Playoff Musings

A look at some of the storylines of the postseason.

Frank TV is attacking my brain.  Thanks to TBS’s coverage of the playoffs, I can’t go five minutes without thinking “very funny.”  There’s good TV on: Heroes is back, Mad Men continues to dominate, the Simpsons have returned, yet I feel compelled to watch a chubby non-funny comedian do borderline impressions for thirty minutes.  I guess advertising still works.  At least TBS still remembers to show baseball between the Frank TV commercials.  I think we’re about a month away from TBS just giving up and running those commercials all day long.  Maybe they’ll throw in a showing of Must Love Dogs for good measure.  Before my eyes melt and my head explodes, let’s address some playoff musings.

I owe Brad Lidge an apology…  

In late July, I wrote the following about the Phillies’ closer: As the pressure mounts down the stretch,would you ever rely on Brad Lidge to get a big out?  I’m giddy with anticipation over the prospect of Lidge facing David Wright with a one run lead and a man on second.  Will he experience a Ricky Bobby-like flashback of Albert Pujols?  Don’t be surprised to see him sprint off the mound in his tightie-whiteys, shrieking that his clothes are on fire.  Brad, my bad.

Since I wrote that, Lidge has returned to his roots as a dominant shut down closer.  Going into the postseason, he possessed a 1.95 ERA, a 1.23 WHIP, saved 41 games, and blew none.  To paraphrase Joe Biden, let me repeat that—he has blown zero saves this season.  That’s unheard of.

For a closer, having an unshakable level of confidence is just as, if not more, important than the stuff he carries with him to the mound.  When Lidge gave up that homerun to Pujols in the 2005 NLCS, that confidence was shaken to its core.  Unlike the homerun Jim Leyritz hit off Mark Wohlers in the 1996 World Series, Pujols took Lidge’s best offering out of the park.  Closers live by the mantra, “don’t give the hitter a chance to beat you on your third pitch.”  Well, Pujols didn’t.

Immediately, Lidge fell into a Maverick-from-Top-Gun-like tailspin.  Every time Lidge entered the game, Astros fans had no idea what to expect.  Would he shut the opposition down and close out the game, or would he freak out, hit the eject button, and kill Anthony Edwards?  It got so bad, that the Astros replaced Lidge—a pitcher dialing it up to the mid-90s with his fastball and with an exploding slider—astheir closer and ultimately traded him away before the 2008 season.

In the 2008 playoffs, Lidge has remained perfect.  He has recorded big out after big out, and is one of the main reasons Philadelphia stands two wins away from the World Series.  While Billy Wagner, closer of the divisional rival Mets, came down with a season-ending injury, leaving their bullpen in shambles, Lidge remained an unwavering constant.  On Friday night, Lidge walked Manny Ramirez and James Loney, bringing the tying run to the plate with one out.  Here was the moment Phillie fans had dreaded, the inevitable unraveling of Brad Lidge.  Either Matt Kemp or Nomar Garciaparra would shatter the dreams of Philadelphia one more time with a game tying homerun.  Not this year.  Lidge struck both batters out.  With every futile flailing hack from the Dodgers, Lidge gained swagger.  By the time he had thrown that last strike by Garciaparra, Lidge was ten feet tall, weighed 400 pounds, and wore a cape.  Lidge didn’t just close the door, he slammed it.  As the game ended, I heard Ryan Howard say to Lidge, “You can be my wingman anytime!”

Tim McCarver has hit rock bottom and continues to dig…

Many young baseball fans don’t know this, but Tim McCarver used to be an excellent color commentator.  I came across a classic Yankee game, which McCarver happened to be working.  Consistently, he called pitches along with the catcher, illuminated the viewer as to the reasons for hitting and running in certain situations, and was not afraid to attack the umpiring crew for missed calls and the shrinking of the American League strike zone.  At that time, McCarver provided an insider’s view of the tactics, strategies, and emotions of Major League baseball.  However, as he has gotten older and more comfortable as a member of the press and not as a member of the players, McCarver has fallen into the same trap as many broadcasters.  He relies on shtick to fill air time, regaling the viewer with stories about how Terry Francona orders his steak.  Similarly, the game has changed since McCarver played.  His signature move was that he used to correctly call an upcoming hit and run or sacrifice bunt, teams have moved away from small ball as a consistent approach.  For the most part, until the latter parts of a ballgame, teams sit back and wait for their bats, not their manager, to create a rally.  As a result, McCarver’s game analysis often comes off as dated.

Nevertheless, I could live with that if he had an ounce of self awareness.  Since McCarver joined Joe Buck in the Fox booth, I consistently wonder how they fit the two of them, plus Buck’s air of elitism and McCarver’s ego into such a tiny space.  In Friday’s game between the Dodgers and the Phillies, McCarver narrated the following sequence.  Jimmy Rollins hit a single into centerfield, which Matt Kemp bobbled.  Rollins took second on the error.  McCarver announced, “Watch Jimmy Rollins, he gave himself a chance to take the extra base because he was going 100% out of the box the whole time.”  Meanwhile, Fox cut to a replay of Rollins running down the line.  He stroked the single, cruised down the line, took a lackadaisical turn around first, then when he saw Kemp struggle to field the ball, turned on the after-burners.  McCarver didn’t correct himself.  He didn’t point out that Rollins is one of a handful of players in baseball that could run the bases like that and still slide safely into second base.  Instead, he sat quietly, waiting for the next pitch.  To paraphrase Paul Simon, where have you gone Tim McCarver?

The Red Sox will win the World Series…  

Writing that intro felt like raking my body over burning coals.  However, Boston has a good defense; the best 1-2-3 combination of starters in Daisuke, Beckett, and Lester; a lineup that balances speed and power while relying on timely hitting; and the best closer in Jonathan Papelbon.  Watching game one between Boston and Tampa, the difference in experience was striking.  In the bottoms of the seventh and eighth innings, a time that has been Tampa’s bread and butter this season—they lead the AL in producing runs late in close games—the Rays put runners in scoring position with no outs.  Then the playoff jitters set in.  None of the Rays have played under this kind of intense pressure and it showed.  The Rays, a team that has played loose and fast the whole season, grew tense.  They paralyzed themselves trying to do something mammoth while a sacrifice fly would have done the job.   

In the seventh, when even a double play ball would have plated a run, Navarro popped into shallow left, Gross struck out swinging, and Bartlett grounded to short, quietly ending the threat.  The following inning, with runners at first and second, Carlos Pena swung at a 3-0 offering and flied to right.  Evan Longoria followed up by rapping into a 4-6-3 double play.

As we saw in the late 90s with the Yankees, experience is key to winning in the postseason.  It provides a team that, on paper, might not be the most talented with an advantage.  The Red Sox have played in big games such as these for four years now; nobody else has.  They will find a way to win.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go chug some paint thinner.