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| Friday, September 22 | ||||||
| Lots and lots of baseball ESPN.com | ||||||
They spent more time at the ballpark than the grounds crew. They
threw so many pitches, if you'd strung them all together, they'd practically
have traveled from Fenway to Sydney.
They survived hurricanes and raindrops and and rulings by the commissioner's
office. And in the midst of all that, the great wild-card race of 2000 rumbled ever onward.
We start with take the case of the Red Sox and Indians. They had an entire series rained out in May. And it turned their life into a living hell in September. Indians reliever Paul Shuey told Week in Review he arrived at Fenway for Game 1 of their five-game marathon at 3 p.m. Tuesday. Out of the next 56 hours, he spent 37 of them in Fenway. That doesn't leave a whole lot of time for sleeping, dining or wearing civilian clothes. Asked if he went to sleep in Kansas City on Thursday night (or actually early Friday morning) and found himself dreaming about the bullpen in Fenway, Shuey replied: "Nah. I was pretty happy to get out of there. I'm not gonna be dreaming of that place. That was pretty much of a nightmare right there. What can I say about those people, other than: They're rude." The totals From the first pitch of Game 1 of the Boston-Cleveland series on Tuesday until the last pitch of the fifth game on Thursday, only 54 hours and 29 minutes actually elapsed. But inside those 54 hours and 29 minutes, the teams played baseball for 17 hours, 37 minutes. They changed pitchers 30 times. They worked 172 names into the box scores. And the 40 pitchers they went through heaved a total of 1,602 pitches. How many is that? At 60 feet, 6 inches per pitch, that's 18.36 miles of pitches -- in 51 hours. "If every series was like this one," Shuey said, "we'd all have short careers. You can't keep throwing and throwing and throwing like that. Your arm would blow up." The entertainment How does a ballplayer kill time between back-to-back day-night doubleheaders? Shuey reported that he and Travis Fryman spent the intermission of the second day-nighter watching a fly-fishing video and going through a fishing book. Very constructive. But between games of the first day-nighter, Shuey admitted to watching "Slapshot" -- for "about the 12th time." Not so constructive. "Yeah, well, that was after we beat Pedro," he said. "We got kinda giddy." The aches and pains Meanwhile in Baltimore, the A's and Orioles were supposed to play a day-nighter themselves on Tuesday. But what was left of the late, great Hurricane Gordon had other ideas. So a game that was supposed to start at 1 p.m. didn't end until after 10 p.m. Whereupon the commissioner's office called off the second game without consulting the A's, who wanted to play. That resulted in a second day-nighter the next day. And they managed to play that one, after which the A's had to fly all the way from Baltimore to Seattle. Some fun, eh? "After all that," A's utility man Frank Menechino reported, "my butt hurts. From all that sitting around. It was bad, man. You're there from 9:30 in the morning till 12 at night. I think I was still loose when I got there the next day." The highlights In the midst of all that, some unbelievable stuff happened -- in both places. One rough thing about being a ballplayer is: No matter how many hours you work, no overtime. Even in weeks with back-to-back day-night doubleheaders -- and another one coming up four days later. Asked if he'd support an attempt by the union in the next negotiating agreement to get all players paid by the hour during day-nighter marathons, Shuey replied: "No. I'd just rather all the fields have roofs. That would work." Or maybe not. Just ask the A's. They'd be looking for a whole different negotiating platform in that next labor deal: No more hurricanes -- and no more trips to Baltimore. They had a doubleheader hurricaned out in Baltimore last year, too, you'll recall -- and had to zig-zag to Baltimore for a makeup doubleheader on an off day, in between a trip from Oakland to Texas. Then this year, after having their game hurricaned out Sunday in Tampa Bay, despite the fact that it was scheduled in a stadium with a roof, they had the same storm kill another day in Baltimore. Asked if he planned to co-star with Helen Hunt in any forthcoming feature films about people who love storms, Menechino replied: "Not me. I'm not a big rain fan, and I never was. You get rained out and you're playing in a dome, you know something's bad." Daal house of the week The Last 20-Game Loser of the 20th Century has dodged one bullet. To do it, Brian Kingman had to fly 6,000 miles round trip, blow a day's work and avoid the temptation to burst out of the stands and charge the mound. But whatever it takes to keep Omar Daal stuck on 19 losses for another week and a half, The Last 20-Game Loser of the 20th Century is prepared to do it. At least Omar Daal appreciates it. Thursday in Philadelphia, Daal (still a spiffy 3-19 for the season) threw six sparkling innings of one-run baseball for the Phillies against the Mets. He didn't win. That would be his bullpen's fault. But he didn't lose, either. And even he thinks maybe that's Brian Kingman's doing. Twenty years after he became baseball's last 20-game loser for Billy Martin's 1980 Oakland A's, Kingman flew in all the way from California to attend Daal's game. And presto. After losing seven straight starts, Daal didn't lose this one. "He bring me good luck tonight," Daal said appreciatively. "I hope I see him in Chicago." Sure will. Chicago is the scene of Daal's next attempt to avoid losing 20, Tuesday at Wrigley Field. And Kingman does indeed plan to be at that game, too. It takes a rare individual to think losing 20 games in a season is actually a good thing. But it's Brian Kingman's one claim to fame in life. So if he's going to lose it, he's not going to lose it from afar. Seven years ago, the last time any pitcher went to the mound with a chance to lose his 20th (in this case, Scott Erickson of the Twins), Kingman went to a sports bar to watch -- feeling, he said, "like I was on trivia death row." But now, thanks to the miracle of frequent-flier miles, he's taking a more hands-on approach to Daal's run at dislodging his crown. "The reason I came is that I really feel that, for some strange reason, I can influence the game," Kingman told Week in Review, from his Thursday night Non-Loss celebration. "And maybe I did. I mean, Omar Daal hadn't had a lead since ... well, when? (Correct answer: August 24) So then I show up, he gets a lead in the sixth inning. You tell me: Can that really be coincidence?" Of course, some would say that if Kingman's influence was that great, he would have gotten Daal a win out of this -- as opposed to getting him into position to have his bullpen blow a 5-1 lead. But Kingman says: "I was using all my powers to make sure he didn't lose. I turned off my powers as soon as he left the game." OK, that's his story. And he's sticking to it. But whatever, for one night, Brian Kingman was an official national celebrity again. And what were the odds of that? He got a ticket in section 220. And the next thing he knew, he was a major media attraction waiting to happen. "The weirdest thing," he said, "is that I was sitting in the stands, and five guys with these long-angle lenses were all taking my picture. And I could see people all around me saying, 'Who is this guy?' Then when the camera guys left, people were asking me who I was. And I was saying, 'I'm the last 20-game loser.' And I could see their reaction. At that point, I was wishing I actually was somebody. "I should have said, 'I declared I was running for president on an independent-party ticket,' because as soon as I said, 'I'm the last 20-game loser,' they all went back to their seats." The only group not joining in this hysteria was the Phillies, who refused to let Kingman into the press box, despite massive media demand. To which we can only respond: Hey, LIGHTEN UP! "The Phillies weren't too excited about the circus atmosphere," Kingman said. "But I didn't mean any disrespect to anybody -- especially Omar. I guess they were embarrassed that the only attention they could get was over a 20-game loser. But look at all the 20-game losers the Phillies have had. Why should they be embarrassed? They invented it." The Phillies have, in fact, had 28 20-game losers in their rich and not-so-glorious history, from Steve Carlton (1973) to Robin Roberts (1957) to that great 48-game loser (in 1883), John Coleman. "So I didn't want to embarrass Omar," Kingman said. "But I didn't want him to lose. I wanted him to win. If the Phillies were that upset, they shouldn't have pitched him. But it was kind of a circus atmosphere. You'd have thought I threw a no-hitter or something." But since Kingman was at this game in person, he wasn't able to watch the nation's media giants tell his life story. He was interviewed on the Mets' TV network during the game, though, and was able to tell his wife to tape the game at home off the satellite. "Of course, to do that, I had to admit that I just paid $100 for the baseball season-ticket package on Direct TV -- just for the last two weeks of the season," Kingman confessed. "It makes sense to pay that money for the whole season, but who does it with two weeks to go? I know it was stupid, but I wanted to see if Omar made it. So I asked my wife to tape the Mets' game, and she said, 'We're not gonna get it.' I had to say, 'Uh, yes we are.' " But who knows? Maybe that helped, too. All that energy Kingman is expending in this pursuit has to mean something. If David Wells could take four starts to win his 20th game, why can't Daal go 0 for 3 starts in his attempt to lose his 20th? "I'll go to Chicago," Kingman said. "But he's not really going to start that last game of the year, is he? I might run out of frequent-flier tickets if I have to go to that game, too." So far, though, the Phillies still have Daal scheduled to start that final game. And that, Kingman says, is driving him nuts. "Don't they have somebody else who can pitch that game?" wondered The Last 20-Game Loser of the 20th Century. "How about the third-base coach?" Zero hero of the week Rockies catcher Ben Petrick might have pulled off the baseball feat of the year Wednesday night -- without ever getting a hit. He drove in four runs in the Rockies' 15-11 loss to the Padres, but had zero hits. Now it isn't easy to do this, but here's how Ben Petrick pulled it off: He drove in one run with an RBI groundball to short in the second. He drove in his second run with a sacrifice fly to center field in the fourth. He drove in his third run with an RBI ground ball to second base in the eighth. He drove in his final run with a bases-loaded walk in the ninth. At this point, no one can figure out if this is a record or not. But we know this: You'd get better odds on Luis Castillo winning the RBI title next year. "What are the odds of this?" pondered Rockies coach-witticist Rich Donnelly. "Kind of like Guam winning the gold medal in the Olympics in basketball." But wait, we observed. Guam isn't even a contestant in basketball in the Olympics. "That," Donnelly retorted, "is my point." And a good one it is indeed. Four RBI and no hits? What's the equivalent of that in some of these other sports. "In basketball," Donnelly theorized, "it would be like making 40 foul shots and scoring 40: 0 for 17 from the field, 40 for 40 from the line. In football, it would be like scoring five touchdowns -- and rushing for minus 80 yards. Some quarterback could do that sometime. Of course, it would take a lot of sacks." But how do we explain how something like this is even possible, we wondered. "Had to be the fall equinox," Donnelly said. "It's something about the moon. I don't know exactly what. But you spring forward and you fall back. I remember that part. And that's falling way back." Olympian of the week As we gaze from afar at the grand spectacle that is the 2000 Olympiad -- and gosh, we love that kind of talk -- we can't help but reflect back on our own brush with these Olympics. All right. So maybe "brush" is too strong a word. "Blow-off" would be more like it. If you're a regular reader of this column, you know we campaigned tirelessly to get America's funniest mighty mite, Casey Candaele, a spot on the Olympic baseball team. In retrospect, to be honest, we might have had a better shot of getting Kathie Lee Gifford a shot. For some reason, adding a 5-foot-9, 39-year-old utility man didn't seem to be what those Olympic powers that be had in mind, no matter how hilarious he might be to have around. Boy, what are they thinking? But as best we can recall, we never did tell our man Casey he'd been officially eliminated from consideration. For all we know, he set out to join the Olympiad, even though his invitation was clearly lost in the mail. So we thought we'd better check back in with him one last time to present Casey Candaele's Olympic Diary: Day One Last week, on the day of the opening ceremonies, our man Casey, having heard something about Sydney, set off to attend. "I'm here at Uncle Sidney's house," he reported, "with all my flags, waiting for everyone else to show up. I don't know where they are. I bet they sent me the wrong address." By Day Two, we're afraid, the reality of having the grand spectacle of the 2000 Olympiad go on without him was beginning to set in for our hero. He did hang in there at Uncle Sidney's house for a couple of days, though, just to make sure this wasn't the right Sydney. "Once I realized I wasn't really at the Olympics, I figured I'd make some hot dogs, have a couple of Foster's Lagers and watch the Games, so I could act like I was there watching. I'm an alternate. That's the way I'm looking at it." Of course, even alternates need to have their Olympic flames. And Candaele had his. "Yeah, we threw a little too much lighter fluid on the barbecue, and it looked just like the Olympic flame. So we sat by the flame and sang the Australian national anthem and acted just like we were there. Of course, I don't actually know the Australian national anthem, but I figured they threw 'Australia' in there a lot. And kangaroos. That kind of stuff. We just based the tune on the United States national anthem. Nobody could even tell the difference." It was a moving, moving scene, all right -- one Bud Greenspan would have been happy to chronicle for the ages, we're sure. "It brought tears to my eyes," Candaele said, his voice cracking slightly. "Of course, that was because Uncle Sidney was cutting onions for the hot dogs. But I pulled it off. I'm a pretty good actor, so I just acted like I was really touched. It was special. The whole family was there. They bought tickets to be at Uncle Sidney's house to watch me. We're not a real bright bunch. "But we all held hands, swayed back and forth, and sang 'Koom-ba-ya.' Then they gave me a microphone and I thanked everybody for giving me the opportunity to represent my country at Uncle Sidney's house. I thought I heard people start whispering, 'Is this guy really this stupid? Doesn't he realize no one's going to show up?' But that's OK. I hoped to live a dream. Instead, I'm just living in a dream world. "The difference between fantasy and reality is a thin line, you know. Or maybe it's the difference between intelligence and insanity that's a thin line. I can't remember how that goes. But it doesn't really matter, because I'm 0 for 4 on all of them. That's why I didn't make the team: I went 0 for 4." Day Three By now, the passion had pretty much been drained out of our man Casey, just as the Foster's Lager had pretty much been drained out of his refrigerator. "We just kind of closed up shop," he reported sadly. "Uncle Sidney had had enough of us by then. He said, 'Get out of here. You're driving me crazy.' So we left. It was the fastest Olympics I was ever involved in." So the Candaele family headed home, to sort out their Olympic memories. "I have a plan," Candaele said. "I'm going to wait until the United States wins a medal. Then I'm going to find a picture of the team and superimpose myself in the team picture. Nobody will know except the team. But I know some of those players. Pat Borders knows me. So I'll just superimpose myself right next to him, like we were pals. "Then I'll put the picture in with my resume and start sending it out. I figure I should get a job easy with that in there. Who wouldn't want to hire an Olympic hero like me?" At that point, it was tough not to sense the hurt and desperation that was wallowing up inside our hero. And he let it all spill out. "My life has been one disappointment after another anyway, so I'm sure some new disappointing event come along in the next week or so to help me forget this one," he said. "I've spent 18 years in a career based on failure. So that must make me one of the best baseball players ever -- because I've failed more than anyone." But beneath all that disappointment, the Olympic flame continued to burn. It just happened to be burning in the barbecue at Uncle Sidney's house. And though his own Olympic dream had been doused, our man Candaele understands his obligation to keep the flame burning, so that others can have their own dreams -- or at least their own hot dogs. "Where's the next Olympics anyway?" he asked. "Athens? Oh yeah. George Athens' house. He lives right down the block. I'll have to go over to Uncle Sidney's and take the barbecue over to George Athens' house when we're done. Then he can be the keeper of the flame." Wild pitches Box score lines of the week One of the nuttiest games of the year produced two eye-popping box-score lines from the two starting pitchers. It was Astros 10, Pirates 9 in 10 insane innings, last Friday. The Astros blew a 9-3 lead -- but won anyway. And here are the lines by the two starters: Jose Silva, Pirates 3 IP, 5 H, 9 R, 9 ER, 3 BB, 2 K, 2 HR, 1HBP. Jose Lima, Astros 7 1/3 IP, 14 H, 6 R, 6 ER, 2 BB, 1 K. Hard to say what the big story here was -- either Lima giving up 14 hits and still standing to be the winning pitcher when he left (with a 6-3 lead) or Lima giving up 14 hits and none of them leaving the park. Even Lima almost sounded disappointed by that development, since he was only two homers short of Robin Roberts' NL record (46) and six shy of Bert Blyleven's major-league record (50) at the time. "I hope I break the record," he said. "Then I can be in the book for something. It's not a bad record. People can remember Lima gave up (51) home runs in a year -- and shut up and stop talking about it." Lima gave up three in his start Friday night, breaking Roberts' NL mark. 42-skidoo of the week When the Tigers and Red Sox got together last weekend, it was a good time to hold a meeting of the fan clubs of just about everyone on both teams -- because they were all in there. An amazing 62 different players appeared in the series -- all but two of the 34 available Red Sox (Pedro and Tomo Ohka) and all but one of the 31 available Tigers (Jeff Weaver). But the highlight was the first game of the series last Friday, which featured an AL record-tying 42 different bodies marching in there. Just in the top of the eighth inning alone, 17 different players appeared, thanks to this tremendous sequence: C.J. Nitkowski walks Troy O'Leary. Matt Anderson walks Dante Bichette. Donnie Sadler pinch-runs for Bichette. Scott Hatteberg flies out. Jason Varitek pinch-hits for Rico Brogna. Willie Blair replaces Anderson. Varitek singles. Darren Lewis pinch-runs for Varitek. Midre Cummings pinch-hits for Manny Alexander and singles. Kevin Tolar replaces Blair. Bernard Gilkey pinch-hits for Trot Nixon and flies out. Nelson Cruz then replaces Tolar and walks Jose Offerman, then strikes out Carl Everett. Got all that? The two teams then used five players in the bottom of the eighth before a pitch was thrown. (Rheal Cormier warms up. Billy McMillon hooked. Wendell Magee announced as pinch hitter. Then Rod Beck becomes new pitcher. Then Rich Becker becomes new pinch hitter.) Want to know you use 42 players in one game? That's how. When it was over, the Red Sox had used 24 players, the Tigers 18 But they still only tied a record that had held up for 25 years, much to the chagrin of some of the participants. "They didn't hold their own," Boston's Lou Merloni told the Boston Globe's Gordon Edes. "They've got to come up bigger." To which Tigers manager Phil Garner responded: "If I'd known, I'd have done it. I'm all about records. I couldn't get in the record book for hitting home runs. I couldn't get in the record book for base hits. I'm going to get in that record book somehow." Mystery whiffer of the week Of all people, that was John Franco actually heading for home plate Wednesday in Atlanta -- and striking out against Mike Remlinger. But at least Franco had his alibi all prepared afterward. "I can't remember when my last at-bat was," he said. "I think it was in 1962." Really full count of the week Ever seen a hitter get a hit on a 4-and-2 pitch? It's supposed to be impossible. But it got extremely possible last Saturday in Detroit, with C.J. Nitkowski pitching to that crafty Nomar Garciaparra. The count was 1 and 2 when the Comerica Park scoreboard froze. Then came three straight balls, but Nomar never moved and umpire Rick Reed lost track of the count, signaling that it was still 3-2. So Garciaparra got another pitch -- and promptly singled in the go-ahead run. "I knew exactly what was happening," Nitkowski told Booth Newspapers' Danny Knobler. "I saw Nomar -- and he knew. He wanted to hit. And I wanted to pitch to him. That's why he hits .360 every year." Reed's explanation for how this happened: "I ended up with egg on my face. Obviously, I'm not that smart. I used to be able to count up to four." Double trouble of the week It was only a matter of time before America's funkiest dome, Tropicana Field, left its mark on the pennant race. But it sure did Monday, when Seattle's Jay Buhner hit a high fly ball in the ninth inning of a tie game -- that never came down. That, of course, is because it got stuck in one of those pesky baseball-eating Trop catwalks This one was the "B" ring, which actually hangs above the field, 250 feet away from home plate, 150 feet up. So even though Steve Cox was camped under it, it never came down -- so Buhner got a double, which started Seattle's game-winning rally. Buhner, for his part, decided he would just run around the bases and see if anybody made him go back to second. Which they did. But it was worth a shot, he said. "It was kinda like Little League," Buhner said, "where you run until someone tags you." Gus Bell imitation of the week He's never been confused with Smokey Burgess or John Vander Wal. But if Mark McGwire is going to a professional pinch-hitter for the next couple of months, he proved last Friday he'll at least be the scariest professional pinch-hitter alive. In his first plate appearance in Busch Stadium since July 6, Big Mac pummeled the first pitch he saw for a 431-foot pinch homer off the Cubs' Jon Lieber. What a moment. "There were 40,000 fans here, but about 80,000 or 120,000 will say they were here to see it," said manager Tony La Russa. "It's like Hollywood. This guy is so incredible. How do you do that?" Then again, it was a heck of a moment even before the guy took a swing. Just his appearance in the on-deck circle was more interesting than anything that has happened all month in, say, the Metrodome. "Big Mac walks out of the dugout, and everybody started screaming," said teammate Dave Veres. "I thought the Rams score was on the scoreboard." Inside-outer of the week It isn't every day you see an inside-the-park home run by a catcher. But Brad Ausmus thought he'd hit one in Detroit last Sunday. He hit a sinking line drive to center that Darren Lewis lost in the afternoon glare. It kicked past Lewis. And Ausmus circled the bases for what looked like an inside-the-parker -- but was mysteriously scored a single and three-base error. Asked for his reaction to the scoring decision when it appeared on the board, Ausmus said: "I was out of breath. I didn't have the energy to have a reaction." But he did say: "I didn't think I could hit one to center field here. (Pregnant pause.) Apparently, I can't." Wild game of the week Here's one more game to sum up baseball here in the year 2000: Texas takes a 9-1 lead on Kansas City last Friday in Arlington. The Royals climb all the way back to take a 10-9 lead in the ninth. Texas ties it at 10. The Royals take an 11-10 lead in the top of the 10th. Texas scores two in the bottom of the 10th to win, 12-11. So how do you explain a game like that? "I don't know that you can explain it," said Royals manager Tony Muser. "It's just baseball. You'd stay up all night beating your head against the wall if you tried to explain it." Friendly rivals of the week When their game Sunday in Tampa Bay got called off the previous day because of hurricane scares, the A's got to escape Florida a day early -- and found themselves in the strange position of being in the same city (Baltimore) as the team they were battling in the AL West, Seattle. Among the classic quips by manager Art Howe on that odd circumstance: Andres Galarraga ('97 Rockies, '98 Braves), Rafael Palmeiro ('98 Orioles, '99 Rangers) and Greg Vaughn ('98 Padres, '99 Reds). Jayson Stark is a senior writer at ESPN.com. Week in Review appears each Friday. | ALSO SEE Jayson Stark archive | |||||
