It was just about six months ago that I cast aside my better judgment and heaped praise on Brian Dozier. Dozier plays many roles for the benefit of his teammates. He is the union rep, the self-appointed moral authority, the lead-off man, power hitter and, as it turns out, a self-righteous boor. And yet I admired him toward the end of last season when he boldly railed against the front office decision to dump the highly-travelled pitcher Jaime Garcia after one start with the club.
With that, I dispatched a trenchant insight:
Those of us who have not caught Twins Fever might argue that the accomplished Garcia was not exactly all the team needed for a march toward November. But that’s hardly the point. Dozier, on behalf of his mates, was simply doing what athletes are trained to do, from tee ball to the Bigs.
Never give up.
Make every game count.
Say things like, “I’d play for free if I had to.”
And, of course, then Dozier made a fool of me and himself.
I realize that this is low-hanging fruit, but I am compelled to offer a few observations, if for no other reason than I was so far off course. As it turns out, Dozier not only advocates that teams give up — meaning other teams — but he goes so far as to suggest that persevering against heavy odds is, in fact, intolerable.
Yes, this seems silly and perhaps inconsequential, but, upon second thought, this a more serious matter than first meets the eye. More about that soon.
And, of course, then Dozier made a fool of me and himself.
Now, this is no ordinary petulant millionaire. This is a baseball guy who believes that he is the voice of moral authority for the Twins and perhaps all of baseball. “My real job,” Dozier has said, “is to be a Christian, be the guy that God wants me to be. That’s my main focus. And I pray every day before I play to see Christ living in me today.”
Although I’m a non-believer, I respect everyone’s faith. I just have this naive belief that baseball is baseball and religion is religion. Baseball, like our country, is a pluralistic culture. Many people don’t like that these days, but that’s the way it is. So out of respect for everyone’s right to choose or not choose a deity to whom to pray, it seems like a good idea to keep religion out of the workplace.
So, then, it is in this perspective that we view Dozier’s comments when, in a game versus Baltimore on Sunday, he insisted that catcher Chance Sisco had violated some sort of unwritten rule when he reached first on a bunt with the Twins leading 7-0 in the ninth inning.
Heretics — meaning, as near as I can figure, every single person who commented on Dozier’s petulance — pointed out that, given the fact that the Twins’ infield was using a shift, it was clear that Minnesota was still grinding the gears. Why then, the apostates reasoned, shouldn’t Sisco do whatever he could to give the Orioles a shot at a comeback — meaning, in this case, bunting toward the unoccupied space between second and third base?
As if being wrong wasn’t enough, Dozier proceeded to condescension — the last refuge of a jackass.
“I could’ve said something, but they have tremendous veteran leadership over there, with Chris Davis, Adam Jones and those guys,” Dozier told reporters. “I’m sure they’ll address it and move forward.”
One might have thought that, given a day to reflect, Dozier, would fall on his sword.
Jose Berrios, who had a one-hit shutout going when the offending bunt was executed, was apparently under Dozier’s sway when he insisted that he had no personal objection to the bunt; it was only that “I just know it’s not good for baseball in that situation.” (Insert eye roll.)
But that was Whiny Sunday. As it turned out, Monday was just as bad.
One might have thought that, given a day to reflect, Dozier, would fall on his sword. Aren’t humility and piety conjoined twins (note small “t”)?
Well, not in this case.
Dozier, in fact, just doubled down, suggesting that only he, the holy second baseman, was sagacious enough to understand the situation.
After all, he reasoned, the Orioles didn’t hold Ryan LaMarre at first base after his two-out pinch single in the top of the ninth. “We could have very easily stolen and put up more runs,” Dozier said, “so therefore in return you don’t bunt. That’s what everybody is missing in this whole thing.”
Ah, yes: everyone — except Dozier — is missing the point. Perhaps Dozier is one of baseball’s most profound thinkers. But, if not, it probably should be pointed out that if you think one thing, and the entire universe disagrees, you might want to consider the possibility that you’re wrong.
And this is where we get to the deadly serious part. Bill James, baseball’s father of analytics, put it best when he tweeted that a suspension would be appropriate for “any veteran player (or manager) who makes comments suggesting that a young player is doing something improper when he is simply trying to win. That’s intolerable.”
Indeed. Not trying to win is as corrupt as it gets in any sport — but especially in baseball, because there’s no clock. There is always time for a comeback. Given the explosion of runs and homers — a record 6,105 dingers last year — this is especially true. In fact, in Twins games last year alone, there were 10 occasions on which a team scored at least seven runs in one inning.
The real test of character is to admit your mistake
And not only is bunting a great way to start a rally (if it works) when you need a whole bunch of runs, it is, ahem, a lot smarter than, say, swinging for the fence. I mention this because I’ve seen Dozier try to hit one out in that situation more than a few times. Nice way to pad the stats, but the idea is to get on base.
But anyone can be horribly wrong. The real test of character is to admit your mistake and maybe even apologize for letting your foolish pride get the best of you. That, too, is a test of leadership, and it’s a test that Dozier failed. *
On a more charitable note
Just to be fair (sort of), Dozier is far from a shoo-in to make the Whiners Hall of Fame on the first ballot. Think back, if you can, to 1978 when Pete Rose had a 44-game hitting streak going, along with what seemed like a sure induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. (I would have bet on it.) But with two down and Atlanta leading 16-4, Braves pitcher Gene Garber faced Rose. Garber knew that he had a shot at being remembered as the guy who broke Rose’s hitting streak. If Garber failed, he had a shot at not being remembered at all.
Garber could have just heaved three pitches far from the strike zone, knowing that Rose would have to swing in order to keep the streak alive. But Garber didn’t do that, instead playing by something far more profound than an unwritten rule. No, Garber just did the only decent thing. He gave Rose a shot, hitting the strike zone with a couple of pitches before, on a 2-2 count, Garber threw his strikeout pitch — a change-up — and Rose swung and missed.
Back in the clubhouse, Rose fumed, suggesting that a real man would have thrown a steady diet of fastballs. “They were pitching me like it was the seventh game of the World Series,” Rose said.
It wasn’t all bad for Rose. He was able to make some serious cash selling the bat he used to extend his streak to 44 games. In fact, legend has it that he sold the same bat to many different collectors. The lesson: never trust a man who complains about another guy who is just doing his job.
