I have a confession to make: I didn't watch this game. Not on TV, not on MLB.tv, not thru the magic of Gamecast or Gamezapper or Gamewhateveritsacraptasticsubstitutionfortv. Did I watch highlights? I did not. Did I read the Instant Replay on Da Box? I did not. Did I know there was a game? Well, that would be appear to be obvious. Nonetheless, all I have is the box score. So what did I learn?
• When you have zero knowledge of a game, singles really do look like line drives in the box score. More than that? When you're the only player not to get a hit, even if it's just two at-bats—or even, as in the case of Marshall McDougall, if you don't get an at-bat but have all sort of zeros after your name—it just looks very, very, very sad. Of course, when you're Eric Hinske, the one player besides McDougall not to collect a hit, compiling zeros next to your name in box scores is not exactly a new thing.
• Brandon League has returned to the majors, but was about as effective Saturday as he was in his prior stint. That is to say, not very effective.
• Aaron Hill has a .342 BA.
• Ken Huckaby (.148) does not.
• Kenny Rogers has a 2.54 E.R.A.
• Justin Miller (15.43) does not.
• Three RBI—attained by three different hitters—seems like a solid effort, until you see that somebody had six, which seems at least twice as solid. Nay, one might even say super solid.
• The Blue Jays had 15 hits, zero walks, a hit-batsman, and left five runners on base on the way to their 10 runs. That, kids, is efficiency. I think? Four other teams scored 10 or more runs Saturday night. Against the Twins, the Royals tallied 12, on 21 (!) hits and six walks, stranding 12 runners in eight innings. The Pirates put a handless-baker's dozen on the Mets (11 runs, if you don't get my attempt at "humour"), collecting 12 hits and five walks, leaving six runners on. My beloved Athletics used 11 hits and four walks to score 10 runs against the White Sox, while six of those baserunners failed to score. And, of course, the Rangers collected 15 hits and two walks en route to their 12-10 win. They left four men on base. What does all this mean? I dunno. It just seemed like an excuse to posit that a handless baker's dozen is 11.
• The 22 runs were scored over five different half-innings. Again, let's have a look at some other games from last night. In the Twins/Royals tilt, 20 runs were scored in seven half-frames. The Yankees and Indians combined for 15 runs, using eight different half-innings to do so. Over in Atlanta, the Brewers and Braves accumulated 15 runs, and they too did the scoring in eight separate half-innings. Fifteen runners crossed the plate in the Mets/Pirates affair, and they did so in seven half-innings. Again, what does all this mean? Not much.
• What number should come next in the following sequence? 13, 12, 11 . . . Well, duh. It's 10, right? Even an English major like me could figure that out. What if I told you, in this case, it's four? And, really, in this instance, nobody wants that number to be 10. Why? From where do I cull this numerical conundrum? Why, from the "batters faced" column. Scott Downs faced 13, Justin Miller 12, League 11, and Vinny Chulk four. What does all that mean? Even less than it seems.
What did I not learn from the box score?
• How the Jays are going to do without Roy Halladay. They've been here before, not very long ago, but the obvious differences between this year and last year are that 1) The Jays are skulking near a wild-card spot; 2) Halladay wasn't very good last year; 3) That's it, I have nothing else, but it's always best to use three points to emphasize your one point.
Just today, as my mom and I were watching Sportscenter, she remarked to me, "Is it me or are there more injuries this year?" I dismissed that out of hand, and if I had the energy to do the research, I'd back it up. But I admit: it seems there are more injuries this year, or at least involving high-calibre players. The Angels have lost their best hitter, their best reliever, and, at minimum, their second-best starter, and they seem to have weathered the situation fairly well. The A's lost their best starter, their closer, and a few other fellows, and they're back in the Wild-Card race. The Red Sox have been without their best starter, and now they're without their closer, and nobody thinks they're going to fold. In the National League, the Braves don't have . . . oh, forget it. Like anybody can explain the Braves. The Dodgers do seem to be taking their injury situation a bit harder than their neighbours to the more affluent south: they're crumbling, basically, without 2/3 of their outfield, their shortstop, their closer, and others. The Giants? Well, their injuries are not altogether surprising, and since one of them happens to be to the best player in the game, we can understand why they are reeling.
Look, injuries happen. They are part of the game. They (insert standard cliché here). Etc. One has to think the Jays can endure the loss of Halladay, especially if:
1) Ted Lilly continues to pitch well;
2) David Bush re-establishes himself at the big-league level;
3) They continue to get serviceable relief work from Jason Frasor, Chulk, and Miguel Batista;
4) Gustavo Chacin lowers his WHIP (1.40) or continues being either "lucky" or "clutch," depending on how you view such things, because the 3.57 E.R.A. he has now should go up if he keeps allowing that many base-runners. (Incidentally, if "clutch" is an unmeasurable intangible, isn't "luck" the exact same thing?)
The offence is going to need to do its share, as well. Only, are they able? Looking up and down the lineup, who's not hitting up to snuff? Ok, Vernon Wells, and possibly Orlando Hudson. It's tempting to say that Hinkse will get better, but the trend for his career is clear: down. And when Corey Koskie comes back, that can't hurt. But Shea Hillenbrand is due for his usual second-half fade and you've got to think Aaron Hill will slow down. And everyone else would seem to be at or near their expected levels of contribution. In other words, this is as good as it's likely to get, barring the unexpected acquisition of, say, Vladimir Guerrero.
Make no mistake: losing Halladay, even if he misses only seven starts, is a blow. He was not only on his way to the AL Cy Young, but he was also going to figure in the AL MVP voting, particularly if the Blue Jays turned it on and won the AL Wild Card. He's not as valuable to the Jays as Barry Bonds is to the Giants, but it's hard to find a player in the majors more valuable to his team than Halladay is to the Jays.
That said, I suspect the Jays will be fine, and when Halladay returns they will find themselves right around where they are now: on the cusp of contention . . . or not.
Which brings us right back to the beginning. The most important thing I learned about last night's game? You really can't learn much about a baseball game, its ancillary effects, and its future portents, from a boxscore.
• When you have zero knowledge of a game, singles really do look like line drives in the box score. More than that? When you're the only player not to get a hit, even if it's just two at-bats—or even, as in the case of Marshall McDougall, if you don't get an at-bat but have all sort of zeros after your name—it just looks very, very, very sad. Of course, when you're Eric Hinske, the one player besides McDougall not to collect a hit, compiling zeros next to your name in box scores is not exactly a new thing.
• Brandon League has returned to the majors, but was about as effective Saturday as he was in his prior stint. That is to say, not very effective.
• Aaron Hill has a .342 BA.
• Ken Huckaby (.148) does not.
• Kenny Rogers has a 2.54 E.R.A.
• Justin Miller (15.43) does not.
• Three RBI—attained by three different hitters—seems like a solid effort, until you see that somebody had six, which seems at least twice as solid. Nay, one might even say super solid.
• The Blue Jays had 15 hits, zero walks, a hit-batsman, and left five runners on base on the way to their 10 runs. That, kids, is efficiency. I think? Four other teams scored 10 or more runs Saturday night. Against the Twins, the Royals tallied 12, on 21 (!) hits and six walks, stranding 12 runners in eight innings. The Pirates put a handless-baker's dozen on the Mets (11 runs, if you don't get my attempt at "humour"), collecting 12 hits and five walks, leaving six runners on. My beloved Athletics used 11 hits and four walks to score 10 runs against the White Sox, while six of those baserunners failed to score. And, of course, the Rangers collected 15 hits and two walks en route to their 12-10 win. They left four men on base. What does all this mean? I dunno. It just seemed like an excuse to posit that a handless baker's dozen is 11.
• The 22 runs were scored over five different half-innings. Again, let's have a look at some other games from last night. In the Twins/Royals tilt, 20 runs were scored in seven half-frames. The Yankees and Indians combined for 15 runs, using eight different half-innings to do so. Over in Atlanta, the Brewers and Braves accumulated 15 runs, and they too did the scoring in eight separate half-innings. Fifteen runners crossed the plate in the Mets/Pirates affair, and they did so in seven half-innings. Again, what does all this mean? Not much.
• What number should come next in the following sequence? 13, 12, 11 . . . Well, duh. It's 10, right? Even an English major like me could figure that out. What if I told you, in this case, it's four? And, really, in this instance, nobody wants that number to be 10. Why? From where do I cull this numerical conundrum? Why, from the "batters faced" column. Scott Downs faced 13, Justin Miller 12, League 11, and Vinny Chulk four. What does all that mean? Even less than it seems.
What did I not learn from the box score?
• How the Jays are going to do without Roy Halladay. They've been here before, not very long ago, but the obvious differences between this year and last year are that 1) The Jays are skulking near a wild-card spot; 2) Halladay wasn't very good last year; 3) That's it, I have nothing else, but it's always best to use three points to emphasize your one point.
Just today, as my mom and I were watching Sportscenter, she remarked to me, "Is it me or are there more injuries this year?" I dismissed that out of hand, and if I had the energy to do the research, I'd back it up. But I admit: it seems there are more injuries this year, or at least involving high-calibre players. The Angels have lost their best hitter, their best reliever, and, at minimum, their second-best starter, and they seem to have weathered the situation fairly well. The A's lost their best starter, their closer, and a few other fellows, and they're back in the Wild-Card race. The Red Sox have been without their best starter, and now they're without their closer, and nobody thinks they're going to fold. In the National League, the Braves don't have . . . oh, forget it. Like anybody can explain the Braves. The Dodgers do seem to be taking their injury situation a bit harder than their neighbours to the more affluent south: they're crumbling, basically, without 2/3 of their outfield, their shortstop, their closer, and others. The Giants? Well, their injuries are not altogether surprising, and since one of them happens to be to the best player in the game, we can understand why they are reeling.
Look, injuries happen. They are part of the game. They (insert standard cliché here). Etc. One has to think the Jays can endure the loss of Halladay, especially if:
1) Ted Lilly continues to pitch well;
2) David Bush re-establishes himself at the big-league level;
3) They continue to get serviceable relief work from Jason Frasor, Chulk, and Miguel Batista;
4) Gustavo Chacin lowers his WHIP (1.40) or continues being either "lucky" or "clutch," depending on how you view such things, because the 3.57 E.R.A. he has now should go up if he keeps allowing that many base-runners. (Incidentally, if "clutch" is an unmeasurable intangible, isn't "luck" the exact same thing?)
The offence is going to need to do its share, as well. Only, are they able? Looking up and down the lineup, who's not hitting up to snuff? Ok, Vernon Wells, and possibly Orlando Hudson. It's tempting to say that Hinkse will get better, but the trend for his career is clear: down. And when Corey Koskie comes back, that can't hurt. But Shea Hillenbrand is due for his usual second-half fade and you've got to think Aaron Hill will slow down. And everyone else would seem to be at or near their expected levels of contribution. In other words, this is as good as it's likely to get, barring the unexpected acquisition of, say, Vladimir Guerrero.
Make no mistake: losing Halladay, even if he misses only seven starts, is a blow. He was not only on his way to the AL Cy Young, but he was also going to figure in the AL MVP voting, particularly if the Blue Jays turned it on and won the AL Wild Card. He's not as valuable to the Jays as Barry Bonds is to the Giants, but it's hard to find a player in the majors more valuable to his team than Halladay is to the Jays.
That said, I suspect the Jays will be fine, and when Halladay returns they will find themselves right around where they are now: on the cusp of contention . . . or not.
Which brings us right back to the beginning. The most important thing I learned about last night's game? You really can't learn much about a baseball game, its ancillary effects, and its future portents, from a boxscore.
