Cleaning house

Sean Taylor
It appears the cops are fairly resolute on this being a non-premeditated murder, which I suppose makes much of the speculation — mine included, featured right below this post — appear hasty and flat wrong.

OK.

I'm not going to apologize for what I said because I still feel there's logic behind it. Readers will, by this point, be familiar with my love of William of Occam, and his fine razor. The simplest answer, in this case, was that Sean Taylor's off-the-field history likely played a role in his eventual demise. I agree with many critics of the media's coverage that attempting to draw conclusions about Taylor — as a person, or in regard to his demise — based on his on-field behavior reeks of prejudice, and not necessarily in the racial sense (though it would be foolish to say that's absolutely not the case, either). But I disagree with those crowing "See! I told you so!" to those who stated the obvious in the early days after his death, which is that Taylor had a history of being both the alleged victim and perpetrator of gun violence. And that's not even getting into the break-in a week prior, the remnants of which involved what can only be construed as a threat of violence. I'll be curious to see how that situation is ultimately reconciled by investigators when it's all said and done, if it's to be reconciled at all.

I'm also going to say this — and I know I'm likely to catch shit for it — before being done with the matter of Taylor's death: I still have trouble buying it. It would make perfect sense for the perpetrators to represent their crime as a burglary gone bad, as a lack of premeditation serves as a mitigating circumstance when it comes to murder. Of course, it's not just the perps saying this; I would like to believe the police wouldn't simply buy into what's been confessed and leave it at that. But without getting all conspiracy theorist on everyone here, if this is a coincidence, it's a hell of a coincidence. And I'm not the only person who thinks so. But that's also largely irrelevant, so I'll leave it at that.

There are a ton of other issues that Taylor's death has brought up, however, w/r/t black athletes, the perception of black athletes by the media and fans, and the fairly shocking mortality rates for young black men that Taylor's death has suddenly made everyone aware of. I'm not going to pretend I'm capable or willing of attacking all with the correct gravity right now, but maybe I'll break them up and tackle them another day. I am going to say this, however: If you believe that race isn't an issue, you are allowing your desires to cloud your perception of reality. Race is not only an issue, it might be the issue. And I don't see why acknowledging that, or talking about it, is met with shouts, because it's that reaction that guarantees the "race isn't an issue" people will continue to be very, very wrong. I'm not saying everyone has to agree on the conclusions, only that the argument is worth having.

The Patriots
Two sub-par performances in a row against teams that strain to be considered mediocre (unless we're actually willing to grant that the Eagles' and Ravens' performances against the Patriots suggest that, perhaps, they're better than just mediocre ... perhaps they've been unlucky?). But, still, two wins. And what's surprising to me is that, amid the speculation and desire to assign the 2007 Patriots a legacy despite the presence of, potentially, seven more games to go, everyone seems to have forgotten how fucking hard it is to win a football game in the NFL.

That statement can serve as an age-old truism — I mean, there's a reason there's been one undefeated team in the history of the league, and that team had one of the weakest schedules in the league that season — or you can make it specific to this era. It's difficult to describe to people who haven't been exposed to the inner workings of a professional or college football team just how staggering the technology at the disposal of coaches is in the modern era. The days of the single game tape are long gone; teams have the opportunity to dissect teams using the standard two cameras (one sideline, one end zone) operated by the home team at each game, television tapes and advance scouting reports in addition to the sheer volume of information that fans have access to as well. There are no secrets in football anymore, especially when it comes to schemes. To top it all off, coaches generally spend about 80 hours planning for each game, which would cause one to expect some advancement in approach against a particular opponent as the season wears on.

The Patriots, at some point, were going to have these kinds of games. I'm a little surprised that they came in a pair, but the timing shouldn't really be a concern. Nor should the opponents; while the Eagles and Ravens are well on their way to incredibly disappointing campaigns, they're not the Dolphins, either. Both teams schemed well in an effort to exploit their strengths and the Pats' weaknesses. Both had the Pats on the ropes. Both looked like they might pull it off.

And they didn't.

I have no idea what's going to happen for the rest of this season, which is why I'm willing to wait before making any affirmative statements about the Pats' "greatness." But I will say this: If New England wins out, regardless of margins of victory of heart palpitations on the part of Tony Kornheiser, they're the greatest team in the history of the NFL. But I really have trouble believing that's going to happen. It's just too hard.

On instant replay
Twice this week, games with big playoff implications were decided by questionable calls. The Packers lost because of a pass interference call that cost them close to 50 yards that appeared to be a case of tangled feet, which does not constitute pass interference. The Browns lost when Kellen Winslow was ruled out-of-bounds on a game-tying touchdown reception, despite the fact he was clearly forced out of bounds.

The pass interference call wasn't reviewed, because you can't review pass interference. The Browns' touchdown was reviewed, but not to determine if it was a force-out, because that's not reviewable either.

What bullshit.

We're told that those plays aren't reviewable, because they're "judgement calls." The same goes for field goal tries, holding, and facemask penalties. What distinguishes these plays from non-judgement calls is not readily apparent to me. Does the term suggest that the definitions of the infractions are highly subjective? If that's the case, those definitions should be reconsidered. But I think we all know they're not subjective, they're just difficult to call consistently. And that makes sense; being a football official is very difficult, and expecting robot-like precision on the part of human beings is foolish. With all due respect to Seahawks fans, bad or missed calls are not indicative of anything more than human fallibility.

But doesn't the presence of instant replay indicate an implicit acceptance on the part of the NFL that referees might get it wrong sometimes, and that there should be a mechanism in place to allow aggrieved teams the benefit of an opportunity on the part of officials to correct their errors? I think that's a reasonable conclusion. And if that's the case, then shouldn't the most difficult calls to make be made available to a second look?

I sense that the league is afraid that including pass interference on the list of reviewable plays will somehow expose officials to scorn, or even worse expose the league's rules definitions as being more subjective than what constitutes obscenity. I guess it's nice to see that the colossus of American sports is so damn sensitive.

The hot stove
I know everyone's talking about Santana, but isn't that getting old (plus, he's not going anywhere)? No, the real story is that the smart teams are jumping in early and swinging high-risk, high-ceiling deals before the market gets further inflated at the Opryland Hotel bar. The Padres' signing of Randy Wolf is precisely the kind of free agent deal that mid-market teams have to make if they're going to stay competitive; the only way Wolf will end up being highly paid is if he earns the money. Yeah, I know, the Padres have an advantage because of PETCO when it comes to signing pitchers, but it has less to do with the specifics of this deal than it does the approach. The only "bargains" to be had are on players with red flags, as evidenced by the Nationals' swindling of the Mets and Rays for Lastings Milledge and Elijah Dukes, in addition to the aforementioned Wolf signing.

(Quick note on Dukes: If you think this was a bad deal, then you're confusing baseball with the National Honors Society. Dukes is a talented player who's done some bad stuff, on the field and off. He threatened the life of his girlfriend, which is reprehensible for sure. But he's not in jail for it either, which means he's still eligible to have a career. If you think Dukes should be punished for his transgressions, complain about the justice system, not baseball)

But I think the really interesting story is that its looking very likely that the Padres will lock-up Jake Peavy long-term. Peavy's willing to cut the Pads a discount — he'll likely make less annually that Carlos Zambrano — comes in return for a no-trade clause, which is understandable. And while I've often bemoaned long-term contracts for pitchers, I'm starting to soften a little when it comes to the elite guys. Peavy's on a very short list of hurlers who are near-mortal locks to be among the best five starters in the majors on a yearly basis, and while it's dumb to expect that he'll be anywhere close to this dominant in 2013, he should still be well above-average barring significant injury. And while the "significant injury" caveat isn't insignificant, it's probably not significant enough to make deals like these prohibitive any longer. At some point in time, you've got to take your shot, even if you acknowledge that the odds aren't the most desirable. Peavy's not only one of the pre-eminent players in the game, he also happens to play for a team whose best pitching prospect (Will Inman) projects to be a No. 3 in a perfect world. I happen to think that the Twins should strongly consider giving Santana the money he wants as well — this is a fairly recent conclusion for me as well — but the situation for the Twins and the Padres aren't exactly analogous. The Twins could afford to lose Santana, even without a massive return in a trade, because they are flush with pitching prospects and have Francisco Liriano returning from Tommy John surgery. The Padres, on the other hand, don't have anyone all that great coming up through the system, which means that Peavy's value to the team is even higher.

Guys like me are often accused of ignoring the forest for the trees when it comes to stuff like this, and I think that's fair criticism. I hate the idea of teams — particularly teams I like — signing irrational contracts, and those belonging to free agent starters are most often deserving of that particular epithet. In my perfect world, you would always have enough talent on the farm to allow free agents to walk, because free agents are almost always too expensive. But in an imperfect world, you have to accept that there are times when too much isn't really too much. Peavy's expensive, and if he gets hurt it will be a massive blow to the franchise's ability to compete. But it would probably be an even bigger blow to not have him, which means it's a deal you have to make.

Occam at the bat

In retrospect, I can't believe that I planned a week-long trip to Montreal — Je me souviens, my brothers! — so as it would completely occlude the last week of the baseball season. At least the food made it worthwhile.

Now that I'm back, I'm catching up on the flood of baseball writing that springs forth from the outsized loins of our nation's scribes, and I have to say that it's not disappointing in the least. For every well-informed commentary piece, there are five that make my brain hurt. And while most people gravitate toward the non-stop deluge of half-witted prediction assemblages that rarely do more than regurgitate the same meaningless "September stats," tales of debuting veterans and discussions of the importance of "grit" and "postseason experience," I find myself more attracted to the postmortem pieces.

Folks, these gems are early Christmas presents.

I won't bother singling any out, as all of them are eligible for a full FJM-ing. They speak to absurdities and imaginary variables and use words like "complacency" and "apathy." (and those are just the ones about the Mets!) They lord over dumb statistics, revisit unfortunate circumstances as if there were some kind of twisted providence at play, and second-guess even the most mundane decisions made by managers and G.M.s. They use the words "choke" and "clutch" more than a Car and Driver feature from the 70s. And, worst of all, they fall back on fifth-grade metaphors that serve only to further convince people that baseball writers don't realize that we're in the era of free agency. Quoth Buster Onley, on the penultimate day of the season:

And now the NL races could be completely settled today, in just under 24 hours, unless the Mets can somehow exorcise the demons of failure that seem to possess them.

I mean, good fucking lord!

It's a product of human nature to grasp for patterns within chaos, to search for logic in apparent randomness. To that extent, one must provide some allowance for the kind of hyperbole we're bound to be drowned in at the conclusion of a baseball season. But the problem doesn't lie in talking heads grasping for explanations, it's only in the explanations they choose to put forth.

Baseball seems to be an especially rich breeding ground for bullshit explanations. It's got curses and ghosts in stadiums. It's got the nonexistent wars between small-ball and Weaver-ball, and scouts vs. statheads. It's got crafty veterans and hustling (and always white) hustlers of hustily hustle. It's a game that supposedly participates in active ageism, until a young team like the Marlins come along and win the World Series, and writers talk about the power of "energy in the clubhouse."

I realize that some people think this kind of stuff supplies the yarn for the wonderful tapestry of the game's oral history, or something, but it's all bullshit. Almost always, you can break things down neatly if you're willing to simply willing to accept one essential maxim: Unpredictable things happen in events governed by human beings, the most unpredictable creatures on the planet.

William of Occam would have a field day with the New York Post's fetid stream of hyperbole recently, not to mention The Godfather's confused and confusing kneejerk postmortem on the Padres. Most certainly, he would have guffawed at bombastic moron TJ Simers' absolutely inane explanation as to how the Dodgers' best players — who happen to be the team's youngest players — are the real problem in the clubhouse, as opposed to the overpaid and whiny veterans who gorged themselves on at-bats they didn't deserve.

In all of these cases, the real answers are self-evident and self-evidently boring. The Mets, a team with a dearth of good pitchers and a lot of old (and, thusly, prone to rapid decline) bats, ended up winning 88 games, which is about right for a team with that profile. That the Amazins suffered a 5-12 skid to conclude the season is simply a matter of timing, not of some lack of clutchiness or presence of a sinister vapor. If the Mets went 5-12 in July, they certainly would not have been accused of a "collapse," but of a second-place finish that is disappointing only to those who believe that Carlos Delgado is still 27. The Padres, simply, were an 89-win team, which was good enough for a Wild Card tie. Unfortunately for the Friars, one-game playoffs without the contributions of 2/3 of your starting outfield are a harsh way to sum up a entire season. And the Dodgers simply mismanaged assets, wasting at-bats on washed-up veterans while one of the most talented groups of young players in the NL sat on the bench or in the minors wondering exactly who they needed to blow to get a full-time shot in the bigs.

I realize that I could be wrong, and that the Mets' finish could be attributed to some kind of clubhouse "complacency." But I would bet dollars to donuts that if the Mets had managed to reduce the impact of the slide, or if the Phillies hadn't finished as they did, sports writers would have feted the team (and the almost-fired Willie Randolph) for "not panicking." I guess the people within baseball are comfortable with the knowledge that this is how things are, but it's still disappointing to me that most people actually believe the only-in-hindsight "analysis." Listen, if you think Ned Yost should be fired because he's, tactically speaking, one of the dumbest skippers in the game, then fine. But if you think he should be fired because his team "choked," then you're nothing more than a reactive idiot. To take it a step further, Charlie Manuel should still be fired after this season, because he too is an idiot (quick: have you ever seen George W. Bush and Charlie Manuel in the same room at the same time? Didn't think so!). But one man could very well lose his job, while the other will probably get a contract extension, purely because of the vagaries of a baseball season and bad luck. And that just make me, and my boy William, die a little inside.

Sandy makes you dandy

Dear Diesel: Please get off my dick. — Sandy

Depression's setting in: I've only got a month or so of baseball left before I shut it down and start watching 20 hours of soccer a week. And, since I know none of you assholes want to read anything I have to say about soccer (but if you do, check out Booked! Link to it! MAKE IT YOUR HOMEPAGE!), I better get in the licks while I can.

Anyway, former TGWNA punching bag Tim "Gerund" Sullivan wrote a little ditty about Sandy Alderson, the Padres, and finances. It's not a long column, but it gets to the point and makes it well: Most criticism of the Padres, at least in terms of payroll, doesn't take into account the reality of the team's situation.

I'll cop to being one fan who has wondered this season why the team still pleads small-market now that PETCO is open and drawing well. In fact, I distinctly remember the organization selling the new ballpark to the city by saying that the additional revenues would result in a better product on the field. Clearly, if you look at the Padres' payroll this season ($58 million, seventh-lowest in the majors), the team is still not spending money on par with its rivals to the north. And if you read the Sullivan column, Alderson gives us a fairly believable account as to why that is.

But the funny thing is that the Padres have put a better product on the field. Say what you want about the offense, this team has won two straight NL West titles (even though 2005 wasn't anything to brag about), and is the leader in the NL Wild Card race right now. The pitching staff is the best in the National League. The team's best players are locked up through their arb-eligible seasons, so one can expect this core to stick around for a while.

Regardless, shit's getting marine-layer thick out there. Peavy, in case you haven't heard, publicly questioned both his future with the team once he becomes a free agent, and the team's willingness to make large financial commitments to free agents in general. Look, Peavy seems like an OK enough guy, and I don't think he's doing anything but sharing his feelings honestly here. But, honest does not equal correct. Peavy associates the club's de facto policy of not signing long-term contracts with stinginess (and/or the dreaded "unwillingness to do what it takes"), as opposed to proper business sense. And proper business sense — something the Padres' front office does not suffer for — is the reason that Peavy is correct in saying that he won't be with the club after 2009, unless he decides that he loves the Friars so much that he's willing to sign a three-year deal for roughly $25 million per year (I'm adjusting for the slew of insane pitching contracts to come on the heels of the Zambrano extension). And if Peavy does sign that deal, his agent should be shot in the fucking head.

Hey, Peavy is awesome. He's the best pitcher in the NL, even with a healthy Ben Sheets in the picture (That Webb guy is awesome, too, but he's no Peavy). He's only 26, and despite what appears to be a stressful delivery and arm angle, has managed to remain relatively healthy in his five full seasons. And he clearly digs playing in San Diego, which I suppose isn't earth-shattering but important nonetheless.

But, as much as I love the guy plying his trade in PETCO, I absolutely do not want the Padres to sign Peavy to a Zambrano-like extension. Not even a little.

Here's a list of pitchers who have signed FA (or the extension equivalent) contracts for more than four years:

• Bartolo Colon: 4/$51
• Roy Oswalt: 5/$73
• AJ Burnett: 5/$55
• BJ Ryan: 5/$47
• Mike Hampton: 8/$121 (can you believe this is the penultimate season of that deal?)
• Tim Hudson: 4/$47
• Jeff Suppan: 4/$42
• Chris Carpenter: 5/$63.5
• Ted Lilly: 4/$40
• Derek Lowe: 4/$36
• Barry Zito: 7/$126
• Jarrod Washburn: 4/$37.5
• Pedro Martinez: 4/$53
• Billy Wagner: 4/$43
• Kevin Millwood: 5/$60
• Daisuke Matsuzaka: 6/$54 (+$51 posting fee)
• Gil Meche: 5/$55
• Mark Buerhle: 4/$56
• Carl Pavano: 4/$40
• Kei Igawa: 5/$20 (+~$20 posting fee)

This list would have been insanely long if I included three-year deals, so I'm glad I didn't.

Anyway, most of these deals are fairly young, so it's not really possible to draw any firm conclusions. But look over that list again, and tell me which of those pitchers you really want on your team in four seasons. There's maybe three, including Oswalt, Matsuzaka and (maybe) Meche. On second thought, we'll make that two, and both come with a not-small degree of injury concern: Oswalt is perpetually dinged up, and sub-six-foot power pitchers don't exactly have the most sterling track record. Matsuzaka has thrown a TON of innings and pitches at a fairly young age, and is on pace for 223 this season while coming in second in Pitcher Abuse Points (and guess who's first? Everyone's favorite market-setting batshit-crazy right-hander for the Cubs!). And that's it. I don't think there's another guy on that list that any rational baseball fan thinks will be a highly effective pitcher in four years.

The reason for that sentiment is that almost all of them will be in or past their mid-30s in four years. And what makes intuitive sense also ends up making baseball sense; very few pitchers are worth $10-plus million in their late 30s, and if they do, they'll probably be signed by the Yankees.

I know lots of people in Minnesota are wringing their hands over Johan Santana's impending free agency (after next season), but the truth is that it's probably best to let him walk; odds are they've already had him for his best years. And, yes, he'll probably be a great pitcher for a while, maybe even for the five-to-seven years he'll sign for. But the odds are almost staggeringly against that being the case, and franchises like the Twins and Padres can't afford to make hard-way bets with 1/5th or 1/4th of the team's payroll.

And, even if they could afford it, they probably still shouldn't. Yes, pitching is expensive, and the predominant thought is that if you're not willing to play ball in the free agent market — and pay according to the terms being dictated by the Zambrano/Zito signings — you'll be left, like the Nationals, with no pitchers worth a damn. That's the case if a franchise's farm system is as broken as the Nationals', but that's really the exception to the rule. In fact, most teams would be just fine if they concentrated on developing pitching and spent the extra $20-$25 million per season on free agent hitters. Why's that? Because you'll probably get more extra wins out of a $20 million free agent outfielder than a $20 million free agent pitcher.

Johan Santana, the most valuable pitcher in the majors last season, was worth 8.4 wins over a replacement level pitcher last season, according to SNLVAR (remember that by definition, replacement level is what a team could reasonably expect to be able to call up from the minor leagues; in the case of the Twins, replacement level is actually higher, owing to the handful of excellent pitching prospects they had/have waiting in the wings, so that number in reality is probably even a little lower). So, if you're hypothetically paying Santana $20 million last season, which is on the low end of free market approximations for his services, you'll end up paying a little more than $2.3 million per marginal win.

Last season, Alfonso Soriano put up a WARP3 of 10.4 (and is en route to a 7.4 this year, despite the injury issues). He makes a little less than $18 million on average, which puts his cost per marginal win at $1.73 million. And this is as an outfielder, which means replacement level is higher than it would be if he were still a 2B (assuming he ever really was a 2B).

Now, this isn't to say that I think the Soriano deal is a good one — way too many years for a guy who plays execrable defense right now, when he's still young — but it's more worthwhile than the deal that will be given to Peavy or Santana when the time comes. The attrition rates for hitters is much lower than pitchers, and at the end of the day, an elite position player has more opportunity to help one's team than an elite pitcher.

This was a long way of saying: I think Sandy Alderson is dead-on.

The Other Stretch Run

I'm a little disenchanted with baseball at the moment, since the best five sports months of the year begin next Thursday, and also because the Astros just fired the only MLB general manager I've ever had dinner with. But with this blog's two favorite baseball teams playing big four-game series right now, this is a pretty big baseball week here on TGWNA. The Pads are fighting for the division, the Phils are trying to keep pace in the Wild Card, and both of them just won the opener, thanks at least in part to their second basemen: Geoff Blum and Chase Utley each homered today.

Forgive me, Pads fans, if I focus more on Utley. Chase made a great sliding play to get Reyes on the second pitch of the game, then waited all of three ABs to shake 31 days of rust by jacking a homer to left-center. He followed that with an RBI double to the same gap and a bloop opposite-way single. The guy who, a month ago, was odds-on favorite to be your 2007 NL MVP is back.

The question is, can he still win it? Any other year, after missing a solid month, the answer would probably be, "No." But this year there's more of a logjam among the senior circuit's elite than I can ever remember. As I see it, we've got the following:

The frontrunners:

Prince Fielder -- probably has the best case right now. Leads the NL in HR and SLG. Although it's worth mentioning that he's ninth among this group in VORP -- his .376 OBP probably has something to do with it -- and if the Brewers tank, he loses a lot of that feel-good vibe.

Hanley Ramirez -- has everything you could want, offensively: 23 HR, 43 SBs, .331 AVG, .558 SLG. But he's also probably the worst defensive shortstop in the NL. Still, despite that, he leads the league in VORP. But his team sucks. If the award were really about the best player, he'd probably win.

Albert Pujols -- Well, he is Albert Pujols. And he is going to be an NL MVP candidate for the foreseeable future. But he's not having his best year, and his team isn't very good, either.

The "one hot month" guys:

Chase Utley -- Was the clear leader when he got hurt. Still leads the league in hitting and is sixth in VORP despite missing a month. And he's the best player at his position by leaps and bounds. But his power totals will suffer from the missed time. He essentially needs to have a monster month and lead the Phils to the playoffs.

Miguel Cabrera -- good in every category (except defense), but not clearly better than anybody else here in anything. Plus he's the second-best player on his own team, a team which happens to suck, and he's gotten a lot of bad pub about his weight and attitude.

Chipper Jones -- stats are virtually identical to Utley's, including games played, which is a problem. But he plays third base, a more valuable position than most of these other guys, though not Utley.

Ryan Howard -- thanks to Utley (and MVP pitch-dark horse Jimmy Rollins [racist!]), he still leads the league in RBIs, despite missing most of April with injuries and pretty much every single pitch he's swung at in August. Also third in homers. And you could make a case that he's the third-best player in the Phillies' infield. But he is the reigning MVP, and he is capable of incredible months. He'll need another one to seriously contend, and the Phillies making the playoffs wouldn't hurt (although that would probably give it to Utley).

David Wright -- If we wiped April off the books, he'd win it in a walk. He hits for average and power, steals bases, plays great defense, anchors a first-place team, the works. But he was so bad early on that his final season totals probably won't be good enough.

The dark horses, including one white person who keeps me from sounding racist!:

Jose Reyes -- depends how much the voters value speed and defense. He's exceptional in both categories, and he plays a valuable defensive position, but he has no pop, and I have a hard time believing we're going to see an MVP with 12 homers, 60 RBIs, and a sub-.450 SLG.

Matt Holliday -- good player across the board, plays for a mediocre team in a bad market, probably not quite exceptional enough in any area to stand out.

Jimmy Rollins -- go ahead, call me a homer. Then look at his stats. He leads the league in runs scored, is fourth in hits, first in triples, great on defense, and he has an outside chance at being a 30/30 guy, all while leading the league in at-bats. If the Phils make the playoffs, you're telling me he shouldn't get more credit than Utley or Howard?

Their teams are just too bad:

Carlos Lee -- see Holliday, Matt, except substitute "terrible team that just fired its entire staff" for "mediocre team."

Adam Dunn

The pitcher: (usually, this would be just about impossible, but I don't think so this year)
Jake Peavy -- Leads all pitchers in VORP, Ks (by 31!), wins, 2nd in ERA, all-around the best pitcher in the NL this year any way you slice it, and pretty clearly, to me at least, the best in baseball. If a pitcher wins it, it's gonna be him. But still, he's a pitcher, and I don't think a pitcher will win it, unless he's really stellar down the stretch and the Pads win something.

And we're done. Sorry that was exhausting, but that's the whole point -- I just mentioned 14 guys, eight of whom shouldn't surprise anybody if they win the MVP.

And, yes, three of whom are Phillies. You suckas are lucky I didn't include Pat Burrell!