Former Cleveland Indians Manny Ramirez is the best right fielder Paul Hoynes ever saw
Sunday, July 15, 2007Paul Hoynes Plain Dealer Reporter

The face of the best right fielder I've ever seen was expressionless. On a table in the middle of the visitor's locker room at the Metrodome was his suitcase. It had been slashed over and over again with a knife.

The pale blue suitcase was old and worn, and Manny Ramirez brought it with him from the minors when the Indians called him up on Sept. 1, 1993. All around him was laughter from the veteran Indians, who made fun of the shy rookie and his ruined suitcase. It seemed cruel at the time -- and it still does -- remembering Ramirez's face.

He looked like a high school kid, trying to be brave, not far from tears. The suitcase was too old to buy. A suitcase like that comes from home.

On Sept. 2, 1993, Ramirez made his big-league debut as the Tribe's designated hitter. He went 0-for-4 against Kevin Tapani and Carl Willis in a 4-3 victory over the Twins. Willis is now the Indians pitching coach.

Why the harsh treatment on the day of his debut?

Maybe some of the veterans were afraid. They'd heard about Ramirez all season. When he finally arrived, he did so as Baseball America's Minor League Player of the Year after hitting a combined .333 (163-for-489) with 31 homers and 115 RBI at Class AA Akron and Class AAA Charlotte.

They knew he'd come to take somebody's job.

The Indians roster was filled with Latin American players. Many of them had left home with the same kind of suitcase. It's doubtful any of them were ever welcomed to the big leagues like that, even if Ramirez did get a new suitcase out of the deal.

I know I never saw it happen to another Indians rookie.

The next day, the Indians opened a three-game series against the Yankees in the Bronx, not far from where Ramirez grew up in Washington Heights. A bobbing mass of people in the lower left field grandstand at Yankee Stadium came to greet one of their own. They never stopped gyrating or making noise. They carried signs and chanted as if they were at a soccer game
Ramirez did not disappoint them.

In his first at-bat, Ramirez hit a ground-rule double to left field off Melido Perez for his first big-league hit. In the sixth, he hit his first big-league homer, a two-run drive to right to knock Perez out of the game. In the eighth, he homered again, this time to left field off Paul Gibson.

Ramirez went 3-for-4 with two homers and three RBI in his second game. A career-long affinity for hitting the Yankees, especially at Yankee Stadium, was established.

Ramirez is a lifetime .315 (216-for-686) hitter against New York with 51 homers and 151 RBI. He's hitting.311 (112-for-360) with 26 homers and 72 RBI at Yankee Stadium.

I have seen a lot of great right fielders. If I hadn't picked Ramirez, it would have been Vladimir Guerrero of the Angels. Or maybe Tony Gwynn or Andre Dawson if I'd seen them in their prime.

Ramirez's prime sprung right in front of me. It was impossible to ignore.

Defensively, he certainly wasn't the most graceful right fielder, but he went to the gap and to the line much better than people think. He did not have a great arm, a Juan Gonzalez-type arm, but he almost always hit the cutoff man.

His mistakes became local punch lines. Ramirez did not hide from them.

After dropping a ball in right field one night, he pushed a big plastic laundry cart around the clubhouse the next day.

"Hey, Enrique," he shouted to teammate Enrique Wilson, "how do you like my new glove?"
There was the playoff game at Yankee Stadium, when he splattered himself against the outfield fence, back toward home plate, as if he was Spider Man climbing the fence in chase of an apparent home run by Derek Jeter. The ball hit just below Ramirez's right ankle, about three feet above the ground.

Ramirez, of course, never saw it coming.

In a regular-season game at Yankee Stadium, he gave chase into the right-field corner after a fly ball. While all eyes followed him into the corner, the ball fell about 20 feet behind him on the warning track.

All that was forgotten when Ramirez came to the plate. Everyday living might have sped past Ramirez unchecked, but at the plate, with a bat in his hands, everything slowed to his speed. He never seemed to take a bad swing, look off balance, argue with an umpire or toss his helmet in frustration.

Boos or bad calls didn't bother him because he belonged at the plate.

Charlie Manuel, former Indians hitting coach, once found Kevin Seitzer and Julio Franco working with Ramirez on hitting to right field. Manuel shooed them away as if they were naughty children. He didn't want singles hitters messing with one of baseball's smoothest and hard-earned power swings.

Ramirez, who homered in his final at-bat with the Indians in 2000, has spent the past seven years in Boston. To hear those close to the Red Sox talk, he has become strange and isolated - baseball's Howard Hughes. But I think he's still mostly a shy kid with a one-of-a-kind swing.

Ken Griffey Jr. is Paul's choice in center field

Ken Griffey Jr. is Paul's choice in center field
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Paul Hoynes
Plain Dealer Reporter

He had long ago left the Great Northwest when I finally saw an Indians player hit a ball over the head of the best center fielder I've ever seen.

Ken Griffey Jr. was wearing Cincinnati red and white and years of injuries had turned his legs and hamstrings to shredded wheat. I can't remember the player who did it. I just remember that I'd never seen it before.

When Griffey played for the Seattle Mariners, under the concrete roof of the Kingdome, he caught everything. He had great speed and instincts going back on the ball for a 6-3, 228-pound man. He didn't play deep and there wasn't a center-field wall that scared him.

Griffey's left arm was strong and accurate. There were no humps in his throws to the bases, just a long fluid line, like a bullet train headed into Tokyo with the throttle wide open.

I always thought his throws should have come with a train whistle or a contrail. Runners trying to advance on fly balls to center did so at their own peril.

There are those who say the only reason Seattle still has a big-league club is because of Griffey. They made him the No. 1 pick in the country in 1987 out of Cincinnati Moeller High School.

Two years later, Griffey, all of 19, was in the big leagues to stay. When the Mariners made the postseason in 1995 for the first time in franchise history, Griffey was the center of their universe.

He had, and still has, a great swing. It's a lovely, left-handed swing complete with the upward tilt of a true power hitter. The right-field wall at the Kingdome, where Griffey played his best baseball, was 23-feet high and so close you felt like you could touch it from the press box. It was 357 feet from the plate to right center and 316 feet down the line.

The wall was painted pale blue with out-of-town scores displayed on it. Griffey used his lovely swing to hit homer after homer over that wall.

The dome's artificial turf was fast and worn. There always seemed to be a haze in the air and at times ceiling panels fell to the field. Griffey loved the place.

In one four-year stretch from 1996-99, he hit 209 homers. Here's the breakdown - 49 in '96, 56 in '97, 56 in '98 and 48 in '99.

Griffey spoke quietly, took batting practice wearing his cap backward and his spikes untied. He looked impossibly young and upset traditionalists with the ease in which he approached the game.

When the Mariners played the Indians, he seemed to spend more time on their side of the field than his own. He would talk to Albert Belle, Kenny Lofton and other players while they stretched near the batting cage. In one series at Jacobs Field, several hours before game time, Griffey spent a good 45 minutes in the Indians' locker room talking to players.

I've never seen another player do that before or since.

The Mariners moved out of the Kingdome and into Safeco Field on July 15, 1999.

Safeco Field, with its retractable roof and pitcher-friendly dimensions, was former manager Lou Piniella's dream. He had grown weary of the wild 10-7 games inside the Kingdome and longed for a bigger park that would reward pitching and defense as well as power.

It was not Griffey's favorite place. The heavy sea air settled into the park at night and killed his drives to right field.

The new park may have contributed to Griffey wanting out of Seattle. The Mariners' inability to pay him was a factor as well, which played a role in Randy Johnson being traded in 1998 and Alex Rodriguez becoming a free agent in 2000.

The Mariners traded Griffey to Cincinnati after the 1999 season for five players. He was home, back where his father played for the Big Red Machine, but injuries ravaged him during his prime years.

Griffey, 37, finally relented and moved to right field this year. The swing is still there and 600 homers are within reach this season.

If he had stayed healthy, it might be Griffey instead of Barry Bonds getting ready to break Hank Aaron's record this year. If not this year, he would have certainly been a threat to pass both Bonds and Aaron before retiring.

Vizquel has fun playing the game

Vizquel has fun playing the game
Sunday, April 22, 2007

I've tried not to be a homer in pick ing the best players I've seen while writing about the Indians and Major League Baseball since 1983. Two of my first three choices, Eddie Murray and Robbie Alomar, made stops in Cleveland but spent the majority of their careers elsewhere.

When it came to shortstop, however, I plead guilty. I picked Omar Vizquel, who spent 11 years with the Indians.

The shortstop position has been redefined during Vizquel's career. It started with Cal Ripken Jr., long before Vizquel became an Indian in 1994.

Then came three Ripken clones in Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter and Nomar Garciaparra between 1994 and 1997. Like Ripken, they are tall, strong and hit home runs.

Vizquel is short, 5-9 at best, and has never hit more than 14 homers in a season. But I've never enjoyed watching a player more. Game after game, Vizquel did it better, and smoother, than anyone else.

It is interesting to look back on the standard-bearers for the shortstop revolution. Ripken, who retired in 2001, will enter the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown in July. Garciaparra, old and battered before his time, is playing first base for the Dodgers. Rodriguez, who started this season with 464 homers - Ripken hit 431 - is still trying to get the hang of third base for the Yankees.

Jeter and Vizquel are the only ones still playing short. If I hadn't picked Vizquel, I would have chosen Jeter. Born into the lap of Yankees luxury as a rookie in 1996, few play harder or better when there's a game to be won.

The thing I like most about Vizquel is that he never looks like he's working during a game. He's serious when he needs to be, but most of the time he's smiling like a kid playing ball in the back yard with his buddies.

One night in Kansas City four or five years ago, a limbo contest was being held in the stands between innings. The scoreboard cameras would pick out a fan, who would then try to bend under a digitally enhanced limbo stick. Then the camera found Vizquel fielding grounders at short. Vizquel, laughing, limboed under the stick as the fans cheered.

It was Vizquel's sense of fun that started his long-standing feud with former teammate Jose Mesa. One spring training, during an intrasquad game, Vizquel homered off Mesa and did a cartwheel across home plate. The fans at Chain of Lakes Park laughed and applauded, not knowing that a slow-burning fuse had been lit inside Mesa.

Former General Manager John Hart knew before anyone else what Vizquel would mean to the Indians teams that dominated the American League Central from 1995 through 2001. When he acquired Vizquel from Seattle after the 1993 season, Hart was so excited he made a special trip to Venezuela just to watch Vizquel play winter ball. It was as if Hart had to see Vizquel with his own eyes to confirm that he'd really been able to get him from Seattle for Felix Fermin and Reggie Jefferson.

Vizquel, who won a Gold Glove in Seattle in 1993, won eight more in Cleveland. After signing a three-year deal with San Francisco because the Indians wouldn't pick up his option, he became the oldest shortstop in history to win a Gold Glove in 2005. He topped himself in 2006 by going gold again.

In Cleveland, Vizquel made catching a baseball look easy.

Sometimes, when he was trying to catch a pop-up and the sun was in his eyes, he'd turn his back to the sun and the ball. With the sun blocked, he would catch the ball as it came over his shoulder.

Yankees scout Gene Michael watched Vizquel do that against the Yankees at Jacobs Field and marveled at his creativity.

The best thing I ever saw Vizquel do was in 1994 after he made three errors in a game. The defensive magician had failed in front of his new fans at Jacobs Field.

Vizquel answered every question from a mob of reporters after the game. Jim Thome, just getting started on being the Indians all-time home run leader, had the locker next to Vizquel's. He watched with his eyes and mouth wide open.

To this day Thome will tell you it's the reason he never ducks a question, good or bad, from the media. Thome figured that if a gold-plated shortstop can do it, so can he.

Royally good hitter
THIRD IN A SERIES
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Paul Hoynes
Plain Dealer Reporter
The third basemen that made the biggest impression on me in 24 years of covering baseball were George Brett and Wade Boggs. Maybe it was because they both kissed home plate against the Indians.

On Sept. 29, 1993, a cold night at Kauffman Stadium, Brett singled in the eighth inning to tie the Indians, 2-2. It was his last at- bat in front of the hometown Kansas City fans. The Royals won the game in the ninth, 3-2, and after the winning run scored, Brett was given a ride around the ballpark in a golf cart to say goodbye to more than 31,000 fans.

When the cart reached home, Brett got out, dropped to his knees and kissed the plate.

Boggs became famous with the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees, but he kissed home as a member of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays on Aug. 7, 1999. Boggs, in the sixth inning of 15-10 Indians victory, homered off Chris Haney for his 3,000th hit. He's the only player in the 3,000-hit club to gain entry with a homer.

After stepping on the plate at Tropicana Field, Boggs went to the ground and kissed it. It was his third hit of the night, but just his second homer of the season. In the press box, they handed out cigars in plastic cylinders as mementos. I still have mine.

Brett and Boggs are each in the Hall of Fame. Brett, a left-handed hitter, won three batting titles and had 3,154 hits. Boggs, a left-handed hitter, won five batting titles and finished with 3,010 hits. I picked Brett as the best third basemen I've seen because he hit for more power at a traditional power position.

In 21 seasons, Brett hit 317 homers with 1,595 RBI. Boggs, in 18 seasons, hit 118 homers with 1,014 RBI. Brett was a .337 (56-for-166) hitter in the postseason. Boggs hit .273 (42-for-154) in the postseason.

Neither player was a great third baseman, but they worked at it.

Brett played 1,692 games at third, but spent a lot of time at first base (461 games) and designated hitter (506 games), starting in the middle of his career. Boggs stayed on the hot corner much longer, playing 2,215 games there.

A couple of hours before Brett's last game, he was interviewed by several reporters. He was asked how he'd like the last at-bat of his career to go.

The answer still makes me smile.

My impression of Brett was that he was a Cadillac kind of ballplayer: big head, big home runs, big headlines and big money. He played ornery and always needed a shave.

Brett's answer showed another side of him.

"I'd probably like it to be a ground ball to second base," he said. "I've had over 10,000 at-bats, and I figured I've grounded out to second about 5,000 times.

"A double wouldn't be bad. A homer wouldn't be bad. But a ground ball to second would be perfect. Then I could run like crazy to try and beat the throw to first."

Brett, 40 at the time, was still talking like the hustling rookie whom hitting coach Charlie Lau took under his wing in 1974.

His final at-bat didn't follow Brett's script. The Royals ended the season against the Texas Rangers at old Arlington Stadium on Oct. 3, 1993.

When Brett came to the plate for the last time after going hitless in his first three at- bats, Rangers catcher Ivan Rodriguez told him that Tom Henke was going to throw him nothing but fastballs. Brett singled through the middle on a 1-2 pitch and scored on Gary Gaetti's homer.

"It was the most emotional at-bat I've ever had," Brett told Kansas City reporters. "I knew it was my last one. I could have played one more year but, if I'd played one more year, I'd have played for the money, and the game didn't deserve that."

Alomar pouted, but could play

Alomar pouted, but could play
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Paul Hoynes
Plain Dealer Reporter

Lou Whitaker was the first second base man I saw turn a real big-league double play. It happened on a Sunday afternoon at old Cleveland Municipal Stadium late in a game the Indians were threatening to win.

Whitaker, with runners on first and second base and one out, took a throw from shortstop Alan Trammell. With almost no movement, and his back toward the runner bearing down on him, he stepped on second, pushed himself into the air and became a tiny tornado, twisting above the base before making a throw to first to end the inning.

Doc Edwards, who managed the Indians at the time, pointed out the play after the game. I'd never seen any of his Indians do it because they couldn't.

In a season, outs can look the same game after game. When they are made differently, when someone swerves left instead of right, it leaves an imprint.

In 1983, my first year on the beat, the Indians acquired veteran second baseman Manny Trillo from Philadelphia as part of the Von Hayes trade. Trillo, who'd won three Gold Gloves with the Phillies, did not want to be an Indian and played like it.

He still had his moments.

In a Cactus League game at Hi Corbett Field in Tucson, Ariz., with a runner on second and one out, Trillo moved in a couple of steps and motioned to Toby Harrah to move closer to third base. On cue, the next batter sent a sharp grounder to Trillo. He could have gone to first for the easy out, but instead he went to third. The runner was out by 15 feet.

Whitaker's double play and Trillo's throw to third -- a play I have not seen since -- were my two best memories of second base play until the Indians signed Robbie Alomar as a free agent before the 1999 season. I thought I knew everything there was to know about the best second baseman I've seen.

His duels against the Tribe's Carlos Baerga -- the two Puerto Rican second basemen competed for supremacy of their island every time they played -- were riveting. I saw Alomar help Toronto win consecutive World Series in 1992 and 1993. I saw him spit in umpire John Hirschbeck's face on Sept. 27, 1996, when he played for Baltimore. Alomar then helped the Orioles upset the Indians in the first round of the postseason even though Cleveland fans believed he should have been suspended for the spitting incident.

But nothing prepared me for watching Alomar every day for three years. Not only did he have the ability to do everything required of a baseball player, he actually did it. Here are his Cleveland stats:

1999: .323 batting average, 24 homers, 120 RBI, 138 runs, 37 steals

2000: .310, 19 homers, 89 RBI, 111 runs, 39 steals.

2001: .336, 20 homers, 100 RBI, 113 runs, 30 steals.

1999-2001: Won three straight Gold Gloves.

Alomar could have won the AL MVP award in each of those years. He might have been the best all-around player in baseball in that time frame.

Yet he never seemed happy. He wore a rosary around his neck and had a picture of the Virgin Mary in his locker. He was moody and petulant and, like everyone else, loved to second-guess the manager.

When the opposition pushed Alomar off the plate or knocked him down, he complained to reporters that his manager and teammates weren't protecting him. When Indians reliever Steve Karsay hit one of the Cincinnati Reds in retaliation for Alomar getting hit, he complained that Karsay didn't hit the other player hard enough. It sparked a locker-room argument between Alomar and his older brother, Sandy.

Alomar and shortstop Omar Vizquel, two of the best defenders of their era, worked in frosty perfection on the field. Off the field, they barely spoke.

Was Robbie Alomar a spoiled brat in the clubhouse? Perhaps. A close second to perfection at second base? Definitely.

To reach this Plain Dealer reporter:

phoynes@plaind.com, 216-999-5158.

Best Indians second baseman (after Robbie Alomar) -- Carlos Baerga.

Best of the rest: Frank White, Lou Whitaker, Ryne Sandberg, Craig Biggio, Willie Randolph, Bobby Grich, Jeff Kent, Chuck Knoblauch, Alfonso Soriano.

Eddie was steady first baseman

Eddie was steady first baseman
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Paul Hoynes
Plain Dealer Reporter

My favorite memory of the best first baseman I've seen in 24 years of covering the Indians and Major League Baseball came one spring training in Winter Haven, Fla. While his teammates were sweating under a late February sun, taking batting practice against pitchers for one of the first times since the end of the previous season, Eddie Murray stood behind the cage studying the path of each pitch.

Hitters hate the first few days of BP. The pitchers always have the advantage because they've been in camp a week longer. A hitter's day, in that situation, consists of bad swings, broken bats and avoiding getting hit in the head by some wild-armed, spring-training invitee trying to impress the manager.

Murray, well on his way to the Hall of Fame by that time, knew this. Which is why, along with his seniority, he was excused from the first few days of "live" BP.

When asked when he would start swinging the bat, Murray, showing eloquence, said, "There shall be no wine before its time."

Murray didn't play a lot of first base during his stay with the Indians from 1994 until he was traded in 1996. He was used mostly as a DH, but the man knew what to do with a glove.

He played 2,413 games at first, more games than anyone in history. He wasn't as flashy as contemporary Don Mattingly, who won nine Gold Gloves, but he was more durable and productive.

Murray was nicknamed Steady Eddie during the first 12 years of his career in Baltimore. The yearly numbers were usually just short of flashy, but after 21 seasons, the totals were staggering. Murray, who never hit more than 33 homers or drove in more than 124 runs in a year, became just the third man in history to hit over 500 homers and 3,000 hits when he retired.

Willie Mays and Hank Aaron are the other two.

He drove in 1,917 runs, the most by a switch-hitter, and went to eight All-Star games.

Murray did not like reporters. He spent most of his career in a cold war with them. When he did talk, his words and opinions were enlightening. It just didn't happen enough.

It did not stop him from being a first ballot Hall of Famer because his numbers could not be ignored.

Murray treated teammates and clubhouse staff warmly. At first base, he never shut up when an opposing runner reached base. And he took terrible batting practice.

Hitters as big and strong as the 6-2, 220-pound Murray like to show off in BP. They try to see how far they can hit every pitch. Murray practiced jam shots and flares. He knew he could hit a 65 mph fastball from bullpen coach Luis Isaac out of the park, but he didn't know if he could take that same pitch and dump it 15 feet over the second baseman's head.

It's one of the reasons he finished his career with 3,255 hits.

Murray gave the emerging Indians of the mid-1990s legitimacy. He was one of the few people in the organization not intimidated by Albert Belle. After Belle hit 50 homers and 52 doubles in 1995, he wrote 50-50 on the back of his baseball shoes.

"What's that," asked Murray, "your I.Q.?"

Murray reached 3,000 hits on June 30, 1995 against Minnesota on a single through the right side of the infield. Belle, on second base, stopped at third.

Years after the hit, Murray, the Tribe's hitting coach at the time, was asked what he remembered about the historic hit.

"Albert should have scored," said Murray.

To reach this Plain Dealer Reporter:

phoynesplaind.com, 216-999-5158.

Death by Blunt Instrument

Plenty of off-season decisions await Indians GM Mark Shapiro
Thursday, October 25, 2007Bud ShawPlain Dealer Columnist

Ride it out with C.C. Sabathia or seek to trade him? Baseball post-mortems really are a relaxing, fun time for baseball’s general managers. It’s surprising they don’t enter wearing their pajamas and carrying a tub of popcorn.

Mark Shapiro got roughly 72 hours to come to grips with his disappointment before having to measure his anxiety.

Shapiro said Wednesday the team would address Sabathia’s contract status “sooner than later,” meaning before spring training. But, he said, his inclination if the two sides can’t agree on a new deal is to put the best team possible on the field in 2008, which is difficult to imagine doing without Sabathia.

“He’s been extremely consistent and extremely strong in wanting to be part of this team and part of this community,” Shapiro said Wednesday. “The only question there’s ever been, understanding the magnitude of his success and what it means in a free-agent environment, is there a business deal that makes sense for both him and our ownership that can be struck?”

No small question, that. Sort of like, “What’s the meaning of life?”

Sabathia is entering the final year of his contract. Shapiro thinks it’s “possible” to keep him but it will require “some push” on both ends.

It’s rolling a boulder up a mountain.

But even if they’re far apart when spring training rolls around, I’d keep Sabathia, too. Unless this team is looking up to Kansas City at the trade deadline, you’d keep him until the end and hope it’s not a bitter end.

He will probably win the Cy Young Award over Josh Beckett, since voting concluded before the postseason began. His playoff performance aside, it’s not as if the 2008 season can make him much more marketable than he is today.

- You can’t say he hardly knew Kenny Lofton. But don’t expect him back for a 17th time. Or is it 18? Shapiro wasn’t ready Wednesday to discuss personnel decisions. Lofton, a free agent, gave the Indians exactly what they hoped he’d give them. That did not include a lot of run production, which also wasn’t a surprise.

Corner outfielders are usually prime run producers on a baseball team. At age 40, Lofton certainly isn’t one. The Indians have David Dellucci and Jason Michaels signed.

But even if they didn’t, they’d want a bigger bat in left field.

The Indians won’t miss Lofton anywhere near as much as the fans will.

The Indians have 10 days after the end of the World Series to pick up Paul Byrd’s option. The same goes for Joe Borowski and Aaron Fultz, but Byrd is the tougher call. The league’s interest in talking to him about the HGH issue probably won’t amount to much. HGH is banned in baseball. But they don’t test for it. (Now, there’s a deterrent).

So unless Byrd admits he’s still using it, I don’t see a suspension coming down.

Byrd’s story is sketchy to say the least. But he also won 15 games and along with Jake Westbrook at least gave the Indians two pitchers willing to challenge hitters.

- Was Travis Hafner hurt? That would explain a few things. “No,” said Shapiro. “I think pressure maybe — again it goes back to how much he cares — some of the pressure he feels, he carries that weight with him. He’s a resident of this city. He wants great things for this team and these fans.”

One theory died this season.

Remember early in the year when you wondered if the absence of a long-term deal was affecting Hafner? Not so much.

- Josh Barfield is the one we hardly knew.

“It’s difficult for me to see a team next year that doesn’t have Asdrubal Cabrera playing a significant role on it,” Shapiro said.

And then: “[Cabrera] won’t play shortstop. Jhonny Peralta is our shortstop next year.”

Barfield was overmatched in his first year in the American League. That could change, but he didn’t exactly come close to tearing up the National League either.
- Asked to venture a guess at the 2008 rotation, Shapiro didn’t hesitate . . . after the first three names anyway. Sabathia, Carmona and Westbrook.

The other two will come from a group including Byrd, Cliff Lee, Jeremy Sowers and Aaron Laffey.

Shapiro talked of Lee failing to “make adjustments” early this season as the reason for his demotion.

When the Indians talk about Lee, you get the idea it’s not the strike zone that worries them but the zone between his ears.

- The HGH story was not a distraction that cost the Indians the series. Shapiro called it an issue for him and Byrd, nobody else. He’s right. When you lose, 11-2, and are outscored, 30-5, over the last three games, there’s nothing subtle about it. The autopsy shows death by blunt instrument.