This means very little in the grand scheme of things, but I think it’s great fun: Andy Martino of the Daily News, who is down at the GM meetings, tweeted a quick thumbnail assessment of the demeanor of each Mets managerial candidate the moment they came out of their second interviews with Alderson and company:
One word subjective description of each post-interview demeanor–Melvin: smooth. Hale: cautious. Backman: nervous. Collins: intense.
He added earlier that, not surprisingly, they all said that they thought the interview “went well.” Just like those “successful surgeries” I go on about from time to time, I’d just once love to hear someone come out of an interview and say “Oh, it was terrible. I totally blew it. When he asked me where I saw myself in five years I accidentally mentioned that novel I’m working on and it all went down hill from there . . .”
Again, meaningless stuff. But I’m way more interested in hearing this kind of thing than having cliches dutifully repeated.
Alex Rodriguez’s transition into retirement has featured a serious move into the business world. He has gone back to school, worked seriously on investments and has started his own corporation. Yes, he’s set for life after making more money than any baseball player in history, but even if his bank account wasn’t fat, you get the sense that he’d be OK given what we’ve seen of his work ethic and savvy in recent years.
He’s going to be getting another paycheck soon, though. For hosting a reality show featuring athletes who are not in as good a financial shape as A-Rod is:
Interesting. Hopefully, like so many other reality shows featuring the formerly rich and famous, this one is not exploitative. Not gonna hold my breath because that’s what that genre is all about, unfortunately, but here’s hoping A-Rod can help some folks with this.
Bill Livingston of the Cleveland Plain Dealer is a Hall of Fame voter. In the past he has voted for players who used PEDs, but he’s never been totally happy with it, seeing the whole PED mess as a dilemma for voters.
On the one hand he doesn’t like voting for users and doesn’t like harming those who were clean by shifting votes away from them, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to pretend history didn’t happen and that baseball hasn’t been filled with cheaters forever. What to do?
This year he decided to abstain altogether. A fair and noble act if one is as conflicted as Livingston happens to be. Except . . . he didn’t actually abstain:
Major league baseball will confer bronzed immortality on a few players Wednesday when the results of the national baseball writers’ balloting for the Hall of Fame will be announced.
I had a 2017 ballot. I returned it signed, but blank, with an explanatory note.
A blank ballot, signed and submitted, is not an abstention. It’s counted as a vote for no one. Each “no” vote increases the denominator in the calculation of whether or not a candidate has received 75% of the vote and has gained induction. An abstention, however, would not. So, in effect, Livingston has voted against all of the players on the ballot, both PED-tainted and clean, even though it appears that that was not his intention.
This is the second time in three years a Cleveland writer has had . . . issues with his Hall of Fame ballot. In the 2014-15 voting period, Paul Hoynes simply lost his ballot. Now Livingston misunderstood how to abstain.
I worry quite often that Ohio is gonna mess up a major election. I guess I’m just worrying about the wrong election.