This is round 2 of Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: In this round, searching the web is allowed.

This is round 2 of Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: In this round, searching the web is allowed.

For the second year in a row, the A’s have the AL Rookie of the Year. Huston Street follows up Bobby Crosby’s win from last year.

It also marks the fourth year in a row that the AL Rookie of the Year is a product of the A’s farm system. 2003 winner Angel Berroa was traded to Kansas City in the Johnny Damon/Mark Ellis trade, while 2002 winner Eric Hinske was traded to Toronto for Billy Koch.

Joe Blanton and Nick Swisher finished tied for sixth. Dan Johnson did not receive any votes. I would have voted for Johnson before Swisher, but I guess Swisher gives the writers who vote on this award better quotes or something.

I do agree with the writers giving the award to Street. Yeah, Blanton had a higher VORP, but Street came in and did something special. Was there any reliever in the American League, with the possible exception of Mariano Rivera, who was better than Street last year? Blanton established himself as a solid pitcher, but Street showed himself to be an elite one. It’s a rare achievement, and very much worthy of celebration.

In 1986-88 the A’s won three straight ROYs: Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire, and Walt Weiss. It was also a sign of good things to come; with that core of young players in place, the A’s went on to win three straight pennants.

That worked out quite well. Hey, let’s do it again. Daric Barton, anyone? Andre Ethier? Dan Meyer?

Begin transcript

The Candidate: Welcome. Come in. May I take your coats? I appreciate that you would come to visit me here, in my humble abode, instead of at your office. I hope you understand. My pet tuatara Josephine can be quite mischievous at times. Yesterday, she knocked over a bowl of Skittles onto the floor, effectively transforming a delicious confectionary refreshment into a treacherous layer of rainbow-colored ball bearings. I stepped on them. I lost my balance. I twisted my ankle.

Although my mobility is limited, I feel that the psychological effect is even more damaging. I find I am now conscious of every step I take. Heel…ball…toes. Heel…ball…toes. It is quite disconcerting.

Please…have a seat. Frank. Jamie. May I call you Jamie? It is such a lovely name. It reminds me of one of my all-time favorite television shows. The Bionic Woman. Jaime Sommers. Lindsay Wagner…God, I love that woman. On her recommendation, I recently purchased a Sleep Number 9000 bed. Do you have one of those? No? They are a luxurious combination of comfort and support. My number is 45. I sleep like a baby.

My dear friend Ronny Cox, with whom I worked way back in 1972, had the good fortune not too long ago of making a film with Ms. Wagner. What was it called? I pestered Ronny for details about what it was like to work with that fantastic woman. I hope someday to be so fortunate myself. I confess, there was a time when I actively pursued Ms. Wagner, but she rejected my every romantic advance. It leaves an emptiness in my soul that I fear shall never be filled.

I recall now. Frog and Wombat. Thankfully, the film title was not at all descriptive of its contents. I once had the misfortune of stepping in wombat guano and ruining an exquisite pair of leather shoes.

Amphibians terrify me. Although, not quite as much as raccoons.

Forgive me. Where are my manners? Can I get you something to drink? Some champagna, perhaps? Or would you like a snack? No? I have Cheez-Its in the pantry if you change your mind.

OK, then, let us discuss business. Let me say that I am honored to be considered for this position. Our national pastime is a sacred trust. Like the cinema, it has over time become ingrained into our collective national soul.

I am humbled, and yet excited, by the idea that you, Frank, and you, Jamie, and I, could come together. We could unite these two pillars of American culture. Baseball. Film.

They are so similar. You need good reviews to fill the seats. You must please the critics. You must bring the stars out in attendance. To create a buzz.

There are writers, and there are actors. A GM needs to be an actor. When the role calls for it, a GM needs charm the press. When the role calls for it, a GM needs to be cold, distant, and sinister. I can do both. Better than anybody.

Please excuse my temporary lack of modesty. I do not mean to boast, but at times, my emotions overtake me. I lose my head. I forget myself. I am sure a lovely couple such as yourselves can understand the intoxicating effects of passion.

Jamie. Frank. You have a fever. I am your prescription. Imagine, Dodger Stadium filled every night with A-List celebrities. Imagine your ballpark becoming a transcendent blend of America’s two greatest pastimes: baseball and stargazing. You simply must cast me. I am sure, with some time to contemplate my offer, you will come to agree with me. Come, let me walk you to the door. I shall hand you your coats. It has been such a pleasure meeting you. Let’s do this again. Please, have your people contact my people, and we will work out a deal.

End transcript

This is round 2 of Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Note: In this round, searching the web is allowed.

Yipes! The Witasick deal is for after all.

Still, if you include the option buyout, the deal is $1.5 $1.375 million a year for two years. I’m still not crazy about guaranteeing two years, but that price ain’t too bad.

* * *

Speaking of guaranteeing two years, remember the two-year deal the A’s gave Mike Holtz in 2002? Two years, $1.8 million. The dude lasted two months, then got cut.

Relievers are like that. They can be unhittable one year, and awful the next. The Dodgers traded Guillermo Mota in 2004 because they had Yhency Brazoban in the wings. 2005: they both sucked.

And then there are these two words: Arthur Rhodes.

So I’m gunshy about relievers. So here’s really hoping the A’s don’t offer two years to Ricardo Rincon. Rincon will turn 36 next year. He looks like could fall off the proverbial career cliff any time now. I’d be very surprised if he has two good years left. One year, maybe, but I think he’s approaching the end of the line.

* * *

Speaking of done, the A’s declined the option on Scott Hatteberg. Good move. Not sure what took so long. Were they really considering keeping him? Hatteberg is a likeable guy, but he is of no use to the A’s anymore. Johnson has the 1B job, and Swisher can back him up there. There are plenty of other players who can put up better numbers as the team DH. Hatteberg can still put up a fightin’ AB, but there’s no jump off his bat anymore. The best use for him might be to sit on some National League bench somewhere and be a pinch-hit specialist. But with all the stathead GMs losing their jobs lately, who’s gonna hire him?

* * *

Speaking of hiring, the A’s have hired a new hitting coach: Gerald Perry. The impressive part of his resume is that he was the Mariners’ hitting coach during their peak offensive years from 2000-2002.

The last three years, however, he’s been the hitting coach in Pittsburgh, where he’s had some hitters, like Brian Giles, Jason Bay, and (most importantly) Jason Kendall have success under him, but the talentless team as a whole has struggled to score runs.

Which goes to show two things, if nothing else:

1. A hitting coach is only as good as his hitters, and
2. Gerald Perry is at least capable of fulfilling a batting coach’s Hippocratic Oath: first, do no harm.

Perry may not do miracles, but at least he probably won’t screw anybody up. If he can do anything beyond that, it’s gravy.

Perry has some fight in him. He got into a scuffle with Dave Duncan before a game back in August. That’s OK with me. Baseball ain’t hockey, but you still like to see someone in your dugout who’s got your back, and is willing to do some enforcing. That seemed to be missing this year in Oakland without the likes of Tejada and Hudson.

* * *

Speaking of coaches in dugouts, the A’s did some shuffling. Rene Lachemann is now the first base coach, Brad Fischer is now the bullpen coach, and Bob Geren is now the bench coach. Why, I don’t know, but when Ken Macha demands something, by golly, Ken Macha gets it every time. Or something like that…