As the San Francisco Giants prepare to play the Detroit Tigers in the World Series, coming off a Giants fan's dream of a postseason run that involved winning three straight elimination games twice in consecutive series, it's important to stop and remember the most crucial contributor who got them here, a man without whom this scenario would not be possible.
Melky Cabrera.
Cabrera, an off-season acquisition from Kansas City, was having the season of his life before he got caught using a banned substance on August 15 and suspended by the league for 50 games. He was leading the majors in hits, and was unquestionably the Giants' offensive MVP - not to mention the MVP in the All-Star Game, where he hit a home run, helping to earn the Giants' home field advantage in the World Series, which begins tomorrow in San Francisco.
When the news broke of Melky's suspension, it was devastating. I was in JFK airport in New York when I saw the report on a TV in a bar, and I remember thinking "Well, that's probably the season." At the time, the Giants were a game back of the Dodgers for first place in the NL West, having been chasing them all season.
What's remarkable is how the rest of the season played out. The Giants went on a tear, finishing the rest of their games with a 30-14 record, or a winning percentage of .682. The Dodgers, to the contrary, finished their schedule with a 21-23 record - a .477 win percentage - and ended the season eight games behind the Giants and, more importantly, out of the playoffs.
This doesn't really make sense, on the surface. You shouldn't play your best baseball after you lose your best player. But everyone who watches enough baseball, and sports in general, knows that the improbable happens all the time. Baseball is like life in that way - we constantly read articles and see local news segments about people facing long odds to overcome adversity and ultimately triumph. My Facebook news feed would be barren without them.
You see, the Giants are a classic example of what a baseball team should be. They responded to the challenge of losing their best player - of being betrayed by their best player (as opposed to losing him to injury) - by banding together and picking up the slack. Buster Posey became their new best player, leading the majors in hitting the second half of the season. Marco Scutaro, a 36-year-old journeyman, came over in a trade with Colorado that barely qualified to be announced in the newspaper, and went on to hit .362 the rest of the year, dwarfing the impact of the much more heralded Hunter Pence trade from Philadelphia, as the lanky right-fielder did little more than herky-jerk and crazy-eye his way through a lackluster last couple of months.
It was Scutaro who was the target of a dirty play in Game 2 of the NLCS, when the Cardinals' Matt Holliday unnecessarily took him out in a late slide at second base. It was ugly, and the Giants feared they might lose their second baseman to a hip injury as a result. But once again, they came together to humiliate St. Louis - outscoring them 20-1 over the final three games of the series - with Scutaro leading the way, hitting an ungodly .500 and winning the series MVP award.
That MVP award links Scutaro, in a way, back to Melky Cabrera. Cabrera, who can now only sit and watch as the Giants get ready to play in the World Series, has been forgotten by the team he once led. He was eligible to be reinstated by the Giants after the first five games of the playoffs, his suspension having been served. But without batting an eye, the Giants' ownership announced he was no longer welcome. Simply put, he's not a part of the team anymore, and never will be. Could he have helped out offensively? Most definitely, considering his replacement, Gregor Blanco, hit .182 in the NLCS, which was actually slightly better than the Giants' 4-5 hitters, Posey and Pence, who hit an abominable .154 and .179, respectively. Those are pitchers' hitting numbers.
But the Giants understand how to operate as a team. They get that clubhouse camaraderie is more important than statistics. It's a concept the Dodgers have failed to grasp. Given the same scenario, there is no way the Dodgers wouldn't have reinstated their best offensive player for the playoffs, despite the fact that his teammates had been let down by his selfishness. In fact, they did just that in 2009, when Manny Ramirez was given the same suspension Cabrera was. They brought him back towards the end of the season, the fans welcomed him with open arms, and the Dodgers were beaten in five games by Philadelphia in the NLCS, dragged down by Manny's awful performance.
(Of course, there is a glaring hole in my argument, which is that the Giants did bring back reliever Guillermo Mota this season after his 100-game steroid suspension, which is indeed a bit hypocritical. The difference, however, is that no once cares about Mota. He's a middle reliever, not an offensive superstar charged with the burden of leading his team, like Manny or Melky was. Mota is like a stray cat hanging out by the screen door outside your kitchen: irritating, but relatively harmless. Melky was a rattlesnake coiled on the front porch - you have to call the fire department to come over and sever its head with a shovel, just like my mom did when she was startled by one at our family friend's summer home when I was a kid.)
What makes the Dodgers' lack of success this season all the more glaring is the money they squandered acquiring big name players late in the season, assuming this would translate to more wins and a playoff appearance. It didn't. While Marco Scutaro's workmanlike leadership helped propel the Giants into the postseason, the Dodgers capsized, whining in the newspaper about their new superstars not having enough time to mesh with the rest of the team. As if there is something different to a talent like Adrian Gonzalez about hitting a baseball in Boston versus Los Angeles.
And as soon as the losing took hold, the bad attitude was pervasive and palpable throughout the city. Every Saturday, the LA Times prints letters to the editor in the Sports section, and it was flooded, week after week, with unhappy fans criticizing the team. They were like petulant children on Christmas morning, unhappy that their shiny, expensive new toys weren't good enough. But ultimately, LA is not really a baseball town. Sure, when the Dodgers are winning, the fans love them. When they're not, they find something else to do. In New York, the Yankees may buy up the big money players in the same way the Dodgers did this year, but there exists a rabid obsession with the team amongst the fan base, win or lose. In LA, the Lakers are the Yankees. The Dodgers are more like the Knicks.
And in San Francisco, the Giants are the Giants. Their identity is crystallized as much as any team in sports, and the loyal fans appreciate that more than anything - more than winning, even. Whether or not they defeat Detroit and win it all in the coming week won't change any of our minds about them. They will remain beloved far into the future not just for what they accomplish, but for who they are. And no single person helped them realize who they are more than Melky Cabrera. Because he illustrated definitively who they are not.
Melky Cabrera.
Cabrera, an off-season acquisition from Kansas City, was having the season of his life before he got caught using a banned substance on August 15 and suspended by the league for 50 games. He was leading the majors in hits, and was unquestionably the Giants' offensive MVP - not to mention the MVP in the All-Star Game, where he hit a home run, helping to earn the Giants' home field advantage in the World Series, which begins tomorrow in San Francisco.
When the news broke of Melky's suspension, it was devastating. I was in JFK airport in New York when I saw the report on a TV in a bar, and I remember thinking "Well, that's probably the season." At the time, the Giants were a game back of the Dodgers for first place in the NL West, having been chasing them all season.
What's remarkable is how the rest of the season played out. The Giants went on a tear, finishing the rest of their games with a 30-14 record, or a winning percentage of .682. The Dodgers, to the contrary, finished their schedule with a 21-23 record - a .477 win percentage - and ended the season eight games behind the Giants and, more importantly, out of the playoffs.
This doesn't really make sense, on the surface. You shouldn't play your best baseball after you lose your best player. But everyone who watches enough baseball, and sports in general, knows that the improbable happens all the time. Baseball is like life in that way - we constantly read articles and see local news segments about people facing long odds to overcome adversity and ultimately triumph. My Facebook news feed would be barren without them.
You see, the Giants are a classic example of what a baseball team should be. They responded to the challenge of losing their best player - of being betrayed by their best player (as opposed to losing him to injury) - by banding together and picking up the slack. Buster Posey became their new best player, leading the majors in hitting the second half of the season. Marco Scutaro, a 36-year-old journeyman, came over in a trade with Colorado that barely qualified to be announced in the newspaper, and went on to hit .362 the rest of the year, dwarfing the impact of the much more heralded Hunter Pence trade from Philadelphia, as the lanky right-fielder did little more than herky-jerk and crazy-eye his way through a lackluster last couple of months.
It was Scutaro who was the target of a dirty play in Game 2 of the NLCS, when the Cardinals' Matt Holliday unnecessarily took him out in a late slide at second base. It was ugly, and the Giants feared they might lose their second baseman to a hip injury as a result. But once again, they came together to humiliate St. Louis - outscoring them 20-1 over the final three games of the series - with Scutaro leading the way, hitting an ungodly .500 and winning the series MVP award.
That MVP award links Scutaro, in a way, back to Melky Cabrera. Cabrera, who can now only sit and watch as the Giants get ready to play in the World Series, has been forgotten by the team he once led. He was eligible to be reinstated by the Giants after the first five games of the playoffs, his suspension having been served. But without batting an eye, the Giants' ownership announced he was no longer welcome. Simply put, he's not a part of the team anymore, and never will be. Could he have helped out offensively? Most definitely, considering his replacement, Gregor Blanco, hit .182 in the NLCS, which was actually slightly better than the Giants' 4-5 hitters, Posey and Pence, who hit an abominable .154 and .179, respectively. Those are pitchers' hitting numbers.
But the Giants understand how to operate as a team. They get that clubhouse camaraderie is more important than statistics. It's a concept the Dodgers have failed to grasp. Given the same scenario, there is no way the Dodgers wouldn't have reinstated their best offensive player for the playoffs, despite the fact that his teammates had been let down by his selfishness. In fact, they did just that in 2009, when Manny Ramirez was given the same suspension Cabrera was. They brought him back towards the end of the season, the fans welcomed him with open arms, and the Dodgers were beaten in five games by Philadelphia in the NLCS, dragged down by Manny's awful performance.
(Of course, there is a glaring hole in my argument, which is that the Giants did bring back reliever Guillermo Mota this season after his 100-game steroid suspension, which is indeed a bit hypocritical. The difference, however, is that no once cares about Mota. He's a middle reliever, not an offensive superstar charged with the burden of leading his team, like Manny or Melky was. Mota is like a stray cat hanging out by the screen door outside your kitchen: irritating, but relatively harmless. Melky was a rattlesnake coiled on the front porch - you have to call the fire department to come over and sever its head with a shovel, just like my mom did when she was startled by one at our family friend's summer home when I was a kid.)
What makes the Dodgers' lack of success this season all the more glaring is the money they squandered acquiring big name players late in the season, assuming this would translate to more wins and a playoff appearance. It didn't. While Marco Scutaro's workmanlike leadership helped propel the Giants into the postseason, the Dodgers capsized, whining in the newspaper about their new superstars not having enough time to mesh with the rest of the team. As if there is something different to a talent like Adrian Gonzalez about hitting a baseball in Boston versus Los Angeles.
And as soon as the losing took hold, the bad attitude was pervasive and palpable throughout the city. Every Saturday, the LA Times prints letters to the editor in the Sports section, and it was flooded, week after week, with unhappy fans criticizing the team. They were like petulant children on Christmas morning, unhappy that their shiny, expensive new toys weren't good enough. But ultimately, LA is not really a baseball town. Sure, when the Dodgers are winning, the fans love them. When they're not, they find something else to do. In New York, the Yankees may buy up the big money players in the same way the Dodgers did this year, but there exists a rabid obsession with the team amongst the fan base, win or lose. In LA, the Lakers are the Yankees. The Dodgers are more like the Knicks.
And in San Francisco, the Giants are the Giants. Their identity is crystallized as much as any team in sports, and the loyal fans appreciate that more than anything - more than winning, even. Whether or not they defeat Detroit and win it all in the coming week won't change any of our minds about them. They will remain beloved far into the future not just for what they accomplish, but for who they are. And no single person helped them realize who they are more than Melky Cabrera. Because he illustrated definitively who they are not.
