Old Time Family Baseball

Because he’s a finely tuned physical specimen who requires only the highest quality ingredients, Alex Rodriguez will no longer accept the food served up at restaurants. And we’re not talking about PF Chang’s here, but places that serve real food. 

From Page Six: 

“The Yankee slugger was spotted at the Mondrian Hotel pool in South Beach on Saturday afternoon having lunch with girlfriend Torrie Wilson. But A-Rod didn’t order from the menu — sources say he’s following a special high-protein diet and travels with a cooler of his own grub. Rodriguez was seen asking a waitress to heat up his special meal in the kitchen, while Wilson nibbled on the poolside cafe’s chips and guacamole. A-Rod’s rep declined to comment.”

But what was in the container you ask? A few healthy guesses: 

• Turkey jerky
• Egg whites and mineral water
• Nutrisytem microwavable meal
• Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pocket
• Half a burrito
• This guy: 

(image via The Ringmaster’s Realm) 

Nothing beautiful can last forever. It’s why James Dean and Marilyn Monroe are still so popular—their looks will never see the damage of time and being out in the sun without sunscreen. For a while, Ichiro Suzuki seemed to be the one person immune to all of that. He’s still tall and thin, avoiding the middle aged expansion that happens to even the best of us. (Some say that by the time Ken Griffey Jr retired, his butt could hold a collection of Encyclopedia Britannicas). Ichiro was a real life Dorian Gray, though without all the murdering and such. 

Last year, Baseball Prospectus wrote in their annual: 

“Suzuki will be 37 on Opening Day, and while he won’t continue to cheat Father Time forever, the next [crack] in his armor will be the first.” 

Sadly, 2011 saw Ichiro fail to record 200 hits, hit .300, or post an above-league average OPS+ (84) for the first time in his career. Time seemed to have finally caught up with The Flash in Stirrups, necessitating a drastic change. Just as Craig Counsell stopped holding his bat high above his head like a 1950s housewife attacking a mouse when his batspeed deserted him, Ichiro has widened his stance and cut down on all the moving parts. New swing below (via Lookout Landing by way of Larry Stone):

Gone is the leg kick and the strange hesitation where his body thrust forward while the bat remained silent and poised to strike. It was a swing that defied all kinds of logical thinking, one that I failed to ever properly impersonate even in wiffleball, and he has now joined the ranks of the average and boring Major Leaguers surrounding him. The next logical step is a scraggly goatee. 

In some way, Ichiro may have convinced himself that the switch was done to emphasize his power potential now that he’ll be batting in the three hole, but the truth lies in time’s onward march. Baseball is a better sport with Ichiro playing and doing so at a high level, and if making his swing a little more conventional is the way to do it, then so be it. But life is a little less fun now that Ichiro has had to step down from his mount and join the rest of the athletically gifted mortals that are his teammates and peers. 

UPDATE: I’ve changed the wording of Baseball Prospectus’ paragraph in light of recent issues. While I don’t believe there was any racial intent on behalf of the original writer, unlike the ESPN headline, it’s an issue that will only detract from the point of the post. 

Sure, you may not like his eye black, his weaselly little mustache, or his habit of showboating, but you have to admit that he takes his on-field work very seriously. Harper recently told Adam Kilgore: 

“I’m going work as hard as I can, keep my mouth shut and play. I’m going to make their decision hard as much as I can. I want to be up here. I want to play, and I want to play in D.C.”

While Harper will never be the next Ken Griffey Jr who was blessed with talent and a marketable charisma, it’s important to remember that he’s only 19. And 19 year olds do lots of dumb things. Like sneaking in booze to a concert and then getting lost on the subway home and crying in the middle of a city street. Not that I have ever done such a thing.

Athletics are filled with unlikable players and Harper may just be the next one. Or he could mature a little and be viewed as a baseball eccentric. As long as he busts his butt on the field, he’ll have the respect of his teammates and that’s all he needs to be concerned with.

While I try to detox from my own President’s Day weekend (I can feel the casino smoke still trapped inside my pores), here’s a little catch up post of things you may have missed during your own celebrations.

Better than that, every team has now reported to spring training. The long winter is nearly over.

Baseball in the Dominican Republic. I don’t even have a joke for this one, it’s just an article that I demand you read. 

The Worst Pitches in 2011. It’s not nice to revel in another person’s failures, but it sure can be fun. 

Raul Ibanez signs with Yankees. And all the Yankees had to do was jettison AJ Burnett. Flip Flop Fly Ball breaks this down the only way necessary: with a .gif.

Cubs and Red Sox close to compensation for Theo Epstein. But how can you put a price on a broken heart? 

Add published author to Sam Fuld’s resume after this fantastic look inside Game 162. 

Manny Ramirez signs with the A’s. How long before the “It’s just Mannyball being Mannyball” refrain is heard? 

Buster Posey will not be allowed to block the plate. You know those overprotective mothers who won’t let their children go outside because they once heard of a child catching an untreatable disease? I’m guessing the baseball gods may be angered by this and will see to it that Buster Posey gets a real nasty blister while on a hike next weekend. 

Bob Wickman used to throw up to make weight. He’d rather throw up than slim down? My hero. 

Jon Niese got a nose job and Carlos Beltran paid for it. You know, Jon, real friends love you for who you are, not what you look like. 

Mike Cameron to retire. I wrote a little about Cameron when it looked like he was going to retire this past September. Now it’s official. 

The Making of “Homer at the Bat.” This is the kind of journalism I care about. 

Tim Wakefield is retired. Long live Tim Wakefield! Also, Jeff Sullivan put together gifs of Wakefield striking people out with his low-70s fastball. It’s beautiful. 

This weekend, I’ll be visiting Las Vegas, the city of romance, for the first time ever. I’m not the Vegas-type, even with Celine Dion there, but I do plan on taking advantage of the variety of 51s gear that’s available. I assume that’s the reason most people go?

I’ll also be every bookie’s wet dream. My plan is to walk into the nearest sports book and, with cash in hand, say “Hello good sir. I do not know how to operate within this betting apparatus, but I would like to give you my money. All of my money.”

This is what I’m putting down for the 2012 season. Are these bad ideas?

• $10 on the Pirates winning the World Series.
• $20 on the Tigers winning the World Series.
• $30 on Jose Canseco looking for a job on Twitter.
• $800 on Jose Canseco looking for love. On Twitter. 
• $50 on Craig Counsell making a triumphant on-field return.
• $100 on Jamie Moyer making a triumphant on-field return.
• $200 on a starting pitching prospect blowing out an elbow.
• $500 on Juan Pierre bunting in his first at-bat.
• $1,000 on Adam Dunn striking out in his first at-bat.
• $4,000 on Adam Dunn crying after that at-bat. 
• $8,000 on Carlos Zambrano punching someone.
• $12,000 that an undeserving player will be elected to the All-Star game
• $15,000 that a sportswriter will make up a stat when mocking sabermetrics
• $20,000 on a sabermetrician making up a word when mocking a writer. 
• $50,000 on Jim Leyland changing to menthols. 

So if any of you get a phone call this weekend from a guy screaming about missing kidneys and broken kneecaps, please remember this post and help a brother out.