Trader Jack Rides Again

It has been a tough June for the Florida Marlins. At the end of May, things were looking good in for them. They were 31-22, just behind the Phillies in the National League East and battling for the NL Wild Card. When the calendar turned to June, however, everything went to hell. They opened the month with eight straight losses. After squeaking past Arizona 6-4 on June 10th, The Marlins proceeded to lose 9 straight games. Then, on Sunday morning, they got the biggest shock of all. Their manager, Edwin Rodriguez, up and quit on them.

Rumor has it that he was going to get fired anyway (owner Jeffrey Loria is known for having a quick hook), but Rodriguez felt like he was not reaching his team. Players weren't hustling, they weren't putting in the extra work off the field, and Edwin simply had enough of it all. This fiasco left the Marlins without a manager for Sunday's game against the Tampa Bay Rays. They ended up having Bench Coach Brandon Hyde manage Sunday's game (another loss, the team's 10th in a row), and set their sites to hiring an interim replacement this week.

In the end, the Marlins chose to bring back a familiar (and very popular) face: "Trader Jack" McKeon. Yes, that Jack McKeon... Not one of his grandsons or something. The Marlins have hired 80 year old Jack McKeon to manage their major league baseball team. Any time you hire someone who was alive (and old enough to remember it) during the Great Depression, it's going to raise some eyebrows. I, for one, think it's a great move for the Marlins. McKeon is beloved by Marlins fans (and really, all over baseball) because he led them to a World Series Championship in 2003. He's an old school disciplinarian type manager and, it seems to me, that this is what the reeling franchise needs to get back on track.

John Aloysius McKeon was born On November 23, 1930 (1930!) in South Amboy, New Jersey. You know you're old if you were alive when the name Aloysius was still being handed out. Jack spent his entire playing career in the minor leagues (in the 1940s), and quickly got into coaching once it became apparent that he was not going to make it as a catcher. He finally made it to the big leagues as a manager with the 1973 Kansas City Royals and managed the Oakland A's in 1977 and 1978. He soon became the General Manager of the San Diego Padres (where he eventually managed in the late 80s) and started earning the nickname "Trader Jack" because of the complicated nature of the many trades he made. One trade even included three players to be named later!

McKeon next managed the reds from 1997-2000 before taking over for the Florida Marlins in 2003. The Marlins immediately bought into McKeon's plan and went on to win the NL Wild Card, which they carried to a World Series victory against the New York Yankees. McKeon retired 2 years later, at age 74, as the third oldest manager in league history. Now, he comes back to the Marlins six years later as the second oldest manager in league history. The Great Connie Mack managed for 53 years, calling it quits in 1950 at the age of 87. Absurd.

Anyway, here at Jobu's Rum, we like to have a little fun at other people's expenses. We do it in good fun. And we're gonna do it with Jack. In response to this momentous hiring, our crack research team has put together the following list of things that have happened in McKeon's lifetime.

• There have been 14 Presidents of the United States
• The United States have gained two more states (Hawaii and Alaska)
• Well over 100 wars have taken place around the globe, including American conflicts like World War I, The Korean War, The Vietnam War, the Gulf War, and Operation Iraqi Freedom.
• There have been 18 Summer Olympics and 19 Winter Olympics
• There have been 19 World Cups (two of them won by Uruguay)
• People went from having to listen to the Olympics and World Cups on the radio, to watching in black and white, to watching in color, to watching in HD, to possibly watching the next one in 3D! We went from No-D to 3D!
• Other fun things were invented too: scotch tape, Polaroid cameras, FM radio, Jet engines, canned beer, the atomic bomb, the microwave oven, the Frisbee, Velcro, credit cards, super glue, diet soda, the birth control pill (one of the all-time greatest inventions), hovercrafts, liquid paper, the hula hoop, barbie, G.I. Joe, the microchip, AstroTurf, the ATM, soft contact lenses, home video game consoles, and personal computers like the one I blog on!

OK I think you guys get it. Jack's an old man. I'll stop beating this dead horse. I'll also resist making any jokes about Jack related to a dead horse (I'm classy). I really do wish the Marlins well. Hopefully McKeon can right the ship and get the Marlins back to competing. How can you not root for this guy? It's as if your grandfather got hired to manage a major league team. Don't you want to root for Grandpa? I really hope this season is a big success for Jack and the Marlins, and I'm not just blowing smoke (see what I did there?)

No Son of Mine: Disappointing MLB Offspring

On June 6th, Major League Baseball held its annual amateur draft. This event is the culmination of months of pouring over scouting reports, watching film and even traveling to random Podunk high schools and colleges to watch prospective draft choices throw and hit baseballs. Then Bud Selig’s decrepit, rotting corpse announces every team’s draft choice live on the MLB Network.

Like just about every other one, 2011′s draft contained a lot of the offspring of former major leaguers. Among them were the sons of Steve Garvey, Charlie O’Brien (2 of them!), Pudge Rodriguez and super agent (and #1 fan of Satan) Scott Boras, to name a few. Even Wayne Gretzky’s son was drafted! The Great One’s son plays baseball? Talk about daddy issues! Anyway, the Yankees, my favorite team, drafted the kid pictured above. He is 17 year old Dante Bichette Jr., the son of… you guessed it… Dante Bichette, a former major leaguer known mostly for for his time on the Rockies, where he was a four time all-star and helped the 1995 Rockies win the National League Wild Card.

Baseball fans have known about Bichette, Jr. since his team played in the 2005 Little League World Series (Sr. was in attendance, of course). What kind of player will Jr. be? With his genes, is it safe to say the Yankees will have an all-star on their hands in a few years? I’m sure the Yankees hope they do, considering they took him with their first pick (51st overall). As we’ll find out in this post, however, major league pedigree doesn’t necessarily guarantee major league success. Our crack research team (me), has put together a list of the five most disappointing 2nd generation major leaguers of our era. The fathers had HOF (or near HOF) talent, but the sons simply came up short of expectations.

5. Eduardo Pérez

Big Indian Machine?

It was a little hard to put Eddie on this list, because he actually had a lengthy Major League career. The problem is, that his career wasn’t very impressive. Eduardo’s dad was the one and only Hall of Famer Tony Pérez, who made his bones as a middle of the order bat for the Big Red Machine in the 1970s. Those legendary Cincinnati Reds teams won four National League Pennants and two World Series. Tony consistently hit around .300 and even knocked 40 home runs one of those seasons. His 2,732 hits, 379 HR and 7 all-star appearances made him a legend in Cincinnati, and there was reason to believe his son could have a similar career.

Eduardo was originally a first round draft pick (17th overall) for the then California Angels and rose pretty quickly through their system. At age 23 (1993), he made his Angels debut and did well in a limited role. The following season he again started in the minors, but struggled mightily when he was called up. By 1996, he was traded to the Reds. His father’s old team. I guess the Reds were hoping he would be inspired by his father’s legacy and get his career back on track. They gave him a chance to do that in 1997 and he responded somewhat, hitting .253 with 16 HR. After that, the wheels fell off for Eddie and he was released in 1998, never really coming close to fulfilling his genetic potential. Eddie bounced around the big leagues for another 8 seasons, mostly as a right-handed pinch hitter or platoon player, before calling it quits. He finished as a .247 hitter with 79 career homers. Pretty terrible when compared to his HOF papa.

4. Tony Gwynn, Jr.

Just like his daddy?

Tony Gwynn, Jr. is the son of another Hall of Famer, Tony Gwynn, Sr (duh, hello). Senior was probably the best hitter of the 80s and 90s. His career .338 batting average is good for 18th all-time, he had 3,141 carer hits and he almost hit .400 in the strike-shortened 1994 season (.394). In San Diego, he was known simply as “Mr. Padre,” after spending his entire brilliant career playing for his home town team. Simply put, Tony Gwynn is a San Diego legend.

Like his uncle Chris (major leaguer in the 80s and 90s), Tony Gwynn, Jr. didn’t quite swim in the talented end of the gene pool. Junior was originally drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers in the 2nd round of the 2003 draft, and was in the majors by age 23. After a few uninspired seasons, he was traded to (you guessed it) the San Diego Padres. Maybe it was the pressure of almost literally having to fill his father’s shoes, or maybe Gwynn, Jr. just was never that good, but he was terrible for the padres. He spent two uninspiring seasons on the Padres and was released after the 2010 season. He is currently playing terribly for the LA Dodgers. His career numbers, so far, sit at a .241 batting average, .628 OPS (pretty sure Tony Gwynn’s mother could put that number up) and five home runs in six seasons. This year, he’s hitting .220. It won’t be long before he joins his dad on the couch at home, but with less trophies to look at.

3. Tim Raines, Jr.

When It Raines...

In the 1980s, Tim “Rock” Raines stole bases like he snorted cocaine: early and often. Despite rumors that he slid head first on stolen bases because he didn’t want to break the vials of cocaine he carried in his back pocket, Raines was an absolute beast on the diamond. In the 80s, Raines was a 7 time all-star, hit .304 and stole 578 bases. 578! After that, his drug habit and some injuries caught up with him, and he became more of a part time player. He was still very good though, helping the Yankees to two World Series Championships in the late 1990s.

Maybe Tim Raines, Jr. should have also done a little coke. “Little Rock” was drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in the 6th round of the 1998 draft. A few years later, in 2001, he was called up to make his major league debut. With the call-up, the Raines family became the second ever father and son team to play together in the same game for the same major league team (Tim Sr. had signed with the Orioles that year specifically to get the chance to play with his son). Unfortunately for the younger Raines, that was pretty much the highlight of his career. He last tasted Major League stew in 2004, and retired last season. His final numbers were pretty terrible: .213, 0HR, 7 RBI and a .544 OPS in 75 games, all for the Orioles. On the bright side, this frees him up to do a ton of cocaine with his dad. The father and son team lives on!

2. Tony Peña, Jr

Just Adorable...

We’re getting down to the end of this countdown, which is unfortunate for you readers. Tony Peña is not just the current bench coach for the New York Yankees. He also spent 18 seasons as a big league catcher for the Pirates, Cardinals, Red Sox, Indians, White Sox and Astros. Although he was eventually known most for his defense, Tony was one of the better hitting catchers in the 1980s. He ended his career with 1,687 hits, four Gold Glove Awards and five all-star selections. Peña was also known for sometimes crouching with one leg fully extended to the side, and also for his cannon arm.

Tony Peña Jr., however, is not known for any of these things. He was signed as an international free agent in 1999 by the Atlanta Braves, but was eventually traded to the Kansas City Royals (where his father had previously managed) in 2007. In 2008 he was given the starting job and did pretty well, hitting .270. His promise as a “glove first” shortstop fell a little short though, as he made 23 errors. Despite that, Young Tony entered 2008 as the starting shortstop for the Royals. To say that he fell flat on his face would be an understatement. Before eventually losing his job and getting sent to the minors, Tony Jr. hit .169 in 95 games. He managed only 5 extra-base hits too. More of the same (although in less playing time) followed in 2009, and the Royals gave up on Tony. Unlike the other members of this list, Peña still has a chance to make something of himself… as a pitcher. What? That’s right, Tony is currently pitching for the AAA Pawtucket Red Sox, in a final attempt to resurrect his major league career. He’s actually doing pretty well, too! Maybe we’ll see him back one day and he can earn his way off this list. For now, he’s a giant bust.

1. Pete Rose, Jr.

Pete and Pete

And now… the biggest 2nd generation bust of the last 30 years…. Pete Rose, Jr. But first, let’s find out a little more about his daddy, Pete Rose. What else can you say about “Charlie Hustle” (other than the fact that his name isn’t Charlie, or even Charles)? He is arguably the best hitter of all time. In his 24 seasons for the Reds, Phillies and Expos, Rose did it all. He is the all-time hits leader with 4,256. He won 3 batting titles, was a 17 time all-star, won the 1963 rookie of the year, and even the 1973 National League MVP Award. The only reason Rose isn’t in the hall of fame is because he bet on baseball games, and because Commissioner A. Bartlet Giamatti (father of actor Paul) passed away in 1989. Rumor has it Giammati was set re-instate Rose, but died only a few months before he could do it. Alas, Pete is now just the best player ever to be excluded from the HOF.

That brings us to Peter Edward Rose, Jr. In this case, the apple not only fell far from the tree. It sat on the ground for months, rotted, and was eaten by a raccoon, who then got sick from it and died. Junior was drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in the 12th round of the 1988 draft, and was eventually traded twice, and then released twice before landing on his father’s old team in 1996. Again, a case of a team hoping that paternal legend would inspire the son to raise his level of play. A funny thing happened on the way to that though. Rose Jr. went from a slappy “punch and judy” type hitter to a legitimate power hitter. Rose was 27 at the time, the age when most players begin to enter their prime, so this wouldn’t normally raise too many eyebrows. The fact that it was 1997, the heart of the steroids era in Major League Baseball, makes you go hmm… Anyway this surge of power (natural or anabolically enhanced) finally earned Jr. his ticket to the bigs. Did he burst onto the scene and shine brightly in Cincy? Negative, Ghost Rider. Eleven games and two singles later, Pete Rose, Jr.’s big league career ended.

In 2006, Rose was convicted of distribution of the “date-rape” drug GBL. Now, don’t jump to conclusions… When injected, GBL is a known performance enhancer and sedative (although, I guess he could have been a rapist too). Rose’s conviction came from events that happened in the late 1990s. Say, isn’t that when he suddenly became a power– oh…right. So, even though Rose and Rose, Jr. didn’t have the same type of major league career, at least they both served time in Federal Prison! Maybe the apple fell a little closer to the tree than we thought!

What We Learned:

What exactly did we learn here? We learned that for every Bobby and Barry Bonds, there’s probably a couple of Pete and Pete Roses. Like anywhere else in life, just because the father is good at it, doesn’t mean the son will be. My dad, for example, has rebuilt every room in my house. I, on the other hand, write about sports on the internet. You can’t always bank on genetics when it comes to making a great professional anything, especially an athlete. Furthermore, playing for the team your father starred for does not help struggling 2nd generation major leaguers to prosper. Playing for your dad’s former team can often lead to increased pressure from fans, front office and even from within the athlete himself. It’s tough to fill Hall of Fame cleats. Players are better off finding their own shoes in their own time-frame. So, what does this mean for Dante Bichette, Jr.? I’m not sure, but at least he didn’t get drafted by the Rockies.

Bichette image courtesy of: http://www.myyesnetwork.com
Perez image courtesy of: http://bleacherreport.com
Gwynn image courtesy of: http://static.sdnn.com
Raines image courtesy of: http://baseballmexico.blogspot.com
Peña image courtesy of: http://mlb.mlb.com

The Booing of the Bettman

Here are Hockeygirl's thoughts on the Stanley Cup finals, which concluded last night!

So. That's it. Season's over. And the ending was...uneventful? I feel somehow let down. As much as I wanted Vancouver to lose, I didn't expect them to go out like that. That was just sad on so many levels. It wasn't really the game seven that you hope to see. It's going to be a long, painful off-season for Vancouver. I think Mama Sedin should punish her boys and send them each to their rooms without supper. That is, if she can tell which one is which.

[More...] Also, as predicted, the riots and looting started before the final buzzer even sounded. I've heard Vancouver is a beautiful city, it's a shame people would want to burn it down. Morons.

What did make me happy about last night? Cam Neely has a Cup. Yes, it was won as part of the Bruin's management team, and no, this brief moment of joy should not be taken as an endorsement of anything Boston-related, but Cam Neely has finally won a Stanley Cup. And for that, the hockey gods deserve a great, big, hearty "thank you." Excuse me while I get emotional for a moment..

Ok. All better. So. The game itself was a bit disappointing, but what happened next was as satisfying as ever. Forget the superstitions, forget the playoff beards, forget the handshake (but dear god, how I love the handshake). I'm talking about one of the greatest of all NHL traditions. I'm talking about the Booing of the Bettman. For those who are unaware, NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman sucks. There's really just no other way to put it. He really, truly, unbelievably sucks. Take every bad commissioner, in every other sport, combine all their worst qualities, multiply that by 100x and make him a puppy-kicker to boot, and you still won't come close to the level of awful that is Gary Bettman. However, we can't get rid of him. No matter how hard we try. After almost twenty years, two lockouts, too many "failed" teams and moved franchises to count, we can NOT get rid of him. It's unbelievably frustrating....

So we boo. We boo loudly, we boo often, we boo long. Seriously. Did you watch last night? That went on almost as long as the game itself. It's become completely Pavlovian, too: See Gary, Boo Gary. And it doesn't have to be in the big moments, like the Finals. Every time there's a camera on him, the booing begins. I'll bet you that he gets booed at the grocery store and the bank. Even his family boos him, I'm sure of it. True story: During the '94 lockout, I lived in the town next door to Bettman's. I know several people who, without hockey to occupy their narrow-minded, slightly addled, small-town Jersey minds, spent hours driving past his house, just... booing. I'm not saying I took part it such a silly exercise...but I understand.

We never even listen to what he actually says, not that we could even hear it over the boos and all. Who knows, maybe he's actually apologizing?

"I'm sorry that I have devoted the last 20 years to destroying this sport."

"What's, that Gary? I can't hear you, I'm too busy booing."

"No really, you're the best fans in all of sports."

"Fi-re Bett-man. Clap clap clapclapclap."

"And to prove it, I'm going to give each of you season tickets...or a million dollars, whichever costs less."

"What's booing in French? Le Boo? Le Boo, Bettman. Le Boo!!"

So, if the season has it to end, as least it ends with the the Booing of the Bettman. It's the one thing that unites every single hockey fan. Every one of us. Well, that and the endless joy we get when we think about Rick DiPietro's contract. That one never gets old, either.

Oh, one last thing. Whoever came up with the idea of pouring a water bottle full of melted ice from TD garden onto the Vancouver rink? Bravo. Bravo! That, my friend, was pure brilliance.

T-109 days until the puck drops again!

image courtesy of: http://dreamlandapparel.com

Everybody Hates Vancouver

Hey guys, this post comes to us courtesy of our new Hockey correspondant, Hockeygirl:

It’s the Stanley Cup Finals, and there’s something strange going on around the NHL. There is a growing sense of unease as we approach tonight’s Game Seven. It’s something nobody’s quite willing to say or admit to, because, in truth, it makes very little sense. But it’s there, just below the surface.

Everybody hates the Vancouver Canucks. No, seriously, they do. It’s kind of weird. I've talked to a number of people about this, and even if many of them started the series either neutral or slightly pro-Vancouver, they've quickly developed a healthy dose hatred real fast.

They hate the Canucks for the obvious reasons: the diving, the whining, the diving, the cheap shots and ugly play, the diving, the obvious attempts at manipulating the officials and the diving. Oh, did I mention that people really, really dislike the diving? Lots of hockey players dive... (cough, cough, Sidney Crosby)...but the Canucks have turned it into an art form. If you breathed on Henrik Sedin from your desk on the East Coast, he would immediately fall to the ice in Rogers Arena, and Daniel Sedin would quickly follow...just because. It’s shameful.

But besides that, what is it that really gets under people's skin? Here are a few possibilities:

The Sedin twins

Nobody likes the Sedin twins. Ok, I'll admit to a personal bias on this one. These guys, Creepy #1 and Creepy #2 if you will, completely freak people out. There's something unnerving about identical twins on the same line. Even one of their own teammates agreed, comparing their silent on-ice communication to a scary school of dolphins. But all that should matter is that these guys are really talented, right? They’ve won the regular season scoring title the past two years (first Henrik, then Daniel...or first Daniel, then Henrik? Who knows). So they can score pretty much at will...oh, wait. No, they can’t. Not in this series. The two best scorers in the game have a combined 5 points. The least they could have done was grow some decent playoff beards, but no, they can’t even manage that!

Don't Believe the Hype

The Sedins are not alone in their disappearing act. All season long we heard about how special these Canucks were. How finally, after all the disappointment, this was the year. Nobody could beat them. Finals against Boston? This wasn’t even going to be close. But a funny thing happened on the way to TD Garden. Vancouver kind of imploded. Yes, they’ve won 3 games and are on the verge of winning it all, but they’re being outscored 19-8. They’ve won 1-0, 3-2 and 1-0 in games Boston could have easily had. So, but for one (huge) mistake by Tim Thomas in Game 1, this could have been a Boston rout. And yet...and yet, Vancouver is this close to winning it all.

The Curious (mental) Case of Roberto Luongo

Enough of the Roberto Luongo mental merry-go-round. The knock on “Lou” has always been, “regular season champ, playoff chump.” Yet this time was supposed to be different, winning the Olympic gold medal had changed all that. Nope. Listen, Roberto Luongo did not win that gold medal (ugh, Sidney Crosby). Luongo was not even the best goalie in that tournament (sorry, Ryan Miller). All Luongo has proven is that he's as inscrutable and confounding as ever. And then, in an attempt to shift the focus from his own performance, he tried to throw the opposing goalie under the bus. Um... When you’ve given up 18 goals in the Stanley Cup Finals, perhaps you shouldn’t call the other guy out on one bad play. Just a thought. But, if you do feel so compelled, you really shouldn't follow that up by getting pulled from the next game in under 5 minutes. Thank god Canada has universal health care, because this guy's psychiatry bills must be terrifying.

Canuck Nation

Then there are the Vancouver fans. For a franchise without a single Cup to its credit, with a team making its first Finals appearance in 17 years, they’re an unbelievably smug and arrogant lot. This is their right, their due and they're not shy about it. I remember the riots after they lost to the Rangers in 1994, and I shudder to think what might happen this time around. They might even steal a page from Lakers fans and riot even if they win! This sense of entitlement is not something we're used to from our polite Canadian friends, it’s so unseemly…

Even Canada Hates Them

We're not alone either, it would seem. Their own country hates them, too. Not even Canada, the cradle of the Cup, wants to claim these guys. It’s been 18 years since a Canadian team has hoisted Lord Stanley’s trophy, but our neighbors to the north just can’t bite the bullet and root for Vancouver. Maybe it’s because they consider Vancouver to be too American, and therefore not Canadian enough. Maybe they’re still in a post-Olympic gold medal Molson and poutine haze. Maybe they just hate the people on this team and its fans that much. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make a Habs fan root for the Bruins, and that, my friends, is as clear a sign of the apocalypse as you’re going to get.

They Made Me Do It

Which brings me to my final, and perhaps most important point. Everybody hates Vancouver because they’re forcing us to root for the Boston Bruins. Nobody wants to root for Boston. In fact, it physically pains me to even type anything positive about them. At the start of this series, most fans, if given the choice, would have rooted for Vancouver…just to spite Boston. However, the way the Canucks have played these finals has given us little choice. So, we root for Chara and Marchand and even Greg Campbell, and we try not to feel too dirty about it.

It would be like being forced to root for the Flyers...Ok, that would never happen, but if it did, I would hate the team that brought me to that. So, to sum up. There are plenty of reasons to hate Vancouver, and I'm sure they'll give us a few more tonight. Maybe they'll accidentally drop the Cup? Or reveal that the Sedins are really, truly the same person cloned. Or maybe they can kick Gary Bettman for no apparent reason. Actually, that last part would be ok. If they did that, I might suddenly realize I love them after all.

…p.s., the sad thing is, I think Vancouver will win tonight. And I’m going to cry a little inside as I watch Creepy #1 pass the Cup to Creepy #2….or Creepy #2 pass it to…you get the picture.

image courtesy of: http://www.nhlsnipers.com

His Royal Highness, Lebron James

So I was planning on using this image in a post about Lebron and the Heat whether they won or lost. If they had won, I would have named the post "Why Lebron Winning is the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to the NBA." Thankfully, I didn't have to write that post. Instead, I think this image, taken earlier this year, is perfect for summing up Lebron's state of mind after his team's loss in the NBA finals. In Lebron's mind, he's still the greatest. Allow me to explain.

Last night, after losing game six of the NBA finals to Dirk Nowtizky, Jason Terry and the Mavericks (I kind of want to copyright "Jason and the Mavericks"), Lebron walked off the court without any emotion. The lack of reaction led me to comment with "Welp, time to go home to my millions."

It's not fair to judge a player on the things he does in the seconds and minutes following a devastating loss. Some guys, like Chris Bosh, break into tears. Others get angry. Some guys are in such dismay that they simply don't know how to react, or they just have nothing to say. Some guys don't give a crap. I hesitated to peg Lebron into the last of these options until his post-game press conference, and his post-game tweeting.

When asked about the those that were rooting against him, Lebron said: "All the people that were rooting on me to fail, at the end of the day, they have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life that they had before they woke up today. They have the same personal problems they had today. I'm going to continue to live the way I want to live and continue to do the things that I want to do with me and my family and be happy with that. They can get a few days or a few months or whatever the case may be on being happy about not only myself, but the Miami Heat not accomplishing their goal. But they have to get back to the real world at some point." (Huffingtonpost.com)

Not even a loss could humble Lebron. Not even his own personal shortcomings in the last few games of the series (read: choke job) could humble the great King James. He had a chance to show some class, some humility and an inkling of being a good person, and he failed. He could have said that he wasn't really worried about what other people think of him, and that he was most disappointed in his play and the fact that his team lost the finals. He could have even added that he'd be back next year to try to prove his critics wrong. Instead, he just basically said he'll be laughing at those people's sorry lives from atop his gold plated mountain. I hate to break it to you, Lebron, but those people at the bottom of your mountain are probably a lot like your own team's fans. Basketball fans are the same everywhere, and you just demonstrated that you think you're better than everyone. This is why people hate you, and want you to lose. If you were humble about it, they'd feel sympathy for you after your loss.

Although when you think about it, how dare anyone criticize Lebron? He's the greatest of all time! The most wonderful thing since sliced bread. He is the single greatest human specimen in the history of the world, at least according to himself. He can do no wrong. This brings me to his post-game tweeting:

"The Greater Man upstairs knows when it's my time. Right now isn't the time."

This is incredibly arrogant. They guy can't even lose without divine intervention! I guess God made him play like crap the last 3 games of that series. God made him not go hard after rebounds. God checked him out in the 4th quarter. God's been doing that to Lebron for a long, long time. Why does God hate Lebron so much? He certainly doesn't hate Dwayne Wade, because Wade has a title. Whatever happened to an athlete taking responsibility for coming up short? You're supposed to thank God when you win, not blame him when you lose. When you lose, you blame yourself. Or, if you're the rest of the Miami Heat, you blame Lebron for disappearing in yet another big moment.

So will Lebron ever win? He didn't in Cleveland because he didn't have it in him back then. He was no Jordan. He'll never be Jordan. He even seemed to admit it when he changed his number from 23 to 6 out of "respect" for MJ. Furthermore, once he realized he'd never be what Jordan was, he signed on in Miami to become Wade's Pippen. In the end, he proved he couldn't even be that. Right now, he doesn't deserve to win. He's been handed everything his entire life because he could play basketball, but no one will ever hand you a Championship. You have to be a man and take it. Maybe some day Lebron will grow up and become man enough to wear that ring. If he even really cares about winning.

Until then, go God.

What is The Mendoza Line?

On Thursday, Jorge Posada of the New York Yankees went 2-4. It was said he had finally pushed his batting average over the "Mendoza Line." That's a term I've heard many times watching baseball over the last 20 years or so, but it occurred to me that some of you newer or younger fans might not know what it means. Also, it's kind of a funny story. So, what is the Mendoza Line? Sit back and relax, and I'll explain.

It all comes back to the man in the picture above. Is he a child molester? Is he Edward James Olmos? No! In fact, he is Mario Mendoza, a major league infielder from 1974-1982. Originally from Chihuahua, Chihuahua, Mexico (city, state, country for those of you who aren't geography majors), Mario was signed as a international free agent by the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1970. He eventually was traded to the Seattle Mariners, and ended his career with two seasons on the Texas Rangers. Back in the day, middle infielders were generally known more for their gloves than their bats, and Mario was no exception. In fact, Mario was most famous for his ineptitude at the plate.

Throughout his career, Mario struggled to hit even .200. He always seemed to be just below it, or just barely above it. His career averages, year by year, were .221, .180, .185, .198, .218, .198, .245, .231 and .118. I think the point is made, Mario could not hit. Lot's of players can't hit though. Most of them just don't spend nine seasons playing Major League baseball. I never saw Mario play, because he retired the year I was born, but he must have been something else on defense. Short of being able to catch and throw the ball with his anus, I don't know what could have possibly kept him in the lineup for that long (admit it, you're picturing that now).

There are two theorized explanations as to where the term really came from, but both are related to poor Mario. The first, and least famous one, involves the fact that Mario weighed 187 lbs while he played for the Pirates, and that he literally couldn't hit his own weight. He was often under that .187 batting average, and so hitting under your own weight was called the Mendoza line. Similar things were said about Mendoza by some of his Mariners teammates later in his career.

The traditional Mendoza Line sits at the .200 mark and, Oddly enough, one of the best hitters of the era is to blame for coining the term. In 1980, the great George Brett (HOF with 3,154 career hits) was trying to be the first man to hit .400 since Ted Williams in 1941 (more on Teddy Ballgame here). During an interview that season, Brett allegedly said "The first thing I look for in the papers is who is below the Mendoza line." ESPN anchor Chris Berman heard about this and began using the term on television, which made it stick.

The moral of the story is, George Brett is a bit of a jerk. You're hitting .400, the guy can't even hit .200. He's not even your teammate. Leave him alone. Now Poor Mario Mendoza is still linked to crappy hitting, and he's been out of the game for almost 30 years! He will live on in the sport for ever, which is kind of cool for him I suppose. I'm sure he wishes it was for other reasons, but hey; all PR is good PR, as they say.

Anyway, now you know what the Mendoza Line is. Feel free to drop it into conversation at parties, around the water cooler or even at family gatherings. You will look like you know what you're talking about when it comes to sports, and your family, friends and co-workers will love and respect you that much more.

image courtesy of: http://im4.ebidst.com/upload_big/9/5/5/1284944100-29187-0.jpg

No Son of Mine: Disappointing MLB Offspring

On June 6th, Major League Baseball held it's annual amateur draft. This event is the culmination of Months of pouring over scouting reports, watching film and even traveling to random Podunk high schools and colleges to watch prospective draft choices throw and hit baseballs. Then Bud Selig's decrepit, rotting corpse announces every team's draft choice live on the MLB Network.

Like just about every other one, 2011's draft contained a lot of the offspring of former major leaguers. Among them were the sons of Steve Garvey, Charlie O'Brien (2 of them!), Pudge Rodriguez and super agent (and #1 fan of Satan) Scott Boras, to name a few. Even Wayne Gretzky's son was drafted! The Great One's son plays baseball? Talk about daddy issues! Anyway, the Yankees, my favorite team, drafted the kid pictured above. He is 17 year old Dante Bichette Jr., the son of... you guessed it... Dante Bichette, a former major leaguer known mostly for for his time on the Rockies, where he was a four time all-star and helped the 1995 Rockies win the National League Wild Card.

Baseball fans have known about Bichette, Jr. since his team played in the 2005 Little League World Series (Sr. was in attendance, of course). What kind of player will Jr. be? With his genes, is it safe to say the Yankees will have an all-star on their hands in a few years? I'm sure the Yankees hope they do, considering they took him with their first pick (51st overall). As we'll find out in this post, however, major league pedigree doesn't necessarily guarantee major league success. Our crack research team (me), has put together a list of the five most disappointing 2nd generation major leaguers of our era. The fathers had HOF (or near HOF) talent, but the sons simply came up short of expectations.

5. Eduardo Pérez

It was a little hard to put Eddie on this list, because he actually had a lengthy Major League career. The problem is, that his career wasn't very impressive. Eduardo's dad was the one and only Hall of Famer Tony Pérez, who made his bones as a middle of the order bat for the Big Red Machine in the 1970s. Those legendary Cincinnati Reds teams won four National League Pennants and two World Series. Tony consistently hit around .300 and even knocked 40 home runs one of those seasons. His 2,732 hits, 379 HR and 7 all-star appearances made him a legend in Cincinnati, and there was reason to believe his son could have a similar career.

Eduardo was originally a first round draft pick (17th overall) for the then California Angels and rose pretty quickly through their system. At age 23 (1993), he made his Angels debut and did well in a limited role. The following season he again started in the minors, but struggled mightily when he was called up. By 1996, he was traded to the Reds. His father's old team. I guess the Reds were hoping he would be inspired by his father's legacy and get his career back on track. They gave him a chance to do that in 1997 and he responded somewhat, hitting .253 with 16 HR. After that, the wheels fell off for Eddie and he was released in 1998, never really coming close to fulfilling his genetic potential. Eddie bounced around the big leagues for another 8 seasons, mostly as a right-handed pinch hitter or platoon player, before calling it quits. He finished as a .247 hitter with 79 career homers. Pretty terrible when compared to his HOF papa.

4. Tony Gwynn, Jr.

Tony Gwynn, Jr. is the son of another Hall of Famer, Tony Gwynn, Sr (duh, hello). Senior was probably the best hitter of the 80s and 90s. His career .338 batting average is good for 18th all-time, he had 3,141 carer hits and he almost hit .400 in the strike-shortened 1994 season (.394). In San Diego, he was known simply as "Mr. Padre," after spending his entire brilliant career playing for his home town team. Simply put, Tony Gwynn is a San Diego legend.

Like his uncle Chris (major leaguer in the 80s and 90s), Tony Gwynn, Jr. didn't quite swim in the talented end of the gene pool. Junior was originally drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers in the 2nd round of the 2003 draft, and was in the majors by age 23. After a few uninspired seasons, he was traded to (you guessed it) the San Diego Padres. Maybe it was the pressure of almost literally having to fill his father's shoes, or maybe Gwynn, Jr. just was never that good, but he was terrible for the padres. He spent two uninspiring seasons on the Padres and was released after the 2010 season. He is currently playing terribly for the LA Dodgers. His career numbers, so far, sit at a .241 batting average, .628 OPS (pretty sure Tony Gwynn's mother could put that number up) and five home runs in six seasons. This year, he's hitting .220. It won't be long before he joins his dad on the couch at home, but with less trophies to look at.

3. Tim Raines, Jr.

In the 1980s, Tim "Rock" Raines stole bases like he snorted cocaine: early and often. Despite rumors that he slid head first on stolen bases because he didn't want to break the vials of cocaine he carried in his back pocket, Raines was an absolute beast on the diamond. In the 80s, Raines was a 7 time all-star, hit .304 and stole 578 bases. 578! After that, his drug habit and some injuries caught up with him, and he became more of a part time player. He was still very good though, helping the Yankees to two World Series Championships in the late 1990s.

Maybe Tim Raines, Jr. should have also done a little coke. "Little Rock" was drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in the 6th round of the 1998 draft. A few years later, in 2001, he was called up to make his major league debut. With the call-up, the Raines family became the second ever father and son team to play together in the same game for the same major league team (Tim Sr. had signed with the Orioles that year specifically to get the chance to play with his son). Unfortunately for the younger Raines, that was pretty much the highlight of his career. He last tasted Major League stew in 2004, and retired last season. His final numbers were pretty terrible: .213, 0HR, 7 RBI and a .544 OPS in 75 games, all for the Orioles. On the bright side, this frees him up to do a ton of cocaine with his dad. The father and son team lives on!

2. Tony Peña, Jr

We're getting down to the end of this countdown, which is unfortunate for you readers. Tony Peña is not just the current bench coach for the New York Yankees. He also spent 18 seasons as a big league catcher for the Pirates, Cardinals, Red Sox, Indians, White Sox and Astros. Although he was eventually known most for his defense, Tony was one of the better hitting catchers in the 1980s. He ended his career with 1,687 hits, four Gold Glove Awards and five all-star selections. Peña was also known for sometimes crouching with one leg fully extended to the side, and also for his cannon arm.

Tony Peña Jr., however, is not known for any of these things. He was signed as an international free agent in 1999 by the Atlanta Braves, but was eventually traded to the Kansas City Royals (where his father had previously managed) in 2007. In 2008 he was given the starting job and did pretty well, hitting .270. His promise as a "glove first" shortstop fell a little short though, as he made 23 errors. Despite that, Young Tony entered 2008 as the starting shortstop for the Royals. To say that he fell flat on his face would be an understatement. Before eventually losing his job and getting sent to the minors, Tony Jr. hit .169 in 95 games. He managed only 5 extra-base hits too. More of the same (although in less playing time) followed in 2009, and the Royals gave up on Tony. Unlike the other members of this list, Pe√±a still has a chance to make something of himself... as a pitcher. What? That's right, Tony is currently pitching for the AAA Pawtucket Red Sox, in a final attempt to resurrect his major league career. He's actually doing pretty well, too! Maybe we'll see him back one day and he can earn his way off this list. For now, he's a giant bust.

1. Pete Rose, Jr.

And now... the biggest 2nd generation bust of the last 30 years.... Pete Rose, Jr. But first, let's find out a little more about his daddy, Pete Rose. What else can you say about "Charlie Hustle" (other than the fact that his name isn't Charlie, or even Charles)? He is arguably the best hitter of all time. In his 24 seasons for the Reds, Phillies and Expos, Rose did it all. He is the all-time hits leader with 4,256. He won 3 batting titles, was a 17 time all-star, won the 1963 rookie of the year, and even the 1973 National League MVP Award. The only reason Rose isn't in the hall of fame is because he bet on baseball games, and because Commissioner A. Bartlet Giamatti (father of actor Paul) passed away in 1989. Rumor has it Giammati was set re-instate Rose, but died only a few months before he could do it. Alas, Pete is now just the best player ever to be excluded from the HOF.

That brings us to Peter Edward Rose, Jr. In this case, the apple not only fell far from the tree. It sat on the ground for months, rotted, and was eaten by a raccoon, who then got sick from it and died. Junior was drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in the 12th round of the 1988 draft, and was eventually traded twice, and then released twice before landing on his father's old team in 1996. Again, a case of a team hoping that paternal legend would inspire the son to raise his level of play. A funny thing happened on the way to that though. Rose Jr. went from a slappy "punch and judy" type hitter to a legitimate power hitter. Rose was 27 at the time, the age when most players begin to enter their prime, so this wouldn't normally raise too many eyebrows. The fact that it was 1997, the heart of the steroids era in Major League Baseball, makes you go hmm... Anyway this surge of power (natural or anabolically enhanced) finally earned Jr. his ticket to the bigs. Did he burst onto the scene and shine brightly in Cincy? Negative, Ghost Rider. Eleven games and two singles later, Pete Rose, Jr.'s big league career ended.

In 2006, Rose was convicted of distribution of the "date-rape" drug GBL. Now, don't jump to conclusions... When injected, GBL is a known performance enhancer and sedative (although, I guess he could have been a rapist too). Rose's conviction came from events that happened in the late 1990s. Say, isn't that when he suddenly became a power-- oh...right. So, even though Rose and Rose, Jr. didn't have the same type of major league career, at least they both served time in Federal Prison! Maybe the apple fell a little closer to the tree than we thought!

What We Learned:

What exactly did we learn here? We learned that for every Bobby and Barry Bonds, there's probably a couple of Pete and Pete Roses. Like anywhere else in life, just because the father is good at it, doesn't mean the son will be. My dad, for example, has rebuilt every room in my house. I, on the other hand, write about sports on the internet. You can't always bank on genetics when it comes to making a great professional anything, especially an athlete. Furthermore, playing for the team your father starred for does not help struggling 2nd generation major leaguers to prosper. Playing for your dad's former team can often lead to increased pressure from fans, front office and even from within the athlete himself. It's tough to fill Hall of Fame cleats. Players are better off finding their own shoes in their own time-frame. So, what does this mean for Dante Bichette, Jr.? I'm not sure, but at least he didn't get drafted by the Rockies.


Bichette image courtesy of: http://www.myyesnetwork.com
Perez image courtesy of: http://bleacherreport.com
Gwynn image courtesy of: http://static.sdnn.com
Raines image courtesy of: http://baseballmexico.blogspot.com
Peña image courtesy of: http://mlb.mlb.com