On Language (Jerry Manuel edition)

Baseball has a language of its own, constantly evolving. The name of this blog is meant to pay homage to baseball and its unique lexicon, the oldest of which Steve Rushin once bemoaned was as dead as Latin. One of the reasons my father tapes Yankee manager post-game press conferences is just so he can get his anger up listening to Joe Girardi alibi for his pitchers by talking about, as The Old Man puts it, their “arm slots” being off. Not arm angle, but arm slot. My father’s point is that why can’t Girardi just say they didn’t pitch so good (like any good ol’ manager), instead of trying to sound smarter (Girardi has an engineering degree from Northwestern, don’t you know) and otherwise cover up for his players’ poor performances? But as much as it grates him to hear Girardi say it, arm slot is just another part of baseball’s ever-developing way of words.

(A personal favorite, which I tried to explain to my somewhat confused 3½-year-old, is Twi-night, for the type of doubleheader you rarely, if ever, see anymore).

So, when I heard Jerry Manuel talk about Mike Pelfrey and his “pitchability”after his win Tuesday night, I loved it. I’m sure the word has been around the coaching circles for a while, but I still loved the word, and love it even more coming from Manuel. Makes me wish William Safire was still around so he could investigate the etymology of “pitchability.”

Big Pelf — 8 wins, a save and a beauty

I’m not inclined to say I’m proud of anyone other than my son, my wife, my sister, my folks, or my very best friends. I’m generally not inclined to say I’m proud of a ballplayer I only know through TV or from the cheap seats — not Graig Nettles from when I was a kid, not David Wells when I was a twentysomething in 1998, and not Big Mike Pelfrey as an adult.

That said, there’s something I particularly enjoy about watching fun, “eccentric” Pelfrey (to quote Faith and Fear in Flushing), and to see him in action thus far this season (8-1, 2.39 ERA this season, 8 K’s in last night’s win) certainly makes me happy as a fan. Could be my cranky nature that prevents me from calling it “pride,” could be that I’m a bit of a newbie. Long-time, long-suffering fans are certainly entitled to call it pride if that’s what they feel. Because of that, they shouldn’t be open to criticism from ego-bloated, Yankee-biased, bombastic sports talk radio hosts, no matter how influential. But I digress.

Maybe it’s Pelfrey’s somewhat goofy smile, which reminds me of a teenager thinking he got away with a night out past curfew, though he knows he really didn’t get away with anything, but he also knows his parents are going to let this one slide because he’s been getting good grades this semester (and also knows his parents might bank it for later use). Maybe it’s his sort-of beard. Maybe it’s how he’s forever licking his fingers and the way that drives my Dad crazy when he’s in Phil Rizzuto/Paulie Walnuts mode (to quote Pops: “This Pelfrey, he’s always licking his fingers. He’s going to wind up with a disease. Who knows what one of these players have?”).

I think what sealed it for me, though, was his lone career save, coming earlier in the year in that memorable 20-inning win in St. Louis. With Francisco Rodriguez blowing the save one inning earlier, Pelfrey stepped up and asked Jerry Manuel if he could take the mound. He did, and gutted out the save in the 20th. That game might have been the turning point the Mets needed, at least earlier this season. They were 3-7 before that victory, and lost the night before on a seventh-inning grand slam. But after their nearly seven-hour win, the Mets went on to win 10 of their next 12, which included their memorable 9-1 homestand at the end of April.

Will it last forever? Probably not. Even Pelfrey is philosophical about it: “‘I feel good where I am,’ Pelfrey said. ‘But there’s a lot of season left. If I lose my next four starts, no one is going to care how I started out.’”

A gritty attitude and that self-deprecating realism makes me, if not exactly proud, then at least happy to root for Big Pelf.

Color commenting by My Dad, Mets vs. Braves, Sunday, April 25

My father should be on TV. He could talk circles around Joe Morgan and Jon Miller in the ESPN booth (no easy feat). He’s sort of a cross between Phil Rizzuto (in full “O Holy Cow!” mode) and Paulie Walnuts from The Sopranos. Here’s a sampling of his analysis, as we watched the Mets play the Braves, Sunday night, April 25, on the Self-Acclaimed Worldwide Leader…

Top of the second:
This Pelfrey, he’s always licking his fingers. He’s going to wind up with a disease. Who knows what one of these players have?

After the third out, top of the second, Mike Pelfrey and the Mets walking off the field:
What was the purpose of a dugout? Why couldn’t it be level years ago? Because it could be cooler maybe for the players? This guy’s eating his shirt, besides licking it. This guy eats his shirt, licks his fingers. Not very sanitary.

(Dad then momentarily switches the channel to The Cleveland Show on Fox5 during the commercial break.)

Two outs, Pelfrey at bat, bottom of the second:
Dad: You want a cookie?
Me: Sure. What is it? Chocolate chip?
Dad: No, flax seed.

(Pelfrey grounds out, Dad switches back to Channel 5, which is now showing Family Guy; Peter, for some reason is preparing to join a rodeo and is brandishing a hot iron when he finds his daughter, Meg, on the front step of their house.)
Dad: (laughing) He’s going to brand her.

Top of the third, man on first, one out:
They got a man on, no out.
(Jon Miller then uses the word “omnipresent” in referring to Pelfrey’s high pitch count. Miller 1, Dad 1.)

Top of the third, two on, one out:
Now it’s starting to pour again. A lot of rain. They just had a close-up. Not as hard as it was, but it’s coming down.

Top of the third, two on, one out:
(Jason Heyward grounds into a 6-4-3 double play to end the inning, right after my dad notes that Pelfrey has allowed “like” seven Braves on base already.)
Double play! This guy’s getting away with murder.

(Now back to Family Guy.)

Bottom of the third, no outs:
All these guys, they’re second-stringers. Even the pitchers. How do you expect to win with these guys? How do you like that stadium in Minnesota? It’s pretty nice, except it’s cold there.

Bottom of the third, one out, Jose Reyes coming to bat:
(ESPN shows a clip of Reyes’ first-inning single)
That would have been a “crushed” single if this was on YES.

Bottom of the third, two out:
(Dad notes that David Wright puts his shirt collar in his mouth when getting into his batting stance, something I never observed before.)
You see him do that? You missed it. Watch him! Watch him! He  just did it again.

Top of the fourth, two outs:
(Pitcher Tommy Hanson singles cleanly to right field; Jeff Francouer smiles after bobbling the ball as he fields the grounder, perhaps looking to throw Hanson out at first.)

It’s like Buddy. We used to throw Buddy out from the outfield.