…but can you just be “whelmed?”

Tim Redding is a goon. 

While it is true that a person plucked at random from the street may bristle at being called such a thing, the professional goon, having come to terms with this distinction, is likely to embrace it, albeit quietly.  This is especially true for the professional pitching goon.  These are your humble practitioners of the boilerplate fastball, your mop-up men and unassuming innings-eaters, artisans of career 4.86 ERAs.  Look closely, and they can be found en masse throughout the registers of baseball’s universe.  Unable to rise above themselves in any meaningful way, they thrive at their least-noticeable: don’t walk too many guys, don’t let too many pitches drift up in the strike zone, and always – but always – jump over the chalk on your way back to the dugout.  Master this art of public anonymity, and a few millions of dollars may flow quietly to your coffers, past rustling reeds of box score notes and a half-dozen Topps cards bearing your likeness.

As anyone who routinely subjects their tendons and ligaments to the unique rigors of baseball-hurling knows, a man is never further than a single pitch away from a new career.  As such, walking this thin line for any number of seasons is an impressive accomplishment unto itself.  The road is made doubly hazardous by the constant threat of forced obsolescence at the hands of some other set of legs and arms that the ballclub has for whatever reason – youth, reputation, popularity – determined is more worthy of a roster spot than the goon.  The replacement player may even be a goon himself.  It is probably considered very bad form for the old goon to resent the new; goonery, after all, is something of a fraternity, and while a player may feel betrayed or mishandled, they are advised to address their frustrations to management.  A goon may occasion greatness, but this is understood to be a product of chance and circumstance.  Those who mistake it for something more are not long for this game.

Born in Rochester, NY, Redding’s major league debut came in June of 2001.  Pitching for the team that signed him – the Houston Astros – he made the start against the Cincinatti Reds, a very bad team in the midst of a very bad season (even in the early summer, they were already 15 games back of first place).  Sandwiched between two first-inning strikeouts was the dreaded BB-HR; this back-to-back series of events haunts the goon pitcher like no other mortal force on this earth.  It is generally not the longball itself that signals the doom of a pitcher: if there’s no one on base, the damage can be limited.  If, however, in the time that a pitcher is not giving up home runs they are habitually ushering runners to first base via walks, these homers can add up very quickly.

Tim Redding is, in fact,  known to walk a few batters every now and then, which has generally been a problem for him, as he is also partial to giving up home runs.  Neither habit has proved grating enough to cause a total jettisoning from the game. Redding threw 182 innings over the course of 33 starts for the Nationals last year, compiling a tidy 10-11 record (the team was 20-13 when he started), including a 3-8 record after the break.  The right-hander was thoroughly mediocre all the while.  He actually threw his first-ever complete game, though it was of the dreaded 8-inning variety: he lost on the road to the Giants, 1-0, after surrendering the game’s only run in the bottom of the 8th.  The 182 innings pitched and 33 games started were both career highs for Redding, eclipsing his 176/32 season of 2003; he earned $125,000 in bonuses on top of his base $1,000,000 contract for his workmanlike efforts.  Amongst other pitchers who tossed at least 180 innings last year, Redding’s ERA (4.95) was third-worst and his WHIP (1.43) was eighth-worst.  He struck out about 6 batters per 9 innings and walked a little over 3.  The 3.21 BB/9 mark was actually the best of his career, which is a nice feather in his cap when considering the fact that he threw more pitches than he ever had before in a professional season.

Being that Redding led the Nationals in Games Started and Wins last season, he was due for a raise in 2009, as an arbitration hearing probably would’ve resulted in a contract worth between $2 and $3 million dollars.  The team attempted to trade him prior to the December 12th contract deadline, specifically to the Rockies in exchange for light-hitting OF Willy Taveras.  The deal fell through, though, and the Nationals chose to non-tender Redding, making him a free agent.  News reports subsequently had him being pursued by no fewer than four big-league teams: The Rockies (now claiming they can’t “afford” him), the Orioles, the Rangers, and the Mets.

Redding would’ve been a poor bet for success in the AL East, a fact which in and of itself makes him entirely qualified to pitch for the Baltimore Orioles.  The division isn’t totally foreign to him: in 2005, Redding was traded by the Padres (he’d landed in San Diego that spring) to the Yankees.  He took the mound for them exactly once: on July 15th, he started against the Red Sox in a game that Boston would go on to win 17-1 (Redding: 1 IP, 4H, 4BB, 6ER).  Not surprisingly, Redding was sent back to AAA the following day; he would not emerge from the minors for two years.  So too would it appear he was unfit for service in the nightmarish confines of the Ballpark at Arlington.

Though it’s very possible that Redding had offers on the table from those teams – or others – he recently signed on with the New York Mets, agreeing to a 1-year, $2.25 million contract.  If Redding indeed had a choice, he’d seem to have chosen well.  Having spent the last two seasons pitching for the Nationals, Redding is already familiar with the opponents he’ll be facing this season; he’ll also be on a much better ballclub than the Nationals were (or will be in ’09) at double the salary he was earning from them.  A native of New York, he’ll be pitching a cross-state drive from where he grew up.

In 11 career starts against the Phillies, Redding is 5-3 with a 3.29 ERA.  While it is highly irresponsible to spend millions of dollars chasing splits and past performance, such is the nature of business within the game; Redding’s successes against the Mets’ bitter divisional rival were not lost on his new ballclub.  Slice even the most piecemeal of men thinly enough, and you’re likely to notice a significant-looking tendril or two that leads you toward a conclusion that the humble gentleman before you is ill-equipped to realize.  The Mets are still in pursuit of Oliver Perez and Derek Lowe at the very least; if they land one, Redding’s spot in the rotation is not guaranteed.  

Even if Redding starts the year in the bullpen, he’ll still provide rotation depth for Jerry Manuel’s contingent of underachievers.  Depth, at the end of the day, is the one asset that the professional goon possesses the greatest quantities of.  Shouldering these unseen stores is no Herculean task, which is fortunate, as those of Redding’s ilk could nary please us were they handed such instruction.  If Maine, Pelfrey, or any of the other rotation stalwarts miss time, the Mets will be able to draw upon the wells of this depth that are locked within Redding’s trademark goatee and modest sneer.  He will grunt and hurl his most earnest of fastballs, pick up the pieces where they lay, and live to collect another paycheck, until the teams stop calling and he assumes his place in the vast unseen pastures where the Paul Wilsons of the world chew long stalks of grass and melt seamlessly into the bygone tapestries that faithfully measure out the interminable passage of time.

 

On Eager Cries of Reformation

The helmeted celebrator pictured on the left of this photograph is Nationals outfielder Elijah Dukes. Dukes, who turns 24 years old this Thursday, is a five-tool talent that scouts believe is capable of one day becoming a superstar of the game.

By many accounts, he is also a crazy asshole.

In 2007, as a rookie in the Tampa Bay system, Dukes made headlines thanks to a number of domestic disputes with his then-wife NiShea Gilbert, a middle-school teacher in Florida. Dukes first got himself banned from the middle school where Gilbert taught by inviting himself into her classroom during a lunch period and verbally accosting her. The incident earned Dukes his first restraining order of the year, but he wasn’t done; months later, he reportedly not only sent Gilbert a picture message of a handgun, but he also left the following now-semi-infamous voice message on her phone:

“Hey, dawg. It’s on, dawg. You dead, dawg. I ain’t even bullshitting. Your kids too, dawg. It don’t even matter to me who is in the car with you. N*gger, all I know is, n*gger, when I see your motherfucking ass riding, dawg, it’s on. As a matter of fact, I’m coming to your motherfucking house.”

The Tampa Bay organization failed to properly identify and deal with just how crazy Dukes had gotten. Before anyone could get through to him – or perhaps because no one legitimately tried to – Dukes wound up days later on WDAE radio in Florida, issuing what could kindly be characterized as a rambling, wildly-insane philippic on his detractors, namely Gilbert, who had called into the radio station shortly before him. Observant individuals noted that the Devil Rays were in Arizona at the time of the radio appearance, meaning that someone had to actually call Dukes and inform him that he was being talked about on the radio, goading Dukes into calling in himself.

The ensuing court case between he and Gilbert shed light on a number of past domestic issues. Dukes, it seemed, had a fondness for launching projectiles at people in fits of rage: remote controls, soda cans, glass bowls, and the like. Gilbert testified that Dukes “smokes marijuana daily” and “drinks to the point of passing out.” Dukes had also been slapped with prior restraining orders by a different woman, with whom he had fathered his first child. He wasn’t done, though – in June of that year, he made headlines again by impregnating another girl, this one a 17-year old foster child living with a relative of Dukes’, and again throwing things at her – reportedly a Gatorade bottle this time – when she confronted him about the child, his fifth with four different women (at least).

If it all seems hard to follow, well, that’s because it is. His issues didn’t stop in the kitchen or on the living room sofa, either. Dukes had also been involved in numerous on-field incidents throughout his tenure with the Devil Rays, culminating in a 30-game suspension in 2006 after which not only threatened to quit baseball, but also threw fellow prospects B.J. Upton and Delmon Young under the bus:

“I didn’t tell Delmon to throw his bat at that umpire. I didn’t tell B.J. to go driving his car after he had some drinks. I don’t even hang out with those guys. It was always just me in my apartment after games or whatever. I think I went out twice and both times I got a cab because I don’t need any more hassle than I already have on me.”

The quote came after a number of media outlets had been publishing reports focusing on the perceived “bitterness” of the three star prospects at not being in the majors. Dukes, rightly or wrongly, was made a focus of many of the reports, due in no small part to his history of anger issues and legal problems. He’d been arrested half a dozen times since 1998, and had few supporters among baseball’s old guard – including his coaches in Durham, with whom he frequently clashed (incidentally, the entire Durham coaching staff was fired following the 2006 season).

Still, following a strong spring and having done little to suggest that he was not still an extremely gifted baseball player, Dukes got his shot at the beginning of the 2007 season. He got the start in center field on opening day in Yankee Stadium, worked a walk in his first plate appearance, and then crushed a 1-1 Carl Pavano offering over the center field wall for his first major league hit. Dukes showed plenty of power in his first big league stint, but did not appear ready to be a full-time major leaguer, scuffling his way to a .190/.318/.391 line in 184 ABs (10HR, 44/33 K/BB). He was eventually optioned to Durham and placed on the inactive list following his aforementioned off-field problems, and in December that year was traded for pennies on the dollar to the Washington Nationals for 19-year-old lefty Glenn Gibson (who is currently getting knocked around the Sally League for the Columbus Catfish).

In contention for a starting outfield position, Dukes hurt his hamstring in spring training and then re-aggravated the injury on opening night, forcing him to sit out the entire month of April before returning to action on May 9th. He stumbled badly throughout most of May, before really turning it on as of late:

Over the past 14 days, Dukes has batted .352 with 7 RBI and five steals and, despite a small locker-room confrontation with manager Manny Acta (which Dukes later apologized for), he has been a good citizen to boot. His power has been uncharacteristically absent, but he did hit a game-tying homer in last night’s game against the Rangers after Kevin Millwood put a curveball on a tee for him, and then knocked a game-winning seeing-eye single past third base in the 14th inning. Dukes was mobbed by his teammates, a scene which led to the picture featured at the top of this post.

Elijah Dukes has been fielding the ball cleanly, swiping bags, and for now at least, the hits are falling. Things are looking sunny for him, and surely he’s happy right now, which begs the question: should we be happy for him? To be clear, Dukes’ recent success by no means indicates that he has turned some sort of corner or become a successful major leaguer. Dukes is still hitting .270 on the year, and at 23 years old, has only logged 366 major league plate appearances. Still, it’s very difficult for the human mind not to assume that small statistical samples represent larger trends, especially when they’re framed around emotional drama (how many women give the deadbeat men in their lives additional chances based on the occasional well-timed box of chocolates?) If the story is about sports, well, we Americans simply can’t help ourselves, however premature our proclamations of success may inevitably be.

As is generally the case, Dukes’ lunacy is not entirely of his own design. When he was 11, his father was sentenced to 20 years in prison for murdering a man who sold his wife $100 worth of fake crack (Dukes has been adamant about the fact that his mother has never done crack, but may or may not have been involved with the sale of it). Dukes had the same rough childhood as millions of children have had and will continue to have in the socioeconomic slums of the world. He’s never shot, stabbed, or killed anyone. He doesn’t seek out confrontation, nor does he revel in the media attention he generates. How many extra chances do we give him? Plenty before him have been given zero. Dukes is an athlete, though, in a country that worships his kind, and he’s already made more money at his craft than most – especially those with his background – will make in their entire lives. It’s an economic system, though. The fans need players just as much as the players need fans, and given the intense competition in the minor and independent leagues throughout the country, people do not find themselves on major league rosters by accident. They’re there, however generally, because the fans want them there. People want Dukes in uniform. They want to watch him play, and they want to see if he’ll hold it all together or fall apart like so many before him have. There’s also the question of whether or not success on the diamond is enough. Should he become a perennial All-Star, will he actually have changed as a person, and will he himself be more happy and fulfilled? And again, should we CARE?

Most non-athletes will point to the amounts of money that professional athletes make, saying that for millions of dollars a year, they’d like the media say pretty much anything about them and still keep their mouth shut. And there are plenty of players about whom negative things are said who avoid large-scale confrontations and blowups. Selfishly though, I think that the game needs those eternally tortured souls whose physical brilliance is ultimately toppled by a mental fortitude incapable of withholding intense criticism and scrutiny. I’m not saying that Dukes will ultimately fail at transformation and find himself back in the glum obscurity of Miami-Dade County. Life, however, is often a story of failures, and her grand stages should be no different. He’ll never shed his reputation, and will live out the rest of his life with a chip on his shoulder regardless of his vocation at the time. There’s sane athletes and crazy athletes, and Elijah Dukes has always found his home on the crazy side of things. That’s the case in all professions and all walks of life. So too is the case that, whether or not you cheer for him or root against him from hereon out, it probably has more to do with you than it ever will with him.

 

Glove Hand, Third Base Corner

Pirates second baseman Freddy Sanchez prepares to maneuver around the Nationals’ Ronnie Belliard to make his move in their latest on-field invention, second base twister. Umpire Brian Knight looks on, eagerly awaiting his turn.