A murder-suicide squeeze?

Pedro Pagés, Zach Neto

Cardinals catcher Pedro Pagés (left) must have pitied Angels shortstop Zach Neto caught cold on the suicide squeeze that wasn’t on Tuesday . . .

Ron Washington must have returned to managing with the idea that the job credentials now require he be in shape enough to throw players under the proverbial bus. Even if it wasn’t their fault his orders couldn’t be executed without at least one fatality.

The Angels manager who called for a bases-loaded suicide squeeze Tuesday had only one thought after Luis Guillorme tried to obey orders on a pitch you’d have required a door for making contact: It was all Guillorme’s fault.

Cardinals reliever JoJo Romero couldn’t find the strike zone with a search party. It took the lefthander a full count to strike the Angels’ eighth-inning leadoff man Jo Adell out. Zach Neto went to a full count before doubling down the right field line, before Romero walked Kyren Paris and Nolan Schanuel to set up the ducks on the pond.

Lefthanded-hitting Guillorme at the plate and Neto on third were given their suicide squeeze orders on a 1-1 count. Romero went into his delivery and Guillorme squared to bunt with Neto charging down the line for home. Except the pitch was well out of Guillorme’s reach, and Neto was a dead man.

Guillorme hadn’t been an Angel for a full week. Washington’s postgame comments must have made him feel as though the nearest available cave wasn’t deep enough for him to hide. “He didn’t do the job,” the manager said. “It wasn’t anything I did wrong. He didn’t do the job. I would have rather went to the ninth inning with a 6-6 lead than gone to the ninth inning the way we did.”

Aside from the brain fart that let Washington speak of a 6-6 lead, he was even more wrong about the erratic Romero: “Wild? He was throwing the ball in the strike zone,” the manager insisted. “Why are you making excuses? He was throwing the ball in the strike zone. (Guillorme) did not get the bunt down. Period.”

I’ve watched the video several times. Romero’s slider went at least two full feet or better outside the zone. Unless Washington thought Guillorme had heretofore untapped diving talent—or looked in the moment like the late behemoth Frank Howard (all 6’7″ and airplane-like arm span of him)—the only way Guillorme might have reached that pitch would have been to throw his bat toward it.

The ball was outside far enough that, even if Guillorme could have gotten the farthest end of his bat on it the ball might have ticked foul, forcing Neto back to third. In that instance, any element of surprise (perhaps the key element in executing a suicide squeeze) would have dissipated likewise. Of course, with the way Romero was throwing Guillorme might have gone from there to draw the game-tying bases-loaded walk, but we’ll never know now.

It’s only fair to say Washington’s intentions were the best. He had lefthander-vs.-lefthander with the bases loaded. He had his man facing a pitcher whose money pitch, a sinkerball, might have been ideal for dropping a suicide squeeze bunt if the pitch came to the plate in the zone. He was trying to avoid a rally-killing, inning-ending double play.

Now it’s even money who was further out of the zone, Romero and his pitches or Washington and his vision. All that’s left to determine is whether Washington turned the play into baseball’s first known murder-suicide squeeze.

With Neto heading home full speed ahead, any thought of Guillorme laying off the pitch was futile. Cardinals catcher Pedro Pagés had set up for a pitch toward the outside corner and was thus in decent position to snare a ball going as far out of the zone as Romero’s pitch went. He had only to hop up to his left and lay his mitt in front of the ball to take it. It looked almost as though Pagés pitied Neto when he stopped the Angels shortstop cold with the sorry-about-that tag.

Four pitches later—you guessed it, another Romero full count—Guillorme struck out swinging to finish the rally killing. The veteran the Angels picked up in a trade with the Braves earlier this month still took one for his manager after the Cardinals banked the 7-6 win. “He made a good pitch. What else can you say?” Guillorme said of Romero. “I tried to get the bat on it. But he made a good pitch.”

It was made good only because Guillorme tried to reach the unreachable. In further fairness it was only the exclamation point on a day when the Angels were as attractive in the field as ten head of cattle with mad cow disease.

Second inning: Angels starting pitcher Reid Detmers wild-pitched Cardinals right fielder Dylan Carson home, before third baseman Cole Tucker threw home wildly off a ground ball, enabling Cardinals second basman Nolan Gorman to score.

Third inning: Detmers let Cardinals first baseman Paul Goldschmidt and designated hitter Alec Burleson pull off a double steal with Carson at the plate. The pair of them had one stolen base between them all year until then and weren’t exactly road runners to begin with. Detmers ended up walking Carson and striking Gorman out, but then he fed Pagés a meatball good enough for Pagés to bag his first major league hit—a three-run double.

The Angels fought their way back, somehow, especially when their catcher Logan O’Hoppe blasted Cardinals starter Sonny Gray for a three-run homer in the fourth and left fielder Taylor Ward send Schanuel home with a sacrifice fly in the fifth. Burleson wrecked the five-all tie with a two-run homer off Angels reliever Amir Garrett in the top of the seventh, but Kevin Pillar—he whom the Angels picked up at the junkyard after Mike Trout went down with his knee injury—pulled the Angels back to within a run with a two-out RBI single.

That set up the 7-6 score Washington wanted Guillorme to close back up with the suicide squeeze. The one Guillorme couldn’t execute on a pitch impossible to reach. The one that prompted Washington to throw Guillorme so far under the proverbial bus he might actually have passed below another bus behind it before coming to a skidding stop.

It’s the same sad song . . .

Mike Trout

Another season, another unwanted injury for a star-crossed star.

Once upon a time, when cooler heads actually found a hearing in the Angels’ front office, the idea was floated to talk Mike Trout into moving out of center field and into one of the less demanding outfield positions. Maybe even moving him toward designated hitting for the majority of his time in due course, went a reasonable concurrent thought.

With Trout then coming away from some injury-disrupted seasons, they talked about it during the owners’ lockout of 2021-22. They planned to talk to Trout about it when the lockout ended. They didn’t bank on then-manager Joe Maddon blabbing about it to reporters before they had the chance to present it to Trout.

Idea killed before it could spend its first hour out of its crib. Maddon’s execution orders may have been written right there, awaiting only one false move on the season to stamp them irrevocably.

The guillotine blade dropped after those 2022 Angels went from a deceptive 27-17 start to a twelve-game losing streak. And, after Maddon ordered an intentional walk to the Rangers’ Corey Seager with the bases loaded and the Angels down. Just as inexplicably, the Angels overthrew a wider deficit to win that game at the witching hour. It wasn’t enough to save Maddon’s rep or his kishkes.

But the busted Trout plan probably did make it a matter of when and not if the Angels would purge Maddon. The plan might also have kept Trout from inflicting any further great risk upon a body that simply refuses to cooperate with its owner’s iron will.

We may never know whether a leftfielder named Mike Trout or a right fielder named Mike Trout would have managed to avoid some of what bedeviled him from that point forward. 2022: Five weeks on the injured list with a back issue that might yet bear the potential of putting paid to his career. Last season: Hamate bone fracture in July, one game in August, season lost otherwise.

Now we have a spectre that’s only too familiar to baseball world as a whole and Angel fans in particular: Trout on the injured list, about to undergo surgery for a torn meniscus in his knee. Expected to be out anywhere from eight to twelve weeks. Exactly what triggered the tear isn’t quite known, but we do know that Trout felt it go while walking back to the Angels’ dugout.

Even though he said, “It’s just frustrating. But we’ll get through it,” we can’t really know the precise thoughts and feeling that poured into his heart and mind when he noticed the tear and resigned himself to yet another injured list term. If he’s telling himself, “This is getting to be more ridiculous than a contemporary presidential campaign,” there isn’t a jury on earth that would convict him of warped thinking.

Until that injury, Trout spent the season’s first month doing whatever he could to prove he still had what made him both the single most outstanding player of the 2010s and, concurrently, the number five all-around center fielder who ever played the game.

His hitting average was an anemic .220 and pulled his lifetime number down to .299, but even at this writing he leads the Show with ten home runs, while exactly half his 24 hits have been for extra bases. He’s even stolen six bases, something he’d said he wanted to return to doing after letting that side of his run-making game expire after 2019.

According to my Real Batting Average metric (total bases + walks + intentional walks + sacrifice flies + hit by pitches), Trout was actually batting .611 before his knee said not-so-fast. Little by little, piece by piece, he put himself back together into a semblance of his 2010s self when disaster decided it was time to speak up. Again.

For his first eight full seasons, Trout’s ability to post wasn’t even a topic. He’d averaged 145 games a year over the eight, and he did things the best players do in their fantasies. After the pan-damn-ically short 2020, his body became an orthopedic experiment. And all he’d ever done wrong was play the game firmly.

He’s also been loyal to a fault to an organisation administered like the Mad Hatter’s tea party, overseen and often overlorded by an owner whose fortune came from marketing but who hasn’t yet figured truly that marketing doesn’t build winning baseball teams.

The Angels had two generational talents, Trout and Shohei Ohtani. The latter took the first available hike as a free agent. The former insists he wants to be around when the Angels return to a winning culture and even a postseason or two. But the Angels’ administration still hasn’t figured out how to restore that culture. And, may not for the rest of Trout’s career—however long his body allows him to have one.

Trout could retire this instant and his Hall of Fame plaque would be prepared for his first-ballot election. That might still outrage fans who still cling to the idiocy that injuries are signs of moral turpitude and character weakness. Those fans should be dismissed.

“It’s not as though he has a singular chronic issue,” writes The Athletic‘s Sam Blum. “They’re all independent of each other, and seemingly haven’t impacted him beyond the duration of their individual recoveries. But they add up to the same problem: an all-time legend who can now no longer stay on the field.”

Trout is still good enough that, as FiveThirtyEight says, “the cost to the Angels of losing him for only a couple of months would be on par with season-ending injuries suffered by other star players.” Indeed.

Almost promptly, the Angels signed veteran Kevin Pillar as a fourth outfielder. Once a good center field defender, he’d be behind Mickey Moniak now despite Moniak’s modest bat. Pillar cleared waivers after the White Sox designated him for assignment. He’s considered good in the clubhouse and has a relationship with Angels manager Ron Washington from Atlanta, where Pillar played last year while Washington was the Braves’ third base coach.

Pillar will cost the Angels nothing more than a prorated major league minimum salary. That’s the least of their losses. Losing Trout—again—costs them something no dollars can replace. But imagine what it’s costing Trout in his mind and heart. Again.