-style sign. I know that a lot of research goes into what color combinations make people hungry and enthusiastic for Mexican-inspired fast food and everything, but I much prefer this scheme to the purple, pink and yellow one you see on most Taco Bell signs now:

Jeff Francoeur makes reasonable baseball observation, invites gunfire

For me, you win as many damn games as you can, whenever you can. If that’s Stephen Strasburg throwing 200 innings, so what? Cole Hamels pitched 262 innings (at 25, in 2008) the year the Phillies won the World Series. You’re telling Strasburg that once you get to 180 innings, go ahead and enjoy October from the bench? Just shoot me.

Jeff Francoeur.

It may be silly to react to Strasburg’s long-expected shutdown before it happens, but I’ve mentioned it on the podcast a couple of times and I might as well note it in print: If the Nationals make the playoffs and Stephen Strasburg is held out of the postseason due to a pre-set innings limit, they’re ferociously missing the point.

Even if you believe in the Verducci Effect, which is unproven and relies on selection bias, you must recognize that young pitching is fickle, all teams and especially teams built upon young pitching are subject to massive fluctuations in performance year after year, and there’s no definitive way to prevent pitcher injury. There’s no guarantee the Nats will make the playoffs next year or the year after that, and there’s no guarantee Strasburg will be healthy then even if they do, regardless of whether he’s shut down tomorrow. Why do you have Stephen Strasburg if not to help you win the World Series?

Jeff Francoeur has been wrong about many things in the past (i.e., “This pitch is clearly a fastball!”) but he’s spot on here.

Via BBTF.

But why?

If you are a conscious human and fan of Major League Baseball, you probably know by now that the Mets’ bullpen sucks. And if you are not a conscious human or fan of Major League Baseball, it’s extraordinarily unlikely you are reading this blog. And that’s good, because if you’re not ready to get nerdy with this, you’re probably not going to care for this post.

If you’re interested in what follows, you might want to open up the league-wide bullpen stats at Fangraphs and Baseball-reference to follow along.

The Mets’ bullpen has the worst ERA of any relief corps in baseball despite playing half their games in a park that favors pitchers. It sucks, and we’re past dismissing it as confirmation bias at this point. It sucked at the beginning of the year, it sucked in the middle of the year, and it sucks now.

It’s worth noting, at the very least, that the Mets’ relievers have not allowed the most runs or the most runs per game — a couple other bullpens have been more viciously victimized, at least statistically, by their defenses. And the Mets’ bullpen, as difficult as this may be to believe, falls (barely) outside of the league’s bottom five in save percentage. So there’s some evidence that it’s maybe not quite as bad as we think it is, at least relative to the league.

Still, by Fangraphs’ shutdown/meltdown stat, the Mets have the only bullpen in the Majors that can boast more meltdowns than shutdowns. Even if the Mets’ bullpen is not blowing saves at quite the rate of the Rockies’ or Brewers’, it is more often allowing close games to fall out of reach than it is keeping them close. That’s kind of crazy, considering how much baseball in general favors pitchers.

And any qualifications of the Mets’ bullpen suckitude could only be used to argue that it doesn’t suck quite so hard as a couple other team’s bullpens, and even those arguments would be tenuous at best. There’s just no doubt that the Mets’ bullpen sucks, only a million open-ended questions about why it sucks to this extent. So with that in mind, let’s look at some possible explanations.

Poor construction: As good as Sandy Alderson has been so far at maximizing the fringes of the Mets’ position-player roster, he has been just as bad at putting together competent bullpens. It’s a tiny two-year sample, obviously, but if Alderson is hailed here and elsewhere for his moves that pay off, he should be faulted for those that don’t even if they were difficult to foresee. The GM is ultimately responsible for the personnel on a team’s roster, and the personnel in the Mets’ bullpen have not proven adequate.

Still, who saw this coming before the season? That’s not a rhetorical question; I’d love to see the reasonably argued column or blog post predicting that the Mets’ bullpen would be anywhere below capable. Multiple members of the group — notably Frank Francisco, Ramon Ramirez and Manny Acosta — have pitched way worse than their historical norms. Only Bobby Parnell and Jon Rauch have pitched better than their established levels, and only marginally so — not nearly enough to make up for the difference in their teammates’ performances.

A case could be made that the Mets entered the season relying on too many old relievers. Perhaps, given the sample sizes in which relief pitchers operate, by the time a guy can establish a level of production he is too old to maintain it. None of the best bullpens in the league include nearly so many pitchers on the long side of 30, and the Reds’ league-best bullpen has featured only one 30-plus pitcher all year.

But then, the Cubs, Cardinals and Astros all have bad bullpens with lots of young pitchers, and the few other big-league clubs that count on a handful of older relievers — the Blue Jays, Tigers, Angels and Giants — have all been OK. None have been great, which seems worth noting, but they’ve all been appreciably better than the Mets.

Plus, outside of Parnell, none of the young or youngish pitchers the Mets have tried in bullpen jobs has met with much success. There’s still hope for Josh Edgin based on his Major League peripherals, and some hope too for Pedro Beato, Elvin Ramirez and even Rob Carson based on their youth and Minor League numbers. But none of them was even an average Major League pitcher in their short big-league stints in 2012. You can’t just plug in young guys and assume they’ll be good, obviously. You need good young guys, and the Mets haven’t had many this year.

There’s no sure way to build a bullpen. It does seem like most great bullpens tend to be more reliant on arms developed in-house or acquired via trade than Major League free agents, but that’s certainly not a hard-and-fast rule. So while ultimately the blame for this bullpen must fall on Alderson’s shoulders, it’s hard to say with confidence that it’s all his fault.

They just suck: Well, maybe, but it’s hard to figure out exactly why. They walk a lot of guys, but not the most of any bullpen. They have a slightly below average strikeout rate. Their 1.47 WHIP is bad, but not as bad as the Cubs’ or Brewers’ (though both those bullpens are also bad).

The Mets are near the bottom in the league in zone percentage (pitches in the strike zone), and above only a couple of teams who generate a lot more swings-and-misses. So maybe there’s something there: They don’t fool enough hitters to get away with throwing so few strikes. But they are near the middle of the pack in line-drive rate and contact rate and in the low-middle range in home runs per fly ball.

There are a bunch of pitchFX and batted-ball numbers to show that the Mets’ relievers are underwhelming, for sure, but there’s none that really jumps out as an explanation for why they’re collectively so bad. At least by my understanding — if you’ve got something more definitive, please jump in and say something. I’m hardly an expert on this stuff.

Mismanagement: Early in the season, when the Mets were leading the league in relief appearances by a pretty wide margin, I was eager to pin the struggles on Terry Collins’ quick trigger. But as the Mets’ relievers have continued to struggle, Collins has reined in their use. They’re now merely sixth in the league in appearances, which seems rather remarkable given how often they need to be pulled for ineffectiveness. And the Mets are in the bottom half of the league in relief innings pitched and around the middle of the pack in pitches thrown. They’re sixth in appearances with zero days rest, but they’re below the Rays and Braves in that stat, and those teams have good bullpens.

At times, it has seemed like Terry Collins hasn’t helped things with constant reliance on platoon matchups and established bullpen roles, with some “dry-humping” to boot. But it doesn’t seem like any aspect of Collins’ management has been particularly egregious when you consider the performance of the men he has been charged with using.

Bad luck: There’s some evidence the Mets’ relievers have been unlucky this year. If you subscribe to DIPS theory, you might care to learn that they’ve got the biggest positive differential between their ERA and FIP of any team in the Majors — suggesting they’ve been better than their results and should in time meet with more success. Of course, they’ve combined for 319 2/3 innings this season, and though random fluctuations can play out over more time than that, it’s a reasonably large sample of collective sucking.

At 64.8 percent, the Mets also have the lowest strand rate (LOB%) in baseball, a stat that tends to normalize to around the league-average 72 percent. Part of that is likely because they don’t strike out a ton of hitters, but part of that is almost certainly bad luck. Fortune and randomness make for some of the least satisfying explanations for baseball phenomena, but they’re also very often the best ones. The Mets’ bullpen certainly hasn’t been good, but they haven’t been very lucky either.

Bad coaching: The Mets canned Jon DeBus as bullpen coach after one year last season and replaced him with Ricky Bones, but obviously neither has enjoyed much credit for their role. I have no idea to what extent a bullpen coach might help or hurt a bullpen, though — maybe they’re both really bad at pep talks or something, or they have terrible phone manners that somehow bother Terry Collins enough to make him antagonize his relief pitchers into being awful. That doesn’t seem likely, but hey.

Dan Warthen is the constant, and a constant bugaboo for Mets fans. I’d guess this season’s bullpen will cost Warthen his job, but I might have guessed that in 2008 or in 2011 and it hasn’t happened yet. Personally, I doubt Warthen’s coaching is what ails the Mets; the starting pitchers, after all, have been mostly very good when healthy this year. But since I can’t say for sure what effect a pitching coach has on a staff, I also can’t say if Warthen is good or bad at it.

Bullpen-wide malaise: If I’m trying my best to consider all the tangible explanations than I must consider the intangible ones as well. Maybe the Mets’ bullpen features awful chemistry or a defeatist attitude or some sort of bullpen-wide lack of accountability. Maybe they hate the starters and position players and want them to suffer. I don’t know. All of them seem like decent-enough dudes individually, and they’ve all pitched in better bullpens in the past. But maybe they lack a goofy vocal leader to rile them into effectiveness or something. I doubt it, but, again, hey.

So there’s no clear answer. I’m guessing the Mets’ bullpen has struggled due to a combination of nearly every factor above, with the possible exception of the last two. But then if I could say for sure what’s wrong with them, presumably someone in the team’s front office could too and he or she could get about fixing it.

There’s a lot of chicken-and-eggery here, but eight of the teams with the top 10 bullpen ERAs this season are in the thick of playoff contention, with only the otherwise-flawed Royals and Padres featuring good bullpens and bad teams. The good news is there’s enough randomness and fluctuation in bullpen performance and construction that we can legitimately hope the Mets’ bullpen is better next year, and that it’s good enough to help the team compete all season. The bad news is there aren’t a hell of a lot of guys in house who look certain to be part of that bullpen, so Sandy Alderson’s got a lot of work to do this offseason, and he hasn’t been great at building bullpens so far.

 

Friday Q&A pt. 3: The randos

I like both of those stories, especially Bartleby — though I’d say that probably straddles the line between short story and novella in its length. My favorite short story, American or otherwise, is “Harrison Bergeron” by Kurt Vonnegut. It lacks Melville’s linguistic flourishes, certainly, but it’s no less enthusiastic. And I’m a sucker for both Vonnegut and dystopian-future stuff in general.

For what it’s worth, I also really liked O. Henry’s “The Cop and the Anthem” and Jack London’s “A Piece of Steak” when I was younger. Neither quite holds up the same way now as I don’t love O. Henry’s prose and London seems a little too blunt with his themes, but they both seem to fulfill certain requirements of short-story telling. I also always — and still like — Roald Dahl’s “The Landlady,” too.

I read a lot of fiction, something I don’t get into that much on this site. Actually, at home I pretty much exclusively read fiction, and have, for the most part, since childhood. Generally I read before bed, so I never feel confident reviewing or rehashing books if I might have dozed off during important parts. But for whatever it’s worth, anytime in the past that I envisioned becoming a writer, it was almost always as a fiction writer.

You know? I was for a while, but then I put up that suggestion box a few weeks ago and a bunch of people said they wanted more Q&As and mailbag stuff. So I figure one day of it a week — on Fridays when I’m generally scatterbrained and busy anyway — makes sense. As long as I keep getting good questions, I don’t see why I’d stop. They force me to consider things I probably would not if I weren’t prompted, and that’s welcome.

I reserve the right to ditch the Q&A posts when I feel they’re stale, of course. And speaking of this particular Q&A post: I thought for sure I had a third “rando” that I wanted to address, but now I can’t find it. So I’ll end here. Enjoy the weekend.  Sandwich review tomorrow.

 

 

Twitter Q&A, part 2: Food things

For me: Mustard yes, milkshake no. French fries are as much a delivery method for toppings and condiments as anything. Sure, they can be delicious on their own, but that’s because they’re delivering oil and salt even when they’re not dipped in anything. I happen to prefer thinner, crispier french fries. I’m not here for the potatoes, folks.

Anyway, I love mustard and if a french fry is the most convenient available method for getting mustard in me, well then hell yes. I like milkshakes too, but I tend to distinguish my meals from my desserts. Blurring that line seems weird to me. So I don’t drink milkshakes with dinner either. Dinner then milkshake.

Great question, and I hate to cop out but I don’t know if I could pick just one. Off the top of my head, Hall of Famers from Di Palo Dairy and Cafe Ollin stand out, though I’m not sure I’ve been entirely consistent with my ratings. Also, there are plenty of times when it seems I want nothing more than a standard Shackburger from Shake Shack. Usually those times are when I’m walking past Shake Shack. It’s the smell of them that gets me. Do they have a Sbarro machine churning out the smell or something? Also, do people who work there get sick of the smell?

https://twitter.com/dustinparkes/status/233920279762587648

Not as much as I probably should. I’ve heard of the cheeseburger/chicken mash-up of which you speak. Is it not too big to bite? I’d certainly try it.

The only place where I’ve had any luck experimenting with off-menu food items is at Taco Bell, some details of which I covered here. I’ve since also had a Cheesy Gordita Volcano Taco Crunch, which was good but not appreciably better than the sum of its parts. What I’d really like is about two unsupervised hours in the Taco Bell test kitchen to see what I could come up with. I’d probably want to bring a couple friends and my dad along too, creative and dedicated Taco Bell eaters.

I certainly could. Despite how it may seem from the sandwich reviews here, I don’t typically eat pork more than once or twice a week and I almost never eat shellfish. I do like putting cheese on meats, but I could certainly do without it for a week if I had to. I don’t know why I would, though, since I’m not Jewish. No offense to anyone who keeps Kosher, of course, but then I’m not sure why anyone would be offended by my lack of Judaism. I just feel like whenever you bring up religion you need to say, “no offense” to cover your bases. So really, no one take offense to anything here. I just happen to love pork.

I’ve got enough willpower that I’m confident I could do just about anything for a week. Vegan? Sure. It wouldn’t be my favorite week, but I could do it. Hell, I imagine I could fast for a week if I absolutely had to for some reason.

Friday Q&A pt. 1: Mets stuff

https://twitter.com/ryankelly/status/233920887181701120

Well I’m not going to tell you what to do; like him all you want. For me? No, I’ll never like Chipper Jones. I kind of love him, I think, in some bizarre Freudian way, but I hate his guts. He’s obviously an awesome player and he does some hilarious things — many of which seem aimed at straight-up trolling Mets fans, which I appreciate because I do the same thing sometimes. I’m hoping to write more on this at a later date so I don’t want to scoop myself, but one of the few downsides to this job is it changes the way you are as a fan. Actually, I’m not even sure it’s a downside — it’s just a thing. I’m not the same Mets fan I was six years ago.

My first day with a credential, I went into the Phillies clubhouse after Jimmy Rollins booted a ball that cost Philadelphia the game. Because I hated Jimmy Rollins, I figured, subconsciously, that he’d act like a jerk and prove himself worthy of my hatred. But it turns out Rollins is a disarmingly nice guy.

I’ve never met Larry Jones and he’s pretty much the last Major Leaguer that I actually hate, and I feel like I owe it to my teenage Mets-fan self to hold on to that forever. I’m sure he’s not a bad guy, but he’s the bad guy.

https://twitter.com/RobvanEyndhoven/status/233920066733895682

I see no rush. Duda will be back in September, no doubt, but it’s now clear the Mets aren’t going anywhere this year. Duda’s probably the best offensive option the Mets have for regular play in left, but if the team is actually concerned about his confidence, he might as well get the opportunity to gain it back by feasting on Triple-A pitching for a couple of weeks.

Of course, I’m less certain that’s the issue. The biggest concern surrounding Duda has to be his defense, as it seems pretty clear he’s not going to be a big-league right fielder anytime soon. Since Ike Davis appears entrenched at first — and also probably not rangy enough to play the outfield, for those wondering — Duda needs to play left field until he proves he can’t. I don’t see why he’d have anything close to adequate range in left if he didn’t in right, but maybe he’d at least be better equipped to cover it with his arm in left.

https://twitter.com/GSchif/status/233926888907735040

I assume it’s Colbert, phonetically, because he’s a total Colbert. Also, someone needs to make a weekly Cole Hamels news show called the Colbert Report, sounding out the t’s.

https://twitter.com/JoeBacci/status/233925241389330433

I had heard that, yes. I’m not much of a soccer fan. I don’t want to get into the reasons and start some sort of pro vs. anti-soccer comments section flame war like it’s 2006, but neither the sport itself nor the culture surrounding it really appeal to me. I like the one Italian guy who looks like he’s from the future.

But I would welcome the idea of a soccer team in Flushing if it meant, ultimately, that there’d be more things to do before and after Mets games. This is a purely selfish thing, not an eminent domain thing or a Wilpon thing or anything else: The Willets Point development can’t happen soon enough. I’ve been to most of the Major League ballparks in the country, and I can’t think of any that sit in aesthetically worse immediate areas than Citi Field does. The whole baseball experience would (and hopefully will) be more pleasant if the Iron Triangle were anything but rows upon rows of chop shops. Even if it’s totally corporate and cookie-cuttery, it’d still be nice to have someplace to go within quick walking distance of the stadium and the subway besides the one bar attached to the stadium.

Stickball stuff

Adam Doster’s excellent post to the Classical about Chicago’s regional variety of softball got me thinking about the regional baseball-related game popular in my neighborhood growing up.

Throughout high school and college summers, my friends and I played hundreds of stickball games. Some summers, before stuff like jobs and girlfriends got in the way, it seemed like we played nearly every day. We played other sports too, of course — basketball sometimes and pickup tackle football pretty often. But those typically required more guys or more effort than stickball, our default outdoor activity.

There’s some stuff on the Wikipedia about stickball, but it includes descriptions of varieties we never played. Our version is what the Wiki deems “fast-pitch stickball,” requiring a spray-painted strike zone on the side of a school building. We played with a wooden stickball bat — available at the local sporting-good store — and a tennis ball. The balls and strikes rules are the same as regular baseball, with no limit on foul balls or foul tips.

Because games were typically 3-on-3, 2-on-2 or even 1-on-1 in lean times, there was no baserunning. Ground balls fielded cleanly by the pitcher were outs, as were any fly balls caught by a fielder. Ground balls past the pitcher were singles, and doubles, triples and home runs were distinguished by predetermined landmarks at each field. At the place we most frequently played, my old elementary school, doubles were anything on the gravel area built around the playground, triples were past the playground, and home runs — which were more or less impossible — were past the soccer goal on the field behind the playground.

The game emphasized the pitcher-batter matchup, even more so than real baseball. Plus if it’s a 2-on-2 or 3-on-3 game, you get to hit and pitch much more often than you do in a regular 9-on-9 baseball game.

Most of the time, I played with the same rotating group of 8-10 guys, so we developed pretty keen scouting reports on each other. One guy, who was the best pitcher on our high-school’s baseball team and could touch 90 with his fastball, was the only one capable of intimidating hitters with a tennis ball. One guy threw a sneaky curveball on both sides of the plate. Another guy had great control but reliably threw first-pitch fastballs down the middle that you could sit on. I honestly don’t want to get into more detail even now for fear I’ll give something away for some future game, even though we haven’t played in eight years or so. As recently as a few weeks ago at a bachelor party, several of us were sharing notes on the guys that weren’t around.

I sucked at pitching, relying on a crappy slider and a loopy curveball that often got too much plate. But I developed into a decent wrist hitter with a good eye, the best way to succeed in stickball. Also, because the strike zone was painted in the crook of the L-shaped elementary school field and everything that hit the side wall was foul, pulling the ball provided no benefit.

And something funny happened. I quit baseball after Little League because I wasn’t very good and took up lacrosse for a while because physically violent sports better suited my body type and mentality and because it seemed like a better way to stay in shape for football. I played stickball religiously, but didn’t try baseball again until I joined an 18-and-under travel team with some friends. By then — and I am sure it was because of stickball — I could hit a bit, leading the team in OBP and finishing second in batting average. I am sure it was because of stickball because I hit almost everything right back up the middle — either a groundout to the pitcher, a single through the hole, a fly out to the center fielder or an extra-base hit over his head. I’ve been playing baseball in Brooklyn for six years now, and it took me at least the first two to start pulling the ball with any regularity. Also, I still want to play stickball, almost always. Old habits die hard.

Notable area stickball alumni include Taking Back Sunday drummer Mark O’Connell and ESPN host Kevin Connors.

Everything even resembling baseball is pretty awesome. What version did you play?