As a former Royals fan and a supporter of cities enduring long sports droughts, the conclusion of the World Series was painful for me. But it should have been more painful for Kansas City's hitting coach, Dale Sveum. He should have lost his job.
Madison Bumgarner is an awesome pitcher. He doesn't need help from batters to produce outs. But KC batters gave away strike after strike in Game 7 of the World Series, indicating that they had learned nothing from MadBum's previous outings or from the at-bats before them. That's got to be the hitting coach's fault. Either Sveum isn't seeing what some third-rate blogger in a Charleston bar is seeing, or the two have similar amounts of influence on KC hitters.
Bumgarner is a southpaw who slots from behind lefty batters. Several of the Royals' best hitters -- Gordon, Hosmer, Aoki, Moustakas -- are left-handed. His pitches that look like strikes to lefties end up unhittably near third base. Royal after Royal swung futilely at those offerings. Jarrod Dyson took one hack in Game 7 that had to have missed by the length of two baseball cleats. How many Royal batters have to swing at pitches two feet off the plate before the hitting coach orders them to lay off?
Likewise, Bumgarner used a ladder-climbing approach with his heat against righties. By strike three, several KC batters were whiffing at hardballs nose-high. Again, the hitting coach's job is to instruct his charges to lay off anything that appears to be above the navel.
Bumgarner was on a history-making streak in the Series. His 21 frames, 0.43 ERA and 17-1 K/BB ratio were the best ever. He'd been on a roll throughout the playoffs, allowing just six earned runs in 53 innings. So a light-hitting outfit like the Royals weren't going to tally many runs without outfoxing him. Instead, their deer-in-headlights approach sealed their fate.
In the bottom of the ninth of Game 7, with a one-run Giants lead, two outs and Alex Gordon charitably invited to third by momentarily inept San Francisco defense, Royals catcher Sal Perez stepped to the plate. The game, the series, the World Championship were on the line. We were three strikes from San Francisco victory; 90 feet from advantage Royals.
I observed then to my compadres (because all my observations are audible) that Perez's approach at the plate would determine the outcome. Seeing Perez attack strike one chest high, I began gathering my belongings to head home. "He has no chance," I said. "He's learned nothing." Sure enough, Bumgarner threw pitches ever higher until Perez popped up an offering at eyeball level for the final out.
It took a fat helping of luck and bottled lightning for Kansas City to reach that point. They squandered it all with sheer stupidity.
No comments:
Post a Comment