Yesterday afternoon, the Tigers had just come back to tie the Twins at 3 in the eighth, and had runners on the corners with one out and Prince Fielder coming up. Ron Gardenhire brought in lefty Tyler Robertson to face him. 

Robertson's second pitch was a slider that floated more than it broke and stayed above the belt, and this is the violent crime Fielder commited upon it:

That put the Tigers up 6-3. Fielder, as you can see above, enjoyed the moment. His immediate reaction to the blast caused Kevin Goldstein to remark: "Nobody knows when they hit a home run better than Prince Fielder."

Darren "Doogie" Wolfson, a local Twin Cities sports media personality (and a good one), had a different take:

The #MNTwins should hit Prince next time they see Detroit. Showed up Robertson way too much with the pose.

— Darren Wolfson (@DarrenWolfson) July 5, 2012

Now, without repeating too much of (but while 100% endorsing) what Jason said here last week about the Aroldis Chapman somersaults, or what TCM said here about how intentionally throwing at batters is just never okay, I find I have something to say about this. I think there's a fine line out there, with "appropriate celebration of athletic success" on one side and "poor sportsmanship" on the other. I don't think what Prince did was anywhere close to that line.

Consider the context. They'd dropped two of three to the Twins, and sat below .500 and in third place in the very weak AL Central, and had (the Tigers, and Prince personally) been taking a lot of abuse from fans. The Tigers' offense had already stirred up the crowd with a run on two hits and a walk to that point in the inning. Fielder's blast was the most exciting single moment Tigers fans have had for a while now, and is the kind of event upon which people might come to look, if the Tigers are knocking on the door of the World Series fifteen weeks or so from now, as the one single moment that turned the whole damned season around. 

Now consider what Prince does. As soon as ball hits bat, he (and everyone else) knew it was out. In celebration, he kind of flips his bat away and admires the ball's flight for just a moment. This is all over in a second or two. After that, he points to his own dugout in celebration (you see it in one of the replays above), but then puts his head down and runs at a pretty decent clip (Larry hasn't been by to update his Tater Trot Tracker just yet). Then there are some high fives at the end, as you might expect, and that's the end of that. 

miSo it's all about that 1.5 seconds at the beginning. That's it! I suspect that, with the amount of focus and adrenaline required to hit major league pitching, I'd be inclined to have an instant reaction more or less like that one every time I hit a ball anything close to that hard. If it happened in the situation Prince's did, I might just do cartwheels around the bases. 

And I just can't fathom branding that sort of behavior as a negative. Players are entertainers, and the crowd was obviously entertained, so Fielder was doing his job. I tend to think this sort of counterreaction is generally just sour grapes -- what fans really should be mad at is Robertson for throwing the pitch, or Gardenhire for using Robertson, or the hitters and baserunners for managing just three runs on fifteen hits -- but those are "our" guys, so we get mad at the jerk in the other uniform for acting all happy in our misery, like the jerky jerkface he is.

It's just a bit silly. As I said, there's a fine line -- it might mean something different if the homer had put the Tigers up 16-1, or if he'd pointed at Robertson. And nobody likes to see a linebacker do a happy dance after a sack with his team down 42-7. That's just nothing like what actually happened here. 

He did a big -- potentially very big -- thing, and in the exact moment that it happened, Prince Fielder was really, understandably, happy about it. So for that, we're going to advocate endangering his career? C'mon.

Here's your daily recap:

We didn't have anything for you yesterday, mostly because the odds are you wouldn't have been here to read it, but if we had, we certainly would've talked a bit about Chipper Jones, who went 5-for-5 on Tuesday with two doubles, four RBI, and his only stolen base of the season. His Independence Day wasn't quite as exciting as all that, though he did go 2-for-4 to raise his overall season line to .317/.392/.485, good for a stellar .381 wOBA and approximately .310 TAv. Each of those numbers are his best since his brilliant, batting-title-winning 2008, and his 143 wRC+ and approximately 137 OPS+ are right in line with the average of his undoubtedly Hall of Fame-caliber career.

By now, you probably know that this is Chipper's last season. (If you hadn't yet, you'll have had your fill of that little fact by the end of next week's All-Star Game, to which Jones was named as a replacement.) And despite that performance, it's easy to see why he's hanging it up; he turned 40 early this year, and has four kids. He's played in only 47 of the Braves' 80 games, with one significant DL stint and a lot of other time off here and there. Once, Jones was actually kind of an ironman, missing fewer than ten team games in every year from 1995 to 2003. That's hard to remember, now that for he's been held to 143 games or fewer (often much fewer) in each of the last eight years. One imagines that the act of playing itself kind of hurts.

I really hope he keeps it up, though. This is a list of best OPS+es in a player's final season, minimum 150 PA. Jones isn't on it, because there's no way to get him on while keeping off everyone else whose "last year" is currently 2012 (Joey Votto, Andrew McCutchen, etc.), but he'd fit somewhere around Benny Kauff at #21. It's an interesting list. There are a handful of guys whose career ended in tragedy or controversy (Ed Delahanty, Barry Bonds, Joe Jackson, Roberto Clemente) and some apparent small sample size flukes (Joe Adcock, Ken Williams, Jim Thorpe). There's Dick Dietz, who seems like he was too much of a personal problem and too bad a catcher, and there's Dave Nilsson, who left in his prime to qualify for the Olympics and that sort of thing. And there are a few deadball era types whose endings have been lost to history (or at least to me).

And then, once you've peeled all that away, you're left with a handful of the really lucky ones -- guys who were still getting it done, but left because it had started to hurt a bit, or because they weren't quite what they once were, or just didn't have anything left to prove or to hang around for. Ted Williams and Mickey Mantle seem to fall into that category, and so, oddly enough, do Lefty O'Doul and Brian Downing. 

And that's what I'd like to see for Chipper, who's going to retire as probably the fourth or fifth greatest third baseman of all time and somehow has never quite gotten his due. A strong final season and a few months of overwrought fairwells on roadtrips and on ESPN might at least help even the score a bit.

Cee has asked The Common Man to relate this story from the SABR convention, and TCM promises he’ll stop mentioning the conference after this.  But if the prospect of riding in an elevator with Jonathan Broxton doesn’t entice you, probably nothing will.

The Common Man has a tendency to wake up early, given that he has two kids who generally need supervision in the wee hours.  So TCM roused himself at 7:30 on Saturday morning, showered, and headed out to forage up some bagels for breakfast.  On the way to the lobby, the elevator stopped and the mountainous Jonathan Broxton got on.  After confirming that the elevator was graded to handle livestock-sized humans, we proceeded to the lobby, not speaking.

As we exited the elevator, we silently agreed to go our separate ways.  It was never spoken; it was just an understanding.  He had to get to the park early for the noon start to a double header, and TCM really needed a fricking bagel.  But before he could leave the hotel, Broxton had to negotiate the overly complicated door system that kept the heat and the riff-raff out of the City Center Marriott.

He walked up to an automatic sliding door and stopped short.  The door did not open.  He cocked his head quizzically.  He backed up a step and walked toward it again.  The door did not open. He waved his arms.  The door did not open.  Because he is a mountain of a man, he reached up and waved his hand directly in front of the sensor.  No dice.  He tapped it.  Nope.  He grabbed it, like he was going to try to pry it open and MacGyver his way out of the hotel.  The door refused to budge.

Giving up all hope of the automatic door, Broxton looked over at the revolving door that The Common Man was making his way through, but seemed to decide, “nope, that’s not happening.”  He looked a little lost, and for a moment, The Common Man felt a twinge of pity for the man who had given hope to the Twins the night before, only to tear it away at the last minute by getting Trevor Plouffe out on a foul popup.  How would he get out of the hotel to get to the ballpark.

One of Kansas City’s staff came to his rescue.  Opening another door a ways down, he called Broxton over with a “Hey, Brox, over here!”  And Broxton shuffled over, hangdog, and exited through the portal, never noticing the sign clearly printed on the door: “Press switch to activate.”  God bless you, Brox.  Don’t ever change.  And good luck in the All Star voting.

Sometimes, over at ESPN, I contribute to a thing called "Triple Play." Last night, I wrote three answers to questions about the All-Star Game, and today, along with the responses from Christina Kahrl and Logan Burdine, they published them. I bring this up entirely as a matter of self-promotion and as a demand that you go read everything I write.

Ok, no, actually, I bring this up because there are aspects of the comments that bug me. Not the calling me or Christina or Logan a moron (especially the latter two—they're as far from morons as someone could be). Not the impassioned belief that because R.A. Dickey has the best ERA, he's the best pitcher. Not even the completely insane idea that Mike Napoli is less deserving of an All-Star slot than Jim Johnson (or Ryan Cook, for that matter).

No, the part that bugs me is the idea that there is only one way to choose an All-Star (or an All-Star starting pitcher once the roster of pitchers has been set). You've read me on this subject before—one of my early posts here was about the question of how you choose an MVP and what different theories of value might be available to you. The All-Star roster, if anything, presents a harder problem.

So you’ve probably seen Chris Jaffe’s SABR recap already today.  (You’ll see The Common Man in that first picture…if you know what a sliver of the top of his head looks like.  He’s sitting directly across from Aaron Gleeman at the far end). But if you don't trust Chris (and why should you?) here’s what The Common Man thinks you missed out on if you didn’t attend:

1. Terry Ryan – Ryan said a lot of things in his discussion that TCM doesn’t agree with about closers and about playing hurt, but Ryan also proved a warm and engaging speaker, and incredibly genuine while trying not to stray too far from his corporate-speak.  He’s very self-effacing as well and blunt about the team’s performance in 2011 and 2012.  He’ll receive next year’s Roland Hemond Award at SABR43
2. Terrific Presentations – As much as The Common Man thinks he knows about baseball, there are so many stories and facts that he’s never come across.  And probably never would without the tremendous presentations at SABR.  Alan Nathan gave a tremendous talk about bat construction (which TCM didn’t attend, but which Bill recommends very highly).  Robert Fitts’ video and photography from the 1934 MLB tour of Japan that made Babe Ruth a cultural icon in the Far East was incredibly entertaining (Robert’s got a book out on the trip, by the way).  Mark Armour, who heads up SABR’s excellent biography project, gave a terrific presentation on the spread and development of artificial turf, and how (paradoxically) the more traditional-minded owners were the ones most eager to use it.
3. The Perils of DNA Testing in the Dominican Republic – This was a presentation by University of Minnesota PhD candidate Ben Wiggins, which looked at how Major League Baseball and individual teams are conducting DNA testing on Dominican prospects to ascertain players’ identities and (perhaps in violation of US law) test for potential genetic problems.  This is some serious Gattaca-level controversy, as it’s illegal to discriminate against someone based on their DNA profile.  It also speaks to the Wild West that has been the Dominican, which is being addressed in the forthcoming documentary Ballplayer: Pelotero, produced by Bobby Valentine and due to be released on July 13.  We’ll have a review up on the film next week.
4. Ping Pong with Rob Neyer – On a little-known 6^th floor area of the hotel, we found a ping-pong table.  The Common Man was victorious over Bill and Cee and thus claimed the title of Supreme Ruler of The Platoon Advantage for the next year.  But TCM was also roundly defeated by both Carson Cistulli and Rob Neyer, though TCM demands a rematch at a future date after several months of intensive training.  If you haven’t watched Rob Neyer and Carson Cistulli play table tennis into the wee hours, you haven’t lived.
5. Official Scorers – There was a panel of three official scorers who discussed various plays, guys who tried to get them to change calls, and why they make the calls they do.  If you ever think that an official scorer is being too lenient, this is exactly the kind of talk that can turn you around on the issue.  Their stories of terrible and interesting plays was great (and their recall was tremendous) and it generated the line of the conference, as the “save rule” was rechristened the “didn’t totally shit the bed rule.”
6. Old players – Because the Twins had a double header on Saturday, only Tim Laudner could show up for the players panel.  But he was incredibly engaging before he had to leave early, far more entertaining and likeable than his on-air personality.  Then Frank Quilicy, Bob “Rocky” Johnson, and Bill Davis told stories about their time playing in the late 1960s and early 1970s.  Davis was especially interesting, as he was a huge prospect and the first 1B in Padres history, but had his career derailed by an Achilles tear.  He had great stories about playing for Warren Spahn and rooming with Lou Piniella at AAA.
7. Drinking – SABR is kind of like Mardi Gras for baseball nerds.  The Common Man was giving out beads whenever someone showed him their slide rule.  Seriously though, it was a great opportunity to meet and get to know legends in our community.  Guys like Neyer, Sean Forman, John Thorn, Dorothy Seymore Mills, Aaron Gleeman, Chris Jaffe, Steve Treder, and more.  Also, Carson Cistulli was there.  And people seem to like him.
8. Lots of Baseball – Two games at Target Field for The Common Man, and a game back in Madison last night.
9. New Friends – In addition to the people above, you missed out on coming to love TCM, Bill, Cee, Wendy Thurm, Colin Wyers, the impossibly young Jack Moore, Liz Roscher (of The Good Phight), Jeff Polman, Dianagram, newbie David Temple (@templedavid; follow him) and more who I’m missing.

So come next year, when we’ll be in Philadelphia.  The Common Man needs more people to buy him beer.

Here is a post that shows Aroldis Chapman doing two celebratory somersaults toward home plate after recording the final out of the game. Predictably, Dusty Baker gave a "we don't play that way" quote, and speculation abounds: will Joey Votto get a pitch in his ribs in retaliation? Will the Reds fine Chapman? How many absurd columnists will write screeds about how Chapman is unprofessional, and how many bloggers will hit back with screeds about how writers are old fogies?

I'm writing in the evening on June 26th, so most of this reaction and re-reaction hasn't happened yet, but by the time you're reading on June 27th, you'll surely have no shortage of material to consume on the subject.

But what is the subject? A celebration, right? A guy got happy because he accomplished a task, reached a goal. Is it embarrassing to the other team that Chapman somersaulted? Then maybe they should try winning the game. Does it disrespect the game itself? I'd love an explanation of how that's the case. It's a game in which a dude throws a ball and another dude tries to hit that ball with a stick. If he successfully hits the ball, a bunch of people run around. People slide around in the dirt and grass. It's trite, but it's trite because it's true: sports are an amusing recreational activity during which we are supposed to behave, to a large degree, like children. We get sweaty and dirty and worry later about the consequences. We shout and we whoop and holler when we win. We pump our fists and jump in the air and point to the sky.

But somersault! My gosh, that's unimaginable. How could anyone dare somersault?

Have you seen the way teams celebrate after a walk-off home run? I have pretty recently, actually, because I'm an A's fan, and Derek Norris hit a three-run homer to power Oakland to a 4-2 victory over the Giants on Sunday. Do you know what happened? Twenty-four men gathered around home plate jumping and laughing. Norris came around the bases, tossed aside his helmet, and jumped onto the plate. His teammates mobbed him, pounding his head, pounding each other, hugging and dancing and laughing and yelling. Norris's shirt was ripped off at some point. Later, during a television interview, Norris got a pie in the face from Josh Reddick. This is June, by the way, and the A's won't play a meaningful game (in terms of their own playoff implications) all season.

But somersault! Well that's just disrespectful. We don't play that way.

Jon Paul Morosi is one of the intellectually bankrupt mainstream writers working today.  He's exceptional at building straw men arguments against those who supposedly think that RBI aren't meaningful (of course they're important, they just aren't a function of a player's quality), overly glib, and infuriating in his smugness.

His latest piece, in which he lauds the Blue Jays for their "anti-Moneyball" approach, not only fails to understand the key concepts of Michael Lewis' seminal piece (almost 10 years after the book came out), but completely whiffs when describing the amateur draft, which formed one of the most memorable sections of the work:

The Oakland A’s had seven of the first 39 picks in the 2002 amateur draft; the cache of extra selections resulted from the departures of free agents the franchise could not afford. The strategy the A’s used to select the seven players — out with the scouts, in with the stats — was immortalized in Michael Lewis’ bestselling book and the motion picture starring Brad Pitt.

The revolutionary draft occurred 10 years ago this month.

History has judged it a failure.

Pardon The Common man, but that's complete bullshit.  Morosi believes the fact that the players the A's have drafted have only accounted for one All Star appearance is an indictment of their process in 2002, and that the Jays' decision to carry more scouts than any other team in the game is some kind of response to that (ten years later).  Now, one could (correctly) argue that, by increasing the number of scouts (who work fairly cheaply) to get a deeper and broader knowledge of amateur talent and get a leg up on other teams, the Blue Jays are exploiting weaknesses in the system, which was of course what Moneyball was all about.

But Morosi doesn't get that.  He also doesn't understand that the A's ended up with one of the most successful drafts in the league that year:

As you can see, the A’s had the 5^th best draft in the game by this metric.  Now, that’s not a definitive ranking for the overall draft.  After all, the A’s had more picks than other clubs did, after losing Jason Isringhausen, Jason Giambi, and Johnny Damon to free agency.  But they hit on a lot of them.  Nick Swisher and Joe Blanton became quality Major Leaguers, while Jared Burton, Mark Teahan and John Baker are all banging around as role players).  In fact, if you take out Swisher and Blanton, the A’s still had a better draft than nine other clubs.

And it certainly matters how you define “success” or “failure” in a draft.  As you look at the results of each team’s draft, it’s clear that all it takes to make a team’s draft successful is a single big hit.  Like how the Reds hit with Joey Votto or the Phillies with Cole Hamels.  In fact, the players listed in the above table represent 76.9% of the total WAR acquired by these franchises in the draft.  And the A’s had, not just one but two solid hits.

Finally, it’s not fair to judge a draft simply by the players chosen, but by what’s done with the players.  The A’s used Mark Teahen, for example, as part of a package to acquire Octavio Dotel in 2004.  After three good years with Nick Swisher, the A’s sent him to the White Sox for Gio Gonzalez and Ryan Sweeney.  Blanton was dealt to the Phillies for Josh Outman.  Then Gonzalez, Sweeney, and Outman were all dealt, and led to the A’s acquiring Seth Smith (.260/.378/.448, 129 OPS+), Josh Reddick (.266/.344/.522, 136 OPS+), Tommy Milone (8-5, 3.83), Derek Norris, and the numbers 36 (Brad Peacock) and 57 (A.J. Cole) prospects in Major League Baseball according to Baseball America, ensuring that the A’s will benefit from the 2002 draft for the next several years to come.

So no.  No matter how you look at it, the 2002 draft was not a failure.  No matter how you try and spin it, the A’s came out of 2002 with a strong foundation through their draft, which they’ve leveraged well even as the rest of the club has struggled.  And any success the Blue Jays have with their own methods today (we haven’t even seen the results on a Major League field yet) is not a rejection of the principles laid out by Lewis, but a celebration and adaptation of them.  To suggest otherwise is either grossly ignorant or intellectually dishonest.  Which would you rather be, Jon?

The Common Man has no idea what Ben Cherington and the Red Sox think they've accomplished by trading Kevin Youkilis.  Yes, he's 33.  Yes, his presence complicates the depth chart somewhat.  And yes, the Red Sox have a younger, healthier, cheaper, and (for now) better option in Will Middlebrooks to play 3B.  But despite the mounting pressure of the media to resolve the situation, the truth of the matter is that the Red Sox didn't have to make this move.

Financially, the Red Sox still owed him $6.74 million this year, plus a $1 million buyout, but they apparently sent $5.5 million with him to the White Sox, and brought back at least one Major League player in Brent Lillibridge, meaning they only saved themselves less than a million bucks in 2012. That's essentially a rounding error to the Red Sox.

Roster wise, sure having Youkilis made it a little awkward.  With Middlebrooks supplanting him, Youk was going to have to pick up time subbing at 1B, 3B, and DH.  And that's certainly not an effecient use of his talents, assuming he actually gets healthy and starts hitting.  But having too many good players isn't necessarily a problem, especially when your club is as injury prone as the Sox seem to be. One of nice side-benefits of having a player like Youkilis is his ability to provide depth at multiple positions for the club.

And having a player who is providing only a portion of his potential contributions from off of the bench is better than getting zero production from the players replacing him.  Despite his offensive explosion last year (.258/.340/.505 with 13 homers in 216 plate appearances), Brent Lillibridge is a 28 year old career .215/.283/.358 hitter, whose sunk to .175/.232/.190 in 70 plate appearances this year. That's an OPS+ of 16. Zach Stewart, the other piece acquired for Youk, is 25 on his fourth organization with a 5.92 ERA in 97.1 innings.  There's a non-miniscule chance that he'll be a capable back end starter for a couple years.  But that's about the best you can hope for out of him.  He certainly hasn't contributed anything of valuable in 2012.

Finally, this deal doesn't solve a roster crunch for the Sox.  Yes, Youkilis is not a typical utility player, while Lillibridge fits that mold better.  But Youkilis does provide significant positional flexibility, and the Sox already have a utility infielder who can play in the middle of the diamond and who doesn't really hit much in Nick Punto.  What's more, the Sox are going to have to create extra room on both their 25 man and 40 man rosters to accommodate the new guys.

And really, in a season that's already become a circus for the media, is having Kevin Youkilis hanging around really going to add anything appreciable to the distraction?  Simply holding onto him until the Sox actually got offered something of value for the guy with the 126 career OPS+, or using him in whatever role they could craft for him, is absolutely a viable option, and was the best course in this case.

Meanwhile, the White Sox pick up a great buy-low rental for the rest of 2012 and replace the worst position player in their lineup in Brent Morel (.177/.225/.195, 15 OPS+), and all they have to give up are a couple of guys who have contributed less than nothing to the club this year.  And they did it for less than $1 million extra.  What a terrific deal for Kenny Williams.

Last night, team owner Jeffrey Loria held a closed door meeting with Marlins players and coaches, presumably to express displeasure at the club's freefall since June 5, which has left them just a game above the Phillies in the race not to be last in the NL East.

Now, many would doubt Jeffrey Loria's ability to inspire a room full of grown men to play a game better.  They'd say, Jeffrey Loria's a weasel and a thief, having taken baseball and office supplies from Montreal when he sold the Expos to Bud Selig.  They'd say, he's an art dealer, not Knute Rockne.  But those people don't know what Jeffrey Loria knows about public speaking.  While we don't know exactly what was said during the larger team meeting, we do have an exclusive transcript of his breakout session with the relievers afterwards:

Jeffrey Loria:  Let me have your attention for a moment.  Cuz you're talkin' about what? You're talking about...bitching about that ump who missed a call?  Some son of a bitch don't want to offer at your slider, somebody don't want the pitches you're throwing, some batter you're tryin' to screw?  Are they all here?

Ozzie Guillen: All but one.

Loria: Well, I'm going anyway.  Let's talk about something important.  PUT THAT COFFEE DOWN.  Coffee's for closers only.

Edward Mujica: (Laughs)

Loria: You think I'm fucking with you?  I am not fucking with you.  I'm here from down town.  I'm here from Conine and McKeon.  And I'm here on a mission of mercy.  You're name's Mujica?

Mujica: Yeah.

Loria: You call yourself a reliever, you son of a bitch?

Heath Bell: I don't gotta to listen to this shit.

Loria: You certainly don't pal. Cuz the good news is you're fired.  The bad news is you've got, all you've got just one month left to regain your jobs, starting with tonight.  Starting with tonight's game.  Oh?  Have I got your attention now?  Good.  Cuz we're adding a little something to this month's saves and holds contest.  As you all know, first prize is a Cadillac El Dorado.  Anybody want to see second prize?  Second prize is a set of steak knives.  Third prize is you're fired.  You get the picture?  Are you laughing now?

You got leads.  Stanton and Ramirez hit good pitches to give you those leads.  You can't close the leads you're given?  You can't close shit.  YOU ARE SHIT!  HIT THE BRICKS, PAL AND BEAT IT BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING OUT!

Mujica: The leads are weak.

Loria:  The leads are weak?  You're weak.  I been in this game 15 years.  Well, not IN the game, per se, but owning a team.

Bell: What's your name?

Loria: Fuck you!  That's my name!  You know why, mister?  Cuz you drove an H3 to get here tonight; I was driven in a stretch H3 by a chauffuer actually named Jarvis.  THAT's my name.  And your name is you're wanting.  You can't play in the man's game, you can't close them, then go home and tell your wife your troubles.  Because only one thing counts in this life: get them to ground out, fly out and strike out!  You hear me? 

A...B...C.  A: Always. B: Be.  C: Closing.  Always be closing.  ALWAYS BE CLOSING!  A.I.D.A.  Attention, interest, decision, action. Attention: do I have your attenion?  Interest: Are you interested?  I know you are, because it's strikeout or walk.  You close or you hit the bricks.  Decision: HAVE YOU MADE YOUR DECISION FOR CHRIST?  And action.  A.I.D.A.  Get out there.  You got the prospects coming in.  Do you think they came in to get out of the rain?  A guy don't grab a bat lest he wants to swing.  They're sitting out there waiting for you to get them out.  Are you going to take it?  Are you man enough to take it?

You wanna work here?  CLOSE!  You think this is abuse?  You can't take this, how can you take the abuse you get in a game?  You don't like it?  Leave.  I can go out there tonight, with the stuff you got, and strike out the side for two straight innings.  Can you?  Can you?  Go and do likewise.  A.I.D.A.  Get mad you son of a bitches.  Get mad. 

You know what it takes to pitch out of the bullpen?  It takes brass balls to pitch out of the bullpen.  Go and do likewise, gents.  The outs are out there, you pick 'em up, they're yours.  You don't, I got no sympathy for you.  You wanna go out in that game and close, close and it's yours.  And if not, you're gonna be cleaning my spikes.  And you know what you'll be saying, bunch of losers, sitting around a bar sayin' "Oh yeah, I was a reliever.  It's a tough racket."

These are the new leads.  These are the new Marlins leads.  And to you they're gold, and you don't get them.  Why?  Because to give them to you is just throwing them away.  They're for closers.  I'd wish you good luck, but you wouldn't know what to do with it if you got it.

Wow, inspiring stuff.  I wonder what he said to Gaby Sanchez.  Very strange that, for all of Loria's expert motivation, it didn't have an affect on the bullpen's performance tonight.  Mujica and Choate conspired to steal the lead in the 8th and take it across the street to the Red Sox, who win this one and sweep the series.  Maybe next time, Loria should give his "No retreat, no surrender!" speech.

For a long time, The Common Man labored under the assumption that his Twins were the worst team in baseball.  And for a long time, it sure seemed like that was the case.  The Twins are still have trouble cobbling together a rotation, mind you, but at least they haven't gone the route of the Rockies and simply given up entirely.

The Rockies announced on Tuesday that they were going to experiment with a four man rotation for the rest of the year, allowing starters to go just 75 pitches, while ramping up the bullpen's responsibilities (though Jim Tracy somehow thought this would reduce bullpen strain).  Then last night, Todd Helton failed to touch first base on a force out with two outs and a runner on 3B in the bottom of the 9th, allowing the Phillies to come back from a run down to steal a win:

And thus did the Rox lose their 12th in 13 games.

The entire franchise is embarrassing and should cost both Jim Tracy and Dan O'Dowd their jobs.  It's not that giving extensions to Troy Tulowitzki and Carlos Gonzalez was a problem, it was locking them up for as long as they did when they didn't have to.  It's not that giving Jamie Moyer a shot was a problem, it's that they didn't have anyone better to give a rotation spot to.  It's not that using a four man rotation is a bad idea (just the opposite, actually), it's the process that led to it as the last remaining option that's unforgiveable.  It's not that Rockies are worse on a talent level than the Twins or the Padres or the Astros.  It's that they're a rudderless, chaotic, dart-throwing mess, with no semblance of a plan to either finish the season or to get better.

At least we know one thing, none of this is Michael Cuddyer's fault.  That guy's a leader.