By Thomas Boswell
Thursday, May 15, 2008
BALTIMORE
After beating the world champ Red Sox twice in less than 24 hours, this time 6-3 on a late-inning grand slam by Jay Payton off Hideki Okajima, the Orioles jogged toward the pitcher's mound, acting cool as they congregated, but excited, nonetheless. As they ran, most of the Birds initiated their new victory ritual, flipping up the bill of their baseball caps, imitating their goofy southpaw George Sherrill, the only closer who has ever chosen to wear his hat in the style of Max Patkin, the old Clown Prince of Baseball.
Before this season, everybody said the Orioles would be a laughingstock. Now, the joke is on them. It's the Orioles, in a scene out of a slapstick circus, who grin when they win, slap hands and, hats up, act like fools. Very happy fools.
After trading Miguel Tejada and Erik Bedard for kids and, supposedly, second-tier talent like Sherrill, the Orioles are now 21-19 (ahead of the Yanks) and playing with an unselfish cohesion that hasn't been seen here in Camden Yards in more than a decade.
"I feel like I'm teaching seventh grade PE -- you know, all the high-maintenance [troublemakers]. You see these guys come off the field with their hats up, you know what I'm dealing with," joked Manager Dave Trembley, 56, who still hasn't managed 162 games, yet feels like the first manager here in years who's been in complete charge.
The Orioles are a symbol of this baseball season as it reaches the one-quarter mark: Throughout the sport, the last shall be first. The two teams with the lowest payrolls in the game, the Marlins ($21.8 million, less than Alex Rodriguez) and Rays, are in first place in their divisions. So are the Diamondbacks (23rd in payroll), while the Twins are a half-game out of the AL Central lead. The three richest clubs in baseball, the $209 million Yankees (20-21) and $138 million Tigers (16-24) are in fourth and last places in their divisions, respectively, while the No. 3 Mets are only in third.
"Don't forget Oakland," says Oriole President Andy MacPhail of the Athletics, who are the third-lowest paid team yet are a game out of first place. What does it all mean?
"The baseball gods have a sense of humor," said MacPhail, whose team is 22nd in pay.
"It's good for the game," said Trembley, noting that three of the four teams in the league championship series last season -- Colorado, Arizona and Cleveland -- were built on inexpensive player development, rather than high-priced free agents.
By closing day, many of these discount bubbles will be broken. The Marlins and Rays won't meet in the World Series and the Orioles may well have an 11th straight losing year. These wins, both comebacks from three runs behind, were exemplary, but only represent two of 36 endless meetings with the Yankees and Red Sox royalty in the brutal A.L. East.
But for now, Orioles fans, like the 28,939 who divided Camden Yards about equally with poaching Red Sox partisans, were able to spend the ninth inning drowning out cheers of "Let's go Red Sox" with much louder chats of "Let's go O's."
Asked to summarize his team's first 40 games, Trembley said: "The guys have fun playing. They are not intimidated. They really don't think they should take a back seat. They think they can play with everybody. . . .
"We have to earn respect and get people back on board. Some fans have jumped ship and you can understand. All I'm asking is for people to give us a chance."
Part of the newfound fun is based in more work, more structure and more emphasis on fundamentals than the Orioles have had in years. Once in each homestand, the Orioles come early for pitcher fielding practice on one day and bunting practice on another. Few teams do this after March. Trembley has also instituted infield practice before the first game of each homestand and road trip, largely because it's such an old-time ego booster.
"In Anaheim, at 6:20, I told some fans, 'Stick around, you're going to get a treat, a big league team taking infield, like they all used to' " Trembley said. "We took a nice infield. Showtime, 40,000 watching us look like the Globetrotters. We won that night.'"
For years, one Orioles manager after another has complained, "The inmates run the asylum here." That's changed with MacPhail. Nobody goes over him to get the owner's ear. So, Trembley actually has authority. Fifteen minutes before the end of batting practice, he motions subtly with one hand to let his regulars know that they can come in early. Not one leaves the field until they see the little sign. Not since Earl Weaver?
As always in families, freedom and fun only flourish after discipline has been established. "These guys love getting on each other. [Kevin] Millar is priceless in the clubhouse. I don't know where he gets the energy," first base coach John Shelby said. "I wasn't here for the losing years. But it feels a little like the days with Earl in charge and John Lowenstein smashing birthday cakes in the middle of the clubhouse with a bat."
Tone is all well and good. But, ultimately, players do the winning. "For us, first, it's been the pitching," said Trembley, meaning Daniel Cabrera and Jeremy Guthrie at the top of the rotation, winning these two Boston games with gritty quality starts after falling behind 3-0. "Guthrie is a tough, tough cookie," said Trembley.
For Cabrera (4-1), who's spent his career defining "inconsistent," this afternoon was his seventh straight quality start. This is at least the third "new Daniel Cabrera." But you never know. "He's developed a two-seam sinker. It's filthy, like Josh Beckett's," bench coach Dave Jauss said.
However, on the whole staff, "the biggest individual surprise is Sherrill," Trembley said. Last season, the Orioles paid $42 million for relievers who were awful, injured or both. Now, they've patched together a bullpen of journeymen, prospects, suspects and, at the end of the line, the quintessentially left-handed Sherrill with his ludicrous hat, his five seasons in the netherworld of independent leagues and, at 31, just four career saves before this season.
After five years of scuffling in leagues that don't even have stats, Sherrill was finally signed by the Mariners and reported to San Antonio, where teammates razzed him for not even knowing how to bend the brim of his hat like a proper pro.
"So, I decided, 'Okay, I'll wear it the way they send it to me,' " said Sherrill, who now has 15 saves, second in the American League. That hat became his badge of independence, his answer to mockery, his flag of defiance.
One night, two weeks ago, an Oriole realized Sherrill's hat was not only a fitting symbol for a pitcher who couldn't get a big league contract for five years after college, but wouldn't quit trying. It suited the butt-of-every-joke Orioles, too.
"Yeah, it was Millar, of course," said Sherrill. "He did it [at first base] while I was still pitching. Glad I didn't see that."
He'd have laughed too hard to pitch. Even the Orioles can't handle that much fun.
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