It’s a lousy realization, but it’s true: the Washington Nationals have a very good bullpen; but if Wednesday night is any indication, the Braves’ bullpen is better. After giving up a home run to the relentless Michael Morse, the Braves’ bullpen of Eric O’Flaherty, Jonny Venters and Craig Kimbrel came on to pitch three innings of perfect (hitless and walkless) baseball, and the Nationals went down to defeat in Atlanta, 3-1.

Of course, one of the reasons the Braves’ bullpen is good is that they follow a solid starting staff. On Wednesday, the starter-of-choice was Derek Lowe, the tough veteran who has had his ups-and-downs, but who seems to match up well against the Anacostia Nine. Wednesday was no different. Lowe pitched a solid, if not brilliant, six innings. He gave up just three hits while striking out six.

While Nats’ skipper Davey Johnson criticized his team for not being aggressive at the plate, he praised Lowe. “He kept the ball down pretty much all night,” Johnson said. “I thought he really had command of the outside corner. He pitched a good ballgame. We didn’t get much offensively. I like us being aggressive. I thought we got some pitches to hit, but some days it’s like that.”

But Johnson’s most effusive praise was reserved for Braves’ relievers, fast becoming acknowledged as the best in baseball. “Their back side of the bullpen has been almost unhittable. You have to get the Braves pretty early,” Johnson said. The truth is in the stats: O’Flaherty picked up his 25th hold, Venters his 28th, while Kimbrel notched his 41st save. Kimbrel’s save set a rookie record.

Those Are The Details, Now For The Headlines: For some reason, the Braves have always produced good power hitters. The current generation’s long ball artist, Chipper Jones, compares well with Braves’ great Eddie Mathews who (if it weren’t for Mike Schmidt) would be considered the best hitting third baseman of all time. There’s also Henry Aaron (of course), who defined greatness for the Braves.

But there have been others: Dale Murphy (with 398 HRs), David Justice (with a measly 305), and Joe Adcock — with 336. What’s shocking about Adcock is that he’s arguably one of the greatest Braves’ of all time, but has not made it into the Braves’ Hall of Fame.

(more…)

The Washington Nationals’ bats are coming alive — with Josh Willingham, Adam Dunn and Ian Desmond all homering for the Anacostia Nine — as the Nats humbled the Braves in a 6-3 win at Nats Park on Tuesday night. Livan Hernandez registered the win, but this was not the same lights-out performance of his previous starts. Hernandez speculated that he had gotten too much rest — seven days off, in all — between throws.”When you pitch on seven days, it was a little different. Sometimes, six days is a lot,” Hernandez said after the game. “Seven days is too much, I think. I felt like I was all over the place. I didn’t miss by much. I had 41 pitches in the first inning and only one run. I will take it any day. I tried to keep the ballgame close and not make too many mistakes.”

Hernandez survived a rocky first inning to pitch 5.1 in all, scraping out a win against a tough Braves offense. Future Hall of Famer Chipper Jones was impressed:”I’ll say this about Livan: The repertoire might not blow your mind, but that guy knows how to pitch,” Jones said. “He changes speeds with every pitch that he has — whether it’s the fastball, curveball, changeup, slider or cutter. He throws nothing over the middle of the plate. Everything is two inches off either corner. That’s what has made him so successful. He has great mechanics out there on the mound. He uses a minimal amount of effort and, more times than not, gets the job done.”

Speaking of Chipper Jones: This is the third baseman’s seventeenth season in the majors, and perhaps his last. His numbers will undoubtedly put him in the Hall of Fame — a .307 batting average, with 428 homers. It’s time to start thinking about Chipper’s career, and where he stands in comparison with other third sackers. Bill James points out that the Braves have a history of good third basemen: Jimmy Collins, Bob Elliott (who was NL MVP in 1947), Terry Pendleton and Darrell Evans (who might have been just above average — but probably not much more) and, of course, the incomparable Eddie Mathews.

If I had to pick who was better, I would pick Mathews, simply on the basis of his power: Mathews launched 512 dingers, Jones will be lucky if he hits 450. The air is thin at the top of baseball’s list of greats and a 60 homer difference might not seem like a lot, but it is. It’s two seasons worth of round trippers, or three. Mathews was a better long ball hitter, with more power — despite Chipper’s obviously prodigious shots. Mathews stole only 68 bases in 17 years (compared to Chipper’s 144), but Mathews knew how to leg-out triples (he hit 72 in all, compared to Chipper’s 37). The statistic, basic as it seems, is illuminating: Chipper has a higher OBP and a lot more doubles, but Mathews was the smarter base runner who knew how to read outfield arms. The number of triples is important. Mathews played in Milwaukee County Stadium in the 1950s, hardly a big ballpark.

In almost everything else outside of power, Jones and Mathews seem almost perfectly matched. But then there’s the intangible. Mathews was a giant among Braves, even on a team of pennant and World Series’ behemoths — like Aaron and Crandel and Adcock. But Mathews was a leader of the Milwaukee version of the Braves in a way that Chipper was not a leader of the later Atlanta version. And considering Henry Aaron’s quiet but efficient career, and forcefull personality, that’s saying a lot. Or perhaps, I simply saw Mathews play more than Chipper and at a more impressionable age. But Mathews was a colossus, a man who defined the Braves in his era. Chipper was also a leader, though more by example; he did not bestride the Braves of Atlanta like Mathews did in beer town. The Braves of the ’90s were the Braves of Smoltz and Maddux and Glavine. The Milwaukee Braves were Eddie Mathews’ team.

Bill James might disagree on this last point, but in weighing the statistical comparison he would admit that picking one over the other might be a matter of personal preference. “Chipper isn’t a great defensive player — but neither was Mathews. Both of them were competent, coping-skills fielders who played a relatively difficult position, the hot corner, but not terribly well. They’re comparable hitters; they’re comparable fielders. They have had a comparable number of outstanding seasons. If I had to choose? If I had to choose an all-time, all-city Braves team or else go bungee jumping, I would choose Chipper. They’re both great players.” When Chipper retires, he’ll not only be in a virtual tie with Mathews for all-time greatest Braves third basemen, he’ll be right behind him (in my estimation) for honors as one of the very best of all time in all of baseball — with Chipper ranked third in the top ten: Mike Schmidt, Eddie Mathews, Chipper Jones, Brooks Robinson, Frank Baker, Jimmy Collins, George Brett, Wade Boggs, Stan Hack and Pie Traynor. Any way you look at it, however, Jones has had a hell of a career.

Faced with a must-win situation, the Atlanta Braves stayed in the race for a wild card birth in the N.L. playoffs with a three-hit shutout pitched by Chops’ ace Javier Vazquez. Vazquez was brilliant in his nine inning, 4-1 complete game outing, though John Lannan was nearly as good: the Nats’ hard luck lefthander pitched seven innings of six hit ball, giving up runs to errors and a hit lost in the lights. The Nats had one chance to give Vazquez something to think about – in the fourth inning, but Ryan Zimmerman was stranded at second as Josh Willingham and Pete Orr flied out. The only Nats’ run came on a solo shot by Josh Bard.  The Nats were once again victimized by poor play: an error by Pete Orr, a ball lost in the lights, a fly ball that should have been caught but wasn’t. This was the Nats 101st loss of the season, but the win leaves the Braves just three games behind the Colorado Rockies, who have lost two.

Down On Half Street: Nats 320 has a transcript of Josh Willingham’s fan appearance at ESPN Zone (a public service, that). Willingham’s comments on the differences between playing at Sh-ti Field as compared to Shea Stadium are interesting. He can’t quite admit that he thinks the new home of the Mets is a terrible park, but he comes close. “I didn’t get to play in New Yankee Stadium because I was home. But as far as Shea Stadium and Citi Field, there is absolutely no comparison. Citi Field is so big. The wall is so tall. And like I was saying, when you are running for a ball in the gap in left centerfield—it never ends” . . .

It’s old news, but Nats Farm Authority has Nationals roster for the Instructional League. All eyes are already on Stephen Strasburg — and Drew Storen. But, there are others to watch, including forgotten fireballer Josh Smoker. Once upon a time, in a draft far far away, Smoker was a left handed fireballing supplemental first round prodigy: and all things to all men. Then he went 0-4 at Hagerstown, before ending up in the Gulf League. He reported a little tightness in his shoulder and ended up under the knife with a couple of bloody bone spurs rolling around on the shiny steel table beside him. It’ll be interesting to see how he does. The Nats insist that he’ll be ready for spring training. With all the attention on Strasburg, it’s easy to forget Smoker, who’s only 20 . . .  

 

Those Are The Details, Now For The Headlines: The Tomahawks are on a run — they have won three in a row and 13 of their last 16. Vazquez has carried the team on his arm — in his last four outings he’s 4-0 with a 0.72 ERA. Vazquez and Jair Jurrjens have provided the Braves with an almost unbeatable one-two punch over the last two weeks, just in time to challenge the Rockies. With all the buzz about the L.A. and San Francisco pitching staffs, the troubles with Phuzzy closer and emergent head case Brad Lidge, the oohing and ahhing over Carpenter and Wainwright and the very predictable Gammonization of Dice-K (isn’t he wonderful, isn’t he fantastic, isn’t he just something), Jurrjens has been lost in the chaff. He’s had one bad outing in the last ten games and has the sixth best ERA in baseball. The heat of the September wild card race has made him pitch better: like Vazquez, he’s won three in a row. If you squeeze your eyelids together real tight and furrow your brow and think real hard you can imagine what he might become: he’s 23.

If you’re from my generation (those of us born before the Reformation), it’s hard to think of the Braves as a pitching dependent team. The franchise has a history of breeding legendary sluggers : from Henry Aaron and Eddie Mathews to Bob Horner and Chipper Jones. Even when the Braves were bad they could count on the bat of at least one slugger to make headlines — with a Rico Carty or Dale Murphy or Chris Chambliss (or Sarge, for that matter) providing the lumber. Even in the 1990s, when the Braves were on their historic run, the triumverate of Glavine, Smoltz and Maddux were complimented by a trio of titans, all “hitterish” — Chipper and Justice (that bane, that bum) and (of course) Fred McGriff.

But not this year.

The Chops’ top ’09 on base guy is Adam LaRoche (a mid-season acquisition), their dominant long-ball artist is catcher Brian McCann (with a measly 20) and their spark plug is slash-and-burn singles hitter and glove man Martin Prado. Ryan Church, brought aboard to provide some spark (as well as a warm body stand-in for dearly departed Jeff Francoeur — whom the Braves couldn’t wait to dump) is slumping – with just four dingers. Worse yet, the normally dependable Chipper Jones has 17 home runs, well below his average, and is struggling at the plate. Finally, Nate McLouth, the former Ahoy and mid-season “steal,” not only looks average, he is: he’s hitting .264. That leaves the hopes of a post-season pinned firmly on Vazquez, Jurrjens and all-around clutch pitcher and tantrum thrower Derek Lowe. Add rookie phenom Tommy Hanson and a solid bullpen (saves leader Rafael Soriano — and set-up artist Mike Gonzalez) and you can see why Braves’ fans are excited. With a handful-plus games to go the Braves’ll need some help from the suddenly wobbly Rockies, but don’t count ‘em out.

Back on August 24, Sports Illustrated put the fading baseball card industry on life support: “The sports trading card industry is dealing with an uncomfortable present and an uncertain future,” SI intoned. “The sales of cards peaked in 1991 at $1.2 billion, according to estimates by Sports Collector’s Digest, but slid to $400 million by the turn of the century and to $200 million last year.” Take it from me — SI is right; baseball cards, once priced at a nickel a pack, now appeal to a shrinking market of grey haired oldsters who are less interested in the game than in finding a good investment. The proof, they say, is in the pricing. The last great baseball card made by the industry (according to the SI report) was ”Ken Griffey Jr.’s 1989 Upper Deck Star Rookie” — the number 1 card in Upper Deck’s inaugural set, and it fetches a pretty fair price; it can bring as much as $150 on ebay, depending on the day and buyer. But it’s more than that: you can go into any store where kids hang out and look for baseball cards and they’re not there. And if they were the kids wouldn’t buy them: the cards are too expensive. The people who make baseball cards have made a terrible mistake — their cards aren’t for kids, they’re for collectors.

But the SI report tells only a part of the story. While the appeal of baseball cards has been shrinking, the market for older cards has not, according to those card dealers who specialize in sets from eras prior to 1980 — the date that is usually given for when the market began to be saturated by an increased number of manufacturers, specialty sets and over printing. It makes sense: when card production became unlimited, card values plummeted. But the very earliest baseball cards (and the cards of the ’40s, ’50s, ’60s and ’70s — the classics) actually increased in “value.” See, there’s that word. Back when I began to collect baseball cards (and I date myself here, but what the hell) I had no sense of their “value.” I bought them because they were the sole means that I had of learning a players stats — his ERA or batting average and reading the little cartoons on the back that weren’t so much funny as dumb. I stacked ‘em up, kept them in a shoebox, looked at them, smelled them. They had value outside of the nickel I paid for them.

Then baseball card price guides came along. I was well out of baseball cards then, too busy making a living to pay attention, but the appearance of these guides puzzled me and I would stand at the supermarket magazine counter and page through them, noting the ups and downs of card values. It made no sense to me and it still doesn’t. Card grading, it still seems to me, is subjective and dependent on what a dealer views as being off center or faded or . . . whatever. Yeah, okay: a tattered and water-marked 1953 Satchell Paige is not worth as much as a mint condition Satchell Paige, but some of the differences between a grade “9″ and “10″ seems arbitrary and is not so much art as fraud; a way to create a specialty out of an opinion. All of this has generated a lot of controversy, and a mini-industry of its own, which can be found on a number of baseball blogs – of which there are plenty — and which we have linked to here at CFG. (You’ll find the links over there on the right — under the category “What Your Mother Threw Away.”)

It comes down to this: I recently bought a 1953 Topps Eddie Mathews card; it’s in pretty good but not great shape — and as pretty a card as you’ll find anywhere, with a picture of Eddie as a young third baseman. I sit at my desk, when I’m working and I look at it. I’m in the habit of collecting Eddie Mathews cards, not because I’m a Boston Braves or Milwaukee Braves or Atlanta Braves fan (I’m decidely not), but because I’m an Eddie Mathews fan. I saw him play about thirty times, maybe more, and I always rooted against the teams he played for: but always for him. He’s one of the best players I ever saw play the game. He could hit and field and he seemed to play his best when I was in the stands. So I started collecting his cards. And here’s the thing. I’m not collecting his cards in order to sell them, I’m collecting them in order to have them.

My wife and I attended our first game together at the new Nats Park — a great but cold time. Here we are, getting ready to head to the game:

It was a day of runs. In Chicago, the Cubs led by half-a-dozen before the defense imploded. The game went into extra innings before the sluggies won, almost by accident. Before it was over the Buccos plated eight, but it wasn’t enough. At least Ted didn’t throw his glove. The scoring outbreak reached league-wide proportions. In Arizona, the Assholes scored 9, while the White Sox (surprising out of the gate), scored 7. The Tigers continued their head-scratching swoon, a monumental collapse that will undoubtedly land Leyland in intensive care. They are now 0-7 and sinking like a stone. What did I say about Dontrelle? Huh? Huh? Huh?

But enough of the complaints. Despite the five game losing streak, it is good to see Mastings Lilledge hitting the ball, and I have to believe the “Learners” will straighten out the parking situation. Somehow. Now, then, on to the real focus of this entry — one of my favorite Nats’ coaches — Pat Corrales.

Pat wandered over near the first base line before the game

with Paul Lo Duca, coaching him on his throws to second. Corrales was a no-hit, great-gun catcher back when Johnny Bench defined the position. Corrales’ knees are gone, which was apparent during the pre-game intros when he came onto the field for opening day. In any event, Corrales is near-and-dear to my heart: I caught a foul ball he hit back in 1965 in Milwaukee County Stadium when he played for Philly. It was a cold day then too, and Corrales was subbing for Clay Dalrymple. My memory must be going, because I remembered him playing for Houston, but he never did — it was the Phillies and Cincinnati and Padres, and then a semi-distinguished managing career. I yelled at him from the first base line.

“Hey Pat.”

“Yeah.

“Hey Pat, I caught a ball you hit in Milwaukee County Stadium back in ’65 …”

He turned to me and smiled: “Must be worth about 25 cents.”

“No, no way.”

“You still got it?”

I shook my head: “I lost it. I was just a kid. I think I used it for a game.”

He nodded and turned back to Lo Duca and then turned back to me.

“Guess who I saw the other day?” he asked.

“Who?

Dick Allen.”“No kidding, how’s he doing?”

“He’s great.”

“He was a great, great hitter,” I said.

“He sure was.”

“Everytime he came up to the plate against the Cubs he hit it out,” I said.

“Yeah, he could hit.”

Dick Allen had to be one of the best pure hitters in the history of the game. Back in the mid-1970s, when he was at the end of his career, I would drive up to Philly to see him play. This was in ’74 and ’75 and he would still hit these towering home runs. I remember in one game (must have been in ’74), in the bottom of the ninth, Dave LaRoche (a Cubs reliever) set him up with one that ended up in the top row of the old Vet. Buckner, the Cubs first baseman, just couldn’t believe it: I am certain now, from the look that Buckner (God I loved Buckner — who had an overdue good day recently) gave to LaRoche, that Billy was convinced that LaRoche grooved one. Don’t tell me it doesn’t happen.

A similar thing, well — not similar, but you know — happened to me in Milwaukee in the mid 1960s, when I took a bus (I was all of 15 or so) to Milwaukee County Stadium for the sole purpose of seeing Eddie Mathews play. I just loved to watch him play, and this was in the days of daytime double-headers. So Mathews comes up in the first inning and gets a called strike on the first ball he sees and turned to the ump and tells him (and I could hear it): “are you out of your f —ing mind?” And bang, he’s out of the game. And I thought: “what the hell am I doing here? I came all this way on that damned bus and Eddie wanted the day off.”

So, anyway, back to Pat Corrales, who has to be one of the most noble characters in the game. I can just hear him in the dugout. Let’s say, one out and man on third and the pitcher up and the bottom of the eighth. And Manny turns to Corrales and says: “Squeeze him home?” And Corrales shakes his head, thinking, and says: “Well, I remember once back in ….”

I’d love to hear that.