Archives for posts with tag: Scott Kazmir

Seems like old times in Milwaukee for Rick Peterson, who joins up with Ken Macha and Willie Randolph again as the Brewers’ presumptive pitching coach.  Article from Corey Brock here, through the Brewers’ MLB site.

I like this comment, which appears right now at the top of the section, by “OldSchoolBallNGlove” (all you need is what’s emphasis mine):

Peterson sounds like a really good pitching coach and it seams like he is exactly what we
need, but I wonder why he was fired from the Mets?
Am excited, and I am looking forward to
him working with Parra.
Parra has the stuff, and can be lights out. He definitely will be an ace
if he can keep that bad a** attitude, and not worry so much when there are guys on base.
Hope he can tweak a couple of Gallardo’s pitches too. Gallardo definitely will be an ace too
if he can go deeper into games and keep that curve ball going for him on a regular basis.
I know sometimes he struggles with it, look at how good he is now, now just imagine when
he gets it all figured out as well. I’m willing to bet that he will be an ace really soon. So far
so good guys, we resigned Hoffman, now this guy. Keep up the Great work Mark and Doug!!

Oh, OldSchool, OldSchool, OldSchool.  Why did the Mets fire him? 

Well, why fire anybody, really? 

Some (not necessarily me) say that you could leave the equivalent of three oil drums in the dugout, hastily labeled “MANAGER,” “HITTING COACH,” and “PITCHING COACH,” and come out ahead, as the players at least would be able to vent frustration on these objects, and not the Gatorade machine.  I’ve skipped “BENCH COACH” because four oil drums in the dugout would make space a little tight.  The trainer’s useful, if locked into reality.

I can’t begin to attempt to answer the commenter’s question in an authoritative way.  But for any Brewers fans who’ve come upon this page due to a tag or a small stroke, I’ll try not to make it a complete waste of time.

I checked out on Rick Peterson after returning from Bennington and hearing rumblings of Scott Kazmir’s anticipation of walking papers.  Seemed criminal to me.  Further criminality came in the form of Peterson allegedly declaring he could fix Victor Zambrano in ten minutes.  Zambrano came to the Mets on July 30th, 2004.  Assuming the trade took effect at noon, it’s been about 2,747,410 minutes; I’ve stopped waiting.  Besides, Victor Zambrano is out of baseball anyway, and telling everyone he can find that he’s not related to the Cubs’ Carlos Zambrano, further ruining any possible fun he can provide the general population.

Yes, it’s true.  I’m retiring the joke, along with any Sean Green/Shawn Green/”Special Ed” from Crank Yankers comparisons.  If you ever believed me, then walk right this way: I’ve got a bridge to sell you.

Peterson, by the way, is not alleged to have made claims re: Bartolome Fortunado, who also came over in the Kazmir trade, and pitched all of 21 2/3 innings in 2004 and 2006 (excluding ’05).  Twenty-one hits in those twenty-one innings and change.  This’ll show you the result of his last game.  See?  Everyone knocks Kazmir-for-Zambrano, but the real loogie in the face was Fortunado.

He couldn’t fix Heath Bell, who fell into the Church/Evans Hole in ’06 after a semi-lousy ’05.  I’ll presume nothing of Bell’s potential effectiveness in the NLCS that year; he was nowhere to be found.  The overall point is someone fixed Heath Bell, while not granting the premise that the guy had a problem in the first place.  Look at it this way: if Bell finds himself in 2006 the way he found himself with the Padres after being traded, and Duaner Sanchez gets hurt in that cab accident, do the Mets feel the pressure to trade Xavier Nady to the Pirates for Roberto Hernandez (no relation to Livan or Orlando) and Oliver Perez?

I’m not crowning Xavier Nady.  I’m trying hard to remember what Roberto Hernandez looks like, and expressing my extreme distaste for Oliver Perez.  The overall point is that a butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazon and the Mets get a headcase for two more years and $24 million remaining on his contract.

All of this fixing/not fixing aside, the man was either shell-shocked by his firing or doesn’t have much of an idea how to protect his image.  When he was booted by Omar Minaya on the West Coast in ’08, he had this to say (from the Times archive, way at the bottom):

”Homes go through renovations,” Peterson said. ”I’m the hardwood
floor that’s getting ripped off and they’re going to bring in the
Tuscany tile.”

Peterson, saying he will ”walk out in peace,”
added, ”Hopefully, the Tuscany tile will do a lot better than the
hardwood floor.”

Tuscany tile, hardwood floor.  Really, a matter of preference.  And it reads as/sounds magnanimous, but the guy didn’t do himself any favors. 

Tuscany tile’s a more lavish material.  I would want it in my kitchen; not my current one, because I rent, but the kitchen of whatever future home I own.

He’s been out of baseball for over a year.  One would hope that, should the unfortunate befall him again, he doesn’t make allusions to his being:

  • something you can walk all over;

  • something that’s less agreeable to the owners of a house interested in making an aesthetic renovation.

That’s just good business sense.

Anyway, good luck to the Brewers and best of luck to Rick Peterson.  I’d been holding out some hope that there’d be some sort of pseudo-reality TV series on MLB Network, involving Rick Peterson and Rickey Henderson driving around the country in a van, chasing ghosts or judging local beauty competitions, or something like that.  The dream continues.

**And hey, speaking of good business sense, check out what the Brewers’ assistant GM is doing.  Will gladly take references to the Mets running something even vaguely similar on here or at omniality [at] gmail [dot] com.

Reflections upon last night’s games are unavailable, as I was online all night searching StubHub for NONEXISTENT, COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE 2009 METS PLAYOFF TICKETS.  Most irritating email I’ve received all week.

Thin ice, StubHub.  Thin.  Ice.

These are the thoughts I have when the Mets are rained out and the Yankees are playing under a dome.

I’ve been gone for awhile.  I cannot be blamed.  I worked nine straight days.  Sure, this was the view from my hotel room for the last two:
But by no means was it all fun and games.  Those who may know me may know I enjoy a bit of a tune-up when the workday ends.  The proceedings made need for a bottle of Scotch.  I usually abstain from any liquor I can’t see through during summer months.  I made an exception, and a serious dent was put in the thing as I watched the only ball game available to me: Dodgers-Cardinals (on Monday, STL over LAD 6-1).
So if the three of you who read were torn up over the lack of material, know that I was torn up as well.  Mets game via BlackBerry.  Reading up on the Minaya-Bernazard-Rubin nonsense while riding NJ Transit back to civilization.  Falling asleep just after the blown call that had Castillo safe on Tuesday (against Colorado; W 4-0).  Painting my hallway today–TODAY, of all days, where the heat and humidity drenched me repeatedly.  Good thing it’s just latex paint.
At any rate.  Back.  Stretch run.  Sparkle, sparkle.  I geared up for the Mets game but switched it over to the Yankees game after the rain-out for a number of reasons:
  • I was starved for baseball that bore ANY connection to New York.
  • I’d already watched The Ruins, which a friend DEMANDED I DVR and watch.  Wrong call, Sheriff.  Movie was well-done, but lame.  I take my horror schlocky with two sugars.
  • It was raining hard, so going out was not an option.  It’s still raining.  Going out is absolutely not an option.
  • There was almost nothing else on.  The exception was KVC: Komodo Vs. Cobra, co-starring a pre-Tell Me You Love Me Michelle Borth.  But I missed this being on until the near-end.
  • I’d read on the Post‘s website that the Rays might trade Carl Crawford and Scott Kazmir.
I start salivating when I start thinking about competent left fielders.  It’s been far too long for the Mets.  Carl Crawford was 2-for-4 tonight, notching a triple off Brian Bruney and scoring from there on Evan Longoria’s home run in the ninth.
As for Kazmir… well, Maine doesn’t look like he’s long for this season.  You should know how I feel about Perez.  Kazmir’s still young and his performance in ’09 will dim the salary lights a little.  Santana-Kazmir-Pelfrey-Niese-Perez.  I can live with that.   A bit lefty-dominated, but that can be solved by jettisoning Oliver Perez.
I’m just sayin’.
But competent fielding and hitting in left?  Delightful.  Forgive me if I don’t want to bet the farm on Cory Sullivan.  Or Gary Sheffield.  Don’t hurt yourself trying to remember the last full-time Mets left fielder.  Christ, Trot Nixon played outfield for the Mets last year.  That’s not a joke.
Counting on Carlos Beltran, who, according to reports filtered through Metsblog is working out despite the bone bruise on his mole knee not being healed, seems chancy to me.  Chowdah has thus far proven himself.  I have been saying my mea culpas and will shout them if he becomes the beast he was in a past life.  But counting on that, and Sullivan, and a not-quite-100% Beltran to patrol center at Citi Field, and trying to make a run for it, is asking for trouble.  Nick Evans was the Mets’ starting left fielder during the last game of the 2008 season.  Endy Chavez replaced him, for defense.
The last good guy out there was Moises Alou, and he wasn’t even legitimately good.  Just lightning-in-a-bottle, astound-you-with-that-batting-stance good.  Crawford-Beltran-Chowdah, with Pagan off the bench, makes me feel a hell of a lot better.
One hopes the symptoms of foot-in-mouth include remorse, humility, and visible shakes yet exclude inability-to-get-on-the-horn, and Omar Minaya can do just that and get a guy.  Crawford isn’t the best left fielder in the world, but he’s a damn sight better than what’s out there right now.
No offense, Mr. Sullivan.  I want you to know, however, sir, that the following “Cory”/”Corey”s have more interesting Wikipedia pages:
That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and prove me wrong.  I will gladly add berating you to my list of venal sins if you show me up.