MLB news

[The Suburban Avenger]

Roger Clemens has been acquitted, but it seems all but certain he won't be a first-ballot hall of famer when the ballots are mailed later this year.

He'll be on a top-heavy ballot that also includes Barry Bonds, Craig Biggio, Sammy Sosa, Mike Piazza, David Wells and Curt Schilling. Clemens, Bonds and Sosa almost certainly will be passed over. Wells won't come close and Schilling's general dickishness won't get him in right away, if ever.

That leaves Piazza (lead-pipe cinch) and Biggio (3,000 hits, but not necessarily a first-ballot hall of famer ... but I think he will).

All this could be a boon for Jack Morris, who got 67 percent last year. Jeff Bagwell (56), Lee Smith (51) and Tim Raines (49) are the only others who were on at least 45 percent of last year's ballot.

[Ya Mar]

I know people were talking about all-star voting somewhere, but I can't find it. So Here are my votes for 2012:

1b) Fielder and Votto
2b) Cano and Altuve
ss) Jeter and Castro
3b) Cabrera and Wright
OF) Granderson, Jackson, Hamilton -- Braun, Beltran, McCutcheon
C) Mauer and Ellis
DH) Ortiz

NL outfield and AL catcher were the two hardest choices. Leaving both Kemp and Ethier off was difficult. And I just couldn't vote for AJ Pierzynski.

Anyhow, a lot of folks are having great seasons. Joey Votto may be the best player in baseball. Outside of people in Houston or those who play fantasy, has anybody every heard of Altuve?

[D-Day]

I know people were talking about all-star voting somewhere, but I can't find it. So Here are my votes for 2012:

1b) Fielder and Votto
2b) Cano and Altuve
ss) Jeter and Castro
3b) Cabrera and Wright
OF) Granderson, Jackson, Hamilton -- Braun, Beltran, McCutcheon
C) Mauer and Ellis
DH) Ortiz

NL outfield and AL catcher were the two hardest choices. Leaving both Kemp and Ethier off was difficult. And I just couldn't vote for AJ Pierzynski.

Anyhow, a lot of folks are having great seasons. Joey Votto may be the best player in baseball. Outside of people in Houston or those who play fantasy, has anybody every heard of Altuve?

Yeah. he plays for the 'Stros. They were in town just recently.

I would go Brandon Phillips for your NL 2d baseman. Other than that, pretty solid choices

[The Beav]

I can't remember the last time I saw the entire American League East all lose a game on the same day.

[The Beav]

I can't remember the last time I saw the entire American League East all lose a game on the same day.

Update: According to MLB, the last time this has happened was June of 2008, but all of the teams were playing double-headers, which makes the odds better for this happening. Before that, it was July of 2007.

[The Suburban Avenger]

The Miami Marlins have approached the Boston Red Sox about a blockbuster trade that would send left fielder Carl Crawford and a prospect to South Florida for infielder Hanley Ramirez and closer Heath Bell, according to three officials with knowledge of the talks who spoke to USA TODAY Sports on the condition of anonymity because negotiations are ongoing.

The trade would involve three All-Star players signed to contracts guaranteeing $239 million, making it the second-biggest swap of contracts in baseball history. The 2004 trade that sent Alex Rodriguez to the New York Yankees from the Texas Rangers for Alfonso Soriano involved more than $257 million in contracts, including Rodriguez's 10-year, $252 million deal that he was three seasons into.

Crawford, a four-time All-Star, is in the second year of an seven-year, $142 million deal, which is a record for an outfielder. Ramirez, a three-time All-Star and former batting champion, is in the fourth year of a six-year, $70 million contract. And Bell, a three-time All-Star, is in the first year of a three-year, $27 million pact.

Marlins vice president Dan Jennings is in Boston scouting Crawford. The Red Sox insist they are not shopping Crawford.

"We have not offered Carl to a single team," Red Sox general manager Ben Cherington told USA TODAY Sports. "We have not pursued anything on Carl Crawford. Carl is our left fielder."

The biggest impediment to a deal, according to one of the officials, is the Marlins' indecision whether to unload their high-paid players and abandon playoff hopes for this season and build for next season, or try to overcome the nine-game deficit they face in the NL East and 5½ games they trail for an NL wild-card berth.

"It's up to the players," Marlins manager Ozzie Guillen told reporters Monday. "If they play good, nobody is going to leave. If they play bad …it's part of the business. It's a big week for us, yes."

The Marlins, according to one of the officials, are also discussing trades that will send infielder Omar Infante to Detroit, and deals involving starters Josh Johnson and Anibal Sanchez.

Yet, no trade would have a bigger impact than sending Ramirez back to Boston, seven years after he was traded to Miami along with Sanchez for starter Josh Beckett and third baseman Mike Lowell.

The Red Sox have coveted Ramirez, 28, almost since the day he left. He was the 2006 National League Rookie of the Year and won the batting title in 2009 with a career-high .342 average, but he has struggled the past 1½ seasons. He hit a career-low .243 with 10 homers and 45 RBI last season, and after moving to third base this year to make room for All-Star shortstop Jose Reyes, is hitting just .249 with a .326 on-base percentage, 14 homers and 47 RBI.

Crawford, who missed the Red Sox's first 89 games with elbow, wrist and groin injuries, returned to the lineup Monday. He hit a career-low .255 with a .289 on-base percentage last year but has four hits and three stolen bases in his first two games back. The Marlins, according to one of the officials, believe he'll be a much more productive player away from the pressure of Boston. He has no-trade rights to only two teams, and can't ever be traded to the Yankees, but the Marlins are not on his no-trade list.

Bell, who saved 132 games the previous three years for the San Diego Padres, has struggled his first season in Miami. He lost his closer's job after blowing a major-league leading six saves in the first half, and has a 6.38 ERA.

http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/story/2012-07-18/carl-crawford-hanley-ramirez-trade/56309810/1

[The Beav]

Don't look now, but Brandon Inge and the A's are 1/2 game behind the Tigers in the wild card race.

[Ya Mar]

IN 13 full seasons in the MLB, Tori Hunter has never batted .300. That surprises me.

[The Suburban Avenger]

Great read:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/nationals/nationals-manager-davey-johnson-is-in-the-midst-of-one-of-his-best-seasons/2012/07/18/gJQALk5YuW_story.html?hpid=z4

[The Beav]

http://news.rotowire.com/Ichiro-Suzuki-googid413143-spmlb.htm

Yankees trade for Ichiro. Seattle just lost a huge part of their fan base.

[gullycanyon]

In the wake of an act of profanity, artistry and grace prevailed in Seattle tonight. The Ugly Duckling of a defection was, against all odds, transmuted into a disarming Swan.

When the newest Yankee strode to the plate for his first at-bat in Monday night's game, the sound coming from the crowd had an eerieness. A torrent of lusty cheers and, underneath, a most odd wave of noise, not so much a low roar of disapproval as a rolling, tentative wail of lament. Were they, even in this moment of unbearable discontent, with the sting of betrayal still searing their hearts, surprised to learn that they were unable to fully pronounce even so much as that one long syllable of contempt?

He paused, briefly, before entering the batter's box. They were standing, standing for him as they had stood for him so many times before.
But this time, this moment was different.
His name-- his renowned single name-- was no longer on his back. Now, only a number. One of their numbers. The few, the proud, the despised.
A Yankee.
For a fleeting few seconds, he-- for perhaps the first time ever-- seemed uncomfortable in holding the bat, as though the object that had for so long felt like an extension of his arms suddenly did not even belong in his hands. He waved it, limply, before letting it drop downward as he, always of the proper manners, was compelled to acknowledge the moment. Fully removing his helmet and cap, he bowed to them, turned around, bowed again. Their roars rose in response, and the shutter clicked down, then back up; the snapshot, the moment, was over, and it was time to do the work that he was born to do.

How does he do that thing he does, how long did it take him to master it? How is it, that he somehow is already off and running before the arc of his swing has even come to its end?
With the usual laser-like speed, his bat slashed around, a light-saber bisecting an orange through its exact middle, and off he flew, as though trying to out-run the ball itself.
Safe!!
Of course.
Standing at 1st Base, looking for the first time a bit awkward, he allowed himself a quick smile, and exhaled, before stepping off of the bag and taking a few measured steps away.
On to the next mission: stealing 2nd. Was there ever a doubt, did anyone believe that he would ever be satisfied with less than was possible?
Crouching, tilting back and forth, his eyes locked on the pitcher-- 6 hours earlier, his team-mate-- he already had the base stolen, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to alight upon it.

It was a slide, but it more looked like an elegant dip downward that flowed into his return to uprightness.
In that moment of elegance, we may have seen his season, thus far-- inarguably his least fruitful half-term-- encapsulated.

And then, his missions accomplished, what did he do next?
He clapped the dirt from his gloves and brushed it off of his uniform, of course; this most prideful of men would be loath to stand there with dirt caked on his uniform. A uniform should be worn with pride.
And that, gentle readers, is why it was time for the Mariner to become a Yankee.

[Ya Mar]

In the wake of an act of profanity, artistry and grace prevailed in Seattle tonight. The Ugly Duckling of a defection was, against all odds, transmuted into a disarming Swan.

When the newest Yankee strode to the plate for his first at-bat in Monday night's game, the sound coming from the crowd had an eerieness. A torrent of lusty cheers and, underneath, a most odd wave of noise, not so much a low roar of disapproval as a rolling, tentative wail of lament. Were they, even in this moment of unbearable discontent, with the sting of betrayal still searing their hearts, surprised to learn that they were unable to fully pronounce even so much as that one long syllable of contempt?

He paused, briefly, before entering the batter's box. They were standing, standing for him as they had stood for him so many times before.
But this time, this moment was different.
His name-- his renowned single name-- was no longer on his back. Now, only a number. One of their numbers. The few, the proud, the despised.
A Yankee.
For a fleeting few seconds, he-- for perhaps the first time ever-- seemed uncomfortable in holding the bat, as though the object that had for so long felt like an extension of his arms suddenly did not even belong in his hands. He waved it, limply, before letting it drop downward as he, always of the proper manners, was compelled to acknowledge the moment. Fully removing his helmet and cap, he bowed to them, turned around, bowed again. Their roars rose in response, and the shutter clicked down, then back up; the snapshot, the moment, was over, and it was time to do the work that he was born to do.

How does he do that thing he does, how long did it take him to master it? How is it, that he somehow is already off and running before the arc of his swing has even come to its end?
With the usual laser-like speed, his bat slashed around, a light-saber bisecting an orange through its exact middle, and off he flew, as though trying to out-run the ball itself.
Safe!!
Of course.
Standing at 1st Base, looking for the first time a bit awkward, he allowed himself a quick smile, and exhaled, before stepping off of the bag and taking a few measured steps away.
On to the next mission: stealing 2nd. Was there ever a doubt, did anyone believe that he would ever be satisfied with less than was possible?
Crouching, tilting back and forth, his eyes locked on the pitcher-- 6 hours earlier, his team-mate-- he already had the base stolen, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to alight upon it.

It was a slide, but it more looked like an elegant dip downward that flowed into his return to uprightness.
In that moment of elegance, we may have seen his season, thus far-- inarguably his least fruitful half-term-- encapsulated.

And then, his missions accomplished, what did he do next?
He clapped the dirt from his gloves and brushed it off of his uniform, of course; this most prideful of men would be loath to stand there with dirt caked on his uniform. A uniform should be worn with pride.
And that, gentle readers, is why it was time for the Mariner to become a Yankee.

Poetry, or drivel? This should go next to the Danny, Not Danny? Thread. I happen to like it - but then again, I am a fan of the Yankees and of Ichiro, and think that baseball is poetry.

I give you a well done, Gully.

[David Hall]

In the wake of an act of profanity, artistry and grace prevailed in Seattle tonight. The Ugly Duckling of a defection was, against all odds, transmuted into a disarming Swan.

When the newest Yankee strode to the plate for his first at-bat in Monday night's game, the sound coming from the crowd had an eerieness. A torrent of lusty cheers and, underneath, a most odd wave of noise, not so much a low roar of disapproval as a rolling, tentative wail of lament. Were they, even in this moment of unbearable discontent, with the sting of betrayal still searing their hearts, surprised to learn that they were unable to fully pronounce even so much as that one long syllable of contempt?

He paused, briefly, before entering the batter's box. They were standing, standing for him as they had stood for him so many times before.
But this time, this moment was different.
His name-- his renowned single name-- was no longer on his back. Now, only a number. One of their numbers. The few, the proud, the despised.
A Yankee.
For a fleeting few seconds, he-- for perhaps the first time ever-- seemed uncomfortable in holding the bat, as though the object that had for so long felt like an extension of his arms suddenly did not even belong in his hands. He waved it, limply, before letting it drop downward as he, always of the proper manners, was compelled to acknowledge the moment. Fully removing his helmet and cap, he bowed to them, turned around, bowed again. Their roars rose in response, and the shutter clicked down, then back up; the snapshot, the moment, was over, and it was time to do the work that he was born to do.

How does he do that thing he does, how long did it take him to master it? How is it, that he somehow is already off and running before the arc of his swing has even come to its end?
With the usual laser-like speed, his bat slashed around, a light-saber bisecting an orange through its exact middle, and off he flew, as though trying to out-run the ball itself.
Safe!!
Of course.
Standing at 1st Base, looking for the first time a bit awkward, he allowed himself a quick smile, and exhaled, before stepping off of the bag and taking a few measured steps away.
On to the next mission: stealing 2nd. Was there ever a doubt, did anyone believe that he would ever be satisfied with less than was possible?
Crouching, tilting back and forth, his eyes locked on the pitcher-- 6 hours earlier, his team-mate-- he already had the base stolen, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment to alight upon it.

It was a slide, but it more looked like an elegant dip downward that flowed into his return to uprightness.
In that moment of elegance, we may have seen his season, thus far-- inarguably his least fruitful half-term-- encapsulated.

And then, his missions accomplished, what did he do next?
He clapped the dirt from his gloves and brushed it off of his uniform, of course; this most prideful of men would be loath to stand there with dirt caked on his uniform. A uniform should be worn with pride.
And that, gentle readers, is why it was time for the Mariner to become a Yankee.

Poetry, or drivel? This should go next to the Danny, Not Danny? Thread. I happen to like it - but then again, I am a fan of the Yankees and of Ichiro, and think that baseball is poetry.

I give you a well done, Gully.

Tres Bien.

[The Beav]

So...

Is John Sterling going to be able to say, "An A-bomb! From A-Rod!" now that Ichiro is on their team?

(I'm sure I'm not the first to ask this, but, hey...)

[The Suburban Avenger]

Victorino is a Dodger ... that really fills a big hole in left field for them.