A Fan's Guide to Attending a Ballgame with Your Disinterested Partner

If you follow The Common Man on teh Twitterz, you may have noticed that he and The Uncommon Wife joined good friends Bill of The Daily Something and his lovely and delightful (and highly pregnant) better half at Target Field for the Saturday tilt between the Twins and Braves. It was a stressful game, won when Brooks Conrad executed a perfect squeeze bunt down the third base line that Jose Mijares (and his Rich Garces-esque frame) had no chance to field.


The Twins squandered extra chances to score in their belief that, because they were playing a National League team, they needed to play NL style ball. With Denard “The Nard-Dog” Span on first with no outs in both the 6th and 8th innings, Trevor Plouffe (a less manly name has yet to be applied to any member of the male species), was asked to sacrifice him over. In the 6th, Joe Mauer followed with a double that would have allowed Span to score anyway; then, following an intentional walk to Morneau, the Twins ran themselves out of the inning with a strike-out/throw-out double play, in which the catcher was caught as the lead runner trying to steal 3B. Ugh. Two innings later, Gardy was outmaneuvered again when, after Plouffe’s bunt, Joe Mauer was intentionally walked, Morneau flew out to RF, Cuddyer walked, and Kubel struck out. That’s three outs the Twins gave away with runners on base in a game that ended up being decided by a run. Ugh.

Anyway, this post is not about the game itself, but about the experience of being at the game with a woman (The Uncommon Wife) who doesn’t really care about baseball that much. Call it: your guide to the ballpark with an unenthusiastic partner. Here are some easy dos and don’ts:

Do: make sure your partner has their own hat. This is particularly important on a drizzly day like this past Saturday, or if you’re sitting out in the sun. When your partner’s hair gets too messy or they are getting too much sun, they will usurp your own cap. This will invariably occur in the late innings, when you’re trying to coax a rally out of your hometown nine with a rally cap. Two problems here: 1) this leaves you exposed with hat hair. 2) the rally will fizzle (probably because your manager calls for a sacrifice bunt, and you couldn’t stop him with the amplified brain waves created by your now stolen and refurbished rally cap.

Don’t: let your partner get ahold of your scorecard. Even if they know how to keep score, if your partner is bored, you might come back to this (Click to embiggen. TCM makes no apologies for his non-standard manner of scoring; it's how he was taught by his grandfather and it makes sense to him.):


You’ll note that the umpire for that night’s game was Scotch and there is a “rally whale” (which apparently eats the rally shark) that stretches from the first inning to the fifth. There’s a sad face because the Twins lost. One player is label a “speedy motherfucker” with a circle representing “how his legs looked as he ran around the bases.” Finally, there is a landmine below the list of Twins coaches (more on that below).

Do: encourage your partner to bring a friend, which will allow you to concentrate on the game and your next snarky comments about how, because of injury, the Twins now have the four most redundant players in the majors to mix and match in the infield: Nick Punto, Trevor Plouffe, Brendan Harris, and Matt Tolbert. Gardenhire must be absolutely basking in the good-field/no-hit middle infield goodness.



Don’t: give your partner your wallet when they get up to go to the restroom. They may come back with the monstrous combination of a glass of scotch and a package of cotton candy. Worse, they could make you try the combination. “The sugar melts into the scotch and makes it sweet! It’s the perfect combination!”



Do: find out as much as you can about your partner’s ideas for “improving” the game. For example, The Uncommon Wife wants there to be an alligator pit between the catcher and the umpire. She feels like this will lead to fewer arguments, and more peril. In fact, she is consistently in favor of more peril in baseball. She would like one of the aforementioned landmines to be placed in one stadium every season, just to up the danger of the game. These are generally hilarious, especially those ideas that your partner will believe in most fervently.

Don’t: come back from the concession stand with ice cream when you’ve been asked to get another scotch. Just don’t. (Sorry, dear, but it was after the 7th inning! Stop hitting TCM with your purse, ok?)

Do: make sure your partner fills out an All Star ballot. The Uncommon Wife volunteered to fill one out, and will be here on Wednesday to defend explain her vote.

Don’t: sit directly underneath the organist. Baseball is better with a real organ, don’t get The Common Man wrong, and it’s awesome that TCM and company were sitting directly below her. But that woman doesn’t need any additional questions like, “Do you know how to play ‘Alejandro?’” or “I need some ‘Baby Elephant Walk,’ stat!” It’s bad enough she has to sit in the “pub” (aka a glass box with cement floors and a bar).

Do: have fun

and

Don’t: get too bent out of shape. Baseball is supposed to be a good time, and we all enjoy it in different ways. Some people like inventing convoluted scenarios in which Delmon Young stumbles over a landmine while trying catch a fly ball (really, it wouldn’t hurt too much, given his defense).
Some begrudgingly appreciate seeing a perfectly executed squeeze play. But at $30-50 for a decent seat, just relax and take it all in. And try not to mix cotton candy in your scotch.

What's the Biggest Debut in Washington Baseball History?

As The Common Man mentioned earlier, it’s Washington Week on this site, in honor of Stephen Strasburg’s big debut. And in watching that debut, it’s fun to dream about Strasburg becoming the face of Washington baseball for the 21st century. But, as The Common Man alluded to earlier, this was hardly the first big debut of a premier pitching talent in Washington’s history.


First and foremost, of course, is The Big Train, Walter Johnson, the premier player in Washington baseball’s annals. His 417 wins are second all time, and his 110 shutouts are 20 more than the nearest competitor (Pete Alexander). He was the most dominating pitcher in the Major Leagues from 1910-1924. He won two MVPs, despite not being eligible for several after winning in 1913 (because players couldn’t win twice). And his strikeout record stood for more than 50 years. On him, Clark Griffith built his pennant winners in the 1920s, even though Johnson was in his 30s.

If you believe the legends, Walter was a thunderbolt from a blue sky when he arrived in 1907. According to 1962’s The Greatest in Baseball,

“As a boy growing up on a isolated farm in Humboldt, Kansas, Walter Johnson had little chance to play baseball. He was almost 20 when a traveling salesman saw him pitch in a sandlot game. The excited drummer dispatched urgent letters to all the major-league clubs, extolling the virtues of the unknown sandlot pitcher….Eventually the Washington Senators…picked up pitcher Walter Johnson for the price of a $9 railroad ticket.”

That story, as you’d probably expect, is a bunch of hooey.

Yes, Johnson was born on and lived at a farm in Kansas, but moved to Los Angeles with his family in 1902. At 16, he began playing ball on a sandlot, but quickly graduated to a semipro outfit for a local oil company, according to Charles Carey of SABR’s Baseball Biography Project. From there, he got a brief trial with Tacoma in the Northwest League, before settling in with another semipro club in Idaho. News of Johnson’s success was broadcast throughout the baseball world, including an apparent consecutive scoreless inning streak of 77. Washington sent a scout to check Johnson out, and he convinced Johnson to come back East as a member of the Senators. He was well regarded enough that the Los Angeles Times did a story on his signing on July 21, 1907.

Johnson got his first start on August 2, 1907 against the Detroit Tigers. According to the box score the next day, Johnson went 8 innings and gave up 6 hits, including a homerun to Sam Crawford. He walked one and struck out three. Davy Jones relates, in The Glory of Their Times, that

“Being the lead-off man…resulted in my holding the unique distinction of being the first man to ever face Walter Johnson in a major-league game….Boy, could that guy ever fire that ball! He had those long arms, absolutely the longest arms I ever saw. They were like whips, that what they were. He’d just whip that ball in there.”

Sam Crawford remembered that day as well, saying

“Did you know that I was playing with Detroit the day Walter Johnson pitched his first major-league game? His very first. In fact, I beat him. I’m not being egotistical, you know, but it’s a fact. I hit a home run off him and we beat him—I believe the score was 3-2.”

Crawford’s almost right. Indeed, he homered, and probably did so off of Johnson. But the Tigers pulled this game out in the bottom of the 9th, after Johnson had left the game. Instead, Tom Hughes gave up the final run on four hits, and was hung with the loss. But by now we’re used to inaccuracies in GOTT, and as far as they go, this isn’t too egregious.

Despite the loss (or no-decision, as it were), people were impressed. Tigers pitcher Bill Donovan called him “the best raw pitcher I have ever seen.” Ty Cobb reported that Johnson’s fastball, “made me flinch” and “hissed with danger.” The press picked up on it too. On the 18th, the Reading Eagle wrote,

“Johnson is only 19 years old, but is strong and husky, and has already shown remarkable ability. He has an exceptionally steady head for a youngster , and has a bunch of benders that prove very puzzling [sic] to batsmen….Johnson made good in the box from the very start, but was weak at the bat. He blanked the Tigers in six of the eight innings he pitched….With the Tigers as competitors, that’s going some. [Manager Joe] Cantillon was greatly pleased with Johnson’s showing and will retain him whether or not he holds his present form, in the belief that ultimately he will be a great pitcher.”

Indeed, Johnson was Strasburg 80 years before Strasburg was even born. But there’s one problem, Johnson’s first start came on the road in Detroit.


To find another Hall of Famer who debuted in Washington, we have to fast forward to 1930, when the Yankees came to town. This debut, however, did not generate any fanfare. On April 29, the Yanks jumped out to a 7-0 lead over Senators ace Bump Hadley, and looked poised to run away with the game. In the bottom of the third, however, Washington came roaring back against former Senator Tom Zachary. Zachary, after cruising through the first six batters of the game, couldn’t even record an out in the third frame, and gave way to Roy Sherid after being tagged for five runs. Sherid couldn’t retire anybody either, giving up two more hits before being replaced by rookie Californian Vernon Gomez.

Lefty Gomez had been a 20 year old star in the Pacific Coast League in 1929, winning 18 games for the San Francisco Seals, and was purchased by the Yankees for $45,000. On the way back north after Spring Training, Gomez apparently shut out the Little Rock Travelers in an exhibition, while also getting two hits. Impressed, the Yankees added him to the big league roster.

Against a strong Senators lineup, however, Gomez wasn’t very effective. He allowed Sherid’s runners to score and before the inning was out, it was tied. Gomez would pitch four innings in all, giving up two more runs on four hits and 2 walks. By the end of the contest, the Senators were on top 11-8, and Gomez was hung with the loss. The game recaps that TCM has located from the next day don’t mention him at all, focusing instead on the offensive onslaught of the Senators, who had just won their 8th straight game. On the year, Gomez would go 2-5 with a 5.55 ERA in 60 innings, and walked more batters than he struck out (28 to 22). According to an AP report, he was demoted to the St. Paul Saints in late July, where he acquitted himself nicely (8-4, 4.08 in 86 innings). He’d be back in the majors in 1931, and would win 21 games.



Nine years later, the equally anonymous Early Wynn came to Washington to pitch for the home team. Wynn had been signed, at 17, by the Senators, who had watched him develop into a strong pitcher by 1939. He won 15 games for Charlotte that year, with a 3.96 ERA in 243 innings. He was called up on September 12th, but had trouble impressing reporters, who wrote,

“Early, nowadays is performing for the Washington Senators…in one of those noble experiments which Clark Griffith conducts each fall with a double motive—hoping that he can convince the Washington fans that he is bringing up new players and really ‘building for next year,’ and hoping he can take the minds of the said fans off the sorry spectacle annually presented by the Senators.”

Ouch.

The prelude to Wynn’s start was actually more exciting than the start itself. On September 12, the White Sox and Senators were playing a tight contest, and were up 2-1 against Sox pitcher Thornton Lee. That’s when things got interesting, according to the Associated Press,

“With Johnny Welaj on first base, Taft Wright hit a pop fly to left. Gerald Walker of the White Sox caught the ball, then dropped it, picked it up and threw to shortstop Eric McNair, who tagged out Welaj. The umpires ruled that Walker had held the ball long enough to make a put-out and upheld the Sox’ claim to a double play.”

Senators manager Bucky Harris argued and played the rest of the contest under protest. The Sox would score 2 in the eighth and hang on 3-2. Afterward called AL President Will Harridge. After hearing Harris, Harridge upheld the protest (an interesting precedent, given the umpire was undoubtedly making a judgment call; would this have helped the Tigers in the Galarraga game?) , declared the game itself forfeit, and ordered the teams to play a doubleheader the next day.

In the first game the next day, Ted Lyons and Ken Chase battled in an epic pitchers’ duel that entered the 11th inning tied at 1-1. In the top of the 11th, the Sox pushed across two runs, and hung on to win. Both hurlers went the whole way. In the nightcap, again, both pitchers went the whole way, but the game was called after eight innings, presumably because of rain or darkness (no game accounts TCM has found indicate anything about this, but given that the attendance is listed at 500, something was off. Wynn walked Ollie Bejma to lead off the game, and the Sox scored two on follow-up hits by Mike Kreevich and Gee Walker. Wynn would settle down, giving up six hits and five walks in his eight frames, which led to four runs (three earned). He didn’t strike out a batter. The Senators would go down 4-2, handing Wynn his first of 244 losses.

The next day, game recaps were more interested in the winning pitchers and the upheld protests than a raw emergency starter from Alabama. They also enjoyed mocking the Senators’ losing streak, which had just stretched to 6 games (7 counting the wiped out game), and the fact that their protest was for naught.

For what it’s worth, Wynn’s next start was more exciting, but for the wrong reasons. Wynn struggled on the mound, giving up 11 hits and 6 runs over 6.1 innings, but was especially notable at the bat. John Strothard writes sarcastically, for the Daytona Beach Morning Journal,

“Yesterday, the ex-Florida State league hurler came through to cover himself with glory and stuff. The Senators, playing Cleveland, had men on first and second with none out. Early, trying to bunt, hit a pop fly….Ken Keltner…grabbed the pop and dropped it. Keltner threw to Lou Boudreau at second. Boudreau touched Mickey Vernon who was off the bag for out one. Boudreau threw to Oscar Grimes at first and Grimes tagged Al Evans, who had started for second. That was out No. 2. Grimes, moving and thinking quickly, leaped to first base to put out Wynn, apparently confused by the whole business, had trotted toward first base, bat still in hand.”

It was the first triple play in the American League in 1939. Somehow Wynn weaseled his way into one more start, in which he gave up five runs in six innings. On the year, he had walked 10 batters in 20.1 innings, while striking out just 1, and given up 15 runs. Obviously, Washington fans were uninspired, and Wynn was returned to Charlotte the next year, where he stayed until 1941.



“Major League” baseball was played in Washington from 1884-1972 (with years off in 1885, 1890, and 1900). And it has been back in the city since 2005. That’s 94 seasons. In all that time, based on what I’ve looked at, only two Hall of Fame pitchers have ever debuted in Washington, and neither was even close to as overwhelming as Strasburg’s. That’s a pretty remarkable drought.

One caveat. This could change as early as next year, if Bert Blyleven finally, deservingly, gets his place in Cooperstown. Blyleven was a much-hyped, 19-year old rookie when he made his debut with the Twins on June 5 of 1970 at RFK Stadium. Facing Frank Howard and the rest of the Senators, Blyleven was masterful, pitching seven innings, giving up one run, and striking out seven with his big curveball. Both managers were effusive after the game. The Twins’ Bill Rigney told reporters, “What can I say about him. He’s the best looking prospect I’ve seen. I’ve got to rate him with all the real young players that I’ve ever looked at. He’s just beautiful.” The Sens’ Ted Williams agreed, “He looked exceptionally good out there. He was outstanding. He’s the most mature 19-year-old I’ve seen in a long time.” Howard, who had to stand in against the youngster, also praised him, “He’s got a fine arm. He’s everything they’d say he was. He knows how to pitch. It’s hard to say anything based on one game, but he looks like he’s got a great future. Somebody’s taught him a lot about pitching.”

Even though it’s unlikely, The Common Man hopes that Strasburg’s career turns out to be as brilliant as the Dutchman’s. And actually, Strasburg’s debut with the historically bad Nationals may cost him some wins, just like pitching for middling franchises in Minnesota, Texas, and Cleveland cost Blyleven over the course of his career. By the time Strasburg’s retired, maybe we’ll be past caring so much about Wins, and both guys will have plaques in Cooperstown. We can dream, right?

Senatorial History

Earlier this week, of course, Stephen Strasburg gave Washington, D.C. sports fans a reason to get excited about baseball again, striking out 14 batters in 7 innings against the Pirates, while walking none and allowing just four hits. Strasburg’s dominance was a lot of fun, obviously, and The Common Man really hopes that Strasburg’s arrival, coupled with the rise of Ryan Zimmerman, the promotion of Drew Storen, and the drafting of Bryce Harper means that baseball is headed for another long period of stability and success in the nation’s capitol.

What’s that? Another period of stability and success? When we talk about Washington baseball’s past, we tend to focus on the team’s 1961 move from D.C. to Minnesota, and the short-lived expansion team that turned into the Texas Rangers. It’s natural, as anyone who actually saw the original Senators play in Washington would be at least 50 years old now, and these most recent failures are freshest in our memory. But for 60 years, baseball was played in Washington, and while it didn’t always thrive, it survived quite nicely.

True, the Senators were not always good. In fact, at first they were terrible, posting a 610-1008 record, a .377 winning percentage, in their first 11 seasons. They lost 100 games three times, including an incredible 113 in 1904, when they started out 1-16 under manager Malachi Kitteridge. They featured terrible players like Kittridge himself, who hit .219/.277/.274 in his career, as the starting catcher, Hunter Hill (.216/.257/.253) at shortstop, Casey Jones (.233/.276/.304) in the outfield, Muskrat Bill Shipke (.199/.280/.261) at the hot corner, and Bill Cunningham (.208/.271/.301) at 2B.

In 1912, however, prominent manager, and former pitcher Clark Griffith bought a 10 percent stake in the team and was named manager. Griffith added by subtraction, trading catcher Gabby Street (.208/.273/.256) to the Highlanders and the aforementioned Cunningham to Montreal in the International League for Chick Gandil. Gandil was a great pickup, who was immediately installed at 1B, and would post a 116 OPS+ for the next four seasons. The club also picked up 25 year old 3B Kid Foster in an unknown transaction. Foster would play at least 154 games in three of the next four years, and would offer above average offense from what was then a defense-first position. Danny Moeller was also picked up in an unknown transaction, and provided strong on base skills (though he was prone to strike out). The 1912 team improved by 75 runs over the 1911 squad. But even more importantly, the pitching excelled under Griffith, dropping its runs allowed by almost 200, despite not really changing personnel.

The club’s record, obviously, improved tremendously. They won 91 games in 1912, and 90 in 1913. They finished above .500 in each of Griffith’s first four seasons (and missed by a game in 1916), and in five of his first seven. After purchasing the team outright after the 1920 season, Griffith moved upstairs and the team had even more success. From 1921-1933, the Senators finished 1102-887, a .554 winning percentage. More importantly, they went to the World Series three times, winning once (1924). In his tenure as manager and owner, Griffith brought in Hall of Famers Sam Rice, Goose Goslin, and Joe Cronin as youngsters. He made a steal of a trade to get HoFer Stan Coveleski from the Indians for something called Carr Smith and By Speece. He paid a high price in Goslin to acquire another HoFer, Heine Manush and General Crowder, who had the best years of their careers with the Senators. He made canny deals to bring in valuable role players with good on-base skills like catcher Muddy Ruel and SS Roger Peckinpaugh. He also recognized and developed other role players with strong on-base and fielding skills, like 1Bs Joe Judge and Joe Kuhel, 3B Ossie Bluege, and 2B Bucky Harris (who would become a Hall of Fame player-manager with Washington), and 2B Buddy Myer. Griffith was an impressive judge of talent who almost built Washington into a perennial powerhouse.

Alas, the economic realities of the game crept up on Griffith. The Senators drew a high of 817,000 fans in 1925, and finished as high as 2nd in the AL in attendance, in 1933 (with only 437,500 to see a pennant winning team at the height of the Great Depression). Griffith was even forced to sell his son-in-law, Cronin, in 1934 for $225,000. After their third World Series appearance in 1933, the Senators were mostly a below .500 team. They popped above .500 in ’36 (3rd), ’43 (2nd), ’45 (2nd), and ’52 (5th), and only were close to the leader in ’45. It was a dismal stretch that popularized the phrase, “First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League,” though the club finished 8th in the American League only 3 times between the time Griffith joined the club in 1912 and when he died in 1955.

At Griffith’s death, his stake in the club was divided between two of his children, Calvin and Thelma (actually his niece and nephew, who he Clark had adopted after their parents died). Calvin would run the team until 1984. Those last five seasons in D.C. were tough for the Senators, as they finished last three times (all consecutively), 7th three times and 5th once. With attendance falling, Griffith made his famous decision to pack up and leave for Minnesota, who had built a new stadium for the team.

The old Senators were replaced immediately by the new Senators, and it must have been like the old team never left. The club lost 100 games in each of its first four seasons, finished dead last in four of its 11 seasons, and only finished above .500 once (1969).

The new team had constant turnover at an ownership level. General Pete Quesada first owned the team, but sold in less than two years to three men, James Johnston, James Lemon, and George Bunker. In 1965, apparently instituting a James-only policy, Johnston and Lemon bought out Bunker. Finally, in 1969, the two remaining owners sold to Bob Short, which was pretty disastrous. Short, ironically from Minnesota, had previously purchased and moved the Minneapolis Lakers to Los Angeles, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Short up and moved the club to Texas at the first chance he got. Indeed, in a Major League-esque plot, he has been alleged (by his own broadcaster, Shelby Whitfield!) to have deliberately sabotaged his team to make moving to Arlington more likely.

By far, the most prominent faces of Washington baseball in the 1960s and 70s were Frank Howard and Ted Williams. Howard arrived in 1965 after the Dodgers became disenamored of his strikeouts and declining power numbers. With Washington, Howard blossomed, regaining much of his lost power immediately, and adding to it. He would lead the American League in homers, with 44, in each of 1968 and 1970. In between, he hit 48. The Capitol Punisher was probably the most feared hitter in the American League, and walked an amazing 132 times in 1970.

Williams was hired by Short immediately after he bought the team in 1969. Given a great deal of free reign, despite never having managed or coached before, Williams was initially very successful. Teddy Ballgame is given a lot of credit for the team’s offensive turnaround, as the Senators improved their scoring by more than a run per game from ’68 to ’69, and the Senators surged to their lone winning season. In actuality, due to expansion and the lowering (and standardization) of the pitching mounds, the American League’s scoring rose by .68 runs per game all on its own. Washington only rose from 7th in the league in scoring (in a 10 team league) to 6th in a 12 team league. What actually helped the Senators immensely was improved pitching. In a pitcher’s league, Washington hurlers gave up 4.13 runs per game in 1968, and gave up 50 runs more than their closest competitor. In a better hitters’ environment, Washington actually dropped its runs allowed by 20, and would finish fifth overall. Most of that improvement came from a couple big steps forward from 22 year old Joe Coleman and 25 year old Dick Bosman, both of whom were excellent in ’69. The bullpen was also much better, thanks to the emergence of Bob Humphreys, Darold Knowles, and Casey Cox, who logged major innings in relief.

Both improvements ended up being a mirage, as the club fell backward on both sides of the ball in 1970. After the season, Short would make the infamous deal that sent the team’s starting SS, 3B, and ace starting pitcher to the Tigers for Denny McLain and change, a deal alleged to have been designed to secure the Tigers’ vote to approve the move. 22 McLain and 96 team losses later, the Senators were no more.

You may have noticed that The Common Man didn’t mention the most prominent player to make his way through Washington in this history lesson. TCM will be back tonight to discuss this player and others in an exploration of other prominent debuts in Washington baseball history, as Washington Week continues here at The Common Man.com.

Nickname Review: Washington Strasburgs...er...Nationals

Well, Happy Stras-mas everyone! The debut of Stephen Strasburg is an exciting and important event, important enough to keep The Common Man from tuning in to at least part of the Twins game tonight. His debut and yesterday’s selection of Bryce Harper in the Amateur Draft also provide a nice excuse for The Common Man to objectively assess the quality of the Nats’ nickname, so that Mrs. Strasburg and Harper know what they’re getting into.

Basic Stats:
Name: Washington
Nickname: Nationals
NicknameTypology: Human
Definition: A citizen or subject of a particular nation who is entitled to its protection (dictionary.com)
Characteristics: unremarkable, faceless, in need of protection

Best thing about being a National: You know that somebody has your back. Indeed, everyone who qualifies as a national has some government entity who is supposed to ensure that their rights are protected. Some of these government entities, such as the former Soviet Union, do a pretty poor job of it. Others, however, such as the United States and Canada, have historically done a pretty decent job of protecting the rights of their citizens, particularly when those citizens are visiting overseas. It’s reassuring to know that someone, somewhere, will have your back when you get into trouble, which the Nats have been doing for several years now.

Worst thing about being a Nat: Anonymity. In general, the rights of the country from which you hail apply to all citizens of that country. Indeed, there is nothing terribly special about a national, beyond his or her nationality. What TCM is saying is that a prototypical national is Jason Marquis, a guy no one really knows a lot about, isn’t a difference maker, and has been largely forgotten about on the disabled list. With such big time talent coming into the organization, potential stars like Harper, Strasburg, Storen, and Zimmerman will have to do something really noteworthy (like go hiking in Iran, or swimming into Burma) to get really noticed.

More good news: Nationals can have a very strong sense of belonging, which will be important if the Nats want to keep Strasburg and company around for more than the required initial six seasons. If the Nats treat them right, the team’s up and comers will remain loyal, retiring with 348 wins and 620 homers respectively 20 or so years from now. Also, some of the countries that nationals hail from are particularly awesome. TCM has already covered the Yankees, and how being from the U.S. rocks pretty hard. Canada’s also very pretty. TCM’s uncle just came back from the Dominican Republic, which he said was gorgeous. But TCM’s thinking he didn’t make it to the heart of Santo Domingo.

On the other hand: Just because you’re from somewhere awesome, doesn’t mean you yourself are awesome. For instance, Sir Sidney Ponson is from Aruba, and TCM thinks we’re all in agreement that he’s pretty much a waste of a decent right arm. Maybe he’d have been less of a lout if he wasn’t sweating gin. Anyway, it’s also worth noting that, because of the anonymity problems mentioned above (seriously, name a Nat that isn’t Ryan Zimmerman, Adam Dunn, Storen, or Strasburg), nationals will always generate fewer product endorsements than their counterparts. Also, the lack of a real affiliation with each other (all players are nationals, but may be nationals of someplace else) could lead to a lack of team identity and team unity. Finally, the relegation of a human being to a single defining characteristic that only refers to their nation of origin is pretty dehumanizing, isn't it?

Final analysis: This is tough. It really depends on which country a person is a national of. Some countries (the Sudan, for instance, or North Korea) don’t inspire the kind of awe and reverence that you’d typically like from a national affiliation, and do a piss poor job of respecting the rights of their citizens. Indeed, without more detail, The Common Man would normally forced to give the Nationals an incomplete, and ask them to resubmit by Friday with more detail. If they are unable to provide a better account of themselves, The Common Man is going to have to give them a C-.

When You Change Horses

Well, it’s official, Dave Trembley is out as the Orioles’ manager. And Juan Samuel is in. The Orioles have been terrible in 2010, winning just 15 games out of 54. To say their offense has struggled would be an understatement. At 3.33 runs/game, they are dead last in the American League, and have scored 10% fewer runs than their closest competitor for the bottom. Their run prevention has also been terrible, leaving them 12th in the AL in runs allowed/game. Their pitchers have allowed the most homers in the American League and the most hits. They have the second fewest strikeouts in the league. And their allowed batting average on balls in play is a high .306 (10th in the AL). Mostly, this last problem is due to some atrocious defense being played in the Emerald City. Nick Markakis already has cost the team seven runs on defense. Ty Wigginton, miscast while filling in for Brian Roberts at 2B, has allowed an extra 9 runs in. Corey Patterson, Miguel Tejada, Garrett Atkins, and the statuesque Nolan Reimold have also been defensive disasters. Only Caesar Izturis and Julio Lugo have been assets on the defensive side. And the development of the teams’ future, Adam Jones and Matt Wieters, seems to have stalled under Trembley’s watch. So, really, Trembley’s exit is probably a good thing.

But what about the strategy of firing the manager in general? Since the Royals shuffled Trey Hillman out for Ned Yost earlier this year, The Common Man has wondered whether changing horses in midstream is generally a good idea. So he went back and looked at every team that switched managers midseason from 1901 until today, to see what kind of differences a new manager might make. What he discovered is below.

There were 338 cases (including Trembley) of a club changing managers at least once during the season. You won’t be shocked to know that, taken as a whole, managers who start the season with clubs, but are replaced, lose more games than they win. At 7210-8715, they have a winning percentage of .453. That works out to a 73-89 record over 162 games. The performance of their replacements, however, might surprise you. Second, third, and even fourth skippers have a combined record of 5355-6023, a winning percentage of .471, which works out to a 76-86 record over 162 games. In 223 of these 338 team-seasons, the subsequent managers performed better than the man they replaced. In retrospect, however, what should we have expected? Teams that fire their managers tend to be underperforming, and extremely bad squads have a tendency to regress to the mean. Really, in light of this, a three win swing is not all that significant. Indeed, it’s not at all clear that firing the manager has any impact on the performance of teams, as a macro-level strategy.

But on the micro level, with individual teams and individual manager in individual situations, perhaps it does make a difference. It is up to the general manager to make that determination, and to hire the right man to right the ship, if that’s the ultimate goal. Not just to find an interim manager, but a better manager to steer the club’s roster for the long term.

It should be noted that teams change managers for several reasons. The skipper may have lost the clubhouse, be tactically inept, have the wrong mindset to motivate a particular group of players, or simply be losing a lot of games (and since you can’t fire the players…). Or it could be some combination of reasons. And not every managerial change is designed to win more games during the season in question. For instance, the Angels fired Cookie Rojas in 1988 with eight games to play, and a 75-79 record. The team had no hope of catching the Oakland A’s, and eight games wouldn’t have been enough time to really get fans excited about 1989, but the club simply couldn’t stomach Rojas anymore. Rojas was replaced by Moose Stubing, who went 0-8 at the helm (Stubing holds the record for most games at the helm without a win in the 20th and 21st centuries). Likewise, Dave Bristol was fired by Braves owner Ted Turner in 1977, with a record of 60-100. Turner quickly installed himself as the manager for a game, before turning the team over to Vern Benson for game 162.

The first midseason managerial change of the 20th century occurred in 1902, when Horace Fogel’s Giants stumbled out of the gate. Fogel had never played in the Major Leagues, and had previous experience managing the Indianapolis Hoosiers in 1887. Between jobs, he was a sports writer. Somehow, he convinced Giants owner Andrew Freedman to give him the job, not that Freedman would admit it. In March, the club released news that Fogel had been hired as an “associate manager,” but also announced “that Fogel had not signed to manage the New Yorks.” The Pittburgh Press reported, “that Fogel had called on Freedman and informed him that he had several promising young players under contract, whom he could sign for the New York club if they were wanted. Fogel was told to go ahead, but was not given any reason to believe that he would be associated or connected in any way with the management of the team.” Apparently, that’s not what Fogel had been telling others, “Fogel certainly informed several reliable persons on Thursday last that he had signed to manage the New York team. There were even rumors heard of a considerable lump of advance money paid to the Philadelphia man.” Eventually, Fogel was officially installed as the team’s official skipper, and lasted all of 41 games. Sam Crane wrote in the August, “Fogel is the worst that ever happened as a manager. It was he who disrupted the New York team his spring and made Mathewson dissatisfied with his job.” Indeed, in his brief tenure, Fogel had tried to make Christy Mathewson a first baseman. Second baseman Heine Smith took over for Fogel and managed to do even worse, 5-27. Only then did the Giants strike gold, hiring a certain John McGraw, who would hold the job for the next 31 years.


Fogel apparently stayed on the payroll for at least half the season, and was called the “Chief of Scouts” as late as June 24, when “Horace even hinted in Brooklyn something about having the great Lajoie sign to a New York club contract before many days, but Horace is very apt to ‘talk through his Panama’ when his imagination gets working overtime, so we will have to pass the Lajoie story up until more results are shown than the breeze from Fogel’s ‘trap….’ Now is the time for him to get out and hustle—earn his princely salary by getting Lajoie even if he has to kidnap the slugging Frenchman.”


Some teams do indeed send their manager packing to, hopefully, inspire their club. In 2004, the Astros fired Jimy Williams after 88 games (and a 44-44 record) and installed Phil Garner. Under Garner, Houston went 48-26 down the stretch and made it to the NLCS. Last year, famously, the Rockies fired Clint Hurdle after 46 games (18-26) and brought in Jim Tracy (74-42) and surged to the Wild Card.

But for every great success, there are huge disappointments. On August 15, 2001, Jimy Williams managed the Red Sox to a 6-2 loss against the Seattle Mariners. Williams’ Sox had lost 6 of their last 7, and general manager Dan Duquette got out his hook, despite the Sox sitting in 2nd place, just 5 games back of the Yankees and two back of the A’s for the AL Wild Card. Williams was replaced by pitching coach Joe Kerrigan, who immediately had problems. Nomar Garciaparra and Carl Everett both went down with injuries. First base, second base, shortstop, and leftfield all became carousels of personnel. Manny Ramirez, who had been limited to DH, lost a lot of time to injury. Kerrigan went 17-36 down the stretch and the Red Sox finished just 3 games over .500. Now, Williams probably wouldn’t have made the difference, as the Everett and Garciaparra situations were probably unavoidable, and the A’s surged, winning 28 of their final 32 games. But Kerrigan’s tenure had to be a big disappointment, as he was not retained after the season and hasn’t managed since.

In another disappointing managerial swap, Billy Martin helped the Yankees jump out to a 40-28 record in 1988. The team was in first place until June 20, when it lost the second of four straight contests. Swept by Detroit at Tiger Stadium, the team fell 2.5 back of their opponents. More importantly, Martin seemed to be self-destructing. In May, Billy had been ejected in Texas for arguing with an umpire, and went to a topless bar after the game. There, he got in a fight with another patron and ended up needing 40 stitches to reattach his left ear. Later that May, general manager Lou Piniella resigned because he couldn’t work with Martin. The next day, Martin threw dirt on Dale Scott. According to the New York Times, his use of the pitching staff was getting on his team’s nerves, “Dave Righetti complained he did not receive regular work. Cecilo Guante has privately told teammates he has been used too much. Tommy John, the 45-year-old left-hander, was used three times in a five-day period. Charles Hudson, after throwing only 10 pitches in the bullpen, gave up a grand slam last Sunday on '’a batting-practice fastball.’ Some pitchers have expressed dissatisfaction with a lack of attention from the coaching staff.” Finally, after a dispute (which Martin aired with the New York press) with new GM Bob Quinn over whether Don Slaught was ready to come off the DL, Martin was sent home. He was immediately replaced by his former GM, Lou Piniella, but Piniella scuffled. For all the trouble he caused, Billy did win ballgames. Lou went 45-48 the rest of the way and was fired after the season when the Yanks finished in 5th.

Also, not all managerial changes are the owner’s choice. Bobby Winkles had managed the A’s to first place in the AL West in 1978 with a 24-15 record, but actually quit rather than continue to work for owner Charlie Finley. He told the AP later that year, “it just boiled down to a difference in philosophy on how one human being treats another.” Under Jack McKeon (who Winkles had replaced the previous season), the club went 45-78 and finished 6th. Winkles never managed again.

In 1946, Joe McCarthy pulled a similar move, resigning from the Yankees (who were 22-13 and 5 games back of the Red Sox). McCarthy cited “ill health,” but there were rumors that he had been feuding with new boss Larry MacPhail. Whether this is true or not, McCarthy apparently handled his resignation with class and dignity, meeting with his team and throwing his full support behind new player-manager Bill Dickey, “Dickey is the finest, most loyal fellow on the ball club….Give him a chance and I’m sure he’ll make good.” Dickey had just come back from World War II, and didn’t really have his legs back. He hit just .261/.357/.366 as the backup catcher, but probably took too much time away from starter Aaron Robinson (.297/.388/.506) and young phenom Yogi Berra (.364/.391/.682). Dickey’s record, 57-48, was ok, but the team slumped from the heights it had reached under McCarthy. The Reading Eagle reported that Dickey was “as quiet and efficient as a manager as he had been as a player, [and] lacked the fire and spark that MacPhail had hoped he would engener into the Yankee team.” Dickey allegedly asked MacPhail for his release and told him that he “had taken enough as pilot of the club and that he didn’t want to be considered for the job in 1947.” Johnny Neun managed the last 14 games for the Bombers, and Dickey would never manage again. The Yankees finished 3rd, 17 games behind the Red Sox.

McCarthy holds the distinction of having the highest winning percentage of any manager who managed more than 10 games and didn’t finish out the season. Paul Richards, who had a 91-54 record for the White Sox in 1954, comes in a close second. Richards quit the club late in September, with the team 13.5 games behind the Indians, taking a job as the new general manager and field manager of the Baltimore Orioles. Richards’ deal included a bump in salary, additional control as the GM, and three guaranteed years. Marty Marion took over for Richards, and went 3-6, but would win 91 games the next year.Richards helped to improve the Orioles, getting them out of the second division by 1960. Richards would also leave the Orioles before the end of 1961 to become the first GM for the Houston Colt .45s.

The other end of the spectrum, managers fired after a slow start, is much more robust. Cal Ripken Sr in 1988 and Phil Garner in 2002 were fired by the Orioles and Tigers respectively after starting 0-6. Their replacements, Frank Robinson (54-101) and Luis Pujols (55-100) didn’t do a lot better. Malachi Kittridge had the worst start of anyone who managed more than 10 games, going 1-16 for the Senators in 1904. Patsy Donovan (37-97) took over and was equally unable to help the club improve. On the other hand, Bill Norman started 2-15 for the Tigers in 1959 (ironically, Norman had helped the club finish strong in ’58 after replacing Jack Tighe). He was replaced by Jimmy Dykes, who went 74-63 the rest of the way before earning the boot himself in ’60 after starting 44-52.

Eighteen clubs have made it to the postseason with more than one man at the helm. The Cubs, Astros, Dodgers, Brewers, and Yankees have each done it twice. Of these teams, nine have made it to the World Series (though only four from the division era), and two (the 1978 Yankees and 2003 Marlins) have won it all. The Yanks, of course, replaced the contentious Billy Martin with Bob Lemon and cruised the rest of the way. The Marlins dumped bane-of-young-pitchers Jeff Torborg and hired Jack McKeon.

Of the 30 clubs, the Giants have gone the longest without replacing a manager midseason. In 1985, they replaced Jim Davenport with Roger Craig for the final 18 games, then handed the reigns to Craig for the next seven years. Craig begat Dusty Baker, who helmed the club for ten seasons. Then Felipe Alou managed for four years before being replaced by Bruce Bochy. The Twins (Tom Kelly and Ron Gardenhire) and Oakland A’s (Tony LaRussa, Art Howe, Ken Macha, and Bob Geren) each haven’t flipped managers midseason since 1986. This suggests a strong and consistent organizational philosophies of not rocking the boat and not making rash decisions. These clubs have consistently hired good managers (each of the managers on the list above have made the postseason, except Geren) and have not seen the benefit of making a move just to make a move. Indeed, that would seem to minimize team flexibility moving forward, since a new manager’s success may pressure the team to extend a manager who’s not ideal for that team.

The Dodgers, not surprisingly, have been the least likely club to make an in-season change over the course of the franchise. Wilbert Robertson, Leo Durocher, Walt Alston, and Tommy LaSorda were all long-serving and respected skippers, and had enough respect not to be brushed aside midseason, for the most part. Alston, in failing health, bowed out for Lasorda in ’76, and Lasorda did likewise for Bill Russell in 1998. In 1947, with Durocher suspended for the year, Clyde Sukeforth managed Brooklyn for two games (and won both), but did not want the job. Burt Shotton took over the rest of the way, and guided the club to the World Series. The Browns/Orioles (7) and the Senators/Twins (9) also have been shy about pulling the trigger midseason. Of the original 16 teams, the Indians and Cubs lead the way with 22 in-season changes each in 110 total seasons.

So is it a good strategy to change horses midstream, as it were? Again, on a macro level, there is no evidence that it’s significantly helpful. And, indeed, it can undermine a team’s flexibility to search for the ideal candidate the next offseason. That said, this is entirely team specific. General managers who feel their team needs a different skipper to get back in the race may, indeed, want to make this move. But if the GM is responsible for hiring the wrong manager in the first place, there is certainly no guarantee that they will choose the correct replacement. If a team is out of contention, it seems silly to jettison a manager, who you will still have to pay, for an extra three wins a year (particularly if a manager hasn’t lost the clubhouse). Thus, while a potentially good strategy, it is probably overused.

(note: The spreadsheet TCM created of mid-season managerial changes can be found here.

The End of the Road and the End of Innocence

So, not much happened around the league yesterday, right? Right. The Common Man is sure you want to talk about Yovanni Gallardo’s homerun yesterday as much as he does, but instead, The Common Man wants to talk about one of the little news stories you may have missed yesterday, as excited as you were about the return of Matt Tolbert.

Yesterday afternoon, Ken Griffey Jr. announced his retirement from baseball, ending his career with 630 homeruns (5th all time) and a 135 OPS+. For a while, Griffey was the best player in the American League, but his dominance effectively ended after 2000. In 2001, he fell victim to the first in a string of leg injuries that culminated in completely rupturing his hamstring in 2004. While he bounced back in 2005, he was unable to sustain that level of performance and became no better than an average offensive player, but below average for a corner outfielder. TCM has talked about the end of Griffey’s career extensively before, and doesn’t want to rehash everything here, but BaseballReference.com lists Griffey as having a -1.4 WAR from 2008-2010, which would tie him with Ernie Banks at #149 for worst career endings.

Yesterday and today, Griffey is being celebrated for the excitement he brought to the game in the 1990s, as well as for being the best player not “touched” by the steroid scandal. Ken Rosenthal says, “He is a first ballot Hall of Famer, not simply because he hit 630 home runs, but because he is the few players from this era who is not tainted by allegations of performance enhancing drugs….This will not be a problem for Griffey unless some bombshell emerges…and no one expects that to happen.” Rosenthal goes on, saying “We’ll never know if Griffey could have avoided some of his many injuries — or, on the flip side, if his injuries would have occurred with even greater frequency….We will always remember him clean.” Rosenthal’s doe-eyed optimism and faith is kind of touching, actually. Of course, we have no proof that Ken Griffey used PEDs. Nor have we heard anything about him using. But had anyone accused ARod of using PEDs before the positive tests in 2003 came to light? Didn’t everyone (The Common Man included) assume Rodriguez hadn’t used them because he didn’t need them? Did anyone actually think Andy Pettitte had used PEDs before his usage became public knowledge?

And, in Griffey’s case, there may have been a need there. Indeed, one of the recurring themes from PED users who have admitted their transgressions has been a desire to recover from injury faster. Has there ever been a more frustrating rash of injuries than those suffered by Ken Griffey from 2001-2004? Was he ever approached about using PEDs? Did he make any discreet inquiries about whether they would help him get back on the field? Did he succumb to temptation? It's entirely possible to construct a narrative in which Griffey was disappointed in himself and his body enough to look into, and perhaps use them. And using the Bonds criteria (his body was bigger than when he was a rookie, and so was his head!), it's possible to build a circumstantial case, if you were inclined.


But obviously there’s no way to answer these questions without, as Rosenthal says, some kind of bombshell. Griffey surely won’t talk about it, nor should he (at the risk of incriminating himself and tainting his legacy). And anyway, The Common Man chooses to assume that Griffey was clean, because TCM always liked Junior. But don’t pretend that Griffey was above performance enhancing drug use. Plenty of great players have used PEDs, including those who probably didn’t need it and who you would not normally have suspected. Ken Griffey was a terrific ballplayer, and a first-ballot hall of famer, but he wasn’t a saint. Griffey probably didn't use steroids, HGH, or any other kind of performance enhancers. But if he did, in this day and age, we really shouldn't be surprised.

Best to just leave it out of the analysis all together and be content that Griffey was a terrific player for a long time, and one of the game's most popular.

Random Thursday: 1921 and Austin McHenry

Sometimes, on select Thursdays, randomness happens. This is one of those Thursdays. From Happy Foreman, the last subject of Random Thursday, The Common Man used the random feature of Baseball Reference.com to jump to a neutralized batting register from 1921. The list itself wasn’t terribly interesting or revealing. It confirmed some things we already knew, that Rogers Hornsby, Harry Heilmann, Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker, and Babe Ruth were pretty awesome. Frankie Frisch was one of the most valuable 22 year olds ever (playing 153 games, hitting .341 with a 128 OPS+, and leading the NL with 49 SB).

But one name did pop out high on the leader boards. He was 7th in batting average (.339) and slugging percentage (.513). His 894 neutralized OPS was 8th in the majors. His real stats on the year, the unneutralized ones, are even more impressive. He played 152 games and registered 201 hits. He had 37 doubles, 8 triples, and 17 homeruns. He scored 92 runs and drove in 102. He hit .350/.393/.531 for a 145 OPS+. He was just 25 years old. And The Common Man had never heard of him. His name was Austin McHenry.

Alas, McHenry’s career would end less than a year after his breakthrough campaign. McHenry struggled out of the gate in 1922, eventually alarming Cardinals’ manager Branch Rickey because he was having a hard time with fly balls in leftfield. McHenry reportedly told his manager, “I feel alright, but I can’t see. I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m going blind.” Rickey ordered McHenry home to recuperate in late June. McHenry tried to come back a month later, but was simply not right. Rickey told reporters,

“He was pitiful. We were leading, 2-1, in the seventh inning when the Giants put two on with two out. Kelly hit a fly towards left field. Mac had only about 10 feet to cover. He put out his hands, but the ball was over his head by 15 feet. Coming in to the bench Mac put his head on my knees and cried….I sent him out the next day because I didn’t want to check his confidence….At the plate he swung at balls over his head. With almost a blind swing he touched two. When he misjudged a fly in that game I was convinced that he had not recovered.”

McHenry was essentially done as a major leaguer. His vision problems were caused by a fast-moving and aggressive brain tumor that proved to be inoperable. The malignancy was pressing on his optic nerve and was, indeed, causing him to go blind. McHenry died of his tumor on November 27 of 1922 at just 27 years old, leaving behind a wife and daughter. Mike Lynch has written a terrific biography of McHenry for Seamheads.com that The Common Man heartily recommends.

In retrospect, it’s unclear whether McHenry really was poised to be a superstar in the National League. His 1921 season aside, McHenry was a relatively pedestrian leftfielder. He was an above average hitter, but probably was only passable at best as a defensive outfielder. The only season in which he finished with more than 2.0 WAR was his epic 1921, which, at 4.9 wins above replacement, was good but in no way historic. A good comparison might be Darin Erstad, whose excellent 2000 earned him a reputation as a great hitter, despite never reaching similar heights again. Erstad was able to parlay that season into a huge contract and several more years in the game, and was even haunting the Houston Astros bench as recently as last year.

Nevertheless, McHenry was beloved by St. Louis fans, who mourned his passing. His replacements for the Cardinals were simply not adequate in a high offense era. None could match McHenry’s power. Max Flack and Joe Schulz, the primary beneficiaries of extra playing time, hit .300 but could barely get the ball out of the infield. In 1923, Rickey dealt 1B Jack Fournier to Brooklyn for Hi Meyers, who proved a bust. The club would essentially play an outfielder short until Chick Hafey blossomed in 1925, and the club sputtered to the middle of the pack in the National League.