Let's not kid ourselves here: football is dangerous, and the NFL brand is very dangerous.
But if the NFL really and truly wanted to make it less dangerous, it would get more serious about the rules surrounding headhunting.
Sure, the "targeting" rule gets enforced and 15-yard penalties and fines get handed out.
But all too often, the headhunter gets rewarded even though he's penalized. How's that?
Let's look at the second-quarter play in Oakland yesterday. Raiders tight end Mychal Rivera made a diving catch over the middle and as he went down, Titans safety Michael Griffin roared in and delivered the kind of hit that should be used to illustrate the textbook "targeting" foul: he led with the top of his helmet and drilled a defenseless Rivera in the head.
The blow knocked two things loose: River'a helmet and the ball.
The officials flagged Griffin for the foul, but ruled the pass incomplete. In other words, a 30-yard gain for the Raiders became a 15-yard gain on the penalty. Griffin stayed in the game, the Raiders stayed out of the end zone, and Tennessee went on to win. Not a bad deal, right?
The NCAA is taking some heat for its new anti-headhunting rule, which would have seen Griffin ejected on the spot. "Too harsh," some complain. Indeed, there have been some ejections that didn't hold up well when seen through the lens of replay.
But let me suggest that even the NCAA rule isn't enough. Here's my modest suggestion: when a defensive player commits this kind of foul, give the offense the yardage AND the penalty. It's ridiculous to allow a player to perform an act of mayhem and have his team benefit from it.
You might ask, "But how would the refs know if the player would have held onto the ball?" My answer: doesn't matter. Assume that he would have, give him the yardage, and march off the penalty from there. This would have turned that Raiders pass play into a 45-yard gain instead of the 15 they ended up with.
Same thing on turnovers. In the Broncos-Patriots game, Denver safety Duke Ihenacho earholed Patriots running back LeGarrette Blount. Blount fumbled and Denver recovered. In this case, the refs blew the call: Ihenacho should have been flagged but wasn't. Again, because his team got to keep the ball, the bad guy wins. Under my new rule, the ball stays with the Patriots and the 15-yarder gets tacked on. And Ihenacho watches the rest of the game from the locker room.
This head-injury thing isn't a joke. Until the NFL stops treating it like one, things won't change.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
The Hits Keep Coming
America's two biggest professional sports are facing the same problem: they've become too violent.
It's a real quandary for the NFL, which has marketed its brand of sanctioned mayhem for many a year. Now, the league is trying to ease away from the madness a bit, imposing heavier fines on players who deliver blows to the head. The unintended consequence may be more injuries to the knees of players as tacklers aim lower.
Baseball's danger zone has been around home plate, where baserunners have been more and more willing to mow down catchers. The Buster Posey incident in 2011 forced a conversation about the practice of blasting into a defenseless catcher. Former catchers like Bruce Bochy and Mike Matheny fueled that conversation, which gained volume when Tigers catcher Alex Avila was mowed down by Red Sox runner David Ross during this year's ALCS.
Baseball is moving forward with a rule that should drastically reduce these crashes at the plate. It's pretty simple, really. College and high school rules already tell the umpire to call a runner "out" if he smashes into the catcher, unless the catcher is holding the ball and blocking the plate--and even then, the runner must make an effort to touch the plate.
But catchers will still face an elevated risk of concussions from foul balls. Matheny retired young because of the repeated head injuries, and nobody has truly solved this problem.
Both the NFL and MLB (and, to be honest, the NHL as well) are reaping a bitter harvest of seeds planted long ago. In glorifying "action", these sports created an environment in which high-speed collisions and contact became ever-more-important parts of the game. Unfortunately, as players have gotten bigger, stronger and faster, the results of those collisions have become uglier, both in the short term and over the long haul.
The dilemma is this: can high-speed action sports be played more safely? Is it even possible to play football and hockey without accepting a frightening risk of head injuries? And as fans, would we accept changes to the sport that might increase the margin of safety for its players?
Would we still love football if defensive backs simply tackled receivers, rather than trying to "blow them up" and knock the ball loose? Would a hockey game without body checks be as satisfying? And what will baseball fans and pundits think the first time a play at the plate results in a slide-and-tag, rather than a collision?
How we answer these questions may well decide the future of our pro sports scene--or at least the lives of those who play those sports.
It's a real quandary for the NFL, which has marketed its brand of sanctioned mayhem for many a year. Now, the league is trying to ease away from the madness a bit, imposing heavier fines on players who deliver blows to the head. The unintended consequence may be more injuries to the knees of players as tacklers aim lower.
Baseball's danger zone has been around home plate, where baserunners have been more and more willing to mow down catchers. The Buster Posey incident in 2011 forced a conversation about the practice of blasting into a defenseless catcher. Former catchers like Bruce Bochy and Mike Matheny fueled that conversation, which gained volume when Tigers catcher Alex Avila was mowed down by Red Sox runner David Ross during this year's ALCS.
Baseball is moving forward with a rule that should drastically reduce these crashes at the plate. It's pretty simple, really. College and high school rules already tell the umpire to call a runner "out" if he smashes into the catcher, unless the catcher is holding the ball and blocking the plate--and even then, the runner must make an effort to touch the plate.
But catchers will still face an elevated risk of concussions from foul balls. Matheny retired young because of the repeated head injuries, and nobody has truly solved this problem.
Both the NFL and MLB (and, to be honest, the NHL as well) are reaping a bitter harvest of seeds planted long ago. In glorifying "action", these sports created an environment in which high-speed collisions and contact became ever-more-important parts of the game. Unfortunately, as players have gotten bigger, stronger and faster, the results of those collisions have become uglier, both in the short term and over the long haul.
The dilemma is this: can high-speed action sports be played more safely? Is it even possible to play football and hockey without accepting a frightening risk of head injuries? And as fans, would we accept changes to the sport that might increase the margin of safety for its players?
Would we still love football if defensive backs simply tackled receivers, rather than trying to "blow them up" and knock the ball loose? Would a hockey game without body checks be as satisfying? And what will baseball fans and pundits think the first time a play at the plate results in a slide-and-tag, rather than a collision?
How we answer these questions may well decide the future of our pro sports scene--or at least the lives of those who play those sports.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Not So Hard, Was It?
Baseball is joining the headlong rush toward video replay.
But the Beantown Blooper in Game 1 of the World Series is proof that many, if not most, of the bad calls in baseball don't require replay to resolve. All they require is a quick meeting of the umpires.
When Dana DeMuth missed the call at second base (Cards shortstop Pete Kozma dropped a feed while trying to turn a double play), pretty much everyone in the stadium and watching on TV knew it. In DeMuth's defense, the call is trickier than it looks: he's trying to make sure Kozma's foot hits the bag before the baserunner gets there and simultaneously trying to see him catch and hold the throw.
It's the kind of play where mistakes often get made by umpires because the natural rhythm of the game is disrupted. Second baseman Matt Carpenter's feed was awkward, leading to the flub.
But the bottom line here is much ado was made of nothing. DeMuth got it wrong, the Red Sox squawked, the umps huddled and got it right. End of story.
Especially in postseason play, where foul-line umpires boost the umpiring crew to six, there are always plenty of extra eyes on every play. The problem has never been seeing what happened. It's historically been a cultural problem: baseball umps simply wouldn't countenance any implication that they were less than perfect.
Dig into the history of the game and you'll see why. Umpires had to establish themselves as being firmly in control of the game and its players and managers. The first thing any young umpire learns is that his body language and demeanor matter a lot, because players and managers will challenge him early and often. What other sport allows the level of on-field complaining and arguing that baseball permits?
The "code of silence" forbade any ump to pipe up and overrule a member of the brotherhood. Don't you think first-base ump Jim Joyce wishes one of his crewmates had spoken up when he missed the call that cost Armando Gallaraga a perfect game in 2010? Surely someone saw the mistake but no one did anything about it.
It's encouraging that umps are now putting their heads together. It's a shame that it took this long, and a bigger shame that it may be too late to rescue fans from the endless delays brought on by video replay. A call reversal like we saw in Game 1 should have become commonplace long ago, rather than becoming a headline-generating incident.
But the Beantown Blooper in Game 1 of the World Series is proof that many, if not most, of the bad calls in baseball don't require replay to resolve. All they require is a quick meeting of the umpires.
When Dana DeMuth missed the call at second base (Cards shortstop Pete Kozma dropped a feed while trying to turn a double play), pretty much everyone in the stadium and watching on TV knew it. In DeMuth's defense, the call is trickier than it looks: he's trying to make sure Kozma's foot hits the bag before the baserunner gets there and simultaneously trying to see him catch and hold the throw.
It's the kind of play where mistakes often get made by umpires because the natural rhythm of the game is disrupted. Second baseman Matt Carpenter's feed was awkward, leading to the flub.
But the bottom line here is much ado was made of nothing. DeMuth got it wrong, the Red Sox squawked, the umps huddled and got it right. End of story.
Especially in postseason play, where foul-line umpires boost the umpiring crew to six, there are always plenty of extra eyes on every play. The problem has never been seeing what happened. It's historically been a cultural problem: baseball umps simply wouldn't countenance any implication that they were less than perfect.
Dig into the history of the game and you'll see why. Umpires had to establish themselves as being firmly in control of the game and its players and managers. The first thing any young umpire learns is that his body language and demeanor matter a lot, because players and managers will challenge him early and often. What other sport allows the level of on-field complaining and arguing that baseball permits?
The "code of silence" forbade any ump to pipe up and overrule a member of the brotherhood. Don't you think first-base ump Jim Joyce wishes one of his crewmates had spoken up when he missed the call that cost Armando Gallaraga a perfect game in 2010? Surely someone saw the mistake but no one did anything about it.
It's encouraging that umps are now putting their heads together. It's a shame that it took this long, and a bigger shame that it may be too late to rescue fans from the endless delays brought on by video replay. A call reversal like we saw in Game 1 should have become commonplace long ago, rather than becoming a headline-generating incident.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
This Should Be An Easy Call
Anywhere else on Earth, the chance to host a world-class event like the America's Cup would have the civic leaders abuzz.
But in case you haven't been paying attention, San Francisco may or may not be on the same planet as the rest of us. Side story that says a lot about the political realities of San Francisco: let's go back to 1983. Mayor Dianne Feinstein is facing a recall election after she proposed a handgun ban--and was targeted for recall by a leftist group. She was dismissive of the recall, and my colleague Mike Sugerman pressed her by saying, "But Mayor Feinstein, more than 20,000 people signed the petition!"
Feinstein's reply summed up San Francisco realpolitik: "Mike," she sighed, "This is San Francisco. You could get 20,000 people to sign a petition calling for open-air sewers on Market Street." Further side story: Mike took her up on that assertion and did get several people to sign such a petition.
Back to the main thread. The carping from elected (and formerly-elected) officials has been consistent and can be summed up thusly: "We don't want to make anything easy, and we sure as heck don't want to make anything easy for a bunch of rich guys."
Political posturing aside, can someone show me exactly how the just-completed America's Cup regatta was a loser for San Francisco (and, in a broader sense, the Bay Area at large)? There's been an insane fixation on a probably-inflated "economic benefit" number floated way early in the process. So what if the event didn't generate $1.4 billion in economic impact (as if anyone can actually prove such a number anyway)?
You don't have to wait for the final numbers to come in to know that the America's Cup attracted a lot of people to The City. It'll seem a little strange not to hear the New Zealand accents that became such a part of the cityscape over the summer. Make no mistake about it: tourism is a huge economic engine in San Francisco. Visitors spent millions of dollars a day, and tourism pours a half-billion dollars a year worth of tax and fee money into the City treasury.
As they take down the signs and banners, Cup organizers will leave behind a cleaned-up setting at Piers 27 and 29, two of the many underutilized eyesores along the San Francisco waterfront. "The City That Knows How" has been notably slow to capitalize on its remarkable waterfront and the Cup events did far more good than harm.
Without question, billionaire Larry Ellison's side overreached in choosing the wickedly-expensive AC-72 catamarans. A cheaper boat would have kept more players in the game, probably triggering even more tourist visits (and long-term stays by competing teams). But the game-changing speed developed by sailboats that ride on foils instead of hulls is a "no-turning-back" proposition. Wherever the next America's Cup is held, it'll be an amazing spectacle. Give naval architects, sailors and the people cooking up broadcast technology another three or four years and who knows what they'll come up with?
Which brings us back to San Francisco. There are few places on the planet where you can stage a sailboat race within full view of crowds that can watch for free. It's a city already blessed with the infrastructure to handle throngs of visitors. And you'd think any place with those blessings would be thrilled to host the next America's Cup.
But this is not just any place. It's San Francisco. Ellison's win will merely begin the next round of backbiting and posturing. The boat-loving billionaire can help his case by declaring early and often that he's not in this to score a real estate coup along the waterfront. He won't win over the usual suspects, who play the political game as a full-contact sport. He can't expect logic to prevail, because that's not how San Francisco rolls.
He needs to find a way to make the yacht races feel like a gift to the City and not a billionaire's scam. And he needs to be ready for the reality that winning the Cup twice might be easier than winning the hearts of San Francisco politicians.
But in case you haven't been paying attention, San Francisco may or may not be on the same planet as the rest of us. Side story that says a lot about the political realities of San Francisco: let's go back to 1983. Mayor Dianne Feinstein is facing a recall election after she proposed a handgun ban--and was targeted for recall by a leftist group. She was dismissive of the recall, and my colleague Mike Sugerman pressed her by saying, "But Mayor Feinstein, more than 20,000 people signed the petition!"
Feinstein's reply summed up San Francisco realpolitik: "Mike," she sighed, "This is San Francisco. You could get 20,000 people to sign a petition calling for open-air sewers on Market Street." Further side story: Mike took her up on that assertion and did get several people to sign such a petition.
Back to the main thread. The carping from elected (and formerly-elected) officials has been consistent and can be summed up thusly: "We don't want to make anything easy, and we sure as heck don't want to make anything easy for a bunch of rich guys."
Political posturing aside, can someone show me exactly how the just-completed America's Cup regatta was a loser for San Francisco (and, in a broader sense, the Bay Area at large)? There's been an insane fixation on a probably-inflated "economic benefit" number floated way early in the process. So what if the event didn't generate $1.4 billion in economic impact (as if anyone can actually prove such a number anyway)?
You don't have to wait for the final numbers to come in to know that the America's Cup attracted a lot of people to The City. It'll seem a little strange not to hear the New Zealand accents that became such a part of the cityscape over the summer. Make no mistake about it: tourism is a huge economic engine in San Francisco. Visitors spent millions of dollars a day, and tourism pours a half-billion dollars a year worth of tax and fee money into the City treasury.
As they take down the signs and banners, Cup organizers will leave behind a cleaned-up setting at Piers 27 and 29, two of the many underutilized eyesores along the San Francisco waterfront. "The City That Knows How" has been notably slow to capitalize on its remarkable waterfront and the Cup events did far more good than harm.
Without question, billionaire Larry Ellison's side overreached in choosing the wickedly-expensive AC-72 catamarans. A cheaper boat would have kept more players in the game, probably triggering even more tourist visits (and long-term stays by competing teams). But the game-changing speed developed by sailboats that ride on foils instead of hulls is a "no-turning-back" proposition. Wherever the next America's Cup is held, it'll be an amazing spectacle. Give naval architects, sailors and the people cooking up broadcast technology another three or four years and who knows what they'll come up with?
Which brings us back to San Francisco. There are few places on the planet where you can stage a sailboat race within full view of crowds that can watch for free. It's a city already blessed with the infrastructure to handle throngs of visitors. And you'd think any place with those blessings would be thrilled to host the next America's Cup.
But this is not just any place. It's San Francisco. Ellison's win will merely begin the next round of backbiting and posturing. The boat-loving billionaire can help his case by declaring early and often that he's not in this to score a real estate coup along the waterfront. He won't win over the usual suspects, who play the political game as a full-contact sport. He can't expect logic to prevail, because that's not how San Francisco rolls.
He needs to find a way to make the yacht races feel like a gift to the City and not a billionaire's scam. And he needs to be ready for the reality that winning the Cup twice might be easier than winning the hearts of San Francisco politicians.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
How To Make a Problem Worse
Look, everyone agrees that football needs to do something about the head injuries.
But I think that pretty soon, everyone is going to agree that the NCAA's new "targeting" rule is a complete disaster.
The first weekend of the college season brought a number of penalties for violation of the new rule, put in place this season in an attempt to make the game safer. In the NCAA's own language, the rule "requires that players who target and contact defenseless opponents above the shoulders will be ejected. The change increases the on-field penalty for targeting by adding the automatic ejection to the existing 15-yard penalty."
That automatic ejection sounds like a swell idea. After all, if you really want to take the headhunting out of the game, it stands to reason that you should get the headhunters out of the game, right?
Not so fast. The clumsy implementation of the rule includes a requirement that the ejection portion of the penalty be reviewed by a video-replay official (there's no overturning the 15-yard marchoff); the replay officials must have "conclusive evidence" that the on-field ejection decision was wrong in order to rescind it.
Yikes. At least one of the weekend's ejections (in the Texas A&M-Rice game) was probably a late hit, but probably not "targeting". Ergo, the Texas A&M defender should not have been tossed.
And then there was the Cal-Northwestern game, in which Bears linebacker Chris McCain leveled Wildcats QB Trevor Siemian after Siemian delivered a pass. A violent hit? For sure. A late hit? Possibly. "Targeting"? Well, that's where it gets dicey.
For starters, McCain stands 6'6" to Siemian's 6'3", so even a "clean" hit runs the risk of contact around the head. Video replays showed, at worst, McCain's helmet riding up toward Siemian's chin as the play ended.
Those replays should have been seen by an official to decide if the on-field decision to eject McCain was warranted. There was plenty of confusion at Memorial Stadium before McCain was led off to the locker room, but it turns out the one thing that didn't happen was an official replay of the video!
Two days after the game, the Pac-12 conference issued a statement. I quote in part: "because of a technical failure and resulting breakdown in communication, the play in question was not actually reviewed after the replay official was made aware that McCain had been ejected for Targeting.
But I think that pretty soon, everyone is going to agree that the NCAA's new "targeting" rule is a complete disaster.
The first weekend of the college season brought a number of penalties for violation of the new rule, put in place this season in an attempt to make the game safer. In the NCAA's own language, the rule "requires that players who target and contact defenseless opponents above the shoulders will be ejected. The change increases the on-field penalty for targeting by adding the automatic ejection to the existing 15-yard penalty."
That automatic ejection sounds like a swell idea. After all, if you really want to take the headhunting out of the game, it stands to reason that you should get the headhunters out of the game, right?
Not so fast. The clumsy implementation of the rule includes a requirement that the ejection portion of the penalty be reviewed by a video-replay official (there's no overturning the 15-yard marchoff); the replay officials must have "conclusive evidence" that the on-field ejection decision was wrong in order to rescind it.
Yikes. At least one of the weekend's ejections (in the Texas A&M-Rice game) was probably a late hit, but probably not "targeting". Ergo, the Texas A&M defender should not have been tossed.
And then there was the Cal-Northwestern game, in which Bears linebacker Chris McCain leveled Wildcats QB Trevor Siemian after Siemian delivered a pass. A violent hit? For sure. A late hit? Possibly. "Targeting"? Well, that's where it gets dicey.
For starters, McCain stands 6'6" to Siemian's 6'3", so even a "clean" hit runs the risk of contact around the head. Video replays showed, at worst, McCain's helmet riding up toward Siemian's chin as the play ended.
Those replays should have been seen by an official to decide if the on-field decision to eject McCain was warranted. There was plenty of confusion at Memorial Stadium before McCain was led off to the locker room, but it turns out the one thing that didn't happen was an official replay of the video!
Two days after the game, the Pac-12 conference issued a statement. I quote in part: "because of a technical failure and resulting breakdown in communication, the play in question was not actually reviewed after the replay official was made aware that McCain had been ejected for Targeting.
Because the Targeting penalty was not reviewed at the time, the Pac-12 Conference has reviewed the play and determined that McCain should have been reinstated into the game."
Yikes again. "Technical failure"? "Breakdown in communication"? And the net result is the ejection of a key player?
The NCAA's attempt to police headhunting is laudable, but the cure is questionable. Any time there's this much uncertainty about a decision with such dire consequences, you have set up a recipe for disaster.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Dempster Achieves The Impossible
I didn't see this coming: I'm sitting down to write a piece defending Alex Rodriguez.
While the Lords of Baseball (and certainly the New York Yankees) wish A-Rod would just go away, the boneheads of Boston have managed to render him at least a mildly sympathetic figure.
Numerous members of the Red Sox issued public complaints about Rodriguez' continued presence in the Yankees lineup while he appeals MLB's 211-game suspension. Bad enough, since every last one of the complainers is also a beneficiary of the same Basic Agreement that affords Rodriguez the right to appeal his suspension.
But then pitcher Ryan Dempster decided to play target practice with Rodriguez, with a full house at Fenway roaring its approval. That it took four pitches for Dempster to finally hit Rodriguez says volumes about a guy in the twilight of a mediocre career. Angry Yankees manager Joe Girardi noted that Dempster doesn't hit many batters; maybe it's because he's usually walking them (an average of 4 per 9 innings throughout his career).
Rodriguez wasn't hurt and he gained his retribution later in the game with an emphatic home run in a Yankees comeback win. I'm not here to scold Dempster for the mere act of throwing at an opposing hitter. Baseball has long existed with a delicate balance on this issue, though it has been twisted in the American League, where the designated hitter rule frees pitchers from facing their own music.
No, the bigger problem here is this: Dempster (and one must assume the Red Sox were in on the deal) took an off-the-field issue onto the field. There's a process in place: MLB investigated Rodriguez' dealings with the tainted Biogenesis clinic, handed down its punishment, and A-Rod appealed. Everything by the book.
Until the Beantown Vigilante Committee decided to get involved. What next? A player's outspoken comments on a political matter make him a target of a harder-than-necessary slide at second base? Or an anti-DUI crusader decides to "make things right" by spiking a player busted for drunk driving?
What Dempster did crosses a very dangerous line. It's of course ironic that a player would decide to mete out rough justice to another player simply for exercising the rights guaranteed to every player facing MLB discipline.
And it's just plain bizarre than the master of the Just Plain Bizarre, A-Rod, would be the sympathetic figure in all this.
While the Lords of Baseball (and certainly the New York Yankees) wish A-Rod would just go away, the boneheads of Boston have managed to render him at least a mildly sympathetic figure.
Numerous members of the Red Sox issued public complaints about Rodriguez' continued presence in the Yankees lineup while he appeals MLB's 211-game suspension. Bad enough, since every last one of the complainers is also a beneficiary of the same Basic Agreement that affords Rodriguez the right to appeal his suspension.
But then pitcher Ryan Dempster decided to play target practice with Rodriguez, with a full house at Fenway roaring its approval. That it took four pitches for Dempster to finally hit Rodriguez says volumes about a guy in the twilight of a mediocre career. Angry Yankees manager Joe Girardi noted that Dempster doesn't hit many batters; maybe it's because he's usually walking them (an average of 4 per 9 innings throughout his career).
Rodriguez wasn't hurt and he gained his retribution later in the game with an emphatic home run in a Yankees comeback win. I'm not here to scold Dempster for the mere act of throwing at an opposing hitter. Baseball has long existed with a delicate balance on this issue, though it has been twisted in the American League, where the designated hitter rule frees pitchers from facing their own music.
No, the bigger problem here is this: Dempster (and one must assume the Red Sox were in on the deal) took an off-the-field issue onto the field. There's a process in place: MLB investigated Rodriguez' dealings with the tainted Biogenesis clinic, handed down its punishment, and A-Rod appealed. Everything by the book.
Until the Beantown Vigilante Committee decided to get involved. What next? A player's outspoken comments on a political matter make him a target of a harder-than-necessary slide at second base? Or an anti-DUI crusader decides to "make things right" by spiking a player busted for drunk driving?
What Dempster did crosses a very dangerous line. It's of course ironic that a player would decide to mete out rough justice to another player simply for exercising the rights guaranteed to every player facing MLB discipline.
And it's just plain bizarre than the master of the Just Plain Bizarre, A-Rod, would be the sympathetic figure in all this.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Get Used To It
Giants fans, it's pretty bad right now. That sweep at the hands of the Cubs--all one-run losses, all marked by painful moments of failure--is the low point of 2013. For now.
So pardon me for rubbing salt in those open wounds. But have you been keeping an eye on the Dodgers' Yasiel Puig?
The 22-year-old Cuban has put up eye-popping numbers since he arrived in LA in early June. Not coincidentally, the Dodgers have gone from last to first with Puig manning right field. They were 9 games under .500 the day before he arrived. Since then, the Dodgers have been playing out of their minds. They're 17 games over .500 (33-16) in The Puig Era.
But it's not just wins and losses and stats. With Puig, you're talking about a bona fide Big-Time Star. This guy elevates showboating to a level you don't see very often. His latest exploit: the punctuation mark on his first-ever walk-off home run. Check it out:
Puig conducts his interviews in Spanish, so it's possible things get lost in translation. But here's what he said afterward about his unusual arrival at home plate: "Some people jump, some people slide, some people run."
Really? Because I don't remember ever seeing a major-leaguer end a game by hitting one over the wall and then sliding home.
It's the part of Puig's game that gets opposing fans red in the face and causes opponents to grind their molars. It's probably not a coincidence that Puig was in the middle of the big Dodgers-Diamondbacks donnybrook in June, a few days after his arrival in the big leagues. Old-school guys like Kirk Gibson and Matt Williams have very little use for Puig-style cavorting.
Yep, it annoys people (including, it's been reported, some of Puig's own teammates). Nope, it's not likely to go away. This guy is a singular talent whose backstory is still being revealed (this excellent Yahoo! Sports piece brought new details to light). Puig is...well, he's Yasiel Puig. And he's made it clear he's damned well going to do what he's going to do.
As long as he's hitting .372 and swaggering with the hottest team in baseball, don't look for him to suddenly go all Buster Posey on us.
Better get used to it.
So pardon me for rubbing salt in those open wounds. But have you been keeping an eye on the Dodgers' Yasiel Puig?
The 22-year-old Cuban has put up eye-popping numbers since he arrived in LA in early June. Not coincidentally, the Dodgers have gone from last to first with Puig manning right field. They were 9 games under .500 the day before he arrived. Since then, the Dodgers have been playing out of their minds. They're 17 games over .500 (33-16) in The Puig Era.
But it's not just wins and losses and stats. With Puig, you're talking about a bona fide Big-Time Star. This guy elevates showboating to a level you don't see very often. His latest exploit: the punctuation mark on his first-ever walk-off home run. Check it out:
Puig conducts his interviews in Spanish, so it's possible things get lost in translation. But here's what he said afterward about his unusual arrival at home plate: "Some people jump, some people slide, some people run."
Really? Because I don't remember ever seeing a major-leaguer end a game by hitting one over the wall and then sliding home.
It's the part of Puig's game that gets opposing fans red in the face and causes opponents to grind their molars. It's probably not a coincidence that Puig was in the middle of the big Dodgers-Diamondbacks donnybrook in June, a few days after his arrival in the big leagues. Old-school guys like Kirk Gibson and Matt Williams have very little use for Puig-style cavorting.
Yep, it annoys people (including, it's been reported, some of Puig's own teammates). Nope, it's not likely to go away. This guy is a singular talent whose backstory is still being revealed (this excellent Yahoo! Sports piece brought new details to light). Puig is...well, he's Yasiel Puig. And he's made it clear he's damned well going to do what he's going to do.
As long as he's hitting .372 and swaggering with the hottest team in baseball, don't look for him to suddenly go all Buster Posey on us.
Better get used to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
