December 31, 1972

The illusion that lures us into the error of confounding Clemente's goodness as a man with his greatness as a ballplayer is that when a man is playing baseball well, as when a man is writing well, he seems to himself, in that moment, to be a better person than he really is. He puts it all together, he has all the tools, in a way that is impossible outside the lines of the ball field or the margins of the page. He shines, and we catch the reflected glint, and extend the shining one a credit for overall luminosity that almost nobody could merit. Clemente, I think, did; he shone with the grace and integrity of his play even when he was not on the field.

- Michael Chabon

Reed Off Leadoff

Reed Johnson knows that Reed Johnson won't be the Jays' leadoff man this year, barring something unforeseen, like Eckstein slipping between the cracks of a sewer grate. But Reed Johnson is okay with that, because Reed Johnson is a team player. "I'm not frustrated," Reed Johnson says. "We're trying to make our team better. Any time J.P. has an opportunity to make an upgrade at a spot, he's going to do that. He's basically made an upgrade at the leadoff spot, and that's the decision that they've gone with. I'm going to do my best to fill in wherever they want me."

Translation: Reed Johnson is not a selfish man.

Whether he's being sincere or just swallowing his pride and saying what's expected of him even though he wants that leadoff spot and starting LF job more than life itself, it's gratifying to know that there probably won't be any strife originating from that platoon situation, and that wherever Reed Johnson is put in the order, he'll do what he can to contribute.

I like Reed because, barring the unfortunate chin adornment, Reed's pretty nice to look at on the field, from a uniform perspective anyway. The high socks, the baggy pants, the frequently grass-stained uni. Very nice. The uniwatchers approve. Also, whereas I already dug me some Reed, he endeared himself even more to the Bottom of the Order braintrust last year when, in his first game back from injury, he made a flat-out, game saving catch in the ninth to secure Doc's victory in the only Jays game I was able to attend last year (it was also my infant daughter's first full major league game). It looked pretty damn good from up in the 500s.

But here are the guys over at The Southpaw suggesting that the Jays forsake Reed and the Canadian guy in favour of another Canadian guy (admittedly a guy with a career 130 OPS+, who comes relatively cheap to boot). Their caveat is if the Jays find themselves in contention come the deadline, then they should consider acquiring Bay, bearing in mind Godfrey's past comments about the bankability of a Canadian-born star. Here's my question: without a hefty contribution from that LF platoon - Stairs and Johnson, with a side of Lind and possibly some Scutaro - can the Jays find themselves in contention? And if those guys are contributing, will Bay prove to be worth what the Pirates will be asking in return?

Well, probably, yes. Like I said, I like Reed. But Jason Bay is a better player, without question. But Reed being Reed, he'd probably be alright with Bay's addition, and the decreased playing time that would come with it (assuming he's not a part of any package designed to land the Pirate). After all, Reed Johnson is "going to do my best to fill in wherever they want me."

Atta' boy, Reed Johnson.

God Bless the People of Pittsburgh

Fire Joe Morgan hits one into the Allegheny with this post in response to a truly bizarre piece comparing Pirates fans to... well, just read it. Go ahead. I'll sit pretty right here until you're done...

Right, so, the point of the original piece by one Mike Seate is that baseball fans compare unfavourably to those of, ahem, superbike racing. I won't deconstruct the argument, because FJM has already done so, and done so better than I could (I can manage concise, and I can sometimes manage funny, and on rare occasions I even nail intelligent, but all three is asking too much of me).

But my point is that, okay, I've been to Pittsburgh and gone to a Pirates game at beautiful PNC Park, and found Bucco fans to be... subdued. I live in Ottawa, and I went to Lynx games for 15 years, so I know subdued. And Pirates fans fit that bill. I found them subdued and, well, sparse.

But think about it: it was September, and the Pirates had been out of contention since (roughly) late April. Again. And as a fanbase they have been, frankly, shit upon by ownership and management for a decade and a half now.

On that afternoon in Pittsburgh, I saw the Pirates lose to the Chicago Cubs. The park was half full, but half of those in attendance were decked out in full Cubbies regalia, a traveling roadshow of folks bleeding Cubbie blue. Cubs fans, who are entering their one hundredth year without a championship, are often cited as the mose diehard, fervent, and knowledgeable baseball fans around.

But. There's an argument to be made, I think, that instead of being the best baseball fans in the world, Cubs fans are Earth's biggest schmucks, shelling out year after year to see a team that never wins when it counts, a team run by a succession of organizations that have little motivation to win because, hell, the fans keep pouring into Wrigley anyway. The flipside of that argument would be that Montreal Expos fans were among the smartest and savviest lovers of baseball anywhere, because they knew when they were being treated poorly, and they rebelled with their wallets and asses (which no longer occupied the Big O's yellow plastic seats, see?).

Viewed in that light, maybe Pirates fans are pretty smart, too. Maybe they're simply fed up; maybe they're saying, "Thanks for the ballpark, but call us when you're actually trying to field a winning team."

I liked Pittsburgh, truly. It seemed to me an interesting city emerging from its industrial past, shaking the coke dust off and stepping smartly into the twenty-first century. I liked its neighbourhoods and its architecture, and its people seemed like good people. I loved imagining Forbes Field filled to the brim, of the mighty Clemente patrolling right field. And PNC is gorgeous - if you like ballparks, you must see it - but too full of ballpark tourists like me, and not enough local, hometown crazies. What I longed to see was a park jammed with rabid fans, with shirtless idiots screaming their faces off, with families and old guys with transistor radios, all cheering on a team with a real chance of winning. Imagine that: NL CENTRAL CHAMPS. That'd make for a different kind of fan, I dare say.