Baseball’s Defiant April?

Baseball's limitless pleasantries include those times, and they have been many, when things are not the way they're "supposed" to be. Reassurance that Andujar's Law (In baseball, there's just one word — you never know) is immune to repeal, and is perhaps the sole law of the land that ought to be so, is an impeccable way to open a season.

The St. Louis Cardinals, who withstood the free agency departure of Albert Pujols and the retirement of Tony La Russa, were not "supposed" to be picking up (an 11-7 start and 14-8 as of this writing) the way they left 2011 (regular season) off (at 11-7, en route a stupefying World Series conquest). The Los Angeles Angels, who welcomed Pujols with a fat decade's contract, were not supposed to be looking like aging also-rans approaching April's closure, and Pujols was not supposed to be looking like a man in search of his swing.

But there they are. The Cardinals have the National League Central rather secure for now, three games ahead of the .500-clinging Cincinnati Reds. And the Angels have the American League West's basement rather secure for now, themselves, nine and a half games out of first place. The Texas Rangers, who succumbed to the Cardinals' extraterrestrial conquerors last October, were supposed to have hearty competition from Disneyland. Now they have the division to themselves as the first month expires, and the Angels — who can't seem to decide which of their talented youth to plug in where, and at whose expense — must surely have the feeling that hell is very much like this.

The Washington Nationals were expected merely to look competitive. That was then: "Washington — First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League," from your early-to-mid 20th Century history. This is now: Washington — first in war, first in peace, and first in the National League. Okay, let's not get technical: at this writing, they're in a dead heat with the Atlanta Braves, with both clubs a mere game ahead of ... drumroll, please ... the New York Mets. And the Nats may well have the pitching to stay the course. Come to think of it, phenom Bryan Harper wasn't supposed to be making major league noise this soon; the Nats sent him for further seasoning in spring training. But there he was, on April's final weekend ... making noise, at the plate and in the field alike, ahead of schedule enough and just in time to make Washington's already-bristling enthusiasm shift into sixth gear.

That was 50 years ago, in the Mets' infant season: "Come an' see my amazin' Mets. I been in this game a hundred years but I see new ways to lose I never knew were invented yet," manager Casey Stengel would hector the paying customers milling into the antique Polo Grounds. (They played there while awaiting the completion of the playpen whose planning left Robert Moses safe to drive Walter O'Malley's Dodgers out of Brooklyn.) This is now: Manager Terry Collins (art this writing) must surely be tempted to say of his 13-9 charges, "I been in this game 50 years but I see new ways to win I never new were invented yet." Maybe that would be a slight exaggeration. But if you can win despite your bullpen being half full of bull, your team incapable until his fifth start to give recovered Johan Santana even a single first-inning run (without securing a win for the man), and your front office still believed half-capacitated by the owners' shaking off their Bernie Madoff fleecings, maybe you have discovered such ways.

The Cleveland Indians were supposed to be continuing a rebuilding. They weren't supposed to be (at this writing) in a tight fight for first in the American League Central. Were they? But there they are, with the Chicago White Sox (minus Ozzie Guillen) and the Detroit Tigers both a mere game in their rear view mirrors. Where the White Sox and the Tigers take their early comfort: for the Indians thus far, scoring runs is only slightly less a challenge than mining diamonds with swizzle sticks.

The Baltimore Orioles, who reverted back to the cap style of their glorious "Oriole Way" years (the 1970s and early 1980s), were also thought to be due to revert back to their style of the new century: sad, sadder, saddest. They weren't even supposed to be a subtopic when the subject was the competition in the American League East. But there they are (at this writing), holding a half-game lead over the Tampa Bay Rays (who were supposed to be one subtopic) and the New York Yankees (who were supposed to be another).

Everyone agreed on this much regarding the Los Angeles Dodgers: their prying away from Frank McCourt's hands at long enough last (and into the hands of, among others, Magic Johnson and Stan Kasten) was, at least, supposed to have removed the earth mover that was parked atop the franchise's head for long enough. Not everyone agreed the Dodgers would graduate from narcissist's plaything to even remote contention. But there they are, on the next to last April day, with the best record in baseball (16-6) and the player (Matt Kemp) who seems to be doing what Pujols was supposed to be doing down the freeway. (Is it me, or are they already pondering Triple Crowns for Kemp and the Rangers' Josh Hamilton?) The pitching doesn't exactly hurt, and the rest of the Dodgers aren't exactly pushovers. If you pass through Los Angeles and hear an incessant chorus of "Get Happy," don't be too surprised.

Alas, everyone agreed only on this much regarding the Boston Red Sox: they'd be nothing if not interesting, as usual, even if they couldn't possibly top the crash of 2011 and the shameful putsch of Terry Francona. The bad news: The Red Sox, too, have just about picked up where they left off, except that on April's final weekend they were dead last in the AL East. The worse news: New manager Bobby Valentine not only stirred an unnecessarily angry pot early on, questioning Kevin Youkilis's head in the game as Youkilis opened in a slump and stirring team leader Dustin Pedroia to all but slap his manager down in reply, but Valentine has looked the way he merely accused Youkilis. Consider what Sports Illustrated's Tom Verducci has merely outlined, since Valentine:

"Didn't have a lineup planned in advance for the third game of the year, leaving Kevin Youkilis to find he was not in the lineup when he showed up at the park that day. (Most managers will give veterans a heads up to a lineup change, especially when it is so easy to script that early in the season.)

"Started his runner at first base with one out in the ninth April 18 — down four runs with two on. A line drive double play to first base ended the game. It's basic Baseball 101: you don't risk runners when you don't even have the tying run to the plate yet."

So much for the best April of David Ortiz's career.

Valentine was out of the American game for a decade before he shook hands with the Red Sox. Ozzie Guillen, who left the south side of Chicago for Miami, was out of the American game for about ten minutes before he made that change, so to say. His Marlins have new colors and last place in the NL East. And he already had himself a nasty early-season controversy, getting himself suspended five games — by his bosses — after he waxed in such manner as to cause people to think he has a sentimental weakness for Fidel Castro, a Communist tyrant for whom much of Miami's population, never mind Cuba's, has anything but a sentimental weakness.

Hmmm. On the other hand, maybe a few things — Bobby Valentine's ability to outsmart himself and merely alienate others; the Blizzard of Ozz's ability to find the few places left on his foot through which to shoot himself — are the way they're "supposed" to be, after all. Including the fact that it is, merely, on the threshold of May.