The Nationals will host their first playoff game ever tomorrow, and the first home baseball playoff game for any Washington team since 1933. The game time? 1PM. This is not making some folks in our nation’s capital happy. From the Post:
“It’s the worst-case scenario,” said John Quinn, who had already purchased tickets for Wednesday’s game and immediately e-mailed his supervisor about taking a half-day. “Some of us actually have to work. It’s really upsetting. This is the first time we’ve had playoff baseball since 1933, and to get the 1 o’clock start time and the MLB Network just seems really unfair.”
I made some comment about this on Twitter this morning and got a handful of similar sentiments. One person literally said “it feels like we’re being forced to choose between keeping our jobs or going to the game,” and expressed survivor’s guilt over the fact that she could go but her boyfriend couldn’t. Another said — I presume with a straight face — that “This is the first home playoff game in D.C. since 1933. Historical significance should play a role in time slots.”
The way I see it: if you’re complaining that your job is keeping you from seeing your baseball team in a playoff game, you’re complaining about having two things that a lot of people would kill to have.
Folks, it’s not great that Major League Baseball will do whatever it can to put the Yankees in a prime time playoff game while relegating other teams to day games. And sure, it would have been nice if MLB scheduled the Nats game a day earlier than it did. But (a) they’ve been doing it for a decade and a half now; (b) everyone knows that a lot of division series games are gonna be day games; and (c) even if the game time was announced a day earlier, how much difference would it make to your employer anyway? Is asking for the day off one day in advance that much worse than two days? Either way, you’re asking off on short notice. He or she is either amenable to that or not.
But even if that wasn’t the case, you’re not entitled to have playoff games conveniently scheduled around your job, whether your team’s accomplishments are historic or otherwise. Suck it up, Nats Nation.
Orioles third baseman Manny Machado will become eligible for free agency after the 2018 season and is likely to get a windfall. The club, however, isn’t expected to pursue trading their star at the hot corner this offseason, according to Jon Heyman of FanRag Sports.
Machado, 25, has been one of baseball’s best players since debuting in 2012. He had a slow start to the 2017 season, seeing his OPS nearly drop below .700 in early July, but a strong second half has made his overall numbers more than respectable. Machado is batting .264/.318/.484 with 32 home runs and 92 RBI in 651 plate appearances while playing Gold Glove-caliber defense at third base.
Just because the Orioles don’t plan to move Machado this offseason doesn’t mean they won’t try to recoup some value ahead of next year’s non-waiver trade deadline. According to Heyman, a person involved with the Orioles said, “It would take us 35 years to find another player like him.”
Tim Lincecum last pitched last season for the Angels and he did not pitch well. Over the winter and into the spring there were reports that he was working out at a facility somewhere in Arizona with an aim toward trying to latch on to another team. He didn’t. And, given how his velocity and effectiveness had nosedived over the previous few seasons, it was probably unrealistic to think he’d make it back to the bigs.
But now, as Daniel Brown of the Mercury News reports, he seems to simply be gone.
He’s not missing in any legal sense — his friends and family know where he is — but he’s out of the public eye in a way that most players at the end of their careers or the beginning of their retirements usually aren’t. He’s not been hanging around his old club, even though the Giants say they’d love to honor him and give him a job if and when he announces his retirement. He’s not hanging around his high school or college alma maters even though he makes his home in Seattle, where they are. He’s gone from being one of the most identifiable and conspicuous presences in baseball to having disappeared from the public eye.
Brown’s story is an excellent one, touching on Lincecum’s professional rise and professional fall, as well as the personality traits that may suggest why he’s not eager to be making headlines or posing for pictures. A good read.