The Las Vegas chapter of the Society for American Baseball Research, of which I am a member, decided to round up at Cashman Field Saturday night to watch the Las Vegas 51s (AAA farm of the Mets) host the Omaha Storm Chasers (AAA farm of the Royals). The seats were in the club restaurant, up against the glass at the front over the stands.
“The talent is all there, but between the ears there’s a circuit board off balance.” Thus spoke Adam Jones, Orioles outfielder, early last June, after Yordano Ventura—the Royals’ talented but combustible pitcher—decided to go to war against Manny Machado and finally provoked yet another brawl.
Once upon a time, Motown included a venerable songwriting and production trio, Eddie Holland, Lamont Dozier, and Brian Holland. Colloquially, they were known as HDH. Half a century later, the Royals had a late-game bullpen corps of Kelvim Herrera, Wade Davis, and Greg Holland. Also known colloquially as H-D-H.
Certain recent whispers have had the Royals thinking the once-unthinkable and moving Yordano Ventura. Yahoo! Sports’s Jeff Passan cites a pair of unidentified executives saying the Royals have offered Ventura in trade talks over the past month. The issue isn’t Ventura’s arm or stuff, it’s his head and the five-year-old mind inside, a mind exposed further Tuesday in Baltimore.
There was a little huffing and puffing from the Royals’ contingency suggesting that there might—underline that—be a little payback coming for Noah Syndergaard Tuesday afternoon. That’s all it proved to be. The huffing and puffing, that is. Before the game and during the Mets’ 2-0 win.
Syndergaard irked no few Royals when he opened Game Three of the World Series, the only game the Mets would win, with a high brushback against Royals leadoff pest Alcides Escobar, whose over-comfort at the plate and concurrent consistent crowding Syndergaard decided to cure early enough.
Recently, I replied to a correspondent by saying, among other things, that the number one concern for the world champion Royals this winter would probably be finding a way to keep Alex Gordon. And though it looked for a spell as though that might prove somewhere between difficult and impossible, the Royals found it.
They barely have the streets swept clean following the Kansas City Royals’ World Series parade, and the off-season intrigues have begun in earnest. OK, a couple began when it barely began sinking in that the New York Mets had blown a Series they actually could have won, or when Don Mattingly left the Los Angeles Dodgers and became the Miami Marlins’ new manager. But let’s start looking:
Right now, and at least until Game Five gets underway Sunday night, it must absolutely suck to be Daniel Murphy, Yoenis Cespedes, and Terry Collins. Oh, to be back in Chicago, when Murphy was a hero of heroes, Cespedes’s inexplicable postseason disappearance could be covered, and Collins looked like someone in training to be a genius.
Thor swung his hammer right out of the chute. And the New York Mets hammered and tonged the Kansas City Royals to make the World Series an honest-to-God Series again Friday night.
Noah Syndergaard said before Game Three that he had a trick up his sleeve in store for the Royals. What he really had was an opening argument to deliver. Not in the second inning. Not in the third. Not in the fourth or the fifth. Right out of the chute, top of the first, first pitch. Essentially, the message read thus:
Standing by your man and trusting his gut is one of the most admirable qualities a baseball manager can have. Until or unless even his gut runs out of sustenance. When Jacob deGrom’s gut ran out of sustenance in the fifth inning Wednesday night, Terry Collins was caught flatfoot.