Barry, Barry, Quite Contrary

Yeah, that's a stupid title. I am certainly disappointed by Larkin's second omission from the Hall, but what can you expect from a bunch of dinosaurs who think they're important because they paid some money to get a piece of paper so they could call themselves "journalist." Pbbbbbbt...

I am still reeling from the shootings in Arizona yesterday. This is a result of today's media. Spew vitriol, criticize, condemn, and damn the consequences. Ok, so the omission of a player of a stupid game from some museum in the middle of nowhere is trivial. I know this. But the holier-than-thou attitude that many journalists and broadcasters have these days - whether it be in sports or politics or whatever - is the same.

What am I getting at? Well, I've just seen some of the columns from BBWAA folks about why they chose who they chose as if Abraham were writing their words on stone tablets. (Stone tablets eventually break.) It's the same mentality as those folks on the cable news channels who think they're so holy that they can say whatever they want and the seas will part for them. They're so enamored with the sound of their own words that they can't see how they have degraded society, and in the case of the political journalists, the consequences of their arrogance has resulted in a grand tragedy.

And how many times have we said this would happen, that this will happen, that people will die because of the vitriolic political environment that corporate media have created? But no one listens - they say it's liberal hysteria. Well, we told you so, and it will happen again if things don't change. Journalist used to be a noble profession. I live in a city where it still matters, where Tom Friedman was actually a good journalist, where people who wrote for newspapers risked their lives so they could tell the truth about what was going on, where many died for that truth. But in America, we have cable news and columnists and bloggers who just want an audience.

Ah, truth. What a word. "What is truth?" Pontius Pilate asked Jesus Christ at his trial. The truth is, the American media have collected their 30 pieces of silver.

Oh, wait, I was talking about Larkin. Well, sometimes baseball just doesn't matter. This is one of those times. It feels like someone has reached into my chest and squeezed my heart to a pulp.

Until next week...

Wait til next year

The date was September 16, 1992. I had a high school soccer game that night, but it would be the only game in four years I didn't play. Why? Because I would be at Riverfront Stadium, not only watching the Cincinnati Reds take on the Atlanta Braves, but also to watch the two teams take batting practice - ON THE FIELD. I've written about my good fortune in winning the celebrity bat girl contest here. What I didn't write about how that was the day Barry Larkin became my favorite player.

Now, I'm not going to get into the whole need-to-reform-voting-process thing now. Suffice it to say that 278 BBWAA members voted for Barry, quite good for a first ballot (although how 115 voters picked Alomar and not Larkin is a head scratcher. Barry was just as good as Robby!)

I am part of the beginning of the post-Big Red Machine generation. I was a child of the eighties and grew up with a bunch of second place teams and the heartbreak of Pete's downfall. When I look back on it, I see that we needed that 1990 World Series. Pete, the hometown hero, had taken the plunge and took the Cincinnati Reds Baseball Club down with him. But in 1990, well, the team came right back and returned the heart back to the city, stitched it up with 108 double red stitches.

It was a ragtag bunch, that 1990 team, made up of guys whose careers were defined by two or three seasons - Todd Benzinger, Hal Morris, Mariano Duncan, Chris Sabo, Glenn Braggs, Tom Browning, Jose Rijo, Danny Jackson, Rob Dibble, Randy Myers, Norm Charlton, Herm Winningham, Joe Oliver, Billy Bates. You won't find their names mentioned in a debate on the Hall of Fame. The Reds' star, Eric Davis, had a down year that season. There was one guy, though, a 26 year old shortstop from Cincinnati, Ohio, who led that team back to respectability.

A hometown boy was a hero once again.

There are no numbers for that, no stats, no measurable quantities. There are no trophies or awards for picking up the pieces of your shattered city and restoring honor and respect and dignity to your ballclub.

Barry Larkin was in his fifth season when he hit .301/.358/.396 in 1990. He won his third Silver Slugger that year and was chosen for the All Star team for the third time. He finished 7th in MVP voting. People thought Eric Davis was the star, but that team was Barry's team.

Barry was always overshadowed by someone or something or somewhere, that where being Cincinnati. By the time 1990 had rolled around, people outside of Southwest Ohio/Northern Kentucky had all but forgotten about the Big Red Machine with its two World Series wins, four pennants, and six division titles. Cincinnati was some quaint town in Ohio on its way to economic decline - baseball belonged to the coasts. Oakland was supposed to mash the Reds to a pulp that year but somehow couldn't muster one win and the Reds had a perfect season, wire to wire with a trophy on top.

Barry was overshadowed by the Wizard of Oz, who won a lucky number 13 Gold Gloves in a row before finally turning over the honor to Barry. You know how the Gold Glove voting works - once you have it, it's yours to lose. Had voting been less biased, Barry would have had two or three more to add to the three he did win. But hey, it is what is.

Barry was overshadowed by Cal Ripken, Jr., who hit more than double the number of homers as Larkin's 198 and had over 700 more RBI. (Though Larkin's average, on base percentage, slugging percentage, OPS, and OPS+ were better than Ripken's: Larkin's .295/.371/.444/.815/116 to Ripken's .276/.340/.447/.788/112) Barry won nine Silver Sluggers, the award for best offense at a position, while Ripken won eight. He was the best hitting shortstop in the National League.

Barry may have been one step short of Ozzie's defensive greatness and one step short of Ripken's offensive greatness, but Ozzie didn't have Barry's offense and Cal didn't have Barry's defense. Barry Larkin was the complete package.

But Larkin is more than numbers to most of us. To people my age, he defined our childhood. Players would come and go and rosters would change and free agents would follow the money, but number 11 was always worn by one guy in one place. Like Marty Brennaman, he was the constant in our lives, the stability, the one guy we knew would be there as we moved through high school, through college, through work, through marriage, through weddings and funerals and births and baptisms. His career grew with us. We smiled when he smiled, we hurt when he hurt, we were frustrated when he was frustrated (and that was quite often!)

He was never able to give us another World Series, though he did deliver a division title in 1995 and would have given us another in 1994 without the strike, I'm quite certain of that. The 96 wins team of 1999 saw him play 161 games, his highest total of any season. (Curse you, Al Leiter!) The Reds would not have had those four great seasons in the nineties without Barry Larkin manning shortstop, even if he did have to have a sub frequently.

When he won the MVP in 1995, criticism of the pick abounded. His numbers were not the best in the league (several others had much better numbers.) Yet the voters got it right, and for once, Barry Larkin was recognized for what was his greatest asset - his leadership, an intangible that rarely gets the credit it deserves. He was truly the Most Valuable Player in baseball - the Reds could not have won the division without him. Indeed, he was the Reds' most valuable player of the decade.

He chose to retire rather than play somewhere other than Cincinnati, which says volumes about his commitment to the city of his birth. His community service was boundless - you don't find many star players who put in the time and effort that he did to make his community a better place. Now all of us Reds fans are sitting back and waiting for the day when he will return as manager of the Cincinnati Reds Baseball Club, where his number 11 waits for him to wear it once again. That day will come, I am certain of it. So, too, will his election to the National Baseball Hall of Fame.


Also read Brendanukkah on what Barry means to him.

I actually want to pray for this...

I wanted to write something beautiful here, or at least attempt to do so. But I can't. I feel so helpless. For the first time in my life the Hall of Fame elections actually mean something - really define a chapter of my life. But I can't say anything, because I know that I will be disappointed. And yes, I will be girlish and get tears in my eyes when the announcement comes at 2pm and Barry Larkin is not among the names. It's only my childhood at stake, after all.

I had sort of fooled myself into thinking that the whole large market-small market dichotomy had been a recent phenomena, a twenty-first century creation born out of the bosom of Bud Selig. I knew better. I knew that the Cincinnati Reds Baseball Club died the day free agency was born. I knew that when Pete departed, he left a bunch of putrid, rotten roses behind.

If Barry had played in a big market, he'd get into the HOF no doubt. His numbers, which are pretty much the same as Alomar's, warrant it. But he played in a small market, and the world has changed. No longer is there such thing as capitalism. It's corporatism, the leviathan, and it eats teams like Cincinnati for breakfast.

I have no doubt my heart will be broken. It already is just thinking about it. Yet Phil Rizzuto is there. Barry Larkin blows him out of the water, yet he's in the Hall. (I know - Veterans Committee. Still...)

They should make admissions to J-School much stricter, because some of these baseball writers don't know how to think.

On the Larkinth Day of Christmas

Continuing with the 12 Days of Christmas by the Numbers series, today we reach 11, which, of course, is Barry Larkin's number always and forever more (the Reds will put it up on the wall one day soon.)

Other Reds who have worn number 11: Roy McMillan (1957-1958,1960), Hal McRae (1972), Denis Menke (1973), Bob Bailey (1976), Ron Plaza CH (1978-1981,1983), Dann Bilardello (1984-1986), Kurt Stillwell (1986-1987), Barry Larkin (1988-2001)

Ryan Zimmerman is the best player now wearing number 11.

Eleven is the number of pitchers a team should have on its roster. Unfortunately, that's never the case.

The chain 7/11 pays money to have games start at 7:11pm on occasion.

The longest losing streak the Reds have had was the 11 losing seasons in a row from 1945-1956.

For this winter day, I present you: Hot Red Hot

This made me LOL. Oh, how terrible it was, but I'd put up with another equally as bad recording if we could have another trophy.

Here's my update for Reds Rap 2010. Can you picture Harang and Bruce trying to rap?

Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Let me tell you a story about a baseball team
On top of the game and it's not a dream
From fourth to first the pennant we can win
Now I present THE CHAMPIONS!

Hot, red hot
Hot, red hot

Harangutan here with the rest of my crew
BP, C-Dick, and Voltron, too
Coming to you live just to bust the groove
With some help from my homeboys to make you move
This is the time of year to take the pennant
Ain't no half steppin', so let's win it!
Listen up, listen to the story,
This is the year, the moment of GLORY!

I'm from the streets, the streets of CA
I chose ball, and I'm really good, eh?
I've seen people playing hockey acting like they're cool
If they were smart, a bat would be their hitting tool.
Enough of that, I wanna beat that Cardinal Poo.
Just listen up, that's what I want to talk aboot.
Back to this rap, and this is what I got to say
In twenty-ten we're gonna take it all the way.

We're the Reds, red hot
We're the Reds, red hot

Strike three, he's out, you'll always hear
With Johnny Quest you'll have no fear
All year long I'll be the best
So all you critics forget the rest.
This is my time to shine, that's why I'm bustin' this rhyme.
The pitch I'm throwing today - aye carumba! muy caliente!

When duty calls Jay will deliver
With crushing blows that'll make you shiver

Stubbs in the outfield running down shots
Fly balls, line drives, they gotta be caught

It's been a long time, I've taken some heat
Because of my managing we're gettin' beat
I send C-Pat and Willy to the dish
And the pitcher says, You can't touch this

Yo, take it to the seventh inning stretch!

Go Bronson! Go Bronson! Go, go, go Bronson!

Uncut, no work, I have no pain
Me and my guitar we're together again
Another homer, look out, who can it be?
Oh, we're in Toronto for season three!

There's more to life than O.B.P.
You can make it to the big leagues like Willy T.
Striking out, grounding out is what I do
They pay me millions, yes it's true.

This is the roster, it's really not full
Leftfield has a great big hole
Shortstop Soft-J comes with no bat
How long til Alonso wears a C hat?

We're the Reds, red hot?
We're the Reds, not hot?

Here's a special message for Walt:

Say no to Carroll, no to bad contracts
Just get us someone to hit the ball with the bat
And you can win the World Series all right
Not by making bad trades but doing what is right.

Say no to Willy, yes to Gomes
Just get us someone who can get on and cross home
And we can win the World Series for once
It's been twenty years since we were champions!

We're the Reds, red hot
We're the Reds, red hot

Hey there we're doing this for you...

We're the Reds, red hot
We're the Reds, red hot

Everybody clap your hands...

Hmm...that turned out a little more bitter than I had hoped.

And then there was this:



It's hard to think Cincinnati sports teams used to be good. I'm still not certain the Bengals are really in first place. If only the Reds would follow suit...

The Cincinnati Reds Basketball Club?

When I was a kid, there was something different the Reds did during winters. These days I'm sure they aren't allowed to do it for insurance purposes, but back then, you got to watch the Cincinnati Reds play a sport even during the off season. That sport was basketball.

I don't remember how many years they did it, but I know it was a few. The Reds had a traveling basketball team that went to different high schools and played basketball for charity. It wasn't just the nobodies who played, either. The stars played, too - Barry Larkin, Paul O'Neill, Hal Morris, Joe Oliver...the good old days when the Reds were a winning franchise. Barry Larkin's brother was also part of the team - Byron is it? He was the best player, as if I recall correctly, he was a college basketball star? (Fuzzy memories...)

The highlight was not the game itself, but the autograph sessions afterward. I must have those programs somewhere back in Ohio, all smeared with glorious ink at the hands of a ballplayer - I'll have to get them out and scan them to show you some time.

I mentioned this on Twitter (@churchofbasebal) and someone said he had never heard of these traveling winter teams. I'm wondering - does anyone else remember the Reds winter basketball teams?

Campaign Time

If I campaign, will they take away my tax-exempt status?
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Now managing...Barry Larkin!

Barry is filling in for Davey Johnson as manager in the USA game tonight.

Someday, he better do the same with Cincinnati stitched across his chest.
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Top ten all time favorite players

I thought I’d take the time to reflect upon my favorite baseball players. The only rule I’m using is that I had to watch him play and remember him, so any Big Red Machine players are out. I’m sure I saw Johnny Bench play as a child, but I just don’t remember.

10. Paul O’Neill. I never really got over the trade. I never considered him a Yankee even though his best years were in pinstripes. He could have been one of the Reds greats if they’d have kept him. I have a picture of my family and me with him – I had to be in fifth or sixth grade and had a hideous perm, so that won’t be displayed on the mantle.

9. Derek Jeter. Maybe the one player whose entire career I followed, at least from Columbus on. Jeter’s one of those players who has that extra something that people who’ve never played competitive ball don’t understand, things like leadership and stepping up when things count. He’s played in the brightest spotlight and has never had a scandal. That’s something right there. He may not be the greatest shortstop in the game, but he’s good.

8. Ryan Zimmerman. This kid has a head on his shoulders and can be the next Brooks Robinson if he stays healthy. I can’t believe the Nationals haven’t signed him to a longterm contract yet.

7. Bret Boone. I liked him when he played for Seattle. I was thrilled when he came to Cincinnati. He was one of those players you can’t explain why you like, you just do. He was good, not great, but he was a big part of winning Reds teams and I was pretty sad when he left.

6. Sean Casey. Who didn’t like the Mayor? Nice guys are easy to love. It was pretty sad to see him retire this year. He’d make a great bat off the bench in Cincy.

5. Ryne Sandberg. Call it a WGN childhood. I loved Ryno. I had nearly every baseball card of his except the rookie cards – I only had the Fleer rookie card and spent a pretty penny on it back in the day. Maybe my Ryno love had something to do with the fact that my uncle got me a Sandberg Louisville Slugger when I first started playing Little League back in second grade. Sometimes you just develop an attachment to a player, but he was a pretty darn good one. I didn’t lose any love for him when his team got into that big fight with the Dayton Dragons last season.

4. Jose Rijo. 1990. The squirt gun. The Banana Phone pranks. What was there not to love about Jose? It was a bummer his arm didn’t love him, though. Bummer he might be in trouble, too.

3. Ken Griffey, Jr. Yes, yes, I have been hyper-critical of him in the last couple of years, and I even suspect that he had more of an impact on the Reds losing than we could imagine, but Junior was my favorite non-Reds player as a kid and my god, is that swing art. With time, I’ll forget all of the negative things about him, even the injuries, and remember him as the greatest centerfielder of my lifetime. I’ve already almost forgotten the bad and cannot wait to see him in a Mariners uniform again. I hope he hits forty out this year.

2. Barry Bonds. Yes, baseball’s all-time homerun hitter. But I don’t need to elaborate on why. I’ve written about it before. It’s just that I’ve never seen the atmosphere of a game change as it did when he came up to bat. There was electricity in the air. You just knew when he was going to hit one out.

1. Barry Larkin. One of the greatest shortstops in the history of the game. Born and bred in Cincinnati, Ohio. A pure Red.

Players who would have made this list but…:

Roger Clemens. I know, I know, it seems like a double standard loving Bonds and hating Roger. I used to love him, even as a Yankee. I remember taping a Clemens-Martinez matchup once and watching the game later. But the whole weirdness about his half seasons and his perceived craziness soured me to him. What can I say? You can’t help the way you feel. And I didn’t have the luxury to see him play on a regular basis like I did Bonds. Maybe it was the bleeding butt that turned me off.

Manny Ramirez. I loved Cleveland Indian Manny Ramirez. But then Manny became Manny, and the love stopped flowing.

Darren Daulton. Something about a guy who preaches that the end of the world is coming ruins the legacy.

Jose Canseco. Dude is just crazy. I loved him as a kid. But something about a rat just rubs me the wrong way.

I was surprised that there weren’t more Reds on my list when I really thought about it. I hope that one day I can rewrite this list and add Brandon Phillips, Joey Votto, Jay Bruce, Johnny Cueto, Edinson Volquez, and Homer Bailey to the list!
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A Trip Back in Time

Half my life ago, I won the "Milk Duds Celebrity Bat Girl Contest" and had the great fortune of getting to stand on the field during batting practice. I was 16 years old and I missed a soccer game for it - I was the goalkeeper for my high school team and we were playing a small farm school, but even if we had been playing for a division title that day, I think I'd have missed it. The day was September 16, 1992. Yes, I even remember the date, because it was an incredible experience.

Here is the official contest photo taken of me with "my favorite Reds player," Hal Morris. Actually, Paul O'Neill was my favorite, and Joe Oliver was second, but neither of them was "available," so the Reds deemed Hal Morris as my favorite. I didn't care. I loved Hal, too! As you can see, he does not look pleased to have been deemed "my favorite player." Yes, they made me wear the Milk Duds hat, which was made for a size 10 head, I think. I do not have it anymore. I do, however, still have the Reds jersey, and I'd wear it if it didn't have "Milk Duds Celebrity Bat Girl" on the back. It's no matter - I only have about 50 other Reds shirts to choose from. (Yes, that's hyperbole.)

I also had my picture taken with Chris Hammond - the promising prospect Chris Hammond, not the aged veteran retread Chris Hammond we saw a couple of years ago. It was 1992, and he had his whole promising career ahead of him. Now, HE was happy to take a picture with me. (I had one of those 110 cameras with the strangely-shaped rolls of film back then, and objects ended up on the left side of the pictures.) Chris was a guy I'd had high hopes for. Everything was high hopes then - we were only two years removed from a World Series title, and no one could have foreseen the 18 year drought we would have.

Barry had yet to become my favorite player, though he was extremely nice and autographed a ball and a photo for me, asking me how was school and engaging in conversation as he signed. Of all of the moments of that day, the moment I spoke with Barry Larkin is the most memorable, even as I was unaware of the player he would become. Lark deserves the Hall, and he better get it next season. HEAR THAT, SPORTSWRITERS?????

He also needs to get back to Cincinnati. I share the view of Redleg Nation when I say BRING BACK BARRY! I was disappointed to see that rather than making room for newbies like Barry, the Reds hired back all of the coaching staff from 2008. That coaching staff did such a great job, we only ended up in FIFTH PLACE out of SIX TEAMS. I want to see Barry's butt on that bench!

As I said, Paul O'Neill was my favorite player. Never did I think this day would be the last time I saw Paul in a Reds uniform. What a sad, sad day it was to learn that he had been traded. Even now, after Paul had all of those great seasons with the Yanks, after he won all of those World Series rings, I still can't view him as a Yankee. He was a Red. He was part of that very special 1990 team. He was my favorite! I am happy, though, that New York embraced him as one of their own. That's awfully tough to accomplish when you're an outsider.

The Reds played the Braves that day, the first place Braves, the Ron Gant/David Justice Braves. The Reds lost. Mike Stinkton was the winning pitcher for the Braves and Mark Wohlers got the save. Scott Ruskin blew it for Greg Swindell, my favorite non-Jose pitcher, by serving up two runs in the eighth, giving the Chopheads a 3-2 lead. The Reds fell the furthest behind the eventual division winning Padres that night - 10.5 games back - than they were all season. They'd been in first place until the end of July but started to lose more games than they were winning and ended the season in second place, 8 games back of the Fathers.

On that night, though, September 16, 1992, the standings did not matter to me.