Let's Play Ball...

(Ed. Note: Sigh... This should have been up last Sunday, but as it often does with this scribe, life got in the way... So, the division previews were pushed back, and so was the season intro. Still, it all applies as though it were written today)

The sun is shining, the smell of clipped grass permeates the air, children laugh and play in the street, all we need is that indisputably perfect sound, of wood connecting with ball. The crack of the bat ripping through the momentarily subdued crowd before a murmur erupts into a cheer. Somebody running, someone sliding, dirt grazed pants, grass stained shirts, unnecessary spitting, crotch grabbing, and (yes) swearing. It’s time for hotdogs and overpriced beer, for a fence shrouded in ivy, and a monster that’s green; it’s time for a stretch after seven, and the possibility to play two. It’s time for the majestic poetry of a game that can at times be played like a ballet and at others like a runaway train. It’s time for teamwork melded with sheer individualism, for taking a pitch, grinding out a walk, or staring at a third strike right down the middle. It’s time for donuts, resin bags, and pine tar, for turning two, and taking an extra base. It’s time for spectacular catches and horrendous gaffs, for suicide squeezes, backdoor sliders, and taters too high and too hard. It’s time for Manny being Manny, for kicking dirt on the umpire, and broken bats. It’s time passed balls, balks, and maybe a perfect game (if we’re lucky). It’s time to hit the gaps, send it around the horn, and for several million fungoes. It’s time for box scores, fights over statistics, and debates about history. It’s time for Vin Scully, Jon Miller, and yes, even Joe Morgan. It’s time for stadiums built to like Cathedrals, and players worshipped like saints, heck, it’s even time for some Yankees. It’s time for streaks, for promotions and demotions, and for warm summer days, with warm breezes and the echoing sound of thousands of screaming people all enjoying the same moment in time. It’s time to remember the words of Walt Whitman, the great American poet who once wrote of baseball, “It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us.” In short, it's time for the greatest game of all, it's time for baseball.

So, after all the preamble, after all those write ups on so many teams, what does it all mean? Who’s going where, who’s winning what, and why?

The Wild Cards – Since you already know that I am picking Arizona, St. Louis, Philly, the Angels, Cleveland, and Boston as my division winners, then who do I have making the October trip as the Wild Card? Well in the AL I foresee the Yankees holding off the Tigers, Twins and A’s to grab the final playoff spot. And since I’m in a New York state of mind, how can I not pick the Mets to outlast the Dodgers, Braves and Brewers in the senior circuit.

Manager of the Year – Look at the names on this award in the past decade: Leyland, Girardi, Guillen, Showalter, Cox, McKeown, Pena, they’re all from surprise teams. Terry Francona isn’t winning this unless the Sox win 118, neither is Torre. It’ll be Cleveland’s Eric Wedge and Arizona’s Bob Melvin who take their surprise teams to the playoffs and thus garner the hardware.

Rookie of the Year – Dice-K is going to be so good for the Sox (16 wins, ERA around 3.5) that the few voters believe that Japanese imports shouldn’t count as rookies, will be forced to vote for him anyhow. Of course if those rule bending morons influence the vote again (as they did in 2003 when Angel Berroa beat out Hidkei Matsui), then look for Alex Gordon’s solid opening campaign to win the Royals another upset ROY. In the NL, Arizona centerfielder Chris Young will show all five his “tools” while helping the DBacks win their division.

Cy Young – It’s a very short list, the players who might legitimately win a Cy over Johan Santana (and no, Bartolo Colon is not anywhere near that list), Roy Halladay, Rich Harden if he’s healthy, Justin Verlander if he takes that next step, Felix Hernandez if he realizes his potential. Do I see any of them doing it? Nope, it’s Johan’s world. On the other side, Roy Oswalt is probably the best pitcher in baseball never to have won a Cy Young. With Clemens and Oswalt no longer dominating headlines in Houston, Oswalt finally gets the acknowledgement he deserves and picks up the title.

MVP – I wrote last year, “Baring major injury, I’m just going to write down Albert Pujols’ name for this award every year for the next decade, and more often than not I’m going to be right --- he’s just that good.” The Mets’ Jose Reyes is a trendy alternate choice, but I have no reason to ignore those words I wrote a year ago, Albert is king. In the AL I think that Grady Sizemore’s spectacular play is finally realized in a big way, and rewarded with big hardware.

In the playoffs I like the Tribe to excel over the AL East bullies and the Mets pitching to come around just in time to sweep through the playoffs. In the World Series we get the joy of watching Sizemore and Reyes, the amusement of Travis Hafner in the field, and the ghost of Pedro getting shelled by the Indians in game seven of a tight, thrilling series. Of course, my predictions are always wrong, but you know what? I don’t care, because after six months of watching basketball, football and hockey, finally, it’s time to “Play Ball!”