The St. Louis Post-Dispatch asked that question this morning, and it’s key, because the Cardinals are counting on him this year. The thing about great stories — and regardless your view on Ankiel and HGH and whatever, last year was a great story — is that inevitably they have to keep going. The flash is over; now he has to be a regular player. And protect Albert Pujols in the lineup. Is he really ready for that?
We Cardinals fans are far from certain this tale is over, and we’ve been through too much not to be a little wary. If Ankiel starts off slowly, we are all going to fret. Is he going to lose it again? Is he ready for all this again? Forgive us: We still think of Ankiel as this troubled but good-hearted nephew we root for in more ways than just on-the-field. It will almost seem strange to see him as just another player, another outfielder, a guy on our fantasy team. We want him to do well for our team, but mostly, still, we just want him to do well for himself. We have 162 more games to find out, very soon.
The Dodgers and Padres played their exhibition game this past weekend in Beijing, and we, for one, hope that Jim Edmonds has a good time. He seems like he’d enjoy China. And Home Run Derby points out that the Chinese know what makes a positive baseball experience: Cheerleaders!
Seriously: These cheerleaders aren’t messing around.
The Dodgers’ No. 3 is Delwyn Young. The guy deserves such a tribute, we guess.
We’ve been very much enjoying Central Florida running back (and draft prospect) Kevin Smith’s YouTube updates on what’s been going on during his draft workouts and combines. He doesn’t mean to toot his own horn, but … TOOT TOOT!
Smith is currently projected to be a late third round or early fourth round pick, but we’d have no problem with the Buzzsaw grabbing this guy. Certainly a cooler guy than Leinart. But who isn’t?
You can find all Kevin Smith’s videos right here. We’re a fan; we like the one when he tries to set his brother up with someone on MySpace.
A lot of people perked up and took notice last week when former Cal and Phoenix Suns guard Kevin Johnson announced that he was running for mayor of Sacramento. Johnson is known as a philanthropist, having devoted himself to several urban renewal projects around Sacramento (his hometown) since his retirement from basketball in 2000. He founded the St. Hope Academy in 1989, a nonprofit “faith-based” community development corporation. He’s taking on three-term incumbent Heather Fargo in the municipal election that will be held in June, which some are already calling a mini Hillary vs. Obama showdown. It is anything but that, however.
Johnson is already facing a few thorny issues. First, his commitment to urban renewal apparently does not extend to the properties he owns (as Will wrote back in October). Johnson apologized after The Sacramento Bee ran a story about Kynship Development, a for-profit company owned by Johnson. Nearly half of Kynship’s 37 properties have been cited for health code violations over the past decade, and we’re not talking about minor stuff.
For months, the remains of animals — sheep and goats that neighbors suspect were dumped by someone butchering them for meat — have turned up with gut-churning frequency on the empty weed patch. Neglected lots attract problems, especially in lower-income areas. On the 33rd Street parcel, the animal remains molder alongside garbage, discarded construction materials and jagged bike parts as children play nearby. Kynship Development also owns two rental homes nearby. One has had sewage bubbling up in the backyard and waste backing up in the washing machine, while the other is infested with mice, according to tenants and a city report.
But more potentially damaging are old allegations of Johnson’s inappropriate behavior with a teenage girl 10 years ago in Phoenix, for which he was ultimately never prosecuted.
The alleged sexual contacts, Turley wrote, had occurred in the summer of ‘95, when Kim was 16 and Johnson was 29. He quoted Kim Adams extensively in his demand letter, including this account: “He [Johnson] said I could sleep in his room or the guesthouse and I chose the guesthouse. . . . We got into the bed and he took all of my clothes off and all of his but his shirt. He was on top of me touching me all over–my breasts, butt, in between my legs, and stomach. Then he took off his shirt. I didn’t really know what to do–I was very confused because I thought we were friends, but I didn’t know what else to do than to go along with it. . . . He told me to pinky-promise not to say anything and when I asked why, he said I knew why.”
The Maricopa County Attorney’s Office declined to prosecute Johnson, saying the case did not meet the agency’s threshold of “reasonable likelihood of conviction.” Hey, I have nothing against the guy. But this is politics in the Eliot Spitzer/Mark Foley Era, and stories like this are red meat. KJ may have a future in politics, but I wouldn’t bet on him here.
For the third consecutive season, we are proud to introduce the Deadspin Baseball Season Previews. Yes, baseball is awfully close now; it’s spring training, after all.
Every weekday until the start of the season, a different writer will preview his/her team. We asked a gaggle of writers, from the Web, from print, from books, to tell us, in as many or as little words as they need, Where Their Team Stands. This is not meant to be factual, or dispassionate, or even logical: We just asked them to riff on why they love their team so much, or what their team means to them, or whatever.
Today: The Kansas City Royals. Your author is Will McDonald.
Will McDonald writes Royals Review and is a grad student writing his dissertation on eighteenth-century American poetry. His words are after the jump.
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Are you ready for a universe in which the Royals are good?
All apologies for the cheesy rhetorical question opening aside - I’m sure someone learned like Bob Costas would have started with a quotation from Thucydides or an anecdote shared by Paul McCartney on Later - its better that you prepare yourself emotionally for a more or less OK Royals team now, than suffer the cognitive dissonance later. Sure, we’re all excited to see the Rays (nee Devil) emerge from seed like a beautiful flower, but the Royals aren’t far behind from what many are wishcasting for Tampa. 2008 won’t be a reprise of 1985 (Greenland leaves the European Union, the Royals win the World Series), but it might be a reprise of, say, 1993, when the Royals finished with 84 wins and Raven-Symone joined the cast of Hanging with Mr. Cooper.
Considering that any given week of Roger Clemens or Barry Bonds coverage eclipsed all the annual ink spilt on Kansas City’s baseball team, you likely didn’t notice it, but the Royals were actually a fairly competent baseball team last season. And while the Royals weren’t repeatedly charged with destroying our previously unsullied National Innocence (no outrage over Rafael Betancourt though, of course not, as steroid hysteria has never actually been about steroids) ad nauseum like those two mentioned above, anyone who has had to watch the Royals over the last decade might argue that the Royals have done much more damage to all things holy. Nevertheless, in the last eighteen months a great cleansing purge has taken place, as the refuse from the Allard Baird Era (including Allard himself) has been removed: gone are such luminaries as Buddy Bell, Angel Berroa, Runelyvs Hernandez and Paul Bako. Thus, last season’s inspiring run at a non-100 loss season - their first since 2003 - has generated a disproportionate level of excitement amongst the hundreds of remaining Royals fans.
A major factor in this newfound era of good feeling is the shiny new management team, led by hotshot general manager Dayton Moore. Whatever his ultimate merits as a GM, Moore is an interesting reflection of multiple trends taking place inside baseball. Hired at 39, Moore is yet another wunderkind, long on rumored brilliance and short on experience, especially as a player. Unlike most examples of this type however, Moore is not part of the saber-revolution, in fact, he’s a proud counter-revolutionary, complete with the Braves-based resume that counts as real bonafides in these matters, considering that Atlanta has long been held up as the morally superior alternative to all things Beane-inspired. No, in Atlanta they just scout those fine young southern boys with good faces and even better intangibles until the cows come home and keep winning. Or something like that. Just read the anti-Moneyball screed Scout’s Honor- The Bravest Way to Build a Winning Team if you don’t believe me.
As these things go, from France to Rome, we know that the counter-revolution is always more aggressive than the revolution ever purported to be, and it wouldn’t be a shock to see Moore trumpeted for his wholesome baseball approach at some point by the usual suspects. Finally, Moore is, along with his new managerial hire Trey Hillman, a devout/born again/someone who talks about Jesus a lot in seemingly secular contexts/ Christian. It remains to be seen how the religious factor plays itself out, but considering that Hillman was essentially Moore’s only candidate to replace Buddy Bell, and that he flew to Japan find him, the odds are good that this will become a story should the Royals ever start winning. Either way, it represents yet another sense in which Moore is the anti-Theo Epstein or Mark Shapiro.
To his credit, Moore has almost entirely reconfigured and rebuilt the pitching staff, highlighted by the acquisitions of Gil Meche, Brian Bannister and Joakim Soria, all scouting and intangibles based moves, nonetheless. While Bannister seems likely to fall back a bit, the Meche signing (5 years/$55 million), a year after being lambasted, looks inspired. Thanks to a solidified rotation and a secretly awesome bullpen, the Royals put together a pitching staff that was comparable to their division rivals, a stunning achievement. In 2006 the Royals allowed a staggering 971 runs, the 21st worst total in the history of the game. After Dayton’s first full season as a GM, that total had dropped to 778, a 193-run improvement. Looking at the same data another way, the team actually finished 7th in the AL with an ERA of 4.48. Thanks to their first non-horrible pitching staff since … 1996, the Royals were able to compete in the sturdy AL Central, despite a still Royalsian offense. For long stretches of time in fact, the Royals were actually pretty good, as they went 41-39 from June through August. Basically, for three months they were a National League playoff team.
If we stop right here, tell ourselves that Moore knows pitching and that Alex Gordon and Billy Butler are ready to carry the offense for the next decade, it all sounds terrific. Unfortunately, we can’t stop here, however. While the pitching staff has improved from terrible to mediocre - the Royals still don’t strike anybody out, and no Royals team has finished higher than 12th in the league in Ks since 1999 - the offense remains a major problem and a potential source of anxiety. Moore has show inklings of a knack for finding pitchers, but has matched every hurling success with a complete offensive flop. Aside from the team’s pathetically lame splash signing of malcontent Jose Guillen, Moore’s major positional moves have been: trading for, then extending Ross Gload, a first baseman who doesn’t walk and doesn’t hit for power, trading for Ryan Shealy, one of the worst hitters on the planet last season and bringing in Tony Pena Jr. and Miguel Olivo, who combined might only draw 20 walks all season. From the beginning, Moore has dutifully followed the precedent set by his first trade, which netted the Royals Joey Gathright: keep adding ill-fitting parts.
At issue in Kansas City is a misidentification of what makes a lineup work. Fitting hand in glove with all of Moore’s lovable old-schoolness is Trey Hillman’s fondness for small ball, which is how he made his name in Japan, the land of the first inning bunt, an achievement rather on the order of gaining renown in West Virginia for one’s methamphetamine making skills. Not surprisingly, we’ve thus seen a handful of Spring Training stories about the virtues of fundamentals and the little things and moving runners over and on and on, complete with glowing references to the glory that is the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. But the problem with the Royals the last few years hasn’t been a lack of situational hitting or productive outs or any other Buster Olney-inspired buzzword. No, it’s much less seventh-grade subtle than that: the Royals simply can’t hit, not for average and not for power, especially the latter. In 2007, in the American League, the Royals only managed to hit 102 home runs, a stunningly low total. Throwing out the strike shortened 1994 season (but not, mind you, the also shortened ‘95) that’s actually the lowest HR total by an AL team since 1992. 1992! The 2007 Royals only had two players hit double-digits in home runs and had no one over 18, en route to scoring a anemic 706 runs. So in a perverse way, focusing on small-ball makes sense. Just as it makes sense to learn how to use your other hand if you break your arm. Yet most of us would still want to also wear a cast and have the good arm heal, not just celebrate our new status as traditional and novel.
At the very most, doing the little things well is a nice complimentary skill set for an already adequate lineup, but the Royals aren’t an adequate lineup: They don’t hit for average, they don’t walk, they don’t have power. Moreover, the truly scary thing is that the only patches of adequacy and the only projectable bright spots remain vestiges from the Baird regime. If we consider the dictum that the horizons of our realities are defined by the limits of our dreams, then it’s telling to note that this is a fanbase that’s been dreaming about middling Mark Teahen’s breakout for years now. But hey, the Royals added Jose Guillen, he was like the fourth best Mariner in the world last year, and he extended his epic Consecutive Teams Played For who Let Me Finish the Season in the Locker Room streak to two.
Nevertheless, everything in the paragraph above does not really represent the consensus feeling of the normal, patriotic and tax-paying Royals fan, and perhaps it shouldn’t. Without much squinting you can see the Royals blossoming in much the same way the Brewers have, with Butler and Gordon playing the roles of Fielder and Braun. Speaking of Milwaukee, to tell the truth, if the Royals and Brewers switched leagues for 2008, the smart money might be on the Royals snagging more wins. But sadly, that isn’t a possibility. Stuck as they are in a tough division in a tough league, the Royals have a difficult climb ahead of them. While it may not be reflected in the raw win total, on merit, the 2008 squad will probably be the best Royals team since the mid-90s.
Progressing from awful to average is the easy part, and the Royals appear in line to do just that. The history of the game is filled with teams that shared in this very progress, were heralded as rising gate-crashers, but two years later were terrible again. We’ll see if they can make the next step, or if they’ll merely remain in the dustbin of the league.
The Dallas Mavericks have a huge game tonight with the Los Angeles Lakers, and, whether Mark Cuban lets any bloggers in or not, we’ll certainly be reading all about it on about 1,000 blogs. (OK, maybe 100.) Throwing down his gauntlet, Henry Abbott from ESPN’s True Hoop is making the trip. He seems to know that he’s not going to have locker room access, which means we should be in for a fascinating post tomorrow, presuming Henry’s willing to push it. Will he? Is it worth it?
That is to say: We love Henry’s site, but we’re not sure what ultimate point will be made. Abbott is just as justified to be in that locker room tonight as he was before he went to ESPN — he’s just as respected and diligent as he has always been — but that’s the undercurrent of Abbott’s trip. Sure, you’ll ban bloggers, Cuban … but will you ban an ESPN blogger?
We hope there’s some sort of scuffle with security. But we have our doubts. Good luck, Henry.
The NBA Closer is written by Matt McHale, who has a bit ‘o the Irish in him. Although a few testy Irishmen told him this weekend that the name “McHale” is actually Scottish. But hey, everybody’s Irish on St. Patty’s day, right? When he isn’t walking the streets of Chicago in his brand new green tuxedo, he can be found eating Lucky Charms at Basketbawful. Enjoy!
That’s why the Celtics were after Sam Cassell’s Lucky Charms. I imagine this is what the NBA Finals would look like this June if the West wasn’t so crazy good and the Spurs weren’t so damn old. San Antonio must have sipped down some Metamucil before the game though, because they dropped a 28-11 first quarter bomb on the Celtics and eventually pushed their lead to 22. But the Celtics had that whole Luck of the Irish thing going on, and they came storming back behind Paul Pierce’s 22 points. Kevin Garnett added 21 points and 8 rebounds, but more importantly, he put the clamps on Timmy Duncan, who scored only 10 points. All that said, the real Leprechaun of the night was Sam Cassell, who scored 17 points and used his big balls to hit the go-ahead three-pointer with 48 seconds left. And that, my friends, is the veteran clutchtasticness the C’s were hoping for. Speaking of veteran clutchtasticness, the Spurs almost used theirs to pull this one out after Bruce “Kick ‘Em While They’re Down” Bowen stole an inbounds pass from Kevin Garnett with two ticks left on the clock, but Big Shot Rob forgot to call time-out and then bonked a three-point attempt. Game over: Boston 93, Spurs 91. Fun fact: The Spurs’ Ime Udoka was back after missing a couple games with tarsal tunnel syndrome in his right ankle. Hey Ime, if you keep doing that I think you’re gonna go blind.
Um, a little help here, guys. Not only was Dwight Howard gobbling up the middle like some kind of mutant Pacman (23 points and 13 rebounds), it was raining threes in Orlando last night - 14 of them to be exact - as the Magic put the Cavaliers over their knee for a 104-90 win. LeBron (30 points, 9 rebounds, 6 assists) tried to stave off Orlando’s three-pronged attack by scoring seven of his team’s first nine points of the fourth, but man, he needed to use a defibrillator on some of his teammates. I thought that blockbuster trade was supposed to bring some relief. But, right now, Wally Szczerbiak (2 points, 1-for-4 shooting) only wishes he was as good as Larry Hughes, and as for Ben wallace…did somebody replace Big Ben with one of those Inflatable Defenders? Wallace had 2 points, 4 rebounds, and a blocked shot in 23 minutes, and I’m half-convinced those things happened by accident. Little did we all know that Delonte West (16 points and 6 rebounds) would end up being the steal in that trade. Rashard Lewis added 21 points and 5 three-pointers to the Magic cause, and Hedo “The Other Turkish Assassin” Turkoglu had 18 points and 7 boards.
Okay, okay. I’m done mocking him. For now. Actually typing these words out feels so very wrong, but I can’t deny it any longer: Mike Dunleavy Jr. is having a breakout season. He’s averaging 18 PPG, 5 RPG, and 3 APG. He’s shooting 47 percent from the field, 40 from three-point range, and 83 on the line. He’s scored 20 or more points 23 times. He’s scored 30 or more points eight times, including five times in the last 13 games (the Pacers are 7-1 in those games). He’s tied his career-high of 36 points four times, the last of which came last night versus the Knicks. And (I can’t believe I’m writing this) Dunleavy did it in (I can’t stop myself) dramatic fashion. He scored 16 points in the first quarter to help Indiana take a 38-32 lead. He scored nine in the final 2:35 of the third quarter as the Pacers pushed their lead to 98-89. And he still wasn’t finished! With 4:26 to go in the fourth and the Pacers holding off a Knick rally, Dunleavy - I swear to God this is true - pulled off the play of the game by driving through traffic, wrapping the ball behind his back, and throwing up a left-handed floater from the baseline that gave the Pacers a 102-91 lead. That was the dagger. The final score was Indiana 110, New York 98. The only blight on Dunleavy’s evening was that he blew a couple shots down the stretch that would have given him a new career-high, including a three-point airball with under a minute to go. Fun fact: Two of Dunleavy’s 36-point games this season have come against the Knicks. Fun fact 2: Isiah’s coaching resume now includes two games in which his team gave up a career-high to Mike Dunleavy Jr. and lost because of it. Final warning: I really, really think we need to send the authorities to Dunleavy’s house and have them check his basement for body snatcher pods. And fast.
This kid is good. Really freaking good. Every time I watch Chris Paul play, I find myself chanting “M-V-P!” Even when he’s sticking his boot in the butt of my hometown Bulls, which is exactly what he did last night by scoring 37 points and dropping 13 dimes in the Hornets’ 108-97 win. But it was more than just the numbers; Paul delivered the game-breakers, too. He dropped in a three-pointer with 2:47 left in the fourth quarter to tie the game at 96-all. Then, on his team’s next possession, he hit Tyson Chandler with an alley-oop pass to give the Hornets their first lead since half-time. Take me to bed or lose me forever, Chris Paul. Whoa. Sorry. Don’t know where that came from. Anyway, Bonzi wells hit a couple free throws and dunked one home (I didn’t know he could still do that) to finish Chicago off. The Bulls got 31 out of wee little Benny Gordon and 23 points and 12 rebounds from Drew Gooden’s beard. The Miller Genuine Draft “Yeah, Right” Moment of the Night: Chris Duhon didn’t make the trip to New Orleans due to flu-like symptons. Uh huh.
Calm down there, T.J. Ronnie Price, whom you don’t know as Utah’s backup point guard, led a 24-4 fourth quarter run that led the Jazz to a 96-79 win over the still Chris Bosh-less Raptors. But his biggest contribution might have been some killer D on T.J. Ford, who apparently didn’t like it. Ford was so upset after getting called for an offensive foul in the fourth, he freaking charged referee Eddie F. Rush and got himself ejected. ‘Cause, see, they still don’t allow that. Kyle Korver capped off this “Night of the Living Roleplayers” for the Jazz by scoring 17 (6-for-7) off the bench. Jose Calderon led the dinos with 16 points and 7 assists.
These teams suck, Part 1. Charlotte versus Memphis. Way to jumpstart my heart. About the only thing even vaguely interesting about this one - which the Grizzlies won 98-80, by the way - was that Derek Anderson arose from his sarcophagus to score a season-high 17 points for the Bobcats, which I presume is an all-time NBA record for a dead man. Sad fact: Even during a blowout in his team’s favor, Kwame Brown played only two minutes and 27 seconds. He grabbed one rebound. Meanwhile, Brian Cardinal added to his growing consonant collection by getting yet another DNP-CD.
These teams suck, Part 2. The L.A. Clippers versus Minnesota. It’s like a dark shadow has passed over my eyes, and all love I have for the sport of basketball is being drained from me. Need…to end this…quickly. Timberwolves 99, Clippers 90. Al Jefferson…double-double…of 22 points and 14 rewhatevers. Corey Maggette scored some points and, uh, rhymes with spaghetti. Must stop now. Random, useless statistic: Minnesota “improved” to 4-44 when scoring less than 100 points.
Yes, yes, we know: We have a bit of a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Rick Ankiel. But now that the lunacy of the final two months of last season are past us … is the guy really ready to be an every day outfielder.
A lot of people perked up and took notice last week when former Cal and Phoenix Suns guard Kevin Johnson announced that he was running for mayor of Sacramento. Johnson is known as a philanthropist, having devoted himself to several urban renewal projects around Sacramento (his hometown) since his retirement from basketball in 2000. He founded the St. Hope Academy in 1989, a nonprofit “faith-based” community development corporation. He’s taking on three-term incumbent Heather Fargo in the municipal election that will be held in June, which some are already calling a mini Hillary vs. Obama showdown. 
For the third consecutive season, we are proud to introduce the 
The Dallas Mavericks have a huge game tonight with the Los Angeles Lakers, and, whether Mark Cuban 
The NBA Closer is written by Matt McHale, who has a bit ‘o the Irish in him. Although a few testy Irishmen told him this weekend that the name “McHale” is actually Scottish. But hey, everybody’s Irish on St. Patty’s day, right? When he isn’t walking the streets of Chicago in his brand new green tuxedo, he can be found eating Lucky Charms at 
