They Called Him 'Mister Cub'

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"There's sunshine, fresh air and the team's behind us. Let's play two!"

Ernie Banks
Hall of Fame induction speech, 1977

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In the hearts of baseball fans, Ernie Banks will always be a Chicago Cub. "Mister Cub," they called him.

You don't often see a professional athlete who spends his entire career with a single team, especially someone whose big–league career lasted as long as Banks' did, but he spent all 19 years of his major–league career with the Cubs. I have heard him called the greatest baseball player who never played in the postseason. (He is almost 1,000 games ahead of his nearest competition on the list of players with most games played without a postseason appearance.)

You see, the Cubs haven't been to a World Series since 1945, and they haven't won one since 1908.

The Cubs came close to getting into the playoffs in 1969 (Banks retired in 1971), but they were overtaken by the "Amazin' Mets." It would have been nice to see him play in the postseason, but it would have to have been as a Cub; after all the seasons of futility he endured with the Cubs, it is impossible to imagine Banks in any other major–league uniform.

It isn't necessary to do so, of course, just as it isn't necessary to imagine Brett Favre playing in any uniform other than his Green Bay uniform. He started his career in Atlanta and finished it in New York and Minnesota.

Banks died in Chicago yesterday. He was born right here in Dallas, Texas, on January 31, 1931, grew up here, graduated from high school here.

So we could lay equal claim to him, I suppose. But once baseball took him away, as nearly as I can tell, he never returned. Oh, he probably came back for visits, but I don't think he ever lived here again. Once he got to Chicago, he stayed there.

It's hard for a Southern boy like me to understand how someone could be attracted to a place like Chicago with its frigid winters and a wicked wind that comes howling in from Lake Michigan year 'round. But it was Banks' adopted home, and he became the city's biggest booster.

Banks "enjoyed a love affair with Wrigley Field and its fans unlike any other in baseball," wrote Chris De Luca of the Chicago Sun–Times. While such a thing would be hard to prove, I am nevertheless inclined to agree with that.

I used to be more of a baseball fan than I am today, and I was never a Cubs fan. But I was in my baseball–card–collecting phase in the last years of Banks' career, and there were certain players whose cards I always wanted to get — and became my most cherished possessions once I did get them.

Banks' card was one of them, along with guys like Willie Mays and Hank Aaron and Brooks Robinson, who was always something of an icon in central Arkansas, having been born in Little Rock. When I was a kid, central Arkansas was (and, I am sure, still is) St. Louis Cardinals territory so Lou Brock and Bob Gibson were always popular with the baseball card crowd — and Chicago Cubs were the Cardinals' rivals so few Cubs cards were regarded as valuable by the guys with whom I hung out.

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Nevertheless, Banks' card transcended such team loyalty boundaries.

Ernie Banks was one of baseball's gentlemen, an eternally optimistic soul who probably started every major–league season believing it would end with him playing in the World Series.

As I say, that never happened. I suppose that kind of bad luck could leave a player feeling bitter, but as nearly as I can tell, he was always the unflagging optimist.

Rest in peace.

Everything Old Is New Again

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One hundred years ago today, Wrigley Field (known then as Weeghman Park) hosted its first baseball game. It was the home of the Chicago Whales of the Federal League.

In the first half of the 1920s, it was known as Cubs Park, and it was the home of the National League's Chicago Cubs — as it still is today. In November 1926, it was renamed Wrigley Field after chewing gum bigwig William Wrigley Jr., who owned the Cubs at the time.

"Most of what we know of Wrigley Field came to be in 1937," writes Tim Newcomb for Sports Illustrated, "when then–owner P.K. Wrigley urged Cubs general manager Bill Veeck to spruce up the stadium, which had already been renovated in 1921 and 1926. ... The owner wanted a park–like setting, similar to what he'd seen in trips to ballparks in California. That vision gave us the park we know today, complete with ivy, a brick outfield wall and a scoreboard."

When a sports venue has existed for a century, it is to be expected that it has hosted its share of luminaries, but Wrigley may have had more than its share in that time. Many stadiums have doubled as homes for baseball and football. Wrigley has truly been an all–purpose facility.

"Wrigley has also hosted professional boxing, professional soccer, college football (Northwestern and DePaul have both called it home) and even a ski jump competition from the upper deck in 1943," Newcomb writes. "All those events, not to mention a visit from every National League team since 1916 (and Michael Jordan once during his baseball days, the only big–league stadium he played in), have brought a who's who of visitors through the locker room."

Only Fenway Park, which observed its centennial a couple of years ago, is older, but Fenway is home to an American League club. In the National League, no stadium is as old as Wrigley Field. Not even close.

In a season that has already saluted the 40th anniversary of Hank Aaron's record–setting home run, baseball has another milestone in Chicago today — and lots of folks will be on hand to celebrate.

The game will match the Cubs and the Arizona Diamondbacks. This may be the brightest the spotlight will shine on these teams all year. After last Sunday's games, both teams were already eight games behind their divisions' leaders.

The teams are unimportant. A game must be played, and Commissioner Bud Selig will be there to see it, as will several noteworthy Cubs, such as Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Andre Dawson, Fergie Jenkins.

"The first 30,000 fans will receive a replica 1914 Chicago Federals jersey," reports MLB.com, "and the first 10,000 fans will get a birthday cupcake."

WGN will be on hand to provide coverage of the big event — which, appropriately, will take place during the day. Until 1988, all the games that were played in Wrigley Field were played in the day. But lights finally were installed in 1988, and the ballpark joined the rest of the baseball world and began scheduling night games.

Day games are still played at Wrigley Field, and today's game will be played in chilly but sunny conditions, according to the forecasters.

It's funny, but I never realized before that Wrigley Field and Harry Caray, the longtime announcer for Cubs games, were born less than two months apart. Caray was born in March 1914.

It does seem appropriate, though.

The Centennial of Baseball's Showman

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"I know it's the fans that are responsible for me being here. I've always tried in each and every broadcast to serve the fans to the best of my ability."

Harry Caray

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In ballparks in Florida and Arizona, spring training games are being played, perhaps as you read this — the perfect time for a man like Harry Caray to have a birthday.

In fact, March 1 was his birthday. If he was still alive, Caray would have been 100 years old today. And I think he would want to spend it at a ballgame where he could feel the sun on his face, smell the dirt and grass of the ballpark and hear the crack of a bat meeting a ball.

But he's been gone awhile.

When Caray was alive, watching the Cubs on WGN was must–see TV. It didn't matter how good or — more often — how bad they were. Having Caray to call the game was worth it.

People used to talk about how influential Ted Turner was in the early days of cable, and there certainly was truth in that. But don't underestimate Caray's contribution, especially in the days before cable coverage blanketed sports and it became possible to see one's favorite teams — in almost any sport — virtually whenever they played.

For awhile there, only the Chicago Cubs and the Atlanta Braves could be seen just about whenever — and wherever — they played. WGN in Chicago was one of cable's first superstations, along with Turner's WTCG in Atlanta, and their baseball coverage was one of their biggest selling points. As a Dodger fan, that meant that I could see the Dodgers play whenever they faced the Cubs or the Braves since all three were National League clubs (and, with the exception of spring–training games, the only inter–league games in those days were World Series games). It also meant that the Cubs and Braves gained new fans from all across the country every year.

The Yankees and Cardinals probably remained the two most popular franchises, but they suddenly faced competition from the Cubs and the Braves. Caray had a lot to do with that. He was the familiar face of the Cubs, and fans associated his seventh–inning renditions of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" with his Cub broadcasts. Folks were singing that song long before he came along, but Caray redefined that tradition while broadcasting White Sox games.

He was a homer, no doubt about it, and he embraced that role with relish. He didn't apologize for it, either. He didn't pretend to be objective. He seemed to understand that was part of the show.

When you work nights, weekends and most holidays, as I did when I worked on the sports desk of the Arkansas Gazette, you have to take your perks where you find them, and one of the perks for me was the fact that, when they were playing in the afternoon, I could watch most of the Cubs' games before I had to leave for work. I got to enjoy six, maybe seven innings of Caray and the Cubs.

In those days, I hoped to someday visit Chicago and take in a game at Wrigley Field, just to be able to watch Caray lead the crowd in "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh–inning stretch, but I never made it. Sixteen years ago, Caray collapsed in a restaurant, reportedly struck his head on a table and died four days later.

Lots of folks probably thought that there couldn't be a show without Caray — but the show went on after he had a stroke that kept him out of the booth for a couple of months. A steady parade of celebrities, many with local ties, filled in as guests until he returned. Some were good, most were not, but I think nearly all viewers would agree that none came close to matching Caray.

Perhaps it was because he understood the mentality of the Chicago sports fan.

"Chicago people are kind of fatalistic, but they continue to hope that somehow some way the Cubs will shock even them and win it just one time," he said. "Their fatalism allows them to enjoy the team's success, knowing that one horrible thing will happen down the line to rip the rug out from underneath them."

There are some sports announcers whose voices you just associate with certain sports and/or teams. When I was growing up in Arkansas, that voice was Bud Campbell's; whenever I heard it and regardless of what the calendar said, I felt like it must be an autumn Saturday and the Razorbacks must be about to begin a game against a Southwest Conference rival.

National broadcasts on TV and radio have had their own announcers who were known and loved by millions. Whenever I heard Curt Gowdy's voice, I felt like it had to be a summer's day and NBC's game of the week must be on — even though Gowdy did work some football games from time to time.

Caray's voice was like that for me. It just seemed natural to hear him speak of the Cubs and Wrigley Field — even though he was born in St. Louis.

It's been too long since I've heard that distinctive voice.

The Race to Break Maris' Record

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There are two things I will always remember about the summer of 1998 — the worst heat wave in nearly 20 years that gripped most of the country and the duel between St. Louis' Mark McGwire and Chicago's Sammy Sosa to see who would break Roger Maris' 37–year–old single–season home run record.

(Maris, as baseball historians will tell you, broke Babe Ruth's single–season home run record in 1961, but he benefited from the fact that baseball seasons were 162 games by then, not 154 as they were in the Bambino's day. And for many, many years, Maris' record had an asterisk next to it in the record book because it was not achieved in 154 games.)

The home run chase made that summer of '98 memorable. Well, the heat wave did, too. It was the worst heat wave I've seen since 1980. But the McGwire–Sosa duel was truly riveting. If one had to stay inside because it was so miserably hot outside, watching SportsCenter for the latest update in the home run chase was worth one's time. And there was almost always a daily update.

In hindsight, one must wonder if the '98 home run chase would have happened at all if not for steroids.

In fact, McGwire did concede at the time that he used an over–the–counter substance that had been banned by, among others, the NFL — but not (at that time) major league baseball.

(McGwire was slipperier on his use of other substances.)

So my feeling is that the '98 season should have an asterisk next to it — or maybe it would be more appropriate to have a little syringe instead — in the record books.

But it doesn't, and it probably won't so 1998 will stand as the year that McGwire broke Maris' record. McGwire was eclipsed three years later by Barry Bonds, who has his own unanswered questions about steroid use, but 15 years ago today, McGwire was on his way to wrapping up the home run–hitting season of a lifetime.

("These long–ball extravaganzas were putting fans back in the seats," Greg Stejskal wrote recently in the New York Daily News, "but the cost was the integrity of the game.")

McGwire hit 70 home runs that year. No one before — and only one man since — hit that many home runs in a single season. (That year, in fact, Bonds hit slightly more than half as many home runs as McGwire.)

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That summer, I was working for a trade magazine that served the imprinted sportswear industry. Part of my job was attending trade shows in different parts of the country, and I recall attending a show in Chicago. Exhibitors at these shows were often regional representatives of licensed sports products, and major league baseball was a hot (pardon the expression) commodity in Chicago that summer.

At these shows, I would walk around the hall and sit down to interview exhibitors who caught my eye. As a former sports editor, I was particularly interested in these sports licenses. Major league baseball had a crippling strike a few years earlier, and there had been talk that baseball's popularity was on the decline.

The McGwire–Sosa home run derby was the first thing to breathe some life back into the sport. It was baseball's goose that laid the golden egg.

And the exhibitors were all too eager to talk about McGwire and Sosa — but none, that I can recall, had any interest in talking about steroids.

If they were concerned that I might quote them on the subject in one of my articles, they worried needlessly. I only asked because I'm a sports fan, and I like baseball (although not as much as I did when I was a boy).

Maris' record finally fell 15 years ago today, about three weeks before the scheduled end of the season. McGwire had broken the record in far fewer games than it took Maris — or Ruth, for that matter. That should have raised some red flags.

But, like the exhibitors I spoke to that summer, no one wanted to talk about steroids. Not the teams' management or coaches or players — or fans, for that matter. They wanted to talk about all the home runs, not the steroids that even a casual observer could conclude had made them possible.

The thought of steroids definitely crossed my mind in the summer of '98, but, as I say, I never found anyone who was interested in talking about that angle.

Perhaps now those people have learned that there is a frightful price to be paid for ignoring an approaching storm. It's like ignoring a persistent toothache, hoping it will go away. (In the words of writer Aldous Huxley, "Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.")

But then I remember — that's the kind who never learn from the past.

One More For The Road

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As I have mentioned here before, I have been a Dodger fan since I was a boy.

Most of the time, it hasn't been very satisfying — kind of like most of the years that I spent as a Packer fan when I was growing up.

Twenty–five years ago, though, the Dodgers won it all. They confounded all the experts, who were convinced that the mighty Oakland A's would prevail.

During their late–season run in 1988, the Dodgers were led by pitcher Orel Hershiser, who threw 59 consecutive scoreless innings, breaking the major–league record that had been held by Don Drysdale for 20 years.

The baseball playoffs won't start for a couple of months, but I'm kind of having the same sensation this year that I had in 1988.

After a rough start to the season, the Dodgers have bounced back and surged to the lead in the National League West. OK, that's a team accomplishment, not an individual one, but I really like what they've been doing lately.

Yesterday, they matched the team record (which stood since 1924) for consecutive road wins — 13. As Steve Dilbeck of the Los Angeles Times pointed out, it was the longest road winning streak in the National League since the Philadelphia Phillies won 13 in a row in 1976.

Until today. The Dodgers beat the Chicago Cubs, 1–0, for their 14th straight win.

Having set a team record for consecutive road wins, I suppose the next thing for the Dodgers to do is take aim at the NL's all–time record of 17 set by the New York Giants in 1916.

We'll find out in the next few days if the Dodgers can set a new league record. They play a four–game series in St. Louis starting tomorrow.

Eventually, I know the road win streak will end. But when it started, the Dodgers were 16–24 on the road. Twenty–seven road games remain to be played now, and the Dodgers only need to win about two–fifths of them to have a winning record on the road.

And tonight, the Dodgers are 5½ games ahead of the slumping Arizona Diamondbacks in the NL West.

Billy Buck's Boo-Boo

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At one time or another, I guess, most American boys play organized baseball.

And most probably fantasize about driving in the run that wins the World Series for their teams.

If that is the dream, then what happened to Bill Buckner on this night 25 years ago is the nightmare.

Buckner's Boston Red Sox were one out away from ending a World Series drought that had existed since 1918. In fact, the scoreboard in New York's Shea Stadium flashed a congratulatory message — briefly.

But that turned out to be premature.

The Mets, who had given up two runs in the top of the 10th, scored a run, then had the tying run on third and the winning run on first. Mookie Wilson was at the plate against a new pitcher, who threw a wild pitch, scoring the tying run and putting the winning run at second.

Wilson then hit a slow grounder in the direction of veteran first baseman Bill Buckner, who seemed sure to make the play. But the ball took a strange hop just before it got to Buckner and rolled into the outfield, allowing Ray Knight to score the winning run from second.

The cameras almost immediately zeroed in on home plate, where Knight was scoring the winning run, but they lingered for a few seconds on Buckner after the ball got away from him, providing the image I will always remember from that night — Buckner standing forlornly at first while his teammates scrambled to retrieve the ball in the outfield.

My instinct would have been to run after that ball, even if I knew deep in my heart that there was no way I could reach it before one of the other players did — and, even more importantly, before Knight could score that winning run. My mind wouldn't let me accept that the die had been cast, that it was over.

But it was as if Buckner realized, in that split second when the ball took its inexplicable jump, that it was over, and he was resigned to the abuse that he knew would come his way.

Actually, it wasn't the end of the Series. The Red Sox brought a 3–2 lead to New York and needed to win either Game 6 or Game 7. The game that was played 25 years ago tonight was only the sixth game. The Red Sox could have won the seventh game and been world champions, but the pitching staff fell apart, as it had been inclined to do against the Mets.

As it did in Game 6 when that wild pitch allowed the tying run to score.

It wasn't Buckner's fault that Boston lost that seventh game, either. He went two for four at the plate and committed no errors in the field. In fact, Buckner even scored a run in Boston's comeback attempt in the late innings, but it simply wasn't enough.

Besides, the Mets were favored to win that Series before it began — and they weren't slight favorites, either. The Mets were heavy favorites that year.

The fact that the Mets won it was no real surprise. What was surprising was the way that title was won.

I knew it was a bitter experience for Red Sox fans — to be so close and see it slip through their fingers — and I empathized with them. But that did not excuse how they treated Buckner when the Series was over.

One would have thought he was a latter–day Shoeless Joe Jackson — except Shoeless Joe at least got the gamblers' money. As far as I can see, Billy Buck got nothing but abuse.

Say it ain't so, Billy Buck. But it was so. It just wasn't intentional.

What happened 25 years ago tonight had to be one of the strangest finishes of any game in World Series history — and it was almost immediately taken to be the latest confirmation of the existence of the "Curse of the Bambino" — the superstitious belief that, when the Red Sox sold Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees, a "curse" was put on the franchise, preventing it from winning a championship.

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I always felt it was unfair for Buckner to be subjected to the abuse of the frustrated Boston baseball fans — just as I always thought it was unfair when the fans of another long–suffering baseball franchise blamed their team's 2003 postseason defeat on a fellow fan's innocent reach for a foul ball.

Team sports are precisely that — team sports. On extremely rare occasions, a team's loss is clearly the fault of a single player or an official's bad call; on even rarer occasions, a loss is the fault of an innocent bystander.

Most of the time, though, it is the result of a team effort. Teams win and lose as teams.

Whether such a thing as the "Curse of the Bambino" ever really existed, the Red Sox, who had won several titles before selling Ruth to the Yankees, went on to lose the 1986 World Series to the other New York team.

The Sox did not win another title until 2004. The Yankees, meanwhile, became the most successful franchise in major league baseball after acquiring the Babe.

I don't know if that was a curse, but 25 years ago tonight, Buckner probably would have told you that it sure wasn't a blessing.

Anyway, after the perceived "curse" was gone, the Red Sox were just another team again, and they were free to play ball without the weight of all those years on their shoulders.

A few years later, they won another title, and no one, as I recall, said anything about a "curse." As he watched the Series, Buckner (who, ironically, played for the Cubs before coming to Boston) may have thought about it and reflected that 21st century ball players don't know the meanings of the words pressure, expectations and superstition.

But the following spring, Buckner participated in the unfurling of the world championship banner at Boston's Fenway Park. The fans gave him a standing ovation, and Buckner later spoke of a sense of closure that came from being in the ballpark on that day.

"I really had to forgive, not the fans of Boston, per se, but I would have to say in my heart I had to forgive the media for what they put me and my family through," he said.

And now, Billy Buck's boo–boo is a part of baseball lore.

Ronnie, They Hardly Knew Ye

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I heard yesterday that Ron Santo had died — and, while I have never been a Chicago Cubs fan, I mourn the loss.

Santo actually died on Thursday — in a hospital in Arizona — but I didn't hear about it until Friday. Apparently, he lived in the Southwest during the offseason, but for more than 20 years, he had been announcing Cubs baseball for WGN radio.

Unless you're older than 40, though, you have no memory of the days when Santo played third base for the Cubs, and, for most folks who are old enough to remember but didn't live in Chicago, I guess, that memory would be spotty at best.

Santo's career ended several years before cable TV. There were no baseball telecasts every day of the week during the season when he played, only a single "game of the week" on Saturday afternoons, and many solid ballplayers in his era were virtually unseen by most fans outside their local fan base.

I was old enough to collect baseball cards in the latter years of Santo's career, and I saw him play once when my family went to St. Louis and watched the Cardinals play the Cubs one warm summer night. The Cubs absolutely hammered the Cardinals that night, much to the dismay of the Busch Stadium crowd, but we stayed to the end, long after many of the Cardinals fans had departed.

It had been my first major league ballgame. I don't remember if Santo hit a homer that night. He may have because the score was something like 12–0. I remember hearing his name a lot. If he wasn't hitting home runs, maybe he was getting some hits — or at least fielding a lot of grounders.

He did it all, really. He was an All–Star nine times, and he won five straight Gold Glove awards.

He could hit home runs, too. He hit 342 in his career, a number that may seem pedestrian by today's standards but it stood as a testament to power hitting in the pre–steroids era.

Yes, I knew who Santo was when I was a child. I knew who most of the ballplayers of those days were, the famous and the not so famous, because I collected the cards. And I thought I knew a lot about all the ballplayers because I had their cards.

But I continue to learn how little I really did know. And it reminds me of the truth of something Harry Truman once said — The only thing new in the world is the history you don't know.

I didn't know, for example, that Santo played professional baseball while concealing the fact that he had diabetes. But he did.

It is said that Santo died of complications from bladder cancer so diabetes is not being blamed. But diabetes may have caused those complications. I don't know. He was diagnosed with diabetes when he was 18, and he was 70 when he died the other day.

And I know that diabetes ultimately led to the amputations of both his legs in recent years.

He kept his diabetes secret from his teammates and team management at first, then continued to keep it a secret from the public until near the end of his career. I don't remember hearing about it until after he had retired, probably because I didn't live near Chicago.

Many folks outside Chicago also didn't know about his charitable work. I didn't.

"People would ask me whether I knew Ron Santo," writes Rick Morrissey of the Chicago Sun–Times, "and my response was always the same: 'Yes, and so do you.'

" ... [H]e never did get the things he wanted so badly: a Cubs World Series title and a plaque in Cooperstown, N.Y. But what a good life he led, 70 years' worth, and he knew it."

Santo never stopped believing that both of those dreams would someday come true. They didn't come true in his lifetime.

And, while I can't say that I'm particularly eager to see the Cubs win a World Series, I do hope Santo is recognized by the Hall of Fame — soon.

He deserves it.

Here Are My Playoff Predictions

Milwaukee and Philadelphia are due to get the baseball postseason started in a couple of hours.

And I want to get in my first-round predictions before the first pitch is thrown.

In the National League:

• Milwaukee vs. Philadelphia: Both teams performed well at home, winning about three-fifths of the time. The Phillies played a little better on the road than the Brewers did.
  
  Both teams were pretty weak at the plate. The Phillies were 10th among the 16 N.L. clubs with a .255 average. The Brewers were 12th with a .251 average.
  
  According to the old saying, though, pitching and defense win championships. There have been exceptions, but that certainly seems to be true in short series.
  
  If it becomes a matter of pitching, who has the edge between the Brewers and the Phillies? Based on the numbers, it looks pretty close. For that matter, the top four teams in the N.L. in ERA are the same four teams who are in the playoffs. Milwaukee had a 3.85 ERA during the season, the Phillies had a 3.88 ERA. Pitching should be pretty strong in the N.L.'s playoff games.
  
  The bullpen appears to be about equal, with Milwaukee getting 45 saves during the season and Philadelphia getting 44.
  
  I predict it will go five games and I'll give the edge to the team with the homefield advantage — Philadelphia.


• Los Angeles Dodgers vs. Chicago Cubs: Hands down, the Cubs were the best home team in the National League, winning two-thirds of their games at Wrigley Field. The Dodgers were pretty good at home, too, winning a little more than 59% of the time.
  
  On the road, the Cubs had a winning record (winning 52% of their games) while the Dodgers won less than 45% of their road games.
  
  The Cubs had the best team batting average of any team in the playoffs — in either league (.278) — and their pitchers' ERA was a respectable 3.87, which was fifth-best in the majors (although it trails the Dodgers' 3.68 ERA, the best in the National League).
  
  Those numbers should suggest an easy Cubs win. In fact, they should suggest an easy win against the Dodgers and another easy win against either the Phillies or the Brewers, making a trip to the World Series virtually inevitable.
  
  But these are the Cubs we're talking about. When you look up "futility" or "error-prone" — or "curse" — in the dictionary, you should see the Cubs logo.
  
  History tells me that, because we're talking about the Cubs, we will see a magnificent collapse. And, if history provides any indication of what to expect, it will be grander and more heartbreaking than any of the Cubs' previous collapses.
  
  So my question is, will the Cubs collapse against the Dodgers and their N.L.-leading ERA? Or will they win in the first round, only to wilt against either the Phillies' league-leading home run hitters or the Brewers' pitchers, with their 3.85 ERA and league-most complete games?
  
  I'm going to guess that they'll end the suspense quickly and lose in the first round to the Dodgers, three games to two.

In the American League:

Chicago White Sox vs. Tampa Bay: Tampa Bay had better winning percentages at home (70% to 66%) and on the road (49% to 43%) than the White Sox did.

The White Sox led the league in home runs, but, other than that, neither team's offense was at the top of the A.L. charts. The Sox were 11th of 14 teams and the Rays were 13th in batting average. Tampa Bay showed pretty good speed during the season, leading the A.L. in stolen bases, but their problem was getting on base in the first place, ranking 13th in base hits.

The key, in addition to winning percentages at home and on the road, may be found in pitching. Tampa Bay was second in the league in ERA (Chicago was sixth), tied for third in complete games (Chicago was 11th) and virtually tied for third in strikeouts with the White Sox (Chicago had 1,147 while Tampa Bay had 1,143).

If it comes down to the bullpen, Tampa's relievers recorded the A.L.'s second-best tally in saves (52) while Chicago was 12th in that category (34).

Plus, Chicago may be a little tired after having to play two additional games on Monday and Tuesday just to qualify for the playoffs while everyone else was resting and licking their wounds.

I pick Tampa in four games.


• Boston vs. Los Angeles Angels: Boston was a stronger team at home than Los Angeles, winning 69% of the time in Fenway Park while the Angels won about 62% of the time at home. Boston struggled on the road, winning 48% of its games while the Angels again won about 62% of the time.
  
  At the plate, the Red Sox had a better year than the Angels, recording a higher batting average of .280 to Los Angeles' .268. Boston was sixth in the league in home runs (L.A. was ninth), but the Angels finished second in steals (129), just ahead of Boston (120).
  
  Who has the edge in pitching? L.A.'s ERA was 3.99 while Boston's was 4.01. The Angels' bullpen led the A.L. in saves with 66; Boston was a distant third with 47. But Boston led the league in strikeouts with 1,185, while the Angels were sixth in the A.L. with 1,106.
  
  It doesn't really seem to matter to the Angels whether they're at home or on the road. The Red Sox will be competitive, but I pick the Angels to win in four games.

Enjoy the playoffs!

Almost Set Now

Sunday was the last day on the major league baseball schedule, and the initial pairings in the playoffs are almost set now.

It's a done deal in the National League.

The Los Angeles Dodgers will play the Chicago Cubs at Wrigley Field in the opener of their series on Wednesday. Milwaukee and Philadelphia will open their series that afternoon in Philadelphia.

Likewise, the American League's playoff schedule is almost complete now.

Today, the Chicago White Sox and the Detroit Tigers have to play a makeup game. If Chicago wins, the White Sox will be tied for the A.L. Central title and will play host to the Minnesota Twins in a one-game playoff tomorrow. If Chicago loses today, the Twins win the division and the final playoff berth.

The winner of the A.L. Central will travel to A.L. East champion Tampa Bay for the series opener on Thursday. Meanwhile, the other A.L. playoff series begins Wednesday when the Boston Red Sox travel to Los Angeles to take on the Angels.