Playing in the Playoffs: Dustin Pedroia came to the plate with the bases loaded in the Bosox game against the Belinski’s last night and TBS immediately told us that the second bagger was 13 for 28 with the bases loaded. “Wow,” I thought, “this kid is clutch.” The fact that Pedroia lined out did little to dampen that impression, but in the wake of the Halo’s loss to “the Nation” I started to wonder whether the stat was actually that useful. Going 13 for 28 with the bags bulging is red meat for sabermetricians, but the stat itself does little to actually explain why Pedroia is a great clutch hitter — while others aren’t. 

One recent study tells us that five of the top six clutch hitters since 1956 were, in order: Willie McCovey, Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Willie Stargell and George Brett. Fantastic: except that McCovey and company not only hit well with runners in scoring position, they hit well all the time. The ardor we thus enjoy from throwing the stat mafia out the window is dampened by hearing that the top clutch hitter of that era was Rusty Staub.

Staub was an excellent hitter, a phenomenal game-changer, an important baseball personality, but he’s not part of the McCovey-Mantle-Mays club; not even close. And I can’t think of any manager so dependent on stats that they would pinch hit Staub for, say, Jim Rice — who had a reputation of being lousy in the clutch. Rice’s reputation was well-earned; he led his league in grounding into double plays in four straight seasons. But why pinch hit for him? These were the seasons in which he 309, .305, .280 and .291.  

Even so, pointing to stats is not the same as pointing to explanations: saying that Rusty Staub was good in the clutch doesn’t really tell us anything except maybe that ”clutch hitting” is unquantifiable or (better yet) that any player’s performance in any given situation is, ultimately, unpredictable. To give credit where it’s due, Sabermetricians understand this as well as we do and have concluded that “clutch hitting” doesn’t really exist: “In clutch situations, few players vary much above or below their overall performance,” one stat hound wrote last July. That is to say, hitting well with runners in scoring position is probably as much a matter of confidence (or luck) as it is of actual tough-situation talent. Clutch performance variations decline as plate appearances increase: given another one hundred at-bats Rusty Staub would have hit what he had always hit — a very good, but not great, .279. When we see a hitter hit well over his average with runners in scoring position we shouldn’t say he’s a “clutch hitter,” we should say he’s “hot” — and understand what that means. It means that, inevitably, he’ll cool off.

Which brings me to my point: what holds true for “clutch hitters” probably holds true for teams. ”Clutch” performances are as overrated as “chokes.” This is no more obvious than in the current post-season. There is no question that both the Halo’s and North Siders have stunk in the post-season and that, therefore, we might conclude that they’re not “clutch performers.” The view is reinforced by the fact that the Angels have ponied up zeroes in their last nine post-season performances, while the Cubs are a pathetic 0 and 8. Even so, I would still maintain (as I have all year) that the Angels and Cubs are still the two best teams in baseball — and will remain so until they are eliminated.

So . . . what’s the problem?

The problem is that some teams get hot and that you best not play them when they are. The problem is not with the Halos and North Siders, the problem is with the Bosox and Dodgers. They’re “hot.” But teams that are hot can suddenly go cold. It’s happened before. In 1985, the Cardinals were one game away from a clinch in their series against the Royals and seemed dominant in every aspect of the game. George Brett was undeterred: “We have them right where we want them,” he said. The Royals went on to win their next three games, embarrassing the Redbirds 11-0 in game seven. In 2003, the A’s led the Red Sox 2-0 in the American League Division Series, but the A’s went on to get swept by the Bosox in the next three games. Were the Royals and Red Sox “clutch” performers? I doubt it. Rather, I view both “clutch” performances and “chokes” as anamolies: very good teams get beaten in short series while mediocre teams (like last year’s Rockies, or the galactically lucky Marlins) end up grabbing the brass ring. That’s the way it goes.  

Of course, this may all be hogwash. That a team’s performance is inherently unpredictable in any given situation says as much about the game as “clutch” hitting does about hitting. Which is to say: it says nothing. Teams win and lose because they’re either good or they’re not (or they’re hot or they’re not) and the belief that things even out over time is simply not true. I’m sure that the Cubs will win the series at some point in the next thousand years (if even by sheer accident), but the problem is I won’t be here to see it.  Which is why I continue to scream at the television (”oh for God’s sakes, Ryan, will you please, please, please throw a strike“) and wonder when Alfonso Soriano is going to decide that it’s time to start playing. 

Or maybe (maybe!) the Dodgers and Red Sox are just better.

I recently received this email, from an irate fan of another sport, complaining about our last entry — “My Fellow Americans …” It is entitled “The inherent anti-American effect of river-dogz.com.” We reprint it here in full and without edits:

I’m a new “contributor” to this website, and I feel as though my presence has been missing for to [sic] long. Because it is a site that I am sorry to say has been spinning rapidly out of control.

It began with good intentions – to provide the public (all 15 of you) with useless baseball facts to distract you from whatever daily chore you call a job. But I can’t help notice, that buried deep in these posts, is an anti-American sentiment, one that strikes deep at the core of what our great nation stands for.

Take the most recent post “My fellow Americans, our long Nationals’ nightmare is …” I’ll move past the basic problem in syntax and raise a far more frightening issue. One that’s buried deep in the article.

At one point the author writes, “Baseball is not a game of infant gratification, but of perseverance and patience.” I could not agree more with that statement, and I applaud the author for what is a profound and true statement about the game of baseball. It is a simple and wonderful description to be sure.

But, the author allows you to click on “infant gratification,” which then brings you to the Washington Redskins Cheerleader page. This, my fellow patriots is humor; run amuck. There is nothing more “American” than the Washington Redskins cheerleaders.

The Redskins site itself states, “The job of a Washington Redskins Cheerleader is to be a lady at all times, to be gracious and kind to those she comes into contact with and to support and uphold the impeccable image of the Washington Redskins organization.”

As a native of Washington DC, born before the Nationals were in existence, I refuse to even admit that they exist (as any true Orioles’ fan is required to do). But, because baseball was my first love, I will continue to follow news about the team - and support a website that started when they came to town … but only up to a certain point.

To take such a cheep shot, at our own national heroes, the Washington Redskin Cheerleaders – that, my fellow Americans, is one step to [sic] far. They are gracious and kind, and in the end, aren’t they the ones who are the basic fabric holding our great democracy together?

signed,

The Opposition Party

Bound To Continue: I’ve been thinking about the Nationals obsessively for a week now – ever since Washington Times writers Tim Lemke and Mark Zuckerman published a piece on how the policies of the tight-fisted Lerners have sparked a “growing level of frustration with the team’s ownership, stretching from the front office to the clubhouse.” While the Post’s Tom Boswell was not nearly so negative, his September 17 article on the Lerner ownership group included complaints from one player that while the Nats were “making money,” they seemed unwilling to spend it.

After a week of pondering this, I’m not sure I buy what Lemke, Zuckerman and Boswell are selling. True: this crackerjack triumverate has a lot more access to the Nats than I have, but there’s something lacking in their critique that leaves me puzzled. I am not arguing with their reporting, but with their perspective. My skepticism took shape during the course of the Sox-Tigers playoff game when, in the middle of the fourth inning, the WGN camera panned into the empty bleacher seats at Chicago’s U.S. Cellular Field.  

Empty bleachers? I was stunned. While the Nats drew “only” 2,320,400 fans for 80 home games (ranking 19th in the majors), I am as certain that an Anacostia playoff game would be sold out as I am that fossels are not placed in rocks by this guy. The Pale Hose drew 35,923 for their one game do-or-die tilt with the Leyland’s, 5000 less than capacity. In a playoff game! In Chicago! And there’s this: the White Sox, a storied club with a shot at the series, drew only 100,000 more fans than the Nats. A pittance. If you think the Lerners want a more loyal following, think of how Jerry Reinsdorf must feel. 

We have to remember: we live in a town where pastors rush their Sunday prayers so they won’t miss the opening kickoff, where baseball knowledge is as difficult to come by as bank bailouts and where the likes of “Doc,” “The Coach” and “Smokin Al” spend the summer talking about (gag) basketball (Koken hates baseball, taking every opportunity to claim, as he did recently, that it’s way behind the popularity of the two sports he loves.) 

There’s worse. In early July, three months after opening day, radio “personality” Andy Pollin, the sidekick of on-air semi-celebrity Steve Czaban talked about how he would never drive to Nationals’ Park because of the “huge” traffic back-ups. “The Czabe” (as he is known) was quizzical: “oh yeah?” Pollin was positive: “You kidding? Anyone who doesn’t take the metro is out of his mind.” And it occurred to me: these guys had never been to a Nationals game. How do I know? Because after Opening Day there were no “huge” traffic back-ups – at least not in the 26 games I attended. I can only conclude that Andy and “The Czabe” are confusing Nationals Park with some other stadium.

So here it is: as a part of this blog’s “state of the Nats” end-of-year reflections, I am prepared to give the Lerner family the benefit of the doubt. Not least of which because “a guy” who knows them (in the real estate business), says that while the Lerners are businessmen first, they have a reputation for spending money on projects only when necessity demands. “They save their money until they can spend it wisely,” he says, “so stop worrying.” The operative word is “wisely” — which is to say, don’t trade your seed corn for Eric Bedard and don’t trade your best prospects for left-handed busts. Don’t want to spend millions signing Andruw Jones? Fine by me. 

It’s true: the Nats have yet to build a solid fan base, have yet to put a decent team on the field, have yet to spend big money on a big player. But it’s also true: the Nats have yet to find any D.C. sports yakker who knows anything about baseball (except for the MASN team – and Phil Wood), have yet to adequately promote their on-air presence, have yet to reap the benefits of a not-bad marketing plan. How long will it take to build a fan base? 

Of the eleven teams that finished below the Nats in attendance, six of them (Pittsburgh, Oakland, Baltimore, Cincinnati, Cleveland and Minnesota) are among the oldest franchises in the game. Three of them (the A’s, Indians and Twins) are perennial contenders. Two other teams in the bottom third (the Marlins and Rays) have very good teams and they still can’t draw. And the Marlins (get this), have won two World Series in the last fifteen years. Two! Which is one more than the Phillies, who were founded in 1883. There’s even a team in baseball that hasn’t won a World Series in 100 years (there’s no certainty they’ll win one in the next hundred by the way. In fact, they might not). Which means that glory in baseball is not  just “occasional.” It’s rare.

Baseball is not a game of infant gratification, but of perseverance and patience. It takes a long time to build a ballclub, longer still to build a fan base, and even longer to grab the prize. Such knowledge might be only a modest salve to the wounded fans of Natdom, but it’s the truth. I am living proof. It used to be that watching my favorite team was a painful experience, because they always, always, always disappointed me. I was “miserable.” And then, about ten years ago, I realized my love for my team was making it impossible for me to love the game. I was a fan, but not a baseball fan. 

Then the Nats arrived. It used to be that I would drive 90 minutes to Birdland to watch a team I didn’t particularly like. Now it takes me 30 minutes to get to a ballpark to watch a team that outdrew them and that just might — might — someday, have a shot at something special. There’s also this. If you think Ted Lerner is bad you-oughta-geta-loada-this-guy:

You would think that all of this is known to the likes of Lemke, Zuckerman and Boswell, who know baseball, but in their recent commentaries they seem as innocent as eggs. Give Ted and Stan and Jim and Manny a break. They’ll get there.

Or they won’t.  

That announcer Howard Cosell could bring bile to a mammal’s mouth was proved during the 1977 World Series. Cosell became semi-famous for coining the phrase “the bronx is burning” when, during the second game of the World Series between the New York Yankees and the Los Angeles Dodgers, a blimp-mounted camera looked down on an elementary school set accidentally ablaze and burning out of control. Cosell made the most of the moment, linking the fire at the school (which he conveniently misidentified as an abandoned tenement) with New York’s crime-ridden “Son of Sam” summer.

The term became the title of a so-so ESPN special on the machinations between the Evil Empire’s Senator Palpatine (George Steinbrenner) and Billy “Luke Skywalker” Martin. That Cosell could lower America’s gag reflex is not in doubt (he remains, in death, a controversial — and largely loathed — figure), but what I remember most is his constant reference to Billy Martin as a “pepperpot.” He sprinkled his every reference to Martin with the term, using the term reverently as a description of the “embattled” but “feisty” Yankee skipper. “Here he comes again, that little pepperpot.” It was enough to make you vomit.

While Keith Jackson nearly literally rolled his eyes every time Cosell used the term (which was ridiculously often), I thought he might be on to something, and over the years I’ve been unofficially tracking baseball’s post-season “pepperpots” — a distinctive class of players who rise to the challenge of the World Series and provide surprising leadership. They are not great players (Martin was not), but are all, without exception, fascinating characters: they are invariably undersized and obnoxious with good gloves and outsized egos, which they hide with a liberal dose of false modesty.  

Take Martin: he probably saved the 1952 World Series for the Yankees when he made a lunging catch on a Jackie Robinson infield pop-up during the seventh inning of the seventh game. The bases were loaded. It was a single, simple play, but it made the difference in the world championship. In 1953, Martin was the Series MVP, playing unbelievable defense — even for him. But Martin couldn’t stick with the Empire because he was always in trouble, mouthing off and getting in fistfights. Nor was his the stuff of the Hall of Fame. He was a fairly average hitter: his personal high for homers was fifteen — in 1956. It wasn’t enough to keep Stengel from approving his trade to the Yanks’ farm team, the Kansas City A’s, in 1957. But Martin knew baseball, perhaps the most unique quality of “pepperpots.”

Pepperpots have always been a part of the game, ever since Miller Huggins seemed to define the term. Like Martin, “Mighty Mite” was scrawny, tough, vain and a good on-base man. He finished his career with more than 300 stolen bases and a much better player than Martin (unlike most “pepperpots” he’s in the Hall of Fame, a tenuous honor, if you ask me). Mighty Mite’s real genius was in managing, which he proved after he took over the reins of the Empire in 1918. Huggins built the then-laughing stock of the junior circuit into a powerhouse, leading them to six pennants and three World Series titles.

I can think of four recent “pepperpots” in the mold of Huggins — most of them veterans of the Oakland A’s. Dick Green is the first: the brawling A’s of the 1970s were symbolized by Green, whose good glove, feisy attitude and post-season heroics during the ‘74 Series won him a Babe Ruth MVP trophy, this despite the fact that he barely grazed the ball with his bat during the series. Instead, his claim to fame in the Series was his Game 5 relay throw to Sal Bando to squelch a Los Angeles rally — the same kind of play that saw Billy Martin save the Empire in their showdown with the Dodger’s two decades before. The other notorious White Elephant Pepperpot is Walt Weiss, whose 1988 and 1989 World Series glovework (he only hit .133 in the ‘89 series) helped the A’s become a temporary dynasty.

More recent “pepperpots” are more legion. The World Series seems to follow Craig Counsell around. The light-hitting (.255 batting average in thirteen seasons) second baseman (there’s a pattern here somewhere), held down the second-sack for the World Champ Marlins in 1997. The Marlins regular second baseman that year was Luis Castillo, but only after Counsell arrived in a mid-season trade did the fish seem to start playing (he hit .299 in 51 games). While Counsell did not hit well in the post-season he, like his predecessors, continued to turn stellar plays up the middle. Counsell ended up in Arizona in 2001, where he homered in game one. Counsell, fast and tough and of only medium height and build for his era (six feet, 180 pounds) is now with the Brewers — the only evidence available that they have a chance at the Series. Counsell, an otherwise average player, wears two rings. At 38, Counsell is on his way out of baseball. If they were smart, the Brewers would hire him as his manager — but then, they’re the Brewers …

The other two nominees in this category are Mark Lemke and Phil Garner. Lemke might well be the quintessential “pepperpot.” An anemic looking second baseman with stick hands, Lemke played like Dimaggio in the post-season. In the 1991 Series, he hit three triples and batted .417. His extra-inning walk-off single in Game 3 is still memorable for me because Braves fans were, at the time, engaging in that incessantly insulting tomahawk chop. A never-amounted-to-much second baseman who flirted with the bench throughout his career, Lemke was the talk of baseball.

Like Martin, Phil Garner is remembered more for his managerial prowess than his on-the-field heroics. But Garner, like the “pepperpots” before him (he was nicknamed “scrap iron”), was known for his nearly unconscious post-season glove and (like Lemke) for his post-season bat. He hit .500 for “the family” in the ‘79 Series, where his teammates began to call him “Yosemite Sam.” Currently unemployed (he once managed the Crew, before they brought in the now dearly departed curse) the Brewers should bring him back: Garner’s teams are always built on speed and defense.

My tentative conclusion from all of this is that any successful post-season team needs a Martin, Huggins, Green, Weiss, Counsell, Lemke, or Garner — almost more than they need a “Mr. October.” Exhibit A was last year’s Bosox wunderkind Dustin (our lord and savior) Pedroia (Peter Gammons, fan club president, presiding). Pedroia remains the firmest evidence that defense and speed are at a premium in the post-season, where the nod goes to tough-guys who can win in an abbreviated series. It should be no different this year — where fast, defensive-minded infielders could make a difference. I’m not talking about a brilliant big-bat player (which Padroia has become) or Chase (say hello to my little friend) Utley, but rather a guy like the Angels’ Erick Aybar, the Pale Hose’s Alexei Ramirez, the Cubs Mike Fontenot or the Dodgers’ Angel Berroa.

By this barometer, where defense and speed are emphasized (as they are in the playoffs), it will be the Angels vs. White Sox in the AL, and the Cubs and Dodgers in the NL. And the MVP in both of those playoffs (and the World Series to follow) will not come down to a walk-off Mazeroski, but to a lazy infield pop-up that needs to be caught, or a relay throw that guns down a runner at third, or a deftly turned double-play. 

Getting Tex: Now that the Nats have that big “E” in the “elimination number” column in the standings, they can play spoilers for the rest of the league and prepare for next year. Balester, Redding and Lannan are the great hope for the Anacostia Boys going into next Spring, a trio of frontline pitchers who can anchor the staff. A fourth pitcher can be picked from among a group that includes Detwiler, Clappard, Mock (perhaps) and (now) Martis. Or Jason Bergman, I suppose. Two outfield spots look good, but rightfield is open. My bet is that Kentucky will go elsewhere.

That leaves a semi-solid infield, with the exception of first base, where Nick Johnson will probably be given a chance to show he can play more than 101 games in a season. But assuming that he pulls a groin or pops a shoulder in Spring Training (a pretty good bet, actually) the Nats will be looking for someone to add power to the line-up — as already confirmed by Jim Bowden.  The nightmare scenario is that Jimmy-boy reconfirms his love affair with everything Cincinnati and brings in Adam Dunn, the strikeout king of the Arizona Diamondbacks. Say it ain’t so Jimmy and tell us (puhhhhh —leeeeez) that the Nats will throw some money at a player who is young, can hit, and knows how to put the ball over the fence. Someone who knows the strike zone. Someone with a future. Someone who is can complement Zimmerman. A free agent. Hmmm. I wonder who that might be . . .

Milt’s Masterpiece: Baby Bear fans better be ecstatic about Carlos Zambrano’s no hitter, because leaving a guy with rotator cuff tendinitis in for 110 pitches is not a great idea. The Slugs will need Carlos in the post-season, particularly if they face the Phillies in the first round. The Phillies are the big-boppers of the NL and throwing a 89 mph slider to the likes of Ryan Howard isn’t always a good idea. I loved it that Carlos was up around 98 and 99 mph in his no-hitter. It would be even better if he was throwing the ball as well in the post-season.

Cub fans have been waiting for “Big Z” to throw a no-no, because he’s come of-so-close so often. Then too, Sluggie fans were tired of the drought: the last time a Cub threw a no-hitter was when Miltiades Stergios Papastergios threw one back in September of 1972.

Pappas was a good pitcher, but he was forever stigmatized by the storied 1965 trade that saw him swapped to Cincinnati for Hall of Famer Frank Robinson. The Reds’ GM said that he thought Robinson was “an old 30.” It was one of the worst trades in baseball history: the next year (1966) Robinson won the triple crown, the AL’s MVP award, and led the Orioles to a win in the World Series. Pappas, mneanwhile, struggled and never seemed to get past the label that had been put on him as “the guy the Reds got for Robinson.” In 1968, he was traded to Atlanta, where he was only average. In 1970, the Braves traded him to the Cubs, where he had his best years. He went 17-14 in 1971 and 17-7 in 1972. I saw him pitch in ‘72 and noticed he had somehow revived his curve, which had been dormant in Atlanta. In the game in which he threw his no-hitter, Pappas was one strike away from throwing a perfect game. The next-to-the-last batter, San Diego’s Larry Stahl, walked. Just before the ‘74 season the Cubs released Pappas and, for a time, he faded into obscurity.

Here’s the thing about Pappas. Not many people liked him. Reds’ pitcher Joe Nuxhall accused him of laziness. Pappas responded by claiming that Nuxhall, then an announcer, was traveling first class when the Reds players were in economy. When he retired, Pappas accused homeplate umpire Bruce Froemming of purposely blowing his perfect game by calling two balls on Stahl, which Pappas said should have been called out on strikes.  Pappas said that he had caught Froemming “smirking” about the calls when Stahl trotted to first base. Later, after Pappas retired, Froemming and Pappas had a shouting match about the controversy on a Chicago radio station. Leo Durocher, famous for getting along with just about anyone, had unkind things to say about Pappas in his memoir, Nice Guys Finish Last. He called him an “ingrate” and a “cancer” on the team.

In 1982, nearly a decade after his retirement, Pappas’s wife Carole disappeared without a trace and for many years thereafter, Pappas claimed that she was abducted and murdered by Chicago’s notorious Ripper Crew. The Ripper Crew were a bunch of sweethearts who ran a satanic cult accused of the disappearance of 18 women in and around the Windy City. One of them was later given a lethal injection. Not surprisingly, Pappas’s focus on the Crew became a kind of obsession. But no one could explain his wife’s disappearance: she had vanished without a trace. I followed the mystery closely and have to admit: well, perhaps she just left him. After all, not many people loved Milt Pappas. Unkind, you see, but there you have it.

But in 1987, her body — along with her 1980 Buick — was found by workers draining a pond just blocks from the Pappas home, in Wheaton, Illinois. The police concluded Carole Pappas had made a wrong turn, apparently confusing a side road for her driveway. She had been missing for almost exactly five years. The coroner said she had drowned. “I don’t know what to say,” Milt Pappas told the media on the day his wife’s body was found. “It has been a long ordeal, not knowing what happened.” 

I always liked Pappas, while knowing that he was an ordeal in the clubhouse. I was thrilled that he was so good with the Cubs — and thought his addition might put them over the top. He filled out a very good rotation: Jenkins, Hands, Pappas and Holtzman. And I admit: Pappas might have been only a good pitcher, maybe even a very good pitcher. He was certainly not an ace. Even so, for one day in September of 1972, he was the best pitcher in baseball.  

As I was walking out of Nationals Park a couple of weeks ago, one of me droogs (Dave, to be exact) asked me to recite the starting line-up of the 1960 Yankees and then their opponents in the World Series — the 1960 Pittsburgh Pirates. This was a matter of pride, of course, and I puffed myself up to meet the challenge. I had learned the starting line-ups off the back of the 1960s Topps set of cards, perhaps the most memorable set ever made, and I had it down. By heart. So I recited: Mantle, Maris and Tresh in the outfield; Boyer, Kubek, Richardson, Skowron and Berra around the infield — with Elston Howard as a fill-in behind the plate. And then I did the Pirates, struggling over who played third and short (it was Don Hoak and Dick Groat — and honestly, I missed Hoak), but getting the rest.

Dave looked at me: “You sure about Tresh?” Sure I’m sure, I said. I sat right there in my father’s chair and watched the Yankees play every Saturday. They called it the “Game of the Week,” but it was New York Yankees television. I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember the little black and white screen and the summer heat. I damn near can still smell the room. I remember the voices of Pee Wee Reese and Dizzy Dean announcing the games. The game came to us over the only television station we had; it was WSAU in Wausau, Wisconsin. The announcer who did the news for the station was Walter John Chilson (who lost an election to Mel Laird). They had a mascot at the station: a graphic of a knight on a horse with a sword. Am I sure? Don’t make me laugh. Damn right I’m sure.

Well, here’s the deal — as Dave so kindly pointed out to me later. Tom Tresh didn’t play for the 1960 Yankees. The guy who played left field for the Yankees was Hector Lopez. I was stunned. Hector Lopez? I would have been less surprised if Dave had told me that left was played by Sarah Palin. I was sure, I was positive, I was absolutely certain, that Tom Tresh played left field for the 1960 Yanks. Don’t tell me he didn’t. Hector Lopez? He played for the A’s. Right? Right?

Scientists tell us that people forget for three reasons: they don’t get it in the first place, they had it but lost it or, they have it but can’t find it. You get memories by acquiring them, storing them and retrieving them. You lose memories when you fail to acquire them, fail to store them or (when you get older) you fail to retrieve them (which is why, I suppose, we have the Baseball Reference). In the case of Hector Lopez, I probably never acquired the memory in the first place — and then, for some reason, substituted Tom Tresh for Lopez. But here’s the thing: I am quite certain I can remember the 1960s Tom Tresh Topps card. Man, I just know how that guy looks on his card. I swear it. So when Dave told me that Tresh didn’t play left field for the Yankees in 1960 I scoffed and looked through my collection for him. Numbered. In order. In a box. Complete.

He wasn’t there.

I always thought that Tom Tresh was a heck of a ballplayer. And he was, but only for a time. Hector Lopez was better. A lot better. Lopez came over to the Yankees from their farm club (the Kansas City Athletics) and became one of the greatest Panamanians to ever play the game. He hit the hell out of the ball for the A’s, which is why they traded him to the Yanks (A’s owner Arnold Johnson was a business partner of Yanks owner Del Webb). As any Yankees fan can tell you, Lopez was a mainstay for the Yanks during their five consecutive pennants (1960 to 1964), along with Ford, Howard, Richardson and Boyer (who was signed as a bonus baby by . . . the A’s). Lopez went on to be the first black manager at the Triple A level. He’s the reason the Yankees are loved in Panama. He was a very good player and, arguably, a better hitter than Maris (whom the Yanks got from the A’s) and if he had had a little power he would have been him.   

I got it. Hector Lopez played left field for the Yankees in 1960. He hit second behind Kubek in the World Series. He watched, in shock, as Bill Mazeroski put it over the centerfield fence in game 7. He trotted into the dugout as Mantle, slumped with his head in his hands, wept. He came out the next year and played only part time as Yogi Berra, near the end of his career, was put in the outfield. At the end of the season, the Yankees called up their newest phenom, Tom Tresh. Tresh only played in nine games in 1961, but the next year he was in the line-up nearly every day. He hit .286. It was the best year he would ever have. Hector Lopez retired in 1966, after playing twelve seasons.  

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I know that Mark is sorry to read about Carlos Zambrano – I know that I am, and I hope he’s okay. And I mean that sincerely. A Red Sox-Cubs World Series match-up will be that much better with a healthy Zambrano. But shouldn’t Mark be slapping himself now for the fact that the Baby Bears could have picked up Bartolo Colon? They passed. But I digress.

One of the wonderful things about Zambrano, and why it’s so much fun watching National League teams in general, is that he’s a good hitter. And a genuine home run threat. Another great pitcher who was also a home run threat was the legendary Don Drysdale.

Although best remembered for having broken Walter Johnson’s record of consecutive scoreless innings in 1968, Drysdale hold the National League record for the most home runs in a season — a feat that he accomplished twice (’58 and ‘65). Only Warren Spahn hit more homers than Don Drysdale among pitchers in National League history. (Spahn hit 35 dingers in 22 seasons, Drysdale hit 29 in 14 seasons.)

The major league career (38) and season (nine in ‘31) records belong to Wes Farrell.

One last note on Drysdale. One of the subplots in Emilio Estevez’s uneven, but often moving film, “Bobby” is whether a kitchen worker in the Ambassador Hotel will be able to go to the Dodgers’ game that day (June 4, 1968). Drysdale pitched his sixth consecutive shutout that day — a fact acknowledged by RFK in his victory speech that night.

Drysdale broke Walter Johnson’s consecutive scoreless inning record (which was set in 1913) four days later.

A few random thoughts on the last day of August . . .

1. I wonder if Tampa Bay is so good this year because they dropped “Devil” from their name at the end of 2007. A little divine intervention perhaps? They are already 22 games better than last year and with last night’s stomping of the Orioles Tampa has achieved its first winning season in team history. They are 4 1/2 games ahead of Boston in the AL East and their magic number is 27. Yeah, I know — a little early for magic number counting. But Rays fans have been counting for weeks already. And unless they totally implode Papa Joe Maddon is a shoe in for Manager of the Year.

2. Other than Christian Guzman’s cycle on Thursday night during the thrashing of the reeling Dodgers the best moment was when Teddy emerged from the center field fence for the President’s race sporting a Dodger Blue do-rag with Manny-like dreadlocks hanging out the back. He lost anyway. Check out the video here.

3. It’s good to see that Direct TV has finally figured out that more fans will probably watch the Nats on t.v. if they can find them. MASN and MASN 2 are now next to one another rather than being 44 channels apart. Despite the change it still took me 30 minutes to find the game on t.v. last night. My first attempt was to try the old MASN channel (626). No game on but there was a notice saying MASN had been moved to channel 640 so I tried that. A black screen. I then tried the old MASN 2 channel (671). Ah, no game there but another helpful notice saying it had been moved to 641. I tried 641 and watched for a while as the Rays walked all over the O’s. Then I remembered the Nats were playing Atlanta so I thought the game might be blacked out on MASN in favor of TBS. Go to the channel guide in the lamp table drawer, go to channel 247 and got . . . Seinfeld. He’s funny but his slider sucks. Then I scanned 100 channels beginning at 600 in hopes of finding the game somewhere, anywhere. Nada. It then occurred to me that I still had the day’s sports section lying around and that the t.v. listing would be in the paper. I dug it out of the pile and see that the game is on . . . (wait for it) . . . channel 20! Of course.

4. Instant replay has come to baseball seemingly without comment. I think the fact that it’ll be limited to home runs is a positive aspect and if it results in getting the call right it’s a good thing. It’s expected that it won’t stop the game for more than a couple of minutes - less than the length of a pitching change. The final decision can’t be appealed or argued and if a manger does start a dust-up after the video has been examined he’ll get an early shower. Plus, no stupid red flags, lost time outs etc etc.

5. The Cubs. Christ, they’re good. There. I said it. I’ve refrained all season in fear of jinxing them but I realized only a home-town fan can jinx his team (and, of course Sports Illustrated) and not an outside observer. Plus, after 130 games or so its backed up by fact. 35 chest-out games above .500, seven wins in a row, 16 of 20, 20 - 6 in August, .700 since the All-Star Break, 51 wins at home, and a line-up where the guy in the sixth slot is hitting .290. And if there is any doubt about whether the Cubs fans know they’re watching something special this summer, listen to the full-throated roar from the crowd when Soriano homered in the seventh yesterday afternoon. They can feel it on the North Side.

The Nats swept the Dodgers in three — the result of good pitching, the maturing of some of the Nats’ younger players and the return of the infirm. The Nats can take pride in the sweep, even if these are not your grandfather’s Dodgers or even, for that matter, your father’s Dodger’s. The Dodger teams of yore were almost always legendary, if often mediocre. The facts are in: the Nats outpitched and outhit the “Bridegrooms,” with Balester, Redding and Lannan pitching deep into the games (and collecting the wins), while the Nats’ bats outscored the boys in blue by a combined score of 18-7.

And so, for just an eyeblink, Nats fans were able to peek into the future — where a building program premised on the Smoltz-Glavine-Maddux model that brought Atlanta a string of divisional championships in the 1990s is now being shaped. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s becoming eminently clear now: next year’s staff will be built on Lannan and Balester (and perhaps Redding), with Mock, Clippard and Detwiler waiting in the wings. The Nats sweep must be particularly sweet for Stan and Jim, reinforcing their conviction that baseball’s greatest teams are built more on pitching than big boppers. Deep in their hearts, Kasten and Bowden would love to have Manny, but they would never give up Lannan or Balester to get him.

The terrible truth about the Dodgers (a franchise that has accounted for six world championships and 21 pennants), is that they are on the down-slope of an era that was to have revived their reputation as the NL’s most storied franchise. You don’t do that with a front four of Lowe, Billingsley, Koruda and (an oft-injured) Penny and Joe Torre must know it. As the Dodgers look to next year, as now they must, they have to be wondering where the will get the arms to carry them past the likes of the D-Backs, who are stocked with throwers who (despite their mediocre record) can put them back in the post-season.

The Dodgers have always been built on pitching, even as their fan base slathered over muscled line-ups that could put the ball into the bleachers. 1953 is a year that defines this best. Brooklyn fans then extolled the virtues of a power-packed line-up that featured Snider, Campanella, Furillo and Hodges whose home run totals (42, 41, 21 and 31 respectively), wowed the rest of the NL. But the heart of the team weren’t the bats — it was a starting staff that boasted the arms of Carl Erskine (20 wins), Russ Meyer (15 wins), Billy Loes (14 wins), Clem Labine (11 wins) and Preacher Roe — who, though on the downside of an injury-marred career, produced 11 unlikely but key wins.

I’m on the record as saying the Bean-towners should not have traded Manny, but that doesn’t mean I believe a guy like Ramirez could put a team like the Dodgers over the top. He can’t. What the Dodgers needed (particularly in the NL West, where Webb and Haren can easily dominate) was pitching. Maddux, whom the Dodgers’ believed might be this year’s version of “the Preacher,” can’t do it alone. Exhibit A of that claim came against our Anacostia Boys over the last three days, when the bottom fell out of the Dodgers’ season.

Wrigleyville: The Nats schooled the Baby Bears yesterday, 13-5 and that makes two wins in a row. Shocked? This wouldn’t be the first time the Nats played well against the sluggies. Back in late April, the Nats took two of three from the Cubs, with John Lannan turning in a stellar performance (I was in section 128 for the game and he was masterful). He was as masterful yesterday, even if the line didn’t show it: the wind was blowing out at Wrigley and Lannan was touched for five earned runs in six-and-a-third. It could have been worse: he might have been Jason Marquis (I still can’t get past the idea that Marquis remains with the Cubs — as a sixth or even seventh starter. Why isn’t he in Texas? Or Baltimore?).

In the midst of this stinking run (the Nats are 14-23 since July 22), Nats fans can fall back on the fact that the Cubs (or anyone for that matter) would love to get a guy like Lannan and would trade more than a few prospects to put him on the mound. Which is the best reason to keep him and to look to next year — when (if the Nats have any kind of hitting at all), the young lefthander will be odds-on to be much better than .500. That is to say: a premium pitcher, the kind (with Balester) you can build a rotation around.

If Lannan continues to grow he will be a one of those unique pitchers — a lefthander with stuff who can dominate a game. He damn near does now. I wonder if Bowden knows what he has?

Victory, Defeat, Profits: Baseball and softball have been taken out of the Olympics, despite providing some of the most entertaining amateur contests in the history of the games. The U.S. won bronze in baseball and the U.S. women were upset by the Japanese in softball (a phenomenal game). But the most entertaining game was the Cuban-South Korean tilt, which provided a South Korean upset. It was a nail-biter: the Cubans had the bases loaded in the ninth with one out and grounded into a double play.

So why take both sports out of the games? IOC President Jacques Rogge (who berated Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt for celebrating his 100m and 200m wins — because, apparently, he can’t abide having black athletes celebrating), says that when major league players agree to be a part of the games the IOC will review their ban:  ”We have Federer, Nadal in tennis. We have the best cyclists. Rinaldinho is here in football. We want these guys in the game. We’re not saying its an entire Major League team, but we want the top athletes here at the Olympics.”

So much for amateur athletics. So much for the joy of victory, the agony of defeat. So much for up-close-and-personal. The Olympics are about profits — putting bodies in the seats, putting eyes in front of the television, and putting money in the bank. Exhibit A: In wake of the war in Bosnia, Olympic athletes asked the IOC to help them start a fund to rebuild Sarajevo. The IOC said ”no.” After all, the IOC isn’t a humanitarian organization. Rogge, a one-time yachtsman for Belgium, waves all of this off. “We’re a sporting organization,” he says, “not a political organization.”

The Big Train: For anyone following “Baseball Tonight’s” all-time franchise listings, the biggest surprise came on the night of July 31, when Tim Kurkjian (et.al.) announced that Kirby Puckett had outpolled Walter Johnson as the fan’s pick for all-time Twins franchise player. I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise: baseball fans rarely remember two generations back — and Walter Johnson (who pitched in Washington twenty years) isn’t that well known except among the die-hards. But Kurkjian (a graduate of Walter Johnson High School) got it right: “Walter Johnson is the greatest pitcher to ever play the game of baseball.” I’ve got nothing against Puckett, but let’s review the bidding.

Johnson won 417 games, of which 100 were shutouts. What is most shocking is that “the big train” actually completed more games than he won — 531 (vs. 417). How can this possibly be? I think what this means is that even the games he lost were so close it was counter-productive to remove him. He was all the Senators had. He won over 30 games a season twice in his career, over 20 twelve times (including ten in a row) and notched over 3500 strikeouts. He led the majors in strikeouts for 60 years, until Nolan Ryan passed him. And here’s the punch line: the Kansas farmboy was a Senator. In the twenty years that Johnson pitched, the Senators finished first twice. In 1912 and 1913, Johnson accounted for roughly one-third of all the Senators’ wins. In 1911, the Senators were pathetic. They won only 64 games. But Johnson was brilliant; he won 25 of them. His ERA that year was 1.90. He once pitched 369 innings without giving up a home run.  Ty Cobb said he had the most powerful arm in baseball.

Johnson went into the Hall of Fame with Christy Mathewson in the Hall’s inaugural season. He was clearly better than Mathewson, but there are still those who argue that he was only the second best pitcher in history — behind Lefty Grove.

Nonsense.