It's amazing how déjà vu works. It could as faint as a dream or as real as a pinch. The fact that it exists connects us all with time.
You believe that?
All right, all right, all right. I'll stop with the John Edwards-ish talk. But you do have to admit that something might be eerily resurfacing after a few days of the MLB playoffs.
Let me take you back, way back, to this time last year. After leading the AL Central for the entire season, the "surprising" Chicago White Sox felt their hearts clinch when they lost game after game. Cleveland went lightning hot, pulling even with, not to mention passing, the Southsiders. Everything came down to the last weekend of the season, when Chicago stole the series and the division from the Indians.
Many, including myself, thought that Chicago was a sinking ship. They'd have trouble against the defending champion Red Sox. Even with all of their pitching, Beantown had the bats and the know-how to get back to the ALCS. Boy, did I miss that one. Not only did the ChiSox chase the champs back to Boston, but they romped through the postseason to the club's first title since 1917 (or in other lingo, since the old, old, old-school days).
Zip forward to about 10 days ago. In '06, it's been the new "surprise" of the AL Central, the Detroit Tigers, stealing the headlines. Jim Leyland came in and whipped the Motown youngsters into a frenzy. They led the division since day one. The city had a fervor not seen in two decades. Then the wheels started to wobble.
Placido Polanco got hurt. The defense had their old Keystone Kops aura of the recent past. Justin Verlander, Nate Robertson, and Jeremy Bonderman struggled through September. A 10-game lead shriveled steadier than Shrinky Dinks on a good day.
And it didn't end like the '05 White Sox. The Tigers lost the division. They lost it to the Minnesota Twins. They lost it by virtue of a sweep at the hands of Kansas City (that's one on the Royal Pride list for those counting at home). They backed into the playoffs through the wildcard. They had to play the New York Yankees.
The overwhelming consensus was that Detroit needed to win Game 1 of the ALDS to have a chance. They didn't. Series over, Tigers done.
Well, it looks like we all just got served. An efficient outing by Verlander helped the visitors swipe one in the Bronx. That was followed up by the brilliant artistry of Kenny Rogers and Bonderman in Games 3 and 4. Series over, Yankees done, Tigers move on.
Then again, there is another story that is more similar to the '05 White Sox. That would be the NL Central Champions from St. Louis. The Cardinals' situation was even gloomier. The Redbirds had a seven-game cushion with less than two weeks to go. Then, the Houston Astros woke up. Roy Oswalt was lights out, Andy Pettite returned to stellar form, and position players decided to score a run or two.
Meanwhile, the Cardinals couldn't buy a win. The injury list continued to pile up, from David Eckstein to Mark Mulder to Jason Isringhausen. The team couldn't escape the brooms in a four-game series at Houston. The state of doom rose as high as the Arch. However, St. Louis has Albert Pujols and, apparently, Scott Spiezio. Those two were enough for the new Busch Stadium to celebrate another playoff experience.
Just days later, the Cardinals have turned everyone on their ears. Good outings from Chris Carpenter (two of them) and Jeff Weaver (didn't see that coming) pushed the Redbirds to a 3-1 series win over San Diego. Now heading to their third straight NLCS appearance, they are beginning to look a little more like those Chi Sox of 12 months ago.
You know, with all this new-found success, maybe we should start thinking of a Motown/Arch tilt. Wonder if MLB management will let me name it the "Salvage from the brink of disaster" Series. Don't think so? Well, it was worth a shot.
Addendum
The Sports Central website gives us an opportunity to get on a soapbox from time to time. This time, I'm pulling out my extra large crate to stand upon.
On Friday night, I found out that an extraordinary connection to baseball left our world. Buck O'Neil was a Kansas City sports icon. My hometown has had some great professional athletes over its history. Satchel Paige, Len Dawson, Tom Watson, George Brett, and Derrick Thomas are widely known for their accomplishments in K.C.
Buck O'Neil is known for what he did for all of baseball. A batting champion, successful manager, and overall champion for the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues. The first black scout in Major League Baseball. The first black coach in Major League Baseball. The best orator and biggest connection (in my opinion) for future generations about the Negro Leagues. He was the definition of a living legend.
He had a magic that would envelope anyone. Whenever you heard him on local radio or saw him interviewed on TV, you would tune in. His enthusiasm, sincerity, and love of the game had an effect on all that heard him. For me, all I could do was smile and listen to every word.
I had the amazing chance to meet him one day a few years ago. My father and I were out at our area driving range to hit golf balls and happened upon Mr. O'Neil in the parking lot. I told him how much of a pleasure it was to meet him and shook his hand. He was gracious enough to sign the back of one of my dad's business cards before we went our separate ways. I don't know if I still have the card, but I know the memory will always stay with me.
My biggest regret is that I have yet to visit the Negro League Hall of Fame that he helped construct in K.C.'s historic 18th and Vine District. That's shame on me. I intend to correct it, but it's much too little, much too late.
This year, Buck had the opportunity to enter the Hall of Fame. However, baseball's committee to elect Negro and pre-Negro League players and personnel kept him out by one vote. Some claimed he didn't have the numbers to warrant his admittance. That's shame on Major League Baseball. Historic significance has no numeral attached. O'Neil has more than enough of that, and it didn't get recognized.
Most didn't recognize or acknowledge the man's presence and importance until he was featured in Ken Burns' Baseball. That's shame on all of us. Fortunately, Mr. O'Neil wouldn't expect or revel in it. He was humble, he was full of life, and he was the meaning of dignified. Rest in peace, Buck O'Neil. You won't be forgotten.
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