Fearless predictions

All day I kicked around the idea of pegging an actual prediction on the Reds, beyond my lukewarm endorsement below. They are better this year, but there are better teams in the their division. But two things nagged at me all day.

First, no one seems to think that the Reds will improve in any aspect of the game. Everyone thinks that the Brewers and Pirates will improve, but not the Reds. That's unfair and short-sighted.

Second, every team in the NL Central has some serious questions to answer. Take the Cardinals. Will Scott Rolen's shoulder be able to keep his arm attached to his body for an entire season? How much will they miss Matt Morris? Can they mash on the ball like they have been if Jim Edmonds has to rest every other day to soak his joints? Now I would not put it past Tony LaRussa to pull a rabbit out of his hat (Abraham Nunez, anyone?), but these are serious questions.

Of the other three teams universally predicted to finish above the Reds, ALL have serious (but varied) starting pitching problems. Can the Astros make a go without Clemens? What do the Brewers do without Ben Sheets? What do the Cubs do without Wood AND Prior?

So, time for that fearless prediction I promised.

Cincinnati Reds: THIRD PLACE, National League Central.

That's right. THIRD. Here's why.

The pitching will be better. Harang and Claussen, with decent years last year under their belts, should be improved. Arroyo can be relied upon if nothing else to pitch six or seven innings every fifth day. The bullpen, even sans closer, will not be the sieve we've seen in recent years, stocked with kids who should be in AAA.

The defense will be better. Except perhaps for Encarnacion. Scott Hatteberg, whatever one thinks about his hitting, is better at first than Adam Dunn.

We know they can hit.

The wheels will fall off someone else's wagon. There are too many teams "ahead" of the Reds with nagging questions. Somebody is going to collapse. I hope it's Houston, but it's more likely to be the Brewers or the Cubs.

The Reds will be close at the All-Star break. They always are...well, maybe not to the break, but at least through May and part of June. Then they collapse. If they can buck that trend, Castellini and Krivsky will go get that stopper they need at the front of the rotation.

How's that for a baseball version of a Rube Goldberg machine?

Resolution Update, Part 3

March clocks in at 25,221 words, or 814 per day. This tops the previous two months' average of 804. For the year, I have 72,659 words (807 per day) towards my goal of 182,500 (500 per day). At this rate, I'll reach 182,500 on August 14th. I am quite pleased with my progress: nearly 40% of the way toward my goal through only about 25% of the year. (Lera says what she has read is good. Fred is also pleased, and he's contributing almost too much for me to squeeze in.)

Foul Weather Fans

Sports Illustrated picks the Reds for last place in the NL Central.

The Washington Post says fifth.

The Sporting News says last, too.

But by and large, the most negativity about the Reds tends to come from Reds fans themselves. These types fall into two categories: those who hate everything about a team that can't win, and those who think, to borrow from Anna Russell, things would be much different if they were not as they are.

For some examples, check out Marc Lancaster's blog. Marc is the Reds beat writer for the Cincinnati Post. He has done a great job feeding fans up-to-the-minute information and insight on spring training. Of course, being a blog, it comes with a comments section. And comments are overwhelmingly negative. About everything. Part of that comes from the fact that content people don't often feel need to vent their contentedness to the world. The other part comes from fans who "love too much," I suppose. If you like a team so much that you have to hate everything that doesn't go to plan, you probably need some help. Or a big margarita.

On the other hand, there are the fans who think everything could be solved if the Reds' GM Wayne Krivsky would just have traded Wily Mo Pena to the A's for Barry Zito and Frank Thomas. Why not? The Reds would fill two obvious needs, #1 starter and power-hitting first baseman (assuming Thomas even qualifies as a first baseman anymore), and get rid of their outfield logjam. What's not to like? I mean, a move like that might even get Billy Beane fired, and maybe we could get him to sell hot dogs in the bleachers. Wouldn't that be great?

As for me, I think the Reds will be much better than everyone thinks. They will not make the playoffs. But there are decidedly fewer "ifs" going into this season than in seasons past. Harang and Claussen should do well. Arroyo is not Roger Clemens, but he's not Jimmy Haynes, either. The offense could be terrifying--even more so than last year. And, except for second base, everyone has a position this year. Dunn, Griffey (healthy and hitting the ball like he's swinging an oar and pitchers are lobbing him beach balls) and Kearns in the outfield for sure, Lopez for sure at short, Encarnacion at third, LaRue/Valentin behind the plate. The bullpen is stacked with known commodities in Mercker, White, Weathers and Hammond.

The Reds may fare no better than fifth in the division, perhaps the most competitive in baseball after the AL East (peerless Cardinals, experienced Astros, improved but disabled Cubs, surging Brewers, better Pirates), but a record better than .500 is doable.

(Having said this of course, the team will begin the season 0-13 and never recover. They'll trade Dunn and Griffey for three A-ball pitchers and two fungo bats.)

Writerly Infanticide

From Hal Duncan's 10 Things About Writing:

5. Learn to kill your darlings. But torture them first. And after you've killed them, strip the meat from their bones, take them apart and build them into one motherfucking huge serial-killer-style shrine. Alternatively, put them back together and reflesh them with muscle and sinew sliced from your own naked body (or neighbourhood pets) and vat-grown in your underground laboratory; raise them from the dead as a glorious army of skeletal warriors, unquestioning servants in your plan for world domination.

I laughed so hard people looked to see what was wrong with me.

Quid pro quo

Between the ages of 9 and 14 (and again from about 22 to 24), I was obsessively enamored of baseball cards. During the first stage of my mania, I wanted all of the "hot" cards. When the 1989 Fleer Billy Ripken featured a posed photo of the Orioles' second baseman holding a bat with a profanity written in marker on the knob of the handle, I wanted it--partly for the shock value and partly because Fleer went to great lengths to eliminate the cards, thereby driving up its value. But on a more mundane level, I wanted the cards of all the best players, and when I traded with friends, we went strictly by the book: you had to trade for exactly what Beckett Baseball Card monthly said the cards in question were worth. No more, no less.

In the latter stage of my mania, I just wanted Barry Larkin cards. I assembled quite a collection, but only because I was willing to trade away higher-valued cards of "better" players for the opportunity to get my hands on a Larkin card I did not own. I would pay a premium in the trade because the opportunity to have something I did not was too dear.

This, I would contend, is exactly what the Reds have done in trading Wily Mo Pena for Bronson Arroyo. Potentially, Pena is a rainmaker on the order of David Ortiz. For now though, the opportunity to acquire something the Reds did not have--a reliable, inning-eating starting pitcher with experience--outweighs any potential Pena has, especially given that the Reds have a glut of outfielders with plenty of pop and dubious defense. Pena's inability to hit breaking pitches or field any position with competence at this stage of his career is beside the point.

Baseball: The Statistician's Dream

I love baseball, and I am a baseball-statistics nut. But there are people even nuttier--and much, much smarter--on this front than me, people like J. I've been checking out J's blog this past week, and he has done some great original statistical analysis. His most recent effort--in two parts, here and here--is an attempt to quantify fan interest as a measure of the relationship between attendance and wins. It's great stuff.

Now reading: The Eyre Affair, Jasper Fforde; Misquoting Jesus, Bart Ehrman; Black Juice, Margo Lanagan.

Thank God for the WBC...

because I have absolutely no reason to watch the NCAA tournament. UofL collapsed at season's end, and I can't justify the time to follow the tournament just to cheer for whoever is playing Duke.

At least we have the World Baseball Classic. I even sat up in the middle of the night and watched Mexico vs. Korea. This is great.

And one other thing: I just wanted to thank Fred for all the help he's been giving me recently. Some of you know Fred--some of you live with Fred. Anyway...thanks, Fred.

Now reading: Prince of Darkness, Sharon Kay Penman

Thoughts on The Carpet Makers

New books often excite me about cultures, disciplines and ideas that were unfamiliar to me. I usually react to such discoveries with zeal, finding whatever resources I can both online and in the library (I read every meaningful web site and encyclopedia of heraldry after first reading George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones).

It seems that my latest reading will require me to learn German.

The Carpet Makers, translated into English from Andreas Eschbach’s German original, is a unique book—and one that cries out to me for more of Eschbach’s work, none of which is available in English. As Orson Scott Card points out in the foreword, this is a travesty.

Eschbach has written novel of digestable length with a story on an epic scale. His interwoven vignettes are linked tightly enough to move the story forward while giving the reader insight on more than one corner of his universe. He explores numerous ideas with fluency and insight—none of which seemed to break down in the translation.

There are some weaknesses. I felt like the end was rushed and broke the steady pacing of the book, and not all of the stories fit congruously with the whole. But all together, the story’s prismatic look at power and its uses on scales both vast and minute makes this a great read.

Highly recommended: GOOD ENOUGH TO BUY

Now reading: Harrowing the Dragon, Patricia McKillip

They got me

I'm hooked on the World Baseball Classic. Thanks to the wonder of modern technology, TiVo, I was able to watch the U.S. vs. Mexico (which started while I was at work) before I went to bed. Not a great game, but the atmosphere was electric and competitive--not at all like the pseudo-competition of an All-Star Game or some sort of international tour. The bits I saw of the DR vs. Venezuela looked even more captivating. This should be great.

And while I on the subject of baseball, let's get the whole Barry Bonds thing out of the way. Disclaimer: I don't like Barry Bonds. I didn't like Barry Bonds when he played for the Pirates, just as I didn't like Bobby Bonilla or John Smiley. But he could hit. And throw. And run. He was great. But he pissed it away.

ESPN's Gene Wojciechowski put it best:

The tragedy of it all is that Bonds didn't need the alleged chemical boost. His legacy was secure. His Hall of Fame plaque was a done deal. It didn't matter if we thought he was a jerk because his statistics were so overpowering. No longer.

I don't think any of them should be in the Hall of Fame. Bonds, Sosa, Palmeiro--not even McGwire, by whom I was as taken as anyone in 1998. Lera and I missed his 62nd-home-run game by a day, going to see the Reds play the Cardinals in Cincinnati the day after he broke Maris' record. I will always remember that. But I was duped: he was (in all likeliness) doped.

UPDATE: Read Hal McCoy's broadside on Barry Bonds.

Random sports blogging

Everyone is rightly saddened by the death of Kirby Puckett. Damn. But thinking of Puckett also begs this demand of the baseball gods:

Why is Jack Morris NOT in the Hall of Fame?

Also, I am not hopeful for Louisville against Pittsburgh. The Cards were impressive against Connecticut--even Jim Calhoun agreed that few teams could have withstood their performance--but Pittsburgh manhandled them in January, and now the Cards don't have David Padgett. NIT here we come.

Finally, will the real Eric Milton please stand up? Oh, wait: he can't. His legs are too weak. No, it's a calf strain. That's not it: it's that he's ducking under all of the line drives batters are getting because HE CAN'T KEEP THE BALL DOWN.

Now playing: Rachmaninoff, Symphony No. 2, Orchestre de Paris, Semyon Bychkov. The very best.
Now reading: The Carpet Makers. Almost finished. Man, what a great book.

Random Oscar Thoughts

1. Philip Seymour Hoffman has come a long way from the deranged tornado chaser in Twister.
2. Matt Dillon and Bruce Campbell: separated at birth?
3. Why is Heath Ledger trying to look like Errol Flynn?
4. Oscars are not funny. Exhibit 1: Jon Stewart. 2: Ben Stiller. 3: David Letterman.
5. Samuel L. Jackson's films that influenced America included To Kill A Mockingbird and Schindler's List. The montage that followed this proclamation included scenes from The Day After Tomorrow. Umm... no.
6. Winners should be allowed to thank ONE person. That way the overwrought gratitude might seem genuine.
7. Holocaust jokes aren't funny. Ever. See #4.
8. Who writes what the presenters read? Does it have to sound like the same boilerplate every year?
9. At least Lauren Bacall came off as old, not crazy like Elizabeth Taylor did at the Golden Globes several years ago.

Damning with faint praise

The venerable Gray Lady has revamped its science fiction column, handing the reins to Daniel Itzkoff.

If you're saying "who?" you're not alone.

It seems that the best that The New York Times can do for science fiction--and genre fiction in general--is to pat it on the head occasionally (check out Itzkoff's list of his ten favorite science fiction novels) while keeping it in its place with comments like "why does science fiction have to be so geeky?"

Gosh, I don't know. Why does The New York Times have to be so insufferably pretentious (as in this article about George R. R. Martin--which is, because it's the NYT, available online for a fee)?

UPDATE: Check out Lucius Sorrentino's letter to Locus Online about Itzkoff; take particular note of how Sorrentino demonstrates that Itzkoff is not just a poor choice to write a science fiction column, but a poor choice to review books.

UPDATE 2: See Locus Online for the roadmap to Itzkoff bashing.

Foggy hits bottom

No more Foggy Bottom beer for DC. The company's owner says he has lost money for 20 years and could not ever build the brand cache necessary to sustain a meaningful share of the DC regional market. As the article points out, Heurich is somewhat bitter, but he makes an interesting point.

"'The Washington area is unique among major urban centers in its relative lack of a hometown spirit,' he wrote, 'and as a native Washingtonian, this is something that is deeply and personally disappointing.'"

I think this is probably true, but I don't think it's the consequence of the apathy of DC-area residents for hometown establishments or products. I think it's the consequence of having emigres as an enormous part of the DC populus. With all of the government work that goes on here, from the military to IT companies to lobbyists to trade organizations to contractors to media firms, DC is one of the few places I've lived where I know more people who grew up elsewhere than grew up locally.

Still, it doesn't bode well for anyone who loves local and regional products that these institutions (like Ski, Sundrop and Cheerwine) are waning everywhere as people everywhere become increasingly mobile and migratory.

Now playing: "My Funny Valentine," J.J. Johnson

They're called FREE throws for a reason

Disclaimer: I hate Duke. I grew up in Kentucky. Enough said.

But I have two things to say about Florida State's victory over Coach K last night. First, YES! Second, whatever you think about how Redick played (he scored 30 points: what more do you want?) or how Coach K pulled his team from the melee before time had officially expired or how Florida State got to shoot more than twice as many free throws, ANY team that hits 32 of 40 free throws is going to win--and deserves to win. They scored 15 more points from the free-throw line than Duke had free-throw attempts. Bad officiating or not, Florida State executed in a key--but ALL TOO OFTEN neglected--facet of basketball. They're not called hard throws.

Even more proof

And, adding to Monday's post, women can also play circles around you on tuba. (That is beyond cool.) You'll not be warned again.