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| Yes, I Know: They're the Worst Team in Baseball |
| 07.16.04 (10:20 am) [edit] |
I wasn't going to finish my preview of the 2004 Kansas City Royals, but after that opening day comeback in which homers by Carlos Beltran (now traded to the Astros) and Mendi Lopez (now out of the organization) propelled the Royals to a seven-run ninth inning rally, I thought the magic was back. I mean, me and the rest of Kansas City could just [i]feel[/i] it, you know? Now, barely any of the opening day lineup is healthy, starting "ace" Brian Anderson has had the worst season of any pitcher in recent memory, ESPN.com named Juan Gonzalez the AL's Least Valuable Player, the best Royal since George Brett has been traded, last year's all-star Mike MacDougal is struggling in the minors, both catchers have had surgery, Jeremy Affeldt (who Peter Gammons says has some of the best stuff in the American League) pulled an abominable muscle...and that's just the beginning of it. All told, the Royals limp into the break with the worst record in team history, the worst record in baseball for a team that doesn't play home games in Puerto Rico, and are on pace to lose 103 games.
To be a little overwrought about it, I feel like I'm being punished for having faith. Last year, there was excitement at Kauffman Stadium for the first time since 1994, and buzz about a playoff run for the first time since the World Series victory of 1985. It was fun to be at the ballpark, not an obligation just to keep the team around, lest we lose the Royals to relocation or contraction and KC loses its status as a major metropolitan area. The water seemed to shoot higher out of the fountains, but those of us who know baseball know that the Royals were defying all logic: They had the highest ERA in baseball, they were outscored by over thirty runs last year, and yet the kept winning close games. Grit, hustle, fundamentals, patience: This was the Royals of 2003, a team that could get blown out 15-2 in the first game of a series, and then squeak out the next two 3-2 and 4-3.
I'm really sick of listening to the "Red Sox Nation" and legion of loyal Cubbie fans blabber on about how painful it is to be a fan. Hey, your teams at least have a chance: They live in big cities and can afford big payrolls, and with your traditions and built-in "Nations" of fans, there's never a loss for buzz about the team. Being a Royals fan, however, is like having season tickets to the Washington Generals. Every year is a rebuilding year; the organization traditionally has one of the top five farm systems in the majors, but management has yet to figure out how to mold these guys into a team at the major league level. They bring them up one at a time to plug holes, instead of in waves. They've hired dour managers (Tony Muser, anyone?) who haven't been able to work with young players. And GM's like John Schuerholz (who has built a perennial playoff team in Atlanta like he did in KC from 1975-85) and the Oakland A's Billy Beane keep picking off their best players.
If you want to talk about a "curse," I don't think the Royals organization has ever really recovered from the death of Dick Howser in 1986. As the KC Star reminded us this week [url=]http://www.kansascity.com/mld... [/url] , Howser managed his last game in Houston at the 1986 All-Star game, giving Roger Clemens his first all-star start. Three days after the game, Howser discovered that he had brain cancer. This was the man who managed the Royals to their only World Series victory, who took a team from contender to champion. But then he withered away over the next two years, with him went the gusto that had defined the scrappy, small-ball, expansion Royals--at that time, one of the most successful expansion franchises in all of professional sports.
Dick Howser's number is displayed underneath the scoreboard, next to Royals demi-god George Brett and homegrown hero Frank White, the two great players in Royals history. Howser's death, along with flight of John Schuerholz to the Braves, and later the deaths of Kansas City philanthropist Ewing Kauffman and his wife Muriel, spiralled the once proud franchise into a funk from which it's never recovered. That's an eighteen year depression, folks--no playoffs, barely a winning season. That's a curse. In fact, the last time there was as much excitement as there was for last year's team was 1994. That Royals team boasted a starting staff headed by Kevin Appier and David Cone, with all-stars Wally Joyner, Greg Gagne, and Gary Gaetti on the infield, with Brian McRae in center. The Royals put together a July-August winning streak of fifteen games, all at home due to a series moved from Seattle because of falling tiles in the Kingdome. I went to about ten of those games, driving high school friends the hour and a half from Clinton, sitting in the left field general admission seats, watching the Royals play their best baseball since the miraculous three 3-1 series comebacks during the '85 run. The Royals threatened to make the playoffs, coming within two games of the wild card and playing the best baseball in the majors. And then....the MLB Players Association went on strike, and that ended it all. You can have Steve Bartman; there were several other errors in that inning that were the Cubs' fault. You can have the Bambino Curse, because your team can afford to put together a winner every year. Being a Royals fan is like being stuck in a lock-down ward.
This is what I get for faith. I even hinted in that article that the Royals' miracle of the previous year was an aberration. But I wanted to believe so badly. I was moving to Lawrence, Kansas this summer, within a forty minute drive from the stadium and with nothing to do with my time. There's nothing better than a night at the ballpark, especially that ballpark, which is still one of the most original and beautiful in the league. But as my fellow Lawrencian, baseball superguru and Royals fan Bill James has written about extensively, over time, the numbers don't lie in baseball. There was simply no way the 2004 Royals were going to contend, and pile on top of that the number of injuries they've had, and there's really no logical way that they [i]couldn't[/i] be the worst team in the American League. In my heart, I knew that. Brian Anderson, Darrell May, Jimmy Gobble, and Dennys Reyes were not taking us to the playoffs. As James has written, any sharp rise by a team one year is usually followed by a sharp decline. Once again, I just [i]knew[/i] he was right, but I'm just a fan--faith won out over reason.
I tried to make this argument that the Royals defied Jamesian strategems by saying that they concentrated on games and not run differential and other statistics. James preaches patience at the plate and the almighty walk-to-strikeouts ratio. To be completely fair to me, this Royals team plays the game a lot worse than last year's. They swing at first pitches, thus not waiting for opportunities to move runners and play percentage baseball. In fact, watching these two different teams, that's the most striking difference between the two offenses: Last year's team took pitches and took pitches, working into bullpens, drawing walks, making sacrifices, etc., whereas this team just swings. There's barely any speed on the basepaths, and they just don't concentrate on the field. Remember the game lost because a throw from right field to the plate hit cut-off man (and Royals lone All-Star) Ken Harvey in the back?
The injuries are devastating for sure, but it's no excuse. Last year's team had their entire opening day starting staff on the DL at one point in August, and they still kept winning. This team simply doesn't play with the same level of passion, intensity, and focus. The only hope is in the young arm of Zach Greinke, a cocksure fireballer who stalks the mound like he owns it. Tony Pena was hailed as an optimistic motivator last year, and if he wants to build this team for next year, and to get fans this year to show up at the ballpark, he needs to refocus on fundamentals with guys like David DeJesus (who's going to have to be Jesus if he wants to replace Beltran) and build on this pitching staff.
I know in my heart the Royals are going to be terrible for years to come, but the emotional side of me overcomes the rational part and still sees hope: The Royals have a great stable of young arms that could grow into a Braves/Cubs/A's type staff, with Jimmy Gobble, Zach Greinke, Jeremy Affeldt, and Mike MacDougal, Runelvyz Hernandez, and Miguel Ascensio, among others, who have great stuff. This is what I've pushed my chips in on, if I'm going to keep some sort of flicker of faith in the Royals. But I'm not going to get my hopes to far up: The odds of this staff becoming a top-flight major league staff is pretty slim--a lot of things have to go the Royals' way.
That, and I don't think I can endure another moment like my first trip to The K this season. I drove to Lawrence on the Thursday before the Cardinals' series, which I had tickets for on Friday and Saturday. The I-70 Series is [i]the[/i] defining moment in Missouri sports history. The Cardinals, the Yankees of the National League, have never quite gotten over that 85 series loss. And Kansas Citians rub it in every chance we get, Don Denkinger notwithstanding. (*St. Louis fans, see note at bottom) St. Louis doesn't realize is that the rest of the state [i]hates[/i] them. I mean, really hates them. The KC/St. Louis rivalry is as bitter as any city rivalry in the nation because they are so culturally different: Kansas City is a Western city, a mafia cowtown with praire values and an eye to innovation. St. Louis is an Eastern city, which fashions itself as the midwestern cosmopolitan alternative to Chicago. This doesn't just annoy Kansas City, it pisses off rural out-state as well. The difference is marked most by the difference in their football fans: Compare the barbecue-smeared, Beast-drinking tailgating style of the Chiefs fan to the finely-pressed, freshly-ironed, tucked-in style of the Rams' die-hard Kurt Warner fans.
And so I have to tailgate with a bunch of Cardinal fans who drive in yearly for the series. I love them dearly as friends, but I just cannot stand Cardinal fans in general. That whole "we're the best fans in baseball" snobbery is why there's only been a handful of governors of Missouri from the states' largest city. Anyway, the Cardinals are one of the three best teams in baseball, and the Royals are one of the three worst, which was going to make for a long weekend.
The silver lining was going to be one last chance to see the most talented Royal in the history of the franchise, this side of George Brett and Bo Jackson. We all knew that Carlos Beltran was going to be traded, and with him, most of our hopes for this season and beyond. Underneath that is the feeling that, somehow, we weren't [i]good enough [/i]for a player like Beltran. But there I was, sitting in a sports bar, telling JimmyO that it was going to be nice to see Carlos before he goes, and I was glad that the Royals had held out long enough so I could get to see him play. Then, the 10:00 Sportscenter came on, headlined by the following: "Beltran traded to Astros." "Fuckin' Shit!" as I banged my fist down on the table, nearly spilling my Miller Light (I do not drink Anheisier Busch products because I don't like supporting St. Louis).
Being in The K was like being punched in the gut that weekend. That's what I get for being a Royals fan. That's what I get for getting my hopes up, for having faith in this franchise. We're in the middle of a drought out here; Owner David Glass should do the city a favor and turn off the fountains for the rest of the year and donate the water to needy farmers.
*To my friends, the St. Louis Cardinal fans: Please stop talking about Don Denkinger. It's the same reason Cubs fans need to stop blaming Steve Bartman. Jorge Orta was out, yes, but Jack Clarke dropped an easy pop-up, and Darrell Porter let by a passed ball (which forced an intentional walk and the winning run on base) and later missed the tag on lead run Jim Sundberg. Any of those plays would have stopped the rally. And should we bring up Bret Saberhagen's five-hit shut-out in the 11-0 blowout in Game 7?
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