2015 ROYALS—Man Down

July 8, 2015—Rays

Jeremy Guthrie throws an 88-MPH cutter to Logan Forsythe, the ball is hit to the left-centerfield gap and Royals left fielder Alex Gordon takes off in pursuit. The ball goes over Gordon’s outstretched glove and when Alex hits the warning track he stumbles, crashes into the field-level scoreboard and does not get up. Alex lies facedown, kicking his right leg; he’s obviously in pain—and it shocks everyone into silence.

It’s like seeing Superman fall out of the sky.

Even Gordon’s teammates are stunned; up until this moment Alex Gordon always seemed bulletproof. He’d crash into walls and we wondered if the wall was OK. He’d dive head first into the stands and come out holding a baseball. He once got hit in the neck, dropped his bat and casually took his base.

It’s hard to believe this Baseball Superhero will have to be carted off the field. Alex has injured his left groin and will be out for eight weeks.

The Royals beat the Rays 9-7 and nobody seems to care all that much.

Rusty Kuntz—2015

I’m doing a piece on the All-Star break and how tired ballplayers are at this point of a very long season. A lot of them need those days off to recover and get ready for the second half. Rusty Kuntz agrees that everyone is worn out and tells me to pay attention to the last week before the break: some teams are going to play bad baseball, some guys are going to get hurt. This is what happens when guys are running on fumes and just keep running.

The day Rusty predicts injuries, Alex Gordon gets hurt.

July 9, 2015—Rays

Jarrod Dyson replaces Alex Gordon in left field, goes 2-for-4 and makes one of the best catches anyone has ever seen anytime, anyplace.

Here’s how it happens:

Yordano Ventura is on the mound, John Jaso is on first base and Grady Sizemore hits a fly ball to left field. At first Jarrod thinks it’s a routine play—but then the wind catches the ball. Afterwards, Jarrod says that’s when he decided to:

“Get on my horse.”

I have no idea what it’s like to decide to outrun a line drive and then do it, possibly because I’ve never owned a horse. When I dig down deep and run as hard as I can, I feel like I get on a Shetland pony with a bad leg that’s having an asthma attack.

OUTFIELDING 101:

The first thing an outfielder has to do when he goes back on a fly ball is decide which way to turn; Dyson turns to his left. Which means Dyson is sprinting toward the wall, looking back over his right shoulder.

Jarrod takes his eye off the ball, checks the wall, then looks back up and sees the ball. Dyson takes a few more strides, checks the wall again, but when he looks back up, the ball’s no longer visible; the wind’s pushing it and now it’s drifted to Dyson’s left and is directly behind Jarrod’s head—he can’t see it.

This is where things get a little bit tricky.

When a fly ball is directly behind an outfielder’s head, he looks straight up and waits for the ball to appear above the bill of his cap which is harder than it sounds and it really doesn’t sound all that easy.

So Jarrod’s running all out, he can’t see the ball yet and then hits the warning track. Dyson knows he’s close to the wall—just a few strides left before he slams into it.

If you want to know how that feels, put a mattress up against your garage door and sprint down your driveway and slam into it full speed. And to make it even more realistic, look straight up so you don’t know when you’ll make contact and can’t brace for impact. Outfield walls are padded, but so are football players and they can still knock the shit out of you.

When they hit the warning track a whole bunch of outfielders will pull up and play the ball off the wall. If Jarrod does that the Rays will score and Sizemore will have a double at the very least.

Dyson keeps going.

Jarrod Dyson’s not giving up; he has a couple strides left before impact and he hangs in there. Jarrod makes the catch, takes one more stride and slams into the wall.

After the impact Jarrod has the presence of mind and accuracy of arm to turn and hit the cutoff man. Like everyone else in the ballpark, John Jaso thought the ball would never be caught and is on his way to home plate. Alcides Escobar relays the throw to Eric Hosmer at first base and instead of the Rays jumping out to an early lead, the Royals have a double play—thanks to Jarrod Dyson’s heart and hustle.

And this was the guy we criticized for not hustling down to first base just a few days ago.

July 11, 2015—Blue Jays

During the pregame ceremonies the Royals get their All-Star jerseys and one Royal isn’t on crutches when he gets his; Alex Gordon. Apparently Alex has already thrown his crutches away and has stopped taking the pain killers.

Superman’s on his way back.

July 12, 2015—Blue Jays

It’s the last game before the All-Star break and it’s hotter than donut grease. It’s 90 degrees at game time and before the game is over, they’ll announce it’s 110 on the field.

When it gets that hot don’t be surprised if ballplayers start making mental mistakes; having your brain sautéed in its own juices is not conducive to clear thinking. The Royals and Blue Jays combine for seven errors and at least as many mental mistakes that don’t show up in a scorebook—but the biggest mental mistake is made by the ever-popular Jose Bautista.

It’s the eighth inning and Bautista is at the plate. The count is 1-2 and Bautista fouls off a pitch from Wade Davis. Bautista then commits a baseball faux pas (French for “fuck up”) when he turns to home plate umpire Jerry Meals and makes it clear he’s unhappy with Jerry’s strike zone.

According to baseball etiquette, a hitter can argue his case, but he’s supposed to do it while looking at the ground or at the pitcher. Turn and stare at the umpire and it’s clear to everyone in the ballpark that you don’t like what the umpire’s doing and umpires don’t like that one bit.

Jose Bautista’s teammates are sweating their butts off to win a game; the Jays have come back from a seven-run deficit, the score is 10-10 and the go-ahead run is on base. Bautista’s got it easy, he’s the DH—he isn’t standing around in the sun.

And Jerry Meals—who’s wearing the home plate umpire’s equipment—never gets a half-inning off. Jerry Meals is no doubt hot and tired and listening to Jose gripe about the strike zone isn’t improving his mood, he ejects Bautista in the middle of his at bat.

Worth noting: Toronto manager John Gibbons does not go out and defend Bautista or argue with Meals, he just steers Bautista away from home plate. Arguing balls and strikes is a selfish move by Bautista when his team needs him to stay in the game. His AB has to be finished by Justin Smoak and after inheriting a 1-2 count, Smoak flies out to end the inning.

Bautista has done something selfish and stupid and it won’t be the last time that happens.

Rewind to the sixth inning: Edinson Volquez has thrown five shutout innings and comes out for the sixth with a 7-0 lead. His pitch count is OK, but it’s a billion degrees on the field so you can forget pitch counts; Edinson is gassed.

Jose Reyes singles, Devon Travis reaches on a throwing error by Mike Moustakas and Jose Bautista doubles; Reyes scores and the Jays have runners at second and third. Edwin Encarnacion grounds out to third which allows Travis to score. Bautista then steals third and Chris Colabello walks.

If the Royals have a lead going into the seventh inning, they can give the ball to Kelvin Herrera who will give the ball to Wade Davis in the eighth who will give the ball to Greg Holland in the ninth. And when that happens, the Royals are damn near unbeatable.

But Volquez isn’t going to make it to the seventh—so Ned Yost pulls Volquez and brings in Ryan Madson.

The score is 7-2, one down, runners at the corners; no need to panic. If Madson gets two more outs, the Royals can bring in Kelvin Herrera for the seventh.

Russell Martin hits a double play ball, but instead of being out of the inning, Alcides Escobar bobbles the ball, flips it to Omar Infante and Infante misses the catch. Another run scores to make it 7-3 and there are runners on first and second; still one down.

Then, as if it weren’t hot enough already, all Hell breaks loose:

Danny Valencia doubles and two more runs are in. Suddenly it’s 7-5 and the tying run is at the plate. Kevin Pillar doubles, Danny Valencia scores and now the tying run is at second base.

Ryan Madson is scuffling, but Ned Yost leaves him in the game.

Timeout for Some Managing Strategy

When I started managing amateur baseball I knew jackshit about pitchers or how to handle them, so I asked Colorado Rockies manager Clint Hurdle and his pitching coach Bob Apodaca (I’d known them for years) for some advice and here’s a concept that stuck with me.

When you’re thinking about a pitching change:

• Better an inning too soon than inning too late.

• Better a batter too soon than a batter too late.

• Better a pitch too soon than a pitch too late.

And every time I ignored the feeling that maybe it was time to change pitchers, within a couple pitches I regretted it.

In the book Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking author Malcolm Gladwell explored the idea that “gut feelings” are actually your brain picking up on clues you might not be consciously aware of and when I asked Clint about changing pitchers, he asked me:

“Why are you thinking about changing pitchers—is he throwing a no-hitter?”

No, he’s sweating like he just finished fourth in the Kentucky Derby, walking around behind the mound between pitches and looking up into the sky like he’s wondering why he ever took up baseball and maybe he’d be better off working in his uncle’s tire store instead and generally acting like he never wants to throw another pitch in this lifetime.

If you can see a pitcher is struggling…

GO GET HIM.

In this game, Ned Yost ignores all that.

Ezequiel Carrera singles and the game is tied. Jose Reyes flies out and the Royals are one out away from getting out of the inning, but Devon Travis singles and Carrera—who has advanced to second on a throw home—scores and the Blue Jays have come all the way back to take an 8-7 lead.

That’s when Ned Yost brings Kelvin Herrera in the game.

In the postgame press conference I ask Ned about waiting so long to bring in Herrera and he says he didn’t want get Herrera out of his role as the seventh inning pitcher. Ned likes to have set roles for his relievers and is slow to change the formula.

I actually agree that set roles are better for the bullpen in the long run—everyone knows when to warm up and how long they’ll have to pitch—but if you’re going to wind up asking Herrera for four outs anyway, why not ask Herrera for four outs while you still have the lead?

This is not the last time Ned Yost will be slow to pull a pitcher or refuse to make an in-game adjustment and suffer the consequences, but once again his team bails him out with a come-from-behind victory.

On the other hand, the Royals are going into the All-Star break with 52 wins so Ned must be doing something right.

June 13, 2015—The All-Star break

After writing about Jarrod Dyson playing through an injury, a reader comments that if Dyson was not 100 percent, he shouldn’t be on the field—which is totally unrealistic and the kind of thing you say if you’ve never played 162 baseball games. If every Big League player had to be 100 percent before his name went in the lineup, you couldn’t field a team.

Ballplayers say the only day they’re 100 percent is the first day of spring training; after that, it’s something less. The Royals have played 86 games; nobody is completely healthy.

Players get tired and the All-Star break is just that; a break—unless you make the All-Star team. Then there is no break for six (or if you’re lucky) seven months.

The Royals are sending Salvador Perez, Alcides Escobar, Lorenzo Cain, Mike Moustakas, Wade Davis and Kelvin Herrera to the All-Star Game. Alex Gordon made the team, but won’t play. Ned Yost is taking his coaching staff along with him: Dave Eiland, Pedro Grifol, Doug Henry, Mike Jirschele, Rusty Kuntz, Dale Sveum and Don Wakamatsu are all headed for the All-Star game. None of these guys will get the break they need.

It’s cool that the Royals are getting to take so many players and coaches to the All-Star Game, but you wonder what effect this might have on the rest of the season.

Ned says he’s spending 2-to-3 hours a day preparing for the All-Star Game. I’ve been around Big League managers; they don’t have two or three empty hours in a day. So whatever time is being spent by the manager and coaches on the All-Star Game is being taken away from their regular game prep. And if the participating players and coaches come out of the All-Star break even more exhausted than when it started, how will that affect the rest of their season?

One of the reasons it’s hard for a champion to repeat is all the stuff a champion is expected to do after winning. The extra responsibilities and requirements make the next year even harder; more interviews, less time off, banquets, award shows—and running the All-Star Game is on the list.

The All-Star Game is a nice perk, but there’s a reason some veteran players find an excuse to skip it.

Next Up: Yordano Ventura gets demoted, Jason Vargas gets hurt and Joe Blanton saves the day.