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

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

You put your Macha in. You put your Macha out. You put your Macha in, and you shake it all about.

And here I thought this offseason was going to be boring. It’s been hilarious! A laugh a minute! Orel Hershiser? Larry Bowa? And now this?

Whee!

I’m not personally Machtose intolerant, so I don’t have any problem swallowing this weird turn of events. I don’t think Macha bothers me more than any other manager would. But let us all say a prayer for poor Zachary. May he survive this horrible shock to his system.

“Angels first place, A’s second place, Rangers third place, Mariners last place,” Selig said. “Sound familiar yet? If not, get used to it, as that will be your AL West for the next 20 or so years.”

So why bother even hiring a manager?

* * *

Orel Hershiser? In green and gold? Are you kidding me? That’s just way too weird to actually happen.

Not that he wouldn’t make a good manager, but…it’s just unthinkable.

Then again, Hershiser did wear a Giants uniform once. That’s probably even more unfathomable.

But really, Billy Beane is just screening Paul DePodesta’s calls, right? Right?

* * *

Or maybe, the Dodgers and A’s got their brains caught in a lunar-powered thought transferrence device, and they are gradually becoming the other. Next thing you know, The Dodgers will start wearing white shoes, and Tommy Lasorda will start telling everyone he bleeds green.

* * *

If Nova Science NOW were there, they’d take the women out of the water, and perform surgery on them.

The Angels doth loudly protest:
“What kind of beast has the gall
To rule, or to even suggest,
That someone as saintly as Paul

Would uncleanly capture the ball
Then act like he couldn’t have guessed
A putout was needed at all
And left that concern unaddressed?

The sinner who cannot be blessed
Is someone, who after his fall,
Denies that he should have confessed
He blew it in making his call.

Under a rock he should crawl,
This lowly contemptible pest;
To duck being mobbed in a brawl,
He’ll need some new digs to infest.”

Oh, boo hoo. These Angels who bawl,
Who brag that their offense is small,
That they needn’t hit over the wall,
Deserve what cruel fate may befall,

For those who are truly the best,
Who are worthy of winning the quest,
Don’t live by befriending Joe West,
Then die whining, “I am oppressed!”

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.

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

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

I took my older daughter this afternoon to go see the new Wallace and Gromit movie, Curse of the Were-Rabbit. My younger daughter decided to stay home and watch baseball. She didn’t care much for the other Wallace and Gromit cartoons. I think the satire/spoofing goes over her head, so she experiences the movies mostly on a literal level, which doesn’t quite work for her. It’s the difference between age five and age eight, I guess.

When we left the house, Lance Berkman had just hit a grand slam in the 8th inning, to bring the Astros to within one run.

It’s a twenty-minute walk to the movie theater from my house. We saw the movie. (Quick review: enjoyable, entertaining, but coulda been better. The plot seemed rather loose, and the editing was choppy.) We walked back home.

And the Astros and Braves were still playing.

Cue the Jon Stewart eye-rub: Wha?

* * *

I recently answered some “What went wrong” questions about the A’s over at Baseball Analysts. Check it out.

* * *

Posting might be light here for the next week or three. Now that the A’s season is over, I’m gonna try to put some intense focus on programming Fairpole.

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

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

Welcome to Humbugardy. I’m your host, Alex Scorebard.

Here are the rules for the double humbugardy: I will provide the answer, you provide the question. The answers and questions will all be related to either baseball and poetry somehow, but not necessarily both.

The first person with the winning question gets the points, and gets to choose the next answer.

The question must be in the form of a question. If the answer is a poem (or part of one), the question must not only be correct, it must scan correctly to complete the poem.

When I announce that the answer is questioned correctly, the winner can then choose the next answer. After which, I’ll post the next answer. I’ll post one or two answers per day, at random times.

In this round, you are allowed to use the web to research.

Ready to start? The first person to comment below can pick the first answer from the following categories:

The current standings:

Ken Macha is out.

Interesting that the exact numbers that changed hands came out. Beane offered $2.6 million for 3 years; Macha asked for $4 million. Beane called off the negotiations; Macha said they would have been willing to come down to $3.1 million, but Beane said forget it.

With the Detroit job filled already, and Jim Tracy the rumored favorite for the Pittsburgh job, it sounds to me like Macha’s agent overplayed his hand.

Let the speculation about his replacement (and where Macha’s going next) begin….

Update: Some people think they know already.

The Astros get right out to work.
Biggio singles, and Berk
Earns a walk.
Ensberg, a knock,
Scores the first run as a perk.

Pettitte, the pick by his skip,
With a great ERA, also WHIP,
Gets two quick outs,
Easing the doubts,
Then gives up a homer to Chip.

Inning three, Hudson loses command.
The ball wildly flies from his hand.
Two walks and two hits
Are giving him fits
Two runs down isn’t quite what he planned.

Andrew Jones in the fourth overthrew
A sac fly, but later came through,
Put the throw in the past
With a much needed blast
Helping the Braves to score two.

Abruptly in frame number five
Hudson’s command comes alive.
Pettitte’s sharp, too.
This inning flew.
It goes quickly when both pitchers thrive.

The sixth is quick, too, but alas,
Hudson then runs out of gas.
Ensberg once more
Drives in a score.
The Braves have a two-run morass.

In the eighth frame, Atlanta’s relief
Puts fans into stunned disbelief.
The Astronauts soar,
Five runners score,
The crowd’s hopes all turn into grief.

The Braves give their fans one more thrill.
They rally and battle until
A Furcal double play.
To the home fans’ dismay,
They now trail in games, one to nil.

TangoTiger’s 2005 Scouting Report by the Fans for the Fans is now available. Mark Kotsay won a “Globe Glove”, and I wrote his summary:

Mark Kotsay makes extraordinary defense look ordinary. His arm is good, but not a cannon. Yet he can unleash a textbook one-hop throw right on the base with uncanny consistency. His speed is good, but not blinding. Yet he seems to get to every fly ball without ever having to leave his feet. Kotsay is a great fielder, but he is not a reliable source of “web gems”. With solid fundamentals, perfect positioning and excellent reads off the bat, Mark Kotsay makes even the most difficult of plays look simple and routine.

Compare that to what Aaron Gleeman wrote about Torii Hunter:

Torii Hunter plays center field like a middle linebacker plays a sweep to the outside. He attacks the ball without regard for his own safety and hunts it down. Whether the catch involves scaling the baggy-covered walls in the Metrodome or skidding along the turf face first, he makes the play first and thinks about it later. There is no more spectacular outfielder in baseball, and while the triangle in Fenway Park handed Hunter his first career knockout this season, his overall record against The Wall is second-to-none.

Two utterly different styles of center field play, yet each effective in his own unique way. Ain’t baseball great?

* * *

Here is the A’s report from Tango’s study. Can’t say I’d disagree with the results too much, except for Jason Kendall.

Kendall’s speed and first-step scores are probably accurate, but those traits aren’t very important for a catcher defensively. Overall, his speed helped him reach a score of 52 on a 100 point scale. In my book, any catcher with an arm as bad as Kendall’s should not be considered an above-average defensive player. Catchers probably need to be measured differently.

The Yankees could not opportune it
To boost series chances with Unit
Starting two games.
They’ve got title claims,
But this little fact could harpoon it.

Contreras–game five? I thought surely
The White Sox, who clinched it so early,
Were playing a joke.
He’s set up to choke.
I tell ya, they shoulda used Buehrle.

Well, everyone else is doing it, so I may as well, too.

First, my division series picks. I’m going with my “fewest errors during the season wins” theory for these. It’s worked for me in the past, and it’s certainly been better than any other method I’ve tried, like, say, thinking about it. The number of games? I’ll just make something up.

LA Angels (87 errors) over New York Yankees (95) in five.
Chicago White Sox (94) over Boston Red Sox (109) in four.
St. Louis Cardinals (100) over San Diego Padres (109) in three.
Atlanta Braves (86) over Houston Astros (89) in five.

OK, then in the LCS, you reverse it:
White Sox (94) over Angels (87) in six.
Cardinals (100) over Braves (86) in five.

Then back the other direction for the World Series:
White Sox (94) over Cardinals (100) in seven.

There you go. The White Sox. See, if I had given this any thought at all, I would never have picked them. Now I’m going to be right, another curse will be broken.

Which all goes to prove the following…brains: bad. Soylent green…mmm…soylent green.

The Padres are hoping that Peavy
Will sign, seal, deliver like Stevie.
And with two wins by Jake,
They would need one more break.
But to bet on that would be naïvy.

Brown hills rise beyond the eastern walls;
Freeways flow around us.

Here is where we must separate
To wander the asphalt for a thousand miles.

The clouds drift mindlessly.
The sun sets into the darkness like a handshake.

We roll down our windows, reach out, and wave.
The car horns bray their farewells.

—Li Po (very roughly translated)

I went to the A’s final home game today, to say my goodbyes to the 2005 Oakland Athletics.

The game itself was not memorable at all, except perhaps for an absolutely Kingmanesque home run by Nick Swisher. That thing went way, way up in the sky. If Mount Davis were located just behind first base, the ball might have cleared it. It eventually came down, with just enough distance to clear the right field fence.

Otherwise, the game had less energy to it than a spring training game. Barry Zito didn’t look like he had his mind in the game, as he threw some sloppy pitches that got whacked for home runs. That mattered little, as the A’s offense–without Crosby and Chavez–did almost nothing besides Swisher’s moonshot. I think Hiram Bocachica could face Bartolo Colon fastballs for weeks on end, and still whiff on every single one of them. He looked completely overmatched.

The outcome (7-1 Angels) didn’t matter, really. We were there for the last at-bat, to give one final cheer for this team, as thanks. Mark Ellis gave a valiant effort as the last man standing, fouling off about six Brendan Donnelly pitches before finally striking out. Standing ovation.

Ellis’ at-bat personifies this year’s team: a brave battle that fell short in the end. Last year’s A’s fell just short, as well, but they were far less likable. The 2004 A’s were an aging team that fell apart. The 2005 A’s were a young team that came together.

As the Angels shook hands, they posted this on Diamond Vision:

Next A’s Home Game
April 3, 2006, 7:05pm
vs. New York Yankees

I hadn’t really accepted the season was done until I saw that. But that struck me. April. It seems so far away. What to do, where to go, in the meantime?

This may be the most boring offseason in the history of the Oakland A’s. A right-handed power bat in left field would probably top my wishlist, but Billy Beane doesn’t really *need* to do much at all except let his players mature.

The players cleared the dugouts. The groundskeepers started grooming the field.

I stopped behind home plate, and looked out over that green grass one last time. Then I climbed the steps, walked out the tunnel, crossed the parking lot, got in my car, and drove away.

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

Note: Using the web to search is cheating…you gotta know (or guess) off the top of your head.