Reaping the Gayle Storm

Posted on April 23, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook

Here at Right Off the Bat we’ve had occasion in the past to wax lyrical about Chris Gayle, the West Indian opening batsman and destroyer of bowling attacks, but today’s destruction requires a special mention. In the course of only 66 balls, Gayle smashed 175 runs not out. His was the highest score in Indian Premier League history, and indeed the highest individual total in Twenty20 history. He reached his century in only 30 balls, making his the fastest century in any form of professional cricket since records began. His total included a brain-melting 17—yes, seventeen, sixes: the highest number ever scored in any innings. Gayle’s knock helped his side, Royal Challengers Bangalore, to reach 263-5, the largest total ever scored in the IPL or in Twenty20 history. RCB’s challengers, the Pune Warriors, didn’t know where to put the ball.

Gayle has a certain stillness at the crease that makes what he does seem effortless. He’s tall and strong and he wields a heavy bat, but it’s his preternatural calmness and casual ability to loft any delivery high into the stands (or, in today’s case, onto and then over the roof of the stadium) that gives him a special aura. “Rampage” was one of the words used to describe Gayle’s performance today in Bangalore, and it’s hard to disagree with the choice of words. Here is the man himself talking about his innings—with a bit of Telagu thrown in at the end.

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DH; or, Designated Hebrew

Posted on April 21, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
The first DH in baseball history unveils hisstory.

The first DH in baseball history unveils “his-story.”

It’s been forty years (and two weeks) in the wilderness. Ron Blomberg became the first DH on April 6, 1973. From Atlanta and still living there, Blomberg—whom I (Evander) had the pleasure to meet a year ago—went thro his own major-league problems. And not just as an oft-injured “might-have-been-second-coming-of Mickey Mantle” With the revisionist (though valuable) 42 “a hit” with moviegoers, I would like to reflect on several aspects of the Jewish Experience in baseball, in some (as well as indirect) way as it relates to the recent two-score anniversary of the DH—originally dubbed the Designated Pinch Hitter (DPH).

Blomberg’s 2006-memoir Designated Hebrew carries a foreword by the Jewish Marty Appel with as-told-to credit for Dan Schlossberg. The Jewish contribution to baseball, among the 160 or so out of 17,000 who have played on the major-league level, is significant in a number of ways. Hank Greenberg, playing for the National League Pittsburgh Pirates late in his career, was one of the big supporters of Jackie Robinson in his turbulent 1947-season debut.

Today, how many realize Greenberg’s leadership role, not to mention the vicious anti-Semitism this New Yorker endured, particularly on the road in the 1930s and 1940s? Has anyone heard of “The Rabbi of Swat?” This was one Moses Solomon, who made it out of the minor leagues for a cup of coffee with the New York Giants. (He did bat higher than Ty Cobb for his career: .375; but over two games.) More famous (and accomplished) is Moe Berg, a spy during World War II and polyglot—reputed to be conversant in eleven languages. In the 1965 World Series, when Sandy Koufax would not pitch on a Jewish holiday, gentile Don Drysdale got the start. But Drysdale, a Hall of Famer himself, did not have it that afternoon against the Minnesota Twins. He quipped to Dodgers manager Walter Alston (also now in Cooperstown), “I bet you wish I were Jewish also!” Koufax’s career was virtually salvaged by one person: Fellow New York Jew Norm Sherry coaxed the underachieving pitcher not to try striking out every batter he faced.

As we write in our book (and hardly a startling observation), there can only be one person who is first in anything. As Blomberg points out in his entertaining memoir, Hall of Famer Orlando Cepeda, then of the Red Sox, should have been the first DH. It is one of the quirks of the game and simple twists of fate that the visiting-Jewish-opponent Yankee (RB) got the opportunity over the hometown-Hispanic Cepeda (whom I am certain endured the prejudices of white fans, writers, and front-office executives of an earlier era). Ron walked, and his bat is encased in Cooperstown. Rarely has a bat, or any piece of baseball equipment, been enshrined for being a part of less action.

Blomberg, like all the players (who are at least as conservatively tradition-bound as their fans) of the era, was astonished by the new DH rule of 1973. This was the era of gimmicks and no one was more gimmick-meister than Charley Finley. He not only encouraged the DH rule, he resorted in Kansas City to a Pennant Porch (modeled on Yankee Stadium, for short-distance home runs), mechanical rabbits with balls that popped up from the underground for home-plate umpires, mule-mascots, and certainly, when his team moved to Oakland and was of championship caliber, prime-time night games for the World Series. Finley even pushed for the DR: designated runner, for the slowest afoot on any club.

For good or ill, the DH prevails on all levels of baseball, internationally, with the exception of Jackie Robinson’s National League.

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Home-run “Darby”

Posted on April 21, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
What will they think of next?

What will they think of next?

Although we at the Right Off the Bat Project are hardly enamored of the mere distance baseballs are hit, like anyone else we do sometimes feel that size—as measured by trajectory—matters. April 17 was the sixtieth anniversary ushering in an era: that of the so-called tape-measure home run, by a raw Mickey Mantle, which was crushed for a possible distance of 565 feet in Washington’s old Griffith Stadium. (It is since claimed that the ball continued to roll, and thus did not travel in the air all that way when it was retrieved.) May 22 will be the fiftieth anniversary of the ball Mantle nearly launched out of the original Yankee Stadium, a feat accomplished by no player during a regular-season or postseason game.

Many, many major-league home runs were hit between 1876 and 1996, and they are all covered in this book from SABR (Society for American Baseball Research). Some of the great mashers, not just by the numbers but in terms of power as measured by flight, include the aforementioned Mantle, Jimmie Foxx, Ted Williams, Dick (Richie) Allen, Reggie Jackson, Frank Howard, Frank Robinson, Dave Kingman, George Foster, Mark McGwire (who hit the longest home run I [Evander] ever witnessed at a ballpark, on opening day 1997, off Mariano Rivera no less), Darryl Stawberry (who finished his career with 1,000 RBI), and Josh Hamilton. Needless to say, Babe Ruth remains the Sultan of Swat and a special case: to other ballplayers as Shakespeare is to all writers. Regarding Mantle, a switch-hitter, it is surmised that he hit homers from both sides of the plate, at a distance of at least 450 feet, in every American League Stadium during his career (1951-68).

From the same year the SABR Home Run Encyclopedia was published comes this fascinating, highly recommended if quirky article. Note: the Bill Dickey epigraph is almost certainly about tyro Mantle, ca. 1951. Below, watch the smart-alecky, insouciant Reggie crank one of the most memorable long-distance dingers ever.

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The Curious Simplicity of Cricket and Baseball

Posted on April 5, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook

As I (Martin) watched Tim Lincecum of the San Francisco Giants plying his trade against the Los Angeles Dodgers the other night, one thought kept running through my mind: baseball is such a simple game. A ball, a bat, and some fielders: all in the same positions, give or take a little shimmy to the left or right depending on which way the batter holds his ash-spear. Yet, even as I recognized baseball’s simplicity, I had a concurrent thought: which doesn’t mean that it’s easy. To land a ball in or around home plate—or to convince the batter to swing at a ball—takes years of countless errors and misfires to make it look simple; to reach the stage where you can at least hit a ball coming at you at 90 m.p.h. (or more) one time out of four takes an equally long time of failure and flailing.

The annual cricketing slogfest that is the Indian Premier League has just begun. As I watched Dale Steyn of the Sunrisers Hyderabad dismantle the lower order of the Pune Warriors, I was struck by the same thought (albeit in reverse): cricket is such a complicated game. Sure, there was a ball, a bat, and some fielders: yet they were in all sorts of positions, and there were two batsmen, and then stumps, and a complicated scoreboard, and . . . yikes.

Yet, even as I recognized cricket’s complexity, I had a concurrent thought: which doesn’t mean that it’s not simple as well. After all, the same amount of time practicing with bat and ball obtains as in baseball, with similar rates of failure and misfires. But what unites cricket and baseball is how much patience is required for the guy holding the piece of wood to wait . . . and wait . . . and wait to choose the right ball to hit. So much depends, in both games—by instinct, with skill and training, or through experience—on not doing what you so want to do: which is hit the hide off the ball without getting out.

It’s that via negativa—what T. S. Eliot called “the way of dispossession”—that make both  baseball and cricket so fascinating—and why to call them “simple” or “complex” games is only to point to the very opposite inherent in either game that makes the simplicity or complexity possible.

Posted in Baseball, Cricket, IPL | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Be Sure to Check out “42”

Posted on April 4, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook

As promised last fall, the new Jackie Robinson biopic, 42, is soon opening. Here is pretty much a rave from hardened society-and-film columnist Liz Smith. She is already talking Academy Award nominations, barely a month after the recent lackluster Oscars show—even as 2012 was one of the best years in memory for films. More to the point, the photos included in Liz’s column are not the same old same old, and there is other Jackie Robinson-related news in the piece. Robinson’s widow, going strong at ninety (he died prematurely, at fifty three), has much to say on the film. You’ll want to check out the trailer.

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Deandra Dottin

Posted on March 29, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
Deandra Dottin

Deandra Dottin: Get out your helmets!

It’s come to our notice that we don’t talk enough about women on Right Off the Bat. So, we’re going to rectify that in the next few weeks by profiling some of the leading figures in the world of cricket. First off, we have the West Indies all-rounder Deandra Dottin, who, even though her team didn’t win the recent Women’s World Cup in India, nonetheless made a big impression with the ball and, even more so, with the bat. Dottin, whose hero is the imperious maestro and insouciant destroyer Vivian Richards, not only hits the ball equivalently as hard as the legendary Antiguan, but has the same swagger and confidence as the great man. Like Richards, she also brings a welcome edge to the game, a certain braggadoccio that can only be good for bringing more crowds to the women’s game. Here’s a Dottin cameo in the World Cup tournament, against New Zealand.

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Clash of the All Too Human

Posted on March 29, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
Matt Prior

Matt Prior: You mean you want me to save the day, AGAIN?

After some last-day heroics from Matt Prior, about whom we’ve already waxed lyrical on these pages, the England cricket team managed to draw their three-Test series with New Zealand, 0-0. It wasn’t meant to be this way: England are currently ranked second in Test rankings, and the Kiwis are a lowly eighth. England was meant to clean up, 3–o. As it turned out, England were saved by the weather in the first match, thwarted by it in the second, and had to resort to classic rearguard defensiveness to avoid being embarrassed in the third. Although the England camp denies it, complacency was clearly an issue for the English: they underestimated a hard-working and talented New Zealand side, who were being led by the pugnacious and attacking captaincy of Brendon McCullum, who out-thought and out-strategized his still-learning opposite number, Alastair Cook.

England now return home to play two Test matches against New Zealand before embarking on their defense of the Ashes against Australia later in the summer. It is by no means sure that England will find it any easier beating New Zealand in England than they did in the Antipodes, since the weather conditions are likely to be the same. If the English don’t put up more of a fight, then they’ll be in iffy form for the Ashes.

On the other hand, their opponents couldn’t be in more disarray if they tried. Having been beaten comprehensively in India by India (4–0)—after England beat India (2–1), also in India—Australian morale is probably at its lowest ebb in thirty years. Captain courageous Michael Clarke is injured, and the bowling unit (while full of talent) remains inconsistent, except for the ever-reliable Peter Siddle. The bowlers are miles ahead of the batsmen, however, who failed to post competitive totals against Indian spinners, and won’t be relishing the prospect of facing a rejuvenated Graeme Swann, who missed the New Zealand tour with an elbow injury.

Although the Ashes has long since forfeited its place as the clash of the titans in cricketing mythology, it nonetheless promises to be a very interesting contest—not least because both teams are off their game and vulnerable. South Africa, whose depth and strength continue to impress, must be enjoying the frailties of their nearest competitors, as they lengthen the distance in the ICC Test rankings between their side and the rest of the cricketing world.

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Predicting the 2013 Baseball Season

Posted on March 29, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
Forecasting baseball future, Kabbalah-style

Forecasting baseball future, Kabbalah-style

The 2013 baseball season, which opens on April Fools’ Day, promises to make a fool of all prognosticators. Nothing new in this. How could one imagine the Fall Classic when spring has barely sprung? To make things even a little more eyebrow-raising, there are a couple of new wrinkles (on the old forehead) this time around. One, interleague play will start early in the season. Two, the Houston Astros, solidly a National League (NL) franchise, will find a home in the ultra-tough American League (AL) West. It will be a long, hot summer in Houston: I (Evander) can guess “we have a problem” with a certain confidence. The leagues now have an even number of clubs. Whether an Astros-Rangers rivalry will develop right away is hard to imagine…or not to imagine.

What about the Yankees? Winners of a cosmic 27 championships: The team that everyone loves or loves to hate. The Yanks also feature more middle-aged men than a twenty-fifth high-school reunion. Mariano Rivera, coming off a devastating knee injury, was born in the 1960s—the last player left standing from the Woodstock Nation era. Will Robinson Cano spit the bit (in those endearing, enduring 1970s words from the late George Steinbrenner) as he did in the playoffs against the Detroit Tigers? (Over the final weeks, he was batting an astonishing, soft-pitch beer-league .600 into the postseason.) Already on the DL one finds Phil Hughes, Mark Teixeira, Curtis Granderson, Derek Jeter, and Alex Rodriguez. “Tex Message” and/or (more probably) A-Rod might be lost for the year. And the beat goes on.

Continuing with the AL East, conventional wisdom has it as the strongest in Major League Baseball. Eighty-six wins may be enough to get into the playoffs. I don’t expect any team to run away, and the Red Sox may surprise: phenom Jackie Bradley Jr. helps make that Bosox outfield. Although the Baltimore Orioles were an amazing 16-2 (sixteen consecutive wins after the two losses) in extra-inning games, and compiled a record of 29-9 in one-run games, plus were 74-0 (!) in games they led after seven innings—all unimaginable to repeat—the Boys from Birdland are my choice for this division, there being no such thing as the law of averages. I like Matt Wieters; I like Manny Machado; I like Nick Markakis; and Jim Johnson will be out to prove last season was no fluke in the closer role. Though still tightly wound as a woodpecker, Buck Showalter is one of the best managers, working with a record-setting number of players, called up and sent down, last season. We’ll see if Showalter can again play Miracle Worker. (Still “for the birds,” the Blue Jays, hiding behind open doors if not under their open-retractable roof, by—again those dirty words—conventional wisdom would make the most noise with the largest number of significant additions during this long Canadian winter. I believe many of these will have a hard time playing 81 games on the Rogers Centre carpet.)

The AL Central is a little-less difficult to piece together. The Tigers are far and away the cream of the Central. I suspect they will make less of an adventure of this season than they did last. The quality showed in the sweep of the Yankees to arrive at the World Series. The team features the best pitcher in baseball (Justin Verlander, re-signed for chump change: an $180-million extension, basically to 2020); reigning Triple Crown winner Miguel Cabrera (the last Triple Crown was won in 1967, the one before 1966, and prior to that 1956 by Mickey Mantle, in what to my memory [I cannot locate the source at present] Bill James has essentially described, mathematically, as the greatest impact season by any slugger ever); boxcar-sized Prince Fielder; and a wonderful manager in Jim Leyland. Unsuspected by many: the Minnesota Twins, led by equally great manager Ron Gardenhire, the Twinkies still have the M&M (Mauer and Morneau) Boys, and maybe better starting pitching beyond seemingly always-troubled Carl Pavano.

The only sure thing in the AL West is the addition patsies, the Astros. The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, the Oakland Athletics, the Rangers should all beat up on the Stros. I am going with the Angels. Having wooed Josh Hamilton from Texas, the Angels lineup also features Mike Trout, who had the greatest everyday-player rookie season I can recall in forty years (Fred Lynn) and possibly longer ago than that. If not for Miguel Cabrera, Trout would have added an MVP to his Rookie of the Year hardware. Top-of-the-line slugger Albert Pujols came around after a less-than-spectacular debut under the klieg lights of Hollywood. It is difficult to discount the Rangers or the always-cunning and surprising Oakland Athletics, a club I tagged for first place a season before they were ready for that finish. The Seattle Mariners are offensively challenged, even with Jesus Montero (who was traded from the Yankees for apparently damaged-goods Michael Pineda) but have what might be the second-best pitcher in baseball, King Felix. Perhaps they will be better than they are on paper. But as Martin and I say in Right Off the Bat (not a startling observation among the many we do make in our book) in a different context, only one person (or team) could be first in anything, and that looks to be the team in Anaheim.

The NL East belongs to the Washington Nationals. The Mets, still financially reeling from the Madoff scandal and doing all the things a small-market team would, have lost R. A. Dickey to free agency and Johan Santana to possibly career-ending arm woes. Owner of the only no-hitter in franchise history, Santana was clearly overused in 2012. David Wright injured his ribs in the World Baseball Cup and will miss opening day after signing on for a cool $138 million: the one big-market investment the club decided to make. Rib injuries are notoriously pesky. The Nats have genius-manager Davey Johnson at the wheel, and are stacked with talent: fireballer Stephen Strasburg, Ian Desmond, Bryce Harper, et al. The Atlanta Braves will be in it. The rapidly aging Philadelphia Phillies should rebound, barring injuries. The Miami Marlins are an unknown entity. They may surprise even after the fire sale. I like their funky, 2012-era, Caribbean-exotic-inspired stadium a lot.

For the Central, there seems the one question: Cardinals or Reds? Cincinnati is taking a gamble with Aroldis Chapman in the rotation—a notion abandoned just as the season hatched. He is the hardest thrower in major-league baseball if measured by a single pitch. (Verlander ratchets it up in the eighth inning, which makes him a special case.) The Reds, the venerable franchise, have locked up key players and are the defending division champs. St. Louis has depth in the pen along with the intangibles of history and that mighty fan base—which survived the departure of Pujols. I always like the Milwaukee Brewers: the steroids-tainted Ryan Braun, Carlos Gomez, Norichika Aoki, Aramis Ramirez, and the Andrew McCutchen-led Pittsburgh Pirates will eventually finish above .500, living up to their ballpark, PNC, even already at the age of twelve by received accounts perhaps the most stunning and “pure” of all in Major League Baseball—not that Wrigley Field takes “a backseat” to any venue. But Theo Epstein probably will not be raising a championship flag to his pennant-challenged franchise in 13. I see the Cardinals by a nose.

The Los Angeles Dodgers have surpassed the Yankees in payroll. Like New York and Chicago, two teams compete for fans and dollars in L.A. The Dodgers finished second in the West last season. Mr. Sensational, Matt Kemp, ought to be back for the whole campaign following a Mr. Toad-like 2012, and is joined in an All-Star outfield by Andre Ethier and Carl Crawford—who should regain his form having been a bust in Boston. Adrian Gonzalez is almost right up there with his cross-Freeway rival, Albert Pujols, Don Mattingly is now a seasoned manager, Clayton Kershaw is Mr. K for all the obvious reasons. However, my pick is the San Francisco Giants. The chemistry on the Giants is near-perfect: Sandoval, Scutaro, Posey, Lincecum, Wilson (The Beard!). Buster Poesy was just inked to a cool nine-year-$167-million deal. It is difficult to vote against the Champs. San Diego and Arizona ought to improve. The Rockies play in the stadium that least favors the home team, and it is difficult to see a good finish with the Dodgers and Giants on top.

Wild Card picks: Yankees, Rangers, Reds, Dodgers.

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Evander and Lomke

Posted on March 22, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
Evander and Martin

Evander (left) and Martin in action

We gave a presentation to about 30 folks on Right Off the Bat at Sts. John and Paul’s Church in Larchmont, NY, on March 20th. We had a blast and the audience was very appreciative. Here’s a photo of us in action. Evander is the one with the hat!

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The Debut to End All Debuts

Posted on March 16, 2013 by rightoffthebatbook
Shikhar Dharwan

Shikhar Dhawan respectfully requests that he be considered for the Indian cricket team.

You’re a batter who’s reached the age of twenty-seven, scoring freely and often in the minor leagues, and yet you’ve been prevented from entering  the majors because the guy you’d be replacing is a slugger of such renown that to drop him seems impossible, even though his form is obviously slipping. But then the impossible happens: the slugger gets dropped and you’re given your first game. What do you do? Take it cautiously? Ease in gently? Lower expectations?

Well, if you’re Shikhar Dhawan of India, you come out and score the fastest century (100 runs) on debut in the history of cricket; you then score the most runs ever by an Indian player on debut; and at the end of the day’s play you find yourself 186 not out and with plenty of opportunity to break more records.  You could not make a more compelling case for future inclusion. You could not send a more compelling signal to the man you replaced, the genial bulldozer Virender Sehwag, to hang up his boots. And you could not offer a more compelling example for the Indian selectors to pay a little more attention to the young guns rather than coddle the old stalwarts.

It’s no secret (or shame) that India has for some time been choosing players on box-office appeal as opposed to current form: V. V. S. Laxman (now retired) was classy and elegant, and stayed perhaps two years beyond his sell-by date; Sehwag was another, who clearly can no longer rely on phenomenal hand–eye coordination to make up for his increasing ossification at the crease and in the field. The spinner Harbhajan Singh, who’s recently completed his hundredth Test match for India, has effectively been pushed out by Ravichandran Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja, both of whom can bat better than Harbhajan, and simply are more of a threat with the ball.

The elephant in the room is Sachin Tendulkar—currently immoveable at number four in the batting order, and clearly not the player he once was. Tendulkar has played 196 Test matches (one of the many records he holds). Are we all—including the Little Master—just waiting for him to reach 200? And is there another Dhawan waiting in the wings to show just how little the Great Man will be missed?

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