2022 MLB thread

[Helobious 9481]

Dirty

 

[Beau Vine 54004]

Rosenthal on an extremely cool gesture by Edwin Diaz:

Quote

Pirates closer David Bednar reacted as if he had not quite heard Braves bullpen coach Drew French correctly.

“Bednar, you’re in the game,” French said after the top of the eighth inning during Tuesday night’s All-Star Game at Dodger Stadium.

Bednar, a first-time All-Star at 27, pointed to himself in the National League bullpen, touching his chest, as if to say, “Me?”

It wasn’t that Bednar was unprepared; he had been ready to pitch the entire game. But after warming up in the fourth, only to sit back down, he thought his moment had passed.

It might have, if not for Edwin Díaz.

The Mets closer did not necessarily know every detail of Bednar’s story, how in 2016 the Padres had selected him out of Lafayette College in a round that no longer exists in the amateur draft, the 35th. How the Padres in Jan. 2021 had traded Bednar to the Pirates as part of a three-team deal that sent Joe Musgrove to San Diego. How Bednar, who grew up in Mars, Pa., about 25 miles north of Pittsburgh, had become a fan favorite while emerging as a stalwart for his hometown team.

Díaz, however, knew this much: He had pitched in an All-Star Game, in 2018 as a member of the Mariners, and Bednar had not. He kept pestering French, telling him Bednar could take his inning. Manager Brian Snitker’s original plan was for Díaz, one of the game’s most dominant relievers, to pitch the ninth if the NL led or the score was tied.

All-Star Games generally follow a script, with managers assigning pitchers specific innings. Managers and coaches always handle players with caution, striving to return them to their teams in the same condition as when they arrived, or better.

The Braves’ staff told the pitchers that starters would work the first five innings. Bednar did not have a set assignment; he expected to relieve another pitcher who got into trouble, clean up a “dirty” inning. That’s why he was warming up in the fourth, when the Dodgers’ Tony Gonsolin allowed back-to-back homers to Giancarlo Stanton and Byron Buxton. But Gonsolin eventually completed the inning, leaving Bednar in a troubling spot. The Braves staff had told the NL relievers prior to the game: If you warm up but don’t pitch, you’re done for the night.

The game moved into the later innings. The NL continued to trail, 3-2. Díaz, knowing Bednar would relish the experience of pitching on the All-Star stage, again told French, “I don’t have any problem if you want to pitch him.” He had expressed a similar sentiment to French and Braves pitching coach Rick Kranitz before the game, saying he was more than happy to give up his inning or split it with another pitcher to give someone else a chance.

Snitker, managing an All-Star Game for the first time, was struck by the unselfishness of Díaz and other veteran All-Stars. Albert Pujols was among those who told him: “I’ve done this before. Let the guys who haven’t been here play.” Snitker, mind you, was not about to deprive Pujols of an at-bat in his final All-Star Game. But the manager, after returning to Atlanta on Wednesday, said the willingness of veteran All-Stars to sacrifice playing time for first-timers, “was a really cool part of this whole thing.”

French joked that the Braves wanted Díaz to pitch, seeing as how he plays for the division rival Mets. But the entire NL bullpen, it seemed, had a soft spot for Bednar.

“Edwin was the ringleader of it. He really spearheaded the effort,” French said. “But once this was kind of going down, everyone started to get involved emotionally, wanting him to get out there, get him in the game.”

Part of French’s job as a bullpen coach is to monitor the intensity of relievers as they warm up. Watching Bednar in the fourth, he saw a pitcher working at only about 50 percent effort. Bednar said he threw only five or six pitches, “if that.” So, while he was mindful of the strict instructions from the Braves’ staff about usage, he wasn’t completely sure they applied to him.

“I was still holding out hope,” Bednar said.

After Gonsolin finished the fourth, French said there was some discussion among the staff about Bednar pitching the fifth. But Reds ace Luis Castillo had begun throwing at the same time as Bednar. As a starter, he needed more time to warm up. He could not sit back down. He needed to get into the game.

Bednar, it seemed, had lost his chance.

“He’s down and we’re not going to get him back up. We’re not going to use him again,” Kranitz told French on the bullpen phone.

“His effort level was pretty low,” French replied, referring to Bednar’s warmup.

“I don’t know him,” Kranitz responded. “I don’t want to do that to Pittsburgh. I don’t want to do that to their guy.”

French explained to Bednar he could try to talk to the dugout again, but in all likelihood Kranitz’s decision was final. The other pitchers in the NL bullpen, seeing what was happening, sympathized with Bednar. Only Díaz and Miles Mikolas had been All-Stars previously, but others also voiced their opinions.

“They were all kind of nudging me, ‘Go tell him you want to throw. Go tell him you want to throw,’” Bednar said. “I was saying, ‘Obviously, I want to throw, but it’s not really my place to make a stand, pound the table, force my way in there.’”

Díaz noted Bednar’s reluctance, saying he was “kind of afraid” to make his position clear. French picked up a similar vibe. “He was not necessarily afraid to talk to me, but he might have felt it was a little disrespectful to have that conversation,” French said.

So, Díaz continued lobbying, telling French he was fine throwing a bullpen to get his work in or even a lighter, touch-and-feel session. Díaz even took his case to Braves bullpen catcher José Yépez, who in turn went back to French.

“Look, Edwin really wants Bednar to have his inning. It’s his first All-Star Game. (No one knows) if he’s ever going to be back,” Yépez told French.

French was caught in the middle.

“I’m continuing to tell that to the dugout, but it’s going to be their call,” he told Yépez. “And they’re trying to do well by everyone who is down here.”

Castillo pitched the fifth, Joe Mantiply the sixth, Devin Williams the seventh. When the dugout called for Ryan Helsley to work the eighth, French made what he called “a last-ditch effort” on Bednar’s behalf, saying the reliever confirmed he would be good to go in the ninth, and repeating that the risk would be minimal because Bednar had barely exerted himself warming up earlier.

“OK,” Kranitz said. “I’m going to take it to ‘Snit’ and call you back.”

And with that, the NL’s initial blueprint began to fall apart.

Kranitz made Snitker aware that those remaining in the bullpen — Díaz, Mikolas, Tyler Anderson, plus the coaches —  were “ganging up” to get Bednar to pitch. Snitker reasoned that at 6-foot-1, 250 pounds, Bednar was a “big strong, kid” who could handle warming up a second time and then pitching an inning.

“We decided, ‘Screw it, man,’” Snitker said. “If we went ahead, he was going to close. I didn’t want to warm him up again and have him not pitch.”

Mikolas and Anderson were the only other NL pitchers left besides Díaz. Snitker and Kranitz did not want to use them. Díaz would have entered the game only if Bednar had gotten into trouble.

Of course, the NL never took the lead, but Bednar was coming in either way. French described him as “shocked” to finally learn he was going to pitch. Bednar said he was not completely surprised, but by that point his expectations were minimal.

“At the end of day, I just did not want to get caught off guard at all,” Bednar said. “Just in case there was a sliver of hope, I was going to stay locked in and ready to go.”

Bednar was not unfamiliar with the mound and atmosphere at Dodger Stadium, which is quite different than say, a Tuesday night at PNC Park. He had pitched at the stadium on May 30, blowing his first save of the season in the eighth inning but rebounding with a scoreless ninth to earn the win in a resounding 6-5 triumph for the Pirates.

His previous experience gave him comfort. As he took the mound Tuesday night, he was not especially nervous. He was just excited.

“I wanted to go out, just attack, let it rip, try and showcase my stuff, represent the Pirates and the city of Pittsburgh the best I could,” Bednar said.

His inning went almost perfectly. Groundouts by Corey Seager, Jose Trevino and J.D. Martinez, sandwiched around an eight-pitch walk to Santiago Espinal. The Guardians’ Emmanuel Clase struck out the side to close out the NL in the ninth. But to Bednar’s family, it was as if he, and not Clase, had earned the save.

Bednar’s fiancé, Casey Merritt, was in attendance, along with his parents, Andrew and Sue; his brother, Will, a right-handed starter who was the 14th-overall pick by the Giants in last year’s draft; and his sister, Danielle, a shortstop who is headed to St. Francis on a softball scholarship. A number of other relatives also made the trip.

“That made it even cooler, seeing all of their reactions after the game,” Bednar said. “I know I was beyond pumped. To see everybody else being that excited for me was even more special.”

Díaz knew the feeling. Just getting named an All-Star is an honor. Pitching in the game is even better. Díaz blew a save in the 2018 All-Star Game, allowing a two-run homer to Scooter Gennett. But he wound up the winning pitcher when the AL won, 8-6, in 10 innings.

“Everybody who goes to the All-Star Game for the first time wants to be part of the game,” Díaz said.

Thirty-seven first-time All-Stars were selected to this year’s game, and only four did not appear — Yordan Alvarez and Jazz Chisholm Jr. were injured, while Anderson and Jordan Romano went unused. Bednar, though, took perhaps the most unusual path to the field.  French, who also was participating in his first All-Star Game, said Wednesday he still had “chills” thinking about the way Díaz and the other NL pitchers rallied around the Pirates’ closer.

“It put the cherry on top of this whole experience,” French said. “These guys don’t know each other from Adam, for the most part. You see each other compete. You have mutual respect. But the way they emotionally connected for one or two days, that was something that I was really taken aback by.”

Bednar, for his part, will never forget Díaz’s gesture.

“It speaks volumes of who he is as a person and teammate,” Bednar said. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Perhaps in a future All-Star Game, Bednar will be in position to make the same accommodation for a teammate, and pay it all forward.

 

[Beau Vine 54004]

JoePos on Buck (grab a tissue first):

Quote

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — “Somebody,” Buck O’Neil said to me, as we sat over the remainders of lunch at the Peachtree restaurant on 18th and Vine, “somebody should write about the Negro leagues the way they really were.”

“Somebody,” he said to me, “should write about how much fun it was. How good we were. We could play, man!”

“Everybody,” he said, “talks about the bad stuff. And that’s all they want to talk about. We know about the bad stuff. We know about segregation. We know about hatred. We know the sad stories. But the Negro leagues weren’t sad. We were playing baseball. In fact, we were playing some of the best baseball that has ever been played.”

“Somebody,” he said, “should write about the way it really was.”

Buck kept saying “somebody.”

And I was the only one there.

That lunch, after too many stops and starts to count, led to me spending the summer of 2005 traveling the country with Buck. That led to the book The Soul of Baseball. That led to the incredible journey that has been my lucky life.

Even now — some 20 years later, as Buck O’Neil is inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame — I cannot tell you exactly why Buck chose me. I cannot tell you what he saw in me. I was a 30-something newspaper columnist in Kansas City, a new father, an author of exactly zero books, and, as Buck often reminded me, “a white boy.”

“What’s better, Gates or Arthur Bryant’s?” he once asked me about Kansas City’s two most famous barbecue brands.

“Bryant’s,” I said.

“Aw, what do you know? You’re just a white boy,” he said.

All I can say is that Buck, well, he was a natural scout. He scouted Lou Brock, Lee Smith and Joe Carter. I guess, he scouted me.

Lynn Novick met Buck O’Neil shortly after she started at Florentine Films, working with Ken Burns on “The Civil War” documentary. Ken and Lynn’s next project was to tell a different kind of baseball story — one that would show how the game’s history and American history intertwine and interweave and mirror each other. This meant telling the story of the Negro leagues as it had never been told before.

But how? Lynn was responsible for digging into the Negro leagues, and it wasn’t easy in those days. There were only a handful of books. Many of the greatest Negro leaguers — Paige, Gibson, Charleston, Cool Papa — were gone. Perhaps the most famous Negro leagues narrative was the movie “Bingo Long and the Traveling All-Stars,” a film Buck absolutely loathed. “It wasn’t like that,” he used to say, with a rare edge in his voice. “We were no minstrel show.”

Someone told Lynn that she might want to talk with Buck O’Neil. She’d never heard of Buck, but she called, and he seemed amenable, so she showed up at his door in Kansas City with a camera crew behind her. She had absolutely no expectations; she just hoped that he would have some interesting memories.

And what followed was an interview unlike any she has had in her entire life.

“It must have been hard playing in the Negro leagues,” she said to him at one point.

He looked at her with amusement.

“No, it wasn’t hard,” he said. “It was wonderful.”

It was wonderful. There was Buck O’Neil in three words. Lynn looked at him in astonishment. Buck was the grandson of enslaved people. He was not allowed to attend Sarasota High School. He was never given a chance to see if he was good enough to play in the major leagues — and he was good enough. He was never allowed to manage in the major leagues — and I have no doubt he would have been an extraordinary manager.

He drank from separate water fountains and was turned away from white hotels and was forced to eat in the kitchens of restaurants that would even allow him in. He saw crosses burned and children spit at and once walked into a crowd of white sheets when he confused a ballpark with a KKK rally.

“It was wonderful,” he said.

And he talked about all the wonderful things, the wonderful players, the wonderful games. He told her stories, incredible stories, about Satchel Paige, about Josh Gibson, about Cool Papa Bell. He told her about walking into the Streets Hotel in Kansas City or the Evans Hotel in Chicago or the Woodside Hotel in New York and being treated like a star, and running into Cab Calloway or Count Basie or Ella Fitzgerald.

He told her about the three times he heard a different crack of the bat.

The first time he heard the sound, he was a kid standing outside the fence during spring training in Sarasota, and he climbed a ladder, and looked, and saw a ballplayer with a barrel chest, skinny legs. That was Babe Ruth.

The second time he heard the sound, he was a ballplayer himself, 1938, playing for the Kansas City Monarchs, and he was in the clubhouse in Washington getting dressed, and as soon as he heard it, he raced on the field wearing whatever he happened to have on. That was Josh Gibson.

The third time he heard the sound, he was a scout at Royals Stadium, and a powerful force was taking a few batting practice swings, and the sound exploded again and again and again, every time he connected. That was Bo Jackson.

For Lynn, it was mesmerizing and awe-inspiring and thrilling. When “Baseball” came out, it had any number of eloquent characters, historians, musicians, some of the best ballplayers who ever lived. But all of them were supporting characters to John Jordan “Buck” O’Neil, who in his own distinctive way captured not only the spirit of the Negro leagues, but of baseball, too.

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After it came out, Buck’s life would change. For years, he had been largely ignored — people had learned that the story of African-American baseball had begun when Jackie Robinson crossed the line, and they weren’t interested in hearing any more. But after “Baseball,” people began listening to him. People began asking him to tell more stories. He wrote a book. He appeared on “Letterman.” He traveled the country.

Lynn Novick was with us in Cooperstown this weekend.

So was her son. His name is John Jordan.

Bob Kendrick grew up in a small town in Georgia called Crawfordville. He loved baseball — Henry Aaron was his hero — but basketball was his thing. He went to Park College in Kansas City on a basketball scholarship. Not long after, he began working in the promotions department at The Kansas City Star.

In 1994, he decided to volunteer and help out a group of people at the regally named “Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.”

It wasn’t a museum then. It was an office space. A few former ballplayers — Buck O'Neil prominent among them — were taking turns paying the rent. The very few Negro leagues artifacts they had were in a desk drawer. If someone would have walked in and asked, “Wait, where’s the museum?” the person in the office would have opened the drawer and said, “Your tour begins and ends here.”

But nobody was allowed into the office.

The first time Bob met Buck, he was mesmerized. Of course he was. They were different men, Bob and Buck, but with the same spirit inside. Buck had this big idea in mind — to build a real-life Negro Leagues Baseball Museum that people would visit to learn the story of Black baseball before Jackie Robinson.

And Bob had ideas. Big ideas. He signed on. He loved the story that much. He loved Buck that much.

Together, and with some other dreamers, they built the museum there on 18th and Vine, just around the corner from the Paseo YMCA, where Rube Foster himself had founded the Negro leagues.

Buck died in 2006. In the 16 years since, Bob — my friend, my brother — has become the living embodiment of Buck O’Neil. He carries around Buck’s kindness, his grace, his style (Buck was the sharpest dresser I ever knew; Bob isn’t far behind) and his devotion to telling the story.

As we walked around the Hall of Fame, a man walked up to Bob and said, “Mr. O’Neil, could you sign this baseball?” It was an awkward situation. But it wasn’t, because Bob put his hand on the man’s shoulder and said a few kind words about Buck and about the Negro leagues and about being so thankful for this weekend.

It was uncanny to me how much Bob sounded like Buck O’Neil.

I’ve never solved the mystery of how Buck O’Neil did it, how he vanquished his bitterness and kept his faith in people and saw the good in the world. I supposed that trying to figure that out is like trying to unravel the mystery of how Shakespeare wrote Othello, King Lear and Macbeth in quick succession, or how Dolly Parton wrote “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You” on the same night or how Barry Sanders found open field amid a mass of tacklers. It’s all but impossible to comprehend genius.

And Buck was a genius — a genius at optimism and hope and his faith in humanity.

“What a jerk,” I said about that guy at the Astros game who stole a ball from a kid.

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Buck said. “He might have a kid of his own at home.”

And I pondered that.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “If he has a kid of his own, why didn’t he bring the kid to the ballgame?”

Buck didn’t hesitate: “Maybe his kid is sick.”

And I knew I would never, ever beat Buck O’Neil at this game.

I’ve told the story many times about that day in 2006 when Buck O’Neil did not get into the Hall of Fame. Seventeen Negro leagues players and executives and contributors were elected. But Buck fell short. We were sitting in an office upstairs in the museum, and Bob walked in with a look of death on his face. “Buck,” he said, “we didn’t get enough votes.”

And Buck, quickly, instinctively, said, “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”

I have thought about that moment countless times over the last 16 years … and even more, I’ve thought about how, a few beats later, he asked me who would speak on behalf of the 17 who got in. I shrugged — in that moment, I felt so angry and discouraged that, shamefully, I didn’t care one bit about the 17 who got in, even though it was a monumental step forward in keeping alive the memory of the Negro leagues.

But I lost sight of that because of how sad and furious I was for my friend.

Buck — he just never lost sight of what matters.

“I wonder if they’ll ask me to speak,” he said.

“You’d do that?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “Think about this, son. What is my life about?”

That’s what I think about today. Buck’s life was about baseball. And his life was about heart. His life was about music and faith and having dessert after every meal. His life was about shooting his age in golf (which he did just about every age between 75 and 94) and getting on the airplane first and driving that big Cadillac he loves so much (Mercedes once gave him a car, but he couldn’t figure out how to turn it on).

If Buck saw a stranger, he would ask: “Do you remember your first baseball game?”

If Buck saw a kid with a glove, he would take the ball and tell them to run out a ways so he could throw it to them.

If Buck saw a person with an interesting dish in a restaurant, he would say: “What’s that? That looks really good. I might have to get that.”

Buck’s life was about hugs and nicknames (he called our oldest daughter “Sunshine” and our youngest “New One”) and checking out young ballplayers to see if they had what it takes. Buck’s life was about telling Satchel Paige stories, so many Satchel Paige stories …

One time, Satchel was pitching against a white all-star team, and a big lug of guy stepped to the plate, and on the first pitch hit a titanic home fun over the leftfield wall.

“Nancy!” Satchel yelled at Buck — he called Buck “Nancy” for a reason you probably know — “Nancy, come here!”

Buck walked over. Satchel leaned his head toward the guy running around the bases.

“Who dat?” Satchel asked.

Buck shook his head. “Satchel,” he said. “That’s Ralph Kiner. He’s led the National League in home runs the last two or three years.”

“OK,” Satchel said. “Nancy, next time he comes up, you tell me.”

The next time Kiner came up, Satchel Paige struck him out on three pitches.

More than anything, though, Buck’s life was about keeping a memory alive. He spoke in Cooperstown 16 years ago on behalf of the 17.

“People always say to me, ‘Buck, I know you hate people for what they did to you or what they did to your folks,’” he told the crowd that day. “I said, ‘No, man. I never learned to hate.’ I hate cancer. Cancer killed my mother. My wife died 10 years ago of cancer (I’m single, ladies!). I hate AIDS. A good friend of mine died of AIDS three months ago.

“But I can’t hate a human being, because my God never made anything ugly. Now, you can be ugly if you want to, boy. But God didn’t make you that way.”

And then he asked everybody to hold hands. And they did. He asked everybody if they could sing. “Sing after me,” he said. And they sang after him:

The greatest thing/in all my life/is loving you
The greatest thing/in all my life/is loving you
The greatest thing/in all my life/is loving you
The greatest thing/in all my life/is loving you

It was beautiful. It was larger than baseball, more than words, it was pure love on display. See, that’s what Buck’s life was really about. Love.

“Thank you,” Buck finished, and then his last words on the public stage. “I could talk to you for 10 minutes longer. But I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

 

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

Tampa is melting down in bot 5 against Balt. 

[VirginiaLonghorn 4750]

[WBT 20422]

3-run homer in the bottom of the 8th and the Phillies beat the Braves 6-4

[Beau Vine 54004]

[Beau Vine 54004]

And this is probably only funny because I'm high af but imma post anyways:

[Felix 599]

Like a dog when you come in his yard.

[shadow_operative 15932]

On 7/25/2022 at 9:30 AM, Helobious said:

Dirty

 

that was awesome, but middle infielders do that in their sleep. i saw some random LF for the pirates make a better play just yesterday. 

[shadow_operative 15932]

14 hours ago, Beau Vine said:

 

lol, this is the catch i was just talking about. 

[huge 3788]

3 hours ago, shadow_operative said:

that was awesome, but middle infielders do that in their sleep. i saw some random LF for the pirates make a better play just yesterday. 

Dude... plays that slick and unusual rarely come along and YOU OF ALL PEOPLE should enjoy the swag-showmanship of it.

[shadow_operative 15932]

2 minutes ago, huge said:

Dude... plays that slick and unusual rarely come along and YOU OF ALL PEOPLE should enjoy the swag-showmanship of it.

well i definitely enjoyed the swag and showmanship.

[huge 3788]

3 minutes ago, shadow_operative said:

well i definitely enjoyed the swag and showmanship.

I rest my case.

[ztejas 43266]

There was a behind the back flip for a DP in the ASG. I'm not sure it's THAT rare. 

[tx 3 putt 76403]

snake bit !

[Helobious 9481]

Judge’s homer that last AB in Houston snapped him out of that month long slump very bigly, he’s on a tear. He just cranked one out at Citi Field in the 1st, #38 on the year.

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

3 homers in 4 outs now for both teams. On TBS. 

[Scraps 13542]

snake bit !

Hispanic Titanic shoulder watch

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

Make that 4 homers in 5 outs. 

[Scraps 13542]

Speaking of on a tear....pretty sure Austin Riley has been going balls deep on the NL

I believe he is on a 19 game hit streak now and has 32 total hits in those games and counting

[TheStoicPaisano 9904]

 

[Scraps 13542]

Damn....no secret Vogel is fat, but pinstripes do not help. He looks like he already put on 30 more lbs eating NY pizza

[ztejas 43266]

Has Chapman moved to middle relief? 

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

Pretty much. 

 

Interesting attempt there, Rizzo. 

[VirginiaLonghorn 4750]

[WBT 20422]

2 hours ago, shadow_operative2.0 said:

3 homers in 4 outs now for both teams. On TBS. 

Costas is all verklempt about a possible subway series 

[ztejas 43266]

I'm seeing some Orioles up and Orioles down. I feel that this is more accurate. 

[Dr Fear 1265]

Gallo PH against Diaz with predictable results.

[ztejas 43266]

Mets looking to drive this one home. 

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

That was a REAL shitty PH AB by Vogey. 

[VirginiaLonghorn 4750]

34 minutes ago, ztejas said:

I'm seeing some Orioles up and Orioles down. I feel that this is more accurate. 

… new assholes occupying the AL East cellar.

[InkaUtexas 25523]

I love how everyone is like WTF man. 

 

[Beau Vine 54004]

More in Rodon news:

 

[Scraps 13542]

Don't forget this one

[Helobious 9481]

 

[Beau Vine 54004]

jeez, Mike Pagliarulo is 62 years old.

[VirginiaLonghorn 4750]

Should Nationals posts be in the major league thread?  LAD has posted a half dozen on Patrick Corbin in the first inning … reliever coming in.  I told you the Senators are reborn …

[shadow_operative2.0 15835]

Sounds promising. 

Quote

Los Angeles Angels star Mike Trout is dealing with a "rare condition" in his back that he likely will have to manage "through the rest of his career," according to head athletic trainer Mike Frostad.

Trout was placed on the injured list on July 18 with rib cage inflammation, which is creating pain in his back, but the Angels initially expected the three-time MVP to return quickly.

Frostad told reporters, however, that the Angels now are concerned because Trout has been diagnosed with a costovertebral dysfunction at his T5 vertebrae.

"This is a pretty rare condition that he has right now in his back," Frostad said Wednesday. "The doctor [Robert Watkins III], who is one of the most well-known spine surgeons in the country -- if not the world, doesn't see a lot of these.

"And for it to happen in a baseball player -- we just have to take into consideration what he puts himself through with hitting, swinging on a daily basis just to get prepared, and then also playing in the outfield, diving for balls, jumping into the wall -- things like that. There's so many things that can aggravate it. But this doctor hasn't seen a lot of it."

Trout, 30, had a cortisone injection in his back last week and had not resumed baseball activities as of Wednesday, according to Frostad, who said the 10-time All-Star is "upbeat" but acknowledged the possibility of a long-term condition.

"I think he's starting to feel like he's getting the benefits," Frostad said. "But long term, we do have to look at this as something that -- he has to manage it, not just through the rest of this season, but also through the rest of his career, probably."

Trout is scheduled for a follow-up appointment with Watkins next week, and Frostad said the Angels have not yet reached the point where they must decide whether to shut him down for the rest of the season.

[ztejas 43266]

He's had a weird career. 

[Beau Vine 54004]

Edited July 27, 2022 by Beau Vine

[ztejas 43266]

Maybe sit on a couple, Javi. 

[Helobious 9481]

14 minutes ago, ztejas said:

He's had a weird career. 

One of the best to ever do it statistically. But never had that “star” factor to him like Griffey or A-Rod or Bonds. Did absolutely nothing ever to promote himself or the game. Also may finish his career having never won a playoff game. Not series, game. 

[Vic Mackey 46936]

One of the best to ever do it statistically. But never had that “star” factor to him like Griffey or A-Rod or Bonds. Did absolutely nothing ever to promote himself or the game. Also may finish his career having never won a playoff game. Not series, game. 

His presence on the team means nothing either. This is why he's not most valuable at all. His value is his own statistical meaning. That's not really valuable except to himself. He loves it in LA. Absolutely no pressure at all. The blame is always someone else's. He has it made.

And yep. He has one single playoff series appearance where he was swept.

[shadow_operative 15932]

the wnba gets better promotion than baseball. baseball sucks at promoting it's game and it's stars, which is just insane when comparing it to how important baseball was to America during the 20th century. 

[Hank Chinaski 6310]

28 minutes ago, Vic Mackey said:

His presence on the team means nothing either. This is why he's not most valuable at all. His value is his own statistical meaning. That's not really valuable except to himself. He loves it in LA. Absolutely no pressure at all. The blame is always someone else's. He has it made.

And yep. He has one single playoff series appearance where he was swept.

I don’t understand this point. He can only add value through his hitting, his fielding and his base running. That’s all any player (non-pitcher) can do. He’s added a ton of value in his career - more than any other player in MLB since his career started. The statistics just describe the value. 

[Beau Vine 54004]

1 minute ago, Hank Chinaski said:

I don’t understand this point. He can only add value through his hitting, his fielding and his base running. That’s all any player (non-pitcher) can do. He’s added a ton of value in his career - more than any other player in MLB since his career started. The statistics just describe the value. 

Dude, put him on ignore, like most people in this forum have.

[Sbbruin 21738]

His presence on the team means nothing either. This is why he's not most valuable at all. His value is his own statistical meaning. That's not really valuable except to himself. He loves it in LA. Absolutely no pressure at all. The blame is always someone else's. He has it made.

And yep. He has one single playoff series appearance where he was swept.

Baseball is not like other sports. You can't put the onus on him for the Angels ineptitude. He's the best player of his generation, and there's really not a close second.

[TheStoicPaisano 9904]

Major tootblan.

 

[ztejas 43266]

27 minutes ago, Sbbruin said:

He's the best player of his generation, and there's really not a close second.

Well... there's a guy on his team that may wind up with a decent argument there.