Back at last

The regular season is so close you can taste it, and we Peanuts are back from our long hibernation with our season preview posts. Later in this week we'll post our preview of the Twins season (the optimistic, pessimistic, and realistic points of view) and predictions for the year ahead from the smartest analysts we know.

But first, the reason for the prolonged delay between posts. It turns out that it's easier to post about things when you don't have a full time job to attend to. With Stinky in her cube, and me tapdancing for 80 kids a day there's a lot to get done. So most of our days are filled with the reading of e-mails and essays on personal heroes or meaningful innovations. After work we've got choirs to sing for and track teams to coach and as if that weren't enough, we've just packed up our entire household and moved into a new home.

One thing that comes along with moving is chronicling just how much baseball stuff we have: a piece of Target Field artwork; bobbleheaded Joe Mauer; framed photos of Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner (bought during one of our earliest dates); signed balls; at least five kinds of TC hats and books like Crazy '08, Baseball in the Garden of Eden, The Glory of Their Times and Shoeless Joe. Moving also unearths prized possessions you forgot you had (particularly when your parents want to unload long dormant boxes in their basement).

That's when you discover this:

Yes, that would be a treasure trove of baseball cards, acquired when I was about 5 years old. I was convinced every card would feature a Hall of Famer, a legend in the making. Almost 25 years later I can see a whole lot of Frank DiPino's and Lance Johnson's and very few recognizable anythings. But with the benefit of hindsight I can chuckle at Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams before he had a mullet; Dave Concepcion in his final days; Kevin Seitzer (pre-glory days) and Chris Bosio (sans goggles). But there are a few particular names that stand out:

Clockwise from Top Left: Ron Gant, Mike Socia, Ken Williams, Jamie Moyer

This quartet will get no plaques or plaudits but I can remember them all clear as day. I remember Ron Gant getting pulled losing his balance scampering back to first in the '91 series. I remember Mike Socia winning the '02 series (coming back from his debilitating stint on the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant Softball Team). I remember Jamie Moyer making the Rockies last week (and making the Rockies back when he was minor league in the Paleozoic era). And I remember Kenny Williams, not from his playing days, but just from being a nice guy to a punk kid working in PR for a rookie league club in Montana.

Clockwise from Top L: Roy Smalley, Les Straker, Tim Laudner, Chili Davis

Sadly, from my tonnage of cards there were maybe 5 Twins cards, perhaps they were held back from packs after they won the World Series. But in none of my stacks of cards was there a Kirby or a Hrbek, there were two members of the FSN Team in Roy Smalley and Tim Laudner (even if I can't remember them playing a game. There's also a then rookie Les Straeker with his lofty hopes before a DL trip ended his career. And there's Chili Davis three years away from being "my guy" on the '91 Twins. But of all the piles of cards there are only two that really stand out.

TK looks thoroughly managerial here. Chaw shifted off to one side, looking askance at some shenanigan by the dugout. Pondering exactly how to say "shape up or ship out young man"...actually he probably would just say that. With TK's number set to be retired later this year, we are proud to salute him.

Best of all, there's this card of last year's retired number honoree: Bert Aberforce Blyleven. It might be a little better if there was an "I heart to fart" shirt, but as the most decorated and revered player in my baseball card collection we'll settle for his grizzled beard and death stare as some sort of absurdist ploy to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies...and also set up the curve ball.

Now that I've sorted through all these cards, and all the books and all the knick-knacks and doodads that comprise our Twins fandom, it's time to turn our eyes to the field and root root root for the home team. We're glad to be back (and if you are looking for a Danny Cox baseball card...give me a call)

Greatest. Promotional Idea. Ever.

Now that pitchers and catchers have officially reported to Ft. Meyers we can turn off the hot stove and turn on our baseball brains.

My baseball brain would like to offer the Twins the following promotional opportunity. The team recently announced that, for the first time in a decade, there would be no bobblehead give-away day this season. Since the bobbleheads were once a big lure for a team struggling to draw fans, boost attendance and generate revenue to put back into payroll, we need some kind of new event.

SO! We propose that, for one day this year, we turn Target Field into: Twinton Abbey!

This is made possible by the Pohlad Charitable Trust and Fans like You

Thrill at the drama as Lord Gardenhire tries to navigate the tumultuous world of the American League; Swoon as heir to all Twins Territory, Joe Mauer, mulls whether or not he can accept these responsibilities and the love of a good woman; Laugh at the lastest zinger from the Dowager Count Terry Ryan! ("Don't be a defeatist dear; it's so middle class, we might as well live in Oakland!")

We could have fans play the servants and mow the grass/fill the gatorade jug before the game. Dick and Bert could call the whole thing in a British accent. And after the game, season-ticket holders can have a formal dinner with the players at which something shocking is announced (war; engagement; end-of-war; trade of Matt Capps; end-of-engagement; Spanish-flu outbreak, etc).

Given the wild popularity of the show, baseball's inherent fondness for "turn-back-the-clock" type promotions, and the fact that PBS has been guilting people into giving them money for decades this is a no-brainer! Easy money for the Twins and pure hilarity for the fans.

Twins officials: I await your phone call!

Closing Arguments

In case you haven't noticed; there is a poll available at the right side of this screen that invites you to vote for the next members of the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame.

This is not a Hall of Fame for the greatest Twins players in history--just as this is not the greatest blog in Twins history--instead this Hall of Fame aspires to be what we aspire to be: a place for the fun, the quirky and the things that make you laugh and smile while watching a game. Our first inductee was the master of farts Bert Blyleven, then hyperactive center-fielder/puppy personified Carlos Gomez, then the dictionary definition of scrappiness Nick Punto.

Today we have nine nominees vying for election...it takes 75% to get elected (or at least the top vote getter) and 10% to stay on the ballot for next year. And since the most entertaining thing that has been on this winter (other than Downton Abbey, obviously)  has been the spirited exchange of ideas/interminable car wreck of political aspirations known as the Republican Presidential Debates--we thought we'd give each candidate a chance to make their final case for enshrinement. Consider their claims and cast your ballot at the right--only 4 days left to vote! Make them count!

Jesse Crain 

(the only returning candidate from last year)

I believe that the reasons I would make a good Hall of Famer can be best summarized through a detailed analysis of the inter-related ideas of existentialist philosophers like Viktor Frankl and Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek, you see following the inhuman betrayal of our shared human values...[5 minutes later]...leaving the only possible explanation for both the meaning of life and the reason for a limited government: my excellent slider! Thank you.

Jim Thome

I never tried to make lofty, absurd promises to Twins Territory, I just spoke softly and carried a big stick that hit big homeruns. The citizens of Twins Territory don't need promises, they need a calm, steady, potato-ish presence in the line up, I did that proudly for two years. I even walked around with a big blue ox, because hey, I figured y'all would like it. If elected to the Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Fame, I will be polite, dignified and hit home runs...you're welcome.

Delmon Young

You people never thought I'd do the things I did, but I always surprised you! Just when it looked like a ball would fly over my head for a devastating double, I'd randomly decide to leap and find the thing! Just when it looked like I'd catch the ball for an inning ending out, I'd lose it in the sun or the roof, or a cloud! Admit it, you could never predict what I'd do next! I'd always leave you guessing! What's more exciting than having that: EVERY SINGLE BALLGAME!! Elect me to the Peanuts Hall of Fame and who knows what I'll do? Ground into a double play? Try to leg out a triple? Establish a colony on the moon? WHO KNOWS?!? ELECT ME AND FIND OUT!!!

Joe Nathan

BLAGHERAGHERAGHERAGH!!!! STRIKEOUTS! GERAAAAGHHERAGAAAAAGGA!!! WINNING!!!!! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGH!!! VOTE JOE!!! BLARK!!!

This may be our last chance to refer to Dread Pirate Joe Nathan
We had to take it

Kevin Slowey

I know a little something about entertainment, and I know a little something about job creation. I provided you fans with countless games of entertainment, when I found a good pitching groove and suddenly turned in 7 or 8 innings of near total domination--that was entertaining. When I didn't, and I left after 3 or 5 innings in total confusion and disarray--well, I was just making sure that our bullpen guys had opportunities to prove themselves. Otherwise they'd be without big league contracts, and salaries, and their kids would suffer and the backbone of our society (middle relievers) would collapse! You wouldn't want that to happen would you? Of course not...so, that's why you should vote for me...I'm entertaining, and I'm doing my part to make pitching staffs strong again for ourselves, and our children.

Jose Mijares

I did three things that make me worth of being a Peanuts from Heaven Hall of Famer. I threw the ball really hard. I didn't sue when these bloggers photoshopped my head on a Princess drawing. And, uhh...uhh....oops.

Jason Kubel

Sure, I could tell you why I deserve election, but look at these other candidates! Kevin Slowey talks about putting relievers to work, but he single handedly put Boof Bonser out of a job! (What about Boof?!?) And Delmon Young? He's a serial flip-flopper: "I'll catch the ball. I won't catch the ball. I'll hit the ball. I won't ever hit the ball." How do we know the real Delmon Young is here? And I think that Joe Nathan is a secret african pirate who tried to turn Twins Territory into a socialist society where fluttering your lips replaced English as the national language!* I'm Jason Kubel, and I play baseball...vote for me!

*This message paid for by Smirking For America

Jim Hoey

Umm...I'm just gonna leave...

Michael Cuddyer

Sure, I could tell you about the all-star appearance, the charity work, the strong arm in right field, the steady professional hitting, the magic tricks, the ability to play any position Gardy asked me. But I think you're all sick of campaigning, and besides, isn't this enough? [Smiles, a soft *ping* is heard, everyone is happy]

So there you go, the choice is yours Twins fans; cast your votes in the poll (for as many as you like) and we'll photoshop the winning plaques by opening day!

The Grim Goodbye

Nice sandwich, buddy

I've written before that one of the things I like best about baseball is the sense of family that surrounds a franchise and a team and a community. You can draw a direct line through the annual rosters: from my mother watching Tony Oliva in the bleachers at Met stadium as a kid, to my grandfather enjoying box seats with Rod Carew and Roy Smalley in the infield. From my brothers and I getting our first taste of big league ball with Kirby and Kent Hrbek under the dome (and still loving an annual game when the "stars" were Chuck Knoblauch and Matt Lawton), to the perpetual October excitement on my college campus as Torii led the rejuvenation and then passed the baton to Morneau and Mauer.

It feels like the Twins are a part of my family and when you see Tony O. smiling next to his sandwiches and Hrbek pouring beers and Torii gushing about the best pancakes in town, it's easy to forget that not every relationship with beloved stars ends like this. Growing up in the mountain west it was easy to cheer for Karl Malone and the Utah Jazz...now they may not even want to be mentioned in the same sentence. Peyton Manning seemed likely to be buried in a blue and white Colts jersey and now the media is ablaze with rumors about where he will land next. Oh, and speaking of ablaze...

Thing is, you don't really see that at Target Field. We've said goodbye to our share of stars, but next season you'll see plenty of "Hunter 48"s and "Santana 57"s and "Cuddyer 5"s dotting the stands. And in ten years--when we sit back and reminisce about our run of division championships in the aughts--it's easy to imagine each alumnus throwing out a first pitch, sitting next to Dick Bremer for an inning, being polite and proudly cheered whenever they turn up.

So is that we don't care enough? That our players are so aware of our mild-mannered Minnesota-Niceness that they don't feel a need to get hot and bothered either? That the media is so ambivalent about our "small-market" that Joe Mauer could launch into an obscenity laced tirade against umpires, Bud Selig and TC Bear, without prompting so much as a three-second drop in on Sportscenter?

Actually, I think it's just that we haven't been forced into the situation that the Jazz and the Colts have faced. In each case there was a superstar athlete, a career-long member of the family who, for one reason or another, felt that management didn't want them around any more; and who, for one reason or another, management pretty much...didn't want around any more. It is as close to a sports divorce as you can find.

Strange but true

After all those years of adulation and affection to suddenly hear that your services are no longer required is a rough business. And it's not surprising that premier athletes, who have had every reason to be confident in their greatness from the age of 17 on, believe they can go another season and another and another. But when that belief contradicts management's assessment the battle for custody of the fan's affection begins. If the fans side with the player, there is a good chance of bronze statues and special ceremonies for your twilight years; if fans side with management...well...you get Hank Aaron the Brewer and Greg Maddux the Dodger. The Twins haven't had any of these bad breakups, we allow players in their prime venture out in search of wealth and fame and fortune; sad to see them go but grateful for the time we had together.

Of course, that may all change soon. After all, we love Justin Morneau, the big walloping Canuck who can hold down first base like a goalie. Heck, Stinky used to plot ways of getting him to her place (this of course was prior to our marriage). But Morneau's about to turn 31, he's missed large parts of the last three seasons with back and concussion issues and at a certain point you wonder if the Twins will say: "sorry big guy, you're done here." Already the drumbeat has started, people hope for the best and then mention, Chris Parmalee as an insurance policy, and hey, Derek Lee's still out there, could we maybe...? We can't help but think about the future and admit (however grudgingly) that this can't last. (I won't even mention the mutterings about the other half of the M&M boys)

Other bloggers can break down the factors that feed into the Twins decision making process; what in house options we have, what other franchises might be willing to take on the salary risk now or in the near future. But I'm not as concerned with that as I am with the franchise's family and with postponing a grim goodbye as long as possible. I want Justin to succeed because he's part of the lineage now and I'd rather keep him for the consistency of the clubhouse rather than wash our hands of him because of recent issues.  What's more, I know that there will be a day when Morneau can be appreciated as a happy memory to be recalled with fondness rather than as a potential lynchpin of our lineup that causes worry and consternation. And when Stinky and I have a child or grandchild sitting beside us in the nosebleeds telling them about the good ol' days and drawing the line from our favorites to the current stars, I hope that, like Tony and Kent, and Torii that Morneau will want to come back, to throw out a ceremonial pitch to the new young guns, to reminisce in sepia tones about the good ol' days.

After all he's part of the family, and who really likes to say goodbye to family?

If Baseball Were More Like Football

While millions of people around the globe are coming together tonight in order to worship the dueling gods of pigskins, cheesy dips for starchy snacks and advertisements featuring scantily clad females, I am spending it as I have spent many of the last few Super Sundays: waiting for pitchers and catchers to report.

However, my devotion to baseball and disdain for football is not terribly common among modern day sports fans, and I've often heard people whine that "if baseball were more like football I'd watch it more often..." So I thought it might be interesting to explore just what it would be like if baseball was indeed more like football.

If baseball was more like football...

Batting 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th...

• your offense would just hand off the bat to the same dominating hitter again and again and again, but with the best hitters averaging success 3 out of 10 times--scores would drop dramatically.

• your defense would be more concerned with finding ways to blindside the batter before he got out of the box than with catching the ball. 

• every single play would end with an absurd amount of capering about the field: slashing throats for successful bunts; thumping chests after catching a routine pop-up; skipping, hopping, and waving arms to the multitudes after an intentional walk.

• managers would feel obliged to come up with mass substitutions of absurdly specialized position players (i.e. a third-and-long-pulling guard turns into a two-out-right-handed-shift-second-baseman).

• an entire nation of pundits would foam at the mouth for four months about one player's unconventional style of throwing the ball, and legions of otherwise rational people would blow a gasket with unwavering certainty that an unusual player sucks.
• the greatest players of all time would be just as likely to retire to pursue acting careers and avoid life altering injuries as they would be to become legends.

• the seventh-inning stretch would extend to a seventh-inning nap as bands march across the outfield, cheerleaders shimmy around the foul territory and fading pop stars croon a set from the pitcher's mound.

• your manager would spend more time scowling at the voices coming through his headset and less time having gloriously goofy temper tantrums at home plate. 

Option A: Fat man looks sad                                   Option B: Fat man looks crazy

Easy choice...

• teams would have to huddle to pick plays before each pitch ("okay, hit the ball on two, hit the ball on two...ready?...Break!")

• --worst of all--the championship of a six month long season full ups and downs, twists and turns, would be reduced to "that-thing-that's-on-in-the-background-while-everybody-talks-about-a Budwieser-commercial."

What do you think? Am I missing out on a glorious alterante reality, or did I forget something that would drive you similarly crazy (leave a comment below! And don't forget to vote on the next members of the Heavenly Peanuts Hall of Fame (ballot at right)

Since the teacher in me has the day off today, but the baseball fan (as always) does not, I thought it might be interesting to write a little on race and baseball in Minnesota.  It's is a subject we don't think about it too much, and to squash our thoughts about it into one day a year may be a bit of a disservice, but the Twins do have many sincere stewards of the game, from Kirby and Dave Winfield's work supporting the RBI League to honest and serious community builders like Torii Hunter and Denard Span. It feels like we've done well.

St. Paul Colored Gophers (1909?)

Yet, for all the fuzzy feelings about our team today, it's unfortunate that the Twins' history in Minnesota begins with an unpleasant truth. The Washington Senators, having faded from the glory of their days with Walter Johnson and Goose Goslin, were eager to move out of their home in the nation's capital. The team was only marginally profitable, the rosters were full of the marginally talented (and Harmon Killebrew), but the full reasons weren't clear until the 1970s when owner Calvin Griffith explained: 

"I'll tell you why we came to Minnesota. It was when we found out you only had 15,000 blacks here. Black people don't go to ballgames, but they'll fill up a rassling ring and put up such a chant it'll scare you to death. We came here because you've got good, hardworking white people here." (Source here)

Griffith may have hemmed and hawed about this, claiming misquotation, libel and the old "it-was-a-joke" routine, but that seems unlikely. Brad Snyder's excellently researched Beyond the Shadow of the Senators explains how, despite Hall of Fame calibre talent on the Negro League squad who shared Griffith Stadium with the Senators (Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige and Buck Leonard to name but three), the Senators owners refused to integrate their team either when these players were at the peak of their talents (and the Senators were desperate for talent) or for seven years after Jackie Robinson debuted, thereby dooming their team in Washington DC and necessitating the move to Minneapolis.

Twin Cities Colored Giants

That our Twins were born of such short-sighted narrow-mindedness is unfortunate, but if there is a comfort it rests in the fact that Calvin Griffith was an ignorant shmo. Because while our minority population may be small, we've long been able to support minority baseball as well as anybody else. 

The truth is that African-Americans have been a part of baseball in Minnesota for far longer than the Griffiths could ever be (see Steve Hoffbeck's excellent chronicle of black-baseball in Minnesota). The same year Moses "Fleet" Walker was playing for Toledo, Bud Fowler was playing second base for Stillwater. From George Wilson and Billy Holland with Waseca, to Alex Irwin and Milroy McCune with the Minneapolis Keystones, to stars Ted "Double Duty" Radcliffe and the visionary Andrew "Rube" Foster, citizens (both black and white) turned up to see games and players and teams throughout Minnesota. 

The Twin Cities supported two Negro League squads including the Twin Cities Colored Giants and the St. Paul Colored Gophers, and fans came and cheered because they liked the game and-- regardless of what the Griffiths' might have believed--the support was there for good baseball no matter who played it and no matter who was allowed in to watch it. 

Let's pretend he was ours

Even later, after integration began, Minneapolis and St. Paul warmly welcomed stars in the making Roy Campanella and Willie Mays. The enticing white crowds the Griffiths wanted were excited and dedicated to pitchers like Mudcat Grant and Les Straker, they had affinities for role players like Chili Davis and Shane Mack, and they worshipped the centerfield legend: Kirby Puckett. 

These are our teams and our players and, as fans, the gulf between cheering for one or the other never seems quite as great as the Griffith's made it seem. It's easy to say that, as an old Baseball Magazine put it: "[all men are equal] at a ballgame: banker and bricklayer, lawyer and common laborer." But in reality, I'm writing from a very different time than the Griffiths. And though fans today excitedly look past many of our largest differences we are prone to forget the challenges and struggles and accomplishments that people like Fowler, Wilson, McCune and others had to go through to build the enduring legacy for players like Denard Span and Ben Revere and fans like all of us.

Today is a day to remember more than the successes and the struggles of race relations throughout our country. It's more than a time to cringe at Calvin Griffith's quote or puff ourselves up with some of our history. We can be satisfied with how far we've come and appreciative of how seriously we take our heritage, but we can also consider what comes next: maybe the Twins might hire an African-American manager, or maybe we'll hire an African-American GM to take over after Terry Ryan. But above all we can continue the work of Kirby Puckett, and Denard Span and St. Paul's own Dave Winfield and encourage local kids to pursue their goals through athletics and work ethic and teamwork. 

This is more than a day off, it's a call to action and at the risk of being a preachy teacher, it's not just what Dr. King might have dreamed of, or what Rube Foster might have imagined, but what we can all do personally, locally and immediately to help our community.

You're Good...But are you Plaque Good?

While voting continues for the Peanuts From Heaven Hall of Fame (see widget at the right), today marks the announcement of the inductees to that OTHER baseball hall of fame: the one that places "accomplishment" and "excellence" above nobler pursuits like "amusing us" and "inspiring goofy photoshops." (Seriously--vote for the most amusing Twins who left the team this last year and do it now!)

Last year the Baseball Hall of Fame enshrined Bert Blyleven (two years after we did, it should be noted), and Bert's special day became a highlight in an otherwise stinktastic Twins season. This warm and fuzzy memory led us to wonder if another Twins legend could get the call and brighten up our summers in the near future.

After all, if the Cubs had four Hall of Famers {Ernie Banks, Ferguson Jenkins, Billy Williams, Ron Santo} on their roster during a period of time where they won absolutely nothing (1966-1971), then you would assume that the Twins might have had two or three serious candidates during a five year span (02-06) of four division titles.

So we did a very un-Peanutly thing and crunched a few numbers (hopefully correctly). Using Baseball-Reference.com's list of all time Wins over Replacement (WAR) leaders, we compared a few favorite Twins to the top 100 Hall of Famers and similar players who haven't been elected to Cooperstown yet. We figured if Wins over Replacement tell you how valuable and effective certain players are, and if the voters for the Hall of Fame become nerdier and more SABR-metric-y in the next decade or so (SPOILER: they will), then comparing our current player's WAR/Season against those of the game's legends should give us a sense of their chances. Here's how a few favorites stack up.

Hall of Fame WAR/Season Average: 4.68; Pitchers--4.68; Hitters--4.46
Non-Inductees WAR/Season Avg.: 3.86; Pitchers 3.86; Hitters--4.04 (subtract admitted/named steroid users and it's 3.86)

Classic Twins

Jim Kaat (1.65) and Tony Oliva (2.83) are frequently mentioned as "could be" inductees who are just waiting on their chums on the veteran's committee to give them the thumbs up. The problem is that both Oliva and Kaat rate below their peers already in the hall on overall WAR, even when you account for Oliva's short peak his per season WAR rates below all but three of the top 100 (Carlton Fisk, Harmon Killebrew and the immortal Bobby Wallace). So, our suggestion is for Kaat and Oliva to bake some cookies, or cakes or coquitos and woo some of their old playing buddies.

Jack Morris (2.18) is perhaps the best pitcher on the ballot this year but after getting a little more than 50% of the vote last year seems unlikely to leap up to the 75% thresh hold for induction. It doesn't help matters that Morris rates below all current hall of famers and a whole bunch of others who will get on the ballot next year. While we love Black Jack for his broadcasting and St. Paul roots and buying a ranch house near my childhood home and for the sheer genius of Game 7 it looks like he might be waiting longer for a call from Cooperstown longer than I waited for a call from the head cheerleader (wait was that a burn on Morris...or me?).

When you look at this year's ballot and realize that Brad Radke (3.14) is on it, you might feel, that time is a fleeting thing. Bradke hasn't been gone that long has he? 5 years, really? Sure enough the Twins' work horse is officially out to pasture and pretty well guaranteed of being chucked from the ballot with little consideration. Sure he's a local favorite and our judgement might cloud our judgement--but is worth noting that he has a better per season WAR over his relatively brief career than Curt Schilling, Tom Glavine and John Smoltz. Of course those guys all have fancy hardware on their mantlepieces and World Series rings on their fingers and Radke, you know, doesn't. (Sorry, Brad)

Current Players, Future Balloteers

While Radke's contributions to our run of success were important, he wasn't at his best then, and indeed some of those who were young and vital to the team are still playing, compiling stats and dreaming of that little Bronze Plaque. 

Hugs make missing the Hall of Fame feel less painful

Torii Hunter (2.12) stuck around for all four of those early division winners as he nears the twilight of his career he's a long way away from enshrinement levels (but he will be a free agent next winter, HINT-HINT). Ditto Joe Nathan (2.01), because while standards for closers are different than for other players, our beloved Dread Pirate will always be known to writers outside of the Midwest as "that really good closer who wasn't Mariano Rivera." Justin Morneau (2.17) is an interesting case because, while he had a stellar three-year-run, he also has been pretty much lost two years in his prime. If he'd been healthy and consistent during that time he might be approaching consideration...as is he seems like a Canadian Roger Maris. (No offense intended to either Morneau or Maris--that would be a good, though somber, three-four combination.)

The real talk has to start with Johan Santana (4.23), you know, that ace pitcher we bade farewell a few years ago--without whom our rotation has never really been the same--not that we're bitter or hold a grudge or anything. With just 11 years in the league Senor Santana has a solid WAR and WAR/Season, he's a little behind the top 100 average but well ahed of the guys who are about to get on the ballot. (Schilling, Glavine, Smoltz, Randy Johnson, etc.) He'll need to come back from shoulder surgery, but if he acquits himself well for the next three or four years he can show off his two Cy Youngs and have a great shot at immortalization (and seriously...no way he goes in with a Mets cap).

But the man we'll most likely be seeing on the walls of Cooperstown with the interlocking TC on his hat is Joseph Patrick Mauer (5.04). Sure there's a lot to be seen as he returns from pneumonia/knee surgery/bilateral leg weakness and hits in the middle of a fairly unprotective line-up and tries to catch and hit and do all those Mauery things, but here's the deal: through 8 seasons Mauer's WAR/Season is better than Johnny Bench, Jimmie Fox, Napolean Lajoie and Mel Ott; just a hair behind Frank Robinsons. Even with a sharp decline in his last two years he should best the Hall Average and be ready to deliver a speech full of scintillating Mauerisms "You know...umm...I'm really glad to...you know...umm...be here with...umm..you know..."(Sorry Joe, we kid because we love!)

Blessings on you my...you know...children