Matt Stairs Helps Padres Win At Wrigley

The Padres won again today, in no small part due to Matty Stairs' work at the plate and in the field.

In the top of the 1st, Stairs hit a double off the ivy scoring two runs. Then, an inning later, he made a diving catch - yes, a diving catch - to rob the Cubbies of at least a run-scoring single.

I haven't written much about Matt this season but he's really something of a marvel. The 42-year old dropped a ton of weight this season to come back and play pinch hitter for the Padres. His numbers aren't great, but you get the feeling he's holding back a few big hits for when it counts.

Like today.

And maybe like in October.

Latos Is Getting The Rook Treatment

Matty got squeezed tonight against the Cubinskies.

I'm thinking particularly of the stretch of batters he faced with 2 outs in the 4th: Ryan Theriot, Milton Bradley and Derrek Lee. Mat was putting fastballs on corners and dropping breaking stuff right over the plate, but got zero calls from home plate umpire CB Bucknor. The result? Walk, Walk, RBI double, Latos done.

Don't worry about it, Mat. Chalk it up to jealousy on the part of others.

That's what I do when things don't go my way.

The Padres Are Making Me Angry

Dear Reader,

Yesterday, watching the Cubs pile on against the Padres en route to an 11-3 victory and a sweep of the three game series at Wrigley, I lost my composure a bit. There I was, mild-mannered Bevormo, sitting at my desk just typing away on some document, the mlb.com broadcast of the game playing on the computer, when all of a sudden the Padres sheer ineptitude sent me into a controlled rage.

I had to roll up the sleeves of my Michael Kors dress shirt I was so angry.

It was Duaner Sanchez that put me over the top. I sat there and watched him give up back-to-back-to-back doubles to the Cubs' murderers row of Bobby Scales, Aaron Miles and Ryan Dempster, and I just lost it. I immediately composed the following e-mail to my team of trusted advisors: Tam O'Flannel, Tatty Mareeco, Father D.B. McGillicutty and Geleaux.

The subject line was "Duaner Sanchez" and it continued

is no longer a big league pitcher.

Nor is anyone else on the Padres except for Peavy, Young and Bell.

You're probably already aware of this, but that is not a recipe for winning baseball games. Nor is cutting the payroll from 70 million to 40 million without any advanced pitching prospects. I hate Becky Moores and her intolerance for John Moores doing a little dukin' on the side. I really do.

I also hate the elbows of Cesar Carrillo, Nick Schmidt and Steve Garrison, and the shoulder of Tim Stauffer. And I hate the weak sauce of Cesar Ramos and Josh Geer, and the scouts who suggested using high draft picks on college pitchers with weak sauce.

I don't consider myself a "hater," and, to be honest, I don't hate anyone listed in the above e-mail. Nor do I know the true reasons for the Moores' divorce so I apologize for suggesting in any way that John was unfaithful to Becky and it was that that caused their split. I don't know the reasons, and the reasons themselves aren't any of my business (but really, why else would any couple end a marriage of 40 years unless one of them is duking people on the side ... I submit to you there is no other reason).

Truth be told, I'm not really this down on the Padres, but like any true fan I can't stand to sit there and watch my team get beat up over and over again without letting off a little steam. To his credit, Tatty Mareeco recognized this, and responded later in the day with this e-mail:

At least you've got A-Gon. That guy is a Beast. Maybe you can trade him to the Sox for two of Buchholz, Bowden and Masterson and then bring up that 1B prospect you've got. They've got plenty of pitching and might like the bat to replace the artist formerly known as Big Papi.

Yes, at least the Padres have A-Gon. What an absolute monster. He's like Pujols if Pujols was a Mexican-American who played in a pitchers ballpark and had a brother who also played in the major leagues. I can't imagine a Padres team right now without Adrian, which is why I responded to Tatty as follows:

If any team wants AGon and his 45 bombs a year for the next four years at less than 6 million per, they're going to have to give up a treasure trove of top pitching/middle infield prospects. I'm not sure any team has the package necessary to get AGon from the Padres. He's young, has an affordable contract, might be the best power hitter in baseball, and is a San Diegan with Mexican heritage who is the only everyday player anyone in San Diego would consider coming to Petco to see play. Scott Hairston aside.

That's right, I love me some Scotty Hairston. But this post isn't about Scotty, it's about Adrian. There isn't a package of prospects in the world right now the Padres should trade Adrian for, unless maybe Robin Yount, Mike Schmidt and Doc Gooden all of a sudden happened to be prospects again and some team wanted to trade them straight up for him. Then I'd maybe say Moorad should greenlight a deal.

Maybe.

Anyway, I'm already feeling a little better about the Padres after writing this blog post. Blogging is like a warm bath in that you still feel dirty when you're done, but you also feel a lot more relaxed. In that way it's also like a happy ending massage. Or so I've heard.

I sense a win against Cincy tonight.

Best,
Bevormo

Win Today, Pretty Please

C'mon, Padres.

Win one today for ... the Outlaw Josey Wales.

(That has to work.)

Win Tonight, Por Favor

C'mon, Padres.

Win one tonight for ... 1970's Jack Nicholson.

(Let's see if that works.)

Underway In Chicago

The Padres and Cubs are underway at Wrigley tonight with the Padres holding a 2-0 lead on Adrian Gonzalez's first inning 2-run bomb. Jake has pitched well and Kouz made a sweet diving stop to preserve the shutout through 4.

Growing up in Peoria, Illinois, about 3 hours south of Chicago, the (then) bi-annual visit by the Padres to Wrigley was always my favorite time of the season. You'd get to watch the Padres on WGN with the legendary Harry Caray and the great Steve Stone announcing (that is, if you weren't at school ... no Tivo or night games at Wrigley in those hallowed days), and at least once a year my Dad would drive us up to Wrigley for one of the games.

(F. Soriano just doubled home Geovany Soto.)

One of the most memorable moments during those trips involved Leon "Bull" Durham. Before a game in the mid-80s (not sure the exact year), Leon was taking a break from batting practice to sign autographs along the brick wall near the Cubs dugout. A long line of fans weaved up the concrete steps. My Dad and I were near the back of the line but we waited it out and, finally, made it to the point where we were next.

Leon signed an autograph for the guy in front of me and then, stunningly, turned to walk back toward home plate.

I was speechless and my youthful heart, which was pounding in my chest at being that close to a big league ballplayer, almost stopped. I didn't know what to do.

My Dad didn't hesitate.

He yelled out, "Leon! Hey Leon!"

Leon paused his massive frame, looked over his shoulder, and then turned and walked back toward us. He signed my program, then stayed and signed a few more autographs before walking back to get a few more hacks in.

(F. Milton Bradley just crushed a 2-run bomb off Peavy in the bottom of the 6th.)

Leon, for this I will always remember you as a true beast. Thanks, man.

(Notice I didn't mention the error you made in the 7th inning of Game 5 of the 1984 NLCS. You're a beast for that too.)