The Last Gasps of International Glory

Sunday night saw the United States square off against Japan in the semifinals of the World Baseball Classic.  Between the dramatic opening round victory over Canada and the three-run bottom-of-the-ninth heroics against Puerto Rico, this United States team has officially piqued my interest.  As a result, I decided to keep a running log of the evening’s events.

8:00 pm:  After a year of writing for Seamheads, I’ve finally established my own category: Let’s Hear Some Chatter is officially online.  So, we’re coming to you live from the Chatter Cave—yeah, I don’t know if it works either—and we’re joined by ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball A-Team, Jon Miller and Joe Morgan.  While it’s not baseball season until you hear Miller and Morgan, I have to admit I’m a little bummed that I’m not going to have the opportunity to enjoy the color commentary stylings of Rick Sutcliffe.

Over the past few weeks of tournament play, Sutcliffe grew on me.  He analyzed the game like a pitcher, not an analyst, and really did a solid job.  He consistently guessed along with the pitch sequences and wasn’t afraid to predict a manager’s next move.  Though he did fall into moments of shtick, I would definitely give Sutcliffe a solid B for his work on the Classic.

Steve Phillips joins Miller and Morgan as the third man in the booth.  A special thanks to ESPN for ensuring that Phillips would be the awkward third wheel in the well-oiled self-aggrandizing machine that has become the Miller and Morgan combo.  Does anyone else still wonder why we should accept that Phillips is an expert on baseball?  Remember, he was the guy that signed Mo Vaughn’s bloated corpse and traded Scott Kazmir for Victor “I hope I get paid before they realize I’m not Carlos” Zambrano right before he got ran out of Queens

8:01 pm: We’re looking at a pitching match-up between Daisuke Matsuzaka and Roy Oswalt, if this game wasn’t happening in March, I‘d be jazzed up for a traditional pitcher’s duel.  However, the Little League-esque pitch count rules have been loosened in this round, so pitchers can go somewhat deeper into games.  I kind of liked the pitch limits and mandatory days of rest.  It reminded me of simpler times when it didn’t matter if you won or lost, just that you got your hot dog and soda at the end of the game.

By the way, I’ve made the executive decision not to reproduce the lineups of the teams.  I just feel it leaves me too vulnerable to debilitating typos.

8:07 pm:  Brian Roberts leads off the top of the first for the U.S.  Daisuke winds, slowly rocks his pelvis, and deals ball one.  I’m about to launch into a tirade about Daisuke’s ridiculous mid-windup shimmy when Roberts launches the next pitch out of the park.  One to nothing, U.S.  Good start for the red, white, and blue.

8:10 pm:  After Jeter bounces weakly to shortstop, Jimmy Rollins pops a weak fly ball to centerfield that falls between the Japanese centerfielder Fukodome and shortstop Nakajima.  I see Joe Morgan is approaching the Japanese team similarly to my “avoid the typos” method.  He refers to Kosuke Fukodome of the Chicago Cubs as “the centerfielder.”

8:16 pm:  Joe Morgan compares Adam Dunn’s patience at the plate to that of Ted Williams.  Dunn promptly strikes out looking.  Teddy Ballgame’s strike zone display at Cooperstown just spontaneously combusted.

8:18 pm:  Impressive performance by Jon Miller.  He just introduced the entire Japanese lineup and only false started once.

8:23 pm:  Quick inning for Oswalt and we’re on to the commercials.  I’m setting the over/ under for “the number of times the commercial for the new Seth Rogen movie plays” at 4.5.  Side note: Has Seth Rogen reached the point that every genuinely funny person meets in his comedic career?  The moment where he’s still relatively new to all the success and demand, and for fear of losing the spotlight still accepts anything thrown his way?  As a result his brand of humor becomes overexposed and stale?  It happened to Will Ferrell twice: once during his tenure on SNL and now with his more recent big screen endeavors.  Tell me his George Bush one-man show doesn’t reek of desperation.

Similarly, I’m setting the over/ under for “the number of times that Dustin Pedroia uses an MLB ’09 commercial to prove himself to be an arrogant tool” at 6.5.  Just because the tournament transcends borders doesn’t mean I have to root for Pedroia.  Ever.

8:29 pm:  Ryan Braun leads off for Team U.S.A.  I’m so happy to have him as my second round pick for my fantasy team.  Don’t sleep on the Art of Dai Chi this year.

8:30 pm:  Is it considered racist if I think that the Japanese first baseman, Michihiro Ogasawara looks like Lou Diamond Phillips?  If it is, then whose nationality am I offending?

8:34 pm:  I missed the end of the inning because all the appearance settings for the MS Word Notebook Display distracted me.  Right now, I’m using the “Snow Gloss without Rings.”  You should try it some time.  It’s a rush.

8:39 pm:  Miller and Morgan throw it down to Pedro Gomez with Jake Peavy.  Gomez concludes the interview—THAT OPENS THE BOTTOM OF THE SECOND INNING—by alluding to the fact that the U.S. currently leads and could win the game.  New rule: all broadcasters must complete a graduate course on religions, superstitions, and jinxes before they are hired.  I’m calling it right now: if the U.S. loses, blame Pedro Gomez.

8:42 pm: Catcher Kenji Johjima ties the game with a sacrifice fly.  I pull up Pedro Gomez’s Wikipedia page and stare at his picture icily.

8:44 pm:  Miller kicks it to the commercial break by referring to Brian Roberts as “Dave.”  It reminds me of when Johnny Walker—I mean Ralph Kiner—used to announce the Mets games.

8:46 pm:  Just flipped to Fox hoping for The Simpsons or Family Guy.  I got King of the Hill instead.  I haven’t been this disappointed since I discovered that the Next Karate Kid was Hilary Swank.

8:48 pm:  Joe Morgan tells us that Jeter is 0/9 with runners in scoring position.  Leading to this IM conversation with my dad.

Me: So, Jeter’s like 0 for the tournament with RISP, concerned?
Dad: Why should we be concerned about an aging shortstop with no range, who’s becoming more injury-prone, and has failing power?Me:  At least Cody Ransom will be starting at third base.
Dad: (silence)

8:49 pm:  Jon Miller calls Jimmy Rollins “J Roll.”  Please never do that again.

8:52 pm:  Jon Miller addresses Joe Morgan as “J Mor.”  I begin bleeding from my ears.  Although, I wonder if aging comedian Jay Mohr gets royalties for that shout out.

8:55 pm:  After a gritty at-bat, David Wright drives a 3-2 pitch to the alley in right center.  The U.S. takes a 2-1 lead.  Miller says, “David Wright comes through in the clutch!”  He seems just as surprised as all the Met fans that just fell out of their seats in shock.

9:04 pm:  My fiancée Karen comes into the room and announces that Alex Rodriguez has been linked to the same ring of call-girls that Eliot Spitzer was caught with.  What’s funny is that this comes on the heels of a brilliant episode of 30 Rock.  In the episode, Liz Lemon dates Jon Hamm, whose turn on Mad Men has him climbing my list of modern TV actors with James Gandolfini squarely in his sights.  The issue is that Hamm’s character has never experienced failure because he’s so good looking.  He flavors salmon with Gatorade and constantly fields requests from old ladies to give them tennis lessons, despite being a terrible player.  But when Liz struggles with the concept, Alec Baldwin asks if she beat him at tennis.  She responds, “No, I wanted to make out with him in Blockbuster.”

The same holds true for Alex Rodriguez.  Until he reached New York, he had been the guy everybody wanted to make out with in Blockbuster.  Now, he can’t hit in the clutch, cheats on his wife, and admits he used steroids.  No one wants to make out with him, for fear of contracting some communicable disease.  I don’t see a happy ending for this one.

9:13 pm:  Funny moment as Phillips describes Adam Dunn as a prototypical DH and then realizes Dunn has just signed with the Washington Nationals of the NL.  He quietly trails off and hopes nobody brings it up again.

9:21 pm:  Phillips begins inexplicably interviewing Morgan about his perspective as he watches a ballgame.  Does Joe Morgan compare himself to the players on the field?  I wonder if Jon Miller’s trying to remind Philips that this is a live broadcast and not some taped segment of Baseball Tonight.  Strange performance thus far by the ex-GM of the Mets.

9:25 pm:  As Morgan tries to talk Phillips off the ledge; the wheels come off for the U.S.  Brian Roberts can’t get to a grounder, then boots one at second base, and all of a sudden Japan has runners on the corners with nobody out.

Johjima hits another sac fly and then Oswalt hangs a curve to Aki Iwamura.  Japan takes a 4-2 lead.

9:26 pm:  Oswalt, who is throwing between 92 and 94 mph, shockingly throws a curve to Japan’s nine hitter, who, having seen something he can catch up to, raps it over the infield.  Japan leads by three.

9:29 pm:  Oswalt finishes his evening by throwing a fastball down the middle of the plate and giving up an RBI double.  Oswalt’s final line: 3.2 IP, 6 H, 4 ER, 1 BB, 1 K.  It wouldn’t have been awful if this were a spring training game.

9:32 pm:  The commercial break begins with a Hampton Inn ad punctuated by a cover of the Beatles’ “I Get By (With a Little Help From My Friends).”  Just to be clear, the Beatles won’t release their songs to be sold on iTunes, but they allow anyone with a guitar and a product to peddle to butcher their lyrics?  Sounds like a business model perfectly suited for this economy!

9:37 pm:  I’m losing interest.  The U.S. needs a rally to pull me back here.  Ooh, Iron Chef is on!  Battle Coffee; seen it.

9:43 pm: Daisuke fans David Wright with a fastball on the outside corner.  He exits as the left handed Dunn steps into the box.  His line: 4.2 IP, 5 H, 2 ER, 3 BB, 4 K, and 98 pitches.  Here’s hoping he feels those 98 pitches come September.

With the U.S. losing and the starting pitchers having exited, I’m less drawn to the game.  Let the channel surfing begin.

9:50 pm:  Nothing’s on?  Really?

9:55 pm:  I’m shocked to see Lou Diamond Phillips batting against John Grabow.  Nope, still the Japanese first baseman.  I thought I had stumbled across some strange sequel to La Bamba, where Richie Valens has to hit a curveball to save his immortal soul.

10:09 pm:  After Mark DeRosa crushes a ball that dies in the wind blowing in from left field, which has been a running subplot throughout the night, Karen comes in and starts fiddling with her laptop.  The following conversation then takes place:

Me: What’s up?Karen: LEAVE ME ALONE! STOP BEING SO NOSY!

I can’t wait for married life.

10:19 pm:  The only thing keeping me involved in the game is the debate I have had with myself for the last three innings.  Would it be inappropriate to make a Pearl Harbor joke?  I’m going to move on before I anger an entire country or a contingent of veterans.

10:23 pm:  I’m zoned out, checking status updates on Facebook.  The last three days of watching the NCAA tournament are catching up to me.  My eyes are glazing over.  To any of the female readers out there, have you seen your better halves since last Thursday?  If you have, do they resemble the zombies from Shaun of the Dead?  I know it’s how I feel after 96 straight hours of watching basketball.  Shouldn’t CBS pay for half of all divorce suits being filed in the month of March?

10:48 pm:  The U.S. rallies to within two in the top of the eighth.  I’m chanting USA, USA, USA with the crowd, and hoping that Hacksaw Jim Dugan makes a flag waving appearance at Dodger Stadium. Then Davey Johnson recalls Shane Victorino, who was preparing to pinch hit for Curtis Granderson, for Evan Longoria.

Johnson just made the worst strategic move I have ever seen.  He just opted to use a cold right-handed hitter that just flew cross-country to be at the game to face a right-handed pitcher, over the lefty Victorino.  This is the major difference between the U.S. and the rest of the competition in the tournament.  In a big spot in the game, the manager inserted a player to get him an at-bat in the WBC.   Where everyone else competes to win, the U.S. competes to either win or get some work that would be equivalent to spring training workouts.  On WFAN this morning, Evan Roberts and Joe Beningo astutely mentioned that the American public will not care about the WBC until the U.S. team makes us care.  The only ways to do so would be to include the cream of the crop of American players or to win the tournament.  The latter probably will not occur without the former.  Anytime a manager has to make 75 phone calls to field a team of 25, you know that the players on the field aren’t the best your country has to offer.  And he we are, two out in the bottom of the eighth, playing for a game-tying two-run homer.

Longoria strikes out.  Japan comes back in the bottom of the eighth and scores three more after a throwing error by Derek Jeter.  I unconditionally love the captain, but Jimmy Rollins makes that play.  I’m actively dreading that the left side of the Yankees’ infield–for the first few months of the season—may not be much better than what we’re going to put on the field at the middle school where I work.

11:25 pm:  Dunn, displaying some more of that Ted Williams-like patience, watches a fastball sail straight down the pipe.  Strike three; ballgame over.  The U.S. is eliminated.

So, Japan will meet Korea again on Tuesday night to decide the 2009 winner of the World Baseball Classic.  I’d like to think that I’m going to watch, but to be honest I’m not sure.  Jack Bauer’s exploits might have the promise of a little more excitement and a whole lot more yelling.  Also, there won’t be a thunder stick in sight.