Showing posts with label I miss the god damn playoffs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I miss the god damn playoffs. Show all posts

October 27, 2010

This is the season ...


It begins tonight, the post-Chris Bosh era. And without a lot of -- any? -- bloody optimism. But the show, horrific as it might be, must go on. The Maple Leafs went through it when Mats Sundin skipped town. The Blue Jays when their relationship with Roy Halladay ended, albeit amicably. It's now the Raptors' turn. A right of passage, in a way, to what is a new and youthful era -- and hopefully more goddamn successful -- for Toronto's big three sports teams.

And as is always the case before tip off, this is the season.

The season Andrea Bargnani realizes he's seven feet tall, averages nine rebounds a game, and becomes a premier help defender.

This is the season of The Young Onez ...




The season DeMar DeRozan, after learning the ropes, proves that he does indeed "got us." The season Amir Johnson sticks it to all of us who said he'll never live up to his massive contract. The season Sonny Weems proves March and April 2010 were no fluke.

This is the season Leandro Barbosa, only 28 years old next month, returns to form.

The season Linas Kleiza, fresh off his European sabbatical, important for any 25-year-old, makes the most of an opportunity, and thrives.

This is the season Reggie Evans is healthy, and rebounds. Until he's traded.

The season Jose Calderon learns how to play def... Nevermind. Let's not get crazy.

This is the season Jarrett Jack becomes a legitimate starting point guard in the NBA.

The season Jay Triano figures it out.

I know what you're thinking. I agree; that's a whole lot of "this is the season." There's only so much "this is the season" to go around.

But there's one more. The most important one. This is the season the Toronto Raptors, to a man, take their team's projected 26.5 wins personally. And win 30. Bet the over. I did.




This is the season. Until it's not. Then it's the season after.

Image of the chosen one courtesy The Associated Press, via Yahoo! Sports.

October 26, 2010

A twist in the narrative


A day later, and I still don't know much about John Farrell.

He left Cleveland; there's certainly nothing surprising about that. He won a World Series in Boston. He turned down job interviews while waiting for the right opportunity to manage. Today, he's a Blue Jay. While the headlines read that the Toronto chose John Farrell, John Farrell, in fact, chose Toronto. In a welcome break from what we've gotten far too used to around here, Toronto, for once, was the ideal situation. And, damn, does it ever feel good to be wanted.

Farrell's a pitching coach. He's tutored the young arms of Jon Lester, Clay Buchholz, and Daniel Bard. (Yeah, he's worked with Josh Beckett, John Lackey, Jonathan Papelbon, and strike zone hater Daisuke Matsuzaka, too, but let's just focus on the kids.) And I'm sure you'll agree that pitching coaches have had a way of endearing themselves to us in recent years. While I don't remember much of the Mark Connor and Gil Patterson eras, Brad Arnsberg and the fan base, we were close. Five years, it was a good run. It was tough to watch him take his talents to Houston, and we thought we'd miss him, until Bruce Walton came from Arnsberg's very bullpen and into our lives.

Now they'll work together, Farrell and Walton, and I expect nothing less than the opposite of Cito Gaston's reign of bullpen terror. They'll work with Brian Butterfold, too, who isn't heading south to Baltimore to join his pal Buck Showalter, which is telling in its own right. Butter didn't get the job he wanted; it was his goal to manage the Blue Jays. But even in his disappointment, he too picked Toronto. Double rainbow.

Farrell's hiring is sweeter in the knowledge that he joins the Blue Jays from the Boston Red Sox, and that they're -- both organization and Massholes fans -- smarting over his departure in New England. The Bostons and New Yorks, they take far too much from everybody else in baseball. It's nice to snatch one of theirs.

I don't know how Farrell will manage. Nobody does. He's never done it before. But if he takes to his new job the way Alex Anthopoulos took to his, the Blue Jays are in good hands. Experience; it's overrated. While we may not know a lot about Farrell -- we don't even know how many years he's expected to be in town -- we know without a doubt that Anthopoulos chose him having done the due-st of due diligence. And if Anthopoulos doesn't yet have your trust, I don't think he ever will. 

Farrell chose to come to Toronto. Butter chose to stay in Toronto. If it were up to Manny Ramirez, he'd pick Toronto. And let me tell you, I could get used to this. It almost makes me wonder: what does Cliff Lee think of our fine city?

*Update: It's a three-year deal. That sneaky Anthopoulos!

Image of a styling Mr. Farrell courtesy of Reuters, via daylife. 

October 24, 2010

Playoffs!!!1*

This one comes to us via uber-CFL blogger Andrew Bucholtz ...


*I know, it's the Argos. But during heady times, beggars can't be choosers.

(CFL) Playoffs!!!1

October 14, 2010

If Joe Posnanski ruled the world ...



"You kind of took it for granted around the Yankees that there was always going to be baseball in October." 
- Whitey Ford

That's got to apply to their fans, the Yankees faithful, too. It has to. I'm 28 years old. The Toronto Blue Jays have played in the postseason five times in my lifetime, winning, of course, two World Series. And let's be honest: I was far too young in 1985 and 1989 to truly give a damn. Were I a Yankees fan, those numbers would be 15 and five, respectively. And let's not kid ourselves: 14 straight years of October baseball in the Bronx -- 1995 through 2008 -- would have made me the most insufferable Yankees fan of them all.

I bring all this up because of Joe Posnanski's latest blog post. If it were up to him, he'd do away with the wild card and go back to baseball's old format: "two divisions in each league, a championship series, then a World Series." Posnanski would also not "be opposed to getting rid of the playoffs altogether and just taking the best team from each league and going right to the World Series."

No playoffs. "Getting rid of the playoffs altogether." Imagine such a baseball world. Fear it. God help the Blue Jays if Posnanski's ever running the show.

In all seriousness, the Posnanski piece is a thoughtful one. He's right: this year's race to the top of the American League East wasn't a race at all. It was a joke. And in the end, as is usually the case, the Minnesota Twins were the punchline. Anyway, Posnanski understands that if the playoffs were shortened, the economics of the game would have to be changed. He also understands that it's not going to happen; that there's no looking back on the wild card now, yo. And that's a good thing, because I'm all for the idea to add another wild card into the mix, and have two wild card teams face off in a best of three -- not a best of one; baseball doesn't roll that way --to determine who moves on to play in the division series'. Hell, I hope the change is in effect for next season.

I used to think the baseball season was too long. A hundred and 62 games? Are you kidding me? Now I realize it's the perfect length. Every game matters. Ask the San Diego Padres. Adding another wild card team makes one through 162 matter even more. Is this interest self-serving, so the Blue Jays can one day qualify for the playoffs? Absolutely. Toronto needs all the help it can get to scale the mountain, and end their almost two-decades long drought. Other than "Toronto Maple Leafs" and "Toronto Blue Jays," the blog label I've used the most at Sports And The City is "I miss the god damn playoffs." Were I in charge, I think everyone might make the playoffs. One versus 30, two versus 29, and so on. Playoffs for everybody!

While we're talking about October baseball, how about Saturday night: Lincecum against Halladay. The Freak versus The Doctor. Quite possibly the apex of a pitching matchup in the playoffs. I can't wait. And I'm grateful, Baseball Gods. Thank you. 

The photograph above -- me in about 40 years -- comes to you from Getty Images, via Yahoo!

October 07, 2010

Celebrating Doctober at Big League Stew

 

The post below -- a Blue Jays fan's take on watching Roy Halladay's no-hitter -- has been cross-posted from Big League Stew. A hearty thanks to 'Duk for having me.

Roy Halladay's first postseason start was 12 years, 2,297.1 innings and 346 games in the making.

It was well worth the wait.

I'm going to be honest with you: As soon asShane Victorino slid safely into home plate in the bottom of the first inning on Wednesday, giving Halladay and thePhiladelphia Phillies a 1-0 lead, a little voice in my head sprang to life:

"No-hitter," it said.

Yes, in the first inning. Know why? Because I'm from Toronto. My name's Navin, I'm a Blue Jays fan, and I've watched Roy Halladay pitch many more times than you have. And along with my Canadian brethren north of the 49th, we're not surprised by what transpired at Citizens Bank Park.

Because, much like Doc's perfect game in the regular season, we knew that history was coming. When you've watched him as often as we have, you come to expect greatness. And perfection — or as close as you can come to it.

We know that Harry Leroy Halladay III has always risen to the occasion. In his second start as a professional, way back in 1998, Doc was one out away from a no-hitter at the SkyDome before Bobby Higginson went and ruined the party. He followed it up with more of a decade of battling and beating the beasts of the American League East. He has always known how to make an entrance.

Why would the playoffs be any different?

I'd be lying if I said Jays fans aren't conflicted. To root, or not to root, for Doc. Over the past 10 days, Stoeten at Drunk Jays Fans has let it be known that he finds it "kinda pathetic" for Jays fans to be rooting for another team's success no matter who's pitching.

The Tao of Stieb, the most thought-provoking in the powerhouse that is the Blue Jays blogosphere, wrote: "So, yeah. Knock 'em dead Doc. Show the world how great you are. And go **** yourself while you're at it."

But while I respect those two writers greatly, I do not share their sentiments. Not since 2006, whenCarlos Delgado was a member of the New York Mets, have I had such a vested interest in Major League Baseball's playoffs. I'm rooting for Halladay. I'm rooting for the Phillies. Doc left Toronto to chase a ring, and I want him to get it.

Was it bittersweet, watching Halladay throw a no-hitter, and forever tying his name to Don Larsen's while wearing a red uniform instead of a Blue Jays jersey? Of course it is.

Would I trade Halladay's gem for one Blue Jays postseason game? Say, Ricky Romero and Toronto, instead of David Price and Tampa Bay, facing Cliff Lee and the Texas Rangers? Without a doubt.

But I don't have that option right now. Because Toronto is without postseason baseball for the 17th straight season, Doctober is as good as it gets.

Look, I'm tired of the "why should I cheer for my ex-girlfriend?" analogy. We're not talking relationships, here. We're talking baseball. The window closed on Halladay's time in Toronto, and, before it did for good, the Blue Jays made the right decision in sending their ace to Philadelphia, receiving prospects in return.

What's there to be bitter about? Doc gave us his formative years. And a rebuilding Blue Jays franchise won 85 games in 2010, after being predicted to finish below the Baltimore OrioLOLes. A young, cost-effective, and efficient starting rotation let it be known that the clubhouse was a more enjoyable and relaxed place to be, minus Halladay. Doc didn't ask to be traded, like Scott Rolen. He didn't opt-out of his contract, likeA.J. Burnett. With the Blue Jays headed in the right direction, but once again on the outside looking in at the postseason, what the hell is wrong with celebrating Doctober?

I'm also sick of the "We've known Doc was this good for the past five years!" complaints. The bitterness towards the American media, and casual baseball fans, who are only now learning about the greatness that is Roy Halladay, is absurd. Look, the real baseball fans know about Doc. The real baseball fans have always known about Doc. The same way I know, living in Toronto, thousands of miles east of Seattle, that Felix Hernandez deserves the 2010 Cy Young Award.

I dealt with the woe is me emotions, and the bitterness, in the aftermath of Halladay's perfect game, back in May. I was disappointed, and hurt. Yeah, it should have happened in a Toronto Blue Jays uniform. But it didn't. And, more than than anything, I'm glad it happened, period. I've overcome. Doc's one of baseball's "good guys." He deserves every ounce of success he's earned. He's the sole reason I went to the Rogers Centre in 2009.

What we in Toronto always wanted, always desired, was the opportunity to watch Halladay pitch in the postseason. Well, it's finally happened. Doc just happens to be wearing a Phillies uniform while doing it. Unfortunate? Sure, yeah, it is. But Halladay in the playoffs as a Phillie is better than Halladay not in the playoffs at all.

And in the end, it isn't about the Blue Jays, or the Phillies, or any team for that matter. It's about a man born to pitch in October, finally getting his chance to do just that.

And the best part?

Doctober's only begun.

"I just wanted to pitch in the postseason. ... To go out and have a game like that, it's a dream come true." — Roy Halladay

Epic image courtesy of Getty Images via Yahoo! Sports.

October 06, 2010

The Oregon Trail


I've always wanted to do this. I figured, what better day to make it happen than the day before the Toronto Maple Leafs begin the 2010/2011 regular season with a trashing of the Montreal Canadiens. Ladies and gentlemen, Brian Burke and the Toronto Maple Leafs hit The Oregon Trail. Think of it as a microcosm of the Leafs' journey towards the promised land; towards Lord Stanley's Cup.

If you don't know what The Oregon Trail is, I'm old, and may God have mercy on your soul. Let's do this.

To begin, we've got three choices. To be:

1) A banker from Boston.
2) A carpenter from Ohio.
3) A farmer from Illinois.

Brian Burke's from Rhode Island, which is pretty much Boston. And while he's a lawyer, he's general manager of the Maple Leafs, with millions upon millions at his disposal, which in Oregon Trail speak makes him a banker.

The four Maple Leafs traveling with Mr. Burke are:


Phil Kessel. After dealing two first-round picks, and more, to get him, Burke's fate is tied to #81's. Dion Phaneuf. Acquired in another trade, he's now Burke's captain. Tyler Bozak. Burke's prized collegiate free-agent signing who's now expected to be a legit number one center. And, last but certainly not least, Tomas Kaberle. For my own sentimental reasons.

The journey to Oregon begins in April. Ironic, considering that's when the 2010/2011 Maple Leafs so desperately want to be playing their best any hockey. Before they set out, with $1,600 to spend, supplies had to be bought. And being the richest banker from Boston certainly helped in this regard. Burkie made it rain.

Two oxen to a yoke. Three were recommended, but Burke bought four. Two-hundred pounds of food were recommended for the team. Burke bought 250. Yes, one of Burke's priorities had been to change the culture around the Maple Leafs, and he would, but they had to eat. Also: Burke had to spend most of his money, otherwise deal with annoying fan unrest. Ten sets of clothes were recommended. Burke bought 15. Think of it as new jerseys for each person half-way through the journey. Twenty boxes of 200 bullets were bought. Burke's an avid hunter, yo. Throw in two wagon wheels, two wagon axles, and two wagon tongues, and the Maple Leafs were set to go, with $1,140 left under The Oregon Trail cap.


Before the Maple Leafs wagon set off for glory, Burke had to set the pace: steady, strenuous, or grueling? With the Kessel trade, Burke had given building steadily through the draft the middle finger. Two of them, actually. One for each first-round pick. So, the pace was obvious: Grueling. The Leafs' road to the Stanley Cup wasn't going to go down Chicago Blackhawks or Pittsburgh Penguins style. Burke was doing it his way, and fast.

What about meals?


Bare bones. From day one, Burke had set about changing the culture of the Toronto Maple Leafs. For far too long had players in the Maple Leafs dressing room been eating filling meals.

On April 2nd, the journey began, and 102 miles into Toronto's quest, they came upon the Kansas River crossing. Burke didn't bother to look around; the team's ultimate goal lay thousands of miles away.

Burke had three options:

1) Ford the river: pull his wagon across the shallowest part of the 5.7 feet deep, and 635 feet wide, Kansas River, with his oxen still attached.
2) Caulk the wagon: seal his wagon so that no water could get in, and then float the wagon across the river.
3) Use a ferry: have the Leafs' wagon placed on a boat and sail it across the river.

Burke, a tall man full of confidence, wanted to ford the river. But with deep MLSE pockets at his disposal, he chose to caulk his wagon, and take fewer risks. I know, not very Burke like. Rumour has it he was overruled by the suits upstairs at MLSE. Always meddling, those guys.

Regardless, it worked.


From the Kansas River crossing, it was 83 miles to the Big Blue River crossing. The Leafs made it in no time, having traveled 185 miles up until that point. Their health fair, and the weather warming up, Burke decided to throw them a bone. Rations were changed from bare bones to meager. Meals were "small, but adequate."

The Big Blue River was only 245 feet across, and 4.4 feet deep in the middle. Burke, carrying a ton of gear, once again went the conservative route. The Leafs caulked the river, with no problems, and set off for Fort Kearney, 119 miles away.

Still on the grueling pace they set out with, the Leafs made it to Fort Kearney in no time, and Burke chose to carry on, right away. It was 250 miles to Chimney Rock, and the team's health was fair.

On April 11th, the Leafs faced their first test. With hot weather rolling through the Midwest, one of the oxen was injured. That's life in the NHL, on The Oregon Trail. Burke was prepared, having bought four oxen, and he summoned one from the farm to step up and fill the void.

On April 12th, some more bad news: Phil Kessel was suffering from cholera. The man Burke traded two first-round picks, and more, for, was in ill health. Burke was not a happy man. A day later, the team's morale down, and in the hopes of improving his young sniper's health, Burke slowed the team's pace from grueling, to steady. Kessel's well-being was paramount, Burke told Oregon Trail reporters.

To ease his troubled mind, Burke went hunting, and it went well. Seventy-two of meat pounds well, to be exact.


His team feeling better, Burke's Leafs set off once more. On April 20th, 66 miles from their next landmark, their health had improved to fair. Spirits were high, and, on April 24th, the Leafs arrived at Chimney Rock, where they proceeded to rest for a couple of days. Team bonding exercise, Burke said. Gives everyone a chance to get to know each other a little better. On April 26th, the Leafs' wagon was back on the trail, 86 miles out of Fort Laramie.

They arrived on May 1st, the weather fair, along with the team's health. But they were low on food. With $1,140 left in cap space, Burke visited the market, and picked up 200 more pounds.

From Fort Laramie, it was 190 miles to Independence Rock.


Along the way, Burke stopped to hunt. As general manager of the Toronto Maple Leafs, Burke promised himself he would never stop hunting for ways to make his team better. On this particular occasion, it didn't go so well.


On May 5th, Phil Kessel got lost, costing the Leafs one day. At least he was feeling better, Burke told himself.

On May 9th, the Leafs' wagon went down the wrong trail, and cost themselves another day. It was all part of the process, Burke told reporters. A team had to get lost before it could find its way.

On May 16th, Dion Phaneuf came down with dysentery. Dysentery! Not cool. With his captain suffering from severe diarrhea, fever, and abdominal pain, Burke rested his troops for two full days. They set out again on May 18th, and arrived at Independence Rock on May 23rd, having traveled 830 miles. Only 32 pounds of food remained.

At Independence Rock, Burke put on his trading hat. He had his boys at a steady pace, and was feeding them meager rations, but he needed some food. Burke was offered 197 bullets for one set of clothing. No deal. Another GM came at him asking for 201 pounds of food. Like first-round draft picks, Burke didn't have that amount. Another offer: 53 pounds of food for one box of ammunition. Burke didn't have 53 pounds of food! He was incredulous. A fourth offer: two wagon wheels for one ox. Burke declined. He was focused on food. Finally, he found a deal worth making: one wagon axle for 45 pounds of food. Deal.

On May 29th, the Leafs set off for South Pass. Buoyed by the trade, and another few days rest, Burke decided to use his rifle some more. He did even better this time ...


Burke killed a total of 1,001 pounds of meat. Unfortunately, he was only able to carry 100 pounds back to the Leafs' wagon. So it goes. With only 115 pounds of food left, Burke set rations back to bare bones. "If you want it, you've got to earn it. You've got to stay hungry, and pay the price," he told the beat grunts. On May 31st, Burke had another successful hunting outing: 55 pounds of meat.

On June 3rd, still on their way to South Pass, Kessel came down with a fever. Burke elected to rest his men for one day. Kessel was a star, after all. And Burke had to take care of his stars.

On June 5th, more bad news: one of the oxen had died. The one who'd been called up from the minors. It had given its all. On the same day, after the oxen who was in the lineup on opening night was activated from the injured list, the Leafs' wagon stumbled upon an abandon wagon, with 42 bullets inside. Finders keepers, Burke told himself. Three days later, Burke learned from reporters that it was the Vancouver Canucks' wagon he'd found, and that Canucks GM Mike Gillis had lodged a formal complaint with the league. He wanted his 42 bullets back.

On June 5th, less than a week away from South Pass, the Leafs' health was fair, their pace steady. Then, on June 10th, suddenly, tragedy:


As soon as he'd arrived, Phil Kessel was gone. No rhyme or reason. Not even an explanation. One day he was fine, and his cholera was a thing of the past. The next, he was gone. Brian Burke, and Kessel's teammates, especially Bozak, were inconsolable. But Burke refused to let grief consume them. He ordered the Leafs to move on, and on June 11th, they arrived at South Pass.

Rattled by the sudden passing of Kessel, Burke gave the team a few days off. In the meanwhile, he tried to land some more food via the trade route. He finally got a half decent offer -- one set of clothing for 35 pounds of food -- and accepted.

On June 15th, halfway through their journey, their pace steady and their rations still bare bones, the Leafs took off once again. And it was here that Burke was faced with an important decision: head for Fort Bridger, or the Green River Crossing. Needing to stock up on food, it was a no-brainer. To the fort, 125 miles away.

On June 18th, with the team running out of water, and in poor health, Burke stopped to hunt. Of course, he didn't return empty-handed. He threw 100 pounds of bear meat into the wagon. And, now that Kessel was gone, Burke increased rations for his team from bare bones to meager. Kessel would have wanted it that way.

On June 28th, 1057 miles into their journey, Burke and the Leafs arrived at Fort Bridger. Burke, in an ornery mood as usual, bought one ox, and 500 pounds of food. With over $885 still left to spend, never would his Maple Leafs go hungry again.

From Fort Bridger, it was 162 miles to Soda Springs, and, after losing the trail, and one day in the process, Burke set his wagon's pace to strenuous. His troops were eating better, so they might as well move a little faster. On July 8th, the Leafs lost the trail once again, and this time lost five days. Had coach Ron Wilson been on the wagon, he'd have surely been fired that day.

Finally, on July 14th, the Leafs arrived at Soda Springs. The weather was hot, and the team's health fair. Over 1,200 miles had been logged by the hard-working oxen. But it was only 57 miles to Fort Hall, so Toronto's wagon kept on moving. At Fort Hall, Burke bought one wagon axle, and 200 pounds of food. With his team's health fair, Burke changed their pace back to steady. Phil Kessel still weighed heavily on his mind. Two first-round picks, yo. Tyler Seguin! It put things in perspective. There was no rush. Slow and steady wins the race.

From Fort Hall, it was 182 miles to the Snake River Crossing. And this is where I, Navin, thought to myself: "This game seemed a helluva lot shorter in elementary school."

On July 22nd, Tomas Kaberle was suffering from exhaustion. Such a gamer, the Czech defenceman. In Kessel's absence, it was Kaberle who picked up the slack. Burke noticed, and promptly gave the team five days rest. He was taking no chances. On July 27th, the sun beating down, and the team's health fair, the Leafs' wagon returned to the trail.

On August 11th, after losing the trail for three days, the Leafs, tired but with plenty of food, made it to Snake River crossing. They'd traveled just under 1,500 miles. The Snake River was 1,000 feet across, and six feet deep. Burke took the latter as an omen, and, thanks to his deep pockets, hired a Native-Indian to guide the Leafs across the river. The Shoshoni guide asked for three sets of clothing in return. Deal, said Burke, and the Leafs' wagon made it across the river without issue.

Having crossed Snake River, it was 114 miles to Fort Boise, and Burke's Leafs lost one day, August 15th, thanks to heavy fog. That same day, Kaberle broke his leg. Poor Tomas, Burke thought. He just can't catch a break. (Pardon the pun.) Burke decided to rest the group for four days. He needed Kaberle for the stretch run.

On August 26th, an ox went down to injury, once again. It was the same ox that had been injured earlier in the journey, and it blamed the Leafs' trainers for rushing it back into action. Two days later, the ox was dead. Burke may have killed it. We'll never know.

On August 30th, 1,257 miles in the books, his team in poor health, and the weather turning cool, Burke's Leafs arrived at Fort Boise.


Fort Boise was the second-last fort on the journey. Even though Burke was carrying 346 pounds of food, he bought 300 pounds more, and changed his team's rations to filling. It was the stretch run; they were going to eat well. Burke also bought two oxen, and still had over $560 to spend. Think of Fort Boise as the trade deadline. Burke did. And he stocked up. The Leafs were going to do it for Phil Kessel, and stitched a massive 81 to the top of their wagon.

A hundred and sixty miles from the Blue Mountains, on August 30th, Bozak came down with cholera. Burke trudged on. On September 2nd, one of the oxen was injured. Burke knew he had to rest, and set up shop for five days. With time of the essence, Burke changed his wagon's pace to strenuous as he returned to the trail on September 7th.

On September 16th, the Leafs made it to the Blue Mountains. It was getting colder, but the team was in good spirits, having covered 1,732 miles. Again, Burke was faced with a decision: head for the Dulles River, or Fort Walla Walla.

For once, Burke went against his gut. He chose Fort Walla Walla, only 55 miles away. He did it for Kessel. He didn't want to lose Bozak, or Kaberle, or his captain, Dion.

On September 19th, his team's health extremely poor, Burke's wagon pulled into Fort Walla Walla. With 400 pounds of food still left, Burke bought 200 pounds more. He'd never run out. Thanks to a fanbase that supposedly won't support a rebuild, but that filled the building through the Raycroft and Toskala eras, Burke had cash to burn.

From Fort Walla Walla, it was 120 miles to the Dulles River. But Kaberle was breaking down. Burke knew it. On September 20th, Kaberle was bit by a snake. The snake was named, oddly enough, Cam Janssen. Tomas soldiered on. He was a veteran. And, deep down, Burke was proud of him. Proud that he'd not traded #15, and proud that he'd brought him on The Oregon Trail.

On September 27th, Burke and his boys reached the Dulles River. The weather was warm, their health poor, but they'd made it. Nobody reached the Dulles in good health. The Oregon Trail was a war. The toughest trail to conquer in professional sports. With over 500 pounds of food to spare, and having traveled over 1,900 miles, Burke gave the Leafs two days off, before their final journey. Before game seven.

From the Dulles, the trail divided once more. Burke had a decision: float down the Columbia River, or take the Barlow toll road. He'd come too far. And, at many times, conservatively. He was a Maple Leaf, through and through, however, and Burke led his Leafs to the banks of the Columbia River.


Countless rocks and boulders. Burke and the Leafs dodged them all.

On September 29th, they arrived in Oregon. They'd made it. The Toronto Maple Leafs were Oregon Trail champions. And they did it for Phil Kessel.

September 28, 2010

I want to go to the playoffs with Roy Halladay


Bittersweet. How else to describe watching Roy Halladay punch his ticket to the post-season? Of course Doc was on the mound for the Philadelphia Phillies Monday night. Of course Doc threw another complete game shutout to make it official. The Baseball Gods, they work in brilliant ways.

On the same night Halladay's Phillies clinched the National League East, the Toronto Blue Jays clinched a .500 season. Symmetry, yo. Doc's got what he wanted: a chance to win the World Series. And the Blue Jays, well, they're doing alright. They're on the righteous path. Remember, 2010 was supposed to be a disaster of biblical proportions. I'm talking below the OrioLOLes in the standings, apocalyptic-type shit. Nine months after trading the face of their franchise, and the best pitcher they've ever employed, there exists a quiet confidence that Alex Anthopoulos will lead the Blue Jays out of the abyss.

Thanks to that confidence, I was able to enjoy Halladay's moment in the sun. I know, it was actually raining in Washington, D.C., but, whatever. The point is: it's all worked out rather nicely. Considering what we've heard from the youthful Blue Jays pitching staff, they're glad they're not sharing a locker room with Halladay anymore. And I get that. Think about it: nobody wants to work with the most intense cat in the office. Especially when they're that much better than you. Toronto was no longer the time and place for Harry Leroy Halladay III. Philadelphia is.

I've gone through a bloody gamut of emotions when it comes to Doc. Anger. Sadness. Happiness. Elation, confusion, and bitterness, all in the aftermath of his perfect game. When the Jays and Phillies faced off in June, I wanted nothing more than for Toronto to pummel Doc. (Like how they slap around A.J. Burnett. It's fun!) But this -- Halladay Season in October -- is what I've always wanted. Since that fateful day in September, way back in 1998. While I never had any desire to go to the zoo with Roy Halladay, I sure as hell wanted to go to the playoffs with Roy Halladay.

The debate in Toronto has begun: Cincinnati or Philadelphia? Reds or Phillies? Canadian superstar Joey Votto, with a side of Scott Rolen, or Doc? Just last week, I'd have told you I wasn't sure which way I was leaning. But I know now, after watching Halladay celebrate with his Phillies teammates the way I always wanted him to celebrate in Toronto with the Blue Jays.

There's no doubt: Votto is special. But he's not Roy Halladay. He's not the pitcher whose starts I lived and died by, every five days, for more than a decade. I've waited far too long for Doc to pitch in the playoffs. To dominate on baseball's brightest stage. Your good friend and mine Sarah said it best: "Playoffs for Halladay are playoffs for me."

Get your ring, Doc. Go Phillies.

It's pointless that I have to tell you time and time again, but image courtesy of Reuters via daylife.

September 22, 2010

Following the script ...


It's all good. Ottawa usually wins -- in convincing fashion, no less -- the meaningless games between the Senators and Maple Leafs.

In the hopes of catching Jose Bautista's 50th bomb of the season, I chose the Toronto Blue Jays over the Leafs. A wise decision, if I do say so myself. I PVRed Leafs TV's Game In An Hour, though. I know, they've got Game In Six Minutes now, too, but that clearly isn't enough torture for me. I prefer a full 60. Anyway, I was fully aware Toronto had been spanked 5-0. Yet I still wasted an hour of my life watching the preseason highlights, if I can even bloody call them that. It's a disease, being a fan of this team. It truly is.

Two things are certain:

1. I never, ever again want to see Nick Foligno blow by Dion Phaneuf the way he did Tuesday night.

2. I'm going to have to buy one of those goddamned new Leafs jerseys. I hate you so much sometimes, MLSE.

And about the Maple Leafs being booed off the ice: those fans paid good money to be there, and had every right to do so. Oh, wait, that's right, they didn't spend a dime. Well done, Toronto. Well done.

August 04, 2010

They grow up so fast ...


When, many years from now, we look back upon the career of Ricky Romero, I have a feeling we'll turn the page to his performance Tuesday night in the Bronx. For it was masterful; poignant. A young pitcher, doubted by so many for so long, coming of age on baseball's brightest stage.

How's this: Romero two-hits the star-studded New York Yankees; Travis Snider (among others) deposits a changeup into Yankee Stadium's right-centre field bullpen; and Yunel Escobar ends the game with a defensive gem from the hole at short.

Yeah, I can get used to that, too.

The Toronto Blue Jays are 56-51, yet here I am, asking you to pinch me.

And don't look now, but Cito's boys are playing 1.000 baseball when Adam Lind gets the start at first base. Undefeated, yo.

July 07, 2010

One day it'll all make sense


Exactly one year ago today, on the morning of July 7th, 2009, Adam Lind was hitting .310/.384/.560/.944. He had 18 home runs to his name, along with 57 RsBI. Lind's wOBA in April, May, and June (with .330-.335 commonly used as the MLB average): .404, .333, and .457. There's more: his wRC+ -- wOBA's version of OPS+, with 100 being average -- in April, May, and June: 151, 103, 185.

Lind's comrade, Aaron Hill, woke up that same Tuesday a year ago with a batting line that read: .295/.334/.496/.830. He had even more home runs: 20. And even more RsBI: 59. Hill's wOBA through the first three baseball months of 2009: .419, .352, .337. His wRC+: 161, 116, 106.

Last year, the two of them were off to the proverbial races. Today: they're in reverse.

Adam Lind, 365 days later: .206/.266/.350/.615. A wOBA of .273, and a wRC+ of only 66. Ten home runs, and 37 RsBI. Eighty-three strikeouts compared to only 57 at this point in 2009. Left-handed pitching has absolutely toyed with Lind, like that dude in the Ally Canada commercials, who messes with those cute, innocent children. A .107 batting average against southpaws is laughable, but a wRC+ of -32 against them makes me want to do nothing but get drunk on cheap scotch.

It's not all bleak. There is hope in Lind's line-drive percentage:

April 2009: 23.2%
May 2009: 22.1%
June 2009: 24.4%

April 2010: 21.5%
May 2010: 14.9%
June 2010: 22.6%

Aside from May, Lind is mostly still hitting the ball hard. He just happens to be a Toronto Blue Jay. Which means he's unlucky. But it's reached the point where I've become concerned, so all I'll say is this: Cito better fix Lind before he leaves.

Aaron Hill. Jesus, where to begin? For consistency's sake, his deplorable line of .189/.276/.355/.631. His .284 wOBA is slightly better than Lind's, as is his 73 wRC+.

The bottom line: Toronto's two best hitters in 2009 have spent the first half of 2010 as impostors; as below-average Major League Baseball hitters.

To make matters worse, Lyle Overbay has decided to join Lind and Hill in the Suck Brigade. But before we get to Overbay's struggles, let's get one thing straight: if you hated on Overbay last season, you're probably going to hell. You had no reason to. He finished 2009 with a wRC+ of 123. Just because he's not a traditional first baseman doesn't mean he doesn't get the job done.

That job in 2010 is a whole other matter, though, because it's been a nightmare first half for Overbay. Once again, Lyle can't hit left-handed pitching; a .189 average, it's all but a lost cause. But he's improving. After posting a 62 wRC+ in April, he got it up to 97 in May, 111 in June, and now Overbay's off to a scorching July. Perhaps, with free agency pending, he's playing for a new contract. I would be.

It all just makes me sit back and wonder: what if Hill and Lind were having career years in 2010 instead of 2009, joining Jose Bautista, Alex Gonzalez, and John Buck who are doing the same. What if the two young stars were able to build on 2009, and play with with a rejuvenated, healthy, and Anaheim-bound Vernon Wells? What if Chicago passed on Alex Rios? What if Travis Snider was ready? What if Edwin Encarnacion wasn't a disgrace to third basemen the world over? (Especially Scott Rolen.) What if, what if, what if. How different might things be? Because the perfect season is what it's going to take for the Toronto Blue Jays to get back to the post-season; to the Playoffs!!!1

That's the beauty of baseball. In Toronto, at least. Where we wait for that season where it all comes together; for the seven months where baseball once again makes complete sense. The many peaks and valleys in each and every summer long season; they're why I love baseball. For me, watching Vernon Wells rise, then fall, then rise, fall again, and now be selected back to the All-Star game has been one incredible ride. I've fallen and risen with him, with every pop up to second base, and with every home run to left field.

The pitching so far this campaign has been more than adequate. Toronto's top four starters have 25 wins between them, and all find themselves in the top 25 in xFIP in the American League: Ricky Romero: 3.50 (6th); Brandon Morrow: 3.87 (11th); Shaun Marcum 4.01 (17th); and Brett Cecil: 4.15 (25th).

Could it be better, the pitching? Of course. It could always be better. Especially the fifth spot in the rotation, which I wouldn't mind seeing David Purcey audition for one more time. Why not? (And would someone please get Jesse Litsch on a treadmill?) But at the end of the day, the Blue Jays have now allowed three more runs -- 379 -- than they've scored -- 376. And that's on the bats.

So, we wait. For Lind and Hill to turn it around. For a peek at J.P. Arencibia, and perhaps Kyle Drabek, in a six-man September Toronto starting rotation. But most of all, we wait for the summer where it all comes together. And make no mistake: it will come. It has to. And that'll be a good summer. A very good summer. Probably the best summer of all.

Until then, though, all I want is my Silver Sluggers back.

April 11, 2010

Valuable Life Lessons


I'd tell you I'm not pitching a tremendous baseball boner excited over Toronto's 5-1 start to the season, and Vernon Wells' 1.450 OPS a week into the marathon that is the Major League Baseball season, because I learned a valuable lesson last season (27-14!!!1). But I'd be lying.

Before I go any further, let's take a minute and give thanks to the baseball Gods above for not making us Orioles fans. Always a pleasure, Baltimore.

Five wins in a row out of six to start the campaign. On the road. From a Doc-less rotation. Without, for the most part, the services of Aaron Hill. It's like a fairytale. Throw in four home runs from Alex Gonzalez, half his long ball total of 2009; flawless performances from Shawn Camp, Scott Downs, Dana Eveland, and Kevin Gregg; yeoman's work from Casey Janssen, Shaun Marcum, Ricky Romero and Brian Tallet; and, well, I'm feeling fantastic, without having had anything to drink.

It's early, sure. But it's never too early. Not for visions of grandeur. You know: a Cito sendoff worthy of "The Manager."

Why not us?

Difficult Choices

The sweep aside, it's been a rough weekend. I'm faced with a tough question, the answer to which escapes me. I need your help.

What Vernon Wells inspired sign should I take to Monday's home opener:

1. The tried, tested, and true "I Believe In Vernon Wells"?

2. With his scorching start, and his being a fantastic human being, I'm not sure how anyone could, but what do you think about "Don't Boo Vernon"?

3. Or the Volkswagen inspired "VW: Das Awesome"?

UPDATE: I'm going with "I Believe In Vernon Wells." Why? Because I'm lazy, and the sign's ready to go from last year. It only makes sense. And as much as I too love the "VW: Das Awesome" idea, it's far easier to scribble "Playoffs!!!1" on the back of what I've already got.

April 05, 2010

Opening Day


"There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem - once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit."
- Al Gallagher

As you can see, Vernon Wells is ready to start the season. His exasperated-after-another-strikeout pose is already in mid-season form.

I'm ready, too, for regular season baseball that doesn't involve the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox. Or Neil Diamond, for that matter.

When Cito leads the boys into battle one final time this afternoon, deep in the heart of Texas, a new era will have officially dawned on the Toronto Blue Jays.

A toast: to new beginnings.

Game one of 162. Enjoy. And remember: Playoffs!!1

April 04, 2010

The Cito Effect


While you're fawning over Adam Lind's new contract extension -- and you still ought to be celebrating the deal, considering it's worth, over seven years, $45 million less than Nick Markakis' -- please do me a favour: take a minute and recall that it was "The Manager" who made it his first order of business, after he was rehired in June 2008, to assure young Lind that he'd seen the last of the minor leagues; that he was from then on, and forevermore, a big leaguer.

Let's not forget that for all the dirt thrown on Cito Gaston's name, it's been under his tutelage that Lind has blossomed into one of the finest designated hitters, and a Silver Slugger, in the American League. Clarence Cito isn't all bad. Mostly bad. But not all bad.

A Flying Start

Who does this Alex Anthopoulos guy think he is?

First he makes, by all accounts, a great trade -- if there ever could be one -- for Roy Halladay. Next: spring training, and his lauded efforts in making the Toronto Blue Jays a more transparent organization. Then AA beats out, ho-hum, the New York Yankees for the services of Cuban prospect Adeiny Hechevarria. Finally, the extension for Lindiana's Finest.

Tell me: what's not to like? While the coming season will certainly have its trials and tribulations, Anthopoulos certainly seems like the right man to lead the Blue Jays out of the post-season wilderness.

The Money Quote

"We believe in the player, just as we believed in Aaron."
- Alex Anthopoulos

An ode to J.P. Ricciardi, it makes me that much fonder of the new general manager.

March 06, 2010

(No)Playoffs!!!1



Greetings from chaotic Jaipur, "The City of Victory." Lord only knows Toronto will never be bestowed such a prestigious title.

I'm killing time; waiting to board a 10:30 pm overnight train to Udaipur. I thought, with NHL action having returned, it would be as good a time as any to take a peak at the standings. I haven't had a look since I skipped town back on February 2nd, the night the Dion Phaneuf era began.

It wasn't a pretty sight. As I'm sure you know. With 19 games left on the schedule, and only 50 points to show for their first 63 games, the season is over; lost. Even if, somehow, Ron Wilson's Maple Leafs managed to run the table and finish 19-0, they'd fall short of the 90-point playoff mark. Eighty-eight points is as good as it can get. And we all know, with an AHL roster, the Leafs won't come anywhere near that mark.

To make matters worse, once again, our Toronto Maple Leafs are the NHL's worst team on home ice.

(No)Playoffs!!!1

It seems I picked a good time to take this trip. It has saved me from watching a lot of God-awful hockey. I'm clearly not missing much.

Although I certainly will miss Alexei Ponikarovsky. I'm not sure why Brian Burke refused to give a 29-year-old player who has improved every season, and will set a career-high in goals this season, a four-year contract, and frankly I'm tired of trying to figure out how the Toronto general manager's brain works. If, as the Leafs plummet to the bottom of the standings, which is destined to happen now that Boston owns Toronto's first-round pick, Burke continues to defend the Phil Kessel trade, and continues to say "I'd do it again," he is, without a doubt, full of shit.

I wish Burke would tell the truth. I wish he'd come out and say that he made a mistake; that he thought the Leafs would be a much, much better team this season. Hell, I've made that mistake every campaign since the lockout ended. It happens.

Pray. Clearly, it's all that's left to do. Luckily for me, there's a temple on just about every corner around these parts.

Enjoy the Battle of Ontario tonight. There are only a handful of Leafs victories left this season; here's hoping they come against the Ottawas and Montreals. I'm off to have a Kingfisher. After finally perusing the standings, I'm definitely going to need two. Cheers.

February 26, 2010

Message In A Bottle


I put a message in a bottle and sent it into the Lakshadweep Sea today.

While enjoying a large bottle of Kingfisher at Coconut Grove restaurant at Lighthouse Beach in Kovalam, Kerala, deep in southern India, I felt the sudden urge to leave my mark; to let someone know that I had indeed been here. That I'd seen a majestically beautiful part of India I'd only heard and read about, but never known, until now.

I longed for my message to be profound. I want the person who eventually finds it to be moved, and changed, after reading it; to never be the same from that day forward.

It came to me, almost immediately.

Written in all its glory on a tiny sheet of paper, signed "- eyebleaf," I penned one, single, solitary word: "Playoffs!!1"

February 13, 2010

The Sea is the Soundtrack



Palolem, south Goa. I've been sitting on the beach, jotting down some of my thoughts ...

1. The music out here in Goa is, for lack of a better description, TACK CITY. You can't go very far without hearing Enrique Eglasias, Savage Garden, Bryan Adams (he's Canadian, so he's cool), and, most unfortunately, Ricky Martin. Dido's "White Flag" came on a few days ago while I was having lunch and my thoughts of course drifted towards Mats Sundin. He went down with the ship. Like a right, honourable captain shoud. I miss him. It's not too late for him to come out of retirement and play with Phil Kessel. A fan can dream. Especially a Toronto sports fan.

2. When in Goa, try the Prawn/Chicken/Beef Xacuti (pronounced "cha-coothie"). It's divine.

3. I'm obviously late to the party but it certainly took me by surprise to learn that Ilya Kovalchuk is a New Jersey Devil. I can't say I saw them winning the sweepstakes. But the Devils are, as always, competitive, so I have to respect their taking the plunge. I'm curious as to when the Devils last traded a first-round draft choice. It doesn't seem like their modus operandi. They are the antithesis of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Especially when it comes to winning.

4. I'm reading Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now." The cynic in me is having a hard time believing it's anything but 270-odd pages of complete, utter bullshit. Actually, I was reading it. It was stolen yesterday from the deck of my beach hut down here in Palolem. TRUST NOBODY.

5. There are no traffic lights in Goa. Not in the cities, not in the tourist beaches areas, nowhere. I've yet to come across one. While speed bumps, and potholes that make Steeles Avenue seem like asphalt heaven, are numerous, the only time a car comes to complete stop is when cows set up shop on the roads.

6. While sitting on the beach drinking buckets of Kingfisher, my thoughts invariably drifted towards the boys of summer, our Toronto Blue Jays. It's been quite the few months for Alex Anthopoulos and, while expectations are low, nothing would please me more than seeing the 2010 squad win more than 75 games; more than they won in 2009 with Roy Halladay taking the mound every five days. It's nothing against Doc; how could it be? But I've turned the page. I'm genuinely excited about the future.

7. I have no idea who Kevin Gregg is.

8. As I'm sure you noticed, the new Sports And The City banner is up. Welcome to your Aaron Hill years. And thanks, Deaner.

9. While getting my head shaved a couple of days ago, the power went out. Which I of course knew it would. For a good half hour, to boot. Needless to say, I got to know my barber, Imran from Faridabad, really well. With half a buzzed head, I didn't really have a choice. I'm not religious and don't often pray, but sitting in that chair, I asked the heavens for electricity.

10. We take electricity and hot water for granted in the west. Perhaps that's why the terrorists hate us.

11. I'm hoping to return home a less bitter man. More contentment, less complaining. In all walks of life. With that in mind, my thoughts drifted towards Cito Gaston. The Manager. When the Blue Jays ruled the baseball world, I was too young to know that Gaston doesn't have a clue in the dugout. I've figured it out now. But I'm not going to spend 2010 complaining about his shortcomings. What's the point? Cito is what he is. No one, especially not me, can take his World Series rings away from him. I'm going to do my best to enjoy his swan song, and remember the good times. Such as the emergence of Adam Lind. If Cito can somehow do the same with Travis Snider, we're all good.

12. Once you ride public transportation in India, you won't give a damn about a TTC booth operator taking a power nap. Again, we're spoiled out west. Automated announcements, air conditioning, and, I don't know, a bus not in motion while you hang half way out the back door. The fare? Ten rupees. I guess you get what you pay for, eh?

13. The locals have a staring problem. Necks must hurt around here.

14. India is in severe need of a humane society. Stray dogs are everywhere, and bark the nights away.

15. Nazem Kadri's NHL debut; I'm sorry I missed that. How'd my boy do?

16. I wish I knew how to ride a scooter. It would have made the Goa experience that much better. I've never ridden one, and learning in India doesn't seem all that wise. Like skiing for the first time in Whistler, which I did back in 2001. I barely survived that experience. Lesson learned. Plus, the only helmets worn around these parts are the natural kind: turbans. On an aside, it's a miracle of God that hundreds aren't killed on the roads in front of my very eyes everyday.

17. Vesa Toskala doesn't think he's a back-up. He might be as delusional as I am.

18. I might have to visit Ponani, Goa, south of here. Just so I can call home and say "Everything is wonderful; I'm in Ponani."

19. Has Chris Bosh re-signed yet? Please call/text/email when he does. Playoffs!!1

20. For the next two weeks, "Playoffs!!1" is being replaced by "Gold!!1"

January 25, 2010

Toronto's Lost Decade




I'm well aware that Toronto has moved seamlessly into its next decade of sporting futility. But, one last time, we look back ...

We start with the Toronto Maple Leafs:




The playoffs have remained elusive for the Toronto Maple Leafs post lockout. Only the esteemed Florida Panthers, Phoenix Coyotes and Los Angeles Kings (thanks commenter Geoff) share the same sad story. Yet the Leafs were still Toronto's best team over the past 10 years. Hard to believe, I know, considering the club played the second half of the decade without NHL-calibre goaltending. It makes me appreciate how impressive the early teams of the decade under Pat Quinn were and, at the same time, long for the next Mats Sundin.

Next, the Toronto Blue Jays:




For those of you unfamiliar with Bill James' Pythagorean Theorem as it relates to baseball, here are you, from Baseball Prospectus:

The Pythagorean theorem, as James called it, was a formula designed to relate how many runs a team scored and allowed to its won-lost record. The most common way to express it is

Winning Pct = WPct = RS^2 / RS^2 + RA^2

where RS = runs scored, RA = runs allowed, and ^ means "raised to the power of", in this case, 2. It was the "raised to the power of 2" parts that reminded James of geometry's Pythagorean theorem (a^2 = b^2 + c^2), hence the bestowment of an unwieldy name.

Have a look at the Blue Jays spreadsheet once again. Eight of the 10 Blue Jays teams had a better Pythagorean record than actual record. I know, it doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, but, well ... fuck. When your team hasn't made the playoffs in 17 years, this is what you hang your hat on.

The 2005 Blue Jays were much better than an 80-win ball club. The 2008 Blue Jays, according to James' theory, should have won 93 games. Alas, even 93 wins wouldn't have been enough to qualify for the post-season. I'm not sure when, why, or how, but the Blue Jays have clearly angered the baseball Gods. And I'm not sure when they'll stop paying their price.

We have suffered enough. When I think of J.P. Ricciardi's tenure at the helm of the Blue Jays, I'll think of his Pythagorean record. It's easier that way. (Miss you, J.P.)

Finally, the Toronto Raptors:




It was all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows at the turn of the decade. An expansion team was growing up. Until Vince Carter turned out to be a rat. As you can see in the spreadsheet, it all fell apart rather gloriously once Carter's pouting began. The Rob Babcock years, culminated with the Carter trade, were the Raptors' darkest hours.

Carter's departure paved the road for Chris Bosh. I like to think that if Bosh does indeed stick around, and Andrea Bargnani continues to mature, the Raptors can put together a winning decade. Of course, Bosh's future remains the $130 million dollar question. If he leaves, this decade may be a long one.

Oh yeah, Toronto FC:




A full season of Dwayne De Rosario and Julian De Guzman should result in a playoff berth for TFC. But this is Toronto and, according to the spreadsheet, the club will likely miss the playoffs by two bloody points.

The Toronto Argos; how could I forget?

If you were expecting a spreadsheet, you have lost your damn mind. The Boatmen won a Grey Cup. I think it was 2004. I'm sure you remember exactly where you were when it happened.

That's it, that's all. Onward and, for the love of God, upward. Here's the to the next 10 years being a little more, shall we say, prosperous.

Image courtesy This Isn't Happiness

January 10, 2010

10 Years in Six and a Half Minutes

I came across this one late, courtesy of my man bkblades. It's rather stunning, and confirms the old adage: better late than never ...




Professional sports: the greatest escape.

January 01, 2010

2010



"New Year's eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no man has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights."
- Hamilton Wright Mabie

Here's to this one being better than the last. I think you know what I mean ...

December 16, 2009

Phoenix



"I take [criticism] and use it as fuel. I'll be back."

Who am I to doubt him? I believe in Vernon Wells. And I'll say this: if Vernon is booed on opening night, April 12, 2010, shame on you, Toronto.

Harry Leroy Halladay III is no longer a Toronto Blue Jay. Kyle Drabek, Brett Wallace, and Travis d'Arnaud are forever tied to his good name. Imagine: not only trading Halladay, but sending $6 million in cash to get it done. And that being a good sign. Heady times.

If you look to your right, you'll find a new poll. The banner up top, which Doc has been the focal point of since this blog began, now represents the past. Whether we honour Doc in our own little way, or move on and live in the present, bleak as it may be, is up to you. Just don't vote for Cito.

After the dust finally settled, I thought Jayson Stark put it best:

"[Toronto] had the best pitcher in baseball on their payroll for the past eight years -- and never played one postseason game. They were the wrong team in the wrong division in the wrong era. And none of that was Halladay's fault. But his time had come, and his time had gone. He wanted out. He wasn't going to stay. So the Blue Jays had no choice."

Life After Doc (AD). It has begun.

(Playoffs!!!1 In 2012.)