It's baseball month. After 162 games of homers, strikeouts and David Wells' crotch adjustments, we've finally reached the season's pinnacle: the World Series.
I figure by now you've all been inundated and overwhelmed with countless articles, opinions, and replays of A.J. Pierzynski's "strikeout," but this is the World Series, and it's damn important, so it's going to be my column topic, too. Besides, I haven't written about baseball yet, so I think it's my turn.
Having said that, I've come up with a list of five personal observations from this year's matchup between the Chicago White Sox and the Houston Astros. These notes are stemming only from Games 1 and 2, since this was written before last night's game.
OK, without further ado, huddle up and listen in:
1. I am capable of acting civil, yet excited, while watching baseball.
After rooting hard for a team all season, like I did with the Red Sox, it's interesting to watch baseball consistently without any real vested interest in a particular squad. Sometimes I found myself surfing the channels, but the tight play and the high drama kept me coming back, especially in the later innings.
With this more objective viewpoint, I'm able to praise and criticize appropriately on both sides. Before, my emotions would alter my judgment, as I would fail to believe Big Papi could take a legitimate strike three, and I would refuse to recognize A-Rod's ability.
But in this Series, I can simply appreciate the wonderful game. I still get excited about certain plays, like when I jumped up as White Sox first baseman Paul Konerko smashed his grand slam in Game 2, but there aren't the same highs and lows. Don't get me wrong: I would much rather trudge through the playoffs with my Sox, but I feel like a movie reviewer, composed and acute, while still really enjoying the action.
2. Expect the unexpected.
Over the course of a season, it's possible to predict how certain players and teams will perform, but in the short context of a playoff series, one or two plays can change fortunes drastically.
For example, the Astros' plan was to rely on their starting pitching, led by veteran aces Roger Clemens and Andy Petitte, who have plenty of combined postseason experience. However, both are banged up, and, despite Petitte's strong Game Two performance, have left Houston in a hole.
Similarly, Houston's veteran, Hall of Fame-caliber hitters, Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell (who is also hurt), have, through two games, played a poor series both offensively and defensively.
On the other side, the White Sox have milked everything out of their talent, and more. Third baseman Joe Crede is playing very well, closer Bobby Jenks began the season in the minors, and Scott Posednik, sans a homer through 500-plus regular season at-bats, smacked a walk-off shot on Sunday.
For a team whose weakness was supposed to be offense, the White Sox were not retired in order until the fourth inning of Game Two.
3. Relievers are large, scary men.
Relief pitchers are great, although they offer no relief. If every time they enter in the playoffs things seem very stressful.
One night, a reliever can be a hero, and the next, a goat, just ask Bobby Jenks, who smoked fastballs by Houston in Game 1, but was smacked for two runs and a blown save (despite later picking up the win) in Game 2.
Or ask the Astros' Chad Qualls or Brad Lidge about the danger of their jobs. I'm sure they'd want a couple pitches back, but both had to be ready to go again last night.
Another thing I respect about many relief pitchers is how they challenge hitters. In Game 1, Chicago's Neal Cotts and Bobby Jenks threw nothing but fastballs in the eighth inning, striking out the side. It was as if they were engaged in a duel and asking batters to "catch up with this if you can." It's a great sports moment when you know a Jenks' 99-mph fastball is coming over and over, and yet the batter still swings and misses.
4. Well, hello, managers...
It's often said that baseball managers don't do much besides setting the lineup, changing pitchers, and occasionally arguing a call to no avail. Well, in the postseason, managers become more important, and every move they make is scrutinized and second-guessed. I can barely say his name, but Grady Little is an excellent example.
In the playoffs, strategy is crucial, as every batter and base runner could be the run that makes the difference. The World Series adds another dimension when the play travels from an American League park to a DH-disallowed National League park.
Thus far, everyone is gushing over Chicago's Ozzie Guillen because he pretty much hasn't made a mistake, although he's barely had to use his bench or his bullpen (remember his starters' four consecutive ALCS complete games?). Houston manager Phil Garner has made full use of his team, but some of his moves have been criticized.
In addition, the umpires, unfortunately, become more visible, as exemplified by Game Two's incorrect hit-by-pitch call that came before Konerko's slam. This should, and better, change after this year with instant replay.
5. I like the World Series.
This really isn't an observation, but a conclusion. Everything, from the unexpected plays, to the intense relievers, to the vital strategy makes this correctly named the Fall Classic. It's a time when every pitch counts, every hit is "the biggest of his career" (as Joe Buck says), and every player can make a great play.
