Back to School, Part 1 Bob's Backstop for August 30, 2005

A school somewhere in Baltimore County. “Mister Bryant” is written in cursive on the chalkboard at the front of the room. The room itself is abuzz with activity. A short, skinny boy dressed in an orange Orioles t-shirt is tossing spitballs at the clock, the gooey wads of paper finding their mark with a satisfying splat. A larger, barrel-chested boy with a Cheshire Cat grin cups his hand to a girl’s ear and whispers into it, only to be slapped when he leans back laughing at the completion of his story. All around the room, children are laughing and talking, except two. A dark-featured handsome little boy in the back of the room sits with his head back against the wall, his hands tucked under his thighs, wearing an expression of mild disgust. Two rows over from him, a tall girl sits up primly, looking around the room, efficiently scribbling into a loose-leaf notebook, a self-satisfied expression on her face.

  Suddenly, the door opens. In shambles a balding, middle-aged man with the slight pot-belly of a one-time athlete gone to seed. The children scramble for their seats as the man places books on the desk at the front of the room, glancing up at the clock as a droplet of spittle falls to the floor with an emphatic plop. The clock face is partially obscured by wads of hardening pulp. The man sighs, and turns to the class, clapping his hands as he addresses them.

  “Okay class, settle down, settle down. I know you’re all excited that we’re back at school, but it’s time to do some work. Before we get started, I’d like to know who is responsible for the condition of the clock?”

  The silence of the room is interrupted only by the shuffling of feet. Finally, the prim girl who had been writing in her notebook flings her hand confidently skyward.

  The teacher sighs. “Yes, Meg, what is it?”

  “I know who was throwing the spitballs, Mister Bryant.” An audible groan from the rest of the class is accompanied by a roll of the teacher’s eyes.

  “I’m sure you do, Meg.  You’ve probably got my name in your notebook, too.”

  “Only a couple of times. Anyway, if you don’t want to hear the name, I’m sure the principal -”

  “Okay, okay, let’s have it.”

  “It was Kerry again, Mister Bryant.”

  “Kerry. What a surprise. Is she correct, Kerry?”

  The slight boy nods.

  “Well, I see your aim really improved over the summer. Must have had a good season pitching, eh?”

  The boy’s expression transformed from sullen to excited. “Actually, I did –“

  The teacher holds up his hand. “I do want to hear all about it – after classes today, while you’re on the ladder cleaning off the clock.”

  The class giggles as Kerry’s face reddens.

  “But enough of that. It’s time to get to work, children. We’ve got a lot to talk about, so let’s get started. I hope you all reviewed the reading I gave you for assignment last night. Let’s see what sort of conclusions you’ve come to. Anyone want to share?”

  Hands shoot up all around the room.

  “Yes?”

“The new manager is an idiot!”

  “Okay, that’s one way of looking at it. Yes, Sparky?”

  “The bullpen stinks! How can the manager make the four or five moves per game he needs to if he can’t depend on the pen?”

  “Very good. George?”

  “The team needs a stopper, a top of the rotation guy! And they should spend any amount of money to get one…and if he doesn’t work out, get another one.”

  “We’ll look at that, sure. Yes, Billy?”

  “The starters are coddled. There’s no reason they can’t throw nine innings every time out.” He looks around the room, his fists clinched. “And anyone who disagrees with me, let’s meet in the boy’s room during recess, and I’ll straighten you out.”

  “All right, Billy, that’s enough of that. I have no real expectations of stopping your constant brawling, but I do hope you and Artie Fowler are going to manage to at least be sober during classes this year. At least you won’t be fighting with Reggie. he transferred to California.”

  “Reggie. That jerk. Every day at lunch we had to listen to how he was ‘the straw that stirred the milk’. And you don’t even GET a straw with your milk, Mister Bryant! And he was always handing out those candy bars that looked like a cowflop…”

  “I know, Billy, I know. It’s a tragedy. Anyone else? How about you, Lee?”

  All eyes turn to the dark-haired boy in the back of the room, who continues to stare forward, his hands tucked under his thighs.

  “Lee? Do you have an idea you can share with the class?”

  The boy’s eyes flick towards the teacher. “I’d rather not.”

  The teacher sighed. “I swear, Lee, I can’t figure you out. You had the best scores on the placement tests of anyone in this class, but you just sit there, day after day, after day. Don’t your hands go to sleep?”

  “I’d just rather not get involved.”

  “Okay, class. Anyone else?”

  The children look at each other, but no more hands are raised.

  “Okay, then. Certainly the ideas posed by you are not new ones, and they are shared by many. We’re going to start the year off by taking a look at some of the facets of the Orioles’ play and see what seems to be the trouble. This morning, we’re going to take a look at the Runs Created performance of this year’s team versus that of last year’s. If everyone will turn in their Big Bad Book of Baseball to page eighty-nine…

 "Okay. Now, here you'll see the Runs Created by last year's offense at this same time period a year ago. Let's see if we can pinpoint some of the differences between this year and last year's, shall we? Drops of over a half run are highlighted in red, improvements of the same margin in orange:

"The Orioles finished strong last year, playing an 18-10 September after a terrible slump in August. As you can see, Lopez, Tejada, and Surhoff provided constant offense during the month, while Gibbons, Bigbie, and Palmeiro got hot at the end. Melvin Mora and David Newhan's numbers dropped, but that was from such a stratosphere that they were both contributing.

"When you look at what has happened to date this year, it's not that hard to see what some of the problem has been. Last season, three amazing things happened. Melvin Mora was not only a good player, but a player who put up a number that placed him among the top five players in the AL. David Newhan came off the scrap heap to play blistering baseball for six weeks, and then still better-than-average outfield numbers after that. B.J. Surhoff defied his age and put together a quiet but very effective season, helping to offset injuries and ineffectiveness on the part of other Orioles. None of those things should have been expected to reoccur, and none of them did.

"Mora came the closest. At the All-Star Break, he was creating around 6.5 runs per game, not the magic number of a year ago, but still very high. When Brian Roberts was putting up numbers close to those of Mora a year ago (he was at 9.93 at the break), the overall effect there was a wash from last year's production at 2B-SS-3B. Add in Palmeiro's improved numbers and Lopez'/Fasano's drop, but still respectable numbers, and things looked pretty good. But then Mora hurt his shoulder, his hand, and his ankle, and he hasn't been the same player since. Roberts has, as expected, regressed, and Palmeiro's suspension for testing positive for steroids has left Tejada and Lopez to carry the ball, and although both are hitting, neither is on fire, and neither is hitting home runs, something this station-to-station lower-OBP team needs to score runs.

 "No one appeared from nowhere this season as Newhan did a year ago. Sal Fasano proved to be a better hitter than either of last year's backup catchers, but that is faint praise, indeed. The bench has been toothless all season, and Jay Gibbons has not parlayed a healthy season into anything hopeful. His isolated power looks decent, but if you can't get on base, you're slow, and you play bad defense, even at first base, you can't really be considered a real positive. Sammy Sosa's failure to break five runs a game was huge for this team...when he WAS at that level early in the year, the team was winning and scoring runs by the bushel basket, but once he began turning in numbers more in line with last year's RF production, things went south in a hurry.

"On average, the runs created numbers reflect about a half-run per game decline over last year's at the same time, and that's a significant number. It's hard to pinpoint it on one or two players. Mora would have been down at least two runs a game without the injuries, but Roberts will probably finish the year at least a run above his numbers of a year ago, if not a bit more than that. Lopez will not match last year's numbers in either quantity or quality, but his current output is respectable. Tejada is close to last year's numbers, though he'd be the first to bemoan his home runs totals dropping and his RBI production. Bigbig/Byrne, Hairston-Newhan/Matos, and Gibbons/Sosa is pretty much a wash, which is not a good thing considering the poor performance of 2004's outfield, and 2005's bench performance, with Surhoff's dropoff coupled with Gomez' superior play to that of Luis Lopez, is pretty much a wash, too.

"It appears that some of this is mental. Guys are trying too hard, expecting to fail, approaching the game all wrong, taking when they should swing, swinging when they should take. It's the nature of the beast when things go bad. The one thing we can hope for is a repeat of the finish of 2004. For all the rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth, if the O's repeated their 18-10 mark of a year ago this month, that would be an improvement over last year. And they looked as bad going into September last year as they do this year.

"I'm not suggesting that any of you children hold your breath in expectation, but anything is possible. Okay, that's it for today. Tomorrow, we'll take a look at the bullpen. Now it's time for recess. Play nice, children."