Anyways, with all that going on, it’s tough to find the time to blog about the Royals.  I think I’ve probably said that before, too.  It’s nearly the middle of August, and the boys in blue are a couple games better than they were last year, and, because it’s only a couple, they’re a non-factor.  It can be kind of difficult to come up with material to write about (thank God for Jose Guillen and brawls).  That said, I’ve been toying with the idea of exploring “The Dayton Moore Era,” and I’m certain I’m not the first person to do this here at the two-year mark.  What I really want to examine is not specific player developments, or wins and losses, but the basic components of successful baseball.  I want to look at offense, defense, pitching, and relief pitching.  At its core, that’s what a winning team fields, and we do want a winning team.  From the majors to the minors, we’ve got to look at how we’re doing.  I apologize if the scope seems limited.  I’ve heard less is more, which is a good thing in this instance, because I’d like the time to apply for one more job today before Lauren (my lovely bride-to-be) gets home from work.  Also, I’d like to watch another episode from season 5 of “The Wire.”  It’s getting down to the… well, you know.  On we go!

I’ll start with relief pitching, because that’ll be an automatic positive.  From Dayton to the scouting department to pitching coach Bob McClure, this entire organization has done an outstanding job identifying players with “stuff” (my favorite word, for those of you who regularly read) and teaching them how to pitch.  For too long, we would see a guy with raw ability or athleticism or whatever, and throw him in the pen (and, often, in the rotation for a few months).  There would be moments of greatness, and then–poof–everything would catch up with them.  All stuff, no pitch.  That’s usually what happens when you sign some “project player” and then fire the pitching coach, who is serving as a “project manager.”  That makes the player sort of like an Olympic swimmer who’s placed in the middle of the ocean in a boat with no oars.  Does he have “stuff?”  Yes, he does, but he’s not in a pool–he’s in the middle of an uneasy current, with no coast in sight.  He never had a chance.

That’s not the case anymore, and it’s far enough along to say that success isn’t a coincidence.  We’re plugging different guys in and out the last couple of seasons, with varying levels of success.  We determine whether they have a chance to help us out late in the game, and usually, we give them the tools to strive.  If they fail, we move them out quickly, and find someone else to plug the hole.  That’s why I don’t lay blame for Yabuta or Gobble–not everything works, and if you own up to a mistake early enough and replace that person with a guy who can succeed, you’ve done your job.  Trial and error.  We know what we’re doing there.  No worries.

Starting pitching has improved, but it’s certainly not dominant.  I wouldn’t even call it “good.”  It’s passable, and I only say passable when comparing their rotation to the “Ghosts of Rotations Past.”  No Bobby Keppels or Dennys Reyess will slip into the start of a game.  Did you know we’ve only used seven starting pitchers this year?  Seven!  That’s, like,… well, that’s like a number a legitimate major league baseball team would have!  We hadn’t approached that since, what, the 1990s?  Early 1990s?

Durability?  Sure.  Quality?  Mixed.  Zack Greinke and Gil Meche could start for any other baseball team, which is really good (again, that’s only “good” when compared to past teams–it’s passable).  Are they top of the rotation guys?  No.  They shouldn’t be.  Right now, they’re solid two and three guys, with Greinke still eligible to reach his potential and anchor a staff.  As for the rest, I’m not as down on Hochaver as everyone else.  He’s a heady guy who incurs groundballs.  I think it’s too early to call him a dud just because some other guys in that draft have already put up great numbers.  He may not be Linchecom or Longoria, but it’s way too early.  Sure, he has a 6-10 record and a 5.54 ERA, but he’s a ROOKIE.  Not everyone develops at the same speed (I feel like I’m teaching a health class in middle school).  Davies, on the other hand, hasn’t grown.  He’s had a few years, and in that time, he still walks people too much and strikes guys out too little.  He gives up a lot of hits.  Guys get on base frequently.  I’m not sold.  As for Brian Bannister,… I’m sorry, he’s cooked.  Everyone’s afraid to say it because he’s really smart, and he thinks and talks along the same lines as news reporters and columnists, but… he’s a spot starter.  He can’t think his way out of this funk.  He thinks like a pitcher, but he needs the basic skill set of a pitcher in order to last.  He’s not Greg Maddux–only Greg Maddux is Greg Maddux.  He’s a spot starter at best.

As for building the rotation down on the farms, I think Dayton’s done a good job securing a lot of different guys.  Carlos Rosa was here, and people are high on him, although I’m not one of them.  I see him, and I think Billy Buckner and JP Howell and all the other guys that had some talk of an upside, and then Dayton saw past the bull and sent them packing.  It’ll happen with Rosa, too, but hopefully, we’ll trick a team into more than Alberto Callaspo II, Electric Bugaloo.  Daniel Cortes and Blake Wood (hope I’m thinking of the right guy) look pretty decent.  Those A ball guys we got the last few years look more solid than the older rookies.  Still, it’s good to pick up a lot.  You can’t just pick up five young arms and assume they’ll be good due to scouting reports.  Here, quantity is quality.

I want to say the defense has improved, but it hasn’t.  We still drop flyballs.  We still run into people.  I have been to countless games the last 5 years where two guys will run towards a fly ball, stop, and look around as a ball drops right in front of them.  I went to the game where Esteban German took a FLY BALL TO THE FACE–A FLY BALL!!!  I was at the Indians game where we broke the 12-game losing streak and, still, Esteban German or Joey Gathright or somebody ran with their backs towards the ball, Willie Mays style, and whiffed on the fly ball.  And, of course, there was the first game in the Boston series, where Alex Gordon and Tony Pena Jr. ran into each other on a groundball to short.  The fact that this keeps happening is preposterous.  It shouldn’t happen.  It needs to be fixed.  We shouldn’t own all the highlights on a blooper reel.

And finally, that leaves me with the much-maligned offense, which, really, isn’t all that bad.  It’s missing a couple bats.  As soon as you give Teahan a position (I’m sure he’d like one of those, too), he’ll be a pretty good number two in the line-up.  He has strong baserunning instincts, and can knock runs in when he doesn’t have to be the guy.  He’s not that type of player–he’s a good role player, and not the stud we desperately want him to be.  He’s a starting… something, but he deserves to hit.  John Buck is a starting catcher.  He handles pitchers well, and hits decent enough for a catcher.  For those who think Buck is abysmal offensively, let me remind you folks of an old adage Yogi Berra once said: CATCHERS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO HIT.  Actually, I don’t think Yogi Berra said that, because it makes sense and didn’t have a folksy spin.  Buck hits for some power, a .250 average, and takes it up a notch when guys are on base.  That’s ok for a catcher.  Deal with it.  Jose Guillen can hit.  DeJesus should keep up his great year.  Mike Aviles, if he goes down to, what, .280 or so, is a good option in the line-up–the guy is clutch.  He may not be a shortstop, but he’s clutch.

The supplemental ingredients are there for the offense.  They just need catalysts.  That’s where we get to Billy Butler and Alex Gordon.  If those guys reach their potential, this team looks a lot better.  Will they?  Gordan has been labeled cocky and arrogant, and reports are he doesn’t listen.  If that’s true, maybe he should look at his average against lefties.  If he climbs there, we’re good.  Billy Butler seemed to have awoken from his sophomore sleep a few weeks ago, but can he sustain that for a season?  Is the power back?  Can he adjust to big-league pitching?  It’s early to say for all of that. 

We fans want production now, but we forget all about the early struggles from our “Core 4″ of Carlos Beltran, Johnny Damon, Jermaine Dye, and Mike Sweeney.  Beltran was electric his rookie year, and then sucked for the next year and a half–flat-out sucked.  Johnny Damon was labeled “the next George Brett” and went on to play garbage baseball for about two years until we made him our fourth outfielder.  He lit it up after realizing he couldn’t crack the Royals starting line-up.  Jermaine Dye was a two-year bust, either injured or playing injured.  And, as for Mike Sweeney,… well, he was a catcher, and was not putting up even John Buck-sized numbers for his first THREE years he floated in between the minors and the big-league club.  Hell, I remember wanting SAL FASANO to start games–SAL FASANO!!!

So, we don’t know if the big bats will come, and the farms aren’t encouraging.  Moustakas is tearing it up in Burlington right now, but here’s the deal with that–if the guy is smashing the ball in a town, and you’re not certain what statethat town is in, you’re gonna be waiting for a while.  Ryan Shealy and that Hawaiian guy (Kh’ia, I think) are hitting a ton at first base in Omaha, but, as usual, there’s a logjam at first base.  Free agency can help, but you don’t really want your huge bat in the middle of the line-up to come with a fat contract gained from time on another team.  He’s older, and, to me, it always felt like a rental, and someone we’d just trade in a year and a half.  I want a slugger we build.  I don’t want to buy used.

All in all, I think the team is in better shape, but I’m not sure if we have what it takes to be “good” any time soon.  All I can say now is that if I were asked for five teams worse than the Royals, I could name them in under a minute.  Couldn’t say that before.  As for being close to contention, or in a great position in the farms?  Better isn’t great.  Here, better isn’t even good.  We are trying, however, and I haven’t been able to say that before.

It’s been two years since my last memory of a Royals brawl, and, I know it’s not good to perpetuate this whole “violence in sports” issue, but… well, charging the mound is just awesome!  I can’t help it.  There are so many reasons to love a good brawl, but here’s why I love it the most: it symbolizes a team standing together as a team.

Getting hit by a baseball is part of the game, and, honestly, it’s a part of growing up.  In Little League, this is (hopefully) the first chance a young boy gets to suffer pain to themselves in order to help the greater good.  Now, when I say “suffer pain,” I’m not talking about a shot to the head–that’s obviously messed up.  But, hey, when we’re talking about the fastball of a 10-year-old kid hitting your shoulder as you turn in?  That stings, and when you do that for others, your character is being built.  Sure, you’re sore jogging to first, but your friends are cheering you on, one of your male role models (or a coach you despise) is telling you you did a great job, that feels good.  Plus, you automatically get on first base and get the chance to score.  After you run the bases and, hopefully, score, your bruised shoulder doesn’t hurt that bad.  It looks pretty cool, actually.  It’s certainly a lot cooler than the black eye I got playing first base because I didn’t tag the correct spot on first base.  Word to all you young first basemen (and Billy Butler)–don’t stand directly in front of the base as the batter is running full speed towards the bag.  You will get leveled; you will get a black eye; you will break your Wal-Mart brand Oakley rip-offs, and you will drop the ball.

So, with that out of the way, getting hit is less awesome when you’re facing a fastball in the 90s, whether habitually or towards your head.  That’s when the pitcher needs to know “Yeah, I know, I’ll get on base if you hit me, but I might also die if that thing lands in my skull.”  To enforce this, the victim needs to retaliate.  The Royals have been plunked routinely by the White Sox–routinely.  They’re also smart mouths and showboats.  The last time we faced the team, AJ Pyri… I don’t want to spell his name.  So, yeah, Captain D-Bag hit a home run and postured.  He taunted.  Everyone in baseball hates him, and that was a prime example.  He and Brett Tomko had a HUGE altercation during their time in San Francisco, when the good Captain was catching for Admiral No-Strike.  We should have kept Tomko on the roster long enough to ink AJ with his own tramp stamp, and then let the fists go a-wailin’ on round two!

In that last game, former Royals closer Octavio Dotel beaned Miguel Olivo, and Olivo voiced his unhappiness over his starting pitcher, Zack Greinke, not getting his back.  This was about two months ago.  This weekend, we finally got to see some payback.

Former average Royals starter and reliever DJ Carrasco was facing Olivo and brushed him back a couple of times.  Olivo had had enough and charged the mound.  He was tired of this crap.  He was done.  He stormed the mound and then, for some strange reason, stopped.  That looked strange.  It was almost like he wanted to square up and land a really incredible.  Sorry, Charlie, but a brawl moves pretty quick, and in that split-second, you got a big pile of Captain D-Bag grabbing you from behind (please, no jokes).  Benches cleared.  McClure started yelling at the third base coach.  Jose Guillen kept everyone in line (he’s a complicated man, not unlike Shaft or David Caruso, circa 1993).  Carrasco got kicked out, and the craziest man in America, White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen, went ballistic.  I know, it’s very unreasonable for the pitch that tried to decapitate someone three pitches in a row should be removed from the game.  In the press conference following the slugfest, Ozzie screamed about how he wasn’t going to stop throwing at people and challenged what seemed to be every umpire to their own special, one-on-one mound slosh.  Seriously, if Ozzie doesn’t win the division this year, shouldn’t he be gone?  Shouldn’t he have to leave Chicago and go manage… the Royals?  Awesome times 10.

After the brawl, two innings later, red-hot White Sox outfielder/new first baseman Nick Swisher, got plunked in the thigh by my favorite man-child, Zack Greinke.  Greinke got tossed; Trey Hillman got tossed.  After the game, the Greink told the media he hit him on accident.  After all, it was his roughest inning, and he’d been having trouble with throwing inside to lefties all day.  Oh, and it was hot.  Also, he’d eaten some hot wings after Juan Uribe’s at-bat.  The ball was bound to come out!

My favorite brawls in the past have been out of sheer ridiculous.  Past readers undoubtedly know about my affection for Felix Martinez, everyone’s favorite insignificant sucker-puncher and his puppy dog train of thought during a brawl (”Ooh!  People!  People!  Gotta say hi!  Hey!  Pay attention to me!  Pay attention to me!  Wanna play?  Wanna play?  Wanna play?”).  There’s also Runelvys “Hurricane” Hernandez and his fastballs to Carlos Guillen’s chrome (”Gee, what’d I do?”), which was followed by the great Kyle Farnsworth pile drive of Jeremy Affeldt.  I even liked watching ol’ Sweendog, Mike Sweeney, everyone’s favorite nice guy, go charging after everyone’s favorite schizophrenic pitcher, Jeff Weaver (and his wicked mustache).  This brawl, however, was different.

Two things were accomplished.  Well, three things, I guess.  For starters, we won.  I didn’t think we would.  Usually, when we’re on a roll, and we face a division rival, we crap out.  Get swept.  Become worthless.  This time, we stood our ground.  Good work.  My losing two out of three prediction?  Way off.  Two, we finally fought back, and told all of baseball you can’t track mud onto the Royals anymore.  Ozzie Guillen needs to wipe his feet at the door, or else he’s going to get bounced (or, at least, we’ll try to bounce him and end up with a bloody lip).  Either way, we earned some much needed respect.  And third, we finally have a team we can look forward to playing.  The Kansas City Royals finally have a rivalry again.  We’re getting closer and closer to becoming a major league baseball team again.

I don’t know exactly how I came up with this comparison, but while driving home from my dad’s earlier today, hearing the latest update today on “Favregate” or “Favrewatch” or “Days of our Favre” (I prefer “General Favrepital,” personally), I came to the conclusion that Brett Favre is the NFL equivalent of the lead character on “The Wire,” Jimmy McNulty.  For those of you unfamiliar with the show, I’ll try and catch you up the best way that I can without ruining anything for you.  “The Wire” was an HBO show focusing on the Baltimore drug trade, as told from the perspectives of everyone involved: the cops (all levels), the dealers (all levels), the dock workers (stevedores) who traffic, the prison system, the politicians, the schools, the journalists–everybody.  The show uses frank and realistic dialogue, which results in frank and realistic actions.  An episode by itself can seem somewhat lifeless and boring, but if you watch the show all the way through, and let the situations and the tensions build upon themselves, the payoff is GI-GANT-TIC.  It’s an example of excellent storytelling, like an old 1930’s serial set to contemporary times.  Sure, it takes a while to get into, but once you see that first payoff (and it is MASSIVE–watch the first season until about halfway through and tell me you’re not blown away).  This was one of the greatest shows to ever air on TV, and if you’re looking for a show to Netflix, this is it.  You will not be disappointed.

The main character on the show is Jimmy McNulty, a homicide cop who has dedicated his whole life to doing whatever the hell he wants to do.  Is he good police?  Yes.  Is he a good person?  Maybe.  He certainly understands his job is to protect civilians, and that’s good, of course.  That’s more of a long-term, universal good that will make the world around him a slightly better place.  Now, as far as being a good person to those directly around him?  He’s a jerk.  He’s flawed.  He’s an extremely selfish guy.  He sees his own way to try and get the most solid arrests possible, and he will backstab everyone around him in order to accomplish his goals.  It’s the whole “Ends justify the means” approach, and McNulty will forever have to deal with the consequences he lays out for himself by burning bridge after bridge.  He’s also a massive drunk who habitually cheats on his wife.  I’d love to give you examples, but hey, that would be ruining things, now wouldn’t it?

This finally leads me to Brett Favre.  While not identical twins, Favre and McNulty share painstakingly similar personality traits.  Example number one would have to be their undying loyalty to “the job,” and putting that love over everything else.  McNulty “needs” to be police–real police.  If he’s not working on an important case, the man is a disaster, even a waste on society.  Give him something important to do, and he sees purpose in his life once again.  Basically, if he’s in the line-up, there’s no problem (could have also made that comparison with Jose Guillen, I suppose).  Brett Favre shows this same type of respect for “the job,” too, although, if he doesn’t play, he’s not nearly as self-destructive.  Then again, we wouldn’t know if Favre were self-destructive if he missed a start–he hasn’t missed one since, what, 1994?  1993?  I guess that proves my point somewhat, too.  Favre demands to play.  Through thick and thin, slight injury after slight injury, year after year, he insists.  He probably bullies, I don’t know.  Why wouldn’t he after 14 or so years of consistent play?

This need to work segues into my second example into the two men: they are both extremely self-centered.  They think very highly of themselves, and believe that, if they’re not in on the plan, whether it be a wire tap or a first-round playoff game, they don’t see any way it can get done.  There are positives and negatives to thinking this way.  The positive, of course, is that if you’re on their side, you obviously want them there, because they’re good at their jobs, and will help you reach your goal.  The largest negative to this is, well, if either one of them believe they can succeed without you, they will stab you in the back.  They will manipulate any little tear in the system to get what they want, and if that means bouncing your butt out of their, they will.  If McNulty can only enter an investigation by dumping a huge amount of bodies on a friend that will shatter his clearance rate and possibly cost them their job, he’ll do it.  If Favre feels he can only win the Super Bowl if his hold-out wide receiver shows up to training camp, he’ll call him out, even if the wide-out (Jevon Walker) hasn’t been conditioning as well as he could and should have been (Walker tore his ACL in the first game of the season).

The most glaring example of their similarities has come this off-season, where Favre has gone back and forth as to whether he wanted to play.  By the time he made up his mind, it was too late, and instead of taking the high road, Favre started talking secretly in behind doors meetings, making demands, trying to spike interest from rival clubs, and somehow feels as if he has control over his own destiny, even though he is still under contract for only one employer, and only the Packers control whether Brett Favre will ever play football again.  McNulty employs the same sort of haphazard, bulletproof approach to his everyday life, going over the heads of his bosses for short-term successes but, in the meantime, committing career suicide, with fear that he’ll be removed as soon as the next case is over.  McNulty could be let go at any second, but feels like that doesn’t matter, and, quite honestly, doesn’t see any way for him to get let go if he clears a massive, 18-point buck of a target.

The final point I want to make here is the two character’s most unifying trait: they are both very good at their jobs.  That’s why they can do whatever they want.  As Homer Simpson would say about TV detective McGarnicle, “It’s because he gets results!”  Then, Lisa would tell him to sit down (My first Simpsons reference on this site–thought I’d have at least one by now).  McNulty is a driven, passionate, thorough detective who knows how to get true charges, how to build evidence, and how to complete objectives in his job.  Brett Favre has the instincts and the ability to win football games, to lead men into scoring opportunities, and how to make his team better.  He wins football games.  He knows how to complete objectives in his job, too.  What the two fail to see is that no matter how many dealers you put away, or how many games you win, there will always be more, no matter if you’re there or not, and that you can easily be replaced.  Their pride blinds.  The only difference here is that one of them has scripted consequences, while the other has penalties awaiting his decisions, and there’s no writer to try and help him escape.

First, before I talk about Jose Guillen, let me preface this with my long-standing opinion on baseball players: if they can play, and they are playing well, and they haven’t committed a serious felony (basically anything with violence or stealing money), we should probably leave them alone, because all we, the fans, should want (or require from them) is to play baseball.  Jose Guillen hits.  He leads our team in RBIs (and actually has a lot–this isn’t an Emil Brown-type situation), and he leads our team in home runs (double digits at the end of July–again, a real, literal home run leader). 

Is he a malcontent?  Yes.  Is he a cancer?  That word has taken on a whole new level since my dad fell ill.  I think the next time Jose Guillen blows up and someone like Kevin Keitzman calls him a “cancer,” I’ll probably blow up and write a huge, emotional posting about how we use strong words loosely and out of context, but right now, I haven’t the emotional strength nor the time to type such a piece.  I’ll just say no, Jose Guillen is not a cancer, because the club is not at risk of anything “life-threatening” right now.  They’re not courageously winning in spite of him and his maybe/possible desire not to be with the Royals.  The Royals are winning, and Guillen is aiding them. 

Guillen plays every day.  He could pull a Frank Thomas every once in a while and sit out, but he doesn’t.  He is a competitor.  He’s a lot of other things, too, but he’s a gamer.

There is no reason to give up Jose Guillen unless we get value back.  If we release him, say good-bye to any shot at Moore receiving the go-ahead to sign long-term extensions and quality stop-gaps.  If you’re okay with the days where Zack Greinke would’ve been traded for a Chip Ambres, a Blake Stein, and a Jay Witasick, and Matt Stairs hits third for three seasons, then yeah, release Jose Guillen.

I’ve also heard some talk that we couldn’t get anything of value if we did want to trade Guillen, and that there’d be no interest.  To this, I give a confused look.  Didn’t the Yankees just win a bidding war for some guy named Xavier Nady?  Nady of the career .281 batting average, and the career high RBI total of 72?  He’s hitting .325 this year, so if you take that anomaly out of his lifetime numbers (and it will be an anomaly), and that’s, what, a .260s lifetime average?  As for the career high RBI total of 72… Emil Brown led the Royals in RBIs the last three seasons, and he logged more RBIs than that in two of them.  Emil had 62 in 366 at-bats in part-time duty in 2007; Nady had 72 in some 431 at-bats that same year.

Everyone and their mom coveted Professor Xavier, and you’re telling me there’s not a market for Jose Guillen?  Yes, he has an attitude problem, and yes, he has a mouth, but he can hit.  There’s a reason teams traded for Carl Everett in the middle of their playoff runs–that d-bag could hit.  If we really wanted to, we could get two good prospects–if we wanted to.

That leads right into the trade talk, I guess.  Although I think we should trade Guillen, and very well could work out a favorable deal, we won’t.  Won’t happen.  Should happen; won’t happen.  People are speculating that, because everyone denied that Guillen wanted out of KC, that the organization would have to “stick to their word” and keep him.  That’s garbage.  That should be a poker face.  You tell people “Everything is fine” so no one grows suspicious, deal the guy, and then later say, “Oh, yeah, we couldn’t tell you.  Otherwise, it would have blown the deal.”  It’s business.  That said, I don’t think that’s what the team is doing.  They believe what I believe–if the guy hits and hasn’t been pitting dogs against one another to the death, you keep him.

Apparently there’s no market for Gruds, which is too bad.  I love me some Gruds, but he’s 38, and we’ve signed him to, what, two options now?  He did what we asked of him.  We should try and get something of value in return.  Unfortunately, I don’t think we will, although the Castillo injury in Minnesota is an interesting development.  I suppose I’ll know more later today.

Ron Mahay should stay unless we get blown away, and teams that trade for veteran relievers usually give up more than they should, which is a good sign.  Two prospects for one middle reliever?  Sign me up!  The shelf life of a one inning pitcher is the shortest in baseball.  Great one year; washed up the next; decent the year after that.  It’s a roller coaster.  Look at Jimmy Gobble.  He went from an absolute reliability to an absolute liability in one year.  You get rocked once, and it takes a year to recover (if you ever do recover).  Always trade a middle reliever.  Always do it.

As for being “sellers,” it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, which is awesome, in my opinion.  I remember the Appier trade; I remember the Damon trade; I remember the Dye trade; I remember the Beltran trade (they all involved Oakland, and they all involved trading for inferior talent).  Sure, this is a new regime now, and more than likely, we’ll scout the prospects better, but I don’t want to be a seller anymore–not yet.  Not in this year of Greinke’s contract; not in this year of Meche’s contract; not in this year of DeJesus’s contract.  I want to keep them this year, unless the return is a small farmclub.  The return has to be HUGE.

I think a trade will happen, but I don’t know if it will be major.  I’m excited, though.  I like it when this team changes.  Before, change scared me with the Royals because they seemed to just be going through the motions.  Now, I think they associate changing with adapting to their surroundings.  When a wild animal goes through the motions, surprises can spring up, and they can die.  When they know how to adapt, surprises aren’t really surprises, because they can become a member of the changing climate.  They can survive.  The Royals are finally learning how to survive.

Wow, I went off target.  So, I wasn’t expecting any trade rumors, or, at least, I expected to hear more fleshed out details about a pursuit of Meche or Greinke, but The Kansas City Star provided me with a lot more than those tired deals that will never happen (this year…).  No, this was shocking–Brian Bannister for Melky Cabrera.  Straight up.  Maybe a throw in prospect; maybe not.  These are the two guys, though.  These are the keys.

“Rany on the Royals” talked about this rumor earlier today, but, thankfully, we had slightly different observations on the deal after hearing about it.  As I said earlier, mine was shock and, also, confusion.  I don’t really keep up on the comings and goings of the Yankees because, well, because I hate them, but wasn’t Melky Cabrera raking it a couple years ago?  I thought he was some young stud centerfielder who pushed Johnny Damon into left field, a la Carlos Beltran almost a decade ago (almost a decade ago)?  Why would the Yankees offer up that guy for Brian Bannister, a pitcher who, although the epitome of a student of the game, well-learned and such, doesn’t have the skills to ever be an top of the line, ace starter?  Sure, he’s had moments where his game has been on, but this season has certainly not been one of those seasons.  There were people that were talking about sending him to Omaha, and now the Yankees are riding an eight game winning streak, looking to bolster their damaged rotation for the playoff push, and they want the guy with a 5.40 ERA?  Doesn’t make sense–doesn’t make sense.

Then, I looked at Melky Cabrera’s numbers.  It still wasn’t that logical of a trade as far as I was concerned, but it wasn’t the no-brainer I once thought it was.  Turns out a young member of a New York sports team was, as it seems, overhyped (I know–I’m shocked, too).  That year he burst onto the scene?  His batting average was .280, he hit 7 home runs, 50 RBIs, stole something like 12 bases, and showed the ability to walk.  Good defense, too.  Not bad, but again, I was expecting a little more lightning out of the bottle.  His average has gone down the last two years (it’s something like .254 this year), but power numbers have gone up, and he’s shown the same ability to walk and play a great centerfield.

I’m not sure why the Yankees would want to give up on this kid, but hey, I say let them.  We can upgrade Bannister.  It sucks because everybody likes him.  He’s really smart, likeable, cerebral, and, if you’ve noticed, every journalist in this town has a man-crush on the guy because, you know, he can read (and does!).  The truth is, he’s not Greg Maddux.  He can’t be.  He’s going to be a middle-of-the-road pitcher, probably a Terry Mulholland type when it comes to spot starting and long relief (not to actual pitching–they’re entirely different).  Melky, on the other hand, looks like he could become a Brian McRae-type, and, while that’s not a superstar, it’s still a pretty darn good commodity to have on your team.

With all that said, I would pull the trigger on this trade that I honestly don’t think will happen.  For one reason, I think the Yankees will try to go after Jarrod Washburn despite the fact that he sucks.  If that fails, I truly cannot imagine a scenario in which their saving grace would ever be a 27-year-old man with a 5.40 ERA.  Can’t see it.  Can’t see it, can’t see it, can’t see it.  There has to be someone who fits better.  I can’t see Cashman doing it, even if it his final year (probably).  I can’t see Hank Steinbrenner opening that bull horn he calls a mouth and shouting “We need that pitcher in last place Kansas City whose had an ERA of 7 in the last two months, and we need him now!!!”  I just can’t see it.  But hey, if they want to make that trade, they should absolutely go for it.

Vote Melky in ‘08.  I believe in Melky Cabrera.

Between Jeff Montgomery’s exit and Joakim Soria’s arrival, Royals fans have lived with 12 or so years of roller-coaster baseball in the ninth inning.  Names like Ricky Bottalico, Roberto Hernandez, Mike MacDougal, and Octavio Dotel has been placed in the shut-down position, with relatively little success.  Until this year with Soria, no lead has really been safe.  Bottalico bombed out in Philly, achieved a little success in St. Louis (not enough to be re-signed), and did a one-and-done in KC.  I don’t believe he even started out the year as “the guy.”  He played something like 62 games and had 16 saves.  That’s either a lot of set-up duty, or a historical amount of blown saves.  Hernandez was once one of the more competent closers in the game, but once he got here, he showed his age–he wasn’t the same guy.  MacDougal was productive for about half a season (and even secured an All-Star berth, his first of one), and then proved to be just as erratic as before.  Those clips of him striking out Albert Pujols, Frank Thomas, and Barry Bonds are great and all, but the Riechert-esque passed balls won’t fly.  Paul Splitorff even referred to one as “Little League,” and Split usually comes off as some kind of supportive father figure during his broadcasts (”Sure, the boy puts lit M-80s in mailboxes, but he’s just a terrific kid who needs boundaries”).  Dotel was fine for his half a season here, but he’s never really been the calming stopper everyone else has hyped him up to be.  Houston didn’t just dump him because they were so high on Brad Lidge.  Little known fact–Brad Lidge is old.  You don’t usually try and upgrade old for old.

All of those guys had been closers before, so they’d kind of earned the right to secure leads for this team at the end of the game.  The one guy who always comes to my mind, however, hadn’t earned his spots.  He bombed as a starter in the minors, was moved into the bullpen as primarily a set-up guy in Double-A, and was called up in 2005 because… well, because everyone who wasn’t named Aaron Guiel got called up back in those days (Shane Costa had a cot set up in the back–now it’s Neal Musser’s).  The Royals used the washed-up starter as an eighth inning set-up man, and when MacDougal pulled a MacDougal and tore muscles pitchers JUST DON’T TEAR (great form), Burgos became the closer.  Although he couldn’t hold onto the job once MacDougal came back, he was handed the reigns yet again when MacDougal was traded.  That was 2006.

Burgos had an ERA of 5.52, with 18 saves, and 12 BLOWN SAVES!  Excellent.  He also walked 68 batters in some 135 innings.  Doubly excellent.  After pitching only 12 innings his entire career at Double-A (an inning for every blown save), we brought him up.  He had great… wait for it… wait for it… stuff.  Apparently, his curve ball was good.  I don’t remember that.  I remember a breaking ball that didn’t move.  Are curveballs supposed to move?  I’m not sure.  I’m not a scout or anything, but I thought they were called “12-to-6 curveballs” because, you know, the face of a clock has a 12 at the very top, and a 6 at the very bottom.  I guess the metaphor is the pitch drops as severely as the weight of time.  Or, you know, “it goes down real quick.”  I think this is a fairly inaccurate description of the movement on an Ambiorix Burgos curveball.  If I were to compare his pitch movement to things on a clock, I’d say he had a “top of the minute hand to slightly below the top of the minute hand.”  You know, it technically moves, due to gravity and such, but not enough where someone trying to hit it would have to, say, adjust, or do anything differently.  They could just “swing away,” as Mel Gibson’s dying wife said in “Signs” (apparently, that information will help during an alien invasion, along with an asthma inhaler and a slip and slide–go ask MacGuyver).

Burgos was yet another rush job, brought onto the club with electric potential but a severe lack of training.  During these lean years of 2004 and 2005, the Royals brass seemingly decided to just pull players up from Double and Single-A, and just place washed-out former ballplayers in Omaha.  They thought Triple-A was for stalwarts such as Chris George, Joe McEwing (wasn’t he with The New Kids on the Block?), Denny Hocking, and Kerry Robinson, and Double-A was to be where “future stars” were plucked from and immediately inserted into a slot where most teams would want some form of seasoned production.  Triple-A?  No, we don’t need to use that for instruction.  Pretty ludicrous.  Bringing someone up from Double-A Wichita is pretty much the equivalent of hiring a middle school graduate for an entry-level position.  “Okay, this kid is a math wiz–he got a B+ in Pre-Algebra last year.  Electric stuff.  He still needs to learn how to balance a checkbook and not urinate when he talks to pretty girls, but I’m sure he’ll just pick that up on his own here in the real world.  If not, we’ll just fire him when he turns 16.”  I remember when we brought up Leo Nunez from A-ball and thinking, “Hey, if a zygote can play in the big leagues, why can’t I?”

Things are better now.  We’re far from the Burgos days.  Sure, it’s because of… well, because of a kid who jumped from Single-A into a major league bullpen, but hey, if you drill for oil on every stretch of land, I suppose you’ll eventually become a billionaire.  Thank goodness we signed Soria, our needle in a haystack, up long term.  If not, we might be stuck pulling some kid up from Burlington with a “nasty” change-up and an ERA that hover around 6.

That brings us to the end of my Worst Royals Line-Up of the Last 15 Years.  Man, that wore me out!  I’m glad we’re out of those sad, dismal, torture-inducing years where the Royals consistently had a losing record and were routinely 15 games out of first place by the end of July.  I’m glad that’s over wi… oh.  Well, at least Ruben Mateo isn’t batting fourth.  That’s something to hang your hat on, right?  Right?

What I want to do instead of compile a list of “worst relievers” is just throw a bunch of names at you.  I also don’t want to give a rundown of all of their failings, because, quite frankly, there are too many names.  You don’t want to read their wikipedia history; I don’t want to write their wikipedia history.  The point I want to make is that the list is long.  Other teams may have a long list, too, but as is often the case with the KC Royals, the list of shortcomings always seems to be at least a little bit longer than, say, the Indians, or the Diamondback, or the Blue Springs Wildcat JV squad.  And, also, to prove my point, I will not look up anyone on the Internet, solely using my memory of pitchers we had who once started (and who we highly touted) who ended up mopping up 9-2 games in the 6th inning. 

Everybody take a deep breath.  Here we goooooooooooo:

Mark Gardner, Chris Haney, Dan Reichert, Jeff Granger, Mark Gubicza (yeah, it happened), Jimmy Gobble, Zack Greinke (thank goodness he came out of it), Jose Rosado (Tony Muser–the early years), Jay Witasick, DJ Carrasco (bounced in and out), Leo Nunez (bounced as well), Mike MacDougal (a lot of bouncing), Jeremy Affeldt (bouncing poster boy), Brett Tomko, Dennis Tankersley, Dennis Rasmussen (my head really hurts now), Jeff D’Amico (Appier trade A), Blake Stein (Appier trade B), Mike Wood (Beltran trade throw-in), Kyle Snyder, Kyle Davies (coming soon–you heard it here first), Bobby Keppel (maybe–I’m just speculating now), Hipolito Pichardo (his name was awesome), Jeff Suppan (yeah, we did that with him, too), Miguel Ascencio, and so on, and so forth.

That’s a lot.  The thing is, I know I’m leaving a lot of crappy Royals out whose names I can’t remember, and, after spending so much time on baseball-reference, don’t wish to look up.  We shouldn’t have so much traffic in and out of the rotation.  It’s gotten a lot better lately (have to say that a lot with this overall topic of our last 15 years), but for a while, we didn’t seem to have boundaries.  There were very few starters.  Most other teams have at least 3 guys they’re more than comfortable touting as, at least, a starting pitcher.  There were years we only had, maybe, one.  Oh, and when Jose Rosado went into the Bermuda Triangle?  We didn’t have any.

Now, that year was the rotation of the damned, and that’s just isolating this list down to one season, not 15 incredible years of borderline negligence.  Here are the guys with the five most starts that season: Jeff Suppan, Mac Suzuki, Blake Stein, Chad Durbin, Jay Witasick.

That’s not a rotation–that’s a practical joke.  Are you kidding me?  Suppan’s the only one who should be starting a baseball game.  I know I criticize this team a lot for things in the past, but you have to do a lot of things wrong in order to get that rotation.  Oh, and all those pitchers from 2000?  They’ve all been in the bullpen.  Shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.

My point has drifted somewhat, if there was ever a point grander than our handling of the bullpen has been a joke.  I suppose it’s tough to put together a decent group of former starting pitchers when your rotation is littered with guys who should be former starting pitchers.  Remembering players like Brad Rigby, Brett Laxton, and Jay Witasick are the reasons I get giddy about the return of Leo Nunez and John Bale.  Dayton seems to be designating roles for his pitchers, and not just thinking that if they bomb out completely as a starter, we should automatically throw them in the pen.  Instead, we’ll automatically throw them in the dumpster.  The bullpen is no longer seen as some type of contract extension.  Now, they try to put people down there who can actually pitch.

Starting rotation: Runelvys Hernandez, Eduardo Villacis, Jeff Granger, Denny Bautista, and Jose Lima.

Yikes.  Lots of good picks here.  Gotta start with Hernandez, and man, was this one just disappointing.  Lil’ Elvis came on late in 2002, and put up some ridiculous numbers.  Along with Jeremy Affeldt, we were looking like we actually had young pitching that was developing.  Hernandez was the more explosive of the two, if I remember correctly.  The guy came out of nowhere and stymied hitters.  I remember feeling the same way about Jose Rosado, how no one knew anything about the man, and then, one day, he just showed up and pitched a fantastic game.  A few years later, Rosie disappeared after a rough start in Toronto, never to be seen again after suffering some arm injury.  Hernandez also suffered an arm injury (Tommy John surgery was required), but unfortunately, we saw that big guy again.

He was our opening day starter in 2003, looked like an ace for a month, and then was missing in action until around 2005 due to those arm troubles.  He came back for two more ineffective, inconsistent seasons.  Occasionally, he would pitch a real gem, and remind fans of all that confusion he caused hitters.  Other times, he would start fights with John Buck during games and throw fastballs at Carlos Guillen’s head… twice… in a row… and claim it was an accident… twice.  He appealed his suspension, to which Major League Baseball responded with a hearty laugh.  Appeal denied.  Following 2006, Hernandez was released.  He recently wound up in Houston’s rotation, replacing that guy who choke-slammed the Astro’s general manager, and gave up 9 runs in 4 innings, including the first career hits for 2 PITCHERS.  Pitchers.  He was then demoted.  GM Ed Wade tried to call choke-slam guy back (that part probably isn’t true).

Villacis has sort of become the known epitome of bad decisions with this club.  It’s 2004.  KC is down a starter for one game.  The game’s in New York, against the Yankees, in legendary Yankee Stadium.  The once promising season is quickly going down the toilet.  Fans are clamoring for then-super phenom Zack Greinke, “The Greink!”, but the organization says they don’t want to rush the kid.  Same with former young stud-turned-broken-shell-of-a-pitcher Jimmy Gobble.  So, in their time of need, who do the Royals call-up?  Eduardo Villacis. 

No one had heard of him–no one.  The guy wasn’t even on the Royals list of TOP 40 PROSPECTS–40!!!  The kid went undrafted in 1998.  He was called up from Double-A during his FIRST YEAR IN DOUBLE-A.  Thrown from Wichita to starting in Yankee Stadium, because,… well, because the organization said some nonsense about “not knowing to fear Yankee Stadium.”  You know, because he’s only played baseball his entire life.  I’m sure he has no idea what Yankee Stadium is.  He might think it’s an Avril Lavigne song.  He’s got no idea.

The numbers for the game?  Pitches 3 and 1/3rd of an inning, and gives up 5 runs.  Then, we sent him back down.  Then, we cut him.  Then, he never, ever, ever made it back to the major leagues.  Congratulations go out once again to the Kansas City Royals Make-a-Wish Foundation, for seemingly giving every Royals fan a chance to play for their hometown team!  Way to go!  Oh, and remember how they didn’t want to rush Zack Greinke?  Villacis pitched on May 1st, 2004.  Greinke was called up on May 24th, 2004.  I’m really glad gave Greinke those three weeks to find himself down in Wichita.  Really helped him out in 2006 (double kudos to Buddy Bell for leaving him in for that Arizona start where he gave up about 13 runs–great developing, guys).  Word to the wise: don’t ever let Allard Baird baby-sit your kids.  They’ll be in a walker by age 8.

Jeff Granger–the beginning of the end.  He was the number 5 overall pick in 1993, I believe.  This was the magnificent beginning of our draft day strategy of drafting only those we KNEW we could sign.  I could rattle names off the list.  We know the list.  Most of these number one picks are no longer playing baseball.  I think Dan Reichert might be playing for the “Surf Dogs,” but I might have that confused with his possible employment at Redondo Beach’s popular dog accessory store, also named “Surf Dogs.”

We signed Granger.  He came up and pitched for us that same year he was drafted, even though he’d only started 7 games in Single-A (they were probably good starts).  Then, he came up the next year, started 2 games, and was sent down to Omaha or Wichita to become a reliever.  Soon after that, he performed in the minors, and was rushed up to the big leagues (again) with his new position, and after 15 appearances, the organization washed their hands of Granger.  He was then sent to Pittsburgh with a young Joe Randa for Jay Bell and Jeff King. 

We had this kid, a two-sport stud, and brought him up THE SAME YEAR HE WAS DRAFTED.  We shuffled him not only between the big league club and Triple-A, and not only the big league club and Double-A, but THE BIG LEAGUE CLUB AND SINGLE-A?!!  THE SAME YEAR HE WAS DRAFTED?!!  AFTER SEVEN STARTS?!!  FOR A FREAKING SEPTEMBER CALL-UP?!!  This is why we haven’t developed a pitcher, guys.  We never know what to do with them.  We either shuffle them back and forth until they’re out of options and we have no idea what we’re dealing with, or we just let them rot down on the farm, not teaching them anything about the game–the real game.  Say what you will about Hochevar, but at least there were reasons behind his average numbers in Omaha–he was developing, learning what worked and what didn’t.  I don’t know if anyone taught Granger a darn thing, other than how to strike out some guy who was taken in the 24th round.  Take a look at Jeff Granger’s growing pains and you’ll know why this organization may never climb back up.

Bautista is Pedro Martinez’s cousin.  He had good “stuff,” but, unfortunately, he couldn’t pitch.  We put him in the rotation.  He couldn’t pitch.  He was ridiculously wild.  He couldn’t pitch.  He could throw a baseball and confuse a hitter or two the first time they saw him, but THE KID COULD NOT PITCH.  I believe we traded “The Snitch,” Jason Grimsley, for this guy, so it’s not a huge loss, but everyone went nuts for this kid after ONE GREAT START.  One.  He gave up one run to the Angels in 8 innings.  After that, kid couldn’t pitch.  Not a pitcher (have I hit home with this one yet?).

His delivery on every single pitch was different.  When there’s no rhythm and routine in your delivery, you’re going to get injured.  And, sure enough, he got tendinitis after seven starts.  He was never the same.  If we’d have scouted him more clearly, we could have seen that, despite all his nasty moments, he was never going to pitch.  The kid couldn’t pitch.

Jose Lima time–believe it!  He was obviously bad.  On a wing and a prayer, we brought him up in 2003 and he played really well for, like, 6 starts.  He got injured, wanted a contract in the off-season, but we passed.  Not a bad move.  He went to the Dodgers some point during the 2004 season, played pretty well, and won their only playoff game that year.  Then the Royals re-signed him.  They would have gotten him on borrowed time in 2004.  They got him after the expiration date in 2005.

2005 opening day starter Jose Lima.  His season?  A won-loss record of 5-16.  An ERA of 6.99.  One complete game.  He was out of gas.  He was done.  Was the signing that bad?  Honestly, no, it wasn’t.  He’d just come off a 5-hit, 1-run playoff win against the 2004 St. Louis Cardinals, which was one of the deadliest line-ups in all of baseball.  However, in the middle of a 5-16 season with an ERA that stayed around 7 all year, someone NEEDS to step in and say, “It’s time for you to leave.”  Lima started 32 games–32 freaking games!!  He didn’t get released, or sent to the bullpen, or even Triple-A.  He played 32 games; he started 32 games.  He played the whole, entire year, averaging a run given up every, what, 5 AT BATS?!!  He made it the entire year.  Jose Lima, you may not have won the Cy Young, but hey, congratulations on your perfect attendance ribbon.  Great work!

My brain just exploded.  How do you not release Jose Lima?  How do you not release Jose Lima?  How do you not release Jose Lima?  My head hurts; my brain hurts; my everything hurts.  But, hey, seriously, in all seriousness, seriously speaking… How do you not release Jose Lima?  I know his wife had HUGE breasts, but were they big enough to justify 16 losses and an ERA bigger than Dan Saleaumua?  Breasts will never be built big enough for that!

My point isn’t these guys specifically.  It’s that we keep having these same types of guys.  I could have substituted so many different guys in here.  Shawn Sedlacek, Jay Witasick, Dan Reichert, Jeff Austin, Blake Stein, and so on, and so forth.  They come down the line, every year, these guys who show up once every three years during a “down,” patchwork period for some other team, a spot starter for two games while the real pitcher rehabs in Double-A.  We keep finding these guys, signing them, and immediately placing them in the rotation, as if they’ve earned the spot, when, in all honesty, they haven’t earned anything.  It’s quite the opposite.  We have them because they just got canned.  Suddenly, we pick them up because, sure, they have great “stuff,” but they can’t pitch, and our pitching coach that particular year thinks he can fix them.  He might make some progress, until the coach gets let go the next year, and then we start from scratch with some brand new pitching coach who doesn’t know this pitcher who’s been left for dead.  He works with him a little, but time is short, and it’s Spring Training, and there are three other guys behind this guy with such great “stuff,” He’s working on some brand-new mechanics some stranger just advised to him, but still getting lit up in the process, and, before you know it, we’ve thrown this guy out, too, who was our number three starter the previous season.  It’s a vicious cycle we’re finally starting to get out of, the constant signing of damaged pitchers and shuffling of young players into and out of the majors.  I’ve seen this garbage for 15 years, and I can’t handle one more.  No more guys who can “throw.”  I want pitchers.

Apparently, he’s out of options, so I’m pretty sure something pretty sad is about to happen to Jimmy Gobble, and I wanted to say a few things.  Here goes:

Thank you for your two great years out of the bullpen, Jimmy.  Thank you for your first two promising starts your rookie year, back to back, against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.  Thank you for competing.  Thank you for that near-perfect game you took into the 7th or 8th inning in Toronto a few years back that we still lost something like 1-0 (again, for those of you that complain about our offense now, look at our 1-0 losses back in the mid-aughts).  Thank you for trying, Jimmy, and I hope you get back on track, I really do. 

I’m sorry we can’t have you on the team anymore.  I’m sorry you joined the Royals in the middle of seven pitching coaches in seven years.  I’m sorry you weren’t able to receive consistent feedback on your development.  I’m sorry we couldn’t teach you an out pitch while you were starting.  I’m sorry for whatever happened this year that got you off-track.  I’m sorry we sent you up and down so many times the last 5 years, stripping you of your minor league options.  I’m sorry we couldn’t hide you down there for the last two months, where you and Yabuta could be fishing for strikeouts together in Omaha.

Jimmy Gobble, I want you to know that I appreciate what you’ve given to this club, and the sacrifices you’ve made.  I’m sorry you won’t end your career a Kansas City Royal.  I wish you better luck with your next club.  I have one piece of advice, too: do not carry this with you.  You can move forward.  You can bounce back.  I know you’re a competitor.  Just forget this entire season and fight.

I’m going to miss Jimmy Gobble.  This really is a sad day.

Angel Berroa?  Were you expecting Angel Berroa?  I know, it’s the obvious choice.  Berroa was the “key” player in the Johnny Damon trade, the piece that made the trade look like it wasn’t a complete and unmitigated disaster.  For a while, Baird didn’t look too far off.  Berroa hit well in the minors, and people couldn’t stop talking about his defense.  He finally came up that magical 2003 season, played reasonably well, and stole Rookie of the Year honors from Hideki Matsui.  He followed that year up with three years of the worst shortstop play in baseball.  Year after year, we expected, then hoped, then just prayed that Berroa would get his hitting, power, speed, and common sense back, and, for some reason, he never did.  His skills completely diminished.  He even aged more than three years in that time (the organization learned Berroa was about 3 years older than his paperwork indicated).  So, our quick, young promising shortstop, became our slow, older, washed up middle infielder.

That said, he’s not on my list.  Nope.  Berroa put up numbers one season that warranted him being on a major league team.  Sure, he pulled a Pat Listach (oh, I went there), but he did prove that, at one point and time, he did belong here.  Did we wait too long at three years?  Yeah.  We did.  Still, there’s one shortstop who deserves this honor more than Luis Silverio’s son-in-law.  Fightin’ Felix Martinez, come on down!!!

Jay Bell was a Kansas City Royal for about 12 seconds.  Actually, it was about a year.  We traded Joe Randa and another guy who will show up later on my starting pitcher list (who could it be?) for Jeff King and Jay Bell.  Pretty incredible move, no?  Two old guys who were at their last great peak, traded to a team that wasn’t going anywhere.  It was 1997, and the Royals were not an unmitigated disaster yet–just bad.  Those were the years the Indians finished in first every season, and we traded places with the White Sox and the Twins for second place.  One year, we finished in second place and 25 games out of first place!  We were thiiiiiiis close, guys!  If we’d have had six more months, we could have closed that thing to 10 games, easy.

Sorry for drifting off-subject.  We traded for Jay Bell and Jeff King, and we also had Dean Palmer and Chili Davis.  This was an OLD team, and Jay Bell knew it.  We were renting him.  He hit for good power (better power than he’d averaged his whole career), played dependable defense (a notch down from his predecessor, the great Greg Gagne), and didn’t run out ground balls.  Despite not trying while wearing a bad team’s uniform, he was still instilled with the responsibility of coaching years later.  He managed to tell numerous Arizona Diamondbacks to try only if their team was good, and to build up unpredictable RBI stats if their team was bad, in order to increase their value in the market.  So, after a worthless one-and-done year from Jay Bell, we had to make somebody play shortstop.  His name was Felix Martinez.

If I told you that the Royals were going to start a shortstop who had never hit over .260 in five minor league seasons, and had made 128 errors in the last three seasons, would you believe me?  I wouldn’t believe me.  Even if I again said it was for the Kansas City Royals, I still wouldn’t believe me.  “That’s not possible,” I would say.  “All baseball teams have standards.  This is below what any team should field.  They should concede from Major League Baseball if this is true!”  Well, they didn’t concede, but it sure was true.  Opening day shortstop Felix Martinez.

Oh, and what a magical start to the season “ol’ Feelie” would give us (I’m sure Tony Muser called him “Feelie”–I know I would).  He played in 34 games, had 85 at bats, hit 5 RBIs, no home runs, stole 2 bases, made 6 errors, and batted .129.  I know what you think I just did, but no, that is not a typo.  He hit .129.  There was absolutely NO REASON to bring this kid up (common theme in this running blog, along with “The Mitchell Report”).  He had no place above Double-A–none.  This is a prime example of a lack of planning from high above.  You have Jay Bell.  You KNOW you’re not going to re-sign him.  He has hit himself out of your price range, and hasn’t shown the desire to want to stay even if you somehow, magically raised your offer (at the time, we had no owner, and we weren’t buying ANYBODY good).  You have a year to get somebody, ANYBODY, a stop gap, a young kid with promise (a young Angel Berroa-type), and instead, nothing happens, and you have to stroll out Felix Martinez, a shortstop who’s been in your minor league system for five years and has shown that 1)He can’t hit, 2)He can’t field, and 3)Consistent numbers, year after year, indicating that he will NEVER hit and NEVER field.  Like with Ruben Gotay, it’s just as if the team holds open tryouts.  Martinez was so special because he was so uniquely awful.  It’s a great trait.

There’s one more thing about Felix Martinez that I really, truly love.  He had a bit of a temper, and no one saw it until June of 1998.  This is really great.  You see, Mike Sweeney and then-Angels catcher Phil Nevin had a little beef about a play at the plate the previous year, and no one knew they settled it off the field (through lawyers, which is somewhat strange–does that mean there was lawsuit talk over a bulldog play?).  So, when the two teams lined up the next year, two Royals pitchers threw at Nevin.  Then, some Angels threw at some Royals.  Benches cleared.  It got a little out of hand.  Then, it got EXTREMELY out of hand when “ol’ Feelie,” who, mind you, had nothing to do with either the initial Sweeney-Nevin altercation or the beanballs thrown around that night, started punching anyone and everyone around him in the back of their heads.  He was throwing windmills and has butt got stomped.  It was shocking.  It looked like a riot.  Martinez, just running around, donnybrooking with whomever was closest to him and wearing red.

Manager Tony Muser got suspended for 8 games, and Felix Martinez got 5, which, now, doesn’t seem that fair.  It’s like punishing the prison guard with more time than the murderer he was watching.  Sure, a shiv got in, but the guy was so committed to homicide that he’s forfeited his entire freedom.  Think he might find a way to do it again if he really, really wants to?  How’s Tony Muser going to expect Martinez to start clocking people?  You can’t rationalize the insane if you’re, you know, sane.  After the incident, Martinez got sent down to the minors for a year and a half instead of, you know, just being cut.  They told him, “You’re not coming up until you prove you can behave, mister!”  That took a little less than two years.  Awesome.  Could have cut the guy during that time, but no, that was good, too.

When Martinez finally did get his September call-up in 1999, he immediately had to serve his old 5-game suspension from a year ago.  After that, he got a hit in 7 at bats, and was unceremoniously released from the team, due to a four-year-old memo from David Glass to the general manager reading, “Sorry for the late reply, but yeah, he sucks.  Please terminate his contract immediately.  Seriously, put him out of his misery, for God’s sake!”  Martinez played parts of two more seasons with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays (you know, before they were good), and played his final game in September of 2001.  Fightin’ Felix, welcome to the big list!  I hope you’re having fun sucker-punching random people.  Hopefully, they aren’t school children.

Next week, I’m going to wrap this sucker up with a few post on our astounding pitching staff–a rotation, some relievers, and a closer, because, as you may remember, our pitching hasn’t been all that great, either.  Any team with Jose Lima on their roster twice has got quite a few leaks to plug.  Check you gators, later.  I’m off to put ice on my swollen Royals memories.