Out of Ink

How to save Thursday Night Football

2013-11-07T17:53:00.000-08:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

Watching an entire game of Thursday Night Football isn’t easy. Overwhelmingly, it’s one of the sloppiest games of the week. It’s understandable too. It’s a brutal schedule that the NFL shouldn’t subject its players, especially the visiting teams:

Sunday: play a game (and maybe fly home)

Monday: go over the last game film, heal/rest

Tuesday: put in a game plan, prepare for new opponent

Wednesday: travel and probably a light walk-through

Thursday: play another game

It’s no wonder energy levels are so low, mistakes are common, late comebacks are rare, the visiting team rarely wins, and the injury risk is so high.

Here’s two quick steps to save Thursday Night Football:

1. Add a second bye week to every team’s schedule.

2 2. Mandate that both teams get a bye before the Thursday night showcase.

These two simple moves will increase the quality of the game, alleviate the risk of injury, add more football to the audience’s insatiable viewing calendar, and generate more TV revenue.

For a few years now, the NFL has considered increasing the regular season to 18 games. More games means more content, which means more money. Most players and fans are against it.

By adding a second bye week, you add more content without asking more from the players – or season ticket holders. You’ve now got an 18-week schedule. There would be fewer games each weekend, because there are more byes, but that just means more attention to each game.

Besides, the NFL is so masterful at creating intriguing matchups each week, all this really means is less chaos on the Red Zone channel for the early games.

The mandatory bye week before Thursday Night Football means players are more rested, coaching staffs have more time to prepare, more anticipation is built, and the quality of the game increases.

The second bye week gives players more time to heal injuries throughout the season. In an age with so much emphasis on concussion protocol, giving players more time to recover from all injuries is good for business, and good for the quality of the product.

One bye would be in the first nine weeks. The second bye week would be during the next nine weeks. The computers can space out the byes equally.

Changing the calendar is minimal. You can start the season one week earlier – the same week that college football starts – and still finish with the Super Bowl at the same time.

Seriously, there’s no drawback. So what if we get 10 games on Sunday’s instead of 14? That makes it easier to pay attention to every game.

The only real losers are employers who will get one less week of production from their employees because they are constantly checking their fantasy football teams on company time.

Networks get another week of games to televise, without losing anything. Advertisers get more airtime to push their message. The league can charge more for the rights because there’s another week. The players get more time to rest, mentally and physically, to make themselves healthier and make the games better.

These two simple tasks are a victory for everybody.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 7, 1988 NLCS -- Mets at Dodgers

2013-10-19T01:27:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson & the Improbable 1988 Dodgers." You can order a copy here, here, or at most major bookstores.

Wednesday, October 12, 1988

Los Angeles

Mets vs. Dodgers

NLCS Game 7

There was never a doubt that Orel Hershiser would start Game 7 for the Dodgers.

There was plenty of doubt—and questions remain 25 years later—about Ron Darling starting Game 7 for the Mets. Many question why Doc Gooden didn’t start the game. Many believe the Mets thought they could win with Darling, and they were saving Gooden for Game 1 of the World Series.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

But really, Darling was the Mets’ only option because of the rainout. The rainout meant two off-days between Games 2 and 3 and no off-day between Games 5 and 6. Gooden started Game 1, then Game 4 on four days rest. With the travel day wiped out, Gooden would be starting Game 7 on two days rest. That just wasn’t realistic. Gooden was available in relief, but he wouldn’t start.

David Cone started Games 2 and 6 (on four days rest). Sid Fernandez started Game 5. That left Ron Darling, who started Game 3, to start Game 7 on three days rest.

How much did Hershiser have left in his arm? To review: he threw 100 pitches in 81/3 innings in Game 1, 109 pitches in 7 innings in freezing cold weather on three days rest in Game 3, three pitches to one batter on zero days of rest in Game 4, warmed up in the bullpen in Game 5, and was now starting Game 7. It was three starts and four appearances in nine days.

“There’s no telling what kind of condition The Bionic Man will be in,” Mets manager Davey Johnson said in pregame. “I was amazed he was throwing [in the bullpen in Game 5]. He’s going to have to be Superman. I don’t expect him to have much stuff.”

When told of Johnson’s comments, Hershiser replied, “Tell him to grab a bat.”

It wasn’t the last time Hershiser would tell somebody to grab a bat in October.

* * * 

How big was Game 7? It was so big, Kirk Gibson shaved. And he started. Of course he started.

Johnson looked like a prophet in the first inning. Hershiser had no idea where the ball was going.

Lenny Dykstra flew out to left field, and Gibson hobbled over to make the catch. Wally Backman singled to left, and Gibson gingerly cut the ball off and threw it back to the infield. Keith Hernandez walked, and Lasorda looked noticeably nervous. He fidgeted with his hands. He paced more. All of the Bulldog’s pitches were up in the zone, not down.

Remember, when Hershiser made a surprise relief appearance back in May, his next start didn’t go well. In fact, it was Hershiser’s second-worst start in 1988: seven runs on 12 hits in seven innings. Was history repeating itself?

“Let’s go Bulldog,” encouraged Lasorda, clapping his hands. “Come on, Bulldog.”

Next up were the big boys. Strawberry grounded to Sax at second base, but it wasn’t hit fast enough for Alfredo Griffin to turn the double play. Hershiser worked unusually slow—a sign he was struggling. Kevin McReynolds hit a line shot down the line...directly into the glove of third baseman Jeff Hamilton.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

It took him 29 pitches, but Hershiser survived the first inning. Hershiser walked directly into the video room, pressed rewind on the machine, saw what was wrong with his mechanics, and made some adjustments. As he watched a video monitor, his teammates got him a lead.

Sax started it—again—with a single to right-center. With Sax running, Hatcher hit a liner off the glove of Jefferies at third base and down the left-field line. Sax stopped at third.

Gibson spent batting practice working with Manny Mota on a new swing. Because his legs were shot, he would swing with his upper body. Gibson spread out wide and took no stride toward the ball. In this game, he didn’t try to bunt. He hit a fly ball to center, deep enough to score Sax. Darling struck out Marshall and Shelby to end the first inning, keeping the score 1–0.

Hershiser made the mechanical adjustment and pitched a cleaner second inning, allowing a deep fly ball by Jefferies that was caught at the warning track and a harmless two-out single to Kevin Elster.

In the bottom of the second inning, the Mets fell apart. Scioscia singled to right, and Hamilton singled to left. Alfredo Griffin, the No. 8 hitter, was due up. Hershiser was in the on-deck circle.

Johnson held up one finger in the Mets dugout, a signal for the type of defense he wanted. Johnson was expecting Griffin to bunt and even with the pitcher on deck. The call was for the corner infielders to charge. Jefferies nodded at the dugout and charged home. Hernandez nodded at the dugout but did not charge home.

Griffin squared to bunt and popped the ball into the air, directly right where Hernandez was supposed to be. Hernandez wasn’t there. If he had charged he would have caught it easily. But he didn’t. Darling had to field the ball, and now Hernandez couldn’t get back to first base in time. Everybody was safe. Bases loaded.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” Hernandez yelled at himself. The best defensive first baseman of a generation screwed up a fairly simple bunt play. Hernandez didn’t think Griffin was really going to bunt, not with Hershiser on deck, and out-thought himself.

Darling was rattled. He gestured with his glove toward where he expected Hernandez to be. Pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre visited the mount to calm down Darling, who stood there with his hands on his hips.

With Hershiser batting, the Mets brought the corner infielders in. On a 1–2 pitch, Hershiser hit a slow tapper to third base. Jefferies wanted to go home and peeked toward the plate. In the process, he didn’t field the ball cleanly. He hesitated then realized it was too late to go home. He decided to throw to first, and in the process he dropped the ball. If Jefferies had caught the ball cleanly and thrown home immediately, Scioscia would have been out easily.

Everybody was safe, a run scored, and the bases were still loaded. There should have been two outs. Instead, there were no outs. Hershiser appeared to injure his leg sprinting down to first base. He was favoring one side.

Sax ripped a single up the middle, scoring Hamilton and Griffin. Hershiser cautiously went to second base and didn’t think about trying for third base. The Dodgers led 4–0.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Darling was done. Johnson brought in Gooden to make his first relief appearance since high school. Broadcasting on ABC, Jim Palmer said that Johnson should have used submariner Terry Leach because he was used to entering in the middle of an inning, whereas this was all foreign to Gooden. Doc felt it was weird, unreal, unbelievable.

During the pitching change, the trainer visited Hershiser to check on the right leg—Hershiser’s push-off leg when on the mound. But that wasn’t going to stop Lasorda from pushing the action on the bases. He called for a hit-and-run, and Hatcher hit a slow roller to second base. The only play for Backman was to first base. Hershiser went to third, and Sax went to second base.

With first base open, Gibson was intentionally walked to load the bases. Even on one leg, Gibson struck fear in the Mets. They’d rather pitch to a healthy and dangerous Mike Marshall. The strategy worked.

Marshall hit a grounder to Backman, a tailor-made double play. Of course, no double play is assured if Kirk Gibson is running from first base. Backman’s first mistake was playing the ball back, instead of charging the ball. That gave Gibson more time to reach second base. Even with a bad left knee, Gibson was breaking up the double play.

Gibson slid feet first at the bag and reached out with his hands to the right, trying to distract Elster. Backman’s shovel to Elster was high and pulled him off the bag. Everybody was safe. Again. Those should have been the third and fourth outs of the inning. Instead, it was now 5–0, and there was still only one out.

“You would never know Gibson has the hamstring injury,” Al Michaels said on ABC. “It was like he was cured in a second. He looked like he was 100 percent going into second base. Mind over matter.”

Gibson was hurting, however, and bad. Real bad. He sprained the medial collateral ligament in his right knee on that slide. The right knee was the good leg. Gibson had two bad legs now.

Shelby hit a fly ball to left field, deep enough to score Sax. It was 6–0 Dodgers. Hamilton struck out looking to finally end the inning.

“That wasn’t an inning,” Hernandez would say later, sucking on a cigarette. “That was a nightmare.”

The rest was academic. Hershiser wasn’t going to blow a six-run lead. The only questions were whether he would need bullpen help, and how much was his leg hurting?

Before the third inning started, Lasorda urged Hershiser, “Don’t let up! Go hard! Don’t save anything! We’ve got somebody behind you, if you can’t make it!”

It was his fourth appearance of the series, so Hershiser altered his usual game plan. He didn’t think he could continue throwing sinkers low and away. He threw more fastballs. His curveball was working, so he threw that pitch more than usual, too. Hershiser allowed four hits the rest of the game, two by Jefferies, who was 6-for-11 off Hershiser in the series. All the other Mets hitters were 12-for-77 (.156) against Hershiser during that series.

Gibson stayed in the game, but departed after three innings. Hatcher moved from first base to left field.

In the sixth inning, Hershiser’s leg must have felt much better because he tried to bunt his way on base. He missed the bunt, then lined out. Sax singled up the middle, and Hershiser was shown on camera on the phone in the dugout.

“What’s he doing, ordering champagne?” Michaels commented.

In the ninth, needing one more out to end the series, a fan ran onto the field. It was all smiles in the dugout. Even Gibson was back in the dugout. During the delay, the crowd worked itself into a frenzy, and Hershiser was so over-pumped by the moment, he forgot what pitch to throw against Lee Mazzilli. He was supposed to throw a sinker that starts inside and darts away from lefties. Instead, he forgot and threw a four-seam fastball that hit Mazzilli.

With two strikes against Howard Johnson, Hershiser stepped off the mound. Dodger Stadium was on its feet, roaring with delirium. Hershiser wanted to soak up the scene, feel the energy of the crowd. Hershiser was nearly on the verge of tears. It was the situation he had dreamt of as a kid.

On a 3–2 pitch, Hershiser struck out Johnson looking for the final out. Hershiser dropped to a knee, said a quick prayer, and was mobbed by teammates on the field.

Gibson remained in the dugout. So did Fernando Valenzuela. It was a strange contrast of images. The entire team was celebrating on the field like little kids, except the legendary Valenzuela and the aching Gibson. Valenzuela shook Gibson’s hand, and assured him it was smarter to stay in the dugout and not risk further injury in the celebration.

“I wasn’t feeling like hopping around,” Gibson recalled. “All I was thinking about is, ‘What am I going to do to get myself ready to play in a few days?’”

In the visiting clubhouse, it was stunned silence.

“Seven months, gone like that,” Hernandez said. “This is the most disappointed I’ve been in my career.”

“We beat ourselves,” Strawberry said. “Now we have to live with it.”

In the home clubhouse, it was raucous and wet—very wet. Hershiser still couldn’t believe what he’d done, what his teammates had done, and that they’d beaten the big bad New York Mets.

“That’s why everyone in here is even happier than we would normally be,” Hershiser, the MVP of the series, said that night. “We’re not a team of destiny. We’re not a dominant team. We’re a team of balance that works hard and plays with its heart. When we’re firing on all cylinders, when we’re bunting and moving runners and doing all the little things, we can beat anyone. When even one of the cylinders breaks down, we can look like a high school team.”

Amid the chaos, Tommy was in classic Tommy mode.

“We saved a lot of people all over the country a lot of money,” Lasorda exclaimed. “A lot of people travel to the Lady of Lourdes to see miracles. Now they don’t have to. They can come to Dodger Stadium to see the biggest miracle of all.”

Ten years later, Marshall said, “Those games were the most fun I ever had in baseball.”

Twenty-five years later, Hatcher said, “It was the most high that I’ve ever had in the game of baseball. I could not sleep. I just wanted to get to the ballpark the next day. I just wanted to play. Tommy was getting me in the lineup. I wasn’t going to let him take me out of the lineup. It was the most adrenaline I’ve ever had in my life. When we played the Mets, we were playing the best team in baseball. Not taking anything away from Oakland. The Mets beat us up all year. When that final game was over, we all thought we’d beat the best team in baseball. That’s why we went into Oakland thinking nobody can beat us now. That’s how I felt. Talking to a lot of other guys, they felt the same way.”

* * *

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 2 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 3 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 5 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 6 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 6, 1988 NLCS -- Mets at Dodgers

2013-10-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson & the Improbable 1988 Dodgers." You can order a copy here, here, or at most major bookstores.

Tuesday, October 11, 1988

Los Angeles

Mets vs. Dodgers

NLCS Game 6

David Cone was starting for the Mets. It seemed like an eternity since his newspaper career ended. He was glad the focus was just on baseball once again, called Game 6 the biggest start of his life, and was more worried about a suddenly potent Dodgers lineup than the bench jockeying he endured in Game 2. Davey Johnson gave him the option of traveling to Los Angeles ahead of the team to get more rest. Cone declined because he wanted to be with his teammates.

Tim Leary was starting for the Dodgers. An ineffective September pushed him to the bullpen at the start of the series. Leary understood. His arm was fatigued. He’d thrown a full Winter League season and then 228 2/3 innings in the regular season. His brief relief appearance in Game 4 didn’t go well. He was facing the team that originally drafted him. Ron Darling was his former roommate, and Wally Backman was his minor league teammate.

Orel Hershiser was not starting or relieving for the Dodgers. Hershiser started Game 1, started Game 3, pitched in relief in Game 4, and warmed up in Game 5. Hershiser volunteered to pitch Game 6 in relief.

Lasorda said, “No chance.” Hershiser was being saved for Game 7. “He’s crazy, just crazy,” Lasorda said. “No way he pitches. I’ll tell Jamie [his wife] not to let him out of the house.”

If it’s possible for a game’s tone to get set by the National Anthem, this was it. Saxophonist Kenny G played an over-styled National Anthem that clocked at more than two minutes—the over-under for Super Bowl National Anthems is usually 1:34—and at times didn’t sound like the National Anthem.

Saxophone critic Steve Sax declared, “It was the worst I’ve ever heard, the absolute worst. It was terrible, fucking terrible.”

Mike Marshall agreed, “It was a disgrace to America.”

* * *

Kirk Gibson, implausibly, was back in the starting lineup. The hamstring wasn’t close to 100 percent, it was maybe 50 percent, but Gibson was going to play anyway. The decision was made about 30 minutes before first pitch.

In a season where Gibson could do little wrong, one of his biggest mistakes came in the first inning of Game 6.

David Cone told reporters before leaving for New York that he doesn’t get nervous, he doesn’t feel pressure. Then he started Game 6 by walking Steve Sax on four pitches. Then he threw two more balls to Mickey Hatcher.

Pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre, catcher Gary Carter, first baseman Keith Hernandez, and second baseman Wally Backman all came to the mound. “He was nervous,” Stottlemyre said. “I could see it on his face. I could see he was tense and over-keyed up. He didn’t say anything. I said, ‘I know you’re nervous. Try to relax, step off and throw to first twice, three times if necessary, to get loose.’”

Carter said he tried to settle Cone down.

Hernandez said he tried to pump Cone up.

Backman said he was trying to build Cone up, in a calming way.

After getting four different pieces of advice, Cone followed the advice of his pitching coach. He threw over to first base. In the process, he stumbled and almost fell down. Then he threw to first base without stumbling or almost falling down.

Cone threw home again and not only missed for ball three, it was a wild pitch that advanced Sax to second base. Cone was melting down in the Los Angeles heat. He finally threw a strike, then another ball, to put Hatcher on first base.

“Carter and Hernandez were telling me to sit back on my back leg, stop lunging,” Cone said after the game. “But it’s real hard to do when your heart is jumping, and at that point, all I wanted in the world was to throw a strike.”

Cone got the world. He threw a strike to Gibson. Then Gibson did what Stottlemyre, Carter, Hernandez, and Backman couldn’t do—he calmed down Cone.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Gibson, inexplicably, tried to bunt for a base hit on the next pitch. Cone was struggling to throw strikes. Gibson could barely run. Gibson had homered twice in his previous five at-bats. Yet, for some reason, Gibson tried to bunt. He bunted the ball right into Cone's arms.

“Oh my gosh,” Carter said, “that was a bonus for us.”

Marshall flew out to left field. Shelby struck out swinging. The threat was squashed. Including those two outs, Cone retired 13 of the next 14 batters.

By the time the Dodgers put a runner on second base in the fifth inning, the Mets took a 4–0 lead from Leary. Mickey Hatcher got a run back in the fifth, an RBI single that scored relief pitcher Brian Holton (who got a rare at-bat and singled, after going 0-for-10 in the regular season). The lead was 4–1, but not for long. Dykstra doubled to chase Holton in the sixth, and Hernandez singled off Ricky Horton for a 5–1 lead.

That was all Cone needed. He allowed five hits, all singles. He walked one, after those two walks to start the game. He struck out six. He threw 120 pitches in the 5–1 complete-game victory.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

“Gibson bunting probably turned the game around,” Cone said. “I made a mistake, though. I should have let it drop. After I caught it, [Gibson] said, ‘You should have let it drop.’ And I probably should have.”

If Cone had dropped the ball, it would have been an easy triple play. The runners held at their bases. Gibson stood at the batter’s box.

Gibson patiently stood at his locker, answering wave after wave of questions about his health and about that fateful bunt. In his next three at-bats off Cone, he popped up to the infield each time. But that was a much different Cone than the nervous wreck in the first inning. Gibson took the blame for his decision to bunt.

“I screwed it up and should be held accountable,” Gibson said. “I’m sure it gave Cone a breath of life, but I didn’t second-guess myself then and I don’t now. I’m a good bunter, but the results were terrible.”

The best news for the Dodgers: Orel Hershiser didn’t bother warming up in the bullpen in Game 6, and Orel Hershiser was starting Game 7.

* * *

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 2 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 3 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 5 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 5, 1988 NLCS -- Dodgers at Mets

2013-10-16T01:43:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson & the Improbable 1988 Dodgers." You can order a copy here, here, or at most major bookstores.

Monday, October 10, 1988

New York

Dodgers vs. Mets

NLCS Game 5

Jay Howell watched Game 4 from his hotel room with his wife, Alison. Crank callers found out his hotel room and called to heckle him, pour more salt in the wounds. Normally, they’d have taken the phone off the hook. But they were awaiting another phone call.

Late that night, the call arrived. Alison’s father, Otto Quale, died of cancer. Otto knew he was going to die. He never let his daughter and son-in-law know how bad his condition was. He loved Jay Howell like his own son and lived vicariously through his major league career. In his will, Otto arranged for his own memorial service to take place in November, just in case the Dodgers were in the World Series. Otto didn’t want his funeral affecting Howell or the team.

Jay and Alison Howell never got the chance to say goodbye to Otto Quale. The only people who knew about his death were Tommy Lasorda and Fred Claire. Howell’s name was all over the newspapers. He wanted to appeal his decision and wanted to explain his motivation to National League president Bart Giamatti. He didn’t want people to think it was sandpaper, that he was a cheater for life. An informal hearing expedited the process. Giamatti cut a game off the suspension, making Howell eligible to pitch in Game 6.

Giamatti told Howell, “You’ll be in the headlines for a couple more weeks, and somebody else is going to take over in a big way, let me tell you. You’re not going to make headlines for long, I can assure you.”

Howell didn’t realize what that meant at the time. But a few months later, when Howell heard that Pete Rose was being investigated for betting on baseball, he knew what Giamatti meant.

Tim Belcher, after watching Game 4 from his hotel room, was one of the most rested players on the field for Game 5. It showed as he retired the first nine Mets hitters he faced.

“I think that they played late and I was back at the hotel gave me some of an advantage,” Belcher recalled. “The other thing was, remember, I was still a rookie. Our bullpen was spent. In the back of my mind, I thought I need a heck of an effort. I needed to pitch late in the game to give us a chance. It was a pretty pressure-packed game. After Game 2 was under my belt, I was feeling pretty confident.”

Sid Fernandez, another one of those former Dodgers who was traded away for a left-handed reliever to replace Steve Howe, started Game 5 for the Mets. Scoreless in the fourth inning, Gibson lined out, Marshall singled to center, Shelby drew another rare walk, and Rick Dempsey doubled down the left-field line—just inches fair—to score two runs. Alfredo Griffin doubled him home, and it was 3–0 Dodgers.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Sax started the fifth inning with a single. Mickey Hatcher also singled to right. Next up was Kirk Gibson.

It was 13 hours after his dramatic home run put the Dodgers ahead in the 12th inning of Game 4. Gibson was running on virtually no sleep. He returned to his hotel room about 4:00 am and went to bed but couldn’t sleep. He wanted to play Game 5 immediately. He got up, packed his suitcase, and tried to fall back asleep. He didn’t sleep much before heading back to the ballpark.

Gibson was thinking home run again. He tried to jack the first pitch he saw from Sid Fernandez, took what he admitted was “a stupid swing,” and fouled the ball off his foot. Gibson stepped out of the box, scolded himself for trying to hit a home run, and just tried to hit the ball hard somewhere.

On a 2–1 pitch, Gibson pounced on a Fernandez mistake and hit it hard somewhere. So hard, in fact, it went over the right-field fence for a home run. The score was 6–0 Dodgers.

This home run trot was more mellow, until he reached home plate. Gibson body-slammed with the equally excitable Sax and nearly separated Mike Marshall’s shoulder with the force of his high five.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Of course the Mets would rally, and of course they wouldn’t wait long. Johnson and Backman singled. Dykstra hit a three-run homer off Belcher. The lead was down to 6–3. Belcher regrouped. He retired the heart of the Mets lineup, in order, in the sixth inning. He shook off a leadoff single in the seventh.

In the eighth, Dykstra doubled to right, and Jefferies singled yet again. The lead was down to 6–4, and the Dodgers’ bullpen would be tested again. This time, Lasorda went to the seldom-used Ricky Horton. Pena wasn’t available after those three innings yesterday. Orosco was barely getting anybody out. Leary wasn’t effective the night before, and he needed to start Game 6.

Horton faced the two lefties. This was why Claire traded for him in late August, this exact scenario. Horton did half his job. He struck out Hernandez, and then Strawberry singled, making it runners at first and second with one out.

Lasorda turned to Brian Holton, whose performances were so important and so rarely made headlines all year. But after Holton, who was left? Incredibly, Hershiser was warming up in the bullpen again.

Luck helped end the Mets’ threat. McReynolds hit a slow roller that neither Hamilton nor Griffin could reach. Jefferies saw the ball rolling the same direction he was running and tried to jump over it. The ball hit the lip of the grass, took a higher bounce than Jefferies was expecting, and nicked his left cleat. Jefferies was out.

Instead of a possible one-run game, there was still a two-run cushion and now two outs. Carter followed with a deep drive to left field, but it was not deep enough. Gibson caught it at the warning track.

In the top of the ninth, Gibson singled with two outs. Gibson was looking for one more insurance run. Considering the status of his knees and hamstrings, and the score, it was probably not the time to push the envelope. Gibson only knew one way to play the game, though. Gibson took off for second base, looking to manufacture one more run.

The pitch from McDowell was in the dirt and got away from Carter. No throw was even attempted. Gibson didn’t look back. He didn’t know he could ease into the bag. As always, he slid hard into second base. The infield dirt was hard from all that rain. He actually felt a pain, a pop, in his final strides.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Gibson knew he was leaving the game right away. The 50,000 fans at Shea Stadium cheered his departure. It wasn’t a classy move at Shea Stadium, but Gibson took it as a compliment. The injury was called an aggravated hamstring below his left knee.

In hindsight, the risk of stealing second base looked even worse. Marshall tripled to right-center. Pinch runner Jose Gonzalez scored easily. The score was 7–4.

Holton retired the Mets in order in the ninth inning. By far, that was Holton’s No. 1 thrill of his baseball career. In the clubhouse, Hershiser thanked Holton for getting the final four outs and saving his arm.

The Dodgers were going back to L.A. leading 3–2, but the status of Gibson was unknown. He received a cortisone injection, said some prayers, and told reporters not to count him out. When it was suggested he took an unnecessary risk—something that even the Mets’ Hernandez said wasn’t smart—Gibson bristled.

“We were only two runs ahead, and it wasn’t like the Mets were laying down,” Gibson said that day. “They keep coming at you every inning. They weren’t conceding the game, but they weren’t paying attention to me. I had just beat out the infield hit, my leg felt fine. I didn’t feel I was jeopardizing it by running. I wanted the other run and made up my mind to go. I’m sure they’re sitting over there thinking I’m a dumb shit, but this injury is actually in a little different area than where I had felt it earlier. Besides, I can’t change my style. I have to play aggressively.”

Even through the lens of history, Gibson doesn’t regret that stolen base.

“I didn’t take it for granted that we had enough runs to win,” Gibson said. “Shit happens. We were almost down 3–1. Now we’re about to go up 3–2. You go. It’s time to go. It’s not time to say you’ve got enough runs. It’s full go.”

* * *

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 2 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 3 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 4, 1988 NLCS -- Dodgers at Mets

2013-10-15T01:59:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson & the Improbable 1988 Dodgers." You can order a copy here, here, or at most major bookstores.

Sunday, October 9, 1988

New York

Dodgers vs. Mets

NLCS Game 4

This was why the Dodgers acquired John Tudor. This was why they traded Pedro Guerrero. They acquired John Tudor to face the big, bad New York Mets—who were more vulnerable against lefties—in playoff games like this.

In the regular season, Tudor did what he was supposed to do. In nine starts, he posted a 2.41 ERA down the stretch. He went 4–3, and the team went 6–3. Tudor didn’t join his new teammates in the champagne celebration that night in San Diego. He’d only been there a little over a month. He thought it was their celebration, not his, because they were going to win the division no matter what he did.

The playoffs were different. Tudor knew that’s why he was acquired—to take the place of Fernando Valenzuela in the rotation. If he did his job and there was another celebration, Tudor would partake.

Tudor was starting Game 4 on eight days of rest. His last outing was September 30, and he lasted 11/3 innings until the spasms in his hip ended his night. The start before that, he pitched just four innings. He had no idea how his arm and hip would respond until he was out there.

But now the Dodgers needed Tudor more than ever. On their 24-man playoff roster, they carried nine pitchers. Jay Howell was suspended for three games, so now they were down to eight pitchers.

Howell talked to reporters in street clothes flanked by Lasorda, Perranoski, and Hershiser for moral support. Howell felt the suspension was too severe, again maintained that he wasn’t trying to cheat, and then headed back to the team hotel to watch the game on TV.

Kirk Gibson, Tudor, and a few others wrote the initials “JH” on their jerseys. The Dodgers felt the suspension was too severe. National League president Bart Giamatti weighed the pros and cons and wanted to make sure Howell was available for a possible Game 7.

Lasorda gave one of his trademark fire-and-brimstone pregame speeches. Lasorda said they were a team of character, of strength. Their backs were against the wall, but they would bounce back just like they did all year. He told them they were going to play with heart, with determination.

“We’re gonna win this ballgame,” Lasorda exclaimed, his voice rising with each word, “with or without Jay Howell.”

As the meeting ended, Hershiser went up to Lasorda and told him, “I’ll be your Jay Howell tonight.” Lasorda was so emotional, he was already on the verge of tears. Lasorda didn’t know if he should hug Hershiser, or tell him to fuhgetaboutit.

Game 4 started at 8:20 pm in New York. The field had a full 24 hours to dry out. The rain was gone, but it was still cold.

In the first inning, Steve Sax went back to the script on how to beat the Mets and Dwight Gooden. His slow roller to third base took a bad hop on Gregg Jefferies, and Sax was safe on an infield single.

Runners were safe 56-of-67 times stealing bases off the Gooden-Carter combo. Gooden threw over to first repeatedly. Gooden tried a slidestep and missed for a ball. Gooden went back to his high leg kick, and Sax stole second base. After spending so much attention on Sax, Gooden walked Mickey Hatcher on four pitches.

Gibson hit a chopper to the right side. Both runners advanced 90'. Marshall struck out on three fastballs, chasing a couple out of the strike zone.

John Shelby was 1-for-10 in the series. Gooden threw a fastball that jammed him on the hands. Shelby fought it off just enough, dropping a soft looper into right field. It was another classic Shelby hit—one of those that was important but not so important that he’d get bombarded by reporters afterward. The Dodgers led 2–0.

Tudor looked good for three innings, even with a fastball in the 80–82 mph range. He allowed just two hits, both singles, and two over the minimum.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

It all changed in the fourth inning. Hernandez sent a lazy curveball off the end of his bat into right field for a single. Tudor challenged Strawberry with an inside fastball. Strawberry extended his hands and hit a line shot over the right-field fence. Strawberry was given a curtain call by the fans at Shea Stadium. The sound of the ball leaving the bat was impressive. After the next pitch, ABC would have replayed the home run with the sound off the bat, but the network didn’t have time.

On that next pitch, Tudor threw an inside fastball to McReynolds, who promptly hit a solo home run into the left-field pavilion. Glenn Frey’s “The Heat Is On” blared from the stadium jukebox. It was 3–2 Mets.

Tudor survived the rest of that inning and the fifth inning. McReynolds opened the sixth with a double down the left-field line, a ball that took an awkward hop over the glove of Jeff Hamilton. Carter was up next, and he hit a drive over Shelby’s head in center. Shelby took an awkward route to the ball, turning the wrong way. The ball sliced back to his left. Carter slid head-first into third base.

It was 4–2 Mets, and that was it for Tudor. Brian Holton was super nervous before his first playoff appearance. He sang, “You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road” to calm himself down. It worked. Holton cleaned up the sixth without allowing a run.

Ricky Horton, who had otherwise been a disappointment since his trade from the Cardinals and who kept the popular Tim Crews off the playoff roster, pitched a scoreless seventh and eighth.

Meanwhile, Gooden was masterful. Entering the ninth, he’d allowed just one hit after the first inning and struck out eight. He was three outs from his first postseason victory, which would give the Mets a commanding 3–1 lead in the series.

The crowd restarted the “Beat L.A.” chant. John Shelby fell behind the count 0–2. That’s never a comfortable position against anybody, especially Doc Gooden. Shelby felt remarkably calm and relaxed. He thought Gooden would try to make him a chase a pitch out of the strike zone. He just wanted to make contact, do anything to get on base.

Shelby kept fouling pitches off to stay alive. On the eighth pitch, Gooden missed high, and Shelby was on base with a walk. Shelby walked 44 times that year, and that was a career-high. Lasorda once said, “You couldn’t walk Shelby intentionally. I used to tell him they could throw a paper plate from the stands and he’d swing at it.”

Gooden turned his head backward in dismay after issuing the walk to Shelby. Dodgers coach Joe Amalfitano looked at Gooden’s face after the walk and will never forget what he saw. Gooden realized that he’d walked Shelby, that he’d put the tying run at the plate, and he was out of sorts for a few moments. Next up was Mike Scioscia.

“Doc is throwing hard,” Scioscia remembered. “It’s like he found that extra gear, much like [Justin] Verlander does now. He’s really bringing it. I look and Keith Hernandez is holding John on. Wally Backman always shaded up the middle when Doc was pitching. I looked and said, ‘Oh my God, look at that hole.’ I know he’s going to throw a fastball. I don’t want to be late on it. I want to get the bat out. If I miss-hit it, that’s got to be a base hit. I just looked fastball, got the head out, made sure I was trying to hit it through that hole, and got a little bit of extension on it.”

Indeed, the first pitch—Gooden’s 127th of the night—was a fastball. Scioscia took a mighty rip and hit a low line drive to right field. It had just enough backspin to keep rising and give it a chance. Off the bat, all Scioscia thought was, If this hits the wall and I don’t make it to second base, Tommy is going to chew my ass out. “I was running as hard as I could.”

Strawberry could only watch. The ball cleared the wall, just barely, and the game was tied.

“There were 50-plus-thousand people there; they were going crazy, screaming the whole inning,” Scioscia said, on the 10-year anniversary. “And as the ball went out of the park, it got so quiet that I could hear my spikes digging through the dirt when I was running. That’s how quiet it got. It was eerie—to just have 50,000 people get so quiet. That’s something I’ll never forget.”

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

It was pandemonium in the Dodgers’ dugout. Scioscia had three home runs that year, one since June 27, and 36 total over his nine-year career. But the game was only tied. Fitting for his personality and his future as a manager, Scioscia said, “It felt great. But now we need to play defense. We had to keep going.”

The Dodgers would put two more runners on base, with one out, but Randy Myers retired Sax and Hatcher to end the threat.

Alejandro Pena pitched a scoreless ninth, 10th, and 11th inning without a hit. Pena walked Mookie Wilson in the 10th, but Scioscia threw him out trying to steal second base. Pena walked two more in the 11th, but he retired Howard Johnson to end that threat.

In the 12th, Franklin Stubbs was in the on-deck circle to pinch hit for Pena. Only two pitchers—Tim Leary and Jesse Orosco—remained because Game 5 starter Tim Belcher was back at the team hotel, getting ready for a noon start the next day.

Hershiser went to Perranoski and volunteered to pitch in relief.

“Are you kidding?” Perranoski said. “After seven innings in the cold yesterday?”

Hershiser reminded his pitching coach that his arm didn’t get stiff until the second day after a start. He was used to starting and relieving, after all those years of doing both in the minors. He’d done it earlier in the year, at Chicago, when the team was also short on arms.

Perranoski didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think about hurting Hershiser, about asking him to do something like that. Hershiser said he was going to the bullpen. He’d be available if needed. Perranoski still didn’t answer him.

Hershiser was wearing only a T-shirt and windbreaker. He went into the clubhouse and put on a uniform and a cup.

Orel III was in the visitor’s clubhouse. He was so cold, he’d bought a Mets sweatshirt to stay warmer, which he concealed under his raincoat. When he saw his son entering the clubhouse, father asked the son, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the bullpen,” Orel IV told Orel III.

“You’re going where?!”

Dad wasn’t happy. His younger son, Gordie, a Dodgers minor leaguer, had

already undergone two elbow operations. He would give the minor leagues one more year before retiring. Dad was always worried about the number of innings his sons were throwing.

“Someone is going to hit a homer, and I might have to pitch,” Orel said.

Sax grounded to third on the first pitch. Stubbs struck out looking. Gibson stepped in the batter’s box, mired in a 1-for-16 slump in the series. He hadn’t hit the ball out of the infield. Gibson knew he’d been terrible in the series. He was disappointed. His legs were killing him. His confidence was shaken. But it was another test, another opportunity to defeat The Beast.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

Gibson swung and missed at a first-pitch sinker. The second pitch was another sinker, but this one was flat and over the plate. Gibson pounced on it, blasting the ball 430' to that giant scoreboard in right field. It clanked off a potato-chip sign with the tagline, “Simply Delicious.”

At the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan, Belcher and his wife screamed so loud in celebration, hotel security called and requested they keep the noise down. Other guests on the floor had complained about the cheering.

Hatcher pumped his fist, going crazy in the dugout. Lasorda greeted Gibson with a big hug. It was the first home run Roger McDowell had given up since April 29—a stretch of 99 innings.

“Nice prediction,” somebody said to Hershiser in the clubhouse. Hershiser barely reacted. He didn’t watch the replay. The uniform was on. He hustled to the bullpen and went into Bulldog mode.

Bullpen coach Mark Cresse asked, “What are you doing here?” Hershiser told him he was getting ready. Cresse called to the dugout, asking Perranoski for permission. Hershiser started to loosen up his body, just to see how his arm felt, so he could give them a legitimate answer.

Tim Leary, a starter most of the year, was the first pitcher Lasorda would have used if Tudor broke down physically early in the game. Now, Leary was trying to close out the game in the 12th inning. Mackey Sasser started the inning with a single to right after a tense eight-pitch duel. Orosco was the only pitcher in the bullpen getting loose.

Lasorda paced the dugout. Ron Darling pinch ran for Sasser. Lee Mazzilli pinch hit for Roger McDowell, and he was asked to lay down a bunt. Maz hadn’t laid down a successful sac bunt in three years. Mazzilli fouled two pitches off and then singled up the middle. Here come the Mets; it was déjà vu all over again.

And here came Gregg Jefferies again. Lasorda paced the dugout more. Inexplicably, Davey Johnson asked Jefferies to bunt again. He’d asked Jefferies to bunt in the 10th, and he popped out. Johnson asked the kid again, and Jefferies fouled it off. Johnson then came to his senses. When you bat .360 in the minors, nobody asks you to bunt. Johnson took off the bunt sign, and Jefferies flied out to Gibson in left field.

Two lefties were due up, Hernandez and Strawberry. Lasorda knew he needed to bring in Orosco to face the two lefties. This is why they acquired Orosco. This was his job. Perranoski reminded Lasorda that nobody was left after Orosco. Lasorda went to Orosco anyway.

It was 10 minutes before 1:00 am.

Orosco entered the game, and the fans at Shea Stadium were all over him. They loved him in 1986, hated him in 1987, and now were ready for Orosco to implode. All of the Dodgers’ infielders said something to Orosco after his eight warm-up pitches.

The first pitch was a slider that crossed up Dempsey and nearly went to the backstop. Ball one.

“Is that Hershiser in the bullpen?” a stunned Al Michaels said on ABC.

Dempsey went to the mound to make sure they were clear on the signs. During the delay, Hershiser threw a couple pitches, adjusted his cap, and gave a reassuring nod of his head.

Hernandez swung and missed at a fastball, evening the count at 1–1. Another fastball was fouled back. Then a fastball missed inside, and the count was even again at 2–2. Mickey Hatcher paced in the dugout, too nervous to sit. Lasorda was remarkably still, hands in his jacket.

Orosco missed with a curveball. The count was 3–2. With each ball that Orosco threw to Hernandez, the crowd screamed a little louder. Orosco went to another curveball and missed again. Ball four. The bases were loaded.

Now it was Strawberry. Ball one. Lasorda sprinted out of the dugout. Lasorda rarely visited the mound. Perranoski made almost all the pitching changes. This wasn’t a pitching change. This was Lasorda delivering a message to Orosco—equal parts encouragement and four-letter threats. Lip readers noted the message began with, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Lasorda returned to the dugout and told Perranoski, “Do you think the Lord will make it possible for this guy to strike out or pop up? Because if he does, I’m bringin’ in the Bulldog.”

Orosco went back to his fastball, and Strawberry fouled it off. He dropped in a beauty of a curveball for a 1–2 count. Another curveball was popped up to Sax on the infield. Two outs.

Still though, the bases were loaded. McReynolds was at the plate. The hitter the Dodgers feared most entering the series. The hitter who was slumping until his home run and double earlier in the game.

“Go get the Bulldog,” Lasorda said to Perranoski.

“Tommy!” Perranoski said. “The guy pitched seven innings last night! What if they tie the game? How long can he go? He’s all we’ve got!”

“They’re not gonna tie this game,” Lasorda said. “I’m puttin’ the pot of gold on the Bulldog. Go get him!”

Perranoski left the dugout, and Hershiser saw him walking toward the mound. This was what he’d volunteered to do. The adrenaline shot through his body. Hershiser threw two final warm-up pitches and came into the game. It was just like Wrigley Field back in May when Hershiser entered the game in extra innings after Gibson had homered for the lead.

For a brief moment, Hershiser thought to himself, What have I gotten myself into? Then he snapped out of it, telling himself, Don’t think like that. You have one job, and only one job, and that’s the next pitch.

From the ABC booth, Al Michaels noted the Dodgers’ predicament. “This is the seventh man on what’s now an eight-man pitching staff,” Michaels said. “The eighth is back at the hotel.” Tim McCarver declared, “This is truly all or nothing at all.”

Sax, of course, was pumped. “I thought it was fantastic,” Sax reflected. “This is exactly what our team needed. Our team needed to keep Orel on the field as much as we could. When you have a starting pitcher who comes out of the bullpen, you just love that. Not a lot of guys will do that. You love that kind of attitude. Our team was a fighting type of team. What a fucking team, you know? That’s what we were about. Orel comes into a game like that. It picks people up.”

Belcher watched from the hotel room, as stunned as anybody. He received a call earlier in the night from the traveling secretary and was told that he might be summoned from his hotel room to the ballpark if they were short on pitchers.

“I think at some point,” Belcher recalled, “they said, ‘Forget the idea of bringing him back to the stadium. We’ll figure it out as we go. If we have to use a position player, we will.’ I don’t think there’s any question in my mind that Orel would have pitched another 3–4–5 innings if he had to.”

A fan held up a sign that said “Orel Who?” It sounded like the entire Shea Stadium crowd was chanting, “O-O-O-O-O-rel, O-O-O-O-O-rel.” Hershiser loved it. He used the chant to get worked up. Hershiser looked into the Mets dugout. He wanted to see their faces as he entered the game on zero days rest. He rearranged the dirt for his landing foot. He paced on the grass a little, feeling the moment, thinking of the dangers, working himself into a frenzy.

“This is a scenario that you could not imagine,” Al Michaels told ABC’s audience. “You sorta had a feeling the Howell suspension would come into play, if the game was close. But never did you imagine in your wildest dreams that Hershiser would come in and pitch.”

Michaels mentioned that McReynolds was 7-for-41—a .171 career average— against Hershiser. Jim Palmer quickly added, “Those numbers don’t reflect Hershiser threw 110 pitches yesterday.” Over the loudspeaker, U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” was played.

Lasorda paced the dugout like crazy. He was a nervous wreck and scared to death. He was putting the entire game on this one at-bat. But it wasn’t just this game. The series was at risk. Hell, Hershiser’s career was at risk.

Lasorda prayed. Lord, I’ll tell ya somethin’. Let Bulldog get this guy out, and I’ll never ask ya for anything again.

In the clubhouse, Mike Scioscia couldn’t watch. He’d been replaced in the 11th inning, and he was now watching on television. Sure, he was nervous about the game’s outcome. But he was more concerned about Hershiser and didn’t want to watch a teammate wreck his career.

If you thought Dad was concerned, just imagine how Mom felt. Back in Los Angeles, Mildred Hershiser watched the game on TV. When she saw her son entering the game, she could no longer contain her emotions.

“It’s not fair!” she cried out, tears running down her face. “It’s not fair! His arm is going to fall off!”

In the outfield, Gibson, Shelby, and Marshall talked to one another as Hershiser made his final eight warm-up pitches. They all agreed to move a few steps toward home plate. They’d rather have McReynolds hit one over their head than get beat by another blooper.

“Lasorda’s worst nightmare is for this game to end up tied,” Michaels said. “Well, that’s his second worst nightmare. You know what I mean.”

Hershiser knew his plan against McReynolds. He wouldn’t throw a curveball. He wouldn’t risk the wild pitch. He wouldn’t throw a sinker. He was going back to schoolyard ball. He was going to throw every pitch as hard as he possibly could. He was going to be, as Howell liked to say, a “brain-dead heaver.”

The first brain-dead fastball was fouled straight back. Hershiser rubbed up a new baseball then asked for another one.

“He worked seven innings yesterday on a brutally cold afternoon,” Michaels said.

Photo courtesy of LA Daily News

The second pitch was a brain-dead fastball that missed outside for a ball. Hershiser’s adrenaline was flowing so hard, the ABC radar gun had his fastballs at 94 and 95 mph. Normally, he’s between 90–92 mph. The crowd chanted, “Let’s go Mets,” over and over.

The third brain-dead fastball tailed inside on McReynolds’ hands. McReynolds broke his bat. It was a little looper, shallow center field. It was just like Game 1.

Shelby charged as fast as he could. This time, the ball held up. Shelby didn’t need to dive. He reached down, made a catch at his knees, and reached the glove back into the air for dramatic effect. Sax jumped into the air in celebration.

“I knew I had to come in, and I had a good bead on it,” Shelby recalled. “I just had to catch the ball.”

“When you write the story of this game, where in the world do you begin?” Michaels asked the TV audience.

Hershiser had done it. The series was tied 2–2. The Dodgers reacted like they’d just won the series. Hershiser thrust his fist in dramatic fashion. Lasorda hugged Hershiser. Lasorda ran out to the outfielders and hugged Gibson. Let’s face it, everybody was hugging everybody.

On the way up the ramp from the dugout to the clubhouse, Lasorda pumped both arms over his head. He yelled as loud he could, for everyone to hear.

“What a fucking team! What a fucking team! What a fucking team! What a fucking team! What a fucking team!”

Game 5 would start in less than 11 hours.

* * *

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 2 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read the excerpt from Game 3 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 3, 1988 NLCS -- Dodgers at Mets

2013-10-14T02:46:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson & the Improbable 1988 Dodgers." You can order a copy here, here, or at most major bookstores.

Chapter 15

NLCS

Saturday, October 9, 1988

New York

Dodgers vs. Mets

NLCS Game 3

The Mets were still steamed at the David Cone drama. They weren’t happy about what he said and how those words appeared in print. But they were even more upset at the crude and obscene things the Dodgers yelled at Cone from their dugout.

“Sportsmanship is out,” was the first sentence in a story in The New York Post. The Mets vowed they would get revenge. They had a pretty good idea how to do it. They just had to wait for the right moment.

They would wait through the travel day. They would wait through another day, after rain postponed Game 3 from Friday to Saturday. They would wait until late in Game 3, when the opportunity presented itself.

Because of the rainout, and because of the fragile condition of John Tudor’s hip and elbow and shoulder, Orel Hershiser started Game 3 on three days rest. Hershiser considered it a blessing, not a detriment. Two of the shutouts during The Streak came on three days rest. The sinker worked better when he wasn’t as rested. Plus, Hershiser was still angry about how Game 1 ended, and he was eager to get back on the mound.

Roger McDowell looks at the rain that plagued Game 3

In retrospect, Hershiser thought Game 3 should have been postponed yet another day. The temperature at first pitch was 43 degrees. The wind was blowing at 10 mph. The game started at 12:20 pm in New York, and it was so overcast, it looked like it was already a night game. In the official box score for the game, the field condition is described as “soaked.”

Mets owner Nelson Doubleday wanted a night game so the field would have more time to dry out. Doubleday fumed to Newsday that television was “screwing the national pastime.... This is the Fall Classic and we have to change things because the networks want to make money off us and off college football and pro football? When do we start making sense? They should come to us and ask us when we are going to play the games. I don’t want my guys playing on a soggy field. I don’t want a game decided because somebody’s outfielder slipped on wet grass. TV shouldn’t want it, either.”

Hershiser was convinced the only reason the game was played was because it was the playoffs and they needed to fit the game into the schedule. The A’s beat the Red Sox that day to go up 3–0, and they were ready for a sweep in Oakland. Hershiser wrote the following in his 1989 book:

“Shea Stadium was so muddy and sloppy it was like playing in a pigsty. The tarp had protected the field before we started, but by the fourth inning it was a like a soup bowl. With the temperature in the forties, I wore long underwear, my long-sleeved sweatshirt, and a dickey. A lot of our guys moaned about having to play at all, but it was the same for both teams. I tried to encourage them, saying that whoever was the toughest was going to win.”

Hershiser walked two batters in the first inning. He had trouble with his footing because he was worried that he would slip and fall. He also struggled to get a solid grip on the ball. Pitching coach Ron Perranoski noticed that Hershiser wasn’t bending his back enough because his footing was tentative. Hershiser was able to get out of the first inning without any runs allowed.

Kirk Gibson, the native of Michigan, would call it the coldest game he ever played in. He compared it to taking an ice bath for nine innings. The conditions got worse as the game went along. Midway through at-bats, hitters would try to dry their bat by wiping it between their legs or under their arms. The grounds crew worked on the infield between every half-inning, spreading Diamond Dry on the ground to soak up the moisture.

Ron Darling struggled even more than Hershiser. He issued two walks to start the second inning. On a sacrifice bunt, 10-time Gold Glove–winning first baseman Keith Hernandez (he won his 11th in 1988) threw the ball away to score one run. Jeff Hamilton’s groundout scored another run.

In the third inning, Sax went back to the blueprint. He singled to right, stole second base, went to third on a slow roller to Darling, and scored on a grounder to second base by Gibson. It was 3–0 Dodgers.

In the bottom of the third, the Mets answered. Gregg Jefferies, who walked in the first inning, singled to center. It was his fifth time reaching base in six plate appearances against Hershiser.

Hernandez crushed a ball to left field that he thought was a home run for sure. But with the wind blowing in, and in the damp conditions, the ball didn’t carry. Gibson caught it on the warning track. Strawberry followed with a liner to right, a double that trimmed the Dodgers’ lead to 3–1.

In the fifth, the field would nearly impact another play. Mookie Wilson hit a line drive to left field that Gibson pursued. Gibson slipped on the grass, fell to his knees, staggered back up to his feet, and made a diving catch. Gibson would change his shoes after the inning. But they just made bigger divots.

The sixth inning would bring more drama and more problems from the conditions.

Hernandez singled to start the inning. Strawberry singled to left, and Hernandez momentarily stopped at second base, until he saw Gibson bobble the wet ball. Hernandez started running again, slipped on the muddy field, stumbled on his way to third base, and fell on his chest. Ultimately, he tried crawling to third base and was easily tagged out.

The out proved to be crucial. Kevin McReynolds reached on a throwing error by third baseman Jeff Hamilton, another casualty of the poor field conditions. Howard Johnson hit into a fielder’s choice for what should have ended the inning.

Instead, Carter singled to right to score a run. It was 3–2. Wally Backman hit a grounder between first and second. As Hershiser sprinted over to cover first base, he saw first baseman Mickey Hatcher just barely get a glove on the ball. If he missed the ball entirely, Sax fields it and throws out Backman. But by touching the ball, it slowed down too much. Everybody was safe. Game 3 was tied 3–3.

In the eighth, Roger McDowell struck out Mike Marshall and John Shelby. Scioscia hit a slow comebacker. McDowell backhanded the ball, slipped on the field, and threw the ball into right field. The field conditions were officially a joke.

Hamilton reached on an infield single. Then Mike Davis pinch hit for Alfredo Griffin and drew a walk. It wouldn’t be the last time that month that Davis would hit for Griffin and draw a walk. The bases were loaded.

Lefty Danny Heep pinch hit for Hershiser. Davey Johnson countered with Randy Myers, a lefty. Lasorda countered that move, hitting Mike Sharperson for Heep. Sharperson worked a seven-pitch walk, forcing in a run. The Dodgers led 4–3.

Lasorda needed six outs to secure this one-run victory. Lasorda handed the ball to Jay Howell, who pitched two innings 15 times in the regular season, eight times getting a save. The first batter Howell faced was Kevin McReynolds.

The game was three hours old, and the weather had gotten worse. It was colder. A steady drizzle had fallen the entire game, and this was after a day and night of hard rain. The field was a marsh. Howell’s first three pitches were balls. The next two pitches were out of the strike zone, but McReynolds swung and fouled them off.

On the ABC telecast, there was mention of a black spot on Howell’s glove. Mets first-base coach Bill Robinson told manager Davey Johnson that Howell was tugging on the glove between pitches. Johnson waited another pitch, saw the same tugging, and approached home-plate umpire Joe West about what he saw.

Photo courtesy of LA Times

Sportsmanship, indeed, was out.

West went to the crew chief, Harry Wendelstedt, and the two walked to the mound to see Howell’s glove. Second baseman Steve Sax, first baseman Tracy Woodson, and catcher Rick Dempsey went to the mound to find out what was going on. The Dodgers’ dugout was clueless. They thought maybe Howell went to his mouth, and a ball would be called, thereby leading to a McReynolds walk.

“When they came out to check, I walked to the mound,” said Woodson, now the head coach at Valparaiso University. “I knew I wanted to coach and manage. I walked in a lot. If Perranoski came out to the mound, I would always go out there. I wanted to hear what was being said, and I wanted to learn. I wanted to be involved. [The pine tar] was on there. Wendelstedt was using his thumb to rub and see what was on there.”

Wendelstedt and West ejected Howell for having a foreign substance on his glove. Howell offered no protest as he walked off the mound.

“The place went nuts,” Woodson said. “I remember seeing Jay Howell’s face. He was just shocked. I didn’t know anything about it.

Sax added, “It was flagrant. It wasn’t happenstance that a bunch of pine tar ended up on his glove.”

In the 2001 book True Blue, Howell said the following: “Guys have been using it for a million years. Most hitters don’t give a shit. They don’t care about pine tar. They don’t like spitballs. Anyway, I’m pitching to Kevin McReynolds. Then Davey Johnson comes walking out of their dugout. Davey says to Harry Wendelstedt, ‘Take a look at his glove.’ He turns around and throws me out of the game. I said, ‘Harry, what the fuck are you doing? Why don’t you just take the glove? I’ll get another glove.’ But it’s too late. The fans are going bananas in New York. And I go into the dugout and I’m thinking, This is bullshit. David Cone is using a black glove. Doc Gooden uses a black glove. Are you kidding me? There’s no mystery why guys use a black glove.”

The rowdy crowd at Shea Stadium chanted “L-A Cheats! L-A Cheats!” Sitting next to owner Peter O’Malley and their wives, hearing the abuse from Mets fans, general manager Fred Claire steamed.

The Philadelphia Inquirer reported that, during the commotion after the ejection, one Mets relief pitcher hurried into the clubhouse and changed gloves.

Alejandro Pena was forced to enter the game cold, without properly warming up, which enraged the Dodgers even more. Pena’s first pitch was a ball, so McReynolds was aboard. McReynolds was forced out on a bad bunt by Howard Johnson, who made up for it by stealing second base. Carter flew out for the second out—and maybe Pena could somehow escape trouble.

Backman had other ideas. The second baseman crushed a double to right- center and the game was tied. Pinch hitter Lenny Dykstra walked, and that was it for Pena.

Next came Orosco. Mookie Wilson singled home the go-ahead run. Orosco hit Jefferies with a pitch to load the bases, and he walked Hernandez to force home another run. Ricky Horton entered the game next, and Strawberry singled home two more runs. It was a five-run inning and an 8–4 Mets lead.

Photo courtesy of NY Daily News

The Dodgers went quietly in the ninth—against David Cone, of all people— to end a 3-hour, 44-minute game that wasn’t anything resembling a masterpiece, but a classic for sure.

The Dodgers kept the clubhouse closed for 25 minutes after the game, 15 minutes longer than the usual 10-minute cooling-off period. When the doors opened, Howell knew what was awaiting him. He answered every question. He admitted putting pine tar on his glove but denied it was to gain an unfair advantage by making the ball move.

“The resin [bag] doesn’t help on a cold day like this, and the ball gets so slippery you can’t even grip it,” Howell said that day. “All the [pine tar] is there for is to help me grip the ball. I regret all this. But I wasn’t doing it to make the ball move any funny way.”

That’s not what the Mets thought.

Remember, the Mets were convinced that Mike Scott was scuffing the baseball during the 1986 playoffs. They had what they thought was evidence, a bunch of balls with scuff marks, but Scott was never caught with any foreign substances.

Remember too, this was a time when players were getting caught cheating regularly. In 1987 alone, Twins pitcher Joe Niekro was caught with an emery board in his back pocket, Phillies pitcher Kevin Gross was found with a strip of sandpaper glued to the heel of his glove, cork was found in the broken bat of Astros outfielder Billy Hatcher (who claimed it was pitcher Dave Smith’s bat), and Howard Johnson’s bat was confiscated twice (but never found illegal) after public accusations by Cardinals manager Whitey Herzog.

The tip on Howell originated from a butcher shop in Covington, Tennessee. That’s where Tucker Ashford, a former teammate of Howell in 1982 with Triple A Columbus in the Yankees organization, was working when he observed how dark Howell’s cap was in Game 1.

Ashford, a former minor league coach in the Mets’ organization, didn’t remember Howell throwing a curveball that broke as much as it did in Game 1. Ashford suspected that Howell was using pine tar, or some foreign substance, so he called Mets director of minor league operations Steve Schryver, who relayed the information to Davey Johnson.

“Certain pitchers have certain reputations,” Johnson said.

“We knew Howell had a great breaking ball, and this kind of confirms that he had a little help,” Carter said.

Howell’s best defense came from Keith Hernandez, an unlikely source. “I feel badly for him because I don’t think he was trying to make the ball do anything. He was just trying to get a grip on it. If the Dodgers would lose their best reliever now, that just wouldn’t be fair.”

Fred Claire didn’t care about Howell’s intent. A rule was a rule. The commissioner’s office once called Claire, annoyed that the Dodgers placed more calls than any other team in the league about rules, and was concerned that Claire was trying to find loopholes in the rules. In Claire’s mind, you went right up to the edge of the rulebook and looked for every edge possible. But you didn’t cross the line. Ever. Claire was livid in the stands but needed to hold his composure. Once the game was over, Claire stormed into Lasorda’s office.

“You bet I was pissed,” Claire said 25 years later. “I wasn’t quite sure what happened. I went into the clubhouse and said, ‘You get Jay in here. You get Perranoski in here. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but whatever happened, I want it declared exactly what happened. We don’t cheat. Whatever the fuck happened, nobody better say anything other than exactly what happened. Period.’ I was pissed. I’m still pissed today.”

* * *

To read the excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To read age excerpt from Game 2 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 2, 1988 NLCS -- Mets at Dodgers

2013-10-12T02:19:00.000-07:00

Chapter 15

NLCS

Wednesday, October 5, 1988

Los Angeles

Mets vs. Dodgers

NLCS Game 2

Dave Anderson didn’t make the playoff roster because of a back injury. He’d done a yeoman’s job subbing for Alfredo Griffin at shortstop for two months. In the playoffs, he’d have to find another way to contribute. Anderson arrived early for Game 2, and a Dodgers public relations member showed him an article from the New York Daily News.

“Ever heard the saying, ‘Better to be lucky than good?’ Trash it, because Hershiser was just lucky. Look what happened to luck in the ninth inning last night. It’s called justice—catching up to luck and pummeling it into the ground. Trouble was, Orel was lucky for eight innings.”

Those weren’t the words of a New York columnist stirring things up. Those words were under a first-person byline of David Cone, the starting pitcher in Game 2 of the playoffs. Cone didn’t “write” the column himself. He was interviewed by Bob Klapisch, who was responsible for putting his thoughts into print.

That wasn’t even the most controversial part of the column, either.

“I’ll tell you a secret: As soon as we got Orel out of the game, we knew we’d beat the Dodgers. Knew it even after Jay Howell had struck out HoJo. We saw Howell throwing curveball after curveball, and we were thinking, This is the Dodgers’ idea of a stopper? Our idea is Randy [Myers], a guy who can blow you away with his heat. Seeing Howell and his curveball reminded us of a high school pitcher.”

Anderson made copies of the column, underlined the key passages, and plastered the clubhouse with them. He put them in the trainer’s room, on the walls of the clubhouse, on the chairs of teammates, and a stack was on Tommy Lasorda’s desk.

“Trying to do something, you know, to motivate the boys,” Anderson recalled, laughing.

The Dodgers arrived to the clubhouse an equal combination of down and angry. Then they read the article and became a combination of pissed and aggressive.

“We didn’t have a good opinion of the Mets,” Hershiser recalled. “Then Lasorda came into the locker room yelling, ‘If this was a one-game series, I’d be depressed! But it’s not! It’s a seven-game series!’ He was doing all the Tommy stuff and yelling at us.”

The days of “bench jockeying” were mostly a lost art in 1988. There was more than what you’ll see nowadays but far less than the 1960s and 1970s. Players didn’t razz opposing players from the dugout. It’s mostly a quiet place. But things would change on this night.

The game started later than usual due to the vice presidential debate between Senator Dan Quayle, the Republican nominee of George Bush, and Senator Lloyd Bentsen, the Democratic running mate of Michael Dukakis.

When questioned about his lack of experience, Quayle said, “I have as much experience in the Congress as Jack Kennedy did when he sought the presidency. I will be prepared to deal with the people in the Bush administration, if that unfortunate event would ever occur.”

Bentsen replied, “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you are no Jack Kennedy.”

David Cone was no Jim Murray in the sports section. The Dodgers would ensure he would be no Orel Hershiser on the pitching mound, either.

Steamed from Cone’s words, the Dodgers’ players turned into high school or college players. They were all over Cone, giving him hell. Every player except for starting pitcher Tim Belcher was on the top step of the dugout. They heckled Cone worse than any fan in the bleachers could ever heckle.

Cone was rattled. In the first inning, he walked Mickey Hatcher, balked him to second, and Mike Marshall singled him home.

In the second inning, after getting one out, Cone dropped down sidearm, and Jeff Hamilton was hit by a pitch. Griffin struck out with a feeble swing on a splitter.

Belcher (an .091 hitter) singled up the middle to keep the inning alive. Sax singled up the middle to score a run, Hatcher doubled (just barely fair down the left-field line) to score two runs, Gibson was intentionally walked, and Marshall singled home another.

It was 5–0. Cone was done after two innings.

Tim McCarver on ABC, “I guess the moral to the story is if you’re going to write a column in the playoffs, write it like Ann Landers. I tell you, this is a different Dodgers club.”

“Everybody was geared up,” Belcher reflected. “I remember virtually everybody standing on the top step, screaming at him in the bottom of the first inning. Every- body except me, I was the starting pitcher, so I’m sitting back and relaxed. I remem- ber Rick Dempsey, top-stepping, screaming at him, all kinds of stuff. I think it really rattled David. I don’t know if he would ever admit it. He was pretty early in his career, too. He had a tremendous career. I think that rattled him. We got to him.”

Belcher started Game 2 because Tim Leary was inconsistent the last month of the season (5.13 ERA), and because John Tudor felt muscle spasms in his left hip in his final regular-season start. Tudor’s elbow wasn’t right, either. A scout clocked his fastball at 78–80 mph in his final three starts in September.

Belcher, who couldn’t throw enough strikes in the minors and had no future with the A’s and needed to win a job in spring training and was a reluctant closer in early summer and needed to shed the label of a six-inning pitcher in late summer, took a 6–2 lead into the ninth inning. The only runs he’d given up came on a two- run home run to Keith Hernandez in the fourth inning.

Lenny Dykstra doubled to start the ninth, Jefferies grounded out, and Hernandez singled home a run. Now it was 6–3. Belcher was removed, and he wasn’t happy. Belcher calmly walked to the bat rack, picked out a model of his choosing, slammed it against the dugout steps, and flung it under the bench.

“It was frustrating,” Belcher remembered. “Orel carried our club. From what I remember, it was like, ‘Jeez, we’ve come this far. We got beat with our best pitcher on the mound, and now we’re facing the prospect of going to New York down two- nothing?’ It didn’t sit well.”

Hershiser walked over, put his arm around Belcher, and tried to calm him down. Hershiser told him, “Don’t worry about the ninth, you did your job, you did what you were supposed to do.” Belcher was still pissed at himself for giving the Mets a chance. He feared Game 2 would end just like Game 1 did.

Whether the Dodgers wanted to admit it or not, the Mets were in their collective heads. That’s what happens when a team beats you 10-of-11 times in the regular season and rips your heart out against your ace and closer in the first game of the playoffs.

Now it was up to Jesse Orosco against his former teammates. Orosco would face Strawberry, lefty on lefty, the exact reason why the Dodgers acquired Orosco. On the third pitch, Strawberry singled to right field.

The tying run was coming up. Were the Mets really going to rally in the ninth? Again? The anxiety level permeated throughout Dodger Stadium and even inside the dugout. What was Lasorda going to do? Would he go back to Howell? Would he stick with Orosco?

Lasorda yanked out Orosco and called on Alejandro Pena to get the final two outs this time. Pena retired Kevin McReynolds, the hitter the Dodgers feared the most in that lineup, on a foul popup. Howard Johnson was more dangerous from the left side, and Pena knew it. He pitched him carefully and ended up walking Johnson.

Now the bases were loaded, and Gary Carter was up—again. The sinking feeling was there in the stomachs, a feeling of deja vu. Carter fell behind the night before on curveballs. He wasn’t going to fall behind again. He was going to swing early. He swung at the first pitch, hit a line drive to right field, and Marshall caught it to end the game.

After the game, the biggest story for the newspaper men was the newest member of their profession. Before the game, Cone said he was misquoted. After the game, he said it was supposed to be a joke.

“Everything I said in there was meant in a facetious manner,” Cone said. “For me to belittle a fine pitcher like Jay Howell isn’t right, and it wasn’t meant like that. The comments were made after a very emotional game. I take total responsibility. Nothing I can say will justify what was in the paper. But again, they were meant to be facetious.”

As for the impact of the column on the game, Cone said four of the hits were “seeing-eye hits...I don’t think that newspaper article made those grounders find holes.”

In the next day’s paper, Cone issued an apology. After consulting with Mets management and veteran players, Cone declared his journalism career was over.

The series was tied 1–1 and headed to New York.

To read an excerpt from Game 1 of the 1988 NLCS, click here.

To order your copy of Miracle Men, click here.

Miracle Men excerpt: Game 1, 1988 NLCS -- Mets at Dodgers

2013-10-11T01:00:00.000-07:00

This is an excerpt from my recent book: "Miracle Men: Hershiser, Gibson and the Improbable '88 Dodgers" that is available to order here, here or at most major bookstores.

Chapter 15

NLCS

Tuesday, October 4, 1988

Los Angeles

Mets vs. Dodgers

NLCS Game 1

The space shuttle Discovery returned to earth, landing at Edwards Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert, and welcomed by more than 400,000 exuberant witnesses that included vice president George Bush. A NASA physician boarded the space plane, giving checkups to astronauts Frederick H. Hauck, Richard O. Covey, John M. Lounge, George D. Nelson, and David C. Hilmers. They exited the plane waving American flags. It was the first mission since the Challenger disaster 33 months earlier.

One-hundred fourteen miles to the south, doctors and trainers were checking on Kirk Gibson, as well. Gibson started six of the Dodgers’ final 14 regular season games. Part of this was because the Dodgers had a big lead and they could afford to rest him. The bigger reason was his body—in particular, a pulled hamstring and sore knee—needed time to heal.

Gibson had run hard once in the last two weeks. He couldn’t walk for two days afterward. It was the worst he’d felt all season. The hamstring was bothering him. But now his knee was killing him. Gibson thought he’d have to throttle down a little, if that was possible. He didn’t want to end up crippled. But he knew one thing.

“I will be in the lineup,” Gibson said. “I will be in the fucking lineup.”

Gibson didn’t fill out the lineup, though. Tommy Lasorda did. One factor would determine if Lasorda would start Gibson in Game 1 of the NLCS against the Mets.

“If he’s breathing,” Lasorda said, “he’s in there.”

The Mets won the season series—10-of-11 games—by a combined score of 49–18. One scout told the Philadelphia Inquirer the Mets should win in four games, all by the score of 10–0. But the Dodgers had Orel Hershiser. He would start Game 1, Game 4, and Game 7 if necessary. Hershiser not only couldn’t lose, he couldn’t give up a run. That made his starts crucial.

“If we beat Orel in the first game,” Mets first baseman Keith Hernandez said, “we’ll be in great shape. He has to win for them.”

One area the Dodgers knew they could exploit was on the bases. The only Mets pitcher who held runners on effectively was Ron Darling. Catcher Gary Carter struggled throwing out runners for three years.

Photo courtesy of LA Times

“That was the whole plan, really,” second baseman Steve Sax reflected. “Disrupt their staff. We wanted to do anything we could on the base paths to cause disruption. Anything we could do to throw them off-kilter.”

In the first inning of Game 1, Sax took advantage. He singled off Dwight Gooden, immediately stole second base, and went to third on Gibson’s grounder to the right side. Mike Marshall stroked a single to right field, and the Dodgers led 1–0.

That’s all Orel Hershiser needed, especially in the twilight with a 5:20 pm Pacific start, right?

Sure seemed like it. In the seventh, Mike Scioscia doubled, Jeff Hamilton grounded out, and Alfredo Griffin singled home a run. It was 2–0. Now it was really over, right?

Hershiser took a shutout into the ninth inning. The scoreless streak didn’t officially extend into the playoffs, but it was now at 67 innings. He’d allowed five hits, one walk, and struck out six so far in Game 1. He’d retired seven batters in a row, faced four batters over the minimum, and only twice had a Mets base runner reached third base. His pitch count was at 90.

Gregg Jefferies had just turned 21 years old, had one month of big-league experience, and had somehow lived up to the enormous hype since he was named Minor League Player of the Year. He referred to the pitcher on the mound as “Mr. Hershiser.” Jefferies was respectful but hardly intimidated.

Too young to realize what was going on, Jefferies did what most of the National League couldn’t do—rake Hershiser. Jefferies singled in the first, singled in the sixth, and started the ninth inning with a clean single up the middle.

On the first pitch to Keith Hernandez, Mets manager Davey Johnson put on the hit-and-run, and Hernandez hit a hard grounder to first. Hernandez was out, and Jefferies advanced to second.

Jefferies didn’t realize the ball was fair, though. He wandered off the base. Dodgers shortstop Alfredo Griffin slipped behind Jefferies and called for the ball, begged for the ball, but Franklin Stubbs didn’t realize the opportunity. The Mets screamed from the first-base dugout at Jefferies, and he got back to second base safely.

Months later, Hershiser would still taste the situation—two outs, nobody on base. Instead, a runner at second base, one out, and cleanup batter Darryl Strawberry at the plate.

With the count 2–2, Strawberry fouled off two pitches. Lasorda paced in the Dodgers’ dugout. The Mets wore their hats backward for a rally. Hershiser hung a curveball, but Strawberry was too eager to cream it. He nearly jumped off the ground, and he fouled it back. Hershiser came back with another curveball. This one had better spin, a better release. But he threw it too hard, not enough snap. Another hanging curve.

Strawberry smashed it into center field for a double. It was 2–1.

Hershiser had allowed a run, his first since August 30. He was human, after all. Hershiser was furious at himself for hanging two straight curveballs to Strawberry. His mind shifted to the next hitter, Kevin McReynolds, and closing out the victory. Then he saw pitching coach Ron Perranoski talking to the umpire. It took a moment to register what was happening.

Incredibly, Hershiser was being taken out of the game on a double switch. By the time Perranoski reached the mound, the move was made. Hershiser couldn’t plead his case, couldn’t talk his way into staying in the game. Jay Howell was coming into the game.

Howell pitched around McReynolds and walked him. Howell struck out Howard Johnson for the second out. Howell jumped ahead of Gary Carter with two curveballs. The crowd was on its feet, one strike from victory.

On the ABC telecast, analyst Tim McCarver said the Dodgers’ outfield was playing too deep for Gary Carter. “They’re playing the Gary Carter of five years ago,” McCarver said.

Howell snapped off another curve, low and away. Carter reached his bat outside, feebly, and barely made contact. The bat was broken. It was a blooper into shallow center field.

John Shelby was playing deep, preventing a double that would score two runs. Shelby got a decent jump, charged at full speed, and thought he would catch it. He dove for the ball.

The ball was ever so briefly inside Shelby’s glove, came out at impact with the ground, and rolled behind him.

“When the ball was hit, I ran in, and my first thought was that I wouldn’t need to dive,” Shelby reflected. “Then I realized I did need to dive. I actually got to the ball quicker than I thought. I actually extended too far. The ball hit me in the wrist. It handcuffed me.”

Strawberry scored easily. McReynolds was running with two outs and charging home. Shelby double-clutched before throwing home. Scioscia blocked the plate. McReynolds ran him over. The throw was way late. McReynolds scored the go- ahead run. It was 3–2 Mets.

Photo courtesy of LA Dodgers

“That was very devastating to me,” Shelby said. “But it wasn’t enough that it was going to affect me the rest of the series. I took a lot of pride in my defense. I would have felt worse if I had let the ball drop in and never tried to catch it. Anytime I try something, I never have second thoughts. If I never try, then I’ll second-guess myself the rest of my life.”

Randy Myers pitched the bottom of the ninth for the Mets. Seven pitches later, the game was over. The unthinkable had occurred. Hershiser had allowed a run. Hershiser was lifted. Hershiser started, and the Dodgers didn’t win.

Grilled by reporters, Lasorda said that Hershiser “definitely” was tired, referred to the hard-hit balls by Jefferies and Hernandez and the hanging curves to Strawberry.

Hershiser defended the decision, agreeing it was the right move. But he was adamant that he was not tired. Not in that game specifically. Not overall from a long season and all those scoreless innings.

Back at home, Hershiser couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sit still. He was still angry, at himself, for those two hanging curveballs. It took Hershiser four hours to fall asleep.

“It’s not your fault, honey,” Jamie told her husband.

“Yes, it is.”

Comparing the 1988 Dodgers to the 2013 Dodgers

2013-10-07T13:59:00.000-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

Anytime the Dodgers reach the playoffs, it's natural to compare that team to the last Dodgers team to win the World Series.

Since this is the 25th anniversary of the 1988 team, and I wrote a book about that season, I've been getting a lot of questions about those natural comparisons.

The short response is those teams are totally different. The 2013 team was built on star power at every position and the highest payroll in baseball. The 1988 team rode the arm of ace Orel Hershiser, the fire and clutch hits of Kirk Gibson, and a cast of role players to hoist the championship trophy into the air.

However, a closer examination reveals there are some parallels.

Building the rosters

In 1988, general manager Fred Claire utilized free agency for the first time in a decade. Claire wasn't able to lure reliever Dave Righetti or third baseman Gary Gaetti to Los Angeles. However, Claire did sign outfielder Mike Davis, pitcher Don Sutton, veteran catcher Rick Dempsey, and most importantly, swooped in to sign Kirk Gibson after an arbitrator ruled him a free agent based on collusion by owners.

Davis and Sutton were busts. Dempsey helped as a backup to Mike Scioscia. It was Gibson, of course, who lit the fire from the first game of spring training (the famous Eye Black story) and hit the most dramatic home run in World Series history in Game 1.

It was trades that Claire made that were the real difference. Claire obtained shortstop Alfredo Griffin to stabilize the infield, closer Jay Howell and lefty reliever Jesse Orosco as part of a three-team trade with the Mets and Athletics. Separate trades a year earlier netted center fielder John Shelby from the Orioles (for Tom Niedenfuer) and starting pitcher Tim Belcher from the A's (for Rick Honeycutt). A still-controversial mid-August trade that sent Pedro Guerrero to the Cardinals for John Tudor landed another arm, albeit an arm that was hanging by a thread and would have minimal impact in October.

For the 2013 team, signing starting pitchers Zack Greinke made a huge impact on the starting rotation. The international signings of free agents Hyun-jin Ryu and outfielder Yasiel Puig were very significant.

However, it was trades that current general manager Ned Colletti made that were the heart of the roster -- obtaining shortstop Hanley Ramirez from the Marlins, plus the blockbuster deal with the Red Sox that landed first baseman Adrian Gonzalez, left fielder Carl Crawford and pitcher Josh Beckett. Then this year, the early-July trade that netted starting pitcher Ricky Nolasco stabilized this year's starting rotation.

Invigorating the fan base

Not much was expected from the 1988 team. They were predicted to finish third or fourth by most magazines.

The Dodgers went 73-89 in the two previous teams. Attendance was down. The Lakers had become the biggest team in town. The minors were no longer producing everyday players. Tommy Lasorda was in the final year of his contract as manager.

General manager Fred Claire was given no long-term assurances by owner Peter O'Malley after his sudden promotion following the firing of Al Campanis for his insensitive racists remarks on Nightline a year before.

The success of the 1988 team, not to mention the dramatic way they won so many games in the regular season and playoffs, inspired the City of Angels to fall back in love with the Dodgers. It cemented the Hall of Fame legacy of Lasorda and he remained the manager until health problems forced him to retire in 1996.

The 2013 team was rebuilt after the divorce of former owners Frank and Jamie McCourt, then the subsequent bankruptcy, caused shame on the franchise and the fan base staged an unofficial boycott. The new ownership group, Guggenheim Partners, were re-building the brand by spending large sums of money on players and improving the stadium.

In both cases, the team was near rock-bottom and desperately needed new ideas, new players, and spending money to energize the franchise.

Overcoming injuries

The reason the Mickey Hatcher-led "Stuntmen" had such an impact on the 1988 team was the injuries that forced them into the lineup.

Fernando Valenzuela, the ace and icon of the team throughout the decade, missed the last two months of the season and the playoffs. Guerrero missed large chunks of the season with a neck injury before his trade. Griffin's broken hand forced Dave Anderson into the lineup at shortstop. Gibson's multiple injuries in September and October put Hatcher in the lineup. When Sutton was released in late July, it prompted the promotion of star pitching prospect Ramon Martinez.

Likewise, the 2013 team was so ravaged by injuries, it nearly led to manager Don Mattingly getting fired in June. But those injuries also created opportunities. Most notably, Matt Kemp's injuries prompted the Dodgers to promote Puig from double-A to ignite the team and fans.

The role-players from 2013 -- such as Nick Punto, Skip Schumaker and Scott Van Slyke -- don't get much publicity. They don't have a cool nickname like Stuntmen. Their underrated efforts are similar to what Anderson, Franklin Stubbs and Jeff Hamilton did in 1988.

Riding the horse

The Dodgers decision to start Clayton Kershaw on three-days rest, even with a 2-1 lead in the best-of-5 series, surprised a number of people. The history of pitchers starting on three-days rest over the past decade isn't very successful.

Back in 1988, it was a given that Hershiser would start on three-days rest. Hershiser did it four times in the regular season. All of his postseason starts, except the first, were on three-days rest. Hershiser even pitched in relief on zero-days rest to get the save in Game 4 of the NLCS.

If the Dodgers ride the arm of Kershaw to win the World Series, pitching him whenever possible and often on short rest, that will be the biggest similarity between the two teams.

However, don't forget the long-term impact that 1988 had on Hershiser. He threw a ton of innings that year, a ton more in 1989, then underwent massive reconstructive surgery early in 1990.

Order your copy of Miracle Men here

The story behind Nick "Chili" Buss

2013-09-14T17:51:00.005-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

The Dodgers call him Nick Buss.

The Isotopes call him Chili Buss.

They're both right.

The name on the birth certificate is Nicholas Chili Buss. His dad always wanted unique middle names for his kids. The first three kids had normal middle names. Nick was the last chance for something different. His dad once played in a charity golf tournament with former major leaguer Chili Davis and always liked the name Chili.

So that's how he got the middle name.

Nick Buss always went by Nick, until his junior year of college at USC. He ordered an internet connection for his apartment, when his roommates discovered his middle name was Chili. They loved the name and started calling him Chili.

The rest of the time on the baseball field at USC, teammates and coaches called him Chili.

When he got to professional baseball, the nickname remained among Dodgers staff and teammates in the minor leagues.

Last year at Double-A Chattanooga, hitting coach Franklin Stubbs called him Chili all year, not knowing that was simply his middle name. Everybody just assumed it was a nickname.

This year -- before the Isotopes game on Tuesday, April 23 against Oklahoma City -- Isotopes general manager John Traub asked Buss if he wanted to be referred as Chili over the public address system, in game notes, and on the radio broadcast.

Buss, who hates drawing any attention to himself, replied, "sure."

My scorebook from the first game we called him Chili.

That was the 19th game of the season. At the time, Buss was hitting .295 with four home runs and 12 RBIs. He was in a 2-for-19 slump at the time, the two hits being a home run and bunt single.

In the first game -- when I referred to him as "the baseball player formerly known as Nick Buss" -- Chili went 2-for-4 with three runs scored. The next day, Chili went 2-for-4 with a walk and three more runs scored at Round Rock.

We called him Chili the rest of the season.

Around the All-Star break, I asked Buss what it was like going by Chili the last three months. Buss said it was great, except that at least 2-3 times a game, somebody on the field -- an umpire, a coach, a fan, an opposing player -- would ask what's the story behind his name and it got annoying constantly telling the story again.

I told Buss that people ask me the same question too, so I'm probably saving him another 2-3 times telling the story every day.

So now that Nick Chili Buss has been called up to the majors for the first time, figured I'd document the story one more time, and hopefully save Buss a few more times explaining the story.

How to win your Survivor Pool, the 2013 edition

2013-09-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

This is my second annual post on how to win your Survivor Pool, aka an Eliminator Pool, or World's Simplest Pool, or Last Man Standing Pool.

The basic rules of the Pool: you pick one NFL game each week, point spreads don’t matter. If you win, you advance to the next week. If you lose, you’re done. In most of these pools, once you pick a team once, you can’t pick them again. I’m in a pool where you can pick the same team three times. I don’t like that rule, but I’m not the Commissioner. But in most pools, you can only pick a team once.

Follow my advice and you've got a good shot at winning your Survivor Pool.

1. Never save a pick for later in the season. Depending on the participants in your pool, very few last 17 weeks. A lot of them don’t last 10 weeks. Don’t plan ahead. It’s all about winning each week. Don’t save New England for Week 5. Tom Brady can blow out a knee in Week 3 and you wouldn’t want to take the Patriots in Week 5 if Brady isn't starting.

2. Look at the point spread to decide on your candidates. The oddsmakers in Vegas are the smartest people in the room. No matter how much you think you know about football, the oddsmakers know more. Look at the five biggest point spreads each week. You should be picking one of those five teams. That team doesn’t have to cover. They just have to win. It goes without saying you shouldn’t ever take an underdog.

3. Take the home team on Thursday night games, if the visiting team is in a short week. Road teams face a massive challenge. Play a game on Sunday, heal on Monday, prepare on Tuesday, fly on Wednesday, and play on Thursday. Unless the visiting team is dramatically better, and it’s a short flight (like Oakland to San Diego), take the home team. Not only will they win, they will win easily. If a team is traveling three time zones on a short week, they’re toast. Note: this does not apply in Week 1. Teams aren’t in their usual routine yet.

4. Avoid taking the road team in general. The deeper you get into your Survivor Pool, you might have to break this rule. This rule can be broken in extreme circumstances, like a 9-1 team playing on the road against a 1-9 team. Even then, I get nervous. The double-extra detail on this rule is don’t ever take an East Coast team playing on the West Coast. Recent studies on the effect of time-zone change on a body suggest it’s harder to go West and perform at an optimal level than it is to travel East.

5. Ride the worst team(s) in the league. Once you get to around Week 5-6, it’s clear which teams are the worst. You can’t pick the best team to win every week. But you can pick the worst team to lose every week. Personally, I get nervous taking a winless team, like an 0-7, because they have so much pride, they’ll try extra hard to avoid the embarrassment of a winless season. But once they’ve lost, I love riding the opponent of that hopeless team week after week.

6. Don’t pick a team with a rookie quarterback in September. Most of the time, a rookie will only start at quarterback if the team was lousy the year before, so this is usually a moot point. But it’s such a huge adjustment from college to the NFL, it’s hard to win. The deeper you get into the season, say October, then it’s not as risky to pick a team with a rookie quarterback. The secondary rule is be wary of picking against the rookie quarterback early in the year. We just don’t know how the rookies will respond. Be patient.

7. Avoid rivalry games. You know that cliché “throw out the records” when these rivals meet? Remember it. Avoid a Giants-Cowboys, or Raiders-Chiefs, or any other type of strong rivalry game. Crazy things happen when rivals meet.

8. Never select a team that’s using a backup quarterback. It’s the most important position on the field, and affects the outcome more than any other. If the starter is definitely out, don’t select that team. If the quarterback is doubtful or even questionable, avoid that team if possible. You’re only picking one game a week, you can find a healthy quarterback.

9. Don't use the same team on multiple entries. I'm actually not a fan of multiple entries in Survivor Pools. If you do it, then you start thinking about the two best locks, instead of just one lock. Now you have to be correct twice each week. I know a lot of people use multiple entries. I know a lot of people used both picks on the New England Patriots in Week 2 last year -- and lost both. If you are going to double-up on multiple entries, only do it late in the season when you're options are thin.

10. Don't brag about your expertise in making picks. Stay humble. The NFL Survivor Gods don't like it when you act like you have this game figured out. Put another way, don't write a blog post pretending like you have all the answers.

11. Don't make your decision when you're drunk. If it's Saturday night and you still haven't decided your pick, it's OK to discuss this with your friends over drinks. It's a great topic. Just don't send in your pick when you're drunk. Wait until the next morning and make sure it's still a good idea.

12. Don't change your mind. Once your pick is in, never second-guess yourself. Don't change your pick. Ever.

13. Don’t take your favorite to win or lose. You have enough emotions going through your body when your favorite team plays. Don’t compound that anxiety by picking them to win, and don’t do something that will make you feel OK about your favorite team losing. Not to mention, you’re not very objective about your favorite team. They’re not as good as you think they are. They’re not as bad as you think they are. Just avoid your team.

13b. Unless your favorite team is the Raiders, they're on the road in Week 1, using a questionable quarterback, against a solid team, facing a huge point spread, and notorious for playing terrible in Week 1. Raider Nation kicked me out for making this pick. I'm counting on the Nation forgetting this by Week 2. If I lose in Week 1, it's the most deserved loss ever, and it's proof this should be always be Rule #1 forever and ever.

14. If you win, tip the Commissioner. It's hard work being a Commissioner. It's very time consuming. Depending on the size of your pool, it should be between 5-15 percent.

15. Don’t save a pick. Can’t stress this enough. That’s why it’s listed twice. Don’t. Ever. Save. A. Pick.

Most of the time, you can’t follow all 15 of these rules. You want to follow as many of these as possible each week.

When it comes to Week 1, know in advance that it’s the hardest week. It’s the most unpredictable week. There’s not much information you can use. Don’t get fooled by exhibition game results. When in doubt, follow the rules to eliminate potential obstacles.

Good luck in your Survivor Pool.

And, don’t forget, never save a pick.

Ever.

40 Before 40 -- what I did instead

2013-08-27T01:00:00.000-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

My original "40 before 40" list turned into a colossal failure. I only accomplished eight of the 40 items.

The failure can mostly be contributed to putting a bunch of ridiculous items on the list, taking a new job that cancelled a trip to Hawaii that was going to check off numerous items, and moving to another state where a lot of the items were no longer feasible.

Instead of being depressed at what I didn't complete, here's my list of 40 things that I accomplished instead.

The lesson is that while making goals and planning is helpful, life is best when you're spontaneous and just experience what's around you ... or when you just go through your iPhone, just start picking random photos, and declare that it's something you accomplished.

1. Got stranded on the side of the road, during a wine trip to Santa Barbara, when our bus broke down. Fortunately, my friends don't blink an eye. We just crack open beers on the side of the road, and watch the girls get cars to honk as they ask for a ride. The bus cooled off, the driver got us to the next winery, we got a new bus, we kept wine tasting. You haven't lived until you've rode home on a wine bus, music blasting, all the girls dancing in the aisles, and a view o the sunset on the Pacific Ocean out the side of the window.

2. Discovered where the "Melrose Place" apartment was located. Turns out, it was less than a mile from my old apartment in LA.

3. Lucked into New Balance making shoes with my name stitched into the back. The perks of working the Area Code Games for ESPN3.

4. Saw the Space Shuttle Endeavour fly over the Griffith Observatory. It only took about a hundred photos to get this shot. Thank goodness for digital pictures that can be easily erased.

5. Attended the Poinsettia Bowl with a whole bunch of former Daily Aztec sportswriters. No need to discuss what happened in the game. Eff BYU. We're a basketball school now.

6. Spent a day as an extra on a movie. This was more boring than fun. But there was so much sitting around, I was able to proof almost half of my book. What was really sad is how many people do this for a living, or try to do this for a living. I can't even remember the name of this movie, so I can't look for myself. I think it was just a trailer anyway. I did gain a lot of respect for how tedious making a movie can be, and why it's so easy for goofs on continuity. I even got paid for it.

7. Celebrated the New Year with great friends and tasty beverages. Yep, wore that ridiculous hat.

8. Published my second book. Perhaps you heard, from one of the thousand posts I did on Facebook/Twitter to promote it? Thanks to all who bought a copy. For those who didn't, the book will make a great Christmas gift.

9. Hiked to the "Bridge to Nowhere" in the San Gabriel Mountains. This was a little shorter than Mt. Baldy, but every bit as interesting. That guy in the blue shirt with his arms up in the air is my hiking amigo, Josh Cumming, who suggested the trip. A great excursion.

10. Was the guest of honor at a press conference ... for me. How surreal. A very nice gesture by the Albuquerque Isotopes to welcome me into town with a press conference. Even my aunt Janet was able to attend.

11. Played whiffle ball on the Venice Beach, at Sunset, during my going-away party. Thanks to all who showed up. A bigger thanks to those who played whiffle ball with me. The biggest thanks to Sean Maddison for taking this super cool photo.

12. Was faced with this decision and didn't make a U-turn. I definitely miss Los Angeles. I ended up loving it way more than I thought. But the job in Albuquerque was too good to pass up. Seeing this sign made me laugh as I drove to New Mexico.

13. Went inside a humidor that's used to store baseballs. The high altitude in Albuquerque means that baseballs travel much further. In order to try combating this, the Isotopes installed the humidor in 2013. By keeping the baseballs in a controlled environment, they don't dry up or shrink. As a result, they don't travel as far. In theory.

14. Saw not just any Bon Jovi concert, but a concert inside the Arena where Jon Bon Jovi has a retired uniform. This was in Des Moines. Bon Jovi used to be a part-owner of the Arena Football Team in Des Moines. That's why his name hangs from the rafters. Very convenient Sunday day game in Des Moines allowed me to catch the concert that night from the rafters.

15. Got my picture taken with Tabitha Soren. Because who could ever forget when she moderated a "Choose or Lose" program on MTV, and one of the college students asked then-candidate Bill Clinton, "the world is dying to know -- boxers or briefs?"

16. Re-united with Daily Aztec alums Ferris Shahrestani and Gregg Lewis for beers in Round Rock. Because when we were students in San Diego, we vowed that we'd all end up in Round Rock, Texas.

17. Interviewed my former Dodger Talk co-host, Ken Levine, about the Simpson's episode he wrote that inspired the name of the baseball team that now employs me -- with Homer Simpson listening. The ultimate example of life imitating art, and life coming full circle. Super cool that Ken came out to Albuquerque, saw the ballpark, and joined me on the radio. Great times.

18. Got the worst haircut of my life that made me so embarrassed, I bought this ridiculous hat. The reaction I got in the clubhouse from the players was priceless.

19. Visited the Civil Rights Museum and Lorraine Motel. Highly recommend if you ever find yourself in Memphis. So is the Sun Studio, where Elvis Presley and others got their start. Disappointed in myself for not going to Graceland. Next time.

20. Watched the College World Series from a bar across the street from the College World Series in Omaha. I didn't care enough for the teams to buy tickets. I was close enough. Cool atmosphere.

21. Visited the National Museum where the Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed. Shed a few tears. Maybe a few more than a few tears. Emotional place. Very well presented.

22. Walked through the corn from the "Field of Dreams" movie site. Highlight of my tourist-related excursions during the season. Well worth the six-hour, round-trip drive -- even if I was exhausted for that night's game. Still get goosebumps thinking about it. Quite a special place, even after all these years. Bought a "wanna have a catch Dad" t-shirt for my old man. Can't beat that.

23. Broadcasted live on the radio during a monsoon. This was crazy. Lucky that nobody got hurt from our grounds crew and front office.

24. Visited the Jack Daniel's Distillery in Lynchburg, Tenn. Did you know it's located in a dry county? They make all the Jack there, but you can't buy it in town. You can buy special limited edition bottles at the distillery. Snagged me a bottle of the "single barrel" whiskey. Haven't decided when I'll drink it. Waiting for a special occasion … or when I'm too lazy to go buy something else.

25. Took a picture of a mermaid swimming above a bar. Yep. I couldn't make this up if I tried. In case you want to do it yourself, the bar is called "Dive" and it's in Sacramento.

26. Did a book signing at Barnes & Noble in Albuquerque. Where more than one person showed up. Honest.

27. Did a book signing at Barnes & Noble in Huntington Beach. Where more than two college friends showed up. Honest.

28. Did a book signing at Dodger Stadium. Where somebody showed up wearing an Isotopes hat. Yep.

29. Signed a copy of my book to Vin Scully. My hand was trembling. Definitely the highlight of all the books I ever sold, signed or gave away. Wow.

30. Did I mention that I wrote a book and shamelessly took photos with a bunch of people from the book? Nahhh, not yet.

31. Helped break into my friend's locked office so he could show me this picture. Because if you're climbing through the ceiling in the office of the Las Vegas public defender's office, it better be for an autographed photo of a shirtless photo of Jose Canseco and his ex-wife Esther.

32. Got food poisoning in Fresno ... and discovered the greatest product to help with dehydration. Seriously, these brought me back from what felt like the brink of death. It's called Pedialyte. It's intended for kids. It's also great for adults who are dehydrated from playing baseball in the high altitude, or broadcasters who get food poisoning. A note for the future: not that I've ever been hungover in my life. But should that day ever occur, it's a little known fact there's some magical electrolytes in these packets.

33. Snagged a copy of the greatest bobblehead ever. This is the legendary Johnny Doskow, radio announcer for the Sacramento Rivercats. He's got a big nose. He's got a receding hairline. This bobblehead captured both beautifully. Brilliant.

34. Found my biggest fan and got an autographed baseball card of him. Aiden's dad contacted me and they joined me in the booth for a few innings. Aiden wore the headphones and watched the game next to me. He departed by giving him his autograph. Hopefully, the kid waits a few years before taking my job.

35. Snuck onto the Vanderbilt football field and took a few photos. Because, you know, they have such a great history of winning football games.

36. Interviewed the great Rickey Henderson for the pre-game show. Even told him that on my ninth birthday, in 1982, he broke the single-season record for most stolen bases in a season.

37. Birdied the first seven holes in a round of golf. Sure, it was Golden Tee, but I don't care. That's still hard to do. Pretty sure my final round was about 10 under par. Best round of my life.

38. Vastly improved my fancy socks collection. Because a day without color-coordinated fancy socks is a boring day.

39. Found somebody from Pleasanton who has recently moved to Albuquerque too. A hearty welcome to Kim Hansen (now Kim Smith). Her husband is an assistant coach for the New Mexico Lobos men's basketball team, better known as the school the Aztecs will defeat this year en route to another league title.

40. Got the map on my iPhone for places where I've taken photos to look like this. Now I need to add a bunch of red pins in more countries.

40 before 40, the checklist

2013-08-26T23:57:00.000-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

One year later, it's time to re-visit the "40 before 40" list that I created last year. The sad truth is I didn't come close to completing all 40 items. In fact, I only did eight of them. That's a .200 batting average, and you'll get released for that kind of production in baseball.

Most of it can be blamed on a massive life change, moving to Albuquerque, NM for a new job. That forced me to cancel a trip to Hawaii that was supposed to check off numerous items on the list. However, the new job provided an opportunity to see a lot of things that I'd have never otherwise experienced.

Since I'm neurotically addicted to lists, and categories for lists, here's a list of what I wanted to do, what I accomplished, what I neglected, and why.

What I did accomplish (8)

1. Watch a movie in the Hollywood Cemetery. This was fun. One of the first things I did. Special thanks to Emilie and Ty for inviting me. I took a date. She lived in Santa Monica. Upon making the trek across LA, she told me that I was "geographically undesirable." It was the last time I ever saw her.

2. See my mom's house in Reno. Saw her for Christmas. It even snowed. A white Christmas. Awesome.

3. Sit in "The Show" (the San Diego State student section) for an Aztecs men's basketball game. Did this for a road game at USC. Most fun I've ever experienced at a sporting event. It flat-out ruled. Hope to do this again one day, preferably at SDSU.

4. Build my Twitter following to 1,000. I was at 456 at the time. Did you know that you can buy Twitter followers? I bought 1,000 as an experiment, then another 1,000 as a second experiment from a different company. They aren't real accounts, so they slowly go away. I'm at 1,802 now. I have no idea how many are real and how many are fake. I no longer care. I actually get creeped out by a few of my followers.

5. Write a blog post that gets 5,000 hits. Apparently, a lot of people want to know why Al Davis feuded with Marcus Allen. At last count, that entry was at 8,126 hits. The original "40 for 40" list was at 5,609 hits.

6. No red meat for 365 days. This became very difficult, but I did it. There were a couple asterisks. Does salami count as red meat? As some friends pointed out, it is red. I thought it was pork. Put it this way, I didn't have a hamburger, a steak, carne asada, or anything similar for a year. This is incredibly difficult in minor league baseball. I starved a few times because there was no food options in the press box other than red meat. I'm going back to eating red meat now. I actually don't miss red meat. It's just the hassle of avoiding it that's such a pain.

7. Adopt something. Turns out, you can't just write a check and adopt a highway. So much for that idea. Instead, I adopted a soldier defending our freedom. I sent him supplies. It's a really cool program. We exchanged letters, although my dream of having a pen pal relationship with somebody in the Middle East didn't materialize. I highly recommend you do this too. All the info can be found at http://www.adoptaussoldier.org

8. Pick something else to add to this list in the next 364 days. This was easy. I did some damn cool things that makes me proud. The full breakdown will come with tomorrow's list of the 40 things I did instead.

What I didn't accomplish, but I will soon (9)

1. Camp in the Grand Canyon and/or go white water rafting down the Grand Canyon. This gets carried over to the life-long bucket list. I'll eventually do this.

2. Eat the worm in a tequila bottle. I bought the Tequila bottle with the worm, but never opened it. Alas, coming up soon I've got a bachelor party in Vegas, a wedding in SoCal, a football weekend in Texas, and seven months without baseball. I'll work on this.

3. Learn how to edit on Final Cut Pro. Almost got a job that would require this. I lied to get to the finals. Took a one-hour crash class to learn the basics. Didn't get the job and quite glad. My new job is way better and what I want to be doing. I still want to do this.

4. Headstand in the middle of the room and stay for a minute. I like my neck. I really do. I'm content doing headstands up against the wall, where I know my neck won't break. Much safer. Maybe I'll do this eventually. Maybe.

5. Hot air balloon ride, or zipline, or bungee jump. New Mexico is known for hot air balloon rides. There's a festival coming up soon. I'll be there and do this thing.

6. Solve a Rubik's cube. I bought the cube. I tried it without manuals. I tried it after watching how-to videos on YouTube. I'd get one side pretty easily. I'd get close to a second side, then it would all fall apart. I gave up. But I'll try this again.

7. Attend a Cirque de Soleil show. I did attend a show, while our team was in Las Vegas on a road trip. It was called "Pin Up." My college friend Jon Gitt got us free tickets. It wasn't as naughty as they want you to believe. It was pretty good. Nothing special. I'll attend a Cirque de Soleil show one day.

8. Say the phrase "quick, follow that car!" for a justifiable reason. I will eventually do this.

9. Serve soup at a homeless kitchen. I suck.

What I didn't accomplish, mostly because of the new job (9)

1. Rent a fancy sports car and drive along the coast for a day/weekend. Not too many coasts in New Mexico.

2. Swim with dolphins. This was supposed to happen in Hawaii. Maybe another year it'll happen.

3. Do a 5K Mud Run. Ok, I know these exist everywhere and I'm sure there's one in New Mexico. But the baseball schedule makes it tough. It's something I still want to do.

4. Go skinny dipping in the ocean. This was supposed to happen in Hawaii. The water is freakin' cold in California and I don't live there anymore. Got a plan for this to possibly happen soon though.

5. Ride a helicopter somewhere special. This was supposed to happen in Hawaii. Maybe another year.

6. Hike to the top of Mt. Baldy. Came close to going there a couple times. Ended up going on cool hikes that were closer and (almost) as challenging. Maybe another year.

7. Go to a jazz concert at the Hollywood Bowl. That's a tough commute from New Mexico. Maybe another year.

8. Visit Hearst castle. This was supposed to be in connection with the fancy sports car. Neither happened. Maybe another year.

9. Walk the red carpet and attend a movie premiere. Not too many movie premieres in New Mexico. However, I did attend an advanced screening for "The Gangster Squad," a movie my college friend Will Beall wrote, before leaving LA. No red carpet. But it was before the actual premiere. Maybe this counts as a half check.

What I tried to accomplish, but it wasn't meant to be (6)

1. Pick a hockey team and learn every player on the team. I tried. I really did. Narrowed my list to five and wrote letters to each team. Four never responded. One was a pathetic response. I scrapped those five teams and somewhat picked the Montreal Canadiens. I followed them on Twitter. But most of the tweets were in French. I never watched a game. I never learned a player's name. I have no idea how they did in the playoffs. Maybe I'm just not cut out to be a hockey fan.

2. Write my will. I went to a few websites. It was more expensive than necessary. I don't have much stuff. I basically just wanted everything to go to my sister and her son.

3. Open a Swiss bank account. Turns out, you can't just put a couple hundred bucks into an account. You need a lot of money, which I don't have. I just wanted to be able to work into conversations, "I can join you on that vacation, if I dip into my Swiss Bank account." Oh well.

4. Floss every day for 365 days straight. This was really hard. I went two weeks straight and got to the point where my gums stopped bleeding. Then I was flossing about 4-5 times a week. Over the last few months, baseball season got to me, and I slacked off big time. I'll estimate that I flossed 150 days. I went through two canisters. That's more than the previous 10 years combined, so mission accomplished. I can still do better.

5. Obtain a copy of "The Sleepy Floyd Game" and it has to be the one with Greg Papa doing the play-by-play. This is incredibly difficult to find. There's a copy on YouTube of the fourth quarter, when Sleepy goes crazy scoring points against the Lakers, and you hear Papa's famous line: "Sleepy Floyd is Superman!" But finding the entire game is damn near impossible.

6. Donate blood. I tried. Twice. But they can't use my blood. It's a long story. Let's go with, "I'm too healthy."

What I didn't accomplish, because I forgot or thought it was stupid in retrospect (8)

1. Visit a psychic. Seriously, this is stupid. We all know it.

2. Paint something. Painting is stupid. We all know it.

3. Go zorbing. Zorbing is stupid. We all know it.

4. Hand out a $100 bill to a homeless person in need. Never saw the ideal situation and I don't keep Benjamins on me. The meal money we get for road trips is actually $50s, but I'm so paranoid of being robbed, I usually kept all the cash at home and just used my debit card everywhere. There's better way to help people in need, and I did.

5. Ride a Segway. Segways are stupid. We all know it.

6. Attend a murder mystery dinner. These are stupid too.

7. Sleep under the stars. In retrospect, I'm sure I've already done this. My parents took us camping damn near every weekend when I was really young. I'll do this again, but it was a stupid item for a bucket list.

8. Milk a cow. What the hell was I thinking?

Coming tomorrow: the 40 things I did instead.

How PCL realignment affects the Isotopes/Dodgers

2013-08-17T13:07:00.000-07:00

--by @Josh_Suchon

The move of the Tucson Padres to the city of El Paso prompted the Pacific Coast League to realign its four divisions for the 2014 season. The divisions will now look like this:

Pacific Northern: Fresno, Reno, Sacramento, Tacoma.

Pacific Southern: Albuquerque, El Paso, Las Vegas, Salt Lake.

American Northern: Colorado Springs, Iowa, Oklahoma City, Omaha.

American Southern: Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans, Round Rock.

The biggest impact involves the Albuquerque Isotopes and Colorado Springs switching sides of the league. The Topes moved from the "American" side to the "Pacific" side of the 16-team league.

For those not familiar with the league's format, teams play the seven teams in its conference 16 times (eight home, eight away). The eight teams on the other side of the league are played just four times (going to their city every other year).

Here's a breakdown of how the change impacts the Isotopes.

* Overall easier travel with a geographic rival in El Paso

Travel in the PCL can be brutal. It's definitely the most difficult league for traveling. Teams don't fly charter. They fly commercial, almost always the first flight in the morning, and it's rare to get a direct flight because the cities have small airports.

It's roughly 265 miles, or a three hour and 45-minute bus ride, from Isotopes Park to the new ballpark in El Paso. This affords the Topes an opportunity for a bus trip to an opponent's ballpark. Previously, the Topes would fly to all cities to begin a road trip. (Once on a trip, there were a few bus trips between cities, such as Iowa and Omaha, or Memphis and Nashville.)

While the full schedule hasn't been released, it's likely that opponents will usually take an eight-game road trip to Albuquerque and El Paso. The ability to bus between cities is dramatically cheaper, easier and greatly preferred by players/staff. This will help out everyone.

For the Topes, there will be a few more direct flights -- such as Vegas. Even for the connecting flights, the total distance will be shorter and more manageable.

* More games against the Dodgers' primary rivals

The Topes will now play 16 games against the Giants (Fresno), Diamondbacks (Reno), Padres (El Paso) and Angels (Salt Lake) affiliates. Previously, they only played those teams four times.

The large number of blue-wearing fans on the Topes' recent California road trip to Sacramento and Fresno are an illustration this is great for attendance -- and much easier for Socal-based fans to see the Dodgers' top affiliate on the road.

Albuquerque is primarily a Dodgers town. But there's also a fair number of Diamondbacks fans as well. The Topes should draw more fans eager to see a Dodgers-Giants or Dodgers-D'backs matchup.

* Dodgers get more convenience for call-ups, rehab assignments and scouting

When a player gets called up to Los Angeles, or elsewhere in the NL West, it will be easier physically getting the player to that city. There will always be times when the major league team and the Triple-A affiliate are 2-3 time zones apart. But there's a far greater likelihood now that a player will be closer to wherever the Dodgers happen to be playing.

The Dodgers send most of their rehabbing players, especially pitchers, to Single-A Rancho Cucamonga because it's a 90-minute drive (if there's no traffic). That will probably continue to be the trend. But the team actually prefers the better competition at Triple-A. The Dodgers are more likely to send a rehabbing player to Reno or Las Vegas, rather than Round Rock or New Orleans, if the Topes are on a road trip.

If the Giants call up a pitcher from Fresno to make a spot start against the Dodgers, the Isotopes previously wouldn't be able to give much of a scouting report because the teams only played each other four times. Now, all the NL West teams (except Colorado) will have their Triple-A teams playing each other way more often and minor league scouting reports can be more helpful.

* It returns Albuquerque to its PCL roots.

From 1969 to 1997, three Triple-A leagues existed and the Albuquerque Dukes were long-time members of the Pacific Coast League (from 1972-2000). When the American Association folded in 1998, the eight teams from the league were distributed into the PCL and International Leagues.

When baseball returned to Albuquerque in 2003, after a two-year hiatus, the newly-named Isotopes were placed with almost entirely old American Association teams (such as Omaha, Iowa, Oklahoma City and Nashville.)

While there's no longer than many teams truly near the Pacific Ocean, the Topes will now go back to playing more games against teams with roots in the PCL -- and in the Pacific Time Zone. This also means the majority of the team's road games will start at 8:05 Mountain Time, instead of 6:05 pm.

* Less glamorous cities, but two trips to Vegas

Just mention two trips to Las Vegas, and Dodgers prospects will immediately like the move. No further discussion needed.

In truth, when you compare the cities, those on the "American" side are more glamorous. You've got New Orleans and Nashville, although the glamour is mitigated by hotels near the airport that are a long distance from the "fun" places in town -- and the ballparks aren't impressive, either.

Des Moines and Oklahoma City are underrate towns, which players enjoy because they have good hotels that are a short walk from the ballpark, and lots of eating options nearby. The atmosphere is great at those ballparks. Memphis has a fabulous ballpark and tons to do nearby, all walkable. Those will be greatly missed.

Round Rock is a great ballpark that is usually filled, but located in the middle of nowhere. The Omaha team is actually located in Papillion, 22 miles west, and there's nothing in that city. Those won't be missed.

* The ERA for pitchers will likely increase

The two biggest pitchers parks in the PCL, by far, are New Orleans and Memphis. Ballparks that are considered "fair" for hitters and pitchers are Iowa, Omaha, Nashville, Round Rock and Oklahoma City -- although in April, cold conditions favor the pitchers in Iowa and Omaha. All seven of those cities are where the Topes used to travel most often. None are known for extreme offense.

In exchange, the team will now play eight road games in notorious hitter-friendly ballparks in Las Vegas, Reno and Salt Lake. The conditions are considered "fair" in Sacramento, Fresno and Tacoma. It remains to be seen how El Paso will play, but considering the altitude, it will probably favor the hitters.

Even with the addition of a humidor in Albuquerque in 2013, the home-road splits were pretty dramatic. Pitchers weary of the high altitude in New Mexico could catch a breather on the road, and see a drop in their ERA. There won't be as many chances for a break anymore.

Below is an excellent graphic that Baseball America posted in its analysis today.

AMERICAN CONFERENCE
Northern Division	Organization	R/G	Elevation (ft)	2013 Division
Colorado Springs	Rockies	13.45*	6,010	Pacific North
Iowa	Cubs	9.33	955	Same
Oklahoma City	Astros	9.78	1,201	American South
Omaha	Royals	10.03	1,090	Same
Southern Division	Organization	R/G	Elevation (ft)	2013 Division
Memphis	Cardinals	8.91	337	American North
Nashville	Brewers	9.02	597	American North
New Orleans	Marlins	8.35	-6.5	Same
Round Rock	Rangers	10.21	735	Same
PACIFIC CONFERENCE
Northern Division	Organization	R/G	Elevation (ft)	2013 Division
Fresno	Giants	9.89	308	Pacific South
Reno	Diamondbacks	13.32	4,505	Same
Sacramento	Athletics	9.05	30	Pacific South
Tacoma	Mariners	9.34	243	Same
Southern Division	Organization	R/G	Elevation (ft)	2013 Division
Albuquerque	Dodgers	14.17**	5,312	American South
El Paso	Padres	—	3,740	Same (as Tucson)
Las Vegas	Mets	12.81	2,001	Same
Salt Lake	Angels	11.77	4,226	Pacific North
* Rate has dropped to 11.77 through 132 games since introducing humidor in 2012
** Rate has dropped to 11.19 through 63 games since introducing humidor in 2013

My all-time favorite baseball starting lineup

2013-06-26T00:21:00.000-07:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

The blog "Baseball Trash Talkin" asked me to join them on their Podcast to talk about how I ended up in Albuquerque, Yasiel Puig, Dee Gordon and my book (duh).

They posed a fascinating question at the end: who is your all-time favorite lineup at each position? It's not meant to be the best player at each position. It's personal. Your favorite player at each position. It's a great question. It made me think quite a bit, and I love lists, so here goes my dream lineup:

Catcher -- Benito Santiago

My relationship with Benny started when I was 15 years old and the batboy for a spring training game. Benito hit two home runs that day and I high-fived him at home plate after each one. Then I covered him as a newspaper writer. It was actually embarrassing the way he always called me "my favorite reporter" and once refused speaking to others, so I could have the scoop.

The greatest prank of my life involved a story that exaggerated just how close we were. That's a story that should be told over drinks, lots of drinks, but I shared it earlier.

First base -- Lorenzo Bundy

He's my manager with the Isotopes. In three months, he's quickly rocketed up my list of all-time favorite baseball people. Great baseball mind. Greater dude. Puts up with me daily. Life of the party. He's a welcomer, not an excluder. Every manager could learn from him about how to treat people.

Second base -- Mark Ellis

If I ever have a daughter, I'd want her to marry a guy like Mark Ellis. The ultimate pro's pro. Fundamentally sound as they come. The classiest ballplayer I've ever met.

Shortstop -- Shawon Dunston

The gold standard. Still my all-time favorite athlete I ever covered. I've had conversations with him that I've never had with any other athlete, let alone other humans. I'll never forget the massive bear hug he gave me in the Cubs clubhouse one day. Other players looked at us like we were nuts. Dunston didn't miss a beat, telling his teammates, "it's not every day you see a player hug a reporter like that, huh?"

Plus, my all-time favorite photo is when his son jumped into his arms after a home run. The back story that Dunston once told me: hewasn't playing much at the time. His son asked why. It wasn't an easy conversation. Shawon's son wouldn't start him when he played video game baseball because he wasn't a starter anymore. Then after the home run, when Junior jumped into Senior's arms at home plate, he whispered, "you're still good Daddy."

Third base -- Steve Lyons

The greatest wingman I've ever met -- bar none. Nobody comes close. He taught me to dress bolder, more confidently, wearing brighter colors to stand out. Whenever I asked if I could pull off a certain look, he'd always say, "it's all in your self confidence. If you believe it, you can pull off anything." I owe lots and lots of colorful unique socks in my wardrobe to him, plus some obnoxiously bright shirts.

Not to mention, he went out of his way to make me feel welcome when I started working pre/post for the Dodgers. I've had more fun working with him on the air than any other ex-athlete. To top if off, I got his autograph as a kid.

Left field -- Rickey Henderson

My favorite player as a kid. In 1982, my parents asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I told them I wanted Rickey Henderson to break the single-season stolen base record on my birthday. Lo and behold, he did it.

Then I became a reporter, and when I told him that I was from The Oakland Tribune, he just gave me a knowing glance one day. Respect.

Center field -- Dexter Fowler

He played for the Modesto Nuts when I did play-by-play for them in 2007. I used to go shag balls during batting practice for fun. I'd stand out there in the outfield near Fowler and watched in awe at the jumps he got, the way he tracked down flyballs. Whenever I made a catch, he's flash a smile my way and put his hands together for me.

Right field -- Tony Gwynn

Signed a ton of autographs for me as a kid. Gave me the best interview ever as a clueless college newspaper reporter. Represented my college better than anybody ever -- as a basketball player, baseball player, proud alum, and now the head baseball coach.

These days, his son plays for the Isotopes and I get to say "T-Gwynn" every night on the radio. Life is pretty effin' amazing sometimes.

Designated hitter -- Dusty Baker

Dubbed me "Junior" my first day on the Giants beat in 2000. Gave me the best advice ever when I freaked out about turning 30 years old, advice that changed my outlook on life.

Accidentally ran into him outside a bar after the Giants won the 2002 NLCS, he insisted that I come inside with him and have a drink. When the crowd chanted his name, Dusty whispered into my ear, "yeah, now they love me" and giggled. He wasn't bitter. Again, he just understands human nature better than most.

Starting pitcher -- Dave Stewart

Always signed autographs for me as a kid. Dominated the American League for four years. Absolutely owned Roger Clemens' ass. When the earthquake struck in '89, Stew brought coffee and donuts to the scene of the worst destruction, and gave moral support to the workers looking for bodies still alive.

Always gave me interviews and treated me well, as a baseball executive and now agent.

Relief pitcher -- Dennis Eckersley

Whenever a relief pitcher blows off the media after a blown save and I think it's ridiculous, I can always tell the story of how Dennis Eckersley answered every question -- even the same question, over and over, for 45 minutes -- after Kirk Gibson hit that home run off him. That set the gold standard for being accountable. For Eck, it was like group therapy. How he responded, getting even better and better after what could have been a crippling career-ending home run, can't be understated. Oh yeah, and he signed a ton of autographs for me a kid.

That's my list.

What's yours?

Upcoming "Miracle Men" signings

2013-06-21T13:10:00.000-07:00

Monday, July 15 -- Barney's Beanery in Santa Monica

13513rd Street Promenade

Santa Monica, CA 90401
5-8 pm
www.barneysbeanery.com/#!santa-monica/c2ia

Come watch Major League Baseball's annual Home Run Derby, grab a bite to eat and a cold beverage, and get an autographed copy of "Miracle Men."

This will be an informal gathering of friends, work colleagues, Dodgers fans, and other baseball enthusiasts. You need not purchase a book to attend the event. Enjoy the Home Run derby with some food and drinks and good people. Or stop by briefly to get a book signed, and enjoy shopping along the Santa Monica Promenade.

Tim Leary, a starting pitcher on the 1988 Dodgers, is expected to attend the event as well.

Tuesday, July 16 -- Brent's Deli in Northridge

19655 Partenia Street
Northridge, CA 91324
11 am - 1 pm
www.brentsdeli.com

The famous deli in the San Fernando Valley is owned by long-time Dodgers fans and has always been a meeting place for Dodgers enthusiasts as well.

Author Josh Suchon will visit Brent's Deli for an afternoon signing. Grab a sandwich, utilize the free Wi-fi, stay for dessert, and get your copy of "Miracle Men" signed.

Wednesday, July 17 -- Barnes & Noble in Huntington Beach

Bella Terra
7881 Edinger Ave, #110
Huntington Beach, CA 92647
7-8 pm
http://store-locator.barnesandnoble.com/event/79933

Dodgers fans in the Southland are not left out either. On the day after the All-Star Game, author Josh Suchon will do a question-and-answer session, followed by a signing at the Barnes & Noble in Huntington Beach.

Q&A With "Miracle Men" Author, Josh Suchon

2013-04-16T08:10:00.001-07:00

By Matt Hurst

@ThrowbackAttack

It's rare that partners interview each other since they work closely together and have a good idea about what the answers are going to be.

After all, Crockett didn't interview Tubbs, Woodward didn't interview Bernstein, Batman didn't interview Robin, Mike doesn't interview Mike.

Abbott and Costello did get into a Q&A, back-and-forth, but that was only so they could truly find out who was on first.

However, as a Dodgers fan growing up and falling in love with baseball because of this miracle 1988 Dodgers team, I wanted to know more. I had helped Josh edit his book, Miracle Men, and was thrilled to be able to read his writing before nearly anyone else had.

We had talked a lot about the book — from when he first thought of the subject, to his pitch to the publishers, throughout his interviews and during the editing process — but I felt that there needed to be more known about the craft of tackling a subject 25 years in the making.

Why now? Why this team? Why you, a Bay Area native?

Find out ... then go buy Miracle Men.

Question: What first drew you to write about subject?

Answer: During the 2009 playoffs, I read Joe Posnanski’s excellent book on the 1975 Cincinnati Reds called, “The Machine.” Most of my reading came while flying back and forth to St. Louis, and then Philadelphia, on the Dodgers' charter. The book taught me so many things about the 1975 Reds that I never knew. I’d been thinking about writing another book for quite a few years, but hadn’t found the right topic. Reading that book inspired me to find another team that won a World Series and try to do the same justice that Posnanski did to the ’75 Reds.

Since I was on the Dodgers flight, and I was the co-host of Dodger Talk at the time, I naturally thought of a Dodgers championship. I originally thought of 1981. I thought the strike and finally beating the Yankees would make it compelling. I remember mentioning the idea to Josh Rawitch, who was the Vice President of Public Relations for the Dodgers at the time, as we ate lunch at Gobi on Sunset Drive one day. Rawitch told me that, incredibly, there wasn’t a definitive book on the 1988 team yet.

I knew that doing a book on the 1988 Dodgers would be interesting, and also excruciating for me, because I was such a massive A’s fan at the time. But I decided that my perspective would make it unique.

Q: This was one of LA's most beloved teams - in any sport - so were you surprised that nobody else had dug into this topic or this team?

A: Absolutely. That was why I initially thought of the 1981 season. I just figured there were a half-dozen books on that 1988 team already. My original plan was to spend the 2010 season researching and writing the book, then get it published in 2011. Well, I didn’t get around to doing anything that first year. I was too busy with my real job. Plus, I’d poked around a little with some agents/publicists and there wasn’t much interest. I didn’t want to write the book on spec and hope that somebody would publish it, or deal with self-publishing, so I actually gave up on the project for two years and pursued a few other ideas.

Q: You had a very personal side to this story, highlighted in Sports Illustrated and detailed in the book, so was the 1988 Dodgers a team you hated because of how invested you were in the A's as a kid?
A: Hate is a strong word. I hated what that Dodgers team did to my beloved Oakland A’s. I hated that I lost a lot of bets to kids at my high school. I hated that those incredible A’s teams went to three World Series, only won once, and that is overshadowed by the earthquake.

Even then, as a high school journalist, I could appreciate what an incredible story the 1988 Dodgers were. I didn’t care much for Orel Hershiser. OK, I probably hated him, if I’m being honest. Still, I recognized that Hershiser just got on this incredible roll, Gibson hit that miraculous home run, they got just enough breaks, the A’s fell apart, and a bunch of castoffs and journeymen made big plays.

I thought writing the book would be cathartic to the 15-year-old Josh. Writing the World Series chapter, and especially when I watched all those five games again, wasn’t very cathartic. The 15-year-old Josh might have yelled at the TV once or twice. But really, I’m over it. Honest.

Q: Working around the Dodgers for four seasons, how often was this team mentioned? Did all those halcyon memories from Angelenos and people within the organization draw your attention to writing this book?

A: Not really. Most of the time that 1988 is brought up, at least in my experience and doing PostGame Dodger Talk, it’s by fans and media reminding everybody the Dodgers haven’t won a World Series since 1988. The big story during the 2008 playoffs was that the Dodgers hadn’t won a playoff series since 1988. That’s when 1988 would be mentioned.

You can’t go a day or two at Dodger Stadium without seeing Gibson’s home run. There’s photos all over the ballpark and you see Gibson limping to first base when you walk out of the tunnel onto the field. Still, I didn’t sense a ton of people reminiscing about the team. It was more the frustration at how not being able to win anything since the Miracle Men of 1988.

I do think, however, that the longer the Dodgers go without winning a world championship, the more 1988 is looked whimsically.

Q: Looking back, how much can you appreciate this team and what they did considering how poor some of their stats were - offensively speaking - and who they had to beat to win (the 100-win Mets and the 104-win A's)?

A: One of the first things I did was just pull up the baseball-reference page to look at the roster and the stats of that team. You can’t help think, “how the heck did they win?” The only numbers that stand out are Hershiser’s. Even the stats for Kirk Gibson, who won the MVP award, don’t ‘wow’ you.

Now, in fairness to the Dodgers offense that year, scoring was way down across the sport that year. The year before, in 1987, home runs were dramatically up and that was when people first start wondering about a juiced baseball. Then in 1988, for whatever reason, scoring was way down – not just down from 1987, but also below most of the rest of that decade.

Anyway, I realized at that point this book wouldn’t have a lot of stats. It made me realize that a big part of my job in writing this book was telling people what I initially asked myself, “how the heck did they win?”

Q: What were some of the challenges in writing this book?
A: Tracking people down is always a challenge. This wasn’t too difficult because there’s an incredible number of people from that team who still work in baseball. Figuring out the best time and location for interviews is always a challenge. You want to get them in a setting where they can be reflective, not distracted by the day-to-day issues of their lives, and not just give generic responses.

I guess one of the biggest challenges is that people forget things, so triggering memories of the key principles isn’t easy. It had been 24 years when I was interviewing people. Games blur into games, and seasons blur into seasons for a lot of people in baseball. There were numerous times that I would ask a player about a specific game or play, and they would tell me, “I just don’t remember that.”

It became clear that Hershiser’s pitching and Gibson’s home run were such incredible moments, it made people forget a lot of the other key details from that season. So that was a challenge, but it also represented a great opportunity in explaining, once again, “how the heck did they win?”

Q: What were some of the reactions from the players/coaches/organization when you told them you were writing this book and started bringing up these memories for them?

A: A lot of excitement. Almost everybody said they looked forward to reading the book and wanted me to send them a copy. Vin Scully told me that after I talked with him, that he looked forward to reading about things he’d forgotten, and that gave me goose bumps. It made me realize that I was onto something really good here. It also increased the pressure that I better deliver a quality product. If all these people from that 1988 team are excited to read the book, I better not let them down.

Q: Everyone knows about the Gibson home run and Hershiser's dominance, but what more can readers learn about this team?
A: I was fascinated by how the team was constructed by then-general manager Fred Claire, plus the challenges he faced, the scrutiny that he was under, and how his peers viewed him skeptically because he didn’t have a scouting background. Fred was incredibly helpful and candid. His stories were priceless on how the team was assembled. He was one of the first interviews I did, and the rest of the research was so much easier because of it. The book he wrote about his career was very helpful too.

Steve Sax’s energy was the stuff of legends, and it was evident talking to him on the phone. I think he’s an underrated part of that team and I don’t think he gets the credit he deserves for overcoming the throwing yips.

Plus, that team essentially won because its pitching was so dominant, but the pitching staff was barely held together all year. The great Fernando Valenzuela had the worst year of his career and missed the playoffs with an injury. Tim Leary and Tim Belcher came from nowhere to dominate. All the drama with Jay Howell leaving the A’s (where I was among the A’s fans who booed him the year before), the pine tar incident against the Mets, giving up the home run to Mark McGwire in Game 3, then his mindboggling seven-out save in Game 4. In retrospect, I wish I’d have given Jay Howell’s story more detail. His whole playoff experience that year was fascinating to document.

And even with Hershiser, I still don’t think his scoreless inning streak is appreciated the way it should. The main thing I took from Posnanski’s book on the 1975 Reds was an appreciation for Pete Rose and just how much he hated losing. I wanted to give the same level of appreciation to Hershiser. That’s why every other chapter is dedicated to the six shutouts. You have to remember, the streak occurred in September 1988 and was overshadowed all month. The Seoul Olympics were going on. Football season started, so you had the Raiders and Rams playing on Sunday’s in LA, plus USC and UCLA were Top-10 ranked teams playing on Saturday’s. Four of the six shutouts by Hershiser were road games, including the last two. Nobody thought he could do it. Mathematically, it was practically impossible to do it. It didn’t even become a huge massive story until the fifth shutout was done, and a lot of that centered on the controversy over the umpire’s calls. His performance in September was record breaking, then his performance in October was just chilling. I hope this book makes people view Hershiser in a different light.

Q: Who were some of the best guys to talk to when it came down to getting information and stories?
A: Again, it starts with Fred Claire. The book wouldn’t be very good without his help, especially the offseason chapter, the spring training chapter, and giving context to the trade of Pedro Guerrero for John Tudor. I really enjoyed the Tim Belcher interview. He was really candid about how he went from a prospect to suspect with the A’s because he couldn’t throw strikes, then just suddenly became a strike-throwing machine with the Dodgers. John Shelby told me stories I hadn’t read anywhere else. Tim Leary was really helpful too – great stories, and he graciously gave me his copy of the famed scouting report against the A’s.

And naturally, Vin Scully found a way to give me a couple nuggets at I hadn’t seen written anywhere previously.

Q: You've written a book about Barry Bonds and now about the Dodgers - are you trying to make yourself loved by both fan bases? Seriously, though, how much does that help show your range as an author?
A: I guess I’m trying to make sure everybody hates me. I grew up in the Bay Area and was surrounded by the whole “Beat LA” thing on a daily basis. I never hated the LA teams. I always would have rather seen LA teams win titles than East Coast teams. Then once you go to college and become a journalist, colors and rivalries don’t matter. It’s all about the story. It’s also all about timing and access, and writing what you know.

I knew Barry Bonds because I covered the Giants for The Oakland Tribune in 2001 when he hit 73 home runs, so a book about the season seemed natural. I knew about the 1988 Dodgers because they broke my heart as a kid, and that was the first year I became an obsessive nerd about baseball. I went to 53 regular season A’s games. I’d usually arrive 4-5 hours before first pitch, get autographs, chase home run balls in batting practice, watch the game, stick around for post-game autographs, go home to watch SportsCenter, then do it again the next day. (As I’m sure you can guess, I wasn’t too popular with the ladies in high school.) I knew 1988 really well and it was fun bringing that year back to life.

Q: What's next for you, as an author?
A: First, a mental break. Hopefully, a few more projects eventually. I’ve got some ideas now. But since I just moved to Albuquerque to become the play-by-play announcer for the Dodgers Triple-A affiliate, I’m just trying to focus on my real job.

I really lucked out with Triumph Books. They were excited to work with me on this book, and I definitely enjoyed working with everybody. They came to me with another project a couple months ago. Unfortunately, I had to say no, because I didn’t have the time to do that book properly, at least not right now, from Albuquerque. Maybe in the future I can do that story. But I’ve got a few other ideas. Hopefully, Triumph Books will like those ideas as much as they liked Miracle Men, and I can work with them again soon.

For more information, and to purchase, Miracle Men, follow this link

FAQ about life in Albuquerque so far

2013-04-02T08:07:00.001-07:00

--by @Josh_Suchon

Are you settled? Getting closer. Movers finally arrived yesterday morning. I did some furious unpacking last night, but there are still boxes everywhere. Nothing is on the walls. The cable/internet will get hooked up today. Last night was the first time in 10 days that I slept in my own bed.

This is the view from my office/broadcasting booth.

What do you think of Albuquerque so far? I haven’t seen much, except the ballpark, my formerly empty apartment, my cousin’s house, my aunt’s house, a couple sports bar, and a nearby café that provides free wireless. It’s not in LA, but what is? It seems like a good place and the people have made me feel right at home. Whenever I wear an Isotopes polo shirt, which is almost every day, I get a lot of "Go Topes" reactions. Oh yeah, the food options seem to be pretty spectacular.

When does the season start? This Thursday.

Can I listen online? Yes. The audio of every game is free online at http://www.milb.com/index.jsp. You can also pay to watch streaming video of every game. It’s $9.99/month or $39.99/year at MiLB.tv, although you will always hear the home radio feed. You can still hear the audio of me (for free) on road games, but you can only watch-and-hear me for home games.

How do the Isotopes look? We should have a good team. It’s a good mix of players with major-league experience and young kids in Triple-A for the first time. A humidor was added to the ballpark, which should cut down on some of the offense. More importantly, the Dodgers are now sending their best pitching prospects here, instead of avoiding this level and having them jump from Double-A to the majors. The big talk of spring training, outfielder Yasiel Puig from Cuba, is starting the season at Double-A, but we’re optimistic that we’ll get him here in Albuquerque soon. I have a bet with the Sports Editor of the Albuquerque Journal that we'll see Puig for at least seven days.

Inside the Humidor at Isotopes Park.

Uhh, what does a humidor have to do with baseball? It’s over 6,000 feet here and that elevation makes baseballs travel further. It’s also really dry here. When baseballs sit around in boxes for weeks and months in this dry climate, they get harder. Then when they are used in games, those baseballs fly even further. It’s like the baseballs become golf balls. Especially in the summer, baseball games turn into pinball games there’s so much scoring. This makes it very difficult for the Dodgers to evaluate players. Are the hitters really that good or are the pitchers that terrible? The major league Rockies were the first team to use a humidor, circa 2003. There’s a large enough sample size to definitively say that keeping the baseballs in a controlled environment gives the pitchers a better chance to succeed. The Rockies’ affiliate at Colorado Springs added a humidor last year. The Isotopes are using one this year for the first time.

What’s the story with the Isotopes nickname again? For the longest time, the team’s nickname was the Dukes because this city is known as the Duke City. That franchise left Albuquerque and was moved to Portland after the 2000 season. My former Dodger Talk co-host Ken Levine wrote a Simpson’s episode called “Dancin’ Homer” that first aired on Nov. 8, 1990. A nickname was needed for the fictional Springfield team. Ken chose Isotopes because: a) it was fitting for a town with a nuclear power plant; and b) it was a ridiculous name. (You can download the script here.)

Statue of Homer inside Topes Field.

In 2001, “Hungry, Hungry, Homer” was a Simpson’s episode in which Homer staged a hunger strike when he learned the Springfield Isotopes owner was scheming to move the team to Albuquerque. (This is also the episode that popularized the expression “meh.”) After the 2002 season, the Triple-A team in Calgary moved to Albuquerque. The fans voted on what should be the team’s nickname. Overwhelmingly, the fans chose Isotopes. As a result of this nickname, and a spectacular logo, the Isotopes are routinely in the Top 10 in merchandise sales in the minors. Inside the ballpark are statues of Homer, Bart and other Simpson’s characters. We’ll gladly accept your money if you want to visit the online team store and buysome cool Isotopes schwag.

If you’re a fan of Breaking Bad, the main character sometimes wears an Isotopes hat. He’s a big baseball fan and the show is filmed in Albuquerque. This summer, we’re hoping that Ken comes to town and throws out the first pitch. He better throw a strike, or else we’re booing the hell out of him.

What’s the relationship between the Dodgers and the Isotopes? The Dodgers provide the players, coaching staff and medical staff. The Dodgers pay a (high) percentage of the travel cost, plus the cost of balls and other baseball-related expenses. The Isotopes run the business side – the stadium, merchandise, clubhouses, tickets, advertising and promotions. I’m an employee of the Isotopes, not the Dodgers. When baseball returned to Albuquerque in 2001, they were a Florida Marlins affiliate. They’ve been a Dodgers affiliate since 2009 and are signed through the 2014 season.

The closest major-league team to Albuquerque is the Colorado Rockies, a 450-mile drive. There’s some Rockies fans here, there’s always Yankees and Red Sox fans in every city, and the couple sitting next to me as I type this from a nearby café are clearly Giants fans. But overwhelmingly, this is Dodgers country.

You fly everywhere? Almost everywhere. We fly commercial. That means a lot of 4 am wakeup calls to catch 6 am flights. I think there’s only one direct flight all year, so it’s a lot of layovers in Denver, Dallas and Houston. We’ll bus between Nashville and Memphis, Des Moines and Omaha, and a few other places. Yes, I get to keep the frequent flier miles.

When is your book on the 1988 Dodgers coming out? Wish I could give you an exact date. I thought it would be in stores by now. It could be any day. I received my author copies almost two weeks ago. I keep saying a couple more weeks. You can pre-order a copy now from the publisher’s website. If you want an autographed copy, send me a direct message and I can sell you one of mine. It’s $24.95 plus whatever the cost of shipping would be. You can mail me a check or PayPal me.

When are you coming back to LA? I’ll be doing book signings and other promotional appearances during the All-Star break, July 15-16-17. Also back in September for a friend’s wedding.

What’s the closest city to Los Angeles that you’ll play? Las Vegas on May 11-14, or Fresno from Aug. 3-6.

What’s the closest city to San Francisco that you’ll play? Sacramento on July 30-Aug. 2.

When’s the next time you’re coming back to the Bay Area? Maybe in October for another A’s-Dodgers World Series? Honestly, no clue. No plans anytime in 2013.

What are you doing when the season ends? I’m staying in Albuquerque. I’m a year-around employee. I’ll be doing sales for the team in the offseason.

Are you going to write another book? Of course. Need to get settled and focus on my new job first. Then I’ll pitch my idea to the publisher.

Did you really run Steve Alford out of town in less than three days? Absolutely. This town wasn’t big enough for both of us. He had no chance. Aztecs4life, baby.

"40 Before 40" checklist -- No. 17 -- see my Mom's house

2013-02-05T17:28:00.001-08:00

Most people's "40 things to do before turning 40" lists don't include seeing their mom's house. That's usually a given. Not so in my case.

My mom moved to Sparks, Nev. a couple years ago. It's not an easy drive from Los Angeles. I've been busy. Whatever. I hadn't been there.

That changed at Christmas. I was hoping for a white Christmas. I got it. There's not much left to say. I'm just going to post photos and write captions.

This is my mom's dog Red guarding the house.

This is me looking into the sky and trying to make it snow. It worked.

Feels like a Christmas movie when you're at your Mom's and it's snowing.

Snow falling on the tree outside at night.

The next morning, lots of snow on the same tree.

Very nice white layer of snow at my mom's house.

All that snow fell in about 12 hours. I'm no snow expert, but that seems like a lot.

Even in the snow, Red loves to play with his stick. Is he the cutest dog ever or what?

Got my white Christmas. I'm very happy. Now back to warm LA.

Great few days with Mom and the rest of the family. Yeahhhhhh, finally saw her place.

After the Credits -- Hoosiers

2013-02-02T14:17:00.002-08:00

After the Credits is an ongoing feature where we take the best sports movies ever made and give our opinion on what happened to our favorite fictional characters after the movie ended. Previous entries include The Natural, Bull Durham and Jerry Maguire.

-- by @Josh_Suchon

The movie ends with tiny Hickory High upsetting a taller and more athletic team from South Bend in the 1952 Indiana state championship game. Star player Jimmy Chitwood hits the game-winning shot. Head coach Norman Dale is vindicated. The fans rush the court in celebration. We then see cornfields, a sunset, a kid shooting hoops, and we hear a voiceover of the coach saying, "I love this team."

So what happened after the credits?

Head coach Norman Dale (Gene Hackman): This was clearly a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately town, so even winning a state championship did not lead to job security for Dale. Remember, he lost his previous job after hitting a student and he had a famous temper. He was actually fired a few games into the season, but only kept his job when star player Jimmy Chitwood decided that he would only start playing if the coach remained. The next season, without Chitwood, the Hoosiers crashed back to earth and didn’t make the playoffs. Midway through the following season, the town had enough of Dale and fired him. Dale was resilient, bouncing from job to job, at high schools, small colleges, and as an assistant in bigger colleges. He kept making great speeches and turned around some struggling teams, but always wore out his welcome. His modern-day equivalent would be Kevin O’Neill.

Assistant coach “Shooter” Flatch (Dennis Hopper): The town drunk was able to (mostly) clean up his act during the movie and serve as a valuable assistant coach to Dale. Like most alcoholics, it wasn’t easy for him to stay sober. He fell off the wagon numerous times over the years. Shooter didn’t get the head coaching job when Dale was fired. He was fired too, and that led to him getting back on the sauce. His knowledge of basketball was never in dispute though. Coaches throughout the country would seek him out to learn his philosophies, especially the perfect way to run “the picket fence.” These coaches kept money in his pocket and provided some stability in an otherwise chaotic life.

Myra Fleener (Barbara Hershey): The faculty member who didn’t like the importance that basketball was placed in the community was caught up in the excitement of the state title run in the movie. After the Cinderella season, her awkward relationship with head coach Norman Dale was doomed to fail. When he was fired, there was no way Fleener would follow him from random town to town, as he looked for his next basketball job. Fleener fell in love with another faculty teacher, somebody who didn’t care about sports, and they got married. They had five children, all boys. They all played basketball. Fleener reluctantly took them all to basketball practices, bought them high top Converse shoes, and still thought basketball was stupid.

Jimmy Chitwood (Maris Valainis): Big-time college recruiters didn’t know about the small-town prodigy until his heroics in the playoffs. Already a shy kid, the overwhelming attention made him uncomfortable. The public was obsessed with him and he was pressured into signing with the storied Indiana Hoosiers. His first year in college was a disaster. He didn’t like the huge campus, struggled with the expectations, and the coach didn’t allow him to shoot at will.

Frustrated, Chitwood transferred to Indiana State. He thrived in the smaller environment and the coach gave him the green light to shoot whenever he wanted. Chitwood led the Cyclones in scoring his next three years, led the nation in scoring as a senior and the Cyclones advanced to the Final Four. That fueled a media frenzy of whether Chitwood could do for Indiana State what he did for Hickory four years earlier. Alas, the Cyclones were dominated by UCLA and the fairytale ended. Chitwood was a late first-round draft pick in the NBA, but struggled to get his shot off against superior defenses. He bounced around the NBA for a few years, made a decent living playing in Europe, and he’s now a renowned shooting coach. Jimmy Chitwood’s modern-day equivalent, naturally, is Jimmer Fredette.

Ollie (Wade Schenck): The team manager who was forced into a critical playoff game, nearly choked it away, and improbably won a game with two free throws wasn’t done with his 15 minutes of fame. Ollie hoped to get more playing time the following season. But the success of the team led to more kids trying out for the team. Ollie only played in garbage time.

He kept his sense of humor, learned the nuisances of the game, and became a sports reporter for the local newspaper. His reporting was sold, and soon enough the Indianapolis Star lured him to the big city. Ollie covered college basketball, then the Indiana Pacers, and retired as a beloved sports columnist. His modern-day equivalent is Andy Katz.

Whit and Rade Butcher (Brad Boyle, Steve Hollar): Whit was kicked off the team early in the movie for disrespecting the coach at practice. He apologized to the team and returned. His brother Rade got in trouble in the opening game for shooting too much. After high school, they played junior college basketball together, then walked onto the Indiana State team. (The coach did anything to make Jimmy happy, including putting his old buddies on the team.) Both became high school basketball coaches.

Everett Flatch (David Neidorf): He was the son of drunken assistant coach Shooter. You might recall him punching an opposing player after Chitwood was intentionally fouled on a breakaway layup, then got shoved into a glass trophy case. Of course, he started drinking like his Dad. There’s a lot of pent-up anger in that kid. He became a high school basketball coach.

Buddy Walker (Brad Long): Buddy was also kicked off the team early in the movie, but mysteriously reappeared in a later game with no explanation for how he was re-instated. He became a high school basketball coach.

Merle Webb (Kent Poole): His most famous line was in the locker room before the final game when he told his teammates, “let’s win this one for all the small schools that never had a chance to get here.” He became a high school basketball coach.

Strap Purl (Scott Summers): He was the son of the preacher who during a timeout late in one game said an extra prayer for a teammate about to shoot free throws. He became a preacher … and a high school basketball coach.

The case for extreme penalties for PED users

2013-02-01T17:18:00.001-08:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

What’s the best way to get rid of performance-enhancing drugs in sports? One strike and you’re out. Forever banned. Think about how that would change an athlete’s willingness to press his luck on using PEDs.

Of course, that’s not realistic. False positive tests happen. Not all illegal drugs are the same. Sometimes there are legitimate mitigating circumstances that occur. Even if they’re blatantly guilty, people deserve second chances.

The next-best strategy -- and perhaps the only hope for those of us who do want to believe what we are seeing is real in sports – is two strikes and you’re done. If I were the Commissioner of sports, this would be my penalty system.

First offense: 365-day suspension with no pay. Not 50 games in baseball. Not four games in football. One year total. During that year, you can’t negotiate a new contract, even if you’ve become a free agent. You can’t practice with your teammates or workout at your team’s minor league complex. You can’t participate in minor league games as part of a “rehab” assignment. You don’t get service time during this year, your arbitration clock doesn’t run, you don’t appear on MLB-licensed baseball cards or video games. You’re completely on your own for 365 days, with no pay, left on your own to stay in shape. After the 365 days is up, you can return your team (or sign with a new team), head to the minors or whatever is necessary to return.

Second offense: lifetime ban. No playing. No coaching. No managing. No scouting. No broadcasting. The only way you’re going inside a ballpark is if you purchase a ticket. If you’re banned for life that means your name is not eligible to appear on a Hall of Fame ballot. That takes the decision making out of the hands of baseball writers. Just ask Pete Rose what it’s like, not being allowed on the field (except for special moments like the 1999 All-Star Game) and knowing your plaque will never appear in the Hall of Fame.

Is this extreme? You bet. Damn straight it is. That’s the whole point.

I don’t agree with Curt Schilling very often, but we have the same opinion on this topic.

Of course, you need a truly independent panel to hear grievances and challenges to positive tests. The panel should be more than three people, and not include people from the players union or commissioner’s office.

It should be a jury of your peers. Perhaps a couple retired players, a couple retired front-office executives, a couple highly-respected members of the media, and a retired judge or arbitrator as the seventh and final vote. Have them serve a two-year term. Maybe the fans can vote for the judges.

I’m not sure if it will make a difference. People cheat. That’s just what they do. Athletes are people. They will always look for an edge.

If this doesn’t work, then Matt Hurst is right, we should give up on having a clean sport and let athletes put whatever they want into their bodies. Hell, make it mandatory to take ’roids and televise the ceremonial pre-game needle injections.

But I’m not ready for that. Not yet. I still want my sports clean.

The only way to make it happen is the stiffest, most extreme penalties possible.

UPDATE: Cardinals slugger Matt Holliday agrees.

The Case for Steroids In Sports

2013-01-30T08:48:00.002-08:00

By Matt Hurst

@ThrowbackAttack

At what point does the public stop caring about headlines?

Look at almost any news cycle – be it in sports, or news or entertainment. There is the immediate interest, the follow-up reporting to keep you hooked, a resolution and then we’re on to the next one.

Whether it is constant wars and militant uprisings in the Middle East or parts of Africa, school shootings in the U.S., the latest with Britney Spears or a fake dead girlfriend, at some point we stop caring about the splashy headlines because there’s going to be something else to attract our attention.

That’s where we are with performance-enhancing drugs.

On Tuesday there were not one, but two PED-related stories that came out within hours of each other and momentarily drew some attention on Twitter and online. Yet seeing another set of athletes involved in a steroid scandal is no longer interesting or revolting. It’s become far too common and at this point it’s too easy to believe everything (deer antler spray barely registered a blip, right?), shrug your shoulders and assume that the majority of professional athletes in any sport are juiced.

And why wouldn’t they be?

The penalties are far too light – even baseball’s – for the athletes not to take risks and why would they give a damn if they get caught? They still get paid. The juice is definitely worth the squeeze.

Then it’s always a three-part process:

1. Deny steroid claims; discuss how hard you work out and that you’ve never tested positive.

2. Go into hiding as evidence builds; repeat step one in any interview.

3. Come clean; apologize, knowing the public will forgive you.

Part 3 of the PED Process.

Rather than feign anger or act surprised, as fans we should stop caring about steroid use. Whatever rules are in place to prevent steroid use and clean up a sport, those who want to cheat will do so. They will find ways around it. Just think about how long it would take you, right now, to get a bag of marijuana, which is illegal in 48 states. And you’re probably devoid of any hook-ups or insider secrets that these athletes have in getting PEDs.

So let’s treat sports as what they are at the highest levels – entertainment.

Going to a game is like going to the movies. You pay for a ticket and hope to be entertained for a few hours. Vince McMahon runs a very successful empire on ‘roided up entertainment. Instead of creating the XFL, he should have created the SSL – Steroid Sports Leagues.

Tell me you wouldn’t want to watch players who are as juiced as possible doing amazing things in a sport. This would pull the cover off of everything. Strangely enough, it would legitimatize records and accomplishments because there would be a clear separation.

(Quick tangent – for those who are ever worried about records, then you’re not thinking to the times when baseball was segregated, when football didn’t emphasize the forward pass – or if they did, then the rules in place to accompany it – or when basketball didn’t have three-point lines. The game changes, folks.)

You mean a guy can play a punishing sport for 17 years,
be dominant in it, tear his triceps, come back
in the same season and we are supposed to believe he's clean?

We already don’t care that football players are using performance-enhancing drugs the way kids go through a bag of Skittles. Think about it – we don’t care whenever an NFL player gets popped for PED’s and is given a four-game suspension. It barely registers, something that’s in the agate part of the Sports section. There has never been a star busted in the NFL for steroid use, leading one to believe that the most powerful league in sports uses mediocre players as sacrificial lambs, suspending these lesser players to claim the league cares about this issue, likely hiding positive tests from the stars. Because, really, who would miss a third-string middle linebacker vs. a starting quarterback?

Look around the NBA – you really think that league is clean? And while there isn’t a regular test for human growth hormone, a pro athlete would be foolish not to use it during a long season and after working out to stay as fresh as possible.

The solution is not to make more rules and more tests, but to allow all professional athletes to use performance enhancers.

Of course, there is a trickle down effect based on this and here’s how to assure that youths, college athletes and minor leaguers don’t use, too. Put all the efforts of drug testing into the lower levels. Make it as clean as possible. Enforce a one-and-done policy where if you get caught, you’re banned for life. That way when someone makes it to the upper echelon, they did it on pure talent. Now, feel free to juice up and do things the human body wasn’t designed to.

It's all entertainment, right?

As fans, we’ll grab our popcorn and be entertained. If we want a clean version, we can watch college sports or the minor leagues. If we want to witness freaks of nature – once a compliment of a player and now a legitimate term – we’ll tune in.

As Maximus shouted in Gladiator: “Are you not entertained?”

A free agent fan picks his first favorite hockey team, part I

2013-01-09T12:32:00.003-08:00

-- by @Josh_Suchon

The hockey lockout is over. That means it’s time for me to get serious about selecting my favorite hockey team. I’ve never had a favorite hockey team. I’ve never followed the sport much. But it’s one of the items on my list of “40 things to do before turning 40 years old” and it’s time to do it.

Picking a favorite team from scratch isn’t easy. I want to do it for the right reason. I don’t want to take the easy way out. I don’t want to dis-own my team after a couple seasons. I want this decision to be for life. I want to have a unique connection to my new favorite hockey team.

I started the process by eliminating teams for various principles. Here is that list:

Eliminated because I’m a proud Californian who can’t possibly like teams from these cities (5): NY Rangers, Philadelphia, New Jersey, NY Islanders, Boston.

Eliminated because the city is lame (3): Columbus, Buffalo, Sunrise/Florida.

Eliminated because the NHL shouldn’t have a team in that city (3): Tampa Bay, Phoenix, Carolina.

Eliminated because they already have enough fans and don’t need any more (3): Detroit, Montreal, Toronto.

Eliminated because one of my good friends already loves that team for whatever reason, and I want to be unique around here, and I want to talk shit when my teams plays his team (2): St. Louis, Vancouver.

Eliminated because my St. Louis Blues fan friend would never talk to me again if I picked that team (1): Chicago.

Eliminated because they just won the Stanley Cup, so if I pick them, I look like the biggest Bandwagon fan ever (1): LA Kings.

Eliminated because if I’m not a LA Kings fan, I can’t pick the team down the freeway because driving on I-5 is a major pain in the ass, and I hated the fucking movie that inspired this team (1): Anaheim

Eliminated because I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and I already have enough favorite teams from that region, and I don’t live there anymore, so I need to expand my horizons more (1): San Jose

That eliminated 20 of the 30 teams. So now we’re down to 10.

Out of those 10, I wrote a letter to five of them and mailed it on Wednesday, Jan. 9, 2013.

I won’t list which five teams are on the list here because I didn’t want the teams to know their competition. I asked each of the five finalists the same five questions:

* The most basic: why should I become a fan of your team?

* What should I expect from the team and the front office if I become a fan?

* Part of picking a new favorite hockey team is falling in love with the city and visiting there often to see my favorite team. What should I expect from the city, and what should I know about it?

* I don’t want to be associated with a bunch of idiot fans. How would you describe what most of your fans are like?

* Has your team, or any of your players, made a video for the “You Can Play Project?” If not, how come?

Yes, I want to be courted and wooed by a team. No, this isn’t a ploy to see whatever team sucks up to me the most. There are lots of factors in choosing a favorite team and whatever response I get (if any) is only one factor.

Of course, I realize that after a lengthy lockout, hockey teams will be doing everything they can to win back their fans and secure new fans. The timing is actually really good for me to pick a favorite hockey team for the first time. Still, it’s not about who sends me the most free stuff. I want to make an informed decision.

For the five teams not eliminated earlier on this list, but who did not receive letters from me in the mail, they aren’t completely out of the running. If I’m not satisfied with the response from the current Final Five, then I’ll re-open my search again.

The process has begun.

The ball, err, puck is in the hands, err, stick of five teams.

This free agent hockey fan will announce his decision a few weeks into the season.

To be continued …

Which college football bowl games to eliminate

2013-01-06T21:13:00.000-08:00

How many college football bowl games are too many? Well, we know for sure that the current 35 bowl games is a ridiculous number.

On the latest Out of Ink podcast, Josh Suchon and Matt Hurst discuss how we got to 35, what's the ideal number, which bowls should be eliminated, and what the criteria should be to get eligible for a bowl game.

Should there be sports played on holidays?

2013-01-02T22:34:00.001-08:00

In the latest Out of Ink podcast, Matt Hurst and Josh Suchon debate whether it's a good thing there are so many sporting events played on Holidays.