Archive for February, 2009:

June 5th, 1999, Dodgers vs. Angels

When you hear the phrase “disproportionate response,” you tend to think someone is talking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, or the escalation of World War II. But a surprising amount of disproportionate responses can be brought to your attention while watching baseball. Some of these things are entertaining, some are distrubing, and some are just downright confusing.

You’re left asking yourself, “Why, exactly, did that just happen?”

For example, during a Yankees-Mariners game a few years back, Ichiro was caught in between first and second base. As Ichiro ran toward second, Derek Jeter, ball in hand, ran toward Ichiro and was just a few feet away from tagging him. Ichiro, knowing he was dead in the water, veered sharply left and ran off the field. Ichiro was immediately called out for leaving the basepath, and Jeter was left holding the ball with a weird smile on his face. Sure, Jeter is a somewhat controversial figure, and many fans (and presumably some players) don’t like the sanctimonious treatment he receives, but is he really so detestable as to drive Ichiro straight into the dugout, simply by approaching him?

When asked to comment after the game, Ichiro brushed it off as, “I don’t like to make physical contact when it can easily be avoided.” But considering the cultural differences brought to light by Chan Ho Park in June of 1999, should we have really been surprised that Ichiro didn’t want to be tagged out?

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Earlier in the game, Park had thrown near the head of Angels’ 2B Randy Velarde TWICE. As George W. Bush famously said, “Fool me once, shame on….shame on you. Fool me – can’t get fooled again.” Or, in terms more easily understood by baseball fans (and the English-speaking world), “Once is a mistake, twice is a message.”

Velarde didn’t retaliate, even though I’m sure he got the message, and the brushbacks went (relatively) unnoticed by those watching the game. Maybe Park just temporarily lost his control. It happens to the best of us.

But when Park came to the plate in the 5th inning, a sacrifice bunt, NOT an errant pitch, would become the beginning of one of the most memorable fights in baseball history. Angels pitcher Tim Belcher fielded the ball cleanly, and tagged Park half-way up the baseline. Park apparently felt the tag was “too hard,” and after a brief exchange of words, Park threw a forearm in the general direction of Belcher’s head before unleashing a flying dropkick to Belcher’s midsection. Belcher essentially caught Park in midair and slammed him to the ground.

The benches and bullpens cleared, but no further violence occurred. Park was ejected, and Belcher was allowed to stay in the game.

Was Park really THAT offended by the tag? After all, he DID throw at Velarde’s head twice, and Belcher chose not to throw at Park. But, then agan, Belcher knew Park was going to give himself up as an easy out; Belcher would have been crazy to hit him, so maybe a hard tag was his only chance at extracting revenge.

Sure, there was probably a little “extra” on the tag, but certainly not enough to warrant being dropkicked, right?

This begs the question: Is a dropkick ever really warranted?

Baseball fights tend to have several unwritten rules. Chief among them is: “No bats, no helmets, no kicking. We settle this with fastballs and/or fists.”

But maybe that’s only American baseball. Maybe in Ichiro’s native Japan, it’s acceptable for players to run off the field in avoidance of a tag; as if tagging a player directly is some kind of cultural faux pas. Maybe in Park’s native South Korea, a dropkick is a perfectly reasonable way to react to a tag.

When viewed in this light, it’s very possible that Ichiro avoided the tag to avoid an international incident. The Pride of Japanese Baseball dropkicking The Pride of American Baseball. I can see the headlines.

Maybe Park was defending his honor back home. You don’t want to head back to South Korea with everyone knowing you were tagged directly.

Shameful.

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Regardless of the possible (however unlikely) cultural differences that caused this conflict, Park clearly overreacted here, and his dropkick ultimately landed him on the All-Time List Of Disproportionate Responses.

Even if it was pretty awesome to watch.

And it was pretty awesome. Just look at that picture.

Normally, if I told you Elliott Johnson barrelled over Francisco Cervelli at home plate, you’d assume I was talking about my nephew’s Little League game, not a Major League scrimmage.

When Shelley Duncan, better known as “Sloth” from The Goonies, decided to go spikes up on Akinori Iwamura in retaliation, he was trying to send a message.

“The Yankees, of whom I consider myself a valuable member, will not ‘play down’ to the opposition. We play hard, every day, regardless of the opponent or situation, and we will not tolerate the disrespect you have shown our teammate.”

A noble gesture, by a young player who realisitcally had only an outside chance of making the team.

The Rays’ response to that message? Echoing Paterson Catholic’s own Tim Thomas, and the incredible album title by Hoboken’s own Yo La Tengo, “I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass.”

The Rays were led by Jonny Gomes in this particular fight, who sprinted in from right field, fist cocked, just moments after the collision took place at second base. Duncan, the son of immensly respected pitching coach Dave Duncan, was undoubtably aware of how high his spikes were, and took a serious beating for it.

The Devil Rays had been the laughing stock of baseball for, well, their entire existence. The ballpark, the uniforms, the front office, the players themselves. All were regarded as pathetic, and rightfully so. They were a poor excuse for a Major League franchise, and no one on the team (other than new acquisitions Cliff Floyd and Troy Percival) knew any better. They had always been the AL doormat, and most expected them to continue on in that fashion for at least a few more years.

But something different was going on in Tampa this year. A lot (probably too much) was made of the franchise dropping the word “Devil” from its name, but at this moment, it seemed to be justified. Jonny Gomes clearly had the Power Of Christ in his fists. He was ready to hurt somebody.

This act, as much as anything that any Rays player could do on the field that year, defined the new franchise. No longer were they content to sit back and take whatever beating the bullies from the North East wished to inflict upon them. They were going to fight until the end, even if they were the ones who technically “started it.”

The fight itself was fairly uneventful. I think maybe Melky Cabrera, Duncan and Gomes got suspended for a few games, and that was essentially it. No limbs were lost, no tears were shed. But the new Rays shed the reputation that had haunted them since their inception, and shouted a message to anyone who was smart enough to listen.

Of course, what happened from April through the ALCS was the important part. New attitude or no, you have to outplay your opponent on the field. Unless you’re the Philadelphia Phillies, the Tampa Bay Rays outplayed you last year.

It’s tough to say if the fight helped bring about a new attitude, or if the Rays’ already possessed a fighting spirit that spilled over onto the field. Regardless, this much is clear: When you claim that your franchise is headed in a new direction, sooner or later you have to put your money where you mouth is, or put your fist where someone else’s mouth is. The Rays did both of those things last year.

Having already proven that they were not afraid of you, they focused exclusively on beating your ass.

Straight Melee.

Let’s get something out of the way.  Nolan Ryan is a badass.

Moving on:  When someone mentions the words “Baseball Fight” to anyone that claims that they know baseball, this absolutely classic brawl will almost definitely come to mind.  If I’m having a bad day, I think of this fight and smile.

I know some of you coming to the site just want to see the fight, and that is fine by me.  Just know, that in order to get the full effect of the AWESOMENESS of Nolan Ryan, you’ll want to read on afterwards.  Without further adieu, your video:

You just watched a video of 46 year old man absolutely pummeling someone 20 whole years younger. Nolan Ryan was heading towards the end of his career, but he was still a badass. At the beginning of that season Ryan had announced his retirement effective at season’s end. This was a game on August 4th, 1993, only 2 months before Ryan would hang up the cleats for good.

Ventura’s charging of the mound cost him an ejection and an unheard of level of embarrassment. Take another look at that video, and marvel at how furious he is as he’s charging the mound. Watching him charge is really quite funny when you know the ultimate outcome of the fight. What a douche.

Ryan stated afterward that he had used the same maneuver on Ventura that he makes use of on his ranch in Texas, when branding steer. What a badass.

And while Ventura and White Sox manager Gene Lamont were ejected from the game, Ryan was allowed to continue on the mound. The decision to allow him to stay in the game was based on the fact that Ryan did not move off the mound, and simply allowed Ventura to charge, and then defend himself. Personally, I think the umps did not want to incur any of that badass wrath.

This fateful altercation ultimately led to one of the most badass baseball images ever taken.

Need more badass-itude? Nolan Ryan gets hit in the lip by a Bo Jackson line drive, and stays in to pitch.