Successful, Amusing, and Awesome Failures

The Common Man's not going to lie, after a long and busy day at the new gig (and not wanting to anger the new overlords by blogging in the office), and choir practice tonight, The Common Man doesn't have it in his heart to throw down with anything resembling a lengthy, engaging argument. But given that the benevolent Rob Neyer drove boku traffic to The Common Man's realm on Monday (and thanks to Lar at Wezen-ball for attracting Rob's all-seeing eye),
The Common Man feels inspired to keep giving. So in celebration of a terrific couple days here at TCM.com, here's a bunch of awesomeness:

-Speaking of Lar, that man seems to have an unending list of fascinating questions. His latest is, by far, the most interesting to date. Lar's search for a twin holy grails of baseball was, spoiler alert, ultimately unsuccessful in that no two games proved remotely identical. But his brilliant idea, execution, and explanation made the trip entirely worthwhile. And The Common Man can't wait to hear about more adventures with the Retrosheet database, and will gladly ride along as Sancho again.


-Speaking of quixotic quests, Gary Matthews Jr received permission to leave Angels came for a day after learning he was being demoted to the team's 5th outfielder. He was presumably off looking for his lost talent (or, perhaps more accurately, luck).

Anyway, his AWOL adventures led to the following IM debate between The Common Man and loyal reader, commenter, and occasional guest poster Bill:

TCM: I love that Gary Matthews essentially needed a personal day because he didn't see the writing on the wall
Bill: heh. yeah
TCM: umm...Gary? everybody was saying the same thing last year, and you haven't gotten any better and you didn't need a day off then
Bill: right
Bill: so the Pierre deal has to be considered worse than the Mathews one, doesn't it?
TCM: Matthews: .242 .319 .357, 77 OPS+ last year
Pierre: .283 .327 .328, 72
given position, yeah I'd say you're right but it's closer than I'd have thought
Bill: I guess I'm thinking from the perspective of the time they were made. Both have pretty much been zeroes since. But Mathews was coming off an all-star year. The BABIP data and all of that would've told you it wouldn't happen again, but at least it happened. Juan Pierre had lucky-empty-batting-averaged his way to two good years three years BEFORE the one he signed in, and had been consistently terrible in the two seasons between that and the contract. And Mathews was (wrongly, apparently) perceived as a good CF, while Pierre's defensive shortcomings were well known
TCM: you're probably right that the idea was worse to sign Pierre but the outcome has been the same and ultimately, that's what we tend to be judged on
Bill: I mean, they were both terrible signings at the time. But the Pierre one was shoot-yourself-in-the-head terrible, while the Mathews one was only you'll-never-work-in-this-town-again terrible
TCM: I suppose I have trouble distinguishing between degrees of terrible. When something is terrible, it simply shouldn't be...case in point: the new Knight Rider and, um...yogurt flavored Pepsi. Both bad ideas for different reasons but it doesn't change the fact that neither should exist
TCM: I should point out I'm talking about the contracts, not the people I have no problem with the existence of either Juan Pierre or Gary Matthews Jr
Bill: that's an important distinction
TCM: right, I don't want to take away their right to exist. just their right to exist in an undeserved opulent lifestyle of self-delusion I wish someone would sell them on the idea of flood-proof furniture

-That last joke (which you probably didn't get) would have been funnier if you had read Pablo Torre's fascinating article in this last week's Sports Illustrated, where he recounted the reasons professional athletes end up on the skids. Torre reports,

• By the time they have been retired for two years, 78% of former NFL players have gone bankrupt or are under financial stress because of joblessness or divorce.

• Within five years of retirement, an estimated 60% of former NBA players are broke.

• Numerous retired MLB players have been similarly ruined, and the current economic crisis is taking a toll on some active players as well.

Because athletes tend to be painfully ignorant of financial systems, overly trusting of friends and family members (many of whom mean well) who care for their money or have "investment opportunities" to share, have high rates of divorce (especially after their playing careers end), and far too eager to own businesses rather than invest in mutual funds or common stock they are vulnerable to rapid financial decline when their careers end (and sometimes before). Perhaps the best story Torre spins is the shortest, and comes from Matthews' teammate (and replacement), Torii Hunter:

"About five years ago, Hunter says, he invested almost $70,000 in an invention: an inflatable raft that would sit under furniture. The pitch was that when high-rainfall areas were flooded, consumers could pump up the device, allowing a sofa to float and remain dry."

What would happen when the sofa reached the ceiling is, of course another matter. But The Common Man kind of would root for the couch to find its way out of the house somehow. He would love to watch Torii Hunter shoot the rapids in his La-Z-Boy, wouldn't you? It's amazing this didn't catch on. If anything could cheer up those poor people along the Red River, it's Torii paddling by on a Hide-a-bed.

-Finally, to celebrate Rob Neyer's visit, and those of you who followed the gentle song of his pipe, The Common Man feels like something needs to get blown up. After all, it's been a while since there's been a good explosion around here. In the spirit of things, however, The Common Man has found the following Mythbusters clip, where Adam and Jaime try to knock the cover off a ball. The Common Man thinks this will suffice:

Moose Hunting

Lar's retrospective on the career of Mike Mussina yesterday on wezen-ball, ended on an interesting note:

"The last eight years of his career, though, which he spent on the Yankees, were not nearly as good as his first. Whether this is a product of his complacency after signing a big contract, or a result of the pressure of pitching in New York City, or just a natural result of his aging (after all, he didn't sign with the Yankees until he was 32), it's hard to say. It is clear that those Yankees years were not up to the standard that he set for himself in Baltimore, and that seems to be the main reason that some people don't remember him as being great."

That stuck in The Common Man's craw, and he started to wonder what, if anything, happened to Mussina during the move from The Charm City to The Big Apple. Now, The Common Man should preface this by saying that he is not a number cruncher by trade, and that some of the conclusions here may be rough. He leaves it to those with better resources and more time at their disposal (or just to the peanut gallery of armchair bloggers) to figure out if The Common Man is on to something here. All statistics were derived from that trustiest of trusty sites, baseballreference.com.

Here are Mussina's rate stats for his time as an Oriole and a Yankee:

Orioles ERA: 3.53
Yankees ERA: 3.88

Orioles K/9: 6.9
Yankees K/9: 6.2

Orioles BB/9: 2.1
Yankees BB/9: 1.8

Orioles HR/9: .94
Yankees HR/9: .96

As you'd expect, the raw data seems to indicate that Lar is right. Moose's ERA is a third of a run higher as a Yankee, and his declining strikeout and walk rates seem to indicate a pitcher who's compensating for a loss of velocity. In addition, the relative stability of his homerun rate could be a result of moving from a good homerun park (Oriole Park at Camden Yards) to a more difficult one (Yankee Stadium). Like most pitchers, as he aged Mike Mussina had to survive by pitching more to contact.

And given the state of the Yankees defense, perhaps this was exactly the wrong time for Mussina to have to make this adjustment. In his prime, up the middle in Baltimore, Mussina had Ripkens (plural), Harold Reynolds, Mike Devereaux, Robbie Alomar, Brady Anderson, and Mike Bordick, all players with excellent defensive repuations. Meanwhile, as a Yankee, he's had Soriano, Jeter, Miguel Cairo, an aging Bernie Williams, Robinson Cano, Johnny Damon, and Melky Cabrera. Defense has not been a hallmark of the Yankees of late, and Mussina's shift in pitching strategy seemed destined to lead to more basehits.

Indeed, if one crunches the defensive numbers, Mussina's Orioles allowed a .293 average on balls in play, while his Yankees allowed a .298 batting average. As Mussina's strike out rate dropped, one would assume that this more porous defense would affect his overall performance even greater. And indeed Mussina gave up 8.5 hits/9 as an Oriole, but 9.1 as a Yankee. And given how many Baltimore singles may have ended up as New York gappers, perhaps it's not a stretch to say that the majority of Mussina's problems in New York were caused by the disappointing defense playing behind him, rather than the attrition of his ability (during which he maintained a respectable K/9).

The case is, of course, far from proven. There's significant noise in that data and a lot of logical leaps that The Common Man made. Perhaps as Mussina gets closer to his enshrinement in the Hall of Fame, others can do some of the heavier lifting, and demonstrate just how effective Moose remained in the Yankee years, and how deserving he is of baseball's highest honor. In the meantime, since it seems to bring you people back in droves (and The Common Man does love droves), here's Mike Mussina's Strat-o-Matic card from his fabled 1992 season (18-5, 2.54 ERA, 48 BB, 16 HR, 130 K in 241 IP, and a 157 ERA+):


As you can see, Mussina has a pronounced reverse platoon split. He allows fewer hits and less power to lefties (in his real season, lefties managed to hit just .220/.269/.280 off Moose, with just one homer in 459 plate appearances), has a strong ability to induce the double play (any grounder with an A next to it is a DP), and can go deep into games (8 innings without tiring). He even holds runners well, automatically decreasing their chances of stealing second by 15% (the hold -3 rating). In all, this is what The Common Man dreams about at night, when he thinks about the perfect pitcher. And only 23!

Fallout Boy

The Common Man wrote last week about his love of Balboni and of his induction into and fascination with the Strat-o-Matic realm. It inspired him to throw a couple of teams together and play a game or two. The terms were simple, The Common Man simply had to find each player interesting. Perhaps they were very good. Perhaps terrible. Perhaps still active or recently retired. Perhaps they end up on The Common Man's television these days, bloviating about the game they used to play. Or perhaps, like Balboni, they were just fun. Each team had 22 man rosters (with three starting pitchers each, since The Common Man didn't know how many of these he'd end up wanting to play), but only the starting nine hit for either team. Here's how they were constructed:

The visiting team
1992 Pat Listach, 2B (.290/.352/.349
1992 Deion Sanders, RF (.304/.346/.495)
1990 Harold Baines, DH (.284/.378/.441)
1992 Matt Williams, 3B (.227/.286/.384)
1990 Eric Anthony, LF (.192/.279/.351
1992 Brian Harper, C (.307/.343/.410)
1992 Sammy Sosa, CF (.260/.317/.393)
1990 Steve Balboni, 1B (.192/.291/.406, of course he made the cut)
1990 Ozzie Guillen, SS (.279/.312/.341)

1990 Nolan Ryan, SP (13-9, 3.44, 137 H, 74 BB, 232 K in 204 IP)

The home team
1992 Paul Molitor, DH (.320/.389/.461)
1990 Robbie Alomar, SS (.287/.340/.381)
1990 Ken Griffey, Jr., CF (.300/.366/.481)
1990 Kevin Maas, 1B (.252/.367/.535)
1990 Gary Sheffield, 3B (.294/.350/.421)
1992 Shane Mack, LF (.315/.394/.467)
1992 Mickey Tettleton, C (.238/.379/.469)
1990 Rob Deer, RF (.209/.313/.432)
1990 Jose Oquendo, 2B (.252/.350/.316)

1990 John Smoltz, SP (14-11, 3.85, 206 H, 90 BB, 170 K, in 231.3 IP)

It looked like it should be a bloodbath. Smoltz's team clearly had the offensive advantage, and was not terrible in the field either, with Griffey, Mack, Deer, Sheffield, and Oquendo. But, of course, baseball is a funny game, and Strat-o-Matic can be even funnier. Nolan Ryan pitched a 2-hit shutout and won 3-0, striking out 11 and walking 6. And of those 11, only one was Rob Deer (Mack and Maas went down three times each, and Tettleton twice). Ryan's dominance shouldn't be that big of a surprise, as he was facing a lineup that was prone to the K, and he was the ultimate strikeout pitcher.


Smoltz's shortcoming was the longball in this contest, as he surrendered a solo shot each to Baines and to Balboni (long live Steve Balboni!). Balboni's was particularly surprising, given his troubles against RHP. But a 5-4 roll meant that Smoltz was vulnerable, and the 20-sided die did not roll his way.


Smoltz did manage to strike out 12 batters in eight innings, before giving way to Nasty Boy and mouth-breather Rob Dibble (circa 1990), who struck out the side in the 9th (four of the victorious visiting team's 15 K's were from Sosa).

The second game featured the same lineups, with 1990 Oil Can Boyd going for the visitors (10-6, 2.93, 164 H, 52, BB, 113 K in 190.7 IP) and 1990 Greg Maddux (15-15, 3.46, 242 H, 71 BB, 144 K in 237 IP) for the homers. It has always struck The Common Man that Strat-o-Matic (and Diamond Mind, for that matter) perpetually undervalues certain pitchers for reasons that defy comprehension. As he replayed the late 1920s and early 1930s, for instance, on DMB, Lefty Grove consistently underperformed his real stats. Maddux similarly seems to struggle in Strat-o-Matic, perhaps because his pinpoint control and ability to generate weak contact is mitigated by the hitters' cards he is forced up against. Because of the nature of Strat-o-Matic, pitchers are just as likely to affect the outcome of an at bat as a hitter (because the odds of the results being drawn from the pitcher and hitter cards is split evenly). But perhaps certain pitchers are more likely to control the outcome of hitters' at bats than others, particularly those with pinpoint control and wicked movement, like Maddux.


Or maybe it's all been the luck of the roll. The Common Man would be interested in hearing what others' experiences are with the Mad Dog.

In this game, true to form, Maddux struggled, walking 4 and scattering seven hits through seven innings, but only let in three runs. Oil Can, on the other hand, was beaten around Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, giving up five runs in five innings of work.

Anyway, The Common Man has no idea when and if he'll play more of these games. But as these things tend to go, The Common Man will undoubtedly get his inner 13-year old up and make a couple more squads to battle on the basement floor (much to the amusement of The Uncommon Wife, who descended the stairs to find her husband sitting cross-legged on the floor, hunched over a board and a mess of cards, rolling some dice and keeping score like he was at the Metrodome. She ascended them laughing hysterically, after he told her Steve Balboni had just hit a home run, but that Nolan Ryan pitched a two-hitter.). He realizes that you may have no real interest in this phenomenon (too bad for you). But as long as the results were fresh and the outcomes interesting (and real games haven't started yet), he thought he'd share that his discussion last week has manifested itself in strange and peculiar ways. Now The Common Man promises to leave you alone about fictional baseball games being played in his house. Instead, he'll bring back some of the more interesting cards he finds, now and again, in an effort to highlight the very great, very bad, and otherwise noteworthy players in the box. And if you have any interesting cards to share, feel free to scan them in and send them The Common Man's way via the email address to the right. He'll be happy to pass along your finds to the rest of the class.

What-o-Matic?

A while back, The Common Man talked about getting to meet Steve "Bye-bye" Balboni, a mustachioed hulk-of-a-man who manned first base and designated hitter for the Royals in the mid '80s, before moving on to the Mariners and Yankees. While The Common Man has long been an admirer of the soup strainer, Balboni has particularly fascinated The Common Man since 1991, when The Common Boy received his first version of the Strat-o-Matic Baseball board game for his birthday. The box contained (and still contains, you don't think The Common Man threw the single greatest present he ever go as a child away, did you?) a cardboard playing field, little pieces to represent baserunners, three dice (one white and two red), and two sets of pick cards numbered from 1-20 (which The Common Man quickly replaced with a 20-sided di (suck it, cool kids, The Common Man totally had a 20-sided di. Thankfully, he did not complicate his social awkwardness further by playing D&D.)) Also, there were several complicated looking charts and 800 individual player cards from the 1990 season.

Using these cards, like with the amazing Diamond Mind Baseball of today, the 13-year old Common Boy could replay entire seasons and make the players perform just as they did in the pros. Of these cards, The Common Man's favorite was undoubtedly Balboni's. In 1990, Balboni got into 116 games for the Yankees, hitting .192/.291/.406, with 17 homers in just 307 plate appearances. That he garnered just 34 RBI only adds to the delightful all-or-nothingness of his season. Indeed, fully one-third of his hits were homers that year. He had just 6 doubles. And scored a total of 24 runs (meaning other players knocked him home just 7 times. And he struck out 91 times, or once every 3.37 times up. Because of this, and because of his massive platoon split (.162/.205/.267 vs. RHP, .211/.340/.497 vs. LHP), Balboni's card was a thing of beauty:


Veteran players will note how feeble Balboni looks against RHP, with virtually no chance to get on board. Against lefties, however, Balboni is a monster, with seven different places he can hit the ball out. The odds of that are complicated, however, related to the likelihood of a specific dice combination coming up. Still, the all-or-nothing approach Balboni showed that season meant that every at-bat he got on the floor of The Common Man's bedroom or the family room coffee table was an adventure.

From 1990 and 1992 (the only two seasons The Common Man can find), here are some of the other great all-or-nothing cards from the game. First, from 1990, here's Orioles 1B Sam Horn, a monster of a man who never really rose to prominence because he couldn't hit LHP (and couldn't field):


Look how bereft of good things his left-side columns are. Indeed, the best he can muster is a sac fly. Against righties he feasts, with several opportunities to do big damage. A Horn/Balboni platoon in 1990 would have been a great thing indeed. That year, amazingly, Horn totaled 280 plate appearances (his second highest total ever. Only 17 of those came against LHP. Horn hit .248/.332/.472 that year, with 14 homers. But, having never caught on, he'll have to be content with inspiring a terrific message board and a great story from Shyster.

1990 was also the year of Kevin Maas, another all-or-nothing, lefty first baseman in the AL East. Maas played for the Yankees that year, and became the fastest player ever to 10, and then to 20 homers in his career. But by September of that year, teams had found the holes in Maas's swing and his production was (forgive The Common Man), no Maas. Still, in 300 PAs in 1990, Maas hit .252/.367/.535, good for a 150 OPS+, with 21 homers. His card was awfully fun too:


One slugger who managed to have extended success was Cecil Fielder, whose 1990 stands out in an era of relatively low offensive production. Back from Japan, Fielder pasted the ball that summer, good for .277/.377/.592 (a 167 OPS+), 51 homers, and this card:


But among these all-or-nothing allstars, Fielder stands out as one of the few truly productive players (well, he and Rob Deer). Eric Anthony was a lot less lucky. Billed as a huge prospect by the Astros, Houston fans were understandably disappointed by his performance when he was rushed to the majors. So was The Common Man, every time Anthony came up in either 1990 or 1992:


That's pretty brutal, but the Astros somehow managed to ship him to Seattle and get Mike Hampton in the deal, so it wasn't too bad a bargain.

There are more cards The Common Man wants to share, but he's unsure how this post will be received, how much additional explanation of the game and what the cards mean will be necessary, and doesn't want any of the cards (or players) to not get their due because The Common Man just kept putting out card after card. So he'll close here with just one more. Because this list wouldn't be complete without acknowledging the greatest all-or-nothing, three-true-outcomes slugger of them all, Ken Phelps, who finished his 11 year career in 1990 in less than spectacular fashion with the Oakland A's and Cleveland Indians, as you can see:


Alas, a .150/.280/.192 line doesn't use as much black ink as it used to. But it still apparently gets you a bushy, bushy mustache and some comically oversized glasses.

Random Thursday: Red Murff

This week’s lucky random man is Red Murff, a relief pitcher at the major league level who got into 26 games for the Milwaukee Braves from 1956-1957. Murff was a minor league legend in the Texas League in the early 1950s, and compiled a 114-71 record across six minor league seasons before being called up in ’56. In 1955, Murff was named The Sporting News Minor League Player of the Year, after going 27-11 for the Dallas Eagles, with a 1.99 ERA in 303 IP (including a 19.7 of those innings in a single game, a 3-2 loss to the Texarcana Bears). The next year, the Braves purchased him from the New York Giants and made him a rookie at 35 years old. He worked as a mop-up man (the team was 1-13 in games in which Murff appeared), and rarely pitched in any meaningful situations. The next year, Red was used heavily in the early goings, getting into 14 games before the end of May. In his last 6 outings, however, Murff gave up 12 runs and was sent back to the minors from whence he came. Pitching for the Witchita Braves that year, Red went 11-9 with a 3.63 ERA. But his former club went on to best the Yankees in the World Series, behind the amazing performance of Lew Burdette (3-0, 3 CGs (games 2, 5, 7), 0.27 ERA). Murff would never get back, and never really contributed meaningfully during his playing career at all. But what sets Murff apart is what he did after his career was over.

For without Murff, two of the greatest hurlers in baseball's great history may not have even made it to the big stage. After his playing days were done, Murff became a well-respected minor-league coach and manager, and is generally credited (according to his obituaries, anyway) with giving Phil Niekro the confidence to throw his knuckleball in game situations. Knucksie, of course, won 318 games in his Hall of Fame career, and his success inspired his brother to follow suit and win 221. Of course, it's difficult to know exactly what kind of role Murff actually played in Niekro's career (without reading Phil's biography Knuckle Balls, which you can buy online for as little as $.72, that is), but for now The Common Man will take that at face value (until his copy of the book gets here).

After coaching, Murff went into scouting, where he discovered and signed a young Texas right-hander named Nolan Ryan. In his Hall of Fame induction speech, Ryan singled the former pitcher out, saying "He thought when he saw me at 6-foot-2 and 140 pounds, he wasn't discouraged by my build and by the way I threw the baseball as many other scouts were. And I appreciate the fact that Red spent so much time with me and worked to help me become a better pitcher. Thank you, Red." The Ryan Express finished up with 324 wins, 5714 strikeouts, and 7 no-hitters.

So, while Red Murff may not have done much worth noting while he played the game, he is proof positive that even the shortest careers can leave an indelible mark on baseball, forever altering its history. Indeed, while Murff was only directly responsible for a 2-2 record and 31 strikeouts in 50.3 innings of work (and a 4.65 ERA), if we look at his larger impact, we can indirectly credit him with 644 wins and 9087 strikeouts in 10,840.7 innings in 53 seasons (and a 3.27 ERA). Indeed, if we generously credit him for Joe Niekro's work as well, he's good for 865 wins and 10,834 strikeouts in 14,424.7 innings pitched in 75 seasons (and a 3.35 ERA). Not to mention any additional innings, wins, and Ks that come out of Lance Niekro, who's getting the chance to reinvent himself as a knuckleballer just because he's Joe's son and Phil's nephew. Not a bad legacy.

Sadly, John Robert "Red" Murff passed away in November of last year at the age of 87. But his stamp on the game endures.

The Unusual Suspect

What the hell? There have been questions about Jose Tabata's motivation and overall makeup before, and that's one of the central reasons the Bucs were able to pry him away in the Xavier Nady deal last year. But I'm not sure anyone would have pointed to "being tangentially associated with a kidnapping in Florida" was on the list of possible outcomes. At this point, after all the injuries, missteps, and now general weirdness that has happened to their prospects in the past ten years, if a giant piece of Skylab fell from the heavens and killed everyone at their minor league camp, The Common Man would not bat an eye.

Sadness, Awesomeness, Random Awesomeness in Video Form

-First and most importantly, The Common Man is very saddened to learn of the death of John Brittain, one of the driving forces behind The Hardball Times as well as other sites. John has been a terrific source of snark regarding the business of baseball (stadium deals in particular), and was continually frustrated by his beloved Blue Jays. Maury Brown, at The Biz of Baseball has a wonderful post up about the man, his struggles, his spirit, and his talent. Condolences to John's wife and daughters, and though The Common Man never met him, I feel like I've lost a friend.

-The Common Man has spent the day convelescing and recovering from a nasty virus (thanks to The Boy starting daycare full-time) and an awesome WBC Championship game that went deep into the wee hours the night before. Really, The Common Man could watch 162 straight South Korea vs. Japan games and be a happy man. The two teams play so fluidly, and seem to really match up to one another well. It was a thrilling contest from beginning to end, and it's 4 hours flew by.

-In particular, the sublime 5th inning featured remarkable moment after moment. After leading off the top half with a walk and a single off of former MLBer Jung Bong (still one of the greatest names of all time), Japan looked poised to break the game open. But Hyun Wook Jong came in and fired gas at the Japanese, striking out Kenji Johjima, then getting a strike-out/throw-out double play with Michihiro Ogasuwaru at the plate to get out of the jam. Shin-Soo Choo homered to deep left-center to lead off the bottom half against Hisashi Iwakuma and tied the score, amping up the intensity of the contest to 11. And when Young Min Ko looked to ignite the Koreans further by stretching a single, Japanese leftfielder Seiichi Uchikawa made one of the best all-around outfield plays The Common Man had ever seen. Getting quickly to the ball down the LF line, Uchikawa slid to cut the ball off, back-handed it, popped up, and unloaded a strike to second base. The throw, if The Common Man is being honest, was just a hair late. But the play was close enough that the runner was called out, made possible by a beautiful effort. The Common Man can't find video of the play to embed, but has a link that you can use here.

-Of course, the next inning, The Common Man thought Korean CF Yong-Kyu Lee was dead after he was caught trying to steal second. As you can see in the above video, Lee's helmet crumples against the Japanese shortstop's knee, and then explodes. The force with which Lee must have been moving was incredible, and it's lucky he didn't suffer a severe head or spinal injury. Hell, Corey Koskie fell down two years ago, and he still can't get on the field (a story that made The Common Man exceedingly sad, by the way).

-That The Common Man has to wait another four years to watch the Japanese and Koreans go at it full-tilt is incredibly disappointing. The three year cycle seemed more proper to The Common Man, especially if Major League Baseball wants to build on the momentum of what has been a wildly successful Classic.

-Oh sure, The Common Man has heard and read the complaints from bloggers and pundits who decry the WBC and its flaws. Indeed, the timing proved somewhat troublesome, with the final three games falling on the first weekend of the NCAA Basketball Tournament. And perhaps Americans didn't fall quite as in love with its nationalist nature as Bud Selig and Tommy Lasorda were hoping. But its successes, which far outweigh the failures, suggest that tweaking the format and timing is better than drastically revamping the formula.

One of the most frustrating things to deal with is the notion that something you may enjoy, or want very much to enjoy, is not actually intended for you. This is something that the American media seems to miss about the WBC. Hey, Jason Stark! Sorry you can't get into the tourney, dude, and that's nice that you've got your own special proposal all ready to go. But dude, this tournament is not supposed to cater to you. Or to The Common Man. Or to the average Red Sox fan. It's aim is global, not local.

Rather than laud it for what it does (spread goodwill toward the game and MLB internationally, make gobs of money internationally, provide a more exciting and popular alternative spectacle to Spring Training that fans can watch nationally (as opposed to sporadic local broadcasts of spring exhibitions), provide live sports in a relatively dead time in the professional sporting calendar, and (perhaps) provide a showcase for potential future major leaguers), columnists and bloggers and talking-heads pick it apart because it isn't as good as the regular season or because there is no absolutely perfect time to play it or because there is a chance that their stars will get hurt (as if Chipper's oblique strain wasn't likely to result from working out with his Braves, given the aches and pains he's developed in recent years) in something so low as an exhibition (and what, pray tell, are Spring Training games???).

Look, The Common Man is not saying the tournament doesn't need some tweaks. But before anybody starting talking about altering the fundamental structure of the tournament, keep in mind how incredibly profitable it has been (in every sense of the word), and how baseball has been able to pull this off without significantly angering any of the other professional leagues who could short-circuit their efforts. Indeed, as Japan and Korea have proved, a WBC without them would not be legitimate. Attendance was up. Television ratings were way up. International television ratings were Super Bowl-esque. All The Common Man is saying is that it can take time to build a fan base for something so awesome. Lest America not learn the lessons of Firefly, an awesome show doomed before its time because many viewers (and Fox executives) didn't get it right away, it will be doomed to repeat the mistakes of Firefly. Let this grow and flourish and America will come around...eventually.

-Speaking of tweaking the formula, the drama of this last game was incredibly high, and much of that comes from the semi-finals and finals being single-elimination rounds. Now, The Common Man appreciated the extra tension, but after spending the first two rounds acknowledging that any pitcher can have a bad (or exceptional) game, and that a single loss shouldn't kill a team's chances by making each of the stanzas double-elimination, it's odd that these last three games had so much riding on them. Again, The Common Man loved the games, but thinks the teams and tournament would have been better served by giving the losing squads a final second chance (or at least making the semi-finals a best-two-of-three affair). Sure, the US and Venezuela may have ended up kicking the ball around the field like they did in their semi-final games this time around, but at least the result would appear more legitimate.

-Finally, speaking of things The Common Man enjoyed watching, feast on the following video by one of The Common Man's elementary school friends. Remember, it's Charades, not Tell Me What I'm Thinking!