2015 ROYALS—Opening Day

The feud with the White Sox begins...

April 6^th, 2015—White Sox

It’s Opening Day and—just like he did in spring training batting practice—Mike Moustakas hits the ball to the opposite field. Chicago White Sox pitcher Jeff Samardzija leaves a 93-MPH fastball out over the plate and instead of pulling the ball into the shift on the right side of the field, Moose hits it to left-center field for a home run.

On the very next pitch Samardzija drills Lorenzo Cain on the elbow.

To add being an asshole to injury, Samardzija is unhappy that Cain’s taking his time getting down to first base; Samardzija tells Cain to hurry it up. In the version I hear there’s profanity involved. Cain and first base coach Rusty Kuntz bark back at Samardzija. The Royals bench jumps up and Mike Moustakas is seen yelling at the White Sox pitcher.

After the game a reporter asks Moustakas what he said and Mike says he can’t remember even though it was only two words and the second one was “you.” (C’mon, an argument could be conducted in Ancient Aramaic and if someone drops an F-Bomb, we can all lip read it.)

However unlikely, developing temporary amnesia is smart of Mike and dumb of the reporter to ask about it: no player is going to repeat what Mike said for the record.

I turn in a story that says Jeff Samardzija looks like he’s auditioning for the part of D’Artagnan in a porn version of The Three Musketeers. The Star cuts my description. Other than that huge disappointment, the 2015 season is off to a great start; the Royals beat the Sox 10-1.

Earlier in the Opening Day game, Yordano Ventura hits Avisail Garcia and in the bottom half of the same inning Samardzija drills Alex Gordon so things are even-steven for a while, but hitting Cain looks intentional and puts the White Sox one hit batter up on the Royals.

After the game I ask Eric Hosmer if it’s over or if the Royals will look for payback and Hosmer says:

“Tomorrow is another day.”

The Royals and White Sox actually have the next day off, so unless Danny Duffy is going to show up at the White Sox hotel and drill someone with a fastball while they wait for an elevator, payback will have to wait until the day after tomorrow.

April 8^th, 2015—White Sox

In game two of the 2015 regular season White Sox pitcher Jose Quintana hits two more Royals; Mike Moustakas and Lorenzo Cain; the two guys who lipped off and if the Sox could figure out how to drill Rusty Kuntz in the first base coach’s box, they might have hit him, too.

Nobody on the White Sox gets drilled and that might be a good thing.

There are times Danny Duffy isn’t 1,000 percent sure where the ball is going and you don’t want him hurting a White Sox player by going up around the head accidentally. If the Royals are going to send a message, they might want it sent by a pitcher with more consistent control.

April 9^th, 2015—White Sox

After three games the Royals have stolen six bases; they led the league in steals in 2014 and appear to be right back at it in 2015 and some sabermetric fans don’t like it. This quote from the book Moneyball explains why:

“Anything that increases the offense’s chances of making an out is bad, anything that decreases it is good.”

This overly-simplistic and short-sighted logic from a bunch of people who don’t play baseball convinces a lot of other people who don’t play baseball that you shouldn’t take chances on the bases, but the Royals don’t buy that philosophy.

Sure, if you don’t take chances on the base paths you decrease the odds of getting thrown out on the bases, but what does such timid base running cost you?

• Never steal a base and pitchers can take their time delivering the ball to home plate and that means hitters see more breaking pitches and harder, better located fastballs because the pitchers don’t have to use a slide step.

• Never steal a base and pitchers never pitchout and aren’t distracted by having to make pickoff throws to hold a runner close.

• Never steal a base and middle infielders can play back and give themselves more range; they don’t have to position themselves closer to second base to make sure someone’s there to receive a throw.

Bottom line: relax on the base paths and you let the opposing pitcher and defense relax as well.

To stop the Royals from stealing bases, opposing pitchers have to rush their deliveries and throw fastballs, but a rushed delivery can make the ball stay up in the zone and Royals hitters like those hittable pitches. Everything a pitcher does to slow down a Kansas City base stealer helps a Kansas City hitter.

The Royals believe in pressure.

Mike Moustakas—2015

Ned Yost starts the 2015 season batting Mike Moustakas second in the order and a lot of fans who never made out a lineup think it’s a dumb idea—but it works:

Moose gets off to a good start.

Mike was hitting the ball the other way in spring training and the Royals want to encourage him to keep right on doing that. Early success is important for Moustakas; if he has early success Moose might stick with his new opposite-field approach, if he doesn’t he might go back to pulling the ball and swinging for the fences.

And some of it’s psychological: put a guy in the 3-4 or 5-hole and he might think he has to hit home runs. Put the same guy in the 2-hole and he thinks it’s OK to hit singles. The Royals want Mike to have some hits period; the home runs can come later.

Mike Moustakas—the guy who hit .212 the year before—will end the month of April hitting .356.

Mike Moustakas—2014

Mike’s struggling and some members of the media are calling for him to be sent back to the minors. But then Moose has a great game and some of the same media members who called for him to be sent to the minors now want to interview him.

After the game the media gathers around his locker, waiting for Mike to arrive. He does, screws around with something in his locker, but then leaves without speaking. Reporters are on deadline; they start getting antsy.

Mike does it again; comes to his locker and then leaves without speaking.

Eric Hosmer and I are watching and laughing. Mike is sending the media a message and the message appears to be “kiss my ass.” The guys who said he should be sent to the minors now want him to help them out with a quote and Mike isn’t cooperating. I tell Hos it’s funny, but the media is going to get pissy with Moose—and they do.

When Mike finally talks all he’ll say is: “Vargie had a great game.”

Jason Vargas pitched well and Moose starts out by acknowledging Jason’s performance, but later tells me it started to get funny to him so he just kept repeating “Vargie had a great game” over and over, no matter what question was asked.

The media can’t get the quotes they want.

As I’m leaving the stadium a TV reporter is on his cell phone talking loudly and angrily and calling Moustakas a “little bitch.” The TV guy wants to show Moose saying “Vargie had a great game” over and over on that night’s broadcast so everyone can see what a “little bitch” Mike Moustakas is.

This is one of my least favorite things about the media: we talk tough when the players aren’t around and then kiss ass when we’re in front of them. If a reporter thinks Moose is a little bitch, say it to his face and make sure I’m there because I want to see what happens next.

After overhearing the reporter’s conversation—hell, everyone within 50 yards overhears the reporter’s conversation—I decide to write a piece explaining why Moose might be upset with the media: if someone says you should be fired from your job and then asks for a favor, you might not be inclined to grant one.

The next day I’m leaning against the dugout railing when Moose walks by, spots me, drops his bat and glove and heads my way. Mike and I get along extremely well, but I’m not sure how he took what I had to say, so I’m thinking: “Now this could get interesting.”

Mike fist bumps me and says: “That’s why we love you, Lee” and walks off.

The little bitch.

(OK, Moose, just to be 100% clear: that’s a joke. If I ever really think you’re behaving like a little bitch I’ll say it to your face and then you can kick the crap out of me, which we both know you can do without breaking a sweat.)

It was a nice thing for Moose to say to me, but to be totally honest, all the players didn’t love me.

Joakim Soria—2011

Before I start covering the Royals a former player and current friend advises me to have “conversations not interviews.”

Interviews are a series of questions and series of answers, but conversations go where they will. Following that excellent advice I start conversations and then let players talk about whatever they want to talk about. Over and over again they tell me something I don’t know and would never ask about.

But because I want to have “conversations not interviews” I don’t stick a digital recorder in anybody’s face or stand there and take notes; I finish the conversation and then go off someplace and write down what was said, so if you see me talking to a player it doesn’t look like I’m working.

Which bothers pitcher Joakim Soria.

Players consider the clubhouse their home and many of them think reporters should minimize their time in somebody else’s home; if a reporter has some business in the clubhouse, do it, then get the fuck out.

Quickly.

When reporters are in the clubhouse, they don’t sit down, they don’t watch the TVs, they don’t spend too much time staring at what’s in a player’s locker. Basically, they’re expected to act like someone who’s in your house to do business; they should not make themselves comfortable or sit on your couch or watch your TV or take a look at what you have in the fridge.

But one day I’m over in the corner of the clubhouse talking to Jason Kendall, Chris Getz and Matt Treanor and we’re all laughing about something. Joakim Soria walks over and slaps a piece of cardboard with my name on it above an empty locker and then stalks off again.

Kendall says: “Oh look, Lee’s got his own locker.”

I’m thinking “Well that was fucking weird” and continue to think about it during the game. After the game I go to Matt Treanor and say: “Putting my name on a locker wasn’t a compliment, was it?”

Treanor admits it’s an insult.

Matt then tells me a story about a former team and some former teammates leaving snacks and a note out for reporters. The note says the snacks are for their enjoyment and here’s the TV remote because we know how much you guys like coming in here and watching our TVs and hanging out and we want you guys to be as comfortable as possible.

Part of the gag is the reporters aren’t supposed to understand that they’ve just been insulted.

Treanor adds that when Soria sees me laughing with players: “He doesn’t understand that’s how you work.” Matt also tells me Soria had some bad experiences with the media. Oh great, so now I’ve got this bullshit to deal with and unfortunately it has to be dealt with and the ballplayers aren’t going to do it for me.

Next day I walk over to Soria’s locker and say: “So you think I’m in the clubhouse too much?”

He shrugs and says: “You tell me.”

Me: “Well, clearly you do. Your clubhouse, your rules” and walk away.

After I leave the clubhouse Soria goes back over to the corner, pulls my name down off the locker, looks at Treanor and says: “That Lee…he’s pretty sharp.”

I’d love to tell you that Joakim and I worked out our differences and became BFFs and wore matching outfits on game days, but none of that happened; he might think I was pretty sharp, but he still didn’t want to talk to me.

You win some, you tie some.

Tomorrow: How the Royals wind up with green teeth.