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Pitching is the key, but a long season sure doesn't hurt
Let's all get a grip right now: there
are 162 games in the season, and so far, the Mariners have lost only three.
Okay, so they've played only seven as I write this, but turn that around
and their average is an incredible .571. Not bad for a team whose low expectations
by the press seem outweighed only by the early predictions of gloom and
doom from its so-called fans. An entire season to go, and already the refrain
of "WHAT?! This again?!" can be heard from Seattle's couch-bound skippers.
Okay, I'll confess that I was nearly one of them. Our 8-2 Opening Night
loss to the White Sox was disappointing, but more than that, things seemed
all too familiar. I even caught myself ready to blame Ayala for another
ball sailing over Griffey's shoulder. Actually, I need to admit one more
thing:
Like most M's fans, I cheered on high when I heard the news of Ayala's
trade. Dogs in distant lands could've heard me. God bless you, Montreal;
your faith is stronger than mine.
That news was a glimmer of light in an otherwise dreary spring. And
when the first few losses began to wear on me and I began to get, in the
words of Yogi Berra, that deja-vu feeling "all over again" - 17 Oakland
hits in one game and the one I choose to attend - I reminded myself of
just how many games have yet to be played... and I relaxed. We're nowhere
near to hitting last season's depths of mediocrity.
Now, since I'm not a cave-dweller, I realize that we've lost Alex Rodriguez
to injury for up to six weeks, and both his sure hands and his power will
be missed. But not to worry - he'll be back. He's young, strong and still
very hungry for the game. And now, of course, we've lost rookie second
baseman Carlos Guillen for the rest of the season, due primarily to Oakland's
Tony Phillips doing his best Ty Cobb impression (see "Overaggessive Jackass"
under Cobb's picture in any encyclopaedia) in a play at the plate on Saturday.
Bad news, sure. One week into the '99 season and we're already sending
Get Well cards to two of our infielders. Message
to Segui and Davis: avoid rampaging outfielders and twisting knees, please.
But the key to this season - to every season - is pitching,
pitching, and more pitching. A powerful lineup with power hitting is clearly
not the Mariners' shortcoming, it never has been (okay, we'll talk about
timely
hitting another day. How many times did they leave the bases loaded against
the White Sox?). Last season, in an ultimately futile effort to balance
out their ineffective bullpen, M's hitters slugged their way to 859 runs.
But they can't keep that up for another 155+ games. Their arms would fall
off first.
No, keeping close games within our reach is key. For heaven's sake,
holding sure things within our reach is key. And our new veteran
closer, Jose Mesa, holds that key. The mess that was the '98 Mariners bullpen
blew an astounding number of both close games and (seemingly) sure things.
Holding the score close through the fifth inning is one thing; simply giving
the game away in the ninth is another.
One reminder of that strategy (to baffle and ultimately outmaneuver
the opposing team, perhaps) is last season's game in Boston during which
the M's lead by five runs - five runs! - going into the bottom of the ninth.
Final score? Boston, 9-7. I shudder when I think of that game. We
went through four pitchers in one inning, doing away with eight innings'
worth of work by our then-ace, Randy Johnson. No wonder the guy wanted
out.
That is what must not, CAN NOT happen this year. Are you listening Mr.
Woodward? Fans would begin tearing down Safeco Field with their bare hands
and demanding a refund. All the homeruns and beautifully-turned double
plays in the world wouldn't eliminate fan anger if they were to witness
another season of completely blown opportunities. They don't expect only
wins, but watching a bullpen seem united only when snatching defeat out
of the jaws of victory is clearly not what they have in mind when they
buy their tickets, turn on their TV's or plan an entire family vacation
around a single road trip.
Pitchers have the power to make the excessively long baseball season
seem either a blessing or a curse. It's a blessing when your pitchers can
still win with fewer hits for a few weeks even when an integral player
like ARod is hurt. The curse starts when five-run leads aren't enough to
hold your team for one inning, when it takes four pitchers just to lose.
Visualize that season stretching out in front of you and you begin to wonder
about this thing called golf that everyone else yammers on about.
But therein lies the beauty of the beginning of a season: everything
seems possible.
Especially when Ayala is in an entirely different country. Oh Canada,
indeed.
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