My home internet has been on the fritz for a couple of days and didn't get fixed until a couple of hours ago, so maybe I'm a little late on this by web standards, but it seems that Shannon over at MetsPolice--whose work I otherwise adore, of course--is still playing a defeatist game of "What if?" in regards to Johan Santana's no-hitter one year ago tonight.
I began typing this response in the MetsPolice comment section, but as I realized a) it was getting a little long-winded, and b) sadly, I haven't been this fired up about anything Mets-related for a while, I decided it belonged better here. So without any further ado, here's my response:
Stuff happens.
The greatest orthopaedic surgeon on the planet said the injury was of a degenerative nature. Given that, it didn't matter if Santana made those 134 pitches all on one night or spread them out over 4 different starts. They were going to be thrown, and the injury was going to happen eventually, sooner rather than later, at that. The clock was honestly ticking before he even threw his first bullpen at Spring Training.
To that same end, he suffered the very same injury the first time around without any complete-game no-hitter around to take the blame. It's kinda hard to say "a" leads to "b" when "b" has already occurred once before without "a." Clearly, something about the way Johan Santana throws just isn't conducive to a healthy anterior capsule over time. For all we know, it may be the very same thing that made him a two-time Cy Young Award winner, albeit one with a somewhat disappointingly early expiration date.
You can't say Collins left him in too long and let him throw beyond a reasonable point of fatigue--thus contributing to more stress on the capsule--either. Santana's fastball during the last out was only a whopping 1 mph slower than the one Beltran hit down the line in the 6th. That is in no way indicative of someone whose rotator cuff has run out of gas.
All that out of the way, let me make a more general and more raw statement as a fan. Let's assume just for kicks that the no-hitter is what caused the injury and quite likely ended Santana's career (which it wasn't, btw).
Give me a choice between a) watching Johan Santana or any other pitcher throw a complete game no-hitter at age 33 or b) watching him hope to make it through the 5th inning on a good day as he continues to stay "healthy" into his 40s, and I will without hesitation choose the no-hitter. Every. Single. Time.
Nobody is going to pitch (or play any other position, for that matter) forever. The nature of professional sports is that careers are fleeting, and as a fan, it's all about quality, not quantity. If anyone honestly believes there is a single start Johan Santana could've possibly made this season that would have a prayer of being bigger than the one he already made a year ago, they're nuts. If his time with the Mets ending one year earlier was the price of the first no-hitter in the history of the team (which it wasn't, btw), then so be it. It was totally worth it.
Showing posts with label no-hitter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no-hitter. Show all posts
11 June 2012
A quick look at some no-hitter merchandise
Often, on a quiet Sunday while the game is on, I'll browse ebay for Mets merchandise or, as is often the case, really screwed up merchandise, but this weekend, I was on mets.com and happened to notice the ad directing folks to the special "Santana no-hitter" page of the MLB shop.
As you should always expect, some of the merchandise is downright mundane (everyday Santana jerseys and tees in no way actually commemorating the no-hitter), and the rest runs the gamut from classy to creepy. What follows isn't at all a complete overview of every item, just a few notes on some I found interesting for whatever reason.
Caps:
Personally, I find the whole "No-han" thing kind of cheesy, but beyond that, I suppose neither of these is particularly good or bad. If someone were to give me one of these, I doubt I'd ever wear it.
As you should always expect, some of the merchandise is downright mundane (everyday Santana jerseys and tees in no way actually commemorating the no-hitter), and the rest runs the gamut from classy to creepy. What follows isn't at all a complete overview of every item, just a few notes on some I found interesting for whatever reason.
Caps:
Personally, I find the whole "No-han" thing kind of cheesy, but beyond that, I suppose neither of these is particularly good or bad. If someone were to give me one of these, I doubt I'd ever wear it.
The (just plain) "No-hitter Adjustable Cap"
This one, I like. The logo is sharp, and the signature is a nice touch. It gets the point across without being loud, and there's no forced attempt at being witty.
Plaques:
If apparel isn't your preferred way of commemorating a historic, stat-based event, there's a nice selection of things to hang on your wall, including:
OK, this thing is awesome. An action pic, a shot of the scoreboard, and a notated linescore. Classy, classy, classy. Had I not already invested in some other memorabilia quickly after the game (more on that later), I'd probably get one of these. If I happen upon one on ebay years from now, I'll probably make a run at it.
The perfect way to let everyone know you were there on that magic night when the no-hitter drought finally ended (or got on the internet and spent $50 for a reprint, anyway).
Good idea, bad execution. First off, if you read the full description the piece of a "game-used" baseball mounted into the collage isn't necessarily from that game, just "a New York Mets regular season game."
Secondly, the centerpiece photo appears to be a mini-Johan bursting through the abdomen of a full-sized Johan as orange blood splatters everywhere. All I can think of when I look at this plaque is that infamous scene from Alien.
02 June 2012
Our Team, Our Time: Reflections on the No-No
Now I believe there comes a time
When everything just falls in line
We live and learn from our mistakes
The deepest cuts are healed by faith
-All Fired Up, Pat Benatar, 1984 (Twain/Sabu)
The number loomed over the franchise like a giant, frustrating shadow: 8,019 games without a no-hitter. Despite teams of Miracles, games readily identified by a single-digit number, and eras of baseball Like it Oughta Be, that one particular baseball feat continued to elude the Mets for 5 full decades.
The lists have always been well-circulated: 6 former Mets had thrown no-hitters (including the all-time leader in the feat), 10 no-hitters had been thrown by Mets-to-be. One pitcher (Hideo Nomo) even has a spot on both lists. But until last night, despite all the talent on the mound over the years, despite 2 World Championships, 4 pennants, 5 division winners, and 2 wild card teams, this one--THIS ONE, the one with owners accused of being small-market, the one led by an ace coming off an ominous surgical procedure, the one marked nightly by a rag-tag, injury-riddled lineup--is the one that finally led the Mets to the promised land. For a franchise raised as "Amazin'" loveable losers turned miracle weavers, it was wonderfully poetic.
No one knows how far this crew is going to take things, but there's no arguing that this is the most likeable group of Mets in recent memory. At the center of the show, of course, is Santana, the soul of the team who's riveted us with numerous displays of sheer guts since his arrival, often with very little in the way of return in the end. Add to that an outfield brimming with subs, a stop-gap shortstop, a second baseman who supposedly could never play the position, and a first baseman with a lost year under his belt and the threat of being sent to Buffalo hanging over his head. Yet, there they are, one game out to start July. As cliche as it sounds, they by all measures are a humble, hard-working group that takes nothing for granted.
Sure, I would've loved to see a no-hitter back in the Doc & Darryl days. It would have been wonderful to see Robin Ventura throw one across the diamond to John Olerud to make the last of 27 straight outs. But to have this happen when it did, with whom it did on the field, just adds that much more to the magic of the moment.
After the game, Santana repeatedly made reference to the franchise's history and his knowing what it would mean to the fans to complete a no-hitter. That sentiment was echoed by every one of his teammates when presented with an opportunity state it. What we witnessed last night were a pitcher and his team willing themselves into history.
I can't imagine what it must have been like in Citi Field, because even from the front of a TV screen 1200 miles away, it was obvious we were witnessing 9 guys playing not just for themselves, but for their pitcher, their other teammates, 27,000 in the stands, and even some schmuck knocking on 40 in a blue BP jersey not daring to leave his recliner until the last out was recorded.
I can't help but wonder: would this particular game on this particular night have come out differently if there were a $150 million payroll on the field? I mean, sure, we all hope these guys retire with a few rings with a Mets logo on them, but would a more experienced squad with higher-profile names have handled the game the same way they did? Would it have meant the same to that hypothetical team as it did to the one that fate actually placed there? I don't mean to suggest that anyone in MLB intentionally loafs with a no-hitter on the line, but last night was the perfect environment for a plucky bunch that by necessity goes all-out every night and never quits.
Let's be honest, Mike Baxter isn't making "Carl Crawford money." Chances are he won't ever. Making a balls-out catch to save the first no-hitter in Mets history very well may be the moment for which he's forever remembered. Even in the deepest recesses of his subconscious, he's thinking, "Screw my shoulder, my head, or any other body part. This ball cannot hit the ground."
And somehow, it only got better after the game. Santana telling reporters he'd never even thrown a no-hitter in a video game and modestly showering his teammates with credit. Terry Collins near tears, knowing if there are any ill effects on Santana's arm, he'll never forgive himself for not being the detached, wise old man who made a tough decision for his pitcher's own good. Childhood-Mets-fan-turned face-of-the-franchise David Wright's crack about manicuring the ground around 3rd. R.A. Dickey being his usual eloquent self in describing the gravity of the moment.
As great as a baseball moment last night's game was, in true Mets fashion, it was an even better human moment. It may not have been a perfect game, but it was a perfect example of what keeps fans glued to this utterly maddening franchise. Sure, you may find yourself banging your head on the wall for years on end, but when the payoff does come, it delivers in spades.
When everything just falls in line
We live and learn from our mistakes
The deepest cuts are healed by faith
-All Fired Up, Pat Benatar, 1984 (Twain/Sabu)
The number loomed over the franchise like a giant, frustrating shadow: 8,019 games without a no-hitter. Despite teams of Miracles, games readily identified by a single-digit number, and eras of baseball Like it Oughta Be, that one particular baseball feat continued to elude the Mets for 5 full decades.
The lists have always been well-circulated: 6 former Mets had thrown no-hitters (including the all-time leader in the feat), 10 no-hitters had been thrown by Mets-to-be. One pitcher (Hideo Nomo) even has a spot on both lists. But until last night, despite all the talent on the mound over the years, despite 2 World Championships, 4 pennants, 5 division winners, and 2 wild card teams, this one--THIS ONE, the one with owners accused of being small-market, the one led by an ace coming off an ominous surgical procedure, the one marked nightly by a rag-tag, injury-riddled lineup--is the one that finally led the Mets to the promised land. For a franchise raised as "Amazin'" loveable losers turned miracle weavers, it was wonderfully poetic.
No one knows how far this crew is going to take things, but there's no arguing that this is the most likeable group of Mets in recent memory. At the center of the show, of course, is Santana, the soul of the team who's riveted us with numerous displays of sheer guts since his arrival, often with very little in the way of return in the end. Add to that an outfield brimming with subs, a stop-gap shortstop, a second baseman who supposedly could never play the position, and a first baseman with a lost year under his belt and the threat of being sent to Buffalo hanging over his head. Yet, there they are, one game out to start July. As cliche as it sounds, they by all measures are a humble, hard-working group that takes nothing for granted.
Sure, I would've loved to see a no-hitter back in the Doc & Darryl days. It would have been wonderful to see Robin Ventura throw one across the diamond to John Olerud to make the last of 27 straight outs. But to have this happen when it did, with whom it did on the field, just adds that much more to the magic of the moment.
After the game, Santana repeatedly made reference to the franchise's history and his knowing what it would mean to the fans to complete a no-hitter. That sentiment was echoed by every one of his teammates when presented with an opportunity state it. What we witnessed last night were a pitcher and his team willing themselves into history.
I can't imagine what it must have been like in Citi Field, because even from the front of a TV screen 1200 miles away, it was obvious we were witnessing 9 guys playing not just for themselves, but for their pitcher, their other teammates, 27,000 in the stands, and even some schmuck knocking on 40 in a blue BP jersey not daring to leave his recliner until the last out was recorded.
I can't help but wonder: would this particular game on this particular night have come out differently if there were a $150 million payroll on the field? I mean, sure, we all hope these guys retire with a few rings with a Mets logo on them, but would a more experienced squad with higher-profile names have handled the game the same way they did? Would it have meant the same to that hypothetical team as it did to the one that fate actually placed there? I don't mean to suggest that anyone in MLB intentionally loafs with a no-hitter on the line, but last night was the perfect environment for a plucky bunch that by necessity goes all-out every night and never quits.
Let's be honest, Mike Baxter isn't making "Carl Crawford money." Chances are he won't ever. Making a balls-out catch to save the first no-hitter in Mets history very well may be the moment for which he's forever remembered. Even in the deepest recesses of his subconscious, he's thinking, "Screw my shoulder, my head, or any other body part. This ball cannot hit the ground."
And somehow, it only got better after the game. Santana telling reporters he'd never even thrown a no-hitter in a video game and modestly showering his teammates with credit. Terry Collins near tears, knowing if there are any ill effects on Santana's arm, he'll never forgive himself for not being the detached, wise old man who made a tough decision for his pitcher's own good. Childhood-Mets-fan-turned face-of-the-franchise David Wright's crack about manicuring the ground around 3rd. R.A. Dickey being his usual eloquent self in describing the gravity of the moment.
As great as a baseball moment last night's game was, in true Mets fashion, it was an even better human moment. It may not have been a perfect game, but it was a perfect example of what keeps fans glued to this utterly maddening franchise. Sure, you may find yourself banging your head on the wall for years on end, but when the payoff does come, it delivers in spades.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)