Under Cover of Night

image courtesy of There Will Be Bourbon

There is little doubt in my mind that the Jays sweep in Seattle might have saved the season. Our perspective of the season, that is. If they laid an egg after a three-day gestation period in the Eastern Time Zone, the knives are out to a much greater degree than today.

Let there be no doubt, going down in such a timid manner at the hands of the Mariners is bad news for 2014 chances. But it's hard to maintain radio call-in ire when you're drifting off to sleep during the fifth inning. There's a certain kind of malaise that sets in when the team is reeling and playing late at night here on Earth, the gentle caress of "what great travelling support from West Coast Jays fans!" soothing your troubled soul. A nation united makes for more pleasant dreams than burning angst directed towards Juan Francsico.

Plus, when R.A. Dickey gives up two runs in the first inning, it feels like the game is already over. You're fast asleep before you realize how right you were, blissfully unaware of the five dece innings that followed.

It adds up to a whole lot of air let out of the Jays balloon. The circumstances allow it to leak out slowly and silently, rather than a whoopee cushion effect when they fall flat under the CN Tower's long shadow.

Never forget your first

The next time Travis Snider steps onto the field for big league action, it will mark the 500th game of his career. Of those 500 games, more came wearing the uniform of the Pittsburgh Pirates than the Toronto Blue Jays.

Travis Snider was the first prospect I followed closely. His shooting star was the first weighed down by the hopes and expectations of the blog generation, as the rise of Jays-specific sites coincided with his meteoric ascent through the minor leagues.

And though Snider got his name on more scoresheets in the National League, he actually played more with the Jays (917 PAs with Toronto compared to 642 with the Bucs.) As a top prospect, the Jays gave him every opportunity to fail. He was the high school batter destined to challenge for MVPs and hit in the heart of the order for years to come.

The Player Haters Guide To The Second AL Wild Card Spot

It's August and the Toronto Blue Jays are sitting in a playoff spot.

Pinch yourselves, folks.

We're less than a month away from Meaningful September Baseball (tm), and with 47 games left on the calendar the Jays and their fans find themselves in the unfamiliar spot of fending off teams with designs on sneaking into the one-game crapshoot.

There's an important step that needs to be taken from going to fans of an also-ran to fans of a serious playoff contender. That step is hate. Hate, hate, hate.

To help guide you through the next month and a half of pure seething hatred towards the rest of the sopping garbage juice that is the other AL Wild Card hopefuls, here is a handy guide to properly hating the other five contenders.

Timing is everything

It is not yet August so it is not yet a pennant race, but the Toronto Blue Jays are in a situation they haven't been for a long time - they matter. Their games matter, dripping with primordial playoff implications as they do. Given the AL East warzone, these future implications are more than just tiny glimmers of hope reflecting off the brass ring that is the second Wild Card game.

For the first time in a long time, people are very excited about homegrown talent that contributes to Toronto Blue Jays playoff positioning. People are excitedly watching on TV in record numbers. People are excitedly watching the scoreboards, cursing opponents of the Yankees and Orioles for seeming incapable of scoring runs or protecting leads. People are excited.

This

This is a GO Train, Ontario's regional commuter train. I spend in excess of three hours per day traveling by GO Train.

This kid lives at my house. This is a picture of her eating a hot dog in front of the Rogers Centre. She is now old enough to attend baseball games and tell elaborate lies and take ballet classes and ask interesting questions during walks in the woods.

She has a younger sister, still in the "wriggly loaf of bread" stage of life. Despite my best efforts, they both require constant care and attention. They refuse to do their own laundry and undercook the chana masala every single time.

They're pretty great.


This is what I do for work, some of the time. Most of the time I do this. Spoiler alert: I'm very lucky.

This isn't easy.

This wouldn't have been possible without the help of many, many people. If they don't already know who they are, I'll spend the rest of my life attempting to rectify that.

This is the final Ghostrunner on First post.

Thanks, friends.

Drew

Love, Actually.

Surely it can't be gone already.

The last home game of the season always feels like getting dumped by a girl who was out of my league. Yeah, I knew it was coming, but I had so many things left planned to do. We were supposed to go to a museum, pack a picnic by the lake, or maybe have dinner with my Dad. Now I'm just left with some old pictures and dozens of words that were entirely contextual to how I was feeling at the moment I wrote them and no longer hold weight in the present.

I was supposed to make it to more home games. I was supposed to take stronger advantage of being invited to write here. I was supposed to pick apart every pitch thrown to every player and take joy in the little moments that make up the season. Instead, I feel like I never even saw Travis Snider this year. I feel like I took for granted all the times the game was just on in the background while I was doing something more important (what could be more important?) like feeling sorry for myself or texting obscure rap lyrics to my friends. It doesn't matter, really, because it's over now. The putting off of worrying about what was happening because "There's another game tomorrow" is gone. They're gone again and I am left to my own devices for fighting off insanity for another 5 months. I am alone. Again.

Summer is dead and as any Game of Thrones watcher knows: Winter is coming. Yeah, we'll hear from them again a couple times in the next few months, but it will be short bursts. Internet reports, radio clips, or some fumbling predictions and analysis of the action or inaction of the off-season. But we all know nothing will compare. Nothing can touch the warming glow of the gentle buzz the Jays provide through my TV or the swell of sound as the wave passes through my section live in person at the Skydome.

Perhaps it is the decade and a half of middle of the pack results that have filled me with such apathy, but those who complain about the quality of the team always confuse me. I, for some reason, do not need this team to win to fill the void. Making a deep run in the playoffs would surely bring a lot of excitement to people I know, but for me, personally, it's most attractive feature would be having another 2 or 3 or 4 weeks without having to say goodbye. I simply need them to exist. I need them on my screen showcasing their talents or filling the content of my favourite websites to inspire my favourite writers. A quality team that plays quality baseball is secondary to just knowing they're around.  Knowing they exist. Knowing I can see them whenever I want. And, again, that feeling is gone.

So good-bye again, you heroes of my summer. I will miss you until we meet again next April, when we see each other across the street an unseasonably warm spring day and run into each others arms like we'd never been apart in the first place.

Goodbye. Goodbye. A thousand times, goodbye.

Depth

I've been away for far too long to pretend I'm an authority on the Jays so this post is a much more interactive one.

Albert or Prince? Move Reyes to 2nd! TRADE FOR VOTTO!! Blue Jays fans love them some big name acquisitions. And hey, sometimes I do too. But when Rasmus went down with a wrist injury and AA had to (chose to?) re-acquire DeWayne Wise my mind wandered from ballplayers with a WAR of around 8 or 9 to those closer to 0. Can the We're Finally Going For It Blue Jays of 2012 handle the injuries that hit every team in a 162 game season? Or better yet, do they have the depth to replace a regular contributor putting up Aaron Hill type numbers throughout the season?

What I'm asking is this; who do you see as being the backup plans for the Jays next season (being realistic) when the inevitable happens?

First let's get this out of the way; we all love the Prime Minister of Standing Ovations. There. Now let's be a little more open.

Does the guy who comes in 2nd in the competition for Left Field automatically get a bench job? Is anyone interested in copying the Rays and only allowing Shortstops who can play every single position on their team?

Please. I need you to reassure me that if someone goes down with an injury that DeWayne Wise won't be flown in from Japan next season.

Asides:

- I want everyone who has watched Kyle Drabek come out of the bullpen at the end of this year and thought, even for a second, that the Jays should convert him to a reliever to put up their hand. Now, on behalf of Drew's new born baby I'd like to say you're an idiot. The Jays need to make sure he's not capable of being a 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th starter before they even let that thought creep into their heads. But he will be a starter so don't worry about it.

- There are already multiple Brett Lawrie tribute videos on youtube. But somehow none of them have him mashing over an Eminem track. What's the point then, you know?

- Could Aaron Cibia be more excited about where this night is going to go?

- Finally, the fact that Colby Rasmus was able to answer this question without laughing out loud makes him a better person (liar?) than I'll ever be.

Dave Burrows is the West Coast contributor to GROF. He is able to bring a different angle to the site because he can stay up later. Follow him on twitter.

McGowan Analysis

As per a request in the previous post's comment section, allow me to schill for my corporate masters/day job and direct your attention to the pitch f/x post I wrote today on Dustin McGowan. With a little Stephen Strasburg thrown in for good measure, you can get all your nerdiness in one sweet place.

Please to enjoy my Getting Blanked post from this morning. Don't be afraid to post comments both here and there as I need them to live.

Nope

The 2011 Blue Jays season hasn't been bad. Not by a long shot. The cursory 80-odd wins and fourth place finish are seemingly in place and I don't harbor much ill will over it.

There is, however, only so much a man can take. The disappointment seethes below the surface, generally spewing out in the direction of the American League Central or the poor Baltimore Orioles. Not often do I lash out at members of the local nine, especially now that AA either cycles through them in six weeks or brings in long-held mancrushes.

When a member of the Jays gets on my bad side, it's usually because of who they are not how they play. Eckstein drove me crazy for all the obvious reasons. Mench, Wilkerson and assorted retreads piss me off because I drink young blood. Rarely do I hold a strong distaste for a player just because he sucks.

Until now. Jon Rauch sucks and it drives me up the wall. I was less than enthused when the Jays announced one shitty reliever signing after another this past winter. I don't like feeling cheated and the spoonful of draft pick sugar barely makes the medicine go down.

Coming into the season, Rauch struck me as a cut-rate Jason Frasor - his 2010 line looked very Sausage Kingly with his strong K/BB numbers and fly ball tendencies. The very low home run rate in a gigantic ballpark didn't impress me much but hey, Anthopoulos has a hustle to run and Rauch is the means to an end.

Until, of course, Jon Rauch discovered facing the AL East teams isn't quite the same as taking on Cleveland and Kansas City on the regular. Either that or he just isn't a very good pitcher any more. Like, the worst reliever by fWAR in all of baseball bad.

Few pitchers in baseball match his low level of effectiveness (19 shutdowns against 11 meltdowns in 52 innings this season) with his continued high-level usage. His FIP is over 5. He gives up nearly 2 home runs per nine innings. He's been terrible. Only an ugly bout of awfulness by Frank Francisco and the sudden gutting of the bullpen left Rauch to pitch in big spots over and over again.

At some point, Rauch is either going to pitch himself right out of Type B status or pitch himself right out of a guaranteed contract next year. The Jays would have to offer Rauch arbitration to even get that far, at what point would a 33 year-old reliever coming off the worst season of his career turn down that opportunity? If Jason Frasor accepted last year, Rauch will run towards the arbiter with open arms. That I do not want.

Then this whole ugly scene will have been for nothing. Nada. A pointless exercise proving that gambling is better known as a tax on stupidity for a reason. It doesn't always work. Jays fans are the neglected children left to fashion some yellow-watered Mac & Cheese while Alex Anthopoulos spends all Daddy's money at bingo. It's no fair. He sold the damn strainer, for gamblor's sake!

Yup

From the tremendous Red Sox authority that is Over the Monster comes this:

Bad things happen when Brett Lawrie is at the plate.

This is very, very true. Awesomely true, in fact.

The OTM post mentioned alludes not only to Brett Lawrie winning the game and sending paroxysms of Canadiana coursing throughout the Great White North but his proximity to Josh Beckett's injury. While any suffering visited upon the head of Josh Beckett is usually a good thing (cheering for injuries is a bad scene)

A great scene was the one around home plate Monday afternoon after Brett Lawrie let Red Sox fans know exactly what they're forced to contend with for the next 5-15 years The wagging tongue was just awesome and over-the-top enough to forever cement Lawrie as a villain in the eyes of the RSN.

Other assorted awesomeness: Chris Woodward's on-deck circle bat flip, occurring at 1.45 of this clip. Chris Woodward's bizarre 2011 cameo is one of those little things I really, really like hearing about. Basically on his way out of the game when a chance to fill a triple-A roster came around and he took it. He spends a few days here and there with the big club and, clearly, loves every second. It's fun and I love it (in small doses like this. No need for a full-season mascot.)

Kelly Johnson didn't get the Sportsnet memo: you don't take bathroom breaks when Brett Lawrie is at the plate. I don't care how long the Red Sox interminable pitchers drag out the game. You just hold it a few more seconds.

Kelly Johnson must be kicking himself after missing out on quality teambuilding like that. I anticipate a Dadboner-styled internal dialogue for weeks, you guys.

As for Lawrie, I dunno know what to say anymore. He has 10 plate appearances in high leverage situations in his brief career. He has 3 home runs in those 10 plate appearances. He sees the same amount of pitches per plate appearance as Jose Bautista, swinging at a very similar percentage. Under the tutelage of Brian Butterfield (nice long hug after Lawrie gets back to the plate in the walkoff video) he apparently morphed into Scott freaking Rolen.

This could very easily become a Brett Lawrie only fansite. I think it might already be just that.

Reuters Image by Fred Thornhill courtesy of Daylife and the best possible lack of self-awareness.