We’re Not Bomb-worthy
“Keep the line moving….”
I hate that baseball saying. It’s a smokescreen for a shitty line up. WillieD brought up a good point last night about the correlation between OPS and runs scored and there is absolute legitimacy in that. But you know what boosts your OPS? Home runs. I get it, guys who strike out a lot can kill rallies. But they also win games. And how many rallies did we see die last year after we got men on first and third with no one out? Happened all the time. Is there a law against the Giants hitting a 3 run bomb in that situation?
Almost every home run hitter strikes out a lot. Guys *like* Bonds excluded. You take the good with the bad. The Giants will always be at the top of the league when it comes to doubles and triples due to the park but even with that their OPS stunk last year.
What could possibly be wrong with adding a guy who hits no-doubt home runs? I think we’ve gone so long without a power hitter that we have tricked ourselves into believing home runs don’t matter.
They can and do.
Ah, the manifold perils of life on the run in our overworked, overstressed, overhurried contemporary reality. One thing i can recommend about retirement out in the countryside is that while the need to get things done remains (think homesteading with wood-based heating and cooking plus much gardening); there is no great rush to get things done yesterday. Today’s breakfast consisted of local butchershop smoked bacon, cut off a full slap right in the kitchen; a mess of grits; four large Amish farm eggs; a couple slices of stove-toast slathered with chunky peanutbutter and a mug of high-test coffee.
Maybe once did i endure food-poisoning. That was on a farewell to HHH as Veep junket as editor of the South St. Paul Sun back in ’68. As i recall, the item that laid me low overnight and all was a meal at then Senator Mondale’s table in a hoity-toity joint in D.C. Nowadays i’m about as far from that lifestyle as one can get.
So count those days till you can drop the hurry-up, GH. And look forward to taking naps whenever you feel like it on a barely above freezing, drizzly northwoods day like is happening out my window as i type. Or as an old buddy used to put it “don’t sweat the petty stuff. Pet the sweaty stuff.”