Father's Day Is Best With Baseball Included
PLUS: WILL EXPANDED PLAYOFFS SUFFOCATE THIS YEAR'S TRADE MARKET?
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Reader Reacts
“I don’t think Chuck Klein qualifies as ‘well-traveled.’ He played 15 of his 19 seasons for the Phillies and set his total-base records with them. He spent his other years with the Cubs and had a brief stop with the Pirates.”
— Russ Walsh, The Faith of a Phillies Fan blog
[From the editor: Anyone who looks at Chuck Klein’s record can see that he was indeed ‘well-traveled.’ Though he did spent most of his seasons in Philadelphia, he had four different stints with the Phils and actually wore a dozen different numbers during his Hall of Fame career.]
Pregame Pepper
Did you know…
During their main two-way seasons, the pitching records of Babe Ruth (22-12, 2.55) and Shohei Ohtani (27-11, 2.53) were almost identical . . .
Unlike Ruth, however, Ohtani has never played for a winning team . . .
Jacob deGrom, who had first Tommy John surgery in 2010, was an All-Star four times with the Mets but made only 26 starts in his last two seasons there because of various physical issues . . .
Who but the visionary Tampa Bay Rays could have predicted that journeyman Zach Eflin would have blossomed into one of baseball’s biggest winners this season? . . .
Outspoken Mets manager Buck Showalter blames the World Baseball Classic for shortstop Francisco Lindor’s slow start, saying starting serious competitive play in February is different than starting it in April . . .
A year after smashing an AL-record 62 homers, Aaron Judge led the league again with 19 in 49 games before he collided with the Dodger Stadium wall and landed on the IL ..
Fellow Yankee DJ LeMahieu, the former batting champ, isn’t picking up the slack, with a 9-for-59 streak (.153) over 15 games through Tuesday . . .
Erstwhile All-Star southpaw Nelson Cortes of the Yankees took a season’s ERA of 5.16 to the Injured List with a strained shoulder . . .
Cy Young Award contender Gerrit Cole, yet another Yankee stud, has expressed frustration at his inability to retire Red Sox third baseman Rafael Devers.
Leading Off
“Fathers + Sons = Baseball”
By Dan Freedman
Tomorrow is Father’s Day, which is always frantic for me as my daughters leave for camp but my sisters live in different directions, so we always want to make sure every dad in the family has his day.
Last year on Father’s Day, I flew to Chicago and took in a game with my youngest. It was such a pleasure, but also twinged with guilt, as I wasn’t with the rest of my kids or my dad. If I had my druthers, we all would have been at Wrigley that day.
Towards the end of the classic film Field of Dreams, the reclusive author Terence Mann, played by the grizzled and wizened James Earl Jones, says to Kevin Costner’s Ray Kinsella: “The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball.”
I work in the movie business and deal with writers, directors, and actors all the time. And, for my money, for my life, never have truer words been uttered on-screen.
For me, throughout all my 50+ years, baseball has been the one constant. It is my bedrock and my north star, my hobby, and my obsession. But, more importantly, baseball is -– if not the foundation, then at least the backbone -– upon which my relationships with my father and with my son have been forged and have flourished.
One of my first memories –- from around 1977 –- is standing in an empty Fenway Park in Boston. Our family was in town to visit more family, and my dad slipped a security guard a finsky to let us into the ballpark hours before that night’s game.
My father, a trained and sometimes paid photographer –- a man who would gladly leave home without an American Express card, but not without his camera -– found himself with his son alone in one of the nation’s most hallowed stadiums, without his camera!
In the days before cellular telephones with cameras were in every pocket, we had no way to document that moment. To this day, there is no proof that it happened (my kids say “pix or it didn’t happen”). But it most certainly did.
I have dined out on this story for years –- especially in contrast to our kids, who don’t leave their bedrooms without documenting every step on their phone and via social media. But since we have no photographic evidence of the day, and since memories are an imperfect beast, it is impossible to know all of the details. Which begs the question, does it matter?
The story, my memory, they are foundational to me. They are a moment I shared with my father, in a ballpark, more than 40 years ago. Truth –- to the extent there is just one or to the extent it has been bent by the ravages of time -– is secondary, at best.
And now that I find myself solidly into my sixth decade, with my father strongly – in not a bit more slowly – into his ninth, with my son sprinting through his third, baseball seems to have taken on even greater importance in our collective lives. The sheer number of games we have watched together -– on television, in the stands, or on our respective couches texting back and forth -– is innumerable. Baseball is our lingua franca. Baseball is our shared love.
My grandfather –- that stout man of few words but an iron will –- taught my father about baseball, with a brief pit stop at stickball. My father, in turn, taught me the game, refusing to make an analogous pit stop at t-ball. So, upon having a son of my own, I felt it a familial obligation to teach him the game.
Truth be told, he took to it –- as both a player and as a fan –- considerably more quickly than his forefathers. So now we have three generations who adore the game, who argue about the game, who are fanatical about the game. And who love nothing more than being together, at the game.
A few years back I was fortunate enough to bring my father to his first World Series. The man had lived 77 years, but never attended the Fall Classic. It was Game 3 of the 2018 edition, and we got there early to take in all the pomp and circumstance. Little did we know that we would still be sitting in our seats more than nine hours later. My dad, loving every minute, joked that he got two games in one. We were rooting for the Red Sox, but couldn’t help but cheer when Max Muncy won the game for the Dodgers with a home run in the bottom of the 18th inning.
Two nights later, I brought my son to Game 5, and we watched our beloved Boston team win the World Series together. Players go full careers without winning the World Series, but they have fame and riches to fall back on. Fathers and sons go generations without watching their favorite team win the World Series, with nothing but sorrow and woe to show for it.
For me, to be able to share that moment with my son, after sharing a similar moment with my father, was truly the pinnacle of my being a baseball father and son.
Since that time, I have attended more games with my father and son (both together and apart). In fact, before my boy left for college, we did a Midwest run from Chicago through Cincinnati and Cleveland, and then finished it off with a game down in Anaheim, just to get our fill before he left the nest.
And while my son has been away, I have taken my dad, and his Dodger-loving wife, to games at Chavez Ravine. My dad used to take me to games, but now I live in the liminal space where I now do the taking – I bring my dad and I bring my son – and I love it! Taking them to games is one of the pure pleasures in my life.
A few months back I got a wild idea. My dad had never seen my son’s school, and had not been to Wrigley Field in many years. My son never misses an opportunity for me to visit, or to take him to a game. So off we went to Madison, Wisconsin with a drive down to Chicago to visit the Friendly Confines.
For reasons that are too ineffable to articulate, Wrigley Field is my happy place. I have visited well over 30 major-league parks and all but one of the current stadiums. And when I want some joy, a relaxing time, and just pure happiness, I find my way to the corner of Clark and Addison on the North Side of Chicago. The people in Wrigleyville, the atmosphere outside the stadium, the fans inside, the 7th inning stretch, and “Go Cubs Go” after each Cubbies victory, simply make me smile. So, when afforded the opportunity to share that delight with my father and son (and my daughter as well), I couldn’t pass it up.
Unfortunately, the day we chose was unlike any other I have ever experienced at a Cubs game. We encountered snow flurries on our drive into town, and then braved 41 degrees with a light wind out to right. The sun never came out, and Wrigleyville was muted. The Dodgers beat the Cubs, which was good for our hometown rooting, but it denied us my and my daughter’s favorite after-game song. We needed to rush out to make sure we didn’t miss our flight home, so we didn’t get to enjoy a 10th inning libation at the Cubby Bear. It was quick and dirty at Wrigley. And it was spectacular.
Nothing in life –- including life itself –- is guaranteed. I have learned that lesson the hard way time and again. So it is imperative that we seize the moments, the experiences, that will reside deep in our memory banks for years to come. Feelings of mortality force you to embrace the now; and it is my duty to live those words as much as I write them.
Neither my father nor my son are getting any younger (none of us are). That means that one of them cannot do as much with me as he used to, while the other simply may be less willing. So when you have that constant, that glue, that holds relationships together, you preserve it for as long as possible.
Those constants create common ground, and help find off-ramps and detours when conversations and relationships could otherwise go off the rails. Baseball is that for me –- and for my father and my son.
People who know me know how much I love the game. But with my father and son, it is inherent –- it is part of who we are, part of what we are. Baseball is a language we share, it is a warm blanket in which we wrap each other. For my dad, my son, and me, baseball is, quite simply, home.
I have been a father for more than two decades. My kids make me laugh and make me cry. They swell my heart and fill me with pride, in everything they do. But my true delight is when my son, after all these years, grabs two gloves and a ball, and like Ray Kinsella in the final moments of Field of Dreams asks: “Dad, you wanna have a catch?”
Happy Father’s Day!!
Dan Freedman is the Executive Vice President of Business & Legal Affairs at Lionsgate Films. His writing about baseball stems from his unique (?) perspective on the game, his desire for people to love the game as much as he does, and how the game often relates to life. His musings can be found at www.baseballcraziness.com. Follow him on Twitter @dffreedman or write dffreedman@hotmail.com.
Cleaning Up
Foolish Expansion Of Playoffs Stifles Baseball Trade Market
By Dan Schlossberg
The annual baseball trade deadline used to be a time of excitement and anticipation — especially for contenders and pretenders who thought a clever deal or two would put them in the playoffs.
But say it ain’t so, Joe: now that Major League Baseball has expanded the post-season into a round-robin tournament involving six teams from each league, everybody and his brother won’t deal because he thinks he’s going to reach the promised land.
Only a handful of teams — the Kansas City Royals, Oakland Athletics, Washington Nationals, and Colorado Rockies — can be classified as sellers. That means most of the remaining 26 are buyers, or at least willing to play the hand they’ve holding.
Even if the rosters of the also-rans were stripped bare, that won’t be enough to feed 26 hungry vultures.
As a result, baseball fans can expect a feeding frenzy to rival the last free-agent market.
The Rockies rarely trade but if that changes, they can extract a significant package of prospects for veteran outfielder Charlie Blackmon or even third baseman Ryan McMahon.
Washington, which made headlines last year by swapping former batting champion Juan Soto to San Diego, would love to make major moves but doesn’t have much to dangle unless it offers one of its up-and-coming young pitchers, Josiah Gray or Mackenzie Gore.
Outside of rookie outfielder Brent Rooker, Oakland has even less to offer.
The Kansas City Royals, on the other hand, could be at the epicenter of the trade market because it has plenty of pitching to trade. Hard-throwing lefty reliever Aroldis Chapman, on a one-year, $3.5 million deal, can be had for top minor-leaguers. Ditto closer Scott Barlow and maybe even veteran starter Zack Grienke, who would waive his no-trade clause to land with a contender (maybe even his former team, the Los Angeles Dodgers).
Teams like the Chicago White Sox and St. Louis Cardinals — expected contenders who could crash at any moment — may also have pitching to trade. Look for the Sox to listen on Lucas Giolito and Lance Lynn, two of their starters, and maybe a relief ar or two. The Cards just might move prospective free agent Jack Flaherty, their erstwhile ace.
Every club has needs, with the injuries to New York sluggers Aaron Judge (Yankees) and Pete Alonso (Mets) exposing offenses that collapsed like a house of cards.
Almost everyone needs bullpen help, with closers Josh Hader (Padres) and Kenley Jansen (Red Sox) in demand as two-month rentals because they’re on expiring contracts. The Detroit Tigers, just recovered from a nine-game losing streak, will keep their kids but might move veteran infielder Javy Baez.
In the National League, Cincinnati will field offers for closer Alexis Diaz, who’s pitched like older brother Edwin this season. And San Francisco’s hopes of returning to the top of the NL West could rest with its ability to shake up a lethargic roster.
Both of last year’s World Series teams, the Houston Astros and Philadelphia Phillies, have had more than their share of serious injuries and might do something radical before the Aug. 1 deadline. But they’ll need to find trading partners first.
Here’s hoping the 2023 trade market creates lots of headlines — and much-needed attention for America’s national pastime just as football camps open.
Former AP sportswriter Dan Schlossberg of Fair Lawn, NJ is the author of more than 40 baseball books. He’s signing his latest book, Baseball’s Memorable Misses, in Cooperstown twice next month — on July 6 at the Baseball Hall of Fame’s Bullpen Theater (1-2p) and on July 22 in front of Willis Monie Books on Main Street (11a-2p). He answers emails sent to ballauthor@gmail.com.
Timeless Trivia
“I would give my hypothetical first-born to be the old me again.”
— Struggling Dodgers righty Noah Syndergaard
Kenesaw Mountain Landis, the game’s first commissioner, rode the subway to the Bronx for the opening of the original Yankee Stadium in 1923, saying “No ball fan rides to the game in a cab” . . .
Babe Ruth not only hit the first home run in Yankee Stadium but played the ninth inning of that game in front of 6,000 adoring fans, who came down from the bleachers to stand on the field behind him — and watch him catch a line drive . . .
Former World Series pitching hero Howard Ehmke designed the first infield tarp . . .
Pitching must be in short supply: Phillies righthander Dylan Covey is 7-31 with a 6.63 earned run average in his career . . .
Among the 30 pitchers who had Tommy John surgery this year are former Cy Young Award winner Robbie Ray, young stud Luis Garcia, and vetera German Marquez . . .
Bob Nightengale reports in USA TODAY that Justin Verlander, Jacob deGrom, and Carlos Rodon combined for 12 starts and 66 2/3 innings through June 10 after signing for a combined $433.6 million.
Know Your Editors
HERE’S THE PITCH is published daily except Sundays and holidays. Benjamin Chase [gopherben@gmail.com] handles Monday and Tuesday editions, Elizabeth Muratore [nymfan97@gmail.com] does Wednesday and Thursday, and Dan Schlossberg [ballauthor@gmail.com] edits the weekend editions on Friday and Saturday. Readers are encouraged to contribute comments, articles, and letters to the editor. HTP reserves the right to edit for brevity, clarity, and good taste.