We are in the nethertime between the end of the regular season and the beginning of the offseason (a time that for the privileged few is known as the postseason). It is a time for speculation, a time when deficiencies and strengths both start to swell in comparison with reality, a time when we itch for things to start happening, even just a minor signing or trade. Yes, there's still baseball to be watched, but by this time it might as well be two teams from the Pacific Coast League. Three weeks have sapped one's memory of any connection between these clubs and our beloved squad. We yearn for the time when our club can be born anew through free agency, waiver claims, and perhaps even a trade or two. Until then, we fasten our desperate minds on any scrap of news that we can find.
During this nethertime Francisco Lindor, who still exists only in our imagination and not in a Cleveland Indians uniform, has in those imaginations won an MVP, a Gold Glove, and Silver Slugger, and whatever metal-themed awards there are to win. The DiaTribe provides a needed tonic by which to deflate our outlandish hopes and dreams to what probably will happen once Lindor finally takes the field with the Indians.
As far as when that day will come, I still think it will be fairly early, but not Opening Day early. By waiting 2-3 weeks, Lindor will not be able to become a free agent in exactly 6 years. It's not really worth it to play this game with every prospect that comes down the pipe, but with Lindor not having dominated AAA just yet, there's going to be little harm in pushing back his debut a month. Jose Ramirez did an admirable job as the starting shortstop in the second half, so it's not like we'd be seeing Justin Sellers or equivalent in the lineup.
Divorces are relatively easy to come by in sports, but Swisher and Indians signed an extensive pre-nuptial agreement in the form of $15M/year through 2016 (and then perhaps an additional $14M in 2017). That contract, combined with surgery and both knees, means that Swisher will be the DH this season come what may.
Roger Angell, who has been writing about baseball since 1962 (and writing about other things since 1944), writes on the World Series-bound San Francisco Giants.
Angell is 94 years old, saw Babe Ruth play, and is still better at writing than people one-third his age. Somehow he only received the JG Taylor Spink Award (given during the Hall of Fame induction ceremony) this past year. There must have been a mix-up at the BBWAA.
Because there are many games played in October, you'll see annoying ads many many times. Grant Brisbee turns these horrible commercials into comedy gold. Now when you see them during the World Series, you'll laugh instead of groan.