The Roads Less Traveled, Part 2

Yankees and Red Sox Road Trip, July/August 2012: My then-wife and I were getting pretty adventurous with our vacations. We decided to spend a few days in New York, a few more days in Connecticut and end the trip with a few days in Boston. She wasn’t a big baseball fan, so you can imagine how surprised I was when she agreed to go to games at the new Yankee Stadium AND Fenway Park. Then again, marriage is all about compromise.

 

July 29: I proudly walked into Yankee Stadium wearing a Phillies shirt, expecting to get needled relentlessly by New York’s notorious fans. I was both disappointed and relieved that aside from one snide comment, I was completely left alone. The Yankees were hosting the Red Sox in a Sunday night ESPN game, so the tension and anticipation in the ballpark were palpable. I had always hated the Yankees, and I still do to this day, but something unexpected happened during the game. I got the sense that these fans, while abrasive and loud, loved their team and knew their team. It was a level of passion I hadn’t even felt at Phillies games. As the game began, I couldn’t help but notice the father and son who sat just to my left. The father was teaching his son about the players and what was happening on the field, just like my dad did two decades before. Though he and I were clearly on opposing sides, the father and I gained a mutual respect for one another as the game progressed. It went to extra innings with the Yanks and Sox deadlocked, 2-2, but my wife, her friend and I left after the ninth to avoid the subway rush after the game (the Sox would go on to win 3-2). As we got up from our seats and the father got up to let us pass, he and I actually engaged in a brief man hug and wished each other a good night. Here I was, embracing a Yankees fan at a Yankees game! It was actually the most positive fan interaction I’ve ever experienced with a stranger at a baseball game. That sure was a life lesson I’ll never forget.

August 2: The polar opposite occurred four days later in Boston, which is a shame because for years I’d dreamed of going to Fenway Park. The stadium itself was beautiful, but the hard seats were very uncomfortable, and the passionate vibe I’d felt at the Yankees game was replaced with bitterness. The Red Sox were in the midst of a disastrous season under manager Bobby Valentine, who lasted just that one year. The fans were not happy, and that contempt hung heavy around the ballpark. The Sox didn’t help, getting blanked 5-0 by the Twins, a team with a record even worse than Boston. My wife and I were so happy to get out of there. I used to like the Red Sox, especially when they stuck it to the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS, but this game began a turnaround in my thinking. I came the rest of the way after their sign stealing scandal and the fans hurling racial slurs at Orioles outfielder, Adam Jones. Now, I’m actually looking forward to my next trip to Yankees Stadium, but I don’t know if I’ll ever return to Fenway.

 

One final thing I will say about Yankee Stadium and Fenway is that traversing the interior of both is like walking through a museum. The venues pay wonderful homage to the long and celebrated histories of their franchises. They belong high on the bucket list of any serious fan.

August 24, 1997: Baltimore Orioles vs. Minnesota Twins

When I was 13, my parents helped me carve out my own little baseball world by giving me a 13-inch television for Christmas. During the remaining two years that my family lived in our third-story apartment in Little Italy, the TV sat haphazardly in the middle of my bedroom, sinking deeper and deeper into its foundation – the box it came in. However questionable the setup, that TV was freedom, an increasingly vital thing as I entered high school and adolescence. I could play my video games without distraction, and I could watch all the mature programming on HBO that would have sent my parents scrambling for the remote.

The TV also allowed me to watch baseball by myself and gain a deeper understanding. The father-son dynamic was still an important part of my passion for the game, but my dad didn’t follow the sport outside of the Phillies, and the team’s performance in 1996 further encouraged me to branch out. That’s when I remembered that Baltimore Orioles games were broadcast on Channel 2 (long before the launch of the Mid-Atlantic Sports Network, a.k.a. MASN). It also helped that Phillies players Todd Zeile and Pete Incaviglia were traded to Baltimore in late August.

The onset of Interleague Play was still a year away, so my only knowledge of the American League came from my baseball card collection. My dad harbored an intense dislike for the Junior Circuit ever since it instituted the Designated Hitter in 1973. To this day, he roots for the National League in both the All-Star Game and the World Series.

After a few days of watching the O’s, I didn’t mind seeing a little extra offense, and that 1996 Baltimore lineup was something special. The Orioles bashed their way to their first playoff appearance since they beat the Phillies in the 1983 World Series. I was quickly in awe of this team that featured eight players with more than 20 home runs*, four with 100 runs scored and four with 100 RBI. The O’s set an all-time record for home runs hit by a team in a single season with 257 (the 1997 Seattle Mariners promptly surpassed that total with 264, a mark that still stands).

This squad was bursting with All-Star names like Roberto Alomar, Bobby Bonilla, Eddie Murray, Rafael Palmeiro and the Iron Man himself, Cal Ripken, Jr. All eyes in the baseball world were on Ripken the year before when he broke Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games played streak, and he was arguably the most respected player in the game. His presence alone made this an easy group to like. Though I maintained throughout this period that the Phillies were still my favorite team, by the end of the ’96 season I was a full-fledged Orioles fan.

My dad never took the traitorous plunge with me, but he supported it. And so the following season, we made plans to see a game at Camden Yards, which was only an hour south of us. We caught the O’s at their absolute best. They didn’t come close to matching their prodigious offensive numbers from the previous year, but the starting and relief pitching dominated, and the Orioles pulled off a rare feat, staying in first place every day of the 1997 season.

My major league ballpark experience had been limited to a facility two decades behind the times. The moment I laid eyes on Oriole Park at Camden Yards in all its retro-classic splendor, I knew this was what a baseball stadium was supposed to look like. The red brick on the outside glowed in the sunlight. The park was only five years old and felt like it had just opened upon our arrival. Nestled between the stadium and the B&O Warehouse, Eutaw Street popped with excitement. The sounds of the game from shouting vendors to laughing children fit so much better here than Veterans Stadium.

And the beautiful field. Watching the players go through their pre-game warm-ups as nature intended, with natural grass sparkling beneath them, it made me wonder, “Who in God’s name ever thought Astroturf was a good idea for this sport?”

A few days before, I informed my dad that we needed to arrive at the stadium earlier than we ever had for a game because I was determined to get autographs from all the Orioles players for whom I had baseball cards. I came armed with all of the cards and a pen. Alas, Ripken was the only player who came over to sign the fans’ various paraphernalia. What my dad and I thought was an early arrival was still too late as it turned out. Ripken had already been there for a while by the time I forced my way to the front of the pack. I desperately held out my hand with the card and pen amongst dozens of other hands. Ripken headed back to the dugout a minute or two later. Though my mission went unfulfilled, it was exhilarating standing that close to a legend.

The legend was growing literally every day. Nearly two years after beating Gehrig’s streak, Ripken had still not missed a game. My dad and I saw game No. 2,443 – Ripken would end the streak himself the following year at 2,632 – and it also happened to be the Iron Man’s 37^th birthday.

For the first and only time in my life, I bought a program and kept score of the game from the stands. I had kept score from home several times and I decided to emulate the more technically-minded fans I occasionally witnessed at games. Plus, the Phillies and Orioles amazingly won every game I scored to this point (a streak that held for another two years), so I wanted to see if the good luck would transfer live. I quickly discovered, however, that grabbing the program and pen and carefully placing it on my seat every time I jumped up to cheer, an often occurrence in this game, was more hassle than it was worth.

The O’s jumped out to an early lead against the Minnesota Twins with some help from the birthday boy. Ripken was a dead duck at home plate on a fielder’s choice, but he somehow avoided the tag. The Orioles also clubbed three home runs, one of which came off the mighty bat of Palmeiro, prompting the loudest cheer of the day from me.

Truth be told, “Raffy” was my favorite Oriole. Ripken brought the longevity and the clout, but Palmeiro brought the swag. He seemed to come through with a big hit every time he stepped to the plate, and I loved his long, effortless swing. This was, of course, years before the legitimacy of Palmeiro’s power surge in the latter half of his career came into serious question. He was a slugger to idolize at a time when the Phillies had none.

The Orioles beat the Twins 5-1 to maintain their chokehold on the AL East. It would be the last time in 10 years that a team not named the New York Yankees won the division.

I look back on my two years as an O’s fan with almost as much nostalgia as I do for the ’93 Phillies. I shamelessly confess to my front-running ways as an unwise teenager. Besides, now that my wife and I make our home in Baltimore, and our children will probably grow up rooting for the Orioles, I can easily forgive myself.

Note: This would not be my last time getting up close and personal with Ripken. I happened upon him at a fundraising awards banquet in Baltimore in November 2012. I didn’t know beforehand that he would be there, so I obviously had nothing for him to sign, but it meant more to me to shake his hand and tell me how great of player he was.

The following month, I ate my cake, too. For Christmas, my wonderful wife got me a baseball signed by Ripken after the Orioles won the World Series in 1983. It was his only title during his two decades with the O’s. It’s a shame it had to come against my Phillies, but considering I was only a year old at the time, I didn’t have much to say about it.

 *Orioles center fielder and leadoff hitter Brady Anderson thrilled fans and analysts alike in 1996 by hitting 50 home runs, 26 more than he managed in any other season in his career. His single-season mark remained an Orioles record until Chris Davis broke it in 2013 with 53 bombs.

Holy Cow!

The final day of the 2011 regular season was shaping up to be an epic one, but I could not have scripted a better finish if I tried.

Here was the sequence of events:

The Orioles down to their last strike, Nolan Reimold clocks a Jonathan Papelbon heater into right center for a ground-rule RBI double to tie the game. Robert Andino follows with a line shot that falls just under the glove of a diving Carl Crawford, allowing Reimold to score the winning run.

After the celebration in Baltimore between first and second base, I switch over to the Yankees-Rays game in the bottom of the 12th inning. With the count even at 2-2, Evan Longoria shoots a laser that barely clears the left-field wall, punching Tampa Bay's ticket to the postseason.

Need we any greater examples of baseball's magnificence?

In both of the games mentioned above, the victor did not own a lead until the very last pitch, and each one was a strike away from defeat.

In the National League, the Phillies' 4-3, 13-inning win over the Braves knocked them out of the playoffs after the Cardinals' 8-0 win over the Astros earlier in the day.

Baseball is full of historic late-season collapses, but 2011 earned its distinction with a pair of breakdowns in the Wild Card race. Atlanta and Boston each entered the final month of the season with a lead of more than 8 games in the Wild Card standings, but by the 162nd game they fell into ties with St. Louis and Tampa Bay, respectively. Such an occurrence was crazy enough, and it seemed as if at least one of the two races would result in a 163rd contest.

The walk-off gods were having none of that.

In the end, the baseball universe righted itself. After all, a team that opens the season 2-10 isn't supposed to make the playoffs (only three teams ever have), and it's no surprise that Crawford, who was very un-Crawford-like during his first season in Beantown, failed to make the play that sealed the Red Sox' fate.

But hand it to the Cardinals and Rays for playing their butts off in September after wallowing in mediocrity for much of the year. These are the kind of late surges that lead to world championships.

Speaking of hot finishes, I need to give props to the O's, who I still consider my second favorite major league team. They closed out the season with 11 wins in their last 17 games, and turned Boston's mighty roar atop the AL East into a whimper in that final series. Say what you want about the 14 consecutive losing seasons, but there's no sweeter ending than a walk-off win over the Red Sox. Hero Andino put it best:

"End the season like this, [to] make Boston go home sad, crying, I'll take it all day."

Take it all winter, guys.

Sometimes, it just takes one

No one will argue that leadership is a vital component for any team in any sport, but after a successful season or a championship run, you will never see a coach or manager crediting him/herself. Even for the best teams, particularly in a 162-game Major League Baseball season, the randomness of the game takes hold. A few lucky bounces can make the difference in key games, and no one person will affect the outcome all that much.

However, so often in the game we see the acquisition of a new coach or a new player, and it's like someone flicked on the light switch. Guys who weren't hitting are suddenly scalding the ball, and pitchers who couldn't throw strikes are suddenly getting everyone out. What's the big change?

Any major league player will tell you that baseball is 95 percent mental. If your mind isn't going the right way, you're not going to perform. That's why you often see managers and coaches getting replaced in the middle of a long slump. If it's the overall atmosphere that's causing the failure, then maybe a change in personnel will create a winning mentality.

So far, the changes are helping the Phillies and Orioles. Since Philadelphia fired hitting coach Milt Thompson and brought in Greg Gross, the team has gone 17-5, while Baltimore is 9-4 since the hiring of new manager Buck Showalter.

When Showalter entered the picture, the Orioles sported the worst record in baseball and had long abandoned the pipe dream of contending down the stretch. Their main problem - as has been the case for a decade - was lack of starting pitching. Three starters in the rotation had double-digit losses, and Jeremy Guthrie was the only one with an ERA below 5. He also led the rotation in victories with four.

Since no-nonsense Buck took the reigns, Baltimore is not looking so lost. The team rattled off nine wins in 11 games, seven of which were on the road. Over that stretch, the starters went 6-1 with an ERA under 3. If the Orioles stay on their present course, they'll achieve their first month with a winning record since June 2008.

Showalter has a reputation for bringing a sense of order to teams with no direction, like the New York Yankees teams of the early 1990s and the brand new Arizona Diamondbacks a few years later. He's not telling the Orioles how to hit or pitch, but as Guthrie explained, he's helped change their mentality.

"It's not a coincidence that we've turned it around since Buck showed up," he said. "He hasn't done anything necessarily different to make us win games, but we know what he expects. No magic formula, but maybe a kind of a good shift for us in gears."

The Philadelphia Phillies offense was in dire need of a shift in gears early in the second half. The hitters had been stuck in neutral for the better part of the season, and the team went 2-6 on its road trip after the All-Star Break, falling six games behind the Atlanta Braves in the division.

With injuries suffered to nearly every position player at different points in the year, the team was in uncharted territory, and management felt someone needed to take the blame. Thompson had guided a healthy offense through two trips to the World Series, but he was apparently ill-equipped to help the hitters adjust to so many injuries.

Since Gross took over hitting instruction, the offense has kicked it into high gear, averaging 5.2 runs per game, more than a run better than it managed under Thompson since mid-May. What's more impressive is that the team continued to hit after losing Ryan Howard and Shane Victorino.

While the Phillies are the ones hitting and not Gross, he probably helped bring them a fresh perspective. During last night's game against the Mets, Gross said he tried to focus on the differences hitters displayed when they were hot or in a slump - whether it's a difference in stance at the plate or their swing - and remind them of those changes whenever they weren't hitting well. Gross basically described the job of every hitting coach, but the Phillies must like what he has to say.

Now if Gross could unlock the mystery of how to hit when Roy Halladay and Cole Hamels are pitching, then we'd really be in business.