Monday, November 02, 2015
I'll be going to the parade tomorrow, I missed the one in 1985 due to bad decision making (I asked Mom for permission, should have just done it like I did most stuff she didn't think I should do).
In the meantime, I'll just leave this here. To their credit, while I don't see the kind of chemistry the Royals clubhouse has among the Mets, when one of Murphy's teammates was served a gold-plated opportunity to throw the error-prone infielder under the bus, he instead said, 'We wouldn't even be here without him.' So that's a start: Murphy's bat is formidable, and his fielding can probably be improved with coaching, and if they have each other's backs, who knows, maybe the Mets will improve as much after a World Series loss as the Royals did and come back to take it all in 2016. Then again, since Murphy is a free agent widely expected to leave the Mets this year (as is Cespedes, who was picked up much the way the Royals picked up Zobrist and Cueto), the chances of getting the band back together seem slim for the long suffering team from Queens.
I hope the Royals can keep their band together, IMHO Glass has the money to retain Alex Gordon and Ben Zobrist, make another run at this thing. Cueto, given how inconsistent he was since we got him (though he was damned brilliant when he was on), I'd let that go given how much starting pitching commands a premium in the league. But Gordon and Zobrist, don't let them go over money, you're making it hand over fist with record attendance, post-season appearances and merchandise (merch you couldn't give away ten years ago). I'm sure there is more to come from this farm system, but don't revert to letting your best players go to the Dodgers, Yankees and other teams with more salary than sense.
I'm glad they gave Salvy the actual MVP trophy, there's no one player on the Royals team that really stands out as MVP, they all contribute significantly (it's their greatest strength), but Salvy takes the biggest beating by far, and has the most irrepressible personality. By definition, at that position, you're part player part coach, you're destroying your knees (and he's done more innings in the past two years in that awkward pose than anyone in the history of the sport), getting nailed by ferociously thrown balls, clipped by bats, beaned by foul balls. I wouldn't stand there while the likes of Ventura and Cueto threw if you gave me a sumo suit on top of the rest of the armor (hell, I don't think I'd be brave enough to stand in the batter's box).