This week's oooooooof goes to the Philadelphia 76ers.
On Monday the Sixers hosted the San Antonio Spurs. The Spurs, not surprisingly, opted not to dress Tim Duncan and Kawhi Leonard, two of their best players. Manu Ginobili dressed but didn't set foot on the floor. Matt Bonner, yes, Matt Bonner, was the starting center. Now granted these are still the San Antonio Spurs and the Philadelphia 76ers, but with San Antonio resting their best players you would expect the score to be somewhat reasonable. It was not.
The Sixers scored 29 points in the first half to the Spurs 65. The Sixers managed 39 points in the second half and the Spurs let up just a little bit, resulting in a final score of 119-68. It probably could have been a lot worse. Tony Parker played just 16 minutes. LaMarcus Aldridge scored 26 points in just 21 minutes and didn't play a second in the 4th quarter. When you really break it down, the Spurs second unit beat the Sixers by 51 points, one of the most lopsided wins in NBA history. On the Sixers' own floor.
Oooooooof!
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
About Kobe Bryant ...
I don't like Kobe Bryant, not as a basketball player or as a human being. I never have. That doesn't change the fact that he is one of the greatest basketball players I have ever seen. And it doesn't change the fact that watching his career come to an end this way is nothing short of painful.
When Bryant announced on the Player's Tribune a few weeks ago that he was retiring at the end of the season (read it here), I felt a sense of relief. Not just because of my dislike towards him, or what he tends to do to the Toronto Raptors, but also because I thought ending his playing career was the right thing to do since his skills were clearly on a steep downslope and his health was rapidly deteriorating. Then I looked at his stats for the season ... and realized maybe he was a few years too late.
You never want to see the greats forced to call it quits. You never want to see someone end their career because their body simply can't do it anymore. You never want to see someone end their career because they are simply too slow or don't have the necessary skills to compete at the highest level anymore. When it happens, it's like watching a slow motion car crash. You don't want to see it happen, but when it does you just can't look away. We're talking about the 3rd highest scorer in NBA history going out and scoring 12 points on 20 shots (terrible) for 30% shooting from the floor (atrocious). It would have been like Derek Jeter batting below the Mendoza line in his final season. It is no way to end a career.
And wouldn't you know it, as I'm writing this, Bryant is in the process of putting up 21-8-4 while shooting 8-for-16 against the Raptors. Again, he has this knack for scoring points against the Raps.
Not surprisingly in today's world, basketball pundits have already taken on the task of determining where Kobe Bryant belongs among basketball's greats. First ballot Hall of Famer .. duh. Top five all-time .. maybe. All I can say is that the more I read the arguments, the more I realize that comparing players from different eras is damn near impossible in basketball.
As I've slowly but surely read my way through Bill Simmons' "The Book of Basketball", I've learned just how much the game of basketball has changed over the years. I've come to realize that comparing players over the course of history is probably harder with basketball than any other sport. The game now is drastically different than it was in the 1970s. The players have changed, even the court has changed.
So how do you place players among the greats? I honestly believe that you can't for many reasons. The game was so different in different times. Comparing centers to point guards is like apples to oranges. There were great scorers who didn't play defense, there were defensive stalwarts who didn't score a lot of points. I mean, how do you compare Bryant to Scottie Pippen even though they were both small forwards? Bryant was a pure scorer while Pippen was a distributer and a defender. Both great players, but very difficult to compare.
So how should we view Kobe Bryant? Why not call a spade a spade?
If remember one thing about Kobe Bryant it will be this: aside from MJ, I have never seen a better pure scorer than Kobe Bryant. Granted I never saw any of the greats before the 1990s like Bird or Kareem or Wilt, but only two players have scored more points in the history of the NBA than Kobe Bryant. Ever. Only one player has scored more points in a single game than Kobe Bryant. Ever.
But let's forget the numbers, because I'm sure we all know about the cray offensive numbers Kobe Bryant has put up over the course of his career. When I think of Kobe Bryant, I think of a guy who was capable of scoring at any moment the ball was in his hands. He could break you down off the dribble and take it to the rim or pull up for a jumper. He'd shoot threes right in your face. He could catch and shoot as fast as anyone. Yeah he was selfish, but that comes from his seemingly unwavering confidence that he could score from anywhere at any time. All he needed was the ball.
For me I think that's the most difficult thing watching his career wind down like this. He was such an incredible scorer for so long, and his confidence in his ability to score is so strong that he is either unable or unwilling to let himself let up in these final months of his career. He wants to believe that he can still put the ball in the basket even though it is painfully obvious that he is merely a shell of his former self. It would be great if he could go out averaging 25 a game, but unfortunately it doesn't look like that is in the cards.
You can try to rank the basketball greats if you want, but personally I think it's damn near impossible to factor everything in and come up with a definitive list. When it comes to Kobe Bryant, I'll remember the guy who I put with MJ as the greatest scorers I've ever seen play the game.
Even if I don't like him very much.
-matt
When Bryant announced on the Player's Tribune a few weeks ago that he was retiring at the end of the season (read it here), I felt a sense of relief. Not just because of my dislike towards him, or what he tends to do to the Toronto Raptors, but also because I thought ending his playing career was the right thing to do since his skills were clearly on a steep downslope and his health was rapidly deteriorating. Then I looked at his stats for the season ... and realized maybe he was a few years too late.
You never want to see the greats forced to call it quits. You never want to see someone end their career because their body simply can't do it anymore. You never want to see someone end their career because they are simply too slow or don't have the necessary skills to compete at the highest level anymore. When it happens, it's like watching a slow motion car crash. You don't want to see it happen, but when it does you just can't look away. We're talking about the 3rd highest scorer in NBA history going out and scoring 12 points on 20 shots (terrible) for 30% shooting from the floor (atrocious). It would have been like Derek Jeter batting below the Mendoza line in his final season. It is no way to end a career.
And wouldn't you know it, as I'm writing this, Bryant is in the process of putting up 21-8-4 while shooting 8-for-16 against the Raptors. Again, he has this knack for scoring points against the Raps.
Not surprisingly in today's world, basketball pundits have already taken on the task of determining where Kobe Bryant belongs among basketball's greats. First ballot Hall of Famer .. duh. Top five all-time .. maybe. All I can say is that the more I read the arguments, the more I realize that comparing players from different eras is damn near impossible in basketball.
As I've slowly but surely read my way through Bill Simmons' "The Book of Basketball", I've learned just how much the game of basketball has changed over the years. I've come to realize that comparing players over the course of history is probably harder with basketball than any other sport. The game now is drastically different than it was in the 1970s. The players have changed, even the court has changed.
So how do you place players among the greats? I honestly believe that you can't for many reasons. The game was so different in different times. Comparing centers to point guards is like apples to oranges. There were great scorers who didn't play defense, there were defensive stalwarts who didn't score a lot of points. I mean, how do you compare Bryant to Scottie Pippen even though they were both small forwards? Bryant was a pure scorer while Pippen was a distributer and a defender. Both great players, but very difficult to compare.
So how should we view Kobe Bryant? Why not call a spade a spade?
If remember one thing about Kobe Bryant it will be this: aside from MJ, I have never seen a better pure scorer than Kobe Bryant. Granted I never saw any of the greats before the 1990s like Bird or Kareem or Wilt, but only two players have scored more points in the history of the NBA than Kobe Bryant. Ever. Only one player has scored more points in a single game than Kobe Bryant. Ever.
But let's forget the numbers, because I'm sure we all know about the cray offensive numbers Kobe Bryant has put up over the course of his career. When I think of Kobe Bryant, I think of a guy who was capable of scoring at any moment the ball was in his hands. He could break you down off the dribble and take it to the rim or pull up for a jumper. He'd shoot threes right in your face. He could catch and shoot as fast as anyone. Yeah he was selfish, but that comes from his seemingly unwavering confidence that he could score from anywhere at any time. All he needed was the ball.
For me I think that's the most difficult thing watching his career wind down like this. He was such an incredible scorer for so long, and his confidence in his ability to score is so strong that he is either unable or unwilling to let himself let up in these final months of his career. He wants to believe that he can still put the ball in the basket even though it is painfully obvious that he is merely a shell of his former self. It would be great if he could go out averaging 25 a game, but unfortunately it doesn't look like that is in the cards.
You can try to rank the basketball greats if you want, but personally I think it's damn near impossible to factor everything in and come up with a definitive list. When it comes to Kobe Bryant, I'll remember the guy who I put with MJ as the greatest scorers I've ever seen play the game.
Even if I don't like him very much.
-matt
Monday, November 30, 2015
Back In Business
It is often said that sometimes you have to walk away from something to really appreciate it. In many cases I believe this to be true, but in all honesty, I wasn't sure what would happen if I took a hiatus from playing hockey.
My one year sabbatical from the crease wasn't entirely intentional. I was new to the city, I didn't really know a lot of people, and I wasn't willing to commit to a league mostly because I didn't want to deal with the nonsense that I've learned inevitably comes with playing even slightly competitive hockey. So I did what I did when I moved to Alberta and had absolutely no avenues for playing hockey: I put an ad on Kijiji.
My boss suggested this when I told him I was looking for some ice, and it worked. In a town like Grande Prairie, that was so transient and constantly had people coming and going, people were always looking for goaltenders. I got calls just about every week, and some of the stories about the guys I was filling in for were hilarious (didn't you hear? Gary took off to Fort St. John with some broad last week and no one has seen him since). Hell, at one point my boss even asked me to come play with his crew.
Doing the same in Toronto didn't quite work as nicely last year. I waited too long, it was probably December before I finally realized oh shit, it's hockey season, I gotta find some ice. The problem was that I backed myself into a bit of a corner. I committed to playing basketball twice a week. I had band practice every week. When I would sit down and look at my calendar each week, there was not a lot of empty space for hockey.
Then the calls and emails started coming. Guys were always asking me to play when I was already busy with band or basketball or a concert or a plethora of other things. Sorry, I'm busy. Guys would want me to drive all the way to Scarborough or North York in the middle of the night. Sorry, can't do it. One guy asked me if I wanted to join a competitive league. Thanks, but no thanks.
Next thing I knew it was March, the snow was melting, and it was time to get ready for baseball season. The whole season and I hadn't played once. In fact, I had only put my skates on twice all winter: once at Christmas to skate with my brother in law and my nephew at the public skate, and once at Arrowhead to skate on the outdoor rink through the woods (which is awesome by the way, check it out).
In all honesty, I wasn't too broken up about it. My interest in hockey had been waning and reached a point where I didn't watch a single NHL playoff game last season. Not one. College basketball had firmly taken over as the winter sport of choice to watch and I was surprised at how well I played basketball that winter. I wasn't great, but I had some good games and felt like I still had some jumpshots and rebounds left in me.
In late April, the Altus Cup, my company's annual hockey tournament, rolled around and I saw an opportunity to at least get SOME hockey in and have some fun with co-workers. As an added incentive it was being held in Montreal and in my experience, when you get a chance to go to Montreal, you go to Montreal. I signed up immediately, dusted off my goalie pads, and was really looking forward to it.
Until the organizer announced that there were too many goalies.
Wait .. what? Too many goalies? It was not a mistake, there were nine goaltenders and only eight teams.
I took one for the team and told the organizer I would play out. When I saw the stream of emails from the other eight goalies that contained variations of "I don't have equipment and I don't know how to skate" I figured I pretty much had to. I have player equipment and I can skate. What the hell I'll chase the puck around the ice instead of stop it.
Now, don't even for a second think that I did not have an absolute blast at this tournament, because I did, but being on regular skates for the first time in probably five years was uncomfortable to say the least. I thought I did okay playing the left wing, but the frustration of missing the net with every scoring chance and having to really think about where I was supposed to be on the ice .. it wasn't the same as just skating into the blue paint and letting my instincts and muscle memory take care of the rest.
Some of you may find this hard to believe, but going into the summer I was seriously considering hanging up the skates. No really, I almost convinced myself that I was done playing hockey, that the hassle factor had outweighed the funness factor.
Yet, somehow I couldn't bring myself to get rid of my equipment. I'd look at it, my pads with the Justin Pogge colour scheme that I absolutely love (probably the only good that came from Justin Pogge); the blocker I've had for almost a decade covered in puck marks; the matching glove that is slowly falling apart and being held together with a series of Arturs Irbe-esque self-repair jobs; the sketches I've done for a custom paint job on my mask that may or may not happen some day. Much like the allure of the cool equipment possessed me to become a goaltender in the first place, it could very well be the reason I ultimately decided to stick with it.
Now here I am in late November. I've skated several times. And I'm loving it.
I got on it early this season. I took my skates to the hockey shop down the street to get them sharpened early. I put my ad up on Kijiji early. I told myself that I would give it one more honest go and make up my mind if I was done or not. It didn't take long for me to figure out that I've still got some saves left. There have been some reasonable calls for me to play, and I've enjoyed it so much that even 6:50am on a Saturday seems reasonable (kind of). Most importantly, I'm having fun with it. These guys don't care that I'm rusty, or that my rebound control isn't very good, or that my angles are not quite right. They're just glad they're not shooting at the goal posts. Those things will come, a year is a long time to be away from the crease. It feels good, I feel good. Game on.
So in the off chance you hear any rumours out there that I'm retiring from hockey any time soon, pay no attention. Completely. Untrue.
-matt
My one year sabbatical from the crease wasn't entirely intentional. I was new to the city, I didn't really know a lot of people, and I wasn't willing to commit to a league mostly because I didn't want to deal with the nonsense that I've learned inevitably comes with playing even slightly competitive hockey. So I did what I did when I moved to Alberta and had absolutely no avenues for playing hockey: I put an ad on Kijiji.
My boss suggested this when I told him I was looking for some ice, and it worked. In a town like Grande Prairie, that was so transient and constantly had people coming and going, people were always looking for goaltenders. I got calls just about every week, and some of the stories about the guys I was filling in for were hilarious (didn't you hear? Gary took off to Fort St. John with some broad last week and no one has seen him since). Hell, at one point my boss even asked me to come play with his crew.
Doing the same in Toronto didn't quite work as nicely last year. I waited too long, it was probably December before I finally realized oh shit, it's hockey season, I gotta find some ice. The problem was that I backed myself into a bit of a corner. I committed to playing basketball twice a week. I had band practice every week. When I would sit down and look at my calendar each week, there was not a lot of empty space for hockey.
Then the calls and emails started coming. Guys were always asking me to play when I was already busy with band or basketball or a concert or a plethora of other things. Sorry, I'm busy. Guys would want me to drive all the way to Scarborough or North York in the middle of the night. Sorry, can't do it. One guy asked me if I wanted to join a competitive league. Thanks, but no thanks.
Next thing I knew it was March, the snow was melting, and it was time to get ready for baseball season. The whole season and I hadn't played once. In fact, I had only put my skates on twice all winter: once at Christmas to skate with my brother in law and my nephew at the public skate, and once at Arrowhead to skate on the outdoor rink through the woods (which is awesome by the way, check it out).
In all honesty, I wasn't too broken up about it. My interest in hockey had been waning and reached a point where I didn't watch a single NHL playoff game last season. Not one. College basketball had firmly taken over as the winter sport of choice to watch and I was surprised at how well I played basketball that winter. I wasn't great, but I had some good games and felt like I still had some jumpshots and rebounds left in me.
In late April, the Altus Cup, my company's annual hockey tournament, rolled around and I saw an opportunity to at least get SOME hockey in and have some fun with co-workers. As an added incentive it was being held in Montreal and in my experience, when you get a chance to go to Montreal, you go to Montreal. I signed up immediately, dusted off my goalie pads, and was really looking forward to it.
Until the organizer announced that there were too many goalies.
Wait .. what? Too many goalies? It was not a mistake, there were nine goaltenders and only eight teams.
I took one for the team and told the organizer I would play out. When I saw the stream of emails from the other eight goalies that contained variations of "I don't have equipment and I don't know how to skate" I figured I pretty much had to. I have player equipment and I can skate. What the hell I'll chase the puck around the ice instead of stop it.
Now, don't even for a second think that I did not have an absolute blast at this tournament, because I did, but being on regular skates for the first time in probably five years was uncomfortable to say the least. I thought I did okay playing the left wing, but the frustration of missing the net with every scoring chance and having to really think about where I was supposed to be on the ice .. it wasn't the same as just skating into the blue paint and letting my instincts and muscle memory take care of the rest.
Some of you may find this hard to believe, but going into the summer I was seriously considering hanging up the skates. No really, I almost convinced myself that I was done playing hockey, that the hassle factor had outweighed the funness factor.
Yet, somehow I couldn't bring myself to get rid of my equipment. I'd look at it, my pads with the Justin Pogge colour scheme that I absolutely love (probably the only good that came from Justin Pogge); the blocker I've had for almost a decade covered in puck marks; the matching glove that is slowly falling apart and being held together with a series of Arturs Irbe-esque self-repair jobs; the sketches I've done for a custom paint job on my mask that may or may not happen some day. Much like the allure of the cool equipment possessed me to become a goaltender in the first place, it could very well be the reason I ultimately decided to stick with it.
Now here I am in late November. I've skated several times. And I'm loving it.
I got on it early this season. I took my skates to the hockey shop down the street to get them sharpened early. I put my ad up on Kijiji early. I told myself that I would give it one more honest go and make up my mind if I was done or not. It didn't take long for me to figure out that I've still got some saves left. There have been some reasonable calls for me to play, and I've enjoyed it so much that even 6:50am on a Saturday seems reasonable (kind of). Most importantly, I'm having fun with it. These guys don't care that I'm rusty, or that my rebound control isn't very good, or that my angles are not quite right. They're just glad they're not shooting at the goal posts. Those things will come, a year is a long time to be away from the crease. It feels good, I feel good. Game on.
So in the off chance you hear any rumours out there that I'm retiring from hockey any time soon, pay no attention. Completely. Untrue.
-matt
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Take Out ... Slide?
Controversy inevitably rears its ugly head in almost any playoff, and last night it appeared in rather spectacular fashion in Game 2 of the NLDS between the Mets and Dodgers. What would turn out to be one of the decisive plays in the game is one that is going to be the focal point of debate for quite some time.
In the 7th inning, with the Mets leading 2-1 on the back of a pretty solid pitching performance from Noah Syndergaard in his post-season debut, the Dodgers threatened with runners on first and third and one out. Howie Kendrick hit a ground ball up the middle that was fielded by Daniel Murphy who flipped the ball to shortstop Ruben Tejada covering second. As Tejada turned, presumably to spin and fire to first to attempt to complete the double play, Chase Utley took him out. The tying run scored from third in the process. Two batters later Adrian Gonzalez doubled to the wall and then scored as Jacob Turner followed suit. That put the Dodgers up 5-2. That was the ball game.
The problem was Utley's takeout ... slide. It wasn't a takeout slide, it was more like a barrel-roll hipcheck that sent Tejada head over heels and ultimately broke his leg. Not only could it barely be considered a slide, it was late as Utley was well past second base when he dropped down, and wasn't completely on the ground when he made contact with Tejada. In short, it was probably the dirtiest attempt to break up a double play that I have ever seen.
Then of course the umpires made a complete mess of the situation as Tejada was being tended to before eventually being carted off the field. The Dodgers challenged the play and it was ruled that even though Chase Utley never touched second base (in fact, he was never within a one foot radius of it), he was safe because Tejada's foot missed second base by about half an inch, and because Utley was called out, he never had the opportunity to reach back a touch the bag. Hmmm.
This was the third such collision I had observed in the 2015 MLB Postseason, slides in which the runner advancing to second base on a ground ball started their slide past second base and made zero attempt to touch it, instead zeroing in on the middle infielder trying to turn the double play. I was wondering how much longer this trend would go on before something bad would happen. Turns out last night was it.
The unfortunate truth is that in most sports it takes an incident like this before anything happens. Even more unfortunate is that a rule actually exists to help protect middle infielders from these types of collisions, but MLB has chosen for years to completely ignore it. In fact, I can't recall a single instance in which an umpire has called interference on a takeout slide. Why? Who knows.
Then of course the dinosaurs that played in the 1970s (cough, Pete Rose, cough) come out and say it's hard baseball or its always been part of the game or any other number of antiquated cliches justifying this macho show of power which serves only to injure an opposing player. News bulletin: We entered the 21st century 15 years ago, get with the times please.
I thought Ken Rosenthal said it best: "It is illogical to have a rule protecting catchers and not one protecting middle infielders. Needs to change." I'm with him 100%. Time to help protect middle infielders. And that's not to suggest that baseball should eliminate these collisions entirely or that runners need to go out of their way to avoid contact, but they need to get these dirty blatant takeout slides that serve only to put the middle infielder on his ass out of the game. Instead of the current code that says the runner needs to be close enough that he can theoretically touch the base, how about forcing the runner to actually touch the base?
I've always been a hard-nosed ball player who tried to play the game "the right way" as they say. I've tried to break up my share of double plays in my day, and even succeeded a few times. It's gotten me in trouble before, and after I actually did injure a player doing it several years ago (thankfully, not severely), I realized that I had to stop. Going for a player and trying to knock them down was just asking for trouble. That's not who I am, or at least not who I want to be.
So I stopped going for the fielder specifically. My own personal rule now is aim for whatever corner of the base the fielder is closest to and slide straight into it. Don't go after the guy, go after the base. If there's contact, there's contact, but I felt like I needed to change my mentality before something really bad happened. As it happens, even that isn't good enough for certain shortstops out in Mississauga, but that's a whole different story. I don't think that's an unreasonable compromise, and maybe it's something that MLB needs to consider. If these guys are really trying to get to second base and not the fielder, then maybe they should have to actually get to second base.
Part of the reason I love baseball so much is that it is almost purely a skill game. There's none of this macho intimidation chest thumping non-sense you see in contact sports like hockey or football. No scrums after whistles. No guys yelling after a big body check or tackle to try to intimidate his opponents. Incidents like these, and the home plate collisions of yesterday are exciting for about a split second until you realize that the catcher has been knocked out cold or has a broken leg. Is it really worth it?
I think it's important to remember that these are human beings playing what is supposed to be a non-contact sport. No one wants to see anyone get hurt on a baseball field.
At least they shouldn't.
-matt
In the 7th inning, with the Mets leading 2-1 on the back of a pretty solid pitching performance from Noah Syndergaard in his post-season debut, the Dodgers threatened with runners on first and third and one out. Howie Kendrick hit a ground ball up the middle that was fielded by Daniel Murphy who flipped the ball to shortstop Ruben Tejada covering second. As Tejada turned, presumably to spin and fire to first to attempt to complete the double play, Chase Utley took him out. The tying run scored from third in the process. Two batters later Adrian Gonzalez doubled to the wall and then scored as Jacob Turner followed suit. That put the Dodgers up 5-2. That was the ball game.
The problem was Utley's takeout ... slide. It wasn't a takeout slide, it was more like a barrel-roll hipcheck that sent Tejada head over heels and ultimately broke his leg. Not only could it barely be considered a slide, it was late as Utley was well past second base when he dropped down, and wasn't completely on the ground when he made contact with Tejada. In short, it was probably the dirtiest attempt to break up a double play that I have ever seen.
Then of course the umpires made a complete mess of the situation as Tejada was being tended to before eventually being carted off the field. The Dodgers challenged the play and it was ruled that even though Chase Utley never touched second base (in fact, he was never within a one foot radius of it), he was safe because Tejada's foot missed second base by about half an inch, and because Utley was called out, he never had the opportunity to reach back a touch the bag. Hmmm.
This was the third such collision I had observed in the 2015 MLB Postseason, slides in which the runner advancing to second base on a ground ball started their slide past second base and made zero attempt to touch it, instead zeroing in on the middle infielder trying to turn the double play. I was wondering how much longer this trend would go on before something bad would happen. Turns out last night was it.
The unfortunate truth is that in most sports it takes an incident like this before anything happens. Even more unfortunate is that a rule actually exists to help protect middle infielders from these types of collisions, but MLB has chosen for years to completely ignore it. In fact, I can't recall a single instance in which an umpire has called interference on a takeout slide. Why? Who knows.
Then of course the dinosaurs that played in the 1970s (cough, Pete Rose, cough) come out and say it's hard baseball or its always been part of the game or any other number of antiquated cliches justifying this macho show of power which serves only to injure an opposing player. News bulletin: We entered the 21st century 15 years ago, get with the times please.
I thought Ken Rosenthal said it best: "It is illogical to have a rule protecting catchers and not one protecting middle infielders. Needs to change." I'm with him 100%. Time to help protect middle infielders. And that's not to suggest that baseball should eliminate these collisions entirely or that runners need to go out of their way to avoid contact, but they need to get these dirty blatant takeout slides that serve only to put the middle infielder on his ass out of the game. Instead of the current code that says the runner needs to be close enough that he can theoretically touch the base, how about forcing the runner to actually touch the base?
I've always been a hard-nosed ball player who tried to play the game "the right way" as they say. I've tried to break up my share of double plays in my day, and even succeeded a few times. It's gotten me in trouble before, and after I actually did injure a player doing it several years ago (thankfully, not severely), I realized that I had to stop. Going for a player and trying to knock them down was just asking for trouble. That's not who I am, or at least not who I want to be.
So I stopped going for the fielder specifically. My own personal rule now is aim for whatever corner of the base the fielder is closest to and slide straight into it. Don't go after the guy, go after the base. If there's contact, there's contact, but I felt like I needed to change my mentality before something really bad happened. As it happens, even that isn't good enough for certain shortstops out in Mississauga, but that's a whole different story. I don't think that's an unreasonable compromise, and maybe it's something that MLB needs to consider. If these guys are really trying to get to second base and not the fielder, then maybe they should have to actually get to second base.
Part of the reason I love baseball so much is that it is almost purely a skill game. There's none of this macho intimidation chest thumping non-sense you see in contact sports like hockey or football. No scrums after whistles. No guys yelling after a big body check or tackle to try to intimidate his opponents. Incidents like these, and the home plate collisions of yesterday are exciting for about a split second until you realize that the catcher has been knocked out cold or has a broken leg. Is it really worth it?
I think it's important to remember that these are human beings playing what is supposed to be a non-contact sport. No one wants to see anyone get hurt on a baseball field.
At least they shouldn't.
-matt
Sunday, September 13, 2015
The Post Mortem
It's 8:28pm, right about the time I should be switching from the subway to the Bathurst streetcar in order to get to the diamond and be ready to play by 9:30. Instead, I'm sitting at home reading a James Bond novel. No, it isn't raining. The other team, not surprisingly, decided to forfeit the late Sunday evening game that meant nothing since we were both eliminated from the playoffs. A season ending forfeit. Great.
It seems a fitting end to what I would probably describe as a disappointing baseball season in general.
I lacked consistency. I made brutal gaffes in the field. The things I pride myself on as a ball player, getting on base and playing rock solid defense in the outfield, they just weren't there all the time.
I spent the season on two teams that I never really felt totally comfortable with. Half the time I didn't feel like I was really ready to play. For the first time probably ever, I often didn't feel quite right on the field.
Maybe it was adjusting to playing ball in the city, where the trip to the ballpark now involves various combinations of driving, subwaying, and streetcaring, a farcry from the 10 minute drive I've been accustomed to while playing in small town Canada. Maybe I was letting myself get too distracted with those pesky off-field things. You know, some people call it life. Working at a job that I like about 80% of the time, but don't really love. Wondering if maybe I should do something about it. Being a single guy in his 30s and trying really hard not to be a single guy in his 30s. Wondering what I did wrong this time or if I did anything wrong at all. I'll admit I spent time in the outfield thinking about those sorts of things instead of the game.
The silver lining is that I've learned a few things:
1. I'm getting old(er). And it sucks.
I figure I've gone about as far as I can strictly on my talent and athleticism. If I'm going to keep playing the way I want to at the level I want to, I've gotta put my work in or else I'm going to slow down. I could feel it this season, at times I was sluggish out there. My reaction time wasn't quite there. Towards the end of the season, my body was feeling it more than it ever has. Even more than last season when I played 57 games.
2. Baseball is a game, and games are supposed to be fun.
Sometimes people ask me if I even have fun playing baseball. And after this season especially I can understand why people might ask me that. Slumps are not fun, especially when they seem to last forever, but that's no reason not to enjoy the game. No one is keeping stats (that I know of). Ten years from now I'm not going to remember how I hit in a particular game. What I'm going to remember are the fun times, whether it was a diving catch in the outfield or our third baseman doing a face plant two steps out of the batter's box after hitting a groundball. If shit happens, it's better just to forget about it because when I look back at my days playing ball, I'm not going to remember that one game where I went 0-for or when that lazy fly ball sailed over my head.
3. Shortstops don't like it when you slide straight into the base on a force play at second.
Yeah, this one kind of surprised me.
4. When t-shirts are on the line, shit gets cray.
It's pretty amazing how wound up some people get over the prospect of getting t-shirts as a prize for winning the league championship.
5. Give yourself an extra 25 minutes on the Bathurst streetcar if you want to make first pitch.
This is just good general knowledge.
6. Cleats are not always necessary.
One of the highlights of the season was when I did my best Ricky Henderson impression and hit an inside the park home run to lead off the game ... without my cleats on.
7. The subway can be fun sometimes.
The looks I got from people while galavanting around on the subway Sunday nights in my full baseball regalia were often hilarious.
8. Dress for success.
The thing I will probably miss the most about this season is no longer wearing my green and white striped stirrups. They were the best socks in the league by a long shot.
See you in the spring.
-matt
It seems a fitting end to what I would probably describe as a disappointing baseball season in general.
I lacked consistency. I made brutal gaffes in the field. The things I pride myself on as a ball player, getting on base and playing rock solid defense in the outfield, they just weren't there all the time.
I spent the season on two teams that I never really felt totally comfortable with. Half the time I didn't feel like I was really ready to play. For the first time probably ever, I often didn't feel quite right on the field.
Maybe it was adjusting to playing ball in the city, where the trip to the ballpark now involves various combinations of driving, subwaying, and streetcaring, a farcry from the 10 minute drive I've been accustomed to while playing in small town Canada. Maybe I was letting myself get too distracted with those pesky off-field things. You know, some people call it life. Working at a job that I like about 80% of the time, but don't really love. Wondering if maybe I should do something about it. Being a single guy in his 30s and trying really hard not to be a single guy in his 30s. Wondering what I did wrong this time or if I did anything wrong at all. I'll admit I spent time in the outfield thinking about those sorts of things instead of the game.
The silver lining is that I've learned a few things:
1. I'm getting old(er). And it sucks.
I figure I've gone about as far as I can strictly on my talent and athleticism. If I'm going to keep playing the way I want to at the level I want to, I've gotta put my work in or else I'm going to slow down. I could feel it this season, at times I was sluggish out there. My reaction time wasn't quite there. Towards the end of the season, my body was feeling it more than it ever has. Even more than last season when I played 57 games.
2. Baseball is a game, and games are supposed to be fun.
Sometimes people ask me if I even have fun playing baseball. And after this season especially I can understand why people might ask me that. Slumps are not fun, especially when they seem to last forever, but that's no reason not to enjoy the game. No one is keeping stats (that I know of). Ten years from now I'm not going to remember how I hit in a particular game. What I'm going to remember are the fun times, whether it was a diving catch in the outfield or our third baseman doing a face plant two steps out of the batter's box after hitting a groundball. If shit happens, it's better just to forget about it because when I look back at my days playing ball, I'm not going to remember that one game where I went 0-for or when that lazy fly ball sailed over my head.
3. Shortstops don't like it when you slide straight into the base on a force play at second.
Yeah, this one kind of surprised me.
4. When t-shirts are on the line, shit gets cray.
It's pretty amazing how wound up some people get over the prospect of getting t-shirts as a prize for winning the league championship.
5. Give yourself an extra 25 minutes on the Bathurst streetcar if you want to make first pitch.
This is just good general knowledge.
6. Cleats are not always necessary.
One of the highlights of the season was when I did my best Ricky Henderson impression and hit an inside the park home run to lead off the game ... without my cleats on.
7. The subway can be fun sometimes.
The looks I got from people while galavanting around on the subway Sunday nights in my full baseball regalia were often hilarious.
8. Dress for success.
The thing I will probably miss the most about this season is no longer wearing my green and white striped stirrups. They were the best socks in the league by a long shot.
See you in the spring.
-matt
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