August 4: It's All About Winning

In December of 1997, the San Diego Padres acquired pitcher Kevin Brown from the Florida Marlins. Brown had just helped the Marlins win a world championship and he was about to lead a Padres' club to its first World Series since 1984. Although the team ended up getting swept by the New York Yankees, their appearance in the Fall Classic sparked San Diego to vote on a proposition that led to the building of a new downtown ballpark which would keep baseball in America's Finest City for years to come.

Brown was a hero in '98. He was a leader in the clubhouse and a mentor to the entire pitching staff. San Diego loved him. The city loved him, however, until December 12 of the same year when he bolted up the I-5 to accept the first ever 100-plus million dollar contract for a pitcher by signing with the Los Angeles Dodgers; the Padres' biggest rivals. Kevin Brown instantly became the most hated man in San Diego.

This afternoon I was sitting in my air-conditioned apartment watching a Giants/Rockies game when I had an epiphany. The Giants started the day off with just as many wins as the Padres, but with two more losses which put them at a full game behind the Friars for first place in the National League West. With the season crawling by, I've been watching the other teams in the Padres' division and keeping an eye on the standings at all times. I need the Padres to win every game and the other four teams to lose.

But why? Why am I so obsessed with baseball? Why do I care if the Padres win? What will change for me? As I sat watching and praying that the Rockies held their lead, I thought about my predicament. I thought about how insane it was to root for a team and how I continue to let my emotions get tied up by something that is completely out of my control. I still can't forget game 163 in 2007 when the same Rockies that I was reluctantly cheering for today beat my beloved Padres to claim the last remaining postseason berth. I thought about how an entire city could view Kevin Brown as a god and then hate his guts when he pulls on a different team's jersey.

It's no secret that I love the Padres. I want them to win every game. I hate how they've never won a World Series and that they are one of two teams that has never had a player throw a no-hitter or hit for the cycle. But how is my life going to be any different if they win it all? If the night ever comes when I witness them make that final out and celebrate on the infield, I will be jumping and screaming. I will be beside myself with joy, but how will the next day be any different? It won't. It would be one thing if I gambled, but I don't.

A doctor heals the sick. A veterinarian takes care of our pets. A mailman is responsible for delivering bills and letters to expecting people. But athletes? They make millions of dollars to throw a ball around as millions of people cheer for them. I can't comprehend it but if you'll excuse me, the game is about to start.

August 2: Superstitious Turk

For Christmas last year, my parents gave to me a San Diego Padres beer bottle koozie. It's great because it's in the shape of a little jersey complete with the number 0 on the back. After failing to have it in my possession any time I went somewhere where I ended up with a bottled beer, I started leaving it in my truck. It was such a cool little accessory and I really wanted to show it off so I thought by having it on the backseat of my vehicle I would be more likely to use it. I was, however, still forgetting all about it. It wasn't until recently that I saw it back there and decided to bring it up front with me where it just happens to be the perfect size to comfortably fit over my gear shift.

I keep it on the shifter every time I park; always adjusted to face outward and always gently pressed as low as possible on the handle. Since I've introduced the koozie to the front of the truck's cabin, it has become somewhat of a superstitious object for me. In my mind, the way I place it upon the shifter can determine the success the Padres will have in that day's game. If I can place it there without it getting caught on an edge and I can flawlessly slide it down, I believe the Padres will win. I can't knock it off center or I will be the cause for a Padres' loss.

This is hardly my first voyage into superstition. When I was a kid, I used to spend hours shooting free throws in increments of ten. I would then ask a question like, "On a scale of one through ten, what are the chances of my little league team making the playoffs?" If I made six free throws out of ten, I convinced myself that we would have a sixty percent chance.

Athletes are some of the most superstitious people around and no one had has many obscurities as professional pitcher Turk Wendell. According to The Bleacher Report, Wendell:

• Insisted that the umpire roll the ball to the mound rather than simply throw it to him. (If an umpire would ignorantly throw the ball to him, Wendell was known to let it go past him, or even to let it bounce off his chest, after which he would retrieve it from the ground.)
• Would turn and wave to the center fielder and wait for him to wave back before proceeding with each new inning.
  
• Would reportedly draw three crosses in the dirt of the pitcher's mound before each inning.
• Would crouch down whenever his catcher would stand.
• Would always take a colossal leap over the baseline at the end of each inning.
• Often brushed his teeth between innings (some claim that he brushed between every inning). While brushing, he often hid in the dugout, either by ducking behind objects or by facing the wall.
• Wore jersey number 99, in honor of Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn, the main character in the movie Major League (played by Charlie Sheen). In addition, in 2000, he signed a contract worth $9,999,999.99.
• Wore a necklace made from the claws and teeth of various animals he had hunted and killed.
• Sometimes threw his glove into the stands when leaving a game.

I don't know how accurate the entirety of this list is, but the teeth brushing part definitely is. Any baseball fan will be able to tell you that they've heard about Wendell's oral habit. It's funny how we let a small act like being careful to place a koozie just right over a gear shift control our daily routines.

July 25: A Curse or a Blessing?

At the trade deadline in 2009, starting pitcher Cliff Lee was a part of a five player deal that sent him and outfielder Ben Francisco to the Philadelphia Phillies from the Cleveland Indians. Lee finished the season with a 7-4 record and a 3.39 ERA and helped the team to its second consecutive World Series appearance. He wasn't a slouch in the postseason either. With a cumulative ERA of 1.56 in five games pitched, he won four of his decisions with two complete games; one of which was in the World Series against the eventual champion Yankees.

On December 16, the Phillies traded their recently acquired ace to the Seattle Mariners in a nine player deal that landed them starting pitcher Roy Halladay from the Toronto Blue Jays. Suffice it to say, Lee was shocked when he heard the news. Arguments could be made that the Phillies would never have gotten as far into the playoffs as they did without Lee and here they were trading him away less than two months later.

Lee packed his bags and moved his family once again to a new city. What did he do for the Mariners? He only went 8-3 with two no decisions, held on to a 2.34 ERA and struck out 89 batters while only walking six. He did this all while Seattle flushed their season down the drain and sank to the bottom of the American League West. Then on July 9 the Mariners sent their ace to their division rivals; the Texas Rangers.

5,402 miles in 343 days. That may not seem like that big of a deal, but when you factor in a person's family, the stress of finding three new places to call home, moving belongings three times, and getting acquainted with three new cities, it becomes a "big deal."

You might be wondering why a player of Lee's caliber would be traded so frequently given his consistency to put up such good numbers during the regular season and prove to be a valuable commodity during the postseason. It's simple. A player that's as good as Cliff Lee at the ripe age of 31 and approaching free agency is a terrifying thought for any team employing the left-handed pitcher. 2010 marks the end of Lee's current contract which means that teams can bid on his services at the end of the season. A proven track record guarantees top dollar for those services and if a team isn't confident in being able to retain him beyond the expiration of his contract, trading him to a team that is willing to give up top prospects to acquire him makes the most sense for the good of the organization.

Today, starting pitcher Dan Haren was traded from the Arizona Diamondbacks to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. It's not quite the same situation as Lee's because Haren is in the middle of a long-term contract but it got me thinking. Is it more of a curse than a blessing to have so much talent? A player with such ability will eventually get paid millions upon millions of dollars to flex that talent, but what kind of toll does that take on a person and his family?

Until Cliff Lee can sign that contract and include a no-trade clause, he is at the mercy of whatever current club he's with. On one hand, the chances of him being traded to a contending club are pretty high. More times than not, a team at the bottom of its division won't trade away the farm system to acquire a pitcher they'll more than likely lose at the end of the season. A team that feels it's one piece away from having a championship club will gamble a few of its prospects in the hope of winning now. The Mariners knew they were out of contention so they sent Lee to Texas for some pieces that might help them win in the future. Instead of pitching in meaningless games, Lee is instantly a part of a team making a run for the postseason.

Hundreds of millions of dollars to have to move the family across the country multiple times within a short period. Cliff Lee will get the contract this offseason and he'll move his family once more; until, that is, the twilight of his career when a team is desperate for pitching. Is having the talent to make teams drool with dreams of pennants and trophies a curse or a blessing? I wish I could tell you.