The Riot

Welcome to St. Louis, Ryan Theriot. With the arrival of the Cardinals' newest infielder it appears the days of Brendan Ryan have ended. While I certainly won't miss watching Brendan repeatedly lick his shoulder during at-bats, his glove is another story entirely...

Pitching coach Dave Duncan believes that any pitcher can have success with a solid sinking fastball that produces ground balls. This has been the Cardinal way since LaRussa and Duncan arrived on the scene in 1996. The ingredient that makes a ground ball pitching staff an elite pitching staff is, of course, defense.

Remember those dominant days of the early 00 decade when it seemed as though the Cardinals could do no wrong? Is it any surprise that 3/4 of the infield was composed of Gold Glove Award winners? The trio of Albert Pujols, Edgar Renteria, and Scott Rolen sucked up any ball in their vicinity. Toss in the steady if not spectacular defensive efforts of Mark Grudzielanek and David Eckstein and you've got what was for the most part an air-tight interior 4.

Now fast forward to the current Cardinal team. Pujols is still an elite first baseman, and Brendan Ryan is the best defensive shortstop in baseball. However, Skip Schumacker's second season as second baseman was actually a step backward, and who knows what to expect from David Freese and his two bad ankles. Now remove B Ryan's glove and insert Ryan T's at shortstop...

Theriot has mostly been compared to David Eckstein in the media. In fact, they use all the same words: "Gritty," "Hard-working," "Gutsy." The comparison is accurate as it pertains to the fielding aspects of both player's games. Both shortstops commit few errors. Both shortstops make all the routine plays. Neither shortstop has much range, however. Neither has a strong arm. Neither will consistently make that spectacular play that B Ryan makes all the time. Eckstein had the luxury of hiding behind the rangy Rolen, thus limiting his exposure on balls hit deep in the whole on the left side. Theriot will not have that luxury. Toss in Schumacker's well below average defense at second base and we have the makings of a mediocre at best infield.

Does this spell certain doom for the Cardinals in 2011? That depends. Without Brendan Ryan the Birds are certain to surrender more runs next season. But remember that B Ryan was perhaps the least productive Major League hitter of all last season. Ryan T is certainly an upgrade offensively, but is it enough to cancel the difference?

Not yet. The Cardinals have taken a first step towards addressing their offensive woes by adding a player who (when he's at his best) will get on base consistently and steal a few bases. Theriot could very well be the solution to the "no one is on base ahead of Pujols and Holliday," problem. However, that problem remains secondary to the "no one drives in Pujols and Holliday," issue. The Cardinals continue to lack a dependable hitter in the 5 spot in the order. Someone who has some power, hits in the .280 range, and does not crumble under the runners in scoring position spotlight. Colby Rasmus isn't that guy yet. Neither is David Freese. Neither is Allen Craig. Replacing Brendan Ryan with Ryan Theriot makes sense only if the Cardinals are able to find that dependable number 5 hitter (his name used to be Ryan Ludwick.)

It's still early in the offseason, and General Manager John Mozeliak's moves until now have been shrewd ones. He hasn't broken the bank yet and retains some payroll flexibility. He also has a few trading chips to shop around with. For the time being, he's headed in the right direction. Let's hope he doesn't take any detours.

Stimulation

Walking into the simulator this morning for my annual torture session I couldn't help but draw rather a strange comparison.

Flying real airplanes rocks. The feelings are amazing, the view is amazing, the fulfillment is amazing. Flying the simulator doesn't quite rock. The feelings are artificial and even the good landings don't quite satisfy.

Is flying the simulator just like life on Earth, and is actually flying more like Heaven?

The simulator is, after all, nothing but a training tool. Lessons are taught. Mistakes are made, retrained, and hopefully corrected. The focus is on achieving a high enough level of competence which will then translate to flying the real thing. Necessarily, the simulator is full of challenges. Engines fail or catch fire. Important systems break at the worst times. The worst possible scenarios play out over and over again. Only the most patient and proficient are able to master the lessons needed...

Actually flying the airplane is never as crazy as the sim. The airplane (for the most part) behaves as its supposed to. The skies are clear and calm. And the landings satisfy.

It's an interesting symbolism isn't it?

From the Airwaves

Recently heard on Fort Worth ground control:

Controller: "United 1234 to San Francisco, taxi to one eight left via the bridge route."

United: "One eight left, bridge route for United 1234. Too bad about your Rangers."

Controller: "Too bad about your expect departure clearance time."

Quote of the Week

"If ever a time should come, when vain and aspiring men shall possess the highest seats in Government, our country will stand in need of its experienced patriots to prevent its ruin."
Samuel Adams, 1776

Dunc! What's next?

Today the Cardinals announced the return of Dave Duncan as pitching coach, and Cardinal Nation breathed a huge sigh of relief. Duncan is, in my opinion, the most important piece of the puzzle in the Cardinal dugout. Yes, more important than Tony LaRussa even. Duncan's ability to take cast off pitchers and turn them into 200 inning, #2 or 3 type pitchers is legendary, and it helps in several ways. First, the quality of the pitching speaks for itself. Second, the money saved in payroll flexibility by signing Duncan reclamation projects has allowed the team to upgrade in other areas. Lets not forget the work Duncan does with our superstar pitchers either. Chris Carpenter and Adam Wainwright are never short of praise for their taskmaster.

With Duncan's return we can all rest easy about our pitching next year. We can still, however, have heartburn over what pieces must be added in order to improve a disappointing 2010 team. The Cardinals were hamstrung all year by a thin middle infield, starting with Skip Schumacker. Let me be clear: I love Skip Schumacker. Unfortunately, Skip did not take the expected step forward as a second baseman, and his offense suffered a significant step backwards. I can live with a defensively mediocre second baseman who hits .300 with a .400 on base percentage. I can't live with a defensively mediocre second baseman who hits .250 with a .310 on base percentage. Especially not when that second baseman leads off. Can Skip return to his .300 + average form we knew before 2010? Nobody knows, but Cardinal GM John Mozeliak has already stated a need to upgrade the middle infield. The other half of that middle infield problem is Brendan Ryan, who couldn't put it together at the plate for the entirety of 2010. Ryan's dismal .220 average when combined with Schumacker's .250 mark makes for awfully poor production from the double play combo. In Ryan's case, the lack of offense is mitigated by sparkling defense. Ryan is one of the top 2 or 3 defensive shortstops in baseball. Also, Ryan's pricetag ($500,000) is relatively cheap. Schumacker, on the other hand, will make $2.7 million next year. Mozeliak would be wise to pursue a trade of Schumacker to a team that needs a plus outfielder with offensive upside, freeing up Skip's chunk of the payroll pie to try to find that elusive second baseman who can not only hit lead off, but can also field his position. Brendan Ryan gives the team enough defensively that he is worth hanging on to at his relatively low cost.

Now, how about one more power bat... David Freese's season ending injury coupled with Ryan Ludwick's mid-season trade sapped the Cardinal lineup of some much needed pop. While Albert Pujols and Matt Holliday continue to show us that they are the best 3-4 tandem in baseball, they need some help. A healthy David Freese would be an excellent first step, and Colby Rasmus enjoyed a successful, yet streaky year. If Rasmus continues to take steps forward, he will be a major cog in the Cardinal offense next year. Still, the need for one more veteran bat in the lineup is glaring, and few impact players are available in this year's free agent class. Early reports indicate that the Padres may non-tender Ryan Ludwick, making him a free agent. Could a reunion be in order? Ludwick is the perfect bat to hit behind the Cardinal's big sluggers, but his price tag may keep him out of range.

It will no doubt be an interesting offseason. Lets hope it comes filled with more high hopes and celebration than gnashing of teeth.

Quote Of The Week

"Lord you made me. Lord you made my feelings. Lord you made these people around me. Lord you are in control." - Tonight's Priest

Fightin's and not...

Congrats to the Philadelphia Phillies for sweeping away the filthy stench of the Cincinnati Reds. And thank you for doing baseball the favor of removing Brandon "The Tool" Phillips and Johnny "Cheap Shot" Cueto from the postseason.

Normally, I'm not a negative baseball fan. In this case, however, I can't help it. Phillips' loud, Terrel Owens like mouth is a blight on the baseball community, and we would all be better served if it were sewn shut forever. Cueto ended a man's career by kicking him in the head with his cleats. Neither one deserves to play big league baseball. If these two embody what it means to be a Cincinnati Red, then the organization clearly has no class, and belongs back in the perpetual baseball dumpster from which they arose this season to reach the playoffs.

Let us hope that the influence of good guys like Joey Votto, Scott Rolen, and Walt Jockety can overcome the classless filth of Phillips and Cueto, and help the Reds remember their proud history. Cincinnati is a great baseball town with a great baseball tradition, and I for one do not want to see that tradition trashed by the antics of a few players who are no higher that common street trash.

There is no Joy in Mudville

The once mighty Redbirds are looking way up at the Reds with but one week left to play. What happened???

The Cardinals have two MVP caliber hitters, two Cy Young caliber pitchers, a Rookie of the Year candidate, Gold Glovers at catcher, first base, and short stop, and are just 5 games over .500. Is Tony LaRussa washed up? Has he lost his ability to keep his teams focused for the entire marathon baseball season? Was Mark McGwire's debut as hitting coach an unqualified disaster?

Here is my opinion: The 2010 Cardinals were deep sixed by the injuries to third baseman David Freese. Before his multiple ankle maladies Freese was batting .296, and had driven in 36 runs to go with a respectable .404 slugging percentage. Depending upon the matchup, the right-handed Freese occupied the 6th or 7th spot in the order. Those are both important spots for a lineup that features two high on base percentage sluggers in the middle of its order. When Albert Pujols or Matt Holliday hit doubles, it was often David Freese who drove them in. When Freese was lost for the season after ankle surgery, the Cardinals were forced to start Felipe Lopez at third for most of the rest of the season. With Lopez pressed into full time duty, there was no longer an oppurtunity to platoon him with struggling middle infielders Skip Schumacker and Brendan Ryan. Also, Lopez scuffled at the plate himself upon assuming the full time third base job, a job which he was defensively unprepared for. The Cardinals were left fielding a 3rd baseman who hit .230, a shortstop who hit .220, and a second baseman who hit .260. That's fully one third of the lineup. Toss in the pitcher and nearly half of the Cardinal's offense was marginally to completely ineffective.

Not long after Freese's injury the Cardinals traded slugging outfielder Ryan Ludwick for starter Jake Westbrook, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth in Cardinal Nation. Ultimately, though, GM John Mozeliak likely made the right move. The best case scenario would have involved the Cardinals finding a quality middle infielder who could provide some stability and production in the first or second spot in the order, thus giving Pujols and Holliday men on base in front of them. No such player was available, so the Redbirds choose to try to shore up their pitching and hope that they could prevail in enough low-scoring contests to contend for a playoff spot.

It's not Mozeliak's fault. It's David Freese's ankle's fault.

Multo Facile

You would think that a blog would be easy. A few lines every now and then. It's not as complicated as brain surgery, or even shaving. The simple fact, however, is that something makes keeping up with this blog incredibly difficult for me. Take, for example, my 4 + month hiatus from this page. It's not because I'm so busy I don't have the time. Realistically, I spend an amazing amount of my month sitting idle in my hotel room. It's not because I don't have anything to say either. Those of you who know me know that my opinions are as strong as ever. And it's not for lack of inspiration. Those days I don't spend amazed by my wife I spend admiring creation from on high.

So what's the deal? A few months ago, in an effort to rehabilitate this blog as well as my waistline, I started blogging about my workout routine. The reason I stopped blogging, by the way, is not because I spend an ever increasing amount of time in the gym...

What else is wrong? You'll find that several of the most "recent" entries on this site contain excuses of one kind or another for my lack of blogging. These vary between lack of time (see above) to my wife (again, see above) to my work (yup, look again.)

Today, somewhere over Kentucky, it came to me: I have managed to fill up my free time with video games and television and other such trivial things. A natural casualty of my habits was this blog. So, rather than stimulating my brain (and perhaps yours? Maybe???) I've been rotting it with mundane distractions.

I make no promises as to the future of this blog. Especially not since Halo: Reach just came out, and Star Wars: The Force Unleashed 2 comes out next month, and the month after that, it's Modern Warfare: Black Ops. (Yes, I am at heart a violent person.)

Hopefully, though, just maybe, I'll find the time to remember to use my words...

Progress

Due to illness I skipped two workouts this week. However, my return to the gym showed few repercussions. My 20 minutes of treadmill time yesterday, coupled with an hours worth of strength workouts today were on par with where I left off.
Unfortunately, I have gained weight since last week. I wonder if Mother's day last weekend coupled with my birthday this weekend might have something to do with it. All of the good celebratory food is probably having its effect. However, I could also be building muscle... I suppose a combination of both factors is most likely.

Current Weight: 154 lbs
Weight Loss to Date: 1 lb
Weight Loss Goal: 15 lbs

Out of the Gate

Workout Day 7:
One week down. I feel stronger and have more energy already. Jeremy the Tank thinks I have made good progress. I breezed through today's 20 minutes of treadmill time no problem. Am I starting to enjoy myself? Probably not. But I do like the results so far.

Week 2 Weight: 153 lbs
Weight loss to date: 2 lbs
Weight loss goal: 15 lbs

Mind Over Matter

Workout Day 6:
Back at home and back to the gym. Jeremy the Tank awaits...
Today he has several strength exercises to throw at me. I realize that after each exercise my recovery time is considerably faster than last week. While this is a sign of progress, it also means that Jeremy the Tank is able to force me into more work. The workout is more intense and painful, but I no longer collapse after each task. The Tank tells me I'm doing better.

During today's workout Jeremy gives me two dumbbells and asks me to crawl on all fours, each time lifting the weight as high as possible. This is difficult. I also wonder if Jeremy is simply having me do this so he can laugh at how ridiculous I look.

Week one is over. Check back tomorrow for week two's starting weight...

No Rest for the Fatty

Workout Day 5:
So I took my first day off on Thursday. The flying schedule was not conducive, and the crew wanted to hang out at the hotel bar in the evening. It's all good, Jeremy the Tank told me I could have a day off. Friday it was back to 20 minutes of treadmill work. Unfortunately, when I arrived at the hotel workout room both treadmills were in use. I hopped on an exercise bike instead and banged out 10 minutes until a treadmill opened up, and I was able to finish the workout by jogging. I would just like to mention here that I officially hate the treadmill. No amount of enthusiasm pumped through my Ipod is going to change this opinion. I am noticing, however, that I am beginning to have more energy, and it takes less time to recover from my workouts... Progress, thy name is Dan.

Carry On...

Workout Day 4:
I started a trip on workout day 4. How's this for dedication: I commuted to Chicago, did a Philly turn, and wound up in DC for my overnight. We stepped into the hotel at midnight, and by 12:15am I was in the workout room. Jeremy the Tank instructed me to perform 20 minutes of treadmill work. I put in the effort, finished off my 20 minutes, and headed off to sleep. So far, no sign of a receding waistline...

Change is Painful

Workout Day 3:
Jeremy smiled widely today when he saw me. I took this as a bad sign. I was right. The day began with a short warm up, after which I was already nearly out of breath. We then proceeded towards a particularly vile machine set up to work both your legs and your arms. As I worked the machine, Jeremy added weight. At some point during the work out I asked him if many people told him how much they hated him. He laughed and said no. I have my doubts. The training day involved push ups with Jeremy literally pushing down on my back as well as triceps exercises with Jeremy literally pushing down on my arm. I told him this wasn't fair. He laughed and pushed harder. There were two distinct occasions when I felt like I might vomit.

I'm not dead yet, which I suppose is victory unto itself. I am, however, sore and tired. Tomorrow I go to work with instructions from Jeremy to perform 20 minutes of cardio exercise. Wish me luck.

The New Me

Owing to a bulging midsection and a lack of energy, I have joined a gym. At this gym, I have contracted the services of a personal trainer. In order to try to keep myself on track, I've decided to blog my workout experience. I started a few days ago, so here goes:

Workout Day 1:
It took a considerable amount of effort to actually go to the gym. It was as if the considerable weight of my belly knew it was at risk and made every attempt to hold me down. My wife, who fully supports my proposed transformation, went with me. Her will overrides the will of my belly.

Upon arrival at the gym I was greeted by a man named Jeremy who is built like an Abrams tank. It would not be ridiculous to imagine him using cliche phrases in a German accent. I realize quickly that I'm in trouble. Jeremy sits me down at his desk and asks me about my goals. I tell him I'm tired of buying new and larger pants, waking up tired, and general weakness. I also tell him I hate exercise. His smirk tells me my opinion is unlikely to change. Jeremy proceeds to stand me up in order to measure me. He somehow manages not to laugh at my pitifully small biceps and pitifully large waist. He weighs me, and then places an electronic body fat meter in my hands. The meter, in all it's cruelty, informs me that 25% of my body is, in fact, fat. I have been weighed, I have been measured, and I have certainly been found wanting...

"Let's start our workout," Jeremy says. The feeling of dread that has been developing in my stomach matures into full-fledged terror. For a warm up Jeremy starts me doing jumping jacks. (It takes me about 4 tries to remember how to do them.) Soon my breath becomes labored. Jeremy runs me through a series of jogging in place exercises, and then asks me if I know how to perform a lunge. He then teaches me how to perform a lunge. It is perhaps the most painful thing my legs have done in a great long while. As though not satisfied, Jeremy proceeds to place pressure on my fists, telling me to push upwards while in the lunge position. This goes poorly. Undeterred, Jeremy soon has my back up against the wall in the squatting position. The pain is enormous. Again, he asks me to push up against his downward hand pressure. It is becoming clear that Jeremy the tank could just as easily destroy me as he could say hello.

"Scale of 1-10, 1 you feel great, 10 you're gonna puke, how do you feel?" "8," I rasp through ragged breaths. My body aches, my muscles refuse to perform their requested functions, and I feel as though I've been through a full day's physical punishment. It has been 15 minutes of actual exercise. After a shot cool down and stretch, Jeremy takes me on a tour of the various brand new and very modern torture devices at the gym. I regret that I have paid an entire year's worth of membership up front.

Week 1 weight: 155 lbs.
Weight loss to date: 0 lbs.
Weight loss goal: 15 lbs.


Workout Day 2:
Jeremy instructed me yesterday to return to the gym in order to, "do some cardio on the treadmill." I told him I hate running. He smiled, and I realized he doesn't care what I do and don't hate. I am told to punish myself on the treadmill for a period of 45 minutes, during which I must include at least 5 periods of running, lasting 3-4 minutes per period. I bring my Ipod and proceed to jog for a song, and then walk for a song until my 45 minutes expires. It is mind-numbing, painful work, but I get through it. Sometime during the last part of my workout while I am pondering quiting, it dawns on me that the devil hates me being in shape, and is encouraging me to fail. This angers me, and fuels the rest of my workout. Jeremy calls later in the day to ask how it went. I tell him it was, "flipping hard." He doesn't seem to mind. "Drink lots of water, take some Aleve tonight, and I'll see you tomorrow," he says. "Great," I think to myself, "I'm so looking forward to it."