How in the Hell Did We Survive Before the Internet?

Most of my baseball reading -- like about 90% of it -- takes place online now, and you're probably the same. It isn't that the MSM have completely failed in their coverage, or their quality has declined, or anything of the sort, but rather a matter of expedience and convenience, e.g. I can get Bastian's comments on life at 'The Mattick' as soon as he writes it. But as a kid, I lived for that point in the winter when the season preview magazines hit newsstands (er, the shelf at the convenience store). The things carried the weight of some mysterious authority. Before I knew that the cover images were tailored for different regions, I thought that seeing a Blue Jay featured on the cover meant that the editors, in their seasoned baseball wisdom, foresaw a Toronto World Series victory. And that carried a lot of import with me.

I picked one up recently -- specifically this one (I was at the airport in Atlanta). I wanted something lighter than the book I had, and frankly I wanted to think about baseball for a while. So I sat back and tore into it. But what struck me pretty quickly was how out of date it already was, owing to publication dates. They didn't know where anybody was. (It made me think, with great fondness, of those "Now With..." baseball cards -- do they still make those?)

It wasn't terrible, of course, and I suspect I'll make a bunch of notes in the magazine and keep it handy during my fantasy draft. But the discovery made me a little sad, too. I think I'm a tactile person, I like the object for its very object-ness, and realizing that something tangible no longer suited my purposes as well as did information on a screen felt like a loss, however minor.

Listen to me, now I'm a Luddite.

Breaking the Silence

One by one the reluctant bloggers emerge to the pale light of a late winter sun. Hell, even Joanna's awake and alert, shaking off her crushing ennui. Rumour has it that despite the immediate evidence of snow falling outside my window, the venerable spring rituals are underway. Bastien says so. So I figured I owed it to my legions of readers, not to mention my lone Blogger Follower (big up, Lloyd), to drag my carcass out of hibernation and say a thing or two about baseball, specifically but not exclusively about the Jays, because that's what this here blog's reputedly about.

• General thoughts: Toronto's not going to win the World Series this year. There, I said it. If I'm proven wrong, I'll be deliriously happy. But let's be honest. Does that mean it won't be worth watching this team? Well, so far as I'm concerned, even if they lose 100 games (which they won't), it'd still be worth tuning in every fifth game. And the ongoing theatre of the maturation of Lind and Snider will be fascinating. Will Overbay rebound? Can Rios put all the tools together at the same time? We probably know what'll happen with the reclamation projects (Clement, Maroth, Burres and to an extent Takahashi), i.e. nothing more than an all expenses paid tour of the Pacific Coast League, but who knows? Maybe Michael Barret wakes up and takes Barajas' job, the way Barajas wrested it from Zaunnie's calloused hands? And in the rotation, in what's become an annual ritual in Toronto, who steps up and surprises us all? How will Lil Litschie handle the pressure of being a number 2 guy? These are the storylines, among others, and they're the reason I watch. If I lost interest everytime this team wasn't picked to win the division, I'd be a Yankees fan. (Besides, Lloyd posits this team could overperform like the '03 Mariners, and it's that kind of longshot optimism that makes me love baseball and baseball fans.)
  

• Jesus God, I love Roy Halladay. I love him and his "BBs in the dark." And let's instigate a total and complete ban on any and all talk of trading him this or any other season, deal? I want this man in a Toronto uniform until the day he dies at a ripe old age. I'm serious -- pitching coach, bench coach, eccentric clubhouse institution, spinning nightmare scenarios about the end of days and unhittable cut fastballs. Never leave us, Roy!

• Kevin Millar, huh? What the hell, if he can make this team a little more interesting, I'm all for it. Because let's face it, we're Jays fans, but even we have to admit that there isn't a lot of character in this clubhouse.

• Did we know about Robbie Alomar's health issue? Is there anything to know? Because I had never heard this, and you'd think it would've come out in the coverage of his addition to the Rogers Centre's Ring of Honour last spring.

• G'bye Russ! G'bye Curtis!

Elsewhere:

• Is A-Rod an idiot and an asshole? Of course. Would I scoff if he was available during my fantasy draft? I would not (lest you accuse me of possessing morals). And I'm still convinced this is Selig's fault more than anyone else, mostly because he looks like Emperor Palpatine.

• With or without the approval of Willie Mays and, er, Harold Reynolds, I don't feel convinced that Griffey can provide anything more than feel-good vibes for people who haven't been to a game at Safeco for several years. But at least that whole thing is over. Now if only Manny would sign (Dodgers) or go to Japan for a year, then I could open my feeds tab in the morning without cringing.

• Ichiro pitches! The legend grows.

That is all.

Called Out!

The Drunkards, playground bullies of the Jays blogging community, rightly called me a lazy asshole when it comes to updating this blog. Six lousy posts since October, they say. My defense? Like many of our heroes, I like to take some time off in the off-season.

In truth, like Joanna at Hum & Chuck suggested, what the hell has there been to write about this winter? AJ left. I am neither shocked nor saddened. Let the Yankees have him and his diminishing returns. The brass seems to be only slightly more upfront about the team's chances for completing this coming season, indicating that it'll prove a valuable campaign only insofar as it provides the young'uns a chance to mature. Well alright, that's pretty damn exciting. Plenty there to rouse my from my winter torpor.

I could stretch it and get verbose over Rickey's rightful induction, Rice's pity induction (how many BBWAA members live in Boston, anyway?) or the retirement of one-time Jay Jeff Kent. But fuck it, I just haven't cared that much, and I'm not as adept at analysis (read: numbers) as some of you are. Know thyself, reads the maxim, and I know this: My insights into front office moves, minor league depth and the nuances of contract law simply aren't that trenchant. I'm not about to fake it -- that shit will get called out a lot faster than inactivity, and with a lot more scorn. So, knowing why I started this thing to begin with -- namely that I love baseball and thought, like every other idiot with a laptop, that that passion might make for some interesting reading for someone, somewhere -- I'll wait until I'm moved before I post something. I'm not going to treat it like a chore; that'd be stupid, and as unenjoyable for the reader(s?) as for the writer.

To summarize: No baseball, little writing. That might be my new masthead slogan. I should point out that this all shows signs of changing, though. Proof that my baseball jones is mounting lies in the fact that I think I'm buying tickets to the World Baseball Classic. You say that (some of) the world's best baseball players will be in Toronto, playing not for passion nor money but out of a grudging sense of national responsibility, or on the advice of agents who think that they'd better appear engaged heading into a contract year, and there are tickets available? Where do I click?

I know myself well enough to predict that I'll shake these blues soon, start wearing jerseys around the house, begin leafing through old Street & Smith's previews, and generally feel that familiar burn, all of which will probably result in increased activity here. In the meantime, I'll restrict my activities to reading the regular updaters.

Dunedin High

Scotty Rolen showed up for his first day of school today. He managed to avoid the dreaded first day schoolyard beatdown, but according to Bastien, Rolen already had a playmate in Vernon Wells, who texted Rolen before the third baseman even had a team physical...

V-Dub: Congrats, Rolz. U made a gr8 decision waiving ur no trade. Iz gonna b a fun year.

Rolen33: Word up.

V-Dub: Dont believe wht u hear about r turf. Iz nice n soft.

Rolen33: Glad 2 hear it, lol. Whats Gibbons like?

V-Dub: He's soft 2, ha ha. Dont worry, you could beat his a$$.

Later, Rolen axed if Alex Rios had a gf.


Much noise is being made about the Jays apparent willingness to sign ex-Jay Shannon Stewart as a fourth (fifth?) outfielder. Despite the results of the Southpaw's detailed breakdown of Stewart vs. the Johnson/Stairs LF platoon, my gut (my instant rebuttal to any statistical breakdown that doesn't back up what seems obvious to me) says his good '07 in Oakland was a late career blip, and that we're better off banking on Reed Johnson's back and Matt Stairs' own late career blip. Luckily for me and the other doubters, Jeff Blair is reporting that the deal is pretty much dead in the water. Yesterday's news. Kaput. A non-issue.

"It's hard to believe you, sir."

"You always got my back, right Andy? No matter what, right?"
"Ummmm..."

I Can't Wait for the Movie

I wasn't going to bother with any of this Clemens bullshit, because this blog is about baseball, whereas that's about lying, backstabbing and dry legal proceedings. But despite our best effort to look the other way, the human drama on view on Capitol Hill demands our attention, and besides, Jeff Blair's there (he's got a good rundown on the day's events here).

The key moment - the "You can't handle the truth!" kicker, the historical soundbite nearest to Joseph Welch's berating of Senator McCarthy, and the Oscar-baiting scene whenever this mess is made into a movie - had to be when Democratic House member Elijah Cummings said to Clemens, "You're one of my heroes. But it's hard to believe you, sir."

That's high drama.

Pomes?

The Drunk Jays Fans got all poetic today, and this just days after their stirring stylistic homage to Fellini. Who knew a liberal arts education was a prereq for joining the DJF ranks?


The Last Few Desperate Hours

Heaven almighty, end our suffering. For the love of all that is good and just, play some ball, fellas! Shag flies! Hit fungoes! Play pepper! This boy is exhausted for the waiting, already. If I have to hear any more crap about Ray Emery or the latest Sens acquisitions, I'll lose it. Just my luck, I live on the fringes of a hockey town, a place where Daniel Alfredsson's injuries lead the newscast - not the sports report, mind, but the newscast. I need some meaningless briefs from FLA and AZ by shirtsleeved reporters flanked by palm trees, their 'dos buffeted by the stiff Gulf breeze, just to leaven my February dread. Just a taste, please.

Let's Play Some Baseball

Now's the Time: We've had the trades, the signings, the ill-considered ticket schemes. We've watched hours of video, done prodigious reading (David Maraniss' Clemente is excellent; Jonathan Eig's Jackie Robinson bio is not as good, but still enjoyable), purchased expensive memorabilia, started a blog, and read dozens of others. We have our hopes, our predictions, and we've maintained our heroes. Now all we want is for overgrown men to travel down to Florida and Arizona for the simple purpose of throwing and catching and hitting balls. Please: play some baseball.

A Thought: I sat through some of Hockey Day in Canada this past Saturday. As always, I enjoyed some of it, cringed at other parts, and eventually turned off the TV when I'd had enough hockey. I appreciate the spirit of the thing, it's hokiness in place of bombast (imagine if Fox were to attempt something similar). All in all, it is a thing so infused with a patriotism so awkward and so self-conscious that only the CBC could get away with it. In truth the other point, the creeping subtext, is the desire to prove the Mother Corp's continued relevance ("Maybe you can watch hockey on TSN and Sportsnet, but can they do this?").

But my point (well-concealed, but still present) is this: Why not a Baseball Day in Canada? CBC has a few Saturday afternoon Jays games this season, so why not build around one of those? Have your intrepid reporters fan out across the nation looking for heartwarming little league stories (teams that have survived the death of a player and who fight on in his/her memory are always good), life-affirming tales from the softball beer leagues, maybe a story on the success of the Can-Am League in Quebec City and its arrival in Ottawa, stop in on the Vancouver Canadians at Nat Bailey Stadium. Do some bio pieces on current Canuck major leaguers (but not Eric Gagne). Also look for something wacky, like people in the far north who play baseball in the snow! Throw in some black and white photos, a few history lessons, and you're done. Baseball Day in Canada. A ratings disaster? Maybe, but this is about culture.

I know, I know: a cold day in hell.

Three Strikes

1) Ever the optimist, I guess I can be happy that the fact that the O's and M's have finally made the Bedard-for-Jones-etc. swap means one less formidible pitcher for Toronto to contend with in the East. Still, as somebody who also likes the Mariners (blame Ichiro), I can't say that watching them bet the future on a run in '08 or '09 feels all that good. But here's hoping Orleans' own wins 2o games and the M's outlast the Angels to take the West, only to fall before the Wild Card Jays in the ALDS.

2) I'm an idiot. Remember, way back when, when I called the idea of a Cubs-Jays interleague matchup "highly hypothetical"? Well, it wasn't until this morning that I really bothered to study the Jays' '08 schedule, and guess what I found? Right. June 13-15, the birds will entertain the Cubbies at Rogers Centre. Here's hoping Chicago has a sizeable lead in the NL Central by then, because I'm going to need them to drop all three of those games. Priorities. This idiot does have priorities.

3) Is it wrong of me to feel heartened by the shitstorm kicked up amongst the Blue Jays blogging family by the masterminds' decision to make tickets available to out-of-towners before homers? Because I do feel that way. No question it's a boneheaded move, even if it does make great business sense. In the alchemical equation that yields happy and loyal baseball fans, sometimes the buck counts for less than the heart. Or maybe it's a matter of optics. Whatever; the anger on display by the Drunk Jays Fans, The Tao and over at Hum & Chuck brings home the point that Toronto really does have a core of smart, passionate fans, and that pleases me. It also makes for some damn funny and indignant posts. I don't live in or near the 416, so the move doesn't directly effect me, but it does make the Rogers braintrust seem like a bush league organization.

A Fifth of Litsch

With the prevalence of strict off-season regimes (personal trainers, fancy machines, workout tapes, George Foreman grills), and with most all positions already set for the Jays, the only reason for the bluebirds to bother heading to Dunedin is in order to figure out who the fifth starter will be.

If I know one thing from watching American Idol, it's that tough decisions like this shouldn't be left to the judges, but rather decided by The People. So, what toll free number do I dial to ensure that Jesse Litsch is our number five come Opening Day?

You remember Litsch, the feel-good story of last summer, who came storming out of AA New Hampshire when the big club needed him, looking every bit like a young Mickey Rooney (pictured at right in 1948's The Pride of the FisherCats: The Jesse Litsch Story). Litsch ended up making 20 starts for Toronto in '07, and ending up with a nice 3.81 ERA. The way I see it, Lil' Jesse earned the right to hold onto the fifth spot.

Litsch's competition is pretty much Casey Janssen, who was strong out of the bullpen last year, and the very fragrant Gustavo Chacin, who didn't really do anything in his injury-marred campaign. I think there are more questions than answers surrounding the practitioner of perfumery, and Janssen ought to stay in the bullpen, says I, so that Toronto's starters can continue to enjoy the relative certainty of held leads when they have to leave before the late innings. Problem is, word has it that the Rogers suits want Casey in the rotation. Gibbons, meanwhile, has let it be known that he thinks like I do (as do the Ghostrunners, bless their souls). Who will prevail?

The Drama in Dunedin all gets underway in less than two weeks. Hey, at least it'll give us a reason to pay attention. Otherwise we'd be subjected to an endless stream of speculation on Vernon's shoulder ("Sore, or just a bit achy?" "Tight?" "Eighty percent? Ninety? A hundred and ten?"). Besides, maybe the competition will be good for the young'un.