Dave Roberts’ decision to pull Ross Stripling during a debut no-hitter bid was the right one—though not the fun one

The message boards are pulsing this morning but with 157 games left to go this season, the Dodgers’ first-year manager did the right thing by ignoring the record books—and the fans.

By Andrew J. Pridgen

On a drizzle-flecked Friday night that conjured memories of the black-and-white San Francisco you grew up reading about just left of the Macy’s ad, Los Angeles Dodgers righty Ross Stripling made a stunning major league debut, pitching no-hit ball for 71/3.

Stripling got the first out in the eighth. But after walking Angel Pagan, his drone strike-accuracy was starting to fade—be it from fatigue or awareness. Stripling was then pulled just after throwing his 100th pitch.

Dodgers’ newly minted manager Dave Roberts, who owns Red Stitch winery with former Giants teammate/color commentator Rich Aurilia, called for reliever Chris Hatcher just in time for San Francisco rookie catcher Trevor Brown to hit a two-run shot to knot the game at two.

Brown would only be the first UCLA Bruin to go yard Friday night for the men in orange as shortstop Brandon Crawford would finish the job with an opposite-field walk-off homer in the 10th off reliever Joe Blanton.

Stripling, 26, is less than two years removed from Tommy John surgery. And Roberts made a sound metrics-based, if not totally emotion-free decision to pull him. Kind of the managerial equivalent of taking a second date to a Kings of Leon concert: Nobody’s having any fun, but nobody’s totally offended either.

Through seven, the rookie was masterful against erstwhile Giants ace Matt Cain, who is currently teeing off on the 17th of his career with the clubhouse in sight, and put the rest of the NL on notice.

If the Zach who? Dodgers’ rotation is really this viable one through five without Hyun-jin Ryu back from shoulder surgery—a fourth-consecutive playoff run seems inevitable. Roberts knew there’s sense in chasing something (debut no-hitter) that hasn’t been done since Benjamin Harrison was in office if it means texting James Andrews to clear his schedule in August.

Bumpus Jones, your record is in tact—and you are also trending.

And Dave Roberts became the first Dodger manager since Tommy Lasorda to be vehemently booed by Giants fans…in this instance for denying them a peek at history in exchange for uncertainty down the road.

A fair trade if you’re a Dodgers faithful and a feat that should keep both fanbases happily on edge in advance of today’s afternoon delight starring their generation’s best in Madison Bumgarner and Clayton Kershaw.

 

 

A Funeral for Sparty

Michigan State lost 90-81 to Middle Tennessee State in the first round of the NCAA tournament on Friday. On Monday, we here at DPB sat in on the funeral as Spartans past and present came to pay their respects.

Written by Kyle Magin

East Lansing, Mich.–It’s fitting that Steve Smith bore the casket in.

As Lupe Izzo–veiled in Nike-supplied black–audibly choked back tears, the smartly-dressed standard for Spartan shooting guards whisked the casket bearing the 2015-2016 MSU men’s basketball season in the door and to the altar. Smitty called it for the team, live on CBS, after the pulse finally faded on the would-be champions. DOA, he said, cut down by a 15-2 barrage to start the game and 60 percent three point shooting.

“Jesus,” my buddy gasped as he elbowed me, sticking a finger in Draymond Green’s direction. “Day Day isn’t holding up too well.”

Indeed, the MSU legend, who had tried on his old jersey last week just to see if it still fit (it’s now a tent for students sleeping out to protect the Sparty statue), was convulsing in a near-front pew. It wasn’t hard to feel a pang of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I in his weeping as he looked upon the photo of his successor as team jackknife, Denzel Valentine. Next to him, muttering into the ether in similar emotional angst, was TOC commenter. I swore, that in between the sounds of him ripping a printout of his tempo-free stats-based analysis comment before the game predicting an easy victory, I heard a speech smacking of something.

Indeed, anger mixed readily with the sadness in the room. Magic was counting on consecutive weekends in Chicago and Houston to check-in on his Fatburger franchises in those cities but instead has to spend the next 14 days guarding the hermetically-sealed chamber Clayton Kershaw has been shoved into before the Dodgers open up their season. Orlando Magic coach Scott Skiles sat next to him, working his barren forehead, fivehead and sixhead into a bright, angry red that’d make their old coach Jud Heathcote proud. He stared daggers through Bryn Forbes’ photo, determined to wring the deceased’s neck for not stabbing, punching, and bodyslamming his way through screens on defense.

A counterbalance sat behind them. Perched on a pew in perfect equanimity, Spartan football coach Mark Dantonio took in the scene like a monk. Afterward somebody told me that’s always how he looks after his seventh Lipitor, but I caught the vaguest signals that he was pleased Coach Izzo’s team knocked Harbaugh off the front pages for a day or two.

A few more notables snuck in right before the service began–Shawn Respert looking relieved that his 3-14 upset at the hands of Weber State has been demoted in the school’s history books, and Nate Silver, who was whispering to everyone that Norfolk State over Mizzou was really the worst upset ever. It soothed noone.

To the surprise of many, Coach Tom Izzo stepped up to deliver the eulogy as Father Todd had been summoned in an emergency role to Brooklyn on Sunday to pray for the damned. Between the hoarse choke-sobs and infrequent pauses to make sure next year’s class was still coming, nobody quite caught what coach said about the 2016’ers. No matter, though–as the dazed crowd ambled out, somebody shouted that the Peanut Barrel was pouring $3 Oberons and Gus Ganakas said he’d drive the bus if somebody listened his story about getting ripped on sake with MacArthur.

Everybody shrugged and piled in.

Who to Bet and Who to Forget — 2015 MLB playoff edition

Just prior to the season’s start Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen wrote a Bet It or Forget It column—a capsule of every MLB team’s odds to win the World Series. Like a drunken Tinder spree, we placed faith in some sleepers, missed on some keepers and mostly were skeptical of the obvious winners.

Here then, the follow up as we see pre-season odds (in paren) have changed dramatically. If you’re looking to keep your mind off the predictable Sleepaway Camp-style massacre that is the verbal stylings of Joe Buck, Tom Verducci, Erin Andrews and Ken Rosenthal—yes Harold Reynolds, that doesn’t leave you much to work with—gambling is the only way to go.

Refrain from wagering—ushering a month of no-stakes baseball—at your own risk.

Kansas City Royals 9/2 (30/1)

AJ: Forget it. I like what the Royals did in the offseason—shedding Shields and Country Breakfast and letting Aoki flit away to the Giants. And they’ve done nothing but improve during the regular season—notably reanimating Johnny Cueto. But, the team is DOA in the LCS. Ned Yost’s Royals certainly dominated a sort of stripped-down AL Central. The Tigers demo’d the kitchen and bathrooms in July and the Twins and Cleveland are simply both happy to not be 12 games below .500 at this point in the season. Baseball Prospectus gives the Royals a 92.7 percent chance to win the division and a 97.3 percent chance to make the playoffs, but doesn’t say much about how deep they’ll go. Yost (like Mattingly) is about as good between the lines as the Crayon streaks on a children’s menu and therefore I’ll pass on the odds-on favorites to hoist the Commissioner’s Trophy.

KM: Forget it. Ned Yost remains a conundrum for this team. He’s obviously one helluva player development man–probably one of the best in the business from the manager’s step in the dugout–as evidenced by the maturation of guys like Lorenzo Cain (an off-brand MVP candidate, he’ll get votes), Salvador Perez and Mike Moustakas. Yost appears to keep it loose and his guys respond. That’s great for the regular season, but the postseason is the province of tinkerers and chess-players in the cut of a Joe Girardi or Bruce Bochy. Men who can play the matchups and respond tactically to everything the other team has to offer. With the Royals’ pitching staff looking shaky headed into October, you need a gamesman, not a statesman.

New York Mets 5/1 (25/1)

AJ: Forget it. I was high on the Mets at 25/1 prior to the start of the season saying that Cuddyer, Murphy and Wright are the closest Queens has had to a murderers’ row since Mookie, Daryl, Ray and Gary. Um, I was a little wrong about how they’d get there but right about the fact that they would. Young arms define the Mets who, if not for the Pirates and Cubs, would be the most intriguing squad in the NL, maybe baseball. I’m still brushing up on Noah Syndergaard’s fastball as well as the stuff of Jacob deGrom and closer Jeurys Familia. The lack of scouting on these guys may have Mr. Met dancing all the way to the NLCS. However, it’s there a run-in with the aforementioned NL Central wild card or the Cards/Dodgers that ends this turnaround season.

KM: Forget it. Iron sharpens iron, and for most of the season the Mets have been slicing through the NL Least like a hot knife through butter. The team absolutely fell apart this weekend against Washington, their only real competition in the East, after the suddenly innings-limited Matt Harvey left an 8K shutout only to watch it get blown wide open. It would require a miracle to get past Zack Grienke and Clayton Kershaw with the Dodgers and then one of the battle-tested Central teams in the LCS round. The Amazins’ don’t have it in them this year.

Toronto Blue Jays 5/1 (30/1)

AJ: Bet it. Kyle, I didn’t take our neighbors to the north in the pre-season but I’m, again, shuffling over with the masses even at no-so-great 5/1 odds. They’ve got the pitching. They’ve got the hitting. They’ve got the infield. They’ve got the home-field advantage. And they’ve got the would-be MVP. This year, because the AL is offering mostly Jell-o and iceburg, I gotta go with the only team with flavor. I just can’t believe it’s from, *gulp* the home of Anne Murray.

KM: Bet it. Tales of Jays’ fans ability to travel and sell the living hell out of the Rogers Center (they were middle of the pack before the Troy Tulowitzki/David Price acquisitions) are starting to circulate far and wide. 47k screaming Canadians are not what you want to face come October, when the Maple Leafs have yet to really break their hearts and the whole damn country’s sporting world will revolve around Front Street and Blue Jay Way. When you’re not worried about the fan base, you’d better get worried about a recovering Tulo, a dominating Josh Donaldson and David Price putting 10Ks on you every game.

Los Angeles Dodgers 6/1 (13/2)

AJ: Forget it. $307 million payroll. The most famous Cuban ballplayer since Castro? The two best arms in baseball? How can they miss? 1) Chicago. 2) St. Louis. 3) Pittsburgh.

KM: Bet it. Clayton Kershaw and Zack Grienke are the stuff of nightmares. Brett Anderson and Alex Wood are pitching like guys who can end a series, though. Anderson is 2-0 with a 2.31 ERA in his last four starts and is looking every bit the Billy Beane performer the A’s originally signed him to be. Wood, if he can stay healthy, just went 8 innings with one hit allowed in his last start, where he threw a measly 78 pitches. This is a rotation even Mattingly (maybe, probably) can’t fuck up.

St. Louis Cardinals 7/1 (12/1)

AJ: Bet it. Folks are starting to sour on the Cardinals because of injuries and their propensity (see: Kyle’s comments below) to fade down the stretch. However, the Matheny Cardinals are a team built for playoff success and it always seems the years they’re most underestimated or most seen as spoilers (see: 2006 vs. Detroit and 2011 vs. Texas) are the years they shine. Carlos Martinez (13-7, 3.02 ERA, 1.29 WHIP) has flushed away the memory of injured Adam Wainwright like last night’s Panda Express. In injured Matt Holliday’s (.303/.417/.421) place, Bay Area product Stephen Piscotty has stepped up with the some of the truest hitting and most fun last name to say all year. Throw in a healthy Tommy Pham, Brandon Moss and Mark Reynolds, the latter pair filled in for Matt Adams while he was out, and you’ve got the deepest bench in both leagues. The red birds will play past Halloween.

KM: Bet it, but bet it light. The thing about St. Louis is that either of their potential LDS opponents (assuming it’s the Cubs or Pirates) have seen them a ton this season and are improving in their head-to-head matchups, with Chicago winning 4 of their last 6 heading into the playoffs and the Pirates at 2-1 in their last series with one more to come next week. Both Central squads have the book on the Cards, and with Yadier Molina hobbled with a hand injury, St. Louis has a less-loaded deck to deal from. That said, Mike Matheny is in every way Don Mattingly’s superior if the two match up in the NLCS.

Texas Rangers 8/1 (40/1)

AJ: Forget it. I didn’t like them at 40/1 and I surely won’t like them at 8/1. I will give it to Texas though, they’re the Annie Wilkes of baseball teams. They should’ve been done after 2011. They should’ve been done after 2010. Hell, they should’ve been done after George W. traded Sosa to the Cubs in 1991. But they manage to never go away. Prince Fielder and Shin-soo Choo have made respectable mid-/late-career runs this year and Adrian Beltre has made a mini-comeback of his own in the second half. Mike Napoli and Mitch Moreland on the back end of the order give the Rangers depth, but the team’s rotation isn’t playoff-ready. Cole Hamels can still throw like an ace, but after that there’s a bigger drop-off than when Van Halen hired Gary Cherone. Yovani Gallardo in game two and Derek Holland taking the mound game three and…need I continue?

KM: Forget it. The push required from the Rangers to catch and pass the Astros and then hold them off for two weeks is going to be exhausting. Don’t forget that the Angels are only 4 games behind in the division and just 2.5 behind the Astros for the last wild card spot and are headed to Arlington for a four game series to finish the regular season. This team has to keep its foot on the pedal for 14 straight days just to earn a shot at potentially playing Toronto, if not a one-game wildcard matchup for the right to face Kansas City. Tall order.

Pittsburgh Pirates 10/1 (25/1)

AJ: Bet it. First off, the positives if you’re a Bucs fan: Three (potential) playoff appearances in as many years is a huge, huge accomplishment and shows that it’s smart spending and smarter play that keep baseball’s small cap franchises relevant. A ridiculously good bullpen: During a one-month stretch just after the All Star Break, the Pirates’ pen was a cumulative sub-1.40 ERA thanks to Detroit cast-off Joakim Soria, southpaw Antonio Bastardo and flame thrower Arquimedes Caminero—not to mention Mark Melancon (98 percent save conversion rate), Tony Watson and Jared Hughes have all shown they learned a thing or two from last year’s playoff dream-killer and eventual WS champion Giants. Hell, I know things aren’t looking as good on the offensive front, especially with recent notable injuries (see: Kyle’s take below) but if Pittsburgh gets the opportunity to wave the yellow towels and fire up the Sister Sledge as the bullpen gets going, magic can happen.

KM: Forget it. The Pirates were finished when Jung-Ho Kang went down last week with a broken leg. The do-everything infielder from Korea has been one of the true treats to watch this season–the KBO’s first export to hold down an every-day job as a position player in the big leagues. As much as McCutcheon was the straw that stirred the drink, Jung-Ho made that infield defense sing from three different positions and was providing a lot of the pop the Bucs no longer get from Aramis Ramirez and Josh Harrison. The Pirates are all but assured of a playoff spot but don’t really have the luxury to rest because catching the Cards is still a possibility. I have a really bad feeling that their season will end one night into the playoffs.

Chicago Cubs 12/1 (16/1)

AJ: Bet it, but don’t let sentiment get the best of you. I like the Cubs (especially at 12/1) as much as any Old Style swiller to go deep in the playoffs. And, besides the Pirates, I think they’re the most likable team in baseball right now—so much that I’m going to start selling bootleg Cubs Care Bears on etsy to subsidize these picks. Also, I don’t buy into the hype that a young team can be intimidated. If there’s anything I learned from obsessing over the 2010 Giants, it’s that youth and ignorance actually can go a lot further when the bunting and Joe Buck descend upon your home field. And the Cubs have the world’s best infield, probably ever. BUT, it’s playoffs and playoffs mean pitching dammit. Pitching, pitching, pitching—especially relief (see: Pittsburgh). Joe Maddon’s Cubs don’t have the starting five to make this a strong, big-money play. Do Jon Lester, Jake Arrieta, Jason Hammel, Kyle Hendricks and a questionable Dan Haren scare anyone save for maybe the one guy who is still playing head-to-head fantasy baseball? No. Arrieta and Lester are the only innings eaters in the rotation so that leaves Neil Ramirez, Trevor Cahill and Fernando Rodney to hold it together from the pen. Fortunately for the ivy dwellers, that threesome, plus closer Hector Rondon, seem to be hitting their stride at the right time. Should the Cubs make it past the WC round, those arms will be up right away with the Cards. To me, if this last weekend’s series did portend anything, it’s the Cards know there’s a difference between September and October baseball.

KM: Bet it. I watched the Cubs all weekend, and my biggest takeaways were as follows: 1) Their bullpen can be electric. Fernando Rodney has been around the block in the postseason and Pedro Strop is nearly unhittable at his best. 2) Addison Russell is the baddest man on the planet wearing a glove right now. At a time of year when runs come at a premium, nothing gets past the Cubs shortstop. Two plays stick out–a Saturday dive to his backhand side and toss in a one-second motion to end the Cardinals’ comeback bid and a Sunday play where he rocketed himself over second base to handle a throw from catcher David Ross, then reached between his legs to tag out a runner. He’s so far into the zone defensively that it’s intimidating. 3) Starlin Castro is finding his groove. At the ripe old age of 25, the Cubs and Chicago fans appeared ready to close the book on the once-phenom. He lost his starting shortstop job to Russell, was benched for a week and moved over to second on his way towards the exit. Thing is, the switch worked and he’s collected 32 hits, 7 home runs and a litany of doubles and RBI since mid-August. He’s on the come, and adds to a Cubs arsenal that already includes Anthony Rizzo, Kris Bryant, Jorge Soler and Kyle Schwarber.

New York Yankees 15/1 (25/1)

AJ: Forget it. Especially now that it’s cool to root for the Mets. You know, it’s been so long since the Yankees have been post-season relevant, it’s almost worth considering at 15/1 for old times’ sake. But then there’s what’s actually happening on the field. Still-injured Masahiro Tanaka is supposed to take the ball game 1 in the playoffs and Joe Girardi’s woeful (but not hapless) Yanks wilt from there. Nathan Eovaldi is out and Adam Warren is on a non-Scott Boras-enforced pitch count. It’s only a matter of time before the Bronx flatlines and re-loads with free-agent starters for a run in 2016.

KM: Forget it. You just can’t paper over the team’s starting pitching once every opponent is playoff-quality. Plus, do you really want to bet on the Yankees when their probable wildcard matchup could be Dallas Keuchel, Cole Hamels or Jared Weaver?

Houston Astros 20/1 (60/1)

AJ: Bet it. This is a pride bet for me. The Astros are a year, maybe two away, but I want to see them go deep into the playoffs and with four AL teams (Texas, Houston, NYY and KC) all sort of just OK, I have to think if they slip in. The Stros are just young and plucky (<–that’s right!) enough to advance a round or two. Should they find themselves in The Show, who knows? This is a $5 to win $100 bet, max though as all recent signs point to the Astros’ dream season coming to an end with nary a wild card berth to show for all the orange H hats they moved over the last three months. The Astros starting hitters strike out a quarter of the time (not surprisingly, the same amount as the baby Cubs)…those Ks plus jitters are prohibitive from moving much past the LDS.

KM: Forget it. Look, this team just lost 4 straight to the Rangers and has spent the last month getting drubbed by pretty much every playoff-bound team they’ve faced. This week will tell us a lot with series against both Texas and Anaheim, but I think the Process is still a year away from providing results.

Los Angeles Angels 50/1 (10/1)

AJ: Forget it. Although I’m tempted to give the streaky Angels the nod for the fact that their odds have so desperately slid since pre-season, there’s no Rally Monkey in the hinterlands of Yorba Linda this year and definitely no bullpen to get them past the WC. Anyone know Scott Spiezio’s (and his playoffs-grown flavor saver) number?

KM: Forget it. Like the Rangers, the balls-out sprint required to make the playoffs by the Angels is going to be consuming and exhausting. I like Mike Scioscia a lot–I think he’ll get them into the postseason with Mike Trout, some spit n’ glue and a whole lot of black magic. Once they’re there, though, the wild card game could mash their bullpen and a potential showdown with Kansas City’s speed-based offense just doesn’t pencil out for them, pace-wise.

Minnesota Twins 50/1 (100/1)

AJ: Forget it. The Twins have to win at least 8 of their remaining 13 to have a chance for a wild card berth. The last time the Twinkies won 8 of their final 13, Kirby Puckett was climbing fences and Frank Viola was baffling Paul Molitor with filthy 82-mph breaking stuff. The Twins stayed relevant all year which is more than I can say for fellow L’Etoile du nord(er) Michelle Bachmann. If you do take ‘em at 50/1, hedge that a little with Cleveland at 100/1.

KM: Forget it. The Twinks have been assigned a closing schedule that will end someone: seven with the Indians, three with Kansas City to end the season and a three game shot of the Tigers in there for good measure. The Indians (more on them presently) play like Dale Earnhart and even with KC’s foot off the gas you’re likely not going to get more than one gimmee from the defending league champs. Check back in 2016.

Cleveland Indians 100/1 (25/1)

AJ: Bet it. The teams are taking it down to the dinner bell with a genre-defining showdown at Target Field in Minneapolis. The Twins thus far lead the season series by a pair of games despite being outscored. The Tribe has an eight percent chance of getting a wild card berth with the Twins’ odds slipping below six percent. Both teams trail the Astros in the wild card by at least four games, though Houston is showing signs of fading as well. All that said, I don’t need to go deep into Cleveland’s lineup other than the fact that I know Tom Berenger is showing Charlie Sheen it’s not just about throwing fast and living fast…it’s about embracing the moment. At 100/1, I’m embracing that moment.

KM: Editor’s Note: Kyle decided to abstain. Once the Major League references start, there’s really nothing more to say.

 

There’s no crying in A’s-ball

In Oakland, no change of ownership/no new stadium means no PSLs. No $18 sandwich at Crazy Crab’z. No weighty free-agent contracts. And a family of four can attend, eat (hot dog AND peanuts!) and drink for $60. Plus Barry Zito is on Alert-5 Aircraft in AAA Nashville. So who needs a goddamn trophy?

By Andrew Pridgen

When I was 12, the golden age of Bay Area baseball was represented on the wall above my bed by a pair of adjacent Nike posters. The poster on the left, Will Clark’s compact left-handed stroke frozen over a stanchion of the Golden Gate Bridge. On the right, Mark McGwire’s rhinoceros-horn-sized forearms stretching halfway over the span.

While I knew it was the much-less-scenic Bay Bridge that connected the two teams, the message was simple and direct: The strong- and sweet-swinging duo was the only thing bigger than the region’s most notable landmark.

The bridge as backdrop was also a statement about where the nascent Bay Area was on the rest of the nation’s sports and pop-culture radar. We weren’t New York or Chicago. We weren’t St. Louis or Minnesota. Hell, we weren’t even Los Angeles or Anaheim. To get the Giants and A’s on the map, Nike had to show the rest of the world just where the Giants and A’s were on the map.

The San Francisco of the early ‘90s was a decidedly left-leaning giant homeless shelter disguised as a banking, tourism and textile town. And Oakland, a crime-riddled port of the disappearing wage-earning class.

It was a time before the jargon of possibility took over and the drudgery of today’s hand-held solipsism defined San Francisco.

It was a time before hipster victory gardens and a shakily revitalized downtown “brought back” Oakland—if only for those who can afford to pay more for less food and drink $14 cocktails served unapologetically in Mason jars. The rest of the city simmers with real problems: crumbling infrastructure, capital crime and a school system adrift.

The A’s and Giants last meaningfully squared off in the 1989 World Series, bringing my poster to life. The planet, as it turns out, couldn’t take such gloriousness and at 5:04 p.m. October 17, 1989, just a half hour before the first pitch of game three, the earth opened up to swallow both franchises whole as the Loma Prieta quake struck.

The series closed out with a four-game sweep in the A’s favor. And the mitosis of the two teams, then equal in forgotten West Coast underdog stature, began.

The Giants would go on to never fully repair that version of the team or its home turf. Two years later, the franchise was packed up for Florida—till the mayor intervened and ginned up a reluctant if not innovative local ownership group.

Instead of moving one of baseball’s oldest franchises to the swamplands of St. Petersburg, the savvy businessmen wanted to build a ballpark for their new toy—Willie Mays’ godson and the most expensive free agent to date, Barry Bonds—to hit parabolic blasts into the chilled-to-black bay waters of China Basin. Where once there was an industrial landfill site rose a new, privately funded brick bandbox featuring lovable Rusty the Old Navy Robot.

The Giants rang in a new century with the new digs. Bonds got the single-season and all-time home run record and came within six outs of bringing San Francisco its first title in 2002. But it was homegrown pitchers and position players who eventually landed the franchise an unlikely trio of World Series rings during the last half-decade.

In 2015, the Giants joined the Yankees, Dodgers and Red Sox in baseball’s $2 billion valuation club. Success in excess has bred a new generation of douchebag around San Francisco and their epicenter on any given home stand seems to be AT&T. A willfully ignorant fanbase more likely to turn their backs to the field in-game, extend their arm and take a picture of the action they’re missing is the mark of today’s Giants fan.

In Oakland, things couldn’t have played out more differently. The current ownership group of Lew Wolff, a real estate mogul, and John Fisher, heir to the fading GAP empire, are baseball’s twin Ebenezers. Professional sports’ slumlords. Raking in profit-sharing dollars and giving fewer than two shits whether any of the remaining dozenish chest-painted Oakland faithful bang through the turnstiles like cattle to the slaughter. The A’s are ranked 27th out of 30 MLB teams in valuation ($725 million) and attendance (just over 1.1 million/season).

The team draws fewer than 20,000 per game among OAK International discount parking lots on the exhaust-lined concrete shores of the 880. Renovations in the quarter century since the team’s last title include building a new stadium on top of the existing old one called Mount Davis—a concrete-and-rebar homage to their current roommates’ deceased owner.

There’s no recent hardware to impede the tumbleweed roll of dust bunnies in Oakland’s trophy display. And there’s no such thing as a long-term contract for homegrown players as much as there is a promise of a future windfall elsewhere. Fans have come to think of A’s prospects as interns. They’re young, eager and fun to have around—but eventually learn they’re not making enough for Friday drinks and go get a real job, preferably somewhere where the offices aren’t in the direct flightpath of Southwest’s 12x/daily commuter to Ontario.

A’s GM Billy Beane, though being portrayed as boy-genius by Brad Pitt bought him a lot—maybe too much—leeway from A’s apologists, has spent the last decade or so outmaneuvering himself into this kind of fugue state of a chess master whose pieces are stolen. Beane these days is like the Subway owner who swapped for a Quiznos and then switched back. He routinely makes a mockery of the good work he once did by undoing it and then for good measure, undoing that. Sabermetrics is no longer black arts or exclusive to Oakland. The Athletics plus 29 other MLB teams use analytics and analytics alone to extract value from every draft pick, contract extension and free-agent acquisition.

As baseball’s second-longest tenured GM, (Beane started in 1997, the Giants’ Brian Sabean was hired in 1996) Beane not only hasn’t won a World Series, but has managed to advance past the AL Division Series only once (2006). Though A’s evangelists will note the franchise has made a respectable eight playoff appearances in Beane’s 18 seasons as a small-market/small-payroll team—the consistent effort to keep payroll in the eight-figure range has yielded mixed and sometimes stupefying results.

Take 2008, when Beane dealt closer Huston Street and Carlos Gonzalez to get Matt Holliday in an A’s jersey. The A’s finished 24.5 back and Holliday went on to star for the Cardinals the next season.

Or last off-season…After giving up a four-run lead in the 8th inning of the American League Wild Card Game to eventual pennant winners Kansas City, Beane failed to re-sign his trade deadline acquisitions Jason Hammel and Jon Lester. He moved Josh Donaldson, the game’s premiere third baseman, after months earlier giving up the league’s top shortstop prospect in Addison Russell to acquire four months of service from Jeff Samardzija. Beane also sent Samardzija back to Chicago (this time the South Side) for Berkeley product Marcus Semien, who plays the league’s worst middle-infield defense while batting .251.

The A’s sent a franchise-tying record (1975) seven All Stars to the midsummer night’s classic in 2014. Only one (Sean Doolittle) still wears an elephant on his sleeve.

Here’s how the rest are doing: Yoenis Céspedes (Tigers .287, 15 HR, 55 RBI), Josh Donaldson (Blue Jays 289, 23 HR, 66 RBI), Scott Kazmir (Astros 104 SO, 2.99 ERA), Brandon Moss (Indians 15 HR, 48 RBI), Derek Norris (Padres 11 HR, 45 RBI).

The latest trade, Kazmir to the Astros last Thursday, netted—as most of Beane’s trades do—a pair of AA prospects who may or may not make the club in future years and certainly will do nothing to bolster the team’s playoff chances (still only 11 games out at 44-55) this year.

On the plus side, the A’s are keeping it interesting with the start of a dominant rotation. Ace Sonny Gray is 10-4 with an ERA under 2.40 and though unnamed scouts and analysts like to think that he’ll be part of this season’s fire sale, A’s Assistant GM David Forst said this week Gray’s “not going anywhere” (which means the right-hander could be in pinstripes by week’s end). Kendall Graveman, another righty, is to date the only worthwhile acquisition in the offseason (he came over from Toronto in the Donaldson deal) seems to be getting his footing with a 3.40 ERA and 55 Ks.

The A’s also have a bit of recent history on their side that they’ll rise to respectability again in 2016. In 2011, they dumped a handful of AL representatives from the previous midsummer classic (Gio Gonzalez, Trevor Cahill and Andrew Bailey) and went on to win the AL West.

A’s fans can also exhale about the team relocating any time soon. Wolff, just prior to the start of the season when discussing the current long-term lease stalemate at O.co as it relates to a potential move: “We’d rather stay in the Bay Area than move to Timbuktu.”

That’s right, an on-paper billionaire who refers to San Antonio and Montreal—two cities that regularly make all those liveable/affordable slideshows—as the middle of BFE. It’s not that Fisher (San Francisco) or Wolff (Westwood) have any physical or sentimental ties to the East Bay. It’s just they don’t want shell out the cost of a U-Haul or any of those PODS storage things, even though those seem like a pretty good idea. I’ve never tried one, though I probably would. Next move maybe.

…Unfortunately, there are no suitors to take ownership in Oakland unless for whatever reason the MLB decides it’s OK for a team to be a co-op and hops and heirloom tomatoes can be grown in the outfield. Maybe goats instead of a grounds crew with plenty of chickens scratching at the infield. A circuit court judge won’t allow the A’s to move to San Jose, which is also good because the South Bay already got a publicly funded stadium-sized homage to bland and will be paying back the government-funded thieves at Goldman Sachs for the next four decades or approximately till the 49ers’ next Super Bowl appearance.

Until the MLB finds some McCourt-sized loophole to force them out (and it will) Wolff and Fisher will act like your college landlord and take the security deposit either way—whether they know about the goat and that party in May where the roof of his garden shed was collapsed by people dancing on it or not.

Every Major League Baseball team’s ownership group does what it do, win or lose, for the profit. And since fandom directly belies responsible decision making with the pocketbook, the ownership will always win.

Yet Wolff’s and Fisher’s refusal to improve rosters and infrastructure has introduced a strange concept to most in the Bay Area: affordability.

O.co is held together by Big League Chew and chicken wire. The entire 2015 team payroll is south of what the Dodgers shell out for the services of Clayton Kershaw and Zach Greinke (about $56 million). A’s fans don’t pay PSL fees for the rights to their seats. Because of this, actual families can attend actual baseball games. This season, a Friday Family Pack includes four tickets, four drinks, four hot dogs and four bags of peanuts…for $60. A single Club Level seat for the Friday, Aug. 14 Giants game vs. the Nationals is $65. A beer in Oakland is $2 cheaper than across the bay and pretty much anywhere else in baseball. It’s $20 less to park at the Coliseum than in China Basin and there’s no farmers’ market or dickhead playing cornhole in front of the new North Face Store looking for Instagram attention either. And BART stops at the Will Call window.

Any change in ownership would signal a potential move from the area and/or a new stadium build-renovation that would signal a Giants-inspired fleecing. No #socialmedianight and trio of trophies can hide that there’s only one baseball choice in the Bay Area that’s feasible for the ever-dwindling ranks of the working-class fan.

Maybe put that on a poster.

 

Pints and Picks The Podcast: Episode 2 – Now that’s pod racing!

Like what you heard?

P&P Podcast Episode 1

The market value of Madison Bumgarner

Madison Bumgarner’s statistics are overwhelming to the point of off-putting. It’s like hearing about $65 billion Madoff pilfered or the trillions spent on the endless wars in the Middle East. At some point, numbers so overshoot expectation or reality they become not just untenable but unrelatable.

By Andrew Pridgen

Bumgarner finished the 2014 World Series allowing just one run over 21 innings, good for a 0.43 ERA—the lowest in a single World Series since Los Angeles’ Sandy Koufax posted a 0.38 over 24 innings against the Twins in ‘65.

The rub of it was Bumgarner’s 2014 performance actually RAISED his overall—still-lowest—World Series ERA of all time to 0.25. He also took the hill enough to set the all-time record for innings in a single postseason (deadball era included) with 52.2 and His 1.03 overall post-season ERA is third-best of ever.

His other defining statistic, salary, is also alarming. Alarmingly low.

Bumgarner’s current five-year, $35 million contract was signed in April 2012. This year, he’ll receive $6.85 million, about $300k less than what Ryne Sandberg took home from the Cubbies…in 1992, or less than one fifth the $32,571,428 Dodgers’ ace Clayton Kershaw will wheel home in 2015.

Bumgarner gets $9.75 million to buy some new horses and tow hitches in 2016 and $11.5 million in 2017—the final year of his contract. 2018 is guaranteed if he throws more than 200 innings the year prior and 2019 is a club option.

This week, righty Max Scherzer inked a seven-year, $210 million deal with his new club, the Nationals. The Nats put their new arm on layaway and won’t finish writing Scherzer’s final check until 2021 or when Blade Runner comes true (whichever happens first).

Last season, Scherzer was 18-5 with a 3.15 ERA with Thomas Magnum’s Tigers but in his single World Series appearance (2012), he gave up three earned runs over 61⁄3 innings en route to a no-decision.

If the math were proportionate, Bumgarner, who is 25 to Scherzer’s 30, would currently have an actual market value of $39 million/year for the next eight years for a total of $312 million to be paid out through 2031.

There will always be the Scherzers of the world, beneficiaries of timing, aggressiveness, talent and luck; and the Bumgarners, undervalued genii who work in spite or maybe because of familiar-but-inferior contemporaries’ unheralded windfalls.

But the divide between talent and money isn’t limited to sport. In fact, sport is where the dichotomy is least pronounced.

Here then, a quick list of the current Scherzers of the world:

Tim Cook, CEO Apple: Last year, Tim Cook earned an estimated $39 million (his predecessor Steve Jobs made $1 in 2010 because stock options). Cook, who was given a one-time crack at $377 million worth of Apple shares, will vest over the next decade. He did that while making awkward PowerPoints (or whatever non-Microsoft version of PowerPoint he uses) and introducing an Inspector Gadget watch. His name also sounds a lot like the guy who brews Sam Adams which lends a little unintentional street cred.

David Simon, CEO Simon Property Group: Simon says: Who the fuck is this guy? Making a cool $140 million in 2014, Simon is the largest real estate investment trust in the US which means they own both Baltic Avenue and Marvin Gardens. Still, Simon’s got enough money to buy Lil’ Wayne and enough left over for some new teeth for Lil’ Wayne.

David M. Zaslav, CEO Discovery Communications: This dude made $54 million last year off the fucking puppy bowl, only Les Moonves of CBS makes more. Oh, discovery also owns OWN, Oprah’s repository for the dead sea scrolls of Tyler Perry’s leftover network show pitches.

JJ Abrams, Felicity creator: JJ Abrams is worth more than $100 million from writing the same show or movie over and over and over. He is most overpaid and predictable talent in Hollywood, Aaron Sorkin division. Abrams is one of the writers of Armageddon which instantly should at least make him a millionaire, but it goes downhill from there as he uses the same tropes Action Girl (think Alias and Fringe), Lens Flare which makes everyone look like Maddie Hayes  (think the new Star Treks and basically all of the new Star Wars trilogy if the teaser trailer on shrooms says anything). Though he did write Regarding Henry when he was only 25 in 1991 ushering the beginning of the end of Harrison Ford’s career.

Anna Wintour, tree-killer for fashion: Vogue’s editor and Conde Nast’s lead designer made an estimated $4 million in 2014, the same year the publishing company lost $500 million on fashion titles. Without her, they’d be less than a half-billion in the red. That’s a start.

Michael S. Jeffries, (fmr CEO) Abercrombie & Fitch: Homeboy finally retired in late 2014 after saying he wants to devote all his time to keeping Mickey Rourke’s plastic surgeon in business after pocketing $50 million (plus undisclosed sum for going away) for his final year of tanking the once-venerable exploit-a-teen clothing brand. He also once said, “A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong” which is fucking incredible. He’s retires as easily the most inflated-looking 70-year-old trolling Grindr.

Loyd Blankfein, CEO Goldman Sachs: Blankfein made about $17 million pre-bonus in 2014. In 2011, the investment firm’s net income fell almost 70 percent as they laid off about 1,000. He got a 15 percent raise. Because Wall Street was never prosecuted and Blankfein/Goldman never faced more than a wrist slap on fraud and racketeering charges filed in 2010 by Prudential selling $375 million of residential mortgage-backed securities to Prudential Financial. That they knew were bad. Oh-fucking-well, on to the next ripe plum, pensions.

Skrillex, DJ: Pulled in close to $18 million in 2014 playing more than 180 shows in 20 countries while never actually scratching a record.

And a few of the world’s MadBums—underpaid and underappreciated masters of their craft:

Megan Marshall, author: The 2014 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Biography (Margaret Fuller: A New American Life) is currently ranked about 600,000 on Amazon’s book list (anyone north of 500k takes home $20 to $300/month estimated in book sales). Sure, there was the Pulitzer money, appearances (the May 8 coffee cake confab at the Unitarian-Universalist Historical Society in Boston was a big earner) and maybe a NPR shout-out or two but Marshall probably brought just enough in to keep the kiddos in slightly used sweaters and the 1999 Outback gassed up last year.

Miranda July, occupation unknown: Miranda July is good at everything even though she doesn’t really do any one thing. Everyone except her calls her some kind of performance artist who happens to make movies that you have to talk about to make it seem like you like movies that you should like and does things like get Lena Dunham to admit she’s about to spend the same on a couch as most families would a SUV, recently wrote a book called The First Bad Man which everyone loves (see reasons above: books category) and yet nobody knows how she’s not working the counter at Little Caesars to pay for it all. I’m sure the Caméra d’Or from Cannes and the Special Jury prize at Sundance could fetch a couple hundo on eBay. And if she for some reason decided to launch a line of free-range yarn for coffee shop crocheters, she could probably begin to cash it in.

Nick Rhodes, keyboard savant, Duran Duran: Rhodes is said to be worth upwards of $60 Million, which isn’t bad unless you consider that breaks down to less than $2 million/year to lay claim to have been Princess Di’s favorite artist of all time and write the most riveting keyboard-only pop song of all time: Tiger Tiger. Rhodes also comes from money, which may better explain his worth. He founded the artpop band which basically ushered in a generation of video watchers and recreational cocaine users when he was just 16 and there’s no way to compensate someone for that heady contribution.

Scott Glenn, actor/sickly child/reporter/Marine/barback: Glenn is the bad boy who stole Debra Winger from Travolta in Urban Cowboy, got shot to the moon in the film adaptation of Wolfe’s The Right Stuff and most recently played police chief gone (maybe) crazy Kevin Garvey Sr. in Tom Perrotta’s HBO series adaptation of The Leftovers. Pittsburgh native Glenn, bed-ridden as a child, overcame a limp, joined the Marines, was a reporter for the Kenosha Evening news, graduated from the Actors Studio married a ceramicist, moved to Ketchum, Idaho and had two daughters with stripper names Dakota and Rio and on top of that has been in 70 other movies including Backdraft, The Hunt for Red October, The Silence of the Lambs yet is still estimated to be worth less than $3 million, his approximate investment in Surfer, Dude.

Sid and Marty Krofft: The puppeteers (still alive at 85 and 77 respectively) are the most innovate brothers to ever walk the Earth this side of Orville and Wilbur, Artie and Tom and Charlie and Emilio. In the day, they lived next door to Mama Cass Elliott before the ham sandwich rumors started and designed the puppets for Hanna-Barbera’s Banana Splits. They went on to cultivate a generation of stoners starting in 1969 with HR Pufnstuff. Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, Land of the Lost (Holly, Will, Sleestacks!) and the Bugaloos. The brothers S&M made Freddy the talking Flute a household, um, item and by all internet accounts don’t have much money left from the empire (spent all on puppets and maybe a dime bag or two along with a failed theme park). Like the saying goes, better to have puppeteered and lost than to have been an attorney.

Work that first challenges then eventually defines is not rewarded financially during the creator’s lifetime and yet, in the case of Bumgarner there is only one 25-year-old on the planet with three World Series rings, a new Chevy presented by Matt Foley on national TV and the natural athletic ability to drink seven Bud longnecks at a time.

There are some things, after all, money cannot buy.

Pints and Picks Week 4: No bye week for bad bets

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Sept 27, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: Kyle, why are there bye weeks in college football? I mean, I get why they’re there in the NFL—basically an opportunity to get arrested in the club and for the league to fuck with fantasy owners who deserve to be fucked with. But there’s no reason for this in college other than maybe to see what FCS campus gets the biggest spike in date rape and frat house electronics raids over the idle weekend.

I only ask this because bye weeks in college used to not exist and now that they do, it brings an even bigger air of “professionalism” (air quotes) and indentured servitude to the amateur gridiron ranks. If the NCAA said, “We schedule bye weeks around midterms because academics” I’d be good with that. Happy even. But the real reason is to stretch out the post-season and turn college football into a 20-week endeavor (i.e. almost two-thirds the academic year) for the almighty bottom line—of which the athletes themselves see not a penny (and that’s where the lap top thefts come in).

Since you’re pretty good about finding out the why of things the way I’m good at identifying the season of Magnum PI (and episodes) where he tries to track down the ghost of his allegedly deceased wife, let me know if you know.

Otherwise, I take it now that you’re off the schneid you’re not taking a bye this week.

Me, I’m still trying to feel this week out like a Junior High dance. There’s no match up that stands out as a stone cold lock; and it has to be watchable to be (not a word: betable). <-One of my cardinal rules—the other is to never trust a Yelp reviewer whose mouth is wide open on their profile photo.

For now, a couple quick comments:

• Why is Wyoming traipsing around the country in pursuit of getting bitch-slapped? Is it like an anything-is-better-than-staying-home-and-risk-getting-shot-in-the-face-by-Dick-Cheney thing? First Oregon and now Michigan State? It kind of reminds me of those Pat Hill-era Fresno State teams which burned through their Southwest miles to go get rolled up by the SEC and ACC and Big-10 before limping back to the parched Valley and dominating, um, Wyoming …and most of the rest of the Mountain West. To be fair, Wyoming does have a slightly guttier squad than they originally got credit for (think corn snow-fed defense) and should give Sparty fits for at least a quarter or two. If you can get a first-half prop bet for the Cowboys at +10 or above, that’s better odds than your drunk-as-fuck out-of-town guest trying to pull a credit card advance on the gaming floor.

• Missouri on the road at South Carolina getting only 6.5. The Gamecocks are hotter than a rescue pit mix locked in a ’93 Aerostar in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly since forgetting Manziel was in the NFL and dropping their opener against Texas A&M. The Cocks have won three straight and Missouri is reeling from what should’ve amounted to a midweek January stumble on the hardcourt to the Hoosiers at home last week. Can Mizzou regroup or will South Carolina’s Mike Davis and Brandon Wilds harass QB Maty Mauk who already has four ints to go with 14 teeders …and, you know what, this spread sucks. Fuck this game.

…I’m going to pause right there and say I was running some errands with a buddy during the lunch hour today (he’s planning a birthday party for a one-year-old which basically means crappy burgers, a weird sheet cake that is actually just flypaper with white frosting and a couple of fifths because apparently one is too young to remember seeing your folks and their friends black out) and we ended up at Costco. Still $1.50 for a polish and a soda.

The thing is, we were the only sub-octagenarains dining there. All these Burns-postured McMurphys who’d escaped from “Serene Gardens” next door were gumming on these intestines and entrails pressed into a tube while gangsta leaning off their Rascals made me wonder: Do the old folks know something I don’t? Like, If I have one meal left, it’s gotta be Costco (because it is glorious, especially when you remember to ask for the slaw) or does it just kill a lot of time to try to gum down a dog the size of your shriveled and veiny neck midday on a weekday when you’re at the station of life when time, quite literally, can’t go any slower—and yet, you don’t have much of it left.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I just have a lot more questions than answers this week.

Kyle? You there? You still reading?

Kyle: AJ, the middle school dance analogy couldn’t be more apt. I have an overwhelming urge to skip this week completely and tell all of our readers I was off doing some really cool stuff. In reality, I’ll probably be reading Madeleine L’Engle and trying to stay up for MadTV and hope my father (who, coincidentally, is visiting this weekend) doesn’t come out and turn it off when they swear for like the only time in the whole show.

MadTV featured the stylings of Michael McDonald (not this one, not that one, this one), a USC alum, and that’s my segue into talking about one of the only games that probably matter this weekend. With no ranked matchups, it’s going to be interesting to watch Oregon State-SC (-9) in the sense that it’ll be interesting to see your neighbor walk out the door with his 14-year-old dog tomorrow. Hey, still on the right side of the dirt, eh Fido?

The 2-1 Trojans are a technically, I suppose, still in the playoff race. Stanford exposed SC’s inability to get anything done in the red zone with a run game that’s hampered when it doesn’t have room to breath in a game the Trojans won 13-10. Boston College pantsed SC’s run defense in a 37-31 victory on Chestnut Hill. Both of these tell me the men of Troy aren’t yet sound in their line play. Mike Riley’s Beavers aren’t very good at running the ball on aggregate—they’re 91st in rushing in the nation—but in the first quarter, few offenses are as effective at running and passing the ball as 3-0 Oregon State, who put up more points early (10.5) than every other team in the Pac 12 North. If they can kick the Trojans’ line in the teeth early, I think OSU Quarterback Sean Mannion can play keep-up with a very potent SC passing attack.

Surveying the rest of the college football landscape leaves that bye week to be desired.

American Conference favorite Cincinnati visits Ohio State as a 15.5-point dog, and that’s halfway intriguing. Looking at the rest of this schedule is sort of like looking at the area surrounding Charleton Heston after that ship crashed in the first Planet of the Apes. Guess we’ll have to get walking.

AJ: Kyle, nice call on bringing the pops to town during the week of bettors doldrums. Now, instead of sitting indoors and inhaling the second-hand smoke of the sports book, the two of you can ramble around the Sierras inhaling the first-hand smoke of arsonists.

I think we agree this is a trap week as far as NCAA wagering goes. None of the spreads seem at all enticing and, as you pointed out, the dearth of compelling matchups (besides conference-centric spoiler games like Stanford at U-Dub) make this the week to take a BCS breather—and set the crosshairs on October baseball.

Namely Mr. Magin, the prospect of four very disparate and very under-(over?)achieving-for-different-reasons West Coast franchises making it to the playoffs.

It’s a Freaky Friday moment for baseball West of Lovelock. You’ve got the perennial lovable A’s who went out and made a splash at the trade deadline, only to wallow in the second half like so much locker room sludge through the AL West with dead arms and a listless clubhouse en route to a wildcard berth.

You have the predictably unpredictable Giants across the bridge who had a fiery start and a nine-game lead in May only to lose two-time world champion aces Matt Cain from the starting five (still unknown injury) and Tim Lincecum (still undiagnosed velocity problems) but somehow picked up where Oakland left off and went not with the big trades but with the white-flag youth movement: Hunter Strickland, Chris Hesten, Erik Cordier and even skipper’s son Brett Bochy have all contributed on the mound. Back-up backstop Andrew Susac has been clutch off the bench and in spelling Buster Posey and infielders Joe Panik and Matt Duffy have been key contributors plugging the middle whilst performing at the plate. The suddenly youth-infused G-men didn’t have enough in the tank to catch the boys in blue with the quarter-billion-dollar payroll and the world’s greatest stadium, but they do have a good chance of beating the Pirates in the wildcard sudden-death scenario and finding themselves the object of Joe Buck’s scorn again.

In Southern California, it’s a battle of swollen payrolls and depleting expectations. The Halos, who had all but given up on The Last Investment Albert Pujols till he decided to come out of the orange groves and hit a respectable .273 with 28 bombs and 104 RBIS (and he’s not done yet). Mike Trout is baseball’s lone superstar right now and the singing cowboy’s starting rotation featuring innings eaters Jared Weaver (18-8, 3.52 ERA), CJ Wilson (13-10, 4.61 ERA) and Matt Shoemaker (16/4, 3.04 ERA) suddenly looks like baseball’s best even without the services of Garrett Richards (13-4, 2.61 ERA). The hedge fund-backed Dodgers’ have the best pitcher in baseball in Clayton Kershaw. The once-in-a-generation starter-next-door has mastery of three pitches usually thrown in a way three different pitchers might; fastball, 90-plus, a makes-you-swing-from-the-heels slider in the high-80s and an elevator curve in the mid-70s. It’s like facing vintage Barry Zito, Pedro Martinez and Greg Maddox—in one at-bat. Kershaw recently notched his 20th win, has an ERA under 1.80 and tosses 100-pitch complete game shutouts like Drysdale the get away afternoon after a Saturday night bender. Kershaw alone almost makes one forget that any player who came up under Castro thinks hitting the cut-off man is a Fredo Corleone reference.

You got your Tigs Kyle, but the prospect of not only an all West Coast World series, but LCSs makes me giggle. I know Fox shares Erin Andrews’ resting bitchface scowl when it comes to the knowledge that KC, not NY will be in the playoffs and Mr. Jeter’s farewell bonanza is but a week away from coming to a cleaned-out-locker and teary press conference halt. All that historic footage from the pre-device ’90s shelved for roll out at Cooperstown in 2020. And what the fuck will Ken “He shoulda been-a dentist” Rosenthal talk about as Buck cuts Harold Reynolds off on the cutaways with no DJ?

With that, I’d like to be a sort of World Series wager Sommelier. First off, like a fine wine, many teams age into BETTER odds of winning Bud Selig’s final Commissioner’s Trophy as the season matures. But like your great aunt’s Bradford Exchange plate collection, not all teams go up in value. At the start of the season the last-place Red Sox were 12/1 (ditto Rays). The aforementioned Yankees, who are now 300/1 to take a Champagne bath, started out at 14/1. The Orioles who started the season at 35/1 are now 13/2—not bad for a runaway division champ. And your Motor City hardballers are a solid 6/1. For my money though, I’m liking either the A’s or the Giants at 12/1 to bring the hardware back to the Biggedy. After all, Giants fans, it is an even-numbered year.

Kyle, I know you’re headed out the door to see nature’s splendor with the man who pulled you out of oblivion and plopped you on this big blue-infused chunk of spinning granite, but I KNOW you’re laying down your World Series picks this week… so, (Pacino voice) what’dya got?!

Kyle: AJ, I’ve never been more happy to talk baseball during betting season, a sport I usually avoid at the book like the plague. It will also grease the wheels of conversation with the old man while we’re waiting for his knees to stabilize after I drag him up a few thousand feet above his normal playing altitude.

I, too, think the road to the World Series is definitely coming through California. Too many hardball-related planets are aligning with the Golden State. Dave Stewart is LaRussa’s new lapdog in Arizona. Scully is back again next year! I found out, just this week, that they still have an MLB team in San Diego.

As a Tigers fan, I hate to say it, but the Los Angeles Angels of Disneyland at 9/2 to win the series is the best bet at the book. Jeff Weaver is a horse, Matt Shoemaker has walked one guy for every 9 he’s struck out since the break and Wade Leblanc hasn’t given up a run in his last two starts headed into the postseason. Everybody has been getting on in front of Albert Pujols and he’s been driving all of them in—he’s got roughly an RBI per game over the last month, while Mike Trout continues to ape Barry Bonds with his slugging prowess. Gordon Beckham and Howie Kendrick have gotten on-base as often as anyone in the league over the last month. There’s just no way I see someone getting around this time save some massive power outage from Pujols and Trout.

In the NL—and I know this won’t be popular with much of our readership—I like the Dodgers. I don’t love them at 9/5, but in the “who’s going to win this thing” sense, I think we’re geared up for a freeway series. Which, wow, Randy Newman is going to RAKE royalties from FOX. It’ll make Erin’s Dancing with the Stars schedule manageable—I won’t have to put up with her whiny-ass Instagram posts from a private jet about #grinding from coast to coast.

We’ll get some hoity-toity reminders from the New Yorker about all the poor-ass people who got bulldozed out of Chavez Ravine 60-plus years ago to make way for one of the top-five stadiums in baseball. It’ll be gross and engrossing, all at once.

The Dodgers’ Matt Kemp, Justin Turner, Carl Crawford and Scott Van Slyke have been hitting the living shit out the ball over the last month—all four are in the top-15 of OPS over that stretch. Even with Puig’s second-half power outage, I don’t see how anyone else keeps up with the boys in blue. Selig passes out his last trophy south of the Grapevine.

AJ: Gotta agree it may be Los Doyers’ year and hey that Randy Newman song was supposed to be ironic; like how big a shithole-where-small-town-dreams-go-to-die-with-a-gooey-tarpit-center LA is. It makes me laugh every time the Dodgers notch a W and it bounces off the Hollywood sign and into the night. I love it! I love it! I love it!

Oh, yeah, the Huskies are better than David Shaw’s listless and unproven farm squad. Take the dawgs and the 6 points against the Cardinal (at home!) for a share of the Pac-12 North lead.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 3-3
Kyle: 1-2

Overall:
AJ: 8-12
Kyle: 1-7

This week:
AJ:

• Washington +6 vs. Stanford
• SF Giants (or Oakland A’s) at 12/1 to win the World Series

Kyle:
• Oregon State +12.5 @ USC
• LA Dodgers (9/5) or LA Angels (9/2) to win the World Series

Sing it

We’re past baseball’s All Star Game and headed into the stretch run for the 15ish teams with a shot at the playoffs. The perfect time for a musical interlude. Here then, a theme song for every contender within spitting distance of their division or a wild card berth as they push toward October:

AL East

Baltimore OriolesPuddle of Mudd “She Hates Me”
With 68 games remaining, the Orioles’ first 23 are against plus-.500 clubs, including a post-All Star-break run against the AL West’s top tier. They’re four games up in a shitty division, so it’s not all bad, but the MLB’s schedule-maker truly hates the Os.

Toronto Blue JaysMadeline Khan “I’m Tired”
The Jays set the AL East on fire through June, leading the division for 48 straight games at one point. But after bumbling to an 8-17 finish before the break, can’t you see this team is tired? Injuries, catcher Josh Thole’s rag doll, please-steal-second arm and a suddenly quiet offense mean Toronto is basically kaput.

New York YankeesJay Z “Fade to Black”
Like Jay’s overwrought retirement tour with the Black Album, Yankee Shortstop Derek Jeter’s bloated farewell will be sweetest when it finally ends, probably in September. No more tips of the cap to someone “classy” enough to stay with the one organization willing to overpay for his talents for two decades. No more giddily scribbled Valentine soft-focus tributes from men 20 years his senior on Fox broadcasts. The Yanks are five games behind Baltimore in the division and 3.5 behind in the wild card yet they’re sucking air with ace pitcher Masahiro Tanka sidelined for at least a month with arm trouble. Unless every opposing pitcher in the league decides to groove throw Jeter belt-high fastballs the rest of the season, we can finally kiss the last vestige of the 90s Yankees goodbye.

AL Central

Detroit TigersGeorge Thorogood and the Destroyers “I Drink Alone”
Yeah, with nobody else. In the Central, the Tigers essentially drink alone. Their successes and failures are entirely dependent on a world-class offense, potential-packed, results-stunted staff and manic bullpen. They’re 22-16 versus the rest of their middling-to-terrible division and during a month stretch in May and June excelled tremendously at beating themselves without assistance from opposing clubs. This is their division to lose.

Kansas City RoyalsSmokey Robinson “Tracks of My Tears”
Nobody made heartbreak nearly as fun (and danceable!) as Smokey did in this classic track. The Royals are trying to duplicate the effort. They had the Tigers by the tail, literally, going 2 games up at one point in the first half before looking down for what seemed like 10 seconds and then looking up to see themselves in a 6.5 game hole. Their pitching is fantastically broken and third baseman Mike Moustakas, while certainly Greek, is far from a god, hitting .219 with runners on.

Cleveland IndiansWeird Al Yankovic “Close but no Cigar”
Like Weird Al’s love interest, the Indians have a lot of good things going for them. All-Star outfielder Michael Brantley has a .901 OBP and has already knocked in 63 runs. Lonnie Chisenhall is finally getting a chance to play a rock-solid third base full-time and is a monster at the plate. From afar, the Tribe looks like a hottie. But the staff is riddled with some penicillin-resistant disease, and aside from Chisenhall the infield handles grounders with all the care of frozen McRibs in the back of your local gut bomb factory.

AL West

Oakland AthleticsACDC “For Those about to Rock (We Salute You)”
Stand up and be counted for what you are about to receive/we are the dealers/we’ll give you everything you need.
Noted asshole and Oakland owner Lew Wolff and destitute man’s Brad Pitt Billy Beane have given A’s fans what they need to succeed in the AL and possibly all of baseball this year. For with the addition of Jeff Samardzija and Jason Hammel from the Cubs, the A’s are ready to rock into the postseason. They’ve now the pitching to complement bats like Josh Donaldson (20 HR and 65 RBI) and Brandon Moss (21 HR, 66 RBI) on a staff that was already 23 games above .500. The ALCS will go through Oakland.

Anaheim AngelsAretha Franklin “R-E-S-P-E-C-T”
What’s a team gotta do to turn some heads in the AL West? The Angels are 1.5 games behind the A’s—the best team in baseball—and are in the process of reanimating the corpse of Josh Hamilton, who helped key a five-game winning streak heading into the break. Mike Trout continues to play like baseball Jesus with his 22 HR and 73 RBI and Albert Pujols is slugging a full hundred points higher than the league average while smacking 20 HR to this point. Garrett Richards and CJ Wilson are strikeout machines—the A’s take their foot off the gas at their own peril.

NL West

Los Angeles DodgersOzzy Osbourne “Crazy Train”
The Dodgers are probably (definitely) going off the rails at some point in the second half, they’ll just do it in a spectacular manner. Clayton Kershaw and Zach Grienke will do their best to keep the engine chugging what with their 12 and 10 Ks per game, respectively, while Yasiel Puig and Dee Gordon continue to play some of the best defense in baseball. But here’s Josh Beckett blowing out just before the break, and there’s Puig’s power numbers barely matching Gordon’s over the last two months, and here’s Adrian Gonzalez, Matt Kemp and Carl Crawford notching just 30 HR between them, and Donny Baseball’s negative reinforcement can only work so many times. The explosion will be epic.

San Francisco GiantsCharlie Murphy (as Stinky) “F*ck It”
What else do you say when you cough up a 9.5 game lead in the course of a month? The Giants hang their offense on catcher Buster Posey, who has hung Kurt Suzuki-lite numbers this summer—his .378 slugging percentage trails the league. There’s a core concept misunderstanding when your middle-of-the-order slugger is hitting like a 7-holer, leading a team-wide power outage from Memorial Day onward. Madison Bumgarner strikes out nearly everyone but seems to walks the rest and Matt Cain’s every venture beyond the 5th inning is tantamount to swimming off the Farallons with an open wound.  Tim Lincecum is coming back nicely with four strong starts before the break, though, and Hunter Pence continues to play like his hair is on fire. A devil-may-care attitude could catch the Dodgers.

NL Central

Milwaukee Brewers, St. Louis Cardinals, Cincinatti Reds, Pittsburgh PiratesAl Green “Let’s Stay Together”
The entire Central, save the Cubs (I wasted time typing that second clause and typing this explanation) is locked in a race for the division championship. Pittsburgh is the furthest back at 3.5 games, and since June they’ve been baseball’s hottest team right alongside the Reds. The Brewers imploded, losing 10 of 11, just before the break while the Cards surged. If for no other reason than arguments over who brews the best shitty domestic beer and whose stadium looks best astride a strip-mine befouled river, these four need to stay close together ‘til the bitter end.

NL East

Washington NationalsEminem “Talkin’ 2 Myself”
But instead of feeling sorry for yourself do something ‘bout it/ admit you got a problem/ your brain is clouded/ you pouted long enough/ it isn’t them it’s you you fucking baby/ quit worrying about what they do and do Shady Nats’ outfielder needs to take Eminem’s post-addiction words to heart while trying to get back into the groove after a pretty rotten (by his lofty standards) first half. Harper logged just 137 plate appearances and missed much of the season’s first stanza due to injury. Since he’s been back, he can’t seem to find his stride at the plate, and being the Nats’ sole source of power from the left side of the plate (other lefty regulars combined for 13 HRs in the first half), that’s a big problem. He strikes out roughly a third of the time for an injury-ravaged team that has managed a first-place tie with the Braves through this point of the season. Cut those numbers down and turn on the power and “the new me’s back to the old me” and you’ll see Washington in October.

Atlanta BravesWarren G. Feat Nate Dogg “Regulate”
The Braves’ anemic offense desperately needs some handy bat to step in and regulate. BJ Upton, Jason Heyward, Freddie Freeman, Anyone, Bueller, Bueller…? A stellar bullpen and a workhorse group of starters are begging for somebody besides catcher Evan Gattis and outfielder Justin Upton—who have a quarter of the team’s HRs and RBIs combined—to literally step up to the plate.

11 easy steps to buying and selling a Major League team

The Frank McCourt Story…Or as we like to call it: Eleven easy steps to buying a major league baseball team, using it as your own personal piggy bank, drawing the ire of an entire adopted city, abandoning your marriage, making a billion dollars free-and-clear and retiring as a parking lot owner, just as you started.

By Andrew Pridgen

1) Team up with your wife and her family’s money and run a commercial real estate firm out of Boston. Purchase a 24-acre parcel of a derelict rail yard in South Boston and turn it into 2,000 parking lot spaces. Tout its eventual development as one that would open a re-energized corner of the city and bring millions of taxable revenue to a dead-end part of town. Make sure you tie it up in court so long that it never happens.

2) Attempt to buy a major league baseball team in your region (Red Sox) dangling your parking lot as a potential plot for a new ballpark to replace the greatest ballpark ever built. Fail miserably and be chastised by local sports columnists as a “parking lot attendant attempting to become an owner.”

3) Do what every other self-respecting failed East Coaster in search of a fresh start has done from Joseph Smith to Don Draper and move West. Preferably LA, where institutional memory dates back to just after your morning espresso.

4) Buy a team whose beloved family ownership (O’Malleys) had sold out to an evil Rupert Murdoch-run megalomedia conglomerate (Fox Entertainment Group supsidiary of News Corp). Since the media company only wanted to block Disney from taking over the entire town (they already had the Angels and the Mighty Ducks – and there was no football team for the Mouse to assume control) watch them make mistakes like getting rid of a beloved homegrown backstop in Mike Piazza and rewarding the game’s first eight-figure contract to a middling starter (Kevin Brown). After six years of playoff misses and an inflated pricetag of $430 million and no buyers (not even Disney) get ready to pounce.

5) Offer Fox $421 million. Take more than $70 million in loans back from the current owner, get a $125 million loan with your $8 million parking lot as collateral. Get a $50 million credit in the purchase price, borrow about $125 million and let the remaining $100 million just sort of go unaccounted for because, you know, what’s one pitcher’s salary between friends.

6)
Because you a) have no money b) have no interest, or capital, to build a contender c) have no skin in the actual ownership of the team, use the franchise as your personal ATM and foray into the greater Los Angeles social circuit: Buy a bunch of new homes, put them in your wife’s name for an equal share between spouses in case of any kind of divorce down the road. Include in your purchases an 11,000-square-foot home across from the Playboy Mansion ($21 million), the next door property to tear down for $6.5 million, land in Cabo for $5 million, a $7.7 million lot in the going-bankrupt Yellowstone Club in Montana. Pick up a Lautner-designed home in Malibu from your ‘Friend’ Courtney Cox for $27 million as well as the adjacent bungalow for $20 million.

7) Decide you’d like to get that divorce and make it one of the most expensive in history ($30-plus million in attorney fees). Finally settle so that your wife gets $130 million to walk away and you take sole ownership of the ball club.

7 a) Throw in a nonprofit-to-hook-up-one-of-your-cronies scandal for good measure: In ’10 Jerry Brown, then playing the role of California’s Attorney General, uncovered the Dodgers’ Dream foundation chief executive Howard Sunkin was making $400k/year to make his own dreams come true. The courts eventually ordered all this be repaid. (McCourt himself even wrote a check back for $100k, or as he likes to call it, “lunch.”)

8) After six turbulent seasons of ownership, make sure major league baseball’s commissioner takes your team over because you’ve now spent so much on homes and hair appointments you’re taking loans from the team’s previous owner to cover payroll. File for Chapter 11 bankruptcy two months later (June, 2011) to cover your own assets and put the team up for sale after lots of legal back-and-forth with MLB.

9) A year after being taken over by the MLB, sell the team to the Guggenheim Partners, a New York- and Chicago-based privately held financial services firm with more than $190 billion in assets. Make sure they let Magic Johnson front the group so the $2 billion pricetag looks like it’s footed from local sources. Smile as you may have lost your wife, but you more than quadrupled the original “investment” of almost a half-billion dollars of money that wasn’t yours. In a separate deal, sell the land surrounding the stadium, which was included in your original purchase, for $150 million while maintaining some economic stake in the property. Also, create a third entity that you own to run the parking lots at the stadium, because that’s the business you know after all, and rent them back to the new ownership group for $14 million.

10) As your former team’s payroll skyrockets to a quarter-billion dollars and they reach the playoffs for the first time in a half-decade, become a philanthropist: Start by donating to a cause that probably doesn’t need your help in the first place; how ’bout $100 million to Georgetown University for a namesake school of public policy (no that’s public, not parking policy). During your time as owner of the major league team, buy the Los Angeles Marathon and hold on to that for additional re-occurring revenue in the name of a healthy activity.

11) Look on as your ex-wife buys and escapes to $11 million Napa estate knowing you made away with more than $1 billion free and clear and still get to sit next to Magic and your bored-looking-but-hot new girlfriend at games. …Your very own Hollywood ending.

Image source: LATimes blogs