STOP MAKING SENSE

My wife almost never drinks tequila with me anymore. But last night, in observance of not only my birthday but also the 4K re-issue of the Talking Heads concert movie masterpiece Stop Making Sense, she joined me for a shot of the Cabin’s worst.

It’s a bit of a stretch to call it a tradition, but it is an absolutely true fact that agave has played a role in the respective movies of us watching that movie. In 1985—separately– we both attended one of those fabled showings at the Fairhaven Picture Show a year after SMS was originally released. High on tequila. She prefunking with Bruce at her apartment above the Prudent Penny; me at Mark’s cabin in Mud Bay with a fifth of Two Fingers when it still came in the black bottle.

The film was great, of course. Same as it ever was…

It was also actually nice to have a day off from baseball. This year, my birthday fell on the MLB taint between the regular season and the post. The one quiet day on which no games are played.

To be honest, Sunday was a day off from baseball for me, too– even though all teams played. I’m a fan of the Seattle Mariners and I almost never don’t listen to their game on the radio. But I didn’t on Sunday– even though it was one of only two games that meant anything on the last day of the season. To be clear, it didn’t mean anything to the Mariners, as they had been detached from post-season consideration only hours before in a Saturday night stinker before a sold-out crowd at T-Mobile Park. They were in fact that last team to be slapped with a scarlet E– and the Texas Rangers celebrated their own playoff berth between the mound and first base as Mariner fans furiously wadded up their scorecards and tossed them on the ground next to the trash can because the trash can was already filled over the brim with other wadded up dreams and there wasn’t any room left on top for even one more tiny ball of paper with the 2023 on it.

E stands for elimination.

Saturday night’s contest wasn’t particularly high on drama, that last meaningful game. Its final score (1-6) and the Mariners’ ultimate fate (E) didn’t sneak up on us this September, after all. It’s been that kind of stretch run– a slow, seeping bleed.

No sir– the egg laid by the Mariners Saturday night with the season literally on the line shouldn’t have surprised anyone– it was merely the latest failure in a stretch dripping with eggyweg.

The club was in 1^st place atop the American League West on September 1^st after an historic August. They then proceeded to go 11-17 the rest of the way, and 3 of those wins came against the remains of the Oakland A’s. September was a test not only of the physical stamina it takes to survive a 162-game baseball season– it was also a measure of heart. High-character teams rally late in a game or a season; lesser clubs swing and miss…

Aaron said he was glad just to have a pulse at this point in the year. I said a pulse wasn’t much consolation when we’ve been promised a boner for ten years.

JUST WAIT TILL LAST YEAR

The 2022 season was a riot, of course– and a very high bar indeed. Making the playoffs for the first time in more than two decades was intoxicating, and actually advancing in them was even wilder. The mid-October division-round shiv thrust into the Mariners’ ribcage by the reviled Houston Astros was heartbreaking, and I genuinely missed a lot of those dudes during the long, cold offseason.

But this year was a stone drag and it’s confounding to ponder the reasons why. It’s not merely failure to make the post-season. The record was only two wins shy of what felt like a championship romp last year. So what was the difference?

On-paper, with few exceptions, the 2022 Mariners and the club currently vacationing were laid out very similarly: great pitching, bloodless offense, good defense, bad baserunning. Bit players come and go. But for the most part, the leading roles on this team were played by the same guys as last year.

The difference in the two seasons isn’t something that necessarily shows up on baseballstatsuptheass.com. And it doesn’t necessarily have everything to do with talent (though it may have something to do with effort, or at least how that effort is applied). In a word, I guess, the team in 22 (and 21 for that matter) had soul. Call it magic, voodoo or even luck if you want. But this year’s team didn’t have no rhythm, if you ask me.

It’s easy to explain away rhetorical inquisitions or statistical anomalies when discussing baseball, because you can always just say ‘that’s baseball.’ It’s like saying ‘infinity’ or ‘because I said.’ It simply can’t be argued:

Q) How does the best team in the sport lose even one game to the worst?

A) That’s baseball

Q) How can a team win nearly every close game one year and lose them all the next?

A) That’s baseball

Q) If there is a God, why do little kids get leukemia?

A) That’s baseball

Last season, we M’s fans got to do a lot of knee-slapping when saying that’s baseball, going 36-24 in games decided by one run or in extra innings. This year we were 29-32 including a dismal 6-14 in extras. Very few hardy-hars this year in close games. This team just did not have the same nose for late-inning money. It’s thrilling to win games late and often makes a team seem better than they actually are. But losing late sucks a big one and certainly makes a team seem worse. Shrugging and saying that’s baseball only goes so far…

THE BLAME GAME

Last year I blamed manager Scott Servais for the Mariners not winning the World Series, specifically for what I saw as his mis-management of the bullpen in the post. (My shrill and indulgent rant is still available for review by scrolling down a few lines and I won’t re-torture anyone here). I haven’t softened on my position re: Servais and would still fire him right now if I weren’t too drunk to drive down there and do it in person. Scott didn’t have a post-season bungle this year, so a true comparison with last season really isn’t possible. But he’s a fuckin’ bum and a poor motivator, or else his team would not have had a losing record in close games.

Who I do blame this October is the despicable cretin Jerid Kelenic. I’ve always regarded him as an insincere twat– a douchebag prima of the primest order. Understandably, he’s never seemed very popular with his teammates, and I was surprised when he wasn’t moved at the deadline last year– but there must not have been much of a market for him at the time. To his credit, he came into spring training with what appeared to be not only an overhauled swing but also a new attitude. He spoke at length with the media about having worked on his mind and spirit as much as his body during the off-season, and he seemed to have an almost zen-like approach to hitting that translated almost immediately to success at the plate. Instead of striking out swinging for the parking lot, he was making contact and taking the ball the other way. The hits piled up and eventually the power followed. On April 12 he hit a bomb half-way to Cleveland in a 5-2 victory over the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field.

Though he’d cooled off by late June, he was still producing and playing a serviceable left field. But then came the 9^th-inning 9-pitch at-bat against Minnesota closer Jhoan Duran on July 19. With two runners on and the Mariners trailing by 3, Kelenic struck out swinging before returning to the dugout and kicking a Gatorade cooler, breaking a bone in his foot which would sideline him for 7 weeks. The team was at .500 at the time with a record of 47-47.

But here’s the telling part: instead of buckling, the Mariners responded by going on their best run of the season. They shut the Twins out 5-0 the next day before embarking on an impressive 34-17 tear which included two separate 8-game win streaks and the 21-win August. Once Kelenic returned to the lineup on September 15, the club went 6-9 and looked bad doing it.

How is that not a curse?

MAKE THE GRADE

Now that I’ve complained about shit I don’t truly understand– firing a guy with 50 years in the business and waiving one of the club’s prized prospects, I will hand down judgement the rest of the organization. SKIP TO RECIPE.

Ty France. What on Earth happened to Ty France this year? Don thinks he was just too fat, and it did seem as though he’d put on one or two. But he played well in the field and was

much more durable than last year, appearing in 158 games. His performance at the plate was a huge disappointment, however, after being such a reliable bat in 2022. He didn’t walk, he didn’t hit in the clutch and he didn’t homer. All other meaningful numbers were way down, too– except for Hit-by-Pitch which soared from a team-leading 21 last year to a gaudy 34 this season, the most in the major leagues by far. C minus

 Teoscar Hernández. The loss of Mitch Haniger in the off-season stung me at first, but the truth was that he hadn’t been on the field much in 2022– a trend that continued this season in his new venue of San Francisco. Teo by contrast was dependable, playing in 160 games for the Mariners. And even though he struck out way too much, he did post 26 homers which was the second-highest total of his career. Plus that face-first catch he made during the last homestand was bold AF. He’s a free agent in the off-season and guess I hope the club finds a way to keep him. B plus

Starting Pitching. Pitching has been the strength of this team for a long time, and this season was no different. The rotation, including ace Luis Castillo, didn’t finish particularly strong, unfortunately. But the starters were what kept them in the games they won and the future continues to look bright with the emergence of Bryce Miller & Brian Woo and the maturation of George Kirby & Logan Gilbert. There’s no telling whether Marco or Bobby will return, or what the farm will produce. But this season’s rotation was an improvement over the solid starting class of last year, and that is saying something. A minus

The Pen. If the starting rotation was 15% better this year, the bullpen equalized it. Still a solid group and a strength of the club, the pen wasn’t as deep or dynamic as in 2022. When closer Paul Sewald was dealt to Arizona at the deadline for three no-names, I was the only person I knew to say good riddance. I’d been totally grossed out by his pre-game ‘exit’ interview with Shannon Drayer two days earlier in which he declared himself better than Dennis Eckersley, practically referring to himself in the third person. Fuck that guy I said at the time. I thought Andres Muñoz was ready to step into the alpha role and that Matt Brash would fill in behind as the set-up guy. Turns out I was mistaken, and Muñoz was not automatic as the closer, struggling with his control and demonstrating a vulnerability not previously visible. And as much as Topa, Spier and Saucedo rose to their respective challenges, they weren’t no Murphy, Festa and Steckenrider. B plus

Julio. This should probably be a separate essay, but I’ll try and keep my comments brief. I could not agree more with Matt that the impatience with which the club– and the league for that matter– have rammed Julio Rodríguez down our throats is an outrage. Baseball is desperate for fresh, fly grinners to grow (or at least maintain) its long declining fan base. And I’m delighted that we have a promising multi-tool player to hang some future on. But he’s been rushed to the spotlight since day 1 and he hasn’t always responded. Yes, he had a great sophomore season (in the end) and we all know his August numbers. But the fact remains that he was 8^th in the American League in strikeouts (175) and only 21^st in homeruns (37). All other meaningful offensive statistics were down from his rookie season and he was terrible in September– failing with runners in scoring position time and time and time again. I love that he steals bases, but do not like when he gets picked off first or runs behind ground balls at second. The fact that he finished the season batting .275 (34^th in the AL) is a testament to how well he hit after the break because he had a dismal first half. His appointment (not election) to the All-Star Game’s flatulent Home Run Derby was a joke and an affront to any dignity that pompous contest has remaining. (But the hometown team needed a representative who would goose TV ratings– even one who’d only hit 13 homeruns in games that mattered to that point). B

JP Crawford. Just take the previous graph and reverse it: JP had a gem of a season, rising well above his already lofty expectations. The only Mariner to really have a flawless campaign. Did he make the All-Star game? No. Will he win the Gold Glove? Probably not. Is he the face of the Seattle Mariners? Nope. It’s a bit of a stretch to say he don’t get no respect, but he certainly does not get the attention he deserves– with Julio absorbing so much love just over his left shoulder. All JP did was drive opposing pitchers insane in the mind by grinding out at-bats, single-handedly driving pitchcounts up while leading the AL in walks. All other relevant offensive stats were up as well, most notably his homerun total which skyrocketed from 6 last year to 19 this season. He is a Gold Glove-caliber shortstop, a great interview and a leader in the clubhouse. I’m beyond relieved that we have him locked up for many seasons to come. A plus

Cal Raleigh. If the pitching on this team is good, a portion of that credit lives with Cal. His pitchers trust him, and he’s a leader on and off the field. Last year, with fairly average numbers, he was elevated to Folk Hero status based on his ridiculous timing– seemingly always delivering in the clutch. This season– despite most of his offensive numbers being slightly up– Cal did not seem to have the same presence at the plate, that same timing… But I’ll take 30 homers out of my switch-hitting catcher if he manages the pitching well and leads the league in runners caught stealing (with shorter base paths). A minus

Designated Hitter. The DH-by-committee hasn’t really worked out, like Oz said. Let’s face it: in this particular age of baseball, teams intending to compete need a feared brute who’s going to get the guys in front of him better pitches and who can still hit for power with the pitches he sees. And he doesn’t have to do anything except hit. He doesn’t really even have to be an athlete! This year the Mariners conceded 600 at bats to guessers like Mike Ford. If there is a #1 off-season priority, it is a power hitter to plug into this slot. It’s not called Designated Hitter for nothing. D

Baserunning. It frustrates me when the Mariners fuck up on the bases. I don’t mind getting thrown out at second trying to stretch a single. That’s just aggressive baserunning. But getting picked off first and running behind ground balls are mental errors. The Mariners were #2 in the league in getting picked off first. It also seems to me that Manny Acta doesn’t even know who he’s waving in sometimes, as France and Suarez are out by 5 steps at the plate with alarming regularity. It would also be great if someone could get a bunt down some day, but I know that is asking a lot. C minus 

The Trident. Someone with guts and authority needs to hurl that fucking stick into the sea. It was cool for a minute when other dugouts had homerun gimmicks like that but few teams are playing that anymore. And when you’re 11^th in home runs but 2^nd in strikeouts you shouldn’t be allowed to accessorize. F

Trader Jerry. Speaking of authority and guts, I’d hate to be in Jerry Dipoto’s Keds right now. I generally approve of Jerry and recognize that his role as a diplomat caught between ownership and the fans and the players is entirely unwinnable. But that’s baseball. I believe the moves he’s made have improved the club, even if the progress has been slow. But you can’t go to the podium the day after elimination and use the kind of language he used in fansplaining why the Mariners aren’t in the playoffs. Part of his job is PR and he just can’t underthink important messaging like that. Seriously, Jerr… B for results D plus for form

The Booth. I haven’t had TV since the 1980s and only ever listen to the Mariners on the radio unless I’m in a hotel room or a bar. But I listen every day. As a result, I know the radio guys pretty well– and I think there’s a divide growing in the booth. In addition to saying last year that I would fire Rizzs if I had the authority, I said I thought there was a pact between the younger guys—Goldsmith & Hill—and the graytooths Rizzs & Simms. Less a pact than a series of alliances, I guess. There’s normally only two hot mics– but the system for who is on them during any given inning continues to puzzle me. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern, almost as if the pairings are determined at random by a coinflip during the commercial break. It’s super obvious that the two age-matched pairs are more comfortable with each other. But without the den mother Rizzs in the front seat of the station wagon, Goldsmith and Hill will often riff to depths that are hard to return from; like the game is not the most important thing happening. It’s all jazz riffs about soft-serve ice cream and video games, with a ball game being played in the background. Not that old dudes can’t lose focus occasionally, especially in the mostly-empty Oakland Coliseum. One of my favorite moments of the season was hearing Rizzs and Simms arguing about 78 rpm records vs 33s one night during a series against the A’s when Jake Swolinski had walked up to “Gimme Shelter.” It was weird to hear Rick Rizzs– King of the Honkeys– waxing about what a classic the song is; one of the hardest, most menacing songs of all time. But then again there were only 3800 people in the stadium, so someone had to say something. (It still wasn’t as cool as Colabro quoting Zappa, though…)

I don’t know what happens on the TV side. I heard Blowers got vertigo or something and that he’d been out of the booth for a while. I haven’t heard his Blowers on Baseball segment on the radio since before the break, so maybe he’s laid out on his bathroom floor. Someone please do a wellness check on Mike Blowers. B minus

Rules. It took me about three games to get used to the pitch clock. I was a little scared at first, though, aint gonna lie. On opening day, it felt like Rizzs was rushing, often unable to finish his thought before the next pitch was delivered. But I think that was because he was trying to say too much, it being opening day. Once the broadcasters settled into the new timing, I did too. And I haven’t given it another thought all season. Game times are way down which is great. I don’t know whether abolishing the shift has led to more offense, and I don’t know if the bigger bases have led to more runners on them. But it all felt perfectly fine. For some great perspective on the new rules and the state of the game in general, I highly recommend Mark Leibovich’s brilliant July essay in The Atlantic.  A

2024. Shucks, I don’t know. It’s easy for players to bitch to the media about management/ownership when the team fails. To be fair, the Mariners are in the bottom third of payroll while they rest comfortably in the upper tiers of income. They have a wicked cool facility that was publicly-funded. And their lily-white sushi-suckin’ PNW fans who are already accustomed to overpaying for food, drink and parking are super happy to support them, with the team ranking in the top third in the major leagues for attendance.

It’s a yidda bit chicken or egg. If the team wins, will ownership escalate spending in order to win it all? Or is the team doomed to languish at .543 while ownership realizes greater returns on safer investments elsewhere?

Jerry’s being crucified publicly this week for how he answered some fairly routine questions. But what the actual answer is is the trickier riddle. Because improving this team in 2024 won’t come from the prized farm system. It has to come via trade or a high-leverage free agent signing. Let’s hope we’re not at an impasse.

There certainly is a core of young, talented, signed players. But there are holes in the roster, no doubts. Beyond the DH, but we could use a fierce left-handed reliever, a major league second baseman and a left fielder (if you move Kelenic for value as I believe the clubhouse has said it favors). Brent said he doesn’t think the Mariners will win a World Series while Dylan Moore is on the roster. But there’s more role-playing going on than just DylMo.

What if this current team takes the field largely unchanged next season? They might win 54% of their games, which is what Jerry says dynasties average. But the Mariners achieved that this year and didn’t advance. How loud will be the whining if the 2024 Mariners aren’t better than the team currently golfing.

Shucks, man. It’s easy for the players to bitch about management/ownership when the team fails. But when you’re two games back playing the team in front of you, and you come to the plate in the 5th and then again in the 8th with runners in scoring position all series long and you strike out on bad pitches then maybe there’s some responsibility to be born by the ones who actually play the games.

What now? October is my favorite month: my birthday at the front, Halloween at the back and MLB playoff baseball nearly every day in-between– some days with 4 games in a single day. But for the first time in many years, I’m not particularly excited about this postseason. It’s not because the Mariners aren’t in it, because that’s been the rule for two decades. But I guess I don’t really like any of the remaining teams all that much. I don’t like their uniforms and I don’t like their stadiums—factors that are important in the post because I do normally manage to take in some TV games in a bar or a hotel room. Only 5 teams out of the original 12 post-season teams play baseball outside– the other 7 have domes or retractables and those just don’t look the same on TV. Lucky for me, all 5 of those teams advanced in the first round so now it’s 5-3. Most of the parks are modern, with only Dodger Stadium older than me and and I can’t root for that team. So I guess my heart’s with Baltimore. How about they beat the Braves in six.

See you in February…