Padres/Rangers Game 3 Pregame Preview: The Yu vs. Some Dude Named "Bass"

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Just over a week ago, the Texas Rangers (42-27) were begging to get out of Cali and back home pronto.  Now, after securing their fourth-straight series win and looking to push their winning streak to six, the Rangers have a fresh outlook on California.

I’ll take “California Dreamin’” over West Coast Screamin’ any old day in Rangers Nation.

Scott Feldman collected his first win of the season in last night’s 7-3 win over the San Diego Padres…and if that wasn’t enough, he put on a hitting display as well—collecting the first RBI of his career. 

But masked by the perfect temperatures and five-game winning streak, there was some trouble afoot. 

First baseman Mitch Moreland strained his left hamstring while attempting to beat out a bases loaded double play ground ball during the second inning.

He’s scheduled for an MRI today, but as of now, his status is listed as day-to-day.  I’d be surprised if he doesn’t require some time on the disabled list.  

You never want a player injured, but the reality is, it happens. And although Moreland is the team’s best first baseman, the Rangers will have no problems sliding in someone if Moreland misses time—Michael Young gets the start tonight.

On the hill for the Texas Rangers, it’s RHP Yu Darvish (8-4, 3.57 ERA, 1.47 WHIP, 9.8 K/9). The Yu looks to complete the sweep of San Diego tonight, as he opposes RHP Anthony Bass (2-7, 4.88 ERA, 1.37 WHIP, 7.9 K/9).

Tonight’s starting lineups:

San Diego Padres (24-45)

RF Will Venable

CF Cameron Maybin

Headley's batting .556 against the Rangers.

LF Mark Kotsay

3B Chase Headley

1B Yonder Alonso

SS Everth Cabrera

C John Baker

2B Alex Amarista

P Anthony Bass

Darvish

The Yu is coming off of one of his best starts this season.  He went eight innings, scattering seven hits and walked just two. Darvish tied a career-high with 11 strikeouts in the Rangers 6-2 win over the Houston Astros.

On the road, Darvish is 2-4 with a 3.98 ERA. At home, he has yet to lose (6-0, 3.15). Petco Park was just what Feldman needed to earn his first win of the year, so maybe some of that San Diego magic can help out The Yu too.

Right-handed batters hit: .203/.331/.364 with 5 HRs off of Darvish, whereas left-handers go: .259/.352/.365 with just two home runs.

Darvish’s eight innings in his last start were the second-most he’s pitched, and the first time he’d eight-plus since April 24 at home against the New York Yankees.

When Darvish can spot his fastball, he can use his elite-level repertoire of pitches to beat any team, anywhere. However, Darvish’s ridiculously high 5.1 BB/9 ratio indicates that his worst enemy is himself.

Hami was 2-for-5 last night with 2 RBI

Texas Rangers (42-27)

2B Ian Kinsler

1B Michael Young

CF Josh Hamilton

3B Adrian Beltre

RF Nelson Cruz

LF David Murphy

C Yorvit Torrealba (.312, 4 HRs at Petco Park)

SS Alberto Gonzalez (.195 BA, 1 HR at Petco)

P Yu Darvish

*Both Torrealba (2010) and Gonzalez (2011) used to play for the San Diego Padres.  Tonight will mark the first time Yu Darvish will bat as a big leaguer. 

Bass

24-year-old Anthony Bass was a fifth-round selection by the Padres during the 2008 Draft. 

Bass hasn’t won a game since the middle of May in Washington, D.C. against the Nationals.  He has a home ERA of 3.62 and is 1-2 at Petco Park this season.  On the road, he has struggled mightily with just one win (1-5) and a ghastly 6.00 ERA.

Right-handed batters and left-handed ones produce almost the exact same numbers off of Bass.  RHB: .250/.325/.400 with four home runs, and LHB: .250/.328/.433 with—you guessed it—four home runs.

What gets Bass into trouble is his occasional lack of command, hence his 3.6 BB/9.

Prediction time:

As we all know by now, when Yu Darvish gets ahead of batters, he’s almost unhittable. When he hit his rough patch this season, he was over-thinking and struggling with command of his fastball. 

He was excellent in his last start, and Petco Park is repressive enough on an offense that Darvish can get away with a few mistakes here and there. As long as he comes right after the Padres, I feel he’ll coast to his ninth win of the year.

Hamilton and company will continue to beat-up Padres pitchers and the Rangers win tonight.

@TMurrayHowell

Sorry for the inconvenience, we will have Baseball Do up and running in no time!

Long time no talk!

Greetings to any and all from our recently concluded creative writing class. I miss you guys. In lieu of fiction fragments or synopses, here is a brief list of 10 things that you might not know about the Texas Rangers' (horrific) pitcher, Koji Uehara—plus some Haiku that puts the "poo" in poetry. Enjoy!

P.S. I plan on completing the rest our assignments in the next few days and will put them up on this bad boy of a blog for anyone to check out (or not). I hope all is well with everyone!

Things you didn’t know about Koji Uehara, and bad poetry

Last night’s drubbing of the helpless Boston Red Sox by a score of 18-2 (Koji Uehara’s happen too frequently to count anymore…) was a thing of absolute beauty!

Well, except for that little appearance by the batting machine with sideburns with his infamous splitter that doesn’t split and world famous hanging fastball.

When Koji pitches, it’s like the first time you got dumped. Sure, in a few hours you won’t care anymore, but at that moment you’re moved enough to write some epically bad poetry.

Here are three episodic Haikus followed by some things that you didn’t know about Mr. Uehara. Enjoy.

Koji Uehara

Enables opposition

Four-hundred foot blasts

*****

Koji Uehara

Needs to take his uncanny suck

To another team

*****

Anaheim Angels:

Koji Uehara might be

A great fit for you

*****

1. According to Elias Sports Bureau, when facing Koji, it is three times more difficult to NOT hit a home run than it is to take him downtown—or, as they say: “deep into the heart of Dong City.” Okay, only I say that.

2. Fellow Japanese import, Yoshinori Tateyama, was a High School teammate of Koji. Back then, Koji was an outfielder. Now, if you’re HS coach won’t let you pitch…Just sayin’.

3. During last year’s ALCS against the Detroit Tigers, Koji pitched 1 1/3 innings while surrendering 3 home runs…HE ONLY GAVE UP ONE FEWER HRs THAN OUTS RECORDED.

4. The whole “it ain’t over ‘till the fat lady sings” thing is tired and cliché. A better rested, new cliché should be: “It ain’t over until Koji Uehara gets an out.”

5. Forget number four. Realistically, if Koji is in there, the ******* thing is already over.

6. In Japan, a popular pitch is named “shuuto.” When Koji throws it, it is referred to as “shit throw.”

7. Throughout his Major League Baseball career (2009-Present), Koji has had an excellent walk rate. This is not due to his outstanding location or control. This is due to a basic baseball philosophy: Why walk when you can hit a home run?

8. Koji’s English translator isn’t even bilingual. Hell, he’s not even “bi.” He’s simply a tape recorder with a pre-recorded message that says: “I am sorry. I did not have my good stuff today. I wish to go back to Baltimore where the team is bad and expectations are low. Thank you.”

9. Fellow Japanese pitchers Yu Darvish and Yoshi Tateyama actually speak in English anytime Koji is near.

10. Balls thrown by Koji Uehara accumulated 3,000,000 frequent flyer miles last year. Koji’s balls cashed in the miles and, like, totally vacationed in Puerto Rico—where they were held, but not for ransom. Booya!

Follow @TMurrayHowell

Writer-Cize #3(Tim Howell)

It is challenging to keep my thoughts of Katy Perry's hotness—be it audibly, intuitively or writtenly—on the PG tip. This photograph, lovely as it is, was chosen intentionally by myself because it keeps my mind out of the gutter.

Sort of.

Well, at least it highlights the beauty of her face rather than other (ahem) more obvious physical attributes such as...

Cue the internal dialogue.

Don't think it Tim. Dude, just shut it down. And for God's sake don't say it out loud!

KATY PERRY'S GOT A GREAT BODY! GREAT BODY! LARGE, LARGE KNOCKERS! I COULD EASILY CUT OUT RED MEAT IF THOSE MELONS WERE EDIBLE.

My apologies. I'd feel even more sexist right now had this exercise not been about describing beauty. So I guess a little blanket objectification is par for this course. Besides, who knows, she may be a downright disagreeable person.

Okay, if I was writing about a woman that resembled this picture, I'd try not to put my entire impression of her down on paper. Obviously, this is the type of look that I like, but as we talked about in last week's class, unless I'm making this woman the antagonist, I'd better hold off on the super-hot attractive talk or every reader will hate her.

Also, of course, you don't want to overdo the character descriptions. If you do so, you stifle one of the best things about reading versus watching a movie. We love forming how a character looks—in our mind's eye, not someone else's—as we read. Now when I read and a woman is written as attractive, this may be how I picture her, but that's a digression as this assignment isn't about my own weird psychological makeup.

Okay, for real, here goes:

Dude this chick was smoking. The End. You see? We all can come up with a very different picture of this woman in our own minds, no?

Just kidding. Here's my no BS attempt:

I took my usual spot in the restaurant nearest the street-side window. The adjacent road was dark with a drizzled slickness. Drop by drop, the doldrums of my day drifted through with the same easy rhythm of the rain's soft patter.

I watched as an umbrella-less woman used a newspaper for protection. She ducked down low, arched her shoulders and scurried into the restaurant.

The muted jingle of the door's bells had just ceased as she removed the newspaper, shook it out, and then shivered dramatically. I hate to see a good newspaper get soaked...it falls apart, and becomes generally unreadable. But I enjoyed watching her shiver.

One look at this young woman, and I'd gladly run into the New York Times headquarters with a fire hose set to stop-the-riot-level.

Her hair hung low, but was frazzled with the unkemptness that only damp hair drying can provide. Her face held a soft glow that was just as intimidating as it was inviting.

Her age was a tough call. She could be 22, or 42. She had that type of easy, no hassle elegance that masquerades age effortlessly. We all know plenty of people willing to kill for that quality.

Her deep green eyes flashed towards my table. It was then that I realized I had been staring. I slammed my eyes down and rushed a sip of my coffee. It went down the wrong pipe and I started to choke and cough, while generally feeling like a total dumbass.

I felt a firm slap on my back, and when I looked up, there she was. "Are you okay?" she asked in a voice that purred soft as a kitten, while sounding just as dangerous.

Who is he?

Who is she?

Synopsis for "The Designated Hitter" (Tim Howell)

Barry “The Bolt” Holt woke up from his dream of becoming a major league pitcher a while back. Occasionally a day or two go by when he doesn’t even think about it.

Holt was a “closer” in the minor leagues before he finally called it a career due to various arm ailments. The closer’s role requires a short-term memory to block out negativity. It also requires a kill or be killed mentality, as the game of baseball can be cutthroat.

Holt later learned that these unique gifts could also be handy in a different type of endeavor. Holt has been a contract hit man, or “designated hitter” since he left the game of baseball five years ago.

When Holt’s boss called him up with an assignment that required him to report to a minor league training camp disguised as a minor league hopeful, he was all over it. All Holt had to do was pretend to be on the team for a week or so and then get his man.

It sounded easy enough. Play some ball, do his thing, and then get paid. The only way this gig could go wrong is if Holt actually made the team. No way the sore-armed thirty-something could pull that off.

Little did Holt know that he still had some lightning left in that right arm of his.

Two weeks into minor league camp and his intended target is just as alive as Holt's baseball career. His velocity is up and he’s been lights-out. He's been so good in fact that he has been offered a different type of contract—one that might fast track him to the major leagues.

Finally, Barry Holt is within an arm’s length of fulfilling his lifelong dream. That is, if he can stay alive long enough.

Holt's boss is getting antsy, and if he doesn't produce soon, he will become a target himself. Is Holt's lifelong dream of becoming a big leaguer worth dying for?

Writer-cize #2(Tim Howell)

When I'm scanning the Internet for a baseball-related article, what turns me off is too much front-loaded sabermetrics talk. I'd rather read: "A.J. Burnett's acquisition provides excellent upside to the Pittsburgh Pirates, as he brings statistics that in some ways are better than Philadelphia's Cliff Lee—for a fraction of the cost."

I'd rather not read: "FIP (fielding independent pitching) converts a pitcher's three true outcomes into an ERA-like number. The formula is (13*HR+3*BB-2*K)/IP, plus a constant (usually around 3.2) to put it on the same scale as ERA. (I think I just threw up a little).

Sure, that's an extreme example. I guess it just boils down to personal preference, as the "sabermetric" example is a "hook" to those looking for that type of analysis.

When it comes to a short story, I'm a sucker for really quirky openings (i.e. Raymond Carver) and am turned off by rambling wordiness (some Agatha Christie).

Here's an awesome opening line by Carver:

"A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house."

—from "Viewfinder"

For me, the Carver hook works on multiple levels. For starters it's clear and concise. It throws you into the story immediately with a ton of questions—impressive since the sentence is only 16 words long.

How does a man without hands knock on the door (or does he scratch)? Who buys photographs of their own home? I'd like to see these demographics. Why/How did this man lose his hands? What senses are compensated if you lose your sense of touch? Carver was a master, and perhaps his excellence is at least in part derived from his ridiculous ability to "show" and not "tell." This opening line transports us into the twisted world of Carver, and what a fun ride it is.

The Last Dance of the Donkey

Freelance Investigator, Jack Windsor, was having a pretty solid weekend. He had an insult-free conversation with his ex-wife on Friday night. On Saturday he beat his good buddy Brian O'Mare on the links.

Windsor didn't have much time to savor his victories, however. On Sunday while at a Benton Burros baseball game, he got a phone call from the Chief of Police, Windsor's recently defeated golf friend, Brain O'Mare. And this phone call didn't have anything to do with sports. Unless you count murder as an extracurricular activity.

The baseball team's mascot, Buddy the Burro, had been murdered—found on top of the fireworks launch station with a bullet in his head—and there was no shortage of suspects—one of which was Windsor's ex-wife, Gabby, and possibly her new boyfriend, the Centerville Centaur.

Can Jack Windsor help his old friend O'Mare find the murderer? Follow Windsor as he learns if he's got what it takes to solve a murder in a town where no one is who they seem.

Think I'll Call it Morning

Elisha Faith Lawrence has lived a charmed life, everything proceeding according to plan. Then she loses her job, and her mother’s health crisis forces her to move back home. When Elisha’s friend Chantell offers her a position at the downtown Community Center, Elisha takes the job, even reluctantly agreeing to become a mentor. After a bad beginning, a friendship warms between Elisha and Center director Malachi. But, just as Elisha regains her footing, she stumbles upon a family secret that delivers her the worst loss of all.

On the other side of town, poverty makes life a struggle for nineteen-year-old DeAndre Davis, especially when his mother Brenda leaves town to nurse her wounds after being beaten by a boyfriend leaving DeAndre to care for his sister Shawntrice. Neighbor Mavis lends a hand and though DeAndre appreciates her efforts, she can’t convince him there’s more to life than the bleakness he sees. His best friend Jermaine is deep into a drug game that DeAndre’s determined not to play. Girlfriend LaNea offers support, but wants more than DeAndre’s able to give. When Brenda reveals a devastating secret and unwelcome news from LaNea follows, DeAndre makes a hasty decision that could change his life.

Desperation pushes DeAndre to a breaking point and his life intersects with Elisha’s in a fateful moment when they discover what separates us is not as strong as the ties that bind.

Synopsis for "One Dead Donkey" (Tim Howell)

Freelance (sounds better than “unemployed”) Investigator Jack Windsor was having a fine time losing money on the links when his best friend, Police Chief Brian O’Mare, called him up with some strange news.

Windsor’s “special abilities” were needed at a downtown crime scene immediately. O’Mare and company were at a loss as to who would kill a smiling, bespectacled, eight-foot donkey. That’s just messed up.

“Buddy the Burro” was famous for his crowd-pleasing back flips and breakdance moves. Buddy was every fan’s favorite mascot. Problem was, Buddy would disappear as quickly as he showed up. Leaving his legion of fans empty handed—literally.

This burro was a con artist, who had his name legally changed to “Buddy the Burro.” That’s pretty messed up, too. He robbed fans of cash, credit cards, and jewelry—whatever he could get his dirty donkey hands on. Hey, everyone trusts the mascot.

But so charming was Buddy that his victims had never filed a police report. After all, entertainment of this level doesn’t come cheap—what’s a few hundred dollars to put a smile on your kid’s face?

Three days ago, someone finally pinned the tail on this donkey. Buddy was found with two holes in his head at a sleazy downtown motel, still in full costume. Yes, that is really messed up.

Question: Who would want to kill the lovable mascot?

Answer: More people than you could imagine.

The police have no idea where to start in regards to suspects. The motel room was wiped clean, there was no sign of forced entry, and Buddy’s wallet was full of cash. They could be looking for a rival mascot, a pissed off parent, or maybe even a jealous lover (this donkey got around.)

There is only one man who stands a chance at solving the case of the “Dead Donkey.” It’s time to see if Jack Windsor, everyone’s favorite “hypnagogic hallucination” expert is up for the task. Regardless, he could use the dough.

Eulogy Experience Assignment (Tim Howell)

I apologize for being a few minutes late. I was at the doctor having some basic blood work done—been putting that off, you know how it goes. Oddly enough my triglycerides were a tad high, but my resting heartbeat was excellent! It's now actually lower than Lance Armstrong’s!

Okay. Wow, nice crowd. I thought I was the dead one.

Anyhoo, I’d like to thank you all for showing up at my wake to pay your respects. Or just to be seen. It’s whatever, folks, you're here and that's pretty cool.

And just to let you know how sincerely I appreciate your attendance, I just posted to my Facebook page that, quote: “I sincerely appreciate your attendance.” That’s just me—still keeping it real guys—I’m all up in the “afterlife,” yo!

Now it's time for the "small talk portion" of my spiel. So, how is everyone? Good. Have a decent lunch? Excellent, here's hoping you packed some Rolaids and popped a Beano, brother! Right on. Gas prices still high? Boy, they sure are! If I could get my cold, dead hands around the dude that controls the price at the pump...Yes sir, the weather sure is a tad too hot/cold/pleasant/horrific, for me as well.

Have any trouble with the security at the front gate? They tend to be kind of relaxed when you're dead and all. I mean even if there are assassins in the crowd, who are you going to kill?

Well, I’ll keep this brief. I have a ton of things to do. Now that I (ahem) have some free time on my hands, I’m going to finally complete my LinkedIn account. Damn thing has been at 75% for about three years now…

Okay, here goes.

I have not one regret. I have about one thousand. Haha. Oh lighten up, it’s okay to laugh a little, it won’t kill you, I promise. And jeez, Lou, don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to kill you either…but, wait a minute...hold on a second...I'm getting a message...from beyond...it's about you, Lou...it says..."you will die in a horrible traffic accident on the planet Neptune just outside of Uranus in the year 2055..."

Haha! Gotcha! I’m not clairvoyant either playas! I’m just dead, baby, just dead.

And no, I’m not a freaking zombie. I’ve always been pale, a-holes—perhaps now even moreso—and no, that’s not blood around my mouth, either. I was drinking a V8 juice, and some got stuck in my goatee. My bad.

Actually, that reminds me. I need a gig. Yes I know that’s random, but ADD doesn’t die with you. It lives on and on...

If any of you are thinking of writing a horror story, preferably about ghosts—or zombies, they’re so HOT right now—I think I may be able to add some “real world” assistance. Hell, I’ll even eat some brains if need be—I’m a method actor. I’m sure there are far worse things being done in Hollywood as we speak than wolfing down some "brain chowder" to land a job.

You know the drill. Just hit me up on my LinkedIn or drop me a line on my "celly."

I do have some experience writing. Sadly, as an ill-fated attempt to build my own unique “brand” I never actually attached my name to any of my published work. I wanted my niche to be the “Mysteriously Mysterious Mystery Writer.”

God, that was stupid.

Maybe not as dumb as blow drying my hair while I was still in the shower. I still don’t understand that one. Hell, I was wearing rubber shoes and grounded.

Oh well, you just can’t win them all.

Well I guess that about wraps things up. I need to add a new Twitter profile photograph. The one I have up now is way too vibrant and alive. False advertising, blah blah blah. Word 'em up.

Peace out fools!

For a complete transcript of the preceding ramblings from the wake—visit the dead dude’s new blog, at: www.DeadManTalking.com. He’s also available for children’s parties. Look him up, he’s a hard worker that’s just dying to entertain (or scare the hell out of) you.

Writer-cize #1(Tim Howell)

1. Many things inspire me to write. For example, a strange quote from a weird person (Woody Allen) is one thing that gets my keyboard a-clacking.

If “eighty percent of success is showing up” and I’m successful, can I make the missing twenty percent of that equation involve harvesting melons from a tree named Katy Perry? I mean why not? She’s attracted to success. It’s why she dumped Russell Brand.

2. I’d like to have representation from a literary agent in the next year, and I’d like to be published—old school style, in print—within the next three years. I think this is a feasible goal. Regardless, I’ll show up at least eighty-one percent of the time to give these goals within nineteen percent of my full effort (with apologies to the melon-bearing Perry tree.)

3. I pledge to write everyday.

It doesn’t matter if its fiction on my ‘fridge, or notes in my notebook. I will complete a composition. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll scribble a little until I scrawl some excellent drivel. Heck, I might even compose a story that is boringly gory.

You get the idea. I’m going to write everyday.