21st Century Schizoid Man
Something I'll remember when, one day, I figure Mark Bellhorn out, is his reaction after his only hit of the game...
Hogwash! The game itself was complete hogwash, and I was about ready to write it off. Our closer, who any objective analysis will indicate is among the league's best, had made one truly bad pitch in his outing, and that pitch rapidly went from bat to air to Lansdowne Street. The fact that he got the next batter to ground out weakly just added to the ridiculousness of the situation. This was a game that we very easily should have bloody won, and we were about to lose it to the Orioles.
There is no team in baseball that I hate more than the Yankees. Let's make that abundantly clear right now. I wish horrible things on them on a daily basis. They occupy every cell in my head devoted to hate, save one. That once other cell is focused ten thousand percent on the Baltimore Orioles.
Ever hear of the expression "Kingmaker"? It's given to the third wheel in any situation, one guy who absolutely cannot win but can choose who does. It's a unique position, and one that is special for the amount of wrath in can earn from the jilted party. This season, the Orioles are the kingmakers of the AL East-rolling over to the Yankees while playing the Red Sox to the bone. Call it Miguel Tejada getting his revenge for the 2003 ALDS, call it Lee Mazilli being on George Steinbrenner's payroll, call it luck, call it whatever you want. It sure sucks.
Because of this, every win against the Orioles is a precious one. These wins must be husbanded carefully from beginning to end; they demand masterful pitching performances from all involved. One slip-up, one four-run inning, and karma will not allow a comeback. You might as well throw in the towel.
For the record, yes, allowing a two-run homerun in the ninth inning with your team up 1-0 is a slip-up. It also should have reminded Red Sox nation of how many time the Orioles have gone quietly in the ninth against that other team south of Boston.
Still, when Kevin Youkilis walked, which he has before and will perhaps a thousand times more, and Bill Mueller doubled, sending Dave "Really Freaking Fast" Roberts to third, the mood could almost be seen to change. Maybe this would be better than an easy ninth! Maybe we could build some character here! An opportunity like this is almost impossible to waste, and...
Oh. Well, that's ok. Damon's coming up, and he's great in big situations, so...
Oh. Huh. Howsabout that?
Mark Bellhorn is the poster boy for those who hope and pray that they are never challenged on their preconceptions of how baseball should be played. He's struck out over 160 times this season, and his average hovers around .260. When he's properly used, those strikeouts are meaningless, but Dusty Baker looked at Mark Bellhorn and told him to swing away. This is what's known as throwing a wrench into the machine.
But he ended up here, where his unique talents were appreciated, and he's been the steadiest player on our offense all season long. It's very easy to predict Mark Bellhorn's at-bats: he will either walk, strike out, double, or hit a home run. Singles and groundouts are scattered like afterthoughts. When he's working like that, if you look at him over a number of games, you start to appreciate what he brings to a team.
When he starts to struggle, however, it's just as easy to start loathing him. Four strikeouts in one game? Two per game for a week? Not cool, Mark! Why can't you swing at the freaking ball, eh? It couldn't hurt you!
We get on Mark Bellhorn because he strikes out a lot during his slumps, but what else can we expect? Everyone slumps! Everyone not named Bonds runs into spaces of time where hitting becomes a mystery and the gift that has brought them into the majors leagues deserts them. This happens to everyone. Mark Bellhorn's slumps feature strikeouts. Big deal.
One time where he doesn't strike out is with runners in scoring position, and he sure as hell didn't strike out here. That I can accept, understand. Most of all, I can quantify it. This is what's supposed to happen.
I wish I could figure out his reaction, though, after he hit the ball. Mark Bellhorn rounded first and charged into second without changing his facial expression. As his teammates celebrated at home plate, he methodically took off his helment and seemed, for a very brief moment, when all other hitters would have been jumping and hollering in joy, at a seperate and whimsical peace.
Then he joined the rest of the Red Sox. I'm sure he smiled in the pileup, but I can't be sure. He's Mark Bellhorn, after all. I still can't figure him out.
Hogwash! The game itself was complete hogwash, and I was about ready to write it off. Our closer, who any objective analysis will indicate is among the league's best, had made one truly bad pitch in his outing, and that pitch rapidly went from bat to air to Lansdowne Street. The fact that he got the next batter to ground out weakly just added to the ridiculousness of the situation. This was a game that we very easily should have bloody won, and we were about to lose it to the Orioles.
There is no team in baseball that I hate more than the Yankees. Let's make that abundantly clear right now. I wish horrible things on them on a daily basis. They occupy every cell in my head devoted to hate, save one. That once other cell is focused ten thousand percent on the Baltimore Orioles.
Ever hear of the expression "Kingmaker"? It's given to the third wheel in any situation, one guy who absolutely cannot win but can choose who does. It's a unique position, and one that is special for the amount of wrath in can earn from the jilted party. This season, the Orioles are the kingmakers of the AL East-rolling over to the Yankees while playing the Red Sox to the bone. Call it Miguel Tejada getting his revenge for the 2003 ALDS, call it Lee Mazilli being on George Steinbrenner's payroll, call it luck, call it whatever you want. It sure sucks.
Because of this, every win against the Orioles is a precious one. These wins must be husbanded carefully from beginning to end; they demand masterful pitching performances from all involved. One slip-up, one four-run inning, and karma will not allow a comeback. You might as well throw in the towel.
For the record, yes, allowing a two-run homerun in the ninth inning with your team up 1-0 is a slip-up. It also should have reminded Red Sox nation of how many time the Orioles have gone quietly in the ninth against that other team south of Boston.
Still, when Kevin Youkilis walked, which he has before and will perhaps a thousand times more, and Bill Mueller doubled, sending Dave "Really Freaking Fast" Roberts to third, the mood could almost be seen to change. Maybe this would be better than an easy ninth! Maybe we could build some character here! An opportunity like this is almost impossible to waste, and...
Oh. Well, that's ok. Damon's coming up, and he's great in big situations, so...
Oh. Huh. Howsabout that?
Mark Bellhorn is the poster boy for those who hope and pray that they are never challenged on their preconceptions of how baseball should be played. He's struck out over 160 times this season, and his average hovers around .260. When he's properly used, those strikeouts are meaningless, but Dusty Baker looked at Mark Bellhorn and told him to swing away. This is what's known as throwing a wrench into the machine.
But he ended up here, where his unique talents were appreciated, and he's been the steadiest player on our offense all season long. It's very easy to predict Mark Bellhorn's at-bats: he will either walk, strike out, double, or hit a home run. Singles and groundouts are scattered like afterthoughts. When he's working like that, if you look at him over a number of games, you start to appreciate what he brings to a team.
When he starts to struggle, however, it's just as easy to start loathing him. Four strikeouts in one game? Two per game for a week? Not cool, Mark! Why can't you swing at the freaking ball, eh? It couldn't hurt you!
We get on Mark Bellhorn because he strikes out a lot during his slumps, but what else can we expect? Everyone slumps! Everyone not named Bonds runs into spaces of time where hitting becomes a mystery and the gift that has brought them into the majors leagues deserts them. This happens to everyone. Mark Bellhorn's slumps feature strikeouts. Big deal.
One time where he doesn't strike out is with runners in scoring position, and he sure as hell didn't strike out here. That I can accept, understand. Most of all, I can quantify it. This is what's supposed to happen.
I wish I could figure out his reaction, though, after he hit the ball. Mark Bellhorn rounded first and charged into second without changing his facial expression. As his teammates celebrated at home plate, he methodically took off his helment and seemed, for a very brief moment, when all other hitters would have been jumping and hollering in joy, at a seperate and whimsical peace.
Then he joined the rest of the Red Sox. I'm sure he smiled in the pileup, but I can't be sure. He's Mark Bellhorn, after all. I still can't figure him out.
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